#am i sympathizing with alien robots? maybe so. maybe so.

[therese-lokidottir]

The Avengers: Earth Mightiest Heroes series watch

459 written by Joelle Sellner

Ant-Man and Wasp visit Carol Danvers at a deep space observatory to help identify a mysterious object picked up by the telescope. They are introduced to scientist Phillip Lawson. They find that the object changes direction and heads straight for the observatory, the trio must act fast to stop it.

While Carol and Wasp drive to the crash site, Carol warns Jan that continuing to play these jealousy games will ruin their relationship but there is no time for debate as they are set upon by an invisible attacker that shoots green bolts of energy. Wasp shoots into the forest while Ant-Man calls ants to reveal an invisible alien robot heading for the observatory.

Carol goes to evacuate the staff, while Ant-Man and Wasp fight the robot, and Ant-Man gets thrown through the skylight. During the fight, Ant-Man causes an explosion that hits Carol and Lawson. Lawson protects Carol with a green energy dome that reveals his true form as a Kree captain named Mar-Vell. The robot destroys the observatory, but everyone escapes the explosion.

Carol has been taken to the hospital and the Avengers have gathered to discuss the situation. Mar-Vell reveals his true identity and mission; he is a member of the Kree empire who is in a war with the Skrulls, an alien race. Both sides view Earth as a crucial battleground. The robot that attacked them was a Kree Sentry designed to eliminate any perceived threats from Earth's native population. If the Sentry deems a threat too significant for it to handle alone, it's equipped with a Nega-Bomb that can annihilate all life on the planet. Mar-Vell agrees to help the Avengers stop the Sentry believing humanity deserves to survive.

The Avengers try to deactivate the armed Nega-Bomb. Opening up the robot proves to be a difficult task. Wasp and Ant-Man start an argument Just then a whole bunch of projectiles head straight for Wasp and Ant-Man takes the blows for her. Ant-Man takes a blow for Wasp and becomes seriously injured. Jan tears apart the Sentry from the inside and gives Hulk the opening he needs to open the Sentry's chest.

The deactivation of the robot prompts a transmission from Mar-Vell's superior officer Yon-Rogg. Yon-Rogg accuses Mar-Vell of sympathizing with humans and reveals that the invasion will proceed with or without him.

The bomb is about to explode. Mar-Vell flies it up to space to keep Earth safe, but he freezes in the atmosphere. Iron Man catches Mar-Vell and saves him while Thor further launches the bomb into space before it explodes.

Mar-Vell departs, offering sincere apologies and a commitment to advocate as much as possible for humanity's survival in front of the Kree government. Hank and Jan realize that they have feelings for each other. Carol wakes up to discover that she is glowing and hovering several feet above her bed.

So, to be brutally honest I fond Mar-Vell a boring character that left almost no impression. He just felt like a character to set up for the skrull kree war and Miss Marvel. It doesn't help that his big heroic sacrifice is undercut by Iron Man and Thor being the ones to actually save the day. Maybe it was to show he cares, but he was already helping and again to see Iron Man and Thor imminently fly up in space after him and be the ones to get ride of the bombs make it seem a little sad. Like, Well you best, buddy.

The main focus on this episode is mostly on Janet and Hank and it has both what I really like about the character and what I really do not like about romantic plots. I am really not into will the or won't inability to express one thoughts and feelings. For Janet it makes me question why she's even into Hank in the first place. But again it still does have what I like about the characters. Janet's conference in being a super-hero and Hank always being like Science, yeah!☺ It's fun

I really wish Carol had more to do. She was shown to be friendly and proactive. Then she's gets knocked out half way through the episode and she won't show up again until season 2. Her and Janet are already friends before the episode start. I want to know more about that and less boring Mar-Vell.

All around it was an alright episode.

[hinasho]

ya know lost in space is just a simple little show not meant to be taken too seriously, but the writing behind the robots got me like ???? just bc they don’t really seem like?? villains to me??? i’m still only on 3x06 so i haven’t seen the last two episodes, but everything surrounding the robots has seem justified. but the way the humans react is like they’re thinking the robots are the ones in the wrong.

so i got that scarecrow wasn’t first contact, it was a robot and an unconscious grant kelly. but the robots didn’t hurt grant kelly and only sent one of their own - scarecrow - to go curiously investigate earth. then the humans not only tore apart his ship but then maimed and tortured scarecrow to force him to serve them.

then the robots attacked the resolute which yes was probably scary, BUT it’s not like they weren’t justified? based on scarecrow’s disappearance and the theft, humans must seem fucked up. now i’m not saying i approve mass murder, but the humans were the first ones in the wrong here and then tried to frame the robots’ attack like it was unprovoked when it wasn’t

and then afterwards the humans just kept treating the robots terribly whether they were on their side or not. they almost cooked scarecrow, they started torturing robot, and etc.

and now i’m on the part where sar and will are communicating and will was like “omg how could you??” when sar confessed that he killed the robots’ original creators bc he was sick of being controlled, and the reason why he’s been after will this whole time is bc it looks like will has become a new master over robot. and like yeah! after getting rid of one group of beings able to manipulate and rewrite you to obey their orders, i can totally understand the concern! and will explained emotions terribly so much so that it really did sound like he reprogrammed robot to do what he wanted oh my god but he’s just a teen so i can’t blame him too much but bro?? what?? and rn i’m not even mad at sar for going at him bc, in his perspective, will is the start of a new generation of masters.

like the writing behind the alien robot storyline is just so funky. not to mention that will and the others keep going “you don’t have to follow your programming <3” but they say it like the robots were programmed to be evil or smthg when actually the humans have no idea WHAT the robots were originally programmed to act like since they’ve had to be on the defense from the humans the entire time.

honestly it seems like the humans just keep misunderstanding the robots and acting on fear based on their appearance. like i get 7 foot creatures with 4 arms and lava hands can be alarming to say the least, but then they just went and assumed they MUST be villainous and only The Human Touch of Kindness™️ can change them for good when really if you just didn’t kidnap them, torture them, steal from them, and etc. i think they’d likely be just fine.

[rainforestgeek]

If you lose your strength to stand (I’m gonna reach for your hand) part 6

And here is chapter six!

AO3 link

Keith recognized her instantly. One of Lotor’s old generals, the blue one with big eyes. He wracked his brain for her name – Acxa. She slipped her way through the fringes of the crowd, nearly invisible if it weren’t that she was the only person in the city not socializing and celebrating. Something Keith could relate to on principle, but the last time he’d seen her she was working for Haggar – who was with Sendak. Never mind that she’d saved his life that night.

He reported this to Selick. The agent’s gravelly voice responded. “What is her position?”

“A couple hundred meters south of the City Palace. It looks like she’s making her way there.” Keith slunk in the shadows parallel to her path, trying to pass and cut her off. Selick told him to keep his eyes on her. He checked with the border patrol for their status.

“It’s been inactive,” Nox reported. “Do you want us in the city for backup?”

“No. The general may be attempting to draw us to her and leave the boundaries unguarded.”

Keith kept pace with Acxa. Her path began to veer closer to his own. He quietly told the others, “Lotor’s old generals have been working with the druid witch, so keep your eyes peeled for robeasts.” That was when he saw his chance: a narrow but open split in the crowd straight toward his target a few meters away. It was a noisy area and the opening was in her blind spot. He swiftly closed the distance, grabbed her arm and locked it behind her back, and slipped his dagger against her unarmored waist.

After training with the Blades for a long time, Keith learned all the major weak spots on galran bodies (including, apparently, his own, which clarified his dad’s old war with the medical establishment). His blade was pressed against a major artery running down her right side. If he slashed or stabbed that spot, she’d bleed out in less than a dobosh. It was a pretty dumb weakness, but like many bipedal species galra often left their torsos minimally protected to avoid restricted agility in battle.

Acxa twitched, as though about to defend herself but stopped. Smart. Keith could kill her before she’d be able to do anything with her free arm. Trying to be as discreet as possible, Keith pushed her forward and hid them behind a monumental, silvery pillar framing the City Palace’s front steps. It seems he intercepted her just in time. He pinned her against the metal.

“Where’s Haggar?” Keith growled.”

She looked at him coolly. “Why should I tell you that?”

“Because she’s a demented witch who tortures and experiments on people.”

“Not much of an answer. Besides – ” her tone was frustratingly nonchalant “ – you won’t be able to stop Haggar, no matter what I do or do not tell you.”

“We’ll see about that.” Keith summoned a pair of alien handcuffs and secured Acxa’s wrists behind her back. “Selick, I have the general I was following captured. We’re just outside the palace. Keep watch for the red one and the big one.”

“I have eyes on the latter,” replied Kivva. “She’s close to your position, Keith.”

“Do NOT engage the other general, Keith – I can hear you thinking it.” Keith rolled his eyes. “Get out of there, we’ll take care of her.”

“Yes, sir.” He turned Acxa around and pushed her toward the Blades’ rendezvous point. Unfortunately that split second with his knife pulled away was all she needed.

Keith hit the ground hard, vision spinning. Somehow she’d swept his legs out from under him with one foot. She shoved her boot against his neck, cutting off most of his air supply. A brief image flashed through his mind, of a similar but much more playful position he’d been in just a day ago. He saw light brown eyes instead of yellow and blue.

What the fuck. Chalking it up to oxygen deprivation, Keith shoved aside the memory of Matt’s smirking face. He summoned his sword. The slash at Acxa’s abdomen barely grazed her,but only because she jumped off him and out of range. Keith gasped for air, stumbled to his feet, and attacked.

It was easily his most goddamn frustrating fight to date. The ex-general was unarmed and both her hands were restrained, but she still evaded each of his attacks fluidly. And holy crap, she knew how to kick an enemy where it counted.

A deep voice bellowed out, “ACXA!” That same second Keith heard the distinct sounds of laser fire start up. The burly general with huge ears charged toward them, dodging the snipers trained on her. In his moment of distraction, Acxa rammed Keith with her heavily armored shoulder and knocked him off balance. She spun and snatched her gun out of his holster.

The newcomer – what was her name again? – slashed Acxa’s bonds and promptly got shot in the leg for pausing her evasive maneuvers.

Acxa trained her weapon on Keith. “Zethrid, call it in,” she ordered. Zethrid was yelling and dodging fire, looking way passed annoyed. The hit had barely slowed her down.

On impulse Keith lowered his mask. He and Acxa stood in a frozen standoff for several moments. She was too far away for him to attack with his sword and she had a short-range energy pistol aimed and ready. Whether he charged her or not, his chances of getting shot looked much higher than getting to stab her.

A shadow passed over them with a great whooshing noise. A dark, slightly beat up spacecraft hovered over them with the cargo doors open and a ladder hanging down. Once Zethrid had leapt on board, it moved closer to Keith and Acxa and she grabbed hold of the ladder, eyes and gun staying trained on his face. He watched, frustrated and helpless, as they sped away, vanishing into the atmosphere in a matter of ticks.

--

Lance’s good mood began to sour at the sound of Shiro’s voice in his ear like a cold wind. “Paladins, get back to the surface. Now.” The Black Paladin sounded tight and on edge. Shiro never used to make Lance feel nervous, except in fanboyish excitement. Nowadays, unless he was in a particularly good mood, Lance tensed in anticipation every time Shiro talked to him. And he sure as hell did not sound like he was in a good mood.

“We’re coming. Did something happen? The festival and feast shouldn’t be over for another – ”

“Lance. Just get down here. You, Hunk, and Pidge meet us on the bridge.” Shiro’s comm cut out with a sense of finality.

Lance looked over towards the Yellow Lion. “That was weird, right?”

Hunk responded, “I guess something got past us?”

“Well that is what Keith was for. Let’s go see if he did his job.”

They blasted toward the planet, ducking and dodging through the debris field the fight had left behind. Lance couldn’t help but grin at the sight of enemy ships blasted into shrapnel. They’d dealt a major blow against the rogue galra today.

Mostly thanks to Pidge. He and Hunk covered her back while she snuck aboard, but let’s be honest: taking down that battleship was all her. It was crippled and dead in space, completely the handiwork of one tiny girl with a huge brain.

Lance soared into the atmosphere and flipped open a channel to Pidge.

“Hey Pidge, just making sure you heard Shiro say get to the bridge.”

The channel was silent. Like, completely silent. Frowning, Lance double-checked the connection. Yep, that was definitely Green. Maybe she’d turned off her helmet? Lance hit the button that makes a light flash inside the other lions’ cockpits to signal a they were trying to be contacted.

“Pidge? Where are you, are you okay?” She still didn’t respond. Hunk tried to get her with the same result.

Oh, god. What if she got really hurt? That blast was pretty huge. But she sounded fine! Okay, she sounded rattled, but –

Panic setting in, Lance repeatedly smashed the light signal, trying hard to get her attention. Hunk kept calling her name. Lance told him to shut up, listened intently, hardly seeing what was in front of him. And he heard nothing. Not even the sound of her breaths.

Lance landed Red roughly in her hangar, hitting the floor too fast and too hard, making her grumble at him. But behind her irritation she sympathized with his fear. He leapt out of her mouth before she’d even finished lowering her jaw and hit the ground running. Nothing but his heart pounded harder than his feet as he sprinted to the Green Lion’s hangar.

Hunk rattled away in his ears, “Oh god, she’s still not answering! Maybe her helmet’s damaged? Maybe she just disconnected? Did something happen to her, Lance! Is Pidge okay?!”

“How the fuck am I supposed to know that, Hunk?” Lance snapped. Hunk went quiet. Lance skidded to a stop in front of Green, who towered regally over him.

“Pidge!” Lance shouted. “PIDGE!”

For several heart-stopping moments, nothing happened. Just Lance sweating and heaving and staring at a giant, motionless robot with the sound of blood rushing in his ears. He tore off his helmet and threw it to the side in frustration. Hot tears forced their way out of his eyes. “Come on! Let me in!”

His plea must’ve done something, because Green flickered to life and finally lowered her head to grant him entrance. Lance gratefully sprinted into the dark cockpit and nearly crashed into the pilot’s seat – where a small figure sat still and slumped over. Like a doll with the strings cut. Lance carefully removed Pidge’s helmet and took her face in his hands, inspecting her carefully. No visible injuries, but her skin was unnaturally pale and clammy. Her thick bangs clung to her sweaty forehead. He pressed his fingers under her jaw, where he was relieved to feel a warm, steady heartbeat throbbing in her neck.

Lance gathered Pidge into his arms and carried her out into the hangar, where Hunk stood in the doorway with eyes the size of plates.

“She’s alive,” Lance rushed to tell him, “but knocked out. And I…I don’t…” Lance looked helplessly at the Green Paladin’s limp body. Out here in the light, he could really see how scorched, scratched, battered, and even dented her armor was. She may not have been gushing blood, but that didn’t mean she was safe.

Hunk looked her over when they reached him. “God knows what kind of internal injuries she’s got. Let’s get her to the med bay.” Hunk moved to take her, but Lance held her closer to his chest and started walking. He distantly heard Hunk radio Coran.

Lance tried his damnedest to get there quickly without jostling Pidge too much. He didn’t want to make her injuries worse, but he also couldn’t risk taking too long to get her in a healing pod. What if she was bleeding internally? What if she bled out before they got there? What if she’d hit her head and he couldn’t tell under all that fluffy brown hair and she had brain damage –

Oh my god, shut up, Lance told his melodramatic brain, and tried to stop thinking. Pidge’s cheek was pressed against his shoulder. The armor fogged slightly where her breaths brushed against it. If she didn’t look so sick, he’d think she were just sleeping.

Coran had to all but pry her out of Lance’s arms. While the old Altean medic eased her out of her battered armor and into a white medical bodysuit, Lance paced around the room trying (and failing) not to worry. He felt like his very blood vessels were shaking with fear. He couldn’t even relax once Pidge was safe and suspended in the healing pod. He leaned over Coran’s shoulder and craned his neck to get a good look at the monitor with Pidge’s readings – never mind that the Altean runes may as well have been Japanese for all that Lance could understand it.

“Is she gonna be okay? These things can heal anything right? Right? She didn’t sound hurt when she got out, but oh god we should have made sure – what’s that red flashing? What does it mean?”

“Whoa, calm down, number Three.” Coran didn’t bother pushing Lance off of him. “Pidge is going to be fine.”

Hunk dropped his head onto Lance’s shoulder and sagged against him with a relieved sigh.

Coran continued, “She got herself quite a lot of bruises, a few fractures, a little internal bleeding…but that appears to have clotted nicely already. From what I can tell, she fell asleep from sheer exhaustion from the battle. Her sympathetic nervous system took quite a lot out of her today..”

Lance almost cried. The tension fled from his muscles and left him ready to collapse. Which, under Hunk’s considerable body weight, he did, and both paladins ended up sprawled on the floor. Lance’s heartbeat finally slowed to something reasonable.

Behind them the medical bay doors hissed open. Frantic footsteps echoed into the room and Matt Holt skidded into view. He didn’t spare a glance for the other men in the room, just glued himself to the glass of Pidge’s healing pod. A familiar figure with dark, messy hair and black armor followed more slowly. He approached Matt and hesitantly squeezed his shoulder.

“KEITH!” A stressed and jumpy Hunk sprang upright and swept Keith into a tight hug. Maybe because he himself was emotionally strung-out, Lance burst int hysterical laughter at the expression on Keith’s face, which was smushed against Hunks chest plate.

Matt turned to them and glared. “Anyone care to tell me what happened to my little sister?”

Lance coughed and sobered. His voice stopped working.

Hunk saved him from trying to answer. “She snuck aboard Sendak’s frigate, blew it up, got back to the Castle, and passed out from over-exertion. The blast beat her up, but don’t worry!” Hunk added quickly. “It wasn’t anything too major. She’ll be good as new by…when’s Pidge getting out, Coran?”

Coran stroked his ginger moustache as he examined Pidge’s readings. “Oh, should be around tomorrow morning. But with a metabolism as fast as Number Five’s it may well be sooner.”

Matt reattached himself to the glass, gazing wide-eyed at Pidge’s sleeping face. “My little sister is such a fucking badass,” he announced in an awe-struck voice.

Well, that answers the question of where Pidge gets her sailor mouth, Lance thought. His older siblings had washed his tongue with soap for saying less. A throaty chuckle from his left distracted him, and he whipped his head around to see Keith smiling at Matt. His eyes crinkled around the corners and his cheeks were slightly pink. His expression was so soft that Lance barely recognized him.

“Hey, Keith.”

“Yeah?”

Lance paused. “What happened down here that made Shiro call us back so urgently?”

The pleasant look on Keith’s face darkened. “You were right about needing ground support. Lotor’s old generals were in the crowd. Two of them got away after we stopped them from blowing up the City Palace. Lotor captured the third trying to assassinate Allura.”

[craetiveusernamehahaha]

Happy Endings

I have a habit of forcing psychopathic characters into traditional happy endings although it is almost impossible for them to have that in real life. No matter how much I do research on the source and psychopathy, my hands derail when I write and the character end up experiencing empathy and love. I think this fiction middle ground is me telling myself that if a character that had committed countless atrocities deserve a happy ending, someone like me, who have committed a little less, also deserve a happy ending.

I root for pathetic characters who are so small and so in denial about their position. Normal, happy people feel alien to me and I am sick of wondering about how they do it every time. People who are immature, disastrous and drive people away are my jam and I wish them the best. If they get a happy ending, I have hope for myself. If they get what was coming for them, I see myself in that and quietly sympathize.

Today, I realize that I maybe permanently damaged. My only friend in this place is sharing her vulnerabilities and all I feel is the clock ticking quietly behind my back. I could have connected, but inside, I feel my baggage is too large to be shared. I can’t even accuse my mother her crimes, how can I divulge to a casual friend the experience of repeatedly moving during adolescence? So I try to keep her with my perfection, and watch as the flaws leak out on its own accord anyway. I’m aware that if I don’t tell her anything, she will misunderstand and leave, just like the few friends I tried to make before her. 

I hate living like this, only showing pieces of myself that I think will help me fit in when I don’t even know shit about this country. My writing is robotic, I don’t speak because I’m afraid of sounding robotic and the fact that I’m not participating in this life at all make me feel so out of place. Additionally, I haven’t let go of thinking in this language and I still do not give myself the permission to get attached in case I leave again. 

The other day, I tell my friend that I’ll move to her city in a few years because I know I won’t make any more friends. I’m settling in with the fact that I won’t get a traditional happy ending, yet I cling to the concept of it like a lifeline. Perhaps when it finally break, I’ll realize that I’m destined to a bleak, lonely life, robbed of my own choice ages ago.

[legit-writing-tips]

Legit Tip #191

or - “The Problem of False Equivalence (and How to Avoid It)”

Imagine this problem. Well-minded writer decides they want to explore an issue such as homophobia, or sexism, or racism. 

But hey! Here’s a thought! Let’s show how bad it is by turning the tables! What if the world were sexist against men! What if it were straight couples who were discriminated against?

This used to be a common trope in fantasy and science fiction but, fortunately, most writers know this is wrong (unless they are very naive or very young). 

The issue here goes beyond it just being insensitive (which it is.) It’s also that you can’t divorce the issues from the social contexts surrounding them. The societal implications of OMG! A WORLD THAT DISCRIMINATES AGAINST MEN! are a lot different than the real world implications of modern day sexism, and the way that they have developed over time (and still affect people today.)

For example, let’s say you do decide to write a story where men are sexually discriminated against. (For the purposes of this hypothetical, I am assuming the mystery writer in question is focusing on cis men.) In this world men are paid less and are the subject of the female gaze. Interesting. 

But there are other things you can’t replicate, like the issue of reproductive rights. That ISN’T to say that you can’t address issues that men do face in society today, such as their rights as fathers (i.e. what right does a man have if a woman gets pregnant and doesn’t want that child to interact with him). In your story, men could have very little agency when it comes to their rights as fathers. 

This is still a FALSE EQUIVALENCE. And, again - you can recreate the “male gaze” and call it the “female gaze” in your novel. You can have your male characters deal with sexual harassment. But...you’re divorcing that from reality. So what does it really mean to readers?

“But Legit!” I hear someone say. “That’s the point! If a male/straight/cis/Christian reader sees a male/straight/cis/Christian character they can identify with dealing with these issues, aren’t they more likely to see the problem of sexism/homophobia/transphobia/Islamophobia?”

All right. Please. I’m going to have to ask you to sit down while I explain something to you. You do NOT NEED a privileged character to explore a minority issue. 

In fact, all this does is erase the stories of marginalized peoples and make it seem like they’re not worth telling, and that it’s too difficult for people of privilege to “relate” to a woman/gay person/trans person/Muslim.

These two things are fundamentally untrue. The stories of marginalized people are always worth telling, whether they are your main characters or your side characters, which is why I do and always will encourage diversity in every form of storytelling. 

False Equivalence in Fantasy and Science Fiction Settings

NOW. This brings me on to a second problem that is a lot more subtle in nature, and one that often incurs quite a bit of debate when it’s brought up. That is, using fantasy creatures/aliens/robots/etc. as stand-ins for marginalized peoples and/or people of privilege to discuss the power struggles that exist in modern day society. 

This happens a lot - A LOT - with people who want to tell Racism Lite stories. 

“I want to discuss racism, but that’s a bit much for a lot of readers, so I’ll just have a fantasy race/alien in my story that = Brown People.” (*Note: Even worse if the humans are the marginalized people and you’re going, once again, for How would you feel if you were the marginalized one?)

NOW. I’m not saying that there is never a case where you can and should write racial/societal conflict into your stories. The problem here occurs when you pull problems directly from this world and transplant them into fantasy/sci-fi worlds without a second thought.

So think - Why would racial conflict exist between these races in your fantasy world? If you want to explore the issue of racism in your story, do your research. Study the real historical contexts of racism in the world that we live in - and Not Just In The West! - and use that to influence your worldbuilding. 

A Final, Very Important Note - For Everyone

It is important to remember that a great many marginalized writers use fantasy and science fiction to explore issues of racism, homophobia, transphobia, etc., for their sake as well as for the sakes of their readers. 

This is by no means an attack on these writers, though I do hope that I can encourage these writers to start thinking more objectively about the ways that they use these things in their story. 

Why? Because I don’t want readers to get a “free pass” when it comes to reading about these issues of horrible social injustice. 

As much as I love Harry Potter, how many people do you really think learned about how bad it is to be racist or classist because Draco Malfoy was rude to muggleborns and called them dirty words, or because Voldemort targeted muggleborns? Hermione was the privileged white child of dentists (white according to most sources). 

The False Equivalence of Hermione being a “Mudblood” and this being an instance of discrimination in the HP universe is a problem because - well - it’s pretty goddamn generic, and as such everyone and no one really identifies with it. A lot of people know what it’s like to feel excluded, or to feel like you’re the new person (in her case the new person in an entirely new society). 

But divorced from any societal context, her being a “Mudblood” teaches us absolutely nothing. It’s hard to really feel much for her struggle. It’s hard to connect Hermione to Lily Potter, who was also a Mudblood and would have dealt with the same issues. Why? 

Because there isn’t really a universal truth for her as a marginalized person other than, “Yeah, it sucks people treat you that way. They’re dicks.” We don’t know anything about the daily pressures muggleborns face. We don’t know anything about prejudices there are in wizarding society against muggleborns. 

Fixing the Problem

Had the issue been explored independently of just trying to falsely equate real world discrimination to Wizard World Discrimination, Rowling could have done so much more. She could have looked at the way that discrimination develops, and changes over the time, and the way that it exists even in modern and progressive societies. 

I think it would have done even more for Hermione’s character to show her actually struggling with discrimination for being a muggleborn, especially given the fact that she’s such a perfectionist and that she’s so driven to succeed. (It might even have explained her strong desire to succeed, rather than just a blunt, no-nonsense characterization of “She’s a workaholic.”)

And I think that this would have done a lot more for marginalized readers of Harry Potter. Because even if it’s not the brand of discrimination that they’ve dealt with, it’s still something that they can identify, and sympathize with. 

As for privileged readers? Maybe they can learn something REAL about the way society treats marginalized people, instead of coming to yet another conclusion of, “Yeah, some people are assholes to Character A because they’re *Insert Trait*.”

Final Thought

I don’t want to discourage anybody from writing about social issues - though you shouldn’t feel like you need them in your stories, either if you just don’t want to write about it. (Some gay writers may not want homophobia in their fantasy worlds and you know what? That’s perfectly fine.) Fantasy novels where homophobia doesn’t exist and kings sit the throne with prince consorts can happily coexist on shelves alongside science fiction novels where homophobia is explored in-depth using sexy lesbian reptilian girlfriends.

Those who do choose to write about social issues do need to remember that it takes a lot of research, a lot of worldbuilding (especially in science fiction and fantasy) and a lot of exploration for characters who have been marginalized to ensure that they are responding appropriately to the situations that you are putting them into. 

With that being said, good luck with your stories! Embrace diversity as always, and send me those writing questions!

If you like me and want to support what I do, consider buying me a cup of coffee!

https://ko-fi.com/A84614D4

[fluasch]

#ChooseYourPuzzle - Writing challenge by @your-highnessmarvel

Prompt: Bruce banner on a front lawn right after the rain, “when I was young...”

Warnings: lil bit of Angst, smoking?

A/N: Okey so first of all I procrastinated posting this like hell because I didn’t properly write in like a year so excuse my rusty writings. Also this doesn’t fit in the canon. ALSO I’m sorry I’m late!

Do you have what it takes?

You’ve been a colleague, maybe even a friend of Natasha Romanoff. You worked together before her time with Shield and she kept you close afterwards. It wasn't like you were that important in this game of heroes and villains, gods and demons. You were just a small fish in this big pond, a mere associate of associates.

For that reason you never understood why Natasha didn't ditch you.

Obtaining risky information was your work field and made your skills more valuable than yourself. Despite that you kept your head down, only working on smaller jobs, changing location after every paycheck. Some would call that paranoid but for you, it was a simple necessity. Even little jobs required an awful lot of work-most of it wasn't exactly legal. You looked innocent though, and that was luck enough to be successful.

When Natasha called you, you were, quite frankly, surprised and more important, anxious. She never reached out for contact after Shield has been compromised by Hydra. At that time Natasha knew something was up, and she asked you if you could dig trough some files, ask around to find out if the feeling in her gut was right.

It usually was.

You personally weren’t interested if Shield fell and Hydra would rise. Both sides paid well and you weren't someone with a moral code other than to not have unfinished business.

But Natasha was somewhat a friend of you and while you weren’t the most friendly criminal on Earth you deemed yourself quite loyal.

Loyalty is always hard to find and it had opened many doors for you. People trusted you and it's easy to backstab trusting people. You wouldn't dare to backstab the Black Widow though.

When Natasha called you, she asked you to do something for her. She didnt exactly tell you what. So logically it was something you wouldn't agree on it just like that.

Still, you were curious why she called you just now.

The avengers were hunting down the last remains of Hydra and Natasha suspected you knew where high ranked agents hid, what their next moves were. you didn't knew a damn thing. People knew your connections reached far. And that, with you, sometimes informations traveled from one side to another and back.

You agreed to meet up with her and discuss just what exactly Natasha could possibly want from you.

On 4pm sharp a black car parked in front of the hotel you were currently staying in. You were already waiting outside, umbrella in one hand and with the other you tried to keep your skirt from flashing people. It had been raining in NYC for nearly a week now, and Spring was nowhere in sight.

A man stepped out of the car and introduced himself as Agent Davis. Agent Davis was a tall, broad, tanned man. Blond hair, blue eyes, he could work as a Hilfiger model. Why would a man like him work as an Agent? Was it that well paid? It must have been like that because you couldn't imagine another reason to risk his life for one of the most problematic group of people in this century.

Yes, of cause they saved the world from aliens, from robots, from downright evil people and a whole lot other problems. But, and thats where the Avengers started to get problematic for a lot of people, those problems mostly existed because of them. If there were no shield, there wound't have been a half god come to Earth trough a portal to conquer it with an army of aliens. Wound't it have been for the Avengers Sokovia wouldn't have been ripped apart by a 8ft tall Robot. Just to name a few hero-made problems. So there couldn’t possibly another reason than a whole lot of money to put a target on ones head.

On the ride to the meeting point you weighted out pros and cons to ask Agent Davis why he would work for the Avengers.

The cons outweighed the pros. You wouldn't start a conversation with two Agents mostly for the reason to maintain as anonymous as possible, but probably also because your mind was to occupied with guesses of what could have possibly moved Natasha to contact you.

When, after an one hour long drive, the car made its way up to the Avengers HQ compound, you were sure it was something serious. Way too serious for your liking.

The compound rested on top of a hill outside New York City, it was white and if the sun would hit just right, you could make it out when you were in downtown Manhattan. It was like a sleeping giant, packed with heroes, weapons and secrets and the thought of stepping into this monstrosity made your stomach turn.

Way too big, everything was way too big, way too serious.

You hoped for a little coffee shop to meet Natasha in, a little bit of shit talking and you ultimately politely declining her offer, crying about having some other business. You couldn't decline this though, you were sure of it.

If you had accepted an offer from a European mobster two weeks ago you would have been half way to Italy by now, enjoying expensive champagne on a private plane.

There would be no champagne at the compound.

The car came to an halt right in the front of wide stairs leading up to an enormous front of glass. People went in and out by the second. You didn’t imagine the compound this busy.

On the last plane of stairs Natasha waited for you. Crossed arms, wide stance and an unreadable expression on her face. If it wasn't for the busy people around her and the HQ in the background you would have thought you travelled back in time.

Agent Davis opened the door for you. You thanked him and said your goodbyes, your voice shaking a little bit. You were caught off guard. Agent Davis didn't say a word, but he spared a smile.

"Y/L/N. Long time no see." As the car drove off and you moved up the stairs Natasha greeted you with a similar serious voice like when she called you. It wasn't the best of signs.

"You don't look a day older than the last time I saw you.” She smiled now, just a little bit, and not for long but it was enough to make you feel a bit more safe. You smiled back closing the umbrella as you took the last stairs and stepped inside.

"So, Natasha, what is so urgent that you had me brought here?"

"Patience, dear. It's so good to see you again."

"You never bothered to call me."

"I was busy."

"So am I. I have business to attend, so can we get this over with?"

"Not really, you don't." She smiled, and you were caught off guard once again. You should have prepared better.

"You have been watching me?"

"Since you came back to town. Didn't see much business you attended to." You sighted, closed your eyes as you two were moving up yet another flight of stairs. Geez this building has more stairs than heroes pent up.

"Besides, I don't think you have any more businesses to attend after I explained you our offer." She mocked you. Good old Nat.

"Our?"

"Dear, I work in a team now." with that sentence, she opened a darkened glass door to what seemed like a conference room.

You excused yourself two hours later for a break, having to think over. everything you just got told.

You stepped outside. Next to flight of stairs you entered the building over earlier was a patch of grass, some may consider it a front lawn. You just thought it was a sad attempt to make the block of concrete a little bit more friendly.

It stopped raining and you lighted a cigarette. Bad habit of yours but you never considered stopping. Made an awful lot of things easier, or so it seemed.

Bruce Banner had followed you outside.

Natasha probably sent him, trying to sympathize with you. But you just needed a break.

"You can decline the offer if you want to, you know." Is not the sentence you expected but you could certainly work with it.

"I'm not so sure about that.” You took a drag from your cigarette.

"And I'm sure you know that."

He smiled. An honest smile. You weren't expecting that. "Nat can be a bit... demanding at times. But I'm sure you know that." He knew about the relationship between you and Natasha. You weren't expecting that either.

"What did she told you about me?" You were uncomfortable now. People knowing stuff about you made your skin itch.

"That your skill and expertise makes you valuable for a whole lot of people. That you like it to keep everything for yourself, she said you like to work on your own. And that you don't keep information from wandering off if the right price is offered." He retold you everything Natasha did tell him, but he didn’t seem to be that much interested in this kind of information. Nevertheless your skin was burning now.

"Then why call me for something this important?" Your cigarette was half gone and you didn't intend to keep talking to Bruce after it burned down completely, thrown away and left to dissolve onto the puddle sprinkled grass.

You didn't need small talk right now, no winning over by a kind soul. Businesses needed to be attended to, you had a timetable and you were running behind 3 appointments already. Or so you told yourself.

But, and this made you question yourself, what did Bruce had to say about you? What did Natasha tell him that made him seek a conversation with you, when you clearly weren't up for it.

"Why did Natasha send you of all people, after me? If you know so much about me what made you think that you could possibly win me over for your cause?"

"Nat didn't send me. I'm here on my own, you know? And I personally think you could help us a lot... If you want to."

"I’m a criminal."

"We all are to some extend."

You started to think that maybe, just maybe, he was genuinely interested in your person, not just your abilities.

You smiled into your cigarette. You didn't knew exactly why, but a smile seemed fitting in this situation. No business, no working matter to discuss about. Just to people talking.

"When I was young I wanted to help people. Didn't matter what or who, l just wanted to give support to people in need. I can listen, I can comprehend. Keep stuff organised. I was the go to person for rumors in high school. And in the blink of an eye I found myself between criminals and information that makes you puke out your intestines. And now I help the cruel fulfill their cruelness. I never thought helping people could be bad, but here I am; an international fugitive with no moral code and currently talking to an avenger!"

You were railed up. This whole situation just seemed so ironic. Getting offered a job with the opportunity to finally help people and, potentially, kinda maybe help the world out.

It's just...

"So just for the sake of helping people you threw everything else out of the window?"

"in a way...?”

"Well maybe you don't have to it this time."

Your cigarette has been burned down some time ago, but you clinched to it like it was the last thing that kept you from dying.

Oh, the irony.

Your whole life people cared only about what you could or couldn't do. They questioned you. Whats the price? How long will it take you? Are you able to do it?

And now this man, out of all people, the man with the monster inside him. The man with the ability to wipe out whole cities, the man who’s judged and hunted for what he’s able to do instead of being celebrated to keep it contained, to not destroy everything around him.

This man is telling you, that you can pick out your dream from the street under the window you threw it out of such a long time ago, if you just had the guts to leave the comfort and security of loneliness.

You didn't have them.

You gave that up a long time ago.

"Thank you, Bruce. But tell the others I'm not interested."

And with that, you stepped from under the roof out on the soggy grass. Your heels were boring themselves into the mud. It had started raining again. You didn't care.

"At least let me call you a car to bring you back!"

"I'll find my way. Goodbye."

You didn't turn around.

It's bad for business. Or so you told yourself.

[celebritylive]

Kirk Douglas has died at the age of 103 leaving behind an iconic Hollywood legacy that included 92 acting credits and 75 films.

His son Michael, 75, shared an emotional statement with PEOPLE announcing the news: “It is with tremendous sadness that my brothers and I announce that Kirk Douglas left us today at the age of 103. To the world, he was a legend, an actor from the golden age of movies who lived well into his golden years, a humanitarian whose commitment to justice and the causes he believed in set a standard for all of us to aspire to.”

The actor continued, “But to me and my brothers Joel and Peter he was simply Dad, to Catherine, a wonderful father-in-law, to his grandchildren and great grandchild their loving grandfather, and to his wife Anne, a wonderful husband.”

“Kirk’s life was well lived, and he leaves a legacy in film that will endure for generations to come, and a history as a renowned philanthropist who worked to aid the public and bring peace to the planet,” Michael added. “Let me end with the words I told him on his last birthday and which will always remain true. Dad- I love you so much and I am so proud to be your son.”

Kirk’s life story is a rag to riches fairytale, one he lived to the fullest. Born during the height of World War I to poor, illiterate Russian immigrants living in upstate New York, the hardworking future icon pulled himself out of poverty to become one of the most famous men in the world.

“My parents came from Russia and my original name was Izzy Danielovitch,” Douglas told PEOPLE in 2015. He said his given name was too unwieldy and too Semitic for Hollywood at the time, so he changed it to Kirk Douglas before pursuing a career in show business.

“I wish I had kept it,” he said, looking back on the decision. “It’s more interesting to keep your original name. But can you imagine that name on a marquee?”

At the time, aesthetics were not the only reason Douglas was eager to part with the family name. His father, who made his living reselling rags and scraps of metal, was never emotionally supportive. “My father was not very affectionate,” Douglas told PEOPLE. “He was never interested in what I was doing. I had six sisters and no brothers and I wanted to be close to my father and he just ignored me.”

Although close with his mother, Douglas developed a chip on his shoulder that at first, he channeled into athletics.

“I was always in pretty good shape. In college I was a wrestler and I made money in the summer working at a carnival,” he remembered. “I was the guy who was a plant, the mark, and I’d wrestle people in the audience.”

With no money to pay tuition, Douglas talked his way into the dean’s office at St. Lawrence University and ended up convincing the school to give him a loan, which he paid off working as a university janitor and gardener. He joined the Navy not long after the U.S. entered World War II, and served until he was medically discharged for war injuries in 1944.

Douglas’ big break came after the war, when his friend and fellow aspiring Jewish actor Lauren Bacall recommended him for a role opposite Barbara Stanwyck in 1946’s The Strange Love of Martha Ivers.

“I met Betty in drama school,” Douglas said of Bacall. “I was just coming out of the Navy and she was already in Hollywood. We met at a restaurant and she had her script of To Have and Have Not with her and she read me some of her lines, the whistle scene. I thought, she is going to be a star.”

  The two also had a brief fling, and Bacall did what she could to help Douglas stay on his feet. “I had a thin coat in the winter and we were talking,” he remembered. “That night, she talked her uncle out of his overcoat … and I wore it for two years.”

Douglas married another young actress, and mutual friend of Bacall’s, Diana Dill, before he was discharged from the Navy in 1943. They had two sons, Michael in 1944 and Joel in 1947, before they divorced in 1951. The two kept in touch. Douglas said Anne and Diana often had lunch together and Anne called her ‘our first wife.’ ”

  Douglas cemented his onscreen tough-guy status while receiving his first major critical praise for 1949’s Champion. He took a gamble on the part, turning down a bigger-budget project for the film, which earned him his first Academy Award nomination. The decision to follow his gut and take less money for a better part made a major impact on his career. In 1955, Douglas trusted his instincts again and alienated himself from the Hollywood studio system by forming his own production company, which he named Bryna Productions, after his mother.

  With celebrated roles in films like Along the Great Divide (1951), Detective Story (1951) and The Bad and the Beautiful (1952), Douglas became one of Hollywood’s biggest box office stars throughout the ’50s and ’60s. But even at the height of his success, he never lost his independent, outsider spirit. After breaking his contract with Warner Bros. to form his own production company, Douglas starred in and produced films like the Stanley Kubrick-directed, anti-war film Paths of Glory (1957) and Spartacus, also directed by Kubrick.

Douglas’s decision to once again defy conventions and work with a blacklisted writer, Dalton Trumbo, on Spartacus helped to end the purge of alleged Communist sympathizers in Hollywood.

“Dalton Trumbo was one of the best writers we had. He was on the Hollywood blacklist, so he was working under another name,” Douglas told PEOPLE. “It was such a terrible, shameful time. So I decided the hell with it! I’m going to put his name on it. I think that’s the thing I’m most proud of because it broke the blacklist. It caused me a lot of trouble, but it was worth it.”

  Douglas remarried in 1954 to producer Anne Buydens. He met the Belgian-born beauty in Paris while filming Lust for Life. They had two sons, producer Peter Douglas and actor Eric Douglas, who died of a drug overdose in 2004.

“When you take inventory about all the moments of your life … you don’t forget the sad moments,” Douglas said of Eric’s death. “And in many ways, they mean more than the happy moments. Eric’s passing is a big sadness in my life. And I’ve had lots of sad moments.”

During a career that spanned seven decades, Douglas earned three Oscar nominations, two Golden Globes and made over 75 films. His philanthropic work is perhaps even more impressive. The actor has established over 400 playground parks for children across Los Angeles, funded minority scholarships at major universities, donated over $40 million to the Motion Picture and Television fund alone, and recently donated a robot to the Children’s Hospital of Los Angeles — aptly named Spartacus. But of all his many accomplishments, Douglas is most proud of being a dad, especially in light of his own strained relationship with his father.

“I’m much more demonstrative with my kids about hugging and kissing them and telling them that I love them. My father wasn’t like that,” he admitted. Still, Douglas’ relationship with his kids has not always been perfect, and he recognized the sometimes-negative role his success played in their lives.

“My boys didn’t have my advantages,” he explained. “When you are so poor as I was, and when you start at the bottom, you are driven to succeed. They grew up privileged and it was harder for them to be driven.”

His relationship with his son Michael, whom he called “the hardest to know” of his children, has long been a work in progress. “Michael was always more distant of all my sons, and I always wondered why,” he said. “When I asked him if I was a good father, he answered me with one word, ‘Ultimately.’ ”

But time has healed many wounds, and Douglas said his oldest son called him “every Sunday, if not more.” He was also close with his grandchildren, some of whom he feared might one day go into the family business.

“They are fantastic kids. Carys plays the piano and loves to dance and is a wonderful poet. Dylan plays the lead in all the school plays,” he said of Michael’s two children with Catherine Zeta-Jones. “I think he’ll be an actor and maybe Carys, too. I think my family is doomed!”

Douglas had seven grandchildren. “I’ve loved watching all my grandchildren grow up,” he said.

Speaking about his dad at a recent MPTF gala, Michael said of his dad’s birthday, “It’s an amazing personal century, filled with so many accomplishments and achievements that, if I recounted them all, we’d still be here for Kirk’s 105th birthday. My dad is an icon. He’s a legend. He’s a true movie star from an era when movie stars were looked at as our version of royalty, and Kirk earned that status.”

from PEOPLE.com https://ift.tt/2H0saXv