#what a fucking necessary read for the tumblr population

[i-want-a-bagel]

Hi yes you should read Dr. Devon Price's new book Unlearning Shame when it comes out in February.

I put a long review on goodreads but basically what Tumblr will care about is:

we are all victims of a system that is built around shaming us for needing help and not being perfectly self sufficient (and not fitting into the norm) and the only way to change things is to stop shaming individuals for their "failings" and recognize that we're all just creatures and experience and promote acceptance of yourself and forgiveness of others

(i am REALLY summarizing please read Price's actual words he is much better than this one paragraph at explaining this and leading the reader nicely to unlearning shame of your own and the shame you project on others)

[chaotic-orphan]

Found fictional story/novel

So... I have found a fictional novel that I wrote over the last ten years that I had completely forgotten about, and then, once I found it again, I realised there is so much of it - like 90,000 words much of it - and it is a lot to comb through and I kind of shut down mentally when I found it but I am working more now on updates for the WIPS I have on Tumblr!

So you can Expect updates soon in:

Delirious Villain x hero caretaker,

Heroic betrayal,

Intoxicating fear (updates every Saturday) (from now) :)

Vendetta,

and, A Benignant Mischief

which are all started in the drafts!

Updates continued under cut

(*not necessary* to read as it is mostly rambles and ranting about the novel I found (and others), but I want to share some fun revelations I found while skimming it)

There are some whumpy scenes from the novel that I may post as I find them, cause some of them are very whumpy, and I enjoyed reading them~

The plot has a lot of male characters which is both interesting and annoying— interesting because I love the two brothers dynamic, even not even blood related, like two brothers joined together by fate, blood, prophecy etc. Annoying because it’s obvious that I looked at the media I was surrounded with and was like “nobody wants to read about women, if they did, there would be more women centric things” so I’ll write about boys!

Point 2 Contd. (Rant!) Obviously discounting the genre of YA dystopian fiction which was great, and populated by mainly female protagonists, and which I enjoyed, but then, were shit on by the mainstream media because GIRLS CAN’T FIGHT? Girls can’t be the main driving force of a novel? Girls suck, boo girls, unless they’re tom boys or men. Ahem, thank you for your input on teenage girl’s book choices FORTY YEAR OLD WHITE MEN :D WHERE WOULD WE BE WITHOUT YOU

Part 2+3 contd. (the brightside!) However, the good thing about this is that I can populate the rest of the novel with strong female characters! There are a few dotted through who i dote on a bit, I love them, like come here my little beautiful minority <3

The plot centers around two brothers who get torn apart when outlaw's raid in their coastal village - actually, my newest Medieval WIP was inspired by the novel!! Same setting/vibe (as in the coastal village) so very fun

This to say that actually I think the new Medieval WIP is my brain trying to flesh the world out more and see what the average people would do in the world… but it’s a story in its own right too!

There are magic, gods, good gods and bad gods ofc, ancients, bloodlines, descendants, royalty, soldiers, outlaws, magic schools, political intrigue - like it is a mix of everything I have loved over the years which is so funny to see because clearly I haven't changed...

The dialogue?!?!? I don't think I have written like that ever, but the dialogue is so much better than the dialogue I write today and idk why? Maybe because I wrote it off a sudden throng of inspiration or something? But, fuck, how do I write like that again? I mean, without editing, because the amount of editing I had to do to make the novel READABLE wasn't funny, it took so long... it's finished now though, just the editing, NOTHING else - give me strength, I need it

Also, realised that I hate editing - is it something new? Not really, but holy moly... editing sucks, but it also?? Improves the story and fluidity so much, I should start editing my pieces before I publish and come off as far more eloquent than I do

Planning... is also so difficult - 90% of the novel is like this:

Scene X: completed Me: ah, good, that scene is written, I can move on to the next one Me, still staring at Scene X: ...move on now My brain: but what if it happened like this? PROVIDES SEVEN DIFFERENT ALTERNATE ENDINGS TO THE SCENE THAT WEREN'T NECESSARY AND NOW I HAVE TO CUT SO MUCH CRAP BUT MY BRAIN'S STILL LIKE - BUT WHAT IF?

My brain's literally like the writer's brain from Hush, such a good movie... ANYWAYS!!!!

That's the end of all my ramblings for today, was this post necessary? No, but like, I clearly wanted to get it off my chest and vent so we live, laugh, love... I hope all your days are going well :3

~ Orphan,

(P.S. - I'm toying with the idea of dropping my nickname in the bio, or doing a whole overhaul of the blog - the name, the layout... get rid of orphan, or maybe just become "nickname_the orphan", or something. But, see orphans are just so whumpy though I love a good orphan story... thoughts, ideas, waste management? I'm just dunking all my overflow of thoughts on this update today, but sure, look, be grand — I’m truly sorry if you read this far, I am having an ✨episode✨)

[not-terezi-pyrope]

Holy fuck, you're evil. Defending the use of nukes to nuke thousands of innocent civilians in Japan, really? Fucking wow. Use your goddamned brain, you vile fuck. By the way, it wasn't necessary in any way, shape, or form. The U.S. knew this. Also, what the fuck were these alleged leftist Jews doing working for the U.S. government, and what were they going to do with the nukes? Nuke population centers and thus thousands of Jews? Moron.

Tumblr reading comprehension level at zero once again because, even if anon here didn't see my reblog where I clarified this explicitly, I would like to hope that most sensible people would pick up on the fact that what I was pointing out was that Oppenheimer didn't have full access to information, was coerced with fear, and had no foresight as to how the US would ultimately use the bombs. Where the fuck did I say I supported the bombings in Japan? They were two of the worst terrorist atrocities in human history and the US regime was fully to blame.

My point wasn't even that he made the right decisions (he didn't, he should have quit the project after the prospect of a Nazi nuclear program was ruled out), but that he made understandable ones, and that I do not trust smug tumblr users to have done any better.

Especially not people like anon here who will send this kind of vile message to somebody based purely on vibes rather than read what was actually said. Go fuck yourself, please.

[everydayesterday]

you shouldn’t read this.  it’s unsettling, I suppose.  trigger warnings for anyone who suffers from mental illness.  I just need to write it down for the therapeutic aspect.  I will most likely delete this in a few minutes.  

I’m pretty sure tumblr hides this kind of content anyway.  [remember that this is the site that intervenes using koko, which has used ChatGPT for an AI chatbot experiment without the consent of users.]  tumblr doesn’t have the best track record for issues like this.

I need a sleepover with my therapist and psychiatrist where we can watch silly movies in our pyjamas and make jokes about boyfriends and girlfriends.  

I need there to be an option for immediate overnight psychiatric treatment where I can be monitored closely for a few days and have the intervention of specialists to make necessary adjustments to medication, but where I don’t have to get there by showing up at an ER and saying that if I go home I’m going to slash my forearm open with a boxcutter (I’m not sure how likely that specific scenario is, given that I’m squeamish about forearms, but I do feel a need to cut, and I’m not a cutter; maybe I just need to inject something hard into my veins? I can see the appeal of heroin in desperate times).  I’m sure others feel the same obstacles in their path to recovery.  it feels like all or nothing are the only options.  

a few minutes ago I scheduled an appointment with my therapist for today at noon.  at least that’s a positive step that I’ve made, and I did it on my own, instead of burdening my ex-wife with something she’s not entirely equipped to handle emotionally.  

it’s all so sudden.  have my triggers always worked so quickly?  is this a full-blown episode?  I don’t know, but I don’t have answers, and I don’t feel like I’ve got control of my own mind, and being aware of that just makes it worse.  

a big fuck you to my immune system for attacking me back in 2015.  

anyway, here’s a nice excerpt from an article on immunology and bipolar:  

“A narrative review published in Journal of Affective Disorders found that the increased risk of general medical comorbidities (GMC) in patients with bipolar disorder (BD) may be mediated by immune dysfunction.  

The life expectancy of individuals with BD is approximately 11 to 20 years fewer than that of the general population, which is believed to be caused primarily by the elevated prevalence of GMC in BD. For example, cardiovascular disease is more common in individuals with BD vs healthy controls and individuals with other mental disorders, and it is the top cause of mortality in BD. Additionally, diabetes-related death is more common in individuals with BD compared with the general population.”   

guess what I developed back in 2015?  heart problems and diabetes.  stg I don’t know how I’m still alive.  but I made it through the night, even if I have been awake since 3:30.

[mallgothed]

I’ve seen a lot of posts by other asexual people about how they grew up thinking there was something horribly wrong with them, that they had some weird condition that no one else had ever experienced, and then one day they found out about asexuality and breathed a huge sigh of relief. And that’s definitely a story worth telling, but I want to make a post about the opposite experience–that is, assuming you’re “normal” and then having your world knocked off its orbit by the revelation that you’re lowkey probably on the ace spectrum. 

See, I love the idea of romance. It was always my favorite part of every book and movie when I was a kid. I daydreamed constantly, and I liked looking at boys, but the desire ended there. When I got older, I thought I wanted sex, because it seemed like the natural extension of the things I liked to daydream about, but I spent very little time actually having sexual thoughts or desires. I “wanted” sex in a vague, distant, hyper-idealized kind of way, and I always just sort of assumed that everyone else felt the same way I did. And for a long time, that idea went unchallenged. When I was in high school, sex was still sort of a taboo, whisper-and-giggle subject for most of my peers, and since no one ever told me exactly what sexual desire was supposed to feel like, I assumed we were feeling the same thing.

But then, when I got to college, all the social barriers against sex were gone. I was surrounded by horny 18-year-olds who had been dropped in the middle of a huge campus where no one cared what they did, where they could do whatever they wanted, and they wanted to fuck. For the first time, I was surrounded by people who were being very straightforward about their sexual desires. I learned that for them, sexual desire was a direct, immediate, physical thing, rather than a vague idea that they thought about sometimes but never felt the need to act on. That was when I first began to suspect that I wasn’t feeling the same things everyone else was feeling. And then, as I started to interrogate that idea further, I realized that I’d never really wanted sex that badly at all–I just thought that sex was necessary to obtain the things I did want (namely, closeness, validation, and acceptance from men).

Realizing that I was on the ace spectrum was not a happy revelation. As dramatic as it sounds, I kind of felt like my life was a lie. I spent my whole life thinking I was “normal,” only to found out I was actually part of a group that comprises about 1% of the global population. My feelings, which I had assumed were universal, were actually borderline incomprehensible to a decent chunk of people--to the point where I have to write a novel-length tumblr post to adequately explain my point of view. It felt like having a rug pulled out from under me. 

I’m not really sure where I’m going with this. Finding out that I’m a-spec was a fairly recent development, and I’m still kind of deciding how I feel about it. But if anyone else reads this and relates to it, I hope it made you feel a little better.

Much love, and happy (belated) ace day. 

💜

[kingdarkstalker]

I don’t feel like rewording this so here’s my original post:

Wings of Fire’s third arc reads like Tui Sutherland is one of those (white) people who gets offended by people bringing up slavery and discussing how 1600s-1800s white slave owners and slavery endorsers are bad people who should know better, so wrote an entire arc of books on why racism and fascism aren’t caused by indoctrination, hate, and selfish people benefitting off of the oppression of others, but a fucking magic aliens plant and a couple people it’s puppeting, and and all the fascist, racist, sadistic, child-bullying, dictator-supporting, environment-destroying, slave-owning individuals who choose to engage in a system that oppressed and exploits others for their own personal gain aren’t that bad, but all the people who feel like it’s necessary to use violence to rise up and overthrow the oppressors that have been literally endangering their lives are very bad.

The tags mention that I’m a white person not attempting to speak on behalf of BIPOC people, but just pointing out that I see a white person being moronic and problematic.

Can you tell I’m mad the HiveWings frequently get more sympathy than the LeafWings? The LeafWings, the race who was almost wiped out, with half their remaining population resorting to violence out of desperation, get less sympathy than fascists. Like, I get they’re immediately racist to all HiveWings, but you can teach them to cut that out while still having consequences for the majority of the HiveWings that either directly participated in or allowed slavery because they benefit off of it, which the series doesn’t. Or wait until after they can stop fearing for their lives every day. And Sundew’s racism towards SilkWings are hardly a footnote because it’s all about the HiveWings, like they’re the victims here.

This is disgusting and I’ll forever be grateful I didn’t turn into one of these people. And yeah, Tui should fucking retire. ASAP. But she isn’t gonna do shit until the fans realise the shit she put in her books and call her out for it. What a lot of fans, particularly the younger ones, need to hear is just because someone is a nice person does not mean they are a good one; case in point, Tui is a foolish, wilfully ignorant, racist, aggressively victim-blaming abuse apologist who isn’t even that good of a writer when you look back on her books. Like, the whole “IceWings are tiger moms thing”.

I was reluctant to call this otherwise well-meaning woman a racist, but that video essay you recommended, revealing a legitimate clip of her confessing, humorously and without any sense of shame or regret, that she based most of the IceWings’ culture off of a fucking Asian stereotype, I felt horrified. That’s outright racist, whether she knows it’s a racist stereotype of Asian moms or not, aside from the she damn well SHOULD, she is a grown-ass woman with access to the internet. And the fact no one even showed any visible discomfort fustrared me. Too many people make excuses for this woman.

I’ve had enough, I’m pissed off, and it’s nice seeing I’m not the only one. I stg, without this blog, yourself, and the askers here, my mental health would be in shambles. I was a young child when I had to realise on my own how fucked this series was because I didn’t have any blog like this, I couldn’t find a soul in this fandom who called this out for years, and the wiki only made excuses for it like the fact they’ll disregard Tui’s word and make up their own ageing system to defend Glorybringer. Why is no one calling them out on this?

I am a split second away from making a Google Doc or Word Doc or something on the list of bullshit this woman has put in her series since no one else but a small handful of Tumblr users and a YouTuber feel like calling this out. Scholastic should be doing something for fuck sake! And this woman should NOT be writing childrens’ books, or making any kind of media, end of story.

👏👏👏👏👏👏

[wishingicouldfly]

I've been actively blogging for more than six months, even though I've had a tumblr account for ten years. I started reading One Direction (specifically Larry) fanfiction about the same time.

Originally, I read exclusively canon compliant fiction--I was hungry for industry insider, what-could-have-happened narratives. But I've slowly branched out into other genres. I find fanfic--good fanfic--super calming. When I've had too much stunting, too much noise, I grab a fanfic and immerse myself. So I thought it was time to do a post about my favorites. Keep in mind, I'm terrible at cataloging, and I have over 150 bookmarks on my A03 Account, so this is by no means an exhaustive list.

I'm not including the classics like Tired, Tired Sea and Escapade. While I do love both of those (so well written), because a lot of people know about those already.

My all time favorites are by @helloamhere

1. The Multipicity of Powers - https://archiveofourown.org/works/28580229

Maybe in another universe he isn’t different. Maybe he hadn’t been given an impossible choice. Maybe he wouldn’t have lost everything and broken everything and then fallen impossibly, irrevocably in love with the first next thing that was kind. Maybe in that universe he doesn’t feel like he’s never breathing, always pretending, teaching the kids even though they all have to learn alone, trying hard not to read the headlines, and so afraid, every day, that he won’t be a good enough teammate to the superhero he can’t live without. He knows that love isn’t supposed to feel this way, slid secret under your skin like a surgical razor, an invisible war held close over the tender vein that keeps you alive. On the other hand, Louis wonders, had he ever known how to do it any other way?

Maybe there’s a universe where he doesn’t have to keep all his secrets on the inside.

But this isn’t that universe.

//an X-Men AU.

Me: I never thought I'd love a super hero 1D cross over, but this is so well done. The backstory, the pacing, the characterization, the friendship. Read it.

2. Saving Symphony Hall and it's prequel Night Out - https://archiveofourown.org/works/12633921

“I think I have an idea,” Louis said. Slowly, and reluctantly, but with a growing sense of the inevitable. “God damnit, I think I have a really good idea.”

“Oh christ, that's the problem-solving face,” Babs said. “Last time we saw that face, he sold a company.”

“Wait, what?” Zayn asked.

“Right place, right time,” Louis said. “Also, fuck my life,”

“What?” Zayn repeated. Niall patted his hand.

“I usually just roll with whatever Louis is about to do,” he said. “It’s better for us all.”

“That’s the attitude,” said Louis, “I’ll tell you tomorrow. Tonight, I need to do some research. Zayn, give me your number. I’m gonna save our symphony.”

Me: The best sex scene I've ever read is in the prequel Night Out. Sexy, but tender. I love the characterizations in this duo--ABO but not traditional. Doesn't feel out of character.

3. Just Let Me -https://archiveofourown.org/works/11695350

The party was going well. So well, Niall had already sworn undying love to one multi-tiered chocolate cake, two friendly corgi-poodle mixes, Zayn’s hair, and the entire population of Los Angeles. So well, Zayn had only laughed and ruffled Niall’s hair and not even twitched towards a cigarette. So well, nearly everyone had spilled far past the boundaries of the night’s original plans, extracting bottles of vodka from the cabinets and losing a lot of clothes. Harry had proclaimed that he was finally going to throw a small and very grownup dinner party and of course here they were three hours later, fifty people half-naked in the pool. Soon to be full-naked, if Louis had to guess. Everybody in LA loved a heated pool. Everybody loved Harry.

Me: I love love love this. Harry is so gentle, and Louis is so stubborn and needy. It's ABO but subtle. I'll read this one again and again. It's comforting.

@HelloAmHere is one of the best writers I know--amazing stuff. I also love their werewolf story, but it's not finished, so I won't link it here.

Other favorites:

1. Seven Up by cherrystreet - https://archiveofourown.org/works/5828539

Very loosely based on the British TV show "The Up Series" and somewhat inspired by the song “Something I Need” by Onerepublic, we follow the lives of Harry Styles and Louis Tomlinson in an interview setting every seven years. They fall apart and come together, their lives and emotions recorded. Harry calls it a time capsule. Louis calls it a pain in the arse.

Me: Trigger Warning, major character death. I literally SOBBED through the end of this. It was lovely and devastating. So good. But be warned.

2. Light, Spark and Fire series by @greenfeelings

Life’s pretty ordinary for Harry. He lives with his best friend, got into university just like he’s planned, and manages to support himself just fine for an unbonded omega. If he sustains that lifestyle by getting paid to help alphas through their rut every now and then, that’s nothing to be hung up on. Until he’s hired by an alpha that turns everything upside down.

Or, Louis and Zayn run a music label, Liam is Britain’s up-and-coming pop star, Harry’s working on taking Louis’ walls down until he builds his own up, and Niall holds them all together without realising he does.

Me: A nice healthy three-parter. Characters you just want to live with for a while.

3. Relief Next to Me by dolce_piccante - https://archiveofourown.org/works/1117942

AU. What happens when a baker and a graphic designer meet via a very specific Craigslist post? Fate, friendship, food, and maybe more.

Me: This one is super long, so be prepared when you dive in. It's got a lot of lovely bits, and some great smut.

4. 2012 'Verse by ashavahishta - https://archiveofourown.org/series/27601

Me: This is a five-parter and satisfies my love of canon compliant stories. It spans most of 2012 and into 2013, and illustrates the difficulties of Harry and Louis' relationship amid the band success and management disapproval.

5. Love After the End of the World by mercurial-madhouse (writing_practice) - https://archiveofourown.org/works/31251434/chapters/77248901

Society shattered when all electricity suddenly cut off across the globe, plunging the world into darkness. Now, Prometheus Industries is the sole remaining supply of power, a saving grace to those who survived Lights Out. As fugitives in no-man’s land struggling to break into Prometheus HQ, death lurks around every corner for Louis and Zayn. Things get complicated when a routine recon falls apart and Louis collides with Harry and his mates Niall and Liam, survivors with their own agenda.

When staying alive is already a constant battle, the deadliest weakness is to be in love. For Harry and Louis, finding each other sits on top of the endless list of What Else Could Go Wrong.

Me: Really unusual (as far as I can tell) end of the world story. I loved the characterizations of soul mates here at the end of the world.

6. Flightless Bird by audreyhheart - https://archiveofourown.org/works/6401653/chapters/14656807

AU where Louis Tomlinson is a principal dancer with The Royal Ballet. When his rival from ballet school, moody dance prodigy Harry Styles joins the company, old wounds are reopened and old passions reignited. During the company's production of Swan Lake the secret that doomed their love is finally revealed, but will it be too late?

Me: Trigger Warning, sexual assault (by an original character to a major character). This was a little brutal because I hated to see a broken Harry, but it was well written and has a happy ending.

7. Wear It Like A Crown by zarah5 - https://archiveofourown.org/works/1816771/chapters/3900322

AU. As part of a team of fixers hired to handle a gay scandal in Buckingham Palace, Louis expects Prince Harry to be a lot of things—most notably a royally spoilt brat. Never mind that the very same Prince Harry used to star in quite a number of Louis' teenage fantasies.

Me: I loved Louis in this one--actually they are both pretty great. Scratch that, they are ALL pretty great.

8. Shake Me Down by AGreatPerhaps12 - https://archiveofourown.org/works/3331958/chapters/7285322

Harry's new to college, fresh out of Catholic school and conversion therapy camp, and Louis runs the campus LGBTQIA organization.

Me: I don't like the self-hate here, but it was necessary for the story and H comes around. Found family vibe.

9. Gods & Monsters by Velvetoscar - https://archiveofourown.org/works/2090982/chapters/4550871

The instructions were simple: seduce and destroy Harry Styles. Not once did they discuss the option of Louis actually falling in love. So, naturally, that's exactly what he did.

Me: I loved Harry in this one. Louis gets there. I don't like Liam, but I don't think you're supposed to. Zayn is great.

10. Own the Scars by crinkle-eyed-boo (KimmieRocks) - https://archiveofourown.org/series/1010796

Louis has never felt like he was good enough: for his stepdad, for his life-long best friend, for the life he's supposed to want. After an accident that nearly costs him his life, Louis' parents send him to rehab where he’s forced to face his demons. On the long and difficult road to recovery, Louis must confront the truths he’s been avoiding about his future, his relationships, and his sense of self-worth. Because before he can love anyone else, he’s got to learn how to love himself first.

Me: Harry is lovely in this one. Trigger warning, substance abuse and near death.

11. Wild Love by purpledaisy - https://archiveofourown.org/series/1030904

AU: Two best friends try to date each other for forty days. It's supposed to be fun until emotions make it complicated.

Me: I loved this way more than I thought I would. It's lovely and messy and I love it.

12. Victorian Boy by audreyhheart - https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rosann1986/readings?page=6

Victorian AU. Harry the virgin Duke of Somerset knows little of love, while Louis the sly Duke of Warwick knows too much. When the two dukes come together for the Bilsdale fox hunt in York, Harry finds himself drawn into Louis' bed. But when secrets from Louis' dark past come to light, Harry fears that the fox isn't the only one being hunted.

Me: Historical fiction I didn't intend to love. I LOVE Harry in this one. LOTS of smut, so be warned.

13. Keep Me Closer by zanni_scaramouche - https://archiveofourown.org/works/30752633

Louis expects Harry to react poorly, maybe even file a formal complaint and that’s gonna suck ass but Louis won’t say shit cause he knows he deserves it, so he prepares an apology before Harry’s even turned around.

What he doesn’t expect is Harry to fucking drop.

Me: lovely, protective Louis just trying to do the right thing.

14. Turning Page by purpledaisy for SockstheDog

https://archiveofourown.org/works/11826345

AU: Harry Styles tries to get lost in a place he’s never been.  Louis Tomlinson has been perfecting the art of being lost for years. What they don’t expect to find is each other.

Me: sweet love story. Niall owns a bar, and is pretty great.

15. Freedom Always Comes With a Price by Cyantific - https://archiveofourown.org/works/30278514/chapters/74624262

A shared dream brings them together onto the X-factor stage, but one decision changes Harry and Louis’ lives overnight. Thrust into a world of instant stardom, they're forced to live a lie to sustain their dreams, but years of living in the shadows and under strict management takes its toll.

With the bands impending hiatus, there’s no better time for change, so they think.

Desperate for a solution, they turn to an unlikely source with a radical plan. An unfortunate accident sets everything in motion, but not how they intended, leaving Louis’ memories altered, Harry broken-hearted and full of regret.

Can Harry figure out a way to fix everything? Will he even want to once he sees how Louis moved on after the hiatus? Will Louis ever find out the truth of their past and can he forgive Harry after all this time?

In the end, two friends find out that memories are elusive, trust is everything and love is the only antidote.

Me: Heartbreaking when they lose each other, but really good in the end.

16. Little Technicolor Things by scary_crow - https://archiveofourown.org/works/6025519/chapters/13821628

Louis is a poor writer and recent university graduate, depressed, anxious, and living in London when he meets Harry, an artist with a secret who likes to paint sunrises and pretty boys from California.

17. Hold You Now by solvetheminourdreams - https://archiveofourown.org/works/30253536/chapters/74556744

Three years ago, Harry Styles said goodbye to communications consultancy firm McQuiston Worldwide, leaving a life of travel and agency PR behind. When he accompanies his best friend to a family wedding across the Atlantic, he'll be forced to reopen old wounds and face his past—one that no one wants to hash out, but may just have to.

Me: Niall is great. They almost miss each other in this one, and you just want to bash them over the head. But they figure it out.

18. At Risk, I Fold by clare328 - https://archiveofourown.org/works/26542480

2015 is a stream of hotel rooms and whisky on the rocks, tired glances and touching hands under tables. It’s the bears and the bees under a rainbow sky, and Harry and Louis have to figure out how to grow up together, instead of apart.

Me: A canon compliant fic that feels like it could have really happened. Set in 2015. Lovely first chapter and scene where Harry writes If I Could Fly--i could read that chapter over and over.

19. Into The Blue by zarah5 - https://archiveofourown.org/works/1035822/chapters/2065499

AU. In which Louis is Harry's scuba instructor and quite happy to provide the requested special treatment, pun fully intended. It can't be all that difficult to convince Harry that they're on the same page, right? Also, Niall and Liam may or may not be dating, and Zayn is surrounded by emotionally stunted idiots. He bears it with dignity.

Me: AKA the Scuba fic.

20. Tie Your Heart by ArcadianMaggie - https://archiveofourown.org/works/546688/chapters/973236

Harry grows wings.

Me: How can you not love a fic where Harry grows wings? Trigger warning: injury of a major character.

21. I think I'll end this here. My last and probably first favorite (read it more than once) is...

my heart is breathing for this moment in time by usedtothebeach - https://archiveofourown.org/works/934996/chapters/1820282

When Louis first saw Harry at the 2010 X Factor Auditions, he thought he was watching a peculiarly special stranger. But Harry has known Louis ever since he was five years old.

Because Louis has a rare genetic disorder that causes him to Time Travel to important moments in his past and in his future - and to Harry, always to Harry. When they're put into a band together, it seems like everything Harry has been waiting and wishing for has finally come true. Except for the small fact that Louis doesn't know that Harry is in love with him- that Harry's always been in love with him. Fate, it would seem, is just getting started.

A story about growing up and growing together, and the impossible love that makes it all worthwhile.

Me: I LOVED the Time Traveler's Wife by Audrey Niffenegger, and I'm a huge fan of time travel, so this is right up my alley. It's really well done, weaving canon into fantasy and then going years forward in tme. I love everything about it. Great character development. Really good smut. Trigger warning, there's a little underage sex, so be aware. Anyway, LOVE this one so much.

I'll add to this but it's already longer than I meant it to be.

[nurseofren]

Keeping Your Promise - Chapter 24

Read on AO3

Read chapter twenty-three

Title: Prove it

Words: 6800

Warnings: Talks of pregnancy, mentions of vomit

Summary: A friend. A foe?

ST Rambles: I look pretty good for a dead bitch.

Okay. In all seriousness. In the five weeks that I have not updated, it has been chaos. School is absolutely kicking my ass this semester and I am not afraid to say it. Maternal-Newborn is a hell I would not wish on my worst enemy. With this said, I know any further updates will be sporadic, BUT - and I say this to snuff out any doubt on the matter - I will never, EVER, abandon this story. However it ends, rest assured that it will, in fact, do just that.

I thank you all for your patience and encouragement. This story is something I care deeply about and it just floors me that others do as well. I love interacting with you all, either on here or tumblr or TikTok (if you've made one and I haven't seen it, please tag me! My fyp does not work in my favor lol).

Be kind. Don't forget to be a person. All you can do is try your best.

[MASTERLIST] | BANNER/@elmidol

Good afternoon,

I can only hope this correspondence finds you safe and well.

The Board of Physicians sympathizes during this time of displacement and potential grieving. There are countless variables to be considered during uncertain times like these, but those of your safety and well-being are of the utmost importance. In an effort to convey the depth of our understanding, a unanimous vote has approved the decision to extend the dates of the trial by seven days. Upon receiving this official communication, you should plan to arrive on Canto Bight a minimum of two days prior to the morning of the initial hearing. An updated outline has been attached at the end of this e-mail for reference and sent to all pertinent parties.

Per the initial correspondence, Commander Ren is to receive a new provider prior to the trial’s start date. This objective has been met with the solemn barrier of the diminished population of approved nurses and physicians which resulted from the recent tragedy of Starkiller Base. There have been additional unforeseen circumstances also working to lengthen and altogether halt this approval process. Rest assured that we are doing everything in our power to ensure the trial proceedings occur in an organized and professional manner.

The emergent provider shortage, along with the unknown – and likely diminished – amount of surveillance retained from Starkiller Base prior to its destruction, has laid the foundation for the discussion of potential and probable employment during your time on Canto Bight. The discussions surrounding this issue are in their infancies. Should it be that you are to assume a care position during your trial, you will receive a further updated and in-depth itinerary. This would include the dates, times, and location you would be expected to work; this information would be accompanied by any specific limitations regarding your scope of practice while on trial.

Though you are encouraged to reach out to discuss any questions or concerns you may have pertaining to these new developments, the current agenda is to be followed with strict compliance. Should there be any changes, as stated previously, I will communicate these to you in a timely and conscious manner.

Respectfully,

Karmen Zag, Esq.,

Head of Communications,

The Board of Physicians

“Yeah, well, you can go fuck yourself Karmen Zag. Stupid ass name anyway.”

Not that anyone could hear you, nor that anyone would care, you could not help the petty jab. Karmen Zag, the faceless mouthpiece of the institution actively seeking your death, had little to do with anything. Karmen Zag was not the one who had carved initials into your body; that person was elusive to you now. Karmen Zag was not the one who kept you from sleep; that person was dead, killed by the trembling hands of the very survivor they’d created. Karmen Zag was not the one you were currently hiding from; that person, achingly kind and too ignorant to know different, still came to pick you up from shift every night.

Cramped in the corner of a supply room, you sat with your knees tucked to your chest and your datapad resting on your thighs, eyeing the vent at the bottom of the door to spy Mason’s tapping foot. In the seven days since waking up in the medbay, six days since returning to work to help with the increased patient population – or, at least that’s what you were telling yourself – you had found yourself with a desperate need to distance yourself from Mason. He was unaware of all that was haunting you, nescient to the fact he was at the epicenter of the majority of it. To see him was to remember the choice you’d made, to hate yourself for regretting it, to be morally ripped in half by the unwavering war in the back of your mind.

The first three days he would always sneak up on you, flurries of white lies leaving while you fumbled away from him and into the nearest room. I’m on call tonight was your favorite. No, you weren’t, though you had been staying in the on-call rooms to hide the fact that you no longer held a residence on this ship. No matter if you had not received official word on your employment status, you felt an unease when thinking of returning to Kylo Ren’s quarters. It felt too broken, like you’d be a stranger somewhere you’d once considered a home.

Eventually, Mason being an inherent creature of habit, you’d picked up on his timing. On the fourth day you’d decided to stake him out, finding he would spend exactly ten minutes waiting, send a message to your commlink, spend another five toying with his own as he waited for a response, eventually asking whoever was nearest to tell you to call him. You never did. It was despicable, watching his hope falter as the days passed and you were never there to leave with him; wretched, but that did not make it any less necessary.

So long as you were away from Mason, you couldn’t hurt him. If you could create a rift between the two of you so great as to discourage any further interaction, you could save him from all the suffering that came along with being associated with you. On the other hand, you couldn’t deny the comfort you felt in deferring any conversation with him. Avoidance may not be a healthy coping mechanism, but all the ones you’d learned of in school were useless to your set of circumstances; there was no talking this through, no way to speak of Snoke or Kylo or Robbie without getting someone else hurt. You were trapped in your own, sole company; whoever you had become recently, you were barely tolerant of them, let alone fond. It was growing increasingly difficult to recognize your own reflection. At some point you figured you might stop looking altogether.

Zag’s update had been present in your inbox ever since returning to work; with each read through – which, now, you’d have read a hundred times – you felt time pass by. Each night you spent time tucked away here, the cold tile permeating the scrub pants you now wore; the uniform you’d had on when you arrived back on the Finalizer had been too tattered to reuse. Not that you wanted to wear it; in those tattered, bloodied threads lay the obvious truth of how entirely you had failed at the only assignment you had ever been trusted with.

Trusted. The thought made you shiver. Yes. Trusted. Past tense. In every sense it could be. Thus, folded into yourself, away from prying eyes or well-meaning friends, you scrolled aimlessly up and down the message. Though its existence annoyed you, knowing full well that there was no empathy or genuine concern behind the decision to delay the trial, it also brought you ease to know this portion of your life was almost over. Again you were embracing the possibility of your death, only this time rooted in hatred for yourself, not Kylo Ren.

“Alright, well, can you tell her-,”

“Tell her to call you. Got it. Do every night.” One of your coworkers had grown exasperated with Mason – or was it with you? Either way, peeking through the vent slats, you spied Mason’s legs drag out of view. It made your heart fall, feeling more disgusted with yourself each day; it was this confusing combination of feeling a pull to run after him, to apologize to him with every breath you had left, only for that initial urgency to be swallowed by the knowledge that the action would be futile.

With tired eyes, not having gotten more than two hours of unbroken sleep since the sixteen you’d woken from, you looked to your left wrist. It was a routine gesture, pointless in the fact you had not worn the watch since finding it on your bedside table. Much like your uniform, only agonizingly amplified, the sight of the gadget inspired a hollowness in your chest. It remained in a pillowcase, hidden atop the bed you’d claimed. Each night you toyed with it, thumbed at the lifeless screen and wondered if it would ever offer another flicker; each night you caught the hazy reflection of two unfamiliar eyes, finding only the remnants of shattered promises staring back at you.

A sigh crept into your lungs when you stood, arms stretching and hands smoothing back your hair before going to activate the door. It hissed open without your indication; before you could question how, two hands pushed you out of the way and sent you flying face first into the storage shelves. Nose first, actually; the collision rang through your ears, pain throbbing in prominence as you stumbled for stability, arms widespread and eyes pinched shut.

“Oh! You have to be kidding!” Copper crept down your upper lip, cascading over your sharp tongue, foggy eyes opening to blood-stained fingers. “Watch where you’re going, jeez!”

Away from you sounded the door as it shut, but that wasn’t the sound that alarmed you. Across the room, near the sink – at least you hoped it was near the sink – came the horrendous retching that could only indicate vomit. The longer you listened, though, all the while blindly searching for a package of gauze, you found it wasn’t vomit, but an attempt towards it; echoes of dry heaves wracked the room, vomit absent even as the stranger continued in their effort toward expulsion.

A spill of winces left you, a grimace following suit when you tipped your head back, blood draining down your throat. You found a box of gauze squares and tore it open, peeling away a layer and rolling it into a cone before pushing it into one nostril. Vessels pounded against the material, injury soaking into it as you caught your breath.

“I’m so sorry,” a familiar voice said, groggy and breathless. “The refresher was occupied, and the occupancy indicator wasn’t on.” She took another breath, gasping back spit. “I figured the sink in here would do.”

Another person you’d been avoiding. Talia. Sick. As she would be, of course. It was something you’d fought thoughts on; it was too confusing, too unnerving to put the pieces you’d been offered together. Hux had left her room, had been so distraught. Talia had seized and ended up in the medbay. Armitage. Stars, how that word haunted you in the way it left her paling lips. She’d been so disoriented, so scared. Glassy eyes and green pallor. And the person she’d asked for was Armitage.

With these thoughts, dizzying as they had become, came the image of the very thing that tied them all together: that square-cut, printed, glossy ultrasound picture. Between nightmares of Robbie and desperately trying to find any amount of sleep, you saw it clear in your head, remembered how you’d lost your ability to stand when you first considered the reality of it. It all made sense clinically; the symptoms, the tangible evidence showing a yolk sac, the patient identifiers framing the monochrome image.

But, when you remembered running into Hux, remembered the ghost in his eyes and felt the rather unsettling demeanor – one not marked with errant hatred – he’d met you with, it all started to blur. Jumble. Your mind rejecting the thought that Talia and Hux-

Talia mewled, your eyes opening to find white knuckles outfitting a vise grip over the sink’s metal edge. The fluorescent lights lining the ceiling made it all too easy to see how sick she really was. Tears glinted down her cheeks, her hair dull in its tousled bun, a string of spit straying from her bottom lip; there was a suggestion of green just below the surface of her skin, exhaustion evident in the lavender drapes below her eyes.

A shaky breath left her before she rested against the sink, elbows bent and fingers rolling over her temples. For a moment there was a deafening silence, one that strangled you and emphasized the throbbing in your nose when you stopped breathing. It dissipated when Talia groaned, her head drooping and stance shifting.

“At least shift is done, right?” She sounded like she was talking to anyone. She didn’t know it was you. She didn’t know you knew.

Swallowing, dropping your hand from your face, you tried to think of anything to say. But nothing would come. And, considering how little time you had left to know her – execution or not – you saw no point in frivolous small talk.

“How far along are you?” It was a low rasp; frail in its existence yet bludgeoning the quiet that had preceded it.

She didn’t look up, but you knew she recognized your voice; her every muscle stalled, hair even stilling as your words sank into her. It was the first thing you’d said to her since she’d seized. In her silent shock it dawned on you that it had not been long since you’d been in a situation similar to this; the two of you, a pitting silence, a mess – obvious and blaring – surrounding you.

Only this mess was not something that could be cleaned. This mess existed outside all you had once thought to consider. Though this room was less gruesome in appearance, it held that same suffocated dread, carried with it the reminder that everything could change without a moment’s notice. Watching the color return to her cheeks, absentmindedly brushing your fingertips across the raised marks atop your thigh, it hit you how true that fact was.

A small sound – a swallow – filled the room, a sigh to accompany it. “Six weeks. I think, at least. Maybe more.” She stood then, crossing her arms and leaning against the sink. A wall stood between you and her, invisible yet so entirely present. “No one knows.” Her jaw fluttered at its hinge. The wall was for her; a façade, a crutch. She was scared.

The door lit cool shivers down your back, hands digging into your pockets, a weak attempt at a smile pulling at your face. “Congratulations,” you offered first, forgetting the circumstances before seeing her eyes fall to the floor. “Or not, I guess.”

She kept her eyes down. “I’m not showing, and I’ve been good about sneaking away to throw up, so…”

“Last week,” you said, her stare coming back to you, “after Starkiller. I fainted after arriving back here, and after I woke up,” I washed the Commander of the First Order’s hair and cried to his comatose body about how my life is falling apart, “I just had to know you were okay, so I visited you.”

“I don’t remember seeing you. I actually… How did you even know I had been admitted to the medbay?”

“You were asleep. I didn’t want to wake you.” You chewed your cheek, recounting any of those 48 hours made your pulse jump. “You weren’t well off when I found you, before they took you to the medbay, so I wouldn’t expect you to remember me being there.”

Her brow dipped for half a second, a crack creeping into that wall. “I didn’t know you found me. It’s difficult for me to even recall most of that day.” Her shoulders dropped, stature less rigid now. “Thank you, though.”

You nodded, not entirely sure why she felt it necessary to thank you. “Yeah. So, you were sleeping and I saw the tests ordered on your board. And then I found your ultrasound on the floor.”

Her eyes were so distant, pupils housing a familiar ghost. “It must have fallen when I was sleeping.” Her lips parted with the whisper, egregious loneliness overwhelming the thought.

It felt like the floor would fall out at any second, the interaction so fragile. Watching her with intent, measuring her reactions, you charged ahead into territory you’d been afraid to enter for so long.

“Talia,” you started, buying more time to think on your phrasing. Her focus startled back from wherever her mind had taken her. “I mean, maybe this is ridiculous, and maybe I’m so far off base in even suggesting it…”

Her arms dropped when a hand reached to tuck a collection of stray hair behind her ear, nose sniffing, teeth pulling at her bottom lip. She took her eyes from yours, breath picking up. That wall she stood behind was wearing.

You couldn’t stand beating around the bush any longer, sick of theorizing about it all. It fled out, no breath to separate any of it. “I’ll just say it: Hux was leaving your room when I came around. And he was being weird. So weird. I mean, he was being… would I say nice? Maybe just, less awful? He complimented me. And it was so weird, but I thought I would give him the benefit of the doubt because, you know, he’d just lost a lot of men. But then it was you in the room and I.. he was so distraught? That is barely the right word, but I mean? He just wasn’t General Hux. And then I found the ultrasound and remembered how you’d asked for ‘Armitage’ earlier when I’d found you, and-,”

A weep signaled the destruction of the wall she’d thrown up, hands clawing into her eyes and lungs heaving full of ragged, desperate air. “Oh, please tell me you didn’t tell him! He can’t- I don’t!” Sobs rolled off of her between each exclamation. “I haven’t told him. I don’t know how. I- he’s so evil! I can’t believe I ever slept with him!”

Seeing her come apart, feeling the guilt she did in every word she cried, you could only think to take her into your arms. In your hold you felt her shaking and the pain roll off of her in thick, grating waves. It was familiar, like she, too, had been existing alone; you had not noticed, so buried in your own avoidance that you had not thought to consider hers.

“I’m so sorry! I’m so- I’m so sorry! It makes me so mad that- ugh!”

“Hey, stop. Slow down,” you soothed, hugging her tighter. “You have nothing to apologize to me for. You’ve done nothing wrong, okay?”

“No, I have! I slept with my Master! And got pregnant! And he’s such a fucking jerk! He’s the whole reason you’re losing your career, you know? And I had sex with him! And I feel- felt real things for him!” A breath stuttered into her lungs. “I never meant for it to go any further than that first night, and then… fuck.”

It burned down to your marrow that you had the power to comfort her, knew everything she was feeling even if it wasn’t hatred that left you crying at night. She would be embraced in knowing you had also slept with your Master; it would minimize the guilt she now felt. To tell her you had fallen for Kylo Ren could help her know that she wasn’t alone.

Instead, feeling her tears accumulate on your sleeve, struggling to keep in your own, you kept quiet. She would not learn how you had burned so bright for your commander. It was selfish, but it was necessary. Self-preservation. She would be testifying against you, taking the stand right after Hux. Her not knowing would do no harm; it would keep her from having to consider or commit perjury. Talia now joined Mason, another soul to protect, another person you would lie to.

Several minutes passed before she stopped trembling, another few before the tears stopped staining your uniform. Humanity existed in these moments, and though you would hide how you knew the advice you would offer her, you knew she needed to hear it. A part of you did, too.

Moving your arms from her back and grasping both her shoulders, you locked eyes with her and forced her to see that you somehow understood her pain. “There is nothing to feel guilty about. Not that you slept with him, or that you got pregnant. Not that you felt things for him or that you still do.” Her eyes shut at that, a fresh streamlet dragging into her mouth. “You can still love him even if he has done awful things.”

“Gosh, how can you say that? He’s ruined your life,” she shuddered, grimacing before looking back up to you.

“I made the choice to take that blood. I had a choice,” your throat tightened, not knowing if you were reciting the words from their origin or from your dream, “I made the one I thought was the best at the time. Hux may be an ass in the way he has gone about the issue, but it’s not like he wouldn’t have reported me.”

She sobbed your name, confusion and hurt wrought in her features. “That blood saved that patient. You saved that patient. We both know that. You saved him and you’re suffering for it and I’m the one who wrote the incident report. He made me write it. Such a fucking bastard.”

Just like that, whatever weird internal truce you’d made with Hux disappeared. “Yeah, that is a dick thing to do, I will say that.”

She wiped at her cheeks, shaking her head. “I should have lied on that report.”

“And gotten both of us in trouble? That isn’t a solution.”

“If I had, you would be less alone in this. And I wouldn’t have to testify against you.” Talia’s eyes shot to the ceiling and back, frustration hot on her breath. “It’s just so-,”

“Unfair. I know. I have… I’ve beaten myself up about it too much not to know that.” This conversation was too similar to those you’ve held inwardly. It was becoming repetitive to keep sulking over something you could not change. But Talia, if she wanted, could change her situation. “We went through the same program, got the same schooling, I know you know your options here.”

She chewed her cheek, shaking her head. A long drag of breath found its way into her chest, releasing when your hands fell to your sides. “This is where you find out how stupid I am.”

It pulled at your heart to hear how hard she was being on herself. “You aren’t stupid. And if you are? Could’ve fooled me with your class rank and just general existence.”

A laugh, weak but not acrid. “Academics were easy. Career is easy. This life stuff? Messy. Complicated. I feel like no matter what I do, it will blow up in my face.” That earlier distance glazed over her stare, a glimmer of yearning present in the way her eyebrows pinched. “And what I want…think I want? I’m not sure it’s even possible.”

“What do you want?”

Talia shut her eyes, capitulation and indignance set in her features, jaw flexed. “I haven’t spoken to him since that night,” she whispered. “He watched me fill out that report. I was sobbing in front of him and he said nothing.” A hand smoothed over her hair and clutched into her bun, lips quivering for a moment. “I didn’t even know until last week. I woke up for a few minutes and they started talking about all that had happened – fainting and seizures and blood tests – and they immediately wheeled me down to have an ultrasound to confirm the hCG results and urinalysis.”

She paused, growing in distance the more she shared. “Was it just your electrolytes that caused the seizure?”

“Yeah. Yes.” She blinked back to the present. “Belkar actually said I was severely dehydrated and that my metabolic panel reflected that.” Talia was dancing between two timeframes; gentleness framed her face when revisiting that of the past. Something so delicate in her stare; adoration cusping on hope. “I always told myself I would never have children. It scared me seeing how sick they could become when we had our unit on pediatrics. I’d never wanted to feel so helpless as the parents I saw during clinical.”

It almost winded you to watch a single tear slip down her cheek, allowing her silence during her pause before she looked up at you, desperation drowning her eyes. She couldn’t find – or, maybe, did not want to believe – the words that overwhelmed her. “What changed?” You knew, but she needed to hear it for herself.

Her lips had become puffy, teeth pulling at the bottom one. She reached into the front pocket of her scrub dress, pulling from it that square print, only now with rolled, worn corners. “I know it’s early and there are so many things that can go wrong and I know I had been drinking before I knew, but…” A swallow bobbed her throat, a fond smile forming when she toyed with the scan. “When they handed this to me? Something just, I don’t know, came into view.”

A surge of immense pain coiled into you. In her reverie you saw yourself, realized how fortunate her situation was; she had something she wanted and even though it was complicated, she had a choice in the matter.

Again, her mind had wandered, distraction framing her tone; her brows pinched together for a second, a question sparking from her memories. “Have you ever wanted something so much, and maybe you didn’t fully understand it, but you just knew? For whatever reason, this was the thing you would do everything in your power to make possible? To have what you want, no matter how daunting or nonsensical it seemed?”

“Yeah,” you choked out, coughing against the new strain on your throat, “I think so.” Talia had that ability, though, and it cracked against your skull how helpless you were to go after what you wanted.

“You said that I could still love him if he’s done awful things,” she quoted, her attention returning to you. “I don’t love him. I don’t think I really know him that well. But…” She shook her head, shoulders shrugging and a puff of breath leaving her nose. “I miss him. It’s so dumb, but the bastard is nice to be around when he isn’t buried in politics. When he’s just a person. When he isn’t the General. When he’s just—” another smile, similar to her earlier one “—Armitage.”

“That has to be the strangest part of this whole thing.” A small laugh bubbled past your lips. It had been so long since the last one. “Armitage.”

“It was very odd at first. But I’m not going to cry out General, oh please General! when I’m cumming, so I got over it.”

Dumbfounded, all you could do was gawk at her candor. It warmed you, though, feeling like that first night you’d hung out with her. A good memory. Her cheeks pinked in your silence and the sight pulled you straight into a ruckus of laughter, tears – born in pain, falling from humor – and lightheartedness. It was short lived, but Talia joined in your fit; abashed giggles leaving her smile-tight face.

“I mean, I feel like it would be weirder if you were sleeping with Commander Ren.” Talia jabbed at your shoulder. “Calling him… Kylo? That just feels downright wrong.”

Instantaneously, your high fizzling into nothing before her, you found yourself right where you were when you’d said your first goodbye. Ky. It wilted your heart, shrouded whatever glimpse of happiness you’d just caught. Talia was too lost in the joke to notice you’d backed away from her, face turned so she couldn’t see the suffering rise to the surface.

“Ha, yeah. Wrong. So, so wrong.” You cleared your throat, brushing past the weak attempt at nonchalance, ready to be off this subject. “So you miss him? You miss… Armitage? Yeah, no. I’m gonna stick to Hux, if that’s alright?”

A final laugh lit from her chest, Talia waving you off. “That’s fine, of course. And yeah. I miss him.” Her brow furrowed. “Do you think it could work? Me and him, and—” she gestured down to her abdomen, placing the scan back in her pocket “—this?”

This was none of your business, and you doubted anything you could say would help her, but there was genuine curiosity in her voice. There was respect in how she wanted your insight into something so intimate and personal.

A sigh preceded your reply, unsure if you were speaking to her or yourself. “I think… Just as you said earlier: no matter if its daunting or nonsensical or even completely impossible – if you want it and you are willing to do everything in your power to get it?”

Hope lit behind her eyes, bloomed in her chest at the suggestion. “It could work.”

Struggle hid behind a mask of hope. Of course she did not know how it pained you to offer words that would never exist for yourself, and it wasn’t fair to ruin her moment of clarity with the bitter bite of ill-placed jealousy. There was no part of you that envied her condition, but instead what it entailed; you coveted her ability to choose the life she wanted.

Talia shook her head free, a giggle warm on her breath. “We should get out of here. Night shift is gonna run us off soon. You have the time?”

“Uh, not readily available. But I’m sure it’s way past shift change.” You started toward the door.

“Hey, I noticed you’ve been staying in the on-call rooms?”

“Oh.” It surprised you that she’d noticed. The knowledge warmed you to your core, both from embarrassment and appreciation. “Yeah, I know you guys have been swamped down here with all the fallout from Starkiller, so I just thought I’d stay near to help out.”

She tsked, your name a mocked plead. “You are Starkiller fallout. You need to rest. Especially now that you can. I got an update from Zag about the trial. You’ve got, what? Three or four days before Canto Bight? Seven until the initial hearing?”

She’d done the same math you’d gone over at length. Hearing it from someone else’s mouth made it that much more real. Frightening. “I know. I do, I know. But what’s wrong with spending them here?”

“You know as much as I do that working constantly drains the absolute soul from you. Even just working these past three days I have been dying for my time off.”

“Yeah, but you have a reason to be tired.”

“I’m pregnant. You survived a planet exploding all the while keeping the Commander of the First Order alive. Are you forgetting that?”

Talia, I wish I could forget all of it. “No, I’m just-,”

“And I know you’ve been blowing off that McCarty guy. He’s a physician, right?”

Maybe you’d been less discreet in your efforts toward avoidance than you thought. It felt like being caught; this web of lies was becoming a strain, less of a benefit, a hinderance rather than protection. “He’s… Mason doesn’t know what he’s asking for, you know?”

“No, I don’t know.” Talia strode to your side, stern eyes on your own. “Look,” a breath softened her demeanor, “whatever happened on Starkiller, whatever you saw or felt – it’s affecting you. I don’t know what it is, and I’m not asking you to tell me – though, you can tell me anything – but at some point it becomes a choice to remain stagnant in grief.”

“Hey!” Talia had always been blunt, but her audacity now clawed at your patience.

“Okay, sorry, yes that was very harsh,” she placed a firm hand on your shoulder, “but you are the one who made me realize that. Here. Now.”

Tears threatened but remained stuck in your throat. “Like you said, I’m alone in this. I have to be.”

“The way I see it, you aren’t-,”

“Talia, I am.”

“You aren’t. Me being here and that physician coming here every night is proof of that.” You met her with silence. She shrugged. “You could have left me to deal with my issues alone, but you saw me and knew I couldn’t.” More silence on your part, her stare flicking between your eyes. “I see you. You can’t deal with this alone. I won’t let you.”

You fought to hide them, but one by one fell the tears you had not permitted before. For so long it seemed you had been shielding others from hurt, ensuring a safety they were not aware they needed. Talia was offering that to you, now. Rejection was the first instinct to kick in, feelings of doubt and thoughts of I do not deserve this blaring in urgency.

But then she spoke, naming what you had been too scared to confront. “Choose to not be alone. It doesn’t make you a bad person,” her hand left you, overwhelming assurance in her smile, “You’ve been strong for long enough, for so many others. Let someone be strong for you for once.”

The next breath you took was a million times lighter than any you’d had since seeing Kylo those days ago. She really did see you, more than she could ever know. It was imperfect, of course; you weren’t sure anyone would ever be fully aware of how much pain you were in, there was so much you could never share. It was her offer that brought you solace; it may be superficial for you, but Talia was in your corner, and she believed, knew, that it meant something. In her eyes, pooled with intensity, you heard her loud and clear: that oath, born in blood, was renewed here and now, its strength indelible even in silence.

“Now,” she activated the door, its hiss shivering down your spine, “I think Mason would love it if you caught up with him.” The two of you stepped into the hall, already beginning to part paths. “I’d invite you to stay with me but I, uh…”

“You’ll be otherwise predisposed?”

“…We’ll see,” rose bloomed in her cheeks, “I don’t think I’ll tell him. Not tonight. Not yet.”

“Ah,” you sighed, a yawn slipping past.

“Get some sleep! And maybe just… get some, you know?”

The joke registered too late, her paces halfway down the hall before you called out, “Oh. Oh. No, I’m not with- we aren’t anything more than friends.” Not sure if she even heard you, she waved behind her before turning a corner. Well. That’ll need clarifying.

Heat flared in your cheeks, several pairs of eyes weighing on your shoulders at the outburst. Would there ever be a day when you were not embarrassing yourself on this unit? Given this would be the last shift before going to Canto Bight, probably not. Eyes tracking your steps, deciding to surprise Mason instead of call him, you found your way to the on-call room where your entire world was set up; remnants of a past one, at least.

In it you gathered your belongings – a pair of back up scrubs, a toiletries bag, and the lifeless watch. There was a hesitance before placing the device with the other items. Six nights you had spent staring at its blank face, resenting the stranger you’d come to see. Glancing your face before placing it in the bag, you did a double-take. In the most minute details, barely there, you found a familiarity in the eyes you met; they were less dull, something like life or light peeking through the surface.

You dropped the gadget into your pocket, gathered your uniform into the bag, and took a final glance at the shelter you’d sought amidst a storm that had nearly consumed you. Even though nothing had truly mended, there was comfort in the absence of solitude; in the face of probable death, the explicit knowledge that you were not alone made it less daunting. Less impossible.

A final breath brought the door to a close, footsteps leading you into the vast expanse of the Finalizer. The change in air was nice, lungs welcoming the difference and cluing you into the fact you still had a gauze square shoved up your nose. It took a tug to pull it from its place, a sting pinching at the sudden release of pressure.

“Shit,” you hissed, feeling a new stream of warmth trickle past your lips. Two fingers pressed to your mouth, testing for a mirage but coming back with the real thing, red creaks splintering into the ridges of your fingerprint. Without thinking you wiped it down your scrub top, forgetting you were no longer clothed in camouflaging black, but instead unforgiving grey. “Fuck!”

“Wasn’t this how I left you here the last time?”

The airlock must have snapped, lungs solid, muscles frozen. Tension seized your ribcage, pulse plummeting, blood bounding against tuned ears. Every bit of moisture abandoned your mouth. Every bodily process you could think of stopped.

There was no modulation, each word raw, bare, and clear as the last time you had heard their founder. At least, the last time you’d heard it while awake. It was less haunted now, filled not with insidious rage but rather bone-chilling earnest.

“I suppose not, given it’s your blood tonight.”

He drew nearer, boots heavy and steps paced to perfection, the rhythm of his stride an echo of your heart. Kylo Ren was less than three paces from you and all you could do was endure the sensation of a singular ruby droplet following the line of your artery, dragging past your clavicle, and ghosting the skin over your sternum. The crimson trail began to dry, steps no longer sounding when you forced yourself to look up.

Chaos tore into the base of your spine, every nerve ending firing at the sight of his bare face, no helmet to veil the visage you had memorized. The black strip rested in prominence, striking through his features; in it you found a curious attraction, finding it fit him. The wound was less severe now, healing with time. He wore no helmet, but that by no means meant there was no mask keeping him at a distance only he knew the measure of.

“Where have you been, officer?” Cyanosis was a likely reality, breath still evading you as each word fell in baritone; petrified pupils not knowing where to focus. “Your services finally required, and yet you were nowhere to be found.”

Nothing. No words. No sound. No thoughts. Barren in every aspect of cognizance, you remained silent and still, only knowing to perceive him for what he was: superior.

A twitch at his brow, a narrowing of his eyes. Studying. Testing. “How unfortunate; starved for words when they would actually count.” His injury moved fluidly against his words, a beauty in the way it ebbed with each syllable.

A ping sounded at your waist, commlink buzzing in your pocket.

Languid, Kylo’s eyes dipped toward the sound. “You should get that,” he drawled, eyes twitching before conquering yours once more, “could be important.”

His tone haunted you, demeanor too suggestive. You swallowed against a dry throat, locked in his stare, knuckles brushing your watch when you took out your commlink. It trembled in your grip, shocked muscles heavy with weakness. His concentration had become adamant, palpable, an eyebrow prompting your attention to whatever message had triggered the alarm.

Concerning the defendant,

In the week since the previous correspondence, it has come to be that the defendant is to partake in nursing practice during her time on Canto Bight. This allows the Board of Physicians ease in collecting surveillance imperative to their final judgement.

Commander Ren’s decision to bar the defendant from external practice has been nullified as to not contradict this process.

In permitting the defendant’s practice while on trial, the objective to obtain a new provider has been benched. Due to this, the defendant shall remain assigned to her current Master while residing on Canto Bight…

At last, breath flourished your lungs, an inadvertent gasp thrusting a glutton of oxygen into your airway. Crazed eyes darted over the message for any sign of a mistake that would prove it to be falsified; the only thing you could find was finality, a document containing the proposed schedule attached at the end of the message.

A buzz washed through your brain, overstimulated by the information, everything around you suddenly all too close and bright. Jaw bound shut but still trembling, eyes low and unfocused, a familiar pressure flicked just under your chin. The Force tipped your face upward, pupils strict in their position, passing first over a tense jaw and landing at last on the challenge that lay behind Kylo Ren’s glare.

“I’ll see you on Canto Bight, officer.” A serpentine smirk slithered along his lips, one stride bringing him so his face was hidden, shoulder linked with yours, and fingers jut out to graze at the hidden permanence atop your left thigh. His voice, an onslaught of emptiness, a cold threat, suffocated all that surrounded you. “You wanted to give me more? Prove it.”

[tanadrin]

Like, I think I can handle people who merely disagree with me, even if they disagree with me in critical and fundamental ways; even if they hold political views I think are morally indefensible, but smug sanctimoniousness is much harder for me to put up with. Also, one virtue I appreciate in this little corner of tumblr is finding lots of people to follow who like to take ideas seriously, even if they disagree with them. If you link an article that fails to make its point, they’ll think about, and post about, why, and there’s a certain effort to overcome inferential gaps where they exist, in order to have a genuine exchange of ideas. One person who I really appreciate for this is @jadagul, who I think it’s safe to say I disagree with in pretty significant ways, but who I’ve always felt engages in discussions about politics in good faith.

Going to the trouble of reblogging something I post with “ugh, I gave up reading this because it’s full of strawmen,” with no elaboration, isn’t just engaging in bad faith, it’s pretty irritating. If you don’t to discuss it or engage with it, great! You don’t have to! If you do, more than “this is bad but I refuse to elaborate any further” is at best a non-contribution; at worse, an admission you can’t come up with any coherent arguments as to why something is wrong, you’re just annoyed that someone could Be Wrong on the Internet, and want to make that known.

And the specific irritation I have with reactionaries who spend their time going “oh you poor decadent, corrupt, sinful, wretches” on tumblr is that, hey, you’re in this mudpit with us, buddy! This is a website for weird porn and discussions of fucking dead chickens, don’t pretend like you’re somehow above it all. If you want a separate godly community go have the courage of your convictions and spend your day in the fields, and come home to a log cabin without wifi like the old-style Anabaptists still do. But sitting around tut-tutting while you pretend not to enjoy all the conveniences of modernity (and self-righteously passing judgement on everyone around you) just makes you a mean old church lady, not a warrior for the Christian faith.

I grew up Catholic, and I have known more than my share of people who are religious. The ones who impressed me–for whom religion seemed to be a force for good in their lives, at least so far as I knew them–have been people who are genuinely humble both in themselves and about the things they attach themselves to. Epistemically humble, too: the kind of people who, if you asked them, would tell you why they believed, what drew them to faith, but not claim that either they, or their religion, necessarily had all the answers. I don’t think their faith was weaker for it, either: I think they genuinely recognized that there are a lot of different paths by which people gain spiritual insight in life, and spiritual fulfillment, and one reason I probably considered myself Catholic longer than I would have otherwise is that I had experience with religious people who had very little of the doctrinal arrogance, or the dogmatic cruelty, of the institution they represented.

(The arrogant, judgemental, and self-righteous people of religion I have known have always been laypeople. There are probably plenty of people in religious orders who are assholes, and I reckon you probably get the same mix of asshole-to-non-asshole people as in the general population, but it’s been a funny fact of my life that more of the professional believers I have personally known have been open-minded, curious, and compassionate than the people who were, as it were, amateurs.)

So anybody who claims treating gay people like sinful perverts is a necessary consequence of their religious beliefs, or who thinks that the sign of this sick, sinful, fallen world is women having the same rights and social status as men, who thinks “decadence” or irreligiousness or gender-nonconformity are signs of moral failure of the individual or society or both, strikes me as someone who wants to believe these things regardless, not someone who was reluctantly led to these conclusions by religion and finds them heavy burdens to bear. They strike me as just another instantiation of the purse-lipped nose-in-the-air hypocrite, who has to feel better than other people to feel better in themselves, and would find a reason to do so regardless; religion just happens to be their current excuse.

[desirableendings]

Cancel culture

I’m so upset right now. I’m gonna try to put my thoughts in a coherent form but I’m afraid I won’t be completely capable.

This is about cancel culture and about how unhealthy and toxic it is both in the realm of cancelling people and cancelling works of fiction.

This is about in particular two situations that triggered this reaction on me that I consider both really dangerous, and though both probably came from an initial place of worry and accountability what they both achieved was the opposite.

I also come to tumblr, where probably almost no one will read me, but where I know cancel culture it’s more in hype. This is why I want this text to be on my blog, for anyone that follows me and anyone that might come after to see.

I’ll start with the problem of cancelling fiction. Because there’s a difference between being critic and wanting something to disappear from the face of the earth and fall into oblivion. You might think I’m exaggerating or using hyperbole to establish an argument, but I’m not. Cancel culture fueled by rage doesn’t look for reparation, doesn’t look for growth, doesn’t look for real accountability it looks to burn and destroy. Cancel culture it’s fueled by shame because those who foment it cannot stand something problematic to exist, but even worse cannot stand that to exist within them. Now tell me, how is this not close to burning books, something most conservative cultures have done several times when disagreeing with a particular posture or when fearful of the reaches of fiction to critical and open minded thinking. 

Fiction is not there to paint you pretty worlds in which every single character it’s perfect for you, fiction it’s not there to be morally acceptable to you, fiction is not there to rewrite history and tell you an unproblematic version of it. Fiction is there to be read critically, to be interpreted, to be questioned and to question as well, that’s why it is highly feared by dictatorships and extreme governments. You read something (and by this I mean book, tv show, movie, audio, ANY type of fiction that its read when its interpreted) and you can point its flaws, see its blind spots, learn from its characters and then maybe get inspired and write something that speaks more closely to you. What cancel culture does, though, is not even read it critically, but just throw it to the fire pit and watch it burn while warning anyone else to not ever read it again, not form your own opinions, not create new critics, NOT held it accountable, because how can someone hold something accountable without having the chance of reading it? No, just ignore it, forget it, burn it, because it’s problematic.

My example for this is Hamilton. I’ve been hearing for ages that it has become problematic and thus it should be canceled, but until now I haven’t been able to reach the arguments behind it. But of course with the whole release from Disney everything exploded, and by everything I mean a weird mixture between the people that want to cancel Lin Manuel Miranda and the ones that want to cancel Hamilton, and the ones that mix both and conclude the best way of doing it it’s canceling Hamilton first. For the sake of this argument I will focus only in the canceling of Hamilton which gets based in four principal arguments: 1. It portrays as main characters problematic people who were real life slavers, and shows them instead as the heroes founding fathers of the USA, without addressing their problems one by one. 2. Lin Manuel Miranda’s relationship with Puerto Rico, Puerto Rico’s policies and the way he brought Hamilton to Puerto Rico. 3. Some well done critical articles that don’t cancel either, but rather present what happened and what both Lin Manuel Miranda and Hamilton should be held accountable critically, but instead are used to cancel both of them. 4. The fact that Alexander Hamilton, the real figure, it’s portrayed free of charge of also engaging in problematic behaviors specially those related to slavery and the creation of banks and kind of the capitalist culture of the US.

Now, in the sake of criticism and holding things accountable but NOT cancelling them, let’s address each one by one: 1. Hamilton its based in real people that were problematic, and slavers and racist, BUT that also coincidentally fought for the independence of the US and were the founding fathers, and there’s nothing you can do about it. You can cancel them and want to forget they existed but the truth is that the US it’s what it is because of them and their actions, and actually most of today’s issues with race and capitalism are because of that history, and until we all accept the US comes from that we wont be able to change it and move on, REMEMBERING were it came from. Believe me, being a person of color that comes from colonialism and that had to come to the hard truth that I am what I am because of the people that came and killed and raped and stole, and that I even carry part of their blood because most latin American population is mixed race, and that just is what it is, I understand how hard but necessary this process is. Do I think Christopher Colombus should be praised each year and celebrated in statues all across the world? HELL NO, do I think we should all kill him in our memories forever and cancel him? HELL NO, because I come from that, it’s part of who I am, and I’ll remember him, but holding him accountable for the genocide and exploitation of the land and people of America, and for in the end forming part of the mixed race I belong to. Denying or canceling this or him would be canceling a part of myself that I HAVE TO LIVE WITH FOR THE REST OF MY LIFE. So, yes. The founding fathers were problematic, hell yeah, they were racist as well, but the musical Hamilton addresses this in some ways that the story Lin Manuel Miranda is trying to tell allows, without only focusing on it because that’s one of its flaws we have to hold the musical accountable for even if its out of the reach of the musical. What the musical actually DOES is that it casts people of color in their roles as a criticism and a way of saying that the US of now is not the white US they were trying to make back then, and that the power should shift, and OF COURSE he is criticizing slavery not only by the verses in the Cabinet Battle that everyone seemed to conveniently forget, but also in this subversion of casting and the way he decided to tell this very traditional part of history through RAP, a genre that comes and its largely belonging to black culture. This is actually a clever way of holding a history you cannot change, accountable for its previous violences, and also calling out current violences that people will only come to notice by watching the musical and questioning themselves about why they expect other cast, music and history, and that’s all in the nuances you can only get from READING through it. 

While we are at it let’s address point 4: I don’t know which musical these people has been seeing but Hamilton is hardly a saint, neither presented as one, in the musical, he is a tragic character at best, he has a lot of qualities but these same qualities are the ones that condemn him to disgrace and ultimately early death. But he is mostly shown as a human, and I honestly don’t know in which part of cancel culture “human” started being equivalent to pure and free of charge but that’s far from it. Human means conscious, capable of mistakes and capable of causing hurt, but also capable of growing and reparation that heals oneself and others. Do I wished the musical would have been more critical of the way Hamilton introduced a capitalist culture as the best one and the way he criticized slavery but did nothing about it personally... yes, but the only way I can make this criticism and hold it accountable is because I watch and listened to it, took the good and identified the bad, and recognized both.

The second and third point have absolutely nothing to do with the musical whatsoever, but with its creator and the poor interpretation of proper criticism. And thus is that what should be held accountable, Lin Manuel Miranda as a person, and the situations that happened related to him and his decisions. Now, about the link of profit and “supporting” Hamilton, by all means don’t do this if you think him and the people involved (because a musical it’s never done by just one person), doesn’t deserve it. I, for one, I’m certain that Disney does not need or deserve a single dollar more, they are quite rich already. But not watching Hamilton when its eventually published in Disney + is miles away from erasing Hamilton from existing, not listening to its songs and forgetting about it because it is problematic. These last things are the equivalent of burning it, and I recommend listening to the song Burn from the same musical to learn about what fire does to words.

Now, the problem of cancelling people. If in fiction cancelling it’s equivalent to burning books in human beings its equivalent to murder, and I’m not exaggerating here either, because it is. And again here there’s a difference between holding people accountable for their mistakes and just erasing them from the face of the earth because they fucked up. And here the same problem as before stands, if you cancel them you are also taking away the opportunity of holding them accountable, because if there’s no one there to listen, then why would they even bother saying sorry and trying to fix their wrongs. Basically, cancelling people not only murders them but also gives them a free pass to be someone else and not repair those they hurt with their problematic behavior before. Like, what the fuck do you think happens in peace treaties after wars and process of reparation and restitution are in place? THE OPPOSITE OF CANCEL CULTURE. In reparation processes after a lot of violence has been done to victims, the process is to listen and hear words of repentance, that help victims heal and forgive, so BOTH parts can continue living a better life. Because turns out in the end we are all human beings that want to live and continue to live and we only get ONE life to do so, and if you take the chance for a person to live their lives, then how is that not taking also their lives away? How is not giving the possibility of growth and forgiveness not burning them alive, as if you get to choose over their future??

My example for this case is Jenna Marbles, and how ridiculous and upsetting is that people really wanted to cancel her from mistakes she made AGES ago, that she clearly grew from, as it’s evident from the person she is now and her everyday current actions, and also from the way she is clearly ashamed and upset about it, as it’s clear from the fact she had private the offensive videos so people didn’t reach them and get hurt by them. Jenna is a human being, that’s also clearly hurt by what she did but mostly from the fact that no matter what you do, how you repair, how you grow, the internet is fixated in letting you drown in your mistakes forever, and I’m sorry but how is that not killing someone and not letting them live their life to be a better person? How is that not as problematic as the so judged original behaviors?

In the end I just want for all of us to stop being so hypocritical at aiming judgements and cancelations at everyone else before looking at ourselves, our own violences and problems and understanding if we could grow and be critical of them to continue living, then so can others.

How about we let them do so.

[themiscyra1983]

The Elephant In The Room

Let me preface all this by saying I do not have time for assholes. If you come at me with insults and contempt, I will block you.

The other day on Twitter I said the Harry Potter books aren’t good. I said this to a friend but I guess some people just keep an eye out for whatever Harry Potter shit pops up on Twitter and/or the algorithm just likes to spit in people’s eyes because hoooo boy people saw and lost their minds. I blocked two people over it because they decided to be assholes, and had a somewhat terse conversation with someone who was more politely insistent before going, finally, “I’m glad you find joy in something I no longer care for” and putting an end to the conversation.

It’s no particular secret that I’m in the fandom, and prior to J.K. Rowling going full, ‘no plausible deniability here’ transphobe, I’d bought my share of official merch. Frankly I should have stopped that sooner, but it took getting figuratively slapped in the face multiple times before I finally admitted Rowling’s ignorance carried a distinct air of willfulness and malice. Anyway I still HAVE the stuff I bought before, the Ravenclaw crap, the wands I was collecting (no more of that, I fear, though I’d hoped to pick up Tonks and Ginny’s wands at least before I brought an end to it), the Ravenclaw goblet I was gifted from a friend who bought it before JKR passed the plausibly just clueless horizon. There is still much in the world that I love, but much of that love comes now from the creations of others, and I cannot in good conscience spend money in ways that directly benefit Rowling’s financial empire.

And the Harry Potter books are not, in my view, good books. I’ve felt that for a while now. I’ll go a step further: I think they’re dangerous stories to tell children; I think I would be uncomfortable reading them to any children I might have. They are not stories that should be viewed without a critical eye. I loved them as a teenager. I’ve grown more uncomfortable with them - and, as with Twilight, far more comfortable with how critically thinking fans have transformed the work - as time has passed.

This actually has very little to do with the fact that, well...Rowling is not the best writer. Listen. I’m a Power Rangers fan. I’ve watched every incarnation of Star Trek, and every single movie. I have no problem with trashy fiction. You will find me rooting around in the garbage with the finest raccoons. But that is part of it, yes; there are flaws in the craft of it, and I don’t feel that, inherently, we needn’t judge children’s fiction by adult standards. I would argue that the very BEST children’s fiction is also excellent by adult standards. But this is the least of my concerns.

Here are my actual concerns.

Rowling wants credit for declaring Dumbledore gay after the fact, for saying Hogwarts is a safe space for all students in ways not reinforced (and in fact actively contradicted) by the text, for cheering the fan-created same-sex marriage of Dean Thomas and Seamus Finnegan, but she doesn’t want to take the creative risks that go along with that. When she had the opportunity, with the Fantastic Beasts movies, to make that subtext text, she and her cronies outright declined it. At every opportunity she has shied away from actually putting her high-minded ideas to the page. This is a cowardly choice at best.

Further, Dumbledore’s only canonical love interest (and it is not clear whether the love was requited) was a pretty fascist with whom he fell in, politically, for a time. I get it, we’ve all had crushes on terrible people. But this is literally his one and only love, requited or not, and after he defeats Grindelwald he is left to pine away for the remainder of his days. The one gay love story in the books - if you tilt your head, and squint, and accept Rowling’s word for it - is a tragic one that leaves one man in prison and another celibate and alone and, increasingly, a manipulative bastard who upholds the status quo.

There’s nothing wrong with a tragic love story. I’ve enjoyed quite a few. But when this - THIS - is what you hold up as a triumph of representation, in the absence of ANYTHING else...no. No cookies for you.

Let’s also talk about how I don’t feel Rowling wrote Dumbledore or approaches him with a critical eye. There is NO excuse for leaving a child in an abusive home. No, fuck your blood wards. You’re telling me that Albus Dumbledore - ALBUS DUMBLEDORE - could not devise protections better than leaving Harry with abusive relatives who despised him and everything he stood for? Then, too, when Dumbledore did intervene in Harry’s life, he did so with full knowledge that he was setting Harry up to be a sacrificial lamb, AND WITH THIS SPECIFIC END IN MIND. None of this is acceptable. Dumbledore is a fucking manipulative, abusive bastard who uses people and throws them away, and the fact that it WORKED OUT for Harry does not absolve him of his crimes.

Moving on, and bear in mind I’m still getting my steam up on this whole rant: Seamus Finnegan. Seamus Finnegan is the one canonically, obviously Irish character in the books, named quite stereotypically, but more importantly, in the books and movies, is shown to be interested in (a) liquor and (b) making things explode. He’s REALLY GOOD at making things explode. Do I need to explain why it’s problematic for the one Irish character to blow things up all the time? He also does this in defense of UK wizardry’s status quo, so, you know, even if you were all IRISH FREEDOM FIGHTER YEAH, I assure you he is not that guy.

There is an entire species of sapient magical creatures who exist solely to serve witches and wizards. Hogwarts is run on slave labor and most of the finest wizard families hold slaves. But it’s all right! Only one of them has ever, in the context of the books, wished to be emancipated, and everyone else views Dobby as a weirdo for wishing to be free, and paid for his labor. Dobby, incidentally, later lays down his life for the wizarding savior who tricked his master into freeing him. The only other emancipated house elf we see in the books, Winky, spends her time in a state of drunken depression, rendering her useless and scarcely capable even of caring for herself. She wished to remain enslaved, do you see, and was helpless without the benevolent guidance of her master.

There’s fan work that has tried to address this by exploring a mystically symbiotic relationship between house elves and wizards and witches, and yes, yes, J.K. Rowling is drawing on European folklore here, but let’s not give her credit, okay?

Goblins. Goblins! Goblins have a long history of being antisemitic stereotypes to begin with (hence why I have seen multiple Jews on Tumblr push back HARD on ‘goblincore’), but J.K. Rowling just...right. They’re short, ugly, have hooked noses, generally look like antisemitic cartoon figures. They are locked out of power but control all the wizarding world’s banking, and do so in very usurious ways, for example charging wizards to hold their money, etc. Now this might be an interesting commentary on how Jews have historically been oppressed and forced into fields that goyim felt themselves too ‘pure’ to work in, were it not for the fact that Rowling’s fantasy Jews LITERALLY AREN’T HUMAN, and more, ARE ACTUALLY GREEDY, CONNIVING, AND WILLING TO BETRAY YOU AGAINST THEIR OWN SELF-INTEREST FOR PERSONAL GAIN. FUCKING GOBLINS, MAN.

Then there’s the travesty of Magic in North America, which disrespected the intelligence of Native Americans (none of them figured out you could point a stick at something to make the magic go until white people showed up to help, apparently, but don’t worry, they’re really CLOSE TO NATURE and GOOD AT NATURAL MAGIC), disrespected the beliefs of specific peoples (no, skinwalkers aren’t just misunderstood shapechanging wizards and witches smeared by the greedy and ignorant, you’re whitesplaining actual mythology to the people who hold it sacred), made the ONE wizarding school in America white with an appropriated Native veneer, and generally just...Did Not Get America. As bad as the UK Wizarding World is, Rowling demonstrated complete IGNORANCE regarding the long history of what we now call North America, ignorance of even modern American culture (there’s a reason why American fans particularly tend to ignore the idea that wizardry is locked down tight behind a wall of secrecy here), ignorance and disrespect toward Native populations, and an unwillingness to do the research necessary to do this shit right.

There’s more. There’s blood purity, and gender politics, and Severus Snape’s portrayal, and all kinds of shit that grates, and I’m just tired.

Writers make mistakes. it happens. But Rowling does not recognize her mistakes. She does not seek to make amends. She just barrels on with her shitty opinions, regardless of who she hurts.

it is at the point where I am no longer even willing to thank her for graciously allowing us to play in her sandbox. We don’t need her blessing; the OTW has done far more for fanfic than she has. And it is, indeed, beginning to grate on me that people constantly try to apply Harry Potter metaphors to real life and real politics. As my friend Doc often says, find another book.

I love butterbeer (or at least the knockoffs available outside the Universal parks), I still read fanfic sometimes, I still like to play with ideas like the Harry Potter movies as performed by Muppets, with Dan Radcliffe as Snape and Tom Felton as Lucius. I’m glad the movies brought us a generation of actors, mentored by performers like Alan Rickman and Maggie Smith and so many others, who have gone on to bigger and better things. Much of my merch is packed away, but I still hold on to some of it because it has new meaning for me in light of fanwork, or because (in the case of my Ravenclaw hat and scarf) it’s warm, winters here are cold, I don’t want to buy new shit, leave me alone.

I am accustomed to seeing fans turn trash into treasure. I’ve tried to do it myself. But I feel, quite strongly, that the original text in this case is trash. it is radioactive, stinky trash. You won’t persuade me otherwise, and I’m done apologizing for it. If Rowling wants me to respect her and her work again, she’ll have to earn it, but I’m very trans and she low-key hates my kind, so even if I weren’t a random reader I wouldn’t be holding my breath.

And I really, really need to emphasize to you all that it is okay if people don’t like a given work of fiction. It is okay if people HATE that piece of fiction. You don’t need to change the minds of everyone around you. You absolutely will not succeed in doing so. Please, I’m begging you, make peace with that - and please, I’m begging you, even if you like something, try to consider it critically.

[intersex-ionality]

Hi. I'm thinking about converting to Judaism and was wondering of you could point me in the direction of any blogs/articles/sites that are... I was gonna say 'general knowledge' but really /any/ info about Judaism and/or Jewish culture. Thank you.

My number one tip, given the conservative and orthodox propaganda that dominates tumblr and most other US spaces that talk about judaism without being explicitly and exclusively Jewish, is to look for reform, humanistic and reconstructionist jewish information. Given that I’m a Jewish Atheist, I haven’t got a strong understanding of the Renewal movement, however, I’ve never seen shitfuckery coming from it.

Unlike the conservative and orthodox movements.

Like. Do you know who the most famous fucking orthodox jew in the US is right now? It’s Ben fuckdamn Shapiro, and frankly, while it’s hardly the Orthodox movement’s responsibility to reign his shit ass in, there’s not nearly as much open disapproval of his fuckery as there should be. And, much like any conservative movement, a disproportionate number of well known orthodox and conservative Jews aligning themselves with modern fascism does not surprise me.

In short,  I have no patience for the conservative or orthodox Jewish movements, nor do I have any patience for people who put rhetoric and propaganda originating from those movements in front of me and pretend like they’re representative of the entire Jewish population.

I strongly urge anyone considering conversion to avoid these movements if at all possible. And that includes blocking out the so-called “progressive” open orthodox movement.

Personally, I favour reconstructionist Judaism.

I feel that even reform judaism has allowed itself to fall out of line with modern realities regarding interpersonal relationships, personal identity, and politics. But the reform movement is massive (and thus diverse), and you’re likely to have access to it even when you don’t have access to anything else. I have no real beef with reform judaism as a practice or a study, unlike conservative and orthodox judaism which are formally invited to suck my progressive goddamn ass.

So. With my absolute frothing hatred for conservatism of all types, including the Jewish kind firmly established.

First and foremost, hit up the Reconstructionist Temple directory, (and the directories of other movements that interest you!) and see if there’s a temple near you.

Independent and group driven studies in an informal setting like the internet are great and important parts of both the conversion process and, in my opinion, of practicing Judaism. But you cannot replace the value of actually participating in your local Jewish community.

I’ve never run into a reconstructionist temple that refused access to even non-converting gentiles. And participating in your local temple’s services, studies, and social outreach is a fantastic first step. It gives you a chance to surround yourself with Jewish culture and learn by doing, rather than by reading. It also gives you access to people (like your local rabbi, but also just the members of the temple in general) who will help you find the answers to your questions.

If there’s not a reconstructionist temple nearby, try a Jewish Community Center, or JCC. These places, kind of the the Christian YMCA/YWCA, are community centers first and foremost, and religious spaces secondly. But, where there’s a lot of Jews hanging out, there’s a lot of Judaism happening. You can’t go wrong with getting a gym or swimming membership with a JCC and just hanging around making friends. My local JCC even has an entire program of fitness classes, including pool times, specifically for neurodivergent adults, which like, that’s so super specific and super cool. 

In terms of reference materials that aren’t tied to community living, Exploring Judaism: A Reconstructionist Approach is a textbook that was updated fairly recently as far as religious studies books go. Most libraries in the US that I’ve looked at either already have a copy available, or have access to one through circulation exchanges, and it’s a good, solid foundation to build from.

Having originally been written in the 1980s and updated in the late 90s, there’s plenty that’s out of date in it, but it’s a strong foundation and reference point. Just remember when you’re reading it: it’s between 20 and 40 years old. The sections on Queer identity in particular tend to use phrasings that, today, has been rejected as archaic and inappropriate. Not disrespectfully or even in a way that diminishes queer identities by accident. But there can be some discomfort in reading older terms like “transsexual” even in academic period pieces.

A quick and easy way to see if your local library has a copy is to install the Library Extension for chrome or firefox, set it up with your local library’s book lists, then check this amazon link. Remember to include any college or student libraries you have access too, which are even more likely to have this in stock, being a text book and all.

My Jewish Learning is a popular resource website among reform and reconstructionist Jews, and I’ve never had a bad time with them, but I want to emphasize that I’m not a regular reader of their work. Nonetheless, I have referenced their work with regards to the intersection of Queer and Jewish identities quite regularly and will probably continue to do so.

Now, I’m also going to make a recommendation here for something I personally have not used, but which I know is highly popular and also in many way highly necessary if you’re a Jew or Convert who is heavily entrenched in politics, justice, and activism.

Hashivenu is a podcast about how Jewish identity intersects with political activism, and about how spiritual practice can help soothe the overwhelming depression and horror that comes with living in a world ruled by people who seem furiously bent on destroying it.

It features a lot of intersectional discussions about what Jewish people can do to embrace and support our more marginalized members, as well as to make ourselves better allies to non-Jewish social movements. It also features a lot of optimism and uplifting, the help motivate you on your path as a Jew and as an activist for a wide variety of seemingly overwhelming causes.

[air3d3lalm3na]

Opinion post.

A lot of things that people do in life that are considered “choices” are really not, not as much as we think.

Not just things that someone is demonstrably born with physically, outwardly, or things people have argued against homophobic views to be understood as such, like sexual orientation. But things like what path you take in life. Perspectives/ideas/viewpoints, preferences in even aesthetics or music, what topics you read about, where you go, who you “choose” to spend time with, so many things.

So many people will have desires or inclinations to go in some direction in life, then suppress it to become this squeaky-clean, “safe” version of a person, that practically harks back to the 50s, what hippies were breaking out against. (This is location specific obviously.) So much of being “reputation”-conscious and molding yourself into this pre-created template for another type of person who is acceptable.

But meanwhile, the inclinations people actually have, considered subcultural or non mainstream or whatever, are a natural part of them and are being suppressed for no reason. Or even things that aren’t subculture, but have to do with your outlook on the world, your opinion. A path you chose.

I find that last one happens a lot when someone does something considered totally unacceptable, out in left field and crazy. Like these fuckin’...bone witches on tumblr, lmao. They will argue with people like “I can’t be anything other than what I am, this is my life, don’t discriminate!” And people fire back like “Lol what girl...? You CHOSE to collect roadkill and perform spells with it in your house...what kinda insanity....”

And what I’m thinking is actually happening here, is that this type of person really doesn’t have as much of a choice to not do totally batshit things like that as we think. Like, they could choose not to pick the actual items up or do the spells. But they technically couldn’t get rid of the inclination. And when they argue they’re being told to go against their nature, they sound stupid as fuck, but really they’re hitting on a point that as out of control as their life is, they actually couldn’t choose to not WANT to do those things, at least. That their preferences, human inclinations, are being formed on some level that they technically didn’t seek out or invent on their own, but it’s just how their human personality developed.

And they can either choose to suppress it to be socially acceptable (with people living the life of like, staid, boring accountants as the most extreme pole on that spectrum), or they could go whole hog, into that kind of life. With most people who consider themselves somewhere on the left or liberal side of things allowing more personal difference in themselves, allowing outer EXPRESSION of it, suppressing technically fewer of their wildest inclinations and desires, but still suppressing some. It takes a certain kind of uninhibition to allow oneself to be a total eccentric, and to recognize that if you have some inclination, - and it’s not hurting anyone - then there’s no purpose in fighting against it and forcing “clean”, mainstream personality traits on yourself to dilute or remove eccentricity.

I just feel like all of this is a hell of a lot less chosen than people believe, or are willing to acknowledge. We can choose, sort of, what we do with whatever “self” (comprised of desires or paths) we’re handed, but even then we’re basically playing a game of deciding how much it’s okay or not okay to follow our own view vs. vying for acceptability and following a group and/or the general population/crowd. Then, if the “self” people have been given diverges in certain ways, they will be mocked or hated for it even by other weirdos or semi-weirdos, for not following a group image - where even subculture has its own limits on what a person needs to be like, even while striking out against the mainstream, much more limiting ones. Some of these are necessary taboos set up against harm being done by and/or to people. Others are just kind of...high school bullshit mentality where people doing harmless things are considered “cringey”, carried into adulthood. Sometimes it’s traits that are not so subtly considered “childish,” too loud or too quiet, too serious or too fun, too any extreme - or too autistic/ASD, the personality effect that people will be discriminated against for, even in settings where there is no outright familiarity with autism/aspergers itself, and people are just hair-trigger reacting to personality traits that they feel a dislike for: someone who has more trouble following the crowd. Ensue humiliating responses to people considered unable or unwilling to act “acceptable” and non “cringey” - i.e. non neurodivergent.

I could go on about this forever. But I find it disappointing that people who are somewhat left and in “different” subcultures will still enforce this against others.

I mean, you have the “bone witch” types who are arguably “nuts” and doing harm of some kind (idk, if they’re actually picking up roadkill then they’re not even taking animal life though? They’re just mildly bonkers in yonkers and people react to it. Probably because of very deep set taboos most societies have, for legit reasons, about how animals, nature, food, and contamination related things should be handled, not to mention the taboo of witchcraft staying alive even in secular settings...if you don’t believe anything spiritual-related is real or can hurt you then why are you still scared of it? Because of deep set taboos going back thousands of years, lol, it’s probably biologically coded in a lot of people by this point.). Who are getting laughed at or otherwise “cringey” and/or frightened reactions.

But then you get people who aren’t touching on any kind of physical taboo or spiritual taboo, who are just considered “TOO eccentric” or laughable beyond the point of acceptability or “reason”. And that’s where you get weirdos who are still “too weird” for the weirdos. That’s where you get queer rather than “just” gay culture - and then you’ll still see people too weird for “queer not gay” culture too! There’s a “point” you will “be allowed” to go to, and lose more cred the “further” you travel towards it, at its capacity, or god forbid PAST and further past it. Without doing anything hurtful, without being anything other than “just weird”. The “weird” kid grown up.

There’s so many levels of this. There’s so many examples. So much of my life and the lives of people who have been close to me is filled with really evident examples of this.

This is why I need to operate in social circles where non-judgmental is considered a value/virtue to have, that lets the social sphere we all operate in keep runnning, where being a kook or an eccentric is ultimately accepted, where you can be the kind of freak that walked out of a John Waters film or “worse” and still be considered, like...human. And have friends, you know. Where “the line” is much more flexible and loosey goosey and actually does just stop at actual harm or social creepiness (of negative ways of interacting with others, hurtful to them albeit more subtle than physical harm). Rather than limiting you at that shallow line of “cringe” and “weird.”

Ultimately every group is going to have that “line” for them. But I need to be in social settings where being a pariah is not that possible unless there’s a good damn reason like being an actual abuser or something. Where you don’t just get narrow-eyed and cold-shouldered for reasons you can’t figure out (too queer? too oddball?), while not being 100% removed from being interacted with, but way too close to being “tolerated” for comfort, by people who clearly consider themselves “normal” or more dedicated to being socially palatable than you...and then remove yourself after a while.

Because that shit happens. Even in gay settings I have gotten this. If you’re “gender weird” looking on the outside then it’s actively worse, in a way that you only perceive if you make yourself look gender normative for a while in the closet - “wow, I’m getting treated better” - and which people who have always been “gender normal” are never going to perceive unless they were to step into your shoes.

It’s just stupid and meaningless. I need to be around the other “freaks”.

(More than that - the right to “be a freak” in life is one that needs to be defended, and people who step outside the norm need to have the right to be safe, have a life, make a living, not be put into outsider status, etc.)

[gayasinstupidpodcast]

Gay As In Stupid’s second episode is out! (pun intended)

Hey y’all! It’s Isaac and Aaron and we’re back with another episode of our Fantastically gay podcast, Gay As In Stupid! This month’s episode is about gay trans experiences, where me and Isaac share some of our experiences as gay trans men, talk about the history of societal and medical prejudice, and share an interview with a spectacular trans lesbian on her point of view!

You can find us on the Itunes Podcast App/Webpage at Gay As In Stupid Podcast! You can also find our episodes uploaded to Youtube and Soundcloud! Sorry for any audio goofs this episode! Recoding in my college dorm has proven to be a thotty whom we will have to get used to working with.

Ordinarily, me and Isaac would put our main sources under Further Reading at the top, but I (Aaron) found the main sources I had to go through for this month’s topic to contain disgusting levels of transphobia that I would feel irresponsible telling our listeners to read. If you want to know what I looked through and used, however, feel free to DM me @albert-dj-cashier​

Aaron’s 2018 September Recs!

What The Trans?! (podcast)

A roughly hour-per-ep podcast by Michelle and Ashleigh, two trans women living in the U.K! The hosts are witty, informative, and compelling, and they talk about topics like the current events in UK trans politics, representation in media, institutionalized prejudice, and personal experiences! Their episodes are really fun as well as interesting, and they have a great dynamic!

Big Eden

This is an absolutely Classic gay feel-good film, and one of me & my friend Lauren’s personal favorites! It centers around a gay New York artist who returns to his childhood home in Montana to care for his grandfather, and finds himself having to deal with the loose threads he left behind (and Also finds an unexpected love interest). It’s cute, romantic, super funny, and doesn’t leave you with long spans of meaninglessly meaningful shots and call it Film.

Isaac’s 2018 September Recs!

Yank! A WWII Love Story: A New Musical

Follows Stu, a young man who gets drafted into World War II where he ends up becoming a photographer for ‘Yank Magazine, a journal for and by the servicemen’.  In present day, Stu’s old journal is discovered, and his story of the war, and his romance with Mitch; a handsome Private he met during training. It’s fun, colorful and absolutely heartbreaking. The songs are memorable, and so are the characters. If you like heart-string pulling gay romances and strong lesbians, this production will make you horny!

MIKA

If you aren’t already listening to MIKA, then I don’t think you’ve been living yet. His songs are sweet and fun to dance to, and truly never get old. He’s gay and a talented singer-songwriter. The music he makes can be best described as Pop/Glam Rock (also GAY!!!) Love yourself and go give “Talk About You” and “Grace Kelly” a listen.

MARCY’S FULL AND WONDERFUL INTERVIEW UNDER THE READ MORE

Q: How do you identify? A: I am a trans woman and a lesbian.

Q: How do you feel trans straight people react to your identity? A: honestly, I’m not sure. I don’t personally know any straight trans people. I’d imagine that we have common grounds on dysphoria and trying to understand gender, but with regards to sexuality, I’m sure it’s kinda up in the air. I doubt there’d be like, hostility regarding my identity. Probably just general acceptance, maybe some minor prodding.

Side note: not to generalize, but from what I understand, straight trans women tend to have different experiences with self-discovery than bi or lesbian trans women. The former tend to figure things out earlier, are sometimes seen as more traditionally feminine, etc. Some of this is from rather TERFy science, though, so take it with a grain of salt.

Q: How do you feel your identity is perceived in the LGBT Community? A: from an intracommunity standpoint, I think that trans WLW in general are steadily becoming more accepted as we speak up about or lives and experiences. Many cis WLW, whether actively or passively, exhibit an alarming amount of transphobic beliefs, but I like to think they’re in the minority.

Q: How do you present your gender and what do it mean to you? A: I’m butch, so my experience with womanhood and femininity is… interesting, to say the least. I certainly don’t take a traditional approach to femininity, and I find that very empowering, especially as a trans woman. I don’t wanna force myself into a role that I’m not comfortable filling, just to appeal to what society expects of me. I wear suits and vests and I keep my hair short and I’ve honestly never even touched makeup, and I wouldn’t have it any other way.

Q: What role do you feel like the intersection of your gender and your sexualilty play in your life? A: my gender and my sexuality are both very important to me, the intersection thereof even moreso. Understanding that intersection has helped me piece together a lot of the questions I had growing up. To put it simply, figuring out that I’m not just trans, but also a lesbian, has helped me figure out like, the past eight-to-ten years’ worth of failed romantic endeavors. The way I experience relationships, the way I interact with people, the way I love are all impacted by both my gender and my sexuality; neither’s importance can be understated.

Q: Do you feel like your gender presentation makes people more prone to invalidate your identity? A: pardon my language but, of fucking course. Like, cis people and transphobes alike will find any reason they can to invalidate a trans person. But the second they find a trans woman who’s a lesbian, who isn’t presenting like a perfectly feminine stereotype, all bets are off my dude. Until I have like, B-cup tits and a soft face, I’m essentially a straight guy in most people’s faces. Which, eh, who cares at this point? Straight people have never understood butch womanhood. I don’t expect them to recognize a trans butch when they see one.

Q: Do you feel like your identity as a gay trans person makes it harder for you to receive proper medical care (hormones, sexual health, etc)? A: quite honestly, I don’t know yet. I’m still pre-HRT; I have yet to jump through the hoops and red tape necessary to get hormones and whatnot. I imagine it’ll be tough, though.

Q: How has your coming out process been different than if you were just trans or gay? A: the biggest difference, for me at least, is that it’s been a multi-step process. For a while I thought I was a bi cis man, then pansexual and agender, then a bi trans woman, and it wasn’t until ~June 2017 that I figured out I was a trans lesbian. Coming out to friends has always been easy; they pick up on new identities and pronouns fairly easy. Honestly, I don’t think my parents quite understand what being trans is right now, but we’re working on it.

Q: Have you ever found yourself feeling guilty over your attraction to women because of your gender identity? A: honestly? At least once a week, I have that dysphoric voice in my head telling me I’m just some creepy straight guy preying on lesbians. I know it isn’t true, it’s just self-doubt and internalized transphobia and TERF rhetoric echoing, but it’s hard to not think that, frankly. Especially when it’s repeated so often.

Q: Do you feel like your voice is heard/your identity is seen between media and the community? A: in media? Outside of a few niche places (and surprisingly, IDW’s Transformers comics), trans lesbians are largely pretty nonexistent. Of course, in the actual community we’re much more populous, but frankly we’re a little bit insular as we tend to mostly befriend and date one another. All in all, don’t think we’re entirely invisible, but I do think we could do with some more fictional representation, and to get more involved with the larger LGBT community.

Q: Is there anything else about your experience as a gay trans person you would like to add? A: admittedly, it hasn’t been until recently that I’ve felt truly comfortable around cis lesbians. Most of my relationships in the past few years have been with other trans girls. There’s a variety of reasons for this, and every woman’s experiences are her own, but for a long time I was afraid that cis lesbians just wouldn’t recognize me as a woman. Q: Would you like your instagram/tumblr to be linked in the episode description? A: sure! I’m @opossumghoul on tumblr and @opossumbutch on other social media

[bimboficationblues]

I'm technically new to all this political stuff, so I hope you can help me out! - How would you briefly explain to someone why capitalism is bad? Why is the US also bad, and how would you respond to someone who claims that it is a "free country" and that we "at least have the freedom of speech and the freedom to protest", etc. I'm very bad with words, I'm just a dumb kid. Sorry for bothering, and thank you. (:

I will answer these questions, but first off, I would say - read, listen, think. Ultimately it’s better if you can develop your own conclusions through a mutual dialogue and learning process with others rather than getting your talking points entirely from others, especially on a social media platform. But if you want resources or recommendations from others, Tumblr can be useful, and I’m happy to provide if you want.

As for answering your questions, it really depends: who is the person you’re talking to, and what do you want out of the conversation? Not everybody has the same interests or concerns or values, and sometimes they’re intractable for whatever reason. So there are other factors that should be taken into account. If you’re just trying to “win” a discussion, I don’t personally think that’s a worthwhile use of time - but if you are trying to convince someone interpersonally or just get better at clarifying your own perspective for the future, that could be valuable.

So, answering your questions under the cut:

How would you briefly explain to someone why capitalism is bad?

A) Capitalism stifles human freedom, and does so in both passive and active forms. This seems counterintuitive because capitalism is peddled as the fulfillment of human freedom (by way of innovation and freedom of choice - Friedrich Hayek and Milton Friedman have claimed that so-called “economic freedom” is a necessary condition for political freedoms), so bear with me.

Passive forms: In order to live under capitalism, most people have to work - and for that matter, they have to tailor skills and interests to be rewarded on the labor-market. Furthermore, since capitalism is predicated on the principle of private property, some kind of state is necessary to enforce that principle through the law, and the state and law are blatantly forms of social control (see David Harvey’s A Brief History of Neoliberalism for more info on this). As a Christian myself, this is the essence of idolatry. The capitalist world-system was made by humans, ostensibly to serve human needs, but is both bad at serving those needs in many ways (for reasons to be explained below) and uses us as the fodder for its self-perpetuation! 

And this generates alienation. There is nothing necessarily “wrong” with depending on other people - humans are social creatures and are themselves influenced by the conditions under which they live no matter what those conditions are. But when your labor and the product of your labor benefits others far better than it sustains you, when you are pushed to view all other people as competitors, when you are subjected to various forms of interpersonal and structural domination (detailed below), this produces quite a bit of psychological distress. (Mark Fisher’s Capitalist Realism and Deleuze & Guattari’s Capitalism and Schizophrenia touch on these in different ways.)

Active forms: Historically, in order to get people to be wage laborers, they had to be forced to do so - in England, which is generally regarded as the birthplace of capitalist modernity, laws were established to oblige people to work for a certain period and punish them if they didn’t. Similar legislation cropped up in Germany and France. And, of course, there was also the trans-Atlantic slave trade, the abuse and exploitation of indigenous populations throughout the Americas and the Caribbean, the confinement of women to the household for free labor. Though not all contemporary evils are the result of capitalism, they have all been shaped by capitalism. Primordial prejudices and mistreatment of “aliens” has been around for a long time, but anti-black racism and “scientific” racism developed out of the economic functions of slavery and capitalist development; though patriarchy predates capitalism considerably, it has been absorbed and reproduced by capitalism’s dynamics. 

One of the common selling points for capitalism is the voluntary character of the contracts, but again, I don’t think it’s a meaningful choice when your other options are “starve” and “beg.” But let’s grant that people enter into voluntary employment contracts to sustain themselves. Within those contracts, bosses behave like dictators, and this is a pattern of both small businesses and large corporations precisely because they want to get as much work and value out of you as they can in order to make a profit. (Vivek Chibber’s book Postcolonial Theory and the Specter of Capital, while not about interpersonal domination by capitalists and employers, has a great chapter on the subject - “Capital’s Universalizing Tendency.”)

Now, although the standard of living and wages for American workers has been rising for a long time (only recently stagnating despite the growth in productivity, again the result of the neoliberal turn in the 70s and 80s), we have seen the most brutal forms of exploitation and domination displaced to other places - Southeast Asia, China, India, and Latin America being the most prominent cases. And still, as the article linked above demonstrates, there are lots of forms of interpersonal domination still going on in an American context.

B) Capitalism is anti-democratic. The concentration of wealth into a select few hands, and the associated political and social power that has become attached to greater social wealth, means that wealthier people have greater access to political power and influence. The Koch Brothers are probably the best example of this, though lobbying in general is an expression of this function. I’m not going to spend a lot of time on this one because I think it’s the least compelling argument personally even though I agree with it, but it is a popular and common one!

C) Capitalism is also fundamentally irrational. I think this is true in the way that we think about value and the way capitalism generates regular crises, but I’ll just use one example.

The convenient thing about money, as both Locke and Marx point out, is that it is potentially infinite unlike other resources. There is the possibility of limitless growth, of maximum expansion - which is why the capitalist mode of production began in Western Europe and the United States and has since spread around the world. (There is, of course, no such thing as limitless growth for anything, except perhaps cancer.) But capitalism takes this possibility as gospel and as a result, will do anything to maximize growth. 

Sometimes those things are good for working people (farm subsidies enabling cheap food - though without those subsidies there would probably be a famine from capitalists not investing capital in food production). More often they aren’t, whether that’s mistreatment of workers, lowering or stagnating wages, destruction of the environment, or outright warfare. Plus, because there is a limit to natural desires or even luxury desires, capitalists have to constantly concoct new desires for us to latch onto, which is why so much money is sunk into advertising.And this is not merely the result of the ethical whims or personal behaviors of individual capitalists (though those do factor in), but the necessary and logical result of a mode of production that has an internal logic of constant, endless reproduction.

Why is the US also bad? how would you respond to someone who claims that it is a “free country” and that we “at least have the freedom of speech and the freedom to protest”, etc.

This is, paradoxically, an easier argument to make empirically but a harder case to sell because American nationalism and American exceptionalism are pretty ubiquitous, and they’ve only gotten more intractable in the past four or five decades. It really depends on what you mean by “bad,” anyway. On one level, the United States is not that different from any other state historically (since they are usually founded through violence and domination) or contemporarily (since they all act in their own geopolitical interests, and that often means fucking other people over undeservedly).

But, on another level: The United States- were built on indigenous and later African slavery- regularly violated treaties or used duplicitous means to gain access to Native American land for investment and expansion purposes- deployed genocidal tactics and sexual violence against Native Americans throughout the expansion process (especially in California and the Southeast)- fabricated a reason to wage war on Mexico to seize territory from it- botched Reconstruction after the end of formal slavery while still allowing black Americans to be abused and exploited and criminalized en masse- had racial policies that the Nazis found inspirational- engaged in imperialist warfare in the Caribbean at the turn of the century- overthrew the Kingdom of Hawaii for economic reasons- nuked a Japanese civilian target (TWICE) when their surrender was already in the cards- used its new hegemony to start launching coups against (mostly democratically elected and socialist-leaning) governments (Iran, Guatemala, Chile)- held the rest of the world in a hostage situation alongside the Soviet Union by threatening nuclear annihilation- waged war on Vietnam after violating the agreement to allow democratic elections and unification to take place- illegally bombed Cambodia and enabled the Khmer Rouge to gain traction- financed Islamist fighters against the Soviet Union that were the precursors of al-Qaeda- engaged in Iran-Contra, basically the shadiest thing in existence, and failed to deliver any real consequences to the people involved - supported and continues to support dictators (Batista, Saddam Hussein, etc.) as well as death squads (right-wing paramilitaries in Latin America)- has the highest incarceration rate in the world- has massively expanded the surveillance and police apparatuses since 9/11- invaded Iraq under false pretenses and let Islamic State develop out of the chaos

This is just a minor selection. And to top it all off, the Constitution of the United States is designed to make government as dysfunctional and anti-democratic as possible. The powers of the President have been perpetually expanding for a long time, and the Supreme Court is such a shamelessly broken, unaccountable institution that I cannot believe we take it seriously. The Supreme Court’s rulings on free speech have been up-and-down, often determined by war and nationalism, and the social backlash and hostility to political protest every time the United States goes to war suggests that even with the freedom of assembly granted by the Constitution, nationalism takes priority over freedoms.

This post is long enough, but if you (or anyone else) want me to elaborate on anything I’ve said here, feel free to ask.

[whatever-the-fucky-i-writes]

Shadows Dance - Part 1

Word Count: 1,564

Pairing: Bucky x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Death, Mentions of torture, Blood, Swearing, One mention of drug use

Part 2   Part 3   Part 4 (Final)

Series Masterlist

Disclaimer: I own none of the characters from the MCU.

Tags: @beccaanne814   @winterbvrnes

Author’s Note: AND HERE WE ARE! The original reason for making this darn blog! [Cue Thomas Sanders Voice] Story Time! So the amazing winterbvrnes was having a writing challenge and I had been toying with the idea of actually writing something rather than just creating stories in my head that will never have the honor of meeting the lovely Ms Paper. The basic premise was that you take a line from a song, book, poem, whatever you want and write a story about it. I decided to go for it, choosing the line “Sometimes goodbye's the only way. And the Sun will set for you." from the song Shadow of the Day by Linkin Park (a song that I may or may not have listened to on repeat while writing this whole thing). And even though they ended up taking down the challenge and later leaving Tumblr, I decided to still write this story. And so ten months later, my first (on purpose) fanfic is finally done. Infinity War wasn’t out when I started writing this so there’s no spoilers or anything from that movie in here. I’ve split it up into four parts and I’m going to try and exercise what little patience I have and try to not post them all in one go. Part two will probably be up within the next few days.

And I just want to give special thanks to beccaanne814. I am so thankful that she decided to read this, and her kind words and support gave me the extra boost I needed to actually put this out into the world. If you don’t already know of her, you should totally go check her out; her writing’s amazeballs!

So without further ado, here is my Bucky x Reader series, Shadows Dance.

        You had joined the Avengers a few years ago. After Steve’s half of the Avengers had fled, Tony had started to compile a list of special individuals whom he believed had the makings of potential recruits. However, that wasn’t the reason you were recruited. Were you on the list? Yes, your exemplary background as an ex-Marine and the fact that you were pretty dang smart ensured that, and having powers didn’t hurt either. No, the reason you were recruited was that you actually saved a few Avenger butts when they found themselves in a sticky situation at a Hydra base that you had infiltrated while working with Nick Fury in Europe. And after you’d finished saving their asses, you just had to come back to the compound for celebratory drinks. And, after Tony talked it over with you and Fury, you all decided it would be beneficial if you stayed.

        And after a brief adjustment period, you began to fit right in. You could keep up with Tony and Bruce’s scientific ramblings so you would often find yourself wandering down to the lab on restless nights to keep Tony company and provide second (or third) opinions on whatever gizmo or gadget he was working on. Your main sparring opponents were Nat and Steve, but you would also face Clint and Sam to shake things up sometimes. All in all, you got on well with everyone on the team, aside from Bucky. He wasn’t that good with new people yet so your interactions were often spent in silence, or very near to it. That’s not to say you avoided him, you could often be found watching TV in the main room together, but you didn’t push him to talk to you; you figured that when he felt comfortable enough, he would talk. And about half a year later, talk he did. After you got over what felt akin to shock at his first attempt at initiating conversation with you, you would talk about anything and everything. You two were like peas in a pod and he became your best friend (but you’d never tell Tony that — his fake offense would be unbearable.) Your room was just down the hall from Bucky’s so you’d often find yourself comforting him after nightmares, and he found himself doing the same for you. And on the weekends when you guys weren’t running missions, you’d often have movie or TV show marathons in each others room. And that’s how things were for the next year and half-ish. 

        However, after Bucky and the sweet art student (she had to be the nicest human being you had met outside of the Avengers) broke up, you became very conflicted. You felt bad because your best friend was hurting and you only wanted him to be happy, but you also felt… relief? And that’s how you realized that what had once been platonic, for you at least, had become romantic. But your friendship with him meant the world to you so you kept your feelings a secret so as to not jeopardize that. You didn’t want to fuck it all up by revealing your feelings and having him not reciprocate which would lead to inevitable awkwardness. So you resolved to only be there for Bucky in his time of need and to simply stay his friend. 

Two Years Later...

         You had a bad feeling about this. The rest of the Avengers were out on other missions, leaving you and Bucky to respond to a tip from somewhere in eastern Europe. Some stoner had been wandering through the woods after some… recreational activities when they had seen “strange military-looking trucks” heading further into the woods. Now, normally people wouldn’t give too much credence to what the high youngster had said, but the area they described was home to a known, although thought to be abandoned, Hydra base. You two had quickly loaded up the Quinjet with all the necessary supplies and your suits and taken off. Bucky locked in the auto-pilot sequence and turned around. You tossed him his suit with a nod of your head as you both turned around and got dressed.

        “You good?” he asked as you propped your foot up on a seat and hunched over to begin to lace the tac boot up.

        “You can turn around,” you responded. Finishing with that a few moments later, you straightened out, almost feeling a sense of comfort in your suit. Your ensemble consisted of black tac boots and pants, not unlike Bucky’s, and a long-sleeved black spandex shirt underneath a bulletproof vest. Nat had tried to convince you to wear a catsuit once, but you only got as far as putting one on and deciding it was definitely not for you. It clung in all the wrong places and you could just feel the major wedgie waiting to happen.

        Well, turns out you had pretty great intuition because, wouldn’t ya know, your bad feeling had meant something. It meant that you and Bucky had been dumbasses for going in alone. Your intel and surveillance had grossly underestimated the total population and size of the base. It was supposed to be mostly abandoned, intel telling you that there was nothing more than a ghost crew present, just enough to keep it running. And Bucky’s reconn indicated that those numbers should have been right. It was supposed to be relatively small, a few hallways, a few rooms, a lab or two with a central control/security room, nothing major. Instead, you got a sprawling, underground maze of hallways that all looked the same and countless rooms with iron doors with as many agents as you could possibly squeeze into the place. Screw base, this was a stronghold. And you and Bucky had gone in with a carefully laid plan that had fallen into pieces when confronted with their overwhelming numbers. Needless to say, the two of you were captured, and, recognizing who Bucky was and inferring who you must be, they decided to hold off on killing you until you answered a few of their questions while strapped to some pretty sturdy-ass, cold, metal chairs.

        Day and night bled together, the lines between dream and reality, waking and unconsciousness were blurred by ever-present pain. After, oh gosh you didn’t even know how long it had been… you decided to call it a long while, a rookie guard had made the mistake of standing too close to you while overseeing one of Bucky’s sessions. The guard had turned as Bucky passed out, his head slumped forward onto his chest. ‘Sick fucker,’ you thought, ‘wanting to get a better view of someone else’s torture. What would your momma say?’ 

        But lucky for you, his desire to get a better view left the side of his leg exposed to you, allowing you to see the knife he kept strapped there. You quickly formulated a plan, knowing you had to act before the guard turned his back towards you completely. So even though the angle wasn’t quite ideal, you reeled back and with all your might head-butted the guard right in his balls. As your chair began to fall forward, you twisted it so that your hand brushed his leg, allowing you just enough to time to snatch the knife out of its holster without him noticing. While he was caught up in his pain, you slid the knife underneath your arm, trapping it between your forearm and the arm of the chair. Just as you finished, the torturer, who had quickly strode over from where Bucky was strapped to his chair with a malicious glint in her eyes, was picking your chair back up, slamming it back onto all four legs. Your eyes met those of the guard, who was looking at you with enough vitriol that you almost felt insulted. It wasn’t your fault they had lousy spacial awareness. The contact was cut swiftly as you experienced a different kind of contact. Namely that between a fist and your face. You could taste blood as your head snapped violently to the side. Waiting until your vision stopped swimming, you wearily turned your head back, already able to feel a nasty bruise forming thanks to a probably fractured cheekbone. Man, that lady had one hell of a right hook. 

        And that was only the beginning. The pummeling that followed was nothing short of absolutely brutal. As she left the room, leaving you and Bucky alone in the room you were being contained in, the guard was forced to reassume his position outside the door. You lingered on the edge of passing out, whether it was from pain or exhaustion, you didn’t know. But you knew you had to stay awake. And, though you dreaded what would happen if this next step went wrong, you knew you had to get someone to come back in there. The only way out was through a door that opened from the outside, a buzzer letting the guard outside know when someone wanted to be let out. So in order to get out, you needed someone else to come in. You managed to maneuver the knife out from under your arm and made quick work of the ropes that were holding you in place. ‘Time to go to work,’ you thought as you swallowed heavily, preparing yourself mentally for what was to come.

To Be Continued...