#i would argue that’s one of the worst things about chronic illness

[spriteofmushrooms]

Hi! I've read your jc's post and I find interesting how you framed jc and jyl's relationship. we don't have one single scene only about them (novel canon), because it's from wwx's pov mostly. So there's a lot of room for interpretations. For example, imo their relationship is almost quite balanced; jyl is much more a mother figure for wwx than she is for jc, because jc has a living mother, a mother he fiercely loves. jyl doesn't need to stress much about jc, because he doesn't give problems. At his worst, jc is a bitch. wwx, at his worst, is a BIG problem. Also the moment when jc says that jyl is the one who has to forgive jzx, not them, it's an important moment Imo, because it gives me the impression that he perceives her as a person and he respects her wishes. I would love to hear your interpretation about them and their relationship!

I agree with you, anon. Also, I've been thinking of this every day since you sent it. Thanks for the obsession.

Jiang Yanli is the only authority figure in Jiang Cheng's life who gently corrects him and encourages him to be better without damning him for having flaws. When Jiang Cheng kicks out Wei Ying, she is the one he knows will help him. She does so, and she encourages him to apologize and put Wei Ying's bed back in his room--which Jiang Cheng, it turns out, has already done. Whenever Jiang Yanli corrects him, he accepts her better judgement and never argues or feels unloved or compared to anyone. Jiang Yanli is, I think, a truly kind person, without whom the household would not survive.

Wei Wuxian tells Jiang Cheng to comfort Mianmian in the cave; and he says that Jin Ling looks like his mother only when he's crying, at which point Jiang Cheng defends and comforts him. I think Jiang Cheng was the one who comforted Yanli, while Wei Wuxian likely tried to distract her. Jiang Cheng can accept his people's negative emotions; Wei Wuxian almost seems to blame himself for them.

Jiang Yanli is the only person that we know Jiang Cheng is comfortable showing his softest side to. Therefore, she must be completely safe. If she teases him, it's gently and without malice; but I don't think she teases him. He privately suggests that Wei Wuxian give Jin Ling his courtesy name; Jiang Yanli shares this because she knows Wei Wuxian would feel loved by this gesture.

When YunmengJiang is in desperate need of allies, respectability, and funds, Jiang Cheng gently rebuffs Jin Guangshan's offer of a rekindled betrothal. He respects Jiang Yanli enough to make her own decision, and he values her more than political gain. She, in turn, trusts him to mean what he says; and I think she knows that Jiang Cheng would have supported her all her life in Lotus Pier if she could not find a love match.

In short, I think they were tied together very closely.

My personal headcanons include that she teaches him how to do non-cultivation things when he's overwhelmed, like cooking and needlework. Before he was old enough to understand why Yanli doesn't cultivate (which I accept CQL's suggestion that she's chronically ill), he tried to help her improve by giving her baby lessons on meditation. I think that Jiang Cheng is a deep well into which secrets can be shared without fear, and I think he was safe for her to express her more filial negative opinions. I think she was the safest person to tell any positive, delicate feelings to.

Baby Jiang Cheng followed her around like a duckling. After she married, he must have visited dozens of times. Through her, Jiang Cheng and Jin Zixuan were able to understand each other better; as you may have seen in my recent chengning ficlet, I think that happy year ended with Jiang Cheng privately calling him Zixuan-ge.

All she wanted to be truly content was for her a-Xian to come home. Jin Zixuan and Jiang Cheng tried to make it happen for her. Because who wouldn't want to make her happy?

[batsplat]

hello i saw in your tags that you don't think people on here get casey stoner and as someone relatively new into the sport i would love to hear your thoughts <3

(context here) okay first of all, this post will be framed as ‘things I wish people talked about more with regards to casey stoner’, rather than arguing against what I think people think

I've tried to come up with a concise response to this ask but kept heading into thesis-length territory. so I decided to write a bullet point list and it’s still… yeah… but well it could be worse. if you, dear anon, wish to read thousands of words of casey stoner lore then please let me know. otherwise, here are just a few things I find interesting about this bloke:

casey has a very complex relationship with the concept of confidence, both in other riders and himself, in the sense that he KNOWS how important it is but also believes/wishes that he specifically is kinda above all that

this feeds into how he wishes that racing were Just Racing and not all this other stuff… not his brain not his body not other racers being assholes on/off track not talking to journalists or doing photoshoots not having to deal with politics etc etc - central underlying tension of his career

he has openly spoken about not ever really enjoying race day, saying the only thing he's missed after retiring is qualifying. very perfectionist, the anxiety, the over-thinking, craving control… all key casey traits

(which also ties in with the valentino rivalry, because valentino obviously adores racing (in particular wheel-to-wheel battle) but he’s also great at all that other off-track stuff)

some very rigid ideas of How The Sport Should Look, which you can see in everything from how he talks about racing standards to the introduction of CRT riders (he had it OUT for them, head hot every time aleix espargaro shows up in parc fermé) to valentino’s influence on ducati and the importance of the colour red

let him have his mean streak! the grim satisfaction in discussing jorge’s 2008 injuries after his early-season arrogance towards casey, the dismissiveness towards dani, some of the wilder valentino remarks (this isn’t a criticism to be clear, alien-on-alien violence is part of the natural order of things)

casey is a classic case of ‘just because you’re paranoid, doesn’t mean they aren’t after you’. definitely a suspicious guy and perpetual underdog 'me against the world' mindset. not to get too psychoanalytic-y, but I reckon this was partly born out of how he had to leave australia as a teenager (with his family completely dependent on him succeeding) because of how the racing establishment down under fucked him over

they definitely were out to get him a lot of the time, cf yamaha and then ducati drama plus the slander from some of the greats of the sport, fellow riders, the media etc etc (particularly egregious in 2009 when he was dealing with his mystery illness and a lot of people said some pretty unpleasant stuff in his absence - here is just one example)

his struggles were constantly downplayed. the chronic fatigue misdiagnosed as lactose intolerance led to people calling him weak-minded, broken, running away from the sport (part of why he was so allergic to the idea his results might in any way be connected to what was going on in his head). add in the undiagnosed anxiety and you have all this invisible strife people wouldn't even take seriously

that being said, he definitely did have a propensity for jumping to the worst possible conclusions

two specific examples: firstly from his autobiography, where he makes the claim that valentino may have been sabotaged in the 2006 title decider and was deliberately given a rubbish tyre to make him lose the championship - to which casey’s response was: “welcome to my world, mate”. he does have a tendency to believe he’s being sabotaged, and is constantly on the look out for conspiracies even when they are… unlikely

the other example is mat oxley talking about his issues with casey in his stint working for ducati, partly based on a misunderstanding:

something allegedly written about him in 2001!

let’s just say he can definitely hold a grudge

the moaner stoner stuff was definitely nasty, calling him mopey and whiny and all of that, but he also has never shied away from some good old-fashioned complaining (some of this was a bit of a spiral - complaining for good reason worsening public perception of him leading to more reasons to complain)

see also the lingering marc grudge, who probably did play a significant part in getting casey kicked out of honda (as casey has accused him of). whether marquez prevented stoner from racing in 2015 is more of an open question. casey still speaks about how honda made a mistake by only listening to marc (which, again, does have some truth to it)

casey was always very quick to shut down the idea that momentum, motivation, confidence etc could affect his results (unlike that of his competitors) because he argues he was always very rational & clear-sighted about when things were his fault & when things could be blamed on the bike + extraneous factors. he really goes into detail about this when discussing 2008 laguna seca in his autobiography, which he argues had no effect on him psychologically (but was followed by him crashing out of the lead of the next two races)

has definitely spoken more about his rivalry with valentino than valentino has, which probably has also helped shape perception of it over time

on ‘ambition outweighed talent’ - I feel like people almost understate just what a (hilariously) out of pocket remark it was in context. it was rossi’s second ever race at ducati (and the start of his season was impacted by his shoulder issues) - and the rain meant he had a ~win it or bin it~ approach because he knew it was as good a chance as he might get for some time (despite starting from 12th). the move on stoner for second place was at best optimistic, most definitely impatient and at worst foolish - but sort of understandable in that situation, rossi was definitely rapid, and this stuff can happen in the wet. in that sense, it was obviously more a reaction to the manner of the apology (and his frustration with the stewards) than to what casey himself described as a racing incident

stoner made a remark in his autobiography about how rossi had stolen 25 points in a title battle he was never going to be a part of (oof). whether you're obligated to race title contenders differently is already a bit sketch but certainly should not be a consideration for anybody in round TWO

he was forced to publicly retract the remarks, though he doubled down on them to a deeply funny extent in his autobiography by suggesting they were true of valentino’s entire career and that he’d just benefited from a weak era. rossi mostly took it on the chin especially when interviewed about it for documentaries, probably because with something like that you do just need to take the L

it's understandable how it’s become such a defining image of their rivalry (along with laguna seca), not least because of how evocative the whole thing is - rossi showing up still wearing his helmet, trying to make a PR apology stick while he’s been eating nauseating amounts of humble pie at ducati; stoner casual as you like, pissed off about the points loss while still indulging in schadenfreude about how the Great Big Ducati Adventure is working out for rossi

but again, I think it’s funnier because of just HOW over the top an insult it was in that situation (and more broadly how it does have a different vibe to their interactions when they were meaningfully competing, aka 2007-2008)

in conclusion: casey has his doubts and his insecurities and his obsessions and his foibles… a complicated guy in his own right

and a big thing I’d like to stress here is that the rivalry with valentino does benefit from treating them both as somewhat unreliable narrators

I just think he's neat

[theonlyendersgamefan]

I hate that it takes 4 books for the bean saga to go from “guys it’s he’s just like ender I promise. Remember ender? You liked him right? He’s just like ender” to genuinely good well written political thriller.

Orson Scott card developed this chronic illness sometime in the early 1990s which rendered him unable to write more than one compelling story line in a book at a time. There were experimental treatments done while he was writting shadow of the giant but they had to stop due to funding issues. His books weren’t selling very well.

Best example of this is actually outside of the bean saga entirely. Children of the mind, universally considered to be the worst of the original quartet and I would argue that it’s one of his weakest books of all time. Children of the mind actually has several compelling premises. 4 to be exact. Way to many for any to be well developed enough as to be compelling. You have Jane trying to find a new body, and peter and wang-wu planet hoping to influence government, and ender trying to get back with novinha, and everyone else trying to find thé descoladorians.

Only the intergalactic odyssey feels like it was given any real care. The other story lines feel thrown together like they exist purely to finish up the series and put a bow on top and say “here publishing house I did the thing” which ofcourse, is the case. In the post script of the children of the mind audiobook there is an extra from orson Scott card, he says that xenocide and children of the mind were originally going to be one book but it ended up being too long. He offered his publishers to make it into two books and the publishing house seeing an opportunity to sell twice Samantha books, readily agreed. Now this is immediately visible in the actual book. For one children of the mind does not have a large time skip like the other two sequels do. The story takes place immediately after the end of the xenocide. For another thing, after a certain point about half way through the book you notice and realize that this is the end of the series, even if you haven’t already known, and your think to yourself “why is this still going on”. And the answer is because Scott card hasint bothered making this one story. He thought “what haven’t I wrapped up” and tossed it all together.

I liked all the “moments” in children of the mind. I don’t think there are any chapters you can point to and say “this was poorly written”. I cried at some parts there was no lack of passion and emotion in the moments problem is there’s no narrative for the moments to hang on to and so unlike Enders game and speaker for the dead and yes to some extent xenocide the moments don’t blend together to form a story but rather the story has to hold the moments up to cover all of its holes.

What was a talking about? Oh right SHADOW OF THE GIANT IS SO PEAK. The bean saga had the same issues children of the mind had. Yes, bean growing up and his experience with battle school is an interesting idea but so much of the book left me thinking “so what?” Too much of it exists purely to retroactively justify beans position in Enders game. Then the next two books consist of the characters just doing incredible things without any explanation. Peter keeps talking about “his contacts” and graffs resources are seemingly endless unless of course it deals with anything plot related in which case “minister of colonization” is an empty title.

I would much rather read the bean saga from Achilles or alai or hot soups perspective. Why? Because orson Scott car abuses the fact that they are not POV characters to totally disregard any semblance of plausibility. Sure s story of a bunch of child geniuses ruling the world won’t be realistic but Jesus he just pulls whatever to get Achilles out of trouble until suddenly he’s stupid enough to trust one guy, who has known been ten times longer than he has know Achilles, to actually be loyal. Achilles de flandre, the most paranoid boy on planet earth, shot dead because he invited bean to come in with a gun. I would pay good money for a book on Achilles but it would have the same issues as Enders shadow there’d be to much shifting as Orson Scott card tries to fit Achilles where he is supposed to be in Enders shadow. But still it would be worth it just to hear his internal monologue, we really only get 4-5 moments where Achilles is interacting with Petra and I need to know what he was thinking every time. Why did he bring her to the India Pakistan meeting? Why open the plane door? Ajirodndej

This problem goes away entirely in shadow of the giant even a bit before. In shadow puppets we actually get important internal monologue from a character which is not bean or Petra. It’s hot soup, navigating Chinese bureaucracy. It’s boring and clever and I love it. It’s the kind of stuff you saw in Enders game small but totally reasonable conclusion based on real relevant information that existed before this very moment. In the actual book shadow of the giant, we see that alai hadn’t actually maneuvered his way into ruling the entire Islamic world, he was being used as a figure head, presumably by one of the high rankers who had formed the original caliphate. We are shown that the Islamic countries had a loose alliance and that alai, when brought back from Russia, was a mediator between these countries, eventually his prestige as one of Enders gishe and also having proved his unbiasedness, was pronounced caliph. This back tracks on the vague insinuation that alai had done what Peter did but just in a couple of years. We also get to see the bridge goddess thing with virlomi play out and the people that hot soup rule over as emperor act differently than the people that virlomi rules over as goddess of India and they act differently than the people alai rules over as caliph. The fact that we get to seem more of other people help’s this book out so much. We get a wider view of the world and so it doesn’t feel out of nowhere when they world Changes. It feels like an intelligent move made by competent people and not characters who exist purely to get the last page as quickly as possible. It’s genuinely like a different person wrote this book. Or like orson Scott card sent the bean saga back in time 2 decades and let his 40yo self write it.

[sindulgence666]

The brothers with an MC that has Dysautonomia (POTS)

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Hi! So… this is kind of a self indulgent post? I just wanted to think about the brothers taking care of MC when they have no spoons or just are having a crisis 🤧 I never have anyone to help when I'm on my worst health days so yeah!

Warnings: mentions of chronic illness, cursing

Characters: Seven demon brothers

Category: Shortfic, bulleted… whatever that thing’s name is

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Humans are complex yet fragile creatures. Their body works in complicated and fascinating ways, almost being too perfect. Yet, illnesses exist. Humanity has always lived with diseases, from things like the common flu to terrible plagues that threatened to wipe out half of a continent. Modern medicine has worked hard to mantain the population's health, treating and curing any disease that installs itself in the host’s body.

That is, unless it’s a chronic illness.

Oh, humans. Such intelligent yet incapable creatures.

When you arrived to Devildom, you didn't even think about how life would be there while dealing with your “problem”, as how you used to refer to it. However, as time passed by it became increasingly obvious to you that the weather and the lack of your medication were making it really difficult for you to continue living and ignoring your symptoms.

The first months were hell (heh) for you, as you weren't as close to the brothers nor the other exchange students to ask for help or to talk to them about your health. As time passed by and your relationships started getting stronger, you started pondering about the possibility of telling them. Would that affect the way they treated you? You weren’t sure you actually would want that.

One day, you had to be practically dragged out of bed by an angry Lucifer; you were running late. A pounding migraine made itself present and made you groan in pain, but surely you could handle it. Lazily, you dressed yourself with the uniform and walked slowly to the dining room; your head felt funny and you could feel your heart pounding in your chest. It definitely was a bad day.

— Hurry up or you won't be able to eat before going to RAD, MC. —Lucifer spoke and you just nodded while you sat down.

Your stomach growled and your nose wrinkled in disgust. You definitely felt like you were going to throw up. Actually, was it cold or was it just you? Lord, you were even trembling.

— I’m sorry… —You tried to excuse yourself— I think I'm not feeling too good…

But you stood up too quickly and your legs gave up on you as your vision went dark for a few seconds just to come back unfocused and blurry.

Lucifer immediately stood up and ran up to you, crouching by your side. He gently cradled you in his arms and was surprised by your corporal temperature. It wasn't normal for a human to be so cold, right? Surely blue lips weren't a good sign either. This situation was something he didn't know how to manage, and that really stressed him.

— MC? —he called out to you as he softly slapped your cheek just to check if you really were conscious. You groaned as your eyes darted all around the room. You could feel a strong body holding you and six distinct voices yelling and panicking.

— Lucifer! What’s wrong with them!?

— Hey, human!!!! Doncha dare die on me!!!!

— MC, please hang in there!!

Even Satan, the smartest one, and Belphie, the one who knew the most about humans, were amiss. What was going on with their human? Were you going to die?

— Legs… —You said, covering your eyes with a trembling hand.— Help me raise my legs…

— What?

— They're telling you to raise your legs! what are you, deaf!?

And finally, after you recovered of your sudden crisis, you were taken to your room so you could rest. At least after arguing with seven worried demons that insisted on rushing you to a human hospital. You knew that wasn't strictly necessary, but certainly having a blood pressure monitor would come in very handy.

Laying down on the matress, an exhausted sigh left your lips; your head was starting to hurt. Lucifer had to make sure his brothers didn't bother you (mainly Mammon and Asmodeus, who nearly had a heart attack when they saw you suddenly collapsing), but Satan wasn't going to just leave you alone after that. The door quietly creaked as it opened and the blond man stepped inside the room.

— How are you feeling? —He gently closed the door behing him and walked up to your bed, sitting on it.

— I’m fine —You answered.— Just a bit tired… —You extended your arms towards him, asking for a hug.

He nodded and scooped closer to you, laying down beside your tired form and softly passing an arm over your shoulders. You closed your eyes and rested your head against him.

— Care to explain what was that about?

— Hmm…

— MC?

— I didn't want to worry you… —neither did you want them to feel sorry for you.— I know I should've told you sooner, but I thought I could manage by myself like before-…

— This has happened before? —The demon inspected you with his gaze

— Yeah, I have dysautonomia

…

— What?

Right. Human chronic illnesses surely aren't known in the Devildom; why would they need to know them anyway? You sigh and stay quiet for a few seconds before trying to explain to the blond demon your health condition.

— You mean one of the main things that keeps you alive is not working!? —Satan was practically yelling now.

— Okay, Satan, let's calm down, I’m not dying-…

— Well it sounds like you are!

And before you can stop him, he's already sprinting out of your room to tell his brothers.

Lucifer

WHAT!?

MC is DYING!?

You have to take him away from his now stunned brothers in order to clearly explain to him that you are, in fact, not dying

It sounds like your body just gave up on keeping you alive, and you know it

But you're okay!

You only need medicine to help your heart regulate itself!

And probably having a blood pressure monitor in the HoL would be nice too

Overall, he is quick to catch on after the initial panic passes

He will now make sure you have all your needs covered

Still freaks out whenever you have a bad day or faint, but overall is very reliable and helpful

Mammon

Definitely wants to cry

When you come back after Satan he's the first one to throw himself at you

You can't die again!

You really need to try and calm him down before successfully explaining to him that you were going to be okay

He is very upset about you having to deal with something like that for your entire life

Believe it or not, now he sticks to you even more

Panics whenever you start feeling funny and tries to help

It’s the thought that counts

Leviathan

Henry!!! You can't die!!!!

He is one that definitely DOES cry along Asmodeus

Sitting down with them in the living room to explain is the best option

He isn't sure if your explanation made him feel better or more nervous

But you’re not going to die! That's good!!

He will actually offer to buy anything you need from Akuzon

He prefers to help you by buying anything you need rather than tending to you

Don't get him wrong, he loves you

But it will be two unconscious individuals if he gets too overwhelmed

Satan

Sit down, Sherlock

It’s actually quite hard to convince him you're gonna be okay

Although calmer, he’ll now proceed to investigate everything he can about it and how it affects you

He definitely will basically become an expert in a very short time

Another one that is very reliable and helpful

Less busy than Lucifer, so he can actually make sure to take care of you until you are back to a 100%

Asmodeus

NO!!

His dear MC can’t be sick! They look so healthy!!!

He, like Levi, is crying

Someone give him tissues please

Baths, massages and everything that can remotely help you feel better will never not be an option with him around

If you thought he pampered too much before, buckle up

He too panicks if you faint, but he doesn't freeze in place

Beelzebub

Actually VERY worried

His frown gives it away despite his naturally stoic face

Sits beside Belphie and in front of you while you're explaining them everything

He shakes his head after hearing you, not quite being okay with you being sick

It also takes a lot of reassurance with him to help him be at ease

He will be the first to catch you if you fall! Or to carry you if you need so

You can count on him too

He just wants to protect you

Belphegor

At first thought you just fell asleep (no Belphie, MC isn't you)

Huh? Fainted?

MC's sick!?

He's angry before being sad

Calms down almost at the same time that Beel does

Probably won't be helpful since he’s always asleep

But he definitely will help when sleeping is difficult for you

Probably will carry an extra pillow around to cushion your fall

Please don't expect him to actually catch you if you collapse

[xx-slug-xx]

there’s something odd about the way Tony Goldmark, one of Kyle’s biggest dickriders, talks about the victims

If someone genuinely didn’t know what Kyle did, they would apologize to the victims (in general). Tony goldmark’s “apology” felt corporate and not once did he extend his sympathies with the victims involved. Instead he said “I won’t invite him to MY podcasts anymore!”

tony Goldmark still believes the racist groomer Jane amber, who has admitted that she flirted with a 17 year old and exchanged nudes with them. Tony argued that makes Jane “bad” too but goes on to defend her and say that this is a boy cried wolf situation at worst

Now we have Jane saying she knew about Kyle grooming people a year before his arrest. Tony made no statement on that, he just kept talking about himself

so to sum up: Tony Goldmark is a selfish man who happily covers for predators who abuse and groom people and he doesn’t care about anyone else. He didn’t reach out to thre victims, didn’t listen, he went private, made an angry rant about how someone with a chronic illness and DID is “not a victim” and laments that he’s made a scapegoat in this situation. Because at least “they’re not dead yet”, right?

Tony Goldmark is someone who rubs me the wrong way for so many different reasons. The fact that he’s so self centered that he’d rather talk about how HE’S hurt by Kyle and not the victims who were the ones Kyle hurt the most tells me more than anything else. Tony would rather safe face and play victim than own up to anything he, Kyle, or Jane has done/said.

I don’t want to be that person, as there is no proof to back up my claims other than suspicion, but I have the sneaking suspicion that both Tony and Jane are in a very similar boat as Kyle. Based on their behaviors, it makes me feel like they are projection. Especially regarding the things Jane has said and done, considering she has admitted to sexually harassing people for her own personal gain to make the other look bad (I believe it was Ang she did this to, but I could be mistaken). On top of the fact she HAS flirted with and send and received nudes from a minor. Makes me very suspicious to say the least. Tony completely muting his social media is not cool imo. I understand it if he’s receiving death threats and harassment, but the things he’s saying now that he’s locked down is down right disgusting and repulsive. He privated to protect himself from the people who know he’s guilty and are calling him out on his faulty logic and his behavior. He doesn’t care about the victims, just the fact that his pal Kyle was outed for what he really was

[vazaha-tya]

blood supremacy in harry potter is at a crossroads between xenophobia/racism (not as we understand it), ableism and classism but with jkr having no in depth of understanding of these issues, it really ends up in a sort of twilight zones where power dynamics are incomprehensible. and considering power dynamics have everything to do with discrimination, it's really frustrating

(i'd mention speciesism for the way centaurs, house elves etc are treated but that's a common problem in fantasy. besides, the parallels between centaurs and secluded indigenous communities + house elves and chattel slavery are so fucked up i think analysing it is just gonna make me mad. she should have never touched that with a ten foot pole)

wizard-raised magicals are both the minority according to the subtext (witch burnings, smaller population, inability to blend in, need for their locations to remain hidden) with muggles being their dominant counterpart and the majority because they essentially hold the power to fight back on a higher level than muggles do. hence the xenophobia/racism parallel, which is incomprehensible because of the way the lines between oppressor and oppressed are blurred. she also tried to make it a parallel to antisemitism but talking about that is not my place i think. from what i said before i'd imagine the problem with that is kind of obvious, i mean, the subtext alone, yikes.

the pureblood-muggleborn relationship looks more like a classism thing, especially with the subtext of purebloods being wealthy and having status (+the whole blue blood idea is kinda obvious) and this idea of muggleborns being sort of upstarts encroaching on this "higher society" and introducing their commoner ways. more straight-forward than the former but even there lines are weirded out by the way muggle things really do seem to replace stuff that could be read as parts of wizard culture. muggle holidays are fic writers' favourite example of that and for good reason. how does celebrating halloween make sense? and christmas? the yule ball kind of indicates some awareness of pagan holidays and everyone swears by merlin, i doubt wizards are christian. it mostly stems from jkr thinking of worldbuilding as aesthetic rather than foundation but it really implies weird stuff about how all of those muggle things came to be introduced

the ableism discussion is the only one that has clear and delimited power dynamics but it's pretty obvious it's not done on purpose. here, squibs and muggles are clearly considered less than wizards. i'll admitmy first thought about it was like "duh? i'd rather have magic than not" then i kinda slapped myself because that is not the issue there. of course it's better to be able to do something than not. i wish i didn't have worms for brains and a high chance to inherit my mom's chronic illness. the problem is that not being abled doesn't make you less and yet, that's pretty much never argued in HP. just look at the way filch is treated. at best he is pitied, at worst mocked and scorned. it's really nasty

anyways, listing everything that's wrong in the books would take hours but i have a google docs titled "unhinged ramblings on the nature of blood supremacy in harry potter" so i thought i'd at least share the sparksnotes before deleting it

[asperulaao3]

[Ramble] On the Implications of Descriptions in Literature

Some thoughts on the ways in which scenes and events are depicted, from an amateur writer.

---

Fiery tendrils of agony run up his arm, burning him from the fingertip to the innermost parts of his body. He wants to cry, he wants to scream, but this isn’t the type of sudden pain that warrants such a dramatic reaction. His agony has been a part of him for as long as he can remember, a lifelong companion that wishes upon him only the worst. It hurts like hellfire, yet at the same time, the longevity of the pain has numbed it, as though the fire has burned him into ice.

No matter how purple my prose is written, the fact is that this is a passage describing chronic joint and muscle pain. That’s all.

Life is astonishingly disappointing. We write and we draw and we animate, but at the end of the day, the imagery that we create often becomes much more vivid than the actual event itself.

Of course, perhaps it’s simply a matter of perception. Everything becomes less interesting the second time you do it, and most things lose their appeal completely when you do them everyday. Perhaps the regularity with which we experience everyday life has made us lose interest in it, which is why when we see it presented in a different form, such as through literature, it seems like a completely new and interesting event.

Still, I hold firm on the stance that this kind of vivid imagery only serves to romanticize everyday events in a way that makes them unrealistic. However, I am certainly not opposed to this kind of romanticization, if my own writing pieces show anything.

Vivid imagery, when done well, can make any situation seem incredibly poetic, even if the experience itself is extremely mundane. If you saw a person waiting at the train station, it would seem fairly normal. You wouldn’t see it as anything poetic, because there’s nothing particularly special about a person waiting at a train station. However, through art and literature, one can turn this scene into a poetic illustration.

This scene seems extremely mundane, and outside of literature, it probably would be. However, one could turn the person, or the train station, into symbols for countless ideals, or use overly dramatic descriptions to turn the scene into something else.

Thus, it can be concluded that vivid imagery in literature only serves to over romanticize an event, not accurately describe it.

This kind of overly romantic depiction can be seen in all forms of storytelling, from written works to illustrated works and even films. One could argue that this is problematic, as it results in hyperrealism - when the story based on the real event becomes even more real than the event itself, and thus people begin to base their expectations for life on the story, rather than reality itself. However, I don’t believe that the existence of hyperrealism is a problem.

Things lose their appeal when they are done repeatedly. This applies to many, many things. Living life, too, begins to become a hassle when you are forced to do it every single day.

But look at that. Instead of saying “life gets boring,” the above phrasing makes even boredom and depression seem so much more poetic. Perhaps that becomes romanticization of mental illness, but is romanticization such a bad thing? If whether or not we enjoy life is based solely on perception, then isn’t this kind of romanticization the ultimate method for achieving a positive view on life?

Don’t get me wrong; I have long since fallen in love with this thing we call escapism. If given the option, I wouldn’t ever leave my room. I’d lock myself in my own world, surrounded by nothing but myself and the dim glow of my computer screen, experiencing reality through the vast expanse of the digital world and my own thoughts. But romanticization in literature isn’t such a bad thing, is it? It allows us to at least think of our everyday activities as poetic, so that the monotony of the everyday doesn’t drive us all insane.

Literature teachers are constantly preaching the need to dig through the depths of the work, as though the author’s mind is an infinite space of creativity and higher level thinking. As an amateur writer myself, I’ve always disagreed with this method of teaching. At the end of the day, writers (and creators of all types) are humans, just like the rest of us. They eat and sleep and breathe, just like you and me. Teachers tend to place these people on pedestals, creating this great divide between the creators and consumers of the pieces. At the end of the day, however, I think that all creators, as with the rest of us, are just trying to keep themselves sane in this world of chaos.

I recently watched an anime called Blue Period, which walks us through the journey of a high schooler finding meaning to life through art. In one scene, colours explode out of the canvas as the protagonist paints, almost like a scene from an action anime rather than slice of life. These kinds of depictions are obviously unrealistic, but I suppose that this is a valid method to visualize emotions and sensations that can’t be depicted simply using pixels on a computer screen.

The protagonist himself is no one special, but the way in which he describes his insecurities and negative traits is incredibly poetic, which makes these “bad” things seem artistic rather than “bad.” It’s things like these that demonstrate the appeal of the arts - storytelling makes everyday events and mundane characters seem almost fantastical, which makes the burden of everyday life just a little more bearable.

My writing style throughout this piece, and throughout many of my other pieces, may seem overly sophisticated or condescending, but that, too, is just a matter of trying to make my existentialism seem a little more poetic lest I go insane. Truthfully, about halfway through this piece, I forgot what I was trying to write. I’d thought of an idea that seemed very coherent after watching Blue Period, but it’s since slipped my mind. Hence, the second half of this ramble is all just nonsense that I made up on the spot. I think that it shows, in some cases, where I went on a tangent. Alas, I ought to write ideas down before I start getting all prose-y.

Still, I think that the sudden change in style in the last two paragraphs reflects my views on literature, and even the rest of the world. Things may seem beautiful and artistic on paper, but at the end of the day, real life tends to be incredibly mundane and disappointing.

I was going to make a poetic and artistic ending, but I’ve lost that train of thought, too.

(Oh, also, I did a little sketch that was meant to be the thumbnail for this post, but Pubray didn’t let me format it the way I wanted, so here it is)

[forabetterlifethanthis]

Perfect People

Sorry I’ve been away. I have just been so very busy getting rat-faced pissed on a bar crawl and booking a holiday to Marbella. Just in case the irony was lost on any of you, I definitely wasn’t. I was, alas, once again succumb to a day immobilised by pain, and the vestiges of the prior day’s positivity had very rapidly atrophied. Whether I have the mental strength or desire to face pain very much seems to be an arbitrary decision by my brain, and one in which I have little input into. Well, yesterday I did not have the desire or the energy or the motivation to battle my demons, no matter how many inspirational quotes I read. I took the easy option, and spent the day in bed and covered in valium. I wasn’t even feeling particularly bad, just completely insatiable and no desire to live my best life. I was living pretty close to my worst life, and very happily I was. My body probably portrayed a wilting, withering, woebegone figure but in my head I wasn’t bad at all. I was in lots of pain and I didn’t want to face the pain that day. Isn’t that fair enough?

 And yes, I know drugging oneself to a state of desultory dullness is not the depiction of a desirable life. But it’s what I sometimes need to do just to get over that line to the next day. I still find myself feeling prosaic and lacking any real motivation or creativity. I did drag myself out of bed just to get this to my millions of fans out there.

 I find it hard when I read about all the social events and such that I would have used to have been a part of. I find this hard because poor little me cannot partake in such jovial jollity. It’s sunny outside, and the sun isn’t my friend right now and I am very much hidden in my hermitage. I really miss such simple things. People say to focus on what you can do and to be grateful for it. Maybe I’m just a bit useless, but I am always thinking about all the things I can no longer do. Why? Because I miss them and I fear that I won’t ever be able to do them again. I also feel it unfair that everyone else is (from my skewed simplistic internalised view) able to be happy. I want to be happy. I really want to and I really try hard to. Some days I do manage it. Just not many. The worst part is that everyone hates a mopey shit who doesn’t know true misfortune is, bringing down the positive vibes. That is very me, bringing down the positive vibes since 2013.

 In addition to just not feeling like writing yesterday, I also questioned why the flying flamingo I was writing a blog that either harms people, makes them worry or sad, or more likely, that no one would give a shit about.  Indeed, the idea of writing often brings a nauseating sense of lackadaisicalness. Although once I start, I do feel as if I am slowly sifting slovenly sludge out of my head.  The brain works in wonderful and stupid ways.  But for some reason, the transposition of my thoughts, however negative and pernicious they may be, into honest words, makes me feel lighter and more sanguine.

 Do I care that my readers are in the tens if not the ones?  One of the many positives of chronic illness and pain is that it puts things into perspective.  I’ve lost the need for validation from others and I can take the zero likes with pride and nonchalance.  What I have noticed is that people my age really tend not to care that much about others.  I know, not a generalisation at all.  It’s all about the me me me.  And I include myself in this. Even the demonstrations of magnanimity are in themselves acts of enhancing the image of the self.  There is a lot of people doing wonderful things just to be told how wonderful they are. Am I being overly cynical?  That is for you to decide. I do find it quite funny though how certain well-known people in society can be revered for saying things that nobody can argue as being wrong, but are so very easy to say.  For example, like “we need to pay the nurses more”.  If only I could say something that requires no effort on my half and receive praise lavished upon me.

 The change in my life that I hoped looking for solutions to my deteriorating health would erupt into hasn’t quite happened.  Life is still hard, the pain is still bad, the flashing is becoming more and more frenetic and lurid, and my future feels very precarious. There is my honesty, and there is your lot.

[agirlwithachakram]

Morbius is infuriating to me. it has so much good shit going on!!! and its overall execution is so weak.

good shit:

someone with chronic illness (or someone who loves someone with chronic illness, or someone who follows someone on tumblr with chronic illness) had a good amount of input on this script. there’s enough popular media out there that just Does Not Get It and this movie basically does get it. the sheer level of frustration of having a stupid rare illness that is hard to treat. being in so much pain all the time you’re just ignoring it when you have to do something. these guys should be using wheelchairs but because of the nature of their illness they’re afraid that means they’re giving up. (that one isn’t explicit but it seems like a fair read. you could argue that it’s the opposite, and the writers don’t realize wheelchairs can be used even if you’re not paralyzed. either way.) having good days and bad days. the fantasy of Being Okay. the fantasy of vampirism as a cure because nothing else works. trying to process feeling good when you haven’t felt good in so long.

and building on that...So, Morbius finds his “cure” except it’s not a cure, it’s a treatment. He’s active, he can walk and run and he’s not in pain and he feels good...as long as he takes his drugs: blood. And he’s quickly developing a tolerance to the artificial blue blood he invented. at first he could take it every six hours. Then four. and soon it won’t work at all and he’ll have to move on to real blood, which will treat his symptoms but has much worse side effects. because, baby, you don’t get to be fixed. you don’t get to be normal. you don’t get to walk through the world healthy without the leash of your “meds”. they can improve your quality of life but you can’t just stop taking them. that is how chronic illness works. the cure is not a permanent cure. the procedure requires treatments of its own. like i said, someone here knows stuff.

ugh, jared. not a great actor. not a great person. still really pretty.

the echolocation animations are surprisingly cool? and his little bat ear sonar gill things are funny and I like them.

vampire faces aren’t terrible. I don’t love them but I don’t hate them. They don’t annoy me as much as the buffy faces. red eyes sexy.

morbius accidentally inventing artificial blood while trying to cure his illness and turning down a nobel prize because it was the “byproduct of a failed experiment” is a great concept. I wish it said more about his personality but I am not sure anyone spent very much time developing that.

When Morbius is working on his bat cure for his illness, Dr. Martine says “I don’t want to see you get hurt.” Now, the direction/acting here isn’t great, but the line is so laughable to anyone who gets it, you don’t necessarily need to beat the audience over the head with how Michael would receive that line vs how Martine (healthy) meant it. The worst thing that can happen is it doesn’t work and he dies soon. if he does nothing, he dies soon anyway! His whole life is hurt and disappointment and HE is his own doctor! his expectations could not be more managed.

Milo (Matt Smith) has the same blood disease and loves Michael the most. He’s a more murderous Catra. he’s fixated on Michael and wants to run away with him, be his murder husband. the first few people he kills on purpose are a dude who insulted Michael’s pretty face and cops who are trying to arrest them both. When Michael and Martine kiss (way too many Ms in this town) Milo is watching them with the most jealous, furious expression

Milo is so evil and so sympathetic. if this had come out during the 11th Doctor years, tumblr would’ve been unusable. there would be 18000 Milorbius fics on the archive instead of 18.

Milo. Weirdly not that devious. has convinced himself he deserves to hurt others because the world has hurt him, but for a guy you’d expect to be a major manipulator, he’s pretty straightforward. I can enjoy that.

the difference between the powers Michael spends time honing (echolocation, making friends, flying) and Milo spends time on (chomping, whacking) and how that plays out in the big showdown

when Michael attacks a counterfeiter to commandeer his lair and some of his tools, the man asks, “Who are you?!” and Michael says, “I’m Venom.” that made me laugh.

captain terror is here and I love him.

Things that suck

way too much is premised on vampire bats being weird aggressive monsters. vampire bats do spread disease, but they’re not piranhas. they’re DEFINITELY not the fairy tale kind of piranha that swarms a critter, leaving only bones behind in ten seconds. (piranhas don’t actually do that, they’re mostly scavengers.) vampire bats are very chill and usually only feed from sleeping or docile critters. they lap up some blood and leave. they do not slaughter animals or people. we open in the depths of costa rican jungle, where morbius is determined to capture vampire bats using his own blood as bait. he slices his hand open with a machete to summon them. this man has a painful incurable blood disease. he puts artificial blood in his body multiple times a day, as i understand it.* if the artificial blood works as bait, why not just use a bag of it? why take a helicopter to the middle of nowhere? do you know vampire bats can be found in coastal mexico? they have a huge range. they’re not totally uncommon.

*i could be wrong about this. the treatment is described as “an oil change three times a day” so it could be transfusions or it could just be dialysis. unclear.

Jared Leto. He isn’t a good enough actor to handle this script. the script is weak, but if he could go all in on being torn between his affection for Milo and his code of ethics as a physician, if he could be genuinely tortured by what he did to the mercs when he first transformed instead of the feds saying “we don’t really care” so Michael doesn’t either? that would be INTERESTING. now he’s not only pitted against the feds because they think he’s murdering people around town, but because he thinks they’re wrong to want to let him off the hook for killing mercs in international waters, a thing he absolutely did not mean to do and should feel more guilty about. a few more lines, a stronger actor, and bam, you’ve got some intense internal conflict ripe for the picking.

Dr Martine isn’t developed enough and her romance with Michael isn’t good. it’s not bad, but it’s generic and we don’t really get why they’re suddenly doing this now when they’ve been working together for years.

Matt Smith is giving it his all. Jared might be giving it his all but his all is not enough. the result is a villain who is intensely obsessed and a hero who doesn’t care in spite of the few lines that indicate he does care. the homoerotic setup should have better payoff. they don’t have to be gay but give us some longing on both sides here. when Michael says he doesn’t want to fight Milo, that should be a flashpoint moment that makes Milo beg him to join, and Michael...want to give in. just for a moment. instead Michael is just weak and that line barely makes sense, because it takes so little for him to change his mind.

why make Martine the damsel in distress? there’s a teen that Michael is treating for some terrible illness. Milo could have kidnapped her and USED THE LAST VIAL OF SERUM ON HER to prove something to Michael!!!! why are there obvious story setups without payoffs? I’m okay with some things being in a story for character flavor but this was an opportunity and they didn’t take it.

If I were a vampire bat and Morbius kidnapped me and put me in a wind tunnel without anywhere to sleep or hang from i would NOT be his friend! no matter what he smelled or sounded like! if he wants to be friends with the bats he should give them a reason to like him! they’re getting tired Michael! They are nonstop flying! they’re gonna die of exhaustion!

i don’t think bats murmurate but I’m willing to be wrong. apparently they do. huh.

the semi-montage scenes with Michael talks into his recorder as boringly as possible should be replaced with full on musical montages. that would kick the energy up a lot.

fight shots are a mess. someone could fix that. not sure who. but someone.

vampire bat dna splicing...gave me pecs?

Michael and Milo have this thing about how they’re “the original Spartans, the few against the many”, like, they’ve had this horrific illness, they’ve been fighting this battle against it and against able bodied assholes since they were children. okay. um. I hate to burst your bubble, but Spartans were awful and they would’ve left you to the wolves as children. sorry. they sucked.

the blood disease is confusing. I guess it doesn’t matter in a movie where vampire bat dna makes a man a vampire, but he says he wants to integrate their ability to make anticoagulants. so...why does he need blood dialysis...or blood replacement? three times a day? is warfarin not on the table? is he trying to give himself hemophilia?

morbs is prepared to kill himself once he stops milo and even plans to, for everyone else’s safety, but that is dropped and never spoken of again?

I appreciate that the movie is only 95 minutes. seriously good work. but overall the script is weak and doesn’t play enough on the things that work (milo and michael’s complicated relationship, michael’s work as an actual physician to other people!, being a disabled doctor, being the token disabled doctor while the field doesn’t want to change to make it possible for more people like you to be in it even though you CREATED A WORLD CHANGING MEDICAL MIRACLE BECAUSE YOU UNDERSTAND DISABILITY AND DISEASE MORE INTIMATELY, michael’s guilt over what he’s actually done instead of what he is) and spends too much time on the things that don’t (relationship between Martine, who is underdeveloped, and Michael, the feds being generic good guy cops, the bats, Michael’s boring as hell monologues into his science recorder)

and the dialogue is largely not great, but jared makes it so much less interesting than it could be.

[kinktae]

flesh and blood || (M)

You are living in a society that is just now picking up the scraps that the Great Outbreak left behind after the government killed off the majority of the zombies. Still, some remain, and fear still lies within society’s walls. So imagine your surprise when the very thing you’ve been taught to fear ends up saving your life, showing you that maybe two beating hearts aren't always required when it comes to love.

pairing: zombie!jungkook x reader

word count: 6k

genre: post-apocalyptic, sci-fi, smut

warnings: guns, a semi spooky scene, crack plot written seriously, zombie jk falling for Y/N, part 2 will have smut

A/N: inspired by warm bodies and the fact that I'm a legitimate crackhead. Happy Halloween!

01 | 02 | 03

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PART ONE 

❝ Breaking News! A group of Walkers has been discovered hiding in the ruins of a Pre-Break Out industrial zone. A conference was held in City Hall where a representative of the DEAD Team said this in regards to the situation…❞

"Ugh, turn it down Junny," You grumbled, tugging your blanket over your head in hopes to null out the sound of the overly enthusiastic broadcaster on the television, "I'm trying to nap here."

"No way! Dad, did you hear? They found a family of zombies in our town!" Your younger brother enthused, wide eyes glued to the glass screen of the TV. He was sat beside your feet on the couch you laid on and you fought the urge to kick him off the furniture.

Your mother and father walked into the room shortly after, Junny's yells summoning their attention.

Rolling over, you sat up to see your dad standing behind the couch, arms crossed over his chest as he offered the screen his undivided attention.

Though the worst times of the Great Outbreak were now thought to be over – there hadn't been a reported zombie attack in years – the fear still lingered. You were just an infant when the zombie infestation was at its worst so perhaps that fear never had the chance to sink its filthy claws into you but you weren’t naive to the way the rest of the world still trembled.

Your father’s expression was solemn and impenetrable; if it weren’t for the way his eyes always gave away what he was truly feeling, you wouldn’t have a clue that he was upset. Glimmering behind his pupils were flashes of anger and consternation, along with memories of a story you had yet to hear.

Two decades ago, your father, along with many other young men and women, had volunteered to team up with the government to help contain the outbreak, hunting down and capturing zombies so they could be whisked off to a facility where they were killed in quarantine.

While the cause of the breakout seemed to be agreed upon, there was still much about the walking dead that remained a mystery to the general public.

Decades before the Great Outbreak, an experimental drug by the name of Immortuos had been growing in popularity. It was said to do anything from alleviating chronic pain to ridding the body of illness altogether. Ten years after its introduction, Immortuos had been administered to millions around the world. As time went on, however, the drug began to show signs of short term effectiveness; within a couple of years, symptoms of the illnesses it was meant to cure began to show up in individuals once again.

Immortuos was quickly discontinued and sent back into research, leaving scientists scratching their heads as they tried to figure out where they went wrong.

And so life went on; people, old and young, continued to live and die as they did before. However, years after the drug's discontinuation, a story broke out of a mortuary that came to life in the middle of the night in a rural town in Spain. And that was how the outbreak began, millions of corpses everywhere suddenly resurrecting. Published reports of zombie autopsies found that consciousness and motor functioning had returned despite the fact that the circulatory system had never revived, leaving the bodies without blood or oxygen. Not fully dead but not fully alive either. A sort of undead. And sure enough, a direct link to the use of the drug and resurrection was discovered.

Your father rarely spoke of that time; not that you ever had bothered to ask about it. It was unsettling to think he was ever one of the people hunting down zombies.

"Does this mean I don't have to go to school tomorrow?" Junny grinned boyishly, looking up at your mother.

"Nice try, Junseo. You're going." Your mother dismissed without a blink of an eye. You chuckled at the way your little brother scowled at her words.

On the screen was a recording of what you assumed must have been the conference held in City Hall. There was a man dressed in the DEAD Team uniform speaking into a microphone from behind a podium. You focused on the screen ahead, tuning out the chattering of your family as you listened to his words.

❝ Citizens of this town can rest assured that the Walkers in question were apprehended and sent off to our termination facility. We can't stress enough how crucial it is that you continue to send in reports of possible zombie sightings. Even if it's a false alarm, the risk isn't worth taking. Remember to not engage with the undead as they will attack unprovoked. These creatures don't care who you are or what you do, to them you are nothing more than their next meal.❞

A frown found your face at the officer's words. There hadn't been a zombie attack in years. It was hard to believe that zombies were truly insatiable, will stop at nothing, blood-lusting monsters.

"I thought we got rid of them all." Junny sighed.

"Most of them." Your father explained dully. "There are a few still lingering around."

"I still don't understand why we have to wait for the DEAD Team to take them out. If I run into one on my way to the market, I want to be able to protect myself right then and there." Your mother huffed suddenly, turning away from the TV.

She had always been a formidable woman– strong and independent. You had a feeling that if she hadn’t been tied down by a newborn child, she would've been there fighting alongside your father during the Great Outbreak.

Your father let out a sigh, "We don't want whatever is inside them possibly infecting normal civilians. That's why they have to be put down in quarantine."

“Whatever. I’m just glad we're almost completely rid of those bastards.” Your mother sighed, ruffling the hair on top of your brother's head.

Your eyebrows furrowed, unable to hide your distaste for any longer.

"And we say they are the monsters..." You muttered quietly.

Immediately, all eyes were on you.

"Excuse me? What was that?" Your mother cautioned.

You held her stare unabashedly, clearly having no intention to take back your words. Junseo's eyes flickered among the two of you, knowing the nature of the conversation that was soon to come. As much as you complained about how stubborn your mother was, he knew that you had inherited the very trait you resented.

"How can sit there and wish death on all those innocent people?"

"Y/N, this again?" Your mother let out an exasperated noise.

Your eyes grew wide with defiance, "Yes, this again. It doesn’t matter if they were once dead, they are still people! We have massacred millions and I don't understand how you all don’t so much as bat an eye at the thought of it."

At your words, your mother let out a bitter laugh, head shaking in disbelief.

"And what about the people those crimson heads have killed? What about the chaos and lives sacrificed to protect us from them?" Your mother retorted.

You scoffed, eyes rolling in unwavering disobedience.

“Did we even try to help them? To understand them?”

"You didn't live through the outbreak like your father and I did. You were just a baby. There are things you don't know, Y/N." She pressed angrily, doing nothing to sway your stance.

"What if it was me?" You challenged coldly. "What if I had died and came back to life? Would your first instinct be to put a bullet through my head? Those people had families!"

"Cut the bullshit, Y/N. They're not people, they’re rotting corpses that can walk and it’s about damn time you realized that.”

It was at this point that your father had decided to step in, placing a hand on your shoulder as he stopped you from arguing further.

"That's enough. The both of you. Arguing is a waste of time. We should be grateful for one another. We're a family and we're all together. Not everyone who survived the outbreak can say the same." His tone was matter-of-fact but not cold in the way your mother's had been.

Looking up at him, his cautious eyes met your ardent ones. They were laced in a plea for you to stop... to understand.

Pressing your lips together, you nodded begrudgingly. Your dad was right. Arguing with your mother was a waste of time. It wasn't as if anything you said would get through to her anyway.

Pushing the blanket off your body, you swung your legs back over to the floor, hand reaching out for your bag that was sitting against the coffee table.

"Where are you going?" Your father asked, eyeing you as you got up and hauled the bag over your shoulder.

"Home. Joon is probably waiting up for me." You told him disinterestedly, causing your mother to sigh.

Namjoon was your best friend and roommate, and while he was definitely still up, you highly doubted it was for your sake. If you knew your best friend, he was sprawled on the couch, his work spread out across the coffee table as one of those old, black and white shows about people living on a prairie played in the background. Your mother didn't need to know that, of course.

"Y/N, don't be ridiculous. It's already dark out, just spend the night." She pleaded.

"Night, Junny." You ignored her, turning towards your brother with a smile.

"Night!"

As you pushed past your parents and made your way out of the room, you could hear as they began to whisper to each other. You fought the urge to roll your eyes. 

You always hated it when they did that. As if you weren’t adult enough to join in on conversations that were obviously about you. It was if this whole world was constantly shouting a million and one rules at you – don’t do that, don’t question this, don’t go here – but the second you asked for an explanation as to why you should listen, all the yelling fell to a whisper, as if to let you know that words were being said but that you were purposely excluded from that knowledge.

That thought weighed heavily on your mind as you reached the deadbolted front door. The sound of you prying it’s five locks open hid the approaching footsteps of your father walking up behind you.

"Y/N."

The pop of the final lock accompanied your silent sigh, turning to face your awaiting parent.

"Yeah?"

"Your mother and I want you to take the bus home tonight. We know you usually take that shortcut by the factory plant because it's quicker but that area isn't safe. Especially not now with the recent sighting."

"Sure." You lied, simply because you knew it was what he would want to hear.

"And tie your hair up before you go out. It gives you a–"

"–maximum visual field, yeah I know. Teachers have been drilling that into us since elementary school, dad." You countered easily.

Your father nodded back at you.

"And Y/N," he continued, "she's harsh but... your mother is right when she says there is a lot of things you don't know."

You bit down on the inside of your cheek, unsure of what to reply. Suddenly, your father's hand found your cheek, cupping your face affectionately as he silently thought something over.

"There's something I want to give you before you go. Wait right here."

Your eyebrows arched in surprise as he left you suddenly, returning shortly with a small, folded blanket in his hands.

"If anything ��� anyone – threatens you, you protect yourself. Okay?" He spoke solemnly, starting to unwrap the bundle of fabric.

"Yeah, of course." You nodded, mildly confused.

Your face fell as the dull silver of a revolver revealed itself as the object hidden in between the blanket. You always knew your father kept a decent amount of self-defense weapons in the house, a consequence of his involvement during the Great Outbreak, but this was the first time he had ever shown you one. The only other time you had come into contact with one was an accident, stumbling upon a gun mounted under your father's desk during a juvenile game of hide-and-seek. Perhaps in another life, you would have been disturbed by the discovery, but all children of the apocalypse such as yourself were taught about guns and weapon safety by the time they had learned to count so you weren't particularly fazed.

“Just in case.” Your father pulled you from your memories, his lips pressed tight.

You eyed the deadly weapon for a moment, your stomach churning at the idea of ever having to fire such a device. Hesitantly, you grabbed it, hand wobbling slightly at the newfound weight. Wordlessly, you unzipped your backpack and hid the gun away, tucking the three bullets that laid beside it into your front pocket.

You forced the sides of your mouth to tilt up disingenuously, offering him a somber word of gratitude before slipping out of the house with a faint goodbye.

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Kicking at a piece of rubber, you watched as it skipped ahead, tumbling down the cracked cement of the road you traveled on. Your hair swayed behind you as you walked; you had thrown it up, not solely because of your father’s warning but simply because it felt strange not to. Like putting sneakers on without socks. In this world, stepping outside meant being vigilant and on high alert.

Naturally, you had disregarded your parents’ wish for you to take the bus home. Something that had emerged along the chaos and fear that probably wasn't initially considered was the sudden need for safe transportation. Transport industries quickly used this to their advantage, the costs of public and private transportation skyrocketing tenfold as a result. While most deemed it a necessary evil, you refused to pay for a twenty-dollar bus ride that would only take you ten minutes on foot.

And it wasn’t as if the area you were passing through was particularly unsafe. It was an industrial zone, empty and abandoned for as long as you could remember. During the peak of the apocalypse, factories and warehouses like the ones you were currently passing got raided for supplies. It wasn’t nearly as awful as it was made out to be, productivity had ceased anyway. Workers were too busy preparing themselves and their families against the army of undead to worry about showing up to work on time.

Crash!

Your stride came to a halt, one of your bag straps falling off your shoulder as you quickly whirled around to face where the loud sound had come from.

Brows furrowed, you peered through the holes in the wire fence that separated you and the property. You managed to make out a silhouette by the corner of a busted down door.

“Hello?” You called out warily.

The shadow quickly darted from view.

“Hey! You’re not supposed to be there.”

Letting your gaze return back to the fence, you found a sizeable hole not too far off from where you stood. More telling than the hole, however, were the two torn up candy wrappers lying underneath it. All at once, you realized what exactly you were dealing with.

Runaway teens were an increasing problem in your city; many of them seemingly fed up with the strict rules and regulations that arose as a consequence of the Great Outbreak. As much as you sympathized with them, a dirty abandoned factory was no place for a child.

You slipped past the fence, mind made up to get whoever was inside out and back to safety. Trudging your way through the rubble and waste, you headed towards the building’s entrance, noting the trail of candy wrappers that lead to it.

Peering inside the building, you were met with a slow-moving cloud of dust that had yet to settle down– it appeared as if a part of the ceiling had collapsed which explained the loud noise you heard earlier.

“You can come out, okay? You’re not in any trouble, I promise.”

It was dark inside, the only light source coming from the street lamps that lined the road you once stood on, their cold luminescence pushing through the broken shards of the factory’s windows.

You pushed further into the ill-lit building. There were all sorts of machines and garbage inside; the tile floor was layered with dirt, clearly accumulated through the years of trespassers coming in and out.

Spotting another silver candy wrapper, you headed down a hallway, pushing past a heavy steel door.

You let yourself take a moment to take in the room ahead of you. It must have been the more corporate side of the company, you deducted, as rows of filing cabinets lined the room, papers and ransacked charts spread across the floor. There was an eeriness to the building, you quickly realized. It was somewhat unsettling feeling to see something that once must have been the pinnacle of structure and organization in such an utter state of chaos. The room was quiet enough that if you just focused hard enough, you could imagine what it once looked like, all clean and pristine as employees walked through and went about their day.

You pushed down your uneasiness, eyes straining to guide you through the windowless room.

A rustle of fabric caught your attention and you quickly rounded about a large shelf in order to reach the child.

“Are you hurt? I heard those ceiling tiles fall–”

You let your words fall flat.

A tall silhouette stood against the wall, nothing like the stature of a small adolescent like you had been anticipating. The hair on your body rose as the sound of ragged, strained breaths fell from the dark figure ahead of you.

It took a step forward, body swaying unnaturally.

Every hair on your body stood on end, jaw falling slack as reality dawned on you.

You could hear the voice of your elementary school teacher in your head suddenly, remembering the lecture she had given you and your rowdy class on what to do in case of a zombie attack. How little attention you had paid back then, giggling over something Namjoon had whispered in your ear. Yet as you stood there in front of the exact thing you had been taught to fear, you could recall every single word, playing over in your head like a mantra stuck on loop.

Don’t make any sudden noises.

It was as if every nerve ending in your body grew cold, your feet felt impossibly heavy as fear paralyzed you, watching with wide eyes as the dark figure crept closer and closer.

Look for the nearest exit.

A panicked exhale fell from you as it's dull eyes locked onto yours. The shadow covered creature let out a noise of its own: deep, guttural and utterly inhuman.

And run.

You nearly lost your footing as you launched yourself into a sprint, not even thinking to head back the way you came in, mind blinded with white-hot panic. The cracked walls of the building echoed your frenzied steps, like a cruel game of hide-and-seek where no matter where you hid, you would be found.

Shoving past a stack of empty cardboard boxes, you found yourself in an unfamiliar storage room. Scanning the room hurriedly, your eyes fell onto a door on the other side and you quickly made your way over to it.

"Dammit!" You seethed, yanking at the handle as you realized the door you had reached was locked.

Jaw clenched, you turned back around to exit the room when your father’s words unexpectedly crossed your mind.

"If anything – anyone – threatens you, you protect yourself. Okay?"

And so you reached over a shoulder for your bag, eyes flicking between it and the room ahead of you as you picked yourself back up into a jog.

Tugging the zipper aside, you cursed at the jumbled sight of your bag’s contents. You had placed the gun on top but it must have sunk to the bottom during your travels.

You stuck your hand in further, looking to feel the cool metal brush against your fingertips.

Then, everything went dark, a low ringing finding your ears as you stumbled back, completely thrown off balance. You let out a yelp of pain and clutched your head, vision blurry and doubled.

You hissed, disoriented and confused as you had run headfirst into a large filing cabinet, too occupied with finding the gun to pay attention to where you were running. You struggled to keep yourself on solid ground, too ailed to notice the way that very cabinet had lost its footing and now teetered dangerously, seconds from crashing down onto you.

Suddenly, something seized both your arms, yanking you back as the heavy hunk of metal came crashing onto the ground.

You winced at the sound, before realizing that you had been grabbed by someone. One panicked glance over your shoulder confirmed your fears and a scream ripped through you, thrashing in the zombie's grip. To your surprise, you were released immediately, falling to your knees momentarily as you scrambled forward and away from your captor. Your escape was halted by a wall, however, forced to stop and press your back to it, eyes wide as you kept them locked on the zombie boy across from you.

His skin was a pale-ish blue, unlike any color you had seen before, his hair coarse and unkempt, nearly shielding his eyes from view. But still, you saw them: peering through his dark strands and guarded by the bruises that stained the skin around them as if he hadn't slept in ages. Shallow breaths fell through his pale lips, tinted purple from the lack of blood running through him.

“You just... You just saved me.” You marveled.

The zombie stood in front of you wordlessly, shoulders slumped forwards as his head tilted.

You knew there was a high chance he had no clue what you were saying, but frankly, you were too stunned to care. Here you were, somewhere in an abandoned factory in the middle of the night accompanied by the very thing you were raised to fear... and he had pulled you away from a falling metal cabinet.

You held his eyes. They were glossy and unmoving– lifeless almost. You shook your head; your heart had settled back into its chest, your breathing finally evening out. What coursed through you was no longer dread but an insatiable need to understand.

What did he want?

Why would he save you?

How did he get here?

The zombie let out a grunt suddenly as if it was meant as a goodbye before he turned around, beginning to leave.

“Wait!” You called out after him, putting your existential crisis on pause.

To your surprise, he turned back around immediately, facing you with unmistakable attentiveness. Did he... understand you?

“You… Today on the news... That was your family, wasn’t it?" You guessed, purely on a whim.

The zombie said nothing but you thought you saw a wave of something akin to melancholy wash over his face. No words were exchanged but your gut told you that you were right nonetheless.

“They'll be looking for you. You’ll be caught if you stay here.” You continued, swallowing down your nerves. You still weren't sure if the zombie boy could even understand you after all.

Placing a hand against the paint chipped wall, you helped yourself back up, inhaling sharply as your head throbbed. You took a cautious step toward him, hands trembling but stance steadfast.

Extending your palm forward, you offered your hand towards him, newfound determination coursing through you as the zombie boy's eyes followed the gesture curiously.

“You saved my life." You acknowledged with a nod. "Now let me save yours.”

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"Shh! Quietly, come in." You whispered, gesturing for the hoodied zombie to follow you into your apartment.

This zombie, as you had come to find out, was particularly agreeable. While he didn't seem to actually understand your language per se, he did seem to respond particularly well to gestures and body language, which was how you had somehow managed to wrangle him into your apartment, his dirty red hoodie thrown over his head to cover his face in case you ran into another human.

The undead man's eyes grew wide, taking in the inside space of your apartment with wonder. You could only imagine it must have been an upgrade from the gloomy factory he had been hiding out in. Reaching the kitchen, you froze at the sound of the TV on and playing from your living room.

Shit. Namjoon.

"Y/N, is that you?" Your roommate called out from the couch, hearing the shuffle of your steps.

You cursed internally. On your way home, you hadn't given much thought to exactly how you were going to hide your new zombie friend from your living one. You weren't thinking much at all honestly, too concerned with getting home unseen to worry about anything else.

Turning towards the zombie boy, you extended your hand in front of you in a gesture that ordered him to stay put. He stared at it, eyebrows moving towards one another.

"Stay." You directed quietly, before turning the other way.

"Yeah." You called out, placing your bag on your kitchen counter before heading towards the living room.

"Thought you were spending the night at your family's place?" Namjoon pondered, turning over to look at you as you entered the space.

"Changed my mind." You shrugged, trying your hardest to appear nonchalant, despite the way your heart clamored against your chest. "Didn't think you'd be up this late."

Your bespeckled best friend let out a sigh, dropping whatever file he was studying back onto the coffee table.

"Yeah, I guess I lost track of the time." He mused, glancing at his wristwatch. You nodded nervously, opening your mouth to suggest that perhaps he should head to bed now when Namjoon cut you off suddenly.

“Holy fuck!” He shot up from his seat, eyes set behind you as a terrified expression fell over him. You whipped around, heart falling into your ass.

Oh shit.

"No! Bad zombie! I told you to stay!" You scolded him. He was now standing behind you, having had abandoned his post in the kitchen. He looked as unbothered as ever, his hands tucked into his hoodie as he casually looked the two humans over.

"What the fuck?!" Namjoon cried.

“I can explain.” You turned towards the panicking boy calmly.

Immediately, Namjoon jumped into action, scrambling to crouch behind the couch as if to put a physical barrier between him and the zombie.

"You– Y/N, tell me that's just a guy wearing zombie makeup. Tell me that is not a zombie standing in our living room. Say sike right fucking now!”  Namjoon squawked, his voice pitched high.

You grimaced, looking over at the indifferent zombie before looking back at your roommate.

“Just hear me out for one second–”

“Are you insane?!" Namjoon shrieked, standing up in anger before realizing he had exposed himself and quickly ducking back down. "I’m not gonna listen to you! You brought a zombie into our house– oh god. He bit you, didn't he? You're probably turning as we speak!”

You rolled your eyes, realizing that Namjoon wasn't calming down anytime soon.

“My best friend is a zombie... this is like some horrible Disney Channel movie coming to life!” He rambled on nervously, running a hand through his hair in despair.

“For fuck’s sake Namjoon, I’m not a zombie! Besides, you know getting bit doesn't turn people– that was disproved ages ago.” You scoffed, glancing over at the zombie man who still seemed uninterested despite the scene your best friend was making.

“Well excuse me if I don’t have the logistics of zombie contagion down! It doesn't change the fact that you brought a flesh-eating monster into our home, you psychopath!”

You frowned at your best friend’s tone.

“If he was a flesh-eating monster, then wouldn’t we be dead by now?” You stated matter-of-factly, hand on your hip.

“Exactly— wait.” Namjoon blinked, poking his head out from behind the couch. He frowned, glancing over at the zombie. “Hold on a minute. Why is he just standing there?"

Hesitantly, your best friend stood up from the couch altogether, "I thought zombies jumped at the chance of eating people?”

“Yes, well, for whatever reason, this one doesn’t.” You told him with a shrug. You had thought the same thing when you first came across your new undead friend.

You watched as the familiar flame of curiosity spark behind Namjoon’s eyes. Slowly, he inched his way over to the two of you, hands in front of him as if to shield himself until he was just inches away from the resurrected man.

For a few moments, it was silent, your best friend and the zombie running their eyes over one another as they each decided what to make of each other.

To your surprise, Namjoon's hand reached over and positioned itself onto the zombie's neck, pointer and middle finger pulled together as he checked for a pulse.

“Fascinating…” Namjoon murmured inquisitively as he concluded that the stranger was indeed dead.

Your shoulders, which had been locked up tensely as the two men interacted, dropped immediately, realizing that Namjoon's initial panic had subsided and been replaced with interest. It was in his nature to be fascinated with the things that scared and repulsed most, of course. He was studying to become a biomedical scientist after all.

Despite his cowardliness, Namjoon was actually quite fearless when it came to his work; he was extremely intelligent and had a natural knack for research and investigative methods. You could only hope that the prospect of having a real-life zombie to study from would outweigh any moral duty he felt to report you to the police.

“You know how illegal this is right?” He said sternly, much calmer than he initially was.

"He saved my life, Joon." You explained. "I don't know why but... I couldn't just leave him behind. Especially not with the DEAD Team on high alert with the recent sightings. They'd kill him if they found him."

Namjoon turned away from the zombie, sighing as he met your eyes.

"Well... maybe they should."

You frowned, "Joon–"

"I mean think about what it stands for in the first place: Designated Eradication And Decimation. An entire team was put together solely to get rid of these guys. Surely, there’s a reason why. The government wouldn't put a group together like that if zombies didn't pose a threat to humankind, right?”

Your brows furrowed, finding a fair point in Namjoon's words. Yet, as you turned to look at the zombie and found him placidly watching the television, you couldn’t find it within yourself to agree.

Suddenly, you were in front of your best friend, taking his hands into yours as you put on a sorrowful expression.

"Please don't turn him in!" You begged, your bottom lip jutting out. "I know what I'm asking is a lot but I wouldn't be asking if it wasn't important. There’s no one else in this world I could trust to help me with this.”

Namjoon's eyes went wide, yanking his hands from between yours. He twisted his head away from your pleading eyes, cheeks tinted pink.

"Ah, jeez, Y/N. Turning him would mean turning you in for housing him in the first place. Just because you don't give a shit about your wellbeing, doesn't mean I don't. God, you really are an idiot."

You let out a grateful squeal, wrapping your arms around your best friend, "Thank you, thank you! I knew I could always count on you."

The scientist froze in your embrace before letting out a sigh, patting your back begrudgingly as he muttered words of dismissal, neither you nor him noticing the way the zombie was now watching you two in interest, a curious expression on his face.

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"It's okay... It's just water. It won't hurt you." You promised, hand gesturing towards you as you urged the zombie man to come closer.

You were standing in the shower, clothes dampening as the running water hit your body. Namjoon was stood with his arms crossed over his chest, leaning against the bathroom's door frame. He had insisted on standing guard in case the walker suddenly decided that he was, in fact, hungry and went ahead and tried to have you for dinner.

The zombie watched dubiously as you beckoned him forward but if he had objections he didn't bother to voice them as he stepped into the shower after you.

"Good. Look, that feels nice, doesn't it?" You reasoned, leading his hand under the stream of water. The unnamed zombie watched as his hand grew blurry, the running water bouncing against it. The dirt that clung to his skin slowly dissipated, falling onto the ceramic tub and running down the drain.

Placing a hand against the shower wall, you maneuvered yourself around him so that he could stand under the showerhead. The zombie hardly noticed the swap in positions, however, too enthralled with the feeling of water against his hand.

"Here, now why don't you try standing under it–" You had placed your hands against his back, nudging him closer to the stream when he let out a noise of panic, whirling around to rush over to the opposite side of the shower, pressing you back into the shower wall in the process.

"Y/N!" Namjoon called out, moving forward.

"I'm okay!" You reassured immediately, pausing your best friend's motions. The dead man had both hands held against the wall, trapping you on either side.

Bringing your hands up, you placed them onto his chest, trying your hardest to ignore how empty it felt. Pushing him back, you let out a breath. Truth be told, his quick actions had startled you. As much as you wanted to believe that he was different, the truth was that you didn't know for certain if he wasn't everything the media told you he was. 

He was looking down at you, uncertainly laced across his face.

It was the first time you had gotten a chance to truly look at him this close. From here, it was easy to see how he was once human. He had pretty features– unquestionably, he would have been an attractive man when he was alive.

Something you hadn’t noticed before were the faint, blue veins that crawled up his neck and cheeks; markers of the Immortous drug that once ran through his bloodstream. Taking note of the dried patch of blood on his cheek, you pulled your wet sleeve over your hand before reaching up to gently rub against his stained skin.

"I promise I'm not going to hurt you. I’m just trying to clean you up, okay?" You assured him with an encouraging nod.

To your surprise, the hand that had been stroking his cheek was suddenly stilled, his large palm loosely covering yours. He kept it there, not as to tell you to stop but as if to show his gratitude– or at least that was what you told yourself. It was a simple gesture, but it gave you pause before a soft smile fell over you.

Leading him back, the two of you eventually found the water that rained down from the large shower head. You watched as the zombie flinched, face scrunching up as the water began to fall down the back of his head.

"Come help me get his clothes off." You called to Namjoon, and so the undressing began.

The zombie stood silently as he was left in nothing but his jeans, not understanding what was being said around him, but knowing that he was not in danger here. The taller of his two new companions, the man, rubbed a strange substance into his uncombed hair as you rubbed as his arms, a frothy, pleasant smelling matter coating his skin.

Water dripped from his bangs and ran down his face, some of it seeping into his eyes. It stung them slightly, and the zombie wondered if whatever the tall man had put into his hair was to blame. He thought to close his eyes to put a stop to the irritation but for whatever reason, he opted to keep them open for a bit longer just so he could watch you. Your hair was weighed down with the water that was bouncing off of him and onto you, face set seriously as you focused on whatever it was you were doing.

Your hands were warm, much like the water raining down his back, but still different somehow. They were more firm, and somehow more soothing. You were washing at his chest when you finally took notice of your spectator, feeling the zombie's eyes on you. Peering up at him, you laughed nervously, flashing him a small grin.

No, he decided. 

He didn’t want to close his eyes.

[ethrenisnotthehero]

@hogwartsmystory is a predator (part 2)

If you haven’t read the first part of the callout, I encourage you to do so here. As before, the normal tags are not included in this post in order to allow this to reach as many people as possible. Potential triggers are listed below, and the main content is hidden to keep sensitive individuals from being unintentionally exposed. TW: Pedophilia, Abuse, Gaslighting, Sexual Assault, Self Harm, Suicide, NSFW Topics, Faked Illness, Faked Mental Illness, Faked Death, Victim Blaming

Ren met Jill sometime between December of 2013 and January of 2014. At the time, he was dating another staff member of the website who will be referred to as Buttercup from now on. Jill was vulnerable in some of the most classic ways a CSA survivor often is. Her home life was chaotic and difficult. She was just finishing middle school. Depression had started to surface, and, worst of all, she had just been diagnosed with a life-altering chronic disease that would require her to change significant aspects of her daily life just to survive. She just wanted a place to fit in and be welcomed, and fell into Ren’s lures without ever considering the danger that lurked behind the screen.

Up until now, it could be understandable to argue that Ren may not have been purposely grooming young girls. Creating a mature themed website might be creepy and inappropriate, but that doesn’t necessarily make someone a predator. No, what made Ren a predator were his motives, his goals, and his solicitation of vulnerable youth into grossly exploitative relationships. What remains the most disturbing to me is that his behavior consistently fits with the profile of an egomaniac desperate to have power over someone dependent on him, fitting textbook descriptions of the methods abusers employ in order to coax their victims in and trap them there.

The Act of Grooming, Part Two: Approach

Even though common luring methods of child predators are well-known within advocate and legal communities, the average person typically has neither heard of them nor is likely to recognize them as they happen. Some behaviors attached to common lures are easily identifiable: a stranger somehow uses a young child’s name to create familiarity and abducts them, or convinces a child that there are prizes to be had if they come along. Methods like these have names, and Ren is guilty of utilizing at least four to his advantage.

The Authority Lure

When Jill first told me about her first interactions with Ren, she was quick to note how starstruck she was with that fact that he wanted to talk to her at all. “I was surprised that admins even RPed down with their peasants on this site,” she told me. Interacting with staff on the site made her feel special and seen, and Ren was quick to start chatting with her. He had a particular interest in her character. Someone of great importance and authority on the site, going out of his way to interact with her out of all people. He held power over her (over most users on the site) and that was something he was keenly aware of. More sinisterly, not only did Ren himself have power over younger users, but he increased his reach and control through the creation of alternative identities. Ren’s main identities were Aaron, Seth, Carter, and Lauren, all of whom he used to form relationships with and manipulate different individuals on the site.

Seth and Carter’s accounts have since been deleted, so unfortunately I was not able to see what kind of people Ren made them out to be. However, he clearly made users believe that these were all existing people, and used their identities to build his authority. When everyone on staff is the same person, it doesn’t leave very much room for dissent.

As for Lauren? Lauren was Ren’s real identity, and the mastermind behind all of it.

As you can see in this post, as of November 11, 2013, Ren was 17 years old. Not only that, but he was in a position of power over children in real life, too. There’s no reason that Ren would not have known better; no one in that position would be able to have a relationship with a small child as a “mistake.” Frequently, Ren claimed to be a babysitter for kids as old as 14, which means that children were fully exposed to him on all fronts. Ignorance is not a viable excuse for him; there’s no way he didn’t realize what he was doing was wrong.

A person might argue that there’s no substantial proof that these identities are fake. That would be a valid question at this point. One of Ren’s supporters (and self-proclaimed partner) has admitted themselves that these “alternate personalities” did not exist. In an attempt to explain away Ren’s toxic behaviors, they offered up a Dissociative Identity Disorder diagnosis as a defense:

However, there’s one glaring issue with this claim. According to the DSM-5 classification of mental disorders by the American Psychiatric Association, amnesia must occur for a diagnosis of DID. Amnesia is defined by the DSM-5 as gaps in the recall of everyday events, important personal information, and/or traumatic events. Ren never experienced amnesia associated with the “switch” of an alter; in fact, he claimed that he and his friends would regularly do activities together, and would even communicate back and forth online with each other during the same lengths of time on AS as he switched between accounts.

I understand that everyone has different experiences with mental illness, and that illness does not have the same symptoms for every person. Regardless, Ren was clearly aware of his actions and the way he used his other accounts to lure/hurt users. Mental illness is not an excuse for hurting children, ever. Ren knew it then, and I can guarantee you he knows it now.

The Affection Lure

Another way predators appeal to their victims is with affection. Pedophiles take advantage of rocky home situations or difficult experiences to abuse the trust a child has placed in them. Jill came to know Ren well through their role-plays. They talked often. Ren made himself available to her, gave her comfort that she desperately needed, and even offered other friends who could be an ear or a shoulder to her. When Ren learned of Jill’s chronic illness, he connected her with Seth, another of his personalities. He coaxed Jill into trusting him, and their relationship became inappropriately intense. Most children are exploited by people that are close to them, by people who they trust and rely on.

At the time, Jill may not have realized how difficult her situation was for her. To her, the chaos of her family life may have seemed normal. Having to compete with siblings and neighborhood kids may have seemed normal. Falling into severe, deep depression may have seemed normal. The truth of the situation is that a vulnerable young woman was falling through the cracks, and Ren saw an opportunity to place himself as the most important person in her life. She needed to belong, so he made sure that she felt like she belonged with him. She needed to be heard, so he made sure that she felt like he was the only one who heard her. She needed friends, so he made sure that all her friends were him. 

Not only did he use her trust in him to groom her for a relationship, but he used it to isolate her. If everyone she knew was him, then he would be the only positive feature in her life. If everyone else was an enemy, then she would have nowhere to turn to but him. If he convinced her that she was his world, and that he was hers, she would never believe anyone trying to warn her about him and his behavior. Ren took advantage of a 14 year old child’s insecurities and sickness to insert himself as the most important aspect of her life.

There’s plenty of evidence that this wasn't the first time he’d thought of something like this, either. Ren had an obsession with themes of abuse, torture, and child slavery in his stories and role-plays. Much of his content centered around taking advantage of vulnerable people.

It wasn’t just his role-play ideas that crossed the line. His behavior toward other members of the site was hair-raising at best. His supporters try to paint him as someone affectionate and well-meaning, but he had habits of talking to young users in a manner that borders on profiling.

These aren’t things that someone a few months short of their eighteenth birthday should be saying to children on the internet. His behavior also delved into the realm of victim blaming, too; when a minor on the site was posting about their father going out of his way to make custody as complicated and as disruptive as possible, Ren had this to say:

A man, who would have been 18 at the time, with the audacity to imply that a child was to blame for the controlling behavior of their father. That their father only loved them, and that they might have done something to make a grown man act like a petty child during a divorce.

Ren’s idea of love was as toxic as his need for power.

The Hero Lure

This is, perhaps, the lure that Ren is mostly guilty of. An egomaniac soothed by his own words, Ren saw himself as a hero. In his own mind, he was a faultless deity who deserved no less than the complete and undivided affections of his subjects, but who fabricated false identities at every opportunity. In Ren’s mind, he is the hero. The survivors of his abuse are turned to abusers, those who dare question him are nothing but petty liars, and anyone not completely enthralled by him is nothing but an extra in his story. That’s what Ethren was created to emulate.

Ren has not grown. Someone who has grown would take ownership of their mistakes and apologize for the pain they had caused. Someone truly sorry, truly changed, wouldn’t dare to trample on the feelings of people they had hurt. Ren is no different now than he was six years ago, when he made the decision to change Jill’s life. Instead, he’s turned a survivor into the villain of his world. Instead, he faked his own death so that he could start over with his reputation on AS intact. He never accepted what he did, and instead continues to paint Jill as someone who needed to be “fixed.”

Wanting to be with someone because it feeds a need to “fix” or “help” someone isn’t love. It’s an adult man putting the weight of the world on the shoulders of a little girl. A girl already struggling to adapt. A girl already struggling to fit in. A girl who spent her second week of high school hospitalized because of a sickness that would change her life forever. Jill is a person; she’s a person who’s had to learn to live with restrictions that mean the difference between life and death. She’s a person who’s had to walk alone through the past six years battling depression and trauma completely unheard and unseen. She’s not a character in Ren’s world. She’s not some fixation to help him feel better about himself. 

Jill is a real, living, breathing human being with thoughts and feelings and a future: a future that Ren has done him damn best to make about himself for the past six years.

Ren never wanted to help anyone. Ren needed to feel important to other people to have some kind of meaning to himself. His obsession with playing hero went so far that he would torment his victims just so that he could swoop in and be what they needed. He would pretend to be sick or injured. He would go from having a cold, to strep, to pneumonia in under a day.

He would suddenly need a nebulizer for breathing treatments for his false illnesses.

His friends and loved ones would suddenly have life-threatening medical conditions and need to be taken to the hospital.

He pretended to have cancer.

He would use his identities to threaten self harm or death. He used Seth to tell Jill that he was going to send someone to kill her, making her scared for her own life. He made her a part of a world where he was the only one who could help her to satisfy his own sick need to be the most important thing to someone else.

When life caught up to him, he pretended to die.

He knew what he was doing was wrong. He asked Jill to lie about her age and told her that if anyone ever found out about them, he would get in trouble. He used his status as her hero to solicit sexual content online. He knew her age, knew how vulnerable she was, and knew how desperately she needed to fit in. He took advantage of that to fill his own desperate need to be the hero.

The legal age where a person can consent in Jill’s country is 16. When they officially began dating, she was 14. Ren was 18. He was an adult four years older than her, who would have faced charges of child abuse in his own state for their relationship. They had a sexual relationship online, which would be equivalent to soliciting child porn in his state. She never cheated on him; he was her world, because he made every effort to make sure that he was.

She never even saw his face.

She never even knew his real name.

She grappled for years afterwards with trauma, and he wouldn’t even give her the decency of having peace when they finally split. Instead, he came here with his stories. He wrote up fantasies where he was the hero, and she was the one who abused him. Jill was still a minor at the end of her relationship. When I asked her if she’s gotten help, she didn’t think a therapist would take her seriously. Ren took her ability to trust her own voice from her. He took her ability to believe that her own problems were valid. He took six years of her life and made it hell for the sake of his own ego and vanity. Pedophiles will often lie about their age, but most of them make it clear that they’re adults. Their true age might vary by four to five years (like in Ren’s case of claiming to be 21 at 17), but they always make it very clear that they’re adults. Predators know what they’re doing. They’re master manipulators. They’re adept at communication. They seem innocent on the surface, until everything they’ve done is laid out where it can be seen for what it is. Predators rely on persuasion, not coercion (Abrams 2016).

Someone I know asked me if I ever considered, even briefly, that Jill wasn’t telling the truth. I answered back without hesitation that I never did, not even once, because I hadn’t even touched one of the most important parts of my research.

Like other predators, Ren had a type. Buttercup was his first victim. When she and Ren met she was only 13-- Just like Jill.

Continue to Part 3

[drprettyboyspence]

Memory Lane

Dr. Spencer Reid/reader

Summary: Reader just can't seem to get to sleep one night so she decides to walk around the house she shares with her boyfriend, Spencer Reid. As she travels around the house she remembers significant moments in their relationship.

words: 2.9k

warnings: season 12 spoilers, mentioning of mental illness, nothing else to my knowledge! (just a lot of fluff) 

a/n: This is my first Spencer Reid fic and I kinda went off the rails with the word count, let me know if you enjoy it :)

I turn myself over in bed for what feels like the four hundredth time this hour, facing the ceiling now. I can hear the rustling of leaves outside and the distant sirens of the city, remembering how those sounds used to bring me some sort of comfort as a child, now all I can think of is the death and tragedy being an FBI profiler has brought me into contact with, the horrors at the end of the trail of sirens. Mostly noticeably though, I hear the steady breathing of the man lying next to me in the king bed, glancing over at my boyfriend of almost 4 years I smile warmly, his unruly hair draped over the pillow, glad to see him in deep sleep. Recently he hasn’t been sleeping well, suffering from PTSD from his time spent in prison as well as all the trauma the poor man has been through in the last 10 years of his life. I quietly get out of bed, making sure not to bother him, he deserves a good nights sleep and we have to be at the BAU in a depressingly minuscule amount of hours. My feet hit the cold wooden floors and I wonder for the uncountable time “Why did we decide on wooden floors?” A memory of an argument with Spencer answers my question,  

“Because silly, don’t you know that carpets can hold up to 200,000 bacteria per square inch, this room is 100 square feet, 144 square inches per square foot, that is 28,800,000 bacteria in our bedroom alone.” I remember shaking my head at him, he’s always been such a germaphobe. In fact, when we first met, he shook my hand, and later when I confided in JJ and Penelope that I had pretty intense feelings for the resident genius of the BAU, they mentioned that he usually hates shaking hands, is known for refusing to shake the hands of many people the team comes into contact with on cases. He shook my hand right away, it’s one of the things I love about him and we always say we knew right away that we had a special connection. I glance at Spencer’s sleeping frame one more time before leaving the bedroom and making my way down the hallway. There are pictures there, pictures of me and Spence, him and his mom, pictures of the team at work, Spencer won’t admit it often, but he wakes up every morning scared that he won’t remember those he loves, his mother’s dementia and schizophrenia have impacted him greatly. I stop in front of a picture of me and Spence, it’s the first picture we ever took together, Halloween almost 5 years ago now, at the FBI Halloween party.

October 2015

“Come on Y/n! How can you not love Halloween!”

“Spencer, what’s so great about Halloween!” I had asked laughing while filling up a plastic cup with punch. The party is fun, but all this dressing up just seems silly to me sometimes.

“It’s a uniquely American holiday! I mean, despite its obvious origins in the Celtic festival of Samhain and the Christian All Saints’ Day, it really is a melting pot of various immigrants’ traditions and beliefs. It became a little more commercialized in the 1950s with trick-or-treat, and today it rivals only Christmas in terms of popularity!” I catch JJ’s eyes from across the room, she gives me a sympathetic look as I’m stuck in another of Reid’s constant statistics rants. Frankly, I don’t understand how the rest of the team can cut Reid off when he’s like this. He’s so genuinely excited by this holiday it makes my budding feelings for the man standing in front of me even stronger.

“Aw you guys look so cute! Say cheese!” the always-hyper voice of Penelope Garcia shouts from across the bullpen, snapping a quick picture of me and Spence before running after Derek. I glance down at my phone and see a text from Penelope “It doesn’t take a profiler to realize how gone you are for him Y/n” I blush profusely before continuing my conversation with Spencer.

Present day

Tearing my eyes away from that specific picture, I continue walking to the end of the hallway, painfully aware that the floorboards are squeaking with my every step, hoping Spencer’s just-finished-a-case level of exhaustion will prevent him from waking up. I pass the threshold into the kitchen and see the dim light of the clock over the stove, the red 2:15 blinking back at me through my tired eyes, I just can’t seem to get to sleep tonight, I’m sure Spencer would say something like

“Chronic insomnia is usually tied to an underlying mental or physical issue. Anxiety, stress, and depression are some of the most common causes of chronic insomnia but even if you do not suffer from chronic insomnia, 35% of Americans report their sleep quality as poor or only fair.” Dating a living encyclopedia definitely has its perks I suppose. I walk towards the fridge and glance at the refrigerator, my eyes traveling to a postcard held up by a doctor who magnet. Houston, Texas the postcard reads.

February 2017

Me and Spencer had been dating for less than 6 months but as we had known each other for over a year I was falling head over heels in love with him. The last few months hadn’t been easy, Spencer learned that his mother had been diagnosed with dementia and not a day had gone by where he didn’t try and find a cure, he had been traveling to Houston,Texas to talk with his mother’s doctor, he then brought her to live with him in Virginia, it had been difficult to say the least. My fingers traced the edges of the postcard I had received in the mail this morning, then flipped it over and saw Spencer’s familiar scraggly handwriting, it read

Dear Y/n,

I was able to speak with my mother’s doctors today, I feel as though there must be more I can be doing, she seems to be responding to the medicines but I am looking into new methods of treating the disease. I miss you so much Y/n, and I miss the rest of the team as well, tell them I will be back as soon as I can, I hate the thought of you putting yourself in danger on cases without me there, not because I doubt your ability to protect yourself, but because I doubt my ability to handle being 1,402 miles away from you. Please do not worry about me, if you’re anxiously awaiting my return, stop looking at the clock because remember, when looking at a clock our brains anticipate what we’ll see faster than we actually see it, so the clock seems to stop, Ill be back before you know it Y/n.

With all my love, Spencer Reid.

I giggle quietly at the added facts, only Spencer would describe the phenomenon of a clock appearing stopped when glanced out. I’m concerned about Spencer though, I’m not sure what is going on, but there is definitely something not right with him and if I didn’t trust him so much I would consider asking Garcia to do a background check to check the legitimacy of his travels to Houston.

Present Day

This postcard is extremely bittersweet, the next week we were all rushing to Mexico, responding to a call that Spencer was in jail, I was a nervous wreck, we all were, it was an extremely rough 6 months, truly showing me how strong the man I love is. I push some of those harsh memories out of my brain, choosing to focus on the happy memories if I ever want to fall asleep tonight. There’s a coffee machine next to the fridge, if there’s one thing Spencer loves more than me, its coffee, or rather coffee flavored sugar with the amount of sweetener he puts in his cup every day. Spencer smells like coffee, almost always, he struggles to sleep most nights and therefore is always hyped up on caffeine. It's actually played a huge role in our relationship.

August 2016

Dr. Spencer Reid and I are walking to the BAU together as we do every single day, we live close to each other, close enough that he walks about 5 minutes before arriving at my house, we then walk to the coffee shop on the way to the train station. We’re best friends, but I’ve been secretly in love with him for months. Walking into Quantico, we get the daily glances from Penelope, Derek, and JJ who are sitting together looking at pictures of Henry. Penelope always teases me that we’re both so in love with each other that everyone can see it but us, it’s ironic actually. As much as I don’t believe Pen, I have been noticing small changes in Spence’s behavior the last couple months, prompting me to, in the deepest corners of my mind, hope that maybe he feels the same way, our friendship is worth too much to risk him not feeling the same way though, so I’m forever stuck. We aren’t on a case right now, so there’s a lot of paperwork to be done, at one point during the day I get up, asking Spence if he wants another cup of coffee before walking to the break room. I return after a brief 5 minutes and am surprised to see Derek sitting in my seat, arguing with Spencer.

“Come on Pretty boy! We both know you’re in love with her! Just ask her out man, she’ll say yes!”

“Morgan, quiet down, she’ll be back any minute, besides I’m 35 and Y/n is 32, I’m not saying there would even be a chance that we would get married but the marriage success rate in the United States is only 50%, the worst it has ever been, that therefore shows the state of relationships in the country as well, I don’t want to ruin our friendship, I could never lose her. Besides, I’ve never been good with women.”

“But that’s the thing pretty boy, you don’t have to be good with women, you’re already good with Y/n, she’s the one who matters, just ask her out man, you’ll regret it if you don’t.” With that Morgan walks away and I take a deep breath, its now or never, walking over to Spencer and setting down the cup, whispering in his ear,

“You never know how good with women you are until you try, Spence” He looks up at me with wide eyes and licks his tongue across his lips, something he does often.

“Um, Y/n, y-you heard all of that?” I nod and I can see Spence take a deep breath just as I did before walking over, “W-would you like to um- go to dinner with me Y/n?”

“Hmm I don’t know…” Spencer’s face starts to fall as I quickly continue “Of course I would love to go to dinner with you silly, what did you think?” His smile lights up the entire room as he pulls me into a deep hug.

“Well finally you two. You couldn’t have waited just a few more months though, I assumed you lovebirds wouldn’t get it together until after Spencer’s birthday” Rossi says from behind us, passing a pretty hefty stack of bills to Penelope.

That was the day that started the greatest adventure of my life.

Present Day

I leave the kitchen and walk to the living room, a chilly breeze blows my hair slightly askew, its June in Virginia, warm enough that all I’m wearing is one of Spence’s oversized MIT shirts with pajama shorts, but the night air causes slight goosebumps on my skin, sending me into my memories once again.

August 2019

Spencer and I are sitting on the couch, participating in yet another Doctor Who marathon on the tv, it's a rare day off from work and the hot summer air fills our living room even with the fan blowing through the house. I lie my head in Spencer’s lap as we watch the tv and his strong hand strokes the back of my neck, causing goosebumps to pop up all over my arms. I giggle and glance up at him causing him to pointedly look at me asking me with his eyes “What is so funny that you dare distract from Doctor Who?”

“It’s just strange, its 95 degrees outside but your hands on my neck give me goosebumps like its a crisp fall day, isn’t that funny baby?”

“Of course the most common cause of goosebumps is cold weather, but when you’re experiencing extreme emotions, the human body responds in a variety of ways. Two common responses include increased electrical activity in the muscles just under the skin and increased depth or heaviness of breathing, resulting in goosebumps.” I roll my eyes at him and playfully swat his hair out of his eyes.

“Only you, Dr. Spencer Reid, would take a romantic statement and turn it into statistics, and I love you for that” he kisses me and well, the Doctor Who marathon was quickly turned off after that.

Present Day

As I turn the corner into the living room I smile warmly, it’s the room that Spencer and I like the best. There are book cases lining the back wall, Spencer loves books, I’d ask him what made his books so special and he’d tell me stories of his childhood, his mom reading him 15th century literature, I loved when Spence told me stories about his childhood.

December 2017

I knocked on the door of Spencer’s apartment, it wasn’t like him to be late for our daily walk to work especially because he had been on probation after his time in jail. I received no answer, prompting my concern as I unlocked the door with the key he had given me. I walked into his living room and saw him, Spencer was sitting in the middle of the floor surrounded by books, running his fingers up and down the pages as he does when he’s reading at his top speed.

“Spence what on earth are you doing! Where did all these books come from? We aren’t on a case are we?”

“This year in the United States alone there have been 328,259 new books published, I read at 20,000 words per minute but at an average of 100,000 words per book, it would take me 27,377 hours to read all those books!”

“Oh Spencer how I love you, you don’t need to read every book ever published, are you going to start reading romance novels?” I tease while picking up a copy of 50 Shades of Gray from the ground at Spencer’s feet.

“Okay maybe you’re right, I just feel like I missed so much time when I was incarcerated, all that reading I could’ve done when I was trapped in that place, it's time I can never get back.”

“Spencer, I can’t imagine how difficult it must be for you, but this is not going to help that feeling go away, let’s go to work.” Spencer nodded and began to tidy up the floor before following me out the door.

“Wait, Y/n, I have to ask you something that I’ve meant to say since I’ve gotten out of jail, and I might as well say it now, will you move in with me?” He’s chewing on his bottom lip again and I jump into his arms in excitement, kissing his hair as he caresses the back of my head.

“Of course I’ll move in with you! I love you, Dr. Spencer Reid.”

“And I love you Y/n Y/l/n.”

Present Day

I’m coming around to the opposite side of the living room now, sitting down on the couch in front of the fireplace. I love the fireplace in our house and I think secretly Spencer does too. We argued for days over the safety of having a fireplace in our house, Spencer of course supplied with enough knowledge of house fires to last him 5 lifetimes, “But Spencer it’ll be so cozy, doesn’t it sound romantic to cuddle up by the fire?” I had pleaded with him the day we toured the house for the first time.

“Y/n, there were an average of 357,400 residential fires per year in the US between 2012 and 2014, an average of 22,300 of those fires were caused by a fireplace or chimney!”

“But Spenceee, that’s only 6.24% of the residential house fires during that period, 43.9% were from cooking equipment, are you going to forbid us from having a kitchen too?” Hey, don’t underestimate how useful a cellphone calculator and a quick google search can be in winning an argument against your genius boyfriend. Obviously, we had ended up agreeing on the fireplace, but Spencer was still overly cautious whenever it was in use. As I stood in front of the fireplace I became hyper aware of the floorboards creaking in the hallway just as they had done when I left the room earlier, I felt a presence enter the room and the 6’1” frame of my boyfriend wrapped his long arms around me from behind while burying his face in the hollow of my shoulder.

“Hi, baby, what are you doing up so late? Are you feeling okay? Can’t seem to get to sleep?” I nod back at him and recline my head so it rests on his strong chest.

“I was just taking a trip down memory lane I suppose” I say before smiling up at the love of my life.

[rpbetter]

Let me get this straight.. a roleplay resource/meme blog decide to screenshot someone's rules and call them out because of what they wrote? when obviously those who follow them could easily tell. Frist of all whatever rule someone wrote isn't there for one to go out of their way to bad mouth them. If there's something in a persons rule I don't like I'll be an adult and move the fuck on, not screenshot it and drag their name through the dirt. Christ! at this point I don't trust no one who runs those resource/meme blogs. They might hurt someone else with their nosy asses. And that Raven person needs to grow the hell up and stop playing the victim. Do something else with their life, stop living off the internet.

Yep, you've got Phase One down straight, Anon.

And the rest of what you've said is was what got multiple other people called out or differently aggressed at, that's what the response was to the rules being posted and...we're going to say opined on for the point of shaming.

You're right and they were right as well. It doesn't matter how strict or aggressive someone is in their rules, if you find that or anything else about them objectionable, that RPer is obviously not for you. That's a very important part of reading a RPer's rules, it isn't just about their reply speed, preferred topics, or tagging needs. It's also about gauging whether this is a person you're going to work out with or not based on both the actual rules themselves and how you feel about the way they're presented.

You just ascertain that, feel as annoyed or salty or even offended as you so desire, and move on. Like an adult.

It was never going to be that way, though, Raven specifically went to that blog to be a nuisance and call them out. They were already invested in doing so from a perspective of having decided this RPer was being ableist because a post that reflected the statements made in those rules far more nicely and more applicable to their followers was taken that way. Somehow. Raven took it upon themselves to ignore that the mun did make multiple statements regarding the entire thing, including polite ones when their post wasn't being reblogged with maximum hostility and accusations and constant throwing around of the statement "full stop" like lol please, take your own advice. Because, yep, full stop it's valid to have whatever opinion you do, it isn't valid to jump on someone's post like that and be upset when they aren't nice to you about it.

Also took it upon themselves to ignore that the mun is also autistic, which was the crux of Raven being a dick about it. This isn't fair to ND people, you're being ableist, it is my holy mission to decide who and what is ableist, broker no discussion from anyone that doesn't support my behavior, because I'm autistic and this upsets me personally. Probably because that mun doesn't repeatedly make it a big deal on their blog and on their every PSA. Making a not wild assumption there, since I don't either, and I was also an ableist swine for disagreeing. At the same time that I like myself too much, I hate ND people lol if you figure that one out, let me know.

That's been a lot of the issue here. Many if not most of the muns they ended up doing the most damage to are mentally ill, autistic, chronically ill, and so on. It was fully irrelevant to Raven and Co, despite all of them espousing that we never know what is going on in the lives of others.

That's why we really need to just feel whatever we're feeling and not interact instead of going on a crusade.

As you said, this RPer's mutuals, writing partners, and friends were all quite aware of their rules. Those rules have existed for the better part of four or five years as they are today, the people who have chosen to interact are on the same page with them, and it must be working out well. After all, Rules Mun was so deep in enjoying their hobby that it took a random, concerned, good resource/help blog they reblog from often telling them that their rules were being drug around the RPC quite a bit after the fact for them to know. I'd say that would probably mean their interactions and friendships weren't exactly negatively impacted by their tone.

And those people, as well as former writing partners and mutuals-in-law very much did know it was that mun's rules, yeah. You really have shot yourself in the foot when RPers with some animosity between each other take issue with what you've done to one of them, and that did actually happen as well. People knew.

Furthermore, since that mun didn't know for some time, even if they had been inclined to change the rules to appear like it wasn't them for the sake of anonymity, it wouldn't have been hard to find them. It was still identical to how it appeared Raven's posts (yes, posts, multiple), the mun was already getting shit for their PSA from the same group, and like everyone else, has an identifiable pattern in their OOC speech. They were quite identifiable.

In no way was not just dropping the URL doing anyone any favors. It was just keeping that mun from going directly to Raven and being the polar opposite of myself in the way I tried to address it. Like everything else, it was Raven insulating Raven while trying to incite bullying and bullshit.

Sadly, I agree with you on the meme/resource blogs. I can think of such a small handful of them that I feel are trustworthy adults not interested in stirring up trouble. I'd love to recommend them, but at this point, I'm really afraid of mentioning anyone directly in a positive way. I would feel so horrible if I said, "hey, everyone, the following meme muns are helpful, have a great reputation, and are very nice people, please give them a follow if you haven't already" and it ended up in them losing followers or gaining harassment because I said it.

I don't reblog many memes because that isn't my primary function here, but when I do find those that I feel are very unique, helpful to muse development, and so on, I don't reblog from sources that give me red flags. So, that's probably a good clue!

I'm just sorry this is such an environment of mistrust and bad will, it so easily can be otherwise by doing precisely as you've said. We've all a right to having issues with things, we even have the right to argue with each other, but we don't have the right to turn it into bullying and mob rule. When you have a blog that isn't your more private space of a RP blog, you're taking on a responsibility to be a bit better than giving in to our actual worst inclinations. It's just even worse because this entire experience proves that there are far more RPers here who feel the way you do. It really is a comparative handful of muns out there pulling this kind of shit, but unfortunately, that's all it takes when they're engaging in full-time harassment campaigns and extremely loud about it.

Thanks for being one of the many adults here, Anon! I promise you're not as alone as it seems. We all just tend to be far quieter.

[beckitty]

Hey, feel free to ignore if this is a weird question, but you've been pretty open about going through something like this, so I was wondering if you had any advice. I had longterm plans to move in with my partner of a couple years, but as 2020 luck would have it, the move coincided with the recurrence of some debilitating chronic pain he has that can hopefully be mitigated with physical therapy, but the recovery road will be long and uncertain. So I ended up handling almost all of the move, and now we've kicked off living together with me taking on all the household work and him doing tons of physical therapy and rest and just trying to get a couple pain-free hours. I'm also trying to be a supportive sounding board for his frustration at being in this really exhausting situation, so it often feels like I only do that, work fulltime, and do chores. (We both have therapists, but being frustrated about this can't exactly be limited to once a week.) I am... tired, but I also my partner physically and emotionally has nothing to give right now, and he already feels bad enough about that. Your stories about your husband's illness really reminded me of this. Do you happen to have advice? Sorry if this is weird!

It's not wierd at all, and its definitly a tough situation to be it!

The absolute first thing I would suggest you do is to prioritise your own self-care. It's a lesson I learned the hard way as my husbands carer, and now my nursing degree is trying to drum into all of us: You cannot take care of anyone else until you have taken care of yourself. Its much easier said than done, my first instinct is to drop everything to help and I imagine you feel the same right now. But you only have so many resources, you need to replenish them to spend them. You will be able to help your partner better that way too.

One of the things I would suggest would be to see if there is anything your partner can take on to help you. Even if it's just small things like managing the bills, or meal planning, even if he cant cook right now. Anything that takes a little load from you, and also gives him a role in the household, which will help him too. It could be worth him talking to his physical therapist about what he can do to help you too, they may have suggestions.

With the housework, dont be a perfectionist. It's ok if things get a little messy, as long as the basics are down. If the dishes are clean, and there are 3 towels and a change of clothes each available, that's good enough on the bad days. Do more when you can, but forgive yourself for the days you cant.

My absolute top tips for living with someone with chronic illness and/or chronic pain, it to have time for yourselves, and time with friends. Both of you. Even if it's in the same house, you both have to have time (and you should absolutely schedule it) where you spend your time not worring about him, not worring about anything, and just doing something nice for you. In that time, if it's not an emergency, you can ignore it. It's your time.

You will both need support from more than just each other. Reach out to friends and family, ask for their support. Even if it's just calling a sibling to rant or having a laugh on a group chat with your mates, it helps. There will be times when you need to get away, and go do something else for a while (once that's an option again) and yours and his friends cam help you out by being there for him if he needs it and going out with you when you do. My sister would come visit me once a week with her kids to visit, and would clean my kitchen for me while she was there.

Encourage your partner to reach out to his friends and family, so you arent his only sounding board, and because it helps to talk to people outside of the situation.

My husband and I have a shared friend group, and there have been times when its been too much, so we've told them so and they've all rallied round. It would have been so much harder without them.

I'm glad you asked me for help, please ask for help when you need it from whomever can help you. This includes his medical team, you would be suprised the resources they have to help both of you. Find out what local support there is for carers in your area too.

I'm not gonna lie, this is going to be hard on both of you. You will argue and fight, and some days you are going to have had enough. You are going to get tired and overwhelmed. That's ok, it's normal! When the worst days hit, forgive yourselves, forgive each other, order something nice to eat and do something easy you enjoy together. It's ok to take a day off. Finding time to just be together and enjoy each other, even if it's not always to plan, is important as well.

Not knowing the details, I cant give you anything more specific, but I hope this helps.

If you want someone to talk to, have questions, or you just need to rant, my inbox is always open. I've been there and I am happy to be there for the 2 of you.

[pro-birth]

Fertility awareness is often used as a tool by trained health care providers to pinpoint the cause of reproductive issues and resolve them without use of synthetic estrogen/progesterone (aka, what many birth control methods contain). I know far too many women who were given BC and no other option, despite having health complications that contraindicated it’s use, or wanting the issue fixed instead of covered up by a pill or other birth control device. Because that’s what BC does for health problems: it might relieve symptoms, sure, but it never truly heals what is going on. It never sets the foundation to require health care systems to value our bodies as they are.

Some women prefer birth control and that isn’t the issue, but fertility awareness definitely has a place in women’s medicine, especially since many are frustrated with BC being their only option given. These fertility awareness based models of care offer medical, surgical, and sometimes herbal/natural options for healing, but the best you can get at a majority of OB offices is BC. That’s it. (And then there’s the issue of some bc methods preventing implantation, but I’ve already discussed that so moving on—)

It’s not just about being able to become pregnant — it’s about the fact that ovulation and menstruation, when healthy, have a huge impact on the wellness and health of women, and it’s not something to treat flippantly. To reduce rates of cancer, mental illness, chronic pain, sexual dysfunction, etc, we HAVE to look at our biology and realize that it needs certain types of medical care to function in a way that benefits our short term and long term health. Our biology isn’t useless if we don’t have babies, our biology deserves a range of options for health care because our ovaries and uteri and other organs!!! Are a part of us!!! And have benefits to offer outside of pregnancy if we keep them healthy!!!

Seriously, I have yet to see people fighting for men to prevent ejaculation through suppressive artificial hormones because they “only need sperm if they want to be dads anyway.” Uh, no, in fact, one of the things a doctor will ask a man is if whether he has trouble getting erect or if he has nocturnal emissions. Because his functioning gonads is considered a sign of health worth protecting for reasons other than reproduction. And if they aren’t functioning, he isn’t offered potent hormones to “regulate”/suppress the sperm-making process: he’s given actual medical or holistic help! Why is it that for women, we can’t be given the same treatment? Why is it that our fertility health isn’t considered good enough to support regardless of whether we want kids? Why can a man be proud of his erections and semen yet women are expected to either renounce their biology as a problem to deal with or only respect it if they want kids?And even then infertility treatments in mainstream medicine are subpar?

And the worst part is that fertility awareness and it’s branch of medical care has been around for decades...yet it isn’t mainstream or well understood because of the monopolized hold that birth control and it’s ideology have over women’s health. Seriously, the maker of the Mirenda IUD has tried to argue that it’s healthier for women to not menstruate through forced hormonal suppression!!! Uh no!! Wtf!!!! Women’s bodies are not broken just because they ovulate and gestate and menstruate and lactate! Fuck the narrative that we are imprisoned by our own bodies and our only hope is to further break down our organs instead of obtaining actual medical care!!!

This shit is so normalized, even people who fight against sexism believe this crap. I see self-loathing for our bodies c o n s t a n t l y in feminist and health circles. And it’s caused and continues to cause all sorts of medical and social harms to improvement for our health. Obviously if people only know of one option (BC) and it prevents you from crippling pain every month, then yeah, I can see why it would be easily acceptable to feel untouched by or to hate our own biology.

But why not question this? Why not question when the world says “Your organs are only useful if you’re breeding to our liking, otherwise here’s some chemicals to make your organs stop working and we won’t tell you the health consequences of it lol″??? We question and critique everything else from how men sit on the subway to air conditioning at work to taking down fucking Hollywood with the #MeToo campaign...but saying that our bodies should have access to respectable healthcare because our gonads and fertility have a reason to exist outside of babymaking is weird, or unpalatable??

I’m so sick of being nice about this, I’m sick of the expectation that I’m supposed to like or be grateful for birth control when all it’s done is make the female body less than, and done social harm for women, childbearing or not, in our culture. Seriously, birth control didn’t “allow” women to work, it made women into convenient sterile workers even after they became sexually active/married, for the explicit use of overworked industries who did not wish to accommodate for female biology like motherhood; maternity and paternity rights were delayed by decades! The year I was born was the year they finally passed the Family and Medical Leave Act!!! And even then it was still subpar protection!!! FFS!!

So yeah, why be “grateful” for birth control when all it’s done is prevent a majority of women from having options outside of potent hormones that may hurt or kill them, or taking out their whole organs with invasive surgeries, whether it’s for birth control or for healthcare? When those are the only options we are given for other people’s convenience? When it’s history and current day use is riddled with sexist and racist ideologies that perpetrate systemic problems that harm me and other women? Fuck that.

And if saying that makes me a deluded sexist, then at least my sexism doesn’t involve devaluing female biology at the expense of women’s health and welfare.

[the-busy-ghost]

@ardenrosegarden​​ in reply to your query: “ I'd love to hear your thoughts on Malcolm IV, most of the older sources I've seen compare him to William the Lion so I don't know a lot about him”

Thanks for this and I should apologise in advance because I feel like I ranted in a rather incoherent fashion but I wasn’t sure exactly what you’d want to know, so I sort of loosely covered everything. To be honest nobody really knows a whole lot about him (at least, not like the info we have for later mediaeval monarchs) and he died quite young (aged about 24) so it’s difficult to know what his reign would have been like if he’d been an adult for most of it instead of a child. It’s also so easy to compare the brothers- they had quite different characters and sometimes seemed like polar opposites, though they did share a lot too, especially in their aims.

One thing that really annoys me is when people use the fact that he was nicknamed ‘the Maiden’ as if that meant he was effeminate (and indeed as if being effeminate was a bad thing). This isn’t just an issue I have for Malcolm, but really applies to any situation where a word like ‘maiden’ has been misconstrued in a modern context. Maiden is *specifically* a translation of “virgo”, which nowadays we might translate as virgin instead- i.e. he is not widely believed to have done the deed (and certainly never married). Not that surprising really since, as I say, he was 24 when he died and might have suffered from chronic illness in his early twenties, and was also reputedly more pious than certain other kings, but of course 20th and 21st century writers look at the word ‘maiden’ (or even, indeed, ‘virgin’) and suddenly start sniggering, or assume that the nickname was originally meant to be pejorative- whereas it looks like it was at best a compliment and at worst a mere statement of fact.

Speaking of nicknames though, one thing I find very Interesting is the possibility that he was the original Malcolm “Canmore” (Ceann Mór) and not his great-grandfather Máel Coluim III. When noting his death, the Annals of Ulster describe Malcolm IV as “Malcolm Cendmor, Henry’s son”, whereas Malcolm III is not known to have been called that in contemporary sources- though of course the Irish annalist could just have been confused, and I (among many others) still tend to mean Máel Coluim III when I say Malcolm Canmore, since it would cause confusion otherwise (and it does kind of suit him). So firstly that raises the old problem of what we should call the dynasty those two kings belonged to (nobody knows- I tend to go with Canmore dynasty since Margaretsons and MacMalcolm dynasty looks a bit wrong to me but it’s a whole Mess and I don’t think anyone can claim to be right. The only surname which any one of the ‘Canmore’ kings seems to have used at any point was de Warenne- which is inappropriate for the whole dynasty for obvious reasons). But it also raises queries about the nickname’s meaning. Ceann Mór translates directly as ‘big head’, though one could also loosely interpret it as meaning something like ‘great chief’- and Máel Coluim III certainly suited the latter meaning at least (and maybe also the former). On the other hand, although I would argue that Malcolm IV was not obviously a ‘weak’ king, it’s difficult to see him being given an honorific for his power rather than something more obviously central to his character, like his piety. 

On the basis of the Annals of Ulster (and William of Newburgh) some people have interpreted this nickname to mean that his head was literally bigger than usual, and so this has led to some theories about the nature of the illnesses which plagued him in the last years of his life. Some have theorised that he suffered from Paget’s disease. Whatever the case Malcolm is known to have been seriously ill on at least two occasions, in 1163 when he was at Doncaster and then before his death in 1165. Although these could have been isolated incidents, the evidence suggests that these illnesses had lingering effects on his strength and that Malcolm may well have been aware that he was unlikely to live long. Which, for all that we know very little about him and he was still a mediaeval monarch (with all the flaws that entailed) I do find genuinely sad. He didn’t need to worry for the succession- he had two healthy younger brothers, who, although nobody could have known in 1165, would both live to a good old age (for the time period). He also doesn’t seem to have been completely side-lined from government like some other kings either, though he may have had to take it easy in the last couple of years. But being aware that you’re not likely to last very long and that you have to pass on the kingdom in a good enough shape to a younger brother who, though loyal, had a very different and more impulsive personality, might have been quite worrying. 

And then, as I say, along with his illnesses he was also quite young when he succeeded to the throne. That might not seem surprising given the later history of Scotland (of the 17 monarchs from Malcolm IV to James VI, including the Maid of Norway, 12 succeeded to the throne aged sixteen or younger), but in light of what had gone before that was quite surprising, since previously adult males seem to have been favoured as candidates for the kingship and it could be a dangerous business even for them. Even more interesting is the fact that he succeeded his grandfather without a huge amount of civil strife (though there was certainly some). For years Malcolm’s father Prince Henry had been the heir presumptive to his father David I, and had built important networks in his lands in the north of England and in Scotland. He was an adult of much experience and influence, he was well-equipped to succeed to the throne, and he seems to have been popular enough, from what little we know about him. But when Henry predeceased his father in 1152, suddenly everything was thrown into doubt. David I quickly arranged for the eleven year old Malcolm to be taken around the kingdom by the Earl of Fife, as his designated successor, but there was really no way to be sure that acts like this would absolutely secure Malcolm’s succession. There are some indications of trouble following David’s death the next year, such as Somerled’s rebellion in 1153 and the alleged treachery of a knight named Arthur in 1154, but on the whole the wider political community seems to have supported Malcolm’s right to rule and he remained on the throne (and reconciliations with men like Malcolm MacHeth and Somerled followed in later years, even if Somerled did have another go in 1164). As well as the clergy and greater nobility who had supported his grandfather, Malcolm also had his mother Ada and other family connections for support. Nonetheless the careful networks that David I and Henry had built up in the north of England seem to have collapsed upon the succession of a boy-king to Scotland and his younger brother William to the title Earl of Northumbria.

This stake in the north of England has been the cause of some controversy- historians tend either to imply that Malcolm IV was at fault for humbly surrendering the northern English lands in 1157 (when some sources would indicate he could easily have pressed his rights if Henry II had promised his grandfather not to challenge Scottish claims there, as certain English chroniclers claimed); or that his brother William was rash and petty not to accept that they were permanently lost to him (those who see Scottish history primarily as a series of failed invasions of England tend to see this as a nice moral tale). I think that both points of view vastly underestimate the complexities of twelfth-century politics, of what nobles and kings perceived their ‘rights’ to be, and indeed the complexities of dealing with Henry II of England in particular. On the one hand I could point out that Malcolm was sixteen and was not in the same position of strength re: England as his grandfather had been, so peacefully agreeing to surrender certain territories but secure acknowledgement of his rights to other areas could be seen as quite a sensible move, and on the other hand I could point out that William was sort of right to be a bit miffed about having his inheritance granted away, especially since Henry might have broken his promise. But overall it was a complex and probably difficult situation and since we definitely do not have all or even most of the facts (in contrast to later other disputes over the sovereignty of Scotland and Scottish claims) I’m not sure it should really define our views of Malcolm’s reign, even if it does tell us quite a bit about his brother’s personality.

For all that he was reputed to be pious, young, and possibly chronically ill though, Malcolm does not seem to have been an obviously ‘weak’ king either, nor did he show a complete lack of interest in war and government as some other ‘saintly’ kings are reputed to have done. We find him leading military expeditions in the years 1159-60, and he does seem to have thought of knighthood as a desirable object. Admittedly on two of those military expeditions in 1159-60 may have been in response to the dissatisfaction of his own subjects re: his support of Henry II at Toulouse (or perhaps they were just unhappy that he had left the kingdom for an extended period). He also had to deal with discontent from other key nobles- a reminder that the reports of English and Norman chroniclers regarding 12th century Scotland and its supposedly ‘saintly’ and ‘civilised’ kings may only reflect one particular view of what constituted ‘civilisation’ and successful kingship. That being said, like his grandfather David, we cannot really show that Malcolm was actively opposed to Gaelic culture and the native nobility of his kingdom, even if he might have been inclined to view the feudal ways of the Normans as the ideal way to govern. And overall, despite his illnesses and his youth, contemporary reports of his reign appear are actually largely positive and even complimentary. Perhaps this was helped out by the fact that he died young, and, again, that many of these reports come from English and French-speaking cultures (to them, Malcolm was the perfect successor to his grandfather David, and indeed in one of Kelso Abbey’s early charters they are portrayed together in a manner which echoes the biblical king David and Solomon). Although he faced rebellion from some of his chief subjects, especially those from Gaelic-speaking areas, there were also many native magnates who were supportive of him and his grandfather and it seems unlikely that they would have been seen as such successful kings otherwise (indeed, since the majority of the traditional kingdom of Scotland outwith Lothian was still Gaelic-speaking at this point, that has to count for something). Overall, I can see no reason why we shouldn’t consider Malcolm to have been a competent ruler, even if I wouldn’t necessarily describe him as successful like grandfather or some of Scotland’s later monarchs.

I do apologise for this screed of vaguely incoherent info- I am genuinely interested in Malcolm IV but haven’t had to think about his reign in any depth for a while. Lack of evidence and his early death prevent us from making any deeper assessment of his character and reputation, but I’ll round off with some quotes from contemporary and later sources about him that might give a much better idea of how Malcolm IV was viewed than any of my ranting can. Although obviously the full versions of some of these chronicles are online too (and are worth checking), I’ve quoted mostly from A.O. Anderson’s collections ‘Early Sources of Scottish History’ and ‘Scottish Annals from English Chroniclers’, since these sourcebooks are also really good starting points if you’re curious about any further aspects of Malcolm and William’s careers (you can always ask me, but obviously my view is always subjective). William of Newburgh is a major source for Malcolm’s reputation imo though and the Chronicle of Melrose covers some of the Scottish aspect- and there’s always the anecdote of Ada de Warenne allegedly trying to sneak a girl into Malcolm’s bed which is... dodgy to say the least, but probably meant to show how ‘saintly’ he was and was perhaps also a callback to figures like his distant kinsman Edward the Confessor. Overall though, if Anglo-Norman chroniclers wanted to wax lyrical about the ‘saintliness’ of Scottish royals, and David I and St Margaret weren’t available, Malcolm seems to have been the next best thing.

“Malcolm Cendmor, Henry’s son, the sovereign of Scotland, died: with regard to charity, and hospitality, and piety, the best Christian of the Gaels to the east of the sea.” - The Annals of Ulster

“To the king of Scots also, who possessed as his proper right the northern districts of England, namely Northumbria, Cumberland, Westmoreland, formerly acquired by David, king of Scots, in the name of Matilda, called the empress, and her heir, [king Henry II] took care to announce that the king of England ought not to be defrauded of so great a part of his kingdom, nor could he patiently be deprived of it: it was just that that should be restored which had been acquired in his name. 

And [Malcolm] prudently considering that in this matter the king of England was superior to the merits of the case by the authority of might, although he could have adduced the oath which [Henry] was said to have given to David his grandfather (...) restored to him the aforenamed territories in their entirety, and received from him in return the earldom of Huntingdon, which belonged to him by ancient right.”- William of Newburgh

“These are the ones who survive from that holy generation. From the Empress Matilda you came, most illustrious man, whom we now hail as Duke of the Normans and of the Aquitainians, Count of the Angevins, and truly heir to England. Your brothers are Geoffrey and William, of whom we hope for good things, to whom we wish the best. From Queen Matilda and the devout King Stephen came William, count of Warenne and Boulogne. From Henry came Malcolm, William, and David, heir to his grandfather’s name. May God have mercy on their childhood and may you too be merciful, whom divine-loving kindness has established as the most noble head of your whole people. May your holy gaze, your loving heart, and your effective action be upon them in all their necessities. They are orphans, left to you by their grandfather, who loved you above all people; you will be a helper to these your wards, for you are in age more mature, in hands stronger, and in feeling more experienced than they.” - Ailred of Rievaulx’s appeal to the young Henry II in his ‘Genealogy of the Kings of the English’- naturally there is quite a bit of hyperbole in this and I do have to suppress the urge to react to it with “Lol” every time I read it. This quote is not taken from one of Anderson’s books. 

“About this time the most Christian king of the Scots, Malcolm, of whom we have made mention, as was fitting, in the preceding book, upon Christ’s summons put off the man, to be associated with angels; and lost not his kingship, but changed it. A man of angelic sincerity among men, and as it were an earthly angel, of whom the world was not worthy, the heavenly angels snatched him from the world. A man of wonderful gravity in tender years, of astonishing and unexampled purity upon the summit and in the delights of the kingdom, he was taken from a virgin body to the Lamb, the Virgin’s son, to follow him where he should go.

Clearly he was taken away by an early death lest the wickedness of the times should change his marvellous innocence and purity since so many opportunities and incentives drive astray a young man on the throne.

But because among the tokens of virtue were not wanting in his admirable soul some small stains resultant from royal delights which nevertheless he rather endured than enjoyed, a visitation let fall, not sent down, from heaven chastisted him with paternal lash, and refined him to purity. For before his death he so languished for several years, and besides other sufferings endured severest pains in his extremities, that is his head and feet, that any repentant sinner would seem capable of being cleansed to pellucidity by so great flagellations.

(...)

His brother William succeeded him; a brother, indeed, as it appeared, readier for the uses of the world, but not to be more fortunate than he in administration of the kingdom. 

The world which his brother wished to use simply, and for that cause piously and laudably, [William] purposed not only to use but to enjoy; and striving much to exceed his brother’s measure in temporal excellence, he yet could never equal his glory even in temporal felicity.” - William of Newburgh again, who seems to have been a bit of a fan. 

I’d personally like to find out more about what any surviving Gaelic sources might have thought but that will have to wait. On the whole though, while I’m not convinced that Malcolm was the perfect angel some sources make him out to be, I can at least say with absolute certainty that he doesn’t give me the Fear like Alexander II has somehow managed to do from beyond the grave.

(David I and Malcolm IV, portrayed in 1159 in a charter from Kelso Abbey. The initial they are sitting in is ‘M’ and is the start of Malcolm’s name)