#white supremacy in corporations

[ausetkmt]

A far-right account on X that has recently received a number of replies from Elon Musk is having his old pro-Nazi posts flagged.

The drama began on Sunday when left-wing X user “evan loves worf” noted that Musk had shared a post from @iamyesyouareno, an account with over 368,000 followers that regularly shares racist content.

“Elon is retweeting a Nazi … because he will believe anything a Nazi says,” evan loves worf wrote, sharing a meme iamyesyouareno posted about the media criticizing White people.

The accusation got nearly 5,000 retweets.

Musk’s promotion of the account was not a one-off; he replied to the account eight times in the past month, not counting retweets

On Aug. 28, Musk replied “Wow” to a post from iamyesyouareno where he suggested that crime increased in Ireland over the past 20 years due to migrants.

In another response, on Aug. 20, Musk sent two exclamation points to iamyesyourareno after he shared a story about a 17-year-old girl who was prosecuted for carrying and using illegal pepper spray against a male attacker in Denmark.

The story, which claimed the attack happened near a “migrant asylum center,” had been written eight years earlier.

“Elon doesn’t just occasionally reply to Nazis, he’s literally a Nazi’s reply guy,” wrote one user.

On Wednesday, the incident gained even more attention when iamyesyouareno responded by downplaying the charge of “Nazism.”

“Observing reality equals nazism. Lol, lmao,” they replied. “Cry harder.”

But users quickly flooded iamyesyouareno’s replies with screenshots of his own posts, many of which portrayed both Nazis and Adolf Hitler in a positive light.

“Here’s you saying the Nazis were right you piece of shit,” evan loves worf said, sharing a post where iamyesyouareno quoted George Patton about defeating “the wrong enemy” in World War 2.

In another example, evan loves worf shared multiple posts regarding iamyesyouareno’s views towards Jews, which included his belief that they must be “defeated” after making a (now deleted) reference to the Jewish Question.

— iamyesyouareno (@iamyesyouareno) August 27, 2024

“The guy Elon is replying to is a literal Nazi. Here’s him talking about the ‘Jewish question’ yesterday,” evan loves worf added. “Elon doesn’t mind this of course because he is also a Nazi.”

The guy Elon is replying to is a literal Nazi. Here’s him talking about the “Jewish question” yesterday. Elon doesn’t mind this of course because he is also a Nazi. pic.twitter.com/6QgBjxCgKq— evan loves worf (@esjesjesj) August 28, 2024

Others joined in, highlighting even more of iamyesyouareno’s previous remarks, including Holocaust denial jokes. In another post, though, he said that the Holocaust did happen and he was “very impressed” by the Holocaust’s numbers.

iamyesyouareno has also repeatedly referred to himself as being “Aryan” with “blue eyes,” said the media is owned by “Jews,” and cheered Hitler’s birthday on the site.

In another tweet, when asked “What comes after N?” iamyesyouareno replied “I,” a not-so-subtle reference to a racial slur.

But this kind of outcry is unlikely to deter Musk.

Since taking over the platform, Musk’s purported support of free speech has led to an increase in extremist content.

Under Musk, multiple users with the N-word in their handles have also been allowed to pay for subscriptions, ensuring their content is seen by a wider audience.

[alwaysbewoke]

[ridenwithbiden]

[giantkillerjack]

12 hours after the amazing digital circus episode 2 airs, I see a video on youtube entitled "THEY RUINED JAX!!! 😡"

Like, chill! They literally haven't even finished SHOWING US Jax!! 😂 He's still only had a few dozen lines! I'm sorry about the Jax in your headcanon that you've been growing in the space between episodes, but I don't think there's been enough time to ruin that rabbit yet! 😅

[detectivenyx]

i am extremely worried about people who are like, 'if you didn't like the barbie movie i don't trust you'. there are valid fucking reasons to distrust it that don't boil down to 'the dudebros are angry a film about a girl's doll doesn't have a man at centre frame'

the film very much DOES have a man at center frame and the film is really all about how ken's feelings are treated by the barbies (with the 'punishment' for the barbies treating the kens like shit being subjugated to their own oppression for a few hours - creating a weird implication that oppression will be solved if we oppress the oppressors, but only a little bit, and then they'll realise How Wrong They Were).

the criticism of barbie and what she'd done to the self esteem of generations of young girls is handwaived into a single scene that focuses on how barbie of all people feels about it - in a way that reads like barbie's making a fucking beauty guru tier apology. those weren't tiny criticisms but now mattel can claim that the barbie movie addressed it by making barbie sad at the accusations. (also the criticisms were very much related to barbie's thinness and whiteness, but that was erased for a more 'YOU'RE NOT PERFECT' vague message)

barbie's 'i'm a real woman now!' moment is her going to a gynecology exam - it isn't bad on its own, but it's what it's used to symbolize. it's considered the point where barbie is a 'real woman', and equates real womanhood to having a vagina. that would've been one thing but the film was put out by Warner Bros, whose CEO lights up red in shinigami eyes and is the media company behind the continuation of the harry potter franchise long after rowling's hatred and bigotry became mass public knowledge.

so yeah. forgive me if this film strikes me as less feminist than both its predecessors mean girls and legally blonde AND princess and the pauper which had a trans cat or two in it

[prole-my-tariat]

Being able to see the beauty of what life could be in a world no longer dedicated to the lie of exponential financial growth is one of the cruelest punishments a vicious god could impose.

[reasoningdaily]

Ex-Tesla Worker's $137 Million Settlement Cut To $3 Million

"A jury ordered Tesla to pay over $3 million Monday in a racial discrimination case brought by a former employee of its assembly plant in Fremont, California. The case was brought by Owen Diaz, who worked as an elevator operator at the plant. He reported he regularly heard racial slurs, including the N-word, on the Fremont factory floor, and saw racist graffiti in bathrooms and a racially insensitive cartoon."

[immaculatasknight]

The oppressors' manipulation of language

[zorthania]

A piece about survivors guilt.

This comic isn't perfect. I started it back in October 2023, and every time I picked up my pen, I wept.

I bring this to you today, on 9/11, in hopes that you reflect on this day a little differently than how most Americans would. Let it move you to continue to boycott, protest and challenge your family, friends and colleagues. You have a bigger impact than you would believe.

Thank you for reading this with an open heart.

From the river to the sea...

I'd like to bring to attention the fact that the figures depicted above are a gross undercount of the actual number of deaths. I scoured the internet high and low to source my findings and not a single one could break down the devastation that befell an individual ethnicity. Instead, they lumped a bunch of ethnicities together, provided a general timeline, and called it a day, reinforcing the sheer scale of dehumanization propagated in the west. The only consistency between all the articles I looked up was the 4.5 to 4.7 million figure I've included above, and even then, they were all published by western media news outlets... the very same that have been so unreliable and complicit in the genocide of Palestinians today. So I have to take everything they say with a grain of salt.

We are not just numbers.

All of us have ambitions and desires and lives worth living.

With that said, this is your friendly reminder to:

Donate an e-sim

Donate to PCRF to provide Palestinian children aid

Donate to Pious Projects to provide woman with feminine hygiene kits

Donate to CareForGaza to provide food to displaced families in Gaza either through their Gofundme or their paypal

Donate to any of the vetted gofundme campaigns on GazaFunds to help Palestinians trying to flee Gaza.

And if you or someone you know sees or experiences a hate crime and can afford it, SUE. This is a more effective use of your money than most realise. The reason zionists act with impunity is because of the normalization of white supremacy and oppression of ethnic minorities. Challenging that in any capacity tells them that there are consequences to their actions and makes them think twice before engaging in hate crimes and helps raise all of us up against the systems currently in place that let them get away with it.

If you can't donate or spend any money, you can:

Do your daily clicks.

Boycott targeted companies on the BDS list (if you're like me and you don't want a single dollar to go towards anything supporting Israel right now, you can use Bdnaash to double check what products are okay to buy, but the BDS list is sufficient as it is a strategic attack and proven very effective thus far)

Flood your representatives emails and voicemails with how you won't be voting for them unless their politics align with an immediate ceasefire in Gaza.

Attend a protest, be LOUD.

Challenge your circle of friends, family and colleagues with conversations about Palestine. (THIS IS THE MOST UNDERRATED AND MOST EFFECTIVE THING YOU CAN DO)

and if you're really up to, be disruptive in any capacity that you can think of towards major corporations benefiting from this onslaught. (i.e. halting military manufacturers from production + shipments, sticking boycott stickers on products at your market etc)

And finally, if your country wasn't mentioned in the above excerpt, it was no deliberate omission on my part and I encourage you to come forward and tell your story about the suffering of your people so that this may be a learning opportunity for everyone.

You are seen.

You are not alone.

Thank you again if you've read this far.

From the river to the sea...

[liberalsarecool]

The Right Wing are morons benefitting from structural white supremacy that give below average conservatives too many advantages.

House Republicans are morons.

Senate Republicans are morons.

Republican SCOTUS are morons.

Look how much money they get from corporations and Citizens United-backed influential donors.

The constructs have to go to unrig the systems.

[sixtynineinchnails]

stop making excuses for playing hogwarts legacy.

“the people who worked on the game need to be supported tho 🥺”

the people who worked on the game already got their cut and went home. your money is just going towards jkr and the corporation

“but harry potter was my childhood 🥺”

same. but this isn’t revisiting old media. this is an entirely new product. and you’re allowed to grow out of things and move on when the dead horse gets beaten and your media literacy skills improve.

“but i pirated it 🥺”

playing the game cannot be moralized through piracy because giving money to jk rowling is not the only issue here. the game is violently antisemitic. playing it cannot be evened out through piracy, charity donations, etc. the world doesn’t work like that.

“can’t you just let me have fun? 🥺”

if playing a game made by a racist, transphobic, antisemitic, fatphobic bigot (and a team including at least one alt-right influencer) where the entire plot is to defeat the jews goblins because of white wizard supremacy is fun to you then i think you might need to seriously consider why.

if you are playing hogwarts legacy and/or supporting it online you are choosing to value a video game over the lives of jewish and trans people. you are allying yourself against jewish and trans people. if people hate you for choosing a video game over human lives you have no grounds to be upset.

sometimes doing good things and being an ally is difficult. sometimes it means not doing something that you wanted to do. it’s sucks but that’s life. get over it and shut up.

[politicalprof]

From the Salt Lake Tribune, 2017:

“I am a 67-year-old American white woman. My parents enlisted in World War II to fight fascism. They both served; my mother was a nurse, my father navigated bombers. They lost friends in that bloody war so that all the world could be free of fascism. They did not fight so that some white people could claim supremacy or that Nazis could openly walk the streets of America.

White person to white supremacist person: What is wrong with you?

People of European heritage are doing just fine in the world. They run most of the world’s institutions, hold much of the world’s wealth, replicate as frequently as other humans. You’re not in any danger here. The world is changing, that’s true. Others want a piece of the pie. They work for it, strive for it and earn it. Technology (robotics) is having a greater effect on your job prospects than immigrants. Going forward, tackling corporate control and climate change will need all of our attention, ideas and energy. Put down your Tiki torches and trite flags and get involved in some real work.

By the way, the world won the war against Nazi fascism in the 1940s, just as America won the war against the Confederacy in the 1860s. Aligning with two lost causes just labels you as profound losers.

And finally, white person to white person: Like my parents before me, I will not stand idly by nor give up my rights or the rights of other Americans because you think you are better than some of us. It doesn’t work that way. All Americans stand shoulder to shoulder against your hatred and bigotry.”

Jonna Ramey

Salt Lake City

[dailyanarchistposts]

The way most people talk about climate change we are led to believe we all have an equal part in creating the capitalist nightmare we live in, but that’s a lie. The unsustainable and extractive nature of capitalism grew directly from the ideological and material foundations of European colonization. We cannot hold the entire human species responsible for that. It’s victim blaming.

The vast majority of waste is produced by the same people and institutions who hold power. Fighting for our planet, the health of our land, our food, our homes, our communities, is where the fight against capitalism and white supremacy collide. Any fight for environmental justice must also be a fight for racial justice because BI&POC are the ones who disproportionately bear the weight of climate change.

White Settler Colonialism Is Destroying the Planet, Not Poor BI&POC

Don’t believe the Malthusian and eco-fascist myth that there are too many people on the planet to care for. This is a lie peddled by capitalists, eugenicists, and people who advocate for genocide. We know that every landbase has its limit for how much life it can support (indigenous peoples have been saying this for hundreds of years), but “overpopulation” rhetoric is overwhelmingly used as a means to enforce colonial hierarchies where wealthy white people can maintain lives of access and privilege while poor BI&POC barely survive.

Instead of telling poor BI&POC to have less children or to stop wanting better lives, we should build a movement to fight climate change which centers racial justice, abolishes capitalism, and forces wealthy, predominately white populations to stop hoarding resources.

Here are some Earth Day facts for tomorrow so you don’t fall for the lies:

Just 100 companies are responsible for 71% of global emissions. (Source: the Guardian)

Black communities are exposed to 56% more pollution than is caused by their consumption. For Latinx communities, it is 63%. (Source: American Journal of Public Health)

97% of waste produced in the United States is corporate waste. 80% of businesses are owned & operated by white people. (Source: “The Story of Stuff” & US News)

Indigenous peoples make up less than 5% of the planet’s human population, yet they are protecting 80% of its biodiversity. (Source: National Geographic)

The world’s richest 10% produce half of carbon emissions while the poorest half contribute only 10%. (Source: Oxfam)

The world’s wealthiest 16% use 80% of the planet’s natural resources. (Source: CNN)

We are not all equally “responsible.” White settler colonialism and capitalism are destroying the planet, not poor BI&POC.

[icedsodapop]

Why does the US media always acts so shocked to see extremism and white supremacy from the US military? Oh, you mean an organization that serves the interests of the US government and wealthy corporate interests, an organization that has helped to instill dictators, an organization that enforces US hegemony via weapons of mass destruction in countries with majority Black, Brown and Muslim populations? How could such an organization possibly attract or produce White supremacist extremists? 🤷🏻‍♀️🤷🏻‍♀️

US media: How could a military veteran be a MAGA extremist? How could a military veteran strangle an unarmed Black man? How could a military veteran commit a mass shooting? We need to reckon with the rise of extremism in our military!

Me:

[buzzkillers]

WHITE HOUSE DOWN

Pairing: Hobie Brown x Black!Reader

Summary: You and Hobie fuck after he kills the President of the United States: Norman Osborne.

Tags|Warnings: Happy 4th of July (sarcastic), public oral sex, cum facials, enemies to enemies that fuck, exhibitionism, bratty reader, graphic violence, bad British slang, UNEDITED

WC:4k

In under an hour Fascism, Capitalism and President Norman Osborne died in the same way: pathetically and in a roaring beat of gunfire and raging anarchy.

It was so punk metal that Hobie reckoned he could've cried. 

Maybe even let out a blood curdling scream before he joined his mates in celebration; in a fight that continued to roar beyond the thick walls of this stupid building. Of the world's now fallen symbol of false freedom, colonization and white supremacy.

All of it was dead now anyway, all of it was gone. So yeah Hobie reckoned he should’ve cried; maybe he even was crying but he was too pent up on adrenaline and rock and roll to notice. Who fucking knew. Who fucking cared? 

What mattered was that Osborne’s head was detached, that his guitar was covered in guts and brain and enough idiocratic bullshit that it had clattered to the floor. 

His weapon stained against the fancy White House carpet. He didn’t mind though, it added to the decor. You didn’t seem to give a shit either. For you, blood still stained your locs and your lips stayed wrapped around his cock.

And well Hobie didn't follow rules. They were barely a suggestion in his radar. Yet apart of him knew this was off kilter, even for him. Even for Spider Punk. 

Spider Punk, the not-hero and the now killer who instead of killing capitalist and fighting corporate drones was here. Here with black nails that dug into your back and wicks that kissed the skin of your cheek. 

It felt good. 

This reward, you told him as you guided him towards the pigs desk. Your hands already at the buckle of his jeans before you looked up at him; eyes hazy and murderously dark. 

It reminded him of foggy London nights, of polluted air and days where he gasped for his inhaler. Something that tried to be something else. It made Hobe feel triumphant, out of breath.

And yet this was ‘His reward.’ You growled again as if this was normal and you weren't you but something different, something new.

At that, Hobie couldn’t help but laugh. It was a pretty comedy after all, a neat joke as your palm— shaking and slick with sweat wrapped itself around his cock and your knees dug into the floor. The blood stained floor. 

He inhaled sharply, either from the adrenaline or the genuine need to breathe before his smile slipped into something wide, dangerous. You shot a glare at him. 

"Something funny?" You mouthed, as if your eyes weren't muggy, as if there wasn't a revolution going on a wall away. Hobie of course simply looked down at you, his own eyes liquid dark, but alight with adrenaline and fire and everything that made a corporate pig like Osborne underestimate him. 

“Fuck yeah,” he rolled his hips up.

"Everything's a bit funny right now, love" 

Below him, you only scoffed as if what he said wasn’t sick given the circumstances. 

As if this was simply another one of those nights; those long nights where this would be your signal to leave. To keep your distance from Hobie Brown, the Spider Punk with too much venom on his tongue and righteous anger in his every word. But you didn’t, you simply looked at him, calculative, nervous. 

Around them, the war raged on and the sounds of corporate drones getting their ass beat made the floors vibrate. None of them aware of their leader's demise before his team crushed them into dust. Below him you sighed, that gleam still in your eyes. (murky puddles and polluted skylines.)

"Of course you'd make this hard," 

"Can't just let me suck you off and shut up huh, SP?" You muttered, and you see Hobie would respond. There was always an excuse to be barked, a word to be said. But music still thrummed through his veins, the air was singing (screaming) and you were here. 

Not with Osborne. Not in a lab, cooped up but here. 

He smiled. "I'm not known for consistency," 

"Yeah, yeah, yeah," you rolled your eyes, "I've heard the speech,” 

"can't be consistent, can't be bought, can't shut up,"

Shut up?

He licked his lips and tasted the metal, the blood. 'Im gettin’ tired of your mouth, boy.’ Osborne had sneered before Hobie broke his face in.

Yeah, he didn't listen to him either. He shrugged his shoulders. "Nah, I don't think so,"

You rolled your eyes. “Spider-”

“Aw, am I ruining your fantasy love?" You cut him a look.

“Catchin me off guard like this, you must’ve planned it, no?”

Your grimace deepened. Which was cute. Very cute. “So you’re just gonna keep talking?” 

“—I mean I'm not against you knowin' your onions and all that, but between you being stuck in your lab and arguing with us who knew you had the time,” he whispered, before your eyes went sharp and your nails dug into his thighs. A warning, that only made his cock hard and his hands crack the lip of the desk. Cute. He thought again.  

So bloody cute that he blinked and his heart raced like a drum, like a rip of his pick against his guitar. 

‘Lay on your back’ you said, ‘drop the guitar.’ and he did.

You had demanded it with a trained nonchalance. Completely unbothered as if he didn't hear the way your lungs sharply inhaled when his guitar separated Osborne's head from his spine. Cartilage, tendons and a thick spinal cord crushed into dust beneath his rebellion before you pounced on him.

You gave him that same look now and it was wicked hot. He couldn't deny it. A fun mix of cheekiness and nerves before you cocked your head and, “You know what, fine,”

In a blink, his back was shoved harder against the desk. His hands twisted into your locs, while your mouth wet, hot and slick like honey, like blood enveloped him, turned him inside out and made him want to curl over and actually cry. 

Not cause it felt good or spectacular or amazing but because it was you. Only cause it was you.

Below him you sucked him off like you had something to prove. Like it was a challenge. It would be a crime to look away. To not match rebellion with rebellion, your hatred with his faux indifference while your lips remained dry, your handwork sloppy and your rhythm off. It was honestly the worst blowjob he’s ever had. 

But you were enthusiastic and you looked up at him as if you expected more. Like Hobie was supposed to fall to his knees and thank you. Of course, a flicker of frustration came out when he gave you the opposite: a slick smile and his eyes wide in wonder.

"Leave it to you too give someone an angry blow job," He cocked his head, "Reckon you’re overthinkin’ it, love?” 

You choked in response. Your mouth off his cock and looking as if you were about to spit on the floor before you paused and Hobie watched you swallow instead. Something hot shot in his core.

“Never,” you sneered as if this was just another part of the battle, your own personal fight.  

Hobie just snickered, a gleam in his eyes even as you went still, embarrassment hot on your face. 

“Yeah that's what I guessed," he whispered, before gloved hands gripped your jaw. Tight and restrictive.

“Quick tip? You’re too rough with it love, let me guess didn’t watch enough videos?”  he teased, before he realized where exactly his dick was.

You gave him a sharp smile, "want to repeat that?" No, not particularly. He rolled his shoulders.

“Slow down,” 

“Where's the rush,” he teased before there was a thump and a scream and oh, he guess they've found the bloke's head. Took them long enough. 

If Hobie remembered how hard he kicked it correctly; The fuckers skull was three rooms away with thick walls and flimsy doors in each of them.

His smile turned giddy, "We all the time in the world," 

"Please tell me you're joking," and there it was again, that look.  That need for order and propriety. Hobie patted your cheek.

"What, getting nervous?" Your eyes shot to the door. To the distant footsteps that only got closer to the currently unlocked room. 

"Hobie,"

"Fine," he shot the hinges up with webbing. It wouldn't last. But you didn't need to know that.

"See? Good,"

Quickly, your shoulders relaxed; your nape warm beneath his hand, prickled and covered in sweat till he gripped it harder, guiding you down until your mouth was on him again. He shuddered. 

“Make it wet,” you looked confused, your eyebrows twitching before your mouth went agape and he felt it. 

Something hot and sticky that dripped down his cock. Your lips were now sheen, a messy mix of precum, sweat and everything that would never normally be in a pretty mouth like that. 

Of course, you still managed to glare at him. And yeah nah, he wasn't gonna think about why that made his mouth dry before he angled his hips up and up until the tip of him was at the rim of your lips; he took a deep breath. 

“Grip the desk for me,” 

You frowned again, harder if that was possible. And Hobie couldn't have that. 

"Wh--" in a blink he's already bullied his thumb passed plush lips and sharp teeth. Expertly, rubbing his painted nails against the soft flesh of your cheek until drool and spit slicked down his wrist and, 

"That's wicked," he whispered.

"You’re so fucking pretty like this," You shot him a look. Your eyes still shakingly looking towards the door. The soldiers have gotten louder, they've must've bursted pass the first room. But Hobie only sighed, unbothered

“Is this why you've been so nice to me lately? Been wanting to give me this," he rambled, his eyes back on yours before his smile melted into a smirk. The last thing Osborne ever saw, before his head rolled down the stairs. 

Now, the funny thing about trying to tell a punk what to do was that you shouldn't actually expect them to listen. Osborne learned that the hard way. But you weren’t like the rest of them. No matter what the team said about you turning your back on your upbringing for the cause. You weren’t like them. Clean and simple. 

It was written in the cracks of your face, in the corners of your eyes. That want for order that battled with the need to rebel and make things right. 

 It's probably why you continued to look at him like that; your eyes slitted, red and angry.

You hated it but you wanted it too. Which meant that it took no effort to grip your jaw, keeping it still as you moved to chop your teeth onto his thumb. Light work. 

But it was another thing to dodge the whistle of your studded fist and the gleam of spikes on your knuckles before they're webbed to the dead Pigs desk. You were smart not to try again. Still your face stayed twisted in anger. 

 Hobie couldn't help but laugh again, all sharp teeth and youthful indignation in his voice. 

“I'm not good with mixed signals love, you hate me, you don't, you want to give me a reward about a job well done and then whine about it,” 

“This is still a reward right?” he whispered, his voice deep and molten. It dragged you into a spell, made you nod.  “Good,”

"Now, why don't we start stickin’ to our words, yeah," you made no room to reply, just continued to look up at him with that fire in your eyes that reminded him of madness, of a man whose body could be found in various parts of this makeshift castle. For the first time, Hobies face went stern, his body hands suddenly on your nape gripping tight. 

"Yeah?" He repeated. 

That madness in your eyes only take a moment to flicker, a moment to wick and out before your face twisted again, "Yeah," 

"There we go," 

You made no room to stop him. As his prodded his cock against your lips again, against that slick heat, hellfire, glory, his reward that was found in the tightens of your throat. "Good," 

He gripped the back of your neck tighter. “There we go,” 

“Breathe through your nose,” Then you squeezed your eyes shut, prepared to choke, for Hobie to bruise your throat, for your jaw to ache while he used you like you prepared to use him. 

Then he hummed, like a thrum of his guitar, like the flutter of a hummingbird. It was your only warning before he brought you down, slow, sluggish. He made you feel the weight of him, the way it pressed against your tongue, expanded your throat. 

You couldn’t help it really, the way your eyes closed. The hazy sensation that made your vision blur. Hobie fucked your throat as if he had all the time in the world. As if a world leader wasn’t rotting in the next room. 

And this would be a great time to joke. For Hobie to make you regret bringing him here and not give the secrets to ruining him but nah, this was better. This was more satisfying. Worth the shock in your eyes as you tried to keep them open. Your cunt not so subtly grinding against his boot. 

“Don't look so surprised love” 

“Let me guess, you expected me to go hard?” he whispered, voice ragged.

“Wanted me to bruise your pretty throat?” He dragged himself out again. Withdrew his hips, until your lips were once again at the tip of him. A thick residue of spit left behind.

Good.

Perfect even.

But below him you struggled to remain composed. Your mind was a fog that thickened, and your ears roared with the music that was Hobie Brown. The sounds of his shockwaves still in the air. On a better day, you'd remain aloof. You'd look at hobie with bored eyes and tell him to do his worse.

Clearly, that day wasn't today.

Your eyes were still closed after all, and the taste of him still stained your throat. You wanted more. You wanted-

His hand tightened on your neck. 

“Now when did I say you could do that?”  You blinked up, teary eyed with more of Hobie’s cock in your mouth than he previously allowed.

Suddenly, your cheeks burned and Hobie watched embarrassment wash over you. Watched you drown in it, in an attempt to cover up the desperate move before you just sat there, unable to go forward, unable to move back.  “Cute,” 

And then he jerked forward, cock hitting your throat until tears brimmed in your eyes and well Hobie was only a man at the end of the day. He unwebbed you, “Use your hands wrap them around me,” 

Quickly, you complied. “Yeah love like that,"

You didn’t need further instruction. You continued the slow tempo he set. And for a moment, it stayed like that: you swallowing him with a sloppy mouth and tears in your eyes, your hands now slick with well, everything. Snot, spit and tears. 

He laughed again, a bit more choked up and bit more delirious as your tongue dragged against the undervein of his cock. Sharp pleasure blinded him, he felt like it was too much, not enough. Like his heart was gonna burst from the adrenaline, the heat. 

For a moment, he craved something on his lips too. Something just as hot and slick and you. He reckoned you'd like that. Want to shut him up with your thighs locked around his head and your cunt slick on his studded tongue. If you were gonna do this, you might as well do it right, do it in the worst way possible while Osborne's corpse rotted in the next room. 

Below him, you gripped him tighter. Suckled your lips at the head of him until he shuddered and groaned. His palms slicked in blood gripping right at your face. If he knew this would be the reaction to winning the war— he'd bring Osborne back to life himself. 

Let you watch him kill him again, again and again if it meant you looked at him like that. Like a drunkard, like the feeling he got when he strummed his guitar just right, just perfectly against his pick. Until you were like this: your lips, tight and harsh. Sucking him off as if it was another fight, your eyes red hot with anger and tears.

He was close.

He couldn’t even be embarrassed, if they knew what a pretty picture you made no regular bloke  would be either before he felt it. That liquid hot build up; like something molten that grew and morphed and dripped in his belly before his thighs trembled, his fist cracked the desk and you looked marvelous. 

He tried to draw away, cause he was proper and raised right but he couldn't get far. Not against someone who looked like they wanted to prove something. You started this for a reason after all. So of course, your hands pressed into his hips, kept him still. Fucking brat.

Before the room became an echo chamber of gasps and whines and— he lurched forward, hands on your shoulders, a sharp cry of your name. 

 The orgasm was just as violent as the murder. It ripped through him and rearranged his insides until it felt painful, overwhelming. Like he was stuck in his own shockwave, pulled at the seams, the points of musical notes at his ears. 

Then he whimpered, sharp and inaudible. But it made your eyes glitter all the same before you pulled off him with a satisfying grin as the violence in him transcended to a soft shudder. 

Both of you didn't talk for a minute. Just let everything settle. Until slowly the world trickled back in and Hobie watched half amused and half delirious as across your face, emotions flickered too fast for him to dissect. 

What he did know was that you were looking at him, at the floor and then randomly at the door. Oh yeah, the goons. He should focus on that, but you were still on your knees, looking pretty and fucked out and well Hobie couldn't help it. He suddenly had the taste for something sweet.

"Up, c’mon" 

You looked at him, leg kneeled. "Fuck you,” you coughed, throat dry. “Where do you think I was doing?"

He shook his head, and with little effort, he towered over you. You looked up at him, eyes wide, lips plush and the corner of your mouth twinkling with beads of white and shit, shit. Hobie did not wait for you to get up. 

In a blur of red white and blue, the two of you switched places. It was like carrying a stack of paper, a bag of groceries before you plopped into the desk; your eyes wide, legs spread and cunt wet through your trousers.

 "Hobie come on—"  

His thumb dug into the seam of your jeans, ripped them in two until you were cunt hit cold air. You dripped on the desk. "Don't be selfish,”

“I thought this was a reward,” And then hobie’s tongue was on you, desperate and hot. 

Studded fingers pressed into your hips, digging,digging and  "Hobie, what-”  Hobie pressed you further into the desk. 

His tongue was slick and sticky against your folds. The pleasure that was white and hot grinded you to a halt. Your brain morphed into mush. You weren't going to last. This, you can admit with a certainty as your thighs wrapped around hobie’s head anyway. 

You looked towards the door, but Hobie with his freakishly long arms gripped your jaw and forced your eyes back on him. Pay attention, they said. Until your eyes went wide, frantic; and your hips fought the battle of jerking away from Hobie and against him while he flicked your clit; his finger prodding against your entrance. 

It's almost embarrassing how fast you came.

Even worse how you tried to hide it. With teeth the bit into your wrist, and moans that you tried to choke down while your hips moved on him with a grind that only made it worst, made it last.

You grunted and swore, the flat palms of your hand slammed into the desk. Once twice and then Hobie got up, looked at you splayed out on Osbornes desk, jeans pooled to your knees, the hairs of your cunt glistening. 

"Good?”

With a gasp, you could only focus on the sound of the door as the screams of soldiers bulged against the doors frames. 

Your blood was pulsing but you couldn’t feel your throat. Couldn’t feel the scratches and bruises that later you won't be able to tell was from Hobie or from the fight. 

The wooden door bent beneath the weight of the army. Before eventually it popped and you threw the spider a smile. 

“Good,”

[poetry-feeling42]

Any liberal who thinks Biden stands a chance this election and demands that anyone who wants peace in this world need to compromise their values and submit to the authority of the Democratic Party has not learned a single thing about the 1968 DNC rebellion.

You cannot win with a pro war candidate, only peace will land you the election. If you spineless liberals don't want to place this election directly into Trump's hands, then you need to demand the Democrats cease the genocide in Gaza, establish a permanent ceasefire, and dismantle Apartheid, and not only run another candidate in place of Genocide Joe, but one who will end the US sanctioned bombings, killings, and countles injustices in Palestine, Sudan, Congo, West Papua, Tigray, Haiti, and so many more countries across the world. Someone who will end the suffering happening here the stolen land of Turtle Island. You need someone who will compromise with the Left, and steer ,1this country away from dictatorial fascism and towards liberation and decolonization of the failed colonial project that is the American Empire.

You can degrade and reprimand us until your tongue falls off, but unless you demand better from your cherished Blue Corporate Puppets©®™, you will not save anyone. Not black people, not brown people, not queer people, and not even your own worthless hide.

Will you tremble and capitulate to murder and oppression, or will you stand up and fight for the liberation of all people? Will you demand all power to all people? Or will you shrink away and let white supremacy reign free, knowing you'll be spared by your overlords for abandoning your Black brothers and sister, your Native brothers and sisters, your Palestinian brothers and sisters, your Queer brothers, and everyone who has been under attack for too damn long by this cruel empire?

Will you make the right choice?