do you ever watch something and think “this was written by a man”
i was up late night watching an episode of criminal minds fairly recently, for lack of a better thing to do. in the opening scene there are these two girls getting into their car in like a supermarket parking lot, not very well lit, in the middle of the night. another car drives up right behind theirs and won’t move out of the way so this one girl is like “im gonna go see what this guy’s problem is” and gets out of the car, in a poorly lit parking lot, to confront a man who was behaving aggressively to them.
so that was the precise moment i realised that episode was written by a man.
I was watching an episode of CSI where the entire reason they were going forward with the case was that ‘no woman would wear a bra this expensive without also wearing the matching panties’. What porn logic is this? I was, at that moment, wearing the exact bra the Jane Doe was wearing and fuck no I didn’t spring for the matching panties. Even if I did, I wouldn’t wear them as often as a bra. Panties I wash daily. Bras? Not so much.
But in CSI World, police resources were being mobilized on how irregular it would be for a woman to wear a $36 bra, but not caring about how she would look in just underthings.
Never mind not matching, but that they think $36 is expensive for a bra is probably the number one sign it was written by a man.
I just said the phrase “he doesn’t seem like the brightest knife in the toolshed” to myself which after a moment of thinking about it is a perfect mashup of “doesn’t seem like the brightest bulb in the box”/”he doesn’t seem like the sharpest knife in the drawer”/”he doesn’t seem like the sharpest tool in the shed” which are three completely independent sayings that all mean the exact same thing.
So what I’m getting at is I think despite the absolute literal nonsense the meaning still holds and I now plan to say that for everything.
I usually say “doesn’t seem like the shiniest rock in the garden” because the look on people’s faces is hilarious.
This is the best photo I can find of him, you guys. I’m sorry. You should all draw fanart of him because he’s the best. And you know I wouldn’t make such a claim without hard evidence to back it up.
He was born a slave on a Virginia plantation. The year was either 1748 or 1760. Seriously, fans of Hamilton think they have it hard with his age having two years of uncertainty. Try TWELVE.
The name Armistead came from his owner, William Armistead. William Armistead was apparently “a man of strong peculiarities, a gentleman of the old school, wearing knee buckles and retaining English tastes.” (source) Despite his English tastes, several of his sons fought in the Revolution; one of them was killed at the Battle of Brandywine.
We don’t know very much about Armistead’s youth, but I think it’s fair to say it sucked. However, we also know that he learned how to read and write at some point. This would come in handy later.
In 1781, the war came to Virginia. Cornwallis was wreaking havoc and Lafayette, outgunned outmanned etc., was desperately attempting to annoy him without being captured or crushed. It was apparently at this time (at the age of either 21 or 33) that James Armistead asked for and received permission to join Lafayette’s command.
Conditions for former slaves under the British were significantly better than under the Americans. (Witness, John Laurens’ extreme difficulties trying to get a black battalion approved by South Carolina’s legislature. Meanwhile, the British were offering emancipation to slaves who would fight for them. They were using them as cannon fodder and manual laborers, but still.)
James and Lafayette hit it off. Lafayette was an abolitionist, and he quickly realized that James had qualities (e.g. he was literate and quick-witted, but, being black, was also likely to be overlooked) that made him suitable for intelligence work. And, as he wrote to Hamilton around that time, “I shall work devilish hard for intelligences.” (source)
James crafted a plausible story for himself: that he had escaped a cruel owner and wanted to join the British for a shot at freedom. The first person he convinced of this story? BENEDICT FUCKING ARNOLD.
Let that sink in. Benedict Arnold, infamous turncoat, who knew exactly what to look for in a double agent because he had been one himself for two years. Who was only caught because John Andre got himself captured! And Arnold never suspected a thing. And I QUOTE, “Arnold was so convinced of Armistead’s pose as a runaway slave that he
used him to guide British troops through local roads. Armistead often
traveled between camps, spying on British officers, who spoke openly
about their strategies in front of him. Armistead documented this
information in written reports, delivered them to other American spies,
and then return to General Cornwallis’s camp.” (source)
Are you impressed yet? I know I am. IT GETS BETTER.
At this time, Lafayette’s forces were extremely underfunded and bedraggled, and the state of Virginia wasn’t exactly doing its part to supply food/ men (thanks, Governor of Virginia at the time Thomas Jefferson). There were times when it got precarious. Good intel helped Lafayette stay a step ahead.
After Arnold got reassigned James started spying on Cornwallis instead. You know where this is going, right? Cornwallis decided to encamp on this peninsula called Yorktown that is totally not famous at all and wait for the British fleet to come up and take him and his troops away. Lafayette encircled him by land.
This whole time, James was sending Lafayette intelligence about Cornwalls; his mood, his supply situation, morale in camp, the health of the men, how the fortifications were arranged. How did he send his messages, you ask? Dead drop? Smoke signals? Strategic petticoat patterns?
He. Fucking. Walked. From camp to camp. Time after fucking time. (source) How he talked the British into being okay with this, I have no idea, but he somehow did it. Presumably, it was his hard and incredibly risky work that let Lafayette know that Cornwallis was determined to wait for the British fleet to arrive (hint: it wasn’t coming) and that many of his men were sick with malaria (which Lafayette also caught because this part of Virginia was swampy af) and various other fevers. In other words, they were sitting ducks.
Furthermore, Armistead was the ONLY SUCCESSFUL SPY in Yorktown. All the others were either a) caught or b) unable to get good information. (source)
Seriously, if we were making Hamilton lines more accurate, we should change it to, “How did we know that this plan would work? We had a spy on the inside, that’s right JAMES ARMISTEAD!!!”
After the war James wound up a slave again, because life is incredibly unfair. There was a bill that allowed emancipation of slaves who served as soldiers during the Revolution. Can you believe the sheer levels of dickery it must have required for people to argue that this didn’t apply to James, because he had been a spy and not technically fought? He’d put his life on the line every damn day!
James petitioned for his freedom. Lafayette wrote him a letter of reference to support his case, because really, it was only fucking fair. He won his freedom, changed his name to James Armistead Lafayette, and settled down on a farm, where he had a giant family and died in 1830 (or 1832?) at the ripe old age of 70, or 72, or 82, or 84.
OH WAIT I ALMOST FORGOT THE CUTEST PART, although this story is apocryphal and I can’t find a good source. Lafayette returned to the U.S. in 1824 as an old man to tour around, visit old buddies like wacky ol’ TJeff, preside over shit being named after him, and generally be applauded and gushed over and adored from all sides. Apparently he was sitting in a carriage, in the middle of a parade in his honor, when he spots James in the crowd and LEAPS out of the carriage and hauls the guy into a bear hug. Which, okay, maybe it never happened, but my heart wants to believe it’s true.
In conclusion:
1. James Armistead Lafayette was an utter badass
2. Lafayette could have been captured playing cat-and-mouse with Cornwallis in Virginia without him.
3. The Patriots might not have recognized Yorktown for the golden opportunity it was without him
4. The Battle of Yorktown could have been lost without him.
5. Tell your friends, tell your family.
6. If he’s not in Turn eventually I will lose my shit.
7. You should all write fic and draw art about him and then tag me in it so I can reblog it
If writers took every bit of writing advice that was in the format ‘Don’t use X part of the English language’, all English fiction would read like Spot the dog
Haha okay, the teacher I have for YA Lit is amazing. I had her for Sci-Fi Fiction before. But the thing is she was given this class five days before it started since she’s taking over for another teacher.
If they’re going to reference the comic books in later movies regarding Scarlet Vision, I kinda hope it’s that time Wanda punched a girl in the face shouting ‘nobody gives my husband a lap dance except me!’ whilst Vision looked on scandalised.
do you ever just kinda wonder what your selling point as a human being or friend is? like, what was the point at which people were like: hey, I’ll keep this human
do you have feelings about hozier/take me to church/from eden/his whole deal??
Here’s what I wrote about Hozier in 2014
Hozier’s music is this masochistic gospel blues offering to some profane woman-god of whiskey and rough love who probably blows cigarette smoke in the shape of the snake who tempted Eve and I am so here for it.
I essentially stand by it. If we’re going to do the “my significant other is my religion” thing, I want it to be Hozier. He like…gives it a nuance and depth I have hitherto not seen.
From Eden is EXCELLENT and I am very picky about my ficticious depictions of Satan. From Eden is kind of like…the Satan in all of us? The Satan washed up on your front doorstep at 2 am hurting from his own mistakes but not yet ready to ask for forgiveness Like:
Honey, you’re familiar like my mirror years ago Idealism sits in prison, chivalry fell on its sword Innocence died screaming, honey, ask me I should know I slithered here from Eden just to sit outside your door
Just putting this out there cause I’ve had about twenty asks calling me a ‘total fucking weirdo’ a ‘deluded fangirl’ and a ‘brainless tumblerina’ for shipping Vision and Wanda:
PLEASE IMAGINE THE FIRST TIME AN ALIEN HAS ONE OF THEIR HUMAN FRIENDS DIE
‘so hey, that was a great funeral, cool outfits, always glad to learn more about your culture and stuff. So, when is she coming back?’
‘She- she’s not coming back’
‘Yeah, not as Megan, but when is her replacement coming back?’
‘We’re- not hiring anyone new for a couple weeks???’
‘no no no, you’re not getting what I’m saying- I want to ask her about that book she lent me- can I keep it for another week or two, or does her new version want it back?’
The humans stare at the alien and just. slowly start to figure out what the alien is saying. The alien shuffles nervously, their six spindly legs making a skritching noise that echoes in the cold chapel. Finally, the kindest of the humans takes the alien aside and-
‘hey. so. Us humans don’t come back when we die. Not like you do.’
‘what? No, but you clearly talk about reincarnation, and-’
‘Those are just stories, Six. When humans die, we’re gone. We don’t come back.’
The alien laughs ‘No, see, cuz that would mean that- that would mean. That Megan- Megan is-’ The alien cuts off the hissing noise that is their equivalent of a sob. ‘I have to go.’
The alien spends a week in their spaceship, the only place they can send communication to their Mother. When they come back, their carapace is a glistening new shade of red, and they’ve ended up as a different gender. When the lab adviser asks them how they are feeling about Megan-
‘Megan? Oh, yes, my previous version was very fond of Megan.’ The alien cocks their head, like a particularly thoughtful bird. ‘I suppose that I regret her loss. She was a valuable member of the team.’
The lab adviser lets this be- they are aliens after all. But later, when lab hours are done, the adviser notices Six double and triple-checking all the lab equipment, especially- well. The accident that took Megan will never happen again.
The book is never returned.
Now imagine the flip side: Sevan finds out his human friend is due to have a baby in six months. Six months! He asks, and finds that no, there’s no way to delay a human birth. In six months, a new version of his friend will emerge. Will they still like space operas? What about visiting that smoothie place in quadrant 6? Will they even still want to be friends?
His friend asks him to be visit the baby, after it’s born. Of course, of course he will. It’s the least he can do. There’s always that vulnerable phase after birth when you haven’t got the hang of the new motor controls, and everyone needs a helping palp for the first few months.
The night he hears that the new baby has been born, he wails quietly and recites the qualities of his friend that he will miss the most.
Three days later, he gathers his resolve and knocks on the hatch of his friend’s place. Strangely, the access panel hasn’t been lowered - rude. He’ll make sure that’s one of the first things changed. His friends partner opens the door and lets him in and there - there is his friend,looking tired but well, a miniature copy of herself held in her arms. Imagine his joy when he finds out that not only will he get to spend longer with his current friend, but there will be another friend to get to know!
ah yes they call me “No Queue” Jones because I post everything I reblog at once with no breaks in between and then vanish into the night for extended periods of inactivity
can i just give a special shoutout to all the fedex, UPS, and mail delivery people because they work hard as fuck especially this time of year like my family had a combined total of like 30 different packages in the past few weeks and the delivery people really did #that
imagine being a han/leia shipper in 1983 and you’ve spent three years hearing from the luke/leia shippers how there’s no chance of han/leia happening because han’s probably dead now and besides the empire strikes back literally ended with luke and leia holding each other and staring into deep space so like obviously you’re an idiot for shipping han/leia and you need to get with the winning team… and then imagine going into that movie… and walking out of that movie… imagine that level of schadenfreude and personal satisfaction
not to sound too millennial here but it annoys me so much when I’m at a restaurant and someone I’m with will complain about the service being slow like buddy pal it’s fine it’s not that important
You didn’t waited 40 minutes for a dinner before haven’t you?
i have but i also have, like, real problems
I waited well over an hour for food once at IHOP, because it kept coming out inedible.
We finally asked what was going on, and it turns out that the ONLY cook had been working for 36 hours straight with only a short nap.
I ordered the easiest thing to make, tipped the waitress heavily, and sent her back to the cook with a $10 tip for them, too, AFTER watching the 24-hour restaurant close the doors so that they could send the cook home for some rest.
Yeah, I’ve waited 40 minutes for my dinner, and I didn’t ask for a discount, we tipped VERY well, and sent the cook our best wishes.
If something goes wrong with your restaurant experience, consider that there are real people back there, working under god knows what conditions.
do older generations not get fatalistic humor?? like the other day my friend’s parents were hanging around and we were joking and i was like “well no matter what i can always fling myself off the nearest cliff” and they didn’t laugh then later the mom pulled me aside and was like “maybe you should get some help, sweetie” like stfu?? help? in this economy? i don’t think so, debra
I honestly don’t think they get it as a coping mechanism, they think it’s a cry for help rather than actually helping.
i’d even say it’s past just coping and is also now a category of Stuff Kids Got Used To When No One Was Looking; not everyone using that humor is even covering up something bigger, we just stopped thinking fatalistic = taboo/unspeakable somewhere along the line, and most parents don’t seem to know why or how ~
My boss opened a door and missed me by inches, he said “whoops, almost killed you there!” My result of “Oh, if only.” Led to an awkward end of shift debrief.
This generation shares the same humor as the goddamn Addams Family and the previous generation is the White Sixties Family™ that lives next door and runs away screaming at the end of the episode
When the previous mentality was “suffer through work/marriage then retire” why is it a surprise the next stage is “i might as well end the suffering now”
Interesting fact: the more fucked up the person from a previous generation you’re talking to is, the more likely they are to get this kind of humor. My mother taught me all the fatalistic humor I know, and she needs all the therapy. My dad is only slightly less prone to it (he’s a nicer person than my mom or me).
So…fatalistic humor plays well with depression and trauma, which says some real interesting shit about Kids These Days.
A Christmas Carol is so wild to me because it takes not one, not two, but like four fucking ghosts to convince this dude not to be the biggest douche in the universe. Like, four fucking ghosts came back from the dead, rose from the Goddamn grave to be like, “I came back from the dead because you need to quit your shit.” Fuck. How big of an asshole do you have to be to have four fucking ghosts tell you to stop?
alright buckle up motherfuckers, i’m about to school y’all about this wonderful show called Leverage.
let’s start with the premise: they’re a bunch of criminals who come together to work as a team and to “pick up where the law leaves off.” aka: they do illegal shit to legally take out the bad guys, i.e. framing/ruining the reputation of/revealing actual law-breaking by embezzling rich politicians, dirty cops, corporations doing secret shit on the down-low, etc.
each episode is a different bad guy they need to take down for doing something terrible, and each episode they come up with a different scheme to take them out. the team consists of: the hacker, the hitter, the grifter, the thief, and the mastermind behind all their plots. they’re all thieves at one point or another, they all grift, and they all contribute to the plan, but these are their Roles. i’ll go more in-depth on the characters in a sec.
now, i know what you’re thinking already: “wow bruh this show must be edgy af, being about actual criminals doing super illegal shit???” bUT NO. THIS SHOW COULD HAVE BEEN SO DARK BASED ON THE CONCEPT, BUT IT’S LITERALLY THE NICEST, MOST ENJOYABLE SHOW EVER.
it’s also SERIOUSLY unproblematic????? like to unrealistic levels. like Nate’s alcoholism is treated with respect and not just something he “gets over,” but despite his issues, he’s held accountable for when he’s a dick, Parker is pretty clearly neurodivergent and she’s never!! forced to be anything else!!!! anyway i could go on and on.
he’s the mastermind, he’s brilliant and the genius behind each of their convoluted plans. he’s a jerk sometimes, and grouchy, but he’s got good reason, and he NEVER crosses over into “angsty white man justifies his assholery because of his Issues.” he used to work for an insurance company tracking down criminals and thieves before A Thing happened and he became the Dad of a group of them. he makes bad life choices, so i relate. also his son died and he has a rad ex-wife and he struggles with alcoholism. we love him.
she’s the grifter. she’s a great actress but only when she’s breaking the law it’s a running gag. she’s terrible on an actual stage l m a o. she’s the Mom of the group, and she and Nate are lowkey flirting the entire show. she tells it like it is, but is v compassionate. sassy af. british af. would probably console you about your husband leaving you before stealing your rare artifacts. high-class which shows in the fact that she was primarily an art thief before joining the team. i wouldn’t trust her with my jewelry, but i’d tell her all my secrets, and tbh that’s the best summary of her character that you’ll get.
hooooooooooo boy. where do i begin to describe Eliot Spencer? wel, for starters, he’s the “hitter” of the group aka he beats people up when they can’t sneak their way in or out of a place. or when things go wrong. he’s super fucking badass oh my god??? like i’m pretty sure there’s maybe only one or two times in the ENTIRE. SHOW. that he can’t win a fight?? he also has a Super Secret Dark Past bc he used to be a hitman for hire, which he regrets deeply and is happy to have changed bUT AGAIN!! IT’S NOT A WHITE MALE ANGST THING. he isn’t obsessed with attoning for his actions and his scenes aren’t eaten up with Angst and Melodrama. he also has anger issues, but again, it’s not the same stereotype that you’re used to. he controls it, and he never takes it on on anybody who doesn’t deserve it (aka the bad guys). he gets around with women but he’s not sexist?? he cares about his partners.
also he’s a hardcore chef and will Fite You about food. anyway Eliot is basically the Broody White Man With Dark Past trope turned on it’s head. he’s lovable and sarcastic and could kill a man but would prefer to make you an Omelette Du Fromage or some shit.
this is my baby. he’s a nerd and a geek and I Would Die For Him. he’s basically everything that’s good and pure in the world. the epitome of a cinnamon roll. he’s sweet and gentle and wouldn’t hurt a fly–unless that fly is a corrupt ceo personally doing dirty business, in which case that motherfucker is going down with the help of his epic hacking skills. btw did i mention he’s the hacker? yeah. he’s super fucking smart and his sense of humor could rival the sahara desert in dryness. he always makes star trek references and he has a gr8 fashion style and he irritates Eliot to no end, lmao. #platoniclifepartners, tbh. did i mention he’s the sweetest person ever? no? he is.
she’s the thief, and predictably, she loves money and expensive things. tbh she’d probably stab you faster than anybody else on the team would (and has) but also she is smol and needs to be protected. she’s a killer rabbit. she’s an oddball and in the beginning, most of the others don’t know what to make of her, but they grow used to her. she’s nd af, probably autistic, and Does Not Understand Socialization. same, Parker, same. guess what? she’s never forced into acting like somebody she’s not!! when she has to be the grifter for the con job and interact with people, she’s patiently coached by Sophie, who never belittles or mocks her, and explains it in ways she can understand. she’s weird and i love her.
did i mention how unproblematic this show is? i did? well too fucking bad because i’m gonna say it again: this show is so unproblematic. like what i already said with Nate’s addiction and Parker’s neurodivergence, but wAIT! THERE’S MORE.
Eliot hates guns–detests them–and won’t use them, he’s like constantly grabbing the mooks’ guns and unloading them and tossing them somewhere and it’s basically a huge trigger for him. and it’s always respected. also there’s scenes where like in the middle of a job Parker has to change into a costume and neither of men who are attracted to her–Eliot and Hardison–sneak a peak at her. they both look away during that shit and there is like, never any gross sexist jokes about it. or other things. i love it. also any romantic relationship that develops takes season of growth and shit. there’s nothing particularly Gay, but while heterosexual, it’s not Het.
the recurring antagonist is played by Mark Sheppard, a character called Sterling, who is basically a lawful good Crowley.
also one time they stole an entire country.
Leverage is fucking rad, and the concept is amazing and it coulda been so edgy and shit, but it’s literally so pure and sweet and friggin hilarious and about a bunch of people becoming a family and you need to watch it, my friend. now.
like immediately go google a page to watch it i’m not fucking kidding do it.
I have these Native American reenactments in the summer, okay. We dress in authentic Native garb and go teach about our culture and whatnot at historical events. There’s this one on a weekend that housed all reenactors from Ancient Greece to World War II–you can walk through a timeline of living history. It’s cool.
So there are these guys in a tent on the far hill called the Scottish Highlanders. They bring about two to five people to their thing per year. They do all the good medieval Scottish jazz. Kilts, weapons, challenging you to fights.
But theres this one guy that is there every time. I always go visit to hear him give in depth talks about Scottish Reavers and their malitia and weaponry and stuff. He’s fun, so I go talk to him and he’s asking about what school I’m going to, what I want to do, etc.
So I tell him I want to be a history teacher and I like to write. He asks me if I have anything published, and I say no, thinking he means an actual book. But he waves me off and asks, “No, online. Have you ever heard of Fanfiction.net?”
Let me explain a thing. This guy. Is well over six feet. His biceps are bigger than my head, he’s about 45 years old, he has the thickest Scottish accent you’ve ever witnessed, he can wave two axes around like nobody’s business, he usually resolves friendly arguments with full on battle in armor with real weaponry with the scars to prove it, and he kind of has a biker gang.
And this guy starts telling me about the 700 page Doctor Who fanfiction that he’s been writing for six years and still running.
Shamelessly continues to explain how he gets together with his badass biker buddies and they ride to his house with bottles of Jack Daniels and talk about the next fanfiction that they’re going to write together. (More Doctor Who, Xena Warrior Princess, Agents of Shield, Lord of the Rings…) They dare each other to write crossovers for interesting character interaction. This guy raves with excitement over character development and analysis.
I cried.
By the way
Here he is. Mike. In his Scottish glory.
Here he is with his buddy, Bear.
Here he is with his buddy Bear and me.
And here he is holding an ax to my throat.
I LOVE THIS. The perils of a site like Tumblr which is dominated by people under 30 (not on my dash, though, but that’s what demographics insist is true) is they genuinely don’t think anyone older has any interests in common with them. I feel like Livejournal was more varied in this regard, though again, my flist on LJ had all ages on it, so maybe it was just me. The only over 40s they know are the adults in positions of authority like parents and teachers, and surely Mom and Mr. W the Chem teacher have never heard of fan fiction or have the least interest in anything on the interwebs. A kid at work (I work at a university) who I jokingly called a meme lord once told me I needed to stop learning such things from my kid – who is 11 and basically uses the internet to watch Minecraft videos on YouTube, but of course she must be the one teaching me all these modernfangled intertoob things!
I admit though that I have fallen into the stereotype that fandom is all women, because that’s been my experience by far; I think the number of male-identified people I’ve come across in my various fandoms wouldn’t pass the single digits. But that’s probably due to the nature of my reading and the way I curate my dash. Where’s a big ol’ 40 something biker dude who writes Stucky?? Point him out to me and I’ll add him to my dash!
Mike the Doctor Who Scottish badass fills me with hope and love. <3
okay but what’s his username I want to read a 700 page Doctor Who fan fiction
Same here WHERE CAN I FIND THAT FANFIC
Guys please if you want the link, just message me or look back in the notes: I’ve posted it as a reply and I’ve reblogged it onto my blog with the link about four times. Here it is again, because Mike deserves all the love. Make sure to review his stuff!!
I accidentally got a fact wrong. He’s still working on his Doctor Who one. The long one he was talking about was actually his Xena Warrior Princess/Lord of the Rings crossover. I got them mixed up. But he writes beautifully! Here is the link to his ff net page!
Okay, so now you've got me thinking about Vision's conversation with the rabbi and whether he counts as a creation of God, and so now I have to ask- I feel like the closest analogue to Vision in Judaism would be a golem? Like, he doesn't fit all the criteria for one but I feel like he's closer to being a golem than to being anything else
YEAH OKAY SAME.
And like I am so curious about whether Vision would even qualify to convert, according to Judaic law. I mean, okay, by and large I think Vision would work as a golem, with the Mind Stone in place of the shem (although admittedly his creation is a joint effort between Ultron and Tony Stark, so he’s half the direct creation of man and half the creation of a creation of man), but he does break the classic rule of being unable to speak, and he is sentient, which is generally a…questionable thing with regard to golems. Because, like, the question of the line of life, and creation thereof. But the Golem of Prague has some conflicting narratives that I suppose could allow some flexibility there maybe? MY POINT IS that the Vision probably qualifies as a golem, but I don’t think most golems are self-aware enough to attempt to convert formally to Judaism, so??? It’s not like I have any precedent to work with here.
There WAS a really solid post about this EXACT thing, but because I’m a GODDAMN IDIOT I forgot to reblog it and can’t find it again. So if someone finds that for me and/or some other information about the exact logistics of a high-tech golem converting to Judaism and an ex-unknowing-weapon-of-Nazis rejoining the faith (given that Wanda is genuinely penitent and has pretty much been used, I feel like that might be a more easily ameliorated situation than otherwise), HIT ME UP. Or, like, ask your neighborhood rabbi, because I live in a town too tiny to have a synagogue with a full-time rabbi and therefore I have never met them.
So @littlestartopaz sent me this post and a request for Vision/Wanda and I fucking love this ship and also Jewish!Wanda is my jam (LITERALLY WHO AM I KIDDING, RELIGIOUS SUPERHEROES ARE MY JAM) so I did it.
Okay also Topaz I know you sent me this prompt a
while ago but I wanted to be able to post it for the first night of Hanukkah so
I held onto it for a few days. And it’s now officially after sundown where I am, so Happy
Hanukkah, everyone!
Wanda had set up a small table in the empty hall outside of Pietro’s
room, where she could see him through the wall of windows without being kicked
out for bringing fire into the medical wing.
He was still asleep, even months after Sokovia—she’d seen him in this
sort of healing coma before, but never for so long. The external damage was healed, but his body
was still rebuilding fragile nerves and blood vessels and ruined organ tissue. The doctors said that he’d shut down every
system to preserve what he could after taking those bullets to save Hawkeye,
and she was glad for that, glad that, when he woke up, he would be her brother
again. She could stand any wait.
Or at least that’s what she told herself when she came down to sit with
him.
Wanda smoothed a blue cloth, fringed and embroidered with a white star,
over the table she’d stolen from the lab.
The steady beeping of the heart monitor inside the room was reassuring,
but she missed hearing Pietro rattle around near her as she went through these
motions. The first year they had fine
things, a soft cloth and matching candles and all, and he was comatose.
“Wanda?” a tentative voice behind her asked, and she jumped so hard the
table rattled. “I’m sorry,” Vision said
as she whirled on her heel. He was
dressed in civilian clothes, plain and disingenuous against his bright
synthskin, and he looked apologetic, as he always did when he took her by
surprise. He moved as quietly as a ghost
most of the time and the Mind Gem let him shield his mind so tightly it was as
if he wasn’t there at all, and Wanda was unused to being startled. “I was looking for you, and this was the last
place I could think of. Don’t you
usually visit your brother during the morning?”
i like in hamilton how they tell us that the islanders all chipped in to make sure that hamilton could go to the mainland and Make Something Of Himself like HE IS TOO TALENTED TO REMAIN HERE
but then much later its like… “he used to give 6 hour long speeches” and ur like… ok… sure. “would you like to donate to a good cause ma’am” “what cause” “sending alexander hamilton to another continent” “heres my life savings”
These are the words written on a post-it (a human invention) in Persephone’s bedroom. They’re written in what she fondly calls New English, aka the English that her mother still doesn’t know, even after all these years.
Every morning, when she wakes, she sees this post-it stuck onto the stone wall and makes herself read it out loud.
“Stop checking on him,” she says, arms wrapped tight around her knees. “He doesn’t miss you.” The words bring the familiar sting of pain, the familiar tightness in her chest, the accompanying breathlessness. There’s still a part of her that rebels at the thought, that clings to what he said before and not after.
She thinks she might have been happier loving a mortal, which is so in fashion these days that her mother is gallivanting about Earth like she hadn’t spent centuries chastising Persephone for the same. If she loved a mortal, she could bind them in ways that it’s impossible to bind a god.
She gets up and gets ready for her day. Being an immortal means that she can’t just spend all day in bed. That path leads to centuries of apathy and she’s still young. So very, very young.
“Go back to Olympus. I should have known better than to let a child into my kingdom.”
There was no “letting” about it. She’d been younger still and in chains and in captivity and in love. She’d beguiled and coerced so that he’d take her with him, made him free her.
She’d thought she was shedding her chains, choosing new ones that better suited her, but she didn’t see the way her discarded shackles slipped onto him. She didn’t see what a burden she was, what a burden she would become to him, how limiting, how heavy, how stupid.
It’s been five years now and she’s still counting seasons like she has a chance of being let back in. Summer and winter, summer and winter, summer and winter, ad nauseum. Her mother had said that she’d stick to the cycle, that the Earth actually benefited from winter, but Persephone sees the way the summers are growing longer and hotter, the way the winters are short but so sharp she could cut her teeth on them.
Spring? She stopped that a long time ago. The melting of winter is good enough for mortals and gods alike. They don’t notice and, therefore, they don’t ask.
“When you’re depressed (or anxious, or triggered), staying in all weekend, not answering the phone, binge-watching TV, and not getting dressed sounds great. It might even sound like “self-care.” And aspects of it can be self-care. But self-care is not just about soothing yourself in the moment, it’s about setting up the supports and structures that let you be okay enough in your day-to-day life. So while depression says “let’s watch Buffy instead of doing the laundry” the reality is that tomorrow you’re going to wake up to clothes everywhere, nothing clean, and one more thing you haven’t done–which will add to the guilt and shame that seem to come hand-in-hand with depression.
On the other hand, depression-challenging behaviours are hard and not fun in the moment, but set you up to a) have small victories (SO important when dealing with mental health issues), b) have some structure and routine in your life, and c) set up the support and structure to let you deal with the root of your issues or cope with issues that aren’t going away anytime soon.”—
yes yes yes!!!! omg!!!! i feel like i gave into this “self care dont do anything” culture so much that i didnt realize how damaging it is. sometimes self care is doing what’s best for yourself in the future, not just in the moment.
*valid does not mean healthy, or good, or to be privileged above common sense and kindness
A distinction for anyone who is young and hasn’t figured this out yet:
You are allowed to have whatever emotions you want. No one can control your emotions. Emotions are healthy responses to things.
You are not allowed to have behaviors that are harmful just because you have certain emotions. Your behaviors are what you can control, and they are far easier to control than your emotions.
You can be jealous about someone or their talents until you turn green, but it is harmful to yourself and to that person if you try to sabotage them because of it. You can be so angry you can literally feel your temperature rise, but this does not give you permission to rage at others.
Your emotions are valid. They are always valid. You are a person of value. However, you behaviors are not always justified just because of those emotions. You may not be able to control you emotions, but you can certainly control your behaviors.
and this one, i beg you to learn before you become right-wing fundamentalists: just because something gives you revulsion feelings does not mean it’s morally wrong.
you may be sex-repulsed; that doesn’t mean sex is dirty and bad. maybe you were bullied by teenage girls; that doesn’t mean teenage girls are a force of evil. perhaps a villain in a work of fiction reminds you of someone who abused you; that doesn’t mean people who enjoy that character or that fiction are abusive. your feelings about those things are absolutely valid, and it’s not right for people to tell you you shouldn’t feel that way. but it’s also not right for you to act out against others based on those feelings.
that instinct to generalize served our species well when we were hunter-gatherers living in small bands in a hostile wilderness. you nibble a delicious-looking berry, you throw up, you know that berry is BAD and you make the yuck face whenever you see it so the other hominids know it’s a bad one. but in the modern world, in the information age, there are so many complex things you might encounter, you’re going to have badfeels about a lot of things that aren’t actually across-the-board bad.
you need to not be ruled by your hominid yuckberry instinct. that’s where bigotry comes from.
You need to not be ruled by your hominid yuckberry instinct. That’s where bigotry comes from.
This is a beautifully succinct summary. Thank you very much.
Headcanon that an outraged 6-year-old Charlie Weasley writes to an elderly Newt Scamander wanting to know why Gringotts keeps a dragon locked up underground and begging him to fix it. Newt writes back saying that sadly he’s been fighting that fight for years and no one ever wants to listen to him because the powerful families whose money is being kept safe by the dragon always shut him down, and that Charlie is the first person he’s heard of who’s as angry as he is about it. Charlie decides that day to dedicate his life to finding out everything he can about dragons so that one day he can free the poor Gringotts dragon. After the war, when they hear that Harry, Ron and Hermione freed the dragon, they celebrate and immediately begin petitioning to have it made illegal to imprison dragons so that nothing like that ever happens again. It’s only when Hermione becomes Minister that it’s finally signed into law.
This is the best Harry Potter headcanon I’ve ever seen
