#so that by the time they do get to see different societies and different ways of living

[goopgirlie813]

Fair, I guess. I see where you are coming from. 

From my perspective, the reason serial criminals like Dahmer get brought up is because it is the situation where prisons seem the most necessary. Like, at least temporarily, if someone is killing and raping other people they should be separated from society so they can't access victims, right? Even if just until they finish some form of rehab. And in my mind, none of the things you proposed seemed like they would actually deny serial criminals access to victims. Forceful detention, even just temporarily, seems in my mind like the most reliable way to keep someone like Dahmer from having an opportunity to reoffend. That's the key, opportunity to reoffend. I find it terrifying to imagine a society where someone can be caught and convicted and sentenced for horrific crimes and still have the opportunity to access victims if they want. I think that's what most people are trying to do with that argument. Not an infinite loop but an (admittedly poorly executed) expression of the fear that without prison people like Dahmer could just continue killing. Intuitively it seems like these people won't stop unless they are incapable of continuing and prison is an easy to understand way to make their reoffenses impossible. Its scary to imagine taking that away and reintroducing that possibility. 

That said, now that I've cooled off a bit I think I can better see why you are frustrated. You have been answering to the best of your ability but there have been layers of uncommunicated assumptions beneath the questions we were asking that we (or I, at least) didn't even realize were there. I thought I was being more straightforward than I was because I took for granted the ways your perspective differed from what I am familiar with. 

I assumed that it was a given that Serial Criminals need a forceful denial of access to victims in order to be adequately addressed and I also assumed that it was a given that prisons are the only way to guarantee that. The way it has always been presented to me, prisons are the definitive method of stopping a crime and those crimes can only continue harming the public if the perpetrator is outside of the prison. So follow that logic train, if someone won't stop reoffending you need to be able to draw a line somewhere by putting them in prison or else it will never end. Therefore, if you abolish prisons, some criminals will never and can never be stopped so we will be forced to accept the fact that we may be murdered or raped or whatever at any random point and there will be nothing anyone can do to stop them. (Except extrajudicial violence, of course, but that's really no way to run a stable society.)

And I'm sure you will see some glaring issues with that train of thought that aren't so obvious to me, but hopefully that makes it make a little more sense.

The key problem here, I think, is that we believe that some form of detention is the only way to definitively stop certain people from re-offending. Specifically for the scenarios where the crime is a serious danger to others, like rape and murder. We want a definitive solution to exist somewhere because if it doesn't then the mere existence of Dahmer types evokes a feeling of terrified helplessness, "what if we can't change them? What if there's nothing we can do to be safe?" 

Detention seems like the only truly definitive answer (or at least, the most definitive available) so what's really being asked is, "is there a point in which you will allow prison in emergencies or do you have a different, equally definitive way to stop them?" and no number of rehabilitation or reduction options listed will ever satisfy that question. There needs to be something that can forcefully prevent killers who want to kill from killing (or raping or stealing or whatever) in that time period between conviction and reform, or else we will never find complete prison abolition an acceptable option, no matter how much we support rehabilitation as the primary approach (as I do. I only argue for detention as an emergency back up plan for repeat offenders of horrific crimes, to keep them from hurting people if or until they can be successfully rehabilitated). Without that, it seems like a gaping hole, an oversight, a blind spot, a loophole for the worst of the worst to terrorize us without adequate consequence or barriers.

I was getting really frustrated that you were treating the "what if they reoffend?" question like a rhetorical trick because in my mind it was asking, "How do we prevent people who want and intend to kill us from actually being able to kill us?" (big fear for those in marginalized groups who face frequent hate and threats) but to you it seems it sounded like "how can we trick you into supporting prisons and admitting you're wrong?" And while you seem to have been trying to say, "I'm not budging on my opinion unless you can convince me that prisons are valuable," it sounded to us like, "so what if they kill people? Prisons fail too much anyway so letting them go on murder sprees really isn't any worse if you think about it. Allowing a little murder and rape here and there is just the price of a fair and just society." And while that probably sounds bonkers to you I hope it explains why you're getting the reactions you are. I mean, imagine how you would react if you thought someone was telling you that, if they couldn't just talk him into being a good person, they would have shrugged it off and willingly let Jeffery fucking Dahmer continue roaming free for the sake of "improvement" and dismissed his victims as collatoral damage. Not what you were saying, but the miscommunication sure as hell made it sound that way. In reality, we are all talking past each other and having two separate conversations and the same time without realizing it. 

(Hope I understood what you were trying to say correctly.) 

so yeah I apologize for making you pull out your hair, I've been doing the same. Hopefully this helps at least a little bit. Even if you still think we're being irrational and foolish for this position I hope it gives you a little more clarity moving forward.

Pretty sure @needabetternamelater has reblogged like 5 of my posts and then blocked me. So that's funny. But, just in case it's just a glitch that won't let me reblog those replies.

What do we do with rapists in a prisonless society? Well, 1. Fewer than 1% of rapists go to prison, so holding up prison as the standard that any other solution has to beat isn't hard. What do with do with rapists in a society with prisons? For 99+%? Not prison.

2. Prisons do not reduce the amount of rapes that happen. So again, prison fails pretty handedly at being both a prevention and a punishment. (It's a bit like arguing 'without the death penalty, what will we do with shop lifters?")

3. I've explain many times, on posts you've responded to, the variety of responses a justice system can have to any crime, including sexual assault. Mandatory counseling, restraining orders, restorative/reparation hearings, housing and employment restrictions, fines, caseworker check ins, mental health consults, and vocational training are all possible responses, and which would would have the best chance of preventing recidivism would depend on the specifics of that person and the risk factors in them reoffending.

In the past, we locked people in pillories and cut off their hands for crimes. Phasing out a cruel and ineffective punishment doesn't mean there's free reign for crime.

[allthecanadianpolitics]

Hey, I know this isn't your normal content so feel free to not respond, but what's your opinion on the "socialization" issue (as in trans men are socialized as woman and trans woman are socialized as men before transitioning and it effects their personality) ? Recently I've seen a bunch of posts saying it's a bad thing to acknowledge. Like trans men and woman saying people who bring it up are trans misogynists. But personally, as a trans man with many trans fem friends I feel it's an important thing to see. In my view of things it's a larger part of sexism and what children are taught. By saying a trans woman was "socialized" as a man when she was a child I don't mean she was raised with a bunch of privileges. I'm often referring to what could be very traumatic and is a brand of trauma I probably can't relate to. Most trans woman I know where forcibly excluded from learning how to cook or clean even if they wanted to because those aren't "manly chores" and where not taught how to keep themselves safe the same way cis woman are. Or in the experience of my friends even beaten for wanting to do feminine things, not just by parents but also by peers. Where as most of the trans men I know can cook and clean like no ones business but no one taught them how to fix a sink or their car or how basic financing worked and they got hit for asking about it because "that's not a woman's place". And although I fully believe all children should be taught how to do all these things so they can take care of themselves, I am also aware that's not the society we currently live in and most trans men need help learning how to navigate things like not talking over woman (they're so used to having to scream to be heard) and how to fix a financial or household issue while alot of trans woman need their girlfriends to explain to them that they can't walk down a dimly lit street with their headphones covering both their ears. Idk maybe I'm just misunderstanding the whole thing but I think acknowledging socialization Is simply a step in learning how to take care of yourself and keep yourself safe in a world that didn't think you needed that info

I think there's some value as a way to understand the way that each gender was raised and the way gender roles are reinforced, but even so you can say I was 'socialized as a man' as I am a Trans Woman, but at the same time, I never really acted much like a man because the more I was socialized to act like a man, the more I gravitated towards feminine things that didn't cause me dysphoria.

I have a completely different lived experience growing up compared to a Cis man, even when I wasn't aware I was Trans.

I did have to do a lot of unlearning toxic masculine things and needing to learn essential feminine things as I came out and started living for myself and my gender expression, but a lot of the things that people say I was socialized as a man to, I just never did because they made me extremely uncomfortable. Its because I was never a man.

You can try to socialize a Trans person to act against their gender identity but a lot of the time, those gender roles just do not get enforced, because they're so toxic to your sense of self.

[alexanderwales]

I've been thinking about "if you don't like it, don't watch it".

First off ... yeah, probably better to just not engage with things rather than being a hater. Better not to piss in someone's Cheerios. Your Kink is Not My Kink But Your Kink is Okay, or whatever. I don't think the path to happiness lies in making haterdom your whole personality, and I think most of the time a single "wow, that sucked" is what's appropriate, or a longer "woooow" if you want to write some analysis/review.

However, we live in a society, and that society can only produce a limited number of quality pieces of media. You might immediately object to that, saying that we're living in an unending sea of content so vast that no one could swim through it all, and my reply is that this is only kind of true. There's a lot of content, yes, but there's a limit on how much budget is going to get spent on content in a given year, and there's certain to be some kind of power law distribution the higher the budgets involved. Those budgets are being used to procure talent from a limited pool.

So every piece of art that gets made which isn't to your preferences does, in some sense, mean that something you actually like doesn't get made. In practice, if that piece of art weren't made, maybe nothing would be made, or maybe some different piece of art you wouldn't like would be made. But there is, ultimately, a limited pool of labor and talent, when it comes to art.

I think that's something to chew on. Obviously a lot of the things that are made are made because someone, somewhere, really had a passion for it, often the artist, and other things are made without passion but because there was a wide market. I think if you're a utilitarian, you might want them to keep making lots of things that are "for" other people, because this is what's best for the greater good (the greater good).

But seeing all that time and effort poured into something that you do not care about? Or something that's poorly made and no one likes? Seeing Hollywood spend a hundred million dollars on a flop? Seeing a game get crippled by its monetization?

There is a part of me that says "well hold on, I do want to talk about why I hate this, why it's bad, what I hated about it, and in fact, I hope that in doing so I can even marginally shift the needle to help the vast ecosystem of creative works move more in a direction that I actually enjoy".

How to message in such a way that this is what you're doing is another conversation entirely. There are lots of very irritating ways to phrase this. But I do think the mindset makes sense, and in certain forms is defensible.

[fictitiouswanderings]

Untitled Jayvik throwaway

“It doesn’t mean a thing to me if you’re different” Jayce spoke softly to Viktor, his hand cupping his face. 

Viktor had no idea how he ended up in this predicament. His lab partner was so close he could smell his cologne, hell he could smell the liquor on his breath. “You’re just saying that” he replied, turning his head away from his calloused hand. “You wouldn’t even begin to understand the differences we own” 

What was once a normal day in the lab had turned so quickly into a sloppy mess, how had this happened? A celebration of their newest accomplishments, a little liquor, and maybe being in each other's closeness a little too often had led to this, but Viktor couldn’t help but squirm away from him. Tipsy or not, he didn’t think of his lab partner as anything other than such, or at least that’s what he wanted to think. It was impossible to not get so close after working day and night together like they had, but he’d never imagine they’d be THIS close, or that Piltover’s golden boy would find him attractive. He could have anyone he wanted, so why him? 

“Then indulge me”, Jayce said, as he pulled his hand back and gave the other some space so that he wasn’t almost pinning him to the counter. He could see Viktor visibly relax, his hand on his cane adjusting for a better hold. “I know that you’re ill, I can see that, but ill or not I still have these feelings for you, and I can’t very well hold them back any longer”

“Why me?”, was all Viktor could muster, lowering his eyes from the other’s intense gaze. 

“Why not you?”

Viktor has a secret, something he felt he couldn’t share with anyone. In order to fit into Piltover’s greater society he had to keep it to himself. He worked harder than anyone else to deserve where he was at now. A great scientist, an amazing discoverer of magics yet to be harnessed. He wouldn’t let his illnesses defeat his sheer will to create. 

Working hard in the laboratory side by side with his partner Jayce they did amazing things, even if the council was unconvinced in its usefulness. Most nights he would stay at the lab, sleeping sprawled across the desk and his notes, but every so often he would need to return home, and home was the safest of places for him. A place where he could rest as he really needed to. 

Wearing a binder wasn’t safe for long periods of time, he knew that, but work required his attention. It wasn’t like he needed a binder, he was already fairly flat and could hide well enough under layers of clothing, but he enjoyed the extra security it offered. At home he could strip down from all the extra things his body required, braces and such, but it always felt best to take off that damned binder at the end of a long day. His body ached but he made his way to the shower to clean off. 

Under the warm water he found himself thinking of his lab partner, the way his eyes sparkled when they were on the brink of discovery, the way his voice quickened. He would be stupid to deny that he was handsome as well as smart. He sighed softly under the warmth and tried to let his thoughts drift off to anything else, but they’d always come back to him. There wasn’t anything he could do about it, Jayce was just so enticing. His broad shoulders and chest, his physique spoke of being more than a scientist and Viktor wondered how he found the time to make it to the gym as well as work in the lab. He hummed softly as he washed his hair then the rest of his body before getting out to dry off. 

He hobbled over to the mirror and wiped away the condensation before leaning in and taking a closer look at his face. It was gaunt, like always. No matter how much he ate, or what he did, he always looked like he was at the brink of starvation, a ghost of a man. He hated how smooth his skin was, and thought of how effortless it seemed for Jayce to grow a beard in the days they’d be working on something. Hardly anything grew on his own, not even peach fuzz. He sighed and instead grabbed a nearby brush and ran it through his hair, the one thing he was proud of. He took great care to detangle it. Once he was done brushing his hair he made sure to dry off completely, throwing the towel over a rack before leaving his bathroom completely nude to return to his bed. 

It wasn’t until he heard a key drop that he realized he wasn’t alone. He was maybe halfway to his bed when he heard the noise, followed by a sharp gasp. No other feeling could describe how he felt other than a deer in headlights. He looked across the room towards the door past the small kitchenette, and in the doorway was Jayce standing there looking dumbfounded. 

Jayce quickly turned around and faced the door, “S-Sorry!”, he yelled out, “I thought I would come check on you since you weren’t at the lab–”

“GET OUT, GET OUT OF HERE RIGHT NOW”, Viktor shouted. He quickly grabbed the sheet off his bed and covered himself from chest to toe, his whole body flushed with embarrassment.

Without saying another word, and without picking up the dropped key Jayce fumbled the doorknob of his apartment and left. 

How could he have not heard the door open? What all did he see? Pretty obviously his whole naked ass body. Viktor sat on his bed and groaned, his face falling into his hands. His biggest secret was out, and so stupidly. What could he do about this now? He tried to regain his composure but instead let himself fall onto his side in his bed, curling up and holding himself tightly.

—-

It had been days since the incident and Viktor was nowhere to be seen. Jayce worked hard in the lab despite this. He wondered when the other would return to work, he’d almost never missed a day despite his illnesses, so this was unnerving to him. He felt awful for walking in on him, and still couldn’t wrap his brain around what he saw. He chalked it up to late nights working hard, blurring his vision and making him see things, because he thought he saw Viktor, but with the body of a frail woman’s. 

He shook his head and put down his work, maybe going to the gym would help him clear his thoughts. He left the lab as it was since only he and Viktor really visited any longer. He made his way down to the gym to pump iron and forget about it, but nothing helped. He still wondered and worried about Viktor, was he okay? Was he eating enough? Was he sick? Covered in a slick sweat he ended his workouts for the day and went to clean up, Viktor still on his mind. He decided it would be best if he went to visit him again. If he was sick maybe he could make something for him, or acquire some medicine to help.He hoped he’d even be welcomed. 

All the way there his thoughts were in the clouds, wondering if things would be okay. He finally stopped in front of the familiar apartment door, this time keyless. He stood there for a moment wondering if this was the right thing to do. The last time he’d entered he’d found himself invading Viktor’s privacy, though this time he would be announced at least. He took one final sigh before knocking on the door.

Viktor, who had been deep in thought, jumped when he heard the sound. He’d been sitting at a table in the livingroom working on some schematics trying to make sense of them, his coffee long gone cold next to him. 

“Hello? Who is it?” He called out without getting up from the table.

“It’s Jayce” came the reply. 

Viktor’s body stiffened. It had been a couple of days now and he was hiding away in shame. He wasn’t sure he could see him again. 

“I just wanted to see if you’re okay, you are okay right?”, came his voice through the door again.

Viktor grabbed his cane and got up from the table, slowly hobbling over to the door before opening it despite his stomach churning. He looked up at the other man, and saw genuine concern in his face, which stopped him from snapping at him.

“I’m fine. Is that all you came to see?”

“Yeah well, you haven’t been coming to the lab, so I was worried– what do you mean is that all I came to see?”, an eyebrow raised

Viktor cleared his throat, his face a little flushed, he didn’t mean to ask like that. “Nevermind that. I’m fine, I’ve just been working from home on something private” 

“Oh I see. Uhm…well is there anything I can do to help?”

“Private, Jayce”

“Right, sorry”

They stood in the doorway in silence for a little longer, Viktor not knowing what to say to Jayce and Jayce trying to read the man’s mind. What was going on, he wasn’t sick, and he worked on private things in the lab before, it wasn’t such a strange thing to have your own work from time to time. 

“Look, I’m sorry I barged in last time, I swear I didn’t see anything”

Viktor stiffened a little more, and looked away from Jayce once more. “Don’t worry about it…..would you like a cup of tea?” He opened the door a little wider for Jayce to come in. 

“No thank you, Mother should be waiting for me to come home tonight and I don’t want to keep her waiting, I just thought I would check in on you first” 

“....thank you” was all Viktor could muster. 

“I’ll see you at the lab later?” 

“Yeah…”

Jayce then turned away from the door and Viktor watched as he left. He couldn’t help but admire him from the back. He was relieved that their awkward conversation was over, though it could have been worse, and slowly closed the door, locking it behind him before returning to the table. As he sat back down he realized his heart was pounding in his chest. He recalled Jayce saying he didn’t see anything, and he hoped maybe he didn’t, but he was sure he had to have. At least he didn’t seem to want to talk about it in detail.

—-

When Viktor returned to the lab Jayce was already hard at work and undistracted at it as well. He wasn’t even sure that he saw him coming in but instead of saying something he simply pulled on his goggles and began working on his own thing. It was quiet, almost awkwardly so. It wasn’t until Jayce said something that Viktor finally snapped back to reality. “Huh? Can you repeat what you said?”

“Could you hand me that?” Jayce motioned for a tool on a desk nearby.

“Sure” Viktor replied, getting up and grabbing the tool for him. He handed it over and looked over his shoulder at what he was working on. “Looks complicated, do you require any assistance?” 

“That would be fantastic actually, if you look over the schematics we might be able to get this finished today, I think the council will be happy for it” 

Viktor moved to his side and looked over the schematics and with a soft “Hmmm” started to set things up for Jayce so that he could continue working, the next thing lined up for him to grab. It went on like this for quite a while until the project was finished, this was how they liked to work. Neither of them even realized how late it was, or how covered in grease they’d become. Once finished they both stepped back from their newest creation to admire it. 

“This will be great, I hope they accept it” Jayce spoke, wiping away sweat from his forehead and leaving behind a little bit of grease as he did. Viktor couldn’t help but stifle a laugh.

“What? What is it?”

“It’s nothing”

“No it’s not, you’re laughing, what are you laughing at?”

“You just..here let me” Viktor grabbed a clean rag and wiped away at his forehead getting most of the grease. “You had some grease on the back of your hand and wiped it across your forehead” 

“Oh Geez, thanks” he replied, feeling stupid that he’d missed something like that.

“No problem. When do you think you’ll present this?”

“Tomorrow hopefully” 

They both looked at the time, it was already tomorrow. They looked back up at each other and laughed, it wasn’t the first or the last time they’d worked all night into the morning. The laughter echoed a little in the lab and Viktor felt like there was a warmth along with it.

“Let's get out of here and get some proper rest then shall we?” Viktor spoke and Jayce nodded in agreement. 

Viktor was happy for another day in the lab, the awkwardness faded as they worked and he seemed to forget what he was feeling awkward about in the first place. He and Jayce both left the lab and went their separate ways. 

In the morning they returned bright and early, Jayce yawning loudly as Viktor put on a pot of coffee to hopefully kickstart their day. He felt like he’d gotten a good nights rest for once, and so did Jayce, but the warm beverage would still be more than welcomed.

Jayce went straight away to the finished project, admiring it from a slight distance. He was sure the council would approve of it and maybe continue funding their projects, or at least that was the hope. Viktor watched from the little kitchenette in their lab as Jayce stood there, hands on his hips. He had some really nice hips, he caught himself thinking, but quickly shook his head and busied himself with finding some clean mugs.Once the coffee was brewed he poured two cups, one for himself and one for Jayce of course, and brought it over to him.

“Here, careful it’s hot”, he said as he handed Jayce his mug.

“Thank you!” Jayce replied, almost immediately taking a sip of the piping hot beverage. Viktor just watched in amazement at how the other didn’t seem to notice the temperature. He looked down at his own coffee and decided it wasn’t worth trying to do the same and began to softly blow on it. They stood in silence together for a moment before Jayce set his mug down on a nearby surface. 

“Well…I should probably ready up for this meeting, they’ll want a demonstration I’m sure”, he spoke suddenly cutting the silence.

“Mmm”, Viktor replied, mid-sip of his coffee and took it as his cue to let the other do his own thing and get on to his own projects. He could hear the other busying himself as he limped away to away to the other side of the lab. He loved that about Jayce, the way he was committed to everything in the laboratory was really commendable. It was an added benefit that he had more social status than he did as well and was willing to attend all sorts of meetings or parties. It wasn’t much Viktor’s style, and he felt Pilover residents all seemed to have their noses up in the air over anyone who wasn’t from there, even if they seemed to be the sweetest of people. So he didn’t often strike up conversation and he’d gotten a reputation as being the quiet of the two scientists. 

Jayce finished getting ready and took his project with him as he left, leaving Viktor once more to the silence of their lab.

—-

Hours after, Jayce returned to the lab looking flushed and happy. “guess what?!” He spoke exictedly and a little loudly. 

Viktor stopped working and raised his goggles feom his eyes as well as an eyebrow, “what? Im guessing good news?”

“Great news! They loved it!! And they are willing to keep paying us for another 6 months!” 

“That is great news indeed! Congratulations Jayce”

“I couldnt have done it without your help” Jayce replied quickly as he started making his way closer to Viktor. “So thank YOU” 

Viktor smiled up at him before realizing he was getting a little closer than usual. “Is everything alright?” 

“Yeah, ive just been thinking lately…”

“That IS a big part of our job” Viktor laughed a little but then Jayce put a hand over his. 

“S-sorry was that not funny?” Viktor asked, removing his hand from under the others but Jayce didnt move away. “Jay?” 

Viktor started to stand when Jayce moved in closer pinning him to the edge of his desk. “Jayce what are you doing?” 

“Being honest with myself for once” Jayce finally spoke as he put a hand on Viktors hip, partly steadying the other but mostly just to touch him. Viktor couldnt help but tense up a little bit at the touch. 

“What do you mean?” Viktor continued, his cheeks beginning to flush. 

“I cant keep playing pretend about how i feel about you Viktor”, Jayce’s grip became a little firmer. “I want you” 

“Theres no way we’d work together” Viktor exclaimed, trying to wiggle out of his grasp. “Were too different you and i, especially me” 

“It doesn’t mean a thing to me if you’re different” Jayce spoke softly to Viktor, his hand cupping his face. 

“Youre just saying that” Viktor replied, “ you wouldnt even begin to understand the differences we own”

“Then indulge me” 

“Why me?” 

“Why not you?” Jayce paused after giving the other some space, “ you’re incredibly handsome and talented not to mention a genius”

Viktors face flushed a little bit, still unable to make eye contact with the other 

“Why wont you look at me?” Jayce spoke softly and Viktor glanced back at him. Both of them reddish in the face. 

“…Jayce youre drunk-“

“I am not entirely drunk but i have had a few drinks tonight, to celebrate if course” he started backing away from the other but stopped, “can i just..can i kiss you?” 

It threw Viktor off. He didnt expect a question like this from Jayce and they sat in silence before Viktor gave a small nod. Jayce split into a wide smile before slowly closing the gap between them, grabbing Viktors chin gently and lifting it as hed still been looking away from him. 

The kiss was gentle, and Viktor felt his entire body get hot before melting against the other. After a moment Jayce pulled away, “was that okay?” 

All Viktor could do was nod back. He was breathless, and he wanted more. If a kiss was all it took to make up his mind on how he felt about the other then that was it. He leaned up, balancing on his crutch and toes to give Jayce another kiss to which the taller man wrapped his arms around Viktors waist pulling him in. There was a loud thwack as Viktors cane hit the ground but they both ignored it, instead opting to making out instead. 

Jayce pushed Viktor up onto the table behind him and Viktor gasped a little before they dove back to each others mouths. A moment later they were both gasping for air and then Jayce did another unexpected action, moving Viktors collar to the side before sucking at his neck.

“Aahhh” Viktor whimpered, he never knew this could feel so nice or how much he wanted it. He could feel his gut tighten with arousal the more the other kissed at him. Jayce took the others whimpers as permission to continue and started to feel the other up a little as well starting at his hips and moving up. It wasnt until hed gotten to Viktors chest that he hesitated, noticing Viktor go a little stiff at the others touch. “Is everything okay?” 

“Y-yeah, ah uhm how do i say this” 

Jayce paused and looked down at the other waiting for him to speak. 

“Jayce im different from you” 

“You said that already, but what do you mean?” 

Viktor began unbuttoning the top of his shirt just enough for his binder to be shown. Jayce thought this was just another brace however. “Yeah i know you wear things for accessibility”

“No its not- “ he sighed, “its a binder Jayce” 

“A binder?”

“For my breasts” Viktor finally spelled it out for him. 

Jayce stepped back just a little, taking in the information. 

“Wait…does this mean-“

“It means im trans Jayce. Im not a real man..”

“Who said you werent?” 

“I- well, most of society”

“Youre just as much a man as i am, regardless of your body. Is this what you meant by differences?” 

“That and my disabilities in general” Viktor sighed, but was happy Jayce didnt seem to be grossed out by the new information. 

“Disabled or not youre not a broken person, youre perfect” Jayce spoke with confidence. 

“Thank you..” 

“So does this mean youll go out with me?” Jayce asked, surprising the older man again. 

“Can i think about it?” Viktor spoke softly not wanting to upset the other.

Jayce just smiled, nodded and gave a kiss on his forehead

—

[More to come]

[schreeuwekster]

A lot of the strength level difference is not just due to muscle mass. Its due to things like skeletal structure, bone densisty, etc. The body cannot do everything at once. The female body is specialised away from strength in order to create, grow, and sustain life through pregnancy and breastfeeding and recover from that physically traumatic event quickly. The male body is specialised towards strength and endurance to protect the female and their young. It's really a case of biological dimorphism at it's core.

Muscle mass isn't a thing in isolation. It's dependant on a lot of things - how does the body want to grow muscle, store fat, how do their hormones work. The fact that women who work out at insane levels and have a low body fat percentage literally lose their fertility *is* an indicator that it isn't in line with our natural functioning.

Prehistoric men also would have been stronger than modern male athletes. The human species - across the board - shifted to a more intelligent, specialised species.

Women aren't men. That's ok. We can do a lot of things they can't. Besides the obvious creation of life, we are better able to tolerate pain, we heal quicker - especially if you've had children. You get some of their stemcells through the umbillical cord and they can heal you in ways men cannot heal themselves. Our hormone cycles actually protect our brains from degradation. Etc.

You shouldn't compare the sexes with 1 or the other being the "golden standard" the other needs to meet. It doesn't work that way.

Besides that, malnutrition doesn't affect you in one way in isolation either. If you're so malbourished your body loses the ability to built on muscle mass *as it should* other systems are going to fail too. You wouldn't just see a decline in strength, you'd see a starker decline in non-essential things such as hairloss, skin quality, etc. And damage to essential systems, most notably on such a large time frame, fertility. This did not happen.

Most assinine of all, is the presumption that your modern experience of diet culture is representative of large scale history - possibly to the early history of society but explicitly "5000 odd years". For the fast majority of human history, we were dealing with food scarcity and a constant risk of malnutrition for both sexes. We weren't concerned with slimming down our women. We were concerned with them surviving through childbirth. Beautystandards aren't even universal geographically, and you think they are universal throughout all history? In the 1500 the plague was still a real risk. Most people were subsistance farmers. And the elite liked their women pale and plump cause it showed they were of the wealthy leisure class. At absolute best, slimming down became a concern in the early modern times, 1800 at the earliest. And the ideal figure was created more by illusion of clothing sillouete than by physical reality. And only a small subsection of society would go to extremes (tighlacing was not normal, for example).

Even if you want to claim that the resulting dieting culture would be real enough that women have been dieting obsessively for 2000 years, that's nothing on an evolutionary scale and would not change the female sex of the species fundamentally.

Instead of rewriting history and biology, come to terms with the fact that you are what you are, quit comparing yourself to what you are not, and face any internalised anxiety and hatred (in either direction) you may have regarding that fact. And most notably, put down the phone and go outside.

how much of the strength divide between males n female is truly biological and how much is the result of epigenetic trauma from the worldwide comparative starvation of female children for thousands of years?

[harpersdragons]

Theft in the Family, Chapter 7

This is the final chapter, and I’m a little sad it’s over. This was fun to write, definitely one of my favorites.

Words: 3448

The rest of the weekend passes peacefully. Jason and Damian run out to grab some groceries—dressing in old league gear, since he guarantees the Bats will still be looking for him. League gear is still conspicuous, to the Bats and civilians alike, but the hope was Gotham is weird enough most people wouldn’t bat an eye.

They spend the rest of their time in peace at the small cabin, reading (he’d picked up another book or two as well) and just generally taking a rest day.

By the end of the night, Jason felt suitably relaxed—despite the bone-deep exhaustion. He still hadn’t slept near enough in the past couple of days.

Jason is cleaning up the kitchen—making sure everything is in order so they can leave early in the morning—when he feels Damian lightly tug at his sleeve.

“What’s up, Habibi?”

“You are coming with me tomorrow, correct?”

Jason glances down, seeing Damian’s wide, hopeful eyes. He smiles softly. “Well, I have to take you there, don’t I? You can’t get all the way there by yourself.”

“No, you are coming in with me, you are staying.”

Jason sighs and crouches down to level with him. “Dames, I can’t stay, we’ve been over this. Bruce doesn’t want me. Even if he did, I’ve made too many mistakes. I’ve killed, hell, I took you from him. He’s not gonna let me back in his home.”

Damian stares at him consideringly, his green eyes narrowing in thought. “Well if that’s the case, he doesn’t want me either.” He crosses his arms over his chest. “I’ve killed! My body count is almost as high as yours!”

And if that doesn’t make Jason despair for this child—

“It’s different, bud. You were, are, a child. You didn’t have a choice. I, on the other hand…” He trails off, staring at some point of Damian’s shoulder.

He doesn’t regret his decisions, not really.

Crime Alley will only respond to one thing: more violence.

It’s taken over so completely, simply following the Bat’s plan and locking criminals away and hoping for reform, it would never work.

The only way to change Crime Alley is to fight fire with fire. The gang leaders, the instigators of the violence, speak one language. He must respond in kind.

He has to protect the innocents there, the ones who are stuck in the vicious cycle.

He gives chances to those who deserve it.

He protects the kids, the ones who are cast aside by the rest of society as worthless, just because they are from Crime Alley.

He became who he needed when he was a kid.

So no, he doesn’t regret it.

He does miss his family. He regrets that his decisions have severed any connection he might have been able to have.

Though, some may argue that his death had already done that.

Or before that, when Bruce flat out told him he’s not Jason’s father.

Jason does not have a family.

Not anymore.

Except Damian.

Jason shakes himself back to his conversation. “I can try, kid, but I can’t guarantee it’ll go well. I can’t guarantee I’ll stay longer than brunch.”

Damian brightens, ducks in for a quick hug, and then darts off. Jason smiles to himself as he gets back to cleaning.

He wants to get to the manor early, early enough no one but Alfred will be awake.

It’s not until much later that night, when he’s laying in bed unable to sleep, that the reality sinks in of what he just agreed to.

He just agreed to turn himself in.

He’s turning himself in, in a couple hours, to the man who can—and probably will—lock him in Arkham.

He’s agreed to submit himself to the rejection, to the pain of being told he’s not family, of seeing his family lock him in a cell, in the same building as his murderer.

He takes a shaky breath, looking down at Damian’s still form. The kid isn’t in a cuddly mood, so he’s curled up on the other side of the bed.

He’ll do it. He’ll do anything for Damian, but the weight of knowing what’s about to happen settles in him, makes it impossible to sleep.

He spends the rest of the night staring at the ceiling, counting down until they have to leave.

Brunch is at 11, but everyone will start waking up and filtering into the kitchen around ten. Alfred will start preparing food around 8:30 or nine. Jason will probably aim to be there at seven, so they should leave around 6:30 if they’re taking the (stolen) car.

Jason prods Damian out of bed at promptly six in the morning, having been out of bed himself for a while and making breakfast. He guides the sleepy kid to the kitchen, cleaning up his mess as Damian eats. Before they leave, Jason methodically puts his gear and weapons on. Bruce may have an idea of who he is, but that doesn’t mean he has to confirm it.

By the time they get to the manor, Damian is nearly asleep again. He ends up picking Damian up and carrying him to the door, steeling himself before knocking.

He’s had hours to come to terms with his fate.

He’ll survive, Arkham is a revolving door. If he gets locked up, he can break out.

He takes one more steadying breath before the door opens, and Alfred stands before him. The older man’s face softens as he takes in Damian practically asleep on Jason’s shoulder. He ushers the two indoors, shutting the door behind them.

Jason makes to walk straight to the kitchen, only to be stopped by Alfred’s raised eyebrow. “Now I know you remember our weapons rule, Master Jason. Kindly disarm and leave your weapons on the table.”

He did remember. However, walking into the kitchen and facing the Bats completely weaponless is the last thing he wants to do right now.

“Sorry, Alfie.” Jason sets Damian down, then begins unstrapping all his obvious weapons—that is to say, only his swords and guns, and maybe one additional knife. Maybe he can get away with a few concealed ones.

Alfred clears his throat just as Jason steps away. “Am I to expect this is all you’re carrying right now?”

Jason turns back sheepishly, though most of his expression is covered by his mask. “Yeah?”

Alfred pins him with an unimpressed look. “Hm. I expect at least 5 more weapons on that table.”

Jason deflates, and takes out a few more knives. That’s most of what he’s carrying, he has a few darts and shurikens, plus an additional switchblade, but that’s not near enough to be comfortable.

“Hm.” Alfred finally turns and heads towards the kitchen, gently guiding Damian along. “Ideally you’d lose that suit too, but I suppose that’s too much to ask. I hope you aren’t expecting a fight, because I’d hate for the kitchen to need remodeling.”

“They don’t know my identity yet.”

“And so the full suit is required?” Alfred leads Damian into the living room, quietly instructing the child to lay down on the couch.

“Alfie…” Jason’s heart rate picks up at Damian leaving his line of sight, but he doesn’t protest. And yes, the full suit is required.

“Fine, fine. I expect you all to be on your best behavior.”

“Tell that to the Old Man…” Jason mutters.

“Now I know I taught you to speak clearly, young man.”

Jason clears his throat, then speaks up, “Nothing. Sorry, Alfie.”

“That’s what I thought.”

“Do you want help preparing the crepes?”

“That would be lovely, my boy, it has been far too long since I had competent help in the kitchen.”

Jason smiles under his mask, and carefully sheds his gloves and cloak, leaving them on a chair. Alfred’s eyes catch on his mangled fingertips—side effect from digging his way out of the pine box—but they move on quickly.

It’s easy to fall into a rhythm with Alfred again, and it’s not long before they have the crepes prepared and all that’s left are toppings. He smirks as he makes Bruce’s plate, throwing the butter and lemon on haphazardly, then carefully sprinkling the sugar in a distinctive outline.

Alfred frowns disapprovingly at him, but otherwise doesn’t say anything. Jason sets the plate at the head of the table, where Bruce has sat as long as Jason has known him, and returns to help Alfred with the rest of the plates.

He takes a lot more care with his brother’s plate—despite Dick’s monstrosity of a topping choice—especially Damian’s. He painstakingly picks out all the blueberries from the fruit mixture, much to Alfred’s amusement.

Damian wanders in as they finish laying out the plates, coming straight to Jason and burying his face in his side. Jason wraps one arm around his shoulders as he helps Alfred clean up.

Bruce comes in next, heading straight to the coffee machine and almost tripping over Damian.

Jason scoops his brother up and glares at Bruce, grumbling as he retreats out of his way. It takes a laughable amount of time for Bruce to become aware of the additional people in his kitchen.

He’s been leaning against the counter, practically glaring at his coffee, before he seems to startle and realize Jason’s standing across from him with Damian on his hip. Bruce directs his glare at Jason, and snatches Damian from his grasp—attempts to, anyway. Damian tightens his grip on Jason’s neck and lets out a muffled whine at being pulled away.

“Back off, jackass.” Jason growls. “I brought him back, take what you can get.”

“Language, Master Ja—” Alfred’s voice is sharp as the reprimand cuts off.

Bruce’s gaze sharpens as he glances from Alfred to Jason.

“What is going on here?”

“Your son has been returned to you, safe and sound, Master Bruce. Focus on that and go sit down.”

Bruce’s demeanor sours further, somehow, and he sulks over to his chair.

Jason rubs Damian’s back gently. “Time to wake up, kid, it’s almost time for brunch.” Damian shakes his head, trying to burrow deeper into Jason’s hold. “C’mon, you love crepes. There are no blueberries, I promise.”

Damian makes a huffing sound, but doesn’t move.

“Work with me here, Habibi, they’re gonna think I drugged you.”

“Well if I wasn’t before, now I am.” Bruce interrupts.

That finally gets a reaction out of Damian, who shoves out of Jason’s grip and flips to the floor. He levels a scathing glare at his father, a near perfect imitation of Bruce’s own glare. He doesn’t say a word as he takes a seat at the table, eyeing the bowl of blueberries set out suspiciously.

Jason chuckles as he crosses the room, ruffling his brother’s hair. “I made sure there were no blueberries on yours.”

“Tt.”

Bruce glances from his plate, to Alfred, and finally to Jason.

“You are Jason.”

“For fuck’s sake, can we not?”

Bruce sighs, all traces of anger dissipating. He pushes out of his chair and steps towards Jason until they’re nose to nose. “Take your mask off.”

Jason raises his chin, refusing to back down. “No.”

“Jason…”

“No. You don’t get to boss me around, Old Man. I’m pretty sure you have a few other birds around here that just looveee taking orders. I did my time.” Jason almost flinched at the words coming out of his own mouth. That sounded too close to reminding Bruce he should be locked up.

“Robin,” Bruce growls. “Take off your mask.”

Jason does flinch this time. “The fuck? I’m not fuckin’ Robin!” He shoves at Bruce’s chest, trying to create space between them.

Bruce goes easily, his posture softening. “My robin, my son. Always.”

Jason tilts his head, watching Bruce for a second. Then he turns and walks out the backdoor, into the garden. He keeps walking, heading deeper into the woods surrounding the property. At some point, he stops and hoists himself into a tree.

Fuck Bruce.

Fuck them all.

Except Damian, of course, but that was obvious.

How can Bruce call him son now?

How, when he refused to acknowledge Jason was his son before he died?

Jason’s not a Wayne now, maybe never was, but he’s not the boy he was when he died. Whatever he is now, he’s just the monster that crawled out of the grave.

Jason picks at a thread in his pants, staring absently into the distance. At some point, he hears Bruce calling his name and looks down. He’s standing under the tree, looking pleadingly up at Jason.

“Fuck off.”

“Jason, please, can we talk about this?”

Jason doesn’t answer, petulantly ignoring Bruce. He doesn’t know how long he sits in his tree, but eventually he’s dragged out of his head by a sickening cracking sound. He stiffens, trying to minimize his movement, while also looking for a way to grab another branch.

He can’t find one, and just as the branch gives way underneath him, Jason pushes off and tucks into a roll as lands.

A hand grabs his arm and yanks, and Jason prepares for the fight, readies himself for blows. He swings, but another arm pins his hands to his sides and tugs him into Bruce’s chest. Jason struggles for a second, before he goes lax. Bruce shifts his grip, letting Jason’s arms go. One of his arms comes up to clutch at Jason’s head, the other wrapping firmly around his waist.

Jason buries his face in his father’s shoulder, arm’s gripping desperately at his soft sleep shirt.

“Sh…Jaylad, I got you. No need for apologies, you’re alright.”

Jason didn’t even know he was speaking, let alone mumbling ‘I’m sorry’ repeatedly into Bruce’s shoulder.

After a bit, Bruce tugs gently at Jason’s hair, pulling his head back enough to make eye contact. “Can I take your masks off?”

Jason shrugs, averting his gaze. “Might as well.”

Bruce carefully unlatches the half mask, then peels the domino off. His thumbs skate over Jason’s cheeks, tears brimming in his eyes. “You’re home.” His voice is soft, reverent.

Something in Jason breaks a little, and he dives back into his father’s hold.

“Just…just don’t put me next to him. Please.” Jason doesn’t know if Bruce heard him, or understood him with the way his face is pressed into his neck.

He can feel Bruce tense under him.

Shit, shit, shit, he shouldn’t have asked, shouldn’t have reminded him—

“What?” Bruce tries to pull him back again, but Jason resists, gripping him tighter. “What are you talking about, Jay?’

“In Arkham…preferably you’d put me in Blackgate or somethin’, but just…just don’t put me next to the clown. Please.” Jason’s voice cracks and gets thicker with the tears in his eyes.

Bruce inhales sharply, “No, no, I’m not locking you up. I just got you back, sweetheart, what makes you think I’d willingly lose you again?” He tightens his grip, lowering them to the ground.

Jason grips even tighter, fighting against the tears and the sobs trying to break out. “You…you didn’t want me…”

“I do, I do, Jay, Sweetheart. I promise, you are welcome here. I want you to stay here with us. Why do you think I don’t?”

“You said you weren’t my father, and then I died, and I’m not that same boy, and you didn’t even want him, so how could you want me?”

“I messed up big time, then, but I promise you. You are my son, and I want you here. You understand? I don’t care how much you’ve changed, you came back. I will always be grateful for that.”

They stay like that for a while, and eventually Alfred comes out to get them.

“While I’m glad you two have worked out your differences, without bloodshed, might I add, the food has long since gone cold, and I must insist you come inside.”

They both stand together, Jason’s masks dangling from one of Bruce’s hands. The other arm is wrapped tightly around his son’s shoulders. They enter the kitchen together, and Dick and Tim have finally made their way downstairs. Dick is happily munching on his spinach and pesto monstrosity of a crepe.

Damian gets out of his seat and comes over to them, glancing from Jason’s tear stained face to Bruce’s. “You’re upset.”

Jason tugs him closer, “I’m good, kid, I promise.” C’mon, let’s go eat.” Jason and Bruce take their seats, and Jason feels true peace, for the first time in a very long time.

After, once the kitchen is clean and everyone’s moved to the family room, and Jason has taken off his armor and stripped to his undersuit, he asks Bruce how he found out who he was. Everyone’s sprawled out on various furniture, Dick is aggressively cuddling Damian. He’d mouthed at Jason to let him know he was next, but he’s not too worried. He can always tickle him to get him off. Jason is half laying on Bruce, letting his dad hold him again.

“It was a bunch of little things. The way you spoke, the way you protected Damian. I could see your influence on Damian’s mannerisms, plus he had your book, that I thought for sure was lost in Ethiopia. You called me Old Man, your reactions are the same. It just took me a second to put it together. The final straw, though, was the crepes. Alfred would never let them look that sloppy, especially not when everyone else’s were perfect. And you wrote out ‘FU’ in sugar, Jay, it was pretty obvious.” Bruce hugged him closer. “Alfred would never, and the list of people he allows in the kitchen is short. My very hurt, very angry son being one of them, well, he would.”

Jason let his head fall on Bruce’s shoulder, slumping down into his father.

“I don’t think I can stay here all the time. I don’t know if I can stand to stay here at all.”

Bruce sighs, “That’s ok, but you have a room here if you ever want it.”

“I want Damian some weekends. I can’t just leave him.”

“He has to have some stability, Jay, we can’t uproot his life all the time.”

“I refuse to leave him behind!” Jason struggles to sit up, his outburst drawing the attention of the others in the room.

“Then visit him here!”

“You don’t get full custody of him! I practically raised him! If you don’t agree, I’ll just randomly kidnap him.” He crosses his arms stubbornly.

“I would let him, Father.” Damian pipes up.

Bruce just sighs. “Fine. We can talk about it. Later.” He tugs Jason back into his arms, “I seem to remember saying you haven’t been sleeping. Time to remedy that.”

Jason huffs. “I’m fine, asshole. Not even tired.”

That’s a bold faced lie, but they don’t need to know that.

Bruce pins him with a disbelieving look. “Right. And I’m Superman.”

Dick snorts, “You wish.”

“Not helping, Dick.”

“Wasn’t trying to.”

“Come on, Jay, just take a nap. You’re safe here, Damian’s safe here.”

Jason deflates, “Maybe a little one. But I have to leave soon!”

“How did you get here?” Tim asks.

“The car? Did y’all not notice it or something?”

“Car? What car?” Dick sits up, almost letting go of Damian. “Wait. You stole the car?”

“Y’mean my car? Yeah, I took it. Security was shit, by the way. It was super easy to get in here.”

“You had Barbara’s help.” Dick deadpans.

Bruce smiles at his kids, watching them bicker.

“Same difference.”

“Better not let her hear you say that.” Tim contributes.

“Anyway. Yeah, I took my car.” Jason leans back, further into Bruce. (Sue him, the man is comfortable). “Oh, B, one more thing.” He twists to face his father.

“Yeah, Jaylad?” The look on Bruce’s face is stupidly fond.

“Do not put Damian in the Robin suit until he is at least—and I mean the very minimum age—14. 16 is preferable. He can train, I don’t give a shit, he’s gonna do that anyway. But if you let him in the field, I’m shooting you and taking him with me.”

“Hey, I was Robin at eight!” Dick glares at Jason.

“Yeah and look how you turned out.” Jason glares right back. “I mean it, Bruce.”

“Wasn’t planning on it, besides, Tim is Robin until he decides for himself that he’s done with it.”

“Good.”

WIth that, Jason relaxes and lets himself doze off, surrounded by family, and totally at peace. There’s still a lot to work out, but for now, it’s enough. Damian is out of the League’s hands, Jason was somehow welcomed home, everyone is content. It’s better than he could have imagined.

[epickiya722]

There's always gonna be like one or two characters that I'm a fan of, but dislike some of their fans and out of all characters in BNHA... I never would have thought it would be Spinner.

[iced-ilex]

Thinking about a moment from WhataBarbpod where they question how often is Colin in the Featherington household and now all I can think about is an AU where Colin realizes he’s in love with Penelope much earlier, but Pen isn’t out to society yet but he still wants to see her so they claim to just be friends so that he can get away with seeing her more and I NEED THIS NOW

[crossbackpoke-check]

yOu'Re gOiNg fOr a LiTeR? | "Habs react to Quebec Maple facts", 10.22.24

[toddtakefive]

btw todd’s reluctance to join the dps because he doesn’t want to read (which is then accommodated for) and is scared to put himself out there (which is also worked through) being read as todd not wanting to go AT ALL, and thus neil making the proper accommodations (“todd anderson, who prefers not to read, will keep the minutes of the meetings”) and encouraging him to step out of the box that stifles him being seen as ‘forceful’ or like he can’t take no for an answer makes me insane with rage

[magnusmodig]

ovo whispers menacingly abt his grandstanding .

[petorahs]

personal opinion i dont think akechi's a tsundere i feel like he's just inexperienced in receiving genuine deep intimate affection from someone he values. his first response was to turn away and run you'd be kinda hard pressed to see him flustered in any capacity actually. bro would literally rather die than be seen vulnerable 😭

[angorwhosebabyisthis]

analyzing hermes, emet-selch, the ancients and ascians, how they're written, and the fandom's reaction to them be like hm. emet-selch's role in this fuckery is compounded by the fact that his backstory as a genocide survivor is incongruous with his ruling a huge genocidal colonialist world power in the present da [ANTISEMITISM BLAST]

[arolesbianism]

Guys why is rain world so good (<- rewatched some scenes and teared up on all of them)

[boypussydilf]

How many others are there like the keroro platoon. Or dark keroro (in my mind at least I’m not sure what the writers intentions fr what hes doing after movie 3 are). Ppl who got in the keron army and then somewhere along the line find out. Oh you can. NOT. Do that? There are other options for how to live your life than just. Go be part of an endless machine of military expansion? Or even the Garuru platoon. Not all of them are EXCITED about making up shit to make the keroro platoon look better than they are but that’s just bc of like, personal grudges, even though they have all appearances of being a bunch of fairly model soldiers they’re all just willingly lying to the military to let the Failure Platoon with No Plans To Invade keep Not doing their jobs. How many others do you think there are. Who went Man. This is stupid. Let’s do something else.

[snekdood]

I think in the whole convo around why its hard to make friends today really understimates how technology has essentially ripped peoples masks off to show how toxic they can become and how repelling and even scary it can be interacring with ppl bc of it. Bc of tiktok. Bc of ppl filming you secretly. Bc the "bullying is good, actually" people. Literally that video of that lady lying to her neighbor and then the neighbor confronted her and she gaslighted the neighbor like. You might laugh but deep down you know youd never hang out w that person on a deep level. You know that person would just be toxic. At this point being alone seems more appealing bc you dont have to risk all this weird bullshit. Its almost worth the touch starvation n all the other physical and mental bullshit that comes w loneliness n shit if every friend geoup is going to try to eventually moralize their hate of you and kick you out of a friend geoup for being too "cringe" and then put you on blast online and then all the commentors just laugh and dont think deeply about the situation bc theyre just there to laugh and are prolly just as fuckin toxic. Like we got a real issue here yall. Wtf is going on. Ppl in my generation are so fucking unlikeable.