Adding to the discussion of Marco’s intelligence: I like the details in the early books that imply that it’s partly honed by his experiences with adversity that the others haven’t had. In #1 Jake is reading the news article and going “but why would the cops lie?” and Marco is scornful of his naïveté. And then in #14 (after we know from #5 that Marco does the household budget/shopping), he calculates the $ they would win from racehorse bets and says math is a whole other thing when it’s $.
Right!?!? Marco understands the value of money, better than any of his friends, because none of his friends has been the one solely in charge of grocery shopping and household management for their entire family. Jake and Rachel have typical rich-kid attitudes of "money doesn't matter and I see no need to earn it," Cassie's less sheltered because her parents are financially secure (we learn in #19 they're not) than because her parents are consciously choosing to shelter her, and Ax has no concept of money. Tobias comes a little closer to getting where Marco's coming from, but Tobias also comes from a household where his guardian(s) provide food, shelter, and basically nothing else — he's free to come and go as he pleases, and free to grab enough pocket money for The Gardens out of his uncle's wallet without anyone giving a damn one way or another.
Like, Marco knows the value of math. Math is what prevents you from running into an empty refrigerator 10 days before the next paycheck comes in. Math is determining how many loads of laundry you need to do to avoid getting your ass kicked or your teachers' concerns at school next week. Math is figuring out how to keep the lights on when your dad goes through jobs like they're socks. Math is risk assessment too, and Marco knows better than anyone that one careless risk on the water in a storm is all it takes.
« La Révolution française n’a pas appelé le peuple français au pouvoir, mais cette classe artificielle qu’est la bourgeoisie. Cette classe, qui est devenue de plus en plus dégradée, jusqu’à devenir traîtresse à son propre pays. »
— Charles de Gaulle, lettre à Alain Peyrefitte, 16 janvier 1963.
Cishet men in "intellectual" spaces using the word cunt needs to go. Especially so since they often use it solely to insult someone, primarily other men. I'm mostly referring to the political commentary space. There's more to this thought, but I'll leave it here with that. Unsurprisingly, I don't just see this as a phenomenon with only misogynists. Men, particularly cishet men at large, seem to have an internalized blind spot for matters pertaining to women.
I know this sounds whack, because he’s literally a billionaire, and that is important. But the Iron Man trilogy has always struck me as very anti-capitalist, and Tony’s story, actions and development mirror working class experiences, even though he is a billionaire in his context, which gives him resources and he uses his money to fund the avengers later, and that matters to his characterisation.
Being a billionaire doesn’t disqualify Tony from representing the working class if we look at Marxist literary theory (that is, the literary theory which focuses on how social class impacts a narrative). There are overt and covert aspects to any text. The idea that Tony represents working class people would be covert — it’s underlying and likely not even intentional, but it’s there. This isn’t to say that Tony Stark is a working class person, he isn’t, but he could be a representation of the working class experience.
Marxist literary theory states that capitalism reifies people, and capitalism exploits its labourers. Reification is the opposite of personification. It is when a person is viewed as a thing, a means for production, and Tony, who cannot stop building and advancing tech, is a means of production. Tony, who can’t let go of Iron Man, and considers the suit an extension of his body (a ‘high tech prosthesis’, as he calls it in Iron Man 2) is reified. And there’s no question as to whether his labour is exploited.
The Iron Man trilogy portrays capitalist ideology and the corrupt nature of billionaires in a lot of different ways, but most obviously through the character of Obadiah Stane, who is likely only a little less wealthy than Tony himself, but embodies the values of the bourgeoisie in our society far more than Tony ever has. Obadiah is selfish and corrupt, he hurts others (Tony, the stand in for the working class) to get what he wants, and while he has the resources and is given the option to make the world better, he chooses instead to make things worse to for the sake of profit. Stane has no empathy or compassion for others, and is content to attempt to murder Tony twice because he was in the way of what Obadiah wanted. This is a clear and simple reflection of the way that people in power mistreat those who have less than them, and I’m sure I don’t need to point out any of the real-life people it parallels. It is significant that Tony has spent the vast majority of his life (and indeed the entirety of his adult life) being used and exploited by this representation of the upper class, who is depicted as predatory and deceptive towards him. And it is also significant that the resolution of the story comes from the death of Obadiah (ie: the dismantling of the system he represents).
In some respects, Tony is just a reflection of what a billionaire should be like; he’s hardworking, philanthropic, intelligent, etc etc. In the same way that Steve Rogers represents what America should be, Tony is what billionaires should be, and that’s a perfectly valid take. But I want to provide evidence as to why I think he is also coded in a working class way. One of the biggest is that he’s a disabled character, and in our society, those who are disabled are usually left without a lot of financial stability due to the way that our society is rigged against them. Furthermore, Tony’s disability directly comes as a consequence of his own work, something that is common for people in blue collar jobs that do not have adequate safety regulations in their workplace. And in the second movie, this disability Tony has begins to actively kill him because he’s overworking himself by using the Iron Man Suit too much. Tony’s actions and growth come from a change in work ethics, and constant growth and adaptation in the things he builds, as well as his growing disillusionment with the systems in place.
Hi guys this is my first time here on tumblr Hope you enjoy this story!
Socs+ Greaser💕
You didn’t belong on the east side — not with your neat hair, sharp skirt, and shiny flats that looked too clean for cracked pavement. A Soc girl like you stuck out like a brand‑new dime in a gutter. But you were tired of the same old squares at the country club, all show and no go. You wanted something real, something with a little spark.
That’s when Steve Randle spotted you.
He was bent over a souped‑up Mustang, cigarette tucked behind his ear, grease smeared across his hands like he’d been wrestling the engine. The radio was blasting rock ’n’ roll, and he was humming along, tapping his foot like he owned the joint. When he looked up and saw you, he damn near got shook. Only for a second — then he slapped that cocky grin on like he’d been born with it.
“Well ain’t this wild,” he said, wiping his hands on a rag. “A Soc broad makin’ tracks on the wrong side of town. You lost, dollface?”
You lifted your chin. “No. Just looking around.”
Steve let out a low whistle, amused.“Yeah? You keep eyeballin’ me like that, I’m gonna think you dig what you see.”
Your face went warm.He caught it.He liked that he caught it.
He sauntered over, slow and smooth, like he had all the time in the world.
“You’re real sharp,” he said, voice dropping. “Too sharp to be runnin’ with those hopped‑up Soc boys who think they’re hot stuff.”
Nobody talked to you like that — bold, straight, no fancy lines. Just real.And that was the start of everything.
You kept coming back. Sometimes you pretended you were “just passin’ through.” Sometimes you didn’t bother pretending at all. Steve would razz you, call you “princess,” “doll,” “soc girl,” but every time he saw you, he lit up like a kid with a new set of wheels.
He’d walk you home, hands shoved in his pockets, trying to play it cool even though he was all shook inside. He’d talk about cars, Soda, the Curtis house, the gang. You liked the way he talked — fast, excited, like everything mattered. He liked the way you listened — like he wasn’t just some hood from the wrong side.
One night, he slipped.
“You make me feel like I ain’t just some greaser kid,” he muttered, eyes on the ground.
You looked at him — really looked — and he realized he’d said it out loud.He didn’t take it back.
Things were smooth until the drive‑in.
You and Steve were leaning against the fence, sharing a Coke, laughing about something stupid Two‑Bit said, when a tall Soc in a letterman jacket strutted over like he owned the joint. He gave Steve a once‑over, then looked at you like you were a prize he’d misplaced.
“There you are,” he said. “Come sit with us. You don’t gotta hang around these hoods.”
Steve didn’t move.Didn’t blink.Just stared — jaw tight, eyes dark, shoulders squared like he was ready to rumble right there.
Then he stepped in front of you, close enough that you could feel the heat coming off him.
“She ain’t slummin’,” Steve said, voice low and dangerous. “She’s with me.”
The Soc laughed. “With you? Don’t make me laugh.”
Steve’s eyes went darker — not wild, just steady and dangerous in that greaser way.
“Cool it,” Steve warned. “I ain’t lookin’ to get hacked off tonight.”
But the Soc shoved him.
That was it.
Steve swing — punches flew you tried to break them off then He grabbed the guy’s jacket, pushed him back a step, and said through his teeth:
“Beat it before you get yourself real embarrassed.”
The Soc stumbled, face red, pride bruised. He muttered something about “greaser trash” and made tracks back to his buddies.
Steve watched him go, breathing hard, hands still shaking from the adrenaline. Then he turned to you, trying to play it cool.
“Sorry ’bout that,” he muttered. “Guy was askin’ for it.”
You stepped closer, your hand brushing his arm.“Steve… you didn’t have to do that.”
He looked away, embarrassed, burned, bent outta shape in a way he didn’t want you to see.
“Yeah, I did,” he muttered. “You walk in lookin’ all dreamy and perfect, and every cat in this town wants you. I ain’t lettin’ some hopped‑up Soc think he’s got a shot.”
He swallowed, eyes flicking to your lips before he caught himself.
“I ain’t losin’ you,” he said quietly. “Not to them. Not to anybody.”
You felt your heart flip.Slowly, you reached up and touched his cheek, your thumb brushing a smudge of grease he’d missed.
Steve froze — like he couldn’t believe you were touching him.
“Steve,” you whispered, “I’m not going anywhere.”
He let out a shaky breath, stepping closer until there was barely an inch between you.
“Dollface…” he murmured, voice low and real. “If I kiss you right now, I ain’t gonna be able to play it cool no more.”
You smiled. “Who said I want you to play it cool?”
That did it.
Steve cupped your face gently — careful, almost nervous — and leaned in. His lips brushed yours soft at first, like he was afraid you’d disappear. Then he kissed you again, slower, deeper, his thumb stroking your cheek like he’d been waiting his whole life for this.
When he finally pulled back, he rested his forehead against yours.
“You’re my steady now,” he whispered. “And I don’t share.”
And under the drive‑in lights, with the whole world stacked against you, neither of you gave a single damn.he finally kissed you passionately again .
Cultivating awareness is not merely recognizing facts we previously ignored: it is a shift in our relationship with the world in its entirety. The awareness in question is not the awareness of a pre-existing state of affairs. On the contrary, awareness is productive.
Cultivar la toma de conciencia no es meramente reconocer hechos que antes ignorábamos: es un desplazamiento de nuestra relación con el mundo en su totalidad. La conciencia en cuestión no es la conciencia de un estado de cosas ya existente. Al contrario, la toma de conciencia es productiva.
It creates a new subject: a "we" that is both that for which we struggle and the agent of that struggle. At the same time, awareness intervenes upon the object, upon the world itself, which is no longer apprehended as a static opacity whose nature is predetermined, but as something that can be transformed. This transformation requires knowledge; it will not occur solely through spontaneity, voluntarism, the experience of ruptures, or by virtue of marginality. - Mark Fisher
Crea un nuevo sujeto: un "nosotros" que es a la vez aquello por lo que se lucha y el agente de la lucha. Al mismo tiempo, la toma de conciencia interviene sobre el objeto, sobre el mundo mismo, que ya no es aprehendido como una opacidad estática cuya naturaleza está decidida de antemano, sino como algo que puede ser transformado. Esa transformación requiere conocimiento; no va a ocurrir solamente a través de la espontaneidad, el voluntarismo y la experiencia de eventos de ruptura o en virtud de la marginalidad.
