#ableism goes without saying

[tzimtzum]

so ive been in my little gym girl era and it's been so sinister to see how quickly watching a couple very dry videos on form transformed my feed into like 1. crazy eating disorder bait content, and 2. Gym Guy Humour which is SO steeped in misogyny without being misogynistic, so if you were a young man just learning to work out you would instantly be exposed to a barrage of content that seems completely apolitical but is conditioning you at every turn never to see women as your peers. & my gym rat friend who uses IG informs me that the next stage of the pipeline is a slope of 'men's mental health' content that's gradually more openly misogynistic until you're in the manosphere. that's probably fine

[t0bey]

I went over everyone from Hullabaloo's birthday/character day letters, I still can't figure out what Joker did to Soul Weaver. So exactly what happened to her?

8-0-3 is joker and 8-0-1 is violetta's experiment number

[mars-ipan]

i do love my family very dearly but the internalized ableism the men in here struggle with is. so much

[chemdisaster]

table manners are so weird. like on a practical level utensils are useful as shit, but the fact that there's certain types of food it is and isn't acceptable to eat without them....i have hands. why shouldn't i take pleasure in using them

[booksinmythorax]

My dear friends: When a librarian or teacher says "Audiobooks count as reading", we do not literally mean that audiobooks are the same as decoding visual meaning via symbols representing sounds. We mean, among other things:

Audiobooks can expose listeners to new vocabulary and forms of syntax.

Audiobooks can present listeners with long-form fictional narratives with engaging characters, interesting literary devices, and poetic turns of phrase.

Audiobooks can teach listeners new information in a long-form manner that goes into depth or wide breadth on a particular subject or subjects.

Audiobooks can help listeners' verbal comprehension skills.

Audiobooks can do all these things without presenting the same difficulties to blind, low vision, partially sighted, visually impaired, or dyslexic listeners; listeners with ADHD; listeners who experience physical difficulty with holding a book or e-reader; or listeners who are disabled in a host of other ways that a physical book or e-reader might present.

The written word is not specially imbued with magical noble worth above the spoken word, and if you think it is, you may have some ableism and/or racism to deconstruct.

[interstellarsystem]

We're obviously pro-endo and have a lot of headmates who are endogenic, but we do have DID and a lot of trauma worked its way into our formation of our system. Which leaves us in a pretty weird spot in syscourse!

But one of the weirdest things we've noticed is... A lot of the anti endo mindset is completely anti recovery for CDD systems entirely, while claiming to protect them. Often there's the sort of ableist rhetoric that's all about "if you're not suffering, you're not disordered and therefore mocking us or fake".. Which is ridiculous to say the least!

We've seen claims of:

Systems are fake if they're happy they're a system, because if you're happy you're a system then you can't have been traumatised enough to get there.

Systems are fake if they love their headmates in any way, because plurality is a disorder.

Systems are fake if they post "too much" about being happy online, because being plural is a disorder and therefore suffering.

Systems are fake if they never show signs of suffering online.

Systems are fake if they're open about being a system IRL or sometimes at all, because it's a deeply shameful thing.

Systems are fake if they have less amnesia than full-on blackout amnesia, because it's in the DSM.

Systems are fake if they don't dissociate much, because it's in the name of the disorder and the DSM.

And we're here to say that's all plainly incorrect at best. It's also incredibly ableist, anti-recovery and downright harmful to CDD systems who learn they have this disorder, go online for support, and just see discourse and people getting fakeclaimed if they don't show of how much they're suffering online.

Systems can be happy that they're plural. Even if it came from trauma. Why? Well you can be happy that you're any way you are, regardless of how you got there, obviously. But there's also a crucial point here that CDDs and headmates often develop to protect people from trauma. Of course some systems would be glad that they're plural, in a lot of cases it's what literally saved their lives. This goes for the "systems can't love their headmates" thing too--plenty of systems are full of love for their headmates! Not only because they were there for them when it was needed, but because these are--depending on your view--entire people you live with, or parts of yourself. Why are you implying you have to hate that so viscerally to be real?

It's also a pretty well known thing that people tend to post their happier moments online, leading to this perception that they don't suffer. One, because that's how a lot of people work--their personal pages are public after all, and they don't want to be seen as constistently struggling. Two, it's downright dangerous to post in so much detail about your triggers, your trauma and abuse you're currently facing on the internet--even ignoring the fact that you need to be wary of your digital footprint, people can read these posts and use information against you. It's a choice many people make to not hand random people ammo on a silver plate.

Claiming that systems are fake if they're open about being plural in any space is simply ablesim. We've seen this take quite a few times, actually, and it never fails to be some of the most ridiculous ableism we've seen--it comes with a puritan "sweep it under the rug" mindset and the expectation that systems are ashamed of their plurality by default, or that it's simply too dangerous to share. While for a lot of people it is very dangerous to talk about their system so they simply keep that information to themselves, claiming every system should hide it for their entire lives and not expect to be received with kindness, compassion or accommodation is horrible.

As for the amnesia and dissociation... Therapy can help with these! You can actively go to therapy and get strategies to deal with the symptoms that come with a CDD without even going down the final fusion route! You can get it to a point where you have communication with your headmates, where you can switch on command, where you don't dissociate much at all.... You can work toward these goals with the right tools! Why does a system like us who's worked through years of therapy and years of working with ourselves within our own system suddenly get called fake once we start healing?

CDD systems should not have to fit what YOU think a true system should look like. They shouldn't have to suffer on show for you to believe them. They shouldn't have to hide all of themselves away in shame and never have their true selves known. They shouldn't have to pretend they're not recovering to be treated as real. They shouldn't have to feel like they'll be persecuted for simply being happy with who they are as people, or happy with how far they've come.

"Being a system isn't all fun and games" and I'm sure it's not for plenty of people. But do you think it's ok when a CDD system says they love themselves and think their system is fun? Or do you group them in with the endogenics who are "mocking [your] trauma"? Do you really care about people with CDDs at all in that case?

You can say "anti endos aren't ableist because endogenic plurality isn't a disorder" all you like--you're wrong about endogenics not being able to have CDDs by the way, but that's another post--but when you display so much ableist rhetoric toward your fellow CDD systems, I don't know how anyone can see you as "protecting" those with the disorders at all. You can't hide your hatred behind the guise of "protection" when you're harming your own community. You're not protecting us from anyone, you're trying to make us fit into a box full of spikes. It was never about protecting trauma survivors, it was about your personal hatred for others. We shouldn't have to suffer for you.

[this-is-exorsexism]

every time i talk about exorsexism within trans communities specifically (and sometimes lateral ableism), someone who Doesn't Like It™️ comes into my mentions speculating on my age and how long i've been out for, acting like i'm a teenager (which to them makes everything i say inherently meaningless) and like i came into the community yesterday (i've been here long enough to see transmedicalism shift from something that was overtly done by a few loud people to something that has been broadly normalised within the community to the point where nearly every trans discussion has some kind of transmed undertone, long enough to watch people with large platforms be exorsexist for years on end without any consequence and more).

you all are desperate to frame nonbinary people talking about exorsexism as unreliable narrators, which is one of the most common ways to shut down conversations about exorsexism, and the easiest way to do that is to infantilise us, treat us either like kids or newbies in the community or both who couldn't possibly have anything real to say. like i'm just waiting for people to say my experience, observations and opinions aren't "valid" because i'm neurodivergent or something because this is where this line of thinking usually goes. bonus points if the person going "young enbies don't know what they're talking about" has only been out for a year or two themselves and hasn't seen all the stuff me and others have.

i made a conscious choice to not mention my age, how long i've been out or any other specific identities on this blog because i've been here long enough to know that everything and anything would just be used against me, and more importantly, against the concept of exorsexism being a thing. it's certainly interesting where people's speculations are going though.

[veal-exe]

I want to talk a little more in-depth about something I mentioned in another post:

The phrase “how to make yourself uninteresting to narcissists” is textbook ableism. And I don’t mean that in a vague or metaphorical way, I mean that this is a direct example of medicalized, systemic, psychiatric ableism being repeated uncritically. If what you mean is “shitty people,” then just say “shitty people.”

Now, let me be really clear:

Gray rocking is real. It’s a legitimate and often very effective tactic for protecting yourself in the context of ongoing abuse. I’ve used it. I’ve encouraged others to use it. It can be a survival strategy in situations where confrontation or boundaries aren’t safe. I’m not criticizing gray rocking itself, I’m criticizing the way people talk about it, especially when that language comes from or reinforces ableist frameworks.

The psychiatric system, like the rest of the medical-industrial complex, is built on deeply ableist foundations. That’s not a metaphor or a hot take. It’s historical, institutional fact. Psychiatry has long been used to pathologize non-normative behavior, to categorize human beings into boxes that are easier to control, medicate, and discard. That context matters, especially when you start parroting clinical language in casual, moralizing ways.

If you’re quoting something your psych professor said; your psych professor is ableist. If you’re citing your therapist or your doctor, they, too, exist within and benefit from an ableist structure. They may be kind people. They may mean well. They may even be trying to do better. But that does not make them immune to the systemic harm of the institution they work within.

They are still part of a field that is actively hostile to many kinds of neurodivergence and regularly fails the people it claims to help especially those with personality disorders.

We say “all cops are bastards” with the understanding that even a “good” cop is upholding a violent and oppressive system. It’s the same logic here: when I say all doctors are ableist or all psych teachers are ableist, I am not condemning individual people so much as naming the system that produced them, trained them, and continues to shape their language and choices.

And unlike police, I’m not arguing these roles shouldn’t exist. I believe psychology and medicine can do good. But they must be approached critically. We cannot keep repeating their rhetoric like it’s objective truth when so much of it was built on the backs of the most marginalized and misunderstood. That goes double when you’re talking about people with personality disorders who are not only demonized in mainstream culture, but are often treated as inherently manipulative or dangerous within the very field that diagnoses them.

If you are going to use psychiatric language in public discourse, especially around abuse, boundaries, and protection, you need to be careful. You need to be critical. You need to ask yourself: Is this helping, or am I just passing along the same ableist frameworks that harm the very people I think I’m advocating for?

Because if you can’t do that work, if you’re just parroting the system without stopping to examine it, then yes, you are upholding medical ableism.

And yes, that does make you an active danger to people targeted by those systems.

Especially the ones society has been taught to fear the most.

[rememberwren]

A Dichotomy of Thought || 10

Prior and future chapters here.

A visitor in the park.

CW: domestic violence, rape, ableist language, homophobic slurs (f-word), internalized ableism, suicidal ideation, mention of burning.

-

It seems cruel that such terrible things must happen at moments when you are your happiest. There’s logic in it, sure—there can be no joy without pain, and happiness is bracketed on either side by sadness—but logic and cruelty don’t have to live apart from each other. In fact, you would often say they are married. 

Your boyfriend stands over you, blotting out the sun like a raincloud come to pour down on the briefest moment of peace you have felt in the last several days. Everything about him is innocuous: his clothes, his posture, hands shoved deep into his pockets as he stares down at you with unspeakable fondness in his eyes. 

“Hi honey,” he says. “How was work?” 

Johnny goes to stand, but your boyfriend is quicker, banging his shin violently against Johnny’s knee. Johnny sucks in a breath as the pain winds him, body bowing over to protect his most vulnerable areas. 

“Don’t stand on my account,” your boyfriend says to his crumpled figure. “Did I get the right knee? I did, didn’t I? I wasn’t sure if it was the right or the left—“

“Hey!” you bellow, the volume of your own voice surprising you. You stand between them, put both hands against your boyfriend’s chest, and push. He nearly goes sprawling on the sidewalk, only barely managing to get his feet under him in time. You point a shaking finger in his face. “You don’t fucking touch him!”

“An accident,” he laughs, lifting his hands. “I stumbled into him. It could have happened to anybody.” 

“Yer a fucking cunt,” Johnny groans, both hands gripping his thigh above his knee, knuckles pale. “And so’s yer mother. Syphilis-infected-cocksucking bitch.”

“Not nice,” your boyfriend says mildly, shoving his hands back into his pocket. “Do you kiss my fiancé with that mouth?” 

“You don’t even know what you’re talking about,” you hiss. All three of you quiet down as an older couple inches by, hand in weathered hand. When they are a safe distance away, you ask: “How did you know I was here? Were you following me?”

“I can’t reveal all my secrets,” he says, lowering his voice to a dangerous timber, one that promises violence. “The same way you’re not willing to give up all of yours. You thought I wouldn’t notice you coming home late all the time? Do I look stupid?” 

Johnny makes a sound, some kind of wounded laugh that only serves to put you on edge even more. You can imagine his answer—but he doesn’t know your boyfriend. He doesn’t know the kind of grim, intelligent cruelty that is wielded against you every day. Johnny is hot headed and craving violence, but he’s in no condition to experience it. 

You have to protect him. 

“We can talk about it at home,” you mutter, making sure to keep between the two men who seem eager for each other’s blood. Your boyfriend tongues his cheek, eyeing Johnny, weighing his options. 

“Come on,” you say, louder. Reaching out, you grip his arm, nails digging into his skin. He doesn’t even flinch. But after an endless moment of waiting for further provocation from Johnny, he decides Johnny isn’t worth his time. He laces his fingers in yours and pulls you along, further away from the bench, from Johnny, from the sunlight. 

“Get in the car,” he says, walking to the driver’s side. 

“You’re not supposed to drive.” 

“I won’t say it again.” 

He won’t, either. You know him. So instead you slip into the passenger seat. There’s no worse feeling than being in an enclosed space with him. The air feels heavy and oppressive, weighing you down. At the same time, your body buzzes with adrenalin, preparing for pain. You numbly buckle your seatbelt while he starts the car. 

“How long have you been cheating on me with that cripple next door?” he asks calmly. 

“I’m not.”

The calm snaps, nothing but a thin sheet of icy veneer over a deep, dark lake of fury. 

“Don’t—lie—to—me,” he says through his teeth. He holds out a hand and wiggles his fingers. “Phone. Hand it over. You’ve lost your privileges.” 

“I don’t have it,” you lie. “It’s at work.” 

“You really do,” he says, staring at you with borderline awe. “You think I’m a fucking idiot, don’t you? Oh, baby. Oh, honey. You’re in for it. How do you think I fucking found you? Give me the goddamn phone.” 

You shake your head. You can’t give it up. Not when it’s the only safe way for Simon to contact you. 

He reaches for your hand. The two of you struggle as you try to avoid his touch, briefly banging your knuckles on the car window, but then he has your hand in his grasp, and he takes your smallest finger and wrenches it back, back—you feel the pop, pain lancing through your hand all the way to your wrist. 

You screech. 

“Give me the phone,” he says, letting you cradle the misshapen hand against your breast. You grit your teeth, tears dripping off your chin. When he reaches for your hand again, you break and turn out your pockets, handing over your last lifeline. He takes the phone and beats it against the dashboard, again and again and again until the screen is a spider’s web of cracks, glass littering your knees. 

He hands you back the broken phone. 

“You broke my fucking finger,” you cry, voice warbling embarrassingly. 

“You broke your own finger by not listening to me the first time,” he says, tossing the phone in your lap when you don’t take it. He puts the car in reverse. “Don’t blame me for your mistakes, baby.” 

-

The two of you spend five hours in the emergency room together. This is an integral part of the experience; when he hurts you, he has to heal you. 

Your pinky isn’t broken, only dislocated. They set it and splint it and warn you that it could take months to feel normal again, like you know at all what that word means. Beneath the tinny lights of the exam room, your makeup job must be failing, because the nurse asks your boyfriend to step out so that she can ask you a few questions alone. 

This isn’t your first time in the emergency room, and you know the rules. You stick to your story (the one he had stitched together on the drive to the ER) even without your boyfriend’s oppressive presence looming over your shoulder. The nurse gives you a look that is both professional and pitying. You spend the rest of the visit refusing to meet her eyes, chewing on the nails of your good hand. 

“Could you be any more suspicious?” your boyfriend asks mildly while the two of you leave. He waves to one of the nurses, who gives back a cheerful little salute. 

Making friends wherever he goes; that’s your boyfriend. 

-

Walking into your apartment is like walking into another world. 

Everything has been upended: the couch cushions, the silverware drawers, the chairs at the table. DVD’s have been removed from their boxes. Even the fucking lamps have had their lampshades removed. The bathroom and bedroom doors have been taken off their hinges and laid neatly against one another in the bedroom. 

“You weren’t the only one busy today,” he says, relishing in your grim expression. “You know the drill. Clean up. Then we’ll go to bed.” 

This is an old trick of his that you know well. He tore the place apart searching for contraband—but he knows that even he isn’t all-powerful. Now he waits to see where you will rush to clean up first, where your anxious mind will take you, desperate to find out if he’s found whatever you’ve been hiding. Once it was money. Another time, a business card for a lawyer. 

This time, a lighter that’s not your own. 

You’re smarter now, though. You don’t go straight for your sock drawer where the lighter is hidden. You begin at the northernmost point of the apartment and clean north to south, east to west, methodical, your hand throbbing as the anesthetic wears off. 

It is deeply late by the time you make it to the bedroom to find your clothes strewn across the bed. Your eyes burn with exhaustion, body aching from a long day at work (and a longer day after work). You can’t help but think of Johnny as you clean, tucking clothes back into their drawers, putting clothes back on their hangers. Did he make it home safely? Did he finally message Simon? Did he try to walk home? Thinking about Johnny out alone in the dark makes your stomach turn unpleasantly. 

Sock drawer now. Most of these are still in the dresser, though some have been pushed out into the floor in your boyfriend’s search for ammunition to use against you. You pick up the few outliers and stuff them back into the drawer. 

No lighter. 

It’s not there. You know even as you continue to search without hope, rifling through your paired socks as subtly as you can. This is all just another game. He’s found the lighter and has just been waiting for you to notice it’s gone so that he can torment you with it. Maybe he’ll flick the spark wheel (the way Johnny can’t—God, Johnny, please be okay—) and hold the flame to your skin or your hair—

You touch something hard, plastic. Your breath catches. It’s there. It’s still there, tucked inside a pair of socks. He hadn’t found it. Relief rises up in you so poignantly that tears fill your eyes, even as you force yourself to shut the drawer and move on to another part of the room, feeling your boyfriend’s presence at the door, watching. 

The lighter was so little, but it meant so much. You couldn’t even put into words why. Because it was Johnny’s, maybe. Because it was yours, now. Because it was one thing your boyfriend hadn’t put his hands on and destroyed or claimed as his own. Nothing belonged to you—not your money, not your body, nothing. Except maybe that silly lighter. 

You wait until after he fucks you to speak, stubbornly maintaining your silence even through the pain and humiliation he inflicts on you. There’s something even worse about the way he draws your body against his afterwards, an arm looped possessively over your waist, the imitation of a loving cuddle. 

“I want to break up,” you say. 

He gives a long-suffering sigh, breath rustling your hair. “Keep dreaming, baby.” 

The words won’t stop tripping out of your mouth. 

“I mean it. I hate you—and you hate me. All we do is fight and hurt each other. Why…” you get choked up, swallow past the lump in your throat. “We don’t have to do this anymore. You can’t possibly be happy. Is this really how you want to live the rest of your life? Tormenting me?” 

He is quiet for longer than you expect. You hold your breath, tears dripping from your eyes and over the bridge of your nose, down into your pillowcase. Maybe he’s thinking about it. Maybe he’s really considering it. 

At last, he says: “Don’t ever think that there’s anywhere else in the world…anything else I’d rather be, than right where I am.”

Your heart plummets.

“Now go to sleep,” he says, kissing your neck. “You work in the morning.”

-

The sun goes down before Simon finds him. Johnny sits shivering on the bench where you left him, his eyes red rimmed and unseeing even when he hears the familiar footsteps of his lover against the pavement. 

Simon sits next to him where you once sat, and for a long time, neither of them speaks. When Johnny finally breaks the silence, his voice is rough from hours of crying and disuse. 

“I brought her here,” he says. 

Simon nods. He knows. Of course he knows. 

“I think she liked it,” Johnny adds, trying to find any brightness in the dark that encompasses him. 

But all at once the tears come back, his throat burning, head throbbing. He bends at the waist, elbow on his thigh, and shakes, trying to keep his crying quiet, still clinging to the remnants of a dignity that God tears more from his grasp every day. When Simon’s warm arm wraps around him, it just makes him cry harder, even as he leans into the heat of the other man like a flower bends toward the sun. 

“I’m useless,” Johnny weeps. “Fuckin’ useless. He showed up and just—took her, and I couldn’t do a thing to stop him. Even you think I’m useless—druggin’ me to keep me from getting in your way. I can’t dress myself, can’t tie my own shoes. What fucking good am I, as a human being? What’s the good in being alive if I have to live like this?”

Simon says nothing. Johnny leans up, letting the moonlight wash over his tear-soaked face. He wipes at his cheeks. 

“You can’t be happy, either,” he says, taking in the solemn lines of Simon’s face, the shadows under his eyes. Simon looks older than his age, and Johnny knows who is responsible, who has aged him. Terrified to know the answer, he asks: “Is this how you want to live? With an overgrown child as your lover? One who can’t remember where he took off his shoes? Who needs you to, to cut up his food and button his shirts?” 

“If that’s how it’s going to be,” says Simon simply. “If that’s how I get to be with you. Then yeah, Johnny. I’m solid.” 

Johnny shakes his head. He can’t even find the energy within him to be angry. All that’s left is disbelief. “You can’t mean that.” 

“I mean it. I—“ Simon ducks his head. “—I never should have put those pills in your juice. I should have trusted you. I wish I could take that back.” 

Johnny sniffs wetly. It’s as close to an apology as he’s ever heard Simon give, and it makes no small amount of guilt bloom in Johnny’s aching chest. 

“You were right not to trust me,” says Johnny. “I was lying.”

“I know,” says Simon. He reaches down and laces his fingers with Johnny’s one hand. “But I want to be a man who trusts you, even if I’m wrong.” 

Johnny is quiet for a long time, turning those words over in his head. A painful longing rises up in his chest, one he hasn’t felt since the days when he was still in the 141, days when he could barely breathe for wanting the man beside him so badly. When they’d had to love each other in secret, and it felt like he would happily have given anything if it meant they didn’t have to hide anymore. 

I miss you, he thinks. I miss myself. Leaning in, he lays his cheek against Simon’s shoulder. 

“Are we gonna make it?” he wonders quietly, watching the last of the fireflies twinkle around the dim park. Soon it will be too cold for them. Soon it will be too cold for Johnny. 

“Whatever we do, we’ll do it together,” Simon promises, laying his temple against Johnny’s head. 

-

He waits until you are asleep to creep out of the bed. There is no rest for him—not when he gets in these restless, paranoid moods. Not when he has a hunch to follow. 

Quietly, he drifts through the apartment like a ghost. Everything is back in its place, but he tries to think of anywhere he might have missed to search. You are hiding something; he knows it. He knows you. You’re see-through to him, predictable in a way that used to thrill him but now just irritates. 

“Where is it?” he mutters, standing in the living room, turning a slow circle. 

Was the lighter really all you’d been hiding? That stupid piece of plastic and metal? He’d found it easily and decided it served him better left in its place. Let you think that he had missed it. Let you think that he was slipping. 

“I’m sharper than ever, baby,” he mutters to himself in the darkness. 

Halfheartedly, he searches a few places that he had already gone through: checking some of the mugs on the top shelf in the kitchen, feeling beneath the table in the foyer for anything taped beneath it. 

He thinks about the cripple next door while he does it. Johnny. A problem, if he’s ever seen one. Him and his boyfriend both. What two faggots want with you, he can’t imagine—good Samaritans, perhaps? Well they would find out in good time what happened to people who put their noses where they didn’t belong. 

Regardless, he doesn’t like it. It leaves a sour taste in his mouth. 

Sighing, he braces his hands against the table, resting his weight against it. If he’d known that this building would cause so much trouble, he never would have moved you in here. Not that the two of you had been swimming in options. 

Your keys on the table catch his eye, but he doesn’t know why. He nudges them with his hand, metal dragging over the wood. On a whim, he counts them. 

There is an extra key. 

His brows lift. He picks up the keys and goes through them one by one, wracking his brain to remember what each one is for. At last he’s left with a single unfamiliar key. One that looks identical to the key to their apartment. A duplicate? he wonders. For when she’s locked out? 

But no, the keys are different. Just similar. 

An idea tickles at the back of his brain, but he’s never been the kind of man to ignore his instincts. He goes to the door without bothering to slip on his shoes, and steps silently out into the hallway. At this time of night, there is no one out and about, no one peeking at him from their doors.  On silent feet, he pads to his neighbor’s door and grips the knob. Locked. 

He slips the key into the lock—and it opens. 

Oh that little bitch. Fury rises up in him until he can taste it in the back of his throat. He wants to go and wake you, take a fistful of your hair and drag you out into the hallway for all your nosy neighbors to see, wants to hear that shriek of pain you give when he hurts you so unexpectedly—

But no. He has to be smart. 

He locks 5C’s door again, checks the handle, then slips back into his apartment. There will be no rest for him tonight. Not when there is so much to think about. 

[vivziepopcriticalconfessions]

"I'm probably going to be cooked alive for this but some of y'all need to chill the fuck out in the crit community. As awful as Viv is, wishing death upon her and/or trying to armchair diagnose her with NPD ot lablelling her a narcissist is fucking awful to say the least. Not only are you not acting better like the stans you hate, you're actively engaging in hardcore ableism towards those with NPD and personality disorders in general. You're adding to the stigma that ppl with NPD/Narcissists are all (inherently) shitty people or shitty people because they're "narcissists". Trump has been labeled a narcissist, JKR has been labeled a narcissist, Viv has been labeled a narcissist. Do you not see a pattern here? There are a thousand other words to describe these people without resorting to this. The same goes for characters like Stolas or Stella. You cant be calling out Viv and her stans for awful behavior and then engage in it yourself.

- a tired anon with NPD"

Submitted by anonymous

[shinigami-social]

I need you people to fucking realize that ADHD is a disorder. A disorder and a disability. Why the fuck is “person with ADHD” the go-to example of “ableist person” in every fucking post on this website.

“oh but I mean people with mild ADHD” say that then. I still don’t think people without ADHD have the fucking right but at least say what you pretend you mean. And, yeah I am also fucking tired of a lot of people with mild ADHD, but that’s anyone with a mild presentation of a disorder in any community. That’s because I am a member of the majority of people diagnosed with ADHD who has moderate or severe ADHD.

You people do understand that ableism, both structural and personal, are incredibly common and normalized against people with ADHD? That the vast majority of us drop out of college, get kicked out of college, or otherwise never attain higher education? That a third of us drop out of high school or otherwise don’t graduate? That our rates of employment are staggeringly lower than the general population (in various studies, 20-40% lower, only about half of subjects with moderate-severe ADHD are able to hold jobs)? That we are more likely to go to prison and receive harsher sentencing? That we are more likely to have substance use disorders, often of more dangerous substances?

The majority of people with ADHD experience suicidal ideation. The majority of people with ADHD engage in self harm. An incredibly significant minority (as high as 1/4 depending on the specific demographics) of people with ADHD have attempted suicide.

People with ADHD are more likely to have comorbid personality disorders, bipolar spectrum disorders, schizophrenia spectrum disorders, and, it goes both fucking ways, people with ADHD are more likely to have autism. Autism is not the owner of ADHD. Autism does not have to precede ADHD. A person does not have to be “autistic with ADHD,” they can just have autism and ADHD.

When you see people “complaining” about the “life expectancy” of ADHD, people might have a wrong idea of what that means, but I need you people to understand that people with ADHD kill themselves, lead high risk lifestyles, and develop severe neurological conditions at staggeringly higher rates than other groups, even those with other mental conditions.

If you are sick and tired of abled neurotypical people, make a fucking post about someone actually in that fucking group.

[utilitycaster]

actually, separating this out from my long-ass post about Ruidusborn As Oppressed Group being an impossibly broken metaphor: I think a huge problem here is that Imogen is, genuinely, a valid if imperfect metaphor for disability on an individual level, but not on a systemic level, and that failure to distinguish the individual from the systemic is a massive problem in a ton of political discourse today. (I also think it underscores a disability-specific issue, that of disability genuinely being a problem for many people with or without the presence of ableism on top of it, which is not true of, say, race, which ceases to be a problem in any capacity in the absence of racism.) In other words: Imogen's experience can be extremely relatable on a personal level both in terms of living with disability/chronic illness, and for a personal experience of discrimination; however, while it stands as a metaphor for experiencing the drawbacks of disability/chronic illness (symptoms, energy levels, decisions one must make, etc) it fails as a metaphor for systems of oppression: it is purely individual.

Imogen's powers are indeed a burden, especially early on! She struggles with them and they cause very specific problems for her on a physical and emotional level. They disrupt her sleep and cause her to make different choices than she would if a potential flare-up (pun genuinely not intended here) were not an ever-present risk. She does not know their source and is frustrated by this. This is completely in line with a metaphor for chronic illness on an individual level, ie, Imogen's experience would be immediately recognizable to someone with a chronic illness, especially someone who had to fight to find a source or get a diagnosis. However, the effects her powers have on other people means that treating her with caution or distancing themselves from a mindreader is not unjustified; which makes it an extremely bad metaphor for discrimination, and in turn for any form of oppression for something that is not a problem in the absence of discrimination, such as sexuality (and I've talked about this extensively before). Again: her experience of isolation may still be relatable to someone who has experienced that for race or sexuality in real life; but only as an individual experience. It does not properly scale in-world to a systemic one.

And, for what it's worth, I think this is the fundamental issue with Bells Hells and their interpretations (and many fandom interpretations of a number of events in C3, and, as mentioned, irl political discourse): the inability to accurate distinguish individual experience from systemic issues (and more generally, the actual root cause). It's what ultimately leads to a story in which Bells Hells make their choices (or don't, as the case may be) on the basis of a falsely assumed universality of highly specific niche experiences. This does not mean, again, that their pain is not valid; but they ascribe it to something that is not in fact responsible. They take a single point and extrapolate not just a line, but an entire plane. And, as in reality, this means the root cause ultimately goes unaddressed while people point fingers.

[maradevi]

The Unusual: A Character Analysis on Bomb (And OJ, sort of)

Introduction

Wanted to make this post seeing as Bomb's been getting discussion again after the recent remaster episode. It goes without saying that Bomb is a complicated character. He, as with many problematic aspects of II1's story - was undeniably crafted as a mean-spirited ableist stereotype, that was consequently "scrubbed clean" off the face of the series up until the recent season two finale and remaster. And it's true. He is evidently a “writer's regret,” severely lacking in modern relevance, and compared to the intentionally-done stories of Suitcase and Knife - critically underdeveloped as a character. 

And yet - I'm drawn to him anyway.

It's hard to argue Bomb is as deliberately written as most of the fuller, modern characters are. Frankly, a large portion of his depth likely wasn't thought about at all, even now - but there is something horribly, and ironically complex about the character he is given. Something that I haven't yet seen discussed in this fandom, or concretely acknowledged by even the canon source. The "overly anxious, bumbling idiot" trope II intended to portray him as, ironically became a self-referential character that has experienced nothing but ableism from other characters, became shaped by his discrimination, and is consequently now a reversal of everything his stereotype limited him to be: affable, easygoing, interpersonally skilled - even teasing and sassy at times. 

I want this essay to humanize a character that is so critically overlooked by both his writers and this fandom. I want this essay to show him in a completely different light than what we're used to seeing - Bomb has grown since season one as something more than just "The Unusual". And while no one needs to like him or enjoy him - understanding Bomb, at the bare minimum, is critical to understanding the arcs of plenty of other well-loved characters (namely OJ, who will get his own analysis section in this essay). 

There will be obvious mentions and descriptions of ableism throughout. Please take care of yourself while reading. I also want to emphasize that although I try to analyze only what has been consistently established, I also acknowledge that a LOT of Bomb’s scenes generally lack intentionality and there is always the likelihood II could eventually release some episode that completely subverts everything about his character. But what he has now, as of the time of writing this, means a lot to me - and that’s what I want to focus on. 

"FALSE ALARM": What it Means, and Why It Fits

There is one other tagline that II gives Bomb beyond "The Unusual"-- and it's "FALSE ALARM,” crudely written on his corpse in the midway point of the season two movie.

And I think, at his very core - this is fundamentally what Bomb is meant to be. It is inherent to his object, even - he is a weapon that harms others, in mass quantities. The whole (initial) purpose of BFDI’s Bomby is to mass kill characters when necessary and freak out when his fuse is lit. And technically, on a surface level, Bomb appears the same way. He blows up when it's funny, his arrival in Idiotic Island causes mass panic, and he screams at the top of his lungs when he sees MePhone's plane fly by at the beginning of season two. But these scenes actually make up only a fraction of his dialogue - and the interesting irony of Bomb is an almost meta-level of self-awareness of what he is, and his attempt to break out of that when he has the autonomy and power to do so.

"Double Digit Desert" in particular points to Bomb's general preference for non-violence and passiveness (or at least, violence that does not involve him blowing up and hurting a bunch of people). Despite clearly having the physical strength and prowess to destroy the desert/his obstacles, his first instinct is to… verbally threaten the fence to move. He is willing to use physical skills to help his ally (OJ), yet interestingly, he abstains from doing so if it would possibly hurt himself or others. The post-ending scene of "The Crappy Cliff (Remastered)" is ESPECIALLY on-the-nose with this - he is aware that yes, he can blow up and kill everyone with ease, but will only do so under the circumstance it helps everyone's problems (that is, getting them out of falling for non-existence). He knows he is made to be a weapon of mass destruction, but actively refuses to live up to that unless given the “yes” from everyone else. His explosions, at least when done of his own will, pretty consistently happens in a controlled environment where it generally won’t harm others/it’s actually needed, in this case. 

Yes, Bomb does have plenty of scenes where he DOES blow up and it’s a big freakout scene - but it's incredibly interesting how none of these examples are done out of his own will or to intentionally harm others, despite being an object that could easily get away with it in the same way Knife is justified for being violent... because, well, you'd expect a knife to do that. And you'd expect Bomb to do that too... but he doesn't - because it’s part of him being a “false alarm.” Funnily enough, as pointed out by a dear friend - there’s also a layer of irony that possibly the only scene where Bomb is actually feared is the one that consequently frees everyone from Idiotic Insanity.

Similarly, a great deal of his lines point to Bomb perhaps being way more introspective and socially aware than what we'd expect (or what the ableist stereotype WANTS us to expect) for the "goofy idiot.” His very first line in "A Lemonly Lesson" is him speaking up about Balloon treating Taco aggressively and calling him out for it (and interestingly enough, in the remaster - OJ, the "nice guy character" actually encourages Balloon to treat Taco awfully right after that - acting as a very interesting foil to Bomb). He becomes saddened and seemingly ashamed when Pickle wordlessly admonishes him (for his literal disability) in “War de Guacamole.” In later episodes, he picks up on OJ not caring about him as a person - he just wants to satiate his own savior complex, hence why the whole ""betrayal"" arc happens (more on that later). In spite of it all, he’s even able to separate strategic plays in the competition from his personal relationships (throwing OJ aside to win the challenge - which I want to quickly clarify that characters like Silver Spoon do things like this all the time without it being seen as a reflection on their personal relationships, so I see no reason why this logic can’t also be applied to Bomb) - something OJ actually HADN'T developed yet, hence why Bomb gets confused when OJ takes the betrayal so harshly. And when OJ continuously treats him awfully throughout the rest of season one, he eventually has enough and sassily votes for him in "The Penultimate Poll" (even mocking OJ's self-victimization). 

Even his little scenes in the finale further this characterization: he leads Cheesy directly into a pun and beats him at his own wordplay, showing that although the characters around him take him as incompetent or socially inept - he is actually, perhaps, way more socially mature than a great deal of characters. 

But at the same time, it’s also INCREDIBLY important to me that Bomb is also, at heart, incredibly sweet and gentle. Obviously he has his moments in season one, but literally every single II1 character was bigoted and/or really mean for no reason (consequence of being written by 13-year-olds, I guess). He did genuinely care about OJ and did plenty to help him, up to a certain point (when OJ admittedly generally did not reciprocate this level of asssistance). He didn't want to be violent against a fence for crying out loud. He openly mourns the death of his best friend by trying to play his favorite game in his honor, his first question about the whole situation being to ask about Pickle - even after he was left in the dark about what exactly happened to him. And even though he was one of the few people who would have legitimate reason to not like Balloon - he (alongside Pickle) was the first person of the II1 cast to invite him to hang out again.

This even applies to OJ (although it's very unlikely Bomb and OJ are really "friends" as much as they are just on passive terms nowadays) - this guy was so, so terrible to him in season one, and yet Bomb shows no sign of what would be very justified bitterness or hurt past that little bit of sassiness in "The Penultimate Poll.” He's a VERY big forgiver in a way while still being pretty firm about not letting himself just get run over (which becomes a very interesting parallel to Paper later on!). So much of his interactions revolve around wanting to assist or help others, too - trying to uplift Cheesy during the redline game or putting everyone out of their misery at the end of II1 remaster, namely. Bomb is one of the characters (like Cabby) that would have every single right to be angry and hurt at the way he's been treated by virtually everyone, even to this day - and yet, he isn't. He is happy. He is gentle. And he likes plants - that just shows how easygoing he is, right? (/silly)

And he can be blunt, just as he can be sassy: he can choose when to be silly and when to be serious. He is NOT as emotionally volatile as his stereotype wants him to be - even his background scenes in season two supplement this, as he quickly puts a pause on his silly dances/reactions to watch Balloon as he enters the hotel in "Rain on Your Charade." Yeah, Bomb definitely has some strange reactions at (admittedly most) times in season two - but so much of his more serious scenes point to this being a choice he makes deliberately, rather than something he just... does because "goofy guy!” I'll get more into why I personally think he does this, but the point ultimately is that Bomb is surprisingly very evenly-tempered as a character, and is perhaps way more socially intelligent than AE even intended him to be taken as. 

It all leads back to his coding: being a false alarm. We expect a bomb to be one step away from lighting its fuse and blowing up. We expect Bomb (as a character) to be volatile, reckless, violent. But none of that ever happens. He is composed, soft(er)-spoken, passive, well-meaning - and certainly thinks and speaks much more carefully than what the people around him expect.

Bombjay: It sucks, and that's why we love it (+ a smaller analysis on OJ/Paper)

Of all things Bomb is probably most utilized or known for in this fandom - it's specifically his dynamic with OJ. And for very, very good reason. Bomb and OJ are, undoubtedly - a toxic and power-imbalanced relationship (in the context of canon). It gets to the point that even the writing pretty explicitly blames OJ for everything that happened. That's even the biggest point of criticism Pickle has against OJ during "The Penultimate Poll" - and while OJ acts like the catalyst was Bomb's "betrayal," in my eyes at least - their relationship was actually doomed from its very conception. So long as Bomb's disability began to "inconvenience him" (in other words, just exist at all) - it was never going to mesh well with OJ's self-centered savior complex. It's, although depressing, a golden example of how people very often prop up and parade around with disabled people to feel "good" about themselves for allegedly "saving them" from their lives. 

At his core, OJ is a caretaker/provider who is VERY obsessed with being the perfect example. He does not care if you don't want his help - he knows best, and is the most "rational" guy on the team, so it's his “saving” you'll be dealing with for the rest of your life. It's part of what makes his character as the "hero of II" so complicated and nuanced: there are times his heart is truly in the right place, just misguided by true ignorance/not knowing any better. And there are plenty of times he convinces himself his heart is in the right place, when he is in reality being nothing but condescending and snarky. And there are other times where he is just outright rude and cruel to people knowingly, but gives himself a pass because "I'm good everywhere else. It’s fine if I’m mean just this one time.” But the worst part is - OJ is technically validated in his way of thinking. He isn't immediately wrong about being one of the more rational characters. There really isn't any other character in II that would so willingly want to create communal housing for the others or have the willpower to actually maintain it. He knows he is good at what he is doing, and he exploits the hell out of that.

Except Bomb did not validate that way of thinking, and that's exactly where the fallout happened.

OJ showed signs very early on his care for Bomb was incredibly conditional - all the way back in "4Seeing the Future,” he notably gets irritated when Bomb accidentally throws his cookie into the air (rejecting HIS gift!). He happily lets Bomb talk to him when it’s validating his opinions about Balloon in "Sugar Rush," but when Bomb tries to explain how he returned in "Double Digit Desert" - OJ immediately cuts him off and tells him to "forget it." Anything Bomb tries to say that takes longer than two seconds to listen to is immediately brushed off by OJ, who, evidently - is only interested in how he can "save this pitiful guy" to make himself *feel* good. He's not interested at all in what Bomb himself has to say, and that's something Bomb evidently starts to figure out himself toward the end of "Double Digit Desert."

And this is ultimately what leads up to their big fallout at the end of the competition. Of course, Bomb himself isn't a golden standard of niceness (as most II1 characters are) - but I think it's often overlooked that Bomb had only loosely suggested that he should win when OJ immediately retorts that it should be him, because "he's smarter." OJ doesn't think for a second - his ally, who had previously helped him all throughout the challenge - might possibly be deserving of the win, and, while obviously cruel, absolutely shows very explicitly how OJ's tolerance of Bomb was just that: conditional tolerance. Bomb giving even the slightest suggestion that he might not fit perfectly into OJ's savior fantasy instantly shattered any hope of their friendship succeeding past this point.

Coupled with OJ's vaguely ableist-sentiment doubting Bomb's intelligence - I do believe that's exactly why Bomb ends up shoving (and killing) him. It clicks in his head this guy does not care much about him - but interestingly, at the same time, Bomb initially doesn't seem to perceive this act as a betrayal as much as it was maybe a minor disagreement, if not just a strategic way of winning a competition. It's exactly why Bomb gets so confused in the following episode, where he happily goes up to OJ and calls out for him - only to be immediately shut down by OJ, berated, and then ditched for Paper. 

So funnily enough - it's not really Bomb's actions that hurt OJ. It's OJ constructing a false image of Bomb in his mind, and when that helpless image of Bomb got broken - OJ betrayed himself, and consequently hurt his own ego. 

OJ effectively door slamming on Bomb as soon as that perfect little image got shattered is another HUGE indicator their alliance was, at best: conditional. The moment OJ no longer needs to play into the role of being Bomb's "savior,” he goes completely mask-off in his ableism. He outright states this himself: "I accepted you for who you are!" When Bomb tries to explain himself, he refuses to hear him out and jumps to Paper instead (actually making it a point to state he's only allowing Paper to be with him to "get back at Bomb", in a way). Then, funnily enough, he exhibits the same immediate withdrawal tendencies to Paper themself later on in the episode when he tells them "Between you and Bomb, I feel like I'm in a mental hospital." It conspires all the way to Bomb's elimination, where OJ just HAS to get the last word in about how Bomb "deserves" it for ""betraying"" him. 

The slightest bit of resistance, from someone that isn't expected to "resist" - instantly seems to absolutely destroy OJ's world. Every interaction he has with Bomb throughout the rest of the season is literally just OJ trying to make it a point "you did something bad and you should feel bad for me." 

All this to say this isn't meant to be an attempt to demonize OJ - it's actually a very critical point of his character development, and understanding exactly where his savior complex later on comes from. Bomb possibly suggesting that his "saving" isn't exactly helping questions his very existence - and it thus results in OJ having an extreme meltdown that leads to him self-victimizing himself, because if Bomb isn't the one in the wrong - then HE is, and that can't be possible, because he has to be a good person. He needs to be the hero. OJ is VERY horribly ableist to Bomb, but in a way, it may even be internalized ableism to himself - not addressing his fixation on being a hero is, in fact, unhealthy and incredibly damaging for his esteem.

But this is where Paper comes in - and is exactly why Bomb and Paper, surprisingly, have two incredibly interesting parallels. Paper is set up as the “same formula, different answer” side of Bomb - their relationship begins in eerily similar contexts. The Paper/OJ alliance starts out with Paper literally below him. It's not Paper giving OJ a chance - it's OJ giving Paper the opportunity of "okay, prove you're better than Bomb." Then when EP/Looseleaf comes into the picture, it evolves into "now how can I save YOU?". I do believe OJ's intentions with EP are more genuine than it was with Bomb - but at heart, it is still the same thing of OJ wanting to save someone. Only, because Paper is much more vulnerable and ""newer"" to socializing, in a way (than Bomb is at least) - they let him. They actively need someone to rely on, and OJ seems to fit perfectly into that mold. Getting rid of EP seems like a good answer to both of them - and when Paper does "overcome their evil alter!!!", OJ gets the self-validation that look, he DID help someone! And now Paper should be indebted to him.

"The Tile Divide" is an all but explicit parallel to "Double Digit Desert": only Paper is a doormat. Their imbalanced relationship with OJ has made them subtly become the “inferior,” and so their solution is to fawn/play into that, rather than Bomb's solution of "I should stand up for myself." Tile Divide is a test to determine whether or not Paper/OJ is going to last beyond the competition, and by Paper allowing OJ to win - and, most importantly, accepting and framing it as "punishment" for them not helping him earlier with his orange juice problem - is exactly what made Payjay last and Bombjay fail. OJ tries to project his fear/insecurity of a similar ""betrayal"" happening again (by calling Paper a traitor/backstabber for trying to go help Taco with her lemon problem), but rather than pointing out that's a silly idea - Paper buckles to the idea instead. They unintentionally cement OJ's perspective as them being "inferior," but they also cause OJ to become very attached to them because they eased his fears about not being needed. It makes their relationship, in the same stroke it destroys it - at least until this power imbalance gets formally acknowledged in "The Reality of the Situation." 

Bombjay is complicated. It's messy. But it's a huge part of why both characters are the way they are (and is even fundamental in setting up Payjay, I'd argue). And all of this is largely why I believe Bomb and OJ can never truly become close again - it's likely very similar to how OJ (apparently) sort of just accepts Taco is around again post-finale, even after her “evil reveal.” He gets too busy to care or think too much, although the "betrayal" probably still stings. And in Bomb's case - all that ableism and belittling radically shapes how he starts to act in season two and onwards - but he still isn't nearly petty enough (beyond sassing OJ in "The Penultimate Poll") to carry on their rivalry. And so they both set season one aside, even though the wounds are still there, and they still hurt - but maybe, those wounds sting slightly less if they just keep their space away from each other - and that means not acknowledging the problem anymore as well.

Bomb and... everyone else (and how it shapes him)

Unsurprisingly, it's not just OJ that treats Bomb poorly, though.

It's hard to talk about Bomb without separating him from his stereotype - the writing, both currently and back in II1 - does not treat him well. Everyone sees him in a condescending way. Even the writing sometimes tunnel visions him as just some "goofy guy" that can't do much else but make silly expressions. I don't want to blame the characters as much as I do the writing - but it's hard, when Bomb is pretty much universally seen in an "inferior light" and is very notably treated differently in the plot from everyone else. But at the same time, it's undoubtedly a huge part of why Bomb progressively becomes more passive, quiet, and less outspoken in the later series.

I think "War de Guacamole" is probably the most mean-spirited about this: they very overexaggerate his stammer, and all of the characters stop to stare at him in disdain. Pickle even makes it a point to stare down at Bomb and glare like he's a misbehaving child - over a disability he can't control. II2 becomes more subtle with it, but undoubtedly other characters continue to treat Bomb like a chore/hassle more than a person. Soap proclaims she "shouldn't have to worry about Bomb making a mess" in the first edition of the II comics. When Microphone notices the TV wasn't unplugged in "Through No Choice of Your Own," she jumps to accusing Bomb of plugging the video game back in - and although her assumption isn't illogical, her groaning and tone of voice when scolding him in a manner similar to a child - evidently hints at a condescending attitude that is VERY different from how characters normally address each other. When most other characters get a moment to mourn their loved ones, Bomb is virtually left in the dark about what happened to Pickle as Baseball doesn't reply to his question about his death - while none of these are likely deliberate on any of these character's parts, it becomes a depressingly recurring pattern of Bomb being brushed aside, seen as a problem, or just... not important. It's incredibly similar to the Thinkers infantilizing or treating Yin-Yang like a child/animal - only Bomb gets much less closure in that regard, as he's evidently still seen as a problem.

Personally, I have a lot of beef with how Bomb is written from a meta-perspective still. Too much of his relevance in the finale is just lightly (or sometimes seriously) scolding him for doing "something out of line." He apparently acts out about the video games, he freaks Cheesy out during the red line game, so forth. He has less... normal interactions, and more so needs to be scolded or kept in line by others. And while it's very likely his emotional maturity previously established was just unintentional implications - it goes pretty depressingly against what we've seen prior. 

But meta criticisms aside, this ultimately leads me to my main point: Bomb, as established by him sassing OJ, knows what ableism is. He recognizes when he is being treated poorly, and he reacts accordingly. And in this case, it's largely why I interpret his involvement in season two as becoming deliberately quieter and reserved to avoid being belittled. I don't really have as much concrete evidence for this as much as it is just how I personally interpret it. Thus:

The Unintentional Implications/Interpretations of Bomb

I view post-II1 Bomb as a self-fulfilling prophecy in a way. He has become so used to being relegated as the goofy guy people find tiring - that he plays into that to an absurd degree. We've seen in little background scenes that Bomb is very capable of controlling how he reacts to things, meaning his sillier/absurd moments are likely much more conscious than we think. And because it's conscious, it leads to me interpreting this as Bomb avoiding the ableism that's plagued him all his life, by almost trying to play into it. Obviously, he won't stand for someone being as blatant about it as OJ - but it's much easier to not be made fun of if you just... be silly about it, and be quiet.

And in some ways, perhaps it isn't really a conscious decision on Bomb's part to play into this role - maybe it's the ableist treatment of him that has actually locked him into being seen as just a silly guy. Cheesy being shocked that Bomb could actually out-pun him shows that people really don't expect much wittiness from him, Mic/Soap have both established Bomb is seen as a liability at times, etc etc. So even though Bomb acting "ordinary" and "aware" is actually what his personality consistently is (as demonstrated numerous times!), it comes off as a shocker to everyone else because they just assume he's the weird guy. Maybe that is also part of his coding as a false alarm - his coding might not necessarily affect him, as much as it does affect everyone else - warping their perceptions to perceive Bomb as an absurdity or a threat, when in reality he’s just some guy.

But this discussion is largely speculative. The II1 remaster will have a lot of things to add to Bomb, and I don't want to make conclusive statements about anything until it finishes Bomb's story. I will say from what we have so far, however - their rehandling of Bomb definitely plays a lot into Bomb truly being more of an ordinary, sweet, and level-headed guy - just surrounded by a bunch of people who aren't very kind to him.

Concluding Thoughts (Why I Love Bomb - And You Should, Too)

Bomb isn't well-written. I will say that very point blank: he is not. 

But he is complexly written (...at least with OJ). No matter how unintentional, talking about his nuance is interesting. His arc is perhaps one of the most important in II1, if not the greater II as a whole for how it builds up OJ in particular. His character is treated cruelly, and yet in that cruelty - I resonate with him, and that's exactly why I think generating discussion about him, well-written or not - is so critically important and fun to me.

And although his current base is not great, I have faith in the II1 remaster for a perhaps kinder depiction of Bomb. I greatly enjoy the additional supplementation they have given thus far - generally leaving his lines alone, but giving his character more weight and intentionality in what he does. He becomes recognized and written for being Bomb - not for his disability (as a mean-spirited joke, that is). 

But even without the remaster, I still truly believe Bomb deserves much more than being perhaps the least talked-about character of II1 (second to maybe Salt or Pepper?). OJ is a great part of his character, and Bomb is a great part of OJ's in turn - but both are so deeply complex by themselves that discussion like this can be generated for either in great length, separately. I know a large majority will likely not agree with my more favorable opinion of Bomb, but so long as he might become something more for some person: that is the goal of this essay, at the end of the day. 

He is a flawed character, but he, ironically enough - becomes an even stronger character within these flaws. And in my eyes: any character that can generate this amount of discourse in length, has done something right enough to be compelling, even if it’s to just one person.

[romancerepulsed]

maybe this is a "hot take," but it's something i genuinely believe is true. aphobes can broadly be sorted into 3 categories: the uninformed, the bigot, and the bully. there is overlap between all 3, and i'm sure there are some people out there who are aphobic in a fun new way that i can't possibly conceive of yet, but i think these categories are fairly accurate and helpful for an aspec to recognize.

the uninformed aphobe is what it sounds like– they either don't know anything about the aspectrum or they've been fed false information about it. this is the only type of aphobe that is ever worth engaging with, and only to politely correct them and point them towards resources that would help them broaden their understanding. i'll be completely honest though: you'd be pretty damn lucky if you managed to actually singlehandedly change their mind. if they're not receptive to your corrections, simply move on. it's not worth the headache. you at least gave them something to think about.

the bigot, in contrast, is absolutely never worth engaging with. the bigoted aphobe is aphobic simply because aspec people are queer and they hate queer people. terfs famously used (and still continue to use) aphobic rhetoric as a sort of gateway drug for transphobia. the people who will argue that aspec folks aren't queer are often the same people who despise us because they associate us with queerness.

the third aphobe is actually the most common on this website, i think, and they're the reason i'm making this post. the aphobic bully may know full well the fundamentals of the aspectrum, but they will simplify and misrepresent it on purpose in an attempt to make aspec people look bad. aspec people have long been "acceptable targets" of bullying on this site for a reason that is fairly obvious to me but one i haven't seen anyone else point out: aspec people are largely neurodivergent. it's really no coincidence that ace discourse and cringe culture peaked at around the same time– they were one in the same, and the treatment aspec and autistic people received were (and still are) damn near identical. portraying aspec people as cringey teenagers who watched too many cartoons and are just too socially awkward for anyone to love them or whatever... it's a sentiment thats existed for years and years now. it took me a while to realize it, but this is why so many "tumblr funnymen" and other assorted popular blogs were/are aphobes too– they've got egos the size of china but they know they can't get away with blatantly picking on autistic people. so they'll hide behind a guise of aspec exclusionism, something that's unfortunately viewed as a real and valid ideology for someone to have. even aside from the thinly veiled ableism, bullies are always coming from a place of insecurity and projecting it onto other people. i've found that a lot of the most vicious aphobes are people who are struggling romantically or sexually. you can see them post about it, you can see even in the most recent discourse so many of these people are deeply stressed and hurt from whatever romantic or sexual struggles they're facing. to them, someone being unconcerned with those sorts of things is almost offensive because it means so much to them. they read it as a challenge to their own allo identity. so, why not take out that frustration on the aspecs?

it goes without saying that the bully isn't worth engaging with, either. they want to rile you up because it makes them feel better about themselves. don't give them that satisfaction.

[cripplecharacters]

I'm writing a character with chronic pain and cerebral palsy who has a problem with pushing himself too hard and holding himself to impossible standards (just internalised ableism things). He does things like skipping baths and pulling all-nighters so he can dedicate more time to practicing the piano. He's constantly critical of himself and never satisfied about his skill level. He has a character arc of learning to take care of himself, understanding his own needs and limits, and unlearning his internalised ableism. Is it considered the "disability as punishment" trope if his chronic pain and other complications flare up more when he neglects his basic needs in favour of trying to work as hard as possible? I guess it goes without saying that the more his complications flare up, the less he can practice.

Hello,

No, what you're describing is very much a thing that happens in real life, whether we realize we're doing it or not. Even people without disabilities can find themselves doing this, ignoring their needs in favour of working on something. He's not really being punished for something and he's not gaining a disability as part of the punishment, he's doing what a lot of people do, overworking himself, and dealing with the natural impact that has on his body. That's fine. Disability as punishment would be he did something to hurt someone or try to hurt someone and as retaliation, he got, say, beaten so badly that it broke his spine. He did a bad thing and his punishment, in place of legal repercussions or similar, is that he now has to suffer life with a disability. You are not doing that. It's not even really his body punishing him because the body is incapable of the sentience required to act maliciously. He is injuring his body and because his body is injured, he is in pain. If he stabs himself in the stomach he now has a stab wound in his stomach, if he pushes his body to hard he now has damage to his body. That's just natural consequences

As for the character arc, I like it. That's a thing a lot of people, both disabled and not disabled, have to go through, learning to listen to their body, take care of themselves, and stop harming themselves. He's just learning that he's being self-destructive and that he shouldn't be self-destructive and needs to have a bit of love and compassion for himself. This is something a lot of people are painfully familiar with- many reading this might be going through this process themselves. It happens in real life and there's no harm in depicting it as long as you depict it accurately. It sounds fine to me.

Mod Aaron

[gnome-adjacent-vagabond]

Psst hey *pulls you closer* Canon middle-aged queer relationships and multiple canon queer/queer-coded characters. *lets you go* Go watch Venture Bros.

There are WAY more than these but I can't put em all up here because queer coding is up to interpretation. I say that everyone in Venture Bros is queer until proven straight but that's just me.

I wrote a whole-ass essay and then accidentally deleted it so the wording on this will probably be off, but it feels important so I'm gonna try be succinct.

Minor spoilers ahead! Skip paragraph three if you don't want those, then resume on paragraph four.

Full disclosure, this is a show that started in the early 2000s and has a LOT of issues in the first few seasons as well as a couple in the later seasons. There are transphobic and homophobic jokes, ableism, racism, and sexism. Sergeant Hatred is a walking trigger warning for about three seasons straight. It goes without saying but I'll say it anyway: DON'T watch this show if you have multiple triggers or are easily offended.

Having said that, these writers realized the problems with what they were writing and have worked to remedy those issues through commentary, retconning, and public acknowledgement of the early seasons' failings. Their opinions evolve and so does the show.

Shore Leave is a flamboyantly gay man who was initially intended to be a one-off joke about the G.I. Joe series and the Village People. Instead he has morphed into a three-dimensional character who presents comfortably as both masculine and feminine. He's in a loving relationship with another gay man, Al, who is flamboyant but tends to be a little less flashy. Steve Summers and Sasquatch have been a happy couple for years now--and all because the epitome of toxic masculinity, Brock Samson, helps them find a quiet cabin away from the government hunting them. Brock's mentor, Hunter Gathers, is a canonically detransitioned trans woman who struggles with her identity throughout the show (I'm still waiting for her to retransition despite the show's cancellation). Hank is perfectly at ease in a hyperfeminine strength suit, and Dean also goes through identity struggles that are never played for laughs and are heavily if not explicitly queer-coded. Vendata's queerness is understated and exists simply as a fact rather than being joked about. Sky Pilot is similar, though slightly more in Shore Leave's camp in terms of presentation. Sheila and the Monarch are self-proclaimed swingers and could be read to be in a poly relationship with Gary, their henchman. Debbie St. Simone has a rather homoerotic obsession with Sheila and is almost definitely bisexual.

The Venture Bros universe is full of queer rep, and the creators of the show write it in with intention. Doc Hammer and Jackson Publick talk about wanting it to be treated as fact rather than completely defining each of their characters--they talk about how few women are in the show and why (Johnny Quest and G.I. Joe, the inspirations for Venture Bros, are heavily malecentric and there's constant homoeroticism in them for that reason). They acknowledge the flaws and work to improve themselves and their writing. This has culminated in a surprisingly moving series about love, death, grief, trauma, and change that radiates queer subtext from any angle--especially Dean's journey.

Try the show at least up to season 4. The first three seasons are on Netflix and the rest are on Adult Swim. If you still don't like it, that's fine. Thank you for trying! Just know that it's out there and that it's an example of how human beings can change and become better people. Doc Hammer and Jackson Publick aren't perfect and neither is the Venture Bros, but for what it is it's a damn fun (shockingly so) show.