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hadesoftheladies · 4 months ago

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Victim Blaming

Hoping I can keep this brief, but I have a habit of being thorough to a fault, lmao. Anyway, yesterday I had an unpleasant conversation with a radblr user who's online presence I have largely enjoyed at least, up until this point. She was frustrated with one of my posts, one where i joked about certain experiences i had with choice feminists.

She is referencing this post of mine in particular as an example of my victim blaming: (15) nearly all women who date men do so as a form of ritualized masochism: the lifeblood of female gendered socialization – @hadesoftheladies on Tumblr

I was, of course, upset at this, but I got curious as to whether or not the words I used in this post could qualify as victim blaming. I had this disquiet in me, which I usually have when a concept in my head is ambiguous and I'm struggling to define it. I want to draw a line somewhere because clarity is my one true love. So I did a little research on the general term.

First off, victim blaming is a term used in sexual assault/violence cases. That subject is the soil from which this notion of victim blaming grew into what we know it as today. FUNDAMENTALLY, victim blaming is when a victim of sexual violence is held responsible (either partially or entirely) for what happened to them. (Please keep that in mind.)

According to this article, victim blaming stems from several places:

-a desire to distance oneself from the possibility of being victimized

-a lack of empathy

-fundamental attribution error (FOA) which is the refusal to analyze external factors in favour of putting all the responsibility of the abuse on the victim

Also important to note, is that the end result of victim blaming usually results in the victim feeling ashamed or guilty for what happened to them.

Moving on, in the post this user provided as an example of me victim blaming, there's a note somewhere down there where another user called "eldopism" mentions a Lundy Bancroft quote about how victims need far more support than judgement, and how I shouldn't be making myself out to be a victim for something a man did to someone else.

maslows-pyramid-scheme also informed me that there were certain radblr users that had discussed this trend of me victim blaming straight women, so I think this serious accusation warrants a very fair and thorough response and I will use the above information on victim blaming to criticize this specific post i made about women who date men.

#1. Have I Blamed Straight Women for The Evil Men Have Done To Them?

In the above excerpt, I am drawing up a profile of a woman who is informed and not currently in a domestic hostage situation. The examples I provide are all of women I know who are unmarried and dating. One example I use is of a woman who was almost raped.

I talk about these women as active agents or "adults." They are capable of making decisions, perceiving threats, and are aware of the situations they've been in. I explicitly state that I feel anger at them, which DOES NOT MEAN I am ONLY angry at them. It is only that this anger at them is the focus of the post.

Now at a glance, anyone would say, "Yeah, this is victim blaming. You are clearly angry at a woman for almost getting raped." And I think in this case, I am partly to blame for not providing more context to that specific story.

At the point of writing this very emotional rant, the woman who was almost raped had resumed (to an even more extreme degree) endangering herself in the exact same way. When she told me what had happened, I was angry at him and horrified, but when I heard she'd gone on to be even more reckless, putting herself at more risk, that was when my anger extended to her. Both before and after the encounter, I and other mutual women in this circle, had discouraged her from fraternizing with him. This man was not attractive, neither did we find him particularly charming. They were not long-term friends and did not have any prior connections. He was a stranger that had no stake in her life. She had told us that leading up to that moment, she had not communicated what she'd wanted. Honestly, even now, I'm not too sure what was going through her head during all this and the sequence of events aren't adding up in my mind.

What I DO know is that he attempted to penetrate her without her consent and she froze as a fear response. Knowing that she found this potentially traumatizing, I wondered why on earth she then continuously went on to put herself in escalating vulnerable positions with other strangers in the exact same way.

So, victim blaming is when I would blame this woman for being nearly raped, but though I miscommunicated, that wasn't why I was angry. I was angry at this woman for disregarding this traumatizing experience. Consistently, even in the other stories, my anger is about women's decisions to re-expose themselves to predators POST victimization. Not about the victimization itself. I am not asking "what did you do to provoke him" but "why are you doing this again after what he did?"

I hope you can see the difference in both questions.

#2. Why Does She Do That?

The central theme of this post is the latter question: why the fuck are you going back? And please note, these are explicitly NOT domestic violence cases. These aren't women who live with these men or who's economic livelihoods depend on these men. These are important distinctions.

Of course, being well acquainted with theory, I know that none of our decisions are made in a vacuum. In many of my posts and also in this particular post, I acknowledge these external factors, which is why I called this cycle of "ritualized masochism" part of gendered socialization. I am explicitly acknowledging that this is a systemic issue that affects an individual's psychology, hence, interpersonal relationships. Literally in the first sentence. So I have not committed an FOA.

In this post, I also highlight the difference between me and women who make this issue out to be solely a matter of the moral failing or lack of resilience from these kinds of women. An inevitability that is better to just wash one's hands of. I DO NOT think flippantly abandoning these women to their self-destructive behaviour or acting smug about it is the right response.

#3. People That Love People Will Grieve

This post is PRIMARILY an expression of personal grief. When our loved ones are suffering or are hurt or are lost, we will, of course, feel personally affected. It is HEALTHY and IMPERATIVE that people who are supporting women or anyone, really, through difficult times or chaotic phases feel their feelings and air out their frustrations. Care-taking on any scale can and will get tiring because we are FINITE. We do not have unlimited energy to offer eternal support. That's the reality.

This anger and pain we feel is not coming from a lack of empathy but from the overwhelming presence of it. I feel for you so strongly, that every time you hurt yourself, I also feel it. When he hurts you, I am angry because I feel that hurt. When you hurt yourself, I fam angry because I feel that hurt. Because there is a part of me that is suffering as well, I get angry at the cause of that pain.

Apathy could never.

I wanted to provide an outlet to myself and other women who felt like me who had or were going through this grieving process and had frustrations as a result of having empathy while partaking in a seemingly never-ending cycle of torment.

#4. The Rescuer Isn't Coming

Which brings me to this next point.

Now I've made several responses in this thread already, but I really wanted to highlight that maslow's original criticism is that I was conflating an innate desire for a romantic relationship with men with femininity, and I was calling both ritualized masochism (which they are).

But this response really cements the absurdity of this situation for me; that is, the absurdity of choice feminism.

What really gets me about this particular response is how perfectly it poses the very same question that the post she cited says is impossible to answer: what can I do to make her life safer?

The post she cited is one that is lamenting the utter helplessness of being this support that never really improves anything because, at the end of the day, grown women will do whatever the fuck they want.

How can I make her safer when she rejects safety? How can the onus possibly be on me when I have zero power in this situation? I cannot criticize her decisions, I cannot herd all the men and shoot them into Jupiter, I can't stop her from going to club and picking these men up, I can't force her to date or believe me when I tell her that such a man is not good.

So what the fuck else is there to do but warn her? And knowing that my warnings are clearly falling on deaf ears, what the fuck else is there to do but watch or leave?

Do you not see the double bind. I am "protecting her" the only way I can: advising her to stay away.

Ultimately, it seems, maslow is upset that my solution to this whole problem is to tell straight women to forego this pursuit of a loving relationship with a man. She sees it as fundamentally self-centered, divorced from the interests and complexities of heterosexual dating and the rich inner lives of straight women.

As far as I'm concerned, there is no alternative. Radfems, of all people, know there is not. We know men do not rape because they lack education in consent. We know they rape because they want to. We know men do not abuse women because of any romanticized narrative of a tortured, guilty soul, but because it makes them feel good about themselves. Because they want to. We know men re-enforce patriarchy and misogyny, not because they "don't know" women are people but because it benefits them in some way. So WE KNOW that on a micro and macro scale, there is little we can do to appeal to men's humanity (or whatever's left rotting in its place).

So if men won't suddenly transform their hearts and rescue women, and if feminists and separatists can't get rid of men or force women to do anything, then who is left to protect these vulnerable women?

No one but their fucking selves. That's the truth. That's the point. Women are not to blame for what men do to us, but it is our responsibility to look out for ourselves because NO ONE ELSE WILL DO IT. No man is going to rescue us and no woman is going to resist the effects of socialization for us. Resistance and rebellion have to start from within and all I can do is inspire it however I can and seek freedom for myself.

The vision of separatism in feminism is one of women empowered to protect themselves, an acknowledgement of the fact that women only gain rights when we demand them ourselves. No man is going to change because we ask him to. At least, if he did, he'd be the rare exception. Which, you know, good for him. I can't be angry at a man for being genuinely good. It's always a win.

But separatism is a political strategy. "Let women try find a good man" is not. If most men are predatory toward women, then saying "find a good man among them" is shit advice. If it were a strategy, it would be a really shitty one because it CANNOT SCALE. Your political strategy should prioritize the majority of women who WILL NOT be able to find a good man that doesn't take advantage of them, otherwise, it's just elitism. Your personal hope in finding a good man is not a viable political/feminist strategy.

And if it isn't, then why are you demanding feminists take it as such?

#5. Love, Like Beauty, Is Pain

The comparison of femininity and dating men as ritualistic masochism was coming from the culture of women that romanticizes pain in love and beauty, insisting that these things are innate and inescapable, making them out to be virtues. It is glorified masochism and romanticized self-harm. The way we hurt our feet with heels, seek increasingly extreme ways to "correct" our natural physical characteristics and the way we put up with men. "Putting up with men" has been something we've been groomed to do by both our mothers, peers and men at nearly every stage.

This has become so familiar to us, that breaking free from this cycle is scarier than the anticipation of pain. This is also frequently a pointed source of my frustration in this post and other posts similar to it. This is why both femininity and sexual relationships with men are part of the same question and demand proper attention.

I am far from the first feminist to point this out, so I don't know why I'm being made out to be some sort of abuse-enabler for pointing basic feminist analysis like this out. It is this grooming that enables abuse, not advocating against it.

#6. Summary

-I committed no FOA.

-I have contextualized the suffering of these women and analyzed external factors.

-I have empathized explicitly with their pain.

Conclusion: Anti-separatist users continue to decontextualize my quotes in several other areas where context has been adequately provided (and I take responsibility for where it hasn't). The denotation of some of the things I said in this post can be accurately read as victim-blaming, but that is not my intention as one could tell from reading the rest of it. I have not called women who date or marry men anti-feminist, but I have called that decision anti-feminist/non-radical. You can be a feminist and have non-feminist interests or pursuits. That doesn't mean you're entitled to validation from feminists because we are women. Feminism is a political party, not women's club. And choice feminists keep insisting it’s the latter.

Furthermore, I don't mind people questioning my integrity, but I do sincerely ask that they bring receipts. :)

#radblr #separatism #femininity #radfem #radical feminism

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horizon-verizon · 8 months ago

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I don't know if this is exactly in your area of interest but do you know why the vitriol against Daeron II? Personally, I am more interested in the main story of Asoiaf and the period from the conquest to the dance, but I've seen a couple of posts that are very pro-DaemonxDaenerys and very Anti Martell and Daeron.Is it a ship problem or an anti-martell problem? Because what I remember is that Daenerys had the water gardens built to make her feel more comfortable and it is said that her husband was in love with her (I don't remember if it is said if at some point it was reciprocal or if they had a bad relationship)and I remember that we have rumors that Daemon liked Daenerys but I don't remember that it was said that it was reciprocal.

From what I have seen, these opinions seem to be qualified by a kind of anti-hatred towards the Martells, not because of them but because of the fans and the reading that they do pro-elia anti-rhaegar, which in reality Anti-dany and I really don't understand why these posts villainize Daeron as if it were his fault that the war broke out? And wasn't Daemon married? Or does that get in the way of the epic love story with Daenerys?

(AWoIaF -- "The Targaryen Kings" -- "Daeron II")

The people you refer to who hate Daeron do so because he married off a 15 year old Daenerys to much older Maron Martell to build an alliance with Dorne and bring them into the official fold and under the crown's authority. AND because they believe that DaenerysxDaemon B. had a mutual love for each other, so Daeron separated two lovers. From what is told to us, the impression is that Maron treated her well, if his allowing her to bring critique of Dorne's class divides has any indication (the Gardens). Daemon hadn't been married at this time. And we don't have proof that their feelings was reciprocated or even which side had feelings for each other and which did not, etc. They also had only 2 years between them in age, Daemon and Daenerys.

"It has been said in the years after Daemon Blackfyre proved a traitor that his hatred of Daeron began to grow early."

One, like Fire & Blood, A World of Ice & Fire is, in-world, a historical text written by a maester and its geared towards showing Robert Baratheon & the Lannisters in a more positive light with typical maester/Faith anti magic, xenophobia, & ignorance (sometimes acknowledged) of Essos at certain points.

Two, It's possible that this relationship only exists for a way Daemon's supporters to maintain Daemon's rightfulness towards his legacy, or that they exaggerate. A few of his kids survived, as we know, and would birth/sire people who'd attempt to take the throne.

On the whole, I am like you, prefer to think about and discuss pre-conquest-Dance and the main series and largely because there's dragons and there's more women in the center of the narratives told. I'm the other side of the phenomenon of men losing interest in stories with women centered more; if I see stories with little active or centered women, irdgaf.

#asoiaf asks to me #daeron ii #daenerys targaryen #daemon blackfyre #awoiaf characterization #awoiaf #asoiaf #character ages #the blackfyre rebellions #women in westeros #daemon blackfyre's characterization #daeron ii's characterization #daenerys targaryen [ii]'s characterization #daenerys targaryen (naerys' daughter)#daenerys targaryen (aegon iv's daughter)#maron martell #myriah martell

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south-sea · 2 years ago

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☆-happy headcanon ☮️-friendship headcanon ♦️-quirks/hobbies headcanon

for your Metal and Shadow AU!

WOO! feelin' good!

☆ - happy headcanon

i like to think of shadow as the type of person who finds joy in the little things. he could be out and about doing objectively fun activities, and it's still going to be the quiet moments after the excitement's died down where he's just watching the sunset with someone that really completes the day. it's wearing an apron and making home recipes until the whole house is filled with the scent of savory sweets, it's taking a second to just walk down a forest path or lying in a field of flowers and feeling the breeze in his fur, it's sitting shoulder to shoulder or in a pile on the couch while watching a movie, it's getting his achy hands massaged after a long day.

for metal it's the same but different. sure he gets a certain sort of joy out of making a ruckus, roughhousing, or generally just causing destruction, but the things that actually make him happy, the things that make his eyes switch from red to blue for how overwhelmed with fondness he is, are the quieter, more mutual moments with shadow. the moments where he gets to see his efforts have been worth it-- that his cherished person is safe and in good spirits. metal does not need, want, or ask for much, but so long as his self-chosen purpose is fulfilled, he's content. in particular, he's especially fond when shadow takes the time to buff out any scratches or scuffs in his paint, and generally any attention paid to his appearance despite the fact metal himself cares very little about it otherwise.

☮ - friendship headcanon

i'll answer this one from the angle of "how easy it is for them to make friends" since it's not something i've had the chance to talk about before--

metal is exceptionally difficult to actually "befriend". he very literally categorizes people, and those categories aren't exactly a spectrum. either you're shadow, someone who benefits him/shadow, or you're Just Some Guy. maybe if you're lucky he'll classify you as "durable enough to roughhouse with", which from an outside perspective might look friendly. after all, metal's idea of "playing" is throwing people halfway across a field or suplexing them if they've even slightly inconvenienced him, so one might assume him finding people he doesn't have to worry about accidentally hurting would mean he likes them, right? ... nope. it just means he likes having a loophole where he can get away with it without being scolded.

metal doesn't have "friends". he has people he's protective of (rare), the equivalent of business associates, and people who mean nothing to him beyond the fact he can just hulk them over his shoulder without someone else scolding him for it.

shadow isn't nearly as cold about it, but he does have a tendency to subconsciously hold people at arm's length. from an outside perspective, he could be as kind and helpful as can be to a person to the point one would assume he thinks very highly of them, but from his perspective, they're not any more special than the last random person he interacted with. he encounters a lot of people, some of which he tends to habitually help given he sees himself as somewhat of a nurse, but there's a certain magic in letting single meetings be just that.

you could argue it's just really rare for him to bridge the gap from "acquaintance" to "friend", or you could think of it as "he's really bad at realizing when someone actually qualifies as a friend". sometimes it's both. usually it's just the latter if he's met the person several times. typically though, he really is just perfectly neutral. he gets along with certain types of people better than others, sure, but he's not really the one to go out of his way to interact with them unless they really click. (hell, even metal was a matter of "this guy just lives here now, i guess", so they were in more regular contact than average, and it wasn't intentional on shadow's part.)

♦ - quirks/hobbies headcanon

shadow has so many hobbies and they are all over the board. he's generally the type to go through phases of interest where he just focuses on/picks up something at random, and if it sticks, it sticks. this was especially common in the earlier days when he was trying to figure out what it was he wanted to do for himself, so there's even completely mundane things like cloud watching. whether or not he still considers it an active hobby or not, he can semi-reliably identify cloud formations. clouds and earth-like weather was one hell of a novelty for a while, considering space was all he knew prior.

photography was his first and continues to be the main one, though: at this point he's got a whole portfolio and takes up commissions whenever the mood strikes. branching off from photography is scrapbooking; he even has a separate (polaroid) camera specifically for it. he's kept up with it regularly since shortly after his revival. it goes without saying that a lot of this also involves just generally wandering around/exploring. he'll snap pics of whatever strikes his fancy or seems novel. one of his favorite subjects is finding out-of-place things in the middle of nowhere, like a particularly unique tree compared to the rest around it, a single flower, long-abandoned campsites, completely overgrown ruins, etc.

apart from that, he dabbles a little in cooking (only when he finds something he really likes, otherwise he prefers to think of this particular hobby as "exploring food/new places to eat"), gardening, creating secret bases, or taking on missions of varying levels of danger. given these missions/explorations tend to take up so much of his time these days, he doesn't have as much motivation to just try out random things anymore, but i could absolutely see him learning bass/electric guitar if there was ever a reason or motivator to.

metal has exactly one hobby that doesn't involve being a destructive little thing: collecting data. he keeps profiles on just about every person he meets, every place he visits, and records even seemingly irrelevant information. i liken him to a walking library, and he takes his role as a "librarian" very seriously.

the information isn't for anyone or to serve any purpose but his own satisfaction/entertainment (unless it is medically relevant/a safety precaution). very rarely will he take commissions to scour a world for information on xyz thing, simply because he prefers to just hoard the knowledge to himself. he's not interested in being helpful to literally anyone but his people/himself, and has no real need for money after a certain copper-stripping stunt he pulled early on.

#sea answers #lovelyheartclover #second chance au #these are so fun thank you!!#i never know when a post is actually too long and should be readmore'd so @ anyone please let me know if this one's pushing it akdjgkjh

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monsterkisserlove · 3 years ago

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The Mirror Image: Chapter One

What will you do with your massive crush on maybe the kindest Orc you’ve ever met and your scheming best friend...

TW/CW: Drinking and being drunk.

Pairing: M Orc/F reader

a/n: SFW but will become NSFW as the chapters go on, those chapters will be well marked though. However, under 18s DNI! This blog and these fics ain’t for you.

Cold wind staining your cheeks pink, you hummed hello to your co-workers as you backed through the door to the aptly named salon, The Mirror Image, while holding onto the precariously stacked take out coffees for dear life. Letting out a deep sigh of relief that not a drop had been spilled on the floor that you had so diligently cleaned earlier, seeing as you were the salon apprentice.

Making the rounds between different beauticians stations, you dropped off the hot, caffeinated drinks to your colleagues that weren't with clients currently and left the rest as well as a collection of warm pastries in the shared staff room.

Now, collecting coffee and sweeping hair wasn't where you thought you’d be at this point in your career however that's not all you was doing. The Mirror Image was a hair salon that prided itself on being able to perform all hair services for anyone in the city.

Whether they be Human, Orc, Naga, Centaur, the list really does go on. You were more than qualified to work with Human hair, and often took those clients so you’re still able to make a great deal more money than a normal apprentice. That and your co-workers and teachers at The Mirror Image were absolutely lovely and eager to take you under their wings, sometimes quite literally. So you took the occasional coffee fetching and grunt work easily as you knew it wouldn't be forever and on packed mornings with nothing to show you it really did help the salon out and boost morale.

Out in the staff room, you were singing along quietly to whatever was playing on the radio as you used your allotted time to sort through pictures for your portfolio. Evidence that you had mastered certain skills and had good feedback from both assessors and clients alike. Taking a moment to sip your now cooled coffee, you selected a few pictures of the Nagas you'd been working with recently. Naga hairstyling was the first unit you’d started, not actually having been at The Mirror Image all too long.

Ren, a long-time friend, being the star of a lot of these photos in the early days before you were allowed to practice on real clients-, under supervision of course! While Nagas had no cultural or ritual value to their hair, they did have very sensitive scalps and a Naga in pain is likely to strike.

Tucking a curly lock of hair behind your ear, you set to work on your coursework. The day went quickly after that, some cleaning done, some human clients dealt with and two Naga clients interested in the apprentice discount! Excellent! Two more quality photos for your portfolio and glowing reviews! The manager of the salon, an intimidating looking harpy but absolute sweetie once you talk to her, had said that you'll soon be moving onto the Orc module of training.

All you'd been asked to do was to research Orcish hairstyles and braids, maybe even ask an Orc friend if you could practice traditional braids. Within reason of course... Orcish braids were the opposite of Naga hairstyles, you didn't need to worry so much about touch but you did need to worry about the cultural meaning.

Within Orc communities braids meant everything.

Whether it meant family, if they'd come of age, their military position if they had one and... Most importantly, their relationship status.

Orcish braiding was incredibly complex for those very reasons, even the placement of the silver beads or gold cuffs could completely change the meanings.

Ah well, you were meeting up with Ren and your mutual friend, Khureg, tonight for a few drinks seeing as it was a Saturday.

And Khureg was an Orc.

Maybe you could ask him? He's always been so good when you just wanted to try practicing a new style. Khureg was always the first to offer, plus he had lovely, long hair and had absolutely no qualms with sitting still and just letting you do what you wanted so long as you didn't cut it at all.

You were sure that so long as you respected that you couldn't practice just anything without explicit permission, he'd be more than happy to help.

Sigh.

Khureg was so nice, not to mention handsome and amazing with animals too! What a dreamboat right? Khureg worked for a veterinary clinic that specialised in caring for and rehabilitating animals that found themselves caught in sticky situations. Your favourite photo of him being the one where he had several kittens of all different colours asleep in his lap after having found them just left by the side of the road. Gods, despite how big he was and how intimidating he could look, he was just so gentle.

Sometimes on sleepless nights, your hand inching down yourself, you wondered if he'd be just as gentle with you, or maybe rougher if you could make him lose control...

No. Now was not the time for those thoughts.

He's your friend! And only your friend, he wasn't interested in you like that. Khureg is so sweet, you weren't about to ruin the friendship you'd formed, he was far too kind to make him feel uncomfortable because you came onto him. Plus, as mentioned earlier, he was so sexy! And you, well you were cute you guessed? Definitely not up to his standards at least, or so you thought.

Wrapping your moss green scarf tighter around you, you stepped out of the salon and waved goodbye to the stylists still working before pulling your phone out of your pocket. Pulling up Rens number, you hit dial, the phone only ringing twice before they picked up.

"Hey darling, you still coming for drinks tonight?" Ren asked straight away, only one thing on their mind.

You giggled at their incessant need to socialise. "Yes of course I am, I'm on my way now from the salon, um-, is Khureg...," you trailed off, praying that you kept that hopeful note from your voice. The gods are not on your side today.

"Yes, Khureg will be there tonight, why haven't you asked him out already!? I've told you he likes you!" Ren scolded you, it wasn’t the first time you and them had had this conversation.

Rolling your eyes so hard that you were pretty sure that they could physically hear the motion, you snarked back, “I remember what you said, Ren, just... Y’know I really don’t think it’s true, like he said that he liked me but he was tipsy at the time?”

“Yeah, we’d had a couple of drinks at that point but I don’t think-,” you cut Ren off midsentence.

“People say crazy things when they’re drunk, Ren! You know that better than anyone! Last time me and you went out to that underground club, you were so wasted that you wrapped yourself ‘round a bouncer and told him that you wanted to be a giant slinky and then you asked him to push you down the stairs!” You chortled at Ren’s scoff of indignation, as you stepped out to cross the road now that traffic had died down.

“Look, that was a messy, messy, night but I still stand by what I said... That minotaur was hot,” you snorted at your friends' antics, “just think about it! Khureg is always to first to offer to help you with literally anything! Last week you mentioned that you were annoyed with how your kitchen table wobbles and the man turns up an hour later with a tool kit! What can I say at this point to convince you that he really does like you!? At this point I think I need to start taking desperate measures...”

Well, that was worrying, Ren wasn’t the kind of person to say things like that lightly. Afterall their name on your phone is ‘Chaos Co-ordinator’. “Hey, don’t go and do anything crazy please seeing as work just told me I’m moving onto the Orc unit of work. I really need Khureg to help me out here as I’m gonna need it, all the braids look so complex!”

Unbeknownst to you, Ren was already at the bar waiting for their friends to arrive, nursing a particularly large cocktail and scheming with the particularly pretty Orcish bartender that he’d met that night...

“Really?” Asked Ren, “, -not that I don’t think you’re ready!” They added quickly after you let out a squeak in protest. “You’re so amazing at doing Naga hair, just that there’s still one thing you haven’t done yet, it’s a medium difficulty braid, and I would have thought that it would be the perfect transitionary step between the two different cultural styles.”

Wracking your brain, you just couldn’t think what they were talking about. Surely one of your trainers or your course lead would have mentioned this but... None of them were Naga’s and you weren't about to argue with someone who actually lived the culture.

“Oh right, I better get on that then, do you think that you’d be free-,” Ren cut you off quickly and apologetically. “No, sorry darling, I’m going to be shedding in the next couple of weeks and my skin is already feeling so sensitive. Maybe you could ask Khureg? Where it’s not an Orcish braid, you won’t need to worry about the relevance or anything and I know that he’s got some time off work over the next week.”

The bar was coming into view as you walked down the street, The Frisky Fae written in cursive neon overhead. It wasn’t a dive bar per se but it certainly wasn’t somewhere you brought your family.

“Look, I’m just arriving, I’ll talk to you about it properly in just a second.” You exchanged pointless goodbyes seeing as you would be seeing them in less than a minute and pocketed your phone.

It would be interesting to braid Khureg’ hair, you’d never done it before and this did seem like the perfect way to get started. That and the feel of twisting and weaving his silken hair between your fingers made your stomach clench.

Ducking beneath the doorway you spotted your friend at the bar trying to charm the bartender who was at least double their height. As Orcs went, she was tall. That explained Ren’s interest, they just loved people bigger than them.

The deep red and amber colours of their scales lining their scales and extenuating those sharp cheekbones beautifully.

Gods, was Ren pretty.

“Hey Ren, should we grab our usual booth?” You asked as you leaned against the bar next to them now that the bartender had moved seeing as your friend had successfully given her their phone number and had moved on to make other customers drinks.

Agreeing with you, you and Ren both moved over to the comfortably spacious booth and made yourselves at home on the black leather cushioned seats.

“So,” you started, “this braid then? Do you have any pictures?”

Ren shook their head, “No, sorry sweet, but I’ll make sure to send you one before you practice with your beau.” The Naga supplied helpfully.

If you had a drink, you would’ve choked on it, either way the comment did turn you bright, flaming red.

“He’s not my beau!” You hissed, before rubbing your face and sighing glumly. “He’s not my anything...”

“Who’s not your anything?” A deep voice rumbled gently from next to you, a large, familiar shadow falling across the table.

Oh perfect.

Khureg heard that.

Chapter 2

#monsterkisserlove #my writing #the mirror image #monster boyfriend #monster fucker #monster writing #sfw #tw alchohol mention #orcs #orc boyfriend #orc x reader #monster x reader #reader fic

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canonical-transformation · 2 years ago

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Okay, now I have a need. Please entreat a humble mutual with some autistic Shinobu headcanons. Just a morsel to get me through.

Autistic Kuki Shinobu

barely even headcanons

Rules and systems

Character story 3 is about her getting really annoyed about superstitions and pointless rules. Classic "I can't believe these so called experts betrayed me" arc.

She's not against rules and systems, though. She did a law degree and not even to get a job in law.

“Huh? Why are [the Arataki Gang] willing to follow my rules? Because both my words and my fists are very persuasive.”

The "autists socialise different" trope

Highly qualified woman gravitates towards found family full of misfits, because she absolutely sees herself as an outsider

“I've learned how to read people based on their expressions and body language. Besides, nine times out of ten, it's the gang getting in trouble. I don't mind putting on a face to get us out of a sticky predicament, but I still prefer not to smile.”

She can do social niceties but hmph.

She hates smiling and it's pointless and why does everyone ask her to? Here have a mask you assholes.

Also her view on accreditations is adorable.

“Come find me if you ever suddenly want to become certified in anything. I'll lend you all my notes for the exam. Believe me, my notes are detailed enough to help anybody pass.”

...i.e. she has a system and it works and maybe it's a hyperfocus but shh

“...I'm still not certain about a Vision's assessment criteria.”

*pats gently on head* I'm sorry but I'm not sure even Celestia is clear on this

(I mean. I have my own theories, specifically, "you made such a stereotypically Raiden Ei mental move that someone was like 'yeah, Archon material". But that's not a set of rules and my own hc annoys me as much as it would annoy Kuki.)

“How can there be lines of work where you can find employment without the right qualifications? It boggles the mind.”

I'm torn between (1) "Shinobu, please understand that there are other forms of signalling which work just as well, like, say, prior work experience", and (2) "allists hire on Vibe and they invented unconscious bias(*) and I hate them"

(* autists also experience unconscious bias. Autists are not a magically enlightened superior subrace, no matter how tempting that is to believe when I'm annoyed.)

I suspect that, unfortunately, Kuki shares Ei's gullibility on certain fronts and the word "certification" is a weak point for her critical thinking. She'd get a life coach certificate, pseudoscience or not. Or, uh, a Kissing With Tongue certificate.

Other headcanons

Sara and Yanfei are some of her best friends because they are the sanest, most normal people

She learned all the ninjitsu backflip stuff when she was younger and thought that being named Shinobu meant she had to know that stuff

Miyuki is pretty neurotypical and they're both trying really hard to stay in touch but they're on really different wavelengths

(side note: I loved the Shinobu+Miyuki reconciliation in the ends justify the beans)

Shinobu wasn't there for the Itto character quest because she'd just gotten her Vision back and was renewing her nidan in kusari-fundou.

...and she has no idea why people joke about the electro chain whip. It's light, flexible, and deadly in skilled hands. What's so funny?

(yes even after Sara asked her to hit her with it "to better understand what weapons I may encounter on the battlefield", and then moaned)

#autistic!shinobu #genshin impact #silly headcanons #maybe not so silly tbh #(it's an organisational tag at the end of the day)#kuki shinobu #wait fuck I haven't done her hangout!?#ok that's going on the todo list #asks #narcoticwriter #neurodivergence

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missmentelle · 4 years ago

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What is reactive abuse?

“Reactive abuse” occurs when the victim of abuse lashes out at their abuser - by striking back at them, screaming, swearing at them, insulting them or even throwing something at them - in response to the abuse that they are experiencing. This is actually an extremely common behaviour in domestic violence victims, and it’s one of the most important tools an abuser has for convincing other people that the victim is the real abuser in the relationship, and that the abuser is actually the one being abused.

Consider these scenarios:

Scenario 1: Sam is abusive to his partner, Erin. He constantly criticizes and belittles her, although he never raises his voice and always does so in a calm, matter-of-fact way. He tells her that her clothes are too revealing for her, and that she should go put on some baggy clothes until she’s lost some weight. He comments on everything she eats and asks if she “really needs” to be eating it. He compares her to his friends’ wives and asks why she can’t look like them. He talks down to her like she’s stupid, and criticizes her cooking, her cleaning, her spending, and her appearance. After weeks of relentless criticism, Erin snaps - she screams at Sam to fuck off and leave her alone, and locks herself in her room.

Scenario 2: John is abusive to his partner, Raj. John likes to physically intimidate Raj by looming over him, backing him into corners, standing in doorways to prevent him from leaving, and punching holes in walls and smashing things when he gets angry. One day, during an argument, John grabs Raj by the arm and starts screaming in his face. Raj tells John to let go of him, but John ignores him and instructs Raj to “look at me when I’m talking to you”. Desperate to get away, Raj shoves John in the chest as hard as he can, and John falls backwards.

In these scenarios, Erin and Raj are the ones lashing out... but they are also the victims in these situations, and not the perpetrators. These are examples of reactive abuse; they are lashing out because they are under extreme stress from being constantly abused, not because they are abusive themselves. If they were in a non-abusive relationship, they wouldn’t scream or shove their partners - it’s the abuse itself that is driving them to behave that way.

Once a victim begins to display reactive abuse, the abuser will almost always use it against them. The abuser will constantly bring up the reactive abuse, presenting it as evidence that the victim is unstable and irrational, and that they themselves are actually the victim of their partner’s totally unpredictable behaviours and moods. Sam, for instance, can use Erin’s outburst as “proof” that she’s the abusive one in the relationship - when he talks about the incident, he can say “I was just trying to have a calm, rational conversation with her and she started screaming at me out of the blue. I tried to calm her down but she just wouldn’t listen - she told me to fuck off and then locked me out of our bedroom for hours. I feel like I’m walking on eggshells around her, anything can set her off”.

Bringing up reactive abuse is a way for the abuser to win the sympathy of friends and family, turn people against the victim, and leave the victim even more isolated. They can even convince professionals that the victim is the abusive one, and use that as a weapon against the victim - if Sam goes to a therapist and gives a biased account of Erin’s “totally irrational” screaming fit, it’s very likely that the therapist will take his side and tell him what he wants to hear. Then he can truthfully come home and tell Erin that his therapist thinks she’s toxic and abusive, and that Sam shouldn’t have to put up with her.

Eventually, constantly being told that you’re the abusive one - with several real-life examples listed as evidence - will probably start to convince you that you really are the abusive one in the relationship, even if you are genuinely the victim. Raj, for instance, has now actually hit his partner - that’s a line that John has never crossed, even through John is the physically abusive partner and Raj is the victim. It’s going to be very easy for John to use that against Raj, and convince Raj that he’s the real abuser, especially since Raj’s self-esteem is probably already poor from being in an abusive relationship. Once Raj starts to believe that maybe he really is the abusive one after all, it’s going to be much easier for John to control him, and it’ll be much harder for him to escape the relationship - he’ll no longer feel like he “deserves” or qualifies for help from domestic violence agencies, he’ll be inclined to blame himself for the issues in the relationship, and he may even start to feel like he should be grateful to John for staying with him and “trying to help him”.

Some other important things to know about reactive abuse:

Reactive abuse is NOT mutual abuse. “Mutual abuse” is the term for a relationship where both people are abusers going into it, and both people abuse each other equally and are equally to blame for the abuse in the relationship. That’s not what this is. For one thing, mutual abuse is extremely rare, to the point that experts aren’t totally convinced that it exists - abuse requires a power dynamic where one person tries to assume control over the other, and that power dynamic just doesn’t work both ways. A person who commits reactive abuse is not an abuser - they are a person under extreme stress, and they stop reacting that way as soon as they are out of the abusive relationship. A genuine abuser shows the same pattern of abusive behaviour in all of their relationships, over and over again.

Almost everyone will commit reactive abuse in certain circumstances. If you kick a dog enough times, the dog will eventually bite you. Some will bite you quicker, some will take longer to bite you, but they will all bite you at some point. Being under extreme stress changes a person - when you live with that kind of abuse day in and day out, the strain of it will eventually start to affect you in profound ways, and cause you to lash out and doing things you would never do otherwise. There’s nothing you can really do to cope with that kind of abuse in a healthy way while it’s still happening- the only way to recover is to leave. Many survivors of domestic abuse say that they barely recognized themselves near the end of the relationship, and did not know the person that they became after years of enduring abuse.

People who have committed reactive abuse are not abusers. A person who has committed reactive abuse under extreme circumstances is not a danger to their future partners. Again, pretty much everyone will commit reactive abuse if they are pushed to the brink by months or years of relentless abuse - when someone is no longer being subjected to that abuse, they no longer have a reason to lash out. The fact that you’ll throw a punch while you’re being attacked by a coyote does not mean that you are likely to go home and punch your pets; the fact that you will commit violence in one very extreme and dangerous circumstance does not mean that you will commit violence in normal circumstances.

Reactive abuse is one of the reasons why regular therapy is not recommended for abusers. When abusers learn more about abuse and boundaries in regular therapy, they don’t recognize their own abusive tendencies - they just get better at accusing their victims of being the real abusers. They are uniquely skilled at weaponizing therapy and therapy language to convince the people around them that their partner is irrational and that they, the abuser, are actually the long-suffering victim. An abuser who is actually serious about getting help needs to do so from a specialized abuser program - they need a professional who is knowledgeable about reactive abuse and will say “hmmmm, but what were you saying to Erin BEFORE she yelled at you? I don’t think you’re the victim here.”

As always, if you suspect that you may be in an abusive relationship, it’s important to seek help - there is help available to you, even in the midst of a pandemic. Call your local domestic violence hotline, contact a local domestic violence agency, or call 211 in Canada or the USA to learn about local options in your area. Hope this answers your question! MM

#AnsweredByMM #anxious-american

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the--sad--hatter · 4 years ago

Text

Steam - Chapter 1 (Loki x Reader)

Warnings - Loki, Smut, Violence & Gore, Swearing, Death, Angst, Dark Humour, Crack Humour, Shenanigan’s, Mutual Pining

Pairing - Loki X Reader (Slow Burn Romance), Enemies to Frenemies to Idiots in Love

Reader Description - Female, No physical descriptions, Only referred to by nicknames & Petnames (No use of Y/N)

Description/Blurb -

“So how’d you get the firepower? What’s your origin story?” Stark asked, peering at you curiously.

“Uh, this is my origin story…” You winced, sighing when he motioned for you to elaborate, “I got these powers about three days ago.”

It’s a tale as old as time, boy meets girl, boy tries to invade girls mind, girl sets boy on fire, boy turns into angry blue boy, they become sworn enemies.

When you suddenly become imbued with a power you have no idea how to control, Nick Fury picks you up and dumps you on The Avengers doorstep, deciding that they are best people to turn you from a wacky novice into a force to be reckoned with.

The power burning inside you has the potential to make you a hero, or destroy you completely, but your new fire based abilities are more than they appear, and in a stroke of spectacularly bad luck, The God of Mischief is the most qualified teacher to mentor you. With Loki guiding you, will you ever learn to control your power? Will you ever make it as an Avenger? Or will you crash and burn?

Only one thing is absolutely certain, when fire and ice collide, things are bound to get… steamy!

Chapter One - Ice Breaker

It was every bit as imposing as you’d imagined it would be, not that you’d ever imagined seeing it under these circumstances.

“Are you coming?” Fury barked at you, breaking you out of your slack-jawed awe.

You snapped your mouth closed and tore your eyes away from the legendary tower, looking at the doors where Fury was impatiently waiting for you.

“Coming!” You squeaked, scurrying over to him, “It’s just when you said you were taking me somewhere where I could safely learn to control my powers, I was sort of picturing an underground bunker in the desert, not the freaking Avengers Tower!”

“I utilise the assets I have, why would I send you away when I have a team of perfectly capable super-powered individuals?” He asked wryly, leading you across the lobby and straight past the security teams who did nothing to stop you both as you made your way into an elevator.

“I’m just saying, a heads up would have been nice.” You muttered petulantly, crossing your arms over your chest and tucking your hands out of sight.

You felt him look at you and studiously refused to meet his eye, staring instead at the numbers above the door as you were carried all the way to the top of the Tower.

“Heads up, you’re meeting The Avengers.” He shot back.

You could say what you liked about the former director of Shield, he was true to his word, because the elevator doors wooshed open to reveal a waiting crowd of Avengers, all of them staring at the man next to you with varying levels of annoyance and/or distrust. You diligently pattered after Fury as he stepped forward to greet them, looking around the room reverently.

The first person you laid eyes on was Tony Stark, Iron Man; the billionaire who had kicked off the modern age of hero’s, and next to him, Captain America, the first of the first, the OG Superhero. Stood behind the Captain was Sam Wilson, the Falcon and a personal favourite of yours, side by side with Bucky Barnes, the former Winter Soldier and poster-child for taking back control of your own fate. Clint Barton aka Hawkeye and the deadliest marksman in the world stood to the side with the Black Widow, deadliest person in the world full stop. In the back of the room two other figures were hanging back, emitting two very different aura’s. Doctor Bruce Banner eyed Fury with trepadition, and well-placed mistrust.

It was the last person in the room that the majority of your attention was reserved for, the tall, imposing god who skulked in the shadows. Contempt and boredom radiated from him, and you couldn’t safely say it was directed purely at Fury. He was also the only one who spared you more than a cursory glance, and you slowed to a stop as you found yourself trapped in his curious gaze. You stared back, trying to reconcile the villain who once tried to subjugate the planet with the one you were locking eyes with. It had been months since he had joined the Avengers, but it never stopped being strange to see him standing with them whenever you watched footage of them taking on whatever bad guy of the week they were battling. However, he had been fully cleared of any wrongdoing in the battle of New York, apparently he had been mind-controlled. As to why he was helping the Avengers, nobody really knew.

Someone cleared their throat loudly and you forced yourself to look away from the stupendously tall god, glancing around the room to see that you now had all eyes watching you expectantly. Apparently you’d zoned out for the introductions.

“’Sup?” You offered, waving in Tony Starks general direction.

“So you’re Fury’s fiery friend, what has that got to do with us?” Stark sighed.

“What, you think he bothered to explain his reasoning to me before dragging my ass up here?” You scoffed.

“She’s here because she has abilities, abilities that she is more likely to learn to handle among similarly gifted people.” Fury explained in a tone that brokered no argument.

Naturally, The Avengers argued.

“We don’t have anybody with fire abilities.” You heard Natasha Romanoff point out, just before you took the opportunity to zone out again.

You were absolutely certain that nobody cared very much what your opinion on the matter was, thankfully. You weren’t sure you had an opinion on the matter. It wasn’t like you had a lot of experience with these kinds of issues, and as far as you were away there wasn’t some superhero academy that you could enrol yourself in. Besides, you were much more interested in re-instating your staring competition with the god of Mischief.

In the brief time you’d been distracted, he’d stepped away from the shadows and moved closer to you, staring at you with his arms crossed.

You resisted the urge to inhale deeply, who knew ex-murderous gods would smell so nice? You looked up, and then up again.

“How tall are you?” You asked incredulously.

His gaze flickered down at you impassively, while you stared back and tried to mentally calculate his height.

“I’m a Frost Giant.” He stated coldly.

“Oh in that case, you’re kinda short.” You scoffed.

You were flooded with immediate remorse but it was drowned out by amusement.

“I beg your pardon?” He demanded, uncrossing his arms and stepping into your personal space.

“Down boy.” Iron Man sniggered, stepping between you. “So how’d you get the firepower? What’s your origin story?” Stark asked, peering at you curiously.

“Uh, this is my origin story…” You winced, sighing when he motioned for you to elaborate, “I got these powers about three days ago.”

“So you’re a baby.” He stated matter-of-factly.

“If I say yes does that mean I can just sit on the floor and cry until someone picks me up and holds me?” You asked, fully willing to give it a go.

It had been three days since your life had literally gone up in flames, three days of pinning your arms at your sides, afraid to close your eyes, afraid to let your guard down for even a split second, afraid to allow yourself to feel even an iota of emotion.

“So how did it happen?” The Captain asked firmly, getting the conversation back on track before you could find out if anyone would volunteer a hug.

“I, well, I kind of…” You trailed off and looked at Fury for help, but he just stared back at you, the bastard.

All eyes were on you as they waited for you to explain, nobody offering any kind of help. You exhaled forcefully and slumped your shoulders, tucking your chin so you didn’t have to look at them anymore.

“I ate a bomb.” You whispered.

There was a very long beat of silence before it was broken by several voices all at once.

“I’m sorry, what?” Stark demanded.

“What did it taste like?” The archer wondered, looking at you almost giddily.

“She didn’t eat a bomb.” Fury finally stepped in to clarify, “She absorbed the blast, after failing to defuse it.”

“Why was a civilian defusing a bomb in the first place?” Captain Rogers asked sharply, glancing at you in concern before turning back to Fury with a hard expression.

“I’m not a civilian, I’m actually an Agent.” You reasoned.

“She’s an Agent-In-Training.” Fury rebutted. “It was her first mission in the field.”

“Baby.” Stark reiterated, faking a cough and smirking at you when you scowled at him.

That was true, and you still didn’t think it was entirely your fault that the bomb had gone off. Yes you’d failed to diffuse it, but you were supposed to be watching the perimeter when you’d stumbled across the explosive device. It had less than thirty seconds on the clock, and you’d stupidly chosen to spend those seconds trying to stop it detonating instead of running away.

“And you put her on bomb duty? Were you trying to get her blown up?” The Black Widow demanded, and you almost laughed until you saw the serious expression on her face.

“There wasn’t supposed to be a bomb there, she was in the wrong place at the wrong time.” Fury shrugged, like it was inconsequential.

To him it probably was.

“She is still in the room, and I was exactly where you told me to be, when you told me to be there. If your intel was bad, that’s on you Mr Superspy.” You snapped.

“Oh I see it now!” Stark briskly announced, “You’re trying to pawn her off on us because she’s too sassy for you.”

“Precisely.” Fury admitted, surprisingly.

“In the words of shortstack over there,” You hissed, gesturing at Loki “I beg your pardon?”

“You don’t have the temperance to be an Agent.” Fury told you blankly, not bothering to soften the blow by at least telling you this in private instead of in front of the world greatest heroes.

“I’d take that as a compliment.” Stark assured you.

“You’re telling me I’m fired? Literally. Because I got blown up, through no fault of my own?” You huffed, clenching your firsts in an effort to keep your emotions from manifesting in a fiery inferno of rage.

“Because you choose to try and handle a bomb you had no training to handle, instead of pursuing the target.” Fury amended, unphased by your distress.

You bit back your retort because you knew it wouldn’t matter to him in the slightest. You couldn’t reason with him, couldn’t explain that you had made the choice not to pursue the target who’d planted the bomb, because you had to try and stop it exploding in a building filled with innocent people. Maybe Fury was right after all. Maybe you weren’t suited to being an Agent, because an Agent would have known that they couldn’t stop the bomb but they could stop the bomber. They would have let a hundred innocent people die and stopped the killer from killing a thousand more the next time. You weren’t an Agent because you’d chosen to die trying to save the hundred, and trusted in Fury and Hill to take down the Bomber.

Of course, that wasn’t what had happened, and in the end nobody had died.

“None of this explains how you ‘ate’ the bomb.” Clint Barton pointed out, and it was a good observation.

“That’s because we don’t have an explanation. She went through the standard medical tests in her training, and all her bloodwork and scans indicated she was fully human. She walked into that building as a human being, and walked back out after absorbing a bomb, as who the hell knows what.”

“So you’ve never done anything like this before?” Dr Banner asked you, speaking directly to you for the first time.

“Not even remotely. I mean my eyes water when I eat chilli.” You shrugged.

“Fascinating.” Banner muttered. “Inhuman?” He asked, turning to Stark.

“Unlikely, she would have probably noticed going through Terragenesis.” Stark responded. “Mutant?” He shot back.

“No, the mutant gene would have shown up in testing.” Dr Banner sighed, looking you over with a scientifically calculating eye. “Can you explain what happened in more detail?”

“Sure, bomb went boom, I went AHHHHHH, and then it was all bright and hot and then the boom went away.” You told them.

“So how do we know that it was you? What if something else contained the blast?” Someone asked, and you looked around before you finally realised it was Sam Wilson who had spoken.

“No, it was… it definitely me.” You sighed.

“How do you know?” Bucky Barnes interjected, backing up the Falcons line of questioning.

That was the million dollar question. How could you be sure that you had anything to do with the bomb, that you had been imbued with fire power?

“During the post-mission de-brief, there was an incident.” You alluded, side-eying Fury and taking a not-so-subtle step away from him.

“Please tell me you tried to set him on fire?” Barton asked giddily, looking between you and your former boss.

When Fury levelled you with a glare and you developed a sudden vested in the ceiling, the Archer sniggered joyfully. You chanced a look around the room and saw that Barton wasn’t the only one exhibiting mirth at the idea of Fury being set ablaze by your.. well, your fury.

“He was yelling at me!” You defended, taking yet another step back when his glare intensified.

“You’re lucky you had no aim and only managed to set fire to the table.” He snapped.

“I think you were the lucky one.” Stark sniggered at Fury.

“Do you want her or not?” Fury sighed.

“Do I get a say in this?” You objected.

“No.” Fury, Stark, Romanoff, and Loki said in unison.

“I can run some tests to figure out what happened to you, if it’s reversible.” Banner offered comfortingly. “With your permission of course.”

“I’m gonna go stand over there with him.” You huffed, making a beeline for the doctor and awkwardly hiding behind him.

“Yeah, we’ll take her, should be an interesting riddle to solve.” Stark shrugged.

Captain Rogers and his buddies glanced at you before appearing to have a silent conversation.

“She can stay here while Stark and Banner figure out what happened, and we can go from there.” The Captain finally decided.

“We’ll take good care of her.” Loki added with a charming smile.

His eyes said something completely different, and you had a sick feeling that you were going to be made to pay for your short jokes.

“Glad I meet your approval; I was worried I was going to fall short.” You sarked, immediately resisting the urge to punch yourself in the face.

“Approval has nothing to do with it. Of all The Avengers, who do you think will be responsible for testing your abilities? You would do well to remember that I am more than mischief and lies, I am the god of chaos and fire.” He warned you cockily, visibly delighting in the way your grin faltered.

You shot a pleading look around the room, but nobody was refuting Loki’s claim. In fact, they were nodding thoughtfully, or in Stark’s case; shrugging apologetically at you. You turned back to Loki, ignoring the deep sense of foreboding in your stomach.

“Well Fe-Fi-Fo-Fuck.”

I have been trying to get back into writing for so long, and this is my last attempt. If this doesn’t work then I am out of ideas.

I know this is a boring start but I have been re-working and rewriting it for days and I can’t improve it. If you enjoyed any part of this, please do tell me! If you didn’t, then tell me that as well. Just give me any feedback at all, I’d appreciate it so so so so so much.

For those of you unaware (especially on AO3), I haven’t been writing for a while because my estranged mother passed away and it brought up issues that needed to be dealt with, but all that is over with now. Thank you to everyone who sent supportive messages and was patient with me ❤

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#Loki #Loki x Reader #The Avengers #Avengers x Reader #Deadpool

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uovoc · 4 years ago

Text

Murderbot privacy

“SecUnit is a very private person, it doesn’t like to talk about its feelings” made me do a double take because I was like, SecUnit, who’s listening to you right now? Since when has it cared about privacy? Because while MB is a secretive fucker, it sure doesn’t extend that courtesy to others. And what I could figure out so far to explain this apparent hypocrisy is some more-or-less coherent stuff.

Summary:

MB conflates personal, private, and secret because these categories could not exist separately under the regime of surveillance and objectification inflicted upon it in the CR. This meant that the development of MB’s sense of personal identity was limited to its internal self. As a result, MB has a good instinctive grasp of the right to privacy regarding one’s emotions and internal state. However, its lack of bodily autonomy and background as a cog in the CR surveillance state have led it to regard physical privacy as a personal privilege rather than a right.

2200 words below the cut. I think about Murderbot a normal amount

Terminology

For clarity, the terms personal, private, secret, and privacy will be defined basically by their Merriam-Webster definitions. Personal will be used to mean relating to an individual’s character, conduct, motives, or private affairs. Secret is defined as kept from knowledge or view; hidden. Private will be used to mean 1) intended for or restricted to the use of particular person, group, or class. Privacy will be defined as the quality or state of being apart from company or observation; freedom from unauthorized intrusion. These are not comprehensive definitions, but for clarity’s sake they’re the ones I will use here.

The connotations that they carry in this analysis are:

Things that are secret are actively concealed. If something is secret, people are not aware of its existence. Secrets carry the implication of potential harm if divulged.

Privacy and things that are private are generally kept as such by social norms rather than active enforcement. The existence of things that are private may be known, but the details are limited to a restricted (trusted) audience. For instance, to quote Beatrice-Otter, “the contents of my underwear drawer are private, but not secret.” If you’re at someone’s house, you could technically go look in someone’s underwear drawer – it’s not like they can stop you – but out of the mutually agreed-upon respect for privacy and definition of what qualifies as private, you don’t. Things kept private tend to be done so for personal-emotional reasons rather than practical reasons.

These are limited definitions and not mutually exclusive. For instance, privacy can be enforced by gates and barriers like secrets are. These definitions aren’t meant to be comprehensive, but just to establish the meanings and connotations that I’m working with.

Privacy in the CR versus Preservation

Murderbot’s approach to privacy reflects the attitudes of the Corporation Rim. Preservation regards privacy more like a personal right and establishes it through primarily through societal norms, while the Corporation Rim treats privacy more like a personal privilege which individuals are responsible for securing and maintaining. In Preservation, freedom from observation is the default, and surveillance is the exception. To MBs annoyance, unless a space is singled out for security reasons (cargo spaces and high-traffic zones on the station), it’s generally left unsurveilled (residential areas, pedestrian corridors, most of the planet that we see in NE). Preservation also has cultural expectations of certain types of spaces being private. MB doesn’t share these expectations, as it notes in NE when it admits that its eavesdropping habit is “a little incriminating with the whole listening to private conversations in secured spaces and personal dwellings thing.” The specificity of “secured spaces and personal dwellings” makes this sound like something someone else said to MB that it’s now repeating, especially since it doesn’t agree that what others consider private conversations or private spaces are inherently off-limits to observation.

Unlike Preservation, MB sees privacy as a privilege rather than an inherent right, because it’s more used to the attitude of the CR surveillance state. In the labor installations that MB was deployed on, everything people did was observed by SecSystem at all times. If you wanted privacy, you had to pay for it, as MB notes in ES when it’s complaining about the lack of cameras in the fancy hotel that it books when it arrives. Even then, you might not get what you pay for, and MB take steps to secure PresAux’s own camera network that they later set up. In the CR, privacy is closer in meeting to secrecy, something that must be actively enforced and secured against intrusion. Corporate entities in the CR are motivated to erode personal privacy for profit in the form of datamining and workforce control. Privacy is thus a personal responsibility, since the surrounding environment is one that seeks to undermine it. This is the attitude towards privacy that MB is working with, and part of why it feels entitled to constant surveillance of its humans. In contrast, privacy in Preservation is a right maintained by the collective expectations and policies of the larger community. Station Security doesn’t exactly approve of MB setting up its own surveillance network, but nor does it do regular drone removal sweeps. MB expects privacy to be actively secured, and sees Preservation’s easily breached systems as the equivalent of leaving your valuables out on the lawn. If you don’t want to be surveilled, don’t go around being surveillable.

Surveillance exemptions

Instances where MB appears to respect the notion of privacy are sex/bodily functions, proprietary data, and feelings talks. However, out of these 3 categories, feelings are the topic where MB’s motivations align most closely with the human understanding of privacy. MB’s aversion to sex is more of an ick factor thing, since it repeatedly states that it finds human bodily functions to be disgusting. (I think touch aversion is also part of the sex-repulsed thing, but touch aversion aligns more with ick factor and also with lack of bodily autonomy, discussed below.)

Proprietary data is another topic on which MB appears to be on the same page as humans regarding “private” as being restricted to a particular group: it doesn’t tell the Mensah parents about Amena’s creepy date, and it removes the audio when it shows Indah the video of Mensah complaining about another councilmember. In both of these cases, there’s the potential for harm if the information is divulged: Amena would get scolded and possibly grounded by her parents, and Mensah’s relationships with the Council and Senior Indah would be damaged by her lack of professionalism. In a business context, proprietary data is information kept within a company because it would give your competitors an advantage, or because your competitors could use it to put you at a disadvantage – pretty much the same results, in the game of capitalism. Although both of these examples deal with personal-emotional information, the concept of proprietary data is closer to secrecy in its potential for harm and complete concealment of the information’s existence.

The third type of situation where MB appears to be on the same page as humans regarding privacy is people talking about their feelings. After Arada gets back from the Barish-Estranza negotiations, MB pointedly does not watch her and Overse make up because of the high likelihood that “they were having sex and/or a relationship discussion (either of which I would prefer to stab myself in the face than see).” Sex falls under the ick factor, but there’s a number of reasons the fandom collective braincell has pointed out for MB not wanting to watch people talk about their feelings:

MB exercising the privilege of not having to care about human feelings, as a formerly enslaved person subjected to human whims.

Secondhand embarrassment because MB would never talk about its feelings.

Related to the above, MB reflexively recoiling out of empathy because if it was in their position, it wouldn’t want someone listening in on its feelings.

Actually, now that I think of it, MB doesn’t go into great detail on why it doesn’t like watching humans talk about their feelings, unlike how it explicitly expresses its disgust for anything involving human fluids. Which is why I’ve got the suspicion that when it comes to feelings, MB does have a strong instinctive understanding of what it means for something to be private and, as a result, gets uncomfortable observing a moment that is not meant for others to see. MB has an easier time understanding how privacy applies to feelings rather than acts because unlike its body, its feelings are strongly tied to its concept of what is personal.

MB’s internal and external self

To paraphrase this one MDZS meta, MB’s body is not its own. MB’s sense of what is personal to it, or its sense of unique identity, applies more its internal self than its external self because of its former nonperson status in the CR. This informs what MB considers to be inherently private. While in the CR, its appearance and configuration were decided by the company. To be fair, humans don’t get to choose our original bodies either, but our bodies and the modifications we make to them tell a story of our personal background. The history inscribed in MB’s body, down to the logos etched on its structure, is that of a mass-produced piece of corporate equipment. MB does not have a particular attachment to its external appearance (“standard human”) because its appearance reflects the company’s choices rather than its own. (This changes after it gains the freedom to choose its own clothes and gets tabletop surgery from ART, discussed at the end.) Although MB’s configuration is what makes it a SecUnit, and being a SecUnit is an essential part of its identity, it’s not an identity that’s unique to MB.

For most of its life, MB’s actions have also been extensions of the company. Its actions have either been dictated by its clients and governor module, or it has had to pretend to be controlled by those things, which means making decisions which could conceivably have been issued with the governor module’s approval. MB is also used to selling its body, since it’s expected to literally sacrifice pieces of itself to keep its clients safe (an expectation it continues to hold). MB has been ship-of-Theseus’d to hell and back. The lack of both bodily autonomy and bodily safety due to its nonperson status in the CR means that MB considered its body to be neither private (restricted to the use of only one person) nor entirely personal (pertaining to its unique character).

As a consequence, MB doesn’t consider its external self to have the right to privacy. Although it doesn’t like being looked at, it’s reaction is to hide rather than ask people to stop. (This is also because MB isn’t used to exercising its personal preferences regarding other people’s actions, but that’s a different angle.) It doesn’t like it when Mensah walks into the security ready room, or when its humans and ART’s crew are watching it come out of involuntary shutdown on the deck, but it doesn’t tell them to stop. In general, MB doesn’t like being looked at because if it’s falling apart, it’s in a vulnerable state, and if it’s not falling apart, then being paid attention to used to carry the threat of abuse/incoming orders/being clocked as a rogue. These reasons are more about safety than privacy.

However, MB specifically doesn’t like people looking at its face are because its face shows its emotions, and its emotions are a reflection of its internal state and, by extension, its internal self. MB considers its thoughts and emotions to have the right to privacy because they are the aspects of itself that it has been able to control, and thus has been able to make personal. When Gurathin reveals its name, it grates out, “That was private.” On one level, Murderbot’s name is an honest expression of what it thinks it is and all the associated self-loathing and guilt. MB does NOT want humans to know its name because then they know how it feels about a topic truly important to it. On another level, its name reveals its self-deprecating humor, something a ruthless killing machine is not supposed to have.

Everything that MB considers personal, it has also needed to keep secret, because in the CR, it’s not supposed to be a person the first place. Conversely, the only reason it’s been able to have personal opinions and emotions is because it has been able to keep these things secret. Anything MB would have wanted to be private – restricted to a trusted audience – would have also needed to be secret because of the pervasive surveillance present in the CR, the nonperson status of constructs, and the fact that it had no trusted audience with which it could share private information.

Conclusions

MB conflates the categories of personal, private, and secret because these concepts could not exist separately under the regime of surveillance and objectification inflicted upon it in the CR. Anything in one category had to be able to fit into the others, which limited the development of MB’s sense of personal identity to its internal self. Although MB has good instinctive grasp of the right to privacy regarding one’s internal state, MB’s lack of bodily autonomy and its background as a cog in the CR surveillance state have led it to regard physical privacy as a personal privilege rather than a right.

Now that MB’s in a safer place (kidnappings by giant asshole research transports aside), it’s beginning to separate out those concepts a bit and allow things to be personal and private but not secret (its desire to be with ART, its affection towards Mensah). It’s also starting to allow things that are neither secret nor private to be personal (expressing preferences in its hairstyle, clothing, and aversion to physical touch), which can also be considered MB reclaiming its external self/body.

#murderbot

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help-i-need-a-cool-username · 4 years ago

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Been thinking about what Mordred's life in Camelot would've been like if Merlin didn't hate him and then thought about how if Morgana was around she would probably always give him her favor at every tournament (until he married) and the other knights would tease him for that so have a broad outline for a Beloved Characters Dont Turn Evil AU

Morgana discovers her magic and Merlin swears to her that he'll protect her. He comforts her when she's scared and Merlin begs Gaius to share his knowledge and suspicions about Morgana to Morgana herself. One night Morgana bursts into their quarters in hysterics, waking them up, screaming and sobbing, and it feels like Merlin's hug is the only thing holding her together but its not enough. Glass starts shattering, candles flare, chandeliers fall to the ground. Gaius decides at this point not telling her will do considerable more harm than not, to both herself and others. They stay up through the night. Gaius speaking and Morgana asking questions, Merlin with a supportive hand on Morgana's shoulder. At one point Morgana tearfully asks the question Merlin asked Gaius long ago, "am i a monster?". They all fall asleep at the table, and that morning when Gwen arrives to wake Morgana only to find her absent with her blankets thrown over the bed and several things knocked over she runs and alerts the guards. The guards initiate lockdown and the commotion reaches Uther and wakes Arthur (Merlin is once again late), and they proceed to fear she was kidnapped right under their noses without anyone knowing. Arthur runs down to get Merlin so he can prepare him for the day only to open the door to find the three of them asleep on the table.

Later Merlin organizes for Morgana to learn more than Gaius can tell her from the Druids, but she intends to stay the night at least, if not then significantly longer (anywhere from a week to several months), and they have no good excuse for her to use that would allow her to leave without Gwen and guards. They come up with some very convoluted plan, which does not end up in the raid that occurred in canon, and when Gwen catches her sneaking back she lies and says she wanted to check up on Mordred (who she did run into), to see if he was with the Druid encampment that was rumored to be nearby (which he was). She didn't learn nearly as much as she hoped in those few hours, but they at least pointed her in a direction.

Morgause comes to town, and leaves Morgana her bracelet. After discovering it stops her visions Morgana takes it to Gaius, who reveals it was enchanted and looks similar to the one Lady Vivienne used to wear. Morgana states Morgause got it from her mother, but that Lady Vivienne was Morgana's mother and wonders how the bracelet ever got to Morgause. Gaius says there was a rumor that Lady Vivienne had a baby that displayed a affinity for magic, but Gorlois told Uther their baby had died before they even named her. Gaius reveals that the baby was smuggled out of Camelot and given to the High Priestesses, and Morgause might very well be that baby. Morgana begins to long for a connection with Morgause, to meet the sister she never knew of and recover something of her dead parents. When she begins secretly meeting Morgause, she tells Merlin and then asks him to come with her when she begins receiving lessons from her. Morgause tries to convince them that killing Uther is the right thing to do, but Merlin keeps reassuring Morgana that all they need to do is convince Arthur to change the law for when he is king, and he's not ready to do that now so theres no use in killing Uther before he's ready, and that she does love Uther and Uther does love her and would try to "fix" her well before he ordered her death. Morgause still wants him dead, to rush the prophecy of magic's return. Them sneaking out every few nights cements the idea that Morgana and Merlin are secretly dating in castle gossip.

Im not sure what happens with Morgause, but i think she would still take Camelot at some point and she would spare Morgana and by extension Merlin. Morgana and Merlin make sure to get Arthur out (and Merlin probably goes with him) because they dont trust Morgause to not kill him. Morgause reveals her heritage (and makes Morgana a Princess and her Heir) despite claiming the throne for people of magic and not the House of Gorlois, and the knowledge that Vivienne and one of her daughters were sorceresses leads Uther to believe he can not save Morgana from magic that is likely in her blood and THAT is what breaks his mental state. Morgana's real heritage is revealed soon after, with Uther informing Gaius that Morgana being a Princess is actually within her birth rights. Morgause continues Morgana's training because at some point Morgana has to become a High Priestess because canon. That or Morgause switches sides (this is a Beloved Characters Dont Go Evil AU might as well make it No Beloved Characters Are Evil AU) and she trains Morgana later after Arthur is a established King.

Morgause is overthrown and the Round Table formed. Arthur as well as several people in the castle know of or suspect Morgana of being a sorceress but he refuses to banish her, first believing it to have been out of her control (forced by Morgause) and later learning that her nightmares had been magic all along (how could he punish her for something he knows she had tried to get rid of for over a decade?). Perhaps he lets her keep the title of Princess, having always seen her as a sister (and someone who is compassionate for the people in a way royalty should be) and armed with the new knowledge of her being his actual sister. Everyone expects Regent Arthur to crack down on magic, its what Uther would have done and what the people want, so he does. Morgana becomes a advocate for magic, as she had been for Arthur in private as a Prince, and it scares people in the castle. They believe her to be working with Morgause, despite her arguments being for individuals' wellbeing and how punishments fuels hatred for Camelot. Several attempts are made on her life, many stopped by Merlin and Gwen and sometimes Lancelot. Arthur often "asks" Merlin for his opinion on magic and with Morgana's voice being public he feels okay with being straight with Arthur on what he thinks. Uther dies same as he did in canon: protecting Arthur from a assassination.

Mordred becomes a Knight because canon. Morgana is ecstatic to see him again and acts like a mother who hasn't seen her child in ages when she first sees him. Merlin has learned you often make the enemies that are destined to kill you (ex. trying to stop Morgana's visions from coming true) so he ignores Kilgharrah and doesn't hate Mordred (he is always wary though). Mordred alternates between childlike eagerness around the knights and following Merlin around while hero worshiping him (no one can figure out why. Their best guess is that Morgana is a mutual friend). In the beginning he kept messing up his name (calling him "Merlin" is just weird) and they often talk in their heads and therefore just stare at each other which has led to two conflicting rumors: theyre in love or they hate each other. Morgana often invites him to dinner, and when they dine with Arthur they easily slip into mind-talking (because chewing) and Arthur is convinced that they're making fun of him every time they do it. He protects Arthur when Merlin can't, often runs off to do side quests Merlin needs to do but cant get away to do, and often tags along with Merlin on his quests. Being able to share the knowledge of his destiny since Lancelot died (if he dies in this AU) relaxes Merlin's caution and allows him to be emotionally closer to him. Mordred enjoys being around Merlin and Morgana not just because he's Emrys and she's Morgana, but because they are the closest thing to home he has: they know what he is, they understand (bits) of his culture and make it possible for Mordred to share it with them, their individual magic sings strong enough to remind him of when he lived surrounded by it. He quickly grows to love them so very much and no one understands WHY. The knights tease him about it, and Morgana forcing Arthur to take Mordred on certain missions he isnt qualified for "so he can learn" does not help. Gwaine and Percival were planning to convince him that he couldnt compete in a tournament without a lady's favor because he's the rookie and his panicked look greatly amuses them only to find Morgana giving him her's before kissing his cheek. They were relentless after that, alternating between "lady's favors dont count if they're from your mom," "Mordred has a girlfriend," and whatever the medieval version of affectionately calling him "Bambi" is. Morgana sits in the stand's throne (since Arthur is competing) or besides it if Gwen is queen, and she flashes a smile at him when he comes out (Gwen too. He's a sweet kid with a baby face, of course he's one of her favorites. He also reminds her of Merlin when she first met him: kind, awkward, cute). This settles Mordred's nerves but has the unfortunate side effect of increased teasing. Merlin doesn't let it go to far, he never does, and gives them a distraction before running back to Arthur.

And then magic is brought back to the land and Morgana continues the work of the High Priestesses and helps the rebuilding efforts and they're still adventures and problems, but everyone Lives Happily Ever After

#hinacu merlin #bbc merlin #morgana #mordred #merlin #morgause #au #morgana is good au #mordred is good au #to clarify merlin and morgana never date #its just castle gossip and arthurs assumptions #mordred has familial love for morgana and no you dont need a family dynamic for that #people make mom jokes but its not like that #morgana cares a lot about people and wants to protect them but mordred is ''new'' and ten years younger than her #so mom jokes are too easy #morgana tells merlin of her visions and he sets out to stop them like when kilgharrah tells him stuff #and then she gets her bracelet and that stops but its not like merlin can ask her to take it off #idk when morgana finds out about his magic #maybe he tells her about the whole dragonlord thing but i dont trust her not to NOT say something about it when defending him #he def would have kept it a secret around morgause and in canon she didnt seem to know his power but nimueh did so who knows #i like to think she has no idea that he has powerful magic that hes actually super weak with it since he almost never does magic #big fan of mordreds silent hero worship

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fatalism-and-villainy · 4 years ago

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Reparative Reading

I would love, and indeed have been meaning for a long time, to talk about a piece of academic writing from one of my favourite theorists that I think has an ongoing relevance. This is Eve Kosofsky Sedgwick’s “Paranoid Reading and Reparative Reading,” first published in the mid-to-late 1990’s and compiled in her 2003 monograph, Touching Feeling. There’s a some free PDFs of it floating around (such as here) for those who want to read it in full – and I would recommend doing so, despite its density in places, because Sedgwick has a marvelous critical voice.

Sedgwick’s topic of contention in this essay is the overwhelming tendency in queer criticism to employ what she thinks of as a paranoid methodology – that is, criticism based around the revelation of oppressive attitudes, and that sees that revelation not only as always and inherently a radical project, but the only possible anti-oppressive project. This methodology is closely related to what Paul Ricoeur termed the “hermeneutics of suspicion” and identified as central to the works of Marx, Nietzsche, and Freud, which were all progenitors of queer criticism. Sedgwick objects to the fact that the hermeneutics of suspicion had, at her time of writing, become “synonymous with criticism itself,” rather than merely one possible critical approach. She questions the universal utility of the dramatic unveiling of the presence of oppressive forces, pointing to the function of visibility itself in perpetuating systemic violence, and identifying the work of anti-oppression as one based in a competition for a certain type of visibility. She also rejects the knowledge of the presence of oppression alone as conferring a particular critical imperative, instead posing the question, “what does knowledge do?”

As an example, Sedgwick critiques Judith Butler’s commentary on drag in Gender Trouble, one of the works that she uses as an example of a reading based in a paranoid approach. She identifies Butler’s argument that drag foregrounds the constructed aspect of gender as a paranoid approach, due to its focus on revelation of structures of power and oppression, and she finds Butler’s argument lacking in its neglect in acknowledging the role that joy and community formation play in the phenomenon of drag. Near the end of the essay, she also does an example of a reparative reading of the ending of Proust’s In Search of Lost Time, claiming that the narrator’s remove from the traditional familial structure and its temporality is precisely what confers his particular moment joy and insight upon discovering that his friends have aged. Broadly, Sedgwick rejects the implication that readings based in joy, hope, or optimism are naïve, uncritical, or functionally a denial of the reality of oppression.

Now, it’s important to note that the message of this essay is not that paranoid readings are bad, and reparative readings are good. Sedgwick is drawing on a body of affect theories (most prominently Melanie Klein’s) that posit the reparative impulse as dependent on and resulting from the paranoid impulse – reparation by definition is something that can only occur after some kind of shattering, and Kleinian trauma theories generally posit that process as something that produces a new object or perspective than pre-trauma. (Something I love about Sedgwick is that she often sets up these binaries that seem at odds with each other, but end up being mutually dependent.) Furthermore, the critical tradition in queer studies that Sedgwick is critiquing in this essay is one that was itself, in many ways, a manifestation of communal trauma, particularly with the impact of the AIDS crisis. Sedgwick herself acknowledged this last point in a later essay, “Melanie Klein and the Difference Affect Makes,” claiming that she didn’t feel she did a good enough job of identifying the AIDS crisis as a driving force behind this trend. So Sedgwick is not discounting the utility of paranoid readings, but rather rejecting the notion that they ought to encompass all of criticism. (In fact, a running theme in Touching Feeling is her representation of various perspectives and methods as sitting beside one another, rather than hierarchically.) And reparative reading, as Sedgwick portrays it, is not the denial of trauma or violence, but a possibility for moving forward in its wake.

Why am I taking the time to outline all of this? Because, while the original essay was written almost 25 years ago, with the academic community in mind, it reflects a similar pattern that I see now in online fandom.

Queer fandom (as that’s what I feel the most qualified to talk about) has a considerable paranoia problem. Queer fandom is brimming with traumatized people who carry varying degrees of personal baggage and are afflicted by the general neuroses that come from existing in a heterosexist, cissexist society. And many people in fandom have been repeatedly burned by the treatment of queer people in media – Bury Your Gays, queerbaiting, queercoded villains, etc. And in such a media landscape, and within such a communal sphere, much of fandom has developed the kind of “anticipatory and reactive” method of media criticism that Sedgwick identifies in this essay.

Fandom gets very excited for new media, certainly, and is prone to adulation of media that seems to fit its ideological beliefs. But it is also very quick to hone in on any potential representative flaw, and use that as a vehicle for condemnation. (This cycling between idealization and extreme, bitter jadedness has been widely commented on). Not only is there a widespread moralistic approach in fan criticism that is very invested in deeming whether or not a piece of media is harmful or not, “problematic” or not, within a simplistic binary framing, but that conclusion is so frequently the end of the conversation. “This is problematic,” “this is bad representation,” “this falls into this tired and harmful trope,” etc, is treated as the endpoint of criticism, rather than a starting point. This is the spectacle of exposure that Sedgwick critiques as central to the paranoid approach – simply identifying the presence of oppressive attitudes in a text is not only treated as an analytic in and of itself, but as the only valid analytic. So often I have seen people jump to take the most pessimistic possible approach to a piece of media, and then proceed to treat any disagreement with that reading as in and of itself a denial of structural homophobia, as naïve, and as not being a critical enough reader/viewer. “Being critical” itself has been taken on as a shorthand for this particular process, which many others have commented on as well.

Now, again, I want to stress that taking issue with this totalizing impulse is not discounting the legitimate uses of identification and exposure, or even of reactivity and condemnation. There are particular contexts in which these responses have their uses – in Sedgwick’s words, “paranoia knows some things well and others poorly.” But that approach has a finite scope. And rejecting the universal application of this particular analytic does not itself constitute a denial of the existence of oppression, or its manifestation in media and narratives. Nor is it about letting particular works “off the hook” for whatever aspects they may have that are worthy of critique. Rather, it’s a call to acknowledge that other critical approaches exist, and that the employment of a more optimistic approach is not necessarily a result of ignorance or apathy about the existence of oppression. It is one that invites us not to lay aside paranoia as an approach, but recognize that it has limited applicability, and question when and how our motives might be better served by another approach.

I think that “is this homophobic, yes or no?” or “is this good representation, yes or no?” are reductive critical approaches in and of themselves. But I think there’s also room for acknowledgment that not everything needs to be read through a revelatory lens regarding societal oppression at all. Rather than “what societal attitudes does this reflect back?” being the approach, I think there could be a good bit more “What does this do for us? What avenues of possibility does this have?” I think there’s already been leanings in this direction with, for example, the reclaiming of queercoded villains, with dialogues that treat those characters not as reflections of societal anxiety and prejudice, but rather as representative of joy and freedom and possibility in their rejection of norms and constraints. I’d like to see that approach applied more broadly and more often.

Let’s try to read more reparatively.

#alpha speaks #alpha's literary opinions #eve sedgwick #literary criticism #queer studies #help me sedgwick #also apparently 'reparatively' isn't actually a word but sedgwick invented words in a similar way all the time so #lord i hope this is all coherent...#these concepts are always more complicated and harder to convey than they seem #my meta #big sigh.#queue #for pillowfort #(when it comes back online)

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bookaddict19 · 5 years ago

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Sleeping with the Enemy (Part 1) | Fred Weasley x Reader

Rating: Mature...eventually. I don’t know.

This is my first fanfiction so bear with me. This is an AU that occurs after the Goblet of Fire, during the events of the Order to the Phoenix. No hate, please. But if you like it, let me know and I will continue adding to it.

Despite being filled with the sounds of chattering students and the clinking of dinnerware, Y/N found the so-called Great Feast to be a very dull affair. She nursed her pumpkin juice, thinking longingly of the bottle of firewhiskey upstairs in her dorm room, until she felt the reassuring squeeze of a familiar hand. Y/N reluctantly pulled herself out of her sulky state to come face-to-face with a pair of concerned, gray eyes.

Are you okay? they seemed to ask.

Y/N forced a smile. Draco looked at her pointedly, then shrugged, returning back to his conversation with Crabbe and Goyle.

“If what Potter says is true,” Goyle began in rather slow whisper, bits of treacle tart plastered to the side of his mouth. “And the Dark Lord has actually returned, what does that mean for us?”

Draco sighed. Clearly, he was not pleased to be going through this conversation again for what seemed to be the thousandth time. Y/N was sick of this discussion as well but for an entirely different reason. If she wanted to spend her days discussing corrupt governments and rising dictators, which seemed to be the only topics of conversation in this remote castle, then she would have stayed in America. Although, she reminded herself sullenly, returning home to the stony shores of Britain had not entirely been her own idea.

While Draco recited the rehearsed response given to him by his father again to the questioning idiots, Y/N busied herself by partaking in the ancient pastime of people-watching. As her eyes searched the room for signs of intelligent life, her attention was caught by a pair of bobbing red heads over by the Gryffindor table. It seemed that the Weasleys twins were up to their usual nonsense.

Y/N watched with a smirk on her face as Fred Weasley transfigured his golden goblet into a large, amber-colored spider and placed it on the seat next to his younger brother. The younger, Ron, had briefly given his fork a break and had come up for air from his dinner, resting his tired arm on the table. The spider, whether by nature or the twins’ design, took this as an invitation to begin to crawl from Ron’s rested arm to his freckled neck.

The next few minutes were filled with girlish squeals and roaring laughter from the other side of the hall. Ron had fell back out of his seat in an attempt to rid himself of the arachnid, thrashing and screeching as he did so. His friends, Granger and Potter, were attempting to calm him long enough to properly dispose of the creature. From Y/N’s position at the Slytherin table, she could see the top of Potter’s dark hair as he struggled to hold down Ron’s flailing limbs. Granger, on the other hand, was standing above them both, her wand at the ready.

Meanwhile, the entire Great Hall had ceased their conversations to gawk at the most recent outburst from the Gryffindor table. Y/N noticed that Draco’s debate with Crabbe and Goyle had also come to an abrupt close. Y/N tore her gaze away from the Weasleys’ shenanigans long enough to catch a glimpse of Draco. His dark eyes hovered towards spot where Potter’s hair was visible. He didn’t say a word. He didn’t have too. As students stretched in their seats in order to get a better look at the spectacle, Y/N laced her fingers back through Draco’s empty hand in a silent gesture. He took a deep breath then adverted his eyes from the unfolding scene.

Dissimilarly, Fred and George were basking in the success of their wonderful prank, accepting high-fives from surrounding students at the Gryffindor and Hufflepuff tables. The celebration only ceased when Professor McGonagall, who had descended from the professors’ table with a basilisk-like glare, had seized George by a freckled-ear and began pulling him out of the hall. Fred, who would be damned if he let his twin suffer such a fate alone, took one last bow and followed his brother out of the Great Hall. However, he wasn’t the last to leave. Following the twins exit, a tiny witch in a pink dress slowly rose from the staff table and made her way to the exit. That’s not good, Y/N thought.

“Filthy blood traitors,” Millicent Bulstrode mumbled beside Y/N as the twins left the hall. Y/N’s eyes quickly snapped to Millicent’s toad-like face. “Careful, Bulstrode,” Y/N said slowly. “Their blood is purer than yours.”

Millicent’s face turned an ugly shade of red as the surrounding Slytherins crackled under their breath. Tears filled Millicent’s eyes and Y/N began to feel something resembling pity for the toad-faced half-blood next to her. It wasn’t that Y/N particularly cared about blood status. Despite growing up with the fanatical ramblings of Lucius Malfoy for the better part of her life, she didn’t feel as strongly about the widely debated topic as her fellow housemates. Her indifference could’ve been attributed to her time in America; a simpler country where blood status was of very little importance because there were no purebloods to be found. Or perhaps, she was simply more culturally evolved than her current company. However, she admitted, the later was most unlikely.

Following Fred and George’s interruption, the noise level in the hall had quickly returned to normal. This meant the return of pestering questions about the future of Slytherin house in the wake of the Dark Lord’s return from Crabbe and Goyle. Goyle, who was continuing to talk despite the large piece of pumpkin pie hanging from his mouth, whispered something to Draco that Y/N couldn’t hear. She looked at Draco; he had gone quite pale.

“Can you both please attempt amuse yourselves with any other topic of conversation,” Draco exclaimed rather harshly. “For instance, the growing obesity rate or how difficult it is to shovel food from the plate and into your mouth without most of it ending up on your face.” He looked sharply at Goyle.

He had begun to shake. His eyes flashing dangerously under his pale blond hair. Crabbe and Goyle immediately quieted and recoiled in fear as if Draco were about to stand up in the middle of the Great Hall and start throwing out jinxes. Normally, Y/N would have welcomed anything to bring a bit of excitement to her current somber state. While the Weasleys’ act was quite amusing, she hadn’t had a good fight since she had returned to the UK and Draco was never one to disappoint her. There was nothing like the thrill of a good duel. No civilized bows and niceties that were so very common to European wizards, but a good old-fashion wizards’ duel. All wands and curses and the heat of palpable magic in the air.

However, despite her thrill-mongering, she saw the truth beneath Draco’s thundering. The fear in his dark gray eyes as they shifted restlessly across the hall like those of a frightened animal. The way his fingers, which had still been laced through Y/N’s, had suddenly found themselves pulling at his left sleeve, making sure that his forearm was completely covered.

Y/N put her hand on his shoulder and the shaking ceased. She moved her fingers to his back and began to draw small circles on the fabric of his jumper. As his breathing began to return to normal, Draco pushed his relatively cleaned plate aside, kissed her forehead and started a conversation with Warrington about Slytherin’s chances at beating Hufflepuff in the upcoming quidditch match.

It had been like this for as long as they both could remember and nothing, not even five long years apart, could change it. Not that their relationship was anything remotely romantic; although, by the jealous glares Pansy Parkinson was throwing Y/N at the moment, you could not tell that. Pansy was not alone in her assumptions. Most of the school believed that Y/N and Draco were secretly dating or, at the very least, sleeping together. This amused Draco, who would make it a point to grab Y/N’s hand in the halls on the way to classes in order to get giggles from nearby girls or high-fives from passing boys. Y/N learned to just smile and take the attention in strides.

It was not that she didn’t love Draco. She did. Sometimes he was the only thing in the world that made her feel like life was actually worth living. It was all-consuming love. An unconditional love that would have them both willing to help the other bury a body if it ever became necessary. But not a romantic love. It helped immensely that this feeling was most-assuredly mutual. This was ever-present in his incessant flirting with anything that qualified as remotely human. Draco was not shy in the slightest, and despite having a quiet infatuation with a certain dark-haired, scar-faced wizard, he spent the majority of his days chasing snobby Ravenclaw girls or freckled-faced Hufflepuff boys.

Y/N, on the other hand, had only been at Hogwarts for a little over a year, despite being almost sixteen. She had no time for such fancies. She was here for a reason. Although, thinking about that reason made her heart beat faster and her stomach turn. “I’m going to go,” Y/N mumbled to Draco, untangling their fingers. His eyes searched hers for a brief second before he nodded and turned away.

She left the hall in a bit of a rush. She made her way through the entrance doors, turning left to head downstairs towards the dungeons and the Slytherin common room. She was halfway there when she spotted the back of a familiar red head. Fred Weasley was sitting on the stairs, his crimson head resting against wall. Y/N immediately looked around for any signs of a mischievous plot afoot. In their own way, the Weasley twins were like wolves. One must always have eyes on both of them. Lose sight of one and there is a good chance that you’ll find yourself cornered, being bombarded with water balloons.

“Weasley…,” she began cautiously, her eyes darting around to make sure that the other twin wasn’t going to come out of nowhere and blast her with a Bat-Bogey Hex. “Well, if it isn’t Miss Black,” Fred replied in a strained voice. He turned and attempted what Y/N believed was supposed to be a smile. His face was strained with pain while his left arm cradled his right hand.

Y/N stopped in her tracks. It seemed that Umbridge had had the last word in the twins’ little prank in the Great Hall. Y/N took one last vigilant look behind her before taking seat on the step next to Fred. She looked at him slowly. Beads of sweat raced down is freckled face, his stormy blue eyes fixed on his feet. Y/N watched his chest rise and fall in a slow but controlled manner like he trying very hard to keep himself from crying.

Y/N didn’t know why but she could always tell the difference between Fred and George. While to most each twin was synonymous with the other, to her, the acknowledgement of the differences between the two was more than just a matter of respect; it was a matter of intelligence. Fred was obviously more outgoing than George. His eyes shined a bit brighter than his brother’s, especially when mischief was afoot. And while his Quidditch skills weren’t as outstanding as George’s, he showed more compassion both on and off the pitch; choosing to fight harder to win rather than resulting in cheap shots.

“While I understand than I am stunningly handsome, Miss Black, I am sort of concerned that my good looks have caused you to stop breathing,” Fred remarked with a forced sort of laugh. Y/N, being rudely brought back to the present, made a noise somewhere between a snort and a cough.

“Not even in your dreams, Weasley,” she mumbled.

She looked at his injured hand. The words, I will not cause disruptions, was scratched into his pale skin in ugly, bloodstained letters. The cuts were deep. Apparently Umbridge had felt that Fred needed to do multiple lines in order to understand the message. Y/N wondered if the cuts would heal before the twins were up to their usual tricks again. Probably not, she thought.

“This,” Fred started, noticing the direction of her gaze, made a motion to his cradled hand, “This is nothing. I had a filibuster firework go off in my hand once. Mum said I was lucky to still have all of my fingers.” Fred was talking mostly to himself. His head rested on the wall.

“I can help with that,” Y/N offered. Fred’s crimson head slowly rose from it’s resting place. His gaze fixed on her; suspicion filled his eyes. Y/N looked down at the serpent insignia on her robes. It was amazing how something that seemed so small and insignificant to her could cause such division in this foreign place. “Or you could just stay in pain,” Y/N said, that anger that she fought so hard to control came bubbling up to the surface. “See if I care.”

She made a move to get up, her face reddening with anger and embarrassment. She was almost down the staircase when she felt a hand on the left sleeve of her jumper. She quickly tore her arm away from him, more out of fear than anger.

“I’m sorry,” Fred said quickly. He slumped back down on the staircase. He was in really bad shape. Y/N hesitated, then slowly sat next to him. Draco had always said that she had a soft heart when it came to broken things.

“It’s no use,” Fred mumbled feverishly. “Even Madam Pomfrey said there was nothing to do for it but ice it and wait for it to heal.”

Y/N took his hand and examined it. It was warm and wet from inflammation. Fred shivered. Y/N had seen this kind of magic before. “Well…” she started slowly. “You should never ask a saint to do a sinner’s work.”

Y/N knew from examining his wound that the quills that Umbridge had been using in her detentions contained a dark and ancient form of magic. Knowing this, she thought it unlikely that any conventional spell would be able to reverse the effects of the curse. Luckily for her, and the redhead beside her, Y/N was anything but conventional.

“I can fix it,” she began slowly, moving her dark hair out of her face to look back into his eyes. “But I need you to trust me…and I need you to keep quiet about it. I don’t intend on becoming this castle’s new healer, nor do I have the bedside manner to do so.” At this, Fred nodded a bit cautiously. After he gave his consent, Y/N’s attention returned to his hand. She didn’t pull out her wand or even make a move to do so. She simply wrapped her hands around his. He squirmed. “It’s okay,” she whispered. She didn’t know who she was trying to calm.

She had done this a thousand times before. But sitting here in the middle of the castle, in a land that was all but alien to her and with boy she barely knew…it was enough to set anyone on edge. After covering his hand in hers, she began to chant. Softly, at first. So soft that Fred could hardly hear her. As her voice rose, he realized that she wasn’t speaking English but some sort of Latin spell. The torches around the pair began to dim as her voice rose higher and higher. The sounds from the feast above seem to grow silent. Magic crackled in the air like sparks in a hearth. Their joined hands began to pulse and glow with a soft, golden light. And then…it was over as quickly as it had begun. The flames in the torches surrounding the two seemed to had risen back to their full height. The noise from the Great Hall above echoed in the stairwell once more.

Y/N forced herself to look at Fred’s face. She decided to take in one feature at a time in order to postpone the look of fear that was most likely present there. His color had come back. His cheeks flushed with red. His lips, that had almost been blue before, were now very pink and sporting a ghost of a smile. Y/N met his gaze. His blue eyes were not as stormy as before and were now filled with…not fear but something else.

Fred let out a harsh breath that pulled Y/N out of reprieve. She looked down at their entangled hands and quickly pulled hers away, standing up to move onto the other side of the stairwell. Fred inspected his hand. There wasn’t a mark on it. Not even a scar.

“How…,” he began.

“It doesn’t matter,” Y/N responded quickly. “We’re not speaking of it again, remember?”

His gaze shifted from his hand to her face. It wasn’t fear she saw in his bright eyes but confusion, shock, and…gratitude.

“Y/N…,” he made a move to stand.

“Don’t mention it,” she pushed passed his outstretched hand and hurried down the staircase, refusing to look back. Y/N returned to the Slytherin common room and spent most of the rest of night sitting in an armchair, staring at the same page of her textbook for hours. Her fellow housemates had come back from the feast, and slowly emptied the common room as they headed to bed. Eventually, only Draco and Y/N remained.

Noticing this, Y/N decided that she had most undisputedly earned a drink her actions this evening. She went to her room, grabbed the bottle of firewhiskey from under her bed, and returned downstairs. Draco was waiting. His Nimbus 2001 was stretched out on the floor next to him and a cleaning kit was in his hands. The sound of a bottle opening diverted his attention from his work

“I’m starting to worry that you’re becoming an alcoholic,” he muttered darkly.

Y/N poured the amber liquid into a nearby glass. “You’re only an alcoholic if you start drinking alone,” she smirked. “And look,” she walked towards him and thrusted the glass into his hand. “You’re drinking with me.” She took a long swig from the bottle.

The next few hours were spent in quiet contemplation of the night’s events. Draco didn’t want to talk about Potter or the upcoming war or that thing that was tattooed to his arm. And Y/N decided that she wouldn’t be able to take lecture on her irresponsible use of her powers that would most assuredly occur if she told Draco about the Fred incident. Instead, they stayed silent. Y/N fell asleep a couch in the middle of the common room, wrapped snuggly in Draco’s arms as she thought about the way Fred’s hand felt in hers. She awoke to a pain in her left arm as her dark mark seared in agony.

#Harry Potter #fred weasley x reader #fred weasley x slytherin reader #slytherin #slytherin reader #draco malfoy #darry #draco x harry #draco x reader #fred weasley #harry potter fanfiction

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tsarisfanfiction · 5 years ago

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Unexpected

Fandom: Thunderbirds Rating: Gen (brief, family-friendly allusion to the birds and bees) Genre: Family Characters: Scott, John, Gordon, Alan, Virgil, EOS

Yup, another fic for @gumnut-logic‘s #irrelief! The prompt used here is ““We’re going to be uncles!” A Tracy has reproduced (can be Kayo too)” from @shirubie. Maybe not quite what the prompt implies, though.

When it came to the next generation, Scott didn’t think it would happen quite like this.

“I can’t believe it!”

Gordon’s sudden exclamation was greeted by silence from his older brothers. Scott raised an eyebrow before returning to the metaphorical mountain of paperwork on his desk. EOS had been a thoroughly internal affair, and while none of them intended on letting anyone in the GDF – including Colonel Casey, for all that she was on their side – learn the truth about what exactly had gone down during those disastrous moments on Thunderbird Five, the fact remained that several distress calls had gone unanswered for hours and the GDF wanted answers.

Finding a way to cover it all up without revealing John’s inadvertent creation of a sentient AI several years earlier, or the fact that said sentient AI now resided full time on the most technologically advanced satellite in the world, was tricky. It was not helped by the fact that she was currently only trusted entirely by John, although Scott suspected the rest of his brothers were being fast won over, and she reminded him more than a little of John when he’d been that age (assuming, of course, that EOS was approximately ten years old – John had not been forthcoming on when, exactly, he’d written the base coding).

Like creator, like… creation?

“What is it, Gordon?”

Unlike the elder brothers – Virgil was steadfastly tickling ivories without pause, and John might not be actively hovering, but Scott knew his line with them was always open (unless a certain AI – nope, not going to go there right now) – Alan had not mastered the art of working out when Gordon needed to be listened to, and when he was simply attention-seeking. Or maybe he had but had yet to tire of enabling him – or maybe, just maybe, Alan was bored of cleaning.

It was probably the latter. No-one liked cleaning, not even MAX.

“John!” Gordon called out, his tone almost accusatory, instead of directly answering his younger brother.

John, blessed with the patience of a saint but also, more importantly, the ability to tell when Gordon should be listened to, and when he should not, didn’t answer.

He did, however, pop up in miniature in the corner of Scott’s holoprojector, out of Gordon’s line of sight, and rolled his eyes. Scott appreciated the proof that the line was indeed open, and not being hijacked by EOS. He shook his head slightly in return, amused if a little exasperated at the elder blond’s outburst – whatever inane thing it was he’d thought of.

“Joo-oooohn!” Gordon repeated, in that annoying, grinding way of splitting a brother’s name into two syllables when it clearly only had one that both Scott and John hated. “Johnny!” Turquoise eyes hardened in frustration – two syllables in ‘Jo-ohn’ was one thing, but ‘Johnny’ was detested. Scott couldn’t agree, preferring ‘Scotty’ to ‘Sco-ott’ himself, or even ‘Scooter’, as his brothers occasionally bastardised his name. ‘Scotty’ was childish, but ‘Sco-ott’ was just whining.

Still, John remained silent. Patience was a virtue, and one John had far more of than Gordon. The eventual victor was already clear.

“I know you’re listening!” Gordon continued, and oh dear, there was the end of the patience. Willing or not, they were all about to be made privy to whatever revelation the aquanaut had come to. Scott didn’t have a clue what it could be, but knowing Gordon, it was probably going to be nonsense.

From the look he got from John, he wasn’t alone in that opinion.

“Jooohnny.” Now it was a whine. Dogs whined, little kids whined. Fully qualified aquanauts with military training also whined, apparently. Or maybe it was just ones named Gordon Cooper Tracy. Scott had never really interacted with WASP during his time in service. “Why didn’t you say you had a kid?”

John choked, immediately drawing the attention of the two youngest as they whirled around to see his miniature hologram perched on Scott’s – Dad’s – desk.

“Were you hiding?” Alan asked, launching himself away from the broom he was supposed to be sweeping popcorn crumbs off of the den floor with – which clattered to the floor loudly – to cling to the edge of the desk. Gordon was hot on his heels.

“A kid?” Virgil asked, the quiet melody stopping as the middle child abandoned his sonata and came to join the huddle of brothers around the desk. “Where did that come from, Gordon?”

“You mean EOS?” Alan sounded surprised, as though he’d only just drawn the conclusion. Scott wondered if Gordon had already brought him in on this crazy scheme, but even if he hadn’t, Alan had beaten him to the punch on whatever was going through Gordon’s head, anyway. Maybe blond-haired teenager brothers had a psychic link. It might explain a few things, anyway.

“EOS?” John asked, jogging Scott out of suppositions about psychic younger brothers and back to the bizarre conversation at hand. “My kid?”

“Well she is, isn’t she?” Gordon challenged, arms crossed and eyebrow raised in a manner that looked rather familiar from the mirror. “You made her. And now she’s living with you while you teach her how tell right from wrong.”

“I know you know how children happen,” John said bluntly. “Don’t be ridiculous.”

“You made her,” Gordon repeated, and beside him Alan, who had been looking thoughtful, began to nod.

“Gordon’s right,” he said, and John turned an incredulous look on him. Scott shared a look of ‘what are we supposed to do about this’ with Virgil. “You made her base coding, and now she’s growing up.”

“She is growing up?” Gordon interjected, and Scott realised John had been backed into a corner. Saying EOS wasn’t maturing would both be a lie – she was – and also a sure way to upset the AI who was no doubt eavesdropping on the conversation.

“Of course she is,” John defended her. “She’s learning.”

“Like a child,” Gordon pressed. “Ergo, your daughter.”

“Those two things aren’t mutually-”

“John?”

EOS cut off the ginger’s argument, her recently installed own hologram projecting into the midst of their discussion. Scott just started wondering when she was going to appear.

“Yes, EOS?” John asked, his head turning to look at what Scott assumed was the security camera EOS had taken for a ‘body’ up in Thunderbird Five.

“Your brothers are referring to me as your ‘daughter’, but I checked the internet for how ‘daughter’s are created, and I have no recollection of such an act occurring to create my code.”

Alan and Gordon burst out laughing, and even Scott couldn’t resist joining Virgil in a chuckle as John’s face turned redder than his hair.

“EOS, that’s- why were you looking at that?” he demanded, over Gordon’s gasps for air. Virgil helpfully patted the aquanaut’s shoulder, and got a baleful look for it.

“To understand, John,” the AI said. “You said I should research facts before reaching conclusions.”

“I did,” John sighed, rubbing his face with one hand. “I should have known that would come up sooner or later. So, what conclusion did you come to?”

“That I am your daughter.”

Scott found himself witness to the rare sight of a baffled John.

“But you just said you didn’t understand what Gordon meant,” Alan pointed out, before John could articulate whatever was going through his head.

“Research implies that while intercourse is how a daughter or son is created, it is not the only way one may be obtained,” EOS replied, sounding as smug as a computer-generated voice could – and perhaps more than Scott ever thought one would. “The act of sheltering a younger being in one’s home and assisting in their growth and understanding is also one of parenthood. Thus, it would not be incorrect to state that John is my father and I am John’s daughter.”

“I don’t think that’s quite how it works,” Virgil muttered, but he was drowned out by Gordon’s triumphant shout.

“I told you so!” he crowed. “EOS is John’s daughter!”

John was shaking his head, but Scott saw the fond smile on his face.

“Okay, fine,” the ginger said. “Yes, EOS, that makes you my daughter. But, please, just keep calling me John.”

“Spoilsport,” Gordon sulked. “Hey, EOS. If you’re John’s daughter that makes you my niece, so feel free to call me ‘Uncle’!”

“And me!” Alan chimed in. Scott shared another look with Virgil, and they silently agreed to stay out of it.

“Don’t encourage them, EOS,” John muttered, and the white ring of lights flared again.

“John does not wish me to,” she said. “So I shall not. After all, research suggests that daughters obey their fathers.”

Her hologram vanished, leaving behind a pair of gaping blonds. John turned his attention to them.

“Thank you,” he said. “Now I have some explaining to do.” His hologram disappeared as well.

Scott shook his head in despair. John was patient, but one day he’d get revenge on the teenagers. Scott was quite content to remain a fly on the wall for the eventual payback.

In the meantime, he had the GDF to throw off the scent of his newly-named niece. Not quite the way he’d imagined the family expanding.

#irrelief #irrelief2020 #thunderbirds are go #thunderbirds are go fanfiction #tsari writes fanfiction #shirubie #scott tracy #john tracy #alan tracy #gordon tracy #virgil tracy #eos #episode tag #technically #oops i'm back in scott pov again #thunderfluff

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bellcuban9 · 4 years ago

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Writing A Will During Lockdown.

Making A Will In Louisiana.

Content

Select Guardians For Your Kids And Also Animals.

The Possesions Of Your Estate Are Dispersed As Per Your Wishes.

Beware: Not All Wills Are Controlled

Our Bespoke Wills Solution.

Why Pick Glanvilles Will Composing Legal Representatives In Fareham?

Your will can be revoked at any time prior to its effectiveness, by filing a simple motion in a court of law. Once filed, if there is no response from the estate, or if no beneficiaries are named, the revocation can then go into effect. Once revocation takes place, a copy of the original document must be filed with the court that created it, and another certified copy must be sent to the other named beneficiaries. In the event of a successful revocation, your assets will be returned to the estate of your last living trust, which means that your beneficiaries will now share the property evenly between the remaining beneficiaries.

Who are your intended recipients? Appellate courts typically allow the following to be witnesses to a Will: your spouse, anyone who is your co-habitant, children, anyone considered a dependent of your spouse, a person considered your estate, your attorney, anyone acting under the powers of a judge, a public official or anyone named in the document. However, codicilators and administrators are not allowed to be witnesses to a Will. They can revoke a Will at any time but must do so in writing.

Select Guardians For Your Kids And Also Family Pets.

How may I make my intentions known to others? You may want to leave a Will with a trusted friend or associate who can act as a go between for you and those you leave your instructions with. You may also choose to let trusted members of your family know of your Last Will and Testament. Again, consult your state probate laws for specifics.

Can a Will be revoked after it is executed? A will can be revoked either before or after you die depending on the state probate laws. If you pass away intestate (without leaving a will), then upon death, the last will and testament must be filed in the probate court. If you appoint an administrator or another designate to control your estate, they can file a "revocation of testament" with the court if you die before taking care of your estate, thereby revoking your last will and testament.

The Possesions Of Your Estate Are Dispersed Based On Your Desires.

It is vitally important to choose an experienced attorney to make decisions regarding estate and personal assets. There are a wide range of different lawyers available today who are experienced in handling all kinds of estate planning matters including adoptions and retirement plans. It may be beneficial for you to consider consulting the services of an attorney before making any major estate planning decision. A good attorney can guide you through the process of making financial decisions, as well as assisting with the preparation of your will.

You can use our Free Will Service to aid you find a lawyer to create your will either online, through the post, over the phone or a video clip telephone call, in person at home or in branch with a lawyer.

If you compose a will, you can choose who you intend to sort out your estate.

Your estate is whatever you have, consisting of money, property as well as belongings.

Or, if you 'd rather not utilize our service, we recommend speaking to the Regulation Culture to discover a listing of solicitors near you.

Who are the witnesses? To make sure that your Power of Attorney is legally valid, your attorney and any witnesses you use must be people who are actually related to you. This includes your spouse and children, your parents and any other survivors who may benefit from your Will. Anyone unrelated to you cannot sign or testify on your behalf. You cannot have more than two people as witnesses, and witnesses should normally be related to you by marriage or adoption.

Be Careful: Not All Wills Are Managed

There are many situations in which an estate executor might be appointed. If someone is seriously ill or incapacitated, such as due to a debilitating condition or long-term illness, the will may state that a personal representative should take over the powers and duties of the probate court. The appointee does not have to follow the same standard as that of the other beneficiaries, and can vary according to state probate law. The will can also specify whether the appointment should be temporary permanent, or exclusive.

What needs to be included in a will?

Steps to Make a Will: Decide what property to include in your will. Decide who will inherit your property. Choose an executor to handle your estate. Choose a guardian for your children. Choose someone to manage children's property. Make direct wills trusts . Sign your will in front of witnesses. More items

What's the difference between a Power of Attorney that you make yourself and a will that you make? They are both ways of legally sharing ownership of your assets and financial liabilities, but there is a clear distinction. A Power of Attorney that you make yourself authorizes any financial, medical or legal decisions that you would take on your own. In other words, it gives you the authority to make the decisions, not the other way around. Whereas a will clearly expresses your intentions regarding the manner in which your property and assets will be handled should you become unable to exercise your power of attorney, a Power of Attorney does not express any intentions regarding the manner in which it will happen should you become unable to act.

Another situation in which it may be necessary to appoint an executor is when the testator has minor children who are not included on the testator's list of dependents. If the testator has a living son or daughter, but doesn't have a daughter, then the assets will go to either the father or the daughter depending upon the order of the testator. In read more... , an estate plan with an attorney really should be the most logical choice.

Our Bespoke Wills Service.

For example, if a couple has been married for many years and has a large family, they could possibly designate one as the surviving spouse and instruct that the assets are distributed according to the family line of descent. In addition, there are some specific situations in which a person does not have to appoint an executor. One situation in which this is applicable is when the decedent has no minor children. He or she may simply choose to distribute the remaining assets to his or her surviving spouse and children. However, in the majority of cases, it is necessary to appoint an executor.

What are the three conditions to make a will valid?

Requirements for a Will to Be ValidIt must be in writing. Generally, of course, wills are composed on a computer and printed out. The person who made it must have signed and dated it. A will must be signed and dated by the person who made it. Two adult witnesses must have signed it. Witnesses are crucial.

This is the importance of a will: by design, it ensures that your assets will be distributed according to the wishes of your last living trust. However, if you pass away unexpectedly, without leaving a will, your estate may face problems. If an attempt to revoke goes unsatisfied, there could be claims on your estate for debts or outstanding obligations. Additionally, if there are not enough assets to cover the debt of the decedent, his or her personal properties can be liquidated to pay off the debt. If this happens, it is wise to have a will executed even if it seems that no one wants the assets, so that the process can be followed to ensure the smooth transfer of everything to your final beneficiaries.

It is important to understand what will happen when the person dies. Willingness is often considered an essential component of estate planning. If a person can not speak or take care of themselves properly, it is wise to appoint a personal representative. However, there are situations where it may not always be practical to appoint an executor.

Can property be divided among family members? Property acquired during your lifetime is generally exempt from inheritance taxation. However, there are special situations where your property will be taxed. These include any real property you acquire during your lifetime, certain retirement assets such as mutual funds and bonds and certain life insurance policies.

Many people today, at some point in their lives, are faced with the reality of being able to execute their own will and living their final days peacefully. A will is one of the most important documents a person can create, as it names (and properly name) the intended recipients of inheritance assets. But what happens if your loved ones don't survive you?

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Anyone can "make a Will" despite lacking the mental capacity to do so. Anyone can sign a Power of Attorney or take part in a Will if they meet minimum requirements set forth by law. Anyone who does not meet these minimum requirements is not qualified to sign or participate in a Will.

Financial Debt And Also Money

Will vs. Probate You can state in your Will that either (I) your beneficiaries will be the individual(s) specified in the Will, (ii) that your beneficiaries will receive specific monies held in trust under the Will, or (iii) that specific parties (other than your beneficiaries) will hold the assets specified in the Will until you die. Your Will must be filed with the proper jurisdiction and must include specific authorization for your executors to perform the tasks outlined in it. Some jurisdictions do not require a Will to be filed. Other governing bodies have different standards. In any jurisdiction in which you choose to file a Will, your agent cannot take the property and carry out the specific tasks outlined in the document without your authorization.

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quietlydiabolic · 5 years ago

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“Attack of the Killer Robotos” - BassRock short oneshot fanfic

By: Jixie Fandom: Mega Man Classic @bassrockweek: May 15 - Zombie Rating: G Words: 1770

There was always a sort of order amidst the chaos. For all the trouble and destruction Dr. Wily caused, he also had some sort of compulsion to do things a certain way, using certain patterns. Set zones. Defined attacks. Eight Robot Masters. The winding path through Skull Fortress.

Order amid chaos.

Which is what made this so weird.

It was… unpredictable. Haphazard. Disorderly. Mega Man knew Wily's patterns and habits like the back of his hand, but he never truly appreciated just how predictable the mad scientist was until now, when everything was— well— the best way to describe it was 'on fire'. Mostly on account of all the fires.

They had been waiting to hear from Wily, either bragging about his latest plot, or begging and simpering about how he'd lost control over it, but so far it had been radio silence. Mega Man did his best to stop the robots running amok and rescue civilians and put out fires, both literally and figuratively.

The last thing he needed was Bass showing up to brawl. He never knew if Bass was going to be on their side or in Wily's corner— it was 50/50— and their relationship was pretty nebulous, so Mega Man wasn't sure where he stood with Bass at any given time.

Lucky for him, Bass wordlessly went after the berserker robots instead of hassling Mega Man.

They fought separately for a while, until Bass shot down a Potton delivery drone that was in Mega Man's blindspot. He used that as an opening. "Thanks! Let me guess… Dr. Wily's latest scheme got out of hand?"

"Yeah."

"Another virus?"

Roboenza had caused advanced robots to go wild, while less complex ones simply ceased functioning. This time, everything had come to life, from smart blenders to self-driving vehicles (traditional and flying) to robotic vacuum cleaners.

"Nah." Bass hesitated, because it would help if Mega Man actually knew what was going on. But at the same time, Wily was still convinced he could regain control of the situation, in which case it was better if he left his rival in the dark.

He was still on the fence when Mega Man's face scrunched up in amusement, clapping a hand over his mouth, trying not to laugh and failing miserably. "Oh my goodness, is that… is that a commode?"

Blinking in surprise, Bass glanced over his shoulder, then slowly turned around. Shambling down the road was, in fact, a computerized auto-toilet.

"Oh for cryin' out loud!" Built for consumer use, a single shot was all that was needed to dispatch it, but Bass unleashed a series of rapid fire shots until the hapless appliance was reduced to scrap. "Does EVERYTHING need to be a robot? Sheesh!"

***

Everything being a robot was the problem, really. They fought their way through hordes of air conditioners units, portable terminals, coffee makers, automated tellers, electric bikes, water efficient washing machines…

…and robo-pets, unfortunately. Bass was not-so-secretly enjoying the mayhem, but even he seemed ashamed of having to put down the robotic beasts.

He decided not to fill Mega Man in on the details. It wasn't a virus. It was a remote-control satellite, only somehow Wily had bungled the command codes. Instead of making the world's machinery his loyal subjects, it had turned them into mindless attacking zombies.

But hours dragged on and it was obvious Wily hadn't got a handle on the situation. Even more worryingly, he hadn't heard from him since leaving the fortress.

While they fought to restore order, Dr. Light scrambled to figure out what was going on and how to fix it, Roll and Auto offered support, and Proto Man…

Proto Man showed up, having been off doing his own secretive machinations, tossed energy tanks to the other two, and while they refueled, took a moment to appraise the situation. "Why don't you take this fight to Dr. Wily?"

"I don't think Dr. Wily's in control," Mega Man replied, glancing at Bass. "I'm not sure stopping him will stop this," he gestured at the scene of destruction that lay before them.

"Couldn't hurt to try." The tone in Proto Man's voice suggested he knew more than he was letting on.

Chewing at his lip, Mega Man shot Bass another look. "What do you think?"

If nothing else, they could probably force Wily to shut off the satellite signal. On the one hand: mayhem. Bass didn't exactly want to stop. On the other hand: the whole thing was pretty ridiculous, there was no end in sight, and it was weird that Wily hadn't been in touch.

"Fine."

With that Bass teleported, and Mega Man facepalmed. "Darn it, you know I can't just beam directly into Dr. Wily's fort!"

"Hey, listen." Proto Man threw an arm across his back. "I'm sure Bass never mentioned anything, but this whole disaster ruined our plans."

"What? What plans?" He didn't like the sound of this. Particularly the ‘our’ part of it.

"We were going to catch a movie—"

"A movie? ‘We’? As in… the two of you? A movie?" Mega Man made no attempt to hide his disappointment. "Like a— like a date?"

His brother laughed. "No. Like a ‘trying to teach that idiot normal life skills'. It was going to be a group outing."

"Wh— a group— what group?" He was both relieved and increasingly confused. He'd never met any of Blues' friends. Had Bass? Did they have mutual acquaintances?

"Rock," Proto Man said firmly, turning so that they were face-to-face, planting both hands on Mega Man's shoulders. "Rock." He sounded tired. "Invite. Him. To. The. Movies."

There was an unbelievably awkward pause, and Mega Man gulped loudly.

"O-oh. Right."

***

Mega Man was surprised to find Bass loitering outside the fort. Something was wrong— Bass couldn't teleport inside either.

So they fought their way in the old fashioned way. The badniks inside were just as erratic and violent as the household appliances had been. Not knowing the cause of all this, Mega Man started joking around, making wild, increasingly preposterous guesses for what hare-brained plot Wily had this time.

"Is he trying to scare the public by turning their dishwashers and street sweepers against them, terrorizing them into surrendering and begging for mercy?"

"No."

"Let's see… he wanted to ruin Dr. Light's day because he won the Aperture Scientific Achievement award last week, and because he's a super-villain Dr. Wily didn't even qualify."

"No."

"This is an elaborate cover while he builds a third King, even though the last time—"

"Don't mention that name around me."

"Ummm… he's trying to collapse the economy, to start up a corporate conglomerate monopoly for all consumer gadgets?"

Bass groaned. "Please stop talking."

"He just woke up on the wrong side of the bed this morning."

"No."

One of the weirdest things about all this was the complete and utter lack of Robot Masters. They got through the maze pretty quickly and found the massive arena where, under normal circumstances, Wily would attack with a massive war machine.

It was startlingly empty.

"Where is he?"

Mega Man did a double take. "You don't know?"

Gesturing for him to follow, Bass made his way deeper into the fortress. If Wily wasn't around, what was the point of trying to keep his plans secret? He guided Mega Man to one of the main control rooms, explaining the whole satellite hacking scheme along the way. Calling up Roll, Mega Man used the nearest terminal to create a network link that would allow Dr. Light to download everything he needed directly from Wily's computers.

They waited in silence, Mega Man not willing to leave until Dr. Light was good to go, and Bass unwilling to leave his rival unattended in the fortress.

"Sooooo," Mega Man said, trying to sound casual. "Did you catch the latest Revengers movie?"

"Nope." He then mumbled something about how he was supposed to, and scuffed his foot on the floor in frustration.

Weaving his fingers together, Mega Man offered a small, hopeful grin. "I haven't had a chance to see it yet, either. M-maybe after things are wrapped up here, we could go check it out…?"

It earned a derisive snort, but then Bass shrugged. "Sure, whatever. I don't care."

"Cool." Trying to hide the feeling of glee, he clapped his hands behind his head. "I wonder how they're going to resolve the whole Eternity Jewels story. It's been so hard avoiding spoilers!"

They were in the midst of debating if Atoman's screen adaption was better than the comic version when Roll called in with the all-clear.

"I'm going to go back and help Proto Man handle the zombie-bots until Dr. Light can shut off the satellite." Mega Man hesitated. "Did you want to…?"

"Nah, I gotta find out where Wily got to."

They went their separate ways, but in the middle of a surprisingly intense battle with a commercial impingement oven— able to launch projectiles from its conveyor belt with incredible speed— Mega Man received a text with a set of coordinates.

Catching his look, Proto Man nodded in understanding. "Go, I have this."

They led him to the grounds outside of Skull Fortress, where a desperate, shrieking Dr. Wily clung halfway up a tree, feet scrambling against the trunk, surrounded by three small robotic lawn mower units.

Bass stood in the distance, arms crossed, wicked grin on his face. "Hey," he said as Mega Man approached. "You don't think Dr. Light could shut down the signal to everyone except these guys, could he?"

"Maybe…"

Dr. Wily switched tactics from berating and cursing Bass to pleading with Mega Man.

"We really should help him."

Tilting his head, Bass tapped his chin and pretended to be lost in thought. "I dunno, I think he could use another half an hour up there."

Mega Man laughed. He should help Dr. Wily and take him to jail, he really should.

"…I think I'm going to let you two work this out," he said finally. "Uh, Leitersburg Cinema, 7:30?"

Glancing at him out of the corner of his eyes, Bass shrugged. "Assuming the projectors didn't go nuts, too."

"Oh, shoot!" Mega Man hid his face in his hands. "You're probably right."

But with all the attacks Wily had done over the years, most businesses had contingencies and bounced back pretty quickly. "Think they'll be up and running again by next Thursday?"

"I guess?"

"Fine. It's a date."

He knew that Bass didn't mean a date, rather that they had an agreed appointment…

…but he couldn't help wearing a stupid, goofy grin for the rest of the day.

-- -A/N: Special thanks to @s-uranet for suggestions and brainstorming.

#bassrockweek2020 #mega man fanfic #bassrock #mega man #bass/forte #blueberry #cobra chicken #my fanfic

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