What Do You Mean 244 And Seongjoon Spent One Month Together On The Ship And Seongjoon Probably Wore

happy pride month!

Hearing has started, China is up first but I missed the beginning of it

Homeland Security Admits It Tried to Manufacture Fake Terrorists for Trump

I finished my Rome book and have now begun one about Pompeii. I’m 65 pages in and I already love it: yes, it covers the volcano, but most of the book is about “this is what the town and daily life of it would have been like, actually.” Fascinating stuff. Things I’ve learned so far:

- The streets in Pompeii have sidewalks sometimes a meter higher than the road, with stepping stones to hop across as “crosswalks.” I’d seen some photos before. The book points out that, duh, Pompeii had no underground drainage, was built on a fairly steep incline, and the roads were more or less drainage systems and water channels in the rain.

- Unlike today, where “dining out” is expensive and considered wasteful on a budget, most people in Pompeii straight up didn’t have kitchens. You had to eat out if you were poor; only the wealthy could afford to eat at home.

- Most importantly, and I can’t believe in all the pop culture of Pompeii this had never clicked for me: Pompeii had a population between 6-35,000 people. Perhaps 2,000 died in the volcano. Contemporary sources talk about the bay being full of fleeing ships. Most people got the hell out when the eruption started. The number who died are still a lot, and it’s still gruesome and morbid, but it’s not “an entire town and everyone in it.” This also makes it difficult for archeologists, apparently (and logically): those who remained weren’t acting “normally,” they were sheltering or fleeing a volcano. One famous example is a wealthy woman covered in jewelry found in the bedroom in the glaridator barracks. Scandal! She must have been having an affair and had it immortalized in ash! The book points out that 17 other people and several dogs were also crowded in that one small room: far more likely, they were all trying to shelter together. Another example: Houses are weirdly devoid of furniture, and archeologists find objects in odd places. (Gardening supplies in a formal dining room, for example.) But then you remember that there were several hours of people evacuating, packing their belongings, loading up carts and getting out… maybe the gardening supplies were brought to the dining room to be packed and abandoned, instead of some deeper esoteric meaning. The book argues that this all makes it much harder to get an accurate read on normal life in a Roman town, because while Pompeii is a brilliant snapshot, it’s actually a snapshot of a town undergoing major evacuation and disaster, not an average day.

- Oh, another great one. Outside of a random laundry place in Pompeii, someone painted a mural with two scenes. One of them referenced Virgil’s Aeneid. Underneath that scene, someone graffiti’d a reference to a famous line from that play, except tweaked it to be about laundry. This is really cool, the book points out, because it implies that a) literacy and education was high enough that one could paint a reference and have it recognized, and b) that someone else could recognize it and make a dumb play on words about it and c) the whole thing, again, means that there’s a certain amount of literacy and familiarity with “Roman pop culture” even among fairly normal people at the time.

i actually want to hit lala with a truck

If you’re outside the US and want to help, here are ten things you can do to protect ICWA, Indigenous children, and Tribal Sovereignty as a whole.

Share information about ICWA, Brackeen v Haaland, and Tribal Sovereignty

Share information about rallies, protests, and strategy meetings

Share the donation information of organizations that are fighting to protect ICWA

Donate to those organizations to help them continue to fight

Share the stories of Indigenous adoptees, survivors of residential schools, and the families involved in Brackeen v Haaland

Follow @protectICWA on twitter for live updates

Educate yourself on Tribal Sovereignty, residential schools and the 60s scoop, and cultural genocide as a tool of genocide.

Educate yourself on MMIP/MMIWG2S and familiarize yourself with the tactics those against Tribal Sovereignty use to undermine us.

Learn exactly who is fighting to get rid of ICWA and why. Hint: Gibson Dunn (representing the Brackeens) is the same law firm that supported the Dakota Access Pipeline (DAPL) Now I wonder who benefits from slowly but surely removing Indigenous people from our lands? 🤔

Uplift Indigenous voices that are speaking out and speaking up on ALL platforms. Tell your friends, tell your family, and show up to support us if you can. If ICWA is struck down, we will not be going without a fight. Be prepared.

This linktree has tons of information about ICWA, why it is important, what’s at stake, and what you can do to help. Even simply sharing an article link from here to 10 followers that go on to share to their 10 followers can help!

Linktree

Protect ICWA | Twitter, Instagram | Linktree

Click to learn more about the Indian Child Welfare Act & why we must protect it.

Every Child Matters 🪶

americans, in dire times like this, please learn from the mistakes of poland.

in 2020, the constitutional tribunal of poland (similar to the supreme court) ruled that abortion in the case of fetal abnormalities is unconstitutional, effectively banning 98% of legal abortions in our country. poland already had the strictest laws in europe (save for malta), where abortion was only allowed in the case of rape/incest, fetal abnormalities or risk to mother’s life. this caused probably the biggest protests since 1989. even tiny, conservative towns marched in defense of abortion rights. at one point there was an estimated one hundred thousand people in warsaw protesting. police was beating people up on the streets, they broke a teenage girls’ hand. fascist nationalists used tear gas on people. this lasted for WEEKS.

back then it felt like maybe we are finally witnessing some change we hoped for for years, but it all fell apart. the leaders of this protest were generic liberals who were allied with the neoliberal center-right opposition and were riding off the wave of anti-government sentiments. soon it was became less about reproductive health and more about how we need to put the opposition back in power. mind you, the opposition and its supporters were largely for keeping this bogus “compromise” and went as far as silence anyone who wanted full liberalization as “too radical”. anything stronger than peaceful marches was discouraged as well - even the very famous chant “wypierdalać” (”fuck off”) was often considered too far.

soon these protests were completely changed into anti-government protests and while it was good to hate the ruling party, but it was conveniently used as a tool of the neoliberal center-right opposition. several months later they put that ban into place. the wave was already dying. there were some protests but all people did was yell in the streets for a bit and go home, because it was ~wrong~ to destroy property and say naughty words. soon a 30 year old woman died because she was denied abortion. doctors would not risk aborting her deformed fetus even if it was risking her life, even if it was technically legal - they were scared of going to jail on the basis of aborting a fetus with abnormalities. there were very little protests after that, even though we should have burned down the entire country for her. death of savita halappanavar, a very similar case, eventually caused the change of abortion law in ireland. in poland nothing happened after izabela died. on the anniversary of the protests, barely anyone attended. just yesterday a project of putting a 12 week abortion law in place was rejected.

all i’m saying, this is very very similar to the situation in america right now. democrats will try to tell you that they have their hands tied, that they can’t do anything, that you just have to vote harder. they will make roe vs wade about republicans vs democrats, about their petty struggle for power, while pregnant people will be dying in horrific suffering. they are liars. all they care about is staying in power. they hold every branch of the government but did nothing to codify roe vs wade. they are not your friends. do not let them do what polish opposition did here. don’t rely on them. don’t stop until they put roe vs wade back and codify it. destroy shit. make those supreme court cunts and other fuckers afraid.

I'm never forgetting the Palestinian babies that were left to starve to death then rot in their beds by the IOF.

I'm never forgetting the Palestinian doctors surrounded by bodies of dead children begging the world to stop the slaughter.

I'm never forgetting the Palestinian children who held a press conference in English to beg the world to stop murdering them because they want to live.

I'm never forgetting the Palestinian Priest who said "We will not accept your apology after the genocide" to the world.

I'm never forgetting the Palestinian Imam who used the speakers of the Mosque, not to call people to prayer but to call out to God while the world around them was burning from American supplied Israeli bombs.

I'm never forgetting the grandfather who held his dead grandchild in his arms. Or the father carrying the remains of his two children in plastic shopping bags. Or the mother holding her dead child in a shroud. Or the father sitting among the rubble after he lost his whole family. Or the girl trapped under a broken building begging for people to save her family first. Or the boy who cried when he saw his brother alive. Or the girl who asked if she was still alive after being pulled from the rubble. Or the boy who carried the remains of his brother in his backpack. Or the old man the IOF used for a photoshoot before they shot him dead after getting pictures. Or the little boy wearing plastic gloves to pick up the remains of his family. Or the graves desecrated. Or the body of that small baby girl left alone in a tent because no one knew who she was or if her family was alive, small and alone and not one person who knew her name to bury her. Or the young boy who was shot in the street while his sister watched from the window. Or the men and boys who were stripped naked in winter. Or those tortured. Or those made to stand in open graves. Or the people who were raped by IOF soldiers. Or Palestinian workers kidnapped by the IOF and then labeled with wristbands, each one reduced to a number, then made to walk back to Gaza to be killed in the world's largest open air concentration camp. Or the people of Gaza starving because Israeli Zionists are blocking aid trucks. Or the Israelis dancing and celebrating the death of Palestinians. Or the lies spread by Zionists and their supporters. Or the people profiting off the oppression and deaths of Palestinians. Or the people of the West Bank being killed or kidnapped by the IOF. Or old woman who was older than the creation of the terror state of "Israel" who was shot by snipers for saying that. Or the Israelis dressed up as Palestinians to enter a hospital and kill three Palestinians in their beds. Or every single Palestinian currently kept in an Israeli prison. Or the journalists, doctors, poets, men, women, children, and the unborn all massacred. Or the fact that WCNSF exists now. Or the woman who refused to wash the blood from her hands. Or the dead, unburied and unmourned.

I'm never forgetting those who chose silence in the face of a genocide.

I may not know all their names but I will not forget the over 30,000 Palestinians dead. Or the over 60, 000 people hurt. Or the unknown number of people missing, still lost under the rubble. Or the 12,000 children slaughtered. An entire generation crippled or murdered.

I will never forget these things when Palestine is free.

they are monologuing

Chain of Command Chapter 6

The elevator ride down was dead quiet. Forrest and Robin walked silently, faces turned towards the ground. She suspected that the two were embarrassed by the ordeal on the rooftop.

Standing at the doorway of the building was Grape, the pile of cigarette butts at his feet having doubled since she last saw him. She’d bumped into him on her way up to the rooftop, and she didn’t need to look at the ground to tell that he’d been stress smoking. The boy reeked of smoke. 

She’d regarded him with a click of her tongue and a small look of sympathy before rushing upstairs– she supposed hearing the words ‘Wolf Keum’ alone were already enough to give him a panic attack. Poor baby. 

“What did that fucker say?” Grape cut through the thick silence, returning to his position behind Forrest as he shoved his hands into his pockets, the expression on his face making it obvious that he only expected the worst. Not that she blamed him.

“The money and files got stolen.” Forrest informed him, and Grape nodded soundlessly. Had it been someone else he might’ve made a derisive joke, but he seemed to be worried that if he even opened his mouth, Wolf Keum would swoop down like an eagle and swallow him whole. Maybe he just didn’t want to take the risk.

The four of them continued to walk quietly, before Forrest Lee spoke again. Perhaps he’d wanted to break the silence, or perhaps he’d just been waiting till they were a safe distance away from Ganghak to talk. 

“So you’ll be working with that bastard from now on, huh Bambi?” Forrest glanced to the side to look at her, and she studied his face. He looked grim, though she thought she could spot a hint of relief too. He was probably just glad he didn’t have to face the Big Bad Wolf alone anymore.

“Yeah.” She slowed down as the quartet reached a bus stop, and the three boys stopped with her. Her bus was already there, slowing down as it reached the stop. “I’m gonna go now. Bye.” 

She barely heard the perfect sync of goodbyes from the boys as she turned around, long brown hair swishing behind her, and stepped onto the vehicle.

~

It’d been about an hour since this meeting had started, and Bambi was starting to get restless. The last sixty minutes, she’d been standing behind Donald’s armchair,  watching as he talked to the new client sitting across from them. 

The new business partner was another wrinkly man in his sixties with a failing business, desperate for Donald’s help. The news of KHG’s big break had spread through the grapevine, and now businessmen were swarming around Donald like he was the second coming of Christ. Because of that, they’d seen a pretty large increase in their commissions. What a blessed new year.

The old man seemed to be wrapping the meeting up now, sticking his hand out to Donald, both anxiety and excitement displayed on his face at the idea of all the money he was about to make. 

She didn’t pay further attention to any of the other words exchanged between the two, turning her focus instead to the clock on the wall (9pm) and both her mental and physical exhaustion. Thank God it’s finally over. Kingsley, who had stood by her side until now, followed the man on his way out to guide him downstairs, leaving Donald and Bambi alone behind him.

The room fell silent after the door snapped shut.

Bambi tapped her foot nervously.

Usually she preferred silence, but with Donald the quiet always felt suffocating. Like even breathing would make an avalanche of noise. Like there were a thousand thoughts running through his head at once, and she was missing out on every single one of them.

Donald didn’t seem to be bothered by the lack of noise though, standing up and making his way to the other side of the office wordlessly. Bambi leaned back to rest her body weight on the chair, watching as he stood in front of the large window, his hands clasped behind his back. 

Perhaps to a bystander, it may have seemed like he was admiring the view. But she didn’t need to look to know that he was watching her in the reflection, his red eyes trained on her like a hawk. Staying as still as possible under Donald’s gaze proved to be a challenge, and she found herself fiddling with her fingers anxiously as she forced herself to meet his gaze in the glass.

She felt like he knew that he was torturing her with his silence– like he enjoyed her attention, enjoyed watching her hang on to his every movement, waiting for more.

After all, all she wanted was to know him better.

Ever since she first joined the Union, she’d felt an unexplainable magnetic pull towards Donald Na. It was as if he were the sun, and she was just a small insignificant dwarf planet rotating around him. 

He had charisma, and what seemed like infinite confidence capable of making even her nervous. From the moment she’d first set eyes on him, she’d made it her lifelong goal to unravel the mystery of who Donald Na really was.

Plus, Donald was nice, which made it easier. Not nice in the way where he’d hold open doors for you or smile at you in the street, but where he’d make small talk and pretend to care about your personal life. Not that she was stupid enough to actually mistake this for friendship– he did this with everybody, even the executives he beat up. Just another thing that came built in with his alluring personality– but it opened up a door for her to actually know him. The person past the intimidating stare and massive displays of wealth that she now realised looked a lot like a form of protection.

She relished in the attention that he gave her, though admitting it made her feel somewhat embarrassed. It was like she’d deciphered a puzzle no one else could solve, except she was really only halfway to the answer– even after all the time they’d spent together, it still felt like she’d barely scraped the surface of who Donald Na really was. Well, she wasn’t gonna stop now.

No matter how much it went against her better judgement.

“It’s late. You should go home.” Donald had finally looked away from her, his attention turned to the streets below, and she felt a pang of jealousy. The tone he’d used was casual enough, but she knew the statement was more than a simple formality.

So, instead of saying her goodbyes, she walked towards his desk slowly, almost defiantly, fighting the urge to smile as his eyes finally left the window and followed her across the room till she was right behind him. 

Dragging out the silence, she spoke slowly. “What about you?”

Donald turned slightly at her question, and his red eyes glinted, as if he was amused by her deliberate slowed pace. Often, she went so quick everybody around her found it hard to keep up. But when it came to Donald, it felt like she had to go slow, or she’d miss out something essential and never catch up. She knew he knew it too.

She stopped herself from huffing. Not her fault being around him felt like walking in a minefield. He let out a small breath of air, deadpan expression melting into a smirk. She wanted to ask him what he thought was so funny.

“I have work to do.” 

Both pairs of eyes flicked down to the stack of files on his desk, and Bambi nodded in understanding. It wasn’t rare to see Donald working late into the night, a small frown on his face as he read through reports and legal documents, and who knows what else. Sometimes he fell asleep at his desk, head resting on his arms, a rare moment of vulnerability for someone as vicious as Donald Na.

“Would you like tea? Or coffee?” Bambi was already turning towards the door, though her eyes stayed fixed on him.

Donald smiled, tapping on his desk.

“Coffee will do.”