#while less privileged people are more likely to block

[mesetacadre]

Palace of the Republic, Berlin

The right to work at a job of one’s own choice was guaranteed by the East German constitution (Aus erster Hand, 1987). While there were some (mostly alcoholics) who continuously refused to show up for jobs offered by the state, their numbers represented only about 0.2% of the entire East German work force, and only 0.1% of the scheduled work hours of the rest of the labor force was lost due to unexcused absences (Krakat, 1996). These findings are especially noteworthy, given that people were generally protected from being fired (or otherwise penalized) for failing to show up for work or for not working productively (Thuet, 1985). The importance of the communist characteristic of full employment to workers is reflected in a 1999 survey of eastern Germans that indicated about 70% of them felt they had meaningfully less job security in the unified capitalist country in the 1990s than they did in communist East Germany (Kramm, 1999)

The Triumph of Evil, A. Murphy (2002)

The GDR had more theatres per capita than any other country in the world and in no other country were there more orchestras in relation to population size or territory. With 90 professional orchestras, GDR citizens had three times more opportunity of accessing live music, than those in the FRG, 7.5 times more than in the USA and 30 times more than in the UK. It also had one of the world’s highest book publishing figures. This small country with its very limited economic resources, even in the fifties was spending double the amount on cultural activities as the FRG. Every town of 30,000 or more inhabitants in the GDR had its theatre and cinema as well as other cultural venues. [...] Subsidised tickets to the theatre and concerts were always priced so that everyone could afford to go. Many factories and institutions had regular block-bookings for their workers which were avidly taken up. School pupils from the age of 14 were also encouraged to go to the theatre once a month and schools were able to obtain subsidised tickets. [...] All towns and even many villages had their own ‘Houses of Culture’, owned by the local communities and open for all to use. These were places that offered performance venues, workshop space and facilities for celebratory gatherings, discos, drama groups etc. There was a lively culture of local music and folk-song groups, as well as classical musical performance.

Stasi State or Socialist Paradise? The German Democratic Republic and What Became of It, Bruni de la Motte and John Green (2015)

Work itself was elevated to a place of pride and esteem and, even if you were in a lower paid job, you were valued for the work you did as a necessary contribution to the functioning of society. The socialist countries were also designated ‘workers’ states and it was not merely an empty phrase when the GDR government argued that the workers, who produced the commodities that society needed, should be placed at the forefront of society. Those who did heavy manual work, like miners or steel workers, enjoyed certain privileges: better wages and health care than those in less strenuous or dangerous professions. The GDR had one of the most comprehensive workers’ rights legislation of any other country in the world. From 1950 onwards, there was a guaranteed right to work. This right applied to everybody, including disabled people and those with criminal records. Employers were made responsible for the training and integration of everyone. This meant that everybody felt they had a place in society and were needed. This was particularly important for disabled people and those who wanted a new start in life after being convicted of a crime. Working people were under a much more relaxed discipline in the workplace. Because there was job security and it was almost impossible to be sacked, an authoritarian discipline was difficult, if not impossible, to achieve. In Western countries work discipline is invariably enforced by the implicit threat of job loss. In the GDR, only in cases of serious misconduct or incompetence would employees be sacked. There were individual cases where employees were sacked illegally for what was considered ‘oppositional’ or ‘anti-state behaviour’, but usually the sanction would involve demotion or being transferred to a different workplace. This job security gave employees a sense of confidence and a considerable power in the workplace. It meant that workers could and would voice criticism over inefficiencies or bad management without having to fear for their job. Job security and lack of fear about losing it was probably one of the greatest advantages the socialist system offered working people. Even in cases where a worker was sacked from one job, other alternative work would be offered, even if not on the same level. The other side of the coin was that there was also a social obligation to work - the GDR had no system of unemployment benefit, because the concept of unemployment did not exist.

Stasi State or Socialist Paradise? The German Democratic Republic and What Became of It, Bruni de la Motte and John Green (2015)

[yandere-daydreams]

Title: Insecure.

Written for a very lovely anonymous commissioner.

Pairing: Yandere!Toxic!Wanderer x Reader (Genshin).

Word Count: 5.0k.

TW: Modern AU, AFAB!Reader, Non///Con, Public Sex, Oral Sex, Possessive Behavior, Wildly Unhealthy Relationships, Unbalanced Power Dynamics, Intimidation, and Self-Oriented Victim Blaming From Reader. Dead Dove: Do Not Eat. No Seriously Dude Those Doves Are So Dead.

[Part One]

“This is boring.”

“Uh-huh.”

“It’s too hot to be outside. And this place reeks.”

“You’re wearing long sleeves in the middle of summer, and it’s a college campus. I don’t know what you expected.”

“You look hot.”

You let out a disgruntled groan, leaning back in your seat and bringing a hand up to your temple. Kunikuzushi seemed to drink in your agitation, crossing his arms, the corners of his lips pulling up into a smug grin. “How did you even know I was here?”

His answer was immediate, non-verbal. He held up his phone, the screen blatantly and proudlydisplaying a simple grid-map and, of course, a little blue dot settled into the grey backdrop. You felt something start to ache in the back of your skull. “You’re tracking my phone?”

“Yeah, right, your phone.”

You started to buckle into yourself, but stopped yourself. You were in public – tucked into the smallest corner of your campus’ most out-of-the-way common area, sure, but still in public. There was a group of students gathered around one of the bigger tables less than ten feet away, and another couple just behind them. You used to fight with Kunikuzushi so often. You’d never resorted to public screaming matches, but you’d never had to think twice before storming out of bars and cafes, never thought twice about blocking his number or throwing away his flowers or telling anyone who’d listen that you were absolutely, definitely, totally going to break up with him for good, this time. Now, you couldn’t find it into yourself to be so brash. You couldn’t stand the idea of being seen with him, let alone calling more attention to yourself. It felt like you were one slip-up, one arm draped around your waist, one ring of bruises wrapped around your neck before someone saw through you, guessed what kind of person Kunikuzushi was and confronted you about why you’d stay with someone like that. You were afraid of him, sure, but you were more afraid of what would happen if people realized just how scared you really ought to be.

Not that you wanted to be with him. You wanted to move across the country, to burn your clothes and cut your hair, to change your name and pretend he’d never so much as lookedat you, but your options were limited. He’d taken care of your internship the day you’d moved in with him, and he bought you out of your lease within the same week. The few friends you still had after Kunikuzushi sunk his teeth into your social life were pushed to a distance, and the thought of running back to the same people who’d told you to stay as far from Kunikuzushi as you could get was enough to make you feel dizzy and exhausted, light-headed and glued to the floor all at once.

Even that, the idea that you could go to someone for help, was delusional. He barely let you go to class, and even that was a tedious connection, a privilege that could be revoked with a phone call and a new deadbolt on the door to his apartment. He didn’t like it when you had things to think about that didn’t revolve around him, and while keeping him happy was in the best interest of your safety, dropping out wasn’t an option. You could find another place to live. You could find another internship. But, if flunked out, if you failed too many classes, you’d lose your scholarship. If you lost your scholarship, you wouldn’t be able to graduate. If you didn’t graduate…

You had to graduate. You had to.

You weren’t sure you’d ever be able to get away from Kunikuzushi, if you didn’t.

You heard a scoff, felt the table shake as Kunikuzushi drove his heel into one of its legs. “Y’know, it’s rude to ignore people. ‘specially after I came all this way just to spend time with you.”

You must’ve zoned out. You hadn’t meant to, you never wanted to give Kunikuzushi an excuse to shorten your leash even further, but it’d been happening more and more. On your best days, you could keep yourself grounded, stay in your own body long enough to make it seem like you were managing what has left of your life. On your worst days… well, you didn’t remember much of your worst days. You usually couldn’t bring yourself to get out of bed. Kunikuzushi loved your worst days. “Sorry,” you mumbled, more out of reflex than any genuine remorse. “Why are you here, anyway?”

“Like I said, I wanted to spend time with you.” He shrugged, still grinning. “You should drop out.”

Just like that, your heart dropped into your stomach. If you hadn’t been in public, if you weren’t so disconnected from what went on in your own mind, you might’ve cried.

Instead, you bowed your head. Your voice was quieter than you wanted it to be, but it was a small miracle you could force yourself to speak at all. “I… don’t think that’s a good idea.”

“Since when do you think for yourself?” He wasn’t fazed. The question was accompanied by a slow, breathy laugh, a flash of teeth as he leaned forward, propping his head on his fist. “I mean, c’mon, it’s not like you’d actually use a degree. I’m already taking care of you.” He dropped lower, taking on a raspy lilt. “All you’ve gotta worry about is keeping me company and taking my—”

You cut him off with an indignant huff, already recoiling. You moved to stand, to get away from him, but felt a pair of hands cover your eyes before you could. There was a familiar laugh, the feeling of curly hair bruising against your cheek, and then a melodic voice playing just beside your ear. “Guess who.”

For the first time that day, you couldn’t help but smile. “I know it’s you, Ajax. You’re the only person lame enough for this.”

There was a hum before he let you go, bracing himself on the back of your chair and leaning over you. He was dressed like he always was – which was to say, like it was the middle of winter, his coat long enough to reach his ankles and thick enough to make you shudder with sympathy pains, your agony unaided by the scarf wrapped loosely around his neck. Maybe you shoulddrop out, or transfer, at least. Between him and Kunikuzushi, you were starting to think there was something in the air that made people want to get heatstroke. “Hey, I’m just trying to surprise my favorite study-buddy. You looked like you could use a little cheering up.” He glanced toward Kunikuzushi, then flashed you a knowing grin. “I know this guy tends to bring down the mood.”

Kunikuzushi sunk into his seat, his smugness immediately overshadowed by agitation. “Oh, you know each other?”

“We’re coworkers,” Kunikuzushi answered, glaring daggers toward Ajax.

“Wait, you have a job?”

He didn’t indulge you with a response, only scoffing and throwing his head to the side. Ajax took up the mantle. “Honestly, I’m more surprised to see him hanging out with someone outside of work. Always struck me as the ‘lone wolf’ type, if you know what I mean. If I knew you two were friends, I would’ve made more of an effort to drag him to our—"

As he spoke, his hand came to rest on your shoulder, but he’d barely touched you when Kunikuzushi pushed himself to his feet, already snarling. “Keep your fucking hands to yourself.” Reflexively, Ajax pulled back, holding his hands up defensively, and with a ragged breath and a half-hearted effort to calm himself down, Kunikuzushi went on. “Didn’t anyone ever teach you not to touch someone’s fiancé, idiot?”

This time, Ajax’s laugh was slightly more strained, his posture slightly more stiff. “Yeah, uh, right. My bad, dude.” He moved to ruffle your hair (his most common send-off, no matter how often you groaned and complained that you’d look like a mess for the rest of the day), but stopped himself quickly – rubbing the back of his neck. “I… didn’t realize you were engaged.” Despite his stiffness, he managed to offer you a small smile. “See you in class?”

“Save me a seat.” And then, letting your eyes fall to your feet, “Sorry about him, he’s…”

“Territorial, I get it. I’d be a little jealous too, if I managed to get a ring on your finger.”

He winked, and before you could roll your eyes, he’d turned on his heel and disappeared around the nearest corner, melting into the throng of milling students. Once he was gone, you turned back to Kunikuzushi, still seething. That was one of the worst things about being with Kunikuzushi. It wasn’t enough to make your life miserable, he had to make sure you didn’t have anything left to live for. “Why would you tell him we’re engaged?”

“I’ll get you a ring.” You opened your mouth, but he was talking before you had a chance to cut in. “This is why you shouldn’t bother with this shit. All you’re going to do is waste your time and get hit on by desperate losers trying to get their dicks wet.”

“As opposed to staying home with you, where I can get hit on by one desperate loser trying to get his dick wet.” You shook your head, but shut your mouth and stood up before he could pull you into a real argument. Throwing your bag over your shoulder, you turned away from him, starting in the direction of your lecture hall. “I have to get to class. We can talk about this later.”

Before he could protest, you made your way out of the common area. There was a beat of silence, a brief moment of respite. Then, you heard his footsteps pick-up behind you, settling into pace with your own. You glanced over your shoulder and, predictably, found Kunikuzushi walking behind you. “What do you want now?”

“You’re going to class,” he said, a smug grin already tugging at the corners of his lips. “I’m coming with you.”

You frowned. “It’s a general credit. You’ll be bored out of your mind.”

“I don’t care.” He took your hand in his, squeezing gently when you tried to pull away. Immediately, you stopped resisting, hyper-aware of the way his blunt nails scraped against your skin, of how intensely his eyes burnt into yours. “Is it a crime to want to spend as much as time as I can with my fiancé?”

You shuddered involuntarily. You couldn’t tell if jealously staking his claim to you during a minute-long conversation with your classmate and his coworker was genuinely his idea of a proposal, or if he just took joy in the way you flinched every time he threw that word around. Either way, you didn’t like it.

“Fine, whatever.” You shrugged open the door to one of the more rustic buildings on campus, dragging Kunikuzushi along with you. “Just don’t cause a scene, okay? I’m really not in the mood.”

He only smiled, letting his head lull to the side. You forced yourself to tear your eyes away from him, focusing on the crowded hallway in front of you instead. Your class was in one of the larger lecture halls on campus – stadium style, oppressively beige, the rows of desks curved around the raised stage at the front of the room. It was already mostly full, too, thanks to how long Kunikuzushi had held you up. You made a brief effort to find Ajax before deciding you didn’t want anyone you knew by name to see you latched onto your moody boyfriend and moved toward one of the middle rows, but he stopped you, digging his heels into the floor. “Sit in the front.” You sent him a look that said ‘what the fuck do you want now?’, and he grinned. “What? I’m trying to do you a favor.”

“You can do me a favor by letting me get through this with minimal psychic damage.” You dragged him to the back of the hall and slid into a relatively empty row, trying to stay as far away from the other students as you could. In spite of his stubbornness, his preference to control everything down to how often you blinked, he didn’t fight it, just slipping into the seat next to you, leaning back and watching on as you pulled out a half-mangled notebook and a couple pens. You knew you wouldn’t be able to focus, much less take notes with Kunikuzushi hovering over your shoulder, but you wanted to at least pretend you didn’t care about him and his leering for the next two hours. It wasn’t like he’d leave you alone once you got back into the confines of his stifling, barren apartment, so you had to take advantage of what little peace you’d be able to get, today.

By the time your class started, he was fully reclined, his arms crossed and his expression slack in boredom. The rows hadn’t been crammed as closely together as possible, he might’ve propped his feet on the desktop, shut his eyes, done everything he could to show just how disinterested he was in the lecture he’d demanded to sit through.

By the ten-minute mark, he’d pulled his chair next to yours, watching over your shoulder as you jotted down what little of the professor’s lecture you could hear over the sound of your race heart. You didn’t like it when Kunikuzushi got so close to you, anymore. It was hard to remember why you ever had.

Twenty minutes in, you felt his hand ghost over your leg, his fingertips grazing past your thigh. You tried to brush it off, to ignore him, but his hand settled onto your knee and you snapped up to glare at him. “What are you—”

He shushed you, leaning against your side. “Keep your voice down. We’re in class, remember?”

You frowned, but relented, turning your attention back to the front of the classroom. You resigned yourself to pointedly ignoring him, jotting down incoherent notes and attempting to drown out Kunikuzushi’s looming presence with the professor’s droning lecture. You’d almost blocked him out by the time he started moving, again, kneading the plush of your thigh gently, his dull nails burrowing into your skin just a little too deeply to ignore. Determined, you didn’t react, but that didn’t faze him. His hand only crept higher, catching the hem of your shorts and toying with the thin fabric, forcing you to acknowledge just how little you’d done to fend him off. If you’d known he was going to visit you on campus, you would’ve worn jeans, or made more of an effort to avoid him. If you’d known he was going follow you into class just to harass you, you would never have gotten up in the first place.

You jumped as his fingers slipped under the fabric, fanning out against your skin. With an airy sigh, you leaned back, already swatting away his hand. You spoke under your breath, trying to hide the way your voice shook. “Fine. If you’re going to be a brat about it, we can go home.”

“And ruin your attendance?” His tone was pleading, muted but dripping with something thick and saccharine. “I can’t let you do that, baby, not when your grades are so importantto you.”

You tried to get up, but he drew back, throwing an arm over your shoulders and pulling you back into your seat. “I tried to take you home, but no, you decided that sitting in a dusty room with that fucking redhead was more important to you than me.” He hauled you closer, holding his mouth next to your ear. “If you decide to go home now and waste more of my time, I promise, you’ll be in for something much worse than anything I can do to you here.”

For the second time that day, you froze, suddenly unable to move. Kunikuzushi took your silence as submission, kissing your cheek before his hand fell back to your thigh.

This time, he was kind enough (or cruel enough) not to play coy, not to try to hide what he was going to do. He squeezed your thigh with enough force to bruise before delving into the space between your legs – his middle finger tracing over the seam that ran over the length of your cunt, only pausing to rub circles into your clit through the material. You really, really should’ve worn something else, something thicker, something that would’ve put you at a distance from his invasive touch. You would’ve given anything not to feel that slow, painful friction, not to recognize the aching curl of arousal starting to form in the pit of your stomach. Kunikuzushi was an asshole – a possessive, controlling asshole – but he knew you. He knew your weak points. He’d held you down and exploited them until you knew that as well as he did.

With two fingers, he pressed into your clit, and you jolted into yourself. Reflexivity, you tried to clench your thighs shut, but Kunikuzushi caught you by the knee and spread your legs farther, making more room for him to work between them. “Play nice.” He was whispering, but you wished he wouldn’t talk at all. You wished he’d keep his mouth shut and let you suffer in silence. “You don’t want to make this into a show, do you?”

You didn’t. God, you didn’t. You couldn’t imagine anything worse than getting caught, than having someone notice and scream and draw attention to what Kunikuzushi was doing to you. In the best case scenario, he’d stop and you’d have plausible deniability, pretend that you believed you could say your overly affectionate boyfriend was just being touchy and someone would buy it. In the worst case scenario, in the most likely scenario, he wouldn’t, and you didn’t know how you be able to live with yourself if someone saw you like this. Would you have to appear in front of the dean to apologize that your boyfriend had fingered you in front of a captive audience? Would there be paperwork? Would any of the blame fall on Kunikuzushi, or would you be the one held responsible for what he couldn’t stop doing to you?

You shook your head frantically, clenching your eyes shut and balling your hands into fists. Kunikuzushi clicked his tongue, cooing in mock-disappointment. “That’s just mean, baby. First you don’t want to admit we’re in love, now you don’t even want to be seen with me. Next, you’ll want to forget I exist altogether.” He flicked his wrist, and you dug your teeth into the inside of your cheek. “And you remember how well it went for you last time you tried to ditch me, right?”

It was a labored effort, jerky and jolting, but you forced yourself to inhale, to straighten your back, to curl your hands around the corner of the desktop and make a passing effort to ground yourself, but Kunikuzushi wouldn’t let you have your peace for very long. You let out a small sigh as he pulled back, but your relief was short-lived – ripped away from you the moment his fingers found your waistband, slipping into your shorts before you could so much as delusionally hope he'd show you mercy. There was a breathy laugh, two fingers pressed into your clit. “Christ, you’re soaked,” he muttered, his delight audible. “I still can’t believe I turned you into such a fucking slut.”

You tried to shrink into yourself, to cross your arms over the desktop and hide your face, but Kunikuzushi caught you, keeping you upright and leaving you to bury your face in his shoulder. The desk would’ve been more soothing. He was moving too quickly, his arm shifting uncomfortably against your chest as he rubbed tight circles into the sensitive bundle of nerves, as he fell lower – his ring and middle fingers dipping into your drenched pussy in quick, shallow thrusts that only seemed to make you more aware of the slick starting to drip down the inside of your thighs. Your professor was still talking, but the lecture was incomprehensible, drowned out by the wet squelching of Kunikuzushi’s digits thrusting into you, somehow barely audible and skull-crushing deafening all at once. No one else could hear it. It just wasn’t an option; it wasn’t a possibility. You couldn’t let yourself start to think about what would happen if someone else heard it.  

He was merciless, grinding the heel of his palm into your clit as his slender fingers pumped into you. He didn’t pause, didn’t experiment, just held himself to the same monotonous, uniform thrusts, punishing you with a brutal pleasure you just couldn’t seem to escape. His fingertips scraped against something soft and needy inside of you and reflexively, your hands shot to his arm, your nails burrowing into his sleeves and biting into his skin. If he felt it, he didn’t seem hurt. Kunikuzushi only laughed, resting his head against yours and falling into a brutal, unfaltering tempo.

Distantly, you heard paper sliding against wood, pages turning, then a low whistle. “Why didn’t you tell me you could draw?” If you’d been able to think, you might’ve been angry. If you’d been able to do anything, you might’ve pulled your notebook away from him and made sure he couldn’t taint any part of you he hadn’t already ruined, but you couldn’t so much as imagine opening your eyes, much less trying to get away from him, again. “It’s cute. If you’re good, I’ll get you a real sketchbook – better than this cheap shit.”

It shouldn’t have felt as patronizing as it was. It shouldn’t have stung, just to know he was looking at something you’d never thought to keep away from him. It shouldn’t have hurt any more than anything he was already doing to you, and yet, you shrunk into yourself, something in your chest withering and dying off as he continued to flip through your notebook, to split you open on his fingers. A third digit was added, his touch now deep enough for you to feel the chill of his rings against your entrance. There was a pang of tension, a slight pain to accompany the stretch, but the buzzing in the back of your mind, the knot pulling tighter and tighter as he pulled his way deeper into you. You curled around him, something hot and piercing rising up from your core, creeping into your veins until—

Until Kunikuzushi pulled away without warning, only pausing momentarily to drag his hand over your thigh and smear your own slick across your skin. If you hadn’t known him so well, if you hadn’t been with him so long, relief might’ve softened your confusion, but you weren’t naïve enough to think that he’d suddenly found a pocket of kindness in his cold, stony heart. He didn’t try to tease you, either, to string you along and make you think that he’d let you go with an anti-climax and a few probing comments. He was cruel, but he didn’t like to waste his time. He didn’t have to pretend he didn’t want to play with his favorite toy.

With a small smile and a darkglint in his eye, he took your notebook and achinglyslowly, slid it off of the desk and watched passively as it toppled to the floor. Seconds after it landed, he sighed, shaking his head before pressing a fleeting kiss into the corner of your mouth. “You’re so clumsy, babe. I just don’t know what you’d do without me.”

Realization dawned on you like blood rising into the back of your throat. You hugged his arm closer to your chest, hoping beyond hope that he’d see your distress and for once, hold himself back from taking what he wanted. “Kuni, please don’t do—”

“Save it.” He didn’t even hesitate, tearing his arm out of your vice-grip without so much as a trace of strain. “You can thank me when we get home.”

You didn’t get another chance to protest before he dipped down, slipping out of his seat and below the desk. You spared a glance in either direction. You were in an aisle seat. Your row was mostly empty, and you could only hope that the people sitting behind you couldn’t see Kunikuzushi between your legs, his mouth already pressed into the inside of your thigh. Without someone to hold onto, you were left to cross your arms over your chest and try to school your own expression, to look like you hadn’t just had your orgasm torn away from you, like your ex-turned-overly-attached boyfriend wasn’t on his knees with his face buried between your legs. It was a small comfort, knowing he couldn’t do anything worse than this, not unless he wanted to bend you over the teacher’s desk and fuck you with an audience.

It was terrifying, knowing he couldn’t possibly do anything worse than this.

Your breath hitched as you felt his fingers curl underneath your shorts, dragging the flimsy material down your legs and letting it pool around your ankles. You were wearing an oversized shirt, and your jacket was long enough to obscure everything above your mid-thigh, but you still shuddered, still had to fight the temptation to snap your thighs shut as soon as you felt the cool air against your slick cunt. Kunikuzushi was quick to block that out, too. You felt the flat of his tongue lap over your entrance, a soundless moan reverberating against your pussy and up the length of your spine. This time, when you bit down on the inside of your cheek, you didn’t stop until you tasted blood.

Now, now, he decided to draw out your agony. You could feel his searing breath against your pussy as he chewed bruises into your thighs, painting love bites across your vulnerable skin that you could only hope wouldn’t be visible when you were finally able to shamble out of this lecture hall as a mangled, fucked-out wreck. When your legs twitched, his hands found their way to your ankles, pinning your feet to the ground as he latched onto your clit, dragging his tongue in loose, careless patterns as he sucked gently – giving you enough stimulation to leave you irritated and antsy but still withholding any anything real, anything satisfying. If you’d been in his bed, or on his kitchen counter, or laid across the backseat of the car he barely knew how to drive, you could’ve hidden your face in his sheets or clawed at his shoulders or screamed bloody murderer while he sucked and licked himself into a pussy-drunk stupor. You were never overly vocal – you couldn’t be, when you knew Kunikuzushi would take and abuse anything you said under the influence of his harsh affection– but now, you couldn’t afford to so much as tear-up, to rake your fingers through his hair, to whimper as his tongue thrust into you, just as awful as his fingers and twice as hot. You made the mistake of glancing towards him, of letting him catch your eye as a wide, arrogant smirk spread across his parted lips, a dark flush now painted across his pale cheeks. You looked away as quickly as you could, but it didn’t matter. His hands came up to your knees as he dragged your legs apart, giving himself more space to work between them. That had to be the worst thing about Kunikuzushi. No matter what you did, no matter how little you gave him, he’d always find a way to get off on it, to convince himself it was just your little way of retuning his fucked-up love.

Desperate for something to latch onto, you crossed your arms over the desktop and clawed at the polished wood. The bridge of Kunikuzushi’s nose ground against your clit and you buckled into yourself, burying your face in your arms and forgetting for just a fraction of a second to care whether or not you’d ever be able to show your face in public again. It took long, agonizing seconds to find the strength to raise your head, to frantically glance around the lecture hall for something, anything that would help you block out what he was doing to your body. Rather than a saving grace, you found a head of bright, ginger hair a few rows in front of you, the chair next to its owner vacant. Ajax, already staring over his shoulder, his piercing eyes wide and his expression blank with horror. As your gaze met his, as Kunikuzushi let out another throaty moan, the pressure mounted, that string of tension in your core snapping before you could attempt to hold yourself together. With your teeth grit and tears streaming down your cheeks, you came undone on Kunikuzushi’s tongue, a breathless whine forcing its way out of your throat as you collapsed back into your arms, completely limp.

Kunikuzushi nursed you through it, taking long moments to untangle himself from you, to press another kiss against your thigh, to pull your shorts back into place. You didn’t care. You were numb, your body humming with an awful sort of static, only interrupted by the weight of Kunikuzushi’s hand against the small of your back as he hauled himself back into his seat, pulling his sleeve across his mouth. Your notebook was still at your feet, splayed open and abandoned. You couldn’t seem to bring yourself to pick it up.

There was a kiss to your shoulder, then the top of your head. “Is it time to get out of here?”

You forced yourself to nod. You felt his arms wrap around you, one stringing under your knees and the other bracing against your back, keeping you pressed into his chest as he side-stepped back into the aisle and started for the door. A few students turned their heads, a couple stopping to ask if you were alright, but Kunikuzushi ignored them. Whatever. It wasn’t like you’d ever see any of these people again.

Kunikuzushi was taking you home, and as far as he seemed concerned, you’d never be leaving again.

[pillarsalt]

hi um

I was? transmasc but recently I’ve been seeing a lot of really misogynistic sexist transphobic stuff from trans community and it’s just been totally accepted, even by other transmascs. It’s been going on for a while but recently there was a murder of a nonbinary afab person and yet the whole trans community here has been silent, instead screaming about a transfem user being banned or something? This isn’t the first time an afab trans persons suffering has been dismissed, but now right after this awful death, i see transfems making posts about how transmascs talking about their oppression are terfs.

I didn’t want to think about it but all i could think about was that it was weird how despite everyone claiming trans men have all this privilege, trans women always come first…they get the most representation, they get the fame the admiration and the opportunities, their voices are always the loudest and their problems always always come first no matter what.

But despite popular belief trans men’s issues aren’t actually less significant, in some cases we suffer far more than trans women especially in regard to sexual violence. Yet we are silenced. We are frequently left poor, we are discriminated against for our sex we are discriminated against for being trans we are discriminated against for being perceived as lesbians. Yet we are made to be silent?

Why are our voices less important than trans women’s?

And all I could think about was that this is how females are treated in every other area.

I don’t know what else to say… I tried so hard not to reach that conclusion because I don’t want to be transmysogynist but I kept coming back to it and I couldn’t find an argument against it. This is how females are treated. This is what male privilege look like. And if trans women have male privilege, then why the fuck am I sitting here letting them talk over me?

I just feel really really angry. Your a blog who I liked your art but I blocked you when I discovered you were a radfem, but I sort of had you in the back of my mind for some reason and now I feel lost and confused, and I don’t think I want to be part of the trans community anymore.

Hey anon, firstly I really appreciate your willingness to have an open discussion with me. This must be weighing on you pretty heavily.

Secondly, holy shit, you're right. While the entire website is treating this user's ban as a national travesty, I haven't seen a single person talking about Nex's murder despite how much they claim to care about trans people. That's really fucking low, and this situation does very much encapsulate the state of misogyny within the trans community.

And you're right, this IS how females are treated in every other area. Throughout history, the suffering and injustice women face is minimized, laughed at, ignored, and when we want to talk about it, we're shut down and told we're making people uncomfortable and our pain isn't that bad. And here we are again, with a female person's death outweighed by a male person's inconvenience.

The denial of sex-based oppression that permeates trans spaces is a blatant lie that can only be held together if nobody is allowed to acknowledge it, and those who do are punished. If the trans community truly stood behind what they say, discussion would be encouraged! The foundation of their movement would be backed up with facts and replicable science! But instead, they'll call you a bigot for pointing out systems of oppression you can see with your own eyes. Because if you do, transwomen's position as Most Oppressed, and therefore the final authority on what's right and wrong, collapses. You are correct when you say that it seems like transwomen always come first; I don't remember who said it first, but just look at magazine covers featuring trans people -- the transwomen are fully clothed CEOs, athletes, movie stars, but transmen mostly get on magazine covers for... being pregnant and half naked. Misogyny is built into every society on earth, and individuals simply calling themselves something else doesn't change that. And when you give male people free reign to be as misogynistic as they want without consequence, they'll grab that opportunity and hold on like their lives depend on it. The way they weaponize transmen's sex against them is indistinguishable from what 'cis' men do to 'cis' women, but if you ever speak out about it, somehow YOU'RE the one hurting THEM. They do not want transmascs to find solidarity with other female people, because then they would have to face the reality of their own place in a patriarchal world, and face the fact that there are experiences exclusive to female people and that we have the right to speak about it. I mean you see shit like this and the motives become completely transparent:

I do find it funny how hard the trans community and their allies work to prevent anyone from hearing what radfems have to say in case they "corrupt" you with mere words. A lot of the time, it's simply listening to transwomen themselves that sparks the feeling of "something's not right here" in your brain. That's what happened with me too. I'll tell you that most of us also used to be proponents of trans activism, many formerly identifying as trans too. You are seeing through manipulation, and I know it's quite shocking to realize. Even when I first started having doubts about trans rhetoric, I thought "well everyone else agrees about this, so I need to shut up and be nice about it even if I don't agree." It's an unpleasant place to be in. The cognitive dissonance is exhausting though, and it becomes impossible to ignore.

The mistreatment of transmasc people in the trans community by transfems is brutal, and It's hard to watch from the outside because I just want to say "Hey, you know you don't have to take this shit, right?" And you really don't. You are not at all a bad person for recognizing the frankly absurd amount of misogyny in the trans community. Feeling lost and confused is shitty, but it's normal for this situation. The best thing you can do is keep observing, keep reading, form your own opinions, and never let anyone tell you to shut up. Above all, prioritize yourself and your mental wellbeing. If you need to remove yourself from gender-related spaces and discussion for a while, that's totally alright. Just know you're not evil or a bigot for not blindly agreeing with everything the trans community has told you. Your opinions and experiences are worthwhile too.

[cmdrfupa]

Kento Nanami, His Royal Highness, has found himself curious about you. He refuses to call it infatuation because that's for people with no self control, something he has loads of. But social media is becoming increasingly less effective. He wants to experience you in the flesh and the perfect opportunity to meet you has landed in his lap. Now if you could always stay this close to him.

ModernRoyal!Nanami x PlusSize!Reader (black/woc coded but all can read and enjoy obvs 😗)

a/n: Congrats on 3k and Thank you @ayyy-pee for letting me participate the jujutsu journal event! I got carried away sksksksks. But I was inspired by this song . Idk what it was but it felt right. Anywho, I hope you enjoy!

WC: 3.4K

MDNI

c/w: partial smau, jealousy, sexual/provocative thoughts, stalker behavior, unhealthy infatuation and obsession, sexual acts, mentions of sex, italics aboose, internal dialogue, smut (vaginal fingering)

      He'd seen you in more and more of Gojos' IG posts over the last year, untagged. Assuming you were just a Gojo girl who wanted to be around for the perks of a wealthy socialite, He never asked to be introduced. But he did ask your name.

  A simple "Her face looks familiar" was all it took for Gojo to share not only your name and social media but also your profession, the university you were attending to get your degree, marital status, the name of your cat, and the fact that you lived in the US. Satoru loved to talk, thank goodness.

'Is that a Zenin? Tch'. A picture of you sitting in Naoya's lap, hand gripping your under thigh, sat on his dimmed screen. Maybe you had a reason for being seen with scumlike Naoya, but it wasn't a reason Kento wanted to know about. The following post was a brunch photo. A group of ladies with Gojo in the center. 'Keeping better friends. Smart girl.'. You were an enigma that brought him closer to the brink every time he saw your million-dollar smile.

His thoughts always started so pure before he thought about you in his bed, the strapless dress you wore in a photo captioned "Shawty got that dress on so the block is hot again" on his floor while at the same time, giving you the meanest strokes for teasing him this way. Thank heavens for the photos. Kento decided a throwaway Instagram account to like the posts and to look at your story would be brighter. Admiring more stealthily, he can at least fantasize about a life with you now that 'RateUp7_3' exists.

So put together. Every story or post included a bright smile or smolder in clothing that made him envy how they hugged your shape. Hair is always in its perfect, coiled natural state while you sit between Gojo and Geto or sit in their lap like some trophy. Satoru hugged you differently. Well. You were the only woman he seemed to hug in these photos. "Interesting," Nanami noted, something he should reanalyze when he has more time.

He pocketed his phone, realizing he had made it to his destination.

A small welcoming committee stood with broad smiles as they greeted HRH Crown Prince Kento. Bowing his head, taking the little book that was handed to him and began to look over the itinerary. "Busy week ahead! Your grandfather is waiting for you in Minato City." With that, his courtier, Ino, began to give him details for the coming week.

      Thanks to Gojo's extraordinary +1 privileges, you found yourself amid a private Gala he was obligated to attend. The champagne-colored satin gown, a cascade of elegance, draped your figure, accentuating the rich hues of your skin. A sight that could only be described as divine.

He broke off after briefly greeting Gojo, Geto, and others you weren't familiar with. He made his way to you near the bar, Easily making it seem like he was making his rounds to guests.

  "Good evening"

"Hello! You're Satoru and Suguru's' friend, right?" you inquired.

"I wouldn't say friend to Gojo. He's more like a gift with a purchase. But yes, I'm Ken."

  Giggles turned into a laugh once you both looked back over at Gojo, eating mini cupcakes, and Geto looking at him with concern.

Your laugh. It was the sounds of the heavens welcoming him to the golden throne. You snorted, and the resolve Kento had was officially withering.

"He's an interesting guy. I met him at a show I walked in a little over a year ago. Before that, he slid into my DMs and even sent me a pie to get my attention."

Kento didn’t think he could be jealous. That's for people who weren't self-assured. And he was very, very sure. Yeah, he's a man, but he's very strong-willed. No no. Not jealous. But this whole pie thing-

"Did it work?" Abruptly speaking. "The pie, I mean."

"Well, I'm talking to you right now. So what do you think?"

Kento exhaled a laugh, pushing back a strand of hair before looking over to you.

"He is a friend. A very good one. Always reliable"

"I've seen him in his element. He is indeed." sipping your cocktail, looking at him as you do.

"You mentioned walking in a show. Are you a model?" if you wanted to lie, it would've been a shame. He's already gone to see that your latest Savage Fenty ambassador collab dropped two days before you arrived in Japan. You looked ravishing in that fervently floral number.

"I am. I primarily work with small houses and on-the-rise designers. But that's how Satoru and I met. He was a guest model for FroviàGalón last season. It was a big hit. We've been working most shows together ever since."

This man could have any woman he wanted; He was Nanami family royalty. Handsome, smooth without even trying. He could buy a country with the proper connection if it mattered. But Gojo sending you a pie and practically being your purse dog makes him feel something. He was feeling jealous over a stupid pie and that white-haired imbecile. The slow unraveling because you snorted and the image of you spreading to show your glistening, plump, wet-

"The boy just loves to be in people's faces. He's one of the girls when we're out, so it's always a good time". Jealousy piques his nerves, and he notices your eyes trailing back to Gojo and Geto.

"He does enjoy good times."

"Speaking of, you plan on going to his after-party?" Innocence in your tone.

"After party? Of course, he finds that fitting for after a Gala."

His gaze lingered on your mouth, licking the remnants of the salted rim as you held the glass close to your body. The perfect honey-hued gloss with a hint of a shimmer. ’Her lips trailing down my chest, tongue lightly leaving a wet trail before swirling over my nip-‘

"You should come! I don't do parties, but since I'm on holiday, why not enjoy it?" the silky pep in your voice was going to be the death of him.

"I will consider it."

Get it together, Nanami.

Before he could offer to get you a drink, an older gentleman who looked very similar to Kento waved in his direction.

"I have to get going, unfortunately. But it was a pleasure meeting you. I.. don't know your name."

You tell him, smiling and holding your hand out.

"It was a pleasure to meet you as well, Ken. Hope to see you later tonight." He kissed your hand before walking off.

"Oh! And Bavarian cream."

"I'm sorry?" Confused, Kento turned back to you slightly.

"For the pie. I like Bavarian cream pie."

He smiled, turning away. "Fucks sake." He huffed, and his waistband was doing more work than anticipated tonight.

You made your way to the elevators, Gojo and Geto catching up as Geto wrapped his arm around your waist, pecking your cheek.

Kento watched you intently as he stood with his family. Saying goodbye to other guests was the least of his concerns when the swaying of your body had his mind completely occupied. Getos arm causing a severe problem for him as it sat right at your ass.

5… 4… 3… breathe Kento

He continued to make small talk with the guest, smiling as you three got into the elevator, doors closing, and his heart racing.

  It was like Gojo needed to learn how to have a small party. His penthouse, one of many, was now an entire club. A spacious dance floor, an open bar, and a dessert bar because that man wasn't touching a drop of alcohol. But a slice of Black Forest cake? Different story.

With an area roped off, you headed through the crowded floor in that direction.

  "There's my girl!" Shoko stood first, taking the cigarette out of her mouth before hugging you tightly. "How are you, doll face?"

"Better now that I've seen you, babe."

“I'm glad you decided to show up over an hour late." Gojo chimed in, an overdramatized look of annoyance on his face while pulling you to sit beside him.

"Toru. You know me. I'm not wearing the same fit to an after-party, bookie. Your girl had to get cute and comfortable."

"And a pair of Versace platforms is comfortable?" Geto questioned, sass embedded in his tone with a smirk.

"Exactly. I knew you'd get it, SuguPoo." the group laughed.

"Suguru, she's a Versace and Moschino model now. Those platforms are nothing", Satoru closed in, a cheeky smile spreading across his face as he handed you a drink.

Your cheeks got warmer as he mentioned your latest gig. You had officially made your mark. You were now standing as one of the few black curve models to walk one of the major fashion houses, getting the gig with pure talent. "Oh, baby. The way I wasn't expecting to hear back after my little rant about fashion house politics. But who could say no to this body?" You ran your hands down your hips and lightly smacked your rear, pulling playful howls from Shoko and Gojo while Geto laughed, shaking his head at your antics.

"Come on, let's give our faves show. I've missed you!" Gojo grabbed your hand, leading you to the dance floor. Shoko and Geto sat back to watch with their drinks in hand.

Kento watched and waited until you left the area, hands finally relieved of the clammy feeling they had for the last hour. Trying to restrain the hard-on you gave him once he saw the tight dress you changed into, he slipped into the bathroom to wait you out.

Nanami joined them the moment you left the section.

"Where've you been?" Shoko questioned harmlessly.

"Was just talking with some old acquaintances. I was trying to get back to you guys."

"Your detail giving you some breathing room tonight?" Geto pointed with his chin to the security guard he was used to seeing with Nanami, in far less inconspicuous attire than usual.

"You could say that. Didn't want to kill the mood."

    It was as if the music slowed when Kento's gaze approached you. The dance floor was packed, but he knew where you were—dancing with Satoru, who he wished to flick away so you could be all over him instead.

The way your body was swaying, generous ass moving against Gojo to a very poor mix of Pour It Up by Rihanna. You made it worth sitting through an awful set if it meant seeing how you grind on literally anything. The short, amber-colored dress showed the ample flesh he felt so desperate to grip onto. ' If you could just sit in my lap so I could hold you up as I give you every fucking inch of me.’

"I'm gonna step out for some air." Kento stood up, grabbing his gin and tonic, not looking back to see if Geto or Shoko heard him.

  Outside, he leaned against the railing. The late-night weather was welcoming. The faint almond scent from the trees wafted past his nostrils pleasantly. Closing his eyes, he sighed deeply, leaning into the comfortable breeze against his skin.

Every bit of contact he'd had with you that day felt like a tiny gesture of sweet love. How your supple skin felt under his lips when he kissed your hand. Your laughter was a healing potion. He left the comfort of his estate to see a woman who made him weak just by snorting. You were the beautiful, intelligent woman who was friends with Gojo and Geto. Under 6 hours of finally experiencing your perfection in person without a barrier and he couldn't fucking breathe without his constricted dick throbbing. So many people had access to you and he wanted to know you better than they did. He wanted to be to only one with that access. You were a need. Needing you beside him, on top of him, under him, “I want to hear you same my name while I sing yours like a praise to the heavens. My angel. My everything”

    He brings the glass to his mouth, finishing the watered-down gin drink.

The sound of heels approaching brought him back to earth. "Having fun?" His angel came into view as he opened his eyes.

"More or less. It seems like you're having a blast." The shimmer of your lip gloss kept his eyes on your lips longer than he intended.

"For sure. Satoru is always my dance partner when we're out together."

"That happens often?"

"Eh. When I'm visiting here, only when Suguru doesn't feel like it. So very often."

Kento offered the space next to him as you both snickered. Standing by him, he finally saw your beauty under the moonlight. Everything about you was like an awakening. Flawless, gentle, soft.

A few moments of silence passed before you spoke. "You know, you should do a better job of staring from across the room if you were trying to be lowkey."

Your words stun him, a nervous laugh leaving his mouth as he stands up straight.

"Sorry. I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable by any means."

"I'm not uncomfortable. I wouldn't have come out here if I was."

Relief shows as the wrinkles in his forehead relax. "Was it really that obvious?"

"Maybe I'm delusional, but your eyes followed me most of the night."

"Not delusional. But, to be clear. I find you incredibly attractive."

Your cheeks were now warming as his brown eyes looked for yours. "I'm flattered.”

"Can I buy you a drink? Preferably at a quieter locale?"

"Are you asking me out, Ken?"

"I wouldn't subject you to a drink as a first date."

Your smile glowed a bit more as he placed his hand on your lower back, making your way to the closest exit with him.

"We can discuss a proper date during the drinks. I am a gentleman, after all."

"Show me the way then, Ken."

"So hotel stays are your usual choice when you're here?"

Trying to keep your balance, you wrapped yourself around Kento's arm while you walked down the corridor from the bar.

“50/50. I grab a hotel if I get in too late or stay at one of Toru's places if I tell him in time. I'll be doing that in the morning once I check out."

'Toru? We will have to talk about these nicknames.'

"Well, I hope I was pleasant enough company this evening."

"You're fun, Ken," your voice echoed as you approached the elevators. "You are quite the man, and I had a great time getting to know you."

"It's been my pleasure. You are captivating and have my attention." The energy was refreshing for you both. He wasn't another menace from your DMs. A philanthropist finance guy was rare—a gentleman with a gentle disposition.

You stopped, going to balance against the wall, bending over to take off your heels.

"Here, let me."

"It's alright, I got it." you persisted, with no progress.

"Darling, you're missing the strap of the heel. I insist." You giggled and watched as he bent down on one knee to unfasten the dainty strap, removing the heels from your feet as you held onto his shoulders for support. A heat rushed to your ears as you felt how delicate he was being with you.

"Ken, you are indeed a godsend."

Nanami carried your shoes as he led you into the elevator, holding it open. "Which floor are you on?"

“30th,”

He hit the floor number and went to lean against the back wall. You stood in front of him, eyes on his exposed collarbone.

Noticing your unsteadiness, he stepped forward and carefully placed his hands above your waist.

"Easy. You okay?"

With your heart racing at 1000 miles an hour, you could only nod.

* Floor 4*

You leaned forward, placing your hand on his chest to steady yourself. Cedarwood and alcohol on his breath. Your eyes met his with a shared feverish desire as you peered up. You were buzzing now from the proximity.

*Floor 9*

You don't know how your hand went from his chest to gripping his neck, nails running through his undercut, but it happened before you got to floor 20, where he stopped the elevator.

"Ken.. please,"

His large hands gripped your thighs, lifting one of your legs to wrap around him. Your dress was already short, now hiking up as he pressed his thick bulge into your inner thighs.

"Please.. please say my name again." He grinds himself into you, pang of desire in his voice, breath tickling your ear as you wriggle your hand between you both to unbutton his shirt from the top.

"Ken. Nngh, shit. Ken.. I need you."

Lips finding purchase on your neck, nipping at any skin he could sink his teeth into. The pads of his fingers run down your panty-covered slit. A shiver went through you as he circled at your throbbing bundle of nerves.

"Fuck! Please, Ken."

"Please, what, darling? Use your words for me." His voice grew gruff as he felt you trying to grind against him.

"Please make me cum for you,"

“You want to make a mess for me. You want to be a slut in this elevator?” The patronizing voice made you whimper as the sound of Kento ripping your thin panties jilted you, his middle finger sinking into you deeply. A deep moan was all you could muster as his thick digit pumped into you, nails leaving crescents on his shoulders as he kept you pressed against the elevator wall. "Keeennnn. Fuck”

"All that for me, princess? Your cunt this wet all for me?" He curled his thick finger inside, finding that soft, sweet spot that made your knees buckle. "Looking at my hands while I drove. Playing innocently with them while you sat beside me in the booth." Talking through his teeth, he brought his weight against you, keeping you up as he aimed to make you beg before the elevator automatically began to move again. "beautiful, plump cunt was begging to have my fingers fill you. Is this it? Hm? Is this what my princess needed?"

"Oh fuck, oh fuck, yes! P-please don’t stop." You were desperate for release. The sloppy noises of your wet cunt filled the elevator as he relished in the slippery sensation. Brushing his lips to yours, Kento languidly slid his tongue inside your mouth, rolling them his tongue over yours while his grunts grew louder—a string of saliva connected you, a shared fervid look as the elevator dinged.

His hand was soaked, but he couldn't let this be where he gave you an orgasm for the first time. Letting your leg down, he brought his hand to your mouth, running his fingers covered in your essence on your lips.

"When we get to your room, you are mine. All of you." The hungry determination in his eye didn’t leave room for question; you were to be devoured.

The sun was like a death ray as the bright rays and the constant buzzing nearby awakened you.

"Ken," you rolled over to see him lying on his back, bite marks and glitter across his chest.

"Mm," his groggy tone, letting you know he was only halfway listening.

"Ken. Please get your phone. That shit is going nonstop."

"Sorry, angel"

He groaned as he moved, kissing your shoulder gently. You kissed his lips as he reached over you to the bedside table. The vibrations didn't seem to have an end in sight.

"No one should need me this early. I should have an open schedule."

Opening the first text in his sights, he begins to read, stomach sinking as he clicks the link Gojo sent.

"Ken, you okay? "

Nanami sat his phone down, trying to keep his composure. He knew he had to prepare you for the whirlwind of a nightmare that was to come. For you, at least. He didn't have to take the drastic measures he originally planned to have you, at least.

This may be good. No more admiring outside of your photo shoots. No more trips with just Satoru and Suguru to islands. He would be your comfort; you'd be by his side only. This incident could be the beginning of a whirlwind romance. That is different from how he would've done things. But he could soothe this over eventually.

"Before I say anything, just know I will do everything possible to keep you comfortable. Okay?" the sincerity in his eyes had you. You nodded as you looked down at his phone, eyes widening as you read the now-trending story.

“Kento? What the fuck is this? Prince!?”

thanks to the lovely @/saradika for the dividers <3

banner featuring art from @/narutoss_ramen! please go check them out!

Thank you for reading! <3

[sstormyskyess]

Pitch Black - Prologue

author's note: hello hello everyone!! welcome to my first long form series on this blog! i'm excited to share this story i've been cooking up since summer last year and i hope everyone likes it as much as i've had fun brainstorming it 😊 this is gonna be a little short prologue to set the mood and give a little context for reader so things make sense later on! please enjoy 💜

cw: descriptions of injury, mentions of vomiting

word count: 1400+

Everyone and their mother knows that Russian winters were ruthless. It was a widely accepted fact, even for those who hadn’t personally experienced one of said agonizing winters. Snowfall was common for six months out of the year, and the temperatures could reach —44 degrees fahrenheit.

Cold air seeped in from under the door of the tiny room you were confined in. You shivered while you sat on the old, flimsy cot against the back wall of the solitary prison cell. Your vision was unfocused and blurry, though it was hard to tell because it was too dark to see anything. The walls were made of dark concrete and half-rotted wood slats. It smelled musty and stale, the air circulation in the room severely lacking.

You wince when the door suddenly opens, squeezing your eyes shut and trying to block out the blinding LED lights beaming into the room out of nowhere. Your breath catches in your throat from the surprise, your chest stinging from the feeling. You peek an eye open when a metal food tray clatters to the floor. The sound was deafening as it cut through the murky silence you had been wallowing in, making you bring your hands up to cover your ears. The man that dropped the tray barks something at you in Russian before slamming the door shut once again.

Konni Group.

An up and coming Russian private military company, the target of your squad’s operation, and the people that had taken you prisoner.

The stated goal of your team was to clear out a known Konni base and to capture or kill the colonel they knew was posted up there. The POI had led a recent attack on a U.S. arms convoy and taken a number of highly lethal weaponry from the wreckage. The weapons were likely hidden somewhere in the base, and it was imperative to locate them before they were used anywhere.

The operation had gone less than optimally. It was doomed to fail from the start; the intel your squad was given was faulty, you had your cover blown by an ambush, and to cap it all off, the chaos allowed for Konni to get their hands on you and whisk you away.

 The only thing you could think of was time. How long had it been since you’d been thrown in here? Days, weeks, months? You couldn’t tell. Just thinking about it made your head hurt.

The only measurement you had was how long it was between the miniscule amount of food you were granted by your captors on a seemingly random schedule. You were practically able to feel your body consuming itself, your stomach growling at you angrily. You would cry, but the waterworks had run dry ages ago. You couldn’t afford to lose any more water; you didn’t have that privilege anymore. 

Years of active service in the U.S. Marines had gotten you used to grueling conditions, but nothing like this. Even out in the field, dispatched from whatever base you were stationed in, you knew you’d be able to secure some kind of sustenance. Food and water felt like a luxury now.

Despite the cold, the hunger, and the wear and tear on your body, both internal and external, the worst part was the lack of contact. You couldn’t even hear anyone moving outside, no matter how hard you strained your ears. There was no light peeking from under the door, so you couldn’t track shadows moving. The only indication that someone was behind the door was the meager rations being put into the cell. Between those meals, for all you knew, no one was present in the facility anymore.

Too much time had passed for anyone to still be looking for you or trying to rescue you. It hurt, at first. The feeling of being forgotten or being considered disposable had been crippling for a while, so painfully debilitating that it had you weeping endlessly for days, maybe even a week or more. The muscles of your stomach ached afterwards. Mixed with all the kicks and punches you suffered from interrogations, your heaving sobs had you nauseous and throwing up bile frequently.

You ruminated over what could possibly be the reason you were still being kept here instead of being executed. You weren't being interrogated anymore by now. You were just left with the wounds that you sustained from hours upon days upon weeks of interrogation. The bruises had healed, but the cuts were infected from the shoddy cauterizing job they had attempted. It felt like the bones that were broken were healing incorrectly.

You sigh shakily, your perpetually shivering body getting uncomfortable, so you try to shift a bit. The only thing you accomplished by trying to roll over on your tiny stone cold cot was falling face down onto the floor. You wince and give a weak groan, curling up and holding your stomach. You try your hardest to just close your eyes and get some sleep, no matter how restless it was.

When you woke up, you were finally back in the present. You were finally back in the little old house that you found after escaping that Konni facility, the sun just barely rising over the horizon.

It had been two years since you were abducted. The realization hit you hard. Two years you spent in that dark, cold, suffocating cell. Two years you spent withering away, slowly but surely. Two years you spent in your own special hell, alone, battered and beaten, left scarred for years and years to come.

You roll over and get out of the bed, a headache already springing forth in your head, making you rub your temples. You sigh and amble over to your rucksack full of all the essentials—well, most of them at least. You frown at the sight that greets you. Only a few MREs left and all of them were your least favorites. But, you’ve been through worse.

You pace around the room as you eat, reading some of the files you pulled off the rickety table in the corner of the tiny one room cabin. You scan the files and run a thumb over the insignia on the front of the manila folder containing everything you needed for your next job.

Al Qatala.

A terrorist organization based out of Urzikstan, the current boogeyman of the western world, and your current contractor.

The life of a freelance intel agent was an interesting one, to say the least. You had been around the world making problems for a countless number of political and military bodies, but the money was worth it. Not to mention the anonymity that came with not being tied down to any one organization.

You went off the grid after you escaped from Konni. You wanted to go back to normal life, but something in you told you to stay away from it all. Maybe it was the fear of being found and captured again. The logical side of your brain told you that there was no reason they would want you back, but it was hard to reason with a brain torn apart by the sort of trauma you went through.

You hadn’t cared to check up on any of your old teammates. There was an underlying resentment present in the back of your mind. You were betrayed by them, after all. They left you for dead and didn’t look back. Thinking back on it made you frown. You watched them leave you behind with no hesitation, run away without looking back. So much for no man left behind, right?

By the time you snap out of your frustrated thoughts, you’re already finished with your food. Your headache has gotten worse. You groan and pinch the bridge of your nose. You would really have to invest in some painkillers.

Based on how high the sun has gotten, you figure it’s about time to get moving. At least focusing on this job would keep your mind off the events that led you here. You flip through a folder and look at the location that was printed on one of the papers. Then, you take a peek at the pictures of the people you were meant to track.

Task Force 141.

A multinational task force recently founded, a team dedicated to making the world a better place, and ones that had been causing problems for your current contractor.

You take a deep breath and pack all your things away, ready yourself for the trek to the task force’s current location, and leave the cabin with the determination that kicks in whenever you set out on a mission.

𝐩𝐢𝐭𝐜𝐡 𝐛𝐥𝐚𝐜𝐤 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

𝐦𝐚𝐢𝐧 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

[olderthannetfic]

I'm a known writer for my fandom. It's a very small fandom, so it doesn't really mean anything, but I got there early and built a nice little following.

I don't know what happened in the past few weeks, but I suddenly started getting a bunch of anon asks in my inbox demanding I express myself on the "issue" that is the current Palestinian situation. I've been ignoring them, blocking the anons, but they just kept fucking coming.

Under my last fic, I got a couple of guest comments accusing me of being antisemitic and a couple of guest comments accusing me of being an islamophobic colonizer. Under the same story!! How???

I had to disallow guest comments and anons, so now I keep receiving insults and demands that I express my opinion through sock puppet accounts. I don't know how many fucking times I've been so far labelled as a Zionist and an antisemite, and the last asks I've received got really over the top and violent, claiming that I'm the reason why Palestinian children are dying and I'm a privileged white woman (I'm not white and emigrated from a third world country, but ok) and I'm contributing to genocide.

And I'm so fucking tired of this internet activism! So, so fucking tired!

Because the reason why I engage with fandom is to take a step away from reality. I watch the fucking news, I spend my due time informing myself about global issues on the internet, I do discuss this shit with my IRL friends and colleagues and family members, I go to protests, and during the BLM protests I was out there helping with water and first aid.

But fandom is fucking me time. It's the time of my day when I unplug my brain and write whatever the fuck I want, reblog gif sets on Tumblr, and watch thirst traps on TikTok. I don't log into Tumblr, the site that cunts use to spread misinformation and fake Go Fund Me's and people who pretend to have written My Immortal to promote their shitty memoir, to receive or do any kind of information.

Stop looking for influencers and random people on the internet to explain to you global issues! Why the fuck are you people so into your own asses that you can't fucking understand the reason why some kid who got famous for dancing while wearing cat ears doesn't want to talk about their opinion about far more serious matters?

Everything has a place and a time, and some people realize that their audience goes to them to detach from reality, rather than being reminded of it.

"Oh, but if you don't talk about it, it means you're supporting the bad guys!" Sure! Because the fucking apartheid is build specifically on me not wanting to use my fandom blog to post pictures of dead children and raped women! Too bad that Nelson Mandela became an activist before the internet, uh? He could've solved a bunch of issues by posting a couple of Insta stories!

"Oh, you don't realize how privileged you are to be able to ignore the issue!" I'm not fucking ignoring it, I'm ignoring it in places where my opinion matters less than zero! And yes, I'm fully aware that I'm privileged to be able to ignore it, but you're disgusting because you're using it as a way to build a following on a blogging platform. Hope that posting pictures of slaughtered human bodies was really worth the 50 followers it got you, Allison!

I don't know if this makes sense. Whatever. I'm fucking pissed.

--

Sounds like a bunch of clowns in a discord somewhere decided to target you or something.

[the-kirbe-anon]

MANIFESTIMONY (1/???)

Lately, I’ve been trying to block out all outside influences from my personal relationship with god, but here’s the difficult thing about that: I’m still looking for answers. The Bible on its own isn’t enough for me, it’s just not. It’s vague as fuck, and there’s a lot of unanswered questions that I need properly answered if you expect me to understand any of it at all. But when most Christians/Pastors tell me their answers, I add those answers into the equation and it just makes me feel even worse, leaving me with even more questions, depression, paranoia, and overall confusion than before. I know that you probably think I shouldn’t let other Christians influence my relationship with God, as if it’s not already bad just being God, The Bible, and me. I try to picture God how you all want me to picture him (a loving father), but then thoughts of all the things he did in the bible come to mind, and I start to feel as if it's all just a facade. It all crumbles away, and I start to feel sick. I just can’t feel safe in him. It feels better viewing Christ as a being entirely separate from God, a being that came to sacrificed himself to save us from his father’s wrath. If Jesus is God, the same god that did all of those things, then I feel like he deserved everything they did to him. Why should I feel bad for him? He’s the all-powerful ruler of existence, he has everything he could ever want and infinitely more. He CHOSE to become human, he KNEW he would be killed in the way he was. He WANTED to be killed in the way he was. In fact, why should I feel bad for him anyway? He’s the son of God, that makes him one of the most privileged people in existence by default. He didn’t even stay dead, so what exactly did he sacrifice? Even ignoring all of that, why did God feel he had to die in one of the most violent and horrific ways imaginable just so he can save us from himself? Is God not powerful enough against sin to avoid bloodshed? Or is he just that bloodthirsty? Why did God have to kill so many people? Is God not all-powerful against the devil? Can God not just come up with a way to fix the issue without killing his children? Did he know he would have to do this to them? If he did, then why did he create them in the first place? Are we all just disposable toys for him? Things he can play with for a while and then discard when we don’t serve the purpose he wanted us to have? Does he even really consider us humans his children? Or just the ones that mindlessly obey him? God never changes apparently, so he’s still the same bloodthirsty, apathetic tyrant he was when he did all those things. Why should I trust him? Because he created me? Look at what he HIMSELF did to the things he’s created in the past. I know God hates me asking all these questions and is probably contemplating the right time to kill me right now, but I’ve tried to stop thinking about all of this, and I just can’t. I wish God never gave humans free will. He had no reason to give humans free will whatsoever. He knew ALL of the risks, knowing that he would have to kill so many of his own creations, ones that he supposedly “loved”, and knowing that most of those creations wouldn’t come back to him, and he STILL gave us free will. WHY? Does he just love seeing us fuck up all the time so he can justify punishing us? Otherwise, I can’t see a reason. Think about how much better everything would be if we didn’t have free will, how much happier we all would be, and most importantly, how much happier God would be. There would be no sin, because we’d be unable to. We would still be in the garden. God wouldn’t have to have killed any of us and none of us would go to hell. The more Christians I talk to, the less christians I’m able to talk to, and the more I feel like, maybe this is God’s way of telling me I deserve to be alone.

Hello Anon, sorry this answer took a bit, but I'll try to answer this to the best of my ability and if I miss something/ say something wrong I hope my fellow Christian mutuals chime in as needed.

1. Jesus is God. There are many Bible verses that point to this.

John 10:30 (ESV)

30 I and the Father are one.”

John 8:58

Jesus said to them, “Truly, truly, I say to you, before Abraham was, I am.”

John 1:1

In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God.

There are more verses that show that The Father and The Son and The Holy Spirit are one God, the same God.

Now, Why did God kill people?

Well God, being fully good, cannot tolerate sin. The punishment for sin is death and hell. God is fully justice as well, so while He can decide who dies and who doesn't, and even uses the government (not citizens such as vigilantes) as a tool for justice (death penalty, prison, ECT.

(better explained in these articles)

Why did God give us free will, knowing that we would sin?

He did that because He wanted us to have a relationship with Him, and if we were like machines or puppets, we wouldn't be able to have a relationship with Him.

We wouldn't get to know His incredible mercy, His grace or truly understand what His love is. More on that here

(GotQuestions teen site, put it there because they explain it in an easy to understand way while remaining true to the Bible.)

Also God doesn't want to punish us and He's not waiting for you to mess up so He could kill or punish you, that's not who He is and I'm sorry if someone made you think He is like that. God does hate sin and wants us to repent but he's not sitting there waiting to kill or punish you. Yes continuous unrepentant sin leads to Hell, but Jesus (as I said, also God) did everything necessary for you to repent and be saved.

God sent His Son so that anyone who accepts Him as their Lord and Savior can be saved, including you.

We ALL have sinned, and deserve punishment, especially me. I'm no better than anyone else and struggle with sin daily. BUT Jesus, who had never sinned, died on the cross to pay for our sins, and resurrected three days later. He didn't sin, so He didn't deserve the punishment He got, but willingly accepted the punishment we deserve so that He could save us.

If you accept Jesus, you don't ever need to worry about being punished, because He already paid for that punishment.

[goatfactsofficial]

Honestly, I consider my self "pro-israel" but still very critical about Bibis goverment, specially since fuckers like Gvir ad Smorvtich are in charge. I think that with Hamas finally gone and this fuckers either jailed for good or gone since they are actually hated by the Israeli population rn (The only reason they havent kicked them to kingdom come is because its the middle of a war) a good faith peace plan for both sides can be established with a third party of trust.

This being said, why the fuck do people root for Hamas? Ive seen this so called progressive even calling them 'resistance'. These fuckers are the main cause that palestinians are in the situation they are in. They use all the money they get from aid to try to attack israel, use their own population as shields because they dont care about them and indoctrictnated them to hate since children. Do they really want to leave them opressing Gazans like nothing happened after oct 7th? Because Ive havent seen any goverment willing to do this dirty work because, sadly, Hamas wont reliquinsh their "power" peacefully.

Honestly, in a past I considered my self pro-palestinian and pro-israel, at least publicly, but these loud minority of Hamasinks seemed to have hijacked a movement that started with good intentions. But sadly it appears that this minority is becoming the majority.

Is there anything that can be done to revert this? To alianeate these extremist from the reasonable voices?

First of all, hell of an anon to get. If you're baiting, nice job. Otherwise I'm going to assume this is a good faith ask. (Though I'm still confused as to why you asked me.) So re: why do people support Hamas. I'm assuming you're referring to the Pro-Pal Left that has reared its head since October 7th. Honestly I think it comes down to the privilege that almost everyone in the Imperial Core has: Freedom from War. These folks learned about War Crimes in highschool or whatever, never bothered to learn what they actually were and the how and why of their drafting, and now they hear about Israel bombing hospitals and they can't imagine any possible scenario where that could be justified. To these folks War is two armies marching at each other in block formations in an open field. And perhaps their only conception of Urban War is the civilian-less and consequence-free set pieces of modern warfare shooters. And it shows! I've seen people praising the Mujahideen in Gaza as brave and noble heroes for slapping the side of a Merkavah with a tandem charge RPG all while ignoring the fact that the person firing the RPG isn't wearing any sort of distinguishable uniform and are therefore committing the crime of perfidy. And it drives me insane because perfidy is such a fucking poisonous thing to do. Any action which erodes a belligerents ability to read actions in good faith is horrific, and actions like that are exactly what Hamas' strategy and tactics are based on and around. To break it down for the pissing on the poor crowd: 1: Hamas plans operation and bases soldiers in hospital 2: Israel bombs that hospital, whichever officer in charge has made the hard decision that the number of military casualties is worth the number of civilian collateral casualties, as well as damage to the hospital infrastructure. (THIS IS LEGAL AND NOT A WAR CRIME) 3: Hamas makes up death count and has their media corps play corpse jenga 4: useful idiots in the Imperial Core see that Israel bombed a hospital (no possible reason for doing that other than killing innocents!) and the 3000 years of antisemitism thats hardcoded into their brains kicks in and all the blood libel floods out. As for alienating the extremists from the moderates. I have no idea. Frankly I could care less about what Johnny Jihad or his leftist brownshirts care about Palestine or Israel or Jews or Palestinians. I give far more of a fuck in making the world a better place where I can. And that takes many forms. Including skipping out on my draft service because I didn't want to risk being a part of the apparatus that does in fact contribute to the oppression of Palestinians. What have any of these "Pro-Palestine" leftists ever done for the Palestinian cause that comes anywhere near that level of direct action?

[soon-palestine]

@RBatniji is one of the most respected entrepreneurs in Silicon valley. He lost 37 members of his family on 18th Nov by an Israeli airstrike. He recently met with Secretary Blinken and here is what he shared,

"I am Rajaie Batniji. I take no pride and no honor in being here.

I was born in Gaza and immigrated to California as a young child. I am Rajaie Batniji. I take no pride and no honor in being here. Many of my fellow Palestinian Americans discouraged me from speaking with you today, concerned that this discussion was solely performative. I share their concern.

I come here out of a sense of duty, to try – as futile as it may be – to save my family in Gaza from being killed. I was born in Gaza and immigrated to California as a young child. I grew up visiting Gaza often, and those visits shaped me in many ways. I personally experienced some of the violence of occupation.

I studied the history of the region at Stanford, completed my doctorate in international relations at Oxford as a Marshall Scholar – honoring the legacy of one of your predecessors in this office – and became a physician focused on the health of those that have the least privilege. I’m an entrepreneur who builds teams and technologies that improve American health care.

I would rather not be here today. Mr. Secretary, you have provided the weapons and the political cover that enabled the murder of 65 members of my family, mostly women and children, over the past four months. In strikes in mid-November, three generations of my family were killed by missiles as they sought shelter and safety. I carry their memories with me. I see their crushed bodies when I close my eyes.

The survivors in my family are homeless. Some 70% of homes in Gaza have been destroyed, according to an analysis by The Wall Street Journal, along with almost all the schools, all the universities, many of the hospitals, the mosques, the churches, the historical sites and the public records.

My paternal grandparents’ home in Shejaiya had been among the last homes of my family still standing. This is the home where I was born. It collapsed in a “controlled demolition” just before the new year.

According to our own US intelligence agencies, Israel used 29,000 air-to-ground munitions during the first two months of its assault on Gaza. That’s more than were used in the years of the Iraq War – and Gaza is less than one thousandth the size.

No one I know in Gaza has a home, or possessions beyond what they carried as they fled Israeli bombardment.

My family may be better off than most in Gaza and they are still hungry. I spoke with my mom’s brother this week, and he told me he has lost almost 20 kilograms (44 pounds). Despite your promises, food aid has not been able to reach Gaza to come anywhere near meeting the need. It is blocked at every opportunity, including by Israeli protestors at the Kerem Shalom border crossing, and by Israeli inspections and within Gaza by the Israeli military. According to the United Nations, 4 out of 5 of the hungriest people anywhere in the world are in Gaza. You know that the UN agency for Palestinian refugees, UNRWA, provides food for most Gazans and critical infrastructure for other aid organizations. Yet, after Israel made unverified allegations that a handful of UNRWA staff participated in the October 7 attacks, you cut the funding for UNRWA in what I can understand only as an act of collective punishment. I fear this makes you, and me – as an American – party to the use of starvation as a weapon of war.

My cousins in Gaza, who are physicians like me, have no place to practice medicine. Their hospitals have been destroyed or incapacitated. After moving from Shifa to al-Aqsa hospital, only to be evacuated from each by the Israeli military after seeing patients and colleagues killed, they are now living in tents in Rafah and al-Mawasi, using their surgical skills to repair leaks in their tents while the bodies of wounded Palestinians go untreated, and often unretrieved.

I have worked extensively in global health and wrote a series of research papers in 2009 on what we thought then was a Palestinian health crisis. We could never, though, have imagined this – the complete destruction of Gaza’s health care system is unprecedented.

Even the dead among my family were not spared. Satellite images show that Israeli bulldozers and tanks desecrated the graveyards where my grandparents and great grandparents were resting. I hope to bury their remains again one day.

What do you wish to be your legacy, Secretary Blinken? You cannot say you didn’t know. You cannot say that you did not knowingly and materially support these deaths, which a US federal court and the International Court of Justice have both determined plausibly constitute genocide. I am the father of three young children in San Francisco. As adults, I am certain they will reflect on this “genocide” with horror. It will be taught in our classrooms and remembered in our museums as we vow never to repeat it.

I ask you to use the full power of your office and every bit of leverage the US has to allow aid to reach all of Gaza, including in the north, where hundreds of thousands of people remain in desperation. And, to resume the funding for UNRWA, which will be essential to the distribution of any aid. I ask you to uphold a rules-based order – which serves our long-term interests – by calling Israel’s indiscriminate bombing that has largely killed women and children, the attacks on health care and the use of starvation as a weapon of war as the war crimes you and I know they are. Your words matter, Mr. Secretary.

I feel indignity sitting before you in this comfortable conference room while my family desperately awaits word about a ceasefire, in the dark, hungry, and in tents in fear that the Israeli military will kill them at any moment.

In a dignified world, I would be asking for justice, not mercy. That day will come.

I hope that you, and this administration, can act quickly to bring our nation to the right side of history before it is far too late.I ask you to uphold a rules-based order – which serves our long-term interests – by calling Israel’s indiscriminate bombing that has largely killed women and children, the attacks on health care and the use of starvation as a weapon of war as the war crimes you and I know they are. Your words matter, Mr. Secretary.

I feel indignity sitting before you in this comfortable conference room while my family desperately awaits word about a ceasefire, in the dark, hungry, and in tents in fear that the Israeli military will kill them at any moment.

In a dignified world, I would be asking for justice, not mercy. That day will come.

I hope that you, and this administration, can act quickly to bring our nation to the right side of history before it is far too late.

[just-orbiting-you]

maybe I'm out of pocked for saying this or maybe it sounds too harsh since i am ot7 and I do love all of them and no matter what I support the music and think they're all very good people who never cause harm intentionally, but I think these last few years tae has kind of changed as a person

ofc he has every right to become the adult he wants and there's nothing bad with it but I've noticed through his actions that he's grown up to be a little superficial, kind of mindless and that he romanticizes life too much and maybe doesn't think things through, maybe caught up to much with the celebrity lifestyle and privilege

not only with the whole wanting attention always especially during times when other members are in focus or also with the whole MCD drama or posting online endlessly even in this so called the most serious and discreet period of life for them

it feels like he doesn't take things seriously or he's not grounded enough

it looks like he even romanticizes the military where even if he choose one of the most intensive units, i feel like one of the reasons he did so is just because he wanted to try all the cool uniforms of that unit and try to "play the part" like it's some sort of a movie role where we've seen that in comparison with other members, taes unit is the one who's always exposed to the general public and strolling around town because they participate in events that need security/bodyguards. like even in this time he wanted to be in the public eye and been seen and act cool and be photograped

the fact that he always kind of sneakily posted and talked about things with jk which clearly jk doesn't really like that much because he never reciprocates and he has provided context for what tae says 2-3 times because he clearly doesn't want misunderstandings or fueling tkkrs, jk has always been careful about that

idk i hope it doesn't sound to crazy, it's just a bit of uncensored thoughts because his behavior has really put me in a lot of doubts

i have another anon post similar to this and i honestly fully agree. there's a level of grandiose in tae lately that i think leaves him looking less grounded, relatable and (even likable) lately that i don't think was always there. i've been calling him pretty flippant and irresponsible, like lacks a sense of awareness and this goes back to his behavior in boy voyage years ago. i haven't really been compelled by his personality in a while and i think you're right in that fame and attention really did emphasize that bad parts of him.

i feel like one of the reasons he did so is just because he wanted to try all the cool uniforms of that unit and try to "play the part" like it's some sort of a movie role

THIS 100%. who even knows if this is conscious in him, but he got so much attention for even choosing this line of work in the military. when he said "i have a plan for the military" i thought it meant go to special forces so he can bulk up. and that's kind of what happened. but i've seen more tae pictures i think then anyone else (and i try my best to block and disengage with military photos as best as i can). i don't think tae could bear leaving his idol lifestyle behind, seeing as he doesn't stop posting even STILL. and this special forces was the closest thing he could find.

tae and jk's dynamic will continue to be so funny because jungkook doesn't take his bullshit. i see jungkook as someone who really isn't phased by much so it might not get to him personally when tae calls him on short notice to go places or invites him to big events, but those times where he does call him out publicly are hilarious, showing jk's true thoughts on tae.

thanks for your ask!! really enlightening (and as someone who has been yapping to my irl army friend about tae's behavior for months, it's nice to see someone else with a similar sentiment).

[greater-than-the-sword]

MANIFESTIMONY (1/???)

Lately, I’ve been trying to block out all outside influences from my personal relationship with god, but here’s the difficult thing about that: I’m still looking for answers. The Bible on its own isn’t enough for me, it’s just not. It’s vague as fuck, and there’s a lot of unanswered questions that I need properly answered if you expect me to understand any of it at all. But when most Christians/Pastors tell me their answers, I add those answers into the equation and it just makes me feel even worse, leaving me with even more questions, depression, paranoia, and overall confusion than before. I know that you probably think I shouldn’t let other Christians influence my relationship with God, as if it’s not already bad just being God, The Bible, and me. I try to picture God how you all want me to picture him (a loving father), but then thoughts of all the things he did in the bible come to mind, and I start to feel as if it's all just a facade. It all crumbles away, and I start to feel sick. I just can’t feel safe in him. It feels better viewing Christ as a being entirely separate from God, a being that came to sacrificed himself to save us from his father’s wrath. If Jesus is God, the same god that did all of those things, then I feel like he deserved everything they did to him. Why should I feel bad for him? He’s the all-powerful ruler of existence, he has everything he could ever want and infinitely more. He CHOSE to become human, he KNEW he would be killed in the way he was. He WANTED to be killed in the way he was. In fact, why should I feel bad for him anyway? He’s the son of God, that makes him one of the most privileged people in existence by default. He didn’t even stay dead, so what exactly did he sacrifice? Even ignoring all of that, why did God feel he had to die in one of the most violent and horrific ways imaginable just so he can save us from himself? Is God not powerful enough against sin to avoid bloodshed? Or is he just that bloodthirsty? Why did God have to kill so many people? Is God not all-powerful against the devil? Can God not just come up with a way to fix the issue without killing his children? Did he know he would have to do this to them? If he did, then why did he create them in the first place? Are we all just disposable toys for him? Things he can play with for a while and then discard when we don’t serve the purpose he wanted us to have? Does he even really consider us humans his children? Or just the ones that mindlessly obey him? God never changes apparently, so he’s still the same bloodthirsty, apathetic tyrant he was when he did all those things. Why should I trust him? Because he created me? Look at what he HIMSELF did to the things he’s created in the past. I know God hates me asking all these questions and is probably contemplating the right time to kill me right now, but I’ve tried to stop thinking about all of this, and I just can’t. I wish God never gave humans free will. He had no reason to give humans free will whatsoever. He knew ALL of the risks, knowing that he would have to kill so many of his own creations, ones that he supposedly “loved”, and knowing that most of those creations wouldn’t come back to him, and he STILL gave us free will. WHY? Does he just love seeing us fuck up all the time so he can justify punishing us? Otherwise, I can’t see a reason. Think about how much better everything would be if we didn’t have free will, how much happier we all would be, and most importantly, how much happier God would be. There would be no sin, because we’d be unable to. We would still be in the garden. God wouldn’t have to have killed any of us and none of us would go to hell. The more Christians I talk to, the less christians I’m able to talk to, and the more I feel like, maybe this is God’s way of telling me I deserve to be alone.

1. Anon, you don't have to block out all outside influence from your relationship with God. That's not a thing we're commanded to do because good influence is also a thing. If you want to hear what the Bible has to say before listening to other people great, but that doesn't mean you shouldn't hear other people because maybe they have good things to say.

2. Christianity is not about "feeling bad" for Jesus. The Bible is very upfront that Jesus died by his own choice, volition and foreknowledge in the expectation of future glory.

3. God has never done anything bad. None of the 3 persons of the trinity ever did anything bad. The "Old Testament God" never did anything bad. God has never been apathetic. If you read the old testament, you will see God's care all over the place. So, exactly which deed does it trouble you to associate Jesus with?

4. Jesus's sacrifice was massive when you consider who he is, how far he lowered himself from that, and the magnitude of what He endured on a spiritual level, which is the actual outpouring of God's wrath and not just merely the same execution that the thief next to him was getting.

5. Think for a minute about how debt works. If you want God to forgive people, well, think for a minute about what that means. A person who forgives a debt has to absorb the cost of the debt. To me, this is a very helpful way to think about the atonement. That IS what it looks like for God to forgive sin. That's the only way there is on a cosmic level of how the universe works, and you have gotta get in on it.

[elfwreck]

it's not a "right" when it's something fundamentally harmful that no-one should have access to

this is about gays in the US military, isn't it?

The point is: Straights have the right to be in the military, and serve in whatever capacity their skills, background, and resources can get for them.

Non-straights have only recently won that right, and it still comes with caveats.

If you wanna claim that the entire military is basically a capitalistic tool of oppression, I won't argue.

If you want to ban all military service, eliminate the armed forces entirely, I am down with that too.

...Start with blocking it from the majority, dominant social group, not with excluding people who are already marginalized and claiming you're doing them a favor.

Because right now, it's a career path that's entirely open to cis het white men, and a career path with restrictions for everyone else. This will not become more fair or reasonable by heaping more restrictions on the "everyone else" — instead, it reinforces discrimination by creating yet another pocket where the dominant group gets extra privileges while claiming that it's open to "everyone" and is "merit based."

You can't fight discrimination by creating more of it and saying "but it's only allowed in EVIL settings."

If the setting is evil, fight to get rid of it. In the meantime, fight to remove the discrimination from everywhere.

Maybe it'd be less evil if it weren't mostly run by cis het white men. (Probably not. But it's not like we have some nice examples of egalitarian, equal-rights, no-discrimination military forces to look at.)

[lilliesandlight]

DISCLAIMER: This is not a troll/hate post. Many people have already assumed it is, so I thought I’d just put this here for future receivers.

MANIFESTIMONY (1/???)

Lately, I’ve been trying to block out all outside influences from my personal relationship with god, but here’s the difficult thing about that: I’m still looking for answers. The Bible on its own isn’t enough for me, it’s just not. It’s vague as fuck, and there’s a lot of unanswered questions that I need properly answered if you expect me to understand any of it at all. But when most Christians/Pastors tell me their answers, I add those answers into the equation and it just makes me feel even worse, leaving me with even more questions, depression, paranoia, and overall confusion than before. I know that you probably think I shouldn’t let other Christians influence my relationship with God, as if it’s not already bad just being God, The Bible, and me. I try to picture God how you all want me to picture him (a loving father), but then thoughts of all the things he did in the bible come to mind, and I start to feel as if it's all just a facade. It all crumbles away, and I start to feel sick. I just can’t feel safe in him. It feels better viewing Christ as a being entirely separate from God, a being that came to sacrificed himself to save us from his father’s wrath. If Jesus is God, the same god that did all of those things, then I feel like he deserved everything they did to him. Why should I feel bad for him? He’s the all-powerful ruler of existence, he has everything he could ever want and infinitely more. He CHOSE to become human, he KNEW he would be killed in the way he was. He WANTED to be killed in the way he was. In fact, why should I feel bad for him anyway? He’s the son of God, that makes him one of the most privileged people in existence by default. He didn’t even stay dead, so what exactly did he sacrifice? Even ignoring all of that, why did God feel he had to die in one of the most violent and horrific ways imaginable just so he can save us from himself? Is God not powerful enough against sin to avoid bloodshed? Or is he just that bloodthirsty? Why did God have to kill so many people? Is God not all-powerful against the devil? Can God not just come up with a way to fix the issue without killing his children? Did he know he would have to do this to them? If he did, then why did he create them in the first place? Are we all just disposable toys for him? Things he can play with for a while and then discard when we don’t serve the purpose he wanted us to have? Does he even really consider us humans his children? Or just the ones that mindlessly obey him? God never changes apparently, so he’s still the same bloodthirsty, apathetic tyrant he was when he did all those things. Why should I trust him? Because he created me? Look at what he HIMSELF did to the things he’s created in the past. I know God hates me asking all these questions and is probably contemplating the right time to kill me right now, but I’ve tried to stop thinking about all of this, and I just can’t. I wish God never gave humans free will. He had no reason to give humans free will whatsoever. He knew ALL of the risks, knowing that he would have to kill so many of his own creations, ones that he supposedly “loved”, and knowing that most of those creations wouldn’t come back to him, and he STILL gave us free will. WHY? Does he just love seeing us fuck up all the time so he can justify punishing us? Otherwise, I can’t see a reason. Think about how much better everything would be if we didn’t have free will, how much happier we all would be, and most importantly, how much happier God would be. There would be no sin, because we’d be unable to. We would still be in the garden. God wouldn’t have to have killed any of us and none of us would go to hell. The more Christians I talk to, the less christians I’m able to talk to, and the more I feel like, maybe this is God’s way of telling me I deserve to be alone. 

ok. So. I am by no means a theology expert.

Humans are different than animals because God made us in his image, and gave us free will. Do you have kids, or younger figures that look up to you? It’s like that. God gives us rules (the Bible) but it’s our choice whether or not to follow the Bible. At the beginning of time, God created Adam and Eve. He gave them a choice, to sin, or to obey Him. They chose, of their free will, to eat the forbidden fruit. God is loving. But he is also honest, and he is also just. The punishment for sin is death. As a parent must punish their child for doing wrong, in the hopes that they might learn, God, as our Father, must put punishments in place for us. I don’t know why the punishment for sin is death. But it is. So therefore, Adam and Eve (and anyone else who sins) should have died, and gone to hell. But thousands of years later, God, as Jesus, gave His life for us. “That whosoever believeth on Him should not perish (in hell) but have everlasting life (in heaven)” John 3:16 KJV. Anything that we go through on this earth is not God punishing us. He isn’t sadistic. There are trials that we go through to advance our faith as a Christian. There are trials that Satan gives us to try and make us falter in our walk as a Christian. Bad things happen to good people. Just look at Job! Bad things that happen on this earth are not what God originally intended to happen. This world is broken by sin. When God created it, we all lived in a utopia in the garden of Eden. Yet humans chose to disobey God. Because of that, we live in a cursed world. To really answer your question, I don’t know why God gave us free will. But He did, and there was a chance we wouldn’t have sinned. God can see ultimate possibilities, but He decided to give us the ability to choose. And we chose (and choose, every day) to commit a crime with the death penalty. So God, in His mercy, chose, of His free will, to take the punishment for us.

Have you read the chronicles of Narnia? I would recommend the lion the witch and the wardrobe.

Chrumblr, pls let me know if I missed something!

[thislovintime]

Photos 2-4 are screenshots from the Good Times! EPK.

“Hi, Peter! First, we just want to say that you are the BEST THING EVER. Second of all, I have a question for you involving what your opinion is on gay rights. My boyfriend and I have been dating seriously for three years, and in that time, have come across more example of discrimination than I would care to recap. We would like to know: what is your opinion on gay rights? Should we be treated with common decency and respect, or are we subhuman because we happen to be in love? Do we not deserve the right to marry, or adopt children? And why do people who think of themselves as good people treat other human beings this way? Best wishes, Mike”

“Well, Mike, Is this a trick question? Because the answer(s) is (are) the same whether you’re gay, black, a woman, Jewish, Catholic, handicapped, poor…have I left anyone out? (And I don’t want to hear middle-class straight white males try to tell me that they’re discriminated against in this modern, PC world. We m-c, s, w m’s are incredibly privileged, and while I’m sorry for the poor shlub who feels his place has been taken by somebody less qualified, etc., I think of the deprivations historically visited on all the above-mentioned before I get too indignant.) Oh, and one more thing. Everybody, believe it or not, believes that they are good people doing the best they can. There are very few exceptions, and even most of those few exceptions believe that they’re only getting back what was rightfully theirs in the first place. The very, very few exceptions left have errors in their brain circuitry that block their learning about such a thing as real, as opposed to public, consequences. These people are called sociopaths, and there seems to be no help for them. Everybody’s scared, you know. Everybody, to some extent or another. Trembling, Peter” - Ask Peter Tork (x)

[my-little-loverboy]

TWs: Talk of pedophillia, child abuse, and my frustration with the internet, purity culture, and stigma.

Please do me a favour also, and read the post to the end before saying anything to me about it. For our mutual sanity.

I am going to combust if I see another kill all pedophiles post.

Pedophile is a diagnosis that requires you to experience significant distress about your attraction. Or to have actively found a child desirable and acted on that desire. (The latter is extremely likely to be a minority but due to the stigma few are willing to voluntarily come forward to be studied)

If you think it is okay to find fictional minors attractive, but do not have interest in them irl, (ie people who consume loli/sho) you would not classify as a pedophile.

Assaulting a child you do not find attractive does not make someone a pedophile, it makes them an abuser.

Alas, purity culture has once again moved the focus away from the actual abusers and onto predominantly innocent people who genuinely do not want to harm anyone.

If you’re queer or poc or mentally ill or marginalized in any way that should sound horribly familiar.

Please for the love of god, if you’re someone who says all pedophiles deserve to die. Read the diagnostic criteria and if you still think that after you have, block me, please. Because at that point you are knowingly saying a lot of innocent people should die, as the actual abusers rarely turn out to be pedophiles.

Here, I’ll even save you the effort of finding it. This article cites the DSM directly and saves skimming the incredibly dense book that is the DSM

I can’t link it directly because that’s illegal but there’s a full copy of the DSM-5 if you search “DSM-5 Reddit” and use the top link. As of posting this the link works, if that changes let me know and I’ll update this accordingly.

Pages 697-700 for those interested in reading the full piece.

I’m not typically one to talk about my opinion of this in public because I know for a fact there’s going to be a mass of people who will do exactly what they’ve been trained by purity culture to do. React with outright disgust and horror without being willing to consider that they’ve been manipulated so that child abusers can continue to abuse children while their victims burn anyone who dares question them.

But I’m tired.

I have a lot of experience with heavily stigmatized disorders. I’m schizophrenic, autistic, and have SCPD. I’m also visibly queer + trans in a heavily conservative area. So the the idea that person with X disorder is a threat to children is very, very familiar.

I’m also a CSA victim, and it’s… Sad, watching other victims allow abusers to continue existing in the shadows while perpetuating the stigma that keeps said abusers hidden. I’m aware of my privilege as someone who is educated on the manner and as someone with the resources at my disposal along with the knowledge of how to take advantage of said resources.

I suppose that’s why I decided to actually write this out publicly. That way people who may not have otherwise known can educate themselves and form a stronger community that evicts actual abusers and not predominantly innocent people trying to recover from one of the most stigmatized disorders someone can have, or people with questionable taste in porn when more often than not said porn is harmless.

Here’s another article, this one talks in depth about whether or not fictional loli/sho nsfw actually encourages pedophillic behaviour and urges from a sociology perspective. With papers and stats to back up it’s points.

It also talks about whether or not loli/sho can even be considered pedophillic at all, along with the general impact of porn on sexual violence. It’s a very good and informative read if you have the time.

It ALSO acknowledges bias in the studies it cites, and how that makes the opinion drawn from the study less valuable.

Gods this is long, take a snack, and have the day you deserve /neutral

🍮🍪🍩🍎🍟

[decepti-thots]

I was in the tumblr tf fandom for a hot second a few years ago and i just wanted to ask, is it still really aggressive here? because back then there was a lot of shipping drama, there were a few callout posts going around (can't really remember about what) and just...a lot of bad stuff. I personally had someone tell me to kill myself because I liked one of the villains. guess I'm just wondering if, in your opinion, things have chilled out? Cuz I'd like to get back into it but I'm a little hesitant;;;

I'm going to try and give the fullest answer I can in the best faith to this! For context, this blog is a couple years old now, I have enough followers that I get a lot of active engagement on my posts etc, I am very active in TF fandom here, Twitter, and IRL, and while I did not used to be active I have been lurking in TF fandom as long as I have been on Tumblr.

There is absolutely still some toxicity; all fandoms have their bad faith actors, their drama hounds, their shipping Diskhorsers TM. I have gotten hate mail, I know folks who have issue with weird anon haters who are persistent, whatever. But no, it is not as bad as it has been in the past, IMO, not at ALL, and it is 100% possible to have an active, sociable and nice time in this fandom so long as you curate your engagement, with basically no drama at all. Many of the worst folks burned out and left when the fandom got less active and their shitstirring paid lesser and lesser dividends, IME.

People sometimes ask how I maintain such a vocal presence without falling into the still-there drama, and I have some advice that I promise you will mitigate like, 99% of the possible issues you could encounter:

Block whenever you feel like blocking. If you get a bad vibe, if you just don't personally like someone and don't wanna see them, if you see them throwing what looks like a temper tantrum you don't want in on, just block 'em. Remember: blocking is nothing personal towards the person you are blocking. It is not insulting and doesn't need to be 'earned'. Block every single person you think not blocking might even just theoretically cause stress or drama. (I am blocked by several people for reasons no more serious than 'I hate your OTP', and I commend every one of them for doing it and having a better time on this site!)

Delete any and all anon hate. Block anyone and everyone who sends you hate. No exceptions. No witty comebacks. No takedowns. Nothing. You see it and the actual literal second you do, you block and delete. None of it is worth one second of your time. Deprived of the oxygen, they will leave. And you won't be tempted to re-read it and stress out.

In that same vein, if it causes issues, just turn anon off! Turn it off. Personally I keep it on because I simply do not care about the odd troll, but if you care even slightly? Fuck 'em, turn it off, anon is a privilege your followers need to earn by acting in good faith.

Find people you like and follow them, ignore blatant shitstirring in the maintags (again: block people!) and try to curate content and follows and mutuals based on what you do like and not what you don't. Curate positive engagement; do not rely on the general fandom slurry, find what you like and hang out in your own corner of things that bring you joy. If the maintag stresses you out: don't check it. Check the blogs of folks you know are cool instead. Stuff like that.

Fandom should be fun. Fandom should be finding people you like and sharing good times with them, not stressing about avoiding folks you hate, or who hate you. Tumblr lets you moderate how you engage, when, and where more than almost any current social media site; now you can even turn off reblogs and oh my GOD is that a lifesaver function btw. If you want, you can make your blog unsearchable! It means you will need to be more proactive in making friends. But TF fandom is pretty tight knit these days, and folks want to talk a lot of the time. You'll still be able to engage with cool people.

There's way less aggro losers around these days, but more to the point, you can absolutely avoid the ones that still insist on being annoying and starve them out without much effort, tbh.