#have no faith in a system that starves you

[snekdood]

Yknow what makes me reaentful? How ive been sexually abused so much growing up, no one did shit besides shove me off to a therapist, ive been promised by feminist spaces that ill have a place to heal within them, and as soon as my abusive ex tries to smear me and project their behavior on to me by accusing me of doing that shit too, all the sudden everyone acts suspicious, and i still dont get any of that promised healing. Its hard not to feel like my ex did this intentionally to prevent me from having a space to heal. And its my issue with the "believe victims" narrative because it seems to me like people dont actually want to believe victims but to believe the victims they *like* and *agree more with politically*. If people can just say whatever about someone and you feel obligated to believe them because "believe victims", its very clearly going to be exploited by abusive people, and while i dont think we should stop per se, we need to have some sort of actual system to vet who is and isnt telling the truth, like a pseudo-courtroom. At the very least let everyone and their side of the story actually be heard. Bc idk how you guys plan to believe two victims at once who are accusing eachother other than throwing your hands up and picking one or deciding that we're both bad, which doesnt seem very fair to me since people seem to looove demonizing me for no discernable reason.

[ohnoitstbskyen]

re: Somerton

Not for nothing, but I think we should remember that James Somerton's fans and subscribers are normal people, just like you. They are people who received his output in good faith, and extended to him a normal amount of grace and benefit of the doubt, which he took advantage of.

I don't think it's helpful to respond to the exposé on Somerton with sentiments along the lines of "wow, how could anyone ever think THIS GUY'S videos were any good, ha ha ha, how did he ever get subscribers?" because 1) you have the substantial benefit of hindsight and a disengaged outsider perspective, and 2) it's a rhetoric that creates a divide between you (refined, savvy, smart, sophisticated) and Somerton's audience (gullible, unrefined, easily taken advantage of, terrible taste), which is a false divide, with a false sense of security.

Somerton's success happened because he stole good writing. He found interesting, insightful, in-depth work done by other people, applied the one skill he actually has which is marketing, and re-packaged it as his own. He targeted a market which is starving for the exact kind of writing he was stealing, and pushed his audience to disengage from sources that conflicted with him.

Hbomberguy makes this point in his exposé video: good queer writing is hard to find and incredibly easy to lose. The writers Somerton stole from were often poor or precarious, writing freelance work for small circles under shitty conditions, without the means or the reach or the privileges necessary to find bigger markets. And, as Hbomb demonstrated, when people did discover Somerton's plagiarism, he used his substantial audience to hound them away and dissuade anyone else from trying to hold him accountable.

He stole queer writing by marginalized people, about experiences and perspectives that people are desperate to hear more about, and even if his delivery and aesthetics were naff, his words resonated with people because the original writers who actually wrote them poured their goddamn hearts and souls into it.

Somerton also maintained a consistent narrative of persecution and marginalization about himself. He took the plain truth, which is that queer people and perspectives are discriminated against, and worked that into a story about himself as a lone, brave truth-teller, daring to voice an authentic queer perspective, constantly beset by bigots and adversaries who sought to tear him down. As @aranock, who works with some of the people he targeted, writes in this post, Somerton weaponized whatever casual bias and bigotry he could find in his audience to reinforce his me vs them narrative (usually misogyny and various forms of transphobia), which is what grifters do. They find a vulnerable thread in a community and pull on it. And while you may not have the particular vulnerability that he exploited, you do have vulnerabilities, and they can be exploited too.

People felt compelled to support him, even if his work was sometimes shoddy, because he presented himself as a vulnerable, marginalized person in need of help, he pulled on that vulnerable thread.

Again, he has a degree in marketing, and just like propaganda, nobody is immune to marketing.

YouTube as a system is set up to push for more, constantly more. More content, more videos, more output, more more more more, and part of Somerton and Illuminaughty's success was their ability to push out large amounts of content to the hungry algorithm, even if it was of inferior quality. The algorithm rewarded their volume of output with more eyeballs and attention, and therefore more opportunities to find people who were vulnerable to their grift.

It is a system which quite literally rewards the exact kind of plagiarism that they do, because watch-time and engagement are easily measurable metrics for a corporation, and academic rigor is not. There is pressure to deliver, and a lot of rewards to gain from cutting corners to do it.

Somerton and Illuminaughty and Internet Historian are extreme and very obvious cases, so blatant that you can make a four hour video essay exposing what they've done, but the vast majority of this kind of plagiarism isn't going to be obvious - sometimes it might not even be obvious to the people who are doing it. Casual plagiarism is endemic to the modern internet, and most people don't get educated on what the exact boundaries are between proper sourcing and quoting vs plagiarizing. We had an entire course module at my university aimed at teaching students the exact differences and definitions, and people still made good faith mistakes in their essays and papers that they had to learn to correct during their education.

All of this to say: it is extremely easy in hindsight to call Somerton's work shitty and shoddy, his aesthetics flat and uninspired, and to imagine that as a sophisticated person with good taste and critical faculties, you would never be taken in by this kind of grifter. It is extremely easy to distance yourself from the people he preyed on, and imagine that you will never have to worry about your fave doing your dirty like that.

But part of the point of Hbomberguy's video is that plagiarism is extremely easy to get away with, and often difficult for the average person to spot and call out, and with the rise of AI tools blurring the lines even further, it is not going to get any easier.

So I think we should resist the temptation to think of Somerton's audience as people with bad taste and poor faculties. We should resist the temptation to distance ourselves from the perfectly normal people he preyed on. Many times in your life, a modestly clever man with a marketing degree has fooled you too.

On a personal note, by the same token, I am resisting the temptation to assume that I am too good to be vulnerable to the systemic pressures that produced Somerton and Illuminaughty. No, I've never made a video by word-for-word reciting someone else's work, but I know for a fact that I could do a better job of double-checking my work and citing my sources. I feel the exact same pressure to get a video out as fast as possible, I have the exact same rewards dangled in front of me by YouTube as a platform, and I can't pretend it doesn't affect my work. To me, Hbomb's video felt like a wake-up call to do better.

[psychotrenny]

I think one of Imperialism's most evil strategies is the national scale torture you'll see inflicted on countries that dare to dream of freedom. Like it's not just about overthrowing the anti-imperialist regime itself, but utterly breaking the very social, economic and in turn psychological foundations it's built upon. Prolonged periods of destruction that are as systematic as they are sadistic with the aim of making life unlivable until the government either collapses or gives in, accepting whatever concessions are forced upon them as the nation is remoulded into an dependent and obedient little neocolony.

Sometimes an imperialist power will act directly to achieve this (just take the gratuitous and deliberate destruction of civil infrastructure during the bombings of Yugoslavia and Iraq), but the preferred strategy is to employ local proxies. Groups like RENAMO in Mozambique or the Contras of Nicaragua. Bands of reactionaries, traitors and general desperadoes are gathered up, trained, armed and transported over the border at the expense of the Imperialists and their local collaborators. These armed groups have no interest in build mass support, of representing an alternative way of life. Their only purpose is destruction; killing, torturing, looting, burning whatever they can in order to bring their country to its knees. Frequently targeting important nodes in the networks that sustain the nation and the people's faith in it (bridges, rail depots, factories, hospitals and schools) but ultimately happy to attack whatever they can; every house burned or person tortured contributes to the climate of terror and corrosion of government credibility. Because when they kill these groups don't like to do it cleanly; their attacks generate countless reports immolation, disembowelment, victims hacked to pieces and left to bleed. But when possible they prefer to leave their victims alive and capable of further spreading their terror, inflicting the most vicious sorts of rape and mutilation on a mass scale

It's not just just evil for the sake of evil mind you. The cruelty has a point; human destruction to accompany the physical. Every person killed is someone who can no longer contribute to the development of the nation, while even living yet physically and psychologically broken victim places further strain on their country's increasingly fragile support systems. Meanwhile the terror of these actions spreads the impact beyond their immediate victims. The murder and torture of peasants makes the survivors too scared to go back into their fields, slowly starving the nation as the rural economy grind to a halt. The gruesome deaths of traders and travelers leaves the survivors too terrified to continue their business, shutting down the distributive networks that make national development and often life itself possible. The terror unleashed on foreign professionals can prompt the survivors to flee and discourage newcomers from arriving, depriving the underdeveloped economic and education systems of the skilled workers they need to improve or even function. And every broken body, ever broken mind, is proof of the government's weakness and ineptitude; a humiliating failure to protect their own people that demoralises supporters and empowers dissenters. The motivated sadism of these terrorist attacks is a microcosm of the motivated sadism displayed by their Imperialist backers

But why go to all this trouble? Why not just send in the paratroopers or organise a coup to end those troublesome regimes quickly? Sometimes it's a matter of possibility. As great as they are, the powers of Imperialist nations are not unlimited. All manner of constraints (domestic unrest, international condemnation which advantages dangerous rivals, the simple financial and human costs of such operations) limit what actions are viable or desirable. This is especially significant when the targets are motivated and disciplined anti-imperialists with a base of deep-rooted popular support, the sort of regime that won't go down to a simple commando raid or bribe to the right general. But sometimes, it's not enough to merely cut down a dissenting government; you have to salt the earth and make sure nothing similar ever grows back. I'll finish with the words of an anonymous Jesuit priest, talking about Nicaragua yet in terms widely relevant enough to be published in John Saul's conclusion to A Difficult Road: The Transition to Socialism in Mozambique (1985):

In Chile the Americans made a mistake. They cut off the revolution too abruptly. They killed the revolution but, as we can see from recent developments there, they didn't kill the dream. In Nicaragua, they're trying to kill the dream

[drdemonprince]

what was your journey from libertarian to leftest/anarchist like?

well, as a teen i hated authority and society and wanted complete freedom so i was a libertarian. then i realized i was gay and trans and libertarianism weren't gonna do shit for me. when obama won in 2008 i noticed that i felt relieved, even though i had not voted for him. I went away to academia shortly after that, and became surrounded by liberal people, all of them doing research with a liberal point of view, and what do you know, product of my social environment and queer and desperate for acceptance among the group that said they cared about me, I became a liberal too.

over time academia mistreated me and rejected me for who i really was, and i started to transition and realize that i was disabled. i became more left-leaning frankly because it seemed like that was the only way to be able to survive as what i was, identity wise, and find anyone at all who would correctly gender me or tolerate me. if you want to be able to hang out with other trans people and have them treat you right, there are values you basically have to say that you subscribe to. anyone who didn't subscribe to those political values was mistreated, viewed skeptically, talked to like they were dumb, and ostracized. and some of those values did make sense to me, whereas others didn't.

i saw people pushed to the social margins for being libertarians, for instance, as if that is a political ideology that carries any danger when some random trans woman with a very weak social support system says in a support group that she maybe kinda subscribes to it. i was even terrified of people finding out that i used to believe in anything "wrong" according to the social dogma, for a while. but i tried to make the most sense of the confusing tangle of community held beliefs as i could, so that i wouldnt be completely ostracized from both straight and queer society at once. and so I was vaguely leftist, but with a confused understanding of systemic oppression based on identity (among lots of other things, like abolition and anti-colonialism), and a deep terror of ever saying anything that would ever get me criticized/cancelled/viewed as a bad person.

and then the pandemic happened and i wasn't so beholden to mass community scrutiny anymore. i read a ton i looked at how politics actually plays out, and i got a little bit more capable and secure in myself and came to similarly feel awed by how much people are really capable of when they aren't being controlled or dependent upon approval in order to survive. and anarchy basically asserted that it had always been there in me, i just hadn't known the name for it. and by then i felt safe and strong enough and had enough faith in others to decide it was okay to have opinions that others disagreed with, and that i wouldn't starve out in the cold if i gave voice to them.

like a lot of people, i had misconceptions about what anarchism really was and writers like Graeber, Wengrow, Solnit, etc really disabused me of that notion and made me understand that it wasn't a scary worldview at all, it was the most human and accepting one there really was out there.

My political journey has not been especially principled or philosophical, it has been emotional, intuitive, and rooted in a lot of social influences. i think that's what most political ideologies are about for people, ultimately, belonging and safety.

I was originally a political scientist by training and in that field's body of research we see that most people do not have consistent political belief systems, they agree to a mish-mosh of statements and support various policies that don't all add up in a logically explicable way. they also don't tend to have stable views over time. just as i think morality is a pretty bad explanation of why humans do what they do, and why we help eachother and avoid doing harm, it's very evident that political ideology is a piss poor predictor of political behavior or affiliation. the far clearer explanation far more consistent with the evidence is that people politically align themselves based on their social milleu and their feelings.

this is why i always feel myself holding back from dying for a cause, and blanch when MLMs start talking about needing to do all they can to bring about communism with an almost religious fervor (beyond the fact that such thinking also doesn't line up with a lot of communist thought and theory about how capitalism falls anyway). i dont think that any of these ideologies really carry all that much weight or influence people's actions, affiliations, or political behavior on the level we all pretend that they do. i dont think they're "real". anarchy is more of a philosophy of how to relate to other people in daily life, for me, rather than a religion about how the world needs to be or where we specifically need to be heading. it's more big-I Ideological for plenty of other people, and again, i blanch when they start preaching about it as if their whole life is in service to the idea of it. I think we do anarchism by living as if we're free, every day. and that's what i care about, if i'm being honest. feeling free, safe, and cared for by some other people, without conditions, right now.

[sshadowritestoriess]

hihi!! Ty for answering my question lol 🫶 I was wondering if you could do nsfw hcs for ramattra, zen, and genji? gn afab if possible 🫰

Sure thing here’s some general hcs of mine!

Ramattra NSFW

He’s absolutely demisexual, probably even leaning on ace. Sex just isn’t something he thinks about or craves until there’s a very specific moment with someone he trusts that would make him consider it

He’d be entirely and completely shocked that a human would find attraction to him in that way. Cue this ravager being absolutely floored by the idea that he had somehow aroused someone just by existing

For your first time, he probably asked a couple hundred questions before either of you ended up doing anything

You’re certain? With him? What had he done to elicit this response? It’s not just an odd attraction to omnics in general? This really isn’t some twisted joke? What makes you believe he’d be a sufficient partner? You understand he can’t actually make anything of this, and that this would merely be for the sake of pleasure? What do you imagine him doing? You’re not afraid? What if he hurt you? Wait— you want him to do what to you—?!

He indulges your urges for the sake of his curiosity, and entertainment. While he would have a complete understanding of how the act of procreation works, he’d still have no clue what he’s doing. But to hell if he would admit that— he’s a very fast learner, after all

Zero performance anxiety despite his level of expertise. You hungered for him once, before ever knowing what he was capable of, and he had confidence that he could make sure you’d feel just as starved for him once again

He would find having control of your body’s reactions the most exciting part of this. He likes roaming his hands around you, feeling you up and watching you lean into his touch and make noises that encourage him to continue

He makes noises reminiscent to a purr when he’s satisfied with something.

But it’s also conflicting, learning to be gentle in this kind of setting. Everything else he’s ever done came with a roughness he was used to, always needing to exert some amount of strength. He fought humans, he’d never had to please one

So sex is rather more a form of play for him, and you his toy. He is more than capable of experiencing pleasure, and he doesn’t dislike it— but he prefers to see how quickly he can get you to come undone

Or, test how long you can last.

He’ll try to kiss you. A gentle pulse from his faceplate into your cheek or neck, that somewhat tickles and surprises you. And he’d do it again to hear your laugh while he curls his fingers in you

And he enjoys partaking in your kinks, if you have the confidence to share them. He wouldn’t be so against giving some things a try, and would find some that truly do enhance the experience for him as well

Anything that’s done to him would have to be earned with trust, however. Especially something like wireplay— delicate parts of himself that could cause uncomfortable damage if handled carelessly. You’d have to build up a lot of faith in order to get the sweet reward of his startled whimpers whenever you tug on such an intricate system

His orgasm is a slow system override that causes his entire body to go tense. Everything in him strains at once, overheating, and a low growl emits from his vocalizer for the few seconds it takes his form to practically attack itself with a harsh reset. He tends to grab tight to something as it happens, to the point of shaking as he fights against powering off, fans as loud as ever. And then he’ll relax, a huge sigh will leave him, and the small vents in his back will release hot air that got trapped in his chassis.

But now and again he may end up too overwhelmed that he is unable to remain conscious, and he will black out for a moment before restarting. He was just not built to endure these kinds of sensations, but that didn’t make the experience any less fun for him

Overall he does this mostly for you, more than he would for himself. He has pride that you would want for him in this way, and he has little reason to refuse it

Zenyatta NSFW

He’s not the best with implications, so you’d have to be pretty straightforward when you ask

And you’d be shocked, every time, to hear him calmly accept the invitation as if you’d merely asked him out for lunch.

Before you, he hadn’t met anyone who wanted to try such an activity with him before. He was very curious how this would go— then you’d find yourself bashful when he asks when and where like you were organizing a meeting: “Do you have a preferred time or place?”

Then when you both would meet, he would ask patiently, “Where do we begin?”

When he removes his clothes, he folds them neatly to the side— though with an efficient quickness that is typically unlike him

If you have him undress you, he does so in the same way he would for himself. Any buttons are carefully undone, zippers are slowly dealt with, and he’d ask so kindly for you to raise your arms when he lifts your top up over your head

Absolutely a service top. He has a preference to be told what you want and are feeling up to, and he will carry out these commands thoroughly

A hand will occasionally stray to where he wants it, though, if one of them isn’t too busy. This could either be him touching you or himself, depending on how far along you both are

He likes when you sit on top of him, so he can see everything that’s going on. His astral hands sometimes ghost around your form to enhance what ministrations he’s doing, or better keep you in place

But if you’re feeling a preference to top, he’s nothing short of eager to let you take full control of everything. He has complete trust in you that you wouldn’t do anything to harm him while vulnerable like this

He’s very verbal. He explained once, something about vocal release allowing for focus on another sense, or whatever. But regardless, he made some heavenly sounds when you would touch him

You knew how collected Zenyatta always was, so it was ethereal when you’d make him break character for a moment— whether that be something as little as hearing him cuss, or as great as making him lose his patience

And the latter was rare. There is a lot the monk can endure, seemingly without a breaking point. So in the event that he has been ‘fed up’, truly he just understood you wanted to get a rise out of him. So he would oblige, and turn things around for your amusement. Though he absolutely could have gone longer, he would not wish to bore you

He never marked you, he was always careful. Even if you asked him to be more rough, he wasn’t very interested in causing pain— but he would try, if it’s what you truly wanted.

He likes being surprised. Catching him off guard always gets a good noise out of him

But he also likes to take things slowly, as well. Truly relish in all the feelings and converse about what’s on your mind while he takes you— or while you coax him in

The first time he had orgasmed actually startled you— a brief flash of light emitted from his body that quickly vanished when he crossed his arms over his chest, arching into a loud moan, like he was trying to keep something in. It was quick, and he’d collapse again with heavy breaths, apologizing quickly for having scared you

And this happens just about every time. If you told him not to hold back, he would refuse— his astral form would only mitigate the build-up and he would be left without release

But he also really enjoys aftercare; putting you both back together. He likes rubbing your back after cleaning up the mess, and remains sat beside you until you’re ready to get up again— or sleep.

He loves basking in the afterglow with you, and sometimes he’ll also fall asleep. Even more rarely, he’ll fall asleep before you— but then you’d end up waking to having a meal in bed that he would have prepared just for you

Genji NSFW

He has scarcely had (if any at all) intimate moments with anyone ever since he was made anew. It’s just hard for him

As much as he’s come to terms with his body, there’s still some essence of repulsion that remains— it’s unnatural, this combination of metal and flesh. He finds it difficult to really be engaged with that kind of stuff anymore

He also just assumed no one would be interested, so he never initiated. You would kinda have to bring it up first, and probably even convince him that you’re serious

Genji would be very eager despite the distaste has for his body, though try to hide how ecstatic he is about someone wanting him the way he is anyways. Just another little nudge forward that made him feel better about himself

Even if it might have been awhile, he never lost his touch. You would find his hands as skillful with your body as he was with a blade, years of training guiding the ministrations that would make your legs tremble

He knows just where all the right spots are, and he’ll prod at them with vigor. He’ll have you come undone before he gets even gets a chance to please himself as well

He’ll keep his helmet on unless you ask to see him, and he’ll make you promise to have him put it back on if you feel at all put off by his appearance

But if you take his visor and put it on yourself, he would find it very difficult not to suddenly ravish you and cum as soon as possible

He would eat at your neck like a starved animal, biting a little too hard— but not long enough to earn a complaint. He’d suck and kiss at your skin fervently, leaving loving bruises in his wake to make sure you wouldn’t forget where he’s been

And god does he make a lot of noises. He’s very whiney, if it had to be described; drags of his breath eliciting quiet pulls of his voice in very whimper-like sounds. He could not keep quiet

Even when he ate you out, he was practically murmuring his gratitude around a mouthful of your sex as if this were the last thing he’d ever eat

He would be very passionate to give you as good of a time as he could possibly show, leaving no room for any disappointment. Faster? You got it. Touch here? Of course. You want to ride him? By all means.

He’s the quick and intense sort, but his libido would come racing back so he could go quite a few rounds. His stamina far outmatched yours

And after you’re done he would kiss your hands and thank you, then offer to run a bath for you. (With hope that you would invite him to join you, so he’d have further opportunity to tend to whatever tensions still lie beneath your skin)

[three--rings]

Leftists on Tumblr: See the electoral system and party politics is ALL BULLSHIT.

Therefore when I vote for Mickey Mouse and Trump gets elected, it's not my fault. Just like it's not the fault of all the other people who didn't do anything to stop it.

It's like people saying capitalism is bullshit and therefore when someone is standing before them saying "hey I'm starving can you give me a dollar" they lecture them about how money is all an illusion and they shouldn't be a slave to capitalism.

The fact that the system is corrupt and bullshit doesn't mean you can in good faith walk away from it and maintain your personal ideological purity.

Your responsibility as a human is to look at the choices in front of you and determine which option you have can do the most good.

Sure i GUESS not giving someone money for food isn't responsible for them going hungry because you didn't create the situation yourself. But what I WON'T do is fucking applaud you for sticking to your anti-capitalist ideals by letting someone starve. If you have the ability to make things a LITTLE BIT BETTER without significant harm to yourself in my morality you ARE OBLIGATED TO DO THAT.

"I don't believe in voting." Okay, well, fine, but I'M GOING TO JUDGE YOU FOR THAT. You don't get to dodge the opportunity to help people and then ask people to applaud you for your Complicated Moral Stance.

And yes, keeping gay marriage legal is helping people. Keeping right wing ideologues off the Supreme Court is helping people. Keeping trans healthcare legal is helping people. Keeping environmental protections in place is helping people. Keeping civil rights legislation in place is helping people. Keeping disability protections in place is helping people. Keeping regulations about food safety in place is helping people. Keeping banking regulations in place is helping people. Etc Etc Etc.

You deciding none of that matters because voting for democrats gives you the ick is the definition of selfish and I'm not throwing you a fucking parade for it.

[dreaisgrayte]

NSFW I See All | Kyojuro x reader

A/n: just a lil something ♡

MDNI/stalking/smut/mentions of plastic surgery/a bit psychotic/crazy loves crazy

I did it all for you. Our marriage fell apart because I was too complacent. I pushed you away with my lack of attention and late nights at work.

I will never make that mistake again.

You look beautiful tonight, your eyes aren't as puffy as the night you handed me the divorce papers. I could tell you'd been crying and it made my heart ache to know I'd been the reason. Yet, here you are, dining with me at the small Cafe you'd been frequenting after our separation. Though, all you seem to mention is my name. How much you loved me and how little faith you have in this ever working out.

Given the way you don't meet my eyes fully you don't know. How could you? I spent most of my money to make sure you wouldn't know. All I can think about is how good my plastic surgeon is and how delicious you'll taste cumming on my tongue like before I'd let you down.

I'd become a hungry man, starved even. I prayed to only drink your ambrosia, feast upon the supple flesh of your body, and worship you for eternity. I required no sustenance unless given by you.

"Kyojuro was good to me," my name from your lips brings my attention back to the physical you. For the last 3 months I'd been consumed by fantasies that the real you was a shock to my system. I was being selfish thinking of what I wanted to do with you when you're in front of me, craving the attention I hadn't been giving you.

I reach out to caress your bare arm, the contact nearly making me grow erect. A gentle smile curves the corners of my mouth upwards. "I can be good to you too." The words were said in earnest, but what I truly meant was I can be better for you. There wouldn't be a moment of dissatisfaction for you. I would fuck you until you were peacefully asleep, food ready when you awoke in the morning.

A smile flutters across your lips, the ache growing in the pit of my stomach as you lean forward. "Even if I'm still in love with my ex husband?" The boiling sensation floods over until I'm dripping with anticipation.

My cock had been tortured enough by the realistic memory of your cunt taking it to the very base. The temptation to grab your hand and lead you back to my car was growing by the second. "Especially then." I huff out and you lean back with a far off grin.

"Would you like to come back to my house?" You muse, your eyes finally staring into my own. "Back to our house?" Her words sink in after a beat and my eyes widen as I slowly turn to meet her gaze. "Really Kyojuro? Did you think your own wife wouldn't recognize you? Or could it be how careless you are about your surroundings?"

"What?" A cloudy emotion curls around my stomach as I watch the woman I've been obsessing over ever since I lost her.

You fold your hands under your chin, a leizurly grin molding your lips. "I was there Kyojuro, every time you were watching me I was watching you twice as hard."

I can feel my cock harden at the thought. "I knew there was a reason I couldn't let you go." I laugh, ready to leave this place and fuck you hard into the mattress of our room. You smirk.

"No, Kyojuro, I was the one that didn't let you go."

[misstrashchan]

So. What's the opposite of a sacrifice?

With the final episode looming it's a question we've been turning in our heads, so I wanted to give my best guess/analysis as to what it might be before Jon and Muna come to tear our hearts out in the final episode.

This is the question Hayward asks Paige, and later Carpenter, and it seems to be the underlying thematic statement of the series, in response to Carpenter's exposition in the first episode of the Silt Verses that introduces us to the fundamentals of the world and system they live in:

CARPENTER:

A god must feed.

A god must be fed.

This is a fact agreed upon across every territory in the Peninsula. And so, really, the only difference between the people born to the water and the people born to the land...

...is the precise nature of the sacrifice we need to make.

There is a God for anything in their world as long as there is someone believing in it. But all Gods need human sacrifices. A god must feed. A god must be fed.

These simple rules have been used as fascinating and horrifying metaphors of our modern society, and to explore themes of faith and sacrifice throughout the story.

And so the final question the last season proposes is if we can find a way to make something better, that can exist outside of this ultimately unsustainable exploitative system and the harm it inflicts upon ourselves and the world, when it has come to define so much of the way we live and how we think. And that means figuring out the opposite of a sacrifice, if they want to kill the idea, the lie, that is at the heart of their world.

At first I thought the opposite of a sacrifice, of offering up to the gods, was about killing your gods. Starving them out. Refusing to offer up anything. And that is part of it, I think. I mean it's literally been a repeating mantra of multiple characters this season once they've reached they're breaking points. Violence in revolution as a tool to overthrow oppresive systems is sometimes needed and necessary. But what about after? What kind of future or vision for a better world can there be? There needs to be something at the heart of that movement that isn't just about violence against their opressors, because you then define yourself in relation to them.

This is even illustrated in the Many Below god Paige created having predator and prey emeshed together, a movement defined by their resistance against the predators of the world, the beasts, cannot seperate themselves to meaningfully create a better future that exists outside of that dichotomy. I think Hayward realises that even earlier in S2:

HAYWARD:

There’s a hare in the grass, half-buried and bloodied.

A barn owl has latched onto its back, its talons driving deep into the flesh of the hare.

Both animals are dead.

Familiar black stone veins protrude from the carcass of the victim, twisting like branches, driving upwards into the predator’s skin.

Hare and owl are locked together, inseparably.

The god must have struck just as the prey died.

White crocus is flowering up from the two entwined bodies.

(Unhappily)

And suddenly I begin to feel deeply afraid.

It all makes me think of a dormouse, dead in the dirt, its ribs showing. Of rabbits, teeth chattering, hungering from their cages

I kick dust up over the corpses. Nudge them aside into the long grass so they can’t be seen from the path.

Paige doesn’t need to know about this, I tell myself.

There’s no sense in worrying her. Not yet.

Which then makes sense why he's the one proposing the question of what the opposite of a sacrifice is to Paige (and Carpenter), for this very reason.

I think the answer is pretty simple and yet, like most simple truths in this world, it's forgotten and overlooked or twisted as naïve.

Preservation. The opposite of a sacrifice is preservation. To better explain this let me use an example:

If someone who cared about you tells you you're working too hard at your thankless job, sacrificing your sleep, your time, your personal relationships, your physical and mental wellbeing, far past the point considered sane, they'd tell you to stop. To make sure you take care of yourself. Instead of endlessly feeding yourself into a machine to justify your existence.

Applied to the world of the Silt Verses, it's not just self preservation and caring for yourself. It's about caring for, protecting, and preserving the lives of those around you, that is the ultimate act of rebellion and political warfare, the first steps forward towards a better world. Caring for humanity.

Whenever our characters reach a breaking point of turning against their gods, there's a common thread of wanting to save their fellow man, and realising the inadequacy of a god's ability to do that. Whether that's somebody close to them (like Faulkner and Paige):

Or humanity as a whole (VAL and Shrue):

SHRUE:

Use them, pass them on, do not forget the suffering that keeps the engines of this world turning, forget the name of your god and cherish the name of your neighbour that was swallowed up by it-

Cherish your neighbour. Be kinder to one another.

This can even go back to Carpenter's rejection of the Trawler-Man back in S1, her fury at the fact those she loved had been eaten (her family) and would continue to be eaten (Faulkner).

CARPENTER:

(Yelling to the river)

It's over between us, you twin mouthed prick!

Do you hear me?

Does that stir you from your torpor? Pry the barnacles loose from your sodden ears?

My father and mother were Gregory and Sandra Glass. My grandmother was Adalina Glass. My brother was Em.

They died for you.

Every single one of them died for you and they thought it meant something.

My name is Carpenter. And I am still alive!

I have loved you for so long. I have tried to know you for so, so much longer.

And I'm done with you. Here and now. I'm not laying down my life for you.

I'm not dying, do you hear?

The same breaking point for Faulkner at turning against his parish and finally snapping is the idea of Carpenter being offered as a sacrifice, an offering returned, begging for her to live.

I must clarify this is my own interpretation of the question and themes the story proposes. I'm

I'm not sure we'll actually get a hard answer so much as different characters offering their own answers and us as the audience encouraged to think for ourselves what it might be. I think this is what Hayward's answer might be at least, anyway, because like me he's a corny motherfucker:

If a sacrifice is the idea that the most meaningful and transformative thing you can do is to give up your life, your sense of self, to die, then the opposite of that would be to try to keep on living, and finding meaning and transformation in that, surely?

[resident-quilt]

Shrue’s descent into radicalism and what the Silt Verses says about our world today

(also, regarding the giant poem that the episode titles make) ITS A TUMBLR ESSAY BABYYYYYYYYY

Kill your gods. Starve them out, topple their statues, forsake their comfort— Kill the stories that gave birth to them. Tear away your flesh that bears their marks.  Adjudicator Shrue, Ep. 43

The Silt Verses is a story born of its time, to a 21st century world which is slowly decaying—and everyone in it is doing their part to help it decay just a little bit faster. It speaks of capitalism, of corruption, of power and belief and environmental destruction and the rift between generations. When Charles tells Val he can’t really stand behind the idea of a family (“You wonder about what kind of world we’re bringing children into, y’know?”) I had to pause and gather myself; it’s something we hear from so many Gen Z’ers today.

But then Shrue’s speech came, and it made no sense.

Shrue calls for an end in any form it can be given. They call for the loss of all faith and love and community in the world; they call for us to kill the stories of our history, to kill the figures we believe in and the ones that give us hope. Anything, everything, all we can give to stop the decay and degradation of the world. They demand us to defeat the corrupt system we have built by trading our lives to do so.

If our words and stories sustain them, let us fall silent. If our communities rely on them, let us drift apart and die, lonely, in the polluted wilds amongst the howling winds of long forgotten deities.

It made no sense because TSV, most simplistically, embodies “no ethical consumption under capitalism”—and this solidly did not fit. So I cast about for an answer to what it all meant, because TSV had grown to be more than the “folks, look where capitalism got us” which I thought it to be. And Shrue's “we can’t do anything to escape the system but die” was just too flat a conclusion. 

Then I fell upon the poem compiled from each episode’s title.

It begins with the start of humanity: a story of things that have happened, things people have believed, things which have roamed the land from then til now. 

Let me speak first of revelations, and next of dark deceit. Then I’ll speak of champions, of lovers, gods and beasts.

And so the poem continues in a description of this story, until it eventually twists to become entirely self-destructive around Chapters 18-24. It's a reference to how everything in the TSV universe seems to eat itself: their system of gods, sacrifices, even the characters themselves.

If I could trace with bloodless fingers, if my hands could shape the flow, I’d bear this song to the precipice and rend us both to dust below.  We’d both go plunging downwards, one final fall from grace— I’d howl, I’d scream, in victory, and we’d be gone without a trace. 

At Chapter 25, we get a respite from the story. We get a short poetic break which concludes that yes, we’re doomed to die—but we continue as we are despite it, and write our story even if it’ll be lost in the end. It’s a classic conclusion that a lot of literature and poetry fall to, because it’s so very human. It’s a cliche, and it’s a cliche for a reason. 

But we’ll never be rid of each other, my song, my sorrow, and I,  So I’ll bear it trembling onwards: to drift on, to dream, to die.

With that, the poem progresses forward until it starts addressing our end and what happens when we face that. It screams of last-ditch efforts keep on believing, even as we plunge down and down and the world just gets worse and worse. Shrue’s speech takes place in “One Last Song of Revelations” (the title is so fitting!), where they vocalize their realization that their pacifist attitude isn’t doing shit to change anything. 

But when they switch towards radicalism because it’s, evidently, the only way anything will ever get done—the only way anything will get the exposure to maybe make an impact—they speak of the destruction of society as a whole. Not the eradication of capitalism, nor the installation of kinder gods, nor the lowering of sacrifice ceilings. They speak of true destruction. Utter destruction.

Shrue’s speech isn’t some call to action, nor does it embody any concrete ideology which the writers are trying to convey. It’s just an expression of desperation. Nothing is working; no one is listening. 

What this poem sounds like is a story of how our world goes. It's its birth, its self-destruction, its philosophical revelations, its finale.

When we began following Carpenter and Faulkner in the reeds of the White Gull River, we were consuming a commentary on capitalism. Now, it’s more. It’s a commentary, yes, but it’s not only that—it’s an exploration. The Silt Verses is a tragic exploration of our world as it connects to theirs, of how we’ve been driven so far and been corrupted so deeply that only radicalism makes a difference because only radicalism is what gets the notice and attention to spark moderate change. And that same radicalism is going to destroy the society we have left.

But it’s all the same in the end, because society's collapse was going to happen anyways. So at least someone had it in them to fight for something.

GAHHHH I LOVE THIS SHOW

[emisprocrastinatingbywriting]

Alone and Forsaken

Chapter 5 Summary:

You wake the next morning to find Joel gone, your heat now lighting up every nerve ending in your body. Meanwhile Joel, sent into a frenzy by your unexpected visitor, works to fortify your position. After slicing his hand on a piece of barbed wire, he returns to the cabin only to be met with a sight that has his knees weak. Can Joel keep his distance?

Warnings: Bad dreams, brief mentions of past abuse/violence, reader has a fucked up past y'all, heats, hurt/comfort, and SMUT, sooo much smut (Minors, DNI please)

A/N: Howdy y'all! I hope all of you have had an amazing week :) Things are heating up (no pun intended) between you and Joel. But first, a nightmare about reader's time in the pit. As always, take care of yourself first! Trigger warning for the dream but you can scroll through the first bit if that bothers you. Moving forward, major smuttyness brought to you by yours truly, enjoy!

Chapter 5/20

Chapter 5: Hunger

“You know, your mother has been worried sick about you for the past two months.”

The light that framed Josiah’s figure was blinding and you squinted at him as your eyes struggled to adjust to the light. The room that they had been keeping you in was windowless and dark, with cement walls being your only company aside from the guards for the past few weeks. Or was it months? The days blurred together as you wasted away in the pit, the cold hard floor soothing your aching bruises as you tried to keep a hold of your sanity. 

“I guess I should have expected as much, the guards told me that you haven’t been answering their questions no matter what… techniques they use,” he mused, moving forwards into the cell. 

You scooted back, trying to put as much distance between you as you could. Your back hit the wall and you wrapped your arms around your knees, watching as Josiah crouched down in front of you. His pale blue eyes raked over your figure, a look of disgust turning down the corners of his mouth. Josiah sighed, shaking his head before grabbing your face. His bloated fingers pinched your chin and you tried not to wince, unwilling to give him the satisfaction of knowing that you were uncomfortable. 

“When I took you and your mother in, I had believed you to be a little angel. You were always so sweet as a little girl but the second you presented, I knew that you would be trouble. Always sneaking off with that other omega, defying your mother and I and speaking out of turn,” he tsks, pinching your face until you groaned in pain. 

Josiah let go of your face, pushing your head back so that it smacked against the concrete behind you. A sharp crack of pain made tears begin to form on your lash line, and you tried your hardest not to let them fall as he sneered at you. Josiah stood, towering over you for a moment before moving back to lean against the wall across from you. 

“You know what I said to myself the last time you gave me cheek? I said, Josiah, that girl needs an alpha. A strong one like yourself to keep her in line, someone who keeps the faith and does not spare the rod. Lord knows she needs a good whooping every now and again,” Josiah said. 

A laugh came out of your mouth before you could stop it, the sound broken and hollow from the dryness burning your throat. After the physical punishments had failed, the guards had begun to starve you out. You didn’t even remember the last time you had anything in your system but you knew it was too long as your stomach pinched itself and grumbled for food. 

Josiah cocked an eyebrow at you, glaring down at you before he said, “You will be mated to Paul. He will keep you in line and get you back to the Lord’s embrace. That is not up for discussion. The only question is when. If you give up everyone who helped you leave, then I will let you go back to your husband and the two of you can solidify the bond as God intended.” 

“He is not my fucking husband, I never said yes at that stupid ceremony,” you seethed. 

“No, but I did, and I am your father. Omegas don’t get a say, you know that. Now, I’ve talked to Paul and luckily he’s willing to forget your little runaway act. He said he would chalk it up to typical hysteria and let it go, as long as you humble yourself and be the good little wife that you were made to be,” Josiah said calmly, barely acknowledging your outburst.

“I. Am. Not. Your. Property,” you said, ennunciating each word as you scowled at your stepfather. 

Josiah laughed, reaching back and knocking at the wall behind him. A group of guards crowded the doorway and looked towards him, clearly waiting for some sort of instruction. 

“Oh I know you aren’t my property anymore, you’re a married woman now. But unfortunately for you, sweet daughter, your husband has been wronged. You owe him a debt, and you disappeared before he could collect. Now, it’s my job as leader in our community to right wrongs, which means sometimes I have to remind people of their place,” he spat before turning and murmuring something to the men in the doorway. 

Two of the guards moved forward and grasped your arms, dragging you upwards as you thrashed. Josiah just stood there chuckling as the guards struggled to keep you from getting away. 

“Don’t worry, you’ll learn soon enough,” he said before he focused on the guards trying to wrangle you, “Throw her in the sweatbox, see if that jogs her memory at all.” 

“NO!,” you screamed as they yanked you down the hall, tears pouring down your cheeks at the thought of the cursed space.

The sweatbox was infamous within the community, tales from those that survived it becoming a powerful deterrent for everyone else. After being thrown into it three times since your capture, you understood why. Unbearably hot and cramped, the tiny room felt like you were confined on the surface of the sun. You begged the guards through your sobs, remembering the smell of your depleted body and how you had to sit in your own filth for days before they dragged you back to your cell. The guards paid no attention to your cries, barely even looking at you as they shoved you into the room. 

“PLEASE! NO! YOU CAN’T DO THIS!,” you screamed. 

You pounded on the metal door, feeling claustrophobic already in the room that gave you just enough space to sit with your knees folded into your chest. Sweat had already begun to trickle down your back from the heat. You jolted back, the peephole suddenly being ripped open. Josiah’s eyes met yours from the outside, his gaze unwavering and cold. 

“I hope you confess your sins soon child, before Paul comes to me to inquire about a new mate,” he snapped. 

“Please,” you begged, all of the fight in you depleted from fear. 

“Repent or he’ll have no use for you. Sinful omegas beget sinful pups, you’d be wise to remember that. I’d hate to have to comfort your mother because your husband decided he wanted a more… accommodating wife,” Josiah warned, his voice low and daunting. 

Before you could respond to his threat, he slammed the peephole shut, leaving you blind in the dark heat once more. 

-

A gasp escaped your lips as you shot up, sweat pouring down your face as your damp clothes clung to your frame. Your eyes wheeled around the room as you tried to remember where you were. Bookshelves, carvings, a guitar, the worn sofa and throw blankets. You sighed as you remembered that you were with Joel, you were safe. Josiah was dead and Paul? Well, hopefully he was dead too. 

You wiped your brow, the sweat still dripping from your hairline and you tried to calm your racing heart. Standing, you started towards the bedroom in search of Joel but a sharp pang from your core had you dropping down to your knees in front of the couch. You whined, clutching your stomach as a bright and pulsing ache screamed at you from your core. 

“Joel?,” you croaked, suddenly feeling very vulnerable. 

No answer. 

Where was he? You tried to call out again but another wave hit you, forcing wetness to drip down your quaking thighs. You looked down and groaned, realizing what was causing the storm brewing under your thin shorts. 

“JOEL?!,” you cried out more urgently, now needing him for an entirely different reason. 

When no answer arrived, you braced yourself on the couch before stumbling into the bedroom in search of him. Leaning into the wall for support, you inched towards the door as waves of slick soaked through your bottoms. Finally making it, you pushed the door open only to be met with the smell of something sharp and sterile. You stood in the doorway, bewildered at the smell of cleaning products. 

And then it all came back to you. 

The man grabbing you, the struggle, breaking away and throwing the vase in his direction, ripping at his hair as he tried to push his grimy hands up Joel’s shirt, being dragged down the hallway as you wailed and fought, him climbing on top of you and you beating at his chest as panic overwhelmed you, him raising his hand to slap you before he was torn away. 

You stared at the floor, remembering how Joel had defended you. You listened when he instructed you to go, but you had only made it about halfway down the hall before you stopped. A sense of protectiveness had shot through you, what if Joel needed your help? What if the man got the jump on him? You had turned on your heel and crept back into the room just in time to watch Joel snap the neck of your attacker. You hated to admit it, but as you watched his hulking frame tower over the other alpha, a twinge of desire had sparked from your core before you remembered the ordeal that you had just been through. 

Now, with the body gone and nothing left behind besides the stinging scent of lemon, the memory made you feel weak. Joel had protected you, he had provided, he had even comforted you afterwards and covered you in his own scent. You groaned at the thought, forcing yourself towards the bed. Flopping down, you expected to be greeted by the usual aroma of Joel only to find clean sheets devoid of the alpha.  

You cried out, shoving your face into the covers and trying to find any trace of him, but it became clear that he had stripped the bed after disposing of the intruder. Your core burned, sending painful jolts of desire as panic began to needle its way into your chest. 

Moving on autopilot, you ripped open the door to the closet. Stooping down, you collected all of the stolen clothes that you had been hiding from Joel. You shoved your face into the worn fabric, whining at the smell before dumping them on the bed. Tearing into the living room, you collected everything you could, bringing back every blanket or pillow that smelled even remotely like him. You even snagged the bath towel that hung in the bathroom for your pile. Semi-satisfied, you went to work, adjusting the items just so before your instincts signaled that the nest was complete. 

You sighed, feeling slightly less panicked but still nervous at Joel’s absence. You wondered briefly if you should go find him but the jolts coming from your soaking folds were enough to dissuade you of the notion. Instead you crawled into the center, cocooning yourself in Joel’s musk as a fresh wave of slick had you shimmying out of your clothes and flinging them to the floor. 

Grabbing at one of his well worn flannels, you breathed in his scent before shoving it in between your legs. Any sense of shame long since gone, you keened as your pulsing clit rubbed against the harsh fabric. You thought of Joel cutting the wood, of him providing for you so well, of him towering over the man, of him sucking at your neck, of him calling you his. You rocked your hips against the flannel, your clit catching on it and sending sparks up your spine as you tried to imagine it was Joel that you were rubbing yourself against. 

As you ground your hips down hard, with thoughts of Joel swirling through your mind and your heat growing in intensity, you tried hard not to let his absence worry you. Instead you focused on the friction building and the pleasant smell that overwhelmed your frantic senses. 

 - Joel - 

“Fuck,” Joel hissed, a sharp sting erupting from his hand as he caught his flesh on the wire. 

Holding it up to examine, Joel watched as his blood began to trickle from his rough palm down to his rolled up sleeve. He cussed again, sighing as he tore a strip from the t-shirt hidden under his sweater. As Joel wrapped up his fist, he took a moment to focus on his breathing. Trying to calm his pounding heart, he tried not to think of what was waiting for him back at the cabin. 

Joel had woken that morning confused. He couldn’t remember the last time he had slept without having his cruel memories jerk him back to consciousness. He had slept peacefully for the first time in a very long time, but his neck was fucking killing him. He groaned, cursing himself for getting so old. Lifting his head from the soft pillow that cradled his face, Joel propped himself up on his elbows. 

It took him a moment longer to notice you as his eyes adjusted to the early morning light that poured in from the windows, but then he did. His breath caught in his throat as he hovered over your sleeping form, watching your calm face and how your skin glowed with a light sheen of sweat. Looking down, Joel’s eyes widened as he realized where his face had been buried. A drool mark darkened the fabric across your chest, and he groaned as the fragrant air tickled his nose. Peppermint and lavender made his mouth water and his cock stir to life. 

Joel suddenly became very aware of how close he was to you. Your legs framed his hips, one hand loosely grasping the curls on the back of his head and the other laid upon his shoulder. He could feel the twitching in his pants responding to the feeling of your heated core against him, the wet fabric staining his jeans. It took everything in him to keep himself from grinding up against you. 

Joel imagined the gasp he would pull from your mouth as the seam of his jeans brushed against your throbbing clit. He imagined the way your eyes would blink open, squinting from the sun for a moment before zeroing in on him. He imagined grinding down against you once more, just to hear you moan, before capturing your soft lips. He - Fuck. 

Hips jerking back, Joel broke himself from the fantasies that were making his dick throb and leak into his jeans. He needed to get it together before he worked himself into a rut, your fever already clawing into the base of his being and drawing out his most primal instincts. 

As easily as he could, Joel extradited himself from your embrace. Stopping only momentarily to cover your sleeping body in a blanket, he moved forward and kissed your forehead. He gasped softly as he pulled away, an unfamiliar feeling wrapping around his heart but he shook it off, trying to push it as far from his mind as he could as he stood up.  

Quietly as he could, Joel had cleared the corpse and any proof that it had ever existed away from the cabin. He had worked diligently, almost growling at the memory as he covered the floor in harsh chemicals to pull the scent of your attacker from the wood grain. The contractor in him was shouting at him not to pour the scented cleaner over the finished wood but he ignored it. 

After finishing, he debated on what to do next. He stood over the couch for a moment, watching you sleep as he weighed his options. On one hand, he could crawl back over you and nuzzle himself into your sleeping form. He was sure that you would welcome him. On the other, a creeping sense of danger was making bile rise in his throat. He needed to keep you safe. 

Joel had left you, his need to keep you safe overwhelming the confusing emotions that you were eliciting from him. Taking into the surrounding trees, he moved quickly, setting up new traps and fencing around the cabin. He prayed that you wouldn’t go wandering off anytime soon, dreading having to unravel you from chicken wire.

With his hand throbbing and sweat covering his body, Joel knew it was time to go back. Turning back, he tried to go through every scenario in his head. You would be awake, it was too late in the morning for you to be still asleep. The thought of facing you made him attempt to slow his pace, but his nerves ensured that he reached the steps in record time. Joel stood at the front door for a moment, trying to steel himself before opening it. He sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose with his good hand momentarily before turning the handle. 

 - You - 

A fire raged in between your legs, tears flowing down your flushed face as your rutted against Joel’s towel. Leaning forward, you buried your face into the fabric surrounding you, huffing at the smell of him. Your hips worked frantically, whining as the rough fabric scratched at your swollen nub. Heat gathered at your center, pulling everything tight before a weak pulse of pleasure inched its way out of your glistening folds. 

Slick covering your thighs, you cried out in frustration. The smell of the absent alpha surrounded you, driving you into a frenzy. The towel that you rubbed yourself against was a poor excuse for the man who plagued your mind. The heat returned immediately, the pain making you grasp at the walls of your makeshift nest and whimper. 

“Jooooel,” you sobbed, a fresh wave of tears accompanying the slick pouring from in between your legs. 

“Christ darling.”

You gasped, scrambling to turn and face the gravelly voice. Flipping around, you moaned at the sight of him. 

Joel’s cheeks were bright red, sweat made his t-shirt cling to his chest, and his hands were clenched at his sides. You watched as he gulped, his gaze finding yours momentarily before raking down your naked body. You should be embarrassed, but as you watched how his eyes turned black as he watched your breasts heave from exertion and how he licked his lips at the drops of slick rolling down your thighs, you felt a boost of confidence surge through you. The way he looked at you made you feel wanted, sexy even, something you had never felt before. 

“Joel, please,” you called to him softly, a coy smile gracing your lips as you crawled towards the edge of the bed to meet him. 

You rose and placed your hands against his chest, leaning into him. Joel stood there motionless as he chewed on the inside of his cheek, clearly warring with himself as you wrapped your arms around his neck. With you scratching at the nape of it, he closed his eyes momentarily and let out a low moan. Hands twitching at his sides, he sighed before snapping them back open. Joel’s gaze was pleading as your face inched towards his. You stopped inches away from his lips, doubt creeping up through the tension that crackled in the stifling air. The doubt didn’t last long as Joel surprised you by surging forward. 

A soft noise came from you as Joel crashed his lips against yours in a soft yet determined kiss. His hands came up, one cradling the back of your neck and the other yanking your hips against his. You moaned into Joel’s mouth and he took the opportunity to tease your tongue with his own. Burning desire made your thighs shake as you clawed at the hem of his shirt. 

Breaking away momentarily, Joel ripped his shirt off before picking you up off of the bed. You yelped, giggling before your eyes rolled into the back of your head. A pathetic whimper crawled out of your throat as Joel began to mouth at your neck, the hardness of his length pressing against your bare core as he carried you over to the dresser. Placing you on top of it, Joel broke away again. 

Whining, you tried to capture his lips again but he pulled you back with the grip he had on the back of your neck.

“I need you to tell me that you want this baby, I need you to tell me now. ‘Cuz once I start,” Joel groaned, leaning forward to whisper in your ear, “I don’t think I’ll be able to stop.” 

Your thighs clamped against his hips, bucking up to grind yourself against the harsh denim. Eyes rolling back, your nails dug into Joel’s shoulders as he sucked angry marks into your sensitive skin. You tried to muster up a coherent response but all that came out of your mouth was something between a wail and a shout. 

Joel chuckled darkly, moving his head back to hold your face in one of his large palms. With his breath fanning over you and scarred chest on full display, you whined as his other hand moved down the length of your shuddering form. You carded your fingers through the smattering of hair on his chest, absentmindedly tracing over a random scar that formed an angry line as he rubbed soothing circles into your hips and thighs. He caught your hand with his own, making you meet his piercing gaze. A shudder ran down your spine from the way he looked at you. The name for that look rattled around your brain as Joel pulled your hand up to his mouth and kissed the back of it gently. You gasped as you watched him place it over his thundering heart. 

“Tell me darling, please. I can’t - you need to tell me that you want me. Please, I need to know that I can have ya,” Joel begged, the desperation in his voice making you dizzy. 

Gripping the back of his neck, you pulled him closer and kissed him hard. A soft hum came from him, his lips moving in tandem with yours as you tried to meld your bodies together. Ankles locking behind his back, you dug your heels into him to pull his hips into your own. This kiss was different, longing rolled off of the both of you like waves and crashed together as hands and mouths explored one another. 

You leaned back to catch your breath, watching as the string of spit that connected you stretched and broke. Eyes meeting once more, you suddenly couldn’t wait any longer. You needed him. You’ve needed him since the first day you met him. Hell, maybe you had always needed him, but that was too much to think about right now. Not as your abdomen cramped and a heat like no other screamed at you to rip open the rough denim that pushed against you. 

“Please alpha, I need you to fill me up. Make me yours Joel, please, please, please,” you cried as your shaky hands tried and failed to unbutton his jeans. 

Joel let out a feral moan before he launched himself towards you. Desperate now, Joel kissed you passionately, his teeth clacking against yours as he devoured you. He nibbled on your bottom lip before delving his tongue in to taste you, making your head spin and body ache with desire. Sucking on your tongue, Joel reached up to cup one of your breasts in his hand. He pinched your nipple between his fingers, rolling the nub and hardening it. 

Panting, you broke away to whine, “Please Joel.” 

He hummed, leaning forward to kiss your neck once more before trailing his lips down your body. His mustache prickled your skin, leaving goosebumps in his wake as he moved to wrap his lips around the opposite nipple. You cried out and flung your hands up to pull at his locks, eliciting a devastating moan from him. His other hand came up to play with your other breast as he sucked and bit at your now reddened nub. Joel kept up his attention on your breasts for what felt like ages as you begged. He laughed softly as you thrashed below him, letting up only to switch sides. Tears had begun to fall from your eyes, your frustration making you wiggle so much that the dresser knocked into the wall behind you. Joel chuckled again before pulling back to look at you properly. 

“You’re some squirrelly today darling,” he drawled, playing with the curls that covered your mound as you arched into him, “Something on your mind?” 

You whined and bucked, a frustrated noise leaving your lips as you playfully smacked his shoulder. Joel chuckled darkly, kissing your cheek sweetly before picking you up once more and tossing you on the bed. You flopped against it ungracefully, sitting up only to be knocked over as he grabbed you by the ankles and pulled you to the edge of the bed. Shivering as Joel stood over you, his eyes feasted on your vulnerable state. You gulped, beginning to feel self conscious at his primal gaze. 

“So fucking beautiful baby,” Joel breathed, moving to hover over you before leaning down and trailing his lips across your heated skin. 

He kissed over the scars and stretch marks, admiring the patch of hair above your seam for a moment before he pressed his nose into the curls and breathed in, moaning loudly as he rested his cheek against your thigh. Whining again, you begged him to crawl back up your body but he stayed put. Instead, you felt him pry your damp legs apart. 

“W-what are you doing?,” you asked through a gasping breath, hands clutching the sheets below you. 

“M’gonna make you feel good darling, get you all nice and ready for me,” he said softly before he leaned forward and licked a long stripe up your seam. 

A garbled, “Joel!,” left your mouth as he shoved his face into your core. 

Stubble chafing the inside of your thighs, you writhed on the bed as Joel’s long strokes had you pulsating. Feeling you grow impatient, he switched to calculated flicks, making your clit jump and a garbled moan bounce off the walls. Your mind was completely blank, the only coherent thought that you had was Joel, Joel, Joel, Joel… 

He was ravenous, sucking on your throbbing nub before moving down to shove his tongue into your core. You felt him crook his tongue inside of you, lapping up the slick that poured out of you. Hands flying to his hair, you shouted his name as he moved up again to suck at your clit, his fingers moving to breach your entrance. 

“J-Joel - AH! Oh my god, please Joel. I - fuuuuck,” you wailed as he slid one, then two fingers inside of you.

You had never been so full in your entire life. You had never been filled, period. Always nervous to try, warnings about purity haunting you even during the heights of your heats, you had satisfied yourself by grinding against whatever pillow or blanket you could find. Now, with two of Joel’s thick fingers pumping inside of your hole, and his mouth sucking and flicking at your clit, you felt a blinding pressure building embarrassingly fast. 

Nervous of the intense feeling building inside of you, you tried to scooch your hips back on the bed but Joel’s free arm clamped down over your mid section. Now, with his forearm pressing against your abdomen and his relentless pace doing wonders on your aching core, you had no choice but to feel the entirety of the pleasure that Joel was ripping from you. 

“C’mon baby, make that pussy cry for me, I know you can. You want to be a good girl for me, right sweetheart?,” Joel asked sweetly, his words making your head spin as his fingers picked up their pace inside of you. 

“Fuuuck yes, I wanna be good. I’ll be so good for you Joel. Please, please, please,” you sobbed, hips twitching with the pressure building inside of you, begging to be released. 

Joel’s fingers hooked against your walls, the calloused pads of his fingertips rubbing over a devastating spot inside of you that had you practically convulsing on the bed. Your heart rate sped up, blood pumping in your ears so loud that you could barely hear his response. 

“Good girl, now cum for me darling,” Joel said sternly, the tone of his voice making something inside of you melt as he lowered his mouth back down and sucked your clit hard. 

You wailed, hands pushing Joel’s skull into your center and heels digging into his back as you trembled. You barreled towards the precipice, letting yourself be overcome by Joel as you gushed around his digits. Babbling nonsense at him, you gasped and squeezed his fingers. Pleasure rocked through you, fraying all of the nerve endings in your body as Joel fucked you through it. His pace never faltering, he kept his mouth and fingers going even after the last contraction had weakly clutched him. Suddenly feeling the overstimulation, you whined and pushed at his head, trying to wiggle out from under his strong hold. 

“Quit it, I ain’t done,” Joel growled, his voice muffled as he spoke into your folds. 

The switch in Joel’s demeanor had your head spinning. He had always been so gentle with you, a true southern gentleman. Now, with his fingers pistoning roughly inside of your core, the wet sound of his hand smacking against your center echoing throughout the room, his presence was menacing. It only made you want him more. 

Any protest that you had soon vanished from your mind as Joel doubled down on his efforts. He sucked your poor clit in between his lips again, batting it with his tongue as he slid a third finger into you. You yelped at the sudden fullness, lungs fighting for air as your second orgasm barreled towards you. Black dots filled your vision as you tore at his scalp, worrying for a moment about hurting him before a feral noise sent vibrations through your pussy. 

“Fuuuck, Joooooel. Oh my - I fucking lo - oh my goood,” you moaned. 

Joel hummed, the vibrations of it buzzing against your clit and sending you flying off the deep end. You gasped, throwing your head back as your core locked his fingers in place, squeezing them almost painfully as ecstasy had you twisting in his grasp. You could hear him groan as more slick soaked his face, Joel slurping it up and prolonging the blinding pleasure that had you mumbling nonsense. 

Finally slowing, Joel carefully pulled his fingers from your core as you hissed. Bringing them up to his face, your eyes followed his movements as he separated them to watch the strings of arousal gleam in the daylight. His eyes met yours, a smirk forming on his face before he sucked his glistening fingers into his mouth. You gasped at the sight, having never seen anything like it. Moaning at the taste, Joel’s eyes raked over you as you laid panting and naked in front him. 

Weakly, you reached a hand out to him and he took it in his larger one, kissing the back of it sweetly before crawling up your body. With his lips kissing up your sternum, the heat was back now despite your two previous releases. Your hips bucked into him as he ran his teeth across the sensitive skin below your ear. Joel moaned at the friction, grinding his hips down into yours as he teased your gland. You wordlessly willed him to bite down, to seal the claim he already had over you, but he refrained. 

“Never thought I’d have ya like this darling. So sweet, so smart, so soft, and all fucking mine,” he mumbled, bruising your neck with his teeth. 

“Y-your, m’yours Joel. Please, I’ve never had someone like this. I-I-I need you, please, I need you to fuck me,” you begged, finally managing to shove his pants down his hips and gasping as his hard cock sprung from its confines. 

As you reached to grab it, Joel grabbed your hand and your eyes flicked up to meet his own. You whined, wanting to feel the warm length that pulsed against your slicked thigh. You were not an expert by any means, but you knew Joel was fucking huge and it made your mouth water. Pretty and thick, with veins running down the sides, a trimmed patch of curly hair gathering at the base, and a glob of precum pearling at his reddened tip, you needed to touch him. You fought against Joel’s hold on your hand but he demanded your attention. 

Joel’s chest heaved and you could tell he was fighting against his own instincts by stopping, but he pushed through, gripping your face and looking deep into your eyes. You stared back at him in confusion, frustrated as you wondered what the hold up was.

“Darling is this - have you never, uh… What do you mean you ain’t never had someone like this?,” Joel asked through panting breaths, the hair on his chest brushing up against your sensitive nipples. 

“Because I haven’t. I was with everyone at camp and then I was on the run, now m’here. Never wanted anyone before, never needed anybody before you,” you whispered, suddenly feeling shy as his eyes widened at your admission. 

“Shit,” Joel swore, blanching as he rolled off of you. 

“W-what?,” you croaked, eyes watering as he distanced himself from you again. 

You hauled yourself up and slid into his lap, chasing him without even thinking about it. Joel cursed, his bare cock now seated in between your folds as he tried to keep your hips from moving against his painfully hard cock. You whined, weakly shifting to try and spark some sort of friction between you as he hissed through his teeth. 

“Darling, f-fuck, I wouldn’t of done it like that if - oh sweet Jesus,” Joel groaned as you managed to rip one of his trembling hands off of your hips. 

Determined, you held his hand above his head as you rubbed your soaking seam against him, moaning as your clit caught on the tip of his dick. A fresh wave of slick coated him as you moved, helping you grind into Joel as he bit his bottom lip to keep his moans from spilling out. 

“I need you Joel. M’yours. Fuuuck, and you’re mine. This is all fucking mine, nobody else’s,” you growled, shocking the both of you as a wave of possessiveness washed over you.  

Something clicked in Joel’s brain as the words tumbled from your lips. Finally having enough, Joel flipped you on to your back and loomed over you. Pools of black boring into your soul, your walls fluttered against the emptiness his fingers left behind. As Joel watched your pussy twitch, you could practically hear the gears turning in his head before he came to a decision. 

“If you want me to stop, you tell me. If I’m hurting ya, you fucking tell me. Got it?,” Joel said seriously, making sure that your eyes met as he said it. 

Nodding before he had even stopped talking, you locked your ankles behind his back as he hiked your legs over his hips, bodies unbearably closer now. Joel leaned down, lips ghosting over yours as the need for him to fill you had you squirming against the solid wall of his chest. 

“Say it baby,” he chided gently. 

“Please Joel, I need you,” you whispered as your noses brushed against each other, his honeyed tone making your heart flutter. 

Joel kissed you fiercely and let one hand move down to run his fingers through your slit. He gathered up all the slick he could before he used it to pump himself, spreading your arousal up and down the length of him. He finally broke the intoxicating kiss, panting as he pressed himself against your opening, carefully pushing himself in the first few inches. Sweat began to form at your hairline as your body struggled to accommodate his size. Not only was Joel long but he was thick, your body fought against the intrusion as you winced. Joel grunted, clearly struggling as you squeezed him like a vice. 

“Fuck darling, you gotta - shit - you gotta relax and let me in,” Joel hissed, his brow furrowing as he tried to keep himself still.  

You nodded, moaning as he moved to capture your lips once more. As soft lips moved against yours and tongues mingled, you forgot about the heavy weight of his cock inside of you. With you distracted by his passionate kiss, Joel was able to slide in a few more inches. More slick came to greet him as your hole stretched and your fingernails left angry red lines down his back. Feeling emboldened by your response, Joel pushed through the last bit of resistance, sliding home and nestling himself in the cradle of your hips. 

“Fuck you’re so tight, fucking choking my cock darling. Jesus, little pussy’s so wet,” Joel whined unabashedly in your ear. 

You moaned, not used to Joel being so vocal. It was driving you crazy. His dirty words, mixed with the feeling of him carving out a space for himself inside you, had you nearing your end already. Mind long gone, you keened and tried to fuck yourself on him, pathetic little jolts to your hips making him gasp and groan. 

“Please fuck me Joel. I can take it, I swear. I’ll be good, I’m your good girl, I’m - oh!,” you cried out as Joel threw your legs over his shoulders, moving himself back carefully before thrusting forward again. 

His pace was slow but his thrusts hard, knocking the breath out of you each time. You choked on a whimper as he pressed forward and bumped against something that had a fresh wave of tears streaming down your face. Joel leaned forward, getting impossibly deeper as the curls at the base of his dick tickled your clit. Leaning forward, he kissed the tears on your cheeks, cooing softly as you hiccuped and whined. 

“Aw, my sweet girl, d’you like that? Like my cock stretching you out? Bet you won’t want another after this, ain’t nobody else gonna fuck you like this baby. Christ, do you hear her soaking for me? She’s fucking crying for my cock, isn’t she? Shi-i-t,” Joel growled, his hips picking up the pace slightly. 

You grabbed at his hair, his neck, his shoulders, anything to keep you grounded as you begged him for more. Joel gave you a devilish smile, making you squeak as his hips started slamming into you. Strings of your arousal dripped down Joel’s balls and soaked the hair on his thighs, making the curls glisten as he sucked at your neck again. Joel tore animalistic cries out of you as he pounded into your weeping hole, claiming you with each hard thrust. 

“Pleeease,” you pleaded, not even sure what you were pleading for as you weakly tried to meet his thrusts. 

Joel huffed a laugh through his moans, hips working double time as he felt your pussy begin to flutter around him. 

“What baby? Tell me what you want,” he crooned, moving one hand to brush through the cute patch of hair covering your mound, finding your clit and pressing down on it harshly with his thumb. 

Legs shaking and eyes watering, you locked eyes with Joel before you cried out, “You daddy, I want you!”

Joel’s pace slowed for a second as he took in what you said. Freezing, you wondered if you had crossed some sort of line. You weren’t even sure where that had come from, but it just seemed so right in the moment. An apology on the tip of your tongue, you were surprised by a primal growl rumbling out of Joel, making your already pulverized insides turn to mush as he pulled himself up on his knees. He moved you up on his lap as you helplessly wrapped your weakened arms around his neck once more. 

Faces pressed against one another, panting mouths sharing air and his cock almost unbearably deep, Joel grabbed your hips and began fucking you up and down on him. He speared into you so deep that you screamed, breath catching in your throat as he worked your limp body into a frenzy. Pleas, cries, and the slick sound of him moving inside of you filled the air. All of your senses were overwhelmed with Joel as panting mouths mashed into each other, lips greedily moving in tandem before breaking away again for air. The room spun as his heavy balls slapped against your ass, Joel moving faster and harder as your walls sucked him in. 

You were shocked at his strength. Joel effortlessly moved your body up and down his throbbing cock with one hand clutching your hip, the other moving to strum at your oversensitive clit. You squeaked, unable to do anything but hold on for dear life as he effortlessly dragged you closer and closer to your peak. 

“Say it again baby, whose pussy is this? Who gets to fuck you like this? Fuck, you’re too good for daddy sweet girl. Such a pretty thing, so smart, so strong, smell so fucking good. God - shit - say it please,” Joel moaned as he pressed into your clit harder. 

“Yours! D-daddy, I’m yours. Please, I can’t. Oh my fucking g- daddy please!,” you screamed, walls beginning to squeeze him brutally. 

Joel hissed, keeping up his pace as he kissed at every bit of skin his lips could reach, beginning to ramble as he neared his end. 

“S’right baby, daddy’s pussy, nobody else’s. M’yours too, fuck - anything you want from me is yours, just fucking stay, please fucking stay with me baby. I can’t lose - PLEASE baby, fuck, I need you to stay.” 

The desperation in his voice had you reaching out to grip his neck, bringing him down to meet your lips in a kiss filled promise. As you poured everything you had into the kiss, you felt something nudging at the outside of your hole. You gasped, looking down to see his knot forming and begging to be jammed into you. With your orgasm making your walls start to tighten around his cock, you were suddenly desperate for it. You ground yourself against his knot and Joel moaned as it began to tease your entrance. 

“F-fuck, you don’t have t- ah, oh shit,” Joel stuttered, his resolve breaking as your walls twitched against the base of it. 

“Knot me alpha. Shit - need you to fill me up so that I can feel you for days. Please daddy,” you begged, shattering any reservation in Joel’s mind. 

A grunt left Joel as he heeded your request, shoving himself forward. You cried out as you felt his thick knot lock the two of you together, pleasure boiling over as his cock began to twitch inside of you. Waves after waves crashed through both of you, walls contracting against his throbbing knot, each slight movement triggering another devastating round of ecstasy. You felt him spurting thick loads of cum inside of you, soothing the need that had been burning inside of you since waking up. Everytime you thought that he was done, a slight movement or twitch from one of you would have Joel crying out as he released again. 

You could feel your belly bloating from the mess he made inside of you. You tried to calm yourself, sensing that Joel was getting overstimulated as he tensed and shook but you couldn’t stop the way your walls clamped around him. Another orgasm had your vision blacking out around the edges, your voice hoarse as you called his name. Joel gasped, holding you close and pressing his face into your chest as his cock painfully released into you again and again and again. 

Finally spent, Joel carefully lowered you onto the bed. Groaning, Joel collapsed on top of you. The weight of his body was warm and comforting, pulling a purring noise from the back of your throat. He hummed, rubbing his face against the valley of your breasts as you began to play with his hair. With the heat satiated at last, you giggled at the feeling of his whiskers tickling your damp skin. Joel’s head popped up, pools of melted chocolate studying the lines on your face as you laughed. 

“What’s so funny baby?,” Joel asked, a grin evident in his voice. 

You settled, letting out a few more giggles before glancing down at his relaxed face, pushing his curls from his forehead as you smiled at him. 

“Nothing daddy, m’just happy,” you said softly. 

Joel barked out a laugh, groaning as the movement had his cock weakly twitching again. He shook his head, kissing his way up from between your breasts. He pressed his lips against yours softly, humming at the intimacy before pulling back and grinning down at you. 

“Daddy huh?,” Joel teased, watching as your cheeks reddened and you whacked his shoulder again. 

“You didn’t seem to mind,” you grumbled, looking away from him to study the wall in embarrassment. 

He laughed again, leaning forward and pressing soft kisses across your chest, neck, and face as you squealed and giggled. Joel kept kissing you until you were out of breath from laughter and pleading for him stop his sweet torture until he finally relented. Panting, you met his eyes once more as he looked at you with a softness that had butterflies erupting in your belly. A giddiness bubbled up to the surface and you bit your lip, suddenly feeling girlish and shy as Joel looked at you like you were the only person in the world. He leaned forward and kissed your forehead, pulling back and clearing the loose strands that stuck to your forehead off of your sweaty face. 

It was then that you noticed the poor excuse for a bandage that was wrapped around his palm, the center of it red with dried blood. You whined, panicking as you brought it up to your face to examine. Joel shushed you, shaking his head before you could get too worked up. 

“S’okay darling, I just sliced it when I was putting up some wire. Nothing to be worried about, I swear. Barely felt it,” he crooned, watching as you leaned forward and kissed the dark stain. 

“Why don’t you let me help next time?,” you asked, letting him go back to fixing your wild strands. 

He chuckled, “You really want to help me with choring that bad? It’s boring stuff. I wouldn’t want you to feel like you HAD to.” 

You whined, huffing impatiently at him as you rolled your eyes, “I’ve been bored Joel. I’m going nuts in here doing nothing all day. I would LOVE to help you with your ‘choring’.”

The last part made him snort as you tried (and failed) to mimic his deep twang. You giggled back at him, bodies brushing up against each other as the feeling of joy radiated off the pair of you. He watched you with a grin, noticing the way your nose scrunched up as you threw your head back in laughter. Joel grunted as your laughter made you clench around him, suddenly remembering that he was inside of you still. 

“I didn’t hurt you, did I? M’sorry if I did. I was trying so hard to stay gentle but fuck baby, you don’t know how hard its been for me to stay away from ya,” Joel asked, his concern cutting through the sweet moment. 

You kissed the hand that fussed over your messy hair, lips touching the bandage once more before you said, “Joel, you didn’t hurt me. That was everything I could have asked for. I’ve never felt so… wanted. Nobody’s ever made me feel like that.” 

Joel tsked, shaking his head and grumbling under his breath about how stupid every alpha in your life had been up until this point, how you were the prettiest damn thing he had ever saw, how he had no fucking clue how he got so lucky. A softer laugh tumbled out of you, breaking him from his reverie and making him smile.  

“Why’d you stay away?,” you asked softly, thumb gliding over the stubble on his cheeks. 

A sigh left Joel’s mouth and he looked down, his knot now deflated enough that he could ease himself out of your puffy folds. You whined, panic popping the bubble of comfort that had cradled you moments before. You were terrified that he was going to get up and leave you there. Trying not to cry, you cursed yourself for ruining the moment. He hushed you as you gripped his forearms, trying to assure you as he pulled away. 

“Shhh, it’s okay baby. I just need to clean you up and get something to fill that belly of yours. You need to eat before the heat comes back. Gotta keep your strength up for when my rut hits, reckon you’re gonna rip it out of me soon. Can already feel it coming,” he said carefully, massaging your sore hips as he inched off of the bed. 

You nodded, sniffling and whimpering as he made his way out of the room. You tried to remember his words as anxiety trickled into your pliant muscles, making you tense. Joel would be back, he would be back, he was just grabbing something to clean you up and some food, it’s okay, he won’t leave you…

A hiss came out of your mouth as you felt something cool and rough between your legs. Joel shushed you, softly cleaning the mess he had made of your core with a washcloth. Tossing it behind him, he lifted you up onto his lap, situating himself so that he was sitting against the headboard. Before you could nestle yourself into the crook of his neck, Joel stopped you. He brought a glass of water from the nightstand, placing it at your lips. You gulped down half of it in one go, surprised at how thirsty you were. 

“All of it baby,” he whispered when you paused, moving to tip the glass into your mouth again but you stopped him. 

Grabbing the glass from him, Joel raised an eyebrow as you placed the glass at his lips. You looked back at him sternly, daring him to defy you as you tipped the water into his mouth. He acquiesced, chugging down the rest of the water and placing the empty glass on the nightstand. Next, he grabbed a granola bar and presented it to you. You grumbled, not feeling particularly hungry but he was persistent as he shoved it at you again. 

“Share it with me?,” you asked softly, playing with his curls. 

Joel nodded, tearing the package open and breaking the nutty biscuit in two, ignoring the crumbly bits that fell onto the mess of sheets and clothes below. The two of you ate in silence, one of his big hands rubbing your thigh while you absentmindedly scratched his scalp. Finally finished, Joel let you lean forward and rest against him, your body straddling him and face shoved into the gland on his neck, snuffling at his musk. 

“Why?,” you asked again, your voice barely above a whisper. 

He tensed and you snuggled deeper into him, trying to cover his body with your own as you smelt his scent slightly sour with nerves. Joel huffed lightly at your knotted hair, trying to calm himself down before he answered you. 

“Darling I… There’s a lot of things you don’t know about me. Things I’ve done, horrible things… Some things I did to people that deserved it, others didn’t… And I’ve failed people that cared about me, too many fucking people. I couldn’t - I can’t fail you too,” Joel murmured against your hair, fingers now clutching your hips and holding you against him firmly. 

You hummed in acknowledgement, playing with his hair as you responded, “You couldn’t fail me Joel, not even if you tried.” 

Joel shook his head, his nerves threatening to break him out of the peace that you had cloaked him in. He pulled back and tried to speak, but you covered his mouth with your hand before he could. 

“Joel, I know you think that you’re no good but you are. You are good. You could’ve left me out there to die, but you didn’t. You helped me and you didn’t even ask for anything in return, a bad man wouldn’t do that. Whatever you had to do in the past to stay alive, I don’t care. I don’t care about any of it,” you said, letting him work through the words for a moment before you continued. 

He moved to protest, gripping your wrist and trying to pull your hand off of his mouth so that he could reject your words but you slapped his hand away. Joel guffawed under your hand, the feeling of it tickling your palm as he furrowed his brows in confusion. 

“I know that you… That losing Sarah must have killed you Joel,” you could feel him growing more uncomfortable but you pressed on, “But that wasn’t your fault. None of it was. And it doesn’t mean that you aren’t good, okay? You’re good Joel. You. Are. Good.” 

Joel watched you silently as you eased your hand off of his mouth, eyes shining as he cleared his throat. He nodded, swallowing thickly before he leaned forward and knocked his forehead against yours, shaky breaths fanning over your face. 

“S’not all darling. I can’t - I don’t know how to tell you… There’s so much more than just Sarah and I don’t know if I can ever - fuck,” he cussed, his eyes falling closed in frustration as words failed him. 

“I know Joel, I know. You’ll tell me when you’re ready. But until then, I’m not going anywhere m’kay? Hell, I’ve got things I haven’t told you yet either but I don’t care, none of that matters. You’re mine and I’m yours now, you’re gonna have to throw me out into the cold if you want me gone now,” you chided. 

Joel chuckled, shaking his head before he said, “I’d never kick ya out baby. Just don’t know why you’d want to be with a grumpy old man like me. M’sure you could find a decent man in Jackson, probably tons of men your age there” 

You shrugged playfully, pretending to think it over, “Hmmmm… well as tempting as that sounds, I think I’ll stick with you. Think I like my men a bit more experienced, no clue why. Daddy issues maybe?” 

“Shut up,” Joel said through a surprised laugh, flipping you over onto the bed and attacking your sides with tickles as you screeched and giggled. 

The heaviness pulled from the air, the two of you smiled at each other. Moving to get up again, Joel groaned when he saw the mess that you had made as the two of you had rolled around playfully on the bed. Sucking in a shaky breath, he watched your pussy begin to drip slick down your thighs once more, hole winking at him enticingly as he swore under his breath. 

“Oh fuck Joel, I’m sorry. I know you probably need a bit of a break, seeing as you’re a senior citizen and all,” you joked breathlessly, his head shooting up at the jab.

A mischievous grin spread across Joel’s face, pearly whites gleaming menacingly at you as his gaze turned ravenous. 

“Oh honey, you’ve got no fucking clue what this old man is capable of,” he chuckled. 

A witty response died in your throat, mind numbing pleasure soon making you scream for the man that had his face buried in your core. 

[jedi-hawkins]

"Strap in, kid. You're not gonna want to miss this view." - Sgt. Hunter

I've seen a few others make a tribute post for the batch and I felt some words pulling at my chest.

I was a latecomer to the fandom, I binged season 1 & 2 in July of last year and it's been a wild ride since. I've laughed and cried and everything in between. It's hard to even articulate what this show means to me.

I began my Star Wars journey like many others, with the original trilogy at some point in childhood (you could consider me a zillenial). I liked them, but I was much more of a Harry Potter nerd at the time, my head was at Hogwarts. The prequels, however captured my heart. I don't remember when I first watched TCW, but it's very clear my heart belongs to the times of the Republic.

Like things often do, other fandoms have faded out of my peak interests, Harry Potter, Hunger Games and Maximum Ride to name a few, but any time I've come back to Star Wars, it feels like coming home. A galaxy far far away so vast and full of hope and love and grief and sorrow.

The last year has been far from easy. For the last few years, that feels like all we've been saying, huh? But in all seriousness, I really did loose myself in the past year, but oddly enough, Star Wars was a constant for me, it was an escape. I joined tumblr right after I binged season 1 & 2 of The Bad Batch and immediately fell in love with the wonderful world of fans and writers and artists here.

At first, I was a lurker, just a name that popped into the reblogs, but I began interacting more and more. I've brushed on this with a couple people (so sorry for repeating myself), but it was actually through reading fanfiction, that I came to terms with the fact that I needed to leave a 2.5 year relationship. It's not that I 'fell out of love' with them or anything, I just realized I didn't trust them as much as I should, I didn't want to share as much as I should, I wasn't being fulfilled in the ways I needed. And for that, fanfic authors, I thank you. Please never stop creating.

I also learned a lot about myself, get ready cause I'm about to get cheesy.

Hunter, you brought me a lot of comfort. I saw how heavy the wellbeing of your squad weighed on your shoulders. How you sacrificed and starved yourself, mentally and emotionally for their safety and benefit. I've lived that more times than I can count and with you, I didn't feel quite as alone in that experience. Even though we never talked, and we never will, I feel like you saw me. Crosshair, you healed some of my faith in humanity. That people can change, they can see the error in their ways and turn against a system they just sort of slipped into. You reminded me that healing isn't linear, and that's okay. You reminded me that courage and bravery aren't the absence of fear, but they are going and facing the mountain despite every atom in your body telling you to turn the other way. Echo, you reminded me it's okay to leave a group if your goals don't align. That it's not always an "in or out" situation. They can still be your family, people you rely on and who can rely on you even if you're not sharing bunks or meals anymore. You also reminded me that no matter how dire a situation is, or how grumpy you may be, a little humor goes a long way. Wrecker, you reminded me that people's perception does not define who you are. You can be big and gentle. you can love explosions and destruction and still be very intuitive. You can take some time to process things and still be skilled and intelligent. You reminded me to take joy in the simple things, a Lula, some Mantel mix, an ice cone. Things are always a little better with a full belly. Omega, you brought back some of my childlike innocence. You approached the galaxy with wide eyes full of wonder and always gave people the benefit of the doubt. You never lost hope. Even though you had to grow up too fast, you didn't let it break you, you still opened your heart to anyone who would see it. Tech, dear Tech. You reminded me to never dull myself or apologize for being authentically me. That my interests and skills are a good thing, no matter how niche they are. That I shouldn't be embarrassed or feel annoying for my knowledge or my eagerness to share it. You reminded me that love and humor and kindness and connection come in all shapes and sizes.

I've also made friends in this fandom at a level I wasn't even expecting to. I've made connections beyond the galaxy of Star Wars and found love and support in amazing ways. I was pulled to create more than I have in a long time, writing, drawing, hell even building my own server.

For sake of not clogging people's notifications, fighting with Tumblr's tagging bugs, and inevitably forgetting to tag someone: You all know who you are. Three M's, Havoc Marauder.

I began writing this tribute post before I watched the finale, and I'm finishing it after the finale. I'll end my ramble with this:

Dee and Michelle, thank you for bringing these characters to life over the last four years. You two really were the heart and soul of this project and your voices will forever ring true as Clone Force 99. Filoni, thank you for creating the concepts for this wonderful show that has become such a big part of so many people's lives. Brad, thank you for the immense work you've put into the show, your direction will not be forgotten. Jen, Joel, KinerBros, and Noshir (The Four Horsemen), y'all are a bunch of trolls and I hate you for it. I'm sending you my therapy bills. (I mean thank you for your work too, but you've been playing with my emotions for the past three months so forgive me if I'm a bit bitter)

It has truly been an amazing view. I don't plan on going anywhere, the fandom is just getting started, I am on the edge of my seat for all the wonderful fan creation that are yet to come.

CT-9901 ~ Sergeant Hunter ~ Havoc 1

CT-9902 ~ Tech ~ Havoc 2

CT-9903 ~ Wrecker ~ Havoc 3

CT-9904 ~ Crosshair ~ Havoc 4

ARC-1409 ~ Echo

Omega ~ Havoc 5

Clone Force 99 ~ Signing off 🫡

[david-goldrock]

Hey, I'm sure you've been inundated with hateful messages since a fairly large blog pointed you out as a proud zionist. I don't think that's helpful for anyone and it speaks poorly of those who sent it. I'd like to ask you some questions though, and I won't call on you to answer them publicly but you may wish to reflect on them in private.

First, do you believe all the citizens of Palestine are guilty for what Hamas has done? If so, I might ask you why collective punishment was outlawed under the Geneva convention.

Second, why did the Israeli government need to make up a story about 40 beheaded babies, and why is that now debunked story worth so much more than the babies that have been killed by bombs or starved to death in Gaza now?

Third, why might the people of Gaza support Hamas? Even if you believe every single Palestinian does, why would such an awful terrorist group be so popular? Do you believe it is because they are just savages, frothing at the mouth to kill Jews and queers?

Fourth, what justifies the Nakba of the last century, the killing and displacement of 750,000 people?

Fifth, what of the documented cases going back decades of Israeli soldiers killing journalists, medics, and peaceful protesters, including non-Palestinians like Rachel Corrie? Why do you think she protested so vehemently?

Sixth, if you believe Israel has the right to reclaim the homeland of two thousand years ago, do you believe Native Americans have the right to violently take the land of the USA?

Finally, why do you think the Israeli organization Breaking the Silence exists, and what do their testimonies mean to you?

I see you enjoy Percy Jackson; those books were very dear to my heart when I was younger, specifically the messaging of compassion for others and standing up against unjust systems. There is no angry message that anyone could send that will make you change your mind, but I hope this, sent in good faith, might help you at least reflect.

Imma answer out of order, going from stuff that's related to the war, to stuff related to the conflict, to stuff pretty unrelated

Hey, I'm sure you've been inundated with hateful messages since a fairly large blog pointed you out as a proud zionist.

So that's what happened! that explains it, thanks

First, do you believe all the citizens of Palestine are guilty for what Hamas has done?

I guess you mean the civilian population as Hamas never declared independence. I do not consider them all guilty, but I consider many responsible, so let's break it down:

Guilty: any hamas memeber, any person who helps hamas (funds, weapon stashes, kindapee holding) and any person who volunteers or sends volunteers or incourage volunteers to serve as human sheidls. all of them are directly guilty

Responsable: reponsable is those who could have responded but don't. those who had information about the war and didn't share it with Israel, anybody who knows the location of kidnappees, terrorists or weapon stashes, etc.

The remaining, mostly children, are neither guilty nor responsible, and I am sorry they are in the crossfire. I wish hamas surrenders soon, but I am not very hopeful

why collective punishment was outlawed under the Geneva convention

collective punishment is outlawed because hurting those who aren't guilty is not okay, any child can tell you that. but this war isn't collective punishment. on the contrary: hamas members use the immence humanitarian support for the civilian population in gaza to remain afloat.

Second, why did the Israeli government need to make up a story about 40 beheaded babies

let's begin by saying that many babies were brutally murdered on Oct. 7, just so nobody gets any ideas

beheading specifically? well see, I was one of the people talking about the beheaded babies, so while I can't speak for my government, I can speak for myself

This was at a time things were pretty uncertain, and It wasn't clear what had and hadn't happened, and an esteemed journalist from abroad had made the claim, not the government, who only defended it. It felt like the horrors we saw were denied before we even got the moment to mourn for them. this is one of the few times in this war that Israel had shared false information, so I can see how one might get caught up on it, but this is 1 detail which was wrong, a few days after the horrific massecare.

babies that have been killed by bombs or starved to death in Gaza now?

I didn't see any proof for starvation, though I wouldn't be very surprised (even though gaza now gets almost twice as many humanitarian aid as it did on Oct. 6, much of the support goes to hamas, so maybe it did happen). About the bombs? I am not very glad about gazan babies and children dying by bomb strikes, but with all due respect, I prefer that the soliders we send into gaza stay alive than gazan children, so if a trapped house with a hamas base and a few children is standing, I prefer we bomb it than risk the lives of our soliders. you may disagree, that's an opinion, but I have friends in gaza at the moment, and I cannot go to another funeral, my heart has had enough

Third, why might the people of Gaza support Hamas? ... why would such an awful terrorist group be so popular?

For the same reason the rest of the arab world and some of the western world does: they kill jews. every time hamas does a terror attack, it's value in the polls skyrockets all over the middle east. they like to see dead jews. I genuinly wonder what other reason could it be in your mind? hamas and groups like it operated from before 1948, they are terrible for every infrastructure and chance for peace one might ever wish for, they call for the creation of a palestinian state on the entire land west of the jordan river, and for an Islamic caliphate, if you belive it's about land you understoon nothing

Even if you believe every single Palestinian does

Well, here is a poll from after Oct. 7

tell me yourself

Do you believe it is because they are just savages, frothing at the mouth to kill Jews and queers?

I do not think of them as savages, (hamas are worse than that, the rest are just misled by an awful culture that's filled to the brim with fundamental islamism), but yes, absolutly, they like hamas because they kill jews. they prefer them to fatah because fatah dares to talk with Israel. they support terrorist attacks, by the majority, they share candies when jews are slaughtered, yes, they like hamas because it is the main palestinian group killing jews.

Finally, why do you think the Israeli organization Breaking the Silence exists, and what do their testimonies mean to you?

This is the easiest question you could have given me, thank you. BTS, the extreme-left organization that supposedly devotes themselves to testemonies about IDF misconduct, are cowards.

I have seen their testemonies, and I have reviewd their cases, and I have 2 problems with them:

they generalize specific cases. one of their favorite stories is the story of how once a few soliders (I think in Hebron) were on duty on the time of the world cup, so they evacuated a family from their house for that day, confiscated their TV, and watched the game, what they tell you is that it's a common occourance, what they don't tell you is that It happened once, and the soliders were heavily (though not heavily enough) punished

they prefer to act as social justice warriors than doing the hard work. BTS has dozens of cases of solider misconduct, but many of them has never seen a court, military court or general court. they gather a bunch of evidence, and instead of acting as an increadible organization that keeps the sanctity of the weapon and take misbehaving soliders to court, they exagurate and publish those stories abroad, to get a pat on the back, give bs for antisemites to spew, and leave the soliders out in public. Instead of making both palestinians and israelis secure (because I don't want the guy who thought he can take sombody's home to watch the world cup to walk with me on the street either), they prefer getting a bit of praise from the enemies of the country and leave things be

>Sixth, if you believe Israel has the right to reclaim the homeland of two thousand years ago, do you believe Native Americans have the right to violently take the land of the USA?

That is less like '48 and more like the bar-cokhva revolt... there is an empire there and not an ungoverened body, the violence comes from the people and not the colonising force etc. but let's answer this quesiton anyway because of all of your questions, this one made me think the most

Yes and no. If the first people of the american continent wanted to reastablish governence they never had over empty streaches of land to have it, this is insane. But if the first people organized in a movement to reclaim some of the USA and establish independent states where they once lived, and at first tried a peaceful solution for years, I think I'd support their struggle, yes. That said, it would be suicidal. the time we tried to do something simmilar (the bar cochva revolt) it ended in 2000 years of diasporah, so while I'd support the cause, I'd not support a war against nuclear america, and neither would I support giving back times square or D.C, a settlement would have to be reached. I think many americans would support it as well, particularly from the left

Fourth, what justifies the Nakba of the last century, the killing and displacement of 750,000 people?

I think you were lied to about the nakba... the "nakba" is the event in which right after the establishment of Israel (the day after) a war broke out with 7 arab armies attacked the newform state. in this war, the arab leaders of the time told many arabs in the area to evacuate and return after the war is done and there are no more jews in Israel. in the mixed cities fights broke out, and the army that got there first expelled the population they didn't support (Hadera went jewish, Hebron went arab). lastly, a few (though very few) operations under plan D got arab out of their homes. remember: the jews in the entire arab world, including judea and sameria, got the same treatment, often worse. now for those so called "refugees" (calling the decendent of a person fleeing from a war he started and getting a foriegn ID or returning to live in the same land under a different governance "refugee" is absurd. by that defenition I am a judean-polish-czechoslovakian refugee, even though I was born here) that UNRWA talks about now? they don't have "a right to return" any more than a roman or greek person does. the latest coloniser thinks they can get special treatment. for their property? they can get compensation once the entirety of europe and MENA gives Israel the tens of bilions of dollars worth of property that was stolen from them in '39 and '48.

Fifth, what of the documented cases going back decades of Israeli soldiers killing journalists, medics

I have seen none, I have seen, many, MANY, cases though, of "medics" and "journalists" with guns and suicide bombers.

and peaceful protestors

whats peaceful to you? throwing rocks at soliders? many die from these attacks each year. crossing the border? that would get you arrested or killed in any country except in europe

Rachel Corrie

Well, I am sorry that she died, there certainly was a better way to deal with the situation. The supreme court of israel (which is very left leaning) determined that her actions constituded an act of war and such the soliders are not guilty. I disagree, but you cannot pretend like this is either A. a common occourance or B. a clear case of non-violent proccess. her actions were, and I quote the surprmeme court:

I see you enjoy Percy Jackson; those books were very dear to my heart when I was younger, specifically the messaging of compassion for others and standing up against unjust systems.

Well, I see percy jackson as more about acceptance and breaking cycles of violence, but idk. I do think we should stand up against bad systems, and believe me, I could fill a book with the troubles that I have with the IDF. it often puts things under the rug, sacrafices Israeli lives to look better, and many other problems, but I don't think it is unjust. on the contrary, I think any army in the world, and epecially the US's one, would have flattned gaza on the 8th. the IDF is the most moral army in the world (it is the only one even trying)

Hope you agree with me, and even if you don't, how did you say? "I hope this, sent in good faith, might help you at least reflect"

This is the first civil ask I got since, I think, december. thank you for being civil

[avelera]

So I really thought the plot of S2 of Good Omens was going to include a beat where either Crowley went back to being an angel or Aziraphale accidentally Fell, and I wanted to walk through some of the moments I thought were leading to such a Side-Swap between Aziraphale and Crowley, in part because some of them revolve around mysteries that still haven't been fully explained:

When Crowley went out to the street and had his lightning strike "freakout", I truly thought that was maybe a hint that he had flipped sides (accidentally?) back to being an angel

One reason being the "tiny miracle" he and Aziraphale perform later. Why did it fail so dramatically that it set off the klaxon alarms in Heaven?

One theory I had was that Crowley had already reverted back to being an angel, without realizing, so their miracles didn't cancel each other out. Instead, two heavenly miracles occurred which, combined, created that huge outpouring of power visible from Heaven.

The other theory I had was that the miracle to disguise Gabriel was a tiny, quiet miracle, that it totally worked as intended. The alert Heaven got was Crowley's lightning strike, which was also on the same street, right next to Aziraphale's shop. I thought there'd be a twist around that location confusion, and we'd learn that the power outpouring was from Crowley becoming an angel again. Sadly, no dice on that front (the timing didn't quite work either, and I did enjoy the smash cut to their "quiet" miracle not being so quiet)

Note: We still don't have clarity on why their "tiny miracle" failed so spectacularly!

In the second episode we had so many scenes of Aziraphale questioning his faith in God. Of treading the line. Of lying. Of doing all this behavior that felt just a sneeze away from him Falling.

We have that famous book-based line where Crowley wonders aloud if they got it wrong the whole time, wouldn't it be funny if he did the right thing and Aziraphale did the wrong one? Aziraphale doesn't think that possibility is funny at all, but there are so many small indications and subtle hints that Aziraphale acts in a demonic manner and Crowley in an angelic one.

Note: We still don't have a resolution as to whether Aziraphale's questioning of God will lead to anything. Could be an S3 thing.

Not just in the Resurrectionist plotline where Aziraphale truly does not understand how his nitpicking over the corpse sale led not just to Elspeth and Morag possibly starving, but it directly led to Morag's death. All for the want of a corpse they couldn't even return? Aziraphale's actions were wall to wall evil in that episode. In contract, Crowley not only does favors for Aziraphale this season, he explicitly does not ask for repayment for them. They are truly selfless acts. This is in addition to saving the goats and Job's children.

The thing is, I just couldn't tell if those moments of Angelic Crowley and Demonic Aziraphale were plot points or simple character quirks along the lines of "Just enough of a bastard to be worth knowing" - were we just being reminded that these two are both gray? It felt like Crowley did too much good and Aziraphale did too much evil for it to be a quirk rather than a plot point, but then... it wasn't a plot point. Like at all. There was no Falling this season.

When we saw Crowley in Heaven, I really wondered if the fact he could hack into Muriel's files wasn't just a poor password but because Crowley had already, accidentally, Redeemed himself or Risen or whatever you want to call it. I wondered if it was a Clue.

Note: We never got answers as to why or how Crowley was able to hack through Muriel's system. Probably it's been left for S3 but at the very least we got new questions raised around Crowley's power level as an angel and what his power level is currently.

(On that note, did the Gabriel statue ever fucking matter? What was the point of that whole thing? Just a weird statue, that was all??)

When Aziraphale took off his halo, I was excited for the possibility that THIS was it, THIS was when he would reject his angelic nature SOMEHOW, perhaps by necessity to save the shop and Nina and Maggie. Instead it was just... a weapon??? Somehow?? I thought he was doing the same thing as proverbially ripping off his own wings.

Basically, I wanted an ending where Crowley and Aziraphale kiss an reunite and realize they really are so important to one another, they've connected, they've inspired each other, they've changed each other... all at the absolute worst possible moment. If either had Fallen or Risen first, they could have been on the same side, instead I wanted to see them figuratively or literally torn in opposite directions into a Heaven/Hell that they loathe but can't escape because technically, all that you need to do is trust or distrust God in order to Fall or Rise, and it can't be easily or quickly faked, because it's about faith and it took them millennia to find or lose their faith, they can't just go "Whoops, never mind, actually I don't trust/I do trust God after all!" just to get out of it.

Frick I just really wanted to see Angelic Crowley and Demonic Aziraphale absolutely fucking miserable at their situation just as yet another Apocalypse kicks off, so they have to navigate that and the fact they're totally out of their depth in their new lives and they miss each other desperately.

Maybe I'm just too much of a angst muffin but damn, there were so few stakes, so little that was lost or threatened this season. Literally, Aziraphale could turn around right now and do the silly apology dance and really, it would all be a wash, Crowley would take him back in a second. They're not in peril, nothing was truly lost, they're barely separated at this point what with Aziraphale's new status there's really no reason he couldn't even visit Crowley. Barely anything has changed - Crowley always knew that Aziraphale was faithful to Heaven, he just has a promotion now that technically gives him more latitude to call the shots, which could easily mean a lot of time spent on Earth with Crowley too.

*Sigh* I'd probably be less bothered if I didn't feel like there were signs everywhere that some sort of Fall/Rise was coming, unwillingly, for one of them. Maybe it'll still happen in S3! Who knows!

[utenthy]

i found you through your ace attorney art originally i am so so glad to see you posting it again.... would you mind expanding on your reasons why aa4 is (presumably) your favourite? i feel like we have similar thoughts and feelings on it and id love to hear you talk about it

HII ok so here’s the scoop on this yes aa4 is 100% my favorite aa game and i think mostly it all comes down to phoenix. his character feels incomplete without the context and dimension that ajaa gives him and because phoenix is the heart and soul of the series it also recontextualizes the rest of aa with the idea that actual justice is incongruent with the legal system as it exists. so politically speaking i feel like it has more bite and is really enlightening on phoenix’s true character - not as a purely faithful hero but as a flawed and conflicted person. like phoenix’s work as a lawyer in the original trilogy if taken at face value makes him seem really moral but you have to zoom out and see that 1) he went straight from a relationship where he changed everything about himself for dahlia directly to devoting himself to changing everything about himself in search of edgeworth: his own identity is always somewhat secondary and unknown, 2) as a lawyer he fundamentally disagrees with the corruption in the legal system and his failures and eventual disbarment come down to the problems he was unable to change as just another cog in the system. he has to escape it and break it (mason system!) and by his disbarment at the hands of kristoph he is given no other choice. and i think a lot of people think the change in phoenix’s character is random and disappointing but for me it really drew me to the game: it is a more logical and realistic conclusion that the person who cheats and lies to save people and buries himself continues to cheat and lie to save people and becomes more and more alone. that he was removed from everything that was his life before and still took in and cared for trucy and built a scam they could play together to both survive is important. as he became a lawyer for edgeworth he became a trickster for trucy.

i also love apollo’s character and how he is a vessel for the audience who feels grief at phoenix’s changing and idolizes and insists against it all. apollo justice is still fantasizing that their law system is a salvageable thing and he only has to slot in and become the “good guy” - and phoenix challenges him to see it differently, specifically by exposing and condemning the high-powered career lawyer mentor he had in kristoph. he shows that though his reputation is destroyed and he gambles and cheats, he is still more honest and moral than someone who has a clean image and causes harm in secret. i LOVE love love how much ajaa deals with illusions and secrets.

everything about trucy and the gramaryes obviously ties in with illusion but also brings up another one of my favorite parts of ajaa in general which is family and the damage associated - gavins are so awesome. i love the parallel of trucy’s puppet, her being used as a puppet by her dad, klavier being used as a puppet by kristoph, apollo being used as a puppet by phoenix. there is so much thematic richness i could literally go on forever and ever and ever but i’ll wrap it up. basically justice lies and illusions and we just don’t even have time tonight for the families and puppets and the class issues with trucy and phoenix starving living in an office versus kristophs lavish prison cell the bad are rewarded the good are punished and good is something different than you would think - FUNDAMENTALLY - and all people can be saved from continuing the cycle of secrecy and corruption and fear

[snarky-art]

You want the collapse of a foreign country with such passion that it is frightening. It’s normal to be against war, but dreaming about the collapse of the country is already alarming. All countries have done terrible things in the past. And what is this reason to wish these countries death? Take the history of the United States, there is colonialism and the genocide of Indians. So you wish death on the United States? I’ll tell you a secret: the Arabs are also colonialists, and they destroyed the culture and identity of many peoples.

I myself want the war to end, but I don’t wish death on anyone, unlike you.

Ok I’ll answer this in good faith but this will most likely be the last one I do that with until I start clowning.

I didn’t wish death on anyone lol

I actually explicitly stated I don’t want that in my last ask.

Supporting freedom for a nation under an oppressive genocidal regime does not mean wishing death, it means the opposite.

I support the Land Back movement here in the US too, along with multiple other movements for social justice here too. Like yeah no shit all countries have done awful stuff. We gotta make that shit right. That isn’t a good argument and it doesn’t justify what’s happening to Palestine.

Reparations are important and I as a white person still benefit from the white supremacist ideology that is still present and active on a systemic level in the US. Power structures are an important part of the equation for this stuff.

Right now, Israel has all the systemic power over Palestine, and that’s being used to eradicate them. That’s fucked.

All my friends from there are dead and so are their families. They were just people. And they were targeted both for existing in Palestine and because they were Palestinian. One of them and her sister died going to get food that was laid out as a trap to lure them there. The other in his sleep when bombs fell on him and his siblings in tents. The other bled out after his legs got caught under rubble and his legs had to be amputated, without anesthesia too. The other starved to death. This was after she lost what was left of her family because the hospital where her little brother, her only remaining family, was recovering from losing his eye and ear and suffering severe burns on the left half of his body from a fire started by a bomb, was also bombed.

Israel does not need to be bombing hospitals in the name of their safety. That do not need to continue over 75 years of genocide for their state to exist. They do not need to continue forced sterilization and ethnic cleansing for their state to exist.

You will never convince me genocide is ok.

Also, for future reference, Native American, Indigenous Peoples, First Narions, or the name of the tribe/cultural group for the person you’re talking about is preferred also for Indigenous US groups. Indians are from India.

Free Palestine🇵🇸🇵🇸🇵🇸

[soraka-in-warhammer40k]

Looks like things are getting weird in the recent teasers regarding the "Alpha Asset". From the previous teaser we learned that the imperium would risk several other worlds starving by drawing forces from agri-worlds ("let those it fed subsist on faith") because it is that important.

That did not tell us anything about it really. But today we have been given some information. First of all the planet's name is "Volkus". Going by the amount of "Vokite Weaponry" we got, this is very likely to be a Mechanicus Forgeworld. So whatever that asset is, it is most likely tech.

Tech that can wipe out T'au ships - which is a big deal, as T'au vessels are nothing to sneeze at with all those shields and railguns. Ever looked up the araments and statline of the average Manta? Fearing that a single thing can reliably and without a struggle delete a whole fleet of those is quite an indiciator to how insane this "Alpha Asset" is.

What is curious is how the T'au are talking about it:

This pause before "weapon" somehow reads like while it can function like one, it most likely is something else entirely that has just been weaponized by the imperium because they are literally too stupid and/or technologically inept to use the actual functions of the thing.

"Evade notice of the human superweapon" also is... weird specific? They do not evade notice of "planetary defenses" or "imperial forces", they are evading the "Alpha Asset" itself. So not only is it a machine that handles some insane levels of energy that it can endanger a whole fleet, the weapon ITSELF can also notice things, implying at least sensor capabilities.

Perhaps a DaoT-era space station? Perhaps a thing that was originally used by humanity to terrform the system 20,000 years prior and that has now been reduced to "idk just overload it and point the exhaust at the enemy?". Of course it might also be an imperial-controlled Blackstone fortress, but I do not remember them having fleet-wiping capabilities unless you pull an Abby and use it as a battering ram. Perhaps it is an STC? Those can get pretty insane, especially if it is one focussed on military tech. If it was the STC for making warpships then it would expain why the imperium would let billions die before they risk losing it.

Whatever it is, all we know for sure is that it flies - theme for the killteam release seems to be jetpack-guard vs Vespids if the rumors can be believed.