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librarycards · 4 months

Note

Hello! Sorry if you’ve posted about this somewhere already/if it’s redundant, but I thought your coinage of “transMad” was very cool and I’m wondering what that term means to you? I’m really happy to see other people talking about madness being intertwined w their gender/transness and looking forward to checking out your reading lists :))

thank you so much for asking about one of my favorite things to infodump about!! rather than rehash a bunch of stuff, if it's okay, I'm going to borrow a few quotes from past!me that i've published in different places // offer you some things of mine to read.

broadly, though, i use transMadness as a way to explore the identificatory, epistemological, methodological, and theoretical implications of an orientation (to use Sara Ahmed's term) toward bodymind noncompliance and self/selves-determination. this orientation refuses to delineate diagnostically between Maddened / transed experiences of the world/our many worlds, and instead takes this shared/overlapping ground as a jumping off point for solidarity and speculation - that is, something that allows us to imagine otherwise worlds / make them manifest through creativity and collaboration.

(Ha, and I claimed i wouldn't talk too much...famous autistic last words)

ANYWAY. here are some clips that might help explain more dimensions of transMadness. note that, in my dissertation-in-progress, i'm focusing on xeno/neogender and/as self-diagnostic cultures among queercrip and transMad internet users. i'm interested in the anti-psych liberatory potential of this digital community work, especially as it centers forms of knowledge and scholarship devalued within Academia Proper, especially because so much of it is made by and for disabled, Mad, queer, trans people, esp. youth. Onward to quotes!

On transMad epistemologies: citation/power/knowledge:

I’ll spend most of this piece looking not at what transMad is, but what it does. First and foremost, transMad cites. Even its name alludes to other portmanteaus: neuroqueer and queercrip being the best-known among them. Many people have offered many different (ever-“working”!) definitions of these terms; today, I offer co-coiner Nick Walker’s (2021) definition of neuroqueer: a verb and an adjective “encompass[ing] the queering of neurocognitive norms as well as gender norms” (p. 196). In terms of queercrip, I also return to its coiner, Carrie Sandahl (2003), who for whom the queercrip (as person and as method/movement) confuses the diagnostic gaze, bears sociopolitical witness, and performs glitchful[4], incongruous, confusing in(ter)ventions into possible community. At base, “queer” and “crip” appear as analogous, reclaimed slurs signifying marginalized transgression. When combined, they describe a loop, perhaps a Möbius strip: crip (ani)mates queer, queer tells-on crip. The specter of crip haunts queer—and even more explicitly, as we will see, trans—and the crip(ped) bodymind holds, moves, and fucks queerly. Who knows where “queer” stops and “crip” and “neuro” begin? Likewise, transMad, whose citational style leaves little room for diagnostic clarity amidst a pastiche of noncompliant text.

On transMad epistemologies: multiplicity (h/t @materialisnt):

They encourage us to remove others’ names from our bodies, to reign in unruly citations, to set “boundaries” which violate Mad, crip ethics of care (see Fletcher, 2019). In truth, any framing of individual authorship in which the body text is “mine” and the citations gesture “elsewhere” belie the inherent interdependence of all intellectual life, and particularly of transMad intellectual life. transMad plural scholar mix. alan moss (2022) argues in relation to the pathologization of multiple systems: “all people, indeed all that exists, is a system that itself is constantly enmeshed in several overlapping and interconnected systems.” In short, I am full of Is, and will continue as many more. Just as disability justice helps us understand all life as interdependent and deserving of access, a transMad approach sees our selves as numerous and fuzzy. We have permission to dispense with the need for tidy texts, with our interlocutors, edits, and iterations either obfuscated entirely or exclusively relegated to a bibliography. transMad citation may thus be considered akin to visible mending[6], creating flamboyantly messy, multiplicitous work that does not seek to pass as objective or discrete.

On the value of (crip) failure and/as "virtuality":

Don’t get me wrong: Zoom PhD work is a failing enterprise. That is to say, it is a queercrip, transMad enterprise, which is to say, it is a beautiful, beautiful project. Mitchell, Snyder, and Ware describe such “fortunate failures” in the context of “curricular cripistemologies.”5 Coined by Merri Lisa Johnson, the term “cripistemologies,” refers to “embodied ways of knowing in relation, knowing-with, knowing-alongside, knowing-across-difference, and unknowing,” ways which frequently exist outside the purview of mainstream academia.6 Curricular cripistemologies, then, refer to an intentional, queercrip deviation from normative pedagogical approaches which trades the corrective impulse of “special ed” and other rehabilitative programs, and offers instead a generative noncompliance.7 That is, rather than trying to identify, isolate, and ameliorate difference, curricular cripistemologies lean into difference as it is experienced by disabled students ourselves, querying how atmospheres of in/accessibility shape normative approaches to education and how the embrace of “failure,” not as a last-resort but as a first choice, poses potentially transformative possibilities.

On transMadness and fat liberation: (for @trans-axolotl's Psych Survivor Zine)

A transMad, fat approach to disorderly eating requires making connections with humility and understanding, and, as I discussed above, engaging in compassionate, critical interrogation of our own anti-fatness.

[...]

A transMad, fat, abolitionist politic is one that makes room. We imagine beyond the cage, even if the details of that imagining are not yet clear. Just as we have carved micro-sites of support within violent digital and in-person contexts, just as we have learned to think about our lifeworlds beyond the paradigm of “recovery or death,” we can also reconceptualize fatness not as the enemy, but as another form of bodymind noncompliance in alliance and/or entanglement with disorderly eating practices. For thin disorderly eaters, this requires us to fundamentally challenge the way we view food and embodiment, even while maintaining a Mad respect for alternative ways of approaching reality.

On xenogenders, virtuality, and self-determination:

It is this very “irrationality” –– the “unrealness,” the “you’ve-got-to-be-kiddinghood,” that is most frequently weaponized against xenogenders, as well as their newly-coined sets of xenopronouns. The perceived and actual virtuality of xenogenders is often placed against the notion of “actuality,” in this case, of “real” (or “practical”) genders and pronouns to be used in one’s “real life.” Disabled activists have rightly resisted the distinction between online and (presumed-offline) “real life,” given that this categorically excludes homebound bodyminds, as well as those without IRL social and support circles. That said, I believe the virtual –– as almost, not-quite, proximite, making-do –– is incredibly useful in thinking about xenoidentities as transMad tools –– particularly, as transMad tools of underground collaboration / co-liberation.

[...]

What if gender was a project we wanted to fail? That is, what if trans- was a process not of getting better, not of moving-toward a bodymind more sane, more straight, and more cisheteropatriarchially desirable, but rather a line of flight on a longer trail to illegibility? Indeed, what if we replaced pathology’s narrow “path” with a trail lighted by the language of our comrades, whose linguistic interventions make and break gender in ways heretofore unimaginable? Xenoidentities, both individually and as a trans-gressive M.O., are fundamental to a broader transMad project of crafted, collective illegibility; intersubjective citation (imagine what it feels like for someone to be the gender that you coined!); and collective care that refuses a politics of cure. Crucially both virtual and digital, xenoidentities are furthermore a manifestation of the power of trans, predominantly disabled digital counterpublics, who overturn the hierarchy which places the IRL-real above the digital-unreal, making unruly, Mad space in which (with apologies to Donna Haraway) a hundred xenoselves might bloom.

On Maddening queer "diagnosis":

In her indictment of all “Kwik-Fix Drugs,” Gray further indicates the practice of forced treatment as in and of itself as a project of violent normalization, regardless of specific target or reason. The intentional ambiguity between her narrative of Madness and her narrative of asexuality disrupt mounting demands for a healthy (sanitized, neoliberal, and consumable) queerness. A Mad ace approach identifies these demands as, indeed, comparable with cis heteronormative notions of sexual maturity and responsibility – the idea that participation in culturally-normative sexual practices is a prerequisite for health (Kim, 2011, 481) and thus, personal autonomy (Meerai, Abdillahi, and Poole 2016, 21). By fusing the “lack of sexual appetite” attributed to her medications for bipolar disorder with her asexuality, Gray destabilizes the binary between healthy-sexual-diversity and unhealthy-psychopathology. She is once again disrupting contemporary queer impulses to dissociate from ongoing histories of pathologization. Here, Mad and queer/asexual activism are as inseparable in text as they are in Gray. Gray and her comrades collectively refuse both sexuality-as-“rehabilitation” (See Kim 2011, 486) and asexual acceptance predicated upon normative “health” (Kim 2010, 158) – that is, they Madden asexuality. Twoey, in her own voice, remixes the sources of her own pathologization, staggering the supposedly-divine pronouncement of the DSM across pages and bookending its extracts with her own writing and art. In this undermining of the DSM’s epistemological polish, Gray disrupts the domination of written prose over poetry and visual art, while also critiquing the role of the DSM in commercialized health “care.” Her zine opens with the lines “sex sells and sex is sold / sex was being sold and i didn’t buy” (Gray 2018, n.p.). Gray indicates a pathology perceived not only in a refusal to practice sex, but also in a refusal to buy (into) it. After all, a refusal to buy into existing sexual paradigms is for her also a refusal to buy into a feminized reproductive mandate.

#sector-v #thank you genuinely!#ask #transmad #antipsychiatry #xenogender #epistemology #madness

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perceabeth · 2 years

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ah yes. the exact vibe i want in my inbox: t, t, t.....

#ter bear #writing a piece of d&u and forgetting like. every single discussion t and i have ever had..... so true of me

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birthdaycakeplate · 11 months

Text

Ambiguous Ceasefire AU

Everyone’s favorite trope- Megatron gets high in the medbay and flirts with Optimus ✨

(I cannot proof read this or I will die)

————————————-

“It’s processor damage, Ratchet-“

“No, it’s processor lag. Stop fretting, Prime. He shouldn’t of been drinking that slag with an injury like that.”

“It’s a common practice, stumpy. Decepticons do not have ze luxury of pain patches jou hoity-toity Autobots do.”

“This is peace time, Strika. He could have waited for me to get to him after he comm’ed for me! Overcharge interferes with medication.”

“Please don’t raise your voice, Ratchet. He’s likely very sensitive.”

Megatron made a pathetic noise of agreement. Though it was too great a chore to open his optics and see for himself who was yelling back and forth at one another over his helpless, prone form, he could at least summon the strength to wave his servo in a silent plea to be spared.

These bots sounded far too over involved, and Megatron just wanted to sleep…

He shifted to find his bearings and a tremor ran through him as a searing sensation nestled deep in his abdominal plate screamed at him in protest. He conceded with a hiss, falling back against the padded slab beneath him.

“Hey! Stop moving!”

Megatron flinched at the sudden shouting.

“Let him.” Said the thick accent.

“He has to learn his lesson.”

“But it’s not his fault- you said he was trying to numb the pain.”

‘Not his fault’.

If Megatron’s glossa weren’t impossibly heavy and he had a slice of a processor left to think with, he knew he’d be quite inclined to chat with the more forgiving of the three voices above him to help him make sense of things.

He liked having a sensible mech around.

“He’s an idiot, but he was also desperate, you two.”

Megatron took it back.

Sleep was clearly not an option anymore, nor was a moment’s peace of the burning hole in his tank keeping him on high alert.

Through sheer force of will -and the need to assert himself, especially as an incapacitated warlord- Megatron cracked an optic open to address the spinning room at large.

In seconds, the colliding world of colors and far too bright lights came into a hazy focus, morphing into a sight more arresting than his first view of the Iacon tower in 4 millennia.

Before him stood a stunningly vivid mech, painted in blues and reds, silvers and yellows, and peering down at him with such captivation.

Shielding him from the blinding light in his optics with his curiously cocked helm.

Or perhaps, Megatron thought, that was concern etched into his smooth features- rather unsure of how to behold the colossal mech laid before him.

Megatron had built an empire with… ‘physical persuasion’ and his dashing charisma, and this new recruit was clearly feeling out of his depths at the sight of his glorious leader. Even in the pathetic state he was in -which Megatron could tell by his aching joints.

He was simply too magnificent a mech.

“Megatron?” The young recruit spoke his name, and in an instant of clarity, as Energon rushed to Megatron’s helm -and with it, the euphoric tendrils of some unnamed emotion- Megatron realized in wonder and awe that this was no recruit he’d ever seen before- because the blue mech wasn’t one.

“….M-Megatron?”

He was a guardian sent by Primus. That was a halo above his angled helm.

“A holy architect of the AllSpark.” The helicopter murmured in a hushed voice. Lying there in worship.

“You are a messenger of Primus?”

Wide optics stared back at him.

“No- Megatron, you’re not dead.” That little billed helm shook.

“This is Cybertron.”

“I don’t think he thinks he’s dead and gone to the well of AllSparks.” Ratchet mumbled somewhere off to his side. Dialing in another boost of sensor blockers to rush Megatron’s sensor net and effectively muddle his already vacant processor further.

With the new surge of pleasure came another ping of inspiration, as Megatron’s sharp denta gleamed and curled back into the first genuine smile he’d fostered in ages.

The little angel looked at him, terrified.

“You are a messenger, here to give me strength to stand and weather these injuries to fight another day. I can feel myself returning to my full glory from just your presence here.”

“That would be the cortical patch.” Ratchet spoke again.

“You’re high. Feels good, don’t it?”

The angel began to shake his helm more frantically at Megatron’s blatant leering.

“I’m not a… a… u-um. I’m…”

“When I raise my sword again, fair Virgo,” Megatron’s rumbling vocalizer broke with the roughness of recharge attempting to take over him.

“Know that it is you I pray to victory for.”

Laughter burst throughout the little makeshift medbay as Strika heaved her vents empty. Ratchet struggled similarly.

Megatron did not mind the boisterous -frankly bothersome in this moment of rare beauty- laughter, as the angel’s blue faceplates turned kissably red all at once because of it.

Perhaps he was shy and unused to the thunderous sounds of war. The battlefield was always full of raucous mechs, and untouched by the appearance of a creation so pure and precious, did not know how to shelter one from it.

Megatron attempted to reach up and pacify the frightened thing by freckling each cheekplate with a gentle press of his lips to them, but found himself immediately knocked back by the weight of his own unresponsive limbs.

“Megatron!” The little mech reached out and grabbed his paw of a hand, barely able to grip one massive digit, squeezing for some kind of confirmation that Megatron was ok.

He was out, though. Giving in to the impressive cocktail of blockers Ratchet had calculated he’d fall victim to several minutes ago.

The laughter continued until Strika was on her knees on the floor, scrambling to string a sentence together.

“It’s processor lag…” Optimus reminded them.

———————————

Megatron had been subjected to the recording Strika had taken ten times over -or what little he could make of it over her deafening cackling. The wretched glitch.

Why he hadn’t permanently demoted her right then and there with his fusion cannon was entirely Lugnut’s fault, with his endless litany of loyalties Megatron needed to take into account.

He had to admit, while he couldn’t see most of what he and Optimus were up to by the end of Strika’s wheezing attack, he could not deny that that was his voice on the other end of the recording, promising his spark away to his former rival and crooning over him like he was the one bleeding out on a medberth.

Not that Megatron would be worried if he were…

At least their entire Earth teams hadn’t bared witness to the display, as they had when it’d been Blitzwing and Bumblebee accidentally confessing to one another. And that had been fairly explicit in its presentation, too.

So it could have been worse…

Optimus, with his flushed face, wasn’t looking at him like he shared that opinion anymore, though….

————

Actually, Optimus is gay as fuck right now and he wants to do that again please, but he doesn’t think he deserves it, you know how his insecurities are

#Ceasefire Au #transformers animated #morphine tastes like meeting an Angel #tfa #tfa optimus #Optimus Prime #megop #tfa megop #Megatron #tfa Megatron #this poor baby #Megan and Timothy both #tfa Ratchet #tfa strika

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compassionatereminders · 5 days

Note

Dear Kat, I've been following you for some time and wanted to ask for your perspective on a subject that's been on my mind lately: euthanasia. (If you'd rather not answer this, you may delete it.)

I recently learned from the news that a woman from the Netherlands, Zoraya ter Beek, plans to die next month because she could no longer bear living with her mental pain. She was reported to be depressed, autistic, with borderline personality disorder. And as I dug deeper into it, I found even more stories of women like her seeking and obtaining assisted suicide. Over and over again, the testimony from the women and their families indicated that it was better if they died.

Needless to say, this was highly distressing to find out, as someone who is also autistic and has dealt with anxiety and depression off and on since I was 13. I've been bullied for the former even before I got my diagnosis and was fired twice in a row because of it. Now I'm seeking a career change and I'm running into the same fears. What if my current employer decides I'm not good enough no matter how hard I work, all because of this thing I can't change? Is this rejection going to follow me for the rest of my life, no matter where I go?

If I recall correctly, you're from the Netherlands, and you strongly believe in supporting bodily autonomy. Should the right to this autonomy include self harm, even suicide?

No, I am not in any current danger in that regard. I want very much to live and educate. My issue is that so many people like me are choosing to end their lives, and the people around them seem to be encouraging it.

I'm not from the Netherlands and euthanasia isn't legal where I live. That being said, I am highly critical of the countries which are implementing euthanasia programs for various disabled individuals while simultaneously cutting down on resources and programs which would allow said disabled people to live full lives while being disabled. I do not think the solution to disabled people suffering immensely in this society is euthanasia, and especially in places where there aren't adequate opportunities for disabled people to actually live full lives, I am actually very critical of offering euthanasia as a solution. Not because I want people who don't want to be here to be forced to suffer, but because it seems like making euthanasia avaliable frees governments and health care systems from making sure other options are actually accessible and adequate. So while ideologically I am in favor of people's right to bodily autonomy, even when used for self harm, I think legalizing and effectualizing euthanasia in this kind of society is very likely to be a slippery slope and an excuse not to invest in disabled people beyond allowing us the freedom to die.

#chat with kat #euthanasia tw #eugenics tw #death tw #suicide tw #self harm tw #bullying tw

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the-cat-and-the-birdie · 7 months

Note

Do you think the Peters would continue to wear their masks in HQ because it's weird seeing your face on other people even if they're all a teensy bit different or would they have gotten over it quickly?

This kinda opens up a big chasm that I'm SO CURIOUS ABOUT - Because I would assume they'd get use to it, but HOW.

And now this has turned into a long post about

The Spider Society: Multiverse Integration Process Analysis

[In this post I theorize and deconstruct:

The psychological existential damage that would come with joining The Society

How The Society handles integration and mental health for new recruits in everything from those in different timelines (Noir & Webslinger), Duplicates (Like Gwen & Hobie)

These are all headcanons based on.....me.

And...this devolves into a rant a little bit in the beginning BEAR WITH ME - But I hope you enjoy and I'm DYING to hear people's thoughts!! We GETTIN INTO IT]

So. Joining the Society sounds swell. But thinking about it for more than two seconds..

Even the idea is like...borderline traumatic.

Think about it. Like we've only ever seen ourselves in mirrors and photos - mirrors being reflections and photos having a shorter focal length than the human eye.

We normally have a very limited view on how we've ever seen ourselves externally.

So turning up to HQ isn't just seeing yourself - it's seeing yourself WRONG. In a way you've never seen yourself before. Some even theorize that your brain wouldn't even process it as you because of your visual expectations of yourself.

So as a Peter-

Maybe he doesn't even realize at first that the people around him ARE HIM, until it clicks like 'OH. THATS WHAT I LOOK LIKE?!' Is that my face???

It would only take a couple seconds to do the math, but it's still JARRING. To see yourself moving and speaking and actively laughing.

Hearing your own laugh.

HEARING YOUR VOICE SAY THINGS YOU'D NEVER SAY. Literally looking at another Spider-person like 'I would not say that'. It must be so mentally jarring and confusing to suddenly have a new and complete external view of yourself you have no control over - even moreso with such wide variation.

And then it goes even further - as trans person like

I imagine Trans-Guy Peter Parker turning up to campus and realizing '..oh, most other Peters are cis.' The emotions of that would be so surreal and conflicting. Part affirmative of your place in the universe as a guy, but also part isolating or confusing.

Part 'Hell yeah other guys', part 'WTF universe' [Like if I saw cis guy version of myself bruh Idk if I'd hug him or fight him to the death right then and there i REALLY don't know I might snap and go Miguel Mode on that mfer anything could happen]

It even goes further to time eras:

I understand why Noir isn't in the Society. Having a bunch of Spider-people from 2023 saying 'Oh wow you're from 1933, well your life is gonna SUCK for the next decade or two cause in my universe in WW2 Germany-'

Like...that's NERVE-WRECKING.

Cause he'd probably be like 'wow swell, chipper. so umm...is WW2 a canon event because im trying really hard to stop that'

Imagine being from the 1930's and someone comes up and spoils WW2 for you. WORLD WAR 2. SPOILED. Like it's a soap opera.

If someone shows Noir Oppenheimer it's like..game over. What's he gonna do does he even know what an atom bomb is.?????

When joining, everyone is faced with a LARGE possibility of existential damage - even moreso for Peters, minority Peters, or people like Gwen.

Which begs the question - HOW DOES INTEGRATION WORK?

How does The Spider Society handle Integration?

I'm so curious to hear thoughts about this. Because how can you integrate someone of a different history, technological understanding, and basic EXISTENCE without psychologically sending them in a tailspin?

I'm gonna take a crack at it!

Culturally and Timeline wise? -

Culturally, how does one adjust? Like Noir?

I was thinking about this with the creation of my new OC - and I ran into a huge problem in terms off integration.

I recently created an OC who is supposed to come from a Wakanda-like rendition of South America - in a universe where the Spanish conquistadors never colonized.

Which is a lovely thought - But logically speaking

That Spider-person has to go to HQ and be told that in every other world their land was colonized for hundreds of years. *vine thud*

Then that Spider-person would logically, have to be told that large swathes of their culture were either destroyed, desecrated or were never created to begin with because of this colonization

- and that THEIR universe is the only universe where their people survive and thrive.

AND THEN they're looking at her like

'Now that we explained that uhhh can you go through an integration course for us? :) so you can assimilate into our society? but the course is only in widely spoken languages like English and SPANISH. Do you speak SPANISH? Welcome to NUEVA YORK btw'

UH-OH. THAT SUCKS ASS. Who's gonna be the one to tell her that???

Of course she'd be like 'Actually, this is the worst day of my life i hate everyone here and im psychologically stressed beyond repair, thanks for that. your society and multiverse sucks balls btw'

And this is not something I'm choosing to put the character through.

In fact, the character is supposed to be about the empowerment of Quechua people and avoiding the trauma of colonization.

But by simply existing in the context of The Spider Society - Logically speaking - she has to face this huge inevitable trauma and reality outside of her universe.

And that adjustment goes way beyond her learning technology. She'd genuinely be in mourning.

She wouldn't be able to connect with other Latin American Spider-people, because she's NOT 'Latin-American'. That idea is foreign to her.

She'd constantly be told or sent messages that her universe and nation and reality was a novel rarity. A lucky fluke.

There has to be some integration process in place -

If you're from a universe like Barbieland, where your society is matriarchal, you'd probably be really stunned and hurt to experience casual or outright sexism for the first time.

And then being told by other Spiderwomen that - yeah no, your universe isn't actually that common. Most universes SUCK for women.

-That'd scare the shit outta you. You'd be like fine I dont wanna go to other universes I wanna go home and cry

On the other hand, people like Hobie exist, who hail from dystopias. And for them, it's the reverse. The Society may be a new batch of freedom they've never dealt with before.

And they have to be assured they are back not and do have more freedom and that's good. Almost like the deprogramming from a cult (into something another society that's very similar).

Someone would have to explain:

People from different times (or social standings) as well.

Sure, Hobie may have adjusted easy, but we can only assume that. And I've talked before about how learning about other Spider-People, The Society, and their blatant disrespect to what HE considers the point of Spider-man - was probably incredibly stressful for him.

Or even simple things of telling a black Spider-person from let's say 1940 that 'you have equality now - there's groups and movements and you can meet black people from newer universes that are happy and free to do as they please. You can heal'. After DECADES of oppression.

Or telling a gay or trans Spider-person 'Oh, most universes are actually super accepting. I'm sorry yours is so oppressive. The HRT here is great and free.'

EVEN FOR SILLY PEOPLE for Spider-people like lets say Spider-Fool (a silly little guy). How do you explain to Spider-Fool that Miguel isn't a king - he's just some guy and NO horseback jousting with Webslinger is against rules and not a way to settle disputes??

They're not hearing that.

Or explaining to people that Lyla isn't a person and its possible for her to be everywhere at once.

Logically speaking someone has explain this to them right out very early on and I'm so curious about that!!

There has to be something there to mentally support them so they don't crack and also explain to them the nuances of existence in a universe that's literally like the New York of the multiverse- full of dozens of cultures and subgroups.

My Analysis -

So I'm assuming an cultural integration includes:

Some sort of Common World History Course

A Social Etiquette Course and a

Multiverse Minority Sensitivity Course that deals with either accepting and adjusting to the fact you're a Multiverse Minority or how to approach and speak to Multiverse Minorities if you're a Peter or something.

Optionally: The MMS Course may also include routine therapy sessions at the Mental Health Center to check their adjustments

So okay, you've explained the multiverse and how to exist in it! Great

____

Now you have to explain THE TIMELINE.

Which is arguably WORSE. And I'm not even TOUCHING Canon Events here.

Let's talk about Gwen. Because I feel for her. REALLY REALLY BAD FOR HER.

How did they explain to Gwen WHO she was - or WHY these grown men were staring at her?

Imagine being Gwen on day one. Asking herself how all these guys know her name.

She's basically alone beside these new adults and Peter B. - and suddenly large groups of grown men are staring at her because holy shit she looks exactly like their sweetheart who they last saw in a goddamn casket.

Like not only is that gonna really throw off Peters mentally - it's probably terrifying for Gwen.

I'm not slagging off Peters here, but I genuinely think that Gwen's first time on campus would draw crowds. It a genuine situation on campus. Like people standing around her at all times until Miguel makes them stop.

Because when you lose someone SO traumatically, and then suddenly they're in front of you without warning - your first reaction would be to stare, and be totally stunned. It's surreal.

Even if you knew it was 'technically possible'. When they're standing there in front of you after you've seen them buried, your brain needs time to process that.

So I do think that her being there would trigger some kind of event on campus, and not in a good way.

Gwen's like 'How do these people - these GUYS know me? What's this crowd for? Why are some of them crying? This is scary.'

She's 16 for christ's sake.

And then someone has to explain to her who she is, and how she dies. Come on now.

Imagine someone being like 'Oh yeah you break ur back and die from a fall in literally every universe lol. Anyway can you go out and swing at high altitude after an anomaly? thanks, don't fall! - just kiddin'

Wouldn't you be like 'nah actually i wanna never leave my room'?. That could instill a level of fear that's paralyzing because you're waiting for the other Gwen shoe to drop (sorry had to take the pun)

Or even worse -

You're Gwen literally just existing and a grown Peter comes up to you and just shows you your own funeral photo. Like ?????????????? You'd be there like ?????????????????????!!!!!

HOW DO YOU REACT TO THAT???? How do you stop that??? How do you explain or process that?????

That scenario is completely possible in the context of Spiderverse!!

How do they explain to people like Gwen or Hobie their 'PLACE' in the universe?

Especially someone like Hobie who isn't with the shits to begin with.

In the comics, we see Pavitr reflect on The Spider Society and race - and when entire identities are dragged into it - it's going to get confusing.

Did they TELL Hobie's he's Prowler? Would he even believe them?

Or did they let him come across a Prowler only to see them and be like 'M8 that's me that's literally me standing there'

Once again, you may theoretically know it's possible. But also - the human brain isn't made to process that. In the moment you have no idea how you'd react, realistically speaking.

The situation in itself goes entirely against the brain's understanding of fate, reality, and your entire personhood.

Seeing yourself from 3rd person doing actions you would not do is like - forced depersonalization and disssociation. IRL.

You are literally being depersonalized from your actual basic identity. Dissociated and forced to watch from an outside view - except it's not something your brain is doing - IT'S THE UNIVERSE and you're watching it in real time.

There has to be some way all of these people are like - capable of processing all this in a natural way like a university - with some sort of mental support and coaching. It wouldn't be possible without it.

If Webslinger can walk around and see flying cars in Neuva York and not care, then something had to get him to that point.

Timeline wise - I can only guess classes are separated based on need and classifications which I spoke about here.

A Mental Health Course & Identity Coaching for Peters - to help them resecure their identity in a sea of copies

A Mental Health Course & Identity Coaching for 'Not Peters' - like Pavitr

A Mental Health Course & Identity Coaching for Duplicates - like Gwen & Hobie, to help them 'regain autonomy' in a universe in which they are a rarity or a 'lucky chance'

ADDITIONALLY:

For their own safety and privacy people like Gwen and Felicia Hardy (NightSpider) stay in separate dorms, so they're not exposed to Peter's. (not that NightSpider stays on campus. Her penthouse is nice AF)

When a Peter experiences a Gwen Stacy canon event Gwen is put on a short sabbatical - usually Miguel just tells Hobie to keep her in his universe. This is one of the only times he'll tell Hobie to do this, but it's just easier and safer if she's not there.

Villainy Monitoring: For Hobie - extra surveillance, for a number of reasons. But Lyla also calculates his rates of villainy. They're always INCREDIBLY low, and Hobie's file indicates there's basically a 0 percent chance of him going Prowler - BUT it is something they check for. This would go for any other 'Villainous Duplicates' like Harry Osborns who become Spider-man.

Even though she's not too dangerous, NightSpider is considered a light antagonistic-but-not-evil 'Villainous Duplicate' designation in her file.

But those would have to be just the basics.

........... And now that I read this back I see that I may have went a bit off the rails...... hm.

Um...anyway I don't know where I was going for this and I'm not even sure this is what you asked for but I think it's SO interesting psychologically suhkfgdfjgkdf

This also gave me a lot of ideas for how the universes work and the web and how close different universes are but that's a whole other jar of worms.

But if you made it this far PLEASE PLEASE tell me how you think Hobie and Gwen and Your Spidersona would adjust to Spider Society! I'm curious!

..........I don't know how to end this. Thank you for this ask tho!! Here Hobie

(my face after saying the most random shit known to humankind without proofreading and then hitting post like i did something)

#NO PROOFREAD JUST YELLING #gwen stacy #atsv #across the spiderverse #across the spider verse #spider society #spiderman #spider-man #spidergwen #spider gwen #Hobie brown #spidersonas #spidersona #pavitr prabhakar #pavitr

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winterwitch-trash · 3 months

Text

"Nightmares."

Author's Note: I hope everyone's huddled up somewhere warm because it is FREEZING.

Summary: Odette is back home. But how is she dealing with the aftermath of that damn tape? How will Bucky help ease her pain?

Word Count: 1384 words

Chapter Warnings: Nightmares and past abuse, angst, feels, and fluff.

(Tagging this with a mature rating just to be safe!)

Odette’s return had made everyone stand on edge, waiting for Bucky to lash out at everyone. But he wasn’t doing anything; he preferred to transfer all the duties to Steve for a few days so he could focus on helping his wife. Steve had gladly accepted, seeing as he was the first one to note that right now Odette needed him the most. So for the following days, the blonde coordinated all mob-related operations with locating that bastard, Rumlow, was the top priority. Nat was also helping him with this.

It had been a beautiful day out and the city was bustling with life; normal citizens going about their jobs and whatnot. And yet, the mobster’s wife was buried under her covers, having spent the last few days trying to recover. But it was turning out to be nearly impossible. Every time she closed her eyes, she was back in that basement, with that camera and Rumlow’s men eyeing her like a piece of meat. She couldn’t stop listening to the taunting words that he was whispering to her; she couldn’t stop remembering how he blew his load all over her as he laughed. And the worst of it all? She felt so dirty that she couldn’t be around her husband. She had disappointed him. Bucky didn’t want to disturb her, or do something that would upset her, so the only thing he could do was to be there for her from a distance. Spending all those nights bearing witness to how she was trembling in her sleep, was giving him all the motivation he needed. Steve would soon update him with news on Rumlow. And he couldn’t wait to get him strapped in the chair, and do the exact same things he did on his wife, if not worse. But one thing was sure. Rumlow would be on his knees begging for mercy, only he would get none.

Natasha was checking on him every day, wanting to know about her friend, and the two would spend hours talking… It had to be the first time she was seeing Barnes so helpless, and it saddened her unbelievably. But she knew that Odette was a fighter.

Hours after the redhead had left the mansion, Bucky returned to the bedroom, holding a tray of food, and a chocolate for his wife. But he walked into an empty room, and that sent his heart racing. Had she run off? But then, his blue eyes fell on a champagne glass that was broken, and the shower running. Slowly, he made his way in the spacious bathroom to see her scrubbing furiously at her skin. The sight tugged at his heart, reminding him that he failed her in the worst way. She was left at the hands of his worst enemy and he had no idea of the torture she was enduring. Quietly, he slipped inside, still dressed in his shirt, taking the sponge from her hand, eyes fixed on the reddened skin. “I—It’s like I can s-still feel him on me..” She whispered without daring to look at her husband. “No… It’s not your fault.. None if it is…” Bucky replied gently turning her towards him. Odette listened carefully, yet failed to see what he was saying. Everything was her fault. What happened to her was her fault because she didn’t listen to his advice on taking a bodyguard with her that day.

For the first time, Bucky Barnes found himself speechless and he hated it. Hated the fact that he couldn’t do anything to help her. But Odette wasn’t blaming him. How could she?

Usually the two would spend hours on end talking about the dumbest of things before getting lost in each other’s embrace enjoying intimate touches and words full of love. They were also talking about starting their own family. But now? That seemed like a life time ago… Odette seemed to have shut down completely, despite her attempts to reassure Bucky that she was trying to leave the terrors she went through, he could see that she was suffering. There were times when she was trying to appear strong for Bucky’s sake, but other times she was choosing to keep to herself. The brunette was unsure of what to do to help her. But he was by her side. Always.

“ I am not blaming you Bucky…. I promise I am not..” She reassured, falling into his arms, wincing slightly at the pull of the burns and the wounds inflicted on her by her abusers.

But he blamed himself for everything. She didn’t need to know that right now. After that exchange, a comfortable silence washed over them while they remained under the shower for a few moments. The outside world could wait for a bit…

Until one night, the two were soundly asleep, when Bucky felt her violently thrashing. Another nightmare… “Sweetheart..” He gently nudged her trying to bring her back to him. But to no avail. She was caught up in her nightmare, one of the many that were playing with her mind lately. And all her nightmares had the face of the one who violated her body in the most gruesome manners… Rumlow. Her mind was always taking her back to that fateful night. Instead of her husband’s sweet voice, she kept hearing the taunts and disgusting comments of the raven haired mobster. She could feel hands on her, but fear was gripping her like a vice, making it hard for her to register that it was Bucky’s touch. Despite his pleas for her to wake up, she just couldn’t do it. And ultimately, it became so hard for her to breathe that she shot up in bed, looking around with a terrified expression, pulling away from him, as if his hands had burnt her. “Stay away from me!” She sobbed, unable to recognize him. And that broke Bucky’s heart, yet he didn’t show it. He could clearly see that she was tormented by her nightmares.

Minutes later, Odette was finally able to come back to reality. She was back in her home, in the arms of the man that would bring the world to its knees for her. “Bucky…” His name fell from her lips in a whisper, and that made him feel even worse because he failed to do something to save her from being abducted. “It’s okay doll.. I’m here and I’m not leaving you, never again..” He promised, rocking her back and forth, patiently waiting for her sobs to die down. “How—how can you still want me?” She muttered in between sobs, hiding her face from him. “Am I not damaged goods?” Those words still haunted her, and it seemed as if she had Rumlow inside her mind repeating them again and again.

Odette took a few moments to let his words sink in, pressing herself further into him, as if to hide from the world; this fearsome Mob Boss was her safe haven. Even after everything, he still chose to stay by her side, always reminding her that he loved her.

How could she think that? Bucky was stunned to listen to her uttering those words.

“No doll…From the moment I met you in that gala, I thought that I was in the presence of an angel. I would never think so low of you.. You are not damaged goods, ya hear?” He stated kissing her forehead softly, arms still wrapped around her.

Soon, he fell asleep right next to her, completely missing his phone flashing with a message.

“…I should have listened to you that day… I should have taken Steve with me…” She finally whispered, acknowledging her mistake. From now on, she would listen to him.

“Shh… None of that now sweetheart… Let’s get you in bed, yeah?” He smiled down at her, carefully placing her into their king sized bed. The only response that reached his ears was a small yawn as he saw her eyes drifting shut. Slowly, he got in bed next to her, but sleep evaded him, as his brown eyes fell on the scars inflicted on her skin. No, he wouldn’t let this go unpunished. Whoever did this to her would pay dearly.

It was from Steve, and it was only three words: “We found him.”

As always, a huge shoutout to these two goddesses of inspiration @world-of-aus & @tuiccim <3

#bucky barnes #my writing #never mess with a mafia lord #fanfiction

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