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sl-ut · 11 months

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ceilings

pairing: ellie williams x fem!reader

description: ellie and y/n are together when they’re in private, but she’s not sure if she’s ready to be with her in public. A newcomer to jackson might be the shove that she needs to decide whether she really wants her or not.

warnings: UNEDITED!!! slight hint of smut, reader has a bad rep, reader is a lil slutty (in a fun way), mentions of bad parenting, slightly mean!ellie, jealousy

words: 4.8K

date posted: 08/06/23

part two

Early morning patrol was going to kill Ellie someday, that she was sure of. The urge to stay in bed all day only worsened as the wind grew increasingly bitter with the oncoming winter. More often than not, she would be paired with Jesse or Dina, who both took their time apart to use Ellie as their unpaid therapist. At that point, she would almost rather have tense smalltalk with Joel or even suffer through Eugene’s ramblings–at least Eugene almost always brought weed to share between them. Plus, waking up before the sun had even risen halfway into the sky was easily one of her least favourite things to do, and her thighs were always sore after riding all day, no matter how often she was on horseback.

The only thing that made it even worse in the more recent weeks, was that she found it so hard to drag herself out of bed while knowing who was still tucked into the numerous blankets.

She made an effort to wake up early every morning, turning over as slowly as she could manage in hopes of not disturbing the slumbering figure behind her, settling onto her side as her fingers itched to reach out and feel the smooth flesh beneath the hem of her shirt. In such close proximity, she was able to feel the warmth of her body, blistering beneath the mountain of blankets. The girl was curled onto her side, shoulders rising and falling with every deep breath that escaped her parted lips. Before noticing her own movement, Ellie’s fingertips stroked against the softness of her warm cheek, stroking the sleep-swollen flesh in admiration with slow, gentle movements until the girl’s long eyelashes began to flutter.

Y/n blinked a few times as she pushed through the grogginess, a dopey grin crossing her features sleepily as her eyes fell on the figure next to her. She tugged the blankets in closer to her chin as she readjusted her head on the pillow, smacking her lips a few times before mumbling out a warm ‘mornin’’.

“Sorry,” Ellie hurriedly pulled her fingers away, “Didn’t mean to wake you.”

“‘S okay,” Y/n yawned, “I don’t mind waking up next to you.”

Ellie flushed, chest burning with the desire to snuggle so close to the girl that they became fused together. Her fingers moved down, searching blindly beneath the blankets in search of Y/n’s own hand, and tangling them together tightly.

The night before had felt unreal. Ellie had invited Y/n over, having made sure that they would be uninterrupted, to watch a movie on the shitty little box TV that she had brought out to her garage. In the dim lighting of the battery-operated lantern in the corner and the flickering TV, Ellie had admired Y/n’s features up-close in a way that she yearned to on a much more regular basis. The night had, of course, ended with Ellie tripping over her own feet in excitement as she was leading Y/n to her bed, wandering hands finally finding their purchase beneath the covers.

Things had been that way for a while now. Ellie had known Y/n from a distance for quite some time before they started seeing each other, but hadn’t truly gotten to know her beyond a few things until Dina and Jesse ditched her at the Tipsy Bison in favour of Jesse’s bed. The two girls had a short conversation that night, and their relationship quickly snowballed from there. Small talk quickly turned into stolen kisses, and kisses turned into experimental touches–though it was always in private.

“I have to go soon,” Ellie whispered to her, “Patrol.”

Y/n let out a quiet groan, “Just skip today, I’ll do the same. Let’s just stay in bed all day.”

A small huff of a laugh escaped Ellie and she rolled her eyes, “Yeah, and risk us both being skinned alive by Maria?”

The girl shrugged lazily, shifting a tad closer to Ellie and nudging at her nose with her own playfully, “I can make it worth your while…”

Ellie’s fingers twitched, a knowing smirk crossing her dry lips, “Yeah? And how’s that?”

“Well, I was thinking…” She lowered her voice, as if they weren’t completely alone in the privacy of Ellie’s renovated garage, “I could get on top of you, and, you know…”

“I’m listening,” Ellie prompted her to continue with a wolfish grin.

“Well, I would get on top of you, get nice and close,” she giggled, “and then we could go back to sleep for a few hours.”

Ellie chuckled, pinching at her side playfully, “I should’ve known you were full of it when you said you would get on top.”

Y/n scoffed, swatting at her as she cackled at her own joke, “Uh, excuse me! I would get on top if you would let me!”

“Oh please, you wouldn’t even know what to do.”

“You wanna bet?” Y/n wasted no time in crawling on top of the brunette, grasping at her wrists and pinning them above her head with as much strength as she could manage, “What do you think of that, huh?”

Ellie’s eyes dropped from Y/n’s own to her lips, then down to the plush of her thighs from beneath the large shirt that she had worn to bed. She could feel the warmth of her centre through the thin fabric of her panties against the firm expanse of her abdomen, and she could make out the shape of her breasts through the worn fabric of her shirt. Her breath caught in her throat at the intimate position, fingers stretching out as she gauged how difficult it would be to break her hold.

“I think you’re in over your head. You’re nothing but a little pillow princess, aren’t you?”

Y/n pouted, shaking her head in defiance as she bent down further to ghost her lips over Ellie’s before finally dropping them together in a firm kiss. Slowly, she began to rotate her hips against her, mewling against her lips excitedly and easily becoming overwhelmed at the slightest of touches.

Ellie took the opportunity handed to her, wrenching her hands free and manoeuvring herself to be propped up against her pillows while grasping Y/n’s hips in her strong hands while forcing them to continue on with her movements. Y/n shrieked in surprise at the jostling movement, but didn’t fight Ellie’s clear show of dominance and allowed the girl to guide her hips in grinding down against her abs.

Small gasps fell from her lips as she urged Ellie to let her go faster, their lips moulding together to a series of sloppy kisses.

“See?” Ellie panted as their lips separated for air, “You can be on top all you want, but you’ll never be in control.”

Y/n moaned as the sensation of cotton rubbing against her sensitive bundle of nerves, the contours of Ellie’s abdomen acting as the perfect surface for her pleasure, murmuring out little incoherent sentences under her breath–a result of both the warm feeling that had begun to pool in her belly and the sheer exhaustion that still gnawed at her brain. Ellie whispered little praises to her, watching impatiently as her face scrunched up with every movement of her hips.

Her peak was torn away as a knock sounded on the door, Y/n finding herself falling face-first into the mattress as Ellie pushed her away as if she had burned her, tossing the blankets over Y/n’s body as the door swung open.

Y/n peeled the blankets off of her face, scowling at her unofficial girlfriend for throwing her to the side so haphazardly, though Ellie hadn’t even spared her a glance as she rushed out of bed and towards the door.

“Yo, Ellie!” Jesse marched straight in after knocking only once, “We’re gonna be late if you don’t drag your ass outta–oh.”

His gaze had quickly shifted past his friend’s alarmed expression to the flushed figure in her bed, a knowing look crossing his embarrassed features.

“Jesse, what the fuck man?”

“Sorry,” He flickered his eyes to Ellie, not wanting to let his gaze linger on the half-dressed girl longer than necessary, “We’ve got patrol, so I guess I’ll just, uh, wait outside.” He paused at the door for a final remark before closing it behind him, “Hi, Y/n.”

Ellie dropped her head in embarrassment, hands on her hips as she shook her head, “Fuck.”

Y/n crawled out of the bed, cringing as her bare feet met the cold floor. Her fingers reached for Ellie’s back, barely ghosting her spine before the brunette ripped herself away, rushing around the room to collect her things.

“Hey,” Y/n called out to her, “I know you’re probably embarrassed over that, but it’s okay. I mean, he didn’t really see anything, but–”

“Yeah, well I’m pretty sure he’s not dumb enough to not figure out what we were doing,” Ellie remarked as she slid her jeans up over her thighs.

“It’s not the end of the world, now is it? I mean, you know what he’s doing when he and Dina sneak off, right? What’s the difference?”

“Difference is that I know that he and Dina are dating. This isn’t exactly something that I planned on telling people about.”

The blood drained from Y/n’s face, “Oh my God, Ellie. Are you not… I had no idea that you weren’t, you know, out to everyone. I’m so sorry, I would have taken it more seriously if I–”

“What?” Ellie scrunched her face up, “Are you kidding me? I dated Cat, everyone knows that I like girls.”

Y/n paused, the sinking feeling in her stomach returning, only significantly worse than before, “So, you weren’t planning on telling people about me?”

Ellie stood up from lacing up her boots, turning to shrug into her jacket and backpack quickly as she turned back to face Y/n with a sigh. Her shoulders dropped as she took in the wide, teary eyes of the girl she had been quite intimately embracing only moments before, “Jesus, I don’t have time to deal with this right now, ‘kay? We’ll talk when I get back.”

Ellie disappeared out the door without another word or glance, leaving Y/n to collect her things and flee back to her own home.

* * *

Jackson was not a very big community,meaning that Ellie had come to know who most people were within the first three weeks of her and Joel settling into Jackson for good. Seth was a cranky old asshole, Big Frankie had a bad temper, and Jennifer was cheating on her husband with his brother, only he was too blind to see it. Joel wasn’t exactly one for gossip, so she did her best to follow by example and ignore the kinds of reputations that people held until she could judge for herself. That was until she met Dina.

Dina was the kind of girl who people aimed to please. Generally everyone was instantly drawn to her; pretty, smart, and confident, the kind of girl that everyone wanted to be or wanted to be with. She was the first person that Ellie seemed to actually click with, so of course she was willing to hear and trust her opinion of other Jackson locals. With older people, the general consensus was that they were either nice or absolute dicks with no in between, though things were much more complicated with people closer to their own age.

There was a clear social hierarchy among the Jackson youths. Dina, of course, was among the top of this status quo, and had very strict opinions of those who she personally did not like. There were a handful of people who Dina wasn’t the biggest fan of, but there was no one else in Jackson that Dina seemed to dislike more than Y/n, though she was never very open about exactly why she didn’t like her, beyond several petty comments or calling her mean names when she passed by with a smile. Jesse had even let it slip one night just before greening out that Dina had once been friends with the girl, but was too out of it to tell her anything else.

Ellie decided that anyone who could have caused such hatred in Dina must have been the scum of the earth, and that it was in the best interest of herself and the relationship that she had with Dina to take up similar opinions, though she still couldn’t quite figure out how that kind of dreadful personality could exist within such a cheerful facade. Of course, Ellie was aware of the reputation that she had around town, and she had taken notice of how she seemed to hang around with different guys every few weeks, but did that necessarily mean that she was an awful person? She had also seen the way that she interacted with others around town, and had heard from Maria how sweet she was with the dogs when she worked at the kennels–things just weren’t adding up.

When she asked Dina, she was quite vague about the actual issue that she had with the girl, instead choosing to explain why Ellie shouldn’t like her.

“She’s slept with half the guys in Jackson, and tried with the other half. Guess they weren’t desperate enough to stoop to that level.” Dina had scowled, “Plus she’s such an airhead. Like, I figured that people nowadays needed to have some kind of common sense, but jeez.”

To be quite honest, Y/n was one of the first people who she had taken explicit notice of in Jackson, aside from Tommy and Maria, of course. She was the kind of girl that Ellie just couldn’t look away from, and always seemed to have a peaceful and soft aura about her. Whenever they happened to run into each other, she always greeted her with a smile and a soft hello, only to turn beet red and retreat when Dina came sidling up beside her. Whenever they were both at the Tipsy Bison, Ellie’s eyes couldn’t stop themselves from following her movements, internally cringing as she watched guys run their hands over her body and pulling a boisterous laugh out of her.

“Can’t believe Keith is the guy of the week,” Dina raised her brows at the sound of the obnoxious giggling.

Jesse shrugged, keeping a neutral position that would only prove to piss his girlfriend off even more, “He’s a nice guy. Seems to like her.”

She snorted, “They always seem to like her, until they get what they want. After that, I guess she lets people see the real her.”

Later on that night, Ellie did actually get to know the real her after Dina and Jesse pulled their infamous disappearing act, and she still couldn’t figure out what kind of person could be so awful under such a starkly opposite front. She quickly grew to like Y/n much more than she wanted to–she wanted to be a loyal friend, to hate the same people that Dina did, but she simply couldn’t bring herself to. But what Dina didn’t know wouldn’t hurt her, right?

It hadn’t seemed to be in the best interest of anyone to be open with her relationship with Y/n just yet. Dina would likely have given her the cold shoulder for God-knows how long, as she so often did with people, Jesse would have been forced to ignore her wherever possible, and Y/n would have faced some serious consequences from Dina and, by association, Jesse.

Y/n had a reputation around Jackson, and it wasn’t as if Ellie was put off by it, but she couldn’t help but wonder if she was just the latest obsession and would soon be kicked to the curb. As much as she liked Y/n, she wasn’t sure if she was ready to risk losing Dina and Jesse if what they had was nothing more than a passing fling, so it only made sense that she hadn’t told them yet. Plus, that stupid grin on his face was enough of a reason not to tell them.

“Stop looking at me like that,” She drawled, trotting alongside him on Shimmer, “Seriously, I’ll punch that smug little smile right off your stupid face.”

Ellie was honestly surprised that he had contained it this long so far, waiting until they were a fair distance from Jackson to even prod at the questions he’s been dying to ask.

“So…” Jesse paused, unsure of how to approach the conversation without being maimed by his best friend, “How long have you guys been… Are you together?”

“No,” She answered sharply, “We’re–I don’t know. A few weeks, I guess.”

“Honestly, I didn’t even think she liked girls. Does…anyone else know?”

Ellie rolled her eyes, “No, Jesse, Dina doesn’t know. She would probably kill me, which is why I didn’t tell you, and why you can’t tell her. Don’t bother asking anything else, ‘cause I’m not gonna tell you.”

Jesse grunted in response, nodding in silence for a few moments before he cleared his throat and leaned towards her ever so slightly as he muttered out his question.

“How is it?” He laughed at her incredulous expression, “What? It’s not like you can talk about this with anyone else, can you?”

She shook her head at him, turning her face away to keep her eyes on the path ahead of them, “I don’t–I mean…” Ellie sniffed, deciding to answer now rather than be bothered by him for the rest of patrol, “Yes, it is.”

Jesse howled in amusement, “Holy shit, you like like her, I can see it on your face.”

“I do not, I just–”

“You didn’t even look this smitten with Cat, and you were down bad for her too,” He continued, “So are you gonna ask her out?”

She shrugged in response.

“I don’t see why not. I mean, people talk, but she’s actually really nice, funny, not to mention that she’s like–”

“Don’t you dare finish that sentence,” Ellie pointed at him accusingly, “And you know why.”

“Because of Dina?” Jesse asked incredulously, “C’mon, don’t let her stop you from being happy. What happened between them, that’s like ancient history now, D will get over it.”

“Will she? I mean, she’s never even told me why she doesn’t like her.”

Jesse paused, almost as if he was unsure of how much he should actually reveal about the situation without betraying his girlfriend’s trust, “Listen, it’s really nothing. Just drama from when we were like thirteen, and you know that Dina can hold a grudge, but I really don’t think that she would be willing to just stop being friends with you because of it.”

Ellie shook her head once more, “Just forget it. This is supposed to be patrol, not therapy.” She chuckled at her own words, nudging at Shimmer to get her to pick up the pace and leaving Jesse in her dust.

***

The morning had progressed very slowly for Y/n. She had been left in quite a state; still frazzled from Ellie’s touches, while also distraught from her words. They hadn’t been very public about their relationship, if you could even call it that, but it hadn’t even occurred to Y/n that there might have been a reason behind the secrecy aside from Ellie’s preference to keep her life a bit more private. She knows that Ellie had been upset this morning, and she likely wouldn’t have said the things that she had otherwise, though that didn’t make it any better considering that she was upset because someone had seen them together.

Y/n knew what kind of reputation she had around Jackson. From a young age, she knew that she had issues with being alone–it terrified her to no end. Her father, while still doing the bare minimum, was not very present in her life beyond making sure that she was still breathing and punishing her for getting in trouble. Aside from that, he would have nothing to do with her, and more often than not, didn’t even spend the night in the same house as her. In truth, it would be more surprising if she hadn’t sought out comfort in others, and it was incredibly easy for her.

The first boy she ever kissed was Frank Cahill, who was a year older than her and just happened to be there at the right moment. She had been crying to herself silently after a fight with her father, curling into herself on the front step of the empty house. Frank happened to be walking by and said the right words for her to fall so easily into his arms.

From then on, Y/n fell in love with just about every guy she had ever been with. She needed companionship, and guys were willing to give it to her for the price of her body. The only issue being that not many stuck around afterwards, and some weren’t willing to “work for it” beyond what they deemed necessary, so she truthfully could not deny most of the rumours that had gone around about her. Of course, she wasn’t stupid and knew that many of these guys didn’t really like her, but those who were good enough at acting to trick her into believing their sweet whispers truly took a toll on her.

Which is why she was so caught off guard by Ellie’s treatment. Ellie had criticised the way that she allowed guys to treat her in the past, but made it clear to her that she didn’t think of her any differently because of it. If the embarrassment hadn’t been caused by the fact that she was a girl, it left her with no other reason other than that she was Y/n. Ellie was embarrassed to be seen with her, not because she wasn’t out yet, but because she didn’t want to be seen with Y/n in general.

Ellie was the first girl that she had ever been with. In fact, she hadn’t even considered the fact that she might like girls until she found herself seeking Ellie out and eventually beginning to fall for her. She was different from the others, seeming to actually be interested in her as a person rather than just another warm body, and even after they had slept together for the first time, she still stuck around. She was the first person to make Y/n feel like she was worth more than what she actually believed, but their interaction during the early hours of the morning made her question whether Ellie was actually as trustworthy as she had believed her to be.

Her eyes were droopy as she brushed through the soft chestnut hair of what felt like the thousandth horse of the day. She hadn’t managed to fall back to sleep after returning to her own house and needed to be at the stables for her shift only a few hours later. She was dreading the fact that Ellie would soon be returning from her morning patrol and would be coming straight there to return Shimmer for the night.

She glanced over her shoulder at the sound of her name being called, managing a cheerful smile as her eyes fell onto Maria’s figure, then onto the shy expression of the girl behind her.

“Y/n, this is Erin, she and her brother are new around town. I figured that the stables would be a good place for her to start out, so would you mind giving her a little show around when you’re done here?”

Y/n turned to face the girl, taking in her short brown hair and cocoa skin. She smiled at her kindly, nodding to Maria before offering her a hand to shake. The pair had fallen into an easy conversation, giggling quietly together in the corner of the stables as Erin helped her finish grooming the remaining horses.

Y/n found Erin to be a welcome distraction, not even noticing when Ellie and Jesse returned their horses.

Jesse glanced over at the two girls, then back to his friend, who’s eyes hadn’t left them since they had first set foot in the stables.

“Who’s that?” She asked Steven as she handed Shimmer’s reins off to him, an uneasy feeling settling into the pit of her belly.

“New girl,” He shrugged, “Weird, though. Could barely get a word out of Y/n all morning before she showed up.”

Ellie sneered as Steven led Shimmer back to her stall, resisting the urge to march over to the pair and stake her claim–but what claim? To the public, Ellie and Y/n barely know one another. They may speak in passing, but there really shouldn’t be any reason for Ellie to feel jealous over Y/n getting along with someone else. This is what she wanted, isn’t it? She had been mortified when Jesse caught them together earlier that morning, so what could have possibly changed enough in the few hours that she was gone in order for her to feel so differently?

The brunette would never admit it, but it had actually felt quite nice to be able to talk about the time that she spent with Y/n to someone–it made it feel much more real, like something real could actually sprout from their late-night talks and stolen kisses. Perhaps Dina could grow to accept Y/n as her partner, though she was certain it would take quite a bit of time for that to happen.

That dreamy image seemed to shatter as Ellie whipped around, marching out of the stables and leaving the two girls to themselves.

***

The Tipsy Bison was usually busy on Saturdays, and this one was no different. It had been a full day since Ellie had last spoken to Y/n, unable to get over her own pride and jealousy to approach her while she had Erin at her side, which seemed to be just about all the time now. She was thankful for the opportunity to get to the bar with her friends, to drink until her problems seemed so miniscule that she could almost completely forget about them.

But then she caught sight of Y/n tucked into a corner booth, sitting suspiciously close to an all-too-obvious Erin. The mixture of annoyance with Dina and Jesse, who seemed to be moments away from sneaking off, the jealousy, and the heat of the hard liquor in her veins had her fuming.

“Oh my God,” Dina had sneered in judgement, “Looks like she burned through all the guys in Jackson too fast and switched teams. Watch out, Ellie, you might be next.”

Jesse and Ellie shared a knowing look over Dina’s head, his dark eyes silently asking if she was going to do anything about the new girl blatantly flirting with Y/n, while Ellie’s simply betrayed the burning rage inside of her.

She saw her chance when Y/n got up to approach the bar, leaning her arms on the sticky bar top as she waited for Seth’s attention. Ellie sidled up alongside her, remaining a casual distance away from her as she barked out another drink order for herself.

“So you and Erin, huh?” She mumbled, glancing at the girl out of the corner of her eye.

“Sorry, are you talking to me?” Y/n looked around dramatically, hand rising to grasp at her own chest in shock, “Last I heard, you couldn’t be seen with me.”

“You know that’s not…what I meant.”

“No, how could I possibly know what you meant, Ellie? When one person saw us together and you suddenly didn’t want anything to do with me, what else was I supposed to think?”

She shrugged, “I don’t–”

“And Erin’s just a friend, by the way.”

Ellie chuckled humorlessly, “You’ve gotta be stupid to not see how into you she is.”

Y/n shook her head, “You know, that’s the second time you’ve called me dumb in the last two days, Ellie. And so what if she likes me? Honestly, it’s kinda nice to–” she paused, choking on a sudden onset of tears. She shook her head, refusing to allow her own emotions to spill out with Ellie present, “It’s nice to be around someone who’s not embarrassed to be seen with me.”

As if on cue, Seth placed the two drinks down in front of Y/n, allowing her to snatch them away from him and flee before Ellie could even think of a response.

#reader insert #x reader #imagines #lesbian #ellie williams #ellie x you #ellie williams x reader #ellie x y/n #ellie the last of us

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gay-jewish-bucky · 7 months

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Would love if folks could read Kafka and his work through the lens he actually lived through—a disabled Jewish man who was living during the heyday of the eugenics movement and in a time of rapidly rising antisemitism—and realize that having similar experiences and feelings does not mean he would have identified the way you do, that putting that identity onto him without any actual evidence plays into centuries old antisemitic conspiracies about cis perisex Jewish men not being "real men", and instead come to understand that marginalized people of all different identities have more in common than you may initially think, and use the connection that you feel to his work to help strengthen your solidarity with Jews and disabled people.

#jumblr #jewish #judaism #not gonna add other tags bc ik people will clown

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barbeygirl · 5 months

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Roofless Love

Eugene Roe x fem!reader

Summary: Eugene yearns over a nurse.

Warnings: A little obsessive maybe? Unrequited love. I wrote this a month ago in a weird mindset. She/her pronouns used for reader

Words: 250

Eugene’s eyes followed her movements. She was bringing water to the wounded and stocking up the stashes after the far too long awaited supply drop. Tonight the sick would go to sleep with food in their stomachs and with clean bandages. And she would be able to rest, along with the other medical personnel, without the stress of trying to heal someone without anything to give them. And you did seem calmer.

Gene wonders if it’s because of said stress and constant rush. The sleepless nights they’ve spent as new men are carried inside in the night’s shielding darkness. Is that why she never really gives him the time of the day? Her mind seemingly always somewhere else as he holds her close. Eugene tried to understand, he really did. He found so much comfort in you. He’d soothe himself to sleep with pretty thoughts about you. What were you thinking of? If not his touch, what did you find your comfort in?

Still, she never pushed him away. She lets him hold her hand and bring her head against his chest. They had spent a night together in a roofless, former factory building, sharing warmth. Eugene would share so much more if only she’d let him. He hadn’t felt anything like he had that night, in that old aid station, when he felt her body relax in his arms. He had looked up at the night sky and wished the sun would never rise again.

#can’t tell if i hate this or not #it’s kinda all over the place but it makes it kind of feel like a flow of thoughts #idk #eugene roe #band of brothers #band of brothers fanfic #eugene roe x reader #band of brothers x reader #hbo war #doc roe #Spotify #x reader

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footprintsinthesxnd · 22 days

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CONGRATS ON 1.5K JESS!!! 🥳🥳 i'm literally obsessed with the moodboard + drabble you did for eugene and violet....could we get josephine/nixon plus "It's okay. I couldn't sleep anyway" ?? moodboard or fic, whatever you're feeling :) <33

Thank you so much for your ask lovely. It’s been so long since I made anything for Josie and Lewis so this one was a real treat.

The night was still and quiet when Josie crept from her bed, making her way over to the small window in the hallway. She peaked through the tapped up panes, wishing she could have a clearer view of the nights sky. The moon shone brightly over the sleepy town of Aldbourne tonight. There was no movement outside meaning the streets were unusually quiet, not even one drunken paratrooper returning to his billet.

Tomorrow was supposed to be one of the happiest days of her life, and she truly couldn’t wait to become Mrs Nixon, but something kept her awake. It was a gnawing feeling in her stomach that just wouldn’t settle, and the more she thought about different scenarios of everything going wrong, the worse the feeling grew. Would Lewis really be at the alter tomorrow or would he have second thoughts? That was the worry that currently occupied her mind. Of course her friends had assured her that wouldn’t be the case, and Dick and Eugene were under strict instructions to have him at the church on time.

Josie sighed loudly, jumping at the light chuckle that came from behind her. She whipped around, tugging her dressing gown over herself quickly as she came face to face with the finger leaning against the door frame.

“Lewis, you scared me!” She scolded, raising her hand to her chest, feeling her heart beating rapidly from the sudden shock.

He smirked at her, sauntering over and placing his hands on her shoulders, “Sorry Josie,” he mumbled, placing a kiss to her cheek. “Can’t sleep?”

“No,” she shrugged sadly, “I have too much to think about.”

“Not having second thoughts I hope,” he laughed, but Josie could see the concern floating in his brown eyes, the soft crinkle on his forehead making her smile.

“Not at all. I just… well I’m just worried that everything won’t go to plan,” she admitted, biting her lip sheepishly. “I keep worrying that you’ll change your mind”.

Lewis smiled, brushing the loose strands of dark hair away from her face. “I could never change my mind, Josie. I love you and I can’t wait to marry you.”

He bent down to kiss her, savouring the soft feeling of her lips against his until she pulled away.

“You haven’t had a drink?” She asked, it felt strange to not have the familiar taste of VAT-69 on her lips after kissing Lewis.

“Not a drop, I want to make sure I was up bright and early in the morning ready for our big day. Thought I might even surprise Dick and get up before he does,” he chuckled, “Although that’s probably why I can’t fall asleep.”

Josie smiled up at him, cupping his stubbly cheek in her small hand, “It's okay. I couldn't sleep anyway either,” she assured him, pressing her lips to his once more. “And I don’t mind spending some quiet time together before the chaos of tomorrow.”

Lewis hummed in appreciation, wrapping his arms around her smaller frame and turning her so they could both face the window, looking out into the night. The sun would soon beginto rise over the tree line, bringing forth a new day, the biggest day of Josie’s life and she couldn’t wait. But in the cover of darkness she could relish in the comforting feeling of Lewis’ arms, his breath tickling her ear as he promised her that everything would be alright.

Tags: @georgieluz @mads-weasley @samwinchesterslostshoe @msmercury84 @blvestxr @dustyjumpwjngs @theflyingfin @jump-wings @kafka-ohdear @kmc1989 @xxluckystrike @docroesmorphine @liptonsbabe @hesbuckcompton-baby @ronsenthal @allthingsimagines @bucky32557038ww2 @hanniewinnix @inglourious-imagines @l13bg0tt @1waveshortofashipwreck @sweetxvanixlla

#young love and old money #band of brothers #Lewis Nixon #Josie wills #Lewis and Josie #Josephine wills

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elsmstrss · 1 year

Text

umm this turned out a lot more sad and like,, romantic than i intended lol. i'm trying to be better at writing smut so please treat her nicely. also i am so bad at titles so ignore that too.

almost lost you

tags: ellie williams x fem!reader , angst , hurt/comfort , soft ellie , reader almost dies , ellie is devastated , smut , oral sex (r!recieving) , ellie loves reader so much , lapslock , oneshot , actually proofread omg

it was a really close call.

"too fucking close," ellie was cursing to herself, obvious expression of pain and hurt and worry on her face. you couldn't help the feeling of guilt that washed over you as your girlfriend beat herself up.

you two had just gotten back from a relatively easy patrol. there were virtually no infected near jackson during this time of the year and you both knew that.

it's why you were a bit over confident and not as thorough. it's why you had almost gotten torn into by a couple of clickers near eugene's bookstore.

you were clean, just a bit shaken up. but ellie? oh, she was horrified.

she had been going on and on about some comic she was recently reading, excited to have found a missing issue in one of the deteriorated houses you both had been ransacking for supplies. ellie realized she no longer heard your little hums in response to her ramblings, her stomach dropping because when did it get so quiet? then there was a crash, that sickening clicking sound that could only be infected, and your screams.

ellie jumped into action, running down the dark hall, too far away from any light to reach from the main room's windows. the floor creaked from her heavy steps as she pushed the bedroom door open to reveal an infected on top of you, trying to claw at your face.

you were struggling to fight it off, your arm extended somewhere above your head, trying to find the knife that had escaped your grip when the clicker had tackled you to the floor.

"get the fuck off of her!" a quick movement, the squelch of a knife piercing flesh, the hard thump of a body hitting the ground, before ellie's face came into view.

the harsh rise and fall of her chest and the blood splattered across her face only emphasized the fury in her eyes. she was gripping her knife so hard her knuckles had paled, and she was shaking.

"ellie," you huffed out as you struggled to sit up. your body felt heavy, and just holding yourself up was proving to be a challenge.

your voice snapped ellie out of the trance, her eyes softening as her gaze fell to you. she rushed to you, falling to her knees, hands reaching out but she never made contact. it was as if she was scared to touch, like you were made of glass and one small brush would break you.

you could feel the tears start to well up in your eyes, the adrenaline starting to diminish as you began to feel the pain in your back, the burning from the scratches, and all the overwhelming feelings of almost fucking dying.

"oh, baby," ellie finally pulls you into her arms, cradling your head to her chest, "im so sorry, im so fucking sorry," ellie choked out, trying to hold in her own tears.

you had almost died. the love of her life had almost died and the thought crushed ellie to a million pieces inside.

it was a few hours later, now back at home. ellie had helped you out of your clothes and bathed you before bundling you up in her clothes and tucking you into bed. she was silent the entire time.

your eyes peaked out from the bundle of blankets as you watched ellie from across the room. she was standing in front of the window, stance wide, arms crossed over her chest. she was still, like a statue. it was dark outside now, and pouring rain.

the warm lighting from inside allowed you see her reflection in the glass, slightly distorted from the raindrops that stuck to the other side of the window. ellie's face was blank, but her eyes were dark. after dating ellie for years, and knowing her for much longer, you could tell her mind was racing.

"ellie," you croak, you throat a little scratchy from the screaming, "can you come to bed?"

silence.

"please?" you whisper. ellie lets out a long sigh but you don't miss the way it's shaky. she sniffles and then makes her way over, pulling the blankets up and sliding in.

she lays on her side, facing you. she tucks her tattooed arm under the side of her face, her other hand reaching out to brush the stray hairs from your face. her eyes are glistening and they looked so sad, but she keeps stroking your face with her fingers, tracing your eyebrows, the bridge of your nose.

you sigh softly and shut your eyes for a few moments. ellie's touch always could calm you, put you to sleep, rile you up. it was too powerful, she could control everything about you with a single touch if she wanted.

"ellie," you open your eyes, "talk to me please."

ellie stops her movements and you almost regret saying anything at all. there were a few beats of silence then ellie pulled your body closer, big hands on your waist, warming you up instantly.

"i thought i was going to lose you today," she's looking right into your eyes when she says it. her bottom lip quivers and her hold on you tightens. "i- i don't know what i would have done if i lost you today."

you suck in a sharp breath and your heart clenches at ellie's confession. you don't know what to say. ellie often has a hard time letting things go and this time won't be any different. you don't know what to say. you did almost die. you were being reckless and you almost had to pay the price for it. it killed you inside knowing that ellie blames herself. so, you take ellie's hand in yours and guide it back to your face, her palm cupping your cheek.

"i love you," you simply say.

ellie's thumb swipes under your eye, her gaze falling to your lips before going back up to your eyes. she pulls you in closer, so close you can see every little freckle across her face. you want to kiss each one until all the pain floats away.

your inspection gets cut short as you suddenly feel ellie's lips on yours. it's a deep and passionate kiss but your mouths stay closed. your eyes flutter shut as ellie angles her face to deepen the kiss more.

you kiss like that for a while, only breaking the kiss for air before ellie dives right back in. she kissed you with fervor, like you would disappear from her grasp at any moment. you guess she probably did feel that way. because you almost did disappear.

the thought makes something dark and painful swirl in your chest.

ellie suddenly pulls you on top of her, fast but so gentle. she's still handling you like your something fragile. if it was any other time, you might have been slightly annoyed, but you couldn't deny the dull ache settled deep in your bones.

ellie seemed to sense this too because her hands, that would normally pull, and squeeze, and drive you crazy, were now soft, and slow, and made you feel so precious.

the kiss slowed as ellie dragged her hands up and down your sides, resting at your hips. she pulled away to kiss the corner of your mouth, down your jaw and neck, leaving a small love bite there. you preen at the attention to the sensitive spot, the occasional moan of your girlfriends name would fall from your lips.

after a while, you had began to feel nothing but desperation for the woman under you. you whined and rolled your hips in ellie's lap. ellie seemed to have gotten the hint because she rolled your body over, now on your back. she crawled between your legs, the back of your thighs rested on her lap.

she stared down at you for a moment, the loving look on her face almost made you burst into tears right there but the way you needed ellie was far more intense.

ellie leaned down to kiss you once more before placing her hands on your hips, thumbs pushing under your sweater to feel the warm skin there. the contact made you gasp, her thumbs rubbing circles into your hips bones. she then uses both her hands to push the fabric up, revealing your whole front.

"so beautiful," ellie whispered, leaning down to kiss right above your belly button. she began to leave a trail of kisses up your body, tongue swiping along the smooth skin. it causes you to shiver, the cool air hitting the wet spots she left behind.

her tongue darts out to lick over your nipple, other hand cupping your other breast. she massages them, sucking and biting into the soft flesh. she must have left at least five different bruises on your tits, the sight making your panties dampen with want.

you hadn't realized ellie had slipped your pants off during her attack on your chest until you felt one of her long fingers dip between your clothed folds. the sensation causes you to gasp out a moan. your hips buck up slightly and ellie uses her other hand to gently push them back down.

"what do you want, my love?" ellie whispers, her finger still moving along your clit.

"you. want you els."

ellie captures your lips in hers, pulling your panties to the side and continuing to pleasure you. the sudden skin-on-skin contact makes you instantly weak. it's like a switch and your mind is suddenly fuzzy, your only thoughts are ellie.

you bite your lip, trying to contain your sounds of pleasure. ellie dips into your arousal, using your wetness to make the strokes against your clit easier. seeing you like this, half clothed and grinding against her fingers, you were a work of art in ellie's eyes.

ellie removed her fingers from your cunt, a soft whine leaving your lips. "don't worry baby, i'm right here," her eyes never leave yours as she maneuvers herself further down your body, her head now between your legs.

she starts slow, leaving kisses along the inside of your thigh, licking the dip where your hip meet your thigh. she teases along your mound, so close but not where you need. you're getting desperate again but ellie just shushes you.

your eyes roll to the back of your head, head falling back against the pillows when you feel ellie lick the first strip up your folds. she flicks her tongue against your clit, closing her lips around the sensitive bud and sucking. ellie always eats you out so good.

the sounds alone almost make you cum. you sink your fingers into ellie's hair, your eyes locking with hers. ellie slips a finger into you, and you can't help but let out a loud moan.

"that's it baby, lemme hear you," ellie adds another finger, fucking you slowly and deeply. a string of curses and whines leave you at ellie's request. something about ellie's movements are so desperate, like she can't get enough.

ellie thrusts her fingers a little harder, hitting your spot just right. it's starting to become too much and you can feel your orgasm building. "ellie, m close,"

ellie responds by focusing her fingers where you need, praises pouring out of her mouth between each lick and suck to your clit. ellie reaches out her free hand, searching for your own. when she feels your fingers gripping the sheets, she takes your hand and intertwines your fingers with hers.

you squirm, hips bucking up into ellie's mouth. your cunt is leaking all over ellie's lips and chin but she doesn't seem to mind. all ellie cares about is making you feel good, pleasuring you has always pleased her.

all it takes is the slightly harsher pressure of ellie's tongue and your suddenly cumming into ellie's mouth. ellie moans, the vibrations heightening your orgasm. you cry out ellie's name as she helps you ride out your high.

after a minute, ellie slowly pulls her fingers out. you lay exhausted on the bed as she makes quick work of cleaning you up, gently wiping at your sensitive skin.

she lays down next to you, chuckling at your sleepy expression. she pulls your sweater back down, covering you with the blankets once more. you lean in to ellie, your body instinctively gravitating towards her.

you're half asleep when you hear ellie sigh. you knew tomorrow you would need to talk. talk about what happened today, how it made you both feel, ellie would probably try and convince you to never go beyond jackson's walls again.

but, it could wait for the morning. you two have been through so much together and you would be okay.

ellie nuzzles her nose to your temple, leaving a small kiss there before whispering, "i love you more."

#ellie williams x reader #ellie williams x you #ellie williams #the last of us #tlou #tlou2 #ellie williams headcanons #ellie williams drabble #ellie williams fanfic #ellie williams smut

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hexonthepeach · 7 months

Text

a gentle tongue breaketh the bone | 16: acceptance

pairing: fem hybrid fox omega!reader/hybrid Alpha!nct 127

tags: reverse harem, non-traditional omegaverse hybrid! cyberpunk au, pack dynamics, polyamory, slowburn/slowbuild, angst & hurt/comfort, heavy content warnings inc. torture, graphic violence, suicidal ideation, explicit sexual content

summary: the year is 2127. decades of eugenics and warfare have led to the rise of designated populations: the ruler Alphas and their rare, prized omegas sequestered from the Beta population. in the aftermath of the War of the Two Tigers, New Goryeo ushers in an Imperial dynasty determined not by birthright but by the alliance of the Syndicate’s clancorps to choose the best pack of your generation. you are destined to take your place within the Imperial harem as a queen, and–perhaps–Imperatrix herself

but you have a secret, written into your skin and bones–one that could easily kill you, depending on who finds it out

ten years ago you chose your Alpha and their pack in a fateful meeting

now, you must make them choose you

[masterlist & glossary] [read on AO3] [0: prologue] [1: escape, again] [2: lost and found] [3: returned] [4: bound] [5: home] [6: gift] [7: reunion] [8: security] [9: secret] [10: prisoner] [11: gambit] [12: haze] [13: shock] [14: feral] [15: release]

wc: 4.4k

chapter warnings: defcon 5 critical levels of angst, mentions of self-harm, recovery from trauma, suicidal ideation

recommended listening: this next arc in the story brought to you by sneaker pimp's squaring the circle (2021) but especially tranquility trap

They don't speak over you or for you, anymore. They speak at you now.

When you are in a room they treat you as if you are its center, a point around which everything revolves. Perhaps they had always considered you this way, but this is a different kind of recognition.

Meanwhile, you refuse to speak, or favor them with your recognition. You no longer have to.

You don't meet Jungwoo's eyes when his shaking hands disable the collar around your throat. You hold your lips tight against any sound when Taeil tentatively lifts your face to pluck a splinter of plastic or glass from your cheek.

You're no longer registering the pain, despite your refusal of medication. There's a roiling hot chamber inside of you that has no pressure relief, but it's nothing compared to the sewage of other people's emotions. You curl in on yourself, unseeing instead, letting your own will disappear.

This is the pack bond. Before it had just nagged at you: agitation and disgust and disinterest were always at the corner of your mind. You couldn't have expected anything better with Johnny's rejection. In a way it would have been easier if it just stayed that way, forever.

Now, you're a conduit for something else.

Remorse.

It suffocates you.

Taeil had been the first to pry in, more patiently and carefully than you expected. You'd been forced to hold still as his steady hands faltered, as he left the room to regroup–the bitter chemical scent of nicotine clinging to his coat when he'd returned, finding you curled into Haechan's vacant bed, white sheet draped over you.

He'd made everyone leave the room so he could attend to the new scratches you'd made in your forearm, automatic movements recreating something you could feel in your left wrist.

Not your wrist, you think.

Then your ankle, which at this point has healed–wrongly. He can’t treat it until you give consent for sedation, too compromised by your shared pain to make the incisions necessary to reconnect the tendons snapped too far apart to rejoin naturally.

You expect him to continue the examination, surely the reason you’d caught the redness of his eyes from crying was because of that other, deep pain inside. But he makes no move to broach your physical space outside of gently resting his hand on your shoulder, letting the pressure increase when you don’t jerk away.

You realize after a few minutes of silence between you that it was just an excuse to finally get the shadow out from beside your hospital bed.

“I want you to take all the time you need,” he says. “Wherever you want to go, whatever you need, we'll support you.”

If it’s tiring just to feel, listening to their false supplications wears you to dust.

"I told Taeyong everything," Jungwoo says, quietly, working at the broken mechanism of your collar when he releases it from your sore neck. "We'll have a tribunal. You can decide what you want to do, then. I accept it. He accepts it. Just please . . . Have mercy for him."

His large eyes lift to you, watery in their sympathy. You meet them for an instant, and he flees like a frightened child.

Doyoung and Yuta had followed–both formal in their own way.

"You can lodge a complaint with the Syndicate, of course," Doyoung says. "But the contract is annulled. We'll find a place for you to live outside of the Dome comfortably and make up an airtight story about your resignation. You'll be safe, and free. If you choose."

Safe, and free. If you chose. You could laugh. You knew better than to dabble in delusion.

Yuta is the only one you feel truth from when he approaches you–artifice nonexistent as he stands beside you, choosing the best words. He seems to understand reconciliation is impossible.

"You didn't deserve this," he says. "I'm sorry."

You offer him nothing.

"I already put in my resignation with Taeyong. Back to NSMP, if Johnny doesn't tear my throat out. Good luck, princess."

And then Taeyong. He'd only been able to manage a few words before he'd collapsed into quiet crying, taken away by Taeil and Doyoung before he could upset you even more.

Haechan hasn’t entered the room at all, his ghost present in the pillow beneath you and the fleeting bright flickers of anger that race over you when you can catch fresher traces of his ozone-like scent through the opening and closing doors.

You're grateful for the fact that he's not treating you like the others. If there's any comfort in all of this it's that he doesn't pity you at all. You can't stand the hypocrisy of it.

Mark–so deeply comatose you can hardly see him breathe–sleeps in the bed beside you. You spend a long time watching him breathe, eyes focusing and unfocusing on the new sharpness of his face in the dimmed fluorescent lighting. He's never looked less of a child than he does now, pulled back from death’s doorstep.

You think he's the best company you could ask for.

Especially since the worst offender of this newfound curse hasn't wanted to leave your side, no matter what you throw at him, objects and cold fury alike. Even the doctor’s order to leave the room was half-accomplished; he'd settled on going into Taeil’s quarters where he could keep you in sight.

His pacing would make you go mad alone, but then there are his feelings. Naked and raw and so wholly exposed it’s as if they’re yours, if they weren’t so nauseatingly not.

He's quaking in his skin, anger flitting between any target but you. No, when Johnny looks at you now you feel the sickly crawl of his concern, the hopeless self-loathing and the warm bloom of affection he can no longer hide.

It's disgusting to you, worse even than the lust that he and the others so guiltily try to ignore.

You're still in heat after all–it's just a biological imperative. Nothing real.

"We need both of you to help us take care of this," Yuta says, more serious and quiet than you've ever heard him when he returns to the room. "He's threatening to do it himself."

Your head snaps up, disrupting Taeil's work checking the burn marks on the back of your neck.

"Where is he?" You finally speak, voice hollow.

Yuta's mouth forms a thin line, eyes flicking to Johnny's back where he sits besides Taeil's bed. If Johnny has registered what he said, head in his hands, he doesn't show it.

"Leave it." Taeil says, softly. "You don't have to–"

"Don't tell me what to do." You slip down from the hospital bed, yanking the IV from your arm. Taeil reaches for you but you duck away from him, letting your rage blaze across the new connection.

Everyone in the room feels it.

"It's pack business," Yuta explains. "We'll take care of it."

You hobble towards him, enjoying the way he backs up, eyes widening.

"Take me to him," you say.

"After–"

"Now," you order. "Don't look at him."

You maintain eye contact, swaying a little when you try to pull yourself to full height. It hurts to stand up, to breathe–ribs reknitting slowly inside your bruised chest.

"Let her go," Taeil says. "We owe her that."

"No," Johnny interrupts, finally. You feel him unwind from where he's been hiding, hesitating when you snarl under your breath at him.

You won't look at him, you can’t.

"You will not speak to me or for me. You will not say one word to me until I tell you to," you say to the room. From the corner of your eye you see Johnny shrink, almost, back curled like he's been punched in the stomach. It feels like it, too.

You don't wait for them to change their mind–you make your way out, slowly and with fresh jolts of pain, pushing past Taeil.

You don't need them to tell you where he is--you can feel your newest bondmark like a black hole in your mind, his misery so thick it burns the edges of your vision.

They hadn't taken him back to his cell–no he was in the hangar. The room most fitting to clean up an execution, or something worse.

The two cats trail you at a distance, Yuta's hand snaking out to grab you when your bad leg gives out beneath you. Despite your impulse to pull away you let him support your side, heartbeat slowing a little with the tenderness. As distant as it is, you know he's just as emotionally attuned to you as the others–you feel his care when he finally decides to carry you with his arm around your neck.

You make him put you down before the doors slide open. You want to face this on your own two feet.

The rest of the pack is here, and not one of them is prepared for the sight of you.

"You shouldn't–" Doyoung begins, words cut short by some gesture from Johnny. Taeyong lifts his head from where he's being supported by Haechan as he stands over Jaehyun, the younger Canid offering you nothing but contempt when he looks at you.

There, huddled on the floor, bound and collared and muzzled, is the creature that raped you.

No longer in jimseung, he's so much smaller and less threatening. Even beneath the synthetic mask you can see his face twist, eyes red and swollen from crying, fresh grief shaking his body as he stares at the floor.

"Take that off of him," you say, flatly. Taeyong's eyes go wide, head shaking. He looks terrible–face drawn and sweaty, eyelids drooping from exhaustion as he puts himself between you.

"It's not safe," Doyoung says, hands raised as he approaches. You glare at him, stopping him in his tracks.

"Do whatever she says." Johnny's voice is barely audible.

Jungwoo moves quickly to remove the muzzle from Jaehyun, his own eyes red-rimmed as they dart to you, watching you move forward–slowly–towards the captive feral. He’s a livewire of fear for his friend, you know. Why wouldn’t any of them be afraid of your wrath now after being on the receiving end of it for the past 12 hours?

"Wait."

Taeyong drops to his knees in front of you, gestures submissive as he holds himself on the floor in a deep prostration, tail and ears drooped.

"Please, ____," he begins, as you step around him, ignoring his rushed lead-in to a formal apology.

You don't stop until your bandaged feet are in Jaehyun's view, until you're standing over him. He's just as unkempt as when you’d left him, smelling of blood and fried electronics, the knife wound in his side no longer bleeding but crusted brown with layers of healed and reopened scabs.

Only the mark you'd given him seems to be fresh, bleeding through a hasty attempt to bandage it. It will scar, eventually. If he lives that long.

He whispers something inaudible now that his muzzle has been removed.

You place a hand on his scalp, gently, and lean down to hear it. It’s just a high-pitched whine, crackling with each breath, repeated like a mantra.

"I'msorryi'msorryi'msorry.”

"I know," you soothe. “I am, too.”

You drop down and wrap your arms around him, holding him tight as he tries to escape–bound too well at his hands and ankles to avoid you. You knew they hadn’t tied him up for fear of him, but rather for his own safety. After a few seconds in your embrace he gives up, head heavy against your shoulder. He tastes like an old book left open in the sun, cypress trees waving in the wind.

"Shhh," you say, hand soothing his back. You rest your head against the side of his, pressed into his human ear as you feel him weep into your clothing, trembling in waves.

"Do you remember what I told you?" you ask.

He nods, reluctantly, chin tucked in.

The fragile link between you sings with the feelings you share with him. There's fear and mistrust there–of course. But they're not the primary color. Even when you'd first bitten him, the animal taking over to stop the pain, you'd given him this promise.

Peace. Like light on the surface of a deep, calm sea.

"Forget this," you said. "Forget what happened."

Even then you’d known it was the cruelest order you could give another person. It had seemed to work at the time, long enough at least for him to pass out from blood loss beside you, holding onto you in the dark and cold until you could finally free yourself.

The confusion and regret is still there, but now you know the true depth of years of self-loathing, and fear.

"You didn't do anything wrong," you say, loud enough the others can still hear you, muffled in his hair. "I forgive you."

And then–as before, cruelty in your kindness–you ask him for one, last favor.

Your command should have been inaudible to the other men in the room, as whispered as it was under the cage of your arms.

"No–NO!" You don't know who speaks, hearing the commotion as everyone moves at once–just not quickly enough.

Jaehyun resists it but only for a fraction of a second–teeth breaking the skin of your neck in the most gentle bite possible, a final attempt to fight against the inevitable. Heat floods your chest and throat as you feel it in his, every last fiber of connection snapping into place as you've willed it, even as he chokes out an anguished cry at the forced claim.

You're torn from him in a heartbeat, gun cocked and held to your head rather than aimed at the Alpha collapsing to the floor. Jaehyun gags and spits at that tiny bit of your flesh, retching horribly.

You look up at Haechan, offering no resistance. Venom is in his gaze as he holds you by the scruff, sunk deeper by his certainty.

"She ordered him to do it," he says. "She ordered him to claim her."

"I did," you say. "It was my choice, alone. I forced him to."

"Did you mark him before he–" Haechan’s bitter words break as you grab his gun to press against the muzzle, daring him to make good on his threat. He tries to pull away but you stay locked on it, shuffling forward to meet it.

"He’s mine now,” you goad him. “Under my protection. A life for life.”

You wonder for a moment if he'll be the one to do what the rest of the pack should have done a long time ago, his finger tensing over the trigger.

You wouldn't mind this end–you can’t lie to yourself in accepting that it was the same one you'd chased when you’d found yourself alone in that room. It had seemed like the only relief for you, for the others.

How can you live with what you'd done? had been your first thought, a repeated stanza going back so far, when you’d first realized what it meant to take a life by your teeth and words alone. Not that stupid man who’d tried to take your innocence, but the one who’d saved you from drowning only to be hunted for it.

It was a contradiction too deeply at war with the omega inside you, the one who wanted to quietly and selflessly bow to the desires of your Alpha in return for protection, and pleasure. All that instinct and denial could only translate to the simplest solution: remove yourself from the equation.

Instead like a parasite inside of you, you’d passed that desire from host to host, until you were surrounded by minds and hearts just as broken as yours.

Yes, you'd been abused. Treated unfairly. But those things were woven into the fabric of your existence in the same way the curse had hung over your head since returning to Neo Seoul. A lotus flowering in the muck, they'd called you. Queen of one thousand kingdoms. A treasure in the dirt, a diamond retrieved from war-blasted earth.

Queen of nothing, you think. Just a void and a receptacle for everyone else’s pain, over and over again in endless cycles until you could finally free yourself from this cycle of karmic rehabilitation.

Live, you'd told the man beside you as he dreamed. Forget about this, and live. You're free now.

The irony being that you'd never be able to.

You can only mourn the fact that . . . for a minute made endless when you’d slipped beneath the surface into unconsciousness . . . you'd known true peace.

They're the ones who brought you back into this nightmare. Who taught you that there is nothing there, that you'll never truly be free.

Surely the younger feels that memory pass through you, knows that horror intimately as you look up in his unyielding eyes.

Haechan's nostrils flare, gun lowering.

"It's your fault," he repeats, wiping his face on his shoulder as he collects himself. "I know none of you give a shit about justice but you need to try her first. She isn't pack. She won’t be."

"She saved him," Jungwoo answers. "He's not in jimseung anymore–"

"If that's saving I'd rather die," Haechan yells back, bristling. "You don't know what it feels like–"

"Stop this. It's done," Doyoung breaks the standoff. "We need everyone present and in full comportment to make a decision."

"No."

It's Jaehyun who finally answers, surprising you all by how calm he sounds. "You know what to do."

You don't realize who it's directed at until Johnny moves fluidly to lift the other man, hands wrapped around his throat.

"No!" you scream, fighting Haechan. Johnny ignores you, the exposed muscles of his bare back rippling as his claws broach the other man's bruised skin over the glint of his collar, thumbs pressed into his trachea. Jaehyun offers no resistance, eyes closed tight.

"Kill him and you kill me," you cry out, hands jerking the gun beneath Haechan's grip to your breast. The Canid realizes your intention before you can speak, ripping his grasp away, throwing the weapon to slide across the floor.

For a moment you see the malicious satisfaction of having bested you, can feel the sympathetic sneer tugging on your own lips.

"Let go," you order, and Haechan drops you just as quickly.

You scrabble over the grating to Johnny, mind racing to think of some solution–anything to stop the horrible, slow choke of your mate, the air captured in your lungs–

"Let him–"

Your scream is cut short by a hand snaking over your face, a body wrapped around yours.

"Stop," Taeyong says. "Both of you. Now."

It's not an order but Johnny freezes, the silence that follows horrendous in the pinging of blood steadily dripping to the floor. It courses down Jaehyun's limp feet, his breaths rattling.

"____" Your name whispered in your ear rouses you from the haze of terror and agony and adrenaline. "Are you with me?"

You nod, lips twisting under the other omega's knobby grasp. His scent burns through you, tempered by the heat and your own claim, alcohol-sharp and spiced.

"No orders," he says, exhaustedly. "Accept him."

You toss your head. You could break free but there's an overwhelming comfort in Taeyong's hold that slows you down, making you ease out of the panic attack. Your claws dig into the metal flooring, shriek loud in the unnatural silence.

"Accept," he repeats. His fingers slip free of your mouth, lingering on your shirt as he licks gently at your weeping neck wound.

It should make you fight back more but your tension dissolves, legs sprawled beneath you as you sink to the floor. The unspoken promise in that gesture is clear to you–he'll accept you, too. Perhaps he has already, when he'd reached out for you on that rooftop.

Taeyong's mind is yours, his emotions overwhelming in their honesty. You see the field of battle as clearly as if you were standing on it, the white flag of surrender limp at your side.

Only one person can end this madness. Only one person can make all of this misery disappear. It's no longer as simple as disappearing. No, you don't have that exit anymore.

"Alpha," you say, addressing him, finally.

Johnny doesn't move except to lower his arms, mirroring your slow surrender.

"Alpha, please," you repeat.

You hear Jaehyun's body thud as he hits the floor when he finally let's him go.

Johnny is cringing again, folding inward with realization. You're struck by how far he's gone, irrationally fixated on the sight of another marking you in front of him. He's on the edge of a full shift, dark waves rippling over his skin and disappearing into the cant of his ears.

"You let him claim you," he says quietly.

That nonsensical animal, Alpha urge to dominate. To remind the other male that he's intruded on his possession.

He would kill everyone in this room if it meant having you solely for himself–no matter what they've shared. He wants to punish everyone responsible, beginning with himself. It's eating him from the inside and dissolving everything good.

But the worst crime, you know, is how quickly you'd whispered those words.

I forgive you.

He'd felt what you'd denied him–always–given so freely to a person you barely knew, who'd taken what he'd believed was his. Maybe he would have taken his time in pursuing you, when he felt it was right, but he'd let you be the one to decide if he was worth waiting for. Secretly, selfishly, he'd hoped you'd choose him.

Forgive him.

That is the dagger in his heart only you can pull out.

You let the wall come down between you, a brick at a time.

You send him an impression, first. The simplest one you have–the one you'd kept of him the first night you'd seen him human, unobserved, not knowing you were in the room yet.

His easy smile, his deep laugh at something a stranger said. The way he'd carefully observed the room between attention–how his eyes had widened when he'd first caught your scent, hiding the exposure under a thick layer of fear at your discovery or bringing any danger to you.

But you had felt it then–had chased what it had meant to you–that golden flame of recognition in your chest flaring to life as it had in his.

Even if it was a stupid dream he'd been the prince you sought, your knight in shining armor who could take you away from the solitude of your tower.

No–not just your hero. Your Alpha.

"I don't know who you are at all," you say. "You're more a stranger to me than anyone else in the world."

You feel something wet and warm on your face. "The only thing I understood after we bonded was you could never willingly accept me even if you wanted to. Even if I wanted you to."

"You were a child," he says, staring at his bloodied, barely human hand.

"You were too," you say. Taeil's words had embedded in you, writ deep with how those words affected him. Nineteen years old was nothing, it still feels like yesterday the way thirteen does to you.

"I waited a decade for you. I know it was stupid of me to hold on to but you were my safety. I would have just been nobody, a prize for someone else to take if I hadn't held onto the hope that one day, someday, you'd come back for me."

Your voice cracks as the things you've held in spill out. You're addressing your prime, now, but the words are for them all.

"I didn't know that I'd end up here when I ran away. I just made a decision, when I saw you again. That I wanted to be with you. Whatever the cost."

You let that penetrate, looking up to the Canid beside you. Haechan doesn't meet your eyes, hand unconsciously pressed to the bandage around his neck. You turn to take on the stares of the others in the room–Doyoung, Yuta, Jungwoo.

"I'm not sorry for wanting to be with you. I can only apologize for hurting the people you love."

And you.

You suck in a breath, wincing at the push of your lungs against your tortured breastbone. "It will take me a long time to forget the way you've treated me. I didn't deserve it."

It wasn't his fault he was a monster. They all were. But so are you, under scrutiny.

You choke on a sob, pain pushed outward. "You don't deserve me. I'm not nothing. And even if I was . . . You should have been more kind."

You steady yourself, Taeyong pulling back to allow you the space needed to stay centered. In this moment, surrounded and overwhelmed as you are by the intricacies of their responses, you are alone. For the first time in a very long time, you are yourself–nothing hidden or influenced.

"But I want you to try." You say. "I want us to live, any way we can. I want to try."

You mimic Taeyong's obeisance, bowed so deep that your head touches the floor. Your tail curls at your side, neck offered in place of the man beside you.

"I accept you. The will of the pack is mine, including whatever punishment you decide. I am yours . . . If you will have me."

No one answers, not even Taeyong–his breath held in his chest as he looks up at the prime standing over you both, radiating a complex anger in his posture and scent.

It takes a long time for him to answer.

"A life for a life," Johnny echoes, softly.

"A life for a life," you affirm, finally sobbing. The sound is muffled as you choke on it, hysterics making you frantically fight for air.

Johnny hunches down and you can't keep from flinching away. It rings through you both as if a deep wound has been torn open once more. This time it's a bone broken with the intention of resetting it.

"I need time," you say between stuttering breaths. "Please, Alpha."

Any relief you feel in the room is swept up in the deluge of fury radiating from Johnny, unable to hold it any longer. It swirls through you, as sudden as he becomes the beast again, crates and equipment swept aside as he storms away, wrecking everything in his wake.

You don't watch him leave, reaching instead for an unconscious Jaehyun to pull him into your lap. You press a torn sleeve to his ravaged neck, his head lolling against your thigh.

"Take care of us," you plead, even if the man you're speaking to can no longer hear you–only the phantom of his presence in the room. "Be strong for us. All of us."

You feel the weight of the others' regard, knowing they won't approach you unless asked to, or speak to you unasked.

"I need you," you whisper.

[previous] [next] [check the masterlist before you proceed]

#agtbtb #nct x reader #nct 127 x reader #nct 127 omegaverse #nct 127 cyberpunk au #nct fic #nct 127 fic #nct imagines #nct 127 fanfic #nct smut #nct 127 smut #nct 127 imagines

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fintan-pyren · 1 year

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headcanons about queerness in elven society [spoiler: they're basically homophobic except for when they're busy with eugenics]

In elven society, a great amount of value is placed on proliferation and passing on powerful genes, and thus marriages to the opposite sex. This does not, however, mean that the elves do not form same-sex relationships. As elves (particularly those with powerful abilities) are often encouraged to enter marriages in order to produce powerful offspring, even with no romantic interest in their spouse, it's not unusual for queer elves to form same-sex relationships outside of their marriages. These relationships are tolerated, but generally kept secret.

It is expected, however, that these relationships do not interfere with marriage, and that powerful elves still marry and produce offspring. Elves who neglect to do so or choose to have such a relationship in place of marriage to a member of the opposite sex are met with the same prejudice and scorn as Bad Matches or Unmatchable elves.

Some elves may avoid this by becoming a Councillor (or publicly declaring their intent to do so), but this only delays this expectation, as Councillors are expected to eventually retire and form families. One notable example is Former Councillor Fallon Vacker, who steadfastly refused to retire from the Council for a full millenium before eventually giving in and leaving the Council to marry his eventual wife.

An exception to the expectation of marriage to a member of the opposite sex is Talentless elves and, ever since the Fall of the Five and the subsequent pyrokinesis ban, pyrokinetics. As these elves are considered to have undesirable genetics (though there is a rising movement towards accepting these elves as equals to the Talented), they have no obligation to produce offspring. Banished elves living in the Neutral Territories are viewed similarly. As a result, these elves are free to publicly have same-sex relationships with little backlash. Former Councillor Fintan Pyren is known to take advantage of this fact with much enthusiasm.

#kotlc

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cotidianoseeder · 3 months

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Can we just talk about how Imperium is a perfect representation of fascism and Nazism?

I can't be the only one to have noticed how Imperium is identical to a Nazi-fascist nation, it all fits together perfectly!

"Fascism is an ultranationalist and authoritarian political ideology characterized by dictatorial power, repression of opposition through force and strong regimentation of society and the economy. Although fascist parties and movements present significant divergences among themselves, it is possible to point out several common characteristics, including extreme nationalism, contempt for electoral democracy and political and economic freedom, belief in a natural social hierarchy and the dominance of elites, and the desire to create a community of the people in which individual interests are subordinated to the interests of the nation. Opposed to liberalism, Marxism, socialism and anarchism, fascism is positioned on the extreme right of the traditional political spectrum."

I barely know where to start, it's all just so identical. The first thing we noticed when seeing Imperium for the first time is how it gives off the vibe of being a completely closed country, in addition to being extremely advanced in technology.

Features that match:

1) Cult of the leader: Certainly one of the most visible characteristics when thinking about Imperium. There are several posters of the Empress all over the city, the inhabitants are always trying to impress her by giving salutes, especially the "Hail to the Empress" which honestly reminds me a lot of "Hail Hitler". Everything is for the empress and to make her proud.

2) Nationalism: It's all for the good of the Imperium and its citizens, no matter if you hurt dragons, humans or anything else. Nothing should and can harm the honor of the Imperium.

3) Emphasis on militarism: The light mechanism that Sora created with good intentions was transformed into a weapon of war! We always see Imperium soldiers patrolling the region, as the entire city is made for attack and has an exceptionally strong defense.

4) Media control and censorship: It's super obvious that all media is controlled by Imperium, and honestly, I think they can even create channels that pretend they don't belong to the government to say that Imperium is a "democracy".

5) Worship of tradition, xenophobia and eugenics: "We must not let Imperium mix with all these savage cultures." Honestly, in Dragons Rising this was one of the lines that stuck with me the most. At the same time the Empress said this, my mind actually confirmed that this was the same as a fascist regime. This whole issue of Imperium being a more advanced and superior culture, the people of Imperium are more intelligent, stronger, beautiful, evolved. Anything else outside is inferior and automatically a source of strangeness and must be eliminated as quickly as possible.

6) "Sacrifices are necessary for the greater good": This is more focused on Nazism itself, but the part about lying about dragon energy, claiming that it was a safe place reminds me a lot of the Holocaust. I watched a documentary on Netflix called "Holocaust Killers: Ordinary Men" or something like that, and if I'm not mistaken, in that documentary it was said that the Nazis created false news about the camp. They showed the inhabitants of Germany that it was a safe and extremely fun place for Jews, although in reality, they were in sub-human conditions and suffering both physically and psychologically. Another point is that they used the experiments on humans there to claim that it was "a necessary sacrifice" to ruin the lives of the Aryans. For Imperium, it is also a necessary sacrifice to trap dragons and put them in ill-treatment conditions, as it was for the "good" of the race.

Furthermore, there are several other details that I don't even remember, I should watch the series again and after that I would have to read a book about fascism. But something that really interested me was the Imperium Teen Protection force, do you know who else resembled them? Blackshirts, a leader support group, a "national security militia"…. BOOM! They are identical to the black shirts of Italian fascism! Okay, not so equally, while the group of teenagers is considerably smaller and less violent, but in general they have the same principle, even the same color of clothes (of course there is the issue of black being a cool color and matching the modern kingdom design).

Honestly, nothing convinces me otherwise, and I think that if you study history and watched the series you certainly felt the same connection with this historical moment. Let's face it, if Ninjago wasn't a series for children, everything focused on Prime Empire would be MUCH more violent. I'm sure they could even put in a "Hail Beatrix", criticize the moral and religious issues (conservatives certainly wouldn't like it, there is already a trace of criticism towards them in the canon, imagine that explicitly). So, this was my first opinion about Ninjago Dragons Rising and I really love this connection they made, especially while many far-right conservative movements and neo-Nazi movements (unfortunately rising from the ashes, these people have to study more history from good sources) continue to emerge. So that's it, sorry for the horrible writing and the bad translation, I don't speak English and stuff like that! I hope you enjoyed it and have a good day!

Note: This post does not aim to defend any far-right movement or neo-facist view. It's just my opinion related to the series, if it seems like I defended these movements, I'm sorry, but that's certainly not my intention.

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religion-is-a-mental-illness · 3 months

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By: Robert F. Graboyes

Published: Jan 28, 2024

On this, the 79th anniversary of the liberation of Auschwitz, the Holocaust Remembrance industry stands as a colossal failure. Holocaust Remembrance Day, it turns out, successfully transfixed eyes on the rear-view mirror and diverted attention from the dangers 10 feet in front of us. And, truth be told, the rear-view mirror is growing a bit foggy, as well. Less than a century ago, the leading intellectuals of Germany—the most highly educated nation on earth—initiated, participated in, or acquiesced to mass murder on a previously unimaginable scale. And only weeks ago, intellectuals in America, Europe, and elsewhere waxed lyrical over the rape, torture, mutilation, murder, beheading, and kidnapping of innocent Jews.

An important parallel underlies both historical episodes. Both Hitler and Hamas were the cancerous outgrowths of respectable and sometimes altruistic intellectual movements that saw individuals as nothing more than avatars of demographic groups, defined by immutable characteristics. At my own Substack, Bastiat’s Window, I’ve written of this in “The Briar and the Rose,” “Intellectual Tyrants Beget True Believers,” and “Zola, Weiss, and J'Accuse...! 2023.”

A century ago, eugenics provided the unquestioned and unquestionable foundation for academic writing and public policy. Eugenics preached a world of predestination, where an individual’s worth was irrevocably determined at birth by race, religion, gender, sexuality, disability, economic status, and family history. No one could escape his or her essentialist destiny by dint of action, accomplishment, or character. Eugenics began as parlor conversation among well-born, well-educated, often well-meaning British academics. Then, it jumped the Atlantic and gave rise to a sexual sterilization machine in America—enabled by a debauched Supreme Court. Finally, it leaped back to Europe, where it metastasized into the Holocaust.

In our time, the equivalent academic tendency is one that travels under many names—diversity, equity, and inclusion (DEI); critical race theory (CRT); antiracism; white fragility; intersectionality; social justice; anticolonialism; social and emotional learning; progressivism; safetyism; critical social justice; identity Marxism; and (primarily to its denigrators) “wokeness.” The central connective tenet in all of this is something called “equity”—which does not in any way resemble any traditional definition of the word.

A note on nomenclature: “equitism”

Writers like Thomas Klingenstein on the right, Freddie DeBoer on the left, and Bari Weiss in the center decry the lack of a consistent name for this intellectual and activist movement. I use the term “equitism” here and suggest it to others. Unlike “equity,” “equitism” offers no ambiguity of meaning. Unlike, say “the equity agenda,” “equitism” is a single word. Advocates of this philosophy often present “equity” as a substitute for “equality,” so “equitism” is parallel to “egalitarianism.” Unlike “woke,” “equitism” is not an insult or pejorative, and the web shows that a few advocates have used the term to describe themselves. I’ll use the term below for simplicity and clarity.

Equitism as echo of eugenics

Like eugenics a century earlier, equitism presumes that demography is destiny, with some demographic groups imperiled by the immutable malignities of other groups. This often manifests itself as a Manichaean “oppressor/oppressed” dichotomy across demographic categories. Intersectionality and other frameworks array groups along a spectrum between these polar opposites. In its most extreme manifestation, this weltanschauung justifies horrific punishment of perceived “oppressors.” Hence, the pro-Hamas marchers proclaiming “by any means necessary”—which presumably includes baking babies to death in ovens, tying parents to children and immolating them together, raping young girls till their pelvises shatter, beheading children in front of their parents, and visiting all manner of depravities upon elderly Holocaust survivors—as long as they are Israelis and Israelis are classified as oppressors.

Clearly, those Western professors celebrating Hamas have not absorbed whatever lessons that Holocaust Museums were designed to impart. To name one category of protestors, LGBTQ+ Jews marching for Hamas seem not to understand the message of Martin Niemöller. The most enthusiastic practitioners of Holocaust Remembrance, unfortunately, seem to be the members of Hamas, who learned the lessons of those years all too well. It should noted that David Patterson’s 2022 scholarly work, Judaism, Antisemitism, and Holocaust: Making the Connections, documents Hamas’s literal organizational and philosophical links to Hitler’s Nazis.

The central feature of both the Holocaust and of Hamas’s slaughter is that once one abandons the sanctity of individuals and considers only the presumed virtues and vices of demographic groups, one is free to attack those deemed unvirtuous in any way.

Furthermore, equitism, like eugenics, can anesthetize those who do not share the murderous intentions of the Nazis or Hamas. The United States Holocaust Memorial Museum has been open for 31 years, but its mission clearly failed to educate the Ivy League presidents who hemmed and hawed and equivocated over questions of whether calls for genocide against Jews qualified as protected speech on the same campuses where subjectively discerned microaggressions or misuse of preferred pronouns are grounds for ostracism and punishment.

Who wants to contradict something called “social justice” or “diversity�� or “equity?” The anesthetic effect seems to have impacted even the Holocaust museums themselves. At Commentary magazine, Seth Mandel asked, “Why Are Holocaust Museums Cowering in Silence?”

Corrosion begins in microscopic proportions

The most important lesson for Holocaust Remembrance comes from Dr. Leo Alexander’s simple, chilling statement that “corrosion begins in microscopic proportions.” Alexander, an American psychiatrist, neurologist, educator, and author, of Austrian-Jewish origin, was a key medical advisor during the Nuremberg Trials. He wrote part of the Nuremberg Code, which provides legal and ethical principles for scientific experiment on humans, and discovered that German doctors didn’t fail to stop the Nazis’ program of genocide and barbaric medical experimentation. Rather, he discovered they didn’t do more to stop the horrors because they were instrumental in initiating them. In a 2018 article on this subject, I argued that:

German doctors enthusiastically volunteered for [service] to, and leadership within, the Third Reich. Deputy Fuhrer Rudolf Hess declared Nazism ‘nothing but applied biology,’ and many German doctors apparently agreed.” Collectively, they decided that medicine’s primary purpose was to build “an economically productive populace,” a concept that “opened the floodgates for atrocities.”

By contrast, Alexander found that Dutch physicians following the Nazi conquest of the Netherlands, unanimously rejected this assumption and viewed their role as healing and comforting the sick and dying. Even when threatened with punishment and death, “humility assured that no Dutch doctors participated in the Holocaust.

German doctors, besotted with eugenics, gladly segmented society by ethnicity, by disabilities, by sexuality, and so forth. And once they began thinking of groups (e.g., productive versus nonproductive races), rather than of individuals, then they were free to commit atrocities in good conscience—or at least to acquiesce in the atrocities committed by others. The same dynamic plays out today on the campuses of America or the streets of London and Paris and Sydney.

Alexander’s work is described in James A. Maccaro’s brief 1997 article “From Small Beginnings: The Road to Genocide.” Alexander’s full paper is his 1948 New England Journal of Medicine report on “Medical Science Under Dictatorship.” A century ago, the oxidants that began society’s corrosion lay in eugenics. Today, the oxidants lie in equitism.

In the early 20th century, eugenics was almost universally accepted by academicians, politicians, doctors, the general public, and celebrities. Opposing eugenics put one’s career and friendships in peril. One of the few public intellectuals to oppose this madness was the British writer G. K. Chesterton, author of Eugenics and Other Evils (1922). Chesterton understood better than anyone that evil comes most often not from evil people, but rather from good people with unmoored ethics. In 1908, he wrote:

The modern world is not evil; in some ways the modern world is far too good. It is full of wild and wasted virtues. When a religious scheme is shattered (as Christianity was shattered at the Reformation), it is not merely the vices that are let loose. The vices are, indeed, let loose, and they wander and do damage. But the virtues are let loose also; and the virtues wander more wildly, and the virtues do more terrible damage. The modern world is full of the old Christian virtues gone mad. The virtues have gone mad because they have been isolated from each other and are wandering alone. Thus some scientists care for truth; and their truth is pitiless. Thus some humanitarians only care for pity; and their pity (I am sorry to say) is often untruthful.

Holocaust Remembrance Day is a worthy project, but not if it is solely backward-looking. Looking for Nazis in 2024 is a futile endeavor. Scanning the horizon in front of us for those with parallel intent is far more urgent and challenging.

As goes the aphorism, “History doesn’t repeat itself, but it rhymes.”

#Holocaust Remembrance Day #Holocaust Memorial Day #Holocaust Remembrance #Auschwitz #Robert F. Graboyes #antisemitism #equitism #woke #wokeness #wokeism #cult of woke #wokeness as religion #Substitution Hypothesis #eugenics #Third Reich #religion is a mental illness #International Holocaust Remembrance Day

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hazardous-waste-containment · 6 months

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non-exhaustive list of sources that are imo especially interesting/thought-provoking, just really solid, or otherwise a personal favorite:

MISC

“Leaders and Martyrs: Codreanu, Mosley and José Antonio,” Stephen M. Cullen (1986)

“Bureaucratic Politics in Radical Military Regimes,” Gregory J. Kasza (1987)

A History of Fascism, 1914–1945, Stanley Payne (1996)

The Fascist Revolution: Toward a General Theory of Fascism, George L. Mosse (1999)

Fascism Outside Europe: The European Impulse against Domestic Conditions in the Diffusion of Global Fascism, ed. Stein U. Larsen (2001)

Ancient Religions, Modern Politics: The Islamic Case in Comparative Perspective, Michael Cook (2014)

MARXISM

“Crisis and the Way Out: The Rise of Fascism in Italy and Germany,” Mihály Vajda (1972)

“Austro-Marxist Interpretation of Fascism,” Gerhard Botz (1976)

“Fascism: some common misconceptions,” Noel Ignatin (1978)

“Gramsci’s Interpretation of Fascism,” Walter L. Adamson (1980)

ARGENTINA

“The Ideological Origins of Right and Left Nationalism in Argentina, 1930–43,” Alberto Spektorowski (1994)

“The Making of an Argentine Fascist. Leopoldo Lugones: From Revolutionary Left to Radical Nationalism,” Alberto Spektorowski (1996)

“Argentine Nacionalismo before Perón: The Case of the Alianza de la Juventud Nacionalista, 1937–c. 1943,” Marcus Klein (2001)

BRAZIL

“Tenentismo in the Brazilian Revolution of 1930,” John D. Wirth (1964)

“Ação Integralista Brasileira: Fascism in Brazil, 1932–1938,” Stanley E. Hilton (1972)

“Integralism and the Brazilian Catholic Church,” Margaret Todaro Williams (1974)

“Ideology and Diplomacy: Italian Fascism and Brazil (1935–1938),” Ricardo Silva Seitenfus (1984)

“The corporatist thought in Miguel Reale: readings of Italian fascism in Brazilian integralismo,” João Fábio Bertonha (2013)

CHILE

“Corporatism and Functionalism in Modern Chilean Politics,” Paul W. Drake (1978)

“Nationalist Movements and Fascist Ideology in Chile,” Jean Grugel (1985)

“A Case of Non-European Fascism: Chilean National Socialism in the 1930s,” Mario Sznajder (1993)

CHINA

Revolutionary Nativism: Fascism and Culture in China, 1925–1937, Maggie Clinton (2017)

CROATIA

“An Authoritarian Parliament: The Croatian State Sabor of 1942,” Yeshayahu Jelinek (1980)

“The End of “Historical-Ideological Bedazzlement”: Cold War Politics and Émigré Croatian Separatist Violence, 1950–1980,” Mate Nikola Tokić (2012)

EGYPT

“An Interpretation of Nasserism,” Willard Range (1959)

Egypt’s Young Rebels: “Young Egypt,” 1933–1952, James P. Jankowski (1975)

“The Use of the Pharaonic Past in Modern Egyptian Nationalism,” Michael Wood (1998)

FRANCE

“Mores, “The First National Socialist”,” Robert F. Byrnes (1950)

“The Political Transition of Jacques Doriot,” Gilbert D. Allardyce (1966)

“National Socialism and Antisemitism: The Case of Maurice Barrès,” Zeev Sternhell (1973)

“Georges Valois and the Faisceau: The Making and Breaking of a Fascist,” Jules Levey (1973)

“The Condottieri of the Collaboration: Mouvement Social Révolutionnaire,” Bertram M. Gordon (1975)

“Myth and Violence: The Fascism of Julius Evola and Alain de Benoist,” Thomas Sheehan (1981)

GERMANY

“A German Racial Revolution?” Milan L. Hauner (1984)

“Abortion and Eugenics in Nazi Germany,” Henry P. David, Jochen Fleischhacker, and Charlotte Höhn (1988)

“Nietzschean Socialism — Left and Right, 1890–1933,” Steven E. Aschheim (1988)

The Brown Plague: Travels in Late Weimar and Early Nazi Germany, Daniel Guérin, tr. Robert Schwartzwald (1994)

“Hitler and the Uniqueness of Nazism,” Ian Kershaw (2004)

HAITI

“Ideology and Political Protest in Haiti, 1930–1946,” David Nicholls (1974)

“Michel-Rolph Trouillot’s State Against Nation: A Critique of the Totalitarian Paradigm,” Robert Fatton, Jr. (2013)

IRAN

“Iran’s Islamic Revolution in Comparative Perspective,” Said Amir Arjomand (1986)

IRAQ

“Arab-Kurdish Rivalries in Iraq,” Lettie M. Wenner (1963)

“From Paper State to Caliphate: The Ideology of the Islamic State,” Cole Bunzel (2015)

“Iraqi Archives and the Failure of Saddam’s Worldview in 2003,” Samuel Helfont (2023)

ISRAEL

“The Emergence of the Israeli Radical Right,” Ehud Sprinzak (1989)

“Max Nordau, Liberalism and the New Jew,” George L. Mosse (1992)

The Stern Gang: Ideology, Politics and Terror, 1940–1949, Joseph Heller (1995)

““Hebrew” Culture: The Shared Foundations of Ratosh’s Ideology and Poetry,” Elliott Rabin (1999)

“Israel’s fascist sideshow takes center stage,” Natasha Roth-Rowland (2019)

“‘Frightening proportions’: On Meir Kahane’s assimilation doctrine,” Erik Magnusson (2021)

ITALY

“The Fascist Conception of Law,” H. Arthur Steiner (1936)

“The Goals of Italian Fascism,” Edward R. Tannenbaum (1969)

“Fascist Modernization in Italy: Traditional or Revolutionary?” Roland Sarti (1970)

“Fascism as Political Religion,” Emilio Gentile (1990)

“I redentori della vittoria: On Fiume’s Place in the Genealogy of Fascism,” Hans Ulrich Gumbrecht (1996)

JAPAN

“A New Look at the Problem of “Japanese Fascism”,” George M. Wilson (1968)

“Marxism and National Socialism in Taishō Japan: The Thought of Takabatake Motoyuki,” Germaine A. Hoston (1984)

“Fascism from Below? A Comparative Perspective on the Japanese Right, 1931–1936,” Gregory J. Kasza (1984)

“Japan’s Wartime Labor Policy: A Search for Method,” Ernest J. Notar (1985)

“Fascism from Above? Japan’s Kakushin Right in Comparative Perspective,” Gregory J. Kasza (2001)

PARAGUAY

“Political Aspects of the Paraguayan Revolution, 1936–1940,” Harris Gaylord Warren (1950)

“Toward a Weberian Characterization of the Stroessner Regime in Paraguay (1954–1989),” Marcial Antonio Riquelme (1994)

ROMANIA

“The Men of the Archangel,” Eugen Weber (1966)

“Breaking the Teeth of Time: Mythical Time and the “Terror of History” in the Rhetoric of the Legionary Movement in Interwar Romania,” Raul Carstocea (2015)

RUSSIA

“Was There a Russian Fascism? The Union of Russian People,” Hans Rogger (1964)

“The All-Russian Fascist Party,” Erwin Oberländer (1966)

“The Zhirinovsky Threat,” Jacob W. Kipp (1994)

Russian Fascism: Traditions, Tendencies, Movements, Stephen Shenfield (2000)

“Why fascists took over the Reichstag but have not captured the Kremlin: a comparison of Weimar Germany and post-Soviet Russia,” Steffen Kailitz and Andreas Umland (2017)

SLOVAKIA

“Storm-troopers in Slovakia: the Rodobrana and the Hlinka Guard,” Yeshayahu Jelinek (1971)

SPAIN

“The Forgotten Falangist: Ernesto Gimenez Cabellero,” Douglas W. Foard (1975)

Fascism in Spain, 1923–1977, Stanley Payne (1999)

“Spanish Fascism as a Political Religion (1931–1941),” Zira Box and Ismael Saz (2011)

SYRIA

The Ba‘th and the Creation of Modern Syria, David Roberts (1987)

TURKEY

“Kemalist Authoritarianism and fascist Trends in Turkey during the Interwar Period,” Fikret Adanïr (2001)

“The Other From Within: Pan-Turkist Mythmaking and the Expulsion of the Turkish Left,” Gregory A. Burris (2007)

“The Racist Critics of Atatürk and Kemalism, from the 1930s to the 1960s,” İlker Aytürk (2011)

UNITED KINGDOM

“Northern Ireland and British fascism in the inter-war years,” James Loughlin (1995)

“‘What’s the Big Idea?’: Oswald Mosley, the British Union of Fascists and Generic Fascism,” Gary Love (2007)

“Why Fascism? Sir Oswald Mosley and the Conception of the British Union of Fascists,” Matthew Worley (2011)

UNITED STATES

“Ezra Pound and American Fascism,” Victor C. Ferkiss (1955)

“Populist Influences on American Fascism,” Victor C. Ferkiss (1957)

“Vigilante Fascism: The Black Legion as an American Hybrid,” Peter H. Amann (1983)

“Silver Shirts in the Northwest: Politics, Personalities, and Prophecies in the 1930s,” Eckard V. Toy, Jr. (1989)

“Women in the 1920s’ Ku Klux Klan Movement,” Kathleen M. Blee (1991)

“‘Leaderless Resistance’,” Jeffrey Kaplan (1997)

“The post-war paths of occult national socialism: from Rockwell and Madole to Manson,” Jeffrey Kaplan (2001)

“The Upward Path: Palingenesis, Political Religion and the National Alliance,” Martin Durham (2004)

“The F Word: Is Donald Trump a fascist?” Dylan Matthews (2021)

“Castizo Futurism and the Contradictions of Multiracial White Nationalism,” Ben Lorber and Natalie Li (2022)

#this is not The Masterpost this has just emerged along the way #and there's definitely plenty that could go here that aren't bc i just got tired of listing them #i need somewhere and preferably multiple places to put sources so i feel like ive accomplished something when i finish reading them lol

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myrddin-wylt · 8 months

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Hi! Could you say more on the yao and gilbert disability HCs you put in the tags? This is my shit because I’m legally blind!!! Jazz hands

Yeah! readmore for post length

Gilbert's eyesight and skin sensitivity are complications from his albinism. the NIH says that lack of melanin tends to cause several issues:

poor eyesight – either short-sightedness or long-sightedness, and low vision (sight loss that cannot be corrected)

astigmatism – where the cornea (clear layer at the front of the eye) is not perfectly curved or the lens is an abnormal shape, causing blurred vision (mood!)

photophobia – where the eyes are sensitive to light

nystagmus – where the eyes move involuntarily from side to side, causing reduced vision; you do not see the world as "wobbling" because your brain adapts to your eye movement

squint – where the eyes point in different directions

vulnerability to sunburn, inability to tan

Those are, to my knowledge, very very very common with albinism and I wish they'd be depicted more because there's such a contrast between how albinism is treated in fiction vs irl. Fictional albino characters are usually considered exotic and glamorous whereas people with albinism irl are often shunned, and imo part of the reason for the contrast is that fiction sanitizes the condition (gives them dark eyelashes and brows, doesn't depict unfocused eyes etc) so that the characters are .... basically not disabled. often fictional portrayals of albinism just totally ignore the aspects that make it a disability rather than an oddity.

regarding Gilbert, something very strange I've noticed is that back in Ye Olden Days, it actually wasn't super unusual to see depictions of Gilbert's albinism as having some sort of effect on him (whether it be social or physical, and running the gamut from minor inconvenience to significantly disabling) but I nowadays I just never see it acknowledged at all. that's so strange to me. which is a shame, because you'd think it'd have a significant impact on him, whether that means in his Teutonic days - especially pre-Prussia, where he would've been running around the Levant in all the sunshine and heat that entails - or Kingdom of Prussia and onward. like presumably Gilbert has good reason to be Less Than Thrilled about things like, for example, the popular rise of eugenics.

my thoughts on Yao's disability are more tentative, mostly because unlike Gilbert's albinism, Yao's disability isn't congenital; if anything, Yao has the same problem Arthur has in that centuries upon centuries of injury, misuse while recovering and thus healing incorrectly etc have left him with permanent mobility issues that affect him even when he forms a completely new body. specifically for Yao, it's his shoulder that's fucked up- he can't lift his arm further than parallel to the ground, and even doing that is a struggle for him as it is. the rest of his arm isn't much better and he routinely suffers from muscle weakness and pain, though his shoulder is the biggest issue.

a big problem for Yao is that not having full use of his shoulder completely destroyed his ability to use a bow and arrow, which really fucked with him because my headcanon is that Yao is considered one of the single best archers in history. I'm playing with the idea that his shoulder issues are actually something that contributed heavily to the advent of early firearms; if he can't pull a bowstring, maybe he can still aim a hand cannon? not sure about the success on that and it's entirely likely early firearms just worsened his injuries. whoops. but I do really like the idea as it acknowledges that a lot of inventions came to be as a result of someone trying to accommodate for their disability or that or a loved one.

(Obligatory but important side-note: POC with albinism get significantly worse social ostracization and fetishization than people who would still be considered white without their condition. There are a lot of reasons for this, and it's worth pointing out because the albinism does not make a POC count as "white" - at least in current American culture - even if they're literally white due to lack of melanin, and the because race is a historically-contingent social construct and not determined by genetics etc etc. this has nothing to do with hetalia or Gilbert except that I thought I'd mention it while I was on the subject.)

#ask #anon #myrd's hcs #hetalia headcanons #hetalia hcs #hetalia hc #hetalia headcanon #hws prussia #hws china

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theflagscene · 3 months

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I just saw the WIP tag thing, can I ask about 13 (toddblack) and 18 (aepete)???

13 - Even MORE ToddBlack

“What are you doing?” Black asked as he slipped out of his shoes by the door, which he locked rather pointedly once he had seen who was in the apartment.

“Knitting a sweater, clearly.” Todd deadpanned, which caused Black to scoff in annoyance at his boyfriend.

“You’re such an asshole.” Black grumbled, Todd only humming in response, knowing him it was most likely in agreement with the statement. “I’m going to shower.” Black announced, heading toward the small bathroom tucked away in the back of the apartment. Todd said nothing, just reading his book in the low lamplight. Black paused as he passed the side of the bed, seeing one of the little dolls that Eugene had bought him as a gift years ago when they were still dating was on the floor. It was the one wearing the little knit hat with an E on it, the one that wore the hat with a B on it still stood primly on the nightstand. Black narrowed his eyes at Todd who was the picture of innocence - which Black knew was a load of bullshit - as he crouched down and picked the trinket up. He glared at Todd as he very firmly put it back on his nightstand next to the other one, Todd arching his eyebrow slightly at the movement but saying nothing. “Don’t touch anything, I’m going to shower.”

“You already said that.” Todd pointed out.

“Not the touching part.”

“Hmm.” Todd just hummed in reply nonchalantly.

18 - AePetePWP

(This isn’t anything special lol, just a smutty one shot from the LBC episode 12 ‘punishment’ scene)

Do you know what I wanna do now?

I don’t know, what do you wanna do?

Make you moan, so they can hear you through these thin fucking walls.

Pete nearly blacked out hearing those words drop from Ae’s lips, they had been together many times but he never truly was ready for Ae’s dirty talk. Given the chance Ae could get down right vulgar, his words often causing a tingling squirming sensation to rise up in Pete’s belly, a nervous sort of excitement. Like what he was hearing was wrong, but he wanted to hear more of it nonetheless. “Ae…” Pete breathed gently, biting back a small whimper when Ae bit down on the corded muscle that ran along the side of Pete’s neck that was standing out against the pale column of skin thanks to how he had his head thrown back against the pillow.

Send me a WIP and get a snippet!

#wip tag game #tag game answers #wip fanfiction #reply #toddblack #aepete

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seventyfishes · 13 days

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Amerikan fascism

Fascism is here moment... but George Jackson i think correctly identifies the victory of the fascist-corporativist movement in the 1930s with the defeat of the organized communist and socialist parties (including the targeted assassinations of revolutionaries, disappearances... classic stuff). Including really innovative and dynamic social organizations, like the Communist Party in Alabama. "The movement's very existence validates literary critic Mikhail Bakhtin's observation that a culture is not static but open, 'capable of death and renewal, transcending itself, that is exceeding its own boundaries'". Fascism has been here a long time, and it changes its face all the time...

In the 30s there was a failed & small revolutionary tendency that was snuffed out; and capitalism, through its actors the ruling class, senses organized dissent and the potential awakening of the masses and contracts into a fascistic form (monopoly capitalism & person corporations). However, this is kind of second to the fact that there was actually organized dissent and some mounting mass consciousness... I keep going back and forth here but Blood in My Eye is reminding me that we are dealing with an extremely calcified system of economic and political domination.

But again, fascism is grafted onto hate already extant; there's something emotional necessary for capitalism to function... and white racial hatred is the mechanism Amerikan fascism employs. Jackson argues fascism employs science in order to combat scientific socialism. (Marx is a scientist people... as is Lenin... all great philosophers are scientists...). He means that more like in tactics, a la Mussolini bringing the cadre system to il fascio, but its also kind of literalized in the history of racial/ized science. There were KKK marches on the capitol in the 20s, and a rise of eugenics. A white socialists in Alabama in 1905 argued against the struggle against race & class on the basis that white people in Alabama were surrounded by "some eight millions of more or less civilized people, belonging to a race in a stage of evolution so far removed from our own that for aught we can see at present, assimilation must be impossible for an indefinite period." And the ruling class of Amerika really bought into that evolution shit as proof of concept of their own superiority, the inferiority of who they oppress...

Anyway fascism is so deeply embedded in our lives. That life, the life fascism dictates all but the elites have, is becoming more painful to a lot of people now, as it changes our ways in major forms. We are almost no longer required to believe we live in a participatory democracy; the mask of fascism is now fascism itself.

#r #fascism #america

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chicknstripz · 11 months

Text

∘₊✧ [[ Kindred Spirits ]] ✧₊∘

Pairings || None Warnings || Paranoia, Mentions of ‘Decommissioning’, Eugenics, Bullying. Synopsis || Jaing learns something new about the cloning program, and Tech learns that the Batch aren't the only deviants in the facility. Chapters || [1][2] (reposted as the original wouldn't allow me to change the format)

The mess was a riot of sound, a constant chatter that grated on Jaing’s nerves as he gave the space a quick once over.

Kaminoans? None. Alphas? Again, none, the usual threats completely absent.

So why then, were his instincts on edge? A frenzied itch that started at the back of his scalp and tingled down his spine. Another look, another check, but again nothing, his paranoia rising as he tried to narrow down the threat. There had to be something! It wasn’t like his instincts to lie to him about this kind of thing, the swirl of anxiety settling in the space just above his heart as he eyed the chow line.

“Where’s the rest of your pathetic batch?”

He halted in mid-stride, the jibe instantly rousing his anger. Expect the jibe wasn’t aimed his way - a quick swivel of his head revealing the cause of his paranoia.

A crowd of cadets had gathered around one of the tables, their broad backs hiding the object of their unsavory attention. At first he thought the troopers had ganged up on one of his brothers, his eyes narrowing as he stormed his way across the room, but the closer he got the more certain he became that this wasn't a null. Soft brown hair, a shade lighter than his own peeped out from between shoulders, followed by a spectacled face - the set of the eyes revealing slight frustration at the attention as Jaing stopped just behind the apparent ring leader of the group.

“I don’t know who said that, but you better kriff off - the lot of you.”

“Make us!”

He gave the idiot what Kal would call ‘the null special’, his lips peeling back to reveal his pearly whites.

“You don’t want that, it tends to be painful.”

The trooper gave him a quick once over, scoffed, then walked off, which was for the best as Jaing didn’t want to start another brawl in the mess hall.

“That was completely unnecessary, I had the situation under control.”

“Like hell you did.”

Jaing huffed as he seated himself opposite the cadet, the seat protesting as he leaned his weight into its back. He’d put on a lot of muscle in the past year or so, his frame filling out as he transitioned from spindly youth to bulky soldier, and he could see Tech reaching the conclusion all Troopers did when they met him for the first time.

“You are an ARC Trooper, are you not?”

He watched the kid trace his finger across the screen of his datapad, the movement precise as he dumped a mouthful of information that’d more than delight Prudii.

“Kaminoan data suggests there are two ARC variants in production. The first is the alpha variant, a batch of one hundred and fifty soldiers who’ve had their genetics carefully curated by Nala Se. The second is the trooper variant, forward thinking individuals who’ve been singled out by their commanders as being worthy of specialized training. Based on your build and age, I would say you were the former.”

Jaing scoffed. If there was one thing he hated, it was being mistaken for an alpha!

“If I was an alpha I would have punched first and asked questions later.”

“Then, what, exactly, are you?

“A disappointment"

Tech clearly didn't get the joke, the arc of his brows visible over his goggles as he rolled his thumb into the corner of the screen - just like Prudii would do when he got frustrated with something.

"That's hardly an explanation"

"It was for the Kaminonans."

The cadet was still giving him that look, the amber of his eyes boring into him with such intensity that he felt like he was looking at a fellow null.

"You're a deviant then? Interesting. I thought there were only four of us."

Jaing jolted at the off-hand comment, his anxiety rising to a fever pitch at the very idea that he’d missed something important. How could he, the data slicer extraordinaire, have missed that there was another deviant batch of clones? Unless, of course, this cadet had been lied to? He wouldn’t put it past the awiha bait to run psychological experiments on run of the mill troopers.

“I was under the impression the Kaminaons stopped the production of specialized units not long after the Alpha run.”

He watched the younger clone tip his head, his thumbs settling in the lower corners of his datapad whilst he digested his words. Jaing was familiar with what a highly intelligent individual looked like, knew well the tells and traits of someone that had eidetic memory, and whilst he didn’t think this clone had perfect recall he did think he had something close - the gracile brows setting low over his eyes as he lowered his ‘pad to the top of his thighs.

“I’m no expert on the matter, but I would recon - based on our growth charts and mental capacity - that we were produced shortly after the first batch of gen-ones were decanted.”

Jaing closed his eyes as he built a mental image of this new timeline, the production of whatever Tech was slipping neatly between the Alpha program and the gen one troopers.

“So that’d make you, what, three years my junior?”

“Impossible! There are no variants on record that pre-date the Alphas, and most of them are two years our senior.”

He motioned for the cadet to hand him his datapad, his fore and index fingers curling in a ‘give it here’ gesture that made the youngster huff in vague worry - as if he was going to ruin the device.

“Udessi kih’vod, I’m not going to ruin your ‘pad. If anything, it'll be in a much better condition when I return it.”

The kid clearly doesn’t believe him, the hard stare invoking a sense of deep kinship that made Jaing feel sorry for his brothers. How many times had he given them the exact same look? His lips pursed into a thin line as one of them, usually Prudii, tried to techsplain a technical problem he’d already solved. The ‘pad settled into his palm, a familiar weight that settled his nerves as he turned the screen toward him for a cursory inspection. Impressive firewall and VPN, with what looked to be a handmade GUI, the image laid over a system that definitely was not GAR standard.

“This your work --”

He left an open for the kid to introduce himself, the fingers of his right hand lifting from the back of the ‘pad as he did so.

“CT-9902”

“I don’t do the whole designation thing kih’vod, just give me your name.”

“Tech”

“Jaing”

Tech nods, giving him another examination that left him exposed.

“As in the mandalorian training master?”

“Yes, as in the training master”

Jaing isn’t comfortable with the whole ‘being named after a legendary mandalorian’ thing, none of them are - especially not Mereel, but they’ve lived with their monikers for so long that changing them feels wrong. So they live with the impossible expectations, with the skeletons in the closets - the pains of a past that wasn’t theirs stacking alongside the pain of a flash pumped education and growth spurts.

“Surprised you know about that to be honest.”

“I’ve been doing some light reading, figured it’d come in useful if we ever get sent to Mandalore.”

He lifts his shoulders in a shrug as he slips his datachip into Tech’s terminal, watching with immense satisfaction as the cadet’s in-built system checks for viruses.

“Just as long as you remember to take what you read with a grain of salt.”

“I’m well aware that the vast majority of historical texts are ‘written by the victor’, and thus liable to be full of bias.”

Good. Good. Whomever has been teaching the cadet has a good head on their shoulders, which is for the best if you ask him. Too many of the troopers are getting a shoddy education, their flashpumping followed by a hasty run through live sims that made his gut churn, and too few are being exposed to the mandalorian mindset - their inability to think on their feet dooming them to death. He sighs as he opens the file he’s looking for, the corners of his lips sinking as he sets the item to the top of the table, and slides it across to Tech.

“Then you’ll get a kick out of this.”

“What, exactly, am I looking at?”

“A redacted file that was supposed to be destroyed when the aiwha bait started mass-production of the gen-ones”

He watched Tech’s eyes flitter over the information, the press of his lips growing thinner and thinner, until only a sliver of skin remained - the skin bone white with the pressure as his eyes surveyed him from over the top of the pad.

“It’s not often I’m rendered mute, but this is--”

“Unethical?”

“That would be the correct word, however I find it wholly unfitting of the information revealed by this text. ‘The remaining units have been assessed for behavioral issues following the completion of their flash training. It is our findings that they, and I’m quoting here, are highly aggressive, and unfit for duty. Therefore it is our recommendation they be designated Null and sent for decommissioning.’”

Tech placed his datapad to the table, the silent fury in his eyes poking at the small part of Jaing’s brain that formed tight connections with his vode.

“However, I don’t see anything in this report that indicates why your, huh-hum, issues should warrant such an order. High intellect and, as Wrecker would so quaintly put it, the balls to ignore illogical orders, are favorable for special forces.”

“Tell that to the Kaminoans.”

The pair fell into a long silence, a deep understanding of the other forming as they watched the comings and goings of the various battalions. Tech found in Jaing a much needed sign that he wasn’t alone, that there was at least one other trooper that shared in his genius. Jaing felt similar, though he still wasn’t sure how or why the Kaminoans had made another ‘high-end’ batch when he had turned out so poorly.

“So -- your batch -- what special traits did they breed into you?”

Tech shrugged, scrolling his finger up the screen as he continued to scan through the file Jaing had shared with him.

“It varies. Hunter, our sergeant, has heightened senses. He can feel the electromagnetic pulses that run through the facility, a ground based radar if you will, makes it impossible for us to get lost. Wrecker, well, he’s built like the commandos. Tall, broad, and muscular. Can easily haul three times his weight from one end of the sim to the other. Then we’re got Crosshair --”

There’s a pause, a brief breath that tells Jaing this vod is the ‘outsider’ of the group.

“-- he’s had his eyesight enhanced, can hit a precise target from across the mud pan.”

Tech lifts his free hand, thumb and forefinger pressed together to demonstrate the size of the target, and Jaing - precise and skilled Jaing - whistles in admiration as he knows just how hard it is to hit a target that small from nine hundred yards away.

“And then there’s you, the genius.”

“I will admit that my intellect is far higher than the regs, however I wouldn’t call myself a genius -- not yet by any rate.”

Humility, as Kal would say, was a good trait for a mando’ade to have, the soft air of it hanging around the -- commando? Jaing isn’t quite sure what to call Tech just yet, but he does know he’s been bred and trained for something other than regular field work, and that? That riled something in him, the sense of ‘something’s not right here’ sitting deep in his gut as he drummed his fingers on the table top.

“Have you ever wondered why they made you?”

Tech cocks his head, completely unbothered by the null asking what, would be to some, a rude question.

“It is not my place to ask the wherefores.”

“Well then maybe it should be!”

And there it was, the key difference between him and whatever Tech was - the deep and rooted ember that landed him and his brothers on the chopping block. Jaing couldn’t accept what he’d been told as the truth, couldn’t sit back and go with the flow like the so-called ‘regs’ did. No. He asked questions. He prodded and pried, slipped his way into places he didn’t belong solely because he couldn’t accept that life was black and white, and accepted that the later gens didn’t think like that? It was kriffing hard! His mind a whir as he remembered the insurmountable wall that existed between him and his kih’vode.

“Sorry. I sometimes forget myself.”

“It’s quite alright. I too, find my mouth running ahead of my thoughts on the odd occasion.”

Well at least he hadn’t offended him. It really would be a new low on the ‘Jaing tries to make friends with someone’ ladder, which wasn’t that high a ladder in the first place, but hey, he was trying here, his shoulders dropping from his ears as he tapped the side of his vambrace.

“Jate, Jate, I’d hate if it was just me putting my big ole boot in my mouth.”

Tech smiled, the first true smile he’d seen from the fellow cadet since he sat down, and Jaing was struck by how young he looked - his cheeks and jaw still rounded with fat.

“I take it it’s not a trait you share with the rest of your batch?”

“Not to this degree, no.”

He definitely had it the worst, though Mereel and A’den were a close second when it came to the fine art of unintentionally insulting aruetiise.

“I could go on and on like this all day, but I don’t have the time nor the energy.”

“Training sims?”

“No. We’re being trained the good old fashioned way.”

“Perhaps you will care to enlighten me about that the next time we talk?”

Jaing would usually say no to a next time, would usually insist that he keep himself to himself, but Tech? He was different. He wanted to spend time with him, wanted to learn, and who was he to say no when he’d been complaining about Tech not being trained right not half an hour before?

“How about we make a deal? I will tell you about my training regime if you promise to look into why the Kaminoans made you.”

“Deal!”

Jaing felt accomplished as he shook Tech’s hand, the unsettled feeling slinking to the back of his mind as the topic of conversation drifted to what was being offered in the mess. Later he’d tell Kal about his worrying discovery, would tell his father about this odd clone he’d met, but for now all he cared about was this blooming friendship with a like minded soul.

#republic commando #repcomm #the bad batch #Jaing Skirata #tbb tech #star wars fanfiction #fanfic #'what if' drabble

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