#thinking about all the people who have harmed me and how i Still feel so much love for all of them

[thousandyearphantombunker]

If you want to fight for representation maybe don't fucking antagonize artists/writers who fight for it because "it's not good enough!"

Entitled people with ridiculous bullshit expectations like this hold back representation so much

Like I could throw all that criticism toward Legend Of Korra and Steven Universe back at TOH and other shows like it when it comes to disabled representation- "its only coding! It's not outright stated! Eda's curse turns her into a monster! Wahhh" I've stated I don't like how TOH handled disability but I'm so happy it exists because hopefully we'll open up more story telling that explores disability through the perspective of disabled characters themselves rather than a bunch of able bodied neurotypical people writing/regurgitating the same inspiration porn bullshit

I'm not saying we can't criticize these shows (SU and LoK have issues that deserve to be discussed) but creators working on them fought so hard just to get moments like Korra and Asami getting together, for the first lesbian wedding on a children's show. New shows get to flex that they have these characters because other shows like Legend of Korra punched through barriers to give them space- they didn't have space so they made some! You can criticize SU and LoK like I said- SU has serious issues with Filler and some botched ass morals and LoK could be shallow in some parts but if you try and flex on them because new shows have an easier time with gay representation your a fucking idiot- your new shows wouldn't exist without these ones

But no. It's never blunt/explicit enough, it's too problematic because xyz', it's not representing every single facet of our experiences so it must be bad.

Also the gems being nonbinary/genderless just adds another layer to LGBT representation

Are y'all gonna attack TOH because Raine is nonbinary and their relationship with Eda "doesn't count"

I'm done being polite. You can criticize rep and call out harmful things in fiction without erasing the importance of these stories

Steven Universe: Eh, I don't really feel like saying "girlfriend" or "wife". Maybe they're together. They have a special connection...

(gets violently shoved aside)

The Loud House/Craig of the Creek/The Owl House: Pfft, amateur. "My GIRLFRIEND Sam and I..." "I'm texting my GIRLFRIEND, mind your business." "Luz's new GF showed her..."

[cheshireliam]

"Wrapped in Wicked Romance" Story Event: Chapter 1

Ring Schwartz

This is a fan-made translation solely for entertainment purposes with no guaranteed perfection; expect mistakes, grammatical errors, and some creative liberties. All original content and media used belongs to Cybird. Please support the game by buying their stories and playing their games. Reblogs appreciated.

Read this before interacting

Kate: Why did you… kill them…?

Ring: “Why”...? Is it not natural? 

Ring: I’ll kill anyone as long as Dari orders me to.

His face, splattered with blood, showed not even the slightest bit of doubt about the murder he just committed.

It was at that moment when I finally realised it.

He, too— was utterly evil. 

…

One night, I stumbled upon a secret I never should've known, which led to me becoming Fairytale Keeper for a month.

A week after, Vogel, an organisation consisting of Cursed Ones similar to Crown, appeared and seemed to be hiding something. 

…

A few days after my encounter with them, I was called upon by Vogel’s chief— Darius. 

Darius: I’ve heard about it. To deepen your understanding of Crown’s members, you became their lover for a day.

Darius: We want you to do the same thing with us. The kind Miss Fairytale Keeper will surely agree to it, right? 

Unable to make the decision on my own, I quickly went to discuss it with Victor. 

…

Victor: Lovers for a day with Vogel? 

Kate: Yes. They also mentioned that they want me to show them around the city at the same time. 

Victor: I see… I don't have a problem with that arrangement. I happen to also have been thinking about giving them a tour of the city. 

Victor: What are your thoughts, Kate?

Kate: I… I can't stop thinking about what Harrison said to me that day. 

Victor: That Vogel is lying, is it?

Victor: I understand your concern, but we still can’t say for certain whether their lies are harmful to Crown. 

Victor: I doubt that they would be so reckless as to harm you in this situation. Therefore… 

Victor: The most important factor we should consider is what you want to do.

…

(What I want to do…?) 

(Victor did say he'd turn them down if I don't feel comfortable, but…)

(Since I’m going to have interactions with Vogel as a Fairytale Keeper, I’m personally curious about what kind of people the three of them are.) 

(So in order to find out… I’ll accept this request.)

(But before that…)

Kate: Excuse me, who is that tailing me? 

Ever since I left Victor’s office, I’ve had the gut feeling that someone was following behind me. 

When I voiced it out, a man emerged from the shadows.

Kate: Ring…? 

I called his name, although I still wasn't used to doing that because he only said very recently that I could address him as such without the use of salutations. 

Ring: Y-you misunderstood. I didn't mean to tail you today.

Ring: There’s something I want to ask you about… I just couldn't figure out when to approach you.

Kate: … Something you want to ask?

Ring: I wanted to ask who you’re choosing to be your lover for a day. 

Kate: Umm… and what do you intend to do with that information? 

Ring: Depending on whether you choose Nica or Dari, I’ll need to change my route and method for being their escort for security purposes. 

Ring: With the close, intimate distance of being “lovers”... who knows what tricks you’ll pull on the two of them. 

It appeared that Ring was wary of me and planned to protect them regardless of who I chose.

(Hm? But in that case…) 

Kate: What happens to the whole escort planning thing if I choose you to be my “lover”?

Ring: ME!? 

Ring: I- I don’t understand… Normally, either Nica or Dari would be chosen for this sort of thing. You don't need to consider such a possibility. 

Kate: But Darius said to choose “one member from Vogel”. 

Kate: So choosing you isn't a problem, right?

Ring: I-it’s a HUGE problem…! M-me as your l-lo-lov-lover…!? 

… Initially, I asked the question because I was genuinely curious how he intended to go about the escorting. 

But seeing Ring turning bright red and panicking sparked a mischievous impulse in me.

Kate: I’ve decided! I’m choosing you as my lover for a day.

Ring: WHAT!? You absolutely CANNOT do that! 

Darius: Really? I think that's a wonderful idea, though. 

The voice cutting into our exchange was Darius, who happened to be passing by.

Ring: D-Dari… why?

Darius: Somehow, it sounds like it’d be interesting. 

Ring: But what if she “cajoles¹” me into doing her bidding…!? 

¹ The word for “cajole” is 篭絡 (ろ��らくrōraku). Here, when Ring’s says it, it was written in hiragana as “ろーらく” to express that his pronunciation of the word wasn't very accurate; possibly because his first language is german and not english. 

Darius: You know such a complex phrase as “cajole”? Good job, good job. 

Darius: But don’t worry. Miss Fairytale Keeper could never be a threat to us.

Darius: Have I ever been wrong about such things? 

Ring: … Never.

Darius: Then there's no problem at all. 

Darius: Go on, Ring. Pass auf dich auf (have a great day²). 

² For the record, I don't understand German at all. I’m only translating based on the Japanese translation provided by the game in the form of furigana.

As soon as Darius said something to him in their native language, Ring became obedient like a well-trained guard dog. 

Ring: … Alles klar (understood). 

…

The next day, I became Ring’s lover for a day and was tasked to give him a tour of the city.

Kate: I look forward to spending the day with you. 

Ring: … Oh, uh, yeah. Dari ordered me to “pretend to be Miss Fairytale Keeper’s lover for a day”. 

Ring: Going on a… d… da… date… with you… I- I’ll do it just fine. Just you watch…! 

(Ring looks extremely nervous…)

I was a little nervous myself, but seeing how tense he was actually made me feel better. 

Ring: S-so… the first destination is The Scala, right?

Kate: Yes. Since it’s a date, I decided to take you to some of my favourite places today. 

Kate: We could take a carriage there, but the weather is pleasant today. Shall we walk instead?

Ring: … Got it. Also, um… 

Ring looked like there was something he wanted to say as he stretched his right arm out in my direction. 

Kate: …?

Ring: Ah! No… nothing. T-this is just me warming up! 

He pulled his arm back and started rolling his shoulders in circles.

[everlastingdreams]

The Weeping Monk x Fem!Reader : Forged Of Fire Chapter 29

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

Story Summary: Raised under the tiranny of your own family, and forced to steal to earn your keep, you struggle to survive. Born from a Fey mother, and a Manblood father who wanted only sons, you are forced to hide your Fey side. When you are ordered to steal from Father Carden by your half-brother, Cassian, your life spirals out of control and you find yourself at the mercy of the Weeping Monk. The life you knew changes drastically when Cassian betrays you in the cruelest of ways. A trade is made, a promise is broken, and a debt must be paid.

Chapter Title: Shattered

Notes: /

Warnings: Angst. Hurt. Trauma bonding. Intrafamily violence. Depression. Self-harm. Suicidal thoughts. Violence. Torture. Gore. Pining. Trauma. Self-Flagellation. Manipulation. Strong Language. Blood. Misogyny. PTSD. Spicy and smut parts. Slight redemption arc. Lima/Stockholm syndrom-ish. Childhood trauma.

Other warnings: Jealousy. Forced Marriage. Forbidden Love. Romance. Slow-burn. Found Familly-ish. Comfort. Fluff. !SMUT and SPICE!

Word count of this fic: +250K

Chapter:  29/47

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As the hours passed riding through the forest, Gawain and Lancelot explained how they met. The sellswords had taken Percival onto the carriage that had brought you to Morrowstead as well, but they had pushed him out of the carriage in a random village. Lancelot had searched for hours and found him in the presence of the Green Knight who had been searching for Percival for quite some time. At first the meeting between the men had not been very comfortable, but after Percival told about everything that had happened the knight gave Lancelot a slice of his trust that had been earned by saving the boy. Not one word you spoke, finding comfort in hearing the three of them speak instead.

Gawain was discussing a plan with Lancelot. “Gramaire should still be safe for us. It will take us perhaps a day or two to reach it. We should avoid the common roads for now, the Trinity Guard will be searching for us all.”

Lancelot nodded. “We ride until evening now. Then find us a place to rest.”

They looked in your direction but you avoided meeting their eyes, some peace and quiet was all you needed to process what had happened and they could tell.

Gawain turned his eyes back to Lancelot. “You must understand, Lancelot, that when we do arrive in Gramaire my friends will not react well to your arrival. I will speak for your good intentions, but I make no promises. Until now you have only shown them to fear you, you’ve killed our people. What you do with the chance I give you will be what defines you now. Will you be our greatest enemy, or our greatest warrior?”

Lancelot swallowed hard and was quiet for a few seconds. “I swore to Percival that I would help the Fey, it is a vow I intend to keep.”

Gawain sounded uncertain, but hopeful, “Good. Now all we must hope for is that my friends will believe it when I tell them that.”

Lancelot knew how small the odds were. “If I am shunned away, then I will be content if only Percival and her will have sanctuary there.”

For the first time in hours, you spoke, “If you think you can just abandon me, you’re mistaken.”

Lancelot turned to look at you over his shoulder. “The possibility of them welcoming me is small, or dare I say non-existent. But there is no reason for you to be send away, it would be-”

It came out sharper than you intended, because you were feeling tired, “Stop it, Lancelot. I choose not to stay in a place where you are not welcome.”

Gawain send Lancelot a curious look, which the Ash Man pretended not to see. The knight couldn’t help but notice how the former Weeping Monk was so quick to surrender to you.

The knight got too curious to hold back the question burning in him. “Lancelot told me that you were half-Fey, Ash Folk, is that true?”

You gave a nod. “My father, Aldith, was Manblood. My mother, Iridessa, was Ash Folk. I didn’t know of my Fey heritage until I fell as a child and saw the marks beneath my eyes appear in a puddle of rain.”

Gawain was quick to understand the situation you had been in. “Did you hide it?”

“I had to.” you said. “You’ve seen what happened when Aldith knew of what I am.”

Gawain spoke to Lancelot. “Father Carden wanted her because she was, like you, Ash Folk?”

“Yes. She is the only one I have seen since I was a boy.” Lancelot said.

The knight hummed. “That fire in the forest. Was that you or her? You know what that was, do you not?”

“I know.” Lancelot fidgeted with the reins. “I believe I caused the fire.”

“You did.” you blurted out.

The Ash Man shook his head a little at the comment. “I had no control over it. It never happened before. I thought only she could create Fey Fire.”

“Can you do it again?” Percival was enthusiastic about it.

You let your thoughts slip out quietly. “Someone may have to hit me again for that…”

Lancelot’s fidgeting got worse, so he placed a hand on the pommel of his sword instead.

“Your connection to the Hidden strengthened when you sought help in helping her.” Gawain stated at seeing Lancelot’s reaction.

The Ash Man appeared a bit self-conscious. “I heard them reach out for me. I just did not expect for the fire to happen, it ran through my veins and into existence.”

“The Old Gods will aid the Fey.” Gawain said. “What baffles me is that they seem to be strongly connected to you and her.”

“They helped Nimue!” Percival pointed out.

Gawain tensed up, his expression of sorrow alarmed the boy who had looked back at him just then. The knight knew that what he had heard about Nimue would break the boy’s heart, much like it had broken his own.

  ~“Percival… I have something difficult to tell you.”~

    ~~~♡~~~♡~~~♤~~~♡~~~♡~~~

  Hours had passed and only one time during the whole ride had you taken a pause to eat some fruits that Gawain had with him in his horse’s saddlebag. During that long pause, Gawain took Percival aside and told the boy that his friend, Nimue, had not survived an attack by the waterfall at Uther’s camp. You sat with the boy as he went through very different stages of grief. Disbelief, anger, but the worst was the sorrow that came upon him. The boy spilled his heart out, speaking of Nimue the Fey queen who was branded the Wolf-Blood Witch by the Church and how she had fought so hard to protect the Fey. Lancelot was able to hear who this girl was that he had been commanded to find and kill, a girl and not the monster or witch they claimed her to be. A girl who was brave and kind, a girl who had wielded the Sword of Power to protect her people. Trading her life for safe passage for the Fey, away from these lands. After hearing all Percival and Gawain said about her, you found yourself mourning her too.

Lancelot was uncomfortable, ridden with guilt. Gawain could tell and had taken him aside to talk, but you could not hear what was said between them. Whatever had been said between them, it must have helped Lancelot handle what troubled him. It took hours before Percival was calm enough again to continue traveling, his eyes were red from crying and his nose still often dripped. The boy was very quiet during the next hours that had passed.

When the evening sun could barely be seen through the dark clouds, and rain threatened to soak your clothes, the search for shelter for the night began and it was Gawain who spotted a cave. The entrance of it was large enough for the horses to enter as well, the cave was not very deep, but it was enough to keep the horses and yourselves out of the rain.

Gawain searched and found a thick branch to use as a torch to take into the cave, he held it out to Lancelot. “Could you light it?”

Lancelot shook his head. “I have no control over-”

“You have a flint.” Gawain clarified.

Once Lancelot had lit the torch with the flint, Gawain headed into the cave. The three of you followed with the horses. The entrance was wide and perfect for the horses to shelter in, then the cave narrowed to the size where a person could still pass through. That short dark path led into an larger open space. Lancelot used his sword to make a small hole into the ground for Gawain to stick the torch in. The flame of the torch gave the cave a warm and cozy feeling. Percival plopped down against the rock wall near the torch, hugging his knees to his chest while watching the fire. You went to sit beside the boy but feared saying the wrong thing in the attempt to console him, you let your actions speak for themselves and rubbed over his back in a soothing manner.

Percival took in a deep breath. “I don’t want to miss her, I want her to be alive again.”

You swallowed hard. “I know, Percival. It does not feel right or fair, and it isn’t. Nimue sounded like she was an impressive woman.”

The boy nodded. “She was my friend…”

Tears began to brim in his eyes again and you wrapped your arms around him, letting him lean into the embrace. Lancelot and Gawain saw the boy engulfed in grief, their eyes filled with sorrow at the sight. Minutes passed before Percival’s tears stopped flowing, the strong emotions were tiring him out. He still sat against the wall, but now he had put his head down on your shoulder to rest. Gawain and Lancelot had taken seat at the opposite side of the torch, hoping to get some rest tonight.

“Do you believe this cave is something the paladins would easily find?” Gawain voiced his concern out loud to Lancelot.

For Lancelot, the answer was simple. “No. And I know quite certain that they are not eager to search the woods in the rain at night. Nights of rain always made them reluctant to perform their duties. Father had to reprimand them often because of it.”

“Do you think Father Carden wants you back?” Percival suddenly asked.

“I do not know.” Lancelot said. “Perhaps.”

The boy clearly worried about it, the death of his friend had wounded him. “I don’t want him to take you away.”

Lancelot was quick to reassure the boy, understanding where this fear was coming from in the boy’s grief. “He will not.”

Gawain had a certain look in his eyes that Lancelot had managed to see before the knight could hide it.

He believed that the knight did not trust that he would not go back to Father Carden. “Is there a problem?”

“No.” Gawain had a small smile that didn’t reach his eyes and he shook his head.

Lancelot disliked the blatant lie. He tilted his head in the direction of you and Percival, clearly insulted. “Do you believe I will return to Father? That I would betray them?”

Gawain had been more than a little reluctant to even speak of what he knew about the priest to him. “Father Carden is death, Lancelot…I am sorry. He died in Uther’s camp when he attacked it with the paladins.”

Your eyes snapped to Lancelot, watching how his expression changed to doubt. But when Gawain dropped his gaze to the ground in sympathy, Lancelot knew the knight was speaking the truth and he tensed up completely. The eyes of the Ash Man were void of life, a certain hollowness had taken over in them. Gawain tried to explain to him what had happened, how Father Carden had intended to murder Nimue but the odds had turned against him. Lancelot shot up to his feet whilst Gawain was mid-sentence, he moved through the narrow passageway in the cave that led to where the horses were. You were already up on your feet after seeing the reaction and fixed your eyes on his shadowy form, he had gone to Goliath and took something out of the saddle bag. He almost stormed out of the cave. You ran after him and hoped it’s wasn’t what you thought it was.

          The rain washed out the moon’s light. By the time you had spotted him marching between the trees you had to run to reach him. Did he even notice that you had followed him out of the cave? It didn’t appear to be the case. How he was able to walk so fast without slipping on the muddy ground was a mystery to you, you slipped a few times and were barely able to prevent a fall.

“Lancelot! Wait!” you shouted out while using a tree to regain your footing.

“Go back!” his reply was as fierce and rough as the thunder that followed seconds after it. He didn’t even look behind him to see if you had listened.

There was not a chance, not one damn possibility, that you were going to ignore that he had just walked out with the scourge that was wrapped in that rag. You finally reached him and nearly slipped again on the ground. But this time you were able to grab a hold on his arm to keep yourself steady and to keep him from trying to avoid the confrontation. You tried to grab the scourge from his hand, your fingers held on to the rag around it when he moved it back to signal for you not to take it from him.

His tone was sharp, bordering on anger, “Go back to the cave!”

When he tried to move, you grabbed a firm hold on the leather of the jerkin at his chest. “You promised me you wouldn’t use it anymore!”

Immediately he began to pry your fingers from the leather, even trying to force your wrists away. But you held on, knowing that if you let go he would return bleeding.

“Let go!” his voice rang loud into your ears.

You hated how you flinched, and raised your voice to match his, “I would rather bleed to stop you, than see you bleed again!” It had halted him. “I won’t let you do this to yourself, I will get that scourge out of your hands even if it means getting my wrists broken for it!”

His hand had been around your wrist, trying to get you to loosen your grip. His eyes fell to how he was holding it, his hold loosened. He shook his head, unable to voice what he was feeling and experiencing.

Again you reached for the scourge, the rag was soaked from the rain. “I beg you, don’t.”

He kept his gaze on the grass but let you pluck the scourge from his fingers, and you threw it into a bush. Now that you were more confident that he would not submit himself to flagellation, you gently brushed your hands along his arms in slow movements.

“Just breathe.” you hoped it was calming him, even if just a little.

He stood motionless, his eyes a million worlds away as they blinked only when a drop of rain hit them. There was no eye-contact, he did not want for you to see the sheer agony that had filled his eyes. You kneaded at his arms softly, soothing the tense muscles in them while stepping closer. Slowly, you closed the distance and brought your arms around him. Doing so made you aware of how much he was trembling, he was overcome by grief, it felt like trying to keep a thunderstorm from breaking out of it’s bounds.

You spoke against his shoulder. “Allow me to help you, tell me how and I will. I wish I could spare you from this pain.”

He felt his chest tighten and release, over and over again. The scent of you filling his lungs, colliding with his grief, the power it had over his being was unmeasurable.

You heard him inhale, slow and deep, and knew he was taking in your scent. Just hearing him try and calm himself by breathing better was a relief.

“Please…” he spoke so quietly and brought an arm around your form to keep you close.

You knew that what he did not say was ‘help’, ‘please, help’. Asking for aid when being in one’s most vulnerable state was not easy, and certainly not for him. After years of having to hide his suffering, showing it was a frightening ordeal.

You rubbed a hand over his back in soothing circles, feeling how he touched his head to the side of yours. “I’m here. I’ve got you.”

That reassurance made him bring you in closer, making the embrace an intimate affair neither had expected.

“What he has done to me… I…” He took a deep breath, his voice broke, “It’s not right… I shouldn’t…”

He was mourning a man, a Father, who was seen as a monster to the Fey and all those who were unfortunate enough to have opposed him. It felt wrong, so very wrong, and selfish to weep for Father in the arms of a Fey. He was alone in bearing this grief, no one could understand and he could not expect it of them. And it was what made it unbearable.

You would not let him deny himself the chance to grieve. “You loved him, grieving him is what you must do, you have a right to grieve as much as anyone else.”

His emotions were merciless waves crashing into each other, constantly overtaking one another. The only certain thing that stood as a beacon between them was you and the comfort you brought him. And when he dared to meet your eyes, he could no longer go without the sight of them, no one had ever looked at him in such a manner before. With pure compassion, and the clear will to see into his thoughts, your eyes remained on his.

Seeing the heavens in his eyes rain down their sorrow was something you never wished to see again. You reached up and cupped his cheek, wiping some tears from where they ran over his ashen ones. “I am so sorry, Lancelot. You don’t deserve this pain.”

“I do.” He blamed himself for this. By leaving Father’s side he had not been there to prevent his death.

It was the worst thing to hear. “Don’t. Please, don’t. I know you believe that to be true, but it’s not. I know it’s not.”

He lifted his head back, trying to see the sky through the rain, he had not stopped shaking since he had stepped out of the cave. After a few seconds of letting the rain wash away the evidence of his suffering, he dropped his gaze unto you again. There were tears brimming in the corner of your eyes, and you were losing the fight against them, seeing him suffer like this was cutting into your heart.

You made your tone stronger, filling it with conviction. “You served him loyally, faithfully, you gave him everything. You don’t deserve this suffering. You never did.”

He suddenly cupped your cheek in the palm of his hand, a small startled gasp escaped you at the unexpected action. Reading his eyes was impossible, there was so much happening inside of them all at once. There was a soft light caress of his knuckles along the side of your chin. His hand glided down to the side of your neck, and it was that which gave him the control to do what he did next.

You blinked, that was all, and he had brought his lips to yours to steal a brief meeting between them. It happened so fast that it took you completely off-guard. The aim of it was impressive, there was no rough collision, you had landed into the clouds that were his lips. The meeting was brief and forward, his mouth parted from yours again. Rain dripped from his face and onto yours, his gaze was still locked in on your lips. You were trying to say something, to bring out any form of words but struggled to do so. He tilted his head to inhale your scent just below your ear, while your mind was slow to process what was happening. Then he brought his lips to yours again, letting them linger. You were too stunned by it to move at all. His lips were soft and light against your own. You did not push him away, fearing he would seek to punish himself with the scourge after all. The kiss was not anticipated, nor was the feeling that went from your head to your toes in response to it. And even with your previous experience, it still felt so very new and unlike anything else felt before. You felt the kiss throughout your whole body, your head was airy, your legs unsteady.

This was against the vow he had always wished to uphold, it wasn’t like him to do this. You knew that it was him reacting to the grief, finding something to bury it with if even just for a brief moment. You couldn’t let him do this, reciprocating would be taking advantage of his suffering state of mind. And that lack of response was what ultimately made him stop and break away, even if it was just an inch. He was trying so hard to read your eyes but you doubted he could see much beyond the grief now.

By cupping his face in your hands and putting your thumbs upon his lips, you kept your own free from them, a clear signal. “You don’t want this, Lancelot. I fear you are not thinking clear now.”

He kept a hand on the side of your neck, stroking his thumb along the bottom of your jaw, shaking his head very shallowly. You released your hold on his face.

“Forgive me…” His breath shook violently. His thumb stroked where your marks would be if they showed themselves. He rested his forehead against yours. “Please, forgive me…”

He would not survive it if his impulsive action had ruined it all again. Why could he not control himself better? Why did he keep making these mistakes? Why could he not do better? Why?

You hushed his concern, voice as sweet as possible, he was troubled enough as it was, “It’s alright, there is nothing to forgive.”

His fingers were still cradling your head like it was precious to him, he spoke against your temple, “I will never harm you. I’d never…”. He shook his head, disappointed in himself.

“I know.” You nodded. “I trust you.” Your hand came up to rest near where his heart was. “Come back to the cave with me, you’ll catch a cold in this weather. Please…”

He shook his head again. Was he embarrassed, or simply too overcome by it all that he could not think clearly?

You took his hand in yours. “I’m taking you with me.” It was a bold thing to say and try, but when you began to slowly walk, he let himself be taken along. It wasn’t until the entrance of the cave came into sight that he made you halt, you could see two shadowy figures waiting in the cave for you to return.

He pulled at your hand to bring you closer. “What I did, how I behaved towards you-”

There was no need for an apology. “Don’t. I know you’d never mean to cause me harm. I understand why it happened.” You pulled at his hand as well. “Now come with me. Out of this rain, Ash Man.”

That light demanding tone worked wonders on him, almost did he smile. You held his hand firmly, walking him into the cave were Percival and Gawain were waiting. Percival looked at Lancelot only once and flung his arms around the stunned man. Nothing was said between them as Lancelot brought a hand to the back of Percival’s head in a protective manner, nothing needed to be said. The grief was silent, like a poison invading their veins and the only way to survive it was to share it.

“I am sorry, Lancelot. I should have told you earlier, but I did not know how.” Gawain was somewhat uneasy. “You have my deepest sympathy.”

Lancelot only nodded, he was rubbing over Percival’s shoulder blade as if it was instinctive. It was surprising to see how well he did with children, even Gawain had not expected to see it.

Something caught Gawain’s attention when looking at you. “Are you bleeding?”

You frowned, then noticed the stain at the bottom of your sleeve. “I… I think so.”

Percival turned to look, as did Lancelot. You took of your wet jacket and handed it to Gawain to hold, blood had stained your sleeve a little but most of it had just run down to your wrist.

“One of the stitches on my arm may have torn.” You rolled up the sleeve to see.

Gawain went to the saddlebag of his horse. “I have what you need to bandage it.”

“Do you always travel so prepared?” you wondered out loud.

“I find it important to travel without having to be concerned if I’d bleed out from a cut.” Gawain deadpanned. He took out some rags, needle and thread, then looked at Lancelot. “You and the boy should rest. I’ll help her with her arm.”

Lancelot was not given the chance to protest, Gawain simply took you gently by the arm and led you towards the space where the torch still burned. It’s flames offered the well-needed light to work on your arm, and as you sat by the fire and let Gawain help you, Lancelot put his cloak down by the fire to dry. Percival sat down against the wall again, and Lancelot took place right beside him.

“You smell like a wet dog.” Percival blurted out to him.

Silence dropped in the cave, it lasted for two counts before Lancelot chuckled. The boy’s blunt remark was an oddly welcome distraction, even you and Gawain had stifled a quiet chuckle.

“Shall I sit further away?” Lancelot asked the boy, not sounding very serious about it.

“No.” Percival said and pulled out his knife from where it was hidden in the pocket of his jacket, the boy began to fidget with the knife a little to entertain himself.

You stared at Percival. “Percival… is that the knife that I put into that sellsword’s eye?”

Percival shrugged his shoulders. “What? I pulled it out and wiped it off. It’s my knife.”

Lancelot arched a brow, processing what he was hearing. Even Gawain had stopped in the midst of wrapping a fresh bandage around your arm.

“You pulled it from his eye?” Lancelot found himself asking.

“Yes.” Percival said.

“And what did that do to his eye?” Lancelot could not stop himself from wondering out loud, envisioning the possible gruesome outcome of the boy’s decision.

Percival winced at the memory and avoided looking at him. No one said a word, all were envisioning what must have happened.

Gawain cleared his throat. “All done. Try not to use that arm too much until the wound is closed again.” He rolled down your sleeve and patted your shoulder comfortingly. “You did well, not a single complaint.”

Lancelot watched the interaction in silence, you became aware of it quite fast because the Hidden’s whispers were drawing your attention his way instead of Gawain’s. One brief glance, one could claim it as ‘accidental’, and you had noticed it. Perhaps it was him still trying to determine whether or not to trust the knight, or perhaps the reason for his watchful eyes was of a different sort… perhaps that kiss did come from a place within him that he was sworn to forsake.

You placed your jacket near the torch, hoping that it would dry a bit in the night from the warmth the flames brought into the cave, then went to sit against the wall to sleep.

Gawain took place against the wall as well to rest for the night. “At dawn, we continue our journey. We should be at Gramaire the day after.” He saw Lancelot tense up. “Do not be afraid, Ash Man, I will be there to welcome you. And you have two more Feys who will speak of your refound goodwill towards the Fey.”

Lancelot nodded, looking down at Percival who was leaning against him and drifting of to sleep. “We shall see.”

The Green Knight had more faith in the matter than he did. After all his crimes against the Fey, he held not much hope to be forgiven or welcomed. The only welcome he expected was a blade through his chest.

    ~~~♡~~~♡~~~♤~~~♡~~~♡~~~

  You had fallen asleep faster than you thought possible, the events of the previous night had tired all those present in the cave. Minutes before dawn, you were gently nudged awake by Lancelot.

“I need to speak with you.” he whispered, not willing to wake the others.

You mumbled something incoherent, but it clearly showed how reluctant you were to leave the hard ground you called a bed. That lasted until you vaguely heard him say ‘please’. You got up from the ground, still drowsy from sleep, and followed him towards the entrance of the cave. The rain had stopped and it was palpably warmer, he stopped just where the cave still covered the ground, his restless hands were folded together behind his back. You stopped at his side, waiting for him to speak.

He took a deep breath. “About last night…”

Was this what was still troubling him? You hoped it had not been a part of what must have kept him from resting properly, he looked tired. “We do not have to talk about it.”

He thought differently, this was a matter that could not wait and risk festering. “We do. I prefer for us to speak of it and make certain that all is well between us.”

“All is well.” you said.

“I kissed you.” He turned to face you, his expression serious. “I had hoped we could speak without reservation as we did in the inn.”

You clasped your hands together to ease that sudden nervousness in you, he could be very forward and sometimes you envied it. “I don’t really know what to say about what happened.”

“I have upset you?” his eyes narrowed just a little, as if he hoped to read the answer in yours.

By taking a deep breath, you tried to be forward about it too. “No. The only thing that did upset me was seeing you storm off with that scourge.”

He seemed to accept that answer after studying your expression. “I must confess that I am grateful for how you have handled my…” He tried to find the right way to describe the state he had been in, “Madness.”

“Lancelot.” You shook your head at how harsh he was to himself. “It is not madness, you are grieving.”

Remorse was tearing into him. “What I did last night borders on madness.”

You hoped to finally make him understand that you were not angry or upset by jesting about it, “Are you saying that kissing me is a sign of madness?”

“I-… no, of course not-…” he stammered apologetically.

You could no longer hide your grin and looked towards the trees, biting the inside of your cheek to scold yourself for it.

He let out a deep sigh at realizing you were toying with his mind, mumbling, “You are maddening.”

“Says the one married to me.” you fired back.

It caused him to smile, a genuine small smile that reached his eyes and he snapped them to the trees. “I have not told Gawain of our marital status.”

“Why not?” you wondered.

“I thought you would prefer that I did not.” he said. “You have always let it be known that this arrangement was not by your will, I wish to give you the freedom to choose to ignore it’s existence or not.”

You hummed pensively. “Thank you… that was considerate.”

He gave a nod. “But I stand by what I said of how I will treat this arrangement. If there is anything you need, I will provide it, whether it be safety or other matters.” His eyes locked on you, another nod. “I am here for you. At your side.”

It felt like too much to accept, but this was how he was raised, to be devoted to those important to him. And after living with people who couldn’t care less about you, it was a welcome difference. You reached out and took his hand in yours with a light hold.

He took a step closer. “I once believed that it was my fate to die by the blade that would threaten to strike Father, that it was my duty to sacrifice my life for his. I do not know who or what I am now, not yet.” He swallowed hard, bringing a hand over yours. “I chose this path, I betrayed Father, of that I am guilty. What plagues me, is that even with this knowledge, I would still choose this path.”

You gave his hand a squeeze. “Often the right choice, is the hardest to make. And you made the right one.”

He nodded, believing it to be true. “I know I did. This…” he moved your interlocked hands up a little, “-proves that I have. You and Percival have been more than courteous to me, you’ve accepted me whilst the world sees me as a monster.”

“You are no monster.” you reassured him. “Monsters do not have a conscience.”

He hummed quietly, seeming to accept your view on this.

You remembered something. “Hey uhm, back at the inn you told me you wanted to speak to me about a personal matter. Do you recall? I’m here to listen.”

“I cannot recall.” he answered evasively. “It is not important.”

Your eyes squinted at him, a cheeky smile danced on your lips. “If you cannot recall, then how do you know it’s not important?”

He was quiet for a moment, eyes fixed on your hands. A sound from inside the cave alerted you that someone else was starting to wake. By the lack of much noise, you figured it had to be Gawain. You released your hold on Lancelot’s hand but he simply took hold of yours to keep the connection.

“You have truly forgiven me for last night?” he quietly asked.

“I have. And consider yourself fortunate that that often arrogant mouth of yours is quick to learn such a sinful skill.” You gave a playful smirk, teasing him, “I did not expect that of you.”

Was that a compliment? He had already forgotten the insult laced into it.

That cheeky comment had made him flustered. “I-”

“Were you able to rest last night?” You reached out, placing a hand on his upper arm.

“Not much.” he admitted.

Absentmindedly you kneaded at his arm. “Do you fear you must hide your grief?”

He gave a small nod. “I must.”

“Not from me.” You rubbed his arm.

The way you spoke so gentle now, so soft and sweet, almost quiet enough to be whispering. The moment felt serene to him, offering him more rest in his mind than sleep had done.

Slowly he reached out to cup your neck, and even slower he leaned in, as if you were a bird ready to take flight at an unexpected movement from him. You sensed his intent. He halted a second, waited, then put his lips to your temple. The kiss was one thing, but he lingered. You blinked rapidly, feeling a surge of restlessness warm your chest, a fluttering that caused you to smile. The feeling was overwhelming and you turned your head down and to the side, the shy smile on your lips was enough for him to see that he had done no harm or wrong with it.

You dared to look at him through your lashes, aware how flustered you had to look. “What was that for?”

Other than seeing that rare timid smile that caused your eyes to glister and caused his heart’s pace to quicken?

Slowly he straightened his back again, folding his hands behind it. “For the grace you have shown me once more.”

You still felt the rush going through your chest. “You are my husband, of course I will try to help you carry these burdens.”

His expression changed instantly and you realized why. You had not addressed him in such a way since you fled the paladin camp. He did not comment on it, a smile formed on his lips as he looked to the ground.

You stammered, “I… I mean…”

Gawain walked up, yawning. “Good morrow. Preparing for the journey?”

You send Lancelot a look, then returned to where Percival was still asleep to go and wake him. Gawain had to speak Lancelot’s name twice before the Ash Man remembered he was even standing there.

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[grinchdelia]

1. Anti-civ does not mean being against medicine. Every culture on the planet practices medicine, and this has been the case for as long as culture has existed. It's true that something like cancer is hard to treat without recent technology, but it's also true that we get a lot more cancer, autoimmune disorders, metabolic issues, etc now. The system that is capable of treating these problems is the same system that causes most of them in the first place.

2. The science thing is more complicated but let's get into what science even is. You can talk about science in the epistemological sense or in the institutional sense. This is definitely something a lot of anti-civ folks would not agree with me on, I'm not going to defend anyone else's opinion here. Speaking personally, my feelings on the scientific method of learning and knowing are messy but I'm not going to toss out empiricism completely. It's good to question beliefs.

Scientific institutions.... are primarily tools of the state. Certainly not all scientists or even the majority spend their time on the kinds of projects I'm talking about. But the reason science as a whole is valued is because it is used to make effective weapons and tools of control. Zooming out a little bit, I don't dislike empiricism itself, but I'm skeptical of the goal of amassing knowledge. This knowledge is part of the wealth of corporate and governmental powers and is far less useful to us than it is to them. Knowledge should be embedded within a living culture, not hoarded to be available as a means.

3. Curious to hear about the good way of making computers? My position is that even if human laborers were happy to work in mines for some reason, the mines would still be doing violence to the land. But for the sake of argument let's say there's a way to do the mining that causes minimal harm to the land. How much work do you think it would take to make one computer ethically? Do you think it would be realistic for very many people to have access to these fantastically complex tools, built in a cleanroom with machines built by machines built by machines built by machines? And again, how much space on our shared earth does this whole apparatus take up?

To be fair, I'd love to not have a phone, so in a better world where I can have a good life without one, that's at least one less that you'd need to make!

4. Which leads me to the basic hypocrisy that anti-civ folks are continually accused of. I actually don't have much of a defense to this one other than that it's difficult to live the life I want to live. I would really really really love to spend most of my time outside or in simply built shelters, never looking at a screen again. I have tried actually and I think the first issue is that it's a goal for a community, not for an individual. The community is by far the most important part and they've been systematically broken. Living alone on foraged food is still just barely possible, but it doesn't resemble the life I dream of. It's only superficially similar. The other point I want to make is that even for a community, it's damn hard to make this work in the world we live in. People are sincerely trying, and often failing, not because it's a bad way to live but because capital and civ culture will not let us. There's also some successes but the success tends to come with a lot of compromise. Still, we gotta keep trying, cause what else can we do?

5. Finally, we get to questions that I think need to be asked and don't have answers I like. How do we get there from here? Billions of people are dependent upon the system we live in functioning well. In short, you are right, there is no way for everyone to transition to non-civilized ways of living. A lot of anti-civ folks don't like to admit that. Some just live in denial and then there's the ones who actually advocate for mass death. Thankfully not that many in my experience but it's still an issue.

I certainly can't speak for anyone else and my views may not be representative of the anti-civ crowd as a whole, it's been so many years since I talked to many other anarchists so I don't know where people are at anymore and I no longer remember a lot from when I was in the scene. But let me try to elaborate a little on where I'm at personally.

I don't see a way for everyone alive now to get out of the machine and not die horribly. But as the godspeed track goes, it's also pretty clear to me that the machine is bleeding to death. It's almost certainly not going stop functioning all at once, but as the decline continues, things are going to get much worse for all of us trapped inside. Meanwhile the land and the waters have been degraded to the point where anyone who tries to escape by "living off the land" is in for a rude awakening. (This completely aside from the basic calculation that not every human would have enough space to feed themselves on our shared earth, even if our ecology was in a better condition.) Not incidentally, colonization of indigenous peoples is ongoing and anyone who remains on their ancestral land is still having to fight back attempts to force them off.

In short, we're pretty fucked. I genuinely do not understand how pro-industrial anarchists or communists think we're going to get out of this one (without mass death). In my opinion it's just as delusional as that section of anti-civ anarchists who are in denial. You can even make similar arguments that if they somehow manage to pull off a revolution, the transition is going to kill a whole lot of people because it's all quite fragile and keeping the machine running smoothly is necessary to forestall immediate catastrophe.

However, I'm actually not that bothered about a hypothetical situation where either pro-industrial ancoms or anti-civ anarchists are in that position. It just doesn't strike me as realistic enough to worry about. I cannot imagine myself ever having to make those sorts of decisions. I'm also not delusional enough to imagine that I could somehow strike at the global industrial system in a way which might bring the whole thing down and thereby cause mass death. Even if I wanted to do that, it's just larping, and I think taking that kind of thing seriously encourages people to develop unhealthy fantasies about something that will never happen. I won't theorize about how anarchists could solve these kinds of issues because it puts us in this mindset that we have to wield absolute power correctly to fix things. That's not how any of this works. The death machine has got us in this horrible position that can not possibly end well, and I can't do anything about that. Obviously don't trust anyone who has ideas about how to design the perfect world for us all to decivilize or whatever, that's completely missing the point and it's depressing how many people do think that way.

So, after all that pessimism, what do I stand for? I just want to live my life. I'd like to say that what I do doesn't have to have a purpose but that's actually not true either. I do feel like I have work to do. I think helping the people in front of me in little ways in really important, but that's not an anti-civ specific thing obviously. Maybe a more relevant thing to add is that we need to put time into the groundwork of living culture. Find ways to relate to other humans and the more than human world, because without that, there's not even a possibility of things being better. A long time ago I used to be all for "tear it down first" but I've more or less done a 180 on that. I live in the USA and right now, if the government and capitalism collapsed instantly for some unforseen reason, almost nobody would be ready to start building a better life. I'm not going to make predictions about the time scale here but I absolutely do believe that global collapse of civilization is happening, and I'm going to live with that in mind. No, it's not possible for everyone to go forage, but there are little things we can do to help heal the places we live. Maybe on the day I'm in need, there will be a fruit on the tree for me in return. The suffering of the world is truly monumental and the good I can do is so small but that makes it feel really important to start working on these things.

Hope you enjoyed the glimpse into some sort of anti-civ perspective, however different it may be from others! There are a lot more people involved in this sort of culture building work than you might think, but you won't hear from most of them since they're out doing the thing. I'm a rare case in that I know some of those people but I'm also online, at least for the moment. Might as well evangelize while I'm here.

Funny thing about that anti civ person is that like. They could just do what folks that live off the grid do, but more extreme. If you hate civilization you’re…allowed to live somewhere else. Hell since they’re so convinced in their own definition of civilization they have even more options! (Though they’ll probably be disappointed to find out first hand their definition was wrong)

I mean in a way I understand. If you truly believe that civilization is the worst thing to happen to humanity and you want the best for humanity, you will even use the tools of civilization to persuade other people to your ideas.

The thing of course is that I don't believe on that and it's so incredibly easy to point out that computers are made by, well, civilization.

I also think that to say "well go live in the woods then" is a bit rude but... honestly, if the anti-civ way of life is more rewarding, we would see more people trying to do it right? We would see people in third-world countries protesting against schools, hospitals, universities, transportation, etc. instead of wanting those, right? But instead you will find, surprisingly, that people want a better life for themselves and those who they love. And this isn't opposed to enviromental stewardship and protection, as it's often the same people who live in those places who also want enviromental protection.

It's often through organized systems, civilization, that people achieve human rights, a good life, and indeed, are able to organize how to protect nature.

It's just completely disconnected from the aspirations of most people.

[prettyboykatsuki]

tw for very very brief mentions of rape and incest and other taboo subject matter - only brought up for discussion.

i feel like it is kind of beating a dead horse when i bring up the relationship between fiction, reality, and the exploration of dark/taboo. given the nature of my blog and the change it's made over time—it's brought up repeatedly many times and in many context in which im forced to defend.

outside of that though, i have never really taken a moment to thoroughly break down the reason (or one of them) i find the it important which is the idea of fictional exploration as a sort of third space of processing and development.

there are many arguments surrounding the exploration of taboo relationships, ideas, and incidents in fiction built on the basis of morals. our greater, societal infrastructure relies on the idea of morality to justify any and all material violence. whether that violence be physical harm, systemic injustice, or psychological / verbal abuse etc.

there's a quote by frank bidart that goes "you can convince human beings to do anything if you convince them it is moral" that i think of often when we debate about what is moral and why. all people are equally capable of committing great material harm to other people if they are under the impression they are in the moral right.

so you examine morality as a mechanism for forming social contracts. it is largely debated whether or not morality is subjective or objective - but regardless of either thing, it is a fundamental part of creating a social circle. big or small.

human beings are also naturally social creatures. we want the approval and attention of our peers and we want community. and it will cause us to act in ways, whether that be conscious or unconscious, that are unsavory. whether that be passivitiy to maintain the status quo or othering another person in order to gain social status or favor.

a lot of the people who are staunchly against any forms of taboo in the exploration of fiction are people engaging with this kind of social behavior. at the core of there reasoning, they are seeking solace with peers over a sense of moral superiority all while not contributing anything materially—except often the verbal abuse and harassment of the opposite party.

none of this is very novel for me to point out. there are also plenty of other things that contribute to why this kind of debate happens online so frequently, particularly a strong taboo towards any all sexual content stemming from old-school religious conservatism and other fascist ideas etc.

but i bring it up because of how it relates to my feelings about the concept of fiction as a sort of third space in the same way the internet is a sort of third space.

engaging in this kind of moral crusading online is done by people who are seeking out social spaces that connect them to other people. this is especially true online as the internet has become a third space for people to interact with others that share similar interest and views. they do this to have a space to reaffirm themselves and their morality.

most importantly, they do this because the internet is an easily accessible space to like-mindedness and self-assurance. it's unreliability is overshadowed by the fact that young people engaging in this kind of critique can get ahold of their peers easily this way. humans are social. they seek companionship and our real life third spaces have become more and more sparse over the years.

so, online spaces have become a place for people to process their social development and their emotions with their peers.

now there's an understanding—that people need a way to process their internal world, concepts and ideas somehow.

but there are social contracts that can't be broken in these online spaces. though they are meant to be an escape from the constraints of real life, you are still subject to scrutiny and at risk of becoming a bad actor that is shunned by their own online community and circle of friends.

on top of that, if human beings are capable of committing horrific acts of violence, they are just as capable and if not more, of experiencing that violence in their lives. this also requires processing similar to the normal, everyday social processing people do online.

this much is obvious, even to many people who oppose the idea that fiction doesn't equal reality. you'll often hear them utter words about seeking counseling / therapy underneath posts involving dark subject matter.

but then, there are social contracts of acceptability and palatability. and more, there is inaccessibility.

all human beings are subject to some form of violence or some other type of struggle. whether that be in their class, race, or sexuality - the average person has material conditions and complex emotions that can't be neatly resolved nor shared comfortably with their peers.

everyone needs space to air these aspects of themselves out healthily. you are automatically going to experience a specific amount of negativity in your life that requires an outlet and there is no real way to find a universal solution to answering those feelings. unresolved, it can lead to substance abuse or suicidal thoughts/

and there is no universal, easy to access place for people to unilaterally express and process their feelings and thoughts.

but there is writing fiction.

this, to me, is the one argument that i think is important to bring it up but rarely does. because there are many angles to approach this discourse and this is just one of them.

writing is also a kind of third space. a place to communicate that isn't home or work. a third space in to connect with and break down these emotions—somewhere that can be shared to find camaraderie. it can also be shielded to hide away from the scrutiny of your peers. it is a place where you can inadvertently process these great, overbearing emotions that is neutral and welcome to all.

and it's not that fiction can't cause harm at all. because it certainly can and has

but the very presence of taboo is not the sole cause of harm in what makes something fictional hurtful. propaganda and insensitive messaging and all the ways fiction can hurt people exist with in a predefined context and social climate. that kind of harm spreads through massive scales of government and print and makes its way onto shelves.

more than that, human beings have a sense of morality. it is agreed upon that rape, incest, violence and murder are materially harmful. in the misplaced desire for censorship, it seems people are attempting to affirm this by monitoring works of fiction that have this subject matter at all.

but in that monitoring, you are taking away what makes these kinds of spaces comfortable - which is a lack of hostility.

if you believe this to be the most optimum solution, i implore you to critically examine whether or not you think it morally correct to take away from someone the means to process their emotions. and if you believe still, that it's the best thing to do for all parties i next ask, how will you then make space for them? what space will replace this one?

what are the other solutions have the same level of access to all? can you implement a space for someone with no other healthy outlets, to vent and untangle and smooth out these feelings, without requiring the hypothetical labor of someone else? can you promise you will be able to provide something that offers a similar catharsis for the often deeply complicated feelings being addressed (whether that be directly or indirectly) through the presence of themes like incest, rape, or abuse? can you provide another alternative to the repetitive behaviors of trauma that insist on recreating / imagining these harms in a controlled environment over and over again?

to be clear, it is unnecessary and against my beliefs that you must have experience those things directly to write about them. in fact my point is the opposite.

the thematic concepts that come along with the taboos are the catharsis themselves. a person with a disconnected trauma about neglect or abandonment finding healing in the themes of incest about forbidden love or love that goes against all. a person with no trauma at all, who longs to be free from the daily life stresses of work may find catharsis in the writing of rape which strips autonomy and choice.

human beings are complicated. these examples may feel extreme to you. you are welcome to view them that way. that is your right.

but for other people it is a good solution, one of the best solutions - to strip down these desires bare and explore them where no one is being hurt. where they do not hurt themselves materially or anyone else. art is one of the few spaces you have for yourself. you can argue that distribution is the problem—but if you are able to identify when it is wrong, does your moral superiority extend so far as to believe that that's something only you can do?

and most importantly - are you prepared to take that space from them and provide other outlets? do you think it fair to prevent people from safely having access to something that you, yourself, depend on heavily for social and emotional affirmation?

are you willing to hold space for them when no one else can or no one else will?

[dykedvonte]

You ever just see a Mouthwashing take that makes you want to bang your head into a wall? I literally just saw someone claim Curly couldn't have been emotionally abused by Jimmy before the crash because he was in a higher position of power than Jimmy.

-Shrimp Anon

The mouthwashing fandom has shown me that people genuinely do believe that certain types of abuse are not as detrimental as other types especially when they deem those immune/resistant, ergo, believing one is objectively worse no matter how it affects the person nor the intersections of power, history and dynamics at play.

Get ready cause this is a yap session:

Cause like it's heavily implied that Curly and Jimmy's friendship was toxic and abusive, pointedly in the direction of how Jimmy uses Curly's belief/comfort in him. Curly wasn't forced to enable Jimmy but he was emotional and mentally on edge around him in almost every scene in some way. Mental and emotional abuse are not contingent on what positions you have at work. Yeah, he's Jimmy's boss but he was Jimmy's friend first and it's like getting into Psych discussion to talk about how social power tends to overshadow any perceived organizational power in the human mind. People are concerned about their jobs ofc but they tend to hang onto and put more value/investment into their personal relationships, hence why there tends to be laws and restrictions around mixing the two.

I always see the sentiments that "Curly is a grown ass man", "Curly is bigger than Jimmy", "Curly is Jimmy's boss", "He just needed a backbone" as criticisms of Curly and while I do agree that on the surface level all of these to be true and viable ways Curly could've taken more control of the situation, I often look at the parallels of Anya and Curly as victims of Jimmy pre/post crash.

The way Jimmy talks to Anya post crash is how he talked to Curly in the pre-crash segments. It's hard to pin-point mainly because we know he hates and wants nothing to do with Anya compared to his contrary but similarly handled obsessions with Curly. It's a weird sort of "honey-moon" effect of abuse Jimmy does in terms of emotional and mental victimization. He is always horrid to Anya, always talking down or questioning her abilities and thoughts in a situation, this of course includes the harassment and assault. However, he has a moment of attempted gentleness/conditioning when he question her about the mouthwash when she's contemplating drinking it at the table. The key difference is he has no personal investment in Jimmy outside wanting nothing to do with him, meaning there is no sort of romanticized version of him that he can condition her off of. He knows this, hence, why he always reverts to trying to make her to scared to oppose him.

This sort of give and take of "kindness" doesn't work on her because she knows he is just doing it to take more from her than whatever he could possibly give but it reflects even the "softer" scenes between him and Curly where he always rewords or rephrases Curly's sentiments and concerns to sound more shallow. He is feigning a deeper understanding by reworking Curly's emotions into something bad and needing to be hidden. Everything is laced with envy and resentment, an outburst just around the corner, I mean he even slams the table in the birthday party scene, a tactic in emotional manipulation to set the victim on edge and cloud their ability to respond. Even if Curly knows Jimmy won't get physical in that moment, the physical actions is intended to make him back down in the confrontation in case it does. This is something that is just not person specific. It ingrains itself into how you interact with the world and life and it shows in major and minor ways with Curly.

Post-crash, the abusive nature is more in tandem to the physical victimization Anya went through and the stripping of voice and autonomy we see take place. Like the parasite in HFIM, Jimmy speaks for Curly most of the time and puts words in his mouth, similarly to how he takes Anya's plans as his own. He very commonly, with the both of them mind you, supplements the worst aspects of himself into them; pettiness, selfishness, lack of understanding... And tries to cover himself with their best qualities; kindness, planning, initiative, etc...

These parallel are just to say that positional power has little to do with if a person can be abused and how it can even be flipped to further the abuse. There is no doubt that Curly could've picked up on Jimmy's envy of his position hence another reason he never confronted him as a Captain but as a friend as doing so would immediately put Jimmy in a space to be confrontational/combative.

I think the disdain some people have when they talk about the heavily implied if not implicitly stated emotional/mental abuse Curly experienced being Jimmy's friend is when treating it as an excuse to why he didn't do more. I can understand that completely because it is not an excuse to why he didn't do more but is a very real reason people in his position in these scenarios can experience whether in the context of a work or social environment. However, I also think the way people talk about it really does demonstrate a bigger problem when talking about abuse when somehow who is/was abused is either part of the issue or enabled it.

Harkening back to the sentiments about Curly's inaction regarding Jimmy, I think the exact phrases I used/have seen show how there is an inherent belief that it is easier to overpower the effects of emotional/mental abuse that go in tandem with the perception of Curly as someone who should be able to. There is not an age you suddenly stop being susceptible to abuse nor a set point or low where you realize how it has affected you. You don't suddenly know to stand up or put a face on to face your abuser nor admit that you inadvertently enabled them to subjugate someone else to the same treatment. Maybe it's my psych brain but their is this growing belief that direct action is somehow easy or always the best method with the game shows you instances where it is not always the case. In real life that rings true too. He should have done more, but it's not impossible to see why he struggled to find a way or didn't even if it makes us mad.

It's not easy to suddenly gain a "back-bone". You don't immediately want to resort to aggression, especially if it mirrors the type you were a victim to. You don't want to believe you allowed yourself to be treated this bad, let it get that bad or allowed something bad to happen to someone else. It is easy to be in denial, to retreat to your thoughts or make excuses to avoid the painful truth. It's frustrating but in a way we know is relatable. It why we both hate and love Curly for it. We know we'd be better, we think we'd be better, we like to think we wouldn't falter in the same ways but it's always easier to say that from the outside looking in. It's easy to see what he was doing wrong because we are seeing it, not him, but the game really does make you picture what you would do if this was your raw reality and it's why this debate about Curly seems so never ending/contradictory. We can all say what we'd do but bottom line is that's much different when you're in the moment with all the emotions and human feelings attached.

I personally think Mouthwashing tackles the themes of rape culture, enabling, toxic masculinity, types of abuse and patriarchy in ways that are meant to deconstruct the typical straightforward views we mostly have of these concepts and how little subtilities of them are just as, if not more, detrimental than the overt/obvious parts. The game deals with the idea of little details and bigger picture in a way to show that sometimes the bigger picture is not the issue but the little details that make it up. It's why I have a personal dislike of depictions of Jimmy as the typical horrible person who would of course do something like this because the game is about noticing the little warning signs, the foreshadowing and foresight.

It's why I dislike the typical discussion of "bro code" and "boys will be boys" for the game because the game makes a point to avoid the standard depictions of such. It is about the type of men who still enable despite not condoning, agreeing or even perpetuating harmful beliefs because they can't see the little details or the ways it seeps into their everyday. The severity is not obvious to them as it was not obvious to Curly, Swansea or even Daisuke the way it was to a woman like Anya. There are little details about Jimmy that should ring alarms but if you are too naive like Daisuke, too distant like Swansea or too conditioned like Curly, they are just off markers.

There is 100% more constructive/concise ways to say "Curly was a victim of Jimmy's abuse on an emotional and mental aspect that clouded his judgements and perceptions in the scenario" while also critiquing on the side of "Curly still had a responsibility to protect Anya as a crew mate and Captain that he failed to do due to biases and stigma's he failed to surpass" without the weird condemnation people give him about should've knowing better than to let himself be manipulated by a person he considered a close, if not family/best-friend and had his own reasons to trust initially. Also stop being weird about victims of abuse in general with this fandom, like sorry not everyone has a like social epiphany the moment someone's nasty to them. People are treating it like you immediately know when you are in a toxic relationship immediately or comprehend when a person is actively dangerous and either it's your fault for not knowing how to leave/cut them off or you deserve it. Like the hypocrisy of people believing how certain fans treat the story reflect their irl views but not their own is crazy.

End statement is: I honestly don't even know man, I've been writing this too long and just like no man on that ship was perfect or really helped Anya when it mattered and I feel like pitting them against each other in discussion on who did the least or most or how it was justified sucks cause in the end Anya always did the most and best thing for herself.

[pens-and-paperbacks]

Endeavor is almost a perfect allegory for what the society in the mha universe does to people who can't be heroes or use their quirks in a way to benefit society, which is cast them aside or pass them over without over giving them a second glance until uh-oh! Suddenly they're worth being noticed because they're a threat.

He apologizes to his family, which is good! If you're a bad person and did terrible things, the first step in your own transformation and atonement should be to acknowledge what you've done and to apologize to those you've wronged. Great!

Thing is, Endeavor set off a chain reaction with his abusive, neglectful and downright irresponsible choices that it damaged everyone in his family for life.

I don't think someone who causes one of their own children to literally go up in flames, crying because they're finally getting attention from their father and family in the very end, ever deserves to be forgiven.

[wulfdreaded]

"you're  overestimatin'  how  many  of  my  kind  are  still  out  there.  not  all  of  them  get  the  treatment  little  rory  does."  none  of  them,  actually.  he  bit  them,  the  turned  them,  he  let  them  loose  to  wreak  havoc.  sometimes  he  stayed  around  to  watch.  the  one  time  before  rory  that  zeke  actually  stuck  around  to  someone  he  turned...  didn't  go  well.  not  because  of  zeke  sticking  around,  but  because  of  weak  human  mental  strength.  "brothers?  pfhhh."  did  he  mean  the  piggies?  they  wouldn't  harm  a  fly,  though  zeke  wouldn't  mind  getting  his  revenge  on  them.  were  they  still  around?  maybe  he'd  have  a  little  look  around  the  forest,  do  some...  reconnecting.  but  vilem  should  know  that  the  forest  was  most  likely  the  safest  place  for  the  wolf  -  what  didn't  succeed  in  killing  him  in  all  these  years  wouldn't  start  winning  now.  even  if  someone  managed  to  surprise  him,  he  wasn't  helpless.  unless  the  old  farmer  was  involved  it  seemed.  until  this  day  &  most  likely  for  the  rest  of  his  life,  zeke  would  refuse  to  accept  that  vilem  -  the  old  grumpy  monster  hating  farmer,  would've  reacted  differently  if  zeke  told  him  beforehand.  did  he  have  explicit  proof?  obviously  not,  because  he  couldn't  turn  back  time,  but  still.  he  was  pretty  damn  sure.  they  ....time  they  spent  had  been  good,  at  least  he  thought  so  at  the  time  &  it  hadn't  been  enough  to  keep  him  in  that  bed.  it  was  in  the  past  now,  so  there  was  that.  "oh."  .....wait,  what?  he  would  have...  awkward  little  shift,  hand  brushing  through  his  hair,  "...now  you  know."  but  before  he  could  elaborate  &  make  this  worse,  vilem  to  the  rescue.  "i'm  not  turnin'  that  many  people.  besides,  i  was  born.  my  mother  was  a  wolf,  you  know?  not  a  lot  of  those  left,  even  less  with  human  infatuations."  little  shrug.  there  was  always  him,  but  even  if  ...  zeke  didn't  see  himself  falling  for  a  wolf  any  time  soon.  "yes,  i  feel  like  i  deserve  that  after  helping  you  out  so  much."  half  joke.  maybe.  although,  he  wouldn't  mind  being  pet  while  he  fell  asleep.  who  would?  nobody.  didn't  help  that  while  tending  to  the  animals  -  the  kind  that  was  important  to  vilem,  unlike  the  beast  he  sent  to  care  for  them,  zeke  couldn't  stop  thinking  about  the  old  farmer.  soft  him  on  his  lips,  his  rough,  calloused  fingers  in  his  hair  or  against  his  face.  so  when  they  came  together  again,  he  wasn't  quite  sure  how  to  take  it  from  there  until,  well...  you  can  wait  here  for  rory.  right.  he  was  allowed  here  ...  to  help  rory.  "don't  need  a  basket,  keep  it."  shaking  his  head  a  little,  he  sighed  softly.  "you  want  me  to  wait  outside?"

"careful  what  you  wish  for.  if  a  big  enough  group  bands  together,  you  might  have  some  actual  trouble  on  your  hands.  not  that  you're  going  around  seeking  trouble,  but  if  i  was  a  part  of  a  trio  of  brothers  that  you  attacked  i  might  be  cooking  something  up."  if  the  brothers  come  knocking  on  his  door,  he'll  actually  tell  them  to  leave  him  alone.  no  zeke  meant  no  help  for  rory.  the  old  man  certaintly  doesn't  know  how  to  raise  or  help  a  young  wolf  all  by  his  lonesome. 

he  needs  zeke. 

vilem  tilts  his  head  as  he  thinks  about  it.  on  one  hand,  it's  unfair  because  he  has  all  of  the  knowledge  that  he's  gained  years  later.  on  the  other  hand,  he  remembers  being  really  aroused  by  the  wolf  and  that  beating  out  any  other  sense  of  logic.  if  he  had  told  him  in  the  heat  of  the  moment,  during  foreplay,  perhaps  he  wouldn't  have  cared  too  much.  once  his  dick  is  hard  he  needs  to  release  somehow.  whether  it's  in  a  monster  or  human.  the  weakness  of  being  human!  “we'll  never  know.  i  never  got  the  chance  to  react  to  it  until  after  we  had  already,  well,  you  know.  there's  no  use  in  revisiting  that  anyway.  maybe  i  would've  just  fucked  you  harder  since  i  know  that  you  can  handle  it.”  he  chuckles  softly,  a  snort  slipping  through  his  lips  but  being  quieted  as  much  as  possible.  zeke's  right,  it  shouldn't  matter.  still,  the  farmer  has  his  faults  just  like  everyone  else.  “but  it  does.”  he  nods  a  bit,  not  wanting  to  get  in  between  the  man  and  his  respect.  “do  you  ever  think  there's  going  to  be  another,  at  least  in  these  parts?  maybe  someone  you  turn  is  going  to  be  even  bigger  and  badder  than  you  are.”  although  he's  really  not  interested  in  being  around  long  enough  to  see  that,  he  still  ponders  that  every  now  and  then.  “do  you  want  me  to  comb  my  fingers  through  your  hair  while  i  lay  you  down  on  a  couple  of  blankets?”  again,  another  half  joke.  apparently,  since  vilem  can't  talk  to  the  animals  nor  the  crops  his  part  is  quite  easy.  as  much  as  he  can  see,  they're  all  alright,  so  he  just  cuts  down  some  of  the  ones  that  are  good  for  picking.  there's  some  evening  primrose,  tobacco  leaves,  night  phlox,  and  moonflower  that  smell  just  good  enough  to  pick.  the  farmer  puts  them  all  in  the  basket  before  moving  over  to  the  fruits  and  vegetables.  some  corn,  broccoli,  tomatoes,  strawberries,  grapes,  and  peaches  are  also  ready.  he  brings  the  basket  back  and  notices  that  zeke  is  all  wrapped  up  too.  “if  you  think  i'm  picky  and  needy,  you  haven't  seen  the  half  of  it  yet  on  the  farm.  i'm  done  with  the  crops  though.”  vilem  leans  the  basket  over,  showing  it  to  zeke.  “thank  you  for  your  help.  do  you  want  me  to  make  a  little  basket  for  you?”  does  a  wolf  even  eat  fruit  or  vegetables?  “you  can  just  wait  here  for  rory.  it's  getting  late.” 

[deus-ex-mona]

such is the tale of a ✨chronically online hypocrite✨

[medicinemane]

I don't know... horrible things happen all around the world and it's not a competition

Atrocities are committed against multiple groups in multiple parts of the world at the exact same moment, and none of them erase each other. They all matter, all the people in this world who are being brutalized matter. There shouldn't be any line you draw where one group doesn't actually matter as much as another

You're welcome to prioritize your energy towards helping one group or another, but what's not ok is invalidating or dismissing people who are actively being harmed

Same goes for trying to figure out which social group has things worst (and lets be honest, always using a US lens)

Like... maybe the important thing is to prop each other up and help everyone get on their own feet rather than trying to... pick fights about if physical disabilities or mental illness are less respected (I'm trying to pick a more absurd example but sadly I've seen exactly that argument happen before). Maybe it doesn't really matter and what matters is helping who we can when we can

I'm tired of it, I'm just fucking tired of it. Support people, champion them when the world is just brutalizing them, but you don't need to throw a single other person under the bus to do that

Which seems to be an absolutely impossible lesson for people to learn

[r0semultiverse]

I don’t know, me personally, I just think two adults playing pretend & pretending being gross together with full open communication & consent between them is harmless, but maybe that’s just me.

[selvepnea]

Thinking about. That one post about art. And how it's never good enough. Since you're the one that made it. And how. It might relate to how I view myself?

[bunnyboy-juice]

blah blah blah blah blah

[tautozhone]

idk how to start this so this post is ab individual action, trying to motivate positive change in the world, etc etc

a lot of growing up in the US for me makes things feel more scary than they are. like it’s actually not that difficult to go out of your way to get a bottle of water or iced cup of water from some random drive through if you think you should do it. either fast food conglomerate or local actually, it’ll usually be cheaper than 5 dollars to get drinkable water. i try to have 5-10 dollars i can justify spending on water, and asking for change, because sometimes when i’m out driving i need to go grab water.

i do not do this for me as much as i try to do it specifically when i see someone who’s most likely homeless on a street corner. i’m sure one day i might do this and they might not be there when i come back, but what have i lost really? a bit of time and a bit of money that would’ve meant more to them, that i can hold onto until i see them next.

the pressure that a lot of people feel when they think “what can i do” comes from this grand narrative that the average citizen can singlehandedly fix the housing crisis. rich people? maybe. nonprofits? not in a day, not all one person still. what can i do is a question i ask a lot. what can i do, not just because it feels bad to move along like nothings wrong with the world, but what can i do that will do anything. what can i do that makes even the smallest change.

i feel like it took me too long to figure out a personal method to what i consider individual action. it’s taking time to get to my own financial stability to be able to do more. but for now it’s as simple as water and cash. not water and food, but water and cash.

individual action means a lot in small steps, go get a bottle of water bare minimum and the price of a meal if you can and then just give it to them. if it wasn’t such a miserably hot place where i live i would keep a pack of water in my car, which i still want to do for the sake of having immediate access to water to give someone who might need it- hot or cold sometimes won’t matter. but when it’s hot out, get cold water, if it’s cold out, a warm tea will hydrate more than coffee will as long as it’s not super caffeinated.

[fragglerockopinions]

The worst thing about suffering is that it still hurts when the danger is over but no one cares about it anymore because it shouldn't hurt. No one will ever say "I'm sorry that happened to you" especially when they barely say "I'm sorry that's happening."

[fellhellion]

Ngl, I’m not entirely sure where the “Miguel and Hobie hate each other” reading comes from, when from their like. One interaction i don’t personally get the impression they think much about each other at all shdhdjfjf

Miguel seems kind of exasperated with Hobie sure, but the tone of that interaction is relatively lighthearted. It’s more of a joke that by virtue of Miguel being a stringent rule follower, Hobie not caring overly much about those rules exasperates him. And Hobie knows it annoys Miguel and thinks that’s funny, thus prodding him again with the “I’m not even here/nah still here” routine. But there doesn’t seem to be like, genuine personal anger on either side. Just an ideological divide that actualises even further when Miles’ very existence provides another answer to the overhanging stakes.