#also i had to report someone for useing homophobic slurs!

[ghostcrows]

Favorite splat3 pride messages so far

[cosyvelvetorchid]

On Tommy getting cornered by Captain Gerrard. And emotional Tommy gets comforted by Buck.

Please make it Fluff/angsty

This is one of my favourites I’ve written so far so thank you 🩶

And heads up there are some trigger warnings.

TW: Homophobic laughable/slurs. Death of a child.

***

Every member of the 118 A shift knew they’d be in the firing line of Gerrard. All of them being from at least one minority group or another (or more than one in Hens case). But Hen and Chimney especially knew that they’d be in Gerrards crosshairs given that they were both part of the 118 back in Gerrard’s previous captaincy, as well as Hen specifically being the catalyst to Gerrard losing the 118 in the first place.

They had both done their best to warn and prepare Buck, Eddie and Ravi for what they were about to endure and witness and did their best to encourage them to stay strong. They also reminded them that they were a family no matter what and they needed to trust and rely on each other to get them through however long Gerrard was going to be back for.

What none of them saw coming was Tommy being the first one to break.

*

Gerrard had been at the helm for 2 weeks. His comments and behaviour were by no means acceptable (he’d made numerous comments about immigrants in the presence of, or directly to, Eddie and Ravi, and Hen hadn’t seen the outside of the station at all due to her being “better suited to domestic work”), but he was a somewhat diluted version of the Gerrard that they’d had before.

They weren’t stupid - they knew it wouldn’t take long for his true, full self to rear its ugly head above the parapet eventually. All they could do in the mean time was wait for it.

The team, minus Hen, were called out to a 5-alarm fire at a clothing factory on the edge of Angeles Forest. 3 other stations were tackling the blaze along side them and they were struggling to get it under control.

“Captain, I think we should call in air support for fire suppression. It won’t put the whole thing out but it’ll give us a fighting chance of getting under control.” Buck suggested to Gerrard.

“So you can make twinkly eyes at your boyfriend? Absolutely not. Your perversion do not belong on the job.” He replied, his words dripping in acidity.

Buck took every ounce of inner strength he had to bite down his blood cuddling urge to knock the bastard out right there.

“He’s not even working tonight. Harbour can help Capt-“

“I said no!” He yelled back at Buck. “Now you get your sissy ass back to work. Someone reported a structural issue on the east side of the building. Go and check it out.” He demanded.

Bucks hands were balled so tightly at his sides he felt the pins and needles washing over them.

“Eddie!” Buck called over to him. “Come with-“

“Diaz will not bring going with you. Now get your ass moving or you won’t have a job come sunrise.” Gerrard threatened. Eddie stepped forward ready to say something but Buck held his hand up to him.

“It’s fine.” He said as he put his breathing apparatus and helmet back on and jogged around to the east side of the building. He walked through the open door and shone his flashlight around and above him. He could hear the wooden beam above him creaking as it moved and swelled.

The light beam from the flashlight caught one of the inner walls and Buck noticed a large crack on the bottom half of the concrete wall that was slowly snaking its way upwards.

“Shit.”

He pressed his radio. “This is firefighter Buckley for Captain Gerrard.” He got no response. Before he could radio again the windows behind him began to crack under the weight of the shifting ceiling above him.

“Come in Captain Gerrard!” He called into his radio again. “The building is about to collapse. Everybody needs to evacuate now!”

The beam above was creaking louder and Buck could see the dust being disrupted and falling from it in the beam of the flashlight. The crack on the wall had met with the ceiling and had continued along towards the beam in the center.

Suddenly the beam shifted on one side and began to drop down. Buck quickly backed away and turned to run as the rest of the beam and the surrounding ceiling began crashing down with a cascading effect chasing Buck towards the exit door.

Buck jumped through the doorway and landed with on his feet a few feet away. He felt the twist in his ankle as he landed but continued to scramble with his hands and feet along the ground to get away from the collapsing building.

The whole east side of the building had collapsed in mere seconds. Eddie and Chimney immediately began running in the direction of where Buck and gone, ignoring Gerrards demands for them to stop.

“Buck!” Eddie called out. They could barely see two feet in front of them from the dust cloud the collapse caused.

“Firefighter Buckley status check.” Eddie called into her radio. Only static was heard in response. “Buck!” He yelled.

“He-here!” Came a coughing voice behind them towards the trees that ran behind the factory. The 2 of them ran in that direction and as the dust dissipated Bucks figure came into view sat upright on the ground, leaning to one side trying to get his breath back.

“Are you hurt?” Chim asked kneeling down next to to him to assess him. Buck shook his head through another cough.

“I’m okay. Just twisted my ankle that’s all.” Chim insisted on checking him over anyway and checked his pulse and pupils.

“Pupils are normal and reactive. Pulse is a little up there but given you almost got crushed by a collapsing building it’s understandable.”

“What the fuck was he thinking sending you in there alone?” Eddie angrily asked.

“It’s my fault.” Buck said.

“No. This is not one of those times where you’re going to take on someone else’s burdens. He ordered you you in here alone. This is on him.” Chimney told him.

“Yeah but only because I pissed him off.”

“How?” Eddie asked.

“I suggested we call in air support. He thought it was because I wanted to see Tommy. I told him he wasn’t even on shift tonight. Ah.” He winced as Chim checked his ankle.

“It’s probably not broken, just a sprain. I’ll bandage it up for now but you’re going to need an X-ray..”

“Great.” Buck said annoyed and let his body fell back onto the grass behind him in frustration.

*

The only reason Buck was allowed to go to the hospital was because they had another patient in the back of the ambulance and were going to the hospital anyway.

An hour later he was in the front of the ambulance as Chim drove them back to the station. Thankfully it was just a sprain and he’d be back to normal in a week or so.

“Do me a favour? Don’t tell Tommy about this. I will tell him but when I get home.”

“Oh.” Chim replied sheepishly.

“You didn’t?” Buck questioned.

“I’m sorry, okay. I didn’t know you didn’t want him to know.” Chim argued.

“He’s already worried about me, this is going to send him into orbit.” He dropped his head against the headrest.

They pulled into the station and Buck tentatively got out of the ambulance. Thankfully he didn’t need crutches and could walk, just with a bit of a limp. As they walked around the ambulance and the locker room came into view he saw Hen sat on the bench rubbing someone’s back. It was a back that Buck immediately recognised.

“Tommy?” He said as he walked through the locker room doors. Now that he could see Tommy from the front he could see that he was crying. He immediately slid down to the ground in front of him and winced at the pain that shot up from his ankle and up through his shin but he ignored it.

“Baby, what’s wrong?” Tommy didn’t look at Buck, just grabbed on his turn out jacket. “Hey, hey, it’s okay I’m here.” He pulled Tommys head into the crook of his neck as his sobs began to vibrate into Bucks chest.

“What the fuck happened?” Buck bit at Hen. She knew his tart tone wasn’t meant for her.

“What do you think? Or should I said who do you think?”

“Piece of shit.” Buck “what did he do?”

“I’m honestly not exactly sure. He saw Tommy coming in and knew it would be for you. All I saw from the mezzanine was him walking up to Tommy saying something and Tommy walking in here, punching the wall and then..” she gestured with her hand to Tommys current state.

“Tommy?” Buck dipped his head down to see Tommys face. “I don’t know what happened and we don’t have to talk about it this very second, but I need to know that you’re okay.”

Tommy took a couple of deep breaths and sniffs and slowly sat up and his eyes met Bucks. Bucks heart almost broke at the broken look on his loves face. Tommy nodded gently.

“I’m.. I’m okay.” He wiped his eyes forcefully with the heels of his palms and swallowed. “Can we.. I need to get out of here. Please.” The pleading look in his destroyed Buck.

“Of course, babe. I just need to call an uber.” Tommy looked at him confused. “Oh, I twisted my ankle on the scene.” He left out the reason - now as not the time for that. Tommys expression immediately transformed into concern for him.

“What? How? Are you okay?” He eyes were looking Buck all over as though he were assessing for damage. Buck put a hand on Tommys cheek to still him.

“I’m okay, babe. Really. Im far more concerned about you. But can you give me a minute to get out of my gear?” He asked gently and Tommy nodded. “Will you-“ he began to say to Hen but she already knew what he was going to say.

“I got him.”

“I’ll be right back, Tommy. I promise.” He limped out of the locker room and over to the cubbies to remove his turn outs and quickly made his way back to the locker room to change into his civvies. Chimney, Eddie and Ravi had walked in after him all looking worryingly at Tommy.

“Ravi, you think you could order me and Tommy an Uber?” Buck asked.

“Sure.” He said taking out his phone.

“Tommy. You think you can tell me what happened?” Buck asked gently.

Tommy took a few stilling breaths before speaking.

“Howie texted me to say that you’d been hurt and you’d need a ride home so I came over. I walked in and Gerrard saw me and came over. He said people.. people like me have no place here and I need to leave. I told him I was here to get you and I wasn’t leaving without you .” He took another few deep breaths. “He said ‘like you left Alice Brady’?” Tommy closed his eyes and tried to swallow away the emotion that was rising in his throat. Hen and Chimney looked at each other.

“Oh my God.” Hen whispered.

“What?” Buck asked. “Who’s Alice Brady.”

Tommy bowed his head and his breath caught in his throat. Buck leaned in closer, still knelt on the floor beside him, and tightly squeezed Tommys hand.

“Couple of months before Gerrard was relieved of duty, we had a call at a townhouse. Family home; mom, dad, 2 kids. Second floor was already engulfed when we got there. Parents and the oldest kid had gotten out but the youngest, Alice, her bedroom was in the third floor. Sal and Tommy managed to get enough of the fire out to clear a path to the 3rd floor stairs but a beam came down, hitting Sal on the shoulder. It was a simple dislocation, but the beam was blocking the stairs and he couldn’t help Tommy lift it. Eli came and took Sal to get looked at and Tommy radioed for back up to help lift the beam. The only person that was available was Gerrard and he refused to go inside. The little girl, she.. uh, she didn’t make it.”

“Shit.” Eddie said asking his head.

“I could hear her screaming for help. I-I tried so hard to lift it, I really did, but I.. I wasn’t enough. I couldn’t.. she… the screaming stopped.”

“Oh Tommy. I’m so sorry.” Buck lifted himself up to sit on the bench and wrapped his arms around Tommy.

“It’s my fault she died.” He sobbed into Bucks chest.

“No, no, no. It was not your fault. Do you hear me? It was his.

“We have to do something about him.” Ravi said through gritted teeth. “It’s a miracle Buck only got a twisted ankle. One of us is going to end up dead because of that fucking bastard.”

Everyone looked at him. Nobody had ever heard him swear before.

“Ravi, you-“ Eddie tried to speak but was interrupted but a shout across the station.

“Captain Vincent Gerrard!”

Everybody looked out the locker room window to see Bobby in his uniform, flanked by two other uniformed men they didn’t recognise.

“Cap? What’s going on?” Hen asked walking out of the locker room, followed but everyone else.

“I can’t talk now firefighter Wilson. Captain Gerrard you need to come out here now!”

The creaking red door that lead to The captains office at the far end of the station opened and Gerrard walked out and towards Captain Nash and the other two men.

“What are you doing here, Nash? Come to check on your diversity team?” Gerrard scoffed. “They’re no longer your team now, remember.” He smirked. “So you wasted a trip. You may as well go back home to your… wife.”

It was clear as day to everyone that had Captain Nash not been with two other LAFD officers he would have said the word he’d stopped himself from saying. Everyone knew exactly what word he was going to use.

“Actually Captain Gerrard I’m here to give you this.” He handed him and official looking sheet of paper.

Gerrards face twisted into something angry.

“What the hell is this, Nash?!”

“Effective immediately you are suspended, without pay, from any and all duties within the Los Angeles Fire Department.” Sounds of shock were heard from everyone in the station. “You are to attend a disciplinary hearing in 2 days time with the LAFD ethics department where it will be determined if you are fit for duty. You are entitled to bring your union rep, if you do not have a union rep or advocate then one will be appointed for you.”

“How did you manage this? Huh? You been sucking cock like your men there?” He pointed to Tommy and Buck stood watching the event in front of them, opened mouthed, just like everybody else. “Is that where they leaned it from? You made them to blow you first?”

It was a disgusting accusation that each member of the 118 had to find strength to not retaliate against. Bobby seemed to know exactly what everyone was thinking of doing in response to Gerrards low dig and he just raised his palm to them and they stopped themselves from doing anything they’d later regret.

“On whose authority is this?” Gerrard spat gesturing with the piece of paper.

“The Chiefs.” Was his answer. “See, when you were all the way over here taking my job, the chief was offering me a new one: Captain of the LAFDs ethics board. So when an anonymous person called today saying that you had deliberately ignored a safety call on the radio, we must immediately investigate.”

“Who do you think they’ll believe? Me or the desperate former 118 captain. A man who can’t walk past a liquor store with getting a hard on and who killed his own kids and wife?” Gerrard spat.

Captain Nash slowly took a few steps forward until he was mere inches away from Gerrard. He leaned forward getting his face as close to Gerrards as possible so Gerrard could hear him whisper.

“Get the fuck out of my house.”

[batpoisonz]

My experience as a 2S gaybian:

Before all this, I was exclusive to "contradictory" labels all the way up until early 2023. I then labeled myself as an mspec lesbian, because as a 2S person, my gender and sexuality are impacted by my cultural experiences way beyond that of someone's binary thinking. Most white transphobes couldn't even comprehend my experiences with me being 2S.

When I was exclu; it was simply just my own ignorance. I was influenced by those around me who did not understand the labels themselves. I listened to their arguments and at the time it made sense. Until inclu people came by and explained the labels to me.

I was the only one in my friend group who sat down to have a discussion with these people. and their arguments made even more sense and disputed all the arguments my friends came up with!! It was an insane and confusing experience. When you want to be loyal to your friends but something they do is just so morally wrong, you wouldn't know what to do either!

This is where I start to understand, and when I started to become critical of both sides. I thought exclu people were "radical" as well, but being "radinclu" simply just wasn't "radical" to me just for including queer people in the QUEER community, ya know?

At the time even tho my stance was changing and developing, I still fought against mspec lesbians and gays; simply because I was scared of being an outcast, that I'd get harassed by exclu people, that people would be racist to me, etc etc. but I soon learned it was the complete opposite.

AS SOMEBODY WHO IS GAYBIAN, when I was exclu I experienced MASS AMOUNTS of racism; to the point I felt like I had to leave twitter (even after I made my account private). I had people questioning my validity as a native american simply because I was an ignorant homophobe.

Say it with me: IGNORANCE DOES NOT EXCUSE RACISM!!

I even had people calling me a chimp, a creature, I've been called a chimera, I got mass reported, I got called multiple racial slurs, of which not all I could even reclaim, I got called a hermaphrodite, way way more happened. my cc got filled with racism and homophobia too!! all because I was ignorant on the subject.

Not once did I call an inclu person (while I was exclu) any of these horrible things or harass them; I just blocked them and moved on with my day.

I will admit I was a bigot for sure but I would NEVER wish any of these things on anyone.

It doesn't stop there though. when I came out as gaybian, I lost almost ALL of my online friends. I also was closeted irl because I had people at my college getting VERY hostile whenever somebody mentioned you can be a bi lesbian.

Those same people were okay with the idea of being a biplatonic lesbian.

basically, my point here is that even as you evolve and grow as a person, become more accepting of not only others but also yourself; the queer community is extremely divided. Even IF everyone agreed that "contradictory" labels weren't an issue, it still wouldn't stop the heartless attacks we all get as queers on the daily. exclus said the SAME THING about neopronouns and xenogenders 7 years ago that they're saying about mspec lesbians and gays today. AND THAT'S A PROBLEM.

The US is climbing towards eradicating all of us as queers; starting with trans people, and they're slowly inching on towards homosexuality. People WITHIN the queer community are more concerned about how we label ourselves, when we all have our own unique oppression as queers, AND SHARED OPPRESSION AS WELL!!

I've legit heard people saying the hate crimes I've experienced as a gaybian don't actually exist and that I'm overreacting because my identity isn't real.

You know who gets the same thing told to THEM?

Most queers will hear that same quote; ESPECIALLY nonbinary people and trans people in general.

everyone who is queer, is queer. whether you "agree" with the labels or not. we are QUEER for a reason.

[blacksapphhicmaddonna]

I WOULDN’T DREAM OF IT.

Chapter 2 - Roll The Dice

Black!Carol Danvers x Maria Rambeau

Ft. Monica Rambeau

CW: slight mentions of- homophobic slurs(not written out), deciding not to report harassment in the military, one mention of a security/police officer, being drunk/partying, minor cuts/scrapes/bruises, parenting, loss of a parent, childhood trauma, regaining lost memories. also, a big part of this chapter is set in a flashback. nothing too crazy for any of this, but I just want everyone to know that these things are mentioned!

A/N: hey y'all! so, I wrote this like a book. it's long per usual, and this one's a bit angsty but nothing too serious. also sooooo sorry this is so late lmao, life comes at you hard and fast sometimes but we getting it together every day! I'll try to be quicker w/ updates🫡. much love, muahhh. thank you for reading! x ps. this isn't proof read bc I stayed up til 6:30 in the morning to finish writing it LMFAOO.💀 I'll come back at some point and proof read it, but sorry for any typos/grammar/syntax oddities as always.

Word Count: 19,078 (jump scare🫣)

Link to AO3!

title header & mood art by me⋆˙⟡♡ pls don't use/post elsewhere without asking! (lmk if y'all like it though! i'm thinking about doing stuff like this for all/most of my fics maybe)

⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆ Taglist⋆｡ﾟ ☾ﾟ ｡⋆｡︎☁ﾟ｡⋆:

@mybonafidefeelings @maysflourish @nanajen8

also go read @mybonafidefeelings's new danbeau/carolxmaria series RIGHT NEOWWWW if you haven't already🥰

and while you're at it, go check out all the fics everyone in the taglist have written! they never disappoint!

here we gooooo, I hope you enjoy part two.💗

Once Monica finished her breakfast, she helped Carol clean up while she told her stories about her friends at school, all the inventions she'd come up with, and any other story her mind mustered up. She wanted to fill in as many blanks as possible for her other mother. Carol listened intently, taking in every moment of her daughter. She wanted to remember everything, even the things that might not seem important to other parents in different circumstances. She wanted to be able to reference these stories, prove that she remembered, that she cared enough to listen. Partly because her own parents never showed an interest, instead always finding the time to show their genuine dislike for her for whatever many reasons they had, or just disregarding her altogether. But also because Monica had always been so welcoming, so ready to receive her back like nothing had happened - or maybe like everything did happen and she still chose to hold on tight to her mother, choosing not to let the time separate them. So Carol held on tight too, wanting to prove she was reliable to the girl. She appreciated how open Monica was to her returning, but she also knew she had been gone for a long time. Longer than she should have been, she often thought. She knew that Monica was young, and might eventually change her mindset on the matter. She had every right to. It would make sense to feel some kind of way, and that scared Carol to her core. So she wanted to at least try and show up in the best way she could. Be present, be a mother - not just someone who literally drops in every now and then. She wanted to give the girl something she could hold onto, something she could trust.

Carol was always so in awe of both of the Rambeaus. Even though Maria always said that she and Monica were so much alike, she loved how much she was just like her mother too. Stubborn, but sure of herself. Interested in everything, always ready to learn and push forward - but soft, in her own way. Gentle, patient and kind. They both would go out of their way, even if it didn’t always seem like they were. She looked like her, too. Her brown eyes, her hair, the way she walked. She was just like Maria in the best ways (not that there was a bad way to be like Maria Rambeau), and also very much just herself. Just Monica, and she was the most amazing child the world had ever managed to produce. Carol was sure of it. 

When they had finished in the kitchen, Carol decided to take a shower too. The hot water should be filled up again, and she was starting to feel the leftover sweat from last night mixing with the approaching heat from the day. Monica sat on the couch and turned on some cartoons, feeling fulfilled from breakfast which made Carol feel proud of herself for a lot of reasons. Cooking was something she always struggled with because she never had anybody to teach her. Maria thinks she might just naturally be a clutz in the kitchen too, but regardless, she worked with her for years as they grew up trying to teach her how to cook, giving her the gentle instruction and patience she never had. Usually to no avail, but it was a fond memory for both of them. Carol smiled, thinking that if her success in making pancakes this morning was any indication of the kind of day she would have with her daughter, she was sure it would be a good one. She wandered back upstairs, running her hands along the walls that still had blue and purple marker stains on them in some spots. As she walked through the hallway towards her shared room, she passed Monica’s room and couldn't help but smile. The girl’s room was what anybody would expect if they’d met her. A little messy, super colorful. She had her personality everywhere. A model of the solar system she had made when she was a little younger for a school project hung from the ceiling over her bed. A stuffed animal Carol had won for her at a carnival when she was a toddler, Maria had one to match that she secretly kept hidden in the drawer next to her bed still. She had drawings on blue construction paper all over her walls, mostly of her inventions (she called them her blueprints). The one picture that was on regular white paper had the word “Family” written on it. A crayon picture of Maria and Carol, with Monica in the middle. Carol’s heart skipped a beat seeing it. She was so lucky, she thought again. She passed the door and made her way to the end of the hall with a happy stride. The day had just begun and she was already doing better than she expected. 

She stepped into the room and paused, her smile growing inward in an almost shy way. She was greeted with the scent and feel of Maria. She inhaled deeply, feeling a level of comfort roll through her body and pang in her chest. Mmm. Carol whispered to herself, almost embarrassed. But she couldn’t help it. She was everywhere. As much as they had kept Carol present in their lives, making sure she was alive and never erased from her fingerprint on the home, it had still been years since Carol had been gone so it made perfect, almost comforting sense to her that they had made it their own. They had to make it comfortable, they had to fill in the empty space. Just like Monica’s room, Maria’s was a perfect snapshot of her personality. It was well kept, everything had a place to be. If it ever did get messy, Carol was sure it didn’t last long. She looked over the room, noting the books next to the bed where Maria slept, all of them half read with bookmarks Monica had made her in them. She looked at the tray of jewelry sitting on the dresser, full of small dainty necklaces and a few pairs of stud earrings with different shapes, and a few pairs of hoops Maria would only wear if she was going out. She looked at the closet, one side open from this morning. All the clothes are organized by color, with a few boxes sitting on the top shelf. Even the bed they had slept in, it was already made perfectly to military standards with the edges tucked in perfectly - except for the top where Maria had extra pillows, all with light purple pillow cases contrasting the perfect white ones underneath.

She looked at the picture frames sitting on Maria’s perfectly organized desk as she walked over to it. On the left side was a picture of her and Monica at a park that had to be fairly recent, a picture of Maria standing outside the SWORD office smiling huge next to an older man in uniform, and a picture of Maria with her brother which must’ve been years old because Maria looked like she was in middle school maybe, making Carol reminisce about the girl she used to know. On the right side of the desk sat two pictures that didn’t face in all the way like the other two, as if they were put there intentionally but also intentionally not looked at as much. One, in a light purple frame, was Maria’s mother. Carol had never met the woman but had seen her face many times growing up in Maria’s father’s house. It was the same then, almost like the woman must have put the pictures of herself up and they didn’t have the heart to take them down, but they tried their best not to look. Next to that sat a framed picture of Carol and Maria smiling at the local bar they used to go to, their uniforms half undone and Carol’s hair out of regs with her aviators pushed back and a red bandana around her head. She remembers the bar more now, Pancho’s. She had been there with Fury and it jogged a lot of things for her, but she so badly wants to remember that day specifically. She runs her fingers close to it, but doesn’t dare to touch. She tries to remember the song they would sing together, all the lyrics. She can’t but she remembers how it felt to jump around for hours and then walk home, too drunk most times, bumping into each other and letting touches and looks linger a little too long, and then having to get up early the next day. She remembers that they would take turns walking each other to their barracks, sometimes daring to sleep in each other's rooms when they thought they might not get caught, always leaving one of them to sneak out in the morning. Carol laughs, thinking about how Maria was right last night, and how she was always better at leaving quietly than Carol.

When her eyes refocus on the photo, she can’t help but wonder how many times Maria had flipped the frame over, hiding the memory from herself. She wonders, just for a moment, if she would’ve been able to live through the grief she put her through. She would never know just how bad it was for Maria, she would never be able to see from her eyes what the woman went through or how she pulled herself out of bed every day and raised a child by herself, kept working, started SWORD. She wondered if Maria ever went back to that bar, or if she ever listened to the song again. She would never know how the woman truly felt in those years or what she did to keep herself busy, and she didn’t think she’d ever feel right asking. She wanted to think about the past few months, after everything. She wanted to think about how it must be even worse, in a way, knowing that Carol was out there saving other people while Monica grew up and Maria trudged on with no choice. She wanted to think about it but couldn’t, knowing what would happen if she let her mind attach to the thoughts and feelings. She gazed at the photo again and turned away, deciding that maybe she didn’t need to remember everything right now. 

She walked over to the box they had pulled out last night for her and started going through some clothes, looking for something to change into. She realized that while she was in space, her suit did all the work for her - she never had to worry about pulling an outfit together. It did the heating, drying, cooling, protecting her from any number of threats - all while containing her powers in a comfortable way for her. So as she sorted through her belongings, she was now also coming to the realization that it also had built in underwear. She only had two pairs of regular underwear to her name and she was wearing one of them. She frantically sifted through the big box to no avail. She questioned why she would only have two pairs of underwear, rather than all of her undergarments or none of them at all. She guessed that the Air Force had something to do with it, remembering that they had packed everything up for Maria to come pick up instead of letting her do it. She cursed them under her breath, mad that once again Maria had something taken from her, deciding that she had no option but to wear the pair of boxer briefs she had found and figure it out later. She grabbed the boxers, an old band tee shirt and a pair of jeans and headed for the bathroom. 

When she walks in the bathroom, she can hear Monica’s cartoons from the living room. 

“I’m gonna bathe myself, Lt. Trouble! Come get me if you need anything, okay?”

 She yells down. She waited to hear Monica’s response and when she didn’t she paused completely, silencing herself and the air around her, cartoons still playing. She could feel her heartbeat pick up its pace.

“Mon? Did you hear me?” 

She shouts again, a bit louder, trying not to let on to her anxiety.

“Okay Mom!”

 Monica yells back, mind focused on her shows. Carol exhaled deeply, relief flowing through her body. She chuckled at mom, gratitude buzzing through her whole body. She was still a mom to Monica and that meant more to her than she could ever explain. She added “go to therapy” on her mental to do list and started stripping.

Once all the layers were off, she chucked her socks in the pile she had made and stepped into the deep tub, pulling a purple shower cap over her hair and bending down to turn on the shower. She pulled the stop up before balancing out the water and heard the water make its way up the long pipe to the shower head slowly as she pulled the curtain closed around her. She immediately screeched, feeling freezing water run over her body. She had forgotten that Maria took cold showers in the morning to wake her up. She scrambled, trying to avoid as much of the frigid water as possible while she flipped up the hot water handle with her toes, jumping up and down, somehow not slipping. As the water began to warm and steam up, she found herself laughing. Out loud. She couldn’t stop. Captain Marvel was giggling like a child (Once again proving Maria right). She slid down and sat on her butt, pulling her knees into her chest and let the water run over her back. She eased into the warm feeling, still feeling laughter bubble up inside of her. She closed her eyes and remembered the last time she felt the shock of cold water all over her.

It was late, or maybe early. Carol felt herself getting tired, but she wanted to keep dancing. She wanted to keep singing. She wanted to keep seeing Maria, feeling her brush up against her while they danced and twirled in sloppy, drunken harmony, singing poorly to whatever song was playing. She didn’t want to go to work tomorrow just to test planes she would never get to fly outside of base. She didn’t want to sleep in her own bed, unless Maria was in it. She just wanted to keep living in this moment for as long as she could. She looked over at her equally drunk copart, dancing freely with her eyes closed. Maria rarely let loose like this, but when she did it was beautiful. She commanded the room, everyone tuning into her wavelength, feeling her all around them. She made everything beautiful, and when she was carefree, it was like no one on earth had a care in the world either. 

Maria opened her eyes to see Carol looking at her and she smiled that toothy grin she had, making the heat from Carol’s chest rise to her face. She smiled back, pushing herself closer to the woman through the people dancing around them. The dark liquor they had both been drinking was coursing through them and burning off with every move, sending sparks through both of their bodies while they watched each other bop to the music. Carol made her way over and laughed, making some comment about how only they could make old white men’s music sound this good. Maria giggled in agreeance, grabbing Carol’s hand and twirling her around. She was tired too, but she was happy to have a break. They had both been working their asses off and both felt the same frustration with the position they were seemingly stuck in. They were making their way up in rank, one then the other, every time. But two facts always remained. They were both Black Women. So the Air Force didn’t give them much reign, despite the fact that they were statistically and literally the two best pilots the Air Force had ever seen and a lot of people knew it. Despite all their talent and gusto, they did their diligence day in and day out. So, when they got the chance to be free from the monotony, they took it, hand in hand, happily. 

As Carol spun back into the woman’s arms with a heaving laugh, they both smiled at each other widely. Maria couldn’t look away, she felt stuck as her eyes moved down from her friend’s eyes to her lips. Carol surprised her by grabbing her other arm and spinning her just how she had done, and pulling her in with a dramatic dip. Everyone around them cheered, drunk too. They laughed with their bellies, feeling the song in their chests. Carol pulled Maria up slow, just as the exciting song ended. The next song started and it was slower, and most people around them coupled up, only some seeming annoyed as they made their way off the dance floor and back to the bar and stools. The two women looked around them, then at each other. They both shrugged with a small laugh, and Carol pulled Maria in to dance. She made some joke about being proper while she found her hands at Maria’s lower back, making the woman laugh as she made herself comfortable around Carol’s neck and shoulders. They laid their chins on eachother and swayed, letting the joke of it all dissipate into the air. It was moments like this that they relished in, secretly. Every now and then, they’d allow themselves a second to breathe each other in. Usually when they were drunk and their inhibitions were low. For both of them, it felt like everything melted away. Just like when they were younger and neither had been asked to the school dance, so they took each other. They shared one slow dance that night, making the excuse that it was tradition and neither should miss out on their first slow dance. They had wanted to dance together at prom, but they had both regrettably had dates for once. Maria had been asked by a boy from her science class, he played on the basketball team and told her she was pretty AND smart (wow, how romantic, Carol thought when she heard the story).

Carol hadn’t been asked but when she found out Maria said yes after being pressured by her father and not hearing Carol make a strong argument against it, Carol forced some kid from one of her classes to come with her. All four had danced that night, split into the ‘correct’ gendered pairs. Carol couldn’t keep her eyes off her bestfriend, and the feeling was mutual. During the final slow dance, they were all on the floor swaying in and out of rhythm with the song playing. Carol and Maria locked eyes and didn’t unlock them until the song was over. They had danced again during their first military ball, quietly in the back behind a pillar where no one could see them. It was unspoken but well understood. They didn’t talk about it after, they just went about their business. They always did. And they would again after tonight, carrying on like time didn’t stop when they touched like this. As the music played, Carol’s hand rubbed Maria’s back absent mindedly, while Maria rubbed small circles against Carol’s neck as they swayed, both in and out of daydreaming, both drunk and leaning a little too heavily on eachother. They both fought the urge to look up at each other, so they let their heavy heads rest on each other as they danced, feet in perfect timing with eachothers. This is what friends do, right? They were so comfortable with each other, it wasn’t weird to slow dance. Right? They almost stopped moving entirely, leaving just a small rocking between them as the music played through them, syncing their breaths. You feel so good, they both thought at the same time, almost forgetting that their freedom in this moment was due to the cognac surging through them.

When time started again and the song stopped, an upbeat one replacing it, they both lingered for a moment longer trying to hold onto the comfort they felt, and trying to collect their drunk selves. Over the sound of the music, the bartender announced last call and they looked at each other with a mischievous smirk. 

“Last one to the bar pays for the shots!” They said in unison, falling gracefully back into their routine. They ran over, both making it there at the same time, so as always they paid for each other’s shots and continued jamming to the music and letting the ambiance of the bar carry them through the rest of the night. Everyone knew everyone, so they felt safe, which was nice. As they finished their last two shots each, they both felt the drunkenness take its strong hold on them and they decided this would be their last song. They grabbed the karaoke mics that no one else wanted and belted at the top of their lungs, horribly but everyone loved it. They jumped up and down, bursting at the seams with laughter and lyrics, dancing with whoever danced with them. Once the song ended, they grabbed each other’s hands and ran for the coat rack, bounding forward despite their lack of balance. 

Pulling on their jackets, they stepped outside into the cooler air and took it in. Carol checked her watch and was astonished to see the time, despite the fact they everyone knew last call at Pancho’s meant it was 2am and the bar would be closing at 2:30. She looked over at Maria who was staring up at the sky.

“What’re you look-”

“Shh! Make a wish! Right now before you miss it!” 

Maria rushed Carol, keeping her eyes closed and her hands clasped together like she was praying, maybe even begging. Carol smiled, knowing the shooting star that must’ve passed was already gone, but she chose to believe the energy would linger for Maria and her. She closed her eyes and spent no time trying to figure out what to wish for. She knew exactly what she wanted, what she needed. They both did. Carol kept her eyes closed after she was done, letting her body relax and fully feeling the disorientation of her drunkenness. She felt woozy, almost nauseous. Maria stared at her while her eyes were shut, allowing her body to relax at the sight. She felt her body move for her, without permission. She grabbed Carol’s hand, shocking the woman’s eyes open and started running without any explanation. 

“What are you doing Rambeau? Where are we going?” 

Carol asked, confused, dizzy and feeling a familiar spike of excitement rise in her. Maria was even more daring and much less prudent when she was intoxicated. She was taking her on an adventure and she was ready to go. She would follow the woman anywhere, drunk or not.

“You’ll see. Don’t you trust me, Danvers?” 

Maria called behind her, laughing and out of breath the whole time but never stopping. Carol didn’t need to answer, they both knew the answer. They kept up laughing, thankful for all the PT they’d been forced to do by the United States military. They ran down quiet streets for a few minutes, until they made it to a dirt path with a bunch of trees, leading them off the main road. Maria looked back at Carol with an excited and sly smile. Carol pulled her hand back and made her face her. 

“You’re not trying to serial killer me, right? Where are you taking me?” 

She laughed, but meant the question.

“C’monnn.” Maria tugged, wanting to live in the moment while she could. 

“Don’t you trust me?” 

She asked again, looking in Carol’s eyes with a glint, but soft. Penetrating, Carol thought to herself. She knew she couldn’t say no, she never could. So, she smiled and signaled for Maria to keep taking her wherever she was.

“Lead the way.”

This made Maria smile excitedly, adding an extra skip in her step. They weren’t running this time but they were walking fast, Maria jumping around Carol who felt like she was in a movie or a trance, eyes never leaving Maria’s dancing body as they made their way down the dark path, leaving her feet to trust whatever path Maria made for her. Maria saw a clearing in the trees ahead of them and she started running again, creating too much space for Carol’s comfort. She snapped out of her trance and ran after the faster woman, feeling anxiety and frustration rise in her for a moment. 

“What the hell, Rambeau? It’s dark out here! You can’t just run o-” Carol started while she wiped the sweat and dust off her face. When she opened her eyes, she saw Maria standing at the edge of a lake surrounded by thick brown sand and trees. Maria waved her over and the frustration fled Carol’s body faster than it arrived. She jogged up to Maria who was already undressing, making Carol choke when she saw glimpses of Maria’s dark skin that she didn’t usually see. I mean, sure, they’d seen eachother in bathing suits and naked before, when they were kids, but it had been a while. A long while. Carol had to force her mouth shut before Maria could see it hanging open.

“Cmon, hurry up! We gotta jump in before my better judgement takes over!” 

Maria rushed as she pulled off her socks and yanked her pants the rest of the way down, pulling them over her ankles. Carol was still frozen watching her.

“Don’t tell me you’re scared Danvers? Cmon! It’ll help with the drunkenness and it’ll be a story to tell our kids!” 

Maria exclaimed, pulling her shirt over her head. All the was left was her bra and perfect light purple underwear. Carol snapped out of it and laughed.

“HA! What the hell are you doing? Don’t tell me you’re about to-”

“Skinny dip? Yes the hell I am. And so are you. Hurry up!”

Maria finished her sentence as she grabbed her hand, pulling her over and pulling the bandana off her head and tossing it with her own clothes she had made a pile of. She started pulling at Carols shirt sleeves until Carol brushed her away, laughing but really just unable to let Maria help undress her. She was suddenly feeling very shy but as always, Maria was going to get what she wanted from Carol because that’s what Carol wanted. Maria looked at her with that So, are you gonna do it or not? look that Carol was usually giving her and waited for Carol’s face to break into a smile she couldn’t help.

“I can’t believe I’m about to do this with you. Don’t cry to me when you regret it tomorrow and have to blow your hair out in the morning!” 

Carol said as she pulled her shirt over her head and exposed her own body, one that Maria wasn’t sure how to fully take in either as she fought back a smile at Carol’s comment. She thought about the last time she’d seen Carol completely naked, or at least as naked as she almost was standing there. They used to get dressed in front of each other all the time and they’d been in matching bathing suits a bunch of times growing up but it had been a while, since they weren’t rooming together in the barracks. She forced her stare away while Carol undid her pants and slid out of them, leaving only her boy shorts, a bra and socks. She kicked her socks off to match as Maria finished pulling the rest of her underwear off, and by the time they both turned around, they were stark naked in the middle of nowhere, right in front of each other.

The silence sat for a moment before they both laughed, the tension easing away like it always did. Maria grabbed Carol’s hand and ran for the water, looking back only to ask You ready? as her feet made their way into the moist sand, inching towards the cold water. Carol shot back As I’ll ever be before making her way in too. They both plunged forward, swimming out a bit but not too far. They both shot under the water and looked at eachother, grabbing hands again before popping back up. The water rolled off of them as they broke through the surface, blinking it from their eyes and feeling their hair. They laughed loudly, finding their bearings in the freezing water.

“Holy shit!” Carol swore, bobbing a bit as she figured out how to float again. Still laughing.

“More like Holy FUUUCK!” Maria shouted out with a laugh in her voice, lifting it into the trees around them. She couldn’t stop laughing, and she couldn’t stop shivering. Carol looked at her as she held her free hand that she was using to balance herself with as she floated out to Maria who happily took it in hopes it would help stabilize her as well.

“You’re a god damn maverick, Rambeau!” Carol laughed as she spun Maria around, swimming in circles trying to keep her blood pumping to warm them both up. Maria swam gracefully, still holding onto Carol’s hand. She was laughing but she was also quieter now. Carol questioned if it was the cold or if it was whatever made her jump into a freezing lake anyway. She pulled her back in and held her hand tight as she pulled her onto her back, pressing her front to her back and taking deep breaths trying to stay warm while still enjoying the fluidity of movement the water provided. They both felt like they were flying, finally.

“What’s going on in your head?” Carol asked as she swam in different directions for a little bit, back and forth as Maria clung to her back, clearly the drunker of the two now. The shock of the water had helped to sober them both up but Carol always had a higher tolerance to alcohol as it was. She was still drunk but not as drunk as her bestfriend, whos head was resting on top of Carol’s wet curls. She knew the humidity and however she planned to get sleep that night wouldn’t help with her process in the morning.

“I just want to fly. I just wanna feel free, you know?” Maria started, not exactly slurring her words but they weren’t as uniform with her natural cadence as they usually were. Carol nodded slightly with a Mhm to assure Maria that she was listening.

“I just… I just wish we could do whatever we wanted to do. I’m so tired of living by the same rules every day. I wish I could just fly into space and stay there, sometimes, you know?” Carol smiled at the thought of Maria being able to fly how she was meant to. High up, above the clouds. Away from everyone and everything that constantly tried to tie her feet to the ground. She did know, she felt the same way about herself.

“You’d leave me here on earth to deal with these bastards?” Carol asked, joking but also not. Maria half laughed, half hiccuped at the thought.

“Wherever I am, you are too. That’s how it’s always going to be, Danver’s. I fly, you fly. You fly, I fly. That’s never gonna change.” Maria said, meaning it. She was always more emotionally open when she was drunk and Carol almost felt bad listening to her, knowing she wouldn’t normally open up like this - especially naked, freezing, clinging to her best friends back with all her might and drunk in a lake they had no business being in. But she couldn’t help but revel in what the woman was saying. She felt the same.

“I know. I know. Come on, lets go home.” Maria wanted to put up a fight but she was shivering and suddenly very sleepy, so she let Carol swim them to shore. When they got out the water, the warm air offered some support in their drunken attempts to pull on their clothing over wet and suddenly sand covered bodies. They weren’t sure if they were putting on the right things but they knew it was covering their important parts and that’s what matters. 

“Can we stay at look at the stars for a little bit?” Maria asked, even though she was the one in charge, whether she knew it or not. Carol knew it. She nodded, knowing it wasn’t a good idea but one she couldn’t deny the soft woman in front of her. She spread their jackets out on the beach for them to lay down and they both did just that, scotting their bodies close to each other instinctively. They peered up at the stars above them, seeing them clearly in the huge circle the trees made. It was perfect, they both thought. Some moments went by before Carol asked a question.

“What did you wish for earlier?”

“Shh. I can’t tell or it won't come true. It was something I’ve always wanted, so it has to come true.” She explained, sleep and bourbon clouding her voice.

“Mine too.” Carol whispered, her own eyes growing heavy. They held hands and both thought that the other woman must’ve wished for them to finally be able to do their jobs the right way, to be able to fly for real. Little did they both know they were wishing for the same thing. Each other.

They laid there, staring at the stars until they weren’t. Sleep came easy for them that night, as odd as it was. It got odder when they woke up, facing each other with only a nose length between their faces, feeling the warm sting of the sun in their eyes. They looked at eachother and started laughing until they heard the familiar sound of security keys dangling and a radio in the nearing distance. They knew it had to be the wannabe cops that patrolled the area and they knew it was their time to get the hell out of there. They ran back down the same path and back onto the main road until they made it to Pancho’s. They slowed to a casual pace after that, trying not to draw attention to themselves even though they had sand all over and their hair was nowhere near what it looked like the previous night. They walked, quietly, but happily together back to the barracks and passed out in Maria’s room. She wanted the comfort of her own space to ease through her impending hangover, but she needed the comfort of Carol’s arms too. Carol put up no fight, trying not to be too obvious that she wanted to be there too. Though she’d never tell, Maria positioned herself perfectly to be held and went right to sleep.

Carol stayed up until she fell asleep like she always did, making sure she was on her side in case she threw up or needed water. She watched as Maria slept, looking like she was floating again. She was so beautiful and Carol was so tired. She laid down and held the woman, her arms perfectly fitting into the space that was left, like it was made for her. They slept most of the day away and when Carol woke up, she set medicine next to Maria’s bed and snuck out, quieter than normal. She thought about what Maria had said when she was in the water as she walked back to her room to take care of her own hangover and messed up fro’. She promised herself that day that no matter where she flew, she would make sure Maria would be there too. Behind that promise, she knew that she would follow Maria to the end of the earth, even the end of the universe without a second thought. She tried to shake some self respect back into her own dreams, smiling despite herself and went to sleep. She dreamed of Maria, because Maria was her dream.

Carol’s day dreaming was interrupted by a cold surge through the shower head again, and the sound of the downstairs sink running before being cut off. Her super hearing alerted her to the sound of Monica filling a cup and going to sit back down. She buzzed under the cold water before it eased back into the warmth she had set for herself. She felt more fond of the cold now. She stood back up and washed her body, letting the water run over her face. The soap smelled like both Monica and Maria and she felt comfort knowing she would smell like them now, too. She finished up and got out, drying herself with her powers instead of making more laundry for herself with the towels she had been looking at the night before. She grabbed her clothes and located her underwear and bra from the pile. 

When she grabbed the pair of boxers, she looked at the inside hem and saw “DANVERS” written in smudged black sharpie on the white tag. She laughed with an edge of old frustration, remembering how she had to do that because people kept stealing her underwear in the laundry room as a prank because her and Maria had ranked up before a few of the other men in their unit. Maria’s clothes never got stolen, but they didn’t refrain from trying to get to her in other ways. None of which she ever humored, but Carol knew it got to her a few times. Some of the guys had called them ‘lesbos’ a few times, and eventually it evolved into the d slur. Both pilots always had different comebacks that consistently left the immature weasels with little to say back. Carol knew both of those words well having heard them most of her life, and she had taught herself not to internalize it.

Maria, on the other hand, let the first one roll off her for the most part - but the second one sometimes picked at scabs she had long covered up. Scabs she wasn’t ready to look at yet. They both decided not to report the harassment because it would probably end up worse if they did, and eventually it died down. They both continued to rise in ranks slowly but surely, and finally Mar-Vell came and they felt some reprieve from the monotony they were used to. Carol shivered at the thought of what came after that, though. 

She slid the rest of her clothes on and walked back into the bedroom. She put her dirty clothes in the laundry basket next to the closet for her to do later, and walked back over to the box of her things. She’d seen a bunch of stuff Monica had shown her the first time she came home, but she wanted to know what was in the other boxes Maria had kept. She went through the bottom of the box that had her clothes in it not finding anything she hadn’t already seen, and then pulled open the other one they had left out. She presumed this is one Maria hadn’t shown Monica as it had light dust on it when she opened it.

She sifted through, halfway hoping to find another pair of underwear, but instead she found a bunch of papers and trinkets. Some necklaces and a silver chain bracelet, wristbands from carnivals and bars they had been to together, a pair of dice from a board game they had stolen from a store one time when they were younger and had kept as they grew up. She ran her hands over everything, trying to take in as much of her former self as she could like she always did when she had the chance. She fumbled at the bottom of the box and pulled out a bunch of papers, some folded, some grocery lists with toiletries and snacks crossed off here and there, some half done crossword puzzles that Carol was never good at, and a few opened envelopes. She sat the rest down and looked over each envelope with care. 

Some had cards in them, birthday and christmas cards, one from valentines day. All of them had silly characters or jokes on the front. They had made a good habit of buying each other cheesy cards for every holiday they could think of, Carol strained to remember as she read through them. She rubbed her finger over Maria’s perfect signature, wondering if she kept the ones Carol had gotten her, too. She filed through the papers curiously, flipping through piece after piece of paper that held a small snapshot of moments in her life. Mundane, ordinary moments. She cherished them, and she was grateful to both Maria for keeping them and herself for never being organized and keeping all this stuff that most people would’ve eventually thrown away or allowed themselves to misplace over time. Her eyes fixed on a thicker envelope. She grabbed it, reading the red script labeled across the front.

To: Danvers

From: Rambeau ♡ 

Carol smiled at the little heart Maria had drawn next to her last name. She opened the letter, finding another heart on the back of the envelope where it was once sealed. Carol reads over the letter, feeling emotion and memory rise up in her chest, spreading through her whole body. The letter is dated, of course because Maria is ever punctual. It was from when they had been stationed at two separate bases for the first few months. It was agony for both of them, being in two separate states. Carol had sent Maria a letter when she first arrived, thinking she would be the first one to write. She was shocked, however, to find a letter waiting for her when she arrived at the post office on base. She had opened it the second she got back to her barracks room. It was an envelope inside an envelope, the outer one having had their full names and ranks and official military postage, the second one having the cute little hearts Maria drew perfectly when she wrote. Again, she was softer than most people expected her to be.

The letter expressed pretty much exactly what Carol had in hers, which came to no surprise to either of them when they both read what the other had sent. They were always on the same wavelength. They both had so much more they needed to say, but they were so grateful to hold something physical that the other had taken time to write for the other.  Maria asked how Carol was doing, explained what had been going on with her, and complained about the men on base per usual. Just as if they were together in person. 

As Carol read through it, she laughed, probably how she had the first time, at a lot of the letter. Towards the end though, she felt a tight ball of heat sitting in her chest restricting her breathing. She almost couldn’t read through what was left of the letter. Was she embarrassed? 

“Anyways, I hope you’re still kicking ass. I KNOW you are, that always came easy to you. 

I hope we can call soon, hopefully without being interrupted by the other idiots needing to use the phone every single time you do. I can’t believe there's only four on your base and only two that actually work (what happened to ‘The Air Force’s finest?’). You’d think with all the money the military has.. You know. I know it’s hard for both of us to find the time right now but I just really miss you, Carol. I miss shitty karaoke a lot, I can’t do it with these clowns here without you. Friday nights just aren’t the same haha. I miss renting the same movies every weekend and staying up all night eating too much. I even watched Fame the other day without you. I still hate it but it was nice, I just wish you were here to act out all the scenes. And I’ll deny it if you ever tell anybody, but I even miss your shitty cooking (burn this after reading), and not just because it makes it easier for me to be the better cook, but just because it’s you. I never used to hate writing letters but I do now, because it reminds me how far they have to travel to get to you. I hate that we’re not together, we’ve always been together. And as much as I act like I know what I’m doing, sometimes I feel lost without you here. And I know we’ve been pretending everything is the same but it isn’t, at least not for me. I wish we had more time to talk before you left. I wish we had more time in general. Damn the Air Force. Regardless, I just want you to know that I love you. And I’m so proud of you. I always am.

It’ll all be better soon. I believe that, just like you always do. We’ll be up in the air in no time. I’ll meet you up there. I’ll be the one whipping by you. Catch up if you can.

Take good care of yourself, because I’m not there to do it for you. 

You’re the best damn pilot in the Air Force (second only to me, of course), and don’t let anyone convince you otherwise! Call me when you get the chance. And hurry up and write back!

Always, 

Rambeau.

Ps. Things wont always be this way. Don’t forget that. And don’t forget that round of shots you owe me, either, goofball.”

Carol felt the heat of a blush running to her cheeks. She was thankful for her dark complexion hiding it, although no one was there to see her anyways. Why did she feel so giddy, and also… embarrassed? She felt like she was reading someone’s diary, even though the letter was clearly addressed to her and she had already read it. Years ago. She scanned over the text again, regarding Maria’s perfect handwriting. She felt like she was reading a love letter. Maybe it was, but she was too anxious to entertain the thought too much. She wasn’t exactly sure what that would mean, and she wasn’t sure if this year's old letter still even meant anything other than friendship.

Maria had been tight lipped about a lot of stuff, even though she pretended like she wasn’t. Her and Monica always answered Carol’s questions openly, happily for the most part unless it was about the ‘missing period’. They all tried to avoid that subject now, as time had gone by, but they all also knew that it would come up naturally sometimes and it couldn’t be left unanswered all the time. Aside from that, to the untrained eye, it seemed like Maria was willing to give up any bit of information that would help get them all back to how they used to be or at least help figure out what life looked like moving forward. But Carol knew better, she had a very well trained eye for Maria Rambeau, it was second nature for her - with or without the gaps in her memory. There had been a few moments,  just brief enough to almost miss, since Carol came back the first time with Fury and even more recently on some of her visits, when the unshakeable Maria had gotten flustered or nervous, where the heat currently in Carol’s cheeks had been in hers. When her heart threatened to beat so hard it would leap from her chest. Granted, she hid it well but again, Carol could always see through her. She seldom was at a loss for words or made quick, messy cover ups in conversation. Usually the people around them didn’t even notice. Monica didn’t even catch it, or at least didn’t acknowledge it. It happened once or twice when Carol and Maria were alone, too. Carol knew things like that only happened when Maria felt unsure, or when she really didn’t want to talk about something. Anyone who had ever met Maria knew she was as straightforward as they come, so that’s what made Carol pay extra attention when she was avoiding something. 

The thoughts of romance danced around Carol’s brain tauntingly, aching for her to pull them forward and examine them. But knowing how Maria was, and knowing that she only got that way when she was purposefully avoiding something, Carol settled on a quiet feeling of rejection instead - against her better judgment. She let it swell through her, enflaming the previous feelings of embarrassment right along with it. She put the letter away, resigning that she should just be thankful to have a friend who cares for her so much and that she wouldn’t allow herself to think anything else. She did this often, rejected herself before other people could to avoid the stinging feeling of embarrassment or disappointment her parents and the people she grew up with often supplied her with.

Maria never made her feel that way, and maybe that's why she would accept this quiet, self imposed feeling now instead of facing it in person with the other woman. She couldn’t risk ruining something she had just gotten back, anyways. Right? Right, she forced herself to agree in her head. She decided to go find Monica and clear her head of the letter. As she walked out, she glanced at the picture of Maria and the child again and sighed softly, letting a small smile of gratitude cover her face. This could be enough for her, if she would let it be.

Monia was sitting on the couch still, no longer paying any mind to the tv playing in the background. She was eagerly reading through the huge phone book they usually had sitting on the coffee table, bracing it against her bended knees as she flipped through the yellow pages quickly. 

“What’re you looking for, Lt. Trouble?”

“Someone who sells the parts I need for my next invention! What letter do you think that would be under?”

Carol laughs, deciding to humor the girl.

“Hmm, you know I’m not sure. Have you tried under sales? Or maybe…a junkyard?”

“I could try the junkyard! I didn’t try that yet!”

“Maybe I can get you a hook up from Fury, orrrr maybe your mom knows someone at her job? What’re you even looking for?”

“I already asked her last week! She said she would check but I think she was just saying that. Here’s my list.”

Monica handed Carol a surprisingly long list, with a few things checked off that Carol assumed were already laying around the house. She wondered if Maria knew that these things had been checked off, which gave her a good chuckle. She set the list down and turned to Monica.

“Okay, I think I can get you some of these but the bigger things are definitely gonna need some work. Maybe we can roll down to the junkyard this week?”

“YES! And no take-backsies!”

“Wouldn’t dare. How about you come help me handle the laundry and dishes and then we can head outside?”

“Deal. I think you might need help figuring out the detergent set up Ma’ has anyways. She’s very particular.” 

Monica explains, leaping up into action and grabbing Carol’s hand to pull her along.

Monica was right, Maria had a very elaborate and strict laundry system. The two of them likely didn’t get it exactly right but they did their best to pay attention to details neither of them really cared about but knew Maria did, wanting not only to please and respect Maria, but also wanting to avoid what she would have to say about it if they got it wrong or chose to ignore it. Carol tried to use her powered speed and agility to help make the process move quicker, but it only hindered the experience. She noted that the chance to move slowly and be mindful was probably why Maria seemed to enjoy the routine of laundry and such. It probably helped calm her down and help her be present after long days working to protect the whole world, while still having to be a full time mom to a rather rambunctious child, on top of whatever anxiety Carol added throughout her week. She smiled and decided to try and match the attentiveness. Her and Monica spent a while switching between loading and unloading, doing the dishes left over from dinner last night and breakfast - eventually returning to sort and fold the clean clothes and linens. It smelled lovely in the laundry room, reminding both of them of Maria. It comforted them in a way only she could. 

Once they finished with the inside chores, they decided to mix and match to-do lists. Monica needed to catch some frogs just as much as Carol needed to mow the lawn, she insisted. Carol agreed to help her catch some frogs if she would agree to help her patch up some of the paint that Maria had been avoiding doing. They shook on it, running off into the field that would be mowed down later in the day. They went at it excitedly, jumping around in the tall grass and dirt, painting not so gracefully and splattering white paint on each other by “accident”.

By the time they finished the side of the house and Monica had caught, released and named at least eight frogs that she swore were all different despite being nearly identical, they had both created more laundry to do and were both definitely in need of a bath but neither minded in the slightest. Even once they were done, they chased each other around tirelessly until Monica was hiccupping and giggling at the same time. Carol marveled at Monica’s intrinsic wonder and love at the world around her. In her Hero heart, watching it solidified her sense of duty to protect the galaxy, making sure nothing and no one could ever bring harm to the world her daughter so loved. But in her Carol heart, it made her giddy too. Almost envious in a way. She missed the days when she could roll around in a yard and only worry about trying not to crush too many bugs. Now she had to worry about whether someone was going to crush a planet or not. She often longed for a childhood she never really had, and sometimes even the one she did have when she could piece it together. She knew it wasn’t a good one, but she had Maria. She just had Maria. And now Monica does too, and god was she glad about it. 

Carol picked the younger girl up and flew her to the front porch in a flash, something Maria would swear she didn’t approve of as she fought back her own giggles. Monica shouted with pure glee as her feet landed back on the wood she knew well. They zipped in the house and ran to the kitchen, ready for lunch. Monica decided she would handle making it, promising Carol the best turkey and cheese sandwich she would ever have. Or at least better than she could make herself.

“Mayo or mustard Mama?”

Carol beamed a grin across her face, feeling a familiar hot blush swipe across her at the word mama but she tried to play it cool.

“I want whatever you’re having, Trouble!”

Carol responded happily, only after registering the fact that she hated mustard and hoped that Monica did too. She watched as the girl ran through the kitchen, leaving a small mess across different surfaces. She whipped up the two sandwiches like she did it very often, and sat two plates down in front of Carol with a big toothy smile. 

“Wa-La! The Trouble special!” 

She exclaimed, nudging the sandwich to Carol and taking a big bite out of her own, leaving a smudge of mayo on the inner side of her finger. Thank god, Carol laughed to herself. Before she could remind the girl to make sure she cleaned up, Monica was already stacking up her ingredients and propping open the fridge with her foot. This made the woman smile, knowing she had probably heard one too many times from Maria about cleaning up after herself. 

“Take a bite!” Monica mumbled, chewing down another bite herself and gesturing to Carol with her hands. Carol bit into the sandwich and began mimicking the fancy chefs they would watch on tv together.

“Mmm! Magnificent work yet again, Chef Rambeau!”

Monica smiled before straightening her face and standing up straight before taking a bow, nearly dropping her own sandwich. They both laughed and enjoyed their sandwiches, Carol deciding to sneak Monica a coke in thanks for making the best sandwich she’d ever had, saying "this ones on me” and promising to tell Maria she drank them if she asks. Once they both finished and decided that Monica won the burping contest, they decided to tackle the lawn and climb the tree. Monica ran back outside like she had all the energy in the world, and Carol followed behind at a much slower pace as if she didn’t literally have all the energy in the world.

They took turns pushing the mower up and down the huge yard in different directions, trying to make different drawings with the pattern it created. Carol figured Maria wouldn’t mind much. Once they finished, both sweating under the direct heat of the sun, they were both happy to have some reprieve when they made their way over to the trees. Carol laid down in the grass underneath the biggest tree, grateful for the shade it provided.

She breathed deep, taking in the soft wind that was blowing. It wasn’t as humid as she had expected, another thing she was grateful for. Monica plopped herself next to her, pulling up her tee shirt sleeves to match Carol’s rolled up sleeves. She poked at the tan line appearing where the shirt sat for most of the day. Carol pointed to her own, kind of happy to have a tan to her brown skin again. She spent a lot of time in her suit, so it always felt nice to have regular clothes on. She thought about how the sun on earth felt so different than on other planets, who all had different sources of heat and light. She looked over at Monica, who was now laying down too, watching a lady bug crawl through her hands. She was brighter than the sun, Carol thought, before she pushed her sunglasses up her forehead to tangle in her fro’ again.

“So, you’re gonna conquer the big one today, huh?”

“Absolutely. Mom always gets nervous so she told me to wait until you came home again. The whole super power thing and stuff.”

Monica rolled her eyes and continued looking at the lady bug with curiosity.

“Well, she kinda has a point kiddo. Let’s do it.”

Monica jumped to her feet, pausing only to gently place the lady back in the grass and hopped over to the foot of the tree. She walked around it, looking for the perfect place to start. She found her footing and called Carol over to spot her from behind.

“Alright, pay attention and be careful. Let me know if you get stuck, okay?”

“Gotcha gotcha. If I get stuck, will you fly up to me?” 

Monica asked while climbing up the first couple inches, hoisting herself up to find a sturdy hand hold between two branches and bracing her legs against either side. 

“We’ll see.”

Carol watched intently, squinting her eyes against the sun and smiling with her teeth, hands ready to catch Monica. The girl climbed up a few feet and held on tight.

“So, this is how far I got last time with Mom. I just have to streeetchhhhh over to the next branch.”

“You got this, just pretend your arms are made of elastic and reach.”

Monica tried a few times to stretch over with no success, before deciding to just leap as far as she could to connect her hands. Carol’s heart nearly jumped out her chest, not even realizing her own feet had ended up off the ground, floating next to the girl who had successfully made the jump. She smiled at her mom, ignoring the small scratches on her forearms that were starting to bleed just a little bit.

“Jesu- Good job, Trouble! Just maybe tell me next time?”

“We’ll see.”

Monica shot back with that same toothy grin her mother has. She made her way up the rest of the tree and sat on the highest branch she felt comfortable with, kicking her feet with pride. Carol decided to climb the tree next, doing it with ease to meet Monica on the branch. She sat on the one next to it, as to not add too much weight. 

“Why didn’t you just fly or float or something?” 

“That would be cheating! Plus, I wanna be as cool as you are. I wish I had a camera so we could show your mom!”

“I’ll just have to do it again!”

“Sounds like a plan, kiddo.”

Carol laughed, squeezing Monica’s cheek just a bit before letting her climb on her shoulders to fly back down and head to the house to clean up. 

After washing up, they decided to play some video games for a bit until it was time to start setting up for dinner. They had about two hours until Maria got home and they both wanted to at least be started on food when she arrived. Monica pulled out all her favorites and told Carol to pick which one to play first. They took turns picking after the first few rounds of operation, shutes and ladders, and jenga - all of which Monica won.

Carol insisted on playing something she had a fighting chance at, so they grabbed the deck of cards from the coffee table and played Go Fish. Carol won the first round, but Monica won the last three. Finally, admitting full defeat, Carol asked if they had anymore games. Monica grabbed two more from where they kept them, splaying them on the table. Carol’s eyes caught something familiar, pulling it to herself without a thought. She stared at the worn box and tried to remember. Monica watched, offering an explanation just as Carol was finding one of her own.

“Mom says she always used to beat you at this. She wouldn’t play it with me for a while but one day she brought it out after dinner and taught me. She beat me too the first two times, but I beat her after that. You wanna play?”

Carol wasn’t sure if she was biting back a smile, a laugh, or tears. She nodded and let Monica set the board up. Monica read the instructions out loud just in case Carol didn’t remember it, which Carol wasn’t sure if she did. She decided to just play and see what sticks. Monica handed her the light blue piece without asking, and Carol saw that it had her initials written on it. She watched as Monica sorted through the colors, passing over the purple one that had M.R written on it. She felt a tug in her heart as she watched Monica choose the red one that had a small, barely legible M.R on it too. She watched as Monica pulled out cards and then a set of white and black dice. Carol stood up abruptly, leaving Monica no time to question it.

“Hang on, there’s two pieces missing. I’ll go grab them.”

Carol ran upstairs almost embarrassingly fast and b-lined for the box she had looked through earlier. She grabbed the two colorful die she had left there earlier and headed back downstairs, feeling a mixture of excitement and belonging, along with a deeper, quieter sense of yearning. 

Her and Monica played several rounds, Monica winning the first one until Carol remembered all her strategies from all the times she had beat Maria’s ass at the game. Carol agreed to another game, rolling the dice first since she lost the last round. She rolled doubles, and took her turn. While Monica was doing her lucky roll ritual of blowing on the dice and kissing her small hands, Carol felt herself slipping into a memory she had long displaced. She let herself remember slowly, recalling the reason the dice had even been separated from the game board in the first place. 

“You take the board, I’ll take the dice. That way, we both have a piece, neither of us can play, and then no one else gets the chance to whoop your ass. That’s reserved for my talents.”

Carol laughed, but she was being serious. She was desperate to hold onto anything that could be just for them. Something she could carry in her pocket shamelessly, that no one would understand if they saw. They might think she had a gambling addiction or something, no one would suspect she was trying to hold onto any remnants she could of the woman she loved in her everyday life. She watched as Maria chuckled, probably formulating a sarcastic comeback, Carol assumed with a smirk. Maria never just accepted defeat, that's why they had played the game so many times. 

“Sounds good to me, Danvers. I wouldn’t let anybody else win, anyway.” 

Maria quipped back, knowing she never actually let the other woman win but she couldn’t resist making her think about the possibility. She, too, was happy to keep as many tangible reminders of what they had with her. They both had been fighting with themselves for their friendship to be enough, that having that ripped away from them sent them both reeling. She rubbed her finger over the ripped up pricing sticker on the back of the box waiting for Carol to respond.

“Yeah, OKAY. Like hell you let me win. No one loses that many times, THAT bad and is just letting-”

Maria wrapped her arms around the other woman, letting the box and a few pieces fall out on her bed. She held on tight and fought against sniffling. She wouldn’t let herself let it go. Let her go. She felt Carol choke on the words she didn’t get to finish and relax her body into the embrace. It was almost too relaxed. Neither wanted to admit they were fighting back tears that might never stop flowing if they let them start.

Carol didn’t mind being cut off, she was just finding words to string together anyway. There really wasn’t time for small talk but what else were they supposed to do? Leave it up to Maria to figure it out. To do the thing no one else would. To make the move everyone was afraid to - the one Carol was afraid too. Most people thought Carol was the fearless one just based off her usual demeanor and what people saw her do. Little did they know that she had never been more terrified than in this moment. Not knowing when they’d be able to play the game again. Not knowing when they would be able to touch like this again. Not knowing anything other than that they were afraid and loved each other so deeply.

They sat like that for longer than they both figured they should’ve, but neither felt any regret or shame in the moments as they piled up. They both ignored the awkward angle they were in, they both ignored the sounds outside the barracks room, they both ignored the clock as it ticked cruelly forward. They sank into each other, both laying their chins on the other's shoulder, letting the sides of their faces touch. It was close enough to look over and kiss. Neither dared to let the thought get too loud, choosing to let the contact be enough. It always had to be just enough, between them.

They didn’t say much after that, just small hums and sniffles here and there as they rocked slowly trying to find any sort of comfort they could. They laid down after a while, and before Maria could protest through her tears, Carol promised she would get up early enough to make it back to her room before the bus left the base. They laid there, quietly fighting sleep, wrapped as close together as they could be. Maria kept her face down and her forehead on Carol’s chest, Carol kept her arm under Maria’s neck and pulled her as close as she could with the other. Eventually she reached for Maria’s hand, this time it was her turn to do the thing that they both needed someone to do. Maria eventually cried herself to sleep, and Carol stayed up just rocking her softly until the sun came up. 

When she stood up to leave, grabbing her bags and smoothing a hand over her braid, Maria turned over to take her in. She tried to glare at her, but it softened itself against her will into a sad smile. 

“Don’t you dare leave without saying goodbye, Danvers.” 

They both felt a warm tear or two tear itself across their cheeks. Carol tried her best to match the smile Maria was bravely offering her but it came off even weaker. She walked over and kissed the woman on the forehead before turning to leave, afraid that if she stayed even a minute longer she would never leave. Thoughts of going AWOL floated through her head for the billionth time since she had gotten her orders four days ago. She fought them off with as much strength as she could muster and took another step into the door frame.

“I wouldn’t dream of it.”

She felt the glare of a rising sun sear into her eyes and she stepped through the threshold, choosing not to look back at the woman on the bed she had just left. Maria wondered if she would’ve looked back either, as she let herself curl into herself and let out the sobs she was fighting back before. She silenced them as best as she could and stayed that way until she had to get up, leaving her no choice but to pull herself together into something that resembled the woman she was just a few days before. 

Carol stood outside the door, trying hard not to listen for Maria for a moment before forcing her feet forward. Step after step, more tears fell from her as she grit her teeth to fight back the screams sitting in her chest. She, too, had to be put together in the next few minutes and it seemed the most impossible task. It almost was.

“Ma’? It’s your turn.”

Carol shook her head, only then registering the wetness in her eyes. She picked up the dice and rolled them, trying to refocus on the game infront of her. She shouted when she rolled doubles again, meaning she got to go twice now.

“Looks like I still got it, afterall!”

“Yeah.. sure. Let’s ignore that I beat you all the other times.” 

Monica laughed out, observing the change in her mother.

“I was just letting you win!”

Carol laughed, mostly to herself, as she moved the blue piece across the board.

“That’s what mom always says. I don’t believe her and I definitely don’t believe you!”

Monica shot back playfully. This made them both laugh, knowing it was true. Some things don’t change.

They kept playing a few turns until Monica finally decided to ask the question she had been formulating the whole game so far.

“What were you thinking about?”

“What do you mean?”

“Just now, after you took your first turn. It seemed like you weren’t really here for a little bit.” 

Monica, just like her mother, ever to the point. Carol hesitated before choosing to just answer truthfully.

“Sometimes, when I’m home with you guys or even when I’m out there in space.. If I touch something, or smell something or someone says a certain somethin’... I remember stuff. Sometimes its just a quick second in my mind, sometimes its like flashbacks. I have a lot of rememberin’ to do, so sometimes I get stuck trying to see it clearly.”

Monica stared at the woman in front of her with understanding eyes. She waited a moment before responding.

“That makes sense, you know. I heard on TV that amnesia can make it take a while to get all your memories back.”

Carol shifted in her seat at the word amnesia, because it was so medical. She never actually did get checked out by a doctor on earth, trying to avoid a conversation about why she was super charged 24/7. She didn’t want to draw attention to her family but she had heard the word being tossed around by Fury and Maria a few times. She nodded at Monica, motioning for the girl to take her turn as they talked. Monica continued.

“Ya’know… I like when you remember stuff. Sometimes I get sad thinking you don’t know all the stuff I do. But then I just remember that it's still in there somewhere. There’s a lot of good stuff waiting for you.”

The girl smiled reassuringly, finishing her turn and deciding to pat Carol’s hand softly just like her mom does to her when she’s upset by something.

“You’re pretty smart, you know that?”

“Of course I know that. I’m actually a genius, but that’s all just semantics.”

“You got me there, kiddo.”

Carol said while rolling the dice again and moving her pieces. She might actually win this round.

“If you ever have any questions about stuff, you can just ask me. Mommy doesn’t always tell you or me everything, but I remember. Sometimes I think I know more than both of you combined.” 

Monica smirked, looking over the board calculating precisely how to take Carol out now that she had her where she wanted her. She took her turn calmly, trying not to alert Carol to her master plan. Carol watched mindlessly as the girls piece glided across the board. Maybe she wouldn’t win this round, actually.

“That would be nice, Mon. Thanks. You can ask me stuff too. Also, just spare me and take me out now!”

Carol smirked back, knowing she would have to roll doubles again to beat the red piece.

“It’s no fun if you just give up!”

Carol decided to do Monica’s good luck trick this time, blowing on each die separately and then kissing her hands when she brought them together. She tossed them on the board aimlessly, trying not to focus on the numbers so she didn’t jinx it. They both watched as both die rolled a 3.

“No way!”

“Haha! Maybe your lucky trick does work!” 

Carol laughed as she moved her piece past Monica’s and into the goal. Finally, a win. She stood up and did a goofy dance around the table like Monica had done before her when she was winning. They both started the giggles again, deciding it was probably time to start cleaning up and getting everything ready for dinner.

As they sorted through the cabinets together, Monica standing on the counter despite what her mother would say, Monica began telling Carol stories to see if she could help jog her memory since Carol hadn’t asked any questions yet. She ran through her baby years, her toddler years - especially her ‘troublesome two’s’ as Maria calls them, and everything up until when Carol went missing. They both chose not to talk about why there was such a gap in time. Carol listened quietly, laughing here and there when the story almost always resulted in some hilarious mishap on Carol and Monica’s part. Monica felt successful as she could see her mom piecing things together while they attempted to boil noodles and mix together pasta sauce on the stove. They both tried to keep it from getting messy, not wanting to add any stress to Maria’s plate when she got home. 

Monica told as many stories as she could while Carol took them in happily, filing some away to focus on later when she could fully process them. They were all happy moments, usually funny. It was nice to know that life was good before the accident. Finally, when they started grating the cheese together, Monica decided she would ask some questions now since she had told so many stories. She had a lot she wanted to know too. 

“Here, you do this one and I’ll do this one. Just be careful with the grater, it can get tricky towards the end.” 

Carol motioned to Monica as she walked over to the table with a bowl to put the cheese in when they were done. Carol picked up some cheese and got to work, being mindful herself. Just because cuts healed up quickly for her didn’t mean they didn’t sting when she got them. She knew this well, especially being in a kitchen. Monica started grating too, trying to perfectly time her question. She had been through the boxes upstairs too, always making sure to leave them how she found them so she didn’t tip her mother off. She never understood why she kept them private from her like she didn’t already know about most of the stuff in there. 

“So, why don’t you and mom kiss anymore?”

Carol’s hand skidded to a stop, a choke coming up her throat that ended in a cough she could barely get out. She stood there stunned for a moment, unsure if she had heard the girl correctly. She didn’t notice the small cut on the side of her finger from the edge of the grater yet.

“W-what?”

“Why don’t you and mommy kiss anymore? I don’t know why she keeps all that stuff in the boxes upstairs a secret like I didn’t always see you guys. It was normal when you guys acted normal, now it’s weird seeing you two act different. Did you guys get into a fight or something?”

Carol was still too stunned to speak, standing over the more than half grated cheese that was now no good to use since her finger was bleeding a bit more. Monica looked up at her and noticed the blood, then stared at her with those same curious eyes, only now a touch of concern in them. Carol could feel the stare so she forced herself to shake her head again, clearing her throat in the process.

“I, um, I don’t really know what you’re talking about I don’t think.”

“Right. Here, your blood is ruining the cheese.”

Monica handed her a towel. Carol looked down and finally noticed all the blood. It wasn’t a crazy amount but definitely enough to have ruined the cheese. She wrapped the towel around it and walked to the sink, rinsing it off with cool water while she felt like she was in a daze. She started thinking about the letter Maria had sent her again. She read through the words in her head again, over and over while the water stung her finger. She could hear Monica in the back cleaning up her mess and she felt bad. She felt bad for ruining a part of dinner per usual, but also for reacting this way. And for not actually having an answer. She couldn’t have been sure before this but now she could.

Maybe? Maybe Monica meant cheek kissing or forehead kisses. Maybe her child mind was more innocent than Carol’s confused one. She turned the water off and looked in the junk drawer for some bandaids. She pulled out a pink barbie one and wrapped it tight over her new cut. It would probably be gone in a few hours but she wanted the security of the bandaid in the moment. For some reason, she felt shaken up again. Her face felt hot and her chest felt tight. She turned back to Monica who was finishing up her grating now, adding it into the bowl. As Carol walked back over to grab it to put with the rest of the food, she was searching for something to say in response that actually made sense. Before she could get anything out, Monica chimed in again.

“I’m sorry I asked, I wasn’t sure if it would make you feel funny. But please don’t tell mom I was snooping. I just wanted to see as much of you as I could. But she’ll be upset with me if you tell, I think.”

“Don’t worry about it, Trouble. Secrets safe with me.” 

Carol said, smiling weakly at the girl. Monica did feel bad, but she also kind of knew this would be the reaction Carol would have. It only confirmed one of her theories, that Carol didn’t remember that her and Maria were in a relationship. She was almost tempted to say something else when they both heard the sound of Maria’s car pull in the long drive way. They looked at each other and nodded quickly. Monica started cleaning off the table while Carol started making plates. Finally, something her super speed could help with. She made all three plates and set them on the table right as Maria opened the front door. Monica ran over to her, hugging her tightly as she hung her bag on the rack near the door. She hugged back, running her hand softly over the girls forehead with a smile. 

“Smells good in here. Did Monica cook?” Maria laughed, kicking off her work shoes and slipping on the sandals she wore around the house. 

“Haha, very funny!”

Carol shouted from the kitchen where she was borderline having a panic attack, trying to figure out how to act normal enough to get through the rest of the night with Monica’s question looming over her head.

“Nope, I only helped! Mama Carol did most of the work. I made lunch though. Mom said it was the best sandwich she’d ever had anywhere in all the galaxies!”

Monica exclaimed, only half telling the truth, as she nearly dragged Maria to the kitchen table. 

“I said something like that, yes.”

Carol laughed, her mouth forming into a smile when her eyes met Maria’s.

Maria smiled back before quickly looking around the kitchen, half expecting to see a new scorch mark somewhere. 

“It looks… the same as I left it, in here, minus a few dirty dishes. I’m impressed, Danvers.” 

Maria smirked, walking to the sink to wash her hands before sitting down and letting Monica get in her lap. She was certainly growing, she barely fit between the table and Maria anymore but she always made it work. 

“How was your day?”

Monica asked her mother, once again kicking her feet excitedly, being back in the presence of Maria. It meant a lot to Maria that she still got excited to see her. She hoped it would last through puberty.

“Ya’know, same ol’ same ol’. Protecting the world from aliens, which oddly enough usually is just a bunch of paperwork no one else reads or signs. So, pretty successful I guess.”

Maria laughed, pulling Monica’s cheek in for a small peck.

“I’m more interested in how YA’LL’S day went. The lawn looks… great, by the way.”

Before Carol could chime in, which she wasn’t going to being that she was staring at Maria’s toned arms the entire time she’d been in the room, Monia answered for them both.

“It was AWESOME! We caught so many frogs, I named one after you, and then I finally climbed up the whole tree!”

Maria chuckled, noting the small scrapes on her daughter but not worrying. It wasn’t a normal day if Monica didn’t get at least one scrape or bruise from her exploring.

“Well, I’m flattered. Did you get any help from a certain superhero, by any chance?”

“Nope, she did it all on her own. Much faster than I did, too.”

Carol answered while shooting her hands up like finger guns, shooting a wink to Monica who delighted at the remark.

Maria looked at the pink Barbie bandaid on the woman’s finger and half laughed half frowned.

“Seems like no one made it out without a few cuts today, huh?”

Carol looked down at her hand, almost embarrassed. She laughed.

“She got that from grating cheese, not climbing the tree!”

Monica answered, once again saving Carol from trying to find words. 

“Why am I not surprised? Well anyways, thank you both for doing such a good job with the chores today. Looks like you both really earned that extra tv time tonight.” 

Maria winked at them both before letting Monica scoot off her leg and back into her own chair, ready to eat.

“Thank god, I’m so hungry. I forgot to pack lunch last night so all I had today was a bunch of coffee and some nasty as- mm, some gross altoids my secretary had.”

“Sheesh. I hope it actually tastes like food this time then! Oop, I forgot the forks.” Carol said, about to get up and grab them. Monica beat her to it and ran over to the counter, leaving the two women with a moment or two to take each other in. They both held back a sigh, and just smiled at each other. The eye contact felt too much for both of them, for the same and different reasons. 

Monica returned and they broke their shared gaze, both feeling a mixture of missing it and thankful that it was over. Monica handed everyone a fork she had picked specifically for them and they all ate, swapping stories of their days back and forth. Maria laughed feeling relieved hearing how well the day went, she was hoping she would still have a house to come back between Monica and Carol. As they were all finishing their meals, Maria noticed the stack of games left out on the coffee table. 

“Make sure you put those up, Mon’.” She said softly, taking a sip of some iced tea. 

“I will. Also, guess who won the most games tonight? Guess, guess!”

Carol shook her head with a laugh.

“Hmm, if I was gonna take a wild guess… You?!” 

Maria smiled widely, pointing at her daughter playfully.

“You betcha’! I whooped Mama Carol’s butt like eighty billion times at all the games. Even the one you taught me that she was supposed to be super good at, even with the new fancy dice! She only won that one three times, and the last one was just pure luck cause’ I almost had it!” 

Carol and Monica laughed together, and suddenly Maria’s eyes unfocused. The laughter in the background melted into one sound, and everything else started to go quiet. She thought about the dice. The colors on the dots. Where she had left them sitting, in the box, in her room. She thought about why they were in Carol’s belongings and not her own. Then she thought about everything else that was in the box with them. She only came to when Monica and Carol’s laughing slowed down, reminding her that it would seem weird if she didn’t respond in the next second or two.

“Well, it looks like the mighty do fall sometimes. I used to let her win that game every time we played it.” 

Maria half heartedly laughed with a smirk, almost instantly regretting bringing up the past. Carol looked down at her almost empty plate for a moment before fixing her own face to shoot back something well timed and sarcastic enough to play off the shudder that sentence sent through her spine.

“Hmm, crazy cause when it comes to everyone else in the world, meaning you, I’m still the world champion. Monica just had that lucky dice trick.” 

Before Maria could even laugh, Monica jumped in.

“Hey! It’s not just the lucky dice, I just also happen to be the smartest person in the whole wide stinkin’ world too!”

“You make a good point.”

Carol and Maria said in unison, both with an adoring laugh. All three looked at each other and broke out laughing, feeling thankful for the lack of awkwardness that probably would’ve left in the air if it wasn’t so funny.

After that, everyone finished and avoided the different subjects on everyone’s minds happily. Carol cleaned up the plates, grazing by Maria’s arm while she walked to the sink. Monica pulled Maria over to the couch with her while Carol washed the dishes, quickly putting away all the games they had left out and positioning herself on the couch while Maria flipped through the channels for her. She had sat right in the middle, leaving just enough space for either woman on both sides of her. She really did live up to that nickname sometimes, both mother’s thought. When Carol made her way over, they were just settling on a show to watch. 

“Remember, you get 10 extra minutes.”

“Does that have to count commercials? Can we pause the timer when they come on? Pleeeeeaasssshhhhh.”

Monica pretended to beg to both women who laughed. 

“We’ll see what we can do. Time starts now, though.”

Maria answered her. Monica turned towards the tv and leaned back, wanting to take in every minute she had. She normally would get about an episode and a half in during her nighttime tv, maybe two if her mom dozed off in between. She was sure she was going to get at least two this time, since Maria looked sleepy. She didn’t account for Carol’s super powers making her have a longer stamina, but she figured she wouldn’t snitch. She looked up at her as they watched and she shot her down a wink in return, solidifying their silent agreement. As long as it was still summertime, Carol didn’t have an issue with it. Of course, she wouldn’t go against Maria, though, unless of course she fell asleep. Which she usually did. 

The three sat through an episode, choosing not to count the commercials in their internal timers, and started the second one. A few minutes in, Monica had positioned herself with her head and back on Carol’s lap, with her legs and feet on Maria’s. She watched the show quietly, not noticing herself dozing off. Once the second episode was over, she was fast asleep, nearly drooling on Carol. Both women laughed quietly at the sight. Maria reaches for the remote to turn off the tv while Carol effortlessly lifts Monica up and begins to walk her to her room. As she walks away, Maria fights the idea of Carol lifting her that way and carrying her to bed. She shakes her head and stands up to go to the fridge.

When Carol makes her way back downstairs after carefully tucking the young girl in, she’s greeted with Maria passing her a beer and a bottle opener. 

“Not sure if you still need to use these, but c’mon.”

Carol doesn’t need it but she chooses to use it anyway. She follows Maria without question through the front door and onto the porch. The sun is down now and it’s not quite as warm as it was the night before. 

“God, I’ve been waiting for this all day.” 

Maria says, taking a long swig from the cold bottle. She sits down on the steps and leans back on her elbows, beer still laced between her fingers. She looks like she’s relaxing but Carol wonders if she is. She stands against one of the posts for a moment, opening her beer, before sitting down next to the woman but not too close. She hopes she’s the only one who can feel the tension in the air. It’s different than last time she was home.

“Long day, I take it?”

“Always.” 

Maria sighs with a short laugh, taking another sip. 

“But that’s the job. I’m sure you get it.”

Maria finishes, not sure if what she said sounded shady or not. It wasn’t meant to be. Or maybe it was, but it wasn’t coming from the part of her she was trying to show up as it. It was coming from the part she was burying inside of her.

“I do, but I also don’t. You have a lot to handle all the time. I’m happy I… can help, I guess.”

Carol wasn’t sure if that last part was a question or not. They both almost flinched at the word help. Carol was more than just a friend who liked to help. She was a parent and neither wanted her to take that away from herself just because of how long she had been away. Both decided not to say anything in the moment, though. They both just sipped their beers and looked out in front of them, gazing up and out at the world around them. Somehow, it felt bigger now that they were both on it together.

Maria thought about the box again, trying to keep it from her mind to no avail. She also thought about Carol’s skin grazing against hers in the kitchen earlier. She wondered if their contact would be minimal. Despite the late night and early morning they had shared, they hadn’t really touched or even been this close since. The first night never counted, that was their unspoken rule since the second time Carol had been home.

She was exhausted when she arrived, fighting to stay awake long enough to talk to both Rambeaus’ even though she wanted to so badly. It had been a particularly grueling mission and she had flown directly back to Earth after the conflict was over, not taking a break. So, when Maria offered to watch some TV with her on the couch, she sank quickly into the cushions. Before they knew it, they had woken up to the sun coming through the living room windows, curled into each other. Neither thought it was weird then, so why was it weird now? 

Carol thought about the box too, rereading the words from the letter in her mind again. Thinking about the pictures on Maria’s desk. Then she thought about the dream she had, with everyone sitting on the porch. She was so deep into replaying it that she almost jumped when a frog hopped by, startling both women from their respective day dreams.

“I think that’s the one Monica named after you.”

Carol laughed, remembering the day she had fondly.

“I’m flattered.”

Maria laughed back, the laugh jumping up her throat. It’s like she needed to laugh, after a long day of dealing with domestic and intergalactic bullshit, along with the mark Carol was burning into her brain.

It started to go quiet again until Carol spoke up, feeling the bubbles from the beer in her brain even if it wasn’t going to get her tipsy.

“You know, I dream about sitting on this porch a lot.” “Yeah?”

Maria asks, not looking at Carol.

“Yeah. With you and Mon. There’s always a shit ton of bubbles everywhere and it’s always a really nice day. I have that dream a lot. Except for when I’m actually here.”

Carol explained, partly relieved to share it with Maria. She leaned back, taking a sip before setting the beer down on the step next to her. She waited to see if Maria would answer, unsure if she wanted her to. 

Maria sat with a small smile, unsure if she would be able to keep herself composed through the moment. She dreams about home. 

“You know, when you first came back with your powers, I wondered if you still even needed to sleep.”

“Ha, you know I had the same thought when I realized I wasn’t actually half Kree. On the planet, I slept but I never felt tired. I only started to feel regular human things when I came back here. It was nice to feel sleepy again. It made rest feel satisfying, instead of just kind of necessary.”

Maria looked over at Carol, daring to meet eyes if she looked over too. She wanted to run a hand over the woman's thigh, comfort her for all the things she was sure were running through her mind. She wanted to reach out, pull her into her chest, and hold her there like a child. She wanted to rip all the pain of being conditioned and having to fight to undo it from her, stop it out on the ground and set it on fire for her. With a regular match, not fire from her hands even though sometimes she was convinced she could produce some magic power from her own hands too if she let herself feel enough. She hadn’t realized she had been staring and hadn’t responded until Carol finally turned to look at her. 

“I’m okay, you know. You don’t have to look at me like I’m gonna burst into flames any second. I’m okay, I feel normal being here.”

Carol smiled reassuringly, almost shyly.

“I know, I just hate those bastards.”

Maria sighed, letting her shoulders fall as she looked down at the space between them.

“I feel you. But, you know, someone once told me hate takes up too much room.”

Maria’s heart skipped a beat. Of course Carol would remember one of her wiser parables now, when all she wanted to do was be angry for her. It was usually the other way around, but despite her usual craziness, Carol always had a way of saying the right thing at the right time, even if she didn’t mean to. A superpowered space warrior was right two times a day, it seemed. She let herself laugh, but it came out rougher than she had expected. 

Carol reached over instinctively to grab her hand, squeezing it tight. That’s the second time. Maria thought, wondering if Carol was counting the times they touched too. She felt a dangerous warmth push its way to her chest. She would blame it on the beer like she always did but she couldn’t. Why was she on the verge of tears?

“Hey.” Carol whispered, trying to look at the woman’s face. She tried to smile, squeezing her hand again. This time, Maria squeezed back before pulling it away and picking her empty beer bottle up. 

“I think I’m gonna take a shower, long day, you know. If you wanna borrow some pajamas again, feel free to grab some from my dresser.”

Carol sat still for a moment, wondering if she had gone too far. Normally conversations like this would flow with ease and mutual fluidity. They would hang on each other’s every word until the inevitable came when the sun rose. Maria would wake Monica up to say goodbye, they’d share a cup or two of coffee and by the time the sun was almost at it’s peak, Carol would be long in the distance, no longer even in the atmosphere. So now, having more time than normal, she hoped she hadn’t over stepped. As Maria closed in on the door, only half a step before entering, Carol turned around to look at her.

“Where do you want me to sleep?”

Maria paused, not sure what to say. How did she communicate that she would rather pull her own hair out strand by strand than lay in her bed alone, without Carol Danvers, for another night? How did she explain that she didn’t want to sleep, she was tired in a way only Carol’s skin and fingers and mouth could heal her of? How did she communicate that this was her house too, and she could sleep wherever the fuck she wanted - on the roof if she pleased - as long as Maria could be next to her, without saying any of that?

“Wherever you feel comfortable.” She turned and smiled as best as she could before letting the screen door close behind her, trying to keep a normal pace as she made her way to the bathroom.

Carol sat on the steps for a few more minutes, giving Maria time to get her things for her shower ready and giving herself time to ponder what she should do. Should she sleep on the couch? Should she tell Maria that there’s no where in the universe more comfortable to her than next to her? Should she pretend she didn’t read the letter and see the pictures and hear what Monica said earlier? Should she just sleep on the god damn couch? Having not made up her mind yet, she wandered upstairs and pulled out an old teeshirt from one of the boxes she had been in earlier. She shivered when she looked at the box with the letter in it. She forced herself to focus, shuffling through to find anything appropriate to wear and pulled out some old PT shorts. They were certainly going to be shorter on her now than they were then, given she had put on some much needed muscle in certain areas but they’d have to do.

She felt too embarrassed to go through Maria’s drawer, wear her clothes and then awkwardly make her way to the couch downstairs, only to have to face her in the morning when breakfast time came. She didn’t feel right marking Maria’s belongings, even if they were just a bunch of holiday themed pajamas that she didn’t wear that often anyways. 

Carol decided to change as quickly as she could, and wait to say goodnight to Maria when she came in. She figured she should probably sleep on the couch, suddenly feeling very much like a guest who didn’t want to overstay their welcome. She switched out of her bottoms and underwear, jumping into the shorts she had found. They were snug but not uncomfortable. She took her shirt off quickly and as she began pulling her sports bra over her head, Maria walked in.

Shit.

Shit.

They both thought in unison. Thankfully, Carol’s back was to the door, so she pulled on the t shirt she found quickly while scolding herself for not paying attention enough to hear Maria coming down the hall. 

“S-sorry! I didn’t know you were in here yet. Didn’t see anything.” 

Maria assured, despite the fact that she was still staring at Carol’s once bare back while the woman folded up her clothes in a hurry. To Carol’s surprise, when she turned around, all she saw was Maria’s naked shoulders, moisturized perfectly, with a purple towel wrapped around her. She turned back around almost quicker than Maria could register. It was Carol’s turn to stutter.

“Oh shit, s-sorry! I didn’t see anything either! I didn’t hear you coming!”

Maria accidentally laughed.

“Don’t you have super hearing?”

“Shut up! It only works when you pay attention to it! I thought you were still in the shower. I’m surprised you were so fast, Lt. Trouble told me you use all the hot water.”

Carol quipped back confidently, although she was still turned around and suddenly felt very warm.

“Oh, Trouble indeed. What else did she tell you?”

“A bunch.” 

Carol responded with a smirk in her voice. She sounded like a middle schooler, again reminding Maria how alike her and Monica were. 

“I’m sure. You can turn around now, if you want.”

Carol turned to see Maria smoothing a big white shirt over her belly button, quickly covering up the top of her thighs that were barely covered by the blue boy shorts she was wearing underneath. Carol stared down at the clothes in her hands trying not to seem as anxious as she was. She bent down to pick up the black pair of underwear and a sock she had dropped when she heard Maria chuckle.

“HA! What the hell are you wearing? Are those PT shorts? And does your underwear say Danvers? You still do that?” 

She was practically giggling at this point, a sound that sprung butterflies up in Carol’s stomach. It also taunted her, leaving her no choice but to rebuttal. 

“Listen man! I’m working with what I got! And no, I don’t still write my name in my underwear. I got these from the box of my old clothes.” 

Carol quipped, but found herself almost giggling too. She would’ve found it funny if Maria had on PT shorts from bootcamp too. 

“Whew. That is hilarious, Danvers.”

Maria breathes out, barely recovering from her fit of laughter at Carol’s expense. 

“Oh yeah, I’m flattered!”

She rolled her eyes playfully at Maria. They both sat down on the bed trying to collect themselves, both feeling lighter than before by a small margin.

After a few moments, Maria broke the impending silence before it could secure itself between them.

“Seems like you an Mon’ had a good day. Hopefully she didn’t give you too much trouble for one day.”

“Nah, it wasn’t too bad at all. She did whoop my ass in pretty much every game you guys own though.”

Carol smiled to herself. Maria fought hard to avoid bringing up the board game and the dice again. She quickly found a new topic to latch onto.

“You know, I must say, you also really did a great job not burning the place down with all that cooking you were doing. Are the aliens teaching you how to handle a kitchen or have you been practicing?”

She laughs, almost forced but she was actually impressed.

“Mmm. Id say it was pure dumb luck, but I’m gonna try to replicate it tomorrow.” 

Carol chuckles, not knowing that the mention of tomorrow was sending Maria’s heart into a frenzy. Silence weasled it’s way back between them for a few moments, although Carol didn’t pick up on it as much this time. It wasn’t until Maria broke it again that she realized it was her turn to figure out how to not let it freeze the warm air between them.

“So, there’s a tomorrow?” 

Maria asked timidly, not wanting to latch too tightly onto the idea that Carol might be staying for longer than coffee in the morning.

“Uh, yeah. I’ll be here tomorrow. I wanna try my hand at making waffles this time.”

Carol tries to cut the returned tension she felt. 

“I was thinking about working on my old car in the garage too, if that’s okay with you of course.”

“Yeah, of course. You know you don’t have to ask. This is your house, too. And it’s literally your car.”

Your house, too. Carol reached into the pocket of the pants she had on earlier, pulling out two colorful dice. She rolled them around in her hand for a second. 

“Yeah?”

She said, turning to finally face the woman sitting once again a bit too far away from her. The feeling of being a guest in her own home no longer sat in her chest. She allowed her eyes to make their way up Maria’s frame before meeting her eyes. Carol felt her hand move towards the woman, who was now looking down at one of the die in her non moving hand. Maria was almost terrified to meet her gaze, breath caught in her throat. Carol felt their hands connect, dropping the other die in her hand before closing her fingers around Maria’s. The woman next to her squeezed tight, almost too tight even for the superhero. 

Maria finally met Carol’s eyes with her own, finally releasing her breath, allowing her chest to move. 

“Yeah.” 

She said softly, almost too soft to hear but just enough for Carol. They both looked like they might burst into tears, both of them having to break eye contact but refusing to release each other from their grip. Third time, Maria counted in her blurring mind. She suddenly felt like all she could hear was her own heartbeat and Carol’s breath. They were close again, it was all she needed. She needed to feel Carol’s skin, know she was real. Know she wouldn’t let go.

Carol struggling against her own breath, finally let the desperation sitting inside of her take control. 

“What’re we doing, ‘Ri?”

She asked, in almost a whisper. She heard Maria’s breath get choked in her throat, just like she had earlier in the kitchen with Monica. She was still worried that she might have pushed too far too fast, but she needed something. Anything Maria could give her. An answer, a rejection, anything. She couldn’t sit still in the stifled confusion much longer, she feared she might actually implode. She waited, listening to Maria’s breathing. In and out, in and out. Like she was trying to quietly catch her breath. She heard her heart beat, it matched her own. Like they could beat out of their chests and find the other heart. Like they needed to be pressed together. So, Carol did just that. Finally listening to what her body was telling her. Hoping it wouldn’t be the wrong thing.

Just as Maria tried to whisper I don’t know, she let go of Maria’s hand and pulled her in, chest to chest, nestling her face in Maria’s shoulder. Maria whimpered, almost in shock. It took her almost 10 seconds to return the embrace, finally crushing into Carol the way she needed to. She knelt her face in the warmth of Carol’s neck, creating a tsunami in Carol from the graze of her lips against the side of her neck alone. They made themselves impossibly close, quieting the sounds of the world and honing in on each other’s heart beats. They took in each other’s scent, filling their lungs with the air surrounding each other. They let their hair tickle each other, finding comfort in the familiar feeling of Blackness around them. They rocked into each other to a rhythm that was so natural it almost felt like part of breathing. Finally, Maria let it drop.

A single tear rolled down Carol’s shoulder, sliding down as far as it could carry itself. Maria choked back what was sure to be her own tsunami.

“Mar-”

“I miss you. -- I miss you I m-iss you I miss you.”

She whispered with a drawn out sob. It was so quiet, it felt tragic to them both. 

Carol was silent, letting the woman release whatever she was ready to, feeling her chest heave with the impatience to relieve itself from the pent up emotions. She felt the woman in her arms shake softly, trying to fight back anything she convinced herself was a weakness. She had things to do, a person to be, a child to raise. She couldn’t let the grief get her again. But it was always there, maybe even more now in some ways. She hadn’t let this happen in so long, and the weight of pretending had pushed her to the edge of herself. She was the strongest woman in the world, and it was because she was soft. 

Carol struggled against her own tears, trying not to let them come so that she wouldn’t center her own pain in the moment. They were both too similar for their own good. She listened to Maria’s body pull the words up her throat and out her mouth, betraying her as they saved her from the pit she kept forcing herself into.

“I miss you ss-so much.” She repeated several times over. Like it was the only language she spoke. Eventually, she stopped, letting her fingers relax from gripping into Carol’s skin as tight as she could. She leaned into Carol more, feeling the weight of her body’s exhaustion mix with that of her mind. Carol let her, holding her firm but gentle. She lifted the woman up just as effortlessly as she did Monica, and carried her to her side of the bed, never moving her face from her shoulder. She laid her and herself down, sliding easily over top of her until she was on her side, careful not to put any weight on Maria’s body. She pulled the cover over them, that being the only time her hand left Maria’s body. She cradled the soft woman, giving her all of herself. She rocked her gently, counting her heart beats. 

As Maria’s breath finally got slower and deeper, she knew she would be asleep soon. Maria didn’t want to sleep but she needed it. Carol needed it to. They stuck to each other like glue, once again paying no mind to the heat stuck between them. Carol whispered back, finally.

“I miss you too.”

She felt Maria squeeze her tighter, then release and finally relax her body all the way. 

No more sniffles, no more sounds, just the weightless feeling of being together. It was easy again, for the moment. Carol rubbed her thumb lightly over Maria’s back, comforting them both enough to rest. She let the thoughts she had been fighting release from the walls of her mind, daring to look at them. She thought about the night in the lake, laying in the sand. She thought about the night before she left for a new base, with no idea when they’d be together again. She thought about the first time she came home, the gentle uncertainty between them melting away like it always did - no matter how much still needed to be figured out. She wasn’t sure how much progress had been made, but she knew that this is where she needed to be. As she finally let herself drift off to sleep, knowing that Maria was alright enough now, she knew she wouldn’t dream. She released herself to the peace of belonging, only to be startled one more time.

“Don’t you even think about leaving until you finish that car.” 

Maria commanded, even in her softest state. Carol smiled, feeling even more in place now.

“I wouldn’t dream of it.”

[cordycepsfem]

Pageboy Readthrough, Part Seven

Previously

the entire thing was awful from start to finish

we learned nothing about Canada

but that's not why it was awful

it was awful because EP details several instances of sexual assault, homophobia, and rape

she says briefly that she felt like a weight was lifted when she came out

but it didn't last very long

your reviewer stopped because Chapter Nine opened with sex and she just couldn't take it

Now

Chapter Nine

as previously stated this chapter dumps us immediately into sex

and your reviewer immediately has some questions

okay, so, first - both "my dick" and "my pussy" = got it, sure, whatever

"queerer than ever" when just performing lesbianism = sure, whatever you need to call it, EP

"magnets sucking"?? is this meant to be sexy? has EP ever stuck two magnets together? did they make a sucking sound to her? does she think "magnetism" and "magnets" are correlated? what the fuck is this meant to express?

in conclusion:

and also, I know I said would take up a sword and go off to fight whoever EP told me to, based on her backstory, but now I think she owes me like $50 (CAD is fine) for having to read that and parse it with my own eyes and my own brain

remember, throw "cis white gay" in front of anything and it's cool to denigrate whatever comes after

EP, who do you think built the bars? Why do you think they're all gay bars? Maybe it's because of the gay community there... c'mon, I wanna give you the benefit of the doubt, but... you have to work for it

I am now running a tab a la "Cinema Sins":

also, nobody likes a bragger, EP. I like to write, then eat, then sleep too, but you don't see me bragging about it. It's just... Thursday.

also I'm dying to know who this "Madisyn" individual is because I am dying to know what she was writing at the same time EP was banging (no pun intended) this out. I'm crossing my fingers for fanfic because I would be roundly disappointed with something like "tracking genetic diseases in Victorian England"

EP continues to make friends and influence people:

yes that was a bad joke for me to make on a post about the f-slur and yes I do feel bad for her for this entire scenario but I feel I am owed some levity considering that I just had to consider EP "getting hard" on sweatpants

FSlur Man chases EP to a convenience store

it forces EP to remember a similar time she was homophobically attacked

okay, so, let's talk about this

I want to believe EP 100% on all of this because a) I know how shit the world is and b) I exist as a lesbian in it

but "This is why I need a gun"? are we sure? this smacks of "look at my attacker's right wing politics" to me and I feel so badly that it does but I am, as previously stated, a very specific type of asshole (one who is incredibly jaded, apparently)

I have never been to West Hollywood and I have no idea what kind of mentally ill people live there, so obviously my own sense of "is this true or not?" is fallible

either way, gay-bashing and threatening gay and lesbian individuals is wrong and I feel like that should be stated in case someone reads this and thinks I'm doubting her or I'm somehow on the side of the attacker(?). yes, I know how weird that sounds, but the internet's a weird place.

your reviewer is sighing because I just don't know what to say about this anymore

being attacked is awful and wrong and should not happen

why are these things not reported to the police? why did these men's faces not end up on Twitter, with cries to find them and get them fired, as is asked of so many of us when we see racists or similar bad actors in the wild?

yeah yeah, I know, believe women and don't question why they did what they did, but I know in my heart that if something like this happened to me I would be filming. I would call the police.

also the third season of Umbrella Academy sucked and I'm putting that half on the shoulders spoilers of EP for wanting Vanya to transition (which was fucking unnecessary because trans actors go on and on about not always needing to play trans characters and offensive because we finally had a lesbian on a show! who wasn't killed!) and half on the shoulders of the show who not only bought into her transitioning her character with absolutely no evidence leading up to it ever, which is shit writing, but also because all they did was run around and yell each other's names and then kill off a bunch of characters we didn't even know for just... funsies, I guess

anyway it was shit and the fourth season better have some big balls to fix all of it or I am going to roundly and aggressively review it

ah, hell, I'm going to do that anyway

where were we?

ah, yes, the "we live in a society" portion of the evening

I want to say a lot of things here but all of them are bitchy and I'm trying to let that not be me

I feel as though many people do not see trans men as "real" men because they are not male, and the correlation is not between "anger" and "masculinity," it is between "anger" and males

it is not females who commit the vast majority of violent crimes and express anger so openly in our society with such ease, it's males

it has nothing to do with whether or not those men are masculine or feminine

or whether or not those men identify as men or not

there are plenty of trans women who are violent as fuck

and in fact many of them seem to be making it "their thing"

so long story short:

Get fucking angry, EP. Be angry about what's happened to you, because a lot has happened to you to be angry about. Fight the fuck back in whatever way feels best for you to do so.

As someone who also has a lot to be angry about from childhood, my teenage years, and then in my twenties, as I dealt first with bullies and mean girls and aggressive boys and just absolute assholes, as well as the Catholic Church, but then moved onto being treated poorly by the medical establishment as I tried to navigate being chronically ill in a world not built for it at a time that I was not prepared to fight for my life... I have found ways to let the anger out. It still sits in my chest and it builds and it squashes into a tiny origami box behind my sternum.

I let it out when I refuse to let anyone define me.

I let it out when I go to therapy.

I let it out when I decide what I like, what I want to do, where I want to be, who I want to be.

I let it out when I make decisions about what my life will look like in the future.

I let it out when I am joyful. The people who tried to break me and ruin me didn't, and I am still alive to be incredibly happy.

I let it out when I am around other women. When I am around my sisters. We are still here.

Find your sword, EP. You've got a bunch of us behind you.

(Also you owe me approximately $64.80 CAD for this chapter. I take Venmo.)

[pashterlengkap]

Judge busted in secret recordings using racist & homophobic slurs

Veteran Oakland County Probate Judge Kathleen Ryan was relieved of her duties on Thursday after recordings of her saying racist and anti-gay slurs came to light. The recordings were sent to key public officials, including a county executive named Dave Coulter, who is gay. Some of the slurs that Ryan used were about Coulter. Related Judge busted in secret recordings using racist & homophobic slurs She has been relieved of her duties. In a statement to the Detroit Free Press, Coulter said that Ryan’s words were “abhorrent” and said they justified her removal from the county’s probate court “pending further investigation.” Stay connected to your community Connect with the issues and events that impact your community at home and beyond by subscribing to our newsletter. Subscribe to our Newsletter today “There is absolutely no place for harassment of any kind or racist or homophobic language by anyone at Oakland County, especially by someone the public must be confident will act fairly and impartially. I have confidence that the agencies reviewing this matter will treat it with the seriousness it deserves and will take further action if warranted,” Coulter said. According to county officials, Ryan was removed from her docket last week. The tapes, obtained by the Free Press on Thursday, not only capture Ryan’s crude remarks about Coulter but also record her calling the average Black American “a f**king lazy piece of sh*t” and labeling herself as “a new racist.” Ryan also called Coulter and other elected officials “little fa***t.” Dave Woodward, chair of the Oakland County Board of Commissioners, confirmed that he also received copies of the recordings. “I was appalled. There’s simply no justification for it,” Woodward said. He noted that such language “disgraces the judicial position, undermines the integrity of the judiciary, and destroys public trust in our legal system.” Woodward also expressed hope that “if it is indeed the judge making these comments,” an investigation would lead to her permanent removal from the bench. Oakland County Probate Court Administrator Ed Hutton recorded the former judge in secret, he told WXYZ News. Hutton told WXYZ-TV that he had recorded Ryan for the last two years after hearing “her hate and contempt for various protected groups.” Hutton also submitted a notice of sexual harassment involving Ryan in May to Oakland County Probate Court Chief Judge Linda Hallmark but didn’t hear any follow-up about it. Hutton took matters into his own hands, sending the recordings to Coulter, Woodward, and Michigan Supreme Court Chief Justice Elizabeth Clement. Judge Hallmark removed Ryan from her courtroom duties and forwarded information about the recordings to the Michigan Judicial Tenure Commission, the state agency responsible for recommending disciplinary actions against judges. These recommendations can include removal from office, though the final decision rests with the state Supreme Court. Ryan had domestic violence charges against her that were dropped four months later, in November 2021. A police report from the Wixom Police Department detailed that Ryan, after drinking, repeatedly hit a male companion during an argument. Although Ryan was unharmed, she was taken to Ascension Providence Hospital for evaluation. At the hospital, she allegedly shouted obscenities at police officers and hospital staff, attempted to leave custody, and warned them that she was a judge and would be “coming after” them, according to the report. The police later spoke with the victim, who stated that “he wanted to pick up his girlfriend (Ryan) as soon as possible” and added that “aside from her hitting me in the face four or five times, nothing else really happened.” Ryan was instead taken to the Oakland County Jail. The following day, she was charged with misdemeanor domestic violence, granted a personal recognizance bond, and released from jail. The charge was dropped in March 2022. http://dlvr.it/TCw9Y5

[meteorsage]

Things my brain thinks it predicted

In 2019 I committed to a very risky decision

So there I am, 5k miles from home, explaining to someone that if she's not the queen of their block then she's probably in a cult

She says that because I pray I must be in a cult too

I don't remember everything I say, I remeber breaking every point down to explain it thoroughly. She thought it would be funny to have me autistically explain metaphors and I, for reasons that made sense at the time, said "sale y vale"

- iron crown defeats draconian; I thought this would be an astrological event. It was not

- 2 Mayan bros, like the hero story, both in comic book movies from different halves of the world; yall see those Blue Beetle and One Piece live action movies? I'm glad Iñaki got to dub himself

- a rosy idol-of-idols that rises out of a field of grass in the Midwest, and is worshipped by rosy-tinted folks of all shades. Where the Gaga implied, she *is*. She does not have "ironic" enjoyers, only "zealots" and "zero-interests". Karma is her kink, she says so in a song. [The host asked me if that was my favorite song, I said mine was about the pretty pink horses, she references a slur for gay men, I ask if me wearing a pastel star would make things easier for her]

- A movie about a baby deer, effect is people empathetic to men who go though abuse. They still interview the abuser [My host commented that this sounded like a self-pitying fantasy]

- Colbert & Carell reminiscing on the late show when Colbert turns 60 because "60" is when someone is officially Old™️ [The host asked about Carell, I said that they used to a popular skit together on The Daily Show. She insists, Colbert is from The Colbert Report. She is right, so am I]; it happened, adorable 🥹

- A streak of green fire shines in the sky and lights a crown; I thought this was about the idol from before, it wasn't 🍀☄️

- The lit crown will sparkle for a year and a half before twinkling brightly. It's glimmer to catch the eye of the whole world; NASA confirms we're gonna see a supernova out by Corona Borealis between now and Sept 2024

- trump wears a diaper and then trump fans wear em too

- The liberal candidate wins re-election, immediately regrets it [my host wanted details. I didn't know and guessed Biden, "he's old as balls and doesn't want the job, but he's also Obama-Adjacent & that's all the dems had for Clinton in 2016"]

- trump fans federally shit the bed [The host asks why the diapers didn't help. I don't know, "must've been before that" I guess]

- "idiot-kings will rise and a Plauge will grip the world for a week, a fortnight, a year, and then half a decade. Maybe more. Its life grows with humanity's arrogance, colosseum entertainment for kings running out of a crowd to impress" [I left my host a Doctor Who themed shirt, captioned "Stay in the Light" and featured an astronaut skeleton]

- Still no TES 6, Princess Zelda gets her own Zelda game, 50 flavors of overwatch

- return of "Silver Dollars" [I'm hoping for new coins]

- cruelty will become cringe, and "cruel humor" will be seen in the same light as "homophobic humor"

- 5 penny stocks go incredibly high, as a joke, and break the illusion of control the financial oligarchs have curated. It only stops being funny a while after the 5th time [My host empathizes with the oligarchs and their need to control others]

- Revolutions in equatorial countries results in more stable democracy than decades of "Stable Democracy" meddling in local politics

- Jimmy Kimmel is replaced with a holographic emoji operated by an algorithm. It improves the show

[nomorekyriarchy]

Argument tactic: agreeing with someone in the opposite way of what they mean.

This is especially good if their argument hinges on the assumption of a universally held definition or belief that is not true (such as certain groups of people as being homophobic, or that children are being corrupted by queer adults, that protestors are "terrorists", etc).

Here's a Twitter example from an argument with an anti-masker.

In this context Belle Starr was specifically replying to people emphasizing the importance of mask usage in shared spaces and how they benefit disabled people as well as pre-disabled people. In arguments with other people, it was clear that the opinions Belle Starr had were that a mask not being a sterile environment anymore once it has been used somehow is worse than not wearing any barrier.

In this context you might want to assume that someone bringing this up is arguing in good faith and suggesting that perhaps people just 'don't know' about an unverified study.

The arguments that they give are not credible, and they are not made with the assumption of respect in an argument between peers. You do not need to accept their terms to an argument. You do not need to argue minutiae. Consider whether what you are doing will actually change anything, and budget your time and energy accordingly. Even if you believe that these people need someone to convert them to the side of reason, that person does not necessarily need to be you. You also run the risk of platforming them.

If you feel like you need to do something to satisfy a compulsion to do something, you can also report them (for hate speech, incitement, slurs, misinformation, spam if they keep posting the same thing over and over). I know that's not the most effective thing in the world, but I'm more suggesting this because it has helped me with my own OCD compulsions to Do Something. And I don't think it's a complete waste of time either.

[inkblotsandriddles]

So, I’m thinking about Rorschach’s sexuality re: him being touched starved and having an unfulfilled sex drive. His libido is pretty directly addressed in these two panels:

Issue #5, page 18.

It’s Rorschach talking about freeing himself of lust (with fear and weakness right before it, of course) in front of a poster of a provocatively posed woman. Moore and Gibbons aren’t exactly being subtle here. To further emphasise the connection, Veidt describes the ad as follows:

Page 33 of Issue #10. 

He also mentions that the ads for Nostalgia products feature 'slightly androgynous' models and presumes that's to 'afford us a window into the gay marketplace', which could be relevant to Rorschach bearing an interest in men, but I don't lean too heavily into that since this ad is for ladies perfume and specifically targets women, and it feels a little weak of a connection next to things like Rorschach clinging onto Daniel and the cops calling Rorschach a homophobic slur and assuming Rorschach is wearing Daniel’s aftershave instead of cologne. Obviously they aren’t aware of the connection to Daniel, and don’t specify Nostalgia Aftershave, but we’re aware of where he got the bottle from, the brand, and that they’re mistaking it for a perfume that is specified as being more prominently marketed toward gay men (Issue #5, page 28, and the police report mentions it’s cologne in Issue #6, page 29). 

Anyway, I digress!

There’s also the scene where he stares at a naked woman/couple through a window, though it’s not immediately obvious what Moore and Gibbons are trying to convey about Rorschach there without their commentary. The commentary in question shows up in the Watchmen: Annotated Edition, where they indicate he's made despondent by 'warm, loving’ scenes that ‘he could never experience’, and it’s not coincidental that the scene that prompts this thought process is a naked couple embracing.

Watchmen: The Annotated Edition, page 34.

It’s a direct reference to the trauma his mother inflicted on him and how it incapacitates his ability to seek intimacy. We can see the extent of his trauma and repression in scenes like these: 

First panel: Issue #5, page 11. Second and third panels: Issue #6, page 10.

However, he doesn’t seem cognisant of his loneliness and desire for intimacy beyond thinking lust is a nuisance in both himself and others that detracts from more important things. Hence, ‘nobody cares. Nobody cares but me’, because everyone else gives into their vices while he actively fights against them (’frees himself of lust’). 

Issue #10, page 11.  

The handshakes with Daniel are the only kind of intimacy he does get, and he openly clings onto this one. He’s not consciously seeking it here; it’s an effort to apologise, to be a good friend, but the moment he’s given just a slither of the intimacy he’s denied himself for so long, from someone he’s actually willing to receive it from, he has to be forcefully extracted from it. So forcefully that Daniel clearly struggles.  

Gibbons describes the scene this way:

Watchmen Secrets Revealed, watchmencomicmovie.com.

And I think that fits well with Rorschach being so lonely and touch starved that he lapses terribly on how long a handshake is supposed to be, and is also so fixated on the handshake that he completely misses clear signs that Daniel is uncomfortable. You would have to be really, really into something not to notice someone actively struggling to remove themselves. I’ll also note that the primary purpose of the scene being as an embarrassing moment doesn’t mean it can’t also be a comment on Rorschach’s sexuality.

It’s sad to think about how deprived Rorschach spent his entire life because of his mother’s abuse. The contact he had with Daniel was the closest he ever got to fulfilling his physical needs. 

[livlingula]

warning: negative rant post ahead (literally just me ranting my thoughts) 

(if u want to rant in my asks, anon asks are always on and i would love talking through stuff with you) 

first off: the setup. the whole thing to start was messed up, kaceytron brought in a bunch of her friends, her sister, and her chat into a “debate” who were obviously heavily biased towards her and ever towards the start were obviously not going to listen. they had no moderation, let dream get talked over, twisted his words, dictated the flow of conversation, and ignored the actual issues. dream joined to explain stans pov and why they were upset. 

second: the actual problems. they didn’t even THINK to invite poc and lgtbtqa+ (besides her one token friend) people to speak and instead had a bunch of white people....defending a white straight woman. they kept avoiding the root cause of these groups upset, fans didnt do this to cancel her groups did this because they were hurt by her usage of slurs and how she claimed to be advocating for all lgbtqa+ people. they spent the whole time arguing about dream using his private v main (gun violence tw) and if he supports gun violence or not. 

third: dumping trauma on someone. they literally dumped a bunch of trauma, ran, gaslight him into saying random shit, shoved words into his mouth and then went “yeah we barely disagreed about anything” dream has publicly talked about how he’s been in an emotionally abusive relationship and then they go on to just gaslight him into a corner. like i genuinely cannot believe that this 30 year old woman thought, yeah this is a great idea, lets back this 21 year old new cc into talking about his sexuality by trauma dumping. like i genuinely cannot believe i just watched a grow ass woman and her friends basically try and out one of my comfort people on front of 25k people??? and then ignored the fact that her chat was mocking his stutter and asking for people to rephrase things????

fourth: qbaiting. these straight women then proceeded to call dream out for qbaiting. QUEERBAITING IS A MARKETING TACTIC USED FOR FICTION. it is literally used by companies or authors to keep their gay audience interested while not turning off homophobes. dream and george have stated MULTIPLE times that george is straight and have no plans to date. not only did they link dream and george having a naturally flirty friendship to one of their friends getting run over by a tractor in high school, they forced dream to talk about his sexuality. 

(also it’s just very strange that people never call out george for qbaiting and its always dream...when george has openly said he’s straight...something to think about for everyone...) 

DREAM HAS SAID HE DOESN’T WANT HIS SEXUALITY TALKED ABOUT. HE IS UNDISCLOSED AND DOESNT OWE ANYONE ANYTHING. do they not understand how shitty they were to push him into a corner where he could either be accused of qbaiting or telling 25k people live his sexuality. they were all for helping the lgbtqa+ community but then the second someone doesn’t want to disclose they feel forced to. do they even understand how traumatic that can be for someone??

fifth: now that dream has left the call she’s comparing him to trump, making fun of his stuttering, saying he acts different off camera, and is trying to get her fans to mass report his discord. i Am Going to Lose it

tldr: kaceytron apologized for nothing, and she and her friends tried to back dream into a corners about literally every issue under the sun while ignoring all the shit they’re doing, and now are mocking him once he’s left the call. take care of yourselves and my asks are always open

[heathersproship]

There’s a person from my fandom who’s very much an unhinged anti. “Proshippers DNI!!” in their bio and all. First line of defense?

Exactly!! What the fuck indeed!

According to them, it’s always morally correct to tell a transphobe to kill themselves. Like. They really said that with their whole chest. It’s always morally correct to tell someone to kill themselves. ALWAYS.

Lol why are they so pressed?

Listen. Just because someone is shitty, that doesn’t give you the right to be shitty back. If they make you uncomfortable, BLOCK them. Seriously. If they’re threatening you, suicide-baiting you, calling you slurs, report as harassment and BLOCK that shit. Delete that shit. DO NOT ENGAGE WITH THAT SHIT. It’s one thing to post anon hate to show you’re standing high above the bs, it’s another to post it squatting down face-to-face with the level of stink. Not even squatting, they went full-on facefirst rolling in it like a pig in mud, squawking and all.

The best (worst?) part? This person is 18+. This person is an adult. That’s the scary part. If they were a minor under 16, it would still be bad but it’d be a bit more understandable (not necessarily more forgivable), but this person. Is. An. ADULT.

An adult is saying it’s okay, MORALLY CORRECT, ALWAYS MORALLY CORRECT, to TELL ANOTHER PERSON to KILL. THEMSELVES.

People can change (not this one though, apparently). Homophobes sometimes stop being homophobic. Antis sometimes stop being antis (again, not this one). And if they do, if there is a chance they can or will, and they take it, they will not be able to do that if they are dead.

Thank fucking GOD they left the fandom. Thank the Lord they’re not making anything for this fandom anymore. Thank the stars their mid works can be lost and forgotten in the void of the Internet because my god, this fandom doesn’t need that. It doesn’t need that. This fandom is bad enough, it doesn’t need that. This is HEATHERS, where the main couple murders their classmates and write it off as suicides. Where being gay was used as a JOKE and a punchline. WHY WERE YOU EVEN HERE?

I hope this anti consecutively steps on a thousand Legos.

I hope they always have ice cold feet under their warm covers.

I hope they never take the perfect bite of food. May your soups be too hot for the insides of your cheeks and your ice cream too cold for your teeth.

I hope your media players always show the little buffering loading circle every few minutes, even when the gray line is longer than the red one.

I hope your WiFi has that yellow yielding triangle in the corner when you need the Internet most. And your printer refuse to print when you need it most.

But most of all, I hope you never get involved in fandom again. I hope people who know about you see who you are, lose any bit of respect for you they had, and withdraw all support because your takes are the ones that are rancid. You are the toxic one. You are the one doing more harm than any proshipper could ever do.

The funny thing about this is they followed one of my blogs, touched my posts, and I’m pretty sure they sent me an ask once on anon. I recognized their name from some minor drama (also they’re a movie supremist 🙄) and thank god I blocked them when I did. Big yikes my guy. Red flag by the bunch.

[nerdygaymormon]

you know how the community has reclaimed the word queer, how come we haven't done that with the other slurs like dy*e and f*gg*t? shouldn't we take the toxic out of all those words?

I understand what you're saying. If we can de-fang the words most used against us, isn't that worth the effort?

There will always be slurs and people willing to use them. Even words that are reclaimed can sting when someone uses them with venom in their voice.

There's so many slurs used against queer people, it's hard to imagine reclaiming all of them. Some are really rude phrases, not ways most people would want to self-identify.

Here's a little history about the most used derogatory terms used against LGBT people, and how some got reclaimed:

Sodomite - biblical slur

For hundreds, maybe even thousands of years, "sodomite" was THE term hurled at us. A sodomite is a person who engages in sodomy, and sodomy is anal or oral sex (but typically is only used as an insult against couples of the same gender). It is a word shouted by anti-gay crusaders clutching the Bible in their fists, as red-faced they give sermons about why gays are going to Hell and shouldn't be allowed to marry.

Fortunately this word has mostly fallen out of usage except among some hard-core religious homophobes. To try to reclaim this word is to do battle with scripture, better that the term disappear.

Queer - successfully reclaimed

Oscar Wilde toured the United States in the 1880's, becoming a media sensation and widely known. His 1895 trial in England for being a 'sodomite' was extensively reported in the United States. The press reported the insult used in court that he was a "snob queer," and the word stuck. Queer became used to demean feminine men.

Fast forward 100 years and the AIDS crisis. In the 1990's, groups decided to get aggressive in their protests in order to bring attention to the issue. They began chanting "We're here, we're queer, get used to it." It was very aggressive and in your face at a time when most people still used euphemisms when referring to LGBT people.

In the 1990's, from the gay and lesbian studies programs at universities emerged "queer theory" which critiqued heteronormativity and traditional assumptions about sexual and gender identities by heterosexual/cisgender people.

In 2000, "Queer as Folk" launched on Showtime (a cable television channel). The show offered a look at modern, urban gay & lesbian lives. Being on cable, it could be racy, and it addressed health & political issues critical to the LGBT community. The show also had touching moments. It aired for 5 years.

Queer Theory and "Queer as Folk" made the word "queer" more common and it started to be used more and more often by LGBT people to refer to themselves. It helped solve the issue that as we became more aware and inclusive of different identities, the LGBT+ acronym kept expanding and was going to become quite unwieldy.

Queer has gone from an insult to taunt gay men to a term representing all non-heterosexual, non-cisgender identities.

Queen - Werk it, girl. Yassss

Does anyone remember when "queen" was a pejorative? "Queen" was a man who is flamboyant or effeminate. The first known use of "queen" to describe homosexuals was by Dante in the early 14th century. 

"Queen" is the poster child of slur reclamation, no one thinks of the old derogatory meaning anymore.

You probably know the term 'drag queen,' but in reclaiming the word "queen," the gay community used it to describe lots of different sub-groups, like gym queens and leather queens. Most of the old "queen" terms are considered rude today, such as rice queen (a gay man seeking an Asian man), chocolate queen (gay man seeking a black man) and size queen (I'll let you figure out that one).

"Queen" on its own (not paired with drag queen, gym queen, and so on) is the most widely known power term in our community (Yasss Queen!), one that has made the social leap into mainstream pop culture. "Queen" is here to stay

Gay - they tried to make it a slur

This word originally meant jolly or happy. It was chosen by homosexuals to label themselves. The first public known use of "gay" to mean homosexual came in the 1938 film, Bringing Up Baby, when Cary Grant dons a feathery robe and says "I just went gay." 

In the 1990's the phrase "that's so gay" became a popular way of saying something is stupid or uncool. It lasted for 10~15 years before following out of favor. As acceptance of gay people took place, many realized how insensitive it is to use this phrase. Or as I like to think of it, as they became acquainted with gay people, they saw we are the opposite of 'uncool.'

Homo - recent surge in popularity

The words homosexual and homosexuality were coined in Germany and spread to the United States in 1886 with the popularity of the book Psychopathia Sexualis. Homosexual became a diagnosis a doctor or psychologist would make, and because of this the word had a clinical feeling and a somewhat negative connotation as it meant something is not normal.

The word became cemented in antigay lingo with the infamous CBS Reports episode "The Homosexuals," which aired in 1967 and claimed homosexuality was an illness gay men could treat if they tried. The shortened term 'homo' became a common insult.

Today some gays use the word "Homo" with each other to be sort of funny or ironic, we're using this word the homophobes use. Where "queer" has a positive glow since it was reclaimed as part of a social justice movement. "Homo" is sort of a 'screw you' to the homophobes, we'll use it if we want to no matter what you think of the word. While increasingly gays use “homo” to refer to themselves or each other, it's still not acceptable for outsiders to call us that.

Similar to the word "queer," if you were ever called a "homo," you might hate it and not appreciate it being used.

Dyke - widely known lesbian slur

It's thought this term comes from the word bulldyke. Bull as in male cattle and carries the feeling of "masculine" and "aggressive," in other words "bullish." Dyke is thought to be a word for ditch and slang for female genitals. Put them together and you have a term for masculine women. In the 1950's the word 'dyke' began being used as a derogatory term for lesbians, especially if they were perceived as butch or androgynous.

In 1969 with the launch of the modern gay rights movement, attempts to reclaim the word "dyke" (but not "bulldyke") have been made, most famously by the group Dykes on Bikes, who usually have the honor of being at the front of Pride parades as a symbol of LGBT defiance, liberation and empowerment.

The negative usage of the word still exists and most media won't use the word because it's considered impolite and not mainstream, which fits the usage of the word "dyke" by lesbians just fine as it still implies assertiveness and toughness.

Lesbo - Historic but lost its power

Like the word "lesbian," "lesbo" comes from the Ancient Greek poet Sappho, who lived on the island of Lesbos and wrote poems about love & women. She has been mythologized into the the most famous lesbian in history.

"Lesbo" was an offensive way to refer to a lesbian, but "lesbo" has lost most of its sting. It’s not heard much anymore and sounds immature, like a childish put down. I suspect most lesbians would just roll their eyes or maybe even laugh if someone tried to use this as a slur.

Tranny - Vulgar & offensive

"Tranny" is a derogatory term for a trans person. It was a rude way to shorten the word transvestite, which means dressing in a manner traditionally associated with the opposite sex. This slur was commonly used by police in the 20th century to demean people as they arrested them for "impersonation" because they dressed not as the gender on their ID. 

During the early 2010s an attempt to reappropriate the word was made by trans activists, but it didn't take. We’re in an epidemic of anti-trans violence and this word continues to be a term of abuse, most didn’t feel it’s time to reclaim a word that continues to be used aggressively against them.

Faggot - most offensive slur

"Faggot" is essentially the equivalent to the most offensive racial slurs.

The word faggot originally meant "a bundle of sticks for burning." In England in the 1500's & 1600's, many people were burned at the stake, primarily women (men facing execution in England were usually hung and quartered).

The origin of using faggot to refer to gay men is that when sodomites were killed, they weren't seen as worthy of being tied to the stake, instead they were bound and put with the wood. Calling a gay man a faggot was a threat that they were destined to be burned among the bundled sticks. The slur Flamer comes from this idea that gay men should burn.

It can be shocking to American ears, but in the United Kingdom cigarettes are still called a fag because they're a burning stick. In the Book of Mormon, Abinidi is burned at the stake, or as the text says, "scourged with faggots."

In the United States, the first use of the word "faggot" for a gay man was in 1914, and the shortened form "fag" appeared in 1921. There is a long history of using both "fag" and "faggot" in popular culture, usually in reference to gay and bisexual men, as well as transgender people. It's a sign of progress that now using this term will cause reputations to be smeared and public apologies demanded, similar to when racial slurs are spoken.

It's unlikely the community will ever want to fully 'reclaim' this term as the imagery of how it came to be used against us is so violent.

————————————————————

Yes, I know some trans people will use “tranny” with each other, I have heard “fag” used like that among gays. It's different when the group that a word was used against uses it playfully or affectionately with each other. I’m fine with that. But because the usage is very limited and not widespread within the community, I don’t want to indicate "this is reclaimed," because mostly it's not, and use it in wrong the setting or with the wrong person and you can get a lot of trouble.

[bookofmirth]

I saw your recent response to an anon where you mentioned the drama that occurred the other day based around bookprofessor’s post. Obviously you don’t have to respond to this or publish it if you do not wish but I just wanted to bring up that while it is important to focus on the real life issues at hand, the OP was hypocritical in her post which is why people were getting upset. She was preaching against ableism while simultaneously flaunting her IQ and degree which is a form of ableism. She was speaking out against racism while ending her post using the racial slur “cracker” when talking about the possibly Caucasian Twitter elriels.

Obviously she had some important points but it was completely overshadowed by her participation in the hate speech and prejudice that she was speaking out against.

This does not in any way justify the nasty messages she received but on the same hand, I do not blame anyone that called her out for her hypocrisy. I hope you can understand why her post was so negatively received and how flawed it was. My hope is that one day everyone can just ignore the negativity, report those who are being racist/prejudiced in any way, and block those who are just being loud and who you don’t wish to see content from. But unfortunately I do not see that happening any time soon.

There are a few things I want to address in this because I think it's a good moment for the fandom to step back and reflect on how we treat one another, how we react to such issues, and how we behave moving forward.

First off, thanks for explaining your point of view without being antagonistic. I do think that everyone's emotional reactions to the post were valid. I do NOT think their responses, in terms of words and actions, were valid. Now before I move forward, I want to clarify that when I use the word "you", I am referring to anyone who may have had the response I am describing - not you personally, anon. Also please don’t freak out about how long this is, as a majority of it is a response to the fandom in general, not you in particular.

What was - and wasn’t - said in the original post

In this post, there were completely valid criticisms of the way that people in this fandom behave, and it wasn’t “generalizing” a certain group, it was literal, actual proof of things that had been said, by multiple people. I’m not going to get too into what Alyssa argued because her critiques of those tweets was flawless. The original post had very valid criticisms of what was happening on Twitter. Alyssa exposed the actually racist, homophobic, and imperialistic underpinnings of those tweets.

However, a lot of people are stuck on the bits before and after those critiques. @bookprofessor apologized for different aspects of her post in a few different asks. There were perhaps better ways that some of those things could have been phrased, some things that could have been left out. And she apologized. People can accept that apology or not but we can’t act like it didn’t happen. Like she didn’t reflect and learn to do better.

However, the people she was calling out have not done the same thing, and if anything, comments that focus more on Alyssa’s tone than why she wrote the post in the first place lets those people off the hook.

On cracker - Using the word "cracker" is not racist in the same way that using racial slurs against POC is. Is it prejudiced? Yes. But you cannot say that it is the same thing when that is demonstrably untrue, given centuries of oppressive history. No one has been oppressed for being white. Those are not the same. Reverse racism is not a thing because a white person punching down on POC is NOT AT ALL the same thing as a POC punching up at white people. The actions look the same, but the impact is so unequal it’s not even funny.

Racism is a systemic, institutionalized problem. It is not defined by individual actions, though those actions can either support or challenge racism. When someone calls a white person a cracker, there isn’t centuries of oppression giving power to and reinforcing that statement. That is not a “gotcha” moment.

Saying “I have x IQ” or “I have X degrees” is not ableist. I’m sorry to whoever told you it was ableist (again, not you specifically anon but people who had read the “aw shucks guys” vagueblogs about it), but it’s not. Those are facts. I have no idea what my IQ is, but I have five degrees from institutions of higher education. Me saying that is in no way ableist. 

Often, people mention those things to be elitist, yes. Sometimes, they can be used to say “hey I know more about this than you”. They can be used in a way that tries to make themselves feel superior. I suspect that this is the impression that a lot of people got of the post. However, there is a fine line between saying “hey that’s elitist” and professing anti intellectualism. Which is perhaps a side issue so I’ll let that go for now.

Another reason that people mention their degrees or qualifications is to establish their background knowledge and credibility. If I were to say “hey y’all I have two MA degrees” (which is true) I am not being ableist! It is a fact! It is factual! And I worked my ass off for those, I will be in student loan debt until I die for those, I have every right to mention them if I want to, and often I do so in order to establish my credibility, to explain the position I am coming from. And my prior knowledge of these topics is relevant when we are talking about literature since that’s what my degrees were on - literature and linguistics. That is why Alyssa mentioned her background, though she did pair it with comments about other people, for which she has apologized.

My final point about this is that I 1000% understand feeling insecure or less than because of educational attainment. I dropped out of high school. I had a complex about that for a long, long time. But I also know that if I took offense at someone else saying they had a PhD, then that offense is about me, not them. Someone else’s inferiority complex is not reason for people to pretend to be less than they are.

If those two comments are what overshadowed the bigger, more important issue for a lot of the readers of that post, then y’all allowed them to overshadow those more important issues. I am 99% sure that someone right now is reading this and thinking “but Leslie, it was the way that she said it!” Boy have I got some news for you!

How we react

This next section is not specific to this ask; instead, it is a discussion of how the fandom responded. If it were only one person who had said “but her tone” then I wouldn’t need to make this point. The fact that multiple people are exhibiting the behavior explained below is what makes this a cultural problem within the acotar fandom.

The main argument I saw on the post itself, and indeed any time I see people bring up how nasty Twitter can be, is that “it was a joke” and “that’s how stan Twitter works”.

No.

Those responses were quite useful for this post, though! So buckle up everyone, because I am going to talk about gaslighting, racism, respectability politics, and tone policing. While I understand that some people might have taken personal offense to what was said, there is a much bigger issue at stake that has nothing to do with individual feelings, and everything to do with ensuring that POC stay silenced and white supremacy is upheld. 

Back to the “but it’s a joke” thing. Thanks for gaslighting! Great example of that, person I’m not going to tag! Gaslighting is when you make someone question their experiences, when you try to make them think “wait, did I really feel that way? Is my feeling about that valid? Do I need to re-evaluate my response to this?? Am I blowing this out of proportion???” And saying “it’s just a joke” is a perfect way to do that. Did I say something accidentally sexist? It’s just a joke, nbd! Now you’re the problem, because you didn’t understand my joke and laugh!!! 

Saying “it’s a joke” or “oh they are old/young/ignorant, they will learn” is not a good response to... anything. It takes the responsibility off the people who are doing the harm, and putting it onto the people who were hurt. And in this case, anyone who read those tweets and found them harmful (which should be everyone?) is completely valid. You aren’t lesser for being angry or emotional or for seeing a problem where other people saw a joke. The people who see those things as acceptable jokes are the ones in the wrong.

This is a tactic that is used against women all the time. Any time a woman is sexually harassed at work or online, for example, and she gets upset about it, and someone chimes in with “oh they weren’t serious, can’t you take a joke?” So you can imagine what this is like for women of color.

It is a very, very common tactic for people of color to be silenced via tone policing and respectability politics. Tone policing and respectability politics are very closely related, especially in this context. The idea is that if Alyssa had just written that post in just the right way, it would have been more palatable to white people, and therefore okay to write. The idea that if she had tried to be “understanding” or “see it from their perspective” or understand that it’s “just a joke” are all ways to silence and de-legitimize any accurate, valid criticisms that were made of those tweets. It effectively re-routes the conversation away from the real issues, and to the person trying to bring them up. It’s essentially an ad hominem attack in disguise. 

We see respectability politics in media when people of color who act or dress or speak like white people are afforded more respect. Or any time that a person of color is pulled over and people say, “well if they had just done what the police officer asked...” There is a pervasive idea that if people just “act” properly, aka if you act white, then the police won’t feel antagonized and try to kill arrest you. If we are nice enough, meek enough, smile enough, etc. then we will be accepted.

When we tone police, we refuse to allow marginalized people the right to be angry. We say that "hey, we can only have this discussion if you leave emotion, which you rightfully feel, at the door, and we can only continue this discussion if you behave in a way that makes me feel comfortable." But guess what? It isn’t about you! These discussions are often highly uncomfortable. There is no nice way to tell someone they are being racist. And yet somehow, that is the ever-moving goalpost. It seems reasonable, right? “Just be civil, be nice, don’t insult each other!” And there is that. But those criteria change constantly, to the point where anyone (white) at any time can say “WHOA WHOA THIS IS MAKE ME UNCOMFORTABLE???” Then we find ourselves at zero, and suddenly the focus of attention has shifted away from the actual problem.

Before we go further, I want to say this: people have a right to be angry. They do not need to make their anger palatable or tasteful for the consumption of others (read: white people). 

We saw this last summer, and I’m not sure how the message didn’t get across. But people are rightfully angry about racism. They are angry about the murder of people of color by police, they are angry about lack of quality education, or clean water, of centuries of oppression that have led to this very moment when all of that ceases to matter because a white woman’s feelings got hurt one time. 

And that is what pisses me off so much. There is no way in this world that we could criticize tweets like those that everyone would agree with, and that everyone would “approve” of, that would be “nice” enough and yet still be impactful and make the authors of those tweets understand the gravity of what they have done. 

The least we can do is allow one another to express our anger, our outrage, because it’s highly likely that those people know exactly what the fuck they are doing, and they do not fucking care. By criticizing a woman of color for the way in which she chose to engage with this topic, we are avoiding the issue and letting the people in those tweets off the hook. 

There were many responses to that post that were positive, that agreed with Alyssa. There are a ton of people who disagree with those tweets, who find them disgusting, who understand exactly how and why they are problematic. That should be what we are talking about. Getting to the core of the argument, on that post or any about racism or other problematic behavior in fandom, requires getting past our own egos. It requires us to be able to step back, say “hm this thing is frustrating but there is a bigger picture here”. It’s not easy, and I recognize that. 

The fact that it is a common tactic though? To say “hey this hurt me personally and so I’m going to ignore any valid points you made?” That feeds directly into centuries of white supremacy because it, once again, silences POC and makes them try to play a losing game. And they will always lose, because no matter how hard they try to play the white game, the goalposts are constantly shifting. So you know what? Fuck the game, and fuck respectability politics, and fuck tone policing and “uwu be nice guys” because when it comes to things like racism and sexism, I don’t expect the people who deserve to be criticized to be nice. In fact, trying to be nice only serves to fuck POC over in the end.

Indeed, in response to that post, certain blogs have taken the opportunity to position themselves as “the nice ones” or “the ones who would never” or “uwu let’s be nice guys” while completely ignoring the fact that a woman of color was attacked for calling out racism. And yes - that was the point of her post. People getting hung up on mentions of her degree are (intentionally or not, it doesn’t matter) completely obfuscating the fact that that is not what her post was about, which was to call out disgusting behavior. idk how many words the post actually was, but essentially, people are focusing on 5% of it to the detriment of the 95% that was actually really important shit. These types of vagueblog posts about the issue fall into exactly what I am talking about - these are people who have decided to look at this issue, see how Alyssa (and anyone else who dares speak up) has approached it, and intentionally try to act like they are “better” because they can be “rational” and “kind”. Newsflash, if you don’t have something to be angry about, then being “nice” about racism isn’t that much of a flex. If it didn’t bother you, then congratulations. That doesn’t make you better than people it did bother. You just got lucky this time, and decided to use that to your advantage to look like the good guy.

I am not saying that all calls for peace are doing this. Obviously it’s what we all want. This is the worst I have seen this fandom in the 4+ years I’ve been here. But we cannot have that by ignoring the real problems and pretending that if we are all just nice to each other, then we will solve racism and sexism and all bullying in the fandom will stop. 

So combining all of this - the gaslighting, the tone policing, and what do you get? You get a fandom that refuses to actually engage critically with its own problems and take accountability for them. You get a fandom that decides that it’s easier to be distracted by this one mean comment over here than it is to engage in the fact that you know what, the culture in this fandom has actually turned incredibly disgusting and a lot of people are just okay with it. You’ve got a fandom that is using the tools of white supremacy to avoid the discussions that should actually be taking place. Maybe people don’t realize that that’s what they are doing. But if someone still thinks that after reading this post, then godspeed my friend, I hope you enjoy Twitter.

Okay so my last thing I want to say is that I didn’t come to all of this knowledge fresh from the womb. I do a lot of work, in my personal life and my professional life, to be better. So here is a list of books that I have found particularly helpful:

How to Be An Antiracist by Ibram X. Kendi

Stamped From the Beginning: The Definitive History of Racist Ideas in America also by Ibram X. Kendi

White Fragility: Why It’s So Hard for White People to Talk About Racism by Robin DiAngelo (side note, I was kinda meh about this one but the chapter “White Women’s Tears” is particularly helpful)

So You Want to Talk About Race by Ijeoma Oluo

Black Feminist Thought: Knowledge, Consciousness, and the Politics of Empowerment by Patricia Hill Collins

I’m not going to talk specifically about Alyssa’s post anymore, but if anyone wants to continue talking about these broader issues going on in the fandom, I am game. (I really should be grading papers though, so it might take a bit.)

[butterflyinthewell]

Fandom antis want every proshipper to be Marion Zimmer Bradley and it shows.

She wrote The Mists of Avalon, which has every cliche fandom antis HATE with all their pathetic little souls.

She also aided and abetted a child molester and abused her kids.

Yeah. Fandom antis think all proshippers are like that.

Fandom antis want proshippers to harm kids so they can feel justified in abusing them. 👈🏻 Read that again. And again.

Proship literally means “I won’t harass someone for creating content I find upsetting, gross, triggering or immoral. I’m not going to assume their real world morals based on fiction they engage in or create. I look at real life actions to judge that.”

There are proshippers who don’t like adult/minor ships. (I don’t pay super close attention to character ages and have been known to make them up! Btw I’m SessKag trash. Most of my ships are all adults and some have huge age gaps. *cough* Whouffaldi, Optimus/Mikaela…😋)

There are proshippers who don’t like incest ships. (Hello, I’m one!)

There are proshippers who don’t like ships with unhealthy relationships. (I write Optimus and Mikaela as pretty healthy, but one of my WIPs is Hannigram and it’s kinda problematic!)

There are proshippers who make nothing but wholesome safe for work content. (I have sfw content, but a lot is nsfw.)

Guess what else I don’t like? Lolisho! It weirds me out, but my “weirded out” reaction is nothing like the rage, dread and disgust I felt when I had to report actual CSEM. My rage goes through the roof when people harm real kids. I will never see lolisho as on the same level as CSEM, ever.

Being proship isn’t about what you ship, it’s your behavior towards and around shipping.

I don’t care how shitty someone treats fictional characters in fanwork. I can scroll away and not click it. I care how real people treat other real people and fandom antis hurt real people over fictional characters.

Fandom antis think they’re so slick with their “I’m anti-what?” bullshit when nothing they do is protecting real kids from real abusers.

They claim there’s a difference between engaging dark media and glorifying it, yet they treat any depiction as glorifying. Then they’ll go watch a media that’s as problematic as some fanworks and be fine with it. There are fandom antis who watch nbc Hannibal and throw homophobic slurs at Bryan Fuller, the gay show runner, because he agrees that fiction isn’t the same as reality and doesn’t have to follow the same rules as reality.

They think seeing it will make someone think it’s okay when it’s usually a predator grooming someone into believing it’s okay…and the blame is always on the predator.

They claim the media can be used to groom. But anything can be used to groom.

Kids need to stay out of adult spaces and learn to blacklist and mute tags. I can write something gross and tag it to shit and back, but that’s useless if people ignore the tags, click anyway and spread it to audiences it isn’t meant for.

Fandom antis abuse real people over fictional content they can choose to avoid. They’re some of the nastiest bullies I’ve encountered anywhere. Their disingenuous behavior disgusts me so much. They’re little wannabe fascists who drank TERF juice and now they think they’re warriors out to protect people from something that most wouldn’t see if it wasn’t shoved in their face by fandom antis.

And guess who gets hurt the most by fandom antis?

Marginalized creators.

Oh, fandom antis will claim they’re part of that minority as if that absolves them of harm, but it doesn’t and never will.

They’re bullies and abuse apologists. There is nothing good about them.

I hate every single fandom anti. There is no excuse for their behavior and when I see them I block on sight.

If fiction affected reality as much as fandom antis claim, society would be completely unlivable.

Are there problems with how things are portrayed that need addressing? Yes, absolutely! Things like poor disability rep, poor queer rep, the sexualization of children in Hollywood, etc, that needs addressing.

Screaming at someone because their Inucest fanfic or their BakuDeku doujinshi grossed you out isn’t going to address the issue at all.

Web 2.0 was a mistake.

[foodbytesback]

The Rise and Fall of Bon Appetit

Sometimes life comes at you fast.  Sometimes, that means stories in the food industry break in such rapid succession that you have no time to blink in between.  Sometimes, it means someone found out about something racist you did a few years ago.  What happens when it’s both?  Ask the fine folks at Bon Appetit.

In recent years, Bon Appetit made a name for itself, rising from the ashes of dying print media, through its Youtube channel featuring a diverse cast of personalities.  But over the course of this past week, many of the publication’s executives have been found to foster a toxic workplace culture, rife with racism, sexism and homophobia.  

Before I get too deep (because this is going to be a long one), I feel the need to point out that while this story’s breaking happened to coincide with Black Lives Matter protests across the country and gained traction from people’s outrage towards inequality, the events that have unfolded should not be blamed on “cancel culture,” “political correctness run amok” or any other reactionary dismissal of critical thinking.  Adam Rapoport didn’t lose his job because Black Lives Matter, Black Lives Matter came to be because of the damage that many in positions of power like Rapoport have done in both mainstream media and society as a whole.

[Also, yes, there are going to be a lot of links to Instagram posts that have been screenshotted and uploaded to Twitter.  Clearly the real takeaway from this debacle is that I need to get an Instagram account.  Also also, thanks to Tumblr’s new rules about offsite links, you’ll have to go to my main site for the full receipts.]

Preamble

Shortly after the killing of George Floyd, Adam Rapoport, Editor-in-Chief at Bon Appetit, wrote an editorial highlighting some of the coverage they’ve given to black chefs.  Many criticized this as being superficial and performative, with others saying that BA has, on numerous occasions, shut down articles relating to black culture for not being “trendy” enough or otherwise was discriminatory towards black employees. (Also, the repeated use of “uprisings” instead of “protests” seems a little suspicious.)

An article from Eater criticized the role BA played in the appropriating and whitewashing of many cultures’ ingredients and cuisines (gochujang, Aleppo pepper, and sumac seem to be some of BA’s favorite ingredients) that had become prevalent in food media in recent years.

While it’s a fairly minor offense in comparison, it may also be worth bringing up the time Rapoport accidentally called Priya Krishna “Sohla,” the name of his other Indian employee.

Monday, June 8th

Food writer Tammie Teclemariam posted a screencap of an Instagram post made by Rapoport’s wife, which depicted the two of them donning Puerto Rican stereotypes as Halloween costumes, brownface and all.    

Many were quick to declare their outrage and demand that Rapoport either resign or be fired.  Meanwhile, Sohla El-Waylly, one of the leading stars of the Youtube channel, was one of the first BA employees to speak up, and disclosed that this kind of behavior was just the tip of the iceberg.  She said that BIPOC workers have been paid disproportionately for their work, including not being paid a per-video commission that the white stars of the Youtube channel receive. 

Molly Baz, one of the aforementioned white stars, announced that she would no longer make videos for BA until all of El-Waylly’s demands were met.  One by one, their white coworkers chimed in in agreement.  

Former staff photographer Alex Lau also wrote an extensive tweet thread about his experiences at BA, including how he had futilely tried to fix the system from within.

By the end of Monday, Adam Rapoport had resigned from his position as Editor-in-Chief.

Tuesday, June 9th  

Since Rapoport’s official resignation did little to fix many of the systemic problems in place at BA, many began to turn their attention to other senior members of the staff.

Some came for Andrew Knowlton, the Restaurant Editor, for behaviors such as gaslighting an employee for trying to bring up racist practices in the offices.

Others called out Matthew Duckor, a VP at Conde Nast and BA’s former “Head of Video” (Did a 3 year old come up with that job title?), for a series of old racist and homophobic tweets.  He tried to apologize by saying that he was young and didn’t know any better at the time, but many were quick to point out that he was, at the youngest, 20, aka for all intents and purposes An Adult when he wrote those tweets. 

Tammie Teclemariam returned to ask current and former BA employees to DM her information about Duckor that they didn’t want to go public with themselves, ranging from his hand in the aforementioned pay disparity to making inappropriate comments towards women.

Teclemariam also did even more social media muckraking and found that Drinks Editor Alex Delany had once decorated a cake to look like a Confederate flag, while others found things like a Vine where he says the f-slur and some questionable comments about women on this Tumblr.  He later deleted his Tumblr and Twitter, and issued a cookie-cutter apology on his Instagram.

She also vague-tweeted that Brad Leone, one of the most beloved stars of the Youtube channel, is “possibly not a great guy,” but later added, “don’t fret.” At that point, some began to accuse her of just trying to stir the pot.

Ultimately, Matt Hunziker, director and camera operator for Leone’s show, reported that the higher ups were ignoring the situation regarding the pay disparity, and that they were not “learning and growing.”

Wednesday, June 10th

By this point, journalists were able to do more thorough investigations and put together exposés that were more than a blurb about an accusation followed by a nut graph.

Business Insider published an article where they interviewed 14 current and former BIPOC employees of Bon Appetit.  In addition to information already discussed above, it also described events such as an incident where several BIPOC staffers were told they weren’t allowed the test kitchen. (Carla Lalli Music, the Food Director at the time, would later defend her stance in the affair on Twitter.)  Ryan Walker-Hartshorn, a black woman who served as Rapoport’s personal assistant, recalled that she would often spend her day doing menial tasks like polishing her boss’s golf clubs or trying to teach his wife how to use Google Calendar.  In another incident, Knolton called Rick Martinez a “one trick pony” for only developing Mexican recipes, which is what he was being forced to do so BA could tout “diversity” bonus points.  Martinez would also say that the magazine under Rapoport’s tenure “went from old and irrelevant and white-washed content to young and trendy white-washed content." (Martinez would also upload a more graphic description of the treatment he received  to his Instagram that same day.) Later that day, Business Insider would also report that Duckor had left the company.

Vice would liken Rapoport to Michael Scott from The Office, but noted that that kind of bumbling, endearingly insensitive bad boss archetype isn’t as charming in the real world where real employees are being affected.  Parallels were also drawn between the Youtube channel and The Office itself, stating that the “quirky workplace” facade put on in the videos helped hide the more sinister practices that lurked beneath the surface, and that the notion that they were “one big family” often pressured BIPOC into doing more than their fair share for the greater good.

Jezebel showed email transcripts where Rapoport argued the semantics of having his costume be called “brownface” when he wasn’t wearing makeup, and had to be explained to, like a child, that the term refers to the racist caricature and not the literal act of putting brown makeup on one’s face.  What a douche.

Bon Appetit published an official apology on their site, a whole two days after the controversy began.  Many believed that their empty promises of “learning from their mistakes” were a day late and a dollar short.

Meanwhile, on Twitter, former BA writer Alyse Whitney said that senior editor Andy Baraghani had, on several occasions, used his influence to undermine her efforts. Whether this had to do with racism, sexism, or just Andy being petty is up for debate, but still constitutes as unprofessional behavior to say the least.

Thursday, June 11th

As interest in the story seemed to wane for many in the industry, Claire Saffitz, arguably the face of the Youtube channel, released another statement on her Instagram.  She said that her relative silence was due to taking time to find the right words, and that the same-old promises to “learn and grow” that most had been giving felt empty and performative. Unlike many of her white coworkers, she directly apologized for being complicit in the toxic environment  and for not using her status to try to leverage even pay for her BIPOC coworkers.  

Another BA Youtube personality, Amiel Stanek, also released a statement in response to BA’s official press release, where he demanded Conde Nast to stop avoiding action by setting vague timelines for changes or making excuses for not giving BIPOC workers raises like “the money just isn’t there.”

Associate editor Christina Chaey also opened up about her experiences with being pushed into more and more videos to “diversify” them- all without compensation.  

Friday, June 12th

The biggest scandal of the day was that, as Teclemariam predicted, Brad Leone is possibly not a great guy.  A leaked screenshot of an Instagram DM showed him making callous, almost Trump-y comments regarding El-Waylly’s demand for better pay.  He also allegedly said that if Delany were to be fired (as of that day he had been sent on leave), he would quit.

Saturday, June 13th

The New York Times published an article suggesting that the issues prevalent in BA’s management may go all the way to the top of Conde Nast.  Highlights include Chief Executive Roger Lynch chastising the whistleblowers within the company for raising their concerns in such a public manner and an account of an incident where he gave his black assistant a guidebook on how to speak “proper” English.

The Sporkful released a special episode of their podcast containing interviews with several current and former BA BIPOC workers.  Nikita Richardson divulged that after she was laid off, a story she had already done all the leg work for was picked up and credited to Amanda Shapiro, a white staff writer who is now acting Editor-in-Chief in lieu of Rapoport.  Sohla El-Waylly confirmed that the self-congratulatory editorial Rapoport wrote in the wake of George Floyd’s death was the real beginning of the end, and that the racist photo was just the final straw.  She also described a company-wide Zoom meeting held after the photo began to be spread around where Rapoport issued a half-hearted apology, and began talking about how he would “fix the brand” before El-Waylly demanded he resigned.  Furthermore, she revealed that after her Instagram posts began circulating rapidly, Duckor had offered her a new contract with increased pay, but she is refusing to sign it until all BIPOC have received similar compensation.  She also said that she had a hand in the wishy-washy statement that BA had published on Wednesday, and said that it originally had taken much firmer stances on the issues but their PR office made them tone it down.  Also, she commented that Leone, for the most part, just seemed like she “genuinely think[s] [that he] just found out racism is real.”  Ultimately, she was glad that the story was getting as much coverage as it was, since it made her feel that her voice was finally being heard.

Sunday, June 14th

Baraghani released a statement on Instagram apologizing for his behavior, saying that trying to achieve his personal goals in BA’s toxic, competitive environment made him lose sight of solidarity with his fellow BIPOC.  

While that may seem like the end of the story for now, it’s important to note that, even with the resignation of two executives, nothing has truly been done to fix the systemic problems at hand.

[f1]

Lewis Hamilton condemns reports of sexist and racist harassment of F1 fans

Lewis Hamilton has condemned the harassment of supporters at this weekend’s Austrian Grand Prix, adding that he was “disgusted and disappointed to hear that some fans are facing racist, homophobic and generally abusive behaviour at the circuit.” Reacting to the abuse, which also included sexist catcalling, homophobic abuse and inappropriate touching of female fans, F1 branded the behaviour “unacceptable” and has entered discussions with the race promoter to address the issues. “Attending the Austrian Grand Prix or any GP should never be a source of anxiety and pain for fans and something must be done to ensure that races are safe spaces for all,” said Hamilton in a post on Instagram. “Please, if you see this happening, report it to circuit security and to F1, we cannot sit back and allow this to continue.” The race promoters said they were intensifying their messages across the circuit calling for respect to be shown amongst fans and also urged any incidents to be reported to security personnel. Early on Sunday morning an increasing number of reports were made, citing aggressive misogyny towards female fans, with some saying they felt scared by the atmosphere. Others referred to homophobic slurs and the use of the N-word. Many of the reports referenced the stands where Max Verstappen fans were gathered en masse. With calls for the race organisers to act, particularly in providing a safe place for anyone who felt threatened, F1 issued a statement. “We have been made aware of reports that some fans have been subject to completely unacceptable comments by others at the event,” it read. “We have raised this with the promoter and security and will be speaking to those who have reported these incidents and are taking this very seriously. This kind of behaviour is unacceptable and will not be tolerated and all fans should be treated with respect.” The Red Bull Ring in Spielberg, Austria Photograph: Florion Goga/Reuters Sixty thousand Dutch fans are attending the race as part of a sell-out crowd of 105,000. The behaviour of some of them has already come under the spotlight this weekend. On Friday, when Lewis Hamilton had a major crash at 140mph, they were widely condemned for cheering the accident before it was clear Hamilton was injured or not. They similarly cheered when Hamilton’s teammate George Russell crashed out shortly afterwards. On Saturday Hamilton was unequivocal in his castigation of their behaviour. “I don’t agree with any of that, no matter what,” he said. “A driver could have been in hospital, and you are going to cheer that? It is mind-blowing that people would do that, knowing how dangerous our sport is. I was grateful I didn’t end up in hospital and I wasn’t heavily injured. You should never cheer someone’s downfall or someone’s injury.” Verstappen, took pole position on Friday, won Saturday’s sprint race and will start from the front row of the grid in Sunday’s race. Having been booed at Silverstone, Verstappen had told the Guardian in an interview on Saturday he expected better from all supporters. “Those people are not really F1 fans,” he said. “They cannot really enjoy what is actually happening right now, a lot of great drivers actually fighting against each other. But they cannot appreciate that and that’s a bit of a shame. How many times do you get to experience stuff like that? Such an intense rivalry or fights. These people are not lovers of the sport.” via Formula One | The Guardian https://www.theguardian.com/sport/formulaone