What really fucks me up about a 40 hour work week and I’ve tried to explain to people over and over is that like of you do the math you have maybe 3 hours every day to just like. Rest and be with your family. And that’s kind of it
Like the average adult needs about 8 hours of sleep every night, so that cuts your 24 hours to 16 right off the bat.
You’re working for 8 hours, so 8 left.
But you actually work 8 to 5 at most offices, not 9 to 5, and that lunch is basically just long enough to retrieve food and eat. 7.
It took you 20 minutes to shower this morning, 10 to get dressed, and 45 to make a bowl of oatmeal and eat it. We’ll say 15 to get your stuff together and out to your car. 5 and a half.
You get home and have to cook dinner, 30 minutes min for that, probably more like an hour, so somewhere between 5 and 4.5 hrs left. And then you’ve got to eat it, 30 minutes if you’re being healthy about it.
So at best you’ve MAYBE got 4/4.5 hours left every week day and that’s assuming you ran exactly zero errands, didn’t stop by the gym after work, didn’t have to stay late, have a wicked fast transition time between tasks AND a commute of like 5 minutes by car. If you have to go to the store after a quick run at the gym, pick your kids up from soccer across town, and you factor in a 30 minute commute both ways, you’ve got enough free time for like one episode of show Monday through Friday. And weekends have got to be for cleaning the house and going to visit your mom for a few hours.
When do you write, or paint, or read or sew or go on hikes? When do you go on spur of the moment adventures with your wife and try to perfect your grandma’s soda bread? What happens when it rains on Saturday after being sunny all the rest of the week so you can’t go to the zoo that day and you don’t have enough money for the museum? Why are we all just content to postpone our whole lives, put off “happy” and “healthy” for a miniscule amount of extra value we’re producing for someone else?
And it’s also a thing that fascinates me about hustle culture like. When do y'all rest? When do sleep and food happen? How do you make 3 different jobs work without dying?
Idk idk like I said I’m real fucked up about it. It amazes me that more office workers aren’t great big socialists because we have this miserable job where we’re monitored constantly and just have to sit. Still. And maintain focus on ONE THING for EIGHT HOURS in a BORING GRAY ROOM with exactly two short breaks at designated times and I just?? How does that not suck for literally everyone else?? You said yourself, Angie, you’re useless after 3 pm so just?? Organize with me and negotiate for shorter days??? Like you’re literally already only producing 6 hours of value, you don’t need to be sitting there for longer than that.
…then add the Neurodivergent Tax of taking more time to do these things and recovery time afterward, and you’re looking at a deficit that has to come from somewhere
I saw a discussion of this on Twitter and honestly people defending hustle culture blow my mind. There were so many responses along the lines of “who needs 45 minutes for a bowl of oatmeal?!” and just… missing the point.
Of course you don’t need to take 45 minutes to cook a basic meal and eat it. You could hustle it. You could, say, “optimise” your lifestyle by taking time once a week to cook a batch of nutritious paste or whatever and just grab it out of the fridge each morning and stuff it into your mouth, chew while getting dressed, and be out the door in five minutes.
But is that any way to live? Did we, as a species, spend thousands of years developing the culinary arts and recipes so that most of the population could eat nutripaste each day?
Cooking is an art and a social activity, eating food is a social activity.
Hustle culture defenders are so ready to speedrun every aspect of their lives that doesn’t relate to work and it’s honestly horrifying. Why are you all content to just… not live?
hello hello i saw your cyrano post and you’re so right…cyrano stans are so few and far between so im here now on your page forever (hope you’re having a great day :))
thank you for giving me attention, for it is attention that I crave
lets stop producing gritty, stripped-down versions of cyrano de bergerac!! its SUPPOSED to be melodramatic and sweeping and grandiose and comical and absurd!! that’s where the appeal lies!! gimme a sixteenth century hat with a giant panache or give me death
i can't think of a witty caption but i spent a day losing it over this shirt. so
[ID: a full body drawing of juno steel from the penumbra podcast. he is a black person with short curly hair and an eyepatch. he's standing with his hip popped, his hands in his pants pockets, smiling slightly. he's wearing teal pants, high heels, and a black t-shirt with white text that says: "i flexed and the sleeves fell off". the sleeves of his shirt are notably present. he's colored monochromatically; in the first image he is in shades of grey, only the pants colored teal; in the second image he is entirely colored in shades of teal. /end ID]
I’m just super fucking bitter that once the flint water crisis got it’s 15 minutes of fame people stopped giving a shit. The water is still poisoned, people! Donations have plummeted and people have been forced back into drinking and bathing with the water! The medical effects of this are astounding, cases of legionnaires disease have skyrocketed, people are having seizures, people are having weird rashes break out over their body, people (including me!) are having their blood poisoned, and it’s not just lead! it’s coliform bacteria! it’s THMs! it’s all in the water and it gets into the bloodstream and breaks down blood vessels, causing bruising and petechiae and internal bleeding and no one gives a shit anymore and it’s only gotten worse like how many people are going to have to die until people realize this is still a problem
I would like to add that the people of Flint cannot sell their houses, because selling a house with leaded water is illegal. Additionally, households with children can’t stop paying for the water because living in a house without running water is cause for CPS to take their kids. Flint has been living this way for over two years.
The people of Flint are trapped by the legal system. And it is only the most high profile case out many cities with a similar problem.
Because the government has abandoned them, they are dependant on help from the outside. Donate here
My name is Mari Copeny, I’m a 12 year old from Flint, Michigan. You may know me as Li… LuLu Brezzell needs your support for Little Miss Flin
Mari Copeny has taken the initiative to create a water filter. I’ve linked her GoFundMe that’s she using to raise money for it. She’s been able to raise $50k in donations but her next goal is $1 million
Magnus is a private investigator, and Alec is a master thief. Obviously, they fall in love.
Rated T
Shoutout to @peachygos, @rainyhuman, and @arsenic-creator <3
Magnus sighs as he flicks through the file in his hand for what’s possibly the tenth time today, skimming over each page once again in a desperate attempt to find new information, new leads, new anything— as long as it’s something that will help the case. If Ragnor was here, he’d probably say something about the definition of insanity and doing the same thing over and over again yet expecting different results, and then Magnus would say something about shutting up, Ragnor, and the other would then laugh and hand the file over to him anyway. Besides, Magnus didn’t become a private investigator just to ignore his gut feeling, and he definitely didn’t become one to listen to other people. So he’s here now, hunched over his desk, sorting through pages that he can practically recite by heart.
By the eleventh pass, he’s starting to think Ragnor would’ve been right. Dammit, Magnus is never going to hear the end of this.
“Goddamned Morgensterns,” he swears under his breath. If only he’d turned Jocelyn down all those years ago, when she’d shown up at his doorstep with her little girl and begged for help. If only he’d told her no, then he wouldn’t be caught up between their murderous family feud, watching as the people around him die because he wasn’t able to connect the dots or find a clue fast enough.
God, who is he kidding? He never would’ve said no.
Magnus Bane saves people; it’s one of the worst things about him.
Fuck, he thinks, fuck. Curse his fucking hero complex, curse his fucking job, curse the day he tried helping Clarissa Fairchild. He’s always known it would come back to bite him in the ass.
Magnus exhales, and closes his eyes. Just one more time; he’s sure he’ll find something. He’ll look through the file one more time, and then call it a day. Whatever he finds, he’ll roll with it. Just one more time, he repeats to himself, which is exactly when his fingers stumble upon a slip of paper stuck in between the creases of an old newspaper clipping.
Hotel Dumont, the note reads, L.
“Oh,” Magnus says. His heart flutters as his eyes pass over the three words, once, twice, thrice, committing the messy scrawl to memory until it’s been imprinted behind his eyelids.
Hotel Dumont.
L.
He knew there was something of use in that file. He’s never going to let Ragnor hear the end of this.
--
The newspaper clipping that Magnus had found the note in was one detailing the illustrious career of Alexander Gideon Lightwood: former heir to the Lightwood fortune, now known amongst the upper class as the city’s most notorious thief. While there are quite a few fantastical urban legends about him, the most popular is that most of his “earnings” go to those in need, while another common one claims that he’s got a particular soft spot for detectives in gold eyeliner. Whatever you believe, it’s obvious he’s a terrible choice for a friend, partner, or anything really; he’s dangerous, reckless, untrustworthy, and Magnus is pretty sure he’s halfway in love with the guy.
“The man is a criminal, Magnus,” Raphael says at the front desk, frowning even as he hands over a room key. He leans over the desk and grabs Magnus’s hand. “Look, just don’t do anything stupid.”
Magnus accepts the key with a flourish and flashes a smile. “When have I ever, darling?” he winks, then abruptly turns around and walks down the line of doors before Raphael can respond.
They both know the answer to that question; especially when it comes to Alec.
He takes a deep breath as he approaches the room. It’s fine. He’ll be fine. He just has to hear out whatever Alexander has to say, speak his own piece, and then they’ll split ways, never to cross paths again. It’s a simple plan, and all he has to do to get it over with is open the door.
All he has to do is open—
“Planning to just stare at that key all day, Detective Bane, or are you going to come in anytime soon?” a voice says, and Magnus jolts backwards in surprise before looking up, because he’d know that voice anywhere, and oh, it’s Alexander, standing in front of him with his pale skin and warm eyes and smiling, and Magnus missed him so much, he wants to kiss his face senseless, he’s gorgeous and he’s lovely and he’s—
He’s—
Alec is. . . well, he’s, uh—
“Are you naked?”
Alexander rolls his eyes and opens the door to reveal that he isn’t, in fact, naked; but that isn’t to say that he’s not very close to it, with nothing covering his body other than a towel draped loosely around his hips, riding far too low for it to be doing anything in terms of modesty. In fact, it’s doing the opposite, really, and Magnus is finding it increasingly difficult to look at something that isn’t Alec’s chest.
Oh, god.
“Ah,” Magnus says after a long moment. Alec smiles knowingly and leans against the doorframe, which is not helping, Jesus Christ. “Well! You seem otherwise preoccupied. I’ll just, ahem, I can always come back at a more opportune time.”
He’s just about to pivot on his heel and vow to never return here again when a hand shoots out and grabs his arm, pulling him closer to the man in front of him. This close, he can see the small scar on Alec’s chin, the flecks of green in his eyes, the stray hairs sticking out behind his ear, and his breath hitches as Alexander brings his mouth even closer.
“Don’t worry about it, I was expecting you,” Alec murmurs, voice low and honey-sweet. “You just caught me right after a shower. Come in, I’ll get dressed.” He smiles when Magnus nods dumbly, then turns to head back in the room, treating the other to a full view of his bare shoulders as he moves.
Magnus swallows. He has a horrible feeling that he’s not going to survive this.
“So, Mr. Bane,” Alec starts once they’re inside. He hands Magnus a bottle of wine with a grin, and gestures to two glasses set up on a side table before he turns away. “What brings you here?” He fiddles with the hem of his towel teasingly as he walks towards a dressing screen set up in the corner of the room, and Magnus’s mouth goes dry with the implication of the movement.
No. He’s not thinking about it. He is not thinking about it. He is not thinking about it—
—and Alexander drops his towel to the floor before stepping behind the screen. Oh my god, Magnus is way too fucking sober for this. He’s going to die here, and it’s going to be Alec’s and Alec’s ass’s fault.
Fuck. He’s getting sidetracked.
“I got your message,” Magnus finally replies, coughing awkwardly and shifting his attention to the bottle in his hand. He pops open the cork as Alec hums from behind the partition.
“I didn’t think you’d come, even if you did find the note,” he calls across the room. “I don’t suppose you’re here to tell me you’ve solved the case I gave you earlier.”
Oh, right: Hodge Starkweather, missing persons case. Magnus had received a mysteriously blank envelope in the mail just a few days prior, containing nothing but a picture of the man, the name “Starkweather,” and an “L.” scrawled across the back; Ragnor had found the message pretty much immediately, and made Magnus swear he wouldn’t take the case.
Not that it helped.
“I did find your man, actually,” Magnus says, taking a deep breath. “He’s dead.” The shuffling from behind him stops abruptly.
“Oh.” Another moment passes. Magnus quietly pours wine into the glasses in front of him until he hears Alec clear his throat. “Alright, well, if this isn’t a business visit, what is it?”
“It’s an Alexander-please-leave-this-city-before-I-find-you-dead-in-a-ditch-somewhere visit,” Magnus replies, which makes Alec laugh as he steps out from behind the partition in tight black pants and a button-down shirt.
(Most assume he’d have more lavish tastes with the amount of money he’s acquired, but Magnus has always liked this toned-down version of him. Alec looks young like this, unaffected by the troubles that have touched him, like there’s a bit of foolishness and hope in him that the horrible world outside can never take away.)
“Well, that makes this a social visit, then,” he grins lopsidedly, in that way that makes Magnus want to reach out and touch his mouth with his fingertips, holding out a glass of wine in offering. “Do you really think I can’t take care of myself? This is hardly the first death threat I’ve faced, you know that.”
God, he’s so unbothered and careless about this— doesn’t he fucking get it? “This is different,” Magnus insists. “Please, Alexander, listen to me. Leave. Leave before they can find you,” he begs, but Alec stays unbothered.
“Magnus, it’s fine. Calm down, I’ll be okay.” He rolls his eyes when Magnus frowns, and holds his hand out further. “Have a drink, you’ll feel better,” he says, in a move that’s meant to be reassuring and Magnus just— he snaps.
“Fuck your drink!” he shouts, shoving Alec’s hand to the side. Liquid sloshes over the rim of the glass, staining the carpet, and Raphael’s going to throw a tantrum over it tomorrow and glare at him the whole time, but Magnus doesn’t care, he can’t care, not with so many more important things at stake right now, things that Alexander doesn’t seem to care about at all. “Your life is on the line! Your Robin Hood routine has worked great these past few years, but it won’t mean anything if you’re dead tomorrow, Alexander! I know you’re not afraid, but what if I am? I can’t—” He cuts off with a strangled sound and looks away.
“I can’t— I won’t be able to handle finding you like the others,” he murmurs.
Shit.
Shit, shit, shit, he wasn’t supposed to say that, it’s too honest, it’s too vulnerable, too open, and now Alec is staring at him, probably getting ready to laugh at him or tell him he cares too much or that he’s insane, and God, that’s always it, isn’t it? He’s always cared too much, and now he’s going to lose the one person who didn’t know that yet, who he hadn’t scared off with all of his stupid fucking baggage, because he messed it up, like he always does with everyone.
“Magnus,” Alec says.
Magnus’s mouth tightens as he continues to avoid eye contact. “Magnus, hey, look at me.” Gentle fingers cradle his chin, tilting his face upwards until his gaze meets Alec’s. There’s a warmth there that Magnus hadn’t expected to see, and it’s startling in how tender it is. Magnus has half a mind to look away again.
“You’ve always saved people,” Alec says softly, still holding Magnus’s jaw. “I’ve always loved that about you. But who saves you?”
Magnus blinks. “What?” he says, but Alexander shakes his head before he’s leaning in slowly, shifting his hand to cup Magnus’s cheek, and oh.
Something dislodges in Magnus’s stomach as he takes it all in: the softness of Alexander’s lips, the emotion he pours into each breath, the gentle exhale he lets out before pressing his mouth against Magnus’s again. It all feels like coming home, like his world’s been tilted on an axis his whole life and it’s finally clicked back into place with the gentle press of Alec’s lips on his.
“Alexander,” Magnus whispers. They’re still close enough that he can feel Alec’s errant little smile against the bridge of his upper lip, both of them unwilling to part further than necessary to breathe, and he reaches out to clutch at his shoulders when the other man leans in for a another small kiss, this one indulgent and sweet.
“If I leave,” Alec says, brushing his nose against Magnus’s, “I can’t save you.” He brings his other hand up to trace Magnus’s lower lip with his thumb. “You need someone to save you, Magnus. The same way you do with others.”
Magnus inhales shakily. “I’m sure I’ll be fine if I know you’re somewhere safe,” he replies, but Alexander shakes his head again.
“You won’t. And I can’t leave you here,” he murmurs. He presses their foreheads together and runs his hand against Magnus’s cheek. “Let me help you, for once.”
Magnus sighs. He thinks about the people he’s lost in these few weeks, the guilt that’s been eating him alive from the inside-out everytime he thinks about them, but he knows Alec won’t leave, the same way Magnus wouldn’t have left if the roles were reversed. They’ve always been like that: looking out for each other. Saving each other. Magnus was foolish to think Alexander would leave now.
“Okay,” he says, and Alec’s face lights up. “Okay.”
“Good.”
He intertwines their fingers, and they stand there for a moment, breathing each other in, until Alec’s smile turns playful. “Now, I had this super sexy plan that involved a lot more of that towel to seduce you into that bed there, just because it seemed like the sort of thing to do,” he says, “but what do you say we just take a nap?”
Magnus laughs. They both don’t have time for things like naps, they both have things to do, entire worlds to attend to, but then he looks back up at Alec and thinks: their worlds can wait for one day. They can have this.
“Yes,” he replies, “That sounds lovely.” He takes Alec’s hand, letting him lead him to the bed, and settles into the sheets, curling his body towards the other as he does so.
“This was a horrible idea. I don’t know if I’ll be able to sleep when I know you’re here,” Alec whispers after a moment. “I never want to look away.” Magnus smiles, trying to keep the mood light despite the way his breath catches.
“You’re a sap.” He leans in to steal another kiss, and grins. “Also, for the record, I wouldn’t be opposed to the seduction plan later,” he adds, which prompts Alexander to snort loudly even as his eyes crinkle at the corners in amusement.
“Good to know,” he says. “Good to know.”
They’ll probably discuss that more thoroughly tomorrow. For now, they sleep.
malec rivals-to-lovers dramatic rain kiss scene, brought to u by me and @rainyhuman's brilliant mind 😘
_
“Goodbye, Alec.”
The way Magnus says his name, short and clipped; it stings. Alec reaches out to catch his arm, but it doesn’t connect -- he doesn’t reach him. Magnus turns away and steps deeper into the rain, further away from Alec, further away from -- whatever they are.
He's walking away and the rain is pouring down around them. Magnus manages to look graceful even while soaked, dignity permeating his every movement, as he begins to disappear into the foggy curtain of rain. Alec needs him so bad he aches.
“MAGNUS,” he shouts. Magnus doesn’t turn around, doesn’t even slow his steps. Speeds them up, if anything. “DON’T JUST WALK AWAY FROM ME. LIKE A COWARD! MAGNUS!”
He’s almost gone now. Magnus is almost gone.
Desperately, Alec screams, trying to out-shout the rain, “MAGNUS -- I LOVE YOU.”
Magnus stops. The rain pours.
“WHAT?”
“I SAID, I LOVE--”
“I HEARD THAT PART. WHAT THE HELL, ALEC?”
It's over. He's ruined it. Magnus will walk away into the rain and Alec will never see him again; not his Magnus, just -- the Bane heir.
Slowly, Magnus turns. His hair is plastered to his forehead and he has never looked more beautiful.
“ALEXANDER--” he starts shouting, before muttering something to himself, and the shape of his lips looks like “oh, fuck it, i can’t do this.”
He starts walking back. Alec doesn't move. He watches Magnus gain speed, until he’s sprinting across the wet pavement, closer and closer to--
Magnus crashes into him like a cat into glass and Alec almost falls over from the force of it -- but he doesn’t, he doesn’t, he catches Magnus in his arms and he holds him tight and he feels soaked twice over, Magnus’ wet shirt sticking against his.
“I love you too,” Magnus says, “I love you too, you, insufferable, pretentious--”
“You love me?” Alec says.
Maybe it’s the rain or maybe Magnus is starting to cry. Alec’s eyes sting. He doesn’t mind.
"Of course I love you. God, Alexander--"
It’s hard to tell who kisses who. So Alec doesn’t. The rain pours, and they're both soaked to the bone, and Magnus’ lips are soft and warm against his and Alec thinks he could die here, just like this, kissing Magnus Bane until the world ends.
When they pull apart Magnus’ eyes flutter open, another raindrop landing on his lip, and Alec can’t help but say it again.
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