#to an audience of absolutely fucking no one

[docmothra]

Sometimes the generic republican racism is a lead-in to being Actually a Nazi

Like my school was full of people who started off with 'gay people are the devil actually' and then after they established that as a norm they started posting anti-Jew bs

And I think sometimes people are trying to shoot that down before it gets steam

But I think until someone explicitly says something against the Jews it's more effective and accurate to call them a little bitch than to call them a nazi

Cus if u call them a nazi they can say "um actually I didn't literally say hitler was right"

What they gonna do if u call them a little bitch

"um actually I'm not a little bitch"? Mhm sure dude. Sounds like what a little bitch would say

If u take one thing. Like terf shit or anti gay bullying or racism or whatever. And you say 'um technically this is wrong because um (checks notes) hitler would do it'

You are removing the reason the thing is wrong from the thing itself and using the reputation of a different evil to condemn it instead

Which is. In addition to fucking up the language to talk about that different evil. So not compelling at all

Because it's so much easier to argue to an onlooking audience that, say, calling a trans girl slurs is not the same as being hitler. Than to argue to that audience that calling a trans girl slurs is innately a good thing and not bad. So if you hinge the evil of slurs on it's connection to the evil of hitler u give a lever for ur opponent to convince the audience that slurs are not being literally hitler and so slurs must not be that bad.

Like,

This is also how evangelical republicans get caught in weird traps

Because they hinge a lot of arguments on 'well, technically abortion is murder, and technically porn is adultery, and technically forcing me to bake a wedding cake is the same as rounding Christians up and throwing them in the lions den', like

Stop it with the technically!

Is it true that hitler oppressed queer people? Fuck yeah it is use that as a hook or a red flag to question what a little bitch's true motives are all day. 'hey, this guy is a dick to these minorities. I wonder who else he would be a dick to if he had a chance.'

Will it help you in an argument? Fuck no it won't ur gonna look like an apologeticist rehearsing their darn argument on how the planet earth is like a pocketwatch and therefore u shouldn't believe in evolution.

A little bitch is happy to lose a fight if it means u cede implicit ground by fighting in the battlefield they set. The correct answer to "have you stopped beating your wife yet?" Isn't "yes" or "no". It's "fuck you, I never started in the first place". And in the same way, the right answer to "why would trans people deserve respect?" Is not "well, hitler disrespected trans women.......", it's "because all human beings deserve respect by default you absolute jackass".

End rant

Idk much about antisemitism but boy howdy can I get going about rhetoric at least

I know everything that can be said on this topic has been said to death and no one but Jews will ever acknowledge it but it is still absolutely infuriating how every brand of gentile from every part of the political spectrum has collaborated to turn the word "Nazi" into a generic word for "fascist" or "bad person" or "person I don't like." Nazism isn't just fucking fascism and it isn't a synonym for bad person. It's a specific ideology that is centered at its root around blaming Jews for every problem in the world and wanting to exterminate them.

No, generic racist Republicans are not "Nazis." No, TERFs are not "Nazis." No, your crappy corrupt European leader is not a "Nazi." No, cops are not "Nazis." You know why they aren't Nazis? Because their entire ideology and behavior, as harmful as it may be to certain groups, is not centered around hating JEWS.

Nazism is an ideology centered around hating JEWS. Other people and groups may be caught in the crossfire, but ultimately, a Nazi's goal is to exterminate Jews, and you cannot just ignore that! I read a 12 paragraph essay yesterday written by a gentile analyzing the reasons people in Nazi Germany flocked to Nazism, and antisemitism wasn't mentioned as a motivation even once! They thought it was all because of gender norms and sexual repression! Oh my god!

The comfort with which gentiles have near universally divorced Nazism from antisemitism in colloquial speech is a direct precursor to the separation of Nazism from antisemitism in academic discourse. It's a direct predecessor to the rise of institutionalized antisemitism that we are seeing happen in real time now, because you have all gotten so used to appropriating Jewish trauma and Jewish oppression to the extent that you have convinced yourselves it isn't even uniquely real. That antisemitism doesn't exist as a specific bigotry that stands on it's own, that antisemitism is always some kind of footnote tied to some other, more important form of oppression. Do you think that Jews don't see what is happening here, that we don't see the deliberate generalization of Jew hatred and appropriation of the language we can use to refer to it? Jewish trauma becomes everyone's trauma, Jewish oppression becomes everyone's oppression, and soon enough the world at large has stolen the language of Jewish oppression right out of our mouths, until huge swaths of people can say "Jews are the new Nazis" and not see anything absurd about that at all.

Because you won't. Fucking. Acknowledge. What Nazism actually is. You won't fucking acknowledge that any ideology is specifically targeted at JEWS, and not YOU. Stop it!! Stop it! Cut it the fuck out. Nazism cannot be divorced from antisemitism and the insistence that it not only can be but MUST be by gentiles just shows how deeply ignorant and biased against Jews most of you really are.

[rookthebird]

s1 fic where Viktor goes to a doctor who's not his usual during an emergency, explains he needs an extra dose of medication because he needs to help his partner cut the ribbon on a Hexgate, and gets hit with the Martha Mitchell effect.

From Wikipedia: "The Martha Mitchell effect occurs when a medical professional labels a patient's accurate perception of real events as delusional, resulting in misdiagnosis." Martha Mitchell was a Watergate whistleblower who was deemed delusional; a modern equivalent might be Kam Brock, a woman who was hospitalized after a car crash, mentioned she was a banker and that Obama followed her on Twitter (both true) and got forcibly hospitalized for over a week, as well as many chronic illness patients who are hospitalized when doctors don't believe their symptoms (warning: harm to children at link)

So: Viktor stumbling into an urgent care clinic on the way to watch Jayce unveil their latest invention. He's slurring his words and his accent is stronger than usual (drunk, the doctor notes down,) he's pale, sweaty, and feels like he can't breathe (anxiety, the doctor writes,) and he's worried about how much pain he's in (ZAUNITE ADDICT, underlined twice in big block letters.)

viktor gets pissed. he didn't deal with everything he survived at the academy, in his career, and from other idiots to be treated like this. he starts playing the "respectfully, do you have any idea who I am," card because this is bullshit.

now he's in a cop van, coughing up blood. that's that medical gaslighting espresso. getting brought to a psychiatric ward in handcuffs because he said he was one of the founders of hextech? all right, he's not the one on the posters, and he doesn't give as many interviews, but surely this is a bit excessive.

meanwhile jayce is pacing backstage. the investors are urging him to say a few words, but he's like "I can't do this, not without Viktor here. He would never miss this- what if something happened to him?" he stalls for 10 minutes in front of an audience, watching every entrance to see if Viktor is able to make it. slowly, it becomes clearly that Viktor isn't coming. something clearly happened to him.

Jayce drops his notes and bolts.

He knows the exact route Viktor would need to take to get here and everywhere he might have stopped along the way. Bribing some children playing hopscotch in the street reveals that "the man with the strange walk went into the doctor's office, and then the Enforcers went in too!"

Jayce is about to make Vi look like the absolute fucking model of judgement and restraint.

[therealcocoshady]

Love Game - Part 3

A/N : After MONTHS of waiting… here is Love Game pt3 ! For those of you who weren’t there, you can find the first 2 chapters in the Masterlist (pinned post on my blog !).

If it weren’t for Denaun and his wisdom, you would have told Marshall to go to hell. Or rather, you would have sent him there yourself. After all, you weren’t exactly short on ideas how to kill him. You went over them in great detail as you vented to Denaun about his friend’s audacity. This lack of trust and complete disregard for the friendship you’d shared was enough for you to consider raising that baby on your own, but your best friend advised you against it. « We both know you’d come to regret your decision, Y/N » he said calmly over dinner, trying to level with you. You looked at him, crossing your arms, frankly pissed that he was siding with Marshall. « Oh, so you think it’s ok that he called me a slut?! Me, the mother of his child ?!» you asked with a glare. Denaun shook his head again, not backing down. « I’m not saying it’s ok. What I’m saying is : you’re a great mom and you want what’s best for this baby. And you do want them to know their father, don’t you? ». His tone was extremely calm, and he was annoyingly good at making valid points that didn’t go your way. « Well, if he thinks I’m such a whore, I don’t see why he would want to co-parent anyway » you mumbled.

It was clear that you were hurt, and that the few weeks that had passed since the confrontation hadn’t done anything to soften the blow. Denaun seemed to understand it, as he took your hand and looked not your eyes. « You have every reason to be mad. Hell, if you need me to say it out loud, I will : he’s an asshole. But you know as much as I do that, once he has proof that you’re carrying his baby, he will be a good father for this child. And your little one deserves to grow up, knowing who their dad is. It’s all about the baby». You looked down and nodded. As much as you wanted to make a point and prove that, if need be, you’d be an excellent single mom. But ultimately, he was right : it wasn’t about you. It was about the little one. You grabbed his hand and gave him a smile, full of gratitude. « Thank you, Nauny. I don’t know about the dad, but the baby is very lucky to have you as an uncle ». He gave your hand a gentle squeeze and looked into your eyes with the utmost seriousness. « I’ll always be there for you, Y/N. Both of you ».

You weren’t sure whether it was the hormones or just a regular emotional reaction to his kindness, but you couldn’t help the tears from welling in your eyes. « I don’t know what I would do without you, Nauny » you sighed. « You know… Sometimes, I wish you were the father ». He stared at you, staying silent for a couple of seconds. « Yeah, well… I’m not the one you took home that night » he sighed. You nodded, rolling your eyes. « That’ll teach me. No more fucking around with friends » you hummed before taking another bite of your burger, rather oblivious to the look of despair on your friend’s face.

A week later, the results came in : as predicted, the baby was, indeed, Marshall’s. To be fair, you had absolutely no doubt whatsoever regarding the matter. If they’d been any different, you would have been quick to fly to the Vatican and ask for an audience with the Pope so that your name was officially added to the Bible. You weren’t exactly fond of the idea of talking to Marshall directly so you arranged for the results to be sent to him in the mail, not even bothering with a letter or note. After all, the results spoke for themselves and all that was left was for him to eat his words. That same day, he called you and, though you debated for a quick second, you ended up taking the call. « Hey. It’s me. I, um…. I got the results » he said. « Right » you said in a tone that was as neutral as you could muster. « Are you… Are you free on Friday? We should talk. » he hummed rather awkwardly. « There’s nothing special to say for now, Marshall » you replied. « That baby isn’t due for another 22 weeks. Somehow, I don’t think there’s much for you to do, right now». You heard him let out a loud sigh on the other end of the line, and you could tell he was trying really hard not to go off on you. « We’re going to be parents. Both of us. Together. I think it’s actually important that we have a talk. So that we can… Prepare » he explained. You stayed silent for a couple of seconds, debating whether or not you were in the mood to do the right thing. But ultimately, the rational part of you brain, in which Denaun’s words were still echoing, ended up winning. « As you wish. My place. Friday. 6PM. Don’t be late ».

When Friday came around, you were thankful that Denaun had agreed to be with you. Somehow, you figured that the mention of you murdering Marshall was what convinced him, rather than the excuse of you needing emotional support. You knew your friend wasn’t keen on being caught in the middle of you and your baby daddy but, as much as you wished there was a way you could spare him, he was the person closest to you, the only one you confided in. When Marshall walked into your apartment and saw Denaun, he immediately froze. As far as you knew, they were on good terms, but he clearly wasn’t expecting him there. He quickly dapped him and looked at you with a confused frown. « You asked him here? » he asked in disbelief. You had promised Denaun that you’d be on your best behavior but you couldn’t help but clap back. « Well, unlike some people, Denaun has been here from the start. I trust him when it comes to the important decisions » you replied coldly. You could see Denaun stare at you disapprovingly, silently telling you off. Marshall sighed and shrugged. « Well, since we’re getting straight to the point… I have paperwork for us to go over » he said.

Your eyes opened a little wider. Paperwork. Seriously ? You gestured for him to sit on the couch and waited, as he handed you a small stack of paper. The first form was a non-disclosure agreement. As soon as you saw the title, you handed it back to him, absolutely refusing to have anything to do with it. « First you doubt my honesty and now what ? You decide to keep the baby a secret ?! » you exclaimed before turning to Denaun. « I gave it a try, Nauny. I really did. But if you think I’m going to-» you began yelling before Marshall interrupted you. « Will you just shut up and fucking read before you start screaming? » he asked in exasperation before continuing. « It’s not about keeping the baby a secret. I mean, of course, I want them to have privacy but I’m not going to hide the fact that they’re mine ! Who do you think I am ? Drake ?! It’s just standard procedure, so that nothing about our relationship as co-parents ends up in the media. My lawyers insisted ». You glared at him and took another look at the NDA. « Of course. You questioned my honesty in the first place. Why wouldn’t you think I’m after money ? » you scoffed. He stared at you in silence and rolled his eyes. « Again. Lawyers. Not me. Not that you care » he sighed, before glancing at Denaun. « I don’t know how or even why you put up with her. She’s fucking crazy » he mumbled. Your friend crossed his arms and looked at the two of you. « Stop. Both of you. You’re acting like children. You’re grown-ass adults, about to have a kid together, have some shame ! Marshall, you better show Y/N some respect. She’s carrying your baby ! And you, Y/N, you need to stop painting him as a villain. You guys obviously liked each other enough to mess around in the first place. So how about you show some of that appreciation when it comes to dealing with the consequences ?! » he thundered.

Both you and Marshall stared at him in silence, obviously not used to any outburst coming from Denaun. You stared down, while Marshall glanced sideways. « Now, I’m going to let you handle this as grownups and future parents. If you need me, I’ll be in the kitchen. And I better not hear any yelling » he threatened before leaving the room. The silence remained for a couple of minutes, before Marshall let out a sigh. « Look, it’s just… I told Paul about the baby, alright ? And he figured that paperwork might help figure out things. If it’s any comfort, it also states I’m not allowed to slander you or mention you in any track. And the rest… it’s just formalities. Like ensuring my name is on the birth certificate, making sure I have a legal right to see the baby, and that I give you child support » he calmly explained. You looked at him and nodded. « Alright » you said as you started to peruse the forms. « Denaun’s right, you know ? We need to act like… adults » he hummed, to which you nodded. « I know. It’s just not easy when the other co-parent pisses you off » you quietly replied. « But I suppose we’ll need to get used to it ». He let out a chuckle and leaned back in the couch as you read the forms. « Yeah, I guess ». When you finished going through the paperwork, you looked at him and sighed. « So… that’s what you wanted to do ? Paperwork? » you asked. « Mostly. I also wanted to know how you were doing. If the baby’s ok, or if you need something » he said. You hummed quietly, wondering if it your interactions would always have the same clinical and official undertone from now on. « Let’s see… Still nauseous but it’s definitely better. Craving for Italian, lately, if that’s of any interest. And, um… I have another ultrasound coming up. Other than that, that’s pretty much it » you reviewed. He thoughtfully nodded, as if he were making some mental note, though you weren’t too sure how that might concern him directly.

You made small talk for a bit and ended up calling Denaun back to the living room. As he walked in, he stared at both you and Marshall with a stern look on his face, much like a parent willing to make sure their kids had behaved as directed. « Everything alright? » he asked in an inquisitive tone. Both of you glanced at each other and nodded. « Yeah we’re good », Marshall assured him. « I should probably get going. Do you want to come by the studio later ? I’ve got beats ». Your friend looked at you and scratched the back of his head. « I would have loved to, man, but we made reservations for that Italian place Y/N is obsessed with, these days » he replied apologetically. Marshall paused for a second and hummed. « Right. Well… see you around, Y/N. And uh… you’ll call me if you need anything, right? ». You nodded and gave him a tentative smile. « I mean, sure. But unless you’re willing to hold my hair when I puke, I don’t think there’s much for you to do, you know? » you replied. He stared at you intently, his eyes going from your face to your belly, and shrugged. « Well, yeah, but… I don’t know. Like… if you have updates ? » he asked awkwardly.

The whole thing seemed haphazard. If a stranger were to walk in the room, they wouldn’t have been able to tell you and Marshall had ever been so… intimate. In that moment, it felt like you were two strangers learning to communicate. You but your lip, the realization being rather painful. After all, before all of this, he had been one of your favorite people on earth. Why he had turned his back on you this way, you weren’t too sure… but now, you didn’t have much choice, and you needed to do your best to mend things. Even though it felt like you weren’t at fault. You gave him a smile before grabbing an envelope from your handbag. « I don’t know if you… uh… I can show you the latest ultrasound if you’d like? » you offered. At your words, his eyes opened a little wider and he blinked even faster than usual. « Yeah. Ok. » he nodded. He got closer and you showed him the closest thing you had to a picture of your baby. You tentatively pointed the shadows on it. « So, here, there’s the head. And over there, that’s an arm » you explained. He seemed kind of fascinated by it, much to your surprise. « That’s really crazy » he whispered. You could see a smile form on Denaun’s face as he encouraged you, while Marshall was focused on the picture. « Do you want to keep it? » you offered. « Can I? » Marshall asked. « Yeah, sure. I have copies ». He grabbed the picture from your hand and carefully placed it in his pocket, before staring at you. « Thanks, Y/N » he said in a solemn tone. He leaned forward and, for a second, you almost thought he was going to hug you or kiss your cheek. But instead, he patted your shoulder in a way that made you wonder if he had actually ever interacted with a human being before. You even noticed Denaun raising an eyebrow. He went to dap Denaun and, before he left, you had to ask an important question.

« Uh, Marshall ? » you called as he stepped in the hallway. « Yeah? » he asked. « You… you said you were going to legally acknowledge the baby as yours, right? » you questioned nervously, to which he nodded, as if the answer was evident. « I mean, yeah. I think it’s what’s best » he replied, visibly wondering where this was getting. You thoughtfully hummed and bit your lip. « So…don’t you think we should tell the other guys in the group as well? ».

[guess-that-ship]

S13: Badly Describe Your Ship Round 4

Woops, accidental fucking

cw: suggestive

Imagine, if you will, you try to steal a guy's organ. He is extremely aroused by your first attempt. He gives you permission to steal it and he almost dies. He lives! He tells your to try and take another one. He gets outed as a freak on national television. They invite you on said show and you tell him you like him and think he's special, and that you cherish that moment. He blushes and tells you he wants to keep in touch, and you do

Gay and gayer

Characterized by homoerotic tension that alternates between violent, softly devoted, and absolutely hilarious depending on the situation. Dumbass 1 cradles dumbass 2’s face in his hands as dumbass 2 is dying and promises he won’t let him die with the most emotion the audience has ever seen on his face and then risks his life to save him but it’s totally platonic of course. It was also totally platonic when one of them tried to kiss the other. Obviously.

[nervouswhizkid]

i. am so mad. i'm mad at season 4 and at every one of you that interacted with my last post abt vld season 3. i know u were all sitting there giggling at me as i walked into s4 knowing full well it was going to destroy me. no WARNING??? i don't even want to sit down and write about it, i'm gonna start crying all over again

i hate that keith left the team. i have to actually practice breathing techniques right now because it's making me so mad omg. i know i said last time that voltron without lance was unthinkable, but i didn't mean that keith should leave. THAT IS NOT WHAT I WANTED!!!! that also means that there was less keith (and klance) content this season, which i take personally. they did that to hurt me specifically. and on top of that, the team was being so mean about keith's wavering priorities. i feel like when anything goes wrong, with lance and keith specifically, everyone is so mean to them??? god forbid they make a mistake or have personal struggles, DAMN

i feel like this screencap says it all.

guys how about let's talk to each other instead of being passive aggressive and icing people out (i do want to point out though that lance seems more sad/disappointed here than anything. my little klance heart is breaking 😭) AND THIS SCENE??

the moment i realized keith was about to walk in my stomach dropped. they all look so angry and here comes Mister Puppy Eyes McGee. i actually can't take it that's my son everyone leave him alone!!! 🤺🤺🤺🤺 i know they had a big group hug after but that's not good enough for me, they should have tied keith up or handcuffed him to the ship, or something. WHY ARE WE LETTING HIM GO WITH THE BLADE OHMYGODDDD

look at this, like??

the camera setup is what gets me. you have keith smiling with all of his friends in the background and then it swaps to a dark, yawning hallway with the most heartbreaking frown on his face. that doesn't look like someone sure of their decisions to me. this boy is in pain!! i'm also just confused about shiro being able to pilot the black lion. maybe confused isn't the right word, but i'm not sure how to describe it. i'm not convinced?? black already denied him, so why now? i kinda feel like it would've been better had he not tried to reconnect with her at the end of last season, because there was no suspense for me this time. the moment he decided to go try again i was like "oh it's gonna work this time isn't it" i get that it's likely black could sense keith's internal struggles and feel him pulling away and maybe that's why she gave shiro a second chance, but shiro becoming the black paladin again gave keith the excuse to leave, because why do they need him now? they have a black paladin, and it's not him. but to me, it should have been. he went through all of that growth last season, and for what?? just to abandon them when things get rocky?? ugh, i hate this!!

i can't even talk about episode 2 without crying, so just know that i'm sitting here with tears streaming down my face as i write this. i was really excited to finally get some closure on the whole pidge-missing-family mystery, considering that's been a subplot since the beginning of the show. as much as this episode broke my heart, i really did love it. they executed it so well. the scene where pidge lands on that planet with the graves? and they're running and pleading for it to not be true, all the flashbacks of cherished memories and images of matt? dropping to her knees in front of his grave in disbelief??

now that's fucking cinema. you best believe i was bawling my eyes out the whole time. i have a little sister and our relationship is very similar to pidge and matt's, so this was just excruciating. i'm very glad he wasn't actually dead, but part of me almost wishes he was? that sounds SO dark, i hope you guys get what i mean. they just put the audience through the absolute wringer and then they're like "oh, actually he's still alive LOL gotcha!" and that makes me really happy for pidge, but man, what a plot twist that would have been. they've been searching for their brother all this time, so you expect some kind of payoff for dedicating so much time to that storyline, but what if he was just dead?? and there was nothing she could do?? wow this is painful to talk about why did i start watching this show if there's a fic where someone explores that possibility then pls share, for some reason i want to torture myself again, i just love how they did this episode. it's very trope-y, but sometimes you just have to lean into it and enjoy, and this was one of those times

the classic fighting-each-other-unknowingly and middle-of-the-fight-identity-reveal? i'll eat it up every time!!

real talk though why is matt so attractive 😏

soo, zarkon is back. fantastic. do he and haggar just not care about each other?? they haven't mentioned the fact that they're married at all and haggar basically still acts like his loyal follower. i'd entertain the thought that maybe it's been so long that it just doesn't really matter to them anymore, but haggar sounded like she actually cared when she realized they were husband and wife last season. but now it's like nothing happened?? i don't expect them to act all lovey-dovey, but there wasn't even a single line of acknowledgment. and i still cannot understand what lotor's plans are. what is his agenda? he wasn’t bothered at all by zarkon reclaiming the throne, and even went to the trouble to make them think he cared. he got that comet and made a couple of ships, but i still don't know what he plans to do with them. also– i can't believe he killed narti!! i know, i was literally just talking about how she specifically frustrated me, but i was so not expecting their death. i get why he did it, but now the rest of his group doesn't trust him.

i'd say that the one bright spot in this season was episode four. that episode was just so silly and gave me so much secondhand-embarrassment i actually had to look away at times LMAO is this where we got the whole Loverboy Lance and Lone Wolf Keith thing from?? i thought that was purely fandom-made, i was not expecting to hear that in an actual episode. talk about whiplash. and we got this ICONIC scene:

he did that wayyy too naturally. lance, buddy, got anything to share?

i really would have loved to see keith with the team during that episode. i can just imagine how he would've reacted to having to do all of that stuff. god, that would've been hysterical!! the images of the parasite in coran's brain made me gag though, was that really necessary🧍‍♀️

i don't have a ton to say about the final episodes. i mean, it was two episodes of them fighting on naxzela. it was definitely a bit of an avengers endgame feeling with all people they helped in previous seasons showing up to fight, so that was cool! i'm curious as to what purpose naxzela served to the galra empire though. were they always planning to use it as a bomb? and couldn't they still do that technically? they only broke the witches connection with it, so all they'd have to do is get another ship out there and she could do it again. what do you even do with a planet like that?? just destroy it?? i also just want to point out that lance said they should get out of there immediately, and nobody listened!! and then five seconds later they were like "oh no, we need to get out of here!" justice for lance i stg ohmygod and LOTOR is on their side now?!?!?! i actually can't wait to see how this plays out!! total transparency, i love atla and i could absolutely see this being a zuko redemption arc situation. it's clear his parents don't like him at all (are they actually heartless or something??) so why not join the other side!! I'M HERE FOR IT

i have to be honest, this definitely wasn't my favorite season. we're getting into the later seasons and i've heard plenty about how the writing goes a little left-field (though i'm not sure when that happens. most people seem to agree season 8 is shit, but i've heard complaints about s6-7 as well) so we'll just have to see! i'm sticking it out as best i can🚶‍♀️‍➡️ onto season 5!

[dystopicjumpsuit]

Dark Things are to be Loved - Part 1

A/N: This fic is dedicated to my dear friend @clonethirstingisreal. Happy birthday, Carol! A gigantic thank you for hyping me up and letting me scream about Savage in your DMs while I was writing this fic; I couldn’t have written it without you.

Pairing: Bodyguard!Savage Opress x Reader (Fem; has hair and wears a dress)

Fic Rating: M (mature content intended for readers 18+; minors DNI) Note: there’s no smut in this chapter, but it is absolutely intended for an adult audience, as it deals with heavy themes. 

Wordcount: 2.5k

Fic Warnings and Tags: angst; language; toxic, controlling, and possessive behavior; discussions of violence and violent ideation; Reader is in a deeply unhealthy relationship with Maul; allusions to abuse; infidelity but it’s complicated; Savage is down bad, but he’s still a Sith and acts like one.

Chapter Warnings and Tags: jealousy; pining; violent ideation; allusions to drug use; collaring; misogynistic language from an antagonist; negative self-image.

Summary: After months of serving as your bodyguard, Savage is at his breaking point.

Suggested Listening:

This fic smells like: Jasmin Rouge by Tom Ford (heady, rich floral jasmine)

Next chapter | Masterlist | Sign up for my tag list

I love you as certain dark things are to be loved,

in secret, between the shadow and the soul.

-Pablo Neruda, “Love Sonnet XVII”

A Shadow Collective party could be described in a great many ways, but understated and restrained were not among them. Hundreds of guests had assembled in a commandeered villa overlooking the sea on some planet whose name Savage didn't have time to commit to memory. It didn't matter. They would move on soon enough, and nothing would be left in their wake but chaos and ruination.

The ballroom was packed, hazy with smoke, and unbearably hot. High above the crowd, a troupe of Pantoran aerial dancers writhed and undulated, their naked bodies glistening with sweat and glitter as they dangled from long swathes of shimmersilk in a display that was as impressively athletic as it was erotic. 

Nor were they the night's only entertainment. A Devaronian fire dancer was set up near the throne, spinning torches with dexterity and skill. If Savage hadn't been otherwise occupied, he would have started a betting pool on how long it would take some drunken fool to stray too close and get their ass lit on fire. As it was, he had no interest in the fire dancer, nor in the various other performers who were set up on small stages with poles throughout the ballroom, dancing in varying states of undress.

His attention was focused on someone far more fascinating.

His eyes tracked you closely as you wove through the throngs of guests. He stayed far enough away to not be driven out of his mind by your scent, but close enough to tear the arms off anyone who dared to touch you. He doubted anyone would be so suicidal, even under the influence of the spice that hung densely in the air. 

Pykes. Black Sun. Hutts. Death Watch. They were all present, and every one of them knew you belonged to Maul.

Even if they hadn’t recognized you as mistress to the lord of the Shadow Collective, they could not miss the sheer black and red shimmersilk gown he’d dressed you in—its plunging neckline deliberately chosen to frame the heavy, ornate gold necklace around your throat, just as the high slits in the skirt were chosen to display tantalizing glimpses of your legs. 

“Look,” the dress screamed, even as the necklace whispered, “but do not touch.”

Maul’s colors. 

Maul’s collar. 

Savage hated it.

He’d seen the marks it left on your skin: indentations deep enough to remind you of its weight even when you took it off. The first time he’d seen them, he’d nearly lost control and touched you. His fingers ached to brush across your neck; to soothe your angry, irritated skin; to feel your softness and warmth. Your neck was made to be kissed, not collared like a fucking pet.

But you belonged to his brother, and Savage had no right to touch you. In the months since Maul had ordered him to guard you, Savage had watched, always from afar, always careful to maintain his distance, never trusting himself enough to get too close. 

It should have been easy. It would have been easy, if only you’d been just another pretty face, another fawning sycophant jockeying to ingratiate yourself with Maul. Force knew there was no shortage of such beings simpering their way through the Shadow Collective. Any of them would have happily jumped into bed with Savage for the opportunity to get close to his brother.

He knew, because he’d taken full advantage of their ambitions.

But not you.

In truth, Savage wasn’t entirely certain what you saw in Maul that had made you agree to be his mistress in the first place. But he knew exactly what Maul saw in you. The perfect hostess; the perfect trophy. Brilliant, captivating, and beautiful. A prize to be displayed. 

A possession. 

Even now, as Maul surveyed the crowd from his throne on the dais, you circulated through the stifling, oppressive room, charming the powerful crime lords who’d assembled for the night’s revelry. They looked at you and saw Maul’s show pony. None of them noticed that there was something fragile—almost brittle—about your beauty that night. But Savage noticed. His keen eyes spotted the subtle evidence of stress and fatigue: the tension in the graceful line of your shoulders; the hint of darkness beneath your eyes that makeup couldn’t quite conceal; the slightly strained quality of your smile.

“She’s wasted on that freak.” The words bore the sibilant tones of a Pyke. “I’d like to get my hands on her and show her what a real man can do.”

“Don’t let the beast hear you say that,” their companion tittered. “Do you see the way it watches her?”

“Fifty credits says it does more than just guard her body.”

“I’m not high enough to take a bet I know I’ll lose,” the second Pyke retorted. “Toss your credits to the brute, and maybe it’ll let you have a round with her.”

Savage didn’t need to tear his gaze from you to know the identity of the speakers. He could sense them in the Force. The thought of removing their heads on the spot was remarkably tempting, but he restrained himself with some difficulty. He would deal with them after the party, when everyone was flying too high on spice to hear their screams. There wasn’t a single guest room in the villa that he couldn’t access, and they all had balconies overlooking the ocean. Very convenient for disposing of corpses.

The Pyke was wrong. Maul hadn’t let his lack of certain anatomy stand in his way when it came to you, based on the sounds of pleasure that made Savage’s stomach twist and churn as he stood guard outside your bedchamber every time his brother visited you. No one could accuse him of lacking imagination. 

When Maul would emerge, hours later, his smirk revealed that he knew exactly what Savage had heard, and that he wanted it that way. Savage was content to let his brother think he merely craved your body. It was safer than letting him discover the truth.

Because the truth was that Savage awoke early each morning to ensure the servants made your caf exactly the way you liked. The truth was that every day since he’d discovered your favorite flowers, a fresh bouquet had been delivered to your bedroom. The truth was that he knew your scent well enough to identify it in a room filled with hundreds of people. The truth was that he dreamed of the color of your eyes and woke up rigid and aching with need. The truth was that if he ever touched you, he might lose his mind and do something insane, like telling you that he saw your face when he closed his eyes; that when he prayed, it was you he named as his goddess; that he would bathe the galaxy in fire and destruction only for the chance to kneel at your feet.

The truth was that he hated that fucking necklace.

Even now, he saw the way it dug into your soft, delicate skin, the weight of it pressing down on your neck. It was too tight, and he wondered how you could even breathe. Had Maul had it altered to fit so tightly? It wouldn’t surprise him. The gaudy, flashy gold was to remind everyone else in the room who you belonged to, but the weight, the discomfort—those were just for you.

 Savage was not so lost in thought that he didn’t notice you working your way strategically toward the wide doors that led to the terrace overlooking the villa’s expansive gardens. As you neared the exit, he drifted toward you, navigating the crowd with surprising ease, considering the number of guests who were already so wasted that they barely knew their own names.

He glanced toward the throne where Maul sprawled with a look of boredom on his face. Kriff. Maul was never deadlier than when he was bored. He needed a distraction, or his attention would soon fall on you, and the results would be grim. Savage unobtrusively keyed a command into his vambrace, instructing the guards to send in a few more dancers to entertain their lord. 

He was fully aware that he was likely throwing the dancers to the wolf, and he didn’t particularly care. Their safety was none of his concern. Yours was.  He waited patiently, keeping one eye on you, until he saw that Maul was thoroughly distracted by a pair of Twi’leks wearing costumes that were somehow more provocative than if they’d been fully nude. Once he was certain that you were unlikely to be summoned before his brother, he faded into the crowd and followed you out into the night.

He stepped out onto the deserted terrace and immediately felt some of the tension dissipate from his body. The night air was crisp and cool, and it smelled of sea salt and the dense, lush scent of night-blooming flowers. It was a welcome respite from the suffocating heat of the ballroom. 

He spotted you at once. You were alone in the darkness, your form silhouetted by the moons’ light against the vast gardens below. He pressed a button on his vambrace to activate the ray shield across the exit, ensuring that no other guests would wander out and disturb your solitude, then he leaned against a pillar, cloaked in shadow as he kept a silent, distant watch over you.

You gazed out over the gardens, your back turned to him. He didn’t need to see your face to sense the turmoil within you as you leaned against the balustrade. Your hand drifted slowly to your throat and rested against the necklace for a moment. Abruptly, you ripped it off your neck and hurled it into the darkness.

“No!” you gasped, your regret at your impetuous act immediate and obvious.

Savage shoved himself off the pillar and crossed the terrace in three strides, catching you by the elbow with his cybernetic hand just as you turned to hurry down the stairs into the garden.

“Where did it land?” he growled.

“I don’t—I don’t know,” you whispered hoarsely, staring up at him with wide, panicked eyes.

“Focus,” he said curtly. “Which direction did you throw it?”

You turned back toward the garden, looking back and forth frantically.

“There, I think,” you replied, pointing into the shadows.

He scanned the area you indicated, but even his predator’s eyes could not make out any sign of the jewelry among the luxuriant vegetation. He stretched out his hand, concentrating with all of his mind.

There.

The necklace clinked faintly as he pulled it to himself with the Force. You watched him silently, your lips parting slightly as the hideous thing landed safely in his hand. He turned to you, knowing that he was about to make a mistake, and no longer caring. He lifted the necklace and placed it around your throat, his knuckles grazing over your soft, warm skin.

His mouth went dry as his heart began to pound. Up close, he was surrounded by that damned rich, intoxicating perfume that made his head swim—made him want to do dangerous things, like lean closer to you, bury his face in your hair, slide his hands down your body, hold you against him. His hand trembled, and he fumbled with the necklace. Stifling a curse and forcing himself to pay attention, he peered closely at the choker, and his stomach plummeted.

“The clasp is broken,” he said quietly.

“Oh, gods,” you rasped, horrified. “If he finds out—”

“He won’t,” Savage interrupted. “You were walking in the gardens.”

Your breath began to spiral out of control, your chest rising and falling quickly as your fear took hold. Savage rested his hand on the side of your neck, raising your jaw with his thumb as he tilted your head back to meet his eyes.

“Look at me. You were walking in the gardens,” he repeated. “You tripped over a root. The clasp failed when you stumbled. I’ll have it sent to the jeweler for repairs in the morning.”

He dropped the necklace into his pocket without ever breaking eye contact. Your eyes looked enormous in your face as you stared up at him, panting slightly. He wasn’t sure you understood him until you replied in a ragged whisper.

“I was fortunate you were there to catch me. Otherwise, I might have been seriously injured.”

He felt a muscle in his jaw spasm, and for an instant, he felt nothing but pure, unadulterated rage at his brother. Lurking beneath that rage was a sick, twisting sense of guilt at his own complicity. But you were still gazing up at him, and his hand was still cradling your jaw, and in that moment, nothing existed in the universe except your face. He brushed his thumb across your cheek, and your eyes drifted closed.

“It’s a collar,” you whispered so quietly he almost couldn’t hear you even though he was standing closer to you than he ever had allowed himself to do before.

“I know,” he replied.

“He doesn’t like people touching his things,” you said.

Savage drew in a short, sharp breath through his nose. 

“Things?” His voice was dangerous.

Is that how he thinks of you? Is that how you think of yourself?

“You are not a thing,” he rumbled. “You are…”

He trailed off, and when he did not continue, you whispered, “What am I?”

“You are,” he began again, then hesitated. “... Perfect. And you deserve better.”

Your breath caught, and he felt your pulse begin to race beneath his fingertips as they rested against your throat.

“I had a plan, you know,” you said quietly. “To leave.”

Savage momentarily forgot how to breathe, and he had a brief, unworthy thought. Leave? But then you’d be gone. It was selfish, and he knew it. He didn’t want you to leave. He wanted you to stay. With him. But he knew it would never happen—could never happen. Maul would hardly permit Savage to steal his mistress out from under his nose and flaunt you in front of the entire Shadow Collective. And what reason did you have to stay? It wasn’t as though you returned his feelings.

“What was your plan?” he asked.

You took a deep breath. “It was risky.” 

You began to shiver, and you swayed almost imperceptibly closer to him, tilting your head slightly to lean into his hand. He nearly kissed you then, but he held himself back with supreme effort as you continued to speak, your voice barely a murmur, soft and low.

“I was going to lure you away from the crowd, fabricate an excuse to get close enough to steal your lightsaber, then put it through your heart and escape through the garden.”

Savage blinked. In a flash, his hand left your face and flew to his hip, only to find nothing. His eyes snapped downward, and he saw his lightsaber hilt, clutched in your hand. Slowly, he raised his eyes to yours. 

Fool, snarled the voice in his head bitterly. You fell for it like the pathetic weakling you have always been.

Anger and self-loathing flooded him, but worst of all, beneath the nauseating swirl of humiliation and disillusionment, he felt the cold stab of betrayal.

Next chapter

[rise-my-angel]

The sheer comedy in thinking about how the most romantic thing Stannis Baratheon had ever said was, "So the sea has returned me my knight of fish and onions."

And it wasn't even to his wife. It was to Davos Seaworth.

[frontierpsychopomp]

some birds

[jopzer]

merlin writers made an absolute litany of insane crazy /neg decisions over the course of the television program but. making merlin's first love the lady of the lake at the start of the show and then making him give the love of his life to her at the end. fucken based. absolutely red pilled.

[bunnieswithknives]

So, was that tag mentioning "fairy deer lycanthropy" /j or /srs ?

[balleater]

i still think about the fact that chetney was The Perfect version of a class fake out that could be done. everything about him, both how he was played and just how he was built as a character, Did make sense for a rogue(albeit a bit unconventional since he's strength based) to the point that there was nothing super suspicious about him but there was still enough signs that could be picked up on narratively and mechanically(his ac being a bit high based on rogue proficiencies, advantage on perception checks, and seemingly having a conditional advantage on history checks being the examples i noticed at the time) that it didn't feel like it was completely out of nowhere. absolutely iconic.

[fiapple]

i'm getting towards the end of the skypeia arc, & i'd like to say just how much i adore the way the female strawhats have been treated.

just... every aspect of how the way their characters have been previously contextualized influences the story-line is treated with a masterful amount of consideration. we're given so many layers to both of them that enrich not only their characters specifically, but the arc, and the one piece world as a whole. without nami & robin having their specific skills, and their specific values, without those being built upon, the story would have come to a halt.

you could not have skypeia without nami & robin being who they are as individuals. not just because they never would've gotten there without nami, but also because the way these women think is itself foundational to the machinations of the arc as a whole.

to be totally upfront, if you think any other strawhats were more central to the skypeia arc than nami & robin were you are full-on fucking lying to yourself.

[captorations]

i need more tlt fans to read worm and ward. because there are some insanely gnawable situationships here and most of the fandom flat out ignores them. the protagonist of ward was confessed to by the symbiotic alien living in her brain that gives her superpowers but can't actually talk to her in any normal way. and the confession was reciprocated. this is fucking canon. and there are exactly three (3) fics tagged with them on ao3.

like the weird smut options you get between a girl and her sapient shapeshifting forcefield aside, the dynamic is fucking excellent. her alien passenger literally represents and reflects her trauma but also protects her from it. the alien used to be part of a hivemind doing Experimence on humans but the alien gods controlling the hivemind got murdered to death so now it's just doing its own thing and looking after its human. and the human has (completely understandable) massive trust issues and can't fully accept anyone's emotional investment in her... except maybe the alien consciousness who's been part of her brain for a decade.

like. there are fics written between the release of gtn and htn exploring the fucked up situation that would be loving someone that is inextricably part of you and utterly devoted to your safety. and who you can't properly communicate with. and these were part speculation and part blatant disregard of canon. and then ward is just doing that In The Text and almost none of its audience cares

[supernovafics]

pavements was so so good wow wow wow

[corvidcall]

have absolutely 0 interest in assassins creed, and by extension, the assassins creed universes beyond cards. however. often there are real historical figures in those games. and i am a HUGE history buff. so if they print cards of my historical blorbos i will unfortunately be FORCED to get them

[starbuck]

if anyone was wondering, i’m currently reading published RPF about F. Scott Fitzgerald for *checks notes* my job, so that’s how my life is going.