or even as fully human

One thing guaranteed to make me enraged is watching the rightwing capitalists arguing with the liberal capitalists about whether poor people are just naturally inferior and deficient or if environmental factors make poor people inferior and deficient.

It’s like they can’t even fucking imagine that poor people might be equal and just as fully human as wealthy people and yet somehow still be poor people.  Or that a situation can be stressful, hard, and damaging without that meaning that people would no longer be in that situation if they would stop acting so traumatized by it.

And yes, liberal capitalists, this does mean I am totally fucking uninterested in hearing your pet theories about how poor people just can’t be sensible and stop being poor because poverty makes our brains stunted or some shit like that.  It’s not substantially different from rightwingers insisting that poor people are genetically inferior, in that both just accept the idea that the poor must be inferior to the rich and must be doing something wrong or we’d no longer be poor.  And in practice both are used as excuses for patronizing social control towards poor people.

The fans: Yo so Sanji’s siblings are all definitely blonde. Like, it would just not make sense if they weren’t, you know? Especially since the Straw Hats confused Yonji for Sanji. Like, that wouldn’t make sense if they weren’t all blonde, right?

Oda: *watching Power Rangers one morning while eating a bowl of Fruit Loops, probably* I have the most brilliant idea!

Later that day:

Shounen Jump: ……….what did you do?

One of the things which stood out to me in Beast’s cgi was that in multiple scenes the team took the time to animate some of the buttons on his coats undone. It was almost every other button! It was such a cleaver way to show beast trying to be human and being unable to even fully dress himself with his claws. This movie had a million tiny details. It was incredible!

at some point you stopped saying ghost powers and started saying ghost half and you can’t remember when

anonymous asked:

hey alice! i wanted to ask you if it's ok that my sexuality seems to fluctuate?? i don't mean to say that one moment i'd identify as being gay and the next i'd be straight. but although i used to feel comfortable with being pansexual, i find that the sense of belonging i once knew is no longer there and i feel more comfortable saying i'm aegosexual/panromantic (is that even a thing?). i just feel confused is all and i thought you would understand.

of course it’s okay!! sexuality is a concept that humans don’t even fully understand yet!!! we have no idea what it is or why it happens!!! it can be anything! you can use labels or you can not if you don’t want to!! whatever makes you feel good and safe and okay!!!!! everything is fine!!!!!!!!

I love every single one of you. I love you. And love is the only thing, the only thing, I can hold onto right now as I go to sleep. 

You all matter. You are all important. You are valued. And you are loved.

Nothing, no president of our country, no horrifying majority no matter how loud, will ever stop me from telling you that you are loved and that you matter.

anonymous asked:

What did you learn from Malachite today?

that im completely screwed

i kept trying to fool myself that this was just a spell or enchantment or whatever, but that just

not true. i know that its not true because i can’t even fucking say it, because i’m not fully human anymore, and its just going to get worse and worse andworse and maybe i won’t even remember that i was ever human. maybe i wont even care. 

malachite made a deal to learn what i gave up in exchange for cola’s freedom, to get him out of the underhill and then i remembered

im such a fucking idiot

i mean it was worth it, i couldnt just let Them take him, i care so much about my friends and he was the first friend i made at eu, i couldnt have just left him there to dance until he couldnt move anymore, id give up myself a thousand times to keep others safe but i just

it was so stupid!!! if i had just not let him come along to the revels, none of this would have happened, everything would have been fine and i would have been fine and cola would have been fine but NO now im changing and one day im going to look in the mirror and not recognize myself

i dont want to be gentry! i dont want to be one of Them, i want to be me, i want to be human

but i traded that away a week ago, and now its too late

brokenklefki  asked:

buy a vowel!!! the ray pieces ALL deserve their own existence.

Absolutely! Aside from Serena’s early carding shenanigans, none of the girls did anything wrong. And their ultimate fate was initiated by someone who didn’t even see them as fully human. Talk about fucked up.

But irl, plenty of people suffer fates that they absolutely don’t deserve. The outrage is justified, but I do think that was the point of having the girls remain fused. 

On being too non-literal.


A lot of autism “experts” claim that autistic people are too literal. They start with real behavior–

  • many interpret language literally, and do not understand other people’s people’s sarcasm or metaphor. 
  • some do not engage in narrative or pretend play when very young; they line up objects instead.

–But then these “experts” claim that autistic people lack the ability to understand symbols (that one thing can stand for something else). An ability that they think makes people fully human. (Dehumanization alert).

Obviously, most of this is nonsense. Most autistic people can understand and use symbols, even if they do so unconventionally. And even if they could not, they would still be fully human. But I want to talk about the other, more subtle assumption: that symbolizing and being non-literal help you socialize.

Because my own experience suggests the opposite. You can be too nonliteral, and it can hurt you socially.

I was as nonliteral as you could get. I don’t remember ever playing with objects as they were. Everything stood for something else. That yellow block with visible wood grain in it? It was a piece of cornbread, not a building material. Even when a toy didn’t stand for something else it resembled, it was a prop in a story. One of the many objects I got obsessed with was a rose that decorated our table at a Chinese restaurant. I brought it home and watched it dry, tortured by the fact I was watching it die, and told a story about that. (It dried beautifully, by the way, and I kept it for years). 

Every game I played as a child was a story. I would act out stories with my Happy meal toys, my dinosaur figurines, my dolls, and my own body–filled with good fairies and wicked queens. When I drew, I drew scenes standing for stories, a panel per page comic-book style, telling the story out loud as I scribbled. When I played with other children, I wanted them to help me act out the stories I wanted to tell. They rarely wanted to do so, either because they wanted the story to go in a different direction or they just wanted to play. I would get angry. Adults told me I was “bossy.” I wasn’t bossy because I was a girl with leadership qualities, as a lot of people on Tumblr would assume. I was bossy because I wanted to direct my own drama, my peers wouldn’t cooperate, and I wasn’t willing to compromise. Needless to say, I wasn’t popular.

I was also too emotionally invested in my stories to relate to my classmates. When I was four and in preschool, I decided to pretend to be a mother hen and sit on some eggs from the toy kitchen. All was well until some classmates decided they wanted to cook some eggs. So they tried taking them from me (I can’t remember if they succeeded. Probably). I felt as if my own children were being taken from me and cried bitterly. Made such a scene that my teachers told my parents about it. They might even have sent me home; I don’t remember. I was too busy being upset about my “children” being taken from me and trying to get them back to notice this sort of detail.

I was obsessed with fairies, which to me, were a metaphor for the sense of wonder I often felt. I would watch snowflakes fall, gracefully and silently, and call them “snow fairies” because they seemed magical to me. I was four years old when a classmate told me, in a superior way, that “there was no such thing as fairies.” This child thought I was a fool for believing in them. He missed the point. Of course I knew that fairies were imaginary, just like I knew I wasn’t really a mother hen. I thought he was the fool, but I never found the words to explain why even to myself until recently. Here’s why: imagining things is a game. Of course you know it’s a game, but you spoil it if you say so. I knew that at some level when I was four. My peers didn’t. But to them (at the tender age of four), I was a naive fool who “still believed in fairies.”

Furthermore, even though I knew fairies weren’t real and I wasn’t really a mother hen, the associated emotions were just as real as the emotions triggered by real life. My peers and teachers wrongly thought I didn’t know the difference between fantasy and reality. That’s because they only saw two possibilities: being unmoved by fantasy, or not knowing the difference between fantasy and reality. They didn’t understand that you are supposed to have emotional investment in fantasy. Stories are vicarious experience. The point of role playing and consuming stories is to empathize, to understand what it’s like to be someone or something else. If you don’t feel, and feel deeply, you’re doing it wrong. The real problem was that I didn’t have the emotional maturity yet to react in a socially acceptable way. 

Being a girl, and a highly agreeable one at that, when I was angry or felt like things were unfair, I didn’t run or fight. I cried. I spent a lot of time crying under furniture. My teachers worried and tutted to my parents about how I would manage in kindergarten. They were charmed and confused at the same time. They admired my reading, writing and speaking ability, but knew I couldn’t fit in. They wanted to fix me, and told my parents I was socially immature.

You might listen to all this and think, “maybe she was nonliteral, maybe she understood language, but she didn’t understand her peers, so obviously she didn’t have theory of mind.” Not at all. True, I didn’t understand my peers, who liked different things, reacted differently to most situations, and had almost the opposite strengths and weaknesses from me. Furthermore, like most children, I didn’t realize I was different yet. But it wasn’t because I lacked a “theory of mind.” 

How do I know? One day when I was four, my father wrote down a conversation we had that day. (I know it happened and how old I was at the time because he included the date). He was pretending to be a silly character who hid his head and said, “If I can’t see you, you can’t see me.” (He often played logic games with me because they made me laugh, and I loved explaining to a grownup why he was being silly). In response, I hid my head and asked, “Can you see me?” He replied, “yes.” I said, just as he could see me–even though I couldn’t see him and thought he couldn’t see me–I could see him–even though he couldn’t see me and thought I couldn’t see him. “That’s a proof,” I said. Not the Sally and Anne task exactly, but lots of complicated syntax, predicting his perspective, and comparing it to my own. Probably more complicated in terms of language, logic, and perspective taking than most theory of mind tasks, to be honest, and I did it spontaneously. Surprised the hell out of my dad. My father, by the way, was impressed because I understood the concept of a proof and came up with my own–not because of the advanced language and theory of mind involved.

Fast forward seven years. I was eleven and in school for the first time. I was at a private school for gifted children. I had no friends. I wasn’t quite at the bottom, but there were only two or three children below me. I was an outcast at a school for misfits. When I finally did make friends there, it was with the other outcasts. Since, I have been isolated and rejected by most people I’ve met. I’ve made a few close friends along the way. All of them have been different in some way. Most have long thought of themselves as “weird.” Many were also outcasts. 

My nonliteral way of thinking is still holding me back as an adult. My speech is peppered with metaphors and analogies. When was the last time you heard those at a casual conversation at a bar or a work event?  I can talk to you for hours about your life story, the meaning of life, or arcane scientific topics. But I struggle to talk about real-world things, like sports, the weather, or places my conversational partner and I have been. I have trouble even learning about these things in the first place. 

I can’t talk about movies right because–if I manage to overcome my audio and visual processing problems enough to understand what’s going on–I get sucked into the story. I don’t notice special effects or celebrity cameos. I even recognize celebrities backwards (when I do so at all). For example, I think of Sarah Michelle Gellar and her associated roles as Buffy, not vice versa. Think about how many conversations revolve around movies and actors, and you’ll understand why I have trouble participating in conversations with most people.

It’s not that I think my topics are more valuable just because they’re more abstract and some people say they’re “deeper.” I think real-world topics are valuable, if only because they interest other people. But I just can’t think and speak about them the way most people do. Between my non-literal thinking and my disabilities, my brain just doesn’t work that way.

So, to autism “experts,” I’d like to make a counterproposal.

Like emotional empathy and just about every other human trait, non-literalness is only good in moderation. More isn’t better. Too much can make you a social outcast, just as too little can.

TL;DR: Autism “experts” say that being non-literal is good and makes you socially successful. But too much can make you a social outcast. 

[I’m tagging @withasmoothroundstone in this because she is often on the literal extreme and I want to know what she thinks].

Nothing so fortifies a friendship as a belief on the part of one friend that he is superior to the other.

Honoré de Balzac (1799 - 1850), French novelist and playwright. His magnum opus was a sequence of short stories and novels collectively entitled La Comédie Humaine, which presents a panorama of French life in the years after the 1815 Fall of Napoleon Bonaparte. Owing to his keen observation of detail and unfiltered representation of society, Balzac is regarded as one of the founders of realism in European literature. He is renowned for his multi-faceted characters; even his lesser characters are complex, morally ambiguous and fully human. Inanimate objects are imbued with character as well; the city of Paris, a backdrop for much of his writing, takes on many human qualities.


Who is this warrior? Is she a battle hardened bounty hunter who travels the lands of her world hunting down demons and beasts for coin? Maybe she’s the assassin her kingdom sends out to kill political enemies. Perhaps she’s not even fully human anymore. Maybe she’s half human/half-fae. Maybe she gave up her body in an attempt to gain enough power to avenge a loved one. If so, who did she make a deal with? Perhaps an ancient god/goddess came to her in her time of need and promised her revenge if she allowed them to control her body when necessary. 

But imagine Steve and Bucky getting married and adopting a child.
Bucky’s always a little afraid that their kid isn’t going to love him because he’s a murderer and not even fully human because of his metal arm. And he always refuses to touch their child with his left arm, scared that their kid is disgusted by it or even fears it.
But one day when Bucky gets into the kitchen, he finds their child sitting on the floor, trying to draw a star on its shoulder while its whole left arm is wrapped into tinfoil.
And when the kid notices Bucky in the doorframe, it lifts its arm and proudly says “Now I’m like you, daddy!” because Bucky is his hero and it wants to be just like him…

“Love.” It’s Complicated.
Another innovation from 22 record years  

You’re an alien on Mars who has a date with a gal on Earth (thanks to an online site!) You’ve memorized every single word in the human cannon so that you can converse effortlessly. GLITCH. Although you technically know every word she’s saying, you’ve absolutely no idea what she’s saying. Because language processing requires conceptual abilities unique to the human brain, it’s truly noteworthy that with IBM Patent No. 8,639,497, researchers have made countless developments in the field of Natural Language Processing. As for love, you alien, good luck, it’s a phenomenon even the brightest of humans can’t fully explain.  

I love her,“ I said. I didn’t say it very loud.
"What?” Bianca stared at me. “What did you say?”
“I said, I love her.”
“She is already half mine.”
“So? I still love her.”
“She isn’t even fully human any longer, Dresden. It won’t be long before she is as a sister to me.”
“Maybe. Maybe not,” I said. “Get your hands off my girlfriend.”
Bianca’s eyes widened. “You are ‘mad’,” she said. “You would flirt with chaos, destruction–with war. For the sake of 'this’ one wounded soul?”
I smote my staff on the floor, reaching deep for power. Deeper than I’ve ever reached before. Outside, in the gathering morning, the air crackled with thunder…“For the sake of one soul. For one loved one. For one life.” I called power into my blasting rod, and its tip glowed incandescent white. “The way I see it, there’s nothing else worth fighting a war for.
—  The Dresden Files: Grave Peril

No one can be fully aware of another human being unless we love them. By that love we see potential in our beloved. Through that love we allow our beloved to see their potential. Expressing that love, our beloved’s potential comes true.

(First I wanna thank @lucky-ass-nerd. Without her grammar checking, this post would be FULL OF ERRORS. Now it’s only full of my idiocy. THANK YOU WAIFU ♡(ŐωŐ人) )

This is strange, because when I started reading OPM two years ago, I wasn’t exactly a fan of Genosai but then time passed, things happened, and here I am, deeply sinking into this ship as the trash fangirl I am but HOWEVER

What follows is THE MOST IDIOTIC of the headcanons, you’ve been warned.

Keep reading

About Anakin’s prosthetics

Like, I get it okay? I understand the desire to make Anakin “young” again by using technology or the Force to “make him whole.” I get it.

But I still really don’t like it.

Anakin isn’t “whole” because he needs to really on technology to function?

Anakin isn’t “fully Human” because his limbs are robotic and needs a machine to breathe for him?

Anakin being “more machine now than man” is a driving force that makes him “twisted and evil”??

Yeah, how about, no. 

Anakin is still fully Human even if his limbs are not organic. Anakin isn’t twisted and evil in part because of his non-organic body parts. 

Sure, it can be said that Obi-Wan didn’t mean those two things are connected, but this is coming from the man who says “it’s only a droid” when Anakin told him he wanted to go look for R2 when there was a really chance that R2 was dead. Who only wanted Anakin to look for R2 when he revealed that he never wiped R2′s memory. Of course, it makes sense to Obi-Wan to wipe the droid’s memory, it’s only a droid after all. It doesn’t matter, it can be replaced. 

Anyway, I bring this up because I’m reading a fic where Anakin was “restored” with all his limbs, the ability to breath, and the appearance of someone in their twenties. And, instead of Obi-Wan being all “you must kill your father, Luke, you can not save him” he was open to the idea that Anakin could be saved, or, at least, not go back to Palpatine. 

Yeah, it’s a fanfic, it isn’t canon. But I’m not convinced that canon!Obi-Wan wouldn’t have taken this attitude in such a situation.

Obi-Wan dissociated Darth Vader from Anakin Skywalker. Darth Vader = evil half machine. Anakin Skywalker = good old friend. If Vader was made to look like his old self, I think Obi-Wan might have been more open to his potential redemption. After all, the suit only made things easier for Obi-Wan to separate Anakin and Vader; if Vader looked like Anakin then Obi-Wan would be confronted with the truth that Anakin Skywalker = Darth Vader. 

And this is part of the reason it is so important that fanfic writers, in my opinion, not make Anakin into his younger self (physically) in order to redeem him. (This can also be said as an award for his redemption, but that one is more complicated.) 

Not having all your limbs does not make you less. Having to rely on technology to help you through everyday bodily functions does not make you less. Needing life support does not make you less.