#and more assimilated into human society

[starrysharks]

winter assassin outfit

[p2ii]

I feel like there's something to be said about the way fandom will treat characters who's trauma they can personally relate to Vs characters who they cant

[satsuha]

just saw a version of that dunmeshi shapeshifter race chart for another series now i'm thinking about one for drgl... human/sylvan/rokkan/dragon and... faerie or qilin?? i'll make a chart for it later if i remember...

[ladychandraofthemoone]

It’s Tough to be a God

here’s Kyle pondering on many things like he and Stanley wondering on where to go out, trying to convince Fred not to steal his golden whistle to go to alternative dimensions watching over the forest near the railway, he got into an a scruffle again the list drags on

also not so fun fact Kyle doesn’t wear his hair long after a majority of time with the scientists along with passengers, workers and just other folks constantly touching, grabbing, yanking even cutting his hair off when he was asleep under the belief it would grant them magical properties or protection or for examination (some stranger chopped his hair off when he was sleeping in humaniod au)

so for his own safety (though Kyle laughs and saids it was a hassle to take care of) he keeps it as short as possible though he once wore it long when he was inside the lamp cause I refuse to believe it gotta let Kyle go off so easily, he’s bonded to it so I imagine this pic takes place in the future when he isn’t so much if a danger magnet but also cause my mind is like “LONG HAIR KYLE LONG HAIR KYLE-“

[musashi]

i want more nuance to be entered into the discussion of the green girl sorority and how differently cynthia plays elphaba in comparison to those who came before her because while a lot of people are rightfully like "why was elphaba not black from the beginning" and celebrating that she is now being played by a black woman, i think we need to be careful in just writing off all the elphabas of the past as Random White Girls when the role was championed (and often followed/succeeded) by a jewish woman

the pop culture archetype of the Wicked Witch has deep roots in antisemitism stretching faaaar far back. there is a level of reclamation happening in casting idina menzel, a jewish woman, to play the Misunderstood and Maligned young girl who is branded as exactly that. and stage!Elphaba is also written and acted with jewish stereotypes in mind--she is loud, aggressive, no-nonsense, blunt. she is quick to advocate for herself and shut down the discrimination she faces. all of this is very intentional! her personality is abrasive from years of abuse, and that makes propagandizing her easy. this is literally the thesis statement of the musical--it's not about aptitude, it's the way you're viewed.

cynthia's performance of elphaba is fucking INSPIRED despite going in a completely different direction. she's much more reserved, analytical, one of her key character traits is how well she can read people (see her calling out Galinda as insecure/putting on airs in their first scene together, clocking that Fiyero is using his party guy persona as a shield for his own depression) elphaba's attempts to blend in and make herself smaller all fail simply because of her existence, if not that then because she feels empathy so strongly she often struggles to hold back from acting, protecting.

personality wise, though, cynthia's elphaba is very quiet and closed-off, not at all the bullet-to-the-face that she is in the stage show, and... she still gets propagandized and maligned. though this seems to contradict the other interpretation, it tells of the other end of the spectrum of propaganda, one that black women watching (and many, MANY other marginalized folks) are sure to identify with--it does not matter how "nice," how reserved, how small a black woman makes herself. a racist society will still scrutinize her every action for a way to parse ill intent from it, brand her as an angry black woman who is dangerous and wicked, and write off any humanity she has in the process.

these two very different interpretations tell of the lie of assimilation. the fact of the matter is, when you are marginalized, there is no way to sand down your edges enough to make the people oppressing you "accept" you. that is why wicked is a tragedy at its core. whether loud and aggressive or quiet and unimposing, there is nothing elphaba could have done to make the people of Oz see her as anything other than a scapegoat to blame all their problems on.

so while i definitely appreciate that people are excited for black girl era elphaba, i would encourage us all to still show appreciation for what came before--that was not white girl era elphaba. that was jewish girl era elphaba. two houses, both alike in dignity, two stories both worth being told.

[glubandeepspace]

that scene from The Last Unicorn where shes all brokenly like "i'm a unicorn. I'm a unicorn / I can feel this body dying all around me" really fits thematically with.. like.. all the main characters

[llycaons]

trying to listen to ancillary sword but it's going excruciatingly slow bc it's a sequel, and in fact I think the first sequel I'm listening to on audiobook. even very good sequels (which I expect this will be) will pepper in exposition and background info in the first chapter to catch up readers, which tend to take place in between lines of dialogue. I wouldn't mind except I always forget what was just said and have to go back and check, and it's comparatively much more difficult to rewind an audiobook to the right place than to glance back over a page. so I've been listening very very slowly aha. but I've finally gotten to ch2 and I'm glad I'm reading the sequel right away bc the story picks right up from the finale of the first book and I'm already intrigued by the new characters and entertained by the new plot direction

[muntitled]

Force-Fed

Pairings: The Salesman x Fem!Reader

Summary: You didn't need a job. Not when you only needed him.

Warnings: Dead Dove Do Not Eat, Language, Coercion, Standards Relationship, Abuse, Isolation, Gaslighting, Manipulation, Jealousy, Codependency, Stalking, Yandere!Salesman, Smut (+18) mdni, DDLG, Taboo Sex (she literally calls him dad), Freudian Slip, Daddy Kink, Dom!Salesman, Sub!Reader, Subspace, Slight!Age Regression, Choking, Degradation Kink, Praise Kink, Dacryphillia, Breeding Kink

A/n: If this isn't your vibe, leave the fic alone. Read something else. Like always I'm not responsible for the media you consume.

Installing a mobile tracker on your phone might not have been the most morally good thing to do, that he could admit. Perhaps even more incriminating is that the idea struck him while you were passed out on the floor, your body thoroughly spent from all his ravaging. He was nothing if not an inquisitive man and he needed to see what you got up to during the week, when you were without him. (Note: this started out as a precaution. For your own good. You ought to be thankful to have someone like him in your life).

Who knew that the tracker would bring him here?

His jaw is screwed shut as he leans down under the awning of a building, spotting you through the window of a tired coffee shop, donning a uniform he hadn't even known you owned- it set him alight with a certain level of possessiveness that was foreign to him.

He admits that before you, he'd never had much use for any pointless emotions like love or care. They were, at their very core function, just hormones injected into the brain in order to trick humans into reproduction. That's what he saw you as for the longest time: A means of reproduction. A conduit through which he could fulfill all his most absurd fantasies- fantasies that scared even himself.

When he hit you, fondled you, groped you or stretched your body beyond its tantalizing capabilities, he truly believed he was making you useful, and in return for your services you got to coast through university without having to worry about bills.

That's what it was supposed to be. Nothing less and certainly nothing more.

So what the hell is this?

Today is a Tuesday and your 'sessions' together are scheduled on Wednesday. He ought to just keep on walking and go about the rest of his day forgetting having ever seen you.

As far as your agreement was concerned, you were strictly expected to leave him to his devices throughout the week- it never occurred to him that he would also be expected to leave you to yours.

It makes him tsk, seeing you scrub the counters of a cafe... as if you didn't have him to provide for you.

Had he not provided you with enough?

Had you not gotten everything you wanted?

You were like a dog without a leash.

And his hand was itching to pull you right back to him.

He walks into the coffee shop before his brain is finished processing his movements.

"Good afternoon-" greeted the young man behind the counter. The place smelt like roasted coffee beans and debt. It's obvious in the very few patrons milling about that this business was doomed to fail. Your Salesman had a knack for spotting abject poverty and the owner- your boss, one Lee Junmin was teetering on the edge of financial ruin. It's a very good thing that your Salesman is here to save you from this sinking ship.

"Good afternoon," your salesman says stiffly, almost amicably.

He finds you mid-conversation with your coworker. There's a smile on your face as you crane your neck back, holding a cup under the burning faucet of a coffee machine. You're speaking amicably and you're still smiling. Genuinely. Not at all the robotic smile you reserved for the Salesman during your 'sessions'.

He realises now, watching you with a real smile plastered on your face, that you had been lying to him. You don't seem as broken as you claim to be. Seeing you here, assimilated into society. Sporting a part time job?

His knuckles clench around the handle of his briefcase. He was brimming with the need to punish you for it.

It's absurd.

To punish someone for being a fully functional human being. Not even his own psychological issues could adequately reason that.

The younger boy behind the counter rests a hand on your shoulder, finally letting your eyes settle on the tall Salesman behind the counter.

He can see the moment your breath catches in your throat.

How he wishes he had his heavy hands wrapped tight around that throat. He'd choke you for trying to get rid of him. For trying to... not need him.

"Could you take care of this customer? I need to go out for a break-" Your co-worker mumbles quietly and your heart drops like a bag of dipped in molten lava at the sight of him standing there on the opposite end of the counter. There's a smug sort of smirk playing across his features. I've caught the traitor, now it's off with your head.

You begrudgingly steel your nerves before turning to face your co-worker again, trying to even your breathing as you assimilate back into your easy banter, "And how many times have I told you smoking is bad for you-"

Your co-worker raises his tattooed hands, sporting a boyish grin. It's oddly refreshing to interact with a boy your age- someone normal who wasn't drowning in psychopathic tendencies or bullying homeless people for fun.

"Who said I'm going for a smoke break?" He asks, as you slide up to the counter. You situated yourself behind the barrier as if it was going to keep you safe. You knew nothing could keep you safe from the tense shadow hovering over your benefactor's eyes. The Salesman is livid as your co-worker finally makes himself scarce and after a few tense seconds, he finally speaks.

"I didn't know you did this." He says, staring you down the bridge of his nose.

Play it calm. Play it cheeky. Play it coy.

"You didn't know I make coffee?" That snooty remark doesn't earn you a single gratifying chuckle. It doesn't even earn you a soft, meaningless smile. In contrast, all it gets you is monotony. He's pissed.

"Worked." He spits out, "I didn't know you worked."

You only manage to stare up at him, silently before turning your attention to the screen in front of you.

There were a great many things he had already stolen from you- full autonomy over your body being the greatest loss. You'd raise up hell itself before you truly let him strip you of your independence.

"What can I get you for today?" Swift. Curt. Professional. As if you hadn't felt this man inside you. As if he hadn't choked you out until your vision was sparkling with stars. As if you didn't have his cock down your throat. No one here knew about your arrangement. In this coffee shop, you were safe from your history with the Salesman.

"Americano," You sigh softly, thinking he'll respect you enough to keep things professional. Poor, naive you.

“Tell them you quit." He says, forcing you to look up at his cold, dead orbs. "Do it now."

Your finger pause over the screen and your breathing picks up.

He couldn't do this. Not here. Not when you've finally found refuge away from him, his sadism, his demands and his reminders that he held the keys to you obtaining your degree. This coffee shop was the one place he couldn't reach you...

So why were you already on the cusp of giving in?

Your eyes flit over to the few patrons milling about before staring up at the man on the other side of the counter. Daylight was dwindling and beyond the windows, the city was drenched in an orange, almost pink late afternoon glow.

"Your order's coming right up."

"This place is going bankrupt soon. They'll fire you. It's better you quit now before they do." Your hands falter as you struggle to swallow that deeply authoritative veneer in his voice. That fatherly sort of guidance. Be careful, it said.

"Oh, this is you protecting me?" You hated that this was taking place at work, but business is indeed slow and the only other worker here is in the back of the building, smoking away his problems.

"Not protecting you." He says with a shake of his head, as a slow smile curls the ends of his lips, "Warning you."

You rolled your eyes then. It made his hand twitch with the need to correct you. To force you to submit to him. If there's one thing he couldn't stand, it's a rabid little girl.

"You can have a seat while you wait for your Americano-"

"Fuck the Americano." It comes out louder than he intended. It's a surprise, just like the vein popping out of his forehead. His mask was slipping.

"Tell them you wanna quit." He says in a much softer, more in-control tone of voice. He leans against the counter so that the words exchanged are heard only by the two of you.

There is deep anger and menace in his eyes. You can see the warning in them. Its blood-red and calling for you to just submit.

But you're feeling particularly brave. And so you immediately respond.

"Or what?"

"Or I’ll fucking kill you. You or that co-worker." His gaze fits to the door through which the boy disappeared as he sighed and said, "Remember the roommate's boyfriend?"

How could you ever forget?

There was blood.

So much blood.

Who knew humans were walking around with that much blood inside them?

"You want to threaten me out of having a job?" You were losing this battle and quickly. Desperation is the only thing you cling to as your eyes peer up at him.

"Want to?" He shakes, “Little Girl, I am threatening you. Quit now. Your co-worker would greatly appreciate it.”

He taps that counter once before taking a seat. "I'll get that Americano to go."

𓂃

Devastation.

A hyperbole of sadness and a pure manifestation of self pity that overwhelmed you in the taxi ride back to your apartment. Your mind replayed the confusion that graced your co-workers friendly face when you told him you 'just couldn't work here anymore'. The genuine sadness in his eyes had stopped you dead in your tracks. It triggered tears that you didn't even know you had because he actually made you feel loved.

Real love, not the fake stuff given to you by this hulking man seated silently in the taxi beside you.

The interior is flooded with neon lights and myriad little stars are plastered in the black sky.

"Fix your face," he grumbles without looking at you, "You're ruining everyone's mood."

You went the rest of taxi ride, sulking up a storm, until you arrived at your apartment building where you didn't look at him once, as you rode the elevator up, up, and up.

While you were contemplating genuine suicide, he, on the other hand, was one of the happiest- if not the happiest man on the planet.

He told you to correct your mood but the truth is he loved it. He loved seeing you so juvenile, as if you were teetering on the edge of a tantrum he so badly wanted to correct. He loved seeing you sulk like a child. It set his bones alight with a deep, uncomparable need.

He thought pain was the only thing that got his dick hard.

Perhaps he stands corrected.

"Take off your shoes," he hollers in that same tone of authority once you've entered your apartment building. You're like a ghost as you turn to kick your shoes off at the door before lugging your body deeper into the house. He watches you drop your handbag right there on the floor, before you're throwing yourself on the couch, face first like a sack of potatoes.

He attempts to hide his smile as he walks in along after you. He undoes the buttons of his blazer as he stands above you, eyeing you under a quirked brow as your shoulders begin to wrack with your tears.

He shrugs off the blazer before folding it on the nearest armchair.

You flinch when you feel his hand on your foot, lifting it up to make space for his large frame lowering onto the couch.

That infuriatingly warm voice is back as he quietly asks "Why are you crying?"

He extends his hands to the small of your back, rubbing dizzying circles while you cry and cry. He's comforting you after being the very reason you need comfort in the first place. Everything about this man is one big contradiction.

"I thought you'd be happy about this." Your voice is muffled by the cushion. You don't look up at him.

"What on earth would give you the impression that I want you to work?" He asks.

"W-Well," you attempt to rain in your sniffles and he attempts to not visibly grow a boner as your bloodshot eyes finally come into view. You're a beautiful mess for him. Your lashes are wet and your nose is runny and he wants to do so many vile things to you, its eating away at his soul.

He wants to play this game for as long as he can though, this sulking game that he didn't know hed enjoy so much. He settles for setting his hand at the back of your head as you talk.

"If I have a job that means there's less stuff you have to buy for me and-" You answer, sniffling cutely as you sit beside him. You're staring down at your hands fidgeting in your lap while his eyes can't leave the pathetic tears running down your face.

He doesn't think when he says it. He's not thinking about anything other than your body. How little you become for him. How sombre and sullen and sulky you are.

"And what if I prefer it?" He asks softly, "Taking care of you?"

You shake your head, trying to remove his hand ghosting behind you but he only weaves his fingers into your braids, keeping a wonderful grip on your scalp.

"You had no right to do that- you had no right to make me quit."

He leans over, sufficiently done with all these terrible games you've played and forced him to play. He was so dangerously close to combustion, his hands were trembling as he reached over to undo the buttons of your work polo shirt. You let him.

Of course you let him.

"Who was that then? You kissed him before?" His eyes find you before moving back down to the t-shirt. His fingers hook under the ends of the shirt as he lifts it up.

"Who was who? My co-worker?" You sound tired and dejected and you immediately hug yourself when nothing but cool air drifts over your naked torso. He moves a large hand over your breasts, marveling at the sheer size of it, comparing it in his hands. Your body truly was magnificent, he realizes. And all he has done this whole time is try to kill it.

"That... child," he breathes before dropping his hands down to your work pants. He undoes the buttons and you watch him with an intense look in your eye.

"You have a knack for calling every boy my age a child," you say shortly.

"That's because you're young," he admits before tapping your thigh slightly. You lift your hip and let him maneuver you out of the khaki pants, never to be worn again. The smell of coffee still hangs heavily over your skin but it's significantly less intense. Right now all he smells is you.

"And yet," you showcase to him the latest bruise along your collarbone. It's big and angry and hid very easily under the polo shirt. However, here under the overhead lights of your apartment, he could see them, "Look at everything you've ever done to me-"

He groans then. He actually groans.

His eyes flutter shut as his legs spread a little wider and he sinks a little lower into the couch. "Fuck," he whispers, head swinging towards you as he flutters his eyes back open.

"Come sit on my lap?"

His request only catches you remarkably off-guard. “Excuse me?”

"I said come sit on my lap," he replies so defiantly it nearly has your brain short circuiting. You narrow your eyes, not trusting it.

"Why?"

"What do you mean 'why'? Because I'm hard and I'd like you to sit on my lap."

"Is this another game?" You ask, still remarkably on the fence about the man who had been the pinnacle of sadism, suddenly force-feeding you his affections.

"If you don't sit on my lap I will bring out the cane again, don't tempt me-" before your able to make a decision, he makes one for you- attacking you with his large hands before you're able to protest any further. He wrestles you onto him, forcing you to take what he gave.

You're made to straddle his left thigh as he pulls you in close until your tits are pressed up against his shirt. He buries his head in-between the crook of your neck and you croak out a moan as he inhales you sharply. He hugs you towards him, bouncing you slightly on his knees. The feeling shoots straight to your cunt and you immediately begin to groan on top of him.

With his head over your shoulder, you can feel his fingers grace over the marks he'd left before. The marks from the cane. It scarred your back. Moulding the flesh in his image. Branding you as his

"You're young but you can handle it." He whispers, swiping his thumb over your scars before drifting his hands down to your hip. He slowly begins to drag your hips forward and you gasp, immediately searching for something to grab onto. You settle for his shirt. Your fingers curl around the fabric and he lets you ruin it as he pushes you back slowly on his thigh. He continues these torturous movements until your cunt gets the message and starts acting accordingly.

He watches with a slow nod as you begin to ride his thigh like he's conditioned you to.

"Jeez-" It was the sheer intimacy of the actual act that had your arousal dripping out of you and onto his thigh. You'd never had sex with him- purely for sex. It had always been an act of torture or punishment that had always led to sex. But never something so sexual being done so blatantly .

"Fuck yourself on my thigh-" he whispers hoarsely, almost pained as he urges you along. "You can do it, can't you? You can be a good slut for me?"

An equally pained whimper seeps out of your closed lips as you begin to ride his thigh like your life depends on it- spurred on by darkness in his glare and the bulge tenting his pants.

When you notice him undoing the buttons of those pants you realize you are utterly done for.

"Good little slut," he mumbles as he mindlessly reaches inside his boxers to uncover his cock already dripping precum.

"Open your mouth-" he's already shoving his fingers inside, flattening your tongue in order to collect as much saliva as possible before spreading it all over his cock. You watch in complete wonder as he begins to fuck his fist to the same rhythm you ride his thigh- it's so mesmerizing.

"D-Does this count as a session or-"

"Shh-" he says, squeezing his eyes shut as his hand squeezes the base of his cock.

He fluffers his eyes open again, only to state deeply into your lust-filled gaze.

"I don't think I've ever cum inside you with the actual objective of getting you pregnant." His words completely knock you off-kilter and he needs to bring his hand up to your side to stop you from slipping off his thigh.

He continues to stroke his cock, picking up speed.

"I've only ever just... did it.”

“Pl-Please stop talking-” you mumble, “I’ll cum,”

He doesn't listen.

“I cum inside you 'cus it's what I feel like doing in the moment," you try to stitch every piece of this moment to memory. The wrinkles lining his manic eyes, smile wiped clean from his face, leaving only a serious, aroused look of an incredibly grown, strong man.

"F-Fuck," your hips stutter on top of him as you softly whimper. "D-Dad-"

It cracks out of you.

And almost immediately you wish you could take it back but you're already cumming. And your words have his eyes widened as he lifts his hips from the couch fucking his fist deeper.

"F-Fuck I'm cumming-" he admits oh so gravely as his eyes squeeze shut.

"Me too-" you whimper as your own orgasm splits through you, soaking his thigh and ruining the fabric further.

Beyond a few shallow words, guaranteeing you that you won't be annihilated, he almost never initiates affection. In fact, you weren't even really sure if he was capable of it yet here he was, confessing the only way he knew how.

You're cumming on top of him as spurts of his cum land on his chest, making a mess on his shirt. You're both breathing heavily in the afterglow. The fog has yet to clear.

You sit up slowly, body wracking with aftershocks.

"This was nice but um- I need you to be rougher-" the words barely leave your mouth before he's clamping your throat shut with his fist. He's breathing heavily with his eyes still squeezed shut.

"You don't need anything-" he reminds you quietly, "You don't make demands, you take what I give you."

He squeezes and squeezes your throat like he did his cock.

"You're like a baby being forced fed.” He says, “My baby. My thing to take care of.”

[styllwaters]

Hailing from the harsh planet of Ettera, Knights are the only sophont in the Zhagaviit system made of two consciousnesses. ---

At last, here they are! Nearly finished with redesigning every Vivere 44 species. These guys are retconned werewolves which I posted about some time ago. You might have noticed I brought back some space unicorn aspects as well! They've been through so many design changes but I've finally settled on something solid.

More information below!

I'll try to keep this concise. Most of this info is introductory biology.

Knights are the only sophonts living on Ettera, a mostly barren planet where survival is tough. Their civilisation is the least advanced compared to others in Zhagaviit, such as Arrows and Sea Crawlers. They were the third species to be contacted by the ZGC (Zhagaviit Galactic Community) followed by Post Humanity. Knights are known for being hardy, efficient, and motivated.

If it isn't already clear enough, Knights are two species in a symbiotic relationship acting as one individual. Helmets and Hosts have an evolutionary history so intertwined that one cannot survive without the other.

The Helmet is attached to the head of the Host, and will remain there for the rest of their life (unless separation happens - but we'll get into that later). In the relationship, their role is vision and dexterity. Since the Host is effectively blind, it is the Helmet's job to guide them. Their hands are also important, being the Knight's primary manipulators. They played a large part in early tool use. The Helmet lacks a mouth, and receives all its nutrients from the Host through a specialised organ not unlike an umbilical cord.

The Host is essentially the main body of the Knight. Wolflike and mammalian in nature, the Host is the Helmet's mode of transportation. Because they need to eat for two, Hosts are omnivorous and will eat just about anything. Although majority of their diet is comprised of meat, they are capable of digesting plant matter and bones. They are highly skilled and effective hunters.

It is in both party's best interests to assimilate as soon as possible. The Host cannot see without a Helmet, and within a few weeks bonding will become impossible. The stakes are higher for a newborn Helmet, because they cannot feed by themselves and will starve in under a week without a Host or an artificial feeder tube. Prior to first contact with the ZGC, Knights did not have the technology for artificial feeders, and infant death rates were high.

So how do two beings coordinate one body? The fact is that once assimilation occurs, they become one being. The Helmet's brain and the Host's brain are connected by millions of nerves exchanging signals. It's complicated, but the best way to describe the experience would be a 'mutual trance' in which full body coordination is achieved. They have shared interests and intentions. However, a Knight can mentally separate the Helmet and the Host, gaining back individuality; they do this for many reasons, perhaps to discuss something among themselves or simply for company. Yet on the whole, a Knight will spend 80% of their life in this 'trance'.

Both Helmets and Hosts have noticeable sexual dimorphism. Male Helmets are called Pikes, and females are called Guards. Pikes are distinguished by their horn, bold stripes, and more prominent crest spines. Guards lack a horn and have less contrast in their thinner markings.

Female Hosts are called Forts. They are larger than males and have a mane of fur on the back of their necks. Male Hosts, Spires, lack this mane.

In Knight society, individuals are usually referred to based on their combination of Host and Helmet. Since there are four sexes involved, there are four possible combinations.

Guard-spire [female Helmet, male Host]

Pike-fort [male Helmet, female Host]

Guard-fort [female Helmet, female Host]

Pike-spire [male Helmet, male Host]

(Knight languages have their own version of pronouns for each, but in English all are referred to as they/them by default. Of course, each individual has their own preferences. Usually a Knight will refer to themselves as we/us).

____

I'll get into Knight social structure, cultures and more in another post! For now, if you have any questions, feel free to send an ask. Always happy to answer!

[misscammiedawn]

Thinking about We Know The Devil and Heaven Will Be Mine today. A duology. WKTD the tells the story of accepting you're queer, framed as a horror story of 3 repressed teenagers at a christian summer camp fighting off their inherent queerness and HWBM tells the story of how one accepts their place in society after embracing their queerness.

WKTD uses magical girl tropes in a fairly grounded Midwestern teen experience.

Magical girl stories often involve the struggle of the forces of Good and Evil. Purity and Impurity. Corruption often being a core theme of any girl squad facing down the nightmarish forces. This can be seen from Madoka's approach to the concept which is often referred to as a deconstruction. The Pink Opaque from I Saw The TV Glow overtly uses these themes in the exact same allegory as WKTD with the evil forces attempting to suppress the queerness of the protagonists.

HWBM uses mech anime tropes in an allegorical wonderland where the setting fades away to have the audience engage with the ideas at play rather than the lore. Mech anime often uses the giant robot duels as a method of visualizing ideological struggles. Too often in these shows beam sabers will cross as the pilots yell at one another to embrace ideas of how the concepts of war and prejudice can be battled out of existence.

In HWBM the "war" in play is humans versus space... or more accurately humans versus those who are not of Earth. Versus those who are alien. Versus those who are not human.

The dominant culture versus queer culture.

WKTD frames its tropes via the dating sim mechanics popular within its visual novel medium. But rather than choosing which of the 3 girls the player wishes to romance you must choose which of the 3 you wish to exclude. The idea being to scapegoat one's struggle with queerness by attacking outward, blaming the other, by shaming others into the closet to keep yourself in there.

Lashing outward to prevent reflecting inward.

The only good ending of the game is to accept a polycule dynamic where everyone is seen, accepted and embraced for who they are unconditionally. God's love, in this world, is conditional and one must always be excluded. The devil has room for three.

There is no room in normal society for a polycule. It is inherently queer. The dominant culture is binary and there's no version of a polycule where only a 0 and a 1 are represented. The binary is incompatible.

I recently told a friend that the duology tells the journey of a thousand miles and how it begins with a single step. WKTD is the story of that first and all too important step acceptance.

HWBM is the story of what comes after acceptance. After that first step.

It tells the story of the thousand mile journey.

The ideologies at play are the concepts of assimilation, activism and separationism. In the allegory Earth/Humanity represents the dominant "straight" society and the three characters represent each of these ideologies. Assimilation is to return to Earth, to integrate into the dominant culture and lose some of the inherent joy and "otherness" that being queer brings. It's no coincidence that the character representing this path is a trans woman who is known for defecting from her faction and crossing over to every other side while repeating the mantra "I've never betrayed anyone in my life", it is a coincidence however that her faction's war efforts are lead in part by God's Strongest Chaser herself (as far as I'm aware the Halimede Twitter Account is not affiliated with the game, but I find it funny that the assimilation path is represented by someone who a character whose gimmick account argues "t4t is incest"). It is a life of peace. But it is a life of compromise. Of giving up humanity's dream of the stars. To be grounded and tethered to Earth forever.

The Activism Path represents the idea of staying in Earth's orbit but never surrendering even an ounce of the queer identity for the sake of acceptance. Forcing the dominant culture to argue with us on our terms. Accept us on our terms. It is a life of constant battle but in that battle we will save those on Earth, invite them into the stars, embrace them with acceptance and love. Let them join us or remain where they are. This is a life of constant war, knowing that until all are loved and accepted, no one is and so we continue fighting. Letting people change sides. Nothing changes but maybe it's better that way.

Separation is the idea of abandoning Earth entirely. To become so incompatible with the dominant culture that we are no longer "human" to those who remain tethered. We are unapproachable. Separate. Unique. Other. Queer above anything else and incapable of creating a rational dialogue with the dominant culture. It is picking up your toys and walking away. Going far enough away from the culture war that it will never be able to reach you.

The author of the Halimede account once wrote, while in character, that this is the saddest ending of them all because it's unsustainable and that it does not address the inherent intersectional fighting between communities, allowing wars to simply break out further away from our blue marble in the distant stars. It is a life of abandoning war without embracing peace. To live separate in bubbles apart.

The ending of the game forces you to pick. There is no existing outside of these options. Maybe one day we'll find other ways to be but within the view of this game they are all we have. Embrace Earth, declare war on Earth or abandon Earth.

Choose.

I admit. Since the pandemic and coming out as trans, I've favored Saturn's ideology more than others. Completely giving up on "humanity" and only working within circles of those whose acceptance of queer culture is baked in. I fought so hard to accept who I was and "know the devil", so to speak, that I pulled back and withdrew.

Both games have a lot of themes about the demons ones must face within queer culture and outside of it. The way we hurt ourselves, hurt our allies and how the world outside societal, structural and individual will force us to compromise, to cut away parts of ourselves.

These games are masterpieces.

I wish I found them earlier in my life. I want everyone able to read these words to find them now.

[mossadspypigeon]

the pro palestine obsession with “armed resistance,” needs to be studied under a microscope.

“there is only one solution, intifada revolution.”

“resistance is justified when people are occupied.”

both of these catchy little chants display a laughable lack of knowledge, but let’s discuss the second one in particular tonight.

the people screaming it truly don’t know:

a. jewish history

b. what occupation or resistance are.

israel is jewish land. it always has been. it’s where judaism and the jewish people come from. it has been conquered and occupied by oppressors—british, arab, turk, persian, babylonian, greek, roman, byzantine—for over 3,000 years. no matter how hard they try, no matter how badly they wish they could make us disappear, the jew hating world cannot erase that history.

as established, jews are a historically colonized and occupied people. so why then is our resistance not justified? because we have better weapons? because of lies that say we are in power?

who has been IN LESS POWER throughout history, around the world, than jews? (no this is not an oppression olympics thing). when we had israel and judea the first time, empires couldn’t leave us alone. after, we have been dragged from our homeland in chains, enslaved in some places and stripped of rights and humanity in most others, raped, mass burnt, genocided, stolen from, attacked, relegated to humiliating professions, not able to own land, corralled like animals into ghettos and the pale and mellahs (the arab version of a ghetto), massacred, treated like scum, slandered, demonized, villainized, terrorized, forced to assimilate over and over and over, systematically murdered, expelled and BANNED for no reason at all except that we live and continue to live. in every generation, they come for us because we have the audacity to exist.

the one thing we wanted, for over 2,000 years of this horror, was to return to our home. if we were in diaspora, we longed for it, we prayed for it, we wished for it, we yearned, and when we could, we returned. if we were IN israel, we suffered for it. we lived as third class not-even-citizens. we endured the crusades and the arab riots.

l’shanah haba’ah b’yerushalayim: next year in jerusalem.

we have never stopped hoping. and now that we have it back, now that it is ours again, now that we offered peace deal after peace deal and gave up parts of our own ancestral land just so people who hate us will leave us be… the world tells us that the continuation of jew hatred, of the nazis and their ancestors, of all of our oppressors, of the horror we have endured around the world for centuries, is ACTUAL resistance?

that, essentially, what was done to us by the romans, the arabs, the turks, the babylonians, the persians, the russians, the syrian greeks, the church, the spanish, the nazis, etc etc etc…was always justified because it was “resisting” us?

because that is what the pro palestinian movement is: resistance against jews and jewish rights. that is what “from the river to the sea palestine will be free,” and its original form “from water to water palestine will be arab,” mean: NO. MORE. JEWS.

and that is what they are talking about when they use the word “resistance”: eradicating jews. aka the goal of every single oppressor we have ever had.

hitler said “my struggle.” before him, his political influences said the same. every time we were massacred, expelled, stripped of rights, “rioted” against, rounded up, the oppressor framed it as a persecuted society fighting back against the evil jews. that WE were a threat that must be purged. a “force” to be resisted.

so that is what these protestors consider liberation today: a world without jews. that is what they support and march and clamor for. that is why they hate zionism, the movement made by jews for jews, that was created to ensure we could finally have agency again. because once more, for the millionth fucking time, we are that “force” that must be resisted.

if not, then why is OUR landback movement, our decolonization called nazism?

why is our self defense lied about and called genocide? why is our own oppression used against us?

why are we constantly painted as the aggressor?

why is our history stolen and our indigeneity denied? why are we told to “go back to europe”?

why do they insist on calling their precious “palestine,” the name COLONIZERS gave to the region?

why is it okay to change the truth when jews are involved?

if not, why is israel called an apartheid colonialist project?

jews, who do not have a history of colonization. who were a vulnerable people, most of our population forcibly displaced and prevented from returning to our land, living at the mercy of people who hated us for centuries. we are oppressing the people who were our oppressors. who conquered our land, built their third holiest site on the RUINS of our holiest? who want us wiped from the earth and driven into the sea? who, after they destroy israel, g-d forbid, want to hunt down jews everywhere?

if the pro palestinian crowd is not “resisting” jews, then why do they target synagogues and jewish businesses?

if not, then why is it that when we promise ourselves and the world “never again,” and ACT TO KEEP THAT PROMISE, we are evil? when we build an army so it will never happen again, so we will never be at the mercy of others again, that army is an “occupation force”?

when we are fired upon and return fire, we are suddenly the ones who fired first? every single time?

when our people are massacred, raped, and stolen, and we respond with force to take out the enemy that has consistently committed crimes against us for decades, that constantly threatens our eradication, we are condemned by the world?

if not, why is our side never once acknowledged? why are they so afraid of what we have to say and what we can do? of what we represent: jews they can’t step on anymore?

every lie about us is believed fully without question or second thought, simply because the right words were used, the right buttons pushed. it’s almost like everything we do is considered heinous and unjustifiable…except setting down our weapons and dying.

the world hates a strong jew, a jew who won’t give in. a jew who actually and truly resists. that is why zionism is so hated. that is why israel is the villain. that is why we have always been considered a threat, because no matter what they threw at us, we wouldn’t give up.

(that is why antizionist jews exist, btw. as a response to thousands of years of oppression, they have lain down their weapons and spiritually died for the world, at their convenience, in the hope that for once, they won’t be hurt or killed. they have given up and surrendered and turned their backs on their own people for the illusion of safety. how sad is that? how tragic? that safety simply does not exist.)

anyway, if the anti israel crowd WASN’T resisting jews and jewish rights, they wouldn’t have to manipulate the narrative, demonize the jewish land back movement, coopt and erase our history, deny our ties to the land, support the people who want us eradicated, and/or fear the truth. in fact, they wouldn’t hate israel at all.

basically: they wouldn’t find any way they could to justify a world without jews, even if they have to delude themselves to do it.

yes, assholes, “zionist,” means jew no matter how many christian zionists exist in the world. it always has.

so no, not a single person chanting that horseshit knows what occupation or resistance is, and it’s likely they never will.

oh and also, pointing out the jew hate behind the palestinian and pro palestinian movements is not hating palestinians, aka arabs. ✌️

[thefusioncelestial]

Mix 12: From Bros to Man

If you live any amount of time in America, you know of its college & university system. So many dreams go, come, and are crushed there.

To facilitate the attainment & fulfillment of such, students have huddled together in groups, and those groups became fraternities & sororities. And for those who hate the light: secret societies.

In a particular university, there is a secret society, formed from the best of each fraternity & sorority.

There is a secret ritual used on the second year at this university for each cohort.

In two rounds of voting, the two chosen as two best of their cohort are merged together to create a stronger being. In the second round, the winner will assimilate the loser.

Choice one is Craig:

Top grades, always active in his fraternity, and gets a long with everybody. Thinking of declaring a major in Biology.

His popularity comes from being a non-drinker, so he has saved many a drunken brother from destroying their lives, and saved many in return from being their victims. Because he is always looking out for everyone, his house is allowed to not have a house mother, facilitating more fun.

And when his brothers do get into trouble, he is there to bail them out or lessen the punishment.

And then there is Sam who is the second choice:

Here he is checking himself out before doing his best prank yet. The professor for human anatomy was had poor eyesight & is known to be exhausted quite often. Overnight, Sam replaced the human body dummy with himself. It worked, the professor did an entire class without realizing that his replica of an human body was a real one. And to top it off, Sam ran out of the class at the end giving the professor a fright.

It helped that he was on the track team, and strangely fencing as well.

It was also a coincidence that this particular class had a 4 to 1 girl to guy ratio. Let's just say that the next party was a paradise for some people.

And yet for all the fun he brings to others lives, his was a little disorganized. He had yet to think about what major to choose & didn't think of his future after university. A life of riches will do that to person. He funds the parties for multiple fraternities, so no ever pushed him to start making up his mind. His grades are good, so any program would love to have him...and the donation dollars he could bring.

You would think that Craig & Sam hated each other. but they got along well. Part of that is using the society meetings to hash out & fix their issues. Plus they loved to plan the parties together.

This combo was known as the Serious Dad & Fun Uncle. You went to Craig to get out of trouble, and you went to Sam to get into it.

This strange balance & high level of maturity between the two is how they got into the society & how the society deemed they must become one.

The day of the merger arrives, and the only one who knows who will be assimilating is the upper echelons. Both men are brought into a dark room with their faces covered, and then sat each in chairs.

Both had no shirt on, Sam didn't take the ritual seriously, and was in his underwear as a joke.

Everyone else but the pair leaves. They take off their covers. It's pitch black. They are confused. Normally, whoever sits on the chair has won the right to continue and drive the life of the fused being, but then Craig realized.

There is a rare occurrence where both selectees win. They will walk together as equals, a true blending. Neither will be devouring the other.

Craig explains this to Sam. He is relieved. As a joyous reflex, he hugs Craig but when he tries to break the hug, he can't. Their skin is stuck like two pieces of duct tape stuck together.

Both understood what this meant, it was time. Goodbye Craig & Sam. Hello to whoever they are about to become.

They adjusted themselves the best they could to make the next stage more comfortable, Sam somehow fit in Craig's jeans, everything now pressing up against each other except their arms that were wrapped around each other's backs. There was a lot of grunting trying to do this.

Then hugged each other harder.

"Ugh, mmm"

Their skin gave way, their insides liquefied. Their bones broke down. They were a humanoid blob with jeans now. Without a skeletal structure, one wondered how the being stood upright.

It stood there, silently, as if wondering what to do. All one could hear was pulsating sounds.

Mentally, Craig & Sam stood in front of each other. A few moments later they smiled and then walked into each other. Their forms shimmered and became wispy & mixed into one. Then they settled into a new form, their new being.

The moment the became one mentally, so did their dna. A new double helix structure, no going back. Whoever they were before didn't exist anymore.

Almost immediately, the nervous, skeletal, & cardiovascular systems formed. Followed by the muscles, organs, and skin.

Initially the being looked like a bald but taller Craig, but Sam's features came in as well.

"Mmphf"

At the shoulders, arms, legs, and chest, there was a series of pops. Each pop heralded the arrival of new muscle.

"Ah"

Sam completely took over in the abdominal region. The beings abs reshaped themselves to have Sam's insertions. And then the skin squeezed a little tighter, making him more cut and his abs stronger and harder.

He began to breathe hard.

There was another pop. A bigger ass.

Craig won out in the family rod & jewels. Long & girthy. Big sacks to match. If anything changed, they got bigger proportional to his new height and musculature.

The new being began to move his neck back and forth as if straining against something. With each movement his neck grew longer and longer. He stopped after another pop, his neck now thicker.

Hair began to grow from his head and face. He had Sam's hair color. His eyebrows, noise, & skin tone were Sam's as well. The eyes were Craig's but a little rounder. The mouth, ears, jawline, and chin were a combination of both. Initially, the hair was Sam's, but thanks to Craig, the hair became wilder, more shaggier, but somehow more controlled than what Craid had.

He let out a deep breathe & opened his eyes. Craig & Sam were reborn as one. They, no he is Hunter.

He was led into another room, a bathroom, to go wash up and change if needed. But before taking a shower, he took a look of himself in the mirror:

He liked what he saw.

Hunter was a Biology major, a track star, & on the fencing team. Rich. And he understood the need for both work and play.

From Craig & Sam was born a more balanced man.

[beggars-opera]

Ok, so I live in one of the more liberal areas of the country. Our governor is a lesbian and I literally did not even know until after she got elected, because it was that much of a nonissue.

Lately, I'm seeing more and more local institutions doing things for Pride. Institutions that don't necessarily have to, or do so awkwardly, but they're trying to be good allies. And, even here, I see people foaming at the mouth. This thing is ruined. Unprofessional. Political. Sexual. Boycotting, disgusted, bye.

And a part of me is like, "Why would a random store, a museum, a restaurant, do this?" Part of my mind has been so corrupted by the idea of rainbow capitalism that the thought of someone just...trying to be an imperfect ally is a cash grab.

It's not. Every bit counts, and especially as we see pushback, and see some of those corporations beginning to rethink their rainbow capitalism, the places that continue to speak up are so, so important.

I'm reminded of a rant by Illustrious Old White Man Historian Gordon Wood a few years back where he lamented how fragmented modern history is. Why do we need ANOTHER book about women, about enslaved people, about the poor? Why are we focusing on these people instead of George Mount Rushmore Washington?

And it was an interesting framing, because he insinuated that these micro histories were bad not because they existed, but because they didn't give the whole story, which in Gordon's mind was a story in which they were the side characters instead of the mains. To that end a biography of G Wash that features the bare shadow of Billy Lee in the far distance is a complete history, all that needs to be said, because one of those figures is a God Amongst Men and the other does not deserve to be fully fleshed out as a full, autonomous human being with a family and a profession and a beating heart. And a biography of William Lee, war aid, professional valet, and person closest to the first president of the United States, with the shadow of George in the background, would consequently be Bad History, because no one is saying that this man didn't exist, but his story isn't the whole story. It's backwards; he should be a footnote, and if he's not, that's bias.

But for me, as a historian, I know that the reason these microhistories exist, and are so important, is that they didn't exist before. Before someone can be truly, purposefully, tactfully inserted into the historical narrative, you need to know who they are. Not just as a name, not just as an archetype. You have to get to the point where there are so many books flooding the market about women and children and immigrants that it's no longer controversial to be talking about them, where learning about them instead of someone else is normal.

THEN you can feel good about rewriting the more general narrative. THEN you can actually have the information you need in order to put things into their proper context, to rethink the most important figure in each story, to assess what the full milieu of the time is.

And that's where we're at with Pride. We are still very much living in a time where queer people are shadow characters in the background. They are people that many will admit exist, but for god's sake, don't make them important, don't make them real, don't make them normal. And until we can shove rainbows down everyone's throats to the point where being queer is no longer seen as a thing that is Other, until we convince people that we're not going away, we will never be able to fully assimilate queerness into society.

We can't just be normal about Pride, because normal isn't loud enough to not get drowned out.

[literaryvein-reblogs]

Writing Ideas: Evil Plan

This trope is the reason "villains act, heroes react"; the villain needs to be doing something evil or the hero has no evil to thwart.

Some popular examples of Evil Plans:

Take Over the World: This is the most popular villainous scheme of all. The scale of conquest can vary depending on the setting and (or) the villain—some warlords are content to settle with conquering a city, a kingdom or nation, while Science Fiction or Fantasy overlords will go for nothing less than galactic, universal or even multidimensional domination.

The Evils of Free Will: A popular means to this end: by robbing everyone of their free will, they will have no choice but to serve their rightful ruler.

Assimilation Plot: Let's turn everyone into a single entity, whether they wish it or not.

Earth-Shattering Kaboom: Why take over the world when you can blow it up? Like Take Over the World, the scale of destruction also varies depending on the setting — some villains are content with merely destroying a city or kingdom (particularly if they feel the city or kingdom has somehow wronged them — i.e., revenge), while Omnicidal Maniacs may well wish nothing less than to destroy the entire universe or multiverse.

Kill All Humans. Related tropes: Feeling Oppressed by Their Existence: A character wants to get rid of a particular person or group of people just for existing. Absolute Xenophobe: Wants to destroy all other sentient life (human or otherwise). Omnicidal Maniac: Wants to destroy absolutely all life, sentient or not. Final Solution: The intentional extermination of a species/demographic is the answer to fix a perceived issue. Humanity's Wake: The outcome of this trope should the opposing species succeed in eradicating us.

In Their Own Image: Not happy with the world the way it is? Try tearing it down, and building it back up as something even greater.

The End of the World as We Know It: Not so much destroying the world or humanity as really screwing up civilization; though the former two may be involved in the bargain.

A God Am I: Forcing everyone to acknowledge their godhood (actual godlike powers optional).

Godhood Seeker: Make your character an actual deity.

Immortality Seeker: Pursue the quest for eternal life, no matter what foul deeds are needed to make it happen.

A Plot in Deed: Steal the deed to a plot of land and you'll own it, so why not steal the deed to somewhere good?

MacGuffin: Steal an ancient artifact with untold powers. This is usually done in the pursuit of one of the other Evil Plans.

Sealed Evil in a Can: Release the source of all Evil from its prison. This rarely goes well for the villain attempting it.

Revenge: You know that guy that wronged you in the past? It doesn't matter how petty or misplaced your grievance is, it's payback time. Time to kill him, or make his life a living hell.

Get-Rich-Quick Scheme: If you're already rich, get richer. Any scheme is fair game in the pursuit of the profit margin, be it theft, blackmail, or auctioning the world off to hungry demons. Unfortunately, this lust for wealth falls prey to poor planning.

Utopia Justifies the Means: You know how people keep hurting themselves and each other? Make them stop, by whatever means are necessary. No ill will required! Just like in Take Over the World, The Evils of Free Will often gets put into play here.

Dystopia Justifies the Means: People hurting each other? That's exactly what your society needs. Use all the means at your disposal to create a nightmarish dystopia where the forces of evil run rampant and people live in constant terror and corruption, just the way the villains like it.

Poke the Poodle: Their idea of evil is harmless behavior like cheating at Solitaire, jaywalking on an empty road, chewing gum in Singapore, pulling the "do not remove" tag off of your mattress, hiding your toothpaste, drinking the milk directly from the carton...

Source ⚜ More: References ⚜ Writing Resources PDFs

[five-thousand-loaves-of-bread]

"gestures & sounds & nonverbal communication is (no tech) AAC. (AAC = augmentative & alternative communication. nonverbal communication = communication without words/language, not communication from nonverbal people)

"texting, writing, posting on social media, all actually accepted versions of AAC."

or thjs very old post from 2023 by assistiveware, an AAC company, creator of proloquo series:

[ID: screenshot of @ AssistiveWare instagram post. post itself is light purple background with dark purple text. bold text read “Social media, texting and tweeting are basically large scale socially accepted AAC systems." below that not bold text say " - Saoirse Tilton, AAC user." at very bottom have AssistiveWare contacts and logo. end ID]

are all things have heard people say when try explain to people who have no idea what AAC is.

is this true? are these AAC? are people who use these thus AAC users?

other AAC users may feel differently, n by no means am dictator of AAC, but as someone who nonverbal full time AAC user, personally really hate this, disagree - or at least disagree w this unnuanced explanation, especially when use with beginners or people who never in their life heard acronym AAC. find it counter productive, even more harm than good.

or, say different, personally: gestures, body language, mouth sounds, drawing, texting, writing, social media, these not AAC by default. in certain situations/context, AAC users may use these as AAC or AAC-adjacent (context-dependent, user-dependent). but saying “all these AAC” without more explain & nuance, false & irresponsible.

because, again, AAC, stand for augmentative and alternative communication. or, put into sentence, typically seen as "non-oral/mouth speech communication that augment (add to) and/or use as alternative to (replace) oral/mouth speech."

(* say "typically" because there people who can't spell thus can't type, who use button-based AAC to replace that. but this typically not what people mainly mean when say "AAC")

but, include & on top of all that, in current world AAC have extra layer of connotation (idea/ feeling/association on top of what it literally mean) of... it not standard. it not typical. it not the norm. it transgressive. people/norm expect something. u giving them another.

for better—me be nonverbal AAC user do make me different than verbal people, do give me different access needs, in world not designed for me. it make me different (unique). n want that difference acknowledged, instead of toxic positivity assimilation "you just the same" out of pity only

or for worse—be treat as second class citizens. oral speech be seen as better than AAC. have communication AAC not listened to or thrown out, which some AAC users have experienced in legal/law/police/abuse report situations. we treated differently (worse).

people whose mouth speak works won't use AAC. AAC is what come next when that not work or may not work.

different (positive). different (neutral). different (negative).

transgressive.

.

people w complex communication needs, n by extension AAC users, we treated horribly by society & by people in society. we get teased, bullied, ignored, abused, abused & not able communicate it, but we not just get mistreated on individual-level. often we denied right to communicate, right to education, n other human rights. many of us forced to live in silence, because we not given communication tools, or support for develop communication. sometimes police, testimonies, & official legal records not see our AAC communication as real communication.

our non-oral speech communication get seen as less legit than oral speech. other people’s oral speech get automatic listened to before our own. we denied communication tools that may help us thrive because people around us want us to speak orally & think any other tool will take away our hypothetical chance to talk fluently reliably via mouth.

everyone communicate in variety of ways. body language on purpose, body language not on purpose, gestures, pointing, vocal sounds, drawing, writing, texting, via showing pictures. for most verbal people, these communication are normalized. no one bat an eye when person giving speech use body language persuade audience, or when you show friend picture of your lunch when you struggling explain it. but us, who can’t fully rely on oral speech, we need rely on these more. heavier. more intentionally. more on purpose. but ours gets dismissed. gets ignored on purpose.

so, really do understand trying to reframe AAC to people who not know what it is, or people resistant to it. that we all use it. that they use it. that they listen to other verbal people who using it. so ours should be listened to, too.

but that’s the thing: everyone communicate in variety of ways. n for most verbal people, those are normalized.

make text post in social media where expect text post norm is text post suppose to write text (may even not have audio option), and, use non-mouth speak communication (or not use mouth speak) in person when all people mouth talk all expect you mouth talk. fundamentally different.

second thing get you ableism. get make fun & mock at best, in conversation get ignored at best. at worst, get hate crimed, get killed, get wrong convicted, or in medical situation see as justify for not need consent or reason ignore what you say or reason declare incompetent.

first thing. well, who get be on social media full of privilege & discrimination, who get heard on social media full of that, who get bully & make fun of for writing "wrong" for content full of that (race, class, dis/ability, etc). but, struggle think of time where act of make text post on social media where expect post text post is.. that.

there difference between writing text post in tumblr or any text-based social media, or text fun friend group where you all miles apart n all texting, vs texting in group chat when sit irl with friend group who all orally talking, different, or person using letter board to spell out everything they want to say.

there difference between showing your friend picture of your dinner when it too complicated to explain n clearer in picture when you bump into eachother n start mouth chatting, vs using symbol based communication in high tech speech generating device or low tech picture cards, or even AAC user having unique relationship with art n see that as way of communicate.

maybe in another world or in future, second group get as normalized as first. but we not there. and AAC users who use most basic, fundamental, narrowest definition of AAC, we exist right now in real life, we not theory or theoretical.

in average face to face situation, even verbal person use more nonverbal communication than verbal ones.

are all communication that not oral speech, AAC?

trying to normalize AAC, but end up erasing our differences (differences can be factual. neutral.), assimilating us, turning a word that have specific meanings for us into something so wide, it useless to those of us who most impacted, those of us who need it.

there better way to explain we all use things other than oral/mouth speech to communicate than “they *are* AAC” for everyone, in every situation. (n yes, people DO say that)

if anyone with similar feelings with simpler way put it, please do. it too complex n abstract in brain, n not have scripts or “table of contents” in brain that already exist for it, so feel like wrote bunch of confusing nothing.

[rewrite of old post for AAC awareness month. so parts that sound bit different, that why (copy paste).]

[whereserpentswalk]

There's an orc attending your college. Your city is pretty diverse, there's a lot of human cultures represented there, and even harpies and dwarves are common. But an orc is still a really rare sight. And she's not assimilated at all, she wears the symbol of the dark lord around her neak, and the strange black cloths from the wastelands she came from, and she always seems to have a gun somewhere on her. It's strange just to see an orc in person, she's not like the green skinned monsters you see in movies, her eyes are pitch black, and her skin is so pale you can see veins, she's muscular and tell but also strangely skinny, and her teeth are sharp and spiked like a sharks, this one doesn't have tusks, just these rows of serrated teeth.

Everyone avoids her at first. There's something creepy about her. She doesn't move like a human. She emotes weirdly, being stoic during conversations, but sometimes smiling or laughing at odd times. In class it becomes clear that she lacks knowledge anyone growing up in your society has, but has extensive knowledge on things most humans will never know. She also very clearly supports the dark lord and the demons who serve him, and gets mad when his narrative of conquest and strict genetic hierarchy is challenged in class.

You end up paired with her for a class project. It's weirdly awkward. But you end up spending more time with her then most. It still takes awhile to get used to her mannerisms, and you have to convince her of evolution in a long debate (but eventually you do convince her). She seems strangely naive to a lot of things. Every time she does something that she considers a failure she goes into self loathing, and she gets really afraid she's going to be punished. You have to explain to her things are going to be ok sometimes.

You try to spend time with her. She supports the dark lord but out of a strange sense of fear more than the type of ideological support humans in nations not under his control have. When she does something that she thinks is heresy agaisnt him she becomes afraid. And while she's angry at people who follow gods other than him (which is basically everyone here) she's more afraid of them than everything. When a holy symbol you own touches her she's surprised it doesn't burn her, you have to tell her it's ok.

She has a lot more freedom here than she did back in the wastelands. You slowly help her realize she doesn't have to worry about being punished for sinning agasint the dark lord. She's able to go on the internet for the first time, you help her get everything set up. You also introduce her to your freinds, only some of whom feel safe around her, but those who do seem to like her.

It's weird just hanging out in her dorm. She can be weirdly laid back and introspective at times, at least when she's not nervous or paranoid. But when she's just relaxing she'll tell you about things, about the beauty of the desert sands, about what it was like to observe the rattlesnakes and condors and wyverns of her homeland. How she likes to observe the city, the way the diffrent people flow through it, she was scared of it at first but now she likes to explore it, and the way it lacks stars at night but the lights from the buildings replace it. She says she wishes she could stay here forever, that she wishes she could be an artist but that she was sent here to learn skills useful to the dark lord's empire.

There's something nice about showing her new things. You get to take her to a musical for the first time. Get to show her neighborhoods you like. Get to explain to her what public transport is (though she got scared feeling trapped in a subway car). You get to show her stuff she never got to experience because orcs are never really children, she loves getting to hold a plush for the first time, or watching cartoons for the first time, it's like she's finally getting to live an experience she never had. Even though she's a well armed adult she really likes plushies once she finds out about them, they weren't something she was allowed to have back home.

Over time she starts meeting people and learning things that go against her worldview. As she makes more friends, understands new things, slowly learns that she shouldn't be punished for mistakes, she slowly comes around to seeing how fucked up the world the was raised in is. She tells you she doesn't want to worship the dark lord anymore, she cries just from saying it. You hug her, and realize she's never been hugged before, she seems to really like that feeling. She bathes in the waters of a healing goddess, and she worships something out of love instead of fear for the first time.

Eventually the spawning warlock who spawned her and her siblings comes to visit her. You told her to be careful but she ended up spilling that she doesn't worship the dark lord, she ends up spilling all the things a warlock like that considers a sin. When he leaves she tells you she can't go home. Not ever. Never again will she see the shifting sands, or flying condor, or flowing serpents of her homelands. She's trapped where she is now.

You know it hurts her a lot. She says she feels like she's in a small pocket of safety. Back home she'd be hurt for being an apostate. In human lands outside of the city she'd be hurt for being an orc. But she's safe here. She stays in her apartment for awhile, while you try to make things work. She's finally changing her major to art, and despite everything she's finally free, free to watch the starless sky, free to not be punished when she makes a mistake...