#the system would have sold even better

[girl4music]

Got my pre-order in for ‘The Legend Of Zelda: Tears Of The Kingdom’ along with the limited edition OLED Nintendo Switch. I wanted the carrying case and the switch pro controller as well but apparently that comes out a little later with the game. I can understand them not putting that out for pre-order yet. I’ll get it eventually. Needed an update on my Nintendo Switch anyway. I have the old model. I’ll probably only ever use it to play Zelda games though.

I’ve been anticipating this game for a long time. I can’t actually believe it’s finally available in a month. ‘Breath Of The Wild’ was a Zelda experience like no other. Literally a breath of fresh air for the series and I’m so happy I’ll be returning to it through the sequel.

Who’s excited for this game? Get your pre-orders in!

[waffulaa]

.

[lightdancer1]

Unfortunately the article's claim that slavery was peripheral to African states has the problem that the abolition of the trade brought Dahomey, Benin, and the Sokoto Caliphate to near economic disintegration:

This article in turn is a good case of decolonization historiography as applied to the Kingdom of Dahomey. While I consider the claim that 'slavery was peripheral to the economies of African states' to be special pleading given the abolition of the slave trade brought Dahomey, Benin, and the Sokoto Caliphate to major weakness that made the conquests in the Scramble a matter of marching and the butcher and burn approach, it does make the point that to understand the decisions of African rulers the focus needs to be on African, not European, understandings of what their goals were.

It might be more easily noted that the African states did not see the dangers in mortgaging so much of their liquid wealth in the forms of slavery and doing little to build up anything more diverse.....but that should be equally put into the context that the European states only saw this *after* the era of mercantilism and the start of capitalism made it clear that a mono-focused economy is a glass dome waiting a good hit from a sledgehammer. The conditions furthering this shift did not apply to Dahomey, which made its bones and its money by exploiting the slave trade in its classical system and in the pattern most familiarly known to modern eyes.

Namely its soldiers, including the Ahosi, rampaged in the interior of Africa dragging poor sorry saps who couldn't run away fast enough by those human chains to ports and avoiding anything done to their *own* people with Oyo a particular favorite of their raids. It is a not entirely dissimilar result to Bolivarianism in Venezuela mortgaging the economy solely to oil....and then OPEC pushed oil prices off a roof and took the Venezuelan economy with it.

Judging Dahomey by its own standards likewise means recognizing that an autocratic society has all the usual brittleness of autocratic societies, including the endemic risks of military putsches that tended to be key parts in how Europeans finally brought African states over the brink of collapse. When the slave trade would implode in the 1830s the prosperity of Dahomey started to creak with it. 50 years later when European power returned with a deadly vengeance it was not strong states they faced outside of cases like Ethiopia or Kanem-Bornu where the slave trades in Western and Central and Eastern Africa were at their height, it was brittle ones devastated by the loss of much of their mobile capital and the ability to replenish supplies of gunpowder and firearms.

[xmoriartea]

SVSSS!Sibling Transmigration AU

Based so very loosely on this glorious art by @nibbelraz

Airplane transmigrates into the youngest infant son of the Shang family (and God damn he deserves better than this System he is their god!! Daddy Airplane?? Heard of him?? These people should not be changing his damn diaper hello??)

Shang Qinghua is already a young disciple when he visits home and meets his little brother for the first time and does no one else see there is something... off about this kid?

He makes regular trips home afterwards, eventually using An Ding logistics to find reasons to be near his hometown more frequently (and really does no one else see this kid is weird?)

Bby!Airplane is just too smart. SQH is convinced he saw the kid make eye contact with him once when he caught him stealing a dumpling behind their mother's back and it was like looking into the eyes of a demon who'd gut him if he snitched and not a human toddler

It doesn't get better as Airplane gets older and SQH hears him muttering about 1. things he shouldn't know at all regarding the sect when he thinks SQH isn't listening and 2. absolute nonsense (what System has done you so wrong didi?? you are four??)

Before Airplane is old enough to reasonably join the sect, SQH brings him back to the mountain anyway. He is fairly certain his brother is a seer and if that's the case, he's keeping the little welp close at hand

Airplane infinitely regrets how much bullshit he made An Ding deal with to ""hand wave lazy writing"" (shut up peerless cucumber!! he was writing porn not project management!!) but even just watching SQH run himself ragged over the peak has bby him exhausted (no wonder he ratted y'all out to the king yeesh)

He spends his early years as a disciple just following SQH and sometimes nudging his gege into record shattering discoveries because SQH will pat his head when he realizes and take him down the mountain for noodles afterwards (gg easy)

Airplane is a proper disciple in his own right in his teens when his notes and his story get jumbled in a way that has him tripping into one of his shixiongs when he hears the rumors - Head Disciple SJ returned to the mountain with a little brother (record screech glass shattering huh???)

Meanwhile, Shen Yuan transmigrated into Shen Jiu's unnamed younger half-brother After finding stability at the sect, Shen Jiu looks into his birth mother, knowing she sold him off when he was a child What he finds in Airplane's unwritten notes is a Fantine-Cosette backstory where his mother, a courtesan, gave him away to a good family after he was born. She sent them regular payments to ensure his care, but only found out when she was pregnant with SY that they had sold SJ off and were pocketing her money Unable to find SJ and unwilling to risk SY, she and the other courtesans raised SY within the brothel SY transmigrates into the body of a child at his sick mother's bedside with a twisted sense of deja vu having just vacated his own deathbed He doesn't know where he is, but if the orphan protagonist can make it to the sect, so can he right? (Transmigrator Halo? System? System why are you laughing??) He's barely into his second teens when SJ finds him. It takes no time at all after learning the truth for SJ to demand SY's guardianship and whisk him back to Qing Ding (See System? He DOES have a Transmigrator Halo, even if it is attached to the scum villain) SY is honestly shocked by how concerned(?) SJ is when packing his meager possessions. (No Jiu-ge (ew) no one has ever harmed him or touched him wtf would make you think they had?? He's baby??) It takes some time for glaciers to melt and for SJ to let SY in, but SY was raised around kind jiejies who taught him to be better than their worst clients and SJ feels safe around this little brat in a way he can't explain (SJ has had SY for five minutes but if anything happens to him SJ is taking out the entire mountain and then himself) YQY has NO idea how to react when SJ first returns with his brother, but he doesn't hesitate to smooth the way for SY's discipleship and watches from afar as SJ begins to finally let someone in, even if it's not him

SQH keeps telling Airplane he needs to work on his muttering to himself, that it's going to get him in trouble (bro you don't even know) but for once it's in his favor because SY overhears him just enough while YQY is sorting his shit out on arrival and suddenly they're just two spidermen pointing at each other on the peak

Cue the shenanigans of two hometown boys who have no bearing on the plot at all and are just along for the ride while their siblings handle the peaks. Anytime Qing Ding and An Ding need to work together on missions, these two volunteer and confuse the hell out of their martial siblings every step of the way

SJ does not trust the little logistics rat anywhere near his didi and glowers like an alley cat anytime Airplane is around (SQH is right, ofc. His brother IS weird and SJ does not trust it)

SQH meanwhile takes note of his weird didi's sudden and first friendship with SY and immediately starts keeping tabs on this kid because clearly Airplane's seerhood has steered him to SY for a reason, must keep note

The first time LQG makes any sort of fuss about SJ going to a brothel, SY forgets everything he's learned at the sect as Little Brother Mode™ activates to defend not only SJ but his jiejies too. (Fists are thrown. Hair is pulled. He might have bitten his shixiong, he can't say. He sort of blacked out for a minute there) Needless to say there isn't a second time and LQG has an hour long argument with his shizun about trying to poach SY for Bai Zhan peak while nursing a black eye (Airplane just side eying the GREMLIN that transmigrated here like bro wtf)

Before LBH even steps foot on the mountain, both their Systems ping about the incoming protagonist and it's not that they, you know, forgot about the story but they were distracted. Between finding each other and actually weirdly coming to care for these NPCs they... lost track of time

But the System pings and LBH enters the scene and SY refuses to let Airplane's work repeat itself (we're making your notes canon bro stfu and follow my lead. (what lead??? what plan??) I'm working on it!!)

It's a 50/50 crap shoot if SYs favoritism of bby!Binghe endears him to SJ or spikes up the resentment, but SY refuses to let harm come to LBH or for SJ to become the scum villain (someone is yelling, it might be SJ, it might be SY, it might be Binghe who doesn't want Shizun and Shixiong fighting over him)

On the other side of the plot, SQH is still a little snitch, even with his didi's visions guiding him to unprecedented success - but it's more than betraying the sect, more than wanting power and recognition. Seers are insanely powerful, highly sought after. Bringing Airplane to the sect protected him for awhile but SQH can't let him become a target. So when the OG meets MBJ, all his calculations come to a single unfortunate answer: throw your lot in with the biggest fish to protect Airplane (no one else can understand how weird his brother is because if they do his brother will end up dead)

Flash forward to when Airplane is squinting at his brother wearing fur collars year round, always running a little bit chilly for unknown reasons but refusing to see MQF about it. Airplane insists on SQH letting him check his meridians if he won't see MQF and SQH relents, puts his wrist in Airplane's hand, and squawks like a goddamn chicken when Airplane yanks his arm and tugs down his collar to reveal the mark of MBJ on his collarbone and SQH is once again met with that dead eyed 'bro do not fuck with me' stare

SQH does not question how Airplane knows, he just insists on Airplane staying far far away from MBJ (he might work for the demon, but he certainly does not trust him)

Of course Airplane defies all reason and knows the exact secret rendezvous point SQH uses (he did not suffer puberty twice to be denied seeing his most precious creation in the flesh, gege) and is spotted spying on the spy almost instantly by MBJ who is just holding him by his scruff and looking between a wide eyed Airplane and a barely-restrained-panicked peak lord like 'why oh why are there two of them'

Cue a full stand off between a demon and peak lord, ice knives at SQH's throat, a blade hovering at MBJ's heart, and Airplane just held like a kitten between them like fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck that SOMEHOW ends with MBJ rationalizing 'ah this weird mouse is important to my viper of a spy - if I want to keep the viper loyal, I will protect this mouse'

Which throws the Sheng brothers into a mess that neither of them know how to deal with. SQH thinks he needs to continue to be excessively useful to keep Airplane safe. Airplane can't let MBJ know he's his brother's best source or the demon might cut out the middle man. (Meanwhile somewhere MBJ just out here planning to court this weird little mouse to tie SQH's loyalties to him)

Whatever circumstances causes the Abyss plotline to trigger, SY 500% throws himself in after Binghe leaving SJ partially feral because his didi is in danger, Airplane CONCERNED, and SQH just casually like 'oh that's why my brother was interested in him, interesting' not at all realizing no, SY is likely just about to become his boss(-brother-in-law)'s boss's consort - whoops! whoops! whoops!

[mostlysignssomeportents]

Kickstarting a book to end enshittification, because Amazon will not carry it

My next book is The Internet Con: How to Seize the Means of Computation: it’s a Big Tech disassembly manual that explains how to disenshittify the web and bring back the old good internet. The hardcover comes from Verso on Sept 5, but the audiobook comes from me — because Amazon refuses to sell my audio:

https://www.kickstarter.com/projects/doctorow/the-internet-con-how-to-seize-the-means-of-computation

Amazon owns Audible, the monopoly audiobook platform that controls >90% of the audio market. They require mandatory DRM for every book sold, locking those books forever to Amazon’s monopoly platform. If you break up with Amazon, you have to throw away your entire audiobook library.

That’s a hell of a lot of leverage to hand to any company, let alone a rapacious monopoly that ran a program targeting small publishers called “Project Gazelle,” where execs were ordered to attack indie publishers “the way a cheetah would pursue a sickly gazelle”:

https://www.businessinsider.com/sadistic-amazon-treated-book-sellers-the-way-a-cheetah-would-pursue-a-sickly-gazelle-2013-10

[Image ID: Journalist and novelist Doctorow (Red Team Blues) details a plan for how to break up Big Tech in this impassioned and perceptive manifesto….Doctorow’s sense of urgency is contagious -Publishers Weekly]

I won’t sell my work with DRM, because DRM is key to the enshittification of the internet. Enshittification is why the old, good internet died and became “five giant websites filled with screenshots of the other four” (h/t Tom Eastman). When a tech company can lock in its users and suppliers, it can drain value from both sides, using DRM and other lock-in gimmicks to keep their business even as they grow ever more miserable on the platform.

Here is how platforms die: first, they are good to their users; then they abuse their users to make things better for their business customers; finally, they abuse those business customers to claw back all the value for themselves. Then, they die:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/01/21/potemkin-ai/#hey-guys

[Image ID: A brilliant barn burner of a book. Cory is one of the sharpest tech critics, and he shows with fierce clarity how our computational future could be otherwise -Kate Crawford, author of The Atlas of AI”]

The Internet Con isn’t just an analysis of where enshittification comes from: it’s a detailed, shovel-ready policy prescription for halting enshittification, throwing it into reverse and bringing back the old, good internet.

How do we do that? With interoperability: the ability to plug new technology into those crapulent, decaying platform. Interop lets you choose which parts of the service you want and block the parts you don’t (think of how an adblocker lets you take the take-it-or-leave “offer” from a website and reply with “How about nah?”):

https://www.eff.org/deeplinks/2019/07/adblocking-how-about-nah

But interop isn’t just about making platforms less terrible — it’s an explosive charge that demolishes walled gardens. With interop, you can leave a social media service, but keep talking to the people who stay. With interop, you can leave your mobile platform, but bring your apps and media with you to a rival’s service. With interop, you can break up with Amazon, and still keep your audiobooks.

So, if interop is so great, why isn’t it everywhere?

Well, it used to be. Interop is how Microsoft became the dominant operating system:

https://www.eff.org/deeplinks/2019/06/adversarial-interoperability-reviving-elegant-weapon-more-civilized-age-slay

[Image ID: Nobody gets the internet-both the nuts and bolts that make it hum and the laws that shaped it into the mess it is-quite like Cory, and no one’s better qualified to deliver us a user manual for fixing it. That’s The Internet Con: a rousing, imaginative, and accessible treatise for correcting our curdled online world. If you care about the internet, get ready to dedicate yourself to making interoperability a reality. -Brian Merchant, author of Blood in the Machine]

It’s how Apple saved itself from Microsoft’s vicious campaign to destroy it:

https://www.eff.org/deeplinks/2019/06/adversarial-interoperability-reviving-elegant-weapon-more-civilized-age-slay

Every tech giant used interop to grow, and then every tech giant promptly turned around and attacked interoperators. Every pirate wants to be an admiral. When Big Tech did it, that was progress; when you do it back to Big Tech, that’s piracy. The tech giants used their monopoly power to make interop without permission illegal, creating a kind of “felony contempt of business model” (h/t Jay Freeman).

The Internet Con describes how this came to pass, but, more importantly, it tells us how to fix it. It lays out how we can combine different kinds of interop requirements (like the EU’s Digital Markets Act and Massachusetts’s Right to Repair law) with protections for reverse-engineering and other guerrilla tactics to create a system that is strong without being brittle, hard to cheat on and easy to enforce.

What’s more, this book explains how to get these policies: what existing legislative, regulatory and judicial powers can be invoked to make them a reality. Because we are living through the Great Enshittification, and crises erupt every ten seconds, and when those crises occur, the “good ideas lying around” can move from the fringes to the center in an eyeblink:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/06/12/only-a-crisis/#lets-gooooo

[Image ID: Thoughtfully written and patiently presented, The Internet Con explains how the promise of a free and open internet was lost to predatory business practices and the rush to commodify every aspect of our lives. An essential read for anyone that wants to understand how we lost control of our digital spaces and infrastructure to Silicon Valley’s tech giants, and how we can start fighting to get it back. -Tim Maughan, author of INFINITE DETAIL]

After all, we’ve known Big Tech was rotten for years, but we had no idea what to do about it. Every time a Big Tech colossus did something ghastly to millions or billions of people, we tried to fix the tech company. There’s no fixing the tech companies. They need to burn. The way to make users safe from Big Tech predators isn’t to make those predators behave better — it’s to evacuate those users:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/07/18/urban-wildlife-interface/#combustible-walled-gardens

I’ve been campaigning for human rights in the digital world for more than 20 years; I’ve been EFF’s European Director, representing the public interest at the EU, the UN, Westminster, Ottawa and DC. This is the subject I’ve devoted my life to, and I live my principles. I won’t let my books be sold with DRM, which means that Audible won’t carry my audiobooks. My agent tells me that this decision has cost me enough money to pay off my mortgage and put my kid through college. That’s a price I’m willing to pay if it means that my books aren’t enshittification bait.

But not selling on Audible has another cost, one that’s more important to me: a lot of readers prefer audiobooks and 9 out of 10 of those readers start and end their searches on Audible. When they don’t find an author there, they assume no audiobook exists, period. It got so bad I put up an audiobook on Amazon — me, reading an essay, explaining how Audible rips off writers and readers. It’s called “Why None of My Audiobooks Are For Sale on Audible”:

https://pluralistic.net/2022/07/25/can-you-hear-me-now/#acx-ripoff

[Image ID: Doctorow has been thinking longer and smarter than anyone else I know about how we create and exchange value in a digital age. -Douglas Rushkoff, author of Present Shock]

To get my audiobooks into readers’ ears, I pre-sell them on Kickstarter. This has been wildly successful, both financially and as a means of getting other prominent authors to break up with Amazon and use crowdfunding to fill the gap. Writers like Brandon Sanderson are doing heroic work, smashing Amazon’s monopoly:

https://www.brandonsanderson.com/guest-editorial-cory-doctorow-is-a-bestselling-author-but-audible-wont-carry-his-audiobooks/

And to be frank, I love audiobooks, too. I swim every day as physio for a chronic pain condition, and I listen to 2–3 books/month on my underwater MP3 player, disappearing into an imaginary world as I scull back and forth in my public pool. I’m able to get those audiobooks on my MP3 player thanks to Libro.fm, a DRM-free store that supports indie booksellers all over the world:

https://blog.libro.fm/a-qa-with-mark-pearson-libro-fm-ceo-and-co-founder/

Producing my own audiobooks has been a dream. Working with Skyboat Media, I’ve gotten narrators like @wilwheaton​, Amber Benson, @neil-gaiman​ and Stefan Rudnicki for my work:

https://craphound.com/shop/

[Image ID: “This book is the instruction manual Big Tech doesn’t want you to read. It deconstructs their crummy products, undemocratic business models, rigged legal regimes, and lies. Crack this book and help build something better. -Astra Taylor, author of Democracy May Not Exist, but We’ll Miss It When Its Gone”]

But for this title, I decided that I would read it myself. After all, I’ve been podcasting since 2006, reading my own work aloud every week or so, even as I traveled the world and gave thousands of speeches about the subject of this book. I was excited (and a little trepedatious) at the prospect, but how could I pass up a chance to work with director Gabrielle de Cuir, who has directed everyone from Anne Hathaway to LeVar Burton to Eric Idle?

Reader, I fucking nailed it. I went back to those daily recordings fully prepared to hate them, but they were good — even great (especially after my engineer John Taylor Williams mastered them). Listen for yourself!

https://archive.org/details/cory_doctorow_internet_con_chapter_01

I hope you’ll consider backing this Kickstarter. If you’ve ever read my free, open access, CC-licensed blog posts and novels, or listened to my podcasts, or come to one of my talks and wished there was a way to say thank you, this is it. These crowdfunders make my DRM-free publishing program viable, even as audiobooks grow more central to a writer’s income and even as a single company takes over nearly the entire audiobook market.

Backers can choose from the DRM-free audiobook, DRM-free ebook (EPUB and MOBI) and a hardcover — including a signed, personalized option, fulfilled through the great LA indie bookstore Book Soup:

https://www.kickstarter.com/projects/doctorow/the-internet-con-how-to-seize-the-means-of-computation

What’s more, these ebooks and audiobooks are unlike any you’ll get anywhere else because they are sold without any terms of service or license agreements. As has been the case since time immemorial, when you buy these books, they’re yours, and you are allowed to do anything with them that copyright law permits — give them away, lend them to friends, or simply read them with any technology you choose.

As with my previous Kickstarters, backers can get their audiobooks delivered with an app (from libro.fm) or as a folder of MP3s. That helps people who struggle with “sideloading,” a process that Apple and Google have made progressively harder, even as they force audiobook and ebook sellers to hand over a 30% app tax on every dollar they make:

https://www.kickstarter.com/projects/doctorow/red-team-blues-another-audiobook-that-amazon-wont-sell/posts/3788112

Enshittification is rotting every layer of the tech stack: mobile, payments, hosting, social, delivery, playback. Every tech company is pulling the rug out from under us, using the chokepoints they built between audiences and speakers, artists and fans, to pick all of our pockets.

The Internet Con isn’t just a lament for the internet we lost — it’s a plan to get it back. I hope you’ll get a copy and share it with the people you love, even as the tech platforms choke off your communities to pad their quarterly numbers.

Next weekend (Aug 4-6), I'll be in Austin for Armadillocon, a science fiction convention, where I'm the Guest of Honor:

https://armadillocon.org/d45/

If you'd like an essay-formatted version of this thread to read or share, here's a link to it on pluralistic.net, my surveillance-free, ad-free, tracker-free blog:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/07/31/seize-the-means-of-computation/#the-internet-con

[Image ID: My forthcoming book 'The Internet Con: How to Seize the Means of Computation' in various editions: Verso hardcover, audiobook displayed on a phone, and ebook displayed on an e-ink reader.]

[disregardcanon]

i've been reading catching fire for the first time this year and i don't, personally, think that the quarter quell was a "smart move" for snow and the capitol even if things went the way that he wanted them to and katniss and peeta and all the rest died and he got a victor he could control. sure, it would have taken out katniss. but taking out katniss wasn't actually going to be the quick fix he wanted it to be.

because even the capitol citizens were upset about all of this. the capitol citizens, who had grown so used to having pretty victors to smush together like dolls and gush over and show that people from the districts CAN do something and make their lives better. it's the american bootstraps ideal made hideously manifest.

yes, they've been fed this propaganda diet that the games are proper retribution for a crime that happened a lifetime ago, but they're also supposed to bring out these Ideals TM the capitol claims to hold to and then the Beautiful Shiny Model Minority winner gets fame and fortune and safety and a promotion into capitol society. because they beat the odds and they won all these things! they *deserve* this!

now all of the privileged masses have these strong parasocial relationships where they thought they'd see their favorite athletes become safe and glamorous and happy. the social contract says that the capitol citizens get to have these lovely dolls to play with and now he's taking their toys away in a way that shows the propaganda never held any truth in the first place. if we don't actually value these people and what they represent, then why do we actually do it? (it's the cruelty. but the average capitol citizen doesn't understand that the cruelty is the point, because it took snow years and years and years of building up that Capacity for Cruelty, and most people never get to that point. there has to be a pretty facade over this for it to run smoothly for those average citizens like the prep team. and now it's not there anymore.)

and that's not even mentioning the different sort of horror this becomes for the districts, as the idea that's been sold to the wealthier districts is that if these children win they get fame and fortune and protection for life. but you're dragging them back into the horror that was supposed to buy their eternal glory? the careers aging out this year don't even have their "chance" in the arena to make their mark and gain their fortune. they'll just be losing some of their mentors in a pointless rehash.

in the poorer districts, perhaps there is some relief because their kids are safe this year but that means their only victors are being shipped off to die instead. and then their kids who won't have a chance in hell next year! because the hunger games are a perpetual motion exploitation machine, and the only way people were able to be numbed to it was figuring out the rules and then gritting their teeth and living their lives. but the rules are out the window, now. those rules that were supposed to make this terrible system something they could navigate and grit their teeth and suffering through are being blown to bits because snow tried to stomp out the tiniest embers instead of letting them burn out.

[leviathan-supersystem]

BEIJING — China’s struggling real estate developers won’t be getting a major bailout, Chinese authorities have indicated, warning that those who “harm the interests of the masses” will be punished.

“For real estate companies that are seriously insolvent and have lost the ability to operate, those that must go bankrupt should go bankrupt, or be restructured, in accordance with the law and market principles,” Ni Hong, Minister of Housing and Urban-Rural Development, said at a press conference Saturday.

“Those who commit acts that harm the interests of the masses will be resolutely investigated and punished in accordance with the law,” he said. “They will be made to pay the due price.”

That’s according to a CNBC translation of his Mandarin-language remarks published in an official transcript of the press conference, held alongside China’s annual parliamentary meetings.

Ni’s comments come as major real estate developers from Evergrande to Country Garden have defaulted on their debt, while plunging new home sales have put future business into question.

In 2020, Beijing cracked down on developers’ high reliance on debt for growth in an attempt to clamp down on property market speculation. But many developers soon ran out of money to finish building apartments, which are typically sold to homebuyers in China ahead of completion. Some buyers stopped paying their mortgages in a boycott.

Authorities have since announced measures to provide some developers with financing. But the national stance on reducing the role of real estate in the economy hasn’t changed.

This year’s annual government gathering has emphasized the country’s focus on investing in and building up high-end manufacturing capabilities. In contrast, the leadership has not mentioned the massive real estate sector as much.

Real estate barely came up during a press conference focused on the economy last week, while Ni was speaking during a meeting that focused on “people’s livelihoods.”

Ni said authorities would promote housing sales and the development of affordable housing, while emphasizing the need to consider the longer term.

Near-term changes in the property sector have a significant impact on China’s overall economy.

Real estate was once about 25% of China’s GDP, when including related sectors such as construction. UBS analysts estimated late last year that property now accounts for about 22% of the economy.

Last week, Premier Li Qiang said in his government work report that in the year ahead, China would “move faster to foster a new development model for real estate.”

“We will scale up the building and supply of government-subsidized housing and improve the basic systems for commodity housing to meet people’s essential need for a home to live in and their different demands for better housing,” an English-language version of the report said.

next time you complain about how things are in America, consider that if you lived in some kind of scary communist country like China, you wouldn't even get to fund a bailout for the real estate company owners who ruined the economy like you can (whether you like it or not) in the good old US of A! 🇺🇲

[megalony]

Just Hold On

This is my first time writing for Tyler Owens from Twisters, as I absolutely loved the film. I hope you will all like this.

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Masterlist

Summary: Tyler and (Y/n) head out together, just the two of them, away from the bustle of the team. But just as they're getting close to one another, a tornado blunders in their path.

(If anyone has any requests for Twisters I would love to hear them. Feedback is always lovely)

Enjoy.

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"You wanna get out of here?"

That one sentence had been enough to spark adrenaline through (Y/n)'s entire system and have her heart working on overload.

It had been something she had been waiting, hoping, praying to hear since the first moment she started to tag along with the 'tornado wranglers' and found herself getting close to the leader of the group. Tyler Owens. The man whose face was on a thousand t-shirts, sold all around the country in every state.

The man who acted like a beacon, like a daredevil who was so eager to put himself into dangerous situations without care or fault. But underneath, there was something endearing and almost bashful. Underneath all the boysterous exterior, there was someone who cared more for the safety of others than himself.

And (Y/n) wanted to be as close to him as she could.

It had been a bit of a surprise to find herself riding alone with Tyler in his modified, beat up truck, but she jumped at the chance to get away for a while.

It was a relief to escape the motel the group had been staying in. No more bonfires outside, no more strange, wild stories that got adapted and emboldened each time they were retold, depending on who told them. And going away from the motel saved (Y/n) from another night alone in her room, unsure what to do with herself.

Those words kept playing around in her head like a record as she sat in the quiet diner opposite Tyler. She wasn't sure why he'd asked her of all people to spend time with him this evening. There were better people he could be around, interesting people, his wrangler friends who never seemed to leave his side.

But none of that mattered now, because he'd asked her and here they were.

Her eyes lifted up from aimlessly staring at her drink to look at Tyler instead. He looked very relaxed. He was slightly slouched down to the left, one hand tapping quietly on the table beside his drink and the other hand drawing patterns on his thigh.

(Y/n) liked his shirt. She liked the black and blood red checkered button up he was wearing and the fact that he had the first three buttons undone. He also had the sleeves rolled up to his elbows, exposing his lower arms and the veins that were popping up on his skin.

From the closeness, (Y/n) could also see the few scars littering his skin. She could see little white lines slashed against the top of his arms and the deeper white and baby pink scars on his hands that looked like they would have hurt some time ago. She hadn't noticed them before.

From looking at Tyler and seeing all the YouTube videos, everyone would assume he came out of each tornado unscathed. But the scars on his skin gaveaway that he was still human, he still cut and bled and he had indeed been in quite a few scrapes over the years.

"What're you thinking so intently about?" His quiet, gritty voice brought (Y/n) out of her thoughts and she found herself dragging her eyes up from his arms to look at his eyes instead.

Those pastel green eyes looked unusually wide today. (Y/n) watched his eyes narrow a little as his head tilted at an angle so he could look her up and down in a way that had her stomach turning to mush. And his eyes creased when his lips curved into a low smile that had his cheeks puffing up at the sides.

"Just… just thinking about the chase today, and if it will be the same tomorrow." It seemed like a plausable excuse considering today's tornado had been low level two.

Tyler said those were the better ones to drive into or drive through, as the wind speed was lower and therefore made it easier not to get sucked up into the whirlwind. As much as he liked to drive and run into danger head on, he also seemed to enjoy playing it safe in some ways. He knew when a tornado wasn't safe to go into or when it was time to take shelter rather than run into the winds, as it were.

"And there's me hoping you'd be thinking of me." His tone was playful and his forming smirk was enough to make (Y/n) raise a brow as she took a sip of her drink.

"Why didn't you want to stay at the motel tonight, with the others?"

(Y/n) pushed her drink into the middle of the table so she could fold her arms together and lean forward. Her head inclined as she waited patiently for Tyler to debate the question and think of an answer.

He sat up a bit straighter in the booth, his left hand still quietly tapping away on the end of the table while his other hand shifted to curl around his glass instead. He looked more natural like this when he didn't wear his hat. Although his hat did suit him increadibly well and it gave off a good image, it was still a good chance to see him with his short blond strands roaming free and shifting through the winds when they were outside int he night air.

The diner they had come to was quaint, seemingly in the middle of somewhere and nowhere at the same time. There was a small motel to the left, much smaller than the one they had come from twenty miles down the road. Across the street there was a twenty-four hour store next to a gas station and there was a few scattered houses in the distance. It seemed like a small, compact little place settled right in the middle between two large towns.

Tyler glanced around the diner. He hadn't been here before, but he remembered it was here when they drove past at least three times in the last week. That seemed like a coincidence, a sign telling him he had to stop here at least once and check it out.

There weren't many people here. A young couple at the far end. A mother and daughter the other way. A few workers and one lonesome person at the bar having a few drinks. It was quaint, quiet. Just what they needed after days of chasing tornados and being surrounded by noisy but loving friends.

"Sometimes it's nice to get away." Tyler reached out for his drink while his eyes remained on the girl sitting in front of him.

"What are you getting away from?" She spoke before she could think better of it, but Tyler didn't seem annoyed by her question. Instead, his smirk shifted into a funny half smile, half pout that crinkled the end of his nose.

"Everything… the cameras, the questions, the noise. What about you, what are you getting away from?"

Tyler had been more than intrigued when (Y/n) joined their group. She didn't strike him as the chasing type. The type to go willingly into danger, looking for fun and trouble and answers to nature's mysteries. But that wasn't to say he wasn't happy that she had joined them. She had insight, she had instinct when it came to the changes in weather and the wind patterns and her curiosity for these natural disastrous phenomenon matched Tyler's.

"I'm not, I'm just following your path."

"Right into danger," Tyler twirled his index finger around in circles beside his head with a wicked grin that could make anyone fall to their knees. "You must be crazy."

"Must be." (Y/n) murmured in agreement. There had to be some part of her that was mad or deluded to do this, to do what the rest of Tyler's team was doing. Following him into the line of danger simply because they all believed in him and what he was doing.

But (Y/n) knew it wasn't just a strange, crazed part of her brain that let her follow Tyler's lead, wherever that lead. She knew the other reason she had stuck with them for so long now was because she couldn't will herself to leave. To leave Tyler. He had her heart in his hands and she didn't want it back.

(Y/n) found herself starting to become lost in her thoughts again until Tyler suddenly pushed forward in his seat and leaned over the table. He picked up his glass and downed the last remnants before tapping it against the table with a wide grin.

"Shall we?"

It wasn't clear whether Tyler was planning on getting back in the truck and going straight back to the motel, whether he was thinking of driving around for a while. Or maybe he had it in mind to walk around here first and delay their return. (Y/n) wasn't sure, but she nodded her head and went along with him, she was fine with whatever he chose.

She shuffled out the booth and moved to walk by his side, realising they were close enough that their arms were brushing together.

When Tyler held open the door that chimed a bell, signalling their departure, (Y/n) dipped her head and headed out in front of him.

Their steps fell back in sync as (Y/n) followed Tyler's path towards the truck that was parked across on the left, near the quaint but rather grimey motel.

She was about to try and strike up another conversation until Tyler moved. Without looking her way or breaking his stride, his left hand reached out for her hand. He moved slow, testing the waters as he took her hand in his, meshing their palms together and slowly entwining their fingers together. Giving (Y/n) ample time to pull her hand away and back out if she didn't want to.

But he dipped his head down when he felt her fingers squeeze his hand with intensity and she held to him just as tightly. He began to glide his thumb over the back of her hand and ticked his head to the left, a small but sincerely genuine smile plastered across his lips as he looked at her.

The silence between them was comfortable and seemed to speak volumes in itself. (Y/n) found that one of them- she wasn't sure who- had moved even closer so that their arms were now pressed flush together and if she really wanted to, she could lean her cheek on his arm.

She could feel his thumb gliding over the back of her hand every now and then and she tried to stop herself from squeezing her fingers against his hand too often. Their steps slowed down as they approached the truck as if they were both trying to drag this moment out and make it last into an eternity. Not that they couldn't make this evening stretch on if they got in the truck, they could take a longer route to get back. They could drive somewhere else or drive around aimlessly if they wanted.

(Y/n) wasn't sure what to do when they reached the red truck that was hidden behind layers of dirt and caked on mud and flecks of grit. She had one mind to reach out and open the passenger door and climb up, but that meant letting go of Tyler's hand, and she really didn't want to do that.

Instead, she opted for turning so her back was against the door, allowing her to look up at Tyler instead. She found her back pressing back on the door and she hoped there wouldn't be an outline or an imprint of her frame on the door when she eventually pulled away.

Her head tilted back to get a better look up at him and her heart leaped into her throat when Tyler stepped forward. Their hands stayed tangled together. Tyler's right hand pressed against the roof of the truck, allowing him a good angle to look and lean down into (Y/n)'s view.

His head inclined down until they were impossible close, less than half an inch of space between them. All (Y/n) had to do was turn her head and their noses would brush and their lips would touch. She was so close to those red lips that were curved into a smile, not a grin.

Not his usual smirk or that cheeky grin that meant he was going to do something rash or make a joke or try to enlighten the situation and make fun of what they were doing.

The look was kind, caring and seemingly thought out, rather than rash and impulsive.

"Can I?"

(Y/n) barely heard his words and she wasn't quite sure why he was asking when she knew she was at the point of smiling up at him. If she didn't want him to be this close or get any closer, she would have backed away or given him a shove by now.

The feeling of Tyler's lips on hers was something (Y/n) had been imagining for a while now, and something that beat every thought and expectation she had.

She could feel Tyler trying desperately not to smile against her and distort the kiss. And his hand tightened around hers while his other hand moved to cup the side of her face and incline her head more to meet his touch.

When her lips parted, it felt like Tyler was trying to take the little air she had in her lungs and she found herself gasping against his lips, desperately wanting his touch but also needing air.

Tyler's lips curved into a lighthearted smile when they finally pulled apart and their temples rested together. He began to smooth his thumb along the curve of her jaw and up towards her lips that tasted like cherry lip balm. Their noses brushed and when he sucked in a few breaths, Tyler couldn't resist leaning back down for another kiss.

He felt (Y/n) push off the truck and mould their chests together, leaning into him just enough to nudge him onto his back foot and push them both away from the truck. She didn't want to get in the truck yet. She didn't want this moment to end, and neither did he.

"You know, I've-"

Words formed in Tyler's mind like a whirlwind. Everything he wanted to tell her, to say that he had been in agony wanting to kiss her for days, weeks, now. He hoped she felt the same. He wanted to make tonight last into an eternity and stay in this little bubble they had created together. He wanted to continue kissing (Y/n) until the world ended.

But none of those thoughts made it past his lips when something caught his attention.

A shift in the atmosphere. A change in the wind. A very harsh chill collided against his back and almost knocked him off balance.

The wind made goosebumps rise on his flesh and had the hairs at the back of his neck standing on end. And another gust of wind sent chills down his spine and made him feel every little speck of dust and grit that rose from the floor and scuttled through the air and knocked against his skin.

Tyler's hand paused, cupping (Y/n)'s cheek and his fingers slotted tighter into the grooves of her hand as he tilted his head back to look up into the night sky.

It felt familiar. It felt daunting.

(Y/n)'s hand clutching his shoulder brought Tyler back and he looked down at her to find that she wasn't looking at him. His name fell past her lips in a dry whisper and Tyler turned to look over his shoulder to find out what (Y/n) was so intently staring at, although he had a gut instinct that he already knew what would be behind him.

A tornado.

A gust of wind circling through the air, picking up in the atmosphere, creating a whirlwind that was mounting and doubling in size.

Why now? Why tonight? Why right here? Right when things were finally going well, when Tyler was finally about to have something different in his life, someone different who wanted him just as badly. They didn't want or need a force of nature interferring tonight, but it was too late.

The tornado was getting closer. The wind was picking up and it was moving across the road in a sporadic pattern that was shifting and changing every second. If Tyler tried to drive through that they would get picked up and ripped apart into oblivion. There wasn't time to try and drive in the other direction, they couldn't outrun a tornado, they could only follow and drive into them.

Tyler's hand dropped from (Y/n)'s face to grip her waist with a sudden desperation while his wide eyes stared around them, trying to find the best place to be. Where was the best place to hide? Did the motel or the diner have a cellar?

The diner had a window on every wall, it was more glass than wall and that wasn't good. Hiding in there meant being close to broken glass and tables and chairs would go flying.

The motel was one story, not like the one they were staying at in the next town which had two floors and a lot more rooms than this. It wouldn't be a safe bet either unless there was a cellar or a storm shelter in the grounds. The shop and the gas station didn't look to be much better and Tyler didn't want to be anywhere near inflammables. The storm could knock things over and rip up the gas pipes. Fires could start and they would go up in flames.

"We have to help them."

He wasn't sure who (Y/n) was talking about for a moment until she used their tangled hands to point towards the motel.

People were starting to rush about. A woman was trying to hurry her daughter towards a car. She was never going to drive through this, their car would be taken from the road and they would never survive.

A quiet "Come on," passed Tyler's lips as he turned on his heels and started to run. He kept his hand tightly tangled with (Y/n)'s, keeping her as close as he could so he didn't lose her in the chaos that was about to ensue.

He felt her other hand curl around his bicep, making sure they stayed tethered together so nothing separated them.

"No, no stop!" Tyler waved his free hand out in front of him, desperate to get the woman's attention as she tried to lift her daughter into the car. "You can't drive in this, we need to find shelter."

He reached out for her arm, not attempting to move or drag her away from the car at all, but just to try and show the desperation he felt and make sure she understood they were only trying to help.

The woman eyed him carefully, tears already falling down her face as she held her daughter against her chest, trembling horribly. But she nodded. Either she knew who he was and knew he had been in this situation before, or she had some sort of instinct that Tyler was trying to help.

She juggled her daughter higher on her chest, kicked the car door shut and turned to follow them. She wasn't sure where they were going, but she would go any way they led if it meant keeping herself and her child safe.

The four of them burst into the motel reception and it was the first time Tyler let go of (Y/n)'s hand. A wave of unease overtook her and she could feel goosebumps travelling up her arm from her empty hand. But when she looked up at Tyler, she found he was already looking at her, as if making sure she was still there now he had let go.

Once satisfied, Tyler slammed his hands down on the desk to get the worker's attention.

(Y/n) tried to look around, but she couldn't see anything. The door to the back room was open, but there didn't seem to be anywhere leading to a cellar or a bunker room or anywhere that looked remotely safe.

She could barely hear Tyler arguing with two men, trying to ask one if there was a storm shelter and tell the other to shut up because there was a tornado approaching. Her arms cocooned around her chest and she spun in circles until she stopped and looked out the window.

Where could they go? Would they be safe enough staying in here? Maybe they could cramp behind the desk, but that didn't feel like a safe option, not when there were at least seven of them here in the reception. Too many to cramp together. The motel could be destroyed if the tornado was big enough, staying inside might not be safe.

Her body flinched at seeing plastic tables and flimsy chairs flying across the grounds outside the window.

Going back outside didn't seem favourable, until (Y/n) squinted in the darkness to see where the chairs were coming from and what was behind the fence up ahead.

She spun on her heels and moved towards Tyler who was close to slamming his fists on the desk in anger because no one seemed to be taking him seriously apart from the mother and her daughter. But the tension fizzled out of his body when he felt two familiar hands on either of his arms. He looked over at (Y/n) as she pressed up into his side.

"There's a pool."

"It's empty this time of year."

"We're not going swimming. Come on." Tyler waved his hand at them, relieved to see the mother, her daughter, and the reception worker were moving to follow. The other couple seemed intent on staying in here and complaining, waiting for the tornado they didn't believe in to come and ravage the motel that would undoubtedly be in its path.

They weren't trying to go for a late night swim and water wouldn't be the safest place to hide during a disaster like this. But pools were deep, at least one end would be very deep. It would act as a shelter, safely made of concrete and built into the ground. It would give them some cover and keep them from being whisked up into the air and taken by the wind.

(Y/n) found her hand clasped in Tyler's once again and she followed him out into the blistering wind, the others following close behind.

It was hard to keep her eyes open and she had to tilt her head down towards her feet to keep pushing forward. Her forehead pressed into Tyler's arm and she gasped, her body shaking as a chair whipped past them, breaking apart mid-air as it got pulled in too many different directions all at once.

As soon as Tyler wrenched open the small gate, it flung back with so much force the hinges started to squeak and break apart. He pushed ahead and leaned over the edge of the pool, checking just to make sure it was truly empty. The last thing they needed was to find it full of murky water that wouldn't provide them any sanctuary.

It was empty.

"Go, go!"

(Y/n) would have preferred someone else to take the lead and go down first, but she could see the mother and the receptionist looking at her. Waiting for her to move, to show them what to do and prove that it was going to be okay and that it was safe. And Tyler wasn't going down there until everyone else was there and towards safety first.

She shakily let go of his hand and twisted around to grab the metal rails that were thankfully drilled so far into the tiles that they would remain stable during the raging winds.

She climbed down half the steps before jumping the rest, she didn't want to waste time.

Once she was down, (Y/n) could feel her balance shifting. The floor was sloped towards the left which was obviously the deep end and combined with the raging winds that were almost forcing her off her feet, she couldn't stand straight.

Her eyes squinted through the weather and she stretched her arms up for the little girl. No point wasting time when they could just pass her down this way.

Once the girl was safely in her arms, (Y/n) clung to her and looked around. the pool must have been in the middle of renovation, for one wall was broken apart so the pipes were revealed. Just what they needed, something to cling to.

She let go of the girl once her mother had clambered down the steps and took hold of her again. "Go to the pipes."

(Y/n) bound her arms around her waist and stood to one side, if it could be called standing when she was being shaken from foot to foot, leaning every which way the wind blew her. Once the worker and Tyler clambered down into the sanctuary of the empty pool, (Y/n) moved closer but her arms stretched out towards them when each of them heard the motel sign begin to creak.

Sparks flew in all directions, casting golden splinters into the wind and the sheets of hail that were flying all around them. The sign swayed and rattled and groaned until finally the metal gave way and snapped apart, falling directly in their path.

None of them could move quick enough and everything seemed to happen at the speed of light.

Both (Y/n)'s arms bound around Tyler when he backed up into her and she felt his hand clamp down on her left hip so tightly his fingers were going to bruise into her skin and his nails were piercing through her jeans. She felt his back slam into her chest and the pair of them slammed down to the floor as the sign landed in front of them, only one inch away from crushing their legs.

It separated them from the receptionist who was shrieking in panic, cast across the other side of the pool.

"Okay?" Tyler managed to splutter as he tilted his head back into (Y/n)'s shoulder and looked up at her through squinting eyes. He watched her nod and he could feel each rapid breath she took which fanned against his back.

He gave her hip a squeeze before he peeled his hand off of her hip and flopped over so he was lying on his stomach. He couldn't stand up. If he did the wind would take him. He had to spread his weight out across the floor so he was heavier and harder to be moved by nature.

He could feel (Y/n) shifting behind him so she was in the same crouching position.

"Go."

"But-"

"Hurry and don't let go." He flung his hand towards the other end of the pool where the pipes were. He needed (Y/n) to stay safe, he would help the man who was still shrieking on the other side of the collapsed sign.

Twisting around, Tyler tried to army crawl along the floor but he was sliding towards the left. His teeth gritted together so tightly it felt like they were going to disintegrate and his jaw was pulsing.

"Stay down- just- no. Stay down, let me help!" He felt like a broken record, repeating various versions of those words but to no avail.

The man wasn't listening to him. He was desperate not to be swept away by the gushing winds, but he wasn't heeding the advice he was being given. If he stood up he would be a target for the winds, he would be easier to move and liable to falling. Staying laid on the ground was his best bet.

"Help me!"

"Get down-" Tyler's hand slammed into the floor and split apart the skin covering his knuckles as a scream left his lips when the man got up.

The tornado got him.

It claimed him as one of its many victims. The moment he was on his wobbling feet, he stumbled backwards, flung his arms out, and took flight like an ailing bird caught in the sea breeze. He was gone. There was no helping him or getting him back. He had been taken and Tyler couldn't do anything. Maybe he would of been better off staying in the motel.

"Tyler!"

He crained his neck to look over his right shoulder and glanced back at the three girls behind him. They were cowering against the pipes like they were in some form of protest.

The mother had her whole frame curled around her daughter who had both small arms tangled around the pipes. If the wind picked up anymore her arms looked like they might break, but it was securing her from a weightless death in the air and that was all that mattered.

But it was (Y/n) who held Tyler's attention. Her arm bound around a pipe and her hand clinging to the one below to anchor herself down. Her legs were trying desperately to curl up into her stomach but they were starting to flail around in the air. And her other hand kept moving out in Tyler's direction, grasping for his attention to tell him to get over to them. He had to move. He had to come over and stay safe with them. (Y/n) couldn't lose him.

Tyler's teeth ground together causing a splitting ache in his jaw as he slammed his arms down on the concrete ground. He could feel the pads of his fingers beginning to split and grate against the floor as he shuffled along on his front. It felt odd, army-crawling along like this with the wind trying to lift his legs from the ground and pick him up.

More often than not when a tornado was approaching, Tyler was in the truck driving head first into it. He wasn't hanging around on the side of the road or taking cover in an abandoned pool.

Groans and yells clawed past his lips as he got closer and closer to his destination. To (Y/n).

He could feel his knees scraping against the floor when the wind tried to drag him backwards and he pushed up on his left arm just enough to stretch out his hand.

The feeling of (Y/n)'s hand enveloping around his was the lifeline Tyler needed and she used what little strength she could spare from holding herself steadfast to drag Tyler closer.

Once he was close enough, (Y/n) managed to let go of his hand so she could bind her arm around the pipe again. She couldn't afford not to hang on when she could barely keep her legs from flailing around in the air. Her eyes snapped closed and her forehead pressed against one of the larger copper pipes. It didn't feel like a good move when the wind shook her head and had her temple bashing against the pipe. But it was preferable to having her neck break when her head wobbled every which way but loose.

She could feel Tyler behind her, wedging himself in between her and the mother and daughter. Right in the centre in case either of them let go or needed help or something happened. Ready for action.

But surprise flooded (Y/n)'s stomach with adrenaline when she felt him move.

Tyler's left arm secured over (Y/n)'s arm and his hand clutched desperately next to hers. His chest moulded down over (Y/n)'s back, his arm pinned down over her like he was a blanket securing around her and his right arm reached up to cling to the higher pipe. Both Tyler's legs pressed up into the back of (Y/n)'s knees from the way he was kneeling on the floor and it made (Y/n) feel like she was sitting on his lap. But she didn't care.

He was moulded around her, trying to keep her safe and shield her from the elements. And when he tipped his head down, (Y/n) was sure that despite the raging winds, the whistling sound of metal flying through the air and the distant screams, she could hear him breathing into her hair. It was almost as if he was kissing the top of her head with each harsh breath he took.

"Just Hold on." His voice was loud to compete with the raging winds but it sounded so hollow and quiet in (Y/n)'s ears.

She found herself holding tighter, curling up even smaller, pushing her back against his chest. Doing whatever she felt she could to try and stay where she was and ground herself until the tornado was gone. How long would that be? Was it going to disappear soon? Would it continue and grow larger and suck in the nearby winds and clouds? Would any of them be able to hold on for much longer?

(Y/n) knew if the winds weren't whipping at her face so much, she would have burst into tears by now. She could feel a few leaving the corners of her eyes and being wrenched off into the winds, but those were tears of desperation. Tears trying to moisten her eyes and prevent them from cracking or becoming glued shut with grit and dirt.

She wasn't even close to shedding tears of fear and agony yet. Those would happen once the weather faded, she knew it for sure.

The panic (Y/n) could feel circulating through each and every part of her body momentarily died down when she felt Tyler move. His left arm that had been pinned beside hers briefly let go of the pipe and his iron clad arm bound around (Y/n)'s waist instead.

The action caused her to suck in a deeper breath which shocked her lungs that were trying to take shallow breaths as not to inhale any dust or little objects flying through the air. She couldn't open her eyes yet, but she could feel his arm right around her waist and his elbow digging securely into her side just above her hip.

He tugged her back closer to his chest so there was no inch of space between them and his hand secured around a lower pipe so he could hold them both down.

"Stay down, I got you."

He wad anchoring them both together, keeping steadfast despite the elements.

Neither of them quite believed it when the raging winds finally started to die down. In a matter of moments, it was if a switch had been flicked. Everything stopped. Plastic chairs stopped flying through the air. Metal beams and broken chunks of plastic and wires stopped taking flight and were no longer dangerous weapons of nature.

Cars crashed down to the floor and the road, breaking apart on impact, wheels spinning and crashing off into different directions.

Destruction was all that was left in the tornado's wake.

(Y/n) felt her legs slump against the floor and her body slumped to the right, clattering against the pipes now that the wind wasn't lifting her up anymore. She felt Tyler somewhat cushion her fall as she fell back into him and she realised his face was still tucked down against the top of her head. Now she could hear his harsh breaths fanning against her hair which almost felt like he was kissing her head.

Each breath Tyler took was ragged and harsh and made his chest heave and push out against her back. And (Y/n) found herself finally able to open her eyes as she flopped her head back against his shoulder. The action caused him to lift his head, but he simply pressed his lips against her temple this time and kissed her forehead.

She stayed still and horribly tense as Tyler shifted around and wrenched his hands away from the pipes, but his left arm remained steadfast around (Y/n)'s waist.

He looked to his right and reached his free hand out for the woman's elbow, a soft yet slightly bewildered look in his eyes as he croaked "Are you okay?" To which she nodded and hugged her daughter closer who seemed to be mute in utter shock and despair.

"What about you, are you alright?" Tyler looked down at (Y/n) and rested his lips back against the top of her head again but he sighed when he looked at her. He could see her hands were welded onto the pipes, trembling but holding tight, unable to let go for fear of being whisked away into the atmosphere.

He felt (Y/n) try and nod her head but she stopped when he reached his free hand out and carefully curled his fingers around her hand.

"You're okay, you can let go now." His words were so quiet (Y/n) wondered if she had imagined them and she found her hands trembling horribly when Tyler carefully peeled them away.

She dropped her hands down and clutched at his forearms, leaning her head at an angle so she could look up at him better. He looked dashing from this angle, even after an event like that. His hair was barely tousled, only a few strands out of place. He had a few cuts on his hands and exposed arms and no doubt he would have a few bruises, but he looked relatively unscathed.

"And you?" (Y/n) gulped croakily, squeezing his arm as she continued to look him over, checking for any sign of injury that would need attending to.

"I'm fine."

He nudged his temple against the side of her head and closed his eyes for a few seconds to try and regulate his system. He wasn't used to seeing tornados up close like that unless the truck was involved. It had been a while since he had been through one on the ground like that.

"You know," (Y/n) started through deep breaths and welling tears. "I prefer tornados when you drive through them, Mr Wrangler."

Her words had a wide, toothy grin spreading across Tyler's lips and he let out a breathless laugh before he leaned forward to steal a kiss from her slightly chapped lips. Then another. And another.

"Me too, sweetheart."

[omelepun]

Translation because i tried to write cursive and failed horrendously:

“04.28.516

The mints are growing quite well. Collected basil today for Senshi’s new recipe. Tomorrow fertilize soil.

Yusef came by m(orning). Fed cod. Left.

(Ear) more rounded than others—stick out?

Kabru came by to eat. Skipped breakfast again. Must I move into the castle to feed you?

Drank w(ith) Chilchuck and Senshi. Puckpatti had to drag him home.”

I’ll talk a bit about this. This is a page from Mithrun’s journal after he has settled down in the kingdom, and is currently running a ramen or udon or whatever-they feel-like-making-that-day shop with Senshi. I was really inspired by Kui’s sketch of Senshi’s journal and thought that since they are friends post canon (hopefully so) Mithrun will want to keep one like him as well.

He was an aristocrat after all so I think he would have had some sort of training in drawing or classy hobbies like that. And him trying to rediscover desires, he draws miscellaneous things in his daily life living with the townsfolk and merchants in the market, and Kabru, he draws Kabru a lot. Pages after pages of him, that he hides.

But he still can’t get Kabru quite right, and he gets upset about it. New desire to draw him better I guess haha. Him purchasing the finest lapis lazuli pigment sold in the market to draw his eyes, but it never looks right to him. He gets frustrated,,oughhh…

And I also thought it would be funny to have a stray cat that keeps sneaking into his house to steal his food, so he just feeds it whatever is available, preferably fish, cod. He calls it Yusef because the kids he teaches self defense do. The cat distribution system at its best, he doesn’t even know he is a cat owner until he is one.

He drinks with Chilchuck and Senshi sometimes, they’re the middle aged men gang, yay🩷

I really hope you like this tumblr, I tried to make it somewhat poetic but it just turned out kinda cheesy, oh i hope not, yeah

[marimoscorner]

Consumerism & Witchcraft

Written by Marimo (he/they)🌿

I’ve seen a turn for the better in some witchy spaces regarding consumerism in the past few years, but overall it still tends to be an issue for us as a community. I’ve decided to try and breakdown the pitfalls I’ve noticed in my own journey, in the hopes that it will inspire and assist others. I’ve also provided alternatives and ideas on how to make small changes in our practice to help us better protect the Earth, stick it to the failing system and still acquire our bits and bobs we love so dearly.

As always, I am no authority on any subject nor am I perfect—but we’re all learning as we go, so let’s dive right in 🌿

A Preface

There are some things that should be made entirely clear before we begin:

You are not a bad person for wanting an aesthetic

You are not a bad person for unknowingly falling into pitfalls. Only if you continue to purposefully do so after knowing better

You are not a bad person for consuming content/objects or for not always making the most sustainable decisions. At the end of the day, we can only control our small part of environmental impact, while the rest is left up to the major corporations that make more pollution than any of us ever will

You are only human. Show yourself some grace and understanding that the internet so lacks.

My Experience in Consumerist Hell

I have fallen victim many times to consumerism in witchcraft. Starting my journey at the ripe age of about ten years old and heavily in the broom closet, I was quickly drawn in by the shiny rocks, the brand new candles and scents, the promise of new tarot decks and pendulums and other fancy, shiny new equipment. I was consuming an online aesthetic along with my ideals, and it distracted me from starting my journey by learning well.

I began to spend my birthday and holiday money on the aesthetic of things. While, granted, I still did buy a few literary resources now and again from my local secondhand bookstore—I was stubbornly ignoring the sage advice to learn and understand first before diving in headfirst.

I purchased statues, crystals, too many tarot decks to use. I purchased osteomancy bones I later returned to the earth, for I had not done enough research to know that that animal was mine to practice with. I had a tankard full of incense sticks, and even a growing pile of books that would not be read. While I liked to consider myself crafty with my homemade Maypole and various hand-bound Grimoires, something was becoming apparent: this was all a distraction.

The aesthetic I was partaking in was providing me with a false sense of progress and practicality.

When I’d go to do a tarot reading, I’d become far too overwhelmed with choosing a deck to read in the first place. When making an offering to a deity, I’d feel pressured to also bolster the altars of all the other deities I’d set up, and with my wide pool, the connections felt muddy. Often times I’d be off-put on a project or spell because I knew I needed to film it and it needed to look nice.

In the long term, I don’t have many of these items today. I’ve sold and donated a vast breadth of them. Feeling overwhelmed costed me a few years retreat from my craft to recuperate. However, what has stuck with me is the knowledge I picked up along the way.

So, What’s the Issue? TL;DR

I’ve noticed a few issues here in making these mistakes myself.

Consumerism absolutely distracts you from learning and your craft

Overconsumption leads to environmental damage. If everyone hoarded supplies, there would not be enough to go around. And with what gets thrown away every year…it paints an ugly wound on the Earth

We damage our learning abilities by not allowing ourselves to be anything less than perfect

The need for aesthetic creates barriers to entry within the community and creates a divide of haves and have-nots

You won’t be able to truly follow your individual path if you are only consuming and not creating for yourself

Consumerist culture promotes appropriation. Metaphysical stores carry items from closed practices (such as white sage and palo santo, or coyote bones) because someone is buying them. Don’t be that person, and find alternatives relating to your own culture instead

Consumerism can influence your spiritual decisions based upon monetary inclinations (where some may sacrifice a quality ingredient over a higher quantity of a lower quality ingredient)

So, what can we do?

Firstly, I want to clarify that I am not against collecting, nor am I against maximalism or the beautiful visual aesthetic we carry as a community.

I am an artist a very visual person and understand the longing for a beautiful home and workspace. However, this aesthetic shouldn’t come at the cost of irresponsibly harming the Earth or another community.

Thus, I’ve compiled a list of small things that I will be incorporating into my practice to make it more mindful and sustainable. I hope that you’ll join me in a few of them.

Minimize Supplies. While I used to have a huge selection of stationary for my Grimoire, I now limit myself to a simple pencil and watercolor set if I’m feeling artistic. This helps me actually use my Grimoire for study, rather than to keep perfect. It’s also friendlier on my wallet!

Thrift Supplies. There are plenty of perfectly good items that get donated daily. You can get high-quality candles and holders, old crystal bowls for altar offerings, spare crafting supplies, fabric for alter cloths and even clothing if you so wish—all for a fraction of the cost new and while saving the planet just a little bit more. Hell, you can sometimes even find good silver!

Share Supplies with your Community. You can create a sort of barter system with other witches in your area. Perhaps you create a sigil for them, and they provide you with a candle spell. Play to your strengths and grow together!

Look for Creative Outlets. Do you really need to go buy an altar statue that’s been mass-produced? Or can you give your deity the personal gift of a drawing, painting or even hand-modeled or hand-carved rendition? This will also deepen your connection to your craft and your magic, and make it more meaningful and stronger. If you really like something, though, go for it!

If you aren’t the artistic sort, consider supporting an artist before going to a large company. While I haven’t purchased from them myself, Blagowood on Etsy has beautiful deity statues carved from wood by their small team in Ukraine for a comparable cost to the standard mass produced metal statues. I consider this extra labor of love going into these pieces and those of similar small companies to be much better energy for my practice. I myself may put out some art prints and other handmade supplies in the future, but I will likely spread them around my community first.

Try Secondhand Books. While not available in every area and further still not as available for witchcraft and occult books, you may strike luck! Not only are secondhand books less expensive, but you’ll be supporting a local business. That’s not to say you can’t buy firsthand books, but some searching around may be beneficial to the earth and to your wallet in the long run.

Be mindful of where you source supplies and decor. If you are a fan of taxidermy decor, make sure that you source cruelty free. Bats can practically never be sourced without cruelty, so if a shop carries them, I’d be mindful of their other specimens. The same goes for if a shop decides to forgo a culture’s wishes and carry supplies sacred to them, such as white sage or dreamcatchers. Supporting folks who turn a profit off of others’ suffering is not something many would wish to include energetically in their craft.

Search the Wild for Tools. Find sticks, flowers and other plants out in the forest. Learn how to rockhound in your area for crystals. Your craft will be more powerful the more connected it is to the land you are surrounded by. Be sure to reference guides for safety and legality!

Get Creative with Purposes. If you are having difficulty finding exactly what you need by thrifting or searching, make another tool multipurpose if it would do the job good enough. Find supplies that are easy to source and work as substitutes for other ingredients (ex. Quartz as a stand in for other stones)

Spend more time Doing. Go out into the woods (safely) and advance your connection to the earth instead of worrying over the perfect item for your collection. Your craft will benefit

At the end of the day, all of this is your decision. Take what you like, and leave what you don’t. Even if we don’t agree, I thank you for your time and open mind. I will continue updating about how I incorporate these steps, and I will also hopefully post more on witchy crafting in the future.

I wish you well, and hope you’ll decide to follow along on our journey!

[esotericbluntbaby]

HIIIII i love your writing style so bad, i came on here to request something and then i see you doubt your own writing which is crazy cuz they're all good!!! can i request hamzah and reader in something worse than a situationship so she brings out like someone attractive along at a party or something (it could literally be a gay man that offered to help her idk) to see if it'd make him jealous and it actually does. IM SORRY if you get too mant jealous hamzah requests but i just yearn for him, PLS have angst in the beginning 😭😭🙏🏼🙏🏼🙏🏼.

worsened aches

hamzahthefantastic x reader

description: though toxic and envious, you realize that your situationship had to have gone through the worst in order to better itself for the sake of you and hamzah.

mentions: angst (expect it at this point), yearning, posessiveness, toxicity in a situationship out of confusion, she/her pronouns, both hamzah and reader are equally mean to each other so hopefully it cancels out, a guy making you uncomfortable and grabbing your hand, a fight scene, happy ending, sfw for the most part

listen to partynextdoor while you're reading lol. specifically make it to the morning or resentment but honestly any will do <3

--

"you're literally fucking crazy- what are you talking about?"

you and hamzah were currently going at it like two players on rival teams. though your relationship, or lack there of, was toxic and overly complicated, you both stayed in the same rooms you fought in because of the loneliness that consumed the both of you. obviously, arguing wasn't fun, nor was it ethical for the sake of your mental health, yet, bickering with someone else was somehow better than spending your nights alone and depressed.

you met hamzah because of how loud he was. you were, and still are, his neighbor who moved in a couple months ago. getting annoyed of the lack of sleep, you decided to march over to his apartment in the same manner that the guardsmen stomp in front of the royal palace; they had the queen to defend, while you had your sanity to fight for. over time, the friendship and simultaneous rivalry stemmed from that night and bloomed into the situationship you have right now.

you and hamzah technically aren't anything; technically, you and hamzah are nothing more than just friends who occasionally act coupley to fill the voids that call you to jump out of windows and balconies. you both were lonely, creating a seemingly win-win situation. he comes over whenever he needs someone to cuddle at night, or more than cuddle, and vice versa. it's been a system that's worked out for about eight-ish months now.

as all situationships do, it was bound to crash and tumble like hurricanes over the ocean. over time, the lack of a label caused more problems than einstein could sold. neither of you had a complete understanding of the boundaries you each wanted, nor did either of you want to risk creating a more serious problem than what it seemed to be by talking about it. so, over time, resentment built itself up within the foundations of the connection between the both of you as communication began to settle in the roots of the ground it was built on.

the night started alright; it was simple making out, occasional pecks on the cheeks and forehead, and constant physical touch. he even bought you food and fed it to you while you two sat on the couch and watched comfort movies. your presence was enjoyed as much as his was. it was normal that whenever hamzah was over, you'd completely lose sight of the bad parts of the connection you have after any part of him would touch you. however, the mood quickly changed when hamzah answered the call of another girl while on your couch. watching his smile expand at her words as you were cuddled up right beside him caused a pit to grow within your chest. it felt wrong. technically, given that you two were friends, it wasn't; however, the fact that he was all over you two seconds before you both heard the ringtone was, in fact, wrong. you moved away, distancing mountains and seas between you two on his couch, as eventually the call became silent and he hung up. you wouldn't speak to him. growing annoyed, he forced you to speak, to which you called him an asshole for "damn near flirting with a girl in front of you." thus, his gaslighting begun.

"hamzah, what do you mean, 'what's wrong with me?' what's wrong with you?"

he scoffed, "fucking nothing. nothing even happened- i have no clue what you're talking about. why are you making something out of nothing?"

"that's so fucking mature. you told me to talk, didn't you? or did i just make something out of nothing again?"

"oh my god, that's not what i meant- dude, why are you even mad? it's not like i did anything."

you raised your eyebrows, "my head was literally on your lap while you were flirting with her."

he slowly emphasized his words, "i wasn't even flirting with her."

"you made your voice deep like you were fuckin' neil degrasse tyson, are you joking? and what the hell was she saying that was making you laugh that hard?"

he put his hands up in defense, "it's not a big deal. so what if jess called me and i laughed when she told me a fuckin joke? it's not that deep."

your body felt like it was rising in temperature, "you're actually such a liar- we both know that it was that deep, bro. that's literally how you laugh with me."

"why does it matter if that's how i laugh with you?" he made a noise between a laugh and scoff and looked back at the television, "it's not like we're dating."

he was right. you weren't dating, so you can't be upset. you knew you mostly wanted that reassurance that he wouldn't find someone else while messing with you on the side, though you assumed that hamzah wasn't like that. you've had the run down of a bad dating history and horrible ex's and, yeah, hamzah was kind of bad. however, hamzah was bad in a way where at least it was to your face, unlike the infidelity and lies in your past relationships. unlike them, the worst that hamzah would do was get defensive over an argument or say something that was a little too mean on accident because he was genuinely just speaking his mind. honestly, the touch and treatment he gave you during the times you weren't bitchy towards each other evened out the slight toxicity; actually, even surpassing it. however, this was too far. this was a lie and you knew it. it was a lie that he specifically told to hurt you on purpose.

sure, maybe you could've gone a different direction with confronting him and maybe you were too aggressive with your accusations; but at the same time, you were also hurt that he would do that in front of you, as your head rested a couple of inches away from his heartbeat. the intimacy of the setting the both of you were in was overtaken by a green bogeyman; envy in its personified form.

the room fell silent as he kept on watching the movie. he only looked at you when you sniffled from tearing up so much. you guys have argued in the past, but never have you cried in front of him; this was vulnerability that you allowed to seep through you like sunlight seeps through the roots of a plant.

his attention was now fully on you, "are you crying?"

"hamzah, i want you to get out of my place."

"wait-"

you stood up and began to walk through the door, "let yourself out the door and don't come back. i'm done."

--

three weeks without him had passed and you were an emotional wreck; a wreck that was so bad that other cars on the road had to stop to see it for themselves. throughout the stages of grief, you were currently on the acceptance stage. you hadn't left you apartment ever since that night out of fear that he'd be leaving his, next door. a couple of times, you heard the knock that you two made for each other to signify that it was the other person at the door. with each knuckle to the wood, a pang in your heart thumped harder and with more rigor. luckily, it only lasted a total of a week before he stopped coming over.

since any romantic encounter or even simple things around your house reminded you of the man next door, you were going to continue to rot in bed whilst watching horror movies. however, the plan was quickly changed when rey, the gay man you met at a club a couple of months ago, decided to text you.

rey :p

5:42 pm | hey boo

5:42 pm | i haven't talked to you in forever

5:42 pm | how r u?

you

5:43 pm | im horrible

5:43 pm | u rmbr the guy i used to talk to u about

rey :p

5:44 pm | the one that was ur bf but also not ur bf?

5:44 pm | like the one that u showed me a pic of and i said he had the same eyes as central cee

you

5:44 pm | yeah

rey :p

5:44 pm | what'd the bitch do

you

5:45 pm | he was genuinely being an asshole

5:45 pm | he literally picked up the phone right

rey :p

5:45 pm | mhmmm

you

5:46 pm | it was a girl

5:46 pm | i was laying my head down on his lap

5:46 pm | and i guess she was the funniest person in the world or smth bc he was laughing his ass off like a fucking idiot

rey :p

5:46 pm | bro hell no

5:46 pm | r u serious

5:47 pm | r u okay

you

5:47 pm | bedrotting lowk lol

5:47 pm | haven't gotten out of my bed in like a full three days

5:48 pm | idk i guess i js miss him

rey :p

5:48 pm | it's reasonable

5:48 pm | im going to a party tn

5:48 pm | come with meeeeee

5:48 pm | maybe u just need a distraction

you

5:49 pm | idk rey

rey :p

5:50 pm | go get dressed and pls shower dont be stinky

5:50 pm | ill pick u up at like uhhhh 8ish

you

5:50 pm | fine

--

you were two drinks down when rey was only tipsy from one drink. being the designated driver, he didn't want to overdo it; yet, he reassured you that he'd take care of you throughout the night. you were simply enjoying his presence; however, given that it was his friends' party that he was going to, occasionally you were left by yourself leaning on walls or sitting on couches and getting up when a couple started to make out on the leather right next to you. after a while, you began to regret going; the more you were alone, the more you thought about how hamzah would be towering over you like some sort of bodyguard in order to make sure that nobody spiked your drink.

as you were zoned out and thinking about him once again, you suddenly came into focus when rey went up to you and gave you a side hug. confused, your eyebrows furrowed as you looked up at him.

"are you thinking about him again?" rey asked, taking another sip of his seltzer.

you sighed, "is it that obvious?"

"if you wanna go home, i can take you. i'm sorry if i pushed you too hard to go out- i just didn't want you to stay home crying over some boy."

"no, yea, i get it. thank you, really, maybe i just needed to go outside. are you ready to go home?"

"i was just gonna drop you off and come back."

you didn't want to seem like a burden; rey was only trying to help you with coping. to have to drive a whole thirty minutes just to drop you off and come back seemed like too much to ask for; after everything that happened with hamzah when it came to begging for communication and reassurance, you hated seeming like you had too much to ask for. so, you took a deep breath and began to brave the waters even more; this was new territory for you that you were now forcing yourself to become familiar with for the rest of the night.

"no, it's okay. i'll stay- i kinda don't wanna be alone," you half-lied.

he put his hand on your shoulder reassuringly, "are you sure?"

"yeah," you sipped the vodka cranberry out of your red solo cup, "i'm sure.

"well," he began to give you a hug with his back facing the front entrance, "if you do wanna leave, tell me."

you hugged him back, "i will. thanks, rey."

unwrapping his arms from you, he walked in the direction of the party as you still stood near the entrance. however, you soon realized that his body was blocking the very sight you tried your best to avoid; hamzah was standing right in front of the doorway, dressed in one of the outfits that made you weak. standing with his friends, his hard expression fixated on you as he realized that some other guy was on you the way that he was. you locked eye contact, sensing the tense gaze he scorned towards you. you decided that it was time to go to the bathroom.

--

sitting on the cold tile for about twenty minutes helped ground you to the reality of your situation. you came to this party hoping to escape the emotions that he made you feel after basking and bathing in them for the past three weeks, however, the same guy appeared right in front of you at the worst time possible. you could go one of two ways: go bother rey and make him drive thirty minutes to and back from your house just to drop you off, or to stay in the bathroom.

considering that someone knocked on the bathroom door as you were pondering, you decided to choose neither of the options and chose a secret, third one: to stay so that rey can enjoy his night.

leaving the bathroom into a relatively empty hallway, you felt an odd stare as you walked past a tall man holding a beer in his hand. you heard and felt his heavy footsteps right behind you, trailing after you in the dark area. you started to walk quicker towards the end of the hallway, reaching the entrance to it that led to the living room where a couple of groups of people were.

"where are you going, pretty lady?" you heard from behind you.

you ignored him, finding his remarks uncomfortable and weird.

you felt his breath on your neck, "y'know, it's rude to ignore a man who's interested in you."

"leave me alone," you sternly demanded.

"what, are you a fucking prude or something?" he asked, grabbing your wrist.

"what the fuck? let go of me, now," you warned as his grip on you tightened, causing your heart to drop all the way to your bladder.

suddenly, he was being pulled off of you and pounded into by someone's fists so fast that it could possibly beat the speed of light; you could tell by the way that the figure punched that it was hamzah. you didn't even see him in the room before he was on the floor with the man from the hallway. you stood there, motionless with worry for hamzah's physical being, as people attempted to intervene and pull hamzah off of him. you watched as hamzah was pried off of him by martin, scolding him and asking him what he was doing. luckily, the man simply left the area and hamzah went into the bathroom, alone.

luckily, the room went back to the usual conversations relatively quick, since it lasted a couple of punches thrown in by hamzah; in addition, a couple of people were staring at you as you yelled at him to let go of your arm. you didn't know how to feel. what if he didn't get him off of you? would you have gotten assaulted? or even worse? however, those thoughts also simultaneously existed with thoughts of how hamzah got there so quick and why he just pummeled a guy into the floor, even after you two weren't on good terms. nevertheless, you went against your goal of avoiding anything hamzah-related and walked to the bathroom.

knocking on the door, he took a minute to turn the knob. he saw you in front of him and gazed at you with an expression that you haven't seen on him before; a mixture of everything felt tonight and, possibly, for the past three weeks. you got a good look at how his eyebags were more protruded as if the skin had a second layer. his eyebags mixed with the lilac and ruby shades mixed in led you to believe that he was struggling to sleep; it was as if you were looking at a mirror.

"can i come in?" you asked.

though you realize that this is stunting your ability to heal, his voice was comforting, "yeah, sure."

he sat down on the closed toilet, as you sat down on the rim of the bathtub besides it. he stared at his hand, bruises and redness already forming on his knuckles, as well as an open gash on his ring finger. you got up from the bathtub rim and crouched over to the cabinet below the sink, watching his eyes linger onto you as you searched for something to clean out his would and wrap it. taking out a roll of bandage and wound cleaner, you sat back down. you gently took his hand in yours and began to clean his wound.

"this might hurt," you mumbled.

you squeezed the wound cleaner as he winced, a sour expression with his eyebrows scrunched on his face apparent. you began to wrap his hand, trying your best to be as gentle as possible. you still felt his eyes on you, like you were a puppet performing in front of an audience.

you broke the silence, "are you drunk?"

"what?"

"y'know, have you drank anything since you got here."

"oh- no, no i haven't."

you ripped the end of the bandage off, attempting to tie it onto his hand, "so, you beat his ass completely sober?"

he chuckled, "yeah."

"it was stupid."

he gave you a look of disbelief, "what?"

"hamzah, you could've hurt yourself! what if he had a knife on him or a gun or just something-"

"you're telling me that i'm stupid for getting a guy, who was clearly making you uncomfortable, off of you?"

you sighed, "no, hamzah, you're not stupid. i'm saying that your actions were stupid because you could've gotten seriously hurt and i don't want to be the reason you're in the hospital. i don't want you to get hurt at all."

"well, would he have done it?"

puzzled, you tilted your head to the side, "who?"

"the- fuckin- the guy you were with- him- would he have done this for you?"

a chuckle of disbelief escaped from your throat, "why does that matter?"

"i saw him hugging you and shit, he should've done what i did- where was he when you needed him? why'd he let you go to the bathroom by yourself?"

"why does it matter if he was hugging me, hamzah? why does it matter if he left me alone?"

"because if you're gonna replace me with him, he has to be better than me!" his voice got slightly louder, causing you to jump, "fuck- if we're not together anymore, you have to find someone that could take care of you as well as i did or even better."

your eyes squinted with annoyance, "hamzah, you literally just said that we were just friends. what are you talking about 'we're not together anymore?' you were the one who said that we weren't ever together."

"i fucking lied, okay? i lied. i fucking lied to you because i can't handle the fact that you wanted more and i- i just- i can't be enough for you," he rushed as the information in his head that he wanted to let out was twice as fast as his words, "i wanted more too. fuck, i wanted more so fucking bad- you don't get it, but i'd be selfish if i just took you all for myself even if i couldn't give you everything that you deserve."

emotions began to implode within your chest, "are you serious? you could've fucking tried or, better yet, you could've just talked to me, hamzah! genuinely, what the hell are you even talking about with that 'i couldn't give you everything' shit. i don't want everything, i just wanted you."

your breathing became heavier as tears began to flow out of your eyes once more, mirroring the scene at your apartment that lead to this very encounter. though you laid in bed for three weeks, you didn't cry once, not ever since the time you last cried in front of him. every single fear was running rampant in your head from speaking to him with such vulnerability. yet, you soon realized that there was no point of holding back. he was already watching you intently and listening to every single word you were saying, gazing at you with longing eyes that yearned the longer you were sat in the bathroom. there was no turning back now, so you decided to tell him everything that you've been feeling and thinking in the past three weeks of agonizing heartbreak with one, singular sentence. with breaths heavy within your chest and tears now streaming down your face, you let go.

"hamzah, i just want you."

in that moment, hamzah saw the heartbreak in personified, human form. he watched you crumple apart in front of him like balls of paper about to be thrown into a trash can. hamzah went into the situationship with the thought that it would be the best possible outcome; the outcome where there's no mess to clean up, nor promises to keep, nor expectations to maintain. the situationship was, in his eyes, a way to keep you both from being hurt. knowing that his very intention was to not hurt you at all, as he watched you crying your eyes out in front of him, finally caused the the realization that he was supporting the very cause he was against.

hamzah didn't know what to do, yet, he knew he had to make this right for the sake of you, him, and the connection between you two.

hamzah lifted you up onto his lap, unsure and hesitant, watching your reaction to his actions. watching the tears on your face slowly stop sliding down and your breathing get slightly lighter, he believed it was okay. he wiped your face with his thumbs with such gentleness to it; in hamzah's mind, he has broken you down to the point where there's cracks in your skin, so he was trying his best not to shatter you completely. after gazing at your eyes with a sympathetic, longing, and apologetic stare, he gently brought your face closer towards his. he closed the gap between you guys' lips, a wave of nostalgia and comfort overtaking the vulnerability that was just in the room. over time, the kiss got more desperate and aching. your lips chased after each other as your tongues moves synchronously with the same feelings of past despair and hopelessness. your hands were roaming up and down each other's bodies as if it was meant to be explored by each other; as if you were both artifacts meant to be excavated. it lasted fifteen minutes; the passion radiated from you guys' bodies even after you stopped kissing to breathe. hamzah was the first to speak.

"i know you came here with a date, but i can't take it anymore. i need you in my life, baby, i need you back and i need you back now. the past couple weeks i haven't been sleeping or eating or doing anything besides just sitting there and realizing that i'm a fucking idiot. i never liked the girl that i was on the phone with and i blocked her right after i left your place, that night. i don't even know what i was doing and i shouldn't have even picked up in the first place- i should have never said we were just friends. i was lying. i was a fucking liar and you can do whatever you want to make me pay for that. you can slap me as hard as you can or burn my hoodies or anything, baby, just-please forgive me, i'm sorry. i'll do anything to have you back in my life-"

you cut him off with a slow, gentle, and lingering kiss, once again. pulling away, he admired you like he was in a trance that he wasn't willing to be broken out of.

"i'm not dating rey. he's here with another guy."

hamzah looked puzzled as he rubbed loving circles onto your thighs, "what?"

"he's gay."

"thank fucking god," he let out a sigh of relief, "i think i felt my heart genuinely shatter when i walked in on him hugging you."

you laughed, "you were that hurt over it?"

"of course i'd be. it's you."

"yeah, yeah, don't flatter me," you teased.

hamzah's expressione turned serious once again, "baby, please come back to me. i'll make it all up to you if you let me, i promise. i don't care how long it takes or what i'll have to do. let me prove to you that i can take care of you."

your expression also became serious, "it depends. are you taking care of me as my idiot neighbor who occasionally comes over to do things that friends don't do?"

you asked the question expecting him to answer that he'll do better than that, however, he surprised you once again.

he took your hand and kissed it, "no, i'll take care of you as your boyfriend, if you'll let me."

--

authors note!

hi guys this is so late i am going to bed goodnight!

[mercif4l]

/𝗶𝘁 𝗴𝗲𝘁𝘀 𝗲𝗮𝘀𝗶𝗲𝗿.

pairing: reader x choi 'buzzcut' vernon genre: angst, hurt no comfort wc: 1.2k summary: fingers off the unblock button or you're gonna regret it, girl content warning: angst bro. lovers to strangers, mentions of eating difficulties, rotting post-breakup, self-flagellating, i might wanna write an alt. ending to this bc what on earth is it so sad for.

it gets easier: they’re right about that, which pisses you off, frankly, but that’s just your pride talking. 

first, you go no contact and it destroys you, and the rot makes your blood spill a darker, angry red, like cardinals on the cusp of their death. 

then the rage is followed swiftly by embarrassment. at the circumstances, the context, your response, his response (or lack thereof), at being a human being with emotions beyond your control. it turns your teeth brittle and sore, and you can’t muster the courage to smile anymore, but at least you’re eating again. 

the songs that dominate your breakup playlist fall into obscurity in the belly of your liked songs. savored, chewed up, swallowed, sizzling away in the same acid that digested ‘fireflies’ by owl city some 15 years ago. 

now, they only startle you after their second chorus plays through the shitty sound system of some target eight months later. 

then there’s that big, bulbous, obnoxious conclusion: acceptance. 

maybe it’s the exposure therapy? 

you see his face everywhere, not seeking it out, but not avoiding it either. you’re … you deserve to see that he has moved on. it’s good for you to see him and try to accept the feelings that linger (beyond bitterness and resentment). 

because where that tunnel ends, you know he has made you happy. he persists in making you happy, still. the better memories are too plentiful to count or ignore, and his stupid grin always makes you grin right back, no matter the distance—even if it is watching some moment of fanatic hysteria explode on twitter. 

so it does get easier. yes, even as you’re inundated with pictures of him performing to sold out arenas, or modeling brands whose names you know he's too scared to try and pronounce, or shuffling through an airport with a too-small baseball cap haphazardly hiding a new haircut. wait. a new haircut?

it's like something possesses you. one minute you're doomscrolling, the next you're neck deep in carat twitter's discourse over some fantaken photos.

while thousands of fans scream back and forth over something that will inevitably be confirmed in the next 24 hours, you realize-or remember-you're only privy to this news as a statistic. you're just another view in an algorithm. and that no one thinks (or cares) to ask you about hansol anymore, knowing you no longer have a place by his side. 

oof. yeah, that still stings a bit. accepting you have no right to know, or otherwise being limited to investigative fangirling.

but you haven’t given yourself any room for mistake making so far, so why would you sully that clean streak? for the sake of haircut curiosity? what a stupid thing to suggest. idiotic, really. self-sabotaging idiocy. 

to: +82 *** *** **** hey! new haircut looks cool. so sick the company finally let up. hope you’re doing good 👍 

now, without the warm embrace of imessage’s delete option, you’ve kinda/sort of-fucked yourself. 

“it gets easier my ass. yeah, yeah, gets easier to behave like a freak.” you berate yourself, sliding the phone across your table and vastly underestimating the distance it’d take to fall off. as you dive to catch it (and fail), that deafening ringtone only gives you reason to let it drop, to shatter the thing beyond recognizing its screen. but with this stupid heavy duty phone case hansol had bought a year back? no dice. 

from: +82 *** *** **** haha thanks man ended up begging for forgiveness rather than waiting for permission :P from: +82 *** *** **** craaaazy how hard i tried to cover it up just to be clocked the second i stepped off the plane lol

you snicker at that. how ‘hard’ he tried?

to: +82 *** *** ****  boy you wore a cap nothing was gonna cover that loooow taper fadeee 🎶  from: +82 *** *** **** brooo i was supposed to wear my hoodie but i got overstimulated  from: +82 *** *** ****  and i hope ur doing good too by the way  from: +82 *** *** ****  kinda geeked to hear from you haha

you have to put your phone down. this is dangerous, dangerous territory; like, walking through burning sand, sunburned and windlashed, toward a mirage. you have got to put your phone down. 

to: +82 *** *** **** honestly just wanted to wish u well for the new year and lyk the buzzcut is super cool B)

these stupid keyboard emojis are a little secret you both keep. something silly you only use with each other that is so inconsequential, you can’t help but let your cheeks burn an angry red at their return. 

why does it have to be so easy? 

you are going to put the phone down, now.

to: +82 *** *** **** i’m sorry for blocking you—even though we said no contact it felt pretty immature. from: +82 *** *** **** glad u like the hair. was kinda bummed u weren’t the first to see it haha could only imagine the look on your face calling u after the cut or sending u a selfie :’) from: +82 *** *** **** nah i deserved it

he didn’t deserve it. sure, his whole being him shtick was what made the separation so excruciating in the first place, but you’d made the decision mutually. albeit a bit prematurely. in the way all confused adults do when they preempt disaster and jump ship at the first sign of smoke. 

from: +82 *** *** **** that sounds crazy dramatic i just mean from: +82 *** *** **** it made sense? like it didn’t take long for me to get why you’d done it from: +82 *** *** **** i just figured pretty early on u knew what u were doing. you always did/do lol 

your finger hovers over the call button. never before has it felt so offensive, so risqué to do such a thing, but you know that by ignoring the arbitrary rules of a breakup you’re tempting fate. 

it doesn’t matter that before, you could do it as freely as you wished. that before, he would always pick up and never once avoided answering. before, you could send jibberish voicemails to litter his inbox, quadruple double triple text, or simply tell him to ‘ring’, and he’d oblige; because before you were in love. now, you’re an unnamed contact.

now, you stomp on the ashes like they’ll relight after a year being burned out. 

from: +82 *** *** ****  happy new year by the way!!!! from: +82 *** *** **** and belated happy holidays :) i pried and kwan let slip you got a billy joel record from him from: +82 *** *** **** i didn’t know you’d kept our player. why does that make me so happy?

you need to put the phone down. you have got to put the phone. you are going to put the phone down, now. 

your stiff finger taps that blue icon before you can even think to stop it. it’s unfair, really, how this has to happen, but it was inevitable. because no amount of money in the world could buy you enough dignity to do this properly.

because when it comes to hansol, you’re nothing more than a fool. 

caller id [+84 *** *** ****] > you will not receive phone calls, messages or facetime calls from people on the block list. confirm? caller blocked. 

delete message history? 

a/n: vaguely inspired by @xinganhao rockstar!reader and vernon breakup chapter.... like what if we all suffered more... because im a SICK MASOCHIST! and kae is my unknowing muse. also sorry for going afk and happy new year</3

[divinebeautyrevealed2]

Top Five Models: Bio for Veronika Zemanova.

"I was born in a small city in the Bohemian region of the Czech Republic on the 14th of April, 1975. My childhood in The Czech Republic was a lot different than it would have been either in another time (for instance now, after the fall of Communism) or another place (like in the West). Although it was different, it was still wonderful, as all childhoods should be. My parents were great and I had a lot of good friends. At an early age I became very interested in biology and the visual arts. I dreamed then of becoming a biologist. In 1989, I entered my first year of gymnasium (or high school, as Americans call it). This happened to be the year that everything changed for everyone, not only in the Czech Republic, but in all of what used to be the Eastern Bloc. The first years of the new system were particularly difficult years for just about everyone. It was during this time that many beautiful Czech girls left for the West, looking for opportunities to make more money than they had a chance to earn in the Czech Republic. I was, of course, too young to leave, so I stayed and finished gymnasium."

"After gymnasium, I spent three years at a photography school. To make for money for school (which was expensive) and living expenses, I did a whole bunch of different things: I was a bartender, a saleswoman for such things as wallpaper and photographic equipment, and I started my own photo studio. The studio was just beginning to be successful when someone stole all of the very expensive equipment, some of which I had not even paid for yet. At this point I was forced to return to working for other people (I much prefer working for myself). I bought a large make-up kit and began working as an assistant to photographers and make-up artists. It was very difficult work and did not always pay that well, but I enjoyed myself and learned a lot that is useful to this day. One day, I had a big job scheduled for the next day and was preparing for it when I realized that someone had stolen my entire make-up kit! I went to the photographer in tears of frustration to tell him that I could not do the work. He suggested that I work the event as a model instead. Thus began the wonderful modeling career of Veronika Zemanova!"

"I was very surprised to find that after that first modeling job (which I hadn't believed I was pretty enough for) I was being offered all kinds of other modeling jobs all over the world. Initially all I wanted to do was to make enough money to pay off all of the equipment that had been stolen, but soon I had made enough to not only pay that back, but had enough to start an entirely new and better studio. I was working at the studio as a photographer, agent, and make-up artist while also doing modeling work for others. Soon however, the modeling became too time consuming for me to put in the necessary hours at the studio, and so I sold the studio. These first years of modeling were not easy! Remember, at first I did not speak any English at all! Being in new countries alone, finding myself in strange and even risky situations, and so forth. However, I don't want to sound as though it was only bad or difficult; I was able to travel extensively, it was exciting work, I learned English (finally!), and made many beautiful photos of which I am still proud. And good money!"

"After I had been modeling for a while, I decided to start a web-site with an Italian photographer. The idea to do this came about after seeing so many photos of myself on the web. Eventually however, I decided to disassociate myself from the site, and am no longer connected to it in any way."

"I created my own web-site and it was very successful. I believe this will be the best site of its kind and that I will really enjoy the chance to not only model, but photograph, act as an agent, and maybe even do make-up! I hope you enjoy it as much as I will enjoy creating it!"

"I always wanted keep my private life totally unknown to the public. That is what all the glamour models do. But I have decided to break the rule to reveal that I was married on November 12, 2003, in a ceremony performed on the beach of the island of Mauritius. I did it because I am in love. I have also decided to quit my glamour-modeling career. I had a choice between a career or a good relationship. I have chosen to make the man I love feeling happy and comfortable with me. This is why I have chosen to stop modeling. Do you think this is risky? But that's what love is about. You need to take risks. Please do not be sad for it and wish me luck."

Veronika's modeling career which began in ernest in 1997 would end after a 12 year run in 2009. Those years would furnish us with well over 30000 photographs and videos which will forever immortalize the beauty which was/is Veronika for this generation and those to come. Her very last professionally taken photo was shot by Scotty JX at her Ibiza property on Sept. 28, 2009.

Even the photographers who worked with Veronika were awe struck by her beauty as a few of them recount below:

Early on Veronika went to Italy and worked with such greats as Roberto Rocchi and Alberto Magliozzi. Roberto Rocchi even went on to quote in his book "Forme e Percorsi Del Corpo" that Veronika was "a wonder of nature".

J.Stephen Hicks went on to write in his Hall of Fame post about his experience with Veronika:

"Veronica Zemanova was (and is) truly one of a kind. And I was the first American photographer to shoot her. Someone from Prague (can you believe I don't remember who) sent me photos of her and I (we) immediately made it our mission to contact her, fly her to the U.S. and shoot her. We agreed by e-mail to do several days of work in our studio in L.A. and then fly her to Mexico for additional scenes. Upon arriving at LAX, Veronica was shy and honestly a bit untrusting. She'd just turned nineteen at the time and was green in every way. Veronica grew up in a little Czech town called Ceske Budejovice and her beginnings were poor and without stability. One thing was for sure, Veronica had no idea how truly beautiful she was."

"We spent the first days shooting her giving her complete direction. Seriously, dictating every move of her body from head to toe, including expressions. It was a bit like working with a perfect doll that we were animating. And honestly at that point in her evolution, not really trusting us and not really knowing her beauty and being such a newbie model, I think she wasn't having a great time. Despite knowing she was gonna get a bunch of money her modeling personality was kind of benign to be honest. She wasn't mean or bitchy, just kinda stuck in neutral. Funny thing was though, it didn't even matter. 'Cause Veronica was flat out GORGEOUS or would the word be SUBLIME or RAVISHING?"

"Lets just say she was simply STUNNING, BREATHTAKING, and MIND BLOWING"

“We shot her a ton on her first trip to the U.S. and we also took her to Mexico for some unforgettable images. She came back and shot with us several times after her first journey. The last time we shot her she was a few years older, had new boobs (crazy huh?) but best of all she'd met her husband, a man she said loved her more for who she was than what she looked like. And Veronica was beaming, warm and happy. And we were happy for her."

"There will never be another Veronica I'm certain. She was one of kind that will never be reproduced unless computer generated. I consider us oh so lucky to have experienced shooting her at the very best time in her career. Her images of beauty will live on forever".

[moonsaver]

Yan!Alhaitham wears you to work.

It was easy. Finding your shampoo, soaps, scents.. practically any daily use items that you usually bought from the bazaar. He stalks you almost casually – nodding at you familiarly when you do spot him, as if seeing him for the 5th time in the same day wasn't creepy. You seem uncomfortable, but don't bother confronting him about it. Mainly either due to the fact you don't want a confrontation, or you simply aren't sure if he's stalking you in the first place.

In the shower, your scent fills the entire bathroom. He considers any free time now dedicated to thinking about you. The fabrics you wore yesterday seemed to have a few loose threads. According to the bottle of perfume he bought at the same time as yours, yours is running out. A visit to the old lady tucked away in the corner of the bustling street is probably on your weekly schedule, now. The scent of your soap clings to his skin comfortably, emanating gently in a still space. If he stood for long enough, your acquaintances might actually realise they're smelling you on him. Whether or not it's a good thing.. who knows. He doesn't care.

The tap stops, and he steps out. The droplets of water follow his feet as he walks. Your towel – or rather, a duplicate he bought. Your scented oils. Your hand cream. Your preferred ink, pens, even the bookmark you'd recently bought. All of them are assorted neatly into his drawer. All duplicates, of course. His diligent hand picks up the perfume bottle, the liquid ebbing on the glass surface as he tilts it in the sunlight. Your birthday's coming up soon. He's also recently caught wind of your favorite flowers – this time by accident. His prickly ears manage to pick up the particularly interesting conversation you had approximately 16 days ago, when you mentioned the recent Sumeru Rose body lotion you'd just bought. Although, he's not blind. He's observed the twitching of your hands towards the Lumidouce Bell scented bottle that was recently imported. You had to draw your hand back by force due to the price. Your birthday's coming up. He managed to get a look at the price after you left dejectedly with the one you were talking about.

His fingers press and spritz the perfume over his clothes. The fabric must have practically shaped themselves to the drops of the perfume from how often he's sprayed it in the same place, but now his closet smells like you. Perfumes last longer than lotion, he thinks. He should just get you a different perfume, instead. The merchant sold Lumidouce perfumes, too. Your birthday's coming up. The fact repeats in his mind. Should he get you a card? No, that's not enough. He saw you recently pick up a romance book. Unfortunately for you, it's a series, and the last he's heard about it – is it has deadly cliffhangers. He'll probably gift you the next volume.

He feels a slight tug of a smile on the corner of his lips, his fingers sliding over the vast collection of books, landing on the stiff spine of a book. He's already bought it in advance. Should he sneak in a small card in there? That would be better. If he remembers correctly (which he always does); you should have half the day off on your birthday, and you plan on spending it with your friends and family. He'll give it to you before you clock out. Maybe, he thinks, if his words sift through well enough, he'll manage to squeeze himself into your guest list. So, for the time being, he thinks up certain conversation topics for today, and the next day, and so on until your birthday. By rough estimates, you'll be familiar enough with him to invite him just shy of a day or two before. The door of his room clicks as he leaves.

The Akasha had not much use to Alhaitham until he realized the significant potential it had after that Cyno-prediction system those sages crafted up. He manages to tinker in his own study enough to make a special version of you. And so far, it's 100% accurate. He can already visualise you on your way to work, and the conversation he has in mind. Your responses are crafted skillfully by the device in his head, before you even think about uttering them.

[sayusims]

Maomao mini analysis

Maomao in The Apothecary Diaries is such a sad character, but she doesn't act like it because, in her world, it's kind of normalized. First, her mom, an esteemed courtesan, essentially hated her because she gave birth to her. Her biological dad is gone and not in her life (we know it wasn’t by choice, but this is from her perspective). She was raised in a brothel, and while she had people there who loved her, it's still a brothel. Even after she was adopted, she still had to take precautions to make sure she wasn’t going to be kidnapped or that nothing else would happen to her because of men.

After all of this, when she was still a teenager, she was kidnapped by a couple of guys and sold to the Emperor’s palace. These events are really traumatic, but at the same time, she still has the same indifference—as if she doesn’t care that much. She wants to stay in her own lane, and with her tactical genius (stemming from both her parents), this is relatively easy to do. But I wanted to know more, and since I’m taking AP World History in school, it wasn’t really that hard to understand why.

The Apothecary Diaries takes place during the Ming-Qing dynasty (possibly Song), which is evident because of the harem system, the clothing style, and the medicine she uses. During this time, China had been taken back from the Mongols, and the government, in an effort to get rid of their traditions, reinstated many old systems like the civil service exam, improved education, and reestablished the bureaucracy. The education aspect is evident in the series because of the plans to better educate women on basic skills like reading.

The part worth highlighting, though, is that China (and basically everywhere the Mongols ruled) was safer under their rule. So when everything became scattered again, safety greatly decreased, making things like kidnappings more common. This is probably why Maomao wasn’t distraught about being kidnapped. Still, the rest of what happened before this time is traumatic enough.

The main reason I give for this is that she’s used to it—not in a Stockholm syndrome way, but in an “oh, this happens sometimes” way. Being raised in the brothels, she likely saw the worst parts of humanity in the customers and the courtesans. Being exposed to this regularly probably caused her to naturally believe that humans do bad things—but not in an overly pessimistic way, since she still had good people taking care of her. Along with this, she is just practical in everything she does. She weighs the pros and cons of her actions before she acts. She discloses information that is important to wrap up a case so she doesn’t have more drama to deal with (unlike a lot of characters, which is why I love her).

While she still has a curious personality when it comes to mysteries, at this point in season 2, she has gained the trust of literally everyone important, making her unlikely to get into trouble. (This is still China in the 11th-12th century, so she still has to be careful, but compared to before, she has a lot more freedom.)

While her personality may look plain at first, you quickly grow to love her, especially her passion for medicines and poisons. The shift in her demeanor when poisons come into play is so fun to watch. This shows that, at the end of the day, she is still a teenager. She is mature but childlike at the same time when it comes to things she’s interested in. Women in this time were supposed to be, like in almost every other time in history, subordinate to men. Maomao, being as smart as she is, knows and acknowledges this but does not let it stop her. She goes against the status quo by being a completely independent woman who doesn’t need a man.

The best part of this is that she does it without really thinking about it. Her goal is not to go against the status quo or anything like that but simply to pursue her interests in life.

Overall, I just really love Maomao and the series, and it better keep getting new seasons until it’s done, or else I’m going to tweak out. I also wrote this while procrastinating on my AP World homework to “review” for the AP exam (which is like four months away), but I hope you guys like it.

[transmutationisms]

in addition to being prone to an obvious naturalistic fallacy, the oft-repeated claim that various supplements / herbs / botanicals are being somehow suppressed by pharmaceutical interests seeking to protect their own profits ('they would rather sell you a pill') belies a clear misunderstanding of the relationship between 'industrial' pharmacology and plant matter. bioprospecting, the search for plants and molecular components of plants that can be developed into commercial products, has been one of the economic motivations and rationalisations for european colonialism and imperialism since the so-called 'age of exploration'. state-funded bioprospectors specifically sought 'exotic' plants that could be imported to europe and sold as food or materia medica—often both, as in the cases of coffee or chocolate—or, even better, cultivated in 'economic' botanical gardens attached to universities, medical schools, or royal palaces and scientific institutions.

this fundamental attitude toward the knowledge systems and medical practices of colonised people—the position, characterising eg much 'ethnobotany', that such knowledge is a resource for imperialist powers and pharmaceutical manufacturers to mine and profit from—is not some kind of bygone historical relic. for example, since the 1880s companies including pfizer, bristol-myers squibb, and unilever have sought to create pharmaceuticals from african medicinal plants, such as strophanthus, cryptolepis, and grains of paradise. in india, state-created databases of valuable 'traditional' medicines have appeared partly in response to a revival of bioprospecting since the 1980s, in an increasingly bureaucratised form characterised by profit-sharing agreements between scientists and local communities that has nonetheless been referred to as "biocapitalism". a 1990 paper published in the proceedings of the novartis foundation symposium (then the ciba foundation symposium) spelled out this form of epistemic colonialism quite bluntly:

Ethnobotany, ethnomedicine, folk medicine and traditional medicine can provide information that is useful as a 'pre-screen' to select plants for experimental pharmacological studies.

there is no inherent oppositional relationship between pharmaceutical industry and 'natural' or plant-based cures. there are of course plenty of examples of bioprospecting that failed to translate into consumer markets: ginseng, introduced to europe in the 17th century through the mercantile system and the east india company, found only limited success in european pharmacology. and there are cases in which knowledge with potential market value has actually been suppressed for other reasons: the peacock flower, used as an abortifacient in the west indies, was 'discovered' by colonial bioprospectors in the 18th century; the plant itself moved easily to europe, but knowledge of its use in reproductive medicine became the subject of a "culturally cultivated ignorance," resulting from a combination of funding priorities, national policies, colonial trade patterns, gender politics, and the functioning of scientific institutions. this form of knowledge suppression was never the result of a conflict wherein bioprospectors or pharmacists viewed the peacock flower as a threat to their own profits; on the contrary, they essentially sacrificed potential financial benefits as a result of the political and social factors that made abortifacient knowledge 'unknowable' in certain state and commercial contexts.

exploitation of plant matter in pharmacology is not a frictionless or infallible process. but the sort of conspiratorial thinking that attempts to position plant therapeutics and 'big pharma' as oppositional or competitive forces is an ahistorical and opportunistic example of appealing to nominally anti-capitalist rhetoric without any deeper understanding of the actual mechanisms of capitalism and colonialism at play. this is of course true whether or not the person making such claims has any personal financial stake in them, though it is of course also true that, often, they do hold such stakes.