#misinformation. and then i mentioned that i do a lot of research into mental health stuff and i listed a bunch of things. which included | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

transfemlogan · 1 year

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EDIT: this post is old. Very old. And was very rushed because people kept asking me to post it. While it provides insight onto certain situations, like antiblackness or the lack of flashing lights for years, it doesn't fully go into depth about some of them (like DID & antisemitism) and only offers one opinion into most situations.

It's a great starting point or beginning into learning about certain situations and to begin your own questioning and analysis, but is not a """masterlist""" or a good, in-depth discussion on the things Thomas has done and contributed to.

Take everything in this post with a grain of salt. Take it with "I didn't know that, I will do more research" and if you discover the opposite of what this post is saying and disagree (or if you agree), then that is what I want to come out of this post. I do not want to you immediately take what I say at face value, even if I am/was "correct".

Okay, back to the original post:

Ok. Its been 2 days lets talk abt how thomas participates in anti-blackness, antisemitism, & ableism.

I do have links to almost everything mentioned here, but some of them I do not have. Whether that be because I am expressing an opinion other people have or because I could not find it.

Also, I have something called "aphasia". Some parts of this will be phrased wrong and/or difficult to read. (Look up aphasia I'm not explaining it here.)

If you are a person of colour and want to express your opinion about Thomas being racist, feel free. If you are jewish and want to express your opinion about Thomas being antisemitic, feel free. If you are disabled and want to express your opinion about Thomas being ableist, feel free. I am not trying to speak over anyone. I am a black disabled man talking about things Thomas has done and including my own opinions.

I do not think Thomas does any of this out of actively trying to harm people. This is not me "cancelling" him. This is not me telling you you cannot watch the series or whatever. I am explaining things he has done. You come to your own conclusion about this using critical thinking.

Here is a response by @/voxakumasbitch, along with my own addition, that provides clarity and a more critical response to this post.

Here is a response by @tsfander, that explains the misinformation & faults within the DID section of this post.

DO NOT TAG THIS POST AS FANDOM DISCOURSE.

Anti-blackness:

(note: if you, as a nonblack person, tries to tell me I am WRONG for saying this is racist and antiblack I will literally explode you with my mind. I am a black man, I know what is and is not antiblack & you cannot tell me what is and isnt. Dear god.)

Logan's vocab cards tend to be appropriation of AAVE (African-American Vernacular English), since it's based around what people assume is "internet slang" (for example, in Accepting Anxirty Part 1, Logan uses the phrase "You good, fam?" which is AAVE).

Another character of Thomas' that appropriates AAVE is Sleep, also referred to as "Remy" by fans, in his vines and shorts. This is because he is supposed to be a flamboyant gay man, but again, a lot white gay men appropriate AAVE from black gay men and queens (for example, "slay" is a term that people say came from queer culture, but it is a term that came from black queer culture).

Thomas made a Tik Tok talking about his roles in musicals. (I do not have this Tik Tok as I... do not have Tik Tok for mental health reasons and the idea of redownloading it is terrifying.) One (or multiple?) roles he talks about are ones of black characters. (I hope I don't have to explain how taking black roles in musicals is racist.)

The entire BLM Roman thing

During the height of the BLM protests back in 2020, a tumblr user (I will not say their user) drew a black Roman holding a trans flag. While this in itself is not racist, black people outside of the fandom (and in the fandom) expressed their discomfort with it. This art was later deleted, however their white mutual ended up creating art of black Roman angrily holding up his fist and it was captioned "I frantically drew this in a fit of rage." This user did not post about BLM before this, and also it's very weird to make a white character black to show your support of real black people being murdered.

Here is the post, along with an explanation of why this is racist by me (@/aleiimm) and my TSS mutual at the time (@/mvnte). Obviously, I do not condone the harrassment of this artist.

This sparked a weird """movement""" within the fandom where white fans, ignoring every black fander trying to explain how this is Racist, drew black roman holding up his fist. And because of this "movement", Thomas Sanders reblogged the original drawing, also ignoring every black fander. He later deleted this, without an apology or even a mention.

Here is a post by @/lamp-calm-sanders which explains it better.

(I do think this is a very big fandom problem, though Thomas contributes to it.)

Antisemitism:

This is specifically in relation to Janus Sanders' character being an antisemitic caricature. I have reblogged posts about this, but due to my awful tagging system, I couldn't find them.

(note: I am not jewish, this is me repeating what I have heard from jewish fans and my jewish friends outside of the fandom.)

I recommend finding actual jewish fans and their posts.

Obviously, making antisemitic caricatures is a lot more than just the traits you give the character. I think it's important to identify what was the original idea. In this case, Thomas meant to make a character based off of the "snake in the tree" from the Bible. I doubt he consciously meant to create an antisemitic caricature.

However, most antisemitism is unconscious. Most bigotry is. Just like how white people can be racist, even if they are actively trying not to— because racism spans over years and years— non-jewish people can be antisemitic unconsciously.

Janus is a greedy, selfish, lying half-snake character. There isn't a way to get around that. These traits on their own wouldn't necessarily be antisemitic, but combined they are.

Ableism:

This will the longest section.

In the ad "The Return of the Jam!", Roman refers to Logan Sanders as "Mr. Infodumper" negatively. (Janus also does this in Thomas' Among Us Patreon stream, if I remember correctly, though it is edited out of the YouTube video.)

As an autistic man, I dislike the use of this negatively, however, not every autistic person feels this way. I know autistic people who do not view this as ableist.

Virgil's crofters is named "Cranic Attack", based on on the word "panic attack". I do not have an anxiety disorder, though many people with anxiety disorders expressed their discomfort with this (and also many people said it was fine. Again. Not a monolith.)

Thomas Sanders does make an apology for this usage here (this link includes my response, @/gothybubby).

In this apology Thomas

one: claims that the term "infodump" is negative, which isn't true. The trait is not negative, but the way it is used by Roman (and Janus) is ableist.

two: claims that it is... the character's fault? "we were narratively depicting Roman to be in the wrong for saying it." Not a single character tells Roman off for this. It is not Roman's fault, he's a fictional character, it is the people AKA THOMAS who wrote the script.

And three: that Logan is going to get "vindication" for this. No one wants Logan to get VINDICATION, we want Roman to NOT be ableist.

Here is a response by now deleted user, @/suckerssides, and @/beeceit.

Here is a post by @/turneverybodyintopuppets

Dissociative Identity Disorder & systems

I do not have DID, this is, again, me repeating systems both in and out of the fandom. Also, again, lots of systems have different opinions about whether or not Sanders Sides is ableist towards systems.

I have a friend with DID who does not have Tumblr and is not in the fandom anymore who wants me to talk about this (this is also expressed in the tags of my reblog of my response to Thomas' apology).

I also have reblogged posts about this, but I couldn't find the ones I have reblogged that criticise this.

I recommend finding actual systems and their posts.

Sanders Sides closely resembles DID. Thomas talks about this in his video "Sanders Sides - BEHIND THE SCENES QNA" where he and Joan explains that they are not trying to represent DID, but a man and his singular (one) personality. Joan on their Tumblr made a post where they also talk about this (unable to find it, since their blog is deleted) and explained that they are trying to avoid using terms related to DID.

I know, for a fact, that thomas was going to make a video with systems to discuss DID and make sure to disconnect Sanders Sides from DID. This video was, obviously, never made. (I saw this being discussed in a discord by a system who was asked by Thomas to be in the video, but I am not a part of the discord anymore and I do not have this message.)

Still, it still resembles a system. People have express their discomfort with the sides having names for that reason. People have also expressed their discomfort with Thomas talking about the sides as if they are "real people" (unsure how to phrase this) since it makes it feel more like the sides being alters. For example, when Thomas made a tweet/instagram story where he stated "Logan has a new favourite book."

Here is a Youtube Video by The Entropy System that talks about Sanders Sides and DID

Here is a post by @/kiapet2 and my mutual @/aromanticpatton.

Here is a post by @/sticky7581

Flashing lights tagging

Thomas Sanders sucks as at tagging flashing lights. This is not an accidental, one-time thing. This is continous and has been a thing for years.

I need everyone to know that epilepsy and photosensitivity are serious. Seizures are serious and deadly. I have friends who have had seizures over his videos and I know fans who have bad seizures over his videos. Thomas Sanders and his team know that people have had seizures over his videos.

I have seen people say that he doesn't have to tag flashing and comparing it to trigger warnings. Trigger warnings are a different topic from flash warnings.

Thomas has struggled to tag flashing since 2018. This post by @/cisnesincorbata shows a timeline from 2018 to early 2021 of people sending asks to Thomas about it. I have also sent Thomas asks asking him to tag warnings, along with commenting it on his tweets.

Putting Others First was an episode that a lot of photosensitive people couldn't watch (I also know a lot of autistic people couldn't watch due to the noises and low hearing people couldn't understand Logan's voice). This video took almost a year to get a warning, and even then it is placed in the description, which is NOT a good place for a warning.

Thomas has gotten better at tagging, but this is still an issue that should be talked about. Forgetting is not a valid excuse when people's lives are on the line.

no TL;DR

Writing this post was the most difficult thing ever. If someone else wants to create a TL;DR, feel free, but I am currently out of spoons (look up spoon theory) and my aphasia is kicking my ass.

However, sometimes, things cannot have a TL;DR. Sometimes you have to take the time to read long ass things in order to understand. I acknowledge people have difficulty reading and comprehending things, especially if you are neurodivergent, but a lot of times this can be worked on. I am one of these people.

#i dont know what 2 tag this as . my brain stopped working #thomas sanders #i dont. really want 2 put this in the main tags but i will. i guess #sanders sides

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southernmermaidsgrotto · 11 months

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Do you think love and light spirituality is toxic?

Definitely yes.

Now some of you will run away just from reading those two words, let me elaborate: It's not just toxic, it's actively harmful and racist, ableist, it's white cis hetero male supremacist in every way. Completely rooted in naz1 ideas from the very beginning of it. You just gotta look at the history of the whole movement and there's flaming red flags everywhere.

But even if you don't know the history and social context of how it came to be and popularized (which you should, do your research), just by looking at these people and how they move through life you can still clearly see the issues with it.

I have 3 main problems with the whole "love and light" thing that a lot of new age people spread, the first and biggest for me is spiritual bypassing. New Age "love & light" culture is not only completely incorrect (the dark is just as important, real and necessary for balance as the light, really, I'm saying it as someone with 10+ years of experience and a whole family background in ancestral traditions. The dark shit is Important and necessary, to understand all aspects of life, spiritual and not, to grow as a person and as a practitioner, to protect yourself and yours from both material and spiritual things and to fight either if needed.) but the whole "good vibes only" ends up being delusional at best and straight out abusive at worst, many times gaslighting people and denying racism, colonialism, oppression of all kinds, spiritual and physical illness, mental illness, basic history and science, all things that can have very real, physical consequences on people's mental health, overall health, and safety in general, not to mention the wider effects on society as a whole (having people running around with the emotional inteligence of a clam shell, scratch that, even clams are better than that lmao and spreading misinformation and harm like wildfire). The Second big mess is how much it promotes the complete lack of literacy and rational critical thinking. People will learn a new fancy thing and just run with it without knowing the full history and correct use of things and words, without questioning the source and context of the whole situation. Misinterpreting the little knowledge they have, either because it's something they overheard, or read in 1 book and never bothered to dive deeper into it's roots and history and true meaning, having the most shallow and incorrect "knowledge" of things, etc. It goes hand in hand with the 1st problem to create the 3rd issue: straight out willful malicious ignorance. They don't know any better and they can't be bothered to learn any better either. It's not just laziness or disinterest, it's straight out conscious denial of truth, repression of their own feelings and thoughts and identity even in some cases, to just be able to keep this facade of "love & light" that's killing them from the inside, hurting themselves and hurting anyone they come into contact with aswell, all to serve their selfish purposes and their own agendas.

All these three things feed off and enhance each other in an endless loop, that gets even worse in the kinds of conspiracy theory echo chambers these people move in. The ignorance and immaturity combined with someone who doesn't do any introspection at all and is straight out lying to themselves and others, either from a place of delusion, or in the case of most white people, priviledge. It's a huge system that only feeds white supremacy and keeps people of color disconnected from their true feelings and health, personal identity, culture and community, taking people away from any and every possible source of real power. It's keeping the priviledged in power and the disenfranchised in misery while denying the whole situation, spreading misinfo to confuse, divide and put the blame on the victims instead of the actual victimizer.

Priviledged people spread misinformation and lies because they don't know and don't care + actively benefit from keeping you in the dark, all while screaming from the top of their lungs that they have your best interests at heart and will "shine light on truths" while their actions are the complete opposite of that, then hide from the results of anything harmful they do under the "love & light positive thoughts only" thing to avoid conflict and consequences. It's bullshit. Call them out on their bullshit everytime.

#I love my people #but some of y'all got some serious undiagnosed mental illness going on and don't want to acknowledge it #got people thinking they're atlantean kemet aliens when their true african ancestors side eye and sigh #know yourself #know your people #know WHITE FOLKS WILL SAY THE CRAZIEST SHIT JUST TO KEEP YOU AWAY FROM YOUR TRUE POWER and SOME!! OF Y'ALL DEEPTHROATING THAT SHIT!!!!#without even knowing it was yt folks that made it up to justify racism and eugenics like !!!#and know mentall illness is a real thing that leaves you seriously exposed to these kinds of abusive environments #so keep that in check and stay in touch with reality thankyewww #seriously read some actual history books and even better: TALK TO PROPER ELDERS.....NONE of them is gonna mention anything like #what you hear from new age folks #cause all new age shit was made up less than 100 years ago and WE!!! GO BACK!!! 400+ years!!!! just as diaspora!!!! THOUSANDS as natives!!!#(american or african or else)#tap into THAT!!!!

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drill-teeth · 3 months

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It's late at night, but I have an angry thought. I find it extremely upsetting just how completely the online discussion of mental illness is no longer actually about the mentally ill, especially the most at risk.

Discussions of cluster b disorders only exist to demonize those disorders now. To identify a group of people who can have a very hard time coping and healing and readjusting and take language associated and basically redefine them and their experiences as being abuser disorder.

People will invoke actual symptoms in bad faith so frequently as an excuse to shift social conversations that aren't about them to themselves that a lot of people no longer know the words' medical definition. Hardly anyone can give me the actual definition of spoon theory or compassion fatigue because they don't know what those symptoms mean. And the only thing they're using them to mean is "I'm tired and don't want to put in the energy to engage with others' problems" which is not the fucking same thing.

People will do a watching Tiktoks level of mental health research, self diagnose a disorder, and then become a brand new well of misinformation of that disorder. And you can hardly point out that these people are spreading misinformation and a watered down version of a disorder that can be easily explained in other ways because you'll get accused of fakeclaiming and being an ableist. And actually I don't think it's ableist to point out mental health words mean what they mean.

A lot of people think they can't be ableist about the mentally ill if they have a disorder, so they'll slap adhd or autistic in their bio to try and appear mental health friendly. And whether or not they are adhd or autistic doesn't matter because they are still ableist and are trying to convince you they can't be.

One of the most shitty things ever said to me (aside from classic anon "kill yourself" asks) was someone who had read my comic on identifying as bigender, went to my blog and saw I identified as having a disordered, plural identity (and I know they went to my blog to dig this up because it was not mentioned on the post with the comic) and told me being that mentally ill meant I was too traumatized to identify as trans and much less bigender and that I was probably just a butch girl who should keep my voice down. And that is completely infantilizing and insulting and ableist. And that person had "autistic" proudly displayed in their bio.

The conversation of mental health online is dominated by ableists who just want to use mental health terms they don't understand to avoid criticism. And that shouldn't be a boogeyman that causes people to never trust anyone with a disorder in their bio again because that's ableist as fuck too. But god is it disheartening.

#otto thoughts #cw: ableism

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redd956 · 1 year

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CW: Redd ranting about psychology frustrations

Thinking about swapping my art minor into a psychology minor (I already completed the starter classes in high school), but self diagnosis culture already gets my blood pressure up and I don’t anymore of a reason to hate it.

I see the same damn arguments defending it, which is wild alone, and it irks me even more as someone who grew up so dirt poor. People need to learn that: their symptoms ARE valid and that the self diagnosis ISN’T.

There is a reason as to why you require a medical professional and lots of work to get a diagnosis. Yes there are bad psychiatrist, doctors, everything out there. Yes the American healthcare system is from the bottom level of hell. Yes the DSM-5 is a fucking mess and needs an entire revamp for so many reasons.

None of that means self diagnosing is going to help you in any way. Your symptoms are valid, if assurance and validity is what you’re looking for. Seeing shit? Don’t presume you have schizophrenia. It could be schizo-affective disorder, hypnogenic hallucinations, PTSD, a bad blunt whatever, it could even be a physical ailment. You seeing shit is valid though. It is a terrifying and valid experience, and looking into that and doing research can really help you.

Looking into particular disorders and stuff can also help you, as it can guide you into the future were you might want to take a diagnosis or tackle a symptom if you see fit.

Going I most definitely have this leads to stereotyping, misinformation, difficulty for treatment for those that the disorder, increases ableism against those diagnosed, doctors and medical workers becoming skeptical, ruining and invading on the culture of those actually with the disorder (I primarily see this with ASPD), making difficult in the future to continue research on mental health.

Of course its all a different story if its a disorder that is so blatantly obvious no one can ignore it. You should be mad at the United States healthcare system and not people against self diagnosis if you are unable to reach or afford proper mental healthcare or good doctors.

I myself am struggling with my current one, because they focusing on symptom for too long, and not what I want to look into. It happens. I’ve had bad primary care physicians too but I’m not going to go home and diagnose my physical ailments.

Not to mention how deadly it is. If you self diagnose and then go to a doctor and they roll with it, you could get treatment for something you don’t have and that can really really really mess you up. You also could be consuming the treatment products of a disorder you don’t have, that other people need. The United States runs out of healthcare stuff a lot, and you’d be surprised that it’s mostly because trends have caused people to bullrush particular medical products.

It invalidatess and makes the jobs more difficult for the good doctors actually out there, and people looking to become doctors.

YOUR SYMPTOMS ARE VALID

YOUR DIAGNOSIS COULD NOT BE

Anyway I’m done ranting, because again it gets my blood pressure up.

#redd vents #cw mental health #cw ableism #not whump #not writing #psychology

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lostcitysystem · 2 years

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★ dni/byf★

★ dni: ★

basic dni i.e. racists, antisemites, islamophobes, MAPs, zoophiles, LGBTQ+phobic etc

anti-BLM

anti-Palestine/ultra-zionists

pro-life supporters

jk rowling/harry potter etc supporters (it’s okay to like HP just pirate it or something and consume it critically- also introjects are fine)

transid, transabled, transrace etc or supporters

radqueer (those who support transid mentioned above & MAPs/zoophiles/consang etc)

pro-contact and pro-glorification/romanticisation/normalisation of dangerous paras such as MAP/zoo/consang etc (as in thinking they should be considered natural/acted upon)

autism speaks/forced ABA/Sia/PETA supporters

truscum/transmed/TERF/radfem etc

NSFW heavy accounts (we understand but we would prefer if you didn’t follow or followed on a different account)

DDLG/CGL/loli/shota etc accounts & supporters

raptophilia/biastophilia/con-noncon accounts (same reasoning as NSFW accs)

pro-ana/ED accounts and anti-fat/fatshaming accounts

non-traumagenic “systems”

believers in narcissistic abuse

those who demonise personality disorders (especially ASPD, NPD & cluster b)

★ we are pro: ★

choice

neopronouns/xenogender/neurogender etc (just generally chill with most gender/pronoun/sexuality expressions)

body positivity/neutrality etc

non-sexual age regression

self diagnosis (with adequate research obviously)

BLM/ACAB/Palestine & more

★byf: ★

since we are bodily 23, as a general rule we are a little uncomfortable forming friendships with those below the age of 17. it’s okay to message us/ask us questions/follow us/rb etc but in general we think it’s a bit weird to have genuine friends that much younger than us, even online (mutuals are okay though). if you have an understanding of our age difference and the dynamics that accompany it then it should be okay but please always check we are comfortable with this. we are also in a long term relationship so we do not like flirting and will block you if it persists.

we have trouble with understanding tone over messages so if you ask us stuff or message us we would love if you used tone tags :)

★views on endos: ★

we believe that it is impossible for a system to be endogenic as trauma is the reason that someone’s self splits into pieces in the first place. despite this, we do not inherently dislike people identifying as endos and do understand that many are misguided and either are traumagenic or have other mental health conditions that mirror symptoms of DID/OSDD etc (or could be confused for them) or are confusing being a system with just having different parts in your mind (see IFS therapy). however, in our opinion, the endo community has contributed to a completely unscientific view of dissociative disorders which in turn creates a bad name for systems. we abhor the use of terms like ‘sysmed’ or ‘traumascum’ (note the similarity to the transphobe community terms- also completely fine to reclaim these if you’re a trans system though) and believe a lot of the rhetoric in endo communities is anti-science and can lean toward cultural appropriation or other radical views (like transphobia). again just because you believe you are an endo, it doesn’t mean we hate you or even dislike you, we would just prefer if you didn’t interact. the main thing we’re against is misinformation. if you have any other questions please feel free to send us an ask or pm but understand that we may not always be in the headspace to debate/argue our beliefs.

★we are very happy to explain our dni to people and don’t necessarily believe everyone on this list (bar obvious exceptions) is a bad person so if you’re confused about anything feel free to dm us or send us an ask. we know a DNI rarely works but we feel it’s a good way for people to understand our views. this DNI is updated regularly, check back in. we also recognise many of these criteria are only applicable to online spaces and can even be classed as “chronically online” yet since we have created a space for ourselves online, we want it to be curated to our personal preferences and comforts. additionally, we are aware that having certain things in our dni may subject us to attempts to trigger us. rest assured that this dni is written fairly carefully and the subjects/“identities” mentioned only trigger us in specific and unmentioned circumstances.★

#dni #byf #dni list #dni byf #intro post

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a-weird-cryptid · 1 year

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Hey uh. As a system who read Elle(s). Please don't advertise as a comic about a girl with DID. That's not what she has. You can say it can be interpreted as DID but it is not about DID

SPOILERS FOR ISSUE 2

it's revealed that she was in the womb with 5 other embryos. And that they merged into her. That's not how DID works. As a system that sought out this comic after seeing this post, I did feel like it was a bit of a slap in the face. It's not your fault the comic falls into some actual misinformation but I feel like it was never meant to be about did

I think issue 1 leans into the DID coding a lot and I was very excited for issue 2. I think it's very DID coded but stating that its explicitly about DID is a bit inaccurate

Thanks for the criticism!

(Don't worry, I'll leave my comment spoiler free. But if you want to know what it's referring to, I'd recommend reading the spoiler section to the comment I'm reacting to, to get a basic idea.)

Again, I'm only half way through the first volume and I sadly didn't know that that's revealed in the second book. I can't tell my own opinion on it, because of the same reason, but I most likely will when I get there.

I wasn't intending to advertise Elles and I'm sorry if I accidentally did. The post was ment to be a simple, subjective review about the part of the graphic novel I've read so far. Since I'm new on this app and I wanted to try out a new type of post, to see what my audience would most likely want to see more of.

And I'm extremely sorry if I made anyone upset because I posted this review, not knowing that the series would end up being misinformative.

I def didn't expect the post to blow up that much. But since it did, I see it as my responsibility to correct this mistake, even if I didn't made it, nor could have known about it until I now. (If this person didn't made this comment to put my attention to it, I still wouldn't be aware of it. Again, thank you a lot. I think it's really important to stop spreading misinformation as soon as you see it.)

I can't really judge the accuracy of this reveal, because I'm NOT a mental health professional or similar, nor somebody suffering from DID (as far as I'm aware). But based of my own research, it's def misinformative and a mistake the writer (or whoever is responsible for the basic story) of this comic made. And I won't defend them for doing so, just because I like Elles so far.

DID is NOT formed like shown in the second comic. Instead, it's formed by extreme, repeated childhood trauma (most of the time of sexual nature) before the age of about 8. (And that's already simplified.) I most likely won't give my own, "full", explanation of this dissociative disorder on my blog. Unless there's a high demand. Since they're many ACTUAL systems and mental health professionals who did that WAY better than I ever could, already.

I will correct my post to make all of that more clear. But I won't take the it down, simply because of the positive feedback I got from the DID community. Which I assume means that it's still a good comic for DID representation. At least when it comes to the first comic book.

As well as the fact that, when searching about "Elles", most reviews, as well as real advertisement for this comic talk about different "personalities". Which is another term often used instead of "alter", as far as I know. I even saw some websites straight up stating she has undiagnosed DID. Which, in combination with the rest of the story, lead me to the conclusion that it most likely is about it nonetheless. Or at least it is suppose to be. Accurate or not.

Which makes it all the more disappointing to find out about the reveal in the second novel, in my opinion. I think it's such a "missed out" and rare opportunity to NOT show what DID is actually all about. And how it's formed. I thought they didn't mention it in any kind of way so far, simply because it's undiagnosed and noone really knows abt it. So I was hoping there'd be some kind of "big reveal" later. A few panels or even just simple sentences could have been enough to depict it more accurate, without accidentally triggering sb. Or making it less kid/ya friendly.

#elles comic #elle(s)#sorry for the long post

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echo-of-sounds · 2 years

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I've wanted to ask a few people this but I always get too scared. I thought you would be a good person to ask. Do you have any tips on writing for disabled readers?

Uh, sure! I have this little thing I wrote some time ago. It isn't worded the best since I wrote it one morning when I was annoyed, but all my points still stand.

This is by no means a definitive list, and just what I, personally, like and don't like seeing in fanfics when it involves a disabled character or reader.

1: Don't blindly write about a disability if you don't know enough about it. Realize you don't know enough and then research. If you can't take the time or energy to do that, then honestly, don't write about it. I'd rather see nothing about readers with ADHD than insulting, infantilizing pieces that look like someone just read the DSMV criteria for ADHD.

2: Don't just say it's 'a disabled reader' and then never specify beyond that. The word "disability" ranges from autism to amputees to PTSD, paraplegia, mobility aid users, endometriosis, Crohn's disease, agoraphobia, cerebral palsy, chronic migraine, deaf/hard of hearing, the list can go on. If you have someone who has PTSD and agoraphobia in mind, mention that. Or say they're disabled because of their mental health. Or mention if it's a physical and/or chronic condition or if they're a wheelchair user or deaf. The word 'disabled', while not a bad word, is just way too broad to expect every disabled reader to actually relate to what you wrote, so it's best to try to narrow it down a little if possible.

3: Don't write a disabled reader and only have them be suffering all of the time or only mention it once or twice then never again. Yeah, my physical and mental issues cause me pain, some greater than others, but my life isn't only about my disabilities. It isn't 24/7 suffering. But also, it's just there a lot of the time. I always feel something is off. Portraying a disabled character as never being happy or, on the other extreme, just never really mentioning their pain, are both unrealistic.

4: If you write in some magical or sci-fi cure, no matter how in-cannon it may be, don't. It's just ableist. Don't put a disabled character in your work just to have them be cured and finally find happiness. Those tropes are actively harmful to real-life people by perpetuating the idea that disabled people need a cure to find any sort of happiness or contentment in their life.

5: Don't write an "X Character x disabled!reader" then treat the reader like they're incapable of anything. Those with chronic pain know to take their meds. Wheelchair users don't want to be pushed around without their consent (it doesn't matter if they're their partner; a wheelchair is their means of moving and no one should touch it without consent). Mute people or those who use augmentative and alternative communication (AAC) don't want to read "Character Y already knows what you're gonna say so don't bother signing/typing it." That isn't cute or quirky like you may think. Let the disabled person communicate their thoughts/wants/needs and not be spoken over.

6: Be open to criticism and feedback. If you write something that's inaccurate, harmful, or just ableist, don't be put off if someone comments and corrects you, especially if you didn't research. That isn't "unwanted criticism" as some people like to call it. It's wanting to stop the spread of misinformation and ableism within fandom.

#advice #writing #disabled writer #reader insert #x reader #fandom #fanfic #asks #anon

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snakegentleman · 2 years

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Hello! I’ve mentioned I wanted to make a master post about cluster b disorders for the TR fandom, so here it is. The reason I set out to do this is so anyone interested can have a baseline knowledge of them without sifting through academic papers for hours and to try and stop some of the misinformation happening when talking about Mikey. I’ll link my research at the bottom too, so y’all can take a look. I have decided to narrow my focus to ASPD just because that’s what most people mean when they call Mikey a sociopath and for my own sanity.

First off, I want to mention that it is particularly difficult to understand what Antisocial Personality Disorder (ASPD) is and do research on it. This is because of the history and stigma surrounding it. ASPD, formerly psychopath/sociopath (both were used to describe what they used to believe was two disorders which is now modern day ASPD) were not a treatment based label. They were basically labels that meant the psychologist diagnosing a person did not believe were treatable. It was a discriminatory label used to predict criminal recidivism and how dangerous a person was in general. It also was a label that excluded those diagnosed from medical treatment for mental health. This stigma continues today as those with ASPD who do try to get help are often rejected by therapists and mental institutions.

The stigma in the medical field has meant that actual medical research about symptoms and especially treatment are incredibly limited. ASPD was only added as a treatment-focused diagnosis in the DSM-5. Many of the diagnostic criteria are underdeveloped and very descriptive how it impacts people around someone with ASPD rather than the patient. Those of us who are autistic know that this is faulty at best for diagnosis as it does not actually understand the internal feelings and mechanisms of the disorder and how it affects the person with it.

The point of all this introduction being that you should take this research with a grain of salt. The best source for how any mental illness works is from the people who have it because they are often at least 5 years ahead of the medical field in their understanding of it because they experience it themselves. However, it is very hard to find ASPD communities who talk about it, so I’m doing my best off of the few ASPD advocates I know. My views on mental health will affect the way I communicate this information because much of the documents I had to look through spoke about ASPD through an ableist/stigmatizing lens and I refuse to regurgitate that.

An important point I’d like to make is that ASPD, and any personality disorder, can not be diagnosed before the age of eighteen (so past Mikey at least can not be diagnosed with it) though symptoms often start in a person’s teens. This is because your personality is not set until you are an adult and ASPD has a lot of overlaps and comorbidity with other disorders which have to be ruled out first. If a person is suspected of having ASPD, they may be diagnosed with oppositional defiant disorder (ODD) or conduct disorder (CD) as a child which do not actually have anything to do with ASPD (they are just comorbid), and are disorders that describe how children respond to trauma at a young age. ODD is when a child persistently causing problems to those around them which can include outburst of anger, being intentionally annoying, and blaming others for mistakes. CD is when a child is aggressive and frequently breaks serious rules or laws. Both can be what people colloquially know as anger issues.

The causes for ASPD are not completely known; however, it is believed to be affected in some way by genes (most likely through epigenetics), but the main way is through trauma during child development, specifically violent, unstable, or chaotic family life during childhood. Those with ASPD are more likely to break the law and struggle with addiction. The most defining characteristic of ASPD is an impairment in either identity or self direction and an impairment in empathy or intimacy, but much of the diagnostic criteria I have found describe actions those with ASPD often correlate with such as breaking the law, aggression, and addiction. Most treatments have not been thoroughly tested in a clinical setting either and often focus on treating symptoms. The medical field previously held the belief that ASPD was untreatable; however, studies have shown ASPD patients often are open to treatment if their disorder is explained to them and treatment needs to be very structured. An important note is that a lot of ASPD studies are done on those in prison which has led to long term medical bias.

People with ASPD are often disconnected from their own emotions and the emotions of others. It is often described as incredible suffering for the patient, more so than any disorder and to those around them. Many can not connect to others properly due to a lack of empathy and some report not being able to feel emotions. However, contrary to popular belief, people ASPD can feel empathy towards those very close to them, but often struggle to feel for those outside of that inner circle. They are also often chronically bored and have a hard time finding fulfillment, setting long term goals, and struggle with impulsivity. These factors can be what lead to the large correlation with crime and addiction.

In relation to Tokyo Revengers, we must be thoughtful about the ways we discuss Mikey’s mental illness. In the fiction, it is possible Mikey has ASPD and it could be an very authentic and nuanced portrayal, and I’d love it if this community could be able to have a meaningful conversation about it, but we need to understand ASPD so we can avoid stigmatizing it further.

Thank you so much for reading, I can’t believe I ended up writing an entire essay with sources for this!

Sources:

https://bmcmedicine.biomedcentral.com/articles/10.1186/1741-7015-8-66 (an argument for more research into ASPD and DSM changes)

https://www.cdc.gov/childrensmentalhealth/behavior.html (ODD & CD diagnostic criteria)

https://journals.sagepub.com/doi/abs/10.1177/070674371506000703 (the abstract is the only thing I was able to read. This link won’t go live due to it being from a journal)

https://www.mayoclinic.org/diseases-conditions/antisocial-personality-disorder/symptoms-causes/syc-20353928 (actual list of diagnostic criteria if you’re interested)

https://www.psi.uba.ar/academica/carrerasdegrado/psicologia/sitios_catedras/practicas_profesionales/820_clinica_tr_personalidad_psicosis/material/dsm.pdf (dsm 4 & 5 diagnostic criteria)

https://www.mind.org.uk/information-support/your-stories/life-with-antisocial-personality-disorder-aspd/ (a person with ASPD talking about their life and experience with ASPD, I highly recommend everyone read it)

#tokyo revengers #the invincible mikey #tokyo revengers spoilers #tokyo revengers manga #tokyo rev #sano manjiro #aspd #antisocial personality disorder #mental health #tokrev spoilers #tr spoilers #tr #tr 241 #you know the hyperfixatiom has set in when you write an academic essay only tangentially related to your hyperfixation

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marveldc-imagines-hub · 3 years

Text

Subtitles: Episode 4, We Interrupt This Program

Subtitles Masterlist

Summary: [Y/N] is still recovering from one of the worst migraines they’ve ever had and they have the scars to prove it… Wait. Those scars weren’t there before and they certainly weren’t from passing out on the sidewalk a few days prior!

Word count: 9,361

Warnings: Mentions of (not super graphic) death and mental illness. Also Reader being just a little horny on main, but what’s new; almost 9.5k words and they’re simping for most of them. Lots of dorky fluff and also talking about insecurities.

Tag list: @madamevirgo @ravennight41 @multifandomgirl16 @cyanide-mustard @badasspolygenderfriend

~~~

In the black void of otherwise dreamless sleep, voices were conversing.

“[Y/N] [L/N]…” one started.

[Y/N] [L/N]. Age twenty-five. Born to Killian and Alice [L/N] in [city, state] but Dad wasn’t in the picture. No siblings, no living relatives. They wanted to go to school for botany but Mom was diagnosed with early-onset dementia while they were still in high school, so they changed their career path to neurology in hopes of finding a way to help her. She still lives in their hometown.

“Oh, wait,” another voice chimed in, almost indistinguishable from the first, “I know this one. Oh, God.”

[Y/N] was an Honors student, at the top of all their classes. A degree in neurology with phytotoxicology on the side. They took an internship in Europe one year and somehow found themselves in Sokovia. HYDRA was still laying low at the time, caught wind of them.

“Wait,” a third voice, this one easier to differentiate from the other two. “They’re HYDRA?”

The second voice responded, “Former.”

[Y/N] had no idea what they were getting into. HYDRA, always good at hiding in the shadows; they brought [Y/N] in under the guise of an assistant job studying new forms of neural regeneration. A job that paid well enough to live comfortably and even send a little extra home, while developing something that just might solve all their mother’s problems? It was a dream come true.

Fortunately for HYDRA but unfortunately for [Y/N], they were very good at their job too. They helped HYDRA develop all kinds of nasty stuff. Nanobots that changed brain chemistry, near foolproof brainwashing tech— They even helped develop special toxins, one of the world’s deadliest poisons. All the while, thinking they were doing something good.

“How is that possible?” the original voice asked. “How could they have been so oblivious?”

“One-track mind?” the second voice offered, “Plus misinformation on HYDRA’s part and ‘routine health checks’ with something a little extra mixed in.”

“They were tested on?”

“A victim of almost everything they’d helped create, except the fatal stuff and anything that would disrupt business as usual. IVs and shots full of toxins, nanobots being released into their room while they slept.”

The third asked, “What changed?”

“Wanda.”

[Y/N] stumbled upon Wanda and her brother by pure accident. They’d been late that day and in their hurry, ran through a wrong door to where HYDRA was keeping Sokovian volunteers for testing. The twins were the youngest in their group, [Y/N] was only a couple of years older and the youngest in their division. It was a match made in heaven, really.

“Try hell,” the first voice suggested with a scoff.

The other voices offered their murmured agreements.

“So they knew each other,” the third voice said, “Before.”

That’s when [Y/N] started pulling at threads and HYDRA’s costume began to unravel; their one-track mind had switched gears. There was something too weird about the whole thing, these Sokovian civilians had stories that didn’t line up with [Y/N]’s own.

“And they believed them?”

They believed Wanda. She and her brother were just two more Sokovian citizens suffering at the hands of war and wanting to help their people. They had no reason to lie. They had more reason to be honest to [Y/N] than HYDRA ever did, actually. It was just a bonus that for Wanda and [Y/N], being around each other was like being a moth drawn to a flame.

[Y/N] may have been naive but they were far from stupid. When they figured out what was going on, they wriggled their way deeper into HYDRA’s ranks under their own disguise of loyalty. They became a full-fledged HYDRA agent, tasked with assisting in neural and poisonous weaponry. They weren’t able to protect Pietro and Wanda from testing, obviously—not that Wanda would have let them; she and her brother still believed they were being tested on for the greater good—but they did their best to stay nearby and keep the Maximoffs’ sanity intact for as long as they could. They even managed to save a couple of the other test victims by injecting them with temporary poisons that lowered their heart rate to the point of appearing dead. When the bodies were dropped off, the poison wore off not long after and some of the victims were able to escape. No side effects to be seen.

“I have a question,” Original voice said abruptly. “Why do we know this much information on one person? Like, this is some in-depth, intimate stuff. Why do we know that [Y/N] and Wanda had the hots for each other since day one?”

Second voice answered, “We’ve done extensive research on [Y/N]. The result of an investigation on the person who caused the apprehension of an entire faction of HYDRA after successfully poisoning them.”

The tests that were done on [Y/N] were not without their outcomes. They gained the ability to transform almost any matter into almost any other form.

“Huh,” Third voice hummed, “That reminds me of a series of disappearances a few years back. One house was replaced by rose bushes and another—get this—burned down because the roof had been turned to lava. Whoever it was, they either stopped on their own or died. What were they called?”

“The Alchemist,” Second stated simply, much to Third’s dismay. “And those were incognito HYDRA agents.”

After Pietro died and Wanda disappeared—not really disappeared, just left with the Avengers—[Y/N] had a choice to make. They were far too deep into HYDRA’s work now, the awful things that they had done were beginning to weigh on them, as Wanda and her brother had been just as grounding for [Y/N] as [Y/N] had been for her. After she was gone, they had a hard time dealing with the horrible business going on around them. So they did what they knew how to do; they mixed up a combination of poison and nanobots.

[Y/N] had fully committed to perishing with the rest of their coworkers but apparently, the poison hadn’t been quite strong enough. They’d made a miscalculation in a time of poor mental state and woke up the next day to hear that not all of the HYDRA agents had died either. At least the survivors had been taken in for the time being but that just wasn’t enough for them; they’d had a right to be concerned too because HYDRA had a habit of getting themselves out of sticky situations. This case was no different.

[Y/N] most likely felt responsible for having a hand in HYDRA’s dirty work, for not doing more, and they must have felt even more responsible when they learned that HYDRA was a much bigger problem than they could have ever imagined.

First blurted, “Well, what happened next?”

Second answered, “They went after agents until they got caught, the only way they knew how.”

The second miscalculation that they’d ever made got them caught. The agent put a gun to [Y/N]’s head and pulled the trigger.

“So are they dead too?” First asked. The voice seemed to quiver.

The third voice hemmed and hawed a bit before saying, “They must have, with the way all this weirdness had been going. Oh my god, poor Wanda, not one dead partner but two—”

Second spoke over the other two voices’ rambling, forcing them to calm down and listen. “They didn’t die, though, they—”

The voices started cutting out like the dream was a TV program being interfered by a poor connection and static.

“—Found by—Barely alive—Hospital—Braindead—Westview—Find a doct—”

Suddenly gunshots sounded, one followed by several more, and the darkness cracked and shattered, revealing blinding light behind it. A silhouette walked silently through the wall of light; it was Geraldine—no, Monica—poised with a gun in the outfit she helped deliver Maximoff twins in. As she walked forward, crossing from a plane of burning white to one of void black, the image of her warped and distorted until it changed. Monica, looking much more modern, in a uniform that included a bulletproof vest and a lanyard with S.W.O.R.D. printed at the top, moving carefully towards a broken and bleeding body on the ground with another in a heap behind her. The image distorted and changed again, and the first body was sitting on their knees and looking up defiant defeat. The person they were looking at was no longer Monica but a bulky figure in a dark outfit with straps in the form of an H across their chest, the body that had been laying in a battered pile behind Monica just a moment earlier. The H-adorned assailant held a still-raised gun to the kneeling person’s forehead.

[Y/N] could only spit at their feet before another gunshot sounded and the image disappeared to black.

You woke up sweating and choking on your breath. Your brain, throbbing with a pain that shot through it like a bullet, didn’t register fast enough that you were standing instead of laying down so when you flailed, you threw yourself off balance and fell forward. Catching a quick glimpse of your surroundings on your way down told you that you were somewhere outside and that it was the dead of night. You tried last minute to brace yourself for a concrete-laden impact.

You were instead greeted with soft fabric and arms wrapping tightly around you.

“Goodness, [Y/N], are you quite alright?”

You squinted at the striped sleepwear for a moment before looking up where Vision’s worried gaze and whirling irises were waiting for you; it took your eyes a moment to fully focus as the pain in your head faded but left a faint ringing behind. Then you looked around at your surroundings; not only were you outside but you were standing in Vision and Wanda’s driveway. Your gaze settled on a particular section of the house’s exterior where you vividly remembered a vaguely human shape exploding out of its walls.

You were standing in the exact same place you had been when it happened.

“[Y/N]?” Vision said again, drawing your attention back to him.

“Oh, cosmo, I’m sorry,” you said but your throat was too dry and you had to stop and clear your throat halfway through. Being in Vision’s arms, you were keenly aware of the fact that you were both in your bedwear and that yours had been sweated through. You slumped against him, partially to hide your embarrassed face but also because you felt like you hadn’t slept at all.

“Vis?”

“Yes, my favorite teacup?”

You snorted softly at that. “You don’t even drink tea.”

“Oh, I know,” Vision lilted back. Then he nuzzled his face into your hair. “I do like the patterns and the daintiness of them though.”

That time you laughed a bit. Feeling his warm breath against your scalp and his strong arms holding you safely in place against him, you almost instantly melted into the embrace. You wrapped your own arms around him and pressed your face into his chest. “What are we doing outside?”

“Ah, yes, about that. You appeared to be sleepwalking again.”

You groaned. “Again? This is a nightmare.”

One of Vision’s hands moved to run itself through your hair and down your neck. “That accident you had the other day certainly did a number on you.”

The accident. In other words, that time where you walked off in the middle of a conversation with Vision, Agnes, and Herb to mumble at a wall and then faceplant onto the sidewalk. Not only was your nose still recovering but your mind and dignity as well.

“The only time I’ve slept well since is when I fell asleep on your couch,” you whined. Then you lowered your voice and grumbled into Vision’s chest.

Vision chuckled. “What was that?”

You looked up at him and scowled. “The four of you are over here in your stupid, big, warm, cozy house. Meanwhile, I’m across the way, alone and uncomfortable, with only Bernard to keep me company. Bernard’s terrible company.”

“Truly,” Vision agreed, grinning slightly. He loved your strange, cute, not at all challenging struggles.

The both of you turned to give the lawn ornament in question a pointed look. Bernard seemed to glower back.

“Well,” Vision said as he pulled away from you a bit, “why don’t you come inside then? Wanda’s up with the babies anyway. You might as well join us, especially if it means you’ll be able to sleep better.” Not taking no for an answer, the synthezoid was already tugging you towards the lit-up porch.

You were too tired to argue and, quite frankly, you didn’t want to, so you allowed yourself to be pulled along as you admired the soft cotton of Vision’s matching pajama set.

“Oh, my.”

“What?” You looked at Vision’s face again only to catch him staring at a spot above your eyes. The porch light glinted off the gem embedded in his own. “What, do I have something on my face?”

“No,” Vision responded slowly, “but you must have done something to it. You have quite the scar.”

Your eyebrows raised. You moved away from him to look at your reflection in one of the windows and surely enough, you had a raised scar on your forehead, near your hairline. You gingerly pressed your fingers against it; it certainly wasn’t new.

A seemingly random thought popped into your head. Is that… a scar from a bullet?

“What on earth did you do to yourself?” Vision asked. Him walking up to stand directly behind you and press his hands to your neck, under the collar of your shirt no less, was more than a little distracting. “You’ve got one back here too.”

You reached back to where Vision was touching and when he removed his fingers, you could feel a similar scar at the base of your neck.

You thought again, Bullet… exit wound…?

Something about the dream you were having earlier called out to you but you couldn’t remember anything about it. When you tried to think about it further, the excruciating pain came back in waves and you had to steady yourself on the windowsill to prevent yourself from collapsing.

“Huh,” you said instead, “I have no idea.”

“They don’t hurt?” Vision questioned. “They’re not just… odd raised bruises perhaps? Welts maybe?”

“No, I don’t think so. They don’t hurt at all, though.” To make a point, you pressed down hard on the raised scar on your forehead, watched the skin turn a few shades lighter before releasing the pressure and dropping your hand again. Under the thick, stiff tissue, you barely felt the pressure at all.

Vision thoughtfully hummed, placing his hands back on the curves of your neck; you prayed to whatever deities existed that you didn’t make any sounds you’d regret.

“Well,” your partner said, “I suppose that’s better than nothing.”

A pause. Your eyes stayed trained on the window’s reflection, specifically where you could see Vision’s fingers gently cupping your neck.

Then he abruptly leaned down and pressed a kiss on the scar tissue, missing a pulse point by a hair. “We should head inside then.”

You had to take a solid minute to recover from the shockwave of tingles that briefly made your veins turn into lightning. Then you shuffled after Vision into the ever so inviting house.

Stepping out of chilly darkness and into a home of cozy furniture and warm light that turned the entire place a golden brown felt like walking into another world. An extra added layer of comfort to the usually perfect home was the slight disarray of baby equipment almost everywhere that wasn’t the floor itself, most of which you had gone out and bought during the babies’ day of birth and all of which Vision and Wanda appreciated; somehow, you had prepared for the babies’ accelerated growing on a panicked whim better than the Maximoffs. Tiny baby blankets and stuffed animals were strewn about and each visible part of the house—the living room, the dining area, and the kitchen, although the kitchen was partially blocked off by a drying rack of baby clothes and swaddles of various patterns and sizes—had a designated Baby Tray. These trays, perched on whatever flat surface had been previously free of decor or clutter, held bottles, nonperishable treats, diaper-changing equipment, teething toys, a mini first aid kit for each, and other useful trinkets; the new parents had apparently completely forgotten that almost all their house’s rooms were openly attached to each other and that, if one singular Baby Tray was designated to the dining area, it would take the same amount of about five steps to get to it from either the living area or the kitchen. It was almost comedic, the number of baby care items that were laying anywhere but the floor or in proper storage because, according to Vision, god forbid something gets a speck of dust on it and have to be washed or, according to Wanda, one of the babies be without their favorite toys easily accessible at every given moment. The only thing allowed to touch the ground, aside from feet, was a playpen that now replaced the usual coffee table in the living room area and a play mat in the babies’ room with its attached toys for the twins to play with. A final touch to the hominess was the soft light that you could see streaming out of the baby room’s open door, and the gentle voice of Wanda, singing a Sokovian lullaby, fluttering out of it.

It felt like coming home.

Vision stepped away from your side to clean up somewhat, picking up a few toys and folding baby blankets and onesies to move them aside in case you wanted to make yourself comfortable on the couch. Standing inside now, you could much better make out Vision’s dark blue terry robe over a pair of bright yellow pajama pants that no doubt had a shirt to match hidden beneath dark blue fabric. The yellow of his pants matched the yellow gem that was embedded in his forehead, glittering with an unused power that you had yet to experience and that felt warm whenever you went to place a kiss on it. Poking out from the hems of his robe and pants were perfectly human hands and feet, despite their deep red color that matched the rest of his body; you found the continued presence of fingernails when not in his human disguise—absolutely unnecessary to his design, he’d pointed out when you initially asked about them—weirdly cute and continuously felt the urge to grab nail polish and paint them to match either the color of the gem or the same silver as the plating that started at his scalp and trailed down beneath the collar of his shirt. You briefly wondered how far that plating traveled across his body before mentally kicking yourself.

The greatest thing about this still-fresh reveal of Vision’s inhuman identity—aside from the fact that he was no longer hiding something important from you, obviously—was that you now knew that he wasn’t just difficult to make blush but rather he quite literally couldn’t blush. You wondered what else he could and couldn’t do, only to mentally kick yourself again.

I can’t tell if I’ve gotten worse or better since I’ve started dating them, you thought.

Oh, your brain responded on its own accord, so much worse.

Shhh!

Vision was still puttering why while you stared and inwardly argued with yourself. At this point, he’d cleaned up most of the chaos and moved the stuffed animals and now-folded blankies to sit neatly on the dining area table.

“Vis,” you said.

Before you could continue, the man perked up and looked in your direction. “Yes, duck?”

You blinked. “You make my heart go rainbow-colored. Anyway—” You broke off into a laugh when Vision went flustered, his hands flapping about while he sucked his bottom lip between his teeth. “Did I win this round?”

Sometimes Vision got into the habit of ending all of his sentences around you and Wanda with a pet name. When you had first noticed this feat, you’d decided to start doing the same, just to see what would happen. He noticed and began purposely doing it back, where he had previously done it unintentionally, and now doing the occasional back-and-forth conversation that ended in pet names more than punctuation was somewhat of a competition between you two.

Vision scoffed at you, picked up a plushie, and tossed it at you. “Not fair!”

Being in the house that was beginning to feel more like home than your own, around your partners and their sweet baby boys, seemed to shield and reenergize you from the exhaustion you felt after first waking up that night. You caught the stuffed animal, a plushie of a wizard, grinned and tossed it back at him.

“Oh,” Vision chirped, catching the plush wizard again, “I see how it is.” He puffed out his chest and gave you a warning, albeit amused, glare, then picked up a couple more plushes. In a lower, sort of growling voice that made your heart leap out of your chest and into your stomach, he continued, “If it’s a war you want, it’s a war you shall get.”

You yelped as he started in your direction and dived across the front of the couch to get some stuffed animal ammo of your own. He nailed you in the foot with a cream-colored bunny and you returned the favor with a plushie of a witch in a red dress after taking cover behind the playpen. Now each of you was standing where the other had previously been, with you poking your head over the playpen’s sheer wall and Vision slowly pacing around the back of the couch for his second lap. You pulled the playpen with you with one hand as you moved away from him and the two of you began circling each other.

Oh, if Wanda could see her partners now.

“Oh, Wanda—” you started to stand, only to get smacked in the face with a blue teddy bear; luckily, it was of the very soft variety. You stared at Vision in disbelief.

Vision stared back, eyes bulging, unsure of whether he should apologize or prepare for an attack. He was too torn to do either, though, and had to scramble back to avoid an onslaught of stuffed bullets flying his way.

Still aware that it was very late at night, your war-cry was softened, “Revenge!”

Then your attack quickly diminished, partially because you were running out of ammo and Vision wasn’t throwing anything back and partially because Vision was now floating off the ground and heading towards you, arms full of said ammo.

Wow, didn’t know it did that, you thought randomly, eyes fixed Vision floating in general, before specifically fixating on the devilish grin he wore while doing so. He looked like a very handsome, well, vision.

A handsome Vision, if you will, your brain offered. You almost snorted before remembering you had not yet moved to avoid Vision’s floating plushie attack. You stumbled backward and scrambled out of the living room just as Vision started throwing.

“No no no no no nonononono—” You were choking between laughter and squawking as you got up and began running down the hallway to save yourself. “Not fair, not fair not fair, not fair—!”

You ran past the baby room and caught Wanda mid-turnaround, saying, “What on earth is going on out there?” You reeled back to pause in the doorway, caught a glimpse of the babies in their one large crib, smiled, went to pant out an answer—

Only to feel arms wrap around you and drag you back down the hallway. You started to shriek, then forced it into a startled laugh as to not disturb the babies, and flailed around in Vision’s arms as he lifted you off the ground. It was brief, though, because then your struggling caught Vision off balance and the two you tumbled to the ground. There, you both harmlessly pummeled each other until you both were out of breath and snickering, and you somehow ended up with his top half under you but his legs pinning down your own.

“You can fly?” you bubbled. You grabbed his face and squished his cheeks in your hands. “What the hell?”

He laughed and nodded, and one of his hands caught your own. He glanced up at you as he kissed your palm and replied, “Yes, just a little.”

“Just a little—”

“And his wife can move things with her mind, like the crib she just finished rocking to put the boys back to sleep, and if she has to do it again because of her partners’ roughhousing…”

You and Vision quickly disentangled yourselves from each other and looked up at Wanda, whose face said serious but whose eyes twinkled with amusement and who looked no less terrifying in a pale pink, puff-sleeved nightgown.

You got up and straightened your clothes, with Vision following closely behind. “I will very happily take over the next shift because I started it and I’m very sorry.”

“What? Nonsense, [Y/N], I threw the first stuffed animal.”

“I threw it back,” you pointed out.

“Neither of you better have thrown and hit something,” Wanda warned.

You glanced at Vision for confirmation; you didn’t exactly see much when you were chucking plushies aplenty and then running from your flying boyfriend.

Vision nodded. “Nothing at all, although I did make the evaluation that we do have a plethora of plushies and baby blankets.”

“I thought I was the one who pointed that out when you first gave me the shopping list, but okay,” you huffed under your breath, then grinned with Vision lightly bumped you with his hip. “So, the babies having a bad night?”

“Actually, they were apparently worried about you,” Wanda said.

That made your head do a confused tilt. “Me?”

“Ah, yes,” Vision nodded, “We fell asleep with them in the living room and Billy started crying. We woke up to figure out what was wrong and Wanda saw you standing outside.”

Wanda added, “Tommy started crying shortly after I walked to the door with him like he wanted to make sure you were okay.”

“Aww,” you cooed, peering over Wanda’s shoulder to see the babies. She stepped to the side so you could walk in and shuffle over to the crib, and she and Vision stood nearby as you crouched down to brush a hand over their little sleeping heads. You continued, much softer this time, “Were the boys trying to make sure I was safe? Are they my little protectors? My little superheroes?”

Tommy gurgled happily in his sleep. Billy remained quiet but his head leaned into your hand.

You looked up at their parents with big, awestruck eyes to see them leaning comfortably into each other, watching you with the same level of affection you felt for them and their babies.

“Heroes indeed,” Vision said. He walked over as you stood up again and lightly rocked the crib; Wanda strolled over to join the group. He continued to the twins in baby-talk, “But no hero-ing until after college, my little honeydews. For now, leave the protecting to your parents.”

“Especially this one,” Wanda chirped, making her way over to your side and slipping her arm around your back. “They’re a handful.”

You faked a gasp, “I’m a treasure.”

“You’re a putz,” Wanda said simply, with a smirk and a light pinch to your hip.

You gasped harder and stared at her with utter betrayal.

“A goof,” Vision chimed in. He slipped his own arm around you, the final piece of your three-person puzzle.

You gasped harder still— and almost choked on air. Then you looked to the babies. “Bullies! Bullies, both of them! Billy, Tommy, you must protect me!”

Very enthusiastically, neither baby did anything.

“I’ve been betrayed yet again,” you cried, not too loudly, though. You slumped against Vision and Wanda’s waiting arms. “Betrayed by my own brood!”

“Your brood?” Wanda questioned, quirking a brow. Vision was giggling softly at your other side.

“Yes,” you whispered, looking at her with wide, distraught eyes, “My brood. My pack. My murder.”

“Your what?” Vision said.

“It’s a group of crows,” you explained under your breath, before slumping down farther and continuing your distraught monologue. “I’m all alone! Oh, the horror—”

“Well,” Wanda said, “We’re supporting you very well a family that has completely abandoned you.”

You flopped your head back in her direction. You were so far to the ground now that you were practically on your knees, only your arms and shoulders being held by Wanda and Vision. You traced fingers lamely across each of their arms. “So strong, those who once held me…”

The married couple exchanged an amused but mysterious look.

“Wanda, darling,” Vision said, “They seem to have gone delusional.”

Wanda nodded sagely in response. “Clearly lost their mind.”

You squinted, glancing between them. What were they up to?

“To the ward with you,” Wanda suddenly announced.

Then you caught a red glow by your feet, but not fast enough before you were swept up into the air on a cloud of red mist. You burst into startled laughter but quickly slapped a hand over your mouth so you didn’t wake up the children. Once you relaxed—enough to stop laughing anyway, not enough to not be freaking out about being magically escorted out of the nursery—you waved your hands through the red; it felt like waving your hands through the open air. The only thing actually felt was the pressure on the back of your body that was holding you afloat and carrying you out of the room, but when you tried to balance on it and move to a different position, all you did was squirm and twist awkwardly in the air before flopping back down. You craned your neck, mostly to make sure Tommy and Billy hadn’t woken up from your outburst, but you only caught Wanda, hands glowing red, following you out of the room and Vision trailing after wishing his babies a goodnight.

You looked back at the ceiling for a moment. After you heard the nursery door shut, you asked at a normal volume, “I’m not gonna fall, right?”

“Not unless I let you,” Wanda reassured you. You couldn’t see her but the teasing tone of her voice made you imagine her with a smirk. A smirk, narrowed eyes, her pretty nightgown floating around her, magical powers that she could definitely use to crush you if she wanted to and you’d probably thank her if she did.

Wow, okay, I either need to confess my sins or go to sleep.

“Why?” Wanda asked suddenly.

“Why what?” you choked back, heat rushing to your face. Surely, she couldn’t read your thoughts…

“Why ask if you would fall?”

Oh.

“Oh.” You started flopping around in the cloud of magic, testing the proverbial waters; you were being taken to the living area now. You heard both Wanda and her husband laughing from beneath and behind you when you settled again.

Vision asked through chuckling, “What could you possibly be doing?”

You suddenly flung yourself to one of the magic surrounding you, thinking maybe you would fall through, but the magic held. You huffed and laid back again but not before you caught a glimpse of the couch that you now hovered over. You grasped at the magic again, watching it wisp through your fingers but feeling nothing at all. “This is so cool.”

Wanda’s voice was softer when she spoke this time. “You think?”

You couldn’t hold back the disbelieving laughter that bubbled up. Suddenly breathless out of sheer excitement of learning more about the people you cared for most, you sighed, “Wanda, baby, you must know that you’re amazing.”

Then you squawked as the magic suddenly disappeared around you, but instead of falling straight to the couch below, Vision flew up to catch you. He held you bridal style as he gently dropped back to his feet next to the couch, grinning—he very rarely just smiled, it was always a big, happy grin when it was directed at you or Wanda or the babies—and giving you a peck on the forehead when you stared up at him, doe-eyed.

“Got my own Superman, too,” you said, “Damn.”

Vision plopped you down on the couch. “Who?”

“Comic book character,” you responded with a wave of your hand, “Doesn’t matter. You’re far better looking than him anyway.”

You shifted a bit to get more comfortable and watched as glowing red magic started swirling all around you. The magic was misty, red around the edges and glowing orange-white in the center, picking up the scattered toys from your and Vision’s scuffle and tossing them into the playpen, pulling said playpen out of the way and sliding the original coffee table back from its place against the wall, picking up any other stray blankets or baby items and placing them neatly out of the way; it also straightened out Vision’s robe and ruffled your hair. Part of the magic moved out of your line of vision, so you twisted to follow it and saw it taking the baby clothes off the drying rack to fold and put on the counter next to it, then continued watching as it folded the rack itself and moved it out of the way.

Wanda was now in your sight again too; she was standing still, palms up with magic flowing outward from the red clouds around them, and looking around to see if there was anything else she needed to put away. She was also blushing, from you calling her baby or saying she’s amazing, you couldn’t tell. After staring for probably way too long, probably looking at her with the same starry-eyed, dopey look that a teenager had at their first concert or after a first kiss, her gaze flitted to yours and made a nose-scrunching face at you before finishing her magical cleanup and making her way over to the couch as well.

You slumped back in the pile of throw pillows behind you, covered your face with your hands, and flutter-kicked your feet few times. “This is so cool!”

You felt a nudge at your feet and you raised your legs so he could sit, then did the same with your head when you felt Wanda’s hand brush across your forehead. When they were both seated, you laid your legs and head on their respective laps and the three of you settled into the comfortable position that had been adopted long after your relationship had started.

That is until you quickly sat up again. “Is that how you unpacked your house so quickly?”

Wanda smiled and nodded. She rested a cheek in the palm of her hand, endeared by your wonderment towards her powers.

“Is that you unpacked my house?”

Another nod.

“And the magic show was real— Wait.” You scowled. “But all the pulleys and stuff.”

“That was, ah, my bad,” Vision offered with a raised hand.

“Covering for him actually using his powers,” Wanda explained.

“I knew the mirrors didn’t make sense with you putting your hat through your body!” you exclaimed. “So flight, super strong, and… not sure what to call that last one. What was with you that day, by the way? You acted drunk, but you can’t get drunk!”

“I swallowed some gum,” Vision muttered, glancing away and rubbing the side of his neck. His other hand waved towards his torso as he continued, “It got all… stuck. Gummed up my gears, if you will.”

Wanda rolled her eyes at the pun. You snickered at it.

“I had to magic it out of him,” she added.

Your gaze flitted back and forth between your two superhuman partners multiple times as you took in the information. Because you were sitting between the two, this involved the turning of your head various times, which made your head swim a bit. You almost wished that they were both sitting to one side of you.

Instead of suggesting this, you settled your gaze to stare aimlessly ahead and said simply, “I’m dating two of the weirdest, coolest, most stellar people in the world. How the hell did I manage that?”

“Charisma,” Vision offered, even though you and him both knew at this point how you’d weirdly creeped on him at the office the first day the two of you met.

“Sheer force of will,” Wanda suggested, but you guaranteed she was remembering how, for the few dates you went on with them, you’d had to be reminded that you were actually on dates and that they weren’t just casual friendly hangouts.

You looked between them once more and then you wished you had suggested they sit to one side of you. Despite their steady, comfortable voices, Wanda was in the process of hiding her flustered face behind the curtain of her hair and Vision was chewing on his lip and couldn’t seem to keep his hands and feet from tapping away.

“Okay,” you said after a moment, patting your thighs to do something with your hands. “I’m grasping that you guys don’t agree with me here. Wanda, go sit by him so I don’t get whiplash from trying to look at you both.”

You and Wanda quickly switched places. You sat cross-legged on the couch to face them and Wanda and Vision shifted around to sit in a way that allowed them to face you without one blocking the other. After a moment, you waved your hands at them; the cheery air has since faded into something more somber. “What is it? Tell me why you get all quiet like that when I tell you, with evidence, why you’re the actual grooviest people I’ve ever met.”

There were a few more moments of silence before Vision went to speak first, which surprised Wanda. She looked at him, eyebrows raised high on her forehead, and lightly grasped his wrist.

“Vis?” she murmured.

He sighed softly and placed his other hand over hers. “Oh, it’s really nothing dear, I promise. It’s just… Well, you’ve heard how the people of the cul-de-sac talk about us sometimes.”

“Mean girls,” you grumbled under your breath with a nod, “the lot of them sometimes.”

Wanda seemed to suddenly sag with sadness and both you and Vision reached over quickly to hold her.

“Oh, darling,” Vision said, “It’s not your fault—”

“That’s not true,” Wanda whispered.

“It is true,” Vision said, and this time he said it with a fierceness that was familiar to you, whenever Wanda was being treated poorly by people like the Queen of the Cul-de-Sac, Dotty, or when Wanda decided to get down on herself. He grasped her shoulders tightly, squeezed them until she looked up at him. “Wanda, darling, love, I didn’t exist before I meant you. I mean, I did, of course, I did, but I was just this strange, non-human, non-machine thing that was just… kind of… there. It was you that gave me an existence, Wanda. You made me human.”

Both you and Wanda stared at him, surprised. Wanda stared because she obviously didn’t fully agree with his opinion of her. You stared because of course, you were dating two of the weirdest, coolest, most stellar, and most romantic people ever.

Get yourself a man like that, you thought. Then after a moment, Wait, that is in fact also my man.

“And you—” Vision said, turning his head in your direction.

“Oh, I’m next?” you stammered. “I thought it was Wanda’s turn.”

Vision still held Wanda but also reached over to tightly grasp your hand and bring it to his mouth. “I just wished we could have confessed to you sooner. I just hate, hate, hated lying to you and now you’re involved with all this too—”

The synthezoid with the English accent looked up at you with eyes begging forgiveness as if he’d committed one of the worst sins imaginable. You let out a hoarse laugh and ran your thumb across the side of his hand.

“I’m sorry,” you said, still chuckling as you wriggled closer to your couple, “but as much as you might like to think you’ve subjected me to something I didn’t sign up for, I’d like to point out that I’ve been about a month ahead of you. I was here before you.” You felt a nagging urge to look at Wanda and repeat the last sentence, and there was something extra special about saying it that second time like there was a double and then a triple meaning behind it, but the way you both furrowed your brows afterward made it clear that neither of you really knew what those meanings were.

Not yet, anyway.

You cleared your throat and removed your hand from Vision’s grasp to place it on the back of the couch. “I moved into this town with no husband or wife, no family, nothing but a pile of letters and a new deed to a new house that happened to be the smallest in the neighborhood. My first week here I told one man in front of the entire night watch that I thought the joke he made about his wife was distasteful, and then the week after I tripped and spilled wine all over his wife. Agnes brought because she thought I’d be a form of entertainment and we somehow ended up becoming friends over a flask that she hid in a pocket sewed into the inside of her skirt.” You offered a look to Wanda again while you mentioned that Agnes never thought your “for the children” jokes were all that funny, though. “I’ve dealt with the comments and the rumors and the ‘what’s wrong with them, they don’t have no kids!’ People are weird and they’re mean and they’re fun and they suck. You want human, dude? You got it. If I was still bothered by comments that are nothing but a bummer, I think I’d be trying a little bit more than wearing clothes that I enjoy over the clothes that are expected of me, telling Dotty she needs to stop being awful before she gets frown lines, or, you know, pining over two people—a married couple nonetheless—until I somehow seduced them with my staring at them from around corners and just generally horrible, awful attempts at eye contact.”

The married couple in question chortled at that.

You used your hand on the back of the couch to hoist yourself up on your knees so you towered over Vision just slightly.

“Here’s the thing, sunshine,” you continued, “I’m not in your boat on this one, you dorks, you’re in mine. I was here first and I don’t give a fuck.”

Wanda gave a sudden laugh. “What language.”

“Has he not told you about the time I said ‘Fuck you’ to a plastic bird in my garden?” you asked. “Multiple times? His name is Bernard and he’s plotting to kill me, I swear.”

Wanda’s troubled expression was split by a wobbly smile.

You threw up your arms in the dramatic fashion that you knew the two people in front of you loved and hollered—then quickly quieted back down to not disturb Billy and Tommy in the other room—“All this for my rambling putz ass to say, who cares about what’s outside this house! You two, and your kids, and I are the only people that matter here. Here being the house, Westview, whatever! Everyone else? Nonexistent.

“Also, just to clarify,” you paused to wave your arms around, gesturing at the entire house, “Love it here. Love this shit.”

You suddenly caught Vision’s slacked jaw in your hand and gave him a peck on the cheek. “This face? Love it.” You moved to peck a spot of silver on his skull. “Love this too.” You pecked the gem on his forehead and swore it glowed brighter in response. “Love this.” You pecked one of his ear plates. “Love these goofy things.” You pecked the tip of his nose. “Love this and the fact that you have it even though you don’t technically even need to breathe. Oh, speaking of which!”

You lifted one of his hands with one of your own and tapped on his red fingernails with your other. You caught a glimpse of his face now that yours wasn’t directly in front of it and noticed him trying to hold back a giddy smile—and failing—while he watched you from underneath red lashes; your whole body would have tried to twist itself in knots under that look if you weren’t too busy swearing to kiss those eyelids and lashes too, at another time. Instead, you pecked each fingertip of the hand you were holding. “Love these ‘useless to my design’ things too. You know what, just speaking of hands—” You dropped Vision’s hand, which made itself to your waist as you went to grab Wanda’s; you were vaguely aware that you were practically leaning into their laps at that point but that could be dealt with when you weren’t trying to make a point.

When you went to touch her, she let you hold her wrist but quickly squeezed her hand into firsts before you could hold it like you had with Vision’s. She was looking away.

You pressed a kiss to her whitening knuckles. “Wanda.”

She looked at you, her perfect face distorted by a deep sadness that almost shattered your heart on the spot. She tightened her first further. The deep emotion appeared to make her slip back into her natural Sokovian accent when she spoke again. “You don’t know the pain it’s caused.”

“I’ve done my fair share,” you affirmed even though you weren’t quite sure why. Then you kissed her knuckles again. “And maybe I don’t, but I know what good it’s caused, that you have.”

Her face twisted into an ugly grimace. She asked hoarsely, “Like what?”

“The first time I saw your face, I wanted to go to space, grab the moon, shrink it down—so it looked like one of those cool little lava rocks, you know? But prettier—and get it put on a ring,” you offered, then kissed the back of her hand and whispered, “and that’s after I found out you were married to a very attractive man too…”

Vision snorted. Wanda cracked the smallest of smiles.

You whispered lower, “And I may or may not have even been interested in marriage before that…”

That time Wanda rolled her eyes; you smiled and grabbed her other clenched hand to share the attention with. You continued, “You’re also so nice, like so nice. You are so kind and care about what people think so much, it’s almost buggy—and bordering on self-destructive but that’s not what we’re talking about— And I sort of get it now, you know, but wow, making your magic show worse for the sake of people’s sanity? Wouldn’t even be on my radar.”

Another little smile.

“I’d be like, ‘Who wants to see me turn this entire table into a rosebush! Dotty’s rosebush specifically; Dotty, I stole your rosebush.’ I actually did steal a rose from her bush that day.”

Wanda blinked and you noticed the lines of her expression weren’t as deeply etched into her face anymore.

“That was Dotty’s?”

You grinned and nodded, then kissed both of her hands. “Also, I love your hair and the way it perfectly frames your perfect face, and I love your little nose scrunches, and I love your eyelashes and the way you look at me from under them sometimes, and I’d kiss all those things but I’m not going to because I gotta get these stubborn, always-working, never-wanna-take-a-break, always-somehow-perfect-nails-having hands to relax before they hurt themselves even though it’s very clearly hard enough to make who woman who owns them do the same. Oh, I did I mention that smile—hoo, Wanda, that foxy smile…”

Wanda was blushing now and bringing up her smile made it happen again, just slightly. You took advantage of the moment anyway and flung yourself back onto the couch with a hand over your heart. “Be still, my pounding heart!”

Vision, who was watching by your and Wanda’s sides, laughed a bit. Wanda herself rolled her eyes again; the smile didn’t disappear afterward.

You sat up again and pointed at Vision, now that he’d brought attention to himself again. “And I don’t know whether you heard any of the stuff this guy said! You made him exist? You made him human? What? You two also do this thing where you just look at each other and have a whole conversation, I don’t know if you guys know you do that or not. You do, though, and I don’t know if either or both of you are psychic but if you are and still love me? With my unhinged brain? Migraines and all? I wouldn’t understand, even if you explained it to me.”

Vision offered, “Neither of us is psychic but anyway, please continue.”

“Have anything to add?”

“You’re doing wonderfully.”

“Thank you.” You looked back and Wanda, noting that her face had almost completely softened now, as she was too busy being flustered to be sad at this point. You quickly scooped her hands before they could curl into fists again placed kissed on each of the crescent moon-shaped marks now dug into their palms. “Your magic rocked your babies to sleep. Your magic cleaned up all their and put it all in one nice, neat place. You floated me around the house with your magic and even protected me from falling when I was wriggling around up there; bet that was fun for both of you to watch. Vision said earlier that that was your job, to protect me, and while I don’t fully agree because I consider it the other way around, is that not what you did?”

“I thought it was cute,” Wanda replied softly to the second to last sentence you said. She watched as you gave her hands a few more pecks.

“So, you agree then,” you said, “that your magic protected me and also made me cuter?”

She laughed and the sound made your heart soared, performing an aerial performance in your chest. She tried to wriggle her hands free from you but then you scowled and tucked them protectively under your chin.

“Gotta say it. Gotta say your magic made me cute.”

“I’m not saying that.”

You shrugged and got comfy, laying your head in her lap with her hands still hidden. “Have to. Otherwise, no hands for you. Oh, did I not mention how good you are to your kids yet? You’re so good—”

“Okay, okay, okay,” Wanda forfeited through a wet laugh. Hearing said laugh, your head shot up in concern, but the woman was smiling as she snagged your hands back; what she chose to do with them next was grab your face and place a kiss directly on your mouth.

It was quick and soft and sweet and absolutely none of that prevented the fireworks that went off in your skull and your chest and your stomach and your veins that made tingles shoot all the way down to your toes. She pulled away as quickly as she had moved in and you blinked; your brain was still short-circuiting, like a robot—like a Vision with his gears all gummed up, and your dazed brain thought that was a very funny connection, so it repeated the joke verbally.

Luckily, Vision was close enough to the level of dork that you were and he laughed at it with you.

It took a deep breath and a head shake to de-gum your brain—if only Wanda could magic that—but after the excitement wore off, you felt sleepiness start creeping in and decided to make your final push. You curled a hand around both of your partners’ necks and brought their faces closer to nuzzle your noses together; they responded by each of them wrapping an arm around your waist and returning the affectionate action.

“So, in conclusion,” you stated, which caused Vision to laugh lightly and Wanda to grin just slightly, “I love both of these perfect faces.” You kissed each of their noses. “And these funky, magical brains.” You kissed Wanda at the base of her hairline, then Vision just below his forehead gem. “And these equally funky, magical hands.” You grabbed the hands not looped around your waist and kissed the back of them. “And both of those babies, and this house, and y—”

You sucked in a sudden breath to stop yourself so hard that you almost choked and you reeled back to the other side of the couch only to drag Vision and Wanda with you. The three of you tumbled into a flustered heap on the couch and over their shoulders, you could see early morning light filtering through the windows. This barely registered, though, as you were too busy focusing on the fact that you almost L-worded them on a silly, tired whim.

Despite the awkwardness of the moment and the unspoken words, no one made a move to remove themselves from the warm, cozy entanglement. One of both Wanda and Vision’s arms was pinned under your back, keeping them solid in place against you while simultaneously and successfully enveloping you in between them; your own arms, which had instinctively wrapped protectively around their shoulders in the tumble, kept them in a similar state. Wanda’s hair fanned found and covered the three of you like a blanket, and you were keenly aware of her breath softly wafting over the exposed skin of your neck from where her head now rested on your shoulder. Vision’s rested slightly lower, on your chest, and you felt a quickened pulse where his gem pressed into your neck, but you couldn’t be sure whether it was yours or his.

You stared past their shoulders and watched as sunlight shone through the curtains and dappled the ceiling. You tried to figure out whether you were stupider for stopping yourself from finishing that sentence or for not saying it at all.

Then you felt a kiss being pressed to your clothed shoulder.

“You’ve said so many things that you’ve loved tonight [Y/N],” Wanda murmured, her hot breath causing goosebumps to rise on your skin. “What’s two more?”

“I—” you started, then bit your tongue again. There was something about saying that phrase that made you worried; you felt like if you said it now, the happy little world you lived in would begin to crumble, like it would all end far too soon. You sighed softly and said instead, “I don’t know how I would live without you.”

There were a few moments of silence where you watched more sunlight filter in and wished you could take it back because what a way to talk a big game and then not follow through—

Then Vision’s head appeared above you and he pressed a dizziness-inducing kiss to your lips. When he pulled away, he nuzzled your nose with his own as he murmured, “I love you too.”

In almost the same moment, Wanda was mumbling the same phrase against your jawline.

Sleepy and hazy-brained you couldn’t do much else but stare at Vision like a lovesick puppy that struggled to say that L-word, then snuggle back down with both him and Wanda when they relaxed against you again. That seemed to be the last of what needed to be said, though, because everything was cozy and warm and golden brown in your home again and, one by one, the three of you fell into a deep, comfortable sleep.

In the black void of otherwise dreamless sleep, you heard the vaguely familiar First Voice finish chewing something and then go, “Aww…”

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A Debunking and, in my Humble Opinion, Superior Version of Weird History’s “Hardcore Facts About Alexander Hamilton”

I haven’t updated my blog in quite some time, and that is due to my schedule being primarily dominated by school. So, I decided my first step into posting semi-regularly once more shall be a more casual, more fun endeavor.

If you have not heard of the Weird History youtube channel, good for you. It is yet another social media platform that misconstrues history to appeal to the public’s enjoyment of extremes and strangeness. I saw The Historical Fashion Queens make a video responding to their highly misinformed documentary on corsetry on Miss Abby Cox’s youtube channel, which I highly recommend. This intrigued me, and I decided to find a video I could dissect off my expertise, at first only for fun in my own time. This resulted in the production in a very long bullet list in the notes app of my phone. So here is my informal destruction of this godforsaken video.

Disclaimer: I am not at all excusing any of the awful things Alexander Hamilton did during his lifetime. I am absolutely the last person who would even come near to claiming that many of the things he did were justifiable in the slightest. Although, he might be the only historical figure which I have a very strong interest in the life of, as he was incredibly complex, and the part of me with a love of psychology finds him absolutely fascinating. There is also something to be said about the way we consider moral standards of historical figures. We are quite lucky to believe in the time that we do, and not all of our standards can apply to historical figures. This does not mean they should not be held accountable. I find that a way to criticize people while also praising them where it is due is by judging them based upon their intentions. In my opinion, Hamilton’s intentions were not to harm anyone in most situations, so I don’t think he was a terrible person, nor do I think he was a particularly good one. Then again, I don’t think either of those things about a mass majority of people, so let us proceed without further delay. (Note: I will also be referring to the collective Weird History channel as the Narrator to avoid any mental gymnastics, and all of my knowledge is coming from my memory of Hamilton’s writing and some biographies.)

Automatically, the video starts with mention of the musical, but that just reminds me that many use Ron Chernow’s biography of Hamilton as a basis of their statements about him without utilizing much critical thinking, so I am slightly nervous.

The Narrator then refers to Hammy Ham man as “...one of America’s most undervalued founding fathers...” Now, it is debatable whether or not Mr. Hamilton is undervalued per se, but when it comes to the founding fathers, they are usually undervalued or overvalued. At this point, Hamilton is both.

I shall not subscribe, thank you for the offer though, Mr. Narrator.

Now for the first fact: “Historians don’t know when Hamilton was born.” Yes, this is correct, but I don’t believe this should be labeled as “hardcore”, but perhaps that is just me. One early document indicates that Hamilton was born in 1755, while all later ones point to 1757 as his year of birth. We know Hamilton was not always a completely honest man, so it is possible that he lied.

Also, they show an image of a baby, and I do not know if this is actually Hamilton, but they use a lot of strange imagery, which I found humorous.

“A self-made man born out of wedlock.” Now, this fact could indeed be “hardcore”, if this was not colonial America we are discussing. Hamilton actually wasn’t really special in this regard. Yes, his rise to fame was impressive considering his circumstances, but this wasn’t unheard of.

The Narrator then says that Hamilton’s mother, Rachel Faucette, was “estranged from her husband.” This caused me some confusion as it is a vast understatement. Her ex-husband was absolutely awful to her.

Additionally, they claim that James Hamilton left his family behind for some reason that I did not write in my notes, but the most likely reason that he actually left was because of his awesome debt. James Hamilton also had a history of ambitious pursuits for money, so it would not be extreme to claim that he moved to another island to attempt to make a fortune in some trading endeavor.

They also cease to mention the Stevens family, who housed young Alexander while he was working for Beekman and Cruger, and had a great influence on him, but I digress.

“A college dropout who joined the Revolution.” Once again, this isn’t special. Many rowdy young Whigs left behind their careers and educations for pursuit of military fame in the Continental Army. They also do not mention anything of Hamilton’s expansive military career, which aside from being indicative of primitive research, but would produce more “hardcore facts.”

Although, they do discuss his application to Princeton college, which is interesting enough I suppose, although everyone who has heard the first two songs of the musical knows this story. His proposal for an “accelerated course of study” was likely inspired by Aaron Burr, as claimed by Chernow and Miranda, or James Madison, as supported by evidence provided by author Noah Feldman in his novel, The Three Lives of James Madison, which is an excellent read. Young Madison, having already completed a course, decided to do so again, but compacting a usually three year course into a shorter period of time. He hardly slept during this period, which was stressful upon his health, making Princeton more disinclined to allow a similar course to be taken.

The Narrator then claims that Hamilton “formed his own militia of 25 men.” Technically, yes? But not exactly. Hamilton joined a paramilitary group called the Hearts of Oak, and they drilled in Trinity Churchyard. This became ironic later. He then became a captain in the New York Artillery Company, and enlisted his own men, which was at one time around thirty or so, if my memory serves me correctly.

“Founded a bank that existed for over two centuries.” Ah, yes, a very hardcore fact indeed. Yes, Hamilton did establish the Bank of America, but Robert Morris was the one who inspired him to do so. Though, I do think the financial plan is a product of his own genius, but I will get into that much later.

I got an ad. :(

The Narrator also says that the misfortunes done to the New York shipping industry by the Articles of Confederation were the most prominent, if not sole, motivation for Hamilton to concoct his financial plan. He first recognized the need for a sound financial plan when he was in the army. You know, when he was watching men die of inadequate supplies because the government couldn’t tax the states.

This video, like Chernow’s biography and Miranda’s musical, claims that Alexander Hamilton and Aaron Burr were friends when, in actuality, they weren’t really. Yes, they knew each other, and they didn’t hate each other until the end of Hamilton’s life, but they really didn’t think about each other much before the Election of 1800.

“Hamilton authored over half of the Federalist Papers.” Indeed, he did! I enjoy this fact. It isn’t very “hardcore” but it is very impressive. The Federalist Papers were arguably Hamilton’s greatest accomplishment, as he organized the entire thing and, as previously stated, authored much of them. I very much enjoy the Federalist Papers, as they give some insight as to Hamilton’s political and philosophical theories, as well as how he thought of the world. It makes for an interesting read if you have something you’re looking for.

Now, this may be a hot take, but Madison’s essays are by far more effective, as they were better organized. Hamilton and I share a common flaw, and that is the lack of brevity.

“Involved in America’s first sex scandal.” Yes, we all know. I’ll get into the Reynold’s affair later because it’s its own beast to conquer. Basically what you need to understand information I shall provide later in this post is that James Reynolds extorted money from Hamilton, and if Hamilton failed to pay, Reynolds would expose the affair Hamilton was having with his wife, Maria. Hamilton paid, but when Reynolds was arrested for something else, he exposed Hamilton anyway.

“He worked with Aaron Burr to defend a man.” Once again, this isn’t very surprising. They were both capable lawyers in the same area, so it was basically inevitable. Though there was this one instance where Hamilton and Burr were working on a case together and Hamilton, being himself, insisted upon having the last word. Well, Burr was tired of him, and I can’t say I blame him, so he made every possible argument in his finishing speech, leaving Hamilton with virtually nothing.

The Narrator also mentions Hamilton’s opposition to slavery, but he didn’t really outwardly oppose it as much as you would think listening to the musical or reading Chernow’s biography. Far from being the “fervent abolitionist” Chernow and Miranda glorify, Hamilton didn’t really do much for the enslaved. He helped John Laurens in his Black Plan and joined the Manumission Society, but other than that, he never made any attempt to progress the abolition of slavery. He also “purchased” slaves for his in-laws, and some argue that he “owned” some himself, but there is no contemporary evidence to support this that I have seen. The enslaved and servants that were in his household likely belonged to his wife.

“Founded a newspaper that still exists.” Ok.

“Died by duel.” I swear, this fact is by far the most unnecessary. They mention the duel so many times that it is already redundant. I completely skipped over this part, and the video ended, so I was thoroughly underwhelmed.

Well, seeing as this post is already longer than my attention span, I shall save you the pains of having to read any more in just one post. I shall make a follow-up to this where I give my own facts, which I believe are far more hardcore than “he founded a newspaper.” I hope you have enjoyed and this isn’t too terribly boring. I hope to get back to posting soon.

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a-room-of-my-own · 4 years

Text

This isn’t an easy piece to write, for reasons that will shortly become clear, but I know it’s time to explain myself on an issue surrounded by toxicity. I write this without any desire to add to that toxicity.

For people who don’t know: last December I tweeted my support for Maya Forstater, a tax specialist who’d lost her job for what were deemed ‘transphobic’ tweets. She took her case to an employment tribunal, asking the judge to rule on whether a philosophical belief that sex is determined by biology is protected in law. Judge Tayler ruled that it wasn’t.

My interest in trans issues pre-dated Maya’s case by almost two years, during which I followed the debate around the concept of gender identity closely. I’ve met trans people, and read sundry books, blogs and articles by trans people, gender specialists, intersex people, psychologists, safeguarding experts, social workers and doctors, and followed the discourse online and in traditional media. On one level, my interest in this issue has been professional, because I’m writing a crime series, set in the present day, and my fictional female detective is of an age to be interested in, and affected by, these issues herself, but on another, it’s intensely personal, as I’m about to explain.

All the time I’ve been researching and learning, accusations and threats from trans activists have been bubbling in my Twitter timeline. This was initially triggered by a ‘like’. When I started taking an interest in gender identity and transgender matters, I began screenshotting comments that interested me, as a way of reminding myself what I might want to research later. On one occasion, I absent-mindedly ‘liked’ instead of screenshotting. That single ‘like’ was deemed evidence of wrongthink, and a persistent low level of harassment began.

Months later, I compounded my accidental ‘like’ crime by following Magdalen Burns on Twitter. Magdalen was an immensely brave young feminist and lesbian who was dying of an aggressive brain tumour. I followed her because I wanted to contact her directly, which I succeeded in doing. However, as Magdalen was a great believer in the importance of biological sex, and didn’t believe lesbians should be called bigots for not dating trans women with penises, dots were joined in the heads of twitter trans activists, and the level of social media abuse increased.

I mention all this only to explain that I knew perfectly well what was going to happen when I supported Maya. I must have been on my fourth or fifth cancellation by then. I expected the threats of violence, to be told I was literally killing trans people with my hate, to be called cunt and bitch and, of course, for my books to be burned, although one particularly abusive man told me he’d composted them.

What I didn’t expect in the aftermath of my cancellation was the avalanche of emails and letters that came showering down upon me, the overwhelming majority of which were positive, grateful and supportive. They came from a cross-section of kind, empathetic and intelligent people, some of them working in fields dealing with gender dysphoria and trans people, who’re all deeply concerned about the way a socio-political concept is influencing politics, medical practice and safeguarding. They’re worried about the dangers to young people, gay people and about the erosion of women’s and girl’s rights. Above all, they’re worried about a climate of fear that serves nobody – least of all trans youth – well.

I’d stepped back from Twitter for many months both before and after tweeting support for Maya, because I knew it was doing nothing good for my mental health. I only returned because I wanted to share a free children’s book during the pandemic. Immediately, activists who clearly believe themselves to be good, kind and progressive people swarmed back into my timeline, assuming a right to police my speech, accuse me of hatred, call me misogynistic slurs and, above all – as every woman involved in this debate will know – TERF.

If you didn’t already know – and why should you? – ‘TERF’ is an acronym coined by trans activists, which stands for Trans-Exclusionary Radical Feminist. In practice, a huge and diverse cross-section of women are currently being called TERFs and the vast majority have never been radical feminists. Examples of so-called TERFs range from the mother of a gay child who was afraid their child wanted to transition to escape homophobic bullying, to a hitherto totally unfeminist older lady who’s vowed never to visit Marks & Spencer again because they’re allowing any man who says they identify as a woman into the women’s changing rooms. Ironically, radical feminists aren’t even trans-exclusionary – they include trans men in their feminism, because they were born women.

But accusations of TERFery have been sufficient to intimidate many people, institutions and organisations I once admired, who’re cowering before the tactics of the playground. ‘They’ll call us transphobic!’ ‘They’ll say I hate trans people!’ What next, they’ll say you’ve got fleas? Speaking as a biological woman, a lot of people in positions of power really need to grow a pair (which is doubtless literally possible, according to the kind of people who argue that clownfish prove humans aren’t a dimorphic species).

So why am I doing this? Why speak up? Why not quietly do my research and keep my head down?

Well, I’ve got five reasons for being worried about the new trans activism, and deciding I need to speak up.

Firstly, I have a charitable trust that focuses on alleviating social deprivation in Scotland, with a particular emphasis on women and children. Among other things, my trust supports projects for female prisoners and for survivors of domestic and sexual abuse. I also fund medical research into MS, a disease that behaves very differently in men and women. It’s been clear to me for a while that the new trans activism is having (or is likely to have, if all its demands are met) a significant impact on many of the causes I support, because it’s pushing to erode the legal definition of sex and replace it with gender.

The second reason is that I’m an ex-teacher and the founder of a children’s charity, which gives me an interest in both education and safeguarding. Like many others, I have deep concerns about the effect the trans rights movement is having on both.

The third is that, as a much-banned author, I’m interested in freedom of speech and have publicly defended it, even unto Donald Trump.

The fourth is where things start to get truly personal. I’m concerned about the huge explosion in young women wishing to transition and also about the increasing numbers who seem to be detransitioning (returning to their original sex), because they regret taking steps that have, in some cases, altered their bodies irrevocably, and taken away their fertility. Some say they decided to transition after realising they were same-sex attracted, and that transitioning was partly driven by homophobia, either in society or in their families.

Most people probably aren’t aware – I certainly wasn’t, until I started researching this issue properly – that ten years ago, the majority of people wanting to transition to the opposite sex were male. That ratio has now reversed. The UK has experienced a 4400% increase in girls being referred for transitioning treatment. Autistic girls are hugely overrepresented in their numbers.

The same phenomenon has been seen in the US. In 2018, American physician and researcher Lisa Littman set out to explore it. In an interview, she said:

‘Parents online were describing a very unusual pattern of transgender-identification where multiple friends and even entire friend groups became transgender-identified at the same time. I would have been remiss had I not considered social contagion and peer influences as potential factors.’

Littman mentioned Tumblr, Reddit, Instagram and YouTube as contributing factors to Rapid Onset Gender Dysphoria, where she believes that in the realm of transgender identification ‘youth have created particularly insular echo chambers.’

Her paper caused a furore. She was accused of bias and of spreading misinformation about transgender people, subjected to a tsunami of abuse and a concerted campaign to discredit both her and her work. The journal took the paper offline and re-reviewed it before republishing it. However, her career took a similar hit to that suffered by Maya Forstater. Lisa Littman had dared challenge one of the central tenets of trans activism, which is that a person’s gender identity is innate, like sexual orientation. Nobody, the activists insisted, could ever be persuaded into being trans.

The argument of many current trans activists is that if you don’t let a gender dysphoric teenager transition, they will kill themselves. In an article explaining why he resigned from the Tavistock (an NHS gender clinic in England) psychiatrist Marcus Evans stated that claims that children will kill themselves if not permitted to transition do not ‘align substantially with any robust data or studies in this area. Nor do they align with the cases I have encountered over decades as a psychotherapist.’

The writings of young trans men reveal a group of notably sensitive and clever people. The more of their accounts of gender dysphoria I’ve read, with their insightful descriptions of anxiety, dissociation, eating disorders, self-harm and self-hatred, the more I’ve wondered whether, if I’d been born 30 years later, I too might have tried to transition. The allure of escaping womanhood would have been huge. I struggled with severe OCD as a teenager. If I’d found community and sympathy online that I couldn’t find in my immediate environment, I believe I could have been persuaded to turn myself into the son my father had openly said he’d have preferred.

When I read about the theory of gender identity, I remember how mentally sexless I felt in youth. I remember Colette’s description of herself as a ‘mental hermaphrodite’ and Simone de Beauvoir’s words: ‘It is perfectly natural for the future woman to feel indignant at the limitations posed upon her by her sex. The real question is not why she should reject them: the problem is rather to understand why she accepts them.’

As I didn’t have a realistic possibility of becoming a man back in the 1980s, it had to be books and music that got me through both my mental health issues and the sexualised scrutiny and judgement that sets so many girls to war against their bodies in their teens. Fortunately for me, I found my own sense of otherness, and my ambivalence about being a woman, reflected in the work of female writers and musicians who reassured me that, in spite of everything a sexist world tries to throw at the female-bodied, it’s fine not to feel pink, frilly and compliant inside your own head; it’s OK to feel confused, dark, both sexual and non-sexual, unsure of what or who you are.

I want to be very clear here: I know transition will be a solution for some gender dysphoric people, although I’m also aware through extensive research that studies have consistently shown that between 60-90% of gender dysphoric teens will grow out of their dysphoria. Again and again I’ve been told to ‘just meet some trans people.’ I have: in addition to a few younger people, who were all adorable, I happen to know a self-described transsexual woman who’s older than I am and wonderful. Although she’s open about her past as a gay man, I’ve always found it hard to think of her as anything other than a woman, and I believe (and certainly hope) she’s completely happy to have transitioned. Being older, though, she went through a long and rigorous process of evaluation, psychotherapy and staged transformation. The current explosion of trans activism is urging a removal of almost all the robust systems through which candidates for sex reassignment were once required to pass. A man who intends to have no surgery and take no hormones may now secure himself a Gender Recognition Certificate and be a woman in the sight of the law. Many people aren’t aware of this.

We’re living through the most misogynistic period I’ve experienced. Back in the 80s, I imagined that my future daughters, should I have any, would have it far better than I ever did, but between the backlash against feminism and a porn-saturated online culture, I believe things have got significantly worse for girls. Never have I seen women denigrated and dehumanised to the extent they are now. From the leader of the free world’s long history of sexual assault accusations and his proud boast of ‘grabbing them by the pussy’, to the incel (‘involuntarily celibate’) movement that rages against women who won’t give them sex, to the trans activists who declare that TERFs need punching and re-educating, men across the political spectrum seem to agree: women are asking for trouble. Everywhere, women are being told to shut up and sit down, or else.

I’ve read all the arguments about femaleness not residing in the sexed body, and the assertions that biological women don’t have common experiences, and I find them, too, deeply misogynistic and regressive. It’s also clear that one of the objectives of denying the importance of sex is to erode what some seem to see as the cruelly segregationist idea of women having their own biological realities or – just as threatening – unifying realities that make them a cohesive political class. The hundreds of emails I’ve received in the last few days prove this erosion concerns many others just as much. It isn’t enough for women to be trans allies. Women must accept and admit that there is no material difference between trans women and themselves.

But, as many women have said before me, ‘woman’ is not a costume. ‘Woman’ is not an idea in a man’s head. ‘Woman’ is not a pink brain, a liking for Jimmy Choos or any of the other sexist ideas now somehow touted as progressive. Moreover, the ‘inclusive’ language that calls female people ‘menstruators’ and ‘people with vulvas’ strikes many women as dehumanising and demeaning. I understand why trans activists consider this language to be appropriate and kind, but for those of us who’ve had degrading slurs spat at us by violent men, it’s not neutral, it’s hostile and alienating.

Which brings me to the fifth reason I’m deeply concerned about the consequences of the current trans activism.

I’ve been in the public eye now for over twenty years and have never talked publicly about being a domestic abuse and sexual assault survivor. This isn’t because I’m ashamed those things happened to me, but because they’re traumatic to revisit and remember. I also feel protective of my daughter from my first marriage. I didn’t want to claim sole ownership of a story that belongs to her, too. However, a short while ago, I asked her how she’d feel if I were publicly honest about that part of my life, and she encouraged me to go ahead.

I’m mentioning these things now not in an attempt to garner sympathy, but out of solidarity with the huge numbers of women who have histories like mine, who’ve been slurred as bigots for having concerns around single-sex spaces.

I managed to escape my first violent marriage with some difficulty, but I’m now married to a truly good and principled man, safe and secure in ways I never in a million years expected to be. However, the scars left by violence and sexual assault don’t disappear, no matter how loved you are, and no matter how much money you’ve made. My perennial jumpiness is a family joke – and even I know it’s funny – but I pray my daughters never have the same reasons I do for hating sudden loud noises, or finding people behind me when I haven’t heard them approaching.

If you could come inside my head and understand what I feel when I read about a trans woman dying at the hands of a violent man, you’d find solidarity and kinship. I have a visceral sense of the terror in which those trans women will have spent their last seconds on earth, because I too have known moments of blind fear when I realised that the only thing keeping me alive was the shaky self-restraint of my attacker.

I believe the majority of trans-identified people not only pose zero threat to others, but are vulnerable for all the reasons I’ve outlined. Trans people need and deserve protection. Like women, they’re most likely to be killed by sexual partners. Trans women who work in the sex industry, particularly trans women of colour, are at particular risk. Like every other domestic abuse and sexual assault survivor I know, I feel nothing but empathy and solidarity with trans women who’ve been abused by men.

So I want trans women to be safe. At the same time, I do not want to make natal girls and women less safe. When you throw open the doors of bathrooms and changing rooms to any man who believes or feels he’s a woman – and, as I’ve said, gender confirmation certificates may now be granted without any need for surgery or hormones – then you open the door to any and all men who wish to come inside. That is the simple truth.

On Saturday morning, I read that the Scottish government is proceeding with its controversial gender recognition plans, which will in effect mean that all a man needs to ‘become a woman’ is to say he’s one. To use a very contemporary word, I was ‘triggered’. Ground down by the relentless attacks from trans activists on social media, when I was only there to give children feedback about pictures they’d drawn for my book under lockdown, I spent much of Saturday in a very dark place inside my head, as memories of a serious sexual assault I suffered in my twenties recurred on a loop. That assault happened at a time and in a space where I was vulnerable, and a man capitalised on an opportunity. I couldn’t shut out those memories and I was finding it hard to contain my anger and disappointment about the way I believe my government is playing fast and loose with womens and girls’ safety.

Late on Saturday evening, scrolling through children’s pictures before I went to bed, I forgot the first rule of Twitter – never, ever expect a nuanced conversation – and reacted to what I felt was degrading language about women. I spoke up about the importance of sex and have been paying the price ever since. I was transphobic, I was a cunt, a bitch, a TERF, I deserved cancelling, punching and death. You are Voldemort said one person, clearly feeling this was the only language I’d understand.

It would be so much easier to tweet the approved hashtags – because of course trans rights are human rights and of course trans lives matter – scoop up the woke cookies and bask in a virtue-signalling afterglow. There’s joy, relief and safety in conformity. As Simone de Beauvoir also wrote, “… without a doubt it is more comfortable to endure blind bondage than to work for one’s liberation; the dead, too, are better suited to the earth than the living.”

Huge numbers of women are justifiably terrified by the trans activists; I know this because so many have got in touch with me to tell their stories. They’re afraid of doxxing, of losing their jobs or their livelihoods, and of violence.

But endlessly unpleasant as its constant targeting of me has been, I refuse to bow down to a movement that I believe is doing demonstrable harm in seeking to erode ‘woman’ as a political and biological class and offering cover to predators like few before it. I stand alongside the brave women and men, gay, straight and trans, who’re standing up for freedom of speech and thought, and for the rights and safety of some of the most vulnerable in our society: young gay kids, fragile teenagers, and women who’re reliant on and wish to retain their single sex spaces. Polls show those women are in the vast majority, and exclude only those privileged or lucky enough never to have come up against male violence or sexual assault, and who’ve never troubled to educate themselves on how prevalent it is.

The one thing that gives me hope is that the women who can protest and organise, are doing so, and they have some truly decent men and trans people alongside them. Political parties seeking to appease the loudest voices in this debate are ignoring women’s concerns at their peril. In the UK, women are reaching out to each other across party lines, concerned about the erosion of their hard-won rights and widespread intimidation. None of the gender critical women I’ve talked to hates trans people; on the contrary. Many of them became interested in this issue in the first place out of concern for trans youth, and they’re hugely sympathetic towards trans adults who simply want to live their lives, but who’re facing a backlash for a brand of activism they don’t endorse. The supreme irony is that the attempt to silence women with the word ‘TERF’ may have pushed more young women towards radical feminism than the movement’s seen in decades.

The last thing I want to say is this. I haven’t written this essay in the hope that anybody will get out a violin for me, not even a teeny-weeny one. I’m extraordinarily fortunate; I’m a survivor, certainly not a victim. I’ve only mentioned my past because, like every other human being on this planet, I have a complex backstory, which shapes my fears, my interests and my opinions. I never forget that inner complexity when I’m creating a fictional character and I certainly never forget it when it comes to trans people.

All I’m asking – all I want – is for similar empathy, similar understanding, to be extended to the many millions of women whose sole crime is wanting their concerns to be heard without receiving threats and abuse.

#Jk Rowling #Jkr #Transgender #Terf #Gender critical #Radfem

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system-of-a-feather · 3 years

Note

How do you feel about endos? Just curious.

Oookay, Riku will probably never get around to this, and while Riku wants to “get all the aspects” addressed in a “diplomatic” manner because it is a “complex and multifaceted discussion”, but they are over thinking this and will literally never do it so I’ll go with the really rough outline that they started and fill it in with what I know of our system.

Sorry if I sound really inflammatory, I’m not a diplomatic person lel

Also, for comedy sake, I am going to maintain everything Riku kept in this outline and try my best to fill it out. A lot of this I am completely lost on so, there will be moments where I am clearly confused lel

I may get some of our opinions “wrong” because I’m kind of taking a guess from my access of the brain, so I apologize if Riku looks at any asks or reblogs we might get from this and goes WHY DID ADERIS SAY THAT?! I’m trying my best

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Overall TLDR Opinion: So as a system, we don’t like to be too involved in it publicly. Its a multilayered complex topic with too much nuance for it to be worth advocating for or against, and with how large of a cultural phenomenon it is, it isn’t going to change with us. We don’t think it is likely that DID can be formed without trauma, but we also don’t write it off fully. We strongly however do not like “intentional” systems and find it really offensive and gross. With that being said, we also recognize issues in being too forward about that, so we don’t bother with it much.