#but we need to be able to talk about how someone can be both oppressed and perpetuate oppression

[genderkoolaid]

Kind of related to the 't makes you a mansplainer' thing I'm always amazed by thr difference in the way people perceive my music now. Pre t people thought it was cool that I played guitar but the second my voice started dropping and my beard started coming in people started getting annoyed by it. I started getting "no one wants to hear wonderwall" (I've never played that song) and "we don't need another man with an acoustic guitar". I don't even pass yet. That shift was instantaneous. And it's from the exact same people who thought it was cool before at a queer drop in center i go to, they used to turn down the music playing in the center because people were listening to me, going through my songbook and making requests. Now I'm lucky if I can play 1 song before someone tells me to stop because "no one wants to hear another man with an acoustic guitar"

It really hurts makes me want to quit playing.

Like I know t ruined my singing voice but damn, I just want to play my guitar I worked hard to teach myself to play.

Its so aggravating to me how cis, binary feminism has people treating trans men like we aren't an oppressed group. Erasing all of our unique experiences and struggles and perspectives to make us seem like Cis Men But Short And Weird. Your experience reminds me of people talking about how they went from being praised for being a woman in a male-dominated field to being ashamed of transitioning because they "failed" to "be a role model". In both cases, there's this assumption that trans men don't need support, that our accomplishments aren't hard-won, that we never struggle to make a place for ourselves in society. I mentioned in the notes of a post how we need a good word to describe being unfairly cast as an oppressor to cover up/ignore oppression (not just for transandrophobia but also antisemitism) because its so fucking concerning!! Its like people are specifically blinding themselves to trans men's transness and doing everything in their power to act like we're cis men. And its because thats basically what cis feminism does- there are only two roles, Woman (oppressed) and Man (oppressor), and by and large it only has two ways of reacting to trans men: either we're oppressed (by misogyny and nothing else) Women, or we're oppressors and Men. There isn't any way for us to place ourselves in this binary without harming ourselves. And so much of the time, this ideology ends up with us being punching bags for other people to take out their anger and trauma from cis men at an target they can have power over, while justifying it by saying that we're privileged men who need to suck it up and stop being so sensitive.

I'm going on a tangent but the point is: I'm mad as fuck that you are getting treated like this. I absolutely do want to hear more trans men playing acoustic guitar, because I never get to see trans men doing fucking anything! Being recognized as men and as equally male as cis men should not have to come at the cost of being recognized and supported like other marginalized genders. I'm so sorry you've had to go through that and I hope you are able to find people & a community that celebrates you and your talents like you deserve.

#m. #ask box #experiences with transandrophobia

[vasito-de-leche]

;R1999 DIKKE - General Headcanons

Compilation of headcanons and analysis on Dikke as a character and other related things.

as promised, here's the Dikke post where I go deranged talking about her, since it was one of the two with the most votes in the poll <3

the other popular result was to talk about the parallels and use of racial issues within the story, how the game replaces actual racism for fantasy racism (arcanists vs humans) - so that one will deffo take me some time!

On the subject of justice and Dikke's inspirations.

I've seen some people say that Dikke is based on Joan of Arc, given her righteousness and religious themes - but there are so many more details about her design that point toward other figures!

Like, really. A lot of references to law and deities of justice all throughout history and different cultures.

The most obvious one is Dike, "goddess of justice and the spirit of moral order and fair judgement". In Dikke's interview with Pandora Wilson, they literally address her as "the goddess of justice". And a small statue of Lady Justice, the personification of justice that originates from Justitia (roman equivalent of Dike) can be seen in her insight 2 garment.

It goes without saying that Dikke's sword is another symbol representative of the previously mentioned figures - but to have only the sword and not the scales could have some implications about her way of imparting justice.

I would like to point out that Dikke's sword has these two dangling pieces that allude to the scales she's missing in her design. And sure, it might be a reach, but given how much detail and thought goes into the characters of the game and their designs, I really believe this is the case!

On Dikke's items, we also get the name and description for the sword.

The name alone leads me to believe that Dikke's weapon and its design represents both the sword and the scales of Lady Justice, it's the totality of justice itself. Dikke WIELDS justice, she ENFORCES justice, she IS justice. You're going to get really tired of me repeating the word justice in this post, but bear with me!

On the subject of swords, there are two swords mentioned all throughout Dikke's in-game profile and information. Her insight 2 garment is titled "Sword of Hamurabi".

This is evocative of something called the "Code of Hammurabi", one of the longest legal texts dating back to the first dynasty of Babylon. According to wikipedia, this stele it also depicts yet another deity of justice, Shamash. Wikipedia also makes note of the prologue within the Code of Hammurabi, in which the author - Hammurabi - claims to have been given these rules "to prevent the strong from oppressing the weak". This is extremely relevant to Dikke, as someone who fought hard for the rights of arcanists.

Pandora Wilson: I have heard many legends about you. The violent ghost of punishment, the crime-slaying sword of execution, the goddess of justice, the people's savior... Dikke: The desperate always need hope.

The stele of the Code of Hammurabi is ALSO relevant, because the artifact that follows Dikke around explicitly "belongs to some ancient stele". Yet another object that embodies justice and law.

I won't pretend I know anything about Babylonian culture or history in general, so anyone with more insight on this is welcome to add on to details and corrections!

The second sword mentioned can be found in the title for her 02 Story - "The Sword of Damocles".

This excerpt seems to be written by one of Dikke's coworkers, perhaps someone in a higher position of power since they mention being able to give others a day off. Overall, we're reading the thoughts of someone who is abusing their power and who does not think highly of Dikke.

"The story of Damocles is but a story" is something that Dikke herself says. At the end, there's a different phrase written and crossed out - "But the story of justice is not just a story".

Now, the anecdote of Damocles talks about how positions of authority and power are double-edged swords - a king may have all the riches and fortune in the world, but also be burdened with the anxiety of knowing there might be someone plotting against him. In the story, Damocles switches places with king Dionysus, to know what it's like to be a king, but to really make Damocles understand the position of king, a sword is placed above him - one that can fall and kill him at any moment.

With this in mind, Dikke's 02 Story becomes more clear - the first phrase is a warning given by Dikke herself to those in positions of power. The story of Damocles is a story, because not everyone will understand the consequences of being in a position of power. Not everyone will be given the opportunity to even reach such a position.

The author of the 02 Story is not a good person, only considering the idea of giving people HALF a day off, excluding those who work on the fields who will get nothing, refusing to lower taxes for the poor, and imprisoning someone who "interfered with the lord's land acquisition".

The sword of Damocles is also used to allude to the impending tragedy for those in positions of power, caused by the smallest of catalysts. So it makes sense to me that the final phrase, the one crossed out at the end, was either written by Dikke or alludes to the demise of this author at her hand.

And while we're at it, might as well talk about the last remaining item - her robes. Judges are required to wear these when working on trials, but Dikke is specifically stated to wear them outside of them - because she's always imparting justice. She's the opposite of Oliver Fog, she's always on the clock.

We haven't even gotten to another big aspect of Dikke's character - the fact that she's part of the Inquisition.

Without getting too much into actual historical events, the Inquisition as we know it focused on heresy and the conversion and persecution of Jews and Muslims. Within the game, this is recontextualized as a focus for arcanists instead. It's worth noting that her 01 and 02 Stories are written from the perspective of those who are in support of the Inquisition and its practices, or who profit from abusing their own power - hence the wording of "the Inquisition has been abused and considered evil by the ignorant."

There is an emphasis on how the Inquisition seeks power, while Dikke's final goal is justice.

This whole thing and yet another part from her interview with Pandora Wilson, is related to how Dikke associates herself with the corrupt and allows people to view her as a needlessly violent person for the sake of setting things right. On one hand, she could associate with the Inquisition and become a bishop to destroy corruption from inside out - on the other, she could acknowledge that to impart justice, one needs power because they're things that go hand in hand. The Inquisition is only able to have this much influence over trials for arcanists because of the common hatred towards arcanists throughout history.

The interview revolves around all the rumours surrounding Dikke, and we can see her showing distaste at the idea of cooperating with "what [she] shouldn't allow for the sake of justice" while at the same time, not denying her involvement with them. All the things she does are a means to an end.

Pandora Wilson: Does that mean you will cooperate with what you shouldn't allow for the sake of "justice"? Dikke: Fie. Pandora Wilson: Is that supposed to be a secret? Dikke: It sounds like we are talking about a conspiracy, yet it is but a means.

As for Dikke's own relationship with justice and her personal views outside of all the historical references used to create her character, I think this voiceline she has pretty much sums things up nicely.

Everything I doth… is so I may enjoy this calm wind on nights like this, rather than hear the sorrowful cries and moans of unhappiness.

She's a character that is strict in her ways and doesn't shy away from the darker aspects of life, such as the injustice arcanists have been subjected to for centuries. This extreme focus she has for upholding justice does cause Dikke to appear cold, and yet her ideals are almost childish, pure even - a world in which all misdeeds are punished and all good people are heard. Hell, her Ultimate literally purifies all negative statuses.

Dikke could easily lean towards righteous characters who exclusively see things as black or white, yet many of her voicelines and the origin of her devotion, show a very gentle heart. This is made clear by the fact that she's a healer.

Her two attacks and their names speak volumes about her own ways of thinking. Power is violent, power is not something that a judge should have so carelessly, but it is allowed in the name of "justice". Justice in quotations.

And then, actual justice is a rare occurrence, being merciful is not something that rules and the law take into account, but it's needed for those who cannot defend themselves.

On the subject of Dikke's backstory.

There's no resolution to this point, it just came up randomly while writing the previous one, because it just hit me that Dikke's Cover profile does not list where she was born. And that got me thinking about the fact that before settling down, she traveled all around Europe.

First of all, the Roman Catholic Diocese of Pamiers is an extremely specific location - one that has ties to the Inquisition, as a very important document regarding the Inquisition's procedures during a very specific trial was found there, as far as I know with my surface level research into history references. This document also talked about how, within this trial, the inquisitor and the bishop had "almost equal responsibility".

We can assume that this is the place where Dikke became bishop officially, if this was her final destination.

This starts to fall within headcanon territory, since it's mostly speculation, but I feel that the 02 Story takes place before she becomes bishop and settles in Pamiers - as a member of the inquisiton, she must've traveled all over Europe to do her job.

There might also be something related to the name mentioned, "Murville", but I don't have time nor the brain to start connecting the dots with actual french history. All in all, I like to think that Dikke was given the position of bishop as an attempt to distance her from, you know, killing every single corrupt person in a position of power by keeping her in a single place.

None of her voicelines give away anything about her life prior her entire journey of justice, as far as I can tell.

If we take Dikke's ties with Joan of Arc, maybe she was a common girl roped into things beyond her control. But I personally don't like the interpretation of Dikke's ideals being born from divine intervention instead of her own experiences, seeing the crimes committed against arcanists and realizing that she would like to do something about it.

Another option I'd like to explore about her background - maybe Dikke did have a relatively safe and normal childhood, away from the stigma and persecution. A nice, gentle life that she willingly gave up after she was confronted with the reality of the state of the world, without Jean of Arc's holy realization. To me, there needs to be an emphasis on Dikke's choice and decision to fight corruption. Making this dedication a result of "God told me to do this" would render her a little shallow - not to say religion cannot be part of her character, but in my opinion, Dikke is best when the focus of her moral compass is a genuinely care for the weak and the defenseless.

On the subject of Dikke and the loss of humanity.

Yes, that's THREE characters in a row that I analyze and that have themes of loss of humanity. There's just so many characters who've lost or given up their own humanity for the sake of something greater or something wicked.

Pavia's was a result of how he was mistreated and as a way to reclaim power, Forget Me Not's was a self-imposed torture originating from his inability to take responsibility. Dikke's seems to be self-imposed as well, but unlike the previous two, her loss of humanity is more of a sacrifice she makes for the greater good.

In her voicelines, we see that she leads a very strict schedule - she's straightforward and curt (but never impolite!) with Vertin, alluding to how simple justice is (if one commits a crime or abuses power, they shall be dealt with regardless of their social status) and how her body is "a representation of justice". Dikke has become a symbol for an idea, the concept of a fair system - she is no longer an individual but a savior, an executioner, a violent ghost, a witch, a threat, etc etc.

The loss of humanity is obvious in the way we do not get to know Dikke outside of any themes regarding justice. It's extremely hard to gleam any information about her childhood, her family, her interests and so on because they've all been displaced by this identity as justice itself. To me, this speaks about how power and responsibility on this scale will inevitably separate you from the people, THIS is the Sword of Damocles, now applied to Dikke as much as it applies to those in line for her judgement.

And yet, there are still very small hints of humanity left within her (still related, in a way, to her goals) in her care for the weak. Dikke's quote on her hobbies in a way reminds me of Sonetto.

The idle chatter of the people is entertaining, but 'tis more entertaining that they are always the first to know about the corrupt behavior of nobles.

Sonetto is a character that is similar to Dikke, in the sense that they both became the embodiment of concepts that ultimately stripped them off their individuality. Sonetto by fulfilling her training at the Foundation and becoming the PERFECT example of a military dog, a child martyr who struggles to connect with others because she was only taught how to exist FOR the Foundation. And Dikke, by all the things mentioned before.

But both of them have very endearing hobbies. Sonetto reads newspapers and collects them to find TYPOS IN THEM. Dikke's hobby is to listen to people talk as they go on about their day, not gossiping but to just listen to people exist.

In the main story, Sonetto's upbringing causes her to have a barrier with the people she truly wants to connect to (Vertin, namely) and Dikke's goal causes her life to revolve around a single thing, now only able to engage in mundane things from an outsider's perspective. She listens to people, she doesn't talk to them. She protects people, she doesn't live among them.

I like to think that, even so, this is when Dikke is most at peace. That she enjoys people watching, knowing they're safe and sound - because it validates all her efforts, it means that what she's doing is, in the end, worth it. This might also be why Dikke tells Vertin that they might be on the same path - Vertin, slowly figuring out the truth behind the Foundation and Manus Vindictae and acting as a saviour for those stuck in the middle.

As for headcanons, here's a couple I have!

Dikke has such a dry and deadpan sense of humour that only Vertin can understand it.

Sometimes, very rarely, Dikke will chime in with the most outlandish reply - straight out of the blue, spoken in the most serious and monotone voice. Those who aren't close to her will most likely brush it off as yet another intimidating thing they can't understand about her, but those close to her like Vertin?

It's THE funniest shit in the world and Dikke, who is very aware of the image and respect she commands, knows it.

Dikke and the artifact that follows her are friends.

Quite literally, that thing is the hand of justice. I like to think that Dikke can communicate with it non-verbally, even though it's implied that the artifact is not created by her arcanum.

Part of me likes to think that Dikke insists on said artifact being just her partner in her long journey of bringing justice to the world, but due to all the years spent together and all, the artifact itself (and whatever entity that shows up in her Ultimate) have come to see Dikke as their protégé.

#reverse 1999 #reverse: 1999 #reverse 1999 headcanons #reverse 1999 dikke #dikke #yes im flexing my 100% bond with her in that screenshot #i only have 3 characters at max bond and its pavia zima and dikke LMFAO

[animehouse-moe]

Mobile Suit Gundam - The Witch From Mercury S2 Episode 8: The End of Hope

So, last episode was violence on earth, and this episode is violence in space! What do we call that? A cycle! That's right. Good old Gundam, perpetuating violence through one sided fixations on the other's wrongdoings, which is perfectly personified through Shaddiq in this episode. Lots of stuff to talk about for sure!

This episode is interesting in that sense, it's less methodic and progress focused than the previous, almost catching you off guard as you shift from the norm towards combat. Regardless of that though, Shaddiq is a total piece of work through it all. It's pretty incredible.

The Earthian boy that allowed space to get to his head. Shaddiq was an orphan from Earth who worked his way up through Grassley to get a spot at Astacassia, and is now using it "to his advantage" to bring equality and power back to the hands of Earthians. What he doesn't, and will probably never realize, is that he's only serving to exacerbate it by perpetuating exactly what his adoptive forefathers did. In a terrible twist of fate, all Shaddiq is able to do is dirty the lives of others. He forces Guel to kill his own father to survive, he forces Miorine to dirty her hands because she doesn't want to be owned by Shaddiq, and he ruins the lives of such an innumerable amount of people that you can't begin to quantify it. All because he wants to bring peace and equality to Earth. But he can never understand his actions. He could never understand what it's like to kill your own father, what it's like to watch on as violence is incurred in your name. And this episode illustrates that incredible well, that Shaddiq is a Spacian, more than any of these other characters he despises, as his words completely betray him.

His entire existence is centered around his ability to bring their own lives back into the hands of Earthians, but he entirely misses the point. All he does is take advantage of. He takes, and takes, and takes some more, and offers nothing but hellfire and brimstone to the people that he wants to help. He brings oppression, violence, sanctions, all manner of terrible fates to the people he cares about, because the scope of his desire is so narrow. He wants to erase the past that he existed in, rather than focus on the future moving forward. In that sense, he plays a very solid second fiddle to Prospera (and raises up Guel even more, which I'll touch on later), as their foolish grasp on history blinds them to the atrocities that they commit in their names.

Just a quick little interlude here as the grounds of Astacassia are under attack during Guel and Shaddiq's fight. I thought this was a really great piece to appear in it. Miorine's tomato greenhouse was destroyed. Not by gundvolvas or even Norea herself, but someone defending Astacassia from her. What a sad, sad fate. A peaceful existence, quashed not by the enemy, but the people she might even call allies. Such a throwaway piece, but one that speaks to the boundless and senseless act of violence. To how inescapable it can be, to both sides of the conflict.

Anyways, back to Guel and his hubris. The sheer mockery that is his existence is palpable. "If you didn't get expelled from the school, if you didn't try to make things right and help out Plant Quetta during a terrorist attack, if you didn't try to thwart my plans, your father would still be alive, if you didn't fight to be a better person, my Miorine would still be clean.". Shaddiq embodies more selfishness than Guel could ever manage to muster in his existence. Even as the self-centered Holder of Astacassia, he could never stoop to the depths that Shaddiq inhabits.

And that's illustrated perfectly here. Shaddiq blames everybody around him for everything that has happened to him. Despite being the leading son of the Grassley House. Despite having the tools to change the world at his fingertips if he so wanted. He believes he needs to deliver power to the Earthians, through terror and violence that incurs the wrath of Spacians. Despite the peaceful approach that Gund-ARM desired, despite the wishes and fears of Guel, at each step he has refused to use his power, and relies on that of the group. He relies on their reactions to violence, he relies on the hatred of Spacians by the inhabitants of Earth. He only uses his power to take from those around him, and in turn drags them further into this abyss.

Then there's this moment. This line from Shaddiq. The sheer hubris of it is hilarious. And Guel destroys it right away.

The difference in wording speaks volumes. Shaddiq could only ever acknowledge what he's doing. He can sit and there and say, "I did some bad things for the sake of Earthians", and immediately, he absolves himself of it because of why he did it. Guel, on the other hand, chooses to carry that weight with him for the rest of his life. The inescapable burden of his father's death, of that girl dying in his arms, of his inaction and what it's led to. He refuses to justify his sins in the bigger picture. And that dissonance extends to the girls around Shaddiq, as they speak of "silver spoons" while piloting their top of the line Gundams, as they sortie from the incredibly exclusive and highly expensive Astacassia school ran by Spacians.

Then there's this last part from Guel is just outstanding. Given the context of Shaddiq and his crew being out for blood, Guel's effort in bringing in the Grassley House unharmed just further widens the ocean's width between the two characters. I especially love it because it speaks to exactly what I was saying so far about Shaddiq, and because it's Guel's version of the words that Suletta gave him.

And to finish off the Shaddiq content of this episode, we have Sarius. His forced passivity through this all, in concert with this comment, speak volumes to his feelings of it. He's lived through this before, he's experienced similar issues and challenges, and he knows where this path will lead to. But in the end, he remained powerless and oblivious to the plight of his son. It's rather depressing to see the resignation on his face at his failure in raising Shaddiq.

Now then, we can move onto Norea and Elan! What an interesting pair, I do think that Norea's character is a bit overblown than need be for he purpose, but there's still plenty of great moments. I really like how despite her hatred of mobile suits and Gundams, the only thing that she thinks she has left is to pilot them. Through her short life, all she could do at the end of it was fight, she could never find a way to run, to leave behind those feelings of hatred and resentment for the life that she was forced into.

And Elan can't help but intervene. The Elan that would only ever run away, only ever fight to preserve his own life, is drawn to Norea. Forced to pilot for the sake of others, relinquishing their chances at a normal life because of the selfishness of Spacians, the pair find common ground in losing their lives and passions to capitalist money machine that is the Benerit Group. I think it's a really great and emotional moment, to bring the puppet of a clone of Peil Technologies, and the child soldier of the Dawn of Fold together in their desire to flee their lives and discover something outside of their current existences. Sadly, this Elan has his chance, but Norea's fate has already been sealed due to her actions.

Finally, we arrive at the end of the conflict. A mass of rubble and bodies litter the ground from the conflict as we find Suletta on her own moving earth to try and help the people beneath it. I think it's a really important piece, both in regards to Suletta and the relations between Earthians and Spacians at Astacassia. Though they're meant to be cogs in the cycle of perpetuated violence and control, some of the students at this school have found ways to connect with one another past the boundaries of Earth and Space. Working together to defend Astacassia, or helping save injured students, or removing those trapped from the rubble. It speaks to the passion and desire to good that the Earthians aboard Astacassia have spread and infected those around them with. Alongside Suletta, they've broken the curse of Prospera's words, and in doing so, have helped free Suletta. Without Aerial, without her mother or Miorine or any of the other crutches that brought her this far, she remains in the dark, with bloodied and bruised hands, searching for life amidst the destruction.

It's an astoundingly good GWitch episode, and moves the characters forward in incredible ways. Shaddiq's hubris arrives at his doorstep as Guel find vindication in bringing him to justice, while Norea makes peace with the life that was stolen from her that Elan carries onwards, and Suletta and the Earth house continue their calling of peace and helping others even in spite of the atrocity that was committed in the name of their company.

The cycle of violence leaves nobody untouched, but it doesn't mean you must succumb to it. This episode speaks to that greatly. That you are justified in your hate and resentment for what life has done for you, but that you also hold the tools within your own hands to change that. To rally against it and make a difference, to speak out against those actions and to fight to find ways to break that cycle. Whether it's within the scope of the school you go to, or the whole of humanity.

#the witch from mercury #gundam the witch from mercury #機動戦士ガンダム 水星の魔女 #kidou senshi gundam: suisei no majo #gundam witch #gundam witch from mercury #gundam suisei no majo #suisei no majo #g witch #witch from mercury #mobile suit gundam #gundam #suletta mercury #guel jeturk #miorine rembran #shaddiq zenelli #anime recommendation #anime review #anime and manga #anime #anime original #mecha anime

[wildfloweronwheels]

Probably won't articulate this particularly well because the thoughts are still cooking but so far, even if it doesn't end up lasting for them, there's just something so warm about Taylor and Travis in an entirely different way to how I remember it being when we found out about Taylor and Joe. That warmth was a relief, a blazing fire keeping the chill away from someone who had been stuck in the fiercest and most oppressive winter. We were all so worried and she she was so unwell, by her own admission Joe saved her or at least made her feel like it was worth trying to save herself. He loved her privately when that was what she needed. This warmth is different and I can't quite explain why.

Maybe it's because this all started with a man shooting his shot on a friendship bracelet and being open about his feelings and what he wanted in a healthy sweet way (which anyone who does relationships with men knows is rare lol) or maybe it's that he doesn't seem phased by her success, at least for now, embracing it. Maybe it's that he's refreshingly willing to talk about her and it's not that Joe wasn't, he did, he just seemed to make people afraid to ask??? Maybe it's the happiness that radiated off them both at the game, both of them being OK with bold and public and showing up in a way we know Joe wasn't in the end or wouldn't let Taylor be for him. Maybe it's just that she's healthier now so instead of showing her how it could be, he's able to just slot right into where she's at. A place full of power and both parts of herself, Taylor the person and Taylor the artiste.

Whatever the reason, the best way I can describe the vibes we all picked up on on Sunday is an exhale (if you have better descriptions, leave them below) and even if this isn't forever, the feeling that we're watching Something feels so so nice you guys and honestly gives me hope for myself too

#taylor swift #travis kelce #taylor and travis #joe alwyn #taylor and joe #call me a cupcake or a simp or whatever but I felt the warmth immediately got a good feeling about this one #hannah post™️

[fictionadventurer]

Would you be able to tell me more about how pro-life positions are beneficial to women?

I have been becoming more pro-life over the past year because I see edges of this argument online, but I don't know enough to try to clearly explain it to myself, much less to other people. One point someone brought up that helped me see this differently was that abortions are a band-aid solution to sexual abuse and help make it easier to hide sexual violence. And I have also seen the point people make that companies would rather provide abortion care than maternity leave because it keeps people working.

I'm curious if you have other thoughts that can help me affirm this point both to myself and to others? I think there's a lot of vitriol around how people speak about women in abortion discussions, and it can make it hard for people who are on the fence to engage. And having more examples of how pro-life advocates care for women would make it easier to enter into the conversation, especially with people who take a feminist approach to the topic.

(I also want to affirm that I'm asking this in good faith, as someone who wants to learn sincerely, and I hope you might respond sincerely too. I'm taking it for granted that a fetus is also a human, so I'm more interested in how to bring up this other part of the discussion with people. If this is a topic you know less about, that's all right too.)

I tend to approach abortion debates by keeping a laser-focus on the fact that the fetus is a human and a person, because we need to remind people that no problem that the mother faces justifies killing an innocent human being. That said, the pro-life position is infinitely better for women in a bunch of different ways. I'm not going to provide sources, because there are lots of better blogs devoted to that kind of thing (@prolifeproliberty is one that's coming to mind), but I can provide a few talking points.

The biggest benefit a pro-life position provides to a woman is that she doesn't have to live with the fact that she killed her own child. People understand on an instinctive level that a woman is pregnant with a baby; they can try to gloss over it with rhetoric, but the truth remains that the woman pregnant with a human being with its own separate life to live, and abortion violently ends that life. Abortion regret is a very real thing; there's a vast increase in depression and suicide in post-abortive women, and these women often can't get help for such regret, because people deny that it exists, or because "it was her choice".

A pro-life position is also infinitely more empowering to women. Abortion supporters look at a pregnant woman and tell her, "You can't do this. You can't raise a child. You can't have a career. You can't get out of poverty. This will destroy your life." The pro-life position tells a woman that she can do this. She's strong enough. She's smart enough. Both she and her child can have fulfilling lives, because we can help her. The pro-life community provides tons of resources to help women get the supplies and medical care and support that they need to either raise the child or to find adoptive parents to help raise it. Abortion only gets rid of the child--it doesn't solve any of the other problems that made it so difficult for the woman to have a child.

Abortion is also the single greatest tool to allow men to sexually abuse women. The pro-abortion idea that men are against abortion because they want to oppress women is laughable. Men get no benefit from a pro-life position. Abortion allows men to sleep around as much as they like, and if they get a woman pregnant, they don't have to pay child support--they just pay for her abortion and go on their merry way. No concern for her mental or physical or emotional health--just convenience for him. Abortion turns both woman and child into objects for a man's pleasure, to be disposed of when they're not fun anymore.

I could go on for ages, but to keep this simple, I'll just list a few other points:

Abortion greatly increases a woman's risk of breast cancer, and can cause fertility problems later in life.

The abortion pill is extremely dangerous, especially used unsupervised, because it can cause extreme bleeding and other complications.

Abortion allows sexual abusers to hide the evidence of their sexual abuse and keep women trapped longer. This includes human-trafficking and prostitution situations.

Women are often pressured into abortion because of lack of support from their family or community. People might be willing to help her pay for the abortion, but if the woman chooses to have the child, people are unwilling to provide long-term support--it was "her choice", so she has to bear all the responsibility. A decision for abortion made under that kind of pressure isn't really concerned about "a woman's choice."

As you said, employers are far more willing to pay for abortion than they are to provide much more expensive maternity leave, health insurance, etc. It can serve as another tool for employers to oppress workers.

Abortion supporters are often so focused on increasing access to abortion that they put women at risk. They have shot down and repealed bills that require abortion clinics to be licensed and inspected and to meet certain minimum medical standards. They've allowed teenagers to get abortions without parental notification, even though they're legally not competent to make other medical decisions, and the abortion procedure could put the teen's health at risk (plus this can cause teens to be trapped even longer in trafficking situations). They shoot down measures that would require women to be given more information about the abortion procedure and other options--even though informed consent is a cornerstone of medical ethics. If abortion supporters were truly concerned about women, they would be willing to put some of these common-sense protective measures in place.

#pro life #answered asks #i feel like this is very haphazard but i hope it helps a little bit

[soloorganaas]

snippet saturday

ty for the tags @spindrifters and @maybebabyplease 💕 i bring you a long snippet from right back where we started from bc im finally making progress on the next chapter

tagging @squintclover @drownedlove @r33sespieces @armoralor @balenciagaaaaaaaa

~

“Do you know Professor Lupin quite well?”

“Pretty well, yes,” Sirius replied, biting back a grin. “We went to school together.”

“You did?” another student asked in surprise.

“Yes, we were both in Gryffindor,” he told them.

“You guys shared a dorm together?”

Sirius froze, cheeks flushing as he felt a wave of panic at those implications.

“He never said anything!”

“How come you were such good friends and you didn’t tell us?”

There was a chorus of surprised and sightly indignant exclamations from the class and Sirius relaxed a little.

“One time in fourth year I replaced Professor Lupin’s bloodroot with cowbane and he nearly blew up the potions classroom. He hasn’t been my friend since,” Sirius said dryly. “Now – there’s an interesting new piece of legislation which –”

Lizzie stuck her hand in the air again.

“Professor, we want you and Professor Lupin to teach a class together. Please.”

Sirius blinked. “I – you do?”

“Yes. We’ve been studying the Imperius Curse all term and obviously we talk about that here too, and you and Professor Lupin have different opinions so we don’t know what the right answer is and we need to ask you together.”

Sirius took a breath for a moment, trying to unpack everything in that sentence.

“Lizzie. If I want you to take anything from this class, it’s that there is no ‘correct’ opinion. About anything.”

“Yes, but –”

“No. No buts,” Sirius said firmly. “There are opinions which are intolerable and bigoted and based on ridiculous assumptions or incorrect facts. But the minute you start to deem opinions correct or incorrect is where critical thinking stops and oppression begins.”

The classroom was quiet.

“The dark arts are a tool, one of many, which can be used to help or harm – to an individual or on a broader scale. You have to be able to understand that theory in order to control your own power and that of others, and that’s what Professor Lupin is teaching you,” Sirius continued.

“Of course he has his own opinions about the dark arts, but that’s not the point of the class, and what he or I think is irrelevant to the fact that you need to know what this magic means, what it entails, and what its dangers and limits are.”

His students were staring at him looking taken aback, and some slightly scared. Sirius felt a twinge of guilt for a moment, but fuck it – some things were too important to tiptoe around.

“So. Learn how to use the Imperius Curse correctly. Then come here and we can discuss what we all think about using the Imperius Curse on someone who’s just been arrested.”

“Wouldn’t it be good to have differing opinions on that, though?” one of his students asked. “If we’re trying to think about it critically?”

“Yeah, we could have a proper debate,” another one added.

Sirius gave a small laugh, feeling some reluctant pride in his students.

“Yeah. Alright. Fine. I will speak to Professor Lupin.”

There was a hiss of satisfaction from the class.

“I can’t promise anything though. He’s very in demand.”

Sirius smirked to himself as he walked back to his desk, then hopped up on it and clapped his hands together.

“Now. Freedom of association…”

#wolfstar #sirius black #remus lupin #right back where we started from #otp: i'm mental about you #hp #sirius has truly never been less chill than when his students ask him about remus

[doberbutts]

I really wish people like that anon understood that it's kinda strange to compare oppression? Like comparing white supremacy and patriarchy feels kinda reductive to me. They're different systems with different histories and the main reason I see people bringing up men in discussions about the patriarchy is bc when (usually cis and white) women make generalizations about men and their power within the system, the man they're imagining is the most privileged man that could exist (white, straight, cis, neurotypical, able-bodied, etc). But men as a category is so much broader than that, and marginalized men do not benefit in the same ways. And if you have to make that many qualifications when making a statement maybe the argument is kinda weak. Are all men safe to walk the streets at night or is your default a white cis straight able-bodied neurotypical traditionally masculine man

That's where intersectionality needs to come in and that's why it's been so frustrating in my experience to have these conversations, bc so many people absolutely refuse to acknowledge it as not only a factor but one of the biggest/most impactful

It's "learn intersectionality" until they're actually challenged to apply it to more than just their own demographic, and then it's "how dare you imply that other people also have problems".

Anyway honestly my biggest gripe with comparing racial oppression to gender/sex oppression is very simple. You can trans your gender but you cannot trans your race. Someone who is transgender has lived, many times, as more than one gender. This does not happen to race outside of very specific circumstances with adoptees, blended families, and interracial families (which is also why it's really only these folks who use terms like 'transracial' properly) and therefore that should illustrate the difference between both of these systems.

What's even more annoying is that this is feminist and black racial theory that I'm talking about. These aren't right wing or MRA talking points. And yet they're met with defensiveness and derision because I'm not willing to say that I think people within these groups experience zero problems as a result of their demographic, even if their demographic is "on top". You cannot narrow a person down to only a single demographic, that's literally the entire point of intersectionality is that we are all made up of many pieces and focusing on a single piece misses the bigger picture.

I'm not saying there's no such thing as the patriarchy (there is). I'm not saying there's no such thing as male privilege (there is). I'm not saying there's no such thing as white supremacy (there is). I'm not saying that these aren't systemic problems (they are). I'm not saying these aren't problems that individuals continue to further because it's convenient for them to not change (they do). You'd think I was, with these types of reactions.

[gandalfsbignaturals]

That post about tme/tma was pretty funny to read as I have as a trans man experienced trans misogyny multiple times. I have a man’s name and dress in men’s clothes and multiple times people have thought I am a trans woman who I guess is mid social transition or smth? Idk man its weird. I think its valuable to talk about different experiences with transphobia within the trans/lgbt community and outside of it but i guess its easy to forget how varied the trans experience can be. Also why is there no term for the transphobia fuelled misogyny trans men face? As a trans man i feel like i can’t escape misogyny even from people who accent me as a man. Misogyny is also often the first punishment and slap in the face against me by transphobes. They rarely say anything about me being trans but just talking sexist shit?

see, thats another thing about transmisogyny that i think a lot of people forget. its not separate from misogyny and transphobia, it is the intersection of those two. so, if someone is both transphobic and misogynist, anybody who they think looks trans and they think looks like a woman is a potential target.

this actually includes, like, a lot of trans men, because 99% of these bigots dont actually care to learn a single thing about trans people. they often literally do not know enough about trans-ness to tell the difference between a trans man and a trans woman. they see someone who looks like theyre doing gender wrong, and they floor it, and anyone who doesnt conform enough can be caught in the crossfire.

additionally, trans men dont get to opt out of misogyny when they start transitioning. many trans men struggle to pass as men, because gender is a tricky thing. and if you dont pass as a man, or if you dont have your legal name changed, or if you dont have your gender marker changed, then anybody could still decide that youre a woman and treat you accordingly. trans men experience misogyny just as much as trans women do, and because they are also trans, they often fall victim to the same structures that cause transmisogyny.

trans men have actually tried a few times to coin words to describe these unique intersectional experiences, similar to the reason transmisogyny was coined, but everytime they have faced pushback from the community, and especially from trans women. transmisandry and transandrophobia are both words that trans men have tried to coin to describe their experiences, and theyve been so thoroughly ridiculed for it that ive seen trans women go around calling people "transandrophobia truthers." these words that trans men have tried to define for themselves have become jokes in the mouths of those who should be their allies.

this is another reason why i am so against tme/tma as labels. if we exclude trans men from being able to be victims of transmisogyny, but we also deny them the words they need to talk about their own unique intersectional experiences of oppression, then we are essentially saying we dont care about those experiences. we are silencing them the same way we have been silenced for years.

thats why im so gungho about trans unity. yes, our experiences are different, but the structures and the people oppressing us are the same. we are not enemies, and if we paint each other as enemies, if we try to silence each other, if we continue to squabble amongst ourselves and focus on what divides us instead of what brings us together...

we are doing the fascists' work for them, and our communities will crumble to dust.

i dont want to live in a world where im enemies with my trans masc brothers. i dont want to live in a world where finding common ground between us is seen as wrong. we have to stick together if we want to survive, but moreover, we have to stick together if we want to thrive. trans men, trans women, and every other flavor of trans people under the sun all enrich the queer experience. it is a beautiful, profound thing to reject ones nature and find belonging with the othered. to sully that beauty with the blood of our allies is to invite the end.

[odinsblog]

So colorblind racism is a term that comes from Eduardo Bonilla Silva, and he writes about how the colorblind ideology is the dominant form of thinking about race in the US. And it basically refers to explaining or understanding racialized phenomena in “colorblind” ways.

And so you explain racial inequality by something that is unrelated to race.

And what that does is it justifies and legitimates that racial inequality.

If someone asks, hey, why are there so many Black people in prison? Their explanation is, it's not because the system is racist. It's not because Black folks are over policed. It's not because Black folks are given longer sentences for the same crimes. It's not because of the cash bail system that keeps Black folks imprisoned and really punishes the poor people who can't pay the bail in order to get out of prison and have to end up signing a plea deal in order to get out, to keep their jobs, and their families and their homes.

It's because, colorblind racists argue, Black people just commit more crimes than white people.

So that would be a colorblind way of being racist - to imply that this difference in outcomes and differences in incarceration rates is due to cultural or individual level failures, and not due to a systemic level bias.

According to the colorblind framework, racism is an idea that justifies or legitimates racial inequality, where you don't have to “hate” Black people, but if you say Black people are more criminal and that's why they're behind bars, so we don't need to reform our criminal justice system, then that is racist, because that idea continues the racial oppression that Black folks face at the hands of the criminal justice system.

So that's what colorblind racism refers to.

And then color mute is a term that comes from Mika Pollock, that refers to Black people. It's very closely related colorblind racist theory because it refers to people who are dealing with something that very clearly and explicitly relates to race, but they choose not to mention race when they're talking about it.

So the examples from that book come from schools where teachers will talk about how, “Oh, these students have been acting up and more students have been going to detention,” when really it's only Black students who have been going to detention and they're not naming the fact that there is a racial component to these trends.

And what both those things do, colorblind racism and color muteness, is it allows language to overlook the fact that racial inequality is happening.

By not naming it, it allows that inequality and those injustices to continue, without being recognized or challenged.

And so, again, that relates directly to the theme of the book, which is that when we unmask racism, when we reveal racism, we are better able to show it and to demonstrate how it works. And only then, right… and the change can only come after we name the problem.

And so that's why racists fight so hard to try and hide racism. Because once we see it, then we're going to be able to point it out to other people and recruit them to the side of antiracist thought.

And antiracist action.

—ROB ESCHMANN, When the Hood Comes Off: Racism and Resistance in the Digital Age

#colorblind racism #aversive racism #color muteness #racism #rob eschmann #language #when the hood comes off #racism and resistance in the digital age #structural racism #whitewashing history #racism deniers

[disabledunitypunk]

[Image ID: cropped tumblr post reading - as an ND able-bodied person, i just wanna say that cpunks are NOT doing anything wrong by not allowing us in their community. its completely okay and im actually very very happy that physically disabled people finally have their own space where they dont have to deal with ableism toward them all the time

able-bodied NDs have it made in this sense. we have TWO communities! we have neuropunk and madpunk, and you can go on any social media platform and easily find hundreds of other NDs on there along with little communities and shit. but physically disabled people dont have it that easy. when they DO find one that isnt just about ND people, it's still full of ableism. i've seen it myself and it makes me sick

so physically disabled people decided to make their OWN community. just for them. no one else. then THATS when able-bodied NDs start getting pissy and call them ableist when they were basically doing the exact same shit before.

you can handle not being allowed in one community. theres two more you can be part of just fine

if youre an able-bodied ND who sees yourself in any of this, maybe you should stop and look at yourself. make some improvements

to the cpunk community, dont let people like this tear you down. stand your ground, push these people out. you deserve your OWN safe space and no one will take that from you /end ID]

okay this shit right here?

pisses us off

the whole point is that cripplepunk has become not about focusing on physical disabilities, but about gatekeeping neurodivergence from ever being considered physically disabling, about policing neurodivergent reclamation of a slur that has been historically and commonly used against BOTH neurodivergent and physically disabled people, about reducing physical disabilities to mobility disabilities, and about treated neurodivergent people as abled to the point that they don't EVER lack accessibility or NEED accommodations just to be able to do the same things as abled people

I don't personally have a problem with spaces that focus on physical disability, but I'm not even allowed to find commonalities in my own experiences as a physically disabled neurodivergent person or I'm "derailing". I'm not ever allowed to find my neurodivergence more disabling than my physical disabilities, even contextually, because neurodivergence is "disability lite" and high, middling, and fluctuating support needs people apparently just don't exist. I'm not allowed to talk about how I physically couldn't access a venue or event because of my neurodisabilities. I'm not allowed to be physically disabled by the organ that controls all functions of my physical body.

As a physically disabled neurodivergent, multiple marginalized person on the basis of my disabilities, I am not safe in these spaces. I am actively pushed out of these spaces for being neurodivergent, despite being physically disabled by things completely unrelated to neurodivergence!

I have been called able-bodied more times than I can count, despite being housebound until recently due to mobility issues and lack of a mobility aid, and still being bedbound on my worst days! I have been straight up called abled. I've been called a liar who wants to feel special and more oppressed for saying that my sensory issues are so disabling that there are stores I physically cannot safely enter, or I will have a massive meltdown and physically hurt myself. I've been told I can control this, and that hurting myself doesn't count even though I know someone who has permanent brain damage from hurting themself during meltdowns.

I've been told I should shut up and let real disabled people speak for daring to say cripplepunk spaces are hostile to physically disabled neurodivergent people.

Also, you've gotta love the ableist hypocrisy of "we get neuropunk AND madpunk" while gatekeeping cripplepunk. Mad actually is a slur that is used for a specific subtype of disabled experiences. I'm never going to gatekeep reclamation, and I don't think it's something that falls neatly and evenly along specific diagnosis lines. I think that there are absolutely neurodivergent people who don't have the specific disorders most people think of when they think of insanity that have been mistreated for being seen as "insane". Hell, I think there are physically disabled people - even entire physical disabilities that on average - are often treated with intense sanism that can reclaim the slur and that belong in the movement.

That being said, not all neurodivergent people are affected by sanism, full stop. That is something for each individual to determine, but especially for people with lower support needs and combined types/presentations of neurodivergence that are more palatable to abled people... some of them face neuroableism, but not sanism. That's an important distinction.

Basically, anyone can face sanism, but not everyone does.

Also, there ARE hundreds of spaces for SPECIFIC physical disabilities. There's not that many spaces for neurodivergence that aren't just autism+ADHD, and there's not that many physical disability spaces that aren't just "mobility disabilities"+"any chronic illnesses that still sometimes affect your mobility as a side effect" (which yes are mobility disabilities but honestly aren't even treated as such in these spaces).

Like, the whole point is that neurodivergent people who AREN'T able-bodied don't GET a space where they don't have to deal with corpoableism from other neurodivergent people and neuroableism/sanism from physically disabled people. The whole POINT is that people gatekeeping cripplepunk are being ableist, and erasing/minimizing the disabilities of neurodivergent people. The whole POINT is that they're ignoring the experience of the organ that controls your body sometimes disabling said body because said organ doesn't work right.

The whole POINT is that You. Cannot. Label. Someone. Else. Able. Bodied.

And sure, there's lip service to the fact that "oh well if you're actually physically disabled then this isn't about you"

except it is.

because if you're physically disabled by the "wrong" diagnosis you're an attention-seeking ableist faker

because if you want to talk about your whole experience as a neurodivergent physically disabled person you're "an able-bodied neurodivergent derailing discussions about disability" (yes, they actually say disability sometimes, mask off, not physical disability specifically)

because if you're neurodivergent and physically disabled and you present evidence of historical medical textbooks calling people "mental cripples" you're "cherrypicking rare examples" despite simply picking 5 out of the HUNDREDS of links you could have sent

because if you are neurodivergent and even dare to find similarities with your own neurodivergence on a post about a physical disability you also have you're "an abled person invading disabled spaces". Yes, they call neurodivergent people they believe to not be physically disabled "abled" as if brain disabilities don't exist.

"just for them. no one else."

You said it right there. That's the problem. It's not for physically disabled people AND physically disabled people with other disabilities. It's for physically disabled people - again, meaning only mobility disabilities, no, GI disabilities or blindness/vision impairment etc don't count! - ONLY.

With one exception.

If you tout the party line about how ableist neurodivergent people are, never ever mention your own neurodivergence, hide it deep down like the evil ableist you fundamentally are, and let yourself be tokenized as the person who is mentioned in "see! physically disabled people who are neurodivergent are allowed here [if they're never openly or visibly neurodivergent]" then you're allowed in the club.

And that's without even getting into the massive amounts of sanism and neuroableism in cripplepunk spaces OUTSIDE of the gatekeeping. I touched on it with the calling neurodivergent people abled - but the use of crazy and insane as an insult, the arguments I've seen for mentally ill people to be forcibly institutionalized and forced to "recover" by being coercively made to take meds to suppress their neurodivergence or go to therapy where they are being psychiatrically abused, the absolute horrific treatment of cluster B disorders - all the stuff you expect from abled people, but coming from other disabled people.

So even if, let's say, the cripplepunk community was completely welcoming to all neurodivergent people who were physically disabled in any way, including by their neurodivergence: that's what's waiting for us. Just a different kind of ableism in the space we went looking to escape ableism in.

No one's taking anything from anyone by saying "I'm a cripple too, stop being massively laterally ableist to me". You're just an ableist sucker with a taste for boots.

[xxlovelynovaxx]

Me, a physically disabled (high support needs) neurodivergent (mid to high support needs) person: Hey, my neurodivergence IS extremely disabling in a way that a lot of you say "isn't possible" and also my physical and neurological disabilities often combine in ways that can't be separated and produce symptoms that are new or of added severity for me.

Responses I've gotten from disabled exclusionists (some of whom are also both physically disabled and neurodivergent):

"What drugs are you on, you delusional freak?"

"I've never experienced this and therefore you're a dirty lying physically abled neurodivergent person who just wants to be more disabled and oppressed than you are. My experiences are universal and anyone who has different experiences is a lying liar. No one can ever prove otherwise because my axiom is that anyone who claims otherwise is lying."

"The ableds are at it again."

"Sit down and let the REAL disabled people talk."

"You're never allowed to find similarities between disabilities that are of different types, even ones you have, and if you do you're actually the reason why accessibility is such an issue because conflating them is why ableist doctors don't give us what we need and why society thinks medical gatekeeping is good, actually."

"If you're that suicidal do us all a favor and kill yourself."

This is without even getting into stuff about how disabled labels often apply differently to systems. The big discourse now is "nonverbal" labels for headmates who are permanently, always nonverbal, primarily by people and systems who refuse to view systems as anything but "parts" of a single person. Which is funny to me because ah yes, we have actual studies showing physical disabilities such as allergies can apply only to individual headmates, but gods forbid you apply a neurological label to someone whose brain activity is not only visibly different on scans from yours, but to the extent that it changes your entire shared physical body!

Like here's a novel idea: maybe we could just stop policing how other disabled people talk about their disabilities forever! Maybe we could blame any and all harm done even from the unicorn-rarity "actual fakers/liars" (also don't think I don't see you being ableist against people with actual diagnosed that cause compulsive lying) on the ableists DOING the harm because it's actually perfectly possible for them not to cherrypick our words and listen to the MAJORITY of us!

Maybe, just maybe, we could form a coalition, focus on the REAL enemy (ableist medical professionals and lawmakers) and push for actual change for ALL of us!

#also. I have been called ableist for reclaiming the r slur in a 'so what if I AM unintelligent or otherwise socially/emotionally incapable #specifically BECAUSE it was used against me for YEARS to the point of severe trauma #specifically FOR being a socially inept 'gifted kid' #and yet I've been told telling the truth about my own experiences is 'speaking over people with intellectualdisabilities' #and that I didn't actually experience that and they were actually not insulting me becaude they were only insulting intelligence #and it's like 'a bullet with your name on it aimed at me that hits me isn't making YOU bleed' #the target of a bigoted attack is the person that gets hit by it regardless of if the bigot is wrong about their identity #because get this bigots don't actually stop and apologize if they find out they're 'wrong' about you #because the reason they're attacking you is to enforce normalcy on you and they've sensed you are abnormal #it's like hey maybe actually slur reclamation discourse is bullshit and the basis for reclamation should be 'have you been called this' #and 'listen to people with different disabilities' should never mean 'other people know your own experiences better than you' #because that's precisely the problem causing so much ableism towards neurodivergent people from physically disabled people! #'I'm more disabled and oppressed than you on the disabled hierarchy' #'and therefore I get to define your own experiences and the meaning behind them' #No! That's a fucking problem! And super ableist no matter WHAT your disabilities #'listen to other disabled people' goes both ways #you might actually have to examine your own biases and readjust your viewpoint #because newsflash the ableism you think is unique to YOUR disability? ISN'T. #boo fucking hoo you have to acknowledge other people have been hurt by the same things you have #hyper individualism is a plague. you are not special. we're all fucked under abled hegemony #and yes abled people listen to some of us more - lower support needs and intellectually nondisabled people most #but you cannot just assume based on ONE label or lack of that someone is in the 'listened to' category #ableds don't listen to me regardless of eloquence or w/e because I'm massively crippled and mad and have cognitive disabilities #like if you think I have privilege over you bc I'm 'smart' or w/e. abled people take one look at me being a crippled schizo #and write me off as completely crazy! NO ONE listens to mad people. we are in THE SAME BOAT #anyway this rant is not even at anyone or any particular group because I've noticed it coming from EVERYWHERE in the community #these are just some examples #discourse #tw suibaiting mention #tw delusional as insult mention

[lhazaar]

i really dislike the belief online, especially in otherwise progressive circles, that as soon as someone brings up suicidal ideation, everything else stops. it comes from a well-intentioned place. you don't want to feel responsible for someone else's death. you especially don't want to feel responsible for someone else's death, or the potential of it, if you're otherwise friends. it's worse if it's repeated. it's worse if the person doesn't have mental healthcare access, or has been failed by it before. this is a systemic failure, and you know there's no other safety net for this person, and that makes it worse.

it also doesn't make it your responsibility.

i'm speaking specifically to people who have been in the situation, or who are in the situation, where they feel responsible. it is really easy, especially if you're younger and you've grown up with online friend groups, to start feeling really, really responsible for your friend's mental health. maybe your friend comes to you personally, or comes into a group chat or server or vent channel, and talks about how alone and abandoned they feel. how it makes them wonder what the point of anything is. you feel sympathy; nobody should feel that awful, after all. you reassure your friend that you're not going to abandon them, or that they can "always" talk to you. you know they don't have other supports they feel safe accessing, after all.

and then they continue to do nothing. their mental illness makes them isolate themself, which makes them feel worse, which means that they're back in your messages talking about how awful they feel. they need that reassurance now, after all. you don't know how urgent these feelings are. maybe this friend just kind of feels shitty all the time, but they also don't feel like they want to be alive, so you don't want to make it worse in case something bad happens. maybe this friend has a self-harm history and it flares up when they feel abandoned. so you reply quickly. you help your friend out of their spiral, and you feel good about yourself. you feel like you have the power to make a positive contribution, and like you can help people, even when they're suffering.

something happens to your friend. maybe they don't get a job they wanted or their dnd campaign burns out. it hits them so, so hard; lots of things hit you hard when you're mentally ill, especially when you're depressed. maybe you've been depressed before yourself, so you know what it's like. whatever the case, your friend spirals again. maybe they come talk to you, or maybe you have to coax them into talking to you, because by this point you're invested. your friend's mental health has become directly tied in your mind with your ability to reassure them and keep their head above water. maybe they talk about self-harming while they were left alone. maybe they just talk about how badly they want to do it.

and then you have a problem with your friend.

maybe it's minor—they just steamrolled you one too many times in a conversation, and you were excited to talk about your thing for once, not how shitty they feel. it usually starts minor. maybe it's much bigger—they came onto you super hard, and you're not into them at all. now you're in a weird position, right. you want to say no. you want to say, hey, stop doing this, i thought we were friends, i thought we both cared about each other. but you've seen how they react to being told no before—maybe not by you, but by other people, or the world at large, or whatever is pushing them down. maybe they're in the same oppressed class that you are, or one you don't share. don't you want them to have a win? don't you want their life to get better? so you shut up, and you let it happen. but you don't forget about it.

you keep sitting on this, and sitting on this. it wouldn't bother you if you'd just been able to talk about it. maybe you do talk about it! your friend reacts poorly, because you are their safe space now. you are their source of reassurance. any negative feedback about their behaviour that comes from you is going to have so, so much more weight. you never asked for that amount of power to be put in your hands. you may not realize it yet, but there is no real power that has been put in your hands here.

the little things keep happening. maybe the big things keep happening. either way, you can't bring it up. you didn't bring up the first instance, after all, so doing it now just feels mean. but it keeps going, and going. eventually your only interaction with this friend is pulling them out of spirals, or reassuring them that the entire world doesn't hate them. you're probably dealing with your own mental health problems at the same time.

eventually, something snaps. maybe it's from you, or maybe it's from someone else in your friend group. this person is told no, stop that, you're stepping on my foot, you're harassing me, you're hurting me. and their entire world absolutely shatters. depression closes up your ability to make friends and maintain relationships, so you and your little group of queer weirdos against the world is just how it's been for months to years. and now this person's entire social group is mad at them. they don't know where it came from. they couldn't have seen it coming. they don't understand what they did. or maybe they do understand, and they won't stop apologizing, and blaming themself, and talking about how much of a piece of shit they are. maybe you agree; maybe you're immediately upset with yourself for agreeing, because that's an awful thing to say about someone so, so depressed. what if you being mad at them is what pushes them to try and kill themself? again?

after all, you're the only thing they have left.

multiple things can be true at once: the mental healthcare system worldwide is a system of coercive, oppressive control. it is also the only way that many of us have to access the medications and interventions that save our lives. it is also something many people don't have access to. it is not your friend's fault for being depressed, or suicidal, or self-harming.

it is also emotional abuse. what i have described above is a cycle of emotional abuse. you do not have the power to singlehandedly keep your friend's head above water. you do not have the ability to make them seek help or to talk their depression away. and it is absolutely never your responsibility to sit on your problems to avoid upsetting someone else when those problems are them hurting you.

you cannot replace someone else's coping skills. expecting you to do so is inappropriately enmeshed at best and emotionally abusive at worst. it is also not something that a good or kind friend would do.

#bark bark #suicide - #self-harm - #swear to god if i get a kokobot message about this one it's on sight.

[crownedcrowrow]

(Alright here's the rant, there's art at the end if you don't feel like reading)

2k3 Leonardo and Rise! Raphael have so much more in common than I would have guessed despite the many differences between them. Specifically their roles in their respective teams, being the leader or the responsible sibling. Both had to grow up too quickly in my opinion, we can clearly see that both are much more mature than their brothers. (This is more of a head cannon but this is why I assume that's the reason they both are shown to own a teddy bear as I mention in the post that started me on this rant.) 

To get into the more specific observations, neither one of them asked to be the leader. They just kind of fell into the role because, well, who else would?

In the Rise Movie there was a storyboard that didn't make the final cut. As Raph is talking to Leo Raph states that he never wanted to be leader, he was the oldest and it was his responsibility to look after his brothers. In the episode  “Samurai Tourist”, Usagi has a conversation with Leo. Usagi says,” Your eyes betray you, they show me the oppressive burden you have chosen to shoulder.” Leonardo responds with, “ Someone has to.” 

Onto my next point. OH MY GOD these poor CHILDREN are so sick with worry and anxiety that they bottle up for the sake of those around them. They are constantly worried about doing a good job and making sure their brothers don't die while also focussing on keeping calm to set a good example. Not to mention there are times they are teased by their brothers for trying to do what they can to make the team stronger. I sincerely don't think their brothers do it on purpose, they just can't relate, therefore they just view it as meaningless team building and extra training. But when there is a close call, it is the leaders fault, after all, a leader is supposed to be able to protect their team. If something goes wrong, if someone gets hurt, or ends up dead, the leader should. Have. Done. Better. They should have found a way out or made a better call, right? Anything it takes to make sure everyone gets out alive, even if it means to sacrifice yourself for the sake of your team. Or at least this is their mindset. We see this demonstrated many times with both characters, Whether it’s Raph throwing himself off a clif to help his brothers ulcock their mystic powers or taking a stab through the shell to protect his little brother. For Leo, whether it's jumping head first into tricky situations to protect his brothers or fighting the Shredder all by himself, even choosing to take on the burden of beheading the Shredder by himself and living with the knowledge of what he did just to make sure no more harm would come to his family. But when their brothers don't listen to them or worse openly ignore them, it gets frustrating and eventually that pent up frustration is going to cause “the cork to pop off the unopened bottle.” 

“I'm the oldest here. I'm responsible for keeping us safe and making sure we can handle anything that comes our way, because if I dont we could all end up dead. “

“We stopped half! And only because we got lucky! Is that good enough for you? IS IT? We're always one step behind! We act like a bunch of amateurs! How many times are we gonna get beaten before you guys wise up and realize this isn't a game!?”

To put that all into simple terms, they need so much therapy. Specifically group therapy with Rise! Mikey's “doctor delicate touch” as their therapist. I also just like to think that if Raph or Leo start to think a bit too much about their shell scars and how they got them, their brothers would put gold painto over the edge, kind of like Kintsukuroi. ( If you want to know more about it look it up, I don’t feel that it’s my place to talk on behalf of the Japanese practice. Just think it's really neat and has a beautiful message behind it. Since the turtles are of Japanese descent I figured Splinter would have told his sons about it.) Anyway thank you for coming to my Ted Talk! 

As a thanks for making it through my rant here's some art of the bois.

#pixelcrowart #tmnt #rottmnt #rise of the teenage mutant ninja turtles #tmnt 2k3 #tmnt 2003 #teenage mutant ninja turtles #tmnt leonardo #tmnt leo #tmnt raphael #tmnt raph #rottmnt raph #rottmnt raphael #rant #rant with art #tmnt crossover #i finnished it early #im tired now #doctor delicate touch #get these bois some thereapy #this was my first time writting a rantso if I made any errors just ignore it #i love them so much #Row talks

[writerofweird]

World of Ants (expanded Ant Story)

Okay, I took this story I wrote, combined both parts, edited it slightly and added a bit at the end. Enjoy!

(10,272 words, includes body horror, language and implied nudity)

An ant doesn’t start babbling when they see a circuit board. They find it strange, to them it is a landscape of strange angles and humming monoliths. They may be scared, but that is not madness.

Madness comes when the ant, for a moment, can see as a human does.

-@bramblesand

I once met an ant who said she was a human woman.

She approached my colony as we were engaged on our usual routine collecting leaves, accompanied by another ant. From listening in on their conversation, I learned she had narrowly escaped the beak of a bird and was being brought to us to assist us.

‘I’m not an ant,’ she protested, standing on her hind two legs and gesturing to them with her front two legs.

‘You are an ant,’ replied the ant who had brought her near me.

I almost left them alone to continue with my usual work, but what caused me to drop the leaf I was carrying in my pincers and scurry over was her saying, ‘I’m human! My name is Dana and I was turned into an ant!’ Getting back on six legs, she added, ‘I need your help so I can change back!’

Ants knew all about transformations, about something becoming something else. There certainly was no way ants who had their nest invaded by a butterfly would ever forget what transformation was. If a caterpillar could become a butterfly, I thought, a human could become an ant. A human, like those I often saw during my food collections, engaged in activities I wouldn’t be able to participate in.

Ants knew all about transformations, and yet the ant who brought Dana to me said, ‘Very funny.’ She gestured to me with her head, adding, ‘You’re as bad a daydreamer as she is.’

Hearing this, she scuttled towards me, with both of us turning away from the other ant and the rest of the colony. The first thing I said to her was, ‘I believe you.’

‘Do you mean that?’ Dana replied, her antennae springing up slightly, ‘Because now I know ants have some knowledge of sarcasm.’ There were various things ants had subconsciously picked up from humans, I thought as Dana said this. There had been many overhead conversations, as well as the rare moments humans tried talking to ants, and yet, frequently I was chastised for stopping to view them.

‘No, I believe you,’ I replied, explaining to her the example of a caterpillar becoming a butterfly through an incident.

‘Wow,’ she replied, a word I had heard for the first time in my life that I figured out was an exclamation of surprise, ‘it just gets worse and worse the more I hear about it.’

‘Yes.’

‘And you’ve been like this your whole life?’ Dana looked at the ground, ceasing her scuttling for a moment. ‘I’m sorry.’

Dana crawled to me, told me her story and I - still holding out hope that there was a fairy or magical creature out there who could change someone’s species in seconds - believed her.

Dana had explained how what was supposed to be a routine pizza delivery - she had to explain to me what a pizza was - ended with her force-fed a potion that caused an extra pair of limbs to burst from under her arms, that caused her bones to merge with her skin, that caused her hair to retreat, stabbing her insides like several needles. After that, she spent what felt like hours crawling through her oversized uniform before being picked up by the scientist who created the potion, thankfully slipping through their fingers before they could trap her in their ant farm.

The way she described how she now saw things - like how the furniture she used to sit on seemed to mutate into something oppressive and how she felt so much of herself had been hacked away - seemed like the type of thing that couldn’t have been made up.

What also strengthened my belief that Dana was not originally an ant was how, as we walked together while talking, she would often trip over her middle set of legs, collapsing on her thorax. One such moment happened when we were crawling together among the grass blades and two pairs of sneakers came our way, with me shoving Dana out of the way just in time, and before avoiding a drop of dew from a blade. ‘Thank you,’ I heard Dana say, though my attention wandered to who those shoes belonged to. Two women, exploring the natural world together, like Dana and I were.

That was what made me say what I had been thinking ever since I met Dana.

‘Dana,’ I said after we resumed our journey, ‘that scientist you mentioned. They turned you into an ant.’

‘Yes.’

‘And you think you can turn back into a human?’

Both of us said nothing for a few seconds before Dana said, ‘And you think you can turn into a human as well?’

‘Yes,’ I said before looking up again, up at the sky and the sun and the people who basked in it. The people who didn’t have to worry about being flattened. The people who were allowed to do more than scurry and eat.

‘Well,’ Dana said, ‘after what I’ve been through, I certainly don’t blame you. I wouldn’t wish this…well, I certainly wouldn’t wish this on you. I mean…’ She let loose a noise that I was certain was supposed to be equivalent to a human laugh. ‘…by helping me, I think you’re well on your way to becoming human already.’ Just as we were about to leave the grass, she turned to me and asked, ‘Do you have a name?’ I didn’t answer. ‘Would you like one?’

I almost stood on my hind two legs as Dana had earlier. ‘Yes, please.’

‘Okay then,’ Dana replied, her antennae twitching as she stopped to think, ‘how about Betty then?’

So that was how I became Betty. Betty the Ant, soon to be Betty the Human.

After my naming, we left the greenery for what Dana called the pavement – what looked like someone took a river and replaced the water with mud. ‘Keep close to me,’ Dana told me as I did so, ‘seeing these buildings larger makes me feel dizzy.’ As if to punctuate this, she tripped on her legs again, right before we both scurried back in the grass as a human passed by, the clicking of his feet pounding into my brain. The pounding in my brain matched the pounding of my heart as I pondered the possibility of becoming human, and I told myself that while dodging shoes, I should remember that I was doing so to make sure such a thing would no longer be a problem. I would no longer hide from the humans, I would walk beside them. They wouldn’t grimace to see me on their food, they would smile at me as they saw me on the pavement.

Dana and I could go running through the fields together.

Both of us becoming human dominated my mind as Dana tried to lead the way towards where the scientist lived. When we were human, I thought, we wouldn’t be able to hide in a drainpipe nor would we need to. When we were human, our food sources didn’t have to come from what other humans disposed with.

As night fell, Dana perked up her head and screamed, ‘Fucker still has my car!’ Before us stood what looked like a gigantic sugar cube covered in mould, making me glad that I had recently had a snack of a discarded piece of chocolate. When we were human, I said to myself, we wouldn’t have to settle for less when it comes to food. This large building will look smaller. We could walk through doors instead of cracks in the walls.

The room we entered resembled the nest where I grew up, where the walls were taller and less colourful, with a floor that resembled a grey, frozen lake and there were what looked like the benches I saw in the parks, only lined with various glasses and metallic equipment I couldn’t name.

Again, we saw a pair of large shoes, making both of us instinctively crawl behind a table leg. Peeking around, I saw on the floor ant entrails. Dana placed her two forelegs against her pincers.

‘Well, well,’ came the voice from above, making my head throb harder than the footsteps against the pavement, ‘you weren’t very effective workers, were you?’ I scuttled closer to the feet despite Dana growling at me not to and saw that the human in the white coat was looking down at the dead ants. ‘Guess you lost your chance to be human again,’ they added, placing a glass on top of the table Dana and I were hiding beneath. Back to Dana I went, my thorax and abdomen filled with a fierce stinging at how we had come too late to save these humans-turned-ants, alleviated by how that fate didn’t befall Dana, and the fact that I had a good idea how we were going to become human.

Both of us sat behind the table leg, watching the scientist gloat at their triumph, and as soon as they left the room, Dana walked beside me again, this time so I could guide her up the table leg. ‘Come on,’ I said to her, making sure she clung on. I was the first to climb onto the surface, and Dana suggested I bow my head down so she could grab onto my pincers with her forelegs, bringing us to the same level.

I was reminded of the picnic blankets I and my colony had passed, but there were no baskets or half-eaten meat to be found; only a pile of glass and soil, and the glass the scientist had been carrying, its label featuring what looked like severed legs arranged into a strange pattern.

‘This is it!’ cried Dana, tapping the label. ‘It says “Ant to Human”. Betty! This could work!’

I raced over to the bottle, my mind again filled with images on what I saw on a daily basis that I could finally participate in, all the new tastes I could sample, all the new places I could go. I almost leapt onto it, digging my pincers into what was jammed in the top as Dana pressed her head against the main body. As soon as the top flew off, the glass toppled over. As it contents poured onto the ground, Dana and I dove into it.

This is it, I thought as I scuttled over to the potion which we had managed to spill onto the floor. The end of my old life and the beginning of a new, more exciting one.

If this scientist could turn humans into ants, they could turn ants into humans.

No more living in fear, I told myself as I dipped my pincers into the fluid as Dana was doing. No more would I have to worry about birds or mantises or anything else. Things would be simpler, things would be more fun….

Caterpillars.

As soon as I tasted the liquid it felt like caterpillars - a myriad of writhing caterpillars - had invaded my body like one had invaded the hive, thrusting against the insides of my legs and thorax, demanding escape.

More and more caterpillars spawned within me, and my body changed to accommodate them.

Yes, I said to myself as I felt my body inflate, the shelf and walls in my vision shrinking. Yes, I’m growing, no-one will ever step on me again.

I still felt the caterpillars. I felt them stretch and squirm within me, forcing my eyes to the front of my head and ripping away two of my legs. My stinger and antennae forcing themselves back in my body - feeling like a bird’s beak shoving itself into my insides - made me fall, the chill of the floor making the caterpillars livelier.

I forced my eyes open to see my abdomen shrinking and my back legs inflating to look like colossal earthworms, sprouting what looked like maggots forcing their way out. For a minute, I swore I felt my antennae return - it felt like several of them bursting from my skull. It felt like cocoons were sprouting from the side of my head, and some of the caterpillars inside me had successfully escaped through my face and my legs yet still stuck to me.

I heard, ‘It worked! You’re human!’ yet the pain failed to subside. I not only felt writhing, I felt a whole new creature inside me, readying itself to burst out.

Again, I forced myself to open my eyes to look at my feet. Feet like those that had eliminated and tormented so much of my kind, toes as large as I had been previously, a big maggot with little maggots sprouting from it that I could control. As soon as my brain told me to get back on six legs, it told me to get back on two.

I stood, towering over what had previously towered over me. I looked at a table and saw it as something to lean on and place what I could use on, but I saw it as something to crawl up and crawl under. I looked at a chair and saw it as something to sit on and to sit under.

‘Betty, you look beautiful.’

I stared at my friend right in the eyes. I stared at a human right in the eyes. As I looked at those bizarre marbles called eyes and the many long thin antennae sprouting from her head, I saw what I had been blessed with. I saw what I had and could never had.

I was staring at her right in the eyes and crawling at her feet.

For a fleeting second, I was back in my old body: an ant with six limbs and antennae crawling under grass instead of attempting to walk in a room full of test-tubes. Both realities felt wispy.

Dana had been forced to take a potion that turned her into an ant like I used to be. The only thing, I believe, that prevented me from looking for that potion was the fact Dana had called me beautiful.

Dana had found the outfit she was wearing before her first transformation, and after dressing herself, returned with clothing from a less fortunate victim of the scientist.

In her fingers, she held a pair of shoes. Shoes like those I had narrowly escaped from, shoes that seemed to bulge as Dana held them. As I took the shoes from her, there was another moment where I was back in nature, but I was still human, looking down at my tinier ant self.

Just put on the clothes, I ordered myself. One thing humans do frequently is wear clothes, so I reasoned my first article of clothing would help tether me to the world of humanity and my previous life would fade.

Dana held up a t-shirt in front of my chest, a garment I could once explore like it was a nest, now made to be draped over my body. Again, I was that human that attempted to step on my previous self, quickly reasoning how to put on the shirt and jeans and shoes, though Dana assisted. It was like flying through shrinking tunnels.

Once dressed, Dana took me by the hand and guided me outside. I was closer to the sky than I had been before. I raised my hand, almost certain I could pluck off one of the stars. For a second, I felt like a god.

In another second, the sky itself became a god, seemingly furious at my transformation, coming closer to show that even in my new form, I could still be crushed.

Dana stumbled, almost sending us falling face-first into the ground. ‘Sorry,’ she said, ‘guess I’m still getting reacquainted with being me. You know, I never knew what ants went through until I became one myself. I’m…’ She helped me up to my feet, even though a voice bellowed in my head that I should be standing on six limbs and not two. ‘I’m glad I helped you escape that.’

I still needed escape.

Dana directed me to what she called a “car”, what I first saw as a warped beast with two mouths and two leather tongues, its monstrous nature diminished when Dana happily leapt in, and patted one of those tongues. The car didn’t gnash or bite – though it made a noise like a roar when it started – so I made my way in, looking at a smaller version of that grey river through glass.

Dana took us back to her home – what looked like a gigantic slab that grew larger as I entered. Out I stepped into the night, with Dana wrapping her arm – what had once been a foreleg – around my form as I couldn’t help but look at my feet. What I had managed to narrowly avoid for so long now belonged to me.

One reason I dreamed of becoming human was that with larger size, as I heard, comes a longer life. A human body brings forth the possibility of seeing more change, more innovation, a far cry from an ant's repetitive life, which carried with it the looming suspicion that each night may be the last one you may witness.

That suspicion hung over me even as a human. It didn’t feel like the last night before death, but it was heralding an ending. 

The next morning, to celebrate Dana’s return to humanity and my initiation into it, we decided to visit the spot where we first met.

The day began with a shower that left me shuddering as I remembered the myriad raindrops that threatened to destroy me, and a new set of clothes courtesy of Dana’s wardrobe. Again, she held me so I could walk on two legs because I was supposed to.

I was supposed to be a biped vertebrate. I was supposed to feel close to the sky and be larger than the bins and the shrubs we passed. The sunlight was supposed to feel like a tiny roasting on my skin.

I thought my mind was finally adjusting to my new body as I embraced the morning air. No more ant me. Human thoughts and human thoughts only.

Then I saw the other ants.

I looked at them and remembered when I had been among them, when I had been the same size and had been promised the same lifetime as them. ‘No,’ I whispered as I felt like I was the same size as them again.

Seeing them made my feet sting, as if they were begging me to crush them since I had the power to, as if destruction of ants were an integral part of human nature.

I saw them as potential humans.

Though I closed my eyes, I saw all of them inflating to my size, their antennae and legs and abdomen shrivelling away to make way for fingers and toes and hair and ears and noses. I saw the world through their eyes, I saw their nest and their surroundings stretch and flatten and warp. It was what I had experienced, but I had wanted this.

‘Are you okay?’

I turned to see a human, momentarily distracted from their ice cream cone. I had always wondered what it would be like to hold one of those things, to eat them without having them fall.

I saw the human as a potential ant.

I saw them transform as Dana described her own transformation, their ice cream falling to the ground as their fingers burrowed back into their arms and their hair hid away to herald the arrival of antennae.

I imagined flattening them under my foot, maybe punctuating it with ‘Now you know how it feels!’ and I wasn’t sure how I felt about the fact I laughed at that.

‘Betty, are you okay?’

Again, we walked beside each other.

When I was an ant, I scurried across a discarded human object that I assumed was one of those things they wore for the sole purpose of decorating themselves. As a human, I learned it was a key.

When Dana took me back to her house, she told me she was locking the door - yet another object that seemed to stretch and shrink as I looked at it - in case the scientist responsible for our transformations found us. A key was used in tandem with a device called a lock to stop doors from opening.

When you are an ant, things just are. Birds want to fly down and eat you because they just do. You can lift heavy things because you just can. Humans find you disgusting because they just do.

In hopes of helping me adjust to my new humanity, Dana showed me a device that resembled a portable rectangular puddle. Like a puddle, I saw my reflection - I saw the being with several thin long antennae and the forward-facing eyes and as I did, the caterpillars within me squirmed all the more - but unlike puddles, I saw that locks didn’t stop doors from opening because they just did. The doors were prevented from opening due to parts as small as I used to be.

As privileged as I felt to learn what few - if any other - ants had no idea of, I found myself looking at an open door in Dana’s home, leading to a small room with tall sticks.

Dana was a human who became an ant and became a human again and she can become an ant again. All there was outside were people who had the potential to be crushed and ants who had the potential to do the crushing. Even if I turned back into an ant, what I learnt would remain and my nest would grow and shrink and expand and compress. I would imagine the other ants as humans ready to kill me, and myself as a human ready to kill them.

I wondered if it would be better if I locked myself in that small room and did nothing but imagine what I thought being human would be like until I died of starvation.

It wasn’t until then I noticed I was in Dana’s kitchen, a place many ants had been in before, a place that seemed entirely made of shimmering white water.

‘Betty,’ Dana cried, grabbing a bottle of water – resembling the glass that induced my transformation in the first place - from the cupboard, ‘drink this; you’ll feel better.’

I held the bottle in my hand, its contents just enough to soothe my dehydration.

I held the house I was in in my hand, my finger just barely fitting through the door I could once walk easily through.

I held the country in my hand, trees flattening in my grip.

I held the sky in my hand, the stars scattered across my palm like sugar.

I felt more like a human being than ever before.

With the many times I momentarily felt like I had transformed back into an ant, I was long overdue to feel like the human I had become. The human I was.

I was human. The rooms I stood in and the furniture they contained were made for me. The sofa was where I could sit or sleep. The tables were where I could place food.

When I accidentally spilled biscuits on the floor, I had no desire to nibble at it. When I looked at a window and the sunlight piercing it, it reminded me nothing of another glass held by a sadistic child.

I was human. Dana was human and so was I. When she held me, it was not to allow me to crawl across her palm nor was it to reduce me to entrails between her fingers. When she held me, she pressed her palms against my shoulders and elbows, making my stomach settle when it needed settling.

I was human. Dana believed I was worthy of knowledge that only humans were privy to.

‘Welcome to Dana’s human lessons,’ Dana had said to me after I held that bottle, holding up a sheet of paper with “HUMAN LESSONS” written on it. I know that because she pointed at each letter and sounded them out, my first step to deciphering what were once odd markings.

There were many objects in Dana’s home, and like the lock and the key, I learned how they worked, and they were not “just because”. Every object had a story, and each story featured Dana. She not only explained the contents of the kitchen, but what she had made with them. There was more to be done with food than just take it, scuttle away and eat it.

And there was more to devour than just food. Every room, everything contained in those rooms, they had Dana’s stories that could be my stories as well. No ants knew about internet or ibuprofen, but explanations of those and what they did now rested in my enlarged brain.

Then she showed me, in her own words: ‘something I liked as a kid but comes off a bit differently now.’

Ants. Ants as seen by humans. Ants like I was once as seen by humans like I am now.

We did look around woods like those for food, and we even surprised ourselves in how much we managed to carry away, but we were nowhere near as jovial about it as the cartoon - as Dana called it - portrayed.

The ants there looked less like ants than they did how I imagine I looked during my transformation.

That’s when I realised why I was so eager to learn about the human world.

I was a human. I was an ant.

Dana was a human. Dana was an ant.

Both of us had crawled beneath the roots of trees and brushed our fingers against their highest branches. Both of us had seen the sky clearly and obscured by blades of grass.

I didn’t feel like I had become an ant again, yet I found myself hungering for that form, but only for a moment. A moment where I could return to my colony and share stories of everything I had learned, everything they willingly ignored and mocked.

The humans would see me transform again, I thought, they would believe that Dana was briefly an ant and so would believe her stories of what it was like.

The days of ants being vilified, mocked, flattened and roasted would come to an end. I saw ants as potential humans and humans as potential ants because I saw them learning more about each other.

And there were other animals out there too. What would it be like to fly like a bird, to be even closer to the sky? What would it be like to be a dog, larger than the grass yet smaller than the bins?

We had to pay another visit to the scientist.

‘Look, I’m sorry I haven’t been coming in these past few days,’ I heard Dana say while speaking into that portable puddle of hers, ‘I know about the disappearances, yes, it’s…well, I’ve recently made this new friend and well…she had a lot of sisters and her mother was very demanding, so you can see why I feel I should spend…okay…well, I’ll be delivering tonight.’ After placing her device in her pocket, she sat beside me on the sofa – a reminder that we were the same size – and buried her face in her hands.

I used the English I had picked up both from walking amongst the humans and beneath them to say, ‘You should have told them.’

‘I should have,’ sighed Dana, ‘but well, “I haven’t been to work today and didn’t finish delivering the pizzas because I got turned into an ant” isn’t going to sound very plausible. They won’t believe me.’

‘Humans should know,’ I replied, again looking at my hands, ‘maybe…maybe I should become an ant again…’

‘Betty,’ cried Dana, standing up, ‘no.’

‘Just for a while,’ I said, standing up to face her.

‘Betty, no,’ she repeated, holding me by the shoulders again, ‘I don’t want you to end up like those others. Being an ant was a nightmare for me and it was just for a day, I don’t want you to be stepped on or eaten, not after you saved my life.’

I gestured with my head towards her hands on my shoulders, indicating that the feeling of her soft palms was a feeling I wanted to share. ‘If humans see they could turn into ants and ants could turn into humans, I thought they would treat ants better, and maybe if I turn into an ant again, I could find other ants like me and…’ I again gestured with my head, this time to my form.

‘Oh, Betty.’

At this, Dana wrapped her arms around me.

Again, I felt the caterpillars within me. They were not squirming around my internal skeleton or attempting to escape from my skin.

They celebrated.

It was warmth, like that beam from that circular piece of glass. A beam that threatened not to destroy me, but any doubts or fears.

I couldn’t help but wrap my arms around her as well.

It was something I was privileged to experience. Something very few beings born ants had the opportunity to experience.

Something I needed to share.

My fingers became worms, attempting to burrow into Dana’s skin in an attempt to make this feeling last as long as it could, and yet when she said, ‘Please let go,’ I did as she told me with both of us chuckling, another moment that seemed to release those stinging creatures within me.

‘Betty,’ Dana said, shaking her head, ‘after going through what you have…part of me just wants to go out and turn all the ants in the world into humans. I can’t very well do that, I know.’

‘My sisters liked being ants,’ I responded as I remembered how gleeful they were when they had that grasshopper in their clutches. As much as that memory made my stomach it was undergoing what happened to that grasshopper, I still felt like I shouldn’t take that away from them.

Somewhere, there was another ant like me, looking up at humans and wishing she could be among them, not knowing there was something that could make her dream come true. She would most likely die before discovering it, I thought.

‘After all you’ve been through, I just felt you should have a normal life, but…’ Dana sighed. ‘Well, I mean, you’re probably the only…’ Her eyes grew larger, her limbs shaking. ‘Oh, fuck.’

‘What is it?’

‘That formula!’ cried Dana, running to her bedroom, ‘We spilled it…’ I followed her. ‘…and ants…’

Ants flock to anything edible spilled on the floor.

Again, my stomach felt like to was being devoured. I thought back to when I first became human, when I first struggled to see everything the size it was supposed to be, when those caterpillars attempted to burst from me, when one pair of legs disappeared yet I still felt them.

And I was prepared. And I wanted to be human.

‘Look!’ Before I could enter Dana’s bedroom, she ran out with a bag, clattering noises emitting from it. After opening it, she showed it was full of bottles. Bottles of the formula that had turned her into an ant, and us into humans. ‘I took these so they couldn’t do anything with them. With these, we should at least have a bargaining chip.’ The word “chip” took my mind to something I had often picked up to eat, but I knew full well words could have several meanings.

We both ran into Dana’s car, and this time, it was less to me like a hungry beast, and more like the entrance to my old nest. I sat beside Dana as she drove, picturing those other ants drinking from the puddle we created. I could see them inflating, their skeleton sucked into their body, resembling those ants we saw from the cartoon only larger and ganglier.

The scientist’s home seemed to spring up right in front of me, reminding me of the hungry birds I had managed to escape from. Without saying anything, Dana and I rushed to the door, with both of us pounding on it before taking a step backwards.

The scientist opened the door.

The grasshopper opened the door.

As soon as they, who had caused Dana to live the same nightmare I had been forced to survive, made their appearance, I lunged towards them, grabbing them by the wrist. As soon as I seized them, they stumbled over backwards into their laboratory, into where I had first increased in size. Walls and shelves that span and warped before me I first time I saw span and warped again, yet I forced my attention towards the scientist, a human about the same size I was, with black hair and wearing a white coat.

‘Who are you?’ they barked, before I noticed Dana enter, closing the door behind her.

‘Don’t you remember me?’ Dana walked closer, scowling at the scientist who scowled at her back. ‘Of course, you wouldn’t,’ Dana added.

I swear I saw my Queen, my mother, standing in front of me. Though I was still a human and she was still an ant, she towered over me like I now towered over the tables and chairs. She bent her head down at the scientist and nodded.

‘Oh, I see,’ sneered the scientist as they attempted to escape my grasp, ‘were you the one who spilled and took my formula?’ Dana and I nodded. ‘Well, some heroes you were. I thought I had killed every inhabitant of my little ant farm, but I come back into my lab to find two of them human again, just staring at their hands. You should have come…’

I dug my fingers into their wrist.

With the images of a transformation like my own returning to my brain, I looked over the laboratory, even as it stretched and shrunk before my eyes, and the wet stench distracted me.

‘I don’t think those were your victims,’ replied Dana after taking a deep breath, ‘they were ants.’

‘Of course they were…’

‘I mean ants who were born ants!’

The scientist stopped attempting to free their wrist. ‘What?’

Dana covered her face, as if trying to tear her skin off, and laughed a laugh that seemed to pierce my insides. ‘You seriously didn’t know it did that?’

The scientist didn’t respond.

‘I mean,’ Dana continued, removing her hand so she could stare at the scientist in their eyes, ‘were you planning on turning any of your victims back at all if they were good, or did you just create that formula in case you accidentally started turning yourself into an ant?’

The scientist reached for my hand with their free hand, and I grabbed their other wrist as well, bringing them back to their feet.

‘Did…did you seriously do this just to be evil? Like you wanted to be Big Jack Horner or something?’

I stared at the scientist, imagining my sisters swarming over them.

‘Well, look at my friend Betty. Some villain you are; the best thing that ever happened to her was because of your little experiments.’ Dana smiled at me. ‘The best thing that ever happened to me was because of your little experiments.’

That warmth returned. I almost let the scientist go simply to embrace Dana again.

As I remembered that hug we only just shared, I felt the scientist dig their nails into my fingers, the pain allowing them to escape. I reached for them again, only for them to bat my hand away.

‘Where are those people you found?’ barked Dana.

‘Wouldn’t you like to know?’ replied the scientist, nodding their head to the side.

From her bag, Dana held out a bottle.

‘Oh, you think that scares me? You did nothing! As soon as I saw those two, I mixed up a new batch of formula and put them back in the ant farm. I also mix…’

Before they could finish, I dove for them, slamming them back onto the floor.

I was an ant again, attempting to escape shoes.

I was a human, looking at an ant that deserved to be reduced to a pile of tiny entrails.

I was a human, shoving my foot in the stomach of another human.

Dana looked over them, formula in her hand. ‘We’ll make sure you never get to that other formula.’ She bent over to look at them. ‘Betty became human because she deserved to be human. What do you deserve?’

The scientist shuddered.

I placed my foot down harder as I turned to see Dana take two more bottles off a nearby shelf, which I noticed reminded me of the walls of my old nest. ‘Maybe we’ll go easier on you if you cooperate.’

‘What do you mean?’

‘Turning into a human and back again when you weren’t prepared…’ Dana turned to the same table we had climbed up, the table where the ant farm rested. ‘…that has to be frightening. But maybe they want to try out being human, maybe they want an opportunity to experience what has been kept from them. If they don’t, perhaps they know of another ant who does.’

I lifted my leg. The scientist still lay.

‘They both need someone to talk to, but they can only really talk to another ant.’

I swallowed, moving away from the scientist towards Dana.

Dana bent down to better look at the scientist. ‘Turn me back into an ant.’

‘No!’ I cried.

‘You discovered the greatest breakthrough in zoological study,’ Dana continued, facing the scientist, ‘that can help us understand ants and them understand us, and you waste it just being a sadist. Turn me into an ant again, let me talk to the ants, then make me human again so I can report what I learned.’

‘No!’ I repeated, ‘Let me!’

‘Betty!’ She placed her hands on my arms again, letting that warmth return. ‘You’ve been through enough. If I do this, then it won’t matter if I get stuck as an ant forever or turn into a person with a big ant head, because at least then you’ll get to stay human. You’ll get the life you deserve.’

That warmth faded as soon as I heard clinking.

The scientist, back on their feet, hand nearing the bag around Dana’s shoulder. I instinctively clawed at them, making them back away.

‘You know,’ Dana said to him, ‘if you want to turn people into ants and step on them, you could do it to someone who deserves it and make money off it. Reveal to the world you made a Human-to-Ant formula, and an Ant-to-Human formula and billionaires will pay tonnes to be an ant for a weekend, just to say they have. Then, you know, you “accidentally” knock the ant farm over.’

The scientist sighed. ‘Why didn’t I think of that?’ They followed that up with a smile while adding, ‘Maybe we can work something out.’

As they spoke, I looked at the ant farm where two ants like me were now residing. A house with two humans living inside it I could hold in my hands. I took the same bottle I saw the scientist reaching for. I still couldn’t read what it said, but I knew it was the Human-to-Ant formula, especially since Dana said, ‘No!’ when I grabbed it.

‘Dana,’ I said, walking towards the table where the ant farm lay, ‘please let me do this.’ I placed the formula on the table and turned back to Dana, placing my hands on her arms like she did with me, hopefully delivering my own warmth.

‘Are you sure you want to do this?’

‘I’ve been an ant longer…’

‘Exactly,’ replied Dana, looking at the floor, ‘We don’t know if we will be able to make you human again if you turn into an ant or…’

‘I will have been a human,’ I replied, smiling.

Dana gave me her own smile. ‘So, better to have humaned and lost than to have never humaned at all?’

When I realised what she meant, I nodded.

After I pulled my hands – soon to be tarsi – away from Dana’s arms, she placed her palm on my cheek. ‘What if something goes wrong? What if…’

‘Dana,’ was all I could bring myself to say, and from the look in her face, she knew what I meant.

At that moment, we were both human beings.

Dana brought her face closer to mine and I brought her face closer to hers and we did what I had seen so many humans do and had wanted to do myself. It was another hug, a closer hug, one bringing a stronger warmth to it, making the caterpillars within me remain still.

Even if I turned back into an ant, I thought, and stayed that way forever, nothing would be the same.

As our lips separated, and we took a moment to look at each other in the eyes, I held the formula again. I said, ‘Please let me give them what you gave me.’

‘Are you sure about this?’ Dana asked, and I nodded. ‘Can I just do something first?’ she asked, pulling out her portable puddle. ‘You remember what I showed you about the locks? The video? We can take one of you transforming, to show others to show that it’s possible.’

The scientist cringed. ‘I…probably should have done that, shouldn’t I?’

‘You keep quiet,’ Dana asked and the scientist, who moments earlier had been trying to turn us both back into ants, did as she requested. I still kept my eyes fixed on them, preparing myself should they try anything else.

‘Hello!’ Dana said as she held the device, the one for making videos, up to her face with one hand. In the other hand, she held a formula. ‘My name is Dana and this is Betty. Look, how do I explain this…I was turned into an ant by an evil scientist.’ She swerved the device at the scientist themselves, who grinned and waved at it. ‘Thankfully, I managed to get changed back,’ she continued, holding the device closer to me. ‘I have Betty here to thank for that. She took the formula…the formula I used to turn back into a human and she turned into a human too, but she was born an ant.’ She turned the device back to her direction. ‘For the last few days, I have been teaching her how to be human, and now I’m going to turn her back into an ant so she can share what she’s learned with other ants. We’re going to see if they want to be human as well.’

Dana asked me if there was anything I wanted to say before I took the formula.

I looked at Dana. Dana who I had just kissed. Dana who I had just held.

All I could say was, ‘Dana. I love you.’

I took the formula.

Transforming into an ant was exactly how Dana described it. As a human, I kept fearing my internal skeleton would rip out of my skin, and that's what it felt like as I shrunk, my vision of the world growing eclipsed by the clothes I could no longer wear collapsing before me.

When I was a human, I lost two of my legs yet still could feel them. During my second period living as an ant, I still felt the fingers and toes that had shrivelled away to nothing.

I still felt the lips that had pressed against Dana's.

I will become human again, I told myself. After I explain humanity to other ants, and Dana and the scientist bestow humanity on those who want it, I'll also be given the Ant-to-Human formula again and be with Dana again.

‘Okay, Betty,’ I heard Dana say before she took a deep breath, ‘Just go into the ant farm and talk to them. If they want to be human, have them follow you. If they don’t, have them stay still.’

I walked through the tunnels on six legs, yet an ache in all six of them told me I should have been walking on two. I was supposed to be bipedal.

I felt bones resting beneath skin. I was supposed to be a vertebrate.

The soil I travelled through had walls, windows, doors and a floor. I was supposed to live in a house.

I was supposed to be human.

I was supposed to be with Dana.

‘Look!’ I approached the other two ants, with one of them approaching me. ‘I saw you transform like we did! Thank goodness you managed to turn back!’

‘I want to talk to you about that,’ I said, raising a foreleg that was supposed to have fingers. ‘My name is Betty. I want to know if you want to be human again.’

The ant behind backed away as the ant in front remained. ‘No, of course not.’

‘Could you describe it for me?’

‘I don’t want to…’ The ant shook her head. ‘Did you actually like it? Did you actually like having your exoskeleton forced into you like that?’

I felt my exoskeleton. I felt my internal skeleton.

My internal skeleton and all the caterpillars were still there, compressed in my smaller body, pounding against my exoskeleton, begging for me to enlarge again.

‘It felt like there were caterpillars inside you, didn’t it?’ I asked.

The ant looked at the other ant behind her, and then back at me. ‘That’s probably the best way of putting it, actually. It felt like something was going to tear out of me. It was…it was probably like if you survived being eaten by a bird.’

‘It’s frightening at first,’ I explained, ‘but there’s so much good about being human.’ I turned to Dana watching me from outside with her device, her eyes as large as I was now. I still felt her lips press against mine. ‘I met this other human, you see. She…when I was with her and when she held me, all the pain and agony I felt faded.’

‘Did it?’

‘You’ve probably had humans almost flatten you or put that large glass in your direction. I have, but all that, everything I’ve been through, it went away when I was with Dana. You saw her kiss me, didn’t you?’

‘Was that when she shoved that big rock in front of your face?’

‘No,’ I snapped, right as the moment we embraced entered my head, ‘It felt like…it felt like when you find some sugar, and the relief after managing to protect the nest, and the relief from having just escaped a bird…it was every good feeling you’ve ever felt but all at the same time!’

‘I still don’t want to go through that again,’ said the ant in front before gesturing at the one behind her who seemed to shrink, ‘and neither does she. I don’t think what you described is worth feeling like the world is closing in on you.’

‘I felt that way too,’ I said, finding myself on two legs again, ‘but the more time I spent in that body, the more right it felt. You see, I looked around Dana’s house and so many things reminded me of what had threatened my life in the past, but the more time I spent with Dana, the more I saw them the way she saw them.’

I imagined the two ants before me as the humans they transformed into; though I had never seen their human forms, I pictured them looking as I did when I transformed. I imagined us sitting at a table, drinking coffee.

‘You won’t have to scurry around looking for food anymore!’ I continued, ‘You won’t have to worry about being stepped on or birds or mantises eating you or butterflies invading your nest!’

‘Humans hurt each other as well, I’ve heard,’ the ant in front replied, ‘and if we’re bigger, we’ll need more food, won’t we?’

I looked at Dana again, and then at the scientist, a large grin lighting their face.

‘There’ll be more tastes!’ I continued, ‘More things around to eat!’

‘Please…Betty…’ sighed the ant in front, ‘We’re happy the way we are. I’m glad you were happy with what you became, but I think if it happened to us, we’ll just be begging to be ants again like we were when it happened the first time.’

‘If you say so,’ I said, ‘if you really want to stay ants, just stand where you are for the time being, so the humans out there know not to transform you. When you’re released,’ I continued, again standing on my hind legs as if they needed reminding of my time as a human, ‘tell the other ants about this. Tell them where to find me.’

I received no response.

I walked away from them, leaving them alone.

‘Okay,’ said Dana, speaking into her device, ‘she’s spoken to the ants, asked them if they wanted to be human, and they seem to have refused. I suppose it’s not everyone’s cup of tea, really. We are going to release these two ants and hopefully, they’ll help spread the word to other ants so we can find another “Betty” to transform.’

She pulled the device away from her face and turned to the scientist. ‘Are you going to make her human again now?’ the scientist asked.

‘I…I’m not sure,’ Dana said, ‘I mean, even you don’t fully know how your own formula works. I think Betty needs to speak to more than just two ants for the news to properly spread, but I don’t think we can just have her go back and forth from ant to human constantly.’ She turned to me again. ‘Betty. I’m sorry. It’s just…well, I could tell you were having a bit of trouble adjusting to being human the first time, and now it seems you’re attempting to adjust to being an ant again.’

She held the puddle in front of me, showing me talk to the other ants, pointing out the anthropomorphic gestures I made while doing so.

‘I don’t know how constantly switching between the two will affect you, and I don’t really want to find out. I think we need you to talk to more ants. Once we’re sure that what we’re doing is properly well-known amongst them, and…and ants come to us…I love you, Betty.’

Though I inwardly begged her to feed me the formula and return the fingers, hair, toes and height the caterpillars within me had been hungering for, I knew such a thing was selfish of me. I nodded in agreement.

Dana and the scientist brought many ants my way. I explained to them the gift, the hands that I could hold Dana's with, the hair Dana ran her fingers through.

I explained how everything warped in front of me, the caterpillars that writhed beneath my skin, the throbbing internal skeleton.

While conducting these lectures, I was placed by two wooden structures, which I was told were a Y and a N. If the ant I spoke to wanted to be human, I would crawl to the Y. If not, I would crawl to the N.

It was the latter I crawled to every time.

The first time I saw true interest in the transformation was not from an ant, but a wasp that had managed to fly into the laboratory. When she landed on the table where I sat, she explained she had heard about the formula from overhearing ants' conversations; at least I knew my word was spreading.

'Do you think it could work on me?' she asked me, her wings twitching, 'Then...then I wouldn't be useless. I wouldn't be just some insignificant pest good for nothing but stinging.'

It wasn't humanity she wanted, I thought, it was respect. If she took the formula, she would see the world before her distort, she would feel caterpillars infest her body, she would suffer when there was no need.

Dana and the scientist had noticed me talking to her, and Dana had even started a video of it.

‘Of course!’ Dana cried, ‘Ants are related to wasps…’ She turned to the scientist briefly. ‘Don’t tell me you seriously didn’t know that. The formula could work on them too!’

I was about to explain what I felt upon first becoming human, but then I imagined her transforming like I had, and her finding a Dana of her own. I imagined her with hands she could hold someone else's with, I imagined her bipedal so she could run together with someone.

Before I explained all the good and bad I had experienced as a human, I made sure to also note all the good about wasps. I made sure to point out that her wasps pollinated and reminded her that she stung because she was threatened. ‘You believe that you sting just to be malicious,’ I said, ‘because that’s what others said.’

I looked at Dana again, and noticed she was smiling.

If the wasp became human, I found myself thinking, she could help other humans realise the good about other wasps. In fact, I didn’t just think it, I told it to her.

‘That little portable puddle, that little rock Dana’s holding,’ I said, gesturing to her device, ‘she’s making sure our conversation can be shown to others. If you become human, she’ll show it to others and they’ll know you’re a wasp turned into a human. Then you can tell them your side, you can tell them how they made you feel so they’ll learn to respect your sisters and your mother and other wasps.’

The wasp flew closer to me. ‘Yes, then I want it!’

I crawled over to the Y. Dana took out the formula, resting her device near us.

‘Okay, we have a volunteer. It’s not an ant, but a wasp, but I think it’s useful to see if this formula works on other insects.’

‘This is it,’ I said to the wasp, ‘Ready yourself.’

Dana held what looked like a flower with a long stalk, which splattered a few drops of the formula over the wasp.

She grew.

Her body enlarged with her thin waist inflating to match, with Dana placing her off the table and onto the floor just as her wings folded into her back. I crawled to the edge of the table, watching what Dana was making sure would be seen again with her device. The wasp’s antennae seemed to curl into her head, and while her middle pair of legs shrivelled away, the other four thickened, becoming those large thick earthworms sprouting maggots. What looked like pale honey seemed to erupt from her thorax, eclipsing the yellow and black colouring on her body. Her abdomen and that stinger that had made her a pariah deflated. As she grew lips like those I used to have, her mandibles sunk into that upper lip, heralding the unfolding of her new ears, the emergence of her new nose, and the sprouting of her new hair.

Just looking at it reminded me of my first transformation into a human and despite how painful it was, how my whole body hungered for it again.

When the former wasp looked at her trembling fingers, I too felt my own fingers again.

When she stood up, the room I was in seemed to shrink.

When she stroked her arms, I felt my and Dana’s skin.

Dana pulled out something that resembled a picnic blanket and wrapped it around the wasp-turned-human before pulling out what she used to make videos. ‘So, there you go,’ Dana said, ‘it works on wasps.’

No more will she have to worry about hands swatting her away, I thought. No more will she have to think about how little time she has to live.

‘Okay,’ Dana said to the woman beside her, ‘okay…can you speak?’

She looked down at her body again, lifting her hand up to her face. ‘I…you…’

‘Yes?’

‘Thank you,’ she said before stumbling, with Dana catching her before she hit the floor. I wasn’t sure if it was because of how small the room had become for her, if she was trying to fly without wings or both.

‘Would you…would you like a name? I called that ant Betty, would you like to be called something?’

‘Yes.’

‘Um…how about Joan?’

‘Yes.’

‘There you go, this is Joan, ex-wasp.’ Dana pulled the phone away and turned to the scientist. ‘Okay, get Joan some clothes; I’ll see if I can help her adjust.’ As the scientist walked towards where they kept “trophies” of their victims, Dana placed both hands on the wasp’s shoulders, and for a minute, it was like I was human once more and I was looking into her eyes and she was doing the same to me.

‘It’s…strange.’

‘It will be at first,’ Dana explained, ‘but we’ll help you adjust. I’ll teach you about being human and so will others.’

‘Thank you.’

‘If you are able to,’ Dana asked, ‘could you please answer something? Did you hear about us from ants?’

‘Yes.’

‘Yes!’ cried Dana as the scientist returned with some clothing for Joan. ‘Did you hear that? It’s spreading! Betty can be human again!’

The caterpillars within me cheered, pounding against my exoskeleton as I looked up at Dana, holding that flower over me. I closed my eyes as I imagined my humanity returning, again having hands to hold Dana’s with, having lips to press against her own.

I sat for several minutes but nothing happened.

‘No…’ Dana gasped, splattering another drop on me. ‘No, what’s going on?’

I opened my eyes to see I still had antennae and pincers, and that Dana, the scientist and a clothed Joan towered over me. Though my body throbbed and it felt like fingers were pressing against my front feet, I wasn’t transforming.

‘What’s happening?’ cried Dana.

‘I don’t know,’ the scientist replied.

‘Oh, of course, you don’t,’ snarled Dana, ‘of course you don’t.’

‘It might have been that she was in that form too long…’

‘Well, I spent an entire day as an ant and I…’

‘But Betty…’

‘Betty is human!’

Dana collapsed on the table right beside me, her head hidden by her arms as she sobbed loudly. I crawled up her arm, the arm I could still feel.

‘Dana,’ I heard the scientist say, ‘I’m sorry.’

‘Sorry isn’t going to bring back those people you fucking killed!’ screamed Dana, raising her head as I scurried back to the table, ‘Sorry isn’t going to make Betty…’ Dana took a deep breath. ‘It had to be a mad scientist I had to meet, not some fucking wizard. Why can’t I just…’ She breathed in again. ‘Why can’t I just cry on Betty and there’s all these sparkles and she turns back? Why does…’

‘She…’ Joan spoke up, ‘…I would like to speak to her again.’

‘So do I,’ Dana sobbed.

‘She said…she said I could…I could…’

‘You could help others see how wonderful wasps are.’

Joan nodded, and she and Dana hugged tightly.

More and more ants were sent my way, and some of them agreed to the transformation. I’m glad that you agreed as well, so after you transform, you can share this story with others. Other ants who have agreed to this, I have been using to talk to Dana; please tell her again that I love her.

Please tell her again that not a day goes by when I don’t remember the brief time we spent together. Please tell her again that I’ll always remember the kiss we shared before I became an ant again.

She has tried to find a way to make me human again, but I told her through the last ant who accepted to focus on others like you.

I hope that you find someone like her. I hope that you feel what I’ve felt and feel it always.

I am still a human, but I am still an ant as well. I know that Dana will help us live a better and more peaceful life, one with less fear. I know that Joan and the others who have taken the formula will help educate other humans about insects. Pesticides could be a thing of the past. Humans will give us sugar like they give birds seed.

I thought I would live a longer life, but death seems to be crawling towards me, I feel. At least I won’t be outliving my sisters. At least I’ll have done something.

All ants are good for is ruining picnics. All wasps are good for is being pests. You and I and Joan and Dana are going to reverse this mindset, and from what Dana’s told me, it’s working already.

I am going to crawl over to this Y and when I do, Laura, you will change from an ant to a human being. You will feel like caterpillars and maggots will be trying to burst from your body, but embrace them. Welcome them. The world will look like its warping before your eyes, but let it. That’s what we’re trying to do: warp the world.

Look at humans and see ants. Look at ants and see humans.

Become human, Laura. Make sure my story is shared, make sure your story is shared and step forth into the world of ants.

#humour #writing #humor #art #ant #ants #insect #insects #wasp #wasps #invertebrates #invertebrate #mad scientist #mad scientists #scientist #scientists #story #stories #short story #short stories #transformations #tw transformation #transformation #cw transformation #cw nudity #tw nudity #cw swearing #tw swearing #body horror #cw body horror

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Nimona's Subtle Racial Placement in a World of Wealth Gaps

The racial placement of Nimona was not lost on me, and its something I'm seeing more of in media, so lets talk about how Nimona did it and why:

The Queen was black, and as a black woman she was the one who chose Ballister, a commoner, a brown kid, to be the next Knight of the Realm. She chose him above all the elitist kids because she saw his merit, and chose not to let the status of the others affect her decisions. And she was killed for it by a white insurrectionist.

For years Ballister was bullied by Todd, a white man, while the other elitist knights did nothing. Except for Ambrosius, an Asian man (presumably since he's modeled after Eugene Lee Yang), who not only stood up for him, but ended up becoming so close to him that they became lovers.

There's a lot of diversity in this movie, both within the wealth classes (the highest position of power being held by a black woman while Nimona, who's whole story is about being oppressed and ostracized, is white), and among the general populace of multi-racial and ethnic side characters. Yet there's still mostly white knights among the Queen's guard, not to mention the original story of Gloreth revolves around a white girl brought into legacy. You could even argue colorism with how Ambrosius has a lighter complexion (especially considering he was originally white in the comics) and is brought up as the trusted descendent of Gloreth over the commoner Ballister.

Despite being a movie about classism that's set in a diverse world, Nimona still has a subtle racial aspect within its character dynamics. It does this for a very important reason: to bridge the gap between art and reality. In real life, we have white supremacy. In real life, we have capitalism. And Nimona uses its racial aspects to further make its point about the class divide and bigotry within a caste system.

Racial supremacy and the dismantling of it is a complex matter. Diversifying the world is easiest to achieve among the working class; you can show people of different skin tones in movies and TV, hire a more diverse racial pool within work environments, etc. But what gets difficult is changing the diversity within the elite spaces, because their place in the wealth gap has made them near impossible to touch from a working class position. Diversifying the space in a local diner? Easy, as long as the manager is willing. Diversifying the spaces within the Electoral College? Harvard alumni? HBO Executives? Good luck, you'd give an arm and a leg just to change maybe one person's position in those spaces. Because the power is so hoarded and privatized that changing anything, like racial diversity, would include upending the entire system that allowed for them to exist as they do. A local diner involves being able to convince one person in a small position to either change their model, or changing out that person with someone with a different model. The systems of supremacy don't have roots as deep within that scenario, but the elitists? They are the system. And to change them is to change the system entirely. You cannot eliminate the racism from elite spaces without dissolving the wealth gap.

Nimona shows this subtly, in that among the common people its super diverse (black news anchors, people of different skin tones occupying the same spaces, etc), but within the elite institutions, the Knight of the Realm was always someone who was from the elite, and had nepotism to get them through. Ambrosius was expected to be the Knight because of his heritage, and most of the knights in the guard along him and Ballister were white and had Old Money. The movie didn't need to include racism in their message against classism, but the creators wanted to bridge that gap between "movie metaphor for real world issues" and actual real world issues. They created "commoner" and made sure the audience knew that represented not just the "working class", but the racial working class. They made sure the implications of racial bias were there and readable for the people who could relate to the struggle of being a person of color in a supremacist society. They even made queer people feel seen, not just with Ambrosius and Ballister's relationship, but with Nimona's entire allegory for gender-queerness. Its a movie that aims to have its art reflect reality for the sake of making people get invested in their own real world issues within our real world society. Many "progressive" works now utilize talking points from progressive movements without actually giving representation to those affected, causing a case of appropriation painted as representation. Nimona aimed to create genuine representation that would be seen by the people who needed it most, not just with the obvious messages from the story-telling, but from the subtle bridges that connect this piece of fiction to the very real world it took inspiration from. And I think its safe to say Nimona achieved just that.

#anyway go watch Nimona #right now #and Sea Beast while you're at it #nimona #nimona movie #politics #wealth gap #racism #classism

[vivithefolle]

I think the most glaring inconsistent between the “smarts” of "hermione 1" and "hermione 2" is that she doesnt work WITH Harry and Ron as a team anymore. All those outrageous things like "punishing" Rita and Marietta and with her parents, even the time traveling, she does it off screen and alone. She’s SUCH a meta power breaking all the 4th walls because Rowling didn’t know how to write a trio anymore and cant let Hermione lowered herself to work with the actual teenage boy characters. (1)

(2). I can forgive her “momentary smarts” moments because I can see how actually being with friends emboldened her. I loved Ron for yelling at her for her slowness – as of book 2 I can see her taking that to heart and try not to be robotic. Before book 3, all her “independent rule breaking” was with them, to help them and when she was THERE with them.

(3) When she set Snape on fire or did the potions, she WAS alone yes, but Ron was watching her, and the Potion thing has logical development bc she had went into the Restricted Section for Harry in Book 1, and most important thing is she failed or was petrified. NOTHING like that anymore since book 3 because even Rowling knew those things Hermione did was too big for anyone.

On "Hermione 1" and "Hermione 2"

I think in the end it really just comes down to Rowling using Hermione as a "solve everything" trump card.

She said it herself, that Hermione explaining stuff makes sense because you just assume she's read it in a book. Ok, yeah...

But doesn't it also make sense for Ron to know things because he's wizard-raised and so would know stuff without need for books?

I mean look how perfectly it happened in COS!

Then Ron pushed Harry into an armchair and said, “You’re a Parselmouth. Why didn’t you tell us?” [...] “So?” said Harry. “I bet loads of people here can do it.” “Oh, no they can’t,” said Ron. “It’s not a very common gift. Harry, this is bad.” “What’s bad?” said Harry, starting to feel quite angry. “What’s wrong with everyone? Listen, if I hadn’t told that snake not to attack Justin —” “Oh, that’s what you said to it?” “What d’you mean? You were there — you heard me —” “I heard you speaking Parseltongue,” said Ron. “Snake language. You could have been saying anything — no wonder Justin panicked, you sounded like you were egging the snake on or something — it was creepy, you know —” Harry gaped at him. “I spoke a different language? But — I didn’t realize — how can I speak a language without knowing I can speak it?” Ron shook his head. Both he and Hermione were looking as though someone had died. Harry couldn’t see what was so terrible. - Chamber of Secrets

Ok, so why Hermione would look so stricken I dunno, maybe anxious, but I'll give it a pass because Harry Don't Know Feelings let's go with that. So Ron somewhat explains "this is bad" (but he does describe Parseltongue as "a gift", so, yknow, he wouldn't cut off someone's tongue if they spoke Parseltongue, I see you there you people who think Slytherins are "oppressed"), because in popular opinion this is bad. He explains to Harry why that looked bad, why people reacted the way they did, and what is Parseltongue.

“It matters,” said Hermione, speaking at last in a hushed voice, “because being able to talk to snakes was what Salazar Slytherin was famous for. That’s why the symbol of Slytherin House is a serpent.” Harry’s mouth fell open. “Exactly,” said Ron. “And now the whole school’s going to think you’re his great-great-greatgreat-grandson or something —” “But I’m not,” said Harry, with a panic he couldn’t quite explain. “You’ll find that hard to prove,” said Hermione. “He lived about a thousand years ago; for all we know, you could be.” - Chamber of Secrets

And all those are credible informations to garner out of a textbook! Especially from Hogwarts, A History which would probably give a bit of detail about the founders and their Houses.

And then compare and contrast with Deathly Hallows...

‘And as for this book,’ said Hermione, ‘The Tales of Beedle the Bard… I’ve never even heard of them!’ ‘You’ve never heard of The Tales of Beedle the Bard?’ said Ron incredulously. ‘You’re kidding, right?’ ‘No, I’m not!’ said Hermione in surprise. ‘Do you know them, then?’ ‘Well, of course I do!’ Harry looked up, diverted. The circumstance of Ron having read a book that Hermione had not was unprecedented. Ron, however, looked bemused by their surprise. - Deathly Hallows

Ho ho ho ho ho ha ha ha ha ho ho Ron read a book??? Shock! Bewilderment! Unprecedent!! Imagine Ron being literate!! Ho ho ho ho ho!!!

... yeah, but...

‘A book?’ said Harry, as he took the rectangular parcel. ‘Bit of a departure from tradition, isn’t it?’ ‘This isn’t your average book,’ said Ron. ‘It’s pure gold: Twelve Fail-Safe Ways to Charm Witches. [...]’ - Deathly Hallows

Hm. I wonder if Hermione has read that book? Who am I kidding, of course she hasn't, otherwise she'd have FUCKING REALIZED SHE NEEDED TO BE MORE PROACTIVE IN PURSUING RON INSTEAD OF PLAYING TSUNDERE AND LAUNCHING CANARIES AT HIM.

Ahem, heh, yeah. That's, the state of the writing in Deathly Hallows. Years of being told how awesome Hermione is for reading books and regurgitating what she read (aka a thing tons of kids do in their youth because kids are curious little buggers and love sharing their discoveries with others) really took their toll.

#vivi answers #ron weasley #harry potter #hermione granger #ron weasley defense squad #ron weasley defence squad #writing #hp meta