#the more likely they are to insult themselves

[osakanone]

Speaking as someone with a traumatic brain injury, I'm not sure that PSAs alone will never be enough. I do have an idea, and I am curious about your thoughts.

If you want effective change you have to reach out to the people either do not remember PSAs or more likely, don't read PSAs, who think they are good people but are actually terrible in ways they cannot accept and thus cannot grow from -- who chase respectability as social clout instead of making babysteps needed to get things done.

So here it is:

Your alternatives don't work for sociolinguistic reasons

Your chosen word of interest is an adjective form of a verb.

R-word can be used easily, interchangably and with little effort when someone is stressed because every form of it is grammatically correct and socially incorrect, which is what is usually craved in an insult.

Language is an ecology: A space of predator words and prey words based on which words replace each in their fashionableness.

As with any ecology, there are niches: pockets of success where a need exists and a word slips into the gap to fill it.

In Europe we didn't get your word of interest until the mid 2000's, and it was occupied by a form of the word spastic (the medical condition) shortened to the slur "spaz" (which I've been on the recieving end of many times).

Consequences create martyrs and those seeking to differentiate themselves will adopt waning or discouraged language to differentiate themselves (PSA culture got us edgelord culture).

When a word goes out of popularity is when another word which is significantly cleverer takes its place, which is more biting and more cutting.

A great example is how "the slur beginning in F ending in T" in many progressive circles is front-loaded with the expectation of one word, and then instead people say "fascist" and everybody smiles.

It is one of the ways of controlling language:

You take the second-association added to an instrinsic thing eg, the "other" meaning of gay used on xbox live) and you attach it to something else

You outsource sentiment to a different target.

You retire one word, and inject another which better aligns with your sentiment and intentionality.

You MUST do this in a way which punches up instead of down, or you risk watering down the perception of a word -- and you must likewise be able to answer the question "how is that <other word>?" on the spot with a single sentence and shut down a conversation.

Back to this context, I genuinely use

"mentally redacted",

This replaced my previous go-to

"mentally retired",

which I felt licked of ageism and made me uncomfortable.

Meaning, that something was censored or removed or deleted intentionally. I make this about thoughtless intentionality of action, not intrinsic nature of a person or their situation or whatever has happened to them.

It shifts from medicalism to mentality.

The imperfectionism of it is the scar-tissue of culture as words fall out of favour.

Maybe that's not good enough for Americans? I don't know!

Does it just read of hiding the word and playing slight of hand instead? Does it have some third other reason? There's no good answer here, I feel.

But it makes me personally feel one hell of a lot better about my slowness instead of slipping up when talking about myself and throwing a slur at the person I'm talking to.

I'd genuinely like to know your thoughts!

e:

There's a great bit in the notes by op about how swearing disrupts civility; disruption is the only way to make any protest get noticed. I will say, a slur is often just a culturally acceptable swearword, which again is miserable. I hate to say it but we do need to get meaner if we're gonna survive. We do need to invent our own words about the people who oppress us that are robust descriptors with ride recognition.

e2:

I came very close to using dysthymic as an insult to describe "I need more" greedy "more lanes bro" VC/corpo-brain types before realizing good people would be caught in the cross-fire despite the fact dysthymia is one of the major medical roots of their behavior and damn that is a hard one for me to figure out. The great thing about medicine is it gives us lots of great complex descriptors that are easy to look up. The downside is when we use medicalization as a callout or attack there is always friendly fire. An oppressor will never care about friendly fire, which means we are always stuck playing defense and its fucking bullshit and makes me so mad.

e3:

I really wish there was a way to make words which disrupted civility without... disrupting... civility... okay that's a paradox. Fine, then are there words which can disrupt anti-civility? I want those.

e4:

Found one. The crushing response. "human pet guy"

Since the r-slur is making a comeback (you know, the word that starts with R, has six letters, and ends in D), I'm gonna make a little PSA:

Yes, it's an ableist slur.

Terms like "asshat," "head-up-ass," "up their own ass," and "high on their own farts" exist. There's also words like crap, dogshit, half-assed, assclown, and chucklefuck. And on the less vulgar side, there are terms like ridiculous, nonsense, train wreck, pointless, insipid, self-absorbed, pretentious, annoying, boring, contemptible, vile, and disgusting.

Substituting words like restarted, poptarted, brain damaged, smoothbrain, etc. is still ableist, because either 1. you obviously still mean the r-word, or 2. you're still using disability as an insult.

[rablovergirl]

exes jegulus who can never seem to truly break up. They keep falling back into each other no matter what.

they act like they hate each other, they fight like they hate each other, they fuck like they hate each other. It's all teeth clashing, no patience, rough scratches and bites and holy fuck the insults. They just can't seem to stop.

"You're fucking useless Potter, even Barty would fuck me better than this. Probably slept with a million ppl who fucked me better than this."

"Ya well maybe if you weren’t such a fucking whore we wouldn't have this problem."

Every time, they swear it's the last time, until they find themselves in the same place for more than five minutes and somehow end up going missing. Until people start hearing a persistent banging noise coming from upstairs, and then yelling, and then more banging.

[kimmie2me]

# 03. Unexpected Partners

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀✰⋆⁺⋆˙⠀⠀⠀⠀taglist ... chapters ... masterlist

.....

If you’d had a time machine, you wouldn’t use it for anything noble or selfless—no epic rescue of historical figures, no preventing major disasters. Nope. You’d drag yourself back a month just to shake your wide-eyed, naïve self by the shoulders and scream, "Don’t do it. Find another department. Any other department. Join traffic control. Herd cats. Just don’t end up here."

Because here was Bakugou personal circle of hell. The past few weeks felt like a marathon in which you’d been tripped at the starting line, dragged halfway, and then left to sprint uphill. In the rain. With weighted vests. There was no mercy in Bakugou’s world, only adrenaline and barked orders that carried enough force to knock the confidence right out of your chest.

You learned, fast and furiously, that he wasn’t just tough. He was ruthless, exacting, and demanded perfection with all the warmth of a drill sergeant who hadn’t had coffee. And coffee—you’d learned the hard way—was something that could make or break a morning. There was The Incident when you dared bring him a cup with too much sugar, only to receive a sharp glare and a grumbled, “What, you think I’m ten?” The next thirty minutes were dedicated to sprint drills so intense your calves whimpered for days. All you wanted to do is figure out what the hell his favorite coffee is! Yes, you're still trying..

And yes, you're still failing.

Bakugou’s teaching methods were a combination of trial by fire and sheer terror. He wasn’t interested in your excuses or half-assed answers. If you messed up, you’d know—usually by the clipped way he’d shout, “Run it again,” or the eye twitch that signaled he was two seconds from ripping the folder out of your hands and doing it himself.

It wasn’t just the shouting, though that was certainly a staple. It was the moments he’d watch you with that hawk-eyed stare, arms crossed and expression set like granite. There were no second chances when Bakugou was breathing down your neck; you either got it right or got ready to count pavement cracks while doing your punishment laps. You hadn’t done so many wall sits since training, thighs quivering like jelly by the time he allowed you to stand.

And it wasn’t just you. Anyone who dared step into his path found themselves swept up in the tornado of his expectations. It made surviving the day feel like a badge of honor, if surviving meant stumbling into your apartment with barely enough strength to fling your shoes off.

One time, you’d accidentally jumbled up a lead in a report, swapping suspect descriptions that Bakugou caught in record time. He’d smacked the paper onto your desk with an incredulous look. “D’you even read this before handin’ it in?” And just like that, your next hour was filled with circuits and resistance bands that made your arms feel like spaghetti. “C’mon, rookie, or should I start callin’ you noodle arms?” The jab stuck, and you groaned whenever he brought it up.

Bakugou’s wrath was tempered only by moments of begrudging silence, the rare instances where you met his eyes and thought you saw a flicker of something softer, only to blink and find it gone. Those moments would have been comforting if they weren’t fleeting, crushed by his next tirade over a misplaced document or a missed clue.

But just as you’d started thinking maybe you’d bitten off more than you could chew, a case dropped that pulled everyone into high gear: a string of burglaries, each more calculated than the last. No dumb luck, no rookie mistakes would fly with this one. Bakugou’s tension was palpable, a crackle in the air whenever he entered the room. He’d pace with his hands shoved into his pockets, muttering curses and theories under his breath like the case had insulted him personally.

Your nerves spiked with each passing day. Bakugou was more relentless than ever, orders flung out faster than you could grab your notebook. And if you so much as hesitated? He’d turn, eyes gleaming like a predator scenting blood. “Keep up, or get out.”

By the time you wrapped up that week’s legwork, you weren’t sure whether to feel accomplished or absolutely wrecked. Bakugou had pushed every ounce of strength and patience from your body, leaving you hollowed out and aching. Yet, for some reason you’d yet to understand, you kept coming back, stepping into the precinct with a quiet determination that only grew as his glare followed you like a challenge.

Time machine, you reminded yourself, scribbling down notes that were half-legible from your shaking hand. You’d go back, find yourself, and whisper conspiratorially, Choose desk duty. It’ll save your soul.

But you didn’t have a time machine. You had Bakugou. And you were starting to suspect he might just make a detective out of you, whether you survived him or not.

.....

The burglaries had started small—a string of break-ins that barely made the back page of the city’s morning paper. But each successive hit grew bolder, more precise, like the thief was taunting the force. By the time it hit their radar, Chief Yagi’s usually calm expression had hardened to steel, and even the more seasoned detectives were exchanging wary glances.

For you, it meant one thing: Bakugou was operating at maximum intensity, his usual scowl deepened to something almost carved from stone. It was an energy you could feel in the air, like the static before a lightning strike. And with that, the pace of your life turned from grueling to almost impossible. Long days blurred into longer nights, the fluorescent lights above burning into your skull as you combed through reports with squinting eyes and a splitting headache. The precinct buzzed with anticipation and tension, everyone bracing for the storm.

You sat at your desk, meticulously cross-referencing suspect details when Bakugou stormed in, clipboard in one hand and the other pressed into his hip like it was the only thing keeping him from losing it entirely. He glanced around the room, eyes sharp as the edge of a blade, before they settled on you. The air shifted.

“Rookie,” he barked, and you jumped, nearly dropping your pen. He didn’t wait for you to recover before launching into his rapid-fire speech. “Listen up, ‘cause I’m only sayin’ this once. The pattern’s changed. Our thief’s not just hittin’ high-value targets anymore—they’re goin’ after places with tech infrastructure. Means they’re not just lookin’ for loot—they’re diggin’ for data, and if we don’t get ahead, we’re gonna be two steps behind with our heads up our—”

He paused, jaw tightening like he was biting back an insult, and then leaned down, bringing himself to eye level. His eyes were an inferno, daring you to miss a word. “You listening?”

You nodded so fast it was a wonder your neck didn’t cramp, scribbling down notes as if your life depended on it. Maybe it did—at least, your peace of mind surely did. Bakugou’s tone wasn’t just demanding; it was drilled into your skull, searing in its urgency.

“Good. Now, look—”

“Oh! Hey, Kacchan!!”

The voice sliced through the room like a record scratch, shattering Bakugou’s hyper-focused tension into a thousand jagged pieces. He physically recoiled, straightening up so fast you’d think he’d been stung. Your pen stilled mid-word, eyes flicking between him and the newcomer with an internal "?!?!?!?!" blaring in neon letters.

Kacchan?

There, standing at the threshold of the precinct like he’d wandered in by accident, was Detective Midoriya Izuku, all soft smiles and bright green eyes. He gave a little wave as if Bakugou wasn’t seconds away from launching into orbit.

“Kacchan, hi! It’s been a while, hasn’t it?” Midoriya’s tone was impossibly cheerful, and the nickname fell from his lips like it was a greeting between best friends. But from the way Bakugou’s hands twitched, it may as well have been a bomb dropped into a room full of dynamite.

Bakugou’s response was instantaneous, voice sharp enough to cut glass. “What the hell’re you doin’ here, Deku?”

The silence that followed was suffocating, punctuated only by the distant hum of computers and a detective a few desks over clearing their throat awkwardly. Your heart thumped in your chest as if it was trying to escape the awkwardness, and you glanced at Midoriya, expecting him to shrink back. But he didn’t—his smile wavered, sure, but he held his ground, eyes earnest.

“I’m here to help with the case,” Midoriya explained, and it took everything in you not to whip your head around. Help? With your case?

Bakugou’s reaction was as explosive as you expected. “Help? You—”

But before he could finish, a voice cut through the tension like a blade. “Enough, boys.” Chief Yagi’s voice was firm as he walked in, flanked by another man who exuded calm authority—the infamous Chief Aizawa Shouta. His tired eyes swept over the room, taking in the scene with a raised brow.

“Chief Aizawa and his team are joining us for this operation. And that includes Detective Midoriya.” Chief Yagi’s tone left no room for argument.

Bakugou’s jaw set so tight you could hear the grind of teeth. And in that moment, you knew that whatever the past few weeks had been like? They were about to get a whole lot more complicated.

…

You barely had time to absorb Midoriya’s, let alone Cheif Aizawa's, sudden appearance before Chief Yagi called everyone into the briefing room. This would’ve been a regular meeting for the higher-ups—the kind you’d usually only hear about when Bakugou came out, slamming the door behind him, face redder than the emergency exit signs. But today, for reasons you couldn’t fathom, you were summoned along. Because apparently, if Bakugou was involved, you were involved.

The briefing room was already filling up, the thick scent of coffee and paper lingering in the air as officers shuffled in, muttering greetings and speculations under their breath. Chief Yagi took his place at the head of the room, looking as solid and unyielding as ever, while Chief Aizawa leaned against the wall, hands in his pockets, observing the room with the detached but alert gaze of a cat watching a busy street. Midoriya slid into a chair near the front, shooting you a small, encouraging smile. Bakugou, in contrast, looked like he’d swallowed a wasp.

Then, in strode Officer Ashido Mina, bright as a firecracker, with Officer Sero Hanta close behind her, both exuding a casual confidence that somehow didn’t feel out of place even in a room of high-stakes professionals. Mina shot a finger-gun wave at the room, winking in your direction before taking a seat across from Midoriya. Sero plopped down beside her, his grin almost lazy but eyes sharp, taking in everything at once.

Chief Yagi’s voice brought the room to order. “Alright, everyone, this joint task force is in place because the burglaries have escalated. We’re dealing with a team of thieves targeting secure information in addition to high-value assets. The leads point to a complex operation, and that’s where our collaboration comes in.”

He nodded to Chief Aizawa, who spoke in that low, measured tone that commanded instant respect. “We need all hands on deck. Each of you will have a role—whether it’s field, intel, or processing. Officer Uraraka will be on the evidence team, coordinating with the data we’ve collected so far.”

The mention of Uraraka’s name caught your attention, and sure enough, she was at the back, beaming when she spotted you. Her presence was a rare comfort in this sea of intense, stern faces. It had been years since you’d seen her, but it was like old times when she waved, mouthing an excited “Hey!”

“Detective Bakugou, Officer L/N, you’ll be working alongside Detective Midoriya’s team,” Chief Yagi continued, and the very air in the room seemed to vibrate as Bakugou’s scowl deepened. He was in full protest mode, shooting daggers at Midoriya, who looked back with a determined—if slightly nervous—smile.

Once the briefing concluded, Chief Yagi dismissed everyone, and the room exploded in chatter as officers filed out. You managed to navigate through the crowd until you reached Uraraka, who practically bounced on her toes, pulling you into a quick hug.

“Can you believe it? We’re working together!” she said, her voice bright with excitement. “I’ve been doing the fingerprinting, data scans—all the good stuff. Remember when I used to geek out about this stuff in school?”

“Oh, totally! You always aced those forensics projects,” you replied, grinning as the memories rushed back.

She nodded, laughing. “Exactly! And now, look at us! I get to actually do it. And you—you’re working with Bakugou Katsuki, of all people!” Her eyes widened with awe and maybe a little mischief, the kind that reminded you of her knack for getting you into trouble back in the day.

“Working is a strong word,” you muttered, glancing over at Bakugou, who was still glaring holes into Midoriya, ignoring everyone else. “Surviving might be more accurate.”

Uraraka giggled but quickly straightened when she caught Bakugou’s expression aimed squarely at her—a glare so intense that it was a wonder she didn’t spontaneously combust. She cleared her throat, gave you a small, sympathetic smile, and said, “Well, I’d better get back to it. I’ll send over the scans when they’re ready! And hey, catch up soon?”

You nodded, squeezing her hand in agreement. “Definitely. Thanks, Ochaco.”

With a final grin, Uraraka turned back to her workstation, her demeanor shifting from friendly to focused in an instant. You watched her go, feeling a brief pang of jealousy at how seamlessly she slid into her work. But that was quickly overridden by the realization that Bakugou was striding your way, arms crossed and a storm brewing in his expression.

“Done with your little reunion?” he sneered, barely waiting for you to nod. “Good. 'Cause now it’s time for you to actually do somethin’ useful, rookie.” He nodded towards the open case file in his hand. “Let’s go.”

.....

The silence between you and Bakugou was taut, strung up like an overused wire threatening to snap. He stalked ahead, practically dragging the storm cloud that was his mood behind him. You weren’t entirely sure why he’d decided that now was the time to go full boot camp on you, but here you were, heels clicking on the polished floor, trying not to look like you’d rather melt into it.

“Listen up, rookie,” Bakugou started without turning around, his voice a low rumble laced with that familiar bite. He navigated the labyrinth of hallways like a predator circling its territory. You’re gonna make yourself useful if it kills ya, got it?”

You swallowed thickly, feeling a combination of irritation and nerves twist in your chest. You’d learned over the past few weeks that Bakugou had a penchant for the extreme. Everything was all or nothing with him, whether it was paperwork, interrogations, or the way he yelled about the printer jamming (which was only your fault that one time).

“Got it,” you managed, though it came out weaker than you intended. He spared you a glance, eyes narrowing as if daring you to prove him right about all the times he’d muttered under his breath about “extras” wasting his time.

As if on cue, the door to one of the briefing rooms swung open, and Detective Kirishima stepped out, his broad grin a sharp contrast to Bakugou’s perpetual scowl. “Yo! Heard we’re working together on this one,” he said, his voice friendly and warm, instantly cutting through the tension.

Great. If there was ever a time to look capable, it was now. Not that Kirishima would ever point out your mistakes, but being around Bakugou had a way of amplifying your self-awareness until it was deafening.

“Try not to get in the way,” Bakugou snapped, jerking his thumb towards the entrance. You wondered if his eyes had always held that unrelenting glint or if he’d sharpened it specifically for you. Kirishima, bless him, only chuckled, patting you on the back as he passed by.

“Don’t mind him. He’s just on edge about the syndicate case,” Kirishima whispered, though you knew Bakugou’s sharp hearing likely picked it up. His glare confirmed it, but he didn’t say anything, turning his attention to the map on the table instead. Red pins clustered like a rash, each marking a hit by the crime syndicate that had every department in the city scrambling.

The realization hit you hard. The stakes were higher than ever, and the idea of fumbling now made your stomach churn. The last thing you needed was to mess up in front of Bakugou and Kirishima, especially when the latter’s optimism made you want to do better and the former’s disdain made you feel like you never could.

Bakugou laid out the plan, his voice cutting through the thick tension in the room. "..'nd if we’re lucky, tonight’s stakeout’ll give us what we need.” He turned to you, eyes narrowing to twin blades. “That clear, rookie?”

“Crystal,” you muttered, earning a sharp nod.

As Kirishima checked the comms equipment, you shifted on your feet, the weight of what was coming pressing against your chest like a vice. The quiet hum of urgency filled the room as you prepared for the night ahead, a stakeout that promised no sleep, a test of patience, and a confined space with Bakugou’s intensity smoldering beside you.

Yeah. You're soo fucked.

[quan-yizhen]

I think Shen Qingqiu (Jiu) dying by Binghe’s hand and Binghe’s hand only was the plan all along and why I think he makes such an interesting villain and why I don’t think he needs “redemption.” because in his eyes LBH was his only equal left so if he absolutely had to fall by anyone…it would have to be from him. He (SQQ)—in his eyes—already won. There’s nothing to atone for.

Because here is the thing—In this hypothetical you are SQQ. An immortal peak master with massive imposter syndrome and an unchecked inferiority complex not at all helped by the only other person in the sect who is intimately aware of your background and also happens to be your superior and #1 enabler. Aforementioned enabler had abandoned you and is now in this dance of pity and poor communication (all directed at you) and not once do they explain themselves. A part of you doesnt really want them to, because surely the only options are ‘I forgot about you’ or ‘life was good and you weren’t worth going back for.’ So you’re also not giving them a chance to explain because having someone confirm out loud (‘you’re forgettable, you’re worthless’) what you already think about yourself is wicked work.

Anyway you receive upon your peak one day a prodigy of a student, who never has any family come visit or send gifts, who is so sweet and kind and has nothing to do with anything. So you kinda hate him for it. Because how can someone who clearly has no one and from what you know came from nothing and no where important pretend like everything is or will be fine? You know very well what the world does to people who have nothing and no one. So why is this brilliant student of yours determined to be so willfully ignorant? Why lie to yourself like that? And if there is one thing you hate more than anything, it’s liars (see: The Enabler.)

So you make the life of this random, completely innocent bystander hell.

You tell them in more ways than one ‘you are forgettable and you are worthless.’ Why? Because you want them to break character. You want them to wake up. You want them on your level because then that’d be at least one more person who is. That’d be one more person who gets it. And if they hate you for it, it would be justified. It would be a truth and you both would be at an understanding.

So years later when they do come back, and they are broken beyond all recognition, and they hate you, and they hate them, and everyone has to pay—they are finally on your wavelength. This isn’t someone better or more principled than you. This isn’t someone you perceive necessarily as being lesser or an insult to your “good nature.” It’s an equal. And there is nothing that you would want or respect more than to at the very least, die by the hands of an equal.

[mitigatedchaos]

Couple of notes for readers.

1 - I won't get into it in too much detail, but radiating contempt is sort of the default culture war signal. It shows that someone is on, and loyal to, Team A, and that they consider themselves superior to Team B. It's much more efficient at this than making detailed arguments for Team A (which could have been made out of sincere desire to seek truth and thus don't signal loyalty as strongly), and it's much easier and therefore can be done by much less intelligent and informed people.

2 - I don't generally recommend the use of provocation as a discursive tactic in most contexts. It can make people feel like they're up against a wall, and reduce their willingness to consider alternative ideas. One of the main reasons aggressive social justice uses provocation, intentionally or not, is to reduce the dimensionality of opponents' responses (by making them panic, or making them angry) and thereby limit their maneuverability. In this context, it's a method for polarization.

However, there is a valid use for provocation.

One of the reasons that the default culture war behavior is contemptuous detached irony is that it doesn't actually specify a positive position - it only specifies a negation of a different position. A positive position has trade-offs. A negation is the set "every other position," so the trade-offs are not well-defined.

However, in the face of detached irony, provocation can act as a discourse grenade to flush the guy out from behind the cover of contemptuous detached irony and get him to give you his real opinion. One you have his real opinion, you can have an actual discussion on the relative merits of different approaches. Once this discussion has started, there's generally no more need for provocation unless the guy starts putting up a contempt wall again.

I've practiced this somewhat on Twitter - busting through the contempt wall, letting all of the stupid insults slide off and ignoring them, and dragging some guy into an actual discussion.

It's difficult to assess how well it works, as people generally don't change their opinions instantly unless they're quite undecided, but before they change their opinion, they have to think first.

That's still a numbers game, of course.

Forget doomer essays ("here's this terrible problem that threatens to swallow us all"), now my kick is post-doomer essays (the same thing, except written decades ago and the doom just came true and now we all have to live with it). I've already mentioned Bowling Alone and Achieving Our Country, now I'm reading David Foster Wallace's essay on television and irony, and that's definitely a key entry in the post-doomer canon as well. It's brilliant, as you'd expect, in its analysis of how irony and cynicism not only anesthetize us, but do so in a way that makes the prospect of rebellion against their grip almost laughable, but even DFW could not foresee that television would be eclipsed by a technology exponentially more powerful at making detached irony the default affect of all human communication, with all the consequences that entails.

[trashycosmos]

avoiding petty games is like my ultimate goal, but i'm a big proponent of don't fuck with me i don't fuck with you nor perfect. and just bc i choose not to respond/don't notice the first time or few, doesn't mean i can't recognize it later on and make note. which trust me i will tally that shit up and give a proportionate comeback when i deem it necessary.

[cosmics-beings]

I think another thing I like about starscream, yet hate that the fandom fails to acknowledge about starscream is that, a lot of his rotten personality and his nastiness comes from way before he meets megatron and way before he was a deception.

That’s not to say that a lot of the ways he acts doesn't mirror megatron and the mistreatment he went through. and that impacts how starscream heals, makes friends, etc., idw - like what megatron did still badly affects him and that's not something to be ignored, and it's still not fair that he doesn't get the same happiness megatron did.

But, I think that people do tend to act as if Starscream was perfect and uncorrupt before Megatron.

That's not true...starscream was also a rotten, manipulative and bad person before that. and a lot of that was in response to how he was treated and hating his own body/existence, and the caste system, etc. We see how a lot of people in transformers react to oppression and I think starscream is such an interesting case of someone who is so angry and furious at the system he was created in that he takes it out on others yet still fights for himself and only himself. It is sad, and it’s awful to see how his own existence and the caste system does destroy him, but I think its important to note and to understand to just see how oppressed people still have to fight through their own oppression and sometimes, because of that, because of the trauma they go through, turn rotten. And Starscream did terrible, sneaky, and awful things. He did shitty things to climb to the top and he hurt those around him, he hurt people he trusted him, and he was happy to be that way. No one made him evil, manipulative, or untrustworthy, he did that on his own.

I don’t like that a lot of the fandom tends to tie Starsream’s negative and problematic behavior and personality to megatron because it also takes away from a lot of growth, agency and discussion about starscream’s personality and why he is the way he is.

He wasn’t a perfect, innocent and shy person before he met megatron, or before he became a deception. He still did awful things and while becoming a deception was a way he could grow past the system that created him, he still did very much do so for power. Starscream was an ambitious yet a morally ambiguous person before megatron and he had to be to survive in his own mind. His life wasn’t perfect and happy before megatron, he was still fighting and he was still scheming to survive.

I really don’t like how people kind of take that away from him, and act like everything he does and every shitty way he acts is *because* of megatron. I know it’s not fun to have to admit that he wasn’t a good person before megatron met him, but I think it’s necessary to understand his character, and not a lot of people do. And when you don’t do that, you have people misinterpreting his character and being genuinely shocked when he does villainous things. Like for instance, sky bound starscream’s actions shock a lot of people because they don’t think that he is a villain - I remember a lot of ES critique is that earthspark starscream doesn’t need a redemption act- he just needs people to love and accept him. And I think you guys forgot that he was also a space fascist and enjoyed killing people on his own accord. And while megatron himself does impact how starscream acts and treats others - starscream still was an extremely problematic person eons before he met megatron.

I don’t think this negates just how badly Megatron’s treatment fucked him up, and made it so that it was difficult for him to form relationships even after, or find happiness. And I think that’s just something that cannot be ignored. But I also think starscream is more interesting as a character if the fandom acknowledged that he was this way before, that he wasn’t perfect or innocent, and that he reacted that way because he was unhappy with is life, his station, his caste, etc.

this also isn't a chance to come and try to excuse how megatron treated him, so pls don't do that on here.

[viorhysealberia]

the real fun of being in a predominately transfem Discord server is watching the number of people without she/her in their pronouns get smaller every other day

[headphonemouse]

i dont even feel like what i do for work is work, really. i go to a location. i get beamed with psychic attacks. i take a lunch time nap. i get beamed with psychic attacks. lately ive been reading shoujo manga on my breaks. i go home. every two weeks my bank balance goes up without any notice or warning, completely unrelated to the earlier tribulations

[curiosityschild]

I've had a few conversations recently, mostly with castmates, where they are very surprised to learn that I am 30. They keep pegging me as early 20's. And like...it keeps making me feel uncomfortable instead of flattered. And I've been wondering why because I really don't think I've unlearned the whole "30 is old" thing THAT well despite my best efforts.

And I think it might be partially because I kind of feel like I've been tricking them? Like oh no these 20 year olds thought I was one of them but actually I am a gross creepy old person. And partially also because I'm afraid that they're actually calling my actions immature? Like you thought I was younger because I don't act like a "real adult"? I don't know.

Like they literally keep staring at me open mouthed that happened more than once. Stop doing that! It makes me feel weird :(

[possamble]

I think the most egregious case of "tagging a background f/f ship" is when the f/f ship is an established couple that spends most of their screentime trying to get the m/m or f/m ship together. They barely even flirt. Many such cases. :(

I know there are real problems I could get heated about but this one truly makes me want to book a rage room

[bolszaja-miedwedica]

"i make out with my friends daily minsung aint shit"

im??? flabbergasted

[floralovebot]

And Another Thing it's not like i Don't like roygarth or that i'm particularly Against the ship cause no. but i think their canon relationship is so much more interesting than this weird fanon version of them where they were always Best Buds.

like canon roygarth starts with them being angsty teens dealing with their own shit and fully refusing to understand each other. garth latches on to everyone who's even a Little nice to him and roy is stuck in his I Don't Need Friends They Disappoint Me stage. roy also has very high standards for himself and gets pissy with garth cause he feels like garth shouldn't be a hero. which obviously sets garth off because he Also feels like he shouldn't be a hero but the other titans were usually supportive and understanding whereas roy would actually say it and insult him directly.

And Then garth fucks off and only talks to the titans when they talk to him first, then he's Fine Again but goes through Rough Shit. meanwhile roy's life is Also falling apart. but they get older and they get more mature and they get to this point in their life where they don't Want to fight each other anymore. the titans are their home and they're constantly losing people and they don't Want to lose what little they have left. but they also won't apologize or talk about what happened because they're both emotionally repressed so they just never clear shit up.

it's obvious that later on roy Does respect garth and Does see him as a hero, but he never apologizes for what he said in the past so garth still has doubts. and garth starts to gradually leave the titans out of stuff and only update them once a fucking year so roy is like ?? What Are We??? and as adults you can see that playful banter and that familiarity they have with each other and yeah it IS genuine but it's also burying all the blood bad they never actually sorted.

they're just in this really weird zone where they're Family but they're not Friends. they would give their life for the other but they never talk. they pretend to understand the other but they don't know anything going on in their life. they're best friends and they're just some guys. like imo their canon relationship is so interesting and has So Many Layers that really highlight their individual problems but the fanon version is always like "yeah sometimes they sass each other :)". like.

[bisexualseraphim]

Do queer people who gatekeep sexualities and gender identities have nothing better to do like genuinely what is your problem. The whole point of the community is that gender and sexuality are more fuckity wuckity than man or woman, gay or straight and in almost 2024 we STILL have mfs going “nah that’s not a thing :/ you don’t belong in the community” unless they’re causing harm to others I seriously urge you to shut the fuck up. It is the easiest thing in the world to just say “hmm I don’t really understand that. But it’s their life and none of my business” and just move on with your life and let people live theirs. I do not give one iota of a fuck if someone identifies as a wolfgender they/them/bun/bunself AMAB transmasc who is only attracted to butches with curly hair and brown eyes IT DOES NOT AFFECT ME. I’m happy that they’ve found a way to express their identity that feels true to them and then I think about it no further. Like it takes active mental energy and emotion to get pressed over how someone expresses themselves and I don’t understand why you’d put yourself through that stress and then decide to be bitchy and make people feel like shit for being themselves. I’m seriously getting so tired of people in the community acting like it’s a fucking competition or you can only join if you meet X Y and Z criteria as if it’s some college mean girls sorority club. People are actively trying to take our rights away all the time and while this is happening we’re helping them by tearing our teeth into our own. Great

[aetsiv]

i can't believe i have to say this but anonymous asks are not something to be ashamed of -- your anonymity is your choice and should be respected!!

[tuxedokit]

Hello, This Post Is A Cleanse Of Our Followers. If You Support Israel, Or Are Remaining "Neutral" On The Genocide In Palestine, Please Educate Yourself Or Block This Account. We Stand Against Genocide

Good Day.