#Take down this dictatorship

[thefangirlofhp]

“Here is another truth: when Elain looked down at her sister’s corpse, it felt like the world was empty of air, all of a sudden, and all this negative pressure was making her lungs collapse. 

Graysen would come to claim that his sweet lovely fiancé seemed to die right there in that morgue, standing next to her sister’s body. That Elain was never seen again, following that. 

It is painfully the opposite, in fact. Elain is very much there, no matter how much wishing otherwise would relieve this devastation off her. She is trying to catch a breath, a single one, but the world is a vacuum, outer space, and there is no oxygen for her to take. Elain tries to move beyond that moment in time when Nesta popped the boundaries of the universe—of Elain’s universe—but it is virtually impossible. The only thing that seems to alleviate that, in the slightest way, is the line of reason. Of the what’s, the why’s and the how’s. The who’s, most importantly. The who is what allows Elain the barest supply of air, lets her stare at the ceiling of her room at night until she can fall asleep.”

-?, a spyXcriminal spymaster thing I may invest more time in. 

#help lads it looks like another yvia-like work is taking place #in the sense it is poetic and very feeling-y #but sadly it does not mean my mind is not cooking up every single world-building detail down to the color of traditional clothing #and the government formation and how politics are set up #i need to go touch grass #writing about councils and senators and republics and the system of democracy and the mafia power along with the patriarchy and dictatorship #all for another silly little fic

[legionofpotatoes]

incredibly close to adding an unpleasant wrinkle to my views on asylum seekers

#looking at rows and rows and rows and rows and rows. and rows. of them at our borders #we're barely a speck of a country. they are just bleeding down here. and far be it for me to discount good people fleeing oppression but uh #as opposed to say the US #I can in fact go outside here and get an adequate sample of the type of goodwill they're bringing #the 3% of my empathy that I can spare for them I openly give to those who stood and bled on the streets but that is my limit #I cannot just pretend that pacifist ethical frameworks apply to wartime. pre and post? I'll be the foremost champion #but in the here and now? nah. the empire needs to be dees-troyed :) and I hope it happens before it takes too many foreign roots #is all I'm gonna say. I would LOVE to be wrong about my gut feeling. I know how insipid and subtle nationalist sentiment is #I'll try to keep a level head. but if I start seeing those Z stickers taking over our pedestrian spaces I will mince no words anymore #again; i know what the kind and moral response is. but we are a speck. less than a percent of their population. and we border them DIRECTLY #I don't know how to deal with anything anymore. I guess the confusion is part of the point. I hate war more than anything #and the thing I hate most about it is that you can really only be against it preventatively. once it happens you either participate #or you are eaten alive. i wish all dictatorships a very fucking die #text #negativity

[seekerstone]

#🔪 i want to do this thing so bad don’t u dare take it away from me #i gave the option because this isn’t a dictatorship but i will hunt you down and i will find you if you vote no #the moon speaks

[aplaceforstellasscribbles]

Y'know, the plot of WATW relies heavily- you could say is constructed entirely- on the idea that everyone wants to see themself as a good person. No one is the villain of their own story.

Which can be super interesting when writing an unambiguously "evil" character, seeing how they justify and twist things around to frame their actions as morally correct.

It's also interesting when writing a character that isn't unambiguously "evil" or "good." When this person isn't deceiving themself into thinking their actions are good, when they're doing what they were taught is right, when they feel good about what they're doing- they think they're a good person because of course they are, look at all the good things they're doing, look at how kind and generous and thoughtful they are!

And then, maybe, you show them that their actions weren't as universally good as they thought they were, you show them that they hurt people.

What do they do then? How do they move forward from there?

#walk against the wind #watw #stella's story #some people would double down and insist they were right all along no matter the consequences #and others would take the new information and change based on it #i think that's the difference between someone who is good and someone who only wants to be #i just. i'm so fascinated by this concept #it did start out as me just trying to get into my antagonist's head- how would someone justify doing these things? #and then i wanted to figure out how to redeem him #and somehow i stumbled upon this and now it's incredibly important to me #not just in my story either #i started with a character that could at best be described as a selfish asshole with few redeeming qualities #and now i have a character i can easily describe as a man who's ignorant but doing his best. yes he's hurt people but he's a good man #and that's so important to me. that he's a good man. needs a little guidance. needs a little forgiveness. but he's good #in context it doesn't fit but i'm thinking of this one lyric from a taylor swift song #'no one teaches you what to do when a good man hurts you' #we've been taught that if someone hurts you they must be bad. they must be evil #but good people hurt each other all the time. how do we live with that? how do we reconcile that? #that's part of what watw is about #y'know between the blatant anti-monarchy anti-dictatorship anti-military anti-imperialism stuff #and next to the complex family relationships and rejection of amatonormativity

[magentagalaxies]

E

hopefully the ask box is back now!!

ok so I haven't had an OC with a name starting with E in years but i remember enough about the fantasy novel i tried to write in 5th grade to bring one of those blorbos back for this post!!

so basically this oc was named ezra. he was one of the main characters of this fantasy book i tried to write at age 11 about a group of friends at a magic school who accidentally steal a dragon egg (only one of them realized it was a dragon egg at first until it was too late) and that act ends up setting off a political revolution which these kids are thrust into being the leaders of despite literally being in middle school/high school by the end of the planned series (note: i only ever wrote one draft of the first book bc i do not have the worldbuilding patience to write a fantasy series).

ezra was the last of the six main characters introduced. he wasn't part of the original friend group but he just kind of got dragged into everything bc he accidentally walked into a meeting while delivering groceries for DoorDash (note: doordash hadn't been invented yet when i wrote this story so i invented the concept of course) and the protagonists were like "ah shit he's seen too much i guess he's in the group now." he was generally an aloof comic relief character who thought he was too cool for this but eventually it's revealed he's the nephew of the empress who's the main villain of the series and he's a loner bc he's the only one in his family that didn't want to follow in her footsteps or something.

his counterpart was a character named phoenix who had a similar comedic daredevil type personality and they'd get on each other's nerves constantly while also always committing to the bit. also phoenix had some trauma of her own so they bonded over weird family stuff. but they main thing that pairs them together is in this universe everyone can do general magic but some people are like genetically born with other powers (don't ask how i never did any detailed worldbuilding) and phoenix is very up front with the fact that she's able to turn invisible and she uses it for mischief all the time, but it's not until the end of the first book that we learn ezra's secretly had the power to detect the presence of invisible people/objects/forces/ghosts/etc. phoenix is pissed off but mostly bc aw damn that means he's been faking his reactions to her pranks the entire time.

anyway initially i planned on having phoenix and ezra become a couple at the end of the series but now even tho there's no chance of me returning to this project i do have a Revised Version that exists only in my imagination where i changed some original plot details and one of them is that they date briefly but then phoenix figures out she's a nonbinary lesbian and she and ezra are just like platonic soulmates. tbh i think that dynamic kind of went into hunter and lillly tho so even if ezra unfortunately is a blorbo from my brains that's gonna stay forever in my brains at least his descendent hunter is gonna someday be a blorbo from your shows. thank you.

send me a letter and i'll tell you about an oc!

#send me asks #blorbo from my brains #hadn't thought about ezra in a While tbh #ngl it's fun having a story i wrote when i was younger that i still mentally work on but never want to actually write #bc i can take elements i thought made sense as a kid that were actually major plotholes and expand on them #without having to get bogged down in making the story itself make sense #like when i was writing this at age 10 and 11 i made all the main characters my age (ezra was a bit older like 13 or 14 i think) #but he had a younger sister who was like an apprentice to the main villain who was like only 9 years old #bc i wanted her to be younger than the main characters and when you're 10 you're like yeah that makes sense #but now the version of this story i have in my head is more about Hey Isn't It Fucked Up That This Political Conflict Is Using Children #to the point where a 9-year-old is helping lead a fascist dictatorship??? #and then in the last ''book'' of my imagination this character is in her mid teens and realizes how fucked up this indoctrination is #and we see her try to repent for the role she played in destroying so many lives while also being like i was just a kid #and unlearning everything she was conditioned to think and acknowledging they took advantage of her

[probablyasocialecologist]

A unique mechanism of Israeli apartheid, one that didn’t exist even in South Africa’s apartheid system, is that in the West Bank, there are two parallel legal systems in place: one for Palestinians and one for Jewish settlers. When accused of identical offenses—even if they took place in exactly the same location, at the same time, and under the same exact circumstances—I will be prosecuted and tried in Israel’s criminal legal system, while my Palestinian comrades will face the Israeli state’s system of military law, which reflects the reality of a full-on military dictatorship. To apprehend Palestinians, the government will send its armed forces, which will often detain them in the middle of the night, violently, at gunpoint. It will take up to 96 hours before they see a judge (24 hours for me), and even when they finally do, that judge will be a soldier in uniform, just like the prosecutor. They will be tried according to Israel’s draconian military law, likely be denied bail, and their sentence will be handed down after conviction in a system in which not even one person out of 400 is acquitted.

“A Nuclear Superpower and a Dispossessed People”: An Anarchist from Jaffa on the Violence in Palestine and Israeli Repression

#israel #palestine #apartheid

[iznsfw]

Manic Robotic Dream Girl

IZ Days of Christmas 2023: Day 4 - Choi Yena

IZ*ONE's Choi Yena x Male Reader Smut

8,311 words

Neon lights dance like flames around you. There’s no need to touch them when you’re already burning. Burning with something that’s not a fever but a kind of pain that never goes away. 

Sweat pricks the sides of your face and you’re aware of the blots of perspiration running down your jawline. Nights at the Rogue are often hot, but then they surprise you with a sudden burst of windiness, so you never bother to take your coat off. Whatever and wherever, you’ll always be here yet you’ve not once been able to predict the temperature.

That’s what happened when WAKE12 took over. 

Apparently, they decide if people are under the weather by controlling it by them-fucking-selves. Kwon feeling shitty? Looks like rain then. Maybe she’s feeling happy? Alright, let the clouds find balance. Angry? Take a fucking hailstorm. What a privilege, one bigger than the lives of the rich men in the North. But everyone forgets about that fact after she sends out minimal alms—canned goods, a Bible, something. Then it’s back to President Kwon is the best! President Kwon can never fail us! President—

“Vodka.”

“Same as yesterday?” asks Yuri, smiling a little bit. 

“Same as yesterday.” For a hologram, Yuri can be quite the social butterfly. 

Online wallets are all the rage nowadays. The AI voice in your head offers you said option to pay, and you can hear your balance privately spoken. Somehow your brow prevents from creasing as you hear it. You lack funds but somehow have a few extra bucks to drink. 

Choose that. You want to save your Wizes for other things. Lock eyes with Yuri and your balance goes down. You’ve paid. 

Online and digital wallets modified with embedded signals and readers were in use before you were even born. Of course, there were already such payment options in the twenty-first century, but how WAKE12 changed everything, not just ordering options with telepathic payment, can easily be read in a sixth grade history textbook. 

In October of the year 2918, Kwon Eunbi rose in the ranks as a scientist and soldier for Kang Hyewon, former president, and ended up working her way into dictatorship. The textbooks and classrooms teach that she proposed a law to the court and got herself a position for her wit and intelligence. But early first accounts challenge that, saying that she caught the eye of Kang and had a sexual relationship with her. WAKE12 branded this as propaganda that sullies the name of not only the dictator but the one of the late president, who died mysteriously before Kwon rose to power.

Massive backstory for cashless payment, but you know there’s more to it than the government would like to let on. What happened to Kang? What made Kwon so evil the moment she sat in her presidential throne?

“Thank you, sir.” Holograms all have different voices; Yuri’s sounds like she’s singing. At least the bartender slash boss hired her instead of those with monotone, emotionless ones. It’s cheaper to have hologram workers than humans anyway. Less money, less emotional labor, less of feeling like a normal person.

A beggar curled up below the counter holds his hand out. Not an uncommon sight in the Auster, but it’s a pity to see. The world has advanced with its telepathic wallets and 3D holograms yet there will always be individuals who haven’t caught up with time. While the North Rogue leads worldly lifetimes, the Auster is a home for the rejects. The poorest of the poor. The somewhere-in-the-middles. It can never be truly a perfect world if advancement doesn’t include everyone.

Give him a Wize. Back then, that would have been worth a hundred or so dollars, a currency long gone. Not that you’d know of it; WAKE12 claimed leadership way before you were born so the cheap value of the coin studded with the bust of Kwon Eunbi is all you’re accustomed to. 

Take your drink and thank Yuri. 

The cobblestone is rough beneath your feet. You take your seat at your usual table. Float your fingers around your shotglass. Pour the contents down your chapped mouth almost all in one go. Anything to feel something. Anything to feel anything. 

You’re not an alcoholic by any means, though that’s certainly up for debate. But there’s a need for the liquid that rages more than the need for oxygen (the fucking shortage of it) or food (the fucking expense of it). How else could you be less numb? You’re welcome to every feeling at this stage, just not this empty neutrality that slumbers your senses.

Pain? Your throat seizes up when you drink and brings tears to your eyes, so there's that. 

Happiness? Hm, none. You’re barely smiling. You’ve no family, little friends, and no partner for the last few years. There’s nothing to be happy about.

Anger? The displays of people fined harshly for their crimes on the big as life advertising screens stir some defiance in you. WAKE12 doesn’t take kindly to hacktivists and young coders dabbling in creating their own AIs. You have your own anti-government opinions, but what’s a human mind against an artificial one? Plus, and probably a less serious reason (tell that to the thousands who flock to the hospitals because of asthma), the air is almost always polluted here in the Rogue. It’s dirtied by car smoke and factory remains. You’d think that robots taking over the labs would improve it. Perhaps they weren’t programmed that way. 

Loneliness?

You look around. See the glitching phantoms of new world technology make the drinks breezily. Watch the light-studded train filled with commuters from the Auster. Kwon Eunbi managed to build an underside track for additional trains to run and still the commuters—young students, old grandparents, not young but not old workers whose jobs belong to WAKE12—wear the same tired look you saw yesterday. All you could hear are buzzes and uncanny valley voices from holograms.

The second chair paired with your table is empty. You’re suddenly lucid to the fact that it’ll always be like this. These nights of drinking and walking in the Auster Rogue will be endless, and just the same, you’ll be endlessly alone.

Sometimes mortality could be so depressing.

So depressing that it makes it all so meaningless.

A man stumbles over to the outside bar, breaking your thoughtless reverie. His clothes are as black as the night you spend but you can see blood on the fabric. The skyscrapers provide enough light for you to see his red face from anxious internal and worrying external blood. The pleading look grips his expression like a malfunctioning robot’s limb. 

He’s looking back as if afraid of what might be there. The rain-soaked road is tread on roughly by his shaking knees as he crawls his way to the bar. “Please, help me!”

“Warning,” comes the voice in your head, and you know the other visitors hear it, too, “a criminal of the state is in your proximity. Proceed with caution.”

WAKE12 always keeps an eye on those who threaten them. They have goons everywhere. The kindly grandfather down the street could be a veteran waiting for the chance of a medal. They have ears everywhere as well. Undercover cops stay in both crowded and clear spaces to identify possible threats. When it all comes down to it, you’re not safe in your own head at all. The implants can detect when you dream up something terrible. That’s how millions lose their reputation. Their jobs. Their families.

Their lives.

He staggers to the counter, crashing glass that shards his palms, and lets out this wail you’d hear from an abused pup. “Please,” he croaks. “Don’t listen to them. I just need somewhere to hide. I did nothing wrong, nothing!”

The implanted voice in your brain says otherwise. Everyone was given one when the Cyber Age came. That’s what makes a tiny difference in seeing who’s human and who’s not: the tiny, diamond scar below their hairline from the operation. Close inspection can’t always be done, however. Nowadays, too many of these robots and holograms pass the Turing test. You can never truly trust someone.

“Offenses include: playing the role of an accomplice in theft of government data, distribution of terrorist propaganda—”

“Get the fuck out!” says the bartender, having burst out from the back. As a longtime visitor, you haven’t seen him this angry, but you know it stems from fear. No one wants to associate with a criminal. No one wants the association to lead to arrest and the arrest lead to god knows what. Hundreds of people go missing after they’re taken under custody. What Kwon does to them, you don’t know. “Leave or I’ll call the cops!”

Like you said, they lurk everywhere. You’re surprised they haven’t caught up to him.

The bloodied man shakes his head, like please, please, someone believe me. “No, I’m not a criminal! Listen to me, please, I don’t have enough time! They just wanna—cut down” 

Rapid footsteps. Sigh and put your glass down. There they are.

The man reaches for him, but the bartender shoves the whole table into his face. He falls back on the ground and cries out for help that never comes. Men and women wearing tight black uniforms and vests pull him up. Their lit helmets that opposingly disallow a view of their faces make them look emotionless. Like robots.

Huh.

While resting your head against the metal chair, you listen to the struggling shuffles of the police and criminal, and see the glitching robots walking down the road. No real emotion, no real living.

He scratches and screams and sobs, but that doesn’t matter to them. They pull him along the rocky cement and recite his nonexistent rights to him. There’s the right to remain silent (he’s screaming), the right to an attorney (nobody in the Auster can afford a good lawyer much less an honest one), and the right to live freely if found innocent of the crime (someone getting convicted happens more often than being released).

Besides, it can’t be called living when it’s in a place so completely devoid of any humanity.

“In more ways than one,” you say. Fuck it, you’ll drink to that.

-

Like always, you take more than you should. You believe by now you’ve built some kind of immunity. That’s what they all think, you remind yourself, before an inevitable death that buries them in the ground one bricked shot at a time. You swear you’re not dizzy at all or feeling the acid build to your throat, so the sight gathering just a little away from you is real. 

Stare at your glass. Space out if not for what you see: behind it, a shapely form of a woman in purple. The blue and violet lights make it difficult for you to distinguish it from her clothes so she actually looks naked. That shocks you more than the arrest. You’re sure she’s got a little modesty in her because why else is she making her way to a table?

Your table?

It’s like she teleported when she’s suddenly seated before you, filling the chair that’s been empty for the last more or so years. You don’t even get the chance to look up at the right time, but the moment you do, you think keeping your eyes on your glass would’ve been better for the sake of your heart.

YENA.

Her name appears in your mind and she hasn’t even introduced herself. But it’s right there, emblazoned in lights in all capitalized four letters: YENA. This girl is Yena. And this girl—this fucking guilty pleasure of a girl—is gorgeous.

The ends of her hair are tinged with blonde, and it’s hard not to give attention to that with how her locks are gathered into twin tails. She smoothes them before looking at you quite seriously, like she’s about to propose a challenge you’d lose.

Blue shining eyes. There’s something odd about the way they twinkle below her bangs—almost like something not human. 

Yena dances her fingers around her jawline, elbow resting on the table, and tilts her pretty face. Lets her fingers play with her lips that are made for things the Auster’s known for providing (she can’t be from here though; those crocheted coordinates look costly). That’s how you notice that fine feature. Naturally thick and casually jutted out in a distinctive pout, your eyes are glued to them. Can’t take your prolonged stare away if someone helped you. 

“Are you waiting for me to start talking?” Yena asks. She’s not angry, just amused—her voice is smooth and clear, with a tiny pitch that makes her all the more cute. 

You shake your head. “Was just trying to figure something out.” 

“And that is?”

“A lot of things,” you state. Things you’d keep a secret forever, lest you spill them out to a girl all for the payment of being beautiful. “But I’m not sure pretty girls like you would want to know.”

You try to keep your curious peering at her normal, but it’s difficult when she just attracts attention. She’s a glowing lightbulb in a flutter of moths. Yena doesn’t flicker weakly; she shines, and it’s honestly why everyone else is “subtly” looking at her, this gorgeous stranger who came in and somehow chose the alcoholic who came from places more rock bottom than the Auster.

She laughs. It’s sobering—you think you’ll get drunk on her rather than the cheap alcohol. “Is that what you think of me? Too beautiful to think too much?” 

Look her up and down. Yeah, you want to say, that’s about it. It’s not out of offense but rather the instinct in you that wants to tell her you don’t want to put her in a worried state. She’s too… ah, she doesn’t know what you’d do for a girl like her—someone too unreal to be human but too genuine to be the “living” dolls lonely men purchase. Someone who can keep a conversation going without fearing a low blow. Someone who’s out of your league in the Rogue’s mixed pool but chooses you anyway.

“I’m just saying you might not want to hear a stranger boring you with his hard problems.”

“Oh please,” she says, waving it off with a flick of a pointed wrist. “You know my name. I know yours. We’re not strangers anymore.”

How did you—how did she—

Her eyes twinkle again. They’re… violet? You could have bet they were blue. But then you see the suspiciously smooth and clear skin, with the perfect lines of her eyelids, which curve as if manufactured in. She’s definitely not human. 

“Besides,” adds Yena sweetly, “you’re really underestimating how good I can take certain hard things.”

Swallow. You opened the door, now you’re locked in. 

Yena catches the bob of your Adam’s apple and smirks. Traces her fingers over yours. She can’t be human for sure yet you feel the softness of her hand, the only thing giving you doubt being how chilled her touch is. It's humid here, so where did that come from? Goosebumps pop up in masses across your skin—note how nothing shows up on hers.

Maybe she’s just a confident woman.

“Come on, I dare you.” 

“Only if you go first.” 

“Yes, sir,” she says. A cutesy saluted hand positions itself before her temple. Her hands are tiny, could be dainty, while her cheeks lift to support an adorable smile. 

Your knees tremble. You don’t know where that came from either. Yena just knows what to say to get to a guy. Almost like she was made for it. There’s that question again, resurfacing in your altered brain: is she human or not?

You lean back. Cross your arms. Here you go, on your way to find out. “What’s your story?” 

Yena shrugs, her shoulders bare and smooth. And you’re thinking of how you’d like to see the rest of them, the rest of her body naked by pulling down the crocheted strap of the purple coordinates. How you’d like to touch those puffed up cheeks and not care if they’re real or not when you pull her close to kiss her. How those lips—

“Don’t have one.”

“Sorry?”

She laughs. Even the way she giggles is attractive.  “No, seriously,” she replies, licking her lips. “There’s nothing interesting about me. I’m the most normal girl there is.”

There is nothing normal about her. Everything she says is too prepared. The largeness of her eyes gives everything away. Her hair is combed too finely that you’re not unconvinced that it isn't human hair at all, though you can see them connect at the roots. It’s like someone drew a cute animated girl on a notepad one lonely night, sent the idea to a rich bastard, and brought her to life.

So no, you’re not buying it.

“So you’re saying you’re just a blank canvas.”

“If you put it like that, I guess.” Yena rolls her eyes. You’re a bit obsessed. “Guys want that, right? A blank piece of a girl they could shoot more than a shot at? Maybe paint her white?”

You’re thankful you didn’t continue drinking. Otherwise, your surprise would be visible and audible with the lodge of your throat as you wineboard yourself.

The side of her mouth raises. A soft dimple exceeding cuteness—it’s deeper, brighter, shinier. You imagine her as a college student, charming boys into submission just with a wink and a smile that can melt hearts and bring guilt to lust-addled minds. 

That’s what she’s doing: Yena is melting you because of how adorable she is, but then you take a look at her body, note the fine curves it boasts, and feel the need to go to a confessional pastor. You’re not supposed to repeats in your mind, but you’re you—if you aren’t supposed to do it, then of course you’ll do it anyway.

“Woah,” you say with a nervous laugh. “Woah.”

“Look.” She rests her forearm on the table and talks so casually one would think she weren’t just talking about getting cumshots. “I‘m not taking that back, so do with that what you will.”

Under the table, behind the scenes, her leg is curled around one of yours. Her ankle glides along your skin teasingly. Not a speck of hair on all of those flawless legs, but you’re shivering anyway from the contact. Hence, make a show of closing your coat around yourself. You can’t fool her when it’s not even chilly.

Recover, piecing together the brokenness of your confidence she tore apart.

“My story is, uh, weird.”

“Tell me.”

“This might be too personal but—” You lift your shoulders awkwardly. “I used to date a girl who looks exactly like you.”

Kim Chaewon—short auburn hair, soft cheeks, and a tiny figure. She’s a memory you didn’t think of returning to today, but then Yena came here, and now you’re back to your youth.

“She was a cop. Cutest officer I’ve ever seen, but a real bitch, for the lack of a better word. Then she left me.”

“You broke her heart, didn’t you?” 

Sputter. “No!” you immediately deny, shaking your head. “I—I didn’t hurt her, she was—”

A filthy lie. You became nonchalant, undeserving of a sweet woman who’d do anything for you, even give up her well-paying job. Again and again, Chaewon expressed her concerns: why were you talking to Minju? Where have you been? Why are you so mean? You disregarded them all the same. She deserved the ignorance; she was too fucking controlling, too fucking jealous.

Yena knows you’re lying. It’s like you’re a wound she can peel back to see all the ugliness, all the damage underneath. Her smile tells you everything.

“Oh, come on. I don’t care. Except for this.” Yena intertwines her fingers. Rests her chin on top of the formed platform. “Was she a good fuck?”

Your laugh is forced, trying to make a good deal out of this situation. A girl is flirting with you right after you saw someone disappear. Now you’re wondering if she’s a robot. Now, through some way, she knows you’re lying about your ex. Coincidences meet yet you refuse to connect them—parallel lines they shall stay, forever. 

“Yena, what exactly is up with you?” you ask. “You just met me. And come on now, why me?”

It’s begun to be hotter in this space. Loosen your coat. Perspiration isn’t because of the atmosphere, so you find out (and what a surprise). It’s because of the woman across you, a midnight sun. If the painful sun was actually a symbol of good in the Rogue, Yena would play its role perfectly. She’d scorch through you and you’ll enjoy every second. Yeah, you’d get all sorts of tans and burns and cancers if you bask in her without protection, but my god, are you willing to take the risk.

“I just don’t like seeing pretty boys have problems,” she replies easily. “If they want, (and I know they do), I’ll take them all away. Soon, all you'll think of is me. Like I’m the sun peeking in your room and you just can’t get enough sleep because of it.”

You tense up. Millions of questions, a void empty of answers. Once again, how was she so spot on? You’re not breathing quite well, and your clothes are tighter tonight. “Yena, look, I-I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be.”

Don’t be, not because you aren't, but because she said so.

She pouts. “You’re not gonna buy me a drink?”

“You sound disappointed.”

“Nope. Remember what I said? I’m a blank canvas. So do whatever you want with me. Buy me a drink. Or not. Tell me to fuck off. Or not. Force me on my knees.”

Yena kneels.

There’s no mantle on the table to cover up what she’s about to do. You gasp, then try to mask it as a poor cough, but you’re distracted by how she pulls your pants down effortlessly. The button sealing your coat is busted open and gone.

So is your dignity.

Yena’s tongue sticks out at the side of her mouth as she looks up at you with excitement and mischief in her eyes. 

“Or let me do the job. I’m a big girl after all.”

She seals her teeth around your zipper and tugs down. It’s embarrassing how hard you are for her. But Yena doesn’t care. Adoration is clear on her face as she stares at your shaft, the worshipful energy in her eyes so overwhelming that she has to do something about it.

“Yena—” What a way to go out: screaming a stranger’s name.

You knew those lips were up to no good the moment you saw them. She’s provided evidence, too. Her soft lips embrace your boner and suckle fervently while dragging themselves upwards. It’s a caress that tenses you up rather than comforts you. It works you up, tying you down with the little weight Yena has. You could kick her away right now and tell her to go away. File a case against her. 

You don’t.

The joined duo of careful teeth and wild tongue gets you whimpering. Shivering. Begging. How is she so good at this?

Her mouth is perfectly wet. It’s not copiously soaked to have you cringing but the perfect balance of wet and ready, coating your rod again and again. She gives you too much and just right. It would be a cruel violation if you were asked to choose one and only one.

“Baby, what the fuck—” you stammer. 

Her throat’s an expert in taking you because one push of her lips to your base welcomes you in its tight hole. Your knees shake; Yena places her hands on it, not to stop their trembles but for leverage during the dip of her head. 

Close your eyes, look up, and stare at skies that provide no reprieving stars. Think of how she’s infinitely bett—

“Better than any pussy, huh?” Yena asks. The third time is no coincidence, so you’ve heard. “And it’s just my throat.”

At this stage, you don’t care if she’s a robot or not, because either way, that mouth is a fucking treasure.

You lift your hips and start slowly working yourself in Yena’s face. Her lips pucker and pout to allow you inside with pleasurable friction. Those eyes—there aren’t any planets in the sky because of the pollution but you think you can see their sparkle in them. 

The amazing part is that Yena doesn’t choke. She endlessly takes you in, receiving every inch like a blessed gift, but you don’t hear her wheeze. No sounds of complaints escape her. You have a feeling it’s not because of your cock sliding in and out of it. She only gags on occasion, and those already sound fake. It’s like she’s doing it just so you can get worked up hearing her moans.

While others might be impressed, you’re dumbfounded. She tightens and loosens and pushes and pulls just for your pleasure. 

“Yena, I– you’re doing so good,” you compliment her in gasped breaths.

Her cheeks hollow. The suction strengthens and it now feels like your soul’s being swallowed down her neck. She knows how to tease you with light pandering from her teeth, generous licking, and strengthened swallowing. Her mouth is warm but you are more so. She’s making you feel hot in all these layers, an additional one played by her perfect lips.

Perfect hair, too, you note.

Hungry impulses take over your body and now you’re pumping your core into the girl’s face with the help of her pigtails. Yena’s hair is thick and silky, and it’s another enjoyable factor: feeling how it slips between your fingers and how each pull directs her lips to press firmly to your crotch.

She doesn’t gag with that either. She must have had a lot of experience; she did say she can take hard things fine. That is, if she were human. If not, whoever built her had dirty ideas: the lack of gag reflex surely brings in the five star ratings.

Bright star-like eyes, cute ruinable face, mouth that can take the largest.

Yep, perfect.

“Good—fucking—girl.”

Your cock weeps white. Yena feels the first drop and immediately pulls away. She pumps your shaft with a strong, urgent fist. As she hinted, you blast all over her face. Your orgasm grips you and shakes you like never before, and of course, the little brat enjoys it. She’s nearly laughing.

“There,” says Yena after she drains you. Her duck-like lips are sticky with cum. “Canvas painted.”

What a pretty painting you’ve made. Here, shown to the public, is the manic pixie dream girl, semen on her chin to symbolize how each word she utters has you climaxing; hair disheveled to show your subtle but messy rule over her, because you own her although you weren’t there when her mechanical limbs were assembled and her face drawn; and a smile on her face to show that despite all this: she likes it.

You laugh, short blunt breaths wisping in the air. “There really is something wrong with you, Yena,” you say.

She’s a girl who’s extremely pretty, good at blowjobs, and likes public sex and oral. She can also read minds. Oh, and she might not be real. 

“You could say that again.” She wipes her mouth. “Though I do think I could use a little fixing from you.”

-

You take her home. Your mother would have been disappointed in you if she knew you violated the first law you were ever taught: don’t talk to strangers. Most of all, don’t ever let them in. But Yena is no stranger—like she said, she knows your name and for some reason, you know her own. You’re not strangers. And your mother isn’t around to command you not to kneel for a pretty girl.

This home of yours isn’t fancy, but if people from 2024 saw it, they’d be mesmerized. You’re not rich enough to afford the penthouses the North offers; this one is alright for you. The stories of the building aren’t aligned with each other, separating a few yards with floating floors that defy gravity. That’s right; WAKE12 somehow found a way to disobey the rules of physics. The ends are lit up with bright lights that blind you from miles away. Wide windows encircle the areas along with al frescos and convenient malls. Back then, this would have been classified as the house of the wealthy—you can’t say you agree with the sentiment when you’re not at all rich.

“Hi,” says Yena brightly at the front desk. She’s so smiley, always grinning like she’s just told a really clever joke. “Where’s the elevator?”

“I, uh…” 

The manager looks at her oddly. Your ears redden; she still hasn’t cleaned her face up. Evidence of your deed lies there on her nose and chin and cheeks, even in her perfect hair. 

“Well?”

The manager lifts the phone immediately. Before he could dial a number, Yena sighs loudly. 

“Look.” She silences the telephone with a slam of the device down on the keypad. The man’s hand cringes. “I’m about to fuck this guy’s brains out and I promise your little backup bosses can’t do anything about it.”

He stares at her. 

“I’m gonna use his dick until it’s limp as a balloon, then ride him in bed, then bend over on the kitchen table so he could breed me like a common whore.”

You lift an index finger to apologize, but put it back down. Did she just say you can breed her?

His jaw tenses. The teeth behind those unsmiling thin lips grit, not in annoyance but in fear. Yena’s bouncy and sweet, but apparently she’s excluding people who cockblock from her cute attitude.

“So,” finishes Yena, lowering her gaze, “where is the fucking elevator?”

The elevator has no pulley or doors. It sits at the side of the uneven floors and rises with nothing but a sizable pod. You’ve had to watch your weight to be able to enjoy the freedom from staircases. 

Yena steps on it with no worry. As you look at her, you realize how positively tiny she is. That’s why she isn’t doubtful about fitting in the claustrophobic space. Her violet clothes can slip off at any time at her pull of a waist and slim thighs. All the fullness goes to her cheeks, painted with fake tattooed stars and minimal doodles. 

She’s the kind of girl you could just pick up and do whatever to. You’re the kind of guy who really, really likes the idea.

Holding your hand is a thing of the past. Yena clutches your cock over your jeans as the elevator lifts the two of you up. 

The first thing she does the moment you enter your home is not kiss you, or slam you to the door, or whisper dirty nothings in the hollow of your ear. Yena looks around and says, simply, “Doable.”

You chuckle. You’re not offended. It’s a tidy, minimal apartment with glass that spans a viewing pleasure of the artificial forest and the hills. Glass lost its value but skyrocketed in purchases when Jo Yuri, first activist recorded in the history of WAKE12’s domination, was imprisoned. People compared her name to glass (yuri was 유리 and 유리 meant glass) and since then, it has been used everywhere. High demand, low price. Her symbol and namesake is used the way the public wants her to be used: cheap thing convenient only to the eye. They always said she was too pretty to talk too much.

“Here, doable is the best compliment,” you reply. You go to your bedroom to clean the place. If you want to fuck a rich girl, make sure the bedroom is at least up to her standards. “You have personal maids there in the North?”

Yena continues looking around. She’s mildly fascinated by everything, especially in the big window placed on the ceiling that lets stars peer down at you. For some reason, all the ejaculation on her face is gone. You don’t remember her bringing a washcloth.

“I’m not from the North, you know.”

“You’re not?”

“Nope. I don’t come from anywhere.”

You come out, having cleared your bed from clothes and the floors of trash. You fed the trash to the connected chute that all apartments have, which leads down to the Southern Auster. The word may be Latin and is already defined as south, but there’s places poorer than the part you live in. You’re lucky to be here. The Southern Auster’s where it’s much more dangerous. The people there scavenge for food and money, and their cries go unheard in the night. It’s the biggest criminal capital of the Rogue.

You come out and Yena’s sitting on the kitchen table with a knife.

Stop in your tracks. 

See the blood running down her arm. 

“Oh, don’t worry,” she says dismissively. “It doesn’t hurt.”

You still don’t know what to say. The wound on her skin’s dissolved to a scar that looks more like a scratch on metal. Why would she do that? Why would that do that?

“In fact, I think it’s kind of cool.” Yena slides the blade on the strap of her top. It falls apart, right down to her braless chest. A pink, perky nipple is clear in the moonlight shining from above. “When people see me, they usually want to hurt me, so I might as well do it myself, right? They want to slap me, pull my hair, choke me. They say that and figure I’m totally flattered.”

You want to say that you couldn’t blame them. Yena’s got this innocent but naughty aura about her that you want to completely ruin. There’s her hair, all dolled up and her quirky makeup that brings attention that eventually switches down to the body she doesn’t bother hiding. 

But it looks like she’s doing the ruining. Aren’t those the best stories? Boy corrupts girl when it’s the other way around in reality? 

To use the word “reality” when you’re with Yena is laughable. She can read your mind like a Rogue Times newspaper. You get that things you thought were impossible have a chance of happening in these days, but you don’t remember wounds healing that fast. The knife slices right through the fabric, revealing swoon-worthy curves of her waist and hips, making her bleed only not for too long. Who would want a scar-ridden skinny girl anyway?

“Well,” you say after a dutiful swallow, “are you?”

Yena examines the knife. Her crimson blood dripping from its edge is a worthwhile watch while she considers this. 

She finally puts down the knife, much to your relief. “I don’t know. What about you, handsome? Do you want to hurt me or fuck me?”

“I… I’m not like them. I don’t wanna hit you or make you cry or anything. I want to fuck you, that’s completely different.”

First confession of the night that didn’t need saying when it’s clear. You let her blow you in public. You took her home. The intention is staring you in the face: you want to have sex with a girl you just met. 

Yena smiles. “You’d be surprised how blurred the lines are.”

Yena‘s hands fall on your shoulders and make you  fall to the kitchen chair and make your pants fall on the floor. Falling, falling, falling for her—it’s all you’re able to do provided that she’s stunning. She’s tiny with her thin arms and legs but her breasts are surprisingly supple. The cleavage her top subtly shows off hinted to that and you’re still shocked.

She’s a hot desert, and the only source you can drink of is her core. Her pussy is slick, making her thighs glue together only for them to part as she sits on your lap. 

The first grind has you both breathless. The second renders a duet of moans. She’s so wet that it’s excessive enough for her to drip down your cock and completely cover it with her. Yena’s pussy lips splay and clasp your shaft with slippery friction.

She curses. “You’re so hard. Big, t-too.” She aims your cockhead at her clit and sighs at the toe-curling pleasure. “You think you can fit in me?”

“I guess we’ll have to see.”

Yena smirks. She continues soaking you with her wetness. Her juices pour from your head to your balls. Then, without warning, she sheathes your rod inside her. 

You gasp. It’s so easy to slip yourself in and all too difficult to cope with how tight she is. Her walls, perfectly textured and sloppy, trap you and let you out, giving you false hope of escaping, only to imprison you again. It’s the best punishment you ever had. 

Her throat was already better than the other cunts you’ve spent yourself in, so what does that make her pussy?

The best. Her overflowing waterfall lets her ride you easily. It seems like there’s a million spots inside her you can target for she quivers and cries with each bounce. Her hair flows photogenically while her chest does the same erotic motion. 

“So fucking good, fuck,” Yena groans. Her round butt lands on your lap and you think you’d like it to stay there forever. Curl your hands around her cheeks. Draw a healthy moan from the throat you used.

Yena’s pussy curves and opens in every best way. She makes it so easy to mold her into the shape of your cock, to rearrange her insides. Was she made for dick? She’s so wet that you’d think she’s a nymphomaniac who won’t let you go, the same way her vagina won’t let you go as its grip curls around you and threatens to milk you to your wits’ end.

You wouldn’t mind that.

Her riding accelerates to an unbearable point the moment you start to spank her. She’s right about hurting and having sex being almost the same—you want to leave red handprints all over her jiggling ass. You want to pull her hair until she screams. You want to fuck this perfect cunt of hers right up to when she’s creaming all over you, flooding your sexes with her naturla nectar.

And the crazy thing is: she’ll actually let you.

“Fucking brat,” you say, hitting her butt again. She yelps coquettishly. “Are you really this thirsty for cock?”

“God, yes…” Her head throws back. Yena’s eyes shut and although her vision is blocked she sees stars. “Wanted to know how your dick would split me open. Fuck, keep doing that!”

Her core tightens with each blow you expel on her bouncing ass. Her hole’s already so enclosed so when she squeezes more, it’s close to having your cock tortured. You’re suffocating inside her.  You’re waterboarded again and again with her waterfall of wetness. 

You guide Yena’s motions with your hands on her behind. She’s so light that you’re practically using her as a doll, fucking her on your erection and letting yourself enjoy how her tits recoil. Her moans turn on a part of your brain that you don’t know, but it transmits to you these thoughts: fuck her senseless.

You raise her as high as you can, her weight nothing even to your long-untrained muscles, then slam her down. She sinks deeper into your lap and takes longer inches. Yena’s screams bounce off the soundproof walls that ensure only you can hear them. Those walls were fucking expensive, so of course you gotta let them have purpose. Slap Yena’s thighs down on yours and let her pussy envelop you right up to the point of bruises appearing on your skin.

How does she not sweat? Your hands wander all over her tight body and still you don’t find a drop of sweat. Her pigtails are still secured. You guess she was just made to be eternally pretty. 

She is pretty, under any circumstance—her smooth skin possesses zero blemishes and her winged eyes remain lamp-bright. She’s pretty, even when she lets out the pitchiest sounds, even when Yena’s lips rise into a devilish smile before sealing on your neck. She nibbles on your skin and rakes up your sensitivity. 

“Holy shit, Yena…”

“Yeah, that’s right.” She licks behind your ear and you nearly lose it. Maybe you already did. “Say my name. Because I’m all yours. This pussy is yours to use and abuse, so do it.”

Rub her tiny pulsing clit. Yena’s cries deafen you. If that’s not enough, she drowns you with her cum. There’s no raft to save you. You’re all alone. You’ll drown here and never see the light of day again.

Electricity runs through her body as the pleasure ramps up. Her fingers weaken on your shoulders. Her gasps are split off by larger, more surprised evolutions. Yena’s close.

“Fuck, no, I can’t!” Yena’s riding is furious and borderline abusive. The noises between your two crotches are louder than before. 

“You can,” you insist. You throb inside her while her pussy becomes smaller despite the many thrusts you perform. “Take it like a good girl, Yena.”

“Fuck me, use me, I’m just your cute little helpless girl, fuck me!”

She couldn’t be more correct. She’s just a useless doll, thin and adorable and tight—so why not use her like one?

You’re surprised your limbs have any power in them, but they impress as you lift Yena up. During your walk to the counter, you don’t stop thrusting in her. She’s wet and ready, just waiting and begging for it to happen. Her pretty face is smudged with tears. There’s sick satisfaction in you from seeing how the confident girl at the bar is now just a fuckhole to use. 

“Oh, oh, ah!” Cute little whines come out from those lips. Her mouth used its power to pick you up, make you cum, make you scared. In this second, all that is gone: she’ll only ever use it to wail in pleasure.

Knock her against the kitchen counter. Her thighs press to the curve. You spread them open and continue spending yourself to death in her. Her sides that slant to make the physique you love are perfect handles to thrust. 

You’re completely soaked, but she’s completely defiled. The dream girl is not just any dream but a wet dream. She’s the fantasy you never had but will constantly think of now. And you don’t care if WAKE12 knows you’re fucking her. They can read all the thoughts you have about Yena as much as they like, and you wouldn’t care.

Instead of giving a fuck, you twist her around, her smooth back in front of you, and fuck her harder while you’re at it. Admire the way your hips slap her ass and give her the spanking she deserves. One spank, that’s for being so tempting. Another for the price of her promiscuity. Three one-after-the-other’s because she’s too wild, too free for a girl with that face.

“God, please, harder!” Yena cries. “Make me your little cocksleeve cumslut!”

She does not take pain to heart, physically and mentally. In spite of your rapid pumps and the slap of your stomach to her bent and ready ass, no bruises or scratches appear on her skin. You say all these degrading words and rather than mope about it, she gets more turned on. She forces you to give all your might in railing her in this apartment where the open windows give you away rather than the sounds. And you’re nodding along, saying:

“Of course.”

Of course you’ll grab her tits and pinch their nipples as hard as you can. Yena’s skin might not be humanly warm but these boobs are real. They’re soft in your palms and plentiful. Is she a masochist? You tweak and slap and squeeze; in response, she’s… smiling?

Of course you’ll slip your touch all over her body. Appreciate every perfect curve, every fine fullness. After fondling her tits, you slide your hands over her smooth pits, then to her arms that struggle to remain stable. She’s sensitive all over; it’s evident in the way she babbles each time you caress her. 

Of course you’ll take her hair and pull as hard as you can. She won’t get mad. Nothing ever gets to the cool girl.

“Oh my god!” Yena shouts. 

Those pigtails are there for a reason. Thrusts become easier to do with her hair curled in between your digits. Her ass meets your crotch easily and you find yourself excavating her cavern, hitting her in all the good places. Yena hums and screeches and sobs. 

“Bad girl.” Her hair plays the role of your reins. They’re convenient in spreading Yena apart with your shaft, tearing at her tightness. “You’re nothing but a filthy cocksucking slut.”

“M-mhm, yes, just for you, just for this perfect dick, ahh! I’m cumming!” 

Yena’s core flexes and contracts. It holds you like it never wants you to go but you let go anyway. You can do nothing besides that especially if it’s her, someone who’s so cute but so seductive, so challenging but submissive. Each part of her—those blowjob lips, her blooming face, her cockiness—makes you wish this could never end.

The first sign of the end of this pornographic one-reeler is your semen raining inside her, setting a storm in her guts. You pant, legs weak, while Yena’s seem to go on forever although she’s smaller than you.

The second sign is the mess she made. Those aforementioned desirable legs are painted by obscenity. She squirted all over your floor and herself. Your cum coats her vulva plus spills down freely.

Yena looking back at you with a tired smile is the last one, along with her asking, through shattered breaths, “Better than your whore ex?”

Because that’s the thing about girls like Yena. They’ll do everything to please you. Perhaps she’s a good dresser, but really, this is your style, not hers. This type of fashion is what you like on women: modestly revealing. Girls like Yena will give you everything, make you discover yourself, and when all this happens, she’ll remain the thoughtless, forgiving girl. She won’t complain about things that will set you off and say coy, clever things, the kind men like to hear.

All just to be better.

She is.

“Yeah.”

Yena chuckles. For a moment, she looks like the sweetest girl in the world. The happiness overtakes her face and makes her smile reach her ears. 

It disappears as fast as it arrived.

“Wrong fucking answer.”

Alarm sounds of every kind—natural disaster, fire, robbery, whistles—blare in your head. You can’t hear anything except the thin screeches of emergency. But for what?

Yena loses her brightness. Everything that made her shine shuts down. She smiles, that same one full of mischief, before she breaks, too. Her eyes turn pitch black, the ones you see in crows, the sign of bad luck. She disassembles part by part before you. The light girl is suddenly so heavy that she forces you down. Suddenly, her torso above yours feels colder than before. 

What the fuck? 

Escape is your first instinct. You push the remains of the girl away. Your feet kick the broken parts as if you’d break, too. You brush past the fringe of her bangs. Below it, no diamond scar rests on her forehead.

Stare down at her. Yena truly is not real. Your manic robotic dream girl is dead. She was never alive. 

“You have been found guilty,” says the implant. You used to hear it when WAKE12 arrested people and now it talks to arrest you. The alarms are loud but you understand every fragment. 

The implant’s emotionless voice now sounds a lot like—

“Chaewon?” 

Bad luck comes just like the consequences of the law, personified by stilettos clicking on your floor, a shadow in the moonlight, and the face of the woman you swear you never wanted to see again.

And yet here she is.

Chaewon looks so much like Yena. Yena looks so much like Chaewon. Their chins, their eyes, their bangs—who is who? Their faces mingle and mix in your vision. You think you’re going crazy.

She puts away a remote control and places her hands on her hips. Her black bodysuit is all you see as she approaches. Her smiling lips don’t utter a word. You hear her voice, all in your head.

“You have the right to remain silent. Anything and everything you do shall be punished by WAKE12 accordingly. This is the price you pay for your crime.”

There’s a gun in front of you. It’s aimed at your chest, determined to crush what keeps it beating. Raise your hands, but not in surrender. You’ll die before you try to be Chaewon’s toy again.

“What crime? Being your ex-boyfriend?” you spit. This has got to be a joke. “Chaewon, I said, what crime?”

She can’t abuse her authority. She couldn’t have done all that just to get back at you. And for what? Being a bad boyfriend when you were younger and dumber?

You hear her speak. That striking smile looks more terrifying than beautiful. It dissolves into darkness to pronounce your wrongdoing. 

“For the crime of fucking existing,” she snarls.

You hate Chaewon. You swore you never did yet now you do wholeheartedly. You tried to love her and reciprocate her efforts. She’s a busy woman so she should have understood you had other commitments.

This is the last time you ever want to hear from her. 

A bullet you don’t see coming. It soars in the wind and finds its home sweet home in your skull.

She’s the last thing you ever heard.

#kpop smut #smut #kpop fanfic #fanfic #kpop fanfiction #fanfiction #girl group smut #female idol smut #izone smut #soloist smut #choi yena smut #yena smut #izone yena smut #male reader #x reader #reader insert #idol x reader #idol x male reader #kpop x reader #kpop x male reader #pov smut #kofimission #commission #iz days of christmas #iz days of christmas 2023 #iz days of christmas 2023 day 4

[robertreich]

How Trump is Following Hitler's Playbook

You’ve heard Trump’s promise:

TRUMP: I’m going to be a dictator for one day.

History shows there are no “one-day” dictatorships. When democracies fall, they typically fall completely.

In a previous video, I laid out the defining traits of fascism and how MAGA Republicans embody them. But how could Trump — or someone like him — actually turn America into a fascist state? Here’s how in five steps.

Step 1: Use threats of violence to gain power

Hitler and Mussolini relied on their vigilante militias to intimidate voters and local officials. We watched Trump try to do the same in 2020.

TRUMP: Proud Boys, stand back and stand by.

Republican election officials testified to the threats they faced when they refused Trump’s demands to falsify the election results.

RAFFENSPERGER: My email, my cell phone was doxxed.

RUSTY BOWERS: They have had video panel trucks with videos of me proclaiming me to be a pedophile.

GABRIEL STERLING: A 20-something tech in Gwinnett County today has death threats and a noose put out saying he should be hung for treason.

If the next election is close, threats to voters and election officials could be enough to sabotage it.

Step 2: Consolidate power

After taking office, a would-be fascist must turn every arm of government into a tool of the party. One of Hitler’s first steps was to take over the civil service, purging it of non-Nazis.

In October of 2020, Trump issued his own executive order that would have enabled him to fire tens of thousands of civil servants and replace them with MAGA loyalists. He never got to act on it, but he’s now promising to apply it to the entire civil service.

That’s become the centerpiece of something called Project 2025, a presidential agenda assembled by MAGA Republicans, that would, as the AP put it, “dismantle the US government and replace it with Trump’s vision.”

Step 3: Establish a police state

Hitler used the imaginary threat of “the poison of foreign races” to justify taking control of the military and police, placing both under his top general, and granting law-enforcement powers to his civilian militias.

Now Trump is using the same language to claim he needs similar powers to deal with immigrants.

Trump plans to deploy troops within the U.S. to conduct immigration raids and round up what he estimates to be 18 million people who would be placed in mass-detention camps while their fate is decided.

And even though crime is actually down across the nation, Trump is citing an imaginary crime wave to justify sending troops into blue cities and states against the will of governors and mayors.

Trump insiders say he plans to invoke the Insurrection Act to have the military crush civilian protests. We saw a glimpse of that in 2020, when Trump deployed the National Guard against peaceful protesters outside the White House.

And with promises to pardon January 6 criminals and stop prosecutions of right-wing domestic terrorists, Trump would empower groups like the Proud Boys to act as MAGA enforcers.

Step 4: Jail the opposition

In classic dictatorial fashion, Trump is now openly threatening to prosecute his opponents.

TRUMP: if I happen to be president and I see somebody who’s doing well and beating me very badly, I say, ‘Go down and indict them.’ They’d be out of business.

And he’s looking to remake the Justice Department into a tool for his personal vendettas.

TRUMP: As we completely overhaul the federal Department of Justice and FBI, we will also launch sweeping civil rights investigations into Marxist local district attorneys.

In the model of Hitler and Mussolini, Trump describes his opponents as subhuman.

TRUMP: …the radical left thugs that live like vermin within the confines of our country…

Step 5: Undermine the free press

As Hitler well understood, a fascist needs to control the flow of information. Trump has been attacking the press for years.

And he’s threatening to punish news outlets whose coverage he dislikes.

He has helped to reduce trust in the media to such a historic low that his supporters now view him as their most trusted source of information.

Within a democracy, we may often have leaders we don’t like. But we have the power to change them — at the ballot box and through public pressure. Once fascism takes hold, those freedoms are gone and can’t easily be won back.

We must recognize the threat of fascism when it appears, and do everything in our power to stop it.

#youtube #videos #fascism #Donald Trump #election #video #politics

[yourtongzhihazel]

sorry if this is a very idiotic question but how is the existence of private firms in China not antithetical to it being a socialist state. this is seriously in good faith I'm genuinely curious TT

This is a pretty common question, not just when it comes to China, but also to most socialist states, including the USSR at the time.

in short, the transformation of a country's mode of production takes a very long time. The development and maturation of capitalism took hundreds of years and had many stages: mercantilism, primitive accumulation, national competition, global expansion, and finally, imperialism (the highest stage of capitalism). Socialism will also take a long time to mature. Socialism is not a checklist of haves and have nots. Socialism isn't when collectives or cooperatives. Socialism isn't when no billionaires. Socialism most definitely is not when government does stuff or taxes on rich people.

The transition to socialism requires the development of productive forces. The goal of Reform and Opening Up (改革开放, GGKF) was to build up the productive forces which China lacked at the time. While China had a solid heavy industrial and agricultural base, it lacked in other areas. Additionally, thanks to the Sino-Soviet split, China was left largely isolated without much foreign trade. GGKF achieves this by opening the Chinese market to foreign capitalist investment. These foreign investors pour money into China to build factories, ports, infrastructure, assembly plants, etc., etc., in order to take advantage of cheap Chinese labor. The upside of this policy is the rapid accumulation of productive forces. The downside is intensifying internal contradictions (and if you ask my grandpa, the worst thing GGKF did was introducing liberals to China). Billionaires are a symptom of these intensifying internal contradictions.

China is in a nascent, primitive form of socialism: it has a dictatorship of the proletariat lead by a proletarian party. The party derives its power from the people (who make up the vast vast majority of the party). Between 2003 and 2011, the PRC executed 14 billionaires. The anti-corruption campaign also continues to rack up billionaire heads. Corrupt officials who get extremely wealthy from bribes, too, get executed. When Jack Ma tried to step out of line, his company was seized and broken up (ANT group). The state consistently puts its boots on the necks of the bourgeoisie. At the same time, Chinese worker safety, labor rights, wages, overtime, state intervention, etc. are increasing. This stands in contrast to the dictatorships of the bourgeoisie in the west, most notably america. In the usa, the billionaires control the state and thus can get away with anything they want, and not a single one will face tangible punishment, let alone get executed.

As geopolitics shift, material conditions improve, and internal contradictions are resolved, GGKF will be rolled back as China progresses on its construction of socialism. This is beginning to happen. Since the international bourgeoisie have finally realized that China never intended to liberalize and is still, in fact, a socialist state, The DOTBs that they run are working day and night to slander, sanction, and vilify the PRC. The international institutions, which China had to join in order to effect GGKF, will slowly turn against China, using any excuse to try and squeeze them. But it is largely too late. Using the fruits of GGKF, China has eliminated extreme poverty entirely, resolving one internal contradiction. Its productive forces are good enough that it can begin to carry itself without much western IP and capital. I expect the PRC to further crack down on the excesses of GGKF; indeed, several markets have been entirely eliminated via nationalization already.

Here's some nice trivia! mcdicks in China is 50% state owned and its workforce is entirely unionized! Cool huh? In exchange for access to China's massive market, in their never-ending pursuit for higher and higher profit, the bourgeoisie is willing to partially fund the largest currently-existing socialist state. "The capitalists will sell us the rope", as is often said.

Red Sails wrote a great article addressing this question, if you'd like to give it a read.

SN: AZ36

#hazel's press releases #AZ36

[qqueenofhades]

what's been particularly vile to me is this group of white online leftists who insist that anyone who cares about more than this one issue for the election is a bad person, like, as if us black and brown people are making up reasons to be afraid and not.....believing the gop when they say they are coming for us. believing trump who has said previously that he does not bluff, that he will do the things he's said he will do (i hate what social media has gone to the word gaslighting but it feels like gaslighting. we lived through four years of trump. we saw the damage. stop treating us like we're being dramatic). it must be great to not have to worry about that i guess? "life won't change under trump" is such a telling admission because maybe theirs won't but mine will. and so many others' will.

and it is often again these (white) online leftists that love to call anyone who disagrees with them a white liberal (derogatory) because they know it would be racist (bad) to be this shitty and condescending to poc but they don't want to actually listen to anything black and brown voters are saying. it's easier to just call us white liberals and throw our opinions out, to ignore the work of black people for decades to gain the right to vote, to disregard the weight of telling them to not do that. it's genuinely appalling. they care so much about racism until it's time to engage with poc who have different opinions than their online echo chambers, then we're just stupid liberals with terrible opinions like..... wanting to live. not wanting four more years of trump. so sorry for that.

sorry for this vent in your inbox, i'm just so fucking tired of white people trying to rewrite history as if trump wasn't that bad. he was for my family and countless others and i am terrified for what's to come if he wins.

The thing about (the often-white) Online Leftists is that they have become just as much as a radicalized death cult as the diehard Trumpists. If you don't want to die for The Revolution and/or sacrifice your life, friends, family, the rest of the country, etc., then you're Insufficiently Pure and must be Purged. (Which I think is just complete BS, as none of them could actually handle sacrificing anything, but it's increasingly the only kind of performative rhetoric that is acceptable in leftist-identified discourse spaces.) This is functionally identical to "if you aren't willing to lay down your life for our Lord and Savior Donald Trump and the Great White Christian Nationalist Dictatorship, you're a liberal cuck," but with the names and justification changed. It doesn't change the underlying radicalization, nihilism, and insanity of the premise.

Another thing the Trumpists and the Online Leftists have in common is that they are busily rewriting just how bad Trump was in order to serve their Ideology. Ever since January 6, 2021, the Republicans have thrown everything they have at revising and whitewashing any suggestion that it was an "insurrection," and the Online Leftists have done the same, in an attempt to "prove" their insane point that Trump "would be better" than Biden. This is embodied in the recent ultimate-brainworm-nonsense maximalist-online take that "Biden has to lose so the rest of the world will see that the US rejects genocide!!!" That's right, the message that the rest of the world would take from Biden losing to Trump is that the US rejects genocide. Never mind if Trump literally wants to commit all the genocide possible and to install himself as a fascist theocratic dictator. In the deeply twisted minds of the Online Leftists, this is the only possible interpretation of Biden's loss, so they'll push for it as hard as they can! The Trumpists and the Online Leftists, at this point, are working pretty much in concert to damage Biden for similar insane reasons and get Trump elected. Etc etc., one Nazi and ten people at the same table is eleven Nazis.

Like. Sure. Four years ago, when Trump was president and people were dying by the thousands because he didn't want to wear a mask because it smeared his bronzer, just to name literally one of the terrible things he did every single day (and not even mentioning how much worse a second term would be) we were absolutely better off. Super-duper great. (Sarcasm.) Either that or "there is suffering and evil in the world and the only solution is to drastically increase the suffering and evil for everyone and to destroy what progress we have managed to make because It Does Not Fix Everything Now" is an absolute moral imperative, and either way, yeah. I'm calling bullshit.

#anonymous #ask #politics for ts

[lovelyyandereaddictionpoint]

Christmas Time: Yandere Buddy Daddies x Teen Delinquent Reader

The sight of snow behind the luxury condo’s window still felt odd to you

 Even with the fluffy insulating blanket around your body it still felt…weird

You didn’t look at the orange and flower embroidered blanket rustling next to you

With a yawn, Miri poked her head out to look for you

“(Y/n)? W-where oh, there you are.”

She scooched up to you 

Shoving her way past your arms and into the comfort of your blanket, cozying up to your body

The sight of snow behind the luxury condo’s window still felt odd to you

 Even with the fluffy insulating blanket around your body it still felt…weird

You didn’t look at the orange and flower embroidered blanket rustling next to you

With a yawn, Miri poked her head out to look for you

“(Y/n)? W-where oh, there you are.”

She scooched up to you 

Shoving her way past your arms and into the comfort of your blanket, cozying up to your body

“You always up so early… it's like you’re trying to leave me out.”

“I’d never Miri.”

She hummed clutching at your matching pajamas

You didn’t bother looking away from the snow sighing to yourself

“Is this your first time seeing snow?”

It was Re–Papa Rei who somehow quietly slotted himself next to you 

His hair was pulled back and he was wearing a nice suit with little tears

“Another...bad interview?”

“...Yeah…” He forgot that’s what they’ve been telling you two

“So first time?”

“...No, just the first time I’m inside for it.”

You could feel him looking at you 

“I heard…I know…the snow’s really different when you’re not surviving against it.”

You looked at him, listlessly worried for you 

Before turning your attention back to the window

“Alright, everyone! Are special cozy Christmas brunch is ready!”

Miri sluggishly perked up still wobbly with the effects of early morning/night gift giving

Thanks to circumstance Papa Kazuki had to be really roundabout when bringing Miri home

So all three of you spent the night napping irregularly and driving around

Only returning past midnight and forced to open presents early due to Miri’s demand Republic dictatorship

You didn’t mind it, getting more things you’d never imagine yourself holding in three lifetimes

And receiving kisses and hugs from everyone for gifts you don’t remember wrapping

It felt strange

With Miri slowly waking up her and Kazuki’s shouts of a feast almost underway

Beckoning you and Rei to join

With one more look at you, he went stripping off his work attire

It was Papa Kazuki who came to you 

Standing in front of you to block the window

“You too grumpy pants! Come on up you go!”

He made the motions with his hand before he went to grab you

Picking you up with ease as he made his way to the dinner table

you thought he’d put you down once you got there but he carries you still

Stopping before your designated chair

“Uhm Papa-Kazuki?”

“Yes, bug?”

“Can you put me down?”

“Hmmm?”

The blonde-brunette pretended to think 

To which you rolled your eyes

Giving a reluctant kiss to his cheek 

He finally let you down

“Awww you’re so well-behaved. Merry Christmas (Y/n)!”

“Mewwy Cwistmas!”

“Miri take your time and chew your food!”

“Omkay.”

“...Happy Christmas (Y/n).”

You sighed looking down at your plate full of all your favorites

Then back at your…family

“Thanks, guys, uh Merry Christmas?”

#yandere buddy daddies #platonic yandere #yandere x reader #yandere x you #lovelyyandereaddictionpoint #yanderexrea #yandere #yanderes #yandere family x reader #yandere buddy x daddies #yandere kazuki #yandere rei #yandere spy daddies

[lqveharrington]

Silver Roses & Fallen Snow

6: The Peacekeeper (series masterlist)

summary: Coriolanus Snow is sent of to District Twelve to become a peacekeeper and memories of you and him come up too often in his daily life there, not to mention the news he finds out about you.

pairing: young!coriolanus snow x fem!reader

includes: mentions of cheating, fluff, angst, suicidal thoughts, death, hanging, gun shooting, wrongful executions, drinking, implied sex, coriolanus is a manipulator, heavy screaming, backstabbing, uses of Y/N, italics are flashbacks/memories, bold italics are coriolanus’ thoughts (let me know if i missed any.)

word count: 6.9k

a/n: so, almost 7k words is insane for one chapter, but i wanted coriolanus as a peacekeeper to be completely done in one because the main focus for this was definitely being at the Capitol. the next chapter is reader’s POV during this time

Coriolanus Snow was caught cheating by Dean Highbottom. Of course, there were repercussions.

Coriolanus Snow was sent as a Peacekeeper for the Districts. It didn’t matter which District he was sent to, as long as he managed to claw his way to the top of the rankings to get back to the Capitol as soon as possible. He left his family behind with nothing. He lost his favorite person by violating your trust. He lost the opportunity to give the Snow name a meaning again.

He lost everything.

From celebrating the winnings to getting sent to District Twelve played a dangerous shift to his emotions, and it didn’t help that the silver necklace hidden underneath his layer shirts felt hot and heavy.

“Stop fidgeting.” Coriolanus wrapped an arm around your shoulders, kissing your temple. “It’s not going to make it any better.”

You huff, dropping your hand from your necklace, and tilt your head to face him. “Coryo, this is the only class I don’t feel confident in. I need to study.”

“You’ve studied for over three hours straight.” He took a seat in the chair next to you. “I think you’ll be okay.”

“I would be if you were here to help me study.” You look back at your textbook then your notes, tapping your pen onto your hand. “You were supposed to meet me here.”

“I know, but Demigloss had questions about the report I turned in.” He set his hand over yours, stopping the taps. “You’ll be fine.”

A beat passes.

“Quiz me.” You hand him the notes, taking him by surprise. “If I can get all the questions you ask me correctly, I’ll stop studying.”

“Fine.” He shuffled through your index cards. “What type of government did Panem have before the First Rebellion occurred, resulting in the change of government?”

You stared at him and creased your brows, “We learned that in the eighth grade. I’m pretty sure those aren’t even in my—“

“Answer the question.” Coriolanus cut you off.

“Totalitarian dictatorship.” You tangle your fingers into your necklace again, confused at his question. “Alright, give me one of the cards.”

“Sorry, that was all the questions.” He tucked the index card into the inside pocket of his jacket and gave you a smile. One that you did not return. He stood from his seat and left his hand out for you to take. “Let’s go.”

“Coryo.” You deadpan. “I have to study.”

Coriolanus leaned down, pecking your lips. “You answered the questions I asked you correctly.”

You roll your eyes with zero malice, biting back a smile at your boyfriend’s actions. “You are horrible, Coriolanus Snow.”

“Oh, yeah.” He reached one hand up to stop your fidgeting and the other to your chin. “I’m bad news.”

A voice behind Coriolanus interrupted his thoughts, making him stand at the familiar one. “You know, I thought I might find you here sitting all by yourself.”

Coriolanus gave him a surprised look, “Sejanus, what are you doing—?”

“What do you think? For what I did in the arena?” Sejanus shoved his bag down into a seat. “My father had to buy the Academy a brand new gym just so I could get my diploma.”

Coriolanus watched him make his way over to where he currently resided, watching with piqued interest.

“They begged me to stay, but once I found out where they were sending you,” He blew out a small chuckle, crossing over to the seat across from the blond. “I couldn’t get out fast enough. Barely made the train because of this stupid knee, but it’s okay.” Sejanus rubbed his knee as he took a seat, glancing outside the window. “They gave me morphine for the pain.”

Coriolanus looked at him with astonishment, albeit confused at the willingness of the boy. “You volunteered for this.” He replied, almost sounding like a question.

“Figured I get through basic, then maybe I become a medic. Make a real difference out here. Just like you said.” Sejanus gave a weak smile before regarding the bigger issue at hand. “They never told us what you did.”

“I cheated.” He shifted his gaze from the window toward the Plinth, subconsciously reaching out for the necklace but quickly stopped. “I had to save Lucy Gray from the snakes to win.”

Sejanus nodded solemnly, “I’m assuming you told your family and Y/N what happened? Why you’re being sent off to the Districts?”

Coriolanus frowned at the mention of you, clearing his throat. “I told Tigris, and Y/N knew. She uh,” He placed his thumb on his wrist. “Her and I aren’t together anymore.”

“Really? Because you got sent out as a peacekeeper?”

He shifted in his seat, annoyance spreading through his chest. “No, she just thought it was for the best. After all, I did cheat.”

“Coryo…” He shook his head, watching the landscape change.

“You know when you came in, I was weighing the merits of suicide.” Coriolanus looked down at his hands. The gesture he had done for you to calm down wasn’t the same for him.

Sejanus looked back at the young Snow, “When we were about to be free? When the girl you risked everything for might be waiting for you when you get back?”

This time, Coriolanus scoffed, shaking his head. “I’ll be back in twenty years. She’ll be married off to someone else by then.”

Upon their arrival to District Twelve, Coriolanus watched the grime and coal dust stick to the train as he and Sejanus stepped off. There were people dressed in the same uniforms covered in black soot, crossing the station with trolleys.

Coriolanus held back a scoff as he followed Sejanus, along with the other peacekeeper recruits, to their ride taking them to the barracks. Of course, he was sent to the worst District, and as far away from the Capitol as possible. The place was filled with those who thought lowly of the Capitol elites, and here he was among them, one of the District locals.

With you out of the picture and his family at home, the best thing he had for comfort was your necklace, still hidden underneath his layers. It sat high on his collarbone, the weight reminding him of what he had done to be here in the Districts.

“Welcome to Twelve.” Commander Hoff spoke toward the lined-up peacekeepers. “We are proud to have every one of you serving your country out here. For the next twenty years, brothers and sisters in your immediate squad will become your family. You will train together, sleep together, eat together. You will rise together, and you will fall together.” His voice echoed across the vast room, each recruited peacekeeper stoic. “You will be our eyes and ears out here on my base, as well as off of it. And it will be your duty to report anything suspicious you see because if you do not, you are as good as a rebel yourself.”

A few days passed for Coriolanus’s first days of peacekeeping, and there was already a hanging to be done to a man named Arlo Chance.

“Last month, a peacekeeper and two mine bosses were shot dead in the pits.” Commander Hoff shouted over the formed crowd of District Twelve people. “We retrieved the murder weapon. We swabbed it for DNA. And the results…“

Coriolanus focused on his breathing and adjusted his hold to his rifle, blocking out the rest of his Commander’s words. He glanced toward Sejanus, watching his face contort into discomfort before screaming could be heard coming from the crowd, causing both their heads to snap up at the sound.

“He’s innocent! He’s innocent!”A woman screamed from the top of her lungs, others immediately coming over to pull her back.

The man being hung stared in horror, screaming for her to leave. “Run, Lil, run!”

Coriolanus looked back at the man when another peacekeeper pulled the lever, hanging Arlo Chance before he could get any other word out. He flinched as the body dropped and how the jabber jays repeated the last words.

Quickly, peacekeepers came to pull the woman away, causing Sejanus to step forward. Coriolanus pulled him back and stared in disbelief before staring up at the jabber jays once more, taking heavy breaths.

As the day progressed, Coriolanus knew something was wrong with Sejanus, especially the way he would stand and listen to the yelling coming from the cell the woman was kept in.

“What were you thinking back there?” Coriolanus spoke calmly, holding onto his own helmet.

“She didn’t do anything, Coryo. What is she guilty of?”

“Being directly associated with rebels.” He shook his head, looking at the Plinth. “What more do they need?”

“If she had gotten through that crowd… I don’t think I would have been able to shoot her.” Sejanus stayed staring at the brick wall. “Would you?”

Coriolanus creased his brows at him, “You need to find a way to make peace with our life here now. Or have your father buy you a discharge and do something else.”

“You haven’t made peace with your life here.” Sejanus finally looked over, meeting Coriolanus’ icy stare. “Every night at our lockers, I see you mess with Y/N’s necklace.”

“Sejanus—“

“You think I don't realize the small things, but I do.” Sejanus looked up, shutting his eyes for a split second. “I know you miss her, Coryo.”

“Hey! Hoff’s given us all leave passes for the weekend.” A peacekeeper shouted from the side, waving the paper at them. “Boost morale.”

“Boost morale.” Sejanus raised his brows, stepping away from Coriolanus.

The blond watched him leave before looking back at the cell and reaching to grab the necklace hidden underneath his peacekeeper suit.

Coriolanus and Sejanus were at the front of their group of peacekeepers, now changed out of their service uniforms into a more lenient uniform. They were heading to the Hob as the live music echoed from the place, loads of people packed inside with drinks.

“Hey, uh, I’m gonna go get a drink.” Sejanus moves past Coriolanus, putting a hand on his shoulder.

He simply hummed, leaning against a brick wall near the entrance. He shifted his gaze around the room, looking at the different people inside the Hob, not realizing who was about to go on stage.

“Is it hot in here?” A young girl spoke loudly into the microphone, getting a unanimous reply from the crowd. “‘Cause we’re plannin’ on heating it up a set more!”

Coriolanus chuckles at the young girl’s stage presence before she announces the special guest.

“The one, the only, Lucy Gray Baird!” She points her hands over to stage right, her cousin twirling onto the stage with a guitar.

“Well, hey there, District Twelve, did you miss me?” The crowd roars with an answer, making Lucy Gray’s smile widen. “I bet you never expected to lay eyes on me again. And, let me tell you, that goes both ways. But I am back. I sure am back!”

Without fail, Coriolanus reached for the necklace under his dog tags, twirling the silver charm between his pointer and thumb as Lucy Gray started her song after a swig of alcohol to clear her throat.

“Can’t take my past…”

While she sang, Coriolanus flickered his eyes down to the charm, clutching it in his palm.

“That’s enough for you.” Coriolanus pulled the flask of posca away from you, taking a swig himself. “You’re drinking this like it’s water, baby.”

You hum at the name, yet shift from your spot on your bed, pressing yourself closer to him. “It’s only our second bottle.”

“Of posca, my love.” He kisses the top of your head before taking another drink.

“I want some.” You whine, reaching across his body for the glass bottle. “Coryo—“

“Sh, here.” He gave you the bottle, laughing a bit. “Don’t be too loud.”

“I thought you liked it—“

Coriolanus took hold of your thigh and squeezed, “Not the same thing.”

You take a sip — by sip, you swallow almost half of the bottle — of the burning alcohol before pouting at him. “It’s not?”

He smiled at you, kissing the corner of your lips. “No, two different things.”

“Oh.” You furrow your brows, hand finding the necklace.

Coriolanus pulled you by the hips, sliding you closer, and reached over to drink from the posca, hands restless over your skin.

“Wanna know something, Coryo?” You rest your chin on his shoulder blade, watching his head tilt down to meet your eyes.”

“What is it?” He mumbled, pulling you much closer to the point where your legs were tangled together and you were practically on top of him.

You let out a small hum at his action, still resting your head on his shoulder. “My mother used to sing me a song whenever I had to go to bed and I was too loud.”

“Really?” His glassy eyes looked around your face, hands trailing up and down your hip and abdomen. “What song might that be?”

You took one last swig and passed the bottle to Coriolanus who finished it off, placing it on your bedside table. Coriolanus placed a soft kiss on your lips, tasting the alcohol.

“I don’t know what it’s called, but if I had to give it a title, it would be called Invisible String.” You smile into the kiss, feeling one of his hands travel up to your neck.

He hummed, twirling the rose charm. “You have to sing it for me one day, beautiful.”

“Maybe.” You giggle, peppering his jaw in drunk kisses.

Coriolanus shakes his head at the memory, tucking the necklace back underneath his white shirt. That night ended with the both of you throwing up in your bathroom, with horrid hangovers in the morning.

He had a plan for his future. Many of which included you by his side. So having his head rerun a memory of you was not his idea of boosting morale, especially when Lucy Gray reminded him so much of what he had done to lose you.

The music suddenly came to a stop, pulling Coriolanus out of his head. He watched as a man came closer to Lucy Gray, tugging at her skirt.

Coriolanus weighed his options of getting caught in a fight or staying out, sadly, it was cut short when Sejanus came over to punch the guy harassing Lucy Gray.

“Shit.” He pushed past the people, pulling Sejanus away from the man. “Sejanus, stop!”

“No, Coryo, let go!” Sejanus tries leaving his hold. Lucy Gray watched Coriolanus pull his friend away, tilting her head at the brunet.

“What are you, crazy?” Coriolanus asks over the loud noises, pushing Sejanus toward the exit. “Come on, we gotta get out of here.”

“Coryo, you can’t just let her go through that after everything she’s been through!” Sejanus inhales sharply, spitting and grabbing his jaw. “Fuck.”

“Twice now that I’ve had to save your ass.” Coriolanus chuckles, patting his back.

Sejanus lets out a tired laugh, shaking his head. “Yeah, I guess so.”

“Where are you going?” Coriolanus let his eyes linger on his friend as he tried stepping away from him. “We’re supposed to ask around about the fight last night.”

“I know, but I just—“ He cut himself off, listening to the strumming of a guitar. “I just want to ask if Lucy Gray is alright.”

The blond raised a brow, “You want to make sure she’s alright?”

“Is that wrong?”

Coriolanus held the urge to roll his eyes, dropping his hand. “Whatever, just be quick. David and Moore will be doing rounds soon.”

He thought that Sejanus had gone insane. Hell, he thought he was insane ever since he met him, but it just seemed worse because he was placed in a District that wasn’t his home. Coriolanus’ eyes followed Sejanus as he trudged down the grassy hill. Coriolanus really didn’t get why Sejanus cared so much about a District girl who ruined his life. His life that he tried so hard to protect and build up. It didn’t matter much as he was called by one of the other peacekeepers in his group, saying he received a letter from someone.

Coriolanus thanked them and sat down outside the mailing station, peeling open the cream envelope.

‘Dear Coriolanus Snow,

I hope you’re doing well out in the Districts. Don’t worry too much about Grandma’am and I, we’re doing as well as we can. I’ve gotten a promotion at my job to make up for the rest of the rent for the month, but it might not be enough until you get back. Please take care of yourself out there and don’t do anything reckless for my sake, I want you back in one piece. I won’t make this long, but make sure to eat right over there and get enough sleep. Please write back soon!

From your favorite cousin,

Tigris Snow’

He let out a quiet chuckle, running his thumb across the cursive writing. He’d be back before his family could worry too much about him.

Coriolanus would make sure snow would land on top this time. No loose ends and no regrets.

Coriolanus held his own envelope as he made his way around District Twelve. He had forgotten about Sejanus and his antics with Lucy Gray until he saw him speaking with Billy Taupe, the man who harassed Lucy Gray at the Hob.

He watched as Billy and another man murmured words to Sejanus, taking their leave when they saw Coriolanus approaching.

“Hey—!”

“You’re back.” Coriolanus interrupted, tapping the envelope in his hands. “I figured you’d be a while.”

“What’s that in your hands—?”

The blond cut him off again, “Why were you with Billy Taupe? And who’s that other guy with him?”

“I remember that from the Academy. Watching you watch everyone. Carefully choosing when to weigh in.” Sejanus says with a calm demeanor.

“Are you trying to help these people?”

“Don’t you think they need help?”

“They lost the war, Sejanus.” Coriolanus shakes his head in disbelief, tucking the letter inside his uniform and reaching for the silver charm for the nth time since being drafted. “A war they started that made your family rich. I am not about to throw away any chance I might have of getting home someday and being with her just because you feel a bit guilty.”

Sejanus squints his eyes, jaw ticking. “Fine.”

Coriolanus didn’t have it in him to argue with Sejanus any longer, taking long strides to deliver his letter toward the mailing station.

“Coryo!” You call for your boyfriend from the bathroom, huffing in frustration. “Can you come here? I need help!”

Coriolanus sets down a book from your bookshelf, shuffling into your extensive closet connecting to your extensive bathroom. “What is it?”

You smile as he comes into view from your mirror, “Can you zip me? I can’t reach it.”

“Of course.” He runs his hand over your waist to the silver zipper, tugging it up with ease. “Happy?”

“Very.” You turn and bite your bottom lip, tugging him down by his black tie. “You look very handsome.”

“Thank you.” He murmurs, tugging you close by your hips, pressing a soft kiss to your lips. “You look beautiful as always.”

You smile, twirling your finger around his tie. “Do we really have to go to Ravinstill’s gala?”

“Beautiful, I just zipped you up.” He chuckled at what you were insinuating, rubbing a thumb on your bottom lip as you pouted jokingly. “Plus, I think we should make an appearance. After all, it is the President’s son.”

“That’s too bad.” You sigh, letting go of him to check yourself in the mirror one last time, running your hands across your stomach and then down the back of your legs, checking for any imperfections in the dress that hugged you perfectly in all the right places. “We’re good to go, yes?”

Coriolanus gazed in places he shouldn’t have been staring at before snapping his eyes up to your teasing eyes through the mirror. “Stop.”

“Stop what?” You frown, your voice laced with amusement as you tilted your head. “I’m just fixing myself.”

He wrapped one arm around your waist while the other slid up your arm toward your jaw, turning it toward him. “You know what you’re doing.”

“Do I?” You scan his face then peering at his lips. “Maybe I don’t. I haven’t gotten what I wanted yet—“

Coriolanus pulled you into a fast, rough kiss, sliding his tongue inside as you let out a surprised noise. You simply returned the gesture, not wanting to ruin his hair or his perfectly pressed suit. He tapped your waist as a warning before pulling you flush against him, chest to chest.

“Coryo—“ You pull away for a bit, staring up at him before he starts to kiss you again, cutting you off. You finally push away, holding his face in your hands. “Okay! I get it! Let’s go.”

“You’re fucking spoiled.” He kissed your temple. “Next time, wear a dress that doesn’t show everything.”

“Got it, wear a dress that shows everything.” You link your hands with him, watching him roll his eyes. “What? You love it.”

“I do.” He pulls you toward your vanity in your room, pulling the makeup wipes to wipe the lipstick smearing across and around his lips then pulling one out for you. “Open.”

You obliged, letting him wipe your lipstick off your lips and carefully around the side, not wanting to ruin the rest of it. “You’re lucky my father’s out on a business trip, or you wouldn’t be able to act like this at all.”

“I wouldn’t be allowed to step foot into the house, my love.” He took the lipstick from the set and carefully applied it to your lips. “Done.”

“Perfect.” You grin and grab your clutch. “I was thinking—“

“Don’t think you're getting off so easily from the antics you just pulled.” Coriolanus interrupted, making you raise a brow. “Just wait.”

You shook your head as you exited your room, not thinking much about his words until you were completely bent over the Ravinstill’s guest bathroom a few hours later, body flush against Coriolanus with his hand over your mouth, silencing any loud noises coming from you. The repeated shaking of your necklace was the only thing keeping you grounded.

Coriolanus blinked at the sudden memory, adjusting his uniform as he walked through District Twelve’s peacekeeper vicinity, nodding at the peacekeepers at the metal gate before getting stopped by them.

“Private Snow? Come with us.” A pair of peacekeepers pushed him around, making him confused at the sudden action.

As soon as Coriolanus learned where they were taking him, he walked at a steady pace, posture perfect as he entered Commander Hoff’s office. He saluted before he was given the command to be at ease, feet spread and back straight.

“Snow.” Hoff shuffled the papers on his desk, looking at the young male. “I received the results from your aptitude tests this morning. Looked over your training records too. Your performance is exemplary.”

Coriolanus gave a small grin without showing too much pride, looking around the commander’s desk. “Well, half the other recruits can’t read, sir.”

“You’re General Crassus Snow’s boy.” He clasped his hands together. “What did you do to end up here?”

I ruined a relationship. “I made an enemy, sir. In the Capitol.”

“I’ve made a career out of ruining my enemies’ plans. I’m gonna reassign you to officer training in District Two. You’ll earn a real wage. Maybe even another shot at the Capitol one day.” Hoff’s gravel voice echoed through his office. “Train leaves in ten days. Keep a clean record, you’ll never see anyone from District Twelve again. This is an honor, Private. Not an option.”

“Yes, sir. Thank you.” Coriolanus collects the papers and cards from Commander Hoff, doing his best to hold back a smile.

Coriolanus left his commander’s office, heading toward the telephone booths to call Tigris about the promotion.

“Coryo?” Coriolanus heard through the static, messing with the dials.

“Tigris?” He leaned in, looking at the screen with his cousin slowly coming into focus.

“Coryo!” She smiled brightly, scanning his features.

Coriolanus let out a small, tired laugh, “Tigris.”

“Your curls!” She laughed softly, eyes squinting with glee.

“Yeah, I know.” He reached up to touch his buzz cut, laughing with her. “Where are you?”

“Coryo, we’re fine—“

“Tigris, where are you?” He tried peeking at her background.

She sighed, looking around before speaking again. “We had to move out. We’re renting this place just for right now.”

“They evicted you?” Coriolanus murmured, frowning at the words his cousin spoke.

“Listen, I’m fine. Grandma’am is fine. I really don’t want you to worry, okay?” She whispered, watching his emotions through the screen.

“I think I found a way out of here. I just have to make it through Officer Training in Two. And then I can make my way back to the Capitol. I will fix this.” He shook his head, doing his best to stay positive for her.

“Okay.” She smiled, opening her mouth to say something before another voice slowly came around from the kitchen, making Coriolanus flinch.

“Tigris? I need your help with something. I don’t think I made this the right way.” You frown at the mixing bowl in your arms, showing the older girl. Your eyes flickered up at her when she didn’t respond, catching her on the phone. “Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t know—“

“It’s just Coryo.” Tigris did her best to cover both the screen and your body, knowing about the breakup between you two.

“I’m gonna be home soon. I promise.” Coriolanus held the charm in his finger for the umpteenth time, smile turned down at the sound of your voice.

Tigris let herself smile again, “Don’t give me hope.”

Just as she finished, the phone glitched and the screen became static, losing all connection with the Capitol. Coriolanus slammed his palm into the metal contraption, shoving the telephone into its slot.

Coriolanus, Sejanus, and the rest of their unit were assigned to recollect and check over the Jabberjays, then place them into a train car that would take them to the Capitol. However, Coriolanus thought it would be best to confront Sejanus about what he’s been doing while on his outings with Lucy Gray and conversations with those in jail cells.

“Whatever it is you’re doing, you need to stop it.”

“What are you—“

“Don’t.” Coriolanus shook his head, hands fisted on top of the table. “I saw you talking to that woman in the jail. If I don’t report you now…”

“You don’t know anything to report.” Sejanus lowers his voice, slowly setting down his clipboard.

“They know we’re friends, Sejanus. You’re gonna get us both killed.”

“You told me I could do something. You told me I could make a difference.”

Coriolanus pursed his lips together, looking away from Sejanus. He shook his head as he continued to speak, Sejanus’ voice getting louder by the second.

“Don’t. Stop Talking.” Coriolanus got closer but Sejanus kept him away. “I can’t hear this—!”

“Listen to me.” Sejanus pushed Coriolanus back to his side, watching a peacekeeper walk by before continuing.

He continued to talk about this ‘plan’ that Coriolanus had no intention of understanding. All Coriolanus knew was that he could get murdered for associating himself with someone working with rebels. Just to be safe, he took the remote for one of the jabber jays and hit record, finally putting Sejanus’ plan onto a database.

“I was just trying to save you the first time you did something stupid enough to ruin my life.” Coriolanus returned with some anger toward the Hunger Games. “What if they catch you bringing this woman off base?”

“It’s worth the risk to do the right thing.”

“For you.” He let his shoulders drop in frustration. “Your father will just buy your way out of it like he always does, while I’ll be hung just for knowing you. Please. Don’t make me rescue you again.” He let his hand drop toward the remote again and switched it to ‘stop.’

“I don’t need you to rescue me, Coryo.” Sejanus grabbed his two cages of Jabberjays. “And instead of worrying about me, ask yourself how Y/N feels nowadays. I hope you know it’s not good.”

Coriolanus bit the inside of his cheek, watching Sejanus walk away like he didn’t just drop a bomb on him. Of course, Coriolanus was wondering how you were. The last he heard of you was from the phone call the other day, and it’s not like he actually saw you. All he heard was you asking Tigris something. It was torture not knowing how you were. He knew that he broke you, but he also knew that your father wouldn’t be kind to the traveling news of him being drafted as a peacekeeper.

As Coriolanus put his jabber jays onto the train, his thoughts were moving one hundred miles per hour just thinking about how you were.

Coriolanus pressed a kiss to your temple as you rested your head against his shoulder, soaking up the sun as you strolled through the park. “I can practically hear your thoughts, beautiful.” He murmured against your head, pressing one last kiss before glancing down at you. “What’s on your mind?”

You sigh but softly smile at his gestures, squeezing his hand that was intertwined with yours. “I don’t know, mainly the future.”

He hummed, taking a sip from his coffee before pushing for more. “What about the future?”

Shrugging, you look across the Capitol park, watching families walk around with their children. “Just in general, and what it would look like later in life… What I would do or where I would live.”

Receiving silence from Coriolanus, you continue to speak, occasionally receiving hums and nods to know he is listening.

“I also figured that I would probably still love you.” You whisper, earning an eyebrow raise at the sudden switch in topic and voice level. “I mean, I don’t think I could see myself in the future without you.”

“Probably?” Coriolanus squinted his eyes at you. “You mean you will, right?”

You roll your eyes at the question, “Yes, Coryo. I will still love you. We’ll be fine.”

He playfully pinched your hip, earning a small squeal from you. “What made you think about the future, beautiful?”

Your smile faltered at the question, looking toward the gravel and dirt instead. Coriolanus frowned at your reaction, pulling you closer to him.

“My father,” You quietly say, reaching up to grab your necklace. “He… I don’t know. He keeps asking me to pick someone else to be with instead of you and stop hanging out with Tigris. I mean, I like being with Clemensia and Livia, but I love spending time with you and Tigris. I can’t just break up with you and get with some stupid prick.”

“Hey,” Coriolanus stops you from walking any further. “I’m here. I’ll always be here. If your father hates me, what’s he going to do about it? I love you. So much. I’m secure with you, and I know whatever happens between us will be okay in the future. I love you, and nothing will ever change that. Even if you do marry a stupid prick.”

Your eyes welled with tears, burying your head in his chest. “I love you.”

“I love you too, beautiful.” He put a hand on the back of your head, kissing the top. “Thank you for telling me.”

Coriolanus already knew the mess Sejanus got himself into when he told him what those in District Twelve were planning to do, so it was no shock that both Billy Taupe and Mayfair Lipp, the Mayor’s daughter, were shot and killed the night Lucy Gray performed a song about Snow.

Coriolanus had already told Spruce to get rid of the guns used to shoot Billy and Mayfair, but Sejanus’ crying and sputtering were enough to make him yell at the Plinth.

“For once, shut up!” Coriolanus directed his anger toward Sejanus, his dog tags clanging on your necklace. “All of this is your fault! It’s only gonna get worse if you don’t pull yourself together. If you breathe a word now, both of us, we’re finished. So we go back there and act like nothing is wrong.”

“I don’t know…” Sejanus choked out a sob, eyes glassy as he shook his head.

“Hey.” Coriolanus took long steps to Sejanus, grabbing the back of his neck and face. “Hey, look at me. You have to pull yourself together. You have to pull it together. You came here for me, right? We’re brothers?”

“Brothers,” Sejanus whispered out, taking deep breaths.

“So whatever you’ve done, I swear I will keep you safe. Those guns were the only loose end beside the four of us. So we’re gonna be okay. Okay? Not a word.” Coriolanus patted him, blatantly spewing more lies to him. “Okay?”

He nodded, mumbling out a response. Coriolanus patted him again, guiding him outside toward the open area of the Hob.

Eventually, the peacekeepers had to turn in for the night, but Coriolanus could tell Sejanus was struggling internally with what happened earlier. He just shook his head as he undressed from the issued uniform, tucking your necklace underneath his white shirt.

“Three years… I fought for the Capitol during the war. I’ve been angry. But this was the first time I felt ashamed. Get the other up here!” Commander Hoff pointed toward the crowd.

Murmurs went around as Coriolanus looked toward his right, hoping that Sejanus wasn’t the one being brought. He took deep breaths as the crowd parted, revealing Sejanus Plinth being pulled toward the hanging tree. Coriolanus’ cover faltered at how battered Sejanus was, his eyes widening at the boy.

“Coryo.” Sejanus watched him, tripping over his own feet. “Coryo—“

“The Capitol has received word via jabber jay that these two men conspired to break into our base’s jail and flee north to release this terrorist from captivity.” Commander Hoff pointed toward Sejanus this time, other peacekeepers putting the noose around his neck. “I’d expect this of a rebel but not from one of our own. This is treason, plain and simple. Play the recording!”

Coriolanus bit down on his tongue as the recording played, shifting his hold on his gun. He did what he had to survive, and if it meant losing Sejanus Plinth, then so be it.

“No, Coryo. Coryo, help!” Sejanus screamed from his ‘friend,’ wriggling in his constraints.

The hatch slammed down, executing all three people, including Sejanus. Coriolanus flinched at the noise, looking up at the jabber jays that were repeating Sejanus’ last words.

Everyone watched the bodies hang, slowly leaving with the thought of remorse for the young boy. As soon as the crowd cleared, Hoff dismissed his peacekeepers which allowed Coriolanus to take a breather.

He slammed down his protective gear on his thin mattress, drawing shapes on his wrist. He needed to calm down, but how could he? He just lost another person in his life, and it was all his fault. He wiped a singular tear before sighing, moving over to look through Sejanus’ belongings.

Coriolanus’ eyes immediately went to the photo card above a stack of letters. He flipped it over, realizing it was the photo taken seconds before the Tenth Annual Hunger Games began. He held back a sob at the two people in his life that have been there for him, both gone, but one truly lost.

Taking a deep breath, he took the letters from underneath and inspected them. It all came from one person. Coriolanus assumed it was Sejanus’ mother until he recognized the seal on the letter.

The Lovett seal.

Immediately, Coriolanus opened the first letter on the top, scanning the cursive words you had written. The sudden guilt and repentance Coriolanus felt for Sejanus was gone as he read further down the letter. How come he received letters? How come you sent letters to Sejanus?

He felt the weight of your necklace as he read the last few sentences. What the fuck?

Coriolanus shoved the letters back into Sejanus’ belongings, along with the photo. He was leaving for District Two tomorrow and didn’t need the distraction of both you and Sejanus when you weren’t even here.

For the next 24 hours, all Coriolanus could think about was leaving the hell hole called District Twelve. When he was training in the early mornings? He wanted to pack and leave. When sorting out the mess of jabber jays? He wanted to get on the train to Two. It was early the next morning when Coriolanus realized he could leave the mess he made behind.

After fulfilling his final tasks as a peacekeeper in Twelve, he filled his baggage with his personal items that he brought with him, along with Sejanus’ certificate of graduation and the tin box containing small shots of liquid Dean Highbottom would consume and the many letters you sent to Sejanus.

He wanted to burn them, he really did, but he had better plans for everything Sejanus owned.

“Sir.” Coriolanus saluted Commander Hoff, body itching to get on the train and leave.

“There’s been a change of plan, Private Snow.”

“Congratulations, Mister Snow.” Coriolanus heard Dr. Gaul as he approached her, holding onto his peacekeeper hat. “I’ve asked President Ravinstill to grant you a full pardon, effective immediately. I also told him that you are too promising to waste in the military. So you’ll be studying under me now at the Capitol University.”

He watched her as she fed meat to whatever was swimming in the pool in front of him, not wanting to meet her eyes. “I can’t afford University.”

“A certain Mr. Strabo Plinth has offered to pay for everything you need while you’re there. All for being such a good friend to his Sejanus. He doesn’t know quite how good a friend you were, of course. I never mentioned your little recording.”

Coriolanus held his breath and stood up straight, Dr. Gaul earned his full attention.

Dr. Gaul tossed another piece of meat into the pool, “Quite impressive, how you sent your only friend to the noose just to get my attention.”

“That’s not what I did.” Coriolanus denied.

“Are you sure? Because I think that won you the Plinth Prize, after all.” He loosened his shoulders, slightly tilting his head at her words. “The President has agreed to another year of the Games. People watched. And I have you to thank for that.”

She placed the tongs onto the metal tray beside her, clasping her hands in front of herself. “Not to mention your dear flower. She obviously played an important role, so thank her for that.”

Coriolanus clenched his jaw but said nothing.

“But before I take you under my wing, after everything you’ve seen out there in the real world, let me ask you one final time.” Dr. Gaul watched his gaze shift toward the eels. “What are the Hunger Games for?”

“I used to think that the Hunger Games were punishment for the districts. Then I thought they served as a warning to us here in the Capitol about the threat the districts posed.” He let out a sharp breath, remembering all that he’s done and what you’ve said. “Now I know the whole world is an arena. And we need the Hunger Games. Every year. To remind us all who we truly are.”

“And who are you, do you determine?” She grinned wickedly.

Coriolanus chuckled, the necklace worn underneath rustling. “The victor.”

“Welcome home, Mister Snow.”

“I’m going on a run.” Coriolanus knocked on Tigris’ door frame, watching her stick up a thumb.

He shook his head at her and left. It was hard to break a habit he was already used to, so his daily runs in the morning would have to be done until University starts again in September. Coriolanus meant to come by your manor multiple times because your birthday was coming up, but somehow, all forces were against him, pulling him away from it with other jobs Dr. Gaul, his family, or the Plinths presented him. He wasn’t planning on visiting you today, but the world seemed to hate him.

Stopping at the cafe, he ordered a hot coffee for himself and tea for Tigris and Grandma’am. He wasn’t going to come back home empty-handed of course. The barista took his order and went to make it, letting Coriolanus breathe for a while.

It wasn’t until he saw you dressed in a black dress, assuming you were mourning over the loss of Sejanus, did he lose his breath again. You were sipping on your hot chocolate with a planner and book in front, not realizing that a certain blond was to your far left.

“Snow.” The barista called out in the shop, causing both you and Coriolanus to snap your heads up.

He caught your gaze, eyes slowly flitting down to your left hand which adorned a precious rock.

So it was true. Coriolanus thought back to your many letters to Sejanus, watching as you tucked away your left hand and focused back on your work.

Y/N Lovett was engaged.

taglist 1: @peterparkerluvvbot @nathaslosthershit @springholland @psychicpuppyarcade @whodis-26 @coconut-dreamz @cowgirllharry @slytherinholland @lacysversion @perks-of-being-jojo @itzmeme @noodlesketchbook @upsidedownjill @mizuki80 @unclecrunkle @tiaamberxx @bxtchopolis @starrynightstory @namelesslosers @lugiastark @dangelnleif @aemondsb1tch @witchsbitchestime @ace-spades-1 @ordinarylokix @kookie29 @secretsicanthideanymore @angelscrime @ms-longbeach @rosieleej @alpha-mommy69 @loklaufeysonssgodess @aoi-targaryen @imaginebeingmentallystable @sighsophiia @innercreationflower @cascadingbliss @edb954 @castellandiangelo @nowitsmissing @lookclosernow @bambi-horror @httpfandxms @goobitagoobre @vxnilla-hxrddrugs @captainbabybear @becauseseaotters @mvdhvtterxx @moonisu @boredperson120 (comment to be added)

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©lqveharrington - all rights reserved. do not copy, translate or share my work on other media platforms

#coriolanus snow imagine #coriolanus x reader #corio snow #coriolanus snow fanfiction #coriolanus snow #coriolanus imagine #coriolanus smut #coriolanus fanfiction #coriolanus snow smut #coriolanus snow x reader #coriolanus x you #coriolanus x y/n #coriolanus snow drabble #coriolanus snow angst #coriolanus snow x you #coriolanus snow headcanon #coriolanus snow oneshot #coriolanus snow fluff #coriolanus snow fic #coriolanus snow x female!reader #coriolanus snow blurb #august’s srfs ❄️ #august’s works 🫧 #tbosas #the ballad of songbirds and snakes #the hunger games #the hunger games x reader #billy the kid x reader #tom blyth #tom blyth x you

[rejectedbytheempty]

could you write a story about enemies hero and villain that have to learn to care for each other while stranded somewhere? and the hero gets hurt and doesn’t want to tell the villain cause he doesn’t wanna seem weak in front of him, but the villain figures it out because the hero is in pain?

HELL YEAH that’s what i’m talkin about babey. so anyways, i wrote it, hopefully it isn’t too much like the ramblings of a madwoman. but i saw that you requested other things and i def will be getting to them (or at least probably)

TRAPPED

pt 2

tw: blood

“I guess this is what happens when you work with a villain,” Hero lamented, slumped against the gray brick of the cell wall.

Villain whipped their head to look at Hero, anger flaring in their eyes, “You were the one who screwed everything up, I wanted to do this alone, but no, you couldn’t leave well enough alone.” Villain had heard through the grapevine that Supervillain was planning on building some kind of super weapon that they planned to use to subdue the city and take despotic rule over it. As much as Villain could care less about the city, they did care about Supervillain having their go at dictatorship, they were known for being horribly cruel and Villain didn’t want to be at the other end of the smoking gun, so to speak. So Villain planned to break into Supervillain’s facility and hopefully destroy their plans, or at least get a good notion of how far away they should move to avoid the fallout. It was too bad that Hero had decided to interfere with their plans, for some reason that insufferable goody two shoes always stuck their nose in things that didn’t concern them. Hero tagged along, and because the two of them have never worked too well with each other (i.e. at all), they were captured by a bunch of Supervillain’s goons and stuffed in this dingy cell.

“If you went alone, then you would be in this cell by yourself, so maybe you should be grateful that you have company,” Hero said with a small smile on their face.

Villain sighed, “First of all, not true. Second, I could name a dozen other people I would rather have as company.” Hero laughed, but for a moment, the side of their lip twinged up in a wince. It was quick enough that anyone else wouldn’t have caught it, but Villain narrowed their eyes in suspicion.

Hero’s amused face quickly melted into confusion, “What? What’s wrong?”

Villain rose up from where they were sitting and strode forward towards Hero, “I should be the one asking you that, isn’t that right, Hero?”

Hero swallowed nervously and shifted in their seat uncomfortably, “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

Villain was quick to snatch Hero’s arm, which had been sitting in a seemingly relaxed position over their stomach. There was a large gash in Hero’s side, with dark, bloody stains spreading to either side of the split fabric of their uniform. Hero tried in vain to pull their arm back from Villain’s grip, but only succeeded in pulling their injury taut, to which they hissed in pain.

“When did this happen?”

With a grimace, Hero explained, “In the fight, when we were discovered, one of the guards managed to get me with their knife. I didn’t really notice how bad it was until we were walking to the cell and I looked down..”

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Villain demanded.

Hero shook their head and laughed softly, more in a bitter way than in humor, “I.. I don’t know. I just didn’t want to seem weak, I suppose.”

Villain’s expression softened slightly and they released the hold they had on Hero’s arm, and Hero was quick to draw their arm back to their body.

“Christ, Hero, that was dumb. I’m not- well, I’m not that much of a villain.”

Hero avoided Villain’s pitying gaze, setting their jaw before saying, “It’s bad enough that I dragged you down with me, I didn’t want to be more of a burden.”

Villain reached out, gently grabbing Hero’s jaw and guiding them to look face-to-face with Villain, “You are not, and never will be a burden.” Hero opened their mouth to say something but was interrupted by a loud clapping noise that echoed through the cell.

Villain and Hero looked up to see Supervillain standing there, clapping slowly. “Touching stuff, really,” they said with a bone-chilling grin on their face. The moment that Supervillain had made themself known, Villain had stepped away from Hero, hardening their gaze once again. Hero breathed heavily, trying to subdue the obvious fear that was overtaking them.

“You know, I had only planned to catch one but what luck that Hero showed up! And all it took was the rumor that I was building some kind of superweapon, as if I would ever do that, takes out the personal aspect to this job that I so love,” Supervillain said, maintaining a superficially cheery tone.

Villain stumbled back at this, heart sinking to the bottom of their chest, “It was fake?”

Supervillain’s booming laugh bounced off the stone walls, “Thought you would have been smart enough to figure it out by now, but I expect too much, I suppose.”

Villain glanced over at Hero who was staring dissociatively at the ground, chest heaving as they breathed heavily through their nose.

“Oh! Looks like your little friend there is about to pass out. Poor thing, probably scared out of their mind. But, maybe it’s the blood loss that’s finally getting to their head.”

Villain saw red, they slammed against the cell bars, “Let them go. Right. Now. They had nothing to do with this, I’m the one you want.”

Supervillain’s grin didn’t even fall for a moment, “No, I don’t think I will. This is just too much fun, it’s even better than I thought. Sadly, I do have to get back to my scheming, maybe I will actually build a superweapon this time. I’ll be back soon though, so don’t you worry,” Supervillain said, booping Villain’s nose, to which Villain backed away in anger and surprise.

“Toodaloo, Hero!” Supervillain said playfully, waving goodbye before heading towards the door, leaving Villain and Hero back to complete silence.

A/N: okey, lmk what you guys thought and if i should do a part 2 or whateva

#hero x villain #villain x hero #hero #villain #enemies to lovers #hero prompt #villain prompt #writeblr #writing prompt #writing

[kadextra]

Okay q!Bad is expanding so much on his plan for if he becomes president. I’ll break it down for y’all because it’s big brain

Basically, he would want to prevent having supreme power as an individual, bc it could lead to tyrant or dictatorship rule -> absolute power corrupts absolutely.

If q!Bad became president, he’d try to immediately dissolve his sole responsibility and enact a coalition government to maintain the server unity. Each language-group would send a representative to this coalition who will vote for decisions on the mods to add, mods to remove, and yes- the person to add to the server.

q!Bad said he’s even willing to give up adding Skeppy, because as a president he wouldn’t want to make any self-centered decisions and risk being corrupted by the power. all it would take is one. Plus, he realizes everyone wants a chance to add their friends. Leaving important decisions to a vote is really sweet actually

TLDR q!Bad as president would immediately try to unite the server, opposing the Federation’s likely intention to divide it. Would they allow that in their experiment? Would they try to control him? Who knows, but if he’s actually able to make this happen, that means the communication SMP would strike again >:D

#qsmp #badboyhalo #bbh my president #man is thinking this through so deep #the federation is gonna control him 100% though #but i believe in my streamer to try and fight back

[wealmostaneckbeard]

The politics in Lancer the mech pilot TTRPG seems center left to me. A good way to explain what's going on in that game's universe is with this overly long metaphor:

Imagine an alternate history where Nixon somehow beat JFK Jr to the white house, and once in office he lets Kissinger go nuts setting fascists up on an accelerated schedule. That's what Union's Second Committee was like. Then Tricky Dick procedes to nuke Vietnam a couple times. That's the Hercynia Crisis and that FTL Piston weapon launch. JFK and company ride the shock and horror of approaching nuclear war into office on the promise of de-escalation and enforcing civil rights, and they deliver. That's the coup that formed Union's Third Committee. Kissinger, Nixon, and the entire pentagon/raytheon corp take over NASA in Cape Canaveral, Florida where they form a tolerated corporatocracy in exile. That's basically Harrison Armory on the planet Ras Shamra. Now a United liberal-leftist front of America is actively trying to tear down dictatorships around the world that Kissinger set up (he got assassinated at some point in this time line) and replace them with socialist democracies. That is Union's Justice/Human-Rights Department and a few other government branches. So far they've had some success although people are pointing out that it's a bit hypocritical that the liberators are using weapons from corporate conservative states where civil rights are discretely curtailed. That's what's driving political discourse in 5016u in Union's legislative body, the Central Committee and it's myriad political parties.

So yeah Lancer's political intergalactic landscape is a bit like modern day? Except also cthulhu is giving out reality-breaking tech to militant civil rights advocates and random civilians? That's what HORUS basically is, btw.

Now that I've written this out, it would make for a good american alt-history with mechs campaign in Lancer...

#henry kissinger #lancer rpg #alternate history #union's third committee #union's second committee #harrison armory #science fiction #table top role playing #ttrpg #mech #mecha #usa politics #usa history #richard nixon #john f kennedy #us history #us politics #horus

[txttletale]

hi I've been following you for a while and I had some questions about MLism. First, while I think I have a decent understanding of how it works economically, how would a ML government (after the revolution) ensure it doesn't become too powerful? like what systems would be put in place so that it hears public opinion and dissent (should there be any) and not try to maintain power through oppressive means?

Secondly, what would the aftermath of the revolution look like? once the government is overthrown, there will most likely be a period of instability where different factions trying to sieze control. How would the MLs make sure that they get seated in power?

I am genuinely trying to learn more about it, so I'm sorry if those questions are ignorant. Thanks!

i mean, that first part? i'll be completely honest with you and say that in my opinion that's a partially unsolved problem. i think that lenin's prescriptions in state & revolution, based on the actions of the paris commune--that all 'officials' should be subject to democratic recall at any time and paid no more than anyone else--would be a good start.

but of course the USSR did not ossify and see abuses of power because its leaders simply forgot about what lenin wrote--the centralization of power and limiting of worker democracy was a direct result of the newly formed state apparatus having to fight brutal years-long civil war followed as mere decade later by a brutal years-long international invasion. & this is of course a situation that will be faced by any serious socialist government & their newly formed apparatus!

however, on the other hand -- cuba has succesfully maintained an incredible system of participatory democracy. i think that mao's idea of the 'mass line' -- that theory must constantly be in dialogue with the situation on the ground and the situation of the workers -- is vital to maintaining this. in its own time of crisis, during the 90s, instead of 'pulling the ladder up' on workers' councils, cuba expanded and doubled down on its participatory democracy. i think if any nation has succesfully followed lenin's theory and example, it's cuba, and the mass workplace and municipal democracy that the cuban communist party has invited should be the model for any future socialist revolution.

and quite frankly the reason why MLs will 'take power' after the revolution is because marxism-leninism is the only revolutionary socialist ideology with a plan and ability to take and maintain power over the bourgeoisie. i think one thing reading lenin will very much clarify is that the socialist state is not something that is built after the revolution but a continuation of the revolution -- lenin explains aptly the marxist position that, having taken up arms in order to dethrone the bourgeoisie, to not establish a marxist dictatorship of the proletariat is to throw aside those arms that have already been wielded and used. 'not setting up a worker's state' isn't inaction, but a deliberate choice to be disarmed and helpless in the face of foreign intervention or counterrevolution.

and this is also why i think that while solving the (very real and dangerous!) spectres of bureaucracy, of revisionism, of socialist militias becoming police forces "special bodies of men apart from and above" the people instead of "self-acting armed organizations" of the people is a vital and pressing question for marxism-leninism to address in both theory and practice, it is just as vital to note that only marxism-leninism can succeed to the point where this becomes a problem--only marxism-leninism has shown the historical ability to put the workers in a position of political supremacy that they might risk losing to these flaws and missteps.

& seriously, don't be sorry for asking questions. any questions in good faith are welcomed on this blog, because i'm a communist and i do in fact think it is my job to explain communism to people. have a nice day & don't be so down on yourself!

#ask #Anonymous