#comes to what they consider to be an autonomy violation

[saving-people-haunting-things]

Is it bad that I just really don't care about the "bodily autonomy" discourse?

[drdemonprince]

have you defined the meaning of “white woman brain” anywhere and if not, can you? /gen

Many Black and brown feminist writers have discussed this phenomenon and I encourage you to seek out a lot of writing about this subject, because there are a variety of perspectives, but to distill it, white woman fragility brain is a phenomenon that is not exclusive to either white people or to women, but is especially common among those who can weaponize white womanhood, and it consists of the following qualities:

A view of oneself as a helpless victim that is constantly in threat of being attacked, especially by strangers (even though statistically, this is not the case).

A refusal to consider oneself as capable of doing harm to others, especially a lack of consideration toward others' body autonomy or consent. (even while being highly concerned about one's own autonomy and consent).

A generally passive or passive-aggressive orientation toward the world: seeing oneself as a romantic or sexual object to be approached, but never wanting to initiate (or feeling that one never can), never feeling comfortable directly communicating displeasure or one's desires, believing that others instead must guess at it. (and then resenting people when they don't, but never expressing it).

A tendency to cry, excessively berate oneself, complain about being made to feel "unsafe," or give up when criticized or challenged, especially when challenged by people of color.

A tendency to associate a person's body type with how much of a threat they are. For example, feeling unsafe around people with penises and expecting a social space to accommodate that fear to cater to you, a fear of people who come from cultures where it's common to speak loudly, a fear of those who are large, assertive, and/or darker-skinned.

Instinctive fawning-type responses to stress, and a pattern of feigning happiness, agreeability, and ease when one is not genuinely feeling it, and expecting all other people (but especially other women) to feign happiness as well, paired with a deep-seated resentment of anyone who violates this illusion and expresses any negativity (being especially punitive toward women of color).

Instinctively "smoothing over" conflict between other people before it even begins, even when healthy conflict is necessary and not at all your business-- often performed by gossiping behind other people's backs, triangulating information when it is not yours to share, asking people to alter their behavior in order to avoid a reaction from somebody else, presenting your concerns as if they were somebody else's ("what will people think!"), tone-policing the airing of grievances, derailing hard conversations with more light-hearted topics, and excluding people who are known to be candid and assertive.

Here are some articles on elements of the phenomenon and why it is so dangerous:

Now, I single white cis women out a lot when I am describing this phenomenon, because they have the most to gain from exhibiting these qualities, but make no mistake: this is a pattern that many types of people can and do use. I have seen white trans women use white women's tears to silence critique. I have witnessed women of color being passive-aggressively derailed and silenced by a Black manager who was in a position of institutional power over them. Multiple of the women who sexually harassed me in the story linked above were not white. And LORD knows I see plenty of t boys falling back on this shit, as well as cis men from wealthy backgrounds. It's a mindset that has deep colonial roots and we all must be on the look out for it in ourselves and others, and we must be vigilant in uprooting it.

[violetbeauregut]

In Defense of Feedism

I was absolutely struck when I read  @fatliberation‘s beautiful, vulnerable post the other day. They always have brilliant ideas and they show unfailing grace and kindness to everyone, despite a ton of rude, ill-informed backlash (I would 100% recommend following them). 

I can’t stop thinking about the reactions to that post and how incredibly strange it is to have to tiptoe around feedism (to use an umbrella term) in a movement that is supposed to be centered around ending the oppression of fat people. 

I can understand why fat people who are not feedists would be weary or even repulsed by this kink. From the outside it may seem degrading and manipulative that the language and insults used against fat people are replicated in the bedroom. It is also harmful to be fetishized when you do not want to be fetishized, both in real life and online. 

But these are the only points I’ve heard against feedism that I consider to be a legitimate argument in the discourse of fat liberation, as these are the only claims against feedism I’ve come across that are not based in fatphobia. If you are in favor of fat liberation, then you must see fatness as morally neutral. Therefore, the choice to gain weight is not inherently “good” or “bad,” it is instead a matter of autonomy– a right that should be granted to everyone, regardless of size. 

The major issue with feedism is the same issue that permeates all kink and, by extension, all sexuality: consent. There are feedists, particularly feeders, who fetishize all fat people, regardless of their wishes; feedists who try to force fat people to participate in kink with or without their knowledge or permission. This is abhorrent behavior; there are no excuses for it. But the problem here is a violation of consent and not the kink itself. The unethical practice of kink does not make the kink unethical. And while feedees are often disregarded in discussions of feedism and fat liberation (which I have already talked about in depth here), there are most assuredly fat feedees, like myself, who are fully consenting to fat fetish play. 

While I can only speak for myself, I know that I am not the only person who developed this kink because of weight-related trauma. When you grow up fat, when you are forced to go to Weight Watchers at seven years old, your brain comes to associate fat as taboo and taboo as sexy–but it goes beyond an attraction to something risky or frowned upon. 

I live my life as a fat woman; I am fat at the doctor’s office and fat in tiny airplane seats and I am especially fat as a feedee. No matter if I’m engaging with my kink or not, I am fat and I don’t get to stop being fat outside of my bedroom. Out of all of the scenarios where I am existing in my fat body, engaging in kink play is the only one where I am experiencing pleasure because of my body, not despite it. It’s arousing to be praised for the thing that once made you hate yourself. It’s arousing to engage with something you fear or that has harmed you in a safe, controlled context where you have all the power to make it stop. 

What anti-feedist fat liberationists need to understand is that feedism is, at its core, a resistance to fatphobia. When you see things that are typically fatphobic in feedist play– terms like “pig,” “cow,” “tubby,” etc. and comments about being “out of shape” or “ruined” by fat– it is not a replication of weight stigma, but a subversion of it. Feedism takes the harmful stereotypes of fatness and robs them of their power by putting them in a new context; a context where fatness is so desirable that feedists want more of it. By using the language and misconceptions of fatness to give and receive pleasure instead of to oppress, feedism not only creates a safe space to heal from fatphobic trauma, but it empowers fatness– it empowers fat people, which is supposed to be the goal of fat liberation.

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

an impolite use of magic

I was rereading Malleus’s Dorm Uniform vignettes to gather information for another post! Something that stuck out to me upon the reread was how magic can be used in an insulting or disrespectful way. We often hear about how both NRC and Twisted Wonderland itself has many rules and regulations which govern magic and its uses—but it seems there is a social component too.

A quick summary of the aforementioned vignettes; they center around Malleus trying to make it to a dorm leaders meeting. After his peers fail to successfully remind him of their appointed time and day, Malleus decides it would be easier the other dorm leaders come to him rather than him going to them. He then casts a spell which transfers those he wishes to meet with (the headmaster and dorm leaders), bringing them directly to him. This is where it gets interesting, because it is Malleus using this spell on his peers that offends them.

Azul indicates that he had never been treated with such disrespect and that Malleus’s act is an insult. Vil and Leona express upset that Malleus seems to think of them as nothing more than objects, luggage, a pen, or a book. Malleus says he does not understand why everyone is mad because the same spell he used on them, they use all the time to summon their magical pens to them. Riddle clarifies: “PENS ARE OBJECTS AND WE ARE HUMAN BEINGS!!” Lastly, Idia likens the situation to being treated like a familiar that Malleus sees fit to summon at his beck and call, which is also just as irritating.

Judging by the other dorm leaders’ reactions, we can infer that most mages find it extremely impolite to have a spell which is typically used on objects cast on them/living beings. Riddle implies you must obtain consent before doing so, otherwise it violates decorum. (This aligns with the idea that magic is usually formally regulated; for example, medical mages must still get their patients’ consent to operate on them or to heal them.)

Reviewing the other lore we know of, this piece of magical manners (?) makes sense. It seems to be okay to cast object-oriented magic so long as permission is granted. For example, in Floyd’s Labwear vignettes, Adeuce are shown practicing color changing magic on an apple. Vil would use similar color changing magic to alter his and his father’s clothes when they were being hounded by the paparazzi. A similar situation would occur in Lilia’s Suitor Suit vignettes, in which Malleus uses his magic to create a suit on Lilia that perfectly matches his image. I’m sure there are many other examples you could think of; these are just the most obvious ones that come to my mind.

Where does that leave us? Well, with a bunch more questions!! Firstly, what else is considered rude use of magic? Secondly, are spells which violate control over one’s mind and body also considered transgressions of social norms??? They must be, right?? Then why was everyone so chill when discussing how Ruggie and Jamil used their UMs in the main story compared to Malleus casting his transference spell? Isn’t having someone else’s will overwrite your own equally as, if not more, degrading and dehumanizing??? (We do see the the other students upset about the magic being casted on them after the fact, but talking about the possibility of it isn’t done with horror; maybe because it was already established that doing these things is a no-no.) In which case, Ruggie and Jamil, who have UMs meant to be used on living beings anyway, is also “impolite” because their spells still violate other people’s autonomy. Why isn’t this banned by law or at least regulated?? Because it’s too hard to control through legislation alone? (That actually makes sense 💦)

What about when Deuce cast a floating spell on Ace to launch him at the chandelier in the prologue? Or the time NRC students made rude Halloween goers (Magicam Monsters) leave campus by floating them over the school gates?? Were those instances considered impolite too???? And is it more impolite to use magic against a non-mage (since they cannot defend themselves) than against a mage? They mention in Terror is Trending that there are laws against using (attack) magic on non-mages, but what about non-attacking spells and with consent like color changing magic???

What are the rules around casting magic on sentient objects like the Mirror of Darkness, is that considered rude as well since the object is “living”? Do ghosts count as “living” enough to be offended by having an object-oriented spell cast on them? Where do blessings and curses fall in this, since those can be cast without consent (Lilia on baby Silver in book 7) and can also be cast on objects (Vil with the gifted cake and pie in book 5).

I must.. know… 🤡

[ofbreathandflame-archive]

I can tell that Feysand stans only criticize the pregnancy plot because they know antis will, not because they fundamentally think Rhys did anything wrong. Because they'll start off by saying "I don't condone what Rhys did," and then the rest of the post is...them condoning what Rhys did. You should consider all facts and then come to a conclusion, not make a prevailing point, but not actually have any reasons why it's wrong. I don't care that Rhys is traumatized, and neither is Feyre, because she literally tells Rhys multiple times to suck it up or leave her out of it.

I think is wrong because I've considered all of the information and facts and concluded that the justification given was not adequate enough. I've already considered that (1) Rhys is traumatized and (2) his intention is to save Feyre, but as established by Feyre in MaF, she values her autonomy over safety. She literally tells Rhys in MaF, angrily, how she does not ever want him to consider her emotions for her.

See: "I don't want to hear this, I don't want to hear you explain how you assumed that you best, that I couldn't handle it." Also see: "I don't want to hear you tell me that you decided I was to be kept in the dark while your friends knew, while you all decided what was right for me"

That is Feyre. That is her direct narration. That is what she had deemed as violating. She literally talks about how that betrayal breaks her heart. Yet, no one of those Feyre stan ever brings this up in relation to the pregnancy plot. Not one of them explains how the Inner Circle's actions were intrinsically wrong. How the acceptance of the mating bond subtextually promises that Rhys and his Inner Circle will never do that again. And then over and over it hands. Also notice the 'your 'friends' language ....says a lot to me. You can't just say well, I don't consider this canon so I won't consider it -- this is consistent behavior.

[missadangel]

The Heart of Rome (Marcus Acacius x Reader)

yeeey my new fanfic, welcome all <3 couldn't wait till second trailer lool

All Chapter List

(Marcus Acacius x Reader)

Summary:  You are a secret medicus (a psychian), who embarks on a dangerous path to heal General Marcus Acacius, wounded during the war, but there is a secret, you think you're an orphan, but you're wrong. You're actually, the daughter of the previous emperor. Everyone thinks your'e dead long ago. But even you don't know anything about this and everything you knew is about to change.

Rating: Mature, 18+

Word Count: 8,367 just first episode)

Warnings: falling in love, slow burn, rough sex, smut, sex, violence, blood, ancient time language, fluffy, injury

Notes:  This is my second fanfiction, my english better now hope you all like my story, my chapters will be looong, so have fun :)

Chapter 1: Heal the Heart 

Odi et amo. Quare id faciam, nescio. Sed fieri sentior et excrucior.  I love you and I hate you.  Why I do this, I have no idea.  But I feel it happening and I’m in agony. [Catullus]

Following the conquest of Egypt and its incorporation into the Roman Empire, there was a growing interest in its ancient culture. Over time, many in Egypt began to express a desire for greater autonomy and control over their own affairs. Dissatisfaction with Roman control over Egypt became part of the Egyptian psyche.

This is precisely why, immediately after the death of Emperor Septimius Severus, preparations for revolt began in Egypt. His emperor sons Caracella and Geta were already doing little else but quarreling with each other, drinking and having fun, watch gladiators  fighting and feeling proud of themselves. Even when they were informed that their subjects in Egypt had revolted, they continued to do what they were doing. They didn't care about anything but themselves and their daily activities.

The Egyptians were aware of this, of course, they knew they could not be a strong soldier like their emperor father. They were quite sure that the day would come when they, with the help of the Greeks, would put the Roman governors in Egypt to the sword. After all, they had been making preparations since the death of Severus. There were Jews among them too, all of them insistent on establishing the sovereignty of ancient Egypt, but there was one thing they did not consider or pay much attention to.

General Marcus Acacius.

They say, you can feel the ground shake when he walks on it. He makes his opponents feel certain of their own death at the very moment he draws his sword. A daring commander with  few who could stand up to him. It is unclear whether this is an exaggeration or not, but it is still rumored that he cut a lion in half in the Colosseum.

A beast in every sense of the word.

More than that, he is a leader who manages his legions very well and spur them on to achieve success during the war, a man who has not yet tasted a failure, well-earned the title of general in every way.

Since it was obvious that no one else could succeed in suppressing the rebellion, he was immediately sent to the region with the intervention of his Empresss Julia Domna, the mother of the two emperors.

Just like she guessed, he had succeeded in putting down the rebellion, of course, no doubt, as soon as his name rang through, the rebels, along with all the inhabitants of Egypt, have knew that they already defeated.

Some were forced to surrender, those who resisted and fled were found and killed by the Roman soldiers, but not all. The general didn't kill the surrendered ones, he took them as captives which was pretty fair for a beast. In contrast to him, the ones who fled were not, they were so desperate that they didn't know what to do and they started attacking everything and everywhere like rabid dogs.

They even attempted to violate the laws of war and mapped out a plan to kill the General and his soldiers, and even all the medics, in the night at their camps. It was a suicide mission, but they were on the verge of success.

'Has anyone seen the General? He's not in his tent!' A burly soldier strode in, holding his sword which was covered in the blood of the rebel he had just killed. He looked through all the tents one by one, moving quickly and with a concerned look on his face.

The clinking of swords echoed in the darkness as the soldiers cut down the last remaining rebels to death with their swords.

Soon, the soldier ran to his General, relieved to see him, but he was wounded in the abdomen moments ago. As he gently pressed his hand to his injury, a small amount of blood emerged, shining like rubies under the moonlight as it dripped from between his strong fingers onto the grass. His attackers were no longer alive, they were all lying on the ground, were literally cut to ribbons. They attacked him in his sleep when he was wearing nothing but his tunic, catching him off guard. He nodded to the soldier, demanding assistance as his white tunic transformed into a crimson hue. He had been wounded many times before, countless times, but this was nothing like before and was undoubtedly the worst injury he had ever sustained. ‘I think, I… got…,’ he groaned, it hurt much even when he speaks, feeling like beneath the wound his blood was boiling. ‘…poisoned.’ These were the last words spilled from his lips before his enormous body slumping to his knees, collapse altogether to the ground.

The woman with waist-length with black hair was dragging you along with her as she walking across the meadow, you were struggled, couldn’t control your feet, as if the ground was sliding under. She had her hands outstretched at her sides, even though her back was turned, it was not difficult to see her smile by the sunlight reflecting the curve of her chin. She abruptly ceased her movement and bent down to gather a few herbs in a meadow. She plucked them, gathered them in her palms, and kissed them. You heard the whispers between her lips and the harmony of the wind rippling through your ears. It was clear that she was blessing these herbs. When she turned to you, you staggered backwards, hypnotized by her face, so beautiful, mesmerizing, her eyes hypnotizing yours, it was impossible to look away, no escape from them.

Perhaps even more surprising than anything else was that her face and eyes were identical to yours. It really was truly astonishing. She handed you the plants like they were rare jewelry. You could see her arms shone in the sun, and her skin looked like fine marble. It was impossible to believe that it could be human skin; it must have been that of a goddess, but why did her face resemble yours?

'Heal the heart, child,' her voice sang through the meadow like a gentle breeze. You couldn't move your lips, but she heard you anyway.

‘Heart?’

A warm wind blew, and the silhouette of the woman came closer, startling you. Her hazel eyes were turning green under the sun. As she slightly opens her lips, you locked your eyes on them and waited eagerly for the answer.

‘The heart of Rome,’ almost whispers, ‘Serve it,’ a little loud now like commanding, ‘Heal it...’ again whispers then gently puts the herbs on your hand.

A strong wind blew, and the silhouette of the woman danced with the wind. The sunny sky burst into a starry night as the wind embraced the silhouette and rose to the sky, to the stars. You felt the ground under your feet, but your eyes were drawn to the enchanting sky.

As the wind finally gave way to the silent night, you looked at the herbs you were holding in your hand. These kind of herbs you were used to seeing almost every day, but what you were not used to seeing was that they were sparkling like diamonds between your fingers. It was as if you could feel their healing power on your skin.

Abruptly, you heard the voice again, echoing across the meadow. Your ears were once more caressed, blessed, but this time, the words were different.

‘Cure him…’

You barely heard your name being called and your body was shaking, slowly opened your eyes, you saw a familiar but worried face.

‘Wake up, please, you need to get up now,’ the concern in the man's voice brought you back to reality, the effect of the dream disappearing like a cloud of dust between the stone walls and dissipating into the air.

‘Uncle?’

You had rarely seen this face of your uncle who had taken you in when you were an orphan, who cared for you, protected you and raised you well more than any other father or mother ever would.

You sat up from the firm mattress you were lying on, ‘I thought we were travelling tomorrow night?’

‘No, no, that's not why I woke you up,’ he put your big dark cloak over your head. ‘You need to hide.’

You were startled to hear shouting and footsteps coming from outside the wooden door of the room. This was not the sort of noise you would normally expect to hear in this Valetudinarium (hospital, clinic) at this late hour. 

‘What is going on?’ You rub your eyes with your fingers, trying to figure out the situation.

Your uncle tucked your hair deeper into your cloak.

'The Roman soldiers are gathering all the medici (psychians). I have to go with them.'

'Roman soldiers? I thought they left after they put down the rebellion, and slaughtered thousands. Besides, they already have medici with them why they-?'

He grabbed you by the shoulders, his anxiety evident.

'Some rebels with indigestion murdered all the medici in their tents, and then-'

A soldier's voice was heard from one of the nearby rooms. You both turned your heads in that direction, startled, and then looked at each other again.

'General, they targeted him. They attacked him in his sleep. He got them, but he got poisoned. They want me to save him.'

‘Poisoned? But Uncle, he might already be dead, if you won’t be able to cure him they'll blame you or punish you and-’

‘Don’t think about it now, go and hide, as a woman you are not allowed to be here remember? You have to hide and wait for my return.’

The soldiers' voices were heard very close by.

‘No, I'll come with you, if it's aspis (venomous snake in Nile region) venom we'll use the same techniques as before, like we did with the boy last time, it would take too long to make an antivenom on your own, let me help you.’

‘It's too dangerous for you my dearest, to go among the soldiers, even if you wear these men clothes, we can't hide the beauty of your face, dear.’

You strode over to the cauldron in the fireplace and ran your hands over the soot that had accumulated underneath it.

‘It worked before,’ you said, rubbing a little soot on your cheeks.

‘Only at the market. This time it's more dangerous. I'd never forgive myself if I couldn't protect you there.’

‘Don't worry. I'll be back here as soon as we've finished with the antivenom. I know all the paths and shortcuts very well now.’

Suddenly a soldier burst in, kicking the door angrily, you shuddered.

‘You two! Get out, now! We don't have time!

‘We're making sure to collect all medical supplies, sir,’ he turned to you. ‘Come on, boy, don't dawdle!’

You nodded without looking at soldier, grabbed all medicine bottles.

‘You'd better hurry!’

As soon as the soldier left the room, your uncle moved swiftly to the corner and opened the small wooden chest. He took out a cream-coloured envelope of slightly worn paper, sealed with a wax seal bearing the emblem of Septimius Severus.

'This is…'

'I was going to give this to you tomorrow as I promised last time, but there's no time now. If anything happens to me, you will open it. Everything about your true family is in here.'

You took the envelope from him with shaking hands. The previous emperor himself had sealed it. You wondered what it meant.

Your uncle grabbed your shoulders and shook you, making sure you understood how important this letter was.

‘No one should ever see this. Do you understand me? No one! After you open it, hide it. Do not let anyone see it. But don't lose it, hide it like your life depends on it, you'll understand why.’

You nodded firmly and swallowed hard. You tucked the letter into the bag hanging around your neck and hid it at the very bottom under the medicine bottles, making them rattle in the process.

‘Aya, you’re going to have to choose,’ he looked at you before leaving the room.

‘Choose what uncle?’

‘To run or stay. It’ll make sense when you read the letter,’ he checked the hall and grabbed your wrist. You were so confused but you had to think about this later.

'We have to get out now, soldiers are outside, quick!'

The soldiers had gathered all the medici they could find in the army headquarters, near the tents. There were seven of them yet were unable to find a solution to the General's injury. When it was only you and your uncle who were next, a burly soldier, who was of a higher rank than the others, approached you two. You kept your head down, avoiding eye contact. Everyone was in a rush, with almost all of them mobilized to save the general's life. Your gender didn't matter to them, for now. As you were about to follow your uncle into the tent, the soldier stopped you by raising his hand.

‘Only the medicus.’

‘My aide, sir, let him in. He's as expert as I am.’

As your uncle is their last hope, he let you in, but did not follow you inside, stands guard outside the tent. The General's squire was standing right next to him, he looked at you with tears in his eyes. It was a heartbreaking sight. The sorrow had taken possession of everything inside the tent, and you could feel it right down to your bones.

The General was lying on a mattress in the west corner of the tent. He was unconscious, but you noticed that his lips were moving, like murmuring. You moved forward to look closer to see his face, which you had been so curious about.

His face was exactly as you had imagined, and yet not. He had many scars, as if he had been born with them, his light brown skin embracing them. His moustache and beard were partially grey, his nose and chin perfectly shaped, as if the Prometheus had spent more time shaping this man. His face was stunning, and it made your heart beat fast. You had never felt this way about any other man, well you never had an opportunity to do though.

You were somewhat disappointed to see his eyes closed. You were curious about what they might look like, and you were eager to see what he would look like when he opened them. When you found yourself wanting to touch his face, you were a little surprised. For a moment, you forgot why you were there. Your uncle had already picked up the sword with which General had been wounded and was examining the blood on it. You went over to help him, keeping one eye on the general, lying there with his imposing body and half of the white tunic he wore dyed red.

Your heart constricted with pain, and the dream you had came vividly to mind.

‘Cure him.’

‘We need to check his wound!’ You were startled by your uncle's loud voice, squinting at you, you felt ashamed.

As your uncle beckoned, you approached him, seeing the wound was not deep but the skin around the cut starting to get pale from the venom and the edges curling inwards.

‘He doesn't have much time, let's start making the antivenom now,’ he swallowed, the wound was really getting worse, you had to cure him no matter what.

Maybe, you thought, this is why the Gods showed you this in your dream, they warned you in advance that your life depends on it.

The process of making the antivenom took slightly longer than anticipated, but you persevered admirably. Your uncle cleaned the wound to neutralize it while you were perspiring from the fabric of your clothes. Once the antivenom was finally administered, your uncle applied the antidote carefully to the wound but he was exhausted, fingers are shaking so you helped him even you were feeling so tired too. Your eyelids were almost closed but you managed to complete your duty perfectly.

The soldier from earlier came into the tent to check the process, you bowed your head, and stepped back.

'We've cleaned the wound, once its neutralized, applied the antidote. We just need to wait now,' your uncle informed him, wiping sweat off his forehead. 'We need to give him some time, and make sure he drinks water soon to avoid dehydration.’

As the solider checking the wound you turned your head to look at the squire boy who was sobbing just ago, already fallen asleep. Poor boy, you thought.

The soldier ordered you to leave the tent and wait outside.

You felt your arms and legs go numb with fatigue and collapsed to the ground, sat cross-legged, trying hard to stay awake. Your uncle was same but he still struggled to sleep. In the end, he couldn't control his eyelids.

You woke up to the sound of the soldiers shouting and arguing. You turned your head, couldn't make out what they were disagreeing about, but they were making a lot of noise.

'You better go in and make sure the General drinks some water. He needs to stay hydrated,' your uncle said in firmly, watching the soldiers probably keep an eye on them.

The tent was empty except for the General. The soldier from earlier was outside, reassuring the other soldiers. You approached to check him. His forehead was covered in sweat, his body was fighting with venom. You quickly grabbed a damp cloth and pressed it gently on his forehead. Then you touched his lips with your thin, fragile fingers. You felt something intense growing inside you. As a secret medicus, you have touched the face and other parts of the body of many men and women to cure them. However, touching this man's face and lips was never like touching others.

You took a deep breath to pull yourself together. This was nonsense.

You made his lips crack open and dipped a rag into the fresh water in the copper pot. You pressed it against the general's rather dry, pale lips, squeezing it through his mouth.

After repeatedly doing this, you decided you had enough. Just before you withdrew your hand, the general's strong hand grabbed yours with a firm grip. You were surprised and moaned in pain, opened your hand with pressure, and the rag fell to the ground.

You swallowed hard, your heart racing as you looked at his face. He opened those eyes you had been so curious about and looked at you with a cold, calculating gaze, squeezing your wrist so tightly you felt it would break in a minute. You stifled a scream and moaned in pain, 'Sir, I'm here for help.' You sounded almost as if you were crying, and suddenly he moaned in pain as well, throwing his head back and closing his eyes, the effort drained him. His chest rose and fell rapidly as his breathing quickened.

When he finally released your wrist, you threw yourself backwards for dear life, rubbed your wrist with your other hand and stroked it, praying to the Gods to take the pain away. You could have sworn to Jupiter that if he had squeezed your wrist any harder, you would have heard a cracking sound coming from your bones.

How could he possibly be so strong even when exhausted, so close to death?

As the pain receded, you took a deep breath and forced yourself to calm down. Your thin wrist was painted the red like poppies, as if the shadows of his fingers were engraved on your skin.

You glanced timidly over your shoulder, he was still lying with his eyes closed, but you had just made a terrible mistake, he heard your voice, must have noticed you were a woman, and only the Gods knew what he would do when he came to his senses.

You had to leave immediately, wrapping your wrist in a clean piece of cloth and tucking the sleeve of your dress into it so that the bandage wouldn't be visible. When you came out of the tent, your uncle grabbed your arm and pulled you behind the tent.

‘Uncle, the General seemed to opened his eyes for a moment and heard my voice, he might remember when he awakens,' you said in a whisper, hoping no one have heard you.

‘Gods have mercy upon us,’ he glanced down, murmuring, then grabbed you by shoulders. “Time to go, you need to leave now. Go by following the path through the woods. Soldiers having a disagreement about something, I think they found out-‘

‘You, medicus, come here,’ one of the soldiers shouted at your uncle.

Your uncle gestured to you with his eyes, saying ‘go now’,

'You too!' you gasped as you realised the soldier waving his hand at you.

'Sir, he should stay with the General...' your uncle stepped in front of you to protect you.

'I said come, both of you, now,' he wasn’t asking, it was a firm order.

As you took tentative steps towards the place where the other soldiers were forming a circle beside your uncle, your heart began to beat as if it were going to burst. These were the soldiers who had just fought, and you wondered if they hurt each other, but you could not see anyone hurt or wounded.

On the contrary, they looked at you curiously, only at you.

‘That's nonsense, Dimitrus, this boy can't be a girl,' said one soldier pointing you with a small knife in his hand.

Your uncle was standing next to you, his fear having come true, his face taut with worry.

As the soldier, who you guessed was named Dimitrus, approached you, your uncle took a step in front of him, but the soldier easily overpowered him and pushed him aside. The soldier looked at your body from top to bottom. You bowed your head and clenched your fists. Your heart pounded in your chest as your breathing quickened. He yanked down your hood of your cloak with his big hands, other soldiers came nearby for a better look.

Your hair was tied up at the back of your head, and the soldier's grin widened when he noticed. He drew his dagger from its holster, and when you saw your uncle's worried face behind the soldier's formidable arm, you began to pray to all the Gods.

He grabbed your bun with his hand and cut the hairband with his dagger, your golden-brown wavy hair falling over your shoulders. The soldiers laughed and whistled. Dimitrus looked at them with a cocky smile and turned back to you.

‘Such a long hair for a aide boy, eh?’

'A girl, indeed,' said one soldier, looking at you with disbelief.

‘I told you I could smell a woman a mile away,’ he laughed, his voice booming.

'Please,' you demanded, feeling unable to do anything else. A feeling of despair took control of your whole body.

‘What is going on here?’ The burly soldier approached and noticed your new look, looking at you in astonishment. Dimitrus grabbed you by the hair and pulled you towards him. He then grabbed your chin and turned your face to Octavius.

'Look at her. You don't even know that the medicus brought a girl with him, Octavius?' And you're the general's right-hand man!’

You struggled to move your body, but he was so strong.

‘Hey, I can't see her face clearly!'

You closed your eyes tightly as someone threw wine on your face. Dimitrus wiped your face with his big fingers, rubbing roughly.

'Gods, no ordinary beauty,' looking at you like a hungry wolf, then smells your hair making you feel nauseous.

You tried to look away, but your eyes met your uncle's desperate gaze.

‘That's enough, Dimitrus, let her go, is this what you all thinking while our General lies there like that?’

You rushed to your uncle's side as his hands released your hair.

‘He's already dead, I've never seen anyone get up after being poisoned,’ he says as if he was looking forward to his death.

Octavius drew his sword with a schwing. ‘How dare you! Say that again and I'll cut your tongue off!’ he growled.

Dimitrus' followers drew their swords as well. Octavius looked at each of them with anger and disbelief. He has been betrayed.

‘You filthy rats! I'll kill you one by one!’ He waved his long sword at them.

Dimitrus grabbed your uncle by the collar, 'Start with this one. Who knows what he gave the General instead of medicine?'

‘Yes, he must be punished!’

'Punish him, Octavius!'

They were all yelling at him by raising their swords, you were thinking a way out but there wasn’t any.

‘If you won't, I will,' Dimitrus pointed his swords end at your uncle.

‘No!' you cried but your uncle stopping you with his hand.

Then, as Octavius raised his hand and was about to lunge at him, Dimitrus plunged his sword through your uncle's stomach, the poor man groaning in pain and falling to his knees, and as you ran towards him, he drew back his sword, his blood splashing in your face with the force of the draw. Your body began to shake and you felt paralysed as you watched his lifeless body fall to the ground.

'Dimitrus!' Octavius roared, ‘You've gone too far! What do you think our general will do to you when he awakens?’

You collapsed to your knees in shock, your body rigid and still, your face expressionless yet tears streaming down your cheeks.

'General? You failed to save him, you let that medicus get into his tent, you must share his fate! I will tell the emperors that this is your fault! And I think we should put the general out of his misery-'

Suddenly, an axe emerged from nowhere and plunged into Dimitrus' chest deeply. His body reeled back, shaking, then fell to the ground lying backwards, dying in a pool of blood as everyone looked at him in astonishment and panic. Blood gushed from where his chest had been split open, and when he stopped breathing, laying there as his eyes remained wide open.

They turned their head to see who had thrown the axe and they were shocked once again.

The general could barely stands near his tent, his eyes filled with rage, his gaze blazing with fury. Octavius ran to his side quickly.

'General! Thank Gods you're finally awake!’

'What's going on here, Octavius?' his voice was like a roar.

‘Sir, Dimitrus and others have attempted to mutiny.’

Acacius gave the other soldiers a deathly stare and they immediately kneeled down with their swords upside down.

'No, sir, we did not.’

'Forgive me, sir, it was Dimitrus doing.’

'Sir, please forgive me.’

You closed your uncle's eyelids with your fingers as they all begged for forgiveness. Your back was turned to the General, you didn't care if you live or die, you didn’t care about anything. You felt your whole life was already over.

'If any of you ever dare to do anything like this again,' he walked near Dimitrus’ body and pulled the axe from his chest roughly, you startled by the crunching sound coming from his bones.

'I Marcus Acacius, will make sure that he meets the same fate as this scum!'

He put them all in their place, they all nodded in fear and stood up with his gesture, bowing their heads though couldn't look him in the face.

'Now get ready, we must sail at dawn!'

‘Yes sir!’

All of them sheathing their swords, spreading around in rush.

Acacius staggered a little as they gone at his sight, his wound still hurting but he tried hard not to show them.

Octavius touched his arm, 'Sir, the Gods have spared your life but please rest a little longer.’

'Who is this man?’

You were certain he was talking about your uncle, even though your back was turned to him.

'The medicus who cured you, sir, Dimitrus got mad and killed him because he thought he couldn't save you.'

'As if we haven't lost enough medici tonight. He was wrong obviously. This man managed to cure me. I'm standing thanks to him,' he turned his head to Octavius. 'Make sure this man's body reaches his family. Let the governor know about this. They should fulfil all ritual arrangements.'

Octavius nodded, "Yes sir, I will."

Then both turned their gaze to you. 'What about this one?'

Your body was petrified, you felt the time of execution has come, you’ve never expected the last moments of your life to be like this.

‘I think this was his aide or slave sir, Dimitrus found out she was a woman, that medicus was hiding her, sir,’ he bowed his head in shame, you swallowed.

Acacius' pain returned, he groaned in pain, Octavius grabs his waist gently, "Sir, please rest, you need to get your strength back.’

'Sir!' Acacius' squire came and put his arm under his.

It was time for him to turn his back to you.

‘Since her master has died, take this girl to the other slaves, I don't want any more chaos or mishap,’ he said in a firm voice.

You wiped tears from your eyes with the back of your hand as their footsteps faded away. Two soldiers came and grabbed your arms, lifted you off the ground while the others carrying your uncle’s body. When you turned your head, glancing over your shoulder, saw the General's curly grey hairs and his well-shaped nose before he went into his tent.

Your body was filled with rage.

What you heard was only a heightening of your pain and a deepening of your hurt.

A slave? How could he say that? The one who cured him was now worthy of being a slave?

As the mid-morning sun began to reflect on the walls of Rome through the haze that filled the

harbour, the capital was preparing to experience one of the most active days in its history. Everyone who noticed the navy ships approaching the harbour from afar, citizens, subjects, foreign mission chiefs, tradesmen, civil servants, porters, all filled the entrance of the city. They were waiting to welcome General Marcus Acacius and the glorious Roman soldiers. On the deck of the large ship at the forefront of the fleet, the General sighs deeply as he looks out over his city, thanking Mars for his triumphant and healthy return.

It ten days to get from the port of Alexandria to Rome, a very difficult experience for you, travelling with captives called slaves. Most of them were Greeks and Egyptians, and the fact that the streets of the Roman capital were filled with shouts of joy was of no interest to them. On board the ship they were constantly told that the slave market in the capital was a very prestigious place, that the young girls would be well brought up by certain families, that they should stop crying, that they should pray to Jupiter to make the wealthy families could like them and buy them with high prices.

But you were not like those slaves, you were not a prisoner of war, nor was your family enslaved or poor. Your uncle was a renowned and esteemed medicus. He was a member of an affluent family. He and his wife found you on the banks of the River Nile when you were three years old. That is what they told you. The gods had not blessed them with a child, so they loved you as much as their own. You knew he wasn't your real father or uncle, but you were very happy with your life and didn't ask too many questions until he told you about that letter the night before the night that ruined your life.

As an orphan, you were brought up well by your uncle, learning all about Egyptian medicine, performing countless surgeries at his side, bringing many people back to life -including the general himself- and learning enough to become an expert. But, no one could call you as medicus because you were a woman, yet your talents were too great to be ignored. No matter who you told on this ship, no one would believe you, and even if they did, there was nothing they could do about it.

As you looked out through the small cracks between the planks of the ship, your eyes travelled over the seemingly endless sea. You couldn't stop thinking about the dream you had that night.

‘Cure him.’

Wouldn't it have been better if you haven't cure him? Perhaps your uncle would still be alive. Maybe you wouldn't be sitting on this ship now, resigned to your fate, wondering, worrying what will happen to you. Is this your reward for healing the great Roman general?

That man ruined your life, and you only did yourself a disservice by saving him.

Perhaps the gods were testing you, but what was the lesson?

You looked at the shadow of the General's fingers under the piece of cloth you had wrapped around your wrist. The color was that of violets caressed by moonlight days ago. Now, it is unmistakably that color, doesn’t hurt much anymore.

As the ship rumbled into port, you realized that it was time to accept your fate. In the dark and damp bilge of the ship, you and a girl close to your age called Decima took turns using the same swing as a bed, you liked each other very much and in desperation you became confidants. She was in her early twenties, beautiful yet you were in your late twenties, ahead of her in beauty. Her father was a rebel, probably killed by the General's men, and she was taken as captive. You told her almost everything except the letter that you’re hiding in your bag.

As soon as you stepped into the harbour, the discrimination began, the general and his men moved in the other direction, while the trader man of slaves were standing in front of you ordered you to move somewhere else.

You frowned as you saw his face in the distance over the shoulders of the people in the crowd, he looked very healthy, his body had managed to overcome the venom of the past few days and his wound has healed. You remembered how you had spent hours with your uncle trying to cure him, how you had struggled for hours to make the antidote while your arms and wrists ached with pain.

The General's face lit up with a warm smile as he waved his hand at his citizens, you were surprised to find that all your anger has vanished for a moment.

You turned your head away, looking at him would only cause you pain. He didn't look at you because he hasn't seen your face yet -well not clearly-, furthermore, you’ve never met face to face, to him you’re just a slave nothing more. Octavius however, recognised you from a distance. He was the only one who has witnessed your hard work. He was an honorable men, didn’t like to see you among the slaves, yet he has nothing to do, it was his General's order.

In the evening of that day, after the slaves were taken to the baths and then to the slave market for sale, you and Decima were taken by the slaver man to a separate cell. From outside, one could hear the sounds of a lively market, where slaves were being sold one by one. There was a great deal of interest in these new slaves from Egypt.

Slaver man appeared at the door of your cell in the market with a man over your age looks wealthy. Decima immediately stood up, but you did not. The slaver gestured with his hand, turning Decima around in the center and showing her arms, face and feet, squinting at you meanwhile.

‘Look at these strong and beautiful young girls, sir, I wouldn’t show you any poor slaves, they are both virgins, and they are very beautiful, the great Venus has bestowed her beauty on these girls. They would fetch a lot of money if they went to the market, but I thought I would show them to you first sire.’ He was blandishing much, but the man's eyes were locked on you.

‘Doesn't she have any manners? Why doesn't she stand up?’

‘You're right sir, she must be a bit sick from travelling, she will,’ he gestured to you with his hand, ‘Come on, get up, girl.’

You rolled your eyes and got up, he squeezed your arm hard to warn you first, then did everything what he had done to Decima, opening almost every part of your body for the other man to see. It was incredibly disgusting, you felt like an animal being sold at the cattle market.

‘The other one is younger, but this one is so beautiful, a rare one,’ he said, grabbed you by arm, looking at you hungrily. ‘How much do you want for this one?’

Your eyes meet with Decima in a silent exchange, as it was time to go your separate ways.

‘Eight thousand sesterces, sire.’

He pursed his lips, thinking, his fingers touching your hair mean while you were closing your eyes, praying for a miracle.

‘Ten thousand sesterces!’

A familiar voice of a man echoed through stone walls. You all turned your heads to that direction.

‘General Marcus Acacius offers ten thousand sesterces for this girl!’ Octavius’ imposing body appeared, he came towards them with his armor making a sharp noise with every step. He threw a big coin pouch to the slaver, who caught it with a big smile on his face.

‘Sold, of course,’ he was counting the coins with happy face.

Then Octavius firmly grabbed the other man's arm that was still touching you, lifted it, and pushed it away. He frowned.

‘This girl belongs to General Acacius now, sir, you must not touch her,’ he warned him gently but firmly.

As the general entered the city in his chariot, the people shouted his name. He waved his hand to them, and the streets were filled with a great enthusiasm as everyone gathered to honour the general and his soldiers. The chariot carrying him soon passed under the triumphal arch of Septimius Severus and turned towards the Curia Julia, the Senate building, where the emperors must have been waiting for him. The general's smile faded. He was tired and not looking forward to seeing them, but he would not go to his villa before visiting the emperors.

As General strode purposefully up the marble stairs, Geta and Caracella leapt down from their golden imperial thrones in excitement. As soon as Geta saw him, he opened his arms wide.

‘How can I reward Rome's greatest general?'

'By letting him catch his breath first,' Caracella smiled widely.

Acacius stopped in front of them and nodded, 'Emperors.'

'We have been eagerly awaiting for your arrival, general,' Geta clasped his hands together, looking at him with admiration.

'Speak for yourself, brother. My legs ache from sitting for so long,' Caracella said, then laughed loudly. 'But it was worth it, indeed!'

‘Indeed!’ They both laughed once more, but Caracella looking at his brother a bit strange way.

It was hard to tell if Caracella wanted to embrace Geta or if wanted to take his life right then and there. The relationship between the two of them was quite distorted.

The general rolled his eyes, he was used to these two whiny emperors half of his age bickering at each other all the time, he sighed in frustration at having to put up with them when he could easily take both their lives with a single stroke of his sword. Unfortunately, this unpleasant situation had only just begun.

‘We heard that you were poisoned, how did it feel?’ Geta looked at him with wide eyes and smile.

The news must have reached the emperors before the general had even boarded the ship.

'Painful, your highness,' Acacius stated, a shadow passing over his brown eyes as he remembered the pain again.

'I'm sure it was, it must have been an interesting experience.’ Caracella crossed his arms; smiling just like his brother.

‘Cobra or viper?’

‘Aspis, highness, the viper type.’

‘Oh, I won!’ Geta jumped for joy and gestured to Caracella with his hand, imitating a snake.

Caracella ignored him looking at the General.

‘The rebels must have quite a sense of humour, poisoning a Roman General carrying Medusa on his chest with a snake, quite ironic,’ he touched Medusa on General's armor with his index finger.

Acacius frowned while looking at him, ‘They certainly do, they murdered all our medici mercilessly, fortunately the great Asclepius sent his help, my men brought another medicus from city was able to cure me, it is thanks to him that I can stand here in front of you, highness,’ Acacius remembered the memory when he was unsure whether it was a dream or not but he could not get out of his mind the fingers that touched his lips, the owner of those hazel eyes that came to his aid when his throat was dry from thirst. But it couldn't be medicus he thought, it had to be someone with thin fingers, someone with beautiful eyes he had never seen before. Maybe, since he was too close to death, it was a dream or a goddess has appeared to him, he couldn't be sure.

The first thing he remembers is opening his eyes and grabbing her wrist with his survival instinct. He thought it was a strange looking young man in a hood, maybe another rebel had come to kill him again, but then he heard her voice and thought his goddess had come to heal him. He was in so much pain and seeing hallucinations that he couldn't tell if it was a dream or not. But couldn’t get rid of those thoughts since days.

The emperors didn't seem to care much about the medicis the general was talking about, or how he had recovered, and Acacius seemed bored as they continued to joke with each other.

‘Mother,' Geta ran to her as he noticed the Empress approaching, extends his arm for her.

Julia Domna took his arm as she coming towards Acacius, whispering something into Geta’s ear, without taking her eyes off the General.

‘My lady,’ Acacius nodded to her.

Domna's smile was like Caracella's, you could never guess what she was thinking.

‘General, how good it is to see you return triumphant once more. Rome salutes you, and I embrace you,’ she approached him with open arms and put her hands Acacius’ board shoulders.

Caracella sat back on his throne, a bored look on his face.

‘My Lady, the honour is mine,’ the general said, bowing his head.

‘We shall sacrifice 1000 bulls to honor our triumphant mother!’ Geta clapped his hands excitedly, ‘Let's have a great feast tonight!’

‘Highness, let's give the General some time to rest, he must be tired from the battle,’ Domna removed her hands from the General's shoulders but kept her eyes on him.

Caracella let out a high, shrill laugh that echoed through the white marble columns. Geta sat on his throne and scowled.

‘Marcus, walk with me,’ the Empress turned round, gestured to him.

Acacius sighed, he didn't want to be alone with her, but he had to. Domna walked ahead of him, hands clasped behind her back, he followed her slowly.

‘My sons are glad to see you again, even if they have no idea how fortunate they are to have you serving them.’

'It is my duty to serve Rome.’

She paused and smiled, watching the water in the pool shimmer in the sunlight, the glow reflecting off her bright skin, her expression was difficult to read.

'I think you have a talent for survival.’

She sounded dissatisfied. 'After all, you trained under Maximus, you must have learned a lot from him.’

He looked away, 'I owe where I am today to the remarkable fighting skills he taught me, he was an honourable man, the greatest general Rome has ever seen,' Acacius' eyes were fixed on the great Temple of Venus between the eastern edge of the Forum Romanum and the Colosseum.

Domna looked at him with a feeling between admiration and concern.

‘He, like you, lived to serve Rome, even if he had to kill Commodus,’ she said, and even little children could catch the obvious implication in her voice.

Acacius held his ground, his eyes roaming the curves of the statue of Venus.

‘But unlike him, you are loyal to the emperors, I can be sure of that, can't I?

He turned his head towards her, but did not look at her. His eyes were now on the two spoilt emperors who were talking animatedly to each other between the columns. 'As long as Rome is prosperous for all her subjects, I will be loyal to them, my lady.'

Domna laughed loudly, 'Ah, that's why I want you in the Senate, how long will you refuse?

'I am only a soldier, politics is not my business, nor should it be. Scholars in the Senate -'

‘Those old foxes live in abundance and do nothing, the person who has done Rome the greatest service should be in the Senate.’ Domna glanced over her shoulder at her sons. 'I am concerned that Macrinus has no equal in the Senate and that Caracella dominates him, perhaps if you are in there, you will gain his trust.’

'Your Highness...' He looked at her shaking his head as no.

Domna looked at Acacius, this time with a serious expression on her face, 'For the sake of Rome you must be especially careful with Caracella, as her mother even I find it hard to get my way with him, he is not like Geta, he is a hard-headed child.’

Acacius looked at Caracella whose back was turned, of course he knew this very well, for a moment he thought that he was the real threat to Rome, not the enemy soldiers or the others.

‘Anyway, you should go to your villa and rest, you will have time to think about this alone,’ she said with a forced smile, then turned around to go to her sons.

After praying in the temple of Venus, Acacius walked out, and as he descended the steps of the temple, he felt a stinging pain where his wound had been, the poison had completely gone from his body, but it had left its trace behind.

Octavius was lost in thought as he has leaned against the side of the carriage waiting for him, quickly stood up when he noticed him.

‘Sir.’

‘I see you don't miss your home, as you're still here,' Acacius said as he descended the last step. He got into the carriage and climbed in to sit beside him. Acacius was quite tired so he lay down on the seat, the fact that he felt so comfortable with Octavius was because of their long friendship, he was his most trusted man, more than just a friend, like a brother.

'Are you going to tell me what's troubling you?’ Acacius covered his face with his arm, but he could feel the tension in him.

'Sir, the girl.’

'Oh, I see, a girl? Have you fallen in love with a girl?

'No, that's not it,' Octavius felt embarrassed as he remembers your face. 'That poor girl, It doesn't seem fair that she should be with those slaves, sir, you are an honourable man, but-'

Acacius lifted his arm from his face and looked at him, the cart swaying as it moved along the stony roads.

'The girl that medicus hid? Why do you care so much for her? Is there something I should know?’

'After all, they worked so hard together to cure you, perhaps you should have at least let her go home.’

‘Together? What do you mean?' Acacius sat up, his eyebrows furrowed.

Octavius bowed his head.

'Sir, I made a mistake, it was my fault for letting them into your tent, I don't know how I could have been so careless even after the assassination, forgive me...'

Acacius raised his hand.

'Slow down, we will talk about your mistake later, you are saying that girl entered my tent and cured me? How?’

'I didn't look closely at her face and I didn't know she was a woman maybe because of her outfit but I made a terrible mistake, I should’ve known, forgive me sir.’ He bowed his head once more but it made Acacius more angry.

'You haven't answered my question, Octavius,' his voice was loud.

'Yes sir, she did her best to cure you, sir, the girl and Medicus worked hard to produce antivenom all night.’

Acacius was surprised when he realized that he hadn't dreamed that night. He was glad to learn that the owner of those eyes was a real person. But then he thought that she might be on the slave market by now, about to be sold to someone else.

‘Stop the carriage!’ He yelled.

The coachman immediately did as he was told and pulled hard on the horses' harnesses, the horses howling and stamping their hooves on the ground.

'Sir?' Octavius raised his eyebrows in surprise.

'Go and find the girl, I want to see her at my villa tonight, do you understand? Acacius tossed him a pouch full of coins.

Octavius smiled, ‘Yes, sir.’

comment and like if you liked so far thank youu,

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[mikakuna]

can you imagine how both the gotham rogues and jason must've felt during the events of gotham war?

here all the rogues are, people who've hurt and killed thousands. a lot of them barely show regret for their actions and are repeat offenders. they're considered the worst of the worst by gotham's citizens. yet here comes batman, a man who strongly believes in rehabilitation and endless chances for all criminals. every time he puts the rogues in prison, he doesn't talk to them like they're animals and ensures they know he believes in them becoming better.

but then they hear about what batman did to the red hood- how he took away red hood's autonomy and completely violated his rights. they hear about how batman made it so that red hood only feels crippling fear when he feels adrenaline- that batman is doing it for red hood's own good.

and they wonder what batman sees in the red hood to see someone beyond rehabilitation. they wonder how batman believes in people like them, people who repeatedly kill indiscriminately, if he only sees the worst in the red hood, someone they know who doesn't hurt others like they do.

imagine how jason feels, realizing that he is the one person batman doesn't believe in rehabilitation for. that batman considers him more of a problem than his other rogues- that he's the one who needs his autonomy taken away compared to someone like the joker.

[olderthannetfic]

I'm a big mpreg and A/B/O fan who is wondering if anyone else has noticed the weird anti-abortion attitudes in a lot of mpreg and a/b/o? Like where you're "2000s Hollywood movies" levels of characters not even CONSIDERING abortion as an option for unwanted pregnancies (in a universe where this is possible and safe, and where it doesn't make sense with the character's characterization). I get why for plot reasons, abortion isn't as satisfying an end to a certain kind of pregnancy story as having the baby, same as it is in movies that do it. But you can write a character considering abortion and deciding not to get one in a way that doesn't make the option seem horrible and unthinkable or otherwise stigmatize it.

Or the number of people who seem to think abortion is such an inherently "traumatizing" topic that they need to content-warn for even a vague, offhand mention of it. It's one thing if it's graphic surgery or something - I'd probably want a head's up for that no matter what it was, at least in a story where I didn't see it coming - but just mentioning it at all? Abortion is a routine, safe medical procedure in places where it's legal. If you're doing warnings with abortion and no other medical procedures, you're reinforcing the anti-choice idea that abortion is inherently upsetting and sad. It's reinforcing abortion stigma. I've met many, many more people who've had abortions who felt happy about it and wish they could say that without having people treat them like a murderer, than I have people who had the "post-abortion regret" that anti-choice organizations talk about, and my experiences are supported by basically all the statistics about this that aren't from anti-choice political lobbying groups. It's especially egregious when people do this over an early, fully-elective (and legal and safe) abortion - a thing where patients having triggering kind of trauma is so low as to be statistically insignificant - but don't do it over related topics that genuinely contribute to a lot of PTSD, like miscarriage, infertility, adoption, and even fucking child death!!!!! I saw a fic that mentioned ALL of those things in someone's inner monologue considering what he should do about an unexpected pregnancy, but only the abortion part got warned for! Maybe some of that sounds nitpicky, but I personally know people who read fanfiction who like warnings for discussion of infertility/miscarriage because they have a lot of stress and trauma over unsuccessfully trying to have a child, and don't want to be reminded of that in their happy place.

It feels like a thing that's oddly underdiscussed when people talk about things in mpreg and a/b/o that would be kind of questionable to these same authors if they were to encounter it in stories about pregnancy where the character is a woman (like the stories where simply having a working uterus means you are inherently more nurturing or less ambitious or sweeter, or where getting pregnant suddenly makes you like that no matter how you were before). But if anything it's more common. I have to assume a lot of it's because a lot of people writing these were raised with more conservative ideas about abortion and then changed their minds, but didn't really question everything their upbringing taught them about abortions being always tragic or something that you should only do in extreme circumstances or whatever. Something you often see on Tumblr discourse about abortion, too, where people who claim to be "pro-choice" will come u with a list of reasons (disability, gender, just not feeling it, etc.) why it's "not okay" to get an abortion - not getting the point that forcing someone to carry a pregnancy they don't want is a violation of their body autonomy regardless of their "reasoning." The ableist woman who doesn't want a disabled baby still doesn't deserve have to a pregnancy forced upon her by the state!

I have to wonder if it's more noticeable to me because i wasn't raised that way at all, I had pro-choice leftist feminist parents.

Anyway long story short, I've never agreed with the anti take that mpreg or a/b/o are inherently sexist or anything like that. A lot of it is nothing like this! But it's common and I have to wonder if something working within a medium that's considered to be queerer and more progressive sometimes leads people to expose more of these attitudes than they might otherwise. Kind of like how you see a lot of weird sex-negativity in queer and fandom communities because people think merely being queer and in fandom means they can't be conservative, but they haven't actually questioned underlying sex-negative attitudes they have.... and so you get them being susceptible to anti and "kinks don't belong at pride" and such.

It's not inherently sexist, but I'm not sure it's inherently progressive, either? Not that it has to be. But I think my patience for anti-abortion stigma is, given recent big world events, at its absolute nadir lol

(sorry this is so long! guess i had more to say about this than i thought)

--

Too much American culture, maybe? IDK.

My mother considered abortions to be about like having the doctor remove a tick. I too find a lot of people's pearl clutching bemusing.

I always find it embarrassing in that bad writing OOC way when people don't include abortion where it makes sense or treat it as a Big Deal where it wouldn't be to that character.

However, I do usually expect mpreg fic to be kinking on "Ohhh nooo, now we have to stay together for the baby!" nonsense fantasies. It's one reason I dislike most of it. Given that, I wouldn't read too much into the plague of conservative anti-abortion vibes.

The fandoms that do more with A/B/O world building (giving the betas an actual role, etc.) tend to have more fic where they consider or even get abortions though.

[autistichalsin]

Do you ever just... think about how Halsin's life at the Grove was not only lonely and full of pressure, but also so full of expectations that the image Halsin had to cultivate of himself was nothing like who he was?

Everyone at the Grove only seemed to know of him as a leader, scholar, healer, and powerful Druid. In truth, he hated the first, understood the importance of the second but did not actually enjoy it, was proud of the third but again, didn't consider it part of his identity, and rarely acknowledged the fourth as anything but a way to serve nature.

Even in the way they addressed him it quickly became clear it wasn't who he was. Halsin NEVER shows any comfort using the title of "Master Halsin"; it was a title the others used for him that he reluctantly went along with. The instant he leaves the Grove, he never uses it again. He's just Halsin.

He may have been fond of some of the Druids at the Grove, and most of the others were fond of him right back (hell, even Kagha, if she is pushed away from the Shadow Druids, and then learns that Halsin perished in the goblin pen, laments that she will really miss him)... but none of them saw him. What they saw was a mask he had to wear, a role he had to play, because he had to. Because he was forced to and no one wanted the role back. (And seriously, he was desperate to give it up. It took his Grove nearly being taken over by the Shadow Druids and Halsin having to leave to help end a potentially world-ending threat for them to agree to send a replacement. You can't tell me the guy didn't try to pawn the position off before, only for his Circle to say "no".)

The refugees see him as a protector (which he is) but as the leader, as the most powerful one. The Druids see him as a lot of things- a leader, good or bad; some see him as weak and a failure, others see him as beyond a reproach and someone to put on a pedestal; they see him as the BEST healer of all, the most POWERFUL Druid they know, the SMARTEST, the STRONGEST, an "elf with the presence of a bear"...

But the one thing he can't be around them is "just Halsin."

He couldn't even trust any of them with the full truth when he discovered the altered tadpole; Nettie had suspicions, but he didn't tell her the full truth, he immediately swore off telling Kagha with the reasoning that she would demand answers he couldn't provide (expecting too much from him), and in fact, he was so worried about this that he split his notes into two.

So then along comes the player, who first finds him in an extremely vulnerable position- being tortured by goblins. Halsin says in as many words that he didn't think anyone was coming for him. Halsin didn't think the people he was charged to lead and protect cared enough for him to mount a rescue mission- and he was tragically right. (Granted, for some it was a matter of fear, inexperience, etc, but the fact remains.) The player rescues him, treats him as an equal despite this (and that's what he wants, he wants to be an equal with some expertise to share, not a leader), helps him to correct what he sees as the biggest mistake of his life, possibly pursues a romantic relationship with him where they are kind enough to not even hold it against him where he loses control of his powers and accidentally polymorphs during sex, and, in the newly added post-Drow scene, offers him guidance and counsel on something he's been unable to talk about for over 100 years, admitting that he lost perspective on it for just this reason. He had no peers and was forced into a leadership role so stressful that it made him romanticize his past as a sex slave in his own head because he was that desperate to not be responsible for the wellbeing of others, to not be relied on- even if the alternative was being treated as literal property and his autonomy repeatedly violated. That's how desperate he was.

Halsin's entire arc is how he's been lonely and isolated, always in different ways, but still the same thing. Misunderstood and scorned for his size, or kept as a prisoner, or with few friends, or losing his peers, or being forced into a leadership role with no equals or friends to take care of him, or so focused on his leadership duties that the chance to have a family (which he wanted desperately) passed him by... just one thing after another.

And then people wonder why he falls in love with the player so fast. The player is literally EVERYTHING he has been wishing for for over 100 years, not just in the romantic sense, but for everything. All he wanted was someone who would let him be HIMSELF, no pressures or responsibilities he was woefully unequipped to fulfill.

[cripplecharacters]

Hi! I’m in the early stages of character development and am thinking of making a character in my story use crutches or some type of mobility aid (I have not decided a specific disability yet, or the specifics of their mobility aids, but one disability I am considering is EDS).

There is going to be action in the story that will require characters to be moving a lot, and running, and fighting, etc.

I wanted to ask if you have any tips for writing physically disabled characters in these types of situations? What are ways to make them be able to participate in the action but also be mindful of their disability?

Also, if the character fully consents to it, would it be ok for another character to pick them up and run in a dangerous situation where they need to get away fast?

Thank you!

Hello!

It would really depend on the character's disability and what mobility aids they use.

Depending on how severe theirs is, somebody with EDS may be able to run and fight with the right accommodations on their end (Braces can help with stabilizing their joints and preventing hyperextension, pain medication can help control pain/discomfort, proper first aid and care afterwards can help manage swelling/pain/further damage, etc.).

If your character isn't able to participate in the fighting at all, give them something else to do that uses their other talents! Give them an important mission or task while the others are fighting. Maybe they need to retrieve an important piece of evidence while their opponents are distracted by the fighting. Maybe there's an important code to break or a puzzle to solve in the meantime. Just don't have them be standing off to the side awkwardly -- make them as important as everyone else is.

Something I find enjoyable, especially in books, is a character using their cane in a fight in a small way. This is usually something like the character using it to trip an opponent or using it to smack somebody's shin. Depending on the type of cane they use, it may not be the most realistic, but I do enjoy it and it makes me cackle :). That being said, you do need to be careful with showing mobility aids being used as weapons.

In terms of being carried, it's really hit or miss. I've seen it done well a few times and -- more frequently -- I've seen it done in ways that still makes me physically cringe when I think about it.

If it's used to further an underlying plot such as a developing romance or friendship between the two characters, I think it can be a sweet way to show the development of trust between them and -- if it's part of a romance -- can lead to a cute scene later on.

My personal issue with it is when it comes out of the blue and is out of character for one or both parties. Most people wouldn't be comfortable with a stranger or an acquaintance picking them up and carrying them. Hell, a lot of people would even be uncomfortable with a good friend doing it. I certainly would be.

There's also the fact that carrying another human being is a hard thing to do, especially if you're running and (Caps) ESPECIALLY (End Caps) if you're running for a while. If the disabled character is rather light or small and the other character is very physically fit, maybe it can work on a physical scale but there's other things to consider here.

This is also a bit of a loaded trope for physically disabled characters. A lot of us are used to people -- particularly strangers -- violating our body autonomy. There are people that will push wheelchair users or attempt to "guide" blind people to where they want to go, reach directly over the heads of little people, touch or take mobility aids, etc. This isn't necessarily what's happening in your story, but it is something to be aware of.

If you do decide to go with this, make sure to see it through and address anything that may come from it. How does your disabled character feel about it? How has the dynamic between your characters changed -- if at all? If it hasn't changed at all, why is that? Do the characters feelings towards each other change?

I'd also consider what other options they may have. Is there another way to escape the dangerous situation? Is there somewhere they can hide? Is there a way to face the threat head-on? Is there another way they can escape without the disabled character being carried? If not, why?

The biggest thing I can say it to keep your disabled audience in mind. Who are you writing this scene for? What's the purpose of the scene? If the scene's purpose has anything to do with making the non-disabled character look good, show them to be strong/heroic/brave/etc., don't do it. Find another way.

Cheers,

~ Mod Icarus

[butts-bouncing-on-the-beltway]

Role call. Who on Tumblr was politically active during the Free Tibet years?

I'm going to establish this post as an anchor space to have a conversation about the Lessons we learned from Free Tibet and how we may or may not be effectively applying those lessons to our work around Free Palestine as a current socio-political banner.

If you were alive, aware, and involved during Free Tibet's groundswell into and out of the public eye, your stories, reflections, and thoughts are welcome. This goes doubly for perspectives within the movement such as the experience of seeking and obtaining allyship/solidarity from the international community as some living in or with family in Tibet, ground work in organizing the dustribution of funds, resources, or resistance, publicity and public awareness/consciousness, etc.

I'll start. I was (admittedly) young when this was happening, but already had been engaged and involved for a year or two in politics more broadly. I had been working with the UUA youth programming on a variety of community initiatives when a delegate of ministers traveled to meet with the Dalai Lama and several Tibetan activist communities both in their home mountains and abroad in exile. They've done this quite a few times over the years, before and since this particular delegation. One of the ministers who worked with us attended. He was gone for 18months sabbatical/spiritual and social development work on the trip, and when he came back, he led the district's interfaith activist groups through dozens of trainings and salon conversations to help us understand what he'd learned and what he wanted US to learn.

He came away with [and invited us to come away with] a few major foundations

1) any act of imperialism or colonization is a cause for profound and expansive grief. In fact the grief itself was part of the point because until we see the suffering of every person on earth as a violation of and offense to the humanity of EVERY person on earth, we will struggle to hold ourselves accountable for our own complicity.

2) complicity can be coerced, and that is always the accountability of the coercive authority structure, not the accountability of the individuals being coerced. This is not mutually exclusive with the need to repair the harm done to a community following coerced complicity as a form of reintegration into the healing process of a fractured social order.

3) we needed to operate with two paths of possibility - diasporic and indigenous. Ultimately, the preservation of a people, their culture, their humanity, their communities, is a complex one with very few guarantees. Every effort should be made to answer the intracommunal calls to action that are being made so as to ensure that on the micro/mezzo level (individuals, families, and small regional communities in particular) people are able to self-direct towards a diasporic-mobile preservation path or an indigenous-remaining preservation path as best suits their needs in the moment, and that a diasporic-return path is being established and maintained as effectively as possible (erosion of this path should be considered a warning sign of high risk actions being taken against the indigenous-remaining [coerced/autonomous] population). The goal, this minister explained, was always to preserve access to autonomy on both the individual and communal level, and that sometimes this would look like things we didn't understand or didn't want to understand as victory. As long as it came with the community in need at the helm, it was our job to wrestle with that possibility proactively rather than risk imposing our own needs-assessment on them. [Disclaimer: this came in the wake of concerns around the possible death of the Dalai Lama's reincarnation and heir being selected/identified by an imperial assembly rather than by the existing Tibetan process of identification, and specifically in the wake of the Dalai Lama's statements that all, even his own role, must one day end which had incited many difficult conversations around the world]

4) resistance was both an imperative and an active tense verb, meaning that any of us engaged in resistance needed to be in real conversation with others about it or we were NOT in fact resisting anything

5) slogans are catchy, but they can't be all you have. It is too easy to say the same words as others while acting against them, both intentionally and unintentionally.

I really was present in the tail end of this work's public prominence, and while I have done my best to stay aware since my initial exposure, I lack some of the necessary current reflections on the experience from various people and perspectives. Others who were engaged and involved, especially if it has remained in your primary focus of activism, what were your lessons so to speak and how have you grown or developed your approaches in response?

[versaphile]

Considering tristamp Vash’s feelings about his plantness compared to trimax Vash. I don’t think trimax Vash had any real engagement with his powers prior to Knives forcing them out of him in July. And then once that happened, trimax Vash is just incredibly upset by any manifestation of his powers until the whole escape from the Ark where he finally gains control over them and uses them defensively with intent. Which makes sense. Aside from the initial traumas of Tesla and The Big Fall, it seems like Vash just kinda hung out for however many decades. First with Knives, then with humans, and like, he actually allowed himself to become part of the fabric of communities (Ship 3, July). Aside from being functionally immortal and able to commune somewhat with dependent plants, he was basically just a human. His interaction with plants is limited, and what we do see is generally centered on helping humans.

But Tristamp Vash is such a different kettle of fish. First there’s the stronger contrast between him and Knives, with Knives being far more plant-like than Vash and that being a source of conflict between them. And then right after TBF he learns he does have plant abilities. He can help/heal dependent plants, which is enormously powerful and earns him a place in the human community. And then the more dramatic discovery of his drain arm, which of course he promptly loses. So like, that’s a LOT to process for him. He had this part of himself he had no idea about and it was super dangerous but it’s already gone, so— ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ And he clearly spends the next 140-odd years going around helping his sisters as his main thing. Like, he also enjoys being with humans very much. He cares for both groups. But he isn’t just hanging out like any human. He has a real purpose in taking care of all the plants all over NML. And there’s no way 140+ years of regular interactions with plants and this power doesn’t change his perspective compared to Trimax Vash.

And not only that, but Tristamp Vash apparently had no idea about this Core thing which could be considered either connected to his other powers or as a third power. So that’s thrown at him, but even though it’s tangled up in uhhhh the whole JuLai fiasco, once all that is unlocked, he bounces right back up, embracing his full strength, the wing, uses his powers to make plant bullets (and making a prosthetic angel arm), the whole deal that Trimax Vash took until the very end of the manga to achieve. And I think a big part of his ability to do that is the 140+ years of embracing his plantness, not ignoring it or denying it. Tristamp Vash is just so much more connected to that part of himself, despite his complicated feelings due to Tesla and Knives, and the general threat humans represent to his autonomy and freedom.

Tristamp Vash does hide his true nature from people (wisely so given his off-the-charts value as a plant that can heal plants), but the bounty is a new thing at the start of Stampede, he hasn’t been forced out of human society like Trimax Vash. Being the planet’s itinerant plant engineer has probably made him everyone’s favorite cryptid. Clearly there’s still chaos in his life, as far back as Rollo he has his Stampede/Typhoon reputation. But it’s a gentler one than post-July Trimax Vash starts his story with. The destruction of Juneora Rock is what starts to darken Tristamp Vash’s rep, cemented by JuLai.

And JuLai is very different from July in so many ways. July was an almost completely involuntary action on Trimax Vash’s part, Knives made everything happen and the only part that didn’t go to his plan was Vash pointing the angel arm at him, and while Vash puts the blame on himself he’s not a reliable narrator for it. JuLai, meanwhile, while it still had a lot of Knives violating the heck out of Vash, Vash was able to fight back and come very close to salvaging the entire situation up until the very end. And Knives put himself in the way of the destruction this time, while Vash begged him to stop and save himself.

Vash will of course 100% blame himself for JuLai because that’s what he does, it’s how he copes. And his failure to safely get rid of that energy cube probably feels like more of a direct responsibility, direct guilt, than Trimax Vash maybe kinda pulling the trigger on the angel arm that Knives had really already fired. More relevant is the fact that while Vash’s powers were what caused the explosion, they’re several steps removed from it. It wasn’t Vash’s body that turned into a gun against his will and swallowed JuLai, with all the body horror that provides. Vash reclaimed his self and agency from Knives, put the energy into the cube to stabilize it, tried to get it out, tried to save JuLai and Knives, and it was a direct struggle between the twins that kept Vash from getting all the energy safely into space. Vash is obviously devastated as Ericks, there’s no way he wouldn’t be devastated at having even a fraction of the responsibility for so much destruction and death. But I don’t see why he would feel the way Trimax Vash feels about being a plant and his powers. It’s just a totally different dynamic.

For Trimax Vash, his identity as a plant represents trauma and loss of agency. For Tristamp Vash, his feelings are complicated but overall his identity as a plant enables him. It gives him purpose, belonging, strength. Trimax Vash is more emotionally aligned with humans because he feels more like a human. Tristamp Vash loves humans but I think he does accept himself as a plant to a significant degree. Tristamp Vash’s greater conflict is being stuck between humanity and plants in terms of the survival of both species. He wants to save both but the best he can do is keep everyone alive until he can’t anymore. That’s devastating to him in a totally different way. I think Tristamp overall is far more focused on survival for entire groups instead of the survival of individuals via pacifism vs killing. Tristamp Vash has a bigger worldview than Trimax Vash, who ignores the bigger picture to overly focus on individuals as a source of hope. Trimax Vash wants to save everyone but Tristamp Vash wants to save EVERYONE. Trimax Vash’s pacifism is driven by his Tesla trauma and subsequent suicide attempt/Rem’s efforts to help him. Tristamp Vash’s savior complex is driven by his Big Fall trauma.

[aliusfrater]

thinking about this scene and ruby's choice of words in the sentence, "your appetite's gotten much bigger," and how it feels like something a mom tracking the growth of her newborn would say and while, yes, there's the immediate double meaning of their relationship and the fact that ruby is grooming sam into the perfect vessel for lucifer, not just physically but she's also grooming his willpower out of him through both addiction and a similar kind of control/relationship dynamic that dean has over sam, but only to an extent that manipulates sam into thinking he still has control over himself and replacing it with a kind of complacency that you would typically find in any relationship that can be described as provider and their ward, there's also the overhanging dynamic of mother and son. the choice of ruby's words mirroring that of a mother's takes the physical substance of her demon blood out of a role that's just physical and mental relief for an addict or just a source of/perpetuation of power and into a role of a substance that is not only nurturing and nutritious but also necessary; there's an indirect comparison between demon blood and breast milk. this is crucial to sam's relationship with demon blood as a substance:

azazel describes his blood as being 'better than mother's milk' when the origin of sam's power, something that is now inherently tied to his motivations and agency as a character, is revealed to have been as a result of the being sam and his family have been hunting all along, the being that killed his mother. there's an intrinsic link between azazel feeding sam his blood and ruby's relationship with sam with how they relate to each other as metaphors for childhood sexual assault. there's another angle added to this when it's revealed that mary is the one that had originally let azazel into their home and that john had known this about sam but chose to keep the information from him. there's also the idea that ruby had originally coerced sam into having sex with her, inherently relating their sexual relationship and demon blood to one another and placing it at the forefront of their seemingly collaborative relationship. there's also more to consider when you relate the idea of azazel possessing samuel's body to bargain with and ultimately kiss mary — an act of almost explicit incest that had transpired through coercion — to the metaphor of childhood sexual assault as well the idea that mary named sam after her father, the same man whose body was used to violate her and, by proxy, violate sam's

this kind of fuels my idea of sam as a nucleus character when it comes to the exploration of the inherent rot of/within the nuclear family; there's an existing atmosphere and set of relationship dynamics that basically ensures that he will be assaulted and violated in some way or another over and over again. in 1.06 skin he tells his college friend, "anyway, what can i do? it’s my family," as a conclusionary sentence to his absence at school and why he takes part in hunting and i think that's a pretty perfect encapsulation of how childhood abuse, particularly sexual abuse, goes unnoticed or without intervention. it's their family so they either don't report or bring attention to it at all either because they don't want to hurt their family or because they think it's normal. it's their family so even if they do report or bring attention to it, it's dismissed because it's their family. it makes this all the more satisfying that he's referring to hunting here, the family business, because hunting is the ultimate metaphor for rot within the nuclear family in supernatural. hunting has provided the ultimate atmosphere for sam's bodily and mental autonomy to be violated over and over again; it's also quite literally his fate to be violated by lucifer and the power azazel violated his body to give him propels him further and further into this fate first under the guise of genuine agency then once again through the same genuine guise of agency but accompanied by a more prevalent force of abuse

[hyperlexichypatia]

One time, when I was younger, I had an unpleasant encounter with an (apparently neurotypical) older man who wouldn't take "no" for an answer.

Now, I was fine. But I was scared.

Not so much because I was afraid the man would come after me -- although given the statistics around violence against women who refuse men's advances, that would be an entirely reasonable fear -- but because I was afraid that someone would find out what had happened.

Because, you see, if someone found out that I had been assaulted, I would be a Vulnerable Young Girl.

And the thing about being a Vulnerable Young Girl is that it doesn't matter if you said "yes" or "no."

It's not necessarily that people would have sided with my assailant -- this is a different flavor of rape culture. Most people would have agreed that what my assailant did was wrong. But they would have considered it equally wrong -- maybe more wrong -- if he were my chosen, consensual boyfriend I actively wanted to be with.

Because his crime was not disregarding my "no" and violating my bodily autonomy. His crime was Taking Advantage of a Vulnerable Young Girl. Preying on a Vulnerable Young Girl. Corrupting a Vulnerable Young Girl.

If you're a Vulnerable Young Girl, you don't have the right to say "yes," which means you don't really meaningfully have the right to say "no" either. You need to be Protected, and, of course, you don't have the right to say "no" to that, either.

And, look, once again, I was fine. I'm making the specific assault sound worse than it was. That's not the point. I wouldn't mention it at all, except that The Discourse is such that if you don't disclose a relevant personal experience, you're assumed to Not Care About Real People. But I am not alone in this.

I've heard multiple instances of the specific scenario "I was assaulted in college but I didn't report it because my parents would have made me leave school." Or "I was date raped and didn't report it because then my family would have never let me go out again." Or "I'm a psychiatric survivor and if I reported being assaulted I'd be put back into treatment."

These are real things I've heard or read assault victims say.

Framing assault victims as Vulnerable Young Girls actively discourages victims from reporting assaults.

Yet the people who use this framing seem to think it's somehow necessary to get assaults taken seriously, even though it does the opposite.

Feminists largely understand this when it's in the context of purity culture. When people say, "In purity culture, it doesn't matter if you say 'yes' or 'no,' sexual assault and consensual sex are considered equally bad, and that underlying premise minimizes the actual wrongdoing of sexual assault, discourages assault victims from reporting their assaults, and allows assailants to get away with their crimes," this is understood as a problem.

But the Vulnerable Young Girls framing comes from self-identified feminists. Who think they're helping. In the name of feminism and justice. They don't understand why being framed as a Vulnerable Young Girl would make a woman reluctant to come forward, because the coercive control she would be subjected to "isn't punishment". They're seemingly baffled by why young and/or disabled women don't want to be framed as Vulnerable Young Girls, even if they've been assaulted. Especially if they've been assaulted. Why are you so offended when we say that your wishes for your own body don't matter?

And... why? Why is this framing necessary? What is the purpose? What is the benefit?

If you hear about someone committing sexual assault against a young and/or disabled woman -- without her consent, against her will, disregarding her "no" -- what, exactly, are you trying to accomplish by jumping in and saying "Even if she said yes, that's still predatory! He's still Taking Advantage of a Vulnerable Young Girl!"?

What is the purpose of saying that?

If a young and/or disabled woman chooses a sexual and/or romantic relationship that you think is "bad for her," and you proclaim "Just because she agreed to it doesn't make it okay! It's still wrong!" -- well, I vehemently disagree with you, but at least you're responding to the actual situation that exists.

But if you hear about an assault, against the victim's will, without her consent, and feel the need to denounce the counterfactual scenario in which it was a consensual encounter... what are you even trying to accomplish? Is the sole purpose just to convey to the victims (and any other assault survivors and/or young and/or disabled women in the vicinity) "I need to make it unambiguously clear that my objection to this assault has nothing to do with the violation of your bodily autonomy. I actively do not care about that."?

[queenoftheferns]

Harley, Woodrue, and The Green: An in-depth analysis of Poison Ivy (2022)

(Discalaimer: This is an analysis of vol. 1 -issues 1-6- of the Poison Ivy series by G Willow Wilson, and it doesn’t take any later events into account. This is also over 2,400 words long so buckle up)

Hi!! I watched a video on how to analyse things and was inspired- I loved the first bit of Poison Ivy’s series and had a lot of fun going super in-depth into the writing, symbolism and psychology of Poison Ivy.  So let’s get into it! 

First, to make things easier, I’m going to assign some new meanings to the words “change” and “transformation”.  Although this is not how these words usually work, in this analysis “change” refers to the way you choose to evolve. Change comes from within yourself and is never something forced. “Transformation” on the other hand, is something done to you by someone/something else. It is a violation of your personal autonomy and it erases your identity with a new one deemed as “better” by the other person’s standards. Now. Back to Ivy.

Transformation: What it means to Ivy

This theme appeares a lot in Ivy’s story. Her first instance of transformation is with Woodrue who experiments on her- transforming her body and mind against her will. He’s the one who first introduces this concept of “out with the old- in with the new”- something we end up seeing a lot of in Ivy’s ideology. “Nature is not sentimental” Woodrue says, “the strong consume the weak… this is the virtuous cycle.” The fact that “Virtuous Cycle” is the title of Vol. 1 should tell us a bit about how much Ivy has carried these ideas with her (more on that later).

[ID: A picture from the comic depicting Ivy's flashback to Woodrue's experiment. Narration: "She thinks it's going to kill her." Woodrue: "Nature is not sentimental. The strong consume the weak and then excrete them to fertilize the earth. That is the virtuous cycle. Consume. Digest. Renew." /end ID]

Like many villains (and heroes for that matter), she draws a clear line between her two identities. In her eyes, the identity of “Pamela Isley” represents everything wrong with humanity: she’s shortsighted and can’t see the bigger picture beyond her own emotions and she failed to acheive her goals because of her human need for love and validation. The identity of “Poison Ivy,” however, has embraced her transformation and has let her old identity be completely eradicated. Ivy isn’t human, she’s Greater, More Than human. She can see the bigger picture, the one humans could see if they weren’t so wrapped up in their silly mortal relationships. Poison Ivy is untouchable. 

Until she’s not. Until her body is transformed against her will once again at the end of “Fear State,” but this time not into something stronger or greater. Although Ivy’s anger at Harley (issue #1) is in no way justified, it makes a little more sense when you consider how reminiscent this is of her backstory: changed forever against her will by the actions of someone she loves, cutting her off from her relationships (with Woodrue her green skin and powers/pheremones cut her off from humans, with Harley and Gardner she was cut off from her relationships with plants and the Green), and destroying all of her ideas for what her future would look like. 

[ID: A picture from the comic where Ivy is losing her green skintone and preparing to drink the vial of Ophiocordyceps Lamia. Narration: "Every day I lose a little more of the power of Queen Ivy. Soon enough I'll be back to my old self. As the invincible parts of me die away. But there is one last chance to salvage something from all this. One final opportunity to carry out the will of the Green..." /end ID]

Of course Harley didn’t know that would happen and had just wanted to save her girlfriend, but she, and the readers, can also understand how triggering and painful it must have been for Ivy and that it’s realistic for her to lash out at first. What Harley doesn’t see is this: That Ivy’s spent years hating her past self and seeing Pamela Isley as the epitome of human weakness- and now she’s her again. From here on out, Pamela’s views of humanity as a whole are directly related to her view of herself. She thinks that humans aren’t essential to the environment, so she tells Harley “you saved the parts of me that didn’t mtter”.  She beleives all of humanity must die via the Opiocordyceps Lamia, and although she makes an exception for Harley she doesn’t make one for herself. In her conversation with dream Harley, what they say (“It’s not too late to fix a mistake.”/“I wish that were true.” etc.) could be applied to either humanity as a whole or to Ivy’s view of herself as broken and unfixable. And, as her view of herself evolves, her view of humanity evolves with it. 

[ID: Image one. Ivy and Harley are having an argument after Ivy has lost her connection to the Green. Harley: "We were trying to save your life!" Ivy: "You saved the parts of me that didn't matter!" Image two. A shot of a man consumed by the Ophiocordyceps Lamia. Narration: "Sucking up every resource on this planet until all that's left is a ball of superheated concrete. The only way to save this beatiful marble is to get rid of us. Every one of us. Even me. Because there is only one person who deserves all this beauty. And that's you." /end ID]

To carry out her new plan, Pamela goes “back to the beginning” and steals the Opiocordyceps Lamia from Jason Woodrue. It’s clear she still feels that she needs something from Woodrue in order to be Poison Ivy- after all, he’s her creator. Her breakup with Harley and her plans going forward seem to have grown from her desperate desire to prove that she’s still not entirely human, and won’t make human mistakes. In the first few issues, we get the sense that she would (at this point in her story) rather die than be Pamela Isley again. For her, escaping Pamela Isley means embracing the ideology of the man that killed her. Of course, Ivy doesn’t see it that way, but it’s not hard for us to see in the way she attempts to transform the other humans against their will like what Woodrue did to her. Watching the human’s shock and betrayal fade into awe that the beauty of the Green is reminiscent of how Ivy herself learned to love her connection to the Green despite the pain of her original transformation.

[ID: A scene from the comic where Janet is talking with Ivy while being consumed by the Ophiocordyceps Lamia. Narration: "Janet is part of something else now. Part of the life cycle of this riverbank." Janet: It's so beautiful. So clean. Like starting over." Ivy: "Right? Now you can see it too." Janet: "I want to see everything like you see. Take me with you. I don't want to go back to... to that." /end ID]

She also inherits Woodrue’s view of the natural world as something detatched from humanity with no room for human kindness and love (JW: “Nature is not sentimental”/PI: “Nature isn’t cruel, just efficient”). The same way Ivy unknowingly spreads Woodrues ideology, she is also unknowingly spreading his mind control virus in the form of Opiocordyceps Lamia. Throughout the story, transformation is a force of evil, violating someone’s autonomy in an attempt to make them a vessel for something greater. Yet the creator can never really control what people transform into…

Change: What it means to Ivy

Change is never on the table for Ivy. She is transformed by Woodrue and in turn tries to transform the planet and humanity. In every instance, whether it be about society or Ivy herself, her mindset is always that change is too late. Our life courses are set in stone by our own nature unless we are transformed by some greater force. This is why Ivy seeks out Woodrue after losing her connection to the Green, and why she is so focused on following the “will of the Green” rather than doing what she wants to. She doesn’t trust herself to make the right decisions (she’s been wrong too many times) so instead she wants some Other Force to transform her into someone who doesn’t make human mistakes. This rejection of change and worship of transformation was the basis of Ivy’s ideology. Until…

…Harley Quinn! Seeing Harley in this comic always brings with it a mild sense of disbelief. She seems so out of place within the comic’s mood and aesthetic… and I realized that it’s for a good reason. Harley Quinn is the epitome of change, she’s multifaceted and unpredictable and her path in life is never fixed. First she was going to become a gymnast, but then she was a psychologist, but then she fell in love with the Joker, but then she left him, but then she went back, and just when you think you see a pattern, when you think you know what she’ll do next, Harley does something else. She breaks up with the Joker for good, she falls in love with Ivy, they break up but not really, she starts to become a hero but her redemption arc itself is filled with messiness and unpredictability and all of it was her choice. Sure there was more than a little manipulation on the Joker’s part, but at the end of the day Harley chose to jump into that vat of acid— she wasn’t pushed.

[ID: Image one. A picture from the Gardener Files comic showing Ivy in a cell meeting Harley. Bella's Narration: "After years trapped in an echo chamber of her own dark thought, a woman was place in an adjacent cell. A young woman madle in love with a monster, trapped in a cycle of abuse. Harley Quinn." Image two. A scene from the end of the Fear State saga with Harley and Ivy talking. Ivy: "There's one more thing I need to to..." Ivy pulls Harley closer with vines. Harley: "Hoo-boy... Pammy... I know this is a lot to process and you don't like when I get all meddly... but I'm trying to be a good guy and save the city and junk-" Ivy: "Harley, stop talking." Harley: "Okay." The two kiss. Image three. Harley and Ivy from Ivy's dream in Poison Ivy (2022). Ivy: "I can't. I've gone to far to turn back now." Dream Harley: "It's never too late to fix a mistake." /end ID]

In every respect, Harley’s mere existence is the most persuasive argument against Ivy’s ideology. Although this might seem like a roadblock in their relationship, it’s actually the reson Ivy loves her so much. Harley’s ability to change is everything Ivy wishes humanity (and herself) could be. If more people were like Harley, not held back by societal norms and not paralyzed by the fear that it’s “too late” to change, then maybe Ivy could have more hope for humanity. (I can imagine Ivy, bored and self-righteous, meeting Dr. Quinzel for the first time, thinking she knows exactly what to expect from a young, naive psychologist. Then beginning to fall for Harley as she smashes Ivy’s expections again and again. That’s what a good joke is after all: building up an expectation and then subverting it. Anyways. Back to Ivy).

Ivy's Arc

Ultimately, Ivy/Pamela’s story is about her relationship to her own humanity, and the other characters’ role in the plot is to tug Pamela back and forth between two perspectives: Humanity (and by extension, Pamela) being irredeeamble and in need of a deadly transformation, vs humanity (and Pamela) having inherent value and being capable of changing and turning things around. Woodrue beleives that the only way to thrive in this dying world is to take advantage of the struggle around him to benefit himself. This is reflected in George Holloran, the boss at the packaging company Ivy works at for all of ten minutes (issue #4). Like Woodrue, he accepts the state of the world with no attempt to change anything, deciding to climb to the top of the hierarchy instead of trying to dismantle it. The guys at the bar (#1) also mirror this with their focus on satisfying their own desire rather than treat a woman with respect and (unlike Harley) do not stray even a little from Ivy’s expectations. They and Woodrue represent Ivy’s worst assumptions about humanity: that everyone is ruled by their own desire for power and pleasure and are incapable of changing or growing because of how society has shaped them. 

[ID: A panel of Jason Woodrue as Floronic Man. Woodrue: "This planet is too far gone to save, Pamela. It needs a revolution, but all it wants is a band-aid. So we might as well make millions selling band-aids." /end ID]

[ID: A scene where George Halloran is being consumed by the Ophiocordyceps Lamia. George: "It's just hard, you know? To be the boss. At first you want everybody to like you. Th-then you realize it doesn't work. They hate you anyway. Because you're all in the same system. And the system chews people up. S-so you start to do things you shouldn't because you start to hate them back. You f-figure out that fear is more effective than love. And that's... when it all... goes dark." /end ID]

On the other hand, however, are characters like Jesslyn and Timothy at the packaging company (#4), Carrie at the motel (#3), Jenny Bolger at the restaurant (#2), and of course, Harley Quinn. Other than Harley, all of these characters are people struggling to make meaningful change in the confines of their normal lives under capitalism. Whether it’s through art, human connection, or focusing on a small peice of earth you can control, these people show Ivy what change looks like. It’s not as flashy and sudden as Ivy’s plan to transform everyone, and these aren’t the kind of stories Ivy would’ve known about had she simply looked on the news. But the willingness of all these people to at least try to help the world and each other is enough to make Ivy question her assumptions on the fixedness of human nature. 

[ID: Two panels, one with Ivy and one with Carrie, the lady Ivy meets at the motel. Narration: "It's too early to make exceptions. Yet somehow, that's exactly what I find myself doing." Ivy: "-I don't want to get dirt all over you." Carrie: "Well. Suit yourself." /end ID]

When on her own, Ivy has no particular character growth, but when she is with these people, the good people, or when she has memories of Harley, those are the moments we see her grow and change. Ivy says she has faith in the world while working with Carrie, and her will to live comes back after sleeping with Jesslyn. And of course, everything always comes back to Harley, the love of her life. In the end, Ivy defeats Woodrue not because of her ideology but because he made the mistake of threatening Harley. This is the moment a lot of her developement has been leading up to. She’s lost all her powers, even the ones given to her by the Lamia. Like when she first became Poison Ivy, Woodrue has complete control over her body. Like before, she had trusted his science when she shouldn’t have. Manipulated, weak, and abandoned by the Green, there is barely anything left of Poison Ivy. She is almost entirely human. Almost entirely Pamela. Finally, she has no choice but to rely on her human instincts- her love for, and desire to protect, another human. And it works. Pamela Isley succeeded where Poison Ivy failed because of  her humanity- not in spite of it.

[ID: A scene with Ivy and Woodrue in the comic, Woodure is forcing Ivy to hold a knife to her own neck via the Ophiocordyceps Lamia. Narration: "-simply have to accept that you've failed. Your enemy has won. And no one is coming to help." Woodrue: "And then I'm going to track down your little blonde girlfriend. --And I'm doing to turn her inside out. Not for any scientific purposes. Just because I can." Narration: "But that's not what happened this time." /end ID]

This is what ultimately opens her eyes to how, actually, these human instincts and human desires are what’s going to save the world. Her desire to protect Harley is the same as her deisre to protect the planet, which is the same as Carrie’s drive to save the plot of land by the motel, which is the same as Jenny’s drive to create art, and Jesslyn and Timothy’s drive to reach out to others and support each other in a hostile environment. After meeting a child and sensing the ecosystems he contained, Pamela comes to the conclusion that “we are the Green”. She realizes that our humanity is a feature, not a bug. We were designed to be here, and to love and protect the world and people around us. It’s when some people deny their humanity (for personal gain like Woodrue, or fear and self-hate like Ivy) that we start causing harm. 

[ID: A scene from the comic where Ivy is picturing the faces of Jesslyn, Jenny and the nice guy from the restaurant. Narration: "Home. The only home any of us will ever have. Because nobody without billions of dollars to burn is going anywhere. And because-- after all-- we're not so bad. We can still gorw things. Gardens. Communities. Friendships. Against all odds. I realize, here at the end of everything, that I've been fighting the wrong people. Because it was easier. Easier than fighting the real enemies." /end ID]

[ID: A scene where Ivy is reaching out to a child who's handing her back her scarf. Narration: "--but when I look at this child, I see more than just one individual. We float in our own ecosystem of symbiotic bacteria. We exhale and the trees inhale. Billions of tiny organisms call our bodies home. To the microscopic beings alive on his skin, this child is the entire universe." Ivy: "...We are the Green." /end ID]

In eating Woodrue’s corpse (Iconic, by the way), she shows that she understands now that the blame for what he did to her lies with him, not her. In the end, she tells Harley that she “made me understand that we have to protect what is truly precious.” In other words, helped Ivy understand that protecting people is protecting the Green. She signs her name as “Pammy”, not “Ivy” or “Ives”. Maybe this is just because Harley calls her that, or maybe it’s because the identity of Pamela Isley has finally proven herself to Ivy.

[ID: A comic scene of Harley Quinn reading Ivy's letter (which is also the narration.) Narration/Letter: " --you've made me understand that we have to protect what is truly precious. I love you. And only you. Until the end of the world. No matter what. Always and forever, Your Pammy." /end ID]

If you read this far, THANK YOU!!! I love analysing stuff and hope to put out some more Poison Ivy analysis in the future. In the meantime, I really, really appreciate any comments, questions, or even disagreements. I would love nothing more than to have a conversation about Poison Ivy in the notes.

[bigshepherdrascalmug]

A quick analysis that I thought about on Akusuya based on Leo and Suya's chapters...

It's something that I forgot to mention is that, whenever it is a Leo chapter, Leo has the worst impressions of himself, and says he has done something wrong, even though either he regrets them and tries to improve and or has quite the good reasons for that; while Suya is literally just behaving the same way he just inquired wrong without any reason and or trying to stop herself whatsoever. Like in chapter 111 and 112 where he thought of himself as a stalker (even though he did that for justifiable reasons considering he has to keep her in check lol), while it was revealed in chapter 71 and more explicitly in chapter 143 that Suya's stalks him all the time just because she likes his smell and his room's smell; and or in this chapter when she gives him the wrong idea of what she actually wanted to do... I think that's a neat detail, and actually might be quite the hint that maybe, just maybe Leo internalized hate might be just a way he views himself that is completely different from the way Suya views himself... Notice that whenever somebody makes a mistake Suya is able to point it out, and is quite snarky; while when Leo does it she quickly tries to help him out and or justifies it, such like in the chapter where he interrogates Zastur, chapter 209, and, 153, 350 and 351 and others… 

One example of those behaviors are chapter 99 and 350-51.

(Notice how Leo is afraid of creatina a misunderstanding between the two of them, and right after Suya is the one that does that; and in chapter 351 he is afraid of touching her body or violating her autonomy or thinks that she is having the worst time of her life while she is playing in his tail and literally dresses in his body, once again DOING EXACTLY what he was afraid of doing).

Also, she is always saying how nice he is with her and many other things and in many instances seems to be extremely jealous of him too lol, also not caring much about personal boundaries, etc.

Chapter 112 and 281

In my opinion she has probably somewhat already realized she likes Leo very early on in the series... More specifically before chapter 71, like maybe around 48 - 55 around that time, maybe even before considering we have no idea when exactly she started going to his room, like if it's around chapters 48-55 to 143 than MAYBE she has been stalking him for more than a year or even like maybe 2 years; 

71 and 143, and 42. Considering Suya know exactly the MOMENT to catch Leonard's clothes, and she can actually mimick some of his behaviors really well as shown in 26? It might be fair to think she is been stalking him for a very long while now...

But notice how her behaviors in chapter 70, 71, and in another one where they actually have a pajama party, are very, and I mean very odd for her… (I can't find this chapter, but there is a chapter where Bussy?? And Harpy are in a pajama party with Suya and she is acting truly weird whenever they mention the Cleric incident, though notice that she never corrects herself when mentioning sleeping with somebody again, or ever stops coming to his room; if somebody knows what chapter it is to back up my evidence I would be glad lol).

Like, as if idk, she was really bothered by the thought that others might think she likes the Cleric? Who knows??

Also, considering Tumblr only accepts 10 photos per post, I will just say the chapters to notice things about and then you guys reread and pay attention to Suya's behaviors, and patterns and there is a lot going on in the background... Leo's narration is an UNRELIABLE ONE so it's not a good idea to go listening to him considering that every time he is proven to be wrong about Suya's feelings towards him...

Considering chapters like 310, 337, and many more and also chapter 71 as my one and most powerful proof of this Shipp to be canon in the end, I supposed that maybe Suya feels the same way towards Leo, whoever her being... You know, Suya... She doesn't quite know how to express it, I honestly think that Leo's feelings aren't exactly unrequited, just... You know... He is more going through somewhat of a 5 stages of grief regarding his love life, he is now, at this very moment going through the stages of denial to acceptance considering he is starting to have the courage to ask her out, etc... So yeah... Probably..?? But idk…

Besides if you guys notice it too in chapters such as 234, you might notice another interesting detail, Suya realizes that Kamosh is not Leo the moment he is around... Only stopping the act at the end, at least that's the impression I got, considering she is able to notice who he is quite quickly in per example the chapter where she is selling stuff lol; and in that chapter 234 Kamosh is very critical of Suya, saying she isn't quite the girl for Leo because she doesn't like him, and most likely sees him just as a friend or something of sorts... HOWEVER as soon as she says that he can't touch her hair because he isn't Leo, he suddenly changes his mind, and remember that besides not liking the idea of Leo liking Suya because she apparently doesn't seem to understand how he feels he also doesn't like the idea of him dating a human too.

Whoever that quickly changes once he views them together... Another thing is that Hypnos might be aware that Suya likes Leo too, considering chapter 221, Suya looks extremely happy in giving him a massage while also happy that he is giving her one, Hypnos told her that if she wanted one she needed to be quiet, and even though it wasn't quite the long massage she really appreciated it; AND in chapter 337 Midnight suddenly appears in the sky and helps Kamosh and Suya so, maybe he also knows what's up??... Anyways... I love to overanalyze stuff.

 

See chapter 234, 221 and 337 (for better understanding and notice Suya's and also the others reactions.

So logic comes this way: both Suya and Leo like each other but are afraid of rejection, Suya according to the chapters is mostly rejected no matter what she does, only in the end after she pushes his boundaries she is actually able to get closer to him, while whenever LEO is the one to invite her over or when something is for him she stops absolutely everything she is doing EVEN SLEEPING just for him, notice that pattern such like in chapters 79, 337, 55, 48, 289, and many, many more.

And some characters like Midnight, Hypnos and Kamosh already realized that, but aren't going to interfere much, mostly Kamosh and Hypnos will but only when they feel like it or if they notice that Leo needs their help somewhat.

Also, also another thing important to infer; Leo is the one that is mostly on his own mind, and is more aloof to the whole thing while Syalis is the one pursuing him; the chapters are mostly from Leo's perspective whoever if we analyze them correctly they come CLOSER to Syalis behaviors and thought process... So according to what we can infer from the manga…

So yeah, that's my case. Suya likes him back but is afraid of going after him because she probably thinks he is going to turn her down no matter what she does... Which kind of is true considering Leo's behavior of wanting everything under control and also in need of explanations for things that don't actually need one lol; which honestly also if that's the case, Suya isn't as wrong to think that way considering what happened at chapter 310, which was basically her wanting to go on a date with him, only for him to misinterpret her actions as herself wanting something in the human world dragging him alone and giving him more work lol (which honestly also understandable because she is INDEED a walking mass of destruction see chapter 130 for reference, he must’ve remembered that to be more specific.); at least that's how I see, if that's where it keeps on going, maybe the ending will be them together after all…