The A in LGBTQIA+ doesn't stand for aspec because they're not repressed!
(please read the disclaimer at the end of this post)
Ummm, excuse me? Would you mind telling me what your definition of repression is, then?
Because I feel repressed when a doctor asks me about my sex life, and if I say I have none, it gets marked down as a symptom without being asked if I suffer from it.
I feel repressed when my gyn tells me I can't get a hysterectomy yet despite losing so much blood on every period that I need to take iron supplements all the time, because I could change my mind about not wanting children (which is a whole other post, I know, but it's most likely linked to sex).
I feel repressed if I can't use dating apps or platforms because my sexuality doesn't even exist there, and the one time I tried, I got called names because I didn't want to meet for because it was clear where this date would go, despite my explicit "what I'm looking for".
I feel repressed when I think about how recently a paragraph was finally abolished in my country that considered sex a vital part of a marriage, basically entitling the spouses to having sex with their partner (both gender neutral, because entitling people to having sex with somebody else by law is wrong. It's basically a rape permission).
I feel repressed when I can't watch any film or show without it being about love and/or sex, no matter if it fits the narrative and furthers the plot.
I feel repressed when I plot my own stories and automatically put a romantic couple in there as main characters, even though I have no idea why this would be important for the plot. Not even my own stories, my own thoughts are mine.
I felt repressed when I was asked accusingly in a relationship if I wasn't missing something before I even knew asexuality as a spectrum was a thing, and having to lie about this being a side effect of my medication instead of genuinely not feeling attracted to someone in this way.
I feel repressed when I can't tell people I'm not sexually attracted to them because they will take this personally no matter how well I explain myself.
I feel repressed when everywhere I look there's advertising relying on naked skin, suggestive posing and objectification. Why are expensive cars still presented by women considered beautiful and tempting? It's not like that's necessary to convince people of spending so much money on a thing that gets you from A to B. Couches with women in smart dresses and high heels. That's not what a normal person looks like on a couch. But the worst is a truck in the town where I live: it's from a small fruit and vegetable stand, so whenever I see it, it comes from the warehouse, delivering groceries. On it is a woman clad in very little, presenting fruit. I'm sorry, but why? Does a misogynistic picture convince you of the necessity to avoid scurvy?
I feel repressed when I tell people and get the answer "you just haven't found the right person yet", because there are two possible assumptions from that point: I'm either not trying hard enough (so it's basically my own fault) or something about me is not right, appalling even (which circles back to I'm not trying hard enough or frames me as a victim of my genetics, upbringing or circumstances to be pitied).
Do not tell me how I feel. Do not try to tell me everything is fine and I shouldn't complain or ask for acknowledgement if everywhere I look, I'm reminded of how odd, how weird and how not normal I am. How much it inconveniences you to even acknowledge my existence, let alone respect any of my traits, views and choices.
And while I can only write from my own asexual point of view, I wrote this with all kinds of flavours of aspec in mind, so I'm explicitly including aromantics, aroace people and every shade of the spectrum in this. Not all my examples may apply to you, but I hope you can find something to relate to.
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Things I hate/dislike about Fanon-Damian Wayne
AKA me just bitching about the various icks of Damian portrayals in fanon that range from weirdly racist things to a blatant misunderstanding of the core character.
Whitewashing - not only in art, but in descriptions; making Damian pale or white, an "exact copy of Bruce" and having blue eyes. He'll share features with Bruce of course, but it's rare I see anyone describe him with traits from Talia or Ras or Melisande. Y'know he's still half Arab/Chinese despite Bruce being white. He should have, at the very least, a shade of brown skin and non-blue eyes.
Describing Damian like an animal (hissing, biting, clawing), calling him feral or rabid - I already have a post about how its pretty racist to constantly describe a poc character like this, so I won't go any further here. Also, rabid, really? Anyone who calls Damian that will die by my hand because it's so genuinely ignorant that I just can't excuse it.
Overuse of terms like "Blood Son", gremlin, "Demon Spawn", "Satan" - these spawned completely in fandom and its gotten to the point that I will immediately click off something if its included. Just stop using these as shorthand to describe him or joke about him. Come up with something else, or maybe just don't include Damian in a fic if he's only there to get made fun of.
Connected to the "Blood Son" term, making Damian obsessed with his biological status as Bruce's child and making him demean his adopted siblings/other adopted characters - he's only had a couple instances of this in canon comics. Once, in his introduction in the fight with Tim written by Grant Morrison when his character was still being fleshed out. Again, in a fight with Tim in Red Robin when Damian is mostly being written as an antagonist and not a character of his own. It frustrates me to no end when this is brought up because Damian's status with being Bruce's son has nothing to do with biological connection or genetics. It has everything to do with just being a son of a father that doesn't put any effort to knowing you and seeing him have deep connections to other kids that you have been raised to see as competition, not family.
Constantly having him carry around a sword/katana - this does happen in some comics, but its really not the main weapon he uses as Robin. A good majority of his time as Robin he just used the standard stuff (batarangs, grapple etc). The really aggravating part is when fics insinuate that he'd carry one around in public or in school.
Making Bruce's half of the family his good white saviors, while also making the al Ghuls evil abusers - if you demonize Talia and then prop up Bruce as a good dad who's done nothing wrong to Damian then I'm going to assume that you don't read comics and you don't have a good understanding of Damian's relationship with his parents. If you make Dick or Jason the good protective big brothers while putting down Talia or Ras or Mara, again, I'm going to assume the worst. Dick did not like Damian when they first met. Tim spent most of their time together as Red Robin/Robin hating him. Jason shot Damian point blank in the chest the first meeting they had, and then continued to threaten his life. Damian has never had a great relationship with anyone in the batfamily when he first appeared. Yes, not even Stephanie or Cassandra or Duke. With everyone, it took time for him to be tolerated much less liked or understood. Making them the ones who understood him and babied him from the start ruins his character development and his relationships with them. Only if you're writing an au where Damian is raised by Bruce, then it's excusable but still not the least bit right when handling the al Ghuls.
Making Damian ignorant or plain stupid, especially when comes to white American concepts - Damian is insanely smart. He knows what riddles are. He knows what metaphors are. He knows that Gotham is a city in New Jersey in America, and that American concepts like school clubs and sports teams and cliques and dances exist. Sometimes it sounds you're making Damian intentionally an idiot when you imply he doesn't know what a video game or a tv show is. Just because he grew up sheltered does not mean he's fucking blind. He's a kid who grew up Middle Eastern, not in another planet.
nitpick but Damian calling Bruce "baba" at every turn or throwing in "habibi" when you write ship content - I am not Arabic, but i'd feel the same kind of annoyance if someone wrote Damian calling Bruce "papa" or "padre" all the time, or randomly listing off Spanish endearments in ship fics. In moderation, it can be cute and appreciative. But sometimes it reads like you just discovered a new funny word and you're throwing it around for no reason.
Insisting that Damian should have learned morality or been punished severely by any of the bats when he first showed up - I must stress that none of them did jack shit to teach Damian any kind of morality when he appeared. Bruce met him, yelled at him, fucked off for a mission, came back and then promptly left him behind with Talia before they were presumed dead by explosion. Then Bruce straight up died. Bruce had very little to do with Damian in the early era. Dick, also, didn't really do anything in terms of actually sitting Damian down and explaining the Bat code or just general "killing=bad". He taught Damian to be Robin, and by that process, gradually got through to him about being a hero and a good person. You cannot expect good behavior from a child from the get-go if you've done nothing to teach that child. On that matter then, implying that Damian should have been kicked out of the house or beaten up on behalf of Tim as a form of punishment or a "teaching moment" is genuinely insane. You're going to abuse the already abused ten year old because he hurt your favorite character? Really? You're truly the pinnacle of an adult figure that he should respect /s.
Being annoying about Damian's attitude towards other characters - he's sarcastic and rude on purpose. It's pretty clear from the start to Damian that no one likes him, so he chooses to not like them back. If you cry about him calling Tim names, then I honestly think you don't have a high opinion of Tim at all if you think a seventeen/eighteen year old teenager would be hurt or psychologically scarred by a ten year old calling him a mean name.
Exaggerating Damian's violence and making people terrified of him - calling his fights with Tim "attempted murder" both undermines what murder actually is and undermines Tim's skill levels. The cutting the line incident for example. Obviously the action of cutting it was dangerous, but if you genuinely believe that Tim would have died from it or that he would regard it with any PTSD-level importance is (imo) kind of stupid. We always hear about the actions Damian takes around other characters, but never the canon reaction. In the 2009-2011 era, Tim was angry and annoyed about Damian. Whenever Damian did anything to him, he fought back. He would shoot back remarks, land a blow. Tim wasn't scared of Damian. They didn't even live together long enough for Tim to feel "unsafe in his own home." The second Damian became Robin, Tim left. They never lived in the same house since then, until the reboot, and even then Tim has been pretty independent and Damian has been away from Gotham more often than in it. Same deal applies to Dick and Steph and Jason and Cass, they never took Damian's actions lying down. He's just a mild annoyance to them. In fact, Damian doesn't attack them in their sleep. He doesn't try to kill them every chance he gets. He doesn't plot their demise. Every instance of Damian fighting someone in the family has either been; protective impulse, a reaction to a fight they instigated, or a sparring-type situation where neither of them are taking things seriously.
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Good People - Part II: Do Unto Others (Platonic)
Part 1 is here!
NOTE: Once again, this series (maybe? if people like it and their dynamic?) will be shorter pieces around certain scenes rather than full episodes. Kind of like summaries with specific lil bits with the main focus being Lucy and Y/N's friendship. Enjoy!
Chapter Summary: You take Lucy to Filly. A gunfight ensues. Lucy surprises you with loyalty.
"I thought I'd have to marry my Cousin," Lucy tells you as you both start to leave the desert and enter a forest area.
"...Uh...Ok?" you say, not really sure how to react to the information your new friend has just given you.
"Is that not...is that now how things are done up here? What about the survival of the Human Race?"
You snort, helping her over a log, "Don't think that's the thing on a lot of people's minds."
"How so?" she asks, genuinley confused.
"More so just concerned about the whole, survival of the self, type thing."
"That's understandable. Hey, can I ask you something?"
"Shoot."
"I won't."
"No, I meant like, ask me. 'Sure, go ahead.'"
"Oh. Sorry. Still getting used to the lingo out here."
You snort again, "ain't too much to learn. And, you're fine, wasn't the worse miscommunication."
She nods, smile on her face, "okey dokey."
You keep walking on, passing two people. You move out of their way, but Lucy gives them a friendly greeting. Nothing comes of it, but you still find yourself leaning in close to her - and accidentally making her jump as she didn't see that you had stopped - and saying to her, "try not to do that in general when out, ok? In towns? Maybe, especially with your quest. But out here," you move your finger in a circular motion, "don't."
"Can I ask why? Nothing bad happened," you partly pity and find her innocence kind of endearing.
"Just...this time it didn't go bad. It might not next time."
"Sorry."
"Don't - don't be sorry," you say, finding your guard going down a bit at her genuine apology, "just...lessons learnt, right?"
She nods, enthusiastically, "yes. One hundo percento!"
You shake your head, "alrighty then. Onward to Filly."
Filly wasn't a bad town. It had all sorts of life in it, not all nice mind, and a certain charm with the environment it laid in. It was also what led you to realise that, for most of your time surviving, you had spent it wandering in circles essentially, with you almost always ending up back here and some point.
Lucy moves between two people, reaching out and grabbing your hand to make sure you don't get lost. She tightens it a bit as you look back at the two people as they look at Lucy, discussing to themselves about the Vault Dweller.
"Y/N, come on," she says, tugging on your hand, "no need to start a fight."
Your hand unfurls from the fist it was in.
You nod at her, she nods back.
A vendor tries to get her to try some meat; she tries to find information on her dad; the vendor just goes back to selling meat.
"Move on. Come on. Don't wanna get trapped here," you say, trying to usher Lucy along.
"But he might --" Lucy protests.
"Trust me?" you ask, attempting to just keep her moving.
Yet --
"I do," Lucy says.
It makes you both pause.
"What?" she asks, genuinley confused.
"That quick, huh?"
She nods, now moving of her own volition.
"Like I said, good judge of character."
She walks on a bit, as you stay put.
"Huh," you say. You'd never been told that before. A snake, sure. Or some other bad word. But never someone to be trusted. Sounded foreign to you.
Still, it made you have a slight spring in your step - or as much as you could, given your current predicament.
Lucy looks in wonder at the place, "Wow-wee!" she says.
"Not a bad looker, is it? End of the world really brings out the creativity in people."
"I didn't expect this, for sure," she admits. Maybe it's her honesty, the ability to have her guard almost always be down, that makes you admire her a bit more. She trusts easily. It shakes you a bit, how quickly she both did that and gave you her water. Things like that are worth gold out here. And yet she gave it to you freely.
She's the one with that dart gun, and yet you find yourself being more of the protector. She accidentally barges shoulder with someone, and apologises. The man, a towering figure, looks her up and down. You stand between them, until his friend hits him as well.
"They might have something for you," you say, nodding to the shop, "I'll stay with you until you find something here. Then, let you be on your way."
"Wait, you aren't coming with me to my dad?" she asks, saddened.
"I mean, I didn't think so? If she has something, then you know where to go. I told you the golden rule: don't fuck with people, and they won't with you. About all you need to know really. That, and you got that," you nod to her weapon, "so you should be ok."
"'Should'?"
You sigh, running a hand on your face. You feel off, "yeah. I mean, I know you said about your vault and all, but that life is too good for someone like me."
"That's not true," she says, hurt on your behalf.
You hold a hand up, "look, we'll talk after, ok? You just go in first, see if she knows anything, then go from there, ok?"
She nods, mood dampened a little. She goes in; you sit in a chair, coughing a few times as you do. You don't know if it's the heat, or what, but something is dragging you down. You just hope it's not this infection. That would be an embarrassing way to go.
Time ticks by, before she leaves, face looking depressed.
"What happened?" you ask. But you don't get an answer, instead, she pauses, looking to a man with glasses.
He warns her about going back to her vault. That it isn't safe here. You chuckle, a dry one but still, he's hit the nail on the head.
He then surprises you both, he tells her facts about her vault: their primary crop is corn; there is a telesonic projector in your farm; it loops images of the Nebraskan countryside; meritocracy - whatever that means - something about the right thing apparently.
You miss the rest, and jolt at a hand on your shoulder. It's Lucy, who is looking at you in concern. She says something, looks away from you, but the voices overlap until -
"It's ok," Lucy says, softly. You look, and see the man she was talking to, a doctor - round glasses, a kind smile on his aged face, "he's a doctor."
"I don't have many - or any tools," he says, looking apologetic.
You wave him off, "not like I have many - or any caps."
He chuckles, leaning down a bit to look at you, "I think, in your condition, I can make an exception," you chuckle a bit this time - it instantly goes into a cough, "let's have a look at you," he reaches out, and you recoil, "to help, I will need to touch."
You seem to forget Lucy had previously held your hand and you had felt nothing of it, but you flinch when even she touches you and puts a hand on your knee.
"Y/N, this is the only way to help you," she insists, "you helped me get here. And, to be honest, I don't really want to leave you in this condition."
You look at her pleading eyes. She's only known you for an hour, tops, and yet she wants the genuine best for you.
You've been looked at like that before, it didn't end well. Friendships never did.
Still, you find yourself nodding. The doctor is gentle with his touch, looking at your scratches.
"I believe it is this one," he says, gesturing to one on your torn trousers being exposed to everything.
"Someone urinated on it," Lucy says.
The doctor looks to you, you confirm it, "ah, then this is what may of caused the infection. Either that, or general exposure to wasteland itself. How long have you had this wound?"
"I honestly do not know."
The doctor nods, stands, and readjusts his glasses, "I will try find you a Stimpack inside, and see if that helps your pain."
The woman from inside the shop comes out, and helps the doctor 'Wilzig' inside. Lucy helps you up. However, before anything else can happen, a Ghoul stands up, calling out to him.
Wilzig's leg is blown off. There's a tense moment, before bullets start flying. A stray bullet catches you on the shoulder. You stumble into the store. You look for a weapon, anything to help keep yourself and Lucy alive as the gunshots keep flying.
"Y/N. Y/N!" Lucy says, making sure not to touch you, but close enough to catch you if you fall, "you can't fight like this! You need to hide!"
"I ain't hiding!" you say, memories of a previous failure flashing in your mind, "not with that monster outside."
"I'll deal with him."
"With that little piss shooter?!" you snap, adrenaline pushing you at this point. A couple more coughs leave you.
"Look, you can't help like this, ok?" she says, taking her weapon out. And, despite your own circumstances, you can see clearly that it's drugs loaded into the thing - it'll do nothing here, "I will solve this as peacefully as I can, ok."
"That really ain't a good idea -"
"Trust me, Y/N. Ok? Golden rule. I have mine and you have yours. Right now, I'm gonna use mine, but if it goes bad, I'll use yours and this."
You can't even stop her as she goes outside.
The Ghoul seems almost annoyed at this whole thing. But, before he can shoot Lucy, a Brotherhood member appears in a suit, and blocks shots aimed for Lucy as they both come through the wall.
With the distraction, you take your moment. You don't have a gone, but you may as well...help. The good doctor helped you after all.
With Lucy and the shop owner's help, you pull Wilzig inside. They sit him down on a seat, as your wounds get to you. You stumble.
Lucy, in an instant, catches you and puts you on your own seat.
"Holy moly," Lucy says, looking at your bleeding shoulder, "that is in deep.
"I know," you say, trying to find something to pull it out with. The shop owner seems to know this, and pushes a knife towards you. You take it, and take a few steadying breaths.
Your hand shakes, adrenaline not helping you here at all. You're scared too. Have whatever the hell is wrong with you plus your fear. Not a great combo.
Lucy, attempting to ignore the Wilzig having a robotic foot being shoved into him, looks at you and approaches you.
"Here," she says, taking your hand and taking the knife, "let me."
"You even know what you're doing?"
She shrugs, "steadier hand, somehow," she quips, holding out her hand and comparing it to yours, "and, no time like the present."
You suppose you have like no options, so you just nod.
"You wanna know my golden rule?" she asks, trying to distract you as she psyches herself up. You make a noise she assumes is 'ok' and continues, "'Do unto others as you would have them do unto you.'" she says, "you helped me, I'll help you. That is how we rebuild."
"The hell you jump from me to rebui--" you are cut off when Lucy jabs the knife into your shoulder. A burning white flash hits your vision. You hear a plethora of 'sorry!' leave her, but you finally the pain start to fade a small bit when you feel the knife be removed along with the bullet casing.
"Done! Done!" Lucy says. You try and focus your breathing and mind, trying to escape the pain.
You feel a glass of something be put in your hand. You down it. You feel the burn of some alcoholic drink.
"Now," the shopkeeper says," that should keep your friend going for a little bit. At least, until they find a Stimpack. I'm sure you'll find one on your way to Moldaver. You feel her pat you - you don't flinch, too focused on being in the present and not spinning, "you alright, kid?"
You give a thumbs up.
She gives you another pat. You open your eyes. You don't feel amazing. But, you don't feel as worse, so in this world that's positively amazing.
"I'll sneak you three out back," the shopkeeper says.
She keeps her word. Once again, something rare here.
Lucy, yourself, and Wilzig walk through the wasteland. Lucy keeps checking her pip boy every so often.
You come to a rest, and your day gets even better:
Wilzig has taken a cyanide pill, and you need to decapitate him to keep going and have something to give Moldaver.
He passes away, and Lucy looks to the blade she has been given. It startles her when it activates.
"Okey dokey, Luce," she says to herself, "you can do this. You can do this. Just...think of it as a massive knife that...moves, and you'll be -"
It activates again and she drops it. She doesn't reach it first, however, you do.
"Look away, is all I'll say."
"No, Y/N. No, you don't have to do this --"
"'Do unto others', right?" You nod, preparing yourself for the grim task, "I got this, ok? Just, look away, please? It'll get real messy."
She stutters a few times; seemingly wanting to persist, thank you, and object all in one go. But, she turns around. You look back at the body.
"Here we go..." you tell yourself, before activating the blade.
Guess you're in this now...fully.
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