#social issues in fiction

[rozmorris]

How to make a true-life account into a compelling story, or how to make Masters of Sex from Masters of Sex

I thoroughly enjoyed the Channel 4 series Masters of Sex, about Dr William Masters and Virginia Johnson, the pioneers of sexual research in the 1950s and 1960s. I then read the factual book it’s based on by Thomas Maier and was surprised by how different it is. While the drama feels very faithful to the facts, the scriptwriter, Michelle Ashford, has extensively reshaped the material to create a…

[ripplestitchskein]

I think the thing I am looking forward to MOST with Helluva Boss is when it’s Stolas’s turn to deal with his issues and we get the Stolas equivalent of a Blitzø Sucks party and all the ”But Stolas did bad things too! And he’s the worst for not acknowledging that” come to the realization that “Oh…they were getting to that bit of the ongoing story that is currently in progress and is nowhere near done and maybe if I had just waited and given them the benefit of the doubt I would have seen all the clues and indicators they dropped that this would be an upcoming character storyline. Looking back it was actually very obvious they had not just forgotten and brushed over it to make Stolas “look good””

But then of course we’ll still get the “HA, VivziePop must have seen how mad we got and added that in just to make Stolas look better and justify this dysfunctional relationship between *checks notes* an isolated Demon Prince and a traumatized Hell Born Imp In Literal Hell”

So maybe I’m not looking forward to it.

[myfandomrealitea]

Honestly if my support system weren't extremely anti I'd be more comfortable reblogging and doing stuff that's proship. I have a recognizable art style sadly, and very niche ideas that I've already shared with 'safe' ships so I fear that it'd be extremely easy to get figured out. A couple of them know where I live so its very likely at least one of them would try and do severe damage to my personal life (transphobic family) I've been trying to connect with other proship people, but so far, no luck.

If its possible for you, create a second blog. Not a side-blog, an actual second blog. Build a completely fake identity from scratch. Pick a name wildly different from your own, carefully craft the visual identity of that blog so it looks nothing like your own.

And go fucking ham.

Its still you. You're not an imposter. You're not a fake. You might not be able to be who you are in your "main space" for your personal safety, but you can carve out the freedom to be who you are within the safety net of being anonymous.

Build a community on that blog. Build a support network that isn't going to collapse under you the moment you step on the wrong plank.

The thing about 'niche' is that the world is still so very, very vast and there are still so very many people within it. And in the era of communication its ever easier for people with the same interests and ideas to cross paths. Practice a different art style. Mingle with the people who share your ideas. Spread your ideas far and wide so you're not a shade of red in a sea of blue. Everyone is purple.

I know its very easy for me to say these things and make it out like its so simple. I know its not. I know its risky, and scary, and hard work. But its a chance. Its an opportunity, if you're ever ready to at least attempt it.

[whereserpentswalk]

The Night Hunt

I need to eat. It’s not eating anymore. It doesn’t feel like thirst or hunger. It’s not something I would have understood as a human. I feel like I’m going to die. I don’t want to die. I don’t think anyone would mind if I did. My mouth is shaped so differently than it once was, I can’t move my jaws, I feel empty, I need it to fill me, and I feel empty.

The upper west side vampiric community center was cramped, getting everything it could from limited funds and real estate. The walls were white and the lighting sterile, their deadness only broken by overly enthusiastic posters. It was strange looking at the other vampires in the building, most of them seemed to be doing much better than me. Even most of the ones that ones you could tell weren’t human at a glance usually looked more human than me. It felt like everyone I saw was doing better than me, the petite girl in a black dress talking to her parents on the phone, the bearded man with cats eyes dressed in fancy clothes he had probably owned some version of for centuries, the snake mouthed person guzzling down a can of commercially sold blood like it was soda. I could assume a lot of the vampires I saw here had supportive families, and many others were old enough to be well adjusted to their lives. It almost hurt looking at vampires who could pass better than me, or who could better mask vampiric traits, this embarrassing envy, that I was a monster even by the standards of monsters.

I could have socialized, but I was too tired, and too thirsty. I had just been denied a good behavior slip by the New York State government, and thus denied a month’s supply of donated blood, and the building stopped being somewhere I wanted to be. Most vampires can’t get a good behavior slip, A lot don’t even try just because of how humiliating and restrictive life during the audit can be. A lot of them live off of relatives’ and friend’s blood, or buy it wholesale. I don’t have the option for either of those, at least not consistently.

I walked up Broadway, when I left, below the safety of the dark sky, and the calming yellow light of the windows, past the old brick buildings of a childhood that now seems alien to me. Best to get outside time in while I can, it’s summer, giving me few hours before the sun rises. It’s strange to remember when I walked down that street as a human. That deep loss of something I can remember but will never feel once more. Remembering how easy things were. When the restaurants smelled good to my body, instead of sickly sweet. It would’ve made me cry to see myself reflected in a window, if my eyes had tears to cry. To see I was the type of vampire other even other vampires shunning, too vampiric perhaps, to close to what they all fear being, too close to what they’re all accused of. I used to think of losing my humanity was a horrible fate, and now I am the bad ending for so many other nonhumans. I wonder how many of my kind’s advocates think I’m worthy of oppression. They say not all vampires look horrifying to humans, but I look horrifying to humans. They say not all vampires think violent thoughts about humans automatically, but I find myself doing that so often. They say not all vampires are weak to sunlight, or are hurt by symbols of their prior faith, but I am, and it hurts, and if acceptance means telling people it doesn’t hurt I’ll just get hurt more.

I tried to think of something to distract myself. Tried to think of friends who still cared about me, about that show I wanted to finish, tired to think about that Lord of the Rings fanfic that I wrote in middle school that I had though about on that street, on a bright day so alien to the humid night I walked through. No matter what I thought about there was always blood in the back on my mind. Even when a vampire isn’t thinking about blood directly, when they’re low, as almost fatally low as I was, it’s always able to be felt in the background. I could feel my body’s desire for blood, feel the pain and weakness of not having it. It was strange, to know that my body hurt because it wanted like, that my body only transformed into a vampire because it would have died from being bitten by one if it hadn’t. My body wanted to live as a vampire so much more than I did. My hands shook, my gate more unbalanced, more stumbling than it usually was, my twisted and inhuman mouth, the most inhuman part of my body, salivating. The staggered and almost animalistic walk must have made me look even more like a monster. The pigeons flew away when they saw me, they must have known, or maybe that’s just what pigeons are like.

 My once tan skin now so pale my organs are visible, my once fit body now skinny, my brown eyes forever white, and my mouth perfectly round and unmoving and filled with sharp tooth after sharp tooth like a lamprey. All so perfect to drink blood, all built to drain blood. It hurts to think I’ll probably be in this body for centuries. The same hoodie I’d been wearing for days still covers me a bit, as does my mess of uncut hair, I don’t really have to wash these things without human oils on my body anymore. It’s not good to think too long about that fact. There is no wonder my parents would rather consider their precious daughter basically dead, than know that she lived as this. I might do the same if I had a choice. I think about when I was turned sometimes, how I didn’t get to be turned out of love, or lust, or spite, how the bite was meant to kill me, how it would have killed me if I wasn’t rushed to the hospital, or if I hadn’t fought the attacker off. I never even knew the name of the vampire who attacked me. I didn’t know why he did at the time, I assumed it was from hate, I understand now, I would never defend attacking someone like that but I understand, he was hungry, I know how it feels to want blood like how he must have. People would have had me better in their memories if I had died, nobody admits it, but it’s true, my parents convinced themselves I had on religious grounds, saying my soul had left my body, I understand why, my reputation was not tarnished.

As I walked past stores and restaurants that had closed hours earlier, saw how little the world wanted me. I wondered how I would keep existing. I remembered that my transformation has made it so I wouldn’t age, couldn’t die a natural death at all, I realized how strange it would be for me to exist in a body like the one I did for hundreds more years, thousands if I got lucky. There was the feeling that maybe I’d be murdered, most of society didn’t even want the most human passing, most privileged vampires to live, it sucked even for people who had it so much better than me, maybe I’d just die, maybe one of those monster hunter gangs would finally due me in like they always threaten to online. But what if I didn’t, what if I had to still live. If I actually had put the work in to having positive relationships with the community maybe some vampiric elder would be able to tell me. As it was I felt lost, I didn’t know what I could be doing a hundred years from where I stood. Would things be better than, for me, for us? Would I be ok?

For a moment my eye caught a girl around my age. As a human I would have felt lust for her, she had that exact look that I used to like. Glistening hair dyed a candy colored red, a pale pink Cowboy Bebop t-shirt covering her chest. I would have felt lust, or perhaps a more noble sounding attraction, but now that part of me is gone, and seeing a young healthy body like that just makes me think about what it would be like to drink her instead of making me think about being in bed with her. I knew it was wrong, but it would feel so good, to feel my mouth punch into her neck, and drain her dry. I don’t want to feel this way, the logical part of my brain doesn’t like feeling this way, but it’s a feeling in my body. When I looked at her soft skin my teeth ever so slightly extended outwards, and the tiredness from the pain of thirst temporarily ceasing as my body filled with energy, my dreaming mind fantasizing about holding her as I drank her blood, as ashamed as I am of such thoughts, as little as I’d want to ever hurt someone like her, it felt so good in the moment just to fantasize. It was the closest I still had to feeling anything sexual or romantic, as many social media posts as there are telling you it’s a myth that all vampires lose their sexual or romantic feelings, it’s true for me, I don’t even have breasts or sex organs anymore, as horrifying as that is to even acknowledge about myself. Just another thing that makes me seem less human, and just another thing that makes drinking human blood seem to desirable. I didn’t want to hurt her, just looking at her walking, she seemed so happy, so pure.

I did nothing, yet she still crossed the street. I understood, it was late, and I was a ragged looking vampire walking near her, she had a right to feel safe. I ran, as thirsty as my body was I didn’t want to be near her, and didn’t want to cause a scene.

Best to flee uptown, Time Square is filled with Faeries, and Central Park with werewolves, and neither take kindly to my kind in the places they tend to hang out. There is a safety in being human, despite all the stories of young maidens scratched up in monster’s arms, with blood contrasting on top of their pretty white skin, most monsters with ill wills are way more likely to target other species of monster rather than humans. Humans are often well armed, and well defended by the law, and so many monsters are so eager to prove their kind’s validity through their hatred of another species of monster.

My running only stopped when I had to cross the street to avoid a church. One of those big ornate ones you’d see a vampiric villain hang out in in a thriller movie, with that shining stained glass they haven’t built in generations. They say it’s not anything divine that burns vampires that are weak to holy symbols, it’s just the memory of faith that hurts, the memory of the most human of all actions. Doesn’t change the fact that the pope still says we don’t have souls. The church ghosts all fled, they floated somewhere else just from seeing me, I wanted to yell to them “What? Are you too good even to haunt me.” I didn’t of course, I didn’t want to cause a scene. Maybe I would have if I wasn’t so weak from thirst.

I can’t get blood. The state won’t give it to me. My friends would say no if I asked. I can’t afford to buy it. I dropped out of school when I was turned, there wasn’t accommodation, and late classes were hard to get. Most of the friends I still have either treat me like a tragedy to fawn over, or like I could kill them at any time, they’re only human after all. I guess that’s why they recommend socializing with other monsters. I barely look for work anymore, even well-meaning humans are uncomfortable around me, though to be fair I’ve done nothing not to make them uncomfortable, and it’s impossible to ask them to close daytime windows, or keep silver and garlic away.  I spend so much time on the internet. I didn’t ask for this. I didn’t ask to be this thirsty. I don’t want to look this way, and I don’t want to need blood. I never chose any of this, never chose to be bitten, never chose to be saved.

For a moment I saw another person on the street, alone with me. Some rich kid staggering drunk and barely knowing where he is, a sweatshirt from some fancy wizarding school clinging on to his body. His rosy yet pale cheeks, so vulnerable, not so privileged that he could hurt me, just privileged enough to feel like every bad though I could have towards him was punching up. He was the exact type of asshole that I’d expect to call me a slur, to be proud that wizards like him had engaged in just enough vampire hunts in the thirties and forties to be considered another type of human. But he didn’t. He didn’t notice me at all, he just sang to himself with his earbuds in and his eyes glued to his phone as he stumbled past closed stores.

I can smell blood on his lips. I remember that there is another way to quench my thirst. I’d have to drain him dry so that nobody would know. I don’t want to. I don’t want to be that type of vampire. His body is so fresh, I’d be full for like a year. I can’t stop looking at him and remembering my life. He’ll run but I can catch up to him, and he’ll taste so good. And I would be so hard to catch if I drained him to death, he’s a stranger, the case would go cold. I need blood, and he has blood, it’s like a trolly problem, you don’t need sadism to pick yourself when you’re tied to the tracks. And I can’t think of another way I could get blood before starving to death.  It feels weird to grab his wrist as he struggles, too thirsty to think too deeply. I don’t want to look at his face when he screams, but something deep within me is excited to hear a human scream. I feel sorry for him I think, he didn’t deserve this, I didn’t deserve this, if things were different… well they aren’t different. God my voice sounds demonic with this mouth. “I’m sorry, but I have to do this.”

[shouts-into-the-void]

I'm becoming more and more convinced that everyone mad about the changes made in the Percy Jackson series just don't have critical thinking skills

[brucewaynehater101]

Does anyone keep a list of good fics and/or posts that examine DC and their plotlines and characterizations that are classist/racist/sexist/homophobic/etc.?

The posts that examine Bruce and his mentality towards criminals sometimes veering towards classism or propagating capitalist ideals are super interesting and valid. Fics that examine how character dynamics reflect real-world dynamics of social issues and injustice are extremely significant takes on the DC universe and our current life.

To get the ball rolling, the fic "Rebel Without a Claus" by DangerBeckett on AO3 examines how Tim's upbringing (and his parents) might cause his perceptions on social issues to be warped. It's a great fic because Jason and Tim meet at galas and don't quite understand each other's perspectives. It examines the complexity of opinions and viewpoints (especially on privilege and bias).

[greenconverses]

there’s just something about this bit that encapsulates everything’s that wrong with the way riordan writes now but i can’t quite put my finger on what it is

[anxietyfrappuccino]

virginia woolf wrote, "a woman must have money and a room of her own if she is to write fiction," and for fucking real i started writing less fiction (and in general) around the time money became a thing i had to worry about. i have not recovered. i will probably never recover. i fucking hate it here.

[iamnmbr3]

Wow. Just saw a critique of a story that deals with the topic of ableism saying that it is ableist since it depicts the central character being persecuted because of a disability but never has any of the other characters say that the ableism is wrong.

Like the argument is literally that because the sympathetic main character is persecuted due to a disability but none of the other characters turn to the metaphorical camera and are like "oh this is actually ableist and bad" somehow the creator is condoning that behavior instead of critiquing it. Even though that CLEARLY was not the intent.

Critical thinking skills really are dead huh? When will people learn that depicting something is not the same as condoning it?!

[rubyof-thesea]

dare i say it………… i think eloise bridgerton is autistic

[rotisseries]

I'm so unbelievably susceptible to the famous secret relationship trope it's unreal actually

[myfandomrealitea]

ok I’ll be honest, I was one of the people who approached your safe space post with the mindset “yeah, but…” like, I now whole-heartedly agree that there should absolutely be fandom spaces devoid of real world issues. We all need our spaces to rest and relax. I think I just felt weird about your post because previously ive been in fandom spaces which did operate on the (perfectly fine) rule of ‘no politics’…but ‘politics’ would also include talking about a gay ship or any queer headcannons.

That obviously wasn’t fair to you because you obviously didn’t mean that w/ your post, but I can personally see as to why some people would feel that way if they were in similar fandom spaces. I do still want to reiterate I do agree with your post and I think some of the rebloggers took it…a bit far? Like Jesus Christ some of y’all need to eat a snickers. I also think some of the wording like “bitching about world issues” and “whining about their shitty parents” might’ve thrown me off but that’s not your fault and really a non-issue 🤷🏽‍♀️

you can delete this ask if you want I really won’t mind, I think I can just see as to why there were so many ‘yeah, but…’ rebloggers.

I actually really appreciate asks like this. For a multitude of reasons, but also because it gives really good insight and outer perspective for both me and other people who are aware of or involved in the discussion.

I think what a lot of people don't yet grasp about me is that while I may hold an opposing view to yours (general, not directed), in the vast majority of cases I still very much understand why people would think the way they do and where that thought process comes from and goes.

Its very, very easy to fall into the mindset of thinking that not helping when you have the ability to makes you a bad person or however in/directly causes suffering. Its very easy to be in the mindset of one single individual making a magnitude of difference.

I fully and genuinely understand and comprehend a lot of the points being brought up.

I just don't agree with them and hold a different outlook on those issues.

For example:

Talking about enjoying a queer ship to me is not 'political' in the sense that, personally, if you're a homophobe and upset by generic conversations about queer people, I really could not give a fuck. And if you raise objections to me talking about two dudes kissing, I'm simply going to remove you from my space because clearly it is not beneficial for either of us to share it. And I made it.

Its obviously very very much down to personal discretion to decide where that line is and what that bracket encompasses, but I think the most universal aspect of that safe space post was trying to get people to understand that forcing others to suffer in solidarity isn't activism and that strangers are not obligated to allow you to use them as support and a dumping ground for your needs.

Spreading around videos of people's dead loved ones isn't activism.

Spamming taglines and buzzwords on completely unrelated posts and videos isn't activism.

Relying on complete strangers for emotional and mental support and regulation while dumping vulnerable, graphic, personal information on them is neither safe nor healthy.

People are not obligated to smother or confine their happiness because of your misery. If you're having a bad day you have no right to tell other people they can't be happy in front of you.

A lot of people, mostly white knighters and people of color took the post as "a white privileged pig saying its okay to let racism slide because you want to play your video games" (actual hate mail I received) and that's so laughably and wildly far from the actual basis of the post.

I've had bigots in my servers before. Homophobes or racists who've slipped through the cracks.

You know what happens when they say something homophobic or racist?

They're immediately removed, blocked and reported, and their information is placed in a private document I keep. I issue an apology to the members of the server for their actions, and life goes on.

People are, of course, entitled to take the post as they see fit. They're entitled to their own perspectives and opinions. I'm more than happy to simply focus on the people who have taken support, guidance and solace in the post.

[whereserpentswalk]

It really sucks how a lot of media enjoyers seem to equate genre or tone with politics. Like the way some people so vehemently think certain sub genres of scifi have political messages preloaded into them when they really don't.

Star Wars is a great example of this problem. So many bad Star Wars takes are either from people who think the fact that it's a fairytale in space makes it so it can't be an anti fascist text, or from people who think that it being an anti fascist text makes it so it can't be a fairytale in space. It's even leaked into movies, 1, 7 and 9 seem to think it's an apolitical story because of it's tone, while 2, 3 and 8 all seem to think that the silly elements have to be removed to make the politics work (and end up creating new, less intentional silly elements).

It really sucks when people refuse to take a peice of media as it is when they analyze it. Literally any tone or genre can be used to tell a story with almost any political leaning, but they'll still be using the conventions of that genre to tell it. To go back to our star wars example, you have to accept it both as a fairytale and as a political text to understand the symbolism behind things like why there are no grey jedi, or why stone age dog people can defeat an army with mechs and laser guns. Not to harp on the Star Wars example for too long but you can understand the dark side better from that one cave scene than you can from a thousand pages of information on a wiki.

Like, cyberpunk has this problem a lot, where people think cyberpunk is inherently leftist because it has leftist origins. But a lot of cyberpunk works are just kind of reactionary, especially when you look at the way a lot of works in that genre deal with disability or depictions or non western cultures. Or the countless conversations about weather superheros are fascist, when it just doesn't make sense to assume something like the original Xmen has the same politics as a multimillion dollar crossover movie funded by the US marines. It also goes for themes across tones and genres, like how the Cthulhu mythos and Lotr have very diffrent vibes, but their fucked up racial politics are the same, so they kind of came together to create modern fantasy's ideas about race.

Idk if any of this makes sense. The star wars part of this essay thing ended up longer then expected. Feel free to get mad over my hot takes because of things I implied about your blorbos. I don't know how to end this. Please reblog with any opinions you have, or just if you agree.

[bruciemilf]

AND there are canons where Bruce is perfectly well-adjusted, has hobbies, hangs out with his friends, loves his family, and is a perfectly normal, sweet guy other than the whole "billionaire and Batman" thing. But Alfred gets all the blame and none of the credit with you "Alfred was a bad parent" people.

But??? I never said?? Alfred was bad???

[blacksapphicguide]

The Watermelon Woman (Movie)

1990s movie. Directed by and starring Cheryl Dunye.

Plot points:

Fiction.

Amateur filmmaker.

Interracial relationship dynamics.

Social black issues.

Black film history in Hollywood.

Friendship.

Interracial sapphic couple (primary); black sapphic couple (secondary).

Black sapphic characters:

Cheryl [lesbian] (Cheryl Dunye) Tamara [lesbian] (Valarie Walker) Fae 'The Watermelon Woman' Richards [lesbian] (Lisa Marie Bronson) Stacey (Jocelyn Taylor) June (Cheryl Clarke) Shirley (Ira Jeffries) Yvette (Kat L Robertson)

Connections:

Cheryl x Diana (interracial sapphic) Tamara x Stacey (black sapphic) Fae x Martha (interracial sapphic) x June (black sapphic)

Sex & Nudity - Moderate

One scene of a sapphic couple laying in bed, assumed, after sex. Breasts and butts are visible briefly.

A fully nude sex scene.

Violence & Gore - None

Profanity - Mild 

Alcohol, Drugs & Smoking - Mild

Smoking: Low frequency of cigarettes and joints.

Alcohol: Socially, low frequency.

Frightening & Intense Scenes - None

[moonmoonthecrabking]

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