#fake them out every time

[faist-inator]

the way i want to start a radio station

it's primal

[faeriekit]

The Foster Mother

Now on ao3 and VHS release

There was, supposedly, someone waiting for him in the green sitting room.

“…Why?” Tim asked. Most of the usual suspects had already come by to give their “condolences”—former Drakes Industries investors, curious about the newly orphaned heir; fellow socialites, once again flocking in to give and receive sympathies for their “close friends, the Drakes”; gawkers come to see what they could scavenge off of a dead family’s home, never mind that their child was alive.

“She claims to know you, Master Tim,” Alfred offered, kettle in his hand. He spent a moment deciding between different two canisters of tea; a sign of possibly difficult future conversation. “Her interest in your father's estate seemed quite…minimal.”

…Alright.

Tim was still in his formalwear. Dissolving Drake Industries would take at least another year, and plenty of future hours cementing the future home of certain resources in their dissolution, but the outfit probably was more appropriate for whatever oncoming conversation that was about to ensue than his planned change into Dick’s old hoodie and board shorts.

Okay. Tim steeled himself. The self-determination…mostly worked. Whatever. He trudged up into the green sitting room from the kitchen with his usual introduction ready on his tongue.

And then Tim walked into the room.

And then Jazzy was there.

*

Tim had been three, and Miss Jasmine had been his had been his third nanny. He’d outgrown the wetnurse early on, and his second nanny had been dismissed, so although Miss Jasmine was the third nanny, she was first nanny Tim could consciously remember.

She’d had red hair. She’d been very gentle with him.

She got him up in the morning and put him to bed at night; for the first time, there had been someone who sat with him until he was asleep, reading all sorts of books his parents had left to engage him with as an early genius. Then, when those were over and done as promised to his parents, they got unauthorized books from the library: silly books with made-up words, dinosaur books, books about teddy bears and adventures around the world.

Tim hadn’t been allowed to travel the world. Tim hadn’t been allowed a teddy bear. His parents had thought it would encourage undue attachment.

(It had been the same reason he’d never been given a pacifier.)

Miss Jazz had given him a knitted bunny. She’d said her dad had made it especially for him.

The toy’s name was Bunny and Tim remembered him being very soft.

She didn’t smile all the time, but smiles were rewards that were easy to earn. He finished his meal and she smiled. He finished an educational puzzle and she smiled. He was quiet all through her phone call and she smiled, and answered all his questions once she was done.

Jazzy had been the first person in his life who was there all the time. She’d kissed his forehead after the bath and kissed his scraped knees; she’d carried him in his arms when he was tired and sometimes even when he wasn’t. His parents had wanted him to be independent, proactive, and not clingy, but Jazzy had been someone who he could run to from his bed when he’d had nightmares and someone he could cuddle on her lap with when he’d cried.

She was gone when he was seven. He didn’t remember why. His parents had probably never told him, but still; he'd assumed he'd have found out why eventually.

Jazzy looked the same right now as she looked in Tim’s memories, although she was likely no longer a college student at a nannying gig. Her red hair was pulled into a high bun, her dress modest and conservative from her neck to her ankles. There was a backpack beside her foot. She was sitting, one leg crossed over the other, on the high-backed loveseat in the green sitting room.

She looked up when he came in.

Tim. Stopped in his tracks.

It didn’t matter. Jazzy—Miss Jasmine stood up as soon as she saw him, eyes alight with worry. Foggy memories were swimming to the forefront of Tim’s brain. He couldn’t move.

“Tim?” Ja—Miss Jasmine asked, teal eyes raking over his frame. Tim froze where he was. He didn’t move, wide-eyed and terrified for no reason at all when Miss Jasmine got closer to him, at a distance that was more appropriate for a conversation.

She stood there. Watching him. It felt like his mother had just come home from her trips with Dad, and a ghost of old terror wafted through him as he waited for her to decide he’d done something wrong. Her voice got softer. Her eyes got softer. Why was Tim feeling so wrong-footed?? It was only a former staff person!

“Tim?” her voice was so gentle. “I don’t know if you remember me. I’m—“

“M’s Jazz,” Tim croaked. Which. Wasn’t the level of formality he’d been going for, but better than Jazzy. He wasn’t a toddler anymore.

Miss Jasmine was so tall—honestly, was she taller than Bruce? She’d seemed insurmountable as a child; he hadn’t expected her height to truly be so statuesque as an adult.

(Or. Well. Almost an adult.)

She didn’t quite kneel down, but she did stoop lower, as if Tim was small and he needed to be on equal footing in order to have a serious conversation.

He could see all her freckles. Tim swallowed. It was too familiar. Everything about her was too familiar.

“You’re so big now,” Jazzy whispered, looking at his hair, his suit, his polished shoes. He didn’t feel it. “Oh, you’ve grown up so well.”

Thanks, Tim almost said. Something stopped him—something thick in his throat, to impassable to break through.

“I—“ he tried. He coughed. “Why…you… You’re here?”

Jazzy threw him an incredulous look, and then an incredibly wry one. “Well,” she drawled a little too primly, in the way that Alfred occasionally made obvious statements, “I’d think it obvious that when one’s parents have passed away, that those who care about you might come to check and see if you’re alright.”

Which. That didn’t make sense. Jazzy hadn’t come back for any other reason; she hadn’t come back for his mother’s funeral, nor when his father was injured publicly by a villain. Why start now?

“And,” Jazz added, seeing his visual confusion and distrust, “Your parents can’t exactly threaten me with a kidnapping charge for visiting you when they’re dead.” Pause. “Which I am sorry about. My condolences.”

Which. Whiplash. What a statement.

“Uh,” said Tim, who was rapidly losing control over the situation.

Jazzy stood again, and went back to her seat; she didn’t set herself down, though, as she only stooped to grab her backpack. “I am sorry for being unable to visit, although I really wanted to; you were at a very vulnerable age and had already moved into a class a year above you, and your parents should have been less hasty about replacing your main caretaker. The assassination attempts were unwarranted, but they did drive the point home that attempting contact was perhaps discouraged.”

“What,” said Tim. “Assassin what.”

“They were ninjas,” Jazzy offered, as if that was an answer. “Except the last one, which was a former marine. The point is that I do care about you, and wanted to ask if you had any idea where you’re going now that your parents are no longer…available guardians.”

Tim’s mouth opened. It closed.

Jazzy waited patiently.

“…How have you been?” Tim tried, resorting to a part of the script they hadn’t gone through yet.

Jazzy’s laugh was tired, but no less real. It was nothing like listening to his parents titter politely; he didn’t think Jazzy would even know how to fake a laugh. “Well, my brother told me that my former bosses had died, which was somewhat stressful. Otherwise, I’m pretty happy: I live with my brother and worked with him for the last few years. I was going to pursue medicine, but…well. The assassination attempts made it hard to interview for scholarships. I suppose that I could return to that now,” Jazzy mused, attention now elsewhere. She pulled the backpack off the floor and up into her grip. She opened it, and flipped through its contents. “How are you doing? I know that Wayne Manor fosters, but your parents were always rather…hands off. I thought the difference in levels of attention might be overwhelming.”

It was. Tim should be surprised how clearly she sees through him—

—But Jazzy used to watch him stim for almost a full hour after school, twisting Bunny’s arms back and forth until he could calm down. Seeing other people all day had been too much for him. Coming home from his parents’ parties had been similarly stressful.

She’d never been mad at him for it. She held him while he talked and stimmed and talked and talked and talked, and brushed his hair sometimes, or if it was very late and he was very young, helped him brush his teeth through all the medieval execution facts he could name.

“It is a lot to get used to,” Tim agreed quietly. He didn’t want to be ungrateful. He didn’t want to let on anyone about his plan to leave.

He had an out. The papers had already been filed; there was an actor waiting to play his uncle for a custody battle, ready for the fight.

Tim was ready to up and go. It was no hardship to leave all the good things here; anything beat making Bruce stick his fingers into Tim any deeper than they already were, compromising the dynamic they’d already established.

It was for the best.

“I can imagine,” Jazzy sympathized easily. “And I wanted to offer—well. I know there’s probably a lot of choices available to you, but my brother and I recently moved back to Gotham proper for the time being. He’s teaching astronomy courses at the university and I’m filing paperwork for Arkham patients. It’s not so privileged a home, but it’s quieter, and more central in town.”

…Tim’s heart skipped.

He. He couldn’t stop staring. Jazzy stared back at him, quiet and sure. Sure of what, Tim had no idea, but…

Why? Why would she want Tim? There was no way she would be able to get to his trust fund without his help, and he for sure knew better than to enable her ability to leech from him. The last time she’d known him, Tim had been a snot-nosed kid who cried all the time and couldn’t be normal for twenty consecutive minutes. His parents couldn’t even stand to be on the same hemisphere as him as a child. What appeal did this have for her?? What could having a teenager with severe baggage living in her house do for her?

And it’s not like there was any chance she knew he was Robin!

“Oh,” Jazzy suddenly interrupted. “I brought these for you, by the way. Your parents had tossed them out at various points; I’ve washed them since, of course.”

She handed him the backpack by the handle.

…Tim peeked inside.

On top was Bunny, still a washed-out faded sort of pink. He looked as fresh as he had the day when Tim’s parents had ”cleaned out” Tim’s nursery—in other words, a faded, a little gray, and slightly discolored from an old spaghetti stain. His button eyes were big and blue.

And beneath him were books that hadn’t passed his father’s muster as appropriately masculine reading material: The Velveteen Rabbit, with the cover a little scarred from a fierce attack of wet wipes. There’s A Monster at the End of This Book, with a goofy-looking Muppet on the cover, gold spine beat up beyond belief. Art Tim’s teacher at the time must have laminated and sent home; Tim’s dorky, crayon cat proved he would never make it as an artist, but attached to it was a photograph of a grinning boy with a bowl cut and a missing tooth.

Tim stared. There’d been purple marker on his hands and face. His grin looked…really bad, actually, like as if he was baring his teeth because he didn’t know how to smile. There was no formal grace there. Nothing to show the neighbors, nothing worth framing to put into the line of sight of the investors in the office.

Jazzy had kept it and brought it home with her. Jazzy had fished it out of the trash, and brought it with her to give back to him in Gotham.

It was crinkled like it’d been folded, over and over again. Further down in the bag was a crumpled certificate dedicated to “Timmy Drake, for: knowing a lot about octopi”, and a baby blanket Tim didn’t even remember. It had rocket ships on it. It looked as if someone had cut into it with scissors, although it had been obviously and brightly mended with red embroidery floss later on.

Jazzy had only been his nanny until Tim was seven. She had simply been gone one night, and Mom and Dad had been home for ten nights after without help before giving in and hiring Mrs. McIlvane and Mrs. Edith. Ms. Edith had never been so…permissive…with Tim as Jazzy had been.

Tim swallowed. He carefully put everything back into the backpack, unsure if he even wanted to keep it or not. It wasn’t like he could leave it here; he’d be gone, ideally, before the week was out. There was no point in taking it with him if he only planned to live with a stranger until he was eighteen.

“J…” Tim tried. He cut himself off before he could get too informal without prompting. “Miss Jasmine—“

“Just Jazz,” Jazzy corrected politely.

“—Why are you here?” Tim asked, ignoring how she’d technically already answered. He didn’t believe her. “What made my parents fire you?”

Jazzy’s expression turned…soft. Tim couldn’t look at her. Something horrible was welling with it, and he didn’t know how to cope.

“I’m here because I care about you,” Jazz repeated, and knelt beside him. She looked up into his face, and took his hand. Tim didn’t know why. He was practically an adult—he didn’t need this!

“And I was fired because your Mother overheard you calling me ‘Mommy’ on accident when you were tired. I suppose she was insulted, although I’d never know why; it’s not like she was ever home to bond with you in the first place.”

Tim’s throat closed. He missed his mom. He missed waiting up for his parents’ flight home, seeing their headlights outside the window, and knowing they’d bring home gifts from overseas. He missed using Mom’s perfume, and knowing he’d used more of the bottle sitting on her dressed than she ever had, but that it still smelled like her. He missed hearing his Dad telling all sorts of adventure stories and promises through the phone to be home for the holidays, even if Tim knew there was every chance he’d find some other way to spend the time back in Gotham.

And there was some small child in him who missed Jazzy, who hugged him and walked him to the library and made him soup from a can instead of fancy dinners and, who’d never needed to be waited for in the first place.

Tim looked at Jazzy’s round, freckled face.

He swallowed.

Tim moved out before the end of the week, as expected.

[hindahoney]

So many of you are genuinely monsters and you think you're the heroes. Forgive me for not believing that any of you ever actually gave a shit about Palestinians, as you sit here in your pro-hamas rallies with swastika flags while you chant "gas the jews!" and tear down posters of kidnapped hostages. You glorify Hamas, the terrorist organization that uses and abuses Palestinians, that shoots them if they try to evacuate from zones that Israel has warned they're going to strike.

You have been silent for decades while Lebanon and Jordan keep their Palestinian population in refugee camps. You have been silent when no other neighboring country has given Palestinians citizenship status that would enable them to live a comfortable, normal life. You were silent when Palestinian Islamic Jihad and Hamas rockets misfire and kill innocent Palestinians. You were silent when Hamas steals aid meant for civilians. You were silent when Hamas dug up water pipes from the ground so that they could make more rockets.

If you were silent then, you're using Palestinians as a mask for your Jew-hatred. If you want to really advocate for Palestinians, keep the same energy for every country, not just the only Jewish state, and try to educate yourself on what Israelis have been doing to try to help Palestinians, because I promise you it's way more than you've ever done in your life.

[least-carpet]

Hiiii, if it's not too much, can you describe the biggest differences between the live action characters and the novel characters in MDZS? They are a lot, so I will love even the difference between few of them! I haven't seen the live action and I don't know if I will ever, but I am curious, considering all the meta. Anyway, thank you in general, even if you don't answer!

Hello anon! This has been in the inbox forever because there are soooo many ways to answer this! However, let me be transparent that I've watched maybe like 1/10 of CQL. Among other obstacles, I simply do not care that much about Lan Wangji and he's always there (even though Wang Yibo is giving it his all... it's not his fault I'm a hater...). Chewing through a book with Ms. Mxtx's commentary was just more enjoyable to me, and even then, to be honest, I still liked SVSSS better. (I just love Shen Yuan/Shen Qingqiu so much. That dude is wild.)

Still, the live action definitely affected how I understood certain characters (...primarily Nie Huaisang) and made me interested in relationships that I didn't pay any attention to in the novel. (I freely admit that the nieyao brainrot is 100% CQL's fault.) Also I found Wang Zhuocheng's Jiang Cheng very cute and loveable. It definitely contributed to my Jiang Cheng Brain Disease.

LISTEN. HE HAS BIG SAD EYES AND THE MEANEST SNEER AND HE MIGHT BURST INTO TEARS AT ANY TIME. HE IS A BABY. A baby who could kill you with his terrifying lightning whip! But a baby nonetheless, to me.

So if you want someone with a real and knowledgeable opinion on the live action, I'm probably not the right person for that! However, here's one difference that changed a bunch of stuff about the characters that I found compelling in the novel: the second flautist.

CQL adds Su She as a second flautist doing unorthodox cultivation in a couple of different places, including at Qiongqi Path, where he seizes control of Wen Ning and is therefore responsible for Jin Zixuan's death. Removing the responsibility for Jin Zixuan's death from Wei Wuxian creates a bunch of cascading character and relationship implications that I don't love.

Firstly, all of the people who cautioned Wei Wuxian against his unorthodox cultivation are now... wrong. If he never lost control, then actually his assessment that he could maintain control wasn't overconfidence, it was just true, and he was persecuted because the Jin needed a scapegoat and wanted the Yin Tiger Tally, not because his cultivation path actually involved significant risks and drawbacks. (To be fair, the Jins actively exploited those drawbacks, the public perception of his cultivation, and Wei Wuxian's failure to manage his reputation. But it matters whether the risks exist or are just made up.)

Secondly, removing his responsibility for Jin Zixuan's death transforms both Wei Wuxian's character and how we understand his relationships with Jiang Yanli, Jiang Cheng, and Jin Ling. Because, in the novel, he kills Jin Zixuan under duress but also after a lifetime of conflict with him. Like, he hates the dude, he doesn't think he's worthy of Jiang Yanli, and he's not willing to examine his hatred and resentment even though Jiang Yanli loves Jin Zixuan and wants to marry him, even after she marries him and has a child with him. (I would argue that a lot of the resentment is because of the eventual marriage; by marrying Jiang Yanli, Jin Zixuan becomes legally recognized family to the Jiang siblings, while Wei Wuxian's relationship with them has no social recognition; I think Wei Wuxian is deeply threatened by that but can't articulate it.) It's a huge failure! Like, dude, you loved someone and you killed that person's beloved spouse. That points to a certain degree of repressed jealousy, possessiveness, longing, arrogance, the list goes on... I am so compelled by that conflict, and the adaptation just erases it.

This also affects how we read Jin Ling's relationship with Wei Wuxian. In one scenario, a teenage Jin Ling is (eventually, minus one little stab) ending the cycle of violence by not seeking vengeance for his father's murder. In the other, it was actually someone associated with Jin Ling's paternal family that killed his father, and he's maybe just... coming to terms with that? One of these scenarios is so much richer and more interesting.

How it affects the relationship between Jiang Cheng and Wei Wuxian is a little more subtle. It locates the responsibility for a lot of the harm done to the Jiang siblings with the Jin sect, not with Wei Wuxian, removing some of Wei Wuxian's culpability in the devolution of his relationship with Jiang Cheng. If Wei Wuxian isn't guilty of wronging the Jiang family (and instead is also a victim of the Jin sect), then all of Jiang Cheng's rage and betrayal was misdirected. They were both tricked. In some ways, maybe that's easier to patch up after canon? (I wonder if this is why many CQL yunmeng shuangjie reconciliation fics have Jiang Cheng apologize to Wei Wuxian, but not the other way around?) But it's so much less interesting to me!

Finally, it removes Wei Wuxian's tragic flaw! Dude is legitimately a genius but he's got hubris coming out of his ears and it fucks him up big time! This is classic stuff. Please stop flattening my boy!!

[lucky-clover-gazette]

just spent three hours verbally outlining a revised star wars sequel trilogy with several nerd friends and i love our version of ben solo that doesn’t exist

[iraprince]

speaking of fishtanks actually. if u have ever found yourself interested in keeping aquatic pets, but have held back bc ur unsure about a pet that u can't touch/interact with -- basically, about having a pet that will not be able to feel or express affection for you -- i really recommend u return to ur research and think about it just a little more.

it was a reservation i also had at first -- i'm used to mammals! things that snuggle with u and choose to spend time with u. but what i have discovered thru aquarium keeping is that there is a distinct but equally valuable feeling of love and peace and accomplishment from putting together a safe, beautiful environment for a group of creatures, for no reason other than to watch them enjoy it.

like, there are also aquatic pets that CAN and will socialize or behave in ways that can be understood as affectionate -- bettas will come to recognize you and usually greet their owners, a lot of more intelligent fish like cichlids etc have strong personalities, etc. you can find overlap between the experiences you'll have w aquatic + non-aquatic pets. but that's not rly what i'm talking abt in this case!

like, i have really really enjoyed having shrimp, who frankly do not give a shit about me at all. they don't know i exist (beyond, like, 'Sometimes There Is A Large Shape Out There.') they don't even come up to the front glass in anticipation of food the way fish do -- they really do not interact with me in any capacity ever, aside from curiously checking out my tools when i'm doing maintenance on the tank.

but they're happy and healthy. they enjoy the shade under leaves the big cryptocoryne i planted in the back corner. they spend all day plucking algae off the three glass walls that i purposefully leave unscraped to make sure they'll have enough. they go fucking apeshit when i grudgingly give them a little crumb of crappy pleco wafer, Junk Food Of The Sea. basically, they have a peaceful home that i made for them, and it seems like they like it quite a bit. it's really really nice to be the silent custodian of a little ecosystem like that.

[supercalime]

Honest question, why do yall care? I mean, if it’s real, good for them but like, this feels so gross. I’ve seen how fans treat them like characters, they deserve all the privacy they can get, relationship or not

[averlym]

gold star for cathy parr!

[sadlynotthevoid]

I was feeling like a bit of slightly-angsty isolation this thursday, so...

AU where, instead of a double transmigration happening, RokSoo transmigrated to ogCale's body, but ogCale was put into a newly made double of his body and confined into a dimension pocket.

And just, no one knows about it and he can't get out until certain conditions are reached. For example: that someone finally gets rid of WS.

Luckily for him, RokSoo and company are rather fast to kill the white star. It only took them two years, way better than in his previous timeline.

Although, those are still two years in which og!Cale, the 40-year-old war soldier turned an 18-year-old time-traveler, had to spend trapped in that place. Completely alone except for the occasional god checking on him, and a few animals a god had the kindness to let for him. (It was Loki, but no one is going to call him out).

Og!Cale is a person who loves easily and deeply but, contrary to his true nature, someone who lived through decades without deep boundaries to gave him feedback. Whether it was during the war that took everyone he knew from him, or before that, with the family he choose to stay at distance and love them from the side-lines. He lived so long without feeling genuine care, making any emotional bond that isn't one-sided, that he's hungry for them.

Being in the past, where everyone he loves hadn't died yet, where they will live, and being so close— just a dimensional door away, really— but not being able to see them, hear them, nor even talk to them... It hurts.

He's happy and so, so glad. They're alive. They can laugh and eat and breath again— and, someday, he will see them again. Even if they don't know how to act with him and is uncomfortable. Even if, most probably, they don't know he's not there and don't miss him, he will see them again.

So, yeah, he's fine with this situation. He accepted this.

That doesn't mean that the waiting doesn't suck. He, a freedom loving person, trapped in the godly version of a safehouse. Most of the days it's only he, his thoughts and the ridiculous massive library Athena managed to fit in here. And his friends, the animals, of course.

Inside of that lonely place, of course, Cale gets attached to the animals that are by his side everyday. He was already an animal lover, to begin with. The little guys who just go through their lives being absolutely adorable and are more loyal than most people around... How can he not love them?

Besides, Athanasia, the griffin, gives the best cuddles he has ever had.

He gets used, eventually. It's not like he never had lived in a big house where the only beings around wouldn't speak more than three words to him. (Well, at least the animals try to talk with him. He just needed to learn what they mean.)

And Cale can do whatever he wants here. If he wants to play the violin or paint, do acrobatics or keep his training, he can just do it. There's no need to hide. No need to restrain himself.

There's no one here to get sad at her memories. No one to spread rumors about 'skills' or 'talents'. No one to turn his interests into weapons against his own family by comparing Bassen to him.

Eventually, it feels like a different kind of freedom here.

—And then he gets out.

[sonknuxadow]

its been almost 5 years why are people still saying that they made sonic ugly on purpose as a marketing tactic . please that theory is so easily debunked . internet stop spreading misinformation about sonic challenge failed immediately

[fuckyeah-bears]

"real jewish people stand with palestinians and support a free palestine." - look, i agree with this entire post, but unless you're jewish yourself (if you are, disregard this), please don't speak about good jews, bad jews, real jews, fake jews. my zionist relatives are just as jewish as my staunchly anti-zionist acquaintances.

i am jewish. and i have zero respect for jewish people who are zionists. just as i have zero respect for non-jewish people who are zionists. just as i have zero respect for my jewish family members who are zionists

[sunnibits]

is anyone else like a huge fan of various medias, huge fan of characters, loves exploring plots and themes and character development, genuinely very enthusiastic about storytelling in general… but like, somehow physically incapable of making plot lines you care about with your own original characters. or like straight up being unable to create ocs you’re actually invested in???

like, you know what you like, you enjoy so many stories, you spend so much time digging into and delighting in the themes and tropes you like, and yet every time you try to make an original concept yourself it’s just impossible to make something compelling to you???? which makes no damn sense bc it’s literally coming from your own head so wouldn’t it be as self indulgent and perfect for you as possible??????

or is this just a unique me problem bc I swear to god it’s driving me insane

[hammill-goes-fogwalking]

THIS IS NOT PRETTY.

this is not natural.

the human body is not build like this naturally.

this should not be the new average women body standard

don't punish yourself or get complexes because you don't look like a porn star

a healthy, natural body is much prettier

[weareuniqueandimportant]

EMPATHY GLAMORIZATION IS NOT ABOUT EMPATHY BUT SUPERIORITY TORWARDS APATHETIC PEOPLE BIGOTRY TORWARDS THEM TYPICAL BIGOT EVIL. SIMPLE AS THAT. IF YOU SEE THEM AS LEFTIST YOU'RE NO LEFTIST YOURSELF. HORRIBLE. THAT IS IMPOSSIBLE TO HAVE ONLY EMPATHY AND BAD TO THINK EVERYTHING YOU DO IS SUCH ESPECIALLY WHEN THEY'RE CLEARLY BEING APATHETIC IF ANYTHING WHEN THEY DO THIS...

COMES TO SHOW BIGOTRY TORWARDS CRAZY AND DISABLED PEOPLE ASWELL AS PARAPHILIA PEOPLE ISN'T TAKEN AT ALL THE SAME AS SEXISM RACISM AND QUEERPHOBIA... OR PERHAPS... LIKELY... THEY ARE ALL THE BIGOTED THINGS EVIL AND TAKE NONE THAT SERIOUSLY... BELITTLING DOWN THEIR PAIN AND DAMAGE...

[the-moogle-of-your-nightmares]

i fucking hate 'do it scared' and every single variation of it that i've seen just gets worse. bets on how long it'll take before people go full mask off and add on 'do it in excruciating pain' lol

[dalennaugw]

Really appreciate my partner being willing to listen to me while I vented things out about the recent drama here and then provide his own perspective, as a Latino (he's expressed he doesn't like POC as a term - too monolithic) looking in from the outside. Among other things, it reassured me that 1) it indeed wasn't worth getting into the weeds of it from where I've been standing, and 2) I'm nonetheless not being crazy or unreasonable for feeling what I do about this mess and the effect it's having on what should be safe spaces for all of us.

I'm gonna put some of those thoughts under a cut. And I'm considering turning off reactions for this post because while I hope it gets seen, I don't want to restart the discourse if it's dying down like I think (hope?) it is here.

At the end of the day, no one should be alienated for thoughtless mistakes (let alone personal preferences). But, those mistakes still need to be corrected, not just forgotten in the process of defending the one making them against harrassment.

And, by the same token, no one else should be alienated, either, for expressing that someone's stupid mistake is still hurtful. Nor should they be if they point out a lopsided amount of support to the other party involved, despite BOTH having been made to feel unsafe. This applies ESPECIALLY when all the facts of the situation aren't clear or present to everyone.

One person being threatened, and then feeling alienated enough to try to leave, has led to multiple other people then getting harassed, put down, dismissed, and/or alienated enough to also start leaving WHO HAD NOTHING TO DO WITH THE THREATS MADE AGAINST THE FIRST PERSON. And this is at least partially because all the relevant details surrounding the issue weren't put out at the same time, nor in the same places, and many people not even involved kept piping up in reaction only to what they DID see, rather than looking further into it, or even just waiting and listening first.

And to be just a little less abstract - guys - and by that, I mean to primarily address the other white people for this part - there's something to be said about white fragility here. Even without having spoken with the girl who accidentally kickstarted all of this, even though I can't confirm or deny it's actually the case, I'm still willing to bet money that that fragility had something to do with her initial reactions here being as strong as they were. I'm also willing to bet money that some of the people quickly jumping to her defense might have been feeling it, too.

When you take the anxiety already present from her prior harrassment, add in the pushback she got at the march for her mistake, and add whatever ??? negative messages she might have gotten privately during and after, if she did, that's already a bomb you've got there... and with white fragility on top of that, that magnifies the reaction by a lot.

The thing about that fragility is that it's often bad enough, and results in a strong-enough reaction, that it shuts down any and all conversation related to whatever triggered it. It's that cognitive dissonance that happens when you unwittingly do or say something racist, realize or (more commonly) get called out for it, and can't reconcile those facts with your beliefs that racism is not something good people do and that you can't be a racist, that's not what you're about - and it can lead to shutting down, tears, rage, denial, etc. And if you're engaging in any of those responses, 1) you're already stopping a needed conversation from happening, 2) you're making the other people involved feel unsafe and unimportant to you, and 3) you're encouraging others to come in to defend you and close ranks, allowing you to lick your emotional wounds while making those first two effects even worse.

It's not necessarily intentionally malicious? Given her behavior later, especially her apology... and her apparent disappearance right afterward... I don't think it was intentional on her part. It can certainly be weaponized, but it's also often a subconscious reaction (and that makes it even harder to address). But even though it wasn't intentional - it still caused a lot of damage! You can see that just from looking back through all the discourse and at how many other people are now disappearing or going on hiatus.

Again, not having talked to her personally, I can't confirm if that was also a factor. But it wouldn't surprise me at all. And none of us white folks are immune to it. None of us. If you had a strong reaction to the mention of racism in this discourse, and/or if you had one at the idea of your friend engaging in it... it was affecting you, too.

To step back from that part now.

Look.

Making sure that everyone involved in a community (or watching it) feels safe and welcome and heard is a balancing act, especially when anyone slips up. And guys, we borked that act up big-time.