#what is your basis for either of those claims - first of all - and second of all your deal with her was that you'd hand over

[sarah-ankh]

The following essay was written by a good friend of mine to express his outrage and his support. Reading it brought me comfort and I share it here with his permission:

A Visceral Emotional Response to the UK Supreme Court Ruling of April 16th, 2025

by Bradley Joseph King-Spooner

Insurance QA Analyst

Pursuant to the unanimous decision of the Supreme Court of the United Kingdom regarding the legal nature of transgender individuals on April 16th, 2025, I put forward the following.

I am not fluent in the ways of lawmakers or lawyers. I did not study in a law school. I have never read a document written in – as it is known colloquially – legalese, and fully understood its content. My total legal experience is a period of a little under a month, during which I did Jury Service between my first and second years of undergraduate study on an unrelated subject. I remain proud of the outcome of the one case I served on during that time, but I am not so arrogant as to believe that I was exposed to anything more than the outermost skin of the legal process.

Neither will I claim an intellectual mastery of the topic of transgender individuals. In my life, I believe I have met all of three of them, two if one takes a more severe, black-and-white classification, and this is hardly a sufficient sample to understand the full population of such people. Nevertheless, great pains have been taken by that marginalised community to express themselves in plain, simple terms that a child could understand, if their attention were but brought to the topic. I will therefore say that I, by all accounts, likely understand transgenderism better than I do the convoluted matters of legality.

But if a full and fluent understanding of law, justice, legislation, and all the related topics that led to the decision of April 16th, 2025, sufficiently overwrites what I do understand of transgenderism as to make that ruling a moral and sensible action, then either the very art is rotten to its benighted core, or the current executors of it are corrupt to the last cell in their bodies.

I was, once upon a time, of the belief that the age of needing to argue – to fight, even – for the rights of an individual were over. No more shall we have slaves, no more shall women be the servants of men, no more shall skin colour or heritage or creed form a legal basis for or against any one individual. I have lived a very brief fantasy, in my adult life, that I was born just in time to witness the dawn of such an age, with only residual resistance remaining.

No more.

The ones we call “transgender people”, those individuals born to the misfortune of a mismatch between their self-identity and their physical bodies, are being unpersoned as a concept in the English-speaking world. First in America, with the presidential ruling that the (so laughably outdated) gender binary be set in law and made immutable therein, and now in the United Kingdom by binding gender to physical sex. These rulings, from both sides of the Atlantic Ocean, demonstrate a fundamental contempt and ignorance on the topic, as true and as egregious as an all-male council of lawmakers gathering to discuss the rights of women.

Gender, at its most fundamental level, has no physical element; it is not an organ or a limb, it is not a growth or a feature. It is something inside oneself, as the concept might be understood in the field of psychology, immune to external influence, such that no pleasure or agony can alter or displace it; it cannot be cut off, replaced, or altered, not even by the greatest manipulator or surgeon. It is a keystone part of how you – yes you, yourself, you who are reading this right now – see yourself when you think of yourself.

To illustrate: Imagine you wake up one day, and find yourself as a member of the opposite sex. What is your first reaction? Is it alarm? Panic? Revulsion even? Is your first clear thought a wonder as to how to get back to how you “should” be? If yes, then congratulations; you now understand, at least slightly, how transgender people – those who have not yet been able to transition – feel every single day. And how they will continue to feel every day hence, if this erasure of them is allowed to continue unopposed.

That feeling, the one you just felt if your answer to the previous question was “yes”. Does that feeling disquiet you?

Rejoice, you possess at least some tiny spark of true empathy, and in so doing, you have the capacity to realise how shameful, how base and revolting, this situation is. You are now above those who have made these obscene decisions. Decisions not for themselves, within their high and honoured walls, but for those outside those walls. Those who, I would guess by the very nature of these decisions, they have never even thought to meet.

Some of you who read this may be in support of the ruling. Perhaps you also believe that all people are just men or just women, never something else or somewhere between, and certainly never capable of changing this. Perhaps you are laughing at me right now. How foolish is this idiot?! How dumb?! How can you not see the way nature intended the human to be?

If so, I beg your attention a moment longer.

You men, I will address you first. Let us imagine, for a moment, that you are in a less-safe part of the world; exactly where does not matter, use your imaginations. Without warning, a sharpshooter, wielding in their hands a Barrett M82, hits you from out of sight and out of mind. They misjudged the range however, such that their aim for your head or your heart actually dropped a little low, and has instead struck your groin. Instantly, faster than you could ever react, your penis, testicles; all of the essential organs from that part of your body are not only torn off, but utterly destroyed; scattered into little fleshy bits over the ground. You bleed profusely, but fortunately a skilled physician is close by, and is able to save your life. Your family jewels are, however, gone forever, and no act of grafting or plastic surgery can fashion for you a replacement.

Are you still a man?

Of course you are! A similar fate could befall the facial hair, the broad shoulders, or any of the physical characteristics that separate male puberty from female puberty, and it would reduce the maleness of these victims no less. It is no physical part of you that makes you a man, but your self-identity; that part inside of you, in your mind, that looks at itself and thinks “I am a man.”. There is no power in all the known universe that could take that away from you, even should your body be rent and torn and should you suffer every kind of humiliation, should you enjoy flowers and weep openly at children's films, your manliness is inviolable, for it is from inside of you that it comes forth.

You women, now, you are the same. What parts of you are it that make you “women”? When you look in the mirror, and the woman in it looks back, why is she who you see a woman? The answer is the same. Your femininity, womanliness, whatever your preferred term is; it comes from inside you, invulnerable and invincible. Even should great injury destroy your body, should great passions for “unfeminine things” arise within you, your self-identity as women cannot be stolen away from you.

So strong and immovable is your gender, that inner aspect of yourself, so incorruptible and indifferent to the pressures of the world, that – as described above – even should you be transitioned overnight into a body of the “wrong” sex, your gender does not budge. For all those of you who feel distress in such a scenario, marvel at your capacity for learning; you are, in this imagined scenario, a transgender person by every definition, and you share in their emotional and mental plight.

So it is that gender, like sexual orientation, cannot be changed or made to conform to external expectations. Even should the whole world rise up against you and call your gender “wrong”, even should the mountains and seas swell to support them from the rear, you cannot change it for them, for yourself, nor for any power in the universe. It is also – again, like sexual orientation – never chosen, but rather discovered as one matures. The gender of any human is a roll of the dice, indifferent – as it is to everything else – to the physical shape of the body, and in a world that has so long feared the displeasure of an unspeaking and inhuman deity, those whose gender aligned closely enough to their physical bodies as to not cause distress – the “cisgendered people”, to use the correct term – can surely be counted as among the most fortunate of souls, that their very existence did not trouble those in power.

But gender's indifference to the physical body is a curse for transgender people, for their own dice did not align when they fell; their sex became one thing, their gender another. It is a curse we, as a species, have only recently gained the ability to lift. But in the discovery of this ability, this capacity to raise the collective happiness of surely more people than will ever reveal themselves before such a hostile crowd, we as a society must instead find excuses to deny it to them? Instead of hearing their pains and sufferings and offering them a known way out, we must tell them that they are mistaken about themselves? That society and popular opinion is a truer judge of who they are, at their most private and personal levels, than they themselves will ever be? That what they physically are as they were born matters more than what they have come to know about themselves?

If you can hear the echoes of history, especially modern history, in these questions, I sincerely doubt you require any further convincing of the moral criminality of what is happening. To rally an ignorant people against a common enemy is a truly ancient method of maintaining social order, but here, now, this time, they have chosen poorly. We are too socially linked, too well-educated, and the transgender community surely maintains at least two secretive individuals for every one that has braved the terrible storm of public opinion, and this does not begin to count non-members who nonetheless stand with them (yours truly among them). It will never officially be called “oppression”, but a future, more enlightened society will struggle mightily to see it as anything else, and few pieces of evidence will convince them so strongly as the Supreme Court's decision on April 16th.

Suffice to say, all those who contributed to this ruling, from its conception to its inception, should – each and all to the very last – be ashamed of themselves. I have heard the notion of transgenderism be rejected for any number of reasons; I have heard it be called “childish”, I have heard it be called “silly”, I have even heard the argument that it is somehow “blasphemous”. I will spare the topic of intersubjective realities for this missive, but to strike each of these points in turn, I beg your attention a moment more.

Childish. An ironic insult, seeing as how realisation of one's transgender status is indifferent to age; children barely old enough to speak and withered ancients alike all carry the label. A topic upon which they are surely the greatest experts is instead presented to them as something they cannot understand, but which the random stranger can describe with exacting detail. No, it is not childish; rather, the discovery of one's gender is a key step towards maturity. For some, it comes easily, perhaps even unnoticed. For others, why should we punish them for this discovery? Why should we threaten them with pariah status, social exile, and emotional and physical harm, when maturity is such a valued trait in this Western World of ours?

Silly. My own father, may he rest in peace, used this one, in his lifelong indifference to and ignorance of “the other”. Such a term is used by those who see the people around them having fun and do not wish to betray their envy at such joy of life. To them, the happiness of the transgender person finally receiving the reception they crave, the delight in wearing the right clothes or being called the right name for the first time, is a threat they cannot countenance. Such people should be ignored and left alone, lest the happiness of the world render them even more miserable.

Blasphemous. Take a knee and pray to whatever divinity brings you comfort, for there is more to unpack here than I – with my imperfect knowledge of this both topic and of psychology – can adequately articulate. Ergo, I will cover just one case of this, where I heard an individual, whose identity shall remain anonymous, call transgender people this word because the Catholic God would not make such a mistake when making a person. I put forward that a being of such breathtaking scope as Him (I understand the unique pronoun, with its capitalisation, is very important; if only such respect could be extended in all cases) has, evidence would suggest, endowed humans with the ability to solve a puzzle laid down before them (indeed, the very existence and efficacy of HRT seems to suggest this). If this being has made no mistake, then the error must lie with the humans who refuse to solve it; much like the child who refuses to solve a maths problem because it is silly to them. Further, if such a supposition is wrong, then I can only assume the error does indeed lie with the patron deity, for filling His creations with such callousness and cruelty that the deaths of numerous people on the Hormone Replacement Therapy waiting list, thus accelerating its preposterous schedule, is heralded as “good news”.

Every one of those deaths is a family, of blood and/or of choice, reduced to sobbing grief; a loss that nothing can replace, a pain that time can only soothe and not eliminate, and a monument to the thinking that has led to this present criminality. How high shall the tower of corpses climb, before some acknowledgement of guilt is made?

Now, to all those of you who support this motion, this ruling. All of you who feel this decision has been made for the betterment and common good of “all”. To you, I say this:

I am of the conviction that you want to believe that transgender people are EVIL. That you have convinced yourself that they are subhuman; somehow undeserving of the basic liberties, protections, kindnesses, and grace, granted so freely to others. You see a person standing before you and you refuse to grant them the basic respect due to every civilised person, and in their lashing out against this, you call them “disruptive”. You fancy them inferior to you because they do not fit within the view of the world you have embraced, and you would sooner lop off their limbs and smash their heads in, that they might fit into those neat boxes, than consider that you might yet have more to learn about the world. That your knowledge of the world is incomplete, that there is information you have not yet acquired.

If it helps at all, know that once, I perhaps believed much as you did. Once upon a time, I had never heard of the word “transgender”; certainly it was not taught in school. Indeed, I spent the first six years of my formal education (that is to say, wearing a school uniform) attending one of two schools run by the Church of England. There we were taught that there is only men and women, that adults were always in the right, and to run contrary to what they said was stupidity; a condition to be cured with a loud shouting-at.

I learned of intersex people no earlier than my Sixth Form years, as a passing side-topic while researching something unrelated. There, I was taught that they were medical abnormalities for not fitting into the female/male divide, but the learning was brief and shallow; I learned an insufficient amount to even consider that they should be held in any less regard for their “disability”.

It was at university, the latter years of university no less, that I first met transgender people, and learned of them. One of them I grew to loathe for her manipulative and deceitful personality, the others I have grown very fond of; bright, curious, creative minds both, with much to offer the world. I can assure you, from the lap of first-hand experience; transgender people are just as I have described – people. You will love some of them, hate others, and be indifferent to most of them; exactly the same as anyone else. If you must see them as somehow inherently different from whatever your definition of “us” is, then I dare you to wear the “cisgender” tag as proudly as they fly their Pride flag.

“He has gone native!”, I can hear the cries already.

I believe, with a conviction that consumes me, that those of you who feel that transgender people are some kind of inherent threat to society, public morals, or some imagined version of worldly peace, purely by the nature of them that grants them the distinguishing label of “transgender”, are ignorant vermin. You are tiny, repugnant little spirits, and I am convinced that none of you will ever know true happiness so long as another sapient being exists in this cosmos, for even if yourself and one other were the only ones left in all of existence, you would find some way to make them your enemy.

Understand this: Nobody ever chose their ethnicity, nobody ever chose their sexual orientation, and nobody ever chose their gender. But you, however, you have definitely chosen your hatred. You, and the Judges of the Supreme Court, for hatred is the only emotion I can possibly imagine driving such a wretched decision.

I doubt anyone with sufficient importance will ever actually read this. But if the generations of WWI and WWII truly died ultimately for nothing, then let this be my declaration of where I stand.

“Whoa whoa whoa,” I hear you, “why so dramatic? There will be no bloodshed over this!”

And yet there already has been death. With the current situation on the other side of the Atlantic, I see this decision by the Supreme Court as a distressing echo. And so, I plant my flag here, on this hill.

Whether I die here tomorrow or in a hundred years, you will not remove me by force.

[ollie-duck]

Okay so

Racism towards Palestinians and not being starkly against their genocide is okay because you “have family in isnt-real (but they’re not white)”.

But

People having odd interests as coping mechanisms with the disorder that relies on coping with trauma in such extreme ways that the subconscious literally doesn’t fuse is bad.

Got it. Alters simply existing bad. But genocide acceptable.

Have the day you deserve, bootlicker.

@clockworkconstellati0n since you want to publicly insult me but are too much of a coward to do so with your handle attached (either that or your system blog is a side blog, either way, dick move).

You want to play this game? With an archaeologist? Really? Fine, I’ll play.

At no point did I say what Netanyahu is doing to the Palestinians is any way acceptable. I even told you outright that I believe in the two state solution. (AS DO THE VAST MAJORITY OF ISRAELIS on both counts)

(Proof)

Telling you that MY family isn’t white is not even remotely akin to racism against Palestinians. I brought it up because it’s a common JVP talking point, the same organization you openly claimed (at least some) affiliation with.

(Proof)

As for me calling out “alters for just existing” but being “totally fine with genocide” -

I don’t talk about the war specifically because it’s extremely upsetting to me, and also not even remotely relevant to system stuff. As for me not being okay with the guy who openly and publicly SUPPORTS THE ACTIONS OF THE FUCKING COLUMBINE SHOOTERS (it was more than just having fictives of them, if you had actually bothered to read the G-d damn post)

The fact that you assumed all of this about me simply based on the fact that I have family in Israel speaks VOLUMES about your values.

Good luck converting to an inherently Zionist religion with biases like those!

Quick lesson for those who don’t know!: Zionism/Zionist is the simply held belief (and the basis of our entire religion!) that Israel is our ancestral homeland, and that because we are indigenous to it, we ought to be… oh I don’t know… allowed to live there? Zionism does NOT mean you support the war. It does NOT mean you support Netanyahu. It does NOT mean that you believe we cannot coexist peacefully with the Palestinians. It does NOT mean you believe all Palestinians should die. It means, and has ALWAYS meant, that we believe we deserve to live in the land of our origin.

You say you want to convert to Judaism, but are just having such a hard time finding a non Zionist Shul to attend!

I wonder why that could be?

Did you know that over half of the 613 mitsvot are IMPOSSIBLE to perform outside of the land of Israel? But Judaism isn’t inherently Zionist or anything.

Pop quiz:

What temple was sequestered by a known Greek conqueror and later reclaimed by its original Jewish builders?

A) The temple of Manhattan

B) The temple of Canada

C) The second temple of Jerusalem‎ in Israel, then known as Judea ( בֵּית־הַמִּקְדָּשׁ‎ הַשֵּׁנִי‎ ) - gee I wonder what happened to the first one?

If you answered C, congrats! We celebrate this temple being returned to us every year with the Festival of Lights (hannukah)!

Question 2:

What land did we spend 40 years looking for after leaving subjugation in Egypt, according to our most sacred text?

A) Manhattan

B) Canada

C) Israel, the land of our birth

If you answered C, Israel, you’d be correct! But I’m sure that wasn’t one of the most important stories of our entire religion, or anything, right?

Question 3:

What popular phrase is said that the end of the Passover Seder, promising to celebrate next year in a specific city of great religious and cultural significance?

A) Next year in manhattan!

B) Next year in Ontario!

C) Next year in Jerusalem!

If you chose C, you’d be correct! Jews promise every year when we celebrate Passover, that next year we will do it in our most sacred city, the city in the land of our birth!

Oh dear, is that ANOTHER Zionist holiday? Maybe there’s a reason you’re having so much trouble finding rabbis who want to completely disown our most important doctrine. It’s not like the entire religion hinges on us being sons and daughters of Israel, or anything!

Have you participated in Tisha B’av yet? I wonder what that one commemorates! Fasting is very serious.

Uh oh! Looks like we found another Zionist holiday!

How about the holiest holiday we have (Yom Kippur)? Surely THAT one can be celebrated by anti Zionists such as yourself!

Oh dear! It looks like this one ALSO started in Jerusalem! Bummer!

But I’m sure you’ll have absolutely no conflicts with your fellow Jews by converting to the religion BUILT ON ZIONISM! They surely won’t feel unsafe in your presence, because obviously you wouldn’t go out of your way to insult them for where they were born! That would be racism! You aren’t racist! It’s not like over half of us were born in Israel or something!

“Over half of the Jewish population are Israeli-born to at least one parent who was also Israeli-born. Those of European and American ancestry make up about 2.2 million (36%) of the Jewish population in Israel, while Africans fill out another 14.5% and Asians are 11.2%.”

(Source - Jewish Virtual Library)

“More than four-fifths of all Jews live in just two countries, the United States (41%) and Israel (41%).”

(Source - Pew Research Center)

Are you sure that picking this fight with an archaeology major who hoped to specialize in the Near East was such a good idea?

You come for my family and I will come for you.

If this had stayed about me, I would’ve reacted with far less vitriol in my fact checking. But you went and brought my family into it. Given that you have such little grasp of what is important to Jews, I find it pertinent to mention that we always protect our family, no matter what.

Uncut screenshots and proof that this is them will be put in the reblog as I’ve hit the image limit.

[princessbellecerise]

are you aware that by lying about the bastard status of her children Rhaenyra committed treason? You know what the punishment for treason is yes? Aegon is the heir wheither you want it or not. If Rhaenyra had legitimized her children we wouldn't have this problem. She was being stupid.

Are you aware that both the King, Corlys and Laenor recognized these boys as legitimate and treated them as such? Are you aware that they KNEW, DIDN'T CARE, and STILL named them as heirs?

Any bastard recognized by the King or the Lord they are inheriting from as legitimate are thereby treated as such. But let's not even get into that, and get into the fact that despite it being obvious in the show, in the book Jace, Luke and Joffery are NEVER proved to illegimate as no one knows what Laenor or Harwin looks like. These are simply just misogynistic rumors spread by, yes, you guessed it, the Greens as just another excuse to justify usurping Rhaenyra.

Truth be told they have no proof and they don't actually care. They only say this weaken her claim.

But no matter which way you spin it, Aegon is not and never will be the rightful heir. First of all, there is no such thing as a 'rightful heir.' You do not earn that status by simply being born as the first male as there is no set law in Westros that establishes this. The next ruler is chosen by the current King on a case by case situation and Viserys named RHENYRA was heir, not Aegon. If you want proof, check out this 1999 article where GRRM himself says himself that there are not succession laws in Westros:

Here is the snipit: "There are no clear cut answers, either in Westeros or in real medieval history. Things were often decided on a case by case basis. A case might set a precedent for later cases... but as often as not, the precedents conflicted as much as the claims."

Second of all, Aegon is a rapist. Rape believe it or not is ILLEGAL in Westros. Men who were rapers got sent to the wall or castrated or executed, as seen when Daemon literally cuts someone's dick off during his rampage. Any crime committed is crime against the King, which is treason. Therefor your logic is invalid because technically, your boy committed treason as well. Multiple times.

Third of all, you cannot call Rhaenyra stupid for making a choice to save her life and her claim.

Having bastard children is not illegal or treason but trying to put them on the throne IS. If Rhaenyra had announced that her children were bastards then she would be put to death along with Jace, Luke, And Joffery (who, mind you, is an innocent little kid). Viserys would probably have no choice but to execute Daemon as well seeing as he probably knew, and anyone else like Harwin, Lord Lynol (his hand at one point), Rhaena, Baela, Laenor if he was still alive (which would greatly weaken the crown because there is no World in which Corlys would support him after that).

You really expect this woman to put herself, her entire family and others in danger for what - rumors started by Alicent? Because once again I reiterate - just because the show makes it oblivious, does not mean it was ever actually proven.

Rhaenyra giving into those stupid rumors would cost not only her, but the realm so much. And I find it funny how you are so eager to put her children in danger when you probably think Blood and Cheese is wrong.

Well, news flash, advocating for Rhaenyra to admit to treason would mean little kids die anyways. Luke, Rhaena, Baela, and Joffery who is around the same age as Heleana's children would be put to the death but I find it funny how you have no sympathy for them.

But back to the point - Westros is an absolute monarchy. The King's word is law and there are no if, ands, or buts. What Viserys says, goes, and even if you threw everything I just said out of the window, THE KING, and I repeat, THE KING OF THE SEVEN KINGDOMS NAMED HER AS HEIR. HIS WORD IS LAW. THERE IS NO ARGIUNG WITH THAT.

If you think Rhaenya is still not the rightful heir even after the King has said she was and never relented to his death, then it is because you have a problem with a woman on the throne. It was always supposed to be her and not Aegon, and the Greens usurped her not because Aegon was the rightful heir, but because they hated the idea of a woman on the throne.

I leave you with all this and if you disagree that's your problem. But remember, even Aegon himself once said:

"What kind of a brother steals his own sister's birthright?"

[9r7g5h]

A Week of My Enigma - Scents

Fandom: My Hero Academia, Boku no Hero Academia 

Rating: M

Genre: Saucy lmao, but not spicy

AN: A week of Enigma Bakugou prompt fills.

Words: 2154

There wasn't much information on enigmas.

With only one, maybe two born every generation or so, agreeing to be a lab rat for the rest of your life was no way to live, especially when there was no guarantee that the "research" wouldn't end up with your brain on the table of some mad scientist. With the only other two currently known enigmas an old woman in the Philippines and a woman in Australia the same age as his mom, Katsuki wasn't going to be the only one to sign up for being drained and gutted on a regular basis. Thus, the only publicly available information was the stuff that was, well, well known.

His teeth were larger, his scent stronger, his Command more than enough to drive off any potential alphas that might threaten his interests. His quirk was strong, he put on muscle easier, could command a room with ease; as far as everyone else knew, Katsuki had a ticket to an easy life, especially as a pro-hero.

What wasn't well known, and what was the bane of his existence, was his heightened sense of smell, something Katsuki would give up all the benefits of being an enigma for if he could just get rid of it.

It didn't matter most days that UA required all first and second years to take suppressants, no matter their secondary gender; he could still smell them all, the weak ass neutralized oils still building up on their scent glands, just strong enough to tease his nose and make him feel like he needed to sneeze twenty-four seven. At least the smells of the third years and teachers were pure, covered only by the everyday plastic patches that most normal people wore as the third years went through their scent desensitization classes. Those he could adjust to, categorize as pack, friend, or foe, and quickly learn to ignore. But the shitty suppressed smells that the rest of UA gave off just pissed him off, leaving him with a migraine by the end of the day if he tried to focus too much, and an itchy nose all day if he didn't.

Only Deku's smell didn't seem to annoy him, at least not the same way everyone else's did. For a teenaged beta his smell was still so childish, reminding Katsuki of afternoons in the park, evenings cuddling under blankets with ramen and movies, too young to care about the way the world actually worked. Like he hadn't grown a single bit since those days, though just looking at the nerd, his dense bulk and height (not nearly as tall as Katsuki, no, but a decent average nonetheless), told otherwise. It was a smell that paired well with his still present baby face, if not the rest of him.

Perhaps it was that childish reminder, perhaps it was the fact that it'd been there his entire life, but either way Katsuki often found himself taking comfort in Izuku's smell. Standing a little closer than he otherwise would have, or snagging a shirt from his locker to use as a mask when the migraines got too much. It might have been weird, sure, but who was going to question him? The nerd himself was fine with it, and everyone else backed off with a quick growl.

Except...except lately, there’d been something weird going on with Deku. Something was off about his scent the last few days, something that made his jaw ache, the gums around his fangs itch, his mouth fill with saliva and the bitter hint of claiming venom. He knew alphas could claim a beta, could form a mutual bond if they so desired, and he was more than interested in the dork, but it was weird that it was happening now, of all times, after so many years of them knowing each other. There hadn’t been any major change between the two, hadn’t been any quirks that could have set this off, and no one else seemed to notice.

He’d already been planning on courting him, giving him the scented collar that was part of the matching pair that would mark them as potential mates on his birthday, but it was still weird.

Not that he had a lot of time to think about it lately. Midterms were coming up soon, and the idiot squad that had managed to annoy their way into being his pack needed all the help they could get to avoid having to spend the few precious free hours they had off in remedial classes. Again. If he wasn’t running drills with them on a training ground, trying to make sure they were prepared for whatever fuckery their teachers decided to throw at them this time, he was stuck in the common room, surrounded by too many smells, fighting off the pounding in his head as he walked them through advanced calculus.

All things considered, it'd been going well, and there was real hope that they might actually not suck this time. He wouldn't call the feelings in his chest proud, but something close, something he could find a name for later, when they were solving their own homework without him hovering over them.

A future something Katsuki quickly lost all thought of as Izuku walked past the door, heading towards the kitchen to refill his water bottle, the light breeze of his movements sending the slightest hint of his scent towards him.

Fuck.

Katsuki was in control. An omega in heat, an alpha in rut, the nameless hormonal shift betas went through that still made them smell tempting; never once had he flinched at those smells, his enigma control over his baser instincts unshaken. Even Midnight's quirk was less effective on him, needing a stronger dose and longer exposure in order to knock him out, the pheromones fighting against his need to win. Despite the number of times people had called him feral, said he was a villain waiting to happen, Katsuki was in control.

He'd always been in control.

Perhaps that's why the others didn't back away when the low growl started in his throat, confused instead of the scared they should have been. Denki had even looked around the room, searching for some other source of the noise, before acknowledging it was coming from the enigma right in front of him.

An enigma with his eyes blown, mouth dropped to show the grown teeth, drool and venom dropping onto the papers and table before him. Panting and growling even as he waited, muscles tense, eyes locked on the doorframe perpendicular to their set up.

"You ok, Kats?" Mina asked carefully, nudging Kirishima until he hardened and waved his hand in front of his friend's face, not even receiving a blink in response. "You're acting kind of..."

"Dude, you look like you're gone. Stop playing around and tell me the answer to-"

Izuku moved, heading out of the kitchen back towards the elevators that would take him to his room. Away from Katsuki.

He hadn't meant to blow up the table, setting fire to the mountains of papers covering the wood, but he'd been surrounded on all sides, and the quickest way out was over. A snap at the blond, sending him toppling back with a bleeding hand, too close to grabbing him, to stopping him. Kirishima harded just in time, a deep dent in the far wall as he bounced off a support beam, dazed and clothes smoldering. Mina and Sero had been too stunned to move, to interfere, so he left them alone, a harsh snarl over his shoulder the only warning they would get to stay away.

Mate wasn't alone when he caught up, though no true threats. A swift kick to the stomach had Aoyama crying in a ball, the tiny purple fuck screaming and fleeing with a single growl. Leaving him alone with mate, with Izuku, confused but not scared as he was jerked away from helping his friend, as he yelled and tried to get through to Katsuki, ask questions, try and find an answer to what was going on. As he activated his quirk to throw a kick, Katsuki deflecting it at the last moment, putting a hole in the floor that he could hear screaming through.

Don't destroy den, a part of him growled inside. So instead of deflecting the next attack like he knew Izuku was expecting he accepted it, grabbing at his arm, his waist, wrapping himself around his opponent until his front was pressed against Izuku’s back; not to immobilize him, he didn’t give a fuck what he did next, but to give him the leverage he needed to grab Izuku’s hair, yank his head to the side, and sink his teeth into the slightly swollen scent gland presented to him.

He moaned as Izuku went limp beneath him, falling to the floor as blood and oil spilled over his tongue, the smell of an omega snapping into heat filling his nose, the hall, the entire dorm as the suppressants did nothing for this new presentation, enhanced by the particle bond settling into his skin, his bones, every sense telling him this was right. Freeing his teeth, uncaring of the blood that dripped down his teeth or stained his tongue, he rolled them so Izuku was facing upwards, no longer pressed into the wooden floors, his glazed eyes clearing for a moment as Katsuki tilted his head.

“Mate,” was the only thing he could spit out, trying to fight back the need to tear off their clothes, to fuck right there in the hall, uncaring of Aoyama watching them with bemused horror from his fetal position by his dorm. His dick could wait, he needed this, needed to smell himself on Izuku, needed to smell their bond, needed everyone to know he was Izuku’s and Izuku was his. It took a long moment for Izuku to move, to respond, long enough for Katsuki to whine, a pleading sound he would deny he made later, because he begged no one, but eventually Izuku moved, nuzzling at Katsuki’s cheek, his shoulder, his neck.

“Mate,” Izuku agreed, his own teeth breaking skin a moment later, Katsuki’s hips rutting forward at the feeling, curses forced from him at the feeling of it all. At the pain in his neck, the warmth of Izuku below him, slick already wetting his skin as Katsuki groped his ass, his infuriatingly short shorts wet through. Their kiss was bloody, sharpy and metallic as their teeth clashed, painful and the wrong angle as they rutted against each other, unable to think beyond getting closer, fucking and mating and breeding.

“Nest, now,” Izuku whined, and they were standing, his arms around Katsuki’s shoulders, legs tight around his hips, neither of them stopping their desperate movements as Katsuki stepped towards Izuku’s room.

Only to be stopped by fabric wrapping around them, twin capture weapons pulling them in opposite directions, both crying out as Katsuki found himself at Aizawa’s feet, Shinso standing over Izuku. There were others there, he finally realized, teachers and classmates and members of their packs, moving to surround them, getting too close to him, to his mate. Aizawa was smart, Katsuki’s hands forced inwards towards his chest, his eyes instead trained on the snarling omega down the hall snapping at anyone who tried to touch him, both of them trying to squirm and bite and tear themselves free to get back to each other.

Finally Midnight stood between them, half dressed in civilian clothes, her face soft as she knelt between them. “I’m sorry, boys, but we can’t let you two make any pups on school grounds. School policy, not mine. So let’s go to sleep.” He almost got the hand extended towards him, his struggles only increasing as he saw Izuku still, his snarls falling into peaceful snores. He could feel himself falling, though, no matter how hard he fought against the pull of her quirk. “He’s not going anywhere,” Midnight promised, voice soft and soothing, lulling him more, her words comforting as more of her smoke floated under and around his nose. “You’ll both be in the same room when you wake up, just with meds to let you think clearer, ok? It’s ok to sleep, Bakugou, so it’s time to sleep.”

As if knowing what he needed, seeing him fight the effects of her quirk that much more at the suggestion he had to sleep, Ochako slipped into Izuku’s room, throwing a bundle of cloth at the X-rated Hero. She caught it easily, shaking her head as she shook out the shirt.

When she pressed it over her hand, her quirk flowing through the fabric to tinge her quirk with Izuku’s scent, there was no more fighting. Katsuki quickly fell asleep to the smell of his mate, leaving everyone else to deal with their mess, uncaring of what awaited them when they woke.

[END]

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[selormohene]

day 131 (saturday, november 11th 2023)

Following on from the post for Friday, and a bit of the one for Thursday, and a post from a while back. The contemporary progressive ideology, at least as it manifests in the USA among relatively affluent young urbanites and suburbanites, is influenced by three systems of thought which are in tension. To begin with, there's identitarianism, which involves the valuation of a number of individual identity categories, both the general right of people to "identify" one way or another and to affirm the values they take to be associated with that identity, and as it were the identities that are thereby affirmed. In other words, it's not enough to say "I respect your right to place value on your identity, though I place no such value whatsoever on it myself," it's thought that you should see a wide range of identities as genuinely valuable. This doesn't mean anything goes, for instance, people who identify with being white aren't meant to have their identities affirmed, and there's a genuine question of why not. But it does mean that there are a wide range of identities which would otherwise be thought to be in tension with each other which are somehow meant to be valued simultaneously. And what's more, sometimes you have people identifying with multiple of these categories at once, and it is thought that their own identification with these categories is what determines what those categories can and should be, rather than the other way round. Now in a way it makes complete sense that this should be so; for things to be otherwise would be for human beings to lay down their lives for the sake of abstract ideas. Surely it is the living, breathing human being who should take primacy over the ideology. The problem is that this view often extends to categories which one would think have their basis in some sort of view of what is the case objectively. And so you here have situations where people are like "well Christianity doesn't require X because I identify as a Christian and I don't want it to require X," which wouldn't be an issue of the people who made such claims didn't want their interpretations to govern the interpretations of others, for one thing, and to determine actually existing Christianity, which one would have thought should be constituted independently of their however-formed preferences.

Anyway, that's one strand. Then the second is leftism. The point of leftism lies in two things: the first is the valuation of solidarity across what one might call "superficial" ideological differences, and the second is the affirmation of substantive values such as freedom from the oppression of the bourgeoisie, socialist or communist modes of social organisation, the possibility of free creative or recreational activity untethered from being compelled to reproduce the material conditions of one's existence, perhaps the quasi-Aristotelian idea of realising one's species-being, and so on. So here you have various tensions with the identitarian viewpoint. For one thing you have a privileged set of values which are to be shared by all, rather than different sets of values which nominally have no reason to be compatible but nonetheless have to be valued by all. Second, you have what often seems to amount to a dismissal of categories of identity based on things like race or religion, or sexuality; here there is an argument that such categories arise from falsehoods, are "ideological" in the pejorative sense. Such an argument might take various forms: it might be epistemic in nature, saying that racial or religious identities somehow generate an unreal or reified picture of the social world and its joints; genetic, arguing that the origin of such categories is in a bad aspect of the productive process, either as a sort of false reconciliation in the case of religion or as a divide-and-conquer strategy in the case of race; or functional in nature, arguing that in fact such categories serve to facilitate oppressive relations of production. At least in its Marxist incarnation there is quite a substantive metaphysics behind the leftist impulse, one which is materialist in nature (and I genuinely think that historical and dialectical materialism and metaphysical materialism are meant to go together, though I've heard it argued that they aren't), and this metaphysics is hostile to the idea that there are different spiritualities or ways of knowing or what have you which come with different identities and should all be respected and are equally valuable (or even, somehow, equally true). There is a view of real interests which is divorced from the interests people take themselves to have under these other aspects, and so on.

So that's identitarianism and leftism. And then the third leg is liberalism. Liberalism proceeds from two values: first, the right of each individual to pursue their vision of the good. This it has in common with identitarianism at any rate. But then there's another aspect which puts it in tension with both identitarianism and leftism, which is that the liberal ideology prescinds from including individual or even communal substantive values in public valuation. At any rate, it allows for people to end up agreeing on certain public courses of action for different reasons. Now of course I have my own problems with this sort of view, because it seems to me to reduce reason in the public sphere to a simulacrum which is employed insincerely to produce a veneer of theoretical consensus for the sake of practical coordination, and (depending on how you want to look at things) either forbids people from advocating for their own substantive complex of interests in terms which cannot otherwise be "justified" to others, or is naïve to the fact that people will do this anyway. But the point here is that there is nothing like public valuation. And in a sense liberalism is the glue that binds everything together: it waters down the public substance of identities and the cost of their affirmation to the point where the sort of multiple valuation compelled by identitarianism is pretty cheap. And although there have been efforts recently to reconcile liberalism and leftism, which are perhaps better explained by the fact that contemporary political philosophy professors identify with both ideologies than might their viability explain why people are drawn to both, there nonetheless remains an influential anti-leftist version of liberalism, call it economic libertarianism, which does not construe class differences in the leftist sense as barriers to the liberal vision, perhaps because it starts from the viewpoint (both procedurally and, in a sense, metaphysically) of individuals as free and equal rational points without substantive content, whose particular positions and interests do not enter into public life.

[writingforatwistedworld]

Ok I couldn't find the ask in my requests anymore (I think it was eaten) so I hope I am still able to nail this.

Self-aware au

I do not take any responsibility for you reading this no matter which age group you are from!

WARNINGS: Yandere themes, murder, imprisonment, manipulation, stalking, blood, kidnapping, unhealthy relationship

Jamil Viper/Malleus Draconia/Lilia Vanrouge-Player hides that they are the Overseer

First question: WHY??!

Second question: Has he done something so that you would hide who you truly were

Jamil always knew that there was something special about you

But every time he was close to figuring out when he had felt this warmth before he was always assuming that it was simply due to you treating him like a human being and not some sort of asset you could throw away whenever you wanted

What if this was just a way for you to test him? What if you wanted him to figure out that you were the highest being in his world?

If it weren't for you laughing and telling him that it was alright and not some sort of test things will be a bit more easier in the aftermath for him

And we can't really blame him for not noticing

After all, you had suddenly disappeared, your wise gaze went suddenly missing, leaving him trapped in the cold of a world without you

Was he cuddling his cushion on the second day when you were gone, hoping to find at least some of the comfort you took with yourself? Maybe...

But after he finally figured out who you were, let's say your tongue slipped and you said something only the Overseer could know, there was also a huge change how he treated you

Kalim? What was that? Something to eat? His former master? There was nothing before you became. His master. Nu uh. N o t h i n g

Also, I haven't seen you talking with the other students so much anymore. They are distancing themselves form you? How sad *side glance to Jamil*

You know these people that claim to do something good for you when it's in truth doing more bad? That's him but only that he is not aware that he is doing it

Those frightened-off students? His work. They were just talking about you in such an disrespectful way and something in him just snapped

They ended up in the infirmary with a broken nose... never knew he had it in his fists...

But he is doing all of this for you. What? You would like to go to your classmates? But they really aren't the best company! If you want to lead a good life you also need to surround yourself with only good people. Who those are? Well for starters him. Only him. You got that, right. Only him.

Either you are in truth some master of hiding your identity or he lost 90% of his brain cells

I mean, you are his God so HOW??!

But we don't judge him

Especially not when he looks so... small (?) and like he is ready to burst into tears second now (I don't know how that is supposed to look since it's just so unimaginable)

At the same time, when you disappeared there was a huge crisis in the Valley of Thorns so he was a bit occupied

This had to be some punishment, right? Did the offerings not satisfy you? We're they too little??! (They offered you gold and other riches on a daily basis so I don't know how he could assume that)

Malleus felt like he was nothing but a small hatchling again, remembering how he hugged Lilia when he felt like no one would ever like him because of his powers

Also a reason why he is so... “interested” in you, his light in the darkness

So when he found out? Pure joy and the urge to protect you (aka lock you up like you are some sort of mountain of gold)

Malleus always knew that there was a special connection between you and the Overseer but never in his wildest dreams would he have guessed that you were them

So, now our oh so peacefull and abslutely not member of what is more or less a cult has found his God. What could go wrong?

(*sigh* we both know that this won’t end well…)

Malleus has prepared all his life for this even though he had always been told that there was also a pretty good chance that you wouldn’t necessarily descend durig his lifetime (and now remember that he is a Fae, this tells a lot)

Mhm. Congrats! You are now rich! Huh? But you want to leave this room? But why? He has prepared everything just for you! Is something to your disliking? Do you need more? Just your freedom? No, he isn’t keeping you imprisoned, just safe from the dangers of the outside world

Just leave everything to him. You have been in so muchh danger all this time so now it’s his turn to make up for that. Oh thank you so much for telling him that there is a red stain on his clothing. Seems like that imbicle will always be an annoyance, even after he asked them to “leave” so kindly.

Once more: HOW??!

This annoyance of a Fae has prayed to you for hundrets of years this should be impossile

But ok, let’s assume that for some reason he couldn’t recognise you

Remember that crisis I mentioned in Malleus part? Well, he is probably more destructive than that crisis (probably even double)

Is ready to jump on everything that talks even somewhat without respect for you (or at least when he thinks they do)

Also, he is sharpening his toothpicks, ready to end whatever made you leave

You better step forward and just tell him that you are whom he calls the Overseer because at least fife students have gone missing under mysterious circumstances

But mhm, he is ready to watch the world burn

Let´s just say that that sixth sense finally fixed itself to move on with the scenario

So one day, good old you is just wanting to go out for, let’s say groceries, and nearly step on a Fae who is kneeling in front of your door

Before all of this you were already a close friend to the former general and not to get surprised hugged by him was absolutely flabbergasting to you

Privacy? What is privacy?

Lilia will always be there whether you are eating or sleeping. The only moment you are alone is when you are changing your clothes or using the Bathroom and even then he is standing in front of the door

Let us all remember that he was fighting in a war in your name so there is always that paranoia that you will be somehow harmed

But let us not fool ourselves, he is also doing this out of selfish reasons

After all, he can see you, hear your voice, did his hand just brush yours and OH MY GOD IS HE CREEPY

[nothorses]

when people say that all trans people aren't affected by "male/female socialization" because we internalize whatever genders socialization, i dont think thats completely accurate? like i know for a fact that i, as a trans man (whos not out) and my sister got treated differently growing up then my brothers. even if i did internalize messages about how "boys should be" (which i dont even really think i did, because i do still have feminine mannerisms and have always hated toxic masculinity), wouldn't just the way youre treated, as a female child vs a male child, really play a big impact on you? i can confidently say that if i were a cis man, my personality would be different.

i think people get too held up on the idea that "trans women have "male socialization"" to mean that they are more likely to have toxic masculinity and be aggressive, which is obviously what TERFs claim and isnt true, but dismiss the idea that your agab has a HUGE role in the way you are treated as a child and how you grow up.

and i dont mean to say that there is some kind of "universal afab/amab experience" or whatever, because that is blatantly untrue, just to say that even in parents who are consciencely trying to eliminate gendered bias in their parenting, its so ingrained in our society, that even they don't treat their children 100% the same

Yeah, I think there are two positions here that get parroted most often:

1. Trans people are socialized the way their AGAB is normally socialized

Which is typically used to reinforce bio-essentialist ideology and claim trans women are more aggressive/prone to predatory and dangerous behavior, and that trans men are helpless, whiny, and bitchy. (see: TERF ideology, typical transphobia)

2. Trans people are socialized the way their actual gender is normally socialized

Which is used to reinforce gender-essentialist ideology (trans women are helpless, whiny, and bitchy, and trans men are aggressive/prone to predatory and dangerous behavior), and transmedicalism- which often suggests that any amount of AGAB socialization means you aren't "really trans".

Most people who oppose concepts like "transandrophobia" will ascribe to the second set of beliefs, and insist that the only alternative to it is the first set of beliefs- i.e., they argue that it's transmisogynistic to imply that trans people are not socialized strictly as the gender they actually are (trans women as women and trans men as men), because otherwise they must be socialized as the gender they were assigned at birth (trans women as men, and trans men as women), and that's an idea TERFs and other transphobes use to justify transmisogynistic ideas.

Which, of course, means that either you must agree that trans men are socialized like cis men to be aggressive, domineering, and oppressors- or else you must hate trans women.

But there's obviously a more nuanced take here.

3. Trans people are not socialized exactly like their cis counterparts. Trans people internalize lots of different messages about gender- often a combination from different genders- and this varies by individual experience and personal relationship to gender.

i.e., trans women as a group are not trained to be aggressive and predatory; nor are trans men. Trans people have unique experiences with socialization, and the messages one internalizes about gender cannot be predicted or assumed.

(I would also argue that socialization itself is a bit of a flawed concept; cis people also receive and internalize messages about their genders very differently, and those things can and do evolve over time as well. Socialization is real in the sense that society tries to socialize people to fill certain gendered roles, but how successful it is will vary widely on an individual basis.)

[read-marx-and-lenin]

>What would you do if your desires contradicted the desires of another individual egoist? How would your egoist society deal with two people wanting to build a house in the same spot? Then I'd probably try to resolve it peacefully, via some sort of trade, move to another spot, or, possibly violence. In any case it would be in my logical best interest to make violence a last resort.

If the individual egoists have a right to use violence to enact their will upon other individual egoists, then what exactly is preventing your society from arranging itself into a feudal society just as existed the last time humanity lived in pre-industrial conditions? How exactly is folks duking it out whenever they can't come to a peaceful resolution conducive to individual freedom and autonomy?

The regulations placed upon by the natural world are significantly different than those placed upon by fellow humans. [...] The fact that it is humans causes unique humiliation. Imagine if you were to fall over. You would feel much more angry if you were pushed by a human, than if you were tripped by a tree root.

It is an emotionally significant difference, but not a materially significant difference. You have fallen over either way. You have starved either way. Collective, industrial labor can protect you from starvation a lot better than individual "primitive" labor can, and so I feel any "humiliation" one may experience by having to work alongside other people towards a collective goal is offset by the benefits of collectivization.

In a modern industrial society, your work is far easier than that of a quasi-primitive [...] or primitive man, this is by your own admission. Due to this fact, the feeling of being "unsatisfied with one's job" is abundant. To fill this need for satisfaction with their labor, people create surrogate activities for themselves. [further summarization of the Unabomber manifesto follows]

I've read the Unabomber's manifesto (Industrial Society and its Future). I'm familiar with the claims he makes.

My first disagreement is that Kaczynski (and you by extension) routinely conflate industrial technology with the social system of capitalism and thus assume that there exists a unique "industrial society" separate from capitalism that is responsible for all modern socio-psychological ills, and so if we were to abandon capitalism but retain industrial technology, then these socio-psychological ills would remain despite our best efforts. I believe, conversely, that the evidence shows that these ills are by and large the product of poverty and abuse, and that the more the social issues endemic to capitalism are addressed and ameliorated, the more these ills are ameliorated and eliminated.

My second disagreement is with Kaczynski's concept of the "power process", which his ideas of "surrogate activities" and his conception of autonomy come from. He is quite frankly just extrapolating his own experience as a middle-class white man living in the US to be a universal experience, and his own particular complexes with regards to individual power and autonomy as necessary for the human psyche with a "biological basis".

If I were to give him the greatest benefit of the doubt, I would say that what he is describing is in actuality the alienation of capitalist society. However, where Kaczynski inverts the Marxist conception of alienation is in presupposing that the pursuit of one's means of subsistence as an individual in the wilderness is inherently less alienating than industrial labor. He elevates and sanctifies pre-technological "primitive" labor as "natural" and thus more suited to the human psyche than modern activities.

In any case, the Unabomber's manifesto is a thoroughly reactionary work that decries the modern decline in "traditional values", explicitly proclaiming racial and gender equality and LGBT rights to be socially negative. He mythologizes the US settler colonial frontier lifestyle, treating it as an example of the type of society he thinks is ideal while ignoring the fact that these settlers were dependent on both the "collectivist" indigenous nations and the industrial cities they left behind for their survival. He harps on about how we must only organize into "SMALL" groups of six people or less to preserve individual freedom and autonomy, basically treating the nuclear family as natural and trans-historical despite the fact that humans routinely organize themselves into groups of hundreds of people within contemporary hunter-gatherer societies. Kaczynski was an ignorant and bigoted man who thought he knew what was best for everyone else and murdered innocent people to make a statement.

in an Industrialized society, a failure to satisfy the [power process] leads to mental suffering, while in a quasi-primitive society it leads to death. The reason the latter is preferable is because death is either a neutral or good thing. This is because when you die, you simply stop existing. You feel nothing in this state.

Even if I agreed with the idea that there is an epidemic of mental suffering caused by a lack of sufficient exertion in the pursuit of our individual needs, I would not agree that death is preferable. Kaczynski himself admits that what he calls surrogate activities are not universally unsatisfying. He asserts that either "many" or "most" people are unsatisfied, but he does not go so far as to say that all people are. He simply decries those who are satisfied as "weak" and slaves to the system.

Either way, as Kaczynski defines his view of freedom as necessarily involving the freedom to go out in the wilderness and live a subsistence lifestyle, then I say we can set aside some plot of land sufficient enough for however many people who want to live this lifestyle. If they decide to stay, then they can. If they don't, then they can come back. Since I don't think that there exists any power process and since I think that the mental anguish he describes is a result of capitalism and not industry, I don't see such a lifestyle catching on anytime soon.

I like being proud of something here because when you feel pride you feel good[.]

But you arbitrarily declare the pride one feels from collective achievement to be the result of a "surrogate activity" and thus inherently lesser than individual achievement. Kaczynski did not make a distinction between individual and collective activities when defining his surrogate activity, his distinction was between whether or not the goal satisfied one's physical needs. Kaczynski gave multiple examples of individual goals that one could be proud of accomplishing that were still surrogate activities, such as individual scientific and artistic achievements, or hunting for sport.

I don't think there is good reason to believe that industrial technology is inherently alienating or that it is better for the human psyche to be primarily engaged in individual subsistence labor. I don't believe that activities that do not contribute to satisfying one's physical needs are "decadent" (in Kaczynski's words) or otherwise mentally harmful to the individual. I don't agree that there is a minimum amount of subsistence activity that a person must engage in in order to maintain their sanity. Why should I believe any of these things?

>What reason do you have to believe the superstructure is independent of the base rather than dependent on it? Because one can easily imagine a feudal sci-fi world or a Communist agrarian one.

That one can imagine a thing does not mean that thing can exist in the real world. That is the difference between utopian and scientific socialism.

>But in your individual egoist society built around might makes right, you have not eliminated coercion. On the contrary, you have made it more blatant and violent by eliminating any social means of mitigating and preventing coercion and abuse. There will still be coercion, but I'd rather have my safety be in my own hands rather than in the hands of a state or commune that I have no possibility of ever individually standing up for my own ego to.

How would your safety be any greater in a society built around the supremacy of the stronger individual? Do you believe you could win any one-on-one fight, let alone a fight against two or more people? Again, what is preventing your egoist society from turning feudal?

>I think you would change your mind on that pretty quickly if you were diabetic. Well, given the fact that since the Industrial revolution happened, cases of diabetes have been increasing significantly, I'd say it'd be pretty unlikely most people'd get it.

There are aspects of modern lifestyles that has led to an increase in type-2 diabetes, but diabetes is not an inevitable consequence of industrial production, nor is it the case that elimination of industrial production would lead to the elimination of diabetes, especially type-1 diabetes which is primarily genetic in cause and is the type most reliant on insulin therapy in the first place.

I'll always do what's in my best interest[.] [...] I'd be willing to die at 30 from natural causes if it meant I lived a free and fulfilled life.

And I'm perfectly fine with people who think like you being free to live in the wilderness as autonomously as you want, so long as you aren't hurting anyone else. I'm not objecting to your ideas because I think you as an individual should be forced to work in a factory. I'm objecting to your ideas because I think a society built around them would lead to massive amounts of physical suffering and death.

Our hyper-specialization is, again, relative to an Industrial society. In a quasi-primitive society, we all have, more or less, the same set of skills. Some people may choose to expand the domain of their abilities[.] [...] These specializations will not be undergone by a majority of people, who will live hunter-gatherer existences. [...] This is contrasted to a Hyper-specialized society, where each individual is focused on a narrow part of the entire Industrial machine.

But why wouldn't more people specialize? How do you think we got to where we are today? Are the anarcho-primitivist egoists going to form a special order and go around burning down farms and pastures every time someone tries to re-invent agriculture? It's absurd to think that everyone will just abandon farming out of their own free will.

What is the mechanism through which your egoist anarcho-primitivist society could be achieved, and what is the mechanism through which it would be maintained?

alright.

I'll start with Lenin first, then move to Marx. Lenin was an autocrat and a dictator. There's no way around it. He was unelected and created a one-party state. This was due to the fact that the revolution was led by a vanguard, which the members of, once they succeeded in overthrowing the old government, could easily set up a self-serving dictatorship. He's not a Marxist, and he's not a Socialist.

Since Lenin obviously did not in any way uphold the vision of Marx, I'll tackle him separately. A (stateless) communist society does eliminate many hierarchies, but leaves the most coercive systems untouched. Those being: the hierarchy of the collective over the individual and that coercion required of industrialism. In a commune, one's individual vote is negligible, since the outcome is only affected by one person's vote in very rare circumstances. Once the votes are tallied, the individual is expected to conform to the decisions of the majority, and to accept the commune's laws and customs. This leads to the individual becoming feeling helpless and weak.

Secondly, Marxism fails to address the coercion required to make an industrial society function. In order to have products, you must have a payroll of workers to stand where they are told to stand and do what they are told to do and go home and show up to work when they are told to do it. Instead of working towards goals that are immediate, which directly affect one's condition (such as building a house to live in), one must do a task or set of tasks that ultimately has little to do directly with one's own material well-being. Instead, the hyperspecialized work required in an industrial society is made livable indirectly via trade. This leads to a dependence on the industrial system as a whole, which requires a massive amount of cohesion to function.

Humans are no longer permitted to act autonomously since doing so would be a hindrance to the system. Behaviors which are not conducive to the system are disallowed, but all unimportant facets of our life which do not interfere with the functioning of the system are permitted to grow within said limits.

Lenin was elected as Chairman of the Council of People's Commissars by the Congress of Soviets a total of nine times before his death. His position was not one elected by the people directly, but rather he was elected by the congressional representatives of the soviets who were themselves elected by the people. You can argue that his position should have been directly elected if you want, but you cannot say he was unelected. Regardless, while the Chairman of the CPC was the head of government of the RSFSR, and later the Soviet Union, the CPC was not a one-person council and the council as a whole was subordinate to the Central Executive Committee, which was in turn subordinate to the Congress of Soviets. Lenin was not an autocrat or a dictator; he did not hold sole legal authority and the Soviet government had numerous checks and balances.

I see no reason to believe a vanguard party or a one-party state is undemocratic. The USSR was a dictatorship, but not a dictatorship of one person. It was a dictatorship of the proletariat, as the bourgeoisie were stripped of the right to vote and to be elected. You can object to this if you like, but I personally don't think that was a bad decision.

You seem to be arguing that Lenin was neither Marxist nor socialist because the nascent Soviet Union was not yet classless or stateless. Yet why should it have been expected to be? Communism is not something that can be achieved overnight, or even in one generation. In the meantime, there must be some mechanism for suppressing and overthrowing the bourgeoisie. No matter how democratic, how horizontal, and how people-oriented that mechanism is, it still constitutes a state insofar as it constitutes an organ for the oppression of one class by another. Unless you are arguing that the rights of the bourgeoisie should be maintained and protected, you cannot escape this fact.

At the point of achieving a stateless, classless communist society, I don't see why decision-making would necessarily be performed through simple majority vote. While it's rather pointless in my mind to be speculating about how a hypothetical communist society of the future might function, I think it's safe to say they'd be far more capable of exploring alternative forms of decision-making than we are now. In any case, the question of how a future communist society might function is entirely separate from questions of past and present systems of government.

You are right to point out that the industrial mode of production requires collective and specialized activity in order to function, but I fail to see what the alternative is. Humans are a social animal, our production has always been collective and we have always benefited from specialization in labor. The advancement in industry has made possible a reduction in socially necessary labor time, not an increase. It is capitalism and the profit motive that has mandated long hours and low autonomy in the workplace, not industry itself.

People are not inherently stupid or self-centered. They can understand very well the relationship between one sector of industry and another. You do not need to be building a house to understand how, for instance, the nails you are manufacturing will be used to build houses and other goods. You do not need to be manufacturing nails to understand how the iron you are mining will be used to make nails and other goods. The idea that it is alienating to be engaged in a task that is socially beneficial rather than merely individually beneficial is absurd.

You talk about social cohesion as if it is impossible or undesirable. But again, what is the alternative? An incoherent, fragmented society? No society at all, and people just fend for themselves as individuals? I fail to see how anything less than social cohesion is desirable.

You say that industrial society is coercive and prevents people from acting autonomously. I say, what does it mean to act autonomously? Humans must satisfy our basic needs before we can think about engaging in autonomous activity. If you are starving, you are compelled to seek food. If you are freezing, you are compelled to seek shelter. Individual freedom is subordinate to our material conditions, and only through improving our material conditions can we satisfy our basic needs and guarantee individual freedom.

If we are to have a society where the individual freedoms of everyone are maximized, then we must have a society which guarantees everyone their basic needs. Food, shelter, clothing, medicine, education, transportation, communication, etc. All of these must be secured before a person has full freedom to act autonomously. Improving the quality of these things and the efficiency of their production improves the standard of living and reduces socially necessary labor time, which allows for greater degrees of freedom.

You say behaviors which are not conducive to the system are disallowed. I do not necessarily disagree, but I feel you are intentionally obscuring the nature of such behaviors. What is “the system” here? The system is society. So a behavior not conducive to society is an anti-social behavior, a behavior that impedes or harms other members of society. Why should these behaviors be allowed? Is it maximizing autonomy and freedom to allow someone to steal or rape or murder with impunity? No, it is merely trading someone else's freedom and autonomy for your own.

You can certainly maximize your own freedom and autonomy at the expense of others, but if we are to live in a society where the freedom and autonomy of everyone is to be maximized, then there must be certain limits to individual behavior for the sake of others. Maybe someday humanity will evolve to a state where one can live in their own private world with maximum freedom to do as they please without worrying about impacting others, but until that day we will have to live in a society with other people and the social restrictions that come with that. Personally, I don't think it's such a burden to have to care about other people.

Society as it stands today is indeed imperfect and often oppressive. Socialist states in the past and present have yet to achieve the classlessness and statelessness that marks higher-stage socialism, i.e. communism. They too are imperfect and have restricted people's behavior in various ways, some I would argue are necessary, and some I would argue are unnecessary. However, I believe that socialism offers us the greatest opportunity to improve society as a whole and liberate humanity from oppressive structures. I believe that capitalism remains the central impediment to the advancement of society and the pursuit of human freedom. I believe that a vanguard party and a dictatorship of the proletariat have been the most effective means of combating the bourgeoisie so far. And I believe that the advancement of science and industry has been the most effective means of securing and improving the basic needs of the people as a whole.

My question to you remains: what is the alternative? You can criticize all you want, and thoughtful and rational critique of all things is both important and beneficial, but unless you have an alternative to socialist revolution and industrial society, then you're just throwing the baby out with the bathwater. How are we to combat the bourgeoisie without a vanguard or a state? How are we to provide people with their basic needs without industrial production?

[latte-fairytaekwoon]

My Captain (Pirate! Park Seonghwa)

Pairing: Pirate! Seonghwa (Ateez)× Pirate! Reader (Female)

Genre: Smut, Fluff, Pirate AU.

Summary: After taking victory over the most notorious beast to plague the seas, the ship's quartermaster wants to relish in the pleasure of claiming one of his crew members.

Word Count: 3.5K

Warnings: Soft to Hard Dom! Seonghwa, Sub! Reader, body worship, oral (female and male receiving), spanking, face fucking, multiple orgasms, Captain/power kink, unprotected sex (always use protection), breeding kink, degradation.

Taglist: @little-precious-baby @multidreams-and-desires @galaxteez @yunhofingers @yunhoiseyecandy @deja-vux @brie02 @couchpotatoaniki @daniblogs164 @a-soft-hornytiny

⊱⋅ ──────────── ⋅⊰

The young woman exhaled deeply, her eyes trained on the hands which were currently unfastening the front lacings of her brown leather corset in a rather desperate and anxious manner.

"Before we get any further, I want your full and complete consent to what is about to happen."

Letting the article of clothing drop to the floor, the sailor in front of her took a step closer to her, his thumb pressing down across her bottom lip. His eyes became even more narrow as they looked at her mouth with hunger, wanting nothing more than to close the distance between them and press them against his own.

"Say no right now and I won't push the matter any further." He repeated himself, his Adam's apple moving abruptly from how hard he swallowed back a nervous lump of anxiousness and self restraint.

The young maiden took a deep breath and brushed her fingers across the white silk shirt the boat's quartermaster was wearing, the deep V neck allowing her a glimpse of his bare, tanned upper chest, the outline of his pectoral muscles peeking out. She hummed out an incomprehensible tune as she looked up at her superior.

"Does the Master Seonghwa need to make use of my body? Would he like to release his deepest passions on me?" She reached a hand up and caressed his cheek, half expecting him to swat her hand away since he was not known to be a gentle or affectionate lover, given the long list of women that have had the pleasure of being taken to bed by him. But unlike her expectation, the male actually let out a small and contents sigh, his face falling deeper into her touch, his hand reaching up to clasp it in his own before bringing it over to his lips where he placed a tender kiss on each of her fingertips. It confused the woman utterly to see the usually strict, ruthless and unmerciful pirate act so mellow, meek and warm, yet it also sent a flutter into her chest.

"What I want hardly matters right now, I can manage either way. But I need ... I must know if you're ok with this Y/N."

She widened her eyes when he called her by her name. On a daily basis, ever since she had been forced onto the life of piracy after they raided her village, he'd never addressed her with anything other than mean spirited and sometimes even cruel insults, as he did with those he deemed inferior to him. It shocked her greatly to think he even knew her name in the first place.

Taking a step away from him, Seonghwa's mouth parted in amazement when the crew member in front of him began to slide the sleeves of her dress off her shoulders, the fabric slowly sliding off her body until it pooled by her ankles, which she then swiftly kicked out of the way. His eyes beheld her nude figure, admiring from the top of her head all the way to her toes. She was simply mesmerizing, stunning, the most beautiful woman he had ever seen in all his years of sailing across different continents.

"I'm perfectly content with anything my lord wishes to do. He may do with me as he pleases. Tonight..... he is my Captain."

Seonghwa's black trousers suddenly felt too tight, the title Y/N bestowed on him affecting him greatly. She gasped softly when one of his arms held her by her waist and pulled her against him.

"Your captain..." He muttered softly, his lips ghosting across her cheek until they came up to the corners of her lip where he then pressed them down harder onto her face.

"Yes- my captain-"

The rest of her words were muffled when Seonghwa's mouth enclosed over hers, his luscious lips parting and then closing over and over against her own. His hand cupped at her chin, keeping her head tilted up as he practically devoured her mouth. His tongue never poked out to intrude into her wet cavern, his teeth however had an utter fascination with nibbling onto her bottom lip, tugging and pulling at them. Y/N groaned in surprise when she lost her footing as Seonghwa backed her up into the bed, his arm clutching her tighter against his body to keep her from falling. Inhaling softly, she inclined her neck back to allow Seonghwa to plaster nibbling pecks along her skin, subtle red patches spreading around it.

His hands moved from her waist to caress her further down, his thumbs pressing down against her hip bones. Her satin like skin was practically inviting him to caress and admire every inch of her, and that was exactly what he planned to do. Starting in between her supple breasts, he slowly placed heartfelt and tender kisses that traveled from her sternum all the way to her abdomen, his knees slowly dropping so it would be easier for him. When he felt her pull slightly away, his hands pressed her further into his face, fingers digging into her thighs.

"Stay there." He told her as he dragged his tongue along one of her inner thighs, so near her core that Y/N held her breath when his nose neared her pubic bone.

"So pretty, and you smell so delicious." He mused out loud as his nose inhaled her arousal, tongue swiping across his lips.

Before he could even get to sample a bit of her juices, he was lifted off the ground by none other than the woman he was admiring, switching positions so now she was kneeling in front of him while he was standing.

"Y/N- what are you....?" He stood absolutely still, watching as she pulled his trousers down, freeing his painfully erect member that greeted her sight with tiny bursts of precum splashing onto the wooden floor underneath them.

"Tonight it's all about you, after all, you were brave today in taking down that vicious monster all by yourself. If it weren't for you, we'd all still be living in fear for the rest of our lives."

Gripping him at the base, she collected up some saliva in her mouth before spitting it around his length, wanting him to be properly lubricated before she started stroking him. His trembling hisses were music to her ears as she slowly pumped him, coating him even further, her eyes never looking away from his dazed look.

"It's only right you be rewarded as a captain deserves to be rewarded."

Seonghwa's mouth went agape, shuddered breaths coming out as he watched his cock disappear into Y/N's warm mouth. She didn't stop until she fit all of him inside, an impressive image to behold. She stilled for a few seconds before pulling him out, stopping when it was just his tip resting on her tongue and then proceeding to slide him right back in.

"Fuck- you're killing me beautiful." Seonghwa reached a hand up so his thumb could stroke one of her hollowed cheeks, full of his cock that she slurped on without hesitation. Y/N closed her eyes as she continued to savor Seonghwa's taste, long and slow strokes of her tongue making sure not one inch of him was left untouched or neglected. It swirled around the shaft before sucking onto him. Her hands came up to cup his balls, softly fondling them so that he may experiment the most pleasure possible. Seeing her look so calm, her mouth practically worshiping his cock, Seonghwa held back his urge to hold her head and slam his hips into her face. Instead he settled for running his fingers through her hair, brushing them up into a makeshift ponytail so that he may peer down at her with no distractions or anything intervening with the visual. During a particularly harsh suck she gave him, his hips had a mind of their own and pressed him back into her mouth, his tip reaching so far back that a muffled choke had her drooling slightly at the corners of her mouth.

"I'm sorry." He apologized when he saw her eyes shot open and she pulled him out of her mouth.

"Don't apologize my lord. As I said, do with me as you please. If you wish to fuck my face, then by all means, please do." She encouraged him as she pressed sloppy kisses along his head, tongue darting out to place kitten licks on his slit.

Taking hold of her jaw, Seonghwa positioned his tip at the entrance of her mouth, his face looking concerned, silently wondering if she was really ok with what he wanted to do. Nodding up at him, she opened her mouth as wide as she could and hummed in approval when he slid himself back into her mouth. She took a deep breath, readying herself for the coming assault upon her maw which came just as intense and fervent as she expected from him. Seonghwa rutted his hips up into her, using her hole to release most of the adrenaline that had been brewing in him ever since he went out in battle just a few hours prior.

"God! You have no idea how hot you look right now, letting me use your mouth like this. You're too good to me."

Hearing him suddenly praise her, a stark contrast to the daily criticism she only heard from him, had her getting more wet in between her legs. She moaned as she continued to lap at Seonghwa each time his cock forced itself back into her throat. Saliva ran down her chin from the force his body used to buck up into her mouth, his previously mannered thrusts now becoming less calculated and more spontaneous as his high was nearing.

"Fuck! I'm gonna cum! I'm gonna cum all over your-" His hands clasped her head and held it still as he roughly pumped his cum down her throat, which Y/N promptly swallowed fully. She was gasping for air when he pulled himself out of her, panting hard as she caught her breath. She wiped the slick that was glistening on her lips and chin.

"No woman has ever managed to make me cum with their mouth."

Y/N's head whipped up at Seonghwa's revelation. He was peering down at her with a curious yet smug smile.

"You're the first to do so. You really are too good to me." His index finger wiped off some leftover slick from her cupid's bow.

Y/N was practically purring at his words, reveling in his praise.

"My sweet and good girl, I think it's only fair if I pay you back." He chuckled heartily.

Swiping her off the ground, Seonghwa pulled back the covers of his bed and then layed Y/N down on it, her head falling back against one of the soft pillows. She could not protest when Seonghwa spread her legs, eagerly placing his face right above her wet core.

"You smell and look so delectable. I wonder how long it'll take for you to lose control."

With one hand pressing her down to the mattress, Seonghwa latched his lips to her sensitive clit, producing a loud whine out of his crewmate above him. He was bewitched by how amazing she tasted, his tongue relishing in her flavor. He couldn't contain himself as he lost himself in consuming her heat. Dipping his tongue into her hole had her spilling out more slick which he lapped at with great intensity. His lips smirked against her folds when he felt her try to buck up into his face, her whining sounding so needy for him.

"I could stay here forever." He murmured.

The hand that was keeping her down dropped down to grip one of her thighs while the other did the same thing. Lifting her hips slightly off the bed, Seonghwa became like a beast as he devoured the entirety of her sex. Y/N writhed underneath him. Before she was antsy about pushing herself closer to his lips, now she was squirming to draw away from him. But of course Seonghwa wasn't having that. He simply relished in working her up until she reached her peak, which seemed to be coming up very soon, his skilled tongue making sure of it. Y/N tossed her body about as much as she could, which wasn't much considering Seonghwa was holding tightly to her. He slurped at her as if his life depended on it, even his nose would rub against her mound from how hard he was burying himself in her.

"Seonghwa-" Y/N cried out when a sharp smack landed on her thigh.

"It's captain to you. Now go on, say it or else I'll stop right now and tie you to the bed." He ordered her, slowing down his movements just slightly.

"Oh my- captain! Please-"

Hearing her beg for him just riled Seonghwa even further, his ego boosting more as she whimpered and squirmed frantically, her juices pouring out from inside and collected by his tongue. His chest practically puffed up with pride as she continued to shudder even when her climax had passed and he was merely cleaning around her folds, not letting anything drip off onto the sheets since he wanted it all for himself.

Pulling back with an audible pop, he sat up and nearly ripped his shirt off his body, discarding it somewhere on the floor. Y/N marveled at the sight of his godly body making an appearance, her instincts making her reach out to touch him.

"Turn around, ass up and on all fours." He instructed her as he worked to take off the remainder of his clothes.

Rolling over on the soft bed, Y/N did as she was ordered to, making sure to push her ass as far as she could just for Seonghwa. He seemed to appreciate the gesture given his hand was now caressing one of her cheeks, starting off gentle and loving before pinching her flesh, which made Y/N groan.

"You're really begging me to fuck you." Seonghwa grunted as he brought his hand down to strike her ass.

Y/N clenched around nothing, shuddering at Seonghwa's harsh treatment.

"Is that what you want? You want me to fuck you? Want my cock to tear that pussy of yours?" He mercilessly teased as he glided his tip along her slit, slapping it against her nub.

"Y-yes! I want my captain to fuck me like one of his whores." Y/N exclaimed, unable to bear the wait any longer.

Seonghwa raised an amused eyebrow at her pleading.

"Oh? So you've heard some of the other sluts talk about me haven't you?" He said with a slight dark laugh that sent shivers down Y/N's spine, heightened more when Seonghwa plunged his cock into her, stilling when he was fully stuffed in her.

"Want to experience it firsthand then? Want to feel how good my cock will fuck your brains out?"

Y/N nodded frantically, wanting to slam herself onto Seonghwa's cock but restraining from doing so less it should result in him denying her what she wanted.

"Don't say you didn't ask for it."

A sharp cry was forced out of her mouth when Seonghwa pulled out with no warning only to slam himself back inside her. He set a rough pace, each deep stroke against her velvety flesh pulling out cry after cry out of her lips. It was sheer and painful bliss to have the ship's quartermaster tearing her insides apart, her heat pulsating against his length as it constricted around him. Seonghwa's tip plunged into the deepest part of her, slamming against the entrance of her womb as her plump ass rippled against each slam of his hips against them. Y/N's deafening moans were so loud she was sure the party above them could hear what was going on below them. She buried her face on the pillow underneath her, only laying there for less than a minute before a pair of hands harshly pulled her back up, a strangled gasp emanating from her throat.

"Don't you dare. I want everyone on board to listen to me destroy this little cunt of yours, I want them to hear you scream my name." He growled in a low and deep tone that her folds further clenching around him.

Y/N's face started to contort in ecstasy from all the pleasure burning through her body, her whiny pants and sobs flowing out endlessly from her lips. Seonghwa's pounding became more violent and brutal, losing himself in the mutual lust that was taking over both of their bodies, the heat and warmth of Y/N's slick filled walls throbbing against his shaft.

"You're close aren't you my little whore? You're gripping my dick impossibly tight." He snickered behind her, his hips continuing to jolt harshly into her.

"Yes captain! I'm so c-close." She responded loudly, her panting becoming more exhausted as her skin started to glow from the sheen of sweat that was stemming from their passionate affair.

"So am I, my cock is twitching to fill you up with my seed."

Y/N nearly drooled at the thought of having Seonghwa cum inside her hole, filling her up until she couldn't contain his cum anymore. She was snapped out of her fantasy by Seonghwa's hand that struck her ass.

"Beg me for it you wench. Beg me to fill your cunt with my cum." He commanded her.

"Please my lord! Fill me up with your cum! Want my captain's cum inside of me!" She pleaded, hands nearly tearing the pillow she was clutching so tightly.

Seonghwa's eyes were like a raging sea, his thrusts becoming more sporadic as he worked to bring the both of them over the edge.

"Shit! I'll fill this hole of yours up, I'll fuck it full until it drains me of all my cum. Wanna see your pussy stuffed with my seed."

With walls fluttering around him, Y/N was a frantic and screaming mess as an agonizingly hard and euphoric chord snapped in her, prompting her body to burst open as her essence poured out all over Seonghwa's cock. Seonghwa himself was hissing and grunting fiercely as a wave overtook him, drowning him in an abyss of pleasure while his release flooded into Y/N's cavern, her walls hardly able to contain all that he pumped into her that some of it trickled down her thighs. With curses befitting his status as a sailor, Seonghwa pulled himself out of her warmth and collapsed next to her, eyes wide open as his chest heaved up and down with labored breathing. The girl beside him was in no greater state as she felt an intense ache and burn when he slipped out of her, her thighs and legs still trembling after having her superior conquer her body.

Through clenched teeth, Y/N moved one foot to rest on the hard floor so it could help stabilize her as she tried to get up. Remembering all the stories Seonghwa's previous affairs recounted about him not liking to have them around after messing around with them, Y/N slowly began to sit up and show herself out before the quartermaster himself ordered her out his chamber.

"Where are you running off to?" He questioned, hand reaching out to clasp her own before she slipped out of the bed.

"I was just going to collect my clothes and withdraw to my own room Sir. If you'd like, I'll even take your clothes with me and return them clean to you in the morning." She offered, knowing he was an avid clean freak that hated even the slightest bit of dirt or dust around his space.

"Don't worry about the mess Y/N, we can sort that out tomorrow. Stay for tonight, I insist. It looks like it'll be a cold and rainy night as well and I know your quarters tend to leak."

Without even waiting for her response, he tugged her back by his side, covering them both up with the blankets. Y/N stared off in confusion when Seonghwa pressed his chest to her back, an arm slung protectively around her. She began to question so many things surrounding her quartermaster. Didn't he dislike her? Why was he still keeping her around when he's notorious for not liking affection? He discarded all his previous lovers as if they were used rags, so why was he not doing the same to her?

"Don't think too much about it, just go to sleep and rest up." He seemed to be reading her thoughts, his nose nestling against the crook of her neck as he hugged her tighter to him.

"Yes....thank you my lord."

Seonghwa whined tiredly at her response.

"Seonghwa. Just call me Seonghwa..... my love."

He must have really been so tired and out of it for him to blurt out that endearment to her. Y/N blushed, unable to contain the shy smile on her face.

"Yes Seonghwa."

[ragingbookdragon]

The Secrets Best Left In The Dark

Batsis x Batfamily One-Shot

Word Count: 4K Warnings: Angst, Mentions of Death

Author's Note: I thrive on angst, so I have no apologies for y'all. Enjoy! -Thorne

They’d never claim their eldest sibling was cowardly. Far from it, she put her life on the line every day, in and out of the suit, defending those she cared for with a strength that they’d never seen in anyone. But while everyone in their family was typically hot-tempered and ready for a beatdown, she was calm and quiet. Always kind, and never letting anger, or any type of other emotion show besides pleasantness. For a while, they merely assumed she was the doormat type, simply on the basis that she never argued with their dad over anything—the whole “It’s my way or the highway” and his way was what she always went with—and that made her seem like an alien surrounded by humans because everyone argued with Bruce. That, and the fact that whenever she got into the rare fight during patrol, she’d never hit anybody. She was trained to take down multiple combatants and not once did she ever punch, hit, or kick a single person.

It was practically abnormal to be in the Batfamily and never lay a hand on a criminal, and yet that was what their sister did. Hardly ever did she use force to get what she wanted, always relying on stealth. Even on the minute cases when she got caught in an infiltration and had to fight her way out, she used electrified gauntlets to subdue them, rarely coming to blows. So, in a sense while everyone in her family was an aggressive fighter, she was a defensive—or perhaps a passive one—and that’s how she acted in life too. Always passive by nature, but always playing the peacekeeper between brothers and between fathers and sons.

They never knew why she was such a way, from the stories that Diana and Clark used to tell, back when it was just their sister and Bruce, she was a whirlwind that got into fights with anything that dared breathe in her direction—apparently, she made her angriest siblings look like mice. But no matter how many times they pried or even asked Bruce (apparently, he didn’t know what changed either—and this was coming from the World’s Greatest Detective), she never talked about it, simply saying that she grew out of always being angry and wanted to be calmer.

They suspected she held a dark secret—but no one could’ve prepared for just how dark and damaging it had been to her all these years.

***

In hindsight, taking a trip into Scarecrow’s lab was a bad idea, but when the offer had come up in the cave from her father, (Y/N) was happy to lend a hand, knowing that with his recent injury, he wouldn’t’ve been able to get out there during the night. It was also amazing, in the twenty-seven years she’d been alive, and in the past nineteen years that she’d been a vigilante, she’d never seen her father take a break—she could count on one hand how many times he had, and even then, he was still working in the cave, so technically it wasn’t a break.

But after tangling with Bane and Croc, he’d broken a few ribs and after repeated complaints and worries from her, his sons, and Alfred, Bruce finally agreed to let his children handle patrol. Which is why when the quadrants of the city were split up between Dick, Jason, Tim, and Damian, it left (Y/N) to pick up specific places that Bruce wanted checked out—she warmly agreed to do so. And while she was confident in her abilities to do everything, he asked of her, she should’ve called for backup when it came to infiltrating Scarecrow’s hideout.

***

Another vent went off above her and she ducked, eyes narrowing as she watched the orange fog, appearing blue through her detective mode, drift out. She would’ve sprayed it, but she’d used up all of her explosive gel covering the others. Now she simply had to avoid them and hope that her gas mask filtered properly—so far, it was. A shrill laugh echoed through the speakers above her, and shivers went down her spine.

Anytime now, Batgirl. You will fall too.

She frowned. “I’m not afraid of you, Doctor Crane.” Ducking under another pipe, she added, “I can help you if you’ll let me.”

Help me? Help…ME? You can’t even help YOURSELF!

Scarecrow had always been a talker, much like the majority of the villains they faced, and he was looking for a rise. She came to the end of the corridor where the pipes met a brick wall and she sighed, searching for a way through. A vent covered the top right corner and she pulled out the grapple gun, pointing it at the grate. She pressed the trigger and it latched onto the metal bars; grasping the cord, she yanked as hard as she could, stepping backwards when it fell, hitting the ground with a clang.

(Y/N) heaved herself up into the vent and crawled on her hands and knees, as quietly as she could, twisting and turning through the maze of confined metal. When she came to the end, another grate covered the exit and she pressed her foot against it, pushing until the bolts popped loose and she could slip out.

From the looks of it, if the advanced chemistry equipment were any help, she’d ended up in Scarecrow’s lab. He wasn’t in sight, but that gave her time to look around and see if he’d changed any formulas recently. She raised her wrist and tapped at the blue screen, taking a moment to run a program. When it beeped, (Y/N) sighed in relief and reached up, pulling the gas mask off—the air was clean.

She set the mask down on the counter and put a finger to her ear. “Batman, do you read me?” His voice came through a moment later.

“I read you Batgirl. Loud and clear.”

“I’m in Doctor Crane’s lab,” she said, poking around at the notes he’d scrawled out. “I don’t see anything new. The formulas all look the same.”

“Compounds?”

She frowned and read. “Honestly, it’s a bit hard to decipher. His handwriting is a lot like Red’s when he’s had one too many energy drinks.” A quiet huff came from over the line, telling her that he was amused. “I’ll send you pictures of it and see if you can.” (Y/N) snapped a few photos. “Get ‘em?”

“Just now,” he replied, and she walked over to one of the lit Bunsen burners.

“Looks like he’s got something brewing right now though,” (Y/N) leaned over and peered into it, careful to avoid any steam that was rising.

“Recognize it?”

She paused. “It’s not the usual stuff he’s got. It looks almost golden and—”

All at once the dish exploded and she had just enough time to cover her face from the shattering glass, letting out a gasp as she recoiled.

“Batgirl, what happened?”

(Y/N) coughed and waved a hand, and when her hand appeared double, she breathed out in shock. “Oh no,” she whispered.

“Batgirl, report.” She hurried to the exit of the lab as Scarecrow’s cackle sounded overhead.

“I’ve been hit with a blast of toxin.” Pulling open the door, she fumbled with her utility belt then let out a sigh.

“What’s wrong?”

(Y/N) shook her head and weaved down the corridors, the faster she got to her bike, the faster she could get back to the cave.

“I don’t have any anti-toxin on me.” She pushed against the doors and stumbled out into the cold and rainy night. Her mind was already beginning to fog over as she climbed onto her bike, and she barely had enough focus to keep it steady while she programmed it to auto-drive.

“I’m sending one of the boys to you.”

She grunted and lifted her foot as the bike revved and shot forward. “Don’t. I’ve already programmed the bike to the cave’s coordinates. I’ll be back in less than fifteen minutes.”

“You won’t make it that long.”

(Y/N) groaned as the lights began to flash around her and she saw faces and images passing her. “I just have to…focus.”

Horns blared around her as the bike weaved in and out of cars and she held onto the frame with all the strength she had. His voice started echoing in her ears and she shut her eyes, trying to block it out.

You could’ve saved me.

Another groan escaped her, and she heard, “(Y/N), talk to me.”

She shook her head. “I can’t—I have to—focus now.” But with every passing second, his voice got louder and more insistent.

You let me die. You watched me die.

(Y/N)’s eyes filled with tears and they dripped down her cheeks. I tried to save you. she thought, hoping it would suffice, but she knew it wouldn’t. I tried so hard to. The last thing she remembered was turning onto the street that led to the cave.

***

Bruce was already pushing away from the Batcomputer when the boys arrived back at the cave, Dick and Damian from the Batmobile, and Tim and Jason from their own rides. Knowing that their father wasn’t one to sit around, it wasn’t out of the ordinary for him to be moving, but with how quick and worried his movements seemed, they knew something was wrong.

Dick pulled the cowl away from his face and asked, “B? What’s wrong?”

Bruce didn’t respond at first, hurrying towards the medical station they had. “Your sister was dosed with fear toxin and she doesn’t have anti-toxin to counteract it.”

Jason, who’d already taken his hood off, was already in the process of putting it back on. “Let one of us take it to her.”

Their father shook his head, rummaging for an antidote. “She’s coming back here.”

“Here?” Tim repeated, striding over. “Fear toxin works within seconds on normal people, minutes for us.” He looked at his brothers. “She won’t have enough time to get back here and not be under the effects.”

Bruce nodded, focusing as he poured a vial of glowing green liquid into the needle gun. “I know.” He looked at Tim. “That’s why I’m getting it ready for her.”

“Father, can we do anything?” Damian questioned, pulling away the domino mask from his eyes.

“Get ready to be on the defensive if she’s offensive,” he replied. “I don’t think she’ll hit anybody, but you never know.”

“She can’t hit that hard. (Y/N) only weighs—” Jason cut off as the rev of an engine cut though the air and they turned to see their eldest sister coming in on a sleek black motorcycle, that was shaking badly.

“(Y/N)!” Dick yelled and the bike suddenly shifted and toppled sideways, throwing her from it. It slid across the cave floor in a hail of sparks, metal, and plastic flying in every direction as (Y/N) rolled too.

They started running towards her, hoping to stop her when her back collided with one of the glass cases that held their suits, and she went limp.

Bruce reached her first, and knelt down, setting the antidote aside to check her first. The way she hit the case and with how hard, it was possible that she could be seriously injured—or worse.

“(Y/N)!” he called, hands coming to pull her away from the case. She whimpered and he let out a sigh—she was still alive. “(Y/N), can you hear me?” he inquired, reaching up to pull the cowl from her face.

Her brothers crowded behind him and they all stared in horror as tears streamed down her cheeks, and blood out of her nose.

“I’m sorry,” she bawled. “I tried to save you.” Bruce looked at her then grabbed the needle gun, bringing it up to her neck.

“Hang on, (Y/N). You’re gonna be okay.”

She grabbed his hand and cried, “I held on as long as I could, but my grip was slipping. I’m sorry I couldn’t hold onto you. I’m sorry I let you go. I let you die. I’m sor—” her sobs cut her off as she curled in on herself, and as if finally snapping out of a trance, Bruce pulled his hand from her grip and pulled the trigger of the gun.

(Y/N) jerked as the needle entered her skin and they watched the neon green liquid in the vial emptied. She fell into whimpers and mumbles of “I’m sorry” before her eyes rolled back and she collapsed in Bruce’s arms.

He stared at her for a second, feeling numb at his daughter’s admissions. Whatever her fear had been, it’d been there a long time, and he had no idea what it was about. Sighing heavily, he drew his eyes to his sons, to Jason.

“Will you take (Y/N) to her bedroom while I get an IV ready?”

Jason nodded and bent down, picking up his unconscious sister. He tucked her head in the crook of his neck and looked at Dick. “Get the doors, yeah?” Dick nodded and hurried ahead of him, while Tim and Damian followed in suit.

Bruce was left alone in a matter of moments, and all he could do was rise to his feet and ready the medical supplies, all the while, thinking back on every night that (Y/N) had gone on patrol in the last nineteen years—and the last time someone died in front of her.

***

Her head felt like an overripe melon ready to burst, and that first moment of cracking her eyes open was the biggest mistake since she told her dad what ‘Thot’ meant. The second she opened them, she shut them once more, inhaling deeply through her nose as the fog started to clear from her mind.

“Queenie, hey, you’re awake,” Jason murmured, and she nodded, blinking a few times before his face came into focus, Dick appearing Tim appearing behind him.

“Go get dad,” Dick said to someone, and she figured it was Damian since neither Jason nor Tim moved.

(Y/N) started shifting, trying to sit up when Dick put his hand on her shoulder, gentle, but firm as he said, “Don’t try to move, Barbie.”

“Where’s dad?” she asked, craning her neck to see.

“Damian’s going to get him sis,” Tim answered, smoothing out the blanket covering her. “Just relax. You took a beating when you came into the cave.”

“I did?” she questioned, eyes widening in shock when they nodded, faces pinched with worry.

The ceiling light turned on just bright enough to give sight and they looked at Bruce who was coming in, Damian following.

“(Y/N),” Dick moved, letting Bruce take his spot, and he took her hand in his, running his thumb over the back of her hand. “You had us all worried.”

She frowned and exhaled heavily. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to do that.” She gazed between them, and something in their eyes made an emotion she couldn’t describe rise in her chest.

“Why are you all looking at me like that?” (Y/N) met Bruce’s eyes. “What happened?” Before he could answer, she gasped and looked at her brothers. “I didn’t hurt anyone, did I?”

A chorus of hurried, “No’s!” rang out and she sighed in relief, reclining back on the pillows.

“Oh, thank goodness.” She went silent, then started, “But…something did happen, didn’t it?”

Her brothers glanced between themselves then they looked at Bruce who sighed and squeezed her hand, drawing her attention to him.

“What?” she asked and when he said nothing, she repeated, “Dad, what?”

His steel blue eyes met hers and he murmured, “You were apologizing for…letting someone die.”

Whatever had flashed in her eyes that told them she knew exactly what they were talking about was shocking enough because Jason said, “You don’t have to talk about it if you don’t wanna, Queenie.”

(Y/N) fell silent for a full minute and when she spoke again, her voice was quiet and the look in her eyes was far away. “Before Dick came to the manor it was just you and I patrolling Gotham. At eight, I wasn’t really let out of your sight, but one night I had wandered off while you were dealing with Two-Face.” She looked at Bruce. “I found an injured GCPD officer on a bridge. He had been tailing Killer Croc.”

She glanced at Tim. “His name was Grady Richards.”

Tim’s eyes fell to the tablet in his hands, and he tapped at the screen for a few moments, then read, “Hero cop Grady Richards honored after dying in line of duty. He fell off a broken bridge on Miagani Island.”

Bruce’s eyes found hers again. “He didn’t fall, did he?”

(Y/N) felt tears grow in her vision and she shook her head. “No…no he didn’t.” Inhaling deeply, she recounted, “Croc came back and there was no way either of us could’ve taken him, so we ran. And Croc chased us.” She shut her eyes, remembering the night.

***

Fear pulsed through her veins as she sprinted as far away from the overgrown crocodile as she could. The GCPD officer was ahead of her, but he stopped and spun around to see her.

“Hurry!” he yelled, pointing back to the car. “Get to the cruiser!”

She spared a glance over her shoulder, eyes going wide when she saw Killer Croc picking up one of the concrete guards.

“Duck!” was all she heard, and she hit the ground, watching as if in slow motion as it flew overhead, then smashed into the top of the cop’s car, glass and metal shattering under the pressure.

Someone grabbed her by the back of her suit and hauled her up, slinging her behind them, and the back of the GCPD officer’s uniform came into view.

“Start running, Batgirl! And don’t stop!” he yelled, and when he has his sidearm drawn, he looked down at her. “You’ve got as much time as I have bullets.” He turned, opening fire, and she took a moment to stare before scrambling to her feet to start running.

A cry of pain sounded behind her, and against her better judgement, she turned and looked, gaping as Croc’s arm sent the officer flying. He hit the guardrail and collapsed against it and her feet were moving before she could stop them.

The first punch went to the back of Croc’s knee and she knew it had to have hurt her more than it did him because he didn’t even flinch. But when those glowing yellow eyes peered down at her, she knew she was in trouble.

“Looks like I’ve got an appetizer for the night!” he laughed and reached for her, but she ducked and rolled out of his way, standing in front of the wounded GCPD officer, who weakly looked up at her.

“What are you—doing? I told you…to run.”

She couldn’t beat Killer Croc, and she knew it, but she shook her head and stared down the villain before her.

Croc’s attacks were wide and though she was small, she was pushed to her limit rolling and dodging every one. After a few moments, she was practically dead on her feet, huffing as her lungs begged for air. She kept wiping away the rain that splattered against her mask and on a particularly unlucky step, she found herself slipping.

And it was all the opening that Croc needed because he swiped at her and she flew backwards into the officer who’d managed to stand, just barely. Colliding with him tipped his balance and they went over the guardrail, barreling towards the ground.

She reached out as fast as she could and grabbed hold of the metal beam that ran the length of the under bridge, crying out in pain as it pulled the joints and bones. Her other hand gripped the officer’s and she held on tight. Croc leaned over the bridge, apparently not seeing them because his footsteps went off in the opposite direction, leaving them in silence.

Time passed and she wasn’t sure how long, but both her arms were getting tired, and she looked down at the officer.

“Sir?” she called, and he looked up at her. “You have to climb. I’m starting to lose grip.”

He tried to reach up but let out a cry and grabbed his side with his free hand. Pulling his hand away, she saw the crimson dilute with rainwater.

The hand that held the ledge began to cramp and she started hyperventilating. “Please, you need to hurry! I can’t hold on much longer!” Again, he tried, and she looked down at him as her fingers began to shake.

“I’m so sorry,” she whispered and let go of his hand, and the last thing she saw until he hit the ground was the sight of his eyes, wide with fear and pleading.

***

“I watched his head explode when he hit the ground,” she said, tears pouring down her cheeks as she stared out the window, watching the rain hit against the glass. “I had to make a choice. Either both of us died or one of us lived.” (Y/N) looked at Bruce. “And I chose my life over his.”

No one could believe their ears at the story she’d told, but suddenly, the self-sacrificing attitude their sister had, the way she’d bend over backwards for anyone, made perfect sense—she did it out of atonement, for a wrong she carried since she was eight years old.

“I pulled myself back up onto the bridge and I ran as far as I could and didn’t look back,” she said. “I kept my mouth shut when the paper ran his story and never told anyone about it.”

(Y/N)’s breath shuddered. “I just pushed it down as far inside me as I could and tried to forget about it.” Her eyes met Bruce and she tearfully stated, “But every time I closed my eyes, I saw his face.”

He leaned forward and took her hand. “Why didn’t you tell me?” he asked softly, dark brows furrowed in hurt.

She swallowed thickly and shook her head as she replied, “I killed someone that night. I was terrified about what you would’ve said. About what you would’ve done.” He gazed at her and (Y/N) whispered, “I’m sorry, dad.”

Bruce dropped her gaze and took a deep breath before murmuring, “It was just an accident, (Y/N).”

“I let go of—”

“I would’ve been more upset having to bury my daughter,” he interrupted, and she fell silent, gaping at him. He searched her face and reached up, placing a hand on her cheek. “I understand why you kept this secret, but you should’ve come to me, (Y/N).” Shaking his head, he added, “You didn’t deserve to be buried under this for nineteen years.”

“I’m sorry,” she said, lowering her head and Bruce shook his head in response.

“No, I’m sorry.” When she met his eye, he continued, “I’m sorry I didn’t know you were carrying this. Then and now.”

(Y/N) swallowed and rested back against the bed. “I send his widow money on the anniversary of his death. I slip it into the pension she’s given.” She let out a sigh. “It’s the only way I’ve found that I could sleep at night.”

Her eyes drifted to the window and Bruce placed a kiss to her forehead. “Get some sleep, sweetheart.” She nodded and before he left, he said, “And when you feel up for it, we’ll see about setting up a fund in his name.”

She wished it didn’t make her as emotional as it did, but silent tears dripped down her cheeks as the door closed, leaving her and her brothers alone. They gathered on her bed, leaning close to offer their support, and she was thankful for them doing so. And for the first time in nineteen years, when (Y/N) closed her eyes, she didn’t see Grady Richards’ face.

[cherrywoes]

cuddle headcanons. (ft. diluc and kaeya.)

title: cuddle headcanons

characters: diluc and kaeya (separate.)

fandom: genshin impact

requests: open.

rating: nice and fluffy

a/n: thank you @sullen-angel24! i'm glad to see you in my ask box dear! <3 istg kaeya's was throwing me for a loop so i went with my best interpretation of his personality and in-game actions thus far. i'm a kaeya main and i struggle to write him smh. anyway! i hope you enjoy it! <3

diluc: cuddle headcanons

i feel like diluc would be one of those people who are intentionally a little skittish around intimate contact of any kind, but secretly loves it on the inside,,,

like there are only so many ways he can express his emotions through his words, usually which come out either wrong or not quite what he meant, so he can convey his emotions better through small actions, whether that be a hug or something else *wink wonk*

but on a more serious note, i do believe diluc is an actions over words kind of guy. he values actions over words, at least, because they mean more to him than anything you could say in the long run.

so cuddling with diluc would more than likely be a "behind close doors" affair, so to speak, he isn't fond of public affection and would much prefer it to be on his terms in a place where he feels safe.

that said!

cuddling with diluc is like cuddling with a heater. it can be comfy, depending on the weather (dragonspine) or it can be absolutely awful depending on the heat (mondstadt or liyue), but either way, the man runs pretty hot on a regular basis due to his abilities, so cool clothing--or none at all--is a must.

diluc very rarely wears much of anything because of it (this is if nighttime cuddles are a thing) so you'd have to be comfortable with an unusual amount of skinship with him. at first he might be a little wary and wear clothes, for propriety's sake, but would quickly grow weary of the whole thing and be as comfortable as possible.

since diluc has strong upper body strength (he has to, being a claymore wielder) he has a rather firm grip when it comes to holding you to his chest. it is pleasant and comfortable, not too hard and not too loose, but just enough to where you can feel comforted and protected--which is the goal.

if you are ever in distress, tired, sad, or anything at all, you can always track down diluc at the dawn winery and know he'll be ready to offer cuddles at a moment's notice, but only because it's you.

play with his hair. do it. he says he doesn't like it but he does. do it when he turns his back to you and just cuddle him from behind and run your fingers through his scalp, twist his hair into braids, muse it thoroughly--he'll be much more compliant and at ease than if you hadn't.

his favorite cuddling position is when he's on his back and you're snuggled right up to his side, resting your cheek somewhere between his shoulder and chest and a leg thrown over his hips, comfortable and leisurely. especially in the mornings, when neither of you have nowhere to go immediately and can just sit and bask in each other's presence.

his second favorite would probably be face to face but it's rare that it happens because he'd much prefer the first. he enjoys just flicking his gaze over your face if you've fallen asleep, or just staring into your eyes in general if you're awake, feeling as if his stare alone could convey the many words he would never say.

at the end of the day, diluc is a pretty soft boi with a fairly rough background so handle his heart with care please!

kaeya: cuddle headcanons

the opposite of diluc, i think kaeya would be opposed to any kind of skinship--for the most part. while he certainly appreciates a good hug or pat on the shoulder here and there, he's averse to contact for extended periods of time lasting longer than maybe a few minutes.

he is able to express himself more thoroughly with his words, i believe, than his actions, because his actions can be easily misconstrued, as past actions indicate. *cough* so he much prefers verbal affirmations to physical ones, but however, if the traveler (yourself) is more skewed towards physical affection, he supposes he can't complain, since it's you, after all.

with kaeya, you would have to start out small; lingering touches, never fully encompassing or heavy, but light and delicate. get him used to your extended presence, so to speak, and he'll be more inclined to be touchier because, despite what he says or indicates with body language, he does crave that interaction with you even if his mind vehemently opposes it.

in a compromise, he'll sit as close to you as possible, but the rest will ultimately be up to you.

cuddling with kaeya, at first, is a bit of an awkward thing. he isn't sure what he wants, so he tries to do what is natural--deflect with flirtatious comments and fond words, distracting you from his uncomfortableness, but you see right through it.

over time, as he grows more accustomed to it, he grows clingier, even going as far as cuddling you in public spaces. the knights of favonius' hq has never known him to be as close as he is to you at any given time.

if he's working late and refuses to come home, you can easily wedge yourself into his lap on his chair and cuddle him that way, which is counterproductive since he can't resist when you do that.

because he runs quite cool, being a cryo user, he's the best to have during mondstadt heatwaves or impromptu trips to liyue. he sleeps with several blankets so if you end up having a cuddle session before bed, either wear cool clothes or be prepared to sleep naked (not that he would mind). *wink wink nudge nudge*

he's a blanket hoarder and collects blankets. you can't persuade me otherwise. i will die on this hill.

in an interesting turn, he doesn't like his hair played with, but he will play with yours, although not in the neat and pretty designs you probably would. usually it ends up knotted and matted worse than before if you came off of a mission, because while his touch is playful, it more than often comes with disastrous consequences.

his favorite position is cuddled up behind you, as close as he can be, with an arm under your head and another wrapped around your waist, his hand close to your heart. you can either hold that hand or reach up and stroke your fingers down his arm and he'll be happy. bonus points if you twine your legs together with his, he loves that.

his second favorite is less of a cuddle and more of a bear hug; specifically, more like a koala hug. it's less of an intimacy thing and more of a "i enjoy being greeted this way" thing, especially if he's the one coming back from a lengthy trip or mission. just leap on him and hold tight with your arms and legs (don't kill the poor bby tho) and he feels loved and appreciated and actually wants to return to you than mondstadt.

kaeya, when all is said and done, yearns for affection and affirmation, so be careful with him; he does, despite what he claims, breaks easily.

[i-d-e-g-a-f]

first of all, op was not making a one to one comparison about the ships or saying they were complete variants of each other, they were saying those are the ships they enjoy and deem as correct. there is no reason to compare them or try to argue that zutara is more legitimate or whatever you’re trying to do.

second of all, please procure the evidence where james was lying or lily didn’t defend snapes (pre fifth year when they were friends). you can’t. BECAUSE THE TEXT DOESNT EXIST.

we know little to nothing about these characters school lives outside of a few characters reminiscing and snape’s memories (which also can be considered unreliable information) so you have no basis. you can’t say they objectively don’t compare to zutara because they objectively nothing it’s all head canon.

also your spiel about lily being a plot device is utterly stupid because SO IS JAMES. THEY ARE DEAD. THEY SERVE NO OTHER PURPOSE THAN HOW THE AFFECTED THE PEOPLE AROUND THEM.

furthermore you’re wrong about lily only being a mother and love interest. she was CANONICALLY a good and kind friend, a brilliant witch, a brave woman who joined the order, and of course a mother and a lover. there’s nothing wrong with the last two, but those are canonically not the only things she was. we unfortunately don’t get much insight into her character because the story is told from harry’s point of view, but that doesn’t stop people from theorizing, making head canons, and becoming fans BASED on those head canons so do not try to claim it to be impossible for them to “be on the same level” for some people because that’s simply stupid. it’s frankly impossible to compare the two’s “levels” since we know such little canon information about the nature of jily’s relationship, but those of us who do enjoy the headcanons and theories have a right to say it so stop being a fucking party pooper. yeah there might not be a “deeper” meaning to jily but fans have CREATED and FOUND one. they aren’t trying to argue that those deeper meanings are the truth, but goddamnit they can enjoy them so honestly fuck off.

and cry my a fucking river about how offended you are that they are in the same post. although you are trying present your thoughts as facts, they are not, they are opinions, and they aren’t even opinions that can be supported by the actual canonical text SO THERES NO POINT IN ARGUING ABOUT IT. 

you can have your opinion about jily and can be offended all you want about how it’s not like zutara or how it’s more like jetara or whatever else i don’t care but don’t try and act like there’s factual basis for those opinions, and that therefore you have the right to impose your views on others. because your opinions are not in any way more correct than OP’s opinions. there is truly no point or way to argue it.

i would claim, BASED ON MY HEAD CANON, that jily is most similar to percabeth and sukka, but not zutara. BUT THATS NOT FUCKING GOSPEL. and i’m not trying to act like it is. jily is not objectively most similar to jetara (or sukka or zutara or percabeth for that matter) because they aren’t truly anything. no one was even trying to argue which one they are “like” it’s just about what op enjoys.

like zutara in my opinion isn’t similar to any of the other ships in op’s post, but that doesn’t diminish the quality of either of the other two ships nor does it undermine op’s point which was that those are just their favorite ships, not that they are necessarily similar.

in summary, your claims are unfounded plus they have nothing to do with the message of the original post.

kindly, shut the fuck up and take your opinions elsewhere if you disagree.

jily 🤝 zutara 🤝 percabeth (correct take)

[aquafaith]

My lengthy, angry ACOSF rant review.

Spoilers, TW for mental, emotional, physical, and sexual abuse.

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I loved ACOTAR. I still love ACOTAR. I always will love ACOTAR. But every book afterwards made me give up more and more. ACOMAF romanticized an abusive relationship and assassinated characters for the author's convenience. ACOWAR was a bunch of boring and inconsequential death scares. ACOFAS was all-round dreadful. And each book kept shitting on and pushing away Lucien for no reason.

I'd like to preface this by saying I hated Nesta too. I hated the way she treated Feyre in ACOTAR especially, and I wasn't even too excited for this book because I wasn't that keen on Nesta as a character.

Nesta's POV and her backstory changed my perspective. It does not excuse her actions. All Nesta stans can hold these characters accountable for what they do - trauma is a reason, not an excuse. I, and many others, sided with Nesta because of the way she's treated by everyone else in this book. Also, if you're going to hate Nesta for not teaching Feyre how to read and letting her hunt at fourteen, (which I did, and are very valid things to hate), AT LEAST hold Elain accountable too.

This book. This fucking book.

Shall we start with the intervention? Feyre on her little power trip thinks that her boyfriend that hates Nesta and Nesta hates back, Nesta's ex-best friend, and her possible mate who she never talks to should be at this stupid fucking intervention??? Excuse me???

Remember in ACOMAF when Feyre wouldn't shut up about how rich Rhysand is? Feyre literally has four or five houses and is always talking about how much jewelry and lingerie she can afford because Rhysand is so rich??? Well, Nesta has a few shots. So you know what Feyre does? Humiliates Nesta at this "intervention", TEARS DOWN HER HOME, and forces her to go to the Illyrian training camp.

That was the god awful premise for this book.

Did you think Elain wasn't there because she was against the "intervention"? Nope! She was packing Nesta's belongings without permission.

Remember in ACOMAF when it's made a big fucking deal that locking up a traumatised woman is extremely damaging? Well, when Nesta decides she doesn't want to be in Illyria, Feyre locks her in the House of Wind. Nesta can't fly, so her only way of leaving is down the TEN THOUSAND STEPS, that Feyre KNOWS Nesta isn't capable of climbing.

Feyre's pregnant. In ACOFAS she randomly decided that she wanted a baby to remember Rhysand by if he dies. Which doesn't make any sense because they made that stupid fucking death pact in ACOWAR. It's just SJM superimposing her pregnancy onto her early 20's protagonist. Ignoring the fact that Feyre isn't ready for a baby and Rhysand CERTAINLY isn't, and with a war just ended and another looming and so much trauma and a DEATH PACT are all such horrible circumstances to bring a child into, Feyre is already pregnant. Remember when SJM made a big deal about Fae babies being so hard to conceive, and Feyre said in ACOFAS they wouldn't have to worry for a long time because it can take years to conceive your first Fae child? Well it's been no more than 3 or 4 months and Feyre's already pregnant. Yep.

Also the birth will kill her. Because of course it will. Rhysand KNEW this, and still agreed to try for a baby.

There's no solution. Abortions don't exist for some stupid reason, and a C section would apparently kill Feyre?

(Wasn't this book supposed to be about Nessian?)

In ACOWAR, Cassian was on the battlefield with his entrails around his knees. Someone had to literally hold his guts in for him, and he's fine, but you're telling me a C section would kill Feyre?

Don't worry, this is just setting up the AWFUL ending to this book.

ACOSF amounts to Nesta being gaslit into believing her abusers are right. Her friends and family slut shame her and shame her for her lifestyle constantly. Cassian says it took him decades to work through some of his trauma, and he tried to drink and fuck it away too, but suddenly when Nesta does so it's heinous? Nesta's barely twenty five and she's expected to cope better than these ancient immortals.

Hell, didn't SJM write ACOMAF? Nobody expected Feyre to pick herself up so quickly. The IC (excluding Rhysand) respected her boundaries for the most part and understood when it was grief, trauma, and turmoil that made her angry, sad, want to be left alone, etc. But that's all forgotten here.

Amren also compares Nesta to the people in, and says she belongs in, The Court of Nightmares. You know, the murderers, abusers and rapists? This innocent woman who had a few shots and a bit of sex is on par with them, apparently!

The sex scenes.

SJM is scared to say vagina so she says sex.

She says seed to mean semen.

Apparently the word cunt turns SJM on. I just found Cassian saying that kinda cringe because I'm Bri'ish so the word cunt really isn't a big deal.

Back to the baby killing Feyre, because this is definitely what we all wanted from this book as indicated by the change in covers and format and title... Rhysand decides not to tell Feyre. He tells her friends and family, and tells them not to tell her.

SJM loves sweeping Rhysand's abuse from the first book under the rug and claiming it's always about Feyre's choice... where is that here, MAAS? WHERE IS IT?

Anyway, when Nesta rightfully decides to tell Feyre (although it is kind of out of spite), Rhysand threatens to kill Nesta.

And I believed him. With the way he treats his """mAtE tHaT hE lOvEs sO mUcH""" and all the people he's mindlessly killed before, do you really think he wouldn't kill the person who gave Feyre an inch of autonomy?

So what does Cassian do? His lover who he cares deeply about and suspects is his mate has received a death threat from tHe mOsT pOwErFuL hIgH lORd iN hIsToRy.

Cassian simply gets Nesta out of the court.

EXCUSE ME?

He doesn't breathe ONE word to Rhysand about this. This Illyrian WARRIOR who fought with his GUTS HANGING OUT didn't dare step up to the hIGh lOrD who he considers his brother and sparrs and fights with all the time?

Cassian literally does nothing.

Was it not Rhysand himself who said Mated males are dangerous? Can kill anyone who looks at their mate? Can be dangerous simply leaving the house? Rhys and Feyre both pull the Mate card to justify their bad actions on the other's behalf... and Cassian just tried to get Nesta out of the court?

Also, this High King bullshit.

I swear to fucking god, if SJM DARES to make this abusive, power-tripping, mOsT pOwErFuL hIgH lOrD eVEr, husband-insert of hers hIgH kInG, I will fight her in the street.

My beloved Lucien is in this book. Only for him to be used and shat on.

I really liked it when he calmed Cassian down with just a look though. Yes please fox man.

Helion is also in this book. Nothing to do with Lucien.

Eris is also in this book. ERIS. Lucien's eldest brother. The same one who abused him for years, but according to SJM he's slightly better, because at least he didn't agree to kill Lucien's lover. He betrayed his daddy that one time, therefore Eris is good. Y'know, the same Eris who abused Mor? Left her laying on the Autumn Court border with a nail in her womb? Well SJM is going back on her own canon to redeem yet ANOTHER abusive male, while continuing to demonize Tamlin for things he only happened to do when SJM decided the villain from the first book was sexy.

Nesta and Cassian are Mates.

Remember when Mates were supposed to be a rare and sacred thing? Now SJM dishes them out like Oprah.

I don't want these characters to be mates. I want to see them slowly fall in love. But SJM is incapable of writing that so she forces them together with the mAtInG bOnD. That's literally the only basis for most of these relationships, Feysand especially.

The only relationship where the bond would make sense is between Helion and The Lady of Autumn. Who still isn't named. But I will die on the hill that they're mates, I can feel it between them.

I wanted someone to die in this book. I predicted that it would either be Helion or Tarquin, but Tarquin isn't even in this one.

And the ending.

SJM can't write a decent climax, so she kills both Feyre and Rhysand for the second time. Yep.

The baby is being born which stupidly kills Feyre, and thankfully takes Rhysand with them.

Nesta decides to save them. Bad choice. But she decides to save them! Because she's so powerful and she ATE THE CONTENTS OF THE CAULDRON and she's CONNECTED TO THE MOTHER.

Do you know what happens.

Nesta loses her powers.

NESTA.

LOSES.

HER.

POWERS.

The powers we've hardly seen, the powers that were briefly mentioned and used ONCE in ACOWAR, then we saw like two flashes of in this book? They're GONE now. GONE SO NESTA CAN SAVE HER ABUSIVE SISTER AND ABUSIVE HUSBAND WHO ABUSES THEM BOTH.

Nesta is just an Amren now. They both fought for their powers, and had to give them up to save people who didn't deserve it. Now they're anticlimactically trapped in powerless bodies.

Also, and I can't BELIEVE I didn't originally include this - do you know what else Nesta TRADED HER POWERS FOR?

Illyrian anatomy so she can carry Cassian's baby one day.

EXCUSE ME?

I am so fucking SICK TO DEATH of the narrative that every woman needs a man and children to be happy. SJM clearly loves this because she's literally only keeping Amren and Nesta alive now to be sex objects to their partners and nothing else seeing as their POWERS WERE RIPPED AWAY FROM THEM, and now NESTA TRADED THOSE POWERS TO HAVE A BABY SHE DOESN'T EVEN KNOW SHE WANTS? Nesta does NOT strike me as a motherly type. She's the wine aunt, she and Cassian are the couple that go on holiday a lot and and babysit their nieces and nephews, but nope. Nesta HAS to have children.

The Feysand baby is called Nyx. That's just so underwhelming, you go from these huge, multiple syllable names like Amarantha and Morrigan and Lucien to Nyx? I get it's supposed to be unique but it's not even meaningful. It's just more shit-flavoured icing on the hAHa nIgHt uWu cake. I prefer Renesmée.

Nesta is wrong somehow. She says she's sorry as she's saving them. FOR WHAT? For being a little rude to Feyre as all sisters are? And rightfully hating your sister's abuser?

Oh yeah, remember in ACOWAR when Nesta took care of a comatose, starving Elain for months? Elain is randomly okay now because she takes care of her mental health the stereotypical way of baking cakes, and not drinking and fucking, which she shames Netsa for.

Remember the slut shaming, demeaning comments that the whole iNnEr cIrClE made about Nesta? They all expect apologies from her. For some reason.

Nesta has done nothing wrong. She coped with her trauma and minded her business in her own ways, and she's expected to apologise to the people who control and emotionally abuse her.

Nothing that any of these characters did to Nesta is right. Nesta wasn't okay at the end, this wasn't Nesta's healing story. This is Nesta being shamed and degraded until she submits.

Oh I can't believe I forgot to write this in my first draft of this review, do you know how Nesta "overcomes" her grief about her Father's death and her conflicting feelings about him and his life and her guilt? When she visits his grave for the first time, she takes Nyx.

NYX.

She holds NYX up to the grave and talks about how it's his grandson.

GO AWAY YOU STUPID DEMON BABY THIS IS NOT YOUR BOOK.

Speaking of, it's revealed that Nesta was abused by her mother and grandmother in this book? Something we were all looking forward to is seeing more of the Archeron's mother seeing as Feyre was so young when she died, but... nope. She gets a few vague mentions, and this newly revealed abuse is entirely glossed over. Nesta was also actively groomed by an older man at 14. But SJM glosses over this because of course she does.

Finally, the bonus chapters.

My edition came with a bonus chapter from Feyre's POV. It was pointless and I hated it.

There's another bonus chapter from Azriel's POV. Once I'd finished this book, he was one of the few characters I still harboured a shred of respect for.

Then I read his bonus chapter.

This exists to purely objectify Elain.

Whether you ship Elain with Azriel, or Lucien, or neither, this chapter is disgusting. He thinks about her coming on his tounge, and other things simply just to please him.

He then dares to suggest that "the Cauldron picked wrong" in choosing Lucien as Elain's mate?

No Azriel, SJM picked RIGHT in not giving each Archeron sister a bAt bOy.

Rhysand does the only right thing he's ever done by telling Azriel to stay away from Elain, but then he has to ruin it by clarifying that it's only so they can manipulate and use Lucien more.

Oh, and Azriel wants to kill Lucien.

Need I remind you that Lucien respects Azriel? Lucien is another victim of the Night Court's needless, baseless torment, and Azriel is no exception.

Lucien stays well out of Elain's way because she makes it clear that she's not interested in a mate, but Azriel wants to kill him simply for being her mate.

Lucien has done nothing. And I mean literally NOTHING to warrant any of this treatment. From the bAt bOyS, from Feyre, from his family, from SJM, from the deluded part of this fandom that think he's done wrong. NOTHING.

All I liked about this book was the Lucien scenes (which is a given), ((although I hated the way everyone talks about him behind his back)), Nesta's relationship with the house, Emerie and Gwyn, the evidence that Gwynriel is endgame and subsequently Elucien, and the book love. Everything else was horrible. Oh, and Nesta hates Rhysand. I love that for her, because everyone else bows at his feet.

Oh yeah, when Nesta DARES suggest that Rhysand is an "arrogant, preening asshole" which I think is a compliment, Cassian can't take Rhys' cock out of his mouth for one second, and has to get mad at her for having an opinion. Don't even get me started on Azriel in that scene.

If each book after ACOTAR made me slowly give up, this book made me give up altogether. I cannot go on to support this victim-blaming, abuse-forgiving, misogynistic series. I've given up on SJM, and the only characters I care about anyone are Lucien, Nesta, Helion, and Tarquin. I'll continue to read this series to see if SJM redeems herself, but I'll be downloading them for free. I'm not giving this piece of shit any more of my money.

I hope we don't get the Lucien book. I don't want her to slaughter my fox in the way she slaughtered LITERALLY EVERYONE ELSE.

Thanks for listening.

Edit: I put the review on Goodreads!

[kanmom51]

In the new tokopedia interview, jk said saranghae to v, apparently it's a wordplay but we know all the Fandom will say he just confessed. Tbh I'm a bit sad, maybe he really meant, and he never said that to jm..

Before I start, let me be clear here:

This is only going to be addressed once. No more asks about this will be answered.

JK said "I love you" to Tae twice (consecutively) in the Tokopedia interview. The sky is falling down. Wait a second here. No it in actual **** isn't.

Where do I start here? With JK professing his love to Tae or with an interview recorded around 4 months ago (the Butter era - Tae with poodle hair - no offence)?

I will start with the interview then.

Yes, omg, JK actually said the words "I love you, I love you" to Tae, who was first to try and hit the balloon with the dart and succeeded. He earned 4 points. Was it to congratulate or placate him I don't know, but it sure in hell wasn't a profession of love.

If the man I loved would profess his love to me that way, he would find himself sleeping on the lawn outside (we don't have a doghouse, lol).

Yeah, thumbs up, "I love you" - sound real loving.

Since that interview, close to 4 months ago approx., many waters have flowed in the river, waters that showed us exactly how JK & JM are doing just fine.

These are my opinions of course, and everyone is free to think as they will, but once again, I think people need to take a step back, look at the big picture, stop judging every single action or word that come out of these boys mouths.

JK doesn't have to profess his love for JM in front of us. What JK feels about JM, believe me JM knows. How many times do we have to say that JM would not have stuck around if his emotional needs weren't met by JK? JM has said in the past how important it is to him to hear "I love you", so I can only assume that he hears it on a regular basis from the person he is romantically involved with.

Oh, and btw, this claim JK has NEVER said "I love you" to JM is growing real old.

JK has said "I love you" to JM, for us to hear, and he has done so more than once. He said it to JM during the eat Jin Vlive (at JM's request, but he said it); He said it to JM during the Paris concert (it was talked down as a mistake in translation, but hell no, he said it out loud in front of thousands of fans); He said it to JM during JM's Vlive when he took the phone from Jin (JK's voice & JM's happy flustered reaction said it all); He told him he loved him in sign language on the red carpet in front of all of the media; He said it following JM saying how important it is for him to hear those words, and seconds after JK himself saying he never initiates it, but then turning around and saying "I love you" to JM; And there is RB too, the "I love you"'s, the whispering in JM's ear and what followed.

JK also told JM he wanted him, he told him he will always be no. 1 to him, he flirts with him constantly, looks at him like he's the most precious thing he has ever seen, is willing to give up Marvel for Harry Potter just to be with JM, etc. etc.

Just to wrap this up in a little bow anon, I will make this as clear as I can:

All the members love each other. They love each other as friends. They have said so to each other. Suga told both JK & Tae he loved them. Suga told JM he loved him. Jin said it to Suga. Jin said it to JK and he said it back. BV1 recorded message from everyone, including JK saying "I love you" to Tae. JM said it to JK. JM said it to Hobi. JM said it to Suga. RM said it to Jin. And I can go on and on and on here. They love each other, they say it to each other.

Does the fact that JM said it to other members mean he loves JK any less? No. Because you can love your parents, your siblings, your friends and your partner. Each and every one of them is a different kind of love, but it's still love. So why the double standards here anon? Why is it ok when JM says it to other members but not JK?

I tell you what I think.

I think it's ok for them to do what the hell they want to. They are free to tell the other members they love them, they have been doing so over the years, and low and behold, it doesn't seem to bother either of them. And why would that be? Because they are secure in their love for each other. They, unlike many fans, understand the complexity of life, friendship and being in love with someone. They are not threatened by their partner saying "I love you" to their other friends, because they know that when it's said to them (in private, when it matters) it's a different "I love you", one saved for a lover, not a friend.

[sslow-dancer]

hi! can i request a one shot with polnareff x reader but he’s still stuck as the turtle but a twist like the princess and the frog? the reader kisses the turtle and he comes back to being his old (part 3) self because the reader is the one? lots of fluff plzzz? ty ;w;

A/N: Okay but this idea is so unbelievably cute?! I apologize for taking forever to get it done. I went a bit deep and overboard with the storyline on a request that is so simple and I’m pretty sure this is my longest one up to date actually BUT- it’s whatever. There’s plenty of fluff near the end, I promise. I enjoyed writing this and I hope you enjoy reading it too!! 🤍

(If this flops, I will be so sad omg)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“You’re The One, My Love.” (Jean Pierre Polnareff x Reader)

Warnings: mentions of drug abuse and depression

tags: gender-neutral, gender-inclusive, jean pierre polnareff x reader, turtle pol, magical, kiss, twist, slight angst, sfw, fluff

Description: One day after having to escort Polnareff as orders from your boss, you begin to grow quite fond of him. During your usual hangouts, you jokingly offer to kiss him as a way to recreate one of your favorite fairytales.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You giggle as Jean pulls you into a kiss, you feel him smile as he holds your face gently. You’re happy to see the man you love not be as serious and hurt as he was when you first met him. Your expression reminiscent of the memories shared between you before this moment.

~A Year Before~

Your personal servant had drawn the curtains. Your eyes fluttered open, body awaken by the bright sunlight shining from your windows and murmurs outside your bedroom. You groaned in frustration as you threw a pillow at him, he managed to catch it and place it back by your bed frame. You huffed,

“Didn’t boss say I have the week off? I’m allowed to sleep in.” you stated blankly, remembering how you had the strong urge to strangle him for ruining your slumber. He shook his head as he sat by the edge of your bed and pointed at the clock that stood on top of your nightstand. You distinctly remember the screen marked 7:25AM exactly. You sighed as you thought you could’ve at least slept in by 10. You sat up and criss crossed your legs and played with the lose strings of your blanket as he replied.

“Technically you do, but today is last minute and different. Sr. Giovanna wants you to escort out a close individual he works with today by 8.”

Frustrated, you plopped your hands down onto your lap and rolled your eyes as you said back,

“Not to be bratty but...can’t he just do that himself or get one of you to do it?” you raised your pointers and middle fingers to create air quotations “This individual must be pretty important if not even the boss can take care of it.”

Your servant shut his eyes and sighed. After what you had just told him, deep down you felt bad about how much he had to deal with your bull on a daily basis- not to mention your constant grumbling in the morning whether he woke you or not. Either way, you were pretty grumpy most mornings. He shook his head again.

“It’s not that either. Sr. Giovanna could easily lead him out but he’s currently finishing business with other people in the country. Sr. Mista is with him as well so you’re the only one we have present. They both must attend all meetings, they are not to miss one.

“Okay, but that still doesn’t answer my question. What’s so important about him or her or whatever the hell they go by?”

“I’ll let you figure that out for yourself.” He said finally as he patted your bed as a way to non-verbally tell you to get ready.

You huffed when he exited the room, plopping your back down hard into the foamy mattress. You roughly grabbed at the pillow you had thrown earlier and placed it over your face, you screamed into it for a good 10 seconds.

Looking back, were you being a little too dramatic? Yes, sure- of course. It’d make anyone cringe if they were to had witnessed it though you didn’t really mind. You were still maturing anyway. You were still getting used to the life Giorno Giovanna and Guido Mista had offered and gladly given to you.

Before meeting your boss Giovanna and his right hand man Mista, you had been living life miserably at home. Though before anyone asks, no: your parents were not abusive, no: your siblings weren’t either, no: nor were your friends or teachers. You had just become very distressed with the life you were leading on. You didn’t like the person you were and were expected to become. Anxiety took over rather unexpectedly. So what did you do when you had enough? You moved on to drugs.

You were surprised to find out how easy it was for a person in their late teens to gain access towards those terrible substances. But none the less, you later learned your dealer was from the mafia known as “Passione.”

Was it dangerous for you to have figured out that information? Yes. However, you remained cautious and never told a soul...until one day you bumped into the now late capo, Bruno Bucciarati.

You were walking down your local dealing alleyway, hands in pockets and school bag still in sight. You usually dealt after school as many adults were distracted by the kids that filled up the streets. Thus making them barely notice the illegal activity going on as a large number of students would walk down alleyways as a shortcut to their home. You were swift in paying back and receiving your desired substances anyway.

All of a sudden you heard a distant call, a call out of your name. You stopped dead in your tracks and turned around to look at the direction from where the call was coming from, that’s when you saw him. He stood a few feet from you.

“I’m glad I was able to find you...my name is Bruno Bucciarati. Your parents sent me to look for you, they’ve mentioned to me that you’ve been coming home late from school lately.”

You only shrugged and completely ignored his claim. You began walking away but were stopped again when he said,

“Leaky eyed Luca deals with you, doesn’t he?”

You kept your gaze forward and your back turned away from Bruno. Turning your head slightly over your shoulder, you mumbled,

“If I say yes, will you leave me alone?”

Without having to look at him, you knew he had tilted his head when he answered.

“That depends. If you answer honestly, no trouble will occur. I’ll remain calm with you, that is a promise.”

You blinked, sighing as you kicked at the small pebbles near your feet, staring at your shoes as you thought about what he said.

You had been dealing with Luca and you knew that his business was risky. Though you didn’t care. You felt that you needed to get the drugs you wanted pronto and Luca was the only one who would give them to you quickly. You shook your head, deciding to give up as you didn’t want anyone to notice you both speaking. You turned to face him and quietly replied,

“Yes, he deals with me. He’s the provider, I’m the receiver.”

Bruno smiled, satisfied with your answer.

He followed up with informing you that Luca had been killed at a local airport and was told to investigate his death. He didn’t provide too many details as to the cause of his death but you didn’t feel like asking anyway. Bruno admitted he came to speak to you as hours prior one of your parents really did come to speak to him about your behavior. After connecting some dots, he suspected you had something to do with Luca’s death as you were not attending school and were gone for most of the day. Not to mention, your teachers had called your parents that day as well.

Luckily, he was able to clear you out as a suspect as you cooperated with him and weren’t sweaty or completely jittery. He also gave you a little talk about using drugs. He promised he wouldn’t tell your parents that you got yourself involved in that abusive life if you promised to not buy more again.

You truly felt at the time that he was the only one who understood and cared for you in just the short time you met him. Your eyes watered as you complied with Bruno, promising to do what he suggested. A promise you have held onto forever.

After some investigating of your own, you found out that it was your future boss that killed Luca. You were rather impressed than angry that he was able to kill him. You honestly believed Luca would never be caught.

Back to the day you had to escort this individual- after some more complaining and grumpy remarks towards everyone in the household, you were finally ready to meet them. Your personal servant led you to the front door. He made sure to quietly remind you to be polite.

Your attention turned to another servant walking down the stairs towards your direction. A pillow in hand with a piece of cloth covering whatever was on top it. You furrowed your eyebrows in confusion, laughing as you sarcastically remarked,

“Is this some kind of joke? It’s not April, is it?”

“No, but I guess this household treating me with the upmost respect is.”

Your eyes widen. ‘Did that thing under the cloth just speak?” you asked yourself.

The servant removed the cloth and there revealed a turtle. A turtle with a key-shaped hole embedded on its shell. You almost assumed that the turtle smirked at you when he added,

“I know, don’t be too surprised. I plan to get out of this animal once my soul decides to give up. I haven’t always looked like this, ya know.”

Your mouth gaped open as to say something, but you quickly shut it as you didn’t know how to reply. He chuckled,

“Hand me over to them, we’ll talk more when we get to my destination.”

You hesitantly took the pillow from the servant’s hands and remained in shock as you walked out the door. You were careful not to drop him as you got down to the front gates. Gulping as you asked,

“So...my servant wasn’t that specific on me having to leave you in the car or actually riding with you. It’s kind of my fault as I don’t like to listen and talk in the morning...”

You nervously laughed as he looked up to you. He replied,

“It’s quite alright. I was told you have to ride with me. But don’t worry, you won’t have to stay for long. It’s only around a 10 minute ride.”

“Yeah, okay.”

You sat behind the passenger seat and placed the pillow in the middle, right next to your side.

The ride was relatively quiet, you looked out the window as you kept a fist under your chin. Your expression showed that of concern. You were too nervous to say anything. Even though he had joked back earlier, you were afraid he didn’t like you as his voice stayed stern throughout your small talk. You were afraid you had offended him in some way.

Your mood changed when the driver alerted that you had arrived. You thanked him as he opened the door for you, your hands grasped the pillow tightly so the talking turtle wouldn’t fall. You asked him with a small voice.

“Is there anywhere you’d like for me to set you?”

“Yes... put me on top of that balcony over there. I want to look at the lake.”

“Of course.”

You did as he said and sat him on the balcony. Your eyes gleamed when you caught sight of the glimmering water and greenery of the setting. You’ve always known that Italy is one of the most beautiful places in the world but at that time you had forgotten and were fascinated all over again. Like when a child sees a playground for the first time.

“It’s beautiful, isn’t it?” he asked, you nodded.

“Yes, it really is. It’s no wonder you asked me set you on here.”

“Yes... I wanted to look at one more beautiful sight before I go. Like I said earlier, my soul is no longer fit to be here, so I might as well admire my surroundings for now.”

Your mind quickly became curious after he said that. You wanted to know more behind what he meant. You weren’t going back to that car until you got answers. So to make things easy, you started off with asking his name.

“If you don’t mind... would you like to tell me your name?”

“It’s Jean. Jean Pierre Polnareff.”

‘So he’s French.’ you remember thinking, his accent wasn’t too thick but you assumed and your assumption was right. After that, you went on to tell him your name and your experiences before meeting boss Giorno Giovanna. He shared the same with you.

You talked for so long in fact that you paid off the driver of your assigned car to go back and finish his shift early, promising them that you’ll find a ride later yourself.

You ended off the chatty night with placing Jean under a nearby bench and waving at him. You were saddened but Jean said he enjoyed your company so much that he’ll try to stay for longer and that you’re welcome to come him visit him everyday.

And so you did.

For months you came by to talk to him. You were happy to see that his soul wasn’t giving up yet- you knew you would cry if it were to one day. You had come to realize that you love him but you didn’t know if he felt the same way about you. You had only seen his face once- that was the day he decided to show you the physical embodiment of his soul.

You thought (and still think) he was so beautiful. The missing of bottom limbs and blindness in one eye did not bother you at all. His white-silver hair, style and personality is what did it for you. What it did to make you fall in love with his vanity and him. Just him. Jean himself.

~A Year Later~

It’s been a year now and as per usual, you spent half your days speaking to Jean by that same lake you were ordered to drive him to.

Boss Giovanna and Mista have noticed how fast you are in missions since then. They appreciate that you get things done but they still remain curious as to why you’re more happy and less grumpy than you were before. Though they don’t bother to ask, as they’re kind and don’t want to ruin your pure joy.

Today isn’t particularly different. All you had done earlier in the day was speak to a few citizens in town and dealt with giving details to your boss about a certain drug epidemic at a school. Nothing too out of the ordinary, a situation like this occurred at your old school too years back. Your duties were basically done once you learned information got to police.

You drive down to the park where the lake is at, smiling when you see a familiar small green circle on the balcony, looking over the glimmering waters. You park in the nearest lot and lock your car after getting out. You excitedly run over to Jean and smile when he turns his little head to greet you.

“I’m glad you’ve come again.” he says with a smile.

“Of course, why wouldn’t I?” you reply in a genuine tone.

You go on to talk about random topics and subjects as you always do. The conversation moving onto favorite pieces of literature and genres.

You roll your eyes in embarrassment as you tell him your most favorite one- one that is a fairytale and goes by the name of “The Frog Prince.”

“Well... it’s very fem of me but I really enjoy fairytales. Especially the ones from the Grimm brothers. My favorite is actually “The Frog Prince”

You place your elbow on the rail and use a hand to cover your burning cheek. Hoping that the redness rushing to your face won’t be noticed by Jean and that the sunset covers it up. Jean only laughs and hopes to comfort you when he says,

“Oh, that’s fine. Who cares if it’s feminine? They’re very well written stories and people shouldn’t be ashamed for what they like. I admire that your favorite genre is fairytale, you don’t hear people say that as often, you know?”

His words do comfort you and you thank him for that. He welcomes you and you feel like you’re actually looking into his sapphire eyes. The ones you fell in love with so long ago. You speak up before you’re even able to fully think.

“Say, the frog prince and the princess kissing, huh? Why don’t we kiss and see if it turns you back?”

Shit.

‘Did I really just ask that?’ you ask yourself ‘What the actual hell is wrong with you?!”

“I don’t see why not...”

“Huh?”

You’re stunned. You thought he would get offended for spurting out such a stupid thing. Of course your request won’t work- that shit is from a story book. It’s pure fiction. This is real life.

He’s a turtle now and you’re a human. You can’t and you won’t kiss him. You raise your hands up in defense.

“Hey, no! No need to play along after saying something so stupid to make me feel better. I just blurted that out I’m so sorry-“

“No, it’s okay. And I’m not playing along, I’m being serious. Go ahead. I’ve grown to like you a lot, a small kiss wouldn’t hurt.”

This answer is not what you expected. You nervously fiddle with your fingers as you look around. You sigh as you give in.

“Fine. I like you a lot too and I’ll do it. Let me just-“

You lift up the top half of Jean, his front turtle legs up in the air and his little face staring up at you. You take a deep breath and close your eyes, you slowly lean in and- kiss✨

The turtle falls out of your grasp. You stop puckering your lips and open your eyes. In a panicked state, you frantically look over the balcony and both sides of you to find him. You look forward and gasp. You grab at the railings to hold you steady.

There sits a groaning man on his knees. He rubs at his neck as he silently curses to himself, blinking fast and harshly as he tries to understand what’s going on around him. It’s dark now but the moon shines bright enough for you to get a better glimpse of him. You furrow your eyebrows as you slowly recognize who he is- Jean.

He has that same white-silver hair, sapphire eyes, big stature though the only difference is no eye glass in sight and his “legs” aren’t made out of metal.. they’re completely real. Flesh and all and you know that blood flows right through them like the rest of his body.

“J-Jean?” you whisper.

The man doesn’t hear you. All he does is groan and cross his legs in front of him. He stretches his arms and looks over any possible injuries on him.

“Jean.” you say again, louder this time.

He finally looks up at you. And there they are, those sapphire eyes you love so much. That face you’ve grown to be so fond off. His expression more than surprised. Though that expression quickly changes and softens- his eyes crease and a small smile appears. He says your name. And you tear up after he does.

He attempts to get up but his legs give up on him. You sprint to his side before he falls, letting him use your shoulders as support. He blushes.

“I’m sorry... I haven’t had real legs in years. Apparently I forgot how to use them...”

His voice is softer than before, the sternness isn’t there. He sounds younger almost. You giggle, as you use a hand to wipe at the tears of your eyes.

“Okay, I think I can stand now. Let go of me so I can look at you fully.”

You do as he says and as you watch him wobble, you reach out to help again but he shakes his head, waving your hands off as he’s able to maintain balance. You grin proudly when he does.

Jean turns to face you, he clasps your hands together and brings them up to his lips. You blush as he proceeds to hold them over his heart. He looks at you with pure love in his eyes.

“Thank you. Thank you so much. What you suggested was silly but it worked.”

“Yes, you’re welcome...” you say softly, looking down. He makes you look up again.

“You’re the one, my love. You always have been and always will be. My feelings for you started when we first met, I meant what I said. I have grown to like you a lot though it’s more than “like”- it’s love. And I’m so happy to know you feel the same way.”

You tear up at this and hug him. He hugs you back and you can’t believe that he does.

The turtle is no more and you have your true love back to human form.

He raises your chin up with his thumb and pointer, he kisses you and you kiss him back. The kiss long and meaningful.

You’re happy to know that the man you love, loves you too.

[selormohene]

day 129 (thursday, november 9th 2023)

This one is about identity, in particular personal and political identity. I think I remember being interested in the question of personal identity once. The interesting thing about it is that it doesn't satisfy Leibniz's law. In fact almost no versions of what is generally invoked under the name of identity, it would seem, satisfy Leibniz's law in the strict sense of the indiscerniblity of identicals, because you generally want to say that identity is compatible with the possibility of having been different, or changing (or even enduring) over time, but then that means that in different times (or at a different world) X has different properties while remaining identical to X. Or else you might want to resist this, and say identity means you retain all your properties in every context, but at the very minimum it seems you can fold being in a certain context into a property: thus X possesses both the property of existing at time t and having existed at time t', but then at time t' X possessed the property of existing at time t' and future existence at t, for instance. Thus you have tensed or modally indexed properties. But you can't place that sort of property within a temporal context or else you violate the indiscernibility of identicals. You can deny that any such properties exist I guess, or try to restrict your view to something like intrinsic properties (on the view that temporal context is relative to a world or whatever and thus an illegitimate relational property), or you can also argue for a level distinction between the properties denoted by your theory (i.e. as the interpretation of a predicate) and the terms which arise from the machinery of your theory (and would thus be denoted by terms in a second-order theory). Whatever. But anyway I was interested in the question of how you could be the same person as you were years ago when you don't seem to satisfy the criteria for physical identity, even if you do satisfy the conditions for physical continuity. Perhaps the idea is that you're connected by memory, or by some other complex of things like a life history, or that you only really exist over time and not in time, etc.

But this post is about something else, the identity in "identity politics." What's interesting about that is that to have X as your identity is to be part of a group; you're black, you're a woman, etc., and in some sense that's not an identity in the sense that it's something only you have, or a relation everyone has only to themselves, or anything like that. Identities in this social or political sense are thus not these sorts of special objective properties, they are sustained, as it were, by a certain sort of recognition, or claim to recognition. That's another shift I think, from a model in which identity is conferred from outside ("subject identified as a 6'4" black male") to one in which it's declared from within ("I identify as a first-generation immigrant,") even if declared identities issue from externally ascribed traits, they're filtered through one's own interpretation of and relationship to those traits and sometimes in opposition to the common understanding of those traits. (See the many debates about the extent to which people should or shouldn't be classified under X racial category if they're from social context Y and don't "identify" with category X, etc. So some people who are generally understood by others to be of a certain race, or gender, do not identify as that race or gender, and in some cases the self-identification is taken to be primary and in other places the external identification is considered primary, either on the basis of the contingent claim that no one can sincerely and rationally go against their external identification or on the stronger claim that the identity category in question is not the sort on which one can unilaterally cast off one's externally designated identity category.)

I think that on the "I identify as" model, the use of the term "identity" is fundamentally to make a very particular kind of normative claim, and one which is related to its more traditional metaphysical overtones. So traditionally, questions of identity have been related to questions of existence, continuity, change and survival. What makes it the case that something is what it is, that it continues to be what it is in a different context or under a different aspect, that it continues to be, rather than to be something else, or to cease to be. And I think that invocations of identity in this sense involve taking the trait one identifies with and saying "this is who I am, fundamentally." It's a way to fold a certain sort of commitment into one's very essence or being. This isn't to say this sort of claim is generally voluntaristic, not at all. The person making the claim may well believe that this is simply how things are. But the claim is to the effect of "this aspect of me is essential to me." (Or perhaps just is me, although this version of the claim raises the question of how an aspect of you, which would seem to bear an asymmetric, quasi-mereological relation to you, can just be you, where something's being you is a symmetric relation. The point is that something's being part of your identity would seem to be different in that way from its being a mere property you have.) But anyway, "this aspect of me just is me; if you're against this belief, this value, this commitment of mine, this feature of my personality, you're against me; to demand that I give it up is to demand that I no longer exist, or no longer am who I am; if you claim to accept me you must accept this as well, and if you don't accept this you don't accept me." And acceptance of this sort of move in connection with the sanctity of persons raises all sorts of questions, because people have all sorts of things they identify with and it seems like if we only want to accept some claims and not others, we have to admit the voluntaristic foundations of our acceptance of identity claims, or else make the controversial contingent judgment that everyone who makes a certain sort of identification is being insincere or evil, or else judge that some people are making a moral mistake, not a cognitive one, but then that raises the question of whether we can legitimately speak of identity claims in the object mode, saying "it is a fact that these claims are legitimate and these ones aren't," which is what we often do when we're trying to give these moral claims the full weight of objective reality.