#The whole thing is just calling out modern society

[quathxr]

what if the Odyssey is just a dude in an office job who’s daydreaming about going home to his wife and son.

[communistkenobi]

I was looking for a book recently on an online storefront and was recommended a book written by a physicist about the history of humanity. this was a popular press book that was not intended to be read by other academics, but it reminded me of this niche genre of books, with experts from the physical sciences writing about human behaviour or history or what have you. Could you imagine coming across the inverse? A popular press book that purported to explain physics written by a historian?

There is some deep imbalance in how public perceptions of “general intelligence” seem to work - those in STEM are generally recognised for their competence, expertise, and intellectual acumen, and this recognition can be generalised, that at some level a demonstration of your expertise of eg astrophysics is a demonstration of your abilities of investigation writ large, that you have figured out some central underlying element of science that allows for basically limitless intellectual extension to any field or subject. A physicist can write a book about human history and be taken seriously by the general public on the assumption that physics is more difficult to understand than history, so any lower domain of investigation is open to them. The reverse is often not extended to a lot of the social sciences, particularly the theoretically-heavy social sciences; theory is just making bullshit up at the end of the day, it has no real practical application because any questions about the philosophy of thought or knowledge - how did we come to know what we know and under what conditions do we know these things - is just the indulgent wankery of people who can’t find a real job.

And of course it would be silly to insist that because you have read Hegel, an infamously difficult thinker, you know how to interpret the lab print-outs of electrochemists - I don’t want this goofy concept of general intelligence to be applied everywhere, I want it to go away entirely, but its current uneven applications across scientific fields indicates a broader problem with public conceptions of expertise and knowledge.

This probably has something to do with anti-communism on some level - social science is not generally regarded as “real science” (in no small part because social science is often the field of bureaucrats, and while animosity towards bureaucrats is deeply sympathetic, I suspect the reasons for this animosity are not themselves scientifically grounded), that while there is a public understanding of “objective facts” that exist prior and external to human interpretation, the politics of knowledge are hegemonically oriented around liberalism, to such an extent that any critique of the assumptions of knowledge are viewed as a dogmatic denial of reality done for the purposes of political infiltration and brainwashing. And I don’t feel totally unqualified to say this, given that this is basically the de facto response from students encountering Marxism for the first time in university. “Marx is too dogmatic” may as well be inscribed above the doors to lecture halls. Hell, Jordan Peterson made a nice little public career for himself railing against “post-modern neo-Marxism,” a phrase so nonsensical that the fact he was not immediately and permanently laughed out of the public arena for saying it is an indictment of how politically illiterate we are as a society!

And the infuriating thing is that a lot of social science scholarship (not just from the US but especially from the US) is complete horseshit, just pure evil garbage motivated solely by a desire to justify the fact that we do really need to keep killing tens of thousands of people a year to keep this whole party going. Every sociologist who calls themselves a “methodological individualist” is contributing to the long-standing tradition of eugenics scholarship but is too craven and vain to admit to this. If you had to describe the sum-total of the social scientific scholarly output of the west in a word, it would be ‘mysticism.’ Because it is the case that anti-colonial, anti-imperial, and anti-capitalist investigations of the political-economic conditions of the world have produced social scientific knowledge on par with the discovery of the atom, but it is not treated as such. “It is right to rebel” is not just a moral claim about violence but a scientific summary of human history.

But I think it is precisely this reactionary state of affairs that makes people devalue the social sciences as an actual site of legitimate investigation, that understanding the historical trajectory of ideas or the political conditions of life are valuable pursuits for any just society. Because social science deals with the social world, the political conditions under which the social world is investigated and understood are themselves bound up in questions of political and economic power. But this equally extends to the physical sciences - I know at least in environmental sciences, there is an ever-growing reckoning with climate change as an imminent threat to all life on earth, and environmental scientists cannot avoid talking about the political conditions of our planet even if all they want to do is study a river. Genocide is measurable in soil samples taken in the American continent. The separation of the environmental from the social is itself a historically contingent arrangement of knowledge.

But this is infuriating to even complain about because I don’t want to sound like an entitled academic or ego-bruised professional. I have no desire to start a faculty war with the STEM fields. I feel secure in my own expertise. I do not want anyone to “recognise my greatness” I am just profoundly lonely in this whole affair. and it just so happens that we exist in terribly anti-intellectual conditions for the most cruel and ugly reasons possible, and so we (me, I) have to suffer seeing books on sale claiming to give a general account of human history written by a physicist

[autolenaphilia]

The cultural feminist ideological objections to pornography and kink are just bad feminist theory. If you want to learn about cultural feminism ,you can read this post of mine, or (preferably) Alice Echols. Like it’s all fundamentally comes from a rejection of material analysis in favor of idealism. “Misogyny in pornographic media causes misogyny in society” is like the definition of idealistic analysis, a complete reversal of material analysis.

This is the major theoretical problem of 70s American cultural feminism, which is what made being anti-pornography/kink a central part of feminist activism. They as a rule substituted material analysis for a crude biodeterminism that among other things explained men’s sexual violence as caused by the uncontrollably strong and rapacious sex drive that biology had given them. And accordingly pornography and kink is dangerous because the simulated violence in it stimulates this dangerous male sex drive, causing them to commit real sexual violence.

It’s a measure of their theoretical ineptitude that the cultural feminists still call their biodeterminism “material analysis” because wombs and dicks are made of matter. It’s also why they when challenged, respond with fallacies, like personal attacks about how “you only defend pornography because you masturbate to it” or appeals to common sense.

And of course this viewpoint is inherently transmisogynistic. Their bio-esssentialist understanding of sex/gender inevitably lead to that. And the cultural feminists of the 70s were to a woman transmisogynists, and saw their struggle against trans women’s inclusion in feminism and pornography and kink as the same struggle. There is no non-transmisogynistic anti-porn/kink feminism, because the ideological taproots of that and the feminist transmiosgyny of the last 50 years are very much the same. The transmisogynist caricature of transfems as “porn-brained fetishists” who transition as a kink thing inspired by porn is just another inspiration of how linked these beliefs are.

A cursory glance of the anti-porn and anti-kink posters on this very site proves that point. They are often open self-identified terfs. If they claim to be transfem allies, they will gladly participating in the transmisogynist callout culture fandom of this site. Saying you do not condemn trans women as a whole doesn’t matter much when you callout transfem after transfem once they displease you.

The frequent callouts of transfems for having controversial kinks is just another iteration of the cultural feminism of the 70s. Because coupled with depiction of male sexuality as violent, comes a idealization of women’s sexuality as loving and non-violent. And it must be protected from being perverted by male forms of sexuality such as porn and kink. Anti-porn/kink feminism is more about policing female sexuality than it is about controlling the male. The 70s/80s anti-kink feminist movement’s greatest struggle was against lesbian s/m.

Here this intersects with the idea of the trans women as male infiltrators, because we are seen as smuggling “male sexuality” into women’s spaces to subvert them. We are “making lesbians like dick” or bringing in our “male energy” or “male socialization.” And what the modern transmisogynist callouts like “this transfem fetishizes incest, they must be destroyed” is just another version of this. They are pointing us out as the perverted and predatory male infiltrators smuggling dangerous male sexuality into womanhood. It’s all just reiterating nonsense from American feminism’s era of decline in the mid 1970s.

[psychotrenny]

I don't think "Fascist" is a very useful or accurate thing to call Caesar and his Legion (from Fallout: New Vegas) in the context of the game world itself. Like there are a lot of aesthetic similarities and basically all of their unironic real world fans are some sort of Nazi Nerd, but when talking about their place within the context of fictional post-nuclear Nevada it just doesn't work. Like Caesar's whole deal is that he's a Social Scientist who, living in a world that's been "blasted back to the Stone Age", figures that society must evolve through the same stages if it wants to properly return to modernity. The Legion is basically comprised of "Primitive Communists"* who've been forced into a Slave Society. His criticisms of the NCR boil down to them being a moribund remnant of/reversion to Old World Capitalism rather than something organically adapted to the post-Nuclear world. He repeatedly talks about how the Legion isn't meant to represent an ideal society but simply a stepping stone onto something better (the thesis that will clash with it's antithesis and evolve into a superior synthesis). His interactions with the Courier heavily imply that the Legion's Misogyny, Homophobia, Tech aversion etc. are much more tools of social organisation and control than values that Caesar personally holds. The Legion isn't just some band of mindlessly violent reactionaries but the product of very deliberate Social Engineering; a peculiarly post-nuclear sort of scientifically planned society

Now I'm not defending the Legion as a "good" choice or anything; Caesar's plan has a lot of problems, it's not hard to poke holes into and in terms of unadulterated cruelty The Legion is easily the most morally repugnant of the main factions. But the thing I really love about The Legion is how, within the specific context of Fallout's setting, it makes sense. Like once you really think about it you can understand why someone in Edward Sallow's position would arrive at these conclusions, and there are good reasons why (if you take your roleplaying seriously and don't treat the Player Character as an extension of yourself) someone living in this world might chose to side with him. The Legion may be terrible but it's not evil for the sake of evil; there's genuinely a compelling ideology behind it.

It's why I get sad when I see so many people dismiss them as the "dum dum fascist slavers" because there's so much more to them than that. Like I think the best part about The Legion is how ridiculous they first appear ("These raiders dress like Ben-Hur extras?????) but once you find out more about them then it all starts to click ("Oh I see their leader is trying to assimilate them into a distinct and alien culture in order to maintain their loyalty; severing their previous connections and giving them a whole new identity"). So it sucks to see so many people get caught up in the first part and never make enough connections to reach the second. Like in general, Fallout: New Vegas is very messy and flawed and yet it's full of all these interesting little nuances and I think that's worth appreciating it. It's why, time and time again, I keep walking down that dusty road

*in the very broad sense that Fallouts "Tribals" are meant to represent people who have reverted back to some sort of pre-state society; of course there are countless problems with how Fallout treats this matter (including but not limited to incredible amounts of racism) but in order to understand Caesar we're forced to meet the game on it's terms

[endless-ineffabilities]

Maroon (part six)

modern!Aemond Targaryen x f!reader

themes/warnings: angst, depiction of trauma/injury, mutual pining, language, avoidant Aemond

word count: 3.9k

series masterlist ▪︎ main masterlist

The Dragonstone ball came and went. Aemond and the reader are no closer to reconciling. Aemond's personal battles threaten to get the best of him, and there is only one person he thinks of turning to.

Aemond had begun to severely dislike his weekends. 

His stomach churns as he lies motionless under the sterile white hospital lights, feeling more like a lab experiment than a person. The surgeon, a man who face Aemond could now recognise in his nightmares, hovers over him again, poking and prodding as if inspecting a faulty machine.

After four months, the process was routine, almost mechanical. Aemond hated every second of it. 

No matter how many times they examined his injuries, one thing remained glaringly clear – he would never be as he once was. The cold, clinical truth he had been avoiding finally settled like a dead weight on his chest. He would never regain sight in his left eye. Ever.

Aemond’s stitches had been removed earlier than expected, the result of the extensive, borderline-experimental treatments his mother had ensured that he underwent. Her desperation to fix him bordered on obsession – nothing but the best surgeons, the most cutting-edge procedures, were made available to her son. ‘Nothing but the best for the Prince of the City’, they would say. And Aemond knew it wasn’t really for his sake. He had to be perfect. He had to be fixed.

A Targaryen heir couldn’t walk around looking all deformed, not in this family, not in this city. Yet no amount of money or prestige could make him whole again. The best the world had to offer still wasn’t enough.

He clenches his jaw, his body completely tense under the surgeon’s touch. The treatment felt less like healing and more like a futile attempt to erase the ugly truth. He felt wronged, betrayed even. He was so used to being in control, or at least, having some semblance of it. It was the only way he could bury the darkness within – the bitterness, the anger. But he has no control left. Now he is the one who bends to everyone’s will.

His mother demanded justice for him. She wanted Luke relieved of his seat at Dragonstone, and inheritance of Driftmark. At the very least, she argued, the boy should be demoted for a time or sent away to learn the error of his ways. Viserys would have none of it. According to him, both Aemond and Lucerys were equally at fault. Just boys being boys. Yet, nine times out of ten in the weeks following the accident, Viserys frequented Lucerys’ hospital suite accompanied by his precious firstborn Rhaenyra. 

Aemond barely saw him. He normally wouldn’t care; he trained himself not to. But nothing was right. He didn’t deserve any of this. Luke would limp for months, and that’s it, but Aemond lost his fucking eye. He felt that childish angst resurging inside him, and he knew he was no longer in control.

He recalls the Dragonstone Ball, the night from a week prior when he’d finally emerged after months of hiding, his public reappearance carefully orchestrated to show that Aemond Targaryen was still here, still powerful, still beautiful. He tried to convince himself that he had come to terms with everything – a plain-faced lie. The crowd, the so-called elite of society, had clamoured at the sight of him. They had been shocked, though not in the way he’d expected. They hadn’t recoiled at his injuries. Some had barely seemed to notice. 

It wasn’t as bad as they thought.

That had been the general statement. Whispers circulating the Valyrian hall, their astonishment turning to confusion. Why had he stayed away for months? Why all the secrecy? He looks fine, he heard them murmur, their eyes barely lingering on the faint scar on the side of his face. 

Some even saw his appearance in a twisted light, and deemed it as an enhancement to his aura. But they didn’t care about him, not really. They saw a carefully curated image, a version of Aemond that fit neatly into the narrative of a rebellious, aristocratic heir who felt the need to challenge his younger nephew into a game of chicken, only to pay for it dearly. Some had even dared to call him The Dark Prince of the City, a new title he loathed. 

What a relief it must be for everyone that he was only a little bit fucked up. How fucking fantastic. To them, his injury was cosmetic, an insignificant blemish on a life still dripping with wealth, status, and power. It doesn’t matter that there is an aching emptiness inside of him, a sense of loss and injustice that stretches far beyond the physical damage. It doesn’t matter that he can barely look at himself in the mirror. It doesn’t matter that he can’t allow himself to be with you.

But it does. It all does. 

He closes his eye, his mind drifting back to the night of the ball, when he last held you in his arms. When he last tasted you. Oh sweet seven hells, the way you melted unto him. The way you felt… 

I can wait, you promised. But how is that fair? Is there even anything left of him for you to keep waiting for?

“It’s almost time for us to have an ocular prosthesis put in,” the surgeon says casually, as if making small talk about the fucking weather. “Your mother has already vetted some top-of-the-line models, I’m sure you’d be pleased – ”

Oh, will he? The best prosthetic eye, was it? Gods, this must be what winning the lottery must be like.

“ – or she also mentioned that we could go about the traditional route? Apparently, it had been custom to have gemstones installed in place of – ” 

"I don't care," Aemond snaps, cutting the surgeon off mid-sentence. Without waiting for a response, he pushes himself up from the reclined seat. He knows the surgeon’s sudden shift to small talk signals the end of the session. It always does.

"We're finished?" he says, not bothering to hide the bite in his tone. "Good. Cheers, doc."

“Wait, Aemond, remember to regularly apply the ointment – ” 

“Yes, yes, I know,” Aemond says rushedly, barely glancing at the surgeon as he walks to the door. “Oh, and that’s Sir Aemond to you. We’re not friends.”

In the week following the ball, you find yourself slipping back into the familiarity of your routine. Hours spent poring over your dissertation with your supervisor, extra shifts at the bookstore, and meetups with Jace that often blurred into late-night conversations over coffee. You threw yourself into distractions, eager to escape the lingering effects of that eventful night, but the high was hard to shake off.

For a night, you felt like you were floating on clouds. Everything had aligned so perfectly – Jace had been the ideal partner, Baela’s custom gown made you feel like royalty, and the ball itself was something from another world entirely. Things couldn’t have gone better. 

You could have gone with Aemond. But that doesn’t matter now. 

He made his choice – one that had been crystal clear until it wasn’t. Until he’d pulled you out of the ball, and kissed you with such fierce intensity that your legs nearly gave out beneath you. 

He avoided you, but also stalked you. Dropped you as his partner to the ball, but sought you out during it with an emotion in his eyes you couldn’t fully decipher. 

Is that emotion the very same that you feel? Perhaps it was only momentary, and the next time you see him, his gaze will display cold indifference. Aemond is fire, and then he’s ice, keeping you in a state of uncertainty. What you have with him is suspended in limbo – you told him you would wait, and you plan to make good on your word. 

It’s because of him that you refused Cregan when he texted you – your number practically offered up to him on a  silver platter by Jace – and asked if you wanted to ‘have dinner some time’. You said you were having a particularly busy week, so maybe a rain check? You weren’t exactly lying. You did keep very busy – intentionally or not, it doesn’t matter. But as you sit on your worn-out couch, research papers strewn on the coffee table after hours of struggling to break ground on your dissertation, the idea of having dinner with the handsome Stark seemed all the more tempting.

That when you hear it – a faint knock at your door. 

Living alone has never given you much anxiety before, and you didn’t think it would start tonight. But who could be knocking at your door past midnight, when you hadn’t buzzed anyone in? You were never on close terms with your neighbours, either. 

You sit on your couch looking like a deer in headlights, staring at the door like it’s supposed to silence the knocking.

When did you get so wary? It could be Jace. Maybe Helaena. But then again, they’re not the type to show up unannounced. And besides, if it were them, you’d have already – 

Aemond’s voice calls out your name, partially calming your racing mind. 

You sense hesitance in his tone. Almost embarrassed. Like he knows he shouldn’t be here. 

“Aemond?” You find your voice, and move quickly to the door. As you open it, the question is on the tip of your tongue – What the hell are you doing here? – but the words stick in your throat.

“Hi, darling,” he says weakly, exhaustion etched in his voice. “I didn’t know where else to go.”

Something resembling a gasp escapes your lips when he turns his head slightly, revealing the fresh bruise blossoming beneath his right eye, a vicious mix of maroon and violet. The skin is split, blood dried along the cut, though his eye itself looks unharmed. 

“Aemond, what – ”

“Can I come in?” he interrupts, his voice barely a whisper. “Please.”

He walks past you as you step aside, his eye trained on you the whole time. A newly-arrived guest in your home and he has already claimed the space, his presence intoxicating. The air feels heavier, as if your modest apartment has shifted to accommodate someone like him. Or maybe it was just the effect he has on you, what do you know?

You gesture for him to take a seat, anywhere he’d like, and he waits until you settle right next to him before he visibly relaxes. The tension in his body eases, and his shoulders drop as he glances down. It becomes apparent to him how battered he must look. 

He starts to say, “I’m sorry for coming over unannounced – ”

“What the fuck happened, Aemond?” you cut him off, your sharp tone making him flinch. He swallows nervously, eyes darting away before he responds. 

“I got into… an altercation. Nothing to worry about, really – ”

His nonchalance is grating to you, frustrating you to no end. How can he say that, when the skin below his good eye is an angry colour it should never be in? “Nothing to worry about? Look at you! Gods, why am I just sitting here… I have to get the first-aid kit – ”

You start to stand, but his hand shoots out, grabbing yours with surprising gentleness. “It’s fine. Just... sit with me?”

He’s not being fair, using that tone with you. His question reminds you of the first time Helaena brought you to their penthouse. She needed to pick something up from downstairs, when Aemond had wandered into the living room, a book tucked under his arm. “This is my brother Aemond!” she exclaimed at the sight of him. “Aemond, this is my new official best friend. Don’t scare her off! I’ll only be a minute.”

You’d stood awkwardly, watching Helaena leave, and when you finally turned back to Aemond, he was already lounging in a plush chair, a knowing smirk playing on his lips.

“You know you can sit with me, if you’d like,” he had called out. “Promise I don’t bite.”

He had kept that promise – literally, at least. His bite stung far more – he drew you in, made you fall for him, and just when you thought things seemed too good to be true, he ices you out and avoids you for months. 

But sure, Aemond didn’t bite. 

You ignore his plea, pulling your hand from his. The expression on his face morphs into disappointment, but you force yourself not to dwell on it. If he’s offended, it can most certainly wait until his injury is dealt with. 

“I’m getting the first aid kit,” you say firmly, before disappearing into the bathroom. When you return, he is leaning forward, head held in both hands like he’s burdened by a migraine.

A fresh surge of panic rises in your chest. You sit next to him, clutching the small first-aid kit, suddenly feeling like it’s far from enough. “Aemond, you should probably go to a hospital. You might have a concussion or something – ”

“I don’t,” he says flatly.

“How can you be sure?” You reach for his face, gently turning it toward you. Pulling out a disinfectant wipe, you start dabbing at the bruise. He tries to hold still, but every wince betrays the pain he’s trying so hard to hide. 

“Got hit in the face, not in the head,” he says matter-of-factly.

“Okay, smartass.” you reply, still unconvinced. Your nose scrunches at his tone, and his lips tug at the sight. He’s grateful that at least his lip wasn’t split – he knows you’d make things far more difficult for him if he had to resist the urge to kiss you. Especially with the way your reactions are always so damn adorable.

You apprehensively apply antiseptic to a cotton pad, dabbing it over his bruise. “I don’t know if this is enough, Aemond, we really should call someone… Helaena – ”

“It’s fine, darling. I’ve been through much worse,” he says coldly, and your face falls at his insinuation. You’re afraid to know just how much worse – what he went through, what he still could be going through. He reaches for your knee, and squeezes gently as a gesture of reassurance. “I’m sorry. But trust me, I’ll be fine.”

You shoot him a look of disbelief. He’s comforting you? It almost feels absurd – he’s the one who looks like he ran face first into a pole, yet here he is, acting like it’s no big deal. 

“Tell me what happened,” you demand, putting the contents of the first aid kit back with an audible snap of plastic.

Aemond hesitates, jaw clenching as he tries to find the right words. You can already tell that he’s going to try to downplay it. He says, “I, uhhh, got into a fight, I suppose.”

“What, you just felt like it?” you say bitterly. Ever since you’ve known him, Aemond has always been the most composed out of all his siblings. But it seems as if another Aemond came out the night of the accident. If you don’t look close enough, you would think he has changed completely. But you do, and you know that your Aemond is still in there somewhere.

He doesn’t answer right away. If he were to say he never feels like breaking things, like letting it all spiral out of control, he’d be lying through his teeth. “You should see the other guy,” he replies, leaning back with a cocky smirk that you just want to wipe right off his lips.

With your own.

“It’s not funny,” you mutter, lightly slapping his arm, and he puts on an exaggerated grimace.

“Don’t hit me. I’m already injured,” he playfully scolds. 

You sigh deeply. The boy isn’t making any of this easy. “Who did this to you? Who… who did you – ” Your face contorts into obvious worry, and he exhales sharply, his eyes flickering with distaste.

“Not Lucerys,” he sneers. “You don’t need to worry about your little friend. One of Alys’ degenerate friends at the club. Must have been a Greyjoy. He certainly smelled like one.”

The callousness of his tone, the way he spits the words without a second thought, feels wrong. You’ve heard Aemond make cutting remarks before, but they were always sharp, witty, delivered with a certain sensitivity. Now, it’s like he doesn’t care who he hurts.

“You got into a fight because… you wanted to defend Alys, is that it?” 

“No, gods.” He immediately shakes his head at the notion. “She had nothing to do with it. She left early… she wasn’t even there by that point.”

“Then what?”

The truth of it was, he heard the news of Lucerys’ early induction into the board at Driftmark, like some hero’s welcome. Lucerys, the Velaryon heir, rewarded for his resilience, for living through what nearly destroyed Aemond. His grandfather Corlys, being the CEO, had always doted on him – the raven-haired grandson who didn’t bear the slightest resemblance to him nor to his late son Laenor. 

Lucerys was treated like the golden child. And Aemond… Aemond was left to lick his own wounds in the shadows. 

So Aemond heard the news, and went on a bender. It was nothing if not immature. He knows it. But he hates that he can’t just let it go, that he can’t turn the other cheek like he’s supposed to.

“They said some idiotic things,” he mutters finally, his tone hollow, “and things got unruly. Next thing you know – ” He clicks his tongue, shrugging as if it’s no big deal.

“You just threw yourself into a fight? For what? To feel something?”

“I don’t want to talk about it, darling,” he says, his voice flat. Your frustration reaches its peak, and you wordlessly walk to the kitchen to retrieve several ice cubes, wrapping them in a clean hand towel to create a makeshift cold compress.

When you hand it to him, he just looks at you with brows raised. “Press it against your face,” you explain, your voice clipped but calm.

He looks amused, and he hovers the compress over his bruise for a mere second, before dropping it on the couch beside him, shaking his head. “I’ll pass,” he says, his tone dismissive.

“Just do it, Aemond.”

“It’ll cover my fucking eye,” he mutters, his voice breaking. “and I want to be able to see you. I want to… look at you.” He shifts uncomfortably, gesturing vaguely to his eyepatch. “As you can tell, this one is permanently out of commission.”

His vulnerability chips away at your frustration. “Aemond… ” you whisper his name softly, as his gaze burns through you. “You don’t have to act like this doesn’t bother you. You can be hurt, you can be angry. You can feel whatever it is you’re feeling. Just don’t shut me out.”

His jaw clenches, but his gaze doesn’t leave yours. “I’m not shutting you out.”

“Right. Sure,” you reply, unable to help the sarcasm. “Then stop brushing me off when I try to help you.”

He exhales sharply, his shoulders stiffening. “I don’t need you to fix me.”

“I’m not trying to fix you, Aemond,” you snap, but your voice cracks under the strain. “I’m trying to be here for you. There’s a difference. Why can’t you see that?”

“Because it’s not that simple!” His voice rises, sharp and biting, his frustration finally matching yours. “You can’t just magically undo what I’m going through. Who I am –”

“That’s not what I’m trying to do,” you shoot back. “I know I can’t make everything better, but I’m here and – ”

“You shouldn't have to stay,” he mutters, quieter this time. “It would be easier for you if you let me go.”

“You don’t get to decide what’s easier for me, Aemond,” you say, voice trembling with emotion. The silence stretches between you, and for a moment, you think he might actually let you in. 

But then he stands abruptly. “I shouldn’t have come,” he mutters, pacing the room. “This was a mistake.”

“Then why did you, Aemond?” you ask, standing too, your heart pounding in your chest. This was not how you expected your cluttered little night-in to go.

“Because… because of you!”

“Me? I have done nothing but try to help you, even when you push me away… I wait for you, and I keep waiting and – ”

“Why?” He leans over you, tilting his head. “Why wait? I can’t deal with what you seem to expect of me. I can see it in your eyes. How can you look at me like that?”

“Enlighten me,” you challenge, stepping closer. “Like what?”

“Like… I’m better than I am.” Like I’m good. “I’m not. I would ruin you.”

“And yet, here you are,” you insist. “You came here. You sought me out.”

He looks away, jaw clenching again. “I shouldn’t have. Alys would have taken me in, tucked me into bed without all this questioning. Not… whatever this is.”

Your throat clenches at his words, and you have to swallow back the pathetic sob that nearly rises out of you. “Is that what you want? Did you come here for a pat on the back and quick roll in the hay? Is that how you see me?”

“That’s not what I meant.” His eyes snap back to yours, full of anger and regret.

“I’m not going to ignore what’s happening with you, Aemond. I can’t. I care about you. You’re a lot better than you think you are. You’re good and kind and fair. But you’re just – ”

“Broken?” he interrupts, his tone biting, as though the word itself is a weapon.

“Aemond – ”

“Am I just a fixer-upper to you then, darling? A project for your brilliant mind?”

“That’s not true. You know it isn’t. You’re lashing out on me, and I just want to help you!”

“I don’t want your help.” His words are clipped, final, made clear over and over. But you don’t back down.

“Then what – ”

“I just want you,” he confesses, the words tumbling out of him like something precious. You stay silent, trying to process his words.

He continues, his voice growing more pained. “That’s just me. I’m fucked in the head for wanting impossible things. I want you to stop looking at me like I’m still the Aemond you used to know. Maybe that Aemond was never even real. I want you to stop wanting to fix me. And I… I just want you to love me.” 

You say nothing for a while, your chest rising and falling, betraying your erratic breathing. He says in finality, “Like I said – impossible.”

“It’s not impossible,” you find your voice, your eyes never leaving his. 

“What?”

“It’s real, Aemond. And quite frankly, it’s driving me insane,” you admit, feeling braver than you ever have before.

“Darling – ”

“You want me to love you?” you ask, your voice steady despite the chaos of the evening. “Well, you have it.”

He shakes his head slightly, like he’s trying to shake off your words. “You don’t actually mean that – ”

“I love you, idiot.”

“You love me,” he echoes, the words tentative, like he doesn’t quite believe it. He looks at you, like he’s seeing you for the first time. “I don’t think I’ve ever understood you,” he murmurs, almost to himself.

“Just what every girl wants to hear,” you tease, a small, weary smile breaking through the tension.

But Aemond isn’t smiling. He’s still staring at you, his hand twitching like he wants to reach out but doesn’t quite know how. “You love me?”

“Aemond.” You can only nod, growing unsure of yourself. Is this him realising that he doesn’t actually mirror your sentiment? Fire and ice – he wants your love, but can’t love you back.

In the heaviest of silences, you do what you’ve expertly done thus far. 

You wait. 

Series taglist (comment below to be added): @caught-in-the-afterglow @aemondtargaryensrider @punggo66 @dollfaceyourfear @candypurplebutterfly @moonmaiden1996 @mxrgodsstuff @lolitaisreal @blue-serendipity @melsunshine @thejanecampaign @fxngsfxgxrty @padfooteyes @msmarvel-19 @tempo-rary-fix @lauraneedstochill @julczimozart @sarcasticfangirl @witchyv @pyjama-shorts @bellaisasleep @zillahvathek @thincrusttheworks @krispold @yougotthatlove @raging-panda @fleetingly-artistic @throughgoeshamilton @polireader @katsav17 @minttea07 @kravitzwhore @meggiemay82 @hedonefox @daenysx @schniiipsel @namoreno @afro-hispwriter @aemondswifeisme @emcharra @malfoytargaryen @iiamthehybrid @fullmetalriotts @kellzlib @justsumtuffstuff @daydreamy-me @yentroucnagol @kezibear @queenofshinigamis @paprikaquinn (continued in comments...)

Some notes in the margins...

Maroon is back! Grateful to all of you lovely readers who waited 🖤

The suspense at the end! Gah!!! If I'm honest, I hit a wall right there. Does the night culminate in heated passion? Is it the right time? Would it be good for either of them?

I'm sure you'll know my decision from the first passage of part seven 😆

As always, I am eager to hear from yous!

[bulbabutt]

okay. lets bite the bullet and talk about 2012. lets talk about child abuse, familial abuse, generational abuse, toxic family units, whatever you wanna call it. lets talk about it and whether it exists in this show. i actually encourage you to read this no matter what your take is, just to hear it out. let me be FUCKING clear: i love this show, but i get scared to talk about it seriously. everyone on every side is defensive all the time but i love every turtles show to no end.

this post is going to go over so well and not controversially at all.

precursor: every splinter is some level of shitty dad. he always has been. the fucking bare bones of the character is that he raised his children to kill the man who killed his own father. thats inherently fucked up. every splinter has some level of fucked up about him. maybe hes inattentive, or neglectful, or strict, or secretive, maybe hes just not very good at dealing with his kids. splinter is supposed to be far from perfect. thats what makes him splinter. maybe he grows over the course of a series, maybe he doesnt. maybe hes supposed to be shitty his whole life, maybe hes not. thats just splinter. each is adapted differently depending on the story being told.

and 2012 has a very interesting tone to its story.

lets start at the beginning, back in japan. this is season 3, was this story what they intended when they started writing the show back in season 1? probably not, theres probably things they would have written differently had they known this was where splinter's story started. thats kind of the way tv works, you add the details later. but for our sake of analyzing the character of splinter as a whole, it seems best to start here as if its all intentional.

hamato yoshi is a member of the hamato clan. theyre a very traditional old ninja clan in the modern world, they have old feuds and theyre trying to keep their culture alive. they're literally the last of a clan of ninjas like this, having (supposedly) defeated the foot clan (their generational enemies) back when yoshi was a baby. hes set out to lead next, and its very important to him. and yet hes married to a woman who works in the city, a modern woman who doesnt live the life he does. she even moved to be with him. i feel the need to compare this to how men in the real world who want traditional wives never go for women who are willing to be their housewives, always try to break down the independent ones. splinter seems unconcerned with how his wife wants to live. with how she wants their daughter to be raised.

im not necessarily saying this is how this comes off in the show, but i find it interesting to think about. this is absolutely the most rounded version of tang shen as a character (thus far) it stops her being just a name on a page "hamato yoshi's love and the object of his enemies affections who died" and turns her into a woman who has a stake in the story. gives her more agency.

its very interesting that this show implies an actual relationship between tang shen and oroku saki, albeit a one-sided one that didnt work out, but they do seem to have parted on equal ground. the pair of them discuss yoshi's inattentive duties as a husband and father, that he's too obsessed with the tradition and lineage of his clan. honestly, if this woman just took her baby and left no one would blame her! he has his priorities set, and it leaves no room for her and their newborn baby. if she ran away with saki at this point, the story would make just as much sense.

but then disaster strikes, saki learns the truth about his family, that he was actually a child of the foot clan (honestly i wish we saw this play out instead of jumping ahead in the story but thats not what this post is about) and he kills he and yoshi's father. revenge for him having killed his. cycles of abuse and revenge that never end. the pair of them were raised in this society that values lineage like this, that would kill for it. its no wonder they both grew up this way.

anyway, tang shen is killed by a blow meant for yoshi, and saki takes their child and raises her. based on splinter's lack of desire to be a father so far in the story, its honestly not one you can blame him for. its fucked up, but it makes sense. saki does to miwa exactly what his father did to him. cycles of abuse and revenge.

yoshi loses everything, and moves to america. he's turned into splinter the mutant rat, and gains four turtle sons.

so as established, he's not exactly grown up with a stable family life. he obviously, while human, wasnt acting as a stable father for the child he intended to have. so how good is he at this?

ive talked before about how the 2003 show treats the turtles as kind of one whole unit. they don't have individual relationship arcs, they dont have overarching storylines where they grow apart or closer, they're always in each other's corner.

2012 makes this more dynamic. here we see that 15 years seeing no one but each other, growing under this splinter has come with its own quirks. these brothers dont understand each other that well. they get jealous of each others treatment, some are left out, some are misunderstood. raph resents leo, none of them appreciate what donnie does, mikey bothers everyone else for attention, etc. it creates a really good starting place for this show.

(the issue i have with this show is more that they never really open or close any of these beats, at least not in ways that last. but boy does it make for some good dramatic scenes)

we see over the course of this first season that splinter treats his children just as he was, as little ninjas more so than sons. he raises them to follow his traditions, the ones tang shen never cared for. but this is all he knows how to be! you cant really blame him.

most people bring up mikey as the quintessential example when they talk about this, i dont want to do that cuz i know you've all heard it. while i think his father does disrespect him and i think it is paid forward and his brothers do too, i'd rather talk about raph for a change.

in one episode, raph loses his temper. to teach him a lesson, splinter makes his brothers pelt him in training while insulting him any way they can, and tells him to just... not lose his temper. this is a terrible lesson in general. instead of trying to coax out why he might be angry, it just plays up that if he loses his temper bad things happen.

splinter in this episode basically encourages bullying. this comes up a lot when it comes to raph. to compare, in 2003 when raph loses his temper, hes told to blow off steam which he does. his brothers don't blame him for having emotional outbursts, they know thats just how he is so they know how he needs to cope with it. he's given the physical space to let it out.

im not saying this show needs to be like that show, im just saying thats a version of this story where the outcome is better for raph as a whole. since this outcome is not as good for him emotionally, you can tell why he's still got these emotional issues. splinter never helps him more than that. thats more why this raph differs from that one, if that makes sense. one has his family in his corner more than the other.

speaking of. raph has a pet turtle. this turtle is the only one he can talk to about how he feels. why might that be? it's the only thing hes kind and gentle to, and he refuses to let his brothers make him feel weak for being kind to it. where did he learn to be ashamed of being kind and gentle? thats a learned behaviour. in a house full of other men... yeah, that would happen. but whos values start that?

when this turtle gets some mutagen spilled on it, it tries to get revenge on his family. there is such a resentment going on here, its extremely juicy. the show chalks this up to "post mutation insanity", but its just as easy to think that everything raph has experienced has made him seem angry and resentful and perhaps scared to his pet, and that former pet wants raph to himself so they can be free. the frustrated venting of a child complaining about how no one understands him in such a big way turns slash into a vengeful monster, cuz thats all he's ever heard. it makes sense, he went from a little turtle to a fully cognizant adult aged being in an instant. emotionally no one would handle that well, and definitely not someone whos only ever heard the worst about people.

he comes around later. notably by being on his own, away from the hamatos.

again, im not saying the show is writing this intentionally, but i think tonally its in the zone where you could see this analysis as being canon. that these little pieces of narrative fit the worldview of a toxic family unit that isnt dealing with its problems in a healthy way.

there's other small aspects. leo slaps mikey early on, having seen it on his favourite show be used as a way of getting someone to calm down. mikey questions this behaviour, leo seems to feel bad about it when questioned. if we know that that behaviour was bad, what other things might he emulate in a similar way?

there's things like donnie's predatory behaviour towards april. in a world where all they ever knew was splinter's stories of the outside world (and perhaps television from decades earlier), hearing splinter's story of his love for tang shen, his rivalry with his own brother over her, you could actually see why he would behave the way he does, why he claims her the way he does. not as an excuse, but as a reason he learned the behaviour. and there's multiple opportunities for his father to tell him off. he never does. why would he? he knows no better.

this splinter, unlike every other, is not old or disabled. he doesnt require a cane (at the start, but also was never a good cane) and its interesting that despite being like... a 40 year old man in the peak of his life he does not accompany his sons on missions. he sits around doing nothing and disproves of his sons heroic actions. april literally calls him out for this at one point. the show is actually telling us some of this man's behaviour is wrong.

one of the more upsetting things that happens in this household is a lot of physical hitting. "theyre training" you might say. understandable. but when you see a lot of hitting come from the father in this show, played for a laugh, when you see splinter play the "drunk master" bit it makes you think. is that okay? isnt that a bit much?

the end of the muckman episode is a freeze frame of splinter (after having knocked out all of his sons to punish them for leaving while grounded) turning his anger on april and her running away. idk thats just not funny to me. this is a bit of the dating of the show, 2012 was a time where character's in shows were meaner, less affectionate, more bullying in nature. that was the sense of humour at the time. that isnt me making a judgment, it's just kind of the era. a pre steven universe world, if that makes sense. so many of the jokes that end in a hit aren't funny in 2024. especially not when they come from a parent.

when this splinter speaks about his kids to their brothers he often ends up insulting them. "you should be like mikey, he never overthinks because he doesn't think", this would be a big reason the boys speak about each other the way they do to their faces. puts forward a bit more of that bullying thing i mentioned earlier. if their own father talks about them like this, of course their brothers do too. so of course they join in and give payback.

again. splinter wasnt raised in a normal family. he was raised in a ninja commune with a bunch of murderers. he wasn't great with his wife and baby daughter. its not surprising that he's bad at this.

so, ive just said a bunch of things about what's wrong with this household as a whole. i think ive explained why the family unit behaves the way it does: generational teachings of feuds and traditional values. i dont think this makes the show bad! i, in fact, wish there was more of it. i think theres so much low hanging fruit that the show kind of wants to play with, but cant fully bring itself to.

specific example: during the space arc on a planet thats driving all the characters emotions against each other we get this amazing scene where raph screams at leo for being splinter's favourite. leo responds by hugging him. its really well done!

however its never brought up again, never actually getting into the nitty gritty of why raph feels like that is exactly what i think makes this show resonate with so many people

its dark! it pulls at your heart strings! it makes people feel seen! we go in mikey's head at one point and see such splintered (lol) personalities in his head. he has a huge anger problem (much like raph) in there. he retreats into imagination land when stressed. the show kind of toys with "these kids are fucked up!" but never lets those character moments go anywhere. i love how fucked up this family is. its so complex, it feels real. at least real to me. i wish it went that little step further and let the characters talk about these things a little more.

maybe you have a different experience, and thats fine! but i wouldnt brush off people like me who look at 2012 and say "these dynamics make me uncomfortable". to excuse it by saying "my family is like that and we're fine" sometimes i just wanna say... <:/ are you? have you talked about that? and if that's your read on it is that its fine, thats great. but some people notice patterns and those patterns can make them uncomfortable. i hope ive explained the patterns here.

i think thats why the fandom is as big as it is. this show would lead to the most amazing deep introspective fan-works youve ever seen, it lays the pieces out so perfectly for you to draw your own conclusions about why they are this way. you cant really blame people for talking about it as if its got a way higher rating than it does. it feels like it does.

i should say, i dont even know if i blame the show on its own for leaving those pieces laying there, it was on nickelodeon. i sense studio meddling in the tone. i mean, given that the show wanted to end with the big mutant apocalypse storyline, and yet the network wanted to end it with the big 87 crossover..... yeah i think its safe to say nick would rather they keep it light.

which is funny, because i think the most controversial thing i can say is i personally love the finale arc as the mutant apocalypse. it so encapsulates my favorite part of this show. to end this show in the darkest timeline and say "even though these characters are so far removed from who they used to be and even though the entire world is over they still have each other in the end" and i find that so perfect.

so. i understand that this is always a touchy topic. i know people want to brush it off as "people say the 12 brothers are abusive to mikey but mikey is fine", and i think thats a really skewed version of it from both sides. first of all. mikey is not fine, look in that boys head. look how he copes. he's not. but also, mikey is not the only victim. they all are. these turtles are victims of their upbringing, victims of generational war. of men who didnt know how to be good fathers in the first place. and thats good writing! it feels deep! it connects!

for more context: any fucked up way you can think of karai being raised by shredder? its probably the same way here. splinter and shredder were raised the same way.

i guess i think about this a lot, cuz i always see things like "oh, rise fans write crossovers where the rise boys love each other and have to teach the 12 boys how to be nice cuz they dont like 2012!" and i just think to myself:

guys. do you understand why a person might do that? why would someone (likely a teenager) want 2012 mikey to be treated nicely by a kinder more openly affectionate version of his own family? do i need to spell that out for you? why do we connect with media at all, why do we write our own stories about it?

if you genuinely dont. i mean, im glad for you. but sometimes you wanna imagine a world in which your own family is more openly affectionate with you. where they hug and tell you theyre proud and love you and you never have to question it, never have to look elsewhere for that kind of approval. its less that they're idolizing rise, and more that they're looking at the two families and saying "this one is emotionally mature and in touch with their feelings more than that one. how would that play out?"

doctor feelings ass response.

look, im not saying everyone understands 2012, that everyone likes or needs to like it. im just trying to say that i think these fucked up parts of 2012 are all around my favourite parts of the show. its an inspiring story about this fucked up little family that has no one but each other, and they're not great about it. they try, but they don't always get it right. i just wish the show would have talked about that part more. but i think that since it doesnt people get to fill in those blanks themselves, and they do it so beautifully. and i really wish people on the internet would be more kind to one another when they wanted to discuss these darker themes they find in it.

these are the reasons i love this show. i think its so very interesting that splinter dies this fucked up father figure who never really apologized for his behaviour. i like that raph needs to be held to stop punching his brothers. that leo doesnt have a good grip on what it is to be a leader, that he tries bad ways of doing it. i like that no one copes well! i like that their relationships are so complex! this show is messy! its good! i wish it was more messy!

and id love if we could be more honest about these things and how they make us feel instead of just brushing each other off as "likes the show" or "doesnt like the show". the things that make me uncomfortable are why i love this show and i'm pretty sure i'm not alone there.

[anim-ttrpgs]

i didnt realize eureka was an urban fantasy rpg for a while and i was getting really confused as to why this noir game had vampires in it before i figured it out

I guess a lot of times we do just call it “Eureka” instead of the full title “Eureka: Investigative Urban Fantasy”..

This is also giving me an excuse to talk about “noir” and “neo-noir.” But let me preface that by saying that trying to very strictly and definitively sort things neatly into genres is often a fool’s errand, not because the whole concept of genre is useless, it’s just that it’s necessarily a bit loose and subjective. And also noir is a film genre not a TTRPG genre so there’s a bit of translation weirdness in even saying that.

Noir is actually a very specific and kinda narrows genre, which Eureka can do, but not one that it does effortlessly. Eureka is much more firmly and deliberately in the “neo-noir” genre. Neo-noir is, well, kind of Noir 2, Noir Expanded. Neo-noir is often described as more modern films which are inspired by the original genre of noir, taking those noir themes of gritty grounded storytelling, crime, morally grey protagonists, and unjust societal systems, and applying them a bit more broadly and sometimes to more fantastical scenarios. Blade Runner is often cited as a great example of a neo-noir film.

That’s where I feel Eureka falls. It doesn’t inherently deal with morally grey protagonists, but it often will, even if the player didn’t set out to make their PC morally grey it can often just happen because of the gritty groundedness of Eureka’s setting and mechanics and the inherent interaction with the aforementioned unjust societal systems. Neither noir nor neo-noir necessitate that the protagonist be a detective or even investigating anything, but even if they aren’t a detective, they often are investigating something and that leads them to morally grey situations and the seedy criminal underbelly of society propped up by unjust societal systems. Eureka is like that. Because it’s such a toolbox game and also a TTRPG, you could technically play a Eureka campaign without brushing up against any of those elements, but the way the mechanics are set up, the gameplay will always be steering you gently towards at least one of those noir-like themes.

[lizzieisright]

omega abs ? 😣

oh my fucking god yes

female alpha!reader x omega!abby

Palestine: what can you do

Summary: Abby is sure she will never meet her dream alpha after what happened with Owen. And then she meets you.

Tags: dead dove: do not eat. a/b/o universe (female alphas have dicks), modern AU, descriptions of smut (heats/ruts), Owen is a piece of shit, reader is a sweetheart. Also I'll always make Ellie and Abby friends because their dynamic cracks me up every time.

Notes: this one is genuinely weird in terms of my writing style. It's 6k long for no reason except that I wanted to see how everything will play out and build some kind of omega!abby lore. Also it was meant as a bullet point thingy like hcs, but then it got too long, so the sentences might sound weird.

If you guys want something specific with omega!abby, reqs are open.

Me: *slaps the title of the fic* this bad boy can fit a whole multichapter in it.

/-/-/-/-/-/-

There's one thing Abby knows for certain when she turns 19: she is not a typical omega.

Abby's scent is not too sweet: she smells more like fresh roses than vanilla. All other omegas have more prominent scents, and Abby sees how alphas favour them. She is insecure about her scent, and she is not too prideful to admit she wants alphas to like her. Like any other omega Abby feels pressured by society to look a certain way - and she is already tall, so she starts going to the gym to get fit, to look more attractive, to grow that bubble butt everyone's talking about. She just started university and she wants to be cool.

(Ellie tells her it's all bullshit. Ellie is her biggest supporter and she is the one who growls at other alphas when it's needed. It's hilarious, because Ellie is fucking tiny. "I'm still an alpha, Anderson!" Ellie whines usually and Abby flicks her forehead.)

The gym works: she gets more attractive. Her butt is round, her arms are toned and her shoulders balance her hips, making her waist look thinner. Abby meets Owen and she thinks he is the one. He is the first alpha she spends her heat with. And well, maybe it's not how she imagined it would be, but Abby doesn't complain. After all, perfect alphas only exist in books and movies, not in reality.

(she dreamt about feeling safe and protected with her alpha, feeling loved and taken care of. Owen is all growls and bruises.)

Ellie hates Owen's guts. There's always some sick smell when they're in the same room, and Abby is doing all she can to manage it and make two of the most important alphas in her life like each other. Owen tries to convince Abby that alphas and omegas can't be friends - and it works. Abby stops spending too much time with Ellie, tricked into thinking that Ellie actually has feelings for her. Ellie lets it happen.

(Owen is so much more violent during ruts. Abby knew this too: alphas are ruthless in ruts, but she didn't expect being borderline assaulted. Again, she doesn't complain. She is in love, and Owen knows better.)

Abby keeps going to the gym, and in time her muscles grow and show more. Abby is happy - she put so much work into her body and it shows now! She is so much stronger now, and she doesn't mind that her waist is not so tiny anymore. Abby feels powerful.

Owen, however, gets grumpier with every pound of muscle on Abby's body: he doesn't like it. He doesn't support her when she shows how much progress she made.

Then he starts joking about it. He tells her it makes her look less like omega. That she is almost as big as he is. That people won't be able to tell who is the alpha in their relationship. Abby swallows everything and starts doing more cardio. She wants Owen to be happy. She wants to be his mate one day.

And then one day Abby catches Owen with another omega.

She is small and smells like coconut, she is everything Abby isn't.

Abby wants to die.

Abby calls Ellie for the first time in months, sobbing violently. Ellie picks her up and spends the night soothing Abby, and the next day beating the shit out of Owen. Yes, she is tiny, but alpha strength is alpha strength, and Ellie is furious.

Abby doesn't really recover from this. She thought Owen would be her first and her last, but now her dreams and her self-esteem are in ruins.

Abby blames herself for Owen's cheating. She blames herself for building her body, for not being omegy enough, for having a weak scent, for not being what he wanted. 

So Abby grows distant, believing she has no worth as an omega. She avoids alphas, she doesn't recognize when someone's interested. She doesn't let herself smell other people. The only alpha she still talks to is Ellie, because Ellie is Ellie. Her best goblin friend who doesn't even react to her heats, because she is so used to Abby.

(it actually breaks Abby's heart a little: is her scent so weak it doesn't affect alphas at all?)

Her younger brother, Lev, moves to the city for university when Abby is in her graduation year, and Abby puts her energy into taking care of him. She comes to his place from time to time, bringing food or snacks for him. They have movie nights as well. It makes Abby feel less alone. Less useless.

One day Lev asks her to come to the party with him: it's his first time going to a party and he has no idea what to do, especially since there'd be really cool people who are his seniors and he doesn't want to have an egg on his face. 

"Can you ask Ellie to come as well? Please? I need more cool people on my side."

Abby laughs and makes sure Ellie is going to come. Ellie adores Lev, so she agrees immediately.

This party is on another level, Abby thinks. It's not frat bros and awful alphas like it was when Abby went to parties with Owen. This party looks like all smart and successful people in the uni decided to get piss drunk, and it is as cool as it is hilarious. Abby knows some of them - she waves at Nora and hugs Manny when he sees her: they're only people Abby kept in contact with after breaking up with Owen. They stopped being friends with him the moment they found out what happened.

Lev is very nervous. He clings to Abby's arm and she laughs kindly.

"Hey, relax. You're supposed to have fun."

"Yeah, I know." Lev says, a little irritated, but it makes Abby and Ellie laugh again.

Ellie takes everything in her hands and comes back with three beers, opening them for Lev and Abby. Abby chuckles at her typical alpha behaviour, but doesn't tease her. They share a drink, and Lev is still nervous, so Ellie takes him to the dance floor and he finally relaxes next to his second favourite person and his first favourite alpha.

Or so Abby thinks.

She watches another person come to them, and by the way Ellie tenses Abby guesses it's an alpha. Abby tenses too: the protectiveness kicks in.

But the alpha smiles and hugs Lev like Abby does: like if this alpha was Lev's older sister. They talk for a bit and then Lev points in Abby's direction. The alpha nods and waves at Abby. She waves back, confused.

And then this alpha makes her way to Abby.

Abby is caught off guard: the alpha is hot. She is also friendly judging by the smile and the way she treated Lev, and Abby can’t decide how to behave around her. She is not bitter after what happened with Owen, but she is definitely out of practice of talking with hot alphas.

You watch Lev's sister's face go through a variety of emotions, and it makes you chuckle - you too would be confused. But you want to meet her and make sure she knows Lev is taken care of: he is under your wing. He is a sweet kid, shy one, and you know how nervous he is about everything, so you want him to have this safety net.

"Hi!" You say cheerfully and give your hand for a handshake. You try not to think of how beautiful Lev's sister is, how much her blue eyes hypnotise you. She is fucking adorable, that what she is. 

"Hi?" And her voice is soft too. You blink to clear your mind and tell her your name. You can’t smell her, but you’re pulled to her like a magnet.

"I'm Lev's student guide." Abby nods, not sure if she is okay with an alpha around her baby brother.

"I'm Abby, Lev's sister." You beam at Abby and she feels her stomach flutter. Abby quickly tries to kill the butterflies, but you seem so genuine. She can't smell you when there's so many people around, and maybe it's a good thing.

“Lev gave me your number as an emergency contact, and I just wanted you to know if an unknown number texts you that Lev is puking after doing beer pong, it will be me.” Abby can't help her chuckle: you do sound genuine. Abby feels like you really care about her brother and it makes her feel better. 

Lev and Ellie come back and Abby looks at how Lev's face lights up when you smile at him. Oh no. He has a crush on you. It breaks Abby’s heart: she sees how you treat him like a baby brother, and Abby knows Lev has no chance. She also thinks if she looked like this when she met Owen, all star-struck and hopeful. At least you look like a better person.

Abby also feels how tense Ellie is around you. Another alpha thing, but this one is annoying - Ellie’s protectiveness is borderline territorial, so Abby glares at her. Ellie glares back, but some of the tension goes away.

You ruffle Lev’s hair and ask him to enjoy the party and find you if they need anything. Ellie only fully relaxes when you’re lost in the crowd.

“She is the coolest.” Lev tells them and Ellie huffs. “She always helps me around. Saved my ass a few times as well.”

“Well, kid, I don’t want you to get hurt by her, okay?” Ellie says and Lev blushes. 

“Don’t worry, Ellie. I know nothing will happen.” Lev smiles. “She likes people on her level. Someone like you, Abby.”

Abby’s heart skips a beat in pain. There's no way an alpha like you would like an omega like her. 

Or if there is, then there's something wrong with you and you shouldn't be around her brother. 

“She doesn't seem too bad.” Ellie says almost through her teeth; she is as annoyed at her nature as Abby is, but she tries to have a clear head. “But if she hurts you, I'll kill her.” 

Abby would laugh, but the image of Owen's bloody face and a broken wrist don't let her. It's a good thing he didn't press charges, too humiliated to admit he got his ass kicked for cheating. 

Abby forgets about you until she is getting ready to sleep tonight. She puts her palm under her cheek, blissfully unaware, and takes a breath that is full of your scent. It shakes her, having an alpha scent on her, and Abby can't control herself.

Abby's cheeks burn, her heart picks up speed. Her cunt throbs. 

You smell amazing. It has an edge, like any other alpha’s scent, but it's not suffocating. Well no. It is, but it doesn't feel bad, it makes Abby bury her nose in her palm and take a deep sniff. It makes her feel safe. 

And Abby is terrified. She can't like your scent. It's dangerous, she can't risk herself like this, it's stupid. Lev has a crush on you, for god's sake! And even if she could, you'd never look her way. You're a good alpha and good alphas like pretty, small, sweet smelling omegas. Not Abby. 

She doesn’t know that she also left some of her scent on your palm. She doesn’t know you’ve been smelling it the whole night, addicted to the smell of fresh roses and memory of pretty blue eyes. She doesn't know that you struggle to control your eyes from changing to alpha red the whole time. 

You're ready to claw walls after meeting the prettiest omega of your life that you know is sweet and kind and smart: Lev really can't shut up about his sister. It's fucking eating you alive. 

And you have no idea when you'll meet her again, but then you remember that both of you are in the same university. So you start trying to figure out her schedule. You know she is a med student, so you take a chance at going to the library. 

And you're not wrong: Abby is there, looking miserable as she takes her notes. Your instincts kick in and you try to think of a way to make her feel better, but you get your shit together: it would be creepy. 

So you just walk over and ask to sit next to her. Abby is surprised, but she lets you anyway. 

It's awkward. You both are trying to not inhale too much, but the scents are respectively addictive: you smell her fresh roses and she smells your spice and safety. You want to bury yourself in her neck and mark her, scent her, make her yours, but you push these thoughts away.

“How's Lev doing?” Abby asks, not being able to concentrate anymore. It's even more embarrassing that you both smell of attraction, but it doesn't really mean anything: it was proven to be an instinct thing, therefore not reliable in human society. It just makes everything awkward for everyone.

“He is excellent, honestly. He got interested in charity work and I think he will soon be cleared to volunteer at animal shelters.” 

“Good. Thanks for looking after him. I don't want him to get hurt, you know?” Abby didn't mean to say this, but you catch the meaning of her words anyway. She can smell a faint hurt coming from you, but it's not big enough. 

“I'll do whatever I can to make sure he is safe.” You promise Abby and her attraction grows. You blink, but get back into conversation, trying to find more about Abby. 

Abby is.. reluctant. She is polite, but her answers are short, and you're not an idiot, you can take a hint, so you apologise for taking her time and go. 

Abby watches you go and gets filled with sorrow. You seem so sweet, and it scares her. She can't understand what is your angle and why are you bothered with her. She is sad because she wants you to be bothered with her. She wants you to like her; but Abby's brain doesn't even entertain the idea of it. Plus, Lev is crushing on you, it would be absolutely unfair of her to like you. 

The sour smell of sadness makes Ellie restless when she gets to the library half an hour later for their study session. She looks Abby over and tries to piece together what's wrong. 

“Did something happen?” 

Abby is also reluctant to tell Ellie, but she does it anyway. Ellie frowns the whole time, not pleased with another alpha upsetting her baby. Abby is quick to defend you and say that it's she who is the problem. Ellie kicks her under the table. 

“You are not a problem. It's Owen in your head again! Let go of this asshole. There are better alphas than him, fuck, any decent alpha is better than him. Don't assume shit.” Ellie tells her and Abby nods. 

Abby decides to try. Maybe at least she can make a friend. So the next time you see her in the library, she actually smiles at you. 

You swallow. Hard. Abby is gorgeous. 

So you sit next to her and surprisingly, the conversation flows so much better than the last time. You think she was just super busy back then.

Abby is so fucking oblivious it's not funny. She talks to you like she'd talk to Ellie: she doesn't believe your scent, convinced it's just nature and alphas are like this sometimes, so she is relaxed. You can be friends, she thinks. You're great and smell amazing, so you can be friends. 

You're almost salivating the whole time. Abby is cute as fuck, and she is hot as fuck: she takes her hoodie off and stays in a tight crop top, and you ogle at her arms and shoulders. She is incredible. 

“I know we've just met, but I can't leave without asking. Would you go on a date with me?” 

Abby's scent spikes in surprise, and then anxiety. An awful, sick smell that makes you back off. 

“Oh. Oh, I'm sorry.” You tell her, eager to get rid of this stench, to keep Abby calm and safe. 

“Are you sure?” Abby asks, not really believing her ears. 

“I mean, I really want to get to know you better.” You admit. 

“Lev has a crush on you.” Abby blurts and you laugh kindly. 

“I know. We talked about it with him. I don't let this stuff slide when it happens.” It makes Abby feel a little easier. “But if you're uncomfortable, I totally get it. I'd love to be your friend as well.” 

“...I need to talk to Lev first.” Abby admits, her cheeks feel hot. 

“Of course. Let me know then.” You smile sweetly, your scent is so full of attraction it's hard to find an excuse for it, so Abby just ignores it. 

She smells excited now and you beam. “You’re so pretty.” You blurt before you can stop yourself, but Abby starts to smell so sweetly and her cheeks are rosy now, you feel on cloud nine. 

“Thanks, I guess.” She says, shy, and you nod. You say your goodbyes and leave Abby to study. 

Abby thinks she's gone insane. Or you've gone insane. There's no way you actually asked her on a date. 

But Abby wants to go so much. She didn't admit it, but she was getting lonely, and then suddenly you came along and made her heart beat faster. 

So she gains courage and talks to Lev. He gets sad, but not the sour kind, the faint lavender of regret. 

“I told you she would like you.” Lev smiles and Abby hugs him, trying to comfort him. “She is good, I promise.” 

“I'm sorry, Lev.” 

“Don't be.” Lev chuckles and they spend the evening watching the movie. 

Next day you text Abby to find out if everything worked out and she gives you a positive. You grin like an idiot the whole day and plan the date.

You don't get all romantic on your first date, since you feel like Abby might get anxious, so you two just go to a bar and have a game of pool. 

It's perfect: you both are competitive, you get to see Abby bend down and you get to flirt a lot after a drink. Abby is wearing high waisted jeans and her bubble butt looks amazing in them. You don't know this, but Abby was desperate to make herself look more like an omega, and even if she couldn't hide her shoulders and biceps, she wanted to compensate for it, showing off her butt. 

Abby is oblivious to your hungry eyes when she takes a hit, but you're struggling. Abby is sweet and she smells so fucking good. You're itching to touch her, but you keep yourself in check. So instead you compliment her. A lot. 

Abby is flustered: no one ever talked to her like this. No alpha made it clear to her that they found her this attractive. But you keep your mouth running. “Your shirt looks so good on you.” “Sorry, I can't stop staring at your shoulders. They're very nice.”

Abby laughs at this one and feels more comfortable in her own skin. So she opens up. “My ex didn't like that I work out so much.” She chuckles, and you look at her in mock offence. It makes her laugh. 

“What a fucking idiot. Only cowards don't appreciate muscle mommies.” You scrunch your nose and Abby laughs harder. 

“God, what is this nickname?”

You get flustered and Abby feels all giddy. She didn't expect any alpha to get flustered, especially not because of her. “You know. When girls, especially omegas, build up a lot of muscles? People really dig it.” 

“Do you?” Abby asks, coy, and she sees the red flash in your eyes. It makes her press her thighs together. 

“Yeah. Yeah, I do.” You say and there's a hint of an alpha voice. Abby's chest is going to explode. 

You don't kiss Abby properly tonight, instead opting to kiss her hand: you like her, and you don't want to rush it. Abby gets flustered and you can't help the spike in your scent that makes Abby's cheeks red. 

(No, you don't get off on her scent when you come home.) 

(No, Abby doesn't fuck herself on her fingers when she comes home, burying her nose into her palm where she can catch your scent.) 

You both take it slow. You kiss her for the first time on your third date and Abby folds in your hands while you purr and knead her sides. 

Abby starts spending more time at your place, where you just cuddle and watch something. You start catching her scent all around your apartment, and it's driving you crazy. You want Abby to be yours so desperately, but you make yourself think with your head and not with your dick, so you don't rush.

You're in your class when you get a call from Lev. You don't pick up the first one, but when he calls for the second time, you walk out of the class and take the call. 

Lev is crying. 

Turns out his heat came during his class and now he is scared of going home on his own. Your instincts kick in and you grab your shit at a lighting speed before storming to Lev. You text Abby while you're running, and then your mind shifts into protective mode. 

It's hard being around an omega in heat: it's hard for the both of you. Lev clings to you while you wrap your arm around his shoulders and walk him from campus to his place. You know your eyes are red and you're low-key growling, but you keep comforting Lev. 

“It's okay. I'll get you home, and Abby is going to be here, okay? I'll keep you safe, don't worry. You're doing great, just a little more, can you walk a little more for me?”

Your voice soothes Lev and you make it to his place where Abby is already pacing in worry. 

She takes a look at you and her breath hitches. Your eyes are red and so hungry, Abby feels horny and sorry for you: she doesn't know how much willpower you need to keep your head straight when there's an omega in distress and in heat. 

You both get Lev inside his apartment and you retreat to the kitchen while Abby takes care of Lev. She fusses around, gives him pills and sends him to take a shower. You sit straight, your firsts tight as you watch your girlfriend being all motherly. This mixed with the smell of heat makes you feral. It gets harder to control, especially when Abby stands in front of you, her gorgeous scent in your nose. 

“How are you?” She asks, compassionately. And you grit your teeth. 

“Can you-” You start with a growl and you smell Abby's arousal. “Fuck. Can you come here?” You pat your lap.

The moment Abby sits down you grab her and bury your nose in her neck, your arms are tight around her back. Abby yelps when you press her closer and her scent spikes with arousal, making you growl. 

“I'm not- I'm not going to do anything. I just need a moment.” You growl and Abby swallows. Her arousal tickles your nose and you growl louder, pressing your nose closer to her scent glands.

Abby is so wet in her pants she is afraid she will leak on you, but she can't help it: you're usually so sweet, hiding your nature, and now you're acting so alpha-like, and it does things to her.

“Shit. We can't-” Abby's arousal gets mixed with anxiety and you want to sneeze to get it out of your nose. 

“We're not doing anything. Not like this. I just need a redirection.”  You take a deep inhale full of Abby's scent and you finally settle down. Your voice returns and you feel like you can control your eyes again. You ease your hold on Abby and the anxiety goes away. “Did I scare you?” 

Abby is baffled. It's such a big contrast to how Owen treated her before, she is lost for words. You're worried if you sniffing her scared her while Owen didn't care if he left bruises.

The air gets filled with the smell of fresh bakery - the scent of love and affection - and you almost tremble under Abby in excitement.

“A little. I was worried if you'd stop.”

“I have excellent self-control, baby.” You wink at Abby and she slaps your bicep.

She moves a certain way that makes her pelvis move against yours and you grunt: the scent of Abby's arousal got you half-hard already, and you're kinda sensitive now. 

Abby also feels it. She grows red and you giggle, kissing her cheek. 

“Lev is going to be out of the shower soon, I should go.”

“Okay.” Abby gets up from her seat on your lap and you pout. “Do you want-” Abby shakes her head. It's a stupid idea. 

“Do I want what?”

“Something with my scent?” 

You swallow and nod. Abby stands for a second, thinking, and then just takes her shirt off, letting you see her in a bra. You see her small tits covered by her lacy bra and adjust your pants. She is so fucking hot and this is so not the time, but your cock twitches and gets harder with every second while you stare at the most beautiful omega in your life. 

“You're a fucking menace.” You growl again and kiss Abby with hunger, the rumbling in your chest resonating in hers. Abby goes pliant and kisses you back. 

It takes you two tries to get away from her, but Abby is so delicious it's insane. 

You spend the evening in your apartment, getting off on Abby's shirt, fantasising about her going into heat and how you would take care of her and how good you would make her feel. 

You're together for a few months now when Abby's heat comes. You can smell it on her the day before, when she is all whiny and tired, sleeping for the bigger part of the movie on top of you. Her usual rose scent is getting stronger. 

“Are you close to your heat?” Abby hums in agreement and you swallow, staring at the ceiling. “Okay. I can smell it.” 

“Oh.” Abby is surprised. She doesn't have a very prominent scent so she didn't expect you to notice. “Oh I didn't think you'd smell it.”

“Your scent is my fucking heaven, of course I would.”

Abby blushes. Deeply. And you feel her press her thighs together. It makes your dick twitch. 

“I think it'll start tomorrow.” 

“Do you want me to be with you?” You ask innocently and Abby chuckles. “I mean, we haven't done anything yet and I understand if you want to wait and have normal sex first. Well, if you even want to have se-”

Abby cuts you off with a kiss and you relax. “We can try normal sex now.”

And you do. It's slow and sweet and you both laugh when you bump heads and knees and when you have to fumble around for lube since you're messy, but it's perfect. 

You're not aggressive, but you still growl and claw at Abby's soft thighs, and it's a perfect balance of care and pure animalistic want, and Abby feels wanted. She kinda wants to see your control break. 

And then you dip down between her thighs and Abby yelps and pushes your head away, shy. “You don't have to-”

“I really fucking want to. But if you don't want me to, it's okay. I won't.”

“I've never done it before.” Abby admits, embarrassed. She asked Owen to do it once but he looked weirded out by her ask, so Abby felt ashamed to ask again. You stare at her in shock - a good-natured one - and Abby hides her face. 

You slow down and get on her level again, gently moving her hand away. “Hey, it's cool. I didn't mean to belittle you, I just- you're so pretty and so gorgeous, who wouldn't want to go down on you?” Abby looks at you, so deeply touched by your care she feels her eyes water. She smells of love again and you giggle, burying your nose in her neck. “We don't have to do it.”

“I kinda wanna try.” Abby murmurs, smiling, and you beam at her. 

“I'll go slow, okay? Tell me what feels good and what's not, yeah?”

That's how Abby ends up being eaten out for the first time. She loves the feeling of your mouth on her and how your fingers curl inside her. She loves how your eyes gradually become alpha red the closer she is to cumming. 

She comes down from her high and looks at you, half naked and red-eyed, like a predator you're meant to be, and her cunt throbs. 

Abby rides you until you're a grunting mess under her as she massages your tits and clenches around you. You growl, but you don't grab her or hurt her, just let her have fun, and Abby is so fucking happy. 

“I can't wait to spend my heat with you.” Abby moans and you cum immediately, filling her up. 

This time Abby gets to feel safe and taken care of during her heat as you attend her every whim, every request, from “cum inside me” to “I really want some chocolate ice-cream”. You do everything, and Abby can't be happier. She texts Ellie as much when you're out to get her ice-cream and Ellie just sends vomiting emojis. 

Of course then she tells Abby she is happy for her and that she is going to be a best woman at your wedding. 

Abby doesn't want to admit, it scares her, but she wants to be your mate one day. 

You come back not only with chocolate ice-cream, but with some junk food as well. Abby can't help but to drop to her knees right in the hallway. 

You also help Abby recover after the heat, bringing her snacks and letting her nap every chance you can, and Abby knows she is in love with you. She doesn't even need to tell you: she constantly smells of love and lust around you now, but she decides to do it anyway.

You're balls deep in her while she pinches your nipples and nibbles at your scent glands, making you whimper in her ear. “Fuck, you feel so good around me.”

“I love you.” Abby says sweetly and you shudder on top of her, and Abby feels how your cock twitches when you cum. Abby feels your fangs scraping her scent glands and she cums too, milking you. 

“Fuck, baby, shit! I love you too, I love you so fucking much, shit-” You pant and Abby grins. 

Abby likes making a mess out of you. 

For some insane reason, Abby's excited for your rut. She didn't like spending ruts with Owen, but you're so gentle and patient, Abby is sure she'll be okay. 

Your rut comes after a month after Abby's heat. Abby likes how possessive you get in pre-rut, even though you start growling at Ellie, which doesn't end well with Ellie's explosive temper. You get along well any other time, but the constant stare down irritates Ellie to the point when she tells Abby, “go fuck the crazy out of your alpha, she is so fucking annoying. Yeah, you.” Ellie stares at you while you tug Abby closer on your lap, scenting her. “Oh my god, get a fucking room. I know Abby is like, your Jesus or whatever, but it's too much.”

Abby just giggles and enjoys how your growling changes to purring. Abby turns to you and cradles your face. “My alpha.” She murmurs and Ellie groans.

“I fucking hate you guys.”

“Not our fault you fell in love with another alpha, Ellie.” You chuckle. 

“Fuck off.” She growls and two if you laugh. 

Abby stays at your place and you get to fall asleep with her in your arms.

On the next day you wake up with a heavy head. You're already hard and Abby is right there, soft and sleeping. You think about how her wet hot pussy feels around your cock and your pheromones spike up so high Abby wakes up. 

She can tell right away that you're in rut. Your scent is suffocating. It's not soft, safe suffocating scent that Abby likes, it's the one that gets stuck in her nose and makes her cunt clench around nothing. She wants nothing more than to get on her fours and present herself for you - this is how much power you have over her. 

“My rut-”

“Yes, I-”

“If you don't want to be here, I think I can hold off for 10 minutes and let you leave.” You growl and it only turns Abby on. 

So she does what she wants - she gets on her knees, her cunt right in front of your face, and arches her back. 

“Knot me, baby.” 

All your restraints break. You're rough and you make Abby take everything: if she is not cumming on your cock, she is cumming on your fingers as you fuck your cum back into her, or she is sitting on your face. Abby struggles to keep up with you, since she is not in heat, but she can't wait to take your knot, and she tells you as much. You growl and fuck her harder, feeling your release building up. Abby is so pretty under you, covered in marks, her tits red from your mouth. She spreads her legs and you pin her thighs by her sides, watching your cock disappear in her pretty little pussy. You finally push your knot into Abby and she whimpers, tries to adjust to your size, but you rub her clit and she clamps on you.

“Mine. My omega. My girl.” You growl loudly while Abby clenches around your knot, thrashing on the bed. It's too much pleasure and she knows you're far from done.

And Abby is right. You make her cum on your knot four other times, and only after she makes you cum again - which means she cums st least three times more - you give her a break. You're still sweet, but now it's possessive sweetness. You don't let her do anything, bathing and feeding her, but she is so exhausted she doesn't even notice. 

“I wanna nap.” Abby tells you when she is snuggled against your chest. It's a small break before you would get horny again. 

“You should. You did so well.” Abby giggles and nuzzles your neck. 

“Don't wait if you get horny again. It would be a nice way to wake up.”

“I fucking love you.”

“You better. You're my alpha. It's a requirement.”

“You call me your alpha again and you're not napping, babe. Go the fuck to sleep.” You kiss her forehead and Abby laughs.

Abby doesn't know if it's luck or destiny, but this time she is sure: you are the one for her.

(and she is right.)

[artbyblastweave]

As a person that knows a lot more about capeshit than me, what’s the meta-textual significance of the Superpowers in The Power Fantasy abstaining from establishing secret identities?

Principally it's to signal that the characters, while informed by the traditional superhero paradigm, exist largely outside of it.

Contemporary superhero fiction has a complicated relationship with the concept of The Secret Identity. When you come at the premise fresh without years of ossified genre convention, you get hit with the double whammy that a civilian identity is increasingly difficult to keep secret and that even if you buy into the idea of doing vigilante shit in secret to avoid going to jail, it's still going to take some extra work to get to the finish line of grown men calling themselves "Batman" or "Ant Man" and expecting to be taken seriously.

So, retellings will often go out of their way justify how these characters could develop these public identities semi-organically. "Superman" is usually not Clark Kent's idea in modern retellings- the media names him that, Lois names him that, and he runs with it. The Batman has the fantastic recurring gag that Bruce appears to actually self-identify as the comically overwrought "Vengeance," but the bat motif led to everyone just calling him Batman instead. The X-Men have advanced the idea, in a couple different forms, that "Mutant names" are a sub-cultural thing brushing up against a cult thing, a ceremonial way of setting yourself above and apart from baseline humanity. And you've got military callsigns, obviously. I think that's where "Ant-Man" and "Hawkeye" come from in the MCU.

In The Power Fantasy, none of the superpowers have a dual identity because they've all got extremely specific political (or artistic) projects that don't mesh well with that. To a degree I think this is playing in the same space as X-Men, where a lot of the cast have shifted over the years from being public ciphers to being public activists whose real names are on the news alongside their code names when they blow something up. But even if they don't have dual identities, the superpowers do have identities, personas, nicknames; there's a mix of deliberate image-building and outside-designation-by-society occurring. "Heavy" Harris is a thing an activist or cult leader who controls gravity could plausibly come to be called in the course of Moving and Shaking. Masumi is mentioned, in passing, to also go by the name of "Deconstructa," which reads like either a pretentious artist thing or a common-parlance nickname she picked up after the Kaiju thing. Eliza Hellbound is clearly not that woman's real name, but also, it is- and it's descriptive, and she's certainly powerful enough that that's what she gets to be called if she wants. "Jacky Magus" is really really really obviously not what's on that guys birth certificate, but it's also the only name he has that actually matters. Ettiene gets a whole monologue about the necessity of constructing himself as a figurehead that human governments can work with. He wears bright yellow, he gives interviews, and I will eat my hat if his actual last name is Lux. These people are similar to traditional superheroes in that they are constructing larger-than-life identities, they're playing a game, they're selling the world on specific narratives about themselves. But the truth that they're covering for is never that they've got some kind of secret civilian life waiting for them when they clock out. By choice or otherwise, all six of them are simply well past that.

[lucifersdickriderdotnet]

Sick and Tired

Summary: you can't say that anything about having a chronic illness is fun, but at least you have friends who care about you. 2.7k words

Disclaimer: GENDER NEUTRAL READER I wrote this in one go at like 3am. So. All of the brothers are in this but it's more platonic than anything else? If you want you can read it as romance because I did imagine kissing several of them on the mouth while writing it. also shout out to the author on ao3 that called Asmo "Momo" and then pointed out that it means "peach" in japanese. I did steal that nickname. lmk if it was you though bc I will credit you.

Notes: This is based on my own personal experience with a mystery disease that has been plaguing me since I hit puberty. I'm going to be very real, I wrote this for myself as a way to cope because I got #sad. it sucks, for sure, but there are some things that make it more bearable and isn't that how life works anyways?

The cool thing about being a human in what is essentially hell is that when diseases happen, you are more or less immune to them. The bad part about being a human in what is essentially hell is that you’re human and it’s essentially hell. Because of this, there are some things that you’ve had to explain to your housemates, or to an overeager Diavolo, or to a concerned Luke. You had to talk Lucifer down from renovating the whole House to put in an elevator because he was “worried about your flimsy human joints.”

“I have bad joints, regardless.” You remember saying, “I’m a human, it comes with the territory. Don’t put an elevator in the House, I don’t like them anyway.”

You’ve had to explain that while you’re grateful that they managed to find vitamin D supplements, they’re meant to be just that, a supplement to spending time in the sun, something the Devildom doesn’t have. So while your symptoms have been alleviated, they have not been fixed. Levi fixed this by buying you something like a heat lamp.

“Where did you even find this?” You’d said after he’d forced you underneath it.

“You’re gonna hate the words that are going to come out of my mouth.” His hands stilled from where they were busy attaching it to the wall by your bed.

“Just tell me.”

“Some demons used to, emphasis on ‘used to’, own humans as pets. So they made these little lamps to mimic the sun or whatever.” You blink at him, rapid fire before shrugging a little.

“Humans used to own each other.” He turns his head to gape at you like a fish.

“What?”

“Yeah it was a whole thing. There are still lasting repercussions that echo through our modern society.”

“That’s insane.”

“I thought I told you before that human cruelty knows no bounds.”

Solomon of course, is no help, because while he may be human, he is old. You’d complained of jaw pain once, something about your teeth aching.

“It might be a demon.” He’d said this confidently at the one dinner a month he’s allowed to have with the brothers. As per the dating-Asmo-agreement he made with Lucifer.

“It might be a what?” Satan’s head whipped towards Solomon so fast you thought he broke something.

“A demon. Tooth pain is caused by little demons in the teeth.” You stared at him like he grew a second head.

“No, it’s not. It’s caused by bacteria eating away at your teeth. And that’s just for cavities. This could be something completely different. Also, I don’t think humans have believed the demon teeth thing in forever. God, you’re old.” Your frustrated rebuttal of Solomon’s “wisdom” had not stopped the brothers from checking you up and down for curses or signs of possession.

So, for the most part. It’s fine, and you don’t mind explaining these things to them just like they don’t mind explaining demon culture to you. This though, you’ve never been able to explain to anyone, so you can’t explain it to them either.

—

“I’m so tired,” it’s noon and you woke up from sleeping two hours earlier. Asmo has dragged you out of the house for some shopping spree, and while you were excited to go, your energy levels have quickly depleted.

“But darling! We just started!” Despite saying this, he’s walking towards the register with the clothes he’s decided he likes, willing to cut his trip short if it’s for you. You shake your head.

“No, no, keep shopping. I’m always tired, Peach.” He hums and goes back to perusing the shelves while you stay seated by the dressing room for his mini fashion shows.

You don’t just get tired while hanging out with Asmo, it happens everywhere. Beel has to catch your head when you almost faceplant into your lunch. You spend a Devildom History class fighting to keep your eyes open while Satan takes twice the amount of notes as usual so you don’t fall behind. Levi asks you to watch a special livestream of a Sucre Frenzy concert and you have to sit down halfway through because you’re suddenly dizzy. You even fall tired while driving Mammon’s car, once.

He’d been in the passenger seat, fretting over your every move, and you’d understood despite the fact that it was incredibly annoying. This car was his baby, something he was incredibly proud of, something he worked hard to get. Still, having someone freak out over your driving usually makes it worse.

You’d been gently reassuring him of your skills when you felt it, the familiar pull of your eyelids, the way your brain seemed to slow down. It takes you a second longer than it should to register the red light and you have to slam on the brakes to avoid running it. It’s not too soon after that when you decide to pull over and have Mammon drive you home. You fall asleep on the way back.

—

This all comes to a head when you manage to outsleep Belphie.You aren’t sure how you did it, honestly. You went to bed on Friday afternoon and vaguely remember being woken up because a meal was ready. You remember making some sort of affirmative noise and then going back to sleep. You have hazy memories of stumbling to the bathroom and chugging down bottles of water, but mostly it was just sleep. Then, Belphie is shaking you awake. He’s saying something you can’t quite hear and Beel is picking you up and carrying you to the living room and the lights are so bright it turns your brain back on.

“Belphie, did you do somethin’?” It’s Mammon’s voice, accusatory. Someone pokes your cheek.

“So you kill a guy once and suddenly everything that happens to them is your fault?” His reply makes you snort.

“Did you or not?”

“No. This is… this is something else.” He sighs and then one of your eyelids is being manually opened so he can make eye contact with you before he lets go and your head drops slightly. “I know what my sin feels like. I know what Sloth feels like. It’s a choice, mostly. It’s the action of choosing to do nothing rather than something. This is something else. Something completely different.” You yawn and scrub at your eyes, finally opening them to stare at your posse.

“Did I get a fanclub while I was napping?”

“You’ve always had a fanclub,” Levi says quietly.

“Napping? You call that a nap?” Asmo pokes your cheek and you assume he’s the one who did it the first time.

“How do you know they have a fanclub?” Satan turns his head to Levi and his brother turns a bright shade of red.

“I’m the president.” He says. Beel raises his hand.

“I’m VP. We hold meetings every Wednesday. Lucifer pretends it’s stupid but he’s always in the club room ‘doing student council work’.”

“Can we get back to the matter at hand?” Lucifer finally interjects, not wanting to deal with his brothers’ needling. Satan grumbles something about him being a loser under his breath. “Are you aware of how long you were asleep for?”

“I mean, I dunno,” you stretch your arms above your head and almost hit someone in the face. “I remember someone coming to me about dinner, so probably a while. Why?” Lucifer sighs and rubs a hand down his face.

“It’s Sunday afternoon.” You stare at him blankly.

“This is the worst joke you’ve ever told.”

“I am not joking,” he says and Levi shoves his D.D.D under your nose. Sure enough it says that today, the day you are finally awake, is Sunday. It says that it’s 2pm. You’ve slept for almost a full 48 hours. The thought brings tears to your eyes immediately and Levi freaks out.

“No wait, don’t cry. I don’t know what to do when you cry!” His hands are flapping around your face uselessly and it makes you laugh and choke on a wet sob.

“You can back the fuck up, for starters.” Satan bodily pushes his brothers out of the way to get to you, placing a box of tissues on your lap and sitting next to you. Not close enough to touch, but enough so you know he’s there.

“Sorry,” you take a tissue and blow your nose. Beel holds out a trashcan and Asmo pretends not to be disgusted. It’s sweet. “Crying in front of people is so cringe.”

“Being vulnerable and crying is not something you should be ashamed of,” Lucifer says and it’s weird to have your own words parroted back at you.

“Why’re you apologizin’ anyway? ‘S not like you did anythin’ wrong. We’re just worried is all.” Mammon runs a hand over your hair as he says it before remembering himself and crossing his arms over his chest.

“Because it’s never been this bad before. I’ve never slept for damn near two days.”

“So this is a recurring problem?” Satan has procured a notebook from out of nowhere and has his hand poised to write down what you’re saying. Presumably to go scour his books for a solution.

“Yeah. It’s … I’m tired a lot. Always, really. I’m tired right now, actually. Sometimes it’s worse than others but … I don’t really know what’s wrong.” You huff, “I was actually in the process of getting tests done to figure it out when I got magic-ed here. Isn’t that funny?”

“Is there anything we can do to help?” Asmo is resting his head on your shoulder and you tilt your head so it rests on his.

“Not really. ‘M sorry, Peach. I’d tell you if there was.”

“I always wondered why you had such deep eyebags. I thought it was something in your skincare routine.”

“It’s also genetic.”

“Humans have genes for dark under eyes?” He sounds horrified at the prospect.

“Sure do.”

“That’s miserable.” You laugh at him and he squeezes your hand gently.

“So, yer just… tired.” Mammon asks.

“Mhm.”

“Chronically.”

“Also yes.”

“I didn’t know you knew the word ‘chronic’, Mammon,” Belphie ribs Mammon from his spot on the floor. You kick him slightly.

“Don’t be an ass.” He sighs dramatically and flops over onto his back.

“It’s good to know it’s not a freaky demon thing.” He peers up at you from underneath his bangs.

“Yeah. I’m kind of tired of dealing with freaky demon things. No offense.” There’s a chorus of agreement throughout the room and you can see everyone relax a little now that they know.

“It is a shame though,” Lucifer says, “that it is not demon related.” His brow furrows. “Those I can fix.” You shrug and slightly jostle Asmo’s head.

“Eh. That’s life. Thank you for being concerned though, I appreciate it.” Your stomach grumbles. “I guess I should eat, huh?” Asmo graciously lifts his head off your shoulder and you head to the kitchen, Beel on your tail.

“There’s nothing we can do?” He looks sad, and he’s rubbing his wrist in that way he does when he’s nervous. You’re struck with the realization that Beel is the defender of his family. He’s physically the biggest and the strongest, and he’s been looking after them and taking care of them physically for basically forever. It must be excruciating for him to not be able to help you.

“No,” you shake your head sadly, “I’m sorry, Bug.” You step forward and give him a hug. He returns it and you pretend you can’t feel him cry.

—

Things are different after that. Asmo tries to hang out with you in places closer to the House or in his room. Lucifer pulls you aside and tells you both his room and his study are always open for you if you need them. Beel takes you to the gym with him so you don’t stay too sedentary, but is always willing to stop working out if you need to go home. Satan almost gets into a physical altercation with a teacher over you sleeping in class and you find out later that Belphie gave him nightmares for a week. Levi doesn’t make you sit through as many anime binges anymore, instead separating them up into something more bite sized so you can properly enjoy it. It’s nice, you think, that they’re trying to take your needs into consideration.

Diavolo catches wind of it and sneaks his way over to the House to ask you questions. Walks into Lucifer’s study where you’re trying to do assigned reading like he owns it, and you think that he probably does in some way.

“Diavolo–” Lucifer stands up and Diavolo laughs.

“Don’t worry! There is nothing wrong! I just had some questions for our lovely exchange student.” He sits down in the armchair across from you and you set your notebook down.

“What’s up?” You can hear Lucifer mumbling prayers to a God who will no longer listen to them and it makes you snort.

“I have learned of your condition.”

“I gathered.”

“There is nothing I can do?”

“Do you have several degrees and a shit ton of fancy machinery?” Lucifer chokes at your language. Diavolo smiles at you.

“Can’t say that I do.”

“Then, no. There isn’t.” He hums thoughtfully and you busy yourself with trying to figure out Lucifer’s Demonus organization pattern. It doesn’t seem to be by age, so maybe it’s by color?

“What does it feel like?” Diavolo’s question draws you out of your comparison of two almost identical wine reds. You think one has a brighter undertone but that could be the color of the label.

“Have you ever been tired?”

“Indeed.”

“Have you ever not slept, for like, a whole day, and you can feel that your brain isn’t working at maximum capacity?” He nods. “Have you ever felt like you were trying to run in a swimming pool?”

“I can run in swimming pools.” You roll your eyes.

“Can you run through slime?”

“No, I don’t think so.”

“It’s like that. It’s being so tired that you know you aren’t operating at your best and being able to do nothing about it. It’s like moving through water. It’s never getting enough sleep. I could sleep the perfect amount for a human my age and I would still be down to take several long naps throughout the day. And it’s not something I can ignore, either. I can’t just power through it. Because after a while, it starts to hurt.”

“Hurt?” He frowns, and it’s weird to see him not smiling.

“Yeah. It’s. When I get too tired my eyes will hurt. It feels like they’re grapes and someone is squishing the life out of them. It feels like a thousand tiny needles poking at my eyes. It feels like someone is squishing the bridge of my nose in their fist and refuses to let go. It makes my stomach hurt, it makes me nauseous and sick, and it makes me dizzy and it’s awful.”

“I see.”

“So, I have to sleep. I have to sleep because if I don’t it hurts and if I manage to get through that my body will make itself sleep, anyway. It’ll just turn off, regardless of if I want it to or not.”

“That. That is miserable. I am sorry you have to experience such a thing.” You shrug a little and stare at your hands.

“What can you do?” It comes out sarcastic and dry. There’s a silence, tense and weighty, and you know what he’s going to ask before he does.

“Do you need to go to the human world?” You can hear Lucifer’s sharp inhale even though he was pretending to not listen.

“Maybe. But, if it is what I think it is, it won’t go away. I’ll just know and get medication. Probably.” Diavolo stands and nods.

“At least you will know. I will figure something out for you.” He nods again, this time to himself. “There is no reason for you to suffer this way.”

“It won’t go away, Diavolo. I’ll still have it.” You need him to know this. You need him to know that it won’t be permanently fixed. You don’t want him to be disappointed when everything’s said and done and you’re still sick.

“Yes, but things will be better, no? Some progress is better than no progress, no matter how small.” He pauses and smiles at you, warm and comforting. “And we will all be there for you. Regardless of the outcome.”

[sopebubbles]

One

Master list

Synopsis: in a world where alphas, betas, and omegas live along side modern humans as second class citizens, you've fallen through the cracks of a society that wants to take everything wonderful from you. Luckily a timely encounter with the boys just might save your life.

Chapter summary: you shouldn't be out in your condition, but at least Jungkook and Jimin are there to save you.

Warnings: assault/violence, ngl m/c is basically unconscious for this whole chapter, language, nudity, straight panic

Word count: 5k

Jimin fought the skip in his step so as not to embarrass Jungkook as they walked down the street to a relatively new nightclub that was supposed to be friendly to Lykos. Although it was technically illegal to deny anyone access to most spaces based on subspecies or secondary gender, there were still many places in the city where alphas, betas and omegas alike were looked down on or outright harassed. This new club was located closer to their home than most of the nightlife in the city, and Jimin couldn't help but be excited about checking it out. It had been a long week for the beta, as most weeks were, and as much as he loved relaxing at home with his pack, he was grateful that his fellow beta was willing to accompany him for a night of letting loose. Jungkook had also seen his fair share of Sapien bullshit this week while on duty, and he frankly needed to blow off some steam.

Being a cop was an oddly perfect job for a beta, not that the ordinary Saps Jungkook worked with always saw it that way. He managed to remain calm in situations that neither alphas or even regular Sapiens could. The calming pheromones he exuded with his subtle, fresh linen scent worked even on the Saps who didn't know when it affected them. But this week there must have been something in the air causing an uptick in Sapien-Lykos violence, and even Jungkook's ability to de-escalate most situations failed to save the life of a young omega male. He died right in front of Jungkook before he could even react. So when Jimin suggested they go out for a few drinks, Jungkook didn't hesitate.

Another thing that made Jungkook a good cop was his ability to smell trouble. He liked it much better on duty than in his freetime. When the hair on the back of his neck stood on end, he wished he could ignore it. He knew that something was wrong several seconds before his brain was able to fully process the scents carrying around the corner from the alley they were coming up on. Two aggressive alphas and one omega. An omega in heat. It was an incredibly alarming smell to encounter on the street at night. What omega in their right mind would dare to go out of the house at such a time? What alpha would let them?

It took Jimin a moment after Jungkook to catch on, but when he did, they shared a heavy look. Their steps slowed as they approached the opening of the alleyway, and when their footsteps silenced they could hear the gruff voice of one of the alphas speak.

"What's a pretty little omega like you doing out all alone in this state?"

"M not," a weak female voice whimpered in response. "Please, I'm not."

"Of course you are, sweetheart. It's no use hiding. Let us take you home and take care of you. Alpha will give you what you need."

A muffled no was choked off with a gurgling sound. Jimin looked pleadingly up at Jungkook, who knew that he couldn't hesitate any longer.

"Police! Put your hands up!" Jungkook called in his most commanding voice as he stepped around the corner and into the alleyway. He felt somewhat foolish, holding his hands up like a gun toward the other men, not knowing if they were armed. But faking it was all he could do at the moment.

The two men paused to look briefly in Jungkook's direction, but the light in the alley was too dim to give his ruse away. Instead, the alpha that had his hand around your throat squeezed tighter and pulled you closer just to slam your head back against the wall. He let you fall like a sack of potatoes to the concrete before he and his friend ran toward the other end of the alley, hoping that the "officer" would focus on helping you and not on catching them. It was a smart bet.

As the alphas' footsteps faded away onto another street, Jimin slipped past Jungkook to get to you first. He knelt down to the concrete beside you and asked in a shaking voice, "Miss, are you alright?"

Panic threatened to cloud his mind, but Jimin was used to dealing with Lykos in crisis from his job as a social worker with homeless Lykos youths. He leaned in closer to hear that you were still breathing while he pressed two fingers to your throat. You were positively burning and your heart was racing. You were definitely in heat. But what were you doing out here on your own?

"Should we call the police?" Jimin asked, turning his head to look up at his pack member.

Jungkook tensed. He'd love to say that the cops would be able to help, but the police were still more or less ignorant when it came to things like heats and ruts. They were still considered taboo to Saps. "They're less likely to get her to a safe place than to lock her up for public disturbance." Jungkook shook his head. "Maybe we can take her to the hospital."

"They'll turn her away. Heat isn't a medical emergency, and it will actually cause a public disturbance."

"Fuck."

Jimin stood with his hands on his hips and shared a look with Jungkook that had the taller beta shaking his head before Jimin even made a sound. "We gotta take her home."

"We can't take a random omega home, Jimin."

"We can't leave a vulnerable omega alone on the street either!" Jimin let out a quiet whine that had Jungkook clenching his fists.

"Don't fucking start. We'll take her home and have Yoongi check on her and see if we can get her coherent enough to get her home."

"Thank you, Kook," Jimin sighed.

Jungkook let out his own heavy breath as he stooped to pick you up in his arms and carry you back to the pack's house. He wasn't doing this for Jimin, or for you, but for his own conscience. He couldn't watch another omega die this week.

You weren't heavy, but you made the walk back to their house feel longer than before. You seemed to come around again as they returned home, and for a moment you felt disoriented, but Jungkook fluffed out his fresh linen scent as soon as he realized it, and it was enough to keep your frantic, homoronal mind down for a few more minutes as you nuzzled unconsciously into his neck. When they started up the sidewalk to the house, Yoongi's face appeared in the glass pane to the left of the entrance. He quickly opened and closed the door, hurrying down the steps to confirm that there was indeed a limp body in his youngest packmate's arms.

"What's going on?" Yoongi's voice came out in a hiss, but even that couldn't hide his natural concern. Any decent alpha would be concerned for an omega in your state.

Jungkook pushed past him and up the steps to set you down on the soft outdoor couch. Your head lolled as he pulled away. Your nose sought out his scent with a whimper.

"We were passing by when this omega was being assaulted," Jimin explained.

"So you brought her here?" Yoongi's voice was hushed but tense.

"We didn't know where else we could take her, hyung," Jimin shrugged.

"She's in heat!"

"No shit, Sherlock," Jungkook grumbled. He'd been able to breathe in nothing but you the whole way here, and while the smell of an omega in heat was far from unpleasant, even to a beta, it had him on edge. Yoongi glared at him. "We need you to take a look at her hyung. There were a couple alphas with her when we found them. Just, check to see if she's hurt please."

Yoongi stared at him in frustration for a moment before he sighed and bent to look at you. He had worked as an EMT for enough years to be able to control himself around an omega smelling as sweet as you, but that didn't mean it was easy for him. When Yoongi pressed his fingers to the pulse point just next to your swollen scent gland you let out another weak cry. He cursed silently as he tried to get a read on the rhythm of your heart.

Meanwhile, Jungkook took the purse that they had found beside you from Jimin and dug his hand inside. He pulled out a wallet and a phone a moment later. Opening your wallet first, he pulled out your ID and held it out to compare the picture on the card with the troubled face before him. "It looks like her name is Y/N," he informed the others.

You made a sound of recognition at hearing your name, but it didn't come close to being a word.

"Check her head, hyung. The guy who attacked her hit her pretty good."

Yoongi's deft fingers pressed lightly around your skull until he reached the back of your head and you winced at the tenderness. He pulled one hand back to check for blood, but there was only a small amount, indicating you didn't have a serious head wound, although he was sure it hurt. Before he could pull his other hand out of your tangled hair, you turned your nose into his wrist and breathed in his citrusy scent.

"Alpha," you moaned, low and quiet, with a breath-taking neediness that even Yoongi struggled to ignore.

"Fuck," he breathed as you nuzzled against his skin. Yoongi fought to keep a grip on his senses. "Why the hell did you bring this fucking omega here?" He groaned and forced himself to pull his hands away before he could get caught up in your smell. He wanted it covering his skin. He wanted it all over him like it was all over Jungkook.

"What else were we supposed to do? Just leave her there?" Jimin knew it wasn't the greatest idea, but you were in a crisis, and any port in a storm would do.

"No," Yoongi groaned, hanging onto the edge of his sanity by his fingertips. "Who would even let an omega out of their sight in a state like this?" It was unfathomable, unconscionable. Even now Yoongi's instincts were screaming at him. Get her inside the house. Get her in the nest. Protect omega. Breed her. He forced himself to take several steps away from you and gulps of what he hoped would be fresh air. Just enough for his rational brain to remind him that he could not and would not breed a random omega he just met. No matter how good she smelled.

Jungkook couldn't help but feel a little grateful he hadn't been an alpha. It wasn't the first time he thought so, but watching the elder male struggle now, he was keenly aware of it. "Jimin, go calm Yoongi hyung down before he mounts the poor girl."

Yoongi let a low growl start in his chest and neither of them were sure if it was toward Jungkook or the image his words conjured. Jimin obeyed and went to pin Yoongi between himself and the wall of the house. Jimin's lavender had never been strong, but he did his best to exude as much of the calming scent as possible, and Yoongi buried his nose against Jimin's scent gland until he was able to think more clearly.

Meanwhile Jungkook had managed to open your phone and was looking through your phonebook in search of an emergency contact. None was designated, but that was less surprising than the fact that there were almost no saved numbers in your phone. All of the names in the list had "(work)" beside them. Seeing no other choice, Jungkook tapped on the first contact on the list and held the phone to his ear. It rang four times before someone answered.

"Bitch, where are you? Your shift started two hours ago!" A voice on the other line responded.

Jungkook suppressed a snort. "Hi. I'm calling on behalf of Y/N. You work with her?"

"Uh, yeah? I'm supposed to be working with her right now. Where is she? Who is this?"

"I'm trying to help her. I need to get-"

"Is she okay?" The voice interrupted over the loud music in the background.

"I think she's okay. She must have unexpectedly gone into heat. Do you know how to get in touch with her pack?"

There was nothing but the noise of what must have been a bar on the other end of the line while Jungkook waited for an answer. "Hello?" He asked. He looked up to meet Yoongi's eyes across the porch. They were clearer now, but filled with confusion.

"Sorry, did you say Y/N went into heat?" The voice on the phone asked. They must have gone somewhere quieter, since their voice was much clearer and louder.

"Yeah. She-"

"But Y/N is Sapien," the person stated.

Jungkook's jaw dropped open a fraction. He had incontrovertible proof to the contrary, unless this person wasn't Y/N. It took him a moment to recover. "I'm sorry, do you have a number for her emergency contact?"

Jungkook could hear the person on the other end swallow before speaking. "I'm sorry. You must have the wrong person. I have to go."

The call ended abruptly, leaving Jungkook feeling more confused than ever.

"What happened?" Jimin questioned as the beta stared blankly at the screen.

Jungkook didn't answer, but dove his hand back into your bag, searching for answers.

Before he could find any, the front door was yanked open, revealing the pack's other three alphas, and one very annoyed omega. From the doorway, all Hoseok could see was Jungkook, and all he could smell was your heat-sweet scent coating the beta's body.

"What the hell is going on? And why the fuck do you smell like another omega?" Hobi demanded, hands on his hips. He had made sure to scent both his betas well before they left, even though he knew they would inevitably come home smelling like strangers from the club. That wasn't an excuse for why Jungkook smelled like fresh hot apple pie and sex. For God's sake, they hadn't been gone more than an hour. Jungkook froze in his search with wide eyes.

"It's not what you think, hyung," Jimin defended, turning to look at the rest of his pack, but not moving away from Yoongi.

"Jimin, what are you doing?" Hoseok's eyes examined the way Jimin held Yoongi against the wall with his body.

"Listen, we're just trying to help someone in need. There's nothing suspicious going on." Jimin held out his hands in a placating gesture. Hoseok was possessive, even for an omega, and he was already pouty about the betas wanting to go out earlier. Jimin should have known that he would be extra touchy about the situation, but he would just have to deal with it. "We found an omega in need and we brought her here. That's all."

Hoseok sucked in an annoyed breath, and that's when he caught it. Your warm apple scent had a sour edge that it shouldn't, not in heat, not unless you were feeling stressed. He leaned around Jungkook to look at your limp form resting on the couch. Fuck. "Bring her inside before every alpha in the neighborhood comes prowling around the yard," he huffed in spite of himself. More than one pack member let out a sigh he didn't know he was holding.

Jungkook slung your purse over his shoulder before bending to pick you up again while the others turned to go inside. Hoseok held the door open with a glare while he ushered you in, careful not to bump your head on the doorframe. It was embarrassing, truly, how affected Hoseok could see all the alphas already were by your scent filling the warm house. They bounded off toward the bedroom. If they had them, their tails would be wagging. Pathetic.

"Take her to the spare room," Hoseok instructed. No way was he letting you into his nest. He'd just washed everything today and it would only drive the alphas more crazy anyway. You would be better off in the spare room, which was cozy, and most often used by Jungkook and Yoongi when they came home in the middle of night and either didn't want to disturb the pack or didn't want to be suffocated by them. Taehyung also slept there sometimes when he painted late into the night. It often made Hoseok prickly not to have his two youngest mates in his nest, but he tried not to take it personally, and he made sure the room was well taken care of with items from each member of the pack. He hadn't washed the bedding this week, but Jungkook's scent was calming–Hoseok knew from experience, especially during heat–so you probably wouldn't mind. Not that the other omega cared if you minded, to be frank. You were an interloper and all that mattered to him was getting you out of here as soon as possible with minimal impact on his pack. Hoseok followed Jungkook into the bedroom and then stood in the doorway, arms braced against the frame as he faced his alphas, forming a formidable wall in front of them.

"You all get back to the living room right now," the omega ordered.

A distinctly Yoongi whine rose from the back of the group. He hadn't forgotten your scent or your warmth or the fact that you needed him. Needed alpha to help you. Needed him to—

"Jimin," Hoseok barked through Yoongi's haze. "Get these idiots settled in the living room, and Jungkook and I will take care of things here."

Quiet groans sounded, but Jimin just chuckled as he took Yoongi and Taehyung's wrists and coaxed them away. "Be nice, hyung. It's not their fault the pheromones make them dumb." He pushed Taehyung down into the corner of the couch before pressing Yoongi into his lap. The two didn't hesitate to touch and nuzzle each other, anything to take the edge off the neediness that you aroused in them.

Jin and Namjoon were more difficult to drag away, big dumb alphas that they were. They stood obstinately in front of the door. "Let us in, Hobah," Jin pleaded, not sounding at all like the pack alpha he was. "She needs her alpha."

Hoseok choked on his spit before he held up a hand in front of Jin. "You are not her alpha, Seokjin. And if you don't walk your ass over to the couch this instant you won't be my alpha either."

Jin ducked his head, properly chastised. He didn't know why he said that. He couldn't help it. It just slipped out. He grabbed Namjoon's arm, and the two wisely walked away.

Hoseok closed the door and turned to help Jungkook. As soon as he had set you down on the mattress, you had begun to squirm. Although he had initially been concerned about you having a concussion, he could see now that you were just deep down in the heat headspace, one ruled by instincts that had you seeking out comfort and relief. Your clothes were becoming soaked with sweat and your hair clung to your forehead. Jungkook watched as you flopped over onto your belly and followed your nose around in search of a nice spot on the bed. You found Yoongi's pillow and breathed in deep, followed by a muffled moan. "Alpha."

Jungkook began to feel uncomfortable, a tightness in his chest coiling as he watched you struggle in vain. But it also felt wrong to see. He had never seen a strange omega go into heat before. The only heats he had ever actually participated in were Hobi's, but before that he had only seen relatives in a state as vulnerable as this. Your shirt slid up your torso and you lifted your backside into the air and Jungkook flushed.

"Hyung," he said with quiet urgency.

Hoseok was picking up some discarded items from the floor in an attempt to clean up the room, but he looked up at the youngest's voice. "Can we do anything for her?"

Hoseok bit back another sarcastic comment and sighed. He reminded himself to find some compassion. You were in a dreadful state. He couldn't even imagine how distressing it would be to be around strangers, away from your pack in a heat as strong as you were clearly having.

"She might be more comfortable if she got out of those clothes."

As if in response to his words, you rolled over onto your back once more and began to fumble with the button on your pants. Little puffs of air left your mouth in huffs of frustration.

"Hyung, is she about to take her clothes off?" An edge of panic laced his voice. Hoseok rolled his eyes at the bashful beta. He had to do everything himself.

"You go get a couple of bottles of Gatorade from the kitchen. She'll be needing the electrolytes. I'll try to get her…settled." Jungkook nodded at the orders. "Oh, and take these and drop them in the washer," Hobi added before Jungkook turned to leave and held out the bundle of dirty clothes for him to take.

Jungkook hesitated. "Maybe we should leave them for her. They might help a little."

A pulse of possessiveness tweaked Hoseok's muscles and he gripped the cloth tighter in his hands. What right did you have to his pack's soothing scents? But he pushed it down and nodded, letting the younger man go. He left the pile of clothes at the foot of the bed and went to sit beside you. You still hadn't managed to remove any of your clothes yourself. Hoseok knew that some heats could be worse than others, especially when he was younger, or when the pack first started to form with Jin and Namjoon. He could see you were completely out of your senses, so far down into primal lust that you couldn't think straight or string three words together. Every now and then your face shifted in confusion, just for a second while your brain tried and failed to recognize anything familiar or comforting in your surroundings. The pained look finally brought Hoseok around to his empathy, and it kicked in with a surge in anger. He finally realized why Jimin and Jungkook had to bring you here, because truly who could let a helpless thing like you out of their sight? Hoseok reached out his hand to brush the hair away from your blazing skin. You keened into his cool touch, and he laid his palm flesh against your forehead. You relaxed for a moment, ceasing your constant wriggling.

"You are burning up, pup. We should get you out of these terrible clothes so you'll be more comfortable." You didn't respond but began to shift again without making any move to remove your clothing. "Is it okay if I help, little one?"

Again you didn't speak but your face morphed into a dopey expression that was almost a smile. Your glassy eyes seemed to sparkle. Hoseok couldn't even help the small smile that tugged his lips.

"I promise this is all business," he said as he began to unbutton your pants and then slowly tugged them down. When he had finally pulled your jeans off your feet you kicked them cutely in the air. You sat up on your knees, more energetically than you had been since he'd seen you. You reached down and pulled your shirt clumsily over your head, bringing a rush of blood to Hoseok's cheeks.

In spite of the fact that their pack was all male, most of them had been with women, just not Hoseok. He was young when he met Jin, so it wasn't that he wasn't interested or attracted, it just so happened that no women had come into their lives in any important way for Hoseok. And he definitely wasn't prepared for you stripping in front of him. He sat in stunned silence so long that he didn't realize what you had truly wanted was to get out of your bra until he heard you whine and noticed you clawing clumsily at your back, unable to even comprehend the clasp. Before he could move to help you there was a thud against the door.

"Do you need help, Hobi hyung?" Taehyung's voice carried through the wood. He must have been called by your whines too.

"Go back to the couch, Tae," the omega barked and heard a defeated whimper before footsteps moving away. "Let me help you, pup," he said more gently and twisted you around to access the tricky clasps. He wasn't much better than you due to his inexperience, but eventually he got it done. You slipped the offensive article down your arms and turned to him, inching closer as if to climb into his lap, not caring one bit that he was a stranger and you were nearly naked. Hoseok slipped off the bed to stand away from you. He picked up your shirt and held it out to you.

"Maybe you should put this back on now," he offered nervously. He tried desperately not to look down at your swollen, peaked nipples that were just begging for attention. Your apple pie smell turned sweeter, warmer, filling up the room.

Jesus. He wasn't even an alpha and you were still affecting him. He tried to hold the shirt up to cover you from his view and his omega brain came back online. This shirt was rough and had been tight fitting. It was the last thing you would want when your skin was so sensitive.

"I'll…I'll go get you something softer to wear," he said shakily. He dropped your shirt to the floor and looked around for something until his eyes fell on the clothes he had pulled up. He spread them out in front of you. "Here, you can wear any one of these in the meantime. I'll be right back."

To his relief you instantly brought one of the shirts to your nose and inhaled deeply before picking another and doing the same. It made a perfect distraction, and he was able to slip out the door. Outside, he took a deep breath and sighed in relief. Then he opened his eyes to a wide-eyed Jungkook and nearly jumped out of his skin.

"Is she okay?" The younger man asked, holding two different flavors of sports drink in his hands.

"She's okay for now but you do not want to go in there right now."

"I'll just go give her these," he said, holding up the two bottles.

"Leave them outside the door. We need to talk with the pack," Hoseok replied, regaining his composure. The beta did as he was told and followed his hyung to the living room where the others waited on the edge of their seats.

"Jimin, can you tell me what happened and where you found this poor girl?" Hoseok prompted. The four alphas tried hard to focus as Jimin quickly informed them on what had happened.

"Where is her pack? What if those men were her alphas?" Jin wondered aloud and hoped that wasn't true.

"It doesn't seem likely," Jungkook said. "If it was they would have tried to explain but they just ran off and left her."

"It doesn't make any sense. Why would she go out if she was going into heat? They can come on fast, but not that fast. Why wouldn't her alpha keep her at home? They must have smelled her." Hoseok stroked his chin while he spoke, searching for an answer he couldn't fathom.

"She must have been heading into work," Jungkook offered, recalling the bizarre conversation he had with your coworker earlier.

"Isn't that what heat leave is for?" Hoseok asked. Not that he would know. He'd grown up in a fairly traditional pack and never had an outside job a day in his life. He enjoyed staying at home and taking care of his pack. But he knew it was a luxury, and one he was grateful the pack could provide it.

"Heat leave still isn't a right for omegas. Not all employers offer it, nor are they legally obligated to," Jin informed them.

Jungkook nodded. "The woman I spoke to on the phone didn't even seem to know Y/N was an omega."

Taehyung's ears perked up. "Y/N?"

"That's what her driver's license said. Do you know her?"

Taehyung shook his head regretfully. "No. It's just a nice name," he murmured. Jin reached out to ruffle his hair.

"So how do we find her pack?" Namjoon asked.

"She didn't have any non-work numbers in her phone, so I think the next step should be to go to the address on her license and ask there." Jungkook got up to retrieve your ID from where he had shoved it in his pocket. "This address is only a few miles from here."

"I'll drive you," Jin offered, but Yoongi put his hand on the older alpha's shoulder.

"You should stay here with the pack, just in case anything happens. I'll go with Jungkook."

Jin gave him a grateful nod and Hoseok couldn't hide his relief either. Helpless and pathetic as you might be, it wouldn't have felt safe to have a stranger in the house without the pack alpha home.

"Do you want me to come with you guys?" Jimin offered. He didn't know what he would be able to do but he felt invested.

Yoongi cupped his cheek. "You're needed here, in case one of these guys breaks their chain," he grinned before he leaned in to kiss the pretty beta's lips. "We'll be back as soon as we can," he assured Hoseok with a kiss to the worried crease of his forehead.

"You be sure to read that alpha the riot act when you find them," Hoseok said.

"Sure thing, love," Yoongi winked before following Jungkook out the door.

A/n: thanks for checking out chapter one! Please send me lots of nice comments and questions! They help me figure things out and motivate me to keep writing! Check back for chapter 2, in which m/c is still mostly unconscious 😅

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[blughxreader]

The thing is, in the yandere-purge-world, there would probably be some advocates for reducing darlings wages in order to increase the wages of yanderes. The whole system depends on the classification of a yandere and their darling, like, how is it recognized?

If someone has to register as a yandere and register their darling before they get the purge letter, then maybe there should be some immediate procedures, such as the darling getting fired? But that would complicate companies, so it would become a communism vs. Capitalism debate, right?

The response would be governments placing darlings as ‘unable to work’, and yanderes would climb the banner, since the majority of the government would be yandere.

It would result in systematic oppression of darlings, so the darlings would be unable to work, and even if they retained their allowance to vote, the yanderes might not even let them outside.

Really, it’s just like the 1940s for the men vs. Women thing.

Oo this ask begs an important question—since suppression in this society is based off of yandere/darling/and unchosen & not-yet-crazy people, how heavily do personalities play a role in job opportunities/first impressions/government assistance/etc?

From this point on, i will call the third group of people Normals (ie the group of unregistered yanderes and people who haven’t been chosen as a darling by a yandere. All darlings and yanderes start out as Normals.)

In the Ye Old Era, circa 1800s and earlier, there was a zero-nuance understanding of Darlings and Yanderes, in the same way that men subjugated women.

Yanderes killed and pillaged to get what they want, and Everyone Else either murdered them back or were forced into submission. I doubt there was a registry of Yans and Darlings, because you were either someone’s bitch or you weren’t.

As the world globalized, societies modernized, technology developed, capitalism spread… Yanderes had to reel it in or face capital punishment. It was no longer acceptable to butcher your neighbor for their daughter/son.

Kind of like prohibition, there was a time in society where all murder, kidnapping, etc was illegal. This had unintended, bloody consequences as homicide and suicide actually increased.

Thus the Purge was born.

To answer your questions, I don’t think a darling would face any repercussions from being claimed by a yandere. The yandere has to actually kidnap them during the Purge before Darling loses any rights. Because up until Darling received their claim notice, they were Normal.

I bet there’s also laws to protect against discrimination based off class and personality type. Businesses are not allowed to discriminate, however I bet they’re also notified that a Darling has received a claim notice just in case they go missing after the Purge lol.

Systematic suppression runs deep. There’s no way around it. All the most powerful families and businesses are headed by yanderes. They own the economy, write the laws, etc.

Fortunately there are yanderes sympathetic to darlings, so eventually Darlings got their rights.

However!!! Imaging you’ve been held captive for a decade. What sort of job prospects do you have? Why would anyone want you when your degree is stale and you have insane therapy requirements.

What if the government gave willing Darlings to darling-less yanderes? Like, you’re incapable of integrating into the real world after being imprisoned, and there’s plenty of lonely yanderes out there, so why not pair up?

It could be a 6-month rehabilitation contract, to a lifelong “marriage.”

[cripplecharacters]

I have a character in a wheelchair, in a school/society that isn't up to modern code and would not be very accessible to wheel around in. Her chair is on the cheap side (definitely not motorized), and is a little old fashioned/outdated. She can't stand unassisted or walk more than a few feet at a time due to pain and balance issues (I'm still working on exactly what her diagnosis should be. Maybe I'll send you an ask about that later if I can't figure it out on my own) Do you have any advice - in general, but particularly on how to portray her friends helping her get around without making her seem helpless or committing any other faux pas? So far I know:

1: They should never touch her actual chair or pick her up, and so

2: Their help is mostly going to be delegated to changing the environment, not her. Opening doors, walking ahead to find an alternate smoother path, etc. (What if she's somewhere where there is no way through? Is it alright to have her leave the chair and lean on them or something in an emergency? Or should I just avoid writing those situations, favoring perception at the cost of realism?)

They don't follow her around everywhere, they're her friends not her caretakers, so she does get around by herself often. Is there anything else I should think about or is this alright?

Hey!

Sometimes it can be okay for them to touch her mobility aid if she allows them to. The never-touch-a-mobility-aid advice is real but is mostly meant for strangers who think they're helping someone by kidnapping them. Many wheelchair users get around exclusively by someone else pushing their wheelchair, it's all about consent.

If she needs to get to a place where the only way in are stairs, she might ask her friends to lift her wheelchair up with her still in it. But the key is that it's her initiative, and she's the one calling the shots because it's a very vulnerable position to be in. You can check out wheelchair skills videos like this one. Being in this scenario is obviously not ideal, but this is what people simply have to do.

I'd also try to figure out if she can transfer (get out of wheelchair into X and vice versa) on her own or not - if she can get on the ground safely and then back up, she could potentially learn to go upstairs backwards on her butt and drag her wheelchair in one hand, step by step. If she can walk a bit, she can use her wheelchair as a crutch and hold the railing with the other; for walking she can do that by leaning against a wall or holding onto someone for support. But if another person is involved, consent and warnings are key: they can ask where they should grab her by, she can tell them to walk slower or stop, instruct them how to safely sit her back in her wheelchair before they start walking, all that. They shouldn't treat her like a ragdoll who can't speak the moment she needs physical help.

If it's a modern-ish society then she could ask her friends to call the place they're visiting to check how accessible it is. Calling and trying to get it out of people gets exhausting so the friends could learn to pre-call before making any meeting in a place. It's more just being considerate than anything else.

I wouldn't try to avoid realism; if the setting is inaccessible to wheelchair users then it should be shown, otherwise it should simply be accessible in the first place.

Realism of course will affect the "alternatives" when it comes to access. Every larger building has a back door to roll the garbage out, and in places where accessibility is uncommon to nonexistent, this will be the only ramp to the building. Behind-the-building dark alley garbage ramps are their whole entire thing. Same for finding smooth paths, in many places wheelchair users have to go on the road to be able to go anywhere and risk being hit by a car. My point is that these alternatives largely do exist, but they're not meant for disabled people even if there is no other alternative. Exploring this could also help with making your setting feel more real in general.

For many of the issues of "what about XYZ scenario?", if you were to put it in any search engine you will find mobility aid users trying to figure out the same thing or giving others advice because inaccessibility is still one of the biggest issues out here that we encounter every day. The extreme majority of the world is inaccessible, and we try to adapt as much as possible; unless your actual scenario involves magic or aliens then there's definitely some sort of solution for it that's probably on reddit already.

[Disclaimer: not all wheelchair users can get out of their wheelchair without specialized equipment like a hoist. I assume that this is not the case for this character considering she can walk a tiny bit, but please keep this fact in mind for more severely disabled characters.]

mod Sasza

[xesnox]

Minecraft Wither.

Reupload from my Bluesky.

This was specifically a concept for my Minecraft game theories AU, I’m still figuring things out but I think this might come close to a final design,

It’s supposed to be the Wither, the one that wiped out a large chunk of the ancient builders. Might make it look more Devine / significant as a result but this is what we‘re rolling with for now.

Lore below cut.

About the Wither.

The Wither is an amalgamation of deceased human flesh and bone, ashes, biomechanical engineering and the souls of the soldiers who fell in the process of moving colonies to the nether. it is a product of said horrible dimensions way of harnessing death as a natural power source, and a result of a gone wrong (or perhaps divinely punished) resurrection attempt. It was called to life by an enormous wave of grief, hate, agony, death and mass hysteria following the discovery of soul magic and the first massive loss of one of the many strikes the Ancients made against the Piglin in a greedy attempt to conquer land.

The thing about the Ancients is that even though they appear to be just slightly less primitive than the average modern day builder in thought, they were, at some point, blessed by the gods, wich caused a strange process wich, if enough of them were present, had (sometimes physical) effect on the environment around them, and could lead to manifestation of whatever they believed. Wich ended horribly for them as all it took was a single bad event for an endless spiral.

The Wither was the first creature born of hate, not one wich was given life by the desire to progress as a society, but one that was born of pure unadulterated hate, grief and agony.

And it reflects its birthplace as such.

As it does nothing but spread just that like a plague, withering the ground below it and sending particles of decay flying, wich, if they were to touch you, would curse your skin to burn and rot wherever it made contact. It absorbs the death it causes, growing stronger the more destruction it spreads, but never loosing its goal: to hunt and kill all those responsible for summoning it.

But it, eventually, vanished completely alongside its creators, and has never been seen since.

If anyone in the modern day for whatever foolish reason decided to summon it, a disclaimer should be given that it is not entirely possible, at least not to our knowledge. You can recreate such a being in rough shape, size and behavior but no amount of intention can ever recreate the society wide wave of panic that summoned the creature that wiped out 87% of the overworld in the blink of an eye.

The creature you’d find yourself eye to eye with if you did succeed would be a lesser version of the one your ancestors had to face, three heads, each owning a white pair of eyes filled with concentrated soul energy, boney body, spreading death and decay across anything it touches; as it is a reflection of your own anger, ache and loss; but always, always primitive, and broken, lesser and incomparable. The creature they discovered was a virtually unkillable beacon of doom, the one you can is a personal shadow.

Still the introduction of such a massively destructive foe into an (especially a closed off) ecosystem of any kind is strictly prohibited, as it is extremely harmful for our still recovering Dimension as a whole.

@your-ne1ghbor @pennysucks

[genericpuff]

I wonder why christian misrepresentation are rarely talked about if compared to other religion misrepresentation. Like, I've seen people really vocal about Greek myths misrepresentation in LO and such (and it's valid because it's a culture and religion) but I rarely saw the same thing with christian even though there are many media who use christian religion innacurately, to the point where it comes off as using it as an aesthetic and not a proper religion.

Is it because of rampant religious trauma especially in western world? No ulterior motives on this question. I'm not a christian and yet I'm curious about this. I apologize if this sounds harsh.

I obviously don't have The Answer(tm) to this but personally speaking (and I'm about to get VERY personal here so take this with MOUNTAINS OF SALT), I think it's just the obvious - Christian mythology is one of the most well-documented and strongly protected out of virtually any other religion on the planet. Especially here in the West, it's commonplace for kids to go to Sunday school, for couples to have Christian weddings even if they're not practising Christians themselves, even the American anthem references the Christian God. It's simply not as easy to 'misrepresent' it because the representation is written into our very fabric of society. Even Greece itself is primarily made up of Orthodox Christians.

So anyone that does 'misrepresent' it are either completely mislead hardcore Christians, or people who are doing it intentionally, such as with the intent to make a parody of it or to deconstruct it through a different context or whatever have you. And of course, people will still get mad at those things, if you're implying that people aren't vocal about Christian misrepresentation then frankly IDK what to tell you there LOL If you want a contextual example in the realm of webtoons, Religiously Gay was dragged to hell and back during its launch for having a very crude and insulting depiction of St. Michael, and frankly, yeah I don't disagree because what the fuck is this-

(like at best it's just terrible character design lmao that said, there's also plenty else to criticize Religiously Gay for, including its fetishy representation of gay relationships and the fact that it's still just the "naive person who looks and acts like a child hooks up with mean person in a position of power" trope, blech, but the character design is definitely the first thing you notice)

There are even plenty of hardcore Christians who will deadass claim "misrepresentation" over things that ARE factually correct but they just haven't read the actual Bible and simply cherry pick what works for their own agenda. And of course those people are routinely called out by people like myself who know for a fact that Jesus wouldn't have promoted the war crimes that many modern day Christians are committing and justifying today. So it really depends on the definition of "misrepresentation" here.

The issue specifically with LO and Rachel that I personally call her out for (and many others) is that she's called herself a "folklorist" and claimed she's so much more knowledgeable on Greek myth than anyone else, while making a complete mockery of the original mythologies while not being honest about her intent as to whether LO is actually supposed to be a legitimate retelling OR a parody (because it sure acts like the latter more than the former, but she still seems to expect us to take it seriously and consider her knowledge of Greek myth superior?) Which leads to a lot of her teenage audience claiming shit like "Persephone went down to the underworld willingly" and "Apollo did assault Persephone in the original myths actually" and the classic "why would Lore Olympus lie or make up fake myths?"

You just can't pull off this extent of erasure with Christian mythology because we have a whole ass book of it that's been preserved, sold on shelves, and systematically integrated into society for thousands of years. Of course, there are people who will still try their damned best to twist the Bible to match their own bigotry with the whole "Jesus hates gays" bullshit (he would never), but it's met with equal amounts of 'misrepresentation' that are actually fully well-read and are intentionally subverting and changing things to either critique, parody, or restore the original intent of a lot of stories in the Bible without all the manufactured right-wing crap.

Greek myth, on the other hand, has some stories that are well preserved, and others, not so much. And in the modern day outside of the poems and hymns, you'll also rarely, if ever, see anyone use stories from Greek myth to ostracize, torture, and murder other people. "Misrepresenting Christianity" is more often done by actual Christians who are using the Bible to commit hate crimes than the people who have actually read the Bible and are just taking creative liberties with it for the sake of deconstructing / parodying / analyzing / subverting it. Veggie Tales "misrepresents" Christian stories because obviously Moses wasn't a fucking cucumber lmao but it still accomplishes its goal by retelling Christian stories in a way that's fun and educational for children.

By comparison (on the whole, I'm not comparing LO to Veggie Tales LMAO) LO just isn't clear in its intentions beyond Rachel's initial statements that she was trying to "deconstruct" the myths, while labelling herself as a folklorist. Therefore, I'm going to criticize how she does it because the way she's done it up until now has been very mishandled and has resulted in a lot of misinterpretations of the myths simply for the sake of fandom. And yes, these people exist in Christian media as well - they're called TV evangelists.

And that's my (very heavy) two cents.

[lilly-chou-chou]

Evolution of Gyaru

Hello everyone the long awaited post is here!! Sorry for the delay I has gone back to my he country to celebrate Lunar New Year.

As we all know Gyaru was and still is one of the most important fashion movement in the history because it's roots of opposing the "good girl" and "submissive" societal views of women that Japan had imposed into them.

During 90's with Namie Amuro being the first idol ever to popularize the Gyaru culture created a huge wave of community in all over Japan which eventually created many subcultures under it, over the years gyarus blossomed for 2 decades heavily but around early-mid 2010's the culture slowly died because people were now really trying to shun them out of the society, gyarus was losing it's popularity and old gyarus were getting to age of finding jobs or trying to get married yet the culture is still alive. There have been multiple support and love coming from international fans too.

Egg magazine, which is holy grail for us gyarus followers is still up and running to this day <3

Today i'll show you just a little glimpse of modern gyaru. Hopefully this will help new followers too.

Gyaru of the past:-

So let's start with how gyarus are usually seen, pictures below are gyarus from their peak eras so definitely from 90's to 2000's. They are all different subcultures but they all have one thing in common the eye makeup, gyarus were and are still known for their beautiful luscious eye makeup. They are what you call

They were our guide, our mothers and everything! Gyaru has always been the most supportive community to ever exist, over here women were allowed to cuss, they were allowed to be brash, they were allowed to have male friends without the judgement of two goody shoes with insecurities, they were allowed to wear clothes that liberated them doesn't matter short or modest.

People often forget that gyaru exists more than manba, agejo and kogal, few of the modest and lesser knows subcultures are amekaji and roma gyaru, although amekaji is is blue eyed perfect grass is greener on the other side take of American inspired fashion. Either way it is one of the most fun subculture to exist.

We as gyaru followers ow everything to these past mother figures, without them and without brands like alba rosa, D.I.A and MA*RS we and egg Magazine teaching us what? How? And why? We would never thrive in this era. We owe it to them all even after decades and decades the magazines, scans and tutorials on YouTube by the OG gyarus have done it all <3

Modern Gyaru:-

The pictures below are the present models of Egg magazine. The last OG gyaru issue was stopped in 2014 which was Egg last physical print of magazine but in 2018 Egg came back as online magazine.

A lot has changed in gyaru world. Long gone are the days of owning specific clothing brand or even wearing clothes that resemble even the least of typical gyaru fashion. The only key point which hasn't changed is eye makeup because that is utmost necessary thing for a gyal to have.

Over the years of almost dying to again alive fashion culture the meaning of gyaru has changed a lot, from dressing like the OG gyarus we have now evolved to the whole "gal is mind" mindset, now in this era dressing up as gyal doesn't mean that much because you can still have pointy acrylic nails, iconic eye makeup, wear casual clothes and still be a gyaru.

These days even the gyaru slangs have changed so much like instead of poyo, atonsu, pachikoku now we use yarirafi, kyun-desu, daijuobu-so?, tobu-zo and so on.

Although there are egg models that still somewhat follow OG gyaru fashion like @ / mahiroisme (left) and @ / kae. 06256 (right) on IG.

Conclusion:-

By this post I just wanted to show that as time passes it is inevitable that everything changes and fashion changing is a no brainer. What is hate is companies capitalizing and making their own rules for lure in newbies gyals who would do anything to "fit in" and ring the nostalgia bell for old gyarus and all I have to say is that no, you don't have to spend 100-500$ on eBay trying to find the OG gyaru brands because you can definitely wear your own casual clothes and still be a gyaru because if egg magazine who raised whole generation of x gen, millennials and Gen Z of gyarus then who are we to judge them?

Although if you still wish to dress up like OG then I definitely recommend finding clothes that match the subculture that you want to follow for example I follow agejo, Tsuyome and kogal so I shop in Amazon, local stores, Instagram stores, I order clothes fr abroad the most helpful and fast way to do that finding a vendor and my vendors are all from Instagram. Hope this helps.

I will meet you all in my next post bye gyals <3