#weaponized language

[vmures]

Want to know why I never trust the "protect the children!" crowd?

Almost always the people doing really harmful shit, or even very potentially harmful shit, to children are in that crowd.

They're often the type that circulate actual CSA materials as a bizarre gotcha to people they are bullying and calling pedos (as an example, remember the campaign against ao3 staff a while back were policy and abuse volunteers were getting sent this shit).

They are also frequently the ones to include graphic violence and implied or actual graphic sexual abuse in fics deliberately mislabled as General Audiences and tagged in a way that makes the fic seem like harmless fluff. All because they want to harass a group of people and don't care if children and teens stumble upon it. Technically children shouldn't be on ao3 (at least not as registered users since the ToS require you to be at least 13), and generally I say that it's up to children who do go to ao3 to be careful of what they read and mind the tags and ratings. But how can they do that if you deliberately mistag and misrate your fic.

In short, "protect the children" is more often than not a dog whistle. It can be one for the "we must control our children and everything they learn" crowd (frequently but not always evangelicals here in the US) or it can be one for the "I need a weapon to dehumanize, attack and traumatize those I dislike and this serves as both a weapon and a cover for my harassment and abuse of others. After all, I can just say I'm doing this horrible things to protect innocents even though I'm actually deliberately harming or setting up potential harm to children through my actions." Often it's a mix of the two camps. Ultimately, they don't actually care about children, it's just a nice smokescreen.

[downmystreeandupyours]

Rogan and his guest, former CIA officer Mike Baker, did a boo-boo by choosing to point out, and discuss, that a billionaire elite with a penchant for destabilizing societies and shorting economies is someone they'd categorize

[academic-vampire]

𝕳𝖊𝖓𝖗𝖞 𝖂𝖎𝖓𝖙𝖊𝖗

[bruciemilf]

I think Harvey has Bruce’s name tattooed on his neck. Bruce has Harvey’s name tattooed on his thigh. He also has the Judge in italic letters, carved into his spine, and Two Face, just on his ass. Even better if the other has absolutely no idea

[darkshrimpemotions]

I am begging everyone 25 and under to learn that you don't need a 5 paragraph essay on why a fictional character is Actually The Most Morally Bankrupt Evil Character Ever And Everyone Who Likes Them Is An Abuse Apologist Who Preys On Children or what the fuck ever. You can literally just say "I hate that character" and move on.

[mhaikkun]

the foxes hunt the hounds

[chocolatepot]

While I'm ranting about fandom, I have really mixed feelings about posts that are like "back in the day, we never cared about what anyone else was doing and you could write/draw/ship whatever you wanted with no backlash."

Because on the one hand, yeah, there was a much higher tolerance for dark content 10+ years ago, and I do miss that. Antis are bad, sui-baiting people for drawing cute art on one account and NSFW on another is bad, whump is excellent and I wish there were more of it.

On the other, said tolerance didn't exist everywhere and you're kidding yourself if you think it was a fandom-wide virtue. Ship wars were vicious and frequently involved judging female characters as sluts unworthy of $hero because they'd kissed another guy onscreen one time. There were plenty of places you weren't allowed to write anything but fluffy canon het or get judged. I think it mainly feels like there was some golden time of everyone being Okay With Anything just because we didn't have these massive sites where you were rubbing shoulders with everybody. On LJ, it was very easy to just interact with the other people who liked the same stuff as you.

And also on the other, the rise of antis/criticism of dark stuff/etc. went hand-in-hand with the rise of social justice awareness in fandom, and I have strong memories of people really resisting any analysis or discussion relating to bigotry or subconscious bias in canon or fanon because get out of here SJW! It's all made up and meaningless! Pretty much everyone was sorted into either the social-justice-aware camp or the called-people-SJW-unironically camp, and the former was going to be critical of what message your fic or fandom participation was carrying (in terms of sexist tropes, ship statistics, and so on) while the latter was going to be hostile to you saying you were offended or disturbed by anything at all.

I remember one time toward the end of Fandom_Wank (after UnfunnyBusiness had been split off to talk about conflicts involving -isms because people had come to recognize that not all drama is equal) when someone brought up an old wank involving people upset that in a particular fandom's AUs, the characters of color would frequently be turned into literal animals while the white characters were still human. Originally, they had been mocked because this was obviously trivial and not racist, it was just random chance which characters got turned into animals, etc. But at that time, post-RaceFail, everyone agreed that it was really messed up. And that's what I think about every time the "people used to not care about what you wrote" topic comes up.

[makoredeyes]

Lie in Peace

Think I’ve put an easy 50 hours or more into this this was the most beastly test of my extremely poor patience but damn it I did it.

The flowers are chrysanthemums, edelweiss, and a single black dahlia EDIT: someone asked about the flowers so here are the meanings, in short. (I didn't get very subtle with them lol) White Chrysanthemums: death and mourning, Truth Edelweiss: courage and devotion Black Dahlias: betrayal, deception. Lies

[bazpango]

A lawlight fan fiction where the NPA’s benefits package includes—mandatory—counselling sessions (their job is emotionally taxing) but they can’t use them because it’s too much of a risk to the task force’s objective in catching Kira:

Matsuda waltzes in with a stack of notebooks under his arm. “I read in Good Housekeeping that journaling lowers stress!” L groans. Soichiro—desperate for any crumb of autonomy in this investigation—fully endorsed the idea.

Light freaks. If anyone finds the Death Note and they hire a graphologist, the first samples they’ll want to compare will be his—if L has anything to say about it. He has to be careful. This will be a burdensome paper trail. With a second (well, third) notebook to keep track of, the mental load is at risk of becoming dangerously heavy—for even the best of liars.

Every morning and evening the team journals for thirty minutes; they are locked away in a safe at all other times. It becomes a sort of ritual for clocking in and out of work.

Light is meticulous. Holding his pen off-kilter to throw off the curves and edges of his penmanship. He takes to journaling like he’s penning the world’s most mundane, most detailed, most virtuous autobiography.

L’s notes on the other hand are borderline illegible. Each entry is merely one or two sentences at most. Sometimes just a word, or a string of numbers.

Strawberries too tart today, taste terrible

He is Kira

1600. 50? …

Misa Light-kun’s girlfriend

Watari. HQ. microwave mud cake?

Light-kun did not kiss Misa back

L feels it, something quiet and scheming in the man sitting beside him. He tugs on his tie. It’s something new, since they’ve started journaling.

Weeks go by. One night, he tiptoes down to HQ hoping to break into the safe and confirm his suspicions; to his surprise he opens the door to find Light seated on one of the couches, flipping through his journal and scrunching his nose at it. “Light?” Caught you. “You aren’t to be here after curfew. Especially not with that.”

“You’re one to talk.” Light’s eyes scan L and then flicker to the coffee table, where his own journal sits invitingly. L’s been got, and what’s worse, Light knows it. He always knows. L wonders if he’ll ever get used to it.

“Yes, but.” L perches on the opposite sofa. “There’s no reason for you to be reading my journal. I’m not a suspect in this investigation.”

There’s plenty reason, and they both know it. If Kira can anticipate L’s hunches, he can misdirect. It’s a poor bluff, but still it’s one that Light can’t cop to.

“I suppose your right,” Light says, lips tightening into a line. He locks eyes with L and closes the journal softly, tossing it on the coffee table. L scratches at his wrist, where the handcuff used to be. Questioning if this opportunity would be wasted by fighting fire with fire.

“Perhaps my journal offered some insight. I was thinking the same about yours,” L mutters, “…Kira is my white whale, I suppose.”

“But I’m not Kira.”

“Yes, you keep saying that.”

Light crosses one leg over the other. “And Captain Ahab isn’t someone to aspire to. I’d be careful Ryuuzaki,” he warns; sounding perfectly concerned as a friend ought to be, “or the task force might begin to question your aptitude. You’re beginning to sound obsessed.”

Snide bastard.

“And what of you, Light?”

Light stiffens. So begins the spar.

“Do you shed the work day off in the shower with ease? Is your sleep dreamless, or do you comb through evidence you might have missed? You are tasked to help us hunt down the most prolific serial killer to ever walk this Earth, and…” he raises a thumb to his teeth, “surely that can’t be accomplished between the hours of 9 to 5, even for someone as brilliant as yourself.”

He’s monologuing now. Leaning forward. Dangling the fish hook and begging that Light takes the bait.

“That would be a most incredible feat for any man,” L says. He’s got Light right where he wants him, wide eyed and stubbornly still. Careful not to reveal any tells, which is one in and of itself. “But you don’t see yourself as one, do you?”

Light scoffs. “What are you asking, Ryuuzaki?”

It’s a ruse. Light always knows exactly what he’s saying, and does this stupid little dance with him anyway because he knows he can. L normally quite enjoys it, but tonight he’s had it and he isn’t sure why. He stands, only to step across the coffee table and plant his foot on one side of Light, the other soon to follow on the other side. Light instinctively recoils until his back is flush with the back cushion. It isn’t quite straddling, because L is still quite hunched overtop of him. But it is an intimidating closeness. Obsessive, even.

“I’m asking,” L mutters, eyes darting back and forth between Light’s, “if you think yourself God, or man.”

He’s still an immovable force, a statue underneath him. But there’s a flush of pink to his cheeks. So, you are human after all.

“This is ridiculous!” Light huffs, wiggling, and for the first time there’s a tinge of urgency to it. “You’re not getting a false confession out of me, pulling a stunt like this.”

“That is not my intention.”

“Then what is?”

“Have I not made that clear?” L asks, and the patronizing tone gives Light significant pause. L looks at the wetness of Light’s lower lip and bites that thumb between his teeth. “…Or have you just tricked me into thinking you’re smarter than you actually are?”

Light, ego bruised and bested, smashes their lips together. He plays dirty, and spars with him until their lips are swollen and there is a tinny, metallic flavour on both their tongues.

God, man, monster. Whichever he is, L likes the taste.

[metamorphesque]

love me, devour me

― (@metamorphesque), Blythe Baird (@feral-ballad), Yves Olade, Alejandra Pizarnik, Hiroshima Mon Amour

˗ˏˋ☕ˎˊ˗  

[academic-vampire]

𝕮𝖆𝖒𝖎𝖑𝖑𝖆 𝕸𝖆𝖈𝖆𝖚𝖑𝖆𝖞

[seaweedstarshine]

Thinking about River affectionately calling the Doctor her “madman in a box” only after he's called her his “bespoke psychopath,” and vice versa. They each were called these words by the other before ever using them to describe the other.

Thinking about the way they defy reality for each other. How modern psychiatry elevates objective reality to gatekeep full participation in society, yet they shatter objective reality with love — “I can’t let you die without knowing that you are loved.” and “You are always here to me and I always listen and I can always see you.”

Thinking about “What's the mad fool talking about now?” and how Gallifrey ostracizes those labelled mad, going so far as to see it as failure in children. Thinking about “A child is not a weapon!” “Give us time.” and how Kovarian equates psychopath with weapon as a tool of dehumanization and control.

Thinking about the way the psychiatric-industrial complex inflicts violence upon those who deviate from psychosocial norms. How their relationship was born in violence, but of madness — not madness in a post-Enlightenment framework of opposition to Reason, but madness as radical compassion that doesn’t demand so-called rationality — “Every time you've asked, I have been there.”

Thinking about how neither of them chose “psychopath” or “madman,” but they both own those words as instruments in their own agency.

[wishfulsketching]

The dads and teenage Long Min, bonding and becoming a family

[tadbitsketch]

*throws Ellegaard page at you*

[leathfaic]

the exact moment ghost realises how hard he is falling for soap is when after "alone" soap turns over his backpack. there's a bunch of explosives and traps he built left over. they don't need them anymore now that there's better gear at hand in the safe house.

and yet. johnny made all that fighting his way out of a town full if hostiles. while shot. and ghost who's an expert at this wasn't even sure he'd make it out.

but looking at this display of creative and deadly adaptability? the fact that there is enough left over to do it all again?

i think that's when he fully realises why he was so keen to wait, why he was so upset at the idea that johnny might not make it, why he tried to keep him going with stupid puns and banter over comms.

[jaeffry]

être conjugations in french! ₊˚⊹♡

⋆｡‧˚ʚ🍓ɞ˚‧｡⋆

~ haru