#WOW who knew ableism is bad even when you do it!!

[bunnieswithknives]

The moment you start throwing around a slur as a genuine insult you are no longer reclaiming it. Reclaiming a word involves referring to yourself with it in a positive manner, using it to spread community and trying to remove the feelings of shame around it. If you are using it as an insult you are not fucking reclaiming it, you are just using a slur.

[fierceawakening]

@ante--meridiem you’re making sense to me.

I often will use the term “shitty person” over “bad person” (“Wooooow, Mitch McConnell is a shitty person. I knew he was right wing but wow, he really did go above and beyond to not work with Obama and then fold to Trump.”) for the reason you give. I don’t know why it is, but “bad person” sounds more like it might mean “born evil,” where “shitty person” for some reason has more of a connotation that you could’ve been something else and you Just Kept Going.

I just feel like tabooing “bad person” can and sometimes does have the side effect of shaming traumatized people for expressing justified anger without caveats. (When, at least from my own experience, we’re *often* scrupulosity spiraling about whether or not they knew better, as one very common coping mechanism for us is to decide that our abusers must be correct that what they do IS really our fault. If we rely on them for housing and food, it’s a lot easier to think to ourselves “I must’ve set them off. I can do better next time and then they’ll feed me” than to acknowledge “They’re capricious. I might not get fed, just because that’s how they are.”)

So to me, we need at least to be forgiving of that phrasing, because someone may be just beginning to try out the idea that they didn’t deserve what happened at all. In my experience what helps someone in that particular circumstance is to be told by their support system “no, you don’t need to take that back. You’re not angry because you’re ungrateful or judgmental. You’re anger because that was, full stop no question about it, straight up trufax just wrong.”

Or they might even be me, who is used enough to the idea that I’m angry and it’s okay to fucking CALL MYSELF FIERCE AWAKENING, but who still falls into patterns of “I’m so judgy! I deserve to have bad things happen to me because I can’t stop judging other people!” and therefore really wishes people would choose a different hill to die on.

The other thing is… I don’t know if it’s right to say we Disagree on judging yourself. Like, yeah, thinking “I am a bad person” is destructive, and is usually repetition of something someone who traumatized you told you.

But there’s a different thing, where you look at yourself and ask “am I living in accordance with my values? When faced with hard decisions, do I choose the thing that reflects the character I want to cultivate, even if I’m scared?”

Which I think is broadly what you mean when you say “don’t think of yourself as a good person, as you might forget there are things you still need to fix.”

Like I’m pretty sure that if I told myself straight up I’m not a good person, my brain would take that to mean I should commit suicide, as that sounds weirdly unfixable.

But “do my choices reflect my aspirations? Do I have work to do?” Doesn’t do the same thing.

And that’s I think why I get so frustrated with tumblr’s way of talking sometimes. Like there seem to me to be a lot of people who say things like “I’m a narcissist; what were you expecting from me? You shouldn’t think I’ll give you that weird empathy thing. But if you reject me because I didn’t, that’s ableism.”

And I’m just “dude, you can’t have it both ways!

“If you’re telling me the way you act is fixed because of your neurotype, then I’m justified in telling you I and others need to keep our distance because your pattern of behavior is highly likely to stay the same.

“If you’re telling me I can’t assume because of your label that you act the way the diagnostic criteria say someone with the label acts, then you don’t get to tell me I’m being ableist and demanding the impossible when I ask you to show empathy through your actions.”

[nitewrighter]

Super curious – what’s that body language book you were reading?

Cues by Vanessa Van Edwards. She mostly works in a lot of corporate workshops so the body language focus is mostly in the context of professional environments, presentations, and networking, which like, I think is already a very specific context. Again, I do wish the book discussed ableism in how we interpret body language the same way it discussed sexism and racism, but I am grateful that a lot of her "If they're making this face, that means X" explorations basically come with the caveat of "Okay our research indicates that this signals discomfort, but 99% of the time you don't actually have the full context as to why this person would be making this face or doing X and also just one body cue doesn't actually immediately indicate this, so don't take this one facial expression to mean they're lying or mad at you, but these kind of signals do indicate you may want to pump the brakes and reconfigure your approach." But again, that whole, "you don't have the full context" factor I think could be explored more, especially in the context of ableism.

Like, for example, in the Nixon Kennedy debates, these were the first televised presidential debates, and people who listened to the debate on the radio thought Nixon had won, and people who watched the debate on television thought Kennedy had won! Basically even though Nixon knew his stuff at the time, the visual medium of television did impact his campaign. In the televised recording Kennedy was very handsome and confident and Nixon kind of looked like a shifty pile of shit--and there's a reason for this! Nixon banged his knee on a car door minutes before the debate and was in literal physical pain standing on that leg throughout the debate (apparently it was so bad he later had to be hospitalized for staph), and also he refused to wear makeup for the debate so he looked shinier under studio lighting, and he didn't know which cameras to look at during filming while Kennedy was just fixed on one camera the whole time, so he showed up sweatier and stubblier and more shifty-eyed than Kennedy and arguably less prepared.

So like, for me listening to this book, it was this moment of "Wow, so indicating any kind of physical discomfort can really fuck you over when you're trying to look competent for a job. What does this mean for people with chronic pain?" And again, additional caveat that like, as far as examples go, you don't get much more "specific to American culture" than a presidential debate--like, I'm willing to say USAmericans can be a very superficial, "Interpreting strength and confidence as competence" people. Like it's worth noting that a lot of our school history books include "he was tall :)" among the reasons as to why we picked Washington as our first President. But yeah it's an very interesting book. It's very 'your mileage may vary'--- a lot of the advice in there is, like I've said before, very basic common sense stuff my dad would often tell me right before job interviews, haha.

[hopeswriting]

1/2 "Scott must never ever expect anything from the people who follow him. Not even Stiles telling the truth" Why is Stiles obligated to share his own traumas – being brutally assaulted by a psychopath, killing Donovan in self defense (and being judged, gaslit and victim blamed by Scott for it), and being the victim of Theo's blackmail – with Scott but Scott is not obligated to tell Allison the truth about her mother's death, or to tell Kira the truth about her fox,

2/2 or to tell Derek that he's planning to violate him and use him as his own personal murder weapon against Gerard, or to tell Stiles, Lydia, Allison, Isaac and Derek that he was conspiring with Gerard behind their back? Claiming that Scott is entitled to use and lie to everyone around him whenever it benefits him but Stiles (the neurodivergent hero) is not entitled to choose not to share his own traumas with Scott if he doesn't want to is a blatant case of bias, ableism and double standards

okay, so, wow, this escalated quickly and went in all the different directions we weren't even talking about?

to stay on the subject at hands, i don't get why you came to me with this when it's @princeescaluswords (i’m tagging you because i figure you’d like to know what other people think of your opinion) who kindly shared his insight with me. tho obviously if i reblogged it it's that i agree with him, which i do, as a matter of fact.

how can't stiles owe the truth to scott? they're friends? they're best friends? now it's unfortunate that that truth just so happens to be a traumatic event he went through, but it's not like i expected him to go into the most minute painful details of it right there and then when he was still obviously raw from all of it. like you said he is entitled to choose how much of his trauma he wants or doesn't want to share with scott, but i'll argue there was a need there to tell him the gist of it at the very least. and a simple "donovan tried to kill me, and i had to kill him first to save my life" would have sufficed.

and this "(and being judged, gaslit and victim blamed by Scott for it)"? scott may have judged him because he had all the wrong facts, but gaslit and victim blamed, are you serious?? that's just really not what happened.

and please don't put words in my mouth, when did i ever said or even implied that "Scott is entitled to use and lie to everyone around him whenever it benefits him"? i didn't, and i don't think he is, or that anyone is for that matter.

as for the rest i won't even touch it because, frankly? i wanted to assume your first ask was in good faith and answer it as such, but clearly you're not here so we can have a conversation about our different opinions, but to make me admit/realize i'm wrong for liking scott and i'm wrong to think he was wronged in the show and side with him because of that, and i'm not here for that.

once again, let's just agree to disagree and curate our own dash to suit our needs. my teen wolf posts talk about scott in a positive way so i put them in the scott mccall tag. you're free to block that tag or block my blog entirely if you take issues with said posts or if they upset you. either way i'm not interested to continue this conversation any further, and will not answer to your asks should you send me more.

except that stiles never agreed with scott's cruel and judgemental "i knew, sooner or later one of us was going to get a little too much blood on our hands, but I thought it would be malia" comment. that's just your own fanon interpretation. stiles didn't even interrupted scott's monologue. scott was trying to make stiles' and malia's traumas all about him; but stiles simply ignored it and reminded scott that there were more important things than scott's tantrums and egocentrism, aka saving kira

as for that isaac & scott scene, yeah, it was just bad, period. it was supposed to show the darkness in scott’s heart after their pseudo death / actually, both posey and the production made it abundantly clear that scott's perfectly in control when he repeatedly assaulted isaac and that he abused isaac due to his own jealousy and possessiveness, and not because "the nemeton made him do it", which is just a cheap fanon excuse. and scott never showed an ounce of remorse or apologised for it either

i'm not sure this^ is from the same anon, or from only one different anon, but it’s in response to the same ask, so let me answer this too while i'm at it.

saying that stiles didn't agree with scott's comment is being of such of bad faith, i just had to gif that moment despite my amateurish skills.

so for context, scott indeed says "I knew, sooner or later, one of us was going to get a little too much blood on our hands. I half thought it was gonna be Malia." and this is stiles supposedly denied reaction:

[GIFS DESCRIPTION: Two gifs of Stiles Stilinski, from the TV show Teen Wolf.

1: He raises his eyebrows, tilting his head upwards in an obvious manner.

2: He says,” Well, she definitely seems like she’s working on it.”, looking resigned, worried, and frustrated. /END GIFS DESCRIPTION]

but this isn’t stiles agreeing with scott? this is only my “fanon interpretation”? not only you’re insulting my intelligence but also yours. so he may not have spelt it out explicitly, but this isn’t exactly an ambiguous reaction either. what he’s saying here at the very least is “fair enough”, which does imply agreement to some extent, like it or not.

you know what is fanon interpretation? this: “ scott was trying to make stiles' and malia's traumas all  about him”.

i mean, did you even listen to what scott was saying? he was trying to take responsibility for their traumas, recognizing them for the painful and unfair experience it was. he was saying “i wish it had happened to me instead, because it should have happened to me, and i’m sorry it didn’t.” he was apologizing for their traumas because he believes he played a part in it. and he spells that out pretty explicitly, like come on, you can recognize at least that much.

as for that scott & isaac scene, i said all i needed to say on it. i’ll just add that independently of what posey and the production said after the fact, i can understand the purpose of a scene all by myself. and of course scott was acting on his jealousy. the darkness from the nemeton didn’t just come from nowhere, it just amplified the darkness that was already there, and made them act on it in a way they wouldn’t have done before.

but anyway, once more, for anyone seeing this and taking issues with my posts, i’m not interested to continue this discussion any longer. i do like scott mccall and do believe he was wronged by the show and other characters at times, and i’m not about to bend over backwards writing you guys an essay on why i think that.

that said, you’re completely free to disagree with that, however strongly, obviously. but if you can’t stand to see opinions different from yours, again, feel free to block my correctly tagged posts, or my blog entirely.

which is not to say i’m not open to exchange with people with a different opinion than mine, because i’m very open to that actually. but only if it’s in good faith. otherwise don’t expect me to answer you, because i’m here to have a good time and a good time only.

[mammoneymelon]

How the brothers would react to finding out that MC is autistic

before anyone says anything, i’m autistic and just really want some representation

TW for ableism! the boys are doing their best but no NT immediately knows everything about autism

it’s a bit random, but i headcanon that lucifer has misophonia, so it’s only a matter of time before a noisy/verbal stim starts to drive him up a wall

“what in the devildom are you doing?” he’d ask, eyebrows scrunched in frustration

you have no idea what he’s talking about; after all, you’ve just been sitting on your DDD playing some rhythm game

“what do you mean?”

“you’ve been making that noise for hours; cut it out before i have to go find the packing tape.”

you know him well enough to know he isn’t joking, so you nod and do your best to stop, ignoring the feeling of dread beginning to well up in your chest

you go back to your game, and soon enough, you’re back to ‘making that noise’

you see lucifer stand up, bringing your action to your attention.

“oh, sorry! i didn’t realize i was doing it again, sorry!”

“oh?” he asked, looking down at you. 

“it’s stimming. autistic people do it a lot more than others, and sometimes we don’t even notice it.” there’s a moment of silence but you realize you just told him something you hadn’t even told your human friends

“ah, yes, i do remember reading about that in your file. i didn’t want to say anything so as not to offend you.”

you shake your head. “dude! that’s personal business! i don’t like telling people.”

lucifer’s gaze seems to soften. “don’t fret, MC. i won’t tell a soul.”

and he doesn’t.

he also totally buys you quiet stim toys

it’s not long before mammon realizes you are terrible at reading the room

you have a terrible habit of cracking a joke at the worst time or saying the first thing that comes to your mind, even if it was at the expense of others

at first, mammon, mammon thought you were really brave. now, however, he sees that you just have no idea what you’re doing

currently, your knack for trouble had landed you in detention, something you’d gotten fairly used to in the human world. mammon was sitting next to you - he was paying for trying to defend you

“lucifer’s going to kill us. again.”

“and whose fault is that?”

“sorry,” you mumble. “it’s not like i was trying to get us here.”

“really? because it’s startin’ to seem like you are. not that i blame ya, if i were you i’d do anything to spend more time with the great mammon.” he gives you a smile, and you really hope that means he isn’t mad

“i really don’t like upsetting people, i just don’t really get tone? i didn’t even realize the teacher was mad until you stepped in. “

“dude, she was on the verge of killing ya! what do ya mean you “didn’t even realize”?

you pinch the bridge of your nose in frustration. “it’s part of a disorder i have. autism. i just don’t get some stuff that comes naturally to other people.”

“ohhh.” mammon slaps his head, feeling like an idiot. “sorry,” he murmurs, and you barely hear it

mammon, being, well, mammon, will probably forget.

it’s not that he doesn’t care! it’s just not something that comes up in conversation.

of course, when the two of you do talk about it, he picks up on the symptoms pretty quickly. he’s a pretty smart guy, and he’ll do anything and everything for his human

the two of you are working on a co-op dungeon while you talk about your current special interest

“wow, MC, you know a lot about this!”

“thanks,” you respond, and it hits you - you’ve been infodumping almost this whole time

“haha, yeah, blame it on the autism brain,” you joke absentmindedly, not really caring if he knew. you two were good friends, why would being neurodivergent make a difference?

levi, on the other hand, does a double take. being the gamer he is, he’d definitely heard the word used as an insult, but he’d never thought about anyone actually having autism - much less his best friend

“MC, you have autism?” he turns to you looking genuinely confused, his controller sitting, forgotten, in his lap

“um, yeah? it’s not really a big deal,” you say, shrugging

“yeah it is! i mean i knew you were pretty weird, since you hang out with me-” he stops mid-sentence, realizing his mistake. “NOT IN A BAD WAY, OF COURSE! ah sorry, i said something stupid, like always.”

you shake your head with a small smile. you can tell he’s trying. “trust me, i’ve heard much worse. you’re fine, levi.”

he glances up at you, face red from embarrassment, and your smile widens. “i mean, i don’t think like ‘normal’ people anyway, so yeah, i kinda am weird.”

once you leave his room, he’s at his pc, researching more vigorously that he’s ever done for a class

the more he learns, the more annoyed he gets at the complete misunderstanding of the disorder

ultimately, he just wants to make sure you feel supported and understood

you’re sitting in the library, doing your homework while satan looks over your essay, checking for errors

“oi, MC”

“what’s up?” you respond, still focused on your work

“are you scared of me?”

this prompts you to look up, focusing your eyes on his hands

“i was when i first came here, and i definitely would be scared if i really pissed you off, but no, i’m not scared of you. why do you ask?”

“you never look me in the eyes. or my brothers, actually.”

oh. you’d been hoping no one had noticed. “oh, i just don’t like eye contact. it makes me uncomfortable.” you return your eyes to your paper, hoping that was enough.

“how so?” 

so it wasn’t enough.

“i’m autistic, genius. i figured it was obvious by now.”

“oh. that makes sense.” that’s all he says, so you try to return your focus to your homework.

satan is probably the most comfortable talking to you about it. he’ll ask you questions about your personal experiences and make an effort to understand you better

one day you look over his shoulder to find him reading an article on masking on his DDD

he cares deeply for you, even if it’s hard for him to say so

asmo has wrangled you into yet another shopping trip

“MC, look at this!! you have to try it on!”

one look at the article of clothing and your face is already scrunching up

“absolutely not.”

“awe, why not?” he gives you the biggest puppy eyes and you sigh. he knows your weaknesses.

“the material. i hate it.”

“but it would look so good on you~”

clearly, he’s not going to give up unless you explain yourself to him

“sure, for a couple seconds, until i have a complete meltdown,” you remark. “i’m autistic, so some textures just make me feel really bad.”

his mouth makes an ‘o’ shape, and then he goes back to looking confused. “i hadn’t even thought about that as a possibility! you should’ve said something earlier!”

he feels really bad about all the times he’s touched you without warning. he thought your shock was cute (and he still does), but he knows that autistic people sometimes dislike touch - he’s definitely had at least a couple autistic ‘partners’ in the past

he’s quite the observant demon, quickly picking up on sensations you d and don’t like. if you’re bothered by smells, he does his best to lay off on the perfume - granted, it’s a necessary part of his routine that he absolutely cannot give up completely. he lets you play with the dimmer in his room so you can find the amount of light that works best.

occasionally, he’ll have to tell you that he’s trying his absolute best to flirt and you are giving him nothing. you’re just like “oh shit i didn’t realize”

asmo’s just a sweetheart who wants you to be comfortable

beel unfortunately has to learn about your autism because of a situation out of your control

you’re in the gym, keeping him company while he works out

you’re searching his bag and you realize you don’t have your headphones

oh fuck.

you always bring your headphones to the gym; the sounds of televisions, music, people talking, weights clinking, treadmills rumbling... it’s too much

not to mention the stench of sweat and the florescent lights - truly an autistic person’s nightmare

you squeeze you eyes shut, but that only makes the noise worse. you’re surrounded by noise and you can’t stop it. it occurs to you that you’re no longer breathing properly but it’s just too loud and you’re so small

“MC?” beel’s voice is soft and filled with obvious concern. you open your eyes, seeing him kneeling in front of you. your eyes sting, and you realize you’re tearing up. “MC, are you alright?” 

all you can do is shake your head

“do you want to go home?” you nod, biting your lip as he stands up, making you feel even smaller.

he quickly packs his things into his bag and offers you a hand, helping you get up

he quickly escorts you outside, where you practically gulp for air. 

he waits patiently with you while you slowly ground yourself. 

“okay, let’s go home.” you explain sensory overload as you walk, then tell him about your autism

beel, like asmo, is very observant and he learns surprisingly fast. 

he’s also very protective of you. if someone triggers you, he won’t hesitate to tell them off before doing a grounding exercise with you

he’s basically you’re giant therapy demon and you love him for it

it’s becoming way too much. you’ve been masking heavily for months, monitoring your every move while doing your absolute best to thrive in a (literally) completely different universe than what you’re used to

you’re laying facedown on the couch, practically unable to move. you want to go to your room, but your body won’t let you

“mc?” you hear belphegor’s voice. “are you trying to imitate me?” he teases

you simply groan in response, not wanting to bother

for a moment he goes silent. then, you feel a hand on your shoulder

you jolt up, swiping his hand away as you let out a small shout. belphie’s eyes are widened in surprise

“don’t touch me! ...please,” you add as an afterthought, feeling bad for scaring him

he sits with you on the couch, taking care to leave space between the two of you. “what’s wrong?” you don’t respond. “mc?”

“burnout. too much. feel bad.”

belphie has absolutely no clue what that means, but he figures he knows something that might help.

“want to take a nap with me?”

you have to think about it before responding with a “sure” and slowly crawling into his arms (if that’s something you’re okay with)

it’s night when the two of you wake up. you still feel awful, but you can at least cope better.

once belphie’s more awake, he asks you what the hell happened

“two words: autistic shutdown”

“that doesn’t explain anything” - belphie really doesn’t know anything about humans

you do your best to explain - you were born with a brain that works a bit differently than most humans. some of the symptoms are an aversion to change and ‘odd’ behavior that’s difficult to hide. when you get too stressed, you just kinda ‘shut down’

he takes a bit to really understand, but once he does, he does his best to support you.

he falls asleep to your infodumping and you find it endearing

he gets good at recognizing when you’re starting to shut down and he always convinces you to take a break via a cuddly nap

[ashintheairlikesnow]

(@whimpers-and-whumpers) concept: Chris in college. He has to do a certain number of gen ed credits to get his degree. He ends up in a mythology class. Chris has a breakdown when the class discussion turns to Baldur, Norse god of light and purity.

CW: Referenced past pet whump, traumatic memories, vaaaaague suggestions about past noncon, past whump of a minor, brief internalized ableism, warning for past Oliver being a fucking creep

“Well, this one just has a stupid name,” Ben says, squinting at his mythology textbook, tapping at a page. 

“What, what is it?” Chris and Ben are ‘studying’ together, which today mostly means Ben is studying and Chris is thinking about Laken’s arms when they wear a tank top. 

Ben is on is stomach on his bed, book open in front of him, while Chris lays on his back on the surprisingly plush shaggy rug that Ben bought at Target three weeks ago. Chris could sleep on this thing if he wanted, it’s so comfortable. Not that Chris can’t sleep pretty much anywhere. 

Chris closes his eyes, thinking about Laken’s smile, with their slightly crooked incisor tooth on the one side, when Ben says, “Baldur.”

Chris’s eyes open back up.

Baldur, darlin’. His Sir is calling him, hand on his head, waking him from his doze hidden under his desk, curled into a ball in the safe, dark space. Baldur, wake up, sweetheart, were you dreaming again?

“Why would you name a god Bald-er? Like, celebrate not having hair, I guess. What a stupid name.”

Nicky’s voice, wrinkling his nose, saying I’m not going to call you that when he heard. 

“That’s not, um, not what it, it, it means,” Chris says. Ben doesn’t use the overhead light when Chris is in his room - it buzzes in a way that gets under Chris’s skin. Instead, he uses warm yellowy lamps, and opens the curtains over the window to let outside light in. 

“Oh, you know this?” Ben looks up, and Chris’s face is carefully schooled emptiness, as much as it can be. Ben doesn’t know what to look for, so he doesn’t see it, and that’s what matters.

“Yep,” Chris says, shifting uneasily. Laying on his back suddenly feels wrong and also entirely right, exactly how he’s meant to be. He catches himself and pushes up to seated, looking out Ben’s window, focusing on the blue sky, slivers of white clouds, the gentle rattle of wind against the window when it gusts.

He reminds himself that he can go out there whenever he wants.

“Well... tell me something about him that’s more interesting than this stupid paragraph.” Ben taps the page again.

Sir, can, can, can you-... can you, can-

Words, Baldur. Do you need to practice with the metronome again?

No! No... no thank you... Sir. I, I can... can you... tell me about... the mistletoe, again?

Much better. Of course I can, darlin’. Come kneel here next to me.

“Baldur is, um, is, is... Old Norse it means, um, ‘brave’.” Chris sighs, fiddling with the seam of his pants, shifting his hands up to rub at a rough spot on his knee, then up to the feather necklace he’s always wearing, rubbing at the textured, carved plastic carefully. “Or, you know, in, um, in... sometimes they, they think, it’s the same as, as... same root as Belobog-”

“The same what as what now?” 

“Um, Belobog is, um, is, is, is... is is is, is a, a day... a god of day. Slavic. Um. But, but so, so there’s this idea that maybe Baldur meant, um, Baltas, or, um, an older word like it, because Baldur was, was... beautiful.”

“Beautiful?” Ben watches him with interest, but Chris doesn’t look at him. His Sir’s voice is in his ear, a hand tipping up his chin. Somewhere his Sir is... is still there, not in the big mansion with the hallway anymore, but... he’s somewhere. And Chris can feel him.

“Yeah,” Chris says, almost breathes. “Baldur was, was, was, was... was the most beautiful god.” He feels every line of his face, that his Sir once traced with his fingertips. He’s pretty. He knows he’s pretty. Too beautiful to be for anything else, sweetheart.

“Wow. So, what else do you know about him?”

It starts like this, darlin’. Baldur had a dream...

“Baldur... had a dream,” Chris says, and his voice shifts, slows down. He goes still where he sits on the rug, staring outside at the sky through Ben’s window. He sits perfectly still, breathing in a slow, even in-and-out, as if guided by the ticking of the metronome all over again. “He dreamed... about dying. And his mother did, too. His mother... dreamed his, his death. Just, just like he did.”

Ben’s face is serious and thoughtful, watching as Chris’s thumb stops rubbing at the feather necklace, and it drops back to thump against his chest.

“He was... sad, because the gods... the, the, the gods-... sorry, wrong, um, bad words, I just-... the gods...”

The gods dream in prophecy, Baldur, pretty thing. Never forget. Gods dream futures.

Yes, yes, yes, Sir.

And I dreamed your future, so what does that make me, sweetheart?

Did Sir ever dream this?

“The gods dream in prophecy,” Chris says, echoing his Sir’s voice in his head. “Frigg was, was, was scared.”

“Wait, that’s-” Ben turned pages in his notebook. “You mean Freya?”

“Frigga, Frija, Frigg,” Chris mumbles. The sky outside the window seems so far away, now.

“She, um, she went around and asked... asked, um, everything on Earth to, to... to promise they would never, never hurt Baldur. And... everything did, except... mistletoe.”

“Mistletoe? Like, the shit you kiss under at New Year’s?”

“Right. Everything but, but mistletoe.” He pulls his knees tight to his chest and sits like that, feeling Sir’s hand drift over the back of his neck, two fingers crook underneath soft leather of a collar Chris no longer wears. “It was... small, and a soft, soft thing, unimportant. When... when Loki-”

“Oh, I know who he is,” Ben says confidently, smiling now - but there’s a hint of something like worry in his eyes as he takes in Chris sitting perfectly still, like he’s carved from stone. 

“When, when Loki heard... he had a, a, a spear made of mistletoe. Loki didn’t, didn’t want to get in trouble for murder, so, um... so, so, so so so he gave the spear to, to, to Baldur’s brother, who was blind. Everyone threw things, at, at Baldur, and it bounced off, and Baldur’s smile was... was like the sun. Everyone loved him.”

Who could ever love you, pretty pet, but me?

“Baldur’s brother threw the, the spear. And killed him.”

Ben blinks, shifts forward. “He did? Holy shit.”

“Um, yes. Because, because the mistletoe-”

“Right. Because the mistletoe never promised not to hurt-... wow, that’s dark shit. Loki did that on purpose?”

“Yeah, he, um, he’s Loki. So. But, so, so, so... so this person, Baldur’s own family, um... killed him.”

“Yeah... shit. What happened after that?”

Chris rubs at the back of his neck, and feels the warmth of his Sir’s palm press over his hand, feels his mouth press a kiss to Chris’s coppery hair-

No, his hair is blue now. He did it himself. His hair is blue.

“Baldur,” He whispers, “went, went, went to, to, to... to... to hell-... I mean, um, to, to Hel, the goddess of the underworld. She, she, she saw his beauty and-... kept him. Be, beside her. And... and he couldn’t, couldn’t escape it, and come back, unless everything on earth cried for, for, for, for... for his loss. But one giant refused. So...” He trails off. “That’s, um, that’s... there’s more, but... yeah.”

“Wow.”

Chris swallows.

Well done, darlin’. You’ve never forgotten a single thing you learned for me...

“How do you know all this shit about fucking Norse gods, Chris?” Ben taps his pen on his paper, looking at his own sharp, angular handwriting, the notes he’s been taking all along. 

Unlike Chris’s notebooks, covered in loopy scrawling writing and with the margins full of doodles of shapes and little drawings of animals, Ben’s margins are as neat and empty as they can be. 

Chris usually feels like what his hand draws, a constant movement, a constant shift, filling his life in with his motion. Right now, though, he feels like Ben’s margins, empty open space. Paint over what was there before, and nothing’s left but the blank spots.

Chris shrugs. He pretends he doesn’t feel the soft weight of his Sir’s hand, resting just over the back of his neck, the brush of his lips over Chris’s earlobe, the whisper of his voice sending a shiver down his spine.

Beautiful boy. Would you like to hear about how Odin got his eight-legged horse today, darlin’?

Yes, yes... yes, Sir. Tell... tell me, tell, but can I... after can you tell me about, about Baldur again?

Silly boy. Of course I can. Lay down on your back for me. 

“I, I knew someone,” Chris says, his heart skipping a beat. He can almost feel himself leaning back into a phantom hand through his hair, ready to lay down on navy silk sheets, like none of the good things ever happened.

Like he’s still a beautiful boy, living in hell.

He breathes in, and then out. Tries to replace the feeling of Sir’s arms around him with the daydream he’s been having about Laken’s arms instead. 

“I knew someone who, um... who liked the, the stories about Baldur. A, a long time ago.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. A, um... a kid.”

“Like, a brother? I thought you just had your adopted brothers.”

“Um, no, not, not, not... not my brother.” Chris grips onto his feather necklace, again. He can almost feel the warmth of Laken’s skin when they accidentally bump against him in line to get dinner at the dining hall. “Not my brother. Just... just, um, a kid... who was kind of like me.”

---

Tagging: @burtlederp , @finder-of-rings , @endless-whump , @whumpfigure , @slaintetowhump , @astrobly @newandfiguringitout , @doveotions , @pretty-face-breaker , @boxboysandotherwhump , @oops-its-whump @moose-teeth , @cubeswhump , @cupcakes-and-pain @whump-tr0pes @whumpiary - @whimpers-and-whumpers

(Nicky - briefly referenced here - is @orchidscript’s OC Henry)

[serialreblogger]

What do you think of character game: Susan

Pevensie from Narnia?

character: hate them | don’t really care | like them | LOVE them | THEY ARE MY PRECIOUS

ship with: nobody, because in concert with @malewifelester i have decided Susan is aro (and bi). I ship her with badass femininity

friendship them with: her siblings :(( i’m just a sucker for family bonds, found or otherwise

general opinions: deserved better than getting blamed for trying to conform to the only option for feminine value she was presented with. I honestly do think that if CSL had lived 50 years later he would have had a very different take on the matter (bc as a human being, he was very genuinely well-intentioned and worked hard to avoid bigotry in his thinking. At the same time, it was the 1940s and there were a lot of fundamental precepts of racism/sexism/homophobia/transphobia/ableism etc that just weren’t ever challenged, or even explicitly mentioned, in most social circles. So, despite his best efforts, there were a lot of things it straightup never occured to him to question - like “gay is bad,” and until he met his wife, Joy, “women are inferior.” I’ve talked before about how much growth he did in the last few years of his life, when it comes to sexism; until Joy pointed it out, he literally never realized it was maybe a bit not good that the highest compliment he knew to give a woman was saying “she has the mind of a man.” Once Joy was like “hey this sucks actually” he went “o h. wow you’re so right” and never did it again, which honestly makes me respect him a lot despite disagreeing with pretty much everything he believed, because he really was that dedicated to examining every idea presented to him and pursuing that which was good and true no matter where it led, and honestly that makes him a better person than some modern-day liberals I’ve met).

That said, he did live in the 1940s, and kids today are still reading and internalizing the messages of The Last Battle, and i think that’s pretty awful so I’m gonna go ahead and make Susan a more complex and compelling character than Lewis ever intended for her to be. Aro bi in the 1940s who was raised being told she was The Pretty One, treated as more valuable than her younger sister by everyone (including her parents) for that reason, and so naturally did everything she could to cling to that label, even at the expense of everything she herself loved and valued. She wasn’t vain, but she was scared, and isolated from her siblings by the socials and special favours she received from the people who liked her for her face. Her brothers looked down on her for the same reason everyone else put her on a pedestal, and Lucy--Lucy didn’t see her either. Lucy envied her, but she didn’t really know who she was anymore.

Susan had no one.

She was expected to settle down and find a nice husband to fall in love with, but she didn’t do that, she’d never really understood what the appeal was in finding a single soul to dedicate your life to, give everything up for. She’d never fallen in love, and she didn’t want to. But she was running out of time.

And what would happen when she wasn’t young and beautiful and perfect anymore? Nobody saw Lucy, who wasn’t ugly but she was just ordinary-looking; Lucy, the sweetest person Susan ever knew, who was constantly talked over and shuffled off to spend summers with the insufferable insect-collecting cousin. What if that happened to Susan? Who would she be, if she wasn’t the beauty of the family? Would she be anyone at all?

And gosh, imagine Susan’s life after her entire family - including the only people who knew about the magic they’d had in childhood, the magic she’d taken to scoffing at because she was so afraid of what that lion who’d abandoned her would say about her now - imagine what she’d be left with after they all died in a train wreck. Imagine how entirely alone she’d be. What would her life become, when she had nothing except a face that would only stay perfect for a few years more, and no one who cared about her except the people who wanted things she could never give?

Dang it, I made myself sad.

[of-wrens-and-whirlwinds-blog]

Nanny

Commission for the ever-wonderful @depressedstressedlemonzest ! I hope you enjoy this, my love! Even though it got away from me a bit, eh heh heh. *sweats* Commission info is in my about page!

CW: ableism

~

Geralt did not know what to expect regarding the nanny he had contacted. He had been open to it being anyone, as long as they weren’t a creep.

He would never in a million years have expected his one-night-stand for two days ago to end up on his doorstep.

Geralt and Jaskier stared at each other, equally stunned. Finally, Jaskier cleared his throat and said lamely, “So you’re the Mr. Rivia who emailed me?”

“Yes,” Geralt got out stiffly.

“Daa-ddyyyy!” Ciri wailed from the living room. “Hungry!”

Geralt grimaced and rubbed his forehead. “Please come in,” he said with no enthusiasm. “I have to get Ciri her lunch.”

Jaskier nodded and followed him inside the small townhouse.

Ciri was stomping inside her pen, making frustrated noises. As soon as Geralt lifted her out, she beamed and threw her arms around his neck. “Hungry!” she yelled again, right in his ear.

“Of course, love,” Geralt agreed, rubbing her back soothingly as he took her to the kitchen. “What would you like for lunch today?”

“Ramen!” Ciri squealed, bouncing in his arms and tugging his hair. Geralt didn’t even flinch. He was used to it by now.

So he put Ciri in the high chair, started the ramen, and only remembered Jaskier when Ciri asked, “Who are you?”

“I’m Julian,” Jaskier replied. “And you are?”

“Ciri. That’s my daddy!”

“I noticed!”

Geralt’s mouth tightened as Jaskier and Ciri chatted. They were already on their way to being friends. Not good. If he decided not to hire Jaskier, Ciri would be upset and cry. But it would be better to not hire him. Right?

It had been a very good night when he shared Jaskier’s bed. He’d especially liked how Jaskier had--

Geralt swallowed hard and poured in the ramen noodles. They had both decided to end it there. It was a bad idea to let Jaskier stick around. He was too… bright, and loud, and frankly annoying. It didn’t matter that his terrible flirting was entertaining, or that he was a great singer, or that he obviously knew how to befriend children. Geralt would probably get pissed enough to throw him out in a week.

Ciri crowed with laughter and Geralt’s breath caught in his throat. She hadn’t laughed like that for anyone other than Geralt since Yennefer left.

With his heart sufficiently aching from Ciri’s excitement, Geralt turned away from the stove and walked to the table. Jaskier was already teaching her that stupid song about the spider and the water spout, and how to move her hands to the words. They were both grinning, as Ciri tried to sing along. Geralt wanted to say something, but she was happy, so he got a juicebox from the fridge and set it in reach for her, then retreated to the counter to watch them.

“Do you like ramen?” Ciri asked Jaskier, her green eyes wide with fascination.

“I do,” Jaskier replied, still smiling. “It’s one of my favorite foods.”

“It’s mine too!” Ciri said gleefully, waving her arms and knocking over the juicebox. Geralt lunged and caught it, and set it on the tray of the highchair again. “I like chicken ramen best! Daddy makes the best chicken ramen!”

Jaskier glanced over to Geralt, looking thoroughly amused. Geralt reddened in embarrassment. “That’s wonderful, wee,” Jaskier told Ciri. “Do you eat it often?”

“Every day!” Ciri crowed proudly.

Jaskier’s smile faded a little, but then he brightened it again. “Wow, it must be really good.”

“It is!”

Geralt looked down at the floor to hide his shamed expression. It was a good thing Ciri liked ramen, cold cereal, and canned soup; Geralt hadn’t had the money to buy fresh food since the lawyers stripped Geralt of his income from Vesemir’s estate. Unemployment payments were barely enough to pay the mortgage, the utilities, and Ciri’s diapers. Anything extra came from odd jobs around the city.

But he simply could not afford to leave Ciri alone, not when he needed to find a full-time job, and none of the daycare centers would accept a child of a Witcher. So--a nanny.

Ciri and Jaskier kept talking, and Geralt kept feeling more and more horrible, as Ciri told Jaskier all about her and Geralt’s playing every day except the days after he drank too much, and visiting Lambert and Eskel for dinner (they had insisted on at least feeding them, though Geralt refused their financial help), and her mommy sending her presents in the mail. At least, Daddy said they were from her mommy.

Geralt turned away at that point. The presents were not from Yennefer. They were what he could buy with scraped-up savings. He didn’t want Ciri to think Yenn had abandoned her, and to never remember her fondly.

The ramen was done. He drained it, put half a packet of seasoning in, and brought it to Ciri, along with her favorite spork. She squealed in delight and immediately began eating. Geralt’s stomach ached. Fuck, had she been hungry all morning? Was that day’s breakfast not enough? They didn’t have much cereal left, and he wasn’t sure he could afford more when the next check came in, oh fuck, he was going to have another panic attack--

“Please slow down, love,” Geralt managed to say, stroking Ciri’s hair gently. “You’ll hurt yourself.”

Ciri grumbled, but slowed. Geralt sat at the table across from Jaskier, and waited for the reprimands. Everyone reprimanded him when they got to know how he was raising Ciri. It was why he never told anyone about her unless pressed.

He was shaking. His chest hurt, especially his lungs. Why did he feel so light-headed?

“So,” Jaskier said, breaking through Geralt’s fearful thoughts. “I’m assuming the interview can happen now?”

No, absolutely not. Jaskier should leave, and swear not to report Geralt for neglect. Instead of saying that, Geralt nodded mutely.

“Innervu?” Ciri asked with her mouth full.

“An interview is where a person asks another questions, usually about their work,” Jaskier told her.

“But Daddy doesn’t work,” Ciri replied, confused.

Jaskier’s face flickered sadness before he shut that emotion away. “No, he’s going to ask me questions.”

“Ohhh.” Ciri nodded wisely and continued eating.

Geralt swallowed hard. Questions. He’d had a list of questions, hadn’t he? On his phone? He pulled his phone out of his pocket and navigated through his various note and writing apps until he found the one where he kept questions for professionals like doctors and lawyers. There, the list for the nanny. He opened it and slid it across the table to Jaskier.

Jaskier picked it up and read the first question out loud. “Do you have education related to caring for children? Actually, yes, my major in college was childcare. I’ve kept up to date on research and techniques, especially for younger children. How long have you been a nanny? About eight years, now; the first child was about ten and was sent to boarding school a year later, and the second child was a pair of twins. They were delightful, but I have very little training for special needs children, so I pointed their parents towards one of my colleagues who is trained. Do you know sign language? A little. I can converse in it, but I’m not an expert.”

Geralt listened hard as Jaskier worked down the list of questions, and grudgingly decided that Jaskier was a good enough fit. There were probably better nannies, but Geralt would never be able to afford them. So, when Jaskier handed the phone back, Geralt nodded and forced himself to say, “Good.”

“Daddy,” Ciri said suddenly, putting her spork down and reaching for him. “Breathe-hugs.”

Geralt obediently stood and picked her up, and hugged her tightly, facing away from Jaskier a little. Breathe-hugs. He kept forgetting his breathing exercises, but hugging Ciri helped him remember to calm down. This was only the fourth time that she had offered breathe-hugs before he thought of them. It made him feel terrible, that he leaned on her so much. But she was also the only thing still holding him to this shitty world.

He shouldn’t use his daughter as an anchor. He really shouldn’t.

After several deep breaths, he was calm enough to put her down again, and sit. He swallowed hard and said, “Thank you for answering my questions.”

Jaskier was frowning slightly. “You’re very welcome,” he replied. “Are you alright?”

Geralt nodded. “Do you have questions?” he asked, hands tightening on his elbows.

“Ah, yes, a few. Do you have any kind of steady income?”

“Yes,” Geralt said. “I get my unemployment check every month.”

Jaskier pursed his lips and frowned more. Then he asked cautiously, “How much will you be out of the house?”

“I… don’t know,” Geralt confessed. “I’m starting an internship on Monday, but I’m still not sure if I have a schedule yet.” That pained him worse than knowing the position was given to him out of pity.

“Paid internship?”

“...No.”

“Oh.” Jaskier tapped his finger on the table and bit his lip, then nodded firmly. “Well! I think we’ll suit well enough. What do you think, sir?”

Geralt blinked, then blurted, “I do too.”

“Excellent.” Jaskier beamed at him. “I’ll be by tomorrow morning to start.”

~

It was three weeks later and Geralt was a wreck.

Jaskier had started right out with telling Geralt that penning Ciri for most of the day was a terrible idea, and then showed him how to childproof the house.

“Pens are fine if you’re trying to train a puppy,” Jaskier explained, “But children aren’t puppies. She needs room. She needs to explore the house.”

“My father put me in a pen,” Geralt said hesitantly. “I turned out fine.”

Jaskier gave him an unimpressed look. “Nevertheless, Ciri isn’t you. Give her space to play.”

Ciri hadn’t known what to do without her pen, until Jaskier convinced her to play hide-and-seek. Then they had both run all over the house, hiding and laughing and exploring. Geralt’s heart was in his mouth the whole time, as he tried to make sure Ciri was safe and unhurt. The pen had been as much to keep her safe as it was meant to keep her where Geralt could find her.

After that, Jaskier went through the kitchen and declared that he was going to buy some frozen food and fresh veggies.

“Those are expensive,” Geralt blurted, alarmed.

Jaskier shook his head. “Not all of them. Bring Ciri, and I’ll show you the good deals.”

Geralt did not have a car safe enough to drive Ciri in. The one he used to drive was on its last legs, and so he usually either begged a ride from Eskel or took the bus with her. Jaskier frowned a little, and asked, “How long have you had that car?”

Geralt shrugged. “About twenty years,” he said.

So they took the bus, and Jaskier let Ciri sit in his lap and play with his necklace, which held a silver pendant shaped like a lute, with gold designs inlaid on it. They talked about animals, and Geralt kept his head down. The shame from being stared at like he was some sort of creep for having a daughter still roiled in his gut and made him nauseous.

Grocery shopping was strange, because Jaskier kept pointing out things that were cheap and Geralt had to tell him, over and over, in front of other people, “I only have fifty crowns, I can’t afford to spend it on only one week of food.”

Jaskier somehow negotiated him into buying some potatoes, and wretchedness settled on Geralt when he realized he wouldn’t have enough money to buy Ciri a present for two or three months. She had plenty of toys, though, surely she wouldn’t mind?

“Daddy, why are you sad?”

Geralt hugged Ciri closer and kissed her forehead. “I’m not sad, love.”

The internship was more draining than any other job he’d ever had. Everything was too loud, too fast, too hot, too much--but he had to do this. He had to be hired. Because he needed money for Ciri.

Jaskier kept Ciri company, and taught her songs, and bought her workbooks with her favorite cartoon characters. Most evenings, Geralt showered, changed clothes, and then slumped wherever they were and watched. It hurt, honestly, that she was so much happier with Jaskier. But, well, Jaskier was a better person in general.

And then on the third week of everything, Geralt completely broke down.

It was while he was making dinner. His nerveless fingers dropped the butter and the spoon, his knees buckled, and when he was crouched on the floor, rocking on his toes, he let himself whimper a little. He could not cry; he would not cry in front of Ciri. She didn’t deserve to see him be weak like this. But gods, he wanted to sleep, sleep forever, vanish from this planet and become nothing, so he would never feel or hurt or cry or disappoint or scare again.

A large, warm hand settled gently on his back. “You can go lay down,” Jaskier said gently beside him. “I can finish dinner. Go lay down, Geralt. It’s okay.”

So Geralt went to his room, and shut the door and laid down and let himself sob. Worthless, useless, couldn’t even keep a fucking internship long enough to be hired--

He must have fallen asleep, because when he opened his eyes it was late at night. He sniffed, wiped his scratchy eyes, and got out of bed. Maybe there were some leftovers in the fridge. Probably not. Ciri had been eating so much lately, and her energy had gone through the roof. Geralt had to keep cutting down on his own portion so she would have enough. Was that why he was so exhausted and achey lately?

When he reached the kitchen, he blinked.

Jaskier was at the table with a laptop, looking grim. He had papers all over the table, and a thick notepad that he wrote in every few seconds. He looked up at Geralt in the doorway, and managed a tired smile. “Hey,” he whispered. “There’s food in the fridge. Ciri wanted to leave everything, but I convinced her to eat some.”

Geralt nodded and got the leftover soup and fried potatoes out of the fridge, not even bothering to heat them up before spooning some into a bowl and sitting down at the other side of the table to eat. He hurt. But because he wanted noise, any noise, to keep his thoughts away from the evil place in his head, he looked up at Jaskier and asked, “What are you doing?”

“Researching unemployment laws,” Jaskier answered, tapping a few keys and then scribbling on his notepad. “It’s illegal to pay you so little when you have a child. Did you know you’re supposed to get two thousand crowns a month?”

Geralt gaped at him. “Whuh… the lawyers told me I could only have eight hundred,” he replied, feeling another surge of confusion and self-hate boil up in his chest. “Because my brothers have jobs.”

Jaskier looked up sharply, and he looked livid. “They were basing their calculations on your brothers’ incomes?” he demanded.

Geralt flinched, and nodded. “They--they have custody of me,” he explained. “Because a judge ordered when I was nineteen that I have to have a guardian.”

It was Jaskier’s turn to gape. Then he asked, much more gently, “If they are your guardians, why don’t you live with them?”

“Because…” Geralt frowned, trying to remember. “Because the homeowner’s association forbade my brothers from taking me in. So they gave me money to buy this house, and moved to a new apartment. But when I bought the house, some attorneys came by and claimed I was violating court orders, so they took my inheritance.”

“That’s illegal!” Jaskier burst out, aghast. “Why would they do that?”

Geralt’s head was pounding and his breath was getting shorter. He didn’t like thinking about that year. He didn’t like it all. It was a clusterfuck of despair and confusion and terror and he didn’t want to think of it. “I don’t know,” he said, and his voice shook. “I don’t know.”

Jaskier opened his mouth to say something else, then thought better of it, and sighed. “I’m sorry, Geralt,” he said. “I shouldn’t have pried. But now we have some idea of what to do.”

“Huh?”

“Well, you’re being discriminated against, mistreated, and refused the help you need. So.” Jaskier steepled his fingers and grinned, eyes glinting fiercely. “We’re going to tear these fuckers apart.”

~

A year later, Geralt hated the memories of the confusion and rage of dealing with laws and lawyers and people casually threatening to take Ciri away from him if he didn’t shut up and go away. He hated them with the fury of the planet’s molten core.

But outcomes had been good.

His payments were raised to the legal amount. He was allowed to go to therapy and job training without being threatened. Ciri had new clothes and a new bed and new favorite foods. And Jaskier was not annoying anymore. On the contrary, he had become something much, much better.

Jaskier was still only the nanny. But Geralt had a plan, and it involved the engagement ring he bought on the one-year anniversary of hiring Jaskier.

[princeescaluswords]

The way Teen Wolf stans have this racist/ableist idea of fully endorsing a "culling the weak, pure strong pack members only allowed" and ridding any "unfit" (Scott, Boyd, Deaton) people and flaunting their oh so Gray Morality.... shouldn't that mean they should've been pressing for Laura to off Peter while he was bedbound? I mean.... he's "slowing down the pack" plus she's the unquestionable Alpha and Alphas get stronger by killing their Betas. Certainly, a "Left Hand" could understand that decision right? Plus, Peter was "betraying" the pack by being actually awake and mobile yet he didn't reach out to his Supreme leader. Also also, Peter "failed" to protect the pack while Laura and Derek were away at school so it's further proof he's "unfit" and oh wow, using fandom logic here, shouldn't they be on board for this?

Strangely enough, what you propose in your question is why I scoff at the endlessly employed defense of “fiction =/= reality.”  No one who agrees with me believes that they’re the same thing; we say that fiction can influence reality just as reality can influence fiction.  

We point to an example of this in the way Teen Wolf fanfiction and fandom mimics behavior in real-life and in return, gives expression to real life impulses.  The fandom talks about the Left Hand and the necessary superiority of born wolves (blood purity) and culling the weak, but in the end it’s just about finding a way to express lust and wrath and envy without admitting it.   

To move this into the abstract, their vision of werewolf supremacy is a microcosmic vision of the historical macrocosm of eugenics.  This social evil sounds reasonable on the surface -- humankind would have a better life if they encouraged positive traits within the species and eliminated negative traits.  But in practice, it always, always, turns into eliminating traits (i.e. people) that those in power dislike and promoting traits (i.e. people) that those in power like.  

So it is with the “way werewolves are supposed to be” in Teen Wolf fandom.  As you pointed out, if you examine any of their criteria for who gets to be culled, it is always applied unequally.

Villains who are responsible for the death of other people deserve to be culled such as Kate, Matt, Gerard, Jennifer, Deucalion, Kali, Ennis, the twins, the assassins, and the Beast, and the Dread Doctors either earned their deaths or deserved to die.  Unless, of course, the villains had a good reason for killing people, like Peter or Theo (who happen to be sexy white men whom the fandom adores).  

Villains who are not directly responsible for the deaths of people but whose behavior contributed to deaths also deserve to be culled, such as Deaton (who didn’t share enough information in their opinion and didn’t train or help someone who didn’t ask to be trained or for help), Scott (who was too weak to do what was necessary) and Allison (who indirectly contributed to the deaths of Boyd and Erica through convoluted logic that I still don’t parse).   On the other hand, Derek, whose responsibility for the deaths in Season 2 and 3A is easily parsed, does not deserve to be culled.   Stiles, who was too weak to resist the nogitsune, does not deserve to be culled.  Peter, who, while he didn’t realize the Dead Pool was his idea must have recognized the participants but said nothing, does not deserve to be culled.  

Even rebels against the old order deserve to be culled, with Palpatine-like efficiency!   Scott, as a colonizing invader against the Hale legacy (I can’t help but snort every time circumstances cause me to write that), must be punished for holding territory that doesn’t exist and usurping an alpha spark that he already possessed before Derek lost his. (Oh, I forgot, in what would be the most extraordinary convoluted plot without any clear motivation whatsoever, Deaton cunningly and despicably manipulated the Nemeton and/or Derek into giving the his alpha spark to Scott before Derek lost his, however that works, instead of just convincing Scott to kill Derek and take his spark that way.  Unless, of course, he needed his puppet Scott to get the power in a certain way, which he succeeded in doing but Deaton never actually used in 64 episodes.  I don’t know.  Neither do they.  Maybe the fandom DID write Season 4!)

In any event, true peace and prosperity wouldn’t come until that tyrant Scott is punished/slain/deprived of power, because the Hales and their wonderbaby Stiles can’t be happy since Scott would stick his nose into their behavior.  Such as when Stiles appeared to have broken Scott’s unbreakable-rule-that-didn’t-actually exist and, in true tyrannical fashion, told Stiles he wanted some space and go talk to his Dad.  That’s always what is mystifying to me -- Scott is a problem always even though canon Scott wouldn’t get involved if they just left him alone and didn’t kill innocents!  

You see my point.  ‘Culling the weak’ isn’t about securing peace and security for the town or the pack or even for their self-insert and whichever blood-soaked villain he’s screwing this story.   It’s about righting the wrong of having a Latino in a position of authority and responsibility instead of their white favorites.  It’s simply another expression of their racist rage that a white man wasn’t the most important character in the story, taking its spot next to “stupid Scott” and “sexually-obsessed Scott” and “stubbornly angry Scott” and “bad friend Scott.”   

It’s racism and ableism, buried under urban-fantasy grittiness, neo-fascist philosophy, and law-of-the-jungle vicariousness.   But then we knew that already.

[aster-aspera]

Another drabble I wrote for my superhero AU, though this one turned out a lot longer than I expected.

masterlist for my superhero AU

Relationships: platonic/romantic DLAMP

CW: chronic pain, flare ups, some internalized ableism, mentions of Janus’s mom’s less than stellar parenting.

A/N: While this chapter vaguely draws on my experiences with my back and knees, I don’t have arthritis. I tried to do as much research as possible and hope I have managed to portray it correctly. If my depiction is in any way offensive or incorrect, please don’t hesitate to inform me and I will correct my mistakes or even delete this writing. Hope you enjoy <3

Janus woke up with that familiar hurt curled around his bones. He sighed wearily as he looked out the large stained glass windows. Rain was beating against the panes with a violent intensity. 

Some days he wondered why he stayed here, wouldn’t it be better to just move to a nice sunny country where the sky didn’t seem to want to drown them? Who was he kidding, this city would never let him go, rain and his aching bones be damned.

He rolled over in bed a few times, hoping stubbornly the pain would allow him to sleep a little longer. It was way too early to even think about getting up, in his opinion. After a few more minutes of his body complaining and aching, he wearily dragged himself out of bed. 

He fumbled around for his cane and slowly made his way to the kitchen. He popped a heat pad into the microwave and switched on the kettle. Fortunately, it was still filled with water, meaning he didn’t have to struggle with taps right now. Picking up the heating pad had been hard enough with his hands feeling like they had been run over by a steamroller.

Why did it have to be today of all days? It wasn’t like he’d had that many plans but he had been meaning to at least get some work done. 

There was no way he’d be able to do much of anything today, merely the thought of typing made him cringe, let alone the thought of actually going outside. 

When his heat pad was warm, he curled up on the couch in the most comfortable position he could find and resigned himself to a day spent watching mindless television.

Somewhere around ten, a call came in and Janus fumbled to answer it with his stiff and aching fingers. 

“Damore,” He introduced curtly. If it was another bullshit telemarketer he was going to strangle someone. Once his body was halfway functioning again, of course.

“Hello Janus,” Logan’s voice filtered through the phone speakers, in the background he heard Roman yell something. “Yes, I’ll ask, now could you please be quiet,” Logan said, presumably to Roman.

Janus felt his lips quirk up into a smile despite himself.

“We were wondering if you would like to accompany us to Carntos forest, we were planning a hike.” The smile slipped off Janus's face. Of all days to have a flare up.

“As much as I would love to, I’m afraid I can’t come. Maybe some other day.” He tried not to sound too bitter. 

“Oh,” Logan sounded disappointed “why not?”

Janus hesitated. Usually, he would just grasp at the nearest convenient lie, he could easily tell them he was busy with work. But, he’d been learning not to do that, to let them in, not to bury himself in lies and mystery. 

“I’m not feeling too well today,” He eventually said, he didn’t feel like explaining his condition right now. His mother’s words still echoed in his head.

They wouldn’t think him weak, would they? They were good people. But after a lifetime of being told that he was faking it and to suck it up, he wasn’t exactly keen to share it with other people. He was supposed to be strong, a terrifying villain, not someone who could barely get out of bed some days.

He was shook out of his self deprecating thoughts by Logan. “Are you alright? Do we need to come over?” He asked, his voice filled with concern.

Janus felt emotion well up in his throat, not a lot of people held so much concern for him. He shook his head. Really? He was getting all teary eyed over some polite sympathy?

“No, I’m fine. I hope you enjoy your hike.” He pressed the end call button before Logan could say something else that would make him bawl like a baby.

He was just dozing off uncomfortably, when a knock on his door startled him. 

Who was even…?

He got up painfully and limped to the door, leaning heavily on his cane. He grabbed the gun from its hiding place before opening the door. It never hurt to be cautious. When he opened it, he was greeted by four smiling faces.

“Hi,” Patton greeted cheerfully, “We brought soup.” He held up a large container. 

In that eloquent way of his, Janus just stuttered out “What?”

Roman gently grabbed his shoulders and steered him back inside, putting the gun down on the table. The others followed, Virgil laden with a variety of food and Logan carrying some dvd’s. Patton made his way into the kitchen and started clattering around in the cabinets. 

“We’re here to take care of you,” Roman explained as he sat Janus down on the couch. Then he abruptly drew back “It’s not contagious is it?” 

“No, it’s not,” Janus said, distracted by Patton and Virgil doing god knows what in the kitchen and Logan heading towards his bedroom. They had all invaded his space with a swift efficiency.

“Great, so what’s wrong?” Roman asked, sitting down on the couch opposite him.

“It’s…” Janus’s mind was not cooperating right now. He tried to think of something.

“Dude, I’m literally a nurse, you can tell me.”

“I’d rather not.” Janus said, sounding a lot more defensive than he had meant. He was just slightly stressed out by these people barging into his house and Roman pestering him. He really wanted a nap and for today to be over.

Roman looked him over critically. “Fine, you don’t have to tell me, but we’re not leaving till you feel better.”

“Prepare to stay a while then,” Janus couldn’t help himself from laughing bitterly.

Roman’s eyebrows scrunched up adorably and then he smiled. “Well, that’s good, ‘cause Patton brought lots of food, so we can hang around for as long as needed.”

Janus curled his shoulders protectively. “You don’t have to.”

“But we want to.” Logan had appeared from the bedroom with an armful of blankets and was looking at Janus with such gentle and loving eyes and Janus had absolutely no idea how to deal with any of this. Why were they here? Why would they ditch their plans just to take care of him? Why did they even care?

Virgil and Patton came in too, carrying a tray laden with fresh buns, fruit, a bowl of soup and some tea. Janus’s stomach grumbled noisily. He’d only really eaten some crackers, as he didn’t have the energy to prepare anything more fancy than that.

“I don't know what you want to eat right now, so I’d thought I’d go with the classics for someone who’s sick but I have other stuff too, if you want.” Patton fretted.

“No, this is fine.” Janus replied. 

He made to eat the soup then stopped abruptly. There was no way he could manage that, his hands were aching all the way from the tips of his fingers to his elbows and they were so stiff he could barely curl them around the spoon, let alone coordinate them enough to eat.

He suddenly felt very vulnerable, with all of them staring at him. He cleared his throat. 

“I’m actually not really in the mood for soup.” He apologized and reached for the bread. That, at least he could eat without too much trouble.

“That’s fine, we just need to make sure you eat something. You’ll never get better if you starve yourself,” Patton replied cheerfully.

Janus cringed internally. They didn’t know, he couldn’t blame them for it, but god, did those words hurt. Always that same question: are you better yet?

“So, which movie do you want to watch?” Roman burst out, eager to get started on that.

“Maybe you should first ask him if he even wants to watch a movie, you idiot.” Virgil hissed.

“All right, no need to rain on the black parade, sunshine,” Roman defended.

Logan rolled his eyes.

“I’d love to watch a movie,” Janus said before the two could start a full blown argument.

The others settled into the couch and Janus barely suppressed a whimper when Logan jostled his legs. Wow, he was really pathetic today.

Despite his best efforts, Logan noticed his discomfort and looked at him, his eyebrows knitted in concern. 

“Did I hurt you?”

“No,” Janus immediately deflected, then when Logan’s eyebrows did not change their stance “It’s just… my knees hurt, so please be careful.”

“Oh, did you hurt them during patrol?” Patton asked. 

“Patrol?” 

“You fell off a roof?”

Oh, yeah, that had happened. His cheeks heated up in shame as Virgil tried to stifle a laugh. Jumping over rooftops was not his forte. The fall itself had probably looked a lot worse than it actually was, he had only vaguely scraped his elbows.

“Yeah, I remember. No it’s not that.”

“Really? It looked like a pretty bad fall, it would make sense that your knees hurt after something like that.”

Patton didn’t seem like he would let it go anytime soon. He was clearly worried about Janus. He sighed, it was going to come to light some day, better to bite the bullet now than to wait for when he would be forced to reveal it. He took a deep breath, oddly nervous. He shouldn’t be this worried, they cared for him, they were his friends, they had come all the way here to take care of him.

“I’m actually just having a bad flare up today.” 

A beat of silence followed his statement and Janus tried not to panic. But Roman just nodded understandingly.

“You mind if I ask what…?”

“Rheumatoid arthritis, symptoms started when I was about seventeen.”

“You could have just told us, honey,” Patton exclaimed.

“I don’t always feel comfortable sharing it”

“Well, I’m happy you felt comfortable sharing it with us,” Virgil said.

“Yes, I’m happy you trust us with this knowledge, Janus.” 

What was this annoying fuzzy feeling in his stomach? It was probably the tea, or maybe the buns, who knew what Patton put in those.

“Do you need anything?” Roman asked.

“Well, some more heat pads would be nice.”

“I'll get it.” Virgil got up.

“Does it jostle you too much when we sit on the couch?” Logan asked.

Janus hesitated, he was already bothering them so much, it really wasn’t polite to kick them off the couch too.

“Jan, sweety, please be honest with us, we don’t want to hurt you,” Patton pleaded.

“Yeah, it does.”

All of them happily moved to the floor, laying down some pillows and blankets so it was still comfortable. Virgil returned and passed him the heat pads.

“So, how long do these flare ups usually last?” Roman asked.

“Usually most of the day, sometimes longer.” 

“Well, as Roman promised, we’re staying here as long as it lasts.”

“Yay! Slumber party,” Patton exclaimed.

“As long as you don’t throw any pillows at me,” Logan sighed, before promptly getting hit in the face by a pillow from Virgil. He looked at him with a look of utter betrayal.

Eventually, everyone got settled and they turned the movie back on. Janus tried his best to focus on the plot but soon found himself drifting off.

[neednothavehappenedtobetrue]

under the cut, a long update on Today When A Dude From Work Yelled At Me

tl;dr my boss is being even more spineless than usual, has explicitly told his two disabled female direct reports that if we experience more ableist nonsense from some guy who has already yelled at us he will not intervene or back us up because “conflict is healthy”

however, the director of another team was also there and at least she is not spineless!

also I fully hate my job and have resigned from interviewing applicants for staff positions here, because I’m worried that the next time someone asks what it’s like to work here I will tell them.

(I do know that “previously never having been yelled at in your workplace” is a big privilege few people have and I know I sound here a bit like my boss does every time he goes “wow I didn’t realize there was so much ableism,”)

(also yeah, he has repeatedly this week been like “I’m so surprised that ableism is so entrenched and people are so unwilling to talk about it,” and it’s like, buddy, you are surprised all by yourself here)

anyway, this meeting’s key players:

-my boss

-me

-my favorite coworker, who does a similar job to mine

-the woman who does my boss’s job, but in Canada

-the woman who does my job, but in Canada

-the jackass who yelled at us

-two women from his team, neither of whom said much, although one of them did decide, at a point well after her team member literally yelled at us, that the conversation was “over time, we’ve gotta go” and ended the call abruptly.

(I would pay money to see any backchannel conversations those team members were having during this call, like, do they totally agree that we’re being Extreme and Adversarial or are they like “uh, buddy, maybe we could back this up a step?” do the two women have a chat thread the asshole’s not in and what does it say?

but also I don’t need them to see the backchannel my team had that started out with “this is a lot of jargon, what does this mean?” and finished with, like, it’s a work software and if they wanted to IT could see it so there’s a line to be mindful of, but there was mild snark all around, and a few instances of me using the word “buddy” in the way where I would use “asshole” on a non-work chat software.

(Cool Colleague and I did at one point start a text message thread on our personal phones that’s just completely impolitic and 50% full-on swearing)

I would not be delighted if other people saw our Teams backchannel, but I would be willing to defend all of it, if I had to.

we haven’t fired one lady for “bullying other team members so bad that two of them quit explicitly because of her bullying and said so on the record,” so I feel like “being sarcastic on the work chat” is not a firing offense here.

also, like, they’d have to fire at least 2/3 of my department, which would be… kind of hilarious, actually? no one of us is individually irreplaceable, but if our whole department collapsed it would be a Bad Time For Everyone.

Cool Coworker is for SURE quitting as soon as she can line something up, so probably she’ll be replaced before I quit, but also, do you know how funny it would be if we quit simultaneously and the whole office was like “oh fuck, we needed those two people pretty bad, actually, maybe we should have done something the fifth or sixth time they said they were feeling undervalued and demoralized? whoops!”

anyway, as I said earlier, this meeting consisted of our three person team, the two-person team who does our job in Canada, and the team of which Yelling Man is the director

(today I learned that Yelling Man actively wants to quit working here, but can’t because “the CEO won’t let him,” is that a thing? how does that work? I’m sorry you hate it here, buddy, but you still can’t yell at me)

anyway, Canada’s department head had to leave the meeting early (by which I mean like 30 minutes after it was supposed to end, it continued after that) so I think she missed the yelling (now I wish she hadn’t, I feel like she was the person most likely to say “guy, you’re yelling at us, what if you didn’t?)

so the meeting ended, we debriefed.

I asked my boss to interrupt this guy if he raises his voice in future meetings. my boss said no, because conflict is healthy

I asked my boss if he would back me up/cover for me if I need to leave a meeting for 90 seconds to calm down because a dude is yelling at me. no, he will not do that either, because conflict is healthy.

there will be at least one additional meeting on this subject with a dude who yelled at us for calling out ableism and my boss has informed his two junior female disabled staff members that if this guy yells ableist nonsense at us a second time, he will do literally nothing to intervene or help us and he won’t try to call out this guy on how he behaved today, either.

I do genuinely appreciate the vast amount of off-the-record paid sick time I’ve gotten, but also, I am maybe ready to stop saying “my boss is so great, but sometimes…”

like, my boss is a spineless asshole, but sometimes he does nice things.

anyway! you know who is <not> a spineless asshole? the head of the department from Canada! she missed the yelling, but noticed how needlessly hostile and also incredibly ableist this dude was being, so she got the other Canadian to fill her in on the part she missed.

she is horrified and using words like “harassment”

she wants the folks on my team to meet with her individually to discuss and document how inappropriate this guy was, so she can do something about it.

I don’t know what our options are. despite being an org with somewhere in the neighborhood of 250 staff, I’m not sure we have an HR department?

we have the Talent people, who oversee our definitely garbage probably illegal hiring process (with interview questions like “what is your relationship with your mother like?” and “oh, but aren’t most disabled advocates just so mean all the time?”) so my hope is we can get Almost Anyone Else, but I don’t think there’s anyone else, it’s probably them.

-the Integrity team might be good, but as far as I know the three members of that team either just quit, are secretly quitting very soon, or are on sabbatical, and also I think they deal more with legal issues than just “some asshole yelling at work”

-and there’s Yelling Man’s boss, our CEO, who is not… famous for being a reasonable guy with a good understanding of workplace norms, acceptable behavior, nuance, etc. he’s also the guy who refuses to let Yelling Man quit, so I don’t know if he would be at all helpful here

but at least somebody is trying!

also, for a while I was interviewing candidates for jobs here, and I thought I could do a little bit of harm reduction. I would skip the wildly inappropriate interview questions, and I would be as honest as possible with people who asked what it was like to work here.

a woman I interviewed in January is quitting as soon as she can because it sucks so much here. her job is to tell people when we’re breaking the law, usually in ways related to privacy laws, but also I think some equity stuff.

I knew when I interviewed her that her job in particular would suck, I watched how people treated the other people who did it, ignoring them at best, belittling them sometimes. fuck rules, we’re innovators!

I definitely told her we had some strong personalities and it wouldn’t be an easy job.

in the meeting where everyone who interviewed her met to make a decision a dude tried to stop us hiring her because, essentially, fuck rules, we’re innovators, why do we need someone who cares about complying?

-the boss of her team, who has since quit, was like “we probably should try not to break the law, though”

so she got hired and now both of them are quitting because it sucks here and I feel complicit in getting her here.

- so I’m resigning from doing interviews with job candidates, theoretically because of “limited capacity” but actually because if someone asks me what it’s like to work here, I will not be able to hedge, I will absolutely be like “it sucks so much to work here. we do occasionally manage to do good work, but the process of making that happen in this incredibly dysfunctional environment grinds down staff. it is bad to work here, I am quitting the second I can, go somewhere else”

and, like, if I got lucky I could get away with that once, and also it would be a fun way to get fired, but instead of that I’m just not helping bring on staff anymore, because it makes me feel complicit when this place grinds them down”

[backupblogforjg]

The racism, sexism, homophobia, ableism and cruel tropes in Voltron

So, it’s the anniversary of the ending of Voltron. And I’m getting really, really tired of people saying that only shippers hated the ending. There were many issues with Voltron, and they were neither limited to shipping nor to S8.

So, I’ve decided to compile a list.

It gets LONG. Turns out there was a hell of a lot of racist, sexist, ableist and cruel tropes in VLD.

In fact, I had originally planned on writing a list of both the terrible tropes and the plot holes. But there just wasn’t enough room for both. The post is huge as it is, and with the plot holes, it would have been twice as long, so I had to focus on only one thing.

Salt, obviously. So, so, so much salt. I could turn a lake into a sea here. You’ve been warned.

RACISM:

1) The Alteans are genocide survivors. Out of all the Alteans, only the black Altean was used for a Reverse Racism story where she resents a teammate for belonging to the race that exterminated hers. The white Alteans are totally cool with him, and with his race in general, and only hate the bad people. But the black one had to be taught that hating people because of their race is wrong.

2) VLD Allura is also the only version of Allura who is black. In every other Voltron media (several different cartoons and comics), Allura is blond with blue eyes. All the white versions of the character get a happy ending, while only the black version ends up dying to save the world.

While "hero sacrifices their life to save the world" is not a bad trope in and of itself, it becomes bad when it kills off one of the extremely few black female characters in leading roles. You kill off a white male hero, there are 463278462387 more. You kill off the black female hero, you are kinda screwed. Making it worse, Allura had been portrayed as suffering from depression throughout the latest seasons, so that her death comes across less as heroic sacrifice and more as suicide.

3) The brown Cuban kid who dreamed of being a pilot, and never once in 78 episodes ever expressed anything but sheer love for an exciting life, in the final two minutes of the final episode ends up realizing that the place for him is a farm.

4) As told in interviews, Lotor was meant to be a bad example of mixed-race person, to contrast him with Keith as good example of mixed race person. Do I even have to point out how messed up this is?

5) Even before they became Space Nazis, back when they were still on the side of the angels, the Galra invaded and conquered planets. This is portrayed as totally cool when they happily name the prince after a "hero" who invaded and conquered a lot of worlds, and the peaceful Alteans think the guy is just as heroic as one of their greatest scientists. Apparently there is such a thing as ethically killing people to steal their land.

6) They whitewashed Keith, a character who is poc in every other iteration of Voltron.

I’m sure a lot of people are going to get angry here, claiming that I hate Keith. Let me assure you, I don’t. I love Keith, and I hate what was done to him. I hate that they took a traditionally poc character and went to frankly ridiculous lengths to erase that part of his character. Keith should be Asian, and it would be incredibly easy to make him so in VLD (seriously, all they’d have to do is update the freaking bios, an intern could do it right now in 5 minutes). But they refuse to do it.

A lot of people don’t realise that the surname “Kogane” in VLD is fanon.

I’m serious. Check his official bios page. Keith is not actually called Keith Kogane in VLD. Fans started calling him that in fanfiction, and it stuck, but it’s not canon.

In every other Voltron media, Keith is an Asian guy. But in VLD, they:

- went out of their way to always avoid giving him an Asian surname

- gave him a Texan father

- refused to confirm his race, even when every other character had a specific race. Again, check his official bios. All the other characters got a race, Keith gets “human.” It got so ridiculous it would be funny if it weren’t sad. It pretty much went like this:

Fans: Keith is half alien, but about his human half, what is his ethnicity? EPs: oh, we couldn't possibly say, because the story takes place in the future, and in the future, everybody is mixed up! So, Keith is HUMAN, we can't give him a specific race because there are no specific races in the future! Fans: ok. And what are the races of the other characters? EPs: Pidge is Italian, Lance is Cuban, Hunk is half-black half- Samoan, Shiro is Japanese. Fans: but Keith...? EPs: HUMAN! There is no such thing as race in the future!

Some people at least hoped that Keith's Texan father had Asian ancestry because he kinda looked like Shiro, who is Japanese. But the EPs confirmed that the resemblance was just a coincidence, they never meant for the dad to look Japanese.

At this point pretty much the only evidence that Keith is Asian is that he is voiced by an Asian person. But then, Josh Keaton is not Japanese, is he?

7) After whitewashing Keith, they claimed he is the best leader of Voltron, better than his poc predecessor, because he has Galra blood.

So, instead of bringing up any sort of legit reason to justify why Keith should be in charge (like his empathy or pilot skills), they go with "the half-white guy is also half space-nazi and that's why he should give the orders instead of the poc guy."

If you think I’m bashing Keith here, please ask yourself why you are getting angry at the person pointing out the whitewashing instead of getting angry at the whitewashing. Especially when, again, making VLD Keith canonically poc could be done anytime with zero cost and zero effort, and DW just doesn’t want to.

- Hunk, the half-black half-Samoan guy, was going to be killed and replaced as Paladin by a blue alien. The EPs were pissed when DW forbade them to, and complained in the interview about it.

SEXISM:

Every single woman who is ever put in charge ends up going insane, making terrible decisions that endanger her planet, or losing all of her authority.

Allura starts out as co-leader of Voltron and leader of the Coalition. Ends up as a foot soldier who takes orders from the new leader and his right-hand man, and is treated as a cadet by the Earth military.

HOMOPHOBIA:

1) Dreamworks, Netflix and the EPs very, very, very heavily promoted S7 as GLBT-friendly. The EPs gave whole interviews about the past relationship between Shiro and new character Adam, retweeted a ton of posts celebrating Shiro’s homosexuality, and enthusiastically sent tweets like "you are going to see more of Adam in S7! :D" from their personal accounts after they showed the episode that introduced him.

In S7:

- Shiro's homosexuality is so ambiguous that even the Brazilian voice actor didn't realize that he was supposed to be gay. Just by watching the show, without knowing the World Of God, you can’t tell he and the other guy were engaged.

- Adam gets about 30 seconds of screentime after that one episode they had already shown. Then he dies screaming in pain and terror in a fire.

A lot of people claimed that it was okay to kill Adam because Shiro was supposed to be our rep, not Adam, who was a brand new character we knew little about. And, out of context, that would be true. Adam was pretty much a NPC, why would his death matter?

But the problem here is the context:

- Shiro is closeted in S7, you need to read interviews to know he is gay. So, if only Shiro is meant to be the rep, they couldn’t even do that right.

- They very heavily marketed both Shiro and Adam as gay rep, and specifically talked at length about Adam in several interviews.

In THAT context, REGARDLESS of what you ship, killing off Adam revealed a complete willingness to manipulate the audience to the point of outright lying. Even if you hated Adam, even if Adashi is your NOTP, the clear evidence that the creators had absolutely no problem making empty promises was NOT a good sign.

2) The moment Shiro is revealed to be gay in interviews, he is practically quarantined from the Team.

3) Shiro is also given a Totally Not AIDS deadly disease.

Making it even worse, Shiro never actually gets cured in canon. We are told he is cured in interviews, but the show itself drops the topic entirely. Depending on where you lean in the Word Of God VS Death Of The Author debate, Shiro may be doomed to die.

4) A female villain is revealed to be a lesbian. 30 seconds later she gleefully tortures a little girl. Then she, too, dies in a fire.

(Fan outrage about pulling two Bury Your Gays in the Season that had been very heavily promoted as GLBT-friendly caused DW to retcon her death and bring her back in S8, but she was originally meant to die in the explosion)

5) Shiro ends up marrying a random character who doesn’t even get a name in the show.

ABLEISM:

1) Shiro's PTSD magically disappears offscreen. In interviews, the EPs claimed that he "got over it" between S6 and S7 because "he is a professional." Wow! Who knew being a professional magically cures mental illnesses!

2) Shiro is an amputee. The EPs admitted that they never put any thought into his status as disabled rep, they just wanted a character with a cool-looking arm. It literally didn't occur to them that making him lose his arm (TWICE! First up to the biceps, then up to the shoulder) meant anything. Also worth noting that Shiro’s new arm makes him look like the guy who tormented him.

3) Shiro is systematically robbed of his agency.

- He is the only Paladin who never gets to use his bayard.

- He loses his bond with Black for no given canon reason (and the reason they give in interviews makes no sense, they basically say that transferring his soul out of the Black Lion makes her stop loving him. But she still lets Zarkon fly her!).

I know that Keith is traditionally Black’s pilot in Voltron media (although that shouldn’t matter, because VLD made a lot of huge changes to the traditional status quo). But if they wanted Black Paladin Keith that badly, they could have given some non-insulting reason for it. For example, say “because Shiro has spent so much time within Black, their bond is now so strong that he will get absorbed again if he flies her again.” Or co-pilots in Black (if Pidge can co-pilot with Matt, why can’t Shiro co-pilot with Keith?).

- He is defeated not only by Sendak, but also by a bunch of random Alteans. He basically can’t win a fight anymore unless it’s played for laughs.

- His new robot Atlas is bigger than Voltron, but also much weaker, and can only buy a few minutes for Voltron to come save the day.

- Every single enemy he ever defeated comes back to be finished off by somebody else (even the friggin' Gladiator from S1 comes back in S8). In the epilogue, he retires in his twenties.

4) Narti, the disabled General, is fridged shortly after her introduction. For a while at least it seemed like her death had affected the remaining three Generals, but then it turns out that the "For Narti" line was a trick and they never actually planned on avenging her.

CRUEL TROPES:

1) They intentionally baited the fans by pushing the plot thread that Lotor would be redeemed. They named the episode where he defects "A New Defender," they kept saying in interviews that they come from Avatar and they are very familiar with Zuko *hint hint*, they showed his family as incredibly abusive and Lotor himself as desperate, they showed that Lotor was a victim of severe racism (he is mixed race, and as stated above, the Galra are Space Nazis and are pretty obsessed with blood purity).

Then, after revealing him to be a villain, they gave an interview where they practically dislocated their shoulders by patting themselves on the back as they gleefully bragged that "we made them think we would give them a Zuko, but we gave them an Azula!"

(Nevermind the fact that Azula herself was a 14-year-old child, not a monster, and that Aaron Ehasz himself confirmed that he always wanted her to be redeemed).

When fans who are survivors of child abuse told them that the bait-and-switch was really hurtful, they laughed it off, and claimed that Lotor was just beyond redemption. Then they proceeded to redeem Lotor's abusive parents, who were objectively much worse.

2) Shiro’s clone, who sincerely believed he was Shiro and always meant well, was dehumanised, demonised and discarded like his life meant nothing. His short existence was full of pain from literally the moment he first opened his eyes, as Haggar kept torturing him with migraines to manipulate him. In the end, she brutally violates him body and mind, and brainwashes him to force him to turn on the family he was so desperate to find in The Journey. He dies in incredibly questionable circumstances, without ever getting to learn that his family survived Haggar’s plans. He is victim-blamed for the things she forced him to do against his will with mind-control, and is never mourned because the only family he ever had writes him off as a “thing” and “evil.”

In fact, the horrific treatment of Kuron foreshadowed S8. The Medium article “It never stops at one - Why Voltron: Legendary Defender's tragic ending wasn't a surprise and why more DreamWorks' series will follow suit” explains how.

The tl;dr version is that, when a story posits that the circumstances of your birth determine the value of your life, so that good intentions and hard work mean nothing, and long-established bonds can be discarded with zero thought and care, and your very humanity can be revoked over something you have absolutely no control over, and the whole sociopathic disaster is celebrated as a happy ending... it really, really can’t end well. Not just for you, but for the entire cast.

[tessatechaitea]

Justice League #1 (1987)

This is actually a more impressive line-up than I remember.

I'm pretty sure this line-up is a huge scam. I don't remember Doctor Fate interacting too much with this group and I think Shazam bows out fairly quickly. Batman probably does that thing where he acts like he's leader (even if Martian Manhunter actually is) and only helps out every sixth mission. So at that point, the line-up is already decreasing in strength and intimidation factor quickly. Adding Fire, Ice, and Booster Gold later won't really improve the team much. But I'm getting ahead of myself. My impressions from this initial cover were "Wow! Pretty interesting team!" and "What asshole fucking decided on the shit stencil font for the title?" Sorry, I cuss a lot when I'm writing on the Internet and trying to seem like a bad-ass. The issue begins with Guy Gardner calling the other Green Lanterns jerks and suggesting, to himself, that he should be the Commander-in-Chief of the new Justice League. Some people would read this first page and think, "What an arrogant fucking asshole." But my stomach got all queasy and I giggled a little bit and I muttered quietly under my breath, "I love him."

I'm not saying it isn't composed of some truly ridiculous aspects but Guy still has the best costume in the DC Universe.

I don't love everything about Guy Gardner because most writers at the time didn't truly understand him. They made him a jerk that nobody would like because they were too cold-hearted to see the brain damaged cool guy that he really was. Guy Gardner often needed to be written by somebody who loved the character; it would have done him a world of good. He could still have been that abrasive jerk. But written deftly, those who actually cared to take the time would see his true self. Sure, that would also be an abrasive jerk! But a little bit more likable!

Stallone was pretty sensitive in a few scenes in Rocky IV!

Black Canary is second to arrive, after which Mister Miracle and Oberon show up. I never quite understood how Oberon fit into the Justice League. Wasn't he like an agent or a manager? Did Batman and Martian Manhunter need Oberon to sign off on every mission or else Scott Free would have to remain behind? I bet he was included just so Giffen and DeMatteis could make dwarf jokes.

Why would Guy choose Sneezy?! Oberon's breathing has been impeccable since he arrived!

Normally after some kind of cynical prediction about the comic book that immediately is proved true, I'd write, "Grandmaster Comic Book Reader!" But it doesn't feel right to say it in this case. I mean, Oberon is present for four panels before he becomes the butt of a joke based on his diminutive nature. And by Guy Gardner, no less! Is this why I loved him so much at sixteen?! What a terrible and typical sixteen year old white heterosexual male I was! Black Canary (whose costume I'm just now noticing is really fucking weird) responds to Guy's awful behavior by saying, "Dozens of GLs around and we get 'Rambo' with a ring!" That's unfair to Rambo! I'm also unsure who in this story (including the writers of this story) have actually seen First Blood. Gardner is more like the authority mad Sheriff Teasle than the sensitive green beret John Rambo! Rambo should be admired as a hero, battling back against corrupt cops who think they have the right to use as much force as they want for any stupid fucking reason! It's possible they were talking about the Rambo from the second film who gets to kill more than one person because the people he's killing are Russians and Vietnamese. He does get a bit murder crazy in the second film. Or maybe they're talking about Rambo from the third film which wasn't actually out yet so I don't have to read up on it. Next to arrive are Captain Marvel, Blue Beetle, and Martian Manhunter. Martian Manhunter proves to be a buzzkill, reminding everybody how the old series ended in total death and disaster.

His view of the media is pretty spot on though.

J'onn calls up the files of Steel, Gypsy, Vixen, and Vibe before purging them completely from the Justice League computer. That's probably a good idea, like deleting old joke tweets on Twitter that were a bit racist and also boring. Meanwhile Maxwell Lord IV watches from a distance, doing that Ozymandias thing where you watch dozens of televisions at once. I think it proves you're a genius whose done the research and contemplated all sides of an issue before making up your totally rational and logical mind about any issue. As opposed to us losers who simply use compassion and empathy to almost immediately understand the correct and most ethical path to take. Maxwell Lord IV watches all of this television and decides the correct course to take is to leave the "America" off of the Justice League of America this time. Oh, and also the "of".

Maybe this is why I liked Guy so much: because he knew the saying was "you've got another think coming." Look, I'm going to be desperately finding good reasons to have liked Guy Gardner so much when Giffen and DeMatteis are this determined to make him a huge and unlikable jerk.

Look, I was sixteen! Hardly the best time in a young man's life for qualities like compassion and empathy and fashion sense and hair styles! I'm also fairly certain it wasn't this comic book that made me like him so much. I'm pretty sure he gets knocked out by Batman with one punch before the year is over and I remember loving that scene. So I probably despised him like a good reader of Justice League was supposed to do. Hopefully he'll have some character moments during this series that will show why I wound up liking him so much as a character. Right now, he's just a complete and utter asshole. The five panels following the one I just scanned consist of Guy once again calling Oberon "Sneezy" and then suggesting Black Canary is going to want to fuck him soon enough. Martian Manhunter tries to break it up and just winds up part of the chaos.

Okay, I'm starting to get why I might have liked him at sixteen, even after the first few pages. To a sixteen year old white male, mocking Martian Manhunter with a "Ho-ho-ho" trumps ableism, sexism, and, with this attack on J'onn for his inherent physical Martianness, almost certainly racism as well.

Guy continues to play the role of Squeaky Wheel for another page or two. I suppose if you want more on-panel time than the other heroes, you've got to be a raging asshole. I can't say I'm not entertained by it!

Captain Marvel earns a little of my love with this line as well. No shame in drinking warm milk at night!

This is only nine pages into the first issue and Guy has completely derailed the formation of the new Justice League. Was this blasphemy to previous fans of the Justice League where the team may have had some minor squabbles about various things and Batman would quit every six issues but mostly they didn't break out into brawls whenever they got together? Or were internal struggles and arguments a regular plot point? I have no idea because the only Justice League comics I read previous to this title were the terrible months where everything was breaking down and then Steel betrayed them and Vibe was killed off and Martian Manhunter felt like a huge failure. Although was Aquaman leading the team at the time? I dislike Aquaman so much, I'm just going to believe he was leading the team and that's why everything completely fell apart. He sucks. Once per day, I think about that lousy meme trying to prove Aquaman wasn't useless by using the image from New 52 Justice League where he controls a bunch of great whites to breach and kill a bunch of parademons and I hate everybody who actually thought that was a cool moment. Batman and Doctor Fate arrive in the middle of the Justice League brawl (which even Martian Manhunter, the only adult in the room, is taken part in) and shuts shit down The Batman way.

I guess heroes are also a cowardly lot.

Meanwhile, Doctor Light winds up being held hostage with the rest of the United Nations by some white terrorists. I felt I needed to say they were white because a lot of racist assholes can only envision terrorists one way. Also, I should always describe people as white when they're white since I don't want to be an accomplice to maintaining a world where we assume a person mentioned is white, male, and heterosexual unless they're described more fully. Doctor Light was given a Justice League emergency beeper by a mysterious figure some time previously. This isn't revealed but I just read Justice League Spectacular #1 so I know Maxwell Lord gave her the device so that she could alert the Justice League when the United Nations was taken hostage by terrorists that Maxwell Lord IV paid. It's all about getting some early press! There's an advert for the new Flash which I'm surprised I didn't pick up since the advert shows him having some kind of accident in a sperm bank.

Ew Flash is right!

The Justice League head over to stop the terrorist attack. At some point, Doctor Fate disappears to go do something else and I think he never comes back? Is that why I barely remember him as a part of this league? Was he just there to look cool on the cover and fool all the lovers of DC magic users? The League storms the UN, murdering several terrorists.

Look. Manhunter either phased their heads into the solid ceiling or he smashed their skulls straight through the roof. Either way, I don't see a high percentage chance of their survival.

The Justice League capture all the terrorists and then Batman has the building evacuated, leaving just the leader of the terrorists alone in the United Nations building threatening to kill himself so that the bomb attached to his heart would detonate and kill them all. He does kill himself but the bomb doesn't detonate. And the thing is, Batman realized during the mission that the bomb was almost certainly a bluff. So he left the man alone to kill himself. Later we discover the man had a history of mental illness. So this, to Batman, is justice? Batman almost certainly realized the man was being manipulated and that he'd definitely kill himself to blow the bomb and Batman let the man do it. Batman is a fucking monster. After the event, the media points out that the terrorists were mostly composed of 60s radical groups like the Weathermen and the Black Panthers. Which is odd because there wasn't one black terrorist in the bunch. The issue ends with Max Lord talking to himself and admitting to being the one who staged the terrorist attack. He also knew the leader was unstable enough to kill himself for the cause and he sent him in with a bomb that definitely wouldn't blow. So he's a fucking monster as well. And Martian Manhunter is a monster, not because he's a weirdo martian, but because he basically popped the heads on a few of the terrorists. No way will I believe those guys hanging from the ceiling by their necks survived! All in all, Guy Gardner is starting to look like a rational member of this group! Justice League #1 Rating: B+. A better than average start to the new Justice League, building some intrigue and conflict right from the start. Who is Max Lord? What are his plans for the Justice League? Why is he acting like it's his group? Will Doctor Fate ever return? Will Oberon poison Guy Gardner? Will Black Canary and Doctor Light become best friends because they're the only women in the League? Will Guy Gardner and Batman ever come to blows? I can answer that! They will not! They'll just come to blow. One punch by Batman. And that one punch causes some severe psychological trauma to Gardner and nobody thinks he should get medical help simply because he starts acting nicer. They're all fucking monsters!

[911firefox]

This is gonna be short as I'm have a bad hand day both pain and spasm wise.

My friend @outrunningthedark gets accused of such bullshit mainly from anons because she points out ableism. And she does so from all characters, we've discussed things about Eddie, Buck and even Pepa but when she criticises to two pretty girls she gets called a misogynist, accused of hating white girls or being racist to Latinas etc. Which is ridiculous because she comments on every moment of ableism, its not her fault that Shannon and Anna are the most ableist and the only ones who didn't learn/show no signs of learning or being corrected.

And the newest accusation is of gatekeeping and refusing to let anyone else comment or learn. Which just shows that they don't know her.

I am disabled and I do not have CP. I talk about my own disabilities regularly and sometimes I relate what I can to the topic I'm discussing but generally I stick to facts. Mostly things I learned when I started being a wheelchair user and know that I never knew before and people will hopefully find interesting or angering (like the lack of marriage equality). And I know I sure as hell didn't recognise ableism that much before I regularly became a victim of it.

My point is, I have a different viewpoint to her and whilst we often vibe with each other, we don't agree 100% because no 2 people do. We don't freak out or try to forcibly change the others opinion though. Gatekeeping? Please, she has been one of the most open and supportive people in their fandom.

My point is, these anons do not know the sweet person I know who made me feel at home in the fandom and sends messages of support to get me through the bad pain days etc. And they don't want to know her because they've made her a bogeyman already which is really bloody sad because she's a damn good friend to have.

Wow, managed a lot more typing than expected, I think the tramadol is helping.

Any typos are the spasm hands though, that's just the reality of my life.

I just wanted to share this, not to blow smoke up my friend's ass but in case you haven't interacted with her and have only heard from a friend of a friend because of these anons some of the shit being said that is categorically not true and in many cases accusing her of things she's not said or been saying the opposite of.

I got bullied throughout school and know how it feels to have lies spread so I guess I just don't like seeing it happen now.

[homosociallyyours]

@velvet-impala tagged me to answer this long set of questions, and bc I love this sort of thing I’m DOING IT! I’ll tag folks here just in case you don’t want to read thru this whole dang thing. But I wanna say: if you want to do this, PLEASE DO IT and tag me so I can see-- I *love* reading responses to stuff like this. But @la-paritalienne @disgruntledkittenface @and-id-marry-larry @calmrry @crinkle-eyed-boo @lightwoodsmagic -- y’all are tagged :) 

1. Do you prefer writing with a black pen or blue pen? black, but what matters most is how smoothly it writes.

2. Would you prefer to live in the country or city? walkable neighborhood in a city. 3. If you could learn a new skill what would it be? would love to learn how to hack into billionaire bank accounts without getting caught so i could redistribute their wealth to a variety of mutual aid funds. :)  4. Do you drink your tea/coffee with sugar? no, just milk! unless it’s really shitty/bitter coffee, and then i will take it with a couple sugars or sweetened creamer. 

5. What was your favourite book as a child? probably the Anne of Green Gables books  6. Do you prefer baths or showers? showers! i wanna love a bath, but i get bored too fast and i never feel comfortable (where do i put my head? my feet? what do i do when my belly isn’t covered by the water and it gets cold?) so they’re meh. 

7. If you could be a mythical creature, which one would it be? dryad! i wanna be a tree spirit!

8. Paper or electronic books? paper, i guess. but i do love reading fic electronically, so..

9. What is your favourite item of clothing? used to be my work hoodie. but now i would say this blue striped button down i have OR this one black dress i have with 3/4 sleeves that’s really soft and comfy. 

10. Do you like your name or would you like to change it? i always meant to start going by Dottie when I got older, but it hasn’t happened yet so it probably won’t by now? but i would never change my name generally speaking. 

more after the cut! 

  11. Who is a mentor to you? i had a co-worker who was really a mentor for me since i got into being a cheesemonger in 2008. he’s been in the industry for a long time and basically recruited me to the job i have/had here. but when i got sick he basically dropped me/hasn’t spoken to me in a long time. let me tell you: it fucking sucks. bc a mentor is a cross between a friend and a colleague and a relative; we jokingly called him my lesbian uncle. and so losing him from my life so completely over something like this is deeply shitty. 

12. Would you like to be famous and if so, what for?  not now, but before i was sick i would’ve said yes. BUT only bc i think i would be a great Saturday Night Live host (not a cast member! just a one time host with a monologue/skits). So whatever level of fame i needed to get that..

13. Are you a restless sleeper? I have really bad insomnia that means i take at least an hour to fall asleep most nights. Once I’m out, I usually sleep ok, but i do have intense dreams/nightmares that wake me up sometimes. 

14. Do you consider yourself a romantic person? yeah :/

15. Which element best represents you? earth: the wet dirt and leaves in a forest after rain in particular

16. Who do you want to be closer to? emotionally i’m pretty good i think. physically i wish i could be closer to friends and family in NYC, Seattle area, TN/Atlanta, and Germany

17. Do you miss someone at the moment? the people referenced above. also missing my Grandmomma a lot lately and my mom. 

18. Tell us about an early childhood memory. art lessons with my grandmomma. her set of pastels that were all worn down and the heavy paper (black) that she pulled out to work on. she drew a quick portrait of a man, showing me how to create depth in skin tones with blue and green against the softer flesh tones. she didn’t blend it out, the marks all painterly and strong-- her style. i was 10, maybe? 12? so not *early* but it feels like forever ago. 

19. What is the strangest thing you have eaten? i have no idea? i’ve eaten a lot of weirdish cheeses. i’ve had geoduck? 

20. What are you most thankful for? the amazing friends i’ve gathered into my life along the way, my dad, and my baby dog. 

21. Do you like spicy food? yes, within reason (i don’t get stuff that’s spicy just for the heck of it, like ghost pepper chips or whatever? but when spice is integrated in with other flavors i love it)

22. Have you ever met someone famous? i used to make up stories about meeting famous people that were based on partial truths. i’ve hung out with or met a lot of gay famous people. but the biggest person who comes to mind is Sandra Bernhard. I sold her cheese.  23. Do you do you keep a diary or journal? i have over the years. now i sometimes write things down in a paper journal, but mostly go to a really old blogging site where i basically put all my big feelings down in a public but sorta private spot.  

24. Do you prefer to use a pen or a pencil? depends on my mood.

25. What is your star sign? taurus sun and moon, gemini rising

26. Do you like your cereal soggy or crunchy? in between...not HARD crunchy, but not soft soggy. 

27. What would you want your legacy to be? would like people to remember that i loved them well and made them feel good/happy when i was around them. and hopefully that it made them feel like being good to others too. 

28. Do you like reading, what was the last book you read? i do, but i’m mostly reading fic these days. i think the thing i read last was Pink Like the Paradise Found, which was FANTASTIC!

29. How do you show someone you love them? i tell them, shower them with physical affection, and do little things for them. also try to remember small details about what they enjoy and then do stuff to make them feel good when they’re down

30. Do you like ice in your drinks? yes, but not too much

31. What are you afraid of? sometimes being along but only when it’s very dark out and i’m in the sads. honestly-- this is some deep internalized ableism but here it is --i’m very afraid of never getting better and not being able to take care of myself or anyone else. 

32. What is your favourite scent? jasmine flowers, pu-er tea, the specific scents of people i love

33. Do you address older people by their name or surname? however they’re introduced i guess. maybe because i’m an older person lol

34. If money was not a factor, how would you live your life? i would live in the apartment i had alone (with a guest room). i would hire someone from my community to come help me out sometimes. i would get a weekly grocery delivery from the good quality place. i would have a dog walker. and i would fly home to see my family more than once a year and fly my family out for a visit sometimes. so like. probably the way a lot of ppl live? idk. 

35. Do you prefer swimming in pools or the ocean? ocean

36. What would you do if you found £50 on the ground? get dinner at the thai restaurant down the street a couple times. 

37. Have you ever seen a shooting star? yes, lots! 

38. What is the one thing you would want to teach your children? i’m not having kids BUT for the kids in my life, i try to teach them/model the importance of consent and respect for their own bodies as well as other people’s. and i know it said one thing, but alongside that is that i respect and love them for who they are, and that’s something they get to decide. 

39. If you had to have a tattoo, what would it be and where would you get it? i want a lot of tattoos, but if i could get one tomorrow it would be a cheese themed tattoo with a variety of cheese knives (parm tools, dutch style knife) and a small cheese assortment. or a portrait of my dog

40. What can you hear now? this kinda dumb netflix show that i decided to binge today even tho it’s only kinda meh and my dog snoring just a little. 

41. Where do you feel the safest? when i’m surrounded by friends. 

42. What is the one thing you want to overcome/conquer? my stupid money issues prolly

43. Of you could travel back to any era, what would it be? wanna go back to 1977 and live in the girl direction AU i wrote last year, lol.

44. What is your most used emoji? laugh crying emoji or sobbing maybe

45. Describe yourself using one word. colorful

46. What do you regret the most? not sure if this is a thing but i regret not realizing when i got bitten by a tick/got lyme disease the first time, bc maybe i could’ve just taken antibiotics and killed it, and then maybe i wouldn’t be sick? 

47. Last movie you saw? watched the new charlie’s angels the other night

48. Last tv show you watched? this dumb show is called sweet magnolias, and it’s. honestly not terrible! it’s just not my style of show. OH WAIT i take it back, they left it on a really shitty cliffhanger without warning, and that is the one way to make me drop your show/fic HARD unless i like. genuinely love you. so byeeee dumb show, hope you get cancelled

49. Invent a word and it’s meaning. saungry: sadness brought on by being hungry, like hangry except oops you’re crying now! example: “fuck i knew i should’ve eaten before calling my best friend, now i miss them and i’m too saungry to figure out what to eat! Guess I’ll have tears for dinner” (almost called it sungry, but the internet thinks that might just mean ‘so hungry’)

did you make it to the end? WOW! devotion. thank you. 

[cubeswhump]

Will Not be a Victim for my character, Blondie.

The neglected Blondie. I need to get back to my Powers Verse too. And the immortal bitches. I have a Sweetie and Michelle story drafted though.

Warnings for mentions of violence, referenced torture, bit of ableism. Pretty tame compared to what I usually write.

The phone rang from her nightstand, and again, and again. Then it started pinging with texts: Terry-Ellen has spoken to me but my own daughter won’t answer her phone.

I’ll be arriving at your house at 6PM.

Blondiw growled and dialled the number. The phone rang only twice before the deep voice came on the other line: “Oh, so you’ve decided to stop ignoring me?”

“Fucking hell, Dad. I’m twenty-three,” Blondie reminded him. “Chill.’

"Language, Melinda,” he scolded lightly. “I don’t care of you’re eighty-three. You’re still my daughter and we just got you back. I need to be sure that you’re okay.”

"I'm fine, Dad."

"Are you really?"

Blondie pinched the bridge of her nose. Don't call him a nosy twat, don't call your dad a nosy twat. She breathed out. "You hired a fucking bodyguard for me. "That's humiliating enough, and now you're prying into my life like I'm a child."

"Language. Good lord, you take after your mother," he sighed. "Who are you embarrassed in front of? You haven't left your house in more than two weeks." His voice was so even and annoyingly calm. Blondie swallowed back the snarl crawling up her throat. "Is it really prying to be concerned about my daughter? I just want to know that you're okay. I haven't seen you since-"

"Okay, okay, I'll stop by tomorrow. No need to stop by." She knew her father would have some words if she saw the state her house was in. Tej wasn't hired to clean after the slob, and no one had patched up the hole Blondie punched in the living room.

"Are you sure? If I come over you can stay home and rest," he offered.

"You just got on my ass for staying in my house!"

"You know that is not what happened, Melinda."

"I'll be there at eleven in the morning, okay?"

"I'll expect you by twelve."

Blondie huffed and hung up as he chuckled.

***

Tej was prodding her. "Get up. We've gotta go soon."

Blondie lifted her head abd ahot rhe other wonan a glare. "There's no we. You're staying home."

"You know that's not how it works," she said, unfazed. "I'll make you coffee."

"Don't." Blondie pyr one foot on the floor and grabbed one crutch. The other must have fallen over at some point in the night, and Blondie whacked Tej with the crutch in her hand when the thin woman tried to help her retrieve the fallen one. "Scram, bitch."

"Very nice, " Tej said sarcastically, handing her the crutch anyway. She caught the crutch Blondie swung at her. "Have you ever considered treating the help like people?"

"Go on, call me a bitch. There's nothing in your contract that says you can't insult me, yeah?"

"I'll leave you to get dreased," Tej said dryly. "Your hair looks nice. Did you wash it?"

She shut the door behind her just in time for the television remote to crash into the wood.

Blondie had only worn bath robes and undergarments for the last few weeks and she hadn't gotten to modifying any pants to her new body. Skirts? No, fighting in a skirt wasn't a great idea - if she needed to fight. Fights were always possible.

Shorts. A pair of shorts, one sock, one combat boot. The left bood sat all alone and sad. She kicked it over. Hair in a bun.

"Your coffee, Blondie." Tej shoved the steaming mug right in her face while Blondie was trying to sneak out the front door.

"I told you not to make me coffee," Blondie grumbled.

"Coconut creamer and one Sweet-N-Low," Tej tempted her, voice sing-song.

"I'm getting coffee on the way to my dad's, shithead." And she was out tje door, slamming it behind her - or trying to. Tej caught it just before it closed and slipped out after her.

"Want me to drive? You can relax," Tej offered, reaching for the keyring in Blondie's hand. Blondie jerked it away.

"I'll relax when you're dead. It's my fucking car."

"Cool, cool."

Tej was in the passenger's seat before Blondie had even opened her door so she couldn't even lock her out. Tej smiled at her knowingly. Blondie gripped the steering wheel sp hard her fingers turned white.

Tej tried to make conversation throughout the drive and Blondie turned the volume up a few notches every time she opened her mouth. After a million years, she pulled up in front of the coffee shop.

"I'll get you an iced mocha cappuccino," Blondie said as she got out of the car. Tej was stepping out too.

"Nah, I wanna look at the menu," she replied. Blondie squeezed her eyes shut and clenched her teeth, reciting the "calming phrases" from her counseling sessions as a teenager.

When was this place ever this busy? Blondie sighed as she joined the line, Tej at her side. "You know, you're paying for your own shit."

"That's fair," Tej shrugged. "Your daddy pays me weekly."

Blondie sneered at her.

The line inched forward. A woman and her child joined. Seriously, did the entire fucking town want coffee right now?

"Wow..." the woman said, her voice hushed. "What happened?"

Blondie didn't realize the woman was talking to her until she felt a tap on her shoulder.she turned around, finding the woman's wide eyes on her still-bandaged stump. The little girl stared too, reaching for Blondie's crutch. Blondie jerked it away from her sticky hand and scowled, but neither noticed.

"What happened?" the woman asled again. "Why don't you get a prosthetic leg?"

"I pesteres someone with intrusive questions and she pulled out a machete," Blondie snapped. The woman recoiled.

"Ma'am, you're being very insensitive, and you should teach your child not to touch anyone's mobility aids." Tej launched right into a lecture. "Please treat my friend as you would treat-"

Blondie's temper boiled over. She raised one crutch and bashed it into the woman's knee. Tej's hand clamped over her own mouth as the woman fell over with a screech, dragging her daughter down with her.

"Oops. My bad." Blondie turned her back on the pair.

"Did you see that?" the woman cried as she got back to her feet. The cashier looked over from the customer he was dealing with, frowning.

"I'll be out fast," Blondie promised the cashier. "No trouble."

They walked out with their coffees and gluten-filled breakfast, Blondie's coffee spouting steam that smelled of coconut... Something she could have gotten at home. Tej predictably got a mocha cappuccino.

"I mean," Tej finally said during their resumed drive, mouth full of bagel, "not that I blame you much, but public battery isn't a food luck."

Blondie turned the radio up higher.

The guard let them into the gated, cookie cutter community. Towering houses were identical, painted a cream not a shade lighter or darker than the house nextdoor. Perfect gardens, no blade of grass even a centimeter overgrown. One house had flowers a different shade of pink than the rest. Blondie might have struggled to differentiate the houses if Chase weren't waving frantically at the end of one driveway.

"Melinda, love, how are you?" The large man was coming at her with open arms as she stepped out of the car. She was too slow thinking of an excuse to get out of hugging her stepdad, and he squeezed her tight.

"Peachy," she told him.

He hugged Tej too before letting both women into the house. He was talking a mile a minute and Blondie let Tej handle the conversation.

"I see you brought beverages. No tea then?" he asked. Blondie shook her head. "Oliver's in his study."

"Tell him hi for me," Tej chirped, and Blondie decided she would not do that. She hurried away when the other two started discussing how much they lift at the gym.

115 pounds? Unimpressive, Tej.

She didn't bother knocking on the mahogany door, throwing it right open. "Yo."

Oliver swiveled around in his chair like a James Bond villain. He even looked the part with his coiffed grey hair and serious expression. "Good morning, Melinda. You were almost on time. Have a seat."

"Nice to see you too," Blondie said sarcastically, falling back ontp the plump sofa.

"Oh, no, you're covered in crumbs! Why didn't you brush yourself off outside?"

"Just vacuum later. I had a muffin."

Oliver sighed, turning back to his laptop. "Depending on your recovery time, we'll get you fitted for prosthesis." He flicked through images. Some were very realistic and even matching her skin color, others clunky and robotic, some abstract and hardly resembling a limb. "We should find a design that fits your activity level, preferably a more realistic one. No one has to know. At that point we'll get you to that physical therapist I've been talking to, and-"

"Whoa, hold on a minure. Don't I get a say?" Blondie snapped. "And who said I want a realiatic one? Maybe I don't want to pretend I'm fucking normal."

"Whatever you want, darling. But I'm not going to let you hold yourself back."

"You tell me to take it easy abd slow down and then you get on my ass for being behind the curve. The fuck is that?"

Oliver sighed. He turned back tp his daughter, choosing his next words carefully. "I know how much you enjoy your hobbies. I think it'll be better for your mental health if you get back into dance and martial arts soon."

Back into dance. She was already the largest girl in the studio, dwarfing the tiny instructor even when she was twelve. Skilled as she was, she never had a ballerina's body and her instructor's main complaints were her thundering footsteps and "unladylike gait". Well, at least pointe shoes wouldn't hurt a prosthetic leg.

"It's my body and my life," Blondie reminded him.

"And it's my money that pqid your medical bills," he shot back. She rolled her eyes. "Melinda, you know I just want what's best for you. I want to help you. I need to help you."

"Help yourself first," Blondie snarled. "How's your boytoy?"

"I've been married to Chase since you were eight. Stop calling him my boytoy," Oliver sighed. Any other time, Blondie might have laughed at how annoyed her dad got when she mocked his husband. "And fifteen years isn't such a significant age difference when you're out of your twenties."

"He's a gold-digger."

"He's well worth what he costs, and he loves you like his own daughter. Come on, stop changing the subject. You mean so much to me. You were the victim of such a-"

"I'm not a victim," she hissed, leaning forward in her seat. Her eyes narrowed. "If anyone's a victim, it's that bitch Camilla. You know, queen of the cabbage patch."

Oliver's eyebrows knit together. "Cabbage patch?"

"Because she's a vegetable," Blondie said, and her father sighed heavily.

"I'm not denying that she's a bad person, but you don't need to be discriminatory. Other, much nicer people live with brain damage."

"Dad, shut the fuck up and listen to me," Blondie demanded. "I fought my way out. I'm not a victim!"

"Yes, yes, you're a survivor," he said in a voice like he was placating a toddler.

"No, I'm Melinda fucking Van Doren."

He lifted his glasses to pinch the bridge of his nose. "Before anything, you're my daughter and I want what's best for you."

"I actually know what's best for me because I am me."

"I'm your father. I know you pretty damn well."

"Yeah, okay. I'll keep in tough." Blondie started to stand, but Oliver held a hand up.

"Stay for lunch. Samantha made two extra plates."

It still weirded her out that her father had a cook. Her mother missed having servants after the divorce, but Blondie tried her best to keep her home free of employees. And she got stuck with Tej, the most intrusive Van Doren employee.

Chase brought two plates of chicken parmesan to the damn study.

"Workaholic," he said and rolled his eyes, kissing Oliver on the cheek. Blondie rolled her eyes. "Well, I've been having a lovely chat with Miss Tej while you two have been bonding."

Bonding. Sure.

Blondie stabbed into her chicken. She imagined it was the Queen - no, Camilla - that she was stabbing over and over, making sure she never recovered. Because she wasn't the Queen's victim.

She was Melinda "Blondie" Van Doren. She was a fucking hero and people would know that soon.