"Valentines Day is a capitalistic scam made to sell chocolate and flowers!" Eddie Munson bellowed, leaping to the top of a cafeteria table not even ten minutes into lunch. 

"Do you think he was born like this, or just dropped on his head as a baby?" Heather asked, rolling her eyes as the super senior began waving his arms around, getting way too into  his annual “anti-valentines day” rant. 

Steve, who'd tuned out the dramatics in favor of trying to figure out how he could ditch school, only heard her because she’d begun running her foot up his leg.

Directly in front of Patrick.

As if half the school didn’t know he planned on asking her out after school. 

Long over being a part of these kinds of games, Steve kicked out, forcing Heather’s leg off his. 

He did it harder than he intended and immediately winced, as  if he hadn’t meant to do it at all. Aimed a sad little look at her, softening his eyes in the way he knew ladies loved while murmuring a quiet "sorry.” 

A pudding cup was offered as an additional apology--which Heather, thankfully, accepted. 

Crisis averted, Steve used the movement of handing the cup over to get his legs well out of Heather's range. He had other things to think about today, and getting drawn into whatever drama Heather was trying to brew wasn’t on the list. 

Particularly given the basketball team as a unit had started snubbing him out. 

"Newsflash ladies! Your man isn't taking you to some shitty restaurant because he loves you, he's doing it because he hopes you'll give it to him in your car!" Munson continued, voice growing impossibly louder. 

A crude gesture followed, involving hip thrusts and hand jabs.

 Several of the cheerleaders shot him disgusted looks as he did it. 

"Definitely dropped on his head." Carol said, glaring at Munson as his little group of freaks and geeks cheered him. "More than once." 

Steve hummed an agreement, more on automatic than from actually listening. He knew how to look like he was paying attention, even if his head was deep in possible escape plans. 

If he dipped at the last minute to the bathroom on the way to fifth period, Tommy wouldn't have time to stop him and he could make a break for his car…

That just left making up a plausible enough excuse as to why thee Steve Harrington, whose single status was the current hot topic of the school, left school early on Valentines Day. 

("Candy, sex, the overwhelming affection of all the ladies." Tommy drawled out that morning, practically preening. "Valentine's Day is the best holiday man. Just look at all this!"  

He waved a hand at his locker, which was absolutely covered in paper hearts. 

"The rally squad put hearts on the lockers of everyone on the basketball team, Tommy." Carol argued, rolling her eyes. "Steve’s is practically buried in them.”

Tommy opened his mouth to respond, no doubt with something else teasing and rude, but Carol’s elbow caught him in the gut first. 

“If you keep acting like this you're not getting any sex." She warned. 

"Aww baby, don't be like that. You know you're the only one for me." Tommy teased, with a wink that prompted Carol to smack him on the shoulder.

Laughing, he added: "Besides we can't fight or we'll miss our favorite game. Which poor gal thinks this year is the year Steve will take her out on a date!"

Carol allowed Tommy to put an arm over her shoulder, the two of them turning knowing grins on their friend as a singular unit. 

Even if Steve hadn’t felt like their friend in a hot minute. 

Not in the way he used to. 

"I do love watching them stutter through their little confessions.” Carol admitted, like this wasn’t something they’d loved doing since middle school. “I wonder if anyone will ever top Cindy Komer." 

Steve almost wasn't fast enough to cover his wince--that particular incident had been painful for him and Cindy. 

Steve still had no idea what he'd said to make the then-freshman cry. 

He thought he'd been nice about turning her down, but judging by Carol constantly quoting what he'd said, Steve had a feeling he'd accidentally been an asshole again.

Not that anyone ever thought it was accidental. 

“Steve? Hel~lo? Are you listening?” Carol said, snapping to get his attention and God did Steve hate that.

Never realized just how much until Nancy but after she’d pointed out that Carol treated him and Tommy both like her dogs, well. 

It was hard not to notice--and be a bit resentful. 

“God you keep doing this, you’re turning into such a space case.” Carol continued, the edge back in her voice. The same one she’d been using for a while, like Steve was on her last nerve. “Please tell me you’re not still mooning over Nancy fucking Wheeler.” 

“No.” He snapped, only to know instantly that was the wrong move, and try to fix it before Carol blew up. “No--I’ve just already had to fend someone off today. Like first thing--I was barely out of my car.”

There, that should keep Carol and Tommy both off his back for being “angry” and it wasn’t even a lie. He really had been asked out earlier, though the girl had been gracious about his rejection.  

Of course, this kind of instant redirection came with a price--and in this case, it was being absolutely hounded for more information. 

“Oh shit who!? Was it that Buckley girl?” Carol perked up immediately, like a hunting dog scenting prey. “I swear she stares holes in your head, she’s so weird…” )  

"This isn't about romance! It's about showing who has the most cash, gets the most sex! It's a pathetic social ritual you're all falling for!” Munson yelled, jolting Steve back into the present.  “I bet none of you even enjoy it!” 

"Tell that to all the girls Steve’s dated!” One of the younger basketball guys hollered, prompting a wave of laughter from the rest of the cafeteria. “They seem to enjoy it plenty!”

Steve couldn’t see who had said it, and should have felt the normal wave of smug warmth that the team had his back.  

Except his team had already proven they didn’t. 

Were in fact, siding more and more with Hargrove, just as Tommy was. 

They were rapidly approaching a watershed moment. Steve could feel it, the same way he’d always been able to tell when a crowd was about to turn.

He was losing, but was still on top of Hawkins social spaces enough, had caught it early enough, that he could turn everyone’s favor--if he wanted. 

Emphasis on ‘if.’ 

Munson spun to face his table, hair whipping to smack him in the face. The guy had clearly been trying to grow it out, but right now he looked like one of those poodles Carol's mom loved so much. 

So said Carol, anyway. 

"You sure about that?" Munson challenged, a crazed grin breaking across his face. "Rumor has it King Steve lost his groove ever since Wheeler dumped him!" 

Steve grimaced, though he was secretly thankful Munson went with "dumped" instead of "cheated on" (or any of the other vile words Billy had flung around, spreading across the school in the sick, crawling way rumors moved. 

Hargrove had been positively brutal about the whole Jonathan and Nancy thing, and the only reason he wasn't here now to spin this whole situation against Steve was because the guy always vanished at lunch.)

Tommy's face morphed into an affronted snarl, hands slapping down on the table. He turned expectantly to Steve, waiting for "The King" to get up and "handle" Munson.

Like Steve even cared about this dumb high school shit anymore. 

It took him a moment to realize Steve wasn’t planning on doing anything. Was in fact, going to remain perfectly quiet, other than an eyeroll and half-assed middle finger in Munson’s direction. 

Tommy let out a disgusted scoff in his direction and then decided to handle things himself. 

(Like that had ever been a good idea.)

“Shut up, Freak. The only game you have is in the prison showers.” He snapped, half rising from the table. “Isn’t that why you keep your hair long? So all the boys will actually fuck you?!” 

Whistles and yells lit the air, though Steve didn’t miss how the girls at the table looked taken aback at the sheer vitriol in Tommy’s voice. 

Even Carol looked startled, eyes sliding to meet Steve’s as if to confirm she hadn’t just imagined it. 

The three of them had always been good at this kind of mindless high school banter, but this over the top, crude shit? 

It wasn’t Tommy’s style.

It was Hargrove’s.

(That was its own growing issue. 

The way Tommy was gravitating towards Billy. 

How Carol kept expecting Steve to act like he used to. 

That she blamed his “outbursts” on Nancy, snidely mentioning that Steve had better have learned his lesson about “changing his personality for pussy.” 

Even now Steve knew they were only defending him because Munson was the one saying it.) 

“I didn’t realize Harrington still had his attack dog!” 

Munson put a hand against his heart as though injured, staggering dramatically backwards. 

“I thought you were too busy putting your tongue up Hargrove’s ass to bark at people!” 

Tommy immediately fired back, letting loose an uninspired string of curse words and something about Eddie being queer again. Steve didn’t hear the specifics--didn’t care to hear it, even as things started to spiral out of control. 

All he wanted to do was go home. 

Ideally before Billy got back from lunch and decided to make a spectacle himself, because Steve could feel that coming just as he could everything else. 

He was running out of time to come up with an excuse to get out of here without making a production out of it, and Munson wasn’t someone he wanted to piss off today, given he’d half hoped to buy weed off the guy before he ditched.

…Which was looking more and more unlikely given Tommy had just screeched some insult that had put Munson’s sights back on Steve. 

“You sure? Cause Harrington looks like he’s just gonna sit there and take it, just like he takes everything Hargrove and Wheeler and anyone else throws at him.”

He leered, leaning forward as if to see into Steve’s very soul. 

“I don’t know if anyone else has noticed, but our beloved King here hasn’t exactly been defending his crown. If anything, he’s abandoned it.” 

The world stopped. 

This was the first time someone actually called him out on the fact that he often let whatever crap Billy spewed go. That Nancy and him had a few awkward encounters publicly, with at least one of them starting a rumor that she’d told Steve to fuck off. 

(She hadn’t of course, but Carol had stopped running damage control, and Steve was feeling the effects of her ire.) 

Silence echoed, and Steve realized with a dawning sort of horror, that Munson was waiting for a response from him. 

Just as the entire cafeteria was. 

The catalyst was here, brought on early by one Edward Munson. 

With a startling amount of clarity, Steve realized he was done. 

With his so called friends, with  the girls who’d tried corning him all morning, with Hargrove and just--everything. 

He was over it. 

If Billy wanted the crown so bad he could fucking have it. 

(If Tommy wanted to pretend he was tougher than he was by mimicking the dick, then he could have that too.) 

“This is stupid.” Steve announced, dropping the masks he so carefully wore. The ones he kept having to fix, because the Upside Down and its related demons (human and non) kept taking chunks out of it. 

He stood, feeling the weight of the room press down on him as he faced them all down. 

“Yeah--!” Tommy started to pile on, seeming to think Steve was about to unleash hell, and got the surprise of a lifetime when Steve turned and jammed a finger in his face.

“Shut up.” He snapped. 

Knew instantly he only got away with it by the fact that he’d caught everyone off guard.  

King Steve did a lot of things, but he rarely blew up. 

“This is stupid.” He reiterated, voice booming across the lunch room, “ You wanna fight? Fine, but leave me out of it.”  

“The King doesn’t want to play? Why I never thought we’d see the day!” Munson clucked his tongue, and without missing a beat Steve turned to him. 

 “For someone who is always screaming about nonconformity, you sure are happy to attack anyone who doesn’t do what you want.”

Steve’s voice was loud, but he wasn’t screaming. Wasn’t yelling or throwing his arms around.

He didn’t need to. Had never needed to. 

“I heard you going off on that guy whose lunch you're standing on yesterday, because he wanted to watch the Colts play.” Steve continued, voice cold. “Half of your friends are terrified of you, because you’ll scream at them just like you accuse us of doing--and let’s be real here, Munson, you do it more.”

In a dramatic move that absolutely, 100% came from Dustin and his theatrics, Steve shrugged his letterman jacket off and bunched it into a ball. 

“You might as well crown yourself King, because you’re the exact same as the rest of us. Here--you can start with this.”  

Cocking back an arm, Steve let the jacket fly. Watched with everyone else as it  landed neatly right at Eddie’s feet. 

Shell shocked, Munson’s eyes drifted from Steve down to the letterman jacket and back. They were massive, those stupid eyes of his, but at least it meant Steve could see the realization wash over the guy in real time. 

Steve should have felt smug about it. His past self would have.

Presently? 

He just felt tired. 

“You’re welcome to jam it up your ass.” He finished, before giving his own sarcastic half bow to the room.  

The cafeteria was dead silent. Not a fork was scraped, or a loud piece of chip chewed. All eyes were on Steve, some waiting to see if Eddie would let him have the last word, others just  shocked to see Steve lose his shit in front of them. 

Idiot he was, he tried to rally anyway. 

Even Tommy, who’d partly stood up, hands pressed against the lunch table looked shocked.

“What the fuck Steve!?” He sputtered, and it wasn’t long before half the basketball team was muttering similar remarks. 

They were ignored. 

Whispers ripped across the room when Steve turned on his heel, striding towards the exit and making it clear things were over, but Tommy didn’t give up. 

“Fuck you Harrington!” He hurled at his back, Carol now standing and placing a restraining hand on his arm.  “You’re not fucking better than any of us!” 

Steve didn’t even look back. 

"That's my point Tommy." Steve said, loud enough to be heard. "No one is better than anyone else. You lot are all just buying into your own bullshit.” 

Then he was slamming through the doors, and out into the sunlight. 

xXx

He didn’t want to go home.

Not anymore, which was ironic in a way that made Steve’s face screw up in a grimace.  

Here he’d been dying to go to his stupid house all day, and now, after losing his shit and undoubtedly, the last of his social standing, he just didn’t feel like being by himself.

All alone, in a house too big for him, full of nothing but dark corners and a phone that never rang. 

So instead, he wandered, reminiscing on how Valentine's Day used to be his favorite day of the year. 

Steve loved the gesture of it all--the romance, the wooing. The butterflies floating in one's stomach, mixing with fear of rejection and a burning kind of hope towards starting something new. 

Of course, Steve also had always had a girl in mind, when he celebrated. Now, after Nancy…

He did not.

It felt weird to go to Skull Rock--the place he himself had made into Hawkins hottest makeout spots. Likewise all the local restaurants were off limits--too many adults knew how much he loved the holiday. 

Steve didn’t want to face that. The expectations, the knowing winks that would slide into uncomfortable frowns. Any possible advice given wouldn’t be appreciated, and the last thing Steve wanted was to get the “everyone has an off season, son” speech. 

So he’d stayed away from his usual haunts. Explored some storefronts instead, the Beamer parked in front of Family Video as he wandered. 

Had an entirely too peaceful two hours, which of course, meant he had to bump into someone.

At least, Steve thought dully, whole body tensing in preparation, it was Munson. 

Not Hargrove, or Tommy, or hell--the children, demanding he help them fight some other fucked up creature the government had accidentally summoned. 

“Hey Harrington.” Munson said, and it took a moment for Steve to realize the guy was embarrassed. “I uh, I need to talk to you.” 

Steve just stared at him.

“If you couldn’t tell from earlier,” He warned, “I’m a little done talking for today.” 

Or any day, for the foreseeable future. 

“Yeah no--I, I got that.  I--okay.” Eddie stopped rocking on his heels, before giving his entire body a shake, like the guys sometimes did while prepping for a game. “Hear me out, and then you can deck me or leave or whatever makes you feel better.” 

“I’m not going to deck you.” Steve said, exasperated and frazzled and not wanting to do this whole song and dance a second time. 

Not that it mattered, because Munson had already launched right into whatever it was he needed to say. 

“There’s this book right? My Uncle got it for me. It’s a fantasy book all about this big battle and there’s these wizards in it, and--” He stopped himself, shaking out his hands.

Like he realized he was rambling and needed the movement to get himself back on track. 

“I always--I guess I saw myself as a Gandalf kinda guy? Like I was this shepherd herding these lost sheep. A person who intimately knew all the dark forces of the world and could be a shield for them. Do not pass and all that.” 

He chuckled, but it was weak, and he killed it almost immediately. 

“...Okay?” Steve said, knowing he was supposed to say something here, even if he had no idea what. 

Maybe something about how Gandalf the Grey wasn’t exactly a shepard given he’d led the hobbits straight into Mordor, but saying that meant admitting Steve knew what Lord of the Rings was, which wasn’t a conversation he felt like getting into. 

Particularly not because he’d only read the damn things after losing a bet to Dustin and Mike both. 

Munson nodded, as if acknowledgement was all he needed. 

 “I thought that’s what I was doing. I wasn’t and I didn’t realize I wasn’t until you pointed it out. You shouldn’t have had to point it out. You shouldn’t have had to say any of what you did.” He rushed to add, oddly sincere. 

"Is this…" Steve might be confused but catching on, an uptick at the corners of his mouth as the tiniest spark of amusement leaked through. "an apology? Are you trying to apologize right now?"

Eddie groaned, flinging his head back. "No!” 

Then immediately; 

“Actually yes, but--”  

Which caught Steve off guard enough that he laughed, and had to hide it with a cough. 

“I am sorry, man. I shouldn’t have said that shit about you, especially not about you and Wheeler. It's more than that though.” Munson swallowed, before squaring his shoulders. “It’s that you were right." 

“I was right?” Steve repeated dumbly, because fuck, he couldn’t believe it either. 

Not that Munson heard him. Eddie always had been hard to stop once he started, and Steve had been in enough classes with the guy to know the train had left the station. 

"I did yell at Jeff because he wanted to watch that stupid football game.” He began, and Steve got a front row seat to watch as one Eddie Munson word vomited his way through a myriad of emotions. 

“I fuckin’ lost it on Grant because he missed band practice to drive his sister to some thing. Gareth looked like I was going to hit him when I asked if I had really been that bad--same exact look he gave Hagan and those other assholes that cornered him in the bathroom two weeks ago!” 

“Tommy did what?” 

Steve was promptly ignored. 

(Or more likely, Eddie simply didn’t hear him, too lost in his own voice to realize Steve had said something.) 

There were a lot of mentions of the Gandalf guy. Where Eddie thought he’d gone wrong, and even something about a glowing eye thing that had Steve a little concerned until he realized Munson was talking about Sauron (and also made Steve realize that he’d been pronouncing Sauron in his head wrong, oops.) 

“I called up this friend of mine who graduated. She’s always been no nonsense, so I asked her for her advice.” Munson said, finally seeming to slow down a little. “She told me I might as well eat my own doctrine because I sure wasn’t living by it, and that if I wanted to fix it then I should start by apologizing. To everyone but--to you, first.” 

Eddie took a step back, winging out his hands as if to present himself. 

“So here I am. Apologizing.” 

A pause wherein neither of them did a thing, which caused him to awkwardly add; “To uh, you. Harrington.” 

“Yeah I got that.” Steve said, because what else was he supposed to do here? “Good for you? I guess?”

“Most people either forgive a guy or tell him to fuck off.”  Munson pouted, and mimicked like he was kicking at a rock. 

It made Steve want to laugh again, though he shoved the urge down. 

“Someone once told me,” He said instead, speaking slowly to make damn sure he didn’t let slip this piece of advice came from a middle schooler. “that apologies without actions don’t really mean anything. They’re a start--they let people know you’re aware you screwed up, but no one’s going to trust you if you don’t follow through. So I can forgive you, but I think you’re better off doing this with one of your friends.” 

Someone who would hug it out, or at least tell Eddie how he could be better, at least. 

Rather than argue, Munson just titled his head back, eyes to the sky. Like he was really thinking on the words, before giving a sort of accepting sounding noise.  

“Trying too.” Steve admitted with a sigh. 

“That’s what you’ve been doing, isn’t it?” He asked, head coming back down so he could stare at Steve.

“The thing in the cafeteria was a good start.” 

“Yeah?” 

Eddie grinned. 

“Yeah. Don’t think Hagan’s gonna see it the same way though.” 

“We were falling out anyway.” Steve admitted, and hated how easy it was to say.

That they really were just going through the motions of friendship. Had been, ever since Jonathan had punched Steve in the face. 

“Think you lost more than just him as a friend, to be honest.”  

“Pro tip about the actions thing, Munson?” Steve said with a snort, once again unsure of where this conversation was going, “Nice people don’t typically point out when someone’s turned into a social pariah.” 

“No, I get that. Say,” Eddie’s grin had grown, which Steve would have taken poorly except he invaded Steve’s space with a goofy little hop. “I think you might be in need of some new ones!” 

“New…friends?” Steve hesitated, very unsure of what was happening. 

Munson promptly stuck his hand out. “Yup! So--hello, my name is Eddie Munson, and I am here to apply for the position as your friend!” 

Steve snorted, but the harshness of it was taken away by the grin on his face. 

He took Eddie’s hand, noting how doing so made the older teen’s smile widen. 

“Nice to meet you Eddie, I’m Steve.” 

Excited, Eddie waived their arms up and down, with far more enthusiasm than the gesture required. 

“How about we cement our new friendship by renting a truly terrible horror movie and drowning our woes with my other good friend, Mary Jane?” 

Then he waggled his eyebrows, like that was something scandalous. 

“Tempting me along with weed, huh?” Steve mused back, sticking his hands in his pockets once Eddie let him go. “Guess you’re a little like Gandalf the Gray after all. Just don’t send me on any missions.” 

“Steve Harrington.” Eddie gaped, pure delight spreading across his face. “Have you read Lord of the Rings!?” 

He got a shrug and a sly; “Maybe.” in response. 

It was worth the barrage of questions, even if the rapid fire pace of them nearly gave Steve a headache.

(Just as it was worth it several months later, when Steve was comfortable enough to instigate wrestling matches with Eddie over the dumbest of things. 

One particularly semi-drunk tussle over the remote led to an interesting discovery when Eddie popped a boner, and then frantically tried to escape when it brushed against Steve’s leg. 

 Instead of panicking--or letting Eddie bolt in his panic, Steve just dropped his whole weight down, effectively pinning the slimmer man to the floor. 

“Steve.”

Eddie said it so quietly he almost didn’t hear it, the word filled with desperation.

The kind of tone someone whispered a prayer in, a sort of pleading that Eddie did better with his eyes than his voice. Or would have, given his own were firmly scrunched closed the second he realized he’d been caught out. 

Except--

“Not right now I’m thinking.”  Steve told him absently. 

Which he was. Speed thinking even, if that was a thing. 

Because if two plus two equaled four (which it did) then feeling the exact same, fluttering excitement about Eddie’s boner as Steve had Nancy’s breasts, equaled…

“The fuck? Steve--”

Steve shushed him. 

That pulled a frustrated, embarrassed groan from Eddie that went directly to Steve’s own dick, not that it needed much help waking up. 

“I think I’m having one of those crisis’s Robin is always accusing the basketball team of having.” Steve informed Eddie dutifully, the dots done connecting.

Eddie, still refusing to open his eyes, snorted. 

“Whatever man. Can you at least be decent and hurry up with the beating? This is embarrassing enough.” 

“I’m not going to beat you up.” Steve said, thankful that his brain managed not to add some shitty comment about the entire town being awash in rumors of Eddie’s sexuality. That he’d confirmed it here wasn’t exactly a surprise. 

“I’m going to try something. If you don’t like it, let me know.” Streve added, before screwing up his courage and leaning down.

That of course, got Eddie to open his eyes.

“Wha--” He managed, before Steve’s lips were on his. 

For one single, blissful moment, Eddie Munson’s mouth was too busy to talk. 

“Yeah?” Eddie said, voice wrecked, and oh, Steve liked that. 

“Huh.” Steve muttered, when they broke for air. “Well that’s new.”

Liked the way Eddie looked at him more, hesitant, but with heat in his gaze. 

Steve had always been good about knowing what to do with heat. 

He leaned back down, pecking lightly at Eddie’s lips, and was delighted to find Eddie not only let him, but kissed back. 

“Not bad, Munson, but I think I could give you a few pointers.” Steve muttered, nose ghosting alongside Eddie’s. “Let me show you…” 

One boyfriend, several weeks, and another interdimensional monster later, Steve found himself socked in the arm by none other than his coworker, Robin Buckley. 

In her defense, she’d confessed her love for Tammy Thompson, still somewhat drugged on the Starcourt bathroom floor, only for Steve to tease her that at least his boyfriend could actually sing. 

“God you and Eddie Munson.” She muttered after, smile on her face. “How did that happen?” 

Steve knocked his shoe into hers, returning the grin unabashedly. 

“So remember last Valentines Day?” Steve started, all too eager to finally tell someone who understood about the best thing to ever happen to him. 

Robin of course, would soon also be ranked in that same chart, but Eddie didn’t need to know that. ) 

like. okay yeah I have my own criticisms of bourgeois academia as an instrument of class rule, but some of this is a bit silly. a lot of people are acting as though academia refers solely to like, literature degrees.

like at a fundamental level, yes, the purpose of a degree is as a barrier to access - but that is not in and of itself always a negative thing! the proletariat also requires the ability to produce, assess, and verify intellectuals. all the 'why the fuck should I care if the student across from me cheated on their tests, never attended class, etc' talk falls apart when the question being answered by their possession of a degree is 'should this person be permitted to design and construct buildings'! fundamentally, yes, someone cheating on their exams devalues a degree, because the confidence in qualification granted by that degree is lessened - not to mention the inherent danger of a fraudulent qualification! (strangely, this argument hasn't been extended to driving license exams yet, though I'm sure the inevitable libertarian convergence isn't far away.)

in all the discussion of burning down the local polytechnical, i have seen vague mention to academia existing as a barrier to access, some scant reference to discrimination against poor and minority students, but zero mention of the actual role of bourgeois academia and the intelligentsia in upholding bourgeois rule! it's all simply coming from the point of view of the restrictiveness being bad because it prevents people from getting high-paying jobs or the like, and the vague notion of elitism. again, with all abolition discourse here, given the lack of any real class analysis, the question is - are we talking solely within the context of capitalism, of existing bourgeois institutions? if so, why? why limit our positions to capitalist realism, to an essentially liberal discourse? if not - then how have we not reconciled the real, practical value of these technologies (mass education, examination, qualification) with their specific characteristics under capitalism?

everything has both positive and negative aspects. bourgeois class rule itself, even, was once a truly progressive thing. we can acknowledge the negative side of bourgeois academia without ignoring its positive side - and still take it on the whole that it, along with all bourgeois institutions, should be torn down and replaced by proletarian ones. that, stripped of their capitalist character, these are useful barriers.

Fundamentally, the point is this: why is our focus on attacking the barriers keeping us from class mobility, from high-paying jobs, themselves; instead of on attacking the existence of the high-paying, middle-class jobs that themselves characterise a fundamentally useful, practical system like examination as an instrument of class rule?

New Romantics - Chapter One - Wanda Maximoff Series

Summary: Trapped in a loveless relationship that has cost her friendships, Wanda watches her senior year of school turn upside down after a party. She will make new friends and may end up learning that not every relationship is doomed to failure.

Warnings: (+16), straight and toxic relationships, making out, underage drinking, language, co-dependency, conversations about insecurity and self-worth, attempted romantic comedy, unrequited love at first, friends to lovers. | Words: 4.236k

Skamverse Collection | Series Masterlist | AO3 | Wattpad |

--//--

Chapter One - Parties and Makeups

“The global mentality is moving toward free world trade and increased market liberalism. A world full of opportunities. A world where dreams can come true. It sounds fantastic, and it is fantastic. For a very small percentage of us. But for the vast, poor majority, the capitalist system only means one thing: death and suffering. While we live out our days thoughtlessly and stuff ourselves with cheap food. The poor people of the earth struggle in factories. Wages are forced down to the minimum, while the work hours keep increasing. Unionization is illegal, and the working conditions are intolerable. Before applauding freedom, we must remember one thing: Our over-consuming society stands on the shoulders of the coffee beans from Peru. We gorge on cheap food produced by underpaid children hands from India[...]”

Novi Grad, Monday, 1:00 pm.

"So what do you think?"

Wanda licked her lips, trying to choose the right words to define the monologue her boyfriend has been reading the last few minutes. Vision stares at her in anticipation.

"It's smart." She says, and he gives a soft laugh.

"Is that all? Don't you think I should change something?"

She sighs, shrugging. "I don't know, it's just good." She murmurs, thinking for a moment before adding. "Maybe exclude cheap food? You used it twice..."

Vision leans over to look at the paper. "No, you see, because that's a technique to emphasize the idea I picked up..."

Wanda stopped listening - Yes, she hated doing it, especially at how often it happened. But her attention was diverted to the other side of the courtyard, where a group of girls was leaving the school building. Most of them didn't notice that Wanda was watching, but one of them did. Eve, once she realized it, assumed an icy expression that made Wanda's stomach churn. The girl next to her was Jean Grey, and as soon as she followed her friend's gaze, she raised her middle finger in Wanda's direction before continuing walking.

Wanda swallowed dryly and looked away. Vision cleared his throat, waving in front of his girlfriend's eyes to attract her attention.

"Hey, don't let that get to you." He tried, leaning in to peck her cheek. "Okay?"

"Forget about it." Wanda forced a smile, kissing him. Vision smiled, enjoying the closure of the subject much more than she did since the one who had to deal with the free hatred was not him. The boy pulled away a little to take a breath before deepening the kiss, but a sheet of paper was placed between their faces and caused them both to jump away.

"No more making out my sister." It was Pietro, shoving the test in their faces. He wasn't alone, Clint Barton was with him, and he was the first to greet Vision. Pietro leaned on the railing behind where they were standing, "How did you go in the Geography assignment?"

Clint greeted Wanda with a kiss on the cheek, and Vision answered the older twin with a proud smile, "I got an A+."

"Typical." Pietro retorted chuckling. "What about you, sestra?"

Wanda sighs, gripping the handle of her backpack tighter as if the crumpled test at the bottom was going to jump out and give away her lie. "Hmm, I got a C minus."

The trio made sounds of trouble, and Wanda rolled her eyes. Pietro gave a little chuckle. "Papa will be so disappointed..." He teased, receiving an impatient sigh in return.

"What about you? Did you get an A?" She inquired. Pietro chuckled.

"No, but I'm an athlete." He reasoned. "I don't need the brains when I have the muscles." The boys thought it was funny but Wanda rolled her eyes at the foolishness.

"Okay, Pietro, keep believing that one."

"Better than having neither..." He teased low, and Clint pulled him out of the range when Wanda threatened to push him into the railing. Vision laughed, holding his girlfriend by the waist.

"We're going to Barton, see you later?" Vision announces, and she takes her attention from her brother who walked a few feet with Clint to the boy in front of her.

"I thought you were going over to my place."

Vision shrugs. "I went to your house yesterday, Wanda. And the day before, and before, and before..."

"I get it." She cuts in with a clumsy laugh. She kisses him quickly. "Call me later?"

He smiles, nodding before kissing her intensely. Pietro gets in the way again, asking him to hurry up. Vision leaves with the boys, and Wanda stands at the school entrance, alone for a few minutes even after they have turned the corner.

Novi Grad, Monday, 8:00 pm.

"Don't forget to feed little Chaos, that stinky cat." 

Wanda smiled at her father's message, typing that she had already done so before turning her face to the other side of the bed, where an orange cat was sleeping heavily. She reached out, and scratched him behind the ears, receiving a purr in return.

"Papa is being mean, you smell good, Chaos." She says to the kitten, who doesn't wake up. Then sounds of door and keys ring out in the apartment, and Wanda leaves her cell phone on the mattress before getting up and leaving the bedroom.

Pietro is dropping off his shoes in the doorway. "Hey, good evening. Is Papa home yet?"

She denies it, hands in her sweatshirt pockets. "Double shift. Were you at Barton until now?"

The boy chuckled shortly, letting his jacket hang down and turning his back to go to the kitchen. "Ne (no), I left hours ago."

Wanda frowned, the image of Vision chatting messages and unanswered calls in her head. "Vis left too? I tried calling him..."

"I don't babysit your boyfriend, Wanda." Pietro cuts her off from the refrigerator door, and she swallows dryly ready to leave the kitchen. He regrets his aggressiveness and sighs. "I left early because Crystal wanted to talk. Or rather, fight. I'm sorry for taking it out on you."

Wanda shakes her head. "No problem. Are you guys okay?"

Pietro takes out the dinner saved for him to heat up in the microwave, shrugging. "She dumped me for the ninth time, but she didn't throw anything at me this time so I'd say that was progress."

Wanda sighs. "What was the problem now?"

He chuckles, rolling his eyes. "I don't know, she saw me talking to the new girl at school and thought I was being too nice. She's as hot as she is crazy."

"Don't be sexist Pietro, it doesn't make you any cooler." Wanda retorts turning her back on him, and the twin rolls his eyes again, focusing on dinner.

Wanda returns to her room, and Chaos is stretching out on her bed. He's lying on top of her cell phone now, and she has to push him slightly to get the device. She tries to call, but Vision doesn't answer like all the other times.

Before she can go back to watching the paused video classes on her laptop, there is someone on her porch.

Wanda rushes over to help her boyfriend get inside.

"Weird, it seems to have gotten harder to do that." He comments on the small tear in his jeans made by the railing and Wanda laughs lightly.

"Maybe you just need to exercise more." She teases, making him chuckle. He kisses her, pushing his way inside, but Wanda pulls away with the excuse that she is helping him take off his backpack and jacket. When he sits down on the bed to pet Chaos before kicking the cat out of the room, Wanda asks. "Where were you?"

Vision begins removing his shoes. "At Barton's."

"Until so late?"

The boy lets out a confused laugh, raising an eyebrow at her. "You know his mother is never home to care. Pretty much like your daddy..."

"I tried calling you." She insists. 

He sighs wearily. "My cell phone died."

"Clint didn't have a charger?"

Vision laughs. "No, Wanda, he couldn't find it or whatever. What's this, huh? Some kind of interrogation?"

She swallows dryly, looking away, "No, I just... I was worried."

"Well, don't be, I'm right here." He retorts with a smile. "And you, well, you're quite far away..."

She laughs shortly, moving closer to sit on his lap. He is the one who initiates the kiss, and she cuts him off when she is starting to get out of breath. "Let me get the door." She gasps as she gets up, and Vision just nods.

But when Wanda returns, he notices the study items next to the laptop on the bed, and there is a test with a red note in his hands, and a little smile on his face. "I thought you said you got a C minus, Miss."

Wanda snatched the paper from his hand with rosy cheeks to the red F who seemed to mock her as much as her boyfriend. "Shut up." She says, and he gives up tormenting her when she kisses him again.

Novi Grad, Wednesday, 9:30 am.

"Hey, Wanda." 

The greeting comes accompanied by a tap on the shoulder because the brunette is wearing headphones. Wanda pulls out both items at once, looking at her colleague, Darcy Lewis, with curiosity.

"Hi, Darcy, good morning."

The one with glasses smiles. "Are you going to the welcome party on Friday? You didn't confirm the invitation on Facebook, and Jane is being a bit uptight about the organization. She and Thor are taking care of the drinks." Wanda superficially recognized the names mentioned, they were popular people at school, but they were not her friends. She looked at the book - Dracula - in her lap for a second before turning back to Darcy.

"I don't know, I'll probably..."

"What, be reading on a Friday night?" The girl interrupts with teasing, but not mean smile. "You know, I have nothing against interesting habits, but the welcome party is the first opportunity to meet new friends at the very beginning of the year. This, and also to show the spirit of solidarity with the new freshmen who will fund our graduation. It’s important they know who you are, even if you have chosen to adopt the position of the emo geek of this school. Right?”

Wanda hesitates, half unsure of what to say about the whole thing. Before she can think how to respond, Jane - who was addressing other tables in the study area - approaches Darcy.

"Can you believe Thor told me that Loki just texted that he's taking some friends? What part of Students only did he not understand? The principal won't be happy to hear that they had strangers at the party." Jane blurts out angrily, offering a forced smile of greeting to Wanda before returning to typing on her cell phone. Darcy clears her throat.

"The end of the world really." Murmurs the one with the glasses. "See you Friday, Maximoff?"

"I think so." Wanda retorts, and Darcy smiles, offering her a wink before leaving with her friend.

Wanda doesn't have much time to get back to reading in peace. The class bell soon rings, and she has to collect her unfinished book to get to the next class.

Novi Grad, Wednesday, 5:41 pm.

Watching Vision play soccer with his friends is never fun, but Wanda doesn't complain anyway.

She busies herself with her book, finding it definitely more interesting than watching the boys, and it is only at the first break that Vision interrupts her.

She complains about the kiss because he is sweaty.

"You look pretty when you're focused, you know that?" he compliments, hands resting at her side. She twitches her nose.

"Am I not pretty at other times?"

He chuckles. "Don't be silly, being pretty is your greatest talent." He retorts, and she forces a smile, trying not to look bothered by the phrase. He doesn't notice, moving away to get a bottle of water. 

The soccer field is not empty, but Wanda doesn't know the kids there besides Clint, and her twin obviously. She has seen some of them, but they were Vis's friends and not hers. So she has a big empty space around her in the stands.

Stealing glances at the surrounding groups of friends and couples, Wanda sighs before turning her gaze back to her boyfriend.

"Vis, will you go with me to the school welcome party?"

He makes a confused face, finishing a large sip of water before retorting, "That cheesy thing? Why do you even want to go to that, we've never attended it before."

She frowns softly. "It's not cheesy. It's important that the freshmen get to know us now, they are responsible for over half of the fundraising for the graduation trip-"

"Didn't your father say he was going to pay for yours?" He interrupts her with a raised eyebrow. 

Wanda sighs. "Yes, but I'm not going to think only of myself-"

"I have money too." He cuts in again shrugging. "Clint works, Pietro is your brother so he's insured too. You don't have to care about a dumb party full of brats, Wanda." He mocks with a chuckle, leaning in to kiss her, but Wanda turns her face away. Vis doesn't notice, distracted by the boys rushing him to get back to playing, and Wanda sighs at the thought that he almost never notices anything that bothers her. 

"I just think it would be nice to meet new people." She murmurs, and he sighs, looking down at the field and nodding that he's going already.

"Well, I guess we could drop in for a few hours, free booze is a nice thing..." He suggests, and her face immediately lights up. Vis extends a hand to her strands of hair. "But you have to do something for me."

She frowns. "What?" 

"Can my brother spend Easter with us?"

Wanda's excited expression drops. "Seriously? Can I bring mine?" She retorts wryly and angrily, closing the book. Vision sighs helplessly.

"Baby, come on..." She rolls her eyes, starting to put things away. "Hey, I know I said I didn't want anyone bothering us, but Dad grounded Tony and I don't want to leave him alone for the whole holiday..."

"If Tony would stop screwing up he wouldn't be grounded." Wanda retorts now standing up, with her backpack in her hands. Vision chuckles, making puppy dog eyes at her. 

"Please, darling. A party for a party." He negotiates, and she rolls her eyes.

"Okay, fine." She agrees, and he grins, grabbing her by the waist to spin her in the air despite her protests. With the delay, Clint approaches them, just as sweaty as his friend.

"Come on man, you two can hook up after the game." Says the boy, busy with the water as Vision lets go of Wanda with little grace, who pulls down the hem of her skirt with her cheeks slightly flushed with embarrassment. 

"I'm celebrating, Wanda has agreed to let Tony spend Easter at her family Cabin." Vision tells. Wanda wryly chuckles:

"Maybe you'd like to come too, it seems the holiday for two has turned into a holiday for everyone." 

Clint chuckles, wiping his mouth before commenting, "How did he convince you, Maximoff?"

She sighs. "He's taking me to the welcoming party on Friday." She says, and Vision shrugs, but Clint frowns.

"Friday? Don't you have that fancy dinner with your dad and the uni people? You haven't shut up about it for months." Clint recalls and Vision puts his hand to his head. 

"Oh, shit, it's true. Baby, I completely forgot..."

"Whatever." She says wearily with her hands in the air lightly. "See you tomorrow, Clint." He said leaving, and Vision patted the back of his friend's head before following his girlfriend.

Novi Grad, Friday, 07:12 pm.

"I'm already at the restaurant, good thing I wore a suit. Try to go to the party, it will be good for you." 

Wanda reread the message for the ninth time, trying to understand what in the last sentence bothered her so much. She sighed, looking at the little Chaos adjusting himself on her bed.

"What do you think, buddy? Do you think I should go to a stupid party?" She asks the cat, who doesn't even meow back. 

Wanda risks checking Instagram, only to be bombarded with pictures in her feed about the school party, which grew in popularity apparently because Loki wasn't the only one who took other than students.

She glanced around her messy room, and at the paused sitcom on her laptop. The Addams Family was not being efficient in distracting her tonight. Vision was at a dinner party with her father's contacts from Europe's top universities, Pietro was sleeping over at Crystal's because they got back together the day before, and Clint was supposed to be working. And there were no other friends.

Wanda forced herself to her feet. She could do this. New friends at a party, right? It shouldn't be that hard.

She got ready in record time and changed from her comfortable sweatshirt into a wine-colored cotton dress. Maybe it didn't scream friendly energy, but it definitely made her look pretty. 

Chaos meowed at her when she stood in front of the mirror, and Wanda thought she was good to go. She texted to Vision that she was going to have fun knowing he wasn't going to answer tonight before she left.

Novi Grad, Friday, 08:40 pm.

Music from the loudspeakers echoed throughout the room. The welcoming committee did a good job, because they had booked the whole night at the Panther Club, two blocks away from the school, and the place was completely full.

Wanda managed to get in at the ticket booth with her school ID and was given a different wristband for being of legal age. She imagined that this would guarantee alcoholic drinks for her inside the bar, but she doubted very much that anyone was respecting these rules of the amount of drunk freshmen around.

She was trying to have a good time. She didn't rely too much on the colorful drink that the bartender said was alcohol-free and decided to enjoy the Club's trademark live music show.

It wasn't exactly her idea of fun, being around hundreds of drunken teenagers, but Wanda tried to ignore the discomfort of her own boots to dance a little. 

It was not a good idea.

She returned to the bar area after three songs way too long for the good health of her toes and was considering leaving when she recognized the red-haired figure only a few feet away.

Jean was waiting for her drink, and saw Wanda out of the corner of her eye, assuming a defensive posture.

"Hi." Wanda greeted, receiving only an icy stare in return before the redhead looked forward again. Wanda sighed, "Jean, please. You can't ignore me forever."

"Not forever, it's already senior year." She retorts coldly, turning her body toward Wanda, one arm resting on the counter. The brunette swallows dryly, but the redhead smiles wickedly, the other hand reaching out to push the strands of brown hair behind the smaller girl's shoulder. "What do you want from me, Maximoff? A chance to stab my back, too?"

Wanda tenses her jaw, her eyes burning. "Please don't be like this." She pleads and takes on courage. "I miss you, you know. And Eve... Please just say something."

Jean licks her lips and tucks a strand of hair behind Wanda's ear before lowering her hands. She looks her in the eyes.

"Next time, try to use less eyeliner. You're looking like a slut." She declares, turning away before Wanda can really process what was said to her.

She feels her throat tighten with the urge to start crying and takes a deep breath. And then she feels a presence behind her.

"Very nice friend you have." Ironizes an unknown voice. Wanda turns around and is surprised by a slightly familiar face. 

You smile and stare back at her. "Did you know that girls who call others girls sluts are statically more likely to get chlamydia?"

Wanda frowns slightly. "Really?"

You grin "No, but it would be fun karma." You say, and it is her turn to chuckle. You then extend your hand to her. "I'm Y/N, we're in the same Literature class."

"Oh, that's right. The new girl." Wanda murmurs finally realizing where she recognizes the face from. "I'm Wanda."

"I know." You retort biting back a smile and when she blinks curiously, you half-heartedly clarify, "Your brother, Pietro, right? He's been very considerate of the new students, even the ones who aren't freshmen. He pointed you out in the courtyard once."

Wanda nods, a little out of frame. She wasn't very good at socializing, especially with those she thought were kind of attractive.

You noticed her distance and cleared your throat. "Just for the record, Wanda, and well, I'm no makeup expert but..." You extended your hand again, this time to her face, wiping with the tip of your finger a bit of eyeliner smeared by the tear she let fall. "I wouldn't say you look slutly, I'd say you look quite beautiful."

You compliment, and Wanda feels a shiver spread through her body. So surprised by her own reaction, she can barely smile back when you do so in farewell, leaving the bar.

She decides to run to the bathroom and check her makeup even though her legs are still shaking a little.

The sound of the party is muffled inside, and Wanda sighs as she sees her own reflection. She wants to believe what you said, but since Jean treated her like that, it's been a little difficult. 

With a wet piece of paper, she carefully removes the eyeliner, and just as she is finishing, she hears a soft cry coming from one of the booths.

Worried, Wanda throws the paper in the trash and follows the sound. "Hello?" she needs to call out another two times for the girl to sniffle and answer.

"Hey."

"Sorry to bother you, but are you okay?" It's kind of a silly question to ask someone who is crying in the bathroom, but it's the best that Wanda handles. And the girl seems to enjoy the kindness.

"Yeah, just... it's stupid." She replies in a small voice.

"Can you open the door for me for a minute?" There is a pause, but the keyhole unlocks and the girl pushes the door slightly. Wanda offers her an understanding expression and pulls her by the hand. "Come, I can help with the smudged makeup." The girl agrees to be led out of the booth, to the sinks. "I'm Wanda, by the way."

"I know, your brother is pretty popular." Mumbles the other one sniffling softly. Wanda smiles, "I'm Yelena. Can you call someone for me? The team captain?"

"Oh, sure." Wanda assures, kind of getting the impression that the girl is kicking her out, kind of uncomfortable with the attention.

She leaves Yelena and heads back to the party, spending a good ten minutes asking about this team captain to the people around - most of them too drunk to know - until finally one of the third-year girls points to a tall boy at the back of the club. "The only captain I know is Steve Rogers, sweetie. That pretty boy over there."

Wanda approached him in a circle of people, it was as uncomfortable as she expected. Steve, at least, seemed like a nice guy and followed her with some concern about that girl crying in the bathroom.

But when Wanda returned, Yelena was not alone. Another blonde girl was finishing helping her with her make-up.

"[...] you and Kate need to stop this push and pull, that's what I think." Advised the stranger. Yelena sighed.

"She left me crying in a bathroom, I'll never speak to her again."

"Come on Yelena..."

"Sorry." Wanda interrupts the interaction with Steve trailing behind her. "I brought your friend, Yelena. The team captain."

The two look at her as if she is crazy. Yelena points to the other, "This is my friend. Carol Danvers, captain of the basketball team."

Steve nods. "What's up, Carol?" he greeted her with a smile half confused by the whole thing. 

"Oh, I didn't know we had more than one...team." Wanda mumbles clumsily, and Yelena sighs half impatiently.

"Look, thanks anyway, it's the thought that counts. But we were in the middle of a conversation here..."

"God, you're so rude when you're mad at Kate." Carol complains. "Come on, Natasha was looking for you. Thanks again, sweetie." The blonde pulls her friend out of the bathroom, and Wanda decides she has had enough for the night.

She makes her way out of the bar, but on the street, she realizes that Steve Rogers has followed her the whole way.

"Hey, sorry, are you Jarvis Stark's girlfriend?" He asks and she takes her time assimilating her boyfriend's real name instead of the nickname everyone has used since elementary school. 

"Yeah, why?"

Steve smiles awkwardly. "Any chance you have his brother's number?"

Wanda has a good few seconds of pure surprise before muttering that she really wasn't talking to Tony. The blond gets a little disappointed but forces a smile. 

"Sorry, see you at school." She babbles, honestly tired from this night.

So this was really fun. 👀 A couple of highlights for and thoughts from me:

Oh my god, these stupid vampires in my domain have no idea how good they have it with me just asking for money when I could simply hunt them for sport instead and get rid of the problem. Call me a capitalist bunny all you want (yes, my symbol is a rabbit), you dumbasses are LUCKY! I hope there will be some sort of way to lay down the law because again, these idiots are attracting too much attention and I can't believe Erin or whoever didn't come to talk to me just yet (beyond that moment at the club with Erin trying to influence MC but MC shrugged it off like a boss). Their talks of revolution and influence and peace so far read like lip service. Fucking faux-anarchists

I play as a teenage parent with a child, and I can just imagine Minjo looking at this baby-faced young parent and going "Poor thing". I didn't even realize she was an RO until the swimming class and while I am set on Illya, I am so excited to befriend her. Also hoping she will be able to put a good word in with the werewolves because...

I play on brewing Blackwell's crap for Gaius. For which I need werewolf blood but hey, no one said I have to take it by force! Praying like hell I will be able to reach an accord with the pack to get their blood to keep Gaius happy and under control

Speaking of Gaius, I chose to learn Latin and I was able to understand them. But considering Latin is the base language for many Romance languages like Italian (which is said to be the closest to Latin), French (the furthest) and Spanish (the middle), could it be possible for MC who speaks any of those languages to be able to decipher SOME of what's said between Gaius and his henchman whose name I just forgot (Lucian? Lucius?)?

Now, speaking of languages, could MC be a native speaker to a non-English language themselves? Could be interesting and leave up room to learn another language

I am gonna kill that fucking hunter the second I get my hands on him, simply because he knows about MC's child and I refuse to allow him to have a bargaining chip over me

I love this. 💙

Just quickly: I'm sorry but I'm not planning on programming any more language options into the game. I'm sorry about that.

I am really glad you're enjoying the story. You will have other opportunities to talk to the fledglings, attack the hunter, and befriend Minjo. 💙

Thoughts about Porky?

my thoughts on porky are such a vast tangled web of forever spaghetti that i'm not even sure where to begin or what to pin down. the premise of a tormented child ascending to near-godhood out of sheer misanthropic spite towards the whole wide world makes my brain do backflips like a sea world dolphin. i'll ramble a bit about him.

he's ness' foil. just two chubby kids who probably grew up with their (un)fair share of bullying. the only thing distinguishing them was the familial abuse porky suffered, which he inevitably regurgitated. then destiny comes along, choosing ness over porky, and the jealousy just eats porky alive. watching his bestie accumulate friends and accolades, unable to accept it's his own rotten behavior that's driven a wedge between them. gotta imagine the burden of cutting porky off was almost unbearable for ness. somethin' that keeps him up at night, wondering if he'd just been a little kinder, or sterner, or more understanding - maybe he could've saved his old friend? not quite yet realizing it was Not At All his responsibility to "fix" someone who'd dug his grave and laid in it. porky's the kinda bad guy you love to hate, but considering his upbringing, you hesitate to blame the poor schmuck. all he knows is authority and manipulation. if you gave any ornery ostracized thirteen year old unlimited power - instead of empathy and guidance - they'd probably go down the path of vengeance, too.

he's lucas' foil. both of 'em were given plenty of reasons to hate the world. when faced with an unhappy childhood, do you choose love anyways, and move forward? or do you let it become your villain origin story? porky refuses to grow up, to such an extreme degree, that he's gotta drag everybody down into neverland with him. thinks he's got human nature all figured out, when really - kid dropped out in eighth grade - his expertise starts at the middle school lunch table and ends at Lord of the Flies. where lucas seeks to bring about a brighter future, porky's terminally obsessed with the past. barfs up the same old hierarchical capitalist bullshit he grew up with. hoards memorabilia. makes monuments to his warped nostalgia, as if anyone on the nowhere islands knows or cares. even tries to mold lucas into a makeshift ness - one last final battle, one last chance for destiny to stop me, here, take this baseball bat, come get me, let's play. but it doesn't worrrrk, because the gilded past he aches for is long buried, and these people aren't actors in his self-aggrandizing biopic. where lucas wakes up and says, "i don't have to be the same coward i was yesterday," porky says, "me? change? not a chance in hell." even if it costs him everything. porky's real worst nightmare is a world that moves on without him. once he's trapped in his time capsule, that's exactly what he's got in store.

i think he's the sunk cost fallacy incarnate. the sheer momentum of a thousand horrible decisions he can never turn back on. earthbound porky might get a little bit of slack, sure. but given a bazillion years worth of opportunities to change, mother 3 porky actively chose to get worse. what fucks me up most is how real he is. can't call a villain like this "insane", or even terribly exaggerated, when i'm lookin' out the window these days at billionaires, covid deniers, fuckin' terfs and maga hats. some people really would sooner die, or become all-consuming monsters, than admit they were wrong. it's all or nothing. in his eyes, either he's a visionary hero, or everything he's ever done was irredeemably reprehensible - and all the torment and criticism and loneliness he endured was therefore deserved. he can't bear the weight of it, so he simply doesn't. that's what underpins his character, to me. like. the moment he'd admit fault, or apologize, or express an ounce of regret? he'd cease to be porky. denying himself the human capacity to grow, forever, just to spare his fragile ego. could almost pity him. almost.

a perfect villain for both of the stories he terrorizes, and my favorite villain in anything ever. when itoi said "porky is truly a poem in himself" he wasn't kidding.

Fatal flaws of spirit keeping and spirit companionship that are on my mind tonight:

-Trying to make a living off of a practice that is very finite in terms of how far a client base can reasonably go

-Lack of client vetting leading to poor feedback on the hired practitioner's work

-How capitalistic it really ends up being and what that means for quality of work

-The devastating lack of education outside social media, spirit keeping communities and new age horse shite as a whole for most of the individuals in this community

-Piss poor spiritual engagement with their practices and the spirits

-Failure to use scientific methods to discern legitimacy of a supposed conjure. (Example: getting consistent signs and readings)

-The drama and mind breaking lack of maturity. I mean, it really is amazing that grown humans in their twenties think it's healthy and okay to behave like backstabbing, gossiping little middle schoolers. The amount of pettiness and grudge holding in this group of people is a large part of how good people have been run out of here.

This is obviously just me, a mere bird, screaming into the void. However, I believe that addressing these issues and creating a dialogue are the only ways to start breaking down the issues and making lasting changes.

End Of The Line

Summary: After your train breaks down and you’re forced to take refuge in a tree to escape from Charles, you have an unexpected heart-to-heart that may just save your life.

(Takes place during the events of Choo-Choo Charles, so there will be spoilers!)

Also available to read on A03!

Enjoy!

Archivists were—by nature—curious. You had to be if you were to assemble, catalogue and preserve highly valuable collections of historical information for a living. And when your old friend Eugene had called to invite you to a desolate island for a spot of ‘monster hunting’ , of course you were going to let your curiosity get the better of you.

But as they say: curiosity killed the cat.

Well, death hadn’t claimed you quite yet. But it was damn close.

Adjusting yourself on a tree branch you had barely managed to scramble up to, you glanced down at the poor, broken down train you had grown abnormally attached to; probably because it had kept you alive on this God forsaken island for so long—not to mention the sick purple paintjob you had bestowed upon it. Eugene would have killed you if he’d seen the sorry state the poor thing was in now.

Unfortunately, like your old pal, the train had just taken one hit too many and had reached the end of the line. Luckily for you, it had slowed to a stop near the thicket instead of out in the open plains; giving you one last chance to fight for survival.

Not literally; for how was one supposed to fight a goddamn demon spawn spider train from the fiery depths of Hell?

Instead, here you were, up a tree, in the middle of nowhere, while your doom prowled below as he patiently waited for you to give yourself up to his awaiting jaws.

But what Charles didn’t know is that you were unwaveringly patient too, and that you were simply going to wait up here until he eventually went away and use whatever metal scrap you had to fix up your train and continue on your way towards the temple with the eggs and commence the battle of the ages, liberate the island and save your museum from going under.

And get revenge for Eugene.

You glared down at the grotesque creature as he attempted once again to climb up the tree to get to you; the brush was too thick for him to break through, and the bark was slick with rain, making it an impossible climb for such a hefty beast.

He had nearly succeeded in claiming your life when he opted for brute strength instead and rammed himself into the thick trunk to bring the whole tree down—thank God its gangly roots seemed to cling firmly into the ground, steadfast in staying upright—it reminded you of the houses of Aranearum; perhaps the residents had built them from this very same wood.

Charles’s last resort was to attempt to shake you out of the tree by placing four of his limbs as far up into the branches as he could reach and whacking them with all his might. It was almost amusing to watch, like a cat that was frustrated that it couldn’t quite reach the bird it was hunting. You only hoped Charles wouldn’t try leaping up into the air and snatching you up with his claws, shoving you into his grinning maw and never to be seen or heard from again.

You shook your head to rid yourself of such morbid thoughts. No, you weren’t going to die here today, not to that... monstrosity .

Not when you had a promise to keep.

Paul had grown so much since you had last seen him; nearly knee-high he was! So much time had flown by since then. You had to wonder why Eugene had decided to move to this derelict island in the first place. His reason being to get away from the stresses of the capitalistic society that they had grown up in and raise his son in an idyllic nature setting so that they may live a nice, peaceful life singing Kumbaya or whatever.

And look where that got him.

Sighing, you looked up at the grey overcast sky as thunder rumbled softly in the distance. You couldn’t bring yourself to tell Paul that his father was dead, he had just assumed that the old man had decided to stay on the mainland instead of coming back to fight Charles, and you had went along with it, promising yourself, and Eugene, that you would be the bearer of bad news later, when all this Charles nonsense had died down. Only...perhaps it was you who was going to be the one dying soon, judging by how irate the demon spider train was becoming.

Pfft... ’demon spider train’ ...it still sounded so hilariously made up. Like one of those funny pictures that the kids these days like to mash together and post online. What were they called? Mee-mee's? Something like that.

You were beginning to think that maybe once you died, your old colleagues would rearrange what was left of your mangled corpse, stuff you and put you next to the dinosaur exhibit, because you certainly felt like one.

A disgruntled snarl suddenly caught your attention as Charles bared his fangs while he stared up at you with those glazed over white orbs of his; unseeing and yet seemed to bore straight into your soul. This was the first time you could just properly stare back at him since you weren’t frantically running for your life or aiming poorly at him with those ridiculously large guns the island’s residents kept gifting you with.

And boy, he was...and you hated to use this term given the terrible ordeal he had put you through, but he was magnificent .

Ugly? Sure. Malevolent? Absolutely. But the researcher in you couldn’t help but admire—and question—the physiology of Charles. Was he really part train, part spider? Or perhaps he simply used the train as a shell like a crustacean? Would he shed that shell once he grew too big for it and use another?  

Would he use your train?

As if the creature were reading your mind, Charles eventually grew bored of staring menacingly at you and turned his back on you to saunter over to your smoking companion. He gave it a light smack with one of his legs and paused for a moment to glance over his shoulder, as if waiting for your reaction.

Was he...was he testing you?

It seemed that he was, as he hit it with a lot more force this time, making you flinch. That train was the only thing that was going to keep you alive while Charles was still on this island. You intended to fix it as soon as he lost interest but that was going to be nigh impossible if the bloody thing ended up getting completely pulverised.

“H-hey...!” You called out weakly, though it was enough to grab Charles’s attention. “You...you stop that now!”

The unimpressed look the demon gave you was enough to put you to shame. And unsurprisingly it gave him an incentive to keep going, his grin growing larger and more brazen with each whack, stab and slam as if to say,"What are you gonna do about it, huh? Come on down here, I dare you.”  

You almost did, if only to protect your trains’ honour.

But there was bravery and there was stupidity; and you had neither trait. So, you opted instead to grab a few pine-cones and throw them down at him. It did nothing but you swore you heard a couple of exasperated grunts as Charles glared up at you with murderous intent once more.

Now it was your turn to grin.

That seemed to really do it as a well-placed body slam nearly sent you tumbling to the ground. Grabbing onto the trunk for dear life, it wasn’t until the tree had ceased shaking that you noticed the bag that you had hung on a nearby branch—since it was getting heavy for your poor old shoulders— was sliding down.

‘Shitshitshit...!’  

Reflexes that you didn’t even know you still had suddenly kicked in as you just about caught the handle by sticking out your foot. The strain was a bit much on your ankle, but you still managed to pull the bag up. The flap was open, letting out a slither of bright neon colours that seemed to slice through the dullness like a dazzling rainbow, and nearly send Charles into a frenzy.

The sole reason the two of you were even here in the first place; the eggs.

Charles’s eggs, to be more specific.

You closed the flap and looked off into the distance towards the temple. You were so close, and yet oh so far.

A low growl earned your attention back down to Charles as he circled the tree once, twice, three times before finally settling down, tucking his legs underneath his body; almost akin to a cat. You couldn’t help but notice how mellow he had promptly become. There were no tantrums, no throwing his body-weight around and no malicious taunting. He was just...sitting there, looking so sullen. Was he worried about the eggs?

You nearly smacked yourself. Were you honestly feeling sympathy for a literal spawn of Hell that had been terrorising, killing and eating people for God knows how long? Were you really that out of touch these days?

Sure, you preferred spending time in the company of the exhibits at the museum rather than your colleagues, but this was ridiculous. Charles was an evil, monstrous... thing that needed to be exterminated. Wiped off the face of the planet. That was what Eugene had said. As well as every other resident on the island. Even the crazy ones. Therefore, it was the right thing to do. For everyone’s sake. For the world, even.

So... why was that tiny spark of hesitation still there?

Now, you didn’t claim yourself to be an expert on spiders but if any came into the museum, you had always been curious enough to check them out. Wolf spiders had been a particular fascination of yours. Hideous little things, and an incredible predator to boot. Swift and lethal; hunting anything that so much as twitched. However, when it came to parenting, they really did take care of their kids, and then some. The mothers would carry their babies on their backs for weeks—feeding them, protecting them, in rare cases even giving up their own life for them.

You glanced down at your bag. The eggs emanated not only in colour, but in warmth too; you almost wanted to hug them like a hot water bottle. But judging by the soft growl that reverberated from below, you didn’t dare.

“Oh hush,” you blurted out. “I’m not going to hurt them.”

Well, that was a lie. You were on your way to place the eggs on a pedestal in a temple in order to turn their life force into some sort of light beam that Charles would end up absorbing to initiate a fight to the death so that you could lure him to a bridge full of explosives where he would get blown to bits.

...Why did you let Eugene convince you to come here again?

Charles let out a disgruntled huff.

“I don’t see what you’re so miffed about,” you said. “I could be at home right now. Sitting in my favourite chair with some nice hot tea in my favourite mug while my kids natter on about what they’ve been up to during their day—I don’t have any favourites there, mind you. I know a lot of parents do but I am all about equality.”

That was definitely a lie. Lily had always been your favourite.

You realised then that you had probably been stuck here for about a week now. No doubt your colleagues had probably phoned your partner to ask when you were coming back to work. You had mentioned the trip once or twice but promised it would only take three days at the most. Everyone was probably so worried...

You clutched the eggs a little tighter.  

“Where’s your partner?” You suddenly found yourself asking, feeling as shocked as Charles looked at the unexpected question. Did he even have a mate? You only assumed since spiders couldn’t procreate independently. Then again Charles wasn’t an ordinary spider.

You reminded yourself to look up therapy if you ever managed to return home.

No. When.  

As if to answer, Charles let out a short, sharp snarl. Nothing nasty. Just a little blunt.

Did...did he really understand you? Or was he just toying with his prey? Lulling you into a false sense of security perhaps? You couldn’t quite tell.

Either way you were grateful to have your first actual two-way conversation since you had arrived on the island. Even if it was with a bloodthirsty monster who probably wanted to decorate some massive spider web with your intestines.

The grotesque thought didn’t deter you. Not one bit.

You talked about anything that came to mind: your family, your job, favourite foods, places that you wanted to visit, horoscopes, the concept that nothing is real and everything is a simulation run by either aliens or the government. Eventually topics turned a bit more mundane, like the weather.

Which...you noticed was starting to pick up quite a bit. The wind was whistling louder, and the rain grew heavier; looking up, you could see why.  

The clouds gathered with molten silver and bright whites that swirled in steady and radiating ripples. You loved the sky before a storm; the atmosphere was subtly electric, alive in excitement for what was to come. Nearby screeches came in the form of tossed gulls, flashes of white in the grey, tumbling as they struggled against the gale. Looking ahead, you could see the ocean rising in great mountains; anger in the form of water, turbulent and unforgiving.

You didn’t even hear Charles stirring before he made another attempt at climbing the tree. You recoiled back at his newfound determination and almost followed your instincts as they screamed at you to escape through any means necessary, whether it was climbing further up the tree or jumping down to the ground; both options were probably suicide, but anything was better than becoming dinner right now.

Though...you noticed Charles’s expression was less bloodthirsty and more...concerned. Worried even.

Not for you, but for the eggs.

His children.

You recognised that look immediately. It was one you wore constantly when your children were little. When they got lost in the grocery store when you turned away for literally one second. When they fell and scraped their knees. When you let them go to school for the first time on their own.

Fear. It was a constant companion for parents worldwide.  

Even demon spider trains that came from the fiery depths of Hell.

And it was probably for that reason that you curled your body around those eggs when the lightning struck and ripped apart the only platform that was keeping death at bay. Funnily enough, you weren’t frightened of what was to come; if the fall didn’t kill you then Charles certainly would. Instead, you tried to think of yourself as falling back into a soft seasoned bed of autumn leaves, breathing in the aroma of the earth and watching the free-form clouds before everything went black.

Fortunately—or perhaps unfortunately—you only fainted momentarily. You woke up to the skies starting to clear and the rain only a light drizzle. With a pained groan, you managed to lift your chin for a brief few seconds to see your bag—with the eggs inside—still intact. However, you also noticed the branch you had been perching on was now on top of your legs, trapping them completely.

With a defeated sigh, you leaned your head back against the cool, damp soil and contemplated your options—or lack thereof.

The brief illusion of choice dissipated completely when that all-too-familiar grinning face came into your field of vision.

“Well,” you breathed. “Ya got me.”

You didn’t say anything else as nothing prominent came to mind. You had never really been the poetic type. You didn’t even bother asking him to make it quick because you knew he wouldn’t. In fact, he would probably eat you slower just to spite you.  

The spider lifted the branches that were trapping you with relative ease, tossing them aside with a grunt before turning back to you. Screwing your eyes shut, the only comfort that came to mind was that at least you would be reunited with your old pal soon. The afterlife wasn’t something you paid any mind to—you would even call it nonsense— but Eugene had been an avid believer in it. You hoped it was real, you honestly did, as it was the only thing that would get you through the pain that was to come.

A pathetic whimper escaped your throat as you felt what you assumed were Charles’s pedipalps (the two front legs that spiders used to sense their surroundings—and...food). The touches were feather-like and danced across your chest as if the demon was trying to pin-point exactly where he would rip you apart. Teasing you right up until the end, you almost admired his tenacity.

You waited.

And waited.

…

Okay, this was ridiculous.

You cracked open an eye and almost demanded to know what was taking so damn long when you noticed that Charles had taken the strap of your bag between two pincers and slowly—almost delicately—eased the bag over your head before stepping away and peering inside. Satisfied that the eggs were safe, he turned back to you.

Well of course he wasn’t going to stab you before, you were still clutching onto his kids after all. There was a brief pang of pride in your chest at having managed to protect all three of them from the impact of the fall.

But now that you didn’t have them, there was no doubt that Charles would...leave?

You blinked a few times to make sure you weren’t hallucinating, but sure enough he was turning tail and leaving for the open wilderness with your bag. That not only contained the eggs but all your other stuff too. Your metal scraps. Your lockpicks.

The temple key.

Great.  

Though slightly irked, you were still incredibly grateful, if not a little confused, to still be in the land of the living. Remarkably, your legs still worked too, they were bruised black and blue but there were no broken bones. You either had incredible luck or someone out there was looking out for you.

You still had that promise to fulfil, after all.

But now...you were torn.

Charles had granted you mercy this time, a rarity that nobody in the history of the island’s existence had ever seen. He was giving you an opportunity to leave and go home to your family while leaving his alone.

But doing so would leave the people here in danger, and—by extension—the world. When it came to everyone else, you didn’t particularly care, but since your own kids would be in potential danger...

So, you were probably going to have to go back to square one, get your bag back, along with the eggs, and go ahead with the original plan. You were disheartened at the thought of it, especially after seeing that Charles wasn’t some mindless evil monster but an animal—a highly vicious one, sure—that was just fighting like Hell to make sure he and his children survived in a world that had no place for them.

Who knew that you would have so much in common with a spider train, of all things. You almost scoffed at the thought. But one thing was for certain; you both valued family above all else.

And would do anything to protect it.  

xxx

merry crisis everyone, hope you enjoyed my silly little fic :)

The problem with any attempt by hollywood to make media which takes place in the universe of the hunger games is that it all runs the risk of undermining or completely misunderstanding the political messaging and critique the original book series presents. Because this isn’t an orwell novel which provides a generic critique of authoritarianism or even of fascism specifically. The hunger games novels are very specifically providing a critique of the united states and of the role that hollywood itself plays in maintaining power. The Hunger Games presents us with a society in which the very very rich throw up in order to eat more and a very very poor who are starving, in other words a capitalist economic system. It also presents us with the very rich being gaudy and ostentatious in their dress the way that we see rich hollywood elites dress when they attend awards shows, and it presents those people conducting a reality tv show style death match that those living in poverty send their kids to and if they win they receive economic security. Those from districts one and two, career districts which are closest to the capital but which the elites in the capitol still look down on represent the middle class who jump at the opportunity to send their children into that meat grinder in order to win fame and fortune but those from the outlying districts who represent the very poor know that it is a death sentence. The villain in the hunger games is the unequal economic structure and hollywood whose job it is to sell us on the american dream and keep us in line. Therefore any hollywood blockbuster attempting to emulate the book series in question is sort of doomed from the start. The original 4 movies could succeed so long as they stuck to the script the books layed out but any hollywood original script set in that universe, such as this one, is either forced to tone down it’s messaging in order to make it past the writing room and into filming and eventually onto the screen, or to lose sight of the original concept altogether to become a shameless cash grab. To its credit I think Ballad of Songbirds and Snakes falls into the former category of having toned it down, but ultimately it does become somewhat strange in places owing to hollywood's own inability to criticize itself too harshly

A lot of people have said it much better, but yes, all of these people have gone from "morally dubious" at best to absolutely horrible.

Ah-jung? She turned down being a beard for a gay man in an extremely homophobic and rightwing society. Which is fair and valid, because any passing chaebol pyscho could crush her broke ass like a bug. and yet, she chooses to be Do-han's fake wife, not because it's life and death for him, but to spite his evil goblin little brother.

Ji-han? A parasitic capitalist scum who uses and tosses away poor people just to appease his corporation and his even more soulless grandpa. That's bad, sure, but he also seeks to impose his vision of success and security onto his brother, when Do-han has made it clear how unhappy being the CEO would make him - he cares as little about Do-han's happiness as the rest of his psycho family. And that's a charitable interpretation... it's also likely Ji-han is unconsciously doing this so he can vicariously be the CEO through Do-han. And this isn't even touching all the ways he keeps screwing over Ah-jung but it's OK cause he's a hot kdrama chaebol ML.

Do-han? he's not as bad as the other two in this drama but using your broke ass, lower-middle class friend to save yourself when you can't really protect her when all the chaebol intrigue goes sideways... like come on, man. i also did not like how he treated his former boyfriend when the latter got assaulted, but it's not my place to say anything about that aspects of his characterization.

and these are just the main characters, y'all. the only somewhat wholesome ppl in this drama are Ah-jung's parents and those random farmers. that being said, I am enjoying this drama and will be watching it to the very end. if you want a positive spin on it, i guess u can say that there are very morally grey characters, which makes it more realistic?

I was watching the news about how LA banned homeless encampments near schools, as well as how Nevada was demolishing tiny homes made for the homeless based on a technicality about square footage allowed..and like. People demonize the homeless and try to make other people see them as immoral and criminal. While the US needs to handle its homeless problem like every other developed nation, with housing and the opportunity to get employed again once back on their feet, demonizing them under the pretense of "think of the poor children" is not going to help anyone. "But why do they deserve to get free help? We are all struggling and it's their own fault they're homeless." So many homeless were veterans and people that had one bad month or one bad disaster that any one of us could have gone through. And to say they aren't deserving of help when we DO have the capacity to do so....well, we are constantly lied to that it would cost too much and that the everyday taxpayer would suffer. It costs us more in taxes when the city builds hostile architecture, and when these people get very sick from being outside and are taken to emergency rooms. We fund and throw money into programs that don't do anything to help people *out* of homelessness, just temporarily slap a bandaid on it. And while that isn't nothing, it is not what the end goal should be. It is a lie that people end up homeless only due to laziness. It's a lie that the majority of homeless people are homeless from laziness. In America, it is so damn expensive to live, that 70% of Americans are one disaster away from living on the streets. Some of these people had to choose between their house and live-saving medical treatment. The way we treat them is disgusting, like untouchables and we pretend they aren't there except when it comes to putting them out of sight. I've known people who were working 9 to 5 jobs while living out of homeless shelters still. The wages weren't enough to get them any sort of rent. The median rent right now is $2,000 here. $15 minimum wage isn't going to cut it. We are being conned and lied to about not getting more pay than that. This is a capitalist hellscape, hostile to working-class (everyone who is not the 1%) human life. It shouldn't and does not have to be like this. Higher taxes for free healthcare would cost less than a monthly premium we would no longer have to pay, but we don't talk about that. We keep getting gaslit by politicians whose motives are not in our best interest. They are bought out [read: bribed] to keep the status quo and make the rich richer while ignoring our crumbling infrastructure, a predatory housing crisis, flagging wages, environmental crisis for the future of humanity, and healthcare. We fail at everything except profits, which get directly funneled to this vague "rich" class and hoarded. And more people will become homeless while the rest have a worse and worse quality of life. This is not sustainable. There are several things that could be done to fix these issues in a decade at most; I could narrow it down to 5 broad ones:

Raising the minimum wage -honestly one of the most effective ways to give the working class more spending money. Wages have not grown with the rest of the economy in decades. We work harder for less.

Capping Rent universally -can be adjusted for the cost of living in each city, but cannot exceed 30% of the minimum paycheck. ideally for at least 3 years. We also should not allow companies to buy up homes for sale in mass so they can rent them out eternally.

Universal Healthcare -take out the insurance company middle man. it is cheaper for everyone even for those that don't have health insurance (because we pay with higher taxes for high-risk people such as the homeless when they are taken in for dire situations.)

Education Reform -The American school system is deeply flawed. The curriculum has not been updated since the 60s. We fall far behind much of the world. This would include language classes and equitable funding for all departments. Ideally, this would include daycare too.

Environmental Action -Probably the hardest one to tackle and with a time crunch. This goes hand in hand with infrastructure reform; the energy grid wastes a ton of power because of how old and crumbling it is. Water infrastructure is also in danger with the recent droughts part of the country is seeing and the floods in the other. Reducing carbon emissions, using the other better and available energy options...I could make a whole post about this alone because it is what I majored in, but requires a lot more than just switching the lights we use and saving energy. This is bigger than just a consumer-level problem, and the biggest polluters are a handful of companies that ruin the environment, reap the benefits and keep them, then put the environmental costs on all of us. They need to be strictly regulated and required to change wasteful and environmentally harmful practices; and not just with carbon offsets.

our issues are way more complicated and numerous, and I do have more ideas on smaller issues too. But I think handling these would significantly impact the others to raise the quality of life here. We have to divert from the path we are charging down, because not all Americans are the bigoted and ignorant people shown all over the news. A majority of us want the best for each other and to live our lives rather than just survive until we die. Many don't know what to do to begin to change things and can't afford to even leave while a handful of men in powerful offices toy with people's lives all over the world just because they can and have the guns to force the rest of us into thinking we are powerless against them. They keep us divided and uninformed and we often get to choose between a bad and horrible choice for who ends up in charge.

If anyone reads this and wonders what they can do, the biggest impact an individual can do is vote. Vote in people that will make these things happen and who aren't being paid on the side to work for corporate and stock and pharmaceutical and defense industry interests. Vote in your primaries so that when the big decision finally comes, we aren't left with the worst options. Don't let them scare you and don't let them destroy the shreds of democracy we have left.

There are only two classes: Working Class, and Ruling Class.

Unless you have the kind of money that allows you to influence politics and get legislation passed that is favorable to you/your "industry", you are working class.

You take the side of the capitalists because you've acquired a level of economic comfort that the average citizen can only dream about, and that has lulled you into a false sense of security. To you, you're at least middle class, if not upper-middle class - but there's no such thing. Not really. You see yourself as "one of them", even if your money doesn't buy politicians, but you're not one of them. You're one of us, and you're just working for them like a good little boot-licker. You're fooling yourself if you think they won't eventually come for you too.

You applaud, or at the very least "look the other way" as they bulldoze the lowest earners into insecure housing, homelessness, and when they get desperate and hopeless enough, into prisons. You think that will never be you, but it is you. It's you, right now. Your prisons are fancier than those scary ones with bars on the windows. You rake yourself over the coals to afford to buy your way into your fancy prison, and tether yourself to a lifetime of indentured servitude to pay off mortgages and loans and car payments. You welcome the push towards a cash-free society because the all-encompassing they will never use your dependence on digital money to cut off your access (such child-like naivete). They've been cutting access to resources slowly but surely for everyone else, but they'll never come for you, right? Why not? What could possibly stop them from shoveling you into the new "slave class" when the time comes and when there are none of us left to fight for you?

You welcome a world where you can buy your groceries from home, and never speak to your neighbours, never stopping to wonder why we're being driven further and further towards becoming a society of islands. Individualized, isolated, insulated... Community is the greatest power of the people and we're getting to a point where "community" will cease to exist in any kind of meaningful way. Too tired to put the effort in to organize. Stretched too thin to make time for social and/or community engagement. Too insulated and suspicious of everyone else to be able to trust that anyone out there could possibly actually be honest. You're told in a thousand different ways every day that everyone else wants what you have, and that they'll take it in any way they can, so you have to protect it. Keep everyone else out.

The day will come when they do come for everything you have, but it won't be the people you've been taught to suspect and avoid. It'll be the ones whose asses you've spent your life kissing in hopes of some day joining them at their table. There was never a place for you there, and there never will be.

Some of you know it, already. Deep down in your gut, you're starting to realize it. You've felt it. The "pinch" that people in your "social class" were never supposed to have to experience. Grocery anxiety was reserved for "the poors" before, but here you are, worried about the cost of meat, and cheese, and fucking lettuce. You were comfortable, and now you have to tighten your belt a bit... and maybe you're telling yourself that it's not so bad, or that it'll get better, or whatever you need tell yourself in order to keep believing that social classes are not just false constructs designed to keep the Working Class from organizing against the Ruling Class. You're so desperate to keep believing that you're of a certain class that you're just going to lay down and suck it up and keep taking the pinch. It's just a pinch, right? Yeah. It's a pinch that's going to tighten more and more and more. Capitalism is relentless. It cannot thrive without infinite growth, and infinite growth is not possible without infinite shrinkage on the other end. That's you, now. The shrinkage has reached you, and it'll keep squeezing you until it reaches everyone.

And those who aren't feeling it yet? They will. Unless they have the kind of wealth that buys space ships and 100-year fallout bunkers and political influence, they're gonna feel it too... And when the wealthiest of the Working Class finally feel the pinch, it'll be too late for all of us.

🕹️👨‍💻An escape is only an escape if you still live most of your life in reality👨‍💻🕹️

🛑SPOILERS AHEAD🛑

(YES EVEN IF YOU SAW THE MOVIE)

Ready Player One by Ernest Cline

Read: January 27 -> January 31, 2024

BRA Score: 79/100

Favorite Quote: “No one in the world gets what they want and that’s beautiful.” - Wade, Pg?

~~~~~~~~

Book Gist: Wade is growing up in 2045, with nothing and no one to his name. His saving grace from a life of boredom and loneliness: The Hunt. The creator of the most used product in the world, The OASIS, left behind a challenge when he died 5 years ago that whoever can solve all the clues, pass every challenge, and collect every key will win his Easter Egg, which will make the winner richer than their wildest dreams, and give them full control over the OASIS. Wade isn’t the only one searching, millions of OASIS users have had their hands in the hunt, but the most dangerous is by far the Sixers of IOI, the quickly-monopolizing second tech company that will corrupt and destroy the sanctuary that Halliday built in the OASIS to turn it into another capitalist endeavor. Wade is trying to win it before IOI can, but if he is so poor he can’t even leave his school’s planet, how is supposed to solve anything?

Tags: SciFi, YA, Virtual Reality, Violence, Future-set

~~~~~~~~

Overall Review:

Pre-read:

The movie is by far one of my most favorite films of all time. I can pick it up at any point and immediately start quoting word for word. It’s my comfort film.

That being said, this read was highly anticipated, and I have not circled back yet to read Ready Player Two (though it’s on my list for next month because I am very excited that the sequel film was green lit).

Plot:

And, I think because I’ve lived the movie for years, I wasn’t made about how different the book was, BECAUSE my source material was the film, knowing the film was adapting the novel. I wasn’t attached one way or another on seeing parts of the book in the film. And because I have a mind for film, and how adaptions work, I could recognize why such significant parts of the story had to be changed, like the fact that there are 6 challenges (one per key and one per gate), or Daito and Sho being related, or iROK’s entire character (he drove me crazy tbh). To bring that to film would be such a struggle, because it’s so well layered and incorporated in the novel, with the pace and the plot structure, keeping that would not be plausible for a film timeframe and a bit too busy for the attention span of a film viewer.

Worldbuilding:

What I also really loved about the book was the detail! It was all so intricate and so reference heavy. It goes so much deeper in the book than it ever went in the film, and I love that. Because I’m the kind of person who can identify a detail as it is presented that’s meant to be hidden only to be very important later on, this book had me on the edge of my seat, I had no clue what would matter and what wouldn’t, which is exactly the reason why Halliday’s Hunt was so hard in the first place, so I really felt right in the middle of it all.

Romantic Sub-Plot:

Wade and Samantha’s relationship was a lot less interesting and a lot less necessary in the book, I felt. I didn’t really feel their chemistry much. I think their friendship only culminating in a relationship post-egg (or even moments before the final battle) would have been a lot better, especially if they had previously acknowledged that they had feelings for each other, but it didn’t feel right to explore that side of their relationship yet.

Wade:

Also!!!! Dude, Wade is so much fucking smarter than the film makes him!! He freaking infiltrates IOI (which is so much more awful in the book) and takes them all down from the inside and then freaking escapes!! Sam was legit just allowed anywhere she wanted and then walked out in the movie. He is a literal genius.

Cast:

Losing Daito IRL really made the stakes more intense than in the film, even with the stacks blowing up and the car chase. I was really sad for a while with that one, especially for Sho.

Chicano report back on International Day Against Police Brutality

Today is Friday March 15, 2024. It is International Day Against Police Brutality. Yesterday on Thursday March 14th, I decided to write this piece since there are several things going on this month. March marks Women’s Herstory Month, Social Work Month, the Cesear Chavez March, the historic Chicano blowouts, and so much more. This day also marks the 2-year anniversary of the murder of Kevin Johnson by police. It happened in March of 2022. If you are new to the story, you can find out the details here: Man killed by SAPD officers shot 12 times, including 8 times in the back, autopsy shows (ksat.com). However, I must say that the capitalist media has never been the greatest source of information. If you are familiar with Malcolm X you can remember he was quoted saying, “If you’re not careful, the newspapers will have you hating the people who are being oppressed, and loving the people who are doing the oppressing.”

What happened to Kevin Johnson is a case and point. We can see another case and point currently going on right now with Palestine. They are portraying the colonized Palestinians who are the oppressed as the villain or terrorist and the Israeli Zionist colonizers who are the oppressor as the hero and victim.

Since we have been conditioned for some time now by the capitalist system, their narrative almost always goes unquestioned because people believe the working poor (working class) and “criminal” class (lumpen proletariat) are elements that should be looked down upon society. Whether it is within or without those classes, there are people out there who willingly advance reactionary ideas that were developed by the capitalist system to criminalize those very two classes.

According to Romero (2001), “Characterization of this population as super predators is socially constructed through a racial lens-the lens that reflects the images of White middle-class youth as “our” children and Indigenous/Latino (& African) adolescent males as violent, inherently dangerous and endangering” (p. 1084). Based on my research I found that John DiLulio was the “academic” proponent behind calling inner city youth “super-predators” and he described those very same youth as “growing up surrounded by deviant, delinquent, and criminal adults in chaotic, dysfunctional, fatherless, Godless, and jobless settings” (Romero, 2001). Is it any wonder why the following people who were also murdered by the police were portrayed the same way to the public? Marquise Jones, Charles Roundtree, Andre Hernandez, Norman Cooper, Jesse Aguirre, Darryl Zemault, Eric Mejia, Damian Daniels, Antronie Scott, and the list goes on unfortunately.

All this capitalist propaganda and/or "Copaganda" we see when something like this happens is designed to keep us from the truth and justice. The truth is the masses of working African and Indigenous people or even so-called gangs or street organizations are not the main problems that we face. Of course, everyone bears responsibility for keeping these reactionary ideas going, which is why I am involved in an organization working for justice to see that these ideas are checked. We should be directing our attention to the African and Indigenous/Latino/Hispanic petit bourgeoisie. The majority in that class who were not involved in the struggle benefit from the sacrifices made by people involved in social movements struggling for liberation. They don’t want us to focus on how they got to those positions off the backs of the masses of people, those two classes mentioned before. They don’t want us to focus on how it was the masses who pushed the capitalist system to allow programs to be created to have an African and Indigenous petit bourgeoise, which for the system meant protecting its interests and keeping the masses in check.

You can see this play out in the case of Kevin Johnson. After the day Kevin was killed by police there were news reports following the reaction from the police and the community. If you pay attention, you can see that the strategy of pacification was implemented. Just like how Malcolm X described the difference between the field slave and the house slave on the plantation. The slave master would use the house slave to keep the masses of field slaves in check when they would rebel. Just like when the community righteously rebelled against those officers for killing their family member, their brother, their friend. The capitalist media busts out the house slave, but this time it's the Black over seer. Former San Antonio law enforcement officer looks to bridge relations between police and community (ksat.com) This ex-police officer stated, "The community has gotten afraid of the police and, I believe the police became afraid of the community". When cops are not blatantly using their brute force under the "Iron Fist" approach, they are using community policing model as another tool under the guise of the "Velvet Glove" approach to infiltrate our communities to keep us from becoming militant.

Please don't take this out of context. The masses wanted us to gain knowledge and skills that would benefit our movement for justice. So, we must not avoid attending college, but we must become more conscious about our situation here in the US because it affects us politically, socially, culturally, and economically. For more context and background just look up the Kerner Commission report: 1968 Kerner Commission Report | Othering & Belonging Institute (berkeley.edu)

It is time to start challenging the dominant narrative and creating our own platforms to share our narrative so we can tell our own side of the story without it being coopted or watered down. The problem is too many people do not want to get involved in an organization working for justice for whatever reason they may have. I am always down to meet people where they are at, but we must challenge those reactionary ideas when they come up in our work. Most working-class people today are not class conscious. Instead of uniting together to defeat the capitalists to build a better society they want to be involved in that system and milk it as much as possible.  The criminal class whether it be from the African or Indigenous community is designed to exploit the people instead of uniting with the masses of their people to try and find collective solutions to the problems which come from the system that sets them up to be outlaws. If you understand how capitalism works you understand these paradoxes because the masses of people are propagandized in a certain way to see how the world operates and appears to be. This means we cannot hold our people in contempt. We must hold the capitalist system in contempt. We have to go beyond just being anti-racist. We must be anti-capitalist, anti-patriarchal, and anti-colonial. Why does this system allow a criminal class to exist in the first place? To keep us from organizing and fighting back against it. It serves the adversaries of the masses of our people. Just look at all the drugs coming into the community, for example. Just look at who makes up the masses of people who are incarcerated. That is why the so-called criminal justice system makes sure to keep crime going among our people. We tend to leave the system of capitalism outside of the analysis, thus always placing blame on the very same people who are being held in the grip of that system. Take for example, the 1033 program that is being implemented as we speak or the Project Safe Neighborhoods program. Did you know that these programs even existed? Do you know anything about them? If you do your research, you will understand that the situations people are put into like those mentioned above are not random. People are being systematically targeted. Particularly, the African and Indigenous community.

Thinking about brother Malcom’s words I thought to myself if people here are consuming news or information that is providing a narrative that is bought and paid for by big multi-national corporations then that must mean why so many people are so miss informed about so many things that are and should be important to us. This is why so many people must hear what reactionary entertainers have to say about our problems, or even your local/national news giving only a tip of the iceberg level of analysis if any instead of asking the hard questions and looking at the root of the problem. Fear is used to control us. It makes the masses afraid and portrays actual revolutionaries and revolutionary organizations on the frontlines bringing you information based on truth and justice as violent and loveless. This is how the system keeps us divided and dependent. It is love that guides us revolutionaries not hate. Join an organization working for justice today!

Doubling Way Down

Intensity is the truest way to full living.  Ask liberals who demand more authority to fix the problems they caused by just not getting enough.  Cursing moderation is one approach to failures caused by middling indulgence.  Pacing during consumption surely works with meth.  Junkies need more of their fix in response to previous failures.  Quitters would’ve given up on ever making government work.  These addicts inflict consequences on everyone who doesn’t consume.

Trying what the Soviets did is bound to work this time.  The very moderate Chicago mayor’s totally original ideas to have comrades stand in line for a chance to obtain a glorious turnip will surely cure hunger.  Corporate greed must be why supermarkets won’t sell in areas with liberal policies.  Parasitic commercial pirates don’t want to cope with robbers stealing cash as shoplifters steal merchandise that’s too costly due to taxes and inflation.  Politicians that created circumstances for rottenness are surely skilled at maintaining fresh produce.

History dorks claim a few governments previously tried state-owned grocers.  I don’t believe them any more than I do that state ownership didn’t increase the East German chip selection.  Shoppers from all over will rush to Chicago to enjoy what will surely be the fullest shelves.  I can’t imagine prices will be as dreadful as the selection.  Noticing patterns is a stereotype, and we should avoid such intolerances.

Contemporary commies who don’t know about anything that happened before this morning should still have enough information to know their schemes fail.  They would be missing the wrong Berlin if they learned what the Cold War is.  Those born in the wrong time missed the chance to hop in the wrong direction.  There were way fewer people heading eastward.  Only capitalist lackeys want to deal with crowds.

Asking just why no companies will make money selling food in Chicago is for greed-mongers.  Scolding businesses for both their conduct while open and their fleeing upon getting fed up surely isn’t in conflict.  The precise policies that spur vacancies are used to justify more intense versions of them.  The wrong kind of options increase.

That’ll teach stores for selfishly wanting to make a little money in exchange for feeding everyone.  Taxing the stuffing out of anyone who dares enter a market is the opposite of openness.  Grocers aren’t helping the collective by doing anything like offering food and jobs.  Inventory is largely stuffed down pants of miscreants.  Legalizing crime somehow isn’t good for business.

You didn’t use enough napalm, which is why the fire rages.  What did you want to extinguish it with: water?  Unscientific amateurs don’t get to ride the truck.  Professional experts know just how to remedy everything, which is why they focus on winning elections in lieu of wasting their superior talents applying knowledge practically in the private sector. 

Our poor fragile economy needs more molding by gifted sculptors wearing oven mitts.  They sip Mad Dog 20/20 out of straws to keep that creative feeling stirring.  Demanding more income confiscation will surely spur more earning.  Oh: it’s like gun control.  And that makes it the same as every other tiresome proposal by those who claim they didn’t get the chance to fail hard enough.

Looking for slight improvement with each incremental implemented step is for quacks.  The truly compassionate want to run everything for you.  Won’t a lack of autonomy make your life just the easiest?

Decision-makers who are sick of yours crave a single-payer system.  Enemies of your independence truly think one of the steps will make health care more efficient.  Self-righteousness is not a cure, which is too bad.

College is the place for not learning what happens off campus.  Ducking student loans is undoubtedly good practice for being a grown-up.  Massive federal intervention didn’t help but actually harmed, which one might find useful as a lesson applied to every single attempt before or since.

Are you against learning?  You can’t ask followup questions, as standing against the way liberals frame the world means you oppose learning.  Political science majors must be subsidized by taxpayers lest society become communally ignorant.  Throwing money at the dean’s office somehow made tuition more expensive.  You’d think there might be a class that shows which attempted evasions lead to even more woe.  Take it pass/fail.

The solution is naturally more.  The unforgivable sin of forgiving student loans would make inflation even more preposterous.  The unfortunate liberal tendency to only see one side applies to failing to realize that lenders would get screwed over as badly as taxpayers.  Nothing will help the economy like avoiding paying off debt.

Your helpers will need just one more little bit of autonomy.  It’s not a request.  Don’t fret about consent, as that’s been rendered illegal through executive order.  You’ll appreciate the lack of decisions you have to make even more when there’s finally a breakthrough.

Sure, life get worse with every step of governmental bossiness, which amateur observers might think indicates it’s a bad idea.  But you must believe if you want to be rewarded.  The worst kind of prosperity faith is one where there’s never a reward.  The church of government offers the best example of the worst approach to living.  There is separation of church and state except when the state is the church.  Adherence to the one faith where there is absolutely zero chance of payoff means you’re truly devout.

vote *for whom*. there isn't a single major party in my country that opposes the ethnic cleansing of gaza

Vote for whomever gets you one step closer or, at worst, whomever's standing still while their opponent tries to drag the country down to authoritarian capitalist hell

And don't let Okay and Good pass you by while you're waiting for the Perfect that will never come. Don't look at Okay and Good and go "nah, I'll just let Really Fucking Bad Actually win because it upsets my tummy to vote for anything less than Perfect"

If you can't handle holding your nose and picking a candidate that doesn't agree with you on everything when the other candidate wants not just all Palestinians dead, but also you and me and everyone else who would never suck their dick and pay them for the privilege, then I don't believe you could ever possibly handle the revolution you want so badly

To clarify, because we all love to piss on the poor,

Genocide is not okay or good. Supporting genocide is abhorrent. But not voting doesn't stop candidates from being elected; it just stops you from having a say in the matter. And if both candidates support genocide, well that sucks but there are other issues, even if they may be less important, to you and/or objectively; and if the candidates agreed on every issue, they would not be running against each other

So get out there and vote for the fucked up piece of shit who only wants to kill Palestinian men, not the women and children, instead of the one who wants to wipe the entire middle east off the map because at least you'll be saving the women and children while you work on a better solution, and it'll take you all the effort of standing in one (1) line and filling a circle or two to do it. The other 364 days you can go back to saving Gaza through the power of mutual aid and the revolution everyone loves to talk about but nobody seems to actually be doing

Or vote for the fucked up piece of shit who wants Gaza gone (because they both do) but also wants to decriminalize drugs. Does this help Gaza? Not directly, but it keeps more people out of prison, meaning you have more people who you coalition build and collaborate with, whether on direct NGO involvement in getting aid to Gaza, or on pressuring politicians to call for a cease fire, or just building a base of voting power to back a better candidate in the next race

Oh and if your country has a primary system like the US, maybe vote then, too, so you can push whichever viable party you most agree with (or least disagree with, if it hurts your tummy too much to think of it in terms of agreement) further in the direction you want and need

These things matter. Of course you want to save everyone and you want it to happen right now. I do too! But when that's not an option on the table, the right choice isn't to sit on your hands and complain from a distance. The right choice is to do whatever will lead to a better outcome. Not perfect, not even necessarily good. Just better than the alternative

And then reach in the toolbox for the next tool, and keep going. Is a nail gun more effective at building a house than a table saw? Maybe. But I suspect it's hard to cut a 2x4 with a nail gun, and there's no harm in putting down the nail gun for just a moment and plugging in the table saw when a board that's too long comes your way. Then you can pick up the nail gun again and make sure that board knows its place

The Real Estate Markets in China, Japan, & the USA

The Real Estate Market in China The Chinese real estate market has undergone a real transformation. In the not-too-distant past, Chinese workers were guaranteed secure housing by their communist administration. The new drift in Chinese real estate has made real estate too expensive even for the highly-paid middle-class workers making it a different ball game altogether. This is a complete shift from socialism to capitalism. Communism The Chinese real estate market is a tale of the rise of staunch free enterprise in a communist state. In 1978, Chinese real estate had zero prices. This was because the land of China was possessed by the government. The Chinese constitution banned private proprietorship and transfer of land. All buy or sell transactions were forbidden. All the workers were government employees. They were entitled to housing on the basis of their seniority, number of years of service, and size of their household among other aspects. It was impossible to predict that China would one day, become one of the main real estate markets in the world. It would end up being a major case used in discussions relating to real estate bubbles. Denationalization takes over Things began to alter in socialist China. The economy no longer remained communist in 1988 when the constitution was revised. Laws that did not permit private possession of land now stood modified. The latest laws separated the land into 2 classes: - One category was for lower-income households. These houses were to be sold on a cost-plus foundation. Also, the administration would keep a firm check on the expenses incurred in constructing these houses. Developers who created and implemented these plans without any glitches would get tax credits. Ideally, these houses were sold at 5% above the cost price to low-income households. There were obstructive conditions that made it hard to meet the requirements for such a home. Also, selling your own home was prohibited by the government for a period of at least 5 years after its acquisition. - The other category of houses being sold was commodity housing. This real estate market was driven by the markets i.e., investors could easily purchase and sell their properties at whatever prices they liked. One could also rent out these properties. The rent control act of 1994 finished the transformation of a part of the Chinese property market from socialistic to capitalistic. Property prosperity The next 20 years witnessed property booms the likes of which, the world never saw. The government-controlled affordable homes in the economy had steadily declined. They were replaced by commodity housing. The prices and the supply of commodity houses have greatly increased across China. The average price rise over 20 years has been in double digits each year. This is an 8-fold price increase over 2 decades. In some cities, the means have been as high as 26% compounded annual growth rate! This can be one of the biggest and longest-lasting bull runs in any property market worldwide. Expensive prices made real estate go beyond the reach of the working-class population. This encouraged the Chinese government to once again endorse firmer laws. Firm laws on 2nd and 3rd home The Chinese government has passed firm laws to control the acquisition of second and third homes in most cities. These laws were passed to guarantee that poor first-home debtors were not facing rivalry from wealthy second or third-home debtors. The laws necessitate those individuals buying their second home to make a down payment of at least 60% of their property value. If the person is buying a third home, they would be given no financing and would be required to pay the whole sum in cash. This law had serious consequences on housing sales in tier-1 and tier-2 towns. The quickly rising house prices swiftly saw an improvement. China witnessed its first real estate bust in these times! Stimulus Package In 2008, a stimulus package to revive the banking sector and encourage lending was awarded in China. This increased real estate prices, which the government tried for so long, to subdue. The banks were full of cash and real estate developers wanted loans. As such, a lot of cash was lent to them at a wild pace. For some time, the bust became a boom, which was extremely short-lived. Misallocation The Chinese developers constructed huge gated societies and towns. These were built for the higher-class people. But the elite class has not bought these communities. China now has uninhabited new ghost towns which have never been lived in. They are one of the largest misallocations of capital in the history of the centrally managed Chinese economy. Presently, some Chinese cities are seeing a slump in their property prices while the prices have deteriorated in some other towns. If the market sentiment is to be believed China is bound to see a rectification of real estate values. The Real Estate Market in Japan The Japanese real estate tale is significant as well as unique. These stories include mentions of periods of booms and busts. The property market downwards for a few years only to mend a few years in the future. This Japanese story is very different. The Japanese market saw a bull run never seen earlier. This continued till 1991. Then came the slump! Since 1991, Japan has seen a collapse of epic magnitude. The property estimates have fallen and have stayed there for 20 years despite the wild hard work of the Japanese administration to recover them. The 30-year-long economic miracle After WW2, the Japanese economy was practically wrecked. They had been fighting for years and as such their economy had hurt a lot. Hiroshima and Nagasaki had been bombed by the United States. The worker morale was at an all-time low.  The Japanese economy post-war experienced an economic boom. Japanese businesses started making major progress in the electronics and automobile marketplaces of the world. This led to increased success in the economy. The high success created jobs for many Japanese workers. Japanese companies consider workers to be a part of their family. They never fire them. This gave rise to augmented buying power. By the late 70s and early 80s, Japan had become the second-largest economy in the world. It was slowly moving closer to the United States. To many economic observers, this was an economic miracle that Japan had pulled off in 30 years. During this time the Japanese real estate market saw a stable upward boom. The prices were being driven up at around the rate of economic growth and no one anticipated any sort of bubble being formed. Tax Laws improved In the 1980s, Japan decided to relax its previously traditional property markets. The Japanese property markets had a draconian tax system regime that prohibited any modification in the possession of properties. If a property was sold in under 2 years after its purchase, taxes we over 90% of the capital appreciation! If the same property was sold between 2-5 years after its purchase, around 75% of the capital gains made by the stakeholders were due to the Japanese government as tax. If the stakeholders sold the property after 5 years, 50% of the capital appreciation was due as tax. The transaction costs of the Japanese real estate market made it useless for anyone else except genuine home buyers to buy a house. Come the 80s and the Japanese government revoked a lot of these rules to fashion an open real estate market to suit the requirements of the open Japanese economy. Stock Market & Real Estate Market Because of ease in the rules and laws, a circumstance was shaped wherein the real estate and the stock market started feeding off one another. Many people ended up selling highly valued stocks to acquire real estate. This shaped a demand for real estate that was increasing in value. Many real estate investors would liquidate and once again buy stocks and shares of Japanese businesses. Both these asset classes were outperforming every other investment there is. As such, they attracted more and more money. The value of both these asset classes went sky-high! By 1991, real estate estimates in Tokyo were several times higher than rival valuations in more wealthy cities like New York and London. The Real Estate crash of the 90s The 90s saw the end of the real estate market in Japan. The Bank of Japan raised interest rates. This was done to control the inflation that was triggered by the loose fiscal policy that it had followed for years. The money supply in the market became tight. The mortgages became more expensive to deal with. The Japanese real estate rapidly went down. This created the ultimate downward spiral. Property prices ended up plummeting more than 64% in Japan in just 10 years. Stakeholders and homeowners, who were highly leveraged, lost a noteworthy portion of their funds as prices constantly crumbled. Worth Half the Price in 2015 By 2015, the Japanese housing market had still not improved. The Japanese held its interest rates near 0% for many years on end. They have also had a quantitative easing program. That too, has been ineffective in raising the prices of the real estate market again. Compared to 1991, the present value of today is 50% of its value. If you had participated in Japanese real estate in 1985 and wanted to cash out after 30 years, you would have ZERO capital increase!  The Real Estate Market in the USA The USA is one of the most advanced countries in the world. It has the most see-through market system in the world. Most world economies are entangled with the US economy. This means that a small movement in the USA markets sends ripples worldwide. In 2007, a local real estate crisis in the US markets became a catastrophe of global magnitudes and endangered the financial system of the world! In this section, I will describe the two major boom-bust cycles that the US real estate sector has seen since the 1980s. Phase 1: The Bust The American real estate market was seeing a bust from the 1980s onwards. This was formed by the Savings and Loan disaster that was existing in the markets during this time. Before the 1980s, most of the homes being bought in the US were being bought as a result of money on loan from these Savings and Loans establishments. In the 1980s the Fed understood that price rises were slipping out of control. The interest rates were then increased by a staggering 20%! This interest rate hike almost wiped out the savings and credit industry. They could not attract new capital at these rates. The number of people who afford this rate to buy a home went down significantly. It brought a crash in the real estate market in the US. The savings and loans catastrophe were one of the lowest points in the history of US real estate. Even then, no one could predict what was to follow. Phase 2: The Manmade Boom The 90s saw the recovery from the savings and loan catastrophe. These institutions had become bankrupt. Some other financial organizations were also under severe monetary pressure. The lending was at an all-time low. The government passed many laws to raise lending and in particular, lending to the real estate segment. Soon, the radical motive of satisfying the so-called “America Dream” took over all wisdom. The legislators were inflexible in creating rules that would allow more people to purchase homes. The long-term consequences of these rules were simply not understood. One of the largest boom periods in American history followed. This was enabled by the 1% interest rate that was prevalent in the Us then. Banks were instructed by law to lower their loaning standards to confirm that they book as many loans as is probable! The Real Estate market was swamped with buyers who had a lot of money. They were willing to buy properties that appreciated in value making their proprietors rich. This lasted from the late 1990s to 2007. It was manmade. It was the rest of the US policies. It is often referred to as the manufactured boom. Phase 3: The Crisis 2007, saw perhaps the biggest financial crisis that the world had ever seen. It originated from the US real estate industry. The manufactured boom soon became a manufactured catastrophe. The interest rates in the economy were raised again. This increase created an extraordinary disaster called the subprime mortgage crisis. The increased interest rates caused the once-a-month payments of loans to go up. Many homeowners could not afford an increased mortgage. The houses had to be foreclosed. The declining value of the houses created an excess supply in which the prices were diminishing even more. During this atrocity, almost most worldwide markets were badly affected. The US real estate market lost almost half of its value. It was the worst hit. Phase 4: The Market Beyond the Crisis The US real estate market has been healing post-2008. This has been a slow process. The severe drops that were seen by the real estate market are now being swapped by a stable rise. This time, government intervention in the market is negligible. This moderate growth is not being driven by insanely low-interest rates. Some pundits see the Quantitative Easing policies being followed in the US as the main culprit. However, nothing can be overwhelmingly said till now. The US real estate sector has had its ups and downs. Real estate is not the safest investment as people this it is. It is as risky as any other investment, if not more.    Read the full article