i got the juice

Jabber’s an interesting character & villain to me because he’s like a FOIL to the fear of emasculation.

As a man, Jabber’s supposed to reinforce his social position through constant masculine performance. This is because patriarchy relies on a strange logic wherein masculinity is both superior and always under attack. It’s a contradiction caused by the fact that patriarchy depends on the domination of others to exist, so without a weak, helpless, and inherently inferior underclass to subjugate, masculine dominance becomes obsolete despite claiming to be natural, self-evident, and socially necessary.

What’s important to note is that both violence and sex serve as vehicles for power exchange. They allow a man to reinforce his masculine social position by subjugating another person’s body, through penetration or pain.

So when you apply this to Jabber, it paints a strange picture. The story seems to want us to associate violence and sex together whenever Jabber’s on-screen. His character maximally intensifies the connection between those two things because the association he himself makes between violence and sex is unashamed and gratuitous; every instance where he derives pleasure from pain is loudly telegraphed to the discomfort of everybody around him. He is designed to make a spectacle and draw attention to his perversion.

But what truly makes Jabber so perverse isn’t simply the fact that he uses violence for sexual gratification; it’s the fact that he’s a man engaging with violence—and also sex in his case—for the express purpose of being the one whose body is dominated and subjugated by someone else. And this wouldn’t be so strange because dominatrixes exist; masochistic men are a real thing.

But it’s purposely made strange because it’s not pain happening during sex, an act generally kept private out of shame and modesty - it’s pleasure happening during combat. It intentionally drags this subversion of masculine social expectation into the light by putting it in the middle of the battle field, in a shonen anime with a captive audience. There’s no modesty or shame about it.

Compare it to the insecure masculinity constantly trying to prove itself; the patriarchal man engages in masculine displays of dominance because his greatest fear is emasculation, becoming feminine, being seen by other men as weak and thus deserving of subjugation, being seen by women as unnecessary and thus obsolete.

But then there’s Jabber who perverts violence and sex, these tools of patriarchal domination, into instruments for his own physical domination because the thrill of being dominated by a stronger person, often a stronger man, is arousing to him; he is completely unashamed about that.

So, he’s somewhat immune to the fear-driven need to prove his masculine dominance via violence & sex, but he demands that his opponents prove that they’re “dominant” or “masculine” enough to defeat him, creating a situation where they are the only ones with something to lose. In fact, it turns into a lose-lose situation because, by dominating him, the opponent becomes an accessory to his perversion and an active participant in his sexual gratification; this is doubly threatening to a patriarchal male opponent because it effectively makes the encounter queer. But the alternative is losing or retreating from the fight, which results in exactly the kind of emasculation an insecure man seeks to avoid.

Losing to Jabber is made especially emasculating - because what does it mean to lose to Jabber? His primary weapon is drugs that leave his opponents physically incapacitated, weak, and vulnerable. You don’t even get to go out looking cool and battle-worn after tanking a strong finishing blow; no, you were pricked by his needle claws, and now you’re on the floor hallucinating while he lays there laughing with you like you’re having a moment together.

(can't draw so here's my trash graphic design skills lmaooo)

okay so what about a Drone Bee Zanka/Black Widow Jabber insect hybrid AU... am i cooking, chat please tell me i'm cooking rn

i even wrote a little snippet for it but i'm probs not gonna finish it. i welcome anyone to use the insect hybrid au idea tho bcuz i would love to read that

The colony had mass expelled its oldest generation of drone bees as fall crept around the corner—everyone knew it would happen. Zanka knew. The workers knew. And, failed by his own genes, Zanka was no better than a drone: useless at foraging, incapable of defending himself without a stinger, and only there to serve as breeding stock for a predestined queen. Each day, worker bees came to and fro, foraging for food and contributing to the hive, cultivating honey and pollinating flowers; but Zanka hadn’t even seen the outside of the hive before, its entrance jealously guarded by workers who hassled him for stepping too close. It didn’t take long to grow resentful toward the dreary fate of the drone—his fate. But Zanka had time. The purge wouldn’t take him yet. He’d only matured late in the spring, so he hadn’t had the opportunity to fulfill his sole purpose: fertilizing a queen’s eggs. Drones who had lived through multiple cycles and since become impotent, those who had expired their use—that’s who the purge took. He wouldn’t rot in the cold, not now, but the inevitable haunted him. Drones died quickly in the wilderness, from harsh weather and hungry predators to poisonous fruits eaten foolishly. And Zanka, for all that he was a drone, refused to die like one, wrung dry and discarded shortly thereafter.  So he planned. And plotted.  He slipped up once. That was all it took to doom himself. Zanka looked down at his body, at his arms and legs stuck to the massive web of near opaque silk thread; he tugged and kicked, intent on at least trying to get free. But, predictably, his efforts only amounted to sticking even more of himself to the web. Zanka clamped down on the rising heat of frustration and began to deeply regret leaving the hive.

Fandom: Naruto

Relationship: Sakura Haruno/Ino Yamanaka

Rating: Teen and Up Audiences

Warnings: mild language, slightly suggestive content

Word Count: 1632

Once, Sakura had dreamed of helping people with a surgeon’s touch, her hands sterile and steady, carving sickness out of the body and stitching patients back together perfect and whole. Now, though, as she hooks a needle through another stitch on her fifth attempt to crochet a scarf, Sakura thinks her hands are too shaky to hold more than her own incompetence, let alone another person’s life. She frogs the entire project.

“You’ve been working on that since last week,” Ino says.

“It’s not right.” Sakura strangles the mass of crinkled yarn in her lap. Her face scrunches like messy laundry, the way it does when she’s one mishap from breaking something; it’s an expression she hasn’t worn since high school because it pulled her eyebrows down just enough to exaggerate the size of her forehead. Lapsing into old habits doesn’t bode well for however much of her self-control is left. “I’d be a bad friend if I gave you amateur garbage on your birthday.”

Fandom: Vampire Knight

Relationship: Kaname Kuran/Zero Kiryuu

Rating: Explicit

Warnings: interrupted suicide attempt, explicit violence, mentions of blood, explicit language, slightly suggestive content toward the end

Word Count: 1413

A little dead already, Zero tucked the gun into his mouth. Bloody Rose gnawed at him, cold metal prickling through his teeth and the base of his gums, the taste of it bitter and acrid as smoke. Zero switched the safety off; then he leaned against the foot of a birch tree—old, stout, thick at the roots and trunk, leaves quiet under the marbled moon—and shivered. He was scared, but fear was an old friend beneath the stars. It burrowed into his chest as he poised himself on the edge of nothing and peered into the darkness, familiar but changed, an aged relic of childhood.

His brush with fear brought another feeling into stark relief, known from afar yet never in reach, a stranger that greeted him during hunts. It met Zero in the moments before Bloody Rose reaped another soul, when fallen vampires would lash out like animals that had forgotten how to flee, teeming with a hunger that faced the barrel of his gun and sought to save itself. That same hunger coiled around Zero like a lover as he faced his own gun for once, and he laid there, unmoving, caught between a bloodlust born of terror and his ascetic duty to starve himself. It seemed to Zero that time had bent around him and slowed to a halt, but, in truth, hours had passed in bated silence, the moon patient in its promise to secrete his last breath—until Kaname found him.

this poor attempt at dialogue for Jabber was making the rounds & ig I wanted to give my non-expert Black opinion.

imo the issue isn't just the slang but also the awkwardness of the dialogue. Like yeah, I can't really see Jabber using "blick", and he's never called anyone "shorty" canonically--but I think you could get some of the slang to work with better dialogue. The problem is that I can't imagine any Black person saying this out loud and it sounding natural at all, not just Jabber.

People were laughing about the "EJ" here, but, again, it might work in the right context. Jabber's known to give people names, and I could see him running into Enjin after they've met a few times and shouting some shit like "YO, EJJJJ!" at him. But you have to understand why a character like Jabber would use a nickname or epithet to know when & how to write it. Jabber does it to mock, annoy, and provoke people into fighting him.

Here's an example I wrote:

Lost in the sewer system, Enjin and Zanka wade through the underground tunnels with their shirts pulled up to their noses. It's dark and musty in either direction. Enjin's favorite lighter is the only thing illuminating their path as they strategically avoid the mystery liquid (no way that's water) running through the middle of the tunnel like a river. Another light pops into existence further ahead in the darkness. Enjin grabs Zanka's shoulder and slows to a stop, caution stirring to life in the pit of his stomach. He calls out, "Yo, who's there?" It's silent. And then a burst of familiar, unhinged laughter. "Ay, is that my man Big EJ?" Jabber begins to cheer out his name. "Woo, Big Eee-jay, Big Eee-jay! You still packing heat with that long, thick umbrella of yours, big man?" Zanka starts cussing. "Not this motherfucking dreadhead again, fuck--" "And you got Mr. Bad Attitude down there with you? That's two bad bitches for the price of one!" Jabber's whoops of excitement echo through the tunnel, the light from his lantern jumping in the dark as he races toward the two Cleaners. "C'mon, c'mon, c'mon. I been hard up for a good fight. Them other folk act scary when the Raiders come around, but I know y'all like to get freaky on the low. Ain't gon' blue ball me this time, right?" Enjin sighs, utterly dismayed, as he readies Umbreaker. He should've known the moment he got lost with Zanka instead of Rudo.

Semiu’s eyes warily track Jabber as he waves at her - like a surprise appearance on the Cleaners’ doorstep was casual as anything. He tilts his head in curiosity, locs falling in a lopsided curtain, as he asks, “You the secretary lady, right?”

“And you the hussy chasing Zanka’s tail.”

“Oh damn. A hussy?” Jabber wheezes through a laugh, clutching his sides like he’s squeezing the air out of his own lungs. “The fuck that even mean, Miss?”

Semiu looks entirely unamused, borderline disdainful. “You can relax.”

“Nah.” Jabber’s still giggling himself breathless; he even goes so far as to slap his knee, but it’s a mocking gesture if anything. “You too funny.”

Semiu’s gaze burns like viper eyes slithering through the brush. She squares her shoulders, tilting them back until her posture is impeccable and imposing, before pushing her glasses further up her nose bridge. “Keep on, you hear? ‘Cuz if you wanna laugh so bad, chucklehead, then I can get hilarious. We’ll be cracking up while I kick your ass right off the damn property.”

“Yeah alright. Go ahead and try it.” Jabber laughs again, all his disrespect funneled into the noise. “Piece me up, Miss Thing.”

His typical grin - wide, terrible, and full of teeth - crawls onto his face. The prospect of a fight brightens his demeanor until his eyes glow with excitement, like sunlight refracted through a magnifying glass until the concentrated heat sets the nearest ant on fire. Jabber leers, suggestive and provocative as can be, as he says, “A nice lady like you whooping my ass actually don’t sound too bad. I like a bit of sugar with my pain, you get me?”

Semiu sneers, upper lip twitching. “I forget you one of them freaky-deak types that like getting beat on. You can keep that.”

“Aw, c’mon now.” Jabber’s stance shifts, Mankira poised on both hands as he lowers himself into a crouch. “Don’t edge me, Miss. I thought we was gon’ get hilarious.”

based on the Enneagram

"Leech, bad omen, life-sucking parasite. That's what they say about me, and, well, they're not entirely wrong." - Han Yoojin, My S-Class Hunters, ep.2

NOTE: I use a personality typing system called the Enneagram as a reference for character analysis; here's a general rundown of it for the sake of time and avoiding carpal tunnel. moving on!

okay so... I've revised my take on Yoojin's personality. he's a self-preservation Type Three, and his emotional motivations are rooted in vanity.

awesome! what the heck does that mean?

in the Enneagram, the Type Three archetype (or e3 for short) is kinda like that kid in class who raised their hand first for every question, studied for an hour every day after school, participated in twenty extracurriculars, was a certified Teacher's Pet, and acted like hell would open up and swallow them if they scored less than an A grade. And their parents either didn't give a damn about them to the point of near neglect or had five-year, ten-year, and twenty-year plans for the kid's future laminated and stuck to their fridge, no in-between.

this is definitely an exaggeration and a stereotype, but it gestures at a person whose behavior might be rooted in e3 problems: the person who validates their self-worth by chasing external measures of success, who builds their self-image based on what other people value.

and that's what I mean by vanity - fixating on achievements and appearance to compensate for low self-esteem i.e. "I am worthless if I am not achieving/I need to earn the right to be loved."

isn't this the core of most emotional problems that yoojin experiences? isn't his perceived worthlessness as a "good older brother" and desperation to prove his usefulness where we literally start the story? isn't his overworking and exertion to the point of physical deterioration - literal blindness! - a consequence of prioritizing output and efficiency over his very being and health (an indication of low self-esteem)? isn't his partnership with Sung Hyunjae initially plagued by his fear that he falls short of the image and expectations associated with a high-status figure like Hyunjae?

even the way he constantly comments on the attractiveness of people around him (e.g. how "handsome" Sung Hyunjae is) indicates a fixation on appearance and image not only toward himself but also others!

the protagonist, Edgin, is still grieving his wife and hoping to revive her, but you’d expect there to be a female love interest they dangle as a ‘your wife would want you to move on and be happy’ option to kiss at the end of the movie. he has Holga, a close lady friend who’s recovering from the end of her own relationship and who helped raise his daughter with him, but they GO OUT OF THEIR WAY to clarify that “oh what the fuck, that’s disgusting, we’re like siblings, we would never”

and then they introduce Xenk, the perfect man.

literally the most altruistic, lawful good, paladin stereotype of a man, who Edgin initially dislikes bcuz he’s the same race as the guys who killed his wife, but then they save each other and he realizes “well actually he’s not so bad,” and Xenk clocks him as a good, honorable, and competent person despite how much Edgin no longer thinks he is.

and. hear me out: they made both Edgin’s wife and Xenk lightskin baddies BECAUSE HE HAS A TYPE.

obviously the main plot (Robert wrangling the Z-Team misfits into a reliable group) is eventually going to merge with the Shroud subplot. the final battle will likely be the Z-team after they've learned to trust each other + new and improved Mecha Man against Shroud and his goons. this seems straightforward.

the romance subplot between Robert and Blonde Blazer is likely going to merge into the Shroud plot as well. Phenomaman is clearly positioned as the romance subplot antagonist (since he's The Boyfriend aka the love rival); he's also presented as a FOIL to Robert i.e. the physically mundane hero that relies on gadgets and tech vs. the supernaturally strong "Superman" hero archetype. making him a FOIL & subplot antagonist with a squeaky clean image creates subtextual foreshadowing, the implication that he's an antagonist in other unseen ways. though I have to wonder if they're doing this to set up a subversion later down the road since it feels so obvious.

I liked the pushy news reporter during the press conference scene; he felt like an audience stand-in when he asked Robert "why did Shroud keep you alive?" because that's what I had been wondering since the beginning of the steel mill fight. Toxic had allowed himself to be kidnapped by Robert to lure him there, but he could've melted his restraints and killed Robert while he wasn't in the mech. Then, during the fight, Robert's told that Shroud "just wants" the Astral Pulse - as in, don't worry, he doesn't want your life. But then, they just allow him to leave with the Astral Pulse and then blow it up??? They obviously didn't want it that bad. It could be what Robert says, that Shroud just wanted to disable Mecha Man, but it feels weird.

“i’m not racist”

“you just brutally hunted and condemned an entire building of Black people to eternal spiritual enslavement”

“but am i racist tho?”

“…”

“exactly”

Premise: Han Yoojin, a vampire hunter, sneaks into an event hosted by the infamous vampire Sung Hyunjae, where he plans to kill him.

Includes: vampires, crossdressing, cursing & inappropriate language, self-deprecation

WC: 1062 words

Note: Sung Hyunjae doesn't appear yet.

A fierce spirit of stubbornness armored Han Yoojin’s heart as he draped himself in the silk finery of a blood whore.

Yoo Eunhye, the vampiric maid who arrived to dress him, stood on the other side of the bathroom door, patient despite his aggressive insistence that he could put on his own damn clothes just fine. She battled him on the matter initially, far more than Yoojin had expected her to, but he won that fight and now stood in the mirror mourning the death of his masculine image.

The getup looked flattering on him, and, even as he frowned at himself, Yoojin couldn’t help but smooth his hands down the form-fitting silk dress; the cowl neckline—delicate folds of loose fabric bunching over his chest—presented the illusion of a larger bust than Yoojin had, and, along both of his sides, high slits exposed his thighs and stopped just before they could encroach upon the most emasculating part of the whole outfit. The panties. The beautifully crafted lace panties that made Yoojin’s hands shake with rage and embarrassment when he slipped them over his legs. And, of course, the final cherry on top, a matching garter belt and fishnet stockings. He felt like a very ugly exotic dancer.

When Yoo Myeongwoo, his closest vampire friend, had suggested he disguise himself for this particular mission, Han Yoojin had been excited. Who wouldn’t want to sneak around like a top-secret spy in a crazy awesome disguise before killing their target? But this…this was…