#and i think some people see it through a way more malicious lense than it was intended to be

[roaringroa]

hate when ppl talk about touko from bloom into you like she was pressuring yuu into having feelings for her when she was literally doing the opposite? she wanted yuu to NOT have feelings for her lmao

[science-lings]

okay this has been going through my mind for days and I have to get my thoughts out before I explode

Disclaimer, this is not talking about a specific artist/person and would never condone or participate in anon hate or online bullying for any reason but especially this one. 

I get why people are mad about Link being portrayed as this buff, hypermasculine, tall guy. I am too (again don’t fucking attack people over it though) and it seems like such an infuriating way to change the character just to fit into some ideal of hypermasculine attractiveness or to make a ship fall into a more hetero lense by making him a decent foot taller than whatever girl he’s being paired with. 

The world of video games and action movies and every form of media ever is extremely saturated with male characters that are swole and manly and whatever other descriptors people are trying to push onto Link that don’t fit into his actual character. There are so many characters out there that already fit this male standard and having a clearly androgynous elf guy was like a breath of fresh air. 

Link was literally designed to be a character whose lines on gender were blurred, ‘a girl with a masculine touch or a guy with a feminine touch’ so that anyone could project themselves onto him. His physical design in botw/totk was specifically made to be feminine enough to wear a certain outfit to pass as a woman (which includes a nearly mandatory cutscene where he puts on the clothes and blushes after being called pretty, like you have to be blind to think that its an experience that he doesn’t like at all) and in totk there are a bunch of outfits made for Link that are blatantly gnc, ones that are practically dresses, include nail polish and lipstick, you can even dye his hair bright and vivid colors and that’s half way to giving him new pronouns. The whole reason Linkle isn’t included in more mainline loz games was because her existence would force Link into a gender dichotomy, if there's a clearly female version of the main hero, that means the main hero has to be a man, and they would rather abandon a potential reoccurring character than make Link conform to a gender binary. 

So pardon me when it feels disingenuous and even malicious for him to be morphed into these clear masculine ideals, where he towers over any female romantic partner (even when in canon he is regularly depicted as noticeably shorter than her) or even in m/m fanworks he’s really beefed up, perhaps to make the scene feel more gay or something. 

Perhaps it’s because his more twink-y/ femboy body type is so heavily sexualized (though obviously when people are sculping abs on him it’s totally not because they’re horny about it) and that’s an issue in itself that bothers me. But it’s just so tiring to see one of the very few popular main characters who is short and feminine and androgynous be molded into just another bland muscle-headed action hero over and over and over again. 

I’m not mad at the creators for portraying him differently than how I like him portrayed, I’m mad because we really do get so few characters like him in good popular media, and to be honest, I really like him the way that he is. I love that he’s tiny and has long hair and has the option to dress any way the player likes. It seems a little distasteful to make him taller than a female love interest just because that’s how straight couples have to be, there’s just never been a real straight couple where the guy is shorter than the girl, that’s just Impossible! (/s) 

[olderthannetfic]

I've read through the End Racism posts (not all, but a good part of them) and think the people behind it do have good and honest intentions, and that a lot of things are being blown out of proportion. I don't necessarily agree with some of the ideas regarding out of archive harassment and AO3's responsibility, but I can see the thought process. Same with a lot of other things. I'm very wary of Stitch being cited, but can likewise understand why people may not fully clue into why there are.... so so so many issues with that. If you haven't been hyper involved in fandom (included those you're not in) you miss things. Which is a whole other issue lmao. But overall, I don't think anyone is being malicious

That being said, there's a lot that seems.... overly optimistic? Or perhaps very central to where the creators behind End Racism are from and their own biases and education. People have brought up HOW on earth what is or is not racist (beyond the incredibly obvious examples) can be decided, or how you can know who's writing a fic and why (is it a racist bigot, someone writing about their own experience as a POC, or someone who doesn't know something?) and the answer, as another anon mentioned, is never really stated. Because there isn't an answer in many cases, but that hasn't been acknowledged

I also worry about the insistence (in some responses to questions and in notes I've seen even in the asks you've received) that a diversity consultant will help as much as people seem to think. Yes, it's a step forwards.... but a diversity consultant cannot be an expert in EVERYTHING. I suppose the argument is "get more diversity consultants to volunteer" but that still causes it's own issues. I was in a server with someone who frequently read over fics as a sensitivity reader, and was extremely well educated and respectful. But even they flat out said they made a hell of a lot of mistakes once they stepped out of what they knew, and wouldn't give feedback on certain things. I worry a diversity consultant would be, well, very american centric, and while that isn't necessarily a bad thing, people have brought up how it could be, and those concerns are being completely brushed to the side.

I think there's just SO much to this, and so much more complexity than they're willing to admit. Again, other anons have brought this up, but there's a ton nuance in this. We're talking international views on majorly complex issues, with endless cultural lenses, people writing and reading from countless backgrounds, and so on. It really just feels like they don't want to even acknowledge that

I don't think most behind it are trying to actively push for censorship, or are operating in bad faith. That's my impression from reading on my own. There have been some individuals around tumblr that have been horrific about it (the anti-semitism that came out is.... something), but overall I think there are good intentions. But so many pertinent questions aren't being answered, and the very valid concerns people have brought up have been ignored.

I support the idea behind it, and having a diversity consultant on staff certainly isn't a bad idea, but the way in which they're going about things, the concerns they're ignoring, and the dismissal of people who are raising said concerns as racists is. huh. Well, it makes me wary to actively support.

--

[dreaminginthedeepsouth]

I was asked about what grievances M.A.G.A. has and I thought it over.  My response follows. 

I see three common characteristics in their complaints. 1) They involve a checklist of specific groups, foreign and domestic, they fear and loathe, such people being mostly outside the cultural limits of their tribe. 2) These groups are all "up to something", conspiring to take something away or threaten their security. 3) And such threats are directed by certain people behind the scenes who they've been warned about in their social networks---Hillary, Soros, etc. What makes this all work politically is that it's a cafeteria of madness, with each paranoid person getting what they want out of it all. 

And it's all ambiguous enough for each person to read into the conspiracies and the nonspecific "elites" and "globalists" something that is swirling in their confused minds. I think all this explains why there's been a renewed interest in Richard Hofstadter's "The Paranoid Style in American Politics". RH blended scholarship from other academic disciplines with political and social history to give us a new perspective on movements. He got criticized for it, for straying into speculation, I suppose, but he opened eyes.

This was the essay alone, in 1964, before it was published by Knopf along with some others in 1965. https://harpers.org/.../the-paranoid-style-in-american.../

[Thanks to my friend Steven Jennings]

* * * *

“The Double Sufferer”

The paranoid style is not confined to our own country and time; it is an international phenomenon. Studying the millennial sects of Europe from the eleventh to the sixteenth century, Norman Cohn believed he found a persistent psychic complex that corresponds broadly with what I have been considering—a style made up of certain preoccupations and fantasies: “the megalomaniac view of oneself as the Elect, wholly good, abominably persecuted, yet assured of ultimate triumph; the attribution of gigantic and demonic powers to the adversary; the refusal to accept the ineluctable limitations and imperfections of human existence, such as transience, dissention, conflict, fallibility whether intellectual or moral; the obsession with inerrable prophecies . . . systematized misinterpretations, always gross and often grotesque.”

This glimpse across a long span of time emboldens me to make the conjecture—it is no more than that—that a mentality disposed to see the world in this way may be a persistent psychic phenomenon, more or less constantly affecting a modest minority of the population. But certain religious traditions, certain social structures and national inheritances, certain historical catastrophes or frustrations may be conducive to the release of such psychic energies, and to situations in which they can more readily be built into mass movements or political parties. 

In American experience ethnic and religious conflict have plainly been a major focus for militant and suspicious minds of this sort, but class conflicts also can mobilize such energies. Perhaps the central situation conducive to the diffusion of the paranoid tendency is a confrontation of opposed interests which are (or are felt to be) totally irreconcilable, and thus by nature not susceptible to the normal political processes of bargain and compromise. The situation becomes worse when the representatives of a particular social interest—perhaps because of the very unrealistic and unrealizable nature of its demands—are shut out of the political process. Having no access to political bargaining or the making of decisions, they find their original conception that the world of power is sinister and malicious fully confirmed. They see only the consequences of power—and this through distorting lenses—and have no chance to observe its actual machinery. 

A distinguished historian has said that one of the most valuable things about history is that it teaches us how things do not happen. It is precisely this kind of awareness that the paranoid fails to develop. He has a special resistance of his own, of course, to developing such awareness, but circumstances often deprive him of exposure to events that might enlighten him—and in any case he resists enlightenment.

We are all sufferers from history, but the paranoid is a double sufferer, since he is afflicted not only by the real world, with the rest of us, but by his fantasies as well.

[Richard Hofstadter :: The Paranoid Style in American Politics]

[yoonpobs]

bad boy good thing iv.

pairing: jeon jungkook x oc

genre: angst, smut, fluff, miscommunication (we hate her lol), pining

warnings: smut, jungkook is really an asshole, the angst hurts a lot tbh, unhealthy relationships (?)

words: 2, 105

summary: a series of drabbles where you're confused and jungkook's confusing

a glimpse into the past

Jungkook’s been to a total of two graduations his entire life—one was his middle school’s graduation that seemed more like a farewell party and his older brother’s college one. Now, he can say that he’s attended three. But he’s never felt like this—never felt dread to say a temporary goodbye to a face he’s been so accustomed to seeing.

Maybe that’s why he’s in such a sour mood as his peers hugged their seniors' goodbyes, smiles on their face while they engaged in chatter about the future. Jungkook’s always been hard on parting and today is no different. Especially with the constant reminders at every corner of the hallways, streams of red and blue painting the ceilings with a big fat ‘happy graduation to the seniors!’ Mocking him on his journey to his classes.

He almost wants to slap some sense into himself. Because why was he terrified for the beginning of a new chapter that wasn’t his story to tell? Why was he dreading the moment that the seniors collected their diplomas and walked off the stage; and out of his life?

But he doesn’t do that; because the fear is as addictive as the excitement he feels when he thinks of you. A conflicting and tortuous juxtaposition of the beautiful day for a valedictorian and her younger friend.

“Jungkook!” A voice calls, and when he turns he sees Taehyung barrelling towards him with two people trailing closely behind.

When Taehyung plummets into Jungkook’s chest with an oof, but all Jungkook can focus on; despite the ache in his chest, is you.

You’re so pretty. But that’s nothing new for Jungkook. However, you were smiling, soft and sweet like the person who stayed up during her finals to tutor Jungkook on math concepts and the same girl who supported him through his football trials in junior year.

But you were grown, and the robe was the testimony of your age and maturity—the level of intelligence that you possess only grew with time and now you were walking towards him with a sense of quiet assuredness that he’s always admired you for.

Jungkook’s sure he’s gaping but he’s never been able to control himself around you.

“Can you stop gawking at her already?” Taehyung complains, twisting the skin between Jungkook’s armpit in retaliation.

Jungkook burns but scowls at the older boy who simply snickers in response.

“I’m so glad you’re graduating.” Jungkook snaps.

Taehyung snorts, “If I go she goes.”

Jungkook purses his lips as he readies himself for another retort, but you arrive and the first thing he notices is how gentle you smell. His favourite scent in principle, a whiff of laundry detergent accompanied with the light floral perfume he remembers his mother gifting you for your birthday.

“You’re gonna miss us, aren’t you?” Is the first thing Jimin says when he greets the younger boy with a ruffle to his head.

Jungkook glowers in embarrassment as he tries to fight him off, and despite his shorter stature in height—Jimin was in fact, quite strong.

Regardless of his flustered state, you smile at him warmly and perhaps Jungkook is biased when it comes to you because he’s sure you’ve always smiled the same, but every tilt of your lips evoke an array of different feelings in Jungkook’s chest.

“The two of you are like dumb and dumber so no—not really. God knows he’s finally granted my wish for emancipation.” Jungkook grumbles.

Taehyung feigns offence with a hand to his chest, leaning his head against Jungkook’s shoulders while he rolls his eyes.

Then he remembers you, the girl who just smiles as the world will always do her good.

“But I’ll miss Noona, though.” He says, and he hopes the shakiness of his voice isn’t obvious. “She’s the only one that doesn’t tease me.”

You grin up at Jungkook, giggling when Jimin and Taehyung gape at the younger boy’s audacity.

“Yah. You call her Noona and not us Hyung?!” Taehyung screeches were loud enough for the group of you to wince at his loudness.

“Don’t forget that you would have never have met her if it weren’t for us, you brat.” Jimin reminds, though not maliciously.

Jungkook does thank the stars for them introducing him to you. Because he doubts otherwise you’d ever interact with him. You were always in your own bubble, tucked away in a safe space filled with your own sense of solace and comfort. And Jungkook admired that.

He liked being alone, but he never wanted to be lonely. You were a breath of fresh air when you taught him the lines between loneliness and being physically alone; and how you learnt to never conflate the two. You were independent and bright, but warm and welcoming—and Jungkook remembers that these feelings weren’t just a floor away anymore.

“Ignore them, Kook.” You sigh. “Gonna miss you too.”

Jungkook feels himself melt because you say it so sweetly and sincerely.

Taehyung and Jimin ruin his love-blurred lenses by gagging at your blatant display of affection towards the younger boy.

“The two of you are so gross.” Jimin groans, earning a nod from his other half.

You roll your eyes when all Jungkook does is flush at the insinuation.

“Unlike the two of you, we make the better and more rational pair.” You chastise. “Don’t we, Kook?”

And the nickname he’s grown to love though he has a love-hate relationship with it slips off your tongue and he finds himself agreeing with you.

“These two idiots are a quarter of a brain-cell combined on a good day,” Jungkook mutters.

You burst out into laughter, rubbing a calming hand onto his shoulder and he feels the dread come in. Because this was no longer something he could reach out to when you went to college.

“Whatever.” Jimin scoffs.

Then the PA system sounds, and the principal calls for the graduates to gather at the hall. And it represents all of Jungkook’s worries in an announcement and he’s not ready to let you go yet.

“That’s our call.” You declare, eyes darting to the other seniors who pull apart from their juniors to rush to the hall.

Jungkook’s eyes widen one last time before Jimin and Taehyung both wrap their arms around Jungkook tightly, murmuring a much more sincere and grateful remark than their previous chides. And he feels slightly bad that he can’t respond because his brain is far more focused on your lone figure, who eyes him with sad yet gentle eyes.

“You’ll come to our role call, right?” Jimin asks.

Jungkook gulps because all he can focus on is your face.

“Y-yeah. Course’.” He mumbles. He feels the need to say something—do something before people crowd you after it’s over. Jungkook would never stand a chance.

He seems rooted in his feet, Jimin and Taehyung already trailing off with their arms around each other and words of their future in the air. You smile at Jungkook—and it’s the same—but his hands reach out before he can think twice.

Jungkook grabs your wrist before you can leave, gulping to himself when you stare at him with wide eyes.

“You okay?” You ask softly.

No, he’s not, because his heart is beating so fast and he doesn’t want this day to come to an end.

“I-I’m okay.” He chokes, “I just—don’t you have a parting gift for me?” Jungkook blurts before he can rationalise what the fuck did he even mean.

But Jungkook just stares at you like a deer caught in the headlights while you tilt your head at him endearingly. He hopes that his pulse doesn’t emanate from his grasp, but your wrist is small, and it feels just right in his palm.

Your lips are twitching as a grin threatens itself on your expression, and he sees the mischief in your eyes that come out every once in a while.

“Aren’t you supposed to be giving me a gift, Jeon?” You tease, and Jungkook is so soft.

He snorts, a little glad that you didn’t point out his sudden grip on your wrist.

“But you’re leaving me.” He pouts.

You roll your eyes and take a step closer to him until you’re directly in front of him. And he sees your features up close and God—did he say you were pretty?—well because you’re even prettier up close and he loses all sense of thought when you’re smiling up at him with bright eyes.

“I’m always a call away.” You say softly, gently tugging at his hand; and it’s crazy to think that you were the same older girl that was usually timid reaching out to him in a way that was shy but so you.

Even with the chattering of other students, Jungkook only hears your subdued voice.

“It’s not the same.” Jungkook sighs, and he’s slightly aware that he was whining. But you don’t seem to be bothered.

“You’re probably going to forget about me.” You scoff and it’s light, but he can see the slight furrow of your brows. “You’re Jeon Jungkook. You’ll do great.” You add softly.

Jungkook purses his lips and wants to tell you that it wasn’t possible. You took up space in his life, both in school (well, not anymore) and in his mind. You and your wonderful mind.

“Says the valedictorian.” Jungkook huffs.

You pout, “You know that isn’t long-term. What if I just peak in high school and … you know …” You sigh, shaking your head, “I’m not outgoing like Jimin or a social butterfly like Taehyung. Neither am I as friendly and likeable like you are, Jungkook. I’m just … boring.”

Jungkook freezes because while he knew you were on the shier side; the louder than life tendencies you had were small but abundant. You didn’t need to speak louder than anyone in a room to get your points across, you were soft and empathetic and led people in organisations to see the good in the work they did.

Your genuine nature drew people in, even though you’d flush under attention and praise—and if Jungkook could—he’d scream it out to the world. But you were in front of him, and he figured that was enough.

“Don’t say that.” Jungkook snaps and his tone causes you to flinch as you stare at him with wide eyes, “Don’t … put yourself down like that. You’re great, _____. You’re intelligent and kind. Just because you’re different doesn’t mean you’re boring. There are situations in this world that need people like you. There are people that find comfort in a quiet soul because you’re introspective and thoughtful. People like …”

Jungkook exhales when you stare at him so earnestly, and his ears turn red. “People like me. We need people like you in our lives.”

Your mouth falls open as you blatantly stare at Jungkook with wide eyes; he’s on the border of being absolutely mortified and running away so he wouldn’t be the subject of your obvious ogling.

But then a soft smile makes its way onto your face, and you’re tugging Jungkook by the hand and into a warm hug.

Despite him being younger than you, he’s always been taller and bigger than you were. And it was a sense of security he felt in your presence rather than your physical entity that would never be replaced with anything else.

“You really grew up, huh?” You say, a giggle in your chest.

Jungkook rolls his eyes but accepts the way you rest your head on his chest. He’s never had you this close before, and he hates that it’s on the day he needs to say goodbye.

“I’ve always been this way.” Jungkook answers. He also thinks: I’ve always been here. For you.

“Thank you, Jungkook.” You say softly, pulling away even though Jungkook wants to keep you close.

“Anytime.” He smiles widely at you, and a classmate of yours calls your name as you turn to give them a nod of acknowledgement before you’re turning back to Jungkook with a cheeky smile on your face.

“Here’s your gift.” You inform him.

“I was kidding—”

And before you can respond, you’re placing both hands on his shoulder and on your tippy-toes to deliver a kiss to his cheek.

Jungkook is stunned and he isn’t able to process it fast enough. But you’re already offering him an equally flustered smile with the tip of your ears turning red before you’re waving shyly and tittering off to the hall.

Jungkook blinks, and a hand reaches to touch his cheek.

He looks up, and groans—because how the hell was he going to survive high school now?

[wofworld]

It’s time for another controversial (?) opinion about Arcane! This one is kinda half-baked tbh, full of random tangents and some oversharing about my personal life, but I don’t really care, because there is a character my brain has suddenly decided I really need to talk about right now- Mylo.

Now, full disclosure- I really did not like Mylo at first, and I’m not quite sure if I do even now- he reminds me of a lot of people I have bad memories with, so I was hesitant to open up to him as a character at first. But one thing is certain; all opinions aside, it is completely, and absurdly unfair how much the fandom villainizes him. Mylo was a child, just like the rest of them, and even disregarding the fact that the way he teased Powder was more of a sibling-banter type thing rather than any kind of serious harassment, it’s clear that none of his actions towards her overall held actual malicious intent- that he didn’t really mean to hurt her, or think it would have that big of an effect. He was just irritated and jealous, and I dare say, he had the right to be. As someone who relates heavily to Powder as well as the way that she reacts to her environment, I understand how she must’ve felt whenever Mylo belittled her that way, but we, as the viewers, still need to understand that we are viewing this story through Powder’s perspective- through the lense of a young, and highly sensitive person. Therefore, her interpretation of the events may be different from the way they actually unfolded, seeing as the story doesn’t exactly offer every point of view possible. When Mylo called her a jinx, he was taking his own frustrations out on Powder, who was, in fact, partially to blame. That was still a bad thing to do, for various reasons, but implying that he did it specifically to push her buttons or to make her feel insecure is just taking that entire situation out of context. I may not like him very much, but c’mon, Mylo deserves better than the way most of this fandom treats him.

[the-ghost-king]

Boundary Setting, Tone Policing, and Abuse:

I've been trying to figure out how to word some of these ideas for a while so stumbling across these gems has been very helpful. These resources tend to covers 1:1 interactions but I feel the information is still applicable to larger scales and therefore useful to a variety of people beyond what it presents as its target demographic.

This conversation functions off the logic that all individuals involved in a certain situation are not dangerous and have good intentions but have ideas, words, and concepts weaponized against them.

Please also note that abuse is not an action that happens once, that is a mistake. Abuse is a pattern or series of repeated events in which the same harm is repeated by an individual or group against another individual or group.

Love bombing, gas lighting, and the problem with pathologising dating talk by James Greig covers an issue that has become increasingly more common across the internet as a whole through the lense of dating. The issue in question is the misuse of social justice language and into situations where it is unnecessary or to extreme and waters down the words making them ineffective at communicating the ideas they were originally intended to.

Think of the evolution in the use of the word "triggered" and the following negative effects of such a situation on the lifes of traumatized people(s) trying to gain accessibility and safety across many spaces, most specifically but not limited to the internet.

One can be accidentally abusive but not accidentally manipulative. "Love bombing" is something that requires malicious intent on behalf of the other person to be performed; yet neglect is a form of abuse, and often is not driven by the intent to harm the other but instead lack of ability to see the other.

This is where the problem of co-opting social justice terms comes in, "Boundary Setting vs Tone Policing" by Miri has some important commentary on the specifics of this:

Another large issue in this situation as I mentioned before is "intent vs impact" and how this exists in regards to ones relationship with others. Even if you do not intend to hurt someone, to what degree are you responsible for that hurt anyhow? And to what degree does the situation require the other person remove themselves/manage their own emotions better?

In addition because of one's tendency to view oneself as "the victim" an individual causing harm to others may not even realize they're doing so and may think their actions* are justified or be unaware they're in the wrong.

Combine that with the fact that they have been abused or experience abuse, the fact that the individual may not realize such or may not realize certain tactics that have been used on them in their past are abusive, now combine that with social justice and puritanical morality and you have a recipe that is more likely to end in disaster than success.

Weighted on the metaphorical back of these entire arguments are peoples lives, and because of the intersection of modern social justice with purity culture- their morality.

It's how content and people become irredeemable for minor mistakes or by becoming dated/old. It is also how the word critical comes to mean not "evaluating complex things in a complex way that intends to look at the multifaceted depictions within those things" but instead "this thing does bad thing therefore this thing is bad". Critical or the act of being critical becomes a signal of morality more so than an action individuals actually partake in, and when individuals subsequently do take part in criticism. In addition to this there is a community moral policing that occurs in communities where critical is a signal of morality, in which there is an acceptable opinion/summary to derive from criticism.

If we can seperate good and bad people by their beliefs (this is tied to the concepts of sinning and salvation) then people feel comfortable using whatever means and tactics necessary on someone listed as "bad" simply because they are part of an out group. It's a subtle act of dehumanizing others; if someone is bad then they are lesser and therefore whatever treatment they receive is reason or even maybe justified, is how the logic goes. Anyone who helps this person is aligned with this "badness" and subsequently also becomes a bad person, by association.

This person is never able to seperate themselves from previous ignorance or lack of knowledge again, and is always marked "unclean" (and unsafe) in some way by virtue of their mistake or misstep.

Hence why these situations often lead to people deleting their accounts and not returning, committing suicide, and more. It's a system with punishment (very intense punishment) with no rehabilitation.

In doing this we not only ignore important conversations about intent vs impact but also we accept that these are acceptable boundaries. A problem in activism is when one argues for the correct ideas without being required to enact these ideas in their own life.

As an example, prison systems are known for being flawed, especially those in the US and we know that the solution to many of these issues is creating a culture of rehabilitating with in these spaces. So that instead of simply punishing and further harming people, we have people ready to enter back into society and to have a lower chance of returning. Someone who argues for prison reform but in turn applies the same tactics they are against when it suits their own benefits has not taken the necessary time to work through their own biases (and neither has everyone who 1) misses this point in that persons posts/beliefs or 2) those who don't speak up for a reason unrelated to their well being/safety).

Just to clarify my stance further, more from Miri's article:

The article outlines on how to handle these situations yourself and determine what is happening in order to more effectively self bias check which is a useful skill in such situations:

Additional measures we have to determine is what constitutes as public vs private space- and while on social media someone posting to their own page or account is "their space" how responsible should they have to be in what they post? What constitutes as defamation? What constitutes as harassment. This article doesn't seek to answer those questions, but it's not an outcast idea either but a step further along in the discussion.

In addition we must ask ourselves where the line between venting, calling out, and vagueing when something moves from one thing to another- is it tone policing to tell someone off for venting about a specific individual that is easily findable? Does it constitute as a call out if you post what they've said and others find and cause harm to that person? What happens when you imply something negative about another or that they're doing something wrong, yet it's still traceable back to them? Does that count as vagueing? If you repost what someone else said and add on, is someone telling you off for so then tone policing? Does it matter if your additions were serious vs humor? Does it matter if the joke is at the expense of what was said vs the person being talked about? When do we cross the line between criticism and mockery? And does mocking someones interests, what they create, or thoughts constitute as mocking them?

The reason for this is because we are only able to set boundaries on things that constitute as ourselves, or connect to ourselves. From another of Miri's articles:

This means in order to determine where ones influence on a situation ends we must define what constitutes as property of an individual. Does reposting their own post to criticize it (whatever that may look like) constitute as commentary on the individual themselves? In all contexts or just some? What about in a social justice context?

*the post uses the term manipulator to describe the individual perpetuating the behavior. I do not think everyone who does these actions always does so with the intention to harm or unnecessarily gain high ground, I do genuinely think there are some people who think these are the methods to solve these issues. That is not manipulation that is ignorance, and ignorance can breed hate and therefore subsequent abuse/abusive tactics. This ties into intent vs impact and how people can "accidentally" be abusive.

my other post on these concepts, educational activism, and online harassment campaigns

[kopikokun]

Snack Run with a Snack༄ j.jh

↳ On your usual movie night with the members, they assign you sudden snack collecting duty. You’re a little peeved, but at least Jaehyun offers to tag along. Unfortunately for you, things really aren’t going in your favour tonight.

pairing: idol!jaehyun x camera operator!reader (feat. johnny, jungwoo & doyoung)

genre: fluff, comedy, co-workers to lovers

warning(s): expletives

word count: 3526 words

☽༓･*˚⁺‧͙ 𝗽𝗹𝗮𝘆𝗹𝗶𝘀𝘁: crush (souly had) ✧ mango love (shawn wasabi, satica) ✧ make you feel pretty (lovelytheband)

Request 39: Jaehyun x Staff!Reader during movie night where she’s an extrovert and is close to all of the members.

← BACK TO NAVI.

— 𝐫𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐬 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐜𝐥𝐨𝐬𝐞𝐝.

Your fortnightly movie nights are always something you anticipate eagerly, no matter how frequent or repetitive they may be. It’s always nice being able to take a breather from the grievous monotony of your daily schedule to just kick back and—essentially—do nothing. You know the rest of the members cherish these ephemeral moments too, because despite all odds, they’ll valiantly try to show up and join you, or at the very least make an appearance. Once, Ten had even barged in, still with his extensions intact.

    To be fair, you’re not any better. When you heard that Jaehyun was participating the other day, you had dropped all other priorities just to come over. Safe to say, your roommate was not pleased seeing the state of the abandoned living room.

    Your vision sweeps the perimeter of the room. Usually, it’s packed to full capacity, but there are only four others here besides you today.

    “The glasses.” Doyoung purses his lips, planting his stare on a startled Jungwoo. “Where are the glasses? I thought I told you to get them?”

    Jungwoo smacks a hand to his mouth, the sound of skin against skin so loud that you wince on his behalf. “It totally slipped my mind. Honest to God. I got sidetracked.” He clasps your—an innocent bystander’s—shoulder with such force that you physically jolt forward. Jungwoo flashes you his signature million dollar smile.“Hey, could you be a dear and help me out? I still haven’t decided what movie we should watch tonight.”

    “Yeah, sure.” You grimace, already turning on your heel, mumbling, “You didn’t have to hit me.”

    “Thanks!” he calls after you. “And sorry!”

    His voice cuts through the hurried chattering between Jaehyun and Johnny which comes into earshot as you step into the kitchen. Their mouths move at the speed of bullet trains and Jaehyun’s hands flutter around his pensive face frantically. Maybe it’s the rose-tinted lenses, but the sight endears you. The slightest of chuckles escapes your lips at his delirium.

    Their bodies seize, their zealous conversation slipping into a steady silence.

    “What’s wrong?” you smirk. “Were you guys talking about me?”

    “No,” Jaehyun snaps, so quickly that it almost prickles. “Why would we be talking about you?”

    “Ouch,” you pout, masquerading the sting with a frivolous cadence . “How mean.”

    “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it like that,” he says. “What are you doing here? I thought you were, uh, clearing the table?” There’s a nervous edge to Jaehyun’s voice which insinuates that he knows something you don’t.

    “I was, but then Jungwoo asked me to get the glasses in his stead since he’s too busy fussing over which movie we should watch.”

    Johnny laughs. “I should go help him out then, or he’ll be stuck on the selection page for ages.” He pats Jaehyun’s back as he leaves. “Don’t make a fool of yourself.”

    You toss an inquisitive glance at Jaehyun. He turns away, cheeks blooming with colour.

    Admittedly, you’re more than intrigued by what Jaehyun had been so ardently conversing about. A small part of you whispers the possibility of it being you, and your heart soars. Now you’re the one getting sidetracked. Of course, you are. This is one of the rare moments you and Jaehyun have shared alone. Although you see him almost daily, there’s always someone closeby; a fellow staff or member of the group. And while you’d consider yourself someone who thrives in social situations, there’s nothing more you desire than a few seconds in solitude with the charming man.

   You swing the plywood cupboard door open, extinguishing your idle delusions, the handle cool in your grasp. Three shelves greet your vision; each stuffed full with either miscellaneous tableware or seldom used kitchen utensils. You spot the mug you gave Mark for his birthday collecting dust in the corner and scoff bitterly. And he said it’s his ‘favourite mug’.

    Your face screws in bewilderment. Usually, the glasses are graciously arranged on the bottom shelf; easily accessible for the people who are less gifted in the height department (namely you). Strangely, today they are at the very top, shoved deep inside, so far in that you’d think that it had been done with malicious intent. If they were in the middle, perhaps you could’ve reached them with a little extra effort, but given their current position, even on your tiptoes you wouldn’t even come close. The tips of your fingers barely graze the bottom portion of the glass. You huff.

    “Do you need help?”

    Your head swivels to see a clearly humoured Jaehyun, his eyebrow arched.

   “Yeah, someone’s kept the glasses on the top shelf,” you grumble, tenaciously continuing to reach for them despite knowing that you and your height—or rather, lack of it—have been bested. “Must’ve been Johnny. The tall-ass.”

    “You’re probably right. It wouldn’t be his first time either.” You groan in exertion. “Hold on, let me help.”

    “Thanks, Jae—”

    Your eyes widen and your stature stiffens. Just the smell of his aftershave is enough to knock you out.

    Jaehyun’s chest presses against your back firmly. His hot breath tickles your neck; the fine hairs stand on end. His right arm, hugged in the most breathtaking way by a black sweatshirt, reaches forward while his left is planted on the counter in front of you, caging you in. You’ve done your fair share of ogling at Jaehyun’s more than ravishing physique before, but only from afar. At this proximity however, you can individually trace every vein on his forearm. They’re like roots branching across the ample muscle. God, you’re making it very apparent that you’re staring.

    While probably not the most proficient, you don’t dispute this method of reaching for glasses. You’re sure Jaehyun knows there are better ways to do this too.

    Stunned, you all but stare in what you can only describe as awe at Jaehyun’s side-profile. Sharp lines accentuated by peculiarly delicate features, you can’t help but imagine how it would feel like running your fingers over the curves of his cheekbones, the arch of his nose and the dip of his cupid’s bow.

    Jaehyun’s gaze latches onto yours, his arm still hanging above your head. You swallow dryly before licking your lips. Jaehyun’s jaw clenches, the movement guiding his eyes to them. The counter is digging into your hip.

    “I got the glasses,” he breathes, your vicinity means you can practically taste the mint on his tongue.

    “Thanks,” you mumble.

    Neither of you move farther or closer to each other.

    Jaehyun places the glasses beside you. “I should probably go set up the projector now.”

    “Yeah, you should.” No, don’t.

    He nods curtly, prods the inside his cheek with his tongue and shuffles out of the kitchen. You lean on the counter, recomposing yourself. Your heart pounds in your ribcage. Jaehyun’s lingering aftershave muddles any chance of a coherent thought.

    What was that?

    Sure, over the past week or two, you and Jaehyun have made your ever augmenting attraction to one another remarkably tangible, but neither of you had acted upon it. Until now.

    Dazed, you almost forget to do what you had initially come in here for. You have to literally turn a 180 to retrieve the five glasses which sit innocuously on the countertop; they lay witness to your sins.

    “So, how’d it go?”

    “Did you do it?”

    “Well, technically no, but—”

    The four men are huddled together in the middle of the living room, each with equally suspicious expressions carved into their faces. Jaehyun’s back is turned to you as he’s hunched over, almost like he’s sharing some petty gossip.

    You set the glasses down on the communal dining table, shift your weight on one leg and perch your hands on your hips like a disgruntled teacher waiting for her class to fall silent. Doyoung is first to sense your presence, nudging Johnny and jutting his chin towards you.

    You can’t suppress the snort that courses through you when—simultaneously—all four of them disperse. It looks almost rehearsed.

    “Why are you guys acting so weird today?”

   Johnny sputters, Jungwoo chokes on presumably his own spit, Doyoung makes a sound which resembles more of a wheeze than a cough, and Jaehyun’s body goes completely rigid.

    “We’re not acting weird,” scoffs Johnny.

    You’re unconvinced. Just the way the whole room was immediately shrouded in a thick cloud of tension at your question was very telling.

    “Yes, you ar—”

    “Alright then,” Jaehyun clasps both of his hands together like a middle-aged man in the midst of a conference, “the movie! Jungwoo, what did you pick this week?”

    Jungwoo hammers a fist to his heaving chest. “I picked Jojo Rabbit.”

    “Oh, Minji noona watched it the other day. She told me it was so good she cried,” Johnny says. “And she rarely—if ever—cries over movies, or anything, really.”

    “Why didn’t she and the others come over today? They’re always here for movie night.” By the others, you’re referring to the rest of the staff who are usually present. Being more or less the same age, the members naturally gravitated towards the rest of you; your closeness in years meant that you could easily relate to one another. You’d consider yourself a decently convivial person as well, which was probably another fundamental factor.

    Once again, a restless fog congests the room. You seem to have struck another nerve.

    Jungwoo tightens his grip on the remote. “They were… busy.”

    His spontaneous lie is deplorable at best, but you let it slide.

    You assume they think your conjectures have diffused because they seem to share a relieved glance; Jaehyun casts an appreciative smile to the bunch. He clears his throat. You don’t miss the mental exchange between him and Johnny, who grins wittingly.

    “How about the snacks?”

    All eyes are on you.

    Your eyebrows cinch. “What?”

    “The snacks,” Jungwoo reiterates. “You’re on snack duty.”

    The way he says it makes it sound like you were aware of this. “No, I’m not.”

    “Yeah, we told you in the groupchat,” Doyoung says. Jungwoo seems to be restraining a smile.

    “No, you in fact, did not.” Scorned by this blatant accusation, you begin fishing your phone from your front pocket to show the others that none of you had come to that agreement.

    Jaehyun’s hand coils around your wrist, halting your movements. “I’ll come.”

    “I’m sorry?”

    “I’ll come along with you to get the snacks,” his grip loosens, “if you want me to.”

    “Oh.” Your arm falls limp to your side. You study Jaehyun’s earnest gaze. “Sure.”

    It’s painfully palpable that the rest of the group were expecting this; their lips curling with a smirk of gaiety.

    “Great, I’ll go grab some cash.”

You really should have thought twice about letting Jaehyun tag along.

    “You should’ve stayed at home.”

    “I wanted to come.”

    You’re reasonably terrified, both for you and Jaehyun’s sake. Getting recognised out in public is an all too plausible scenario, and you really do not have the resolve or strength to fend off a horde of fans right now.

    “Relax, it’s like 11pm. Nobody’s going to be just walking out here. At least, not anybody sober.”

    While he makes a valid point, you’re still skittish. “Alright, but keep your head down.”

    “How will I see where I’m going?”

    Collecting your wits, you reach for his hand to tug him forward. “I’ll lead the way.”

    Though Jaehyun is more than capable of staying grounded in his spot, you drag him along with relative ease, like a lifeless rag doll.

    “I… was just kidding.”

    Not looking back, you say, “Does that mean you want me to let go of your hand?”

    Brazenly, Jaehyun intertwines his fingers with yours, strengthening his palm’s embrace. A jolt of exaltation zips up your spine.

    “No, don’t.”

    The remainder of the brisk walk to the convenience store is spent in exhilarating quietude, one that conveys a hundred messages. Not once does Jaehyun’s hold of your hand weaken.

    The intimacy of the store welcomes you wholeheartedly. From its single constantly flickering bulb, that one cooler door with the rickety handle, and to the out-of-order slushie machine, you could peruse this store with your eyes closed. Being NCT’s camera operator first and designated snack buyer second, you’ve been in here more times than anyone should ever have to be in a lifetime.

    It’s not the most popular store on the block. Their selection is limited, their interior outdated, but in your humble opinion, they are leagues ahead of any other store out there. Plus, it’s usually vacant, meaning minor risk of being spotted. Other than you, Jaehyun and the single weary employee, there’s only one other person in here, a tattered hood draped over their head. While they’re sketchy in a certain sense, you’re confident that they don’t pose a threat to you or Jaehyun’s safety.

    “I’ll go get the crisps and you get the chocolates,” you declare, standing on your tiptoes.

    “Chocolates? We’re getting chocolates? We already have some in the fridge.”

    “Okay, then I’m getting chocolates.”

Another reason you love this place to bits is because of its prices. Everything is outrageously cheap. The first time you had visited, wet behind the ears, soul bursting with vigour yet pockets embarrassingly empty, you almost cried. You had one of the best dinners of your early adult life in this very store. Sure, it was just a truckload of processed, packaged food, but here’s the thing: it was a truckload. And when you’re as financially stable as a thumbtack balancing on the tip of its point, a truckload of food is a blessing bestowed by the Gods.

    So, safe to say, you and Jaehyun definitely got your money’s worth.

    In fact, in the time the two of you expended scouring the aisles for tid-bits, a forlorn cloud had consumed the sky. It had started raining. Lightly at first, but the drizzle had swiftly transitioned into a furious storm.

    Thunder claps in the distance, the sound so tumultuous it shakes the tiles of the store floor, the vibrations so intense they reach the tip of your head.

    “Do you have enough money for an umbrella?” you ask.

    “Even with an umbrella, I think it’d be too dangerous for us to go out there,” Jaehyun says, and as if to illustrate his point, another bolt of lightning strikes the Earth. The convenience store trembles. “And no, I don’t have enough money for an umbrella.” From the tone of Jaehyun’s voice, his delight is hidden by the pretense that he too is upset by this development.

    “Then I guess we’ll have to call one of the guys to pick us up.”

    Jaehyun’s expression immediately turns sour. “I mean, yeah… I guess we could.”

    Under normal circumstances, you would have been pouncing at the opportunity to spend some quality one-on-one time with Jaehyun, alas, three other undoubtedly starving men are waiting for your return.

    A long, dull white counter, meant for customers to sit and eat at faces the heavy gloom outside. Droplets of rain cling to the glass like fluorescent crystals embedded to cave caverns, before slipping down in a wavering trickle, racing each other to the bottom. You take a seat on one of the plastic stools and Jaehyun takes the one beside you, dropping the bag of snacks to the floor.

    “Hello?” Johnny’s sonorous voice greets through your speakers.

    Jaehyun stares at you, anguished. To his right, the hooded stranger from earlier slips into the third stool, leaning forward and shelving their chin on a palm. They stare outside the window.

    “Hey, Johnny. We got the snacks, but Jaehyun and I have a separate problem.”

    “I know. It’s pouring.”

    “Exactly,” you nod. Jaehyun looks like he’s about to crumble into a heap of anxiety. “Can you pick us up? We don’t have enough cash to hail a taxi.”

    There’s a commotion on the other side of the line; hushed discussion and rustling of fabric. You can’t pick up a lot, only the words, “Yeah.” and “So, that’s what we’ll say?”

    “Sorry,” Johnny finally says, after much delay. “I can’t.”

    “What do you mean you can’t?”

    Beside you, Jaehyun visibly perks.

    “Car’s being repaired,” he replies languidly. “Mark popped a tyre while learning to drive the other day.”

    You groan. “You’re joking.”

    “Dead serious.”

    “God, the car just had to be out today of all days.”

    “Sorry, it can’t be helped,” Johnny sighs, a twinge of mischief to his voice. “The matter’s out of my hands.”

    “It’s fine. We’ll just… wait it out or something.”

    “We’ll try and see if any of the others can swing by and pick you guys up, so just stay put for now.”

    “Alright thanks, Johnny. Sorry about tonight.”

    “Nah, it’s fine,” he says. “Have fun with Jae.”

    The call ends with a click before you can probe Johnny further.

    “No go?” Jaehyun chirps.

    You shake your head. “No, though you don’t seem bummed out about it.”

    “Yeah,” he shrugs. “It’s not often I can spend some time alone with you anyway. In a way, I’m glad.” You bite the flesh of your cheek, face turning hot. Jaehyun turns in his seat, reaching down for the plastic bag. “And, we have snacks to—”

    His eyebrows furrow.

    “Jae?” His adam’s apple bobs in his throat. “The snacks?”

    “They’re… gone.”

    “What?”

    “I put them right here beside me, but they’re gone! I swear I—”

    The bell above the door chimes as the mysterious figure—the one who had been sat beside Jaehyun mere seconds ago—dashes out, with, lo and behold, a very familiar plastic bag dangling in their grasp.

    You point a finger towards them. “They stole our snacks!”

    Jaehyun’s head whips around to gawk at the culprit who has already made their way out of the store, head-first into Mother Nature’s wrath. He leaps out of his seat, hell-bent on chasing the person down, practically foaming at the mouth. “Motherfucker—”

    This time, you’re the one who grips his wrist. “Jaehyun, wait. It’s not worth it.”

    “They just stole all of our snacks! Am I supposed to just watch them get away with them?” he seethes. If not for his genuinely fuming expression, you would’ve laughed at the absurdity of the situation.

    “They already had a head-start, Jae. I doubt you’ll be able to chase them down. And what if someone sees you? How are we supposed to explain why Jung Jaehyun of NCT was sprinting in the rain after a stranger with a bag of snacks?”

    His shoulders sag. “But… our snacks… and your chocolate! What about your chocolate?”

    “It’s fine. I didn’t even get the version I liked. They were all out of the original ones.”

    Jaehyun slumps back into his seat, defeated. “Should we call the police?”

    You snicker. “And tell them our snacks got stolen? They’d laugh in our faces.”

    “I hate that you’re right. I wish they’d treat snack theft with the same severity of other crimes,” he jests, despite still being obviously disheartened. “Hope whoever that was gets struck by lightning and fucking sizzles out there.” He cards a hand through his hair. “I’m sorry.”

    “It wasn’t your fault, Jae. I mean, who the hell steals snacks anyway?”

    “No, not that. Well, I am sorry about that but what I meant was... I screwed this up.”

    “Screwed what up?”

    “You know how everyone was acting really strangely today?”

    “You guys weren’t being very secretive about it.”

    He huffs out a laugh. “Yeah, well, it was because they were helping me get us alone.”

    Jaehyun’s confession is like the final piece of a puzzle; the final thread to connect all the dots together. “So that explains why everyone collectively decided to not show up today, and why the glasses were on the top shelf, and why you guys said I was on snack duty when I clearly wasn’t! And I bet the car isn’t even busted too!”

    He nods, a wry smile etched onto his lips. “The glasses weren’t actually a part of the plan, but in the end, they were in my favour, so I’m not pissed about it.” You flush as the memory floods you. “They did all of that, and yet I still blew it.”

    “Who said you blew it?” you say. Jaehyun lifts his head to look at you. “We’re alone right now, aren’t we?”

    He swipes his tongue over his teeth. “Well, yeah, I suppose we are.”

    “So, just tell me you like me already.”

    Jaehyun jerks back in his seat. “You knew?”

    “Of course I knew,” you grin, “because, I like you too.”

    His face breaks out into the widest smile possible; one that stretches his lips so much that it must ache. “You do?”

    “Yes, I do,” you giggle. “Even though you got our snacks stolen.”

    By the time you two make it back to the dorm, clothes dripping rainwater onto the carpet, lips swollen from stolen kisses, and smiles teeming with euphoria, the rest of the street is already dark. Johnny, Jungwoo and Doyoung greet you with knowing smiles and playful comments.

    “Look, I’m super happy for you guys and stuff but,” Jungwoo gestures to your empty hands, “where the hell are the snacks?”

[reallyprofoundkryptonite]

16

Hiccup and Krogan are capured by Viggo and Johann, after an intense incident. To force information out of Hiccup, Viggo has a little fun with Krogan.

CW: Swearing, Rape/Non-Con, Drugging

“You think you have any right to withhold information from me, traitor?” Viggo hissed at Krogan. Johann stood off to the side of Krogan and Viggo, watching, eyebrows raised.

“He doesn’t have to tell you anything!” Hiccup snapped, wiggling in his bindings.

Krogan glances at him, eyes wide.

“Oh, Hiccup, maybe he won’t, but you might have to,” Viggo fingered at Krogan’s chin, running his hands along the man’s throat, before he gently rubbed fingers into Krogan’s cheek.

Viggo purred at Krogan’s desperate lean away from him, eyes wild.

“I hope you don’t mind me borrowing his ass for now,” Viggo glanced over at him, grinning maliciously. “I know how you probably use him.”

Hiccup narrowed his eyes at him, and Viggo chuckled deeply.

“Oh, Hiccup, do not be like that!” Viggo wrapped his arm around Krogan’s bare shoulders. Krogan shied away from the touch. “I think we all know what Krogan was used for by Drago,” he fingered the brand on Krogan’s chest.

Krogan shrieked, and he kicked at Viggo’s leg, snarling.

Viggo stumbled back, glaring at Krogan, who inclined his head at him, his upper lip pulling back to reveal sharp, white teeth.

“I was not an ass slave!” He yowled. “How many times do I need to say it to get through that thick, dense, skull of yours, Viggo?” Krogan cried.

Hiccup blinked at Krogan.

“Krogan, calm down, you’re okay.” He said. “They’re coming, don’t worry.”

“Oh, Hiccup, I’m afraid they won’t find either of you for a while.” Johann sneered, crossing his arms.

Hiccup glared at the man.

“The only traitor here is you, Johann.” Hiccup snarled. “You and your foolish, idiotic lies.”

Krogan gave a small, humorless laugh, his eyes shimmering with mirth.

“Viggo, take as much time as you need with Krogan.” Johann instructed. “If Hiccup knows what is good for him, he will understand that he needs to give up the information about the lenses so that the pain to his dear new friend can stop.”

Krogan thrashed in his chains, arching his back, as Viggo moved closer to Krogan. Hiccup’s eyes widened, as he watched Johann leave the cell, slamming the door shut before Hiccup could do anything about it.

When he turned back to look at Krogan, the man was calmly staring at him.

He quietly shook his head, pleading with his eyes, as Viggo gently began to undo his belt.

“Hiccup, please,” Krogan gasped. “I can withstand it, I’ll be fine. Don’t give them anything!”

Viggo pulled Krogan’s pants down, and then his undergarments.

“What to do first,” the man purred. “Humiliation, maybe?” Viggo gave a small chuckle.

“Oh, that sounds wonderful; your dear new friend seeing you being treated like a little boy who got in trouble?” Viggo asked, grabbing Krogan by the throat. Krogan only grinned at the man.

“Jokes on you, Grimborn,” He sneered. “I’m into that shit.” his grin widened at the look of disgust that curled at Viggo’s features.

Hiccup chuckled slightly. Krogan was toying with Viggo.

“Oh yeah, I found out about that the hard way,” Hiccup chimed in. “He’s more than receptive to punishment.”

Krogan glared down at Viggo, cocking his head to the side. He knew where this was going, and he was excited about it.

Viggo narrowed his eyes, and he smacked Krogan; hard, across the face. Krogan bit his lip to stop himself from making any noise, but before he could react, Viggo was burying his fist into Krogan’s exposed stomach.

For some reason, though, the hit didn’t seem to phase Krogan, and instead, he promptly kicked Viggo in the stomach powerfully, knocking the man to the ground.

Viggo fell with a grunt, but he quickly got to his feet.

“What, are you not used to the people you’re torturing fighting back,” Krogan sneered down at him. “You burnt ass lobster looking motherfucker!”

Viggo’s brow twitched downwards at Hiccup’s chuckle.

“I have to say, Krogan is quite creative with his insults, isn’t he, Viggo!” Hiccup crowed, and Viggo glared at him.

Viggo grasped ahold of Krogan’s member, and then he roughly tugged on it.

Krogan gave a small gasp, moving his head away from Viggo.

The other man grinned.

“Oh, but I am not the one with his most sensitive parts exposed,” Viggo crooned. He grabbed onto the chains holding Krogan up, and then he yanked on them, the pulleys sending Krogan onto his knees.

He’d been restrained; barely on his toes for hours, and it had gotten to him.

Hiccup’s eyes widened minutely, and then he looked to the door, fidgeting with his ropes.

He looked back, watching Viggo slowly removing his own belt, and then dropping it to the ground.

“You are going to suck me off,” Viggo sneered. “If you bite me at all; if I feel any teeth, at all, I am cutting out your tongue.”

Krogan looked up at Viggo with a snarl, his eyes narrowing in rage.

“Wouldn’t you rather break me first, master?” Krogan snarled back, raising his head. “Maybe I wouldn’t get the urge to slice that little cock off with my teeth then.”

Hiccup winced, as Krogan was punched, hard, in the side of the head. Krogan dropped to his side, onto his hands, gasping.

Viggo lifted him up again by his hair; or the little bit of hair Krogan had; he kept it short, probably for this reason, Hiccup mused.

Krogan gasped and struggled, rattling his chains wildly.

Hiccup set his jaw, as Krogan glanced over at him, blinking quickly. And then, Viggo pulled his pants, and undergarments down himself.

“Open up.” Viggo snapped. Krogan quickly gazed up at him, baring his teeth again. Viggo’s free hand reached down, and yanked Krogan up by the neck, twisting his arms behind his back painfully.

Krogan gasped, and that was all it did for Viggo to slide in, humming.

“Oh, finally, you can’t talk back,” He snarled. “An added benefit is that those lips of yours are just divine.

Krogan struggled weakly, as Viggo let go, and thrusted up into Krogan.

Krogan gagged, opening his mouth as wide as he could to try and stop Viggo’s shaft from brushing against his teeth.

Viggo moaned softly. Krogan’s tongue licked out over the underside of Viggo’s dick, pulling a soft groan from the man.

Viggo gently pulled on Krogan’s head, pulling his member half out, before he shoved it back in again, by pushing Krogan’s head back down again.

Hiccup looked away. Krogan choked and gagged on Viggo’s dick; it was sickening.

Krogan’s eyes could be felt on him, but Hiccup didn’t look back, not until Krogan gagged again; a final time, and Viggo gave a sharp cry.

Viggo pulled out of Krogan’s mouth. Krogan spit up cum and saliva, as he carefully continues to eye Hiccup.

Krogan’s gaze isn’t hostile, but as it turns back to stare at Viggo, it does turn into being hostile; growing angry and violent.

“Hmm, since you haven’t talked yet, maybe…” Viggo pulled a small vial out of his chestplate. The fluid shimmered and glowed in the vial.

“I’ve been wanting to try this for some time.” Krogan glared at Viggo harshly.

Hiccup narrowed his eyes. An explosion rattled the rooms around them, and Viggo snarled, opening the vial with a smirk. He stuck his finger into Krogan’s mouth, and pried it open.

He forced it down Krogan’s throat. Krogan gagged, and arched away from him, his body trembling heavily. It seemed the effects were instant, as Krogan’s pupils turned into pinpricks.

His eyes began glowing a soft shade of lavender, as Krogan slowly looked up at Viggo, his eyes narrowing.

He bared his teeth, growling lowly.

Hiccup blinked.

“Krogan?” he asked slowly.

When the man’s gaze snapped over to him, Krogan was not in those eyes. There was a monster in his place.

[michaelevans27]

I've got to leak somewhere at this point regardless of the vulnerability of the dodgy 1 way mirror that can exist. When you're in a position of trust with another person and depth of entanglement and deliberate growth around and with someone and yet consistently have the vines of life leave the sunlight and spread sidewards and pull the sweet fruits/berries into the shade or start to find this vine you are building with help question where you can flourish and blossom it leaves you with so much uncertainty with what you have left when the growth works to pull apart. Sometimes plants have to be seperated for the benefit of their respective health. Sometimes they take too much of each other's sun or they struggle to work synchronously. Sometimes plants will grow and find themselves tangled again. Vines and gardens and plants all beautiful but all unable to know their own needs. It takes a skilled gardener to know what's best and sometimes even then it's not an absolute.

Humans are not plants, we are far more complicated, we are filled with emotion, judgement, issues and conscious thought. Who are we to know what in the fuck we want? How are we supposed to trust in others when we can't even trust our own opinion or struggle to form one? Whether through my own twisted lense of perception, gaslighting or struggles and moments of first experiences and dealings with the many complications to any moment with many people and feelings and topics all that came to my mind was feeling like a robot like maybe my emotions aren't with as much depth or good enough or come out wrong. Yet without the comparison of the past and the need to be clear and therefore properly understood, with the simple and only requirement being to myself... well it doesn't get easier to know your own thoughts but at least it's clearer the depth and strength of feelings one has. The kind of feelings that make you question what feelings are and how you might interpret them.

The ones that are so fiercely strong that you can't tell if you're angry because you're upset or upset because you're angry, whether you're upset because you're thinking about a happiness or upset because you're thinking about the pain, the kind of feelings that tell you you're an idiot for not protecting yourself sooner while also telling you that you ought to not need to protect and all emotions and thoughts between. They say pain makes you stronger but they fail to ever say how it makes you stronger. How one converts or ignites strength from or through the pain, whether pain is to be replaced or forgotten or constant. At what point do you stick true to who you are or maybe were, possibly either foolishly trusting and quick to do so whimsically or refreshing and positively quick in trusting or maybe even both at once since it comes with benefits and goodness but through enough exposure and unfortunate chance you'll be able to have it taken advantage of.

Are there any right answers in the end? Any correct paths to take? In such a perfectionist world high on emotions low in patience and so particular and picky in tastes will there be any humanity able to step back and be hopeful but not condemnful? Any chance of understanding and fair expectations while not sacrificing oneself and not settling for less than ideal but the composure and treatment one would hope in return in this world? I want to be myself, my ideal self in this world, the young man with dreams to do it all and be around for all, to be interactive and caring and trusting with all as I can be, to do as much as I can with my time and to build a pure family with no distances with energy to spread something further with cosiness and trust and openness I was so ready for all of that, I was so ready I took on more than I could, I rushed about the place, I grew tired and pulled in my sphere expanding from a quiet furnishing floater to much more too quickly. I saw my vision in even the worst of times even with each moment of collapse where it would feel like there was a poisonous atmosphere out to get me, with little mind of my mind but there was always enough to keep me going. Didn't matter whether it was external or internal when it mattered most it was internal, when my mind and opinion wavered on whether my feelings were in need internally if needed I'd smooth over and repair as best I could whether I was reckless and blind excusing the damage or smoothing over without the proper external material or against external or internal counterparts is a matter somewhat. What matters to me the most though is having a hold on understanding, ironic how often it can be to feel misunderstood and to not quite understand the new or unknown around you and yet worst of all not have enough perspective and capacity or perhaps too much of the capacity to think so much and not understand yourself.

So much blabber that might not make sense but ultimately it comes to this, I've felt deeply, and strongly regardless of how many times I've felt empty from depression and of the opinions of others. How do I know I've felt that strongly about something? Well for starters I already knew it in each moment where there was effortlessness and yet knowing the moments that had and would take all the effort which meant so little amounting to effortless when achieved. It was clear in the way I'd feel when things would seem to co-incide literally with moments that would match and I'd tell myself that it's a tie at a level deeper with fate, souls, voodoo whatever shit you can think of that becomes your own metaphor keeping minds and states and moments as one or close to one. It's so much more that told me so much about myself and my insides that it'd be a disservice and silly to bother for many reasons to go on.

The biggest thing that told me about the strength of my feelings and opened the Pandora box and decided to make me feel like I finally understood my robot belief and build the knowledge of not knowing what I know or feel or what to trust even within my feelings as to which is central rather than which is in control, the biggest thing that ripped it all open was playing to my biggest weakness, my desire to help anyone that needs it, especially those important to me. My eagerness to drop everything for now and focus on what matters to me most, being there for someone that I trust and I see as positive as a person who simply feeds that fuel of what's good and feeds into a future I know I can keep working for because those people can show me or make me feel there's a positive world and that I am not fighting against an ocean but a stream wide as you want but never endless. I trusted and eagerly took into place the most important and sacred and meaningful things to me in being there and I always will trust in even people that in now way or form have had a chance to earn it, but yet that trust was broken, it isn't often I let my upset take control of me, I keep my emotions in check as much as I can so I'm not hurting others because you can be upset and share upset without doing harm. The most important thing and pure thing I can ever feel like doing, something I struggled to do in moments that I was never prepared for, something I'd do without even noticing in smaller moments, something I do no matter the distance or the positional issues and yet my trust was taken freely advantageously whether maliciously or not, my feelings plain and simply feeling shit on all the while sharing the best of them freely.

Knowing what you truly are feeling and thinking, wanting or needing is hard enough on a basic unaltered state, figuring it out while having no real trust on your own understanding or trust in your ability to trust alongside the deservedness or maybe the potential usage of that trust is an entire different level. People will do all sorts of things in life and may change who they decide they'll be whether it follows their best version of themself, their best vision for themself or just what they feel they ought to be or can only be. There's no way of ever knowing whether someone is reaching out to you and asking how you are to simply do their part in the world, to spy on you and judge or wonder and simply update their info on you, potentially care about you, keep you at arms length as a controlled growth that's simply a body to have contact upon just due to having been part of their life or hell anything under the sun. There's no knowing if it's in your interest to respond and be accomadating to become the next generic and used person in their life that is simply kept up on tabs to know for the sake of knowing or if you'd be accomadating the a simple position where you'd be simply supplying gratification or comparison to their journey, maybe it's in your best interest to share with them regardless since it's progressive in some way? No idea what way or maybe through accomadating the asking of how you are and asking back it would do some good to them and you or even just good for them and it'd be better to do the non-selfish thing and likely what you'd want being good for them by helping them out by doing so but leaving yourself with no betterment from the exchange maybe even worse off. You're supposed to wish people well if you care about them but if you care about them that much don't you also know that it'll hurt ever knowing that would be a case.

Maybe I'm more emotional than I ever realised or maybe people would call me emotionally immature or say that I'm toxic or selfish to not immediately stray towards the most beneficial befitting accomadation of another but last time I did that it made me feel like an object a used object. When it's constantly on loop and stuck on your mind is their a reason? Is there a purpose or direction the universe is pushing you deliberately with all this stuff all these strong deep entrenched thoughts and feelings never giving any long pause of rest? Is it supposed to be a reason to go against in spite of it and trust and respond and engage or is it to follow and close up to, is it stupid to trust someone without constant proof and effort from them showing trust? Is it supposed to stick around and be the way it is for any connections made? Or is it a shitty curse among a strong memory that keeps so much in long term storage that never let's you forget anything. Am I supposed to avoid or forget about or hate or enjoy or be indifferent of little details that I couldn't forget even if I tried, should I be able to forget details. Thinking about it a robot was never a good representation of myself because it focused on a lack of or a disconnection with emotion, feeling miles away from emotion capable and shared by so many more normal people who fit into society or whatever dodgy society may be around, it didn't focus on the confusion of and difficulty with emotion, it didn't focus on the overly believing attitude the childlike expectancy to things working out no matter what and to everything being possible without any sacrifice, the sensitivity to even some violence and small issues among bigger moments thinking everything can be perfect with some ease the rarer of the idealistic over the top optimism moments. At least a robot can know or think and decide in a certain way. It will always make a decision based off of something and wouldn't be unsure of itself. At the end of the day I don't care about it's label because it's the outside world or the stagger into the dark that'll eventually tell me something about my thoughts even if it never comes or my mind is changed more than once. I do really hope it being the first birthday I'll be so seperate from that it'll somehow be as personal and enjoyable as any before, I wish I could somehow have any factor on it but I also wish I'd stop wishing because there's plenty of reason or stories I'm sure to explain that there's nothing good from such stuff being wished since it's at my own detriment maybe. I think that's enough to look back at and know roughly my own thoughts and hopefully give me some peace on it all for a while. Maybe I'll not have to use this ever again.

P.S Michael you might not even understand half the crap you're writing but at least it's been written also there's a wasp and who cares about readability or thinking more about this until it has a reason to be thought about more with a wasp

[lily-mj-fae]

Elain and Lucien and the Bond

So I have to comment on this again. I find myself frustrated. A lot of people only look at it through the skewed lenses of Feyre, Rhys, and all of the other mated pairs SJM has written. So before I begin let me preface this by saying a few things: 1) I do not hate Elucien. I am not against it becoming canon. I think there’s potential, but they have a long way to go. 2) While I am going to talk about Lucien in what I think might be perceived as a negative light, I do not hate him. I do not dislike him. I rather like him. But because so many people like him (and so many dislike/don’t care about Elain) they don’t look at how she might be perceiving things. 

So Let’s start with something that I think is important.

Elain is often criticized for not rejecting the bond. People won’t accept that there’s a possibility that she doesn’t know there might be more to it than the not one, but two times we see in canon (and possibly more if Feyre and her nosiness is any indication). I think there are two problems here.

Elain not knowing is very fitting for her at this time. While she’s taken steps to learn about and begin embracing Fae life, it’s very clear she’s still adjusting. And that’s OKAY. She has eternity more or less to figure shit out. (I also think it would have been okay for it to take Nesta longer to deal with her shit, even if i understand the intervention was for her own good). But because of her ended engagement (in which her fiance threw the bond in her face and told her she belonged to Lucien because of it) and her budding feelings for Azriel (Because whether you like it or not that’s there. And it’s okay), she likely doesn’t want to even think about the mating bond. Let alone learn more about it. She’s rejected the bond twice at least. And I think that it’s reasonable to her character to believe that’s that. Especially with keeping him at an arm’s length. She’s making no moves to further anything between them. That alone sounds like someone who isn’t interested. To his indirect actions, her indirect actions are equal.

Why is she the one responsible for handing the whole thing? Lucien is the one from the culture with mating bonds. He hasn’t asked her for anything. They expect Elain to be forthright with him about the bond, but not him with her? He could be straight forward with her. He could ask her; whether it be to give him an answer (probably not the ideal) or to at least spend time together and get to know each other. But he has just as much a responsibility to be direct with her, if he wants direct from her. 

Now. let’s talk about some of the other things.

I think that while Lucien might be kind of giving her space while also trying to build something, it’s important to note that from her perspective some of his actions might not come across that way. And while we as readers (and Elain probably does too) understand that Lucien is not doing anything maliciously, or with ill intent, she might feel like he is trying too hard. 

Her actions around him show she is uncomfortable. (I don’t care if the word uncomfortable hasn’t been used. Her actions show it). She keeps her distant. Only engages in polite conversation. And is eager for excuses to leave his company. Yet he still comes around, still asks for her company (which going back to how she was raised, she’s not likely to reject because it would be rude), and is giving her gifts while she clearly did not feel close enough to reciprocate. Whether you agree or not, it is possible that from her perspective he is giving her unwanted affection and ignoring what she likely thinks are clear signs of disinterest.

Between those things and the fact that she doesn’t return the gifts, people seem to think she’s leading him on. But she doesn’t use the gifts. And again, looking at how she was raised, it could be considered rude/unlady like to reject a gift. So she doesn’t. The only reason she didn’t keep Az’s was because he rejected her and told her them almost kissing was a mistake. But we know that she’s uncomfortable by the gifts. The “barely gave a thanks” draws to mind the image of someone who was given a gift they’re not a fan so they give that cringe/smile and say thanks in that tone that tries to sound happy but isn’t. 

Now maybe Elain isn’t being clear enough. Maybe Lucien isn’t noticing that. Maybe he is, but he’s holding on to hope to break through just enough that they can get to know one another.

My point here is that Elain’s perspective is equally important here. And that there are many things at play with these two. Yes, they’re going on two years of this nonsense. But it is not wholly to blame on Elain. They both play a part in it.

[angrycowboy]

So my original idea was to just tackle my thoughts on RNM’s portrayal of Michael Guerin’s bisexuality, which is something I have loved a lot. But then 2x06 aired, and we got some beautiful insight into Alex Manes, and I had to shift gears a bit to include that.

Because I know tensions regarding this episode are high, consider this a warning - I am going to talk about Michael and Alex, and a bit about the airstream scene in 2x06. And I am going to discuss how it has resonated with me in a positive way. But mostly, this is about how sexuality is complicated, and how amazing it is to see depictions on television that truly make me feel seen.

One of my favorite things about Michael Guerin, and about how RNM has chosen to portray his bisexuality, is that it’s not obvious. He doesn’t feel the need to talk about it, or discuss it - and in fact, only offers it up to Isobel in 1x10 as she’s questioning her own feelings in an effort to make her feel more comfortable. Later in 1x11, he snaps at Max because well, Max has just poked and prodded at him talk (and they’re stuck in the bunker together with nothing else to do). And someone who isn’t comfortable in who they are doesn’t say things like, “It’s not that complicated.” That is something firmly in the camp of yeah, this is who I am, what of it? Because make no mistake, it is incredibly important to me to hear characters like Michael Guerin self-identify on screen as bisexual.

Part of this portrayal can of course, also be attributed to Michael’s upbringing in the foster care system, where talking about himself was never encouraged or allowed. Because I don’t think, given how it is repeatedly reinforced that Michael shunned most aspects of humanity on Earth, that he was ever ashamed of his sexuality. Though I do believe that said upbringing did affect his own feelings of self-worth, and how he saw himself in the eyes of others.

Something I’ve seen mentioned a lot are two interactions we see on screen: between Alex & Maria in 1x10, and between Maria & Liz in 1x13, and the idea that there is “outing” of Michael. And while, I do understand and respect a lot of those arguments, especially regarding their importance regarding the LGBTQ community as a whole, something I don’t see discussed are people who don’t necessarily want to have a formal coming out, or who don’t feel the need to initiate those conversations regarding their sexuality. Even though yes, both Alex and Maria do technically out Michael (though neither do it with any malicious intent), I don't believe that Michael himself would care that other people know he is bisexual (his feelings for Alex are a different story entirely). And part of that may be that he doesn't believe anyone else thinks of him that much to even discuss him due to that upbringing he had, and also because the act of coming out would involve the feeling of being under a microscope (thanks for that wording, Riley), and Michael Guerin would definitely want to avoid that.

But back to my original point - at no point during Season 1 does Michael Guerin give the impression that he is ashamed of his sexuality - the lack of bringing it up first does not read that way to me. It reads more as Michael sees it simply as part of who he is, and that’s it. He can’t change it, and he’s already different (he’s a literal alien, ffs), so why worry about it. It very much reminds me of how I have viewed my own sexuality for years - it is simply just part of who I am. I have never felt the need to sit anyone down and announce my sexuality - in fact, I came out to my mother as I was walking out the door to go on a date. She asked what his name was, and I just replied what her name was.

But there seems to exist this idea within the LGBTQ community that every person needs to have a “coming out.” That we need to be completely in control of who knows, and how they find out, and when they find out, which is not something I agree with completely. Now, also know that I understand the importance of this idea to many, because of rampant homophobic attitudes that remain present within our society. But I see very few people discussing and supporting those of us who would rather not have to announce it in some grand way - because is this not also allowing someone to control their narrative? It has definitely made me wonder how different my own acceptance of my sexuality could have been had I believed that it wasn’t a requirement for me to come out to the people in my life (an idea which sends my anxiety into a tailspin, tbh).

Again, this is just my perspective regarding the overall portrayal of Michael’s bisexuality. It is not meant to act as a correct version, just sharing why I have particularly enjoyed what RNM has done.

But it was not Michael Guerin that made me want to write fanfic, and it was not Michael Guerin that truly made me love this show - it was in fact, Alex Manes. It was Alex Manes, who is confrontational, who is analytical, who needs facts first and who lives so much within his own head, that truly drew me into this show. Alex Manes who very clearly has struggled not with the fact that he is gay, but with that outward expression of his sexuality. In canon, this is very much due to the trauma of his childhood, to growing up in an abusive household that rejected everything about who he was as a person, and tried to force him into a box that was very much not who he is. And while I did not have that kind of upbringing, the idea of believing you won’t be accepted even among the people who should love you unconditionally is a universal feeling within the LGBTQ community. 

Alex’s talk with Maria in the truck is perhaps some of the most relatable queer representation I’ve ever seen. Because it dives into the different types of love and attraction and how not every touch between two people needs to be sexual in nature. And it lays out very plainly how important it is to have trust between people. But it’s also about recognizing what you do want, and accepting that for yourself. And that conversation is so important toward understanding what happens later on in the Airstream.

Because Alex, due to his upbringing, doesn’t believe that he is worthy of being loved in that way. When Maria comforts Michael over the realization that he could have lost both of them, Alex says he should go, not because he doesn’t want to be there. He says it because he feels like he shouldn’t be allowed to be there, to want to be there. Alex feels like an intrusion, even though he’s gone through the same horrifying ordeal and he’s with two people he loves and feels safe around. Maria recognizes that immediately, and moves back to Alex in order to give him the safety he needs as well. Maria is acting in regards to both of the boys love languages - Alex needs that physical touch of reassurance (kissing him), Michael needs to hear it verbally (”it’s okay”). And furthermore, they all need each other in that moment (”I just want us all safe”).

But it is specifically Alex’s speech in the truck earlier, about touch and self-acceptance that has me sobbing every time I watch it. Because even though I got my first crush on a girl as a teenager, it wasn’t until years later that I actually allowed myself to act on that. It was only years later that I learned just how different my attraction toward men and women really was, that I enjoyed different things for different reasons from the different sexes and that was okay. So that speech has just really resonated with me as a bisexual woman who struggled for years with acceptance of her sexuality, of being able to act on it, and it makes me incredibly happy to see a television show (A CW SHOW ABOUT COWBOY ALIENS OK) conquering these things in such a relatable way.

All of this ended up making me go back to something Chasing wrote last year about Michael’s bisexuality, and the portrayal we’re seeing, and something she said in her meta: “No one is harder on queer representation and queer media than queer people - and I get it. We’ve had so much bad representation and we’re sick of it and that’s understandable. But it’s turned into this thing where every slice of representation has to be Perfect or it’s Garbage, and it’s leading creators to not want to try because they’re so harshly run off every time they do. And when they don’t try, they don’t learn, and when they don’t learn, they don’t do better.” So maybe the rep isn’t perfect, but that doesn’t mean there isn’t a valiant effort being made to reach out to an underrepresented community. And for me personally, the depiction doesn’t have to be perfect, because people aren’t perfect, and sexuality isn’t one size fits all. What may make one person feel seen and understood, another may not see themselves represented at all - but that’s okay. Because with more representation in media, comes different tellings and stories, and comes different ways people can relate because the queer community is not a monolith. We all look at things through different lenses and experiences, but it becomes hurtful when those who don’t see themselves represented in a specific piece of media start telling those who do that they are wrong. And I wish more people would take that into consideration during discussions and criticisms.

Finally, I want to end with this gif, because woo boy. This face and that look. I know that look. I have made that look. This look is so goddamn recognizable and familiar. Because there’s also something about knowing you’re watching an actor who has probably also gone through a lot of these same feelings the character is expressing, that it just comes through in their performance and makes it all the more relatable and real (and especially how even the script itself makes it obvious it was written by people in the queer community).

[mrkanman]

game theory time boys

What Are The Corrupted Souls?

The Rusty Lake universe tells the story of those affected by the titular location that transcends several generations, with THESE bad boys as malevolent, ghostly apparitions that give you just generally a hard time. 

The White Door told us the story of Robert Hill, who is a confirmed corrupted soul, detailing the events of his involvement with the mysterious death of the woman. But moreso than Bob’s story, we actually started getting some more insight in what Corrupted Souls actually ARE which I’m gonna try to rationalize to the best of my ability--let’s go.

(SPOILERS FOR THE WHITE DOOR AHEAD) 

In the timeline, the first instance of a corrupted soul that we see is Caroline Eilander. 

Caroline Eilander had died prior to the events of Rusty Lake: Paradise, and was studying how to acquire the elixir of life in secret before her death. Her animal symbolism is the owl, which is shared by both her son Jakob and by Dale Vandermeer, and is typically representative of being the “ruler of the Lake.”

As a corrupted soul, her memories were split apart into ten black cubes that contained the elements for the elixir of life, which she bestowed upon Jakob to aide in his path to enlightenment. She was able to send down a plague as a corrupted soul, speak, and disappear and re-appear at will. When her bones are recovered during the ninth plague, they are ground into “magical powder”. So while her mind may have become broken, and the soul itself split off as its own entity, her body still had anomalous effects on it. 

This is important when we examine what happens in the White Door.

The body dies, the soul is carried over. But the body isn’t gone--it’s replaced.  

During the last plague in Rusty Lake: Paradise, Jakob is burned alive, but achieves enlightenment. *How* this happens at first seems vague, but by the end, and by what the game often instructs us to do, it becomes clear. 

The Elixir of Life alone is not enough to reach enlightenment, one must also embrace a corrupted soul, or well, *literally* merge with a corrupted soul. Mr. Owl was created when the elements were gathered as the cubes and when Caroline Eilander merged with Jakob, creating an entirely new being with (suspected) unlimited immortality and wisdom.

Corrupted souls are not so much as “ghosts” are they like the limbo between death and rebirth, a concept that is repeatedly echoed throughout the series. They eat, they sleep, and speak at times, but are strongly disposed towards violence and can even seem like wild animals. But they are like cocoons for the cycle of rebirth. 

Which is why I propose that: Mr. Boar, Mr. Deer, Ms. Pheasant, Mrs. Pigeon, and Mr. Rabbit *are* definitely reincarnations of the Eilander family, they’re very deliberately NOT the Eilanders when they are alive. It is only as Corrupted Souls do their past lives merge with each other, and their memories and perception of reality becoming confused and erratic. 

Their containment in the hotel effectively served as a stasis chamber, keeping them in their corrupted state to prolong the cycle of rebirth until they’re needed. When they broke out, some of them stayed at the lake as corrupted souls stalking for potential victims, while some split off and left the lake, still corrupted, but in a different “state,” a different life. 

Mr. Rabbit had tried to re-enter society as a corrupted soul, remembering the past life of David Eilander, but based off of what happens to Bob in a similar fashion as a corrupted soul, reality is distorted and Eilander is too unstable, resulting in the massacre of Dale Vandermeer’s family in order to retrieve The Pistol.

These pistols seem not to *kill* so much as, change your state of being. In the Blue Cube timeline of Dale’s birthday, Mr. Rabbit is shot and, as he is absorbed by the tree, beams of light shoot out of his body. Beams of light coming out of a corrupted soul is generally connotative with the soul being destroyed/purified. But as stated, he doesn’t die, he’s merely in a new state and returned to the lake. 

 Which brings me to the “Lady of the Lake” theorized to be Ms. Pheasant. 

Now the REAL “Lady of the Lake” is Caroline Eilander, as seen in painting depictions, so it’s important to recognize that this is a *stage production.* The woman in blue is playing a role, much like how Pheasant did in the Hotel. 

For this to be one of the lives of Elizabeth Eilander, I’d actually wager it to not be such a bad guess. It would be natural to assume for her daughter to inherit her legacy, even only as a pretender. She’s seen here in both a corrupted and non-corrupted state, which I don’t feel so much as to be a literal representation of her so much as how she perceives herself, or perceived through the lenses of the memories. 

Because another notable thing about Elizabeth is that she was blind, and not once was the Lady in Blue ever shown to open her eyes. This corrupted soul is still a PERSON, and in likely a similar state to how Bob was after he shot himself in the White Door(no memory of her past life and just generally being confused) and was taken in by the theatre as a performer to be kept close to the lake and still get to use her memories. 

These are the more concrete parallels and conclusions we can come to, with the relationship between Mr. Deer’s corrupted soul and Albert Vanderboom being one which I won’t go into depth: but there could be implication that Albert had also been trying to recreate the elixir, same as his father did, and maybe had a lost soul influencing him after 1894. (Which, mind you, two years later after the corrupted souls were released did he murder and torture his family outright.) I think the fact that the Corrupted Soul of Mr. Deer looking a lot like the silhouette of Albert was intentional in that way. He may have been a potential candidate for enlightenment before his brain was collected for William’s rebirth, maybe even becoming a corrupted soul himself. 

So basically what I’m saying is: corrupted souls are not so much as “souls” but as the physical embodiment of the inbetween of life and death, in which the lake serves as a sort of “womb” for. They cannot distinguish between imagination and reality, are supernaturally aggressive and malicious, have scattered and unreliable memories of all their past lives at once, and DO subsist off of a carnivorous diet, primarily that which of animals (or people) that are still alive. They can be killed and resurrected, are intelligent but only sometimes sapient, and the perception of how they physically manifest can depend on the level of corruption at which they are at. A living person *can* be corrupted with enough exposure to black cubes being forcibly extracted, but it’s a typically longer and riskier process. 

[ryouverua]

COMPLETELY IRRELEVANT but consider: kiibo trying to use the internet. kiibo getting upset because every single site he tries to sign up for has one of those "I am not a robot" checkboxes on it. this is discrimination!! his lawyer will be hearing about this!! "kiibo you do realize you can just click on the box and it'll let you through right" "that would be dishonest!" "kiibo."

‘As directed by the client, I tailed the subject, her husband - to be referred to as U.N. for the rest of the paper - until the subject reached his first destination. From that point I maintained a 15m distance. The materials I used for the assignment were as follows: a Konan EOS 70D digital camera -”

Shuichi scrubbed the sleep from his eyes with the heel of his hands. Should he list his ‘talent-assigned materials’ in its own separate section or keep it in his overview paragraph? The talent-based assignments always put him on edge; with no standard template to follow, there was no real way to be sure of how the teachers wanted their papers laid out. Kaede, bless her heart, was no help; any performance-based assignments for her never needed a formal essay to go with it.

He squinted at the screen. Maybe Kaito would know? His astronaut exercises were all over the place, but he always seemed to score well in the end -

A deceptively quiet warbling cry curled itself around his headphones, wormed its way into his ear, and drove itself like a spike deep into his brain. Damn it.

He fiddled with his cover letter, debating on whether the title should be underlined or not; whether his name should be in bold or not. The spike drove itself deeper, insistent on being heard. It tore at the fraying edges of his concentration. Shuichi could see bits of it even now, floating away like a… a…..

……

Ah. So Shuichi was at the point of the essay-writing process where words were failing him completely. Fantastic.

He unplugged himself from his phone and slumped into his computer chair. There was a wrong to be righted here, he knew, and perhaps he would have been more sympathetic if this hadn’t been happening consistently over the entire school semester.

“IRUMA-SAAAAAN!”

Shuichi leaned over; stole a glance at his screen. “She left for her research lab already, Kiibo-kun. She doesn’t need the school printer.”

Iruma’s talent for finding lewd uses to match any home and office material was only matched by her talent for inventions. It had quickly been deemed necessary for her to have her own printer after the last time she had forgotten a set of racy schematics in the library machine.

Reminding K1-b0 of that at the moment seemed a bit insensitive. With that said, it was clear the situation had escalated to the point where something needed to be done; if nothing else, ignoring the loud whirring of K1-b0′s fans would be impossible with his headphones out of his ears. K1-b0 had gotten himself worked up again to the point that there was coolant liquid beginning to pool at the base of his optical lenses. With Miu who-knows-where, the responsibility had apparently fallen to Shuichi to calm him down again.

“Did you run into another CAPTCHA code?” Shuichi asked, working to keep his voice as even and sympathetic as possible.

“W-Why?” K1-b0’s speakers were practically crackling with emotion. “Why are so many people prejudiced against robots?”

“I don’t think they had you in mind when they designed these. They’re generally for dissuading certain types of malicious programs and algorithms that aim to…”

One look at K1-b0 made it plain that this was the wrong way to approach this. He hurriedly changed tactics.

“You know you can just click the checkbox underneath the message, right?”

“That is not the point, not to mention entirely dishonest! This is about something far greater than simply signing up for a website!”

“Kiibo,” Shuichi said, feeling his growing exasperation at war with his empathy, “our assignment is due tomorrow.”

“They will be hearing from my lawyers! Or at the very least, I will reach out to the Ultimate Lawyer!”

At the rate K1-b0 was going, he was bound to overheat and Shuichi really wasn’t equipped to deal with the consequences. This next move was for both of them - it was nearly 1 in the morning, and both of them had to recharge in their own particular way before class the next day. K1-b0 would understand and forgive him, right? Tomorrow, anyway. Maybe.

So without further ado, he placed his over K1-b0′s, maneuvers the mouse over the unassuming box that was far too much trouble for its pixel size, and clicked it with him.

“S-Saihara-san!” K1-b0 was aghast. “You -”

“It doesn’t matter,” Shuichi said firmly, “what anyone outside of this school thinks of ‘bots’, because they haven’t met you yet. They don’t understand how good or kind or talented robots can be. That’s what your assignment is about, isn’t it? Weren’t you exploring the areas you could be a pioneer for robots?”

The back-lighting of K1-b0′s eyes flickered. “I-I chose to specifically analyze the potential ways robots could advance the music genre, but -”

“In order for you to prove that to everyone, you need to be able to sign up for this website.”

K1-b0 nodded.

“Then you can’t let something like this stop you,” Shuichi said. There was surely some Kaito-ism that would fit well here, though he’d be damned if he had enough energy to come up with it off the top of his head. “You need to just - reach for your dream and grab it or, uh, do whatever it takes to make your dreams come true, no matter what the obstacle.”

There was a moment of quiet as K1-b0 considered his words, and all of his lights dimmed.

“… Kiibo,” Shuichi said again, when the silence dragged out a worrying few seconds too long, “we all believe in you. And if you have to lie to make the rest of the world believe in you too, then I’ll support you in that. Okay?”

“… Okay,” was the quiet response back. When the light had returned to his eyes, Shuichi saw that they were fixated on the computer screen with renewed determination. Good.

“And…. be careful not to stay up too late.” Shuichi let go of his hand - surprisingly warm and comforting, in ways he hadn’t realized metal could be - and straightened. “I know you don’t have to recharge for another few days, but you don’t want your processors to be slow. I’ll be here a bit longer working on my essay if you need more help.”

“I won’t,” Kiibo said, and Shuichi was relieved to the confidence returning to his voice. “I won’t let your sacrifice go to waste!”

… Well, Shuichi would hardly call lying to a website a ‘sacrifice’, but the intention was good, he supposed. With a tired smile and one last quick assurance that this was the only website needing a proper login, Shuichi settled back in to his own essay.

Being talented really wasn’t easy.

And it didn’t take a detective to know that this particular non-battle would happen again soon enough.

[jng-animation]

3.Character Research - 9/10/19

So at the end of our character lecture our lecturer told us to go off and do some own independent research into some examples of archetypal characters beyond the examples we came up with in the lecture itself. So I thought I’d include one of each example of a character that (I believe) to fit each type of archetype (maybe even fit more than one...).

So here are my examples!

1. Hero = Hiro (Big Hero 6)

I didn’t only believe Hiro was a good example of a ‘Hero’ because his name fits pretty much perfectly, but I find him to have some interesting and deeper qualities that a compelling hero should have (or at least in my opinion). He is a kind and courageous character that has a high level of confidence in himself, or at least shown for the majority of the duration of the film. He loses confidence in his decisions part way through the film as he comes to the realisation he wants to kill the man behind the mask, the one that took the life of his brother. This is the arc we follow with Hiro, his loss of his brother is his call to adventure, the journey of his brothers avengement. The different worldly experience I believe is more of a psychological experience, as he must overcome the loss of his brother, and this is done by the untanglement of his killers loss of his daughter. Hiro instead feels sympathy for his antagonist’s loss and risks his own life to save his daughter and this is the moment he overcomes his inner shadow, by helping his physical shadow. This is why I think Hiro is a selfless, emotional but good-doing hero...

2. Ally - Jake (Adventure Time)

It is probably pretty obvious as to how Jake is a great example to the Ally archetype. Being the best friend to Finn, Jake will always follow him on every journey he goes on, usually being the one to give light-hearted humour and advice to keep the Hero on their journey. Although Jake shares as much of the spotlight on the show as Finn does, Finn however fits the Hero archetype more than Jake does, as Jake is more often helping Finn with his story arcs. (Although some episode are based more on Jake).

3. Herald - Hagrid (Harry Potter franchise)

“You’re a wizard, Harry” - the exact quote that perfectly shows how Hagrid is Harry’s Herald. Bursting through the door and giving Harry his escape from the Dursley’s, and the call of adventure to his own story arc. One might say that the sentient invitation letter was also a herald, in which I would agree, but Hagrid’s the real force behind Harry’s jump up to the wizarding world.

4. Mentor - Obi Wan (Star Wars franchise)

Luke’s first mentor, Obi Wan was also his herald into the force and the story arc to the destruction of the empire. Obi wan is has all the qualities of a mentor, supplying Luke with his father’s lightsaber and teaching him his first lessons into becoming his own Jedi, these are the needed gifts supplied by the mentor.

5. Trickster - Bugs Bunny (Looney Tunes)

Bugs also being a main character of the Looney Tunes franchise, he is most certainly a perfect fit for the trickster archetype. Delighting in breaking the rules (especially those of physical capabilities), filling almost all of his screentime with comedy.

6. Shape-shifter - Loki (Norse Myth/Marvel)

Some wild catagorise Loki the God of Mischief as a trickster and as would I, I feel I definitely categorises into that archetype, however I believe his story to be much more compelling told through the lense of his character being a shapeshifter. Having two sides of the coin, Loki is both a physical shapeshifter as well as a psychological one. He has been known to change his appearance into that of his father to deceive his brother Thor with malicious intent, as well as changing his form into that of a snake to attack Thor. However, what makes his character arc more interesting is his own psychological shape shifting, as Loki goes through his life experiencing different events his intents and ideals change, from that of being jealous of his brother to helping him and being his best friend, and what makes it better is that realises this, he knows his wrong doings and makes the effort to change to please his brother. Taking an emotional self realisation of a journey which eventually leads to his self sacrifice for his brother, which is the polar opposite of his intents which were to kill him, proving his change.

7. Threshold Guardian - King Dice (Cuphead)

Although not a character with a very large description, I feel King Dice was quite literal choice for threshold guardian, being the loyal man to the final boss (shadow) of the game. Usually the one to talk to the protagonist, telling them about the challenge they’ll have to face with the big baddie, but you’ll have to get through him first. He’s a very plot essential character, being one of the story tellers in the game. Quite literally making you play a game to get to the final antagonist’slair.

8. Shadow - Killmonger (Marvel)

One of the most interesting villains in the Marvel Cinematic universe, as well as on the page, however his story was told brilliantly in the movie. Eric Killmonger plays a pivotal role to the development of T’Challa’s character. Being the sole reason why Wakanda is opened up to the rest of the world, as this is the desires of Eric in the beginning of the film. He descovers the killers of his father and his rights to be the King of Wakanda, challenging T’Challa and succeeding. He wants Wakanda to open up to the world and liberate black people all over the world by supplying operatives with the weapons and reasources they need, although this is not the act of a villain, he doesn’t see the world past his own reign, he wants world domination. These motives that the viewer can understand is why he is a well depicted character. But the reason he is the shadow is his malicious intent, in the movie he burns the ‘heart shaped herb’ the power of the black panther and this is a metaphor of his own persistence into leading a new reign that will last till the end of time. This is why he is the shadow, but a great and complex one at that...

[cosmicevila]

JJBA Secret Santa 2018 Fic: Mirror for You

Merry Christmas, @rember-redink!  I was your Secret Santa for the JJBA Secret Santa exchange!  I tried to incorporate two of your OTPs, so I hope I was able to do them both justice!

Fic title: Mirror for You

Pairings: Josuke/Koichi, YasuGap

Rating: G

Two couples are reflected in one another.

People always asked Koichi why he bothered with “a guy like Josuke.”  They never explained that phrase, but Josuke knew exactly what it implied—a thug like Josuke, an asshole like Josuke, a guy as frightening and intimidating as Josuke, who could and would beat you to a pulp for the smallest of offenses.  Even though they were adults now, and Josuke had become a well-respected police officer in Morioh, for fuck’s sake, known for his perception and quick thinking in tense situations, people still questioned Koichi and Josuke’s relationship.  Hell, they’d been dating since the end of high school and people still asked Koichi when he was going to settle down with a nice young woman.  These questions really didn’t make them angry anymore like they used to, but Koichi wasn’t particularly good at hiding his feelings, and when they met on Clover Bridge after Koichi was finished grading his high school literature students’ homework, as they did every day so Josuke could walk him home and they could chat for a moment, Jouske could read the frown lines on Koichi’s skin and know what kind of day he’d had from their depth, and how many people had tried his patience.  

 And it’s not like Koichi was any sort of shy about sharing Josuke’s most positive traits with the people that quizzed him—“He’s a good person with a good heart, he’s always in my corner, I feel safe with him, he’s a nice guy who just doesn’t suffer fools”—each compliment made Josuke’s heart go supernova, and he thanked whatever gods happened to be listening that this sweet guy who thought so highly of him had chosen to stay at his side for as long as he had.  That first year of high school was full of horrors that he never could have imagined, but it was also the year that Josuke met his ride-or-die bro Okuyasu, with whom he was still as tight as ever all these years later (although they argued sometimes when Okuyasu went past the speed limit testing whatever new motorcycle he’d just finished repairing while Josuke was on patrol, because Josuke really didn’t want to give his ride-or-die bro a speeding ticket even though it was The Law), and Koichi, the man he hoped to marry someday, and all of his other friends, living and dead and alien, and Josuke held them all close in his golden heart.  

 As Josuke watched the water flowing underneath Clover Bridge, the winter air cold enough to make his breath visible but not cold enough to freeze the Ichigo River, waiting for Koichi on a sliiiiiiightly-over-regulation-length break, he thought, with a smirk, about the people who asked him about Koichi, asking him why a tough guy like him wanted to date a wimpy nerd like Koichi. So few knew that Koichi was a fucking badass!  People didn’t bother Okuyasu about dating Mikitaka as much as they did Josuke dating Koichi, and Mikitaka was the one who was mistaken for a woman half the time. Maybe it was because Okuyasu and Mikitaka were proud enough oddballs that derogatory comments flew right by them (or because any implication that femininity equaled weakness led to either a punch from Okuyasu or the standard speech from Mikitaka about all of the strong women he knew personally, which did include Josuke’s mom and did just about make Josuke die from embarrassment because of it).  Anyway, these small-minded people pissed Josuke right the fuck off. If they managed to get past, “How can a tough guy like you be gay?” and still be standing, which depended on if they’d dared to use a slur and how close Josuke was to his yearly review from the chief of police, the next question was always slandering Koichi’s strength. Usually, the question asker certainly wasn’t standing after that, and even if they were, Josuke just couldn’t tell them about all of the times that Koichi physically kicked someone’s ass with Echoes, because he couldn’t just explain Stands to randoms.  But even without Echoes, Koichi’s heart was strong and proud, and Josuke loved his steadfastness, and the strength of his sense of duty and justice.  Koichi was the only one of them that Jotaro regularly contacted on behalf of the Speedwagon Foundation, after all.  And Koichi’s inner well of determination must be bottomless, because his endless patience during their study sessions got Josuke and Okuyasu through high school and into police academy and engineering college, respectively.  Koichi’s blushed as hard as he had when Josuke kissed him for the first time when Tomoko told him that he was an educational miracle worker.

 As he watched the water and thought about his kewl boyfriend, people passed Josuke on Clover Bridge, some passing so closely that Josuke thought he could see their reflections in the chilly water.  But then a flash of pink caught Josuke’s eye, hair the color of cherry blossoms, and Josuke first thought that Reimi had come back to call on him for some dire Heavenly crisis, but then he noticed the pigtails—

 —And a familiar voice asked, “Josuke-kun, what’s wrong?  What did you see?”

 Josuke’s frantic looks landed on Koichi, bundled in a green down puffer jacket that made him look as small as he had when Josuke first met him.  Koichi hadn’t gotten quite the growth spurt that he had hoped for, but he was only about a head shorter than Josuke now, and Okuyasu had roped him into lifting weights with him “to get ripped and look their flyest when they were riding motorcycles,” never mind the fact that Koichi had about as much interest in riding motorcycles as Josuke had in getting a pet turtle.  Josuke grinned and relaxed.  “Nothing, Koichi,” he said.  “The light was playing some weird tricks, making your hair look pink in your reflection in the water.  I thought Reimi was back.  And you don’t have to call me –kun.”  

 Koichi laughed sheepishly.  “I know, Josuke-k—Josuke.  It’s just a hard habit to break.”  He leaned on the wall of the bridged and peered down.  His regular blonde brushcut stared back at him.  “I’m glad that it was just the light.  I don’t think I could pull off pink hair.”  He glanced at Josuke.  “You could, though.  You could pull off any color, I’m sure.”

 Josuke batted his eyelashes, painted heavily with mascara, at Koichi.  “That sounds like a challenge.  What colors would you put me in?”

 Koichi hummed as he thought before saying, “Grey-green, like a turtle.”

 Josuke scowled. “That was a Rohan answer, you dick. I’m leaving.”  Koichi laughed, though, and took Josuke’s hand, and whatever anger had flared up within him dissipated like fog in the sunlight.  

 “I think you look best in deep purple,” Koichi murmured.  “It suits you, body and soul.”  And what could Josuke do to that except pick Koichi up and kiss him, sweet and long and mirthfully, right there in public?

On Clover Bridge in another Morioh, Josuke slumped against the bridge railing, watching the leaves on the river float underneath the bridge and silently lamenting how short his shirt was as the cold winter air found a way into his jacket to freeze the skin of his stomach.  Yasuho was late for their—date?  Were they dating?  He loved her, he knew that.  The person who found him when he was new and nothing, and the only person who saw him as one hundred percent his own self.  Sometimes, that fact alone made him curl up underneath the mattress late at night and sob, from isolation and grief that he hardly understood, and gratitude that at least one person cared about Josuke Higashikata, the gap-toothed, bicolor-eyed, dapple-skinned boy in the sailor suit who liked large fries and just wanted a safe life to call his own, who was dropped into the middle of something he was doing his best to understand.  Being with Yasuho was easy, because she expected nothing from him except his friendship.  That was not a problem.  He was more than willing to share his time with a kindhearted girl with a surprisingly deep well of determination within her heart.  She took his hand in hers, and the gentle action formed a lump in his throat every time she did.  He had no family, and hers was broken—if a kind woman’s life didn’t hang in the balance of their actions, if Josuke hadn’t been born with a mystery to solve, then maybe they could forge a new life together, somehow, somewhere.

 Yasuho called Josuke “innocent,” and Joshuu called him “ignorant,” with a sneer in his voice that was amplified by the one on his face.  Yasuho told him that the words were similar, but not the same—she always meant “innocent” as a compliment, because although Josuke had a lot to learn about the world, she admired his good judgment and his quick thinking, learning fast and making the right decisions.  Joshuu, she thought, was trying to say that Josuke was willfully naïve, maybe even maliciously so—but Joshuu’s judgment was clouded with selfish, entitled thoughts, and she would much rather spend time with a boy who saw the world clearly, saw it as something fresh and new with no colored lenses.  Well, to Josuke, a lot of the time the world looked pretty rosy.  

 “Josuke~!”  He perked up at the sound of his name, called by a beloved voice.  He started to turn away from the river, but he was distracted for a moment by a clear reflection of what looked like a man lifting a smaller man into the air, embracing him warmly—an enemy Stand?!  But Stands cause definite pressure in the atmosphere, and Josuke felt nothing out of the ordinary.  He turned back to see Yasuho jogging towards him with two big shopping bags, one from a department store and one from the local hamburger joint.  He knew what was in that bag.

 “What were you looking at?” she asked when she got close enough to peer over the bridge.  “Any ducks in the river right now?”

 “No, I saw a weird reflection, like two people hugging.  Do you see it?”  But when Josuke peeked back over the bridge, the water reflected nothing but the cloudy sky above.  

 “Huh,” said Yasuho. “Oh, by the way, what are you wearing under that jacket?  I mean, I’m glad to see you in a jacket, but—”  She reached out and tugged the zipper on the coat down, and Josuke yelped, slamming his hands to his midsection to cover it.  Yasuho gasped.  “That’s what I thought!  Josuke, Merry Christmas.  Put this on.” She reached into the department store bag and pulled out a royal blue sweater.  Josuke shrugged into it quickly, and then Yasuho followed it with a matching set of emerald green gloves, earmuffs, and a scarf.  Soon, Josuke was bundled up against the cold, and that familiar lump had formed in his throat.  Yasuho screamed as Josuke scooped her up and twirled her around like the couple he thought he saw, and she kissed him through the scarf where his mouth was hiding, and Josuke let the tears spill, because Yasuho wouldn’t tease him for crying, either, no matter what.