#people who have been pushed and prodded and abused by the system

[sapphic-storm69]

POV: you’re staring at the person who made the saddest, most depressing movie you’ve ever seen, into a meme

[agenderfrenchfry]

I’m very glad that we, as a community, are taking a step back and evaluating how we interact with each other and the thoughts we put out into the world. I’d wanted to speak up about the inherent toxicity this fandom can exude at times myself, but to be honest? I was scared. I still am typing this out! But I trust myself and the people around me, and view this as an important discussion we need to have. My experience in the ibvs fandom has been shared in bits and pieces before, but never fully mapped out. That’s what I’m going to try to do now. (This might seem random at first, but trust me, it’s on topic.)

⚠️Tw for abusive relationships and grooming!⚠️

When I was 13 years old, I was released into the absolute Wild West that is the internet. By all accounts, I was a responsible kid in the eyes of my parents, so I was given little to no monitoring when it came to the content I consumed. Shortly thereafter, I was introduced to someone who would come to define - and end - the rest of my childhood.

Feli, or RainbowWreck on Tumblr, was a system with alters that ranged from far younger than me to far, far older. We met when I sent a response to one of their vent posts, and quickly bonded over a D&D au of IBVS. When tumblr messaging grew inconvenient, we moved to Discord, where we conversed nearly every day. At this point, I was ecstatic. Yes, one friend halfway around the world may have seemed minuscule in the grand scheme of things to others, but I was a severely lonely, chronically anxious autistic kid in middle school of all places. I had no other friends, I was at the stage of my life where connecting with family was getting harder, and overall Feli just seemed like a godsend. Looking back, I can see now that this really made me a perfect target.

I don’t know when things started growing sinister. Do you ever? Slowly, they started pushing. Ignoring my boundaries and testing me to see just how far out of my comfort zone I could be prodded. This often ended up in a horrible panic attack on my end, but I was terrified of the alternative. When angered, they would grow cold, despondent, and threatening. At the same time, they convinced me that my family was evil; that they were the only safe person in my life. They never lay a finger on me, but the amount of control they held over my younger self was terrifying. At the time, I would have done anything for them.

Over time, I became more used to volunteering information about myself, like my name, face, and where I lived. (Hey kids? DON’T DO THIS) I had an especially close relationship with one alter named Wolfie of about 17, who began to dub me his son. I was still only 13. Eventually, it reached the point where they started openly talking about kink and sexual content around me, and I accepted it. This was someone I thought I was safe around. Someone who called himself my father. I was still only 13.

I got out by sheer luck, and what they’ve done still haunts me to this day. Trust me, I’m only just beginning to unravel all the shit they pulled, and this is only a brief summary.

What I’m trying to say is, when people say that nsfw content of minors hurts “someone”, you don’t fully understand that “someone” is real until it happens to a person you’re close with - or, god forbid, you yourself. But trust me, it does. If I had been less desensitized to pornographic imagery at a young age, I probably would have recognized what was happening to me sooner. Maybe I’d be a completely different, healthier person. But that version of me doesn’t get to exist.

So if you happen to be scrolling on tumblr one day and stumble across content like a drawing of minors playing strip monopoly or a fic where the Jovel twins do hanky panky, please, say something. You could really make a difference in the life of a kid who was like me.

[thedeviljudges]

For today’s ‘i really, really love kang yohan’ post, we’re gonna be develing into a little bit of emotional intelligence and the fact that Yohan both possesses it while simultaneously doesn’t, lmao.

Yohan is portrayed as a hunter and a shark. He’s said this himself in his own words. He’s read up on dynamics of humans and instincts and basis himself off of a monster for a couple of different reasons, but the main one being the fact that people believed him to be as such instead of coming down to his level as a child to understand him.

This by far, means Yohan was emotionally neglected (physically too, but that’s, in some ways, addressed in my other meta post) by parental figures in his life except for the nanny, possibly, on occasion, and isaac - but even then, we know it must’ve only been to a certain extent. On top of that, yohan’s only true witness to emotions is through those people in the house, and needless to say, one of them was off the walls abusive.

It’s why we get scenes like the choking one because when Yohan is angry, guess how he’s learned to express that? It’s physical, but it ties in emotionally. Yohan lashes out the only way he knows how, but this is also an indicator that he’s lied about being a monster. Why? Because people with extreme reactions to emotionally charged questions (like your associate judge accusing you of killing your brother, for example) can often mean that it’s more than just a sensitive topic; it actually matters to that person. At this point, gaon does not know isaac’s story, but we later learn yohan’s version of the fire, and it’s slowly revealed through Elijah, specifically, just how much family is a tough topic for Yohan.

And fortunately, gaon sees right through yohan’s bullshit when he calls him out about how he should be a victim, not a monster. Which opens up the door to us understanding why Yohan does what he does and says what he says even more because it’s revealed through that conversation that these are specific words Yohan has heard before. So not only has he been emotionally stunted as a child by way of abuse, he’s had so many people in his life look at him as a callous monster. And when that happens, don’t you start to believe it? Don’t you lose a little bit of your humanity and become the very thing people say you are?

However, this is also yohan’s strength in the world he lives in, especially with the intent to seek revenge for Isaac. He can put his emotions aside and think clearly, even in situations that should rile him up. You can actually see him get… amused when someone tries to put him in a corner. Yohan doesn’t rely on emotions because it’s logic, rational and strategy that gets him every single checkmate. It’s what’s got him to the point he’s at now. It’s how he’s able to push gaon into seeing reason because if you look at things from the perspective of philosophy and science (by way of human nature), it becomes easier to see a path and a plan so very clearly to whatever outcome you’re wanting.

The issue that comes into play circles back around with family. Because Yohan did not grow up in a healthy environment, he doesn’t know what family actually means and what dynamic it should look like. The past several years he’s spent with Elijah, he’s lived it logically because it means keeping her safe without taking into consideration the fact that Elijah is not like himself and did not grow up in the same environment he did. Only, Yohan also has a habit of not telling anyone his plans, and that’s where the miscommunication starts. How is Elijah to know why Yohan keeps her away from the world? It’s revealed she’s been kidnapped twice, but does Elijah truly understand yohan’s perspective? No, she’s a teenager, and gaon was right about it not being fair to keep her locked away.

But I digress. Here you have a man with a plan with repressed emotions and then enter one kim gaon, and he’s asked for trouble. One of the reasons Yohan, I believe, has kept gaon around is because he defies the typical. He challenges Yohan, not in an act of dominance, but out of another way of thinking, and that’s a big difference. Things might go over gaon’s head, and he’s not always right, but he’s looking at all perspectives, even if they’re wrong. Multiple times Yohan has been surprised by gaon’s way of thinking. That’s intriguing and it’s different.

Which lead to situations where gaon’s confronting Yohan about himself, holding up a mirror and asking him if that’s truly who he is or if it’s someone he’s trying to be, if he’s listening to what other people have told him or if he’s actually listening to himself. Which is kind of ironic with Yohan only being able to trust himself, but he can’t even do that, can he? He lies to himself in order not to face what he truly feels. And that’s because it’s filled with pain, and Yohan doesn’t have time for that.

But there is also a reason why a lot of his progress takes place in his house and away from the world because a home is meant for vulnerability and while Yohan and Elijah haven’t had that in a while, Yohan didn’t take into account gaon’s ability to see things differently. Yohan saw gaon’s mind for his plan and for the overarching plot to oust the rich, but what he did not consider is how that would translate into his personal life. Which is hilarious because Yohan is the one that brought gaon into his home in the first place and ultimately ended up with a surprise of a man who’s clearly moved in because Yohan never tells him he has to leave.

So, that’s where things begin to unravel. Gaon tests Yohan’s patience and emotions in ways he hasn’t been tested. Again, gaon’s held up the mirror and asked him to consider looking deeper for the actual truth instead of the façade Yohan lets himself believe is real. Gaon is also one of the only other people in yohan’s life that has actually considered yohan’s feelings and, in turn, elijah’s. gaon is also a man of righteousness and it makes sense that he’s not afraid to share parts of himself if it means it’s doing something good.

We see this particularly with Elijah, telling her about his parents, not reprimanding her over her murder plot, lmao. gaon grew up in an emotionally healthy, and most likely, happy household where he could express himself without feeling like a burden. He has patience and kindness imbedded into his being.

So with that dynamic of being in a home where people are not on display in front of the world, with gaon’s ability to emotionally connect with people, and finding out the looming secrets of the kang household, it becomes rife with opportunity to peel back those layers and expose them for what they are and talk about it and instead of hiding it away in the shadows. Gaon gives them all space to have those emotions, and while he prods and he asks questions, it’s generally in the form of a gentle reminder that other perspectives exists than the ones that are within those four walls. Gaon doesn’t get angry necessarily, and he apologizes when he’s wrong. His straightforwardness and heart-on-his-sleeve demeanor actually works in his favor, albeit a bit misguided at times.

And with all of this, it’s how Yohan slowly begins to open up. Gaon might be accusatory from his distrust of Yohan, but it’s from a place of curiosity and determination to understand, ultimately, rather than a motive of punishment. I think gaon connecting with Elijah is also the icing on the cake and driving motivator that yohan made a good choice in keeping gaon around because Yohan notices the change in his niece and how much happier she is. Gaon’s directly pointed fingers at Yohan and he’s spied on him, but he’s also confronted Yohan about what he’s done head on without taking justice into his own hands. So with those two things combined (helping elijah and wanting understanding), and even yohan’s determination to get gaon on his side, means that level of trust has slowly, but surely, grown into something much more than Yohan ever thought it could be.

Because again, Yohan did not think about the intricacies of living with other people at home and how well you get to know them by merely existing under the same roof. Gaon learns little things about Yohan and doesn’t use them to his advantage or as a slight – maybe in the beginning with the spying, if we want to give him any credit at all for that. Gaon sees a problem and tries to fix it – just like he sees a problem with the world and with corruption and uses the justice system to fix it.

With all of that understanding and poking and prodding, gaon learns how much Yohan cares for Isaac and for Elijah and validates those emotions while still giving Yohan a slap on the wrist for how he’s expressed that care. He learns of yohan’s abuse and confirmed and supported the idea of being a victim and how that’s okay, that Yohan needs to learn to accept it for himself in order to truly heal. He’s berated Yohan for not showing more kindness to Elijah, the only family he has left and just how important that bond is, after discovering what Elijah means to Yohan.

And that’s given Yohan agency with his own emotions. He’s cried over the memory of his father abusing him and wishing he could’ve stopped it. He’s admitted that he hates when gaon looks at him like he’s a monster, and he definitely hates it when gaon makes assumptions and dives in head first without actually thinking things through. But that is also an advantage of Yohan: understanding someone emotionally because it means that Yohan has learned so much about gaon and the way he thinks that when in episode 9 he tells gaon about how he reminds him of Isaac with his assumptions, it comes from a place of discussion rather than anger. He’s realized the way to get through to gaon is through talking and physically showing gaon how he thinks (the prison reveal). Granted, he’s been doing this with gaon since the beginning, but it’s become even more pertinent now.

The thing is, Yohan has recognized gaon’s kindness at this point. He’s witnessed it in his misguided understanding of the justice system. But what’s truly interesting is that Yohan understands gaon’s kindness, but he still doesn’t understand the world’s. Yohan has a very different perspective of what kindness looks like because it’s not actual kindness but motivation and ulterior motives. Kindness to Yohan is power play – it’s people using others by any means necessary to get a leg up. It’s self-serving for their own benefit and not for others.

Which is also how that first seed of trust is planted with gaon – when he saved the little girl and the bus driver. And how more seeds are trusted by way of gaon doing what gaon does best – provoking Yohan with different thoughts, especially when it comes to family.

But this also applies to yohan’s understanding and hypocrisy when it comes to Elijah and kindness. At this point and by episode 9, Yohan has accepted gaon’s kindness. He’s let it in, lets Elijah indulge in it because he’s noticed that their home is happier – by way of making gaon come back because Elijah missed him. Yohan believes Elijah naïve for trusting others who show her any ounce of kindness, but the thing is, Yohan has come to trust gaon. He’s witnessed the kindness and the understanding, and yet it’s much easier to continue believing that it’s actually a cruel and ugly thing, especially in the wake of Elijah getting hurt, and that’s his default method of coping. Kindness got Elijah hurt and in trouble. It’s what makes you weak.

And if there is one thing we know about Yohan is that he’s anything but weak, but it’s another lie. Kindness did not get Yohan anywhere in life. Kindness got his brother murdered and his family taken away from him.

But the saving grace from that way of thinking? Gaon, yet again, telling Yohan why he’s wrong. Gaon tells Yohan every human needs someone to rely on as long as they’re human, and I think that was certainly a pain point of remembrance in how Yohan had no one but Isaac and then no one after. only this time, a point is made by way of Elijah because she only has Yohan now and she, unlike what Yohan convinces himself he doesn’t need, actually wants to experience human nature – that innate thing kang Yohan has so desperately read about and studied without taking into consideration that the carnal desires of humanity don’t always outweigh the good found within.

And isn’t that just a little bit ironic how someone so capable of understanding the human psyche cannot simply recognize kindness when it’s so freely given? If he weren’t the skeptic and the hypocrite, maybe he’d see what’s right before his eyes, and maybe he’d see just how far he’s come in allowing someone to see parts of himself he’d always been led to believe didn’t matter.

Kang Yohan is a complex character, but he has so much room for growth, and it’s exciting witnessing that in baby steps – and that’s all because he couldn’t tell his doe-eyed associate judge no. sucks for Yohan, I guess; getting himself into a mess he cannot get himself out of, an issue of his own doing and one we very clearly have seen he doesn’t want to rectify, lmao.

also one more thing..... that dinner scene in ep 9 is also a true testament of what can be done with just a little provocation because there you have yohan realizeing what a happy home can look like if he just tries to be more vulnerable and that it actually, in fact, does matter.

[theseerasures]

why is it so hard to defect from Atlas?

Barbara Dunkelmann said during Comic-Con at Home last year that this season’s theme would be “distrust,” but i’m wondering now if the more appropriate word is “discontent.” since Divide, we’ve had arguments big and small, teams splitting up and recombining, and of course, :( and :/ galore at all the war, all the crimes, all the war crimes, and all the general bad decisions (not to be confused with James Ironwood, General Bad Decisions). we’ve now had our first major defections of the season with Hazel and Emerald, which is...interesting to me; they’re both long-runners, certainly, but part of the reason they’re long-running is because their arcs have ALWAYS been on a slow boil. for the defection to happen around the mid-season mark, a lot of things (particularly for Hazel) had to happen very quickly, particularly since they both skipped out the previous season altogether. this is made all the more interesting by the fact that the Atlesian supporting cast who filled the time in season 7 are similarly discontented, but...well, a generous reading of it would be that they’re still “figuring things out,” but we’ve also been watching them “figure things out” for two seasons now, Winter and Marrow especially. why did Hazel and Emerald defect first when they work for the main villain, when Winter and the AceOps--who have taken up more screen time cumulatively during the Atlas arc--are still hemming and hawing to various degrees?

long discussion under the cut--but the tl;dr is: it’s because they live in a (narratively constructed) society

i’m actually gonna start with the discontent that DIDN’T result in defection, which is obviously the Yang-Ruby split. we’ve known that members of Team Protagonist--most notably Yang and Ren--have had doubts for a while now, and sure enough, when push comes to shove they pick a path separate from their implicit leader. as protagonists Yang and Ren are frequently our POV characters, so we’re predisposed to sympathize with them as they doubt Ruby’s agenda, root for them as they bring it up to Ruby in conversation, and...watch as they...regretfully but cordially agree to disagree...

wait, what?

that’s the thing about Team Protagonist, especially at this point in the narrative: everyone feels safe and secure enough in themselves and in each other to communicate openly, even when they disagree. every time Yang felt uncomfortable she talked to somebody about it, and even Ren--Mr. Weaponizing Repression himself--was able to express how he felt. even if it took some prodding from Nora/Yang, even if the direction of his emotions ended up misfiring and hurting his friends--they’re his friends. his family, even. Team Protagonist is able to act and stay together so effectively because they make open communication a priority: they follow Ruby’s lead, but they also trust that Ruby will LISTEN to them, even if she doesn’t always agree.

(the reason they had this disagreement at all is because of the time they couldn’t talk things through, and just had to uncritically back Ruby’s play--when they first entered Atlas. funny, that.)

Team Salem obviously doesn’t work the same way, and this season has made it particularly explicit just how much everyone lives in a state of constant fear and surveillance. what makes solidarity and eventual rebellion possible (though terrifying), though, are two things: first, Salem--being an upstart herself--actually encourages a level of individual initiative in her followers (well. encouraged; i have a feeling with the Hound being a success and Hazel and Emerald’s defection she’s about to change her tune). she’s a master manipulator, and uses people’s individual wants to sway them to her side; but she’s also not a mind-reader, which is kind of biting her in the ass right now.

second, Salem herself is so many LEAGUES beyond everyone else on her “team” that (unless you’re actively trying to be a tit) there...isn’t actually much of a hierarchy beyond “Salem’s in charge.” Watts and Cinder--both Atlesian to varying degrees, mind--are the two who try the hardest to carve out some authority of their own, but even Watts is at least convivial with everyone (except Cinder). to be on Team Salem you have to accept that this is her world and you just live in it, and that ends up equalizing people from very disparate backgrounds with very disparate personalities and skillsets. no one, not even Tyrian, is under the delusion that Salem cares about them, or will listen to their counsel. so when it comes to the least of her followers--Emerald, who (joke copyright @professorspork) is basically Salem’s grandpet, this gerbil who follows her around now for some reason and occasionally makes weird noises (”you mean crying?” Emerald asks, crying)--it’s actually quite easy for her to escape Salem’s notice until it’s too late, while firming up the solidarities that she has (Hazel and Mercury--not Cinder).

to defect, Emerald and Hazel need a degree of narrative interiority, some sense of security with each other (even if it’s just subconscious), and time. time to work things out from their point of view, pull the wool from their eyes. this season’s narrative has given them all that and more.

our Atlesian potential defectors...haven’t been so lucky, and the most recent episode has made that contrast very explicit.

i’m sure i’m not the only one who assumed, when Ironwood first floated the bomb plan, that we’d be getting some kind of Mission Impossible sneaky stealth shit. we’re used to seeing the AceOps do small squad missions, after all, and the timing felt right thematically too, since we left War with Ren literally expositing to all of them that they do, in fact, have feelings. an extended mission to themselves would give them a chance to air out those feelings away from Atlas’ own system of surveillance, figure out what to do together...

but we didn’t get any of that. instead, we got the whoosh laser kapow version of a Sassoon poem, and the AceOps barely talked to each other at all. the only points of view we got were from Marrow, and Winter.

this isn’t the first time something like this has happened to them this season, either--remember the Penny Retrieval mission that wasn’t? there were also hopes that Marrow and/or Winter would turn at that point, but then Salem invaded. Winter and the AceOps have had the potential to defect for a while now, but the narrative has been actively withholding opportunities for them to actualize on any of that potential. it’s been actively withholding opportunities for them to act as a team, period.

it’s possible to handwave this as writerly convenience--everyone can’t defect at the same time, the episodes don’t have room for it--but the ways that defections have been prioritized so that the Atlesians come after also points to a recurring motif with Atlas, which Elm says explicitly in Witch: you can deal with your issues later.

there’s always some kind of delayed promise at Atlas, isn’t there? the Amity project will help. Mantle’s Wall will get fixed (until it wasn’t). when Penny confronts Winter about leaving Mantle to die, Winter says first that they don’t have time, and it seems like they never actually do, except for in this imagined later, when they’ll reckon with every thing that they’ve done.

it doesn’t exist, of course. fascism is only able to remain effective through the engineering of crisis, and Salem might as well be a crisis perpetual motion generator. you can’t conscientiously object if your conscience is constantly stifled by the next emergency.

what the Atlesian scenes in Witch demonstrate is this: Atlas presses down all around them, at all times. even if the AceOps want to stop policing each other and work as a real team, they can’t right now, because they are now officers in a war, because they’re constantly looked to, because they’re part of an infinitely greater machine that demands their service. and right now lasts forever--you will NEVER have time to talk out your discontent...

and even if you steal time and perspective like Marrow does (like Emerald has been doing, thief that she is) with Winter, there is no guarantee of any solidarity. what makes their conversation so simultaneously fascinating and frustrating is that there is clearly some level of rapport, or at least recognition. Marrow goes to Winter because Winter’s in charge, but Marrow also goes to Winter because Winter might hear him out...and she does. Winter does what Winter has consistently done when a person seeks her out and earnestly asks to be heard, and responds compassionately. but at the same time, Winter does what Winter has consistently done when a person seeks her out and earnestly asks to be heard: she turns away. in a conversation that is supposed to be about a shared trust between the two of them, Winter cannot bring herself to trust Marrow. the Atlesian system is built out of these hierarchies within hierarchies, distrusts within distrusts (well i guess Barbara had a point after all), and Winter, abused kid that she is, has played this game all her life. so she defaults to rank and duty--what they have to do now--and the conversation goes nowhere. Marrow leaves it as alone and bitterly resigned as when he’d entered it.

so when is this moral inertia gonna go somewhere? IS it going somewhere? well, i’m still holding out hope that the AceOps will get some time to themselves as part of Bomb the Whale, and i’m certain that even if it doesn’t fall into their lap Marrow will eventually demand it. the fact that they still work well together on the field as partners should mean something. the question is, though: what will it take to bring that later to the present?

and at what point does it become too late?

[the-dragon-hearted]

Dream and Technoblade

So, the Dream and Techno villain duo - a breakdown of their characterization:

Get yourself a rival who will bond with you in prison, laugh at your jokes, argue with your shared torturers, and then leave you hidden Blueprints under the block where you two formed your first alliance. Get yourself someone who is your opposite in many ways, but your equal in so many others.

__________________________________________________________

Technoblade and Dream have always been the epitome of strength for the server. In that way, they're equals.

They've always been the tanks, the aces up the sleeves, the be-all-end-all. Equals.

They're similar in how they are quick to resort to violence as it's what they're best at. They're similar in how they very easily forget about the innocents they hurt to achieve their separate goals. They're similar in their basic characterization.

In other ways, they're completely different.

Take, for instance, their selfishness:

Both Dream and Techno have always been selfish. Dream's selfishness has been shown in his quest for power, for godhood. It's etched in the exile arc and brought to light in the final showdown where he finally meets his match; Punz's betrayal and the unexpected unification of the server against his, said, greed and selfishness.

Techno's selfishness on the other hand is shown when he sets a goal and sees it through because he is right and no one else can matter. It's seen in how he destroys L'Manburg two times; both times he sees himself to be in the right and pushes aside anyone else's opinion. Both times he takes action based on what he wants.

Dream's lust for power and control pushed everyone else he ever cared for away. He's always been self-serving with a flair for the dramatics (very different for dry-cut Technoblade who's never been impressed by anything thespian or dramatic). Unlike Technoblade, Dream is never happy where he is - he's always wanting something more. He's always been searching for the next big power, the next revival book, the next puppet to manipulate.

Techno's selfishness is different. He's never aspired to be anything more than what he is; Technoblade. All he's ever wanted is to exist without someone hurting him. He's correlated governments and anyone with 'power' to be something that can hurt him or those he cares about so he strikes out at them and destroys them without a second thought.

This basic character trait seems two-dimensional until you see how it's applied to the characters. Dream's selfishness isolated him from any support system and alienated him from his own friends, his own trusted mercenary. Techno's selfishness led him to do anything for those he cared for, even at the expense of others; it created a staunch loyalty that cemented his support system in Philza and now in the syndicate.

They're opposites to one another in how their selfishness formed them, but they're on parallel paths.

Furthermore, there's how these rivals interact with the plot:

Dream's always climbing up the next mountain. Yearning for the next battle. Every time we've seen Dream, except for the prison arc, he's always ready to fight. Always picking, poking, prodding, urging the plot to move along because he is never happy where he is. This is partially due to the fact that the audience never sees Dream except for when he is in a lore stream, whenever he's on the stream he's always turning the gears in the scene. He's either one of the main players or he's a constant threat watching from the sidelines.

Techno, on the other hand, was happy staying stagnant with the plot. The most motivated he saw him was while he was helping take back Manburg, and even then all he was trying to do was tear down the government and establish what he thought would be the next sense of normalcy; anarchy. After he tore down the government himself he took joy in staying stagnant. It almost felt like he was being unwillingly pulled along with the plot that he wanted nothing to do with (not the content creator, but the character) in how he was forced out of retirement by the people he hurt. He always seemed to like the norm. He was happy with Philza, with his house and his farm. He was happy with his crimes and his guilt. He never aspired or wanted anything else except to keep himself and his friends right where they were, without changing because changing could mean pain and Technoblade has made it clear that he does not like to feel pain, especially in the emotional sense.

The prison is a brilliant arc and I will stand by it because it did one crucial thing for these two villains; it brought them back into action. It brought them together.

It gave them both a reason to fight and it gave them sympathy from the audience. Now - before we get into the "abusers should not be given sympathy" argument we have to remember what we're watching here. It's a story. It's a special story in the sense that every character wants their voice to be heard. There's not one narrator behind it who can slight certain characters as the characters are all individually controlled by actual people. Of course, the plot lines are not going to be moral or necessarily 'good' in a moral sense - but they never had been. Dream has made it clear that he's a villain and the prison arc wasn't meant to make everyone go "ohhhhhh poor green bby :( " - it was meant to showcase Sam and Quackity. The prison arc was Quackity's time to develop and grow comfortable in the power vacuum that Dream left behind. It was Sam's time to fall from grace and lose himself. It was Dream's time, for the first time in his character's life, to stay still.

The prison arc poised the question: "What would happen if one of the biggest powerhouses was pulled from play?" What would happen to the plot if the big bad villain wasn't around?

The answer; a new villain/issue rises. Quackity, Wilbur - these people that the audience knows are not truly evil people were able to play around in the sandbox without Dream there to overshadow them.

But what about Technoblade? Well, funny enough the prison arc did for Techno the exact opposite thing it did for his rival. Technoblade gained more power, he made more friends, his syndicate - while not very active (which is fitting for the man who wants nothing more than for everything to stay the same) is still a support system. Dream became less of a threat but Techno remained the same threat he'd always been, just as distant as he always had been, with no reason to throw himself back into the fray.

Until, of course, they were both imprisoned. Now I could go on and on about how Techno's willingness to walk into a trap really spells out the interest he holds for his rival and the trust he holds for Philza. I could go on about how shoving those two rivals together was lovely for these antagonists to grow. But for now, let's focus on what the prison did for the characters in a fundamental sense.

Time in prison taught Dream fear. It taught his character what it felt like to be stagnant. What it felt like for nothing to happen. Now, it remains to be seen what the plot will do now that Dream is free. Will he continue to push it forward just as he had before or will he be more discreet, warier? Perhaps the time in prison will finally teach Dream to be more cautious - but who can say? All that's certain is he will not forget Quackity for what he did, just as Tommy won't forget Dream.

Time in prison for Techno, on the other hand, taught him nothing. All the prison did was reaffirm what Techno always thought; any large institution, anything with power will try to hurt Technoblade. The prison had the same effect on Techno as the Butcher Army did - it pulled him back into the plot kicking and screaming because the greatest warrior on the SMP cannot be allowed to sit idle. What the prison was meant to do was give Technoblade an excuse to come back into the plot, reluctant as ever because that's who he's always been.

So now the two are free, and they have the same goal. History does indeed repeat itself.

Their first alliance was formed in shadow, where Dream refused to outwardly say if whether he supported Pogtopia or not but his actions towards Techno made it clear that he would assist, albeit secretly. They didn't need to share words for both to get what the other wanted.

Their second alliance came after L'Manburg was won back from Schlatt, also forged in whispers. A whisper and an answer that resulted in chaos and destruction for which the two needed no rehearsal.

Their third came to finish off what they'd started, tearing a young country apart. They've never needed to plan, they're so similar that both Dream and Technoblade had prepared to annihilate L'Manburg on their own. All their alliance did was spell absolute decimation.

Now, it begins again. Only fitting their next alliance will go back to the hill where it began, with few words and an equation that spells destruction.

The prison may change Dream. It will not change Techno. Now, they're both out, closer than ever. Two loners, strong in their own right with a vendetta against the world.

It's almost guaranteed that they will be back for vengeance. Either together or on their own. Another similarity they share; they can be vindictive

[imaginesga1ore]

Loves Harsh Reality

Summary: Life is a bitch.

Pairing(s): Bucky Barnes x Reader, Avengers x Reader (all platonic)

Warnings: swearing, mention of past/current abuse

Prompt: “You want what everyone wants. You want a love that consumes you. You want passion, and adventure, and maybe even a little danger.”

Word Count: 1780

Do not copy, translate, or post any of my stories anywhere you write stories, whether that’s here, Wattpad, or Ao3.

-----------------------------

Life never treated you well. Not even when you were just an innocent child, trying to navigate your way in this terrible world. You were forced into a cold and unloving organization that was run by people who don’t really give a shit that you were only 2 when they stole you. They never treated you like a human, more like a laboratory experiment, which kind of went haywire. When you were brought in, the sleaze running this entire operation stripped you of everything you had so far, which was only a name you had just barely begun to learn, and they assigned you a number, much like a court case; experiment 973. And that’s what you went by for the next 23 years of your life.

The day you were rescued from that deranged and psychotic place was...hectic to say the least. It began like any other day while you were their little pet; get woken up at the ass crack of you don’t know when, test out your powers until you physically passed out and then get ungracefully woken again only to be forced to use your powers. This continues for hours on end before these assholes make you go fight actual people in hopes that you aren’t lacking in physical strength. You fight until bodies start piling up and when your sadistic handlers are satisfied with your progress, as if you haven’t they haven’t been training you to take down monsters bigger than Goliath himself. But something wasn’t right and you could feel it in the enclosed space of your cell.

While you normally had a rough awakening by someone poking, prodding, and eventually yanking you out of bed, nobody was there. In fact, there wasn’t even a peep from the cells neighboring yours. That was until you heard multiple gunshots and multiple bodies slumping against the floor. See, the thing about HYDRA is that they’ve trained you for this exact moment but every single ounce of training they’ve ingrained in your body and mind left the building completely as you hunkered down against the wall furthest from the thick, metal door barricading you from the outside world.

Suddenly, the door you were just measly standing behind came crashing down, dust from the unwashed floor rising. After the dust settled, you looked up to see the poster boy of HYDRA himself, the Winter Soldier. “Steve, I’ve got a live one here. Female, looks to be in her mid-20s,” he whispered into his ear piece. He slowly moved closer, putting his weapon away as he noticed your frail body shaking from fear. “У тебя все нормально? Я ведь не бил тебя дверью?*” Shaking your head, the soldier stopped in front of you, kneeling next to you. “Меня зовут Баки. Что у тебя?” Shrugging your shoulders, you made an attempt to look over at him. “That’s ok. How long have you been here?”

“двадцать три года*,” you said, a bit of hesitation in your voice, finding it hard to speak after decades of being punished if you spoke out of turn. As you finished speaking, you heard another voice, one which you assumed belonged to this Steve person.

“Хорошо. Стив дал мне добро, чтобы мы могли ��бираться отсюда,” Bucky said, standing back up on his feet. But you weren’t too sure about this. Along with your training, your handlers had pushed on you the notion that the Avengers, and anyone associated with them, were out to harm you, always, and that’s why you needed to be able to defend yourself.

“Ты ведь не сделаешь мне больно, верно? О-или убить меня,” you asked, clear hesitation towards the soldier who was about to grant you freedom from this hellhole.

Bucky looked at you with sympathy drawn over his features. Shaking his head, he gently grabbed your hands, a shiver traveling up your spine at the coolness from the vibranium arm. “Конечно, нет. Я вытащу тебя отсюда.”

-TIME SKIP-

It had been a few months since the Avengers had rescued you from HYDRA and you were beyond grateful that Bucky had stumbled upon you that day. But the fear that HYDRA had instilled in you about being near the Avengers was still running rampant in your system. Whenever someone knocked on your door, or came up behind you, your fight or flight instincts kicked in like that of an animal in the wild. You thought it’d be better by now, considering you have been going to therapy since coming to the compound. But today, all your frustrations came to a head.

You probably should’ve been in bed considering it was 4 in the morning but you needed to burn off some steam. What you failed to realize was that a certain super soldier was sitting in one of the boxes above the training center, watching your every move. But, him being a super soldier meant that he could pick up on more than you realized. Bucky had noticed that blood dripping onto the floor, which came from your terribly wrapped hands.

He knew you were on edge, but not like you were when he first got you out. By the time that you realized Bucky was in your presence, it was a bit too late. You felt a hand on your shoulder; two seconds later you had the body attached to the arm on the floor, your other arm extending towards their throat, keeping them pinned to the floor.

Once the haze cleared, you could tell who it was that you had down on the ground. “Buck? Oh my god.” Quickly pushing yourself off of him, you started pacing the gym floor. “Fucking shit. I am so sorry Bucky. I-I didn’t mean to do it. Are you ok? I didn’t hurt you, did I?” You kept rambling and pacing until Bucky stopped you, stepping in front of you to stop you from wearing a hole in the floor.

“I am fine, кукла. Are you ok? Your hands are bleeding.” Looking down, you saw the streaks of red coming out from under the tape on your hands. “Let’s go get you fixed up, ok?” Nodding, you followed Bucky out of the gym and towards the medical center. “So, what’s got you going at 4 in the morning anyway?”

“I couldn’t sleep. No matter what I tried. I even tried that tea Wanda suggested. By the way, don’t drink it. It tastes like dirt.” Bucky chuckled as you sat on a gurney, grabbing supplies from the cabinets. “What are you doing? Shouldn’t we wait for, you know, a doctor, or an actual medical professional to come in and do this,” you immediately questioned him.

“Do you seriously doubt my suturing skills? I did serve in World War II, so I’m pretty confident that I know my way around a needle and thread,” he said, carefully unraveling the useless tape from around your knuckles, taking a look at the damage. “Yeah, this’ll probably take a little bit, but don’t you worry, Dr. Barnes is always here to help.” Bucky smiled at you, calming your nerves the tiniest bit.

After prepping and numbing you properly, Bucky began stitching your open wounds shut. “So, do you wanna talk about why you couldn’t fall asleep? Talking might help, at least it usually does for me,” Bucky asked, not taking his eyes off his work in progress.

“I, uh, I keep having nightmares. They went away for a bit, when I could actually sleep for the night, but for some reason, they’ve come back,” you admitted quietly, almost like it was a dirty little secret.

“Well, you’ve only been here a few months so I wouldn’t expect your nightmares to just instantly go away. It took me a few years to actually get a good night's sleep with them waking me or anybody else up. So I know exactly how you feel,” he said, finishing up before wrapping your hands in sterile dressings. “And you are all set. Now, no excessive force, which includes going to the gym at 4 in the morning and working out like you are about to fight the Hulk.” You laughed lightly, shoulders loosening up.

“Why are you being so nice to me? I mean, you just stitched up my hands cause I got too into my own brain after I almost choked you when you could’ve just dropped me here and gone back to bed.” Tears filled your eyes once more, a thickening feeling surrounding your concerns.

Bucky sighed, gingerly sitting next to you on the gurney. “When I found you at the base, I knew it wasn’t going to be an easy ride for you. Or for anyone here really. Adding another member to the team can sometimes jostle things around. And I knew for a fact that you would feel like an outcast amongst some of the biggest heroes the world has ever seen...so far,” he said as you laid your head against his arm, wiping away the tears that had made their way down your face. “And I thought maybe, just maybe, if we became friends or even just acquaintances, that you wouldn’t feel so alone here. Cause I know exactly how that feels. And ever since coming here, I can see what I looked like when I was found; lost, felt like I didn’t deserve anything good or even deserving of love. But even though you hide it with a sort of tough exterior and you’re used to being trapped away, I can tell you something about yourself that you probably don’t even know,” Bucky said in a matter-of-fact voice.

“Oh yeah? What would that be,” you asked, quite curious as to what he may have found out.

“You want what everyone wants. You want a love that consumes you. You want passion, and adventure, and maybe even a little danger. Cause that’s exactly how I feel right now.” At some point, of which you weren’t sure, Bucky had hooked his fingers under your chin, turning your face up to meet his. Your eyes finally met his, capturing the look of a pure and innocent love in his icy stare. He slowly leaned down, but stopping right before your lips collided. “Is this ok?” Quickly nodding, Bucky pressed his lips to your own, cupping your face as your injured hands made their way to his sides.

Pulling back, Bucky rested his forehead against yours. “Never thought that this is how we would have our first kiss, doll,” he said, making you laugh which in turn caused him to chuckle. “But, I’m not at all opposed to it.”

“I’m glad. Now let’s get out of here. I’m tired.”

-----------------------------

1. У тебя все нормально? Я ведь не бил тебя дверью - Are you ok? I didn’t hit you with the door, did I?

2. Меня зовут Баки. Что у тебя? - My name is Bucky. What’s yours?

3. Это хорошо. Как давно ты здесь? - That’s ok. How long have you been here?

4. двадцать три года - 23 years.

5. Хорошо. Стив дал мне добро, чтобы мы могли убираться отсюда. - Ok. Steve gave me the go ahead so we can get out of here.

6. Ты ведь не сделаешь мне больно, верно? О-или убить меня? - You aren’t going to hurt me right? O-or kill me?

7. Конечно, нет. Я вытащу тебя отсюда. - Of course not. I’m going to get you out of here.

8. Кукла - Doll

If you see this on another blog, @multifandomwhre , that is my first blog where I submitted it to @sweeterthanthis “Quote Me” challenge. 

[multifandomwhre]

Loves Harsh Reality

Summary: Life is a bitch. 

Pairing(s): Bucky Barnes x Reader, Avengers x Reader (all platonic)

Warnings: swearing, mention of past/current abuse

Prompt: “You want what everyone wants. You want a love that consumes you. You want passion, and adventure, and maybe even a little danger.” 

Word Count: 1780

Do not copy, translate, or post any of my stories anywhere you write stories, whether that’s here, Wattpad, or Ao3. 

-----------------------------

Life never treated you well. Not even when you were just an innocent child, trying to navigate your way in this terrible world. You were forced into a cold and unloving organization that was run by people who don’t really give a shit that you were only 2 when they stole you. They never treated you like a human, more like a laboratory experiment, which kind of went haywire. When you were brought in, the sleaze running this entire operation stripped you of everything you had so far, which was only a name you had just barely begun to learn, and they assigned you a number, much like a court case; experiment 973. And that’s what you went by for the next 23 years of your life.

The day you were rescued from that deranged and psychotic place was...hectic to say the least. It began like any other day while you were their little pet; get woken up at the ass crack of you don’t know when, test out your powers until you physically passed out and then get ungracefully woken again only to be forced to use your powers. This continues for hours on end before these assholes make you go fight actual people in hopes that you aren’t lacking in physical strength. You fight until bodies start piling up and when your sadistic handlers are satisfied with your progress, as if you haven’t they haven’t been training you to take down monsters bigger than Goliath himself. But something wasn’t right and you could feel it in the enclosed space of your cell. 

While you normally had a rough awakening by someone poking, prodding, and eventually yanking you out of bed, nobody was there. In fact, there wasn’t even a peep from the cells neighboring yours. That was until you heard multiple gunshots and multiple bodies slumping against the floor. See, the thing about HYDRA is that they’ve trained you for this exact moment but every single ounce of training they’ve ingrained in your body and mind left the building completely as you hunkered down against the wall furthest from the thick, metal door barricading you from the outside world. 

Suddenly, the door you were just measly standing behind came crashing down, dust from the unwashed floor rising. After the dust settled, you looked up to see the poster boy of HYDRA himself, the Winter Soldier. “Steve, I’ve got a live one here. Female, looks to be in her mid-20s,” he whispered into his ear piece. He slowly moved closer, putting his weapon away as he noticed your frail body shaking from fear. “У тебя все нормально? Я ведь не бил тебя дверью?*” Shaking your head, the soldier stopped in front of you, kneeling next to you. “Меня зовут Баки. Что у тебя?” Shrugging your shoulders, you made an attempt to look over at him. “That’s ok. How long have you been here?”

“двадцать три года*,” you said, a bit of hesitation in your voice, finding it hard to speak after decades of being punished if you spoke out of turn. As you finished speaking, you heard another voice, one which you assumed belonged to this Steve person. 

“Хорошо. Стив дал мне добро, чтобы мы могли убираться отсюда,” Bucky said, standing back up on his feet. But you weren’t too sure about this. Along with your training, your handlers had pushed on you the notion that the Avengers, and anyone associated with them, were out to harm you, always, and that’s why you needed to be able to defend yourself. 

“Ты ведь не сделаешь мне больно, верно? О-или убить меня,” you asked, clear hesitation towards the soldier who was about to grant you freedom from this hellhole. 

Bucky looked at you with sympathy drawn over his features. Shaking his head, he gently grabbed your hands, a shiver traveling up your spine at the coolness from the vibranium arm. “Конечно, нет. Я вытащу тебя отсюда.”

-TIME SKIP-

It had been a few months since the Avengers had rescued you from HYDRA and you were beyond grateful that Bucky had stumbled upon you that day. But the fear that HYDRA had instilled in you about being near the Avengers was still running rampant in your system. Whenever someone knocked on your door, or came up behind you, your fight or flight instincts kicked in like that of an animal in the wild. You thought it’d be better by now, considering you have been going to therapy since coming to the compound. But today, all your frustrations came to a head.

You probably should’ve been in bed considering it was 4 in the morning but you needed to burn off some steam. What you failed to realize was that a certain super soldier was sitting in one of the boxes above the training center, watching your every move. But, him being a super soldier meant that he could pick up on more than you realized. Bucky had noticed that blood dripping onto the floor, which came from your terribly wrapped hands. 

He knew you were on edge, but not like you were when he first got you out. By the time that you realized Bucky was in your presence, it was a bit too late. You felt a hand on your shoulder; two seconds later you had the body attached to the arm on the floor, your other arm extending towards their throat, keeping them pinned to the floor. 

Once the haze cleared, you could tell who it was that you had down on the ground. “Buck? Oh my god.” Quickly pushing yourself off of him, you started pacing the gym floor. “Fucking shit. I am so sorry Bucky. I-I didn’t mean to do it. Are you ok? I didn’t hurt you, did I?” You kept rambling and pacing until Bucky stopped you, stepping in front of you to stop you from wearing a hole in the floor. 

“I am fine, кукла. Are you ok? Your hands are bleeding.” Looking down, you saw the streaks of red coming out from under the tape on your hands. “Let’s go get you fixed up, ok?” Nodding, you followed Bucky out of the gym and towards the medical center. “So, what’s got you going at 4 in the morning anyway?”

“I couldn’t sleep. No matter what I tried. I even tried that tea Wanda suggested. By the way, don’t drink it. It tastes like dirt.” Bucky chuckled as you sat on a gurney, grabbing supplies from the cabinets. “What are you doing? Shouldn’t we wait for, you know, a doctor, or an actual medical professional to come in and do this,” you immediately questioned him.

“Do you seriously doubt my suturing skills? I did serve in World War II, so I’m pretty confident that I know my way around a needle and thread,” he said, carefully unraveling the useless tape from around your knuckles, taking a look at the damage. “Yeah, this’ll probably take a little bit, but don’t you worry, Dr. Barnes is always here to help.” Bucky smiled at you, calming your nerves the tiniest bit. 

After prepping and numbing you properly, Bucky began stitching your open wounds shut. “So, do you wanna talk about why you couldn’t fall asleep? Talking might help, at least it usually does for me,” Bucky asked, not taking his eyes off his work in progress.

“I, uh, I keep having nightmares. They went away for a bit, when I could actually sleep for the night, but for some reason, they’ve come back,” you admitted quietly, almost like it was a dirty little secret. 

“Well, you’ve only been here a few months so I wouldn’t expect your nightmares to just instantly go away. It took me a few years to actually get a good night's sleep with them waking me or anybody else up. So I know exactly how you feel,” he said, finishing up before wrapping your hands in sterile dressings. “And you are all set. Now, no excessive force, which includes going to the gym at 4 in the morning and working out like you are about to fight the Hulk.” You laughed lightly, shoulders loosening up.

“Why are you being so nice to me? I mean, you just stitched up my hands cause I got too into my own brain after I almost choked you when you could’ve just dropped me here and gone back to bed.” Tears filled your eyes once more, a thickening feeling surrounding your concerns. 

Bucky sighed, gingerly sitting next to you on the gurney. “When I found you at the base, I knew it wasn’t going to be an easy ride for you. Or for anyone here really. Adding another member to the team can sometimes jostle things around. And I knew for a fact that you would feel like an outcast amongst some of the biggest heroes the world has ever seen...so far,” he said as you laid your head against his arm, wiping away the tears that had made their way down your face. “And I thought maybe, just maybe, if we became friends or even just acquaintances, that you wouldn’t feel so alone here. Cause I know exactly how that feels. And ever since coming here, I can see what I looked like when I was found; lost, felt like I didn’t deserve anything good or even deserving of love. But even though you hide it with a sort of tough exterior and you’re used to being trapped away, I can tell you something about yourself that you probably don’t even know,” Bucky said in a matter-of-fact voice.

“Oh yeah? What would that be,” you asked, quite curious as to what he may have found out.

“You want what everyone wants. You want a love that consumes you. You want passion, and adventure, and maybe even a little danger. Cause that’s exactly how I feel right now.” At some point, of which you weren’t sure, Bucky had hooked his fingers under your chin, turning your face up to meet his. Your eyes finally met his, capturing the look of a pure and innocent love in his icy stare. He slowly leaned down, but stopping right before your lips collided. “Is this ok?” Quickly nodding, Bucky pressed his lips to your own, cupping your face as your injured hands made their way to his sides. 

Pulling back, Bucky rested his forehead against yours. “Never thought that this is how we would have our first kiss, doll,” he said, making you laugh which in turn caused him to chuckle. “But, I’m not at all opposed to it.”

“I’m glad. Now let’s get out of here. I’m tired.” 

-----------------------------

1. У тебя все нормально? Я ведь не бил тебя дверью - Are you ok? I didn’t hit you with the door, did I?

2. Меня зовут Баки. Что у тебя? - My name is Bucky. What’s yours?

3. Это хорошо. Как давно ты здесь? - That’s ok. How long have you been here?

4. двадцать три года - 23 years. 

5. Хорошо. Стив дал мне добро, чтобы мы могли убираться отсюда. - Ok. Steve gave me the go ahead so we can get out of here. 

6. Ты ведь не сделаешь мне больно, верно? О-или убить меня? - You aren’t going to hurt me right? O-or kill me?

7. Конечно, нет. Я вытащу тебя отсюда. - Of course not. I’m going to get you out of here.

8. Кукла - Doll

I will also be posting this on my other blog, @imaginesmcu. This is a very, very late submission to @sweeterthanthis ‘s “Quote Me” challenge. 

[molluskwritesfic]

Where the Roses Grow: Chapter Two

The compound on Arvala-7 didn’t house one bounty, but two. Elsi Nokk is an enslaved nanny with more than a few tricks up her sleeve. She’ll do anything to protect her charge, even if it means standing against - and then with - a certain Mandalorian. Rated M.

This story can also be found on fanfiction.net and Ao3.

@killtherandomness​

CHAPTER WARNINGS: Mild violence, strongly implied child abuse, slavery and associated themes.

Chapter One - This Chapter  - Next Chapter

Chapter Two

It was hot.

The walk hadn't started out horribly. Despite her trepidation, she was still able to appreciate a change in scenery after being penned up in the compound for so long. Thankfully, they'd only been in direct sunlight for about a half hour. After that, they walked in the shade offered by the maze of shallow canyons that stretched out around the compound in every direction.

The baby was having the time of his life. He perched in his bassinet, happy as a clam as he watched lizards skitter in and out of cracks. Life in the compound had been boring for Elsi, but it had been even more frustrating for him. Elsi had done everything in her power to keep him entertained and happy, but a child needed more than his nanny to play with while locked in the same building for so long.

There had been so many games of hide-and-seek.

To him, the change in scenery was magical. He would communicate this to his caretaker, who would humor him by nodding and forcing a smile. He also tried talking to his new friend - the Mandalorian - who ignored him entirely.

Elsi, mindful of annoying a new master - even if it was only a temporary arrangement - had to repeatedly reinforce their little 'be quiet' signal. Each time she held her finger over her lips, the baby would dutifully copy the motion and fall silent, only to forget a minute or so later and go back to chittering for attention.

Not that she blamed him. Their joint existence had been a lonely one.

. ~0~0~0~

Elsi didn't dawdle.

'Daddy's special quests', as Hetta so eloquently put it, was a not-so-discreet euphemism for 'Underworld Contacts'. Like almost every nobleman that managed to cling to power through the rise of the Empire, Lord Burkisn made deals - most under the table, some not - with Imperial officials and dealers. Elsi didn't hold it against him; he was a politician, and that's what politicians did. But now that the Empire had fallen, Lord Burkisn was scrambling to appease the New Republic while still managing old promises.

Although the Empire was technically gone, the power and influence of the Imperial Underworld remained. When an Empire Remnant called in a favor, you did your best to accommodate.

Elsi's soft shoes were soundless on the shiny tile floors as she bustled through the ornate halls, keeping to the walls in order to avoid other servants and the odd protocol droid that bumbled past.

Lord Burkisn had a wide range of servants in his household - approximately a third of them were slaves. Droids could do a slave's work, but weren't nearly as fashionable. House slaves were much harder to replace; you couldn't program them or fix them when they broke. They had to be taught. Fed. Like most pets: a potentially expensive long term investment.

She bypassed the main study - where New Republic representatives were often hosted - and down a set of stairs into the lower levels of the house. Lord Burkisn's private study was well-cushioned and unassuming, but Elsi couldn't help but feel the very air had been tainted by the people that had been hosted there over the years.

If you thought there was nothing worse than a nobleman that both owned slaves and had the gall to manipulate the New Republic system into letting him keep them - you'd be very wrong.

The prospect of a baby was troubling. Why would Underworld entities have a baby in the first place? Let alone a sick baby? Even then, why the hell were they bringing it to HER? Surely they had deep enough pockets to buy their own doctors and nannies to care for it.

She reached the polished oak door and took a moment to straighten out her cotton dress, ensuring she was prim and every hair was in its proper place. This gave her a moment to eavesdrop.

The conversation came in bits and pieces, muddled by the door.

"... Hays Minor. They won't…"

"...sold… from spice dealers on… delivery."

"We couldn't take it to… when it's…"

Lord Burkisn's voice rose above the others, shrill and irritated. "Where the hell is that damn nanny? I paid twelve thousand credits for that overpriced whore…"

Elsi grimaced, realizing that she'd already pushed her luck too far, and knocked.

"Enter!"

Elsi eased her way into the room, head down with her eyes politely on her toes, hands folded chastely in front of her.

"About fucking time," he swore at her, which wasn't out of the ordinary. However, it WAS uncharacteristic of him to do so in front of business associates. Lord Harl Burkisn was tall and on the back side of middle aged with charmingly light blue eyes, chestnut hair streaked with grey at the temples, and impeccable jawline; handsome, really. He took great pride in his appearance. His usual suave, put-togetherness was a huge part of his professional image. "What took so long?"

Elsi lowered her head further in the perfect imitation of shame. "I came as soon as I was told, sir."

He growled under his breath, "Hetta…"

Elsi did nothing to confirm or deny the inference.

Thankfully, Burkisn moved on. He flicked his fingers to summon her closer. She obeyed without question.

Though her eyes were down, she quickly surveyed the room through her eyelashes. Her master was accompanied by two other men, a human and a twi'lek. They were reasonably well-put together, but their dark, closefitting clothes suggested mercenaries, not anyone high-ranking. They were all looming around Lord Burkisn's desk, upon which sat a large metal storage container.

Lord Burkisn led her to it and gestured for her to peer inside.

When Hetta had said that there was a baby, Elsi had assumed that it would be the child of another nobleman - perhaps a bastard that they didn't want their spouse to know about and were secreting away to live somewhere else.

She couldn't have been more wrong. Or confused.

It was a child, alright. A tiny green baby with massive bat ears held flat against a dirty brown sack of an overcoat. It was short, squat, and unlike anything Elsi had seen before.

The little creature was beyond pitiful; curled up in on itself like it was trying it's hardest to be swallowed up in the dirty sack that it wore, which was already much too big for it. It sat with its back to it's audience, pressing the front of its tiny green body into one corner of the box like it desperately wanted to hide.

It was awfully, awfully still.

Elsi's heart broke for it. She looked to her master for instructions.

Lord Burkisn seemed troubled. "Can you care for it?"

Elsi didn't like making promises. "I've cared for many children."

He scoffed and dragged a hand through his hair, making it stick out in every direction. "Yes. Yes. But this one?"

"I don't see why not. But…" She hesitated. "Is it alive?"

Burkisn whipped back around to study the child more closely. His eyes glittered nervously as his less practiced gaze caught what Elsi had seen at once: the unnatural stillness, how quiet it was. Children weren't supposed to act like that.

He turned and fixed the two couriers with a glare.

"Err…" The twi'lek shuffled nervously, very much out of his comfort zone. "Should be…"

"When did you last check?"

"This mornin'," the human said defensively. "It's been sluggish since we got it, but it hasn't done much since midweek. It just sits and stares."

"What changed then?"

"Nothin'! We kept in the landspeeder, just like always - "

"On Hays Minor? It's freezing there! And you just left it in the speeder?" Burkisn accused, dark eyes thunderous with disgust. "This precious, EXPENSIVE asset? And you've treated it so carelessly? Can you even BEGIN to understand what they'll do to m… to YOU… if it perishes? Do you change it? When's the last time it had anything to eat? Have you bathed it recently?"

Rich, coming from a man that hadn't done any of those things for a child in his life. Elsi wasn't fooled by the righteous tirade. It had nothing to do with the baby's welfare.

"Is it alive or not?" He went on to demand. He was worried. While coming to the 'rescue' of something valuable could be beneficial, having the asset die while under his roof would be very, very bad indeed.

The courier closest to the crate reached out a gloved hand and gave the box a sharp shake. Elsi was no stranger to cruelty; her expression didn't change.

The baby gave a barely audible squeak as it was loosened from its makeshift safe spot. Other than that, it's only response was to weakly shift to press its face back into its corner.

"See?" The twi'lek said triumphantly. "It's alive."

The poor thing was half frozen. Lonely and terrified. No wonder it was sick.

Elsi grit her teeth, anxious to be rid of the other adults so she could take over.

"If it's sick, shouldn't we take it to a medical facility?" The human courier piped up. His eyes ghosted over Elsi's form appraisingly. "No offense, but why're we just giving it to a house slave?"

Burkisn sniffed. "You've lost the right to make those decisions. And do you think I'd let my daughter, my own flesh and blood, be cared for by any less than the best?" He prodded Elsi roughly in the shoulder. "Your credentials."

Elsi's collar felt tighter than usual. It was the same practiced spiel she'd given to potential buyers since she was twelve, and she delivered it with less emotion than a droid. "Educated by the Flirkgen Order of Servitude, First Class. I am trained in all forms of childcare from birth to adulthood, including, but not limited to: childbirth, nursing, emergency first aid, education, and nutrition. To date, I have cared for…"

Burkisn silenced her with a wave of his hand. "You see? We can't risk calling for a doctor, anyhow. The asset doesn't exactly blend in, does it? And if they found out it…"

He cut himself off. Elsi didn't bother wondering who 'they' were.

"Can you care for it?" Burkisn repeated. "Nurse it back to health?"

"I'm not a doctor, master," Elsi said warily. She wouldn't know the full extent until she'd had a chance to look it over properly, but the poor creature already seemed half dead to her. "But I will certainly do my best."

"Good. It's settled." He clapped his hands with an air of finality. "You'll make it your top priority. All of your other duties are suspended till further notice."

That was fine by her, so long as she didn't have to be the one to tell Hetta. The child did NOT like sharing anything, especially the slaves that were at her beck and call. There were other childminder's in the household that were more than qualified to care for the master's child, but none of them were Elsi.

Elsi bowed deep. "Yes, master."

We waved her away. "Take it, then. I'll inquire later as to your progress."

With a final curtsy, Elsi bustled forward and picked up the crate, closing the lid in hopes of making the little creature feel a little safer. The metal was icy cold against her skin. Without a moment to spare, she hurried out of the room.

~0~0~0~ .

Elsi was exhausted.

The skin under her collar still burned, the already tender skin actively being rubbed raw by the collar every time she moved her head. Every muscle in her body threatened to give out at a moment's notice. She moved in constant fear that the next step would be the one to send her sprawling to the ground.

She wasn't sure she wanted to suffer that brand of embarrassment today. Not that she had much pride left after a lifetime of humiliation and servitude, but she already had enough to worry over.

She stumbled a few times, but didn't fall. She kept walking.

After several hours, their pace had begun to slow. With every step, a little of the strength she'd pretended to have was leached away. It took everything she had to put one foot in front of the other.

The Mandalorian didn't comment, but Elsi noticed how the brisk, utilitarian pace he'd originally set had dwindled to something that was clearly designed to accommodate her. She appreciated, yet hated it.

Being thought of as weak was usually a good thing. But it wasn't in this case because it was the truth. Being underestimated gave her an edge, one that - staring at the tattered, dirty cloak of the silent wall of armor that stalked silently ahead of her - she wished she still had.

The baby finally settled down, tired from the day. He sat in his bassinet, nibbling his cloth frog and peering out at the changing scenery. His dark eyes flickered as he sought out the lizards that occasionally darted across their path.

Elsi knew he must be getting hungry. She was, too. Their last shared meal had been that morning, and it was well into late afternoon now. Elsi was used to functioning on very little; years of being fed the bare minimum had taught her to ignore the empty gnawing in her gut.

She didn't want the baby to have to learn the same way she did, but had a feeling that the Mandalorian wanted to get somewhere specific before nightfall. The canyons weren't exactly the best place to spend the night. Too many places for an enemy to hide.

She would wait until then before asking for a brief respite to feed her charge.

As if to confirm her suspicions about the canyons, the Mandalorian suddenly came to a halt. He lifted a gloved hand, cautioning Elsi to do the same. It was unnecessary, of course, because she'd heard it as well.

A near-silent footstep. The soft clink of a rock being kicked out of place and knocking into another. A quick, panted breath.

Then silence.

Elsi cast a warning glance at the baby, who didn't need to be directly told to stay silent. The adults' sudden tension was more than enough. He gripped his frog tighter.

Elsi watched the Mandalorian closely, taking note of the tension in his shoulders, waiting for some kind of signal.

She saw the Mandalorian's hand ghost over his blaster.

When the first bounty hunter exploded out of the shadows, Elsi was already on the move. While the Mandalorian met the threat, both of them, head on, Elsi made a beeline for the bassinet.

Sand flew as the sound of battle echoed throughout the narrow canyon. The baby whined when she scooped him into her arms. She hushed him, giving him a little reassuring bounce before slinking away from the conflict.

The baby cried out, distraught. He'd tried to take his frog with him, but dropped it. Elsi cast a glance backward to see it lying prone in the sand, only a few meters away from where the bounty hunters fought.

She went on, melting into the shadows and through a passage in the canyon walls. Worst case, she could make him another.

Elsi turned twice down different paths before deciding they'd gone far enough. She leaned her back against the stone, tucking them away in a dip in the rock face. The sounds of the fight had faded, leaving the pair washed in a heavy silence. Elsi struggled to quiet her breathing, which rasped loudly in her throat as she fought to catch her breath.

The baby buried his face against her chest and grumbled.

"Froggy's fine," she sighed, tipping her head back against the rock and closing her eyes. "We'll get him in a minute."

From what she'd seen, the Mandalorian had been holding his own fairly well, so hopefully they'd be able to go back to the bassinet in a few minutes. Not that she wanted to go with the faceless hunter, but for now she preferred him to the others. At least she was almost certain that he didn't have any immediate plans for killing her or the baby.

Also, he had her fob. She couldn't go very far without it.

Suddenly, the Mandalorian was there. He appeared without warning, scaring the shit out of Elsi - though she'd never show it.

He was more or less unscathed except for a gash in his upper arm. It looked nasty, but he seemed unbothered.

His helmet ticked forward minutely. "You good?"

Elsi's response was collected and emotionless. "Yes."

The child chirruped to say that he was fine, too, thanks for asking.

The Mandalorian cocked his head slightly, then held something out to him. The baby's ears perked forward when he recognized the beloved patchwork frog sitting in the warrior's hand. He gave a squeal of delight and all but threw himself out of Elsi's arms to get it.

Elsi almost dropped him, but was able to adjust fast enough to prevent him from falling. With a weary sigh, she moved to place the baby back in his bassinet, which still floated obediently at the Mandalorian's elbow.

The baby hummed happily and snuggled down in his blankets, squishing Froggy against his cheek.

Elsi's quick eyes went back to the gash on the Mandalorian's arm, then lowered submissively, fixing on the diamond shaped indent on his cuirass. "Your injury looks painful. I can dress it, if it pleases you."

His shoulders settled back; in surprise, Elsi thought.

"It's fine," he rasped. "We need to keep moving."

Elsi didn't argue.

. ~0~0~0~

Despite the awkwardness of the box, Elsi took the steps of the narrow servants' staircase two at a time, doing her best not to jostle the baby.

She winced and murmured an apology when she accidentally bumped it against a wall as she turned a corner, feeling the occupant slide from one corner to another.

Elsi bumped the door to her room open with her hip, and then closed it with her foot. As the head child-minder of a prestigious household, she had been granted her own quarters. She was still a slave, so it wasn't much: a small bed, a fireplace, a couple of chairs, a minuscule refresher, and a table that was covered with her current sewing projects.

She swept the half-finished articles of clothing off the table without a second thought, no longer caring if they got trampled and dirty, then sat the crate gingerly in their place.

Finally alone, Elsi flipped open the lid. Now she was closer, she caught a whiff of what could only have been the child; an unpleasant mix of bodily waste and mildew.

A distraught sigh hissed between her teeth. Elsi cautiously moved to pick up the baby.

The baby seemed to know she was coming and pressed itself more firmly into the corner. She crouched beside the table so that she was level with the box, reaching out tentatively towards the cowering child to smooth the fuzz on the back of its head.

The baby squeaked weakly, somehow succeeding in making itself look smaller. Elsi recoiled. Time was at the essence, but the last thing it needed was to be frightened even more.

"It's okay," Elsi hummed in her most reassuring voice, the same tried-and-true one used to soothe nightmares. She settled back just enough to kneel in the chair and rested her forearms on the edge of the crate.

The baby whined.

"Hey, hey. Shhh," she murmured, reaching out again and brushing her knuckles gently down the baby's spine. It quivered. She repeated the motion, "It's okay. You're okay. Shh."

The baby gave a plaintive squeak that was muffled by the side of the crate.

"Yeah, I know you're cold," she crooned. "Will you let me warm you up?"

The baby didn't comment, but it did turn its head, daring to peer at her with dark, watery eyes. Elsi noted the crusty discharge that had dried at the corners. Then the dampness of its nose.

"Can I hold you?" She asked, holding out her hands to it expectantly.

The baby squeezed its eyes shut.

Elsi figured that it was the closest thing to permission she was going to get. She gingerly wrapped her fingers around the baby's middle and lifted. He weighed next to nothing; she could wrap her hands all the way around him. She immediately transferred him to her chest, tucking his fuzzy head under her chin. Tiny claws curled into the fabric covering her collarbones.

Holding him in place with one hand, she bustled around the room, humming softly for the baby's sake as she unearthed cloth diapers, towels, and wash rags.

She took the supplies to the refresher, where she spread out one of the towels on the counter next to the sink, which she then filled partway with warm water. The child was far too small to consider using the tub.

Careful to cradle his head, Elsi eased the baby down on the counter. His sallow green skin stood out starkly against the fluffy white towel. The child stared up at her blankly through half-closed eyes.

"We're gonna get you clean, m'kay? The water's nice and warm for you. Then maybe you'll feel a little better. That sound good?" She explained to him kindly, but he only blinked in response.

The baby was heartbreakingly easy to manipulate out of his clothes, making her suspect that he was used to being handled roughly. She made a point to be as gentle as possible.

"Do you like bubbles?"

Before his bath, Elsi wiped him down and checked for injuries. He didn't react much to the water, leaning heavily into the hand that was keeping him propped up while she smoothed his skin with the gentlest soap she had and ran a kitten-soft washcloth over his ears.

After, she wrapped him in a small clean blanket instead of redressing him. His tiny robes would need to be cleaned before she would even consider putting them on him again, and even then, they were past use.

She would make him others, but that would take some time.

She laid him against her chest, lifting one of his little three-fingered hands to her lips to press a kiss to his knuckles. Elsi toed off her shoes and settled down on her bed. The baby snuffled a little, but otherwise stayed quiet as she tugged the other blanket over top of them both.

He felt much warmer now, at least. Elsi nuzzled the top of his head, breathing in the gentle smell of flowers from the soap. The baby mumbled softly before blinking his eyes closed.

It didn't take long for him to fall asleep. Elsi rubbed her hand up and down his back. Pressed kisses to the top of his head. Stoked his ears. Hummed a lullaby. Then another.

It seemed that he had given up, but children could be dazzlingly resilient. As awful as he seemed now, he could be up and playing in a day or two. She'd seen it before. Hopefully, a little love and attention would be enough to breathe a little life back into the poor little runt.

She wasn't optimistic, but that wouldn't stop her from trying.

~0~0~0~ .

The trio walked well into the evening, not stopping until the canyons were far behind them and they were surrounded by nothing but flat, rocky plains.

Elsi saw the logic. Out here, nothing could sneak up on them. The Mandalorian would see or hear anything a long time before it became an active threat.

Though she appreciated the strategic value of the decision, she loathed the bounty hunter for forcing them to travel so far before resting.

The last of the sun's rays were fading below the horizon, painting the desert in a myriad of lovely violet hues. The Mandalorian chose a flat-ish expanse of rock to kneel down, producing a collapsible lantern. He set it down at the center of the space and turned it on, casting them all in an orange glow.

"We'll camp here tonight."

Music to Elsi's ears. She all but collapsed to the ground, disguising her exhaustion as productivity by immediately starting to dig through the russack bag. She found the water and two jerky ration packs that she and the baby would share. She uncorked the water and drank, nursing it to make it last.

"Muu?"

The last few hours had them walking directly into the setting sun, prompting Elsi to close the bassinet shutters so as to offer the baby some shade. He'd been quiet for the most part, but now that they'd stopped moving, he seemed to have enough reason to draw attention to the fact that he still was still secluded.

"Muuuu?" Muu? A soft, drawn-out squeaky sound, always turned up at the end like a question. It was the baby's name for his caretaker. It was cute, really. So much better than Nan.

Elsi forced herself back to her feet, ignoring the screaming of her aching muscles in favor of retrieving the baby. When the shutters peeled away, he rewarded Elsi with a wide, toothy grin.

Mood slightly improved, she got him out, but also tugged the bassinet over to where she'd been sitting: away from the Mandalorian.

The baby trilled conversationally at the bounty hunter, who continued ignoring him. In the time it had taken Elsi to get the baby and sit back down, the Mandalorian had removed his cuirass and sat prodding at its inner workings with a tool from his belt.

The baby was entranced by the occasional shower of sparks tossed into the air as the Mandalorian worked, but not so much that he was distracted from consuming every morsel of food Elsi placed in his greedy little hands.

She figured that she ought to hurry. While she was no expert on Mandalorians, she was vaguely aware of the limitations regarding the helmet. He hadn't been able to eat or drink all day, and while Elsi didn't really care much for his welfare, she knew she would if he became frustrated and decided to take it out on her. He could also die from heatstroke, which would essentially trap her and the baby in the middle of the desert.

Until a better option presented itself, he was their best bet.

Elsi didn't give two shits about seeing his face. She had better things to worry about than satisfying basic curiosity - especially curiosity that could end with him killing her out of rage. If he simply asked her to not look, she wouldn't. As her (temporary?) owner, he could also order her not to look, and she'd have no choice but to obey.

But she didn't think he would do either. The Mandalorian would probably wait until they'd both fallen asleep to remove his helmet; which was absolutely no problem for Elsi - she was already half-asleep sitting up. The baby was a little trickier. Elsi would have to make sure he was asleep before settling down herself.

Luckily, the baby hadn't slept much throughout the day. By the time he finished eating, he was snuggling into Elsi's shoulder, making the soft little grumbling noises he made when he was tired.

Elsi hummed to him, soft enough that only he could hear, rubbing his back in time with the melody. It was an old slave song, one she distantly remembered her mother singing for her when she was fussy and small.

The humming also kept the baby from hearing the sounds that the Mandalorian was making. Forgoing Elsi's offer to clean and dress the wound on his arm, he'd settled on cauterizing it with the same tool he was using to repair his armor.

It looked painful. She almost insisted that he stop and let her tend him, but then remembered that she didn't care.

Elsi tucked the sleeping baby in the bassinet, ensuring he was snuggly wrapped in his blankets and clutching his stuffed frog before she closed the shutters.

Confident that he would sleep through the night, Elsi lay down on the stony ground with the russack bag tucked under her head. Mindful to keep her back to the Mandalorian, she allowed her exhausted and abused body to finally rest.

~0~0~0~ .

[manesh]

Circumcision is a Hate Crime

Circumcision is a Hate Crime, and it has to stop

A plea to circumcised fathers who might circumcise their sons

Why circumcised men should have mercy on themselves and their sons

Dedicated to my grandfather, who listened when he was ignorant, and taught when he was knowledgeable.

Book Outline:

1. My temptation to commit retaliatory crimes of hate

2. Circumcised men, It’s ok to have some pity on yourself

3. Hope for restoring sexual function & comfort

4. Benefits of being uncircumcised / restored / uncut

5. My memory of circumcision

6. The Book of Michael Asad Manesh

7. Genital mutilation is the worst hate crime, worse than rape and murder

8. Nuance & Errata

9. My Final Plea to Circumcised Fathers

10. A Thank You to Fathers who Choose to Protect Children

11. Afterword & Acknowledgements

1. My temptation to commit retaliatory crimes of hate

I can state, unequivocally, I hate my birth parents. They were cruel and abusive towards me all of my life, starting in my earliest days when they removed a large piece of my penis, leaving me with permanent sexual dysfunction and decades of pain and suffering. Of all the abuses inflicted on me by my parents, the mutilation of my penis was the worst and most permanent. This permanent disfigurement of my penis is called “circumcision.”

I have spent many years wrestling with my own rage, with poor sex education, coping and communication skills to express it. Any pain I communicated about my penis, both to my parents and doctors, was laughed at, mocked, and rejected.

Once, when I pointed out painful callouses that had formed on the underside of my glans due to no protective foreskin, a female nurse practitioner lied and said “all men are like that” while laughing mockingly at me. What a bitch. I still think about cutting a piece of her clitoris off, sometimes - she is on my long list of people I often consider mutilating to make them understand my pain, who were supposed to heal me but only harmed me with their hurtful lies and complete disregard for my expressions of pain.

I was born in a hateful society that oozes contempt for males who have suffered permanent genital disfigurement at the hands of their own parents.

When I was a child, I spent many hours tugging on my penis, unsuccessfully trying to regrow the missing foreskin. I would endlessly try to prod the glans, the head of my penis, back into my body, because it always felt too exposed, cold, and irritated. My parents slapped, pinched, belted and screamed at me to make me stop trying to heal my penis with tugging, telling me I was the worst child who ever lived, a literal demon.

I did not consciously understand that I had been cruelly and wickedly mutilated due to my parents’ wishes until I was 30 - I was ignorant that there was such a thing as an uncircumcised male until then. I had been kept sexually dumb by my wicked mother and father, who fed me a constant and poisonous stream of lies and misinformation, and a wicked government, that censors all information about the harms of circumcision, and images of penises, both cut and uncut, from airing on TV.

I have l lived all my life with constant, low-level rage at my mistreatment, at the permanent disfigurement I have suffered.

I have endless rage at the government of the United States, its doctors that carried out the mutilation on me, and the legal system that protects parents from revenge mutilation, but allows them to cruelly mutilate their sons in an act of pure hate - a one way system where children have no protection or recourse. A system that in 2020 drove children to record highs of suicide. A system that doesn’t even recognize the right of boys to retaliate against those who mutilate their genitals.

Of all the offenses and crimes against children, I judge mutilation the most torturous, because it is a disfigurement that one carries for the rest of their life, even if they should escape the hell of their parents and the country from which the brutal practice is allowed.

But after years of considering shooting, bombing, or mutilating in morally justifiable revenge, I have been lucky to have had enough time, safety and space to come up with a better solution than retaliatory violence.

It is my goal to persuade every human on earth that circumcising an infant boy or child is a hate crime, and a sex crime.

I am starting with adult males like me, who are circumcised, and may be considering circumcising their sons.

I admit it is mostly my hate that drives me to do this, but I have channeled that hate into the primary goal of protecting children from mutilation, and I will do that by convincing every man circumcised as a child that what was done to him was a hate crime, and a sex crime.

Fathers, before you mutilate the penises of your sons as your penis was mutilated, read this book and allow me to convince you that you suffered grievous harm, and you should not pay that harm forward to your sons.

2. Circumcised men, It’s ok to have some pity on yourself

If you were circumcised without your input or consent: have some pity on yourself. You were helpless, and defenseless. The adults that were supposed to protect you let you down. They failed you.

It is truly sad what happened to you. Ask any man- where is he most sensitive? Where does he feel the most pleasure and pain? His penis. Your most fun, enjoyable part, with the most ability to give you sexual pleasure and orgasm - much of it was cut from you in an act of pure hate, meant to sexually disfigure you and render you unable to fully enjoy an erection, masturbation, and sex.

Most men in the world do not have their genitals mutilated by their parents; you are in the unlucky minority with cruel parents that wanted to cripple your ability to experience sexual pleasure.

This is absolutely horrific, the behavior a slavedriver inflicts on his property. You have not only suffered sexual dysfunction, but extreme psychological abuse from those who tell you your mutilation was for your benefit. You have been told endlessly that circumcision makes you “clean” and “prevents infection” and “it has no negative impact on sex”, and these lies make your suffering all the worse, because it was never acknowledged by the hateful sex criminals that cut you.

If you have suffered the injury of circumcision, and then pushed the pain and irritation out of conscious awareness and stopped mentioning it because even your parents and doctors mock you and call you a liar - that is a truly sad and lonely story. It breaks my heart that you could have so much suffering, so much pain, and no one to help you heal from it.

It is ok to say to yourself, “you know what? It was terrible what happened to me. I deserve a bit of sympathy and pity. My tribe, my parents and government, failed me. The permanent pain and disfigurement I have suffered was a truly wicked thing to inflict on me as an innocent child, and I didn’t deserve it.”

As a circumcised male, you deserve compassion.

It is my hope that once you learn to feel compassion for yourself and your own sexual wounds, you will learn to extend that compassion to your sons, and not repeat the act of sexually wounding them.

3. Hope for restoring sexual function & comfort

The foreskin can be restored through tugging - simply pulling hard on the skin of the penis near the head, and slowly stretching the skin out. Topical steroids may help. The process can take months or years.

It is a slow and slightly painful process, but the end result can be a penis that looks and feels much more like it would have if it was never cut in the first place, with better resting comfort, and better sexual/erect performance.

Tugging can be done manually, or with prosthetics (straps/weights that apply constant tugging).

4. Benefits of being uncircumcised / restored / uncut

When I saw an uncut penis for the first time, I was confused at first. But as I became sexually educated, I felt angrier and angrier about how some criminally insane people say circumcision is somehow “beneficial to males.”

A penis with a foreskin doesn’t hurt all the time. Once you restore yours with tugging, even partially, you will be more comfortable when non-erect. Covering the glans, especially the base of the glans, is a significant comfort improvement. For me personally, the first few millimeters regrown got rid of the callouses that used to form around the base of my glans, and most of the pain/tearing I would experience from erections, masturbation and sex.

A penis with a foreskin is better in every way for sex. Erections are not painful when there is enough skin to stretch. Significantly less lubrication is needed for sex because the foreskin adds just enough “give”. Masturbation can be performed painlessly without lubricant. Vaginal sex can be given with no or low lubricant, and will not rip or injure the vagina as a calloused, circumcised penis can - with no tearing, there should be less chance of infection. Anal sex, which many females enjoy, can also be more easily given with a whole and complete penis.

I have observed that women have a natural instinct to grab the excited penis, and gently pull downwards on it to reveal the glans. They do this regardless of whether the penis is circumcised or not. For a circumcised penis, this motion causes extreme pain. For a whole penis, this motion causes extreme pleasure.

It is no wonder to me that so many women in this society are frustrated with the sexual performance of circumcised men, because their natural, instinctive ways of sexually pleasing men instead hurt circumcised men.

Circumcision also reduces the size of the penis in an absolute sense. To have a mutilated penis is to not be able to compete in terms of penis size with an uncut man, who is otherwise similar in build. In a societal sense, this means that women with the biggest vaginas may never be able to find a penis that fits them properly, because all penises have been cut down to an unnaturally smaller size, which is tragic for those women. It also means circumcised men will need a smaller/younger mate than he naturally would for her vagina to fit & pleasure his smaller penis properly.

A man with a mutilated penis will also struggle at sports and battle due to increased discomfort and pain when running and have a weaker sex drive. He will have a difficult time competing with males who have a complete penis. He will lose more often at mating games as is more likely to have infrequent, unsatisfying sex. He is likely to avoid women entirely - this was my personal strategy to avoid discomfort for most of my life. He may be mislabeled as gay, asexual, or transgender, with no reference to his penis mutilation.

This is why I say circumcision is a sexual crime in addition to a hate crime. A parent that chooses to make sex acts hellacious by circumcising their child is guilty of sex crimes and hate crimes against their child for this reason.

It is obvious and clear to me now that the primary purpose of circumcision is to destroy a man’s ability to enjoy sex. Uncircumcised males have better sexual performance and pleasure, and females display more appreciation and comfort when having sex with uncut penises.

If you doubt this, you can easily do your own research by watching porn with an eye for circumcision, male performance and female pleasure. Circumcised men often display pain on their faces in pornography that is uncharacteristic of uncircumcised men; much porn tries to hide this by not displaying male faces.

5. My memory of circumcision

I have an extremely clear memory of my own circumcision, which I have suffered flashbacks to all my life.

Normally, local anesthetic is used for circumcisions in the US. Even so, I have an unusual genetic tolerance and require a triple dose to get a numbing effect, a fact I learned when I was 29 at an elective surgery.

I did not know this or have the ability to communicate it when I was an infant. I was bound to a cold table like a lump of meat, and what felt like half my penis was sawed off. It is the worst pain I have ever felt - words cannot even begin to describe it. I had constant nightmares about it for 36 years, almost my whole life. Any sensation on my penis could make me feel intense fear and a pinching, sawing sensation - a flashback to the procedure.

I am blessed in a way, because deep down, I have always known what was done to me was a cruelty. If you were unfortunate enough to be completely numb for the procedure, there is a possibility it would not make a strong, traumatic impression on you as it did me.

A child will explore and play with his body in the first few days of life. If he has a chance to see, feel and understand his foreskin, then even if numbed when it is removed, he will always know what he has lost. This is why hate criminals try to mutilate the genitals immediately after the child is born, so that he will not have a clear, visual and hand-tactile memory of what he has lost. Instead, he will have constant and seemingly inexplicable pain, a feeling of betrayal, and no chance to grieve for what he has lost. Only when one sees, admits and acknowledges what they have lost and grieves for it can they begin the process of psychological healing, which will free him from psychological enslavement to those who mutilated him and thus do not deserve his loyalty.

I used to be unconsciously triggered by fluorescent lights, the beeping of medical equipment, and doctors’ offices until I learned about circumcision and PTSD triggers, watched a video of a circumcision and understood that I was flashing back to my own.

I used to do any form of self-harm to try to avoid flashbacks to the experience of having half my dick sawed off - the slightest sensation or pressure on my oversensitive, exposed glans could cause me to go into a dissociative trance. So I would fracture my bones, pull out my hair, bite my fingernails until they bled, and twist my body into uncomfortable postures that would rip and strain muscles and leave them aching for hours. I would dive into workaholism, endlessly watch tv, play video games, overdose on drugs, masturbate excessively even though it hurt, or otherwise numb and dissociate myself out with distractions.

The pain of bloody, clipped-too-deep toenails was always better than a reminder of the pain of getting my dick sawed in half.

But now that I’ve been able to view my full memory, this is what I remember feeling in the moments after the intense, torturous pain of my penis being sawed off stopped and was replaced with a stinging & burning, lasting pain that wouldn’t go away:

WHY DO YOU HATE ME SO MUCH?

WHY WOULD YOU DO THAT TO ME?

IT HURTS SO BAD, OH GOD IT HURTS SO BAD, OH GOD IT HURTS SO BAD, OH GOD IT HURRRSSS SOOOO BAD...

PLEASE SAVE ME... PLEASE SAVE ME... PLEASE MAKE THE PAIN STOP... IT HURTS SO BAD... I WANT TO DIE

OH GOD IT HURTS SO MUCH... THIS IS HELL... THIS IS HELL.... THIS IS HELL...

I have never stopped thinking that my life is hell since, and even now while writing this book aged 36 with some but not all of my foreskin restored through tugging, I am still aware and annoyed by the feeling of my exposed glans, which feels cold and painful.

I no longer think that all life is hell, but my childhood, and my life, was a hell until I turned my back on humanity and found God.

6. The Book of Michael Asad Manesh

Consider this a book of a prophet, which should be added to all religious texts as the last testament and will of God.

I have listened to God, at length, and directly. I recognize no mortal as above me - I answer only to God.

The greatest sin there is, the sin that is worse than all others, is to mutilate your own child. If you choose to mutilate your children, you have failed your God-given morality test, and you will be cast into a hell of suffering that you will carry with you in your soul no matter how far you run.

God is a compassionate being, who wishes to teach us the lessons of morality as gently as possible. One cannot be given eternal life unless they have proven they will not misuse that power to create a hell of endless suffering for others.

To mutilate a child is to give him a body on earth that is a hell of suffering wherever he goes. He cannot outrun the disfigurement you have inflicted on him in your cruelty. You have created hell for him; you have failed God’s morality test. You have been given a conscience that knows what I speak is true, but have chosen not to use it.

God will not send an Angel to stop you from sin, because the Angel is within you, as near as the beating of your heart, if you but listen to its voice: your conscience.

If you refuse to repent of your sin of mutilating your child, or if you choose to mutilate another child knowing it goes against God’s will, as I have prophesied, then your existence will be a hell until you repent, because your own children will hate you, and inflict as much torture on you as possible, as you did to them. Even if you kill your children and hide in a cave, your conscience will torture you.

God is merciful, and will allow you to remain alive in hell for as long as you choose to show your children cruelty. If you wish to escape hell, you must choose to show your subordinates mercy and patience, as God has shown you and I mercy and patience.

This is the law of God: you will use the power you have been gifted with only to carry out the highest and best moral good: the protection and education of those in your care. If you refuse your responsibility, you will suffer the pains of hell.

God has a message for fathers: it is unquestionable that men have the strength, and therefore power, to protect children. Women do not have the same strength, and God does not judge women and men equally for this reason. Because men have more power, men have more responsibility in the eyes of God. Do not deny this obvious truth: You must protect a newborn when a woman is weak from birth!

I have written these truths not to punish you - but to explain to you exactly why your God-given conscience punishes you when you harm your children or allow them to come to harm through inaction.

There is a hierarchy of morality in the universe, and only those who have consciously chosen the highest and best moral path shall be gifted the alliance of God.

Thou shalt protect thy children is the highest and most important commandment of God.

There is one final thing I must say about God, as myself: when God was born, just like when a child is born on Earth, God was ignorant, and lonely. Creation of other-souls was an attempt to solve that terrible loneliness God felt as a singular consciousness in an endless, empty universe. Thus, the most divine of emotions is loneliness, it is to be one with God, it is the reason for creation, and that which brings us together and lets us compromise when necessary in spite of the pain of sharing power. It is our God-given loneliness that inspires us to make the world less lonely for each child that should follow. If you should follow your loneliness, you will inevitably arrive at LOVE, which is the combination of: RESPECT, EQUALITY, MERCY, COMPASSION.

7. Genital mutilation is the worst hate crime, worse than rape and murder

Circumcision has always been a crime of hate, used to punish one’s enemies. For a man to mutilate the penis of another man is to inflict the ultimate suffering on him. To inflict the ultimate suffering on an innocent child you were supposed to protect and nurture is the ultimate hate crime.

Rape is less of a crime than genital mutilation. In an absolute sense of which suffering is greater, those who have suffered from rape - a temporary loss of control and discomfort with their genitals - have suffered less those left with permanent discomfort from mutilation of their genitals. This is not to say that rape is a moral good, it is only to say mutilating genitals is worse than temporarily torturing them.

Murder is less of a crime than genital mutilation. A man who can no longer enjoy sex due to his mutilation lives a hellacious life, deprived of his greatest pleasure. I myself have often hoped for death, wishing to leave this broken body, but my conscience will not allow me to die until I speak for the children who cannot speak for themselves, who might still be saved from suffering needlessly as I have suffered. You do not need to mutilate a child to teach him not to mutilate others. The most force you will ever need to use with a child you properly respect to is a firm but gentle push and a word of advice; he will listen if he knows his body is protected by you.

If hatred of evil is your strongest trait, let this truth be your guide: Murderers and rapists are better souls than the scum that mutilate children at birth, never giving them a single chance to enjoy their whole and complete bodies. They are the worst of the worst, the most depraved and morally misguided souls on planet earth, the farthest it is possible to travel from God. Child mutilators deserve the lowest levels of hell, the worst prisons, and the harshest degree of shaming.

Do not be distracted by misdirections or minimizations about the harm done by child mutilation. Do not be distracted by friendly, bright-colored illustrations, when you know how painful it would be to have parts of your penis cut off, and how much you would miss those parts every day. Do not be fooled by those who say rapists and killers are worse.

Child mutilators are the worst people on planet earth, and some of the worst souls in all existence. They are guilty of hate crimes, and sex crimes. Child mutilators have sinned against God by using their power to torture and enslave children, rather than protect and educate them.

I encourage all souls on planet earth of any age to join me in the condemnation of the mutilation of children, including circumcision of both genders.

8. Nuance & Errata

I am not against adult circumcision for reasons of improving sexual performance & male pleasure. If your penis has too much skin, and you have had enough attempts at sex to know this for certain or other problems, you have my blessing to choose to cut off a small and specific amount you know will help you.

Anytime I say circumcision is a hate & sex crime, I am referring to the forced removal of parts a boy’s penis before reaching sexual maturity without his informed opinion being heard, not a procedure done by an informed and consenting, sexually active adult for his own benefit.

In a past life, I was an outspoken supporter of circumcision, a hateful liar that would say anything to justify mutilating children. For my sin, I have suffered the pains of hell, but my suffering for that sin is now over as I have learned my lesson and repented. If you leave God no other choice, it is my experience he will condemn you to the same torture you inflict on others.

I am not a strong man, nor am I particularly courageous. I have wept alone for many a night in pity for myself. I am still hurt, and still hurting. I didn’t want the responsibility of communicating the horror of circumcision to the world, but my conscience will drive me insane if I do not speak the truth on this matter, because I don’t see anyone else stepping forward to write what is necessary, and my opinions are extremely well-informed.

If you cannot remember or imagine circumcision pain, simply remember the worst pain of your life, your worst physical trauma. Your conscience knows that to carry out the infliction of such pain on an innocent child is a hate crime.

A long-term challenge for all circumcised males who carry rage about it is developing self-compassion. Start with yourself; love yourself. Give yourself compassion at all times. Do not condemn your anger; instead watch and understand the traumatic memory that is the source of the anger. The more self-compassion, patience and non-violence you can practice, the easier it will be to practice other-compassion. Start with self-compassion, recognize other-selves, extend other-compassion.

9. My Final Plea to Circumcised Fathers

Circumcised Fathers, I pray that my words will convince you not to continue the cycle of hate by mutilating the penises of your sons. On their behalf I say, without the slightest reservation: I DO NOT WANT TO BE CIRCUMCISED!

Even if your motives are purely selfish, and you care only for the wealth and labor your son will bring you, I say this to you: if you circumcise your son, he will never love and respect you as his father, and will undermine whatever wealth he brings you. He will always remember that you failed in a father’s most important duty - to protect his children from physical harm. He will know it every time he feels pain in his mutilated penis, and know his father failed him, as your father failed you, and he will hate you, as you hated your father.

It is possible for you and your son to have the healthy relationship you and your father never had, but not if you allow his body to come to grievous harm, such as circumcision. If you do that, you are no longer his father. He may forgive you if you repent, but that is up to him, forgiveness cannot be forced once trust is broken and the body is permanently disfigured.

My life has been a hell because of circumcision. I wish it was banned, and I wish I had a whole and complete penis to enjoy every day. I didn’t deserve to have my penis cut in half when I was an infant, and you, a circumcised adult male, didn’t either.

Circumcision is a Hate Crime and a Sex Crime. Fathers, stop paying the cruelty forward to your sons; end generations of trauma with your compassionate and wise decision to do the right thing and protect your sons from grievous harm to their genitals. Stop circumcision.

MICHAEL ASAD MANESH

10. A Thank You to Fathers who Choose to Protect Children

Father, if you have decided NOT to circumcise your son: THANK YOU. You have made one of the most important moral choices of your life correctly, and earned yourself an easier path to wisdom.

Some frightened, unenlightened souls may condemn you for it and tempt you to harm innocents, but those who possess both wisdom and compassion will always praise you for protecting children, as I do.

You have a lifetime of work and responsibility ahead of you as a father and protector, but there are great rewards as well, and you will find many allies and joys once you begin down the path of respect and compassion for yourself and others.

Fathers, if you protect your children, you will be my son, and brother, and father, and I will love you, and fight for you, and listen to you, and protect you for as long as I live, as your father should have done for you.

Together, we can make a heaven on earth for all our children, and ourselves.

2021-03-14, First Edition

michaelmanesh@gmail.com

11. Afterword & Acknowledgements

I was raised to be a soldier: to focus my knowledge and power into a single strike that would destroy the enemy, and leave me unharmed. For that reason, I consider this book a weapon. But who is my enemy?

My enemy is the unconscious rage in circumcised males, that bleeds out and harms those who did not inflict the suffering on them. Only once the rage is acknowledged can it begun to be healed. If you are a warrior, my book is a compact field guide to identifying the enemy within.

As a circumcised male, I can state that I have suffered, I have raged, and that rage almost consumed me and destroyed me. It has taken me many years to undo the psychological damage alone, and the physical damage of my penis mutilation is still a constant pain.

I have lived many years in poverty. I have begged at homeless shelters. I have been denied medical care for circumcision pain. I have done what I needed to to survive and finish this book, but if my conscience would allow me to die after publishing, I might almost consider it a relief. My life so far has not been a blessing or a gift, and I may have years ahead just to heal my penis.

I feel this book is too important to the future of humanity to put behind an app or paywall, so I am making it available for free in three easy to share formats: TXT, HTML & EPUB. Please save, read, and share. If you find my work helpful and wish to thank me, you can donate to me via PayPal or Zelle: michaelmanesh@gmail.com

This is the future I have seen: if we continue to mutilate our children at birth, a child will soon be born with so much rage and hatred at his mistreatment that he will use technology to destroy the world. We are beginning to see evidence of this, as our kids compete unnecessarily with automated tools. This is the final chance for humanity to act to protect all our children, or none shall survive. I was almost this child, but born a generation too soon, which is why I have foreseen it so clearly.

I can no longer take any action that defends or supports those that mutilate children. I cannot even show my implicit support by remaining silent. We, as a global human tribe, MUST protect ALL children from harm, or perish.

I would rather die than not speak out against the mutilation of a child. I will fight tirelessly for children as someone should have fought tirelessly for me. I will be the solution to the problem, or I will die trying. I encourage you to adopt the same attitude.

I did not know how to describe who I am, until an intelligent, kind, clear-eyed child saw me and named me: I’m a Children’s Rights Activist. Equal treatment is the right of all humans, no matter the age, and the most important protection is that from grievous bodily harm: mutilation.

My book is brutally honest, and will likely be extremely triggering to any other circumcised male reading it. Have compassion on yourself. There will be sadness and anger and other strong emotions that will be released when you process your trauma. It will take time to heal; I have been healing for 6 years and am not yet done.

Zoomers: you are the smartest generation ever. You have incredible access to knowledge in your pocket, and I have every faith in you. However, there is a lot of misinformation about circumcision out there. I hope my book fixes that for you. Good luck, kid. Pay it forward to the next gen, aiite?

There are many alive today, that I need to thank as inspirations to write this book:

@pennjillette @MrTeller, the show you made about circumcision was my first real education on the topic, age 30. I love you as my fathers and thank you from the bottom of my heart. You have made my personal life so much better through your art, attitudes and perspective.

@levarburton, thank you for encouraging me to read as a child and take a look for myself. I once had the pleasure of seeing you from afar at an event, and I have never forgotten your compassionate presence and hopeful vision of the future. You inspired me to write this book.

http://www.pete-walker.com, your book on CPTSD was magnificently helpful to me. I would vote for it as a foundational block of a new school of psychology, dedicated in service to children. Thank you.

@BillBurr, I’ve seen a lot of you and I’ve never seen you lie. As far as channeling righteous anger into helpful advice goes, you are my best inspiration.

@DrGaborMate, your outside perspective of American culture filled in many gaps I was struggling to comprehend. I consider you the bravest man I have ever seen, you inspire me to speak out and attempt to educate others in spite of my fear. You will always have my utmost respect.

@EckhartTolle, you the most fearless, powerful warrior I have seen (please don’t fight me :). Even I could not stand against your infinite patience, tireless compassion and reconciliatory humor. You inspire me to show compassion to others through good-natured, helpful humor, and take joy where I can in life, in each moment, and to be myself.

@JohnMayer, I have cried at the beauty and compassion of your song, "Daughters," every time I have heard it. You inspire me to speak up for, love, and defend women. Thank you for your hard work.

I have many women to thank as well - I believe most would prefer to remain anonymous. You have all been my mothers; you have seen my soul. But especially La, a genius who sagely told me not to let my pain go to waste.

I would also like to thank one individual no longer with us: Osho, who inspired me with a vision of a positive eternity, who taught with thousands of jokes and stories, and went though pain of circumcision as an adult to be able to say firsthand it was “absolutely stupid”. If you seek more reading after my book, I recommend his transcript: “Nirvana: The Last Nightmare.”

[salty-ironstrange-shipper]

For convenience’s sake, I’ve compiled my dark ironstrange/supremefamily headcanons

----

So I love the Dark!Stephen Headcannon, do you have any Dark!Tony or maybe some Dark!Ironstrange ones?

You guys have found my weakness

Some more dark!Stephen ones because I misread this at first (these are separate from the ones at the bottom)

Stephen reads Tony’s mind all the time. He always knows exactly what Tony wants to hear and how to manipulate his emotions. He plays with his insecurities constantly and often makes it seem as though the world is against them and all Tony has is him.

If someone who Tony cares about can be manipulated to his side, they’re fine. If they can’t, then prepare to watch him slowly convince Tony that you don’t actually care about him and are working against him.

Peter’s fine - he’s still young and fresh eyed, and Stephen has no trouble swaying him. But Rhodey and Pepper? Gone.

Pepper was easy - their relationship was already on the brink. He just pushed it over. But cutting off Rhodey involved weeks of prodding at their sore spots and the Accords and the rogue Avengers, and then it’s too late. Tony won’t even listen to him try to warn him away from Stephen. There’s nothing they can do.

Now onto what you actually asked for when I looked at it again

Dark!Tony

It started after Ultron and Wanda’s magic. Tony hated himself, hated destruction, hated what he’d done to the world. But instead of going the route of accountability and the Accords, he takes a different one — it was his job to protect the world, no matter the cost.

He obsessively builds weapons and uses them indiscriminately against his enemies — villains, terrorists, the UN when they tried to control him, the Avengers when they tried to stop him.

He realizes that he can’t protect the world like this. There are too many variables, too much out of his control. The only solution is to take it under his control.

He starts with New York, makes it his central hub. He strikes hard and fast, so fast that by the time whatever other superheros are left can even begin to respond, the city is his.

Drones that patrol the streets. Forced implants that know when you’re planning to hurt someone — or plotting against him. The city has never been safer.

He clears out the prisons and uses them as shelters for refugees, abuse victims, the homeless. After all, what are the prisoners going to use them for now that they’re dead?

It’s during a trip to one of these buildings — he always finds time for the people he’s so carefully protecting — that he finds a young boy (I’m fudging the timeline, not @ me) who tells him that his aunt and uncle died in the attack on New York and that he’s been shuffled around foster homes before ending up there. It’s not the nicest place, but there’s food and it’s warm and no one dares hurt anyone else.

Tony is so heartbroken by his story that he’s moved to take the boys home and raise him as his own. He won’t be having kids of his own now with Pepper dead, fallen when she tried to report his plans.

“What’s your name?” “Peter Parker.” “Well, now you’re going to be Peter Stark.”

And for a while Tony is happy. But it’s not long before he sets his sights on the rest of the country … with the help of a new ally.

Dark!Ironstrange/Dark!Supremefamily (look, two for the price of one)

Stephen Strange has been watching him, and he likes what he’s found. Like Tony, he’s certain that the best way to protect the world is to control it — and he thinks the easiest way to do that will be together.

Getting Tony Stark to the sanctum is easy. Quick portal under his feet. Convincing him is almost as easy. When he looks at Tony’s mind he sees the wreckage of Wanda’s magic. The remnants of her power are easily disposed of and replaced with his. From there, all it takes is his manipulation, his assurance that they want the same thing and will get it faster together. He sees it the moment Tony agrees.

Together, the rest of the states fall to them. Stephen is no longer welcome at Kamar-Taj — tends to happen when you kill most of the people at a place — and the tower has long been destroyed. So they build a new place out of what remains of the Compound, one that is equal parts magic and science.

At first, Stephen pays attention to Peter because he knows that Tony will like it and feel more connected to him — though it is not hard to connect to a man so lonely now that the world has turned it’s back on him — but he’s surprised to realize one day that he cares for him, is proud of his resilience in a world that has tired to destroy him and how he has managed to keep a sense of childlike wonder despite the odds.

Peter adores them both. He doesn’t understand why the rest of the world hates them. Don’t they know that Tony and Stephen are just trying to keep them safe?

But somehow Stephen is blind to his own feelings for Tony until they’re fighting the last vestiges of the heroes. It’s them against Captain America, War Machine, and Scarlett Witch. Thor and Bruce never returned from space (at least not that Tony knows of), and T'Challa is keeping Wakanda closed off and safe from them, ignoring pleas of help (he knows he can’t keep the world safe, only his people).

Stephen never thought that he would see Tony die. Tony Stark seemed as invincible as any human could, but he was still human. And when Wanda blasts him out of the sky, he knows what fear is. He makes her know what it is.

It’s almost poetic, he thinks. Wanda Maximoff started this with her visions and now the last of the resistance ends with her. It’s the last thought on his mind before Tony wakes up. When they kiss this time, it’s real.

… So this was more involved than I thought it would be, but I hope you liked it.

-----

I love the Dark!Supremefamily AU so much.. can you make some more headcanons for it please?

I meant to do more of these on the last one, but I got kind of carried away, so thanks for giving me a chance to do some more:

Stephen teaches Peter magic. “Don’t tell your dad.” Stephen warns. “It’ll be our father-son secret.” Peter kept his secret because it was the first time Stephen ever called him son.

Tony is extremely protective of Peter. If anyone so much of thinks of hurting him (or if Tony thinks they are …), Tony will know, and that person will soon find themselves wishing for death. Stephen makes it easier by monitoring the minds of the people around them.

One of the things Tony did when he took over was take control of companies - including the one that created the spider that bit Peter. Peter’s there one day with Tony, working on learning everything he needs to know for when he’s an adult when one of the spiders gets loose and bites Peter.

Tony is angry and terrified. Even Stephen’s assurance that Peter would be fine was worthless. He never left Peter’s side while he alternated between unbearable pain and unconsciousness. When Peter finally got through it okay - better than okay, Peter thought, looking at his newfound muscle with eyes that saw so much more - Tony wept in relief.

For years, Peter begged Tony to let him fight. There were still people who considered them villains, who didn’t understand their work, and he was eager to prove himself. Tony always said no.

When Tony finds out about the magic lessons Stephen was giving Peter, he was irate. But Stephen always had a way of bringing him around to his way of thinking. “Peter is young now. He won’t be for much longer. He needs to know how to protect himself in a world that will want him dead. Or would you keep him powerless for the rest of his life?”

Tony reluctantly let it go, but he still refused to let Peter fight. Peter begged Stephen to intervene on his behalf, but he only ever smiled and assured Peter that his time would come. Eventually, he gives in enough to say, “Ask him again after your birthday. You’ll be an adult then.”

So Peter waited until his 18th birthday. Tony had been spending more and more time away from him lately, planning something. Peter didn’t know what since by then the planet was more or less completely under their control, and Stephen was annoyingly enigmatic when he asked him.

But eventually his birthday did come. Starting with a ceremonial sacrifice by Stephen, they spend the entire day celebrating. Peter can’t help not thinking about it when he’s too busy enjoying the attention.

When sunset comes, Tony halts the party to make an announcement. “Now, for what is clearly the most important part of the evening, I have a gift for my son.” Peter sat up in his chair as Tony moved to the middle of the room where a black tube connecting the ceiling and floor. “Peter, as my present, I give to you-” the tube opened, revealing- “The Iron Spider.”

Peter stared at the suit - red and blue and, if you looked closely, gold mandalas that showed Stephen’s influence, with a spider in the center of the chest. “Are you serious?”

“Of course. You’re going to need it after all. Because next month Stephen and I will lead our new campaign as we set our eyes not on the ground, but on the sky, and leave Earth and the Solar System to continue our work of protecting the world. And Peter will be with us.”

Peter was speechless. Stephen just smiled and said “Happy birthday.”

Tony made a toast. “To … the future.”

Their guests followed his lead. “To the future!”

------

Please please give me more dark!supreme family, I'm obsessed Ps. I love your blog

I’ve created a monster

Stephen is the fun dad by design. Early on in his and Tony’s relationship, he would manipulate him into doing things that were overly strict or made Peter upset so that he could be the nice one and help Peter out

Stephen dampens Peter’s memories of his family and past friends so that he’ll be more accepting of them

Tony’s birthday present to Peter was the Iron Spider suit, but Stephen’s was a bit different - Steve Rogers, the only surviving hero fighting them, who Stephen happily killed in a blood ritual that would grant Peter protection, simultaneously giving his son a gift and ridding their family of an enemy

Tony is careful to include Peter as much as he can in the decisions he makes and what it takes to be a leader (cough*dictator*cough)

Peter matures quickly. He knows that his dads and their empire have a lot of enemies, and that they might die one day and he would need to take over

Peter didn’t have a lot of friends. Tony and his A.I. took up his schooling, and he was never able to get into contact with the people he remembered. Once Stephen got involved, he started spending time with the sorcerers, but he still spends most of his time with his dads

Usually, Peter goes to Tony for comfort and Stephen for advice. Of course, Stephen’s advice is usually along the lines of “just send them to the dark dimension” but sometimes that’s what you want to hear

That’s all I’ve got for now

[all-by-myself98]

I’m Sorry

Fandom: Hellboy

Prompt: Your chest will glow when you get close to your soulmate.

Character: Ben Daimio

Warnings: It’s 2019 Hellboy. There’s definitely swearing.

   It has been 8 years, 5 months, and 22 days since you were kidnapped and first experimented on. In those 8 years, no one seemed to care about your disappearance. The tiny box TV in your padded room tells you current events in the area and there is nothing about missing homeless teens from 8 years ago.

   Fair enough. You didn’t have much friends back then except for a few other kids on the street you would hang around.

   You also weren’t alone, from what you could tell. About 3 months ago, there was a lot of chatter with the guards about a new specimen locked away in their own special place.

   The experiments performed on you consisted of a lot of weekly injections. They would also wheel you into a room but you were never awake or told what they did to you. All you knew was that, one day, you were completely normal and, over the next few months, you realized that you could manipulate your own, and other people’s senses. You had even attempted to escape by rendering the guards blind but you learned that they could block your abilities by turning on a specific frequency.

   You knew you missed so much. You had been kidnapped at 18 from under a bridge where you made home. You were now almost 27. A lot of things would race into your mind.

   Where are your friends from the homeless network? Did they finally get off the streets and finish high school?

   What about the stray dogs you would feed every Saturday?

   Did you ever get a call back on that job opening at the movie theater?

   Is your soulmate well?

   You had been the last of your friends to not meet your soulmate and, now that you were here in this hell, you doubted you would ever get to see him. You would just end up being a guinea pig for the rest of your life.

   But it’s 8 years, 5 months, and 22 days after you were initially kidnapped that you will finally be saved.

   It’s another mindless day of tests. They always run tests on you, learning about you and poking and prodding you. In fact, you have never left this compound. They let you do their dirty work for them from the same interrogation room. You sit in the room, they bring someone or something in. They tell you what to do to it, what to change, what to heighten or take away.

   On this day, they do their tests as always. Eight AM to 1 PM, and then you have the rest of the day off to have your lunch, read, watch from limited television programs, and sleep. The rest of the time, they are working on their new mystery specimen.

   It’s around 7 PM, after they slide your dinner under the door, that something unexpected happens. The television flashes off and doesn’t turn back on again. Almost simultaneously, the lights switch off and then are suddenly replaced by a dark glow from the emergency lights.

   You frown, standing up from your place on the ground and checking the little stereo as well. It is also not working.

   Then there’s commotions from outside. Yelling and gunfire and fighting. The hands on your arms stand up on end, goosebumps arise as the heating system is also shut off.

   The eye-level flap to your door is opened and a guard yells out “Get back, you freak!”

   You do as told, crawling back onto your bed in the corner of the room. However, before he can unlock and open the door, something big and red rams into him and throws him out of your view.

   You suddenly feel a strange faint warmness from your chest. You look down to see that, through the gray T-shirt, there is a bright glowing emanating from your chest. Your soulmate is somewhere nearby!

   What in the actual hell is going on?

   The door is then thrown across your room, hitting the wall, with signs of scorching on what used to be the outside. A big, red, brutish man enters. He has long black hair, red horns that look to have been crudely sawed off, and yellow eyes. But his chest doesn’t glow. He isn’t your soulmate.

   “Hi.” He says point-blank. “Um... I’ll be honest, we didn’t know anyone else was here except for the weird fish guy.” He adds sheepishly, an irony to the screaming coming from down the hall. “So anyway, we turned the power off... and yeah... we’re here to save you. Let’s go.”

   He leaves, running down the hallways once more and you can hear the yelling and screaming of your abusers.

   You follow hesitantly, peaking your head out of the empty doorway. Blood and bodies litter the floors and walls, scientists who experimented on you for years, others who didn’t lift a finger to help when you screamed and cried as a young 18-year-old girl. You follow the hulking red man from a considerable distance. He’s a new face and, with the mind games that these people have played before, you wouldn’t be hugely surprised to find out this was all some sick simulation.

   But you also can’t argue that your chest is glowing right now. The sudden feeling of warmth and safety and love is not something they can fake. The feeling of real sticky blood on the walls isn’t something that can be faked either. And the hot scorching from the broken down door you left behind.

   There is simply no way this can be faked, right?

   All of a sudden, you find yourself thrown to the ground, a large creature on top of you. The large cat bares it’s fangs at you, its paw partially tearing into your shirt.

   You scream, trying to push it off before you notice the same glowing that comes from your chest also comes from its chest. You temporarily blind the thing, giving you the advantage to push it off and away from you. In front of your own eyes, the large cougar begins to transform into a naked and vulnerable man.

   The red-skinned person from earlier turns around to see what happened, noticing you shifting closer to the wall, hugging your knees to your chest with your shirt partly torn and the cougar man thing yelling that he can’t see.

   “What the fuck, Daimio? She’s was held captive, you dumbass.” He pauses as he approaches you both. ‘Daimio’ is silent now, curled into a ball. You scamper away again, back to your room and grab a blanket from the bed.

   “Why is he saying he can’t see?” The red man asks you as you come back.

   You don’t say anything, though. You still worry that you’re still under the control of the scientists and you were always told to keep your mouth shut. Instead, you drape the blanket over Daimio, placing a soothing touch to his head. His sight is immediately back and, even though he doesn’t shy away from your touch, his whole body is stiff and tense.

   You finally speak after you feel you’re in control again. “I’m sorry.” You whisper. Your voice is hoarse from a lack of using it. He relaxes a bit more under those words so you repeat them over and over again. “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.”

   Daimio looks up once again, eyes open and eyesight fully restored. He repeats your words back to you when he sees the small tear on your shirt. And he apologizes again when he sees the glowing from your chest and his. But, with this realization that you two are soulmates, he finally relaxes and hugs you closer and refuses to let go.

   You haven’t realized until now as you hug this stranger who is no doubt your soulmate close to you that you missed touch. Despite all of this control over senses, the one you yourself lacked the most over the past 8 years was touch. The scientists only ever touched you to perform their tests and experiments on you and, even before, living life as a homeless teen on the streets, you never got to experience this feeling much. You had associated touch with danger or weakness.

   Now that you truly felt safe, you were willing to embrace the so-called weakness.

---------------

A/N: I totally feel like this was a bit extra and a bit too heavy on actions and descriptions but fuck it. As always, feedback is appreciated.

[firebirdsdaughter]

Okay…

@briansastro10​

… I think we have a bit of a language barrier here, or something, and I’m afraid I don’t quite follow. If you don’t mind bearing w/ me, I get confused easily, but I do have things I want to say:

1) Horobi had no choice but to follow the Ark. He was hacked, aka mind controlled and brainwashed. He wasn’t ‘choosing’ to do any of that stuff, he was merely being used as a tool.

2) I don’t recall Horobi ever finding out Aruto was even at Daybreak, let alone lost family in it.

3) The thing I was criticising was the show’s decision to include a flashback of Soreo’s death in that sequence, bc it implies that the show and therefore the audience consider/should consider Horobi responsible for Soreo’s death, when not too long ago, they had Aruto shouting at Gai that he was the true cause of the Ark, and, again, the above brainwashing. Horobi was literally not in control of his own actions anymore than a MaGear at that point, it’s not right to let Jin, Naki, and even Raiden off the hook for the stuff they did under the Ark/Gai’s command and then blame Horobi for what he did. Jin was distributing ZetsumeRisers, Raiden was a spy, and Naki was manipulating everything and giving out RaidRisers, all by an external command, bc of manipulation (in the case of Jin and Naki) or hacking (in Raiden’s case). It’s really not right to recognise Yua’s, a full matured human adult who exhibited reasoning and at least reasonable emotional control and knowledge of morality, situation, to excuse her as having been manipulated and mistreated into doing the things she did, whilst blaming Horobi. Including Soreo’s death in that flashback implies that it should be considered equitable w/ Izu’s death, which it was not. Horobi did not kill Soreo, or even cause his death. For one thing, the explosion was caused by people trying to kill the Ark (another Soreo?) and, again, Horobi was brainwashed and not in control of his actions.

4) I will also repeat this as many times as necessary: Horobi was conditioned and used by the Ark. Again, to bring up Yua; she very nearly killed Izu in cold blood on Gai’s orders while Izu was panicked and confused and trying to run away. The only reason that did not happen was that Gai said the wrong thing and Fuwa snapped out of it in time. Here, Izu was completely calm, had plenty of time to dodge, clearly saw the threat, and did nothing. I bring this up bc both Horobi and Yua were in abusive, manipulative situations where they were controlled by someone else—the difference being, Yua was, again, a fully fledged human adult w/ a developed sense of right and wrong, enough that she knew what she was doing was wrong, but her situation had convinced her she had no choice. She was unwell and not in a good place. But she knew. Horobi literally couldn’t. On top of that, he was exposed solely to the Ark’s selective data (courtesy, Amatsu Gai), for years. Like he said in the AIMS basement, his understanding was that the Ark would always rise as long as human malice existed—and he didn’t turn on the Ark bc he suddenly realised humans were ‘good,’ but bc the Ark turned on HumaGear (and tried to make him kill Jin), and he realised what he wanted was peace and safety for HumaGear. But even after breaking free of the Ark, the conditioning and that belief still lasts. To him, seeking human destruction was merely the logical conclusion in order to ensure the safety of HumaGear. Humans teach HumaGear evil and give rise to the Ark, which is a danger to HumaGear, and caused him to do things that hurt HumaGear, the way his mind has been conditioned to work, the logical conclusion is to cut the knot and remove the ‘source,’ humans. It’s not a personal grudge, it’s being logical. That’s his thought process—and, honestly, he’s got a point, the Ark was created by humans, and they’ve never owned up to it, the guy responsible is walking around free, and a number of HumaGear died and suffered for it. It’s unclear when exactly the emotions start catching up to him—he was def managing to hold on to the logic, I like to think by focusing on the fact that he thought this would be best for Jin (he knew Jin was important to him, even if he didn’t know why, and he took the time to take care of him before going out). He’s very calm when talking to Izu and shows no aggression toward her, it’s not until Fuwa and Yua show up guns drawn that he reacts violently—bc he perceives a threat, sees their aggression, which counteracts Izu’s claims about the goodness of humans. All he sees is humans looking to destroy. But despite that, he still goes and asks Fuwa about proving the Ark will not rise again, and that’s another important thing; Horobi is looking for an absolute. He is looking for an absolute assurance that the Ark will not come back, that human cruelty will never be a danger again, and that’s not possible. Fuwa’s response, although it can be translated as a believable blunder on Fuwa’s part, does nothing but make the situation worse, bc he violently rejects Horobi’s question and says he’s there to destroy him and then prepares to shoot him. To Horobi, who got tortured the last time he asked a question, that’s enough. And right on the heels of that, Izu comes in and starts pressuring him about emotions. He’s stated to have been literally terrified of these sensations taking over him, and the Ark trained him react to that kind of thing w/ violence—bc he can’t attack the feelings inside himself, he system concludes Izu must be the source and fires on her… Only that doesn’t work, the sensations actually get worse. His increasing aggressiveness in insisting he doesn’t have a heart after that is basically a little kid getting more and more insistent that they didn’t steal a cookie when they did. He was conditioned to think removing Izu would remove the feelings, but instead that made it worse, harder to control, that frightens him even more, bc he doesn’t know what’s happening, he doesn’t know what those feelings are. He falls back on old answers to Jin’s questions bc he doesn’t know the answer (but we can’t let the son know that, father’s always have to have an answer). Meanwhile, he doesn’t understand why Aruto’s the Ark. Like, he def expected humans to resist, why wouldn’t they, I don’t think he’d’ve been surprised by Aruto being mad, Aruto’s been mad at him before for people he knew less. I think it was Aruto going as far as using the Ark’s power (also, I think the Ark still terrified him) that threw him for a loop and pissed him off (something he might’ve understood? But it had def never controlled him like that before). Additionally, I don’t think he could have conceived to seek revenge on his own—when Jin died, he was clearly overwhelmed and very dazed. It took Azu showing up and telling him how he felt for him to react. A friend put it really well, so I’ll paraphrase: Azu’s role for Aruto was ‘you are absolutely right to want revenge on Horobi!’ while her role for Horobi was ‘hey, hey, you want revenge on Aruto, right?’ Aruto jumped at the chance while Horobi didn’t know what to do, and ended up following the first lead he had—which was literally how the Ark kept him so easy to manipulate. I still don’t see the Aruto side of it (well… it’s complicated), but if you go back and look, I think you can def see how the Ark was conditioning Horobi as a patsy for this from the start.

4) Bc I refuse to ever let this go unsaid when discussing it, Horobi was not the only person responsible for the Izu situation. If I were to list the people I hold responsible, in order, it’d be: Amatsu, for creating the Ark in the first place. The Ark/Azu, clearly the AI w/ the most know-how, who very deliberately manipulated the whole situation, was well aware of what Horobi’s mental state would be like, and manipulated both Jin and Izu into being stupid. Fuwa and Yua for escalating things, esp bc Fuwa’s character development was allegedly about learning not to rush in swinging and literally the next episode Yua is giving a speech to Williamson about how they shouldn’t respond to the HumaGear’s ‘new hearts’ w/ aggression, like she didn’t do that exact thing, like, yesterday, wtf. Aruto, for hanging around outside instead of doing what one might expect from someone who wanted to resolve stuff peacefully and going to the root of the situation, and for not keeping an eye on Izu (I have other opinions about his behaviour there, but those are for another time), and for apparently not even bothering to try and give Izu a backup. And, finally, Horobi and Izu. Yes, I hold Horobi the least ‘responsible’ and I hold Izu responsible. Bc, and I do not mean this as an insult to any of the characters, it’s like taking a dog that was abused and used in dog fights and leaving it alone w/ a domesticated dog it doesn’t know. More than likely, if the domesticated dog starts trying to play like it’s used to playing the abused dog is going to react aggressively, possibly even bite. Neither Horobi nor Izu had the emotional maturity to handle that situation. He had been conditioned to fear and reject emotion, had been kept away from it, and therefore had no control over it, nor knew what it was—to him, it felt like some unidentifiable ‘sensation’ wrenching control away from him, clouding his mind; additionally, he’d just had his one attempt to reach out and understand violently shut down, and he’d been conditioned for years to respond to uncertainty and confusion by destroying the source—when Izu was prodding at him about feelings and ‘hearts,’ she pushed his already fragile state into full panic that he lacked the emotional maturity to handle, and he reacted the only way he knew how. W/ Izu, if she had just told Aruto, or anyone, anything about where she was going, tried to coordinate rather than just running off like that, if she hadn’t rushed him and repeatedly pressured and prodded him, if she had dodged, then things would have gone differently—but, ultimately, her data was just as biased as Horobi was, and she had absolutely no way to understand or work through what was going on for him. Horobi didn’t seek out Izu and kill her in cold blood, she approached him, and made a conscious choice not to dodge. If we want to get really deep, I also blame Korenosuke bc Izu not having a backup is stupid, it protected literally nothing, if they had actually tried to back her up and there was a reason why they couldn’t, I’d be less judgemental, but wtf the Zero-One equipment got hijacked up the wazoo and it’s very uncomfortable that Izu was just cool w/ that bc it ‘benefited humans’ and it made Aruto look kinda hypocritical… But that’s more the writers. But, to try and sum this up… I do give Horobi some responsibility, bc he yeah, he did pull the trigger, but the fact was, he didn’t understand what he was doing (also likely didn’t know Izu had no backup, it probably never occurred to him humans would do that), or why. Essentially, he was still being used as a weapon by the Ark, who manipulated the whole thing bu showing Izu that vision, making her rush in and not tell anyone, then the humans abandon their reasoning for an day and go in all aggressive, Horobi sees this as a threat, but even then still tries to reach out only to get shot down (literally), and then Izu comes in and stresses him out further and he cracks. And she chooses to stand there and take the hit. Gai knowingly shutdown multitudes of HumaGear w/ the intention of them never coming back online, Yua nearly killed Izu before, actively hunting her down, Fuwa, I love him dearly, but Fuwa was down to smash every single robot he saw no matter what they said. These were human adults w/ knowledge of morality and emotional maturity and control (okay, Fuwa’s a little debatable…). All of them, esp Gai, are walking around just fine. Like. Gai. Gai. Aruto goes Ark on Horobi for this but is letting Gai walk???? I don’t even like Aruto, and that’s ooc! But to try and sum up my sum up: Horobi was the gun Azu shot Izu w/. It was a gambit. She deliberately manipulated them all into a situation where this would happen. Yes, Horobi pulled the trigger, but if this were court, a plea of insanity could be made/he’d be being sent to a psychiatric ward rather than regular prison.

5) Horobi blaming himself is one thing. It was very clearly depicted before that he had no sense of free will for himself, he only knew the Ark’s will. It is absolutely natural that after being so deep under the Ark’s control for so long, he’d have immense trouble differentiating between his own, new will, and the Ark’s. He might not be able to tell what he wanted or what the Ark wanted. He genuinely does not know how to make that distinction. He also has literally only just kind of gotten a grasp on consequences and cause and effect. I’d love to think he’ll be allowed to figure out he was manipulated by the Ark and that things like that weren’t things he wanted to do, but I dunno if the show will give me that. What I’m criticising is the apparent intent of saying that the audience should blame him for those things. What I want is confirmation that Aruto knows that the situation was manipulated, that Horobi wasn’t ‘in control’ when that happened. I wanted Aruto to respond to Horobi blaming himself for Izu and Jin’s deaths w/ ‘it’s more complicated than that.’ Horobi blaming himself is understandable, bc he’s barely figured out cause and effect, regret, anger, that shooting things is not an appropriate way to handle a situation. He’s only just gotten a few emotions. Nuance is going to be lost on him for a bit. He’s been trapped seeing only in black and white for so long, he’s going to need help seeing grey. Horobi blaming himself makes sense. I’m just criticising that the humans, who should know that it wasn’t as simple as that, didn’t let him know tha t he didn’t need to shoulder all the blame. Bc he was just a single part of a whole chain of events, not the sole cause. And I’m criticising that the show seemed to be implying that he also had a responsibility for Soreo’s death, which was a completely different situation that he def was not responsible for.

This is likely way more than you were expecting, and I do talk a lot, I know. I just wanted to try and establish my reasoning here. I hope I wasn’t too incomprehensible, I have trouble articulating my thoughts outside of fictional writing. I think I’ve just been keeping a lot of this in.

I should say that if you are bothered by my stance on this, I would recommend blocking me or my Zero-One tags, bc I am stubborn as all hell and will not budge, and will occasionally be very vocal. Horobi is very important to me, and I have no sympathy for victim blaming, esp not when it involves literal perpetrators getting away scot free (*cough cough* Amatsu Gai *cough cough*).

[the--sad--hatter]

Name Calling (8)

FANDOM - MARVEL MCU

PAIRING - BUCKY X READER (female reader, no physical descriptions)

WARNINGS - ALL OF THEM, SMUT, VIOLENCE ANGST. Non graphic hint at past child abuse in this chapter. 

DESCRIPTION -  In which the ongoing and bloody war of words between you and Bucky turns in your favor when a disgruntled one night stand of his lets slip a secret when you run into her in the elevator… Now you have all the ammunition you need to destroy your enemy but you don’t plan on killing him quickly. Oh no, Bucky Barnes was going to suffer and you were going to enjoy every second. You just didn’t count on how much you would enjoy it.

Chapter Eight - Introduction To Fatherhood

EIGHTEEN MONTHS AGO

It was an indisputable fact that Tony Stark did not play by the rules. He wasn’t part of this mission with the X-Men really, he was here a favour. It was supposed to be a simple in and out, disable the security and let the mutants infiltrate the facility and get on with their rescue mission. Curiosity got the better of him though. He’d easily taken down the tech that was protecting the facility but while in the computer system his attention had been caught by something. An interestingly high amount of the power was being diverted to one particular room and he wanted to know why.

The X-Men were inadvertently providing a good distraction with their attack and Tony made it to the mysterious room with relative ease, only encountering two small groups of soldiers that had been taken down quickly. Tony pushed the door open and stepped though, gauntlets poised and at the ready. What he saw was not what he expected.

There was a metal 6×4 cage in the centre of the room, inside it a rubber mattress and a figure curled up on it. Tony approached apprehensively.

“Boss, scans show 15,000 volts of electricity running through those bars at a current of 0.2 amp. I highly recommend you don’t touch them.” Friday warned.

Tony whistled lowly, impressed.

“Whoever you are, they’re going to a lot of effort to keep you in that cage.” Tony addressed the figure.

It stirred, raising it’s head to look at him and Tony’s heart skipped a beat. It was a girl, barely a woman. Her face was gaunt and sunken, her expression was cold and empty. But her eyes, they were burning.

“You think because I won’t fight your prisoners I’ll fight a robot?” She asked and pulled herself to her feet, and he could tell that it took a lot of effort.

“I will never give you what you want.” She vowed.

Despite her obvious trouble standing up she stood tall. She’d called him a robot and he realised she didn’t know who he was, which made him wonder just how long she had been here.

“Friday we still in the system.” He asked

“Yes Boss.”

“Shut the cell down.”

“Done”

Tony fired his repulsor at the cell door lock and yanked the door off the hinges. The girl was shaking but didn’t back away as Tony approached her, in fact she raised her chin defiantly. Her eyes widened and she gasped as the Iron Man suit folded away.

“I’m not going to hurt you.” He promised.

Now that he was closer he could see the bruised layered over fading bruises covering her skin.

“How long have you been here?” He asked her.

Her head cocked to the side and she looked him over curiously.

“Who are you?” She asked.

“You should know who I am, everybody in the world knows who I am. And for once that’s not my ego talking, I just really am that famous.”

She looked at him, her brow furrowed.

“Alright lets start again. Tony Stark, Iron Man. And you are?”

“Is this a trick?”

“No, it’s a rescue mission.”

She laughed, it wasn’t a happy laugh, there was no joy in it. It was a bitter, painful laugh.

“So it is a trick. There is no escape from this place, no rescue. There is no saving me, I know that. I learned that lesson a long time ago.”

“It’s time to get re-educated sweetcheeks, we are shutting this place down. Every mutant being held here is currently being led out by a team of literal superheroes. The people who did this to you are going to pay, and they’re paying today.”

Her shoulders dropped and he saw her visibly deflate, the fire that had been in her eyes dimming.

“Stop it. I won’t fall for this, you’re wasting your time.”

She dismissed him and resumed her previous position, curled up on the mattress.

“Jesus Christ. What have they done to you?”

She ignored him. Tony crouched down next to her.

“Listen to me kid, I know I’m asking a lot. I’m asking you to have hope and that can’t be easy. Maybe this is a trick, maybe I am lying. But if there’s even the slightest chance I’m telling the truth, that I am going to take you out of here, don’t you HAVE to take that chance?”

He could see the sheen of unshed tears in her eyes. He held out his hand to her.

“I will get you out of here, I will keep you safe. I promise. All you have to do is take my hand and I’ll do the rest.”

She stared at his outstretched hand and he saw her internal struggle. For a long moment she did nothing and he started to worry. He didn’t want to pick her up and drag her out, he doubted that would endear him to her but he would do whatever it took to get her out of this wretched place. Then slowly, hesitantly she reached out and tentatively placed her hand in his.

“Atta girl. What’s your name?”

“I don’t have one, they never gave me one.”

“What was your name before?” He prodded.

“Before?”

“Before you were here.”

She frowned and he felt a cold sense of dread in his gut. He knew what she was about to say but still prayed he was wrong.

“There is no before. I was born here.”

If all the people who’d ever said that Tony Stark didn’t have a heart had seen him right then, they’d have known just how wrong they were because that was the moment Tony’s heart broke.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

The first few days were the hardest and Tony was out of his depth. When he’d taken her out of that place and refused to hand her over to Xaviers people he’d had the best of intentions. He’d arrogantly thought he could look after you better than a school filled with teachers with experience at this sort of thing.

It had been three days and you hadn’t slept, every time he left the room you followed after him like a faithful little shadow. If he gave you food you would eat it but you wouldn’t tell him if you were hungry. If he moved too quickly you would flinch. He had Pepper researching therapists, she’d found a woman who specialised in children who’d been raised by religious cults but he knew it was too soon to suggest it to you. He hadn’t let Pepper or anyone near this floor of the tower.

Then there was the fact that you were enhanced. Your bruises had healed up before they’d even made it back to the tower. He’d read over the files he’d extracted from the facility, though a large chunk of them were missing or corrupted.

You were for all intents and purposes a Super Soldier. Not quite as strong as Steve, though quicker. Tony thought that was probably because you were physically smaller but there was no way of knowing for sure without further testing and scientific curiosity be damned, he would die before ever testing you that way. It wasn’t the super soldier serum that had made you Vernichtung though. He had faced the tablet screen away from you and watched the footage of that on silent. What he had seen still haunted him.

What didn’t haunt him was the dozens of videos of you refusing to do that bastard doctors bidding. From childhood to now, Tony watched you grow up on the small glass screen. In the worst conditions, through unimaginable pain and loneliness you stood there year after year and said no you would not kill, you would not destroy. No matter what they did, you held your ground. Docherty had tried to create a monster and ended up with someone so very human.

“You need a name. People have names and you’re a person.” He told you.

And so he read out names from a list on a baby naming website until he saw your head lift up just a fraction and your eyes lit up. Now you had a name. It was a turning point for the two of you. Having a name made you feel safer, like maybe this was real, maybe you were actually free.

It didn’t happen overnight and some days were harder than others. You met Pepper and while it had been nerve wracking for Tony she had taken to you straight away. Some days you wouldn’t leave Tony’s side but some days you would run through the tower excitedly to ask how to use a microwave. Some nights you would scream in your sleep and Tony would hold you as you sobbed. The therapist you had agreed to see said that was a good sign, it meant you felt safe enough to process your trauma. It didn’t stop it hurting when you cried into his chest. You put in a herculean effort to catching up on a lifetimes worth of movies and TV shows as soon as you worked out how to work a TV.

One day there had been a very minor explosion in the lab while he was in there with you and Pepper and you had pushed Pepper behind you and assumed a protective stance without hesitating. Whenever he fell asleep in the lab he woke up with a pillow under his head and a blanket over his shoulders. You had insisted on learning to cook and were constantly shoving plates of food at him. They got more edible over time thankfully.

The hardest day for Tony was the first day you left the tower, but you had been fine. Terrified yes, you hadn’t let go of his hand the entire time but you did it.

The best day had been when you had casually and jokingly called him dad when he was fussing over you. He had froze as he realized that what he was, a dad.

That was the day he had decided to give you the Stark name.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

MODERN DAY

Tony glanced over to you in the passenger seat as he drove you to the compound. After you had rushed out of the lab you had come back and hour later and apologised. He told you your apology was accepted and to get your ass in the car. You hadn’t argued. In fact you hadn’t said a word since. He sighed. Perhaps he had been harsh. You had been right when you said he was mollycoddling you. He had been so concerned with keeping his promises to keep you safe he had given you a false sense of security.

As furious as he was with the journalists who had swamped you he was also glad they had stopped you from leaving the tower. He just wish he knew what to say to right now. He needed to know you were ok.

His internal struggle was rudely interrupted by Cap calling. Tony answered and put him on loud speaker.

“We just got a call from Fury. His people just identified a Hydra operation in South Mexico. Fully operational facility, over 200 agents on site, enhanced allies suspected.” Steve said without preamble.

“We’ve know they were operating out of somewhere in South Mexico for a while, glad we finally have a location.”

“The informant escaped Tony. Hydra know we know.”

“So we either go in without any recon, knowing they’re ready for us or let them scatter.” Tony summarised.

“Those are the only two options, yeah.” Steve agreed.

“Well then oh fearless leader. What’s our play?” Tony asked.

“We hit them and hit them hard, we need everyone on this.”

“Everyone?” You asked.

“Yes. We need you on this.” Steve confirmed.

You didn’t have to look to know Tony wasn’t happy. You had only been on a handful of missions so far, usually you hung back unless you were needed. It had only happened three times so far, on two of those occasions you had been able to handle the situation as yourself. Only once had Vernichtung had to do the job. From the sounds of this mission… Well you were fairly certain Steve wasn’t asking you to be yourself.

“You have me, all of me.” You said.

“Hey now, slow down. You’ve only been on one date.” Tony joked, but it was weak and lacked his usual sass.

“We’re en route, we don’t have time to stop. You have to come to us.” Steve told you both.

“Aye Aye Captain.” Tony said.

He swerved off the road and pulled up, cutting the engine. He watched as you squared your shoulders and mentally prepared yourself. You turned to him with a determined look.

“Come on dad, time to suit up.” You said and got out of the car.

Yeah, you were going to be fine.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

@dugan365 @fluffeh-kitty@memanda17@krystallynx@theonelittleone@piscesbarnes@free-as-fishes@tarastudiesalot@captainamericasbeard@buckybearbabe98@nerdandproud-86  @clarkesardothien @harrison-shot-first @chook007@thejourneyneverendsx @thelostallycat @inquisitor-selvala

@the-corruptor @iover

[meagan-marie]

Six Months at Riot Games

I’ve been up all night after reading Kotaku’s article on the company culture of Riot, and its effect on women in particular. Cecilia contacted me as a potential source, but I didn’t commit to providing my experience on the record because I was worried about the ramifications of speaking out. The discourse around this conversation and the reticence to believe the women who came forward has stunned me. I’ve been carrying around a heavy weight on my shoulders since 2014, and I feel it is finally time to let it go. I only lasted six months at Riot before resigning.

In 2014, I left a job I loved and colleagues I adored to take up a post at Riot Games in Dublin. One of their recruiters had reached out to me nearly a year prior, and while I was immensely happy at my current place of work, I had always wanted to work abroad at least once in my life. I was becoming addicted to League of Legends, Riot had a history of great community-centric initiatives, and I felt that if I turned down the opportunity, I would always ask myself, “What if?”

I was initially apprehensive, as I had been told firsthand that Riot could have a “bro” culture at times. So I did my research. I asked the recruiter directly about the mysterious “culture” of Riot, and why conforming to it was so important. I even messaged a handful of women ex-Rioters to ask about their experiences. They all confirmed that Riot could have a “frat party” type atmosphere at times, but didn’t relay stories of overt sexism or harassment.

I took the job in early 2014. I sold my car, packed up all my belongings in a shipping container, committed to a long-distance relationship with my partner, and sent my cats off for the mandatory 30 days of quarantine. I fully committed, expecting to work there for several years at the minimum.

Before I detail some of what I experienced at Riot, first, let me state the obvious. The behavior below is NOT indicative of all Riot employees. The large majority of Riot employees I’ve met have been lovely, and as evidenced above, there are many people who weren’t subject to sexist behavior and harassment. That being said, from my own experiences and that of many others speaking out this week, an unacceptable number of people – primarily, but not exclusively women – have been subject to inappropriate behavior at Riot for years. It is systemic to the company’s culture and needs to be addressed as such.  

I’ve outlined some of the most notable negative encounters with Riot staff below. These don’t account for the daily microaggressions and condescending remarks that are too numerous to detail. For transparency, being four years removed from Riot has not degraded my recollection of these events. I am drawing them directly from the eight-page resignation letter I sent to Riot in August of 2014.

Content-Warning: Sexist, racist, homophobic, and transphobic language, as well as mentions of sexual assault.

At Riot, employees are encouraged to play League before/after work, or during lunch. My very first week at the Dublin office, I heard shouting from individuals playing together, calling each other “f*ggots” repeatedly. I was unnerved, but it was my first week and I didn’t know if this was a common occurrence. I didn’t say anything at that time. Eventually, the language would escalate to “n*gger”. No one flinched, and I realized it was considered the norm. Nearly the same thing happened my first day of meetings at the Riot LA office, where two men were loudly calling each other “c*cksuckers” right outside the office of the CEOs.

Soon I began to notice gendered language regularly being used among male Rioters to insult each other. Guys would tell each other “not to be such a girl” and call one another “p*ssies” quite regularly. They would casually refer to women as “b*tches” and say that “all women were crazy.” I also overheard a group discussing how a female professional made it far in the industry, suggesting she “sucked c*ck to get to the top.

My first month at Riot we had an opportunity to talk with one of the CEOs for an office-wide AMA. We were encouraged to submit questions anonymously. I submitted something that had bothered me for some time as a League player. I wondered why – other than the child characters and Yordles – nearly all the female champions had the exact same body type. The male champions were young, old, skinny, athletic, obese, handsome, monstrous, and more – they were unique and diverse. The most prevalent characteristic of female champions at the time was sex appeal. I wanted something more. I wanted to know when we would get a female equivalent of Gragas. 

The senior staff liked the question so much that they requested I ask it live, rather than anonymously. I was apprehensive at first because I was so new, but I also understood that this was an important opportunity to directly challenge someone in a position of power who could make a change. Unfortunately, the response boiled down to “giving the players what they want”, to which I rebutted that Riot was big enough to influence player perception of what characters are cool or fun to play. I was very disappointed by the response, which felt dismissive of the issue. (As a side note, I was happy to see Riot’s efforts to diversify their female champions these past few years.)

After the meeting, I realized I had put a target on my back with some of the men in the office. I didn’t even make it to my desk before a male colleague came up and told me that “women don’t want to play unattractive champions. They want to feel beautiful.” I was stunned. A woman behind us audibly laughed at the fact that he was informing us of our gender’s gaming preferences. A few male coworkers also asked why I would like to see an “unattractive” female champion, or a plus size female champion, because “no one wants to look at that.” These were several of dozens of conversations I would have on the matter.

Things only got worse the longer I stayed at Riot. I didn’t go out with colleagues after events because strip clubs seemed to be a common destination. Asking me what age I lost my virginity at was deemed appropriate conversation during a team dinner, and employees I didn’t know prodded into how my sex life worked in a long-distance relationship.

I felt out of place in my direct team as well. Our Jira sprints were named things like “thong.” I was the only woman on that particular team, and so a senior staff member named us the “Bros and Ho”.  I immediately tried to shut that down, but it was used for weeks regardless.

Rape became a punchline to jokes quite frequently, including one instance where an employee went on for several hours about how he was going to rape his male colleague, who was his hotel roommate. He was graphic in exactly how he was going to rape his roommate, who was a new hire, and it was obvious that the individual in question was extremely uncomfortable.

While on a team outing, the same senior staff member messaged a new employee’s girlfriend on Facebook asking if she was “DTF” - shorthand for “down to f*ck”. He thought it was a funny joke. The new staffer didn’t feel comfortable challenging him, even though his girlfriend was very uncomfortable and called to ask why she was being harassed by his boss.

Then came the final straw. At a work dinner, it came up that I thought I’d been paired in a hotel room with a male Rioter. It turned out to be a typo in the name, and, as was standard, I was paired with another woman. A senior staff member proceeded to repeatedly call me sexist for not being willing to room with a man I’d never met before. At first, I thought he was kidding, but he continued to make arguments to his point. I explained why I would be more comfortable sharing a room with another woman, and told him I wasn’t enjoying the conversation and would leave if I was continued to be called sexist. The conversation continued, with him eventually saying that my unwillingness to room with a man was the same as not hiring a woman due to her gender. I left the table in the middle of dinner, unwilling to take any more after six months of such behavior. I submitted my resignation shortly after.

My biggest concern with Riot – putting my own experiences behind me – is the inappropriate and sometimes predatory behavior that some staff exhibited towards fans. I frequently pushed back against comments and scenarios like these but found I was one of the few that would speak up. Rioters are often seen as celebrities with dedicated fans, and it is easy to abuse that power. 

I regularly witnessed lewd comments about women passing by at events, discussing their level of attractiveness, whether someone would sleep with them, and guessing if they were the age of consent.  

Several times I heard male employees bragging and sharing intimate details about hooking up with players at events, including a cosplayer we worked with in an official capacity. Several male colleagues even asked me to “hook them up” with cosplayers.

When I brought up the inappropriateness of a young League cosplayer having silly-string unexpectedly sprayed across her chest during a video piece by a third party – the gag being that he had ejaculated on her – I was told I was the “comedy police”.

I overheard at least a dozen employees comment on how cosplayers only make costumes for attention and ask “is this even considered a costume?” when a very famous cosplayer recreated a scantily-clad female champion. I showed them that she was one-to-one with the splash art. They begrudgingly conceded that it was an official outfit. This is obviously highly hypocritical.

At least three times Riot Dublin employees made inappropriate comments via work email about a female cosplayer’s breasts (one they regularly worked with).

While in LA, I had a week of very successful meetings with Rioters to help get a new cosplay initiative off the ground. In a recap meeting, I expressed how happy I was that we were creating such great programming for cosplayers. The senior most staff member responded with “Who wouldn’t want to work with cosplayers? Because Boobs.”

During one event, a first-time cosplayer came to our booth crying because someone had commented negatively on her weight in relation to the character. Another coworker and I consoled her for nearly 30 minutes, and she left, feeling much better. After she left, a fellow Rioter called her a “fatass” and asked why she would try to cosplay the character she chose. I was in shock but told him how inappropriate that was to say about our fans, especially those passionate enough to make and wear costumes. Cosplayers have also been called “tr*nnies” and “attention whores” by Riot employees at events.

In meetings, I was told that we shouldn’t put cosplayers on stage to play League live, because they are mostly women, and therefore not very good at the game.

Further examples of disrespect include when I argued that we shouldn’t let a cosplayer in blackface on our stage for a parade, keeping in mind that Riot is a global company. I was repeatedly called racist by my colleagues, who tried to convince me that it was an acceptable practice and I was overreacting.

This is not a comprehensive list. These were only the very specific examples I could draw from when I drafted my resignation letter at Riot. After word got out that I quit, I was contacted by several other women from the office, asking to meet. I was told more horror stories, discovering that some of them had been physically touched, cornered in shared vehicles, and faced professional retaliation for turning down advances. They asked for advice. I told them that they needed to speak up too.

The reason I didn’t share any of this before is because I felt trapped. I am not proud of myself for staying silent. After I quit, I was stranded in Ireland with my entire life in an apartment, no job, no car, and not even a cell phone, as it was immediately taken away from me once I resigned. I needed to get back to the United States somehow. Riot was my best bet, and I worried that if I didn’t agree to their mandates or went public with anything that I’d ruin my chance of getting home. After six months of near-daily misery, I was exhausted. I signed their agreements. I needed to get out. I recognize that I put myself at legal risk by disclosing my experience now. After years of regret and the thought that these practices could still be going on today, affecting countless others who also feel alone and outgunned by a company they were once excited to be a part of,  I am willing to take that risk. I want to work towards a better and more inclusive industry and show solidarity with the other women who have come forward.  

I left Riot feeling like a failure. I felt like I wasn’t tough enough to stick it out or make a positive change at the company.  I had been very public about my new adventure in Ireland, and all I could post about the return home was an agreed upon “culture fit issues’ statement to my social channels. Friends and followers could tell that something was wrong, but I couldn’t expand further.

To be clear, not everything from my time at Riot was negative. I became good friends with several of my co-workers and loved interacting with fans. Riot is a massive company that employs thousands of people. There are going to be women at the company who’ve never experienced sexism or harassment from their colleagues. I am very happy that they have found a safe working space with their particular branches or teams. That being said, these harassment-free experiences don’t invalidate the experiences of women like myself, and the dozens of others I personally met while working at Riot, who struggled with fair and respectful treatment on a daily basis.

The in-depth article on Kotaku and outpouring of other stories from both current and ex-Rioters finally gave me the courage to speak up, despite my concerns about professional or legal ramifications. I should have done this four years ago. I tried to facilitate change while working at Riot and after my departure. I’m hoping the groundswell of voices will now finally cause real, meaningful change within one of the most influential gaming companies in the world.

Two final notes:

To the many good eggs at Riot:  I’ve seen many of your posts. I understand your frustration if you have not been witness to this type of behavior, or experienced it yourself. That being said, you can support your company and the individuals who have come forward. Your anger shouldn’t be directed at the subjects of this abuse and maltreatment, but rather the individuals who perpetuated these acts in the first place. Please keep an eye out for your peers, and hold others accountable for their actions.

To young women hoping to work in gaming: Gaming can be a tough industry, but please don’t let conversations like this drive you away from pursuing your passion. The more we dissect and discuss these situations in a public forum, the more steps we take to making the industry a more inclusive place. As tough as gaming can be, it is equally welcoming and rewarding.

[fspgrad]

This is my Fight Song

Take Back My Life Song...

I wrote the following essay for the course, U.S. & Missouri Governments and Constitution on April 28, 2019. The assignment required students to choose a protest song that resonated with them and explain why.

Uprising by Muse

        I was incarcerated for 16 years in the Florida Department of Corrections. During that time, I was housed at 17 different prisons and correctional institutions; I was at some places for as little as a week, while others 4 and 5 years. Music provided a means for marking time and keeping track of the years as they passed. For example, I will hear a certain song and immediately remember what prison I was at when the song was released. Otherwise, I would be hard pressed to tell someone which prison I was at in a given year. Prison is a place of constant suffering, humiliation, depravation, degradation and oppression. I’ve been bound, beaten, raped, starved, stripped naked and tossed into cells with unbearable temperatures ranging from 30° to 110°F depending on the season. Music and books helped me maintain my sanity by providing my mind with a means of escape. Seldom do you hear of riots in American prisons. That is because prison officials have developed and perfected a system that discourages rioting. Believe me, every prisoner thinks about it or wishes they possessed telekinetic abilities to make a guard’s heart stop or head explode. There is one song that always inspired me when I would hear it on my little AM/FM radio; it is titled Uprising by the band, Muse. This song rallied my spirits and filled me with hope; it gave me the courage and strength to keep pushing forward; and it made me so angry I wanted to walk up to a guard and spit in their face. Of course, had I done that I would still be rotting away in the bowels of Florida State Prison.

        Muse is a British rock band that came on the scene in 1994. The lead singer, Matthew Bellamy has been labeled a 21st century guitar hero and modern-day Mozart by some due to his song writing, vocal range and abilities on the piano and guitar. Uprising is from the band’s fifth studio album titled The Resistance. It mixes orchestral elements with rock and electronic music. Like some of their previous albums, the theme is about political oppression. In an interview with MTV News, Matt Bellamy said he was inspired to write Uprising after witnessing protests to the G20 summit that took place in London in 2009. In the days leading up to the summit, he watched from his residence as police deliberately tried to agitate peaceful protesters into committing acts of violence, so they could find reasons to detain them. There was much unrest in London at the time due to political scandals and abuses by banks and other institutions in the financial sector that had led the country into an economic crisis. Bellamy stated, “everyone felt like they were being ripped off by the powers that be [he] wanted to write a song that summed up that feeling like you’ve been done over by people you’re supposed to trust.”

        Uprising is a song that urges people to stop believing the lies and propaganda being fed to them by governments and powers that be. All the fake news and misinformation is carefully crafted and deliberately fed to the ignorant masses; its intention is to serve as a distraction and keep people from recognizing the true causes of their oppression. One of the song’s lyrics says:

Another promise, another scene, Another package lie to keep us trapped in greed With all the green belts wrapped around our minds And endless red tape to keep the truth confined

        Prison officials use the same diversionary tactics; they implement rules that serve no purpose, they mix individuals they know will not get along, and they constantly make threats that pit inmate against inmate. It works wonderfully. If the inmate population is divided and fighting each other, they are unable to unite and riot against their true oppressors. Most fail to realize that illegal drugs enter the prison system because officials allow it. It’s almost impossible to get Tylenol for a headache, but inmates can pretty much write their own scripts for psychotropic medications. Prison officials don’t feel threatened by someone who is virtually catatonic and rocking back and forth with drool running out the side of their mouth. Another lyric states:

The paranoia is in bloom, the P-R Transmissions will resume They'll try to push drugs That keep us all dumbed down and hope that We will never see the truth around

        Uprising is a song that urges people to stand up for themselves when those in government become self-serving rather than serving the people who have trusted them to govern. When our individual liberties are threatened, revolt is sometimes necessary because governments that go unchecked can become tyrannical. The lose of freedom needs to outweigh one’s fear of death because without freedom, there isn’t much else left to live for. The third and fourth verses of the song go:

Interchanging mind control Come let the revolution take its toll if you could Flick a switch and open your third eye, you'd see that We should never be afraid to die

Rise up and take the power back, it's time that The fat cats had a heart attack, you know that Their time is coming to an end We have to unify and watch our flag ascend

         I mentioned earlier that music provided a great source of comfort to me in prison since it allowed my mind to escape from the cage that confined my physical being. We didn’t have Internet access or CD players. Television and radio were our only sources for music. For many years, I did not know the name of this song nor the band who sang it. The word ‘uprising’ is nowhere in the song’s lyrics. Furthermore, radio deejays are often lousy about giving those details when they play a song. I often became frantic when Uprising played on the radio because I would ask guys who sang it, and no one ever knew. Uprising is considered alternative rock, and most guys in Florida prisons are either country or rap music fans. One guy told me he thought it was the band Muse, but he couldn’t say for sure. One of the first things I did after my release was search YouTube and listen to songs by Muse until I found Uprising. I still listen to it often. I refuse to look back on my years in prison with shame or regret. Prison toughened me up and put iron in my soul; it made me hate bullies and people who strive to oppress the weak; most of all, it taught me to stand up for myself and fight against the evil in this world. Uprising is my fight song; I love the chorus:

They will not force us They will stop degrading us They will not control us We will be victorious 

  Works Cited

Bellamy, Matthew James. "Uprising." The Resistance. Prod. Muse. Warner/Chappell Music, Inc, 2009.

News, MTV. Muse Uprising was Inspired by the G20 Protests. September 25 2009. 25 March 2019. <http://www.mtv.co.uk/muse/news/muse-uprising-was-inspired-by-g20-protests>.

Wilipedia. 2009 G20 London Summit Protests. 27 January 2019. Wikipedia Foundation Inc. 25 March 2019. <https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/2009_G20_London_summit_protests>.

[imaginejamesandsirius]

Hiya! I’m absolutely in love with this page - I have your notifications turned on and everything😊 I’ve never really sent anything like this before so I’m not sure if there’s something else I’m supposed to say or do but could you possibly write something for when Sirius runs away? Where he shows up beaten and bloody on James’ front door in the middle of the night? And preferably have them getting together in it! Could you possibly make it long as well! Thanks!😬

((A/N: Warning for abusive relationship between Sirius and his boyfriend (who’s not James). Nothing on screen, but they do talk about and look at his injuries-- and it’s at the beginning, so be careful)) 

It wasn't out of the ordinary for Sirius to show up on James's doorstep, bruised and bleeding, and James viscerally hated that this was commonplace for them. "Again?" James asked, holding the door open wider so Sirius could step inside. "What does that shithead claim you did this time?"

"Don't be ridiculous, apparently I'm so bad that he doesn't need an official reason anymore." Sirius pulled off his shoes and dropped them in place over his name on the little mat James had made back when he'd thought they were going to be living together. He kept his jacket on, which meant that there was some sort of damage to his torso.

James sighed, closing and locking the door as many ways as he could. "Remind me why you stay with him?"

"He likes me."

"No, I like you. He likes that you let him treat you like shit."

"I don't let him do anything," Sirius argued, a well-worn exchange by this point.

"Then why the fuck do you stay?"

Instead of quipping back that he couldn't possibly leave all his leather jackets behind, he shrunk into the couch.

James paused when reaching for the first aid kit, glancing back at him. He looked so... downtrodden. Normally, despite the fact that he'd just been abused when he showed up like this, he was in something of an upbeat mood. But now he actually was upset. James grabbed the kit and hurried over without trying to make it look like he was hurrying. He didn't succeed, but it was Sirius, so he didn't say anything other than a slight tick up of one of his eyebrows.

Sirius normally had a role in helping James take care of him, but he was still and defeated tonight. James tied back Sirius's hair and tilted his face this way and that to survey what the damage was. "It doesn't look too bad," he muttered. His eyes flickered down at Sirius's shirt. It wasn't covered with blood or anything, but that didn't mean much. Sirius's lip was split, and the blood from it had flowed to make a bit of a mess across his face. There was a bruise blooming across one cheek, and James couldn't tell just by looking, but he would bet that Sirius's scalp was tender. All in all though, that was so mild for what Sirius usually had to deal with that he wouldn't have shown up.

"Take off your shirt."

Sirius hugged his jacket a bit tighter around himself.

"Si."

He didn't budge, but he didn't fight when James curled his hands around Sirius's and gently pried them away. He was able to push the jacket off his shoulders, and that made the hunch of his shoulders all the more obvious. James took special care when taking off Sirius's shirt, afraid of what he would see. He winced at the bruises, but it didn't look like his ribs were broken-- which had happened before.

"Well it doesn't look too bad," he said again.

"It's on m' back," Sirius mumbled.

James peered over his shoulder to see, then sucked in a breath. There were honest to god welts on Sirius's back, long strips with a circular shape at the end that was a hundred times worse than the lines. A belt. James swallowed down the automatic reaction of 'I'm going to kill him' because he didn't think Sirius would appreciate that. He swallowed again as rage coursed through him, and made sure his hands were steady as he took care of him.  

"Why do you stay with him?" James asked again, more serious this time. It had been a rhetorical question in the past, but now he actually wanted to hear what Sirius's reason for it was. He'd done a bit of research and learned that the number one reason that abuse victims didn't leave was because they didn't have a support system. Clearly that wasn't the case here, because even ignoring James, Remus and Peter would definitely help him out. The top reason after that had to do with financials and/or children, but neither of those were a problem for obvious reasons. Mostly that Sirius never wanted kids and had a bank account completely separate from the flaming rubbish pile he called a boyfriend.

Sirius was quiet for a minute before he answered. "You think he doesn't care about me, but he does."

"You don't beat people you care about Sirius." James didn't understand how Sirius could possibly think that after everything that happened with his parents. "Maybe he thinks he cares about you, and let's pretend for a moment that I believe that, but that's still terrible for you, and you have to think about yourself first."

"He-" Sirius stopped, then swallowed, clearly not going to finish what he was about to say.

"What?" James prodded gently, rubbing lightly at Sirius's shoulders which were, thankfully, unmarred.

"He said he'd kill himself," Sirius said quietly. "If I left him. And I know you think he's scum, but he doesn't deserve to die."

James took a minute to process that. It was terrible of him, but his immediate reaction was that if he was hurting Sirius, he did deserve to die. That was just a flash of passion though, a here-and-gone in an instant thought that left him feeling queasy. He was careful when he did reply, not wanting to say the wrong thing. "It's not your fault if he does do that. It's not up to you to keep him alive, and people threatening suicide is a classic manipulation tactic. He guilted you into staying with him, if he cared about you, don't you think that would bother him?"

"I don't think he's bluffing," Sirius said, his voice so small James barely recognised it.

James blinked, hands moving up to Sirius's neck to relieve the tension there. "Okay," he said slowly. "Let's assume, for the moment, that that's true. It still wouldn't be your fault."

"'If you can stop something bad from happening and you don't, you are the evil in the world'," Sirius quoted, and James had never been more upset with himself for sharing that with Sirius when he found it.

"That's not what it meant."

"I disagree." He leaned into James's touch, letting out a little groan of pleasure as James's fingers worked out a knot. "Maybe you're right and he's just manipulating me, but-"

"There's not but, Sirius. Even if he one hundred percent means it, the fact that he told you when you tried to leave means that he's manipulating you."

Sirius quieted again. "I don't think you're being fair."

"I'm trying to take care of you."

"Yeah but you're in love with me." James's hands froze, but Sirius continued to talk. "You're not exactly impartial about this, and you never liked him, even before he started acting shitty. And what's worse is that he knows you never liked him, so he thinks I'm choosing you over him. I mean, I am, but only because he's trying to make me choose in the first place."

"You know?" was all James managed to say. He'd had no idea that Sirius knew about his feelings, and this was definitely not the love confession he'd always dreamed he'd get in return.

"You're not exactly subtle."

James blushed, hands dropping to his lap so that he wasn't touching Sirius anymore. "Sorry." He moved from behind Sirius to the other seat on the sofa.

"No that's- that's not what I meant," Sirius said, turning to look at James with a sad expression on his face. He crawled closer and settled on his knees, arms around James.

James had meant to sit there quietly and take the rejection with grace, but he found himself asking, "Why didn't you say anything? If you knew, why'd you let me make a complete arse of myself?"

"James," Sirius whispered, pressing a kiss to his hair. "That's not what it was."

"I don't understand."

"James, you... you always think so much of me. I didn't want us to get together and you realise that I'm not worth all that."

"You're an idiot. You're worth everything you imagine I think, and so much more. I know you better than anyone, how the hell could I ever be disappointed?"

"Yeah?"

"Of course." James tilted his head to the side to look at him, and Sirius pulled back a little to meet his gaze. "You've never been anything but extraordinary, Si. It's hard to believe you don't know that."

"Well we did establish five seconds ago that I'm an idiot," he said with a half smile.

"You're not actually an idiot, you-" that was all James got out before Sirius was kissing him. He kissed him back, hand going to wind through his hair. They shifted so James was leaning back against the arm of the sofa and Sirius was sitting on his lap, straddling him. His other hand moved to Sirius's hip, his touch gentle but grounding. "What are we doing?" he asked, voice a quiet puff of air between their lips.

"Snogging. Falling in love. Take your pick."

"Those aren't exactly the same."

"Maybe, but they're both true."

James's breath hitched. "Sirius..."

Sirius leaned back in, sealing their mouths together.

"I should head back," Sirius said, some time later.

"We can wait to get your stuff tomorrow, it's late. Hell, I can do it all by myself, you don't need to worry about it."

Sirius frowned. "James, I'm not moving."

"What?"

"I'm not leaving him."

"But you can't be-"

"I don't want to talk about it." Sirius got off his lap and reached for his shirt, gingerly putting it back on. He was even more careful when donning his jacket, and he didn't so much as glance at James the entire time. "We still on for tea with Peter and Remus tomorrow night?"

"...Yeah."

Sirius nodded as he walked to the door, picking his shoes off his little place-mat and shoving them on. "See you round, Jamie."

James watched him leave, then sighed, dropping his head back when the door closed. "What a bloody idiot," he mumbled. He'd actually thought, without any prompting from Sirius, that a few kisses meant he was going to leave his boyfriend and start living with James.  He'd gotten a love confession-- sort of-- and ran with it. No fucking wonder his personal life was a mess right now.

*

Sirius showed up for the group dinner with a bruise at his grinning mouth and a ready lie about how he should know better than to get sloshed at clubs. James gulped down some water and said nothing.

"How's Tim?" Peter asked.

"He's good, sends his love."

"Does he," Peter said flatly.

Sirius paused with his drink halfway to his mouth. "Something you wanna say Pete?"

Peter opened his mouth, but Remus elbowed him and he shut it again. "Guess not. Don't want to ruin the evening, after all."

"That's what I thought."

James knew his quietness was suspicious, but he didn't care. As far as he was concerned, he'd embarrassed himself horribly the night before, not to mention that Sirius was still living with someone that beat him. He wasn't completely silent, but the banter that was expected was simply absent.

Sirius got up to go to the loo, and Remus and Peter rounded on James.

"What happened?"

"Mind your own business Moony."

"We're mates, your business is my business. Well, business adjacent at least, which still means you should tell us what the bloody hell is going on."

"It's personal."

"If it wasn't," Peter said, "then we'd already know about it, so spill your guts Potter."

"Guys," James said, voice turning serious as opposed to the dismissive tone he'd been using before. "It's personal."

"Personal as in you or personal as in Sirius?"

James didn't answer, and Remus went, "Ah. That kind of personal."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"It means," Remus said, staring at James, "that something happened between him and Sirius, and it didn't turn out the way he wanted. The way any of us wanted, to be honest."

"What makes you think it didn't turn out?" James asked even though it was pretty obvious.

"Well for one," Peter said drily, "he would have shown up with you, and with a real smile instead of that plastic one. Also he would have told me that Tim was burning in hell where he belongs. But he didn't. Because they're still together, and he somehow thinks he's not worthy of you or whatever bullshit he's up to these days."

"Does everyone know I fancy him?"

They both nodded. "You should've seen your mum's face when we told her you weren't dating yet," Peter added. "Mighty heartbroken, she was."

"Don't exaggerate."

"I'm not."

James rolled his eyes, not believing him. "Look, I'd prefer if we talk about something else now."

"Believe it or not James, we didn't bring it up to make fun of you," Remus said. "What happened? I kinda thought that if you ever said it to Sirius's face, he'd cave."

"How romantic," James mumbled, chugging the rest of his beer.

"You know what I mean."

James said nothing, because responding hadn't been going all that well for him. "I don't want Sirius to come back to this conversation. So something, anything else."

"You don't want to give me that kind of power," Peter said.

"Right, cause you're so dangerous," Remus teased, an easy smile crossing his face, and James breathed a sigh of relief.

At least until they heard raised voices and looked over to see none other than Tim arguing with the hostess. Sirius exited the toilet, immediately saw him, and walked over to try and calm him down. "Stay here," James told his friends as he got to his feet, making his way across the restaurant towards the hostess's podium.

Tim was an all around cunt. So it wasn't really surprising that he looked on the verge of getting physical in front of god and everyone, just because she was telling him that he wasn't allowed to go wandering through the restaurant aimlessly-- because he had, of course, neglected to mention the one thing that would have let him get through: he was looking for his boyfriend. By now she knew what was going on, but Tim had his temper lit and wasn't just walking out or apologising like a reasonable person would.

Sirius was tugging on his sleeve, trying to talk some sense into him. Needless to say, it wasn't working.

"Is there a problem?" James asked, careful to keep his voice neutral. It didn't help anything. Cause Tim's an arse.

He sneered at James.

Now James wasn't entirely sure the exact phrasing of what he said about Sirius because Tim mumbled, but it made him see red. "Don't talk about him like that."

"He's a bitch that can't keep it in his trousers--"

And that's how James got kicked out of a restaurant and ended up in jail with bruised knuckles. It was a little embarrassing since he hadn't been thrown in jail since he turned twenty three, but he was completely unrepentant. They had enough sense to put him and Tim in different cells, and he was a little confused as to why Tim was arrested at all. He'd been a little out of it at the time, basically just trying to not lose his temper anymore than he already had and get in trouble for accidentally assaulting an officer.

Tim's face was becoming unrecognizable, and James took a demented sort of glee in that, even as he tried not to look at him too often. Mostly James sat there, arms crossed over his chest and head resting against the wall behind him. Everyone else in the room was just as content to ignore them.

They all looked towards the door when it opened, and an officer entered, followed by Sirius. Tim shot James a victorious look, and James rolled his eyes. If Sirius was here, James was getting out. He was probably here for Tim as well which was a shame, but James could understand that, since they were living together. 'Understand' as in he knew that it would make sense, not that he liked it or agreed with it.

The door to James's cell opened, and the officer pointed at him. "You, come on."

James got to his feet, accepting his wallet and keys when Sirius handed them over. The officer started to leave without going to let Tim out, something the steaming pustule obviously noticed. "Wait!"

They paused, as a group, and turned to look at him out of habit.

"Sirius, are you really not going to get me out? I'm your boyfriend."

Sirius snorted. "No, you're an ex that can go to hell. By the time you're out, all my things will be gone."

Tim started to say something, but it wasn't going to be anything good, so James grabbed Sirius's hand and hurried them out of there. James didn't say anything until they were out of the station other than, "Thanks for bailing me out."

"Yeah no problem."

James turned to Sirius in the mostly empty parking lot. "Since when did you break up with him?"

"You just saw it," Sirius said, giving James a half-smile.

"Are you serious?"

His face widened into a grin. "Always."

"Well- shit we have to go get your stuff, they're not going to leave him in there more than one night."

"That's all you have to say about it?"

"I-" James glanced at Sirius out of the corner of his eye. "Well I didn't want to assume."

Sirius laughed, shaking his head. The purple of the bruise on his face looked colorful under the streetlight, and James's heart swelled with the knowledge that this was the absolute last time he'd have to see Sirius like that.

"Are you going to find your own place or are you staying with me?" James had meant to present it like he thought both ideas were great options, but he knew that that was not how it came across.

It didn't matter though, because Sirius slung an arm over his shoulders and pressed a kiss to his cheek as he steered them towards his car. "With you, of course. If you'll have me."

"Of course I will, don't be ridiculous."

There was a pause as they got into the car and pulled out of the parking lot. "Just so I know, are we talking normal flatmates or... boyfriends?"

"I guess that's up to you. We both know what I want."

"My choice?" Sirius asked.

"Yeah."

"Then boyfriends."

"I would kiss you, but you're driving."

"I appreciate your restraint," Sirius said, amused.

James got out his phone and texted Remus and Peter, letting them know what was up-- and kinda demanding their help. "You should since we're not going to be able to do anything until we have all your things."

"Nonsense," Sirius said, then didn't elaborate on what that meant for the rest of the drive. James found out what he meant though, when they pulled into the flat's lot and he parked, then leaned over and kissed him in a way that made James's stomach flop pleasantly.