wait im sorry. ive never read past the first book of dotc and all my knowledge of it really just comes from your blogs. wh. why did the erins decide to include sexual violence in warriors? like. that seems a little. too much? like all im hearing of dotc is just. terrible shit. i like reading more angst/serious stuff (i wanna say darker but not in the way "dark media" usually means on this site) but this feels like WAYYY to much for a book series meant for kids....... what were they thinking??
I legitimately do not understand what people like about DOTC. You can go back to where I started this re-read, and you can visibly watch my charitability drain as the project goes on.
It feels like literally everything that people say they like about this arc is not there, while they've completely forgotten or misremembered SERIOUSLY awful shit
And now, listen. I'm a huge fan of xenofiction, which is a genre that is full of kid's and teen's media, but I do love more adult fiction. I love nuanced themes, dark subjects, and complicated plots.
DOTC's message is just plain odious. None of what it sets out to say is worth saying, and it's borderline incompetent at even saying it to begin with.
What they want to say with Clear Sky and Slash is that Clear Sky isn't "evil." He's a "fundamentally good person," and all of his intentions were good, so he learned a valuable lesson from all the abuse and murder. To say this, they CONTRAST him to Slash, a REAL evil person, who just loves hurting kids and harassing women. Clear Sky is good because he is not "real evil" like this fake, cartoon caricature we just made up.
There was absolutely zero need for them to write Slash the way they did. They really want you to be distressed for Clear Sky as his wife is assaulted in front of him and hauled off while kicking and screaming, and they decided the best way to do that was pregnant woman pinning face licking. Sexual violence is an easy way to disgust and anger an audience, simple as that.
As a kid you may not realize how messed up it is (though the asks I get on this blog are a testament to how many kids did, but didn't have the words to express their discomfort) but as an adult with your critical thinking on? It hits different.
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y’all just— thinking about how excited Stanley must have been to host the twins— Alex says he smokes cigars but he doesn’t smoke once in the show— has a beer gut but he only drinks sodas in front of the kids— doesn’t swear when they’re around which must have taken INCREDIBLE effort— Stanley Pines, known crook, buying pancake mix at the supermarket and many bottles of syrup— learning to cook basic healthy meals and burning so many of them before he gets it right— buying new sheets, new mattresses— avoiding bunk beds because it reminds him of Ford— looking at the attic room he made wondering “is this enough will they like me”— trying to act aloof at the bus stop so he doesn’t betray the fact that he was there hours early— watching them goof around and thinking of New Jersey beaches— then the first night they’re there, he watches them debate running away and only stay because Mabel shook a magic 8 ball. That must have kept him awake all night.
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I was hanging out at the karaoke bar, chatting with a beautiful woman, and we were really hitting it off. I threw a couple of flirtatious comments her way. She giggled nervously, but abruptly stopped and looked at the floor.
She told me that she was too nervous to hit on people because she's trans and worries that people will view her as a predator and that she might get hurt.
My heart sank. I let her know that she could hit on me in whatever way she wanted and I would LOVE it. We spent the rest of the night hanging out and flirting. We ended up making out. It was great.
But I can't stop thinking about how that wasn't the first time a trans woman has said that to me. About how unsafe it is for some women that they feel the need to give out fucking disclaimers to have normal interactions with people.
We have GOT to make the world a safer place for trans women. It pisses me off that there are men at the bar who are openly predatory towards me without fear of consequence, yet a trans woman is too scared to even fucking call me pretty. And that's because she IS more likely to face worse consequences for lesser things! Like what the fuck!
You need to always check on your internalized biases. Being queer yourself doesn't absolve you of transmisogynistic thoughts and behaviors. Being bi/pansexual doesn't mean you don't hold those biases either! If you feel differently about a trans woman hitting on you than you feel about a cis woman or a man hitting on you, you need to evaluate that.
Trans women, I love you so fucking much. You should be able to express attraction and love as freely as everyone else. I hope you can always feel safe around me. And I'll never stop fighting until you can feel safe period.
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"I need to find my darling husband!" Said Danny, dressed to the nines in a very elaborate royal dress with a lot of jewelry running through the ballroom after having been on the opposite end of a very worrying phone call.
"Seriously, what do you even see in that mortal!?" Screamed an observant and Danny stopped and leveled them with a glare cold enough to freeze over an active volcano and sharp enough to cut through obsidian.
"He makes me laugh."
Unlike those dead suitors went unsaid, but everyone at the ball (read: search for a bride/groom for the royal ghostling) practically heard it anyways.
Meanwhile over in the land of the living
Okay so Jason may have messed up. Now you see, he hasn't seen his platonic husband for tax benefits in a while, and he's been very careful to not let his identity as the Red Hood slip up before . Not even once in their relationship.
(He's not counting the time his in-laws sniffed him out as a Crime Lord, because Danny never believed them.)
Now, it wasn't exactly his fault he slipped up. You try to fight off an entire group after being pulled up on out of nowhere on the phone while trying to hide said noises of fighting.
Who was he calling? Danny of course since he said he was away for business. What business? Never specified and Jason wasn't going to pry.
So now here he was, bound 'helplessly' as Jason Todd along with a few other random civilians. Which, like, rude.
Wasn't he already good enough for this ancient ritual or whatever?
You know, he really should have walked with that "Anti-kidnapping device" he got that one time. Which honestly he feels like he should be surprised that such a thing exists but considering it was from Bruce. Well.
He's not surprised.
Oh, there's the Justice League now. Shame, he wanted to knock out a few guys himself- Oh, now he's being used to summon a ghost from the Infinite Realms of Royal Lineage.
Yea he probably should have walked with that "Anti-kidnapping device."
Wait a goddamn-
Is that-
"My darling husband!" Danny shouted, scooping him off the circle and away from the head cultist and swinging him around. "You had me worried sick!"
Now, he should ask the question anyone would in this situation when finding out your best friend and platonic husband for tax benefits was apparently a ghost of royal lineage.
"Why're you in a dress?"
"Okay, first of all I rock this thing." Danny huffed.
"That you do." Jason agreed rather easily.
"Second of all, blame those guys over there." He jerked his head in the direction of two very green floating eyeball people.
Not the weirdest he's seen, honestly.
The Observants were whispering to each other and leveling them-Jason in particular-a look.
"Now as you can see, I already have a spouse and I don't need another!" Danny hugged Jason closer for emphasis and he took the time to whisper in Danny's ear. "Did you really marry me to play the husband card?"
"Well, yes." Danny agreed. "But also because of taxes, because I love you and you're my best friend."
"So, we're still done for watching that movie right."
"Obviously."
A pained grunt came from below them and they both looked down to see Batman standing over a very unconscious cultist and looking up at them.
Hm.
He forgot they were there.
"So," Jason began, staring Bruce straight in the eyes. Batman's eyes narrowed. "Don't suppose we can push that forward to right now?"
"Yea, sure why not I'm not doing anything important." Danny leveled the Observants a look, and before either they, Batman, or the Justice League could do anything they both disappeared.
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he says i hate everyone except you and that is addictive and that is kind of romantic and beautiful because you're young and you're kind of a sarcastic asshole too and you don't like bad boys, per say, but you don't really like good ones either. and you like that you were the exception, it felt like winning.
except life is not a romance book, and he was kind of being honest. he doesn't learn to be nice to your friends. he only tolerates your family. you have to beg him to come with you to birthday parties, he complains the whole time. you want to go on a date but - people are often there, wherever you're going. he's just so angry. about everything, is the thing. in the romance book, doesn't he eventually soften? can't you teach him, through your own sense of whimsy and comfort?
at first - you know introverts often need smaller friend groups, and honestly, you're fine staying at home too. you like the small, tidy life you occupy. you're not going to punish him for his personality type.
except: he really does hate everyone but you. which means he doesn't get along with his therapist. which means he has no one to talk to except for you. which means you take care of him constantly, since he otherwise has no one. which means you sometimes have to apologize for him. which means he keeps you home from seeing your friends because he hates them. you're the single exception.
about a decade from this experience, you'll type into google: how to know if a relationship is codependent.
he wraps an arm around you. i hate everyone except you. these days, you're learning what he's actually confessing is i have very little practice being kind.
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You're watching a random movie with Mammon that turns out to have some horror elements in it. Neither of you knew this beforehand, you only skimmed the movie's description, but Mammon's not going to chicken out now. He needs to look cool in front of you. It's just a stupid movie. It's fine.
A minor jump scare halfway through the film leaves him rattled. He holds on to you tightly, quietly cursing how high quality the special effects are. It's fine, though. Really. It is.
He even offers to hold you if you're scared.
This gives Mammon an excuse to hide behind you. Perhaps this was his original aim. The two of you quickly work out a new seating arrangement on the couch. He moves you in front of him, encouraging you to lean back against him if there's not enough room to sit between his legs. You wonder how much of your head obscures the screen.
Several minutes pass in this state. You are having a very difficult time concentrating on the film. A certain someone has his arms wrapped around your chest like a flotation device.
"Hey, Mammon?" you whisper.
"Yeah?"
"It's really hard to watch the movie."
You feel him shift a little in the seat. He asks, "Wanna turn it off and do somethin' else?"
"No, can you just move your arms?"
Mammon grunts and makes no effort to even change position. There's a pause, as if he's thinking about it, before he sighs into your neck.
"No can do," he says. "Dunno what else this movie has in store, and I don't want your fragile little human heart givin' out on me if it gets worse."
Certainly, with the way his hands were gripping at you like a weak stress ball, Mammon could probably feel every pulse of your heartbeat.
"Okay, but this is a human movie. Made by humans. For humans." You really emphasize that last bit.
"Yeah, but we borrowed it from Satan. Who knows what kind of sick tastes he has?"
You laugh. The way your upper body briefly swells as you inhale and then shrinks back down as you laugh, and the way he can feel every shake when you exhale, makes Mammon's heart flutter.
"Come on. I can't even snack like this," you plead.
There was zero chance Mammon was letting you go after the treat you just gave him. His head is already in the clouds.
"How are you gonna watch the movie if you're busy snackin'?" he counters, as if either of you still had any idea what was happening on-screen.
"I just want to be able to breathe again. You're so greedy," you tell him. You would slump your shoulders in defeat if that were possible at all with Mammon clinging to your chest from behind.
"Damn right I am."
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I do think Blazing Saddles handled its one depiction of native americans very poorly, and the full extent of its representation of chinese workers on the railroad is they were literally just there. not even one single speaking line. unclear if this is worse or better than the redface.
it's fucking phenomenal at lampooning antiblack racism though. extremely blatant, extremely funny satire, which is constantly and loudly saying "racism is the philosophy of the terminally stupid at best and morally depraved at worst, and we should all be pointing and laughing at them 24/7"
plus the main character is a heroic black man who has to navigate a whole lot of bullshit but is constantly smirking at the extraordinarily stupid racists and inviting the audience into the joke. the one heroic white character is a guy who was suicidally depressed until he met the protagonist and they just instantly became buds, and he's firmly in a supporting role the whole time and happy to be there. the protagonist saves the day with the help of his black friends from the railroad, and uses the position of power he was given to uplift not only those friends, but all the railroad workers of other minorities too, in an explicit show of solidarity.
anyone saying "Blazing Saddles is racist" had better be talking about its treatment of non-black minorities. it had better not be such superficial takes as "oh but they say the n-word all the time" or "they have nazis and the kkk in there!" because goddamn if that's the full extent of your critique I very seriously suggest you read up on media analysis. there is too much going over your head, you need to learn to recognize satire.
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