#non/fictio№

[shikaterina]

Встретимся на non/fictio№ весна?

Стенд Российской государственной библиотеки — А-6. 6 апреля в Гостином дворе откроется весенняя ярмарка интеллектуальной литературы. На стенде издательства «Пашков дом» вас ждут книжные новинки, свежие номера журналов, популярные издания по истории Ленинки, каталоги коллекций и выставок, а также милые сувениры, изготовленные по оригиналам из фондов РГБ. Вот лишь некоторые из кни��, к которым…

[shsenhaji]

📚 The Imposition of Unnecessary Obstacles - Book Review

Goodreads Link: https://www.goodreads.com/review/show/6997389051 Rating: ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️

Genre: Science-Fiction, adult, novella, LGBTQ+ characters, relationships, and themes, detectives, mystery, investigations

Thank you to Tor Publishing Group for the opportunity to read this ARC in exchange for my honest review.

This novella’s epigraph says it all: “There are other ways to live.” The Imposition of Unnecessary Obstacles by Malka Older is a poignant treatise on ethics, community, discrimination and class conflict, the myths we tell ourselves about our past and self-sufficiency, and the importance of being respectful toward other points of view.

While its worldbuilding captivated me the most, this science fiction novella that is a detective story also has a key underlining sapphic romance, and Older kept me reading page after page with a pleased smile on my face. I am absolutely delighted that there will be more books in this series, not least because its overarching plot threads just keep thickening.

I was luckily able to gush about how much I adored this novella for Strange Horizons, where you can read the full review: http://strangehorizons.com/non-fictio...

[prince-rowan-of-the-forest]

Primroses and Periwinkles

----

It was a normal day when it first started happening.

Roman thought he might’ve been getting sick. It was winter, and though the sides weren’t as easy to infect with diseases like the flu he was pretty sure it was still possible - he remembered Patton being sick a few times, at least.

And then, one day, when he and Virgil had been playfully bickering on the couch - another debate about which Disney movies were better that had him laughing and blushing - the petals started to appear.

----

| Ao3 |

----

Warnings:

TWs for this!!!

Hanahaki disease (blood, coughing up flowers, non graphic descriptions for the most part)

Illness, a character believing they're going to die.

A small amout of mentioned food stuff.

This does have a happy ending! I promise!

Pairings: Prinxiety

Word Count: 2767

Notes:

Five years ago when I started writing fanfiction, I told myself I'd never write a hanahaki fic. Yet here we are.

This is my gift for @candied-peach for the @sanderssidesgiftxchange tumblr! I really hope you enjoy <3

----

It was a normal day when it first started happening.

Roman thought he might’ve been getting sick. It was winter, and though the sides weren’t as easy to infect with diseases like the flu he was pretty sure it was still possible - he remembered Patton being sick a few times, at least. 

His throat was sore, and he kept coughing - he must be getting a cold, it’ll be over in a week, he thought as he got on with his duties in the imagination regardless.

For the next few weeks it didn’t get much worse, but it certainly didn’t get better either. Roman gathered that it couldn’t be a cold - they never lasted this long, and besides he had none of the other symptoms. In the end he’d gone to Logan, but he hadn’t been able to figure it out either.

The only other thing he had noticed - that he most definitely hadn’t told Logan - was that it only seemed to get worse around Virgil.

Which was weird, because that’s not how sicknesses were supposed to work, but whenever Virgil said some snarky comment that made Roman laugh he’d feel like something was pressed against his lungs and he’d end up in a coughing fit. Every time Virgil stuck his tongue between his lips while concentrating in a way that made Roman want to lean over and kiss him, every time he made that cute pouty face whenever someone interrupted whatever he was doing - It all made Roman dizzy, and so many times he’d have to run off so that Virgil wouldn’t be concerned when Roman erupted into chest wracking coughs. 

And then, one day, when he and Virgil had been playfully bickering on the couch - another debate about which Disney movies were better that had him laughing and blushing - the petals started to appear. 

He’d got back to his room that night just to stand over the sink coughing - afraid he might throw up with the force of it - only to be left with a sink full of soft, purple petals. They looked like they might’ve come from periwinkle flowers, but they were too scrunched and ruined by his coughing to tell for sure.

Roman stared at the sink full of flower petals for a long time. He felt a tear drip down his cheek as he realised abruptly what this meant. 

—

It only got worse from there.

When he tried to avoid Virgil it felt like the flowers were choking him, when he tried to hang out with Virgil more the fear of him finding out about the petals was overwhelming enough that Virgil started to notice. It threw him into such a panic that before long he was coughing up whole flowers, whole bunches of purple primroses and periwinkles he spat into the small bin in his bedroom - the purple petals soaked with his own blood as the flowers had started to take root in his lungs. He knew he didn’t have much time left. 

—

“Hanahaki?” Logan asked as Roman sat on a stool in his bedroom, coughing pathetically every few moments, sometimes spitting a loose petal or two into a plastic bag Logan had handed him a few moments in. 

“Yeah I-” Roman coughed, “It’s a fictional disease-”

“I know what it is,” Logan chided gently, “The disease that makes you cough up flowers when you’re in love with someone.”

“Unrequited,” Roman added, Logan rubbed his back in a way that was barely comforting as he coughed his way through flower buds and petals - he was close to tears when Logan spoke again.

“Unrequited?”

“It only - it only happens when the person you love doesn’t-” The bag was almost full already, “-doesn’t love you back.”

“So you believe that Virgil does not return your affection?” Logan asked, Roman thought he might vomit, or cry, or probably both. 

“I- I never mentioned Virgil-” He choked out past the flower petals laying heavy on his tongue, "Who said anything about Virgil?"

“Purple flowers,” Logan says, deadpan, “And your crush on him is and always has been less than subtle to everyone besides Virgil.”

“Oh,” Roman choked.

“However, Virgil’s obliviousness towards your affections does not mean the feelings are unrequited, nor do the flowers, they just mean that you believe they are.”

“Then- then what do I do?” Roman asked, the first tear escaping his eyes as he coughed up yet more flowers, the broken stems tearing at the back of his throat. In his mind, he already knew the answer.

Logan sighed, “You will not like the solution.”

“...I have to talk to him, don’t I?” Roman asked sadly.

“Unfortunately so.”

Roman hated this so much. Why did he have to be the fantasy one here? Why couldn't it have been Janus with his very clear crush on Logan, or Patton with his slightly strange level of interest in his brother. He sighed.

“Fine, I’ll talk to him later,” Roman said after a long while of being stared at by Logan. 

“Talk to him soon, Roman, or this will continue to get worse.”

—-

Roman really should have listened to Logan. 

In actuality, he felt that he should have listened to Logan quite a lot, but this time he really regretted not taking his advice, because he had put off talking to Virgil and his situation had certainly gotten worse. 

By now, just a week later, Roman found himself without much choice but to hole up in his room and hope no-one came looking for him. 

Nothing seemed to help, thinking about Virgil made it worse, not thinking about Virgil also seemed to make it worse. There was no relief from the onslaught of flowers in his lungs - his room was practically covered in the petals now, he didn’t have the energy to clean them up anymore.

It was pathetic, Roman thought as he laid on his bed, barely able to force down water - let alone food. He could barely move, he was so tired, his lungs perpetually hurt - he hadn’t been able to move without spikes of pain consuming his chest in weeks and weeks. Even if he wanted to go and find Virgil now - he needed to tell him, needed to make this pain stop - he couldn’t. He could hardly move from his bed with the pain and the exhaustion quickly catching up to him. 

He knew he wouldn’t last much longer. 

—-

“Has anyone seen Roman?” Virgil asked a day later at dinner, looking around at the other two sides present. Patton shrugged when Virgil’s eyes fell on him.

“I haven’t seen him for a few days, kiddo, I’d assumed he was off on one of his adventures again…”

“Other than him running away from me whenever I see him I haven’t seen him for weeks…” Virgil said, frowning, “I haven’t seen him either - I’m worried- well, obviously, but….”

“He’s not usually gone on adventures for this long,” Logan points out, “Perhaps we should check on him.”

“You think he might just be in his room?” Patton asked, tilting his head, “Avoiding us?”

Logan sighed, “It would be unwise to rule it out as a possibility, though if he is hiding in his room, it may be best that Virgil is the one to confront him.”

“Wait what?” Virgil asked, barely managing to not bolt up from his chair in surprise, “Why me?”

“Not only are you best equipped of all of us to handle a situation in which Roman is panicking or scared-” Logan points out, “But the fact that he’s been avoiding you specifically means that if he should be having an issue, it may be something to do with you.”

“And… how exactly would that help, if Virgil went?” Patton asked doubtfully, “Might it not make things worse?”

“I strongly believe that Virgil going would be best for Roman,” Logan reiterated firmly. Something about his tone had the other two pausing. 

Patton was first to break the tense silence, “Do you know something we don’t, kiddo?”

“If I knew anything, it would not be my place to share,” Logan said, frowning at the both of them. After a long pause when it seemed neither of them would protest further, Logan turned to Virgil with a softer expression, “I know that the way Roman has been acting towards you recently may be considered rude, however, I would like to request you look past that until you find out why.”

Virgil just stares at him for a long moment and Logan crossed his fingers that Virgil would just take that go. Thankfully, Virgil simply took a deep breath and stood up.

“Okay, fine, if you think this is so important,” He said, turning to leave the room. Patton watched him go in confusion, before looking at Logan with an eyebrow raised, clearly asking what on earth that was about.

“You’ll find out in due time,” Logan sighed, going back to dinner. If this worked out, Roman would be in for a lecture about listening to him in future, considering this time it had almost cost them dearly. If it didn’t… well, Logan didn’t know what he’d do, let alone the others. 

—-

Virgil didn’t understand. Since when has Logan been so cryptic about things? Usually he would explain as thoroughly as possible, the difference set Virgil’s teeth on edge. Unfortunately, Logan’s weird behaviour is what led Virgil to believe that something more important really was actually going on here, so he had to go along with it. 

Knocking on Roman’s door gave no results, though he could hear something from inside, he wasn’t sure what it was, unable to make out the sound properly. 

“Roman?” He called, knocking again, rewarded with a pained groan, “Roman? It’s me, Virgil, um, I know you’ve been avoiding me and you probably don’t want to see me but Logan was being weird and told me to check on you-”

Nothing, and then choking coughs, mixed with a sob. What the hell?

“Roman if you don’t say anything I’m gonna come in, okay?” Virgil called, “I’m worried about you-”

Nothing but the same, so Virgil pressed down on the handle and opened the door. 

Oh. he thought, weakly. 

Roman laid on his bed, still in costume though said costume was stained down the front with blood and petals that dripped from his chin, shrivelled petals - petals in small puddles of blood - petals, petals, so many petals, and leaves, some whole flowers with thick stems. For a long moment Virgil couldn’t say anything.

Roman looked awful, the fire in his eyes dulled as he looked up at Virgil pitifully, his tan skin was paler, there were bags under his eyes that rivalled Virgil’s own, his usually pristine hair was plastered to his face with sweat, tears were running down his face. Roman looked awful.

“Oh my god…” Virgil said softly, taking a step forward, “What the hell happened to you?”

“You weren’t-” Roman coughed, cutting himself off with chest-heaving coughs that had him spitting out more bloodsoaked flowers, it made it impossible to see what colour they really were, “You weren’t supposed to- to see this.”

“Why the fuck not?” Virgil asked, shutting the door behind him and practically running over, kneeling down beside Roman’s bed - reaching out, before hesitating, “You- you’re suffering princey, why the hell shouldn’t I know? I want to help!”

Roman whined, “Because- because you- you don’t-” He was cut off by yet more painful coughing, yet more flowers, Virgil felt tears prick in his eyes at the mere sight of Roman in so much pain, Roman who had gone out of his way so often to accommodate for Virgil after he’d joined the group, Roman who always tried to hard, Roman who was sweet and kind and sensitive no matter what fronts he tried to put up.. Virgil couldn’t stand to see him in so much pain. 

“I don't.. what? Princey?” Virgil said, still a little panicked. He gently cupped Roman’s cheek with his hand and Roman leant into it immediately, closing his eyes but still looking hurt and upset. Virgil tried to wipe away some of the blood, but Roman just coughed weakly and more blood trickled out of the corner of his mouth, “Are- are you dying?” he didn’t want to ask. 

“I don’t- I don’t know,” Roman mumbled, before turning and spitting more petals onto the ever growing pile nearby, Virgil thought some of them might be purple, but he didn’t know what that meant.

“Can I do anything?” Virgil asked, trying to blink away his own tears - If Roman left… Virgil had no idea what he’d do, “I don’t want you to go.”

“I- I don’t know- Virge,” Roman huffed, wiping his mouth with his already bloodsoaked sleeve, “I can’t force you.”

“Force me… what? To help you? Because you don’t have to force me to do shit,” Virgil says, “I like you, dumbass, that’s what you do when you like people.”

Roman stared at him for a long, sad moment, tears once again dripping down his cheeks, “I’m so sorry.”

“What are you sorry for?” Virgil asked, eyes wide and eyebrows raised - here Roman was, lying in a pool of his own blood and flower petals, looking like he was practically on the verge of death and he was apologising?

“I love you,” Roman said, abruptly, sending Virgil rearing back, eyes somehow wider and face growing hot to the tips of his ears, “I- I’m sorry - I know you don’t love me and- and I can’t make you- and it’s unfair for you to- to see - this - when you can’t do anything - and it’s just- well - it’s my own fault, really, you don’t need to feel guilty…”

Virgil stood up, and with the look in his eyes Virgil knew that Roman expected with every fibre of his being for Virgil to turn around and leave him there. Instead he sat down on the bed and gently coaxed Roman to sit up through winces and the occasional coughs. He really didn't think Virgil loved him back? After everything - hell, Virgil thought he'd been pretty obvious about his crush on the Prince.

“Roman- I-” Virgil started, still blushing, before just shaking his head, “fuck, if you weren’t covered in blood right now I’d kiss you.”

“You don’t - you don’t have to pretend,” Roman said, gently pushing his hands away as he coughed up what - looking back - must have been the last of the flowers, Virgil put his hands back just as quickly, making Roman look up at him with wide eyes - almost hopeful.

“I’m not pretending, dumbass - of course I love you, how the hell could I not? You’re you! Why didn’t you just- say so?” he squished Roman’s cheeks and briefly noted that colour seemed to slowly be returning to them, Roman coughed, but this time no petals came out. 

“I was… scared,” Roman said, ducking his head as far as Virgil’s hands would allow, “That you wouldn’t love me back - that you would but it wouldn’t fix all of this - I guess I was just-”

“Anxious?” Virgil chuckled, making Roman blush and nod, “...me too.”

Roman stayed silent, though a weak smile was playing on his lips now and he leant into Virgil’s hands on his face. It was obvious he was weak, Virgil had no idea how close he’d cut it to saving Roman, but it was clear he was already starting to do much better. Virgil didn’t like to believe in fairytales, but love really did seem to be quite powerful.

He’d have to thank Logan later. 

But for now…

“Come on, let's get you cleaned up,” Virgil said, gently helping Roman up, sure it was horribly uncomfortable to be covered in your own blood, “...when did you last eat?”

“I don’t… Know…” Roman said, looking embarrassed. 

“Okay - how about you get changed and have a shower, I’ll grab you dinner and we can meet back in my room and um- we can just…”

“Cuddle?” 

“Yeah, that.”

“I’d love to,” Roman said with a soft smile, “And I’ll take that kiss later, too.”

“Don’t push your luck,” Virgil teased, though he still kissed Roman’s forehead as he pulled away.

—

“How did it go?” Logan asked when Virgil arrived back downstairs. Virgil sighed.

“Well, thanks to you,” Virgil said, mostly begrudgingly as he heated up Roman’s portion of their dinner, “He’s okay now, we’re uh-” He blushed, “Gonna cuddle, once I get him to eat something.”

“Gross,” Logan said, though he was smiling fondly as he waved Virgil off. 

No-one saw either of them until dinner the next day. 

----

Tags: @full-of-roman-angst-trash @your-local-random-dino @cutebisexualmess @glacierruler @roseianxiety @bella-bugatti-frogetti-baguetti @scalesfeathersnfur (if anyone wants to be added, let me know!)

[amberaddict]

Amber Benson shares her thoughts on a poem that fascinates her. In Shadows & Verse Classic Dark Poems with Celebrity Commentary. To find out more click the link below.⬇️❤️👍🏻

PS apologies for the stream spacing that seems to be an issue with the Weebly template

[sebdoesnothing]

[lurks-no-more]

Also - there being problematic stuff in the art or the books or the shows you like does not automatically mean you should drop them, or that you are a bad person. You just have to consider things and come to

For example: Howard Phillips Lovecraft is a seminal writer of weird fictio, who has influenced and shaped the fantasy, horror and SF genres, and the general pop culture, of the 20th century like few others. He was also an extremely racist neurotic weirdo, whose most powerful stories are inescapably rooted in his xenophobia and visceral fear of corruption from within. But he's been dead for close to a century, and all of his works are in public domain. So, if you want to read the HPL originals, you can do so with clear conscience, and if you don't, there are plenty of modern authors who are playing with the concepts and tropes he used in a non-bigoted ways, or actively deconstructing and engaging with the early-20th century bigotry that was prevalent in the works of HPL and so many other weird fiction writers.

For another example: JK Rowling is the well-known author of the massively successful and popular Harry Potter books, which have spawned movies, games, toys and various spin-offs. She is also a loathsome transphobe, who is actively using her massive wealth and connections to push for harmful policies and politics in the UK and worldwide. If you spend any money on any HP products - books, games, movies etc. - a portion of that is funneled to JKR, who will be using it to hurt trans people. Everyone must, of course, do their own ethical calculus, but I do think that nobody who cares about trans rights should watch the coming HP series, or buy any related merchandise. Where you draw the line on fanart and fanmade stuff is a trickier decision, but it has to be remembered that JKR has in the past said that she sees people supporting Harry Potter as supporting her.

To summarize: this stuff is complicated and nothing is pure unproblematic good or pure bad, but there are still degrees of good and bad, the context matters an awful lot, and everyone should have lines they won't cross.

my friends, it is not illegal to recognize there are problematic elements to the content you enjoy. it’s called critical thinking. you can enjoy something and not turn a blind eye to the shit wrong with it. 

[impsinthegallows]

🕯Sid/19/It/It's/Goblin IRL🕯

I'm Sid. I'm a silly little goblin doing silly little goblin things. I love to draw and plan to post my art some day.

CARRD

🕯AuDHD, Bi, Fictio, and Non-binary.🕯

Current hyperfixations: World of Warcraft, Sweeney Todd (5 years strong💪), and That Handsome Devil.

DNI:

Shitty people

If you have any of my f/os in your f/o list

Proship (i will smite you)

[I'm still very new to this app]

Planning to add more to my carrd soon. ^_^

[rauthschild]

Many people have contacted me about this "historic" small video showing three members of the British Honor Guard riding in public with the Union Jack flag furled and "blackened", meaning in a black sheath:

Everyone wants to know what it means, but if you have been following along, it's just more proof of what I have already told you.

"King Charles III" is not functioning as a King of anything -- not England, not Great Britain. He was crowned and is functioning solely as an Emperor in the air jurisdiction.

Thus, two horses are black (England and Great Britain) and one horse is white (the UK).

This is just more confirmation that these yahoos are trying to excuse their actions by all converting to Satanism (hoping to escape justice by pleading religious freedom and the fact that Satanism is not under Ecclesiastical Law).

The Ecclesiastical Law demands that any corporation that acts "unlawfully" must be liquidated. The Pope is obligated as a Christian to honor the Ecclesiastical Law and liquidate all these corporations that have participated in genocide, robbed, plundered, pillaged, maimed, defrauded, human trafficked, kidnapped, murdered, etc.

The only way he gets out of that obligation is by converting to Satanism or some other religion that stands outside the Ecclesiastical Law -- and Satanism makes sense, because that would serve to justify all their criminality and destructive actions.

Bergoglio and "King" Emperor Charles III and obviously, some other British Crown scum, are apparently seeking a means to maintain their freedom and excuse their actions on a legal technicality that would allow them to maintain a position in the jurisdiction of the air by claiming that, well, after all, they were Satanists doing what Satanists do: lying, cheating, murdering, stealing; and--- (this is the real point of their schtick) as Satanists operate outside the Ecclesiastical Law, they are not under any obligation to liquidate the offending corporations.

We brought all this to a head by holding Francis accountable under Ecclesiastical Law. Now he and his minion, Charles, are trying to dodge their obligations and find a way of saving their necks.

We take a very dim view of this artifice and don't allow it; they want to play by the rules of Ancient Rome?

Fine.

Fictio cedit veritati; fiction juris non est, ubi veritas.

Fiction yields to truth. Where the truth is, fiction of law does not exist.

We are where truth is.

The further truth is that under Roman Civil Law, the Maxim is: Let him who will be deceived, be deceived.

We are not deceived. We are calling them out for it.

The additional Maxim of Roman Law is: Possession by pirates does not change ownership.

We declare that these corporations are all dissolved before us, that we are not deceived, and that we are in possession of All That Is.

No delegated power is superior to that power which we hold in our hearts and in our hands.

Right is right and wrong is wrong; what the Unrighteous have stored up for themselves is given to the Righteous instead.

Within Law and Without Law, the end result is the same.

They are equally condemned as Christians and as Satanists.

If they don't liquidate these offending corporations, they will be liquidated and all their corporations, too.

The people of England, Scotland, Ireland and Wales should not despair because of the appearance of the White Horse of the Apocalypse, nor fear any aspect of power projected by these Evil Men.

Everyone is reminded now and at all times that this is a "war" in the air jurisdiction, a war of beliefs and morals, a war of ideas and energies, claims and counterclaims, truth versus falsehood.

The White Horse of the Apocalypse signals "death" meaning death of the nations -- in this case, England, Ireland, Scotland, and Wales, and the rise of a faceless THING, a Corporation, that will attempt to kill the nations and subjugate the living people.

This is represented by the UK, aka, UNITED KINGDOM, a franchise of the UN CORPORATION.

All these corporations are steeped in blood, lies, misery, war for profit, and theft. All of them have conspired against the countries that gave birth to them. All are unnatural and have no natural right to exist. All are guilty of treason and conspiracy against the lawful governments.

All these corporations are, essentially, lies called "Legal Fictions". The operant word is "Fiction" -- these things don't actually exist. They are divorced from reality by at least one full click.

Thus, you can see why they are the creations of the Father of All Lies, and also why the men seduced by these THINGS, are, knowingly or unknowingly, Idolaters and Satanists.

The nature of the government you are subscribing to is shown by the law and the money you use.

We have shown everyone that the FEDERAL RESERVE NOTE is not money and that it has no actual value. It's a graven image in the language of the Bible -- an idol merely representing value, the same way that stone statues and icons "represent" gods and saints.

The same is true of the EURO and any other fiat currency.

The voluntary use of a fiat currency condemns the people using it to a fantasy-land, the proverbial Land of Oz, in which people are converted into PERSONS, and the only crimes are commercial ones.

It's all just lies and hoaxes, complete with Wicked Witches that "dissolve", that is, are "liquidated" by a simple bucket of cold water.

That is what "King" Charles III and every member of the Privy Council needs poured over their heads right about now. And every member of Parliament.

Ditto Jorge Bergoglio and the members of the Roman Curia.

All the Officers of the EU. All the Officers of the UN.

They all have to be more than half-mad to think that they can get away with what they have proposed -- that we bow down and worship Satan instead of kicking their fantasmagorical asses and holding these corporations to account.

These madmen appear to believe that the way to Heaven on Earth is through Falsehood of every kind; they are inured to think that Lies are holy, poverty and ignorance are a blessing, and every other kind of self-serving excuse for abusing and mistreating others is Divine Order.

All that is really needed, is a single well-placed international realization of what these white-collar (literally) criminals have done.

And a bucket of water.

Failing that, you know what else they have planned next for everyone -- the black horse of starvation.

We can just cut to the chase, folks. We know the narrative by heart.

No need to go through the death of nations, the starvation, the war, or the conquest of glory. We've all been here, done that, and now, enough is bloody well enough.

Every Officer of the Church, every Officer of the American Military, every Officer of the Allied Forces, it's your duty to return the government to the people of each country that has been impacted by this gigantic fraud scheme.

Admit it and return the purloined assets. Do it now, before these Sociopaths cause broad spectrum worldwide disruption of food supplies and supply chains.

[jasontaylorjr]

[blue-eye-samurai]

1. In what way is Mizu giving you gay representation?

2. In what way is Blue Eye Samurai a queer story?

3. Are you part of any marginalized ethnic groups?

These are genuine questions btw — I’m not trying to be condescending here. I’m a biracial + multicultural cishet woman of color (who’s not traditionally feminine but still very much identifies as a woman) and I truly want to understand why so many of you (mainly white queers) are this adamantly convinced that Mizu is canon LGBTQIA+ representation.

Why do so many of you feel this deeply entitled to a story that is actually not about you?

You may think queer labels are dumb and that there is no right way or wrong way to view a fictional character’s gender in canon, but in Mizu’s case it’s actually very racist AND misogynistic for y’all to do this.

Just because this show has queer elements in it, it doesn’t mean that it’s a queer story. Just because there are things about Mizu that resonate with trans masc or nonbinary people, it doesn’t mean that Mizu is actually those things in canon. Just because Mizu walks the line between femininity and masculinity, it doesn’t mean that Mizu identifies as both a woman and a man.

For the millionth time, Mizu’s story is NOT about being queer. I don’t care what your headcanons are — you can headcanon Mizu however your heart desires, but y’all need to remember it’s still just that: a headcanon. Your personal interpretations of fictional characters do not need to be universally accepted as irrefutable facts by everyone.

Even the show’s own creators refer to Mizu by she/her pronouns, therefore Mizu is canonically a woman. Plus, Mizu herself made it very abundantly clear in episode 5 that she never wanted to be a man, she just HAD to be one in order to survive and achieve her goals. Anyone saying otherwise is projecting and is also purposefully misgendering Mizu.

Blue Eye Samurai is about a biracial Japanese woman who’s isn’t seen as “Japanese enough” because she’s partially white and who isn’t seen as “woman enough” because she’s not traditionally feminine either. That’s literally what Mizu’s whole entire narrative on the show is about, so she IS canonically a cis woman of color.

There’s genuinely nothing “ambiguous” about it — Mizu’s story was mainly created by women of color (director Jane Wu and writer Amber Noizumi, who is biracial and was inspired to write this story because her daughter is biracial too) and they have heavily shaped Mizu’s journey from their own personal experiences as people who are marginalized for both their race AND gender.

Mizu being biracial is not an allegory for being bisexual.

Mizu being non traditionally feminine doesn’t automatically mean it’s lesbian representation.

Mizu slouching and wearing bindings is not trans masc, nonbinary or gender fluid representation.

Again, feel free to headcanon Mizu however you want, but anyone insisting this character is canonically queer is simply projecting what they want to see in a story that is not actually about them.

And no, I’m not “policing” anybody’s headcanons here. I’m simply reminding y’all what this show is actually about. As a person who is both a visible ethnic minority AND a woman (who is not considered “conventionally attractive” by the society that I live in), I don’t have the power to police anyone on anything.

I’m also not being too sensitive. I’m genuinely tired of white people taking resources away from women of color by constantly decentering us from our own canon stories.

I’m tired of white people always looking at stories about non white characters through a modern western lense and projecting themselves onto stories that aren’t about them, their culture or their experiences.

I’m tired of white people (including queer ones) coming on here and being so damn loud in the tags with all your problematic takes about the so called “ambiguity” of Mizu’s gender identity or sexual orientation.

It’s ALWAYS white people who overwhelmingly project queerness onto fictional characters that are people of color, especially when it’s women of color who aren’t traditionally feminine. And why? It’s because none of you can ever be bothered to relate to us without making our stories about you.

People in the queer community fighting over what Mizu’s pronouns are is the perfect example of how label discourse is dumb.

Mizu is both a man and a woman you freaks, the whole point of being queer is being something that cannot be defined. By forcing ourselves to only look at gender through rigid labels you are using transphobic logic. If you truly believe gender is a construct then you’ll understand that identity is fluid, always.

Also so ironic considering how often bisexual and genderfluid people are told they’re confused because they need to “pick a side” yet this same rhetoric is being repeated by queer folks over this show.

Mizu is a powerful woman protagonist and powerful gay representation. You are not disparaging either representation by deciding to settle on a set of pronouns. Mizu’s identity, in my opinion, is what being queer feels like. To love differently, to hate and be hated differently, a living example of what living life outside of societal expectations looks like. We love and hate like him because we are him. There are no wrong answers to who or what she is because she lives outside of those concepts. They are created for you to be able to project yourself onto her, if you had ever felt disadvantaged as a minority, gay/ trans woman, man, nonbinary, whatever gender you identify with he is your superhero. Our superhero.

TDLR: You are not being transphobic or misogynistic by referring to Mizu by either gender. Quite literally any pronouns queer icon.

[zahroreadsthings]

For the book recs ask game... 3, 9, and 22! :)

3. a stand-alone that you wish was part of a series done!

9. your favourite book of 2020 oh god uh... i'll try narrow it down to a few, there were so many great books i read! this is how you lose the time war, gideon the ninth, from here to eternity, compass rose, the midnight lie, fire country

22. your favourite thriller aw man, can't say i have any! it's a genre i'd like to get into and i have a few lined up but i haven't picked any up yet

[lupo64sblog]

WELTANSCHAUUNG ITALIA

Il ritmo tambureggiante, sin dai suoi albori, della propaganda bellica, lascia presagire come oramai tutto sia stato già deciso. I menestrelli di regime, megafono del "partito unico" e cassa di risonanza d'ogni bestialità partorita, stanno solo scavando nel cervello del popolo per trovare le giustificazioni atte a far trangugiare l'amaro calice a chi, inevitabilmente, dovrà pagarne le conseguenze. Le parole scelte, le immagini scioccanti trasmesse dai telegiornali, il senso di colpa instillato che prolifera nell'humus malsano di un falso perbenismo da salotto, i dibattiti creati ad hoc per ridicolizzare il dissenso e giustificare le dure reazioni da parte dell'occidente "democratico", costruiscono, motivano, anestetizzano il senso critico, conducono i più ad accettare una determinata conclusione degli eventi. Ergo, così come nella fictio pandemica falsi limiti temporali, misure restrittive, coprifuoco, lockdown e creazione di capri espiatori servivano solo per far accettare vaccinazione di massa e sdoganare un lasciapassare per vivere seguendo i punti di un agenda ex ante stabilita, anche nella fase "guerra", consolidamento dell'ordine cristallizatosi nei due anni appena trascorsi, lo schema appare lo stesso. Nuovi nemici, a cui addossare le responsabilità delle scelleratezze in campo giuridico ed economico, sembrano oramai essere all'orizzonte, facendo capolino nella narrazione dominante. La retorica avanza, i meccanismi sono oramai rodati, il linguaggio utilizzato creato ad hoc per plasmare le nostre opinioni, per indirizzare i nostri pensieri. Chiunque, a questo punto, creda che la fine delle ostilità dipenda dall'uso o meno di un condizionatore è cieco, o in malafede. Se avessero voluto la pace, così come fine della pandemia, non avrebbero messo su tutto questo "teatro", tutta questa pressione, tutta questa ferocia nel disumanizzare il "nemico" e fiaccare ogni voce fuori dal coro. Errare è umano, perseverare è diabolico.

[thisiskatsblog]

Kat, Louis said he is worried for people who engage in the conspiracy theories about him and has said this multiple times over the years while never denouncing his son and making official statements that he is straight. Yall would have arguments for him being in chains for years wanting to be saved or rescued by his crusader fans if he didn't say so many times that these people harass him and his loved ones and he does not see conspiracy theorists in this fandom as his real fans.

Anon, I have only heard Louis utter the word conspiracy once. I looked it up the famous “conspiracy of fan fiction that is made up” for you, and have been thinking about the way he says “between me and hhharry” ever since. He goes on to say “Apparently, we are in a relationship and my girlfriend isn’t real”. Well okay Louis, if you say so. 

I think “denouncing” Freddie would be a pretty weird thing to do for him. All I’m saying is that I think it’s a cover, part of his closet, no need for him to publicly condemn the kid. 

Now, my favourite part, the “making statements that he is straight”. How many famous people do you know who have ever come out as straight? That’s not a thing in this heteronormative world of ours. It’s unnecessary, superfluous, completely redundant, and yes, a little excessive. Oh, the gay rumours you say. Yeah, here’s what a non-homophobic straight guy says about that. 

So you choose: you can have your Louis homophobic, or gay/LGBTQ+.

Louis “have faith in the future” “how is everyone doing today, stay positive”-every-month-during-COVID19 does NOT need saving by his fans. I’m not dumb, and I don’t think I’ve ever said any such ridiculous thing as Louis needing to be saved. Now that’s probably why you said Yall but your generalising doesn’t make me responsible for what others do.

Encouraging thousands of people to bring rainbow flags to concerts is probably the closest thing I’ve ever done to crusading, anon, but it’s not really crusading is it? It’s creating a supportive environment for LGBTQ fans, and (I imagine, even if that wasn’t ever the primary point) to any LGBTQ ppl in the band, if so -  and I doubt he considers that harrassment given that he’s been giving those flags the thumbs up for years now. Speaking of which, that post I just linked to probably narrows down your choices about how you can have your Louis. Seems the homophobic flavour sold out years ago. 

Again speaking of which, remember when Louis challenged an interviewers’ suggestion that male fans weren’t welcome and he said “whatever floats your boat” and “we love all of our fans no matter what or who they are”?

Yeah, I have an inkling he still thinks that - don’t know where that feeling comes from or maybe it’s the words “everyone” “you all”, “all of you” popping up in every second tweet he directs at us. Just lazily scrolling over his more recent tweets we got:

And where did you say Louis said something about some fans not being real fans? 

In short: I don’t have a feeling that Louis is worried about me. I have a feeling he cares.

[maybe-your-left]

A Case In Need: Am I Understood?

As always here is a link to my Masterlist with all my works. I just started a new Solo Triplets fic! 

Slight TW/CW: lots of swearing, some implied consent at the end. Violent overtones throughout. 

You haven't slept this soundly in a long time, usually you have to take some sleeping pills before lulling off to sleep but not tonight. Sunlight filtered in through your bedroom windows and you blinked your eyes open to rid the call back to your pillow. Behind you, there was a deep growling noise, followed by a hot breath on the back of your neck. Ren must’ve been sleeping with his mouth shut, you mused, wiggling your arm out you reached out for the clock on your bedside table. 

9 AM it read. 

“Mother fucker,” you yelled and threw Ren off with all your might. Successfully elbowing him in the face while untangling your limbs. 

“Jesus,” Ren cried out and applied pressure to his nose, “Why’d you fucking do that?” 

“We slept in,” you called from the closet. 

Ren whined in response, you heard the mattress creak while he threw his legs over the side followed by footsteps into the bathroom. He appeared while you were buttoning up a maroon blouse, keeping one hand on his nose. He stared at you with wide blinking eyes that were still fighting sleep. 

“Come on, we’re an hour late-” 

“What are you talking about (Y/N),” he grumbled before turning to his sink and inspecting his bruised skin. 

“My alarm didn’t go off this morning, we’re both late for work,” you pushed by him so you could reach for your toothbrush. Trying to get ready as fast as possible, throwing your hair up in an updo and smudging on your lipstick. Ren just glared at you while wiggling his nose, probably trying to get blood flow back after the hit he took. Hip bumping him to the side so you could spit out your toothpaste, he finally moved and went to the closet. Re-emerging seconds later with black slacks, buttoning up a dress shirt that was the same maroon as yours. 

“Oh you wanna be matching today?” you giggled while hopping out of the bathroom, searching for your phone. 

“Would it be wrong if I did?” he yelled back from the sink. 

Snorting back in response you made it down the hallway. Taking the stairs two at a time, pretty risky to do in heels, and finally making it to the kitchen. 

The Keurig was heating up with your coffee when Ren made it downstairs. Fixing the sleeves of his blazer jacket, seeming to look for his shoes he threw off yesterday night. You took a moment to appreciate the scene in front of you, silent domestic bliss between the two of you. This is how it would be if you and Ren were a… you shook your head at the thought. He was still very married, you couldn’t allow yourself to get used to the closeness. Clearing your throat you reached for a mug, “I forgot to tell you I’ve been working on the case file you gave me last week, found something interesting but we can talk about it when I get to the office.” 

“When you get to the office,” he mumbled while grabbing some cereal from your pantry, “Aren’t you riding with me?” 

“Why would I do that?” 

“Because you work for me,” a spoonful of cereal, “you sleep with me,” another chew, “you fuck me, you’re mine Angel I don’t know why you keep forgetting.” He ended with slurping milk from the bowl before standing up and placing it in the sink. “Let’s go.” 

He walked past you, grabbing his coat along with your purse which had your car keys inside them. Stopping at the front doorway he yelled for you, “Are you going to make me wait or should I have Ushar drag you to the car?” 

----- 

The drive to work was short and silent, except for the radio which was playing on some random talk radio bullshit. The man was droning on and on about stock prices and the unemployment rates, you felt yourself falling asleep because of how bored you were. Even the guy talking sounded like he was one sentence away from falling into a coma. 

You groaned, “Can we listen to some music, please?” 

“Hmm,” Ren smirked at you. You reached for the buttons to change it yourself but he was quicker than you, smacking your hand away. “Now now Angel, it’s my car. We are to listen to what I want.” 

“Oh my god…” you whined, trying to get him to release your hand from his death grip. 

“Someone’s being a brat today,” he slammed on his brakes, almost mowing over a pedestrian he was clearly not watching for. You would’ve slammed into the dashboard if it hadn't been for your seatbelt and Rens giant arm that was now outstretched in front of you. 

You pushed his arm away while he sped off again, “Maybe I wouldn’t be a brat if you didn’t try to kill me with your reckless driving.” 

“Hmm.” 

He slammed again, this time he didn’t shoot out his arm to protect you, leaving your head to whip forward and smack the dashboard. “Oh come on!” you cried, applying pressure to your forehead. You were so sure he had split it open, you fumbled with the mirror above you, examining the bump that was now forming. Luckily there was no open wound but it still didn’t make up for the fact that you had a screaming headache. “You fucking did that on purpose,” you smacked him in the chest. 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he smirked again, “I would never do anything to hurt you, my dear.”

“Just shut up,” you snapped, “And can we change the radio station this guy's voice is giving me a bigger headache.” 

“As you wish.” He reached forward and pressed another preset, making sure to give you a glare as he sat back. 

“Thank you,” you huffed, closing your eyes and waiting for the music to start playing, or at least another boring old man to start talking. 

Slowly the music started, you furrowed your eyebrows trying to concentrate on it instead of the pounding in your ears. As it was getting louder you could pick out some noises, a saxophone, for one thing, was present. Followed by some other deep instruments, you blinked a couple of times trying to understand what was going on. 

“Ah, I love this song,” Ren said before turning the volume up another few notches. 

“What the fuck is this-” 

“You don’t like jazz, Angel?” he smiled at you, it wasn’t a warm smile. More like a taunt for you to complain again, setting a trap for you to fall into. He waited, staring at you while you slowly began rubbing your temples, the music was far worse than the NPR radio, each sound was so disorganized and trying to desperately outdo the other instrument he might as well have slammed you in the dashboard again. 

Fuck this was going to be a long day. 

-----

“We have a meeting today with a client,” Ren said as he seated himself behind his desk, “It’ll be at the prison, however, so maybe sure you stay by me.” 

“Sounds good boss.” 

You were rifling through your bags trying to find the case file on the client, Armitage Hux was the name, you had read somewhere that he was a known criminal with a record to show for it. Thrown in and out of jails so many times he probably had his own personalized cell. Most of his charges were small: theft, forgery, robbery, lots of organized crime work. Nothing you weren’t used to seeing, but this time he was charged with something much worse. 

During your research you noticed that Hux was always found ‘innocent’ of these crimes, usually, the bail was paid off quickly and whoever was representing him had him out of court within a few hours. It was strange for this type of crime, what was also strange was the lack of information on those cases. It was almost like someone was erasing any information about his past the moment he was set free. 

Ren cleared his throat, “I must go see Palpatine before we set off.” 

“Oh, okay, let me grab my things and we can go,” you started repacking your bag. 

“That won’t be necessary,” he stated, getting up from his chair and walking towards you, “It’s a private matter. Meet me down at the car in 15 minutes Angel.” And with that he kissed you on the forehead and walked out, shutting the door behind him. 

“Whatever weirdo,” you muttered, this would be the first meeting you weren’t brought in with him. He usually had you take notes or something while he spoke with colleagues. But he seemed to be on edge when he rushed out. You shrugged and got up, now would be a good time to look around his office. Since you started working here you hadn’t gotten much downtime between reading, writing, and fucking.  

Walking around his desk you scanned the stacks of papers. Lots were in order, alphabetical, and by date. He seemed to run a tight ship with his workload. Along with stacks of papers, there were two frames on the left side of his desk, behind his desktop. You grabbed them to get a closer look. 

One was an old black and white photo, containing a young man who was very tall and skinny, flanked on both sides with an older man and woman. It looked like it was the young man’s graduation picture, he had tassels and stoles around his neck, achievements of hard academic work, the woman was beaming next to him, holding a bouquet of some sort. The older man was handsome, a little rougher than the woman, but he had the same smirk on his face that you’ve seen Ren have. 

“Must be his parents…” you whispered, setting the picture back down. You had never heard about his family, but it wasn’t like the two of you had ever spoken about personal things. 

The second picture was in color. It showed the same man, slightly longer black hair and less of a smile, standing outside the First Order office building. He was shaking hands with a man you didn’t recognize, he certainly wasn’t the man from the first photograph. No, this man was very different, his face although smiling had no happiness. Rigid and stiff even as the photo was being taken,  and behind him was Palpatine. 

Humming, you set the picture back down and glanced around the room some more. To the left of the desk were bookshelves. Filled with texts about the ever-changing laws throughout the nation, and even some about national security. Most of them were covered with dust, but you noticed a very boring pattern of non-fiction work throughout. It figures, you thought, Ren probably reads these for fun when he’s not out dictating my life. 

Looking down at your watch you saw you had about five minutes left before having to hoof it downstairs so you took that time to scan the walls for any other information. Your eyes settled on two diplomas framed by a very large fake plant. 

University of Oxford 

Faculty of Law 

Kylo Ren 

“Of course he went to Oxford… pretentious ass,” you looked down to the second one. 

Harvard University 

J.D. Law School 

Ben Solo 

You stared at it for a few seconds. Rereading it over and over, looking back and forth between the two papers. Ben Solo? Who the fuck was that? Did they print his name wrong? There’s no way, it’s a Harvard degree. Also if they had he would’ve definitely raised hell over it. Maybe it was just a leftover decoration from a previous lawyer… the frame was a little dustier than the top one. Seemed like maybe that could be it- 

Your phone started buzzing in your pocket. Shaking your head you fished it out and answered, “Hello this is (Y/N)-” 

“Where the fuck are you? I told you to meet me in the car in 15 minutes?” 

Ren. Of course, it was, “Sorry I was uh… going to the bathroom. Coming down now.” 

He hung up after that, clearly, he was in a bad mood. Maybe something in his meeting didn’t go well. Maybe Rey’s dad confronted him about the two of you… not like there was any way for him to know about it. Unless there were cameras in the office that the two of you didn’t know about. 

You shook that thought out of your mind and stepped out of the elevator into the parking garage. Ren was parked directly in front waiting for you. You swung the door open and climbed in while he slammed his foot on the gas, peeling out onto the road. 

“When I tell you to be somewhere I expect you to listen to me,” Ren spat at you. Not taking the time to look at you while he weaved through traffic. 

“Sorry, I just lost track of time, don’t know what the big deal is,” you huffed. 

Ren snorted, “The big deal is you have to listen to me. You’re mine. I expected that lesson I taught you yesterday to stick inside your head for longer than 24 hours.” 

“Oh, you mean when you almost drown me?” 

“Precisely Angel,” He purred at you, placing a hand on your knee, “You belong to me. I control where you go,” a squeeze, “What you do,” his hand slid upwards and squeezed again, “Even when you breathe.” gripping the inside of your thigh, digging his nails into you, “Am I understood?” 

You swallowed, “Yes Mr. Ren.” 

“Excellent, now we are meeting with a client. I expect you to stay quiet throughout and take notes diligently. We’ve worked with him before so it should be brief.” 

“We have?” you questioned, “Nothing in my research showed that he’s worked with the First Order before…” 

“Whatever the case, you will not speak while we meet with him. You are not there to counsel him, only to take notes about the conversation I have with him or any mannerisms he portrays during.” Ren looked over at you, he clearly needed you to listen to him. His usual auburn eyes were dark and cold, commanding you to stay in your place. You nodded and Ren patted your leg and the two of you drove in silence the rest of the way. 

—— 

You and Ren had walked in after parking. Every officer and guard seemed to know Ren personally, never checking his ID or anything, just waving him through. You were awestruck, the facility you were at was no laughing matter. It was a maximum security prison. Only for the worst of the worst criminals, crime bosses, murderers, rapists, serial killers, you name it and they were there. You scooted a little closer to Ren, hopefully to shield yourself from the fear rippling through you. 

“Scared Angel?” he chuckled, looking over his shoulder. “There’s nothing to fear. No one will touch you while I’m here.” 

“Okay,” you squeaked out. 

The guards led the two of you down a series of hallways before opening a steel door. Behind was a man, chained to a desk in the middle of the room. He was pale, not a shiner pale like Ren but more sickly. He had bright red hair atop his head, that was at one point styled but it seemed like he had been through the ringer. He had cold eyes, staring directly at you, not once looking at Ren. “Glad to see you’re finally here,” he spoke from behind a cigarette. 

“Apologies about our tardiness,” Ren spat, “Some pieces haven’t found their place yet.” 

He moved in front of the ginger, pulling out a chair and ushering you to sit before he did. “Thank you,” you whispered, trying to keep the gingers eye contact away from yours. 

“Whose this little fox you’ve brought Ren,” he cooed at you, leaning forward on the table, “She’s different than the last one.” 

“That’s enough Hux,” he spat, “Let’s get down to business.” 

You reached into your bag and handed Ren the case file. Grabbing out your pad and pen, you were ready for their conversation. 

“What’s your name little pet?” Hux blew smoke towards you. 

You coughed and shot a look at Ren, he was staring at Hux. His jaw clenched tight, his hands threatening to rip the file in half. 

“Cat got your tongue?” he taunted, “ Or are you not allowed to speak?” 

“Hux,” Ren boomed. 

“(Y/N). It’s (Y/N),” you spit out, staring down at your pad and pen. 

“(Y/N)... what a lovely name,” Hux cooed. The way he said your name felt like a threat. You knew immediately that you weren’t supposed to do that, Ren had told you not to speak. 

“If you’re not going to talk about your charges then my assistant and I will be leaving.” 

“Assistant, is that what you’re calling it now?” Hux laughed, taking another drag off the cigarette. “That’s a fancy way to say whore.” 

Ren lunges at Hux, knocking you to the floor in the process. Pinning him to the wall and repeatedly slamming him by his shoulders. You sat there with wide eyes, usually guards would burst in at the sign of commotion but the room was quiet. The only sounds were Hux and Ren's heavy breathing, both daring the other to make a move. 

“Kylo… we should go,” you squeaked out again. 

“Kyloooo you’re scaring your whore,” Hux smiled at him. Ren growled and shoved him one last time before turning to you. 

“Get up.” he barked. 

You scrambled to your feet, grabbing the papers that were thrown around. Ren's hand found purchase in your hair, gripping on and ushering you out of the room. 

Behind you Hux yelled, “I’m sure Snoke will be happy to hear about this!” and the door slammed shut. 

—— 

Ren said nothing. 

Not even when he shoved you into the car, buckled you into the seat and sped off. He was obviously not heading back to the office. His grip on the wheel was so tight it looked like he was going to snap it. 

“Where are we-“ 

“I told you not to speak.” 

“I’m sorry I just-“ 

He pulled in front of a hotel, “No I don’t think you understand Angel. I told you not to speak, and you disobeyed me.” 

The valet knocked on his window, tearing Rens stare from you. He stepped out and handed the keys to the young man. Rounding the car he ripped open your door and pulled you out by your wrist. 

You didn’t struggle, you were so confused as to where you were going. Why did he bring you to a hotel? Was he going to forgive you for earlier? What had Hux meant about you being a whore? 

Once inside the elevator, he let go of you and sighed. His shoulders finally relaxed, and he cracked his neck left and right. “I think it’s time you understood who you belong to.” 

You stared at him, eyebrows furrowed with concern, “What do you mean?” 

“What I mean is,” the doors opened and he walked out, “You’ll either listen to me tonight, or you’ll be severely hurt.” 

You gulped, was he going to beat you? Was this it? You had always felt safe with him but something about the meeting earlier had left him… unhinged. He opened the door and shoved you in. 

The suite was huge, full kitchen and living room. Large king bed, and a huge bathroom. 

“Strip for me.” 

“What?” 

“Strip for me or I’ll do it for you,” he threatened. 

Swallowing again you slowly took off your clothes, all the way down to your heels. Attempting to cover yourself from his predatory gaze. He walked over to you and held your face. “Do you trust me Angel?” he whispered. 

“Yes.” 

He gave you a soft kiss, delicately tracing your lips with his own. “Sit down on the couch.” 

You followed his instructions, eager to see where this was going. Ren disappeared into the bathroom, re-emerging with items in his hands. “Now, I’m going to put these on you, and you’re not going to struggle, do you understand?” You nodded. “If you struggle this is going to hurt you more, tell me you understand.” 

“Yes Mr. Ren.” 

“Good,” he cooed. He pushed you back against the sofa, and tied a blindfold over your eyes. You giggled, excited about where this was headed. 

Suddenly Ren was behind the sofa, grabbing your left wrist and attaching something around it. He repeated it with the other one. “Try to move Angel.” 

You tried to pull your arms back over the couch, but found that they were chained to something. “What’s going on Ren-“ 

He then attached chains to both your ankles. Leaving you spread eagle across the couch. Unable to move, unable to see his intentions. A knock at the door, Ren sighed, “Their here early.” 

“Who's here? What’s going on?” 

“One more thing before I forget,” he hummed. He pinched your jaw, forcing it open and shoved a gag in your mouth. Strapping it around your skull. You trashed and cried out, but they came out as moans because you were unable to speak. 

“It’ll all be over soon.” Ren whispered and then opened the door. 

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