#if they actually have reason to question you. there are procedures in place for them to do so. at which point you Get A Lawyer

[latenightreadingpdf]

Knock on the Door - Spencer Reid

₊‧⁺˖⋆ Masterlist ⋆˖⁺‧₊

Summary: In the midst of an intense investigation, Spencer and Derek bring you into protective custody after a disturbing discovery links you to their case. As you navigate the unexpected situation, Spencer’s calm presence offers reassurance, sparking an unexpected connection amid the chaos.

⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆

The quiet street was a far cry from the usual high-stakes BAU scene, but the tension in the air made Spencer’s skin prickle with unease. He glanced at Derek, who was already preparing to knock on another door, exuding his usual calm confidence.

"This one could be a lead," Derek muttered, showing a slight glint of hope in his eyes as he raised his hand to knock. The case had been dragging on, and frustration was growing with each unanswered question.

When the door opened, Spencer noted the faint hint of confusion in your expression. Derek immediately flashed his badge, his tone respectful but firm. "Ma’am, I'm Agent Derek Morgan. This is my colleague, Dr. Spencer Reid. We’re with the FBI."

Your eyes darted between the two of them, registering the serious expressions they wore. "The FBI? What's going on?"

"Have you had any strangers come to your door recently trying to sell you something?"

A flicker of recognition passed over your face, and Spencer leaned in, catching the shift. "Actually, yes,” you said, brows furrowing. “A guy came by yesterday… He gave me his card.”

Spencer and Derek shared a look. "Do you still have that card?" Spencer asked, trying to keep the urgency out of his voice.

"Yeah, I think so. Let me grab it." You turned back into the house, leaving the door partially open, and returned a moment later with a card in hand. As Derek took it from you, he confirmed with a nod that it matched the cards left at the other crime scenes.

You looked between them, anxiety creeping into your voice. "What is going on? Who is this guy?"

Spencer’s voice softened, his gaze meeting yours directly. "We believe he's a dangerous criminal who may be responsible for several recent homicides. His method involves gaining entry to homes under false pretenses."

Your face paled as the weight of his words sank in. Derek placed a reassuring hand on your shoulder. "We need to take you back to the station to make sure you’re safe. There are some steps we’d like to take to ensure you’re protected while we gather more information."

"Safe? Is he going to try and kill me?"

Derek’s expression turned serious. "We have reason to believe he might try to come back, and it’s important we get ahead of him."

A sense of dread settled over you as you let their words sink in. You followed them to the car, feeling your stomach twist with a mix of fear and disbelief. As you settled into the backseat, Spencer turned to give you a reassuring nod.

“Just so you know,” he began, his tone gentle, “we’ll have officers posted near your home to ensure he doesn’t have the chance to get in. We’re taking every precaution.”

“Thanks,” you murmured, your voice barely above a whisper. “It’s just… a lot.”

“Understandable,” Spencer said, glancing at you with a sympathetic look. “We’ll also have you meet with a sketch artist and undergo a cognitive interview. It’s standard procedure, and it might help us learn more about him.”

You looked out the window, processing the reality of the situation. The quiet chatter between Derek and Spencer drifted over you as they discussed possible motives, patterns, and theories. But for now, you were too lost in your own thoughts to make out their words.

⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆

When you arrived at the station, Spencer took a moment to walk you through the cognitive interview process. "It’s designed to help you remember specific details," he explained, his voice calm and assuring. "It might feel intense, but I’ll be with you the whole time."

You nodded, glancing around the bustling police station, feeling a strange mix of curiosity and adrenaline. "Okay, so… I just answer questions, and you’ll be able to get a clearer picture of this guy?"

Spencer gave you a small smile. "Pretty much. Think of it as helping us paint a portrait. Every detail, no matter how small, could be useful."

The interview went smoothly; Spencer’s presence was patient and encouraging, never making you feel pressured to remember something you couldn’t. Afterward, he led you to a small break room, offering you a seat at a worn table with a coffee machine humming nearby.

A few minutes later, Spencer returned with two steaming cups, handing one to you. "Here," he said, "it's not gourmet, but it’ll keep us awake."

You took it gratefully, feeling a sense of normalcy settle in. "Thanks, Spencer." You sipped the coffee, savoring the warmth. "I didn’t expect to spend my afternoon in an FBI station, but… it’s definitely more interesting than my usual routine."

Spencer chuckled, seeming surprised by your laid-back attitude. "Most people aren’t as calm in situations like this."

You shrugged, feeling the weight of the situation but refusing to let it get the best of you. "I don’t know. I figure, if I’m in good hands, there’s no point in freaking out."

As you chatted, Spencer filled you in on some of the behavioral profiling techniques they used, giving you a peek into the mind of the BAU. His eyes lit up as he explained the ways they’d been analyzing the unsub’s behavior to find any possible patterns, and you found yourself genuinely interested, asking questions and absorbing his answers.

"Do you ever wonder why people do these things?" you asked thoughtfully, watching him as he considered your question.

"All the time," Spencer replied, his voice softening as he looked down at his coffee. "But there’s rarely a straightforward answer. The best we can do is study the behaviors and try to make sense of them. Hopefully, it helps us stop them."

A sense of respect grew in you as he spoke, and you found yourself admiring the dedication he had for his work. "That sounds exhausting. Important, but exhausting."

"It can be," he admitted, his gaze meeting yours. "But it’s worth it, especially when it means keeping someone safe. Like now."

You smiled, feeling a warmth spread through you at his sincerity. "Well, I guess I’m lucky you guys were around."

The door to the break room opened, and Derek poked his head in, giving Spencer a grin. "You two doing all right in here?"

Spencer nodded, standing up to update Derek on the details you’d given during the interview. As they talked, you finished your coffee, feeling a strange sense of calm despite the unusual circumstances.

When Derek turned his attention to you, his gaze softened. "We’re going to have a team set up around your house tonight, keeping a close eye on things. We’ll catch this guy if he shows up."

You nodded, feeling reassured. "Thanks, Agent Morgan. I know you guys are handling it, so I’ll let you do your thing."

Spencer glanced back at you with a small smile. "If you need anything, or have more questions, just let me know."

As they walked you to the main desk, Spencer looked back, his gaze soft. "We'll keep you safe," he assured you once more, his sincerity unmistakable. "Until then, try not to worry. We’re on it."

A small smile tugged at your lips as you nodded. "I trust you," you replied, giving them one last grateful look before they escorted you to a waiting area. And as you waited, you felt a sense of calm, knowing you weren’t facing this alone.

⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆

[becausegoodheroesdeservekidneys]

Archive link because paywall but LOOK WHAT'S IN THE TIMES. CLOWNFALL BEHIND THE SCENES. https://archive.is/GdLCM

Oh DAAAAAAAAMN

God there's so much in this but let's start with:

November 7 I am blessed with the use of a car to share with Commons leader Penny Mordaunt. On its first outing, the government car service sends a very pleasant driver who has clearly never been outside the M25 and is totally unfamiliar with the rural, unlit lanes of west Wales. We crawl along, following the verge in and out of every yard and gateway until we get to a road with white lines, where normality is restored.

Lmao.

BUT HOLY SHIT THERE'S SOME GOLD HERE. My favourite entry:

January 11, 2023 Just before PMQs we get a call to say one of our MPs, Andrew Bridgen, has made a Twitter connection between the vaccine rollout and the Holocaust. No 10 is initially inclined to “demand an apology” but due to Bridgen being an utter knob, we agree the more decisive and meaningful course of action is to suspend the whip with “immediate effect”. The antivaxers go spare; to them our move confirms the Deep State is at work. The reality is he is a malevolent creep whom nobody likes, and we really don’t need him in our party. A massive cheer goes up in the whips’ office when I tell them.

Get fucked Andrew you disgustoid.

Meanwhile:

June 7/8 Harriet Harman calls by to tell me her privileges committee will publish the report into Boris [Johnson] on June 29 and hand it to him on Friday at noon. It will recommend a 20-day suspension, which will almost certainly result in a recall motion and by-election. Brace for impact. I speak to BoJo, who is questioning whether there is any procedural route by which we can kill off the report or at least vote it down. In any normal circumstances, a former PM asking for special treatment would be a big deal but this being Boris, it doesn’t surprise me at all. Worryingly, it doesn’t even annoy me that much either. So I remind him, as nicely as I can, that it was he who set up this process, he who approved its terms of reference and he who accepted Harriet Harman as its chair. “But I was in India and I wasn’t concentrating,” comes the reply. “I left it all to the whips.” Not sure that will wash, even if it were true.

GOD I'm so glad he's gone. Fucking hell, you get away from the crass incompetence of that fucking buffering pig-stuffed buffoon mask for a couple of years and your mind heals and forgets just how bad he was.

July 6 The standards committee publishes its report on Chris Pincher (accused of groping a young man), concluding with an eight-week suspension. He is finished. On the face of it, the sentence seems unbelievably harsh given he has lost his job, all his money and most of his friends. On the other hand, maybe we are all discovering that “squeezing people’s arses” is not acceptable, however fleetingly or however drunken the circumstances.

Yeah, Simon, maybe you are learning sexual harassment is not acceptable, Jesus Christ. I also managed to forget the extent to which Simon Hart is Mammy's Specialest Turd. But that's actually a good thing, because this whole thing is written as him just having the most increasingly stressful year of his entire life as Tory after Tory goes to an orgy and shits on someone's head, or goes to a party dressed as Jimmy Saville and fucks a blow-up doll, or Suella Happens Again. The whole thing is increasingly written like he wants to cry, but also like he's the One Reasonable Man in the whole place; particularly interesting is the way he tries to throw others under the bus when he was all on board with their shit while in power.

Anyway. Christ I'm glad to see the back of them all.

[theeartuaist]

The Most Terrifying Yandere: When They Have ACTUAL Power

I've rambled before about the yanderes that both fascinate me and keep me up at night – the manipulative ones who isolate you so gradually you don't notice until it's too late, the ones who are SO self-aware that they can't be reasoned with because they KNOW exactly what they're doing...

But there's another type that genuinely makes my skin crawl in the best/worst way possible: The yandere with actual POWER.

I'm not talking about yanderes with supernatural abilities (though they are terrifying, too - I'll maje a post dedicated to them another day). I'm talking about yanderes who hold positions of REAL institutional authority and can use legitimate systems against you. The ones who don't just stalk you – they have the means to LEGALLY monitor you. They don't need to break into your house – they have the AUTHORITY to enter it.

Think about it:

A methodical, calculated MENACE of a police officer yandere. They don't need to install hidden cameras in your home – they can park a patrol car outside your house and call it "routine surveillance."

They have access to traffic cams and license plate readers. They can run background checks on anyone who comes near you. They know exactly how long they can detain someone without cause. Every new friend in your life gets pulled over for a "broken taillight" and subtly threatened. Your ex suddenly has outstanding warrants. And if you try to report them? Guess who takes the report. Guess whose colleagues handle the investigation. Guess who knows exactly how to make evidence disappear.

Or a judge yandere doesn't need to break the law to ruin you – they ARE the law. They can sign warrants to search your property, freeze your assets for "ongoing investigations," and grant themselves custody if you have children together. They know every legal loophole, every procedural delay tactic. Their colleagues trust their judgment implicitly. Every legal avenue of escape gets mysteriously blocked by "proper procedure."

Or consider a psychiatrist yandere – the absolute nightmare of someone who can literally have you committed. Who can diagnose you with paranoid delusions when you try to expose them. Who has detailed notes on every vulnerability you've ever shared. Who can prescribe medications that make you foggy, compliant, dependent. "You're experiencing paranoid thoughts about me? That's a symptom we discussed in our session last week. I'm concerned your condition is worsening. I think we need to adjust your medication." And everyone – EVERYONE – believes them over you, because they're the expert on your mental health.

Or worse, what about a government official yandere. They don't need to hack your accounts – they have legal access to your data. Every email, every search, every location ping. They can flag you as a person of interest the moment you try to flee. They can ensure you're "randomly selected" for additional screening at every airport. They can see every conversation you have asking for help and be waiting when you arrive at the "safe place" someone offered. Maybe they can even flag your passport, freeze your accounts for "suspicious activity," and make you a person of interest the moment you try to flee.

The absolute nightmare of having someone obsessed with you who can also leverage entire SYSTEMS to keep you. Someone whose authority is rarely questioned. Someone who doesn't need to hide their surveillance because it's LITERALLY THEIR JOB to watch people.

What makes these scenarios so much more terrifying than the typical yandere is that you can't even prove anything wrong is happening. It all looks legitimate on paper. It all follows protocols and procedures. There's always a plausible, professional explanation:

"We received an anonymous tip about your friend's involvement in illegal activities."

"These medications are standard treatment for your condition."

"This restraining order against your family member is based on documented threats."

"Your passport has been flagged due to identity verification concerns."

While they systematically cut off every escape route you might have.

The nightmare scenario isn't just being trapped by someone's obsession – it's being trapped by their obsession and the entire infrastructure of society backing them up because of their position. It's having your reality slowly rewritten not just by one person but by records, documents, and systems designed to be trusted.

What defence do you have when the very institutions meant to protect you become the architecture of your prison? When the person obsessed with you doesn't have to hide in the shadows because they have an office with their name on the door and the authority to keep you right where they want you?

[melodic-haze]

h-hey 👯‍♀️😕😜🎀

Since you said in your other post that you wanted to write for either Miko or Ei, I HAD AN IDEA!!

What if Miko and fellow kitsune!Reader who start their breeding months (in january obviously) and have Ei volunteering herself to them not knowing that they can’t obviously be sated in just one day 🙄 (r.i.p her cunny)

☆ — DEMO TRACK: switch!Miko x sub!Ei x dom!Reader

☆ — TYPE: NSFW

☆ — CONTENT WARNINGS: Reader and Miko can shift what they want (specifically their genitals 😄), knotting and breeding (not really)

☆ — NOTES: You. YOUUUUUU. Are such a genius ily anon ty for this 🙏🙏🙏

Ohhhh this bitch REALLY fucked around and found out LOL I almost feel bad.......almost

Have to hand it to Ei though, she DID try to research before proposing the idea in the first place. Especially since this is set in the first year since she got out the PoE........but studying it obv won't be the same as the real thing LOL

You and Miko have fared relatively okay on your own—the two of you have ABSOLUTELY mated before to ease each other's heat but it always felt like something was missing. You both made sure to take procedures to make sure neither of you ever concieved a child after the process with the excuse of the two of you being way too busy to care for one but like. The actual main reason was that if you were to have a child, you both wanted to have the third piece of the puzzle there with you

Now that the third member of your polycule's back, your heats are STRONGER THAN EVER bc wtf she's acc here??? Ughfhghfhh neeeeeed......like do you get me I hope you do

It wasn't as if it was a normal discussion to have out in public (you both always talked about it indoors until neither of you needed to really talk ab it anymore from all the time spent w each other) but it was a nice picnic between the three of you; Ei's head was on Miko's thighs as she ate up yet ANOTHER skewer of tricolour dango while you were leaning on the latter's side when she brought it up

Ei cleared her throat with a slight tinge of nervousness, "Could I perhaps, ah.. assist the both of you in your mating period?"

You choked on the dango that you were about to swallow as you see Miko startle the slightest bit, nearly dropping her novel in the process.

When you managed to regain your composure (or at least a modicum of it), you could only rush out a simple "'scuse me?" as Miko placed her book down to the side with a raised brow.

Miko combed her fingers through Ei's hair as she questioned, "What brought this on, dear?"

"Well..." The Archon licked her lips as she slowly got her words out, "I've.. left you two for over five hundred years. And while I'm glad that you both had each other for company whenever the season hits, I cannot deny that.. well, I feel bad, I suppose."

"You feel bad," the shrine priestess mocked, which.. really, wasn't all that undeserved, despite the fact that she was mocking the nation's leader.

"For a lack of a better word, yes." She sits up and turns to the both of you, putting the now-empty skewer aside, "Now that I have returned from my admittedly self-imposed isolation, it would be remiss of me to.. avoid my duties as your lover."

"I don't mean to be rude, Your Excellency," you teased, "but do you even know what you're saying? You've been in the Plane of Euthymia for so long; I worry for your safety."

You hear the pink fox envoy let out a quiet snort of amusement for your slight condescension (all in good faith, of course) as Ei sighed, "I think you forget that I am not a fragile mortal who needs to be coddled—I can withstand brutal wars and come out victorious."

"Besides," she adds, "I have done a fair amount of research to refresh my knowledge. I assure you both that I can take whatever it is you give me."

Miko mused, "I thought you knew better than to rely on textbook information rather than actual experiment, Ei."

"You're trying much too hard to dissuade me from my offer."

"We both deserve to rib into you for at least a couple hundred years."

"Especially considering how we've been left to fend for ourselves..."

"I.. suppose I do deserve that. And I want to make amends for it all, starting with this. So.. will you let me help? Please?" She looked at the both of you with such sincerity despite the subject matter.

...

The fact that Raiden Ei herself was begging the two of you though...

The both of you jumped her sides with sharing grins, your ears flicking in sync as you let out your own laughs.

"You should hope that you don't regret that, Ei.."

"..Because we are rather.. insatiable."

Then comes the actual thing and ohhhhh girlie was NOT prepared

When I said your heats get worse bc of how Ei's back, I fucking MEAN IT. It's the fact that that familiar sweet smell isn't just a not-quite-forgotten memory for you two anymore that it's just driving you both abslutely NUTS

When she gets to you two she gets POUNCED ON and there is. Basically no break for her at all and foreplay is basically foreGONE atp tbh

Eat her cunt like a bitch STARVED it's like both you and Miko are competing and assisting each other at the same time like who can eat her out better, who can make her squirt, etc etc

SO MANY BITE MARKS ON HER HOLY SHIT like okay yes on you and Miko as well but both of you want to mark Ei EXTREMELY for all the time you've lost with her. The both of you wanna show both Ei and perhaps the entirety of Inazuma that archon is YOURS at the end of the day......at least, if the loud noises didn't give them enough of a hint 🤷‍♀️

You're so right anon rip Ei's cunny indeed bc both you and Miko ABUSE the living HELL out of it❗️❗️❗️ You do often have to personally pry Miko off when she's overstaying in the spot you're supposed to share 🫶🫶🫶🫶 just tell her she's being a VERY bad girl rn and she'll fold. Usually she wouldn't but the haze (lol) in her mind is sooo fucking thick she can't think straight and she can't think of the witty remarks she would've otherwise made :((( poor baby the only thing she wants to do is breed and get bred :(((((((

I need to spitroast her with Miko so very badly I'm ngl to you I neeeed I NEEEEED I need to see Ei being impaled on both ends, both sides basically slobbering

It'd be very messy and would 100% take so long before you finish but when you do, it's with your fellow kitsune's own pussy practically filled to the brim and Leaking as she's laid out and finally passed out as your hips are locked in on your Archon's own; you cumming inside of you for like the nth time and stuffing her full w a mix of both your and Miko's cum and essentially plugging it with an inflamed bulb :3

Whether Ei has a system that allows her to get pregnant or not, gen who knows.......but one thing's def for sure. Or like three things acc: one, you two are VERY clearly excited that your shared lover is finally back; two, turns out she absolutely LOVES being used and bred by her two partners; and three?

It was an unusually hard thing to do, waking up. Despite having an artifical body and being an archon that has faced true horrors and extreme exhaustion, she found herself absolutely spent from the marathon.. copulation.

Ei had hoped that her exhaustion meant that the two of you were much more tired than she was, even despite your inhumanity, and yet...

Her eyes couldn't help but flutter open as a sudden gasp left her lips—she sees you push into her roughly with a lust-addled look on your face. You were already inside her when she fell asleep, considering the animalistic knot that held the both of you together, but even when it had shrunk to a more.. manageable level, you still hadn't taken it out.

Then Ei looks slightly to the right and there she sees her pink-haired familiar, heavily breathing as she grinded her wet, hot pussy onto her thighs with such loud, obscene moans.

(If the Archon listened close enough, which she did, she would've noticed the slight growl to the sounds she made—such a sound was at its most clearest when she ducked down to press another bite mark on porcelain skin.)

She couldn't even utter a word to remark that she had just woken up, didn't even have the room to do anything to stop you before you started pounding away at her like your life depended on it.

..And she could. Really, she could. She wasn't the feared Raiden Shogun for nothing.

She could stop you if she wanted to.

If she wanted to.

But when she feels the residual fluids within her gush out as you essentially resculpt her insides over and over and over, when she feels the desperate whines that Miko lets out as she cums and covers her thigh in slick, well.

She finds that she doesn't really want to.

(And really, not only was it her fault for volunteering, but this is her responsibility as your lover.)

(She knew that, and she wasn't going to start shirking her responsibilities again.)

(Even if it costs her her mobility for a while. But it's fine, she can just do a lot of maintenance after.)

[bimboficationblues]

I'm interested in your thesis that liberalism is related to desire for security. To me it seems completely counter-intuitive since conservativism is the primary political ideology that is characterised by desire for rules-based security, and liberalism with its eponymous focus on "freedom" is more of a counter-movement to that. We may have different definitions of liberalism (I'm in Europe) and I haven't read any of the authors you listed, so I dont quite understand where you're coming from. If you'd like to expand on that a bit - especially how you'd place conservativism in that analysis - I'd like to read it. :)

ty for the question it's a helpful one! hopefully I can actually spell out the broad strokes without just starting to write the book. (I'm not sure I can.) this is all preliminary tracings so I welcome comments, questions, criticisms.

let me cut it to the size of a paragraph: my view is that "security," construed broadly, is the implicit or explicit value underlying basically all of liberal political philosophy and statecraft; this claim is fundamentally linked with my reading of liberalism as a form of legalistic, technocratic aristocracy (literally: "rule of the best"), which wears the skin of democracy as long as its rule is not at risk.

okay, so, working definitions of terms.

What do you mean by liberalism? What about conservatism, isn't that a better example of what you've identified?

Liberalism is a bunch of different things falling under an umbrella term. I find the term "ideology" slippery, so I'm going to try and avoid it here.

When I use the term I am referring to a particular lineage within the history of political thought. That includes a lot of different political actors - philosophers and writers, workers and activists, domestic and international statesmen. Liberalism is not just a particular structure of belief or self-identification held by people or political parties. Rather, I see liberalism as the organizational principles of global capitalism, the mode of thought proper to capitalism's sustenance via the management of the modern state.

My view is that the two things you've highlighted are the broad, self-justifying narratives of these different modes of political thought. "Liberalism is about guarantees of equality, rights, and freedoms, and conservatism is about stability through the preservation of social tradition and culture." I will note that when spelled out in the abstract like this, these things are not actually in inherent contradiction with each other. When you break them down in practice or dig through the details of thought, you find a very different picture. Liberal political thought's values, on investigation, are only about freedom and equality and democracy insofar as those things secure property and the rule of capital. Instead, the substantive values of liberalism are revealed as security, private property, aristocracy (i.e. that "the best" should rule), expansionist empire, "the defense of civilization."

The distinction I would draw, if I wanted to distill the two down, is that conservatism demands obedience as an absolute condition of authority, that the possession of the authority is sufficient justification for obedience (the power wielded by earthly authorities, or perhaps capital itself, being a microcosm of the power wielded by a god). Liberalism demands obedience because it claims that existing in society entails a procedural buy-in; the justification for soliciting obedience is grounded in appeals to reason and practicality. (John Locke's notion of "tacit consent," JS Mill's claim that despotism is an acceptable form of governance for "barbarians," or John Rawls' claim that "outlaw states" can be disciplined by liberal democracies for their alleged cultural failings.)

What about security?

If we step back from the ways in which the concept is historically and morally loaded (and Neocleous makes a convincing case why we shouldn't), we can conceive of security as an affect of predictability. We might think about it as the ability to wake up each day and not be worried about how you're going to feed and reproduce yourself, or that you might be hurt or killed or get sick, or that whatever projects you're investing your time and attention and values in will be taken away from you. This sort of risk-calculation can be on an individual or collective level: thinking about the people you surround yourself with, or that live in a given place, or potentially the whole planet as one integrated system.

On one level you might say life is inherently insecure by virtue of our relatively equal vulnerability to harm or death. There's always the hypothetical possibility that you could get really sick or freak weather could ruin your surroundings or you could fall in a hole and die. However, if the place you live is surrounded by holes, that's a very different type of insecurity, and your risk-calculation and predictions are suddenly vastly different from random events; even more so if there is some kind of agent, will, or specific force that can be identified as the cause of the insecurity.

When I say security is the central liberal category, that's not to necessarily say that actually having "security" is bad. Experiencing emotional security might be good (though maybe not ideal if you are actually extremely insecure); likewise, feeling "insecure" does not necessarily imply the actual absence of security. What's relevant is how liberalism defines security and its absence.

~~~~

My position is that liberalism, and its antecedent political economy, has a fundamental worry - conscious or unconscious - that class society (or "civilization") is inherently insecure or unstable, and offers specific answers for resolving that tension.

What I mean by "inherently insecure" is that the struggle between classes consistently generates a mass of people that have little to nothing, and a minority of people that have everything. See J.S. Mill, bemoaning this as a problem in Considerations on Representative Government:

In all countries there is a majority of poor, a minority who, in contradistinction, may be called rich. Between these two classes, on many questions, there is complete opposition of apparent interest. We will suppose the majority sufficiently intelligent to be aware that it is not for their advantage to weaken the security of property, and that it would be weakened by any act of arbitrary spoliation. But is there not a considerable danger lest they should throw upon the possessors of what is called realised property, and upon the larger incomes, an unfair share, or even the whole, of the burden of taxation; and having done so, add to the amount without scruple, expending the proceeds in modes supposed to conduce to the profit and advantage of the labouring class?

See also Hegel, in Elements of the Philosophy of Right:

When a large mass of people sinks below the level of a certain standard of living - which automatically regulates itself at the level necessary for a member of the society in question - that feeling of right, integrity, and honour which comes from supporting oneself by one's own activity and work is lost. This leads to the creation of a rabble, which in turn makes it much easier for disproportionate wealth to be concentrated in a few hands. [...] Poverty in itself does not reduce people to a rabble; a rabble is created only by the disposition associated with poverty, by inward rebellion against the rich, against society, the government, etc. It also follows that those who are dependent on contingency become frivolous and lazy, like the lazzaroni of Naples, for example. This in turn gives rise to the evil that the rabble do not have sufficient honour to gain their livelihood through their own work, yet claim that they have a right to receive their livelihood. No one can assert a right against nature, but within the conditions of society hardship at once assumes the form of a wrong inflicted on this or that class. The important question of how poverty can be remedied is one which agitates and torments modern societies especially.

This is not a very tenable or secure long-term situation - it will lead to unpredictable confrontations between classes - unless the parties involved find some solution that makes it tenable.

In my view, liberalism offers a very adaptable solution: the modern state and legal system. Instead of the collection of scattered/inefficient/arbitrary systems that characterize pre-industrial power - heredity, honor, sumptuary codes, ritual, personal relationships, traditional obligations - we find (or rather, make) a geographically bounded, unified nation that operates on a set of general principles, a common language both literal and political.

Things like money, markets, a robust system of positive law and mechanisms to enforce it, and the potential for reform strike a balance between 1) formalized, impersonal, predictable outcomes that ensure the sanctity of property goes undisturbed and the "rule of the best" continues - contracts and elections follow the same basic principles, and evaluating harm can be boiled down to "amounts of money" or "years spent in prison" - and 2) allowing for enough adaptability to respond to new circumstances, new innovations, and new crises. For an example, see Adam Smith, in The Theory of Moral Sentiments:

Would you awaken the industry of the man who seems almost dead to ambition, it will often be to no purpose to describe to him the happiness of the rich and the great; to tell him that they are generally sheltered from the sun and the rain, that they are seldom hungry, that they are seldom cold, and that they are rarely exposed to weariness, or to want of any kind. The most eloquent exhortation of this kind will have little effect upon him. If you would hope to succeed, you must describe to him the conveniency and arrangement of the different apartments in their palaces; you must explain to him the propriety of their equipages, and point out to him the number, the order, and the different offices of all their attendants. If any thing is capable of making impression upon him, this will. Yet all these things tend only to keep off the sun and the rain, to save them from hunger and cold, from want and weariness.

In the same manner, if you would implant public virtue in the breast of him who seems heedless of the interest of his country, it will often be to no purpose to tell him, what superior advantages the subjects of a well-governed state enjoy; that they are better lodged, that they are better clothed, that they are better fed. These considerations will commonly make no great impression. You will be more likely to persuade, if you describe the great system of public police which procures these advantages, if you explain the connexions and dependencies of its several parts, their mutual subordination to one another, and their general subserviency to the happiness of the society; if you show how this system might be introduced into his own country, what it is that hinders it from taking place there at present, how those obstructions might be removed, and all the several wheels of the machine of government be made to move with more harmony and smoothness, without grating upon one another, or mutually retarding one another’s motions. It is scarce possible that a man should listen to a discourse of this kind, and not feel himself animated to some degree of public spirit. He will, at least for the moment, feel some desire to remove those obstructions, and to put into motion so beautiful and so orderly a machine.

In legal terms, liberalism entails a commitment to specific kinds of procedural guarantees (formal equality and formal liberty as guaranteed by law) that allow for different substantive content to fill in the gaps between those procedures. A philosophical way to look at it is that liberalism adopts agnosticism on what "the Good" is besides a floor-threshold of what is acceptable (rights), in order to allow for "the Good" to be worked out through time and practice.

This is something I regard as both the central strength and weakness of liberalism as a philosophy of governance: its procedural flexibility allows for the reuptake of hostile forces - anti-liberals are pushed to fight on liberal terrain or risk irrelevance - but also allows competing movements that are designed to undermine some aspect of the liberal project.

To be clear, the liberal answer is not the only possible one, it is just the one that most characterizes modernity. A different answer might be religion, or some form of arbitrary authority: your proper place is servile, but your reward will be eternal bliss in the hereafter, or the favor of your lord, or the emotional satisfaction of doing what you're meant to do. (This is what I would describe as "the traditional conservative answer.")

Another answer, that of the Hitlerites, synthesizes the liberal and the religious answer and ramps a few things up: all of existence is inherently insecure, and made even worse because we are besieged with enemies within and without. but we can secure a future for that nation, for your children, through expansion and purification. (This is the "reactionary" answer.)

A final answer says that there is no true solution that can make class society tenable: that we have reached a point in the history of class conflict where we, every day, reproduce and participate in a spiraling system that depreciates all the things it needs to function, that constantly absorbs more raw material into its maw, and while the ruling classes and the managers can shift crises around or find innovative ways of managing them, the crises themselves can never truly be resolved so long as the rule of capital is maintained. It can only end in revolutionary upheaval "or the common ruin of the contending classes."

To be clear, that's what I think the stakes are of the project: the capitalist security state is in the middle of a substantive upheaval in its priorities as climate change worsens and the hegemonic role of the USA begins to wane, manifesting in prominent battles over the family/reproductive labor and immigration. All of these are fundamentally about the modern state's sense of insecurity as a result of problems made by class struggle. The ruling classes are competing between the right-wing, who want to build extensive fortresses as a buffer against climate refugees while hyperexploiting a terrified, disciplined underclass of migrant, domestic, and third-world labor, and the "liberals," who want to figure out a techno-managerial fix like geoengineering the planet (and making decisions about who, and where, will receive the "benefits" of that "mitigation") while hyperexploiting a terrified, disciplined underclass of migrant, domestic, and third-world labor.

~~~~

to give a rough sense of those different authors, hopefully to clarify how they relate to the project:

Landa’s book The Apprentice’s Sorcerer examines the mechanics of fascist political thought and finds its direct antecedents in "economic liberalism," basically the strain of liberalism that felt its democratic/political twin had gone too far. Through the commitment to formal freedom and equality under the law, liberalism had given the masses the opportunity and language to articulate their interests, fight for those interests in government and civil society, and potentially win (in the process disrupting society and the balance of class power). In some places - particularly France, Haiti, and Russia - the masses went way, way too far for economic liberal comfort!

Fascism then enters the picture as an alternative way to direct the masses, neutralizing that insecurity produced by mass politics - to “save liberalism from itself.” While fascism would deploy the language of anti-capitalism and anti-liberalism (usually in the form of a structural anti-Semitism a la the Strasser brothers, as well as various workerisms or producerisms), in practice, it was and is all financed by the usual Junkers and industrialists as all nationalist projects, and commits to norms and goals that were and are entirely typical of liberal states. Oswald Spengler (the guy who thought Hitler didn't go far enough because he still made appeals to the public) is my favorite example: his "Prussian socialism" is literally just the doctrine that work in service of the nation's wealth makes life meaningful and that workers should be grateful to have it. In other words, what Spengler calls "socialism" is just English political economy with a Prussian nationalist twist.

Geoff Mann’s analysis of Keynes’ General Theory and Keynesianism more broadly treats Keynes as participating in an intellectual legacy (preceded by Hobbes, Robespierre, and Hegel) of immanent critique of liberalism, one that currently sets the terms for "left politics" as hesitancy and fear of a revolutionary scenario because of the insecurity it would bring. All liberalism wrestles with the fundamental insecurity of class society, but Keynes is the rare one that sees this insecurity as essentially irresolvable (though Mann admits that Keynes couldn't quite name it as such). Keynes further regards the fundamental task as saving civilization from itself while avoiding the revolutionary alternative. From In the Long Run We Are All Dead:

“If an immanent critique is one that accepts the basic principles of its object, Keynesianism is simultaneously an immanent critique of liberalism and of revolution. It is the liberalism of those who (however reluctantly) acknowledge the continued historical legitimacy of revolution but claim to render it unnecessary, to “revolutionize” without revolution. One certainly might say this is impossible, and perhaps, in the long run, that is true. But, as Keynes himself said—and his point was not metaphorical—“in the long run we are all dead.” In the endless “short run” moments of deferral between now and then, the problem of maintaining civilization itself is the most pressing task of all.”

Mark Neocleous writes extensively on the concept of security and its relationship with the state, building his work around a younger Marx's claim that "security is the supreme concept of bourgeois society." This has obvious connections to this project. However, a lot of his focus is specifically on the more overt forms of state power, specifically war and police powers - I want to take things a step further (through legal philosophy) and argue that this emphasis on security is embedded in the structure of law itself, and not merely military force or the police power.

[tossawary]

The longer I sit on and look back at it, the more I unfortunately dislike "Star Trek: Discovery", especially the episode featuring the Kelpian homeworld. It's been bugging me. Sure, I'm maybe too soft on older ST shows comparatively, which are Trying, but also usually Should Have Known Better even back then; but ST:D happened at a point where the writers DEFINITELY Should Have Known Better, so I'm petty. Like, you have decades of people criticizing "Star Trek" for various reasons, so act like it.

So, spoilers for the Kelpian homeworld episode, because I am going to explain and then complain about it as best that I can remember it. Warning for discussion of character death, suicide, genocide, and non-consensual medical procedures. Long post.

One of the characters on the "Discovery" ship is a Kelpian named Saru, a refugee who escaped an oppressive homeworld and was permitted to join Starfleet. This homeworld is somewhat unique in that it has two sapient species: a prey species, the Kelpians, and a technologically advanced predator species that subjugates them in the name of a "necessary" balance. (I do not recall the name of the second species.)

At some later point in their life, all Kelpians experience something that I'll call Death Puberty. (It has a canonical name, I just don't remember it and this gets the point across to anyone without context.) Saru is not Human, but he is at a stage in his life that is equivalent to Human adulthood. When we first meet him, Saru has yet to undergo Death Puberty, which he believes will cause him to lose his mind and become a danger to everyone around him.

In his society, Death Puberty is when all Kelpians are required to present themselves to the ruling predator species so that they can be killed. It's the Great Balance.

Before we go to the Kelpian homeworld, there's an episode in which the ship encounters a sapient star. The star being emits some sort of signal that causes Saru to enter a premature / induced / unnatural Death Puberty. Saru is so completely convinced that he will go insane after this process that he tries to kill himself for everyone's safety. He persuades another character to kill him; and it's only the process abruptly being completed, apparently without ill effects, at the last possible minute that prevents Saru and his friend from going through with this.

Saru almost immediately concludes that his homeworld's narrative surrounded Death Puberty and the Great Balance is a lie. On one hand, this assumption makes sense, Saru is the one who actually had to experience this lie and surviving Death Puberty sane may have felt like everything clicking into place. Death Puberty also had the side effect of making Saru stronger, more assertive, and less afraid. I don't think it's unreasonable for Saru to feel angry and suspicious, nor was it necessarily unreasonable for him to emotionally jump to conclusions here.

On the other hand, I thought this was a little annoying (this is a really petty nitpick, I know), because Saru is supposedly a scientist. His Death Puberty, which neither he nor Starfleet have had the opportunity to study before, was unnaturally induced prematurely through an encounter with a sapient star, so his experience is presumably unique among his species. "What if my society is built on a horrible lie?" is a good question. I just wish that another character had brought up the uniqueness of the situation to Saru as a consideration, given that the future of a species may be on the line going forward.

So, in a later episode, the ship goes to the Kelpian homeworld to investigate.

Saru does quickly confirm that his society is built on a horrible lie. It turns out that the Kelpians were actually the predator species all along? Death Puberty does not cause insanity and is actually the process by which Kelpians enter their final, deadly form. The other species, which is actually a prey species of the Kelpian predator species, somehow became technologically advanced and created this "Kelpians are the prey species and must adhere to the Great Balance" oppressive setup. Final form Kelpians scare the shit out of them.

(The supposed logistics of evolution here are more than a little silly, but whatever. It's ST. Let's go with it.)

Plot happens and Saru and other characters end up in danger. The other species is more than willing to kill Saru to bury the truth and preserve their deadly lie.

I can't remember the exact order of events here, but somehow, the crew of the "Discovery" decide that the only way to save Saru's life and to forcibly push the truth through is to induce Death Puberty for the entire planet of Kelpians. Which they can somehow feasibly do using the signal they recorded from the star.

Supposedly, this planetwide forced Death Puberty for the Kelpians will scare the other species into backing down or some shit. After all, the other species can't just suddenly cull the entire planet, right?

This is one of those cases where I want to sit ST writers down and ask them: "Hi, what do you think that the in-universe Prime Directive actually means and why it might exist?" I don't know about you, but I think that the Federation probably has rules and regulations against subjecting an entire planet to a medical procedure that they did not consent to? I think that if you violate the bodily autonomy of a single person in that way, Starfleet should haul that captain up in front of a panel and say, "What the fuck??? What the fuck is wrong with you???"

Their solution is to VIOLATE THE BODILY AUTONOMY OF AN ENTIRE PLANET using an UNTESTED MEDICAL PROCEDURE that NOT A SINGLE MEMBER OF THAT SPECIES CONSENTS TO. (Not that a single Kelpian can consent to this on behalf of the entire fucking planet, but you get my point, right?) Ethical fucking nightmare.

This is also one of those situations where I have to put my head into my hands, because FUCK, the science fiction genre is never beating those "you guys sure love a White Savior (derogatory)" (and ST is never beating the "the Federation is just USAmerica in space (derogatory)") allegations at this rate. The "more advanced" and "more enlightened" Federation swooping in and getting to make decisions on behalf of these "less advanced" and "brainwashed" new worlds is essentially what "Deep Space Nine" was criticizing back in the 90s.

This random fucking crew is deciding what happens to these people's BODIES!!! I don't even think there's a doctor on the bridge when this is decided! Not that it would be okay if a doctor signed off on it! You CAN'T just subject people to a medical procedure they can't consent to! And with how often ST tries to say something about eugenics and sapient rights, this action SHOULD BE in-universe explicitly about a hundred different kinds of illegal.

Even if the entire planet of Kelpians sign off on that shit afterwards, it still wouldn't be okay. Everyone involved in making this decision and making it happen should be, at minimum, kicked out of Starfleet, on principle. Someone should be put on trial for this. You don't get to decide what to do with other people's bodies for them.

So, that's a problem. I don't think ST can meaningfully claim to be about seeking a better future if it's going to have a Starfleet ship violate the bodily autonomy of an entire planet without any consequences. But this action just flies casually by as though it's not one of the most hideous things that I've seen anyone do in a ST show.

But, you know, setting aside the violation of the bodily autonomy of an entire planet thing... Let's pretend for a second that this truly is the only option and that the captain of the ship is willing to accept the severe consequences for it... (And there's no opportunity for any other crewmembers to say, "Wait, this is wrong. You can't change people's bodies like this. I can't condone this. And, in fact, am morally obligated to stop you from doing this illegal thing.")

This is still an untested procedure. They don't even know if it will work when they do it. They're forcing a medical procedure on an entire planet and they don't even know whether or not it will work.

They're supposedly using a signal emitted by the sapient star, a remarkably unique being in many ways. There's no guarantee that this one ship will be able to perfectly replicate EVERYTHING that a sapient dying star did to induce Death Puberty in Saru, on a planetwide scale. Death Puberty has not been studied by Starfleet in more than a single individual, who had many unique experiences that his fellow Kelpians cannot have had, so it is not by any means well understood. If they fuck this up in any way, they could kill the entire planet.

Death Puberty is a natural process for Kelpians, occurring later in their lives. There is ZERO discussion of any potential health problems from inducing this change early in Kelpians. This could cause life-long, life-ruining health problems for even adult-equivalent Kelpians, and there is absolutely no mention of infants, of children, of juveniles. For all anyone on this ship knows, trying to induce Death Puberty in every single Kelpian on the planet could cause the agonizing death of every Kelpian child not ready for that process. They don't KNOW. They currently CAN'T know, because they haven't TESTED that.

But, okay, let's pretend that every single Kelpian survives induced Death Puberty with no health problems. The signal miraculously didn't affect child Kelpians at all. It was totally fine.

Remaining Problem: every single Kelpian has been raised to believe that Death Puberty will cause them to go insane and become dangerous.

Saru's initial reaction to going through Death Puberty was to kill himself. He persuaded his own friend to cut his throat before it could finish. His situation was one of unnatural inducement, but he didn't even have them lock him up in a cell to be sure of its ending first; he was CERTAIN.

Upon returning home, before everything goes to shit, Saru learns that his father naturally underwent Death Puberty while he was gone. As is tradition, before the process was complete, Saru's father surrendered himself to the other species and was killed. Kelpians are raised to believe their early deaths are necessary.

I don't think it's unreasonable to assume that the majority of the Kelpian population would panic during planetwide Death Puberty. I don't think it's unreasonable to assume that a significant fraction of the Kelpian population, none of whom know what the fuck is happening, might try to commit suicide or murder-suicide. Even when the process completes quickly and they still feel sane, they might think, "Well, it probably takes a few minutes for murderous insanity to kick in. I had better kill myself while I still have a clear head, as per our planet's accepted spiritual tradition and for the safety of my loved ones."

Parent Kelpians trying to protect their children? Lovers trying to die in each other's arms? Some Kelpians reasoning to themselves: "Well, I'm still sane. But it's my civic duty to off anyone who seems like they're going insane." And the entire planet has just gone through what they understand to be The End Of The World, so everyone is probably panicking and probably seems more than a little insane right now.

Do I think the majority of the planet would turn murderous or suicidal? No. We don't really know enough about the planet to choose hard numbers. But the Kelpians have nevertheless all been raised to believe they need to be culled for the greater good, there was nothing like informed consent happening, and with Saru as our main and only example here, we can be pretty sure that the number of other Kelpians who panicked and died because of that panic is not zero. Personally, I think that the number would be sadly significant.

So, I think that Starfleet is directly responsible for some murders and suicides here. Even if there were no medical issues, which is a big fucking if that I do not believe, you are still up against generations of an oppressive death cult here. If you spring the apocalypse on these poor people, it will be bad. They did not consent to this. They're, according to the worldbuilding here, all going to think that they're dying!!!

And you know what? In this episode, the main characters force Death Puberty on an entire planet, in order to scare the other species into letting the Kelpians be free or something, and it doesn't work. The other species immediately activates the emergency "Explode The Planet" system they had installed, in order to kill all of the final form Kelpians. Inducing Death Puberty just made the other species panic.

So, the captain of the "Discovery" essentially has to threaten the fear-motivated other species into submission, or something. I don't remember how this episode ends exactly. I think that the captain more or less says that destroying the planet with make them the enemies of the Federation and that the Federation is a very scary enemy, scarier than the Kelpians, so it's better to stop this and be the Federation's ally instead. Or something like that.

The other species backs off on destroying the planet and the Kelpians are free, maybe. They all went through Death Puberty and learned they were living a horrible lie, so they have a lot to work out. No mention of health side effects or panicked suicides, but I don't believe that these consequences didn't happen out of an entire planet of potential bad reactions.

And no one on the "Discovery" suffers any serious consequences for forcing an untested medical procedure on an entire planet conditioned to view it as being worse than dying. I know that the other species wasn't really open to friendly dialogue and there was a time crunch of sorts, but I still think "blustering the enemy into backing down by threatening them" should have been attempted maybe a few more times, before the "violate the bodily autonomy of an entire planet with an untested medical procedure that will make them think they're going insane" option. I think maybe that's not okay to do to a single Kelpian, much less an entire planet of Kelpians, even if Saru's life was on the line, actually.

"The ends justify the means" is another thing that past "Star Trek" has repeatedly criticized. It's especially insulting to have the characters do this shit without any of them bringing up any of the potential risks in their stupid, condescending plan. I want to like these characters, but shallow writing like this makes me hate them. It makes all of Starfleet look like hypocrites. They're supposed to be scientists??? No one here has taken an ethics class, apparently.

They really just... forced an entire planet through Death Puberty, potentially killing or hurting any Kelpians who weren't ready for that, probably killing a significant number of Kelpians who didn't know what was happening and panicked, even though they didn't know whether or not it would work and could have killed everyone, and nearly got all the Kelpians killed anyway. This clusterfuck should be both against countless Starfleet regulations and EXTREMELY illegal under Federation law. But we can file this under a "whoopsie daisy!" because the professionals involved panicked and meant well?

Fuck off. Awful episode. They definitely killed a significant number of innocent people here, even if they didn't show those deaths because the writers apparently didn't think about the obvious medical and social risks, and what these characters did to the Kelpians wouldn't be okay even if everyone miraculously lived. Don't mess with other people's bodies???

[alexanderwales]

I spent some time last night thinking about how you could create a procedural murder mystery that's actually fun to solve in a videogame, and the conclusion I came to was "steal as much of Wildermyth's background systems as possible".

The way that Wildermyth works is, there are a fairly wide number of pre-authored stories that have lots of built-in variations on them through their system of varying lines. When you play the game, and it's deciding on stories, it randomly selects one of those stories, then sees whether the available cast can fit in them.

So you might have a story like "secret affair", which would require:

Married woman, uptight

Married man, angry

Unmarried man, free-spirited

And depending on the script, you just further constrain their features, though the more you constrain, the less likely that script is actually going to be used.

So for this murder mystery game, we generate ~8 people, then we rifle through our scripts and see who can fit into one of them. We keep slapping in scripts until all eight of them have something going on.

So the game is, you interview these people. The questions and answers are, in part, tied to the individual scripts that they're a part of, so if you press whoever is in the married woman slot about her alibi, which is contradicted by someone else, eventually she'll cave and explain that fine, she was with unmarried man, but not to cheat on her husband, because she was being blackmailed!

And so gameplay is mostly this, a combination of talking to people and searching for physical clues. I would expect that physical clues would be relatively thin on the ground, because they're frontloaded, and that kind of makes for bad gameplay to have a half hour of noting the positions of glasses on tables and smudges of lipstick or whatever, followed by wall after wall of text. Ideally, these are interspersed.

And it's the nature of these scripts that there's something to uncover about everyone, and all kinds of scenes that play out, which is the meat of the gameplay. Several people are lying, but most of them aren't lying about the murder, they're lying about bribes, blackmail, affairs, lovechildren, financial ruin, etc., and the mess of contradictions slowly makes it clear who the killer must be so you can sit down and do the final confrontation after having locked in means, motive, and opportunity.

I think this "pile of prewritten scripts" approach is probably workable, the only issue is making sure that there are enough of them that someone would want to play the game ~20 times. The risk is that eventually the play will start to see the patterns, and is on the lookout for all the usual murder mystery tropes. It's going to be hard to surprise the player! But I think with some care it's possible to have a lot of fun stuff in there.

One other thing is that the way Wildermyth scripting works is that people are selected for scripts on the basis of their attributes ... except that the player generally knows those attributes, and here, we can make discovering those attributes part of the gameplay. Some things are outwardly obvious, but other things, like what class someone belongs to, or how much money they have, can be hidden and then uncovered, because obviously a part of a classic murder mystery is that people are lying about who they are.

The other thing I would want to do, which would be complicated, is to have a map of the interior space of wherever the murder took place, and some record of where everyone went and when. This would help to generate a hint system (which I think is obligatory in a murder mystery game), and with the right kind of UI, give the player something to check against, so you can have an automated murder board type thing.

The main thing is probably just writing a bunch of scripts that don't step on each other's toes, which in a classic murder mystery is kind of easy, since many of the people are strangers to each other. There's no particular reason for a wounded veteran to know a jazz singer, if their stories don't intersect, and the way the script setup works, if their stories do intersect, then they're being picked for particular things: a liason subplot, or childhood friends, or something appropriate to their age and station. And it's crucially important that you not overlap them in ways that break the suspension of disbelief.

Further, when there are a bunch of characters in a room together, you can have dialogue chunks that reflect their tensions and alliances, which are all dynamic ... except that this, too, is a lot of stuff to write, even if you have a modular and dynamic system set up for it.

I do think that this is at least one correct way to go though.

[bajablastwrites]

A New Student!

Platonic! Satoru Gojo x Fem! Student! Reader

Summary: Congratulations! Gojo unofficially adopts you after he accidentally came upon you while you were running errands!

Author’s Note: This has been sitting in my drafts for a while and I completely revised it cuz this shit was all over the place (and probably still is) when I first started writing it, and I’m currently going through a depressive episode and need to feel some fulfillment in my life so here you go :)

Ok so imagine you’re out in public just minding your business, maybe running errands or something who knows. Then this tall blindfolded guy with white hair comes up to you and asks if you’d like to join his school, saying you have potential. You say no, not really interested in his offer and try to get on with your day. He starts to follow you, trying to persuade you to join his school, clearly not taking no for an answer and at some point the man is looming over you and starts wiggling his fingers in your direction, telling you that you’ll be well taken care of and you’ll be his favorite student too, you’re special after all.

Anyone with a brain cell knows that an adult calling a minor “special” or their “favorite” while saying they’ll be “well taken care of” is enough to receive a hard drive check. So like any normal person you book it and it didn’t take long for you to realize he’s running after you. You had a feeling he wasn’t actively trying to catch you— with his long legs you knew he could easily catch up to you if he really wanted to, but for some reason he didn’t. Not one to question the weird opportunity to escape for too long, you run into a crowd in the hopes that you’ll lose him, which you thought you were successful in since you didn’t see him anymore— he’s not exactly hard to miss after all.

After that ordeal you decide to go into a couple more shops and stores for a little longer just to make sure he’s actually gone and isn’t following you before you head home and call it a day. Only to find the same suspicious man in your living room the next day wearing sunglasses. He introduced himself as Satoru Gojo as he talked with your mom about the new school you can go to. He made it out as if you’re being scouted by a prestigious religious school that offered a scholarship when you go to college after graduation. So obviously your mom made you gently persuaded you to agree to going to the school, it’s not everyday you get an opportunity like this. So in the end you reluctantly agreed while your new teacher Gojo tells you to be packed by tomorrow as you walked him to the door per your mom’s instructions.

You wanted to slam the door in his face and never look at him again, but mom said no.

“I knew your mom would help me out, she’s such a nice lady!”

“How’d you even know where I lived?!”

Not only did this guy chase you around in public, but he then had the balls to show up to your house and borderline flirt with your mom, while trying to convince her to let her kid join a mysterious religious school!

To add insult to injury it worked.

“Don’t worry about details like that! I’ll be stopping by tomorrow evening. Maybe spend some time with your mom while you get your stuff transported to the school, just standard procedures ‘n stuff!” He said as he stepped out into your front yard to take his leave.

You swear your brain went blank once that sentence was processed. That isn’t normal right??

“I’m no expert on standard procedure for moving into an on-campus dorm, but I’m pretty sure you taking to my mom isn’t one of them.” You blatantly stated while silently praying he’s not implying what you think he’s implying.

The man claiming to be your new teacher turned around and decided to open his mouth and worsen your already bad view on him.

“Eh? Well how else am I supposed to get to know her? I don’t mind older women, nothing wrong with enjoying vintage beauty from time to time. She looks really good for her age too, I’m sure she could use someone like me to keep her company!” He boasted while pointing at himself.

You also couldn’t help but get offended on your mom’s behalf, because why did he regally call your mom old?

“My mom’s not old and she’s in a happy loving marriage with my dad!!” You tried to keep yourself from yelling too loudly, less your mom hear you yelling at a guest you were supposed to be showing to the door. Honestly she should’ve checked on you sooner because it doesn’t take this long to walk someone to the door.

Your inner child was punching the air, how dare that man flirt with your mom! The idea that someone other than your dad wanting to fuck your mom— no; actually the idea that your parents fuck is already painful enough.

Your new teacher is saying he wants to get with your mom is hurting your soul in a new way you never thought possible.

He’s so fucking weird.

Anyways that’s how you met your teacher Gojo :)

And of course he gave you the honorary title of being his favorite student just like he said he would! You don’t get any special treatment or anything though so that’s pretty disappointing.

But back to the topic at hand. You probably came in at around the same time Yuji did and because of his friendly nature and that fact that you’re both new students you guys got on well— which Gojo was happy to see because now he’s plotting and scheming. To get with your mom

By that I mean he got bored one day and decided he wanted play matchmaker by setting you up with either Yuji or Megumi. (Mainly with Megumi cuz he’s known him the longest so he’s biased-) Depending on how well you get along with either one he’ll start to meddle in you guy’s business and try to get you guys to kiss or something idk— especially if it’s with Megumi. Again he’s very biased when it comes to Megumi. Why isn’t his adopted son rizzing you up like he’s supposed to!😡

Sometimes Gojo likes to dote on you like how a dad would to his daughter— mostly because you’re the only student besides Yuji that won’t try and deck him in the face when he goes in to hug you or something. You just let it happen and sometimes even return the hugs.

It’s honestly really easy to forget he’s supposed to be your teacher since he acts more like an older cousin or brother more than anything. But at the end of the day you and everyone else are under his care and that’s something he takes seriously even if he is pretty goofy.

Gojo thinks you’re one of the cutest things he’s seen, you just have a more rounded appearance compared to the rest of his students. He credits that to your mom’s genesis. He’s just gotta squish your face! Sometimes he forgets that you’re the same age as the rest of his students since you’ve got a very youthful appearance (a nicer way of saying you don’t look your age💀). He can’t help but just want to hug and squish you or poke at your cheeks whenever he sees you!

Was lowkey surprised that you let him do it in the first place since his students would fight tooth and nail to keep him from doing anything remotely affectionate, but decided not to mention it because of his pride and ego.

Bro definitely pinches your cheeks when he gets irritated with you and he won’t let go until you say sorry to him😭

You’ve also earned the nickname “Chibi-chan” from him and he’ll only address you as Chibi-chan from hear on out. Embarrassing his students is his favorite hobby :)

But anyways!

Ignoring that he occasionally makes passing comments about your mom and wanting to get to know her in the most unprofessional way possible. He’s not a shabby support system, if you have hobbies or like to do stuff outside of jujutsu he’s there to support you. Man’s will do anything he can to help you achieve your goals. Especially if there’s some sort of event pertaining to it. Even better if your mom is in attendance! As long as your hobbies or interest’s aren’t harmful or dangerous to you or others he’s more than happy to support you!

Like Yuji he also trained you one-on-one to learn the basics of Jujutsu or get a better grasp of your technique if you have one. He would’ve trained you with Yuji but this was when everyone thought he was dead. So he was either training you both on different days of the week or he was running back and forth between the two of you if what he was teaching you guys was the same thing.

Though you progressed faster than Yuji seeing as you still got to interact with your classmates and the second years, so you were able to train and practice with them while also being trained by gojo himself later in the day. So he would skim over or review the concept of whatever he was teaching you that day and move on to having you put it into practice while helping you improve what he’s teaching you.

But once everyone knows Yuji’s alive then he trains you two together while commenting how he’s glad doesn’t have to repeat the same lessons anymore now that everyone knows Yuji isn’t dead. It’s a lot more fun training with Yuji too. Teamwork and such— totally not a part of his plan to get you with Yuji or Megumi.

If you ever get any injuries from any missions he checks in on you and talks about paying your mom a “personal” visit, saying that he promised he’d update her on anything that happens in your life and “comfort” her whenever you get sick or injured. You still don’t know if he’s actually serious but that doesn’t stop you from expressing your disgust and having a thousand yard stare every single time.

“I’m gonna have to pay your mom a little personal visit this afternoon to update her on your current situation. I’ll make sure to comfort her too so she’s not overwhelmed hearing that her sweet baby girl is hurt!” He leaned back dramatically while putting the back of his hand against his forehead, oh the tragedy! Except we’re in the 21st century, technology has advanced so much that we practically walk around with a mini laptop in our pockets.

He can just call her!! Hell, he could send her an email or a letter from the school, and not visit her in person! Fucking weirdo.

“Die. Die. I hope you choke on your next meal and die.” You were supposed to be recovering in peace but I guess the big man upstairs had other plans. So now you’re in bed injured and seething, what a way to recover.

Gojo put his hand to his chest let out a dramatic gasp. His own student— his favorite student of all people is wishing death upon him! “Wishing death upon your favorite sensei, I’m hurt! Even after I made you my favorite student and promised your super nice mom I’d care for you like you’re my own kid!”

You knew he wanted to call your mom something other than just super nice. The cringe was immaculate and you never wanted to curl up in a hole and die more than ever.

“You’re the only first-year teacher here— and leave my mom alone!!”

Even if you know he’s not actually trying to get with your mom, it doesn’t stop you from feeling like you’ve heard the worst string of words to ever befall the ears of another human being.

You’re not alone though because the rest of your classmates also cringe or make disgusted faces when Gojo makes any kind of implications about your mom. Everyone gets to suffer what a great bonding experience! Fun!

[terrence-silver]

would you write something about reader who has baby fever but isn’t dating Terry, she works very closely with him, and he starts picking up how much she wants to have a baby

Fringe Benefits

Terry Silver x Reader

—

Each of his future employees got this questionnaire.

It was standard procedure, they said.

Basic inquiries, you supposed. Nothing out of the ordinary. Nothing you haven’t encountered before. Qualifications. Education level. Past recommendations. Experience level. Why you wanted to work here in particular. Why you considered yourself a reliable member of a team — specifically his team. Your devotion. Devotion, you thought. What did that even mean exactly? Your marital status. Family. Children. Whether you planned any. What you brought to Cobra Kai. To Cobra Kai’s table, that is. What you could offer. The memory of circling each response on the interview application still lingered in your mind like a hazy fog, more so when you sat opposite of him, separated by a black, sleek work desk, immaculately organized and entirely minimalist to a pristine level; something both disorienting and weirdly comforting about the basic aesthetic layout of the dojo gym grounds and the offices adjoined to it, all blue and red neons, creating a vaguely purple sense of womb-like dimness — Terry Silver’s eyes carefully assessing your application paper right before his gaze shot back up at you, speaking with immaculate distinction, yet with ease, like he wasn’t in a hurry whatsoever. You were merely after the job of a junior intern — a starting position; someone who handles basic paperwork, greets people at the registry, makes themselves useful wherever and however is required of them, still, everything felt like you were aiming after the most important position in the world. Perhaps due to the fact there was nobody here and the place felt liminal. Intense. Like you were given every bit of attention contained in the universe by a single person.

-"Most employers —"-

He begins.

 -"They’d consider the responses you circled a professional shortcoming."- 

He points his nose at the document next to his tidily clasped hands. You gulp.

-"Reason enough not to give you a job. Hire someone else instead."-

He explains maintaining near unblinking eye contact and part of you, that anxious bit coiling around in your belly was convinced this was a lost cause; he was about to gently tell you you’re not getting the job but that he nonetheless wishes you all the luck elsewhere. The deep sinking of your stomach interrupted only by the sudden tenderness in his features overcast by a crimson shadow of a halogen ceiling pipe above head; not an expression of pity, but one of possibility. His brows shoot up. This wasn’t standard procedure anymore, to your knowledge. The actual owner of a company conducting interviews so personally. One on one. Usually, it was a manager's manager. A secretary. Someone almost random in the hierarchy of things, giving off the basic impression that these job openings were merely formal and that the empty spots were long since filled and that everyone who came along to these interviews was going to be rejected anyway and they didn’t really care who does the rejecting so long the impression is given they’re actively searching for new staff. But, this guy? His personal investment in this almost daunted you. Was this some sort of marketing trick for his newly opening dojos? To make him seem relatable? Approachable? Humble enough to do this himself?

 -"But, me? Cobra Kai?"- 

Terry Silver’s stare flickers with delight.

-"I actually see it as a perk!"- 

He smiles with a weird innocence, momentarily distracting you from the fact you still had no clue what part of your application elicited such a positive surprise in him. You supposed you just had to go ahead and ask. Something about him instilled a sense of amicable disposition in you.

-"What do you mean, sir?"-

Before the question even passes over the threshold of your mouth, his index finger extends forward, landing precisely on the circled answer about whether or not you plan on getting pregnant any time soon. Your eyes meet. -"Kids."- He’s suddenly serious, chewing that word like it was a morsel intended to be juiced. -”You want them.”- He adds flatly and you weren’t certain if it was an accusation, praise, a mere statement or something he wanted you to further explain yourself on. His finger holds your circled answer hostage, refusing to move from the paper’s surface. Holding it there so long you had ample time to notice the sapphire pinkie ring finger on his hand. -"Says it right here."- He further assesses and once again, it was so hard to read him. His meaning. If he was pleased by this or not. You choose the best policy to appease him regardless of his mood; by being centrist and entirely politically correct. Trying to say everything and nothing. You really needed this job. You didn’t want to flunk it just because your circled an application answer that implied that maybe, perhaps, just maybe, you’d have kids. -"Well, one day, yes. Sure. Not right now, but I’m leaving my options open for anything. Everything."- You shrug, going for honesty of the most inoffensive kind. He actually flashes you a smile full of teeth. His whole face smiling with him in a net of wrinkles. It hits you then that in spite of his age, he was quite handsome. In fact, his age enhanced him. Made him seem warm. Paternal. Well lived. -"Good."- He coos at you, content. -"Because we’re all about devotion here. Dedication. Working with young people. Investing in the future."- There it was. That slightly baffling word again. Devotion. You say nothing. Choosing to listen instead. Avoid weakening your chances here. The fringe benefits were quite stellar from what you’ve discovered. Amazing healthcare, for one. -"And someone who sees a major plus in having kids of their own? That’s exactly the type of people we need. Means they’re built from the right kind of stuff."- A flash of determination overtakes his features and for a moment, you see him grit his teeth. -"I see."- You fill the gap between dialogues with a filler line and he chuckles, somewhat amused, catching you doing it. This place. Disorienting in spite of the AC unit nowhere to be seen, yet you could feel the cool air blowing in from somewhere from within this state-of-the-art, hypermodern setting where every utility seemed tactically hidden.

-"Don’t you wanna know what kind of stuff the right kind is?"- 

You catch a hint of teasing in his tone and you find yourself slightly embarrassed, nodding wordlessly.

Felt like a child examined in class.

-"The type who’s prepared to dedicate their life to something greater than themselves. A belief. A creed. A legacy."- 

He enlightens you.

You could guess what the dojo’s philosophy more or less was in vague terms — it was a dojo, after all and the man in front of you was a triple black belt Sensei in his own right and a Vietnam war vet from what you’ve heard, but you weren’t here to lay down life and limb to larp The Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon with anyone. You just wanted to do paperwork for a decent salary with your employer imbued with the knowledge, that hey, he might have to organize paid maternity leave for you and find a replacement for you in case that ever actually happens. Figuratively, of course. You maintain a serious composure, feeling something you weren’t supposed to feel; scared. Curious. Interested. The fervor with which he spoke? You cross your legs underneath the table and you could swear, for the briefest of moments, Terry Silver’s eyelids flutter down, towards your seat, catching you do it. -"I’m not that impassioned, Mr. Silver. I’m sorry. I just don’t mind the idea of having children one day, in the near or distant future, when all the puzzle pieces fall into their place, if all the puzzle pieces fall into their place, and I’m willing to be transparent enough about it within the context of a work place environment so no surprises happen, is all. I’m not raising the next Spartan army, though. Hope that isn’t a disappointing answer."- You find yourself shrugging once more, this time on instinct, keeping calm, wondering why on earth you were justifying yourself so badly anyway. Sure, you did a basic Google search on this place. And on him. Terry Silver didn’t have any children of his own in the first place. No marriages under his belt either. You almost expected bigwigs like him to have several of each. You weren’t judging, you just felt it was peculiar. He was more than good looking too. So, why was this such a huge topic, anyway? Was this even allowed? He kept the questions about your qualifications to a minimal and then — he laughs, apparently delighted by your response.

 -"Oh, not at all!"- 

He shakes his head, blue eyes practically shimmering.

This felt like one of those weird dreams people tended to have; the type that were almost entirely inexplicable.

-"Cobra Kai isn’t going to let you go or terminate your contract or penalize you if anything unexpected happens. Not my policy. We take care of our own."- 

The tension in your back drops hearing that, almost as if a certain weight was lifted from them.

For a man, Terry Silver was as understanding about maternity as a woman would be.

And then he cocks his head to the side.

-"Wouldn’t be very fair play and Spartan if we didn’t, would it?"-

Clearly, your comment entertained him enough for him to repeat it back to you, producing a new piece of document from a drawer and setting it down in front of you alongside a sleek, perfectly jet black pen. Everything here was black. His suit. His desk. His walls. His floors. His ceilings. You weren’t certain if there were any windows. Difficult to tell. Amidst all that neon lit darkness, the pristine white paper stands out, almost burning. A white block of ice. Matching his pale face and gray hair, briefly resembling a clay death mask. -"Just one last form to fill. Right here. Some final questions and you’re as good as set. Monday sound good?"- His finger points once again, down the dotted line, spilling out information so fast that it took you a second to register the fact he was effectively letting you know you got the job while you were too busy looking at what his finger was showing you on yet another questionnaire, your eyes falling on the first of many inquires. One in particular catching your notice, causing your breath to hitch.

- DO YOU TAKE BIRTH CONTROL?

—

You weren’t certain how you ended up in Terry Silver’s bed.3

All you knew is that you wanted to.

It was so easy.

Too easy.

It began with a deep yearning; observing a class for students between ages 3-5 five taking their first steps in Kata on the studio’s mat and Terry doing circles around the dojo, assessing their stances, their movements, how they held their tiny arms, their tiny bodies, the enthusiasm in their eyes. His voice was in your ear once he did a full spin throughout the length of his own domain, encompassing everything like a satellite, keen eyes missing nothing, finding himself next to you and your place at the counter, checking filled application forms and the schedule of classes, while fists punched through the air in unison. Exactly thirty two young students working like perfectly tuned clock work. Funny how kids that small could achieve such discipline. Your heart almost ached. -"Natural, raw talent. Gotta start when they’re young."- He chuckles from next to you, observing his handiwork from a relative distance, giving his small acolytes time to spread out. -"Don’t you just get emotional watching them train?"- His eyes dazzle your way, accompanied by a smile and something within your twists as you nod wordlessly, keeping your attention on your folders and files, suppressing the voice inside of you.

 Yeah, wish I had my own, it says.

The months that ensue get harder. It was always the opposite for everyone else, you supposed. The more time they spend at a place of employment, the more the novelty wore off and things tended to settle into their place, but you? You grow restless, leaving the toilet having recovered from an unbidden fit of tears during your lunch break, possibly the second such concealed outburst within just one work week alone, finding no particular reason as to why it happened. Why it kept happening. Nobody was unkind to you here. Quite the contrary. Everyone was like a newfound friend or family, but maybe that’s what made things so difficult; the fact that when you went home every evening, you’d find yourself all alone with nobody to care for. You didn’t even have time to tend to a pet. A cat. A dog. And this wouldn’t be the only occasion he’s cornered you on the topic either. Terry Silver had this uncanny ability to decipher you as upset regardless how craftily you sought to hide it and continue with your work. -"I know what bothers you and I can help."- He corners you in the empty foyer. One thing you learned about him with certainty that he had this habit of invading people's personal spaces. Invading your personal space. Standing too close. The most baffling thing, though --- how much you didn't mind, even as you kept your head bent, gaze averted. You didn't want him to see how obvious it was that you cried even though were certain he guessed.

In spite of that, you fail to recoil once his hand lands on your stomach.

He's done this before. You've let him.

-"Fill the gap right there."-

He whispers and it sends a shiver down your spine.

He came with a proposition a few weeks ago and suddenly, all those peculiar inquires on the job interview questionnaire started to make an awful lot of sense. Too much, in fact. He wasn't just being nosy and scoping out whether or not you'd get impromptu pregnant and leave your own spot vacant for God knows how long. No. It was infinitely more than that. He told you that if you had an itch, he was lending himself available to scratch it. You still haven't given him a yes or no answer on the topic, though and by the looks of it, the devil has come to collect his dues. -"I’m sorry, Mr. Silver, I —"- You stutter, going for avoidance, trying to wiggle out from the closeness of his proximity, but his arm comes up leaning against the wall, cutting your way off.   Already, in your mind, you could see tangled limbs, a spine bending forward and his fingers travelling up your back. Instead, you get a voice. His. You inhale sharply once his thumb came up, caressing the outline of your cheek, the slightest remnant of moisture dabbed again by his lingering touch. You weren't sure how to label your relationship with him. Terry had yet another uncanny gift. The ability to make himself disconcertingly close to someone with little to no effort. You've been fucking the man for three months now and god knows why. Why you craved it. Why it felt right. Confusing, but right. Letting your boss hit it raw? What do you even call that? Stupidity? Desire? Falling in love? Being manipulated? -"Ambition requires it’s sacrifices, doesn’t it? Even small, day-to-day ambitions. The ambitions of a Junior Intern. The sacrifice being family. The fact that I can tell there’s no place you’d rather be right now than at home with someone."- His touch touches your earlobe and you close your eyes.

You haven't been doing good lately.

He caught on.

Thing was, you weren't a girl anymore.

You were still young but you were entering that stage in life were every year mattered more and more. Your contract with Cobra Kai alone was one for two years and you imagined it expiring and you once again having nothing. Going home and finding your apartment empty. Would you have time to build something for yourself? Build anything at all? Instead, Terry Silver's arms were right there. Warm. Inviting. So hard to resist. Bearing the promise of everything you that seemed so close, yet so far out of reach.

-"You want me."-

He coos tenderly. You resist, shaking your head, refusing to open your eyes.

-"No."-

-"You want me."-

He repeats himself with more vigor. More conviction.

No. No. No!

-"This is crazy! I don’t wanna get knocked up at work by my boss who’s twenty years my senior!"-

Instinctively, your hands come up feebly, attempting to serve as a shield between your own body and his, only to get caught and trapped by his grip, fingers grabbing wrists, pulling you closer to him. His smile is shark-like. Sharp. -"Thirty."- He corrects with ease, seeming proud of himself. -"Thirty years your senior."- You didn't know what to say to that. Somehow, it made things worse. The guts inside of your belly tighten with ache. You feel it vibrate between your legs. It was hormones. All hormones, you tell yourself. Hormones had the habit of being senseless and dumb like that. Terry Silver was the one giving you your salary, he was old enough to be your grandfather and he was offering to get you pregnant. For your sake, as he claimed. For his own too. You wanted the same things, he explained. So, why not complete each other's long-standing yearnings? Wasn't that what loyalty was all about? What better foundation for an alliance? A relationship, he asked? Suddenly, he lifts his arm, freeing you. -"And why not? You can leave any time. You still haven't."- His eyes flare up with the light of challenge. You were being taunted and tested and you realized as much, finding your body growing stiff, legs refusing to move. So, why didn't you leave? This was technically sexual harassment at the workplace. Yet, you reveled in it. Consented to it. His offer was tantalizing, the way a cup of fresh spring water was to the someone dying of thirst. Your lips part. The thought of having someone completely your own. Cradling them in your arms. Was that so bad? Instead of your belly, the palm of his hand travels lower, cupping you between your legs. -"It would make you happy and you know it."- He murmurs and you didn't have the strength to fight it. You let him continue. He squeezes you ever so lightly, until you felt an internal pressure tickle you from the inside. The type that craved to be filled. -"And I told you the very first day you walked into my office. In Cobra Kai, we’re all about devotion. Taking care of of our own."- He reminds and you lean your head back, allowing yourself to enjoy the sensation, feeling the back of your neck comfortably hit the wall.

-"I didn’t think you’d be so literal!"-

You mutter, breathlessly, letting him do his special magic.

Rubbing you through the material of your trousers.

His cock in his other free hand, pulled out of the thick, black material of his Gi.

-"I’m always literal."-

He clarifies.

You knew as much now.

Knew well enough to take him seriously.

More seriously than anyone before.

You wanted him. Wanted him to knock you up. Crude, but truthful.

-"Let me help you."- He groans, unzipping your trousers, only to spread your legs, slither his hands behind you and grab you by your ass, lifting you up against the wall, fingers digging into tender flesh with bruising ardor. You moan and yelp. Maybe it was you being touch starved, starved for love, in need of sex, missing companionship, but the fact you were about to impale yourself on his cock in the middle of the corridor seemed of little consequence. It was a Friday evening. Past working hours. -"Let me fix everything. All you have to do is be willing to receive it. Receive me."- Terry speaks against your open mouth and you mumble into his, already seeing the future unfold. Feeling it on his breath. The warmth of his tongue. -"I'm willing."- You babble, eyes half-lidded, fumbling with the elastic lace trim of your undergarment, lowering it, giving him entry, feeling yourself wet. -"What was that?"- He teases, tone beaming seriousness, asking you repeat yourself. You do. Anything. You'd do anything. Funny how quickly a person could go from being level-headed and logical to throwing all caution to the wind, you thought. -"I'm willing to receive it."- You almost plead. He pulls back. Momentarily, the warm haze he emanated was lost and you find craving it. Craving it back like nothing you've ever craved before. You could see it so clearly now. His hand tracing the outline of your swollen belly, smiling down at you and unwittingly, your mouth moves with a will of its own. -"Sir."- Terry instructs, unblinking, his cock stroking itself against the lips of your cunt. -"Sir."- You eagerly mimic his words, ready to devour the very air you shared, the distance between you nonexistent. -"You know how some schmucks out there claim they know the exact moment of conception?"- Terry chuckles in between wet kisses, his tip finding it's way between your Labia guided by his hand. You're sloppy, loose and ready for him. -"Well, I always thought that's a load of crap."- He adds, grunting once he nestles himself inside of you, driving you further up the wall, your legs flying up, on either side of his shoulders, held by one free arm. It was astounding how he could expertly hold his balance and your own too and not falter.

He picks up his pace and for once, you smile.

Never in a million years would you think Cobra Kai's workplace contractual fringe benefits would involve this.

-"I just plan to fuck you until I see some tangible results."-

He seethes and now there was a plan you could agree with.

[fuck-customers]

Kind of a fuck customers but also a satisfying story at the same time.

My role in the call center I work in involves taking specifically corporate calls, which means I spend all day talking to “business professionals” (and I use that term loosely) including CEOs. As you can imagine, over 90% of these CEOs are the scum of the earth and the most entitled assfaces on the planet.

A week or so ago, I took a call and went through my usual routine of greeting the cardholder and then began going over verification questions. Since we’re A.) a bank and B.) a bank that handles corporate and government credit cards, we take security seriously and require a caller to be able to verify 3 pieces of information based on what the person responsible for their credit cards put on the account. If they don’t pass, we refer them to their company to get the right details.

So as I’m doing this, the guy on the phone is getting increasingly irritated as he keeps getting the security questions wrong. I’m calm and professional the entire time but firm. Eventually I run out of things to verify with him and tell him that we won’t be able to assist and that he needs to contact his administrator. This is apparently where I went wrong.

“LADY I AM THE ADMINISTRATOR!!” He screeches. Ok, great. I look him up and that’s true but there’s a second admin listed, so I ask him to check in with him. He then yells “THERE IS NO OTHER ADMIN! I’M THE CEO OF THIS COMPANY FOR CHRIST’S SAKE!!”

I apologize and tell him while that may be true, he still got his security questions wrong and needs to reach out to his account coordinator then. This man then proceeds to scream at me for the next minute or so saying how we’re an awful bank, how he’s had problems with us for years, blah blah and how we have the worst customer service ever. Keep in mind, I’ve been nice and empathetic this entire time but also I’m not gonna lose my fucking job just because a guy in a suit doesn’t know his shit. I give him the email to his account coordinator and stress again that he needs to talk to them. Then this exchange happens:

Him: “So let me get this straight. You are saying you are REFUSING and UNWILLING to help me, right?

Me: “No, actually I’d love to help you, however we have these security procedures in place for yours and your company’s protection and cannot make exceptions for anyone.”

Him: “This is fucking UNBELIEVABLE! I’ve HAD IT with this bank!!”

Me: “Ok, I’m sorry to hear that. Anything else I can do for you before we disconnect?”

Him: “WHAT IS YOUR NAME? I NEED YOUR NAME. NOW.”

Me: *gives my first name and spells it for him even though it’s a very basic 4 letter name because I’m a bitch*

Him: YOUR LAST NAME.

Me: “We don’t give out anything but our first name for the safety of our employees.”

Him: *insert that condescending, pissed off chuckle middle aged men do when they’re mad here* “Well I’ll tell you what (My Name), when I close this account and pull my MILLIONS OF DOLLARS out of (bank name) and they ask me why, I’ll make sure to tell them that it’s (My Name)’s fault. And I will see to it that you won’t be able to get another job outside of the minimum wage fast food job or whatever you had before this. How does that sound?”

Me: “Sounds great. Now seeing as how this conversation is no longer productive or professional and threats are being made, I’ll be terminating the call, have a nice day.”

Him: “DO NOT HANG UP O-“

Me: *click*

And that’s how making rich, powerful men rage-cry became my new favorite hobby. Thankfully, I haven’t gotten any feedback on that call; not that I would, seeing as how I did my job exactly how I was supposed to. Anyways I hope I’m his 13th reason. ❤️

Posted by admin Rodney.

[asthmaticplushiedragon]

OC time!!!

Hope, Trust, Longing, Dread and Rage are characters in a webcomic I hope to one day write, called Letters of Sorrow.

The five of them are workers in a company called Spirit Express. It's a mail company like no other, that delivers emotions and feelings in the form of letters. They operate world wide, all day, every day, and in return receive special powers, such as invisibility, intangibility, and immortality. But seeing as the company is a secret, every worker has to give up the lives they once had and forget their past. It's a (mostly) painless procedure, and the rewards are worth it! But not just anyone can do it.

You're welcome to send questions to me or the characters, more information about each of them under the cut!

!The drawings below show blood, detailed injury and death! (Injuries include self harm, stabbing and gun wounds)

In Spirit Express, every worker represents a different emotion. The emotion has three "embodiments", each in a different department of the company. The worker called "Happiness" from Headquarters is right above the ones called Happiness from Research and Delivery. But while Research and Delivery meet in a daily basis, people from Headquarters almost never meet the other two departments. The line of work is HQ to R to HQ again and then to D. Headquarters give Research the name and basic information about the addressee, Research write down everything they can find about the person, and then Headquarters create the desired letter. Then Delivery makes sure the letter gets to it's place. Hope is the main character of the story. He's sixteen, and the sunshine of the group. He's a proud mailman, delivering letters of hope to their addressees. As the embodiment of hope in the company, he has a tendency to day dream of endless possibilities. Hope doesn't remember much from his life before he started working in Spirit Express, but that doesn't matter! He likes his job and his roommates, and he has everything he needs in life!

Longing is nineteen, and a mailwoman. She is considered the dreamer of the group, although when you get to know her you find she can be rather sassy and even harsh. She knows she was engaged or married before, because of the ring on her finger. But she figured that, if the girl she was before chose to give it up, it was probably not worth it. Still, sometimes she finds herself looking at roses and longing for a life she never knew.

Dread is twenty-two, a mailman, and a Jew. He knows that only because of the Kippah on his head, and he tries to learn about his culture. Just for scholar reasons, of course, nothing more. He's not really sure why he's the embodiment of dread, but he's sure Headquarters have their reasons. For now, though, he just tries to do his job best and make sure all letters of dread reach their addressees.

Trust is eighteen, and a workaholic. She works as a researcher. Trust is very thankful for only being responsible for the letters about her emotion, because even now she can hardly keep up and has to pull one all-nighter after another. She always says that she would trade her position with one of the mailmen in a moment, but actually enjoys her job. And she knows that, somewhere in the company's archive, there's probably an essay someone wrote about her old life.

Rage is kind of a mystery to his roommates. He's nine, and doesn't talk much at all. All they know is that he works in Headquarters, but since he leaves before they wake up and comes back after they're fast asleep, they don't meet him much. He makes them pancakes every weekend, tho.

Send questions!

[ananke-xiii]

Personally, I think that Severance S2 biggest disappointement (again, to me) was making agency strictly dependent upon romantic love. Because love can make you escape but can also make you stay and if you have no real agency over your situation this can easily mean that your loved one has the power of life and death over you (Burt) or the power of granting you freedom of movement "privileges" (Mark). And since these powers are intrinsically connected to Lumon this also means that there is no real agency if Lumon is still up and running. Because the lives of all the innies are ultimately independent from their outies because they BELONG to Lumon. I think this is why the reintegration plotline was so shitty because they still need to figure out a way to make it make actual sense. So far reintegration is still very much just a privilege granted for no clear reasons apart from the main character syndrome. Also, it's still a procedure done by one single character we literally know nothing of and the other character who went through it died, so. I don't really see that much agency wrt Lumon with reintegration as well. In other words, romantic love is not enough because the show needs to find a way to make its own characters answer the question the show itself has posed: who are you?

if the show's end goal is to take Lumon down I see no other viable ending than for the innies to all "die" because their lives belong to Lumon, not to their outies. Conversely, if the end goal is the exploration of the innies' personalities, then Lumon or something like Lumon will also have to stay in place in order for them to actually "live". Ultimately, though, the show will have to face the fact that there are no" real" innies and no "real" outies because the lives of all the characters depend on Lumon which is the thing that dis-integrate people both literally (the severed people) and metaphorically (Ms. Cobel, Mr. Milchick). This is how characters like Gemma and Irving can gain a more central role in the narrative in the future, I think.

[cheerfullycatholic]

So I'm currently a pro-choice Christian, but I'm starting to lean towards pro-life recently? But I'm worried about the implication of banning abortions.

I'm worried about how abortions don't stop our even slow down when illegal, the same amount of them happen just dangerously.

I'm worried about miscarriages and how they're sometimes treated as a murder case in abortion illegal places.

I'm worried about doctors refusing to give life saving abortions to those who need it in face of persecution.

I'm worried about young children who can't give birth safely being forced to.

I'm split about the 1 baby vs 100 fertilized eggs question, where if the 100 fertilized eggs were really as sentient as a baby why would we save the baby every time instead of the 100 fertilized eggs.

I think it's best to give out birth control and sex education and make it easier to be a parent and I don't think abortion is what you should run to automatically, but idk. I got suggested your blog to help, what do you think?

Hi! I think your concerns are important and I'd love to talk about them (I'll number them all so nothing gets jumbled up) (my answers are below the cut because they're long)

1. Firstly, it's been reported many times that abortion rates do fall when made illegal or hard to get, while birth rates rise. Illegal abortions are much more dangerous, but I do not believe that is a good enough reason to allow abortion, because no matter what someone dies, which isn't good in any situation. More help for pregnant women and their babies is essential no matter the circumstances, but especially after abortion is made illegal so that women don't have to feel like they have no other choice but to have a dangerous back alley procedure. And to me at least, it doesn't feel right to say "abortions will happen anyway so we might as well keep them legal so they'll happen safely" because what else could that apply to? Murder? Driving drunk? Doing drugs? They'll happen anyway, after all

2 and 3. In America at least (where I'm from), there is no law that has made miscarriage illegal. One that caused a lot of ruckus was the Texas Heartbeat Law. People claimed that the law would criminalize miscarriage care and would lead to a bunch of investigations, but they rarely happen, and if they do, it's usually either because the police have reason to believe illegal activities were involved in the death of the baby (like illicit drug use or the baby being left to die or killed after being born alive) or because authorities don't actually know their own laws. There was one case where authorities got their own laws wrong in Texas, but the case was dismissed quickly. And just from everything that I've read so far, it seems to me that any legal action taken against someone for procuring an abortion would be taken against the abortion providers themselves, not the women getting the abortions

And this is what the heartbeat law states this, which mentions "life saving" abortions (emphasis added);

“Abortion” means the act of using or prescribing an instrument, a drug, a medicine, or any other substance, device, or means with the intent to cause the death of an unborn child of a woman known to be pregnant. The term does not include birth control devices or oral contraceptives. An act is not an abortion if the act is done with the intent to: (A) save the life or preserve the health of an unborn child; (B) remove a dead, unborn child whose death was caused by spontaneous abortion; or (C) remove an ectopic pregnancy.

"Spontaneous abortion" being a miscarriage. So at least in Texas and the other states with similar heartbeat laws, any doctor who refuses to treat women for fear of being prosecuted is wrong and should lose their jobs for medical malpractice

4. For any high risk pregnancy but especially for cases which involve young girls, there are steps in place to keep them safe which include increased monitoring, bed rest, certain medications, and early delivery. Young girls in the past have been able to give birth prematurely safely and without ending the lives of their children, but sometimes delivering their babies before viability is necessary and their babies die, but this is different than abortion and is not illegal. Again, if a doctor refuses to do an early delivery in order to try and save their patients, they are guilty of medical malpractice

5. I hate that thought experiment because the goal of everyone who asks it is to try and get you to say a born baby is more valuable than embryos and it's dumb. Whoever you choose to save in this made up scenario does not determine who is more valuable. All human life is valuable, choosing to save a born baby over a preborn baby doesn't diminish the value of the preborn baby, it just means you made a choice to save the born one. Which arguably (inarguably?) saving the born baby makes more sense because what are we supposed to do with the 100 frozen embryos after we get them out? They'll start to thaw and die pretty quickly if they haven't already from the fire in the ivf building

All around we can definitely do better in making sure women don't feel like their only choice is abortion like so many do (Silent No More has a ton of stories from women who felt like they had no choice or were forced into getting an abortion if you want to read them). I think our focus should be on addressing why women get abortions and doing our best to remedy their problems instead of killing their children. That's why I really like Let Them Live, an organization that raises money through community supported fundraisers for women who ask for their help. They have so many cool stories of women who accepted their help and are so glad that they chose life. If we really came together as a community that offered life affirming love and care, no one would have to be killed, and I think that's something that God would like, too. He did say after all that He hates the shedding of innocent blood (Proverbs 6:16-19). I can't think of anyone more innocent that little babies

(The first two links lead to Secular Pro Life, who have a lot of good resources and studies)

I really hope I was able to address your worries well enough (I'm still a bit sick so apologies if I didn't make much sense). If I forgot or missed anything or if you have questions please let me know, and if anyone has anything else they'd like to add (kindly, leaving your stinkiness at the door. Refer to my blog's title quote if you're confused), please feel free to!

[rainbowsandwhumperflies]

The Winged Servant - 12

content warnings: discussions surrounding medically induced amnesia, royal/servant whump, angel whumpee, discussions surrounding corporal punishment (torturing onyx lol), let me know if I missed anything!

prev chapter | masterlist

The guard took me down three staircases and through too many hallways to remember before opening a metal door. “They’ll be waiting for you right in here. There aren’t guards in there, but those two are plenty capable and I will be waiting out here regardless, so no funny business.” I didn’t miss the click of the lock sliding into place as the door closed.

There was a table in the middle of the room. It had a white tablecloth on it, but it looked like it was metal and sterile under that.

Dubhe was waiting at the table. Dubhe and… someone else. The someone else would clearly rather I didn’t know. They were wearing a mask, blue and gray and big enough to cover every inch of their face. They had loose enough clothes to hide the curves of their body and their hair was pulled back into a bun that hid the texture and length of it—even the color outside of how dark it was.

“Hi, Onyx,” Dubhe said softly. “How’s your arm?”

“Good, sir,” I whispered, bowing my head slightly. “Thank you for the concern. And, um, the medical help.”

“Of course. How about you come sit down, yeah? My friend here is going to stay anonymous, but you can call them Blue. We just wanted to ask you a few questions, if that’s okay?”

He was speaking so gently. As if I wouldn’t understand him if he was blunt with me. I wondered if I should tell him that I knew how to be a good servant, or if that was too irrelevant to the conversation. “Of course, sir.”

“What’s your full name?” Blue asked. They did not sound upset with me, but it was a far cry from Dubhe's soft tone.

“Onyx, Mx.”

“And… your last name?”

I glanced away, focusing my eyes on the tablecloth, tracing the gold embroidery with my eyes. “My apologies, Mx, but you would have to ask the royal family for that kind of information. I don’t know it anymore.”

“No? Why not?”

“I gave it to them, Mx, when I was seventeen. I don’t remember anything from before being a servant. It’s better this way. I'm more productive.”

Dubhe and Blue stared at each other for a long moment before looking back at me. “They erased your memory?” Dubhe asked slowly.

“Yes, but- but I agreed, sir. I offered to let them do it, because I wanted to become the best servant I could.”

“Okay, but your offer was before they actually did the procedure, right? So the only reason you know that you offered is because they told you.”

“Yes, sir,” I agreed. “I’m very grateful to them for telling me, since they don't usually tell me about before. As is their right, of course.”

“Jesus Christ,” Dubhe whispered. “You’ve been with them this whole time, haven’t you? What did you do when they were overthrown?”

“... What?”

“When they were overthrown. Since they’re no longer royal. Did they just take you with them when they left the castle?”

This was similar to what Dr. Charlotte had said—she hasn’t ruled a country for the better part of the last decade—but it couldn’t be true. “The Rao family has ruled Sathenn for sixteen generations, sir. And I don’t- I don’t think I’d ever seen the castle before last night.”

“So you didn't work for them as an employee, or at least not after the memory thing.” Blue tilted their head. “How do you know that the Raos didn’t just grab you off the street and wipe your memory?”

I frowned. “His Highness Prince Ryan told me that I volunteered.”

“And you took his word for it. Right.” They wrote something down on their clipboard. “Did you try to leave?”

“Of course not, not on purpose,” I breathed, staring at them in shock. “I’m- I know how to be a good servant, I can be, I swear.”

“And you didn’t ever want to, or you were just too scared to? Do you understand the difference in the question I am asking?”

“I don’t… think I understand, Mx. I don’t leave because that’s what’s required of me as a servant, and I can be a good servant. It’s not about what I want or how scared I am, I just don't leave.”

“... Right.” I could not see their expression, but I didn’t think they looked convinced. “And what would happen if you did try to leave? Would you… get in trouble in some way?”

“Of course, Mx. But I know my place, I swear I do, I wouldn’t run.”

“Okay. But if you did.”

“I wouldn’t, Mx,” I insisted. “I swear. I can be good, I wouldn’t run.”

They paused for a moment, but nodded eventually. “Okay. Sure. You wouldn’t run. But do you get in trouble for other things, then? Other, smaller mistakes, maybe? Can you describe… I don’t know. Can you describe the most recent incident?”

The most recent one was… last night, despite the fact that last night felt much further away than it was. “Each morning, I bring breakfast to Her Majesty,” I explained. “Yesterday, I was late, Mx. I was punished for that.”

“What kind of punishment?”

“I usually wear a shock collar, Mx, and His Highness Prince Ryan shocked me three times. One for each minute I was late. A fair punishment.”

Blue had been scribbling on their paper, but froze as I spoke. “So you- when you say punishment, you mean corporal punishment.”

“Of course, Mx. Punishment is required for me to become the best servant I can be. How else am I supposed to learn to be better? I make much fewer mistakes than when I was new.”

Dubhe was frowning at the wall, and I flinched when he turned his gaze toward me. “Tell Blue what you told me about your wing.”

“My wing wasn’t broken as a punishment, sir,” I explained again, not understanding the relevance. I hadn’t understood the relevance of any of these questions, but it didn’t matter, because the prince had said to do what I was told. “It was only to keep me from flying. But it’s- it’s okay, now, it barely hurts, it’s been years. His Highness Prince Cardan broke it before I gave the royal family my memories, so I don’t remember it happening.”

“That’s convenient,” Blue muttered. “Fine. Okay. Last couple questions, because I can’t stomach this for much longer. What do you know about what you were doing in the castle last night?”

I hesitated. “One of the guards said that we were breaking in.”

“Mhm. Were you aware of that before you came here?”

“... The royal family can’t break in anywhere, Mx. They’re entitled to any building they like.”

“Allow me to rephrase, Onyx. Were you or were you not aware, last night, that you came here as part of a group on a mission to kill people?”

“That’s not-” I hesitated. “They weren’t here for that. They were here for… for Dubhe, they said. Anyone that they hurt was someone in the way of their rule—it’s not that they wanted to hurt people.”

“Didn’t they? I’ve seen the camera footage. You were an accessory to murder before you even got into the door. That didn’t make you hesitate at all? It didn’t surprise you enough to ask any of the Raos what you were doing here?”

Right. The guard with the purple hair. Outside, guarding the castle. Guarding Dubhe. Dead, after someone had killed her, someone that had arrived in a car with me.

“No, Mx,” I said. “I didn’t- I didn’t ask. I’m not supposed to ask questions. It would be a waste of time. I’m just supposed to do what I’m told.”

Blue took a slow, measured breath. “Okay. I have good news and bad news for you, Onyx. The good news is that I think putting you on trial wouldn’t get us very far because you somehow managed not to realize that the Raos were killing people. Even after watching them kill people. The bad news is that you are ridiculously loyal to people that have been lying to you for longer than you remember existing. These people are dangerous to everything this country stands for. That makes you dangerous by proxy, regardless of your intentions or information, and we can’t exactly let you free either.”

You are ridiculously loyal to people that have been lying to you.

These people are dangerous.

“That doesn’t- it doesn’t matter if they lie,” I managed. “It doesn’t matter if they’re dangerous. It’s not the same for them, Mx. They tell me what they want me to know so that I can be the best servant possible. Sometimes that doesn’t include the full picture.”

“Why do you need to be such a good servant?” Blue asked. “Why does their comfort matter so much more than yours? They might have the best servant in the world, Onyx, but what is the point of serving them so much if they give you nothing in return?”

This was something I had asked too, once. It was years ago, when I was new and I had phrased it differently, but I remembered it. Why is my happiness less important than yours, Your Highness?

Prince Cardan had laughed and asked me how happy I thought he was. And he’d said that happiness- “Happiness serves no purpose, Mx. It doesn’t protect me or keep me safe or provide me with food. The royal family does that for me, if I do my best to be a good servant.”

“They’re not going to be the royal family ever again, you know. They’re-”

“When was the last time you ate something, Onyx?” Dubhe interrupted.

Blue glared at him.

“... Last night, sir,” I answered quietly. “At dinner.”

“I think that the conversation Blue is trying to have with you would be better managed over a meal. How about we get you some breakfast?”

Blue was still glaring, and Dubhe didn’t look happy. …But someone had asked me a question, and I was supposed to answer it. “Yes. sir.”

“Okay. Blue—paperwork. Try to start questioning Lucia if you have any extra time. Onyx—how do you feel about crepes?”

~

taglist (btw i appreciate you so so much): @kaleidoscope-of-thoughts @toyybox @rainydaywhump @risk606

[charlottesbookclub]

time after time – chapter twenty-one (part two) (armitage hux x reader)

time after time masterlist

Summary: you and Armitage continue your first conversation since the blast

Warnings/Tags: gn!reader; set pre-TFA; medical settings and procedures; serious injuries; medications; a little bit of general awkwardness/embarrassment; let me know if I've missed anything!

Words: 3944

Author’s Note: okayyyyyy part two of this chapter! 💕 this is a direct continuation of the scene from part one, so you might want to just peek at the last little bit of the first part so that the flow makes sense here! ☺️ LOTS of fluff here plus some sweet little endearing awkwardness as both Armitage and reader attempt to navigate new territory in their relationship! ☺️ I really hope you enjoy!! 🥰🥰

“I guess I’m not a very good medic,” he joked as you recovered yourself, “I don’t think I’m supposed to be making my best patient cry.” Armitage wasn’t sure if it was actually funny, but you laughed at his words anyway, and that was all the counted.

“Did they grant you a license for your excellent care of me?” you asked, you voice lighter now. Your hand found his on the blankets between the two of you, and you intertwined your fingers with his. His heart jumped in his chest, remembering all the times he had held your hand while you were sedated, wishing you could do just that. He tightened his grip slightly, wanting to hold on to the feeling.

“I’m afraid not, and even if they had, I think they would have revoked it again by now.” He chuckled lightly and you looked at him curiously. 

“Why? I’ve had no reason to complain about my care, Medic Hux,” you teased him, and he couldn’t help but break into a full laugh at the title.

“I think I’ve made myself quite an annoyance to the medical staff,” he admitted. You quirked your head, wordlessly asking him to explain further. “I had a lot of questions for them about your condition and their procedures. I took a very… invested interest in your care, which I think they found a bit overbearing.” ‘And I filed infraction reports against some of their medics and even demoted a few of them,’ he thought, but did not say that part aloud. 

You pulled your entwined hands upward and pressed a soft, warm kiss to the back of Armitage’s hand in an echo of his earlier action. Now it was his turn to have his breath scatter in a stuttering gasp from his lungs at the welcome feeling of your lips against his skin.

“Well, I appreciate it very much,” you told him, sincerity glowing in your eyes. You slowly let your hands fall back onto the blankets. He focused his gaze on where your fingers were entwined, slowly swirling the pad of his thumb against your skin, weighing his next words, trying to tell if he – and you – were ready for this conversation.

“How much do you remember?” he asked softly, looking up to meet your gaze, hoping he hadn’t asked the wrong thing. There was nothing he could read on your face to suggest that you disliked the question, even if the smile did fall slightly from your features as you contemplated.

“Not very much,” you said at last. “I remember the explosion a little. There was a huge noise and— and I remember feeling trapped. But after that, not much.” Armitage gritted his teeth and forced himself to steady his breathing.

“How much did the medic tell you when she was here earlier?”

“Mostly about my injuries – that my leg was broken in a few places and that they had to apply sutures because there was a long, deep cut. She said it will be a while before I can walk normally again.” Your words were remarkably level, and Armitage hoped you weren’t just putting on a brave face for his sake.

“And how are you feeling about that?” he coaxed. You shrugged lightly.

“I don’t know, honestly,” you sighed, letting your gaze fall to where your hand was intertwined with his. “It’s still sinking in I think. It’ll probably be different when I can actually feel it. She said I’m still on a heavy dose of painkillers, and it just feels sort of numb.” Armitage swallowed and brought his free arm around to take your other hand in his as well.

“Just tell me if there’s anything I can do,” he said earnestly, lightly squeezing both of your hands. He had plenty of his own feelings on the matter, but those were of little importance right now. His focus needed to be on you. You nodded in agreement with his words, seemingly still absorbed in thought. You looked up at him then, a slight cast of worry over your face.

“Will you tell me what happened?” you asked so quietly he wasn’t sure if he had heard you correctly.

“In the accident?” he clarified, trying to buy himself a little time as he gathered his thoughts, his earlier anxieties flickering to life again. It was only fair that you would want to know, but he hadn’t prepared for this. His own memories were still raw, and he had trouble thinking about what Mitaka had reported to him about how you had been found without having a severe reaction. 

“Yes,” you confirmed, the slightest tremor of trepidation in your voice. “If it’s okay, I’d like to know.” Hux nodded in acknowledgment of your words, trying to prepare himself as best he could. He owed you this – you deserved to know what had happened. He knew he wouldn’t be able to look at you, so he picked a point off to one side and focused on that instead, letting the images coalesce in his mind. He made his words as steady as possible, even as he thought you might be able to feel the way his hands were shaking slightly.

“The bomb exploded as we were entering the shuttle. Our investigators later determined that the device had been intentionally modified to resist the efforts of diffuser droids. We also learned that the intended target was Senator Dentelle, and all the perpetrators have since been apprehended and are in First Order custody.” He intentionally did not elaborate on that point. He glanced at you to try and measure your reaction, but you seemed to be receiving the information well so far. Next would come the most difficult part though. He averted his eyes again. 

“The droids were destroyed, but the personnel on the ship and those staying behind in the Dentelle estate received moderate injuries at worst. Except… you.” He had to close his eyes for a moment to regulate his breathing. He felt your hands tighten in his.

“What happened?” Your voice was a strained whisper. The muscles in Armitage’s face and throat flexed as he fought to keep his voice relatively level despite the way his stomach instantly roiled with nausea.

“I was unconscious for all of this, but they told me that the back of the ship crumpled during the blast. I was thrown clear, but you…” He had to collect himself again. “Part of the metal frame was ripped free and landed on you. That’s what broke your leg and caused the cut they had to suture. They told me that by the time they could free you from the wreckage, you had lost a considerable quantity of blood. You were rushed to surgery.” His voice broke at the end of the sentence. He flicked his gaze back toward you only to see that you were looking fixedly at his hands clasped around yours on the bed.

“Are you alright?” he asked softly, hoping he hadn’t said too much. You looked up and met his eyes then. He could see rims of tears catching in your eyelashes, but you seemed at least… okay.

“Yes, I’m alright.” You nodded as though to confirm your words, but took a shaky breath to steady yourself nonetheless. “Thank you for telling me.” 

“Of course,” he replied softly. “I can’t tell you much more about what happened in surgery except that they set your leg, applied the sutures, and put you on some heavy sedatives. They wouldn’t let me see you for a while afterwards.” You just nodded, pausing for a moment as though debating with yourself about whether to say something. 

“The thing is,” you finally said, catching Armitage in your warm gaze, “I have these hazy memories of some it. I guess not distinct memories, more like sensations.”

Armitage waited with hitched breath as he watched your eyes look past him, clearly trying to pull something from the depths of your memory.

“I do remember some pain, mostly early on, although I don’t have a great grasp of time, just that there was pain and then it faded.” Armitage clenched his teeth at your words, squeezing your hands more tightly in his. Of course he had hoped – foolishly, he knew – that you would have been spared any reminder of the anguish you had certainly suffered. The thought of you in pain still caused a stabbing sensation in his own body that temporarily ripped the breath from his mouth.

“But there was something else too.” Your eyes met his then, and he was utterly transfixed by the warm depth of your gaze. “It was probably just a dream or some sort of hallucination brought on by the medication, but I… I remember hearing your voice. A lot, actually. I remember it more than the pain.” Your words were quiet and quavering, but they had enough force to make Armitage’s body go completely still. He wasn’t even sure he was breathing. You had heard him. You remembered him being there more than you remembered the pain. He felt his lower lip begin to tremble.

“You weren’t dreaming,” he breathed, his throat suddenly tight. “They told me…” He had to swallow to force down the tears that were steadily gathering behind his eyes. “They told me you could likely still hear me so I… just… talked to you. Every cycle when I came to see you I would just… tell you things. Little things mostly – they were probably immensely boring but… if there was any chance that you— well, I just wanted you to know that I was there.” He realized he was rambling, so he lamely attempted to conclude his thoughts. He glanced at you then. This revelation was far beyond anything he could have hoped for, but the fears that he worked so hard to repress were suddenly whispering in his ears, wondering if you found his actions foolish, or even an annoyance. Your face was unreadable, eyes wide for a long moment as his anxieties mounted. Then you quickly leaned forward, wrapping your arms around him and burying your face in the side of his neck. He caught you instinctively, pulling you into him.

“Thank you,” you murmured against his skin, and he could hear tears in your voice, but they seemed… happy. “I did know you were there, Armitage. Thank you.” Your breath was warm against his neck, your words so sincere that they instantly dissolved the fears that had floated to the surface of his mind. You remembered him being there more than you remembered the pain. He let a few tears of his own streak down his cheeks as he held you. After a while, you pulled away slightly, wiping at the tears that remained on your face, but smiling so brightly.

“I’m just sorry I don’t remember what you said,” you remarked with a light laugh. “I know I heard you speaking, but that’s about all.” Armitage took your hands in his again and let out a playful hum, something that felt so foreign to him, yet so right in that moment.

“I fear I must not be a very compelling orator then,” he teased. “I’ll have to work to improve my technique.” You laughed a bubbling laugh that made him feel like he was slightly drunk. 

“Armitage, I’ve seen your speeches – you’re a very compelling orator.” Despite your laughter, he could tell your words were genuine. There was no helping the flush of crimson that instantly stained his cheeks. He should have known it – everyone in the First Order had seen one of his recorded speeches at some point – but the thought of you watching him perform suddenly made him nervous; he wanted to impress you. Based on your words, it seemed like he had. His blush deepened. 

“I fear it was your audience that was decidedly lackluster,” you commented jokingly.

“On the contrary,” he responded, “the audience in question was possibly my favorite ever.” Your smile was incandescent. He tightened his hold on your hands slightly. “I just wished I could have heard you speaking in return,” he sighed out the confession. “I missed this. I missed you.” Had he ever been this honest with anyone? The idea caused a little tremor to pass through him, followed by a welcoming hum of warmth when your expression brightened even further at his words.

“I missed you too,” you whispered, squeezing his hands in yours. The humming warmth had spread to every inch of his body, making him feel suffused with light. Armitage was certain he had never been this happy.

The lights in your room began to dim slightly. You looked around, clearly confused at the cause.

“Did you…” Your question trailed off as you searched for the reason for the change in lighting.

“Oh, yes – I forgot to mention it,” he explained, heat rising to his cheeks again. “You had mentioned that you had a hard time calibrating your sleep cycle without natural daylight, so I made some adjustments to your lights. They’ll dim automatically for a period of time before you go to sleep, and then they’ll brighten in a similar way when you wake up. I’ve made it so that you can adjust the schedule as you see fit. Or you can just turn it off too.” He added that last part quickly as his face flamed, suddenly uncertain if he had far overstepped. He couldn’t look at you then, but as your silence persisted, he had to cast a glance at you, just to make sure you weren’t totally furious at his overreach. All he could read on your face was disbelief.

“That’s not fair,” you were finally able to whisper with just the tiniest breath of a laugh. “You’re going to make me cry again. Kriff, that is so thoughtful of you.”

Armitage couldn’t help but laugh as the expletive left your mouth. Somehow it had less of a bite when you said it, far more charming than a common curse word. His worries melted instantly upon hearing your words. You liked it. You thought he was thoughtful. He glowed at your praise. Then he remembered the function of the dimming lights.

“But that means you need to rest,” he said, trying to maneuver some light authority into his voice. He gently pushed himself up from the bed, reluctantly releasing your hands. You looked up at him with an exaggerated pout that made another laugh spill from his mouth. He was starting to become more familiar with the sensation. You seemed to realize that he was intending to leave soon as he made some slight adjustments to the blankets and pillows, trying to maximize his time with you before leaving you to get some sleep.

“You can stay,” you murmured, eyes glowing softly in the dimmed light as you watched him. “If you’d like,” you amended quickly, a little scrawl of embarrassment running across your features. Hux felt his cheeks grow pink once again. Maybe you couldn’t see in the lower light.

“I, uh…” he cleared his throat, shifting slightly as he stood by your bedside. “I have been staying, actually. On your couch.” Flames blazed up the side of his face, and he was certain you could see the redness creeping to the tips of his ears, even as the room slowly darkened further. “I didn’t want to just invite myself, but it was the best way to make sure you were getting the proper care, so…” He had averted his eyes, but when your hand caught his, he looked at you instantly.

“Armitage, I don’t mind at all. In fact, I’m so… It means so much to me that you would do that.” You offered him such a soft smile and squeezed his hand lightly. But as his embarrassment faded, yours seemed to grow. “What I meant was… well, hmmm…” You hummed lightly, as though you weren’t sure how to properly express what you wanted to say. You exhaled a sharp little breath like you were trying to steady yourself. “What I meant was that – if you want – you can stay… here.” Armitage watched with wide, disbelieving eyes as your free hand drew down the covers on the empty side of the bed next to you. Oh. It was a miracle he didn’t keel over with the way everything in him stopped at once. He stared with a blank, fixed look at where you had made a place for him to sleep. In your bed. Next to you. He swallowed.

“Are you certain?” he asked, his voice thick in his throat and quavering slightly as it left his mouth. “That I won’t disturb your sleep? While you’re still healing, I want…” There were a lot of things Armitage wanted in that moment, but he forced himself to focus on the one that mattered most: “I want you to get good rest.” You shook your head slightly, embarrassment still written all over your face as you couldn’t quite meet his eyes.

“You won’t disturb me,” you assured him, your voice barely a breath on your lips. “But you can absolutely sleep on the couch if you would prefer, or if you would be more comfortable there.”

“No, no, I’m happy to stay here.” Kriff, he was so much more than happy, but he had struggled enough to get those words out that he didn’t think he would be able to express anything further. You finally looked at him then, your self-consciousness seemingly beginning to clear. He could scarcely believe it, but the expression on your face told him that you were just as elated as he was. 

“Right. Um… I’ll go get ready then.” The words were awkward as they stumbled from his mouth. “Do you need anything first?”

“I think I’m supposed to take another dose of painkillers,” you responded, craning your neck to see some of the medical supplies that were still set up on a makeshift table in your room. “The head medic left a time chart.” You indicated to a crisp black file folder. 

With a task to focus on – especially one that involved helping you – Armitage’s thoughts regained much of their clarity. He flipped open the folder to find a detailed schedule of your prescribed medications. After a quick perusal, he was able to commit most of the patterns to memory. Snapping the file closed, he searched the opaque black medication canisters for the one with the correct label. When he found it, he carefully tipped the required capsules into the lid and handed them to you along with a cup of water. The way you smiled at him was enough to make him feel quite weak in the knees.

“You didn’t have to do that,” you told him softly, taking the meds and water, but something in your voice told him that you were glad he had. 

“Maybe not, but I wanted to,” he responded happily, taking back the cup after you had finished. He hesitated for a moment, caught in nervous indecision, but then he gave into his first impulse and leaned down to press his lips to your hairline. The spontaneous gesture of affection sent a thrill through him, foreign as it was to everything he had ever known. He just hoped he was doing it right. Your surprised gasp that turned into a contented hum told him that he was. He pulled back then, as painful as it was, and set the water back down before moving toward the door to make his own preparations.

“Is everything alright?” he asked one last time before exiting the room. You beamed at him and offered him a small salute. His vision went a little blurry around the edges as he struggled to remain standing upright.

“Everything’s perfect, General,” you assured him, that beloved teasing lilt dancing through your voice. The only response he was capable of giving was a little nod before he made his way back toward your main living space.

He had collected most of his things on and around the couch, trying to make his presence in your quarters as contained and unobtrusive as possible. He plucked up the items he would need and entered the refresher in something of a daze. He changed into his sleeping clothes, even more hyper-conscious than usual of the way they hung on his thin frame. He grimaced into the mirror. Briefly, he considered running another layer of gel through his hair, just so there was some aspect of his appearance that he could actually stomach. But no, that was a bit much, even for him. He braced himself on either side of the sink and tried to count out his rapidly increasing breaths. You had seen him like this before and hadn’t so much as blinked at his appearance. If he was so distasteful to you, you never would have invited him to sleep next to you. Sleep next to you. The thought was making him a little delirious. 

He pushed back from the sink and leaned against the cool wall, sliding down until he hit the floor, letting the chill of the tiles seep through the fabric to his skin. He had dreamed of this – kriff had he dreamed of it – but he had assumed it would be a far-off occurrence, if he was lucky. He had never imagined that it would be now. He had no idea what he was doing, but he desperately needed to not kriff it up. He closed his eyes, taking one more deep breath before he pulled himself to his feet and made his way back to your sleeping area.

In the time he was gone, the effects of the painkillers must have kicked in, because you appeared to already be asleep. That was better. Then there would be no witnesses to his total incompetence to being close to you in a way that was completely new to him. He padded as quietly as he could to the far side of the bed, each of his movements achingly slow as he tried not to wake you. He pulled back the covers and slipped underneath, trying not to be too aware of what he was actually doing for fear that he might either panic or black out. Probably both.

As he settled into the mattress, he could feel the warmth of you next to him, could sense the way you were gently breathing in your sleep. The warm humming in his body was so intense he felt he might split open. He almost couldn’t believe he wasn’t dreaming. 

When he felt strong enough, he rolled carefully onto his side so that he could see you better. It was obvious that the brace and hardware on your leg had confined you to sleeping quite stilly on your back. Nevertheless, you had rolled your torso toward him slightly, almost as though you had felt him join you. Maybe you had. Your face looked much more peaceful now than it had when you were still under the effects of the sedatives. You seemed calm and relaxed and almost… happy. Armitage wondered idly if you were dreaming. After everything, he might even dare to believe that you were dreaming of him again. He hoped you were.

He slept very little, not that that was unusual for him in the slightest. He found himself constantly checking on you, making sure that your breathing was still even and steady, ensuring you hadn’t unknowingly shifted into a position which might hurt your leg. Very late in the rest period, he finally dozed off. Unsurprisingly, all his dreams were of you.

[free-luigi-mangione]

i don’t think the green hat girl realizes that she’s putting him in danger and making things worse by practically sayinf that kfa is sneaking contraband to him

it’s the heart notes all over again, MAYBE her letter contents/pictures aren’t harmless but that doesn’t mean they should be sneaked in, and admitting it publicly??

on a dif note, did you see it was confirmed that the main mod from r/freeluigi was the one who wrote the heart notes? i mean we kinda suspected but it was confirmed

first of all, she's not an itty bitty girl, she's in her 30s, she's a grown up adult who can fly in from LA to NY to attend a court proceeding with only twelve hours notice, she is definitely aware of the concept of the presumption of innocence and more importantly, she's definitely aware that she is being extremely immature and problematic by saying the kind of stuff she'd been saying, especially where she likens a defendant facing unnecessary charges for terrorism to that of actual terroristic acts and brags about it in front of media

about anybody sneaking in/trying to sneak in anything via his legal team, lawyers cannot bring in anything while visiting inmates that is not strictly related to their cases. they cannot even bring any newspapers to show something to their clients because newspapers are not a part of legal documents. lawyers have to take responsibility for everything they bring in to their clients and they have to take everything back with them, inmates are not allowed to take anything from their lawyers during legal visits. people who're speaking like cosplay girl have no idea what they're speaking about and people who're crashing out over her words are also crashing out because they do not know any prison procedures.

as for how the sock notes drama could have happened despite security measures like this in place is because of two major reasons 1. MDC Brooklyn was for some reason not really following their own guidelines regarding court outfits and 2. because of an overlook from his legal team's part and while it is easy to point fingers there, we also have to acknowledge and question why anybody who's of sane mind would ever write heart shaped notes and hide it inside socks bound for a person who's in federal prison and is going through a terrible ordeal and could potentially face the death penalty

behaviour of this kind is not just immature it is very disheartening and unexpected from adults and i am infuriated that anybody at all can be so out of touch with reality and have such little humanity to make things harder for a person who's literally facing the death penalty