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henry-fox-biggest-stan · 9 months

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I’ve seen someone else mention this, but I also wanted to talk about this

The erasure of queerness in the movie is something I definitely did not expect.

Sure, it’s a love story between two men, but grab Alex and Henry and make them a man and a woman, the movie doesn’t change much. Maybe monarchy instead of being homophobic and racist now it’s only racist, and they hate Alex not because he’s a man but because he’s brown. They kept it a secret because of monarchy’s racism, but love triumphs at the end. That’s why the movie didn’t hit as hard as the book. The movie is just some forbidden love movie, rwrb is a book where the main characters are in a forbidden relationship, but it’s not the whole point of the book.

Alex discovering his sexuality, Nora being bisexual, whatever Pez had going on, whatever June and Nora had going on, Alex learning about queer history, the historical lgbt love letters at the ends of their e-mails, all the references to queer history and literature, THE SHELTERS, monarchy’s homophobia (yes, it appears on the movie but it’s really glossed over. It doesn’t show just how homophobic they actually are in the book), Alex stating how he knows more about himself the more intimate (both in the sexual and non sexual sense) he is with Henry, Luna being gay and unapologetic about it and being exactly Alex’s queer role model, even before Alex knew he was queer himself, THE FUCKING SHELTERS

I’m so so mad about the shelters being missing.

Henry and Pez made shelters for lgbt youth, so they can never feel as alone as Henry once felt, so they can always have a safe space so they know there’s nothing wrong with them no matter what the adults in their life might say, no matter what the preacher or their classmates or the right wing politicians in their tv might say, where they can find hope, and friends, and a home if they never had one before, or at least, one where they could truly be themselves. The shelters are, I would say, crucial to Henry’s character development. He went from hiding, believing being gay was “the most unforgivable part of him”, not even trying to come out because he just succumbed to live an unhappy life in the closet, to someone who’s out, living with his boyfriend and running lgbt shelters with his best friend so young queer people can move past all the things he felt and believed time ago, so they know they are perfectly normal and loved and safe in there, as long as Henry and Pez are there they’re safe, they don’t have to hide anymore.

Henry became the queer elder he needed in his life when he was younger. The lgbt adult who could tell him than it would get better, no matter how bad it was at the moment, no matter if he couldn’t see the light at the end of the tunnel, because it was there, he just had to hold on a bit more. Than there was absolutely nothing wrong with him.

Another thing than I seen changed than a normal person might not notice, but I did, because im obsessed, is the karaoke scene.

In the book, it takes place in something resembling a gay bar (maybe not exactly, but it’s full of queer people), and look at this

Three rounds of shots appear —one from a drunk bachelorette party, one from a herd of surly butch chicks at the bar, and one from a table of drag queens. They raise a toast, and Alex feels more welcomed than he ever has before, even at his family’s victory rallies.

Look again

and Alex feels more welcomed than he ever has before, even at his family’s victory rallies.

This book is about about finding community, finding yourself, finding love and letting yourself accept that love.

Do you think Alex in the movie has felt “more welcomed than he ever has before, even at his family’s victory rallies” at any point? Has he been with another queer person in the whole movie, except Henry, at all?? Because Nora’ sexuality was not mentioned at all no references nothing and with the whole Pez thing everyone could see Nora as just straight

Henry and Alex in the movie are kind of without community, alienated from it, they are, in my personal opinion, the kind of gay people republicans would consider “good gay people” who “don’t shove it on everyone’s faces and just wanna be left alone” (in the rwrb universe where they exist and are real not actual republican people watching the movie). They don’t really take a role on the community, in the book, Alex and Henry being queer is an important part of themselves, again, Alex feeling like he knows himself better, Henry whole internalized homophobia, their shared interest for lgbt history and literature, Henry and Pez making the shelters, etc etc meanwhile in the movie Alex and Henry just happen to be gay and bisexual, but it’s no deeper than that.

And don’t get me started on creating Miguel, a queer character, and making him the one to leak the e-mails or smth instead of a republican candidate

#you might disagree but this is *my* opinion #rwrb #casey mcquiston #red white and royal blue #firstprince #alex claremont diaz #henry fox mountchristen windsor #red white & royal blue #rwrb movie #rwrb movie spoilers

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matan4il · 3 months

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Daily update post:

I wrote yesterday about a Hezbollah drone which crashed in Israel without setting off the sirens, and missed by a small margin a kindergarten. Now we know about a second Hezbollah drone, which was found in someone's backyard in northern Israel, and which also didn't trigger any alarm systems. The fact that no warning systems were set off twice that we know of, is a real cause for concern, and is being looked into. As this second drone didn't explode after crashing, Israel will be able to study it, which is the main silver lining.

I have written repeatedly about UNRWA's complicity in Palestinian terrorism in general, and Hamas' in particular. We're getting even more data on this. Previous numbers talked about how many UNRWA members had ties to any Palestinian terrorist organization, now the figures on ties to Hamas specifically are being shared: at least 440 UNRWA workers in Gaza were active Hamas terrorists, at least 2,000 are registered Hamas operatives, and at least 7,000 have a first degree relative who's a Hamas member, making a total of at least 9,440 UNRWA employees in Gaza closely tied to Hamas out of a total of 12,000 Gaza UNRWA workers. And since we're talking about this UN agency again, remember when I recently wrote about the social worker employed by UNRWA, who was captured in CCTV footage kidnapping the body of a murdered Israeli man to Gaza, with the help of a fellow Hamas terrorist? Well, we now know who the man, whose lifeless body Faisal Ali Mussalem Naami was kidnapping, is. It's 21 years old Yonatan Samerano.

He was attending the Nova music festival on Oct 7. It seems he and two friends tried to escape the slaughter there by fleeing to the nearby kibbutz Re'im, where all three were murdered by Hamas terrorists at the community gate. Then Naami showed up DRIVING A UN VEHICLE (that's right, with UN LICENSE PLATES, as confirmed by Ayelet Samerano) and used this car to kidnap Yonatan's body. In the interview I heard with Ayelet Samerano, Yonatan's mom, she said she's going to be demanding answers from the UN secretary general, and that the family is considering filing a lawsuit. Meanwhile, because Jewish lives really are nothing, I'll remind you that UNRWA has been nominated by a Norwegian member of parliament for a Nobel Peace Prize. If you think this is the bad judgment of one politician, Norway is also one of the few western countries NOT temporarily suspending funding of UNRWA until further investigation, and have even said they might increase it. There's only one bit of good news, and that's the fact the US is saying its suspension of UNRWA fudning is going to be permanent.

The reality of Hamas' brutal sex crimes isn't news at this point to anyone with a bit of decency regarding Israeli civilians' fate on Oct 7, but a new report delving into more details than ever on those sex crimes has now been sent to the UN. I expect it to have zero impact given the UN's track record, but it's still important that this report was compiled and submitted by ARCCI, the Israeli association of organizations aiding rape and sexual assault victims.

There's a whole saga with Brazil's president, Lula. Sit tight. It started with Lula saying that what Israel is doing right now in Gaza has never happened before in history, and if it did, it was only when Hitler decided to genocide the Jews (this is absolutely untrue on any measurable level. The war in Gaza is not the bloodiest one ever, doesn't have the highest rate of killed civilians when the global one is a 9:1 ratio of killed civilians compared to killed militants while in the Gaza war there's a 4.5 times lower rate at 2:1, and certainly doesn't include an intentional attempt to kill all Palestinians on an intense industrial level with tens of thousands often being killed daily as the Nazis did to the Jews and which made the Holocaust stand out even in comparison to other cases of genocide). So to make it clear, what Lula did was antisemitic, both in falsely demonizing the Jewish state, and in minimizing the Holocaust by presenting it as comparable to a drastically less extreme event (in fact, the internationally accepted IHRA definition of antisemitism has included false comparisons of Israel to the Nazis for years now). In response, Israel has declared Lula a persona non-grata (unwanted personality) here until he retracts these antisemitic comments. This didn't make Lula reconsider his antisemitic comments, instead he recalled the Brazilian ambassador to Israel. This is maybe connected to Lula's warm ties with the Islamist regime in Iran (including allowing Iranian ships to dock in Brazil), which officially denies the Holocaust.

Here is a vid 21 years old Maya Regev, who was injured, and then kidnapped together with her younger brother Itay by Hamas on Oct 7, from the Nova music festival. Despite her complicated leg injury, she didn't get any medical help during here time in captivity, which compounded her state. She was released in the hostage deal more than 2 months ago, and had undergone several surgeries due to the state of her leg. In this footage, shared yesterday, Maya is seen walking on crutches for the first time since her abduction, more than 4 months ago.

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(for all of my updates and ask replies regarding Israel, click here)

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c-rowlesdraws · 3 months

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browsing twitter for longer than a few minutes gives me radiation poisoning these days, and it’s worse in the evening, in the hours when the dark feelings creep in anyway. So even though I’m really apprehensive to talk politics on my art blog (I mean, if the backlash to a hyperbolic post I made about a famous youtuber is this bad, posting about politics would turn my activity page into a window to hell), I have to vent some of my feelings or that radiation damage will just keep getting quietly worse. And a fair number of people read this blog, and seem to like things that I create and say, so for what it’s worth, I want to say some things I hope people will think about.

Someone I really admire tweeted recently about how hopeless they feel. They said that after many years of fighting for social change, they had no fight left. They said they were too exhausted to vote in the upcoming US presidential election. And I tried to understand where they were coming from, because this is someone I look up to. But I can’t. I understand feeling burnt out. I feel nauseous and heartbroken and scared, thinking about the situation in Palestine and the situation in my country. I understand that it seems like there is no good leader to rally behind.

But I can’t tap out. I can’t give in to hopelessness and say, “I can’t choose. I’m tired and I’m done”. When a choice is between maintenance of an imperfect society with incremental steps towards better things, and cranking human misery and suffering enthusiastically up to 11, I’m going with the former. We are all tired every day. But voting is not physically difficult. Even if you are tired, you can do it. There is a day where you go to a building, and you fill in a bubble next to a name, and you go home. They even give you a sticker. I said voting isn’t hard, but actually, it’s very important to say that for a lot of people in the US, voting is hard to access, and for some groups, impossible. It is made difficult on purpose, by people—Republicans, it’s fucking always them, I don’t know why I’m using vague language—who want to disenfranchise as many people as they can. If voting was really a useless gesture, if it really meant nothing— they wouldn’t be working so damn hard to stop poor people and immigrants and prisoners and folks in general from being able to do it.

If you hate Biden, god, fine, whatever. But he is going to be the nominee of the political party made up of judges and politicians that, for the most part, believe that climate change is real and ought to be mitigated, that the US should not be turned into an evangelical christian theocracy, that firearms should be regulated, that businesses should be regulated, that healthcare should be more affordable and accessible, that people should be able to get safe abortions, that trans and all lgbt people deserve to live their lives, and that asylum-seekers shouldn’t be shredded by concertina wire trying to cross the border. The wheel of social change is huge and fucking heavy and sometimes it looks like it isn’t moving at all. But we can feel it move if we all push together.

I caught a Trump ad on the radio the other day and it was some of the scariest shit. “Trump will bring order to chaos,” it said. “He will ban travel from terrorist countries, and end the disastrous open-border policies allowing illegal migrants and deadly drugs like fentanyl to flood into our country.” The fucking anti-muslim travel ban. It’s back, baby. That was the exact phrasing: terrorist countries. If Biden’s foreign policy with regards to the Middle East is frustrating and despair-inducing already, Trump’s would be a catastrophe. The Republicans think Democrats are soft on terrorism. As much as anyone with a conscience is horrified by the US’s continued passivity with regards to Palestine, this motherfucker getting back in office would bring greater horror. I’m really sure about it. I don’t know what that part of the world will look like next fall, but I’m confident that if this dumb bloodthirsty motherfucker regains office, there would be absolutely no hope of public pressure swaying US foreign policy towards “less murder”. Protesting against war and genocide or for any progressive or civil rights cause would become even more dangerous. I still think about the woman who was run over by a car at the protest in 2017

…I’m rambling. I can’t help it. But I don’t want to just ramble unproductively. I should end this with something I hope makes sense to people snd can’t be easily dismissed, even if you already disagree with something I’ve said. I want to say how I genuinely feel.

I believe that imperfect activism is valuable, because it is better to show up and stand in solidarity with other people fighting for a more just world than to not show up at all. I believe all activism is in some way imperfect, because activists are people, and people are imperfect. That is to say, one middle-aged woman who showed up to a DC protest wearing a hand-crocheted pink pussy hat, who maybe hadn’t been to many (or any) protests before but who felt fired up about this one, was worth ten of the smug “real leftists” sneering about her on twitter. Maybe more than ten. Your own activism will be imperfect. But keep an open mind— to your own learning and to others’. Doing “the bare minimum” (and, ugh, what a discouraging phrase) is still doing. We have to encourage everyone who feels drawn to fighting for social good. We have to link arms with one another and be strong. Even if you think the person next to you is a lame-o liberal, if they believe that (for example) trans people deserve access to gender-affirming care and should not be smashed flat into fruit-by-the-foot and sent straight to hell, they are your comrade.

Be wary of people who self-identify as Cassandras and unheeded prophets, especially if their messages consistently emphasize how everything is garbage and the world can’t be saved. If someone is telling you that only they understand how uniquely horrible things are, that no progressive or leftist political philosophy is viable except for the specific one they adhere to, that no news or media sources are worthwhile or even trustworthy except for the small handful of ones they endorse… I won’t say to stop listening to them or following them, but I’d recommend listening to other people, too.

Do your own reading about issues that are important to you. Read many people’s words, watch videos, think about what you believe, and how those beliefs have changed over time, and stay open to being further changed. We are all constantly learning and shaping ourselves, and teaching, and being shaped by others. All of us are tired. But we can hold each other up.

I don’t have a rousing call to action. Just the same things many people are already saying that I’ve felt encouraged by, in a grim sort of way: protest and donate when and where you can, support political candidates on the local and national stage who do support policies you agree with, who could do real good. It feels very hard right now to be hopeful. But we all have to live in whatever future comes eventually— so I think we have to still participate, and that means things like voting. We are all tired. But we have to keep going. There is, ultimately, no sitting out. People who opt out of voting still must live under the social climate and policies imposed by the person who gets elected, and who they endorse and empower and appoint, and who those people empower and appoint, and so on.

This post doesn’t have a good conclusion. I didn’t write it thinking about what would make for a satisfying structure in general. But if you read it, then thank you for reading.

#us politics #catie talks

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anamericangirl · 2 months

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My favorite thing about the ruling that you can't take Trump off the ballot is all the liberals on Twitter saying "The supreme court ruled to take our freedoms away." I like how they literally think, LITERALLY, that being told you can't vote for a politician is a "freedom" and isn't, you know, taking freedom away.

You know people are brainwashed fucking idiots when they are calling it anti-freedom when they're not having their freedom taken away.

I can't even find the words for it, it drives me insane.

"What do you mean you're taking off my leash!? You're taking away my ability to walk where I want!"

"That's what a leash does, it takes away your ability to walk where you want. I just took it off of you. Thus giving you freedom to walk where you want."

"And how am I supposed to walk where I want without my leash and my master telling me where to walk!?"

It really is astonishing the words they use to describe people having the option to vote for Trump.

We can just add freedom to the ever growing list of words liberals can't use correctly. Every tantrum they throw and every argument they make just boils down to "I don't like this so it being allowed to happen is destroying freedom and democracy."

No sorry left wing lunatics but a candidate you don't like being on the ballot does nothing to your freedom.

They literally want to control every aspect of everyone's lives and they call us fascists.

#anon #answered

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bridenore · 30 days

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HD longer fics recs : 90k to 100k words

Here are a few recs for fics ranging between 90k and 100k words.

You can see my recs for fics that have more than 200k here, between 150k and 200k here, between 125k and 150k here and between 100k and 125k here.

Allegiance and Sedition by SilentAuror [98k]

The war is in its fifth year, and Harry finds himself caught up in the confusion of friend versus enemy, spy versus traitor.

At Your Service by @faith2wood [95k]

Hogwarts students are in danger; Harry is determined to save them all. There’s only one thing he knows for certain: Draco Malfoy is somehow involved.

Balance, Imperfect by @bixgirl1 [91k]

When Harry sustains an injury in the line of work, he no longer knows how to navigate the life he loved, and finds help and solace from the most unexpected source.

A Case of You by @epitomereally [97k]

Draco was doing just fine working as an Unspeakable in Paris, hanging out with his living and ghostly pals, inventing new spells, and definitely not thinking about Potter. Then, Lucius just had to break out of prison and turn his world upside down. Now, Draco has to return to England, where he is forced to confront how family ties bind us—and one infuriatingly fit Harry Potter.

Chasing Dragons by @the-sinking-ship [98k]

Draco can think of only one way to outclass his pleat-front-khaki-wearing politician ex, and that’s by making headlines with an obvious upgrade. And who better to upstage the cheating bastard than the Saviour of the World, Harry Potter himself? Sure, Potter is a little rough around the edges in ripped jeans, a rumpled tartan shirt, and a permanent scowl. Draco reckons a haircut and a shave wouldn’t hurt, either. But Potter is also in need of a Healer willing to keep his secrets, and Draco is just the man for the job. It’s a perfectly reasonable exchange. They need only attend a couple parties arm-in-arm, smile nicely for the paparazzi, and tolerate each other long enough to convince everyone they’re smitten. In return, Draco will keep Potter alive and in one piece. But it isn’t long before Draco realises he might be in over his head, because Potter is ten tonnes of trouble packed into a leather jacket, and seems keen on hurtling himself towards death on the back of a flying motorbike. And that says nothing of Potter’s penchant for fire-breathing beasts and things that bite. Ah well, at least they’ll have some fun while it lasts. After all, Draco always did like a bit of danger.

Firebond by Oakstone730 / @i-didnt-wanna-do-it [94k]

Draco is forced to tutor Harry in potions. A slight problem occurs.

Helix by Saras_Girl [92k]

Seven months after the end of the war, Harry is feeling lost. Fortunately, he is about to be offered an unexpected and sparkling chance to find himself again. [2014 advent fic]

Hermione Granger’s Hogwarts Crammer for Delinquents on the Run by @waspabi [93k]

‘You’re a wizard, Harry’ is easier to hear from a half-giant when you’re eleven, rather than from some kids on a tube platform when you’re seventeen and late for work.

How I Met Your Father by @dracogotgame [95k]

Harry sits his kids down and tells them a story. A very long story.

How To Train Your Malfoy by @fencer-x [93k]

Good manners dictate that, when one’s best friend Apparates onto one’s doorstep holding the unconscious, haggard body of the schoolyard bully and begging for sanctuary, one ought to invite the two of them in for a cup of tea. Harry Potter sometimes wishes he weren’t so polite.

I Am Not Who I Became by mab_di [93k]

Draco left England after the trials and has travelled the world meeting wizards and Muggles from different cultures and with vastly different relationships to magic, each other, and the natural world. Now he’s a fisherman in Finland on commercial vessels. Harry has been struggling since the war and has become a recluse while trying to write his autobiography. An invitation to the Hogwarts class of 1998’s 15th reunion isn’t welcomed by either of them, but neither could predict how the night, and their reunion, will upend their lives.

Light up the Night by Saras_Girl [98k]

This year, despite his better judgement, Harry’s love life is going off with a bang. Advent fic 2019.

Season of the Spirit by Saras_Girl [95k]

It starts with a swan. What happens after that is a bit of a mystery. 2018 advent story.

The Silent World Within You by @femmequixotic and @noeeon [95k]

Harry only wanted Malfoy for one night, one birthday. It wasn’t meant to be anything more.

Tempus Fugit by Poison Pen [90k+]

A monumental cock-up in Potions means that Harry and Draco have more to contend with than mutual enmity. A journey of discovery, self-reflection and love.

Who we are in the shadows by @quicksilvermaid [99k]

What happens when you’re forced to become the very thing you despise? Ex-Auror Harry Potter, tossed out of the Ministry for something he had no control over, has been looking for a way back to his former life. When he comes across Draco Malfoy in the criminal underbelly of Wizarding London and in need of protection, Harry figures bringing him in to face the Ministry’s justice is his ticket back to everything he’s lost. But nothing is exactly as it seems. Not even Harry himself. And as he gets drawn further and further into Malfoy’s world of honour and deception he finds himself questioning everything he thought he knew—about his childhood nemesis, the Ministry job he misses so much, and most of all, about himself. What happens when you’re forced to see that you were wrong?

I hope you enjoy these stories as much as I did!

#my recs #drarry #drarry recs

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moeitsu · 22 days

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Song Lyrics That Remind Me of Arthur Morgan

Nobody asked for this, but I listen to A LOT of music, and this boah is constantly on my mind 24/7. So I thought I'd share some lyrics that remind me of him and his relationships <3

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Hard Believer - First Aid Kit

"So you ask for my opinion. Well, what is there to say? To be honest and just foolish, won't make you wanna stay. You've got to go on and get moving. And I can't do that for you. Got so many plans and so much you wanna do. Love is tough, time is rough on me."

To a Poet - First Aid Kit (Mary & Arthur)

"You said, 'Don't give me nothing you don't wanna lose.' I said, 'Darlin' I'll give you everything I got, if you want them to choose.' Though unwillingly I left and it was so, so hard to do. Now I miss you more than I can take and I will surely break. And every morning that I wake, God, it is the same."

Afraid of Heights - Boygenius (Dutch & Arthur)

"I know I fucked up when I told you I'm afraid of heights. It made you wanna test my courage. You made me climb a cliff at night. You wanted me to jump and I declined. You called me a coward, I replied, I don't wanna live forever, but I don't wanna die tonight."

My Silver Lining - First Aid Kit

"I don't know if I'm scared of dyin', but I'm scared of living too fast, too slow. Regret, remorse, hold on. Oh no I've gotta go. There's no starting over, no new beginnings, time races on. You've just gotta keep on keeping on."

Sun Bleached Flies - Ethel Cain

"If they strike once, then you hit 'em twice as hard. But in the end, if I bend under the weight that they gave me, Then this heart would break and fall twice as far. We all know how it goes, the more it hurts, the less it shows. But I still feel like they all know, and that's why I could never go back home."

Saviour - George Ezra (Mary & Arthur)

"Time was young and you were mine. Take me back to that midnight moon. Cradle me, at that midnight moon. All of me is all for you, and what I got to give is not enough. It's a dark night. Being your own savior, is it saving you?"

Cowboy, Gangster, Politician - Goldie Boutilier (Mary & Arthur)

"We said goodbye, but it never ends. 'Cause you can't get away from a woman who loves you. 'Cause you can't run away from feelings that haunt you. No, you can't separate a fire from a flame that already burns. Every saints a sinner, we all have our past. Forever is a fiction, nothing lasts."

Let Him Fly - Patty Griffin (Mary Gillis-Linton)

"Ain't no talking to this man, ain't no pretty other side. Ain't no way to understand, the stupid words of pride. It would take an acrobat, and I already tried all that so, I'm gonna let him fly. You know the light has left his face, but you can't recall just where or why. So there was really nothing to it, I said I'm gonna let him fly."

The Chain - Fleetwood Mac (Dutch & Arthur)

"And if you don't love me now, You will never love me again. I can still hear you saying, we would never break the chain. Run in the shadows. Damn your love, damn your lies."

Devil's Resting Place - Laura Marling

"I've been with the devil in the devil's resting place. Water won't clean you, you only hold yourself to the things you do. Come up here to speak to me and hold your face to mine. Any man can hold my gaze has done his job just fine. You sold your life away to be with me tonight. Hold your head against my chest, I think you'll be just fine."

Through the Valley - Shawn James

"I walk through the valley of the shadow of death. And I fear no evil because I'm blind to it all, and my mind and my gun they comfort me. Because I know I'll kill my enemies when they come. Surely, goodness and mercy will follow me all the days of my life. And I will dwell on this earth forevermore. Well, I came upon a man at the top of a hill. Called himself the savior of the human race. Said he'd come to save the world from destruction and pain, but I said, how can you save the world from itself?"

Youngest Daughter - Superheaven

"It's useless, I tried, but to no avail. To tell you how much I know, how much I care. Breathe until your lungs fail, you can sing 'til you go deaf. I am sick, I am horrified at everything I hear. Everyday repeats itself again, the cycle of our misery, It drives us all insane."

The Fall - Gregory Alan Isakov (John & Arthur)

"You heard blood was thick, brothers and sisters. But ya don't know where anybody's at. Time was a bust, you thought you'd better be tough. Nobody gets past the trembling wire. All eyes on you now, on you. We're all holding our breath."

Second Chances - Gregory Alan Isakov (John & Arthur)

"I'm running from nothing, no thoughts in my mind. Oh my heart was all black but I saw something shine. Thought that part was yours, but it might just be mine. I could share it with you, if you gave me the time. I'm all bloody knuckles, longing for home. If it weren't for second chances, we'd all be alone."

My Mind - Paris Paloma (Dutch & Arthur)

"What did I do wrong? Will you tell me what I did wrong, what did I? Was it a first offense? How long had you been harboring that vemon? You could have used your words then, you wanted them to hurt and so I let them. Never would I beseech you, to endure what you put me through."

#arthur morgan #rdr2 #red dead redemption 2 #dutch van der linde #mary gillis #red dead redemption community #red dead fandom #arthur morgan rdr2 #arthur morgan x reader #rdr2 fanart #john marston

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andreafmn · 5 months

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12 Days of Ficmas ❅ Day 3

Word Count: 4.0K Paring: Tommy Shelby x Fem!Reader Prompt @12-days-of-ficmas: anonymous donor pays for the kids at your nonprofit to have a perfect Christmas. Wait, this handwriting looks familiar Warnings: mature language

Summary: For a little over half a decade, (Y/N) has run the Angel's Touch Foundation caring for children in need from all over Small Heath. But times are hard and money is tight, and all she wants is to give the children of her foundation the best Christmas. And an anonymous letter might just have all the answers she has been searching for.

A/N: goodness, I love angst a little too much. I think y'all might need to prepare for a christmas filled with just a tad of sad 🫣🫣

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Life in Small Heath had never been easy. Life in England had not been easy in general. At least not for the everyday man, much less for their children.

(Y/N) had dedicated her life to making sure no child went hungry in her town. With what little money her family had left her, she had started a foundation in their name to do just that. For a little over half a decade, the woman had seen to it that no child went hungry or homeless, especially during the holidays.

It had been hard to keep Angel’s Touch afloat for years. Keeping the foundation running smoothly required more money than was flowing in most of the time, but she somehow always pulled it off. She didn’t care if she went hungry herself for a couple of days or if she lived in the smallest apartment she could afford. All she wanted was to make sure no child went through the hardships that had been bestowed upon them with no fault to them. As hard as it was. She pulled through every year, and she would continue to do so for as long as she could.

That particular year had been particularly difficult, with their government funding being cut in almost half, a slow influx of donations, and the amounts of intakes growing (Y/N) didn’t know how they had even made it to December without more struggles.

“I don’t know how we’re gonna give the kids a good Christmas celebration this year, Margaret,” she sighed as she sat on her desk chair. “We’re barely making it as it is, and I don’t even know where we’ll get the necessary funding for next year.”

“Well, we could always ask…”

“So help me, Margaret, if you say what I think you’re gonna say, I’ll fire you right now,” (Y/N) warned. “I don’t care that you’re my closest friend and one of the only reasons I’m still standing.”

“I’m just saying, love. He could help,” Margaret shrugged as she placed a cup of tea before the woman. “But I understand why you don’t want to call him. We could try the church again. Grovel to the Father for some more donations. At least enough to give the kids a Christmas dinner.”

“Yeah,” she responded, ignoring the fact that her friend had tried to bring up the one man she had wanted nothing more than to forget. “I’ll try to call some family friends or try to kiss up to politicians and remind them or their re-elections. Maybe see if my brother has any money to spare. I just need to find someone with big and loose pockets for this month. Then, we can worry about next year.”

“You’ll find a way,” Margaret said with a comforting smile. “Somehow, you always do.”

“Just one year,” she begged. “All I want is for one year to go smoothly.”

“Oh, darling, we didn’t get into this business because it was easy,” the woman reminded her. “We do it so the children don’t suffer under someone else.”

“Right,” (Y/N) smiled. “For the children.”

“We’ll make it through, darling. Don’t worry your pretty little face.”

It was easier said than done, that much (Y/N) knew. She made more phone calls than she had ever done in her lifetime, trying her best to reach everyone and anyone who would listen. As Christmas day approached, she felt her time running short. Money poured in slowly, and it was spent twice as fast. At the rate they were going, it would have surprised her if all they could give the kids was a hot mutton stew.

But what (Y/N) didn’t know was that a higher power was in play. Something and someone she had no control over.

A week before Christmas, after receiving another shipment of donations of basic necessities, two of the children she housed ran after her down the halls. “Ms. (Y/N)!” they yelled as they ran. “Ms. (Y/N)!”

“Woah, Helen, William, slow down,” she chuckled softly. “You know there’s no running in the halls.”

“We’re sorry, Ms. (Y/N),” Helen smiled angelically. “But there was a postie outside. Left a package for you.”

“Yeah, he said it was urgent.”

The boy extended a pristine envelope sealed with the crest of England. “Alright, thank you, kids,” she smiled “Now, go on, darlings. Go get some lunch.”

Once the children were out of sight, (Y/N) hurried to her office. The envelope didn’t say who it was from, but her name was written on it in the most beautiful calligraphy she had ever seen. Inside the room, she put aside the box she was carrying and sat quickly by her desk to see what inside the letter was so urgent.

“Slow down, woman,” Margaret chuckled as the woman pushed her aside. “What do you have there?”

“I don’t know,” she said. “Helen and William gave it to me. Said a letter man had dropped it off, and it was urgent.”

“Looks quite official, doesn’t it? Does it say who it's from?”

“No. It only has my name.”

“Well, what are you waiting for?” Margaret smiled. “Open it already.”

“Alright, alright,” she chuckled as she pulled out her letter opener. The wax came off the paper easily and, inside, (Y/N) found two pieces of paper. But it was the one in front that caught her attention. “Oh, fuck.”

“(Y/N), such foul language,” Margaret laughed. “What is it?”

“Someone has donated sixty thousand pounds to the foundation,” she choked out. “Do you know what this means, Margaret?”

“Oh, fuck.”

“My sentiments exactly,” she laughed. “We are more than set for Christmas, Margaret. And not just the holidays. We’re set for next year!”

“Happy fucking Christmas,” the woman exclaimed. “Does it say who it’s from? We need to do something to honor whoever it was that decided to answer our prayers.”

“Uh,” she stammered as she looked for a name. “It doesn’t say.”

“Anonymous donor? I mean, people do get rather generous during the holidays.”

“Yeah, I just wish we could thank whoever it was,” (Y/N) said. “But, we have enough planning to do now. Christmas is in a week!”

“Don’t you worry, darling,” Margaret smiled. “Everything will be perfect.”

As her friend set off to work, making phone calls and ensuring deliveries, (Y/N) looked over the second paper in the envelope. There wasn’t a name there either, but she recognized the lettering far too perfectly. In a handwriting that she wished she had forgotten the words: Happy Christmas to you and the children.

At that moment, she wanted to break down. It had been years since she had spoken to him, much less heard a word from him. Yet, somehow, when she needed him most, he appeared like a knight in shining armor. In a simple cheque, he had been able to resolve her biggest worry. All it took was the stroke of a pen, and all her problems had disappeared. It was just so easy for him.

But she couldn’t come undone. Not when there was so much to be done.

In the blink of an eye, seven days had passed, and the Angel’s Touch Foundation was preparing for a feast. Every single one of the kids had received their fair share of toys, clothes, and anything else they might have wanted. It was truly something out of a fairytale.

Their entire home had been decorated from top to bottom for the holidays. It made the children very excited to see the place filled with Christmas lights and decorations, and many a kid stopped to gawk at the massive tree that had been propped up at the foundation’s lobby. Everything was beautiful and perfect.

(Y/N)’s mind should have been focused on the kids and their happy faces. She should have been zoned into their reactions when they got to open presents that morning or their surprise when they were told what they’d be having for dinner. That’s what should have been running through her head.

Yet, since she had received that letter, only one thing lived in her mind. His name and his face swirled around in her brain like it was the only thought that mattered. It consumed her every waking moment and filled her dreams with images of him. She had done so well to avoid him for years, and with just a few words, he was all she could think about.

After dinner, while the kids all played and laughed a floor below, she found herself inspecting the piece of paper that had started her spiral. Maybe the longer she looked at it, something would happen. Maybe it would make him walk through the doors…

“Darling, you can’t spend the rest of the night locked up in here,” Margaret said as she walked in with two glasses of whiskey. “We’re supposed to be celebrating.”

“I am,” she smiled softly. “I just… it’s this letter. I haven’t stopped thinking about it.”

“There’s no point to dwell on it, dear. There’s no name.”

“I know who sent it.”

“What?” Margaret gasped. “So, there was a name?”

“No,” (Y/N) chuckled dryly. “I recognized the handwriting. Instantly, actually. And I haven’t been able to get it out of my head.”

“It was him, wasn’t it?” the woman inquired. “It was Thomas.”

“It was,” she sighed. “I just don't understand how he could have known. I haven’t seen him in years, and then he shows up out of the blue with this letter.”

“Darling, Small Heath is big but not big enough,” her friend mused. “Why don’t you go see him? It’s been long enough, don’t you think?”

“And say what, Margaret? That I ran away from our home, and he’s somehow still saving me? I… I can’t go see him.”

“But you want to,” she said. “And you know where he lives. Everyone does. So, just go to him.”

“He’ll turn me away.”

“It’s Christmas,” Margaret smiled. “He won’t turn you away on Christmas. Now, there’s a car waiting for you downstairs. So, go, love. Stop waiting around.”

(Y/N) didn’t know what had possessed her, but her legs moved faster than her brain could think. And before she knew it, she was in the black car headed toward Arrow House. She could have told the driver to turn back around at any second, proclaimed she had lost her mind, and the best thing she could do was sleep off the madness. But the car kept moving, and the distance became bigger. Then, the grandiose house was looking down on her, beaconing her closer and closer. Once she was out of the car, her decision was made for her. The only way was onward.

She knocked on the front doors, thinking there couldn’t possibly be anyone up at that hour. One second more, and she would have walked herself back home. Yet, the door opened wide, and an older woman opened the door. “Hello,” she smiled. “May I help you, dear?”

“Oh, um, perhaps you could,” (Y/N) stammered. “I was looking for Mr. Shelby.”

“Of course,” the woman said. “Come in. He’s just in his study.”

“This late into the night?” she questioned as she followed the woman inside. “I thought perhaps he would have already gone to bed.”

“Mr. Shelby keeps odd hours,” she explained. “But I think you knew that if you yourself are coming at this hour.”

“Right,” (Y/N) chuckled. “I guess if he had been asleep, I could have used that as an excuse to leave.”

“He was expecting you earlier in the week, Ms. (Y/L/N). But I guess you were quite busy with Angel’s Touch.”

The woman’s words stopped her in her tracks. “You know who I am?” she asked. “And you knew I’d be coming?”

“Of course, I know who you are. It’s my job to know,” she smiled. “Well, we’re here.” She knocked on the door before them and opened it ever so softly. “Mr. Shelby?”

“Yes, Frances?”

“Ms. (Y/L/N) has arrived.” Frances beckoned the woman inside, and she did as told. “I’ll leave you to it, then.”

(Y/N) heard his voice before she saw him, and she felt shivers running down her body. His head snapped toward her the second he heard her name, and the cigarette he had just lit threatened to fall out of his mouth as he stared.

They stood there in silence for what felt like an eternity, wondering if the image before them was a hallucination like the ones they’d had before. Maybe they were scared. Maune they thought the second one of them moved, the other would disappear.

“(Y/N).” Tommy was the first to speak. But his voice was so low it was almost as though he hadn’t, almost like he had said it as a prayer. “You’re here.”

“Yes,” she breathed, her heart fluttering against her chest and threatening to jump outside of her body. “I came to thank you for your very generous donation.”

“Ah, so Angel’s Touch is yours,” he said nonchalantly as his demeanor changed to the mask he always wore. “I was simply trying to do a good deed this Christmas. The name of the foundation sounded familiar, but I had no way of knowing you were the one running it.”

“You don’t have to pretend, Tommy. You already knew it was,” (Y/N) commented as she took a tentative step toward him. “Why now? After all these years, why have you reached out now?”

“I have no need to pretend,” he announced as he filled a glass with whiskey. “I was truly just doing a good thing.”

“Right,” she conceded. “Well, I’ll simply thank you then. And since you did not leave a return address I had to come personally to give my gratitude. Your donation has changed the lives of many children.”

“Good. That’s what I wanted.”

“Alright then. I guess I’ll see myself out. Since you were only doing a generous thing.” (Y/N) turned, fully determined to walk out the doors and leave him with the same indifference with which he was treating her. But she couldn’t walk away. Not again. “Oh, cut the fucking bullshit, Tommy, and give me a real answer. Why now? I can only assume you’ve always known where I was. So, why did you reach out now?”

Tommy’s eyes found hers, and she swore she could have died at that very moment. She was sure in the infinite blue of his eyes, she could see the love he used to have for her, the love that had died after he had come home from the war. “I reached out because I heard you were in need of donations. Truly,” he explained. “I was going to hand deliver the cheque myself. Even went by the building.”

“I didn’t see you.”

“But I saw you, (Y/N). And I realized there was still so much anger and resentment buried that I decided to send it through the post. Because regardless of how I feel, those children deserve a better life than they were given,” he said defeatedly. His shoulders had fallen and she was starting to see the broken man behind the mask. “Yet, I still wrote that note, and I knew it would bring you around sooner or later.”

“For what, Tommy? Why did you want me to come here?”

“Because I need a fucking explanation!” the man exclaimed, slamming his hands on his desk. “You fucking disappeared as soon as I came home from the war. In the middle of the night. You took your things, and you fucking left. Like I meant nothing to you. And you have the gall to stay in Small Heath. Hidden, but still there. Why, (Y/N)? ‘Cause it wasn’t just me you left. You left the entire family.”

“You’re joking, right? You truly have no idea why I left?” As she was met with silence, (Y/N) couldn’t help but laugh. She crossed the room as she did, staring out the window because it was easier than looking him in the face. “You were a completely different man when you came home. At first, I told myself it was normal. That the things you had seen in the battlefield would have haunted you ‘til the day you died. But then, there were things that could not be attributed to the war.

I know you used the opium to help with your Shell Shock, and I tried. I tried to be okay with it because I truly believed you needed it, Tommy. But you’d be worse after. The nightmares still overtook you and your behavior… well, long gone was the man that used to make me laugh,” she sighed, wrapping her arms across her chest. “And, up to that point, I would have put up with it all because I loved you more than I loved myself. But then, you brought women into our bed. Maybe you thought I hadn’t noticed, or you believed I would keep my mouth shut and let you do as you pleased. Maybe I did wrong by you for allowing things to get to that. Still, I had not expected you to ever raise your hand at me, Tommy.”

“(Y/N),” she heard him call.

“I can understand that you were drunk. Pissed out of your mind with the whiskey and the drugs. But I had told you how my father had treated my mother, and you had promised that you would never stoop that low.” She could feel the tears start to form in the corners of her eyes, threatening to fall down her cheeks in ugly black streaks. “That was the night I decided I would leave because I could not live in a house with a man I was afraid of. I told Polly what my plans were, and she helped me. She gave me enough money to go back to my brother’s, and she promised to keep my secret. I don’t want to think of what would have happened if I had stayed.”

“You know I would have never hurt you, (Y/N).” She could tell his voice was closer but cautious. It was the first time they had spoken, the first time they had gotten answers, and he was not about to lose his chance to understand it all. “I must admit, the man that came back from the war was not the man that left for it. I don’t think such a man even exists. But I would have never hurt you.”

“How can you be so sure, Tommy? You swore that you would have never raised your hand at me, and you did. How far could a strike be? Or perhaps a push or a shove? That’s how it starts,” she shrugged sadly. “If I had stayed… I couldn’t have stayed. It would have ruined us both. I mean, look how well you’ve done for yourself. This house, your business, I’d say everything worked out well for you.”

“It didn’t,” he sighed, stepping even closer. She could feel his presence behind her, looming over her. She could feel the warmth from his body even as the cold from the winter seeped in through the window. “There’s always been something missing.”

“I heard you got married,” she said. “Even got a little boy. I’d say that’s more than enough.”

“My wife is dead. And though, yes, I still have my child, you know what I’ve been missing.”

“You loved her,” she continued. “If love was what you were missing, you had it.”

“That is not what I meant, and you know it, (Y/N).”

“You gave your heart to another. That’s what I know.”

“How could I ever give something that wasn’t there anymore? Something that was taken many years before.” Tommy’s chest was pressed against her back, rising and falling at a dangerous pace. His hands ran up her arms, his touch so soft she thought it was a ghost. But he was there. She could feel his breathing on her neck, feel his heartbeat through his chest. Tommy was there, and she could not deny it. “I’m sorry, (Y/N). The last thing I ever wanted was to lose you.”

“I didn’t want to go, Tommy. You have to believe that,” she sighed as she leaned into his touch. “I didn’t want to, but I had to.”

“I know, but you’re here now. You’ve come back to me,” he whispered in her ear. “Please tell me you’ve come back to me.”

“I can’t go through that again, Tommy. The children at the foundation depend on me, the workers… I cannot go back to the woman I was. I lost myself in you, Thomas Shelby. And if I did that again, I don’t know how I could survive.”

Tommy kissed her neck unexpectedly, savoring her skin as he had done many years before. He breathed her in and sank into the familiarity of her body. He remembered her softness and her warmth, he remembered every curve of her body and the way it would react. He remembered how it had felt to have her belong to him.

But (Y/N) also remembered how lost she had been without him at the start. Being with him meant losing a part of herself. It meant she would no longer be (Y/N) (Y/L/N). She would be Tommy Shelby’s girl. And she didn’t know if she could go back to that. Not when she had done so much to be the woman she was.

Yet, the feeling of his lips on her reminded her of the moments they had been happy. They had been young and in love, and even if they had less, they felt the richest they could have been. His hands reminded her of a time when she had not been afraid of him, when his touch was a welcomed solace and not a dark premonition. It all reminded her of the life they believed they could’ve had.

“Tommy,” she whispered as his kisses became feverish. “Tommy, wait.”

“What?” he groaned. “We’ve waited long enough.”

“If we were to do this, if we were to be in each other’s lives, we need to take things slow,” she said. “I cannot jump into these waters headfirst. I need time.”

“Time,” he chuckled softly. “Time is something we’ve had so much of.”

“And I need more of, Tommy. Please.”

“Alright,” Tommy conceded. And though he wanted to be more annoyed, all he could feel was compassion. “At least stay the night. It’s late, and it’s Christmas. You shouldn’t be out on the road.”

“If this is another ploy to get me into your bed, Mr. Shelby,” she chuckled, turning to look him in the eyes finally. Those icy blue eyes that had always haunted her.

“It’s not,” he smiled. “I can have an entire room set up for you if that’s what you’d prefer.”

“It takes trust, doesn’t it? And it’s already a cold night, I wouldn’t want to freeze until morning.”

With a warm smile on his face, one he hadn’t remembered he could muster, he took (Y/N) in his arms. “Happy Christmas, (Y/N),” he said. “I do hope it was a good one.”

“Well, I certainly haven’t had better in a while,” she chuckled. “But I know it’s the best one Angel’s Touch has seen.”

“The best one yet.”

“Right,” (Y/N) said. “I guess all we needed was a true angel’s touch.”

“I’m no angel, darling. I’m more of a god.”

“I can see the sense of grandeur hasn’t died down,” she chuckled as she leaned into his touch. They walked through the quiet house in each other’s arms, forgetting the past years, forgetting their absence in each other’s lives. They were simply present at that moment, and that moment only. “But I don’t think there’s anything I could do to thank you for what you’ve done.”

“Well, there are a few things I have in mind.”

“Very cheeky, Mr. Shelby,” she grinned. “But that’s not happening any time soon.”

“A man can only hope,” he laughed. “But I’ll take what I can get. As long as you promise you’ll still be here in the morning.”

“I promise, Tommy. I’m not going anywhere.”

Next ->

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stellanix · 1 month

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something i saw once that has stuck with me ever since was a comment on a post about some scientific discovery made by the mars rover perseverance that said "why are we wasting time looking at rocks when we should be preparing for colonization?

another comment was on a post about the environmental issues surrounding the spacex launch site in southern texas, which said "human expansion to mars delayed to protect some turtles"

and comments like these perplexed me. space is a subject of science, and people interested in space are always talking about the wonders of the unknown, and how many fascinating and beautiful things are out there. so how could people interested in space be so fundamentally uncaring and incurious not only about the places they're supposedly interested in, but about nature in general?

it's not just random people in twitter replies who are like this. elon musk once posted this picture:

thing is, that's not mars, that's the moon during a lunar eclipse (when sunlight tinted red after passing through earth's atmosphere lights up the moon in earth's shadow). you'd think that someone known for wanting to bring people, himself included, to mars would care enough about mars to at least know what it looks like, but apparently not

he also rather infamously says he wants to nuke the ice caps of mars to warm the planet up. the ice caps of mars look like this, by the way (image credit: ESA/DLR/FU Berlin/Aster Cowart):

they are beautiful places, that hold an irreplaceable scientific record of the geologically recent martian climate, and are shaped by unique processes. there's no other place quite like them in our solar system. but elon musk thinks we should nuke them. again, no care, no curiosity

nothing has made me feel jaded and cynical about the entire enterprise of spaceflight quite like learning that the people ultimately in charge of it and funding it don't give a shit about space. it's not just elon musk. space nerds love quoting kennedy's "we choose to go the moon" speech as inspiration, but kennedy is also on record saying "I'm not that interested in space" in a conversation where he was arguing to the nasa administrator that they should prioritize beating the soviets to the moon over space science. no curiosity, only a desire for geopolitical showmanship and maintaining hegemony. it's the same thing when many modern politicians only seem to care about space exploration as a way of keeping a technological lead over china

this leaves the people who do genuinely love and care about space in an awkward position. they basically have two choices: A) become jaded and give up on space exploration, or at least parts of it (abandoning human spaceflight but maintaining interest in robotic science missions, for example) or B) give in. work with military contractors. spout the jingoistic rhetoric that the politicians writing the checks want to hear, even if you don't believe it. go along with the colonialist ideology, the hypercapitalism, and the extractivism. sell your soul for pictures of mars and let your passions be exploited for the ends of powerful people who don't care

the sad reality is that our society only values those things deemed useful or profitable. we hear it all the time. the idea that schools should only teach things useful for jobs, that people who try to make a living in fields like art, the humanities, or philosophy are all getting useless degrees and will inevitably end up stuck working retail, and of course, the idea that space exploration is a waste of time and money

space nerds are often deeply insecure about their greatest passion, because it's true, space exploration offers no immediate practical benefit. but they still love space and want to explore it

so they believe the lies. they repeat the colonialist ideology. they say there's money in mining asteroids, that we can terraform planets and let number go up forever. they let themselves be exploited by companies and governments that see everything in the universe and all the people in it as things to be used, and that will ultimately chew them up and spit them out if it's expedient to do so. and those who reject the ideology and keep their love for the cosmos pure often find themselves with no place in the project of space exploration

i don't know how to fix this, but i do hope that i will live to see the day when our curiosity and interest and love for the wider universe is valued for its own sake, and no longer shackled by colonialism, capitalism, and political ambitions

#space

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2goldensnitches · 29 days

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ngl since october i've been feeling very uneasy in fandom, like lots of other users in the ones im familiar in are propalestine which is fine until they start throwing dogwhistles around and reposting obvious misinformation about i/p and dehumanizing jews/israelis/zionists as if that does anything to help palestinians (meanwhile when politicians like biden actually try to help they're either ignored or accused of bizarre conspiracy theories that don't make sense with even basic knowledge about the conflict)

i was guilty of sliding down the rabbit hole myself bc i wasn't thinking critically, like oh, this blogger started reblogging some suspicious stuff like the "river to the sea" stuff but if i don't support it i'm Evil and Hate Palestinians so i reblogged it like the Good Tumblr User i wanted to be. i've had reservations about how weirdly people talk about israel, but they say its progressive and moral, and i fell for their words. in hindsight, i really should've known better than to take them at their word, and now i don't really reblog much about the conflict anymore bc holy shit people really showed themselves to be utterly vile about this conflict and i don't trust a lot of people here anymore

then people i thought were trustworthy started getting really mask off. one semi popular fandom account i followed reblogged jvp as a reliable source, but i later learned from browsing jumblr posts that jvp is actually really antisemitic and basically autism speaks for jews. and in addition they also reblogged stuff about how israelis are all Evil and don't deserve any sympathy for 10/7, which is just cruel. i couldn't associate w/ them in good faith any more. other fandom accounts i used to follow started reblogging some really stomach churning (but concerningly popular) posts such as one about how hamas treated the hostages "so well" and another about houthis supposedly attacking ships for palestine's sake. this and looking beyond my usual fandom circles really opened my eyes to just how toxic and ass backwards this was becoming, and how this kind of vitriol is spilling over into the real world and hurting jews while doing nothing to help palestinians or muslims affected by the concurrent rise in islamophobia. it's so nervewracking. now whenever i see fandom blogs post propalestine stuff w/ "river to the sea" in big letters i feel very wary that they might be hiding more dangerous prejudices under the surface. even those who do try to be more aware about the surge in antisemitism still can't help but put down israelis, dabble in conspiracy theories, and/or condescend to jews or occasionally their allies

honestly kudos to you for staying strong in these times. you're a lot braver than me and you and the rest of jumblr deserve better than this horror show

Thank you for the ask. I would just like to say that i don’t care if people support palestine and i don’t give a shit about the israeli government—i just want them to be normal about israelis and jews and not treat an actual war like team sports and fandomise this. Ideally people should want peace instead of thinking about innocent people in terms of a team they can root for while watching a match on the telly. Unfortunately, while the insanity didn’t start on social media, the current nature of the internet facilitated a really shit union between “activism” and fandom where more people are concerned about fictional antisemitic goblins than they are with real flesh and blood people doxxing jews and forming actual lynch mobs. They sloganeer for actual terrorist groups while ignoring the lives of palestinians and yemenis and lebanese and syrians and iranians directly impacted by them. All we can do is sit tight and hope more people come to their senses at least; if they don’t, then we shouldn’t waste time lamenting them.

#asks #israel hamas war

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sauntervaguelydown · 23 days

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TWO YEARS AGO, by a series of strange coincidences, I found myself attending a garden party at Westminster Abbey. I was a bit uncomfortable. It’s not that other guests weren’t pleasant and amicable, and Father Graeme, who had organized the party, was nothing if not a gracious and charming host. But I felt more than a little out of place. At one point, Father Graeme intervened, saying that there was someone by a nearby fountain whom I would certainly want to meet. She turned out to be a trim, well-appointed young woman who, he explained, was an attorney—“but more of the activist kind. She works for a foundation that provides legal support for anti-poverty groups in London. You’ll probably have a lot to talk about.”

We chatted. She told me about her job. I told her I had been involved for many years with the global justice movement—“anti-globalization movement,” as it was usually called in the media. She was curious: she’d of course read a lot about Seattle, Genoa, the tear gas and street battles, but … well, had we really accomplished anything by all of that?

“Actually,” I said, “I think it’s kind of amazing how much we did manage to accomplish in those first couple of years.”

“For example?”

“Well, for example, we managed to almost completely destroy the IMF.”

As it happened, she didn’t actually know what the IMF was, so I offered that the International Monetary Fund basically acted as the world’s debt enforcers—“You might say, the high-finance equivalent of the guys who come to break your legs.” I launched into historical background, explaining how, during the ’70s oil crisis, OPEC countries ended up pouring so much of their newfound riches into Western banks that the banks couldn’t figure out where to invest the money; how Citibank and Chase therefore began sending agents around the world trying to convince Third World dictators and politicians to take out loans (at the time, this was called “go-go banking”); how they started out at extremely low rates of interest that almost immediately skyrocketed to 20 percent or so due to tight U.S. money policies in the early ’80s; how, during the ’80s and ’90s, this led to the Third World debt crisis; how the IMF then stepped in to insist that, in order to obtain refinancing, poor countries would be obliged to abandon price supports on basic foodstuffs, or even policies of keeping strategic food reserves, and abandon free health care and free education; how all of this had led to the collapse of all the most basic supports for some of the poorest and most vulnerable people on earth.

I spoke of poverty, of the looting of public resources, the collapse of societies, endemic violence, malnutrition, hopelessness, and broken lives.

“But what was your position?” the lawyer asked.

“About the IMF? We wanted to abolish it.”

“No, I mean, about the Third World debt.”

“Oh, we wanted to abolish that too. The immediate demand was to stop the IMF from imposing structural adjustment policies, which were doing all the direct damage, but we managed to accomplish that surprisingly quickly. The more long-term aim was debt amnesty. Something along the lines of the biblical Jubilee. As far as we were concerned,” I told her, “thirty years of money flowing from the poorest countries to the richest was quite enough.”

“But,” she objected, as if this were self-evident, “they’d borrowed the money! Surely one has to pay one’s debts.”

It was at this point that I realized this was going to be a very different sort of conversation than I had originally anticipated. Where to start? I could have begun by explaining how these loans had originally been taken out by unelected dictators who placed most of it directly in their Swiss bank accounts, and ask her to contemplate the justice of insisting that the lenders be repaid, not by the dictator, or even by his cronies, but by literally taking food from the mouths of hungry children. Or to think about how many of these poor countries had actually already paid back what they’d borrowed three or four times now, but that through the miracle of compound interest, it still hadn’t made a significant dent in the principal. […]

But there was a more basic problem: the very assumption that debts have to be repaid. Actually, the remarkable thing about the statement “one has to pay one’s debts” is that even according to standard economic theory, it isn’t true. A lender is supposed to accept a certain degree of risk. If all loans, no matter how idiotic, were still retrievable—if there were no bankruptcy laws, for instance—the results would be disastrous. What reason would lenders have not to make a stupid loan?

[…] For several days afterward, that phrase kept resonating in my head. “Surely one has to pay one’s debts.” The reason it’s so powerful is that it’s not actually an economic statement: it’s a moral statement. After all, isn’t paying one’s debts what morality is supposed to be all about? Giving people what is due them. Accepting one’s responsibilities. Fulfilling one’s obligations to others, just as one would expect them to fulfill their obligations to you. What could be a more obvious example of shirking one’s responsibilities than reneging on a promise, or refusing to pay a debt?

It was that very apparent self-evidence, I realized, that made the statement so insidious. This was the kind of line that could make terrible things appear utterly bland and unremarkable. This may sound strong, but it’s hard not to feel strongly about such matters once you’ve witnessed the effects. I had. For almost two years, I had lived in the highlands of Madagascar. Shortly before I arrived, there had been an outbreak of malaria. It was a particularly virulent outbreak because malaria had been wiped out in highland Madagascar many years before, so that, after a couple of generations, most people had lost their immunity. The problem was, it took money to maintain the mosquito eradication program, since there had to be periodic tests to make sure mosquitoes weren’t starting to breed again and spraying campaigns if it was discovered that they were. Not a lot of money. But owing to IMF-imposed austerity programs, the government had to cut the monitoring program. Ten thousand people died. I met young mothers grieving for lost children. One might think it would be hard to make a case that the loss of ten thousand human lives is really justified in order to ensure that Citibank wouldn’t have to cut its losses on one irresponsible loan that wasn’t particularly important to its balance sheet anyway. But here was a perfectly decent woman—one who worked for a charitable organization, no less—who took it as self-evident that it was. After all, they owed the money, and surely one has to pay one’s debts.

Debt, the First 5000 Years

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