#I normally don’t do ‘discourse’ but this needs to be understood

[bloodsweatandpotato]

As someone who writes/consumes a lot of dark fic (although not non-con), I feel the need to add on to this. (In agreement with the previous person)

People boil down this issue into very black and white sides. Either you think what fiction you interact with accurately reflects your morality, and that means this fiction is inherently dangerous. Or fiction has no bearing on the real world, and can therefore be created/consumed with no critical thought.

It’s really a mix of the two.

What you read or write does not make you a bad person or mean you condone (or secretly want to do) the acts you are read/writing about. If so, every horror or crime fiction writer/enjoyer would be secretly wishing brutal murder and torture upon people. Which… they aren’t.

However, fiction does influence life, and vice versa. What people see in media will influence their perception of the world, and people will draw on their own thoughts and experiences while creating media. This power that fiction holds does not mean we should stop interacting with any uncomfortable or potentially damaging topics all-together.

It just means that you need to sometimes take a step back and think about why you are creating/consuming this media, and how you are interacting with any uncomfortable topics. For example, many people say not to “romanticize” bad things, but what exactly is the difference between romanticizing and simply portraying?

For creators, how are you describing your topic (be it abuse, assault, murder, or mental illness), and does it make sense in the context of the story? Does your creation acknowledge the different aspects of your topic? You by no means need to make an essay on the morality of it, but just being self aware can make a huge difference.

For readers, it is much the same. Think about how the writer is portraying the topic. Do they show bias? Can you trust what they say? What the character/narrative itself is saying? If they do show bias or unreliability (either on purpose or as a flaw) this doesn’t mean you need to stop consuming the media. Simply being aware as you do so can help keep you safe as you read.

Wow this was a long rant… but in all. I just felt the need to it my two cents in. Tldr: fiction does influence reality and your perception of it, but that downs’t mean you shouldn’t interact with “controversial” or “dark” topics. Just make sure to interact critically and understand what the media is saying about the topic(s).

I really think everyone needs to truly internalize this:

Fictional characters are objects.

They are not people. You cannot "objectify" them, because they have no personhood to be deprived of. They have no humanity to be erased. You cannot "disrespect" them, because they are not real.

[velvetvexations]

the fact that i've seen multiple transmascs happily reblogging/supporting the "bomb that kills all transmascs" thing makes me so fucking sad. i feel like we've understood with other issues how "ironic" edgy humor can desensitize us to the bigotry within it- but now we're just happy to let people joke about wiping a group of trans people out of existence? we have no problem with this? we're gonna normalize hatred based solely on identity and not behavior (like how theyfab claims to only target transmigoynistic transmascs)? the bomb kills all transmascs honey that includes you, TMpickmEs i never want to hear people criticizing transandrophobia theory again if this is what passes for transfeminism

It's exactly that kinna person who I was talking about when I was posting about identifying when I was getting victim blame-y and too hostile towards someone being self-destructive, because they make me sad and it's easier to hate them than sympathize. I hope they get better.

Transmasc: acts transmisogynystic because they see individual transandrophobic transfems Everyone(correct): that's bad and reactionary, you can't blame an entire group for a small portion of traumatized individuals who lash out at your group who may have been hurt by individual members of your group Transfem: acts transandrophobic because they see individual transmisogynystic transmascs Everyone (double standard): that's valid, if you've been hurt by individual members of a fellow minority group that gives you free reign to act reactionary and generalize a whole group based on the worst of it's members (this is not a universal thing, but it does exist and I've seen the double standard. I encourage calling out transmisogynystic transmascs, I just don't like the double standard in certain trans spaces. Treat reactionary thought as what it is: reactionary. No matter who it's from or against)

they fundamentally do not care about other people

why is it called transradfeminism instead of radical transfeminism?

Ask Thalia Bhatt.

I love transmasc mabel (and also transmasc ophelia) headcannons cause it's very comforting to turn the characters I related to hard when I was a kid into transmascs.

Yeah! Love that for you anon.

I wanted to thank you for your level-headed support and the platform for respectful intra-community discussions you've provided. I hope you're taking as much rest and recovery from the stresses of the Disc Horse™ as you need <3 (also, idk if you bake, but I found a really good recipe for snickerdoodles that definitely chased away some of my lingering holiday stress www.ambitiouskitchen(.)com/brown-butter-snickerdoodle-cookies/ )

oooh thank you anon!

I like how jokes about killing all transmascs are fine but TRFs are still harping on about that one guy that said something about - (not that I thought the original post was in good taste but. I do feel like jokes about killing all transmascs are worse actually) Now that I type it out it's kinda horrifying that there's so many people that are theoretically supportive of trans people that think those joked are okay actually.. somehow internalized it as normal till just now

TRFs would say that post was code for something worse but idk if "we're open about wanting to murder an entire group of marginalized people" is a W

- was just stirring shit up with the gravity falls discourse to distract from her only answers to questions about 'tme/tma' language is to call people stupid and tell them they are lying about their experiences.

As usual.

The thing with “Dipper can’t be trans because then Mabel would be transphobic!!” Is that I’ve seen so many posts on this site that have had no problem intentionally interpreting a characters actions as transphobic for the purpose of transfem headcanons? That’s usually don’t get push back? Even though I’m usually against intentionally trying to portray a character who isn’t bigoted in the source material as bigoted for no reason other than headcanons or jokes I don’t understand what the difference is here?

the difference is that it's a transmasc headcanon

My hot take is that both Dipper and Mabel are transmasc, but Dipper has always known and socially transitioned very early, and Mabel will be hit with the "oh fuck I am also a man" realization in his 20s in the same way a Looney Tunes critter would be with an anvil or perhaps a piano.

such a funny image lmao and very in-character

[heyitsdrawey]

Is the world ready for my cabby/microphone brainrot yet…. is it…… are you guys ready……..

CABMIC/.MP3: A MULTI-SEASON ANALYSIS AND WHY THEY WOULD PAIR LIKE CHEESE AND CRACKERS!

LISTEN TO ME!!! LISTEN TO ME!!!!!! listen. pl ease.

TLDR AT THE END IF YOU DONT FEEL LIKE READING AN ESSAY XD

At first glance they’re very much the loud/bold x shy pairing, which is already great on its own, but it actually gets so much more complicated than that and even turns the trope around to swap their perceived roles! :3

To start it off, Mic isn’t the boldest all the time. She has self doubt that can be a severe hindrance to her potential to succeed, and her struggles with esteem and worth made her very vulnerable to anyone who would listen to her. Any perceived understanding, including, say, a former contestant in the woods, is something Mic is immediately drawn to (I will not get into Taco discourse here that shit SCARES ME). As a microphone, she amplified the voices of others, but her own is often dismissed and neglected until it’s too late for her to speak up. It’s what she needs, really—to be understood and valued for what she provides as she is, while given the space to express herself and be seen.

The thing is, Cabby, for a time, was very similar. Test Tube and Fan’s doubt of her files tore her down to such an extent, she struggled with the perception of herself for the entire rest of the season. It made her so insecure, she spent less time planning out a win strategy and more time planning out how to appear as docile and nonthreatening as possible, desperate for some sort of connection with anyone. And as shown with befriending Goo, Bot, and Yinyang…

She tends to find connection in the places she least expects it.

ENTER MICROPHONE. OHH BABY HERES WHERE SHIT GETS GOOD

This could go one of numerous ways:

Cabby’s a fucking nerd/aff. Her nerd nature is often dismissed over Fan and Test Tube’s (which I mean, they’ve been there longer and are fandom favorites, whatever x3), but she is definitely one as well. Microphone is one of the few objects with distinct abilities that directly affect others and the world around them. THIS IS GONNA BE INTERESTING TO HER!!! Not only just physically, but as she learns context of the previous seasons, Cabby’s probably going to take some interest in Mic and Taco’s whole situation (Once again, NOT getting into Taco discourse). She wants her perspective!! But there will probably need to be trust established before she can learn Mic’s true perspective. She wants this, and it’d spur an initiative to bond in CABBY. The one who seems more shy takes initiative!

Mic probably still yearns for some level of understanding. She almost had that moment with Soap before her elimination, where you can see how Mic bonds with people. Mic tends to connect with quirkier women just as a default (neurodivergent people know this one, don’t we XD). Learning Cabby has a file on her might be unnerving at first, especially if heard through the grapevine, but it would also spark some curiosity (bear with me here!). Mic knows how it feels to be written off as weird! She even helped Cheesy with similar issues, she has an intrinsic understanding of what that’s like, and will hear people out even despite their first impressions. Mic could get a chance at that understanding she’s craving. Better yet, she could give her own insights where normally people might not bother to listen! And that potential unease turns to excitement, as she realizes that not only is her perspective valued, but she’s actively helping Cabby as well BY GIVING THAT PERSPECTIVE TO HER!

Microphone and Cabby both have very nervous tendencies, for very similar reasons. Mic was often dismissed as simply being loud and annoying, costing her valuable social bonds, and making her almost hyper-aware of her gain. Furthermore, when working with Taco, Mic had to hide a LOT of herself and what she was doing, to prevent arousing suspicion. Cabby had to do this too, but with herself, as she was perceived as too threatening. Continuing to reach out how she was CLEARLY made her a threat (in her mind), so she had to lay low and be as friendly as possible, even to her own detriment, to prevent people from becoming wary again. THERES AN INTRINSIC UNDERSTANDING HERE!!! HAVING TO HIDE SO YOU DONT SCARE OTHERS!!! HAVING YOUR SELF WORTH UNDERMINED BY PEOPLE WHO DONT SEE THE FULL PICTURE!!! THEY BOTH KNOW THE FEELING!!! THEY CAN VALIDATE EACH OTHER AND UNDO THE HABITS THEY FORMED UNDER PRESSURE!!!! AAAHHH!!!!!

TLDR/IN CONCLUSION: Microphone and Cabby have a lot of frankly insane potential. They were both written off as weird by those who didn't see the full picture, when both of them were just trying to make connections. Microphone doesn't shy away from an ugly first impression. She's quite willing to hear people out and even help them if she can. Thus, she wouldn't be scared of Cabby's awkward social nature, and would welcome Cabby's interest in her with excitement at the chance to be heard for who she is.

With Cabby, Mic can feel valued and appreciated for what SHE brings to the table. With Microphone, Cabby can feel secure in herself, experience someone who's not only accepting of, but EXCITED about her tendencies, all the while knowing she's helping someone just like herself.

CABMIC IS GOOD. ITS REALLY AWESOME AND I THINK MORE PEOPLE SHOULD JOIN THE .MP3/AUDIOFILE LEGION. COME JOIN ME IN THE NEURODIVERGENT LESBIAN JOYS!!!!

Thank you to my lovely friend @frog-doctor for helping me proofread, format, and keep my facts straight about the earlier events, thank you @dreamy-okapi and @the-bow-zone for supporting me and this pairing before I was confident enough to make this post, and thank you YOU for reading and hearing me out!! :3

[beingcultureis]

Anon list

Intro/info:

Hello! My name is Tyranny and I run this blog!

I’m a polymorph and the host of a system!

This is meant to be a super inclusive blog for people (or others) that identify as ‘beings’ in some way no matter the way!

What’s the purpose of this blog? The blog’s purpose is to let people (or others) talk about their experiences in life! I suppose this blog was originally going to be geared toward non-humans but it definitely isn’t exclusive! Anyone can interact if they consider themselves a ‘being’ no matter what way that title means to them!

This blog is for you if:

*you’re a therian

*you’re an otherkin

*you’re a fictionkin

*you’re in a system

*you identify yourself in a way that isn’t seen as ‘normal’ (xenogenders, contradictory labels, ect.)

*you are none of the above but feel excluded in other spaces because you’re seen as weird!

Rules and things to keep in mind

This blog, as stated before, is meant to be inclusive meaning; chances are you will see asks from people who are different from you. No discrimination will be allowed for example

*Hate against systems (fake claiming or otherwise)

*Hate against people who use contradictory labels (M-spec lesbians/gays, lesgays/gaybians, agender pangenders, ect..)

*Hate against therians

*hate against alterhumans

*hate against nonhumans

*hate against otherkins

*hate against xenogenders

*hate against objectum

*hate against fictionkins

+ more

Will NOT be tolerated!

In addition, absolutely NO discourse will be allowed (like syscourse)

My system and I keep our stance on endogenics hidden and do not participate in discourse. Endogenic systems are allowed to talk about their experiences on this blog!

System experiences are allowed on this blog unless they talk about hate and/or syscourse, for example:

“Endogenic being culture is bullying traumagenic systems”

Or

“Traumagenic being culture is being anti-endo”

Would not be allowed.

There is no ‘template’ that needs to be followed and you do not have to put ‘being culture’ in your ask if you would not like to. It is understood everyone here identifies as a ‘being’ in some way.

That being said, if you don’t consider yourself a ‘being’ and would like me to post your ask please state that you’re not a being with in it! For example:

“Non-being culture is finding non-typical people cool!”

Or something of the sort!

[whathappenedtolilitkililit]

I think I’m aplatonic.

I’ve been identifying as quoiromantic for a while, which means unable to differentiate between platonic and romantic feelings, but maybe that’s not quite right. It’s a little tricky, because it aplatonic, being an aspec identity, tends to be tied closely to asexuality in the discourse, which is, uh, not me. I can’t think of a friend I’ve had since I’ve been myself that I haven’t wanted to fuck. And that’s difficult, because that’s generally not what people want from me.

I’m not friendship repulsed. Just, I can’t figure out what friends want from me if they don’t tell me explicitly. And what they want is generally stuff I’m okay with, just not stuff I strongly want. I want to be seen and understood, yes, but it’s a rare day that I’m in the same room with someone I care about that my brain isn’t screaming for them to fuck me. And that’s by and large not what friends do apparently.

This has caused partners of mine some discomfort. One of my partners can’t understand why I struggle with just being friends with people like this. She says I don’t have to fuck everyone, and I’m like of course I don’t, but if they wanted to I’d have a very hard time coming up with a reason to say no. Because that’s how I connect with people. That’s what makes me feel close and valued.

It always feels like I’m holding myself at a distance with normal platonic relationships. They don’t feel right. But I try to be what they need me to be because they’re my people. Maybe it’s related to the aspd or the autism or something. Or maybe it’s its own thing.

[frostyreturns]

People make up these contrived food debates and it’s become semi-normal online because everyone has this discourse area of their brain that they can’t channel into any serious topics without risking the wrath of some mob of ideologues. So people pick safe fake controversial topics and pretend to care very deeply about them. It’s also because most media is run by extremely left wing people whose serious ideas don’t stand up to any scrutiny at all. So subjects regarding political orthodoxy are just spoken of as a given and unchangeable fact that’s not up for debate. So instead of offering topics like can you actually change your gender they ask is a hot dog a sandwich, instead of asking does the government have any right to mandate medical procedures they ask is a toasted bagel an open face butter sandwich? 

It’s annoying because the answer to all these hypotheticals is found in the litmus test of asking for it. If I order x and they bring me y and I do not get what I was asking for then no it’s something different. If I go to a tea house and order a tea and they bring me chicken soup they have failed the task I have not recieved what I asked for therefore no chicken soup is not a savoury animal based tea stop pretending to be dumb. We have a colloquial understanding of words and that is more important than how it is defined, and you don’t need to fully define the difference between two categories of things in order to recognize them as being different. we do not define things simply based on what a book says it is... we also categorize things into specific subcategories for a reason. 

A hot dog is not a sandwich for the same reason a hot dog is not a sausage because there are specific differences that we chose to give different words and different meanings. If I order a sausage and pepper penne and it has little hot dogs in it you have screwed up the order. If I say I’m making you a soup and bring you a bowl of frosted flakes I have misled you therefore cereal is not a cold milk based, grain soup or whatever other nonsense people try to claim to be fake controversial.

It’s also a matter of spirit of the law vs definition. Definitions can be flawed but our understanding goes beyond words. Look at academia, whenever they want to twist someones brains into pretzels and make them forget what their eyes can plainly see...they alter and change a definition.

 Like hamburgers are also not a sandwich, even though it meets all technical criteria most people have for a sandwich it’s not one. It used to be, when hamburgers were invented they were called hot hamburger sandwiches. You can argue it’s a subcategory of sandwich but that’s not what people mean when they use the word anymore. They have become so ubiquitous and have set themselves apart as their own specific thing that we dropped the sandwich part for a reason. The form of the meat, the kind of topping and the type and form of the bread make it its own thing. It is a subcategory that broke out from the category and is it’s own thing it’s a sub category of a burger a word we invented for this specific category of thing. If I ask for a type of sandwich I’m not asking for a hamburger. A hamburger is a type of burger just like a chicken burger is another type of burger. What people mean when they say a thing is what that thing is, it doesn’t change what it is because you struggle to put into words why all people have classified it differently. 

What we have done is essentially the opposite of newspeak, we invented new words to better understand and classify the world and through everyday usage and colloquial understanding those words took on new meaning. These debates are not exactly newspeak but they do come across like an attempt to regress understanding back to the days of infancy. Where everything with four legs is a dog, a cat is just a smaller skittish dog, a skunk is just a smelly striped dog. And all new categories must be understood under the banner of a different category and justified as being different. 

Is a hot pocket a ravioli...no because a hot pocket is a hot pocket and ravioli is ravioli. Things can be very similar technically and still be other things and this idea that we need to sit around and debate what makes clearly different things different is retarded. 

If you disagree I don’t care it’s not worth discussion, I’m also not going to debate pineapple as a pizza topping, the world is burning who cares.

[humormehorny]

Look, I think the discourse about white neurodivergent - especially men and boys - is important, but I also think that a lot of people miss the other side of that, which is that everyone else’s neurodivergence is cast in this general “craziness” that is evil or to be feared.

I also think that it’s fairly inaccurate to say that there isn’t that much representation of neurodiversity outside of that intersection of white and male. I think it’s accurate to say that there isn’t that much cannon stuff, but I can think of many stories where people of color had these issues and were just labeled crazy or some other name for taboo.

I can’t help but think of the movie “blindside” for this. Because the main character is a walking talking stereotype that is the intersection of race, masculinity, and for lack of a better word - ableism. They ignore everything that’s under the hood to make a story that’s a white savior movie except that instead of saying “wow this group is actually human” they say “wow this kid is actually gifted(by using what is essentially the only thing this guy cares about as a carrot on a stick to get him to do ‘impressive things’. <im sure they are impressive, but like the teacher hated, and by hate I mean he thought that kid wasn’t worth the shit on his shoes, that kid - what he needed was for that teacher to do the bare fucking minimum>)”

For a lot of - Particularly autistic - neurodivergent representation conversations I am of the opinion that it’s important to allow the symptoms to be understood and normalized without the label of autism because most people now don’t get bulled for autism. They get bullied for autistic traits.

That said, I don’t think that this is helpful for people of color because of the way we treat neurodiversity in communities of color. We must call it what it is because we are killed and judged for our neurodivergence, not just because we have autistic traits, but because we are people of color and we are neurodivergent. This isn’t as straight forward as police training. This is the fact that many homes of color do not have the resources to get the diagnosis they need. Even if that weren’t true, it would still be quite a troublesome task trying to get the respect that they deserve from the medical community. It’s not just the violence that men with guns are capable of. It’s the fact that so much of autism is seen as an unknown threat and combine that with colorism and you get a bad time.

[cardentist]

This thread by broadwaybabyto on twitter [Link] is Incredibly important. they have the same condition as the person who anon is referring to, and they shed much needed light on the Specifics of how accommodations like that can be necessary. so I'm going to copy it over here:

Given the DoorDash discourse started because of someone with MCAS requiring specific food - let’s talk about MCAS. It’s a BEAST of a syndrome that can drastically alter quality of life - it is NOT just a histamine issue. It’s one of the hardest things I have to manage.

MCAS stands for Mast Cell Activation Syndrome. Your mast cells are an immune cell present all over the body & in the bone marrow. They contain histamine - but they also contain heparin, cytokines, prostaglandin & more. When they misbehave it wreaks havoc on the body.

I have MCAS and my case has proven particularly difficult to manage. It has upended my entire life. I wish it were “just” histamine but these pesky cells do so much more. In MCAS you have a normal amount of mast cells - but they’re overactive.

They see regular things such as many foods, scents, environmental triggers, sunlight, personal care products and medications as triggers & they attack. When a mast cell degranulates it effectively explodes - and in doing so releases the chemicals mentioned above.

Given one of those chemicals is histamine - many people present with severe allergic reactions and anaphylaxis but may test negative on standard allergy testing. You’re not allergic to a specific item in the traditional sense - your mast cells are misbehaving.

I will never forget my first episode of anaphylaxis - most people think of it as a sudden closing of the airway such that you can’t breathe. Mine impacted my gut and heart first & took nearly 48 hours to progress to throat swelling.

I had diarrhea & vomiting, dizziness, tachycardia, low BP and a sore throat. I thought it was the flu. I finally went to the ER on the third day because I couldn’t manage the dehydration - and I was shocked when the triage nurse panicked & rushed me into a code room.

Turns out I was losing my airway - that’s why my throat was “sore”. It was swelling but it was doing it at a glacial pace so I didn’t realize it was happening. My GI and cardiac issues were the early warning signs of anaphylaxis. I was treated & sent on my way with Epi-Pens.

I never figured out what the trigger was. I hadn’t done anything differently, eaten any new foods or started new meds. It just happened. I was told it was idiopathic anaphylaxis (ie no known cause) and cautioned to watch for those symptoms & seek medical help sooner.

Because of the strange way it presents - MCAS is often poorly understood. Many HCWs only consider anaphylaxis when a person has lost their airway. It’s a terrifying condition - your body betrays you. You don’t know why and if you need care they may not understand it either.

I’ve had to overhaul my whole life due to my MCAS. My diet is restricted to approximately 10 foods - all low histamine. It doesn’t stop there though - how you prepare the foods matters. Leftovers? Forget it. Food increases in histamine every second it sits uneaten.

Canned or processed foods? Same thing. Far too high in histamine and mast cells hate preservatives. So I find myself incredibly disabled and yet limited to only fresh food that can be prepared and eaten right away. It’s exhausting.

The GI issues that accompany MCAS only further compound this problem. Imagine being crippled by fatigue and wasting whatever limited energy you have on cooking a bland boring meal. Then as soon as you try and eat you start vomiting or having gastric distress.

That’s the cycle of MCAS. The exertion from cooking can be a trigger. The scents & smells of cooking can be a trigger. The heat or the strain of standing can be a trigger. But guess what else is a trigger? Hunger. You really can’t win. Hence sometimes people need delivery.

There’s so much more to it than just food - you would need ten threads to explain it all. Some of my worst episodes have been caused by neighbours smoking or cleaning their apartments, issues with my heat or AC or changes to medications or weather.

Even medications to TREAT the condition will often be a trigger. It sounds counterintuitive but unfortunately that’s how sensitive mast cells can be. Even when you’re trying to calm them you could be triggering them with an additional ingredient or dye in the medication.

As such you can never start more than one medication at a time (or you won’t know which one triggered you) and you often need everything compounded. Again it’s exhausting & expensive. Even when you do everything right there will be days you flare & never know the cause.

Staying ahead of my mast cells is a full time job. I understand most of my triggers quite well & can avoid them through lifestyle & dietary changes & restricted living. It means I have almost no life as I MUST control my environment at all times.

Even with these changes - I still experience flares quite regularly. While the initial response is often histamine based (think hives, wheezing, runny nose, itching etc) sometimes my reactions will be excessive bruising (due to heparin), flu like symptoms or gastric issues.

Basically it’s a constant guessing game no matter how knowledgeable you are or how many sacrifices you make. Avoiding covid is also a challenge - most viruses cause attacks. Unfortunately almost every respirator I’ve worn causes a reaction & extreme facial swelling.

It’s made my life very small. But I don’t want it to sound like it’s all doom & gloom. There are things that can help. H1s & H2s are usually first line treatments - Quercetin is a good natural alternative. There are prescription mast cell stabilizers but they are expensive.

Switching to a low histamine diet and avoiding leftovers & slow cooked meals can make a big difference. Freeze food right away and get meat & fish flash frozen. Switch to natural and unscented skin care, laundry detergent & dishwashing supplies. Get HEPA filters.

Everything you do to lower the overall burden on your body WILL make a difference. But it is a sacrifice - I sacrifice every single day. So if someone is criticizing you for needing to order delivery or for isolating to avoid covid … just remember they don’t understand.

They can’t possibly fathom what it’s like to live under the constant threat of anaphylaxis, to wake up covered in bruises for no reason or to starve for weeks on end because your body can’t tolerate any food. They won’t get it unless it happens to them.

Stand firm in your choices & know that protecting your health HOWEVER you need to is never the wrong move. When you’re able try & educate others so that this insidious condition gets more recognition & awareness. And be kind to yourself - it’s very hard to live with MCAS.

*Sees someone on twitter arguing that DoorDash is necessary for the disabled because microwave food is too much to handle.*

...What. That seems absurdly specific.

There are a lot of reasons someone might not be able to microwave food. "I literally cannot get out of bed", "i need nutrients you can't just microwave", "my dumb brain has put up 18 billion barriers to try and stop me from eating and this is the loophole I have" "the microwave in this apartment is out of reach/not labeled properly/not ADA friendly in another way" "for x or y reason microwave food is a one way ticket to severe burns", etc. I found a lot of reasons someone might need DoorDash and I also found this cool article about food sharing in the disabled community and how the author had to rely on an abusive partner once because she was either in bed or barely able to crawl and they were among the few people bringing food.

Just saying, there's a reason disabled people have higher chances of food insecurity and there's a reason meal trains, meals on wheels, and other programs focus on bringing food to people in need and not just assuming "they have a microwave and money, why bother?". Sometimes you don't have a family or friends or mutual aid group to bring you meals when you can't even pop something in the microwave.

[nol-an]

it was good until it wasn’t || n. patrick

inspired by the prompt, “please don’t make me choose.”

2k worth of A N G S T!! um yea haven’t written in over two years and this is my first hockey fic so bear with me. feedback is always appreciated! (this is not proofread and im sure there are probs some plot holes- oops)

__________

For so long, everything had felt too good to be true. Nolan finally accomplished his dream of playing in the NHL, and you had gotten into your dream school in Philadelphia. To you, there was nothing more important than pursuing a career in the medical field and being able to do that with Nolan on your side.

At times, the long study nights, missed plans, and occasional stressed-induced breakdowns made you question if you were ever going to meet your end goals. That feeling was definitely not foreign to you, but it didn’t necessarily make coping with the thought any easier. It was a weird feeling — four years of undergraduate school almost felt like too much yet not enough time. There was so much you wanted to accomplish, and you sometimes wished you weren’t so ambitious because the days where you felt incapable of being successful were the days that you wanted nothing more than to wallow in your fears alone.

Luckily for you, Nolan was incredibly understanding of your fears. While he knew his life as an athlete was drastically different from your life as a student, he tried his best to understand your thoughts and always told you how much he admired your drive to reach your goals. No matter how often you tried to internalize your emotions, Nolan knew better and never hesitated to be your rock. Be it in the form of verbal or physical reassurance, his presence radiated a sense of comfort that always brought you out of any illusion of doubt you may have conjured. 

He doesn’t tell you enough, but you have a similar effect on him. Your gentle touches, cute pre-game texts, and warm hugs never fail to bring a smile to his face. If he’s being honest with himself, he’s not quite sure what he would do without you. It’s not really a thought he has to worry about, though, because for what felt like a blissful eternity, the stars aligned for you two. There were undoubtedly times when Nolan and you would run into disagreements, but the desire to make things work seemingly mended any issues in the relationship.

That was, however, until everything seem to come to a head. With your MCAT exam date approaching very soon and Nolan’s season with the Flyers starting just as quickly, it was hard for the two of you to bask in each other’s presence like usual. It wasn’t something either of you really noticed, as you both understood how important the other’s career was. You knew how important this comeback season for Nolan would be, and you tried your best to let him know that you would support him no matter what. He didn’t have to say it, but you knew a lot of doubts were rushing through your boyfriend’s head and you almost mistook his increasingly reserved demeanor as nerves. 

In fact, you didn’t really give it much thought until Nolan came home from his fourth game of the season. As badly as you wished you could have attended, the remaining hours you had to prepare for the MCAT were previous and you reassured Nolan that you would be his number one cheerleader again as soon as you got the dreaded test out of the way.

Your nose was stuffed into a psychology textbook until your trance was broken with the slam of the front door to you and Nolan’s shared apartment.

“Hi, baby,” you greeted as you got out of your seat to hug your freshly-showered boyfriend. If the sound of the front door was any indication, you had a feeling that the game didn’t go as desired, and you didn’t want to push any touchy subjects. On more than one occasion, Nolan had told you how much he liked how he could escape from hockey in your presence. He loved that he could escape from that part of his life, loved how you made him feel like a normal guy. You thought this would be one of those nights where even the word “hockey” wouldn’t be uttered, but you were wrong. So wrong.

“You’re not gonna ask how the game went?” Your boyfriend pressed, his tone bitter. Pulling away from your hug, he turned his back to you all too soon and he walked towards the kitchen.

“I-I mean, you know I’m always here to listen about your games, but I just thought you wouldn’t want to talk about it?” you meekly replied, unsure of where he was going with the conversation. 

You weren’t entirely sure what the outcome of the game was, but you were definitely confused. Nolan usually didn’t like talking about the Flyers’ losses, but you were so sure something went wrong based on his dramatic entrance into your shared home.

Prompted by his silence, you continued, “Um, so was it a win?” you uttered, regretting your words as soon as they slipped off your tongue.

Slamming his water bottle on the countertop, Nolan’s actions caused your words to dissipate. Silence filled the room, the tension almost palpable.

“Well you would know if you were there, wouldn’t you?” he replied, clearly annoyed by your seemingly stupid question.

Alright, so definitely not a win.

“Nols,” you tried to reason, “You know I wanted to be there so badly, but I couldn’t. The MCAT is almo-” you were abruptly cut off.

“I know. The MCAT is only two weeks away and it’s super important for you. It’s been the same thing for weeks now, you don’t have to remind me,” Nolan finished your sentence, his monotonous and resentful tone making it clear that he had already heard the same words from you numerous times before.

Had it not been for this same tone, you would have brushed off his comment. You would have instead attributed his harshness to tonight’s loss, which would have been the third one in a row. However, his response felt condescending — like he was downplaying how important the MCAT actually was to you.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” you quipped. It felt like you just recited the most cliche line in the book, but your brain and heart had already started functioning at two different rates. If you attempted to say any more, your stress from the upcoming exam mixed with the rising argument you sensed would have surely sent you into a pool of tears.

“It’s just exhausting you, know?” Nolan started, “I know you’re busy with your own things, but it sucks seeing all of the other guys getting to hug their girlfriends and wives at the tunnel at the end of games while I know I can’t have the same with you. I mean, is it so much to ask of you to just be there for me? How am I supposed to believe that you want the best for me when you aren’t even acting like it?” he argued.

“‘So was it a win?’” he bitterly recited your earlier question, scoffing at it. “You could have at least Googled the score and pretended like you were keeping up.”

You didn’t know what to say. Your confusion immediately turned into anger and shock — you thought Nolan, out of all people, would have understood your situation. Not being able to wrap your head around his current state of irrationality, it felt like hours passed before you willed yourself to reply.

“I've attend almost every game of yours. I’m sorry I haven’t been so good at that recently, but you know how much I want to do well on this exam,” you seethed. 

You were trying to stay level-headed, but anger consumed any possibility of making the discourse calm. “My life does not revolve solely around your career, and I’m sure as hell not going to always be able to put my life on hold to make sure I know what the scoreboard of every game is.” You couldn’t help but let every one of your words become coated in frustration. You thought everything you were saying was so obvious, and you couldn’t help but become more upset with the fact that you even had to reiterate these points to Nolan.

“Sometimes it feels like I’m not even dating someone,” Nolan dryly responded. “Feels like all you do nowadays is drone on and on about this test. Is this what the rest of our relationship it gonna be like? I mean, I can’t imagine what things are gonna be like once you’re in med school,” he hastily commented, pacing around the kitchen.

Every one of his words felt like a punch to your gut. His words hurt more than your face let on, every instinct in your body asking —no, begging— you to flee your current predicament.

“I don’t know what to say,” you truthfully replied.

“Is there even room for me in your life anymore?” he questioned, adding fuel to the fire. “It feels like I’m always second to your fantasy life as a doctor.”

This was your last straw. Sure, you could have tried to see the validity in his initial argument if you gave yourself time to cool down. But now, it felt like he was mocking you. The same person that made your goals feel attainable was starting to break down your confidence. The confidence that he helped you construct was now crumbling, brick by brick.

“Nolan, you mean so much more to me than that. Please, I would never want you to feel this way, and I know we can work this out we just need to tal-” you were cut off once more.

“I don't know if I can do this anymore,” he cryptically stated, letting your worst fears fester around the kitchen that felt way too cramped now.

“Nol, please,” you pleaded. Your anger immediately shifted to dread.

“I want you to achieve your dreams more than anything, but I don’t know if I see myself in these future plans if this is what the rest of your career is supposed to be like. Do I even have a place in your future plans?” Nolan sighed.

Your stomach dropped. Even though he didn’t explicitly state it, you knew what he was hinting at. It was your career or him, and he was making it clear that having both in your life wouldn’t be feasible. As if he pulled out the last brick, you finally let all of your walls down. Tears freely flowed down your face, as you tried to convince yourself that you were hearing wrong. You wanted to scream it at the top of your lungs. Of course you saw Nolan as part of your future. Hell, he was the man you wanted to spend the rest of your life with. However, his seeming disregard for your career aspirations was off-putting and made you reconsider everything.

Your eyesight, blurry from your tears, tried to focus on the hockey player. Your dejected state urged you to reason with him, but you were unsure of what to do.

“Please, Nolan. Please don’t make me choose,” you pleaded. In comparison to your vulnerable state, Nolan was composed. It was as if he rehearsed this, his blank stare void of emotion. You tried to come closer to him, but his body language told you that your touch wasn’t welcome.

“I don’t have to,” Nolan pushed himself off the counter, “The fact that you don’t already know your answer already tells me what I need to know,” he stated. Grabbing his keys off the kitchen counter, he headed to the front door before you could gather your emotions and form words.

Your anger, confusion, and hurt seemed to weigh you down, gluing your feet to the ground. As much as you wanted to stop his exit from the apartment, your body kept you in place. With a second slam of the front door, the gust of wind from the heavy door whiffled through your long-forgotten textbook, the sound of the pages ruffling mocking you. The silence following Nolan’s exit was deafening. You never thought Nolan would make you choose between your relationship with him and your career. You thought you knew a lot of things about life, really, but this was certainly something you were not prepared for.

Your world was spinning, orbiting into a field of anguish and heartbreak. As if your brain hadn’t quite registered the turn of events, you almost thought about calling for Nolan until you were cruelly reminded that reaching for him was no longer an option. Your rock was gone, and you were lost.

[queerlyraging]

I am affected.

“being aromantic doesn’t affect you”

I’m in elementary school. I’m an avid reader, always have been and always will be. My favorite books are the ones with lots of action, and fantasy, and different worlds full of different lives and different people. Whenever the characters fall in love I roll my eyes and turn the page. I don’t understand how they have time to fall in love when there’s a war going on.

I only like the historical and realistic fiction books without any romantic based plot. I love the Little House on the Prairie books, even if Laura does get married later. I care more about the lifestyle than anything, about learning how the prairie children live.

I finally get permission to read teenager books. They seem so mature and amazing and developed compared to the children books, but they have so much romance in them. What happened to preserving family bonds and forging strong friendships? I roll my eyes through slow kisses and huff at the silent pining for someone they can’t have. It seems so ridiculous.

My favorite pairs are shipped, but I never see how they could be in love. I never really have an OTP, but I treasure my BROTP’s and collect their friendships and sibling bonds quietly. I try and explain how I feel about the shipping to my friends, but they don’t seem to understand, so I give up and quietly listen to their talk of how much the characters love one another, defeated by the overpowering majority who scream about romantic love.

I don’t hate the ships, I just like the friendships better. I seem to be the only one who feels this way. I am isolated. 

“being aromantic doesn’t affect you”

I’m in elementary school. I really want to be friends with this boy. He is smart, he is funny, he plays sports, and we seem like we would be good friends. Most of all, he reminds me of my last best friend, before I had to move. But I am awkward, and easily influenced. My friends tell me I must like him. I don’t know how to deny it, so I agree and follow their advice.

I think it’s stupid, but maybe I do like him. Maybe that’s how all this works.

Our friendship is ruined. He doesn’t like me anymore, friend or otherwise.

“being aromantic doesn’t affect you”

I’m in middle school. Everyone around me talks about who they like, and why they like them. I think that I also like people - surely, liking someone means you really want to be friends, right? I ask. I’m laughed at. I choose a boy in my grade to like.

When I get older, I’ll like people, I decide. I’m just not old enough. For now, I’ll hide behind being unable to date until I’m older, and for now I’ll choose someone who checks all the boxes my friends seem to talk about. To me, it just sounds like what people want in a best friend, except they’re supposed to be cute.

I make a list of qualities, find a new boy every year in my classes. I choose someone I probably won’t see the next year, and am never very disappointed when I don’t have a class with them the next school year. I wonder if everyone does this.

The ‘crush’ of the year tells me he’s moving states after I tell him I like him. I’m relieved, instead of sad. All my friends comfort me, but I don’t really care. They find this odd, so I don’t talk too much about it. I hate feeling isolated.

“being aromantic doesn’t affect you”

I’m in high school. I’ve been a silent observer of the LGBTQ+ community since elementary school. For a long time, I wonder if I’m anything besides what society considers ‘normal’, if any of the identities apply to me. I wonder if how I feel is how everyone feels. No matter what I do, I feel different than everyone else about love, because I’m so indifferent to it.

I discover the asexual community first, and then I find the aromantic community. I’m surprised by how much I relate to it, but I’m also scared. This can’t be me, because then I wouldn’t be able to have the life I’ve always wanted.

Perfect family. Perfect husband. Perfect job. Perfect life.

I deny it. I tell myself I don’t actually relate, I just want to be different. I’m just caught up in a trend. I can’t aromantic, no matter how much I relate. I hate how I feel. I just want to be like everyone else. Why can’t I be like everyone else?

“being aromantic doesn’t affect you”

I’m in high school. All my friends are in relationships. I don’t really understand, but I try my best to be supportive. At the beginning of my sophomore year, my best friend tells me he likes me, and has liked me for awhile. I ask my big sister what I should do. Do I like him back? For the first time, I ask what romance feels like.

She tells me it’s like being best friends, but there’s just a little more. I wonder what that little more feels like.

We begin to date, and I’m uncomfortable. He’s my best friend. Nothing is different, except we hold hands, yet the concept of dating someone… it feels wrong.

I finally accept it. I’m aromantic, and that’s okay. We break up. We’re still best friends, and he still likes me. I am okay.

“being aromantic doesn’t affect you”

I’m in high school. I tell my friends that I’m aromantic. Each time I come out, it’s a new vocabulary lesson. It’s exhausting to find metaphors and explanations and definitions that they understand.

One of my friends told me she thinks it’s sad that I don’t feel romantic love. I’m too shocked to respond. She doesn’t even try to understand, and I’m hurt by her words. I am perfectly fine without romance - why can’t she see that?

I can’t tell one of my friends. I think he likes me and I don’t think he would understand, because he says things that feel wrong. I find out he’s a Trump supporter and quietly break off our friendship. I can never be too careful.

One of my friends says that I’ll find someone who makes me love. He thinks it’s just a joke, but I am hurt. None of my friends understand why I am mad. He means well, but it’s like he’s forgotten who I am.

I can’t tell my family, except for my big sister, but she’s far away right now. They wouldn’t understand, they would tell me I don’t know what I’m feeling. My little sister would try and remind me of every fake crush I had. My parents would tell me I haven’t found the right person yet.

"BEING AROMANTIC DOESN’T AFFECT YOU”

I’m in high school. I finally get to tell my big sister that I’m aromantic. I wanted to do it in person, and I’m not worried that she won’t accept me. After all, she’s LGBTQ+ too and the only ally I can have in my house, because I can’t trust anyone else not to shame me.

I tell her everything. She’s pokerfaced. Later that night, I hear her laughing through my bedroom walls. When I pass her door I hear what she is saying to her friend on call. She is making fun of me. 

She doesn’t think I can be aromantic, since I’m so young.

She thinks it’s an excuse, since I don’t want to date my best friend.

She says she felt the same way, and that I’ll find someone like her.

She’s laughing at my identity.

I’m heartbroken, betrayed, anguished. In my bedroom that night, I sob for an hour, spiraling, hating myself more and more. She was supposed to be my ally in the house, she was supposed to support me, but instead she laughed behind my back.

The next day, I can’t look her in the eye.

“BEING AROMANTIC DOESN’T AFFECT YOU”

I’m in high school. My best friend still likes me, and we’re still only best friends, because he knows that we can never be together. Sometimes it can be awkward, but mostly we avoid the topic. A month after we break up, he tells me we can’t be best friends anymore, because he needs to get over his feelings for me.

I go to my queer friend group and cry for ten minutes before my two hardest finals, because they’re the only ones who might understand. This is worse than when we broke up, because then it was mutual and now it is another rug swept from under my feet, another friend lost because of my identity.

He doesn’t understand why I am hurt, and I am too exhausted to put it into words. My friendships matter so much to me, but my friends don’t seem to always understand. 

I tell him to leave me alone. I need to process this by myself. He tells me that we can still be friends. I tell him to leave me alone. He finally understands how much I’m hurt, after I try to explain. I tell him to leave me alone. He tries to comfort me, and I ignore him. After all, he isn’t my best friend anymore, because he likes me and I can’t like him back, and this is just another friendship ruined.

I am affected.

I was in elementary school. I was a kid. I didn’t understand. I felt isolated and different because because nobody understood I didn’t have a crush. 

I was in middle school. I was a tween. I didn’t understand. I felt isolated and lost and confused because nobody seemed to feel the same way as I did.

I’m in high school. I’m a teenager. I don’t understand. I feel isolated and different and lost and confused and angry and hurt because nobody gives me representation and I’ve lost so many friendships because I finally have an identity I’m at peace with.

I’m going to be in college. I’m going to be an adult. I don’t think I will understand. I don’t know how I will feel because the future is uncertain and maybe one day nobody will need a vocabulary lesson every time I say I’m aromantic.

I hate the world for erasing who I am, for enforcing a narrative where I don’t exist. I hate that people tell me that since I can pass for straight, being aromantic doesn’t matter. I hate that people tell me they pity me because I can’t feel romantic love. I hate that I’m never represented. I hate that my potential representation only becomes discourse.

I hope for a future where romantic love is not the only narrative. I hope for a future where my affection with my friends is not seen as inherently romantic. I hope for a future where society acknowledges I exist and doesn’t ridicule my feelings and identity. I hope for a future where I can find canon representation and not have to guess. I hope for a future where I am accepted by those not exactly like me.

I hope I don’t hope for too much.

[dreamofmysoul-tsc]

Elias Carstairs, Matthew Fairchild, and the Disease of Alcoholism

I’m very nervous about posting this but I think it’s important. 

Now before you guys scroll past this post, I’m gonna ask that whoever may read this take some time to hear from my perspective. I would like to preface this by saying that I do not know, nor am I claiming to know, what it’s like to face racism and prejudice everyday, nor do I know what it was like to be queer in a time that was less than accepting and terribly cruel to LGBTQIA+ folks. I will not be speaking about either of those things here, as it is not my place to. However, I do know what it’s like to live with an alcoholic. I do know what it’s like to have an alcoholic parent and I have seen what addiction does to a person and their family firsthand. 

Final disclaimer, I am in no way trying to attack or target anybody. All I am doing is providing my own perspective when it comes to the discourse surrounding Elias Carstairs and the differing opinions I have seen in regards to Matthew. I would also like to state that my experiences are my own, and are in no way reflective of every addicts’ experience or the experiences of their children/loved ones. Addiction affects everybody differently. 

I am also not a psychologist or a doctor; everything stated below are my personal experiences as a child of an alcoholic. 

Now let’s get started. 

CW for alcoholism, substance abuse, abuse in general, and death

Elias

When I first started Chain of Gold I didn’t anticipate how much I was going to relate to Alastair. Honestly, I didn’t have strong opinions about him either way; I didn’t hate him, but I didn’t love him either. That was until it was revealed why Elias was sick all the time, and what really happened during his mission. I have never seen alcoholism portrayed in a novel ever. I’m sure there are novels which talk about it out there, but I have never come across one. And for the first time in my life, I felt like somebody understood. There are countless characters in The Shadowhunter Chronicles who have touched my heart, but I will forever be grateful to Alastair and Cassandra Clare for making me feel like I didn’t have to hide anymore, that I was allowed to talk about my father’s alcoholism. Because for 18 years, it had been my secret. For my mother, it had been even longer. 

My father has been an alcoholic for my entire life. I’m sure this is common sense for most people, but an alcoholic cannot be a 100% good and supportive parent. Those two things do not mix. Most alcoholics are alcoholics because of shame, pain, or other mental health problems that they have not sought therapy for. I would also like to say that alcoholism is a disease. It physically alters the brain to make the addict believe that they need to drink just as much as they need to eat or sleep. When you are constantly drunk, it can increase stress or anxiety in everyday life and leaves the addict at risk of developing depression if it was not already there. Many alcoholics suffer with depression, general low self esteem, or various other mental health problems before abusing alcohol; these problems are then exacerbated with daily alcohol consumption. 

My father never abused us, mentally, physically, etc, and he never has. He carries a lot of mental pain and shame with him, which he has continually refused to seek help for. He drinks because he does not like himself; he feels that he isn’t deserving of help. He feels like he messes everything up. And as a child, I used to make excuses for him. “Well, he never hurts us, so what’s the problem?” “It doesn’t affect his work, so what’s the problem?” I was naive then. No matter how “functioning” they may seem, an alcoholic cannot live a completely healthy, happy, and fulfilling life if they drink everyday, even if it seemingly doesn’t affect their work lives. Alcoholics are very good at hiding their addiction. I cried when Cordelia described finding bottles in odd places, or when Alastair described how he tried everything in his power to hide it from his sister and their community. I used to find beer cans stashed under the kitchen sink. Sometimes I’d find them in the spice cabinet. I don’t like inviting friends to my house because I can never be sure if my dad will be 100% sober. I didn’t want people to see him that way. I don’t want to see him that way. 

I have seen a decent amount of posts on various platforms of people wishing Elias dead or wanting him to be completely x-ed out of Alastair and Cordelia’s lives. And while I totally understand the protectiveness many people feel toward Alastair and Cordelia whenever their father is involved (I love them to pieces, too), as somebody who is a child of an alcoholic, I do not and would never wish my father dead. The thought of it makes me sick. Thus far, we know very little about Elias and his personality. We don’t know if he has ever physically harmed Alastair or Sona. This is not to invalidate mental or emotional abuse either, which are just as terrible. And while he does seem to be biased towards Cordelia, which in and of itself isn’t fair, there has been little evidence to show that Elias is violent or abusive. Of course Chain of Iron could prove me wrong, but as of now, I don’t want to immediately assume that Elias is abusive. Alcoholism does not equal abuse, although alcohol can be an expedient to violence. I do not want to invalidate the Carstairs’ experience if that is the case, but I do not want to jump to conclusions either. Of course you can call me lucky because my father has never harmed us in any way. But personally, I find that insulting. When a parent is an addict, regardless of whether or not they harm their children or how involved they are in their child’s life, they will end up leaving their child with mental scars whether it was intentional or not. My father’s addiction and the addictions of countless others cannot be measured on a scale. Addiction hurts everybody it touches, no matter how normal the addict may seem to the rest of the world. 

I know this Elias section is already so long, but I have a bit more to say before I move on to Matthew. Alcoholics make choices, many of them poor choices. They decide whether or not to seek help. They decide to drink another beer. They decide to drive drunk, even if their child is in the car with them. It is a disease which completely takes over every single part of their life. And while it negatively affects their lives and the lives of their loved ones, that does not mean that they are undeserving of help. Any addict, whether they’re addicted to alcohol or heroin or cigarettes, anything at all, needs help. And they most definitely should not be mocked or attacked for their addiction or their attempts to get help for it. Regardless of whether or not they are in recovery or in the thick of their addiction, there is absolutely no reason to mock them. There is no reason to tell them to “just quit drinking.” There is no reason to call them a “junkie” or a “drunk,” no matter what stage of their addiction or recovery process they are in. 

I am in no way excusing Elias’ behavior just as I in no way excuse my father’s behavior. He [Elias] needs to be punished for showing up to a mission drunk and consequently being unable to keep those four Shadowhunters from dying. He needs to apologize to his children. He needs to apologize to his wife. And he needs to recover. Addiction is an ugly, ugly thing. It never just affects the addict. It leaves their loved ones with scars, whether they’re mental of physical. Personally, I can’t stand the sound of metal beer or soda cans being cracked open anymore. I’m terrified of getting married. I can never feel 100% comfortable or safe around drunk people. I refuse to drink. I don’t like thinking about how the only time my dad has been 100% sober was when we visited my grandparents for a week and he had no opportunity to slip away to buy alcohol. I don’t like thinking about how my mother has had to deal with this for decades. I want my mother to be happier. But I also want my dad to recover. Living with an alcoholic isn’t black and white; I don’t hate my dad. I hate his addiction. I love him. He’s my dad. I don’t like seeing him that way. I know Alastair doesn’t like seeing his father that way either. But no matter how much you scream or cry or fight with somebody, people will not change unless they themselves want to. 

Matthew

This section will be much more brief because many of my thoughts surrounding Matthew are similar to my thoughts surrounding Elias. I would like to touch on two things, however.

I have seen people talking about Matthew, or more specifically Matthew’s friends, saying that they don’t understand why they [The Merry Thieves and Co] seem to be ignoring Matthew’s alcoholism or aren’t doing anything about it even if they do realize he has problems with alcohol. Part of it is because of historical context; alcoholism wasn’t considered a disease until very recently, and the beliefs that alcoholics can either a) stop drinking whenever they want or b) are abusive, useless members of society still persist to this day. But the other, bigger part of it is relatively simple: people won’t change unless they believe they can change. Addicts need to want to change in order to begin the recovery process. You can’t force them to. If their heart isn’t in it, they’ll attend therapy or AA meetings a couple times to appease you, and then they will start drinking/using again. Or they’ll lie to you even more, telling you that they did attend a meeting or a therapy session when in reality they bought another pack of beer. Matthew will not seek help unless he believes wholeheartedly that he can change. He needs to believe that he is worthy of change and he needs to truly want to get better in order to begin to make significant improvements in his life. Of course relapses will happen, but the point is that he wants to improve his life. He wants to recover. No matter how much James or Thomas or Cordelia or Lucie tell him to change, no matter how much they want him to get better, he simply will not unless he wants to. It hurts. It really does. I’m not going to sugarcoat it. You can love somebody so, so much, but your love is not going to make them better. Your love will not magically make their addiction go away. To reiterate what I said about Elias earlier, you can scream and cry and fight and give them all of the love until you’re blue in the face, but if they don’t want help, they will not seek it out. Matthew needs help, but more importantly, he needs to come to the realization that he is deserving of that help. He is deserving of a successful recovery. Every addict is.

Lastly, there is something about Matthew and Cordelia’s relationship that has never sat right with me. Children of alcoholics are statistically more likely to get into a relationship or marry an alcoholic because it’s what feels “normal” to us. And while I have always wanted Matthew and Cordelia to become friends, part of this is the reason why I don’t want them to have a romantic relationship. I don’t want Cordelia to have to continue that cycle, never able to escape the effects of addiction. I want Matthew to focus on himself. I want him to recover. I want his friends to support him. I want both Matthew and Elias to have a successful recovery, because the amount of addicts who die from their disease every year is staggering and upsetting. Of course Matthew is deserving of love, but he needs to focus on recovering, both from his addiction and his trauma, before he puts all of his energy into a romantic relationship.

----------

Overall, I want Alastair to have time to be himself, to not have to carry the weight of his father’s addiction on his shoulders. I want Elias to recover and to apologize for how he has hurt his family, whether it was intentional or not. I want Matthew to forgive himself and to realize that he deserves to take up space in this world just as we all do. And I ask that you, whoever may be reading this, to try to feel a little more compassion for these characters and addicts you may know or meet in your life. Or to put yourself in their shoes and the shoes of their loved ones. We should not be mocking them, or hurting them, and we certainly should not be wishing death upon them. There are far, far too many addicts who have died because of their disease and their mental pain. When dealing with addicts or the loved ones of addicts, I ask that you try to support them and encourage them to seek help, whether it’s therapy or AA or any number of support groups. The effects of alcoholism and drug addiction will stick with the addict in recovery and their loved ones for the rest of their lives. Some days will be harder than others. But the important part is that, when those hard days come, they have a support system of therapists, family, friends, even people online to remind them why they are in recovery and to encourage them and their progress, no matter how small. An addict in recovery, no matter how slow or fast their progress may seem, is better than an addict who has died because they never sought out the help they desperately needed.

If you read through this entire thing, thank you! I really appreciate you taking the time to read through my personal experience. This topic is very important to me, and while I’m relatively new to tumblr, I still felt the need and the obligation to share my perspective. I’m not trying to sway your opinion of Matthew or Elias, just to maybe make some people think about this complex issue. If you aren’t a fan of either of them, that’s totally fine. If anything, what I would like you to take away from this is to be more aware of alcoholism and its effects. If something doesn’t seem right, speak up. I will be providing resources below if you or a loved one needs addiction counseling or help, or if you simply would like to learn more about this. If you have anything to add to this, would like to share your opinion, or have a question for me, feel free to reblog or message me in my ask box. Please be respectful, y’all! This is a sensitive topic and it affects everybody differently; I want this to be a civil discussion, not a witch hunt.

Thank you very much for reading and considering my point of view. 

Resources:

What is Alcohol Use Disorder?

SAMHSA (a helpline)

Alcohol Rehab Guide (this website also includes educational resources and a helpline)

Substance Abuse Helplines and Treatment Programs

How Parental Alcoholism Affects Children

[obwjam]

the tiniest jedi

okay folks, here we go... i’d like to introduce you all to my oc, Jedi Knight Jayla Nor’al! she is five inches tall, 22 years old and the former padawan of good ol’ yoda. she was knighted so she could fight in the clone wars, and now she’s off to help command her first-ever battalion! 

when i rewatched clone wars recently i basically took note of episodes where a tiny could fit into the plot (spoiler: there’s a lot lol) so this is part 1 of the first installment of me recreating the filoniverse into the obwjamverse

i hope y’all enjoy <3 love you all sm

the hidden enemy, part 1

>> part two

To say Jedi Knight Jayla Nor’al was nervous would be a tremendous understatement.

It had taken a lot of convincing that bordered on begging to get the council to agree to this. Having Anakin vouch for her seemed like a good idea in theory, but in practice it usually ended with Obi-Wan rubbing his eyes while the council fiercely debated the merits of Anakin’s argument. 

Anakin was always sticking up for her. She was a few years older than he was, but more than anyone, he understood what it was like to have a tough life. They first met one day when he was a padawan, no more than 13 years old. Obi-Wan was sent off on a mission by himself to retrieve a holocron and a disgruntled Anakin went to Yoda to continue his training. He was far more advanced than the group of younglings he was with, but before he could complain too much, something -- no, someone -- caught his eye.

She was standing on a table at all of five inches tall, arms crossed in a dim corner of the room. The other younglings were practicing basic combat stances. She looked rather bored with it all. Anakin would have probably glossed right over her if it wasn’t for the tunic she was wearing.

“Master Yoda, who is that?” Anakin asked while the group was taking a break. She had now sat down, cross-legged, with her eyes closed and her shoulders relaxed. He marveled at how her tiny silhouette almost blended in with the scenery entirely.

“My padawan, she is,” Yoda stated. 

“Padawan?” Anakin was shocked. Obi-Wan never told him Yoda had a padawan.

Yoda hummed. “Surprised, you are, hmm?”

Anakin could only nod as Yoda trotted over to her. “Well, it’s… she’s…”

“Padawan Nor’al, ready, you are?” he asked quietly. Anakin gasped at how Yoda practically towered over this tiny person. She calmly opened her eyes and gave a single nod.

“Younglings, gather here,” Yoda called out to the group. He nodded to Anakin, who curiously followed. He heard a couple of the other younglings snicker in disbelief. “Demonstrate Form III, my padawan will. Close attention to footwork, you must pay.”

Anakin’s eyes widened as a training remote whirred to life. To a normal-sized person, practicing with a remote could sting if you didn’t know know what you were doing. But she was not a normal-sized person. That remote must look like a tank to her!

“Master Yoda--” Anakin started, but Yoda held his hand up.

“You may begin.”

What Anakin witnessed next may or may not have changed his life. 

It was like she knew where the blasts were going before they were even fired. She was so quick that Anakin’s eyes could barely adjust to the blinding speed she seemed to be moving at. She firmly stood her ground as she deflected blast after blast, her eyes moving wildly as she deciphered the shooting pattern of the remote. She found her opening, charged forward, leaped up and sunk her lightsaber straight through the metal. The droid sputtered and sparked before falling to the table, lifeless. She hopped down and gave Yoda a small bow as if nothing had even happened.

“Thank you, padawan. Continue to practice, younglings. Much work to do, you have.”

Still in shock, the younglings picked up their sabers and began to practice, some yelping in surprise when the blasts stung at their legs. She had made it look so easy.

She was taking note of the younglings’ form when she paused to raise her eyebrow. Anakin was still standing there.

“Staring is rude,” she said shortly. Looking at her up close, Anakin could clearly see how she was nervously eyeing him.

“That was really cool,” he said, crouching down a bit so he didn’t loom too large. 

She gave a small smirk. “Master Yoda is a good teacher.”

“What’s your name?”

“I’m Jayla... Jayla Nor’al,” she said, giving Anakin heavy side-eye. What does he want?

“My name’s Anakin. I’m Master Kenobi’s padawan.”

“Anakin Skywalker?” she asked incredulously. “What -- what are you doing here?”

“My master is on a mission and didn’t want to take me.” 

She scoffed. “That’s silly. Padawans should always be with their masters to learn.”

“Tell that to Obi-Wan,” Anakin sighed. “Does Master Yoda take you on missions with him?”

Anakin’s lips pursed into a frown as she sat down, looking dejected. “Mostly, yeah. But sometimes I think he thinks I’m too… well… you know.”

“Too small.”

She gave him a surprised look. “Yeah.”

“A little ironic, coming from him.”

Jayla laughed. “You can’t say that!”

Anakin laughed back. “Sure I can.”

It was hard for Jayla to really grow close to anyone, no matter how hard she tried to befriend the others. Anakin knew exactly how that felt. The two were lonely, and they found each other. Their friendship only grew stronger as they got older -- Jayla helped Anakin learn to trust in the Force more and Anakin helped Jayla grow her confidence. Obi-Wan admired how well they complimented each other.

Yoda eventually began to take Jayla on more dangerous missions. Spending time with Anakin and Obi-Wan had diversified her skill set more than most padawans and, as the Jedi Council sensed the growing discourse between the light and the dark, Jayla and Anakin were both knighted so they could fight in the Clone War.

But everyone had underestimated the fierceness and enormity of the conflict.

It was evident from the beginning of her training that Jayla was fearless -- that she would not let her size stop her from doing anything. She was a fierce negotiator; a skilled fighter; she had a deep and powerful connection to the Force. And yet, her size was the very thing stopping the council from giving her any responsibilities outside of putting together training recordings, teaching younglings and spearheading negotiations.

“I can’t believe this,” Jayla groaned to Obi-Wan one rare quiet day on Coruscant. Anakin was off on a recon mission. Obi-Wan had duties to attend to, but he would always take a pause to talk with Jayla.

“If Master Yoda and the council feel this is for the best, then you need to listen.”

“I didn’t become a Jedi to play it safe. I just… I don’t understand why Yoda keeps babying me.”

“You’ve only recently become a Jedi knight,” Obi-Wan pointed out. “You need to be patient.”

“Yeah, the council did that so I could fight in the war.” Jayla got up, pacing around the windowsill. “I mean, it doesn’t make sense! I’m trained in combat. I have useful skills. I’ve been out there before, Obi-Wan! Why spend my entire life telling me ‘size matters not, hmm’, then use it as a reason to hold me back?”

Obi-Wan frowned. He hated how her frame seemed to get swallowed up by the bustling backdrop of the Republic captial outside.

“Can I be honest?” Obi-Wan asked slowly. Jayla’s expression softened as she plopped down, resting her elbows on her knees and meeting Obi-Wan’s gaze a few feet from her. 

“Always.” 

“Well, I shouldn’t really tell you this, but I think it’s important that you know. The council has its reservations, but they mostly agree that you are more than capable of being a general. It’s… it’s the Chancellor who has persuaded them into keeping you here.”

“The Chancellor? Why would he care?”

“It’s my understanding that many in the senate feel it would be a sign of weakness if you were to command a battalion.”

“That’s ridiculous! It’s not even the senate’s decision to make!” she cried.

“On military matters, it is. And until Chancellor Palpatine changes his mind, then I’m afraid there’s nothing that can be done.”

Jayla tried to forget about that conversation every time she got upset. But as the conflict raged on and Republic forces took beating after beating on the Outer Rim worlds, Obi-Wan felt the situation was becoming dire. It was less about who had strength and more about who had the tactical advantage. The better strategy. The better intelligence. 

Yoda too felt desperate. He was engulfed in the war and convinced that winning it was the only way to save the galaxy from certain doom. He heard the plight of his former padawan day after day, to the point where he began to question if his gut feeling was really right. He hadn’t been meditating as much lately. The Force always gave him the guidance he needed. Between Anakin, Obi-Wan and her own former master, the council was able to convince Palpatine that allowing her to lead stealth and recon missions was a perfectly reasonable starting point.

Since it was nearly impossible to plant a conventional spy into the droid army, Jalya and Anakin had conspired and came up with the idea of using her as a spy. Mace Windu was concerned about her being captured. Anakin argued that her life sign registered so faintly on scanners that capture wasn’t as easy as it seemed. Ki-Adi-Mundi feared she would get lost in the blur of so much violence. Obi-Wan said that all she needed was a wrist comm and someone to use as transportation and protection.

So after months of debating, planning, talking to Yoda and gear-building, the perfect situation had arisen. Today, it was finally going to happen.

And she… didn’t know how to feel.

She was accompanying Anakin and Obi-Wan on the Resolute to Christophsis, where the GAR was getting whalloped day after day. Most recently, a secret plan was thwarted before it had even gotten underway. It was obvious that the Separatists were somehow accessing Republic intelligence. And it was Jayla’s job to find out how.

“You’re not nervous, are you?”

From the comfort and privacy of sleeping quarters, she was perched pensively on Anakin’s shoulder; which, in retrospect, was probably a bad place to be with the way she was fiddling with her hands and bouncing her leg. 

“Don’t ask me that when you already know the answer,” Jayla mumbled. 

“I didn’t, actually, but thanks for confirming it for me.”

Jayla groaned. “I’m not nervous about going into the field.”

“Good. You shouldn’t be.”

“It’s…” she started, but couldn’t bring herself to admit. She was hoping Anakin could connect the dots.

“It’s… what? It’s the ship?” Anakin knew how much she hated flying.

“This isn’t my first Star Destroyer. It’s the starfighters that make me sick.”

“Okay, so it’s not the ship. Is it Obi-Wan?”

Jayla sniffed a laugh. “Why would it be Obi-Wan?”

“Well, it took a little bit of convincing to get him to agree to this.”

“You mean a lot of convincing,” she sighed. “I can personally guarantee you that Obi-Wan is not making me nervous.”

“Well, Tiny, I’m at a loss--” 

Anakin was cut off at the sound of his wrist comm beeping. She quickly grabbed onto a stray piece of his hair for support as he moved his arm up.

“Anakin, Jayla, come meet me at the bridge. Captain Rex will be arriving here shortly.”

“Copy that.” Anakin turned his head slightly to meet Jayla’s gaze, and the Force flashed in a brief moment of worry. Anakin furrowed his brows.

“You’re nervous about Rex?”

Jayla sucked in a deep breath. “No -- not particularly -- no. No, I’m not nervous about Rex.”

Anakin knew she was lying, but he wasn’t about to push it. After all, he didn’t want Obi-Wan lecturing him for being late. Again.

Jayla clung to Anakin’s robe as they made their way through the gray halls of the ship. Even from her perspective, the walls seemed suffocating, so Jayla kept her eyes trained on the ground, avoiding the gaze of every trooper that passed. The rigidness of clone armor was… off-putting.

As they approached the bridge doors, Jayla cautiously took a seat and closed her eyes. When all else failed, the Force was always there for her, guiding her and bringing her to a place where she felt at ease. Going into this mission with any apprehension would be fatal, and she knew it. The Force was pulling her toward the battlefield -- to Anakin, to Obi-Wan, to the citizens of the worlds they were helping to protect. The Jedi Order was her life, and that meant she was forever in service to the people of the galaxy that needed her. She was chosen by the will of the Force; bestowed this great power that so many lusted after. In the galaxy’s biggest conflict, she could finally start making a difference. She could finally be worthy of the gift she was given.

“There’s gonna be a lot of clones in there, you know.” Anakin’s tongue-in-cheek remark broke her from her meditation. “You could always turn back and let me and Obi-Wan handle this.”

Jayla sniffed a laugh. “And let you have all the fun? I’m alright, Anakin, I promise.” She paused, took one glance up at her giant friend, and stood up. “I’m ready for this.”

Anakin smirked. “Well then, here we go.”

The vastness and buzzing energy of the bridge brought about a sensation that Jayla would never get tired of. There were clones on the lower levels punching buttons and pulling levers; there were clones standing around tables, going over strategy and making sure they were ready for the fight. Then there was Obi-Wan, standing in front of a star map and pretending to read it. His mind was occupied with other things.

Anakin nodded his head to Obi-Wan. “Master.”

“Ah, Anakin. And here I thought you’d show up late.”

“For Tiny’s first mission as a general? I wouldn’t dream of it.”

“Is now really the best time to bring up nicknames?” Jayla groaned. It was times like these she was glad she was small; nobody could see her blush.

“I thought it’d help loosen the tension.”

“Sure you did.” She wasn’t going to admit it, but in his weird Skywalker way, it did help bring her back down to earth. This was her first mission as a military general. She outranked nearly everyone in the room. To the clones, that meant everything. Even if they didn’t want to listen to her… they had to.

It was then she noticed a tiny brown bag on the holotable below. Just poking out of the side was something that looked like armor. 

Armor fit for a tiny.

She slid off Anakin’s shoulder and flipped down to the holotable. Obi-Wan couldn’t help but grin as she pulled out two shoulder pads, two wrist guards, a pair of black gloves and a torso pad. They fit perfectly.

“We couldn’t have you going out in the field unprepared,” Obi-Wan said as she practiced some stances in her new armor.

“Huh. You look like a tiny Obi-Wan,” Anakin smiled.

“I thought we were done with the degrading comments,” you said smugly.

“Oh, very funny, you two. It’s a wonder the council took this long to allow you both to work together.”

Jayla was prepared for another quip when the main door slid open. Her eyes first fell on the wide shoulder wing, then to the Jaig eyes painted on his helmet. She had never seen clone armor quite like what Rex was wearing. She blinked and straightened her posture.

“Captain Rex. Nice of you to finally join us,” Anakin joked.

“Sorry sir. Needed to help Fives find his other blaster.”

“He lost it again?”

“...more like misplaced,” Rex clarified.

“Good to see your troops are on top of things, Anakin,” Obi-Wan quipped.

“Sorry sir,” Rex repeated. Jayla could sense… unease. “So, where’s the new general?”

Anakin’s lips curled into a smile. He had told Rex that the 501st was to be accompanied on this mission by a Jedi knight who was a master of stealth. When Rex asked who it was, Anakin refused to say. He wanted it to be a surprise.

“Rex, I’d like you to meet Jedi General Jayla Nor’al.”

Rex was glad he had kept his helmet on, because the look of confusion on his face would not have done him any more favors. 

“Uh… sir?” Rex asked cautiously, trying his best not to sound too lost. Is this some kind of joke?

“You know, I think it’s helpful to scan the entire room before saying something.”

Rex’s stomach dropped. That voice… that voice was coming from the holotable. Ever so slowly, he tilted his head down. He tried to keep his body language as neutral as possible, but he had a sinking feeling that all three Jedi in the room could sense his surprise.

“Oh,” was all Rex could utter for a moment. It was like this Jedi had stepped right out of a holoprojector and onto the table in front of him. This has to be some kind of test. She’s only a few inches tall! She won’t survive five seconds out on the battlefield. 

Anakin cleared his throat. Rex snapped back to attention.

“Right. Uh, sorry about that, sir,” Rex fumbled, giving this General Nor’al a nod of acknowledgment. “Nice… nice to meet you.”

Rex tensed up when Jayla ever so slightly rolled her eyes. He was surprised he could even see her do that.

“Likewise, Captain. General Skywalker has told me all about you.” She smiled softly when she sensed Rex’s heartbeat escalating. “All good things, of course.” 

She turned to Obi-Wan and, without either of them saying a word, Obi-Wan placed his hand next to Jayla and she casually stepped on, using his thumb for support as she was lifted up from the holotable.

“You’re going to be offering General Nor’al support in the field,” Obi-Wan said, tapping the holotable to life. “We’ve drawn up a plan to get her to the chief tactical droid stationed here to extract information and battle strategy.”

“I think we can finally turn the tide if we can get ahead of the Seps like they seem to keep getting ahead of us,” Jayla added. “Once I get the information, I’ll need an extraction team to get me out of there quickly.” Without warning, her tone shifted from stern to somber. “The last thing I need is to be caught by those stupid battle droids.”

Obi-Wan and Anakin exchanged a brief glance.

“I’ve got to finish some mission prep,” she said quickly. “When are we getting to Christophsis?”

“Should be there within the hour, sir,” Rex replied immediately. 

“Great.” She tried to peer through Rex’s helmet, but unsurprisingly, she only had the downturned expression plastered on the front to work with. Rex was not expecting to see a five-inch-tall Jedi -- that much was obvious. Her worry lied more in the possibility that she was embarrassing him just by being here. 

“I’m sure Anakin will become bored and come join us in, oh, five minutes or so,” Obi-Wan cut into her thoughts with a smug smile, throwing a glance to his friend as he walked out.

“For mission prep? You know me so well,” Anakin shot back with a smirk, turning back to the window. 

Before Obi-Wan left the room, he turned to Rex, who was all but frozen to his spot.

“Do come and join us when you’re done here,” he said shortly. Rex could only nod.

Once the doors finally closed behind him, he stiffly made his way to Anakin’s side and took off his helmet.

“Rex…” Anakin sighed, already prepared for the conversation they were about to have.

“Sir, you know I mean no disrespect…” Rex paused to see if Anakin would say something witty to that. He didn’t. “...but I’m not sure how well my men are going to respond to taking orders from someone who can fit in the palm of their hand. Especially someone who hasn’t done this before.”

“Rex, she’s a Jedi knight, just like me. She wouldn’t have achieved that rank if she wasn’t fully capable.”

“I--I believe you, General. It’s just… well, they’re used to the way things work. We’re used to a Jedi leading us through battle.”

“And she can’t do that?”

“Well, it’s not like she can cut through clankers like you or General Kenobi.”

Anakin was prepared for this, but it still didn’t change the awkwardness of the conversation. He knew how fierce of a Jedi she was. Rex didn’t. He was hoping this mission could change things. He knew as well as anyone else that a warrior of her size would wreak havoc against the Separatists if used properly. Plus, he knew how painfully boring it was to be stuck inside the temple all the time. He wanted this to work for her.

“Her strengths lie in other areas. She doesn’t need to cut through droids like me and Obi-Wan,” Anakin said, putting his hand on Rex’s shoulder. “Given the world she’s grown up in… the things she’s had to overcome… I’d say she’s the bravest out of all of us.”

Rex hummed and turned his gaze to the front of the ship. He never really grew tired of the swirling brilliant blue of hyperspace. He found himself wondering if it looked any different five inches off the ground.

“...I should go brief the men,” Rex said finally. 

“Yeah,” Anakin said, pursing his lips. “You probably should.”

[thedreadvampy]

ok look please understand that it is absolutely normal to want to live with your best friends, have casual sex with your friends, raise kids with your friends, and keep your friends as the most important people in your life.

whether it's a qpr or not, that's normal and it's healthy.

I think people are often encouraged to think that the historical, traditional expectation is to put your partner before your friends but that isn't...really true? men have very rarely been expected to have a stronger social connection with their partners than their friends, and the only reason women have been expected to centre romantic relationships is because they've historically been socially and financially dependent on making and maintaining a strong relationship.

that isn't to say that your partner shouldn't be as important as your friends. after all, at least in my social setting, relationships aren't a primarily financial and political arrangement - hopefully you are with your partner because they're a good friend to you as well as a partner.

like it's cheesy to say but Sam and Kofi are some of my best friends and that's a big part of our relationship. but like. they aren't the only friends I'm that close to. I'm differently close to, say, my friends Alex and Jake (who I think are probably the most important people in my life), or my friend Joe (who I've lived with in a mutually supportive way for 5 years), or my friend Courtney (who I hook up with regularly and love dearly) or my friend Lesedi (who I have very seriously considered co-parenting a child with) but I'm not less close to them.

and this isn't a Weird Me Thing either. like:

probably about half the people I know have housemates who they've lived with, moved house with multiple times, and who are as intimately involved with their lives as their romantic partners, often more

where I grew up and most places I've been, most people have "aunties" - your mum's best friends who stepped in to help with the kids and who are part of the family. I myself traveled down half the country regularly to help support a friend who was a lone parent while his son was little, from looking after a baby for days at a time to helping him look for daycares and booking doctors appointments, and that's super normal - when I and most of my friends were kids we were all used to spending up to 1/3 of our week at a parent's best friend's house. that's literally a big chunk of the role godparents play in many people's lives too. it takes a village to raise a child and formally or informally most cultures expect that the parents' close friends will chip in and love and care for the child.

Most adults I know have at least one friend who they carve out at least a few hours a week to spend time with - go to the cinema, go for a coffee, cook dinner, catch up and vent and offer emotional support.

Friends with benefits? totally a really thing whatever people tell you, it doesn't have to be emotionally romantic and often actively feels weird to be

It's normal to grieve when a friendship ends and it often affects people as deeply or more deeply than a relationship ending

like, this isn't to say that a lot of media messaging posits this sort of stuff as immature/less important (and for men, the dreaded A Bit Gay) but that messaging actively runs counter to how most people live their lives in the real world, and you know. in a film when someone finds a partner they become the Most Important Thing In Their Lives. in real life most of your friends will agree you're being kind of a jerk if you consistently blow them off in favour of your partner at any age.

and I think the thing that concerns me is the degree to which the idea that you're expected as an adult to choose between romance and maintaining close, meaningful friendships is uncritically absorbed and reflected in how a lot of otherwise very thoughtful people talk about relationships, romance, sex and friendships.

like if your expectation is that having intimate friendships can only happen if you don't have important/lasting romantic/sexual relationships, or that having a relationship means you can't have or want friendships deeper than casual hangouts and occasional Emotion Chats...like, that will harm you.

Not everyone wants or needs romantic/sexual relationships, true, but everyone, regardless of whether they also want that, needs supportive and meaningful and lasting friendships as part of a fully actualised social life. As I say, those needs might be met by some of the same people (I've been in a relationship with Sam for 9 years, but we've been friends since I was 14 and while I can imagine a life where we're not dating or having sex, I genuinely can't bear to imagine a life without his friendship) but emotionally close friendships are still a genuine need.

(plus honestly if the only place you can get emotional closeness is a sexual/romantic partner, that's a very vulnerable place to be in. both for you and for them. It's not good to only have one person you have a serious, close, mutually supportive emotional relationship with - ime most people do best with like 4 or 5 close friends minimum (one or more of whom may or may not be their sexual/romantic/queerplatonic partner)

and this is where I'm dipping a toe into the Spicy (shitty) Discourse, because I don't at a object to the idea of queerplatonic relationships (I don't necessarily understand them, but honestly I haven't understood anything since 1999) it worries me how many people defend the idea of qpps by saying WOULD YOU DO X WITH A FRIEND????

and I understand the defensive impact bc tbh when people say "explain the difference between a queerplatonic partner and a friend" they are very rarely asking in good faith - they've already decided that aro/ace people Just Want To Be Special and that qpps are a Stupid Tumblr Queer Concept.

and it's a shitty question anyway imo because like. I know there's a difference between friends-with-benefits and Girlfriends on an emotional level, or between a friend and a non-sexual romantic relationship. I know there's a difference and most of these people would agree but if you asked me to draw a hard line to define This is Not Romantic and This is Romantic I'd be stumped. it's an emotional reality not a behavioural one so it's not a clearcut concept and it may be different for everyone

B u t

When people respond to this (shitty, bad-faith) question by insisting "friends don't kiss! friends don't live together! friends don't co-raise kids!" they are just flatly Wrong. And it's a really weak argument because of that, because people will just say 'yeah we literally do, a qpp is a normal friendship, qed' and that's. Uh. Based on what's been said that's kind of a reasonable conclusion? because those things are all normal friendship things for a lot of adults.

there are many possible arguments for the term queerplatonic. it's about describing an emotional connection that isn't quite romantic. it's a way of clarifying that your intention is to commit to spending your life with someone. it's a way to define the expectations you have of your relationship. but ultimately it's not your job to justify this to anyone. many people (me included) might not understand exactly what a qpp means to you, but that doesn't mean we have any right to go 'that's meaningless' or talk it down if it isn't hurting anyone

but like. these specific types of defences of qpps (the "qpps are Important Vital Relationships and friends are just People You Don't Mind Spending Time With" attitude) are harmful, both to people not in qpps and to people in qpps

Exceptionalising the idea of having friends you love like family, who are the most important people in your life, who you might choose to live with or share your life with or be the person you'd trust with your children/your wellbeing/your health? That's dangerous!

and it takes us no closer to adequately valuing close friendships to say "close friendships are what QPPs are and they're a direct replacement for romantic/sexual partnerships". we can have both, and we should feel able have both. not necessarily both a qpp and a relationship, but both a life partner (sexual/romantic/queerplatonic) and other friends who are intimate parts of our lives and families. That's such a profoundly vital part of being queer particularly but also just of being, and it stresses me that people think that's a Special Kind of Relationship not a normal close friendship.

[wenellyb]

saw some discourse on your blog over Anthony Mackie's interview and I kinda feel like people are ganging up on you, which is not cool. I don't know much about the issue to comment but some people really need to learn to chill. Anyways. Hugsies! 💕

Hi Anon!!!!

Thank you so much for sending me this, I'll gladly accept the hugs but don't worry, they're not "ganging up on me" or anything.

I'm the one who commented on the OP's post and then their mutuals joined, which is totally normal and an everyday occurence on Tumblr. I've been on Tumblr long enough to be able to handle a disagreement with some blogs. It's more than fine.

And I'm the one who commented first, so no ganging up happening here 😉, however I really appreciate this ask, it's really nice of you.

Regarding the Anthony Mackie interview discourse. Our main disagreement with the other blog comes from the fact that I disagree when they said Anthony was talking about Sam and Bucky's relationship in that interview.

If you have missed the whole story, consider yourself lucky because it was an awful period, where the fandom was super duper racist for free and disgusting altogether, and then they made it sound like they cared about homophobia when in fact they didn't and just cared about shipping...disgusting times.

Recap under the cut: It all started with an interview.

Here's the link to the interview.

Here's the link to the podcast.

Here's the link to an audio of the portion of that interview where Anthony talked about Sambucky and then about male friendships.

Here's the link to the transcript of that portion of the interview.

And here's a Tumblr post that make a great job at doing a recap of the whole situation.

To top it all, I learned that that journalist has a history of editing interviews to paint Black actors under a bad lighting, to get more clicks I suppose. He did it with Ray Fisher, and John Boyega too. Link to Twitter thread here.

Now my take:

When I first read the interview, I thought Anthony was talking about Sam and Bucky's relationship, and even then I said that people shouldn't be criticizing Anthony for not " shipping" Sambucky, because he's an actor and interprets his characters the way they are written in the script, if some people have a problem with another portion of his interview ok, but the part about Sam and Bucky wasn't up to him, because he isn't the writer, and considering Sam and Bucky as friends doesn't make him homophobic like some people tried to make it sound.

So that was my first thought, but when I listened to the audio, I understood that the journalist who wrote the article had mixed up several parts of Anthony's answer to make it look like he was talking about Sam and Bucky's relationship, when he was answering another question. But the journalist cut that part.

To me, Anthony wasn't talking about Sam and Bucky, based on the audio, his only reaction to the question about Sam and Bucky was laughing, and saying he didn't follow fandom stuff. The rest of what he said was about another question asked by the journalist.

The other OP thinks that Anthony was talking about Sam and Bucky's relationship in that interview, and that is where the main disagreement lays. And why I commented on their post to say it.

I have no problem with people headcanoning Sam as straight like the OP does, however, I have a problem when people try to make is sound that Anthony or Malcom said MCU Sam Wilson was straight because they ...didn't?

That's it, I'm bad at summarizing stuff, but at least I tried!

[versegm]

Holy Grail War where Guda is their summoner's weird back-alley encounter one night, then ghosts them for two days straight without an explanation and then seamlessly sets themselves up in the next-door apartment. They never explain what a holy grail is, and they're human-passing if they take sufficient precautions, and five months in it's just them and one enemy servant left. Guda goes drinking with them every Tuesday.

The first time you meet your new neighbor, you almost have a heart attack.

“Ma’am! Do you need any help with that?”

Face mask, sunglasses, leather gloves. They stand hover above you, and it dawns on you that you’re about to get mugged.

“No, no, it’s fine.” You steel your spine and straighten your back- and immediately wince. Old age has not been kind to you. “I’m fine. Really.”

The youth chuckles- they sound genuinely amused. Since you can barely see their face at all, you can’t read any of their emotions. It’s unnerving. “Don’t be silly, ma’am.” They take hold of the heaviest of your grocery bags. “Where do you live? I’ll walk you there.”

And you can’t really do anything but agree, can you? Ah, it has been a good life, at least. You suppose there are worse ways to go than...

... actually guided home by a yakuza? Who bids you goodbye and just leaves?

... Wait, they were being honest with the offer to help?

*

The youth, you learn quickly (for there is no better intel than old lady gossip) goes by Ritsuka Fujimaru, is probably not part of any yakuza group, and works part-time at the okonomiyaki place down the street.

Their apartment is also two rooms away from yours, which is why you keep running into them.

“Ma’am!” They wave at you excitedly. Their face is still covered. Apparently, they’re just that allergic to showing any important patch of skin. “You shouldn’t stay around these parts, ma’am. Haven’t you heard? A pipeline exploded yesterday.”

Huh, really? There has been a lot of these kind of accidents lately. You didn’t know another one exploded in the area.

This city really needs to get it together. You remember another serie of accidents like this when you were a kid. You’d think in sixty years infrastructure would get better.

“Ma’am! Ah, it’s good to see you sticking to safe paths.”

“Ma’am! Ah, you really ought to check the news! The next street is closed up! It shouldn’t last long, but better safe than sorry, right?”

“Ma’am! Let’s walk home together! I just finished my shift. Are you coming back from the market?”

“Ma’am! This looks heavy, do you need help? Oh, this is new! How do you cook that?”

*

One day, you go out, and you don’t see them. You don’t bat an eye.

The next day, they’re still not here. It’s not the first time that happens.

The next day, still no Fujimaru. Now this is a little weird.

The next day, they’re still absent. You’re getting worried.

“They’re on sick leave.” The okonomiyaki place tells you. “They should be back by tomorrow.”

Sick?

You frown. They’re a weird folk, but you’ve grown to like the youngster. Do they even know how to take care of themself? You remember when you were just getting started into adulthood and boy that wasn’t pretty.

So, you walk determinedly to the youth’s apartment, and knock.

At first there is silence. Then a ruffled sound. Then, a voice. “One moment!”

So you wait.

... quite some time.

After what seems like an eternity, but most likely was only a minute, the door opens up. “Hi ma’am! What brings you here?” And you can’t help but flinch.

They look the same as usual. Sunglasses, face mask, and gloves. The same, no sicker, no healthier.

Three scars like slashes come across their right eye.

They have a sheepish laugh. “Ah, sorry. I didn’t have time to put on my make-up.”

Make-up? To cover the scars?

You look them over. Sunglasses, face mask, gloves. At first you’d assumed they were some kind of delinquent. At first you’d assumed they didn’t want to be recognized.

Ah, sorry. I didn’t have time to put on my make-up.

Ah.

You think you understand now.

“... Would you like to have dinner with me?” Originally, you wanted to bring them some chicken soup and be done with it, but what little of their apartment you can see behind them seems... unfit to host people. You wonder how they manage to live in it. It’s just... so full. Toys and tools and papers as if they could barely focus on one task at once. Where did they even fit their bed?

“Ah.” They click their tongue. “That’s very nice, ma’am, but I don’t think-”

“I’ll look the other way while you eat.” You say. “If you really don’t want me to see your face.”

They stay silent. For a few seconds, you can’t even hear them breathe.

“...Okay.”

*

It starts with chicken soup on a sick day. Then it turns into a small chat every two week. Then a meal every week. 

After two months, you’ve gotten into the habit of hosting Fujimaru over twice a week.

They’re comfortable enough to remove their sunglasses when you’re the only one here, now. One of their eye is blank. The other one rarely ever focuses on you when you speak to them.

Weirdly enough, their eye is about the least interesting thing about Fujimaru.

"And there! That’s how you make mocassins.” They’re beaming. You can’t see their mouth, but you’re sure they’re smiling. “Friend of mine taught me how to make these.”

“You seem to have a lot of odd friends.” 

“Oh, definitely. But that’s just how life is, y’know?”

Somehow, you get the feeling that their life isn’t exactly what you’d call “average.”

*

It takes another month for them to take off the face mask.

... Huh.

“Hyperdontia.” That’s the only explanation they give you. You don’t press them. Not about their teeth, not about their eye, not about their soot-like skin under their gloves. From what you’ve seen, it’s a miracle that Fujimaru ended up somewhat functional despite whatever stacked that many scars on them.

“Say, ma’am,” they ask between two bites of food, “if you could have any wish fulfilled, what would you want?”

“A wish?” You raise an eyebrow. “I’m a little old to believe in genies, don’t you think?”

“Humor me.” They set their chin on their palm. “Any wish at all. What would you wish for?”

Any wish...

A few months back, you’d probably have answered ‘a friend,’ or something cheesy like that. Life can be... lonely, when one is as old as you, with no kid or nephew to speak of.

But now, well...

“... no, I can’t think of anything. I’m good.”

They blink. Evidently, they were not expecting that answer.

“... You’re a good person, you know that?”

Their teeth are long and sharp. Somehow, it doesn’t stop their smile from being incredibly sweet.

*

Fujimaru has a friend.

Well, multiple, obviously. Fujimaru looks kind of scary at first, but give them the occasion to chat you up, and they will not let you leave unfriended. But what you mean by that is that Fujimaru has a friend.

“I saw Caster the other day!” They always look giddy talking about Caster. You’re hesitant to call it puppy love, but evidently, this person means a lot to them. 

Here’s what you know about Caster:

- They act like an old man

- They look young enough that Fujimaru has to be the one to buy alcohol when they hang out

- They’ve got Opinion on writing

“So, you write too, Fujimaru?” You ask, after the third time they retell you about some writing discourse or another.

“Mh? Oh, yeah. sometimes.” They rub the back of their neck. “Well, not really. There’s just this one thing I’ve been writing over and over again, so.”

(They do that a lot. Repetitive things, you mean. Sometimes, they repeat something they’ve just told you. Sometimes, they do the same action twice, thrice in a row, as if they’d forgotten they’d already done it.)

(The scars on their face looks deep. You think they might have some mild brain damage, but again, this isn’t your place to ask.)

“What is it about?” You ask, because you’re genuinely interested.

They look down, and seem suddenly very interested in scratching the underneath of their nails.

“... It’s a little silly.” They finally say. “I had this friend, you see.”

You nod. Do go on. For all the time you’ve spent with Fujimaru, you know surprisingly little about their past.

“He was great. Incredible! He knew so much. And he was kind! And resourceful. He could always get someone out of a bind even when himself had next to nothing to work with. I owe him a lot.”

“He sounds pretty great.”

They nod excitedly. “That’s who I’m writing about. My friend.” They pause, for a second, as if unsure if they should continue. When they speak again, their voice is a little lower, as if telling a secret.

“There is power in stories, you know? If it’s written down, then it’s real. In a way. Not real real. But real in a way that matters. Once a story is weaved, you can’t unmake it. Even if no one knows of it. Even if it gets burned down afterwards. There is power in stories.”

It’s a good thing that they don’t ask you if you’ve understood, because you certainly hadn’t. But they go on.

“That’s what I’m writing about. My friend. I’m writing a story about him. Some meaningless slice of life thing. A regular day at work. Getting coffee in the morning. Saying hi to his daughter. Feeling the wind on his face. That’s what I’m writing. Normal life stuff.”

They tilt their head back, look at your roof.

“... It’s the least I can give to him. It’s the only thing I can give to him. A story in which he lives.”

*

It’s been six months since you’ve met Fujimaru, when they ask you with the utmost seriousness: “Do you believe in lucky charms?”

“As much as the next person.” You shrug. It’s very much a maybe maybe not to you. You don’t care all that much.

“Okay. That’s good.” Fujimaru smiles. It’s weird, how used you’ve become to these teeth. How comforting the sight of scars can become. “See, there’s this one lucky charm I wanted to give you. Something of a spell if you ever need me and I’m not here.”

? Well, why not. It wouldn’t be the strangest of Fujimaru’s quirks.

“Okay, listen up. Don’t repeat what I’m going to say. You can only say it one day where you really mean it, okay?” They lean towards you and cup their hands around your ear. Their breath is almost anormaly warm. “It goes something like this. By the power of my Command Spell, I ask of you...”

[cosmicretreat]

This Twitter exchange reported here sums a lot of it up for me (TW for the link, because there’s a lot of bs takes that are basically respectability politics and racism, plus whatever Judd Apatow’s stupid bullshit take from his fainting couch was supposed to be):

Danny Lore: I think when it comes to a lot of isms, a lot of you need to come to terms with the fact that rarely if ever has being kind and meek and using your words EVER gone any distance in solving them. MLK was non violent but it was people viewing the violence done upon him that moved the needle. And he was still murdered and hated. No ism has been erased by respectability.

Arune Singh: The myth of "appropriateness" has been sold hard. Bullies don't stop because you ask them nicely.

Danny Lore: They never have! And yet we continue to pretend that sitting in the pain while you and your loved ones keep getting bullied is the wave! The wild reactions to this have really made me less conflicted than i was originally tbh

Arune Singh: I've never understood humor that found laughs in the things that make us "different" from the North American "normal." Ive excuse a lot of humor about my health at my expense (for better or worse) but if you came for my wife? That's a whole other thing.

Danny Lore: Also making a joke ABOUT YOURSELF isn't comparable to making a joke about someone else on International tv ever

Arune Singh: 100%. Like you said, the reactions to this have made a me a lot less conflicted – especially given the limited discourse about the shiftiness of Rock's joke. And I guess, I gotta ask – why did he even need to comment on Jada's appearance? And why is the expectation that he gets to do it without consequence?