This... woman? Girl? No, girl was ageist. Woman. This woman was in a much worse state than she thought. She was ignorant and uneducated and silly-well, deadly serious, but serious about silly beliefs, and infuriatingly obstinate about simple but often overlooked truths. More extreme measures were needed.

But, already, she could see it all playing it out in her mind. She would, kindly, and in the spirit of education, bring up ableism. "Prisswits", by referencing mental capabilities and certain personalities in a negative way, was problematic. Priss referred to prissy, thus implying prissiness was a negative trait, and since prissiness was only associated with women, it shamed the entire gender, as well all other identities sharing this aspect of what was not necessarily femininity! And while wit was usually used in a positive way, when attached to another word, it was usually an insult, like here, where it was sarcastic and meant she was not actually intelligent at all! But the insinuation that lack of intelligence was bad was ableist!

It would all backfire! Rapunzel knew Elsa would say that the name was a compliment, and Rapunzel was really bringing her own baggage to it. Elsa, after all, hadn't associated prissiness with something negative, nor had she used stupidity as a drawback. And Rapunzel wouldn't be able to respond, even though she knew Elsa was being disingenuous and it wasn't a compliment at all! Elsa wasn't interested in learning to be a better person; all she wanted was to make fun of her.

Somehow Papa had subverted the bonds of sisterhood to bring Elsa into his cult of patriarchy. He never really appreciated her life choices, and he was constantly microaggressing against her. But she could not be stopped! She had a duty to fight the power! Fight the Da– Man! She seethed-in a completely tolerant and kind-hearted way with intent to help and educate others, that is. Papa always had a way with words, and Elsa was weak-minded. Yes, this was the only conclusion.

Elsa was tilting her head now, which was almost cute in a way, and that was unacceptable! It was just like, just like - well, it was problematic. Elsa was trying to use her beauty to get away with racism and sexism and all the -isms, playing that damsel-in-distress card - and Elsa was no damsel, no siree - and Rapunzel wasn't going to let Elsa get away with it. Rapunzel wasn't going to treat Elsa like a sex object when she was a person. An awful, awful person with adorably blue eyes and smooth blonde hair and a truly wretched set of beliefs and a sick mind.

Think, she had to think. Rapunzel had to concoct another brilliant plan. Brilliant – yes, for she was brilliant, was intelligent no matter what anyone said – because she was. Changing majors was a choice, not a symptom of her not being able to hack it, oh the ever-so-funny double meaning of that pun, spoken by all the very, very clever boys with faces covered in craters, all orbiting around their leader who was so convinced of his own good looks and talent. None of them knew she was setting the curve for every test, and even if they did, they'd assume, just because she was a conventionally attractive woman, she'd sucked off the professor. They didn't know how much their words hurt. And she had tried to play their game, just like Dad told her to. But it never worked, and that was when Rapunzel realized she would never win by playing a man's game of hurting in a man's world. Well, more accurately, she had realized that two months later in her Intro to Gender Studies course. She had to heal them, not hurt them.

Even then, she was a little glad when she heard what had happened. All his buddies - the other ones, the ones he had to deign to meet yet never seemed to grow tired of, the ones in "her social circle", and he said that in the smuggest, most insufferable way - always called him "Chad" in that half-mocking, half-respectful tone she could never understand, and that bastard would just laugh; he was always so sure of himself, captain of the football team, wrote his own webcomic, head of the business frat, why was he so confident? What gave him the right? All those fancy titles? How could he laugh at his own jokes? Didn't he realize how douchey that was? His comic was terrible in every way, with freakish malformed faces and a creep of a main character, some stupid space pirate named Flynn. And the football team lost every game it played! Now he was dead, shot in a drug deal gone very, very bad, because of course a guy like him was dealing for every lowlife in town. Of course, it only made sense; maybe he was happy because he was a druggie; maybe she was happy he was dead; maybe nobody could make sense of it until it was over; halting, halting, like scattered memories; no, fragmented, that was better; and all his buddies left her alone, stopped bothering her; she was glad for that too; things kept ticking along; edges rose; it was all a matter of timing; snakes, camels, and owls dancing around burnt coffee, floating in a sunless sea; the harder she pressed, the harder the resistance got; and she kept walking, more alone than ever; and then the funeral came.

His parents – not his real parents, he was adopted – invited her. Said that he had always liked her, but never had the courage, and now it was too late. Poor, poor Eugene, they cried.

She didn't go. It was better that way. Then she changed majors.

Because of a man. Because of men. How despicably weak of her. Papa despised weakness.

She didn't care what Papa thought.

Elsa put her hand on Rapunzel's shoulder. Leaned in, gave that condescending look of pity.

"Get your hand off me!" screeched Rapunzel.

Elsa immediately pulled back.

"Reeeee," Elsa said with a low, half-chuckle. Like there was a terribly funny joke to it that she didn't want to share. Then she caught herself. "Are you okay?"

"Yes."

Rapunzel couldn't let Elsa see her weak side, no matter how much it hurt to keep it all in. But she was very bad at controlling these things. She just wanted to shine all over the world, was that really so wrong?

Evidently it was. Kill her with kindness. Elsa had to be taught.

"Are you hungry?" asked Rapunzel.

Elsa was staring, her face scrunched up and her left eyebrow arched curiously. "You looked really... intense, there. I mean, like, caught in something. Are you sure you're okay?"

"Yeah, I'm sure I'm okay," said Rapunzel. She didn't want to be patronized, but she didn't say it. "Do you like eggs?"

"Yeah, I like eggs," said Elsa. Elsa liked eggs. Rapunzel noted that fact.

She wouldn't let Elsa win.

Rapunzel led Elsa to the kitchen. It was an ordinary kitchen. It had a fridge, a sink, a dishwasher, a stove, a microwave, a toaster oven, a coffee-maker; all the normal stuff. The SmartCook avatar on the screen on the fridge made eye contact with Rapunzel and scanned her retina. It then chirped confirmation and purred to life.

"Greetings, mistress!" said the fridge.

"Fetch omelet recipes!" commanded Rapunzel.

"The following recipes exist for 'omelette'!"

An long list appeared on the screen.

"In addition, our SmartCook evocook algorithm is prepared to suggest new recipes. Remember to rate every meal so we can better serve you."

"Elsa, what do you like in your omelette?" asked Rapunzel as Elsa stared dumbly at the fridge.

"Uhhh... anything, I guess. I usually use whatever I have lying around," said Elsa.

"But what's your favorite?" asked Rapunzel.

Elsa stopped to think. It really wasn't that hard of a question, but Elsa thought for a real long time.

"Sorry, it's a bit dusty in here," said Elsa, blinking and rubbing the corner of one eye. That couldn't be true. They had state-of-the-air air filtration. Elsa was a born liar, wasn't she? A cunning foe. "I guess... lobster. But who ever heard of a lobster omele-"

Rapunzel snapped her fingers. "Housemate? Frying pan."

The wall opened up and provided her a frying pan. These were the kinds of conveniences that made it possible to live without servants. She placed the frying pan on the stove, then retrieved a few eggs from the fridge. She looked up at a monitor.

"Housemate, display lobster tanks." Rapunzel was faintly aware of a gasp around her. "Elsa, which one do you want?"

The poor girl was babbling. It was like she'd never seen a kitchen before. Probably bought fast food all the time.

"I'll pick one," said Rapunzel, sighing. "Just wait here, I'll be back."

She picked a lobster, one that was large, but not too large. She brought it back into the kitchen. Quickly, she drove a knife into its head, splitting it open right behind the eyes and killing it. Elsa was now sitting in a comfy leather chair, her fingers resting on an open newspaper as she looked at the floor. Rapunzel got a skillet from the Housemate, poured in some olive oil, waited for a bit, then melted some butter. She sprinkled the lobster with salt and pepper. She sauteed the lobster in the skillet with the butter while frying the eggs. She added the lobster to the eggs.

Rapunzel glanced at Elsa, still staring stupidly. "Well? Aren't you going to get a plate?"

Elsa snapped her head up, blinking for a few moments before glaring. "Gee, I don't know, isn't that the wife's job?"

Rapunzel started to object. Then her knees got wobbly. Elsa was right, absolutely right. Rapunzel had walked right into her trap of traditional gender roles. Not only that, she had planned this all from the beginning. She knew that she knew that she knew that she knew that the insult would inevitably lead to an ableism response which would cause Rapunzel to avoid the response which would lead to the kindness strategy which meant no matter what Rapunzel would end up cooking for Elsa and Elsa was seven steps ahead the whole time. And now Elsa was steepling her fingers, enjoying her victory. Elsa was a mastermind and Rapunzel was just a stupid, stupid girl. Just like everyone said.

Rapunzel collapsed into a sobbing heap. She heard Elsa walk over to her. Judging her, Rapunzel was sure. Everyone was always judging. She just wanted everyone to get along in peace and harmony but everyone was always judging her; she always felt like the butt of some vague joke. That was her life. A joke. A terrible joke. Even now, it was a joke. Elsa only responded because of societal conditioning; a damsel-in-distress had to be protected. Even now, she was affirming traditional gender roles and the patriarchy. "S-s-stop...don't make fun of me, don't even touch me! I don't want you to touch me," sobbed Rapunzel.

Elsa knelt down and hugged Rapunzel tight, awkwardly patting the side of Rapunzel's head. Each time Rapunzel sobbed, Elsa patted and shushed her. Rapunzel didn't need to be protected. "I don't need you," said Rapunzel weakly.

Weakness. Rapunzel was weak. She was always weak. Papa was right. A strong person wouldn't give up at the first sign of adversity. A strong person wouldn't care about what people said. A strong person would fight and win. They said that's not what strength is. They said that strength was the ability to forgive and change minds. But they were wrong. Rapunzel still wasn't strong. She would never be strong.

"I know you don't," murmured Elsa. "But it's gonna be okay."

But it would only be okay if someone fixed it. Rapunzel was supposed to fix things herself. She was supposed to be a warrior! And she wasn't.

She was pathetic. And the world was judging her.

Elsa stood. Gave her a look – a judgmental look! Elsa stroked her hair and Rapunzel didn't have the strength to resist. Elsa turned off the stove. The omelette was burnt.

Elsa slid it onto a plate and sat down beside Rapunzel. She picked off pieces with her hands. The eggs were blackened and rubbery and Elsa chewed methodically, nodding with every mouthful. She never moved from Rapunzel's side.

They sat together for a long time.

Author Notes:
benis in bagina :DDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDD