#i prioritize the silly it is simply in my nature

[fishareglorious]

I like Vertin's messiah parallels so I bring to you the theory: what if she was a virgin birth like Mary had with Jesus?

Vertin's mom disappears for months on end and throws the people that know her into a tizzy looking everywhere for her, then she casually rolls up to the Foundation one day with a fucking. newborn child. That looks a lot like her.

"Who's child is that?" Constantine asks.

"Mine, of course???"

"But you've never shown any interest in... who's the father, then?"

"... yeah i actually have no idea lmfao. i'm gay and you already know that, Constantine."

"..."

A week later she also peaces out and leaves little Vertin to the Foundation. No one has any idea where she's gone after that.

[raayllum]

How do you feel about the depth of the world building, and the target demographic and "realism" of the fantasy? The world and show is whimsical. It's targeted to a diverse audience, yet deal with some deep emotions. It's not aligned with human nature. Kings, queens, and generals don't charge in the front lines. Melodasies and fart flowers don't make a lot of sense, but they're entertaining concepts. I feel it's a sketch of the world that lets you focus on the core story and relationships.

I think there's a few things to keep in mind with TDP, specifically

The type of worldbuilding that typically gets included in fantasy

The type of worldbuilding that gets included in similar shows of its ilk (Steven Universe, She-Ra, The Owl House, and other contemporary kids' shows)

For fantasy, I'd say that TDP's worldbuilding is probably more 'shallow' due to the fact its a TV show, and the two season novelizations notwithstanding (which are already packed full of plot and written for a younger audience), it is much, much easier to do detailed worldbuilding in narrative fiction than visual media. Visual media can get away with communicating visual worldbuilding and splendid visuals, but in order for us to learn history or culture or anything along those lines, it almost exclusively has to come with dialogue, which is time consuming and you have to make sure the scene is still engaging; you don't even have the room to info dump a paragraph or two the way you could get away with in a book

So TV show worldbuilding, I'd say TDP is doing its best, considering its runtime and that worldbuilding is absolutely a priority. The expanded look at Xadia and Sunfire elf culture was one of my favourite things about S4

But in comparison to other kids' shows out there that are airing, or have recently aired? TDP is on a whole other level I don't think will be matched anytime soon. ATLA probably has a leg up on cultural worldbuilding (which also makes sense given the run time and nature of bending) but even then, there are plenty of things we know in TDP that we don't know in ATLA, such as history that goes hundreds and thousands of years back, local laws and judicial systems outside of one Earth Kingdom town, what more than one type of culture conducts as a funeral rite, etc.

Of the three other examples given, I think SU has the best worldbuilding, but we still don't really know what the Gem colonization of other planets was like. TOH develops some worldbuilding ideas, but never really wholly takes them to fruition, and even when I was more favourable to She-Ra while it was airing, worldbuilding was never a strong suit or seemed to be a focus of the series. Which is fine, as not every fantasy show wants to prioritize worldbuilding, but damn if I don't love it when they do, since it's one of my favourite parts of the genre as a fantasy reader and writer

And there are definitely kings, queens, and generals who have fought on the front lines in the past; it was expected for them to be involved in warfare. Melodaisies and fart flowers aren't grounded in a worldbuilding need, but neither are our silly real world equivalents of something like say, kazoos and whoopee cushions, that exist for no real reason other than that they're Fun and can be made by human hands. (And there are flowers, and even stink bugs, that do emit smells in nature.)

TDP definitely prioritizes a Top-Down approach in terms of writing from theme first and foremost and then weaving things in as they need, which they've acknowledged. The show, understandably as a story and something operating under story constraints, is more than willing to place plot and theme over logistics, but most stories are, tbh. So I think the sketch is detailed, but the focus is on how the characters interact with each other (and the theme accordingly) and the world is largely built around it - there's a reason it's not a world with a whole bunch of other continents, after all, simply because it didn't need to be. If you're interested in more thoughts in this vein / how TDP constructs itself, I'd recommend checking out this meta I wrote here <3

[mariathechosen1]

Queer participation and representation in fanfiction: An update

Hello! 

Some people might be aware of the fact that last week I posted a survey I was doing as part of research project for a Norwegian research competition. I was expecting about 50-80 answers, but instead got about 8300…this is a lot of answers. For quite some time this was more ‘Maria’s silly little fanfiction project’ and so, due to the nature of the competition and the expected sample size, official university requirements weren’t prioritized. Since then, me and my research supervisor have been in contact with the university organizing the competition to ask them “What the hell do we do?” and after much discussion we’ve decided to redo the study.

The survey itself can be found here: https://forms.gle/Tcoafs9dU627PNcn8

Update: The survey is now closed!

 FAQ:

‘What does this mean?’

The main differences are that we’ve had to remove the two questions asking the survey taker about their gender identity and sexuality as these are considered to be sensitive information. We’ve also decided that to participate in the current study, you have to be over 16 and we’ve changed the requirements so that this study is only for queer individuals. There’s an added ‘terms and conditions’ page that one must consent to before taking the survey to confirm this.

  ‘I participated in the past study, what happens to my answer?’

Any past data from the former survey will be deleted. I know that some people might be a little frustrated over this (A big thank you to all those who wrote 800 word essays in the original survey), but the past data would simply not be valid. I apologize for any inconvenience this might have caused, but that’s what we’ve been recommended to do. If you want, you send in a new answer to the updated study.

 ‘I didn’t participate in the past study, can I still answer?’

Yes! Anyone who is 1) queer, 2) over 16 years old, and 3) familiar with fanfiction, whether that be through reading or writing it, can participate in the new study.

 ‘Why didn’t the original survey follow these new criteria?’

The simple answer is that getting 50 answers is very different from getting 8000. Getting this much engagement made us realize that this was actually a topic that a lot (and I mean A LOT) of people are engaged about. The research competition is, for the most part, designed to introduce younger students to proper research and study methods, and so requirements weren’t as strict as they would be for a scientist with years of experience. Now that we’ve realized the potential of this study, though, we’ve decided to try and conduct it befittingly.

If it weren’t for the fact that the competition deadline is in April, we probably would have applied for special permission to ask more specific questions about sexuality and gender, but alas.

 ‘Will I be able to read the project after it’s done?’/’Will you post the survey results?’

This is still under consideration, but if the project does manage to win the competition, the organizers will publish it on their website. If it doesn’t, we will most likely decide to publish it on our own. I also feel it’s relevant to mention that even though it’s slightly frustrating to have to do the survey all over again, the positive side is that after many emails with the organizing university, they’ve gotten very interested in this project and has, along with us, realized that the potential for fan studies is a lot bigger than what one might have thought. The future is still unknown, but they have inquired about doing something more with the research in the future, so who knows?  

 ‘I have a different question about the survey questions/project/research.’

If (and this is a big if) you have a casual question or inquiry about any of the survey questions or the project details, you can send me either a message or an ask (Though I would prefer a message). I get that some people feel a little awkward sending a full email if they have a small informal question about how something is phrased, for example, but please send any serious questions about methodology, data privacy or our qualifications to the study’s research supervisor. Preferably in a respectful manner.

[alloftheseworldz]

I'm once again playing a game... this time it's Yokai Watch 3. And... wow. Wowie do I need to put Usapyon and Doctor Hughly in here somehow. I really, really want Usapyon to go through the Star Gate and reach the hotel suite and kinda just... look around. Like really badly. Like, I'm half tempted to open my writing app and get to work on something so strange and silly. It would've also been strange and silly if Doctor Hughly met with the main Space Odyssey characters. I feel this is how it'd go:

Dave and Hughly saw each other on equal footing; both of them are seperated enough from most of those they're around to prioritize themselves and their missions and keeping most, if not, all their emotions to themselves. I don't think they'd be the best of buddies, but I feel they would understand each other.

Frank would likely have to get something out of Hughly, some sort of reaction. Anything, really. There wouldn't be too much luck; he's somehow more reserved than Dave is. This I wouldn't see going much of anywhere, but at the very least Hughly liked listening to what Frank had to say.

Floyd would be the one that Hughly would speak with the most, but also the one he disliked being around the most. Floyd would be working with Hughly on rocket engines and other mechanics (could he have also worked with Curnow when it came to building the Discovery One?), but that's all it was. Work, work, work. Floyd wouldn't give Hughly the time of day simply due to both of them there for work and nothing more. Floyd would silently wish that Hughly would open up slightly. Hughly would silently wish that Floyd would allow him to.

Chandra and Hughly I see getting along really well. They would've had more work opportunities to be by one another due to the nature of their space mechanical / computing work. If Hughly was assigned to working on the Discovery One, Chandra probably properly introduced him to Hal, considering he'd be working with him when it came to his installation within the Discovery One.

Hal would also take a liking to Hughly, while Hughly himself would be slightly taken aback due to the nature of Hal's existence. Hal would like him plenty due to how much he'd remind him of Chandra. Hughly would also come around eventually, likely due to how Hal would remind him of his pet otter Chibi.

... Okay I didn't mean to make this as long as I did actually. Waves to vast unknown.

[twothpaste]

Okay, hear me out: Jeff's mom. I think divorce. What do you think?

Oh, bigly. In the 2thpaste cinematic universe, the Andonuts divorce went down when Jeff was three. ("It's been ten years since I last saw you, hasn't it, my boy…!") Doc & Mom were surely an odd couple to begin with. My Jeff grows up to be like 6'6", and my Dr. Andonuts is like 4'10" - naturally, big guy must've gotten his height from the maternal side. The image of an imposing giraffe lady married to an itty bitty little man just cracks me up. I also imagine her having a no-nonsense attitude, to contrast his lackadaisical silliness. Considering Andonuts' age, I picture 'em being an older couple. Both independent sorts. Maybe a funny grad school flick that got back together in their 40's or 50's, some wild shit like that. Probably weren't planning on having any kids at all, much less this late in life, but shit happens.

They went into it with a lot of earnest optimism. However, when everyone's favorite goofball scientist consistently prioritized his work over his family, leaving Mrs. Andonuts to tend a toddler mostly by her lonesome, she didn't have the patience for it. Divorce was a given. The Doc, too socially disengaged to really acknowledge the severity of the problem, simply accepted it and went on about his business. Jeff always had his mom to come home to, but the divorce stirred up a lot of drama & internal turmoil nonetheless…

For those who might be interested: I have chattered a bit about Jeff's divorce woes and his mom before, [in the last paragraph here]. I still need to name her though. 🤔

[samarecharm]

thank you for the long response! it was geniunely a very interesting read!! also i did not want to imply that you have to 100% like something or else drop it, that was not my intention (/_;)/~~ i just wanted to know what were the pros that outweighed the cons for you to continue the game!! i definitely have my own rant about the persona 5, as much as i love it.

i'm someone who has sunk hundreds of hours (i think about 400) into persona 5 royal, i have played the original as well and,,,,, i don't remember every bit of it as i got much more into royal, but your response definitely dug up some memories of my own gripes with the game as it was then. i bought strikers once i had a switch!! i was super excited to see ryuji and the rest of the gang again, but due to life stuff and me generally not being a fan of button smashers/combo games, i only got like 3 hours into it before i left it alone. also the lack of akechi was disheartening since after royal giving him more story i was wanting /still want more of him as royal, while not fully fixing his confidant, still improved majorly on his character in my opinion. but i trust your judgment, so do you have any tips to get back into strikers? it's really the gameplay that sticks out like a sore thumb to me, i'm not very dexterous with a controler and i get the hang of things quite slowly,,,, but again, thank you geniunely for responding so kindly and elaborating!! (*^ω^)

You are welcome 😊 I try to give the botd for questions like this, bc I have seen and received some very silly comments wrt to complaints of this game (and others people hold in high regard). Not that I am happy to see that you remembered some gripes w a game you liked, but it is easy to become a bit rosetinted about media you enjoy, and its good to go back and say ‘hey actually, theres some stuff i DO wish couldve been changed to make the experience better.’ At least u were polite about asking lmao

I think I am going to have the same problem I had before, so im going to preemptively put my strikers tips under the cut to stop it from bloating up dashboards 😭

I am aware that the warriors style gameplay is not for everyone; its very repetitive by its nature and it can be really bad on the hands if youre not used to it, so I unfortunately dont have a suggestion for making the combat portion of the game easier. But I am halfway through a ng+ of that game, so I at least have tips on how to make the combat less confusing, and how to spend less time on the actual combat itself.

Stick to one character and ignore literally anyone else in the beginning. I am so serious about this. The upgrades you get for ranking up teammates is used to enhance their combos, and that can be confusing in the beginning of the game. I had to fall back onto normal difficulty until i got the hang of everyones combos, so i suggest you do the same.

The ai for your teammates is surprisingly well done, and they will target enemy weaknesses and heal you before you NEED to be healed, which is always better than them simply forgetting to do so. They buff often, but they are a bit lax about debuffing without manual input (ann has Tarunda as a spell AND as a combo finisher, but she refuses to do either unless its targeting a tough enemy). You should prioritize builds that buff your entire team (so the competent team ai rips enemies to shreds) and debuffing enemies.

Combos are almost entirely optional if youre willing to jump in and out of Jails to replenish SP constantly. Spam spells, and switch teammates to spam their spells as well, then leave the Jail and return. Unlike the mainline games, leaving the metaverse does not pass time; only hitting important plot points like getting to the treasure and fighting the jailer counts towards progressing time, so you should abuse it as often as possible.

Due to [REDACTED] spoilers, you WILL need to at least master or understand three characters and their movesets. I obviously suggest Akira as one, but pick two more characters that work well with your playstyle. Ryuji was personally the easiest to understand; hes resistant to flinching, and his finishers are ‘hold X to kill everything around you’. Haru has a wide aoe for her combo finishers, letting her spin and shred through enemies or spam her grenade launcher infinitely. She has the added benefit of gaining more armor and reduced flinching during her hold finishers, so shes good for fighting bosses.

DONT fight those super hard burning enemies. They arent worth it 😭😭 you need to be at least 3-4 jails deep before u can even fight the one in shibuya jail 😭😭 theyre very easy to avoid, so just shimmy past them or ignore the area theyre in outright.

If you focus on understanding Akira, know that each persona has a unique set of finishers (yes, literally each one). If you are thinking of learning combos instead of just spamming spells, I suggest learning the pattern for executing his combos before focusing on what the finishers actually do. From there, you can test out finishers for each persona, and decide which ones are worth keeping based on that. I will say though, that the finishers kinda dont mean anything until you get to the end game, where high leveled personas will have spells like Concentrate or Debilitate as Finishers; but always know that a finisher spell is ALWAYS a spell that you can just as easily cast with SP. Dont make the game more stressful or complicated than you need it to be.

(As an addon, if you can understand Akiras moveset, then learning the other ones will be WAY easier since they are all virtually the same. The only thing you need to memorize is exactly what spell is used on their finishers; it took me forever to realize that Yusukes last finisher is…a combo enhancer…that makes his finishers last forever… and you would NOT know that unless u started learning his moveset since his ai never uses it)

If youre someone who wants to farm and level up to gain access to more personas, you should find the strong enemies around a map instead of constantly reclearing the entire jail. Unlike the mainline games, enemies do not respawn after leaving a floor; you gotta leave the jail and come back to make them respawn. If you are okay w the repetition, it is easier to memorize the spawns of strong enemies (not the minibosses that are burning) and beat them up for good exp and money, esp since all spawns are static. Silky in the Shibuya jail is the first one that comes to mind, since Ann is able to stunlock her w Agis, AND she spawns very close to one of the checkpoints (its before the underground section of shibuya but i cannot remember the name of it) making it easy to jump in and jump out to replenish SP, and continue farming.

And finally, despite what I just said, dont take the bosses of this game too seriously. They arent easy but they are absolutely doable without insane builds and optimization. Bosses have aids in the form of interactables of their respective weaknesses (Shibuya has party poppers with wind affinitiy thats eventually used on the boss to stun them.) Stock up on healing personas, Stock up on Items from Sophias shop, and target weaknesses whenever you can to force an allout attack as fast as possible. The combat can be overwhelming, but at the end of the day, the combat is really just ‘run around from attacks and spam spells or combos until the thing dies’. I hope that helps a little bit, and if push comes to shove, i will always recommend watching a playthrough instead of fighting through a game that feels like a slog to get through. Most of the story comes from the cutscenes and city interactions, so you arent missing much by watching someone beat up shadows for u lol and bc i genuinely LOVE the characters they introduce, its worth it to learn about them.

It sucks that Goro isnt in the game, but it was made prior to Royal iirc (the japanese release was the only one available for some time). I will say though, the themes of this game fit him so perfectly, and if youre of the mind to speculate and make aus, then you will be joining me in the obsession of making Goro interactions w the team. Palaces were about corrupted peoples desires distorting the world around them, and they were always someone so reprehensible, you were not intended to sympathize w them and even debate if what the thieves were doing was wrong. But Jails serve an entirely different purpose, and the end result is having Rulers with depth to them, and the overarching theme of ‘if you fuck up your life and others over the decisions you thought were correct, can you recover?’ And the answer is always ‘yes. No matter what, you can always start over if you intend to do better and be better’, and I think thats a good reason to see the entire story through :)

[tvrningout-archived]

yes i still need to reread n.aruto to get a handle on my verses but that doesn't stop me from thinking about how chiyo naturally falls into a leadership role within her team bc whether no one else steps up or the person who does step up has a bad plan, she'll speak up. she doesn't shy from taking charge nor from sharing her thoughts. why would she when chiyo knows what she's doing? but it's kinda funny bc chiyo won't call herself the leader if someone were to ask. in her mind, she's just good at strategy, so people listen to her. a leader is more than a good strategist.

which is true! but the thing is that chiyo isn't only a good strategist. she mediates when things get sour between her teammates; she pays attention to how they can improve and how they're doing; she prioritizes their safety over her own; she feels responsible if one of them gets hurt; she cares for her team, pushes them, and takes responsibility for them.

people don't listen to her just bc she's good at strategy but bc she's good at leading.

chiyo doesn't like to hear it or discuss it, though. at least not in her younger years. it's silly, but it's like talking about it, beginning to accept it, will jinx it, and honestly! it's a scary thought to be responsible for other people. even if she naturally steps into a leadership position, chiyo doesn't want to think too much what that entails and simply focus on their tasks for the time being.

[magnusth]

I've had a few translation classes back when i was studying Japanese, and I just wanna strike a blow for Foreignization and against excessive localization. Of course, you need to consider flow and making sure your prose is smooth and readable, and no matter what strategies you employ, you will need to deal with major linguistic differences, untranslatable puns, etc. The use of various levels of politeness and formality in Japanese, how to address the issues of pronouns, etc, are all issues with no real good solution that you will need to find or create equivalencies for in your target language.

However. I think translators too often prioritize their audience's immediate understanding, which I think can be a major issue. It is, for my money, better to leave in an awkward sentence than to remove the Japanese characteristics of a text. If you translate a story about a night worker at a 7-11 in tokyo and it comes out sounding like a story about a night worker at a 7-11 in new york, that's a failed translation.

Fundamentaly, different audiences can and should interact with a text differently, and take different things from it. One example above was changing "i love you" in English to a suitably poetic phrase in Japanese. While the example was an author attempting to preserve the emotional impact, a perfectly reasonable and rational goal, i do want to suggest that the other option would have been as good; it is okay for a foreign poem to be odd to you; it's okay if you miss information because words carry different context in different languages. That's one of the ways we learn about other cultures, and that experience can give rise to genuine interest and curiosity. You can't appreciate the differences or the unique characteristics of a text if it is being obscured from you by overzealous localization.

Lastly, I want to say that i think it's often important to maintain the actual semantic meaning of a sentence. Obviously this can sometimes be hard or impossible (Japanese is simply more meaning-dense because of its formality etc), and sometimes it would be silly (directly translating idioms or puns). I'm not arguing for total word-for-word translation. But a sentence like "i love you," in addition to conveying emotional content and being a social action also caries a literal meaning; it removes ambiguity. Of course, that can be what makes it unsuitable in Japanese, a language where ambiguity is the norm (and, once you understand the conventions, not all that ambiguous). Nevertheless, its meaning is important. If i say "i love you," I can be held up on that, that is a definitive statement, if i act contrary to it, i can be called a liar or a cheat. While a suitably poetic Japanese equivalent may convey the emotional meaning of using 'i love you' in a conversation in English, there's nevertheless a difference - by their nature, ambiguous Japanese statements can be understood multiple ways, and even if the implied meaning is clear, you can't be held to it in the same way. Even if it isn't ever directly referenced, is the speaker is never held up on the implied promise of 'i love you,' that statement marks a difference, the semantic clarity matters to what a character is doing when they say 'i love you.' Of course, i don't know if that's relevant in the actual poem referenced, I'm just using the statement as an example of why you should be very careful completely removing the actual semantic content of a sentence.

the thing you need to realize about localization is that japanese and english are such vastly different languages that a straight translation is always going to be worse than the original script. nuance is going to be lost and, if you give a shit about your job, you should fill the gaps left with equivalent nuance in english. take ff6, my personal favorite localization of all time: in the original japanese cefca was memorable primarily for his manic, childish speaking style - but since english speaking styles arent nearly as expressive, woolsey adapted that by making the localized english kefka much more prone to making outright jokes. cefca/kefka is beloved in both regions as a result - hell, hes even more popular here

[chaiseao3o]

Self Reflection Essay

During the busy pledge quarter, it has been difficult to really sit down with myself and realize how much time has passed. Although it has only been a mere two short months, I think that this quarter has shaped me into a very different person for the better. At the beginning of the quarter, I made it one of my goals to start taking more steps towards finding my community here at UCLA. This does not mean that I need to force myself to meet with other people or try to find some sort of common ground. However, I think opening myself up to more conversations and diversifying the types of people I normally to has already made such a big difference. Since meeting my pledge brothers, I have been introduced to so many silly and different personalities that I can surprisingly relate to and have a great time with. I am so glad that I have learned how to push myself in that sense.

Another way that I have pushed myself is by being quite open to being embarrassed and simply “living for the plot”. Although pledge has had its moments where it pushed me to my social limits, I think that the experience has been incredibly rewarding in helping me realize that a lot of the things I do are really not that serious. I have learned that it is okay to live in the moment and not have to plan ahead for the next thing. That being said, time management is still incredibly important. However, I think that in the past I constricted myself to a rigid schedule that did not give me much leeway to have fun and be as spontaneous as I naturally am. Pledge quarter has taught me that the best memories are often the ones that you do not plan to make, especially when you are with 14 other confused individuals in the middle of campus at 4 AM in the morning. 

Although I have changed so much, I think there is definitely room for improvement. One thing I want to work on this summer is getting back on my study grind and following a structured study schedule again. During pledge, I have learned that I am not the best at managing my time when it is limited, and that I need to learn how to prioritize certain assignments. Learning what and how much to prioritize some tasks has been the most difficult lesson so far, but I think that I can definitely improve it by testing out different methods and continuing to learn about what works for other people.

[tyonfs]

game on.

❝ you play your games, and i’ll play mine. ❞

PAIRING ▸ liu yangyang x fem!reader

GENRES ▸ smut, friends to lovers, some fluff and crack

WARNINGS ▸ profanity, hendery being oblivious as fuck, dirty talk, smut, oral sex, some aftercare

SUMMARY ▸ the lines have always been blurred between you and yangyang. you, fed up with your best friend being an absolute boy and gaming away his problems, decided to take matters into your own hands.

WORD COUNT ▸ 3238 words

AUTHOR’S NOTE ▸ hello! i impulsively wrote this so consider this my contribution for yangyang day ♡ i hope you guys enjoy !!

YOU WERE PISSED.

It wasn’t like you were expecting much. You just wanted to spend the evening with your best friend on the one day you both had time to hang out, but he clearly had other plans. YangYang had been playing video games all day while you were just sitting on his bed and watching him like an idiot. You rolled your eyes, going through your phone for about the umpteenth time as you listened to him yell commands at Hendery.

“Go mid, go mid!” he shouted into his mic, furiously clicking his mouse and tapping keys in tune with his command.

You finally gave up and walked over to him, tapping his shoulder to get his attention. “YangYang,” you called with a frown. “We were supposed to watch a movie tonight.”

YangYang, startled, took off his headphones for a moment to peer up at you. “What did you say? Sorry, I couldn’t hear you.”

You despised the gentleness of his tone. YangYang was definitely sweet by nature and had good intentions (save for his wild streak), but sometimes he was simply insensitive and ignorant of his actions. You wondered if he knew how annoying it was for you to have to sit on his bed for over an hour just to be ignored. It didn’t exactly help that you had the biggest crush on him and overanalyzed every single word and action.

You narrowed your eyes at him. “Fine, YangYang. Keep playing your silly game,” you snapped and went back to his bed with a scowl. “I’ll just sit here and do nothing.”

YangYang seemed to realize that he had been neglecting you, so he mumbled a curt apology to Hendery into his mic and paused his game. It sounded as if Hendery was whining, but YangYang turned off his mic and put his headset down. He got up and walked over to you, sitting at the edge of his bed where you were curled up.

He raised a brow at you. “Happy?”

That tone of his just pissed you off even more.

“You can go back to playing your game if that’s what you want,” you mumbled, clearly jealous that he was prioritizing his game over you.

“I want to spend time with you.” YangYang slid his hand over yours, giving it a gentle squeeze. “I’m sorry for gaming while you were over.”

You let yourself be vulnerable and crumble for a moment, but then you ducked your head so he couldn’t see, mumbling, “I’ve been waiting here like an idiot.”

“Hug?” he offered, hoping it would make up for his wrongdoings.

You pursed your lips. You refused to give in so easily, especially when it came to Liu YangYang. He had a knack for getting what he wanted with a simple flash of that dazzling grin. In short, you were tired of having to wait for him.

You weren’t sure if that meant wait for him to hang out with you or notice your feelings for him, but both answers seemed to align well.

The lines had always been blurred between you two. It had gotten to the point where even his friends didn’t believe him when he would say he wasn’t dating you. Maybe what gave it away was the way you both would hug for a little too long, or the lingering stares, or maybe even the way he’d hold your hand when he didn’t have to.

However, whenever the topic of dating arose, you’d either shy away from the conversation or change the topic quickly.

“No.” You stood up, dragging him up by the arm and over to his gaming setup. You sat him down in his chair and slung a leg around his thigh, sliding onto his lap. “You keep playing.”

YangYang seemed to stiffen up as you straddled him, tucking your head into his shoulder. He kept you close to him, though, and placed a hesitant hand on the small of your back. You could hear him swallow thickly as he put his headphones back on and rejoined his game. He didn’t question your command, but you could tell he was much more jittery.

You turned your head a little. You could see the blush on his face and the tension in his jaw.

You scooted up further into his lap, noting how he froze as you did. Your arms wrapped around his neck, and although the two of you were practically cuddling, it felt odd with Hendery’s voice coming from YangYang’s headphones.

“Dude, where were you?” Hendery asked. “The enemy team nearly got your turret.”

“Sorry about that,” YangYang apologized, looking like a bundle of nerves, which was something you hadn’t seen before. You shifted slightly and YangYang quickly turned off his mic before cursing under his breath. “D-don’t do that.”

You stilled. YangYang just stammered, and you swore you could hear his breath hitch. A devious part of you wanted to take this further and see where it would go.

“Don’t do what?” you asked innocently, adjusting your position subtly.

There it was.

YangYang’s hard-on pressing into your thigh. The bulge from his grey sweatpants was so obvious, and it sent butterflies to your stomach. You couldn’t stop yourself from exhaling sharply into YangYang’s neck, making his erection grow and your head spin.

“That,” he grunted out, hand coming back from the keyboard to hold your lower back again.

“You seem to be enjoying it,” you observed, biting your lip as you felt him twitch under you.

Your best friend clearly didn’t want to push you, but he was enticed, and it made your heart race. “You mean… you want to?” he asked slowly.

“Yeah,” you said, hiding your face so you didn’t have to meet his eyes. This was all you’ve ever wanted, of course, but you still wanted pay-back for being neglected. “Keep playing your game.”

YangYang continued playing, although you noticed the slight shift. There was a tremor in his hands and he was very unsure about his hand placement every time he came back to hold your back. Although, you underestimated his confidence because when you were least expecting it, he bucked his hips up against yours.

You bit back a mewl, one hand gripping his shoulder tightly as his movements became repetitive. You weren’t looking at him but you knew YangYang was smug, trying to get a response out of you. You arched your hips off of his lap and he grabbed your waist, pushing you back down, right onto his rock-hard boner.

YangYang bit your earlobe as his hot breath fanned the side of your neck. You bit the inside of your cheek to keep quiet, but it was impossible when he was rolling hips up against yours. You could almost picture the smirk on his face.

You whimpered out softly, dangerously close to his mic. Initially, you didn’t mind, only thinking about his reaction to your sounds, until you realized the worst had happened. Fear shot down your spine as you straightened up quickly.

His mic was on.

“What was that?” you heard Hendery ask.

“Louis,” YangYang replied smoothly.

“Louis? He’s at my place.”

“Um…” YangYang trailed off. “Anyways, let’s push bot since we’re at their base.” He turned off his mic again and pulled you back to him, nibbling at the base of your neck. “Panties off,” he murmured, sliding his sweats and boxers down just enough for his cock to spring free.

YangYang had, once again, gotten his way.

Your breath hitched at the sight of his throbbing cock. Desire coiled in your gut, making your entire body flush. You got off of his lap to do as he said, looping your fingers in your belt loops to tease your shorts down.

YangYang did a double take, finding it hard to focus on the game and on you at the same time. His eyes briefly met yours before they trained on your lower body, lust clouding them. Before you could take off your panties, however, YangYang was slain in the game, and had to turn on his mic as Hendery started complaining.

“That jungler is a pain in the ass!” Hendery whined. “But, dude, you’ve only got five kills so far. You good?”

“Yeah, um, I’m not doing so hot this game,” YangYang replied, shooting you a glance and leaning back in his chair as he waited out the cooldown. “The heat’s getting to me, I guess.”

“YangYang, it’s winter,” Hendery replied. YangYang closed his eyes for a moment, opening his mouth to retort, but Hendery continued, “Shit, okay, come mid with me.”

YangYang hummed in agreement and turned his mic off, a darker look in his eyes when he turned to you. “Suck me off, baby,” he said in a low voice, adding, “please.”

“But we were supposed to—”

You stopped yourself as a flush of heat crept up your neck. YangYang looked amused as you bit your lip and got to your knees, crawling toward him so that you were between his legs. When you looked up at him, he looked as if he was at his limit.

YangYang ran his thumb along your lower lip, hand cradling your chin. “I’ll make you feel good after this game, baby,” he reassured.

You nodded, pouting at how flustered he was making you feel. Getting distracted again, YangYang moved his attention to his game again, tapping keys repeatedly. You narrowed your eyes, displeased at the lack of attention.

You play your games, and I’ll play mine, you thought bitterly.

This was an unpredictable jump in your relationship with him, and you were just realizing it as you took ahold of his cock, loving how it twitched in your grip. Your lips grazed the soft skin, causing him to hiss through his teeth, squirming a bit in his seat.

YangYang’s breathing was growing ragged and uneven.

You closed your eyes and took the head of his cock into your mouth, hesitating before sucking lightly on it. You looked up at him through your lashes and smiled at how a vein appeared on his neck. YangYang unmuted his mic to reply to Hendery’s commands, removing his hand from the keyboard to grab your hair in a fistful and push you down on his cock.

A loud whimper escaped you as the head of his cock hit the back of your throat. Finding a balance between teasing and careful, you bobbed your head, relishing how the thick veins along his length pulsated against your tongue. YangYang had to mute again, letting out a low and guttural groan when you started building up a faster rhythm.

He died again in the game.

Loser, you thought childishly.

But now, YangYang could focus on you while he was on cooldown. He tugged at your hair, whining when you pulled off of him. You met his eyes and lapped at his slit that was leaking with precum. YangYang’s eyes darkened and he thrusted back into your mouth, making you whimper as you suddenly took him in your throat. You moaned against his cock and let him fuck your throat, digging your nails into his thighs.

You were startled when he seized up, grunting as his hot seed shot down your throat. You swallowed it and pulled off of him, wiping your mouth with a proud glint dancing in your eyes.

YangYang let out a pleased little sigh. “Sit on my lap, baby.”

His cooldown was over.

You got up from your spot on the floor and straddled his lap again, but YangYang was wrecked. He saw your eager expression and chuckled, bemused. He unmuted his mic to speak to Hendery but let his fingers dip into your panties, rubbing his slender fingers against your clit in slow circles.

“P-please,” you breathed out, hands gripping his shoulders for leverage.

“Patience, baby,” YangYang cooed in your ear.

“What did you just call me?” Hendery’s dumbfounded voice resounded from the speakers. “Did you say baby?”

“You’re hearing things,” YangYang brushed off while you wanted to die of embarrassment.

“Yo, we did it!” Hendery cheered a minute later while YangYang was still working on your clit. The words victory flashed across the screen in bright blue. “Dude, you wanna play TFT to celebrate?”

“Yeah, no,” YangYang said bluntly, ending the call and tossing his headphones onto his desk so he could turn his attention to you. He ghosted his hands along your sides. “I have my prize right here.”

“YangYang,” you whined out since he left your clit alone before you could finish.

“I’m sorry for ignoring you,” he mumbled, kissing down the column of your neck. “Let me make it up to you.”

YangYang rubbed your hips in slow circles before removing your shirt carefully, examining your body with hungry eyes. He leaned forward to press kisses from your stomach to your chest, making your heart thunder in your chest. When he reached your chest, his hands slid to the back to unhook your bra. With an easy snap, he unhooked the undergarment and slid the straps down, biting his lip at the sight of you in full glory.

“You’re so beautiful,” he whispered, peppering kisses around your nipple and then sucking lightly on the bud.

“YangYang,” you cried out softly.

Your best friend broke away for a moment to open his drawer behind you pulling out a little silver packet. You watched him tear it open and slide the latex around his throbbing cock. How he managed to get it up again was beyond your understanding. After all, horny boys will be horny boys.

He leaned back in his seat, smirking up at you. “Go ahead, baby, fuck yourself on my cock,” he instructed, grabbing his shirt by the nape so he could slide it off, revealing his v-cut abs.

You swallowed hard.

First of all, YangYang was absolutely hung.

Second of all, you had no experience in this field of sexual activity. This was feeling more like paranormal activity because you had no idea how his massive cock was going to fit inside you without rearranging your guts.

“But you’re so… big,” you whispered, looking at his length as he gave it a few pumps.

A soft look crossed YangYang’s face. He picked you up easily, hands gripping your thighs as he laid you on his bed. There was so much care and softness to his touch as he got over you and lined himself with your entrance. The way he looked down at you was full of pure adoration and it made your breath get caught in your throat.

“Ready?” he asked, moving your hair out of your face.

You bit your lip and nodded, bracing yourself by holding onto his shoulders.

You thought he would start, but to your surprise, he pressed his lips to yours, one hand gently cupping your face. You kissed him back fervently, wrapping your arms around his neck. Lost in the taste of his lips, YangYang slowly pushed himself into you, a strangled groan tearing past his lips at how tight you were. You broke from the kiss to tuck your face into his shoulder, crying out as you were stuck in the crossroads of pain and pleasure.

YangYang’s grip on your waist tightened. “Fuck, babygirl.”

“You’re so big,” you replied with a pleased sigh, your hand sliding up the nape of his neck to curl into his hair. Your hips shifted a little as your walls adjusted around him.

“Damn right I am,” YangYang replied smugly, starting to thrust in you at a leisurely pace. He slid a hand into your hair and groaned as your walls squeezed around him. “God, your cunt’s so fucking tight.”

“Oh, shut up,” you huffed, flustered by his comment. A moan escaped your lips when he hit a certain spot in you that set you on fire. “R-right there!”

“Nice and vocal,” he cooed, slowing down his pace in favor of deeper thrusts, “just how I like it.” A groan tore past his lips as he fucked you into the mattress. “I want to feel this,” he growled. “I want to feel you.”

Waves of pleasure hit you with each thrust, overwhelming you to the point of tears streaming down your face. He was so big and you could feel him in your lower abdomen, but the pain eased away and you could only feel yourself on the edge of euphoria.

“Shit, YangYang, it feels so good,” you mewled out weakly. “H-harder.”

YangYang grabbed ahold of your legs and moved them over his shoulders while he pinned your hips down. He let out a shaky breath and slammed into you harder, making sure to linger whenever he went as deep as he could. You were a moaning mess by now, holding onto him for dear life as he pounded inside of you.

You were already so close, pre-stimulated from him fingering your clit earlier, and his powerful thrusts were making you lose your grip.

“Look at me,” he ordered.

You nodded weakly, meeting his intense gaze. “I think I’m close,” you told him in a breath.

“Cum for me, angel,” YangYang urged, moving his hand down to rub your clit again as he quickened his pace. “I want to hear you say my name. Who’s making you cum?”

“Y-you, YangYang,” you sobbed, digging your nails into his back. “F-fuck—”

You couldn’t even finish what you were saying, nor did you remember what you were going to say because you fell off the edge first. You broke apart in front of him, crying out in pure bliss as you released against his cock. The pleasure in your gut that was building up had now flooded your body, but YangYang still fucked you through your orgasm until he, too, fell apart.

Sweat beaded your flushed skin, but you only noticed it when YangYang’s forehead was against yours, his breathing slow and heavy. He pulled out of you, using up the little energy he had to toss the used condom in the trash before he trudged back to his bed. He got in next to you and pulled you to his body, enveloping you into his warmth.

“I’m sorry if I was too rough,” he mumbled against your skin.

You were still catching your breath, still winded from your orgasm. Now, YangYang was so tender, so gentle, that you were at a loss for words. It was almost laughable compared to the filthy words that were coming from his mouth early.

You cuddled close to him, wrapping a leg around his hip. “Don’t be,” you said with a smile. “It felt really good.”

YangYang grinned and kissed your forehead, your cheeks, then pressed a chaste kiss to your lips. You scrunched up your nose at the contact but he just kissed all over your face.

“I’m glad you felt the same way,” he murmured. “I was starting to get scared that we would just have perpetual tension between us forever.”

“Of course not,” you said with a laugh. “Xiaojun would’ve beat you up if you kept denying anything between us.”

“Well, now I can stop denying it, at least,” he mused, holding up your hand to his lips so he could kiss your knuckles.

“I still can’t believe we did that.”

“I mean,” YangYang started, plastering an easy smile on his face, “I’m always good to go again.”

Needless to say, you ended up taking him up on that offer for a few more rounds.

[hummussexual]

I grow tired of “queer influencer activists.” You may or may not know the type. Their Instagram feeds are composed of infographics, screenshots of their own or (usually) other people’s tweets, sandwiched between selfies with long captions saying nothing at all. Their modus operandi is creating share-able or easily digestible content which a social media follower can repost because all of the thinking has already been done for them. This is designed to make the copious amounts of complex information circulating online less overwhelming, like a SparkNotes for someone who wants to be able to drop, “yes, and isn’t it ironic how conservatives refuse to wear masks but would wear them during the AIDS crisis to avoid catching it?” in a group chat or in affected conversation in a club smoking area.

Through a combination of self-assertion and a collective culture of low standards, these influencers have established themselves as thought leaders — particularly when it comes to finding the “queer angle” on whatever latest news item, whether serious or banal. If you spend any time observing queer social media, these people become inescapable. Maybe you side-eye when you see a follower mindlessly reshare a graphic from that same account again, or perhaps you yourself throw something a “like” while passively scrolling. It’s a great engagement strategy for the influencer — calls to “share,” “save,” and (my favorite) “boost this post” equate so-called “algorithm-defiance” (gaming Instagram’s system of prioritizing or hiding posts by using all engagement tools) with activism through digital communication. Resharing an infographic about ��how to be a good ally during Pride month” or whatever is presented as akin to tweeting during the Arab Spring.

Beyond simply being annoying, the bigger problem is that the content and claims these influencers post are so often specious. Many of their posts, endlessly reshared, fall into a category of folk knowledge I call “things that sound true, and so must be true.” The verification system many followers use to vet the accuracy of these posts seems to be pure vibes. A sense that, because what is written feasibly aligns with a vague understanding of structural oppression, then it is undeniably true, and unquestionable.

One particularly irksome example of this recently came from the influencer activist and author Adam Eli, who has over 100,000 Instagram followers. In a tweet, which was copied to Instagram, Eli wrote in response to the Russian invasion of Ukraine, “In times of war, marginalized people are always hit first. This includes queer people, especially trans people. Below is a list of organizations that are helping queer people in the Ukraine.” This is incoherent, of course. The Russian invasion has launched an indiscriminate bombing campaign which endangers all Ukrainians, regardless of identity. But I nevertheless saw this claim shared across Instagram stories countless times.

It’s understandable why. The proliferation of an ill-defined and silly version of intersectionality discourse online has made it such that every event and circumstance is instantly framed in terms of its alleged effects on marginalized groups. This isn’t a bad instinct, but systems of oppression are complex, there is not a one-size-fits-all model for how different communities are affected by those in power. The rapid, reactive nature of online discourse is antithetical to nuanced understanding. It compels the social justice-minded among us to frame all events and all circumstances through the idea that, within a complex chain of oppression, we can universally expect outcomes to be worst felt by the most socially marginalized groups. This simply does not apply to Ukraine. Ukraine has military conscription, with reservists, men and boys obligated to stay and fight against invading forces. While Ukrainian women have been granted the right to fight in combat since 2016, and conscription has been expanded to women, the reality is still that the majority of soldiers are men and boys. The country is reported to have banned all male citizens between the ages of 18 and 60 from fleeing the country. What has any of this to do with queerness?

Any serious assessment of gender as it operates in the context of war would understand that these men and boys are victims — war inflicts a cold and broken masculinity which physically and psychologically damages men, often beyond repair. If we’re to introduce axes of exploitation, it is poor and working-class men, whose lives are literally disposable during wartime, that are sent off to die to protect the interests of an elite class of overlords. Certainly many of them will be queer, but that is not the subject position upon which they are being recruited to fight for their country. Marginalized groups of course face specific harms that relate to their social position. On conquered lands, women often become victims of mass sexual violence from invading forces. And certainly I support donations to The Ukrainian’s Women’s Guard which work to prepare women for the extreme conditions of wartime. As we are seeing, racial hierarchies in Europe have meant that Ukrainian nationals are enabled to escape occupation while African medical students are left to languish at the border. Certainly too, queer people face the prospect of political imprisonment and restrictions of freedom. But this “first hit” analysis centered singularly on queerness is not only unable to track the specific short- and long-term harms faced, it actually obfuscates them.

Many claim that these kinds of posts are well-meaning and attempt to elevate alternative voices, but the thoughtlessness underpinning much of it is striking. In Eli’s example, firstly, their suggestion of donations needing to be distributed to groups such as Kyiv Pride and NGO Insight is an odd choice. I looked at the social media profiles of some of the groups recommended to donate to, finding posts about “aromantic spectrum awareness week,” and wondered why these would be the priority. With no disrespect to these organizations, who surely do need donations and resources at large, wouldn’t it be more sensible to direct funds to groups which provide disaster relief, humanitarian assistance, and can transport people out of conflict zones — services which would inevitably have a net positive impact on queer Ukrainians? Individuals in the comments section of Eli’s Instagram pointed out this issue, but they seem to have been ignored.

There is a deeply rooted narcissism that lies at the heart of a lot of online queer politics. Queer influencer activists scramble to frame all things through queerness as it allows them to insert themselves into narratives for issues which have nothing much to do with them at all.

Eli has a history of this. In fact, this urge has informed their own writing, presenting the theory that “queer people anywhere are responsible for queer people everywhere” in their book The New Queer Conscience. It’s a bizarre claim — an impossibly high burden to meet if sincerely held beyond the playground of infographics and paint-by-numbers activism guides. It leads not so much to humane concerns with international crises, but a centering of the feeling and savior instincts of queer people living in the global north. This mentality has that same smug flavor of “I’m illegal in 72 countries,” and can easily be used as the pre-text for imperial aims of liberating queer people from savages of their nations. As Daniel Spielberger writes in a review of Eli’s work, it is dependent on a flattening of liberation struggles which have little to do with each other — “drawing up a web of oppression that links gay men in Chechnya to Black transgender women in the United States reflects a highly superficial understanding of what are in reality quite disparate issues.” I suppose it means that Eli, or any of their passionate Western followers, could imagine that they, too, are a queer person fleeing heavy bombardment in Kyiv, and that this is the only lens through which they can empathize with a colonized people.

Eli is just one of many culprits. I was particularly wound up by a recent, now-deleted, tweet from influencer activist Matt Bernstein, posted on Instagram to 967,000 users and tweeted to 126,000 people, both under the handle @mattxiv. In response to a Terrence Higgins Trust statement which claimed “the number of new HIV diagnoses in heterosexual people is higher than in gay and bisexual men for the first time in a decade,” Bernstein responded, “that’s crazy will they be allowed to donate blood?” It’s the kind of frog-and-teacup emoji one-liner that’s instantly rewarded with virality. Before deletion, the post had over 12,000 retweets, 50,000 likes, and was shared absolutely everywhere. But this comment from Bernstein was not smart, it was actively offensive, and in fact cruel. It rests on the preposterous idea that the “heterosexual people” being infected are a homogeneous blob composed of middle-class conservative white men who manage over discriminatory blood donation laws.

This is not the case. Among straight people in the United Kingdom, HIV incidence is most sharply felt among migrant groups, and particularly Black Africans. In 2017, 46 percent of new HIV diagnoses among women were Black African, compared to 23 percent among white women, with HIV being transmitted via heterosexual sex. Bernstein’s sassy dunk does not account for this — nor for the fact that a number of ethnic minority groups beyond MSM have been excluded from blood donation, for reasons as outrageous as having travelled to Sub-Saharan Africa. In a public response to Bernstein’s statement, the writer and academic Zoé Samudzi wrote, “Black women carry a huge burden of new infections. In the US, black women account for something like 60 percent of new infections among women despite being 15 percent of the population.” Bringing this back to US statistics reveals the arrogance and desperation to comment inherent to Bernstein’s response — he has appropriated statistics coming out of the United Kingdom for viral social media content, despite the fact that he lives in the United States, where an “unconscionable number” of Black men who have sex with men in particular are still dying of AIDS-related illness, and where, as Samudzi writes, Black women bear the brunt of new infections among heterosexuals. Bernstein’s ignorance therefore depends on viewing queerness as the only dimension of social vulnerability. As the feminist and political scientist Cathy J Cohen writes, “very near the surface in queer political action is an uncomplicated understanding of power as it is encoded in sexual categories: all heterosexuals are represented as dominant and controlling and all queers are understood as marginalized and invisible.”

After Samudzi’s intervention, Bernstein deleted and backtracked on these comments. But it’s yet another example of “post first, think later.” Not all of Bernstein’s content is necessarily as cruel and misjudged as this, most of it is simply annoying. The tone of urgency and sass is uniform whether discussing the most trivial issues, from “unsexy M&M’s” to serious concerns like the risk of terrorist massacres of school children. It’s all in that same, sparkly, rainbow-adorned gradient. The uniformity of this register points to what the writer Rachel Connolly calls “this sense of twitchy anxiety about the state of the world [that] seems to be transposed onto smaller problems” — scroll past enough of these and everything begins to feel equally urgent.

This general vapidity is exhausting. What do these influencers have to gain? Followers, I suppose. Visibility. Attention. Brand partnerships. Publishing contracts. But I also wonder about the people who consistently share and engage with these posts. I suppose there is no harm in wanting easy-to-read content, guidance to help us make sense of a convoluted world. But so often what is most widely read and shared is wrong. What should be used as a jumping off point for learning about an issue ends up being the final word for many. Having to walk back from something that was shared without thinking is embarrassing. And so I wish that people would think critically and not have so much blind faith in these people.

I’d like to think that those who shared the idea that queer people suffer first in war feel a genuine despair for LGBTQ+ Ukrainians and wish to spotlight their suffering. My more cynical instincts tell me that this is another form of shallow digital queer politics that can only empathize through the lens of queerness — or views queerness as a satisfactory, singular prism for assessing oppression and struggle. The graphic Eli used to accompany their post about Ukraine was one of friendly looking queer protestors, beautifully adorned with pride hearts and flags. I wonder if you could ever elicit the same empathy, or a call for asylum, using the imagery of a burly, menacing-looking, straight Ukrainian man.

I sometimes feel lost with all this. I hope that people read more, and read not only one narrative, but opposing sources. I sometimes want to tell people that, actually, you do need to read and engage with the difficulty of these issues and you can’t hope to learn through Instagram, even if you use it as a starting block. But it feels as though we are too far gone, and the number of influencers posturing as intellectuals increases every day. In his book Get Rich or Lie Trying, the journalist Symeon Brown rejects Andy Warhol’s famous line that “in the future, everyone will be famous for 15 minutes,” affirming that social media has made it so “anyone can now be famous for far longer than 15 minutes.” Brown is correct. Activism by Canva sustains the relevance of these people far past their date of expiration. And God do we suffer for it.

Jason Okundaye is a London-based writer who comments on culture and society.

[headspace-hotel]

Ooh, new achievement unlocked: The Proto-Bad Take from which all known bad takes spring!

I appreciate getting replies like this, because it tells me that in a whole sphere of blogging separate to my own, at least one person has been seething with hatred for me without my knowledge. Thanks! Added to list of facts without actionable implications!

The Point, is that worldviews cannot be neatly divided into "direct access to truth with no model being used to interface with it" and "dinky little fairy tales and lies."

In the Americas, if you do any work at all in a field related to conservation and ecology and have a baseline level understanding and acknowledgement of Indigenous land management practices and their role in the ecosystem, you know that whatever the fuck derogatory and misrepresentative words you want to use for Indigenous models of the natural world, THOSE. MODELS. FUCKING. WORKED.

Because we can measure the biodiversity of a plot of land managed using traditional practices. We can sequence the DNA of food plants like maize and potatoes and link these plants to their wild ancestors from which they diverged in an incredible feat of bioengineering.

The land I live on was once an unrecognizable, highly managed landscape and it was far more biodiverse then than it is now! The near-collapse of Indigenous American societies in the East caused extinctions! It caused entire ecosystems to cave in on themselves!

If the Primitive Superstition(tm) is a worse model, show me the worse results! Show me a riparian habitat that supported more biodiversity when its caretakers let go of the silly superstition that a waterway is alive. Show me an oak savanna that regenerates plant life better when we get rid of the primitive, backward idea that the ground is alive and responds negatively to actions that harm it.

Why do you think conservation organizations increasingly use and promote Indigenous land management methods? Because of Woke SJWs? No, because they work, and we know they work, because we have a little thing called peer review

If you do any work in ecology anywhere (you don't) you also know that All Models Have Ideological Baggage.

Believe it or not (you probably won't), the Western (christian) concept of soul/spirit has also made it into the way we see biology.

We may not think we believe in souls, but our models of biology pay homage to the idea of an immaterial "essence" in ways that really fuck up our ability to understand ecosystems. Put simply, we still largely believe in the idea of individual organisms, when there is no fucking reason to believe this.

The dividing lines between "a single organism" and "two symbionts/a colony of organisms/a parent-daughter set?" They don't exist. The differences are not real.

You have in your cells mitochondria that have their own DNA left over from when your ancient ancestor swallowed up a whole other organism. This kind of event has occurred over and over again throughout evolution. You are a multicellular organism made of trillions of individual cells which are each capable of prioritizing their own survival, and those cells aren't even themselves One Thing.

Bryozoans take it a tier further. They are clonal colonies of "individuals" which each have their own reproductive organs, but "individuals" within the colony have levels of specialization like organs within a larger animal. Some of them have learned to crawl because the zooids on the outer edge of the colony give up the ability to feed so they can use their setae as legs.

In some species, the colony collectively shares a "brain" even as each individual literally shits out its "brain" every time it eats. But it gets weirder—two genetically distinct colonies can merge, fusing their network of brains and budding zooids at the site of the merge that are genetic chimeras of the two colonies.

Scientific papers on bryozoans can be hard to parse, because of what the English language allows for. The problem is semantic but it's also cultural (are semantic problems not cultural?) We believe that an "individuality" must reside at some tier of complexity within a living system, that there is an essential Something that makes an "organism" a separatable thing.

This is a model of reality, a philosophy on reality, and in many ways it is wrong. In a few ways it is horribly wrong. In the notes of this very post there is someone lamenting being expected to do an experiment using a "control" with sterile soil.

Soil is not a substance, it is a living system. Really, you can't have sterile soil any more than you can have a food chain develop between animals that are dead.

Lichens, despite being assemblages of multiple very distinct forms of life, are generally granted Individual tier status as a collective. And yet...nearly every plant community is a collective of fungus and plant, physically fused to one another (in AM symbiosis, the fungus penetrates inside the plant's cells! Consensually, mind you!) in a relationship that dates back to the earliest land plants we know of.

So much research in ecology nowadays is unpacking the baggage of the "individuals" idea. On what level does natural selection discriminate?—what difference is there between intraspecific and interspecific competition?

We think of species as discrete groups that compete with one another, but competition also occurs within species, and "species" can actually be a misleading idea, because a species doesn't necessarily have collective interests any more than a locus on a chromosome does.

Evolution doesn't necessarily deal in terms of "individuals!" A trait can evolve to be more prevalent even if the "individuals" that express that trait are sterile—because the trait confers collective advantages onto the organism's kin.

Modern "Western" culture tends to focus on the agency and interests of the individual, and this makes it really hard for us to understand some aspects of evolution—while making it easier for us to understand others.

I have read scientific papers that explore mycorrhizal symbiosis through the metaphor of a "market," using market economics to try to explain certain outcomes. Ecologists analyze the "decisions" of symbiotic partners using game theory. They refer to a such thing as an "evolutionary arms race."

We know that fungi and plants don't literally buy and sell in a marketplace, just like they don't literally have "souls," but we need a model in order to interface with reality, and that model can limit our thinking in some areas and free it in others.

A culture that didn't have a market economy wouldn't have access to the "market" metaphor to explain mycorrhizal symbioses.

Robin Wall Kimmerer references gift economies a lot when talking about nature. In her view, an ecosystem is held together by relationships of mutual obligation and reciprocity, as in a gift economy.

Both views are wrong. Both views are right. Both views capture the reality differently, and highlight different parts of it.

The core concept of the posts you say are the "proto-bad-take" is to highlight that seemingly "superstitious" or "spiritual" belief systems aren't diametrically opposed opposites to "scientific" belief systems. They may differ in the problems they can solve and the questions they can answer, but they are both models of reality.

The concept i'm asking you to consider is known as the map-territory relation. (You can look it up. It's neat.) And ultimately it's not about getting you to believe that "magic" is real; it's about getting you to realize that we regularly use "lies" to communicate with the truth, and that "believing in science" gives you different biases and blind spots, not total unfiltered access to reality

Was reading on wikipedia about how lots of ancient cultures had beliefs and traditions where you had to offer prayers and/or sacrifices if you wanted to cut down a tree because you were basically killing the spirit that lived within the tree and if you did that without good reason bad stuff would happen to you

we should bring that back. if you want to clear cut a forest you have to pray and sacrifice on behalf of every single tree

[delimeful]

or set your teeth against my throat (2)

warnings: illness, mild emeto, bad decisions, miscommunication, short panic attack/flashback

---

As the night turned to dawn and then day, Roman didn’t stop running.

He couldn’t stop, even as his pace grew more and more sluggish, his path erratic. Every time he thought about pausing, finding a good campsite and finally letting himself take a breath, it was as though phantom sensations grasped at his skin or tore at his throat.

He kept moving.

It was stupid, probably, being driven forward by fear like a mindless animal. … It was definitely stupid. Still, after ages spent trapped in one form, the full moon’s pull on the wolf in him was irresistible.

For the first time in ages, he worried about the possibility of coming astray of a human settlement once the moon was overhead. Normally, Virgil was the one who dedicated himself to making sure their pack’s turning ground was far from any stab-happy humans, always double and even triple-checking.

In his current state, Roman could barely discern a single natural scent around him, let alone any human scents he should avoid. He kept feeling eyes on him, silent watchers, but the distinction between reality and his own terrified delusions was growing thinner.

When the sun finally sank below the horizon, Roman allowed himself to collapse on a soft patch of earth under a shielding copse of saplings. He had some hope, however shallow, that by wearing himself out, his wolf would spend the night curled up somewhere, settled into a sleep heavy enough to erase the pounding headache settled deep in his skull.

He’d been a fool to let himself hope.

His memories while fully-turned were foggy as usual, but the emotions were clear: he’d spent his entire night on the move. His wolf had been howling long, agonized calls into the dark around him, desperately searching for the other members of his small pack. Desperately waiting for a response that would never come.

To top it all off, when he woke up human-shaped in the early hours of dawn, his headache had only grown worse.

His only turn of fortune was that his wolf hadn’t traveled back the way he’d come, driven away by some immutable sense of danger. He could at least be grateful he wouldn’t have to make up for any lost progress, even if his body was weak and trembling from being pushed past the brink of exhaustion.

The further he got from those bloodsuckers, the better.

His vision blurred slightly with each step. It was seeming more and more likely that he was growing feverish, though it was hard to tell with nobody else around to ask. He kept pressing a hand to his forehead and neck, trying to gauge his temperature, but his hands were warm, too.

He’d complained about his packmates’ terrible circulation and icy fingers before, but there was very little he wouldn’t do for them now… Just the phantom memory of Virgil’s cool hand on his head, voice sharp but touch unbearably gentle, was enough to make tears prick his eyes.

He took a deep breath, forcing himself up on shaky legs. There was no way he could give up now, feverish or not. What would his packmates advise?

“For survival, shelter and water are most important,” he mumbled to himself, wincing at the poor imitation. He cleared some of the raspiness from his throat, imagining Logan’s face when he really got into sharing his newest bit of knowledge. “Running water is preferable to still water, which can carry illnesses, and for larger rivers there is also the potential to find freshwater food sources, like salmon, catfish, bass, um… pike, trout… cod?” He frowned, losing the careful enunciation. “Wait, is salmon freshwater?”

Logan could have listed more off, Roman was sure, but the effort helped cheer him nonetheless. He spent the next few hours winding his way through the forest, attempting every so often to sniff the air for damp soil with little success.

His ears still worked fine, however, and so when he caught the first distant trickle of rushing water, he wasted no time in following the sound. It was no river, but the stream was plenty to help quench the dryness in the back of his throat.

“Go upstream,” he could imagine Virgil demanding, “make yourself harder to track. Wolves aren’t the only ones out there with good noses.”

“The water is so cold, though,” he complained to himself even as he began sloshing through it. “I have squishy human flesh, I’m going to freeze to death.”

Here was where Logan would point out his exaggeration, and Virgil would snap something snarky to distract him from the chill.

The burbling of the water was a poor substitute.

Once his feet grew truly chilled, he waded back out, mimicking Virgil’s voice to caution himself against the more slippery-looking rocks. He probably looked a little silly, holding both parts of a conversation, but it wasn’t as though anyone was around to see.

“Cut me some slack,” he muttered to nobody, allowing the comfort of his wolf form to slide back into place as the day turned to a chilly evening and he lay to rest. “I’m maybe-possibly-feverish, I deserve good things.”

He slept fitfully, and when he woke, there was a gray coat draped over him, and a small pile of walnuts and blackberries sat at his side, the nuts already shelled and the berries freshly washed.

The incredibly suspicious nature of their appearance only stopped Roman from eating them for about five minutes, and four of those five minutes were dedicated to imagining all the reasons Virgil would list to not eat them.

“Sorry, Virge,” he said through a mouthful of fruity deliciousness.

There didn’t seem to be anyone around, and no matter how he buried his face in the coat lining, his nose was too stuffed to pick up anything. It was an extraordinarily soft coat, though, and he felt awfully cold. It was hard for even him to imagine what harm could be done with a coat.

“I’m accepting this Possibly Evil Coat, but only for a little while, so don’t get any ideas!”

The woods were quiet in response to his declaration, and he sniffed daintily before climbing to his feet, internally bemoaning the way the world swayed slightly as he moved.

Couldn’t he just sleep here a bit longer…?

He imagined the unimpressed looks his packmates would give him. Imaginary Virgil in particular wouldn’t stand for sitting around when there was every possibility he was still being hunted.

“For all you know, that vamp was just a sick mind trick, and they’ve been toying with you this whole time!” Virgil would say, jumping to the worst-possible scenario that Roman always stalwartly tried to ignore. He shuddered, glancing around himself.

“You are not helping my mood, mister,” he muttered to Imaginary Virgil as he tromped through the underbrush with much less elegant grace than usual.

The little mystery offerings from the morning had helped stave off his plummeting energy levels, but they weren’t enough. It was only midday when the lightheadedness and the chills shuddering through him became too much, and he found himself collapsed on the ground between one blink and the next.

He was contemplating the benefits of simply remaining facedown on the dirt for a while when a cool hand wrapped around his wrist, carefully tugging him onto his back.

Roman blinked at the face above him, the blurry features slowly resolving themselves into the shape of the vampire who had freed him only nights before. The fear that shot through him didn’t make him any more lucid, and Roman bared his teeth in a snarl that was probably much less fearsome on a human face.

“Told you so,” Imaginary Virgil said, instead of doing anything helpful like tearing a vampire’s throat out. Roman missed Real Virgil.

The vampire was talking, a low, constant noise meant to soothe as he shifted an arm around Roman’s shoulders, lifting him to his feet. The blood rushed to his head, vision going black-- the next thing he knew, he was inside a small cabin, swaddled in blankets, the hearth crackling merrily feet away.

… What had he been worrying about? He couldn’t remember.

A chill shuddered through him. He was still so cold, even as sweat drenched the cloth around him, and he complained relentlessly.

His packmates tolerated his sickbed whining as graciously they always did, though for some reason they were more hesitant than normal to hold him close when he called for them. They seemed to be taking his care in shifts, as there was only ever one person in view, and sometimes he woke up completely alone.

(Strange, since they normally all piled up together when one of them got sick. They probably just needed to prioritize hunting or checking their territory boundaries or something. Roman wasn’t that sick.)

When they were there, Roman rambled and bickered with them nonstop, through shudders and chattering teeth, telling old stories and adding new twists to distract from the sickness ravaging him, only pausing when they pressed coriander seeds or wormwood to his lips.

(That was a little strange. Logan knew mint worked better for Roman’s nausea. Maybe they were out?)

Time passed in a haze, marked only by the frequent offers of fresh water and stale rations. Eventually, he was able to even measure out his healing progress by how often he could keep the aforementioned nutrients down.

(One of them was busy hunting, but somehow there was never any fresh kill.)

He knew his fever had finally, properly broken when he reached out for the one who had been taking care of him all this time, and registered that their skin was icy-cold.

Roman jerked back and then instantly regretted it as every nerve in his body protested severely.

“Ah, careful!” warned the vampire, who was at least smart enough to stay out of immediate biting range. His hands fluttered around as though he was attempting to bat away the dark spots that were currently dotting Roman’s vision.

Unbidden, a rough growl tore from him. He had a heartbeat to feel vindicated at the vamp’s flinch before his breath caught in his throat, kicking off an uncontrollable coughing fit.

Each wheeze brought less and less air, and when he caught the vampire shuffling closer, it suddenly felt like he had no air at all. He hunched over his knees, shifting his hands to cover his neck pathetically, as though the motion could protect him.

“Back off,” he snapped, cursing himself when the words came out as barely more than a choked whisper. How many times had he said some variation on the phrase in the past few weeks? He should have learned by now that it never worked.

When he glanced up, though, he found the vampire had practically teleported all the way across the room. The sight of the vamp peering at Roman worriedly from the furthest corner was odd enough to yank his mind out of the half-formed flashback.

He took a deep breath, trying to remember the grounding exercises Virgil always ran through. His wrists were light, his knees didn’t ache; he wasn’t chained down. There was soft fabric around him, and warmth in the air; it was a far cry from cold cement platforms in lifeless forts.

There was a vampire here, but his eyes weren’t red, and he didn’t wear a cruel smile like a second skin. Roman might still be a prisoner, but he wasn’t there anymore.

Instead, his current location was… a curiously cozy cabin?

Roman blinked. It was a single room, a bit sparse in decor but containing a small coal stove, stocked pantry, and a cheerily roaring fireplace. He was sitting on the solitary bed, a nest of blankets creased around him.

He turned his blank gaze back to the vampire. For a moment, the only noise in the room was the low crackle-pop of burning wood.

“Are you okay?” the vampire finally asked, brow creased with what looked like genuine concern. “You’ve been really burning up, and fevers like that can take a lot out of you. At least,” a pause, “as fire as I know.”

Any and all snappy responses (both literal and metaphorical) flew instantly from Roman’s mind. He groaned and slumped over dramatically, ignoring the way his vision swam slightly at the movement. “Augh, that was terrible!”

The vampire grinned, his smile somehow dorky even with the visible fangs. “You don’t have to tell me twice: I’m a fast burner!”

“Are you sure?” Roman asked. “Because this is the worst thing you’ve done to me yet, and I’m including the mind games, apparent abduction, and imprisonment.”

“Flameous last words,” the vamp said, and then the rest of Roman’s statement seemed to catch up with him. He drooped like a wilting flower. “You’re not imprisoned here! And I’m not trying to... mess with you, or anything.”

Roman gave him an unimpressed look. “Just so we’re on the same page, that’s a yes on you abducting me, correct?”

“I mean, yeah, just a little bit,” the vampire admitted, “but I meant it in a helpful way! I wasn’t going to bother you at first, I promise, but then you got sick, and I could tell how feverish you were just looking at you, and--,”

“Wait,” said Roman, his brain slowly churning through the implications of that sentence, “you were just going to follow me without me knowing, the entire way--,” home, he didn’t say, because the mere thought of accidentally leading a coven of vicious vampires to his vulnerable packmates made his stomach turn, and then he was leaning over and being violently ill in the bucket beside his bed.

A cold weight settled against the back of his neck, soothing against his overheated skin for the few seconds it took him to realize what-- or rather, who it was. He jerked away with a halfhearted snarl, probably looking rightly pathetic.

“I’m sorry,” the vampire said mournfully, stopping him short. “I wasn’t trying to upset you, I just-- I knew it was my fault. If I’d gotten the key sooner, or been braver, you wouldn’t have been out in the cold for so long, you might not have caught sick at all. It wouldn’t be right for me to abandon you.”

“Abandon me?” Roman spluttered. What did this guy think he was, some lost pup? “I can take care of myself just fine alone, thank you very much! I have absolutely no need for suspicious sanguinous stalkers on my tail.”

For emphasis, he shoved the blankets off of himself, swung his legs over the edge of the bed, and stood up in preparation to leave.

One blink later, he was facedown on the floor, his body numb yet his nose stinging from the impact. “Ow.”

The vampire offered him a hand up. “Autumn is my favorite season, but that certainly didn’t seem like a very nice fall.”

“Must you kick a man while he’s down?” Roman bemoaned, ignoring the proffered hand in favor of pushing himself up.

His traitorous legs wobbled under him, and he ended up collapsing back into a seated position on the bed, right where he’d started. He felt a wave of familiar despair wash over him. The sickness had sapped every ounce of strength from him; whatever villainous plans lay ahead, he had no chance of foiling them.

… Maybe he could still foil some of them.

Roman met the vampire’s gaze as solidly as he could. “No matter how adeptly you try to play the kindly stranger role, I’m not going to fall for it.” I’m not going to lead you to my family. “You may as well cut your losses and do whatever it is you’re planning to do to me.”

He waved a dismissive hand for emphasis, as if it didn’t matter to him. As if the mere idea of getting so close to freedom and then dying (alone, far from his pack, without them ever even knowing what happened to him) wasn’t enough to make him feel like there were roots tangling in his lungs and weeds clogging his throat.

The vampire nodded slowly, a troubled look on his face. “In that case…”

He moved closer, and Roman focused very intently on not flinching, no matter how badly he wanted to, or how hard his body was already shaking. The vampire reached out--

“My name is Patton,” he said, very carefully offering his hand at the midpoint between them, “and what I want is for you to stay right here in this house until you’re healed, and then you can go wherever you want to go, and I’ll make an oath not to follow.”

“What?” Roman blurted, staring at Patton’s hand with blatant confusion. “You-- I-- What?”

“I really don’t want to hurt you, kiddo.” Roman stiffened, because that was a classic villain line setup if he’d ever heard one, but-- “So, once you’re healed, whatever you need me to do to prove it, I’ll do it.”

Roman’s increasing headache had nothing to do with his fever and everything to do with the oxymoron that was a philanthropist bloodsucker.

What was the right option? He couldn’t get away, but he couldn’t trust that this bizarre hospitality would last, either. Perhaps the best course of action here was inaction-- lulling the vampire into a false sense of security by pretending to be sick even as he grew healthy enough to escape?

Roman could act. He was good at it, and the bar for his illness had been set quite convincingly with his earlier faceplant. He let his muscles go lax, slumping over slightly to give off the impression of conceding without actually ever agreeing to Patton’s proposed plan.

“If you’re so intent on me trusting you, you can start by telling me where I am,” he sniffed, graciously not mentioning the abduction thing again.

Patton brightened, letting his offered hand drop without comment. “This is an aidhouse! It’s part of a system recently set up in this division of the kingdom for common good and to prevent spread of disease.”

That explained the insulated, if somewhat bare, interior. Roman raised a curious eyebrow. “And they’ll let just anyone use it?”

“That’s the principle behind it, yep! Normally, with non-plague cases, an apothecary apprentice would stop by to check in and offer guidance, but I told them I had it apothecovered!”

The puns were apparently a permanent fixture in the guy’s repertoire. Logan would be in agony. Roman ignored the pang in his chest at the thought, leaning further back against the pillow mound. “Yes, you wouldn’t want some poor apprentice to stick around long enough to find out there’s a lone vampire in their midst, would you?”

Dial it back, he could imagine Virgil hissing, as though the emo had any room to talk about unnecessary vitriol.

“Well, no,” Patton admitted, his smile turning a little strained. “But I turned them away because I already have all the experience I need! I worked as a full-time doctor before-- um, before...”

The smile turned full-on tremulous, and Roman was seized by a strange panic at the sight of it. He sprawled over the bed haughtily, the way he always did when demanding attention from his workaholic packmates.

“If you’re such a skilled doctor, then I’m sure you won’t have any problems running me through your treatments so far?” Roman challenged, inspecting his nails. It wasn’t a pointless query, either; some common human treatments were toxic to werewolves.

“Oh!” Patton said, voice still a little choked up. “Of course, let me see…”

The brink-of-tears quality to his words faded as he began to recount everything Roman had missed in his feverish haze. Patton’s exposition was nothing like Logan’s, cheerful rambling and jokes thrown in where Logan preferred efficient lists and muttered tangents.

Roman found himself drifting off to the sound regardless.

It seemed that pretending to trust Patton wouldn’t be as hard as he’d thought.

[ooc-miqojak]

💍          »        what    is    your    character’s    favourite    gift    that    they’ve    received    ?

'Thought Provoking' RP meme

(( Mentions @kharrisdawndancer ! Alludes to a few others... ))

"You'd think, really, that with the separation of who I was, and who I've become, that old gifts would grow less sentimental, or meaningful with time... but it's proven quite the opposite. I suppose there remains a certain longing for... not necessarily who I was, not even the innocence - which was little more than youthful naivete. I think I miss what these represent: the friends I made, and the bonds I thought unbreakable."

The long, lean noblewoman paces her study - a sumptuous place, but cozier than the rest of the estate almost by virtue of how many shelves lack books in favor of a bevy of small, worn baubles - many, she'd assure you, were obtained simply through exploration and archaeological means. Like a bird collecting trinkets, there's a homey nature to the curios, though she stops before a frozen flower, to run a slender finger over the glass dome within which the crystalline petals glisten.

"A forever-frozen lily gifted to me by... a 'friend,' I guess, though that word feels too small for he and I. We were never quite lovers, though there was plenty of pining between us, but... in the end, the true heart of it that I never expressed was that he'd become involved with a pair of redheads whom he seemed to love, and prioritize, even then. But I don't hate him for it - far from it, or I wouldn't cherish the gift he gave me. Since my fall from grace, he's been one of the only people from my past who still accepts me. I have no doubt that it's because he, himself, is undead - and he knows what it's like to be forcibly changed against your will and face every single day with a gnawing hunger that could slip past you at any given moment; he knows what it is to be made into an instrument of horror for another creature entirely...but he also taught me to endure. And when things were at their worst, and I was alone, and at the whims of the demon who altered me... I had the words of a true friend to hold onto. That... that's worth more to me than any romance."

With this, there's a little pause, and the horned woman digs into a pocket, only to retrieve a silver, filigreed cigarette case - a little worse for wear, these days...dinged up, scratched...but whole. She flips the thing open, and plucks a black-papered cigarette out, perches it on her lips, and sighs at the inside of the case, before offering up the inscription on the inside of the front cover: "Once crew, always crew."

"I don't have much in the way of family - I had less, even, back then. The crew I fell into... I was too naive of a girl, back then, but they meant the world to me. But the person who gave me this... she gave it to me after I was changed. And though I have a complex relationship with these words, and how betrayed I feel by them - given that she wasn't the first to say them to me... I just wish I'd taken the time to bring her closer; to learn from her, look up to her. It's a good reminder to treat my ship's crew like family. It's a good reminder to... come back down to Azeroth, I guess. A good reminder not to forget who I am - the fel changed me, and continues to. But this is... it means more to me than she knows. I haven't spoken to her in a mighty long while, though... I suppose I feel too... dirty? Tainted? She's always accepted people as they are - and far worse people than I have received of her kindness. But... for all that I've shucked off most of the internalized stigma about who and what I am? I just feel too... ugly on the inside, to spend time with her now?"

The case snaps closed with an air of finality, and Lily takes a long, slow inhale around the unlit cigarette, "Kharris would probably tell me I'm being silly, though, for thinking that. But at a certain point, how do you re-establish that kind of line of communication without it just being weird? Maybe I should try anyways... at least then I could say I have tried."

(( I grew long-winded, and didn't even mention meaningful gift #3! A white bird of prey given to her by a former lover, that she named Eos! These three gifts are the ones she keeps close, and mean the most to her. There's technically a 4th, but it was a gift from an NPC I write for, so I don't count it here! xD ))

[caramelcal]

Songwriting and Fake Dating {2}

Word Count: 1.8k

a/n: hello guys! hope you’re having a good day/night so far, thanks for reading my work I really appreciate it. I appreciate every note, comment, repost, request that everyone sends in and I’m so glad that you guys enjoy my silly little pieces of writing lol...

However, I can’t take full credit for this so thank you so much to the kind people that sent me plot ideas, lots of lovee x 

 THIS WILL HAVE MORE PARTS!!! 

Also, how would you guys feel about me making a base Luke Patterson tag? Just an idea though! (sorry for the long a/n)

Tags:

@gia-kerks​ @phantompogues​ @thesweetestsinner​ @honeyheartzz​

disclaimer: i do not condone plagiarism on my work at all, this has not been posted on any other platforms, or on tumblr anywhere else but my account (rosemoonmist) if you see anyone plagiarizing mine (or anyone else’s account) please inform the rightful author ! thank you lovelies x

part 1   masterlist   next

The deal worked well. Luke kept his promise saying that he would keep everyone off your back, seeing you walk in with Luke Patterson kept guys pretty far away from you. It was like they knew that they shouldn’t mess with you, not only because you guys were together but because of how powerful you were both viewed as was insane. You guys were the school’s new power couple. That felt amazing.

Yet, as amazing as it felt it was still strange; the fact that the power couple wasn’t even really dating, and that you guys didn’t even like or talk to each other in the beginning.

Slowly but surely though, you got to know Luke. You knew there was always a little more to him than met the eye but after three weeks of you guys interacting with each other on a personal basis, you guys got extremely close. Too close for some people’s liking.

Of course, Luke wasn’t the only one that upheld his end of the bargain, you did too. Often, you found yourself thinking about new lyrics in school, jotting down scribbles in the corners of your textbooks and notes. Luke was right when he said you were an amazing songwriter. The rest of Luke’s band, Julie and the Phantoms, had been apprehensive when he got help from you to write songs, but after seeing something you wrote for them they were convinced of your talent and were very eager to have you write more songs for them.

Actually, most people were glad you were writing songs again. But no her, not Carrie. In fact, she was furious that you were writing songs for them, despite knowing of the deal. Instead of encouraging you and praising you for finally getting into writing songs properly and utilizing your talents, she argued with you for ‘helping the rival band’ and saying that you ‘didn’t care about Dirty Candy’. She knew that wasn’t true but the fact she still said it hurt you.

Yet, even though you and your best friend’s relationship was slightly fractured at the moment, you still arrived at her house for practice. New choreography had been introduced that you had to learn, and you heard from another Dirty Candy member, Kayla, that it was super confusing.

Naturally, you ended up at Carrie’s on Tuesday evening, ready for a night full of dancing, learning confusing choreography, and laughing with the other girls. You had been Carrie’s best friend long enough to know just to walk into her house without knocking, knowing that Trevor and Emily weren’t home, Luke would be up in his room, and Carrie too far away in the studio to hear you knock. 

Treading through the house, on your way to go the studio you have your bag slung over your shoulder, subconsciously humming a song. That was until you hear someone call from behind you, “Y/n?”

Turning around, you see Luke there and give him a smile and a wave. He walks up closer to you, jumping down the stairs and landing just in front of you, rocking back on his heels. A smile lights upon his face as he opens his mouth, starting to speak, “I was messing around with the melody a little for this song you wrote, if you quickly came to my room I could show you on my guitar.”

Luke points in the direction that he came from, taking a step backward as you look at him unsure. He holds a hand out to you with a small cheeky smile, almost as if he knows that you’re itching to hear it. You quickly glance back in the direction of the studio before giving in, “Fine, fine, but be quick. I have choreography practice for Dirty Candy I can’t miss.”

Luke gives you a beaming smile as you place your hand in his, which he grasps before pulling you along the hallway, not leaving you too long to dwell on the studio session.

One second you’re just entering Luke’s room, letting him play you the chords on his guitar and giving him a few pointers, seconds later you guys are working on tweaking lyrics and you hear the girl’s chatter from downstairs. Wide eyes meeting Luke’s you realize that the girls are leaving.

Eyes glance over to Luke’s alarm clock and you realize it hasn’t just been a few minutes, it’s been two hours. Two hours of vital practice for Dirty Candy that you blew off for Luke, again. Carrie was not going to be happy if she found out.

However, luck doesn’t seem to be on your or Luke’s side as you hear a knocking sound from Luke’s bedroom door, “Luke?”

It’s Carrie. Eyes darting towards each other, Luke indicates for you to hide, helping you crouch down out of sight. You’re behind Luke’s bed, too scared to even peek over the comforter to stare at Luke’s bedroom door as Luke tells Carrie to come in.

When Carrie comes in, Luke’s bedroom is tidier than normal, fewer clothes splayed on the floor, but bedsheets still ruffled and a wide array of objects splayed on his desk and shelves, along with his bed. When she speaks to Luke, she walks closer to the bed, voice quiet.

“y/n didn’t show up for practice again,” You cringed at that, knowing that you were guilty of getting caught up in writing songs with Luke. However, you had never got caught up writing songs in Carrie’s house, this was a new low for you, “I just wondered if you had heard from her.”

Guilt bubbles in your stomach when you realize that Carrie sounds worried for you. She should be, you hadn’t checked your phone for two hours and the last time you texted her you said that you were on your way over. She expected better from you than to blow her off for her brother, and you should have too.

“No,” Luke dismisses, clearing his throat awkwardly as he shares a tight-lipped smile with his sister, who stares at him strangely.

“Okay...Wait,” Carrie starts to sigh but stops talking, allowing you to hear her feet come further into the room, her eyes catch onto something, “Is that...y/n’s? IS Y/N HERE WITH YOU?”

At the sound of her louder voice, you cringe physically. You can hear the utter betrayal and anger in her voice when she thinks you’re here. You knew that if she found out she would be livid but this sounded worse than you imagined. Much worse. Before you put Luke in an awkward position and make him lie to his sister, you stood up, eyes squinting slightly as you stared at the livid version of your best friend.

Her fists clench at her sides and she puffs her chest out as she looks at you, eyes widening slightly. Nothing is said as Luke looks awkwardly between the two of you. You open your mouth, looking at Carrie before hesitantly speaking, “Carrie, listen-”

However, Carrie wasn’t up for your excuses, storming out of the room. Without even looking over at the boy who stayed on his bed, you rushed out after your best friend, “Carrie, please!”

Grabbing onto her shoulder, you manage to get Carrie to stop walking away from you but instead, she whirls around angrily, eyes widened even further as she rejects your touch. She points a finger towards you and takes a menacing step forward, causing you to step backward, “You know what y/n? I was annoyed when you started writing for our rival band but now you’re blowing off practice to help them?”

Unable to speak, you simply watch carry with your lips slightly apart. You had seen Carrie mad before, but you had never had it directed at you. Her arms retreat from pointing threateningly at you and instead, she crossed her arms over her chest, scoffing at you, “It’s clear to see where your priorities lie. That’s it, you’re done. You’re no longer welcome in Dirty Candy.”

“Carrie please-” You begin to speak, almost pleadingly but she puts a hand in front of her, her palm facing you, like a sign to stop you from talking. 

“I don’t even want to hear it,” She spits out, giving you a distasteful look, “get out of my house. You’re no longer welcome here.”

. . .

You walk with your head ducked when you’re in school the next day, books hugged to your chest. People don’t stare at you like they usually do, because neither Carrie nor Luke was by your side. Not only a sad reminder of what happened yesterday, but of the fact that you were nothing without your best friend. Everything with Luke was fake, Carrie was supposed to be your best friend.

How could you let her down like that?

How could you get caught up in a boy? Right from the beginning you and Carrie had a deal, that you would never let a boy get between the two of you, that you would never prioritize someone else over each other. You broke that, with her stepbrother of all people. You had two deals, one with Carrie and one with Luke, and you knew you had to pick between the two of them.

The only plan of action you could think to get back into Dirty Candy and back to being Carrie’s friend was that you apologized and begged to be in her band again, dropped Luke and hope that she took some sort of pity on your soul.

“Hey! Y/n!” You spun around, eyes looking up to catch onto the hazel eyes that jogged over to you, a book in his hand. He landed right in front of you, giving you a small smile as he indicated to the book in his hands, “You left this in my room yesterday...”

Your eyes glanced down to the notebook in his hand, the one that you were writing songs in, and a bitter taste fills your mouth. Yet another reminder of last night, and all of the mistakes you made. Shaking your head lightly, you took the notebook from the boy without a word.

“I know it’s probably best you don’t see Carrie right now, so how about you come over to Julie’s garage tonight?”

Looking up at him with saddened eyes, you shook your head as you muttered, “We can’t do this anymore.”

“What do you mean, y/n?” Luke asked breathily, eyebrows furrowing as he rocked on his heels. People bustled about the corridors but paid no mind to your conversation, too wrapped up in their own business but all of Luke’s attention was on you.

“This,” You repeated, using your hand to gesture between the two of you. You saw as his eyes fell to your hand, eyebrows raising slightly, “We can’t. Not anymore.”

He leaned closer to you, almost ensuring no one overheard you as he spoke lowly into your ear, “It’s part of the deal, y/n.”

“A deal we never should’ve made,” You started, holding your hand out to Luke’s chest so he couldn’t advance on you.

As you started up into Luke’s eyes, you frowned a little. Luke was a good person, and you guys bonded so well, not only over music, but tv shows, movies, common interests.. You guys just clicked. The past few weeks had been great, but you couldn’t put your best friend on the back burner just because of a few happy days.

“I got kicked out of Dirty Candy for our little deal,” You snapped bitterly, shaking your head wildly. Luke’s eyebrows shot up, mouth opening in shock as he stared down at you, “I lost my best friend. I’m sorry Luke but Carrie comes first. Over everything, especially our stupid little deal.”

With that, you walked away, leaving Luke in the distance. You didn’t even turn back to look at him...

[sophieinwonderland]

I'm going to be blunt. This reads like emotional manipulation.

"People need to be friends with me and accept me no matter how dangerous or harmful I might be because otherwise I might harm myself" is an all-too common manipulation tactic.

I don't mean to say that you're an abuser or that this is intentional. Only that I don't like the broader implications of what you're saying because I have seen a lot of abusers use this sort of tactic to keep loved ones, especially significant others, from leaving them.

And I could easily see someone vulnerable reading this and using it as a justification to stay with someone who is toxic or harmful to them because they prioritize that person's health above their own.

I want to be 100% clear that it is not morally wrong for people to reject someone because that person has dangerous beliefs which may harm them or others.

Everyone has a right to choose who they associate with.

I'm also sure that you wouldn't want to associate with homophobes or transphobes very much either.

Cults are a different matter because the rejection is organized. They have strict rules for rejecting people who turn against the faith that all adherents are forced to follow or be cast out themselves.

This isn't the same thing.

And it sure isn't at all comparable to solitary confinement which is not only a lack of social interaction, but a torture that deprives people of any sort of stimulation whatsoever. Posts like yours are minimizing the damage of solitary confinement for syscourse points.

This is simply society as a whole deciding that something is bad, and not wanting to associate with people doing the bad thing.

While you are right that wishing that on someone is not a crime, enacting that upon a civilian for their opinion would be.

Only if that thing is criminal. Rejecting someone for bad behavior IS NOT criminal.

Encouraging people to reject someone for bad behavior is not criminal.

There are also certain things that could technically be considered death threats which wouldn't be criminal if carried out and wouldn't create fear in a reasonable person. If you say "I'm going to drive my car around all day to increase global warming and wipe out the human race quicker," you probably aren't going to be charged with either the threat nor the action itself even if you could technically argue that you're taking intentional steps towards global genocide.

And the fact you made it clear that this is your agenda—to alienate fellow people from society— it’s not only irresponsible and cruel, it’s advocating a lack of equal rights.

No.

People not wanting to associate with you isn't depriving you of your rights.

Do I... need to respond to this one? It's so silly that it seems self-evident.

Maintaining your relationships, however you choose to do so, is your responsibility. If people view your beliefs as so abhorrent or bigoted that they leave you, that's not depriving you of rights.

That's them exercising their right to not associate with you.

(Though as a note, people not wanting to associate with you doesn't mean you're in the wrong either. People have all sorts of reasons for not wanting to associate with others, and sometimes it's those reasons themselves that are bigoted. The goal should be ensuring that it's the bigotry that's unacceptable in civilized society.)

Here's another important point though.

I've never actually told anyone to cut off anti-endos

At least, not that I can recall.

I fight for plural acceptance. And my "threats" are predictions of what the result of that will be in the long-term.

I'm not saying "don't associate with anti-endos." I just know that criticizing them and calling them out for bigoted and anti-science views is naturally going to result in people not wanting to associate with them.

If anyone thinks that this isn't the end result of plural acceptance, then I think they're naive.

Everyone striving for plural acceptance is doing their part to bring this world about whether they actually understand that or not.

If I've supposedly said something multiple times, I don't know why you think I'm hiding behind plausible deniability.

But to be clear, I have the political agenda of achieving plural acceptance and making intolerance of plurality, including endogenic plurality, socially unacceptable.

Having your harmful views accepted or tolerated isn't a human right. But choosing who you associate with, or don't associate with, IS. And in a plural-accepting world, expect people to exercise that right.

And yes, people with bigoted views are going to get hurt if they don't adapt and become less bigoted.

But people are getting hurt right now. Endogenic and mixed origin systems are regularly harassed and bullied for existing, and many have been kicked from disability servers for daring to be publicly endogenic or mixed origin.

People will be hurt no matter what. And if it's a choice between us or the people who spread hate and bigotry against us... Well, that's no choice at all for me.

I am 100% against sending hate and harassment towards anti-endos and causing direct harm that way.

But please make no mistake that the world I'm seeking to bring about is not one that will be at all pleasant or hospitable towards anti-endos who cling to bigotry.

Am I A Criminal 😱 ???????

(Spoiler: The answer is no.)

(Link to the post that started this drama for reference.)

First, minor point, but I don't think I backpedaled. I think, as plurality becomes accepted and more well-known by the general population, the world is going to become a miserable and unaccepting place for anti-endos to exist in. I think it's integral that it does, to limit the reach of anti-endos.

I do hope that what many anti-endos will take away from this shift against them is that they need to change. And I do think many will. A lot of anti-endos I see are giving into peer pressure, not really thinking for themselves. If pro-endos become the more vocal presence and their friends change stances, I think many of these people will change.

But not everyone will.

I didn't say in my post that I thought they would be isolated forever. But I also didn't say that they wouldn't be.

Hate is a choice, and how people respond to them is going to depend on their own choices. If they continue to choose hate against endogenic systems, this is what I believe awaits them until they change.

But to the main point, are these words criminal?

Could The Anon Be Charged With Threatened Harm For Their Comments?

Maybe.

I want to mention that I actually didn't think of it as a death threat at first. I saw the threat to bash my head in until I had an "actual split personality" as "only" a threat to physically assault and brutalize me until the trauma left me with a dissociative disorder. (You take you pick of which interpretation is worse.)

It was only on reflection when others mentioned it being a death threat that I realized the intended meaning may have simply been literally splitting my brain, being a poor play on words.

In either case, it was clearly a threat to cause me great bodily harm.

Having said that, looking at Cali's law on threats, there are a couple points that may be hard to stick.

I picked Cali because it's the first thing that popped up in the search, and laws like this do vary from state to state.

That fourth point is what I think may make this hard to pin down for prosecution. An anon potentially from the other side of the globe who has no idea what our real name saying they would murder or brutalize us "if they saw us IRL" probably can't be prosecuted under this law, as it doesn't invoke an immediate threat like it might if they had said "I'm going to come to your house and attack you."

Additionally, I can't say that this caused me a sustained fear, in large part due to the point I just mentioned.

(But also because, as I said then, the anon is a coward.)

Although, for that last point, I think such a threat COULD result in sustained fear if directed at someone else.

And the OP's hypothetical does say "if this were face-to-face."

In that case, I have zero doubt that threatening to harm or kill someone face-to-face in this manner would fulfill all the criteria since it could easily be acted on and would cause someone to fear for their safety.

Could I Be Charged With Threatened Harm For My Comments?

Short answer: No. Definitely not.

Long answer: A criminal threat has to be of a crime and causing bodily injury. "I'm going to call you mean names later" would not be a criminal threat, for example, even if you could argue that calling someone mean names would be a form of emotional damage.

And while this varies again from state to state, I would be surprised if any state outlawed threatening to cause purely emotional harm in a noncriminal way.

It would be a huge attack on freedom of speech to do so here in the United States, at least.

Furthermore, like with the previous issue, the threat also has to be specific to the victim and convey an immediate possibility of being executed.

My own words are several degrees removed from that.

An example of an immediate threat with the possibility of being carried out would be something like "I'm going to come to your home and kidnap you, then lock you in a box to keep you isolated."

That's scary and would put someone in immediate fear of being harmed. It's also threatening a clear criminal action. This one would probably constitute a criminal threat.

Moving further away from what could be protected under this law, you might have something like "I'm going to personally go around telling all your friends and family how bad you are so they'll leave you."

This one is in-between my post and an actual criminal threat. This is something that could invoke a fear of an immediate action. But it's no longer fulfilling the criteria of threatening something criminal nor is it really putting anyone in immediate fear for their safety under any reasonable definition.

That brings us to my post which essentially can be boiled down to "I'm going to push for broad social rejection of anti-endoism over a painstakingly slow process that will someday leave people like you ostracized by every group you care about."

Was I saying this in a way that was intentionally mean to someone who threatened me with injury and/or death? Sure. Did I think carefully about how to make my words cut the deepest before speaking because I really wanted the troll to have a worse day upon reading my response? Yeah. 🤷‍♀️

I'm not a saint and am not going to pretend otherwise. And I don't regret my actions in the slightest. I don't have a responsibility to play nice with people threatening to maim and/or kill me.

What I did not do was threaten bodily harm.

I did not threaten any future personal interaction whatsoever with this person nor any direct action against them or anyone they care about.

And while I know the US is especially known for its freedom of speech, I suspect that most Western countries probably wouldn't criminalize "threats" that aren't even threatening an actual criminal action.

Because the actual actions I "threatened" are... doing exactly what I've always done. Keep criticizing anti-endos. Making it clear that the science and psychiatrists oppose. Reminding people again and again of their cruelty and the toxicity of their community. Highlighting their attacks on religious beliefs of systems. And making it clear that we cannot tolerate intolerance of endogenic systems.

And also... posting scientific articles on endogenic systems, posting about plurality of fictional characters, sharing resources about endogenic systems, and encouraging endogenic and mixed origin systems to be proud of who they are. Because every act of encouraging acceptance and normalizing endogenic systems is also another small step towards this goal. The more tolerated endogenic systems are, the less tolerated anti-endos will be.

This is Beyond Ridiculous

Over the past week, people have claimed that my words are worse than suibaiting and death threats.

They've compared my predictions of and efforts to push for rejection of anti-endoism to personal abuse tactics and violence.

(I'm not sure if they think I was "abusing" the person who threatened to maim and/or kill me by responding how I did, or if they think successfully bringing about a society where anti-endos wouldn't be accepted is the abuse. Both takes are equally laughable.)

Now it's apparently a literal crime!

At the rate this is evolving, I'm expecting the next post to claim I'm encouraging a genocide of anti-endos. 🙄

People are entitled to not like what I said. Fine.

But trying to paint it as a Violent criminal abuse tactics worse than death threats or suibait is absurd.

There are comically huge leaps being made to blow my comments to that anon way out of proportion beyond what any rational individual would.

And in the process, these bad takes misrepresent the law while also minimizing death threats, threats of violence, abuse tactics, and literal acts of violence.