#or the intentionally is intentionally made in bad-faith

[bearofohu]

sorry for doing this again but how are ppl seriously claiming that rin and haru werent written with the subtext of having any romantic tension……… what the fuck do you think the association with sakura trees means in japan???? the power of friendship??? commodore between men?? it means gay sex fall in love. like come the fuck on

[221buckythesoldier]

jayce and vi haters to me are like coworkers who inexplicably have one-sided beef with you

[autisticrosewilson]

"Oh Steph wouldn't like Jason just because they have similar backgrounds because he kills people/is a criminal/fights the bats!!"

This is in the 90's BEFORE he even tortured her. She doesn't go through with it, but she sees the evil he's capable of and its enough for her to justify it. She only doesn't because it "goes against what Batman taught her" but well.

That's the same man who would let her dad's friends infest her house for MONTHS until BLACK CANARY came to Gotham and handled it

A grown man who would go on to verbally degrade her, withhold the tools he gave everyone else, keep her intentionally isolated and then use her lack of resources against her.

So yeah. I'm sure Steph's faith in Batman and his teachings have wavered plenty. Just because DC casually discarded the way she was treated so she could play happy family with the boys, but she has NO REASON TO. Before she was aged down there was definite tension between her and Tim, and while Babs worked to get that relationship back, Bruce did no such thing. "Oh I'm just as proud of you as I was with the boys" when he thought she was dying doesn't fucking change how he treated her.

And of course, there's her own forray into betraying the family and being a criminal in The Next Batman series.

That's without getting into how she was compared to Jason, the way she watched a murdered east end kid be toted as another violent, reckless, idiot who didn't think and got himself killed.

"Oh but he tried to kill Tim!" First of all, you didn't read that comic. Jason was TESTING him, they were 2 years apart MAXIMUM, and Tim FOUGHT BACK. Jason gave him a little cut and a nose bleed that he slapped a bandage on and was fine. Damian also started his first meeting with Tim antagonistically and even though he was actively hostile to her, Steph still formed a close sibling bond. Her first meeting with Tim she threw a brick at him. He spent a not significant amount of time belittling her and telling her she wasn't cut out for hero work when she came back. This is the same guy who hallucinated Jason just so Jason could be like "Oh I got myself killed don't be like me!" Can we be real she doesn't give a shit. I guess you could count Hush but. I know they retconned it so that was Jason but when the fuck would he have had the time to do that between death, catanoia, the All-caste, and his murder tour.

Stephanie understands better than anyone that desperate circumstances lead to desperate people who do bad things. Stephanie understands being belittled and compared to a rich white boy who never had to fight to survive like you did. She understands being isolated from the hero community. She understands the evil that exists and the ways the system is corrupt, and that the bad guy never STAYS caught. And it's not like she has any big problem with people who kill, Babs said in 90's she would fucking LOVE Joker to drop dead and Dinah has killed multiple times. She literally switched places with Lady Shiva? These are both women Steph looks up to. You don't think Steph would feel any admiration at all for someone who gave Bruce a taste of what it feels like to be shown up? Someone who made Roman's life hell? Someone who made Tim put action behind his shit talking? An alley kid who came back and refused to be another statistic, who showed everyone who spent the last decade calling him stupid and reckless EXACTLY how cunning he can be? None? At all?

I just find it a little hard to believe.

[eeldritchblast]

Some misc. Wyll facts I collected while browsing his dialogue files like a madman

If Wyll dies and you ask his corpse what is ultimate goal is, his response is "Freedom from Mizora".

Wyll's mother died when he was born. Growing up, he was so close with his father that he never felt like he needed anyone else, but as an adult, he's questioned what it might have been like had she lived.

Wyll does not consider himself a man of faith - in fact, he resents "the so-called good gods for tolerating the curelty of the evil" - but rather believes "the faith that matters is that which you hold in yourself, in the ones that most matter to you."

More than one devnote reveals Wyll intentionally tries to downplay his emotions. Example: "Not too sad outwardly even though he is."

Wyll's father trained him how to use a rapier, sword, and bow.

Wyll uses "a light spritz from a vial of jasmine dust" as perfume.

Wyll considered dukes to be hypocritcal for their diplomacy with bad people.

When Wyll was a young boy, he was smitten by Stelmane.

When Wyll was eight, he snuck into the Counting House to see if the rumours of mythical treasure it held were true. The guard spotted him and took him straight back to his father.

When Wyll was fourteen, he had his first alcoholic beverage, and got so tipsy from wine that he puked in Dillard Portyr's bushes.

Wyll had his first kiss in The Blushing Mermaid when he was fifteen.

Wyll claims he's spent some time in the Underdark in his adventures as the Blade.

Wyll says he's killed a vampire-spawn before, when Player!Astarion confesses he's one himself.

Wyll claims his toughest kill was a minotaur, and one of his scars is from the battle.

Seven years prior to the game, he made his pact with Mizora to defeat the Cult of the Dragon, and was disowned and exiled from Baldur's Gate by his father. He was seventeen at the time.

Five years prior to the game, he took on the mantle of the Blade of Frontiers, after rescuing a child from a band of goblin attackers near the Cloakwood.

Karlach calls Wyll her best friend.

[akajustmerry]

not sure how to say this without it being misconstrued but I as a Lebanese person who's family has fought against Zionism, and as a bonafide movie enjoyer do not know how to discuss the increase in Hollywood films (The Brutalist, A Real Pain, September 5, Lee, Emilia Perez, etc) centering Israel and the Holocaust. I do not know how to discuss that these films will be used in one way or another (intentionally or not) to manufacture consent for the US Backed Zionist genocide of Palestinians in Palestine. I don't know how to voice criticism of how the influence of military funding in Hollywood shapes patterns in which films are made and awarded that ultimately align with foreign policy - WITHOUT that criticism being dismissed antisemitic, or conspiratorial. I'm not saying at all that these films aren't important stories, or are without artistic integrity because I don't think that. It's just......again, I do not know how to say this without it being misconstrued in bad faith. I was born in the mid-90s. I grew up on post 9/11 media. I know what US-made, Hollywood-produced soft propaganda looks like and it looks like a lot of film and television being greenlit and celebrated that also happens to align with and even justify the USA's imperialist foreign policy.

[linkcharacter]

Really like the recent analysis. I know I speak of curly in a more defensive way than most but I generally try to get the point you made across at the end of the day with my analyses on him and his behaviors.

People love to lock analyses around Curly solely based on what he could’ve done as a physical action and have this avoidance to acknowledging the realistic barriers at play when it comes to those solutions. It’s. The game tries to treat the pre-crash section as if they are grounded in social and organizational realities. So the what if he did this questions about the situation always fall short when the real answer is he either couldn’t or it wasn’t an actual viable option. But then when they talk about what he actually did do it’s surrounded by such bad faith interpretations that his actions were completely intentional or still not affected by outside sources. He’s a very much “road to hell is paved with good intentions” character. He cared too much and that’s a big part of his problem.

There’s such a “perfect victim or nothing” mindset in the fandom where people can’t admit that there are no such things as perfect victims but that also shouldn’t mean that even if there were it would absolve them of the mistakes they made. People want to moralize every action of every character that they don’t realize that some actions are done without any specific morale factor. People just do things, like you said. People assumed failed intentions immediately flip the thought process behind them “he meant to do good but bad happened, he must be bad” and that just is not how people work. It’s how perceptions work but only of the observer.

It’s such a sensitive topic because, yes, you are supposed to be frustrated, even mad, at what Curly didn’t do, but you have to acknowledge the fact these were good intentioned acts even if that good intent did jack squat in the end. That his responses are human and it’s supposed to be uncomfortable and hurt that they were realistic faults of his.

He enabled his friend and it ended bad for everyone including him. No one really tries to argue this fact but everyone seems to think it has to be tied to the morale dilemma and not certain human natures and social factors.

This is all to ask, why do you personally lean towards thinking Curly wouldn’t turn Jimmy in? Are you speaking in the short term of realizing how bad he got or long-term/overall? I feel like he could but it would not be easy and no matter the necessity he’d always have this guilt at feeling bad for doing it.

Ah yes Curly the most imperfect human man character.

Yep yep yep absolutely, people love to assign morality onto characters and call them good or bad and diminishing the depth and nuance of Mouthwashing, filling discussions with bad-faith interpretations or speculating on inconcrete understandings of the incomplete, intentionally vague, context. I adore Mouthwashing to no end for having this oppressive suffocating and constant atmosphere surrounding everything in the game. Really shows off that the environment festers, no one well-meaning guy could create a happy ending with individual actions alone because it's all systematic.

To elaborate from your question tho, at the point Curly was in (if Anya wasn't pregnant scenario), definitely no don't think so (would depend on Anya a too on whether or not she would go to the authorities outside). Curly knew Jimmy was a danger, and I do believe that subconsciously Anya's report to him on Jimmy gnaws at him, but not vividly enough. I want to point out a moment where Anya tells him about the pregnancy, he begins asking "Who would you-", then he's nudged by Anya that she told him and he should know who it is, and he does, instantly saying he's known him a long time and will talk to him. That moment of, for a second not connecting that Jimmy is the assaulter responsible just makes me drag my palm across my face for how much of a man (derogatory) Curly acted like for one dialogue line. Like he just 'forgot' for a brief moment that Jimmy harassed Anya prior? Granted, he instantly believes and takes Anya seriously, immediately dropping the search for the gun he was on in that scene, realizing the severity of the situation and of Jimmy. We also don't know what Anya has told him specifically, how long ago it happened, etc. but the 'implications' of the scene make me believe Jimmy's known sexual harassment on the ship slipped Curly's mind due to him being more invested in "the bigger picture" of Jimmy, not latching onto a harmful and a very serious fucking trivia fact about Jimmy because of his perception of who his friend is as a whole (and with his foggy sleep-deprived mind at the moment), 'losing a needle in a haystack' with how much unknown history Curly and Jimmy shared, so to say.

Maaaybe in some other circumstances, like if Jimmy didn't crash the ship or smth long term I could see him doing it, it would take a lot effort like you said, no matter the necessity. We will never know. If we're going into speculation and imaginary scenarios though, if Anya HERSELF were to try and get justice, Curly would be backing her up undoubtedly (still not disconnecting himself from Jimmy though and feeling guilt on his behalf). But that's all suppositions from my reading of the characters.

[koiukiy-o]

orphic; (adj.) mysterious and entrancing, beyond ordinary understanding. ─── 006. the phenomenologist.

-> summary: when you, a final-year student at the grove, get assigned to study under anaxagoras—one of the legendary seven sages—you know things are about to get interesting. but as the weeks go by, the line between correlation and causation starts to blur, and the more time you spend with professor anaxagoras, the more drawn to him you become in ways you never expected. the rules of the academy are clear, and the risks are an unfortunate possibility, but curiosity is a dangerous thing. and maybe, just maybe, some risks are worth taking. after all, isn’t every great discovery just a leap of faith? -> pairing: anaxa x gn!reader. -> tropes: professor x student, slow burn, forbidden romance. -> wc: 4.4k -> warnings: potential hsr spoilers from TB mission: "Light Slips the Gate, Shadow Greets the Throne" (3.1 update). main character is written to be 21+ years of age, at the very least. (anaxa is written to be around 26-27 years of age.) swearing, mature themes, suggestive content.

-> a/n: they exchange emails. i repeat. they exchange. emails!!! potential double update because the next part is 80% finished, hehe <3 i also wrote this chapter when i was on painkillers (and i still man) so if i sound like a DUMBASS in some parts i. it was not on purpose i swear. -> prev. || next. -> orphic; the masterlist.

Lunchtime rush has taken over the cafeteria. You sit tucked into a corner with Kira and Ilias, your tray pushed halfway aside, your drink sweating onto the wood between you.

Kira’s been nursing her tea for the past ten minutes, eyes half-closed, listening more than speaking. Her food sits untouched. Ilias, meanwhile, is attacking his fries like they insulted his ancestors. There’s a kind of intensity to it—surgical, almost reverent.

“Did they change the oil in these?” he mutters. “They taste like shit.”

You glance at him. “Then stop eating them?”

“Don’t tell me how to process pain.”

Kira snorts.

A clatter near the door draws your attention—trays, muffled apologies, the scuffle of shoes against tile. You glance over. Mydei and Phainon stand just inside, scanning the crowded room with the mild disappointment of people who’ve made peace with the fact that they’re not going to find a quiet spot.

There are no empty tables left.

Mydei catches your eye first. His gaze holds yours, half a question in it. Before you can think better of it, you lift your hand slightly in a wave and gesture to the open space on the bench beside you.

“There’s space here,” you say.

Phainon perks up like a dog hearing its leash jingle. He nudges Mydei forward with the edge of his tray, clearly done pretending to be patient.

“You’re sure?” Mydei asks, already sliding toward the end of the bench without waiting for a response.

Kira shifts slightly to make room, offering Mydei a small smile. “You’re not usually out here.”

You glance between them. “You guys know each other?”

“We share a class,” Phainon says, almost too quickly. “Philosophy.”

“Oh,” you say. “That sounds… interesting.” 

Kira stifles a laugh, shrugging. “It’s not that bad. Once you get past the dread.”

“We had to spend an entire week arguing whether perception is a primary act or a constructed one,” Mydei adds, glancing up. “Phainon wrote his midterms in poetic verse.”

“He rhymed ‘intentionality’ with ‘banality,’” Kira says.

“And you gave it a B,” he points out.

“She peer-reviewed it,” Mydei says, jerking her chin toward Kira.

You blink. “Wait—students grade each other?”

Kira nods, twirling the packet between her fingers. “Sometimes. It’s part of the methodology. Subjectivity and all that.”

“That sounds fake.”

“No, ontology sounds fake,” Phainon says without missing a beat.

“They sit behind me,” Kira says, “and keep having whispered debates over whether Merleau-Ponty would’ve survived group work.”

“He wouldn’t have,” Phainon says, solemn.

Mydei picks at the corner of his sandwich. “He might’ve thrived.”

You raise an eyebrow. “And you don’t mind them talking behind you?”

Kira shrugs. “I correct them when they’re wrong.”

“He finds it sport,” Mydei murmurs, flicking his straw wrapper at Phainon.

“I would die for neither of them,” Kira adds after a moment, “but I would cite them.”

“High praise,” Phainon murmurs, looking genuinely touched.

There’s a beat of quiet, the kind that usually signals someone’s about to break into a joke—except Ilias doesn’t. He’s staring at Kira like she’s hung up the moon, eyes soft, brow faintly furrowed in something like awe. 

You glance at him, then back at her. She’s busy poking at the ice in her drink, oblivious.

“Oh my god,” you mutter under your breath, just loud enough for him to hear. “You’re hypnotized.”

“I am not,” he says, way too quickly.

You raise an eyebrow.

“I’m… admiring her academic rigor,” he adds weakly.

“Is that what we’re calling it?” 

Ilias groans and hides behind the menu. Kira, still completely unaware, crunches a piece of ice and asks if anyone wants to split dessert.

You're about to say yes, please, when a shadow falls across the table.

A flicker of awareness down your spine. Some instinctive ripple that tenses your shoulders before your mind even catches up.

You feel it before you see him.

Your head turns—too fast, on reflex. Eyes already landing on the figure passing between tables.

Professor Anaxagoras.

Your heart kicks once, too high in your chest. He’s not in his usual long coat. His sleeves are rolled to the elbow, collar slightly open, and the book in his arm looks worn at the edges. The woman walking beside him—elegant, composed, and unknown to you—matches his stride like they’ve been walking in step for years.

She moves like a dream you only half-remember—gliding by his side, wrapped in soft earth-toned fabric that shimmers faintly when the light catches it, like morning mist through tree branches. Her voice, low and melodic, curls around her shoulders, spilling down her back in lazy waves, pinned with something that’s shaped suspiciously like gold-tipped antlers, and her scent—something like old paper and wildflowers—lingers long after she’s gone. There’s a stillness to her, a gravity that pulls your attention without ever asking for it. She doesn’t need to raise her voice or call for silence—she could just look up, and the room would fall into reverent hush. And when her mouth moves, you almost forget that she—

Ilias lets out a low whistle under his breath, not loud, but pointed. “Damn.” Kira glares at him.

You don’t respond. Can’t, for a moment.

Anaxagoras walks past without pausing, the conversation between him and the woman low and self-contained. You catch a word or two—nothing sharp, nothing you could hold on to. 

“Who was that?” Kira murmurs, eyes still following their backs.

Phainon, who hadn’t seemed particularly alert, straightens faintly. “Cerces,” he says, tone low but certain. “She used to guest lecture. Phenomenology.”

Mydei doesn’t look up. “She was supposed to take a position here last year. Didn’t.”

It starts like a pinprick, something almost too small to name. 

You glance toward the table where they’ve just sat—tucked near the back, partially shielded by a wooden column. 

She’s speaking, but her tone is too quiet, and Anaxagoras doesn’t look like he’s listening, so much as… enduring.

A slight shifting in your chest, a tensing in your jaw. Your gaze drifts—too often, too long—toward the corner table where Anaxagoras sits with her. Cerces.

Kira murmurs. “Are they… friends?”

“Not unless you count hostility as a form of bonding,” Mydei says without looking up.

“They hate each other?” Ilias asks.

“They disagree on principle,” Mydei replies. “She called his lecture on spatial memory ‘a diluted myth disguised as hypothesis’ once.” 

Phainon lifts his head slightly, blinking at the table. “Is that not flirting?”

You give him a look. 

Ilias snorts at your reaction.

Phainon shrugs, resting his head on his arms again. “Just saying.”

Anaxagoras isn’t smiling. Cerces never does, apparently. 

You glance back over to the corner booth, where Anaxagoras and Cerces are still sitting, barely exchanging words but clearly in some sort of intense standoff. She speaks with measured precision, and Anaxagoras listens—almost too intently.

Like he’s hanging on her every word.

For some reason, you can’t stop looking. You’re not sure why, but something about it bothers you. Anaxagoras, as unreachable as he is, sitting with someone else like that—it doesn’t sit well.

(Why doesn’t it sit well?)

You don’t even notice how your gaze hardens until Ilias speaks up.

“I thought you were the only one he bantered with,” he says suggestively, though there’s a sharp edge to his voice. It’s off-hand, but the tone feels pointed.

You snap your attention back to him, eyes flicking to Ilias, then to Kira, and finally to Mydei, who’s still half-focused on his andwich. It’s not what he says—it’s how it feels, like he’s digging his finger into a gaping wound in your chest.

“What?” you say, the word coming out a little more defensive than you’d like. "What do you mean?"

Ilias raises an eyebrow, eyes gleaming with a bit of mischief, but he looks like he’s holding back a comment. “Oh, nothing. Just that—well, I thought it was kind of your thing with him, y’know?”

Logically, of course, it’s not just you. It never was. Anaxagoras is a professor, and a professional one at that. He interacts with plenty of people. You were never the only one. But why does it bother you so much now? Why does seeing him there with Cerces feel like something you were supposed to have? Hell, you’ve only been his student for a couple weeks.

Then, from behind you, Phainon’s voice breaks the silence, casually chiming in. “You know, you and Anaxagoras would be a good match.”

Your head snaps around to him, eyes wide, caught completely off guard. You try to catch your breath, but your heart suddenly seems to be beating a little too fast. What did he mean by that? The words feel heavy in your chest, but you can’t quite explain why. You shake your head, trying to brush it off, but you can’t stop the small pang of unease that bubbles up.

Mydei, sitting beside Phainon, glances at him sharply, narrowing his eyes, but the clueless guy keeps munching on his food, completely unaware. 

Ilias brightens. “That’s what I’ve been saying!” 

Kira, meanwhile, shifts in her seat, a thoughtful smirk pulling at the corners of her lips. “I can see it, actually,” she says, leaning toward you and giving you a look that’s half-encouraging, half-teasing. “You two would have that whole academic rivalry thing going on. Very couple energy.”

Her smirk grows as she watches you react. The comment is light, but you can feel the sting of it.

And of course, Ilias adds to it. His grin is too wide, too knowing. “Late-night debates and discussions on the meaning of the universe... sounds like a dream weekend to me.”

Your pulse picks up speed at the thought, and suddenly, you’re on edge, wondering why this is even a thing now. Your mind races with thoughts that you can’t quiet: why is it bothering you? Why is it bothering you this much?

Is it bothering you? 

You shift in your seat, trying to keep your face neutral, but the flush creeping up your neck betrays you. “It’s not like that,” you mutter, your words defensive, even to your own ears. You don’t know why you feel so worked up.

Ilias notices the shift in your tone, the subtle defensiveness in your voice. His grin widens, and he leans forward, clearly enjoying the discomfort he’s stirred up.

You’re too aware of the heat rising in your face. “I’m not—” you snap, perhaps a little too sharply. “You’re being illogical. We’re students, he’s a professor. Our professor. And he’s not even my type—”

Ilias, clearly enjoying this, leans back in his seat with a dramatic flourish, one hand raised as if making a grand announcement. “You know,” he says, his voice dropping to a near-whisper, “I think I’ve figured it out.”

You glance at him, raising an eyebrow. “Figured what out?”

“You.” He pauses, letting the words hang in the air for just a moment, before leaning in closer, his grin mischievous. “I don’t think it’s Professor Anaxagoras himself. Oh no, no, no. You’ve fallen victim to something far worse.”

You cross your arms, giving him an exasperated look, but choosing to play along. “And that is?”

“You’ve fallen for his mind,” Ilias says, lowering his voice as if he’s revealing some deep, untold secret. “That black hole of academia. The more you resist, the more it pulls you in. You, my friend, are powerless against the seductive pull of his— of his lectures!” He pauses for dramatic effect, letting the silence linger. “It’s inevitable. You’re already caught in his gravitational field.”

You roll your eyes, trying to keep a straight face, but it’s hard when he looks so pleased with himself. “Ilias, you really need to stop watching sci-fi movies. You’re starting to sound like—”

He ignores you, continuing on in full dramatic flair. “I’m telling you, it’s like you’re destined for this. Like some tragic hero—fated to fall for the untouchable professor.”

You squint at him. “Ilias—”

“Star-crossed lovers, of course that’s what you are.” He raises his hand dramatically, as if making a proclamation. “The one who must suffer in silence, tortured by their own growing attraction while the object of their affection remains completely oblivious!”

You stare at him, half-annoyed, half-amused. “Okay, Romeo, calm down. I’m not falling for anyone, especially not Anaxagoras. He’s our professor.”

“Oh, please,” Ilias scoffs, flipping his fries around on his plate. “That’s the classic denial phase. It’s always like this. First, it’s ‘He’s a professor, this isn’t real,’ and then it’s ‘Oh no, I’m just interested in his intellectual prowess.’ And the next thing you know, you’re writing him anonymous love ;letters about the meaning of life.”

You choke on your drink. “What?!”

Ilias leans back smugly, clearly relishing your reaction. “That’s the part I’m really looking forward to,” he says, completely unbothered by the chaos he’s creating. “The dramatic confessions of forbidden love. You’ll be at the front of the lecture hall, staring at him with those eyes—the ones you don’t even realize you’re doing—until one day, you slip and—bam!—an accidental ‘—Because I love you!’ in the middle of a class discussion.”

You nearly spit your drink out at the absurdity of it all. “Oh my God, Ilias, shut up. That is not—”

“Oh, it will happen,” he says confidently, nodding like he’s just cracked the code of your life. “I can see it now. ‘Professor Anaxagoras, I can’t live without your...philosophical insights...’"

Your face burns even more now, and you throw a napkin at him. “You are insufferable.”

Ilias catches it mid-air and theatrically wipes his brow, pretending to be exhausted by the sheer drama of his own predictions. “Oh, I know. But it’s all part of my genius,” he says smugly. “You’ll thank me when you end up in a tangled, academic love triangle involving forgotten artifacts and ancient texts.”

You roll your eyes, trying not to smile. “Not gonna happen.”

“You say that now,” he says with a smirk. “But I’ll be here when it all goes down. You’ll come crawling to me for advice on how to handle the tension.”

You eyes automatically glance over at the table where Anaxagoras and Cerces are still sitting, and without meaning to, your stomach tightens just a little. 

Ilias notices the shift in your expression immediately, his grin widening again. “Oh! What’s this? A little moment of clarity? I can feel it! Your heart’s racing, isn’t it?”

“No,” you mutter, looking away quickly, but the playful glint in his eyes makes you want to strangle him.

“You can’t hide it forever, my friend,” he says, tapping his finger against the table. “The romance is coming. The fated love between the professor and the student, like something out of a tragic novel. And when it happens? Oh, I’ll be the first to say ‘I told you so.’”

Kira, who’s been quietly listening to the whole exchange, smiles at Ilias in that quiet, amused way she does. For a moment, her eyes are soft, entranced by his antics.

Ilias doesn’t notice, of course. He’s too busy reveling in the thought of his own brilliance. “And when you’re finally ready to confess, I’ll be there. Right behind you, cheering you on. I’ll be your emotional support coach. Don’t worry.”

You groan, slumping forward. “Please stop.”

“Fine, fine.” Ilias leans back, clearly not done but pretending to be. “But you know the truth, deep down.” He lowers his voice to a whisper again. “You’re already halfway there. And when the sparks fly... don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

You fight to keep the smile off your face, but it’s impossible. “You’re unbelievable.”

Phainon, who’s been slumped halfway over his tray like a cat napping in a sunbeam, lifts his head at last, amused. He says lazily, “Ilias managed to build an entire three-act tragedy in the time it took me to finish my sandwich. I’m surprised.”

“Don’t encourage him,” you say flatly.

Phainon ignores you. “So what’s the title? Ode to a Lecture Hall Affair? Or A Treatise on Yearning, Featuring Poor Life Choices?”

“I like that second one,” Mydei says, without looking up. “Could be a bestseller if it comes with footnotes.”

Ilias snaps his fingers at both of them. “Finally. Some cultured taste.”

“You’re literally projecting an academic romance onto the person least likely to pursue such a thing.” Mydei deadpans, still not looking up.

“That’s how all the best ones start,” Ilias says with a wink. “Tragic self-denial. Emotional repression. That’s the good stuff. You think I want this story to be healthy?”

Phainon tilts his head at you, tone suddenly a little too calm. “So. Do you like Naxie?”

You nearly choke. “What?! No— …N- Naxie?” 

“Mm,” Phainon hums, as if making a mental note, completely ignoring the question in your tone. “That sounded like a lie.”

You sit up straighter, voice too quick. “It’s not a lie. I don’t have feelings for him.”

Ilias finally looks up with a beaming smile. “You only get that loud when you're trying to convince someone, and in this case, it is yourself!” 

“I am not loud,” you snap. “And I am not trying to convince myself of anything. There is nothing to convince myself of.”

“You’re so flustered right now it’s almost poetic,” Ilias says, grinning ear to ear. “Like watching  tower of logic collapse in real time. It’s beautiful.”

Mydei hums thoughtfully. “I wonder what Anaxagoras would say if he heard this.”

You freeze, throwing your head back to look at his table.

 Kira bites back a laugh. Ilias gasps dramatically.

“Oh please,” he says, clutching his chest like he’s just been shot. “If he heard this? He’d probably just blink in ancient Greek and then spend fifteen minutes dissecting the philosophical implications of desire as a failed mode of cognition.”

Phainon wheezes, practically howls at that, “And- and he’d do the thing,” he adds, his voice breathless, “Where he raises an eyebrow and smirks at you and then pauses for exactly four seconds.”

Kira giggles quietly. Ilias points like he’s struck gold, practically screams— “Exactly! The pause! The man weaponizes silence like it’s part of the syllabus.”

As if on cue, from the other side of the room, Anaxagoras shifts slightly in his seat—one subtle glance cast toward your table, recognizing the voice. Not long. Just a flicker of movement, but it’s enough. His eyes land on Ilias—still half-mid-monologue—then slide to you. 

He nods in acknowledgement. 

You nod back.

He smirks.

 And looks away.

Cerces doesn’t glance over. She sits serene and unaffected, like her presence was never meant to interact with the world around her.

You’re too aware of the sharp prickle under your skin. You feel wrecked, utterly wrecked, even after he looks away.

Ilias notices. Of course he does.

Your eyes widen at his face, and you contemplate dragging his drama-ridden soul into the nearest chalk circle and trapping him there with nothing but an introductory ethics textbook and a looping recording of Anaxagoras’ driest lecture on epistemological drift.

Or maybe you'd just pin him to a whiteboard and force him to define “romantic projection” in front of the class while Kira holds up increasingly incriminating flashcards titled Things You’ve Said Out Loud.

 “You’re not even subtle,” you mutter, eyeing him like you’re mentally selecting a power drill.

Ilias grins, unbothered. “Subtlety is for people who don’t have prophetic insight.”

“You’re a menace.”

“I’m a visionary,” he corrects, reaching for another fry with the smugness of someone who just cast a match into a very flammable bush.

You make a low noise, possibly a groan, possibly the sound of his spirit exiting his body. “If you keep talking,” you say without lifting your head, “I will hex your shoes to squeak every third step.”

“I’ll do it,” Mydei says. 

Ilias throws his hands up. “You’re all just mad because I’m right.”

You glare at him. “I’m mad because you’re loud.”

Ilias points at you like he’s presenting a final thesis. “And yet—flushed cheeks. Shifty glances. Heightened vocal pitch.” He sets his hands down with finality, attitude dripping in his gaze. “The data is there. I’m merely analyzing it.”

Kira sips from her drink with the serene expression of someone watching a documentary on slow-burning disasters. “I think you should be very afraid,” she tells him lightly, smiling. “I think they’re planning your downfall.”

“Please,” Ilias says, waving a hand. “If they wanted me gone, I’d already be framed for something weirdly specific.” He raises his voice for the rest of the table, almost announcing, “Don’t be surprised if I wake up one morning and am suddenly framed for impersonating a tenured professor in order to smuggle a haunted relic into the archives!” 

Before Ilias can spiral into another dramatic reenactment of his imaginary academic crimes, a quiet hush rolls over the table.

You look up.

Professor Anaxagoras.

He stands just behind Ilias, hands folded neatly behind his back, a ghost of amusement curling at the corner of his mouth like he’d been standing there long enough to hear something he shouldn’t have. His gaze flicks briefly over the group, then settles on you—warm, sharp, and startlingly direct.

“I must admit,” he says lightly, voice like dry parchment curling in a fireplace, “that’s disturbingly plausible.”

Kira makes a sound—half choke, half squeak—and Ilias nearly drops his drink. Mydei straightens just slightly. Phainon blinks up at Anaxagoras like he’s not entirely convinced he’s real.

You forget how to breathe.

Anaxagoras raises an eyebrow at you in mild inquiry. “When are you turning in your application?”

Your confusion must show, because his brow lifts just a fraction higher, something unreadable flickering in his expression. He waits.

You blink. “I’m not applying. Professor.”

It’s quiet for a beat too long.

His eyes widen—only slightly, but enough to notice. Then something more subtle shifts in his expression, as if the air around him has rearranged itself. He tilts his head, his gaze narrowing just a fraction. Then—unexpectedly—he smiles.

Not the cold, amused smile he offers to half-baked arguments in lecture, or the small polite one he reserves for administrative nonsense.

This one feels different. Quiet. Introspective. Like you’ve said something that has genuinely surprised him.

“Would you excuse us for a moment?” he says, addressing the table but looking only at you. “A word.”

Kira glances at you, and Ilias makes a dramatic slicing motion across his throat like he’s already composing your eulogy. Phainon props his chin on his hands, watching with all the intensity of a wildlife observer about to witness a rare predator interaction.

Your heart kicks up hard, then stumbles.

 You stand slowly.

“Sure,” you say, not sure at all.

Anaxagoras steps aside, letting you pass, his presence folding into the space beside you with such unassuming weight that the rest of the world suddenly feels quiet.

Behind you, Ilias mutters, “He pulled the ‘a word’ move! I’m going to eat this fry solemnly, in case it’s the last one I ever share with them.”

Kira shushes him with a swat.

You walk just a few paces before he speaks, voice low and deliberate.

“You’re not applying,” he repeats. Not a question. A repetition for clarity. For the sake of confirming it aloud.

“No,” you say softly. “I’m not. I was never going to.”

That gets his attention. His eyes cut back to you, something almost imperceptibly shifting in his posture. “No?”

“Studies on consciousness isn’t my field of study,” you say, level. “And I’m not interested in pretending it is for the sake of a symposium.”

He considers that, expression unreadable. “A reasonable position. If a narrow one.”

You raise an eyebrow at that. “I’m not sure being selective with my time is narrow.”

“Selective,” he echoes mildly. “Or avoidant?”

You exhale through your nose. “I just don’t see the value in wasting my time on something I don't care about in a symposium I don’t want to attend.”

He tilts his head. “Cerces is one of the most rigorous thinkers in the field. Even those outside her discipline benefit from her lens.”

You squint at him, not bothering to mask the skepticism in your tone. “I thought you didn’t agree with her methods.”

There’s the briefest pause, the lightest shift in his expression. Then, without missing a beat:  

“Disagreement doesn’t preclude respect.”

“Right,” you say flatly. “That’s what everyone says about their academic rivals.”

His mouth twitches at that—barely. “Have you been reading up on me?”

You blink, caught off guard by the shift in tone. His voice is playful—but there’s a glint of challenge there. You recover fast.

“No,” you say, a little too quickly. “One of her students brought it up. Just now. In passing.” You clear your throat, glance away, and add on awkwardly, “—Professor.”

He doesn’t comment. Just watches you with an amused glint in his eyes.

“You might change your mind,” he pauses, “I’d like you to read a few papers.” He says with a finality.

You cross your arms. “You’re suggesting I read Cerces?”

“I’m suggesting, you examine the argument before rejecting the premise.” He lets the words settle for a beat. “I will send you a couple. You can draw your own conclusions.”

There’s a pause. One breath. Two.

You hesitate. “Fine.”

“I’ll need your email.”

You rattle it off without looking at him, the syllables falling out in practiced order, a thin attempt at professionalism. He offers his phone without a word, calm and unreadable, and you take it before you can think twice.

You type—carefully, trying not to fumble—but your pulse stutters anyway.

When you hand it back, his fingers brush yours.

Barely. A blink. A breath.

But it jolts through you like static, immediate and stupidly vivid. You freeze, absurdly aware of how warm his hand is, how close his attention suddenly feels even though he’s barely moved.

It was nothing. Just skin.

But your brain short-circuits like it’s something else entirely, and now you’re hyper aware of everything—the silence, the distance between you, the way your stomach tightens for no logical reason whatsoever.

You don’t look at him. You refuse to look at him.

He takes the phone back, and his voice is quiet. “I’ll forward them tonight.”

You nod, hoping he doesn’t notice how tense your shoulders are. “Okay,” you say, and your voice comes out a little too soft.

You hate how your face feels warm.

“Thanks.”

He gives you a sharp nod, turning back already.

His eyes flick back to you once—just once—before he returns to the booth, slipping back into the conversation with Cerces like nothing ever happened.

You stay where you are, steadying your breath.

What the hell?

-> next.

taglist: @starglitterz @kazumist @naraven @cozyunderworld @pinksaiyans @pearlm00n @your-sleeparalysisdem0n @francisnyx @qwnelisa @chessitune @leafythat @cursedneuvillette @hanakokunzz @nellqzz @ladymothbeth @chokifandom @yourfavouritecitizen @sugarlol12345 @aspiring-bookworm @kad0o @yourfavoritefreakyhan @mavuika-marquez @fellow-anime-weeb927 @beateater @bothsacredanddust @acrylicxu @average-scara-fan @pinkytoxichearts @amorismujica @sandwichkun

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[w2sology]

DOING THE PRANK WHERE U PRETEND TO GET SOMETHING FROM THE BACK OF THE CAR BUT INTENTIONALLY SMACK YOUR S/O WITH HARRY PLEASE!!!!! would love if u included the comments at the end

cut it out, harry lewis.

summary: harry's been a bit sick of you hopping on tiktok trends, but this one leaves him a little more than baffled.

warnings: none

notes: this trend had me giggling so bad omg 😭😭😭 guys it's been ages (like a month but still) since i last wrote something writer's block was KILLING ME 😀 feel free to send in some prompts or reqs <3

harry had told you to get ready in the next half an hour, that you'd be going on a little date in central london. well, he didn't tell you, rather he sprung the idea up on you after you complained about being bored for the last two days.

it took a lot more than he thought it would've to convince you to leave the house, with harry going as far as telling you that he'd drive. that's how you knew he was being serious.

so as he was getting ready after you, you scrolled through the obsession of your life that was tiktok, laughing every so often and sending some to your friends who had yet to respond to the others that you sent.

stopping on one video that you couldn't stop giggling at, a thought formed in your mind. the tiktok was of a girl who wouldn't stop "accidentally" hotting her boyfriend whilst trying to get things out of the backseat of the car.

it had been ages since you last pulled a joke on harry, yet only the other day he pulled one on you with the help of the boys.

"are you ready yet or are you still laughing at your phone?" harry came back into the bedroom, pulling his navy blue nike hoodie over his shirt.

"i am ready, in fact," you got up, tiptoeing to gently grab a hold of his face, pressing your lips to his. "and the things on my phone will always be funnier than you."

"good joke," he smiled a false smile at you, squeezing your waist before grabbing the keys off of the dresser.

"i still can't believe you're driving. wait, pose with the keys, let me get a photo for your mum."

"don't get too used to this..."

harry walked out before you to put his shoes on, but seeing as you already had yours on, you asked him to unlock the car for you. to him, it seemed you were just eager to leave but really, you had to make sure that there were items in the backseat.

placing one of your tote bags in there, you evenly spread out one of the jellycats that you left in your car and another bag full of spare things. putting the camera at an angle that was able to capture both you and harry, you smiled giddily. soon enough, harry joined you in the driver's side, about to start the car.

"wait!" you called out. "i think i forgot something in the back."

"can't you get it whilst i drive? it's not me you forgot, right?"

"ha ha ha," you rolled your eyes. "no, i might rip it apart by accident."

harry shook his head, nonetheless not starting the car before he looked dead into your camera. he did wonder why you were recording, yet he never actually brought it up.

messing about in the back, deciding which item to use first, you decided on the jellycat.

it was an octopus, one that faith had got you from a trip in florida that she and ethan went to.

"here she is!" you smiled, pulling the jellycat back and purposely hitting it into harry. you did it gently, but not too gentle to the point where he didn't get irritated.

jumping as it made contact with his arm, harry frowned. "ow?" he said, looking at you, but you were too busy dusting off the jellycat.

"hm, actually no." you turned back around to put the stuffed animal back, this time reaching for the tote bag.

luckily, it didn't have anything too sharp in it, so you wouldn't actually hurt harry.

again, you pulled it back with enough force this time slightly jolt harry out of his relaxed position. "are you alright?" he asked, blinking at you.

"huh? what d'you mean?"

"you've just... full on wacked that into me?" he said, more so asked, in shock.

"did i?

"yes?!" you could've sworn you saw his eye twitch, having to restrain your laugh.

"oh," was all you mustered out, looking into the bag as if you actually needed something from it.

harry shook his head, running a hand through his hair as he waited for you to finish. "can we go now?"

"un, not yet actually," and you turned again to the backseat, this time grabbing the last bag.

pulling it back again, it hit harry in his arm, but this time he grabbed the bag from you, tossing it back in the backseat.

"harry! i needed that," you gasped, again to hide your laugh.

"no you didn't, y/n, unless you were using it to target me again" he mimicked your whiny voice.

you didn't know what had you more speechless, the mimicking or his reaction to your silly little prank.

"i wasn't targeting you..."

harry turned to you, giving you the most dead straight look ever. "cut it out, you hit me in the arm three times."

"maybe you were just too close to me."

"i— what?!"

you both stared at each other; harry with a look of shock and slight irritation and you with a serious look that you couldn't quite hold, bursting out in laughter soon after.

"oh my god!" you managed to say in between laughs. "you should see your face!"

"right, let it out. it's not that funny," harry shook his head at your state.

you leaned forward to grab your phone from where you left it, rewinding the last part where harry three the bag in the back. "oh, this is gold."

"you're a right wind up, you know that?" harry said, refusing to give you the satisfaction of know your trick worked on him.

"oh, i know," you smiled at him. "but you live me regardless."

"unfortunately."

"hey," you pushed a hand in his face, instantly groaning when you felt his tongue poke the same hand. "god, just drive."

[crooked-wasteland]

Alright, Let's Attempt Some "Good Faith" Criticism:

Part 1: Medrano is also a terrible Director

My post about The Circus was sniped with a comment that feels like Medrano herself wrote it. I'll function in the belief that it actually is what Medrano intended, and then explain why it still doesn't work in practice.

Firstly, before I even attempt to deconstruct this comment, I need to clarify that Bad Faith has nothing to do with author intent. But it seems this is how the fandom and Medrano herself misuse the term. Bad Faith is a philosophical term, not a literary one. It means to be inauthentic or dishonest, not in a compulsive manner, but intentionally.

Bad Faith IS promising to do something you know you have no intention of doing.

Bad Faith IS knowing you are doing something selfishly while pretending to be altruistic.

Bad Faith IS denying your obvious reality.

Bad Faith is NOT believing that an Author's intentions are flawed or failed to be executed.

Bad Faith is NOT reading malice into something that wasn't intended to have it.

Bad Faith is NOT "making mistakes".

Bad Faith would be extrapolating that Medrano is a rapist herself due to her love of the trope. Or claiming to think poorly of Medrano in order to rile up other people's emotions when you really don't care.

It is a Lie, not a Disagreement.

There is no truth in art, and no "right way" to interpret what you see on the screen. The way people feel about Stolas' and Blitz's dynamic will never be "Bad Faith". Because it is a wholly real and unique experience to those who have interacted with the material.

So the main disagreement is that I see Stolas as a narcissist based on his patterns of behavior. And the irony is that as Medrano has become more insistent of trying to "correct" that image, the more it actually reinforces the perception for myself and most other people. This is not bad faith, this is now miscommunication.

Additionally, Death of the Author is NOT Bad Faith. It is a literary reading of the story with the intentions of the author removed to reflect how the work the Author made is connecting to those engaging with the material.

It says so much that Medrano and her ilk believe we are lying about how her work makes us feel due to the poor quality of writing and direction. In fact, the assumption of dishonesty is itself a source of bad faith when it is used in this manner. Not because it perceives malice, but because it creates a false reality for the simple objective of not having a fair conversation.

Instead of seeing that once art is made public, everyone is allowed to have their own experience, or even acknowledging that the fact Medrano is asked so many questions to clear up her bad writing to even consider that maybe she is actively failing as a director as well. Instead we are somehow inauthentic because we don't agree with her, because she feels entitled to her work even after letting it free.

Which, if that isn't a great encapsulation of the problems between the characters of the show themselves, idk what is.

To breakdown this wall of text, this person is saying that Stolas meant "Ravish" in a way that is no longer in use.

The commenter insists that Stolas was actually referencing Blitz having previously stolen from him as children. And somehow extrapolates a bizarre fantasy of Blitz having returned a quarter of a century later to also steal Stolas, like Blitz stole all his stuff.

To be genuinely frank, the idea that this is readily accessible to any degree is demented. The term Ravish being used in this way is not a good term. This goes into bad writing, because I think we all have ideas of what certain words mean.

When I say sad, I mean a gloomy heaviness of an emotional kind. Like the grey cloud over someone's head that may start raining at any moment. It's a feeling of a depressed and subdued mood. Whereas the word distraught means frantic. High, negative energy. It's a panic-stricken sadness. Or even Depression, where the feeling of sadness may not even be tangible, but the similar oppressive heaviness inside one's soul is almost palpable. Grief-stricken is almost like a sense of fear mixed with sadness. A form of painful emotional horror that consumes the victim with a deep and pervasive sadness.

Words have built in connotations.

Ravish under the archaic use literally implies violence as a default. To Ravish something from someone implies the use of force. Meanwhile, the more current definition of Ravish still implies an almost carnal instinct. Something sudden like a viper's strike, but instead of venom it implies bliss. It is still implying something abrupt and physically stimulating.

And if you do not have a wide vocabulary, you will inappropriately misuse words by not understanding their implications. So while this may be a retconned, or even valid explanation from Medrano herself, it doesn't work on multiple levels.

In writing, it doesn't work because everyone who first saw that scene believed Stolas was implying that Blitz had come to have sex with him. Mainly because of this:

It's clear from this sequence that Stolas is viewing Blitz sexually. It contradicts the idea that Stolas had any other intentions, specifically because we see this from his perspective with the pink haze of lust and infatuation around Blitz. Add to it the unnecessarily awkward porn talk by the Hellhound guard and Stolas' blushing after the fact, we know what Stolas is feeling and thinking through nonverbal direction. And he's definitely not thinking about that giant bag of stuff Blitz stole from him.

Second, it contradicts Stolas' character. He's supposed to be intelligent. He finds Blitz's really obscure horse joke funny, but it is only funny to people who know things. We see Stolas' favorite things are books by how he is going through his library with young Blitz when they are children.

So Stolas would know the implications of a word like Ravish. It could have worked if Stolas was in some way upset over Blitz stealing from him, but he clearly is not from the moment they lay eyes on each other. Ravish would never be used for unimportant trinkets. The connotation is that it implies a struggle or having something precious taken from you against your will. And Stolas, being book smart, would know this fact. So him misusing the word in such a way also breaks his character, because it shows the book-smart guy is actually unable to learn from books.

Meanwhile, this is Blitz:

Doesn't take much rocket science to see Blitz is scared. The dynamic is on full display on how Stolas feels (he's seeing this as a porno script) and Blitz feels literally helpless. It's clear in this sequence that Blitz's is trying to gain some control over the situation only for Stolas to shut him down. And Blitz is both resigned and intimidated. He doesn't know what to expect going into this room and it's clear he doesn't think it is going to be anything good.

So when Stolas throws out that Blitz is there to "Ravish" him, you see Blitz concoct the scheme to get the book in real time.

When Blitz says "Oh, yeah...!" You can see it animated on his face how he is trying to come up with a plan to gain some ground. He sees the book, has a thoughtful look while the "Sexy music" plays (another layer of clear indication that Ravish was always intended to mean something sexual by Stolas) before leaning into the setup.

And here Stolas outrightly refutes the belief that he ever thought Blitz came to steal from him. Theft does tend to fall under "nefarious" actions, and if Stolas believed Blitz broke in to steal from him while everyone was distracted at the party, well, he wouldn't be saying this. He genuinely thinks Blitz is there for him specifically.

This line prohibits the audience from linking together the current situation with Blitz's childhood actions entirely. It signals that Stolas either doesn't care at all about Blitz being a thief, or he doesn't even realize he was stolen from to this day. So the idea that "Ravish" was in reference to that setup is soundly put to bed.

Then the two sit down and Stolas starts wanting to "reconnect", like an awkward coffee date after a one night stand. Due to the absolute strangeness of his horny fantasy, it's a good faith assumption that he wants this to be more than just some random sex, he wants a connection. Asking what Blitz does for work and getting panicked when Blitz admits to being an assassin.

Frankly, the best bit of characterization is that Stolas legitimately thinks for a second that Blitz may have been hired to kill him.

Anyway, this is going to have to be split into two parts because I only can post 10 pictures and I've already posted 7 and we still need to cover Blitz's perspective. So, let's call it here.

[izzyfishie]

there’s a big difference between envy and genuine disliking, which is something people tend to forget when looking at gihun and sangwoo’s bond. sangwoo does not dislike gihun, but rather he dislikes the associations that come with him.

(this is a remake of the reblog i made while debunking one’s claims)

a couple days ago i made a response rant on twitter on why sangwoo didnt look down upon gihun as a person. in fact, (and this is actually confirmed by park hae-soo) sangwoo sees himself as inferior to gihun in multiple senses, which is where the envy stems from. sangwoo is envious of the warmth and likability gihun possesses that he knows he never could possess. gihun is a natural leader, with charm.

psychologically, superiority complexes are often met with inferiority complexes, whether those be more surface level or buried. sangwoo seems to struggle with both of these, as far as i’ve noticed. he’s incredibly wrapped up in general perception of him—his status, upbringing, etc—and is told by the people around him that he is this incredibly gifted, intelligent, generally just above average person. being raised in such a dingy, low-economical neighborhood also doesn’t help that; he is generally led to believe that he is better than that. key word believe. its quite obvious sangwoo suffers from a lot of self-loathing, and general depression (depression also often comes with a warped sense of self and cognitive perception in the outside world)

sangwoo is also a striver. we see him outside of the games constantly chasing success; he looks down upon those who do not strive to compete for first place. this sentiment is commonly misinterpreted as sangwoo looking down upon gihun, but im here to say thats not true! i myself am a very competitive person. i admittedly too tend to look down upon those who do not compete. but that doesnt mean we see them as lesser than us. it’s more just like a “why the hell are you like this” thing as far as ive seen.

so while he may scorn gihun for not being as competitive as him, and for settling where he is, that doesnt mean he sees gihun as beneath him. (the only reason he wants gihun beneath him is to fuck him hahahahah)

you can be envious of somebody, want what they have, and still love them to death. envy is the want of something. this actually proves sangwoo sees himself more as inferior to gihun, if anything. it’s confirmed that sangwoo sees gihun as naïve and sometimes frustrating, but also charming. and the lyrics “long for” and “adore” in the section of fly me to the moon THAT WERE ALIGNED INTENTIONALLY, MIND YOU.

we see sangwoo continuously show signs of respect to gihun—allowing gihun to speak and make plans, even when he has seemingly intelligent things to say. letting him be the leader/lead him. as ive said millions of time, calling him hyung, even when arguing or laying dying in his arms.

the sergeant/corporal comment made by gihun also proves that he KNOWS sangwoo is not above him. he doesn’t treat sangwoo that way, but rather he’s genuinely proud of him and of his achievements. he has so much faith that even with 6 billion won debt, he doesnt see him as completely screwed. he remains optimistic towards him.

however, gihun is also a subconscious association of ssangmun-dong and sangwoo’s general childhood. sangwoo is frequently seen trying to push away his childhood—not because its bad or painful to him, but because he thinks he needs to be better than/above that. that mixed with self hatred and general inferiority, does not bode well for our beloved fag.

so, no. sangwoo does not despise gihun. its a lot more nuanced and layered than just that. he really really cares deeply for him and respects him, otherwise he truly wouldnt have done all the things he did in the games.

dare i say he.. loves him?? oh no! is that.. shipping???? 😨😨

dare i say sangwoo loves him, too? and just expresses and handles it differently? WHAT???? oh no.. i need to sit down.. 😓

(that was sarcasm. they’re fucking tonight.)

[blanketforcas]

🚩Cult and cultlike/toxic behavior: red flags in fandom 🚩

A non-exhaustive list inspired by my 10+ years of experience in fandom, both personal and second-hand. By sharing this, I hope to make other people more aware and able to protect themselves in the future. No fandom space or friend group is worth your mental health.

They claim they have secret information and use that to lure you in

They might either lovebomb you at first or make you (feel like you have to) prove your worth

The leader(s) of the group might not feel super approachable, at least not without fear of saying the wrong thing

They seem to create or point out a divide in fandom you’d never noticed before. Likely this divide isn’t actually there in wider fandom, or the need for it is wholly unnecessary.

They create an us vs them (outsiders) situation. Their group has the most knowledge and expertise, if others critique them it’s simply cause they must’ve heard false rumors. They are always the ones who are “misunderstood”.

Questioning statements from leaders/people with high regard in the group, is not without risk. You can get dogpiled, your intelligence put into question and gaslit about your own words and feelings.

You see discussions happen and get more heated, and at the end of that discussion the person on the receiving end of the things mentioned above ^ starts apologizing profusely and/or believes they are indeed stupid. However, if this person does keep defending their stance, they might get bullied or kicked out of the server/group chat

Too much emphasis on Being Right/having the correct take or theory – it may seem it has a higher priority than empathy and tactful communication

You need to have an opinion (their opinion), because silence equals condoning or agreeing with the “other side”

Bad-faith interpretations of posts/statements from someone considered part of the "out-group". You feel in your gut that something is off and they're misrepresenting it, but you find yourself wanting to agree anyway cause it fits the narrative the group subscribes to and going against that is generally not welcomed.

Everything is a moral issue. When everything is made out to be a high-stakes issue or reflective of everyone as a person, it's easier for the leader(s) to manipulate you.

You find yourself excusing people’s behavior because you agree with their point. The way they bring their argument forward and the tone they use, become subordinate to finding out the truthTM

There is such a thing as The TruthTM in every theory, discussion or analysis

If you don't Get It, it's cause you haven't "worked on yourself enough". Or it's cause you're not trying hard enough, or you haven't done enough reading, or you have blind spots only they can see.

There is a lot of conspiratorial thinking – maybe actors are trying to send us secret messages, maybe there is a Whole Lot You Don’t Know But We Do, Trust Us, maybe this or that person in fandom has tried to attack us and are planning a bigger attack,…

You barely/don’t have fandom friends outside of this group and if you do, you tend to intentionally (whether subconsciously or not) hide your experience from them. They wouldn’t understand the way they talk, they wouldn’t understand the way it works etc

They want to know a lot of your personal information. - might only happen once you get into higher ranks

You might get (more and more) specific “tasks”, it starts becoming a part-time job instead of a hobby/fun space to hang out with friends

Of course, these red flags are not always immediately visible let alone advertised when you join a group chat/discord server/twitter or tumblr bubble. They can also be nonexistent at first and show up later. Here are some general ways to stay vigilant:

Periodically check in with your values, if they might be changing & how you feel about that.

Keep an eye on the way people (and yourself) are being treated. Is it kind? Is it fair? Do you feel on edge all the time when you’re having conversations? Is your body more tense when you’re in this online space or when certain people are around? Be honest with yourself here.

Ask yourself: Is this space becoming my only coping mechanism? Am I spending too much time here? There’s no shame in spending a lot of time on things you enjoy, but do check in with yourself sometimes whether you are actually still having fun and if you are taking things too seriously or parasocialising a lot.

There's a lot of fun to be had in fandom and a lot of good that comes out of it - don't forget that. Keep seeking that. It's why we're here!

[blank-house]

just started making a gingerbread house and it made me wonder how the LI's would decorate them. who's making it as ugly and awful as possible LOL

As ugly and awful? Hmm... I'm not sure any of them would

Jamie's definitely making his look professional as fuck-- there's his pride on the line, alright. Elio's never done any gingerbread house building before so I feel like he'd put it in a lot of effort to make it look nice. And Percy won't intentionally make things awful haha he might fuck around with the icing or eat the directions but I think it wouldn't be that bad. Then again-- his campus painting doesn't instill much faith

[lakevalorr]

Warning: Unhinged Autistic Rant

I already know some of y'all are gonna misinterpret this interaction (some people already have), so here's my thoughts on the Glisten & Blot interaction.

So, Blot is already not in the best mood. It's been shown that he doesn't like doing machines, and he doesn't like progressing through floors. So he's not exactly happy.

So Glisten is trying to strike up a conversation here. The only problem is that he knows NOTHING about the circus (mainly due in part that he hates/is afraid of clowns), so obviously, his first thought is, "hey, mimes are supposed to be silent, right?" It was meant to just be a simple comment.

But Blot is already not in the best mood, so hearing this, he takes it as an insult, and goes completely silent. Or perhaps he's being a smart ass and is taking his comment literally by being silent. Maybe both.

Glisten knows he screwed up here, so he tries to backtrack, but again, he does it in probably the worst way possible. He's not intentionally trying to be an asshole. This is more of a way of saying, "oh, c'mon, Blot. I was just messing with you. We're still cool." But he also tries to do so in a playful manner, potentially as a way to appeal to the fact that he's in a circus troupe.

Blot doesn't think it's sincere, so he remains silent. He probably also knows Glisten won't be able to understand him anyway.

Saying that Glisten is intentionally being mean here is just a really bad faith interpretation of this, and it really discounts the fact that:

1. He's kind of playing a character.

2. The two just aren't compatible. Their personalities clash.

No hate to anyone who might've interpreted that way in the beginning, I made the same mistake with Bassie and Cocoa, but characters are complex, guys. It's not black and white.

Sincerely,

Val the #1 Glisten Apologist.

[vehiculartheyslaughter]

I have made multiple valid points that you are refusing to engage with because you have no counter arguments.

Also multiple paragraphs are better than big walls of text because they are easier for people with ADHD to read through.

Many people in the community really insist on conflating gender identity and gender class to present transmascs as privileged and part of the oppressor male class. This male positioning is then used to further distort, minimize our experiences and often even deny the misogyny we continue to face after transition. They say that trans men are men, not only in terms of gender identity, but also in terms of gender class, essentially they say that society perceives trans men as men, which is an insane thing to believe.

They advance the logic that identifying as a male places you in the male class, which gives you access to male privilege and power. Of course, the patriarchal class system doesn't work that way; patriarchy doesn't respect the gender identities of trans people. But unfortunately, many trans men fall for this and start to believe that they belong to the male class and have power over women, which isn't true at all and it's a harmful narrative.. That's why it's so important to distinguish between being a male in terms of gender identity and being a male in terms of gender class.

Trans men are men in terms of the former (gender identity) but not in terms of latter (gender class); in the latter case they are either women ("women who want to be men") or a third gender class.

[bumbled-bees]

Lily, the Victim-Blaming Victim

Lily presents herself as a victim, someone who has been relentlessly harassed, mistreated, and pushed to the breaking point. She insists that she’s only ever responding to provocation and that any hostility she displays is just her defending herself. But when you actually examine her words and actions, it becomes clear that she has a deeply toxic, victim-blaming mindset—one that excuses her own cruelty while demanding absolute obedience from others.

She’s made statements along the lines of “If you don’t want me to get mad, stop doing things that make me mad” (paraphrased). This is classic abuser logic—it places the responsibility for her emotions entirely on other people. If she lashes out? If she berates or humiliates someone? That’s their fault. They should have known better. They should have anticipated her reaction. It’s the same rhetoric used to justify mistreatment: “I wouldn’t have yelled at you if you didn’t do [x].” The implication being that her anger is always justified and that anyone who upsets her—whether intentionally or not—deserves what they get.

And because Lily sees herself as infallible, she refuses to entertain the idea that she could ever be in the wrong. Any attempt to correct her, even gently, is treated as a personal attack. If someone tries to offer clarification on something she’s misunderstood? That’s “talking past” her. If someone presents evidence contradicting her claims? That’s “bad faith”. If someone even slightly disagrees with her stance? They’re “um, actually”-ing her and deserve to be mocked or banned. There is no room for discussion in Lily’s world—only obedience.

This was on full display during a recent stream, where a chatter (bravely) pointed out, “You’re kinda mean to your audience.” Instead of reflecting on her behavior or even considering their perspective, Lily’s response was “Listen the first time.” This one sentence is so revealing. It tells us that she doesn’t see her own behavior as the problem—she sees her audience as the problem. In her mind, if they ever feel mistreated, that’s on them. They weren’t following her instructions well enough. They weren’t paying attention. They weren’t obeying quickly enough. It’s not her job to be kind, it’s their job to avoid making her mad in the first place.

This ties directly into how she treats her fanbase in general. Lily has an unforgiving, authoritarian approach to her audience—you’re either fully on board with her and completely obedient, or you’re a problem that needs to be removed. She demands complete control over her space. Any deviation, any questioning of her, and you’re gone. She doesn’t tolerate discussion. She doesn’t tolerate clarification. She expects blind loyalty and submission.

This is why she frequents fandom spaces dominated by younger, impressionable viewers. She relies on audiences that won’t push back against her. Children and teenagers are less likely to question authority figures, and if they do question her, they’re easy to shame and guilt-trip into compliance. But when she ventures outside those spaces? When she tries to engage with adults who actually know better and aren’t afraid to call her out? That’s when she gets laughed out of the room.

It’s also why she has to rebrand herself over and over. People wise up to her patterns. The same cycle repeats itself:

She gains an audience of people who initially buy into her persona.

Over time, they notice her contradictions, hypocrisy, and toxic behavior.

They push back—whether by asking questions, correcting misinformation, or calling out her mistreatment of others.

She purges them, calls them stalkers or bad-faith actors, and attempts to paint herself as the victim.

With her reputation tanking, she rebrands and tries to attract new fans who don’t know better yet.

And the cycle begins again.

Lily thrives in spaces where she can control the narrative, silence dissent, and frame herself as the ultimate authority. The moment people push back or start thinking for themselves, they become the enemy. The moment she loses control, she abandons the persona and starts over.

Her entire public identity is built on being the victim, but when you actually analyze her words, actions, and expectations, it’s clear: she has no real empathy for victims at all. She is only interested in wielding victimhood as a weapon—to excuse her own behavior, silence criticism, and demand absolute control over those around her.

[rei-ismyname]

The deification of Jean Grey

When a 16 year old Jean Grey was bought to the present by Hank McIrresponsible, she was immediately confronted with the post-death canonisation the X-Men greater social circle had saddled her with. Big feelings and bigger expectations.

The worst of it was from people who'd never even met her, but those closest to her was no less fraught. Adult Scott was certainly affected by her presence, but he behaved the most normal about it (cough, Logan.)

This is a really cute conversation, clearly something Jean needs. Not sure I agree that Jean never had a chance. She made her choices as a hero but there's plenty that *could* have gone differently. Besides, she's already come back to life at least once and travelled through time a bunch. You can't keep Jean Grey down for long. I'd expect Scott to say something like that, though he seems especially pensive at this point. I guess it's understandable, as time travel is a headfuck. It's cute that he's jealous of his younger self and that he admits it.

Scott's empathy for Hank here is really sweet, especially considering the lengths Hank went through to hurt him (intentionally or not.) The very presence of Jean should be reminding people of the culpability of a Phoenix host. Jean is safely dead and can be put on a pedestal, whereas Scott receives nothing but venom. I'm sure Chuck's death is a big factor, but the man tried very hard to die by Dark Phoenix Jean, too. It's easy to overlook the flaws of the dead, and in many ways Jean and Xavier both get canonised as mutant saints. Neither deserve it, for different reasons.

Oh boy, Jean's actions here are difficult to discuss appropriately. She's lonely and scared, she's just woken up from a nightmare, and the person she's closest to is there for her - all grown up. I doubt this is intended to be sexual, my read on it is Jean reaching for platonic intimacy. It's definitely rooted in the love Scott and Jean have for each other, something their awkward 16 year old selves haven't managed to navigate. 'The man I hoped you'd be' is loaded as hell, but it is very human. None of us have ever met our time-displaced selves or loves, and it's very understandable to view them as the same person, except not/better.

I'm not going to credit Scott for not learning into Jean's confusion and need for comfort (because it's just the right thing to do) but I do think he understands and he definitely handled it appropriately. Setting firm boundaries and pivoting the focus to the kind of support Jean needs is considerate and responsible.

Kitty's stance and pseudo-threat here is difficult to parse. She says he handled it well, luckily for him, implying that she was listening the whole time but was also wary of him not handling it well? It's hard to see this as anything other than Kitty thinking they might fuck. I'm not sure they do understand each other, because Kitty didn't listen to him, she just banned him from being in her room alone. Not an unreasonable policy to have, but it doesn't give Scott a lot of credit. As they both leave, Jean cries which seems like a failure of duty of care. Feels like there's more going on here. 'But if the genders were reversed' whataboutery is usually bad faith nonsense, but there is an actual example here. If Kitty heard young Bobby crying alone or screaming in the middle of the night I'm pretty sure she'd check in on him. That she's dated his adult counterpart changes nothing. Adult! Scott and Teen! Jean could communicate telepathically any time they wished, so idk. Maybe just the writers covering their bases and overcorrecting.

Then there's Emma and the Cuckoos. While Emma is the best person to train and teach Teen Jean, she does it in a very messed up way. Jean is so obviously right when she identifies that Emma has issues. I'm not fond of this plot point, or at least how it's written - the whole 'girls are bitchy and jealous' regressive idea put centre stage. This psychic duel fails the Bechdel Test and makes all the adults look super irresponsible for allowing it to happen.

Keep in mind Emma is bombarding a 16 year old with sexual images. Jean IS a saint for putting up with this shit and not melting her brain. Telepathy isn't real, but intrusive thoughts are - and I don't think it's a stretch to say targeted sexualised intrusive thoughts is deliberately traumatizing a teenager. I definitely think this could have been written better. Emma having unresolved Jean Grey issues is to be expected, but dealing with it like this and everyone being okay with it is difficult to believe.

Then again, it seems nobody is immune to the deification of Jean Grey, not even the writers. They all know her as the most powerful telepath so obviously teenage Jean can deal with whatever you throw at her. Kitty and Scott should know better, and Emma has plenty of other ways to train Jean. Yes, she's the great Jean Grey, but she's also a 16 year old who's not coping all that well. I'm glad that Teen Jean and Emma became friends not long after this, but it says a lot that the dude writing it couldn't figure out a way to explain it on the page. There was an opportunity here to show women building a friendship off their commonalities, but instead it's something Jean has to overcome with psychic power not emotional strength - and the adults looking after her don't look very responsible.