#ungovernable force

[sowhatifiliveinasmalltowninjapan]

Conflict

The Ungovernable Force (1986)

[guerrilla-operator]

Conflict // C.R.A.S.S.

Up rose a movement titled C.R.A.S.S Who spoke of anarchy and freedom, putting power to the test A caring group of people who worked just outside the system Aiming for liberty and peace using passive resistance They took on a larger battle challenging all the rights and wrongs The state, sexism, war, religion Love and hope spread from their songs Punk is dead! Now refuse to be led! 'Fight war, not wars, oppose all power' They said They questioned institutions, reputations, the class systems Destroying power not people, but also rejecting revolution They never set out to profit from another! The music took a backseat so the message got louder 'Unity, respect, don't contaminate our earth' Is what was screamed at leaders in asylum, morals, values, what's it worth? Those who couldn't take it tried to stop them with violence They refused to play their game, and watched the political minds subsidence Attempts failed feebly to create divisions in the movement For it was real, unmarketable, not the bullshit we were used to Yes we still have their fucked system, regulations, laws and threats Whose fault is that? Not theirs! They're still doing their bit, are you? People don't climb on the pedestal; they are pushed there Questions developing leadership When you know what's being said is right, why do you need proof? For fuck sake- why can't you understand what they are saying? The shit we get, the shit we get

[heritageposts]

Ask an older generation of white South Africans when they first felt the bite of anti-apartheid sanctions, and some point to the moment in 1968 when their prime minister, BJ Vorster, banned a tour by the England cricket team because it included a mixed-race player, Basil D’Oliveira. After that, South Africa was excluded from international cricket until Nelson Mandela walked free from prison 22 years later. The D’Oliveira affair, as it became known, proved a watershed in drumming up popular support for the sporting boycott that eventually saw the country excluded from most international competition including rugby, the great passion of the white Afrikaners who were the base of the ruling Nationalist party and who bitterly resented being cast out. For others, the moment of reckoning came years later, in 1985 when foreign banks called in South Africa’s loans. It was a clear sign that the country’s economy was going to pay an ever higher price for apartheid. Neither of those events was decisive in bringing down South Africa’s regime. Far more credit lies with the black schoolchildren who took to the streets of Soweto in 1976 and kicked off years of unrest and civil disobedience that made the country increasingly ungovernable until changing global politics, and the collapse of communism, played its part. But the rise of the popular anti-apartheid boycott over nearly 30 years made its mark on South Africans who were increasingly confronted by a repudiation of their system. Ordinary Europeans pressured supermarkets to stop selling South African products. British students forced Barclays Bank to pull out of the apartheid state. The refusal of a Dublin shop worker to ring up a Cape grapefruit led to a strike and then a total ban on South African imports by the Irish government. By the mid-1980s, one in four Britons said they were boycotting South African goods – a testament to the reach of the anti-apartheid campaign. . . . The musicians union blocked South African artists from playing on the BBC, and the cultural boycott saw most performers refusing to play in the apartheid state, although some, including Elton John and Queen, infamously put on concerts at Sun City in the Bophuthatswana homeland. The US didn’t have the same sporting or cultural ties, and imported far fewer South African products, but the mobilisation against apartheid in universities, churches and through local coalitions in the 1980s was instrumental in forcing the hand of American politicians and big business in favour of financial sanctions and divestment. By the time President FW de Klerk was ready to release Mandela and negotiate an end to apartheid, a big selling point for part of the white population was an end to boycotts and isolation. Twenty-seven years after the end of white rule, some see the boycott campaign against South Africa as a guide to mobilising popular support against what is increasingly condemned as Israel’s own brand of apartheid.

. . . continues at the guardian (21 May, 2021)

[grassbreads]

[dogesphere]

They’ve also made it so you can’t click on the blog name of sponsored posts to go to their page. (At least on the iOS app.) You literally have to go search for the blog to block it. I’ve had to do this for the past two. Isn’t this counter productive?? What if I WAS interested and wanted more information?

But Tumblr just said nooo stop blocking brands guys ):

GOOD LUCK STOPPING ME THO 😈

[crimethinc]

Ten years ago today, a police officer in Ferguson, Missouri murdered an unarmed teenager named Michael Brown. In response, for a week and a half, an ungovernable revolt raged as angry residents and their supporters used a variety of tactics including arson, property destruction, looting, and gunfire to keep police at a distance and impose consequences for the murder.

Most people outside Black and brown communities had no idea how frequently police murder people in the United States until these events forced the topic into public discussion. This set a precedent for subsequent rebellions around the country, culminating with a countrywide upheaval in response to the murder of George Floyd.

A timeline of the Ferguson revolt:

https://crimethinc.com/FergusonTimeline

A full account from one of the anarchists who participated:

https://crimethinc.com/LootingBack

[gffa]

All you ever need to know about Bruce and Dick's relationship is that, when a social worker comes to visit and Bruce is dead serious about this and genuinely mad, baby Dick Grayson is NOT afraid of this man, and he can and WILL make it worse if you try to force him to behave. Dick Grayson is UNGOVERNABLE.

[eldrbenway]

"Desire is an ungovernable force, driving us to the sweetest of pleasures." 

- John Cleland, Fanny Hill (1748). 

Yua Mikami is breathtakingly beautiful and exudes sensuality in this stunning photo! 📸🌹✨ 

[cravetive]

PERICULUM | KTH (M)

𓏲 ๋࣭  ࣪ ˖🕊 Pairing: Kim Taehyung x Fem!reader

𓏲 ๋࣭  ࣪ ˖🕊 Synopsis: the day of your wedding has finally arrived, the day when you will leave your heartbreaks and disappointments behind and begin a future with the man that you love. you are supposed to be happy but instead, you find yourself gripped with a bad case of cold feet and soon you will have to come face to face with your past and the unwelcome guest that arrives with it.

𓏲 ๋࣭  ࣪ ˖🕊Genre: non-idol!au, smut, maybe a plot?

𓏲 ๋࣭  ࣪ ˖🕊 Warnings: swearing here and there, pining?, sexual tension, yandere, fingering, oral sex (F! receiving) , dirty talk, creampie (of course), teasing, unprotected sex, little bondage, hardcore, foreplay, dom/sub dynamics, kissing, Taehyung needs therapy like yesterday, cheating?

𓏲 ๋࣭  ࣪ ˖🕊 Authors note: I'm back but I'm not better, this might not be my best work and I apologize for my absence greatly. of course, I am a creature of habit so this might have some spelling errors, please allow me some grace whilst I get back in my groove.

𓏲 ๋࣭  ࣪ ˖🕊 Word count: 8k ( give or take )

The sun cascades through white curtains, casting a golden hue inside the room you now sit in - its rays glowing on every visible surface. It is complemented by the squeals and excited voices of the bridesmaids that roam around frantically, Their light sage dresses flowing against the Italian breeze that empties through the agape windows, the supple gust that caresses your cheeks bringing forth the scent of white roses that decorate the wedding reception outside. 

Today there will be a wedding, your wedding to be exact.

After numerous heartbreaks and misfortunes, you would be walking down the aisle in Castello Brown into the arms of the person who guaranteed you safety, making the inconceivable idea of marriage a reality.

You and Joseon had met in the strangest of times, in which the both of you were in your most raw state. Vulnerable and searching for warmth in every place plausible, and just like that, almost as if the universe had synched with time you found comfort in each other. Like cold water on a hot summer day, a soft pillow for the both of you to lay your heads on. 

The promise of a future blurs the lines of the inevitable truth, you are settling.  

But you love him….you do. 

Or at least, do you think you do? 

If you were, to tell the truth to anyone including yourself, you’d open your mouth and confess the uncertainty that currently grips you. It remains nuzzled inside your belly, making itself part of your organism until it reaches your bloodstream, latching onto your heart, spreading through each beat it dares take. Growing heavier and ungovernable the closer you get to saying your vows. 

It debilitates you in the most unpleasant form, bringing forth memories of a man who you once knew, who you once loved. It's hard for you not to feel like an imposter, as if you are taking the place of someone else, someone more deserving or perhaps it’s because you can't stop daydreaming of another version of this day, a recurring dream of your wedding where someone else stands there waiting for you instead of Joseon. 

The memory of his face inhabits your mind menacingly. His touch, his voice, and his scent leave a virulent residue inside of you. 

Yet, you avoid the whispers that roam your mind. Opting to ignore the truth that lingers there, forcing yourself to believe that you’ve made the right decision. Undermining the effect it has on you because everyone must feel like this on their wedding day, right?

It's just cold feet, or maybe it's because you haven’t had a good meal. Your appetite is affected by the anticipation of your big day - the way your corset presses against your ribs, a factor your mind is inclined to believe. 

Anything but the onerous honesty of what you are unfeignedly feeling. 

Joseon will be your husband, he will be the man that you love and cherish for the rest of your life because you said yes, because he is where you feel most secure. Unlike the trembling hands of the man who your heart lingered for. Where you found yourself always scared to fall, doubting he could ever catch you. Your fiance is who the universe has sent for you and it is in your best interest to believe that, it is what you need to convince yourself of until there is no scope of contemplation left inside of you. 

Joseon has to be your person. 

“Alright, ladies I need the bridesmaids to please accompany me downstairs for a few pictures” Sasha, your wedding planner announces whilst she steps into the room, her all-black formal attire standing out amongst the pastels and soft colors that ornament the day. 

The bridesmaids pour out of the room obediently, leaving behind echoes of laughter in the hall they disappear into. Sasha glances in your direction and provides you a warm smile, one that you reciprocate momentarily before your eyes shift back to the mirror in front of you. You can't allow her to look at you for a moment longer, scared that she might be able to notice the precariousness blooming within you. 

“Everything is going smoothly Y/n” she reassures you, perceiving the nerves that rattle through your bones. You pretend like that eases you, like somehow that is enough to stop the trembling in your hands. 

“And you look stunning” she adds and this time you turn to look at her again, another smile spreading across your cheeks, this one more genuine. 

“Thank you” your words come out as a whisper, ending in a squeak and then a trail of giggles which she shares with you. 

You clear your throat as it drains from all moisture caused by the question that makes its presence in your head and you almost feel guilty for even being curious but you ask anyway. 

“How’s Joseon?” Sasha smiles, oblivious to your current feelings, she thinks the question is rather romantic but in reality all you want to know is if he’s feeling as ill at ease as you are. 

If you aren’t the only one feeling out of place.  

“He’s ready,” she laughs “He can't stop saying how much he wants to see you already.”

Your stomach twists with the information and an intrusive idea perks in your mind, perhaps if you do see him before the ceremony then all these questions racing inside your mind will disappear.  Maybe they will evaporate into thin air the second you lay eyes on him - like they do in the movies. 

Perhaps his familiar face will silence the hesitation that has built intrusively inside of you. 

“Tell him I want to see him too” you state but it sounds more like a request, a desperate one. 

“Don't worry, you will get to soon” Sasha affirms but fear settles in your gut. The kind of terror that is baseless,  influenced by the anxiety that devours you swiftly and you reluctantly conclude that seeing Joseon is no match for the doubt that inhabits you. 

It wouldn’t change a thing. 

“Yeah” you sigh, nodding your head whilst attempting to dry off your clammy palms against the silk fabric of your robe. 

“Well I’ll let you finish” she cheers “You have abouuuttt” she mumbles, looking down at the watch she wears on her wrist “About 45 minutes to get ready, and then we will be on standby for your entrance.”

You inhale sharply, the sound of an absent clock thundering inside of your mind. Is it too late to change your mind? And if you do, would you hurt Joseon? But you already know the answer as you watch your wedding planner exit the room, only exhaling when she is completely gone.

“Are you nervous?” Brie, your make-up artist whispers, as if she is asking something no one should hear and you jump at the sound of her voice, too lost in your thoughts to realize she is still there. Her gentle laughter pervades the space and for some reason it irritates you, taking her innocent joy as mockery. 

Why was everyone so happy? So excited? When this was your big day, your moment. You’re the one supposed to be feeling elated, and ecstatic. But yet, no matter how hard you try, you are incapable of unearthing those feelings inside of you. You are left with no other option than to cling to the possibility that this must happen to everyone, that you aren’t the only one accompanied by this feeling on your wedding day. 

Your eyes find Brie’s, her stare reflecting sympathy and selfless happiness and you realize the anger that builds up inside of you is misplaced. 

Though you don't offer her the truth and perhaps it is because you honestly don't know what you are feeling, all you know is that you are blinking more than usual and your heart slams against your chest, hoping that if it manages to collide with your sternum hard enough it will rip open for it to escape. 

So, you shake your head and negate the profound emotions that you should urgently expose but that you yearn to hide.

“I'm ready” you breathe “more than I’ll ever be.”

“That’s good” she hums while she blends in the blush on your cheeks, her tone is doubtful and you can feel yourself begin to panic. Does she not believe you? Has she noticed your uneasiness, but of course how could she not - you’re usually a chatterbox, sparking the most random conversations, laughing at the most absurd things but now it's as if you can’t open your mouth unless it's to say how fine you are. 

“It’s okay to be nervous” Brie speaks again, turning to grab another one of her brushes. Your moistened eyes come up to look at her once again, dread dropping like a splash of ink inside you “This is a big step, not everyone is brave enough to do it.”

For an instant you are drawn to confide in her, to tell her what’s happening. If someone else helps you carry the burden then it can’t possibly weigh so harshly on your shoulders, right? 

“Brie” you begin to speak, a warning preparing to follow after. 

‘Don't tell anyone this but I don't think I'm ready’

“It will all be over when you walk down the aisle and then you'll laugh about it for years to come '' she says and your mouth clamps shut, swallowing your words. 

“Yeah” you agree, a small smile appearing on your face to appease her. 

And you pray that she’s right, that once you see the faces of all your loved ones, of Joseon then all these conflicting feelings will subside. 

There's a soft knock on the door, the subtle sound reverberating inside of the silence that has begun to form inside the room but you ignore it, reluctant to have to face yet another person whom you’ll need to hide from in hopes that they don’t notice how you fall apart. 

“I’ll go get it” Brie lays down her brush and walks towards the door. Your eyes drift back to the mirror in front of you and your next breath hitches in your throat. You don't recognize the reflection in front of you and within a period you begin to dissociate. 

She’s a bride. 

An imitation of all those women in the wedding magazines you’ve read for months now, the pink tint on her lips and blushed cheeks providing her an innocent appearance - the waves in her hair that are pinned to the back of her head waiting for her veil to be placed a detail you can't miss. You raise your hand to brush against your cheek, stroking the skin there softly as you succumb to the realization that something is missing. 

Because the only thing you can’t replicate from those brides in the magazines is the happiness behind their eyes. 

“Oh my god!” Brie’s high-pitched voice reaches your ears and you turn to look in her direction. You can tell she is holding something in her arms, a package maybe and you furrow your eyebrows at her sudden excitement. 

“What is it?” you ask, sliding forward in your chair. 

Brie turns and you get a glimpse of what has just been delivered, her face leaning down to inhale the aroma. The bouquet she holds is a cluster of soft pink and white, the colors seamlessly blending in a beautiful arrangement.

It prompts every single muscle in your to tense, your eyes widening in terror at the gift you’ve just been given. 

“Look! Someone sent these for you” She smiles widely, your hands clamp tightly onto the armrest of your chair whilst your heart plummets to your feet. 

“I wonder who these are from” Brie exclaims, her teasing tone causing your skin to grow pale as she reaches you. Your eyes remain on the flowers in her hands, too shell-shocked to react in the way she expects you to. The flowers are a symbol of something you have desperately tried to forget, a past that has no place in your memory today but that has been brought forth by the cruelty of the person who has sent them. 

Peonies.

There only exists one other person on this earth who knows how much you love them, who knows your fixation with its petals and colors. The sight of them is like a bucket of cold water being poured over you, it awakens every sense of insecurity inside of you and leaves you bare. 

“oh there's a card!” she chirps, pulling the small envelope embedded between the petals for you to see. 

You attempt to feign indifference but the way you snatch the card from her hand and stumble away from her sight exposes all your colors. Your hands tremble against the small white envelope, pulling and tearing until your fingers are raw, your chest heaving from the distress taking over you.  

You blink away the tears that glaze your pupils, raising the small card into the light where you find his handwriting and your corset tightens around your waist. Your lips quiver while you read the words there, a message that is short and simple - only taking him a few seconds to write and a lifetime for you to recover from. 

‘Best of wishes to you and the man that you don’t love’ 

The world dissolves around you and you anchor onto his words, your mind growing painfully quiet and the tantrum that your heart throws begins to subside. Your armor cracks as he unveils you in a manner only he can. Snatching away the lies you’ve been telling yourself to stay sane, no longer being able to hide behind the denial you’ve sown yourself to. 

The nostalgic evocation of him blinds you and a blood-curdling scream erupts within you, manifesting itself as a loud gasp that you choke on. 

“What does it say?” Brie asks, taking small steps in your direction, concern in her expression. Your eyes shift to her quickly, your hands subconsciously pressing the card to your chest in another poor attempt to conceal the truth. 

“Uh” you breathe, digging for an answer, for an excuse. 

“Oh, it’s just an old friend” you whimper. 

But Taehyung isn’t just a friend - not in the slightest or at least he wasn’t. No, Taehyung was not just a person, not someone you could easily forget or disregard. He was everything all at once. The definition of the right person at the wrong time, the reason why you’ve sought shelter in someone else’s arms. Too complicated to explain, too painful to recall. 

“Oh that’s sweet” Brie utters hesitantly, her eyes following along while you frantically pace around the room, nourished by the rush of adrenaline that pumps through your veins. 

“Is everything okay, Y/n?”

You snap your attention to her and you halt your movements, the card still pressed tightly against your chest. “Of course, I just need-” you inhale and your mind goes blank. What do you need? What would alleviate the torment you currently feel? 

“I just need a moment” You shut your eyes, trying to learn how to breathe again “Alone” you emphasize. 

“Oh of course” Brie responds, her worried eyes expressing words she doesn’t speak whilst nodding her head. 

“I’m just a bit overwhelmed that’s all” you gulp nervously. 

“No I get it” she reassures you and with one last worried glance, she makes her way towards the door. 

It is only when the door slams shut that you notice the heat that has blended itself in the air, sweat beginning to form on your freshly applied make-up. It leads you to rush to the open windows, your shaky hands reaching for the curtains which you pull onto desperately - praying for the scarce breeze of September to seep inside and offer you relief.  

You stare back down at the card that you cage inside of your hands and your eyes flutter shut as a loud sigh leaves your lips. You wish you could say you didn't see this coming, that somehow this was some kind of big revelation but Taehyung was an animal of habit, the habit of making his presence known when you most wanted to forget him. 

Your eyes move to the clock that sits on top of the nightstand and you shudder - you only have 20  minutes left until the ceremony begins and here you are losing your mind over someone who belonged to your past. You remove your robe, exposing your white lace lingerie, the intricately patterned fabric pressing against your skin, a gift you have prepared for your soon-to-be husband. 

You’re determined to push forward, to walk down the aisle that promises you happiness because it’s what you deserve. No longer would you allow Taehyung to play with your mind, not in the way you had previously - you convince yourself that he no longer knows you at all. 

The wedding dress that lays on top of the bed draws your attention and you stand still for a moment, inspecting the all-white gown that should be but isn’t on you. You sigh and reach for it, feeling the soft charmeuse fabric under your fingers. You try to convince yourself that once you put it on all will be well and these perturbing feelings along with that note will be left in the past, like a sick memory. 

Amongst the rest of the other things that you’ve shared with Taehyung. 

As you rush to put on the dress, you hear the soft hum of your phone ringing and you turn to reach for it, you know you are running late - it's probably Brie reminding you of the time. You look at the screen at the unsaved number and sigh as you answer the call. 

“I know” Your hand rubs over your temple whilst your eyes fall shut, an ache forming there. 

“I just need a bit of help putting on the dress.”

“I can help with that”

The voice is low and rasped, carrying a certain familiarity that you fear recognizing. It flows through your ear like a song, your brain recalling each time that you’ve heard it before, the many times your heart fluttered over it. 

“W-ho” you choke, your eyes opening quickly “Who is this?”

“You forgot my voice so soon, my love?”

You stand up quickly, dread forming in your gut as an inevitable realization comes to your head. 

“How did you get my number?”

“Ah you didn’t forget” he chuckles lowly, a certain taunt in his tone “I knew you wouldn’t”. 

“Taehyung” you whisper which is paired with a heavy sigh “Why are you calling me?”

“Did you get my note?” he ignores your line of questions, delivering you one of his own. 

You stare at the crumpled card thrown on the bed next to your dress and you turn away. 

“What note?” you retort. 

“You are great at many things Y/n but at lying? You were never good at lying” he states, his tone bringing chills down your spine. 

“What do you want?” you demand, a quiver accompanying the question. 

“Just wanted to hear your voice one last time before you became a married woman” he hums, as if his statement means nothing.  

“Taehyung” you warn.

“Oh come on Y/n” he chuckles once again “didn’t you miss my voice too?”

“No, I didn't” you snap. 

“Not even a little bit?” he asks, a smirk spread through his face which you can picture even from the other line. 

There is a knock on the door and you flinch at the abrupt sound. Your heart beats a mile per second and you fix your eyes on the clock once again. 

You have 10 minutes left.

“It was nice catching up Taehyung but I have a wedding to attend,” you say before ending the call,  throwing your phone across the room. You don't have time to sit and ponder what Taehyung wants, it's not about him today. You won't allow his selfishness to absorb you once again, in the end, that is all he wants. Your steps are rushed as you approach the door, hoping it’s Brie who has returned to help you with your dress.

You leave the door open before quickly turning, heading back to the bed where your wedding dress lays, the small Swarovski diamonds shining as the sunbeams on the fabric.  

“Brie, can you please help me I have 10 minutes to get ready and I'm so sorry about before I had a lot on my mind but I'm ready” you ramble, picking up the dress from the bed and beginning to remove the buttons on the back.

The door shuts and you hear footsteps approaching you.

“Can you please hurry Brie, I don't want Joseon to think I left him at the alter or something” you giggle nervously but as you turn to glance at Brie, in her place is a man, he wears a black suit with his hair brushed back and the grip on the fabric on your dress loosens, the dress falling to the ground. 

You scan the man’s face carefully, his small child-like smile luring your heart to thump faster. He’s taller than Joseon, his posture confident and relaxed, his intense and machiavellian stare the next thing you notice and of the small mole that sits on his right lower eyelid. 

“Taehyung,” you say. Your wide eyes blinking as if it would make his presence go away as if he was but a figment of your imagination. 

A small smirk appears on his face as his eyes travel your bare skin, a low hiss falling from his lips. 

“W-what are you doing here?” you ask, eyes narrowing on him. 

“Look at you” Taehyung breathes “a bride”. 

“Taehyung don't fuck with me, what are you doing here?”

“I wanted to see you” he explains plainly, taking a step forward which you respond by taking a step back. 

His eyes linger on your face, his stare gripping and longing and if it wasn't for the way you avoided it, you could’ve picked up on the subtle sadness in them, of an emotion that he hides behind his cunning bravado. 

“Well, you have” you demand “Now please go”  Your tone clings to fear - fear of what will occur if he remains in your presence any longer. Your resolution, the one that you had spent years building inside melts away like butter. You take in his presence and you don't dare say this out loud but for a second you pray that he stays for more than just a few minutes, that if by chance or perhaps luck he will say that he wants to stay, for more than just a few hours. 

“Y/n” he mutters, the delicate tone in which he says your name a weakness you had never been able to overcome. In his mouth, he holds words he has prepared for this exact day - reasons and explanations he should’ve given you in the past but had never had the guts to. 

“Don't marry him” he says instead.

Your eyes don't dare blink as you process what he has just uttered, your entire body stiff with the request. It feels like a slap on the face, an unforgivable offense but you can’t bring yourself to react except for the tears that swell in your eyes. 

“Why?” your bottom lip trembles and every muscle in your body pleads for you to turn away, to shut out his voice - to pretend like you didn't hear the purpose of his visit. 

“Why are you doing this to me?” 

“Did you think I would let you go through with this? Your surprise shocks me” he chuckles, moving towards you while you move away - until your back is pressed against the wall and he stands but a few inches away.

“Taehyung, please just go” you speak confidently, you try to find other words that would persuade him away from you but your mind goes blank, you know deep in your soul that you don't believe any of the things you push yourself to say and so you swing a cheap punch in hopes that it will land. 

“I love Joseon.”

Taehyung closes his eyes as Joseon’s name flows through your mouth, indignation building inside of him with the recognition that it's his name you should be whispering. He leans closer, causing you to sink deeper in the position you are in, fearing that if he dares touch you then your entire act will begin to deteriorate.

“Are you wearing the perfume I like?” he whispers “You are too cruel, Y/n” he opens his eyes and he scans every feature on your face, including your panicked eyes. 

You don't open your mouth to speak a word, entranced by his dark auburn pupils, your mouth falls agape and your chest rises and falls at the same tune his does. It has always been so easy for you to fall back into Taehyung, regardless of how many times he came and went and though you grip onto the scraps of dignity you have left, you know today is no exception. 

“Taehyung” you mumble, his name heavy on your tongue. 

He leans in closer and his fingers lightly trail the exposed skin of your thigh, the tingling sensation causing you to flinch at the absent touch and contrary to what you want to believe, everything inside of you wants to lean into it. 

“Look at you” he sighs “You look like a princess” he moves his lingering fingers closer to the lace of your white lingerie, his fingers tracing the intricate patterns there. 

“Is this for him?” Taehyung hums, harshness pouring from his throat. 

“Does he know?” he asks, his stare calling for yours “that when you fuck him you think of me?” he bites, coaxing a whimper to fall from your mouth. 

“That when you stare into his face ever so lovingly that you imagine it's me and not him.”

“don’t” You shake your head, your hands reach forward to push him back but he doesn’t budge - a menacing expression on his face. 

“Huh” he scoffs, a smile spreading across his cheeks “I guess he doesn’t.”

You remove your stare from him, your lips pressing together and you hate him, hate him for the way he is making you feel right now. You hate the way he has stepped back into your life as if nothing has changed like you have belonged to him this entire time - like he’s not an intruder. 

“That's not true” you snap back “In fact, I don't think about you at all” your eyes filled with disdain traveling back to his. 

Taehyung nods his head mockingly, feigning understanding but he doesn’t move from his position, his hand still brushing the skin of your upper thigh. He leans further in, burying his face into the nape of your neck, his nose brushing against the skin there - causing your breath to wedge itself ardently in your throat. 

“When you lie your voice raises in pitch and your nose scrunches slightly and if it was anyone else they would probably miss it but I-” he pauses, his breath cascading over your skin, the sensation leaving shivers down your spine. 

He raises his stare to your face once again, a small smile forming on his lips as he takes in your flushed cheeks. 

“Don't you worry love the only person you have to lie to moving forward is my twin brother” Taehyung remarks, his slander pointer finger softly sliding down to your belly button. 

“And yourself of course” he adds bitterly.  

You had met Junseo first, he was reserved and quiet, often hiding away in his books. It was the reason why you realized only 3 months later that you both shared the same history class and that he sat next to you. In the beginning, it had been a mesh of small cordial smiles and polite hello’s and then eventually, you had both found yourself in thorough conversations where you dissected his knowledgable mind, meeting after class for coffee and ultimately sharing your first kiss in the university library. 

It had been perfect, movie-like almost until one-day Junseo failed to attend class, and as a joke, his brother took his place. You hadn’t noticed it was Taehyung instead of your well-mannered boyfriend until your lips had met. The yearning on his lips as they collided with yours was unfamiliar yet exhilarating, it was as if 2 lovers had embraced each other after years of distance. 

You couldn't accept it, not even when they both sat across from you whilst Junseo finally introduced him to you,  all while Taehyung watched you intently, taking in the strain your nervous system went through as you tried to assimilate the information. 

Wondering if you would tell his twin brother of the kiss you both had shared or of the other transgressions you partook in on your bedroom floor. 

If you did, who could blame you? They were practically the same person but you didn’t then and you haven’t now. 

“You will marry him and you’ll spend the rest of your life looking for me in him, in others in the hopes that they can replicate what only I can give you” his mouth parts, his tongue slipping out to lick along the skin of your neck causing your legs to clamp together and an unwarranted sigh to escape you. 

“You’ll see my face reflected on every surface that you look onto seething for my presence but you’ll never find me” Taehyung glides his hand against your abdomen, softly and sleekly, becoming dangerously close to the part of you that aches for his attention. 

“I can almost see it, Y/n an old and empty woman consoling herself with the idea that she did the right thing” he annunciates, his fingers slipping past your silk white thong and finding its place between your thighs, his fingers finding your clit as he trails kisses on your shoulder. 

“Taehyung” 

His name is meant to sound as a warning, as a sign for him to stop but it bellows out as a moan, liquid gold falling into his ears. 

“What my love?” he hums, moving his face to meet yours - his mouth coming to capture yours which had remained agape. 

His hand doesn’t stop, his fingers pressing onto your sensitive nub in circular motions whilst his tongue floods your mouth. His fingers move slowly against your warm drenched pearl, carving out each movement he knows you love, the ones he taught you made you climax in the blink of an eye and you become puddy under his touch, moaning against his mouth as he drives you closer to that euphoric senseless feeling you have craved for so long.

Taehyung pulls away from your lips, his tongue licking along your reddened plump lips, a hiss pouring out of his as he catches your blissful expression, the feeling of your juices covering his fingers enticing an animalistic desire inside of him. 

“It feels good, doesn't it?” he groans, a question you can’t answer regardless if the answer sits on the tip of your tongue, you are breathless and completely wrecked. 

The speed at which his fingers move increases, an evil smirk spreading across his face as his eyes darken with utter admiration. Taehyung has lusted for this moment for so long that now that he stands here, it feels surreal. In his mind he has replayed this scenario time after time, touching himself to the thought of watching you cum. 

“Answer me” he pleads, his brows knitting in concentration - replicating the pleasure on your face. You nod quickly, your eyes fluttering shut whilst your body trembles. You try to remember what breathing feels like, try to find it within yourself to bring air into your lungs but your walls clench around his fingers and your mouth falls open - a trail of moans and whimpers cascading out of it. 

“Do you want me to fuck you?” Taehyung hums, his tone innocent as if his words don't implicate anything like nothing matters and you wish that you could come back to your senses, it's wrong that he’s touching you like this and it's wrong that you are letting him. You wish that you could push him away and berate him but you want him everywhere, all at once and in this moment nothing matters, not even your morality. 

Your body complies to his request with a loud whimper and within a second, his hand peels away from your throbbing cunt, his arms reaching behind your legs until they are wrapped around his waist. He moves towards the bed where he places your body on top of your wedding dress, the one you are supposed to be wearing at this moment whilst your expecting fiance waits for you at the altar. 

You look up at him with lustful eyes, noting the veins that run through his hands as he removes his suit jacket, the dark blue fabric flying across the room. 

“Fuck you look gorgeous” Taehyung mutters, biting onto his lower lip. His hand reaches for your cheek, caressing the skin softly - his thumb gliding against your lips until you part them, sucking it inside. 

Your tongue twists around the digit causing him to moan out loudly. 

“Im going to fuck you so good love” he promises.

He reaches to undo his belt buckle whilst bringing your body further up the bed until your head is almost at the headboard. He slides his belt off with a swift pull, his eyes beaming with ardor as he watches your willing body lay underneath his. 

“Give me your hands” Taehyung instructs, a playful grin emerging on his face. 

“I-i” you hesitate. 

To do as told would be to be left under his devices, a victim to his rigorous plans and you know better, you ready yourself to decline because you shouldn’t be here in the first place and you know someone will be knocking on your door any minute now, concerned for your whereabouts but your body screams for his attention and so you oblige like Taehyung knows you will. 

In a swift movement, your hands are tied to the headboard above you, the black leather of his Hermes belt pressed tightly against your wrist, you let out a small whimper and when you turn to face him once again, he’s standing at the end of the bed. 

Taehyung eyes trace every inch of your skin as if it is the first time he has seen you in this light yet, it's not. He can give master classes on your naked body, and go on 3 hour rants of how to make you cum. He knows you, he knows it all. 

You quiver slightly, begging for his attention and if it wasn’t for the heat that rises through your entire body, you’d probably feel pathetic. 

“What's wrong love?” Taehyung coos. 

“Taehyung” you whimper. 

“Yes?” 

He’s teasing you, luring you into saying what he’s been daydreaming of hearing for weeks now, ever since the invitation arrived in the mail. He couldn’t bring himself to accept it, it was always supposed to be him in Joseon’s place, he needed to be the one responsible for your happiness, not his charactless brother. 

Him. 

He wanted to hear you say that you chose him. 

“Please” it’s a sigh, a breath you whisk out of your lungs as your body trembles in anticipation. 

Taehyung unbuttons his shirt slowly, each button getting his utmost attention - his eyes never leaving your laying figure. He knows you are running out of time but Taehyung does not care to rush, in fact he will milk this moment for all it’s worth because if this is the last time that he gets to see you like this, whimpering his name then he will make sure neither of you forget it. 

Besides, the way you lay tied to the bed, expecting his touch lures a heightened level of lust to spread inside of him, causing his heart to beat faster, for his hardened cock to press against his freshly ironed cashmere pants. He can't bring himself to think straight, not when you wait for him in your white-laced lingerie and the only thought that crosses his mind is of how good your warm walls will feel around his cock. 

Taehyung drops the shirt from his shoulders, slowly crawling on top of you. His head lowers until his lips brush against your abdomen, leading your body to quiver at the feeling of his warm breaths cascading over your skin. 

His slender hands grip your waist, carefully hooking his fingers around the waistband of your thong and with a swift movement they are gone, your lower body now exposed for his admiration. 

The loud sound of your heart slamming against your chest is all that you can hear, the mere anticipation of what he will do leaving you breathless. You watch intently as he slowly parts your legs, his soft hands moving under your thighs - removing the weight from your body until your needy cunt is but inches away from his face. 

Taehyung collects saliva on his tongue and he spits, covering your folds in his tepid saliva but he doesn't allow enough time for you to react as his tongue begins to slide against your cunt, licking as if your slit is a sweet delicacy. 

You try to keep yourself from moaning out but the hiss that erupts from your mouth betrays you, accompanied by a trail of struggled breaths and soft moans. 

He loses himself at the taste of you in his mouth, your juices spreading across his face and he can't deny the thrill the tremble of your legs causes him. He can't stop, savoring your wetness with each lick of his tongue. 

The urge to run your fingers through his hair leaves you frustrated, your arms pulling on the restraints that halt your desired movements. You can feel it, the pressure in your lower abdomen. It drives your eyes to flutter shut and for your moans to become obstreperous. 

His tongue focuses on your drooling hole whilst his nose rubs against your clit, the combination taking you to a complete state of euphoria. Your hands grip the leather of his belt harshly and your body begins to tremor, you are close - dangerously so. 

Your hips buck against his face causing his grip on your ass to tighten as he tries to keep you in place but it's no use, your hips rotate against his tongue hungrily - your body seeking your sweet honeyed climax. 

“Oh god,” you huff, struggling to catch your next breath. 

“Yes.”

“yes right there, oh god.”

“Taehyung!” the scream that crawls out of your mouth sounds pained but it's far from it, it's a call for more, the need for his soft lips and warm mouth becoming ungovernable. 

The blend of his saliva and your arousal flows past your thighs as you allow yourself to call out his name once more which only leads Taehyung to bury his face deeper into your willing cunt, his tongue moving in circles against your throbbing nub. 

Your body stiffens with the next movement of his tongue, clamping your thighs against his head. A string of curses leave your lips as your climax overloads all your senses but Taehyung continues devouring your cunt, collecting your entire orgasm into his mouth. 

“You taste amazing” he hums breathlessly, his tongue licking the residue of you from his lips. 

You watch him through hooded eyes as he leaves open-mouth kisses on your inner thighs and then on your hips, his now disheveled strands of black hair lingering over his face. 

You whimper out whilst his hands soothingly brush against the skin of your ass, bringing your lower body back onto the white duvet that covers the bed under you. His eyes meet yours, his utterly lust-darkened pupils contrasting with your worn-out gaze. 

“Do you want more, love?” Taehyung asks “Think you can handle it?”

You nod despite knowing your body has not recovered from the high that has just rocked it, your breaths labored but your body presses for more. If your skin could speak it would divulge the way it has missed him, of the many nights it has spent seeking him. 

A faint yes comes out of your lips and Taehyung kneels before you, bringing your legs around his waist. His hands slide against the skin of your inner thighs, easing the strain his tongue has left you. 

He lowers his boxers, revealing his hardened tortured cock, which he alleviates with a few pumps from his hand. A soft groan falls from his lips as he looks down at you. From where he hovers in front of you, he takes in the beams of sweat forming on your skin, the way your chest rises and falls with every breath you take and the flush on your skin, the tincture a recalled memory of late nights in your dorm. 

He lowers the tip, teasingly gliding it against your warm clit, and the throbbing there causes his whole body to quiver with the ache that has remained buried inside of him. Your body jolts in response and your breath hilts in your throat. 

“You want me, love?” he chuckles lowly. 

“Yes,” you exhale sharply. 

A sly smirk forms on Taehyung’s lips and with a swift thrust he dips inside of you, vasting in the blissful sensation of your tight walls stretching out just for him. His hips move steadily, careful not to hurt you and before he can begin to move his entire length inside of you, you’re already a mess of whimpers and moans, the pulsations of his cock vibrating against your walls. 

He’s bigger than you remember and when he finishes burying himself inside you can feel his cock brush against your lower abdomen, the pressure that forms there causing you to let out a loud moan. He waits patiently for you to adjust because all Taehyung has is time and the unreasonable need to turn you out. 

“Look at you taking it all” Taehyung whispers, his eyes fixed on your bodies interlinked.

Your muscles ease and he begins his masterful strokes. Bringing his hips back and forth skillfully. His hand slid to your breast, guiding his thumb to draw out the movements of his hips on your nipples. 

With each thrust your body quivers, your legs pressing around his waist. His other hand brings your hips up higher until your ass is on his lap, driving his cock to hit angles you didn't know existed. 

“You may not miss me love, but your pussy says otherwise” Taehyung hums through groans “It takes me so well, like it was made for me.”

Your entire body shudders at his words, an overwhelming feeling of flusteredness coming over you. From his mouth, he spills a truth that you can’t deny, regardless of how much you’ve fought off the urge. He is the only one that you can allow yourself to lose with, the only man that can see all of you in this way. 

Utterly vulnerable. 

Your eyes study the pleasure in Taehyung’s expression as he plunges inside of you, it is pure satisfaction - his eyes closed and his eyebrows knitted in concentration as if he wants to engrave this in his memory. The sight alone causes your mound to quiver, for your core to drip around him. 

“Fuck Y/n”

His hands keep you in place as he picks up the pace, pounding his cock into you quickly. The sound of your previous orgasm gliding on his thick member leaving a chorus of pleasure inside the bedroom, the sound bounces from the wall and erupts into every crevice in the room whilst you both moan in unison. 

His movements are erratic and you can tell he’s close. Taehyung can feel himself losing restraint and all he wants is to fill you up with his cum, to witness your pretty cunt oozing with his nectar. 

“Tae hah” you shriek, the faint burning sensation beginning to form on your lower belly once again, you can tell this climax will be more intense than the last, your legs beginning to tremble from where they remain wrapped around him. 

“Just a little more, love” Taehyung exhales. 

You let out a trail of curse words, coaxing him to bring his eyes to yours, the yearning in both your gazes amped by the snap of his hips. 

The sounds of your intertwined moans are interrupted by a knock on the door and your body stiffens, your eyes widen in fear and you know you’ve run out of time - your guest waiting for your arrival. 

“Y/n?” Brie’s voice is muffled by the door separating her and your naked bodies. 

“Taehyung” You look back at him, panic in your tone but Taehyung does not appear to be startled by Brie’s abrupt return. It’s as if she’s not even there. 

“Shhhh” he instructs, moving from his kneeling position and coming between your legs, his body lying on top of yours now. 

“Don't worry” he whispers into your ear, his hand rising to brush away the strands of your hair that cling to your damp skin. 

“Just focus on me” Taehyung moves himself inside once more. You look up to him, concern written all over your expression but the feeling of your incoming climax is all too overpowering.  His tempo is cautious now, subsiding the alarm in your nerves, and you lose focus of the issue at hand. 

It’s like it doesn’t matter but it should. 

“I know you are close” he nods, leaving small kisses along your jawline “Let me make you cum one last time” Taehyung pleads. 

This is wrong and you know it, a line has been crossed but your legs wrap themselves around him once again, the clear indication that you have no intentions of ending what has already been started. Taehyung’s lips find your neck as he continues - sliding his hands below your ass and bringing you closer, his kisses he leaves on your skin hot and passionate.

“I don't think she left” You can hear Brie’s worried voice once more but you try to drown her out, withholding a moan in your mouth in hopes that she doesn’t notice that you are still there. 

“Answer her” he pants “before she calls someone to open the door.”

The thought hadn’t even crossed your mind but of course that would be her next course of action, given the state she had left you in when you asked for some alone time. You looked up at Taehyung, a curl forming against his lips as he stares down at you. 

He’s enjoying this in ways you can't even understand. 

You don’t think yourself capable of uttering a single word. The only thing coming from your mouth are bare moans and whimpers but you part your lips to speak, hoping Brie won’t catch the tremble in your voice. 

“Brie” your voice quivers. 

“Oh god Y/n! Are you okay?” Brie approaches the door, setting her ear against it in hopes that she can hear you better. 

Taehyung takes this opportunity to move faster inside of you, the bed beginning to squeak against the force he implements with his hips. You look up at him quickly, a loud moan threatening to pour from you. 

“Go on” Taehyung groans, his voice playful and excited. 

“I-i am fine” you whimper, your wrists twisting against the restraint. 

“Everyone is waiting for you” Brie pauses, looking up at the ceiling in desperation “Everyone is worried.”

“I” you begin but your climax has built too great for you to control, your entire body beginning to spasm as Taehyung withdraws his cock and slams back inside. Your eyes fall shut, unable to provide an answer to the concerned woman on the other side of the door. 

“Y/n?” 

“Fuck” you sigh loudly. 

“Is everything okay? Do you need help with your dress?” 

“Do you?” Taehyung laughs, his hand gripping your thigh as he too feels his climax nearing. 

“Taehyung please” you beg, rolling your hips against his.  

“What's wrong love?” he questions with a huff. 

You know he needs to stop for you to concentrate but there isn’t any part of you in this moment that wants him to, not in the slightest. You open your mouth once again, trying to give Brie a coherent response but as it falls apart a loud moan escapes in its place, one that Taehyung capturs in his mouth as he places his lips over yours. 

Your body begins to tense as your orgasm ripples inside of you, each loud moan being whisked away by Taehyung’s tongue and soon his muffled groans can be heard as his cock shoots strings of cum inside of you, the feeling of his warm milk causing goosebumps along your skin. 

You both remain still, riding out the high that has blinded both your senses. Your chest chest’s rising and falling in unison, labored breaths fanning within each other faces. You can’t bring yourself to open your eyes. Afraid that if you do you will have to come back to reality or perhaps because you’d melt into Taehyung’s stare once more. 

You feel the weight of his body ease and then with a swift pull, he unravels the belt that once had held your hands together, your wrists left sore from the harsh leather. 

“Y/n” he calls for you, the sound of his soft tone bringing warmth to your body. 

Your eyes open gently, your vision blurred until Taehyung’s auburn pupils come into focus and you cling to them, on the way their color fluctuate and blends into each other. Your weary gaze then trails to the almost undetectable mole that remains on his lower lash line, the one that you should’ve noticed the day you crossed paths. The small insignificant spot is the only thing that differentiates the two brothers. 

Would it have mattered?

If you had known back then that it was Taehyung instead of Joseon, would you have pulled away from his kiss with distaste? The question that has tormented you for years rises above the surface, bringing forth a bitter feeling inside your chest. 

Would it have changed anything?

“Run away with me” The words flow out of him effortlessly, with so much simplicity that you can’t even bring yourself to react to the proposition. Earnisty clads itself to his expression, his eyes holding within them pleads that he has been preparing to make for years. 

“What?” you whisper. 

“Come with me” he implores, his voice breaking as he extends his offer once again.

[marypsue]

There’ve been a few responses to/reblogs with tags on my post about DIY clothing embellishments that basically boil down to ‘I’d love to do this but I’m scared it’ll turn out bad/I’m not a good enough artist’. And I get it, I really do! I also want my art things to turn out nicely. But also...making it badly is sort of the point of punk DIY. 

Listen. We live in a world that would dearly love to charge you a subscription fee for breathing. The bastards are doing everything they possibly can to figure out how to turn art - stories, visual art, music, textile/fibre art, sculpture, crafts and creations of every kind - into a neat, discrete, packageable commodity, a product they can chop up into little pieces and stick behind a paywall so they can charge you for every drop of it you want to have in your life. 

The whole sneering idea that ‘everybody wants to be some kind of creator now’ and anything less than absolute mastery right out the gate is somehow shameful and embarrassing is a tool those bastards are using. It’s a way to reinforce the idea that only a set group of people can create and control art, and everybody else has to buy it. 

But art isn’t a product. Art is a fundamental human impulse. Nobody is entitled to a specific piece of art (which is where this message gets skewed into pitting people who love art against the artists who make it, while the bastards screw us all and run away with the money). But making art belongs to everybody. We make up songs and dances and stories, and paint things, and make clothes, and embellish them, and carve flowers into our furniture and our lintels and our doorframes, and make windows out of tiny pieces of coloured glass, and decorate our homes and our bodies and our lives with things we make and make up, simply for the love of beauty and of the act of creation. Grave goods from tens of thousands of years ago show that ancient hominids gave their dead wreaths of ceramic flowers, tattooed their bodies, beaded their shoes. Making things for the sake of beauty and enjoyment is one of the most ancient and human things we can do. 

The idea that we can’t, that we have to buy shit instead, because art is a product and you have to have the bestest prettiest most perfect product, is the enemy of joy. It’s the death of culture. And it means that, instead of whatever it is that you cherish and enjoy and value, you get whatever inoffensive (and to whom is it inoffensive?) bland meaningless samey-samey crap that the bastards want you to be allowed to have. What are you missing and what are you missing out on, if you don’t make or modify or decorate anything for yourself, if you don’t think you can because the product at the end won’t be polished or perfect or marketable enough? What do you lose? What do we lose? 

It is a desperately vital and necessary thing for you to make shit. For you to know that you can make shit, that you don’t have to just lie back and take whatever pablum the bastards want to force-feed you (and charge you through the nose for). That the bastards need you more than you need them. 

Become ungovernable. Be your own weirdly-endearing punk little freak. Paint on a t-shirt. Sing off-key in the shower or at karaoke night or at open mic night. Make up a story where you get to meet your favourite fictional character and you guys hug or fuck or punch each other in the face. Make art. Do it badly. Do it frequently. Do it enthusiastically. Do it for love and joy and creativity and fun and the spiteful joy of thumbing your nose at some smug motherfucker with a Swiss bank account who wants to track your heartbeat and location for the rest of your life in order to automatically pump AI-generated beats matched to your mood into your earbuds for a small monthly subscription fee of $24.99/month. It is literally the only way we are ever going to have even a chance to save art and our own lives from the bastards. 

So. Paint that t-shirt. 

(Also support artists where you can, and buy your music from Bandcamp.)

[bitchcakegreen]

Overwhelming passion in Bridgerton.

“Isn't physical attraction one of the ungovernable forces? You know, like gravity - that's what we like about it. Downhill, release the brakes, loosen your grip and then - whoosh!”

What is overwhelming passion? It’s when the MC (main characters) can not function because of their all-consuming need for their person.

We see this on s1 and s2 too for sure, but it’s on full display on s3. Colin’s obsessive searching for Pen in crowded ballrooms and across meadows afterward balloon attacks shoot him to the top of the overwhelming desire list. The tender kisses yes, but the feral touches and kisses he claims from her are the epitome of overwhelming desire.

The scene in the alley, albeit a bit too short in my opinion, is a prime example. Despite his anger at Pen’s betrayal a simple declaration of love from her makes him a beast. I love a good backward walk against a wall scene in romance and we get two in s3. One Colin’s dream…also a moment of overwhelming desire, and the other is the alley.

One can even say their first time scene is the culmination of their overwhelming desire for each other. It’s tender and sweet but also raw and passionate. The perfect blending to achieve just the right feel. I’ve seen many people comment that they feel like a voyeur in the moment, like they shouldn’t be watching as they are intruding. That’s the best kind of love scene. The one that feels real.

[still-searching-for-something]

I think a lot of people don't realize the Pax Americana, the massive decline in the frequency and severity of interstate wars since the end of the Second World War, is not a coincidence or happenstance. It is not an act of G-d, an unalterable status quo, or an accident. It is the product of decades of careful, hard work by diplomats, world leaders, civil servants, and political figures. And the primary guarantor of this peace, the product of their hard work is:

The North Atlantic Treaty Organization (NATO)

And NATO is precisely what Vladimir Putin is waging a targeted hybrid war to destroy.

The binding principle of NATO, of course, is that an attack against one is an attack against all. An assault against Poland will get America, Britain, Canada, Germany, and all of the other 32 member states to respond. This creates a tangible disincentive to attack, obviously. To be in NATO is to be assured that when shit hits the fan, you have the most powerful military in the history of mankind on your side, that you are protected from any expansionist neighbors. All across the world are nations that would likely be subject to hostile takeovers if their larger neighbors felt free to invade—Taiwan, Poland, the Baltics, Israel, Finland, etc. Some of these nations are not in NATO, but they are all American allies, and the American military is the bedrock of global peace today. You ever wonder why the US spends so much on a massive military in peacetime? Because they're paying for the defense of themselves, and Western Europe, ANDcontributing to the self defense capabilities of their allies—many of whom do have competent militaries of their own, but mutually benefit from the American security umbrella.

Today, of course, we're dealing with the problem of an expansionist Russia guided by an irredentist ideology that views Russia as holding a unique, privileged position between the decadent, declining West (Europe) and the foolish, ungovernable Asia. Eurasianism holds that Russia is the center of both worlds, and is both destined and obligated to take the reins of Europe and Asia and guide it to Russian-approved greatness. The Russian government systematically denies the legitimacy of Eastern Europe's national aspirations and cultures, arguing that it is no different from Russian culture and therefore deserves Russian governance. And if they can't take over these nations by unequal treaties and puppet regimes and troll farms, they'll do it directly with force.

But, of course, there's a problem. NATO. NATO is the obstacle in Putin's plans. A war with NATO would be, well, World War III. Russia can't afford to go to war with NATO, and they know that.

But what if... they could make NATO politically irrelevant?

And this is what brings us to our good friends Donald Trump and the Republican Party. The links between the Republican Party and the Russian state apparatus are a bit lengthy for the scope of this post, but the point is, Donald Trump has displayed a consistent admiration for Vladimir Putin, and a derision for NATO unheard of for any American president since 1949. Trump has described NATO as "obsolete" and even stated he would allow Russia to "do whatever they wanted" to nations that don't pay enough into NATO.

This is bad. Real bad.

Trump is doing what is in Putin's interest and trying to turn back the clock to the pre-NATO days—where nations were invaded by stronger neighbors, and there was no massive military alliance to block it. Putin is working to undo the Long Peace and create the circumstances that would allow him to bring back the dead Soviet empire by force. Yes, NATO would intervene if Russian troops set foot in Poland, but that will mean a lot less if the main backbone of NATO, the United States, has announced to the world that it will abandon its allies.

This is what makes European leaders so invested in the 2024 presidential election, and why the invasion of Ukraine shocked them so much—Putin was demonstrating he seriously wants to wage war for territorial expansion, and is willing to kill to do so. If Trump wins in 2024, not only will he enact Project 2025 and cause all kinds of damage to the United States' democracy, he will also create a world where autocrats are free to invade their neighbors if they want. China can invade Taiwan. Russia can invade the Baltics. North Korea can invade South Korea. Venezuela can invade Guyana. Azerbaijan can invade Armenia. He won't bring about World War III, he'll bring about a bunch of smaller wars, all over the world.

If you want peace and democracy, vote for Harris. If you want war and authoritarianism, vote for Trump.

It's as simple as that.

[glassfirefly]

In different ways, both Syd Barrett and Rick Wright were let down by Pink Floyd. Neither really wanted to leave the group, yet both were forced to, leaving a nasty taste in the mouth, no matter how well Roger Waters and David Gilmour managed without them.

Oh, Syd was mad, though, wasn’t he…? Actually, he had never been required to take medication specifically for his mental health. There was some speculation that he might have suffered from Asperger’s syndrome, a developmental disorder on the autism spectrum. Classic symptoms include difficulty with social interactions and incorrectly interpreting social cues. Asperger’s sufferers are often highly intelligent, just unconcerned with anything that doesn’t directly affect them.

As for Wright, he was a victim of Waters’s ungovernable egotism, banished to the shadows after The Wall. Go back to those earliest Floyd recordings, though, and you’re reminded that neither Waters nor Gilmour had much to do with the musical mien of a group that, at its best, relished its outsider status, as evidenced by its two most fragile personalities: Barrett and Wright.

[…]

In so many ways, Wright was the yin to Barrett’s yang; as pretty as Syd, but full of light where Syd was found by darkness, and almost as prolific on his fairy-tale keyboards and buttercup vocals as Syd was on his scribbly guitar and permanently astonished songs. And as easy to scare away when things finally got too much.

50 years of Floyd: Remembering Syd Barrett & Rick Wright – Loudersound.com, 12 August 2015

[ferociouslycreativemystery]

The fucking veterans' event. I'll never get over this. He needed to see Havers again but he didn't have the right qualifications. Experience had taught him the layout of the mansion however, so he snuck around the back, because he knew that reality expands beyond the established rules of engagement. He'd been shown that those rules would still be enforced though, so he stole a mark of the approved experiences—ones which he'd never had.

He enters the room, and the same way he was able to sneak into the house he sees there's a path through the crowd to reach Havers. But he is inattentive of his environment and draws attention to himself, causing him to be challenged to prove his belonging yet again—only this time, he has moved beyond the pale and is thus forced to follow through with evidence to back up his pretence. Of course, he has no experiences to pull from in that regard.

"The Captain" is nothing but a facade walling off a soft man from a hostile environment. He has no home to provide him shelter behind what appears to be the front door. Tearing it open is the equivalent of pulling a turtle from its shell; without it, he cannot weather the world.

So when they all push through uninvited, he perishes. His soft heart breaks from the strain of exposure.

Kicking in the front door reveals this unexpected sliver of actual reality, ungoverned by the rule book. The tables turn as now it is the others who are left fumbling for what to do, their legs cut out from under them when suddenly deprived of their precious rules.

Except for the officer who's seen both sides, who did build a lawful home, yet who also knows the Captain. He rushes forward to bridge the long established, newly exposed gap between reality and fiction. They are pulled together by the joint store they put in the truth, in spite of propriety. And possessing the means to do so, Havers will protect what he cares about, be that a people or a person.

He declares the impostor to be a peer in everything but name by demanding medical attention for him, and kneeling halfway to his level, he speaks with him as close to equals as the situation will allow them to be. He affirms the final truth which risks seeping out for everyone to see while still guarding it, wrapping a gentle bandage over the open wound to spare the Captain from bleeding out completely: I know.

And then, as a final comfort, in place of the impossibility of open affection, he redirects the Captain's hands to accept a part of his own shell that he willingly offers up to help rebuild the one which kept the Captain safe all these years, up until it was cruelly torn away in what was to become his final moments.

How starved is the man who can hide behind a swagger stick?

At long last, heteronormativity finally did kill the Captain. Nevertheless, Anthony affirmed that in the face of it, James did still exist, and despite the violations he faced, he had a right to do so on his own terms. He might never have become a hero, but he was always a brave man. His circumstances gave him no choice.

[xalicitie]

Unwarranted Thoughts — Kaz Brekker (smut) PART 2

You’re a new member of Kaz’s gang of crows. You and your boss share a cryptic relationship which neither of you seem to understand how to approach, but within one night in which you attend to a dire wound Kaz receives in battle, the two of you discover your true feelings for each other.

I didn’t think this was actually gonna be seen so I never finished it .. I just checked to see how it was doing and I screamed 😭, so I like rushed the ending part — and DISCLAIMER: I’ve heard some controversy about how smut about Kaz should be written since his trauma unfortunately hinders him from physical touch. I haven’t been necessarily finished the SOC storyline, when I started this I hadn’t even begun the books so let’s just say my writing is very likely inaccurate but I tried my best to be realistic. I read thru this again and I realize I made a lot of mistakes having to with this but I didn’t mean any harm 👌

Like a rabid animal that had been held back, Kaz lunged forward, finally connecting your lips with unhindered force, his fingers molding into your neck, supporting you as he dove into your lips. Passion teemed between the connection of your lips, his tongue dominating and entering your welcoming mouth. You moaned into his, softening under his touch.

His hand at your neck rushed to your back to force you closer to him, your breasts now hitting his clothes. He further deepened the kiss, exploring the depths of your sultry mouth until you two were breathless, throbbing.

In that last moment he pulled back, a sigh escaping his lips, and you doing the same as you two parted from the vigorous, ungovernable passion.

:readmore:

You and Kaz looked at each other. Really, looked at each other—not like the faint glances you'd once given, unsure of your feelings for one another. You looked right into each other, you gazing into his once cold blue eyes, now incandescent in their softness.

This was Kaz Brekker. Beneath his cynical skin, here he was. Dying to fuck you.

And like that, Kaz was shirtless again. With a bandaged waist, nonetheless, but finally you were allowed to explore his chest as you had yearned to do so badly moments ago. Feel the strength of his muscles, run your fingers over the surface of his pale skin.

But you wanted to allow him such pleasure, too. So momentarily, you hurriedly peeled your shirt off from yourself, cold air hitting your shoulders. With coy eyes, you gazed at Kaz as you slowly reached at your back, releasing your bra, letting it fall to your legs and to the floor.

His eyes were free and vulnerable—a sight to behold. They disarmed immediately under your gaze, then wandered greedily as they meandered the softness of your skin and the pertness of your breasts. Before long his fingertips and the sensation of his lips were all over you.

His gloved fingers brushed against your breast, his tongue delicately roaming your sensitive nipple. You mewled, throbbing, yearning and needing all at once at his touch, fingers crawling at his back, grabbing at what they could.

"Kaz.." you whispered, edged with something harsh like sin. Greed. Desire. He groaned against your skin with his lips exploring your breast.

"Such a good girl.." he hissed. Your brows tightened in pleasure, your restless fingers bringing themselves to dig into Kaz's hair.

Lower and lower, Kaz moved, towards your aching cunt. You were just so sensitive; every brisk touch sent shivers down your spine, engendering greatly your growing need for Kaz deep inside of you.

His clothed fingers slipped into the sides of your pants, and steadily, pulled them down your thighs and down to your legs, allowing you to squirm out of the garment and push it aside. And he did this all while maintaining a lustful gaze—silent, but intimate and personal. The intent of his gaze pulsated in the blue of his eyes.

The intensity in the air was so sharp, it could have been sliced by a dagger. As the tension continued burned, your hand reached for Kaz's.

He scrutinized you intently as you placed his gloved hand in yours. You'd heard tales from the crows about the truth of Brekker's gloves as well as from the whispered rumors of the Barrel; he had never allowed anything to brush his bare fingers, at least for as long as he'd owned his gloves. You knew this was something to do with his past—the tales of his digits being stained with blood made you scoff. Although you wanted to unveil all the layers of Kaz, explore his past and understand the core of who he was, you understood that it would take time.

"..Is this.." you began, holding his hand in yours, as you snuck two of your fingers just barely into his glove. He looked afraid—you knew this was novel to him as his eyes gaped. "Is this okay?"

Kaz's blue eyes then averted from your hand to you and your comforting, lovely gaze. Even if this was difficult for him, he knew he was safe with you. Something about you soothed him, made him want to open up, and there weren't many with the same ability as you.

"Slowly." He eventually whispered, and his voice, his voice was no longer strict. It was wanting, heartfelt.

With an assuring nod of your head, you peeled his glove from off his hand. His hand was beautiful—his skin was soft and his fingers were slim and worked. You guided his fingers between yours, massaging his sleek skin, slowly welcoming his touch.

"I wish you wouldn't hide this." Your voice was low, husky, matching the quiet and amorous atmosphere of the room. "You've got beautiful hands."

"What makes you think that?" He inquired. He was staring at you so intently, eyes so sharp and cunning. He couldn't get enough of you.

You ran your fingertip along the side of his finger, stroking it back and forth. "You have strong skin. Strong fingers; it shows how far you've come."

His brow raised softly. He loved how you worded things; he never thought he'd hear such a thing about him in his life.

Desire sprouting inside of him, Kaz cupped your jaw with his vulnerable hand so quickly you didn't process it until you realized his lips were back on yours. He kissed you fervently, gliding his other hand along your side and onto your breast.

You went like that for awhile until he was back down at your waist. You stood, back against the seat, your cunt begging for touch as Kaz fiddled with the cotton of your underwear, teasing you, loving seeing you so bare.

"You're so perfect." He said as he scrutinized your body. Every scar from the battles before, he loved every inch of you. A tender smile grew on your face.

Patience withered, he slipped the panties from under you. His bare fingers traveled, and he slipped one into your entrance, breaking the earlier anticipation. Your breath hitched, lips split as you watched in front of you, Kaz Brekker fingering you. Like each one of your dreams went.

His left hand followed to press against your clit, rubbing circles into your cunt. The feeling of his fingers was more pleasurable than you could’ve ever imagined—you grasped the edges of the seat, breathing heavily. You were already so wet.

You were mewling and struggling to contain your composure as Kaz entered his ring finger in, pumping his two digits slowly in, allowing you to get accustomed to the tense feeling. He continued to play your pussy with his fingers, eyes reaching your dazed ones.

“There you go. All mine.” He crooned, hovering forward, as he was on his knees, to unleash hot breaths onto your lower stomach and waist, staining your skin with his saliva.

“Kaz…Kaz, don’t stop..” you begged, going on to dig your fingers into his brunette strands of hair, grasping his scalp and tightening your already taut hold as he quickened his pace.

At this point you were a mess. You bucked against his hands as his fingers kept hitting that sweet spot inside of you. Moans fled your mouth, your body stuttered and buckling. Sweat trailed at your temples, the beginning fluids of your climax coating Kaz’s fingers and trailing down your shivering thighs.

“Kaz, I’m gonna..” you bit you lip as his pace became quick and restless. You felt your climax approach, and your body could just barely handle it as your fingers gripped the edge of the seat and roam Kaz’s hair desperately.

“You gonna cum for me?” You nodded fervently with tightened brows. He loved seeing you like this, all he wanted to see was you come undone for him, split in front of him and climax onto his working fingers. “Come on, darling. Cum for me.”

That tipped you over the edge. Your pupils dug into the back your head as your back arched simultaneously. “Fuck!” You cried with collapsed breaths, and you came undone right there. Fluids dripped and coated your pussy, leaving Kaz’s fingers soaked. You shook intermittently, breaths dissolving into the air like mist with your eyes shut, processing all the pleasure that you’d felt all at once.

“Perfect.” Kaz said as he came back up to you, watching as you shook in your strained breaths.

And once more, he connected his lips to yours.

[possumcollege]

Tumblr just fed me a repost thread where someone responded to a meme that said "The Right gave us the Klan and the Left gave us weekends" with this extremely broken nugget of US history. 👇

🌈 This is horseshit.

1: In the 1860s, under what US historians call the Third Party System Republicans were what we would call "progressive" and Democrats were the "conservative" party.

Lincoln was a Republican, as were many Americans who called for the abolition of slavery. Lincoln stated that he was not personally in favor of total abolition and emancipation but he did believe regulation of slavery was a power of the federal government as opposed to state governments. Democrats of the Reconstruction Era favored strict moral legislation against race mixing, opposed citizenship and voting rights for African Americans, and largely opposed the expansion of Federal powers over the individual states.

It's honest-to-god not that hard to understand that American political parties haven't always been the exact same parties they are today. I can't help it if no one ever taught them this but it isn't an obscure or contested piece of information. Anybody trotting this shit out as a dunk on contemporary Democrats is either wrong or lying.

2: The Klan was never a "Leftist Anarchist alternative to law enforcement"

The concept of organized State law enforcement was barely a thing in the South at that time. Most southern law enforcemement consisted of slave patrols mustered from state militias, tasked with finding and capturing runaways, and preventing large-scale slave rebellions like the French experienced in the Caribbean. Slave patrols were abolished after the Civil War and officers were instead charged with enforcing "Jim Crow" laws under Reconstruction. Many of the Klan's tactics were literally the unofficial, vigilante continuation of practices that were legal for slave patrols. At no point were organized "law enforcement" and the Klan working at cross purposes. They both sought to maintain the social order through violent enforcement of white supremacy, the klan just wasn't an official agent of the state.

Anarchists may seek to operate without centralized state authority, but vigilantes are not inherently "Anarchists" because they're ungoverned. By that reasoning, children fighting on the playground are Anarchists.

White Supremacy is itself antithetical to central Anarchist principles, which call for a society based on voluntary participation, free of social heirarchy, or rule-by-force.

3: Whether they know it or not, when someone says that the Klan formed as any kind of peacekeeping force, they are parroting Pro-Klan propaganda.

There are 3 distinct, widely accepted eras of organizations calling themselves the KKK. The first is the most relevant as it formed during Reconstruction in the immediate aftermath of the American Civil War. It began when a number of young Southern men and Confederate veterans took it upon themselves to terrorize and intimidate newly-free African Americans by raiding homes and businesses, destroying property, harassing black communities, and murdering black leaders, organizers, and their allies.

The first iterations of the Klan were heavily influenced by a growing fascination with fraternal orders and secret societies in America during that era. They cribbed heavily from another secret society, the Knights of the Golden Circle, (the Klan's name came from the Greek word for "circle") who hoped to establish a new county around the legality of slavery. This country would've included the states of the CSA, Mexico, Cuba, the islands of the Caribbean, and parts of Central/ South America.

Claims that the Klan existed to oust Scalawags, Carpetbaggers and other Northern opportunists (often said to be Jews and Catholics) who rushed in to fill the vacuum of deposed Southern leadership doesn't emerge until 1868-69 when Nathan Bedford Forrest was formally elected as their first (holy fucking shit 🤦‍♂️) "Grand Wizard."

(this absolute dipshit)

These retroactive narratives were further amplified in the 1880s-90s as Lost Cause rhetoric began to gain momentum among those sympathetic to the confederacy, white supremacists, and those seeking to profit off the continued disenfranchisement of African Americans as cheap prison labor.

These tales of masked men protecting downtrodden southern whites from the grasping, predatory Yankee Carpetbaggers were further enshrined as founding myths of the second Klan, in Georgia in 1915. It remains a popular Whitewashing narrative to this day.

I do not give half a proud southern shit what the guys who were scamming their buddies into buying official Klan dishes in the 20s said the Klan was about. Those actually existed btw. I don't have to give Forrest's claims any more weight than I give Spencer's claims on the motivation of neo-nazis.

Spencer got exactly what both of them deserved when he got socked in the head on TV.