#internalized alienation

[boof-chamber]

from a leftist perspective - which requires us to consider these types of issues within their proper social context - cluster b disorders can be understood as a hyper-adaptation to capitalist alienation - which would then mean that their behavior is a rational response to extremely effed up conditions.

people do not “behave” in a vacuum. when we think “crazy,” we think of wildly irrational, unpredictable behaviors that have no connection to the reality that “sane” people inhabit. but all behavior has context. mental illnesses, including cluster b disorders, are rational responses to the conditions of this anti-human society we are all immersed in, the reality we are all living in. some of us adapt to these conditions better than others, and some of us over adapt - as is the case with cluster b disorders. truth is that the “problematic” behaviors associated with cluster b disorders are actually pretty heavily rewarded in our society under circumstances that are deemed acceptable.

as leftists, we’re supposed to be all about “community” - building community, connection, interdependence, collective well-being. but the truth is that most of us haven’t spent much time thinking on this much deeper than meetings, actions, political work - all guided by our own internalized alienation under neoliberal competitive individualism - that anti-human system that starts hammering away at our humanness from the day we are born. we learn to tolerate it by dehumanizing ourselves and one another - we blunt our own humanity so we can keep plugging along, fulfilling the obligations imposed on us by this anti-human system.

and so we take on the role of oppressor, using the oppressors’ tactics, when someone is seen as disruptive of our shallow efforts to perform “community.” understand that banishment is violence. to deprive a human being of social connection and belonging is to inflict psychic pain and lifelong torment - that’s trauma. and trauma is where cluster b and other mental health diagnoses got their start.

as leftists, we need to broaden our ideas around what constitutes a “leftist space.” if we are serious about transforming society, we need to take ourselves seriously by incorporating counter-alienation practice into our day to day lives.

if we want to raise collective consciousness, we need to recognize the ways our own character has been shaped by social forces, and we need to learn how to recognize the ways those same social forces have shaped others, most especially those who are most severely impacted.

if we hope to decommodify social relations, we must make a conscious and deliberate effort to keep our spaces free from transactional dynamics that replicate market relations

if we are serious about building solidarity, we need to take ourselves seriously by developing community support structures that counter the isolating tendencies that neoliberal society has so deeply instilled in us.

to further isolate the people who have been hit the hardest by capitalist alienation is basically what we have been trained to do by the system. the entire point is to resist.

i am in no way minimizing or dismissing the harm that some people with cluster b disorders can be capable of - i am in the thick of it right now, my life has been a nightmare for the past year and a half and it’s not even close to over. i am hurt, i am afraid, and most of all, i am angry - because it didn’t have to get this bad. none of this shit had to happen and the fact that it’s STILL GOING—-

when we say that people need to be held responsible for the harm they cause, what are we even talking about? punishment? retribution? vengeance? banishment? what is it that you think propels the destructive behaviors we’ve come to associate with BPD? it’s carceral logic. the logic passed down to us by the hegemonic neoliberal order, that tells us to harm one another under the guise of “safety” - is pathologized when it’s turned onto us by those we have left behind.

what i’m saying is that we are them, they are us. and we need to start taking responsibility for the harm done to them as well as the harm we allow them to do to us. they do not have the power that the ruling class has. they could not cause such devastating harm if we were at all serious about building and practicing solidarity.

networks of genuine solidarity, community care, and interdependence mitigate that harm. but for as much as we like to talk about it, few if us have the faintest clue as to what that actually looks like, or how to turn it into action when it matters most.

[puppetmaster13u]

Prompt 235

“Mother, I have made a friend.” 

Now don’t get him wrong, Danny was delighted at the idea of Jordan making a friend, he really was. But the last three attempts had been borderline kidnappings, so he wasn’t entirely sure if he should be. Thankfully it doesn’t seem he’s kidnapped this one. Hopefully. 

Not that he wouldn’t be surprised if Dan managed to kidnap a tiny kryptonian, but the kid- Jon apparently- seemed happy enough to be there. Apparently his grandparents lived in the midwest too, and was happy enough to have someone to talk about it. 

Though um, maybe Danny should have checked to see if his parents knew where he’d gone, because he was not expecting a harried-looking superman to suddenly appear at his window. 

[theartofarandaadams]

Happy International Alien Day!

Nothing says love and aliens like a little old fashioned ZaDR! If you're an Invader Zim fan and don't know what that is... You clearly weren't part of the early 2000's fandom.

God I absolutely feel old...

[anghraine]

One of the highlights of the description of younger Kirk as a bookish and severe Academy instructor is that Gary Mitchell, the friend describing him that way, seems to have been his student back in the day and was trying to pass his notoriously difficult "think or sink" class at the Academy.

Present-day Mitchell mentions reading "that longhair stuff you like" to Kirk (now that he's acquired godly powers that include being able to read Spinoza) and there's this random lore drop about how Mitchell helped a lab technician with a crush on Kirk orchestrate her dating campaign, in hopes that it'd distract Kirk enough for Mitchell to survive his class.

It seems pretty widely accepted that Kirk had a romance with Mitchell himself at the time, which is not my take at all, BUT honestly it's hilarious to me that there's this whole Clueless-style "student matchmaking plot to get a strict teacher a girlfriend so he'll chill enough that you can pass the class" history established almost immediately about Kirk. Comedy gold, especially since Kirk and the lab technician ended up in a long-term relationship and he nearly married her.

Bonus: Kirk and Mitchell became close friends but Kirk is still incredulous at the idea of Mitchell voluntarily reading Spinoza in the episode. And when Mitchell flips into obnoxious god mode and describes Spinoza as simple and childish, Kirk is pretty evidently affronted and alarmed. It's not surprising that Kirk has big philosophy opinions given that futuristic humanism is half his personality, but the idea of him as a former philosophy instructor with Spinoza feelings who goes to space and still can't escape Bad Philosophy Takes is incredible. Even by Season 3, it's just like:

KIRK: Dr. McCoy saved your life. PARMEN: I am losing patience, captain. KIRK: And you consider yourself a disciple of Plato?!

[soleta]

the thing about Lucky Day is that yeah, obviously UNIT is a stand-in for important government departments having their funding cut or being generally "discredited" by conspiracy nuts. Which even in-universe makes sense, as UNIT in the UK just stopped existing completely for a few years as a result of Brexit. It's a stand-in for anything to do with the environment, health, stuff like that. At the time where you see America and DOGE fuck up the staffing and funding of important departments this is a really obvious and important episode to do. But the thing about UNIT is that this doesn't really work as a perfect stand-in.

Conrad sets up a scenario where UNIT not only gets "exposed" as being a waste of taxes, but also films himself being threatened by them. The public is outraged that he had guns pointed at him. And sure, he bends the story to his will in a very familiar right wing way, but he still had fucking guns pointed at him. The NHS isn't pointing guns at people because they are not the military. And sure this is nitpicky af of me but I hate the military. Especially in this day and age where military propaganda is rampant I feel like the Avengers-fication of UNIT is really glaring when compared to original UNIT and the military criticism that was, like, the main thing in 70s dr who.

I do think the message they tried to get across isn't bad, but I have to say that UNIT doesn't really work that well for that setting.

[natalievoncatte]

“What’s wrong with me, Alex?” Kara asked, swinging her feet in a childlike, nervous way as she sat on the exam table.

Kara watched her sister putter around the room. She’d activated the red lamps and taken blood samples, and the tubes were currently spinning away in centrifuges awaiting the various tests she would run. She’s listened to Kara’s lungs and checked her pulse and waved instruments about and taken her blood pressure.

Everything about her was well within Kryptonian norms. Her pulse was running around a hundred and ten at rest, which would be alarming for a human but was a tad slow for her, and her body temperature was at a perfect one-oh-one, again just right for the last daughter of Krypton. There was no issue with her processing of sunlight and no signs of radiation exposure, which had been her fear.

Specifically Kryptonite of the red variety.

Kara had been having intrusive thoughts. They’d started here and there months ago but she’d ignored them, writing them off as some odd byproduct of fatigue or stress.

“You can go for now, kiddo,” said Alex. “I’ll let you know when the results come in.”

Alex looked more bemused than anything- probably because Kara showed no signs of actual sickness and had been cagey and indirect about her symptoms. There was a reason for that.

It became unbearable for her yesterday when Lena dropped by her office. Lena had been dressed in Kara’s favorite work ensemble, a green sweater that bared deep cleavage, a pencil skirt, and sheer silk stockings. She’d had her hair up in a meticulous bun and wore a rich plum red lipstick and smoky eyes, looking more sexpot than CEO.

Kara had barely been able to keep a straight face and make conversation. The mere presence of the other woman in the room made her heart pound and created an unbearable tension in her belly and between her thighs. Her eyes kept falling back to the pale inviting column of her throat or the lush inner curves of her breasts. Kara couldn’t stop imagining a bead of sweat rolling down between them. She couldn’t stop thinking about pressing her tongue to the flesh there and catching it, tasting the pearly bead and following its slick trail up to Lena’s throat while her chest heaved against her.

That was a problem, because those were not normal Kara thoughts. Those were not normal Kryptonian thoughts. Kryptonians did not think about those things, especially with members of the same gender. It had come with that same aching feeling between her legs that Kara had been fighting since she arrived on Earth and was dealing with now, just thinking about thinking about Lena.

Worse, Lena would be there tonight at movie night. It was an all girl’s night so it would just be Alex and Nia watching movies with them; Brainy was busy and Kelly was out of town for an academic conference and they were really just keeping Alex company.

Kara’s mind was a train wreck. She couldn’t stop thinking about Casual Lena. When she dressed down in her big sweaters and leggings and let down her hair in soft waves, she was so tiny and cute and small and Kara just wanted to eat her all up and… feel her from the inside, listen to her cries of ecstasy as Kara got creative and *relieved that fucking pressure between her legs*.

Ack! Stop it!

She had to be sick, or infected with a transdimensional parasite, or under a magic spell, or microdosed with red Kryptonite because KRYPTONIANS DID NOT HAVE THESE THOUGHTS.

So, she went for a fly to clear her head.

She ended up going hypersonic and landing at the Fortress, where she picked up the fifty thousand ton key and let herself in. Thankfully, Clark wasn’t there, so she had the vast place to herself.

The Archive here had a simpler interface, she wouldn’t have to ask a holographic version of her mother why she wanted to know what Lena’s sweat tasted like and pin her down on the sofa in her office and do things to her.

“Greetings, Kara Zor-El. How may I assist you?”

Kara looked at the hovering holographic sphere and described her symptoms, holding nothing back. It hovered there all hovery for a moment.

“What you describe sounds similar in principle to afflictions that affected ancient Kryptonians, especially under a yellow sun. Our ancestors often embraced perverse and hedonistic lusts before embracing the perfection of logic and self-discipline. However, you cannot be experiencing these unnatural and incorrect attractions, as they had been bred out of our people by the breeding program. Attraction to members of the same sex and metamorphic reproductive capability have been deemed eradicated by the Science Guild.”

“Metamorphic capabilities?!”

“Some of the ancestors possessed the ability to adapt physically to their preferred partner with the aid of yellow solar wavelengths. This is no longer possible.”

Kara chewed her lip.

The words rang in her skull. Unnatural. Illogical. It made her sound like some… like some abomination, a monster from ancient times. A tightness formed in her chest tears welled in her eyes. Was she like this? Was she broken? An aberration? Some crude vile thing with the instincts and lusts of a Daxamite? Was she broken?

She left the Fortress in a tearful rush and again she flew, too fast. Her phone started going off in the hidden pocket on the flank of her suit and she lighted on a building in Seattle to answer.

“Kara, where the hell are you?” said Alex. “Lena showed up at your place and you weren’t there and we’ve both been panic calling you.”

“I’m sorry, I was at the Fortress, trying to figure out what’s wrong with me.”

Her voice was high and pained.

Alex’s reply was soft. “Come home, Kara. We need to talk.”

Kara nodded to no one. “I’m on my way.”

She made the trip back a bit slower, honing in on Alex’s heartbeat to find her at the DEO, still in the lab. When she walked in, Alex gestured to the exam table and Kara sat down.

“What is it?” Kara almost pleaded. “Alex, tell me what’s wrong.”

“Kara, listen to me,” said Alex, taking both of Kara’s hands. “Look at me, okay.”

Kara looked at her.

“There is nothing wrong with you. I shared the results of the test with Eliza and we went over it in detail. You’re completely fine.”

“I can’t be,” Kara protested. “There has to be a reason why I’m having these thoughts, Alex!”

Pulling her hands free, she jolted to her feet and began to pace.

“There has to be. I have to be sick or messed up somehow. Kryptonians don’t have feelings like this!”

Alex closed her eyes and sighed.

“Kara, listen to me, okay? You’re not sick. You’re not broken. Your best friend is a stunningly beautiful woman and adore each other. There’s nothing wrong with having a crush on her.”

“It’s not a crush!” Kara almost shouted. “It’s more than that and it’s scaring me. What if I can’t control myself? What if I hurt her? What if she sees me looking and she thinks I’m a monster that wants to prey on her?”

Alex’s expression softened. She took a few steps, arrested Kara’s pacing, and pulled her into a bear hug.

“I know how it feels, Kara. I promise you you’re not a predator and there’s nothing wrong with you.”

“Kryptonians can’t be gay.”

“Says who?”

“Everybody! The computer! The rules! I don’t know,” The last words came as a broken whimper, and Kara sagged against her sister.

“What about this, Kara. You’re Supergirl. You can do anything.”

Kara pulled back in a daze, staring at nothing. Since she came to Earth, she’d embraced it with her whole self. As loath as she was to admit it, she loved it here. This world was so free, full of wonders and majesty for all its problems. Kara had never once questioned her love for her sister. If Alex could be gay, why not Kara? There was no science council here, no one to ordain who she must marry and breed with.

Why not?

She felt dizzy, and strangely relaxed, as if she’d just heaved a massive weight off her shoulders.

Alex offered her a tissue and she dried her tears.

“Go get the girl,” said Alex. “I’ll call Nia and tell her you need some alone time.”

Kara nodded, and felt half in a daze as she left the infirmary. She stepped out onto the balcony and texted Lena, can I come over?

Lena replied immediately, Yes.

Kara’s heart hammered her ribs as she landed on the balcony. Lena rushed to the door and threw it open, ushering her inside. Kara stepped into the living room of the penthouse and stumbled to a stop.

Lena was dressed down and so soft, from the mop of her wavy hair pulled into a low ponytail to her cashmere sweater down the length of her toned legs to her bare feet.

“What’s wrong?”

As Lena asked, she darted forward, offering a hug. Kara gingerly let herself be pulled into the embrace, hesitant at first. Lena dove into her, throwing herself into the hug as if she wanted to climb inside Kara. Kara wrapped her in her arms and drew her cape around them both. She couldn’t stop thinking about Lena’s feet being cold, about wanting to make her warm.

Before she answered, Kara buried her face in Lena’s hair and breathed deep. Lena’s scent hit her like a train. It was like swallowing a mouthful of alien rum, filling her chest with a spreading warmth and making her head swim.

“I’ve been trying to work some things out, and I was scared, so I ran off to the Fortress. I’m sorry.”

Lena pulled back gently and looked up at her. They were so close. Lena’s big, pretty blue-green eyes were full of worry but dark, her pupils blown.

“What’s bothering you? I’ll throw money at it until it goes away.”

Kara swallowed, hard. “I don’t want it to go away.”

Lena arched a brow. “Oh?”

Kara licked her lips and as she did, Lena’s eyes darted and followed the motion of her tongue. Kara was suddenly away of Lena’s hands resting just above her hips now, the way that her hugs and touches always seemed to trend lower, the casual way that Lena leaned into her as she looked up.

She bit her lip and Kara almost died.

“I think I like girls,” Kara blurted out.

“You certainly like my girls, Kara Danvers. You can’t stop looking.”

“You noticed?” Kara squeaked.

“Kara, darling, you’ve been staring at them for thirty seconds just now.”

Kara’s gaze snapped up.

“I’m sorry, I, oh Rao oh God, Lena.”

Lena curled her fingers around Kara’s chin and tilted her head back down.

“Did you really think I didn’t notice? The day we met you paid more attention to my boobs than my business card.”

“You gave me a business card?”

“See what I mean?”

Kara swallowed. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to.”

Lena’s thumb grazed her jaw and Kara thought her heart might go off like a bomb in her chest. She shuddered and her toes curled in her boots.

“I’ve been teasing you for years,” she said, “I’d almost given up hope. I wouldn’t be the first disaster bisexual to nurse a futile crush on her best friend.”

Kara swallowed hard. “So should we like go on a date?”

Lena’s fingers traced down her neck, then along the ridge of her collarbone.

“I was thinking more Netflix and chill. I know and trust you, Kara. You’ve saved my life more times than I can count, I’m ready now if you are.”

“Ready?” Kara squeaked.

“So are you, I think,” said Lena.

She rolled her hips and Kara immediately realized what she meant and what the Archive meant by her body adapting.

“Ohshit,” Kara chirped. “Oh God Lena I’m sorry, this is so embarrassing, I didn’t mean to-“

Lena lunged and suddenly they were kissing. Lena’s lips were so soft and she was intoxicating. Kara pulled her into an embrace, almost lifted her off the floor as she kissed her back. Lena threw one leg up and hooked it wound her hip, and Kara instinctively scooped her up and felt a jolt through her body as Lena then wrapped both legs around her waist.

“Fuck, you’re strong,” Lena panted. “Oh God, Kara. Bedroom. Now. Please.”

“You want…”

“Yes! What are you fucking waiting for?”

Later, hours later, Kara lay in Lena’s bed, while Lena slept blissfully next to her, head resting on Kara’s shoulder, smiling contentedly. She looked over at her and tucked the sheets and blankets up close around her chin and smoothed stray strands of hair back from her eyes. Lena made a small sound, and curled around Kara’s side.

Kryptonians, it turned out, could be very good at being gay.

[theofficialastronomy101]

[ghastigiggles]

what if you were an alien princess and the sole survivor of your planet's ruthless destruction and in your loneliness you were slowly going insane so you build a robot wife and try to persist in denial but its ok because your robot wife is silly and cute dont think about it dont think ab

[twentyfivemiceinatrenchcoat]

had such a terribly awful day from start to finish yesterday but i am snuggling my sugu plushie and drinking warm milk like a domesticated cat and the sun is shining ……. today will be a little better

[shakingparadigm]

what is the theory that ivan manipulated the event where till and mizi met the wagyein?

It's not a theory, actually! It's confirmed that Ivan orchestrated the whole event. The true reason as to why however is still unknown. The information provides more context to this scene, though:

During the earlier times of ALNST the most rational explanation for this scene was that Till ran after a flower crown (presumably Mizi's) and Ivan followed him in out of curiosity. Now we know that Ivan was conveniently just standing there because he was waiting.

Side note, I find it heartbreaking (and maybe a little funny, sorry) that Till most likely didn't notice Ivan in this scene. That's just like him, isn't it. Always too busy running after Mizi while Ivan trails behind, an ever-present shadow.

I'm not sure how Ivan manipulated the circumstances for both of them to end up there, but it is confirmed that everything was intentional. What strikes me most is how they describe this particular scene:

I can't copy down what they said word-for-word (Patreon info), but they described Ivan watching "creepily" as Till and Mizi are faced with danger. We know that Ivan was familiar with the Cerberus wagyein beforehand, enough to touch its teeth and even to rest himself inside its maw. To Ivan, the wagyein is not dangerous, but to Till and Mizi, it could be. Ivan prepared the wagyein, led them there, and watched "creepily" from afar as Till fell on his knees, seemingly injured.

The closest I can get to making sense of Ivan's "scheme" is that he wanted to see how other children would react in a dangerous situation. Ivan's always been an observer, after all, and he's learned to survive by copying the more "normal" behaviors of his peers. This situation occured when Ivan was still young and had not yet developed his more charming mask, so perhaps he staged this encounter to study a situational response, to learn and mimic the emotion of fear. And what better subjects for the experiment than two of the most expressive and reactive humans of their batch? It helps that he was already fixated on Till beforehand, too. I think Ivan became irreversibly obssessed after this incident, especially since it's framed as a turning point in Ivan's life, comparing Till to the stars.

This is just my attempt at an interpretation, though. It could very well be for another reason. He most likely chose Till and Mizi specifically for personal reasons, not just for reaction. I'm still not sure on the purpose behind the whole thing.

The team wanted to capture Ivan's "dark emotions" through the shot of his stalking, which could relate to his more sinister intentions. His gaze can be read in a few different ways, though. Curiosity, interest, fear, etc. Maybe that's why they decided to redraw the shot in ROUND 6.

I think this better sells the feeling they were trying to convey.

[frosty-tian]

Thinking about how Cybertronians give Innermost Energon as a way to show how much they care for each other and Cybertronians learning about giving rings as marriage proposals.

Raising the dumb idea of Boulder learning about this ring ordeal through television shows and somehow managing to propose Graham with a wedding ring. But then Graham panics because he can’t give his own blood due to sanitary reasons so he crafts and gifts Boulder a lava lamp from scratch on the same day.

Edit.:

“I can’t tell if he’s happy or traumatized.”

[dinosaurwithablog]

Check this out!! That small circle of light traveling over my house is the International Space Station!! It's a spaceship, and we're the aliens flying it!! How cool is that? It flies over my house a lot. My roommate has a ham radio, and he has spoken with the astronauts aboard the ISS!! I find this to be very exciting and incredible to watch!! 😁😍 I hope that you enjoy it as much as I did!!!

To infinity and beyond!!! 😁😁😁

[mozart-the-meerkitten]

Okay, so watching the original Star Trek and every once and a while Kirk will mention how nice it'd be if he could do the Vulcan neck pinch too and one time Spock even says, "well I TRIED to teach it to you" and like, skill issue tbh, because I once successfully did it with zero training.

So when I was a teenager I'd often walk to my friend's house and hang out there after school and she had a younger brother. At the time the two of us were somewhere between 15-17 and he was 11-12ish. Since my friend and I were both short he was about the same height as us.

One day I'm there and my friend and her brother start beating each other up, like, physically attacking each other, which, okay, fine, fair. I can't remember why I decided to join? intervene? but I suddenly felt the desire to be a part of things and help my friend. So I walk up to her unsuspecting brother and for some unknown reason I apparently thought, "let's do the Vulcan neck pinch on this kid" because??? I guess??? when else would I have an opportunity to try it???

I don't. I don't think I expected it to actually work, but dang, I grabbed that kid's shoulder, squeezed and he went DOWN, dropped to the floor. I am. stricken and shocked and stop immediately. The kid is still conscious and going, "ow, ow, what the heck, what did you do?!" my friend is similarly confused but like, not mad xD and I'm standing there like, "CRAP did I just permanently injure a child?!" (no, I did not, he's fine, he still lives in the same town and my mom has seen him in the post office as an adult akfjhkjagdsfkljdg)

Neither my friend nor her brother had ever seen Star Trek so I had to try and explain. It did effectively stop the fight though. To this day I'm still not sure if the kid didn't fall unconscious like in the show because I did the technique badly or because Star Trek embellished it. But the fact of the matter is I made someone drop to the ground using the Vulcan neck pinch and whenever Kirk mentions not being able to do it I get to yell "I CAN!" and it's very satisfying. xD

[jolenes-doppelganger]

ok official riza stavros request! riza x reader in her castle or whatever you want to call it. does it have to be smut? no. preferably

but idk…. i just feel like she has the same kind of sassy vibe as rose the hat. so maybe reader is a mib agent, going to capture riza or something she has (ig you could use the original story from the movie) and then they meet. and riza is a tease, flirt and lowkey a menace. would be kind of fun if she like grabs reader with that third arm, shocking reader.

anyway

🫡🫡🫡🫡

Time of MY Life

Riza’s Stavros x Fem!Reader

Summary: Lonely and caught up in conflict with the Men In Black, Riza finds herself going to desperate degrees to secure companionship. Manipulating the MiB was just the beginning…

Warnings: Contract marriage, mentions of genitalia but no smut

A/N: I tried to make this a smut fic, but I simply couldn’t get the momentum to do that while still making the one shot relatively size-appropriate. It's still cute, fluffy and with room for future one-shot spin offs!

Word Count: 4.7k

Intergalactic armistice between a Tribrachian weapon’s dealer and a long withstanding peace conduit of a remote solar system in the Milky Way should have been a simple, cursory endeavor. Few things were ever simple, or cursory when it came to weapons dealer Riza Stavros. Riza resented the Men in Black, loathed them and carried an eternal animosity that would not be settled by the promise of a ‘better commerce environment’. This wasn’t from previous history, or the tampering of trade in the past. Sure, they’d confiscated weapons, imposed intergalactic tariffs, and even overtly screwed with her business dealings, but that wasn’t why Riza refused to budge. Business was business, there were bound to be a few hiccups here and there. The straw that broke Riza’s arm-sprouting back was one simple negligence. The MIB had fucked with Riza’s love life.

Given the perpetual rivalries between species in the Virgo galaxy cluster, Riza always had business. Weapons were a hot commodity, and she spent every day selling, buying and distributing them wherever weapons were needed, assuming they were well compensated for. Being situated in the Milky Way galaxy had its perks, especially when her main business operation was situated on Earth. A beautiful climate, consistent access to communication lines, trade distribution centers and aliens aplenty kept Riza in a steady hum of both commercial and personal wellness. And if the Men in Black hadn’t removed her from her status as a ‘Red Level Threat’, she’d still be drowning in the luxuries of many, many lovers.

One feature the vast majority of intelligent beings inside the Virgo Cluster shared was the fascination for the ‘bad one’. A certain level of danger, a sultriness that only came from being connected to nothing good, that is what gave Riza her appeal. Eccentric fashion choices aside, three arms, a startlingly sexy accent, and a rough double life had kept her lovers enthralled. But being an Orange Class Threat? What a downgrade. Most aliens were flagged with a ‘yellow’, or minor misdemeanor at least once in their lifetimes. An orange was your average run of the mill criminal, and Riza had spent too long in this business to be considered ‘average.’ 

As the negotiation deals and unanswered calls began to pile up, the Men In Black grew desperate for a solution. They offered increasing levels of leniency in exchange for a simple, upfront answer from Riza regarding her connections to a particularly violent group of Tarantians. She wouldn’t budge. More weapons would be distributed amongst other gangs, each holding their own brand of oppressive disinterest in following the Men in Black’s regulations, and more chaos would ensue. Finally, after six months of no progress through digital means, a representative was sent right to Riza’s door. 

A sweaty, beady eyed agent stood in Riza’s office, seeming to vibrate with anxiety. If it weren’t the pitying sight of such a puny, adrenaline-filled little imp of a man, Riza would’ve killed him before he stepped onto her porch. When she had finally set her eyes on the little agent, she felt… Amused. This was their plan? Personal contact? 

“Eh… Ms… Ms. Stavros. I am here on behalf of the… The Men in Black. I am Agent B.” he choked, appearing to be visibly trembling.

“Relax. You’re an office worker, I can tell. That stun gun isn’t properly attached to your belt.” Riza hummed. “Now, what conditions are you offering?”

The little man seemed to seize up, astonished by her complete disregard for normal pleasantries. Adjusting his spectacles, Agent B pulled out a clipboard from his briefcase, beginning to read the offer. His voice shook as he read, a bead of sweat sliding right along the bridge of his nose, fascinating Riza.

“Following a small meeting with a former organization-designated associate of yours-”

“Just say Henry. Agent Henry.” Riza groaned, massaging her temple.

Agent B looked up, taking a long swallow. He’d tried to be subtle, and yet Riza remained stubbornly dismissive. Riza, for her part, didn’t care. She poured herself a large helping of whisky, not even feigning to offer the agent any.

“Well. Henry said that you were perhaps not upset by the business dealings, but upset with the organization for… Personal histories.” 

Riza rolled her eyes in a long, fluid cascade, her lips pursed and upper lip pulled up in a haughty display of disgust. The little man’s information was correct, she was entirely consumed by the loss of her love life, but it wasn’t the loss of H that had done it. 

“Sure, whatever. We’ll call it a grudge, I have a grudge against the Men in Black.” Riza drawled, taking a slow sip of whiskey in an effort to cool the rising tension in her stomach.

The little man nodded, one of his hands wavering as he turned a page. It would have been too easy for Riza to raise a gun and shoot. Truthfully she didn’t have much respect for humans, aside from how pleasurable they were in bed.

“We have an unconventional proposal for you.”

Riza’s silence was confirmation enough for Agent B to continue.

“Your fascination with human lovers is noted in our database. Following Agent H you dated four human females, all within rapid succession. We offer you… Committed companionship.”

A hoarse wheeze, what would have been a laugh if Riza hadn’t been so startled, clapped the assurance of safety Agent B had been working up to right out of his composure. The rapid trembling started anew, and the sweating, though it had been abating, returned.

“Well, well you see… I have these files… Potential ladies you’d be interested in meeting, to help the, well the stress of this ongoing armistice. I have the file right here.”

Riza slapped the file his trembling hand had been holding out of his grasp, snapping her fingers. Two large ‘yes’ men snagged the agent underneath his shoulders, dragging him out of her fortress. The madness that was Riza’s life had reached a level of abysmality that she couldn’t process. She finished the whiskey in a long gulp, pouring another immediately after re. Halfway into her pity fest, she walked back into her office to snag another bottle of wine, swaying a little from her previous consumption. A good night was about to turn into a better night when she slipped, falling butt first. Her third arm slapped against the ground and atop one of the scattered leaflets to break her fall, leaving her a shaking mess. Looking down and seeing what she’d slipped on, a new inebriated fury came over her. She snatched up the paper her third hand had found, preparing to crumple it.

A pretty human face greeted her, a simple color photo. It gave her pause. Perusing through the various leaflets, she took her time, examining each photo, skimming through the information on the women. Amidst all of the profiles, she saw a brief offer. A marriage contract to any of these women was offered in addition to several dates with all of them, if she was so inclined. It was absurd, blazingly pitiful, but she was lonely and sexually frustrated enough to want it. Especially when she saw the profile still hidden in the folder. Yes. That one. If Riza had a type, the woman in the picture fit it. And her personality description… It was enough to make her toes curl in delight. The flippant disinterest she’d had in the interview questions, the dismissive attitude peeking through her answers…

Riza liked her.

←→

Twenty five hundred thousand dollars in debt. That’s how much you had accumulated by skipping legal repatriation orders to return to Earth. The agent had made your situation clear, it was to be paid in full by the end of the month or legal action would be taken. You were a model, displaying looks for Chanel Galactica every year in rotating shows around the Milky Way. But even if you were a millionaire with galactic currency, the Men in Black was wealthy enough to smash the conversion rate into something abysmal, every one dollar the equivalent to six galactic credits.

“To put it simply, Ms. Radivayon,” Agent N began, using your clan’s name, “You won’t make enough money this month to cover this debt without accepting a secondary offer from the Men in Black.”

A secondary offer, a plea deal. It was common with the Men in Black to seek asylum under special circumstances, and yours was especially, being that you had fled from the Tarantian occupied TRAPPIST-1 system, completely ignoring the usual diplomatic steps of repatriating yourself to Earth. It had been that or… Death by terrorists.

“Alright, I was hoping we could make an agreement.” you smiled, adjusting your collarbones into something more elegant.

It was common to spend time dolling yourself up, and you knew your angles after half a decade in the business. Agent N seemed oblivious to these tactics, however.

“A key diplomatic arrangement with a particularly volatile Tribrachian has been continuously delayed by interpersonal conflicts. To put it simply, Ms. Radivayon, we were hoping with your connections to the TRAPPIST-1 system that you would be willing to fulfill a mission with the Men in Black.” Agent N said, delicately avoiding telling you too much too soon.

“… Which would be?”

“Riza Stavros. Intergalactic weapons dealer.” Agent N said, turning his computer monitor to show you her picture.

Her face was familiar, and you tilted your head, curious. But then you processed the second half of his sentence. Weapon’s dealer, intergalactic. This woman wasn’t just a criminal, but a monster ten times over. She was supplying the terrorists that had attacked your system, and he was… Asking you to do what?

“She likes pretty things,” Agent N gestured to you, “Is easily swayed by them. We would like you to entertain her for a period of weeks, perhaps elevate her mood.”

The look on your face probably singed a few hairs on Agent N’s mustache; the way his face cringed was spectacularly noteworthy. What he was proposing was hardly ethical, and definitely legally dubious, considering prostitution and escorting was widely outlawed across several neighboring star systems, including this one.

“We’ve already made an agreement of sorts with her, you would be handsomely compensated on top of the erasure of your debt.” Agent N said, displaying a currency order of three million dollars, well worth 18 million intergalactic credits.

The money wasn’t convincing enough. You’d been offered similar things in the past, and dating such a volatile individual could put your current and future career opportunities in jeopardy.

“So you’re telling me that you’ve promised, what exactly? That I date her?” you asked, voice rising in pitch.

“Well, this is… Date to marry.”

“Date to what?!”

Again with that insufferable cringe of his mustache. It seemed more of a disdain thing than a fear reaction.

“At least agree to one date, Ms. Radivayon. This is intergalactic peace we’re discussing!”

You stared up at him in absolute shock. You had barely wrapped your head around the idea when he dropped another bomb.

“I’m afraid that if you do not accept this deal, we will be unable to cancel your fine and you will be deported come the end of the month.” 

Blackmail. Of course. You’d heard rumors of shady deals within the MiB, but considering how large its tourism and immigration sector was, you’d written it off as exaggeration. Large organizations didn’t last long if they were shady in other star systems. It appeared you’d been grievously misled.

“Now. We are not going to marry you off right away, Riza might not like you. There is hope yet, so don’t go all moping and wilting dreams on me just yet.” Agent N said in response to your shell-shocked expression. “You are a bright young lady, and we will not allow your career to be impacted in the adjustment periods.”

For as many words as this man routinely used, he said a whole lot of nothing.

“So. When is our first date?” you mumbled, leaning back into your chair with a dull glare.

The man seemed to brighten a little, completely ignoring the apathetic aura that hung over you like a dark cloud. You were screwed, not even just a little, but a lot. And if this Riza Stavros was as bad as she appeared to be, you’d be doing some literal screwing, regardless of how exploitative the dynamic was. Agent N gestured you up, opening a side door in his office. 

“That is up to her.” he said, making a simple gesture towards a figure inside.

Standing tall and proud in a large meeting room stood the most humanoid alien you’d stumbled upon yet. She looked exactly like the picture, her appearance glaringly zany, and over the top, but she had such well placed features that it only made her natural beauty more prominent. If she hadn’t been labeled as a Tribrachian, you would’ve glazed right over her cape and assumed those visible limbs of two arms and two legs summed her up into a human. She turned slowly, conversation dying around her as her blue-gray eyes landed squarely on you, like she’d drawn a target right on your face.

The room was silent. She stepped closer, feet clacking audibly over the concrete floor. Riza wasn’t afraid to get close, stopping six inches away from you, taking a moment to look. You looked at her, noting the faint signs of freckles under what you assumed to be full coverage foundation. Her hair felt too tall for her head, and it might’ve been the straight line of the bangs, but it also could’ve been a wig. She looked human. This close and you couldn’t tell a single difference from a human face to hers. Given how aesthetically pleasing she was, given the appearance she put out, the care she seemed to take in the way she presented herself, it made sense. Riza was desperately, painstakingly trying to appear as familiar and alluring as someone from your own race would be.

“Yes.” Riza sighed out, one of her hands reaching up towards you.

The hand stuttered, suddenly withdrawing. You looked down, trying to see which hand had been the culprit, but the rush of her cape gave it away. Riza had reached out with her third hand, one of the most vulnerable parts of her body, being that it wasn’t attached to the front, where she could see it. The soft crumple of her brow gave away the anxiety that came with such an impulsive gesture. It was… Human. Or intelligent, you supposed.

“Sorry, Ms. Stavros, yes as in…?” Agent N asked.

“Yes, as in I want her.” Riza replied, squaring her shoulders, the faux pas forgotten.

She’d appeared to brush off whatever the brief moment of familiarity had been. But she didn’t look away from you, her eyes remained locked on you, analyzing your expression, gauging whatever personality she could distinguish from the unconscious cues of your body.

“Well, let’s schedule the date-”

“Maybe I was not clear, Agent N,” Riza abruptly turned, the edge of her cape brushing over your heels, “I want her. I want the marriage contract.”

The room went quiet again. Your breath stuttered in your chest, and you fought to maintain your composure, but it was all too sudden, too authoritarian for you to refrain from objection.

“Ms. Stavros, your eagerness is noted, but Ms. Radivayon is to be protected with diplomatic immunity, the period of dating is mandatory.” 

All Riza did was pick up a contract from the table, tearing it right down the middle.

“Then it’s no deal.” she said, much to your immediate relief.

The other men in the room, all dressed in identical black suits converged, quietly discussing with themselves. Agent N turned, taking a fresh contract off of the printer. Time stretched on, and you felt awkward, entirely ignored by everyone, even Riza who made a point of keeping her back turned.

“An exception can be made, with limits. There will be an escape clause for Ms. Radivayon, but a pro bono marriage contract will be permitted.” Agent N cooley said, offering the both of you two crisp contracts.

You stared down, noting the ‘escape clause’ outlined. Only in the case of abuse, violent threats or special circumstances made at the Men in Black’s discretion could this contract end. Nothing about your career, about your freedoms, and to your horror, your signature was already printed. Beneath the line was an asterisk, “The above party has consented by assumption of citizenship.” Assumption of citizenship… Assumption of.. What? It was all too complicated and vague, it was happening too fast…

“Excuse me, but since when was there no ‘I do’ in this equation?” you snapped, voice betraying  the barest twinge of anxiety.

The men in the room looked at one another, each displaying their own subtle signs of discomfort. Riza herself raised a brow, displeased. Agent N’s mustache twitched again.

“Your ‘I do’ is a stipulation of your sanctuary on Earth. Otherwise you will be deported without due process. You are now legally, intergalactically recognized as the lawful spouse of this Ms. Riza Stavros.”

Whatever words of protest you had, the clever, spiteful, colorful phrases you were about to throw at every single one of these agents died. You didn’t have a choice. Without due process you had no way of extending residency on Earth, of seeking political asylum. The intergalactic courts had limited jurisdiction over Earth, and a plea would take… This was simply your only choice, blackmail or otherwise.

Riza had turned, looking at you slyly as she signed the contract in front of her. Agent N took it, nodding at Riza to move forward. She turned, sauntering over towards you with a pleased expression on her face.

“Well. Let’s skip the doom and gloom, come on love.” Riza hummed, extending one of her front hands for you to take.

It was too much for you to process both your arranged marriage and now the expectancy of touch. You clasped your hands together, completely avoiding her eyes. Her hand could shrivel and fall off, you’d never take it anyways. 

“I need to gather my things from the hotel.” 

Your voice sounded as shaky and unsure as you felt. The excuse was weak, she knew it was weak. Riza’s face twitched. It could have been a tell for a thousand different thoughts and emotions, but you didn’t know Riza. Not one bit. But she, for better or worse, held the reins in your union; you were married until she got bored. You prayed it would be sooner than later.

“... You don’t seriously believe you’ll need anything, do you?” Riza’s face crinkled.

The face twitch was a tell of anger, a tell you picked up on too late.

“I understand you’re impatient-” you tried.

“I am. There’s nothing to wait for, no reason to delay.” Riza huffed, crossing her three arms in an almost pretzel-like shape.

Agent N gestured to Riza from behind her back, looking at you imploringly. Everyone was being affected by your delays. 

“You can’t make one allowance for me? Everything I own is in that hotel. I am tempted to make an ultimatum.” you said, glaring up at her sourly.

Riza took a long breath in, her face set into an unblinking mask of consideration. She adjusted her cloak on her shoulders, reaching up to fix her bangs.

“Fine. Can her things be sent for?” Riza asked, pursing her lips.

“Yes. I will have them sent to your ship by the hour.” Agent N said, opening the door and departing.

The agents frantically shuffled out, leaving you alone with this perfect, dangerous stranger. The room grew awkward. You didn’t make conversation, both out of spite and sheer incompetence. What do you say to a weapons dealer that’s more or less bought your hand in marriage? Could you say anything casual, or even mildly conversational without growing sarcastic or cynical? Probably not. She must have felt that same barrier, because she just stared. Her blue eyes looked almost inhumanly piercing when they were framed in the dark kohl. It made the very action of opening your mouth to speak impossible. There was a five pound bag of sand atop your tongue, and it filled your throat with grainy substrate until the very act of breathing felt like defiance. 

“This isn’t the ideal way to meet the person you’re supposed to be married to.” Riza drawled, examining her nails.

You let out a deep breath, letting out a tired laugh. She seemed moderately pleased with the reaction, stepping closer.

“No it’s not.”

Once again she sighed, making a motion for you to follow her as she made her way out of the door.

“Come on.” Riza tiredly gestured, hardly sparing a backwards glance.

←→

Riza lived in paradise. A beautiful island, tropical weather and enough employees to keep her fortress supplied with all of the necessities a girl could wish for. But since yesterday you hadn’t seen her. The marriage contract had been signed, you’d taken a residential air ship out to her island… And then she’d disappeared into her office. You were left to unpack your things, to fill a small section of the master bedroom you were to share with Riza. That was the only direction she’d given, to make yourself at home. Underneath a palm tree, sipping a mojito… It was as good as it was going to get for you. Riza’s voice broke the silence before her presence did.

“... Yes, I know. We had an agreement, I was to ship those blasters out last Wednesday, but supply is low, and I have to find new channels for weapons distributions. I’m in an arrangement with MiB and the Intergalactic councils… Well that’s not my fault is it?” Riza drawled, slipping beside you on the padded swingset without sparing a glance.

Her third arm snaked around your middle, pulling you close without even hinting at a request to do so. Her argument with her client had ripped whatever sense of relaxation from you, and the continued argument, the touching, the lack of boundaries was enough for you to start seeing red.

“No, I don’t do contracts by word of mouth. No. I said no. I’m forwarding you to my secretary.” Riza finished, hanging up her phone and dropping it a moment later. 

The tribrachian gave a long, exhaustive sigh, slumping back into the cushions of the swingset. She finally turned to look at you, a pleased hum rumbling from her chest. The glare you were giving her didn’t seem to phase her one bit, merely giving a sympathetic frown in response.

“I know. I’ve been neglecting my little wife because of work.” Riza cooed, entirely assumptive regarding your feelings. “I’m here now. I promise we’ll be able to get in some time for a proper honeymoon in a month or two.”

Honeymoon. You almost gagged. Riza outright laughed at your disgust, curling closer to you instead of pulling away.

“You’re my wife, dear. Not my slave. I know it’s early yet to be having intimacies.” Riza said, taking a sneaky whiff of your hair. “And yet I’m quite impatient. You’ve been on my mind since I got the booklet.”

The booklet? Had the MiB given her a catalogue, some sort of ‘mail order bride’ in exchange for her cooperation with diplomatic relations? The thought felt both nauseating and ironic. She’d had a choice, so much so that you’d been her first choice. And yet what were you but a pawn? Choosing between death or arranged marriage.

“Darling, we are going to have the time of our lives here pretty soon.” Riza promised, trying and failing to counter your resistance against her caresses.

“The time of your life.” you snapped, abandoning your mojito in the hopes of slipping out of her unwanted clutches.

Riza let out a plaintative groan, something distinctly childish, spoiled. 

“Come on, I just sat down!” 

She followed you through the garden, making repetitive swipes at your arms until you were practically running from her. Birds cawed and screeched in alarm as you took a detour through a large cluster of foliage, navigating the bark dust in flimsy house shoes. She caught up quickly, practically outpacing you even with the various tree branches smacking at her face. Her arms encircled you, a growl of victory against your ear when a tree root caught your ankle, sending you careening into a patch of fancy azaleas. Riza’s desperate grasp, the unbalanced attempt to stop your running brought her crashing down with you, crumpled in a heap of fancy azaleas.

Her elbow, met your ribs, your skull her chin, and your leg her crotch. The two of you were left groaning, tangled in each other’s limbs as the world spun. Riza was the first to move, gently untangling her arms from you until she could rest on her side. Your head had smacked against a stone paver. Not hard enough to be concussive, but hard enough to hurt. 

“Bitch. I hit my head.” you whined, trying to slip out of her arms.

“Yeah? You kneed my crotch. Asshole.” Riza wheezed, face scrunched up in immense pain.

You wanted to laugh, to find vindication at her complaint, but a part of you paused. There was something about the Tribrachian species, an old joke you’d heard about their culture. ‘Even if the men have strong arms,  the women have bigger dicks to compensate.’ It had been vulgar, a bit weird and what you assumed to be a metaphor. But now…

“You don’t have anything… Delicate down there, do you?” 

Riza stared up at you in pained anguish, letting out a laugh that turned into a moan of pain.

“Just… The family jewels.” she gasped, her third arm wrapped protectively around what you assumed to be her pubic bone.

It wasn’t a rumor, not at all. Tribrachian woman had… Penises. Full on appendages dangling between their legs. Riza’s breathing only got more labored, and she rolled you onto your side, slumping against you.

“Get… Get off!” you groaned, trying to push her off with no success.

Your head hurt like a bitch, and putting pressure on it lying on your side was making it worse.

“Stop, stop. Let me…” Riza groaned, finally adjusting her pelvis until your knee wasn’t poking into it. 

An arm slipped beneath your neck, elevating your head. The pressure went away, replaced with only dull throbbing. The fight had left you, all that remained was exhaustion and a bit of pain.

“You hit your head?” Riza broke the silence, carefully bringing her third hand down, stroking over the tender spot.

Her voice was so low, genuinely concerned instead of performative. You met her eyes, looking beyond the dark kohl, beyond the strange hair… Riza was quite pretty. As pretty as the first glance, but now you were recognizing it again.

“Yeah.” 

Riza gently pulled you closer, making herself comfortable in the patch of trampled flowers.

“I’m not as shallow as you think I am.” Riza began, gently tapping your nose. “I have an eye for beauty, for beautiful things, but I was given a choice between twenty beautiful humans. I liked the way you stare at the camera, like you’re challenging it.”

Every word spoken seemed to bring her lips closer, her eyes tender, but hungry. It filled you with a spike of excitement, seeing her so focused on you. The attention was flattering, at the very least.

“Your attitude is….” Riza began, breaking off into a flustered chuckle, leaning in until your foreheads were a few inches apart. “Don’t let me scare you away, okay pumpkin?”

You rolled your eyes, picking up on her desire for closeness. One gentle tilt of your head was all it took for Riza to finally kiss you, lips meeting in a tender, searching smooch. 

“You gonna let me up now?” you whispered against her lips, opening her eyes to catch her staring softly. “Absolutely not.” she snorted, bringing you to straddle her lap as those three arms wrapped tighter around you. “I’m having the time of my life.”

[alien-dyke]

internalized homophobia SUCKS!!! what do you mean i'm still deeply struggling with accepting myself I was supposed to get over that when I was 14!!!!

[theartofarandaadams]

Happy International Alien Day

Every now and then, I like to dip back into the Invader Zim well.