#in ways that are still relevant to a lot of people today. the way those beliefs evolve and change and become entire cultures

[rainbowolfe]

Japan has a high conviction rate because they have a low prosecution rate. They only prosecute people when they're super sure they can win. The relationship people have with the police in Japan vs America is actually super important. American cops were created to catch slaves.

That origin point influences how they function today--with the goal of catching as many people as possible. There shouldn't be quotas on how many people get arrested. That is why cops intentionally instigate and provoke. Why they look for—or even create—reasons to arrest someone who hasn't committed a crime.

So you can rest assured that not one of those serial killers and rapists killed in the first arc of Death Note were wrongfully accused lmao. In the context of Japan, if they're in jail, they likely did it.

Their problem is that there are also a lot of people who did commit violent crimes but face no punishment for it because the evidence isn't seal proof. That's why Light starts killing criminals. To deter people from doing crime at all. ((That's why it's relevant that his dad is lamenting another criminal getting away with it))

Context here is, again, super important. The NYPD is notably corrupt and incompetent. They're worried about looking good and sending a message to other potential vigilantes. So if we translate this over to Death Note... they'd either have the right guy or still be looking for him lol. But lets say they did just snatch up some random guy like they've done now. There's lots of reasons why Kira wouldn't execute Luigi.

-he hasn't been convicted of anything yet.

-Light would know he's not the actual killer via his dad always telling him about these case.

-Light himself is a vigilante, so to kill one without hearing his case would be hypocritical.

-L would casually deduce who the actual killer is and where he went. So Light killing Luigi would prove he was Kira. In trying to find a way around this, he would learn of the actual killer. Sparing Luigi.

-first arc Light wouldn't execute the actual killer if he was caught. He would do so if he had to find the killer himself (which he probably would with L on the case), but couldn't find the sufficient evidence to convict through official means. Second arc Light would execute the killer on principle.

Light would absolutely execute Bryan Thompson if Luigi is left alive long enough for all the information we all know now to come out. All Light's doing is writing names down. He's not killing anyone with his own hand. That's the work of some external force connected to the book..... yet he still takes responsibility for those deaths.

Bryan Thompson didn't kill anyone with his own hands, but he is absolutely responsible for those deaths. He set the rules of the external force. Those people are dead because of what he told his workers to do. How he told his company to operate. Because he knew he would benefit from it.

Light is able to justify his responsibility because they were criminals. Some amount of the people Bryan is responsible for causing the death of were innocent. He would classify Bryan as having "escaped Justice" which, he didn't do it often, but he did pursue and execute those types of people too.

I put my thoughts below. Feel free to share yours!

Light Yagami grew up in an upper-middle-class household and absorbed the dominant values of society. That's why his plan for improving society is to kill criminals.

Light believes the problems with this world can be traced to bad individual people doing bad individual acts, seeks to discourage them from doing bad things by making examples of the criminals he executes (if you do this bad thing, you might also die!), and does not value the lives of criminal scum. Values common in mainstream society, rarefied by Light's sheltered childhood, exacerbated by his father being a senior police officer.

Speaking of which, Light is even more likely to implicitly trust police officers than most upper-middle-class teens. His primary exposure to police is not the business ends of their truncheons, or hearing police victims share their stories, but hearing the cops share their stories. And not just any cop, but the head of the NPA; another layer of insulation from the violence and corruption of the common cop.

So Light is unlikely to sympathize with whoever shot Brian Thompson; he doesn't care how bad the American medical bureaucracy is, that doesn't justify murder! He'd be horrified by how many people cheer on the murderer, or at best refuse to condemn the act. He'd want to make an example of that murderer. And unless Light personally discovered evidence otherwise, he'd accept as a given that the police officers saying Luigi Mangione was the murderer were correct.

But that's just, like, my theory, man.

[masquenoire]

When in Gotham, if somebody isn't trying to kill you, you're clearly doing something wrong.

[precambrianhottopic]

i don't think i could believe in god if i tried but oh man do i think religion is cool

[entanglingbriars]

Cultural Christianity: Some Thoughts

The question of whether someone can be both an atheist and a Christian is relevant only in some very specific contexts. In theocratically Christian countries (which has been the normative way to Do Government in Christendom for most of its history), apostasy is literally a crime; if you're an atheist in one of those places you're probably going to keep your mouth shut about it and if you do open it you can expect to be repudiated by your former community.

In countries that aren't theocratically Christian, Christianity frequently functions at least in part as an ethnic indicator. In Northern Ireland it makes sense to ask an atheist whether she's a Catholic or a Protestant atheist. In places where Christians are a minority, they are frequently an ethnic minority, and that will be bound up in their culture.

The only places where the question is relevant are some culturally Christian countries that are not theocratic and where for the most part Christian membership is not ethnically marked. In the United States (which is what I'll be focusing on), that means white American Protestants. (And not even all of them. A born-in Jehovah's Witness may be a white American Protestant, but her culture is definitely not the dominant Christian culture in this country.)

One of the weirder things about this debate, to me, is that on tumblr this debate seems to be largely between gentile atheists and Jews. It's not something I see coming from Muslims, Buddhists, Hindus, or Sikhs. It's definitely not something that Christians care about.

As far as I can tell, no one is arguing that the United States is not dominated by (white American Protestant) Christian culture or that everyone who lives here is not to some degree affected by that. The debate seems very much to be about whether a specific person can (or should) be called a cultural Christian.

There are, obviously, some atheists who accept the label. Richard Dawkins is the obvious example (and I'd argue that Dawkins' embrace of the label should give people pause in applying it to others). Those atheists are not part of the debate. They have already been convinced that the term can (and should) be applied to them.

Notably missing from the debate is whether members of other religious minorities can (or should) be called cultural Christians. If I'm raised a Reform Jew in a Christian-majority area and go to a public school, I will be almost as exposed to Christian culture as someone raised a Methodist. But no one is arguing that assimilated or partially-assimilated Jews (and I'd argue that almost all non-Haredim are to some extent partially assimilated) should be called cultural Christians.

The atheists have noticed that. And they really don't like it. The implication it carries is that anyone raised (white American Protestant) Christian will remain so, unless they convert to a different religion and atheism doesn't count.

But the fact that it rankles doesn't mean it's not true. However, it does mean that a lot of atheists see the application of the term to themselves as a denial of their atheism and of the significant work it took to leave Christianity. Because in the United States, even now, leaving Christianity is hard. In some cases it's dangerous, but more commonly it "just" means risking the loss of your entire network of friends and family. This is less so today than it was, say, forty years ago, but it's still a thing.

Further, atheists in the US are a minority religious group. One that experiences oppression and suppression by the dominant religious group. Calling an atheist a cultural Christian identifies her with the group that is actively oppressing her. Which is bound to raise some hackles.

I don't really have a conclusion here. My sense is that applying the term "cultural Christian" to people who don't like it is, at best, counterproductive and, at worst, a microaggression. It doesn't seem to be helping anybody to use it in those cases and may be counterproductive to a discussion of the hegemony white American Protestantism has over US culture. Which is a conversation that is more important now than it has been in decades.

[cy-cyborg]

Tips for wring amputees: its ok if your amputee can't repair their own prosthetics

There's a trope in fiction for amputees to always be these mechanical geniuses who can make and repair their own prosthetics, endlessly tinkering away and improving them. This isn't a particularly trope, and i dont think its harmful or anything, but in reality, prosthetics are REALLY, REALLY complicated, and a lot of amputees cant do their own repairs. And thats ok. Like, prosthetic creation and repair is way, way harder than I think people expect. Well outside the skillset of your standard mechanic, handy man or craftsperson.

People who make and repair prosthetics are called prosthetists. To become a prosthetist, most countries around the world today require you to have completed a bachelor's degree in specifically in prosthetics and orthotics, which covers not only how to make a prosthetics (and orthodics) but a great deal of medical knowledge, physics, how different forces impact "non-standard" bodies, the additional biological wear-and-tear that comes with being an amputee and so much more. This will qualify you to do the job of fitting/making the prosthetic socket (the part that attaches to your body) and putting premade components together to make a functioning device. On top of this, many prosthetists are also expected to have artistic skills, sewing skills, good physical strength and dexterity, IT skills, and more recently, knowledge of 3D modelling and printing.

You want to make all the high-tech components the prosthetists put together to make the full prosthetic? The requirements for that vary country to country, but most will require at least some level study in the field of engineering and/or medicine, on top of what was already required for the prosthetics course.

The reason for all this is because even "basic" prosthetics are extremely finicky, and messing up one thing will have a domino effect on the rest of the body, especially in more complicated prosthetics. It can also result in people getting severally injured if anything is even slightly off. many leg amputees for example end up with spinal issues due to extremely minor issues with their prosthetic that weren't caught until years later, and by then the damage had been done.

Some amputees do learn to do basic repairs. This is most common in places like the US, where a visit to the prosthetist can cost hundred to thousands of dollars (depending on your insurance), but it's also quite common in rural parts of countries like Australia, where cost isn't an issue but access is due to vast distances between major cities. I was personally in this category; as a kid, my nearest prosthetist was 6 hours away. My prosthetist was able to teach my dad, who later taught me, how to do some of the simple repairs, but we still needed to go in every few weeks for the more complex stuff (Kids prosthetic need more adjusting than adults because they're still growing. Also I was rough on my prosthetics and broke them a lot lol).

But even after being taught how to do repairs and having my prosthetics for 20+ years, I only ever did these sorts of repairs to my below-knee prosthetic. I will not do any repairs of any kind to my above knee leg, which is much more technologically complex. Every time I tried, I made it worse to the point where the leg was unusable. I just leave those repairs to the guy who went to university to learn how to do it, and sometimes even he needs to send it off to someone with even more specialist knowledge when it's really badly messed up lol. Last time that happened Australia post lost the package. Not really relevant to this post, I just find the idea of it being sent to the wrong place by accident hilarious, it was one of my more realistic legs too so someone probably had a heart attack when they opened that package lmao.

Anyway, back on track lol.

This isn't even touching on the fact that on some more advanced prosthetics, many features are actually locked behind a security barrier only prosthetists can access. My prosthetic knee has an app on my phone I can pair it to, that allows me to change certain settings and swap between certain modes for different activities that tell the leg to change its behaviour depending on what I'm doing (e.g. a mode for running, a mode for cycling etc). but most of the more in-depth settings I can't access, only my prosthetist can, and he can only gain access to those settings with a security key given to him by the manufacturing company that requires him to provide proof of his credentials to receive it. I don't really agree with this btw, something about being locked out of my own leg's settings makes me feel a bit of an ick, but it's set up like this because people used to be able to access these settings and they would mess with things to the point their leg was virtually unusable. Because altering one setting had a domino effect on all the others, and a lot of folks weren't really paying attention to what they were messing with, all their prosthetists could do was factory reset the whole leg, which causes some issues too. Prosthetic arms are often similarly complex, as I understand it and have similar security barriers in place for more advanced arms. I don't know for sure though, so take that with a grain of salt.

All this to say these are incredibly delicate, finicky and complex pieces of equipment. There's nothing wrong with having a techy amputee character who can do their own repairs, but in reality, that is pretty rare, and its ok to have your character need to see a prosthetist or someone more knowledgeable than them. It's a part of the amputee experience I don't see reflected very often in media. In fact, the only examples I can think of in fiction (meaning not stories based on real people) where this is reflected are Full metal alchemist.

technically I think Subnautica Below Zero also mentions prosthetists are a thing in that world, but its a very "blink and you'll miss it" kind of thing...in fact I did miss it until my last playthrough lol.

[kinghijinx22]

Why Silent Hill 3 is my big favorite- a terrifying horror game about woman's experiences and the fears that come from existing as a woman in a patriarchal society

Silent Hill 3 is probably my favorite Silent Hill game and one of my favorite games of all time, and it has a story and themes that I've always really vibed with. It tells a remarkably progressive story for it's time that handles some intense themes that are still relevant even today, about experiences that a lot of woman go through and the fears that come from existing as a woman in a patriarchal society, what it's like having your own agency and bodily autonomy taken away from you, forced pregnancy and sexual assault, how harmful patriarchal societies are and this game really getting into the religious flavor of patriarchy in particular.

It's an incredibly scary game that uses a feminine sort of horror to great effect, with the design of the other world being as bloody as it is and the monster designs being representative of this. I mean there is a type of creature that are literally supposed to look like fetuses that start getting bigger throughout the game as the birth of God draws near and the giant worm boss for lack of a better way of putting, literally being a giant penis. I think the main complaint that I hear from people about this game is how slow the story is in the first half of the game, but I think the whole getting home late at night as a young woman contributes a lot to what this game is saying. And I absolutely love how this game ends with Heather literally aborting God and fighting it as the final boss, symbolizing her fully taking control of her life and rejecting all of the harmful expectations that were forced onto her. Main antagonist Claudia is such a tragic character though, someone who was so brainwashed by town's religion into think that someone HAS to give birth to God so hard that she did it herself and she suffered for it.

Also while not as intentional considering when it was written and they probably couldn't even write about this stuff if they wanted to, something that I think is worth noting is that I've heard from a lot of trans people who relate to this game as well and I can really see it. Considering it's about people who Heather knows from a past life, coming back to remind her of that past life and forcing it onto her, and Claudia referring to Heather as Alessa could be interpreted as deadnaming Heather. But yeah I've always really loved and connected with this game for how well it handles it's themes about woman's experiences and I think it's really cool how many trans people have been able to relate to it with those specific experiences as well.

Another of my favorite things about Silent Hill 3 is the main character Heather, because she really is one of the coolest characters that I've always really related to. Her struggles are incredibly relatable, but she's also inspiring in how she overcomes them and is always so confident. In fact I appreciate how her and her father subvert societal gender roles in opposite directions, with Heather being as confident and extroverted as she is, probably more then any other Silent Hill protagonist and willing to stand up to all of the men in the story like Douglas in the beginning, Vincent and Leonard, along with all of the monsters she has to fight. And Harry being a single parent who is as gentle and caring as he is, with his one track mind of looking as his daughter, he's kind of both a father and a mother in that way, and also being as physically weak as he is and the opposite of a action hero. She also easily has the most personality of any Silent Hill protagonist, like this girl is overflowing with charisma and is even a little jokey. In fact another detail that I like is how much personality comes through in her examine dialogue, where you actually get to hear her thoughts on everything instead of just basic observation "this is a thing" that the other games in the series do. Heather has opinions on everything, but how she's feeling throughout the game is also conveyed. The dialogue of her observations in the first half of the game has a much more playful and hopeful tone to it, but after Harry dies she becomes much more pessimistic, can only see the negatives in everything and just doesn't seem to care anymore.

Heather is an incredibly well written and nuanced character, and I'll be honest that this is the game I least want to see be remade because I know that they would find a way to fuck up the writing of her character and handling of the themes of this game. Even after the Silent Hill 2 remake being as good as it is, one of Blooperteams biggest flaws is being incapable of handling anything to do with woman's experiences or perspective. SH2 used to be my fav, but I came to realize that it was mostly just because it was the popular one and that I vibe a lot more with SH3 and 4. Especially because SH2 tells a story about misogyny but makes it all about the perpetrator rather then the victim, unlike Silent Hill 3 which does actually tell the story of someone on the receiving end of that type of violence and objectification. SH3 and 4 are my personal favorites, 3 because Heather is best protagonist and I really appreciate it's themes which are handled perfectly, and SH4 because it has a really cool narrative and horror concepts. I know opinions on SH4 are really split, and while I think there are some gameplay things that are jank, I love it's story and premise so much.

[hivemuthur]

Nothing's New - Ch.3.

viktorxfemale!reader explicit!

AU modern era, lovers to enemies to lovers, getting back together, a lot of angst, smut sort of present moving from this chapter forward

Ch.1. | Ch.2. | Ch.4. | Ch.5. | Ch.6.

word count: 5,5K

tag: #nothings new

summary: Alright folks, some abrupt decisions are made in this chapter and I am foreshadowing Viktor's self-discovery (I will place a warning in the next chapter, as here it's still not that relevant). I will post some smut in a minute so you all don't get too sad :v

Cross-posted on AO3

—

You’ve spent the entire weekend stewing in your thoughts. Replaying the events over and over, from beginning to end, picking up pieces you might have missed before. It’s been a week since your last interaction with Viktor, and today is the final day for you to collect your things from his apartment.

You’ve been lying in bed, wondering if what happened last week was real or just an odd case of pareidolia—attaching meaning where there was none. Viktor’s anger, his cracking voice, the way he slumped back into the chair after you hurled fragments of conversation at each other. And yet, those fragments were more than anything that had happened between you in the past year.

People do such strange things after breakups. They throw themselves anywhere but into the breakup itself. They drink, get addicted to something, take up an extreme sport—or extreme hookups, which could also count as a sport—start smoking, dive into a new relationship, or become completely hopeless or cruel versions of themselves. And those versions do stupid, strange things.

Like giving your ex the keys to your apartment to pick up their stuff. Or being the said ex and going to your ex’s apartment to pick up your stuff. Utterly deranged. Utterly strange. Cruel on one side, hopeless on the other.

You have waited the entire weekend, sitting on pins. You haven’t seen Paul once, ignoring his texts and phone calls. Then, inevitably, Sunday noon has crept in, and you realise, that you have to go.

The journey is a drag in itself, but once you are in front of his apartment, you pause. You hold your breath as you slide the key into the lock. Getting here was torment. You thought the cursed triple-date restaurant ordeal was horrific, but you knew nothing. This is horrific. This is true terror. The terror of what’s on the other side of the door gnaws at you the whole way here, and now it gnaws harder, your hand frozen on the key, frozen in the lock.

When you hear it click, you release the trapped breath and close your eyes, stepping in. It’s dark. The day is muggy, with rain on and off, as the weather broke earlier in the week. The first licks of autumn hang in the air, and suddenly, you remember how freezing Viktor’s apartment is during the colder months. Your apartment. The apartment you lived in together. Whatever.

You take a timid stroll through the hallway—some pictures have disappeared from the walls. The ones of you and him. It’s expected, no reason to sulk. Moving on.

There it is: the lounge. The space where you’ve spent so much time reading, yapping, playing records, having sex on the couch, on the windowsill. Sleeping in front of the TV. So much time spent there alone, waiting, falling asleep with a book on your face, or staring expectantly at your phone. So many times you were abandoned here.

Viktor’s desk by the window is still covered in books, papers, and notes. He’s taken his computer away for the weekend, leaving behind a sharp square-shaped void outlined in dust where it had been. You draw a sad face in the dust with your finger, then hesitate, wondering if you should wipe it away so Viktor doesn’t notice.

You sit in his chair and spin yourself around, your feet dragging on the floor. No pictures to stare him in the face while he works, no particularly personal notes. No signs of Julia yet. No assprints in the layer of dust on his desk. Check.

You turn to the box he’s left for you in the middle of the room. Your name is scrawled angrily on it, as if Viktor forced himself not to write something like "CUNT" instead. It’s sealed, ready for you to grab and flee. But you want to see what remnants of you he’s collected, the things he so firmly believes need to be returned.

You rush to the kitchen and grab the first knife you see. Back to the box. A strange feeling churns inside you—something close to excitement, but also to dread.

With trembling hands, you slice the tape, reopening the wound. The box is stuffed with paper on top, meticulously packed. You pull the layers out and start digging.

Your books and clothes, mostly. You take them out one by one. Your T-shirt with "ALL MY BOOTS ARE FUCKED UP" written across it in huge letters. You used to sleep in it. You hadn’t realised it was left behind. It smells exactly of nothing—just a piece of cloth that’s been hanging in a closet for months. And yet, it smells faintly of Viktor, though maybe it’s just your imagination.

Books, each of them ones you love. Especially your first edition of The Lord of the Rings. Not the first edition, just the first one you ever got. A couple of notebooks with notes for work and personal scribbling. Your pin that says, “Bono in short legs shock.” Nothing in particular.

A few records are stuffed to the side. You wince at how he’s squeezed them in there and wonder if they’ve already melted and warped in the heat that was killing you not so long ago. And then, your heart sinks. Between the books and the clothes and an odd perfume bottle, lies a small box.

A gift you’d brought him: the tiniest chunk of meteorite you’d bought at the weirdest book convention you’d ever been to. It had been mixed with a natural minerals expo, an esoterica expo, and a reptile expo. Truly terrible. Until you spotted a man selling pieces of stars from his private collection. And you thought to yourself that if anyone on this planet deserved to receive a star for no occasion, it was Viktor.

He was speechless when you gave it to him. “Amazing,” he’d whispered, his eyes glinting as he weighed it in his hand. For something so small, it had felt so heavy. His heart had felt heavy too, with affection and devotion. He kissed you, kept kissing you until you were out of breath. It was wonderful.

And now it sits in your hand, discarded and abandoned. And it feels heavier than ever.

Forcing the tears back where they came from, you take a shaky breath and scramble up from your knees, clutching the box in your hand. You go to return the knife to where you’d taken it from in the kitchen, determined not to leave any sign of your snooping—except for the sad face drawn in the dust.

When you turn from the counter, it hits you violently in the face.

A Post-it note on the fridge. Viktor’s handwriting. Very old-fashioned. Very Viktor. More intimate than text messages. He’d left those for you once, before your intimacy had died. But this one isn’t for you.

“Miláčku, if you could grab my notebook on your way to work, I will be eternally grateful. V.”

In an instant, you forget your intention to leave no trace. You snap it from the fridge door, twisting it violently in your fingers. Something roars in your chest, and you can feel yourself spiralling. The need to go somewhere safe is overwhelming. So you go to the bedroom.

And there you are, confronted with another square-shaped void. The outline of where the bed used to be screams at you with the darker shade of wooden floor compared to the rest of the room. The empty space—what you remembered as small and cramped—now feels massive and vast.

You crumble onto the floor, squeezing the box with Viktor’s star in one hand and the wretched note in the other. There is no force that could stop your tears. Your lungs burn as you release a pathetic wail of a sob, granting yourself one of the ugliest cries you’ve had in months. The sun sets at some point.

Your chest and shoulders shake in spasms as your tears fall onto the piece of yellow paper, distorting the handwriting into blurred stains. This is the worst you have felt since the beginning. This is the bottom, surely. Crying in your ex’s apartment, on the spot where your bed used to be, clutching a word in your fist as if you refused to give it away to another woman. You refuse to give Viktor away to another woman. You refuse to give yourself to another man.

When you’ve run out of tears, you just stare at the note. For about ten minutes. No, for around twelve hours. You have no idea how much time has passed. You sit there curled up where the bed used to be, unable to move, unable to cry. The remnants of whatever composure you had when you stepped in are all gone.

You don’t even flinch when the door unlocks, and you hear footsteps and a sigh from the hallway. You are completely content to die here in your ignominy.

“Why are you still here?” Viktor’s voice echoes through the corridor, making him sound like an annoyed ghost. Hearing no response, he sighs again, louder this time, to emphasise how distressing your presence is to him. A caricature of a sigh, almost as if mocking someone else’s.

“I asked, why are you still—” He pauses when he sees you. “Are you alright?” The way his voice is laced with genuine concern makes you sick. It is the truest thing he has said to you in such a long time. One of the very few true things he has said in a year.

“What is this?” you ask, your voice utterly sad and so small. You open your shaking fists, and Viktor crouches awkwardly to make sense of what you are showing him. Once he sees the box and the wet, yellow paper, he understands.

“This,” he says calmly, “is something I no longer want. And this is a note to my girlfriend, Julia.”

His tone is devoid of emotion—quiet, calm, calculated. Inside, he is a storm. He left those two things intentionally, to stab you back. He had no idea the stabbing would work so well.

He planted them to stop feeling so fucking sodden. The rush of adrenaline at the thought of you finding those items was a momentary relief because he wasn’t able to tell you how stumbling upon your things jabbed at his heart. He wasn’t able to tell you that he actually played your records and read your books. Or that, when he found your T-shirt hanging in the wardrobe, hidden under his sweater—the one you stole all the time in winter—he died, just a little. How he hadn’t realised until he put the sweater on and discovered there was another skin underneath the wool. And that it still smelled of you after all this time. He wouldn’t tell you that he’d rather eat drywall than smell it again.

“Why is it saying what it’s saying?” you ask, your voice a sharp, trembling whisper, disbelief written all over your face. It’s so undignified to ask this. But dignity is a luxury you have to shed to get through this.

“Because I forgot my notebook for work the other day,” Viktor replies, his tone dispassionate, his eyes studying you like a scientist observing a failed experiment. This has truly backfired. Or rather, it has worked too well. In his wildest dreams, Viktor wouldn’t have dared to think he would find you curled up on the floor, your face swollen and defeated, exposing yourself to another blow.

“Do I have to wipe your face with it, so you answer my question?” you hiss, though the answer isn’t unexpected. The tiny dent made the last time you saw each other was, in the end, only a dent.

You wouldn’t even call it a crack—something you could peel off and peek inside. So, of course, you have to keep hitting.

His jaw tightens, but his voice remains cool, measured. “It is a pet name. A word you use for someone you are in love with.” He is hitting back. Your anger makes him angry. The fact that you are so angry and broken means that nothing has ended, nothing has resolved. And it boils the fear within him, and he attacks when he is afraid. Normally, it wouldn’t be a phrase to play with. But now, he is afraid.

The paper in your hand crunches loudly as you snap your fist shut. “It belongs to me,” you say in a dark tone, your voice brimming with equal parts defiance and anguish.

Viktor scoffs. “That’s rich. Nothing in here belongs to you, save for the trash you refuse to take out.” He stands up to accentuate his disgust. “Are you honestly being jealous right now?”

“No!” You shake your head and pick yourself up to level with him. “But this is just… cruel,” you shoot back, your voice rising, cracking under the weight of his dismissal.

“You will forgive me,” Viktor says with a bitter smile, “but I don’t follow. Which part of me doing the exact same thing that you are doing—moving on—is cruel?” He hasn’t moved on. He is standing stuck in one place. Julia is a distraction, and he knows it. And he knows it’s wrong to use someone like that, but he is only human. And there is no comfort in the idea of being eternally broken.

“You know exactly what I am talking about! Did you leave it here intentionally? Did you do this to hurt me?” Low. You are so low right now, the sound of you hitting this new bottom is echoing across your skull.

“You are so fucking full of yourself,” he spits, his voice dripping venom. “This is my house. It was on my fridge. As far as I remember, there was nothing in my fridge that you might possibly need to take with you.” Except for this exact note that I left there for you to see. That I left there to hurt you, and you are absolutely right about me because you know me better than I know myself.

“Why did you make me come here?” you demand, your voice trembling with rage and heartbreak.

“Do I look like a delivery man to you?” Another cold scoff. Fast, so fast, he’s afraid you are going to see.

“Viktor. This—this is not going to work the way you think it will. You can’t just get rid of me. I will be in your life. I—”

“No!” he roars, the crack in his composure finally showing. “I want you gone. You—you fucking abandoned me! You ran, as if I were some abusive bastard. You do not get the right to demand anything from me!”

You are actually being screamed at by Viktor. Your brain short-circuits, and you blink a couple of times.

“What about Jayce and Mel?” you counter, clutching at straws, desperate to find a thread that could keep you tethered to him. Why, though? Were you really going to be friends again?

“I don’t give a fuck about Mel. And if I can live without you, I can live without Jayce,” he snaps, his voice teetering between fury and despair.

“Viktor, you cannot be serious right now. Jayce is—”

“I would rip off my leg to rid myself of you,” he cuts you off, his voice raw and unfiltered, his accent thickening under the weight of his emotions. “The good one. There is nowhere I wouldn’t go to rid myself of you. I regret—”

“I could slap you for that,” you interrupt, your voice low and trembling with fury.

“I wish you would,” he shoots back, stepping closer, his face a mask of tortured defiance. “I wish you would do fucking anything other than run. I wish you had waited for me that evening and talked to me. I wish you didn’t wipe your face with a note. I wish you’d picked up the phone instead of turning it off. You ruined me. You stole so many months of my life. And you dare to be surprised that I have found someone.”

“You abandoned me first,” you whisper, your voice barely audible, but the words hit him like a blow.

“Don’t,” he warns, his voice tight, his eyes closing as if to shield himself from the truth. He knows. He knows. But for once, when he needed you to be strong, you were weak, and he couldn’t forgive that. Just once, when he crumbled under the pressure of stress, under the pressure of investors gnawing at him and Jayce, he just wanted you to stay put. To just be the person he came back to, day after day, until it passed. And when you crumbled, he hated you because you made him hate himself for being weak as well.

“You abandoned me first,” you repeat, louder this time, the words escaping your lips like a confession. “I loved you so much.” There are so many bottoms yet to be discovered by you, you realise. Stacked in layers, only for you to be painfully peeled off, like the paper skin on shoulders burned in the sun.

“Stop,” he says again, his voice faltering, the dent cracking as you keep hitting. As you keep scratching and clawing your nails at it.

“I tried to stay, but I couldn’t,” you continue, tears spilling over your cheeks, your voice alien even to you.

“Stop this,” he pleads, stepping closer. His hand reaches out, hesitating in mid-air before brushing against your face. His touch is tentative, trembling. His thumb sweeps the tear running down your cheek. His face, morphing in anguish, rage, something you can’t read—hesitation, resignation—all of those things watercolour across his eyes, his eyebrows, his lopsided mouth, transforming from one into another second after second.

“It ripped me apart,” you whisper, and his hand drops, his head bowing under the leaden weight of it all.

You feel the fear of the moment escalating or fading—both wrong—as now this is the most real thing that has transpired between you in almost a year. Your breath hitches when Viktor steps closer. And then.

He rubs his face against yours, his breath trapped in his throat as his composure fades. You freeze. The feeling of his skin on yours—so familiar. He swallows hard, his Adam’s apple jumping, and finally, his golden eyes meet yours. And then. And then.

And then.

The featherlight brush of his lips—not yet a kiss. A strangled movement, hesitant and unsure. Your face cupped in his hands, the pull of gravity still stronger than the pull of his arms. And you stay, fixed in your place, breathing in his scent.

The last time you kissed was a long time ago, save for the absent pecks you gave each other when coming and going. And before that, you kissed many times. But never like this. Never so uncertain, so afraid.

He holds the back of your head as if you were water. It isn’t just one kiss. It’s plenty of lingering, sad kisses—no tongue, just his soft lips gently pressing against yours, making tiny smacking sounds each time he retreats to start again.

The outside of him is calm, but his heart flutters in his chest, and you can feel it under your hands, fisting his sweater. You kiss him back with equal, fleeting tenderness. Your hands travel to his neck, to his cheeks, ghosting over the beauty marks on his face. In the deafening silence of this space, all you can hear is his shuddery breath.

So this is how it used to feel. You remember. The one tremendous feeling that was missing, that you had forgotten about. Belonging. It crawls back into the periphery of your nerves—the sensation of being taken and kept, falling from his mouth to yours. But this time, you take him back; you keep him back.

He closes his eyes and kisses you deeper, pulls you closer. The familiarity of it erases all his careful plans to kick you out of his life. It clouds his judgment as he does the unthinkable. His fingernails scrape faintly against your cheeks, and you open your mouth fully for him, allowing him to swallow you. Your tongues touch, and Viktor groans. Because it feels different than with other people, and he can’t deny it.

His cane clatters against the wood as he leans on you, pushing you toward the windowsill. His fingers now dig into your ribs, knocking the air out of your lungs. You hop up, open your legs, and he is between them immediately. Leaning on you, squeezing the back of your neck, his hands all over you, under your clothes, and you gasp for air, rutting your hips against him to feel more of him—all of him.

Your hands fumble with his shirt and sweater so you can touch the flat plane of his stomach. His belly button glues itself back to his spine as you slide your palms underneath. Your breaths grow heavy as his hands fist your hair and press you further into his face until you can’t breathe. He gropes you so hungrily it almost hurts; all the clothes you are wearing hurt your skin, and only Viktor’s skin can soothe this pain.

You desperately pull the layers between you up and press your stomach to his. His hips buck into yours, his cock straining in his pants, and he wants—he wants, he wants you so much he whimpers, rutting into your core, the pang of lust and need twisting in his lower belly.

It all falls back into place when he suddenly remembers what it’s like to be just blissfully fucking you, what it feels like to be inside you, and he is aching. He thrusts against you hysterically, cursing his clothes, his hands grabbing fistfuls of your flesh, and you wrap your legs around his hips, digging your thumbs into the hollow of his cheeks.

And it’s only when you moan out his name that he remembers something else—how hard it was to breathe when you left. How bad he felt under Mel’s worried gaze. And he knows he wouldn’t survive it if it were to happen again.

So he pauses, breathing heavily, resting his forehead against yours. He snarls and pulls away, and you feel something hooked out of your chest violently, leaving a gaping hole behind. He disappears from your space so fast you can only register him moving further between your blinks.

When you open your eyes again, you see him in the far corner of the room, hunched on his cane, chest heaving, turned so that he wouldn’t face you.

“Get out.” His voice is flat and rotten, as if someone has made him eat poison.

Wordlessly, you take the box with the star chunk from your pocket and place it on the windowsill before leaving the room. You drop your belongings back into the previously gutted box, not bothering to seal it back up, drop the keys into the bowl by the door, and leave with a loud thud echoing all the way back to the bedroom.

Viktor stands by the window, waiting to see you out on the street. His hand clasps against his mouth, trying to suppress a sob, his eyes fixed on you down there, so tiny, waving in a cab. It swallows you and takes you away, alongside your things.

It’s getting late, but he still calls Julia. He gives her the worst, most generic talk he can muster. He gives her a weak “It’s not you, it’s me,” which is, of course, a lie. Because it’s about her—not being you. And he can’t bear another woman crying in his apartment on that day, but he braces through it. He doesn’t tell her about the kiss. She cries a lot, but they part in peace. She’s understanding like that. And he feels about one stone lighter when she leaves.

But it’s not enough. One stone lighter, that’s all he feels after. His apartment is still heavy, still weighed down by the absence of you. He locks the door, leans against it for a moment, trying to breathe. The quiet settles over him, a suffocating silence that makes his chest tight. It’s not like he thought it would be. He should be relieved, shouldn’t he? He doesn’t have to juggle anyone’s emotions anymore, doesn’t have to pretend to be something he’s not. But all he can think about is you. How you left, how he watched you go, how he felt that piece of him break off and disappear when the door shut behind you.

He makes his way to the couch, sits down heavily, his hand finding its way to his lips. His fingers press against the spot where you kissed him, still lingering with the faint taste of you, the memory of your warmth. He mumbles a quiet apology, but it feels hollow, empty, like he’s talking to the walls.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers, over and over, the words breaking him. “I love you. God, I love you...”

His breath catches on the last confession, as if saying it aloud will somehow make it real, but it only makes the absence feel sharper. It’s almost unbearable. The pain of not having you here, the pain of knowing he pushed you away. He presses his palm harder against his lips, as if trying to hold onto something that’s already slipping through his fingers. He feels completely gutted.

And you come back to Paul with your gutted box of things. He lets you in, no words said. He makes you tea and sits you on the couch. And you feel... so rotten, so evil for doing this. He cradles your head on his lap and makes quiet, soothing shushing sounds. When it starts to feel worse and worse, you snort up your sniffle and sit up.

“I have to talk to you,” you say in a cracked voice, Paul still smiling, still not realizing, because he would never expect you to do something so horrible.

He cocks his eyebrows and hums. “Oh-oh.”

“Paul, I’m serious,” you say, your voice trembling. The tea in your hands cools as the weight of what you’re about to tell him crushes you into the couch.

“You sure you want to do this now? Seems like you had a hard day already,” Paul replies, his tone gentle, though his gaze searches yours cautiously, as if bracing for something heavy. He’s ready for many things. He understands breakups are complicated. He knows how fresh this is when you started. And he’s told himself he’s ready for this kind of moment as well. Yet. Yet.

“I need to tell you something,” you insist, setting the tea down and folding your hands in your lap to stop them from shaking.

“Let me guess. Things are not as over between you and Viktor as you thought they were,” Paul says, leaning back, his face unreadable but his voice still gentle, knowing.

“I—” you stammer, feeling a lump rise in your throat. Were you this obvious?

“You don’t need a genius to know that. It was pretty fast… you and me. I am aware,” he continues, his voice soft but tinged with resignation, his fingers fidgeting with the hem of his jumper. He’s actually hoping to be wrong, but well.

“We kissed,” you admit, the words spilling out like a confession you can’t hold back any longer. And then you wince as the memory somehow becomes real once you speak it out loud. But you can’t tell him what kind of kiss it was. That you’ve betrayed Paul about a million times today, with each tender and longing kiss Viktor gave you—and you gave back to him. Let him think it was just a kiss.

“Oh.” Paul freezes, his expression shifting ever so slightly, though you can’t tell if it’s surprise or hurt—or both.

“Oh?” you echo, your own voice quivering with uncertainty, afraid of what will follow.

“Well, I… I didn’t exactly expect you to say that,” he admits, running a hand through his hair, his movements deliberate, as if giving himself time to think.

“What did you think I was going to say?” you ask, your voice cracking, the weight of guilt pressing on your chest like a vice. The bottoms just keep coming.

“Oh, I don’t know. That you’re not ready to move in yet? I don’t know what I was thinking, really,” he says with a bitter laugh, his shoulders sagging as he looks away from you for the first time.

“Paul—” you start, but he cuts you off with a raised hand.

“Do you want to get back together with him?” he asks, his tone measured, though the tension in his jaw betrays him.

“No,” you say quickly, but the certainty in your voice wavers under his gaze. No. No, you don’t want to. You’re sure you don’t want to. And yet.

“Do you want to move in with me?” he asks, his voice quieter this time, almost cautious, as if he doesn’t want to hear the answer.

“I… don’t know,” you admit, your hands clenching into fists against your thighs, wishing you had an answer that would hurt less. No. You don’t want to.

“Do you still love him?” Paul’s question lingers in the air like a storm cloud. You swallow hard, your silence speaking louder than any words could. And you hate yourself for it. This poor, kind man. And what you did to him. Almost the exact same thing Viktor did to you.

Paul sighs, the sound heavy with understanding and pain. “Do you love me?”

“I—I don’t know,” you whisper, tears pricking at the corners of your eyes under the pressure of his scrutiny.

“Well,” Paul says, forcing a weak smile that makes his lines more prominent. “I guess that concludes it.”

“Paul—” you try again, desperate to say something, anything, to fix this.

“Don’t,” he interrupts, his voice breaking slightly. “I guess I should’ve known. Jesus, how have I been so stupid?”

“You’re not stupid. I am. I’m so sorry,” you say, your voice barely above a whisper, your chest aching with regret. He looks so hurt. And it aches to be so broken that you can’t love a nice, beautiful, boring man. It would be so easy if it weren’t so hard.

“Is that all it was? Just a wait up before you can get back with him?”

“Paul, I’m not getting back with him. And no, it wasn’t. I just… don’t think it’s fair. To be with you, when I’m not…” anything in particular. Not in the relationship, not outside of it. Just complacent.

“Do you have any idea… what it feels like to be with someone who is in love with someone else, all the time?” He looks at you and the answer is written all over your face, then takes a long sigh. “I’ll call you a cab.”

You sit in silence for a while. You drink your cold tea. You stand up, pick up your box for it to be taken from your hands and carried by Paul to a cab. He slumps it onto your knees and closes the door before you can say ‘thank you.’ Then he pats the cab’s roof and sends you away. He will make you his own box, soon.

And you come back home, to your dark place, with one box, and another already anticipated, to stack one on top of the other. Thoughts clattering in your head. Viktor, the mess you’ve made, the confusion—all so harrowing.

You should feel something, shouldn’t you? Relief, maybe? But it’s just emptiness, the kind that fills every corner of your flat, each inch of it reminding you of what you’ve lost. You try to focus but your thoughts slip back to Viktor, to the kiss, to the way he touched you, like he still cared, like he still wanted you.

Sitting down on the bed, you press your fingers to your lips, the memory of his kiss burning there, so vivid, so real. You can almost feel him again. The warmth of his hands, the way his lips fit against yours like they were made to. Your chest tightens, the ache deepening. You close your eyes, leaning into the pillow, whispering, “I love you. I miss you so much,” to the fabric, as if hoping that saying it aloud will somehow help you to repent.

And in that quiet moment, when the dust settles down, the truth you've been running from finally breaks through. It was always there, under the surface, but now you admit it. Now, you let yourself feel it, how much indeed you love him and miss him.

[takerfoxx]

I'm so fucking confused what did the Rock do

It's a very long and complicated tale, but the short version, the Rock recently joined the board of directors for TKO (WWE's parent company) and SEEMINGLY (as we don't know the full behind the scenes story just yet) used his clout to push himself into the Wrestlemania main event, challenging his sort of cousin Roman Reigns for the WWE Universal Championship and pushing aside Cody Rhodes, the guy that was supposed to be Roman's challenger, and thereby sabotaging a two-year story that everyone was invested in right when it was about to see it's conclusion. And people are pissed about it.

That's the short version. Here is the loooooonnnnnggggg version.

WWE has been plagued by a number of issues over the years (not the least being that it's been run by an actual rapist for the last four decades), but the two relevant issues is a tendency to rely on past their prime stars of yesterday at the expense of building new stars for today, and when they do want to build a new star, they have a bad habit of shoving their chosen golden boy down everyone's throat to everyone else's detriment in a nakedly inauthentic manner until the fans get sick of them (see: Ultimate Warrior, John Cena, and, most recently, Roman Reigns, who will become important later). Needless to say, they've had a lot of trouble getting the crowd behind what is known as the White Meat Babyface, or primary good guy.

The Rock started off as the latter, being introduced as Rocky Maivia, who was a wholesome good boy who was just so happy to be here. People saw through it and booed the fuck out of him. In rare case of the WWE actually listening and responding, they turned Rocky heel and let him vent his frustrations at the fans, which let everyone know that, holy shit, this guy is actually insanely charismatic and probably the best trash talker in the business! Thus, the Rock was born.

However, while he certainly earned his accolades during his heyday, his returns since haven't been so universally admired (see previous note about the WWE pushing the stars of yesterday). One instance about ten years ago involves him main eventing Wrestlemania against John Cena over CM Punk, who was the reigning WWE Champion at the time, and was quite annoyed. Okay, the Rock vs. John Cena could be excused on account of being that much of a dream match, but then they had CM Punk end his year long title run to the Rock so he and Cena could main event again, this time with the title on the line. This was one of the many issues that reportedly led to CM Punk walking out a few months later.

Now, let's move away from the Rock for a bit and talk about Roman Reigns, who was another example of the WWE ramming their chosen golden boy down everyone's throat. Like the Rock, he is part of the venerated Anoa'i Family, who are practically wrestling royalty with how many superstars they've produced (though they're not actually related by blood, but that doesn't matter, as those who marry or are adopted in are still considered full members of the clan).

Roman began as part of the massively popular trio known as the Shield, alongside Seth Rollins and Dean Ambrose. And during their two year run, the Shield were kind of incredibly awesome. Three badasses closer than brothers just wrecking a path of destruction against all those who stood in their way, a perfect combination of violence and genuine comradery...right until Seth Rollins betrayed the group and they all became single stars.

Now, despite the WWE having high hopes for all three, Roman was clearly the anointed heir, despite being the least experienced of the three. Unfortunately, they went about this by making him essentially a John Cena clone. Smelling another corporate babyface about to be shoved down their throats, the fans turned on him and turned on him HARD, making him the most loathed face in wrestling for years despite always being treated by the company as a beloved hero. Finally, the decision was made to turn Roman Reigns heel, unleashing his dark side and turning him into the Tribal Chief, a sadistic and manipulative monster who's held an iron grip on the title for literally years. Needless to say, it has been a massive improvement, and he is now quite awesome (though people are sick of how long he's been champion, but that's neither here nor there).

Anyway, heel Roman has been champion for basically forever at this point, and it's been a question of who will eventually be the one to dethrone him, because whoever it is automatically becomes the biggest star in the business. And given what an accomplishment that is, there really can be no place it can happen other than the main event of Wrestlemania.

Enter Cody Rhodes.

Like Roman and the Rock, Cody also comes from a prestigious wrestling family. Cody is the son of the late, great Dusty Rhodes, the American Dream. And this pedigree has weighed heavily on him, both in and out of storyline.

Now, unlike his plain-looking and tubby father, Cody looks like he was grown in a lab to become the perfect WWE wrestler. Movie star looks, an absolutely ripped body, and physical charisma for days. Despite this, his first WWE run didn't go how he wanted. While he saw a fair amount of success, he never seemed to break out of the midcard and was eventually saddled with the loathed Stardust gimmick, which he absolutely hated, and after realizing that things weren't going to change, he decided to bet on himself and leave the WWE to prove everyone wrong.

This ended up working beyond anyone's wildest dreams.

To say that Cody was successful post WWE would be a gross understatement. Rebranding himself as the American Nightmare, Cody became the opposite of everything his father was, dressing in snappy suits and carrying himself in an arrogant, sadistic manner. He worked for a number of places, from TNA to Ring of Honor to New Japan, and saw massive success, winning multiple titles across multiple promotions and building himself as a force to be reckoned with. He was also the impetus for the historically significant All In event, in which a number of wrestlers from a number of different promotions banded together to put on the first non-WWE show to have over ten thousand people in attendance in over twenty years, which eventually led to the creation of AEW, which Cody was an intrinsic part of as well. Needless to say, Cody was cooking.

Unfortunately, his own way of doing things didn't mesh well with the AEW audience, and they turned on him pretty hard after a year or two. Eventually he left to return to the WWE, and a lot of people questioned if he was making a mistake, given how he was treated the last time.

However, his gamble had paid off. His worth had been proved, and now WWE was all in (pun intended) on Cody Rhodes. In contrast to the volatile AEW crowd, the WWE fans welcomed the prodigal son back with open arms. And surprising all cynics (including myself), this love continued strong even after the novelty of Cody Rhodes back wore off, probably bolstered by how carefully his storylines were plotted, some truly killer performances in the ring, and the respect garner by him being an absolutely fucking champ and wrestling Seth Rollins in a Hell in a Cell match despite having a horribly torn pec.

Finally, the WWE had a White Meat babyface that the fans universally accepted and wanted to see more of, and they were going to capitalize. He won the Royal Rumble to rapturous applause and entered in a program with Roman Reigns to challenge him for his title at Wrestlemania. And unlike other challengers, he actually seemed like a credible threat. Much was made about how his father had also challenged for the same title but could never capture it, so he wanted to do what his father couldn't and finish the story. People were behind Cody all the way, and the time seemed right for Roman to finally fall and a new top star to be crowned.

And then Cody lost. Roman cheated, and Cody lost.

Needless to say, people were pissed. However, others said that maybe this was leading to a rematch at the following year's Wrestlemania, making his eventual victory all the sweeter. Certainly, WWE still seemed behind Cody, as he spent the next year in several high profile feuds that kept him looking strong, including going over Brock Lesnar of all people. And again, the fans remained behind him, when in past cases they would have turned on the guy by now. Believe me, this hadn't happened in a very long time.

But not all was well. There were rumbles that the Rock might be queuing up for a return one of these days, possibly to finally face Roman Reigns in another dream match to settle who the true Tribal Chief of the Anoa's family. People had been wanting that match for years, but for it to happen now, upsetting Cody's chance to finally finish his story? Well, that was the worst possible time. However, these rumors seemed to be nothing more than that. Just rumors.

And then CM Punk came back.

Now, Punk is a whole can of worms all in himself, and could easily fill a full post of his own. But the important thing is that he and Cody are very much dark reflections of each other, especially in how both were screwed over by WWE during their first runs, left under dark circumstances, and returned to the fans' adoration. And they both coveted that Wrestlemania main event.

In fact, during an awesome promo battle between the two, Punk specifically pointed out that he intended to do to Cody what the Rock had done to him ten years ago: be that bigger star who came back after not being around for a long time and take that Wrestlemania main event away. And sure enough, during the Royal Rumble, the final two in the ring were CM Punk and Cody Rhodes.

And Cody won. The first man in years to win back to back Rumbles. He singled out Roman Reigns as his target, cementing their Wrestlemania rematch. As for Punk, he had a main event of his own, as he was apparently scheduled to face Seth Rollins for the World Heavyweight Title at night 1 of Wrestlemania. It seemed that both of the prodigal sons were getting their wish!

And then CM Punk got hurt really bad and had to pull out of Wrestlemania.

Well, that sucks, but it shouldn't upset plans too badly. Seth could just wrestle someone else, and Cody's two year story could proceed like everyone wanted.

Well, we all know what happened next.

Yup. It happened. The Rock, likely with the backing of his new position on the TKO's board, had pushed himself into Cody's spot, while Cody (as it appears) will be replacing Punk to take on Seth Rollins instead. A two year story, flushed down the drain. Punk's words had turned out to be prophetic.

And while the fans were cheering in that video, once the buzz had worn off and people realized what had happened, that's when things got nasty. Over the last few days, people have turned on the Rock and turned on him HARD. Rocky sucks chants fill WWE events, #wewantcody trends for days, videos of the Rock get booed, and (unfortunately) even members of his family have gotten caught in the crossfire. People are NOT happy about this direction. Cody is their guy, and right when his story was going to be completed, right when Roman was going to be dethroned by the guy that everyone wanted to see beat him, this happens.

Plus, since then reports have been swirling that this decision was made by the TKO board, not WWE, with the Rock specifically pushing for it to "Save Wrestlemania." Which hasn't exactly warmed people to the idea.

Which is really funny, because the last time Roman Reigns and the Rock shared a ring together, it was in the middle of Roman's disastrous babyface run where the fans hated him, especially in Philadelphia, a city noted for its rebellious fans, and the WWE sent the Rock out to help Roman in hopes of changing their minds.

It didn't work.

And where is Wrestlemania this year? Oh right, Philadelphia.

This is going to be...interesting, to say the least.

[canmom]

using LLMs to control a game character's dialogue seems an obvious use for the technology. and indeed people have tried, for example nVidia made a demo where the player interacts with AI-voiced NPCs:

this looks bad, right? like idk about you but I am not raring to play a game with LLM bots instead of human-scripted characters. they don't seem to have anything interesting to say that a normal NPC wouldn't, and the acting is super wooden.

so, the attempts to do this so far that I've seen have some pretty obvious faults:

relying on external API calls to process the data (expensive!)

presumably relying on generic 'you are xyz' prompt engineering to try to get a model to respond 'in character', resulting in bland, flavourless output

limited connection between game state and model state (you would need to translate the relevant game state into a text prompt)

responding to freeform input, models may not be very good at staying 'in character', with the default 'chatbot' persona emerging unexpectedly. or they might just make uncreative choices in general.

AI voice generation, while it's moved very fast in the last couple years, is still very poor at 'acting', producing very flat, emotionless performances, or uncanny mismatches of tone, inflection, etc.

although the model may generate contextually appropriate dialogue, it is difficult to link that back to the behaviour of characters in game

so how could we do better?

the first one could be solved by running LLMs locally on the user's hardware. that has some obvious drawbacks: running on the user's GPU means the LLM is competing with the game's graphics, meaning both must be more limited. ideally you would spread the LLM processing over multiple frames, but you still are limited by available VRAM, which is contested by the game's texture data and so on, and LLMs are very thirsty for VRAM. still, imo this is way more promising than having to talk to the internet and pay for compute time to get your NPC's dialogue lmao

second one might be improved by using a tool like control vectors to more granularly and consistently shape the tone of the output. I heard about this technique today (thanks @cherrvak)

third one is an interesting challenge - but perhaps a control-vector approach could also be relevant here? if you could figure out how a description of some relevant piece of game state affects the processing of the model, you could then apply that as a control vector when generating output. so the bridge between the game state and the LLM would be a set of weights for control vectors that are applied during generation.

this one is probably something where finetuning the model, and using control vectors to maintain a consistent 'pressure' to act a certain way even as the context window gets longer, could help a lot.

probably the vocal performance problem will improve in the next generation of voice generators, I'm certainly not solving it. a purely text-based game would avoid the problem entirely of course.

this one is tricky. perhaps the model could be taught to generate a description of a plan or intention, but linking that back to commands to perform by traditional agentic game 'AI' is not trivial. ideally, if there are various high-level commands that a game character might want to perform (like 'navigate to a specific location' or 'target an enemy') that are usually selected using some other kind of algorithm like weighted utilities, you could train the model to generate tokens that correspond to those actions and then feed them back in to the 'bot' side? I'm sure people have tried this kind of thing in robotics. you could just have the LLM stuff go 'one way', and rely on traditional game AI for everything besides dialogue, but it would be interesting to complete that feedback loop.

I doubt I'll be using this anytime soon (models are just too demanding to run on anything but a high-end PC, which is too niche, and I'll need to spend time playing with these models to determine if these ideas are even feasible), but maybe something to come back to in the future. first step is to figure out how to drive the control-vector thing locally.

[words-on-a-tightrope]

Hunger Games Relevance

(Please read/boost if you’ve ever read/watched the hunger games or you care about what’s going on)

I don’t know if other people feel the same way but especially with the new hunger games film coming out I’ve been absolutely floored by some of the parallels between the world in the series and the current conflict in Palestine.

Firstly, Suzanne Collins did say that she partially got the idea from flicking between channels showing reality TV interspersed with footage from the Iraq war so I guess there’s a good reason for me to be seeing similarities now.

But the fact it’s being live-streamed - the carnage - the propaganda - the fact that lots of us have been following the same few (often very young) journalists who have become the ‘face’ of Palestinian resistance (because right now journalism IS resistance being actively targeted by Israel) - it’s all crazy familiar.

I saw a clip of Israeli’s sitting on a hill watching and laughing at the bombs dropping on Gaza today as though they were fireworks just minutes before Israel bombed the 3rd floor of a paediatric hospital. The same ‘Sderot Cinema’ where Israeli’s bought deck chairs and snacks to ‘watch the spectacle’ of the 2014 bombing campaign on Gaza.

The way not everyone in the capitol was evil or bad and some people actively supported the districts but realistically they were still complicit in the exploitation - even if just through ignorance.

The incredible amount of children dying - the bombing of hospitals and withholding of resources (like in District 8 in Mockingjay), the taking of people not involved in Hamas into administrative detention (hundreds arrested in the West Bank - like how the victors were taken in Catching Fire even the ones who weren’t involved in the rebellion), the collective punishment of Gaza (the firebombing of District 12).

The way Israel dropped pamphlets from the sky to tell Gazans to evacuate south and then bombed the route (literally straight out of the games I swear - the video of the pamphlets falling was like the scene with the parachutes in Mockingjay which represent hope and then detonate).

It’s so eerily similar and I just wonder how so many watched those films and read those books and are silent now - why could they identify resistance and oppression and desperation and exploitation in fiction and not reality?

And I wonder if maybe it’s because we have to remind ourselves that we aren’t Katniss in this situation - we aren’t the heroes - we are the Capitol and District citizens watching it all happen on our screens - and that’s an unfortunate and uncomfortable concept to grapple with.

[olderthannetfic]

*cackling*

Yeah, honestly, based on the LJ example and others before, the only way tumblr fandom will disappear overnight is if the whole site goes down entirely and permanently...

...which I don't anticipate at this point based on the general level of stability (not great but not awful), the level of ongoing development (existing, like, at all), and what little I know of the company.

What I think we're more likely to see is another few years of decent community fueled by other sites shitting the bed (twitter, I'm looking at you) and then another few of hold-outs complaining that tumblr isn't popular anymore and wondering where everyone went.

Maybe 5 good years and 5+ bad ones if I had to pull a number out of my ass. (But, of course, it will depend on what other platforms are doing during that time, what new megafandoms form, etc.)

The smart fan will at least namesquat on other platforms before the end of the first of those phases and exchange some kind of non-tumblr contact info with tumblr friends.

There are fans who are still on LJ and really only on LJ today in 2023. There aren't a lot of them, and I wonder what the hell they're thinking, but as long as a site isn't literally gone, there's usually somebody who refuses to leave. There were still Yahoo Groups that were active when the site was deleted many, many, many years after it stopped being relevant.

I just think most people are happier if they at least keep feelers out so they don't get caught by surprise when every friend's contact info no longer works.

[berylliem]

While I am gutted about today's EoS announcement, it's also important to note that for lesser known series, Especially Magia Record, it's the fandom that keeps it relevant, *not* just the company that produces it.

Magia Record has a fandom that I've seen go through so much garbage, what with the bungling of NA, not just the EoS but the promotion and the pacing and the lack of transparency, the absolute dissatisfaction we had with the 3rd season of the anime, and now today's EoS. But throughout that disaster, I've seen fans on so many different platforms come out with TOP TIER content, whether it be memes, art, translations, custom JSONs for the Magia Record engine, or of course, a personal favourite of mine, the @projectmokyuu fandub.

What is next for us now as a fandom should be "Business as Usual." Keep creating and talking about our magical girls. I have this saying about our fandom that I use to explain to people why I do what I do for the magireco fandom:

"The Devil works hard, but the PMMM fandom works harder."

This is a testament to all those incredible projects I've seen over the past 5 years in this fandom. Prove me right.

With that being said, I decided to compile some of my favourite magireco projects still going on.

@puellamagishowdown, and the magical girl thunderdome going on there,

Magia Union Translations, who has been doing some SERIOUS work ever since the NA EoS announcement, making sure the new content could be understood by an English Audience, whose discord link I'm posting >>here.<<

This Magireco Minibang, which is currently fielding interest. I would love it if it were to happen, so please sign up: https://forms.gle/ZpS4fcmFX7NGxF2z6

And of course, if any of you've been following me for a while, you know how important Project Mokyuu is to me. Project Mokyuu is a fan-dubbing initiative for Magia Record's Arc 2 content, content that never made it to the North American server. If you wanna help out, or if you just want to hang out with Magireco players outside of the main server, this is the discord link. We will continue to dub Arc 2 content until we are physically no longer able to. (and honestly given our history, even past that. We have a very committed team.)

It's been one of the great joys of my life to serve the Magireco community in this way. Thank you all for all the magical girl content that's come across my dash over all these years. I love you lots, and I hope to see much more magireco content in the future, as well as with the release of Exedra in the future.

[cripplecharacters]

Hello! First of all I wanted to thank everyone who runs this blog, it's wonderfully helpful in a lot of ways, and it's nice to see so much information coming from direct sources all in one place. I have a lot of anxiety around accidentally harming people with my work, so finding such a wealth of references, opinions, resources, and discussion is very valuable to me. It gives me the confidence I need to move forward knowing that I won't get everything right, but I can avoid what I know to be harmful.

I do have a question, sorry for taking so long to get to it. I want to write a story featuring a physically disabled character from at least a semi-accurate historical lens (specifically 19th century England), but I don't want to rely on notoriously ableist doctor's accounts. That's potentially useful for understanding how the medical field understood various disabilities and the social attitudes surrounding them, but I want to know more about the day-to-day lives of actual disabled people before modern medicine/research, especially those who may not have had access to hospitals. My intent is this- I want to understand my character and her disability from a modern perspective, but within the time frame I know this character would not have access to the same information and so would approach her life differently than a person today with the same disabilities would. Do you know of any particular historians or research organizations that might have that kind of information? I apologize for the broad scope of the question, but I am very lost on where to actually start looking and any help would be greatly appreciated.

Thank you for taking the time to read this ask, and for all the work you do in general, have a great day!

Hi,

Thank you for your thoughtful question.

I'll start of with the fact that disability history is painfully under-researched, particularly the further back in time you go.

Part of this is modern ableism, part of it is ableism from the past, part of this is scattered understanding of conditions in the past, part of it is that a decent number of disabilities need treatment for survival, and part of this is simply a lack of sources. There's other factors, of course, but these are all pretty relevant.

If I'm honest, I generally do my historical research in very sort of piecemeal ways and I get bits and pieces from various sources that I often lose years later, which I recommend to no one lol.

I usually end up reading scientific/historical modern articles that I go to like the third page of google to find, or try my best to find a period piece that will show me a sense of how a person with a certain condition could be treated,

However, let me point you towards some organizations that might help:

This is a page from Historic England that has a general history of disability from 1050 onwards. It's categorized in general time periods, starting with 11th-14th century and ending in the modern times. I like this resource and have used it often, and it's pretty accessible and easy to read since it's made for the general public as opposed to for researchers and historians. Historic England also has further Inclusive research, if you're interested.

The US's National Parks Service (unlikely source, I know) has a project named Telling All Americans' Stories, and has a section for disability history right here. It has a general overview, a section for places, a section for people, a section for education, and one for Franklin Delano Roosevelt's experience and impact re: polio and resulting disability. Of course, this source has more things connected to the national parks, given who is doing the research, but I still find it a pretty good source to start off with. It's also quite accessible since it's aimed at the general public and not historians or researchers.

The Minnesota State Government has a "Governor's Council on Developmental Disabilities," and this council has a general history of developmental disabilities resource right here. It's divided into pre-1950 and post-1950, but it covers a lot of ground while being pretty accessible. It's a pretty cool resource, actually. I'm pretty sure I've found relevant photographs here.

The Disability History Association was established in 2004 has a podcast and is focused on specificlly funding research of disabilities. They have a page right here with a list of recent books and articles about disability history. These are all 2016 to present and all seem to be English language. It also lists two upcoming research publications that are in progress. I haven't specifically used this for my research, but I recognize some of the articles it refers to on that second page I linked. It's entirely possible I've been on this site before without remembering, though.

All Of Us is a blog by the above DHA which seems to have multiple contributors. This one I have not used.

Inclusive Historian has a resource here on a sort of general disability history, and is aimed more towards historians themselves to use to write more effectively. I also see this as a potential tool for fiction writers, as it can be useful when it comes to combining historical accuracy (to whatever degree you want it in your fiction) with modern sensitivities for modern audiences.

Disability Social History project is a self-named newer project aiming to collect historical information about disability and disabled people. It has a resources page here as well.

The Missouri History Museum has a legacy website called Action for Access with a focus on the history of the disability rights movement. This is a narrower focus and earlier than the time period you're going to write about, but it has pictures to browse. I have not found a modern equivalent of this website. Be aware that this website might not fit accessibility standards more common today because it's a legacy website.

Anyway, sorry that this seems so broad and maybe less specific than you'd like — I still hope it helps you and anyone else needing a jumping off point to research.

– mod sparrow

[irisbleufic]

The shade you’re throwing @ intersexist assholes in the tags on the IWTV story you finished today have me crying with laughter and also applauding, but I also feel mad on your behalf that something probably brought that on. Was someone a dick to you? It’s been a bad year for what y’all in the intersex community have had to put up with what with the Olympics, I can imagine :|

Hey, much appreciated, anon 💙 It has been a bad year for that, yeah. I’m not so much bent out of shape as annoyed about something that’s potentially intersexist in tone (see under the cut, where I try to pick it apart a bit) that I saw a while ago when I looked through the notes people have left on series-level Caldera bookmarks.

I sometimes forget that people leave annotations for themselves and others, and one in particular sort of made me blink and wonder who the fuck else might be reading and making themselves miserable by sticking around and reading content they could have so easily avoided and, you know, not bothered to bookmark? IDK, man, why not just bookmark the single story or stories you liked early on rather than bookmark the whole series to bitch about something the writer is examining at the intersection of gender identity and biological sex variations (especially when that’s something the writer reckoned with over time themself, and which plenty of other intersex people reckon with, too). Anyway, the weird AF note in question:

Like, I mean���okay? Thanks? Glad you liked a bunch of it, whatever that means, but gender identity and biological sex variations are running themes for half or more of stories in the series at this point, and not just for Armand (there are three characters for whom this is relevant, one of whom is canonically intersex in the novels, but whose portrayal has never quite sat well with me given the similarities to how intersex athletes are treated in the media—Petronia from Blackwood Farm; any other treatment of her/his/their monstrosity would’ve been brilliant, because, you know, fucking vampires, but it definitely crosses a line that plays into an awful stereotype). Getting back to Armand, though, the last sentence of this note is hilarious to me. In my stories, he doesn’t even change the pronouns he’s using even if, armed with new knowledge about himself, he’s also acknowledging a level of gender fluidity that he might not have been comfortable explicitly articulating and fully exploring before. I have a soft spot for writing about genderfluid/nonbinary characters who use he/him pronouns alongside the other ones I write about who tend to use they/them pronouns. There’s a relative lack of he/him gender-nonconforming characters in fiction, in my experience, so I have a few of those running around in fic across my fandoms. Given the fact that Armand’s pronouns haven’t changed here, this reader could pretty easily have just ignored everything else. I don’t even think Armand as I’m writing him is terribly offended by anyone who still calls him a man on days where he’s more masculine-presenting in the way he dresses, and there are still plenty of those. The bookmark comment feels sillier and sillier the more I dig into it through the lens of close reading my own text, and the discomfort feels a lot more like it’s down to the intersex theme than the gender identity theme even though the two are connected in the narrative.

If you find the existence of intersex people trying to work out their gender identity in fiction triggering, I regret to inform you that this is something that happens all the time in real life. And that you might hear about it, because we do talk about it. So, pro tip: heed the fic tags and consider not bitching about it where the author is going to see that and then just double down on being a thorn in your side, and anyone else’s who thinks like you, by writing even more about it.

[radioactive-earthshine]

im having a great time with Pluto despite not having seen much astro boy (been aware of it obviously just never sought it out) what would you recommend for someone to watch/read after pluto from the astro boy franchise that is similar in tone and content?

Oh boy oh BOY!

If the Pluto anime is your introduction into the Astro Boy franchise then you've been thoroughly acclimated to the most fervent reoccurring themes found within Tezuka's writings and as such a lot of the tone and story telling will be very similar - even if Pluto was written by Naoki Urasawa and not Tezuka himself.

What I personally would suggest for those curious about learning more about Astro Boy and this particular story is to read the Pluto manga (8 volumes) as an accompaniment - the anime is a very good adaptation but some things had to be cut for time (it's inevitable) and the manga was simply better at revealing some things than the anime to give you a broader sense of place that this world takes place in.

From there you have many options before you depending on your accessibility to some of the series below.

NOTE: There is nothing quite like Pluto other than Pluto, but in all versions of Astro Boy you will find the same themes and content found within Pluto but with a different narrative voice.

For the sake of simplicity I am not getting into the bigger Tezuka Star System I'm just focusing on Atom in the most direct way - no this is not meant to be a full complete list of EVERYTHING.

The 1950s Manga

Written by Tezuka himself, where it all started.

Contains all of the original core stories of Tetsuwan Atom (Astro Boy) which were adapted in various media.

Is available in English to purchase and is online.... in places...

Can get shockingly dark and gruesome and I do not have the spoons to list all the Content Warnings possible. Adults will find enjoyment from this series.

Is generally episodic.

Classic golden age sci-fi with themes relevant today still.

The 1960s Anime

Written and worked on by Tezuka himself.

Contains many of the core stories presented in the manga adapted to fit a single episode.

Episodic.

The first two years (104 episode out of 193) are available in English to purchase on DVD (with extras!) - I do not know if the 'missing 89' are available online with subs or if the original Japanese is available with subs out there.

Yes, inevitably the dubs sanitized a lot of the stories and Americanized them - but even so they are worth a watch.

The 1980s Anime

Also written and worked on by Tezuka himself.

Is available in English to purchase, but like the 60s dub, it has been cropped, chopped, and censored - in some ways worse than the 60s series. The DVDs at least do have the Japanese track with subs available.

You can find the 80s Japanese unedited online with subs.

Is mostly episodic but does have a subplot featuring a new character Atlas and his sister Levian.

Contains some of the core stories from the manga but this series is much shorter so some of your favorites might have been dropped.

The 2003 Anime

Tezuka did not work on this series as he was deceased at time of production.

Modern Astro Boy with a more modern lens and modern story-telling expected of anime of the time.

Contains a plot and contains the episodic spirit of the original shows and manga, but the plot is still referenced in modern anime story telling. The main plots being 1.) robot rights being established in a world where they have none despite having "kokoro" (heart) which is basically free will and sentience and 2.) who is that boy anyway?

Many of the most beloved Astro Boy stories from the manga are not present in this series.

American voices dictated the direction of this series from the start even in the original Japanese which is a big negative.

The English dub is heavily censored and altered from the original version - but it contains some amazing performances from people like Dorian Harewood whom I still to this day don't know HOW he agreed to play Dr. Tenma but my god he did an amazing job.

The unedited subbed Japanese version can be found online.

Despite the amount of butchering and meddling during production it is still a relevant part of the Astro Boy collective world.

Naoki Urasawa's Pluto Manga and Anime

You already know of this adaptation but it's a retelling of The World's Greatest Robot, the classic story from the manga and is present in all of the above series. It is also direct commentary about the American invasion of Iraq with some names changed so as to not hurt feelings. I generally suggest to adults to read this and if it connects with them then try on the original manga and maybe see if any of the anime gets their eye too.

A note on Tezuka and his extended works.

An American equivalent to him would be Jack Kirby however he had more creative control with his work, was credited for his creations, and had just about the same amount of influence on Japanese comics as Jack Kirby did with American comics (maybe even to a greater extent). Tezuka was incredibly prolific and is dubbed "The God of Manga" for a reason. Many of his stories all circle around the same themes; war, grief, the futility of hatred and the doom of mankind while also taking on blatant political sides including environmentalism, equal rights, gender rights and even playing with gender and expression (note they are products of their time and some of which are offensive today but for the time were groundbreaking).

If you wanted specific stories from the manga that might be more what you are looking for to refine your search, let me know! I've been needing an excuse to drag them out.

[homestuckreplay]

If WV And PM Have No Fans I Must Be Dead

(page 1032-1039)

The mirroring of Jade (Prospit; dreaming) and Jade (Earth; robot) has been expanded to also mirror PM (Earth; years in the future) and PM??? (Prospit; now) with more identically-composed panels. It is actually a really smooth transition, and I do think that having time to sit between updates makes it easy to keep track of different versions of the same character, where and when they are, and how they can interact. I’ve seen in forum threads that some people have blasted through the first 1000 pages in a day as they discover the story which must feel like a very steep and confusing learning curve (even if it’s technically more accurate for representing the kids’ story, which for them is still a single day).

The imps in John’s house all look similar enough that this could be a fakeout, and this Prospit white chess piece is not PM, but they have the same build and eyes (see above from pages 723, 844 and 1033). Whether or not this is PM, I love their design. The blue/green stripes hippie two piece with matching hat feels like something I would see on a middle aged woman at a music festival who turns out to be the loveliest person I’ve ever met. But back in Homestuck the angle on page 1033 makes it look like PM(?) has boobs which, cmon, they are a bug/chess piece and I’ve never seen a busty chess piece and this is the laziest possible way to indicate a character is female.

I really do love these futuretime folks like WV and PM, I think their story is so interesting. They’re aliens, they’re bugs, they’re chess pieces, they’re video game NPCs, they’re time travelers, they’re irresolute wanderers through the wasteland, they’re the fabric of freedom and democracy and they’re carrying out the orders of a mysterious thirteen year old girl from a different species who lived centuries ago. That’s fascinating, and all their quirks and strangenesses put them in contrast to the kids who – while pretty weird themselves – are fundamentally just humans on the internet, and so are more grounded much easier to relate to then WV and PM.

I don’t know if they are fulfilling time loops or trying to actively change the past, but they seem naturally drawn towards these bunkers, like they instinctively still interface with the video game world after leaving it.

The narrator also talks directly to WV again on page 1036, something they did a lot while WV was commanding John in Act 2 (p.258, for example), though this hasn’t really happened with PM (yet). In fact it better parallels Jade, the character who most often speaks to the player. Today she actually tries to command WV, using several ==> commands in her note – I wonder if he is programmed to respond to these in any context, not just via computer terminal.

But for real, it must be so hard for WV not to eat those tasty greentext envelopes Jade has made him. And Jade absolutely called this right down to the position of the clouds and the fact that PM would be wearing the postal hat. (I guess Jade doesn’t need to feel guilty about causing the bunker to explode if she knows PM will survive, and that has interesting implications for her perspective, if she thinks it’s okay to cause harm in the moment because she definitively knows it won’t have a major, long term impact). But her predictions are eerily specific, not only in their detail, but also in her knowing exactly what guidance WV (Mister Mayor!!) will need to carry out this plan. Her ‘the freedom of your people depends on it’ is a really good way to manipulate WV, as I’m sure she knows he would never neglect his critical mayoral business no matter how tasty the letter is.

So, there’s going to be an important gift exchange, and it might be relevant that this page drops six days before Christmas. These two were on different sides of the Prospit vs Ominous Planet war, but the hearts and spirit of giving in the note suggest a peaceful exchange, two sides transcending a former antagonism. PM reaching for their sword on page 1039 isn’t a good sign, but I’m sure that as soon as they see the mail, the critical mail business will take precedence.

A more dangerous antagonism comes from the mysterious Aimless Renegade, whose gun remains pointed at the other two. I don’t think either WV or PM has noticed them yet. More importantly, has Jade seen them? They’re not mentioned – or warned about – in Jade’s note, and so could be somehow invisible to her powers. This isn’t unheard of; Jade has ‘never had any sort of feeling about [the trolls] or what they want’ (p.1000) and says that ‘if [Bec] wants to be found, he will find [her]’ (p.942), so the trolls and Bec both have some defenses against her. AR could be associated with either the trolls or Bec, or immune for a secret third reason.

Either way, I’m nervous. I like this beautiful WV-PM friendship predicted by Jade’s note, and I don’t want either of them to get blasted with an assault rifle. So whether or not this element has been accounted for by Jade, I’m hoping for some sort of holiday miracle.

> PM: Draw sword; look upwards.