#tw racism ment

[real-total-drama-takes]

td island is such a strange season to me bcuz how in the living hell did they get away with some of the shit they said in that show

how did heather calling leshawna ghetto get through censors? how did duncan calling chef trans get through censors? how did topless heather not get even more censored? how did the scenes with bridgette and geoff making out not get censored? HOW DID "FREAKING" GET CENSORED BUT NONE OF THIS GOT CUT OUT?

LIKE THIS IS A PG SHOW FROM 2007 HOW DID THEY GET AWAY WITH SM ?

#total drama island #tdi #tw racism ment

[wings-of-fire-confessions]

The fact that the RainWing stereotype was confirmed as right is kinda racis- I'm going to stop you there. Different cultures have different priorities, and we shouldn't judge the RainWings because one of theirs is relaxing and having a good time.

.

#wings of fire confessions #wof confessions #wings of fire #wof #rainwing #rainwings #tw racism ment #racism ment

[just-antithings]

So why do some queer content creators disagree with xenogenders? Isn’t it another term for non-binary?

tw discussion of white supremacy

Short answer 1: they're exclus

Short answer 2: they're assimilationist queers who think if we can make ourselves palatable enough to The CisHets(tm), they'll be accepting. (I cannot stress enough that these people are wrong. The CisHets(tm) want zero queer people to exist, not just "the queer people they can stomach")

Long answer: a fuckton of western queer people hold bigoted internal beliefs because of being raised at the whims of white supremacy. They have not been made to challenge their internal biases and the moment these biases are challenged, in white cis queers especially, they react negatively to the Thing Making Them Uncomfortable to make the icky feeling its giving them go away.

Because that's like, the thing, right, with bigots and ableists and racists and queerphobes and antis and radfems and terfs and exclus: their solution to being made uncomfortable by something is to try and make that thing not exist, so they don't have to feel like that. After all, they can't be subjected to gross icky feelings if there's nothing around to prompt the icky feeling. It's why some bigots say they don't care "as long as they don't have to see".

Now, obviously, the healthy way of dealing with something prompting a bad feeling inside you is to. Work through that feeling. It's entirely unreasonable to demand something or someone not exist because the existence itself or just seeing that it exists makes you uncomfortable.

But that's how these people deal with it, because under white supremacy you are taught things are always someone else's problem. I'm not fucking joking - we are taught that. It's why people who have never had their worldview or authority challenged (cishet white men) deal so spectacularly badly with suddenly encountering those things. White supremacy thrives on everything being the fault of "some other guy" - the marginalized group of choice changes based on the situation and circumstances. (Which is, to be clear, super fucked up and not something I'm making light of.)

People hate on xenogenders because they're ignorant about what xenogenders are (gender related to concept of thing other than male/female ie catgender is experiencing ur gender in a cat-like way, your gender being Cat, etc & can get highly specific) and instead of trying to get educated center themselves, their own experiences with more traditional genders and gender roles, and their misguided fears that being "too queer" will make The Cishets(tm) not accept us. (They're not gonna accept us til we make them.)

Also while supremacy teaches us its okay to put aside our morals and ethics if there is an acceptable target (applies to more traditional bigotry too like racism yes. Good church going people who would never dream of saying something like that to a "normal" person because their "morals" forbid it but morals are a hat you can take off sometimes, see?). The modern internet is New Rome and everyone participates in the blood sport at the coliseum.

And no, they're not just the same thing as nonbinary.

#white supremacy mention #tw white supremacy mention #op is writing from an americentric perspective and did its best to make that clear in the post #mod seraphim #tw terf ment #tw racism ment #tw queerphobia ment #tw radfem ment #tw ableism ment #tw christianity ment #ive been back for 2 hours have an essay ig

[toosmallformyowngood]

Alright hot take the Yiga clan were actually kind of right

#I mean they didn't go about it the right way but- #More power to them for not putting up with racist monarchs #anyway general tags be upon ye now #yiga clan #botw #breath of the wild #legend of zelda #loz #loz botw #loz breath of the wild #sheikah #tw racism ment #cw racism ment #(those last two just in case because I mentioned it in the tags) #(I can and will go into more detail if asked but yk-)

[angeltism]

god i fucking hate spa.rkle sm . most shit i'm seeing says she's being racist against roman.ians , but . . . considering roman.ians are . white europeans ? and i haven't heard of much oppression towards roman.ians . I kinda doubt it ?? but you know what people whose oppression i've heard plenty of in roman.ia and who sound similar enough they constantly get confused with each other ? roma . who were enslaved for fucking centuries and to this day still face horrendous oppression in roman.ia . is she . is she fucking racist towards the h.sr version of part of my heritage . hoyo can i kick her can i please kick and punch her please please please pleaaaase pl

#➳ the fool speaks #i mean even if she just hates eastern europeans For Some Reason (roman.ians) that's still her being a racist bitch abt my heritage #<- roman.ian AND rom.ani #i deserve to kick her into the sun i think #also would this mean aven.turine is . rom.ani ? he's pale and blond . which wouldn't be toooo accurate i think ? #but ykw even if he is meant to be rom.ani n nawt roman.ian . and I'm right with all this . I don't expect hoyo to actually make someone fro #somewhere that is supposed to be based off of a culture and people that originates in northwestern india #have an ounce of color in their skin #he might also just be roman.ian but ?? then the slavery comments that I've seen around don't rlly make much sense . #but um !! idk this is going off of screenshots I've seen and what people r saying about aven.turine and her n all that so #n i haven't played in a while so idfk what's going on in the plot . this is just me being pissy about the possibility of a culture that's #still getting fucking oppressed horrendously and forgotten about and Not Even Having Their Oppression Taught To Others getting used . and #now a fucking . anime girl that I've already seen people saying they'll empty their wallets for n calling her their ''waifu 🥺'' #is being a racist piece of shit abt it . like . i find it a bit distasteful. no ? like racism can and should be shown in media #but . . . don't . don't try to sell the racist character ? don't make them look cool ? like ? am i overreacting idfk i just hate spa.rkle #SHE EVEN HAS A STUPID NAME #WTF ''ah yes this racist ableist piece of shit let's name her fucking SPARKLE'' ????????? fucking hell i dont like her i hate her #if she's playable or becomes playable I deserve to punch everyone who spends on whatever her banner is in the jaw . sorry #tw slavery ment #tw racism ment #ask to tag

[m0tel6mxzzy]

so like, me and two of my (also black) friends were discussing feeling “your best american girl” (their words) in the sense of knowing bc u live in a predominantly white area meaning there will be eurocentric beauty and dating standards, feeling like you’re never a first option except to be objectified. which a lot of us have experienced but it also felt like our white friends were never exposed to this issue, and that a lot of the time we end up carrying so much emotional labor whenever they like someone bc they’re so used to being idealized. so much subconscious competition that we need to bow out of. they think of dating and romantic love, sometimes competing whenever two or more ppl like a new person, and we worry if someone views us as an object before they date us and it feels exhausting having to compete and knowing you “shouldn’t.” feeling fetishized but never adored, and also competed with. and i say this from a place of love, not bitterness bc we all felt that ourselves and it would’ve stayed hidden otherwise. it was so healing to discuss that we all felt this way.

#tw racism ment #also no one be stupid about this i’m talking abt being objectified for being black which my white friends will never experience #not to say they never experience being objectified

[lordsofthelake]

“people calling themselves mother witch is a red flag” there are literal white supremacists in this community 

#tw racism ment #this is an old convo at this point but Egad. #v #witchblr #ask to tag

[gayvampyr]

she just never knows when to shut the fuck up. hun put the typewriter down, your 15 minutes are over

#you’re obsolete #seriously does she even hear herself #r/pe tw #sa ment #jkr #transphobia #twitter #tweets #undescribed #no id #intersexism #racism #h slur #death threats #ableism

[antiradqueer]

why are people so mad about the burningradqueer acc

like bruh

it’s silly

its probably one of the most joke kinda blog to pop up in tags and prats are like "oh GOD the antis are so... so violent!!!" like please, youre in the nazi, racist, "transmurderer", "transstalker", "transschoolshooter", "transtripleK", "transTERF", predator supporting and sending gore and sexual threats to people you dont like community are you seriously gonna pull that shit talking about a joke blog when we all know what you assholes are genuinely cool with? like come on now

#anti radqueer #mod mew #tw nazi ment #tw nazi mention #nazi mention #nazi ment tw #racism tw #tw racism #i aint gonna call them trans anymore theyre just nazis #ask to tag #tw stalking

[doriandrifting]

White neoliberal queers will really advocate for genocide because the side committing the genocide seems more queer friendly on the surface. Yeah Israel’s so fucking progressive they’ll lock you in an open air concentration camp and bomb you to pieces with illegal white phosphorus in violation of the international laws of the Geneva Convention and the United Nations so they can resettle the land with colonizers 😍 And I guess it’s just fuck the queer people in Palestine because they had the sheer audacity to be born there and brown?

Some of ya’ll are heartless barbaric fucks, and I see exactly how your grandparents were picnicking during lynchings. I don’t want to hear some of ya’ll ever talk about queer liberation again. I’m done coddling ya’ll and explaining nicely when people are coming to my page to spew nothing but violent propaganda and advocate for ethnic cleansing. If you don’t know where you stand on genocide, you stand for nothing. You’re a weak mindless coward who only cares about politics when it’s convenient to you and your whiteness. I say that as a white first gen American who was taught from an early age from my father that no one lies better about history than white neoliberal Americans who have a fucking rot in their soul under their supposedly progressive values—“Just look at what they did to the people in Palestine. Look at what they did to the people on the land where we live. It is the same.” He said that to me at 6 years old, because he said he refused to lie about history even to a child. And some of ya’ll are sitting here in your 30s with not a critical thought in your head.

You are not bigger or more evolved than anyone for staying neutral or playing both sides in ethnic cleansing paid for by the United States. Neutrality is the most radical position you can hold in the face of everything happening. Tomorrow I may be kinder to you because I care about these oppressed people, and I know I have to educate the people in my own community. But today, I cannot be kind. Today I am horrified and sickened by a lot of ya’ll, and I don’t have the energy to pretend otherwise.

#they literally out queer Palestinians who ask them to stop killing them #y’all have rocks for brains #fuck Israel #TW: mention of hate crimes #TW: racism ment #and before anyone says anything about being hypocritical my father came here bc his country is impoverished and this is the Roman Empire #hoarding wealth and pillaging the world while pretending to be so modern and progressive

[real-total-drama-takes]

And if you kick every fat person off of total drama WHO will be the source of your fart jokes FreshTv? (Oh, that’s not…) In the sense that-

.

#tw racism ment #ASD;JFKHASDLKJFA #tw fatphobia ment #freshtv

[batmanshole]

“i wish DC explored that talia is a serial rapist more!” WELL I FUCKING DONT. that was incredibly racist characterization and threw out a ton of her already established character. augghhhhhh i hope everyone on this site DIES.

#rape tw #racism ment #and you KNOW there was other freak shit on this poll

[raaorqtpbpdy]

Suspended in Time and Space

For the Prompt: Wandering lost in the Ghost Zone, Valerie comes across a familiar sight, but this is not the Casper High she knows. Here the red of her suit sticks out like a beacon of color in a realm of black and white (but mostly white). Despite the hateful glares the ghosts throw her way, she knows this school stuck in the past holds the key to her way home, if only she can find it. [from @the-oaken-muse]

Read also on AO3

[Warnings for segregation era racism, canon-typical violence, and mentions of suicide]

It was official. Valerie hated the Ghost Zone.

Honestly, it wasn't much of a surprise considering how much she hated ghosts, but the whole place had always rubbed her the wrong way, and now that she'd been there for who knew how long, wandering around lost, she hated it with a fiery passion rivaled only by her hatred for Danny Phantom himself.

She couldn't remember exactly when the sparse scenery of floating islands, and doors had vanished, but she noticed when the sky turned from lime green to black as night, and speckled with stars that didn't match any constellations she knew, not that she knew all that many, admittedly.

She tried to turn around. She might know know exactly where she was or which way she was going, but she knew the Fenton Portal that she'd chased that wily ghost through before it disappeared came out into a green expanse, not the night sky. But when she turned around, the green behind her was gone.

Every direction she looked was dark sky and stars.

She didn't remember even flying into it, just noticing immediately when the color of her surroundings had suddenly changed. Now, it seemed like she was trapped, with no way out of the vast, inescapable dark night, and back to the vast, inescapable green of the rest of the Ghost Zone.

She tried of course. She picked a direction and pushed her hoverboard as fast as it would go, but she never reached the end of the darkness.

After... well... she didn't know how long it was exactly. Time was impossible to gauge in this place. But after a while, she finally came across seemingly the only thing floating in the night.

More unexpected than finding something in what she had thought was an empty nothingness realm in the Ghost Zone, was finding something so familiar. It wasn't just another door, or another random building on a floating rock, or a strange landmark floating in the void. It was a school. Valerie's school.

Curiously, she steered her hoverboard towards it to get a closer look.

It was Casper High, but it wasn't the Casper High she knew. There were no colors. Here, the glowing red of her suit was practically a beacon, a bright, neon sign in a realm of black and white.

Mostly white, she amended in her mind when she looked through the windows and saw the student body. The hall was crowded with students, but they were all white kids, every single one of them, and not just because they were in monochrome colors. She examined all their features, the shades of gray, and didn't spot a single person of color in the bunch. And Casper High wasn't the most diverse school, even now, now but it was way more so than this place.

However, she also noticed in her examination, that the clothes and hairstyles worn by the students she saw were... outdated to say the least. They looked like they were straight out of the fifties. And, based on the fact that this was the Ghost Zone, it didn't seem like much of a stretch to think they actually were.

Whatever the time period, however, this was still Casper High, and if Valerie wanted to get back to Amity Park in the real world, she had a strong feeling that this place held the key to get there.

She flew around to one of the school's back entrances in the hopes of drawing as little attention as possible. Thankfully, no one seemed to be there. With a tap of her heels and her hover-board stowed itself. Now, she just had to find her way home.

The question was, if this school really was trapped in the nineteen-fifties, how was she supposed to search it. Ruby Bridges had to have police escort her to school because people threw rocks at her, and she was a six-year-old at the time. The Little Rock nine were similarly harassed and threatened. And all that was after the courts mandated the girls be allowed to attend.

This version of Casper High was pretty obviously still segregated, but even if it wasn't, there was little doubt that no one here would take too kindly to her presence.

Valerie was strong, determined, thick-skinned, and a ninth-degree black belt, so she was pretty sure she'd be able to handle herself until she found the way back to Amity Park. She only wanted to get through this as painlessly as possible. At the very least, she should try and get with the fashion. Maybe she couldn't look like she belonged at this school—even though she was a registered student there in the real world—but she could at least look like she belonged in this time.

As stealthily as possible, she made her way to the school theater.

Everything was exactly where she expected it to be. Evidently, the school building hadn't changed much in the last fifty years. Unfortunately, she didn't find any 50s clothes in the costume storage. She supposed that made a certain amount of sense. If these students needed 50s clothes for a play, they would just wear their own clothes, or borrow their parents'.

Still, she supposed she could make do with what was there. Then at least she wouldn't have to choose between her ghost hunting outfit, the short-shorts she had underneath, or the mini-skirt she had to change into—all three of which would have been equally scandalous in the fifties.

With some minor modifications, she was able to turn the even-older-fashioned clothes into a decent approximation of what a standard 1950s high school girl would wear. The fabrics these costumes were made of were a lot nicer and more sturdy than most of what the drama club had nowadays. Go figure.

When she stepped into the halls, it took a few seconds for ghostly students to notice her, but as soon as they did, she was met with glares. Every face watched her with some variation of a hateful expression, anger, disgust. None of them seemed to notice anything off about her clothes, at least, so there was the silver lining.

She ignored them. There wasn't much else she could do at the moment besides ignore them. So far all they were doing was glaring at her, and she could handle dirty looks. She knew this school stuck in the past held her way back home. She just had to find it.

She stiffened when one of the students yelled a slur at her and told her to 'go home to the ghetto', and she just about ran up and kicked him in the crotch, but she held herself back and held her head high. She could handle insults too, even if they were foul.

With a stoic, disinterested look on her face, she tried to make her way down the hallway, but two burly boys blocked her path, presumably football players, judging by their Letterman jackets.

"Let me pass," she said coldly.

"And how are you gonna make us?" one of them asked,

Her lips quirked up in something close to a smile.

"I'm happy to show you."

They were ghosts, so she couldn't just hit them, since her fists would pass right through. She called her suit down her arms and hands under her long-sleeved shirt. Her fingers glowed like they had glowing red veins which thrummed with the sort of energy that let her punch a ghost directly in his face.

She imagined knocking this bastard's jaw clean off and took a swing at him with all her strength.

He instantly fell backwards, landing on the floor, unconscious. His buddy reacted quickly, trying to punch her back, but he swung so wide she saw it coming a mile away and ducked. As his fist passed her by, she saw his class ring, upon which the year was engraved: 1955. Good to know.

She punched him in the stomach, the knee, and then the jaw like his buddy, and sent him falling prone.

"You asked," Valerie pointed out as she stepped over the two of them while the handful of other students in the hall watch on, not daring to get involved.

God, that was satisfying, Valerie thought to herself.

There were plenty of racists in her time, too, but few were so open about it that she could beat the shit out of them and still come out looking like the good guy. Of course, it probably didn't seem like she was the good guy to the most likely equally racist ghosts in the hallway, but she sure felt like she was.

Honestly, though, she should be trying to draw less attention to herself. She let her suit recede so that her hands were bare, and bent her knees under her wide, mid-calf-length skirt just enough so that her face wouldn't be at eye level for most of the other students as she walked by, and most people would only see her black hair unless they were looking. In that manner, she made her way down the halls, turning her back when she noticed anyone starting to look too closely at her.

These people were just a product of their time, and beating them up wouldn't change their minds about her. It was a waste of time that could be put to better use finding her way back home. An extremely gratifying waste of time, but a waste of time nonetheless.

It had been almost an hour since she first got here, and everyone was still wandering the hallways, carrying books, and pencils, like normal students, but not entering any of the classrooms. Was there just no actual class in this place? What was the point of a school with no classes?

Come to think of it, she hadn't seen any teachers either, or any faculty of any kind. She looked through the window of the principal's office as she passed by, but no one was inside. The administration office next to it also appeared to be empty. The school was brimming with students, but... no teachers. No adults at all. Why?

Something was up with this place, and she had a feeling if she found out what it was, she'd find her way home. There had to be some kind of reason Casper High was here. She should start by figuring that out. And how would she do that?

She... didn't really know. Maybe a look at the yearbook would show her if there were any noteworthy Casper High students attending at this time. Or... more likely, a Casper High student that had died. Luckily, Valerie was on the yearbook team—or had been before she'd quit so she could get an after-school job—and she knew where all the old yearbooks were kept. Provided, of course, that they were kept in the same place back in the fifties that they were in 2005.

"This place has been so boring since Poindexter left," Valerie overheard a girl saying. "I mean, I proud of him and all—and I can't blame him for cutting-out when he had the chance, I would have too if I could, but I'm just washed out from this place."

Poindexter? Why did Valerie recognize that name? She shrugged and kept walking. Maybe the yearbooks would answer that question.

Casper High, it seemed, was not all that big on updating or renovating because Valerie found the yearbooks exactly where she expected to. Unsurprisingly, the classroom was empty. It seemed like none of the students had any interest in going inside them when there weren't any classes, and she couldn't exactly blame them. The yearbooks themselves were actually more organized then she remembered them being in the present. All lined up on the shelf by graduation year and everything.

She took the most recent one off the shelf and flipped through it to the class photos. She recognized a lot of the faces in the yearbook as students she'd seen in the hallways. But they hadn't all died. If an entire graduating class had somehow died at the school, Valerie was pretty sure she would know about it. Probably the school would have been shut down, too.

But if they hadn't died, then what were they all doing here?

Then she got to the end of the yearbook, and she saw it.

On one of the last pages, an obituary had been clipped from the newspaper and included in the yearbook, along with handwritten well-wishes, mostly from teachers, but it looked like a few students had written them too.

Sidney Ian Poindexter January 9, 1938 - March 10, 1955

At just seventeen years old, the young Mr. Poindexter threw himself from the roof of his school, taking his own life. A suicide note found in his pocket cited "unbearable an unrelenting bullying" as the primary reason for the jump.

Sidney was a bright student, a gentle soul, and a beloved son to John and Mary-Lynn Poindexter, and younger brother to Malcolm Poindexter, a family by whom he is remembered.

His funeral service will be held on Sunday, March 13. His family asks that in lieu of flowers, please teach the children and young people in your life just how harmful bullying and bigotry can be, and urge them to be kind, even to those who are different from them, and whom they may not understand.

The handwritten messages were mostly apologies, for bullying him, for not helping him, for letting it happen and never saying a word. Valerie scowled at them. Seemed like an empty gesture to apologize to someone after they were already dead, especially when you were the ones who drove them to it. Too little, too late.

She remembered the story now. Back in the 50s, some poor kid named Poindexter had been bullied so mercilessly and relentlessly by the Casper High student body, they said picking on him was a graduation requirement. That is, until he committed suicide jumping off the roof of the school.

The story went that he'd been shoved in his locker so many times then when he died, his soul was shoved inside it, too, and he haunted his locker to this day.

If that was true, then maybe this was the Ghost Zone inside Poindexter's locker, where his soul was trapped. In which case... maybe finding his locker would mean finding her way out. It was a promising lead, but there was just one problem. For the life of her, Valerie couldn't remember which locker was the one Poindexter supposedly haunted.

Damn... she was gonna have to ask somebody, wasn't she?

With deep sigh, she put the yearbook back where she'd found it and stepped out of the classroom. This hallway didn't have as many people as some of the others she'd passed through. She sized up the people in the hall and the way they were all looking at her, and walked up to the one who seemed the least aggressive, a girl with curly blonde hair that looked more nervous than hateful, a refreshing change, if not exactly better by much.

"Sorry to bother you," Valerie said, keeping her tone even and apologetic and her body language as open and pacifying as possible. "My name is Valerie, and I was wondering if you might be able to tell me Sidney Poindexter's locker number?"

"Um..." the blonde girl said, but Valerie never got to hear if she was actually going to answer, because a tall, dark-haired girl who must've been her friend stepped between them.

"If you're so sorry, then don't bother her in the first place," the second girl sneered.

Then she spat.

Directly onto Valerie's face.

And Valerie lost it. She wiped her face off with her long sleeve and activated her ghost hunting suit under her clothes, calling it to cover everything but her face so this bitch could see exactly how angry she was. She grabbed the girl by the collar and slammed her against the wall. She was a good four inches taller than Valerie, but it didn't make a difference.

"You think you can talk to me like that?" Valerie shouted, slamming her against the wall again. "You think you can treat me like that? Think again you hussy! I take no shit, not from you or anyone."

A pair of boys came over and grabbed Valerie to pull her off the girl, but she was having none of it.

"Don't fucking touch me!" she jeered, kicking them in the knees to make them drop her. "I was just tryna have a polite conversation with this girl and you spit on me? You grab me? I'm startin' to think the only decent people in this era are the parents who wrote Poindexter's obituary, but apparently you all have never read it."

One of the boys got up and tried to grab her again, but she slammed the heel of her palm into the underside of his jaw before he could get his arms around her and he fell back.

"I've had enough of you people," she scoffed. "I'll just try every locker until I find it."

With that, she stormed off down the hall, heedless of the looks she was getting. All she had to do was stomp and jeer at anyone who dared to get close to her. She was not gonna be some passive victim like Poindexter was. If they thought they could pull shit with her, they'd better think again.

She started with locker number 001, hoping that going in order would save some time by keeping her from accidentally checking the same section twice. Unfortunately, she had no idea what she was looking for. She was kind of hoping that if she opened the right locker, there would be a swirling green portal inside, like the portal she'd come through. Unfortunately, she had no such luck.

She punched out two more assholes by the time the ghosts all finally seemed to get the message that they were better off leaving her alone. She'd finally gotten into the 100s when they started gasping and turning around to go another way when they saw her. Good.

She was on locker 176 when someone finally had the courage to come down the hallway and face her.

"If you're here to pick a fight, I'm happy to oblige," Valerie said, not looking to see who it was as she slammed the locker door to 176 shut.

"No!" a girls voice squeaked behind her.

Valerie turned to see the blonde girl she'd approached earlier standing there, holding up her books to protect her face.

"Relax," Valerie told her. "I don't punch unless provoked."

Slowly, cautiously, the girl lowered her books so Valerie could see her face. "You said your name was Valerie, right?" she asked. "I'm Emily-May, but everyone just calls me Emmy."

"Nice to meet you, Emmy," Valerie said. "Nicer than meeting most folks here has been, anyway."

"You're in color," Emmy noted.

Valerie raised her eyebrow, apparently prompting Emmy to catch the double meaning and quickly correct herself.

"No I just mean, you're not in black and white like the rest of us. You look... real."

"I am real," Valerie said. "I'm human, and I'm trying to get home."

"Is that why you're looking for Poindexter's locker?" Emmy asked.

"Yeah," Valerie confirmed. "I'm pretty sure Poindexter's locker is my way home, but I can't remember what number it was... can you help me?"

Emmy nodded. "Poindexter's locker was number 724," she said. "But Poindexter's not here anymore, and he was the only one who knew how to get out through it."

"I'll just have to figure it out on my own, then," Valerie said, resigned. "Thank you, Emmy, truly."

Emmy smiled. "I haven't forgotten what was in Poindexter's obituary," she said. "Nobody deserves as bad as he got, it makes no nevermind who they are, but you've been getting that and worse, and it's not fair."

"It's not," Valerie agreed, rather proud of Emmy, even though she was kind of stating the obvious in Valerie's opinion, it was obviously a revelation to her. "If you don't mind, there's one more thing I'm curious about."

"Lay it on me."

"Poindexter was the only one of your class who died, so why are you all here?"

"We're not," Emmy said. "Well, what I mean is, I'm not actually the ghost of Emily-May Peterson. I'm just a conjuration of Poindexter's memories of the real Emmy, back when he went to school with her. This whole place was conjured out of Poindexter's memories, and his emotions about all of us."

"Is that why everybody's so cruel?" Valerie asked. "Because he remembers you all as the bullies that drove him to suicide?"

"That's part of it, but a lot of us were just as cruel in real life as Poindexter remembered us," Emmy admitted with a melancholy shrug. "The only difference is, out in the real world, we had the chance to learn and change, but in here, nothing changes.

"I hope the real Emmy changed. Even in Poindexter's memories, I'm not as bad as everybody else is, but I'm too afraid to go against their bullying when anyone can see me. I hope the real Emmy stopped being such a square and got brave."

Valerie looked her up and down and nodded thoughtfully.

"Emily-May Peterson, right?" she said. "Once I'm out of here, I'll look you up and see how much you changed."

Emmy lit up. "Would you?"

"Why not?"

"Oh, then let's bust you out of here,"

Valerie smiled, and the two of them hurried through the halls toward locker 724, and for once, it seemed like Emmy didn't mind people seeing her going against the status quo as she went along with Valerie the whole way.

Once they got there, the crowded hallway quickly cleared out. Valerie was quietly proud of herself for getting an entire school to unilaterally fear her in a matter of hours. That said—or thought, rather—she couldn't wait to be back in the real world.

She quickly opened up locker 724. Even though she didn't know the combo, she knew a trick that would open any locker in the school, and it worked just as well in 1955 as it did fifty years later. She turned the dial ten times to the left, then three times to the right, then slammed her fist against the door and it popped right open.

Eagerly, she looked inside the locker... but there was no swirling green vortex waiting to take her home. It looked just like any of the other lockers, dirty, with a couple of books and a single personal decoration, a round mirror hanging in the back. A broken mirror, at that.

"I told you, only Poindexter knew how to split through his locker," Emmy said apologetically. "I wish I could help you more."

"That's alright, Emmy, you've helped plenty," Valerie assured her. "I'll take it from here."

"Alright, if you say so," Emmy said, and headed down the hallway, leaving Valerie to figure out the secrets of the haunted locker on her own.

The textbooks were for history and math, and neither held any clue as to how to get out. She pushed against the walls of the locker, but nothing so much as budged, so clearly that wasn't the trick.

Upon closer inspection, however, the mirror hanging in the locker wasn't actually broken. It looked broken, but when she carefully moved her hand over the glass, it was smooth and perfectly intact. It seemed like this side was in perfect condition, but somehow... the backside was broken, or the inside... or the other side. Maybe this was a Through the Looking Glass situation, Valerie thought.

She reached into the locker and pressed both hands against the mirror as hard as she could. After a moment, she fell right through. There was no way she should have fit through the mirror. It was only about ten-inches in diameter and she was... more than ten inches in diameter... especially around the hips. But it didn't even feel like a tight squeeze as she tumbled out of the locker on the other side and found herself in the Casper High of 2005.

A sigh of relief escaped her and she pushed herself to her feet.

The hallway was empty, but the clock read 6pm, so that made sense. Unlike the Casper High in the Ghost Zone, the students at this one could actually leave when school was over, and Valerie followed their lead, dropping off her borrowed 50s costume in the lost-and-found on her way out.

She did look up Emily-May Peterson when she had the chance. Her name was Emily-May Barton now. She'd joined the civil rights movement in 1959, and married a black man named Robert Barton in 1967, shortly after it was legalized. They had three children, one of whom was a lesbian with the full support of her entire family. Emmy was 65 years old now, and still lived in Amity Park with her husband, both of them retired.

Valerie wrote it all down, and taped the piece of paper on the 2005 side of Poindexter's mirror, hoping that Emmy might be able to see it. Valerie was proud of her. She'd managed to 'stop being such a square and get brave' after all, just like 1955 her from Poindexter's memories had hoped.

#dp #danny phantom #valerie gray #phic phight #phic phight 24 #things i wrote #fic #racism tw #violence #suicide ment

[angelsaxis]

IDF soldiers are posting photos of themselves in Gazans homes and with Palestinian hostages to their dating profile apps to increase their chances of getting laid and it's working. Israeli women see the uniform, they see the gun and the racist genocidal violence, and they go "that's hot." Ultimately I don't think I'm surprised but I can't even wrap my head around this fully, I don't think. The military worship in Israel is even worse than in the US and there's such a free for all of sexual violence and dehumanization in Israel and the OPT that supporters are just ignoring in favor of aiding a genocidal state that by now is known for:

- harboring pedophiles who flee the US

- having soldiers who frequently go on panty raids in Gazan women's underwear drawers

- persistent, consistent stripping of male hostages/prisoners/detainees, including children

- using rape as a weapon to control, brutalize, and dehumanize palestinian women. Which has been happening for decades but was also brought into the social media news stream because of the systematic rape at Al-Shifa recently

Add to this that israelis sexual propaganda beauty standards are clearly just white supremacist in nature. Their "gun waifu" is a blonde haired, blue eyed white woman who positions herself at a forced low angle and says "do I look like I could hurt anyone?" (Another point for pedophilia ig)

Israeli society and culture is so sexually racist and regressive and fucking bizarre in general. The haaretz article that talks about this says that talking about Gaza/being a soldier "adds tension". One woman noted that having sex has been hard because of the anxiety but that doing it with a soldier helps? Or something.

And this ALSO reminds me of that one hostage w the insane lip filler who wasn't raped by Hamas and kept trying to frame that as a bad thing, as a guarantee that she otherwise avoided? "The gunmen didn't rape me because his wife was outside the room" and "his wife hated the fact that we were in the same room. I would've like a hug woman to woman but his wife hated me" (paraphrase) like her even expecting comfort from a Palestinian woman shows how little Israelis view Palestinians as humans but this also just another point in the i don't know WHAT of Israeli psychosexuality and Israeli culture in general

#angel posts #rape tw #rape ment #gaza #Israel #racism tw #ask to tag

[joeybarnacles]

A beautiful sign from the CDC museum.

#aids history #aids epidemic #queer history #lgbt history #gay history #tw homophobia #tw racism #drug ment tw #tw aids

[bli-o]

Warning//talk about SA and racism

i wont lie, i’ve noticed some more-than-weird behaviors when it comes to people who’re… unnormal about hobie. i get that part, he’s the best character(my opinion is the only one) and he is very pretty, but i mean like, apart from being down bad—

i’ve seen some people headcanoning that he’d be non-consensually overly touchy or even predatory. which… one, his age is pretty damn ambiguous, and while i’ve taken the neutral “idk” approach about his age, he always came off as a teenager to me, and when character ages are ambiguous i think putting them in sexual contexts is…euuuick—

two, know this is coming from a white person w/ absolutely 0 experience with racial bias, but it smells very racey. like. *potently* racey. it absolutely reeks of stereotypes perpetuated against black men. hell, he’s a fucking anarchist, he’s all about individual autonomy. there is no way he would violate a person’s consent. it makes you wonder where they got a predatory impression of him from

fandom discourse scares me (especially with the hobie’s age schism. I have seen men die /j) so i ask anyone interacting to leave everyone here with their limbs please and thank you🙏🙏

#atsv #across the spiderverse #across the spider verse #atsv thoughts #hobie brown #atsv hobie #hobie spiderverse #hobie atsv #spiderpunk #hobart brown #astv #atsv rant #across the spiderverse rant #tw racism #cw racism #tw sa mention #cw sa mention #tw sa ment #cw sa ment #blios rants #blio spiderman