#dealing with people who think you’re literally less than human on a daily basis can make you pretty depressed guys

[firegiftlouis]

I don’t know if some white people just think Black people were built to endure the racism that permeates our society and touches our lives in every conceivable way or something, but no we weren’t, dealing with oppression and racism, especially on the level of Jim Crow, would and still does make Black people depressed. Shocker I know.

[introvert-no-chameleon]

Of Monsters and McGuckets

Fiddleford just wanted to have his morning coffee in peace, but Gravity Falls and the Stan brothers had other plans.

AO3

Fiddleford Hardon McGucket considered himself to be a patient, level-headed individual. One had to be if they ever hoped to survive Gravity Falls, and, even more daunting, live with Stanford and Stanley Pines. Keeping them in line was an occupation in itself. His co-workers were two of the most chaotic and morally questionable people he’d ever met in his life. (Then again, as someone who had once made a giant robot to terrorize his ex-wife in an admittedly misguided attempt to get her back, maybe he shouldn’t be throwing stones in that last department).

The point is, when it came to dealing with uncommon and frustrating situations, he usually managed to keep a straight head. But on one deceivingly lovely morning, just when he’d went out to the porch to sit back with a nice cup of coffee and the sun had just begun to kiss the horizon, he saw two large monsters sprinting towards the shack, and. Well.

It was only reasonable that he’d react the way he did.

The first thing he did was spit out his early-morning coffee, ruining his only clean tie in the process. The second thing he did was dash into the shack like the Devil Himself was on his heels. Lastly, he slammed the door shut, locked it, and began combing the living room for the shotgun he knew for a fact Stanley kept around. He thanked the Lord Stanford wasn’t here, lest he’d be chastising Fiddleford for “harming” (defending himself against) a perfectly healthy specimen. Never mind the fact that half of these subjects of study had tried to eat him, no sir. Scientific discovery was always more important.

(Sometimes, Fiddleford wondered how on God’s green earth Stanford Pines hadn’t fallen to his death into a ravine or some other nonsense in pursuit of an anomaly. Heaven knows the man, while undeniably brilliant, was severely lacking when it came to common sense).

A bang rattled the wooden door of the shack. Fiddleford yelped, dropping the pile of books he’d been in the process of moving in his scramble to find the gun. He eyed the secret lab entrance and wondered if the door would hold them back long enough for him to make a dash for it.

“Fidds, we saw you run in, will ya just open the door?”

Fiddleford froze. That voice, while even more gravelly than usual (a thing he hadn’t thought possible) was definitely familiar.

“Well butter my butt and call me a biscuit,” he said, dazed, as he walked over to the door and unlocked it. “Stanley?”

Upon closer inspection, he couldn’t deny that the square-jawed face that peered down at him belonged to Stanley Pines. There were some…notable…differences, such as the fact that he had glowing orbs for eyes, all his featured seemed to be carved from stone, he had ridiculous pointy ears and fangs to boot. He’d be right at home next to the gargoyles from those pictures of cathedrals he’d studied for his History of Western Art course.

“Took ya long enough,” said Stanley, ducking his head under the doorway and lumbering inside. Each step made the floorboard groan loudly, and for a few seconds Fiddleford thought the man would break through the wood floor. “Thought we’d never get back.”

“Stanferd, do ya have…fur?” said Fiddleford, stepping away from the door to let the other man in.

Stanford—it couldn’t be anyone else, not with that straight-backed posture and furrowed brow peering over thick-rimmed glasses—walked in behind him, hands behind his back.

 Hearing the question, Stanford adjusted his glasses, with a large, six-fingered paw. His facial features were lion-esque, as was his entire body, save from the colorful green, blue and red feathered wings that trailed behind his body. He even had a cute little lion tail poking out from a hole in his pants. “It appears so, yes.” He cleared his throat. “We may have a…problem.”

Stanley, who had gone to the fridge to get a beer, came back glaring at Stanford with those bright yellow orbs. “No shit, Sixer. I hadn’t fucking noticed.”

Stanford’s ears flattened against his skull. Fiddleford would’ve found it amusing if Stanford wasn’t now 7 feet tall and didn’t have large, sharp teeth. “Language, Stanley.”

Fiddleford considered grabbing some alcohol as he took in the situation. After a few attempts at forming words, he finally settled for the question he found himself asking on a near-daily basis. “What in tarnation did ya two get yerselves mixed up in now?”

“Oi, don’t look at me,” said Stan. He jerked his clawed thumb at Stanford. “Mr. Science here was the one who just had to walk right into a mysterious, glowing lake that he almost drowned in.”

Stanford’s tail twitched, and he growled. “We almost drowned, Stanley, because you turned into 300 pounds of moving stone.”

“I was only in the lake because you started flailing around growing a tail and screamin’ for help!”

Ford sniffed, chin held up in that way it got whenever he’d start getting defensive. “Swimming with wings is incredibly difficult.”

“Yeah, I would know, I have them now.” Stanley stretched out his bat-like wings for emphasis.

Judging by Stanford’s bloodshot eyes and Stanley’s slouched posture, along with the fact that they seemed even more short with each other than usual, Fiddleford guessed that they’d been arguing on and off about this for a while. He rubbed the bridge of his nose. “Now see right here, the two of ya best calm down, you’ll tear the shack apart if you start fighting bein’ like this.”

The two of them, while far from calm, quieted down.

“Right,” said Fiddleford. “So ya discovered some magic water that turns folks into monsters?”

“Yup,” said Stanley. “We found it in some hidden path behind some bushes and a couple of boulders.”

It’s almost as if it was hidden away for a reason. “Did ya at least remember where the path is?”

“Of course,” said Stanford, having the audacity to look indignant. “What do you take me for?”

“An idiot who got us turned into two walking Summerween costumes because he couldn’t just collect the water in a cup and some gloves like a normal scientist?” said Stanley.

“As if you would know what a “normal” scientist does,” said Stanford, crossing his arms over his chest.

“Alright, fellas. Let me just get some food in me and then we can go back out and get some samples,” said Fiddleford. “I need me some caffeine to deal with this.”

Stanford opened his mouth but Fiddleford stopped him with the same withering glare he’d give his son whenever he tried to step out of line. “Stanferd Pines, if ya think I’m gonna run around the woods with the two of you, in this here state, on an empty stomach, yer sorely mistaken.”

“Fidds has got a point,” said Stan. “You probably haven’t had anything other than that piece of toast since you woke up.”

“I suppose some food wouldn’t hurt…” said Stanford. “I did have an incredibly strong urge to maul a deer we spotted on the way over.”

Fiddleford was getting some bacon out of the fridge when he heard the end of the sentence. He straightened up and slammed the door with more force than strictly necessary. “Y-ya did?”

Stanford seemed to come to the same conclusion Fiddleford had, because he raised his paws up. “Oh, n-no, rest assured. I don’t have any inclination to eat you.”

“Thank the Lord…”

“After all,” said Stanford, rubbing his chin. “According to mythology, sphinxes only consume humans if they are unfortunate enough not to know the answers to their riddles.”

“Don’t I feel better,” said Fiddleford, voice dripping with sarcasm. “Do ya reckon ya can still have some bacon and eggs?”

“Yes, that’ll do,” he said. “Oh! I must write down our findings in my journal. Now, where did I put it…” Stanford went up the stairs, muttering to himself the entire way.

“Ya know, he actually started running on all fours at least twice on the way over.” Stan grinned through another sip of beer. “was the funniest thing I’ve seen all week.”

Fiddleford sighed. That would explain the fighting. He rolled his eyes as he saw Stanley reach in the fridge for another can and shut it before he could. “Stanley Pines, it is 8 o’clock in the morning.”

“Ooh,” Stanley raised his eyebrows. “Two last names in less than five minutes, it’s a new record.”

“Stanley.”

Stanley pouted, and even with his new…physical features, Fiddleford still found it endearing. “Aw, come onnnn, Fids, I’m emotionally distressed!”

“Yer no such thing.” He smiled a soon as back turned to the other man. He took out their skillet and placed it on the stove.

“Y’know, I gotta hand it to ya. You’ve gotten a lot more assertive since we’ve met, it’s kinda hot.”

“Yer flattery will not sway me into lettin’ ya get another drink.”

Stanley laughed behind him. “Yeah, yeah. I’m still bein’ serious. Ford didn’t even try to fight you about getting breakfast. If it was me, he’d be yelling at me by now about how we were wastin’ time and crap.”

“It doesn’t take much for the two of ya to get at each other’s necks.” Fiddleford cracked an egg on the edge of the skillet. Anyhow, that’s because he’s hiding away scribblin’ field notes. The moment he’s done, he’ll be tryin’ to drag us on out of here.”

“Eh, true.”

For a moment, the eggs sizzling and snapping on the pan filled the warm silence. His stomach grumbled as the savory smell of cooking food reached him. “Stanley, can ya hand me the coffeepot?”

The floorboards creaked behind Fiddleford. A shadow loomed over him. “Stanley?”

“…You’re not, uh, scared of me or nothin’?” Stanley’s voice had gotten so quiet Fiddleford had hardly heard him.

Fiddleford glanced back at Stanley, who despite his size was hunched over, looking mighty small for someone who was now a literal boulder.

“Why on earth would I be?”

Stanley blinked meekly. He gestured towards his entire body. “Uh…’cause I look like this?”

Ah. He did try to threaten them with a shotgun. Some of the unease he’d gotten rid of returned, but he tried his best not to show it. He swallowed down his fear as best as he could. “Should I be?”

Stanley frowned. “Eh, I mean, I feel different, but not in a “eat somebody” kinda way. I do have a very strong urge to perch on the roof and attack pigeons.”

“Fascinating.” Even without his caffeine, his scientific curiosity was finally starting to get the best of him. “Well, gargoyles are known as guardians meant to ward against evil. Perhaps you’ve developed some sorta protective instinct…”

He stopped mid-ramble. Even without eyes to speak of, Fiddleford could tell Stanley was avoiding his gaze.  

Fiddleford brought his hand to Stanley’s cheek. It felt warm, to his surprise, like rock that had baked under the afternoon sun. Stanley peeked up at him. “Darlin’, the only thing I’m afraid of is the damage you’ll cause around the lab if we don’t turn ya back. Yer like a bull in a china closet as it is.”

Stanley chuckled, leaning into Fiddleford’s touch. “Somebody has ta make things interesting around here.”

Something crashed overhead, quickly followed by a string of curses. A series of heavy objects thumped against the wood overhead.

“I’m alright!” called Stanford’s voice. “I simply knocked a bookshelf over my person, but this new form is surprisingly durable!”

“Things are interestin’ enough as it is,” said Fiddleford, his brief moment of curiosity gone as soon as it came. “Where in tarnation is the coffeepot?”

“Relax, Fiddlenerd, I’ll make ya a fresh one.” He went over by his side, giving him a playful shove that sent Fiddleford to the ground. “…Oops. Sorry, uh, forgot about the whole…stone thing.”

Fiddleford glowered up at his boyfriend, taking his hand as he helped Fiddleford back up. “Yer lucky a got a soft spot fer ya, else I’d be mighty cross.”

Stanly gave him the gentlest peck on the top of Fiddleford’s head. “Once I have my human body back, I’ll make it up to ya.”

Stanley gave him a cup of his precious lifeblood, black with two sugars, just as he liked it. Smirking, Fiddleford took a sip, getting warmed by more than just the coffee. “I’ll hold ya to that.”

*

Somebody please give Fiddleford a raise. 

Comment on what monster you all think Fidds should be, and I may do a second part. I've read some people make him a scarecrow, and I considered making him a centaur.

[tttinytrash]

So @shamedump, you made a mistake saying using your boys was ok. Forever ago on their blog (which if you haven’t checked them out yet you should) there was mention of Mage bitties, their Nightmare that’s more of a overly blunt but well-meaning boy than canon Nightmare, growing into biggies and a few of em running a place you could go to have them drain negativity off. They get fed, you’re less stressed, win-win! This has kinda been an idea I pop back to when I’m feeling particularly stressed and I decided that since they said using their ideas was ok with credit, I’d go for it and actually write something. So Mage, and all the subsequent ideas of how their powers work, what their body is like, (I even borrowed the mousepad analogy) and whatnot is all Dumpling. I simply extrapolated a story out of it. Any misrepresentations of the character I’ll pretend comes from the fact that they’re bitties/biggies and therefore personality can differ a little from the source material. At least, that’s what I’ll say to make myself feel better lol. 

Your cousin had dragged you to this place, and you had immediate reservations upon arrival. The place was run by biggies, which wasn’t the issue. You really just couldn’t help that they looked intimidating. 

Every biggie in the shop had black goop covering their whole form, and four extra appendages sprouting out of their back. They were somewhat taller than you, and definitely broader. Despite all this, you knew they couldn’t help their appearances and made no move to actually be scary, so you pushed the anxiety down (to join the plethora of other anxiety in the pile) as your cousin approached the desk. The biggie at the desk was pleasant enough as she checked you in for your appointment, then came back to sit in the waiting area with you.

“Just gotta wait for a chair to open, cous. This will be the best decision you’ve made all week, I swear!” She assured you as she took her seat beside yours.

You agreed absently, watching the other humans, monsters, and biggies wander through the store. The Mage biggies, as their type was called, each stood behind comfy looking chairs with their client seated before them facing a big mirror on the wall. It reminded you a lot of a hair salon, actually. One tendril from their back wrapped around each wrist, while their hands gave a shoulder massage. Actually, the one on the end of the row was braiding his client’s hair. That observation struck you as pretty cute, and managed to sap away some apprehension. 

“little less scary now?”

You all but leapt from your seat you jolted so hard.

Your cousin tried and failed to muffle a snicker at your expense as the biggie continued “whoops. sorry, wasn’t trying to sneak up on you.”

“N-no, It’s fine. Just kinda got caught people watching.” you assure, trying your best to laugh off the mortification.

“it’s fine, we get it. i’m jethro. i’ll be taking care of you today.”

“Nice to meet you, I’m y/n.”

“Ooh, such a good name!” your cousin interjected.

“heh, thanks. my adopter was into some cop show. guess my attitude back in the day reminded him of somebody. anyhow, my chair is right this way, y/n.”

Your cousin excused herself and left you to your appointment, which had been the deal. You were too nervous to wait alone at a new place, but knew you should be ok from here. Jethro guided you to one of the indeed very comfy chairs and took his position behind. His tendrils grabbed a stool from against the wall and set it behind the chair so he could sit as well. Despite being behind you, he was able to look at you easily by turning his one eyed gaze to the mirror set on the wall in front of you.

“this is your first time, right?” Jethro asked, so far keeping his hands to himself.

You confirmed that it was.

“right. so i assume there’s questions?”

“Yeah, my cousin said you guys drain negativity. How literal is that?”

“exceedingly. we can sense emotions, especially negative ones. we can also feed off of em. again, literally. we remove them through physical contact and they’re converted into magic in our bodies.”

“You guys eat our bad emotions?”

“yep.”

You realized something. “...You sense them too.”

“Yep.”

“Does that include nervousness?”

“yep.”

“So you knew I was literally scared when I walked in.”

“yep.”

“I am so sorry.” Ugh, now he probably felt how mortified you were. Now he thought you were a racist! You were far from one of those monster hating bigots! Shit, maybe you should just leave-

You flinched when two cold pressures settled on your wrists, and your mortification ebbed.

“you’re fine, told you we get it.” Jethro cut your shameful spiral short, and you realized he’d wrapped his tendrils around your arms.

The appendages were cool to the touch, and the grip was light enough you could easily break free if you had any desire to. Thing is, you didn’t. You felt the stress that had been building up simply start to vanish. It left you feeling hollow, but calm and gratitude quickly filled the void. You could definitely tell those feelings were literally being taken away from you.

“now, since i’ve absorbed those negative feelings i know roughly why you came in and i’m also here to talk you through all of it rather than just making it go away if you want. but usually people just go quiet on their first time, up to you. given your reaction here, i’m assuming you want to enjoy the clear head space awhile instead?”

You nodded, feeling ever so slightly loopy. Was that an affect of the draining?

Jethro made an amused acknowledging sound. He reached forward, using his hands to apply pressure to the tense muscles around your shoulders and neck. You melted into the pleasant touch, briefly feeling shame for so visibly reacting before that too was wicked away.

“heh, i sense a return customer.”

You smiled, oh hell yes you were.

-----

You became a regular immediately.

All the guys in the shop were great, but Jethro definitely ended up your preferred siphon, and he was who you made appointments with.

You were in a session with him now, and it was nice to have him act as a sounding board as to how to deal with you day to day stressors. You’d picked up a few calming techniques you used on a daily basis by now, and your sessions had reduced in frequency by this point. It was almost a friendly catch up session between you two whenever you made a booking, but you still absolutely appreciated his services. 

As you two casually chatted near the end of your appointment, another biggie walked out from the back room. You’d seen a few clients go back there, only to emerge hours later. That was the “Special Treatment” room, and you were curious what that entailed but had never mustered the courage to ask. This curiosity meant you were very keen on observing the biggie that had just exited and therefore delighted when he took a seat in the vacant client chair next to yours. 

Jethro greeted him as he settled, and you noticed the newcomer had his hand laid on his belly as if to steady it. 

“special treatment?” Jethro asked.

“yeah. they totally fell asleep, but i’m not gonna bother them just yet.” the other responded.

“heh, they must have needed it then. nightmares, i guess?”

“yeah. pretty bad. all the more reason to let em rest.”

The conversation drifted from there, and you eventually got looped in and belatedly introduced to the other biggie, who you learned was named Obsidian. Throughout the conversation, you didn’t miss that Obsidian had his hands folded over his middle, and kept swiping his thumb across the surface whenever the special treatment client had been referred to.

You left the store contented but all the more curious. Maybe you’d finally ask when you came back next time.

-----

God this sucked.

When it rains it pours, apparently. It started with your manager breathing down your neck at the same time a bunch of impending deadlines were looming for school. With a cherry on top of family drama, you felt like a frayed nerve.

Your next siphoning session was two weeks away, but damn did you need the support now. You’d tried your calming strategies, which while they kept a panic attack at bay weren’t enough. You’d tried handling this on your own but it just wasn’t cutting it after a few days of the stress piling up on itself in your head.

You walked into the shop, hoping beyond hope that they took walk in clients.

Obsidian was apparently slotted for receptionist duty today, and he seemed to take notice of you before you were able to even say anything. His head jerked up as if he’d heard a loud noise and once his gaze settled on you, recognition dawned quickly. “y/n? what happened?” The concern made it clear that your black cloud of anxiety was exceedingly obvious to the empath before you.

“Everything, it feels like. There wouldn’t happen to be any openings today, would there?”

“i think we can swing something. gimme a sec.” 

The biggie disappeared in a shortcut, chair rattling down from its tilted position loudly. 

You flinched at the sound at looked around the shop for reactions. There weren’t many people, two biggies had clients and were politely ignoring the commotion you felt you’d made. You recognized one of the clients distantly, but your attention was quickly diverted to two figures emerging from the staff lounge. Obsidian lead Jethro, much to your delight, towards you. Jethro’s expression softened visibly at the same time you felt the happy thrill of recognition.

The expression settled into concern again by the time he’d approached. “you’re more negative now than when we first met, kiddo.” He said instead of a greeting. Blunt, as usual.

“I believe it. Sorry to drop in without a booking-”

“you’re fine, stoppit. you apologize too much. you’re probably due for a special treatment if you’re game for it.”

You perked up despite the dark knot in your soul at the mention of the mysterious back room. Your curiosity was piqued again, and you were up to try anything to get your head back in order by this point. So decided, you nodded.

You were lead into the back room, and you eagerly took in your new environment. There were a couple huge, very plush looking beanbags in the center of the room. A water cooler was off to the side, and a little table next to it had a hot water dispenser and tea bags. There wasn’t a ton of other things here, besides a few odd indoor plants and a distinct lack of mirrors compared to the salon-esque layout outside.

You belatedly realize that Jethro was trying to get your attention, and rush to respond. “S-sorry, what?”

“was askin’ if you wanted a rundown. this is your first time back here, you outta know what you’re agreeing to for both our sakes.”

“Ok, what happens next then?”

“well, you’ll recall that we consume negative emotions, and that we run off magic just like other monsters?”

“Yeah, of course.”

“this is an extension of that. some monster types have the ability to take others into their bodies harmlessly. if i do that, i’ll be able to sap even more negativity and also tease apart what triggered the emotions. that way we can work through it more specifically than in previous sessions, plus the negativity drains quicker.”

You blinked at him. That was one of the longer spiels you’d heard from him ever, but you were lost as hell. “That sounds great, but what did you mean about the taking into...?”

“yeah, it’s pretty similar to what you’re probably thinking. i’d essentially have to eat you.” he shrugged casually, like that was obvious.

You flinched away, feeling your heart rate spike.

“we don’t have to, if you want to try a normal session.” he offered, hands in pockets and expression neutral.

You go quiet in thought and he lets you. Everything from your previous session clicked into place, and you realized that when you’d met Obsidian he’d had someone inside while you three talked. You also realized the dim recognition you’d felt in the front room was that the client in the chair today was the same that’d disappeared into the back room with Obsidian. 

The train of thought came to a halt as you realized worrying was stupid, this was Jethro for frick’s sake! You trusted him easily, so extending that trust to allow what he clearly thought was the best move for you took little effort.

“If you think it’ll help, I’m up for it.” You say, determined.

He had a soft, almost relieved smile as he nodded in reply. 

He didn’t waste any time, and wrapped you snugly in all four of his tendrils. You were surprised by how little effort it appeared to take to lift your whole form off the floor. He flopped into one of the beanbags unceremoniously. 

So that’s what those are for. you thought as you watched him settle comfortably in the soft cushion.

You couldn’t help but tense when you were brought over his upturned face, and tilted so you were almost nose to nose (...nose to nasal bone. Whatever.) with him leaving your body hanging parallel to the floor in his grip. 

You’re not afraid, but you’re certainly nervous. Until you’re just not. You’ve done this enough to know he’s siphoning the nerves away, but this time you apparently don’t have much in the way of other emotions and are left with a hollow feeling. That utter lack of emotions leaves you to do nothing beyond going limp to make the next steps easier and watch as his mouth approaches to engulf your head. You duck your head down and find it pillowed on a tongue, cool to the touch and jet black. The light is almost immediately cut off as you’re pushed deeper in by the four tendrils around your torso. 

A wet gulp squishes into your ears and you feel a pressure over the crown of your head as your skull presses into the throat. You briefly wonder how a skeleton has such human like fleshy bits but chalk it up to the ooze over his whole bony form. A tendril slid off your body as its assistance was no longer needed, leaving a cool sensation and a slight tingle akin to mint in its wake.

Another wet sound and you’re in deeper. The sounds quickly pick up and settle into a comfortable rhythm, drawing you in with apparent ease. You eventually slide into a roomier space and flip into a somewhat seated position. You hear a sigh above you, and finally curiosity, relief, and a few other emotions take up residence in your head again. 

“you good?” You hear him ask, voice close but also somewhat muffled. 

You respond in the affirmative.

“good. get comfy, do whatever you need to. once you’re settled i can stop focusing on the anxiety of this arrangement and instead deal with what brought you here.”

You scootched into a comfortable curled position and forced yourself to cycle a breath. You used your favored calming technique and found that your nervousness first came back before ebbing completely. He’d stopped siphoning it away, but you felt fine now. You decided that you could take this opportunity to feel out your new surroundings for a moment, since Jethro pretty much gave permission. You decided to start pretty literally, pushing outwards on a wall with light pressure. Your fingers sunk in, the texture was like pressing on a gel mousepad. Cool to the touch, but you weren’t about to start shivering in here. 

The whole area was dim, but the grooves in the wall dully glowed with turquoise light enough to see your surroundings and to see where your hand was in relation to the rest of you. You weren’t blind in the pitch dark, much to your relief. (Not that you had considered that issue before agreeing to be taken in.) 

You ran your hand along the wall to further investigate and found friction minimal while not feeling wet. You didn’t quite realize you were rubbing at the wall before you until you heard a light chuckle and felt an opposing pressure from outside. You understood immediately that that was his hand pressing in at you from outside and used both hands together to push at the appendage and interact. After a moment he changed to rubbing at you like you had him, asking “did you want to address what brought you in or keep on playing in there?”

“Ha, sorry. Yeah, we should start. What do I have to do?”

He let out a long suffering sigh. “y/n, you still apologize too much.” He sounded exasperated, but was also teasing you.

“S-” You were about to apologize, but caught yourself. Well shit, you didn’t know what else to say if not sorry.

Jethro laughed a little at you, before moving on to his next point. “all you have to do is relax. first i have to figure out what went on with you, then we can talk.”

You felt the difference starkly between a normal session and this one. You could feel the stress sap out of you, and what you had to imagine having your life flash before your eyes was like but instead directly related to your recent stressors. It felt like it lasted awhile while simultaneously feeling like no time had passed.

The following discussion was long, but sorely needed. By the end you felt relief, gratitude, and a renewed determination. At some point the chamber you were in had seemingly formed itself a small puddle of what was apparently liquid magic. Jethro had already explained that it was essentially the excess magical energy his body had converted your stress into, and you thought it was much less noxious in this form. It was warm to the touch and flowed like water the best you could tell in the dim light. It had a faint turquoise glow that still managed to not cast too much light just like the rest of his magic. It filled a few inches at the bottom, so while you had your legs crossed it lapped as the tops of your knees and around your hips. You scooped some of the liquid up and absently let it fall through your fingers onto your knee.

The only problem with this was that such warmth in addition to the emotional exhaustion you were already feeling combined to make you about to fall asleep. Maybe you should ask about getting out?

“you nodding off on me in there? your heart’s slowing down.” he asked, interrupting your thoughts.

“I think so. Guess I should get out.” You found that you were loathe to move, though. You stretched your legs out, pressing your feet into the opposing wall.

“i can let you out, sure.” he said easily. A pause, then he adds “unless you’d rather sleep.”

You blink. “In here? Don’t you want me out?”

You felt the wall behind you tug upwards, seeming like he shrugged. “i don’t have any other appointments today.”

“...If you don’t mind?”

“since when do i suggest anything i’m not willing to do?”

You chuckle “Fair enough. Well, thank you.” You pat the wall and reposition to a reclined, curled position.

He gives you a pat back, “don’t mention it.”

The last thought you had before sleep overtook you was that for how crap you felt before, you felt pretty good now.

[yasminbenoit]

I’m so proud to announce that I am the first-ever openly asexual person in Paper Magazine! It’s a great step for asexual visibility, I can’t believe I’m in a publication like this speaking about the importance of asexual visibility. Your support has made this happen. We are here, we are being seen. 

Spread the word! 

When we talk about the LGBTQIA+ community, there still isn't a lot of talk about the "A" portion, and that's something UK-based model and activist Yasmin Benoit is actively trying to change.

As an asexual and aromantic person, Benoit does not experience sexual or romantic attraction. And while she's spent the majority of her life comfortable with this knowledge, it's also something she knows isn't the case for many others — and a lot of this can be chalked up to a dearth of asexual and aromantic representation.

So, using the platform and visibility she built as a model, Benoit has spent the past two years making videos, writing posts, and giving talks about the topic, which is still rife with misinformation and harmful stereotypes. According to her, "when you say you don't experience romance and sexuality and that those things are, innately, not a part of you, people think you're less human," which she says is a result of the importance society places sexuality.

"[They say] you're robotic. You're psychopathic. I often get narcissistic," as Benoit explains, before launching into the misconceptions she has to deal with on a daily basis. The biggest one? Her occupation, especially when it comes to her work with lingerie, almost always elicits a confused public reaction. Even though the rationale behind modeling lingerie is simple: she likes the garments and enjoys mixing up her portfolio.

"People find it weird as an overlap, because I'm asexual," she explains. "People think if you're modeling lingerie, something sexual is going on. They don't realize I'm just standing there for a couple hours, making a little conversation and shaking hands, before I go home."

Yet despite Benoit's sound logic, she says she still, on the daily, runs into a lot of questions surrounding her job, which is "seen as an oxymoron" — likely due to the inherent sexualization of lingerie modeling. That said, she says this isn't the most troubling assumption she's had to deal with, as exemplified by the myriad of invasive questions pertaining to why she's asexual and aromantic.

"Literally, yesterday, I had a man insisting I had been molested, and I was just hiding it and repressing it," she uses as an example. "He was insistent that that was obviously my issue. They think sexual attraction is the most human thing ever, and it's impossible to not feel that. You can't be human if you don't feel anything."

Sadly though, this sort of presumptuous projection and unfounded theorization has been happening to her from before she even figured out that there was terminology for how she felt. As Benoit says, she'd constantly be "quizzed on my sexuality" from the time she was around 9.

"Once other people around me started getting more hormonal, more into dating and going out with each other, I was like, 'This is kind of silly. I just want to stick by myself and play with my Legos,'" she recalls. "I assumed it would kick in for me, but it wasn't something I encouraged."

Unfortunately, Benoit says that once people began noticing that she "wasn't reacting to things the same way" as other girls her age — talking about her crushes or fantasizing about boys — they began coming up with theories, with some people even going so far as to tell her about their hypotheses, which ranged from theories about her being gay, a religious prude, a potential survivor of sexual abuse, or "just mentally slow."

"Because I wasn't reacting like everyone else, they concluded that I was stupid," Benoit explains, also mentioning that she's had to put up with other people assuming that she was repressing sexual trauma or that she was hiding a secret perversion. "But I just didn't understand why other people were trying to work it out for me, because there wasn't really anything to work out. I hadn't been molested. I don't have sexual hang-ups. I'm not against sex. There was nothing to work out."

That said, even once she learned about asexuality and aromanticism, that apparently "didn't stop people from coming up with theories" — including her own father, who she says recently went so far as to accuse her of pedophilia. But all the naysay has also, in part, spurred Benoit to dive into the world of activism.

As Benoit started gaining traction as a model, she began toying with the idea of mentioning her asexuality online in an effort to reach others grappling with their asexuality. This all resulted in a casual post about the topic, as well as the release of a video called "Things Asexual Girls Don't Want to Hear" — something she genuinely "didn't think people would care that much about," but ended up "spiraling, because not a lot of people talk about it."

"The asexual community was very happy to see someone with a platform discussing it," Benoit explains, later adding that she had "people messaging me how much it meant to them, which [made me feel like], if doing something so simple is really impacting people's lives, I might as well keep doing it." Benoit adds that she'd love to see more asexual and aromantic role models out there, especially since the stigma is so prevalent. After all, as Benoit explains, a lack of visibility and understanding surrounding asexuality and aromanticism makes those grappling with their identities much more hesitant to "come out" — whether we're talking about men, for whom sexual desire is "seen as such a quintessential trait of masculinity," or an asexual person who doesn't want to potentially "embarass" their romantic partner.

For now though, Benoit is doing what she can, with her most prominent push toward asexual visibility so far being a hashtag she started last year called #ThisIsWhatAsexualLooksLike, which aims to "dispel the idea that theres an asexual way to look or dress."

"People often say I don't look asexual, and I don't dress asexual, but what do you think that looks like then?" she explains. "I was trying to show the diversity of the community and, at the same time, give a tool back to others, so that they can represent themselves without relying on the media."

"There is a lot of stigma still around, so asexual people can go decades without realizing there's a word for what they're not feeling."

That said, Benoit's also quick to posit that while her asexuality and aromanticism have "never been a secret," it took her until that point to "realize I was filling a space and providing that visibility, especially for asexual minorities." That said, she also mentions that being a Black asexual activist is also an especially tenunous task, as there's a huge racial disparity when it comes to visibility.

"People perceive my asexuality differently than white asexual people," Benoit says, before mentioning the televised version of a documentary that she was cut out of — something she believes is "reflective of people higher up in the company who looked at us and was like, 'She doesn't make sense.'"

However, in the uncut version posted online, Benoit said the comments about her were much more "sexually aggressive and racialized" than what the other white activists got. "There was a lot more anger directed at me," she says. "People find it harder to compute that a Black woman can be asexual just because we're hypersexualized a lot more."

And though she acknowledges the difficulties of being a Black activist, Benoit says she's undeterred in her mission to continue spreading visibility and tackling the misconceptions and stigma surrounding asexuality and aromanticism. Her next steps? According to Benoit, she's currently working on a BBC radio series about asexuality, starring in another documentary about the topic, and potentially doing more talks at sex-positivity conferences and international Pride events. However, she's also eager to help organize more events in the UK that would provide physical spaces for asexual and aromantic people to convene and feel seen as well as supported by others.

"There is a lot of stigma [and misconception] still around, so even asexual people can go decades without realizing there's a word for what they're not feeling," Benoit says. "That has to change."

Article written by Sandra Song.

Hair & MUA: Fey Adediji (@beautybyfey_) Photography: Matt Parker (@mtyparks) Lingerie: Playful Promises Model: Yasmin Benoit (@theyasminbenoit)

[watchtower-feed]

Living with Tim Drake

Notes: I got request for Damian and SO moving in together (which I will get to some day). But then I kept thinking about Tim and how I haven’t shown him much love lately. So I wanted to do a little character study of him. Words: 1,818

     You didn’t expect a message so quickly. After all, you just posted the ad for a roommate an hour ago. You texted back saying you’re free to talk and your phone buzzes in your hand. You quickly answer, bracing yourself for what kind of freak is in need of a place to stay so urgently.

     “Hello. This is Tim. I’m a college graduate and currently doing an internship at Wayne. Your place is really close by so it’s perfect for my commute.”

     Wayne is a little more than 5 kilometers away from your place. Definitely a length you wouldn’t like to walk on a daily basis. Especially since your neighborhood isn’t the best. But hey, it still beats Crime Alley and Arkham, right?

     “Hi, Tim. This is Y/N. But you obviously already know that. So I’m going to do a quick background check before I send you my address. I mean, you understand, right?”

     “Oh, definitely,” he answers right away but you could almost hear his nerves. He goes quiet for a bit and then you hear a notification that someone just sent you a message. “I don’t really have any social media accounts or anything--” You’re suspicious already. “But I am in the Gotham Gazette a lot.”

     “What?” you instinctively say. Not thinking. Ignoring the image of the screenshot he sent you. “What did you say your last name was?” You’re already flipping open your laptop and opening the Gazette website.

     “Drake. Wayne. I’m Timothy Drake-Wayne.”

     When he shows up at your door with a single duffle bag that wouldn’t even fit all of your pants, you greet him with a raised brow. “You know, I really thought this was going to be some sort of practical joke but you are him.”

     He laughs nervously, “Yeah… Living with that nightmare every day.”

     You stare him from inside your apartment before you laugh and let him in. You lounge over the kitchen counter and offer him some coffee. His eyes instantly brighten up at the caffeine rush.

     “This is really good.”

     “Yeah? I work at a cafe nearby and it turns out I like making coffee.”

     He looks at your set up behind him, a small commercial espresso machine with an extract bar with two spouts and a steam nozzle to warm up the milk, and a coffee grinder filled to the brim with whole coffee beans.

     He looks back at you quickly. “Please let me live here,” he blurts out with full conviction. It stuns you and then you laugh. “I’ll pay double your asking price.”

     You stop laughing then. “Deal.”

     Tim settles in quickly in your apartment since he doesn’t have too many things. A week’s worth of clothes, his laptop, two pairs of shoes, and some toiletries. 

     You had a roommate before him but she just disappeared half a year ago. You called her family and it turns out that she ran off with a lover. You thought she would be back in a month’s time but 6 months have gone by and her advance payments are about to run out.

     Needless to say, Timothy Drake-Wayne is now sleeping in a pastel purple bedroom littered with motivation posters and 30-Day challenge workouts.

     “You can take them down, you know.”

     Tim shrugs, “I kind of like them. They help me get up in the morning.”

     You roll your eyes.“Yeah sure.” Tim is not a morning person. He only thinks he is. He’ll wake up past noon. Then when you get home, he’ll greet you good morning even when it’s dark outside.

     “Is that a cut?”

     Without thinking about it, your hand reaches out to brush back his bangs and look at what is actually a gash on his forehead. “Tim, it’s still bleeding. Wash it!!”

     Before he could reply, you go to the bathroom to retrieve the first aid kit. You start fussing over the antiseptic, cotton, and gauze while he’s just staring at you. “Tim, wash it under the sink,” you repeat.

     A little dazed, Tim finally gets up and goes to the sink. You wait for him to finish, with a towel ready to dry his face. As soon as he’s done, you start dabbing the antiseptic on his forehead.

     “Hey. That doesn’t hurt.”

     You make a grim face, a look of disgust really. “Is that why you didn’t treat it? Because you’re afraid it’ll hurt.”

     He laughs, “No no. It’s just-- Usually when Alfred does this, it stings.”

     There are so many things you want to say to that. Who’s Alfred? Why don’t you tend to your own wounds? What happened? But instead, you say, “Do you often get into fights at Wayne or something? I always thought the people there are either frail-bodied nerds or millionaires too afraid to mess up their cuticles.”

     Tim laughs a little louder, “Why does it have to be at Wayne? I could have gotten this while saving children from a human trafficking ring down by the docks.” He raises an eyebrow at you.

     You narrow your eyes, unamused, “What a coincidence. After work, I just put the Joker back in Arkham Asylum.”

     He shakes his laughter, making it harder for you to put the gauze on. So you grab his chin to keep him steady and then expertly placed it on his gash with one hand. His eyes follow your hands, making him appear cross-eyed and you almost laugh. Then his eyes widen.

     “Wait a minute. Did you just get off work? It’s almost 6? PM?”

     You roll your eyes but you don’t really meddle with his sleeping schedule. He usually leaves the apartment when the sun is coming down and you never hear him come in. But you just assume his internship at Wayne is at night. 

     You wonder if he gets paid for it because he comes in 7 days a week, every night and sometimes even in the afternoon (or god forbid in the morning). But he doesn’t really need the money so maybe it’s a family obligation thing?

     Sometimes though, like once or twice a month, he gets a day off. He’ll sit with you on the couch while you drink the mochas you made and binge-watch NCIS.

     “You know…” you say one day, hugging your mug to yourself. “You never did tell me why you chose to live here.”

     “I did, didn’t I? It’s close to Wayne--”

     “Bullshit,” you call out. “I get that you bike to work so it’s an easy commute but you own part of Wayne. I know you can get a driver to get you there or work from home or not work at all if you wanted to.”

     Tim looks at you for a moment before he goes quiet. He’s staring into his mug and lightly shaking it to watch the liquid move around inside.

     You suddenly want to slap yourself, “I’m sorry. It’s not my place to know--”

     “No, it’s okay,” he says, smiling. He places the mug on the coffee table. He grabs the remote to lower the volume down and then hunches with his elbows resting on his knees as he stares at the screen.

     “It was just good timing when I saw your post. It was getting a little crowded at the manor.”

     You keep looking at him and wonder if you should stop him. This almost looks painful for him but Tim keeps going.

     “When I first got there, I was the only one there. Dick has his own place. Jason was--” he shrugs, “It was just me, Bruce, and Alfred.” Alfred, you now know, was actually their butler, but Tim talks about him more like a parent, to both him and Bruce Wayne.

     “It was great. Mostly quiet. Peaceful. And then like a hurricane, all of them just came, one by one. Dick, Jason, and then Damian. It was a nightmare. We were at each other’s throat. Literally!” he’s staring wide-eyed at you, half-hoping you’ll know he’s telling you the truth. “And I couldn’t get a single good night’s sleep. I just-- I needed my own place. Away from them.”

     Tim releases this long sigh, one that feels like he’s been keeping for a while. “When it was just me, Bruce, and Alfred, I never noticed it because I was too self-absorbed-- about the adoption and the--” he looks at you like a deer caught in the headlights then coughs and continues, “I didn’t notice that they weren’t as happy as I was. That they were in silent mourning.”

     “So when my brothers were at the manor, Bruce and Alfred-- They were shocked but I’ve never seen them look happier. It was so small, almost barely a hint of a smile. And I just--” He sighs again, this time leaning back to rest his head against the couch. “So I feel a little guilty about leaving.”

     You wait in case Tim had more things to get off his chest. This is the first you’ve heard him talk in broken sentences. He’s usually a lot more composed that his sentences are always grammatically correct, full-structured, and well-phrased. Like listening to an essay.

     When he doesn’t say anything more, you ask, “Do you regret leaving?”

     Tim Drake stares at the ceiling. He visits the manor every now and then but not much has changed. They’re still fighting a lot, with less intent to kill, but still enough to seriously maim. But really he misses seeing Alfred every day, helping him in the garden and eating his home cooking. 

     And Bruce. He wonders if Bruce is doing fine. If he’s happy Jason is back or proud to finally have his own son fighting side by side with him. He hopes Bruce’s is a little upset he left. He wishes he’d mourn for him a little like he did with Dick and Jason.

     But is he happy? Tim was feeling overwhelmed by the past that his brothers brought back with them. So much pain, regrets, and hatred. He never knew families could be so complicated. One minute they wanted to murder each other and the next they’re risking their own lives to save you. ‘Do I regret it?’ he wonders. ‘Do I regret doing what Dick and Jason have done, leaving the nest-- the cave and the Titans-- to find my own way of life? My own path?’ 

     ‘Not one bit.‘

     Then he turns to you with every intention of saying just that. He looks at you while you hold your white Superman mug in your hand, your lips hovering over the rim and the steam rises up to your face. He watches the light smoke dance as your breath goes in and out.

     Your eyes are staring at him with your hair hanging down, framing your face. He watches your cheeks slowly go red and your eyes widen. You look away, missing the same shade of red covering Tim’s cheeks.

     “Crap.”

✧ Watchtower Masterlist ✧  

[traumasurvivorshelpingsurvivors]

(TW for meds, insomnia, hospital, accident, death, pandemic, violence) This is an ask for reassurance and advice. I currently take medicine that was prescribed to me after my trauma to treat insomnia. I thought this would just be a "band-aid" solution but it feels like life kept spiraling downhill and I've had to continue to stay on the med for now. I won't get into the details but after my first trauma (which was a personal trauma, no one else was hurt or impacted but me), I then had a (1/10)

sudden death in the family, my mom was paralyzed after an accident, and I also had to start taking care of a family member in the late stages of Alzheimer's. When my mom was paralyzed and my other family member died, I was put on a psychiatric waiver from my classes because my school said I was too unstable to keep attending. I tried to seek help from my school's counseling center twice. The first time, they wouldn't see me because I wasn't enrolled at the time (this was after my first trauma which involved hospitalization so I wasn't taking classes).

The second time (after the death + accident + becoming a caretaker), they literally said that my problems were "too severe" for them to deal with but wouldn't give me any other resources. So rather than receiving proper long-term counseling, I've had to rely on my medicine. Like I mentioned, it's prescribed to me by a doctor, I don't abuse it, I'm on a small dose, and I don't get any side effects from it. But I just see it as a personal failure because I think to myself "If only I had gotten better help before, I wouldn't be relying on medication now." Plus even with medication due to my life being so unstable I still encounter issues with sleep and have sleep-related anxiety in general. I don't feel ready to come off my medication for now, because I feel like a change in medication would be a bad idea given my current circumstances and tbh the pandemic has made things that were already stressful even more stressful, for example there's been vaccine shortages where I live, lots of fights and violence in broad daylight, and just... really bad policies that have kept the pandemic out of control compared to other places.

I'm not living in a stable environment, I've always hated this city and the pandemic made me realize just how little I can keep tolerating it. I'm currently going to a new school I'm hopefully graduating from soon and still get extreme stress on a daily basis thanks to having to take care of my family members on top of loads of schoolwork. I did see a counselor (only short-term though because they ended up moving out of this country) who said my dose is safe and that they believe that once I eliminate some of the stressors from my life (like finally graduating school and leaving this bad environment) and can focus on my trauma recovery without as much stress, I will eventually not need the medicine anymore, and will be able to gradually wean off of it.

I have researched about this online and would do it carefully under the guidance of a medical professional, plus like I mentioned before I'm on a low dose and never abuse it. There's been times where I've fallen asleep without it and also some times where I've been able to go for months on a reduced dose comfortably, until some obstacle sets me back and I'm back to feeling like I need the full dose again. I still have a LOT of fear like "What if I'm STILL too mentally messed up even after life gets less stressful for me? What if I run into new traumas? What if it's too difficult for me to stop needing my medicine to sleep? What if the problem is all ME and I'm just this messed up person beyond repair who failed at being a human thanks to my trauma ruining me?" and I get extremely, overwhelmingly panicked over those thoughts literally every day.

One fear in particular that I have is that I know when my relative with Alzheimer's dies, it will be absolutely devastating. I just wish my initial trauma would have never happened to me, because now it feels like my brain is far too messed up to handle ANYTHING else, whether it's just school or if it's something more serious like more deaths/accidents in the family. I feel like if someone else were going through this I would support them and encourage them but I can't give my brain the same treatment I would give to someone else. I just feel like I'm stuck in this situation and it all goes back to not getting the right help from the right people at the right time.

Can I have some advice and reassurance about how to approach all of this? (Also, I wanted to add that I have severe health anxiety, so if possible I would appreciate if you could please try to avoid saying things that would make my anxiety worse in regards to health topics since I see a lot of "worst case scenario" type stuff online that causes me to panic and I want to focus on positive possibilities instead, please) Thanks!

---

Hi Anon,

First of all, it sounds like you’re dealing with a lot of stress and holding up really well considering that. I know it may feel like you’re not doing well at all, but it sounds like you’re still getting through school and taking care of family, both of which are not easy things. You should feel good about the fact you’re doing a lot better than many people would be in the same situation.

The fact that you are taking a medication isn’t a failure at all. If someone was depressed and taking an anti-depressant medication to treat it, that wouldn’t be a sign of weakness. If someone had a lactose intolerance and sometimes took a medication so they could eat cheese while minimizing the effects, that wouldn’t be “wrong”.

It sounds like your school’s counselling center failed you. That really sucks. But it isn’t your fault that they wouldn’t help you or even get you access to other resources - it sounds like you did what you could to get help, especially considering everything that you were going through.

You are not a failure because you need a bit of help, especially with everything you are handling right now. It would have been great if you had gotten the help you needed before, but now you should be focused on doing what you can to reduce the stress in your life. Graduating school is obviously a big thing you can do to help yourself. But also, if there is a way you can get more help taking care of family, you may want to make use of that. If there’s another way to access counselling, you may to try that. If meditation, mindfulness exercises, or any other stress management techniques are helpful to you, those are a possibility as well.

There is no shame at all in taking a medication to help you sleep, but I also have confidence that things will get better and you will be able to wean off of it in the future (but it’s okay if you decide not to do this, too). You’re doing great. Things will get better.

You’ve got this.

- Mod Ess

[lastsonlost]

Crossing the divide

Do men really have it easier? These transgender guys found the truth was more complex.

In the 1990s, the late Stanford neuroscientist Ben Barres transitioned from female to male. He was in his 40s, mid-career, and afterward he marveled at the stark changes in his professional life. Now that society saw him as male, his ideas were taken more seriously. He was able to complete a whole sentence without being interrupted by a man. A colleague who didn’t know he was transgender even praised his work as “much better than his sister’s.”

Clinics have reported an increase in people seeking medical gender transitions in recent years, and research suggests the number of people identifying as transgender has risen in the past decade. Touchstones such as Caitlyn Jenner’s transition, the bathroom controversy, and the Amazon series “Transparent” have also made the topic a bigger part of the political and cultural conversation.

But it is not always evident when someone has undergone a transition — especially if they have gone from female to male.

“The transgender guys have a relatively straightforward process — we just simply add testosterone and watch their bodies shift,” said Joshua Safer, executive director at the Center for Transgender Medicine and Surgery at Mount Sinai Health System and Icahn School of Medicine in New York. “Within six months to a year they start to virilize — getting facial hair, a ruddier complexion, a change in body odor and a deepening of the voice.”

Transgender women have more difficulty “passing”; they tend to be bigger-boned and more masculine-looking, and these things are hard to reverse with hormone treatments, Safer said. “But the transgender men will go get jobs and the new boss doesn’t even know they’re trans.”

We spoke with four men who transitioned as adults to the bodies in which they feel more comfortable. Their experiences reveal that the gulf between how society treats women and men is in many ways as wide now as it was when Barres transitioned. But their diverse backgrounds provide further insight into how race and ethnicity inform the gender divide in subtle and sometimes surprising ways.

(Their words have been lightly edited for space and clarity.)

‘I’ll never call the police again’

Trystan Cotten, 50, Berkeley, Calif.

Professor of gender studies at California State University Stanislaus and editor of Transgress Press, which publishes books related to the transgender experience. Transitioned in 2008.

Life doesn’t get easier as an African American male. The way that police officers deal with me, the way that racism undermines my ability to feel safe in the world, affects my mobility, affects where I go. Other African American and Latino Americans grew up as boys and were taught to deal with that at an earlier age. I had to learn from my black and brown brothers about how to stay alive in my new body and retain some dignity while being demeaned by the cops.

One night somebody crashed a car into my neighbor’s house, and I called 911. I walk out to talk to the police officer, and he pulls a gun on me and says, “Stop! Stop! Get on the ground!” I turn around to see if there’s someone behind me, and he goes, “You! You! Get on the ground!” I’m in pajamas and barefoot. I get on the ground and he checks me, and afterward I said, “What was that all about?” He said, “You were moving kind of funny.” Later, people told me, “Man, you’re crazy. You never call the police.”

I get pulled over a lot more now. I GOT PULLED OVER MORE IN THE FIRST TWO YEARS AFTER MY TRANSITION THAN I DID THE ENTIRE 20 YEARS I WAS DRIVING BEFORE THAT.

Before, when I’d been stopped, even for real violations like driving 100 miles an hour, I got off. In fact, when it happened in Atlanta the officer and I got into a great conversation about the Braves. Now the first two questions they ask are: Do I have any weapons in the car, and am I on parole or probation?

Being a black man has changed the way I move in the world.

I used to walk quickly or run to catch a bus. Now I walk at a slower pace, and if I’m late I don’t dare rush. I am hyper-aware of making sudden or abrupt movements, especially in airports, train stations and other public places. I avoid engaging with unfamiliar white folks, especially white women. If they catch my eye, white women usually clutch their purses and cross the street. While I love urban aesthetics, I stopped wearing hoodies and traded my baggy jeans, oversized jerseys and colorful skullcaps for closefitting jeans, khakis and sweaters. These changes blunt assumptions that I’m going to snatch purses or merchandise, or jump the subway turnstile. The less visible I am, the better my chances of surviving.

But it’s not foolproof. I’m an academic sitting at a desk so I exercise where I can. I walked to the post office to mail some books and I put on this 40-pound weight vest that I walk around in. It was about 3 or 4 in the afternoon and I’m walking back and all of a sudden police officers drove up, got out of their car, and stopped. I had my earphones on so I didn’t know they were talking to me. I looked up and there’s a helicopter above. And now I can kind of see why people run, because you might live if you run, even if you haven’t done anything. This was in Emeryville, one of the wealthiest enclaves in Northern California, where there’s security galore. Someone had seen me walking to the post office and called in and said they saw a Muslim with an explosives vest. One cop, a white guy, picked it up and laughed and said, “Oh, I think I know what this is. This is a weight belt.”

It’s not only humiliating, but it creates anxiety on a daily basis. Before, I used to feel safe going up to a police officer if I was lost or needed directions. But I don’t do that anymore. I hike a lot, and if I’m out hiking and I see a dead body, I’ll keep on walking. I’ll never call the police again.

‘It now feels as though I am on my own’

Zander Keig, 52, San Diego

Coast Guard veteran. Works at Naval Medical Center San Diego as a clinical social work case manager. Editor of anthologies about transgender men. Started transition in 2005.

Prior to my transition, I was an outspoken radical feminist. I spoke up often, loudly and with confidence.

I was encouraged to speak up. I was given awards for my efforts, literally — it was like, “Oh, yeah, speak up, speak out.” When I speak up now, I am often given the direct or indirect message that I am “mansplaining,” “taking up too much space” or “asserting my white male heterosexual privilege.” Never mind that I am a first-generation Mexican American, a transsexual man, and married to the same woman I was with prior to my transition.

I find the assertion that I am now unable to speak out on issues I find important offensive and I refuse to allow anyone to silence me. My ability to empathize has grown exponentially, because I now factor men into my thinking and feeling about situations.

Prior to my transition, I rarely considered how men experienced life or what they thought, wanted or liked about their lives.

I have learned so much about the lives of men through my friendships with men, reading books and articles by and for men and through the men I serve as a licensed clinical social worker.

Social work is generally considered to be “female dominated,” with women making up about 80 percent of the profession in the United States. Currently I work exclusively with clinical nurse case managers, but in my previous position, as a medical social worker working with chronically homeless military veterans — mostly male — who were grappling with substance use disorder and severe mental illness, I was one of a few men among dozens of women.

Plenty of research shows that life events, medical conditions and family circumstances impact men and women differently. But when I would suggest that patient behavioral issues like anger or violence may be a symptom of trauma or depression, it would often get dismissed or outright challenged. The overarching theme was “men are violent” and there was “no excuse” for their actions.

I do notice that some women do expect me to acquiesce or concede to them more now: Let them speak first, let them board the bus first, let them sit down first, and so on. I also notice that in public spaces men are more collegial with me, which they express through verbal and nonverbal messages: head lifting when passing me on the sidewalk and using terms like “brother” and “boss man” to acknowledge me. As a former lesbian feminist, I was put off by the way that some women want to be treated by me, now that I am a man, because it violates a foundational belief I carry, which is that women are fully capable human beings who do not need men to acquiesce or concede to them.

What continues to strike me is the significant reduction in friendliness and kindness now extended to me in public spaces. It now feels as though I am on my own: No one, outside of family and close friends, is paying any attention to my well-being.

I can recall a moment where this difference hit home. A couple of years into my medical gender transition, I was traveling on a public bus early one weekend morning. There were six people on the bus, including me. One was a woman. She was talking on a mobile phone very loudly and remarked that “men are such a–holes.” I immediately looked up at her and then around at the other men. Not one had lifted his head to look at the woman or anyone else. The woman saw me look at her and then commented to the person she was speaking with about “some a–hole on the bus right now looking at me.” I was stunned, because I recall being in similar situations, but in the reverse, many times: A man would say or do something deemed obnoxious or offensive, and I would find solidarity with the women around me as we made eye contact, rolled our eyes and maybe even commented out loud on the situation. I’m not sure I understand why the men did not respond, but it made a lasting impression on me.

‘I took control of my career’

Chris Edwards, 49, Boston

Advertising creative director, public speaker and author of the memoir “Balls: It Takes Some to Get Some.” Transitioned in his mid-20s.

When I began my transition at age 26, a lot of my socialization came from the guys at work. For example, as a woman, I’d walk down the hall and bump into some of my female co-workers, and they’d say, “Hey, what’s up?” and I’d say, “Oh, I just got out of this client meeting. They killed all my scripts and now I have to go back and rewrite everything, blah blah blah. What’s up with you?” and then they’d tell me their stories. As a guy, I bump into a guy in the hall and he says, “What’s up?” and I launch into a story about my day and he’s already down the hall. And I’m thinking, well, that’s rude. So, I think, okay, well, I guess guys don’t really share, so next time I’ll keep it brief. By the third time, I realized you just nod.

The creative department is largely male, and the guys accepted me into the club. I learned by example and modeled my professional behavior accordingly. For example, I kept noticing that if guys wanted an assignment they’d just ask for it. If they wanted a raise or a promotion they’d ask for it. This was a foreign concept to me. As a woman, I never felt that it was polite to do that or that I had the power to do that. But after seeing it happen all around me I decided that if I felt I deserved something I was going to ask for it too. By doing that, I took control of my career. It was very empowering.

Apparently, people were only holding the door for me because I was a woman rather than out of common courtesy as I had assumed. Not just men, women too. I learned this the first time I left the house presenting as male, when a woman entered a department store in front of me and just let the door swing shut behind her. I was so caught off guard I walked into it face first.

When you’re socially transitioning, you want to blend in, not stand out, so it’s uncomfortable when little reminders pop up that you’re not like everybody else. I’m expected to know everything about sports. I like sports but I’m not in deep like a lot of guys. For example, I love watching football, but I never played the sport (wasn’t an option for girls back in my day) so there is a lot I don’t know. I remember the first time I was in a wedding as a groomsman. I was maybe three years into my transition and I was lined up for photos with all the other guys. And one of them shouted, “High school football pose!” and on cue everybody dropped down and squatted like the offensive line, and I was like, what the hell is going on? It was not instinctive to me since I never played. I tried to mirror what everyone was doing, but when you see the picture I’m kind of “offsides,” so to speak.

The hormones made me more impatient. I had lots of female friends and one of the qualities they loved about me was that I was a great listener. After being on testosterone, they informed me that my listening skills weren’t what they used to be. Here’s an example: I’m driving with one of my best friends, Beth, and I ask her “Is your sister meeting us for dinner?” Ten minutes later she’s still talking and I still have no idea if her sister is coming. So finally, I couldn’t take it anymore, and I snapped and said, “IS SHE COMING OR NOT?” And Beth was like, “You know, you used to like hearing all the backstory and how I’d get around to the answer. A lot of us have noticed you’ve become very impatient lately and we think it’s that damn testosterone!” It’s definitely true that some male behavior is governed by hormones. Instead of listening to a woman’s problem and being empathetic and nodding along, I would do the stereotypical guy thing — interrupt and provide a solution to cut the conversation short and move on. I’m trying to be better about this.

People ask if being a man made me more successful in my career. My answer is yes — but not for the reason you might think. As a man, I was finally comfortable in my own skin and that made me more confident. At work I noticed I was more direct: getting to the point, not apologizing before I said anything or tiptoeing around and trying to be delicate like I used to do. In meetings, I was more outspoken. I stopped posing my thoughts as questions. I’d say what I meant and what I wanted to happen instead of dropping hints and hoping people would read between the lines and pick up on what I really wanted. I was no longer shy about stating my opinions or defending my work. When I gave presentations I was brighter, funnier, more engaging. Not because I was a man. Because I was happy.

‘People assume I know the answer’

Alex Poon, 26, Boston

Project manager for Wayfair, an online home goods company. Alex is in the process of his physical transition; he did the chest surgery after college and started taking testosterone this spring.

Traditional Chinese culture is about conforming to your elders’ wishes and staying within gender boundaries. However, I grew up in the U.S., where I could explore my individuality and my own gender identity. When I was 15 I was attending an all-girls high school where we had to wear skirts, but I felt different from my peers. Around that point we began living with my Chinese grandfather towards the end of his life. He was so traditional and deeply set in his ways. I felt like I couldn’t cut my hair or dress how I wanted because I was afraid to upset him and have our last memories of each other be ruined.

Genetics are not in my favor for growing a lumberjack-style beard. Sometimes, Chinese faces are seen as “soft” with less defined jaw lines and a lack of facial fair. I worry that some of my feminine features like my “soft face” will make it hard to present as a masculine man, which is how I see myself. Instead, when people meet me for the first time, I’m often read as an effeminate man.

My voice has started cracking and becoming lower. Recently, I’ve been noticing the difference between being perceived as a woman versus being perceived as a man. I’ve been wondering how I can strike the right balance between remembering how it feels to be silenced and talked over with the privileges that come along with being perceived as a man. Now, when I lead meetings, I purposefully create pauses and moments where I try to draw others into the conversation and make space for everyone to contribute and ask questions.

People now assume I have logic, advice and seniority. They look at me and assume I know the answer, even when I don’t. I’ve been in meetings where everyone else in the room was a woman and more senior, yet I still got asked, “Alex, what do you think? We thought you would know.” I was at an all-team meeting with 40 people, and I was recognized by name for my team’s accomplishments. Whereas next to me, there was another successful team led by a woman, but she was never mentioned by name. I went up to her afterward and said, “Wow, that was not cool; your team actually did more than my team.” The stark difference made me feel uncomfortable and brought back feelings of when I had been in the same boat and not been given credit for my work.

When people thought I was a woman, they often gave me vague or roundabout answers when I asked a question. I’ve even had someone tell me, “If you just Googled it, you would know.” But now that I’m read as a man, I’ve found people give me direct and clear answers, even if it means they have to do some research on their own before getting back to me.

A part of me regrets not sharing with my grandfather who I truly am before he passed away. I wonder how our relationship might have been different if he had known this one piece about me and had still accepted me as his grandson. Traditionally, Chinese culture sees men as more valuable than women. Before, I was the youngest granddaughter, so the least important. Now, I’m the oldest grandson. I think about how he might have had different expectations or tried to instill certain traditional Chinese principles upon me more deeply, such as caring more about my grades or taking care of my siblings and elders. Though he never viewed me as a man, I ended up doing these things anyway.

Zander Keig contributed to this article in his personal capacity. The opinions expressed in this are the author’s own and do not reflect the view of the Department of Defense.

--------

Old story worth a repost SOURCE

[sunflowersareonfire]

I miss you, but I am angry with you

I don't think you'll ever read this. And if you did read it, you'd likely get mad. You'd probably feel that this is passive aggressive, or petty, and you'd likely reach out to your brother, your friends, or whomever to validate that feeling. While you're busy confirming your bias, you're missing the point of the message, and post, and what is being expressed.

What you did was shitty. It was, and continues to be, inconsistent with who you are as a person. I deserved better than how you handled things, and your reluctance to experience conflict with me is not an excuse for being mean.

You said you couldn't face me. I respected it. You said we'd talk about things, but at some unknown time. That's just another open ended promise that you'll never keep.

In short. I feel like you led me on. I feel like you loved an idea rather than me. You accused me of disrespecting your boundaries when I was offering a genuine and legitimate offer for compromise.

But you scuttled all of your feelings. You withdrew. You backed completely away from me, and us. And then from my perspective, expected me not to be mad, or upset.

What's more, is that you discarded me just like you discarded others who have - in fact - treated you like shit, and disrespected your boundaries.

You said you had no time for me. "I just don't have the energy," you'd say, when I would ask if we were okay. Which you'd say "we are fine, it's not you." But you lied. And worse still, is you had the "energy" to bail your fuckboy friend out of bad relationships, and befriend his multiple girlfriends, and whatever else.

What you've shown me is that you have the energy to deal with a person who doesn't respect your boundaries (as he's asked to have sex with you on a daily and weekly basis for more than a year, even when we were together), but you put no energy to in having basic conversations with me?

You slow burned our relationship. You blocked me on social media, but said we were still friends. I've seen you do the same thing to other people that deserved it, so what did I do to deserve any of your actions?

I'm not your friend. I was a point in time distraction from your problems.

I struggle not to wonder if you ever loved me, or if all that you said was your affection towards the idea of a life with me, or as your best friend.

I promised I'd always be in your life.

But why should I keep that promise, when you aren't? You put no effort into this relationship. I'm lucky if you respond within two weeks, and you don't take the time to talk to me, much less ask how I am.

I'm grateful for the birthday wishes, but what I'd really like is for you to be a decent human being, and have that conflict with me so that we can get past it.

When can we be friends again?

Why do you prefer shitty people?

I'm the one single fucking person that has ever respected your boundaries. Literally, ever single one of them. Contrary to your absurd suggestion, a request for compromise is not a violation of boundaries. I own the fact that I came across aggressively.

You were supposed to be different than everyone else. You were supposed to be better.

What's worse, is that I know you are. Because I've seen it. I lived it. I experienced it. It's what I fell in love with.

Not in a vindictive way, but I hope that if you do read this, that you feel angry. But not at me. At yourself. I hope that you reflect back on the fact that any time you said you needed space, I gave it. When you said stop, I did. When you said I needed to work on myself, I did. I encouraged space, I encouraged individuality, I encouraged freedom. I didn't ask for anything other than consistency, compromise, and communication. I have been there when you needed, without hesitation, with pause, without grief.

So what the fuck did I do wrong?

Why is it that you can give eight months of conversation to a man you barely knew, met once face to face, to reiterate to him that you don't want a relationship with him?

Why is it that you can give a year of "no's" to on a constant request to leave me for him, to have sex with you?

Why is that you can give three months of facetime conversations to a man you had a crush on back in the day to "weed out" and "close out" your feelings, and theirs?

But you don't have the time, energy, or consideration enough to do that with me?

Why don't I deserve the benefit of a conversation, and closure?

You were my best friend. I fell in love with you.

And out of all of the relationships that I have had, romantic, familial, friendships, this one fucking burns the most.

I miss you. But I am angry as hell at you. I'm even angrier at myself for continuing to love you in spite of the way that you've treated me.

[himbeaux-on-ice]

Sorry! Lehner had around a 10 minute rant today about how he feels like the NHL lied to the players about loosening up the restrictions placed on teams and forced teams to get the Covid Vaccine. ESPN and the New York Post released an article about it today.

(this is a follow-up on this ask)

Ah okay, I found a TSN article about it, which covers the fact that he also apologized for some of his remarks (mainly comparing the restrictions to being “like prison” which is a bit cringe when you’re a millionaire in a free hotel, yeah), and also significantly clarified some of the intent behind what he was trying to say at the presser:

I’m gonna put my full thoughts this under a cut because it’s ended up running pretty long and rambly, but tl;dr: after considering his more precisely clarified points here and with the perspective I know he’s coming from, I can honestly see and empathize with what Lehner seems to be expressing here about how the NHL has chosen to handle player vaccinations and informing them about what that means for the restrictions on their lives, and I actually don’t disagree with his criticisms overall. Some of the phrasing could have been better, but he’s acknowledged that too.

All in all, it sounds like the NHL may have done a poor job of honestly managing expectations around what vaccine rollout would mean for the extra restrictions placed on the players and their families with each team, and that they’re also up to some version of their usual NHL schtick of prioritizing some platonic ideal of Competitive Parity (remember “the Vancouver Canucks will play a 56 game season”, anyone?) above all else, even when that is no longer realistic and/or comes at the expense of the short-term and long-term mental and physical wellbeing of the players. Classic NHL.

Right, so, long thoughts are down here. Also gonna copy the majority of his comments directly because I think it’s worthwhile for people to read exactly what he said:

"As I’m frustrated like a lot of people in the world right now everything didn’t come out of today’s press in the right way," Lehner wrote. "Main point is that we need to start take the mental health important as well In this situation. It has a huge impact on everyone in society right now. To put competitive edge before well being of people's lives is wrong. As I said, people are struggling with many different things mentally and we need to consider that, as well. Then, being lied to makes it worse."

I love hockey and the league has done a lot of good things," Lehner continued. "But this missed the mark. My bad to say it’s like prison and I apologize, but with mental health issues that are developing in the world, it develops problems mentally. We will see exactly how this affects everything with time. I don’t mean to offend anyone. I hope we can all work together to help people that suffer through mental help from this going forward. I’ve heard how a lot of people are doing through this as people talk to me about it."

During his briefing, Lehner said that the league has misled the players about how vaccination will lead to the loosening of restrictions.

"They told me yesterday that they're surveying all of the teams to see who has taken the vaccine and who has not taken the vaccine and they're not going to change the rules for us as players until all of the teams have a fair [amount] of [vaccinated players] at the same time, so there's not a competitive edge," Lehner said. "And that made me go crazy, to be honest."

Lehner said the league is failing to look at its players as people first and lied to them about taking the vaccine.

"These are human lives and people are struggling with this stuff a lot in society and we are humans just as everyone else," Lehner said. "So there's a twofold problem for me here - the first one is we got promised something to take something that not necessarily everyone wanted. So that was lie - a blatant lie. Second, to put competitive edge over human lives in terms of going back - and I'm not saying we're going out to a party or whatever, but we had a meeting when the season started, at the beginning of camp, that pretty much told us we can't go outside of our house, can't do anything, can't go to the grocery store, can do nothing on the road. You can take a meal out of the meal room and go sit up in your room, don't be with your teammates, don't do this, don't do that. Nobody thinks about the mental impact."

The Gothenburg, Sweden native says his peers are struggling through this pandemic season.

"I know people will say, 'Oh, you're millionaires' and this and that or 'What about these guys?' but we care about that, too, man," Lehner said. "No matter what people think, this is a society problem. But when government, corporations, NHL, whoever are taking decisions in terms of irrelevant things like competitive edge over the human being? It's not okay."

It seems pretty clear to me from this article that his main issue isn’t really with getting the vaccine or being required to do so (my understanding is that it is still opt-in for all players, not mandatory. It’s that he doesn’t view the League as having provided players with a realistic expectation ahead of time for how being vaccinated would or would not change their daily reality. That they were led to believe that getting vaccinated would lead to things that didn’t end up happening, and therefore weren’t empowered to make an informed choice about when to get vaccinated.

The way he describes it, the League was not clear enough ahead of time about the fact that individual players being vaccinated would not make them individually exempt from league-wide restrictions, and this created a feeling of false hope about what getting vaccinated would mean in terms of not just having to stay in your house or hotel room literally all the time. If you were looking forward to getting vaccinated because you were led to believe it would mean finally not having to live in that isolated, mentally draining environment all the time, and then only found out at the last minute or after the fact that no, you actually still have to keep following all these rules that are making your life so isolated and difficult, that’s gotta be pretty emotionally jarring. If you were a player who was a little unsure about getting vaccinated quite yet (for whatever reason, including possibly being in a risk group for side-effects or just not wanting to get waylaid for a week with the smile symptoms it induces during a crucial stretch of games), but decided it was worth it for the tradeoff of getting back to a life that was less of a strain on your mental health, and then got told AFTER you made that decision and got the shot that no, that tradeoff isn’t happening the way you were made to expect it to, I think it would understandably piss you off.

It also sounds like part of what he has taken issue with is that, from the sounds of it rather than ease internal restrictions on a team-by-team basis as determined by each team’s vaccination rates (which would mean that if for example the Wild had 95% of their team vaccinated, the Wild only the Wild would get to start living a life with slightly less restrictions), the League is instead opting to say “no, we’re only going to ease the rules for EVERYONE at the same time once all teams have reached similar numbers of vaccinated players and staff to ea other, because we would see having different rules for different teams as giving some of them an unfair competitive edge”.

Lehner takes umbrage with this approach, because he thinks that focusing solely on “competitive edge” by making more-vaccinated teams keep having to live incredibly isolated lives (even isolated from vaccinated teammates) is a case of the League prioritizing parity over the toll that barely being able to interact with other people or leave their houses is taking on players’ mental health. And I can really really understand his point here. We have all seen what quarantine has done to our individual mental health, and even if they are millionaires, those impacts also exist for the players.

I actually just recently re-read the Athletic piece about the intense mental health and addiction struggles Lehner has gone through and done the incredibly difficult work of getting help for in the last five years. This man has fought incredibly hard and done a massive amount of therapy and other work to sort out his head, deal with his demons, and get himself to a place where he can cope and wants to be alive. That kind of recovery journey is a battle which will continue for the rest of your life and requires constant maintenance practices (again, speaking from experience). He also spent most of this season not even getting to be around the team at all, stuck at home recovering from a concussion (which usually involves doing frustratingly little and waiting around impatiently in dimly lit rooms for your brain to heal). And now, upon returning to the team, road games mean more time spent sitting in a room trying not to be bored out of your skull, while possibly also having to have some limits on things like screen time as a post-concussion precaution.

Imagine being somebody like him, who has spent a lot of time working very hard to build up a lifestyle and a system of coping mechanisms in recent years which have allowed him to live a healthier and happier life, to then be thrown back into an isolated and highly restricted new lifestyle where probably at least half of all those habits and norms and support systems are taken out of reach, that has to be incredibly difficult (I’ve experienced something similar myself this year). Especially when you haven’t been able to even go and be with the team in the dressing room, or probably even do anything with your family that classes above “mildly strenuous”, because you’re out for six weeks recovering from a concussion, which is its own mental and physical health battle. And then, you are apparently given the impression from the League that “hey, if you’re willing to get vaccinated, that will lead to you being able to return to some semblance of a life that is less taxing on your psyche”, and you agreed to do so even if you were perhaps cautious about getting the vaccine before, because you’d rather accept whatever risk comes with the shot than gamble on keeping your sanity together for however much longer this isolation drags on, only to then find out that “actually no, even if your team and staff is entirely vaccinated you still have to spend most of your time sitting alone in rooms trying not to sink into a spiral of dangerous depression until other teams in other states with different vaccination programs are also immunized to similar levels, and our only real reasoning for holding that mental relief out of reach is mostly based on ‘competitive parity’”.

Yeah, I absolutely understand why he would feel very frustrated and even betrayed by that course of action! For Lehner, it’s not about competitive edges or the game on the ice, it’s about having made the decision to get vaccinated at this time with the understanding that it would allow access to an at least slightly less mentally taxing lifestyle, only to find out later that the League seemingly never intended to follow through on providing that despite you holding up your end of the deal. And it sounds like he is speaking for a number of other players beyond just himself who are also struggling with their mental health in these conditions. Even if he himself is managing to cope because of what he’s learned in his recovery, he would certainly be well-positioned to recognize signs in the people around him that they are struggling in ways that may be similar to what he went though before, and know how dire that can spiral into being.

Look, I don’t think Robin Lehner ever expected to be allowed to go out and lick people’s eyeballs or wander the supermarket maskless once vaccinated, but you heard the description of how intensely restrictive the NHL’s rules for players off-ice lives during COVID are. They are far more intense than the rules being enforced for non-NHL individuals in many of the same cities and states, because the NHL is trying to bring risk as close to zero as possible. And if you were a player told that being vaccinated was going to reduce contagion risks enough to mean that right away the NHL would finally let you and your teammates from “can’t go anywhere or see anyone, eat your dinner in your hotel room and try not to be depressed about it” to “you can go to the store with a mask on. you can eat meals with your also-vaccinated teammates. you can visit your parents or siblings while social-distancing/masking. you can spend free time around other people and/or in more public spaces without being chaperoned constantly by team staff. you can sit next to your also-vaccinated teammates on the plane/bus. you can hang out with them in their room”, and THEN later were told “sorry, we’re not actually going to let you do that yet. not for COVID reasons but rather because we worry not being totally miserable shut-ins will give you a competitive edge over that team in another state who aren’t getting vaccinated as quickly”. That has to feel like a slap in the face in terms of how much the league actually cares about your well-being or about being honest in its role in your personal medical decisions. Perhaps when he says “forced” he is expressing a feeling of being stuck between choosing “either get vaccinated or let your mental health keep degrading in isolation”, only to find out that making the deal doesn’t get you the relief you were promised.

Idk I feel like I’m repeating myself a lot here trying to circle in on my precise point bc my brain is a little scrambled today, but like. If the players made their decisions to consent to vaccination (at this time, with whatever version of the shot was offered, under whatever circumstances they may have going on personally or medically) based on one understanding of the situation, and then NHL really said “lol NOPE actually that was a false premise” and changed things after the fact, that’s kinda an informed consent issue and I think he’s right to call it fucked up! And everything he says about how mentally taxing such a super-isolated lifestyle is honestly only repeats worries I myself had right from the moment the “stay in your hotel room alone” rule was announced — that the League may be underestimating the toll (especially with some of the long road trips this season) that forcing players to live in total isolation like that was going to have on individual wellbeing and team morale.

Robin’s comments this morning could have been put better, but as somebody who has ADHD and who knows about bipolar disorder, I know emotions for folks with brains like ours can run fast and intense and sometimes lead to not always planning out every word as precisely and you might later have liked to once that moment has passed. The fact that he apologized for the less tactful part of the comment and sought to clarify his words tells me he’s thought a lot about this and wasn’t happy with how he expressed his thoughts initially. Also, while his English is very good, you can sometimes forget it isn’t his first language, Swedish is — some thoughts don’t translate exactly as they sounded in your head. That said, also Robin Lehner one of the more outspoken NHL players about mental health issues in recent years, and he also doesn’t seem like the type of guy to mince his words or tiptoe around a point — I’m not surprised he’s the person expressing these concerns about mental health, and I’m not surprised he was a bit blunt about it either lol.

All in all, it sounds like the NHL did a poor job of managing expectations around what vaccine rollout would mean for the players and their families, and that they’re also up to their usual NHL schtick of prioritizing some platonic ideal of Competitive Parity (remember “the Vancouver Canucks will play a 56 game season”, anyone?) above all else, even when that is no longer realistic and/or comes at the expense of the short-term and long-term mental and physical wellbeing of the players. Classic NHL.

(also: the New York Post is a right-leaning sensationalist rag 90% of the time. take all spin it puts on things with a grain of salt)

[iwanthermidnightz]

“Not a shot. Not a single chance. Not a snowball’s chance in hell.”

Taylor Swift — who, at 30, has reached a Zen state of cheerful realism — laughs as she leans into a pillow she’s placed over her crossed legs inside her suite at the Beverly Hilton Hotel, leaning further still into her infinitesimal odds of winning a Golden Globe, which will zero out when she heads down to the televised ball in a few hours.

Never mind whether or not the tune she co-wrote, “Beautiful Ghosts,” might actually have been worthy of a trophy for best original song (or shortlisted for an Oscar, which it was not). Since the Globe nominations were revealed, voters could hardly have been immune to how quickly the film it’s a part of, “Cats,” in which she also co-stars, became a whipping boy for jokes about costly Hollywood miscalculations and creative disasters. Not that you’ll hear Swift utter a discouraging word about it all. “I’m happy to be here, happy to be nominated, and I had a really great time working on that weird-ass movie,” she declares. “I’m not gonna retroactively decide that it wasn’t the best experience. I never would have met Andrew Lloyd Webber or gotten to see how he works, and now he’s my buddy. I got to work with the sickest dancers and performers. No complaints.”

If this leads you to believe that the pop superstar is in the business of sugarcoating things, consider her other new movie — a vastly more significant documentary that presents Swift not just sans digital fur but without a whole lot of the varnish of the celebrity-industrial complex. The Netflix-produced “Taylor Swift: Miss Americana” has a prestige slot as the Jan. 23 opening night gala premiere of the Sundance Film Festival before it reaches the world as a day-and-date theatrical release and potential streaming monster on Jan. 31.

The doc spends much of its opening act juxtaposing the joys of creation with the aggravations of global stardom — the grist of many a pop doc, if rendered in especially intimate detail — before taking a more provocative turn in its last reel to focus more tightly on how and why Swift became a political animal. It’s the story of an earnest young woman with a self-described “good girl” fixation working through her last remaining fears of being shamed as she comes to embrace her claws, and her causes.

Given that the film portrays how gradually, and sometimes reluctantly, Swift came to place herself into service as a social commentator, “Miss Americana” is a portrait of the birth of an activist. Director Lana Wilson sets the movie up so that it pivots on a couple of big letdowns for its subject. The first comes early in the film, and early in the morning, when Swift’s publicist calls to update her on how many of the top three Grammy categories her 2017 album “Reputation” is nominated for: zilch. She’s clearly bummed about the record’s brushoff by the awards’ nominating committee, as just about anyone who’d previously won album of the year twice would be, and determinedly tells her rep that she’s just going to make a better record.

But she suffers what feels like a more meaningful blow toward the end of the film. In the fall of 2018, Swift finally comes out of the closet politically to intervene on behalf of Democrats in a midterm election in her home state of Tennessee. As the Washington Post put it, this announcement “fell like a hammer across the Trump-worshipping subforums of the far-right Internet, where people had convinced themselves… that the world-famous pop star was a secret MAGA fan.” Donald Trump goes on camera to smirk that he now likes Swift’s music a little less. The singer is successful in enlisting tens of thousands of young people to register to vote, but her senatorial candidate of choice, Democrat Phil Bredesen, loses to Republican Marsha Blackburn, whom she’d called out as a flagrant enemy of feminism and gay rights.

“Definitely, that was a bigger disappointment for me,” Swift says, pitting the midterm snub against the Grammy snub. “I think what’s going on out in the world is bigger than who gets a prize at the party.”

It was not always thus for Swift — as the detractors who dragged her for staying quiet during the last presidential election eagerly pointed out. If you had to pick the most embarrassing or regrettable moment in “Miss Americana,” it might be the TV clip from “The Late Show With David Letterman” in which the host brings up politics and gets Swift to essentially advocate the “Shut up and sing” mantra. As the studio audience roars approval of her vow to stay apolitical, Letterman gives her what now looks like history’s most dated fist bump.

Thinking back on it, Swift is incredulous. “Every time I didn’t speak up about politics as a young person, I was applauded for it,” she says. “It was wild. I said, ‘I’m a 22-year-old girl — people don’t want to hear what I have to say about politics.’ And people would just be like, ‘Yeahhhhh!’”

At that point, Swift was already starting to record isolated pop tracks, taking baby steps that would soon turn into full strides away from her initial genre. But whether she had designs on switching lanes or not, the lesson of the Dixie Chicks’ forced exile after Natalie Maines’ comment against then-President George W. Bush had branded itself onto her brain at an earlier age, when she’d just planted her young-teen flag in Nashville and overheard a lot of the lamentations of older Music Row songwriters about how the Chicks had thrown it all away.

“I saw how one comment ended such a powerful reign, and it terrified me,” says Swift. “These days, with social media, people can be so mad about something one day and then forget what they were mad about a couple weeks later. That’s fake outrage. But what happened to the Dixie Chicks was real outrage. I registered it — that you’re always one comment away from being done being able to make music.”

Maybe the most transfixing scene in “Miss Americana” is one where Swift argues with her father and other members of her team about the statement she’s about to release coming out against Blackburn and — it’s clear from her references to White House opposition to the Equality Act — Donald Trump too. The comments were so spontaneous that Wilson wasn’t there to film the moment, but the director had asked people to turn on the camera if anything interesting transpired, and here it most certainly did.

“For 12 years, we’ve not got involved in politics or religion,” an unnamed associate says to Swift, suggesting that going down the road of standing against a president as well as Republican gubernatorial and Senate candidates could have the effect of halving her audience on tour. Her father chimes in: “I’ve read the entire [statement] and … right now, I’m terrified. I’m the guy that went out and bought armored cars.”

“I needed to get to a point where I was ready, able and willing to call out bullshit rather than just smiling my way through it.” TAYLOR SWIFT

But Swift is adamant about pressing the button to send a nearly internet-breaking Instagram post, saying that Blackburn has voted against reauthorizing the Violence Against Women Act as well as LGBTQ-friendly bills: “I can’t see another commercial [with] her disguising these policies behind the words ‘Tennessee Christian values.’ I live in Tennessee. I am Christian. That’s not what we stand for.” Pushing back tears, she laments not having come out against Trump two years earlier, “but I can’t change that. … I need to be on the right side of history. … Dad, I need you to forgive me for doing it, because I’m doing it.”

Says Swift now, “This was a situation where, from a humanity perspective, and from what my moral compass was telling me I needed to do, I knew I was right, and I really didn’t care about repercussions.” She understands why she faced such heated opposition in the room: “My dad is terrified of threats against my safety and my life, and he has to see how many stalkers we deal with on a daily basis, and know that this is his kid. It’s where he comes from.”

Swift was recently announced as the recipient of a Vanguard Award from GLAAD, and she name-checked the org in her basher-bashing single “You Need to Calm Down,” which was released as one of the teaser tracks for last fall’s more outwardly directed and socially conscious “Lover” album. Part of her politicization, she says, is feeling it would be hypocritical to hang out with her gay friends while leaving them to their own devices politically. In the film, she says, “I think it is so frilly and spineless of me to stand onstage and go ‘Happy Pride Month, you guys,’ and then not say this, when someone’s literally coming for their neck.”

A year and a half later, she elaborates: “To celebrate but not advocate felt wrong for me. Using my voice to try to advocate was the only choice to make. Because I’ve talked about equality and sung about it in songs like ‘Welcome to New York,’ but we are at a point where human rights are being violated. When you’re saying that certain people can be kicked out of a restaurant because of who they love or how they identify, and these are actual policies that certain politicians vocally stand behind, and they disguise them as family values, that is sinister. So, so dark.”

Her increasing alignment with the LGBTQ community wasn’t the only thing raising her consciousness to a breaking — i.e., speaking — point. So did the sexual assault trial in which judgment was rendered that she had been groped by a DJ in a backstage photo op (for financial restitution, Swift had asked for $1).

Her experience with the trial was crucial, she says, in finding herself “needing to speak up about beliefs I’d always had, because it felt like an opportunity to shed light on what those trials are like. I experienced it as a person with extreme privilege, so I can only imagine what it’s like when you don’t have that. And I think one theme that ended up emerging in the film is what happens when you are not just a people pleaser but someone who’s always been respectful of authority figures, doing what you were supposed to do, being polite at all costs. I still think it’s important to be polite, but not at all costs,” she says. “Not when you’re being pushed beyond your limits, and not when people are walking all over you. I needed to get to a point where I was ready, able and willing to call out bulls— rather than just smiling my way through it.”

That came into play when Kanye West stepped into her life and publicly shamed her a second time. In the video Kim Kardashian released in 2016, you can hear the people-pleasing Swift on the other end of the line sheepishly thanking him for letting her know about the “Me and Taylor might still have sex” line he plans to include about her in a song — only to regret it later when the eventual track also includes the claim “Why? I made that bitch famous.” The boast, of course, referred back to the moment when he interrupted her and stole her spotlight at the MTV VMAs six years earlier as she was in the middle of an acceptance speech. West’s is not a name that ever publicly escapes Swift’s lips, so it might be surprising to fans that these events are recapped in “Miss Americana,” although Swift says the filmic decisions were all up to the director, who explains that Swift’s reaction to the episode was important to include.

“With the 2009 VMAs, it surprised me that when she talked about how the whole crowd was booing, she thought that they were booing her, and how devastating that was,” says Wilson. “That was something I hadn’t thought about or heard before, and made it much more relatable and understandable to anyone.”

“I see the movie as looking at the flip side of being America’s sweetheart.” LANA WILSON, DIRECTOR OF “TAYLOR SWIFT: MISS AMERICANA”

Swift acknowledges how formative both incidents have been in her life, for ill and good. “As a teenager who had only been in country music, attending my very first pop awards show,” she says now, “somebody stood up and sent me the message: ‘You are not respected here. You shouldn’t be here on this stage.’ That message was received, and it burrowed into my psyche more than anyone knew. … That can push you one of two ways: I could have just curled up and decided I’m never going to one of those events ever again, or it could make me work harder than anyone expects me to, and try things no one expected, and crave that respect — and hopefully one day get it.

“But then when that person who sparked all of those feelings comes back into your life, as he did in 2015, and I felt like I finally got that respect (from West), but then soon realized that for him it was about him creating some revisionist history where he was right all along, and it was correct, right and decent for him to get up and do that to a teenage girl…” She sighs. “I understand why Lana put it in.”

Adds the woman who started her recent “Lover” album with a West-allusive romp that’s pointedly called “I Forgot That You Existed”: “I don’t think too hard about this stuff now.”

What’s not in the film is any mention of her other most famous nemeses — Scooter Braun and Scott Borchetta of Big Machine Records, with whom she’s scrapped publicly for several months. “The Big Machine stuff happened pretty late in our process,” says Wilson. “We weren’t that far from picture lock. But there’s also not much to say that isn’t publicly known. I feel like Taylor’s put the story out there in her own words already, and it’s been widely covered. I was interested in telling the story that hadn’t been told before, that would be surprising and emotionally powerful to audiences whether they were music industry people or not.”

Still, the way Swift has been willing to stand up politically for others parallels the manner in which she stood up for herself in regard to Braun, et al., at the recent Billboard Women in Music Awards, where she gave an altogether blistering speech, naming names and taking no prisoners, going after the men who now control her six-album Big Machine back catalog. Certainly Swift was aware that, along with supporters, there were many friends and business associates of Braun among the VIPs in the Hollywood Palladium who would not be pleased with what this very reformed people-pleaser had to say.

One thing everyone who was in the room agrees on is that you could hear a pin drop as Swift used the speech to get even bolder about the meat of these disputes. Some would say it’s because they were riveted by her boldness in speaking truth to power, others because they just felt uncomfortable. Says one fellow honoree who works in a high position in the industry (and who’s worked with some high-profile Braun clients): “People were excited for her at the beginning of the speech. But once she started going in a negative direction at an event that is supposed to be celebrating accomplishments and rah-rah for women, I felt it fell flat with a good portion of the room, because it wasn’t the appropriate place to be saying it.”

Wasn’t it intimidating for Swift, knowing she might be polarizing an auditorium full of the most powerful people in the business? “Well, I do sleep well at night knowing that I’m right,” she responds, “and knowing that in 10 years it will have been a good thing that I spoke about artists’ rights to their art, and that we bring up conversations like: Should record deals maybe be for a shorter term, or how are we really helping artists if we’re not giving them the first right of refusal to purchase their work if they want to?”

“Obviously, anytime you’re standing up against or for anything, you’re never going to receive unanimous praise. But that’s what forces you to be brave. And that’s what’s different about the way I live my life now.” (Braun’s camp did not respond to a request for comment.)

One thing Taylor Swift can’t bend to her determined will is her family’s health. She revealed a few years ago that her mother, Andrea, a beloved figure among the thousands of fans who’ve met her at road shows, is battling breast cancer. Swift addressed the uncertainty of that struggle in an anguished song on her latest album, “Soon You’ll Get Better.” Many who view “Miss Americana” will look for signs of how her mom is doing. The subject comes up in a section of the film that includes a relatively light-hearted scene in in which it’s shown that one of Andrea Swift’s ways of saying “eff you” to cancer recently was to break the mold and bring a canine — her “cancer dog” — into a famously feline-friendly family.

The real answer may come in Swift’s touring activity for “Lover.” Whereas typically she’d spend nine months in the year after an album release on the road, she plans to limit herself to four stadium dates in America this summer and a trip around the festival circuit in Europe. This may not be 100% for personal reasons: “I wanted to be able to perform in places that I hadn’t performed in as much, and to do things I hadn’t done before, like Glastonbury,” she says. “I feel like I haven’t done festivals, really, since early in my career — they’re fun and bring people together in a really cool way. But I also wanted to be able to work as much as I can handle right now, with everything that’s going on at home. And I wanted to figure out a way that I could do both those things.”

Is being able to be there for her mother the main concern? “Yeah, that’s it. That’s the reason,” she says. “I mean, we don’t know what is going to happen. We don’t know what treatment we’re going to choose. It just was the decision to make at the time, for right now, for what’s going on.”

In her case, it’s as if her manager had taken seriously ill as well as the person she’s always been closest to, all at once. “Everyone loves their mom; everyone’s got an important mom,” she allows. “But for me, she’s really the guiding force. Almost every decision I make, I talk to her about it first. So obviously it was a really big deal to ever speak about her illness.” During filming, when Andrea’s breast cancer had returned for a second time, “she was going through chemo, and that’s a hard enough thing for a person to go through.” Then it got harder. Speaking about this latest development publicly for the first time, Swift quietly reveals: “While she was going through treatment, they found a brain tumor. And the symptoms of what a person goes through when they have a brain tumor is nothing like what we’ve ever been through with her cancer before. So it’s just been a really hard time for us as a family.”

Compared with that, nearly any other topic the movie might address would pale. But it finds weightiness in addressing other kinds of unhealthiness, like the physical expectations that are placed on women in general and celebrity women specifically, Swift being no exception. In this department, she has her own heroines. “I love people like Jameela Jamil, because he way she speaks about body image, it’s almost like she speaks in a hook. Women are held to such a ridiculous standard of beauty, and we’re seeing so much on social media that makes us feel like we are less than, or we’re not what we should be, that you kind of need a mantra to repeat in your head when you start to have unhealthy thoughts. I swear the way Jameela speaks is like lyrics — it gets stuck in my head and it calms me down.”

Swift’s collaborator in this messaging, Wilson, was on a list of potential directors Netflix gave her when she expressed interest in possibly doing a documentary to follow the concert special that premiered on the service just over a year ago. You could discern a feminist message, if you chose to, in the fact that Swift chose a director most well known for a documentary about abortion providers, “After Tiller.” Swift says she was most impressed, though, that Wilson’s docs look for nuance and subtlety in addressing subjects that do lend themselves to soapboxes, and their first conversation was about their mutual desire to avoid “propaganda” in any form.

If there’s a feminist agenda in “Miss Americana,” Wilson and Swift wanted it to emerge naturally, although the director admits it was pretty blatant from the outset, given that she set up the film (which is co-produced by Morgan Neville, the director’s “sounding board”) with an all-female crew. Or nearly all-female, says Wilson, laughing, “I will say that we did always have male production assistants, because I like trying to show people that men can fetch coffee for women.”

Adds Wilson, “When I started filming, it was before she’d come out politically. She knew that she was coming out of a very dark period, and wanted collaborate on something that captured what she was going through and that was really raw and honest and emotionally intimate.” The political awakening, the director says, “was a profound decision for her to make. In that, I saw this feminist coming of age story that I personally connected with, and that I really think women and girls around the world will see themselves in.”

“The bigger your career gets, the more you struggle with the idea that a lot of people see you the same way they see an iPhone or a Starbucks.” TAYLOR SWIFT

The film borrows its title from a song on the “Lover” album, “Miss Americana & the Heartbreak Prince,” that’s maybe the one fully allegorical song Swift has ever released — and, in its fashion, is a great protest song. The entire lyric is a metaphor for how Swift grew up as an unblinking patriot and has had to reluctantly leave behind her naiveté in the age of Trump. Her partner on that track, as well as other message songs like “You Need to Calm Down” and “The Man,” was a co-writer and co-producer new to her stable of collaborators this time around, Joel Little.

With the song “Miss Americana & the Heartbreak Prince,” although the lyrics are cloaked in metaphor, “We like to think it was a very clear statement,” Little says. “There are lots of little hidden messages within that song that are all pointing toward the way that she thinks and feels about politics and the United States. I love that it uses a lot of classic Taylor Swift imagery, in terms of the songwriting topics of high school and cheerleaders, as a clever nod to what she’s done in the past, but tied in with a heavy political message.”

“Miss Americana & the Heartbreak Prince” doesn’t actually appear in the documentary, but the director says the film’s title is understood by fans as an obvious reference to political themes in the number. “Even if you don’t know the song,” Wilson says, “I see the movie as looking at the flip side of being America’s sweetheart, so I like how the title evokes that too.”

The doc doesn’t lack for its own protest songs though. In the wake of her midterm disappointment, Swift is seen writing an anthem for millennials who might have come away disillusioned with the political process. That previously unheard song, “Only the Young,” is seen being demo-ed before it plays in full over the end credits; it’ll be released as a digital single in conjunction with the doc. Key lyric: ““You did all that you could do / The game was rigged, the ref got tricked/ The wrong ones think they’re right / We were outnumbered — this time.”

“One thing I think is amazing about her,” says Wilson, “is that she goes to the studio and to songwriting as a place to process what she’s going through. I loved how, when she got the Grammy news (about “Reputation”), this isn’t someone who’s going to feel sorry for herself or say ‘That wasn’t right.’ She’s like, ‘Okay, I’m going to work even harder.’ You see her strength of character in that moment when she gets that news. And then with the election results, I loved how she channeled so many of her thoughts and feelings into ‘Only the Young.’ It was a great way to kind of show how stuff that happens in her life goes directly into the songs; you get to witness that in both cases.

So is the film aimed at satisfying the fan base or teasing the unconvinced hordes who might dial it up as a free stream? “I think it’s a little bit of both,” Swift says. “I chose Netflix because it’s a very vast, accessible medium to people who are just like, ‘Hey, what’s this? I’m bored.’ I love that, because I do so many things that cater specifically to fans that like my music, I think it’s important to put yourself out there to people who don’t care at all about you.”

In the wake of the last round of Kanye-gate, stung by the backlash of those who took his side, Swift took a three-year break from interviews. The mantra of her 2017 album “Reputation” and subsequent tour was “No explanations.” But her Beyoncé-style press blackout was a passing phase. With “Lover” and now, especially, the documentary, she could hardly be more about the explanations. Although this interview is the only one she currently plans to do about the documentary, it’s clear that she’s come back into a season of openness, and that she considers it her natural habitat.

“I really like the whole discussion around music. And during ‘Reputation,’ it never felt like it was ever going to be about music, no matter what I said or did,” she says. “I approach albums differently, in how I want to show them to the world or what I feel comfortable with at that time in my life.” Being more transparent “feels great with this album. I really feel like I could just keep making stuff — it’s that vibe right now. I don’t think I’ve ever written this much. That’s exhibited in ‘Lover’ having the most songs that I’ve ever had on an album” (18, to be exact). “But even after I made the album, I kept writing and going in the studio. That’s a new thing I’ve experienced this time around. That openness kind of feels like you finally got the lid off a jar you’ve been working at for years.”

Cipher-dom never could have stood for long for someone who’s established herself as one of the most accomplished confessional singer-songwriters in pop history. “I don’t really operate very well as an enigma,” she says. “It’s not fulfilling to me. It works really well in a lot of pop careers, but I think that it makes me feel completely unable to do what I had gotten in this to do, which is to communicate to people. I live for the feeling of standing on a stage and saying, ‘I feel this way,’ and the crowd responding with ‘We do too!’ And me being like, ‘Really?’ And they’re like, ‘Yes!’”

Swift believes talking things up again isn’t a form of giving in to narcissism — it’s a way of warding off commodification.

“The bigger your career gets, the more you struggle with the idea that a lot of people see you the same way they see an iPhone or a Starbucks,” she muses. “They’ve been inundated with your name in the media, and you become a brand. That’s inevitable for me, but I do think that it’s really necessary to feel like I can still communicate with people. And as a songwriter, it’s really important to still feel human and process things in a human way. The through line of all that is humanity, and reaching out and talking to people and having them see things that aren’t cute.

[shellheadtm-a]

i’m stealing the idea of a topical mcu/616 differences list from @suprnovas because while i know i’ve done them before, they’re scattered and scattered brain and picking through it by topic is a good idea.  and this is more, obviously, for people who may not realize that 616 tony stark is an entirely different character from mcu tony, in terms of personality and the way his life has played out, and that’s important to me to point that out.

arc reactor / rt node - mcu tony had an arc reactor, a miniaturized nuclear battery, in his chest after afghanistan to keep the shrapnel out of his heart.  no such creature exists in 616 - instead, tony wore the chestplate of the original iron man armors (which were much different than the first iterations of the mcu armors) under his clothes and it required charging every so often to function as a fancy pacemaker.  there was a big to-do about tony getting the shrapnel out, using an experimental tissue transplant surgery ages and ages before anything glowy ever sat in his chest.  later he had the rt node, which while visually similar to the arc reactor served an entirely different purpose.  the rt node was also a nuclear battery/electromagnet combo, and served to power the iron man at the time (the bleeding edge), but it also served as tony’s brain in a lot of ways.  tony had both wiped his own mind and been beaten so badly by norman osborn he had severe brain damage.  the rt was the fine line between tony in a persistent vegetative state and tony upright and walking and talking.  while not a part of his physiology any longer, he had it for several years, considering until his complete body reboot it was the only thing working as the automatic functions of brain and removing it would literally kill him.

alcoholism - tony’s alcoholism is background in the mcu, and quietly just whisked away (and while a lot of that has to do with disney...).  however, in 616, tony’s alcoholism isn’t a once-mentioned deal and everyone goes on their merry way.  tony didn’t just “handle” it, he took that plunge from grace and hit rock bottom face first.  he spent some time broke.  homeless.  missing.  it’s a prominent feature of his character, once he gets himself in aa and sober, and it’s tested multiple times.  his sobriety is used as a bargaining chip.  people try and have exploited it for their own gain (notably obadiah stane and justine hammer, the original justin hammer’s daughter).  aa plays a big part in tony’s story, he does meetings, the steps, sponsors other people (notably carol danvers).  it’s not a quiet, hidden thing, it’s very public and very honest, and something tony is very frank about being a daily struggle.

obadiah stane - mcu obadiah was a father-figure to tony.  in 616, this isn’t even remotely close to the case, and instead he was absolutely villainous from the start, in the sense that he tried (and succeeded) to legally both maneuver tony’s company right out from under him and lay claim to everything tony had ever called his own.  he manipulated tony’s need for love and problems with alcohol to secure that.  he kidnapped literally everyone he could get his hands on that meant something to tony, from pepper to the baby of a friend he helped deliver.  and after he took himself off the playing field he still had a minefield laid for tony, in the form of tony’s entire fortune (sure tony inherited the company from howard, but every penny stane took tony earned himself) behind a wall of failsafes to keep tony out if certain conditions weren’t met.  tony ultimately succeeded, but it wasn’t a one and done deal, it was a massive climb up a mountain from the very bottom.  later, obadiah’s son, zeke stane, also came after tony.

pepper potts - you know how the mcu story goes, tony gets the girl, they get married, have a kid.  yeah, 616 didn’t happen that way.  616  didn’t happen that way so much that tony and pepper have literally never been in a relationship.  they pined after each other for years, sure, and pepper is literally one of the people tony cares about most in the world and always will, but they’re not in love.  pepper ended up marrying happy and while they had their issues ultimately they were still together at the time of happy’s death.  tony and pepper have slept together ultimately a grand total of one time, and that’s been that.  tony acknowledges that his role in pepper’s life is more overly protective best friend, not partner material.  pepper is super, super important to tony, but she’s not and probably never will be his endgame.  they aren’t like that.

extremis - in mcu, extremis is a mess.  a literal, whole-ass mess.  with a fake mandarin in the deal.  so here’s how it works in 616:  tony was the one (1) extremis enhancile that didn’t completely lose his marbles, and even then it can’t be said it didn’t cause some issues, as anyone who’s ever read the civil war storyline and his duration as director of shield will know.  tony’s version of extremis rewired his body from the inside out, literally.  he had a level of technopathy, a healing factor, he could literally tap into anything electronic he wanted to, connect to satellites, whatever.  it also made him cold, distant, and more than a little less human, with less control over his already prodigious temper.  it wasn’t a fun time.  it essentially turned his brain into a computer’s harddrive, and he used it exactly that way, to the point he was backing himself up in the chance it was ever needed (spoiler: he did).  pepper didn’t get extremis.  in 616 you literally have to have a special genetic marker, or it will kill you.  gruesomely.  and, put another, easy to parse way:  extremis basically made tony a technopathic steve rogers, a super soldier.

secret identity - the mcu has tony blowing off the idea of iron man as a bodyguard as ridiculous.  616 tony posed as his own bodyguard for years.  he kept that secret so close to his vest only a handful of people knew for years and most of the avengers weren’t on that list.  actually, the one who did know was thor, not anyone else you might think.  or...that knew because tony told them so.  lots of people caught a glimpse of it, or suspected.  he’s revealed and then covered up his identity numerous times, finally coming out officially and staying out as iron man during the fight over superhero registration.  while the whole world knows now that tony stark and iron man are one in the same, for the majority of tony’s time as the armored avenger, that simply wasn’t the case.

chitauri - chitauri were an mcu/ultimates thing strictly up until secret empire (which we don’t talk about in this house), when they were introduced into 616.  that battle of new york?  in the mcu?  yeah that’s kinda...normal, for 616.  it happens often enough that the world ending or aliens trying to invade or...look, 616 is entirely more perilous of a universe.  the battle of new york is actually a conglomeration of several elements from several different 616 and ultimates battles, including the nukes.  tony doesn’t have a fear in space because of things like that, he’s actually spent lots and lots of time in space, and notably with the guardians of the galaxy (of which he was one for a hot minute).

the avengers - mcu follows the ultimates storyline for the avengers, in that they’re formed by shield.  in 616, that’s not so much the case.  the avengers formed on their own, with an entirely different line up for the team, coming together as a group to fight loki and deciding that, overall, there’s something to be said about working together.  originally it was janet van dye and hank pym (who are tony’s generation - hope van dyne does not exist in 616, instead we have nadia van dyne, who is hank’s daughter that jan has claimed as her own), thor, bruce banner, and tony.  steve is not an actual founding member, he was grandfathered in and has all the perks because it’s captain america and you just don’t leave captain america in the cold.  shield had diddly fuck all to do with them, and has worked with them in the past, sure, but it’s always been a very uneasy alliance.  to the point that shield has tried to take over tony’s company at points.  the avengers are a free-wheeling operation, funded largely through donations, the maria stark foundation, and tony’s own personal fortune.  they’re peace-keepers, classified as a non-profit, and operate by their own by-laws and regulations, which if you’re really interested, you can find here.  the only thing i’ve personally added to that is section five, and even that has some basis in canon itself.

ultron - ultron was created by hank pym (giant man, ant-man, wasp, yellowjacket, goliath), not tony.  for very different reasons.  and he’s been a thorn in the side of the world since his inception, having caused the destruction of the world more than once that’s had to be fixed.  the living creature that is time in the 616 universe is so punched full of holes from having to do shit like this it looks like swiss cheese, let’s be honest here.  vision did ultimately come from ultron, yes, but his personality is based off of that of simon williams, a superhero in 616 known as wonder man.

avengers mansion / tower / compound - the avengers used to operate out of tony’s childhood home, which he opened up to that cause, 890 fifth avenue.  when that was destroyed, they moved to stark tower.  that’s been destroyed about a hundred times at this point.  currently the main team is operating out of the body of a dead celestial in the north pole.  616 tony stark would never lower himself to buying property in upstate new york unless it’s a cabin in the adirondacks, he’d buy (and has bought) property in new jersey first, and the avengers compound, such as it is, does not exist.

civil war - there is no such thing as the sokovia accords in 616.  instead, 616 had what’s called the superhuman registration act (shra for short) which required all superhumans to register their identities with the us government.  it was strictly us-based, for the record, and happened after nitro, a villain in 616 who can basically blow himself up like a bomb at will, did so in the town of stamford after being caught out by a group of superheroes known as the new warrirors for a reality tv show.  it was the final nail in the coffin for a lot of people about superheroes (which are a part of daily life in 616) and people were scared and wanted something done.  tony was pro-registration.  steve was anti-registration, and was especially hostile after maria hill opened fire on him.  they scrapped, and scrapped hard, in multiple public battles, until steve turned himself in when he realized not only was he literally about to murder a basically defenseless tony in the middle of a street (and what do you do when your best friend’s under you and tells you to “finish it” through his broken faceplate?) and that they, both sides, were just fighting to fight, instead of fighting for something.  on the way to his arraignment, steve is assassinated.  tony literally falls apart and loses his shit utterly and completely.  there’s a lot of awful things that happen that can’t be contained to a blurb.  and it all leads to the point where tony erases his brain and norman osborn lays siege to asgard, which is near the town of broxton, oklahoma.  it’s a mess, both more contained, and bigger, because the stakes are bigger and the number of players are bigger, and there’s a skrull invasion taking place behind the whole damn thing.  there are also approximately a million conspiracy theories, some people wondered if tony had something to do with steve’s death (he didn’t, it was red skull), and it’s since shaped the entirety of what it’s like to be a superhero in the world of 616 since, even if shra has been repealed.

captain america - is this really a tony blog without a special mention for steve rogers?  the mcu, once again, defers to the ultimates storyline (which is not 616) for steve, with shield handling the thawing and reintroducing steve into the world.  in 616, the avengers find him looking for the hulk and realize he’s still alive, and end up offering him a place with them, which obviously he ends up agreeing to.  there’s a lot of differences even with steve himself which i’m not going to get entirely into but he and bucky didn’t grow up together, bucky had fuck all to do with civil war for the most part, and tony and steve are literally attached at the hip.  tony literally has a captain america collection.  the cap collection is a thing, everyone knows about it, it’s not a secret, because captain america was tony’s hero before tony ever became a superhero.  there’s none of this tension right off the bat, steve ends up friends with tony and iron man before he knows they’re the same person.  they fight so hard because they love each other so hard.  they’re close, fullstop.  tony and steve have been leading teams together since almost the very beginning, and that’s that.  also steve and tony are literally almost the same age when steve is thawed from the ice; tony becomes iron man much earlier in 616.

bucky barnes - and while we’re at it:  bucky is a super soldier in the mcu, and there’s that whole mess with civil war and tony trying to kill him.  in 616 it’s the opposite:  bucky tries to kill tony.  tony talks him down and shows him the letter that was given to him from steve after steve’s death and offers bucky the shield.  bucky agrees.  bucky has intimate knowledge of the iron man’s inner workings and how to shut it (and effectively tony) off.  completely.  tony doesn’t remember any of this.   bucky is not a super soldier in 616, he’s literally just a dude with a metal arm and a plucky attitude who has a very unique skillset and was frozen for long periods of time.  he and tony have also been on a team together with bucky as captain america, and they’re friends outside of that.  tony does the arm maintenance that bucky can’t do, knows where bucky lives, knows bucky’s cat.  there’s none of this resentment there, they’re comfortable with each other.

physicality - this is a big one.  it’s what makes him and mcu tony at a glance glaringly different, because he’s so much taller and differently framed.  he’s huge and imposing in the suit, standing level with thor and at least half a head taller than steve.  outside of it he’s still unfairly tall, but built lanky.  he doesn’t build muscle mass the way other superheroes do, and tends to shed weight with a vengeance when he’s overly stressed.  and while disney princess eyes are a thing they both share, tony’s got that bonus striking combination of blue eyes and dark hair.  he’s also about a decade  younger than mcu tony, and looks a bit younger than that bc of everything he’s done to his body to enhance it (which is mostly all moot at this point, for the record).

personality - this is really the main thing with this.  the tony you see in the mcu is not 616 tony.  at all.  616 tony is actually a fairly serious character; he’s only occasionally flighty about his company, and when he is there’s usually some iron man/avengers motivation behind it.  he works.  he works hard.  and he’s known as a good man to work for, has good company morale, and takes a very micromanaging interest in everything his company does.  he also occasionally hides out in his workshop for weeks on end and has to be dragged out to see sunlight again.  he makes his jokes, he has some levity, but he’s more prone to rambling complete with flailing arms and technobabble with some philosophical footnotes than he is making nothing but solid pop culture references.  he has interests outside of the iron man, outside of engineering, and whole those are his passion, he’s a student of history and philosophy and art, and when he has time he plops down in front of dog cops just like the rest of the 616 universe.  he has unique vocal tics that are separate and distinct from mcu tony, that, while they both self edit, 616 tony is more obvious with it, stutters over words, gets stuck.  and then has a hard time unsticking himself.  he’s more sensitive; he’s less likely to give you an insulting nickname and reach instead for terms of endearment, and literally no one is safe.  he calls steve rogers beloved, for crying out loud, and steve doesn’t bat an eyelash at it.  he’s soft, and easily bruised, but he’s also steel spined and hot tempered.  when he’s angry, you’ll know it.  he’s also very kind, and very generous, and hates himself utterly and completely.  anyone who spends any amount of time around him realizes very quickly that the plastic i’m king of the world act is a facade.  tony will work himself down to the bone to make up for sins, real and imagined.  he overreaches in making decisions for other people.  and all around is probably a less appealing character in some ways - his flaws are very obvious and very human - but is in a lot of ways entirely more layered because there’s so much at work between his different masks and what’s underneath them all.  he’s the first to offer himself up as a sacrifice if it’s needed, and reaches for the worst case scenario first.  he’ll push people away because he thinks that will somehow save them, from himself and those he’s crossed.  he’s complicated, and his complications are not always easy or appealing or fixable.  there’s a truly ugly side to it that doesn’t get glossed over, and he’s willing to go so much darker if he considers it the right thing to do.

overall, there’s only some surface stuff between 616 and the mcu.  there’s a guy named tony stark who does duty as a superhero named iron man, but how they both got to the present day is completely different, and their lives and experiences are also completely different.  diving into 616 will be like...well.  culture shock.  and i’m gonna say it (even if i know the intake of breath on the 616 side is gonna be dramatic):  for people wanting to find a characterization more closely related to the mcu?  let me point you toward the ultimates runs. it’s kinda gross, but i have a soft spot for it and also it’s more narrowly related, you’ll see things that feel entirely more familiar, before jumping off into the crazy ass world that is 616, where things like steve rogers becoming a werewolf is just...tuesday.  the mcu takes elements from both, sure, but you’re gonna see a hell of a lot more ultimates influence, and that’s a fact.

[girlwiththealligatortattoo]

THE MAGNIFICENT SPACESHIP EARTH

I don’t think you have to be a space buff to imagine the many integrated systems that it takes to keep a human alive in space. There is such a delicate balance, and even one seemingly minuscule deviation from a normal reading on a panel, can mean the life or death of a spacecraft, and the people in it. Just ask the guys of the Apollo 13 mission, or the people living on the International Space Station.

We don’t have to think about this much on a daily basis though, because space is foreign to us. It isn’t an environment that we think we have to survive in. But rest assured, astronauts do not take their breath, sight, or any life support system for granted when in space. To do so would be ignorant and could lead to a quick death or permanent disability.

Imagine if you had to think about, worry about, your every breath, or whether or not you could step outside without protection from the sun?

For billions of years, life has been evolving on this seemingly unique planet. That’s a lot of work to get where we are now. We’ve come a long way, and these systems that we have in place can actually be thought of like a spaceship.

DELICATE AND PRECISE.

Earth is indeed suspended in space, and we are riding on it.

We are perfectly positioned from the sun. Not too close, and not too far. We have an atmosphere with the exact mixture of gases we need in order to sustain life.

Here’s an example that demonstrates the composition of our atmosphere, and what it takes to breathe on the space station:

I don’t think it is rocket science, to imagine what happens if you significantly alter the mixture of the air you breathe. Think of it this way...pretty shortly, you DON’T BREATHE ANYMORE.

Hopefully, you’ve heard it all before when the planet VENUS is given as an example of an atmosphere that contains too much CO2. Venus looks pretty beautiful in photographs, but trying to exist on the surface is likely what most fundamentalists of any religion would liken to hell. Literally.

But let’s go back to these integrated systems. We hear a lot about the Amazon rain forest don’t we? But guess what feeds it? Would you be surprised to learn that the sands of an African desert carry phosphorus across the Atlantic to feed the plants in South America? That is just one example of THOUSANDS regarding how interconnected we all are, and completely dependent upon these connections. You’ve probably never had to think about that.

But in 2020, I suspect that you DO now need to think about our life support systems for all life on Planet Earth.

I was watching a docudrama recently about the colonization of Mars. One of the botanists on there asked another ambitious astronaut “What are we, without plants?”

I’d ask you the same thing, fellow human. It’s time to appreciate that without other beings, you are in fact, nothing, and if you don’t know it now, you will know it.

How about the fact that the sun incessantly bombards us with UV rays that would fry your skin in seconds? You are currently protected by the ozone layer. Think of that like the “shields” that go up during a Star Trek battle! That’s the way I think of them. We don’t want our shields down, beautiful people. But remember how we put a hole in our shields with chemicals years back?

Like the astronauts aboard 13, many people, scientists, had to come together and find a solution, fast! And so...

Fortunately, we turned that ozone puncture around, and that is my hope regarding our many environmental challenges of today. But in order to do that, beautiful people, we have to stop letting petty politicians and dictatorial governments think for us. They want us to buy, buy, buy and build the economy and line their pockets and those of big businesses. When people are making money, we know they fight to the death to keep it rolling in.

Some of them even want us to disregard science, and debate whether or not humans contribute to negative impacts on our spaceship. Meanwhile, the signs are all around us, and you don’t need to be a scientist to read them.

These people are like bullies on our spaceship. They want all the goods. To be the last ones standing with the money and the power. What would you do if you had someone compromising your life support systems on a spaceship you were on? I think because you would be aware of the acute nature of the situation, you might take actions to change.

So I’m asking you now, in 2020, to take a look around you. It doesn’t matter where you come from or what your religion is. If you’re looking for a god or anyone else to save you, I’d say you’re expecting that god to give you more chances with the greatest creation. And I’d say you are wasting your time. No god I believe in is going to give me chance after chance to do right when I knowingly continue to do wrong. To continue down a wrong path expecting forgiveness is a moral cop out. No two ways about it. It’s ethical laziness.

The most honor and praise to a deity, or just a respect and gratitude for life, comes when we care for what we are given. When we don’t take it for granted. When we see being here as a privilege, and NOT A RIGHT.

We must respect other beings. We don’t usually understand how vital they are to our survival, but it’s time to start. We shouldn’t let anyone decimate our lands and our fellow beings, the wildlife.

It’s time to take care of our spaceship, before our spaceship vents us out into the void.

So what can you do?

Take a look at what you consume. How do you purchase it? Can you get rid of single use plastic?

Can you say “no” to purchasing plastic at all? Many of us are moving in that direction.

Can you recycle?

Can you try to limit your garbage as much as possible? Challenge yourself to be a cleaner animal...to produce less waste upon the Earth.

Can you eat less meat? Modern agribusiness contributes more to our climate damage than any other industry, besides being the soul-destroying tyrant that it is.

Can you use reusable bags for shopping?

Be mindful of the water you use?

Be mindful of the electricity you use?

Think about having a vehicle that is more efficient and less polluting?

Can you help spread the word and help people to care?

Can you let politicians know that the most important thing to us is our LIFE SUPPORT SYSTEMS on our ship? Our environment.

If you don’t care about now, and think you’ll be dead before we have to deal with issues, how about your children and grandchildren? Do you care about what they will have to face?

Is it all just too far off?

We are supposed to be an intelligent species. So we should be able to assess the science and make a plan to turn this around. Stop listening to politicians who tell us we can still be lazy and it doesn’t matter.

I believe we can. We’ve just got to band together and do it, beautiful people. Yes, it means changing our ways.

But folks, I believe there is beautiful evolution and growth in becoming a better animal, a producer for the planet. Not just a parasitic taker.

Thanks for your attention, if you got this far.

Blessings and love.

[lokilickedme]

Because things have been odd lately...

I know some people aren’t understanding my behavior in the last week or so.  I know I’ve been “off”.  I know I’ve been less interactive.  I know some people have taken silence and lack of response on my part as something personal against them.

It’s not.

I’m going to tell you something.  If you clicked and continued reading, then you care enough for this to matter, or you’re curious, or bored and looking for someone else’s drama to entertain you.  It’s fine, I’m the same way.

But this is important, to me at least.

For the first time in my entire life I said five words that I never thought I would hear myself say, out loud, in my kitchen, in front of another human being.  Granted, it was in the middle of some of the worst pain I’ve ever had, at the peak of one of the most stressful weeks I’ve had in ages.  But I still said it, and I can’t stop thinking about it now.

Just five words.  Five words I’ve never even said inside my head, much less out loud.

I wish I was dead.

A lot of you don’t know me apart from what I share with you online.  Fandom stuff.  Writing.  Funny stories about my kids and pictures of whatever.  But those of you that have gotten to know me a little bit beyond those things know that this, those five words up there, that isn’t me.  Those words are not something you would ever hear me say, or even hint at.  I’m not depressive.  I don’t have suicidal thoughts or ideations, I never have.  And I still don’t.  But nothing stopped those words coming out of my mouth, no safe barrier flew up to prevent my tongue forming them, and now I can’t unhear them.

I don’t think I meant it.  I know I didn’t.  I think the wording of it is important - I didn’t say I want to die.  I said I wish I was.  I’m sure it had everything to do with the pain and the final frazzled unraveling of my nerves, because I’d felt for three days at that point like I was about to go full blown into a nervous breakdown.  But when they hit my ears carried by my own voice, there was no stab of nervous panic at hearing them.  Just sort of...

I don’t even know.  I’m not going to go too far down that road, because I don’t think it ends anyplace I want to be.

This is where it starts, I think, at least the recent part of it.  I’m not going to go back further to the obvious roots of an entire life of twisted bullshit because I’m actually dealing with that a lot better than this.  And a lot of this likely won’t make sense to a lot of you - I’m sorry.  Read on if you wish...if not, no hard feelings.

Most of you know a little bit about my oldest son, the one we call Big.  You probably know him best as my witty smart longsuffering angel who copes on a daily basis with his trialsome frootloop of a younger brother.  Some of you also know he has some struggles and that he’s come so far and done so much.  You all know how proud I am of him.  He’s my first, the one I nearly had to let go of before I ever knew him, the one I almost had to let go of myself for.  He’s the one I’ve tried to carry to the far side of hell so he can step safely through the door onto cooler ground while my own feet are on fire.

I’m afraid I’m losing him.  He has made profound, astounding leaps of development this year.  But something has happened, and I don’t know what or why.

He’s suddenly regressing in some ways.  He’s losing his ability to maintain eye contact, something that’s common for children with his wiring differences but that he’s never had a problem with until now.  He repeats himself constantly now.  Sometimes it’s nonsense, though I know it makes sense to him somehow.  I can give him the same answer to a question or the same reply to a comment ten times in an hour.  Sometimes more.

He wanders off on flights of fancy, telling himself stories that he sometimes shares with me, about people he knows and places he goes.  People and places he’s created for himself.  He’s always known they exist in a separate world, but lately he’s been introducing them to us as if the worlds no longer have walls around them.  And he actively fears some of them.

He drew a face and handed it to me yesterday.

That’s him, he said.  And then he told me he loved me, and that he would do his best to protect me from him.  I don’t know who him is.

This year he started to master physical contact, which is a big thing for him.  He’s always been loving but never physically affectionate.  Never hugged or kissed people, not even me.  His hands have always been kept away from everyone, his physical self kept carefully apart from a world full of bodies he distanced himself from without a second thought.

Several months ago he decided he wanted to learn how to hug, so we worked on it.  He got good at it.  He was understanding the rules of it, determining appropriateness of timing and recipient, various reasons for extending or offering physical touch.  The science of it, which was the only way he could understand it.  And he got to where he enjoyed it and it didn’t causes him distress or discomfort.  He even lost the awkwardness.  It was no longer like hugging an automaton...it felt like hugging a child.

And now suddenly he just holds on.  Won’t let go.  It’s like he’s afraid to move away, to sever the connection.  It’s no longer just a curious desire to feel contact with another human being, to overcome a facet of “otherness” that he’d noticed in himself.  Now it’s like a fear of the space between us.  He doesn’t want to let go.

As I write this he’s sitting on the floor in front of me, not interacting, just being close.  He isn’t looking at me.  I don’t know where he is...he’s somewhere else, but he’s making an effort, a desperate one it feels like, to stay near me.  But it feels like every day he goes further and further down a road I can’t see, and from time to time he’ll look back over his shoulder and remember that this is where he needs to be...but he keeps walking.

I’m scared for him.  When I speak to him now, his eyes nervously dart to other places.  Faces have begun to disquiet him.  He flinches at noises that he’d gotten used to.  He tries to maintain eye contact, he realizes what he’s doing and pulls his eyes back to my face, but they dart off again quickly to some empty space beside me.

He goes into his other places more often.

He’s losing his ability to connect.

I don’t want him to disappear into some other world where I can’t follow him.  But I don’t know how to pull him back to the safety of this one.

I don’t even know if this is the safe one.

I’m not the best person to help him right now.  I’ve been cranky.  I’ve been having chronic migraines for weeks.  I haven’t been easy to get along with.  I’m trying, but sometimes it feels like all my physical, mental, emotional energy goes to everyone else and leaves nothing for me.  My argument with myself is that I’m the mother, it’s supposed to be like this.  But I feel like I’m dying sometimes.

More so lately.

I lost a baby recently.  Very recently.  I didn’t tell anyone because I knew from the start something wasn’t right and there would never be any good news to announce.  My hCG levels stopped rising and never went any further.  I’ve been sick from that - physically a little, emotionally a lot - and haven’t wanted to deal with anyone or anything.  Just working with Big, trying to hold onto him somehow.  Trying to keep Little under control, which is...an undertaking of such astronomical proportions that I don’t even know where to start.  He has issues of his own and I haven’t been a very effective parent for him lately.  He’s frustrated, I’m frustrated.  We’re all frustrated with each other.

I’ve been dealing with some fairly huge internalized trauma from other things as well, in recent days.  Things from the past that I never realized were tearing me up until I took steps to distance myself from them.  I won’t go into it here, right now.  You’ve seen random posts from me about it, and you’ve seen me go off on people for not understanding.  You’ll probably see more of it.  I’m just beginning to realize how bad things were.  I don’t know yet how to deal productively with any of it.

I’ll figure it out.

I don’t need someone to solve my problems.  I vent to soothe my nerves and no other reason.  It’s how I deal with whatever shit is eating me.  Please don’t feel the need to help me or try to fix anything, or even feel obligated to offer sympathy - god please don’t, because that’s not what it’s for.  If you see a rant from me it simply means I’ve hit a point where I will explode if I don’t put words to my feelings.  This is the only safe place I can do it.

Also please know that if you do say something kind to me in those moments and I don’t say anything back to you, it’s nothing you should take personally.  I love you.  I just can’t tell you that I do.

If I go quiet for days, don’t take that shit personal.  It’s nothing to do with you.

If you say something that triggers me and I get rude with you, don’t take that shit personal either.  I’m weak these days.  My whole life has been about controlling myself and my every response to everything, tiptoeing around every other human being on the planet with the enforced belief that literally everyone’s feelings are more important than my own.  That I’m not valid as an individual, that only my usefulness to other people is important.  And I’m finally done with all that.

But I don’t know how to do it right.  I’m a fucking child as far as allowing myself to react to things.  I’m having a really rough time right now and I’m getting myself through it however I can figure out.  Ignore me if you must.  Just don’t take it personal, because none of it is about you.

I’ve found some things that help me cope and make me feel better.  I’ve been keeping them separate from my main blog because I know most of you are here for one type of fandom content, and my other interests aren’t it.  But I’ve just realized...this is my blog, and I’ve spent my whole life hiding things I loved because other people didn’t like them or didn’t approve.

Not here, not anymore.  Not so much in my personal life anymore, either.  If I like it I will say so and I will share it because it makes me happy.  I’ll do art and writing for other fandoms in addition to the one you originally followed me for.  You know you’re free to share in it with me or not, I don’t have to explain that.  I’ve had my share of people claiming they would read anything I write no matter what it is, only to have them vanish the second I start writing something outside their preferred fandom.  It’s happened more often than I care to mention, but there it is.  And that’s their right and choice, I respect that.  But it’s not going to stop me from writing what I want to write.  Not anymore.

I write because I need to.  For me.  I share it with the rest of you.  People have come at me recently in the comments section at AO3 expressing their dislike over various things, and I’ve responded politely with as much accommodation as I can muster.  I think I’ve allowed a lot of reader entitlement concerning my work over the past five years, changing things to suit people even if it didn’t suit the story, simply because they barked at me about something they didn’t agree with.

I won’t be doing that anymore.  Because if you’ve read this far, you’ve likely realized at least one thing - 

Pretty much everything I write is based in some way on my own reality.

It hasn’t always been pretty.  And things get really rough sometimes or veer way off down a twisted road before they get resolved, just like life tends to do.  I don’t write a lot of easy fluff these days.  It’s your right to read it or not, but I do ask that you respect my right to write what I choose, because it’s my coping mechanism, and sometimes I have a lot to cope with.  And I do that by turning real life bullshit into something entertaining, because the best thing you can do with monsters is put a goofy hat on them so they can’t scare you anymore.

At any rate, this is a not so quick synopsis of why I haven’t been particularly fun in recent days.  I try, but it gets on top of me.  I’ve felt ignored, shunned, overlooked.  I realize that is sometimes my default assumption, that I’ve worn out my welcome and no one cares anymore.  I also realize that sometimes it’s just that other people have their own shit to deal with and they probably haven’t even noticed I was gone.  But I came back after a few days of silence to some hurtful shit that I know was done with intent, and I’m trying really hard to overlook that.

One of my few redeeming qualities though, I think, is that I bounce back fairly quick...so give me a few days, a couple of weeks, whatever, to get my bent up self back into shape.  I’m handling more than I can handle at the moment in my life outside of here, and I can’t hand it over to anyone else for even a minute.  I’m doing my best.  I’m not okay right now.

I will be, but I’m not going to rush it.

Nothing good survives being rushed.

[wordssplatteredoncement]

The World Is On Fire (and So Am I)

There are times in your life where you experience things that you know will become a memory that lasts a lifetime. Several of those moments have been pleasant in my experience. A shared moment with a friend where you realized you both inched your bond towards something more. Various parties thrown where you watched the weeks worth of thought, time, and effort payoff in a night that will be talked about for ages. A concert where the band’s connection with the crowd transcends the usual “musician/ audience” role play, and a melding of minds makes the show something unforgettable. This year has been one most won’t soon forget, but for all of the wrong reasons. 

“FUCK 2020!!” A sentiment uttered by many, and one I’ve said more than my share. The reality... 2020 isn’t the problem. The issues that have arisen have occurred due to years of neglect. The change of a calendar isn’t going to bring back the lives of hundreds of people of color who have died at the hands of those pledged to “protect and serve”. The turn of a year won’t suddenly erase a pandemic that has killed a half a million people worldwide, and shows no sign of slowing it’s destruction on any semblance of normalcy we’re yearning for. And, on a personal level, 2021 brings no promise that my body will stop feeling as though it’s trying to burn from the inside-out. Instead of leaning hard into this notion that the turn of the next 365 will somehow cure our sorrows, why don’t we take some responsibility for the moment and do our part today to ensure tomorrow is aimed in a direction of correction and healing?

I’m going to start by reflecting inward. The last time I touched this blog was nearly a year ago. I wrote about the horrible pain I’m experiencing on a daily basis. My asshole feels like Satan decided to relocate Hell inside of it. I truly feel as though like I’m on fire from the inside out. Today marks the 2 year anniversary of this pain that has completely upended up my life. Earlier this week, I had my 4th procedure in hopes of finding some reprieve from this pain and, for 2 days, I thought maybe I was healed to a level I could cope with. The pain had largely subsided... and then yesterday happened. I didn’t really see any fireworks on the 4th, but I felt them. My body ignited from beyond my balloon knot and the pain has lingered to this very moment. I spent a good portion of the day on my couch, partially in hopes of reprieve, but mostly in wallowing over another disappointment. I peeled myself off of the couch and decided to splatter a few more words in hopes that I could inspire those who give the blog a gander, but also to help myself out of a seemingly hopeless situation. 

8 minutes and 46 seconds. My 2 years of asshole-aflame don’t hold a candle to the suffering the neglect, hurt, and tyranny 5 dickheads wearing a badge made to an entire race in our country. In those near-9 minutes, we all witnessed a man completely prone and in constraints, cry out for his mother as he suffocated in cold murder. Immediate responses from cop-defenders shot out with “All Lives Matter”, “Blue Lives Matter”, and “not all cops are bad people”... Here’s the problem with all of those statements, this isn’t a one-off occurrence. This isn’t a singular police officer who went rogue. In this very instance, 4 other cops watched, with hands in pocket, as this man, George Floyd, had his life taken from him. The uprising that came in the wake of this atrocity was a natural response to the oppression of a culture long held down by those in authority. Peaceful protests over the mistreatment of African Americans have existed for years, each met with hostility in the way of thinly veiled racism and clearly falling upon deaf ears, all while more instances of death at the hands of oppressors pile up. Breonna Taylor, a 26 year old black woman, was shot in her sleep when three police officers, in plain clothes mind you, broke into her home with a no-knock warrant... erroneously... AS THEY WERE IN THE WRONG HOUSE. In both of these instances (two of hundreds, I must add), the police were not arrested until met with the pressure of the public in the form of protesting. Sure, some protests have been met with opportunists. Buildings have been burned. Statues brought down by force (and I stand that these statues dedicated to slave-owning southern leaders should have never been erected in the first place), but PEOPLE ARE DYING AT THE HANDS OF THOSE IN AUTHORITY. And yet, I hear more about these buildings and statues from our “leader” on down to people I come in contact with, than the human lives taken. White privilege at its finest, folks. I’d love to hear an “All Lives Matter”-crier, shout “All Cancer Matters” at a breast cancer awareness event to experience the absolute ignorance of that statement. Everyone matters, you dumb fucks, but there are times that call attention to a specific group... this isn’t your time. “Blue Lives Matter!!”.. you aren’t born blue.. you choose that life. You don’t choose to be a person of color. Let’s take a fucking second to recognize that there is a disparity in this world in how we are treated and figure out how we can correct our ways. 

So that brings us to the last bit of “2020″, the year is “cursed and doomed”. COVID-19, aka coronavirus. A pandemic that was written off as nothing more to be worried about than a flu by our “genius” leader. Trump compared this pandemic to the number of lives that are taken yearly by the common flu and thus created the great divide in America. Half of our country decided that everything was cool.. our president said “we’re good”. The other half, listening to the CDC, and other health experts, whose literal job is to track and control the spread and containment of disease, followed advice from those who have dedicated their life to the education of well-being. Trump slowly had to cater to those health experts when it became very clear this was something far more serious than a “flu”, and we were ordered to stay indoors. People went into bat-shit-crazy-survival mode. Toilet paper, hand sanitizer, and canned goods became the new gold as the masses flocked to stores in droves to ensure their asses were wiped, hands were.. sanitized.. and goods had a shelf life of several months. Hospital ICUs were strained as the number of people needing to be treated met new highs. We were asked to wear masks in public and keep 6 feet away from those we don’t live with. And the response from a wide number of Trump’s supporters.. “THIS IS CRAZY.. YOU’RE INFRINGING ON MY FREEDOMS.. THE ECONOMY!!!!”. As stated earlier in this blog.. human lives > businesses and the economy. Due to this outcry, backed by the moron-in-chief and his plethora of tweets (seriously.. what job have you ever had where you can sit around and call people names through social media all day long??.. certainly not mine..), the shelter-in-place orders were lifted, just as we were starting to see a leveling out in the number of cases our country was dealing with. And Americans, being as stubborn as they’ve proven to be over the years, went out en masse. With this, the number of cases has risen to absurd levels. The president, always one to find a way to suck his own cock, daily gives praise to this being accredited to the great testing he has imposed. Even taking it so far as to say we might be testing “too well” and that if we just test less.. the numbers will go down.... I’ll take a minute to let the absurdity of that statement, which he has doubled down on, sink in. I work in health care. This isn’t a joke. This isn’t a farce. This isn’t the flu. This isn’t a conspiracy. 533,000+ deaths isn’t a joke. Wear a fucking mask. Stop going out for the sake of killing boredom. Start thinking and do your part. Your parents, grandparents, and neighbors count on it.

So there you have it. 2020 hasn’t been kind but, as I’ve stated, this isn’t the problem of a singular year. This is years of neglect and a current state of ignorance. January 1st will come and go. It changes nothing. The only thing that will cure the issues we’re facing is recognizing there is indeed an issue and taking action to improve our current state. Nothing is solved if we don’t accept reality and inflect on how we can do our part to make a change. Stating “Make America Great Again” is a stupid way of saying we’ll revert to a past laced in hatred. Instead of looking over our shoulder the days that we’ve progressed from, let’s focus on a future that provides equality for all. Instead of crying about our freedoms being removed over having to stay indoors or wear a mask, let’s think about those we might be saving by stopping the spread of disease. As for my butthole.. I got off the couch to write this, all while in a fair amount of pain. I can reflect on a time I didn’t feel this, or I can accept what this is and do my part to seek improvemnt. I opt for the latter.

[withthekeyisking-writer]

How can you write the kind of things you write? What does it say about you that you can write things like your story An Active Imagination or A Loaded God Complex?

Y’know, usually I don’t reply to things like this ‘cuz I don’t think it helps anything, but I’m actually in a pretty good mood tonight, so I figured what the hell might as well

So buckle up kiddos, you’re going to get a lesson about the difference between WRITING dark shit, and actually condoning it to happen in real life/wanting it to happen in canon.

Hi, for those of you who do not know, my name is Quil! I have Dissociative Identity Disorder. This is not a thing I typically share, because people’s reactions can be pretty drastic. In fact, only the members of my family, some mental health professionals, and four of my friends even know I have it. So really, this is kind of my coming out to tumblr, because I’ve only told one person on here (shout out to @schweeeppess for being a phenomenal human being).

The reason I mention this, is because DID only forms when life has been less than ideal. (This is a grand oversimplification, but specifics aren’t the point.) The point is that I know how horrible the world can be, I’ve both seen it and experienced it. I am horrified by the evil this world puts out on a daily basis. I do not WRITE about horrible things because I want to see them happen to people – I write about them because they aren’t going to go away if I (if we) just pretend they don’t exist.

Sometimes, when I’m having bad days, exploring these dark topics helps me move past my trouble. Writing is a coping mechanism for sooo many people, I sure y’all can relate. But other times, when I’m not necessarily having bad days, I can still choose to explore dark concepts in my writing.

You know why?

BECAUSE IT’S FICTION.

Raise of hands for how many of you like disaster movies? Those are pretty cool, huh? I love watching “San Andreas”, that Dwayne Johnson movie, ‘cuz it’s super cool. Plus, y’know, Dwayne Johnson.

But NO ONE would EVER look at my enjoyment of that film and think for ONE SECOND that I would want to actually see San Andreas, California be hit with such a horrifying natural disaster.

You know WHY people would never assume that?

BECAUSE FICTION IS DIFFERENT FROM REALITY.

What one enjoys watching on a screen or reading in a book (or on a fanfiction website) has absolutely NO BEARING on what they would actually condone in real life.

Those two works you mentioned (“An Active Imagination” and “A Loaded God Complex”) are most certainly the most troubling ones I’ve written. Not the only ones, mind you, which I’m pretty sure you probably know considering you have clearly gone through my works. (Brave of you to be on Anon, by the way)

In AAI, I explore the idea of a child having their autonomy taken away and forced into being something they’re not. In ALGC, I explore a grown person being forced to interact with the person who controlled and abused them when they were younger, and what their reaction might be when faced with that same possible control.

I do both of these things by using the absurd (aka what wouldn’t happen in real life). In AAI, the main character is brainwashed. In ALGC, the world is literally about to be blown up. But at their core, the stories deal with the basis of things that happen all the time, and are never pleasant.

I know what it’s like to have my autonomy taken away. I know what it’s like to come face-to-face with an abuser years after the fact. So I took that basic concept, and turned it into a story. I explored how these things and emotions would affect characters in a FICTIONAL WORLD.

In my story “People Who Move the World”, I have characters who kill and manipulate without a second thought. I can write that because it’s FICTION, and I find it INTERESTING to think about what would happen when people like the main characters end up with power over a nation.

If I saw a story on the news about a child being held captive and abused for months, I would be absolutely heartbroken for that kid and their family – the fact that I wrote AAI has ZERO impact on the way I view the world, and the way I interact with it.

If a country was suddenly being controlled by two megalomaniacal psychopathic geniuses, I would be extremely concerned and afraid – PWMTW would be absolutely horrifying to see come to pass in the real world. In FICTION, it’s exciting to see play out.

I don’t even want any of this shit to take place in CANON, let alone where there are living breathing individuals who have to live through these things.

Do you understand what I’m saying, Anon? Does this make sense to you? Because I really don’t think exploring dark and harmful things in writing makes me a bad person. I think it simply means I’m human, and a pretty damn empathetic one at that.

Plus, there’s always the fact that if you don’t like dark shit like some of my works, you DON’T HAVE TO READ IT.

I tag my stories pretty extensively for just this kind of reason. Not everyone feels the same way as I do about facing these issues in writing, and that is PERFECTLY OK. Everyone is allowed to read and write what they want to read and write. What impact does it have on your life to simply scroll past something that makes you uncomfortable? Why do you feel the need to tell me I’m in the wrong and you’re in the right?

Take a deep breath, Anon, because everything is ok. If my stories (and MANY other people’s stories) aren’t for you, then don’t read them. Just roll on by. Find something that you enjoy, that makes you interested, that makes you happy.

And please, if you’d be so kind, stay away from my inbox.

-Quilian 😊

[bambihanson]

The altered characters + the significantly altered lore of my just now birthed Vampire AU

If you care to read it… first of all, I love you, second of all, in that case hit read more

Lore

Magicians in this universe are full blown witches; their powers are innate, they don’t get it from the world around them.

Which makes them much more powerful in a way, but they still govern themselves.

Gods are still very much a thing and witches are kind of at their mercy because they’re still the reason witches have powers in the first place

Being a witch is genetic, kind of like being a magician (basically if both your parents are witches you’ll be a witch too)

Witches are also kind of immortal; they live roughly 300-500 years, depending. But there’s no such thing as true immortality because they can be killed, along with every other supposedly immortal creature

Vampires and werewolves were both created by witches thousands of years ago

Being a werewolf is genetic (not some STD, but still, fuck a werewolf at your own risk unless you have a predator/prey kink), and they were originally created by witches to be guardians to them from other supernatural forces. However, they realized the werewolves had a few significant weaknesses, such as mortality (they live about as long as humans) and also they can be hurt/killed just as easily as a human. So then they made vampires.

Vampires are the OP version of witch guardians, as they got carried away trying to create something stronger than werewolves. They’re technically not undead, but for the sake of humanity, cannot reproduce. They need to feed on blood to keep up their energy; magic basically flows through their veins. They can do some magic because of this but not nearly to the extent of witches; mainly party trick level stuff. Like werewolves they have superhuman speed and strength, but on top of that they’re immortal and can only be killed by decapitation or a piece of wood/silver through the heart (or just straight-up ripping their heart out). Also, they’re immune to pretty much everything except wood and silver and the vampire mythos is basically human speculation from when they first popped up. Same with werewolves.

If you turn a witch into a vampire, the witch will lose their powers * Vampirism is an STD (supernaturally transmitted disease). If you get vampire blood in your blood, then you’re pretty much guaranteed to turn into one.

Brakebills still exists, as do hedge witches. Self-taught and school-taught witches still do not like each other.

The Library still exists, and they do govern witches to an extent, the only significant difference being that they don’t have any control over magic as, as stated before, it is innate and from the Gods. Granted, there are ways to limit a witch’s power when they deem necessary.* Fillory still exists, though it comes into play in a different way

Characters

Quentin Coldwater is a normal guy: still a huge nerd that’s obsessed with Fillory and Further, but normal. Until he ends up getting turned into a vampire and gets taken in by Eliot and Margo, who basically make him their little pet project. Pet is not as kinky as it sounds but there is definitely Queliot in this. Starts off stumbling, awkward, and kind of self-loathing but eventually grows into himself.

Eliot Waugh is a vampire, born in the 1860s and still has very much kept his Victorian flair. He can’t remember a majority of the 60s and 70s because he was a drugged up madman the whole time. He and Margo met in the 1980s; funnily enough at a Denny’s in the middle of the night. He’s very much a hedonist, but isn’t as aggressive with feeding as Margo: he prefers voluntary feeders that he keeps by his side. Which he was gonna try to get Quentin to agree to when oops, he fucking becomes a vampire. Which is massively unhelpful. But he manages to talk Margo into “keeping” him. His obsession with the flavor of the month is very literal in this case. 

Margo Hanson, the Vampire King of New York City (she killed the last vampire King and took his title verbatim), is pretty ruthless, but she has a soft spot. She will rip into a human like a Thanksgiving turkey no problem, and treats life and her rule the same way, though Eliot tries to be a voice of reason and will hold her back when she tries to take it too far. Basically everyone except for a few close friends are terrified of her. Her name is whispered through the vampire underworld of NYC with a mixture of fear and arousal. Despite her ferocity, she has a lot of self control when it comes to blood lust (not so much with decision making but that’s a whole other can of worms). She’s older than Eliot; she was born in the 1780s.

Julia Wicker, Quentin’s childhood best friend, stumbles across Brakebills and discovers that holy shit, she’s a witch! She does as much research as possible on vampires to try and help Quentin out. She’s still very much into the pursuit of magical knowledge. Adorable but could kick your ass with her magic. She’s one of the top students at the school and is very well aware of that as Dean Fogg says it to her face every time he sees her. 

Alice Quinn, born in the 1950s and your classic self-loathing vampire next door. She has little to no control over her bloodlust, and is basically pinned to Margo’s side because Margo actually tries to help her. Mainly because she doesn’t want any rouge vampires running around her city. Alice mainly drinks animal blood because if she gets a taste of the human stuff she goes absolutely bonkers (granted, an animal blood diet is hard for vampires as animal blood is different to the point where it’s possible to be allergic to the blood of certain species). She turns into the AU’s equivalent of Niffin Alice when she goes rouge. Also wears jeans and t-shirts all the time instead of skirts, y’all are welcome.

Kady Orloff-Diaz, the big bad werewolf chick. Helps Margo keep peace with the werewolves in the city. Kady resents being called an Alpha because that’s a myth, but she definitely takes on a natural leadership role. She’s fiercely loyal and protective of the people she cares about. Definitely someone to stay on the good side of.

Penny Adiyodi, a witch who specializes in teleportation and psychic abilities. He ends up at Brakebills as well with Julia. Has aspects of both 23 and 40 Penny; he has a good side but will not hesitate to fight you on sight if you annoy him. Begrudgingly accepts Quentin into his life because goddammit he likes Julia and he’s her favorite person so he kind of has to. Kind of into Julia and Kady at the same time and would rather not choose between them.

Josh Hoberman, a werewolf and surprisingly Kady’s right hand man. He’s very good natured and dorky, and also a stoner, but he can bake like nobody’s fucking business so Margo and Eliot like having him around.

Fen, the high Queen-King of Fillory. Calls herself this because she took on both roles after her husband (the king she was promised to) died. Very sweet and innocent, but also knows when to put her foot down and take charge. Not that Fillory isn’t still a mess, even though she’s trying her best. Tick and Rafe are her partners in crime... or, well, ruling. 

Dean Henry Fogg is still the head of Brakebills, and he’s only slightly less jaded if only because he hasn’t watched his favorite students die 39 times. Still grumpy because he’s dealing with dumbass 20-somethings, most of which are only just now discovering they can do magic, on a daily basis. He thinks Julia is the best thing to ever happen to his school and would happily kill/die for her.

Marina Andrieski, the big bad hedge witch of Brooklyn and Kady’s ex-girlfriend. Still very much chaotic neutral but cares for her friends and colleagues, though she doesn’t always show it. Definitely is the thorn in the side of a lot of witches in the city, and takes pride in that. She is the knife cat meme personified.

Todd is Todd. He will not be overlooked. Definitely kind of takes Eliot’s role as the party guy who knows everybody, though he still lacks the sophistication. Still charming in his own way, though.