#i think cheris is the only one who might be too niche

[autistic-puffin]

BLORBO POLL

Rules: make a poll with five of your all-time favourite characters and then tag five people to do the same. See which character is everyone's favourite.

Thank you @variousqueerthings for the tag!

edit: right yeah tagging game, no pressure at all

@snarkystenonychosaurus @oakleaf--bearer @transgender-anakin-skywalker @fandoms-are-my-lifestyle @aviator9266

for those who don't know who Cheris is, she's a math-obsessed space lesbian who is really tight with the robot serving class that everyone else ignores and i love her so much

[alisarb]

the nature of frenchie and kimiko’s relationship

in every frenchie-kimiko video about their relationship there’s always someone commenting how much they ship it and there’s always someone else pointing out that their relationship in the comics is like father and daughter

so, being the obsessive shipper that I am and weirdly overthinking everything about a tv show because i can’t enjoy things like normal people, i decided to write this post to defend why I think their relationship in the show (and even a bit in the comics) is anything BUT paternal, and why their relationship in tv vs. comics is so different

(please bear in mind this is my opinion and in no way i wanna force ships onto anyone, you’re free to interpret stories and ship characters however you want!!)

Okay, the first thing we learn about frenchie in the show is that he is a man of many skills: in his own words, a gunrunner by trade, but with a very particular niche. we also learn he used to be a hitman, probably, and then he talks about his victims like scars he has to carry forever. he’s the first character apart from hughie that expresses some kind of remorse in the show about killing someone up until that point in the show (and i know it’s only the second episode, but by then we’d already seen quite enough violence)

he’s a layered character from the beginning, going from what looks like a man who likes his pills way too much and who seems dangerous to someone who actually has more to offer. still, he has other personality traits that differentiate him from the rest: frenchie describes himself as a womanizer in a conversation with m.m, who he mocks for being in a loving relationship with his wife. he “goes to sleep every night next to someone different.” we’ve met cherie by then but we can assume they are not really in a relationship by this statement, more like a casual lovers situation

and then, like a joke from fate, he meets kimiko. and from the very beginning they form a connection like no other. one can argue that their earlier interactions are kinda sweet and tender and not romantic at all, but from what i see, they share the kind of intimacy that most tv couples wish they could convey without even touching. their chemistry is undeniable 

on top of that, as their relationship progresses, kimiko begins to return the affection. she goes from this killing machine that can’t stand to be touched to initiate contact with (and only) frenchie, because he’s her source of comfort and reassuring. at mesmer’s, kimiko looks at him because he’s the only person that she can trust and the first one to show her kindness in who knows how long

the rest of the group is understandably wary of kimiko, as she has proved to brutal and ruthless. frenchie is the only one who understands her, and that’s why he frees her that first time: to give her a choice 

in exchange, when they are at mesmer’s,he asks her to show them what he sees, and she complies. because she doesn’t trust the rest yet, but she trusts frenchie. and even with that first vision he doesn’t doubt for a second that she can’t be just a terrorist. so kimiko shares with them and relives her trauma: the murder of her parents, being removed from her home and sent to a camp with her brother, being forced to become a soldier, being injected with compound v and becoming a supe with a talent for mass murder just to be locked in a cage like an animal... 

the look they share after that revelation is anything but platonic and/or paternal:

LOOK AT MM AND BUTCHER. BUTCHER IS LIKE WTF AND M.M SHRUGGED LIKE “NOTHING TO BE DONE HE’S IN LOVE YOUR HONOR”

sorry about the excitement this scene makes me wanna squeal with delight

shortly after, kimiko is watching shark week again and frenchie comes up to her to talk about vought and how they’re hurting people like they hurt her, how she could help them stop it. at first kimiko keeps staring at the TV and looks defensive, but the moment he says: “it’s your choice, if you wanna go back and look for your brother i’ll take you to the airport” she looks at him, surprised. 

because he keeps giving her a choice, which is the core of their relatiionship

and, as another user pointed out in a post a while ago, if you watched the show with the captions on (as i did bc english is not my native language) as she holds his hand, you can hear and read that shark week talks about mating and how if a female shark returns the male’s feelings will make some sort of move. one could think that this was accidental but c’mon, this show doesn’t leave anything a coincidence 

it’s clear from the beginning that frenchie is completely smitten with her. in fact, we see small glimpses of him literally OBSESSING over her from the beginning: he meets with cherie to get the gas to sedate kimiko and we learn he hasn’t been with her in a while. i’m sure he was plenty busy with the whole vought + kimiko situation, but at that point they were all living separately and they returned to their places even if it was less frequently than usual (and cherie seemed to spend a lot of time in his place, if not even living there)

he cooks for her when she’s chained and then later on he teaches her HOW TO BAKE my heart 

I could keep listing every moment when Frenchie looks at Kimiko (because his eyes inevitably follow her at any scene) or how the rest of The Boys is so aware of what they are (”you’re dating a terrorist”/”your crazy ass girlfriend”), and (SPOILERS SEASON 2 STOP READING FOR A SECOND) in the s2 we see how Frenchie is dog tired, probably angry and frustrated, and his face automatically changes when Kimiko goes to show him the origami piece. He smiles sweetly because she makes him happy, and amidst all the chaos they are going through one of his main worries is still Kimiko and how to understand and communicate with her.

END OF SPOILRS SEASON 2 

One of the last moments is in the finale, when Kimiko is finally pulling herself back together after years of abuse and mistreatment by brushing her hair, wearing pretty clothes or painting her nails. Simple acts that make her feel like she’s a person. When she comes out of the bathroom, he looks at her with pure AWE. He even says “look at you, mon coeur”, because it’s like she’s the prettiest thing he’s seen. When the gas comes into the room he pushes her into the bathroom first thing. 

M.M’s face at the end when they’re surrounded and he sees Frenchie hitting his head against the wall because even though he’s been shot he only wants to go get Kimiko, I think it says everything. His face when he talks about Kimiko and how she made him a better person. The way he pulled the hair out of her face. 

I really love how everything is coming together this new season, so now I’d like to address the main issue of this post: the nature of their relationship and how it’s nothing like the comics. 

There’s a very basic reason to why I believe their relationship is romantic, and not only by the actors’ interactions in Instagram, or the way Amazon promotes their relationship, but because the comics are so different from the tv show. 

Every character’s background story is changed, and so are their motivations, personalities and, as far as we’ve seen, their storylines. In the show they’ve made it pretty clear that Kimiko and Frenchie share a connection that resembles that of a soulmate. 

And even in the comics, (spoiler) when they’re about to die, Frenchie turns around and tells her that he’s loved her since the beginning. I don’t think that’s very father-like. 

In conclusion, it’s likely that they’ll make us wait for a long time before we get more romantic interaction (especially since Kimiko is growing as a character and that might mean she might need to grow on her own, which I think is great), but it’s been clear since the beginning that they are meant to be. I WILL DIE ON THIS HILL 

[artificialqueens]

Chamomiles, Chrysanthemums, and Everything In Between [Gigi x Nicky] - ChaosKatya

summary: In which Gigi’s a florist, and she’d like to think she usually has a pretty good head on her shoulders. That is until a new tattoo artist starts shifts in the studio opposite and well, now Gigi’s not quite sure what’s going on with herself anymore. Everyone else seems to know, but Gigi sure doesn’t.

a/n: first full chapter ive ever posted! again, let me know what you think @chaoskatya <3

“Gigi… Earth to Miss Goode? Gigi. GIGI!”

Jaida claps loud, startling Gigi from her trance. Bolting up from where she was leaning on the counter, she turns so quickly to face her coworker she nearly knocks her iced coffee flying. She stumbles for it, saving it from tipping over, smiling sweet like nothing happened.

“Yes, Miss Hall?”

Jaida laughs softly. “Do not Miss Hall me. Girl I was talking to you for a hot minute before I realized no one was home up in that pretty head of yours.”

“Rude. I was nodding and everything?”

“Uh huh. And what was I talking about?” Jaida props her hand on her hip, waiting for an answer.

Gigi wracks her brain, and comes up empty. She at least tries to smile to make up for it. “Uhh, the schedule for the succulent shipment arriving tomorrow?”

Jaida laughs, loud and brief. “Ha! Nice try. Wrong.” She swipes for Gigi’s drink, taking a hearty sip to cement her new ownership.

“Hey–!” Gigi tries to protest, attempting to grab for it but Jaida just holds up a perfectly manicured nail at her.

“Nu uh. You don’t deserve this. ‘Sides, it was totally half melted from how long you were spacing out there. What’s on your mind, girl?”

“Nothing! I’m just. Distracted, that’s all,” Gigi sighs, and can’t help but flicker her eyes out towards Wallflower’s storefront.

Jaida doesn’t miss it. She follows Gigi’s eyes out the window, and raises her eyebrows in understanding. “Mmhm… I’m sure you are,” she smirks and walks away, sipping Gigi’s coffee loudly for punctuation, “Make sure you finish your orders for pickup today before you chase your french fantasy, ma cheri.”

Gigi opens her mouth to argue, then just makes a frustrated noise in defeat. Jaida’s not wrong, she just hates how obvious it’s become. It’s been getting worse, now only 10 am and her head’s already in the clouds and she has yet to actually start working on any of the arrangements she’d meant to have started almost an hour ago. Tying her long hair out of her eyes, she stands at her work station for a good while, staring at the order forms handed to her this morning. All small individual orders, mostly early Valentine’s arrangements for folks looking to beat the inevitable price hike or gifting early to work around prior plans, or some highschoolers probably asking people out to prom since the season’s coming up. Relatively simple and easy for Gigi’s skill, but she still can’t get herself to focus. When nothing comes to her, probably from the lack of coffee, she decides not to linger and gets up to check on the displays.

She goes over a checklist in her head for things she could do that’s still considered productive but isn’t at her actual arrangement station. She checks soil moisture in the succulents, watering the drier ones, prunes some of their smaller flowering shrubs that are getting a little bushy, and double checks the temperatures on the floral coolers.

She’s wiping down the leaves on a large monstera in the houseplant section when she smacks herself on the forehead, realizing she’s subconsciously navigated herself towards the front of the store and is now conveniently right beside the front window. Still, she can’t help herself, and tries to peer across the pedestrian street in hopes that at least seeing her today will temporarily get her out of her system.

It’s been a week since Harmonize, the tattoo studio across Wallflower, had filled in their vacancy and signed on their newest artist. The two stores are fairly friendly, when Gigi was hired over a year ago the owner Widow had brought over fresh baked bread to introduce herself, and it was one of their artists Crystal whom Gigi chose to ink the small piece on her rib. In fact, the two grew pretty close and she’s hung out with Crystal as many times as she’s hung out with Jaida who’s her actual coworker, the three of them often grabbing lunch or a drink together if time permits. It was her understanding that even before Gigi had joined the team, all the stores on their little promenade area were relatively familiar with each other. It was a small shopping district, all pedestrian walkways and local establishments, not fairly common anymore with the rise of larger malls. This meant the stores often knew and supported each other for solidarity, and that it wasn’t odd for people from other stores to pop in and introduce themselves.

That being said, it’s been a week since the new girl had started shifts and Gigi still hasn’t worked up the courage to talk to her. She’s only caught glimpses of her, either walking out with Crystal after locking up or stepping out in the middle of the day for a smoke break. Gigi knew of them needing a replacement after Dahlia had moved coasts, but she remembers how when actually seeing her in person for the first time her breath completely hitched in her throat and she had to run to the break room to hide for a bit.

Luckily for Gigi, unluckily for her work still left unattended, the walkways meant not a considerable distance between the two storefronts and she’s immediately able to catch a glimpse of the mystery girl inside leaning against the front desk. She can visibly see her short, slicked back platinum hair looking as pristine as always, and today she’s got on a red lip that looks so, so good. She barely knows anything about her, doesn’t even know her name, but by god would it be a lie to say she isn’t pretty enamoured.

Crystal’s obviously her coworker, but no amount of pleading texts will yield her any information. Jaida’s spoken to her already on her own but also refuses to tell Gigi anything, apparently because she thinks Gigi’s refusal to go alone is funny, other than that she’s French and hotter up close and that her accent was “delicious” which was incredibly not helpful. Gigi contemplates how this accent might sound when instead it’s her boss’s voice that suddenly appears next to her.

“She is pretty hot. I think I have a crush on her too.” Jackie says plainly into Gigi’s ear.

Gigi yelps and jumps again for the second time this morning, this time a lot more embarrassed thanks to being caught by her boss not only clearly slacking off but openly staring at the store opposite. And that she can’t even cover up Jackie knowing exactly why she was staring.

Jackie just laughs good naturedly and shoves an iced coffee into Gigi’s hands, holding another two against her chest.

“I was on the way when Jaida texted me saying she drank yours and to pick you up another one, so I got some for all of us. Something about you needing the caffeine, and I can see why,” she looks out the window to Harmonize, then back at Gigi, “finish those orders first, yeah?” She smiles knowingly at the younger girl, then heads to the back room where Jaida is probably counting stock.

Jesus christ, she was too preoccupied with her own thoughts she didn’t even hear Jackie come in. Their door has a fucking bell and she was standing right beside the front window. Well, nothing like a mountain of work and some fresh iced coffee to shake off a morning of embarrassment.

All things considered, Gigi loves her job. It’s something sacred to her, something guaranteed to ground her, soothing her senses and pulling her into a focused zone like nothing else. She loves the feeling of stems in her hands, watching an empty vase or paper wrap build into a living work of art that tells a story. She was never that big on plants as a whole, Jaida and Jackie tend to cover the succulent houseplant and herb territory better than she ever could, but she’s always had a soft spot for the flowers. She’s built up her craft and made a niche for herself in Wallflower very quickly, there’s nothing more enticing to her than mixing and matching colors, textures, shapes and sizes until her perfectionist ass is satisfied with the outcome. She always jokes that none of her work comes out short of instagram perfect, well worth more than just their price. She’s even taken to studying up on old flower meanings in her spare time, and while she thought they were silly at first she did grow a little attached to the convolutedness and intricacy that goes into working meanings into her arrangements.

She’s got a couple of standard bouquets up first- Wallflower provides a ‘cheat sheet’ of pre-determined arrangements for customers not particularly picky or familiar with what goes into their bouquets. She holds a sunflower in the center of the vase to build upon, surrounding it with a smattering of simple pink and red roses. She fills the shape with baby’s breath and green heather for texture, before filling whatever gaps are left with myrtle sprigs for more greenery.

She goes over the meanings in her head while she ties off and trims the stems and decoratively wraps the arrangement in delicate, pink paper and clear cellophane- adoration, happiness, love, innocence, admiration, love. It’s incredible to her how many flowers basically mean the same thing, but she supposes it’s hard to offer something as beautiful as a flower and not convey some form of affection.

She’s a couple of arrangements in before her phone buzzes in her back pocket, pulling her out of her groove. She wipes her hands down her apron and pulls it out to see a groupchat message from Crystal.

Clown Whore 🤡👅 just got off a client but LMFAO totally saw u staring @ N u aint slick @Gigi Goode

Gigi can’t help but widen her eyes a little and type her reply back a little frantic.

Goode, Gooder, Goodenest Gracious! 🌼 her name starts with N????? Nina? Natalie? Naomi? is Naomi french enough to count as a valid guess?

Clown Whore 🤡👅 LOL u know we aint tellin u its been a week. JUST TALK TO HER U DUMB ASS LESBIAN

Goode, Gooder, Goodenest Gracious! 🌼 :( ya’ll are mean. why are you my friends. Michelle’s for lunch? @Jaida @Crystal

shoulders & attitude (and not much else) 🌵🌵 lol im down

Clown Whore 🤡👅 breaks in 30. come to yall then :))

Gigi takes note of the time and puts her phone down sighing. She loves her friends with all her heart, but they’re also assholes whose favorite hobby is bullying poor Gigi especially when it comes to Gigi’s ability, or lack thereof, to deal with cute girls. Still, she wouldn’t trade the world for them (not that she would ever say that to their faces, she has some pride).

She continues her arrangements, hitting a snag on a particular one that for some reason requested a fairly large centerpiece, “all whites, minimal greenery- romantic but no roses” but at the same time “nothing too funeral-y or wedding-y”. She’s built and torn apart the arrangement around 6 times and is close to ripping her hair out when Jaida materializes in front of her station.

“You good, sis?” she laughs, picking up the order slip to examine herself.

Gigi looks around and realizes her station looks a hot mess, whites and greens strewn haphazardly everywhere. “Yes, you’re looking at my personal funeral. We good to go?”

“Yeah, ‘bout that. Crys texted that she’s gonna take a smoke for a bit and I’m gonna join her, is it alright if you go ahead? We’ll catch up, it’s all on me” Jaida says cheerily, handing Gigi her card.

Gigi raises her eyebrows in suspicion, idly wondering why Crystal didn’t just message their chat, but takes the card anyway. She’s not passing up free lunch. “Sure, the usual for everyone?”

“Yep, see ya in a bit, girl!” Jaida waves brightly, already on her way out the door.

Weird. But Gigi doesn’t think much of it.

The walk over to Michelle’s is short and uneventful, only being about 2 blocks away, but the small local joint is by far their favorite go-to. It’s arguably a diner, complete with the red leather booths and black and white tiled flooring to match, but it’s become a local staple in the district for being so much more than just a diner. They’ve got a wide variety of comfort foods of all types, plus it’s got halal options for Jackie and vegetarian ones for Crystal. Gigi walks in to the sound of the bell above the push glass door and is immediately greeted by not only the rich smells from the kitchen, but the owner Michelle at the counter. A matronly figure with a heart of gold, she’s made sure to know all of the district regulars by name and face and the girls at Harmonize and Wallflower are no exception. It’s a little past lunch rush, lots of people sitting at the booths and the counter but no one in line.

She greets Gigi as she enters and Gigi’s listing off the usuals for everyone, takeout for Widow and Jackie, when a husky voice pipes up from behind her.

“Oh, actually, Jaida said takeout for everyone. And an additional ceaser, s'il vous plaît.”

Gigi whips around, heart leaping out of her chest, and finds N smiling right behind her. Gigi stammers a bit, definitely fumbling for something to say, and tries her best to get her bearings. “Ohmigod, hi! Shit, hi! Gigi, from Wallflower,” she says quickly, nerves evident, “I haven’t met you yet! Oh my god, you’re N-?”

The blonde just laughs politely to cut her off, perhaps to save her from her fumbling. “Nicolette, but please call me Nicky. Crystal sent me over, says her and Jaida can’t make it and to bring everything back?” Nicky smiles wide, and her smile makes Gigi think her heart is stopping a little too many times today.

Gigi crumples a little in realization. Of course Jaida would offer to pay for everything, she wouldn’t bother unless it came alongside personally torturing Gigi for fun. Well, nevertheless, it’s not like Jaida can avoid payback. Gigi asks Michelle to upsize everyone’s drinks but Jaida and Crystal’s and adds an extra side of ice cream to her own. Michelle swipes Jaida’s card, hands Gigi her small cup of ice cream, then lets them know to sit at a booth while they fix up everyone’s orders.

Nicky and Gigi sit at the booth nearest the door, and Gigi’s glad for the cup of ice cream to keep her busy because her brain’s running in circles trying to think of something to say while also subtly trying to finally get a good look at her. As Nicky settles into the seat opposite, turning to lay her purse next to her, Gigi can’t help but eye some design on her arms before it’s covered once more by the long sleeves of her blouse. Her platinum blonde hair’s slicked back into a short length, now she realizes it goes a little past her chin, and her makeup is impeccable, sharp smokey eyes and red lips. She’s even more gorgeous up close, and it does absolutely nothing to settle Gigi’s nerves. Gigi’s hands fidget with her small plastic spoon, and she’s hyper aware of how she’s now looking anywhere but the girl sitting across her. Thankfully, Nicky leads the conversation.

“I am sorry it’s taken us so long to meet, I have been having a little bit of a hard time putting myself out there” she says with a drop to her voice, and Gigi instantly feels guilty.

“No, no it’s my fault! I should’ve gone over, I had the chance I’m just,” Gigi breathes when she realizes she’s sped up again, and Nicky’s looking right at her earnestly, “-pretty bad at meeting new people.” She drops Nicky’s gaze and rubs the back of her neck, staring directly down into her ice cream. She realizes she’s coming on very weirdly, and she feels very hot all of a sudden. Stupid Crystal, stupid Jaida, this is exactly why she can’t be trusted alone with a pretty girl. Either Nicky doesn’t realize or realize exactly, either way Gigi’s glad she doesn’t bring up how awkward Gigi’s acting.

“Well, no matter,” she interrupts Gigi’s thoughts with a smile, “I’m glad to have met you now. I heard you were the one who had done the arrangement Jackie brought me on my first day, thank you, it was quite beautiful.”

Gigi softens. “Oh, it was my pleasure! Again, I’m really sorry I hadn’t come along to meet you sooner.”

Nicky waves her off, “Please, stop apologizing, it’s alright, we were both busy. Let’s move forward now, yeah?” She smiles brightly again, and it eases Gigi’s heart in a way she could not explain, nor does she want to confront any time soon. But for now, this is nice.

Gigi smiles back and opens her mouth to respond, when Nicky’s phone suddenly rings from her purse. Nicky quickly swipes it out to check the screen.

“Oh, one moment, it’s a client, I’m so sorry” she says, standing up and stepping out of the booth. Gigi tells her no worries as Nicky steps out of the diner to take the call.

Gigi uses this opportunity to breathe, at the same time finishing her melting ice cream and checking her own phone. She’s got a string of messages, all from the culprits.

shoulders & attitude (and not much else) 🌵🌵 LOL

Clown Whore 🤡👅 GO GIGI!!!!!!

shoulders & attitude (and not much else) 🌵🌵 USE YOUR WORDS BOO ure killin it!!!

Clown Whore 🤡👅 what did we say about the accent? :))) plus isnt she so nice shes a whole ass sweetheart

shoulders & attitude (and not much else) 🌵🌵 omg ice cream u bitch k we deserve it

Clown Whore 🤡👅 oooo yall look like youre on a date already :))

shoulders & attitude (and not much else) 🌵🌵 wtf who callin? she got a man?

Goode, Gooder, Goodenest Gracious! 🌼 YO WTF FUCK YALL WHAT WAS THAT :((( WARN ME, ASSHOLES? I WASNT READY also are you here?? how do you know???

Clown Whore 🤡👅 michelle’s texting us LMAO

Gigi whips her head up to see Michelle at the counter across the diner, phone in hand, typing away. She meets Gigi’s eyes and sends her a wink, laughing mirthfully.

Goode, Gooder, Goodenest Gracious! 🌼 is my whole life snitches and traitors???

Clown Whore 🤡👅 💖💖

shoulders & attitude (and not much else) 🌵🌵 💛💛💛💛

At this point Michelle comes around to the table and carefully sets down the stacks of takeout containers bundled in two plastic bags, but not without patting Gigi on the back and whispering you got this darling. Gigi just groans in exasperation.

Clearly, everyone has it out for her in this life. But she decides that hey, maybe that’s not so bad. They’re her friends and her friends care and they bully her a little but that’s what friends are for. Care enough to call her out on her stupidity and force her to act. What exactly she’s acting on, she’s not quite sure, but things are certainly happening. And she’s finally met Nicky, who is intimidatingly gorgeous but also kind and nice and she’s happy for that. Sure, she’s extremely attractive, but part of her doesn’t even remember why she was so afraid to talk to her in the first place when her presence now seems to both scare and ease Gigi in a way she really can’t name. And while she may not really understand all that she’s feeling maybe, just maybe, that’s okay too.

Nicky steps back into the diner and turns back to Gigi, eyes bright and smile wide.

“Let’s get back to the shops?” she says cheerily, and sticks out her hand for Gigi to hold.

Gigi takes a deep breath, smiles, and takes it. “Yes, let’s.”

[hope-for-olicity]

I have been thinking, like so many people this week, about rage. Who I’m mad at, what that anger’s good for, how what makes me maddest is the way the madness has long gone unrespected, even by those who have relied on it for their gains.

For as long as I have been a cogent adult, and actually before that, I have watched people devote their lives, their furious energies, to fighting against the steady, merciless, punitive erosion of reproductive rights. And I have watched as politicians — not just on the right, but members of my own party — and the writers and pundits who cover them, treat reproductive rights and justice advocates as if they were fantasists enacting dystopian fiction.

This week, the most aggressive abortion bans since Roe v. Wade swept through states, explicitly designed to challenge and ultimately reverse Roe at the Supreme Court level. With them has come the dawning of a broad realization — a clear, bright, detailed vision of what’s at stake, and what’s ahead. (If not, yet, full comprehension of the harm that has already been done).

As it comes into view, I am of course livid at the Republican Party that has been working toward this for decades. These right-wing ghouls — who fulminate idiotically about how women could still be allowed to get abortions before they know they are pregnant (Alabama’s Clyde Chambliss) or try to legislate the medically impossible removal of ectopic pregnancy and reimplantation into the uterus (Ohio’s John Becker) — are the stuff of unimaginably gothic horror. Ever since Roe was decided in 1973, conservatives have been laboring to roll back abortion access, with absolutely zero knowlege of or interest in how reproduction works. And all the while, those who have been trying to sound the alarm have been shooed off as silly hysterics.

Which is why I am almost as mad at many on the left, theoretically on the side of reproductive rights and justice, who have refused, somehow, to see this coming or act aggressively to forestall it. I have no small amount of rage stored for those in the Democratic Party who have relied on the engaged fury of voters committed to reproductive autonomy to elect them, at the same time that they have treated the efforts of activists trying to stave off this future as inconvenient irritants.

This includes, of course, the Democrats (notably Joe Biden) who long supported the Hyde Amendment, the legislative rider that has barred the use of federal insurance programs from paying for abortion, making reproductive health care inaccessible to poor women since 1976. During health-care reform, Barack Obama referred to Hyde as a “tradition” and questions of abortion access as “a distraction.” I’ve spent my life listening to Democrats call abortion a niche issue — and worse, one that is somehow repellent to voters, even though support for Roe is in fact among the most broadly popular positions of the Democratic Party; seven in ten Americans want abortion to remain legal, even in conservative states.

You can try to tell these Democrats this — lots of people have been trying to tell them for a while now — but it won’t matter; they will only explain to you (a furious person) that they (calm, wise, knowledgeable about politics) understand that we need a big tent and can’t have a litmus test and please be reasonable: we shouldn’t shut anyone out because of a difference on one issue. (That one issue that we shouldn’t shut people out because of is always abortion). Every single time Democrats come up with a new strategy to win purple and red areas, it is the same strategy: hey, let’s jettison abortion! (If you object to this, you will be told you are standing in the way of the greater progressive project).

I grew up in Pennsylvania, governed by anti-abortion Democrat Bob Casey Sr.; his son Bob Jr. is Pennsylvania’s senior senator now, and though he’s getting better on abortion, Jr. voted, in 2015 and 2018, for 20-week abortion bans. Maybe my rage stems from being raised with this particularly grim perspective on Democratic politics: dynasties of white men united in their dedication to restricting women’s bodily autonomy, but they’re Democrats so who else are you going to vote for? Which reminds me of Dan Lipinski, the virulently anti-abortion Democratic congressman — whose anti-abortion dad held his seat before him. The current DCCC leader, Cheri Bustos, is holding a big-dollar fundraiser for Lipinski’s reelection campaign, even though it’s 2019 and abortion is being banned and providers threatened with more jail time than rapists and there is someone else to vote for: Lipinski is being challenged in a primary by pro-choice progressive Democrat Marie Newman. And still, Bustos, a powerful woman and Democratic leader, is helping anti-choice Lipinski keep his seat for an eighth term. So I’ve been thinking about that part of my anger too.

Also about how, for years, I’ve listened to Democratic politicians distance themselves from abortion by calling it tragic and insisting it should be rare, instead of simply acknowledging it to be a crucial, legal cornerstone of comprehensive health care for women, people with uteruses, and their families. I have seethed as generations of Democrats have argued that if we could just get past abortion and focus instead on economic issues, we’d be better off. They never seem to get that abortion is an economic issue, and that what they think of as economic issues — from wages and health care to housing and education policy — are at the very heart of the reproductive justice movement, which understands access to abortion to be one (pivotal!) part of a far broader set of circumstances that determine if, when, under what circumstances, and with what resources human beings might have and raise children.

And no, of course it’s not just Democrats I’m mad at. It’s the pundits who approach abortion law as armchair coaches. I can’t do better in my fury on this front than the legal writer Scott Lemieux, who in 2007 wrote ablistering rundown of all the legal and political wags, including Ben Wittes and Jeffrey Rosen and Richard Cohen and William Saletan, then making arguments, some too cute by half, about how Roe was ultimately bad for abortion rights and for Democrats. Some like to cite an oft-distorted opinion put forth by Ruth Bader Ginsburg, who has said that she wished the basis on which Roe was decided had included a more robust defense of women’s equality. Retroactive strategic chin-stroking about Roe is mostly moot, given the decades of intervening cases and that the fight against abortion is not about process but about the conviction that women should not control their own reproduction. It is also true that Ginsburg has been doing the work of aggressively defending reproductive rights for decades, while these pundits have treated them as a parlor game. As Lemieux put it then, it was unsurprising, “given the extent to which affluent men safely ensconced in liberal urban centers dominate the liberal pundit class,” that the arguments put forth, “greatly understate or ignore the stark class and geographic inequites in abortion access that would inevitably manifest themselves in a post-Roe world.”

Or, for that matter, that had already manifested themselves in a Roe world.

Because long before these new bans — which will meet years of legal challenge before they are enacted — abortion had grown ever less accessible to segments of America, though not the segments that the affluent men (and women) who write about and practice politics tend to emerge from. But yes, thanks to Hyde and the TRAP laws and the closed clinics and the long travel distances and paucity of providers and the economically untenable waiting periods, legions of women have already suffered, died, had children against their will, while columnists and political consultants have bantered about the necessity of Roe, and litmus tests and big tents. In vast portions of this country, Roe might as well not exist already.

And still those who are mad about, have been driven mad by, these injustices have been told that their fury is baseless, fictional, made of chewing gum and recycled copies of Our Bodies Ourselves. Last summer, the day before Anthony Kennedy announced his resignation from the Supreme Court, CNN host Brian Stelter tweeted, in response to a liberal activist, “We are not ‘a few steps from The Handmaids’ Tale.’ I don’t think this kind of fear-mongering helps anybody.” When protesters shouted at Brett Kavanaugh’s confirmation hearings a few weeks later, knowing full well what was about to happen and what it portended for Roe, Senator Ben Sasse condescended and lied to them, claiming that there have been “screaming protesters saying ‘women are going to die’ at every hearing for decades” and suggesting that this response was a form of “hysteria.”

It was the kind of dishonesty — issued from on high, from one of those Republicans who has inexplicably earned a reputation for being “reasonable” and “smart,” and who has enormous power over our future — that makes you want to pull the hair from your head and go screaming through the streets except someone would just tell you you were being hysterical.

And so here we are, the thing is happening and no one can pretend otherwise; it is not a game or a drill and those for whom the consequences — long real for millions whose warnings and peril have gone unheeded — are only now coming into focus want to know: what can be done?

First, never again let anyone tell you that the fury or determination to fight on this account is invalid, inappropriate, or inconvenient to a broader message. Consider that this is also what women and marginalized people are told all the time about their anger in general: that they should not express it, not let it out, because to give voice to their rage will distract from their aims, undermine them; that it will ultimately be bad for them. This messaging is strategic. It is designed to get angry people to keep their mouths shut. Because if they are successfully stifled, they will remain at the margins, isolated, alone in their fury. It is only if they start letting it out and acting on it and working in tandem with others who share their outrage that they might begin to form networks, coalitions, the building blocks of movements; it is when the anger is let loose that the organizing happens in earnest.

Second, seek the organizing that is already underway. In the days since this new round of state abortion bans have begun to pass and make headlines, secret Facebook groups have begun to form, in which freshly furious women have begun to talk of forming networks that would help patients evade barriers to access. Yet these organizations already exist, are founded and run by women of color, have long been transporting those in need of reproductive care to the facilities where they can get it; they are woefully underfunded. The trick is not to start something new, but to join forces with those who have long been angry about reproductive injustice.

“Abortion funds have been sounding the alarm for decades,” said Yamani Hernandez, who runs the National Network or Abortion Funds, which includes 76 local funds in 41 states, each of them helping women who face barriers getting the abortion care they need, offering money, transportation, housing, and help with logistics. Only 29 of the funds have paid staff; the rest are volunteer-run and led with average budget sizes of $75,000, according to Hernandez, who said that in 2017, 150,000 people called abortion funds for help — a number up from 100,000 in 2015, thanks to the barrage of restrictions that have made it so much harder for so many more people. With just $4 million to work with, the funds were able to help 29,000 of them last year: giving abortion funds money and time will directly help people who need it. Distinguishing the work of abortion funds from the policy fights in state houses and at the capitols, Hernandez said, “whatever happens in Washington, and changes in the future, women need to get care today.”

And whatever comes next, she said, it’s the people who have been doing this work for years who are likely to be best prepared to deal with the harm inflicted, which is a good place for the newly enraged to start. “If and when Roe is abolished,” said Hernandez, “the people who are going to be getting people to the care they need are those who have largely been navigating this already and are already well suited for the logistical challenges.”

The fights on the ground might be the most current and urgent in human terms, but there is also energy to be put into policy fights. In 2015, California Congresswoman Barbara Lee authored the EACH Woman Act, the first serious congressional challenge to the Hyde Amendment, which came after years of agitation and activism, especially by All Above All, a grassroots organization led by women of color and determined to make abortion accessible to everyone. Those who are looking for policy fights to lean into can call and write your representatives and candidates and demand that they support the EACH Woman Act.

Rage works. It takes time and numbers and a willingness to express it, but it is among the most reliable catalysts of social and political change. That’s the story of how grassroots activism can compel Barbara Lee to compel her caucus to take on Hyde. Her willingness to tackle it, and the righteous outrage of those who are driven to end the harm it does to poor women and women of color, in turn helped to compel Hillary Clinton to come out against Hyde in her 2016 primary campaign; opposition to Hyde is now — for the first time since it was passed in 1976 — a part of the Democratic Party’s platform.

In these past two years, fury at a Trump administration and at the Republican Party has driven electoral activism. And at the end of 2018, the Guttmacher Institute reported that 2018 was the first year since at least 2000 in which the number of state policies enacted to expand or protectabortion rights and access, and contraceptive access, outnumbered the number of state restrictions. Why? Because growing realization of what was at stake — and resulting anger and activism, pressure applied to state legislatures — led representatives to act.

Of course: vote.

Vote, as they say, as if your life depended on it, because it does, but more importantly: other people’s lives depend on it. And between voting, consider where to aim your anger in ways that will influence election outcomes: educate yourself about local races and policy proposals, as well as the history of the reproductive rights and reproductive-justice movements. Get engaged not just on a presidential level — please God, not just at a presidential level — but with the fights for state legislative power, in congressional and senate elections, all of which shape abortion policy and the judiciary, and the voting rights on which every other kind of freedom hinges. Knock doors, register voters, give to and volunteer with the organizations that are working to fightvoter suppression and redistricting and expand the electorate; as well as to those recruiting and training progressive candidates, especially women and women of color, especially young and first-time candidates, to run for elected office.

You can also protest, go to rallies. Join a local political group where your rage will likely be shared with others.

Above all, do not let defeat or despair take you, and do not let anyone tell you that your anger is misplaced or silly or in vain, or that it is anything other than urgent and motivating. It may be terrifying — it is terrifying. But this — the fury and the fight it must fuel — is going to last the rest of our lives and we must get comfortable using our rage as central to the work ahead.

[southboundhqarchive]

MEET ADELINE,

FULL NAME › Adeline Ziyi Mercier AGE › twenty nine GENDER › Cis woman (She/Her/Hers) FROM › Guangzhou, China RESIDENCE › Desert Willow Apartment Complex (Downtown) OCCUPATION › Owner of the Olive Branch Bar NOW PLAYING › The Show by Lenka

BIOGRAPHY,

trigger warnings: implied racism, internalized racism, bullying, death

i. the first thing anyone will tell you about ethan and therese mercier is that they are good christians. church every sunday, bible study, scriptures framed on their wall christians. they can’t conceive a child of their own, but their sorrow gives way to purpose: this is all part of god’s plan. they are meant to give an unfortunate child a better life. a few trips to china and some paperwork filed later, the merciers bring a beautiful baby girl out of the orphanage and christen her adeline. it’s the american dream!

on their search for the perfect place to raise a child, they settle on the picturesque town of boot hill, arizona. it’s safe, secluded, and the desert has some charm, and when adeline turns two, they move into a one-story house with a garden. adeline is given dresses and books and toys; she is showered in love; she wants for nothing, and should want for nothing. they raise her as an all-american girl without much thought to her chinese heritage—well, there’s a chinese restaurant just a short drive away—but they do not know that will cause her to lose pieces of herself.

it is in elementary school when someone first asks her why don’t you look like your mom? it’s easy to stick out in town when you’re one of the only asian kids, and her crueler classmates mock the shape of her eyes and call her names. they never let her forget she’s different, that she doesn’t belong, and when she comes home crying, her mother soothes her and tells her to ignore them. be stronger than them. be the bigger person. it’s easy to say that when you’re used to being the majority, but every time adeline looks in the mirror, she is reminded she is not. if she wishes hard enough, will her eyes turn blue and her hair turn blonde?

but there are no fairy godmothers in boot hill. there is only a lonely girl, the fractures of her identity, and the desire for acceptance.

ii. if she will fit in with no one, then she will fit in with everyone. in high school, she flits between groups with ease, earning trust with a guileless smile and a warm demeanor. she’s a cheerleader, a pianist, student council vice president, and everyone loves her—or if they don’t, they pretend to. elementary school taunts become snide remarks in the bathroom. she acts like she’s better than us, who does she think she is? teenagers ( and adults! ) are particularly venomous when fed with the prejudices of their small world. you’re so exotic. how much do you cost? go back home. you don’t belong here. but adeline holds her head high because that is she what she’s been taught, plays the role everyone from her parents to her friends to her teachers want her to. she is so honest, so compassionate, you can’t help but tell her everything. soon, she is carrying not only the secrets of heart but the secrets of her peers too, and it is more than she ever wanted to hold. ( this is what she has learned about people: they want to be listened to. they want to be heard. but who is listening to her? )

the dissonance of the two halves of her identity, american and chinese, never quite goes away, but she shoves it down in favor of hanging out with friends at cheri’s dairy and going on dates at the drive-in. still, try as she might, she can’t ignore her curiosity. the older she gets, the more questions she has, and the desire to reconnect with the country she only knows as her birthplace grows with each year. they’ve already been to the jade flower, which adeline chooses every year for her birthday, though surely there’s more to being chinese than chow mein and general tso’s chicken. but there are no chinese schools in boot hill, no chinese new year celebrations like in san francisco, and her parents are terribly vague about answering questions about where she came from. they think she shouldn’t wonder too much, that she should be happy with what she has in the united states, with them. you’re much better off here, adeline.

iii. boot hill girls don’t go to college and they certainly don’t go to ivy leagues, but adeline mercier has always something of an anomaly. being valedictorian of her high school class, on the student council, and an avid volunteer with a sympathetic story of searching for herself in a sea of faces that don’t look like her gets her a spot at columbia. her parents couldn’t be prouder; this is what they brought her to this country for.

college is the first time in her life she’s seen so many other asians, and it feels like a piece has finally clicked into place but just not quite. the edge slips with the truth: she can’t relate. she doesn’t have them same upbringing as those who grew up in asian families and communities, doesn’t share the same inside jokes or the same struggles. this disconnect leads her to seek out other adoptees in new york, and with them, she finally can name the isolation deep in her bones, that feeling of being in two worlds yet feeling at home in neither. she can finally admit that while her parents tried, they didn’t try hard enough. during her time at columbia, she tries to look for her biological mother the merciers gave her no clues for, but her search turns up next to nothing. she tries not to be too disappointed; it’s just another gaping hole in her heart she can’t fill, just another series of unanswered questions. what’s new?

unused to the academic rigor of her classes, she nearly fails her first year. though she’s always been an intelligent girl—all a’s, model student, overachiever—, high school in boot hill was nothing compared to columbia. with the help of tutors and too many late nights, she manages to bring her grades back up, but it’s a constant uphill battle. frankly, boot hill didn’t prepare her for anything in new york—not the traffic, the subway, not the people. it’s a cliche, a small town girl moving to a big city and feeling completely lost, but god, it’s true. in boot hill, she was a shining star. at columbia, she’s simply another glimmer in a galaxy.

it’s comforting to be lost in the crowd, though, to no longer stick out because she’s different. here, in new york, she can be anyone. in new york, she blends right in. new york is terrifying but exhilarating, and she never wants to leave.

iv. life has a way of forcing your hand to play the cards you don’t want to be dealt. she’d been planning to stay in new york after graduation, but a whirlwind of events sends her back to boot hill, beginning with a positive pregnancy test and ends with death knocking at her door. when her boyfriend of two years learns she’s pregnant, he says everything will be okay, we’ll make it work, we can do anything as long as we’re together.

it’s a touching sentiment, but wishes don’t come true no matter how many stars you wish on and lovers can’t come home when they’re left bleeding in an alley. she finds out later that there was nothing that could be done and she’s left with too many questions and too little answers. rather than stay alone in city that’s growing far too cold for a young woman who grew up under the arizona sun, she returns to that small town off route 66. there, she will be safe. there, she will not worry. there, the jaws of the world will not snap her or her baby in two.

( and for all her parents’ faults, they will always be there to welcome her home. )

v. there are rumors, as there always are, whispers flying around about who the father is, what she’s running from. pretty, polished, tarnished. her mother’s friends sigh about her wasted potential ( what a poor girl! ) like being a single mother has cracked her porcelain facade. not so perfect anymore, quip snide high school acquaintances, the ones who thought she acted as if she was too good for them. how satisfying is it to see not even adeline mercier can escape boot hill? she should’ve known those who try to leave never really can.

but a month passes, and another month, and the rumor mill moves on. with the influx of newcomers coming into boot hill, there’s enough to gossip enough to keep the town sustained that it becomes like she never left ( which is to say, she still feels slightly out of place, like a puzzle piece that doesn’t quite fit ). she easily falls into a routine: she gets a job as a waitress at the schoolhouse cafe, her parents take care of raphael while she’s at work, and she saves up all her money so she can, at least, make something out of herself here.

with the knowledge gained from university and an investment from her parents, she opens the olive branch bar as a homage to her favorite haunts in nyc the summer she turns 26. it pales in comparison to the low-lit lounges of the city she could have called home, but boot hill locals don’t know that. all they see is something new, a change of pace from the bucking horse or coyote’s howl. she’s not looking to replace them—everyone knows you can’t—but simply filling a niche that hasn’t been realized until now. business is slow at first, then suddenly, it skyrockets, both newcomers and locals looking for a taste of sophistication pulled in by the wine list, handcrafted cocktails, and jazzy ambiance.

yet it is a difficult thing to be a bird whose wings have soared only to have them clipped again. when once she might have thought she would’ve worked in skyscrapers and changed even a fraction of the world, her ambitions have been cut in half by circumstance. she’s as successful as one can be in this town with a thriving bar and a wonderful, growing boy, but oh, how she yearns for the world she had a glimpse of.

it’s a shame she’ll never see it again.

❝ if she spoke, she would tell him the truth: she was not okay at all, but horribly empty, now that she knew what it was like to be filled. ❞

CENSUS,

FACECLAIM › Gemma Chan AUTHOR › Izzie