people talk about the danger of violence or overt sexuality in children’s entertainment, but i swear that nothing, nothing fucked me up as badly as the totally family-friendly, g-rated trope of “woman who is not traditionally attractive flirts with our male lead; aren’t her romantic and/or sexual desires inherently disgusting, and thus hilarious?”
and like, at least when i was growing up, it was everywhere: disney movies, saturday morning cartoons–i think it was maybe even more common in stuff aimed at kids, because when you’re not allowed to go blue, there are fewer ways to get a lazy, cheap laugh.
i was freckle-faced and chubby as a kid (both, of course, common cartoon shorthand for “this girl is hideous”), and i literally cannot remember being too young to feel bad about how i looked. i’m sure my baby fat didn’t bother me when i was an actual baby, but my body issues are at least as old as my conscious memory. thank god i had access to feminism and cultural criticism from a comically young age; it rarely protected me from pain but at least i’d heard that it was wrong to send a message that beautiful princesses are protagonists and ugly girls are punchlines.
(as if we have to earn the right to even just want romantic love, to even just feel something for somebody else, as if we have to cash in tiny noses and perfect lips and tiny bodies like fucking arcade tokens before our heartsong is anything but a mean joke)
and granted, there were other issues at play; i’m not pinning all my baggage on, say, that part in aladdin where the fat lady with a gap in her teeth catches him while he’s running for his life and sings that she thinks he’s “rather tasty” and aladdin’s face is all “UGH, OH NOOO,” but i swear i didn’t start to internalize “no decent human being would be grossed out by your romantic interest, or even just find it so ludicrous as to be funny” until about six years ago
and i am five fucking days away from turning thirty
You know what, I’m sick of good bisexual characters being few and far between. I want a bisexual character who isn’t the slutty stereotype. I want a nerdy bisexual character. A quirky bisexual character. A theater geek bisexual character. A bisexual bad boy and bad boy as in doesn’t put up with teachers pandering to the rich stuck up kids and protects those who can’t protect themselves. A bisexual girl next door type. Something other than the ‘slut’ or someone’s punching bag or the punchline. I want more characters than just Brittany, Rich, and Hanschen who are the ditzy promiscuous one, the school bully who has an epiphany after being hospitalized, and the charming fourteen year old who’s always spun as an evil seductress out to corrupt innocent little gay boys. Make multifaceted bisexual characters you cowards.
“Tell me more.” - La Coccinelle, a past Miraculous holder for Inktober day 30.
I really like her design; I love her hair! I referenced the photo in Season 2′s episode 4 episode and Feri Gonzalez’s illustration. Really loving Season 2 so far, it feels like the animation is a lot smother or clearer.
Dick didn’t mean to get nostalgic, but sometimes it happened— the Manor was like that. It was hard to walk through a decade of memories without feeling them, especially when everything looked the same. Of course it did. Bruce didn’t like it when things changed on him.
Dick ran a hand over the kitchen counters as he passed, up onto the wall and across the room. Yeah, exactly the way he remembered, minus Alfred at the stove. He was out today, probably at the grocery store or waiting in a middle school parking lot somewhere. It was about that time.
His circled the kitchen until his fingers hit the doorframe and stuck on the tape measure glued alongside the wood– right on top of his own name written in Bruce’s handwriting, accompanied by a date six years old. He’d been awfully small back then, hadn’t he? Dick bent down to read the very bottom of the chart, smiling a little bit at the memory. He would have been eight back then. He made Bruce mark his own height on the wall the first time, even though Bruce had protested that he already knew how tall he was. But that wasn’t the point, and he’d given in eventually.
That mark was still there: the highest one on the wall. Dick remembered staring at it every time he got measured, pleased by the way the gap closed as he grew taller, wondering if it would ever close entirely. It didn’t. Dick had stopped growing four inches beneath Bruce’s 6’2.
He was trying not to take that metaphorically.
Measure up, he thought. Funny. He paused over the only thing about the kitchen that had changed— the two marks on the height wall that said Jason (half an inch and three months apart) and wondered if Jason stared at Bruce’s mark too. Or maybe even Dick’s.
Good luck, Dick thought, and left.
Tim understood why Bruce was angry, although “angry” might have been the wrong word. He was upset really, but on Bruce upset and angry looked the same— like slamming doors and punches that were just a little bit too hard. Like not looking Tim in the eye, but staring at him when he thought he wouldn’t notice.
He noticed. Hard not to.
You didn’t do anything wrong, he reminded himself, and Bruce knows that. He’ll get over it in a few days. He always does.
Until then, Tim figured it was best to stay out of the way. He was hiding out in the kitchen, well away from Bruce, staring at the cause of this month’s episode: the growth chart in by the door, specifically two marks labeled Tim and Jason. Tim’s mark was higher. That made it official— he was taller than Jason had ever been.
Bruce must have seen that coming, but maybe plain seeing it was harder. Tim didn’t blame him for being upset or angry or whatever he was— maybe feeling upset made him angry?— especially when he felt guilty himself. He didn’t mean to outgrow Jason, by any definition. He was just… growing. By himself.
Shouldn’t that be a good thing?
Yes. But that didn’t mean it was good for Bruce.
Tim tapped aimlessly on the kitchen table, searching for the source of the guilt he could feel eating through his chest. He hadn’t done anything wrong. He was doing his best to minimize the problem. What else was there?
It was perfectly reasonable for Bruce to be upset. Jason was his son— a more important person than Tim, who was not— and death was hard to handle. Tim knew that. More important. Jason was more important.
Tim wished he wasn’t. He hated himself for wishing that.
me, laying on my side and staring at the wall, having not moved for 2 hours: victor nikiforov literally didn’t do a single wrong thing in all of yoi canon and he deserves the world for being such a gentle and kind angel