#so if we want to make this big fucking society work everybody has to have the same ammount of power

[sk3l3t0n444]

i wish i wasnt so scared of everything

[religion-is-a-mental-illness]

Whats your view on the Case of Päivi Räsänen that she is not guilty of "hate speech". She says its a win for freedom of speech. Which i partly agree, i also dont think its hatespeech to quote the bible and explain why you dont agree with a certain lifestyle, but i think tolerance (not acceptance) is nice and sometimes you can just shut the fuck up. I also dont comment on other peoples relationship, because its not my relationship. Also i dont feel comfortable with someone from an ideology which has a long history of censorship (blasphemy laws) in the past.

Supporting freedom of speech is super-easy when we agree with what's being said. But that's not why it's there or why it's needed. You don't need freedom of speech when everybody's in agreement and likes what's being said. It's much harder to support it when it's something we strongly disagree with or even find appalling and vile.

There's a distinction between supporting what someone says, and supporting their right to say it. And a further distinction between holding and arguing ideas we might not like, and someone actually inciting or advocating violence or the violation of people's rights. Or being compelled to go along with them. It's okay to be a Xian and to believe that everybody needs salvation through Jesus Christ, but you don't get to go round to your work colleagues and tell them that they need to accept Jesus or burn in hell, even if you actually believe it. It's okay to be a Woke and to believe that the world is controlled by invisible nebulous power forces, but you don't get to insist others be trained to believe the same.

It's not just the right to the ideas you have or believe, but how you go about exercising that right. It's the difference between "speech you hate," and "hate speech," which is supposed to be about targeting and inciting. The problem of late has been conflating - deliberately, as much as inadvertently - the former with the latter.

Reminds me of something Ricky Gervais said:

I'm not tweeting anyone, I'm just tweeting, okay. I don't know who's following me. I've got 12 million followers. I don't know who's following me, they can be following me without me knowing, choose to read my tweet and then take that personally.

That's like going into a town square, seeing a big noticeboard and there's a notice, "guitar lessons," and you go, "but I don't fucking want guitar lessons!"

What's this? There's a number here. Right, call that, right. Are you giving guitar lessons? Yeah? I don't fucking want any!

Fine, it's not for you then, just walk away. Don't worry about it.

The culture of victimhood has reframed disagreement as targeting or incitement. Linda Sarsour, Sharia-enthusiast and known pathological liar, has claimed that criticism of Islam is a denial of the right of Muslims to exist. It's not even like, "I'm offended so they're wrong." It's "I'm offended, so they shouldn't be allowed to say it."

I haven't been able to find what Räsänen actually wrote, only various reporting about the case.

But I would argue similar to things I've said before about my own criticism of Islam. I'm allowed to hold anti-Islam views. I can write about them. I can make my arguments and put forth my evidence, quote the scripture, etc. But I don't get to call for Muslims to be hunted down and killed, or to violate their right to their religion. That doesn't mean I can't insist they be held to the same standards as everyone else with regard to how they practice it. They don't get to block roads while praying. They don't get to hang their daughters upside down in a garage to beat their feet for failing to properly recite the quran. The laws of the land still apply.

There's a few reasons why that's important.

There's a liberal principle that laws that are applicable to a society should be created such that you would accept those laws regardless of what part you play in that society: rich, poor, male, female, black, white. (Of course, "antiracism™" and CRT activists explicitly object to such neutrality.)

Or to put it another way, rules you use to control someone else's speech can be used by them to control yours. Political parties do not remain in office forever - except in a dictatorship - and you don't want to create or give them the weapon that they can use against you.

I've been watching what's been going on in Ireland, and as far as I can tell, it's a disaster in the making. Especially the "for the greater good" language. Not only is this an ominous portent of authoritarianism, but even if this isn't misused by its creators, they will not hold office forever. You create a censorship law to silence your enemies, and at the next change of government, they'll use the same laws to silence you. For the greater good.

https://www.nationalreview.com/2023/11/ireland-on-the-verge-of-establishing-an-oppressive-censorship-regime/

Despite superficial similarities to First Amendment jurisprudence in the U.S., the proposed Irish hate-speech statute would all but guarantee its politicized use.

Biden's government tried to set up their own Ministry of Truth, to be headed by someone who was both dangerously unqualified and, much more concerningly, an activist and herself a spreader of disinformation. But again, the ruling party inevitably changes. Maybe not at the next major election, but at some point. And that puts a Ministry of Truth into your opposition's hands, to now wield it against you.

As Christopher Hitchens opined:

"Every time you violate, or propose to violate, the right to free speech of someone else, you in potentia, you’re making a rod for your own back. Because, to whom do you award the right to decide which speech is harmful, or who is the harmful speaker? Or to determine in advance what are the harmful consequences going to be, that we know enough about in advance to prevent? To whom would you give this job? To whom are you going to award the task of being the censor? … To whom you would give the job of deciding for you? Relieve you from the responsibility of hearing what you might have to hear? Do you know anyone? Hands up, do you know anyone to whom you'd give this job? Does anyone have a nominee?"

Don't martyr your opponents. If you silence them, it just makes them noble sacrifices for the cause. (You can't always stop others from martyring themselves.) Remember that it's not just religionists who are prone to venerating martyrs.

It becomes "secret knowledge they don't want you to know" and thus forbidden and attractive. The Streisand effect is a real thing.

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Streisand_effect

The Streisand effect is an unintended consequence of attempts to hide, remove, or censor information, where the effort instead backfires by increasing awareness of that information. It is named after American singer and actress Barbra Streisand, whose attempt to suppress the California Coastal Records Project's photograph of her cliff-top residence in Malibu, California, taken to document California coastal erosion, inadvertently drew far greater attention to the heretofore obscure photograph in 2003.

And it'll just go underground anyway, away from where you can see it, monitor it and deal with it. Positioning people outside of, and in opposition to society, never results in anything good. It's better to let them voluntarily tell you what they're up to, which also makes it easier for you to show others what they're doing.

Like I say, short of actual incitement, libel, etc, things that are already illegal anyway.

This is a long train-of-thought way of saying that I don't have to like what Räsänen has to say, but she has the right to her beliefs, to write about and talk about those beliefs, as long as doing so doesn't violate the rights of others. Including not violating their right to hear people she doesn't like. And not being offended, having to like what she says, is not itself a right.

“Nobody has the right to not be offended. That right doesn’t exist in any declaration I have ever read. If you are offended it is your problem, and frankly lots of things offend lots of people.” -- Salman Rushdie

But we have the same right has her: to have a different idea, to argue it in response to her - even if she finds that offensive - or even to ignore her entirely.

[commodorebuzzkill]

The problem with Revolutionary Socialism

I get it. Our system sucks and needs to die, needs to be replaced by a system that provides for the needs of everyone regardless of bank account, religion, skin color, sexual/gender orientation. It is SO tempting to just think "We'll just tear it all down! Let the people rise up and end Capitalist tyranny! Fuck voting for the stooges who get shifted around the board of politics, making speeches, offering lip service to change, while leaving everything exactly as it is!" But how close are we really to bringing about a great awakening of the working class in this country? A huge chunk of them will vote for Trump this year. Which side of the political aisle do you think is better armed? It ain't ours, and frankly, just arming everybody to the teeth when we can all get dangerously paranoid or depressed, and the absent minded squeezing of a finger can end someone's life, is just a bad idea.

And if you did decide that tomorrow, or next month, or next year was going to be the time for the glorious uprising, do you really think most of the left would follow you?

Well, maybe you don't need a full majority of people, maybe you just need a nucleus of diehards around you and get everyone else to be more or less adjacent, and given time, they'll fall into line after you provoke the response of the military, tear the veil of civilization off the government, create a few thousand martyrs and... you can see where this is going, right?

Start a civil war, and the fabric of the new state, or anarchist movement you create will trend toward warfare. The policies of your organization will probably cater to the needs of the war, producing weaponry, organizing troops, supplying them with ammunition, and when you come out the other end, you will have a war economy where the military leaders will be the ones holding the political power. And once they have it, go ask them if they're inclined to give it back. I'll bet they will use their military muscle to ensure that nobody can challenge them, and what they have, they keep.

Not to mention that you will have created the perfect breeding ground for demagoguery. Did Lenin want a real "dictatorship of the Proletariat?" Fuck no he didn't. He wanted power. To quote Maxim Gorky: "Lenin is not an omnipotent magician, but a cold-blooded trickster who spares neither the honor, nor the life of the proletariat. He does not know the popular masses, he has not lived with them."

Oh but sure, you want a state-less society, where everybody won't build big power structures ever again! Point to one time in history where that has worked out, and didn't result in said society being swallowed by a bigger more aggressive neighbor. Maybe if such a society could be maintained, it would be ideal, but I just don't think it can. For better or for worse, I think we as humans have tribalism and pecking orders baked into our DNA. I think if you create a power vacuum, somebody will come along and fill it.

Democracy for all its flaws might be the best we're capable of.

Reform is an agonizingly slow and deeply frustrating process. Progress inevitably arrives too late for so many. I get it. But really think about the alternatives.

I'm not saying that ballot box action on its own will achieve needed change, but abandoning it won't do us any favors either. Direct action is great, but it helps to have parallel effort in electoral politics too. Attack on all fronts (without guns). Offer help to all your friends you're worried about. We need to stick together right now.

[lucysarah-c]

Euphemism

SUMMARY: Y/N is from a traditional household and some topics were off limits. Levi's upbringing didn't have such a thing as "off limits".

Y/N thinks she may be pregnant, Levi reassures her that's not how it works and there's no shame in her female conditions.

She doesn't agree and Levi still has a lot to understand how the surface society works like.

This is a spin-off from my multichapter fic BUT you don't need to know much to understand it.

Y/N is from a wealthy family, she's younger than Levi but they are both training partners after Levi joined the scouts.

Erwin isn't a commander yet.

Y/N and Levi got handy a few months ago (they made out, Levi ate her out but stopped right after getting on the big deal because it was her first time and she wasn't ready yet,)

WARNINGS: mentions of pregnancy, suggestive terms and cursing 'cause Levi.

My eyes opened up in disbelief as I looked at the calendar that was peacefully and innocently lying on top of Erwin’s desk. ‘March…’ my mind read ‘It’s March already, 7th to be precise’

Time felt like some never ending routine after we got over the unending night watches with little sleep. With everybody coming back, the expedition and more; I felt like I lost track of time. My mind tried to count days, desperately trying to find missing days that could make the counting lower. The tray and card were left on top of the desk as I abandoned the office bitting my nails with worry.

I had previously stated it. I knew little to nothing about my anatomy back then. The little knowledge that had been shared to me was more lies and tale-tells than realistic information. The sudden crucified of my actions a couple of months ago passed in my mind as a picture book, one after the other as my less pure side made an emphasis on bringing back the mental sequence of him taking off his shirt while smirking and then going down to kiss me, or better say devore me, take my breath as if he needed the oxygen on my own lungs for himself. Perhaps, the rocking of his bare hips against mines, with his manhood in full display for me to see as it stocked against my lower stomach.

I took a shower before our arranged night shift and admired my body in the bathroom's mirror. Touching my lower belly, confused, it appeared normal, but yet I thought, ‘maybe it takes longer to show… no no, maybe I’m not. But what if I am ?’

‘Who do I tell? Who do I ask? What do I do?’

“Oi, are you going to tell me what the fuck is up with you or not?” Levi asked pissed off already after an entire day of him asking “You alright?” and me answering with a face that seemed far from ok said “Yes”. He was resting his body on the railing of the watch post, with a hot cup of tea between his hands.

“Nothing,” my voice came out whispery and sad and he sighed loudly and groaned in pain.

“Just said it. Don’t be like ‘nothing’” He made an emphasis on the last word with sarcasm and disdain and kept going “with the most fucked up face. It’s obvious that something is going on. Don’t be a pain in the ass and said it. Cut the show.”

A part of me wanted to be mad at him for saying that I wasn’t making a show or a scene. “It’s nothing that concerns you,” my response came dubitable, which made Levi kept up the demanding attitude, as if this time he wasn’t taking that as an answer “It doesn’t concern you… you as a man,”

There was a brief silence before he sighed loudly. “You’re on the rags, that’s it?” I raised an eyebrow to the euphemism that was a bit more “street like” than what I was used. “You’re on your period, you’re bleeding. That’s what I meant.”

Leaving to a side that it wasn’t the first time and won’t be the last that despite both of us talking the same language as every human inside of the walls, Underground slag and Shina’s wall slag was so distance sometimes that we got lost in translation. When I got what he meant, I blushed intensely, ashamed. “No and god, you could be a bit more delicate about it,”

Possibly, I wasn’t used to bring the topic around the other gender. I had been told (since it happened for the first time) the bearable minimum amount of information as “you’re a woman now, it will happen every month, men must not know”. Telling Levi was breaking one of the three rules set in stone for me. The second rule was also broken, so I was feeling like stepping on a completely foreign land.

The permanent wrinkled frown in Levi’s complexion was slightly changed with the addition of a raised, thin eyebrow. “If you’re not, then what’s the problem?”

I joined on the frowning team and avoided his glance with questionable security and mortified appearance. “More like.. the lack of it?”

“Why are you worried about it? You should have gotten it and it didn’t come?” Levi’s straightforward nature was testing my limits of politeness.

“Well, you know!” I cussed him “That I may be expecting” I whispered the last part terrified that someone may even hear me, in the middle of the night, in the middle of nowhere. As if those words could travel through walls and arrive at someone.

This was the time for him to go shocked and surprised. His eyebrows raised and his eyes opened. Levi was quick to question, “Did you fuck someone?”

My coldness was lost, and I pressed my lips together while raising both eyebrows, irritated. “You!”

My training partner, not following my track of mind, admired me in confusion before saying, “How could I get you knocked up? That’s impossible, unless you lied about it and Erwin got you knocked up.”

Gasping in disbelief, “Are you already questioning my honestly to you?” I felt dreadfully offended. I turned around and gave him my back. “My grandmother was right. Men back up so easily. They leave you as soon as they find out.”

He spoke up again after I heard him click his tongue behind me. “I didn’t say any of that. I said that’s impossible that I got you knocked up,”

“Couldn’t you be softer about it? You say it so harsh,” I complained about his sharp tongue. As a silent reply, the hand that wasn’t holding the cup left his trousers’ pocket and raised as he also crocked an eyebrow; in completely misunderstanding of what was wrong with his choice of words “I don’t know, maybe a bun in the over or with child”

I was freaking out inside out and Levi dedicated me his best disinterest look after my correction of words “What am I going to do?” questioning to none in particular as i felt the fear kicking in.

“Did you fuck someone else?” Levi repeated the question.

“No!” I answered, offended.

“Then you’re not pregnant, chill. Calm down,” As soon as those words left his lips, and I turned around with a dead gaze, he his free hand raised again but this time as some sort of white flag “Fine, fucking terrible choice of words” Aware that not a single person in human history had calmed down after being told so.

“You don’t know that,” I murmured as a reply to his first statement.

“I think I kinda do,” The calmness in hi tone and the disinterest in his face made me even more infuriated.

“People in my life, especially my family, had made it clear before. Messing around with a man could lead to pregnancy. We were both naked and your… your thing was touching me and close by. I don’t know! Maybe it worked somehow,” I desperately tried to express my fears until I heard him chuckled. I felt like tiring of dedicating him dead glances.

“Sorry,” He apologizes, probably realising that laughing in my face wasn’t helping. “I may not be the most educated moron around here, but that simply is not how it works. I didn’t put my dick in, not even close so, you’re safe,”

“Are you implying that you know more than everybody around me?”

“More about sex than a bunch of well-raised fuckers that needed you virgin to marry another well-raised fucker? Yeah, I’m sure of that” As he arrived at the end of his reply, he couldn’t stop a side smirk to appear on his features and then he took a sip from his tea. "If getting knocked up was that easy, girly, there would be more kids than fucking grass,”

My stubbornness didn’t allow me to believe him. I walked around the watch post worrying, “What if I need to carry it on? What if Thomas makes me get rid of it? Isn’t that like a vast deal that God punishes severely? I’m ready for that. I’m not ready to be a mother either.”

Levi rolled his eyes and shook his head. “If god exists, it’s too fucking busy dealing with mass murders, genocidal, rapers, pedophiles, sex slavers, organ traffickers and politicians to take care of your little slip, brat. I told you, you’re not knocked up.”

When he noticed I wasn’t really paying him attention, Levi took a cup and filled it up with tea. He placed it in my hands and grabbed my face. “Calm the fuck down. Why would I lie to you? If it was possible, don’t you think I would freak out? Drink a tea and relax for goodness’ sake. We are one week away from an expedition, and you’re stressed as a fucking corner rat. Of course, your period is not going down.”

“Alright,” I stuttered. “But if I were, would you take care of me?” I gave him my best doe's eyes as Levi dedicated me his best stoic face.

“Of course,” he came along so tired of me, but the security in his voice and the fact that he replied alarmingly quickly made me smile even when he was still holding my face with his hand.

Stress is never an excellent ally. He was right in everything. We came back from the expedition; I relaxed for a few days and it came right in, making me wonder why was I missing it. If there’s something worse than a period is a late one, hormones are fucked up and everything hurts twice as hard.

Trying was a generous word for my attempts at pretending I wasn’t in so much pain that made me wish I’d never left my bed. It was a mix between the constant feeling of unconformity for the unstoppable waves of pain mixed with a boiling sensation in my lower belly. Let’s not even mention the random rushes of intense pain in my butt that made me feel as if time freeze until the sensation slowly passed off. I felt moody, but mostly because the uniform felt like it did pressure in all the wrong places. It was too tight, complicated, unpractical, itchy and cold or warm or anything. I wanted to put a long shirt on and lay on my bed for a week.

My fork displaced the food from one side to the other. I was hungry, but not for breakfast. The usual meal felt like an insult to my state. ‘I want comfort food, not healthy shit for training’

“Why the shitty face? Are you constipated?” Levi shut the question and my initial thought was ‘Yes, try going to the bathroom normally when you feel like dying,’

“I’ve a headache,” I replied miserable.

Levi looked at me from the other side of the table and said, “Oh, your blood finally came?”

Choking on the glass of water I was having when he said it so unfaced to them, coughing loudly. When I finally riposte, my embarrassed expression made it across the table as I felt my cheeks burning. “Don’t say that! Or at least not like that. Haven’t you imagined that a headache is a social clue of you’re a man and I don’t want you to know?”

Levi, who once again wasn’t getting my reactions, kept the uninterested facade and raised the teacup to his lips “I don’t get your fucking embarrassment, men know it. It’s not a secret,”

“Some men don’t know,” I replied quickly, not sharing the eye’s contact. “Chris didn’t know,”

“I said men not brats,”

“Anyway, you’re not supposed to know or share. It’s girls’ stuff,” I tried desperately to keep the traditions I was told, that Levi was so obstinate by going against it. Which made me recall a scene during the expedition. “You confronted Nifa about it too. She was so ashamed. Don’t do that,”

“I don’t fucking get it. It’s normal. Why are people here on the surface so fucking obsessed about hiding normal shit?” Levi, who was still getting used to another society, snarled.

The necessity to counter left my body as I writhe in pain with another stroke of those painful cramps. I tried to hide it the best I could because even if Levi already knew; I felt like expressing my pain was something he didn’t want to hear.

“If you feel that bad, go to bed and rest.” his voice came out calm and monotone as always, but there were tints of compassion escaping his stoic expression.

“I can’t tell the superiors,” I used as an excuse. I only stayed behind twice before.

Levi clicked his tongue, annoyed, “Who cares, what’s the fucking point of you training feeling like this? Go, rest and I will tell Erwin,”

“Erwin shouldn’t know,” I cried out loud, as if that was the worst fate.

“Don’t be an idiot. Erwin has hair in his balls. He knows how it works.” Levi felt as if I was talking nonsense but when he saw my conflicted face added, “I will tell him you catch a cold, whatever, so rest. I’ll do your chores”

“You sure?”

”Just go, for fuck’s sake”

I did exactly that. At first I felt I shouldn’t because I could take it, but as soon as I arrived at my shared bedroom and I changed my clothes and laid quietly on the bed; I knew I didn’t want to be anywhere else. I felt asleep; it was still early anyway, so it was more like resume the rest of the night than an actual nap. At midday, I had an early lunch with Petra and then returned to my bed. Later on, a few hours before dinner, I was feeling quite bad, but I wasn’t tired enough to take another nap. Laying on my side, curled up as I read a book slowly because it was hard to read from that position. One someone knocked on the door, weirdly because my friends would have just rushed in..

“Come in!” I said as reincorporated myself slowly and lazily.

Levi figure appeared, and I felt the hasted necessity to ease out my hair that was heavily tangled from laying on the bed all day. “What are you doing here?” I questioned quickly as running hands through my hair, as I added confused “Men are not allowed in the female barracks”

Levi left a tray with tea and some buns with jelly that probably remained from breakfast on my nightstand as he moved next to me between the two bunk beds. “Who is gonna keep me out?” He replied monotone, as if we both knew nobody was going to pick up a fight with him or get on his bad side by snitching to a superior.

Before I could thank him, he asked me, “You have a hot water bottle?”

“Hm, yeah, but it’s cold already,” I replied, still confused. He extended a hand as a silent gesture of “give it to me”.

Once I handle it to him, he declared, “I’ll come back later,” as if he was ready to leave. “Drink the tea before it runs cold. Bread with jelly was the closest thing to something your bratty sweet tooth would like,”

I accepted the warm cup he was handling me with a tender smile. “Thank you so much, you shouldn’t have.”

“How are you feeling?” Levi asked as he kept his eyes on me while I tasted the tea. ‘Chamomile’

“Could be worst, I’ll survive,” I replied, still ashamed that he was around. “Did you warned the higher-ups?”

Levi nodded. “Told him you had a headache. Erwin said to take it easy today and you let him know how you feel tomorrow. He said something about administrational activities or some bullshit like that if you weren’t feeling alright for training still,”

A white lie that I accepted blindly. Levi left right after that while I had some afternoon tea. He came back a few minutes later with the hot water bottle but didn’t stay, probably because it was against the rules for him to be there. It was a mixed feeling, the one of being taken care for him but also him being aware of it. While resting warm at the bed I thought ‘If it’s only him knowing, I could get used to this kind of pampering,’

A white lie because when Levi walked to Erwin, who was leading his squad’s early morning training, he stood in front of him and said “Y/N isn’t training today, she’s bleeding,”

The blunt out spitted words made the blond, that was casually writing on a spreadsheet, snap quickly in shock and then chuckled slightly out of nervous “O-oh alright, I’ll write her down as indisposed,”

“Don’t tell me you’re fucking ashamed, too?” Levi rested his hands on his hips, looking deeply into his squad leader at that moment.

Erwin, that was probably smiling at the situation he wasn’t expecting to affront so early in the morning, said, “Well no, but usually people are a bit more discreet… specially the girls,” Levi clicked his tongue, annoyed before Erwin added “I highly doubt Y/N told you to tell me that,”

“She told me to say she had a headache,”

“Of course,” Erwin chuckled, as it was obvious those were not my words. “Try to be softer next time, if one day you’re going to have girls under your command. They get really embarrassed, especially when they are young,”

Levi rolled his eyes. “Got it. I’ll add it to my long list of stuff that you fuckers from the surface get scared about.”

He was ready to go back to training while Erwin let the swears slip by as if he was tiring of calling Levi’s attention out for those, when he asked, “Do you have chamomile tea?”

Erwin raised his attention from the spreadsheet to look at the shorter man and simply replied, “No. I’ve black tea,”

“Tch, it’s for the brat,” Levi clarified, as if that would make a difference.

“I imagined, but no. I can give you black tea if you want.” Erwin insisted, confused on why the specificity.

Levi frowned. “That doesn’t work, moron. Caffeine makes cramps worst, chamomile works better. Don’t you know that shit?”

The blonde shook his head, not ashamed of admitting his lack of knowledge. “Usually female cadets don’t talk to us about that,”

“About their bleeding? Don’t you have a little sister?” Levi questioned back, as if that was reason enough.

“Step-sister and she was born after I joined the military. We never shared a household,” Erwin explained, as he went back to his work, disinterested. Added “And we prefer to call it indisposed,” instructing him again about it.

“Tch, got it, will be added to the other list of stuff I should say instead,” Levi said, giving an end to the conversation as he turned around and walked away.

Or so he thought, because Erwin spoke up again. His attention was still on his paperwork while he switched the weight from one leg to the other, making the little rocks of the training ground move and crack “Euphemisms,”

The former thug looked back over his shoulder, frowning, and asked, “What?” from a slightly bigger distance now.

“Euphemisms,” Erwin repeated as if the question was because the cadet didn’t hear it. But as soon as the blond didn’t get an answer, he proceeded to explain, “An euphemism is a word or phrase used to avoid saying an unpleasant or offensive word,”

Erwin had no intention of doing a display of education to the former thug, more of a plain explanation. The blond even raised his eyes and did a slight smile as a “white flag” or not trying to sound superior in his explanation.

To what Levi replied with his best dead expression and said, “You surface assholes known that shit but not about chamomile tea? You should check your priorities.”

This time, the black-haired cadet truly walked away as he heard his superior chuckle a bit.

“Check on Hange. They may have the tea,”

[thegeminisage]

ok! it's star trek update time. last night we watched ds9's "paradise" and tng's "thine own self."

paradise (ds9):

this episode was an exercise in correctly predicting vibes. first it was "oh she has vibes" and she did. then it was "she crashed this spaceship herself" and she did. and then it was "this crazy bitch watches fox news" and LO, SHE MENTIONED ANCIENT EARTH RELIGIONS,

sisko in the box was HORRIBLE!!!! i dont know how obrien held back truly. i loved his action hero moments though he really is so much fun

AND sisko nearly got a close enocunter of his own...i wanted more sisko content but not quite like this. please treat him really niceys or at the very least don't put him in a box that was so dehumanizing

i can't believe in the end everybody was just like...yeah lets stay here even tough she let all those people die needlessly when she had the power to save them 🥰 it kind of ruins it, like, there's no fucking consequences??

in fact, humans are totally allowed to start colonies like this with no tech WITH CONSENT. she could have found other like-minded nutjobs and done all of this totally above-board

guy from spn hollywood babylon was in this ep.

thine own self (tng):

I WANTED AMNESIA DATA BUT NOT LIKE THIS!

girl him not knowing what "radioactive" meant even though he remembered concepts like "cellular degeneration"...this is literally why we have the "this is not a place of honor" project and you're telling me they havent nailed that shit by the 2300s?

deeply distressing to watch everyone touch the metal until about halfway through the episode when we remembered this was tng and they'd probably bullshit a cure. which they did do, but it was still distressing to watch. he gave that whole village cancer

AND THEN GOT HATE CRIMED...his head was very fun to look at after his skin got torn off but geez.

i absolutely loved this woman scientist. instead of screaming and running away from him she promptly assigned him iceman at birth and went on about her life. big "that guy has horns oh well not gonna ruin my day" energy. and i mean considering the state of science in her society she was doing pretty good to work with what she had

once again, data is dead and buried. but they exhumed him just like they exhumed beverly nana. his android body has gotta be so old by this point...

"jayden" as data's fake name gave me fits because of course im thinking of mr fbi from heavy rain. been awhile.

i did NOT like the b-plot of this episode. deanna doing badly on the tests until she ordered geordi to die sucked and riker being so harsh with her sucked. i think the lesson was that deanna should have been willing to go in herself and die, although i guess she's not skilled enough to make the repairs. still it feels weird that you can just order someone to die like...geordi's brave and he'd do it but what if he didn't want to? then what? nobody thought this through

if i ordered geordi to die in the holodeck i would never be able to look him in the eyes (or visor, whatever) ever again

however the women on this show did get to talk repeatedly about stretching themselves so there is that i guess

TONIGHT: ds9's "shadowplay" and tng's "masks."

[inflamearc]

initially when i started writing laura, my main course of action was Get Her Out Of Twin Pea/ks --- because at the time neither i nor dana NOR syd could really see a way for her to be home AND safe AND [reasonably] happy. i knew she'd be homesick forever but i just did not trust anyone with her at that time. she was faking her death and dana's audrey and syd's coop were gonna be the only people who knew. i still like a lot of the writing we did then, and i still value the dynamics fostered during that period, but the longer i write her, the more i know laura doesn't truly work anywhere else: not because it's all she's ever known, or because her mom is there, but just because for better and for worse, the town is so much a part of her And She Loves It So Much.

sure, she fantasizes about leaving in her diary sometimes --- one, that's just how growing up in a small town is, and two, she's got a lot of immediate danger to run away from --- and i do want her to get out, travel, Experience Life, See Things, but i know she'd always want to come home. she likes being a big fish in a small pond. she likes that everybody knows her and that she knows everybody. she likes the routine in always knowing where she's going to eat and shop and party. she likes that she knows where everybody's at, even the elderly mostly-strangers on her meals on wheels route.

she doesn't like being out of control of what people know about her --- that's always been an issue (obviously) --- but the thing about laura that you should understand, that i should have understood much earlier, is that she won't back down from a fight, ever (i do not mean physically, okay; physically she's going to talk shit and get hit, but METAPHORICALLY,).

(we're going to cut this because 1. it's already long and 2. i'm about to get to the part that you may or may not want to opt out of, i.e. the aftermath of fire wal/k with m/e --- nothing graphic, ever, but frankness is my only real way, so.)

like, yeah, it's going to be fucking awful. the news will be tactful --- as it probably was in canon, officially, with her dead --- but everybody's still going to know. and beyond the news, there's the rumor mill, and while it's not like anyone has All The Answers, what they're dealing with is "local man commits suicide in police custody following the rape and attempted murder of his daughter", so it's safe to assume there are going to be a lot of solid guesses. and she's still going to be processing the events themselves and having just admitted to herself that her dad ever was her [primary] abuser to begin with. and then dana and i are letting audrey out ben as the other and he's going to die, too :-) which is great news, but is also yet another Thing To Whisper About :-)

but laura is a proud, proud little person. she is also a very spiteful little person. she'd appreciate it if you'd just [daxna vc] be normal, or at least upfront, but she's not her mother: she pays attention, and if you make her feel weird about continuing to Exist In Society, she's going to call you out. if she feels like you've got something to say to her but you're Being Polite, she might say it for you. it would not be accurate to say she doesn't care: she cares a lot! she hates the thought of not being accepted! it's something she's always struggled with! she will probably cry about it! but not until she's alone and has embarrassed you so incredibly badly that you will, hopefully, consider becoming a hermit yourself. this is her non-city. her home. she's not going to be humbled and she's not going to transform into someone new because of what's supposedly been taken from her. she is incapable of making herself small.

she's a lot to deal with. she's always been a lot to deal with. knowing What She's Been Through (or thinking that you do) might give you some context to better understand her, if you know her, but it's not going to change much, unless you end up in one of the prior camps. without the constant threat of danger, she's bound to be less volatile, and if you react to The News in a way that's encouraging and not patronizing, she is bound to handle you with more tenderness, but otherwise she's largely just ... laura. she is miserable, she's ecstatic, she's full of love and righteous anger, she's stubborn, she's brash, she's sullen, she's kind, she's unfortunately never recovered from being the weird horse girl in your fourth grade class and it has never once even occurred to her that she would be made fun of like this.

she is so annoying. and she is also the best girl in the world. and also, i wish i didn't feel i have to say most of these things? it's not because i assume You, The Mutual don't intuit them: if i felt that way about you, you wouldn't be here. but i also know, incredibly well, that if i don't state my intentions very clearly regarding arcs, they might get muddled and they might be misunderstood. i do not like angst for angst's sake. i am not here to make myself sad. i am here to do justice to laura, which means dealing with a lot of misery, but my end goal will always be to let her live her life without shame and with, well, i guess a manageable amount of fear. i would like for her to be defined by and remembered for the person she actually is, or was, or whatever the fuck.

[cryptometaphor]

Me: I should message Liz just out of nowhere with an ai generated message that sounds professional sending her a bill of 1200 $Kamala for the insolence of breaking up with me. A 400 interest rate for each week.

Admin of stream: wtf

Sarah: That's so fucking based. Can I send it instead? I feel like I should be the one to send it.

Me: Yeth <3 and calm down guy, that's like 10 dollars in usd lol.

Admin: usdeez nuts, that's still... Just so insane. Like, it's so petty, and...

Roastie: It's stalker behavior

Me: (nasal voice) "It's stalker behavior" shutup bitch. Even your broke ass can afford ten dollars. It's justice. It's a transparent judiciary instead of black people in low income neighborhoods spending their life in prison.

Roastie: wtf are you even talking about? Are you insane?

Me: Oh so now I'm not a stalker anymore but insane?

Roastie: I didn't say it stopped you from being a stalker just...the priorities changed...

Sarah: WHY DO YOU HATE FUN?!

Admin: How is this fun? Opening old wounds? An argument? Someone inevitably says something hurtful?

Me doing my Cristian Bale voice: I'M JUSTICE SIMPLER, I'M GOTHAM'S RECKONING

Sarah: lol! Admin: Why are you enabling this? lol

Me: WHAT MAKES UP... 50% of the crime rate but only 15% of the population? ENOUGH OF YOUR GAMES SIMPLER. I am the night...

Sarah: omggggg I love it

Roastie: Weren't you just telling us to sympathize for blacks now you're making jokes like that?

Admin: He's a liberal. That's what they do.

Black atheist man: I was gonna go to bed and y'all be talking about black people when my back it turned. Typical white behavior

Me still doing Bale voice: Ah, Nightwing... Help me beat up my ex for ten dollars. We must save Gotham.

Black atheist man: ...NIGGA AM I NIGHTWING CAUSE I'M BLACK

Sarah: Yes

Black atheist man: I did not ask you FEMALE

Roastie: What's wrong with being female?

Me: Everything

Roastie: Sarah is female.

Me: She has female genitalia yes.

Roastie: Then that's a female dumbass.

Me: That's very transphobic of you Joker...

Sarah: Ew, I don't wanna be some fat FtM trans who thinks not showering for two weeks makes me a man.

Me: Yeah but if you did that it'd be boy-smell so it's fine.

(literally everyone groans)

Admin: Gross

Black atheist: Freaky ass nigga

Roastie: I hate you so much Jim (I'm just giggling and smoking)

Sarah: Y'all niggas can't appreciate a good menace to society

Black atheist: THAT IS NOT YOUR WORD WHITE BITCH

Sarah: I'M MAKING IT MY WORD MONKEY-MAN

Admin: Ok that was uncalled for

Me: Well we're doing the Batman thing so that's why he's monkey-man. He has the strength and agility of ten monkeys.

Sarah: LOL

Admin: That was not her aim and you know it. God... You two play off of each other

Sarah: It's called a healthy relationship. You should try it some time.

Me: He can't cause he's an incel but somehow it's still men's fault.

Admin: YOU KNOW I COULD JUST KICK BOTH OF YOU

Me: See? I touched a nerve

Admin: I literally sleep with like three girls at the same time

Me: That's not a big accomplishment dude, I've done that.

Sarah: You better not be doing that shit now.

Me: Hon, we talk like several hours a day half of it here. If I was screwing around you'd know about it.

Sarah: THAT'S NOT A NO THOUGH lol

Black atheist: He could do better

Sarah: Fuck you monkey-man

Me: I couldn't. But I appreciate the offer monkey-man. You keep metropolis safe.

Black atheist: Ok one, the next person to call me that is getting shot.

Sarah: Typical behavior.

Black atheist: Shutup. Secondly, I am not offering. Gay nigga.

Admin: He does that all the time. He thinks EVERYBODY wants him.

Me: Noone proves to me they don't.

Admin: The fact you have exes kinda proves they don't.

Me: Thus proving you two wanna be my next mistakes.

Admin: THAT'S NOT HOW PROOF WORKS

Roastie: Just admit you're gay Jim, God damn.

Me: You'd be watching ya cuck

Black atheist: Can women even be cucks?

Me: I mean sure they can.

Sarah: Stop trying to groom my boyfriend into your cuckold fantasies.

Roastie: I'm not grooming anybody! Ahhhhhh! How are you both this crazy?!

Sarah: "Take your meds schizo!" Fucking reddit trash bitch.

Me: You're cute when you're angry Sarah: You're always cute

Admin: Both of you need meds. Prozac or Zoloft is sounds like.

[rametarin]

Another day..

Another stupid instance of witnessing people talk about Andrew Tate the way some bloviating megachurch televangelist jokes about rock singers being embodiments of Satan.

Just, switch out "icon of sin" with, "the fathead icon for the disaffected male to school shooter pipeline." Same stupid Satanic Panic, different bad guy that somehow represents a clandestine conspiracy for everything wrong in the world outside their control.

Tate is a moron and the manosphere a shallow and pathetic corner to sulk in, but my god some of you act like he's a J-RPG boss where if you just defeat him, evil will evaporate from the world, and, holy fuck. No. That's not how it works. That's not how men work. That's not how anything works. He has the same destined footprint as all those 80s self-help gurus. Do you remember them? Nobody does. They were popular and influential for all of a window of months before people abandoned them like last May's fashion.

Maybe I'm just sore but, I was in highschool when there was panic about the "Trenchcoat Mafia." Where students got stigmatized as potential school shooters because they had big, heavy coats where, WHO KNEW, MAYBE THEY WERE SPORTING A FIREARM BENEATH THEM.

But everybody fucking knew what was coming. The people looking for "signs" someone might be a potential school shooter, which meant scrutiny against boys specifically, any signs of "antisocial thoughts or behavior," which meant conform to what they looked for as 'good people' extra hard or be put in the Potential Shooter category to watch and get way too clumsily involved in their home lives with.

And with the not so quiet grumbling by radical feminism making Mars Panic a thing, insinuating there's some connection between any organized vocal resistance to anything Radical Feminism wants and automatically associating it with this chimerical ball of everything they're opposed to (as it must all somehow link together, even if it doesn't make sense) suddenly that means Andrew Tate existing means of course some angry gradeschooler called out for his racism or sexism is going to get so pouty he shoots up a school or something. Because clearly, "that's how men's brains work in THIS society", right?

But you point out how some demographics are acceptable to be ignorant towards, and trample on their civil rights just because they're a majority, and you get back, "LOL YALL WANNA BE OPPRESSED SO BAD . :^)" from Class Struggle Theorists. And you cannot have Radical Feminism without characteristics of Critical Legal Theory or Class Struggle Theory. Take the socialist shit away, you take the heart of radical and academic Feminism away- it just becomes general egalitarianism and actual drives for equality, untainted by arbitrary socialist relations rhetoric.

So we get Duluth models of criminal justice and domestic violence policies that obligately treat the man as the aggressor and person to remove from the situation, the woman to give the house, and red flag laws that target men to remove their firearms because someone else, "doesn't feel safe." And them arguing this is "perfectly okay, not at all a violation of their civil rights," because men.

Some of you project so hard and see Tate as such a threat, because he's that guy you wish you could anthropomorphize The Patriarchy into just to have a boss fight. And.. he's just not that. He will never be that. He does not represent that. He never did. He never will. He's an idiot that disaffected milquetoast losers watch, and he's not even anywhere NEAR as popular as you people think he is.

Just because you aren't a bleating member of a church that dimly just does whatever the fiery charismatic preacher steers you to think and do on the basis of God, don't think you're free of the faux pas of acting like a grazing sheep, when you bleat and eat the grass. Many parents hated rock and metal music because they didn't represent the sorts of axioms and values that they wanted to see reproduced in behaviors and thoughts by shallow parents into their kids.

And projecting every irritated, disaffected boy as a potential mass murderer just because they disagree with you and what you believe to be the sum total of human civilization and culture and moral rightness, just because you believe it's more valid than religion, is extreme church sheep behavior.

[thequietmanno1]

Thelreads, MHA 273, Replies Part 2

1) “This is seriously fucked up, everything about how this quirk worked was revamped to the point of madness. Shigaraki was already terrifying with the raw power of it, but now- holy fuck, now I`m truly scared.”- Tomura was dangerous on an individual level when he first appeared, but it seemed laughable that his Quirk could be a threat to All Might if the later didn’t have several limiting factors in place to leave him vulnerable to his Bad Touch. Now, with Decay mastered to the point he can devastate a city with it alone, having the poer of AFO backing him up is just complete overkill. Tomura’s Decay is now potent enough he could theoretically stand a chance of killing All Might in his prime with it. 2) “Wait what the fuck- Are those the quirk erasing bullets? Oh jesus fuck I forgot that they even existed for a moment- Well, it was like, only one back then, right? Or aren`t those bullets, are they quirk flasks? Wait, did the doc managed to collect genetic material from Overhaul?”- He managed to duplicate the Bullets from the samples they retrieved from Overhaul- and it was technically Eri’s genetic material that was powering them – which means that, which Garaki’s capture and the machine being broken, those few remaining bullets Tomura’s salvaged are all that’s left of that game-breaking trump card. Dangerous in a long-term prospect, but as it stands, Tomura won’t really have any need of them to get the job done – their main threat was wide-scale distribution to the grunts of the PLF as a means of turning the odds against the more-skilled heroes they’d be contending with. Still, it means that X-Less’s actions weren’t entirely for naught, as he’s left Tomura with a still-limited number of available bullets to use. 3) “YEAH SHIGARAKI, WE NOTICED, BUT WHAT THE FUCK DID YOU SERIOUSLY LET YOUR PHONE CHARGING RIGHT BY YOUR TANK?

WEREN`T YOU INSIDE THAT SHIT FOR MONTHS? SHIGARAKI PLEASE THAT`S GONNA FUCK UP YOUR BATTERY”-  Tomura’s rich now thanks to Re-destro’s resources, he can afford to burn through a few phones – and it also indicates that Tomura wanted to waste no time in enacting his ‘purge’ of hero society the second he got out of that tank. He wanted direct access to Machia and his troops from the word go, and that resolute lack of hesitation with getting shit done bodes poorly for everybody… 4) “Yes, but some moron with an X over his crotch ended up messing everything. Now we`ll have to make shit up on the fly.

God, this is gonna be fucked up”- Flying by the seat of our pants and making it up as we go. Time for Izuku’s moment to shine then. 5) “MACHIA GOT HIS SCENT SOME CHAPTERS AGO, I REMEMBER THAT, BUT NOW HE HAS DIRECT ORDERS TO ACT, AND SOMETHING TELLS ME HE`S GONNA TAKE IT REALLY SERIOUSLY

AND THIS IS HOW EVERYTHING SPIRALS OUT OF CONTROL, RIGHT?”- Two unstoppable monsters at either battlefield, and neither combatants facing them seem capable of even slowing them down, let alone defeating them. They call the Secret Weapon a ‘game changer’ for a reason… 6) ““A few moments before hell breaks loose“ you should add, because fuck me those people have no idea that they`re right over Yellowstone before it blows up.”- Nobody expects the secret Kaiju monster hiding in the basement…. 7) “Poor Fat, he ran so much to get here, just to have to run all the way back”- Fatgum will have burned himself back into Fitgum by the end of this from all the exercise. 8) “Alright, so Geten merely managed to throw them off the groove for a moment, but they are already back at it full strength, which is an actual problem, because that means they are getting closer and closer to Machia without knowing he`s up again.

Fuck`s sake”-  Genten was just a precursor to the absolute chaos Machia’s going to unleash – and the scariest thing is that the big lug is doing it all unintentionally, just following his orders without specifically caring about any immediate context around him. 10) “Didn`t that dude die-

…

OH GOD

THAT IS TOGA, ISN`T IT?”- I think we found the Imposter…. 11) “Yeah well, Dabi had… other things to handle… And funnily enough, if he had taken someone with him he probably could`ve have taken down Hawks back then, but he just disappeared without a word. Dammit Dabi.”- Dabi had something a little different in mind to what his ‘allies’ did when he went off to do his own thing. At the very least, none of them would have been ok with him risking Twice’s life like that, even to further his own goals. As Ironic as it is, Dabi’s efficiency makes him a boon to the League in spite of his absolutely horrible team player mentality. 12) “OH GOD SO IT IS HER DOWN THERE

JESUS CHRIST, TOGA IS ON A RAMPAGE RIGHT NOW, AND GOING BY WHAT COMPRESS SAID, IT DOESN`T LOOK LIKE SHE`S AS MENTALLY STABLE AS SHE WAS BEFORE”- Toga was an efficient and stealthy serial-killer back when she was Mrs Nice murderer. With Jin killed like that, she’s in no mood to play nice anymore. 13)  “OH GOD THE GROUND IS CRACKING, HE`S COMING

I KNEW HE WOULD COME OUT EXACTLY WHERE THEY WERE

BECAUSE WHY WOULDN`T HE, THAT`S WHERE THE MOST CHAOS CAN BE HAD”-Given that was just his hand emerging, it seems machia’s gone full giant underground to easily dig his way to the surface, so it doesn’t matter when they are, that whole Villa is about to get worn like a hat. 14) “OH AND HERE HE COMES TO FIGHT SHIGARAKI

HE THINKS HE HAS A SHOT- WHAT, YOU`RE GONNA THROW A FIRE TORNADO AT HIM? DID YOU EVEN SEE WHAT HE DID THE MOMENT HE WOKE UP?

YOU ARE WAY OVER YOUR HEAD HERE ENDEAVOR

THIS IS NOT A HUMAN ANYMORE, YOU`RE DEALING WITH A DEMON MADE FLESH. SHIGARAKI ALMOST RIVALED THE GUN DEVIL HERE

YOU`RE GONNA BE MADE INTO ASHES BEFORE YOU NOTICE”- Sadly, it’s either try and fight him now, even hopelessly outgunned, or let Tomura rampage over everybody and fight him later when the situation’s gotten even worse. Tomura’s become an implacable force of devastation that’s an enemy to heroes everywhere, and the best chance is to fight him before he’s used to his new bag of tricks, or else he’ll destroy everybody once he’s mastered them all… @thelreads

[b-rainlet]

They did drop the line about Aemond at 13 being traumatized by a brothel visit set up by Aegon so there is a male SA victim narrative going on with Aemond. And just a big pile of Aegon as rapist narratives: Helaena, Dyana, technically Aemond, implied children in the pit? This is why while I did not read the Helaena speech as "He rapes me" I believe it was the writing team's intention. At this point, I just wonder who'll be next

Oh it's definitely the writer's intention but I simple dislike that they chose to portray Aegon as a rapist in the first place.

It just very much feels like an easy way for the writers to go 'See how evil Aegon is?? This is why Rhaenyra should be on the throne!' instead of simply letting Aegon be a pawn in King's clothing.

It's not even the fact that people could've rooted for him! Like, I am pretty sure Aegon is one of the few people on this show who actively dislike sitting on the throne and who would be happy to bend the knee and that's the goddamn tragedy of the story! That even though Rhaenyra was named heir and Aegon has no interest in being heir, people will keep on pushing Aegon to ursurp his sister simply based on the fact that he is male.

Why do you need to add an 'Oh, he's also a bad person!' to that? I don't really think it does anything at all for the story.

So I personally would've enjoyed them showing Rhaenyra and Aegon as two sides of the same coin, as people who are both suffering from expectations which are put upon them simply based on their gender.

That would've made both of them more interesting as people and it would've expanded the narrative of 'women suffering under the patriarchy' to 'people who don't fit rigid gender roles and archaic stereotypes suffer under the patriarchy' which I think would've been truly feminist.

(Little side note here, but I think a lot of shows/movies try to incorporate feminism into their writing but then forget that feminism includes everybody and that's how we end up with a few 'woke' buzzwords in some scenes and the same fucking problems still).

Then there's the thing about the Aemond scene. You're right, Aemond definitely is/could be framed as a SA victim there, but given that they don't address the fact that Aegon is one too - but go out of their way to imply that Helaena is, even though it's obvious neither of them want to have sex with each other and Aegon must be suffering from that too - we'll see how far they'll go with that or if they decide to drop it once it's time for Aemond to impregnate Alys.

(I personally hope they make him as shy and skittish and uncomfortable as possible around the concept of sex because it would fit into what they tried to allude to with said scene but we'll see).

You know which other guy was forced to sleep with somebody purely because of pressure from Westerosi Society? Laenor.

And aside from a throwaway line about him and Rhaenyra trying and it not working, most of the focus there is on Rhaenyra - and I get it, she's the main character, her having bastards weakens her claim to the throne blah blah, but if they were so hellbound on making Aegon the 'new Joffrey' they could've at least used Laenor to shed some light on male suffering but no.

I simply think the show is lacking in that department and it's especially sad for Aegon because he's such a tragic character but now he's reduced to rapist and that's it.

[captainexplody]

International Spies

Kitty Katzenberg is an international spy, one of the best international spies for the company she works for, International Spies Inc. Society (or ISIS for short). Everybody else at the firm loves her, they’re in awe of her. Once she’s finished an incredible spy mission she wanders back into the headquarters, filling out her spy papers with a purple pen. Nobody else in the company can use anything other than a standard black pen for filling out their official spy papers, except for Kitty Katzenberg. She gets special treatment because she’s the best spy, special treatment like being able to file out her official spy papers using a purple pen. Y’know, important stuff. You’re probably asking yourself, ‘why don’t they all just use emails and online stuff instead of pen and paper gubbins?’ and I must applaud you on your use of the word ‘gubbins’ but the rest of your question is pure gubbins. People like using pen and paper sometimes, not everything is online you fucking prick! Get off Twitter sometime!

Anyway so Kitty Katzenberg is the best spy on the force, the spy force. So here’s one of her missions or whatever, ok? Alright ok, ok so she’s out on a secret spy mission, yeah? Off into the far away land, like Spain or somewhere. So she’s romancing this guy, alright? Because that’s what spies do, see. I’ve seen loads of James Bond films and I know that one thing spies do a lot is have sex with people they want to get information out of. So Kitty Katzenberg goes back to this guys mansion, he’s the bad guy so obviously he has a mansion. Imagine you went back to the Kingpin’s residence and it’s just some tiny little flat in the middle of Manhattan and he’s all like ‘urh sorry it’s all I can afford’, you’d be like ‘dude you’re the Kingpin, you can’t afford a better place than this? There’s a big hole in the wall here!’ It’d be weird, is what I’m saying to you. 

Anyway so Kitty Katzenberg goes back to this guys mansion, and he’s snorting hookers off a big pile of coke, know what I mean? He’s a bigshot, a real big gun in the game of ‘Big Guns (tm)’, he’s clearly got secrets. Secrets like ‘where’d you get all this money from?’ and ‘why’d you kill that guy right there? Is it some sort of drug thing? Because if it is I’m just not interested, frankly. I’ll walk away right now. Unless if by me walking away that causes you to come and try to kill me, in which case I will pick the option which results in my life and not my death. Did this make sense? Was this too confusing? I can write it down for you if you want.’

Anyway he’s a real bad guy is what I’m saying here. So you can see what Kitty Katzenberg is up against. She successfully seduces the bad guy, who we can call Chip McCoy. Sure! We can call him that! Whatever you want! Weird name for you to pick, but whatever, we’ll roll with it. So Chip McCoy is snorting some sort of material up his nosular capacitors (nose) and Kitty is secretly taking pictures with her spy camera, because thats what spies do, yeah? They have this tiny camera that they use to take secret pictures in secret. So she’s taking pictures and eventually Chip McCoy calls Kitty Katzenberg over, and he tells her that he wants to show her his bedroom. Katzenberg (Kitty) agrees to have a look at the architecture, because her undercover character is a fan of building design. It’s the best cover job to pick! Nobody would suspect someone who was a fan of building design would be a spy for the whatever I said the company was called earlier (ISIS)?

Kitty Katzenberg walks into Chip McCoy’s bedroom, and her eyes widen. She’s in awe of what she sees. Because here’s the thing that I didn’t mention like 5 paragraphs earlier, but Kitty Katzenberg loves ceramic horses. She looks around the entire bedroom, and there are shelves and shelves of ceramic horses, all lined up. She instantly beelines towards a shelf, and then another, checking the figures to see how rare and valuable they were. She knows the value of a ceramic horse, let me tell you, and she’s astounded by the rare figures she can see.

‘Pretty sweet, yeah?’ says Chip McCoy as he sits on the edge of his big bed and pulls his manky shoes off. ‘I fucking love ceramic horses, dude. Got the biggest collection of ceramic horses in the world, I daresay. I keep the crappy ones in here, the real priceless ones are hidden in a bunker that I NEVER give a way to people I’ve met on a one-night-stand’. Kitty Katzeberg is mesmerised. THESE are the crappy ones? What the hell does he have hidden away?! She thinks that, she doesn’t say that out loud. Kitty Katzenberg turns slowly towards Chip McCoy. Would she? Could she? Would she throw her entire spy career away in order to get her hands on these beautiful ceramic horses? Would she throw away the security of her job and the love of her country for some little horse figurines? I mean they are REALLY pretty, man. You should see them. You have to imagine what they looked like, but Kitty Katzenberg can see for herself, with her own eyes that are totally real within the realms of this story. 

What if I ended this right here? With an unsatisfying conclusion that you have to come to yourself, placing all of the imagination on the reader and none of it on the writer? What if I was that arrogant, that assured of my own ability to captivate an audience that they figure out the end of the story by themselves and are completely and utterly satisfied by that? I’m not that good of a writer. Anyway so Kitty Katzenberg shot Chip McCoy in the head and stole the horse figures, alright? See I told you I wasn’t a good writer.

[haadeswrites]

Elysium

god this fic took forever i’m so sorry!! but hey, first fic on the new blog! <33 also y’all should really thank @iwaasfairy who listened to me complain about this fic for a solid month, she’s the reason it got finished

Cult leader Oikawa Tooru x female reader

tw: indoctrination, extremely dubious consent, blood, yandere themes, religious themes, minor character death, implied abuse & drug use, mild smut, nsfw

The island itself is breathtaking

Pristine beaches with gleaming white sand, vast swathes of lush, green rainforest and waterfalls that cascade into shimmering pools of crystal clear water. Untouched, undisturbed; a paradise. At least, that’s how Ryuji had described it. 

Paradise, but only in the sense that a gingerbread cottage in the middle of the woods is paradise to a lost and hungry child. 

He hadn’t been wrong. Bare feet sink into soft, white sand as you climb from the boat - the warmth just toeing the line between pleasant and burning. Gentle waves ebb and flow behind you, and there’s a light breeze that kisses your skin, the taste of seasalt carrying in the wind. Home, it seems to sing.

A laugh sounds somewhere in the distance, yet the only other figure on the beach is a man walking steadily towards you. He smiles when he sees you’ve noticed him; friendly, non-threatening. It’s a far cry from the swarming welcoming committee you’d been dreading, and you wonder if that’s somehow intentional as well. 

As the boat pushes back out to sea he comes to a stop before you, “I’m Makki,” he says, pushing the fringe of his hair back and giving you a not-so-subtle once over. Whatever he sees must meet approval, because his grin only widens, “Welcome to the Commune.”

Ryuji wasn’t wrong; the island is a beautiful, deadly thing.

—

You’d never heard of the Commune before the phone call. 

And maybe that shouldn’t be so surprising. You’ll be the first to admit you’re hardly an expert, but from what you do know, groups like the Commune – cults – don’t spring up out of thin air and start broadcasting their mistreatment and systematic abuse. 

They’re not the kind of people that have sweet old ladies clutching their pearls and mothers shepherding their children away – at least, not in the beginning. Not entirely. They’re not out to recruit extremists to further their cause, they choose to prey on the vulnerable, the lost and the disillusioned. Those easily manipulated. You suspect that’s why when you google the Commune, all you find is a website for what essentially looks like a long term luxury wellness retreat.

‘The Commune is about healing and harmony, about returning to nature, supporting one another to forge a brighter, more holistic future together… a self-sufficient community living apart from technology and other evils of modern society.’ 

You fight the urge to roll your eyes as you scroll through. There’s a whisper of philosophical teachings woven throughout, a page dedicated to their founder, Oikawa Tooru – smiling handsomely in every single picture, because what would a burgeoning cult be without a charismatic leader – but there’s not enough.

So here you are, on an island hundreds of miles away from home living amongst strangers; because Ryuji wouldn’t have sounded so terrified if this was just some alternate, free-loving bunch of hippies.

And even with all that he’d told you, everything you thought you’d be prepared for, the Commune is like nothing you could’ve imagined. 

Makki introduces you to Asuka, a woman only a few years older than yourself, dark haired and stunningly beautiful, and winks as he tells her to take you under her wing. She smiles brightly, eyes twinkling, and pulls you into a heartfelt hug – as if you’ve known each other your whole lives.

“We’re so glad you’re here!” she beams.

You’d like to hate her. 

It feels like you're supposed to, sometimes; when she gets that dreamy look in her eyes and starts talking about Oikawa and the Commune and how lucky everyone here on the island is. Yet there’s something about her – the genuine warmth she emanates maybe, or the kindness in her eyes – that makes it difficult for you not to like her.

“You should come to the gathering tomorrow,” she hums idly one afternoon, maybe a week or so after your arrival. The two of you are sitting on the edge of the pier, legs dangling down into the water, tangled fishing nets to be repaired strewn between you.

“I always go,” you reply.

She laughs, fixing you with a knowing look, “And sit right at the very back, all but running off the moment we finish?” 

And your traitorous heart skips a beat. 

“It’s okay to take things slowly,” she says. “We understand that being a part of the Commune is a big change from the life you knew, and that not everybody is able to see what we see and embrace those changes.” 

Asuka sets down the knot she’s working through and reaches for your hand, a gentle smile on her face, “But you shouldn’t be afraid. You’re meant to be here, I can feel it. You just need to stop fighting against it; surrender yourself to us, to the island, and everything’ll make sense, I promise.”

It’s dangerous territory. One wrong word could set off alarm bells, yet you can’t help pressing just a little.

“Do you ever miss it, then? Life outside the Commune?” 

Your family. Friends. The life you left behind before you came here to be brainwashed like all of the others.

“Why would I?” she answers without missing a beat, and it’s hard to ignore the bitter flicker of disappointment you feel at her answer. “The island provides for us, we don’t have to spend our days selling off tiny pieces of ourselves just to make ends meet. It’s paradise here, and we have Oikawa to thank for that. Why would I ever want to go back?”

Silence falls between you as you struggle to think of something to say to salvage the situation. Yet Asuka isn’t even looking at you, instead staring out at the water with a strangely pensive expression. 

“Did you know I was married once?” The words seemingly out of the blue, you can only shake your head. For a moment, she doesn’t reply, watching as the waves rise and crash offshore. And then;

“I was young, eighteen or so, fresh out of high school and he was a small town cop.” Her eyes flicker to yours, and your heart clenches at the sadness and pain echoing there. “I thought he was a good man, once upon a time.”

A chord strikes deep, your chest tightening involuntarily at her words. It’s not the same, of course it’s not the same, and yet… 

No. You stop the errant thought in its tracks. Groups like the Commune prey on the vulnerable, you know this. People like Ryuji, like Asuka, like–

Her fingers squeeze around yours, pulling you back to the present. “Come to the gathering tomorrow. Listen to Oikawa, it’ll help.”

—

She doesn’t give you a choice in the matter – dragging you by the hand to sit right at the front of the gathered crowd that very night.

Oikawa’s handsomer up close; tall and dark haired with pretty eyes and long, sweeping lashes that frame delicate cheekbones, it’s not hard for you to see how a man like him has amassed such an impassioned following. 

Once he starts actually speaking, however, you realise that his good looks and charming smile are just the tip of the iceberg. Oikawa’s utterly captivating as he preaches about the cycle of life and death and the paradise that awaits his faithful. Passionate and engaging, he speaks like he truly believes every word of the lies he’s spreading. 

And Asuka, her friends, the others gathered, they eat up every word like it’s gospel truth, resounding cheers and thunderous applause deafening around you. In the midst of the rapturous din, Oikawa’s eyes flit to yours.

Slowly, he smiles – a dazzling grin that makes your stomach flip – and everything; Asuka, the noise, the others swarming around you, it all fades away.

For one electrifying heartbeat, you’re frozen in place. Just you and Oikawa, trapped in the pull of each other’s gaze.

��

You can’t forget the reason you came.

But it’s… difficult, in a way you struggle to understand. You only have one purpose for being here, one goal; find Ryuji and bring him home. 

And yet, some days it’s like there’s a fog in your mind, and you have to focus to remember why you’re here at all. You catch yourself laughing with Asuka and her friends, the days passing by in a blur of endless, easy distractions. 

It barely feels like work when you’re sitting under the shade of the trees, eating the fruits you’ve picked by hand – ripe and sweet, unlike anything you’ve ever tasted – diving off waterfalls into the crystalline water and meandering down the shore collecting seashells. Even when you are working, mending clothes or cooking with the others, it fills you with a sense of contentment you can’t quite explain. 

Like you’re a part of something bigger. Like you’re doing something that matters.

Ryuji becomes a distant thought. A whisper in the back of your head, a niggling in your gut, easily brushed aside and ignored until there’s a moment of quiet. In the dead of night, the balmy summer night’s breeze kissing your bare skin, you lie awake, lost in memories of the last time you’d seen him. 

Fists angrily pounding at your door, the yelling that gave way to sobs and the hoarse, desperate pleas that followed. Ryuji’s face; pupils blown wide and eyes rimmed in red, darting restlessly around as he held you too tight and begged–

Rolling over in bed, you gaze out your window at the star flecked sky, the shadows of the forest that lie at your doorstep, and wonder what it is that scares you more; that you’ve lost track of the days you’ve been here, and saving Ryuji is starting to feel like an afterthought, or that you could so easily forget all of it, find a place here in the Commune and be happy.

‘The island, it–it fucks with your head.’

Ryuji’d told you that, and you’d brushed it off as paranoia. You need to find him. Find him and get the hell outta dodge.

You can deal with the fallout later.

—

Kiyoshi. 

He’d mentioned the name a few times amidst his rambling – a friend of his on the island. You’re annoyed with yourself for not thinking of it sooner, however much like Ryuji himself, trying to focus and remember the name is like wading through thick mud.

Once you do, though, finding him amongst the hundred and fifty or so inhabitants is the easy part. 

There’s no strict division between genders within the Commune, however Kyoshi, despite his somewhat lean stature, is among the builders of the island and his path doesn’t often cross with yours. 

From Asuka you find out that he’s been a part of the Commune for years now, before even she joined, and that he mostly sticks to himself, though you’ve seen him chatting quietly to a few of the other men, a perpetually angry looking blonde in particular.

It’s the last part that piques her interest, “Why’re you so curious, anyway?” she asks, her face lighting up as a sudden thought occurs. “Do you want me to introduce you two? To be honest, I didn’t think he’d be your type, if you’re interested, though…”

Cheeks aflame, you’re quick to shut her down. “No, no, nothing like that. I’ve just… seen him around and we’ve never really spoken, I guess.”

A lame excuse, though mercifully she lets the subject drop without too much prodding.

Therein, of course, lies the problem. Walking up to Kyoshi and casually trying to drop Ryuji into the conversation without raising red flags is risky, but what other options do you have? You’ve already spent too much time on this island.

Although, maybe Asuka has the right idea. 

While you hadn’t been lying when you said you weren’t interested in Kyoshi in that way, nobody else knew that. Who would really look twice at the shy newbie striking up a conversation with the quiet, easygoing man? He wasn’t unattractive per se, and from the brief interactions you’d seen of him, he seemed kind enough.

You have enough patience (barely) to wait for dusk the following night. There’s a celebration, something about the full moon and a blessing on the island and the Commune– you hadn’t really been paying attention when Oikawa had spoken about it. Still, it’s too good an opportunity to pass up. With the fire pits crackling, and the dancing and music and the sweet honey wine flowing freely, nobody will be paying too much attention to what you’ll be doing. Hopefully, the alcohol will also serve to lower Kiyoshi’s guard, and perhaps if you’re really, really lucky, loosen his tongue as well. 

Of course, you’re not banking on him telling you exactly where Ryu is or what happened to him– and that’s assuming he actually knows – but at this point you’ll take anything over the nothing you currently have. A tiny slip up, that’s all you’re asking for. 

As the sun descends beyond the horizon, you play your role well, laughing and chatting amongst friends, sipping carefully at the cup of wine in your hand as you wait for an opening. And perhaps it’s your nerves working against you, but you find that it’s not just Kiyoshi your attention is drawn to. 

Up on the shore, away from the rabble, Oikawa lounges back with a cup of the same honeyed wine you’re pretending to drink. For the most part he seems deep in conversation with Iwaizumi, his right hand, but every once in a while he glances up, letting his gaze roam over the crowd of his followers.

Every inch a king and his general.

And it would seem benevolent, if not for the strange smile he wears – the one that widens when his eyes catch yours.

Swallowing tightly, you force yourself not to dwell on it, to ignore the odd sensation curling in your gut and the way your skin prickles under his attention. Now is not the time to lose focus.

Pushing all thoughts of Oikawa aside, you subtly scan the beach once more, only to find that Kiyoshi’s moved, sitting now on a piece of old driftwood near the bonfire. Alone for the first time tonight. 

Your legs are moving before the thought even fully registers. 

“Do you mind if I sit?” you ask, gesturing to the empty space on the log beside him. 

Kiyoshi smiles, the laugh lines at corners of his eyes crinkling pleasantly, and shakes his head, “Not at all.”

“Thanks.”

Taking another sip of your wine, you will your shoulders to relax, your racing pulse to slow. This has to seem natural, and so you force yourself to hold your tongue, let your head loll back and breathe deep, soaking it all in. You can hear the others in the distance, the music and the dancing, the happy laughter and shouts that beckon – you want to go join them. Even your blood seems to hum, a call of something other pulsing through your veins.

But you pay it no mind. There are more important things to worry about tonight. 

Indeed, steel blue eyes have been appraising you curiously for a while now. “This is your first Lunar blessing, isn’t it?” Kiyoshi asks after a moment.

You nod, humming in agreement. Less than a month; you’ve been here less than a month. Is that a good thing?

“Are you enjoying yourself?”

A harmless enough question, and again you nod your head. “Yeah, it’s…” you pause, searching for words that won’t sound hollow. “It’s paradise. I feel like I need to pinch myself just to make sure it’s real.”

He smiles gently. “But?” he probes.

Grimly, you wonder whether Kiyoshi’s usually this perceptive, or if you’re just a really terrible actor. In a way, you suppose it really doesn’t make a difference; you’ve come too far to turn back now – at least not without raising suspicion. 

So you lie with a truth, and pray that it works.

“I had a friend I was supposed to meet here,” you confess quietly, gazing not at him but the crackling flames of the bonfire, the burning embers carried off into the night. “He was the one who said I should come, but now I’m here and he’s not and every time I catch myself enjoying this–”

“You feel guilty,” he surmises, cutting you off. “Because he’s not here to enjoy it with you.”

Wordlessly, you nod – and maybe it isn’t so much of an act when your eyes begin to glisten, your smile wavering. 

Kiyoshi’s silent for a moment, and you take another sip of the honey wine to hide your nerves. “You shouldn’t, you know,” he says eventually. “Feel guilty, I mean. You belong here, with the Commune. You’re happy here. Paradise… isn’t for everybody.”

He doesn’t say it to be cruel, more like he’s simply stating a fact, and somehow that makes it all the more unnerving. And it’s nothing you haven’t listened to Oikawa preach about time and time again. The Commune is for the devoted, the faithful – the lucky few – and you’ve never thought too hard about what he’d meant by that.

The Commune’s small, maybe a hundred and fifty or so people on the island. There’d been no initiation, no test of faith or trial period you’d had to pass when you arrived – at least, none that you’d been aware of. You simply stepped off the boat and they’d welcomed you with open arms. 

An uneasy sensation settles into your gut, goosebumps prickling at your skin despite the heat of the midsummer night. 

That… doesn’t make sense. It can’t. Absolute control’s too important in groups like this, they couldn’t just let anyone–

Kiyoshi speaks again, his calm voice pulling you from your thoughts. “What was his name?” 

You blink at him slowly – stupidly. “Sorry?”

“Your friend,” he clarifies. “What was his name?”

“Oh, um- Ryuji.”

Kiyoshi’s brow furrows in thought for a moment, but he merely shakes his head, “Doesn’t ring a bell, but like I said, not everyone who arrives stays with us for long.”

He looks you right in the eye as he says it.

You don’t understand the cold, foreboding that seeps through your veins, because he’s lying. He has to be. 

Ryuji was here. They were friends, Ryu’d told you that–

Why did you think this stupid plan would work anyway? That he’d tell you anything, much less the truth when this whole fucked up island is full of liars and those too indoctrinated to know the difference?

“You alright?” he asks when abruptly, you shoot to your feet beside him.

And it takes every ounce of willpower you have left to force an easy smile to your lips, raising your cup just a fraction, “Yeah, just gonna go get a refill. Thanks for the talk, Kiyoshi.”

Whether he notices that your wine’s barely touched or not, you don’t care – not as you turn on your heel without another word and head back up the beach. 

Your head is pounding, your body trembling – you don’t hear the call of your name until a hand reaches out and grasps at your wrist, spinning you around.

Asuka greets you with a wide grin, Makki and a tall, broad shouldered man you think is called Mattsun standing either side of her – the former’s arm slung casually over her shoulder. “There you are! I’ve been looking for you,” she says. “Come on, we’re gonna go swimming, it’s so pretty out there!”

You glance out towards the ocean. Moonlight bathes the inky blue water, light shimmering off the rippling tide; some of the others are already out there, splashing amongst the waves. 

“Clothing optional, of course,” Makki laughs, and Asuka tugs on your wrist once more. 

“C’mon, it’ll be fun!”

But you shake your head, slowly pulling your hand from her grip, “I’m not feeling great, I think I’m gonna head back.”

Asuka frowns, concern marring her pretty features. “Are you okay? Do you need us to call Mizo–”

“No,” you say, cutting her off. Healer Mizoguchi is the last person you need to see right now. “I just– I just need to go lie down for a bit. You guys go have fun – enjoy the blessing, I’ll be fine.”

Makki and Asuka share a fleeting look, but it’s Mattsun who interjects before either one of them can speak, “I’ll walk you back, then.”

Your stomach churns. It doesn’t sound like a suggestion.

And the smart thing to do would be to accept his help; the walk from the beach to your villa isn’t far, and while you’re not as familiar with Mattsun as you are with Makki or Asuka, it’s not like he’s going to hurt you or anything, but–

“Really– you don’t need to, it’s fine,” you smile weakly, shuffling back as he reaches to offer you his arm. “Go swim, I’ll see you guys in the morning.”

Mattsun shrugs easily enough, falling back into line with the other two – yet there’s something in the way he grins and holds your gaze for a beat longer. A glimmer of amusement, as if there’s some joke you're not a part of. “I’ll hold you to it, sweetheart.”

The heat that floods your cheeks clashes uncomfortably with the cloying heaviness in your stomach, but somehow you manage to stutter out one last goodbye before turning back to scamper off in the direction of your room.

–But not to lie down.

There’s not a cloud in the sky, and the full moon’s bright. No need for a torch, not unless you decide to venture into the heart of the forest.

You’ve been a fool. Kiyoshi, Asuka, Makki, Mattsun; you can’t trust any of them to help you, even unwittingly. Ryuji’s here on the island – somewhere – and every second that slips away, every second that you allow yourself to forget puts him in further danger.

And so you cling to your discomfort, ground yourself in it. The prickling sensation at the back of your neck, the tightness in your chest as you slip past your villa, keeping low and quiet – they’re a reminder that there is something insidious here on the island, that you have to get out.

You and Ryuji.

He’s here. Away from the others, kept under lock and key as punishment, or maybe being forced to undergo whatever kind of glorified brainwashing they’ve got going on, but here. You need to be smart about this, because while you don’t intend to stop until you find him, tonight will be your best shot – while everyone’s distracted down on the beach. 

For the first time in a long time, it feels like you have a clear head. 

Creeping through the underbrush, you steer clear of the well trod pathways that lead towards habitation. You’ve been there, and to the docks, and the river. 

If they’re still keeping him here (and they are, you refuse to entertain the possibility that it could be otherwise) then it’s not somewhere out in the open. A bird cries out in the distance shattering the calm of the night, and you flinch – but it only serves as another reminder that your time tonight is limited; you cannot afford to delay. You wrack your brain, trying to dredge up memories of the last few weeks, surely you must have seen something–

“Lost?”

The single word, spoken in a deep, gruff voice has your blood running cold.

Slowly, you turn. 

Iwa stands behind you in the thicket, his face utterly impassive. Briefly, you contemplate whether it’s worth trying to bluff your way out of this, but Iwa’s eyes narrow, flashing in the dim light and you think better of it.

A sigh escapes you, your shoulders deflating. “Where is he– Ryuji?” you ask; a whisper rather than a demand.

Iwa’s expression gives nothing away. Did he know, or have you handed him the smoking gun of a crime that’d fallen through the cracks? Does it even matter anymore? You’re just–

You’re tired. 

Exhausted. In the space of a few moments all of that shining determination and resolve; it fled, leaving a gaping hole in its wake. This has to end, you can’t keep fighting against them forever. You can’t keep drowning in this guilt, feeling torn every second that you spend here on this stupid island. You just want to find Ryuji and go home.

… Right?

A tense beat passes as Iwa appraises you, and then; “Come with me.”

The hand he places on your shoulder doesn’t give you much choice. His grip isn’t what you’d describe as gentle, yet he’s careful enough to make sure you don’t trip or stumble as he marches you north. 

In the thick of the forest away from the beach, it’s eerily quiet. Every twig that snaps underfoot, every ragged breath you draw; it feels too loud. Out of place amongst the stillness of the midsummer night. 

And isn’t it ironic, that for the first time since you set foot in this paradise, you feel like you’re trespassing?

A bead of sweat trickles down from your temple and your mind unwittingly drifts back to Mattsun and Makki. Are they still swimming with Asuka? Probably, you reason. It’s hard to pinpoint exactly how long it’s been since you left them on the beach, but surely no more than an hour.

And strangely, like water drawn from the depths of a well, an image comes to mind; the four of you standing in the waves, you perched atop Mattsun’s shoulders, screaming and giggling in delight as Asuka tries to knock you down again, two sets of eyes watching from the shore… 

You should have stayed on the beach.

“Can I ask you something?” 

“You can ask,” he replies drily – humouring you, you suppose.

Your lips quirk upwards for the briefest of moments. “What happens on the Lunar blessing? Asuka, the others– no one told me what it was.” 

Iwaizumi doesn’t answer you immediately, but you feel his fingers reflexively tighten on your shoulder. Likely it wasn’t the question he was expecting; surely there were others that you could have asked – but you don’t really want the answers to those.

If you’re being led like a lamb to proverbial slaughter, what good would it do you to know it? 

And yet as the seconds pass and no answer seems forthcoming from your captor, you resign yourself to the fact that your curiosity will remain unsated. You don’t even know what prompted you to ask in the first place; knowing Oikawa it’s probably some grand, meaningless spectacle. Pretty, hollow words spoken only to–

A heavy sigh draws you from your thoughts, and you falter in your step, almost tripping over your own feet in the process. Iwa’s quick to right you, urging you forward with a less than gentle nudge. “Walk straight,” he grunts, yet it lacks any true heat. Anticipation flutters through your veins, and he mutters a soft curse behind you. “Fine. It… it’s an exchange.” 

An exchange? What the hell was that supposed to mean? Your eyebrows draw together, mouth opening to press the matter, but Iwa beats you to the punch.

“You’ll find out for yourself soon enough, now shut up.”

You have no response to that, so you do.

—

The two of you walk in silence for what feels like hours. Eventually, the terrain becomes steeper, the worn path you’re treading twisting and winding, and you realise you must be close to the mountains at the heart of the island. 

As your breath comes in heavy pants, your legs beginning to ache, you can’t help but be lost in the beauty of it all.

The flora’s different here, unlike any you’ve seen before. Flowers bursting from the bark of towering trees, blooms of vibrant hues; reds and purples and soft, baby pinks. Even the vines at your feet curl amongst pretty white buds that gleam invitingly under the moonlight. Your jaw falls open as you gaze around in wonderment. 

You forget why you’re walking, where it is that you’re heading. Iwa’s grip relaxes as a quiet gasp escapes you, and he doesn’t stop you when you stray from the path to take a closer look. You can’t resist reaching out to touch the silken petals, leaning in to smell their perfume. Soft and light and sweet, your eyes flutter shut, a smile creeping across your visage. 

It reminds you of home. Not your actual home – the rundown, tiny shoebox apartment you gave up before you came here – but something deeper.

Home, like the long summer days spent playing in your parents’ backyard. Home, like afternoons curled up by the window, watching the rain come down in sheets outside. 

Home, like the comfort of arms wrapped around you; two hearts beating in sync.

“C’mon,” Iwa interrupts after a minute or so, his voice a touch less gruff. “We’re almost there.”

Dazed, you find yourself nodding, allowing him to guide you back to the path. This time, he doesn’t grab you by the shoulder, seemingly content enough to walk by your side. 

True to his word, it’s only another few minutes before you see it; a wooden villa, four times the size of your own and far, far grander, set amongst a clearing of trees on the mountainside. Confused, your eyes flicker from the villa to Iwa and back again. Gossamer curtains billow lightly in the breeze, a warm, inviting glow spilling from the open windows. Surely this cannot be where he meant to lead you… and yet he merely stands at your side, arms folded across his broad chest, watching you expectantly. 

“You gonna make me carry you up there?” he asks, not unkindly.

Swallowing tightly, you shake your head. 

Another glance, and you catch a shadow lingering by the window. Your heart skips a beat, apprehension curling in your gut as you begin to walk, every step feels less steady than the last. You’re almost glad when Iwa takes you by the arm; if only so that you have something to focus on other than the growing tightness in your chest. The villa, with its pretty flowers and airy, elegant grandeur is far from the isolated cell you’d been afraid of, yet the uncertainty of what you’re walking into eats at you all the same.

Is this where they’ve been keeping Ryu, or has he brought you here for another reason?

Nothing, however, can prepare you for what you find inside. Warm light emanates from lanterns that bathe the room, and your eyes widen as you stare around you.

Strange, gold carvings inlaid with mother of pearl decorate the thick, woodens support beams, a pot of incense burns on a table overflowing with fresh fruit. There’s a jug of the same honeyed wine you’d drank earlier in the night and two cups set on an ornate stand nearby – just within arms reach of one of the chaise lounges.

Iwa affords you little time to gape, drawing you further in. Silken tapestries hang from the walls – you’re pulled along too quickly to truly take note, but the brief glimpses you get hint at a story; a divine being cast from his home, lost and wandering.

It tugs at something buried within you, and uncomfortable, you tear your eyes away.

The two of you reach a closed door at the end of the hall, and Iwa pulls you to a stop, knocking once.

“Come,” a familiar voice calls.

You stiffen, though perhaps you should have foreseen this outcome. Who else would Iwa bring you to but to him? Distantly, you register his grip relaxing, the sound of the door sweeping open and his voice at your ear.

“Go on.”

And it’s funny, you think, how two halves of yourself can be so at odds with each other. Because while your stomach twists itself into knots, goosebumps prickling at your skin, your legs stumble forward of their own accord.

Two steps forward, and your breath catches in your throat.

It’s a bedroom, that much you can deduce from the decor, but that’s not what captures your attention. Nor is it Oikawa, leaning against the bureau with a genial smile – at least not at first. 

No. In place of a back wall, there’s open space, not so much as a panel of glass obstructing the view before you. And what a view it is; from this height you can see the sprawling forest below, the coastline dotted with bonfires and the moonlit ocean shimmering beyond. Where the floorboards end, there are steps, you realise as you unwittingly inch closer, leading to a cascading spring – likely fed from the waterfall you can hear rushing nearby.

How easy it would be to brush aside your worries, you think, to shed your clothes, slip into the cool, calm water and lose yourself entirely. Even amongst all you’ve seen and experienced on the island so far, this is incomparable. 

“Stunning, isn’t it?” Oikawa murmurs, coming up behind you.

His voice startles you, yet when you turn, you find him not gazing out at the scenery but rather at you, that same strange, knowing smile curling at his lips.

“Some days, I admit, it’s hard to tear myself away,” he continues, unbothered by your stunned silence. “But even I can’t neglect my duties for too long.”

You swallow, tongue darting out to wet your lips. Confusion twists through you at the conversational tone, surely he hasn’t brought you here just to chat about the impressive views, yet there’s no hint of disapproval on his face, no indication that he’s anything less than pleased with you.

It’s unnerving to say the least, but you’ll play along with his game if that’s what Oikawa wants.

“Beautiful,” you say, though the words feel woefully inadequate even as you speak them.

He hums in agreement, something akin to pride flickers in his eyes at your assessment, “A labour of love, I suppose. But… everything you see here, everything I’ve built, it comes with a price. You understand that, don’t you?”

“I-I’m sorry?” you stutter.

“Paradise,” he elaborates, his smile widening. “There’s no give without take. Those people down there,” he nods down at the beach, the tiny, ant-like figures still milling about, “the lost, the beaten, the abused – I gave them what they so desperately sought; a sanctuary. A life without struggle, without suffering.” He pauses for a moment, reaching forward to take your hand. You almost flinch, almost skitter across the room to put as much distance between you as you can, but you don’t–

His palm is warm as it envelops yours, a pleasant heat that seems to spread through your veins, easing your tense muscles. There’s nothing to fear from him, you’re safe with Oikawa.

“Aren’t you happy here?”

Yes.

“What about the price?” you ask instead, though it takes more concentration than it should to force the words out. 

Oikawa’s thumb sweeps along the back of your hand. “I never said it was your price to pay,” he soothes. 

There’s something wrong with that sentence, but another sharp knock at the door draws your attention before you can think too hard about it. You turn out of instinct, barely aware of the way his hand tightens fractionally around your own.  

A single finger at your jaw coaxes your attention back to him. “If you built a paradise, wouldn’t you give whatever necessary to ensure it flourished?”

Oikawa stares at you expectantly, deep brown eyes searching your face as he waits for an answer. Agreement would be the logical choice – the one he seems to want from you – but even as your lips part, the only sound that escapes is a breathless, confused noise. 

When you were a kid, maybe six or seven, your parents took you to the beach one day and you waded too far out into the water. The waves were bigger than you expected; all it took was one mistimed jump and you were dragged under.

It wasn’t for long, probably only seconds, and ultimately you were fine – but you remember those few seconds so vividly. The feeling of helplessly tumbling through the water, fighting to break the surface but not knowing which way was up. Your lungs crying out for oxygen, the disorientation and dizziness, the panic.

It feels like that now – like the floor’s dropped out from beneath you and you’re just hurtling through empty air, desperately trying to slow yourself down with nothing to grab onto.

None of this makes any sense. Your emotions are shot to pieces, too many parts of yourself being pulled in different directions and you’re not sure which ones you can trust anymore. How can you be? Oikawa’s still holding your hand, smiling at you, and you just want everything to stop for a second so you can right yourself and breathe–

The door opens.

Iwaizumi appears in your field of vision, dragging a bound, hooded figure behind him. And because this is all some big, cosmic joke, you get your wish. Both of them, actually. 

Time slows. 

Even with a burlap sack pulled over his head, you recognise the man Iwa shoves to the floor and sneers at. 

Hundreds of miles, weeks of uselessly traipsing around this fucking island, and finally– 

Finally, you’ve found Ryu.

There should be relief. Fear, considering his current state, yes, but Ryuji’s here and he’s alive and as the hood is ripped off his head Oikawa squeezes your hand and the only thing you feel is… anger.

Not a heated flash that surges through your blood. It’s slow and seething, insipid. You look at him, locked in place as empty, pleading eyes meet yours and all you can think is that all of this – everything – is his fault.

“Asuka told you why she came to me, didn’t she?” Oikawa asks.

Your brow furrows, why–why is he asking you that now, how did he even–

He slips closer behind you, letting your hand go in favour of your shoulder, his spare dragging lightly along the bare skin of your arm. “She was lost, in so much pain. The physical wounds, they heal after a while,” his voice is right in your ear, a low murmur that sends a shiver rippling down your spine.

It isn’t an unpleasant feeling.

“But the scars inside, well… sometimes those fester.”

Gagged and bound, kneeling at your feet, Ryu doesn’t even try to make a sound. 

He’s thinner than you remember. Face gaunt and bruised; there’s a half healed, mottled yellow one painted across the left side of his jaw, one eye purple and swollen. You glance at Iwa, standing stoically behind him, muscular arms folded across his chest. His work, you wonder, or others as well? You notice the tear tracks running down his face, catching the light of the lanterns, but it’s as if you’re seeing it all through a thick pane of glass. None of it reaches you, there’s nothing but that simmering, ugly feeling in your gut.

Oikawa hums, “I told you that Paradise wasn’t for everyone. It’s a haven, yes, but there are those who simply… don’t belong.”

His body’s so warm, pressed up against yours. Fingertips graze along your side, and this time you don’t bother biting back that tiny, breathless moan. Iwa briefly smirks at it, but there’s no embarrassment. Why should there be? Your eyes flit back to Ryu, bowed on the wooden floor.

Another memory resurfaces; A sharp crack and a ringing in your ears, Ryuji, eyes bloodshot and glazed, falling to his knees, clutching frantically at the leg of your pants as endless apologies spill from his lips. 

It wasn’t him. It was never him. 

“He hurt you,” Oikawa purrs. “He kept hurting you, I saw it.”

The words wash over you like waves breaking on the shore, but you find yourself nodding anyway. It was the truth, wasn’t it? A thousand tiny hurts, piled up on one another until you finally broke.

And you’d still come when he’d called.

Listened to him when he’d begged you not to hang up the phone.

“Iwa.” 

The brunet moves towards a grand chest of drawers pushed up against the western wall. An ornate dagger sits atop, strange and beautiful; the blade isn’t steel or any metal you’ve seen before, but some kind of black stone, the handle intricately carved ivory. You hadn’t even noticed it before, Oikawa’s room filled to the brim with odd trinkets and treasures, but now that you have, it’s hard to tear your eyes away.

Iwa takes it and carries it over towards the two of you, holding it with the utmost care. 

“Obsidian,” Oikawa informs you as he accepts the blade from his friend, bringing it in front of you both to show it off. “Pretty, isn’t it?” And while you can’t see his face, you can hear the smile in his tone.

He isn’t wrong though. 

Ever so carefully you reach out, the soft pads of your fingertips running along the obsidian surface, surprisingly cool to the touch. The razor sharp edges – wavy and asymmetrical, leading to a tapered point – you’re careful to avoid, almost positive you’d draw blood with the slightest touch. 

“Take it,” he urges, his breath ghosting over the shell of your ear. 

Obediently, you turn your hand over, your fingers wrapping around the hilt when he presses it against your palm. And as long fingers curl around yours, you idly wonder how old the dagger is – there’s not so much as a scratch on it, yet there’s something about the weapon in your hand that feels ancient. It thrums under your combined touch.

Oikawa jerks his chin at Iwa, and with a short nod and one last, lingering glance cast your way, the latter exits once again. 

Leaving you and Oikawa alone with Ryuji.

“It’s almost time,” he remarks – though time for what, you’re not entirely sure. His lips press against your hair, his arm dropping from your shoulder to your waist, drawing you flush against him. “I know why you came to me, the lies that led you here.”

Both of you turn your attention back to Ryuji at that, the bound man now shaking with the force of his muffled sobs, snot dripping from his nose. That bitter resentment rears its ugly head again, soothed only by Oikawa’s pacifying hum, his thumb now rubbing slow circles at your side. “Shh, I’m not angry – none of that matters now. You’ve found a home here, no? You want to stay on the island with me.”

You swallow, nodding your head rapidly. The thought of having to leave now, of being forced out after everything you’ve seen and felt and experienced here, you– you can’t fathom it. You don’t want to. 

Ryuji’d wrought so much damage, but even before he’d swept through your life… had you ever been happy? Were you ever truly accepted – or loved, for that matter?

You can’t go back to that life. You won’t; he’ll have to drag you kicking and screaming from the shore. The Commune is your home, this is where you belong. Here, with Oikawa.

“Good girl,” he croons, another kiss pressed to the crown of your head. You beam at the praise and Ryuji crumples a little further. “Death begets life, you understand now, don’t you?”

You glance at the obsidian dagger in your hand and then at Ryu, beaten and bruised, bowed in forced supplication before you, and nod.

His fingers tighten around yours, “Then do it.”

Leaning forward, you reach for Ryu, fingers lightly trailing down his ruined cheek, curling at his chin to coax his head upwards. He squeezes his eyes shut, pain and regret etched over every inch of his face, but he doesn’t fight you. 

Baring his throat to your dagger, Ryuji’s pleas take the shape of your name.

Muffled, thanks to the gag, but unmistakable. And for one single moment, you falter. 

This… this is wrong; for all his faults, and god knows there were plenty, Ryu didn’t des–

A wave of calm washes over you, allaying your fears, your doubts. Your breath leaves you in a heavy gust, taking with it the tension in your shoulders, and Oikawa’s voice, smooth and honeyed, reaches your ears once more, “Nothing comes without a price, doesn’t he deserve to be the one to pay it?”

With your hand still tucked inside of his, your arm moves with a will of its own; slashing with inhuman grace.

The dagger cuts deep, Ryuji’s eyes snapping open in shock as a spray of warm blood hits you both. He chokes – a horrid, wet, gurgling sound – wide, pleading eyes frantically shifting between you and Oikawa. Every beat of his failing heart sends fresh blood spurting from the gaping wound. It drenches his front, splatters across your dress, your face, crimson pooling at the wooden floorboards at his knees. His mouth falls open and shut, trying and failing to form coherent sounds and you just stand there and watch, the dagger hanging limply at your side.

It doesn’t take long; seconds at the most. 

Ryuji’s slumps to the floor, his body finally growing still as the light fades from his eyes. There’s a beat of absolute silence, and then–

Oikawa shudders behind you, a strangled, drawn out moan leaving his lips. You try to turn, but his arms lock around you, every muscle tensing, his back arching. The dagger in your hand grows hot, burning the soft skin of your palm, but with his fingers still tightly entwined with yours you can only whimper and endure it.

With a hoarse, guttural roar, a pulse of pure energy surges through the room like a shockwave. Every cell in your body lights up, electrified, buzzing; a dizzying euphoria unlike any you’ve felt before coursing through your blood. 

Across the island, voices cry out in delight, a symphony of life. The trees tremble and shake, invigorated and renewed, fresh buds bursting from the forest floor, blooming under the light of the full moon.

The harvests flourish, even the river swells in response to the call.

Death begets life, just as he promised.

And with every inch of your body alight and singing with pleasure, you can barely think much less protest (and why would you want to?) as Oikawa roughly yanks you around, hungry lips crashing against your own as his fingers pull and tear at your bloodstained dress. He wastes no time with foreplay, and you suspect only begrudgingly takes a moment to hoist you up against him and carry you to his bed.

There’s nothing gentle about the way he hauls your hips to his, sheathing his cock inside of your warm, tight cunt with one savage thrust, but you don’t care.

Not as you cling to him, fingernails raking along his shoulders as he presses your thighs further apart so he can fuck you deeper. It’s hard and rough and brutal, yet you moan for him all the same, his name a prayer swallowed up by feverish, claiming kisses.

Tonight, bathed in blood and the soft glow of moonlight, you offer your god everything.

—

“Look, look!” 

A small hand tugs at your skirt, and you glance down to find a little girl with pretty, dark curls holding up a crown of woven flowers.

“Do you like it?” she asks. 

Carefully, you take it from her, bringing it closer to examine. She watches you intently as you study it, lifting it this way and that to appraise her work, humming thoughtfully for good measure. “I think it’s beautiful work,” you tell her after a long enough pause, and you can’t help but smile at the way she lights up, preening under your praise. “Why don’t you go show your mama? I’m sure she’ll be very impressed.”

The girl nods rapidly, thanking you before skipping off in the direction of her parents. The sun’s hanging low in the sky, the fires already being readied for the night ahead. You’re not unaware of the watchful gaze that carefully monitors your every move, and the moves of anyone who ventures too close by. Soon enough, you’ll return home to the heart of the island – anticipation fluttering in your belly at the thought of what awaits you – but for now, you let your feet sink further into the sand, closing your eyes as you bask in the lingering warmth of the setting sun.

At least until the sound of your name being called draws you back to the present. Yet it’s not Iwaizumi approaching, but rather Makki, two strangers trailing along behind him. 

“Thought I’d find you here,” he grins, throwing a casual arm over your shoulders. “This is Kaneo,” he gestures to the man, “and his wife Manaka. They arrived this morning, I’ve been showing ‘em round.”

You turn to the couple, smiling sweetly as you extend a hand, “Welcome to the Commune.”

[sixth-light]

I've followed you for some time so I may be more familiar with you than some of the people who are reblogging your post now haha but I have to admit I also had to take a deep breath and reread the last bit to reassure myself that you weren't conflating 'legitimate distrust, skepticism, and anger towards western science systems' (especially, but not exclusively, archeology/anthropology) with anti-intellectualism. Im a researcher as well but it's really hard for me to say that all public distrust and dismissiveness towards the process of science is anti intellectualism and is a Big Problem when the scientific community has still done very little work to repair broken trust/earn respect. Much like the conversation about how deriding all vaccine hesitant people as 'anti-vaxxers' is counterproductive and doesn't acknowledge the role of the medical establishment in engendering legitimate distrust. maybe part of what you were trying to get at is that genuine cross-disciplinary work that doesn't privilege one knowledge system above others is part of doing that work? idk

Okay. First up: I agree with you entirely that the scientific community has big and legitimately earned trust gaps with many people, and also that just saying "why won't people just listen to us when we're right!" achieves precisely nothing to combat that.

But what I see in the popular 'lol scientists' post on this site is not an actual critique of exclusionary science. What I see is that it takes actual examples of interdisciplinary science, times when scientists are doing exactly what these people say they want, consulting with other experts, bringing together different forms of knowledge, and turns it into 'lol scientists are so dumb'. It's not actually encouraging genuine interchange or understanding. It's also eliding the actual complexities and difficulties of research and knowing - as many people have pointed out in the notes, a lot of the popular examples feature alternative hypotheses which are very cool and interesting but still hypotheses. It's really easy to have a cool hypothesis. It takes a lot more work to substantiate it.

Furthermore, I think it's important to remember that anti-intellectualism is not just about a response to the damage science has done. It is used deliberately to further the goals of powerful people. When we go 'lol scientists don't know anything about the real world', what does that do to the ongoing public debate about climate change and how to address it? About COVID-19 and how to end the pandemic? Who benefits? Everybody on here wants to eat the rich but it never fucking occurs to them that it benefits the rich for them to distrust scientists.

The thing is, science, like fandom, isn't special. It is not exempt from the bigotry that permeates our societies. It is done by people, who are often petty and close-minded and suspicious of things they don't know. Like the rest of society its problems are often systemic and if you want a list, I have a list. But when the tools of science are made available to everybody I genuinely do believe it provides us with, you know, some pretty fucking awesome stuff. The way we get more of that is by critiquing the specific problems, and celebrating the people who are doing it right.

Let's go back to climate change. Scientific research has told us how it's happening, and why it's happened, and the basic facts of how to stop it. But it can't tell us which choices to make about how we fix it: that requires knowledge from and of our communities. Do you move the town inland? Do you try and get people in electric cars, or on bikes, or some of each? What crops are growing here that couldn't before, and which are getting wilted by the heat? That requires people engaging with science and science engaging with people. And you do not get to engagement with 'lol this is just common sense'. You just don't.

also please (not you specifically anon, in general) read some fucking words by people who spend time thinking constructively about this stuff I beg you

[actualbird]

Marius be like "I'm the hottest out of all the nxx bitches" but are you the hottest in your family? Checkmate

KJBJDFBKJSD, ANON??? TODAY YOU CHOSE VIOLENCE AGAINST MARIUS VON HAGEN COMPLETELY UNPROVOKED, IM LOSING MY MIND!!!

i (predictably) want to analyze this for too many words than is strictly necessary tho so

// cn server spoilers, how marius' dad looks like

LET'S TAKE A VISUAL LOOK AT THE VON HAGEN FAMILY!!!

hey, quick question, why is this family so good looking? i know the answer, it's because of genes, but good LORD. gonna skip over marius because we all know hes hot but HEYYYY, AUSTIN VON HAGEN, ARE YOU LIKE....FREE THIS FRIDAY NIGHT? i jest of course but he looks great (sidenote: his sprite in game is actually shorter than marius, so the tall genes must have come from dead mom, rip, but man, i wanna see mrs. von hagen, tall waman, sign me UP). but like, looking at how attractive marius is due to how elegantly beautiful austin is, like, giann must look SO GOOD.

i already screamed about how i think giann would look like in this post so i'll move on to how the other nxx bitches, as youve dubbed them, react to how giann looks like!!!

vyn has reacted long ago, marius hasnt met vyn yet when vyn meets giann. vyn and giann founded the Giannovyn Research Center together (guys you have GOT to get better naming skills, u two rlly just put ur names together, it's ridiculous) so vyn knew giann!! and he probs found giann attractive but in a passing way since they were both working on setting up a mental health center together.

artem also got to meet giann at some point. since neil and giann were the original members of the nxx and neil was very very close with artem before he went missing, i figure neil introduced the two. i dont think artem found giann hot because artem only finds people hot once he's drunkenly expressed his deepest insecurities to them, or something.

LUKE AND MC HOWEVER....

okay luke and mc maybe passingly know what giann looks like since giann was like, a Huge figure in society. but they saw him through skimmed news articles or magazines here and there, they never really looked.

so when the day giann (and neil, no nxx bitch left behind!!) are safely found from wherever the fuck they went missing to, after the initial YAY UR BACK vibes, luke and mc are like

luke: your older brother is hot

mc: yeah hes very good looking

marius, covering his ears: I DONT WANT TO HEAR THIS ABOUT MY GODDAMN BROTHER, GUYS, WHAT THE HELL?????

but it's all very playful lol. after a few jokes about it, everybody moves on.

however

if marius is in a relationship (and choose whichever ship you fancy, mc, one of the nxx boys, full polycule, i support it all) and the other party/parties of the relationship express this joking appreciation of giann...

something very dark and afraid hisses in marius' heart

marius is the youngest child. when he was growing up, giann always called marius his "baby brother" which makes sense given that theyre 10 years apart but also. youngest child syndrome is fascinating. giann was the one who took on the business, he was one of the people who started the nxx, he was the one who did things big and meaningful and marius, ever since he was a kid, always felt as if he was in his older brother's shadow.

giann was never bad, of course. he always treated marius well, if a little bit protective and shithead-y (a von hagen trait i assume is consistent thru them all) way. he never did anything to make marius feel inferior. but marius couldnt help but feel that he wasnt good enough. that he'll always be a step behind giann and he'll never, ever be able to catch up

a joke about giann being better than marius in any way may trigger just a whole slew of insecurities for marius, if hes in a relationship. which is SO DUMB, he KNOWS OKAY. he trusts his partner/s and also giann is ENGAGED and so so whipped for his fiancee but feelings dont make sense 90% of the time. marius isnt jealous, hes just afraid that the people hes given his heart to will realize that

hes never been great. and he never will be.

marius tries to not let it show. he hides his fear under overdramatic annoyance, his own dumb jokes, his easy smirk and deflections.

but when youre in a relationship, whatever you feel will always be known somehow.

marius doesnt know what's worse: the fact he feels like this, the fact he thinks he doesnt have the right to want assurance for this, or the fact that

all of this makes him feel so young

he wonders, is he ever going to grow up?

[nervouscupcakeinspace]

BTS FIC RECS (PART 2)

Jeon Jungkook/Jung Hoseok | J-Hope

Don't Get Charmed by shikiso

When an injured omega is found on their territory, Jungkook's instincts scream danger. He is the pack's omega, they don't need another one. Jungkook is doing a good enough job by himself, protecting the den and soothing the tension off everybody's shoulders.

Why is the pack so adamant on keeping that useless omega in ?

They have Jungkook, they don't need Hoseok.

Why can't they even see his little game ? Hoseok definitely knows how to play the scared and helpless omega. But, if he manages to trick everybody, he can't trick Jungkook. He is immune to his sweet scent and sweeter eyes.

He won't fall into his trap.

Jeon Jungkook/Park Jimin

Omega Drip by sugamongoose

Park Jimin is the kind of alpha who makes you coffee and asks about your day before reducing his partner to a crying, writhing mess on his organic cotton sheets. He doesn't even seem to care one bit that Jungkook is a broken omega who doesn't get wet when he's supposed to.

“Are you busy right now, alpha?” Jungkook asks, holding his breath in anticipation. He can already visualise getting on his knees for the smaller man, can imagine those soft-looking hands petting his hair in approval when he shows just how good his mouth is.

Jeon Jungkook/Kim Namjoon | RM

Every Kind of Way by Oh_Hey_Tae

And then he realizes, quite belatedly, that he’s not supposed to be shaking the hand of the barista. Because that’s weird. And uncalled for. And really, really weird.

So Jungkook draws back his arm, grips the straps of his backpack, and promptly flees the building without a word spoken. Which is fine. Sometimes you have to get out of awkward social situations and blacklist particular cafés and adjust your route to school to avoid said café and the barista with the heart shaped face and his sweet pea scented hands. It happens.

“Jungkook-ah, meet Kim Namjoon.”

And sometimes during your bi-weekly dinner one of your good friends introduces you to said barista with the terribly soft hands who also happens to be getting his masters in social work to help underprivileged youth in inner city neighborhoods. Which is fine. This is fine. Jungkook is doing just fine.

 (Or: Jungkook adores everything about Namjoon except that the man can't catch a clue.)

Here Is What I Know by Oh_Hey_Tae

There are flowers growing on Namjoon’s arm. They aren’t real flowers, of course. That would be absurd. Impossible. Ridiculous. But Namjoon spends most of his lecture on Kant watching the garden of ink bloom on his skin, beginning at his pinkie and spreading across his wrist, trickling down to his elbow, curling up and around his bicep and out of sight under the sleeve of his shirt. Irises and peonies and roses and sunflowers. The girl who’s sitting beside him is staring, and when caught, gives Namjoon a bright-eyed grin before glancing back to the board. Namjoon spots a faded smiley face inked into the skin of her thumb, what looks to be a grocery list scrawled over the back of her hand. Notes or reminders from her soulmate maybe. Soulmates. Huh. It looks like Namjoon has one of those now.

try to resist, i still want it all by exarite

At first, Namjoon doesn’t think much of him.

He looks familiar, but he’s too far away for Namjoon to really see or scent out his dynamic. He’s cute, but Namjoon's not new to cute boys either. He's far too used to handsome, and pretty, and everything in between in the industry.

But then he stands up. Namjoon's eyes catch on the swell of his belly, and every nerve in his body lights up, his mind going blank, and—

Oh, he breathes. He's pregnant.

::

Namjoon fucks a pregnant Jungkook.

just let me adore you by elle_O_moonchild *

Rockstar omega Jungkook has never let an alpha tie him down. He was independent, and happy, and had no need for a domineering knothead to mess up his career and lifestyle.

But powerful and wealthy alpha Namjoon only wants to spoil the pretty omega rotten.

or

A smitten alpha Namjoon gets a weary omega Jungkook to go on a date with him and shows him just how good they can be together…

Jeon Jungkook/Kim Seokjin | Jin

more and more and more by moonsuns

"If you haven’t had sex by the time you’re twenty, then I’ll have sex with you. That way you’ll have a guaranteed end date for your virginity.”

“Do you promise, hyung?”

"I promise."

The problem was, Seokjin never expected to be called on it.

you shouldn't give it to me (good like that) by jamaisvore

opposites in the eyes of the media, but a perfect match in each other's arms.

or: supermodel!jk x rockstar!jin

Jung Hoseok | J-Hope/Kim Namjoon | RM

Pull Me Under by Oh_Hey_Tae

It’s been two weeks. Hoseok has managed to survive two weeks of Kim Namjoon’s progressively darkening thighs and his cheek craters and his swooshy hair and that stupid laugh he does that makes him sound like a bleating sheep.

Yoongi looks over his shoulder. Stares. Slowly draws his gaze back to Hoseok. “Are we discussing the same man who tried to brush his teeth with sunscreen yesterday?”

“Ew, he did that?”

“Your voice says that’s disgusting but your face says you’re enamored.”

Hoseok presses his palms against his eyes until he sees colored spots. “Make it stop, hyung.”

  (Or: Hoseok works at a summer resort and Namjoon is the newest lifeguard. Chaos ensues.)

fall underneath by crycoby

“Is this secretly about your huge crush on Namjoon?” Jimin asks, his fingers digging into the back of Hoseok’s neck in a way that is frankly criminal. “You know that if you like him, you’re going to have to be more direct. He doesn’t like to assume things about people and… He overthinks a lot,” he finally settles on diplomatically.

Hoseok groans, half because of the pressure and half because the idea of talking about this, about any of this, about any of the gnarled mess that is the clutch of Hoseok’s emotions in the knot of his chest, gives him hives.

//

hoseok could talk about his big messy feelings about namjoon, or he could talk around them instead and just hope for the best. yeah. that sounds good.

Methods of Mutual Stress Relief by Only_A_Fangirl

Hoseok cringes, “How weird would it be if I actually asked to jerk off in here with you?”

“Very,” Namjoon answers instantly.

Hoseok nods, “You can choose the porn.”

Namjoon blinks, “Are you for real?”

lyre lyre lyre by oliviacirce

Namjoo regrets every life choice that has led her here, to the hard wooden floor of this dance studio, where she's lying on her back like a beached whale.

Jung Hoseok | J-Hope/Kim Taehyung | V

the long and winding road by moonsuns

Hoseok is (basically) forced to go on vacation and leave his stressful idol life behind, at least for a little while. He wasn't expecting to find Taehyung, that's for sure. (He's glad he did, though.)

Kim Namjoon | RM/Kim Seokjin | Jin

Procurement by FlyYouFools1 (WIP) *

Seokjin and Namjoon have waited decades for a little of their own. Taehyung just wants to pay for his little brother's education.

Kim Namjoon | RM/Kim Taehyung | V

Dandelion Love (part of the (Not) Destined series) by almostsophie1

Taehyung is twenty-one when the word on his wrist turns ashen. The kind of love that soulmates share is forever out of reach.

(But enter one Kim Namjoon, who doesn't think the same.)

Kim Namjoon | RM/Min Yoongi | Suga

Bleeding Love by beebalm

Yoongi was already dressed and halfway to the door, nothing but a dry chuckle and a See you around when Namjoon asked for his number.

OR

It's not that Namjoon is hurt Yoongi only ever wanted him for a one night stand. And he doesn't have a crush. He just wishes they didn't have to keep seeing each other all the time.

Kim Namjoon | RM/Park Jimin

but i want it anyway by ameliabedelias *

Park Jimin’s roommate goes to study abroad for a semester. Kim Namjoon takes over the lease.

only lingering around you by moonsuns 

“I don't. I mean...this is going to sound awkward, but I’m...not really looking for a relationship right now.”

Namjoon considers, for a moment, elaborating and telling Jimin about everything with Hoseok, but there wouldn't be any point in that. And also, Namjoon is pretty sure that Jimin doesn't care about any of that anyway.

And he's right. At this, Jimin outright laughs. It isn’t a mean laugh, but Namjoon is pierced by the sound anyway. “Who said anything about a relationship, or even feelings? It’s just sex.”

Or, Namjoon and Jimin are friends with benefits.

Kim Seokjin | Jin/Min Yoongi | Suga

운명 (Fate) (part of the (Not) Destined series) by almostsophie1

Yoongi is part of that three percent population left without a soulmate word. It doesn't matter if he falls in love, because love isn't meant for people like him.

(Then he meets Seokjin.)

candy on my lips (part of the just desserts series) by moonbabie

Anonymous advice columnist and baby bi Kim Sujin meets queer club president Min Yoonji, and does the following: writes some cheesy advice columns, cuts her hair, and figures out her shit. (aka a queer romcom meets emotional constipation, self-discovery, and clueless wlw)

Min Yoongi | Suga/Park Jimin

pull me closer in the backseat of your rover by moonsuns

Jimin had just wanted to get off. He didn't think he'd end up with a boyfriend at the end of it all.

Or, another friends with benefits AU.

Nip & Bloom by sugamongoose (WIP) *

The year is 2021, and yet traditional and oppressive views of alpha/omega relations run rampant in the Korean society. Unmated Park Jimin is placed in a government programme which pairs delinquent omegas with support mates to make them more comfortable in their submission. Jimin’s alpha for six months turns out to be Min Yoongi, a tiny music producer who wears fuzzy sweaters, and who won’t stop talking about his kitten Holly.

“You look like an omega,” Jimin blurts out. The strange alpha flashes him a smile that reveals the pink of his gums. “Is that something you prefer? I saw your file, and it said you identify as queer.” “Oh, you looked at my file just to see if I like to fuck other omegas? Knot swelling yet?”

POLY RELATIONSHIPS

OT7 - Relationship

indiscentsible by cloudyworld *

Jungkook had been a little disappointed when, after all the build-up and speculation, he'd presented as a beta. Betas are great! They play an important role in society: level-headed, big-picture thinkers, the solid foundation that holds everyone together. But that pull of instinct that comes with being an alpha or omega, the feeling of belonging... He was crushed at the thought he might never get to have that.

In a pack with three alphas and three omegas already, presenting beta was a gift; Jungkook learns to see that too.

Precious Mettle by glitterandgilt (WIP) *

Jin loved his nest. He'd built it very carefully from the ground up. Spent centuries on selecting the individuals he wanted to spend the rest of his immortal life with. He was proud of his nest and protected it with a possessive love that rivaled a dragon's guard on their trove.

Jin didn't get the chance to go through that evaluation process with his newest treasure. But he would never let it go.

Or

When Jin's blood is stolen and used to sire a new fledgling, Jin has two choices: to ignore the strands of magic binding him to his new childe, or to lay claim to another jewel for his collection. He chooses the latter and drags his entire nest into a situation none of them were anticipating.

Kim's Seven by Gobi17 (WIP) *

Jungkook, 17 year old YouTuber, is in awe of the 6 hot boys who have adopted him online.

Bangtan are a dangerous group of vigilantes who seize the opportunity to kidnap the stepson of their latest target.

Found Kin by Adaptive_Artist (WIP)

Jungkook is starving. Food doesn't make anything better, and his teeth ache like someone is hammering on them. He thought he was cursed. Turns out he's a hatchling kin, and is now the precious baby of the renowned Kim nest. He's also growing little fangs.

Huh.

love bites (series) by feraljk (WIP) 

Summary from the first fic:

newly-turned vampire jungkook still has a lot to learn, but his hyungs are there to help him. taehyung enlists yoongi and jin to teach the fledgling how to teethe and helps him discover how much of a bonding activity teething can be.

or: trans koo and tae teeth on their hyungs and also come

Isn't it lovely? (all alone) by hopefully2020

At age eighteen, all citizens are given a concentration that will determine their fields of study. A small empty square on their wrist will gain a color corresponding to their skill set. Everyone’s fear is that their square color is black, meaning they are destined for a life of crime. When Jungkook turns eighteen, he waits anxiously for his square to gain color, only to be presented with a blank square. He is shunned by his family, having to struggle through high school while trying to figure out what to do for the rest of his life. Jungkook's life gets flipped upside down on the day of his twenty-first birthday when the store he works at is robbed with Jungkook at the cash register. Fearing for his life he believes he is going to die, only to be saved by a figure in black with a mask covering his face. To make things even worse, Jungkook suddenly becomes the target of one of the largest drug syndicates, solely because of his new connection to his savior and five other men who turn out to be the biggest crime lords in Seoul. What happens then, you ask? Well, then the blank world Jungkook always saw starts to drip with black, just a little bit.

blueberry peaches (a serendipitous summer) by elle_O_moonchild (WIP)

Jungkook spends a life changing summer working at a beachside car wash and meets 6 new lovers who change his heart and life forever.

Jeon Jungkook/Jung Hoseok | J-Hope/Kim Namjoon | RM 

Falling For an Alien From Amalthea 5 by Pyotr_Keats78 (WIP)

Jungkook has been in and out of the hospital for years with various medical problems. Eventually, his heart becomes so weak that no human medicine can save him. Believing he will die never having come out as trans to anyone, he gives up. That is until his brother Jimin tells him, “You have two choices, Jungah: you can stay here in this hospital and get high every day until your heart fails you, or you can go to Amalthea, grow a parasite, and live.”

Jeon Jungkook/Kim Taehyung | V/Park Jimin

Mentoring on Marsa by FlyYouFools1

Jungkook comes to the planet Marsa after being promised a full scholarship to Marsa National University. When the scholarship falls through, his academic advisor gives him the number for a mentoring service for newly stranded omegas on Marsa. With rent due, no way home, and no success in finding a job, Jungkook calls the number. The organization sends him Min Yoongi, a fellow omega who's been living on Marsa for 8 years. Yoongi teaches him how to survive. Jungkook's first attempt at survival is alpha couple Jimin and Taehyung.

Features: Yoongi doing his best to teach Jungkook how to manage handsy alphas, handsy alphas (like all of them are touchy) taking liberties with omega protagonists, and my best attempt at writing problematic but entertaining sex. A lot of fluff too, actually. The alphas are fluffy as hell with the omegas, and pamper them a lot, even though their actual behavior is wrong.

Jeon Jungkook/Kim Taehyung | V/Min Yoongi | Suga

November (series) by cuttothequickk 

Summary from the first fic: 

Sometimes, Jeongguk gets so lonely he doesn't even feel alone anymore. He's practicing, and he's very good at it. Loneliness. Being alone. It's blustery cold, and the leaves are falling from the branches of trembling trees, and Jeongguk is alone in a big city, shivering without a jacket, trying desperately to keep himself warm.

There is no one, and then there is someone. Two someones. The lovely winter boys from Daegu, Taehyung and Yoongi, opposites and equals, so loving and in love.

It would be ridiculous, really, if Jeongguk didn't fall for them, too.

Jung Hoseok | J-Hope/Kim Namjoon | RM/Min Yoongi | Suga

how, or when, or from where by moonsuns

“Stop calling it my quest,” Namjoon whines, and Hoseok laughs.

“You’re the one that said it first.”

“I was drunk.”

“Well, the bad thing about going out with people, is that you can’t take back the stupid shit you said when you were drunk. Especially when they’re way less drunk than you.”

Or, after Namjoon almost dies, he decides to go on a quest to live his best life, and takes Yoongi and Hoseok along for the ride.

(* Personal favorites)

MASTERPOST FIC RECS PART 1

[aroaceconfessions]

I cry every time I hear Dear Winter by ajr.

I'm a big crybaby, everybody forgets this because I don't like romantic movies and your typical tragedy stories don't touch me, but the right content turns me into a waterfall in the blink of an eye. I find it fun to tell everybody the stuff that makes me cry, specially cause they think it's super dramatic but then my explanation is either very goofy or super meta. The reason for this one, though, I'm not brave to share with my irls.

I want to have kids.

I had 3 big dreams when I was small: be a scientist, work in security and marry. Now, I'm not really the smartest person around, it's OK, there's nothing wrong with not being smart, some of us aren't. I can convince most people that I am, but I'm not good enough to be doing serious researches and such. I'm also weak, like can't carry 4kg weak, and underweight, as in can't donate blood underweight, and also, cops ain't shit and USA have way too much power on the worldwide security and intelligence organizations, I can't be part of that happily. And last, I'm aroace. Strictly so. It's not happening. I don't want to marry, I wanted a wedding and a marriage, not to be married. I wanted the big cake, the fancy clothes and the excuse for the coolest needlessly expensive party. I wanted a partner to stand by my side, to be close and intimate, to share my life and to help me raise our kids. That's what I wanted, not to meet and love someone and give up much of me to make space for him in my soul so we can become one.

I can't do none of this.

It's gonna be hard to maintain myself, money wise, by myself in a society made for two and I don't want my kids to go through any hardships, I want to give them a great life. It's also gonna be hard to get the state permission to adopt, the priority is to couples, has always been, will always be.

And so the song says “I really doesn't seem like there's anyone for me, but dear Winter, I hope you like your name. Im hoping that some day I can meet you on this earth. But shit, I gotta meet your mom first” it hits so hard. I have so many names and ideas and daydreams, I've considered everything, every option, I watch a movie and I think about how I would've helped this or that character as a parent, I look at my own parents actions and think "oh, I would do this too" or "I would never do this" and it's always like this.

I'm not going to have a biological kid, I'm in my 20s and despite having wished to have kids for all of my life it was never biologically, sinc ei was very young I knew I wanted to adopt. But I feel awful with the idea that I would be taking a kid's chance of having a happy family. I would love them so dearly, I know I would, but I also grew up with both my parents, surrounded by kids of a single parent household who would every now and then tell me how jealous they were of me and how lucky I am. I can't do that to a kid, can't be that fucking selfish. I'm not a bad person.

It's a fraction of my third dream, I gotta give up like I did with the rest, gotta be realistic. It's just that I can't get myself to close it. To give this last piece of my childhood wishes away to time. Sending this here is how I'm doing it. I'm putting myself out here so I can't go back. It can't see it happening, no matter how real and sweet and happy it looks in my fantasies, hoping for it is just hurting me. I'm saying bye bye to this last little one.