#and i suppose in a way that does inherently make her better

[julesnichols]

One day (when I've slept enough to both remember enough to make all of my points and be coherent) I'll explain what I meant when I joked about Sophie being worse

[xcrust]

Paint the Town Red [PREVIEW]

I seriously haven't written due to having an education but for my story i want to give you improvement and quality content. So I am not making you all wait too long here is a preview of the next chapter. If there is anything that you feel is needed and note you would want to offer then i would love for you to throw it my way

FULL STORY HERE

All the latest chapters and previous is at that link!!!

Looking between the mirror in front of you, reflecting In the soft glow of dawn's embrace, (Y/n) stood before the ornate mirror that adorned her room. The morning sunlight filtered through the delicate curtains, casting a warm radiance upon them as they examined her reflection. It wasn't the typical admiration one might associate with vanity; rather, it was an introspective gaze that transcended the surface.

As they lifted a lock of hair, the sunlight or rather the glimmer caught the subtle highlights, reminiscent of the glimmers of hope that had guided them through the darkest nights. The relationship between their parents isn't inherently bad. But the isolating feeling never evolved or made anything better. This dark world was something that was all you knew. Inherently when it came to your view of humans it had to be a little different from your older sister. All humans are made corrupt. No matter the family a person is raised from. Though what allows hell borns to be condemned to whatever flock shows up. It is a harsh ideal but with so much bad coming from earth then how could someone even have a belief that earth is all that good when it's corrupting the supposed bad.

Nevertheless the people that showed up from earth kept the seven rings entertained the more time went on. In fact if it weren't for earth then you wouldn't be in the situation that you are now. You couldn't remember the last time you had dinner with your parents, Family dinners hadn't been a thing in a long time. So sitting across a little table of a cafe with the infamous radio demon for dinner is the last thing that would have been imagined in your life.

“So my dearest! I want to know everything about you and what makes you tick” Closing your new pocket mirror you glance at him before going to pick at your clothes,  the bunny painted in red stares at you with a charming look in his eye. 

“Alastor, you're going all out for a person like me. But what is it that you want.” curiosity might have killed the cat but in hell its survival of the fittest. Between you and him, that's an easy feat for you but survival in getting higher in the food chain? Well that's some grounds you need to work on. 

“ Heavens me, or should I say hells me? HA can't a guy get to know another fella?” His burgundy pinstripe suit made your weakness to elegant things. In your heart you are truly someone that cannot be so easily deterred by another. If leaving the Morningstar household didnt prove it. Maybe working on social skills might be the first thing to work on. 

“Who are you kidding? What?! Did you want to talk to my dad? Sorry to best your bubble but i'm making a nam-”

“Hush now” he quipped in “now what are you assuming on today” taking out a pocket watch from his top pocket. The ticking being comically loud. Being in hell should have you used to an odd face every once in a while. But looking at him felt like a lost cartoon. “As ive said before, i know nothing about you. You've just got a nifty little… look to you”  There goes his smile again. It's so shameless.

“Yeah right” Being hell royalty should've put your name towards everyone that walks this street. 

“Sorry doll face, having such a smooth face in this area of town might just be the most interesting piece of plot in these parts” you let out a sudden hitch in your breath. Does he actually not know anything about you? Maybe the overlord title might be a lot harder than intended. “Now doll you're never fully dressed without a smile, now play nice” The grimace on your face might’ve just drowned in your thoughts hearing him say that. 

You couldn't make sense of his statement. An earthborn being known to you and probably the purest kind of entertainment in hell. Though if he didnt even know who you were then maybe this could be a better opportunity in the end. No phony respect. Something that would actually make a difference to yourself. Smoothing your expression into soft passiveness. 

“Say there, bunny tail, how about you and I take a stroll down the boulevard and paint the town red” 

 “Aren't you a tough nut to crack? Well who am I to deny a bona fide high roller”

[fixedteacup]

I think there's an argument to be made that Will and Hannibal have directly opposing concepts of love. Especially in season 1, Will treats romantic love as something that would make him sane, help him regain control over his life, sort of anchor him if you will. That's why he kisses Alana in Fromage. And it's because of the same reasons that he's being denied his desire for romantic love here; Alana rejects him because he's not mentally stable. In a way, he's being told here that love not only "heals" you but that it's something for the sane – and not for the "troubled" like him. This is also why Will later keeps his current "happy" marriage separate from his complicated past with Hannibal. Because love is not supposed to get messy.

But to Hannibal, love is messy. The only time he's loved someone before caused him nothing but pain. Mischa's death traumatized him. And the love he had for her and all the pain that came of it changed him forever. To him, love does not heal, it destroys. Where Will perceives love as change for the better, Hannibal can only see it as change for the worse. Because it's the one thing with the ability to hurt him (or to "influence" him as they put it in Secondo) – love is an uncontrollable force, it's inherently messy.

And if you interpret their concepts of love like that, it's interesting that they both deny themselves love but for different reasons; Hannibal fears love because he is scared of getting hurt again and Will (for a long time at least) does not allow himself to experience love because he's convinced it's not for him.

[sporesgalaxy]

I’ve thought about it some more and I want to rephrase: the specific thing about the way Dungeon Meshi handles gender and autism that makes me bonkers is the blunt way the author states the differences between Laios and Falin’s treatment by the world. If Falin had been the one to try and carve out a space for the both of them, she would have been dismissed at best. But Laios was the one to try that, and for the crime of being a big autistic man, he was beaten for it. Many- most, even- aspects of this world and the real world favor men, when a gender or presentation is favored. Misogyny is extremely present in so many of our lives. But it is naive to pretend that there are no downsides to being seen as a man, especially one of color, or one that’s not neurotypical, or any number of things. Falin faces unique struggles as an autistic woman, usually internal, and usually to do with the social pressures placed on her to be seen as nothing but agreeable. But Laios faces unique struggles as an autistic man, like getting the shit kicked out of him or punched in the face or having people plot to kill him.

I’m super not trying to say that either has it better. Facing conflict because you are incapable of not presenting as exactly the kind of person you are isn’t inherently worse or better than being unable to present at all, trapped within yourself. But the way it’s presented in Dungeon Meshi is fascinating to me.

Ok so first of all I want you to know I GET IT. I HAVE SEEN HOW BAD IT CAN SUCK FOR AUTISTIC MEN IN A LOUD AND OPEN AND PHYSICAL WAY and how NO ONE FUCKING DOES ANYTHING ABOUT IT because Guys Are Supposed To Be Tough and You Should Just Stop Acting Weird And Having Feelings and all that bullshit!!!!!!! I watched that happen to someone very close to me over the course of My Whole Childhood. It's fucking dismal and it makes me really happy to see a character like Laios where those struggles are front and center.

BUT! I also want to point out that your wording here, altho it is not your intention to belittle Falin's suffering, makes it seem like her/typical autistic women's suffering is wholly immaterial. Which is NOT true. It's not that Falin's emotional suffering is equal to Laios' physical suffering, it's that their autism/neurodivergence makes them both vulnerable to physical AND emotional abuse, but in different ways because of gendered social dynamics.

•••

(Quick aside: non-autistic men and women both experience physical as well as emotional abuse because of their percieved gender as well, btw. Yes, men get priveleges, but patriarchy harms them, too. You know what, this video discussing the strengths and weaknesses of The Barbie Movie actually explains it really really well. Anyways, back to the main point.)

Due to the different gendered social expectations placed on men and women, yes, men are more likely to escalate social conflict to physically fighting each other. But the same way that doesn't mean that there's NO emotionally abusive aspect to men's social punishment for being too different, the fact that women are expected to use emotionally abusive tactics to address social conflict does NOT mean that there is no physically abusive aspect to the ways that autistic women are mistreated.

The same way Laios' inability to hide his autistic traits puts him at risk for both getting the shit beaten out of him AND being lied to for purely social reasons, Falin's coping strategy of being agreeable puts her at risk for being shunned emotionally AND enduring physical harassment.

If Falin had tried to actively & forcefully carve out a place for herself and Laios in the world, dismissal is NOT the worst that could have happened to her. What Falin's childhood experience being subjected to folk rituals by her mother and rejection from the town REALLY shows us is that, if Falin was TOO unnacceptable to the people around her it would have become someone else's responsibility to "fix" or "cure" her. Her parents', or a doctor's, or a betrothed.

I'll try to find it later, but in one of the bonus comics where we learn more about the Touden sibs' relationships to their parents, one of the things we learn is that their mother tried to "treat" Falin's magical abilities using a variety of ineffective folk cures. Their mother felt pressured to do this by the townspeople's very negative response to Falin's magical abilities, which along with their father seeking advice from a Gnome, proves that the threat against Falin was not completely in Laios' head.

Falin says she saw this as quality time with her mother, but...I mean, girls with unhealthy relationships to their bodies often see childhood dieting and clothes shopping with their mothers as quality time, even if that "quality time" instilled in them a deep-seated belief that they should mistreat their bodies and view themselves as objects to be consumed. Just because Falin thinks of it as quality time now does NOT mean that there was no damage done.

In a world where her social and fiscal autonomy are already highly limited, Falin's physical autonomy is threatened by her neurodivergence, just in a more roundabout way than Laios' is.

[mixelation]

itachi lying about getting his mangekyou from thinking he saw tori die is such a concept omg. Like truly gaslighting everyone.

team 4 really is gaslight gatekeep girlbossing their way through life :)

here's some dialogue lol

“It’s become apparent we need to be better at communicating,” Itachi said, standing in front of them like he was reporting to the Hokage. “We need to have a better understanding of each other’s limits and foreknowledge.”

Itachi did have his mangekyou. Tori had not needed to jump off a bird. 

“But did you want Kushina-sensei to know you have it?” Deidara asked, confused. 

Itachi stared thoughtfully at the wall behind Tori’s bed. 

“I suppose not,” Itachi said finally. 

“Then you’re welcome,” Tori replied dryly. “Does anyone know you have it?”

“No,” Itachi said flatly. 

“....do we need to fake a reason you have it?” Tori said cautiously, and Deidara immediately opened his mouth to ask what that meant.

“That would be… convenient,” Itachi said slowly, ignoring Deidara’s questions. 

“Okay, you can’t just announce we need to be better at communicating and refuse to communicate, yeah,” Deidara complained. 

Itachi stared at him. Tori let out an exaggerated sigh. 

“A regular sharingan evolves to a mangekyou under extreme emotional distress,” she told Deidara. “Like, extreme distress. Kill-someone-you-love distress.”

“Oh,” Deidara said, sounding taken aback, a rare emotion for him. After a beat, he asked, “Is that why you killed your family?”

“....No,” Itachi said. 

They stared at each other. Deidara’s eye started twitching. 

“That is a whole conversation we don’t have time for right now,” Tori said. “Although, Itachi, we should have a conversation eventually.”

“I know,” Itachi said, finally pulling his eyes away from Deidara.

Tori decided to change the direction of the conversation and turned to Deidara, sitting next to her on her bed. She kicked the side of his leg. 

“What about you? Still got a seal in your chest?”

“Not yet,” Deidara said, hand automatically going for the mouth in his chest. “I didn’t need it until puberty.”

Apparently, at some point during his growth spurt when most people’s chakra reserves naturally expanded, his chakra had gone haywire. Deidara was born with crazy large reserves; puberty had expanded them to levels he’d been unable to control. Iwa had sealed a bunch of it away out of fear of him blowing himself up. It was rare but not unheard of in people with Explosion Release. 

“That possibility is something you should have mentioned months ago,” Itachi said. “Kushina-sensei could–” 

“I might be able to control it this time,” Deidara cut him off. “The seal they do is permanent. I don’t want it unless it’s necessary, yeah.”

“I’m sure Konoha’s multiple fuinjutsu masters–” Itachi started. 

“I can take any seal off,” Tori interrupted before Itachi implied Konoha would be inherently better at managing Iwa’s bloodline limit than Iwa and Deidara started yelling. “But don’t you dare put me in a position where I have to make one up on the spot because you’re on the brink of exploding. Go tell Kushina-sensei they told you you’d need one when you were a kid, or Kurotsuchi mentioned it or something.”

“Fine,” Deidara griped and then solved half a croissant into his mouth. Then he glared at Tori. “And what ‘bout you?” he asked through a mouthful of bread. “What can you even do?”

“Uh,” Tori replied. 

Tori was not even sure she could die. 

“You can’t, like, tell?” Deidara asked. 

“No,” Tori replied. “I think I’d have to talk to the Shinigami to find out, and that’s not an experiment I’m prepared to repeat casually.”

“It would be convenient,” Itachi said, scratching his chin like he was having some sort of idea. “If you died temporarily, that would explain my mangekyou…”

As touching as it was that Itachi considered her a friend, Tori refused to do this unless Tsunade herself was immediately on hand. She definitely didn’t want to discover she was mortal now and actually die. And if she lived, she didn’t want to permanently damage herself. 

“My fuuinjutsu is probably on par with what it was before,” she said, changing the subject. “In theory I have more options because I can use chakra now, but I haven’t explored those much yet.”

“And you can melt people now, yeah,” Deidara said, then kicked her leg back. “You don’t have any other insane medical techniques you just forgot could have combat uses, do you?”

Tori stared down at her coffee cup, thinking this question over. She’d never gotten very good at the chakra scalpel technique. Could she use basic healing techniques for anything…?

“I hate that you have to think that hard, yeah,” Deidara told her.

[pippytmi]

For the fake dating thing 11 with whomever you want!

“Do you always get into fist fights on first dates, or am I just lucky?”

There is a bruise already forming on Kara’s jaw, and her hand still has a phantom ache that won’t go away. There might be a touch of blood on the lapel of her shirt, too, but she has been unable to confirm without ready access to a mirror. But it’s this—the firm click of silver six-inch heels against pavement announcing Lena’s arrival—that brings Kara an instant sense of uneasiness.

“It’s kind of in the job description,” Kara shrugs off the rhetorical question. “You know, of being a girlfriend.”

Lena Luthor has an uncanny ability to make Kara feel completely, totally inept in any situation just with a quizzical quirk of an eyebrow and a ruby-red lipsticked frown. Not because she deliberately tries to, but because that’s just the Luthor™ way. Every member of that family seems to have mastered the ability to stare hard enough to make anyone squirm. Even though Kara has known Lena since they were kids—even though they know each other better than anyone else in the world—the effect is the same.

“That might be the most idiotic thing you’ve said all night.” Despite her stoic expression, Lena’s voice is surprisingly soft. “You should have walked away.”

“That would have been worse than not punching Mike Matthews, I think,” Kara says. “Really, I’m ninety-five percent sure I’m supposed to defend your honor, or… whatever the saying is.”

And the strangest thing happens; a glimpse of amusement cracks through Lena’s frown, visible in the ever-so-gentle upturn of the corner of her mouth. “Sorry, did I miss the part where we time traveled a hundred years ago?”

“It’s—you know what I mean,” Kara says. “If I was your real girlfriend everyone would expect me to punch guys in the face for you.”

“Or,” Lena counters, “it might be overkill, since everyone knows you are not inherently a violent person.”

Kara sheepishly tugs at her collar, unable to stop herself from flushing when Lena gazes at her so pointedly. “Does it matter if everyone who meets Mike wants to punch him? Because I’m pretty sure he could make a nun violent.”

“Wow,” Lena says. “I don’t think I’ve ever heard you say a mean thing about anyone before this.”

“Yeah, well…” Kara grimaces. “Mike Matthews brings it out of me. Or maybe this stuffy party does.” Her hand unconsciously goes back to her jacket, and she has to shrug it off all at once, suddenly feeling constricted in her suit. “I don’t know how you do it.”

Lena must be far more uncomfortable than Kara is, with those high heels and the skintight dress and the overall burden of familial expectations hanging on her shoulders, but she masks it remarkably well. “Practice,” she says—sighs. “And whiskey.”

“Gross,” Kara says, unconsciously crinkling her nose as she works at undoing her tie next. “I’m more of a Capri Sun girl myself.”

A short, stunned laugh emerges before Lena can likely quell it. “Right, how could I forget,” she says, and tilts her head in that curious way she does whenever she has a question she isn’t sure how to ask. But it must pass, because her actual question comes out in the form of: “Is there a reason you’re stripping in full view of the paparazzi?” 

“Fan service?” It’s a weak joke, but it makes Lena roll her eyes in that mock-exasperated way that Kara knows would be a laugh out of anyone else. “I just need to cool off, maybe. Then I promise, I’ll be your doting girlfriend for all the cameras again.” She allows a beat before she adds, perhaps unnecessarily, “Without any violence.”

“Yes, I think my mother would very much prefer that.”

Kara laughs, remembering the horrified look on Lillian Luthor’s face with—admittedly—a bit of glee. “Yeah,” she says, “I’m sure she’s thrilled with how tonight is going.”

“Well, she does think it’s all part of a rebellious phase,” Lena muses. “She’s convinced I’m doing this just to spite her.”

Kara has felt the brunt of Lillian’s disapproval back since she first befriended Lena when they were kids, back when they were auditioning for the same movie. Honestly, there is no telling why Lillian has always disliked Kara. Maybe it was because she wasn’t a nepotism baby like all the rest of crowd, or maybe it was because Kara would sneak Lena out of the giant Luthor mansion to go to the movies, or maybe it was because when they were teenagers Kara had wrecked the Porsche (on a dare)...but that disdain has been steadfast ever since they were young, and it’s never once wavered. Everyone knows it. Lena knows it.

Which is why Kara is unable to keep the confusion out of her voice when she says, “Uh. Aren’t you?”

“Aren’t I…what?” Lena repeats, lost.

“Pretending to date me to spite her?” Kara prompts. “You know. Since she hates me?”

Lena’s brow furrows ever-so-slightly. “I didn’t mean dating you,” she says. “I mean dating in general. She thinks it’s a distraction.” She absentmindedly picks at one of the sequins on her dress, a nervous tic that she has never been able to shake. “God, it’s getting cold out here.”

The temperature is just right for Kara, but Lena has always run cold; Kara’s poked fun at her for it once or twice (or for their entire childhood, but who’s keeping track). An unbidden smile, fonder than it has any right to be, inevitably forms. “Well sit down, so you can leech some of my body heat. Besides, you make me tired just looking at you in those heels.”

“Then I’ll be colder,” Lena objects, eyeing the stone of the fountain edge that Kara is currently sitting on. “No way.”

“You’re the most high maintenance fake girlfriend ever,” Kara feigns annoyance. “Here, then. Sit on my lap. And you can put my jacket over your legs.”

It’s hard to exactly tell with the dim lighting of the streetlights, but Lena—blushes? Maybe? And immediately shakes her head. “I’m too heavy.”

“No such thing,” Kara retorts. “I’ll keep stripping if you don’t sit down, Lena. Then your mother will really have a reason to hate me.”

“You are trying to create scandal everywhere you can tonight, aren’t you?” Lena says, but doesn’t move, only crosses her arms and gives Kara an exasperated look. “It would be a hell of a front page.”

“Wow, Lena, if you wanted me naked all you had to do was ask,” Kara says, undoing the first two buttons of her shirt while Lena continues to glare. Then, for fun, she continues up until she hits the top of her bra and Lena’s jaw fully drops in alarm.

“Oh my God, Kara, stop!”

But the ruse works, because as Lena moves forward as if she’s about to button Kara’s shirt back up (or just push her into the fountain), Kara is able to wrap an arm around Lena’s waist and tug her down. Lena yelps in surprise, arms coming up to squeeze around Kara’s neck, and Kara has to hide a grin into the curls that hit her full force in the face.

“Geez, Lena, you’re like an ice cube. Don’t you own a sweater?”

“You asshole,” Lena says, but there is no bite in her voice, only annoyed defeat. “If I get glitter all over you, I’m not going to apologize.”

“I’ll let it slide, this once.” Kara doesn’t mention that there’s nothing in the world that she wouldn’t let Lena get away with. That’s the inevitable truth of being in love with this girl pretty much her whole life—Kara caves first, and she always has. Whether it was what flavor of Gatorade to get from the vending machine, or whether it was who got to sit down in the only remaining chair for a last minute casting call, or whether it was to tag along to Lena’s prom date so the boy wouldn’t try to kiss her, Kara always let Lena call the shots.

Lena exhales; Kara feels the warmth of Lena’s breath against her temple, feels the steady weight of Lena’s body as she shifts on Kara’s lap, feels the rough pattern of Lena’s dress sequins against her fingertips. “You know you’re my best friend, right?” Lena says suddenly.

Those words always make Kara’s heart skip a beat, like they’re right back to being fifteen and nervously holding each other’s sweaty hands while poring over crumpled scripts. “I’d better be,” Kara quips, if only to keep her sappiness at bay, “or I’m returning the BFF necklaces I brought as our first-anniversary gift.”

“I’m serious,” Lena huffs, and her grip around Kara’s neck tightens just a hair. “Will you let me be serious?”

“Okay, okay. One hundred percent seriousness from here on out, I promise.”

For a moment, the only sound is that of cars passing, of the trickle from the water fountain, of the faint music coming from the party. And when Lena speaks at last, it’s quiet. “I know my mom’s not the…easiest person,” she says. “And if pretending to be my girlfriend is going to make you uncomfortable because you have to deal with her, you don’t have to do it.”

“I’ve been dealing with your mother forever, Lena,” Kara says lightly. “She hasn’t been able to scare me off yet, for as much as she’s tried.”

Lena scoffs, but her hand is unmistakably tender as she fiddles with Kara’s shirt collar. “What happened to being serious?”

“I am serious! Do you or do you not remember that time we went to the water park? I swear she cut a hole in my water tube slide. And let’s not even bring up the whole prom incident, because I swear my hip has never been the same since falling out of your window.”

“She didn’t even know that was you.” Lena laughs, and it’s still somewhat hesitant, but just affectionate enough to reflect her feelings about that memory. “That feels like a lifetime ago.”

Kara inhales, shakily, both the sweet scent of Lena’s perfume and some much-needed air. “In a good way or a bad way?”

Lena presses her forehead into Kara’s jaw, her skin still cold enough that it makes Kara sympathetically squeeze her tighter. “Can you just promise to tell me if you don’t feel comfortable?” she asks, and ignores Kara’s question entirely. “Either with my mother, or…just the pretending part with me.”

“I feel plenty comfortable,” Kara tries, but Lena just reiterates,

“Promise me, Kara. I don't want to lose you.”

Something about the urgency in Lena's tone shifts the mood entirely; Kara swallows tightly and nods obligingly. “Okay. I promise. But you have to tell me, too, if anything becomes…I don't know, too much.”

“Fine,” Lena agrees readily.

“No, wait, but listen,” Kara presses. “Being friends is one thing, but dating is another, and—even if it's fake, we're going to have to do couple things. And I don't want it to ruin our friendship.”

“I also don't want to ruin our friendship,” Lena says. “Which is why I brought it up first.”

“Good. Okay. I just wanted to be sure.” Kara awkwardly shifts, all too aware that this might not be the ideal time and place for this conversation. Much less when Lena's still in her lap, clinging to Kara as if afraid to let go. “So on a scale of one to ten, how badly have I messed up the friendship by fighting Mike?”

Lema hums, considering. “That depends on what he said about me.”

“Um, nothing nice,” Kara says haltingly. “I'd rather not repeat it.”

“Then I'll let it slide…this once.” Lena's hands find their way up to Kara's face, fingertips gentle against the bruise on her jaw. “But you are still an idiot.” She thumbs warmly against the apple of Kara's cheek and gazes at Kara from underneath thick mascaraed eyelashes, then whispers, “And you're my favorite.”

“Your favorite idiot?”

“My favorite person.” Suddenly they're seventeen again, and Kara is sitting on Lena's bedroom floor still tugging at her tux because it itches. Suddenly they're seventeen again, and Lena is biting her lip and unable to catch Kara’s eye. Suddenly they’re seventeen again, and Lena is whispering I wanted you to make sure he didn’t kiss me because I want you to be my first kiss.

Kara blinks, mouth opening and closing for a pause, before she has to fall back on a safe feeling—fall right back to humor, so Lena does not comment on the way Kara’s body automatically tenses. “Aw, Lena,” she manages, “that sounded a lot like you like me.”

“I’m just a good actress,” Lena says mock-haughtily, but her eyes are searching as they lock onto Kara’s, expression softening the way no one else ever really sees. To the world she’s always been some cold, aloof superstar, but to Kara she will always be the best friend who wanted her first kiss to be with the person she trusted most in the world.

“Well for the record,” Kara swallows thickly, “you’re my favorite, too.”

There is a split second—a charged, electric second—where Kara swears Lena is going to kiss her. Her eyes are hooded like they’re about to close, and her face sways closer, her hand still resting on Kara’s bruised jaw. But then she sighs, and Kara can feel the distance before she sees it.

“We should go back inside,” Lena says, abruptly stumbling off of Kara's lap. “Sooner or later we'll have to do damage control.”

It takes a beat for Kara to catch up. “Right,” she says, hastening to button up her shirt and follow. “It wouldn't be a Luthor party without damage control.”

“It's the first time you're the cause, though,” Lena throws over her shoulder. “And don't forget your tie!”

“Got it,” Kara calls, undoing her tie entirely and tossing it into the bushes. “Hey, wait up! Come back and hold my hand.”

That makes Lena freeze in place. “What?”

“For—you know, the cameras,” Kara says, shrugging her suit jacket back on. “So we can show a united front.”

Lena gives her an inscrutable look. “You say the weirdest things sometimes,” she says, but she allows Kara to catch up and intertwine their hands together without further complaint. 

“How else is everyone supposed to know you're not mad at me?” Kara reminds her. “Or that I'm the best girlfriend you've ever had?”

“I doubt they're going to make that assumption based on hand holding.” But as they climb up the steps to rejoin the gala, the low, golden light illuminates that dimpled smile of Lena's that makes Kara breathless. “What makes you think you're the best, anyway?”

“Just a guess,” Kara says, squeezing Lena's hand as they reach the entrance. “Am I?”

“Let's see if you end tonight without any more fights first,” Lena quips, and while her voice is teasing, her smile grows exponentially tender. “Ready?”

“Ready,” Kara echoes quietly, and allows Lena to lead her right through those double doors knowing that she would follow Lena anywhere.

[neat-crows]

For some reason I've seen a lot of people disliking the way Jessica Jones season 1 ends. The vibe I've seen is that it wasn't epic enough, it was underwhelming, and that it was too simple and fast and Killgrave would be too smart to fall for it. etc etc.

I think these takes miss the point though. This is the only way he could have gone out, BECAUSE it wasn't an attempt to outsmart him at all.

The whole point is that Killgrave wasn't an epic villain, he was a weird misogynistic little control freak that was obsessed with owning Jessica because he couldn't stand that she was her own person.

The whole season is a game of cat and mouse between them, and you can see just how smart both of them are - they are both equally powerful and intelligent, BUT killgrave literally didn’t need to be doing this at all! He could have left ANY time, he didn’t have to send Hope after her, he could have left before the house, or after he escaped, or after the nightclub, literally WHENEVER

His obsession with controlling Jessica was always his downfall

She was the executioner, but in the end he brought it all on himself

He didn’t get an epic ending because it’s not ABOUT him and because he didn’t need one. It was never about outsmarting or overpowering him, it was about his incessant need for control and Jessica making a decision.

And it works SO WELL not just because it makes good commentary, but also because it mirrors exactly how Killgrave tried to get her to bend to his will; both of them aimed for each other’s emotional weak point - but killgrave failed because he doesn’t actually know or understand Jessica at all, just the version of her he made up in his head and made her play act like a little doll for him

He thinks her weakness is a hero complex, because the first time they meet she’s saving Malcolm from some muggers and killgrave asks her if it felt good to beat up those men, she says yes, and when he asks why she says

“Because I helped someone”

And he’s such an inherently selfish person that to him that translates to a hero complex - He can’t imagine a person who just wants to save people, not to bolster their self worth or to in some way help theme selves. He’s spent his entire life only doing things because he wanted to, because it brought HIM satisfaction, that the idea that someone might willingly do Anything that’s not to make them feel better doesn’t even cross his mind.

And that’s why at the house he shows her the (curated) videos of his childhood, why he “respects” her wishes about not hurting the nosy neighbor, why he goes and saves that family with her, and is genuinely helpful. His tactic to get her to stay with him is to show her how his powers can be used for good, show her he’s also a person who can experience pain and love and joy, and then make her ‘realize’ if she stays with him she could make him a hero and good person. Because he thinks she will sacrifice herself for him and for society if he presents it as a way to atone and heal her guilt.

But Jessica refuses. She betrays him and takes her own route while knowing if she had given up all her autonomy she could have made him a good person and saved countless lives. (I don’t think this was ever actually achievable but she believed it was so the point stands)

Jessica jones has a lot of problems, but a hero complex isn’t one of them.

But Jessica jones DOES know his weakness, his real weakness, her. Controlling the only person who could defy him. And yes it is an obvious and see through plan - Killgrave even calls it out! But then in order to prove she’s faking what does he do? He assaults Trish - and when she continues following his orders he FULLY believes it and completely lets down his guard.

Why? It’s such an obvious trick! He’s supposed to be clever!!!! Well it worked so well because he clearly WANTED to believe it so bad (self admittedly), he was drunk on his own power, he wanted to believe his own strength and he wanted to own Jessica again. But also because again

He thinks Jessica has a hero complex

Her allowing this to happen to her friend ? Jessica jones would never do this! He knows her so well! She just Can’t Help but Help people! If she was faking her helplessness this would have broken her out of it! (Also there’s the whole level of the jealousy he has of Trish and the love Jessica and Trish share but that’s for another post)

And so he dies, small, unable to speak, not being told he’s loved, with a simple snapped neck from a cheap, unplanned ploy, that was thought up on the spot. Just as he deserved.

[itsclydebitches]

Okay, so I saw this RWBY meme made by a fan and I can't remember it completely but it was about Emerald switching sides. What stood out to me was the language used and how Ruby's group was specifically referred to as "The Good Guys side" and if that doesn't show how broken this show's morality is then I don't know what does. Emerald switched to the side of good, not just Ruby's side. The side that is specifically good because it's Ruby side. You're either with Ruby or against her with no in-between. Compare this to Aang's group in ATLA, affectionately called The Gaang by fans. A term that collectively refers to the group without proclaiming them as THE good guys. We know they're good because their actions show they are good. It isn't just a title grafted on because they're the stars of the show. And while they have an official grouping in the form of Team Avatar. It still isn't used in the same manner as RWBY fans calling all who agree with Ruby "The Good Guys".

Decided to start answering backlog asks! We've officially entered the post-RT discussion era. Fun! 😬

You know, RWBY is compared (unfavorably) to Avatar a lot, but this comparison is particularly interesting to me because Avatar is, well... Avatar. That's a title. And it's a title built into the fictional world, one that's so significant it's worthy of being the name of the show. The Avatar is a combined destiny/job description that, in the words of the wiki, is the "human embodiment of light and peace." Obviously free will still comes into play - I'd never ignore the significance behind Aang's personal choice of how to bring balance to the world - but there's an element of fate here, of self-fulfilling prophecy, and fourth wall-breaking knowledge. In-world, benders are (presumably) not chosen if they're unsuited to be this embodiment of peace. Once someone knows they're the avatar, they can more easily find the courage/determination to meet such high standards because this is how it's "supposed" to be (regardless of whether anything cosmic is actually ensuring their success). And the audience knows, by virtue of that title and our opening, how we're meant to view Aang: as the Good Guy of the story. All that already exists outside of the actions he takes within the show, helping to soften anything potentially suspect with a "Well, he's just a kid" or "Well, everyone makes mistakes," or whatever explanation that's technically true in any harrowing story featuring a young protagonist... but continually falls flat with Team RWBY.

Because RWBY didn't do that same work. RWBY doesn't have a handle on its own identity the way Avatar does. It laid some of the groundwork early on but then never capitalized on it, which is why I'm endlessly groaning over the failure of not doing anything with Ruby's status as a SEW/simple soul. Those could have easily been titles the way "Avatar" is a title, something that the people of Ruby's world see as cosmic evidence of her purity and inherent ability to lead them in this war. Instead, it's just a one-off, ambiguous statement and a very badly used skill.

So yeah, Emerald joins The Good Guys, which wouldn't be bad if, as said, the show had shown the group unambiguously being Good people in a war with black and white solutions. Or, if we had some reason to believe that Ruby is The One True Leader, destined/worthy of bearing this burden no matter the number of mistakes she's made. But RWBY even undermines the title aspect by making Ruby herself fairly inconsequential in later volumes. Yeah, the show is also named after this team/our protagonist... and yet that began to feel incidental as the cast grew AND many of the characters brought new - arguably better - perspectives + powers into the fray. Avatar made the simple but VERY important decision to say, "This is the ONLY GUY who can do this job. Sure, he's going to need a lot of help and saving the world is absolutely a team effort, but that team revolves around him because he is, again, the ONE PERSON who can accomplish this." RWBY failed to set that up and (arguably) failed to show the group being The Good Guys, at least to the extent that the whole world would understandably put their faith in a teenager who, frankly, just keeps making things worse. Like, that's a big consideration imo. Ruby's intentions have always been good and most fans are fully on her side regarding justifications for her choices, so in that sense she is absolutely The Good Guy, but beyond that she's just really bad at saving the world. So if she's not somehow ordained to do it and continually shows a severe lack of skill in this regard... why are the characters/the viewer rooting for her again?

[heretherebedork]

Alright, let's talk internalized homophobia.

Kawi is the poster child for internalized homophobia and how it can cause you to both avoid your own feelings and to attach yourself more strongly to any ideas that can keep you away from what you might actually desire in an effort to keep yourself safe.

This is a immature man who has never gotten past the kneejerk reaction he has to people assuming he's attracting to men. These are two strangers who think he's dating Max... who he's had a serious falling out with and who is, currently, barely willing to speak to him at all and obviously not in contact with him in the future at all.

Kawi is constantly thinking about how people see, how people view him, what will make people like him and what will lead to him being liked by people. And being gay? That won't do. Neither will being poor but he can't really do anything about that, not directly.

Kawi truly doesn't believe that who he is is something people can like. And it goes past being a messy eater, being a bit of a glutton and into just the very concept of who he is. Of him being poor, of having to work through university, of being awkward, of being bi/gay. None of that is acceptable because none of Kawi is acceptable except for the parts he molds to what he believes people expect from him.

This truly comes back to self-acceptance again and again. Kawi is so certain that if just changes himself enough other people will like him and so he rejects every aspect of himself that doesn't fit into that image. He doesn't eat with Pear, he doesn't talk to Max, he couldn't give or explain a broken gift, he can't admit he doesn't have money because none of those are part of how he thinks he has to be, who he thinks he should be but isn't.

It doesn't help, at all, that Piseang is drunk and upset when he grabs him in the future, a decade or more of pining behind him and facing marrying a woman he doesn't love coming out in a way that only pushes Kawi farther away from anything he might desire. (Not that he does at this point, I will absolutely argue that Kawi does not want anything from Piseang at this point in the narrative and will have to learn about his own feelings over the course of the story. Right now he genuinely and wholeheartedly loves Pear.)

That is disgust and discomfort and it is focused on the kiss.

I do think that a lot of Kawi's issues with internalized homophobia stem from whatever happened with Max but also from his own visceral discomfort with himself. Kawi is filled to the brim with self-hatred and the only real break he's ever had from it has been with Pear. Pear, who took care of him with him having to ask. Pear, who smiles at him. Pear, who represents someone from a 'better' kind of society accepting him. Pear represents who Kawi thinks he is supposed love but also who he thinks he's supposed to be. He is supposed to be a straight, rich man who isn't awkward, who takes care of someone else easily, who can be there for her and marry her, who can make his father proud by being exactly who society says he is supposed to be.

But he also experiences disgust at the thought of Piseang kissing him because he is still caught on the idea that he should marry Pear (he, in this case, meaning frankly either one of them) and that it isn't right not to want to marry Pear. I am unwilling to wipe his disgust under the rug because this moment is important. This is not Kawi's reluctance alone. This is someone who has accepted society's idea that being kissed by the same gender is inherently worse than being kissed by someone of the opposite gender. Which feeds, again, into how Kawi is focused on how society views him and believes everything society says about gay people, poor people, shy people, awkward people, sober people, lonely people, so on and so forth.

Kawi is being faced with a choice right now but it isn't what he thinks it is.

He is facing a choice between himself and the world. Between who he truly is and who he wants to be to fit into society.

And to even begin to face that choice, he is going to have to face his own homophobia and his own views of the world. He is going to have to face Max and Knot and Piseang and Pear. He is going to have to look at everything he has experienced and lived and realized that he has been trying to change a fundamental part of himself, many fundamental parts of himself, for his entire life.

Kawi needs to look past what society says about people, about him, and find out for himself what he thinks.

(I am absolutely terrified of how the show might handle this. There are so many layers and so many complications inherently built into the narrative we're seeing and this is based on Jittirain who does not handle nuance well. At all. And who definitely does not handle low self-esteem well. And characters in Jittirain stories tend to bow to whatever she wants the plot to be so... fear. Intrigue... but fear.)

[thesweetnessofspring]

What do you think about Mother's role in characters' life of The Hunger Games series?

Do you think there is correlation of their situation with their action?

Thank you :)

@curiousthg

What I appreciate about Suzanne's writing is that she accounts for the political with the personal and we can see how this plays out with mothers.

The mother we know most about is Mrs. Everdeen. Her husband died due to a mine accident for a material that, given the fact D12 shifts to having medicine factories post-war, likely didn't need to mine coal. In TBOSAS, it's a material for Districts. And you have to question how safe they bother to make the mines. So first--the political system killed her husband. Then the class divide fostered by the Capitol has left her estranged from her old support system and the Seam have to survive on their own because of the inequality the Capitol maintains, and she's incapable of getting the medicine she needs to deal with her catatonic depression. This depression creates (understandable and justified) anger in Katniss, creating a wedge between them. And she continues to lose her rights as a mother when her children are placed into a war without her permission, even her child who is younger than 14, the age of a soldier in D13. Then D13 that was supposed to make the country better chews up and spits out her oldest, and a power-hungry leader kills her youngest.

Katniss says her mother focused her grief in her work. I think that the reason why Mrs. Everdeen did this is because she feels she failed as a mother and is searching for something she can succeed in, which for her is medicine. She lost Katniss's trust years before, and she didn't keep track of Prim well enough to prevent her from going into a warzone, leading to her death. Katniss says that she heard her mother's voice during that time after Prim's death, but she becomes mute and is in grief, and I think in response to seeing her daughter this way, Mrs. Everdeen felt she was a failure in Katniss's eyes. And after the assassination and Katniss's trial, she left for Four. I think she felt useless as a mother by that point and was very deep in her self-loathing, doubting that she could do anything for Katniss or contribute anything to help her.

A lot of people hate Mrs. Everdeen, but I never can. She's not an admirable character, but she's very tragic. She lost her home, Prim, and her equivalent of Peeta, and her eldest daughter has pushed her away for years and only began to regain some relationship when everything got taken again. Katniss was planning on going to the Capitol to die to end the pain of Peeta being lost to her forever and leaving Prim to deal with the consequences, yet she doesn't get hate for that. People are sympathetic. So I wonder...why can't Mrs. Everdeen, too? Why can't people see how the politics have affected her so deeply that she personally has made bad decisions, decisions she needs to ask Katniss forgiveness for, but does not make her an inherently terrible person, but simply makes her human?

As for other mothers, I'm never going to defend Mrs. Mellark, but I would love to see how she ended up where she did. All we know is that she was apparently her husband's second choice of wife. I wonder what her childhood was like and any relevant details for her. Just to see how she became the abuser that she did.

Coriolanus's mom is also wrapped up in the political, to the point where the war interfered with her birth and that lack of medical care resulted in her and her baby's death. And this tragedy affected Coriolanus, though we can't be sure if his mother's presence would have prevented what he became. It's said she was a little ditzy, but he remembers her as loving. Perhaps to deal with her death, Coriolanus had to harden himself to love and made him callous toward other people's pain.

There are other moms, but those seem the most prominent and this is already kinda long so I'll leave things at that!

[sailorblossoms]

Even when Simon is confused and in the shackles of comphet he still believes Baz is inherently desirable and lovable (because he feels that way about him). I think about how much he tries to deceive himself into accepting a situation he's unhappy with, but when look past all the all the metal gymnastics, you’re left with a boy who desires another boy, who can't understand it, and who is jealous of the one of the only friends he has (which hurts him).

When he thinks "why would Agatha want him/what does she see in him?" ... in other media, we have the typical straight jealousy of a guy who is Going Through It because the girl he likes is interested in Another Guy, and Simon tries to operate within the situations and tropes and whatever expectations that come up in those, he tries to fit in that mold... but here, it feels more sincere to see it as Simon despairing not because he's concerned about The Girl's Love Life (he never is, not even when he's supposed to be in it) but because he's concerned about Baz. Because he doesn't want Baz to date anyone.

Simon never thinks of Agatha as desirable. He thinks of her as aspirational, as someone to be like, as a means to and end (belonging, a fantasy, etc). He thinks he should be attracted to her, like there's no choice, like his actual input doesn’t matter (using inanimate objects, which don’t have thoughts or feelings, and later admitting he didn't have any feelings for her either). It’s never "of course Baz would want my girlfriend, who wouldn't? I mean, look at her, she's so pretty! She’s so [insert good qualities here] [hell, Simon doesn’t even give you enough to fill in this sentence]".... Nope, it's the other way around! “Of course Agatha wants Baz” … even things that would make Baz “annoying” are included in the package of what makes Baz desirable for Simon.

That Agatha line about not wanting to break up only because of ball dances and shit, and literally nothing else, says it all. “The only reason you don’t want to break up is because you need a girl to be with in a very public event where you need to look heterosexually accompanied in order to fit in, but we don’t need to do that, we can just be friends” is essentially what it’s said. And friendship is all Simon actually wants from her: when he should be talking about her as girlfriend, he’s glaringly only saying they have only ever been friends, what type of friend she is, how they became friends, etc.

All of this is to say is… with that line I mentioned, what truly bothers Simon the most is that, in a moment where he can’t contemplate or understand anything outside of heteronormativity… he’s longing for Baz, but he fears his friend, a beautiful girl, will be the one to have him. He’s bothered and hurting because he sees Agatha as competition (snatching Baz’s handkerchief away and keeping it to himself, being bothered by the implication that she knows him better than him) and because can’t stand the idea of her “winning” (doesn’t he literally think “anyone but him” about Agatha pursuing someone romantically? going by memory here). And this is further complicated by Agatha being a close friend, and what if she also has feelings for him? What if she says she wants him because she loves him? What if he loves her back? (He’s bothered and angered when he thinks he’s hearing Baz say “I don’t care about her, I was just playing with her for no reason” which is a genuinely shitty thing to do, as opposed to “I don’t care” = “I don’t have romantic feelings for this person,” and Simon doesn’t truly want confirmation of Baz being actually bad, but at same time, he absolutely doesn’t want to hear Baz say he paid her attention because he wanted her. Even Baz simply holding her hands got him extremely fucked up). All of this are things keeping good ol’ Simon up at night. (Besides the whole “measuring success and fitting in by dating heterosexually in a way that I believe is aspirational” of it all further complicating any realization or contributing to feelings of betrayal. But at the heart of it, I think it’s as simple as “my friend wants the same guy I want”)

[dukeofankh]

I ran across Ann Cahill when Julia Serano mentioned her in "Sexed Up", and the concept of Derivatization was honestly fascinating to me. I think Kant was a fucking loser and basing a feminist sexual ethic off of his work was probably one of the biggest mistakes feminism could have made. Like, he literally felt that any and all sex was de facto unethical. Why would you use that as a starting point. Jesus. (Both a swear and an explanation for why Kant was such a dipshit)

And like, Overcoming Objectification has a lot of really interesting ideas, but it's fascinating to see someone like...intentionally avoid developing them to their full explanatory potential? In essence, Cahill is anti-sex work. She thinks objectification is a shitty tool to attack sex work with, because she feels that the distinction between mind and body is artificial and fake. Everyone is a body who thinks, not a mind piloting a meat suit, and acting as though porn is bad because it values the meat suit over the disembodied soul who's the real you saddles your argument with the philosophical equivalent of a big glowing Zelda boss weak point. It also means that any time that someone is...you know, physically attracted to anyone else, then they're treating them like an animal or an object instead of what they should be treated like, which is a chaste 18th century disembodied mind.

And Cahill likes physical attraction! She likes sex! She doesn't want to give up her own sex life just so that she can tell other people what to do with theirs! But she does still want to tell other people what to do with theirs. And so she comes up with Derivatization.

And it's honestly a pretty solid concept. Like, in essence it's the idea that what's unethical and dehumanizing about situations we'd normally call "objectifying" isn't that you're being treated like a soulless sex doll, it's that you're being treated as derivative of someone else's fantasy as opposed to a separate, unique person. Like, she points out that in plenty of situations, people who are being "objectified" are expected to express quite a bit of agency, actually. She uses the example of a pornstar being expected to exclaim just how much she's enjoying what's going on, or a dominatrix having to fulfil a very specific fantasy for a male sub that is all, in his fantasy, an extension of her desires, even her absolute power over him, despite the fact that the specificity of his fantasy doesn't really actually leave her any actual choices of her own to make. Serano uses this concept to talk about the difference between attraction and fetishization, a use of it that is very solid, and frankly, her using the concept in a better way than Cahill does.

Because like, the thing about this is that Cahill doesn't actually want to work through the implications of this. Her chapter discussing whether men can be derivatized short-circuits hard, forgetting her own insight that someone can be derivatized for their agency, and uses the subjectivity running through most portrayals of masculine sexuality as evidence that derivatization can't be happening. She also seems to think that groups of women discussing and building a shared sense of ideal masculine sexuality is a fundamental impossibility in a patriarchal society, meaning that derivatization is kind of inherently and eternally one-sided. The book was written in 2011, so booktok wasn't a thing yet, but AO3 sure the fuck was so she's just straightforwardly not correct, even at publishing.

And like...it doesn't even do the thing it was supposed to do. It doesn't make a solid argument against sex work. Like, she basically just says, "Well, ethical sex involves both parties encountering an Other and adjusting to their uniqueness, and in porn, it's women just doing whatever men think is hot. AND THAT'S THE ONLY WAY IT CAN HAPPEN." Putting aside whether that's true--which it isn't--she's clearly aware that casual sex for fun and a job for money are different. So she comes up with these truly baffling metaphors.

She basically says that obviously, if she hires a lawyer to write a will for her, it's not happening because one person's whole self is based on just giving people money for legal documents and the other person's self only and exclusively enjoys writing legal documents for money. The fact that she's reductively engaging with the lawyer exclusively to fulfil her specific fantasy--of having a will that makes sense--isn't unethical...because the lawyer has skills that she doesn't have. She has money, the lawyer has expertise, so it's an interaction of equals! So in her mind, if there was a kind of sex work where the person was like "well, I'm horny but I don't know why or what I would do about it, I'll go and see a sex worker because they're the experts and I'll grow as a human being because of it." then it'd be fine.

Which, sure, that sounds like a fun little concept, if it wasn't the sole example of ethical sex work you were willing to accept. Then it sounds like a pretty impassibly high barrier, on purpose. And it's a ridiculous double standard, because that is not, actually, the only form of business transaction we consider ethical in our current society. If I had a lawn and I hired someone to mow it for me, I would not need to be sitting there staring at my overgrown lawn, flummoxed and frustrated, before calling the local lawn care experts, if I wanted the transaction to be ethical. Maybe I'm just fucking busy. Maybe I have too much money and also too much lawn. If I pay someone a fair wage to do something for me, and we both think "nice, good deal." Then hey. Ethics. Found 'em.

Like, I could rant about this book for hours, honestly, but this is already a staggeringly long post. And I do wanna say, I will still use derivatization as a term, I think it's got legs. Especially with the lens used by Serano, a much less sex-negative feminist. Like I've said before, everyone usually has a little bit of a point. Even if it's a good point made as part of a larger, pretty bad argument against something I think is fine.

[astrobei]

prompt from @strangeswift: "literally anything madwheeler. them bonding, them in the future being besties, them arguing... whatever you want. just them."

It might only be her first week of high school, but Max is already so over it. 

It meaning everything. The cramped desks, the giant textbooks, the smell of the locker rooms after third period gym. The way that there had been some plausible deniability, in middle school, about the inherent repulsiveness of teenage boys– and now any minute trace of that is gone, because holy fucking shit, it’s like all of a sudden, deodorant has just totally ceased to exist.

Which isn’t great for someone like Max, by the way, who stands a glorious five-foot-three– also known as the perfect armpit height for the average pubescent boy.

Yeah. She’s so over it.

If walking the hallways hadn’t been abhorrent enough because of this and this alone– which it is, mind you, it’s plenty bad enough– there’s everything else. Everything else meaning the looks. The stares and the glances and the whispers following her as she walks from first period English to second period Geometry, trying her hardest to not get violently lost in the hallways like a total freshman. It’s embarrassing enough being a freshman, right, because you don’t know where your classes are and you have to run to the cafeteria to get a good seat and you’re not completely jaded yet, so people can one hundred percent tell that you’re new.

Max is used to being the new girl. She’s used to holding her head high and marching down the hall like she knows the school like the back of her hand, when in reality, she’d never stepped foot in it before that morning. So the being a freshman thing is a certain kind of clumsy spotlight that she doesn’t mind.

What she does mind, however, is the dead brother thing.

Stepbrother, technically. As if that makes it any better, the way that her mom won’t look at her and suddenly there’s beer in the fridge where her mom never used to keep any before. If that makes the pitying glances and whispers as she passes by any better. As if that takes away from any of it.

She knows what the girls, especially, are thinking. So few casualties at Starcourt, and Billy Hargrove– the cool new boy from California, the one with the cool car and the charm and the hair and the lifeguard job at the pool– Billy Hargrove had to be the one to die.

Max supposes she can’t really blame them either. It’s easy to get caught up in someone from afar. Easy enough to get too caught up on the ridiculous amounts of body oil and the gross open front shirts and the hair they spend hours on every day to really see the small stuff.

Like how they’re an asshole, maybe. An asshole who caked the whole house up with the stench of cigarette smoke and stale beers and sweat. An asshole who liked to push people down to lift himself up. An asshole who bullied little kids just to make himself big again, who–

The girls didn’t see any of that, of course. Max is happy for them, despite the glares and the whispers and the pity. No one deserves to see that. Let them remember Billy as a hero. The king of Hawkins High.

Don't speak ill of the dead, et cetera. It's fine. This is a secret she can shoulder on her own.

Max swings the locker door open, shoving her Geometry textbook into her bag with a soft grunt. Another reason to hate high school– or maybe love it– is that she’s going to get so scary jacked by the end of the year.

“You’re not going to tryouts today?”

The voice behind her makes her jump, even though the hallway is just as crowded and cacophonous as it always is. Mike Wheeler is looming over her, one hand clutching tight at the strap of his backpack, looking, for all intents and purposes, like he’d rather be anywhere but here.

Max frowns. “Tryouts?”

“Lucas has tryouts today,” Mike explains, slow and condescending like he’s trying to explain long division to a toddler. “Remember?”

“Of course I remember,” Max says immediately, which definitely makes her sound guilty of not remembering. But she had remembered. Of course she had remembered. It was all Lucas talked about for the last month. Basketball tryouts for the high school team. He’d said high school team like it was the big leagues that were personally recruiting him, as if he weren’t going out for JV.

“Right,” Mike says. Predictably, he doesn’t sound like he believes her. “You’re really not going?”

Max bristles. “What’s it to you?”

“Because Lucas is my friend,” Mike huffs, “and I’ve had to listen to him mope all week about you being too busy to see him at tryouts.”

“Yeah, so?” Max leans down to zip her backpack closed, the zipper catching momentarily on a stray notebook corner. She heaves it onto her shoulder and tries to pretend like it’s not as heavy as it is. Jesus H. Christ. “I can’t help being busy, Wheeler.”

“You’re not busy.”

“Yeah? How would you know?”

“Because you don’t do anything,” Mike scowls, falling into easy step beside her as she speeds down the hallway to class. The bell is going to ring any moment and– damn it.

She’s definitely lost.

Whatever, it’s fine. Geometry is, uh. It’s here somewhere. She just has to get Wheeler off her trail and then she’ll be free to be lost and confused in peace. Do not engage, she thinks. He’ll never shut up if you engage.

“You– I do things,” Max protests, despite herself. “I– I have homework.”

“Bullshit,” Mike scowls some more. He’s been scowling a lot lately, ever since summer ended. It doesn’t take an idiot to figure out why. El isn’t talking to him and the For Sale sign in front of the Byers’ just got taken down and replaced with an obnoxiously happy Sold! sign, and now Mike Wheeler’s got a dark little cloud of rain and gloom following him around like a lost little puppy. “It’s the first week of ninth grade. We have no homework.”

Max grits her teeth. “What do you want me to say? You want me to get down on my knees and grovel for forgiveness? I’m allowed to be busy, okay, Mike, I don’t owe Lucas anything, we’re not dating anymore–” 

“Yeah but you’re still his friend!” Mike exclaims, throwing his hands up and nearly smacking someone walking towards them in the face. The boy scowls. Mike ignores him.

Max looks away. Was it a right down this hallway or a left? Whatever. She goes right.

“Whatever,” she says. “Of course we’re friends.”

“Friends show up.” Mike jabs her in the shoulder with one finger, and she bats his hand away. “Friends show up. You know he’ll be so sad if you don’t–”

“Yeah?” Max spins around to face him, and jabs him in the chest with one finger, just for good measure. Mike makes an offended noise and rubs at the spot with his other hand. Not so nice, is it? “Yeah? Well if friends show up, when was the last time you went to Will’s?”

Mike blanches. “That’s– different,” he gets out. Max feels a guilty rush of satisfaction at his expression, at striking a nerve. Not so nice, is it?

“Friends show up,” she parrots gleefully. “But I know you’ve been avoiding him, so why can’t I avoid–”

“Me and Will aren’t you and Lucas,” Mike splutters, face going from a ghostly sort of white to a splotchy red all in the span of one and a half seconds. “Me and Will aren’t–”

Max waits, raising an eyebrow. “You and Will aren’t what?”

Mike ignores her. “Don’t turn this around on me,” he says. “This isn’t about me.”

“Feels an awful lot like the pot calling the kettle black, Wheeler,” Max says anyway. “What is this? Some sort of intervention? Did Lucas put you up to this?”

“No way. He doesn’t know.”

Max lets out a sigh, not bothering to hide her frustration. “Then why do you care? Why can’t you just screw off?”

“Because Lucas is my friend,” Mike presses. The scowl on his face has given way to a stubborn, almost-pleading look. “And you know how much this means to him, and–”

“Well, tough shit, okay?” Max snaps, and Mike’s mouth falls blessedly shut. “I can’t do this right now. I have to go to class and– you can stop following me now, by the way. I don’t need another stalker.”

Mike’s upper lip twitches. “We have second period Geometry together, asshole,” he says, yet somehow not unkindly. “I literally sit next to you.”

Oh. Maybe he does. Max feels a little bad for not noticing, but she hasn’t been noticing a lot of things lately. She’s spent most of the first week focused on drawing as little attention to herself as possible. Getting in and out of class as soon as she can. Running home before anyone can corner her and– God forbid– rope her into hanging out or whatever.

And see, that’s the thing, is that a different version of herself– months ago, when things were good and simple and fun and wonderfully uncomplicated– would have gone. Of course she would have gone. She can’t remember the last time she had friends like this. Definitely not back in California, definitely not right before the move. The summer had been some of the best weeks of her life. Before the– you know, before the shit had totally hit the fan and Billy died and Hop died and El was moving away and she and Lucas broke up. Again.

They’d broken up before too, and they’d always gotten back together, but it seemed like a finality this time. It wasn’t the sort of thing he could make up to her with jewelry and teddy bears and chocolate from Melvald’s with the price sticker scratched off (and Mrs. Byers’ employee discount no doubt utilized).

It was different this time because he didn’t need to make things up to her. Because it wasn’t his fault, and she wasn’t dumping his ass because he’d been immature and loud and thoughtless in typical thirteen-year-old fashion.

He’d been the opposite, actually.

She turns away from Mike before he can see her face.

Lucas had been so composed about it, so mature. He hadn’t rolled his eyes or scoffed or been frustrated when she’d said it. He’d been– quiet. Sad. Accepting. If that’s what you want, he’d said, and she’d nodded quietly before stepping off the bleachers and walking away. 

It was what she wanted, because it was easier this way, but something still made her frustrated and keyed up at the way he’d said it. Quiet and sad and without a fuss. 

More than anything, Max wants it to be April again, when things were simple. When he’d win her back and deep down she’d be secretly pleased that he hadn’t gotten tired of this inane push and pull. That he wanted her enough to spend his allowance on that teddy bear or those roses. She’d never really been mad at him. That’s just who she was– someone who pushed and pulled on the slightest of whims. Someone who dragged everyone else along with her, just because she could.

“Max?” Mike prompts. “The bell’s going to ring, and we’re in the wrong wing, so–”

The scowl has disappeared from his face a bit. He looks strangely contemplative.

Not angry. Not pitying. Just– looking.

Max takes in a deep breath and crosses her arms. “And you didn’t tell me this before?”

“You were all– all angry and stomping around and– it didn’t seem like the time!”

“Like you’ve ever cared,” she huffs, then spins on her heel and sets off in the opposite direction.

“No, Max– go left.”

“Oh. I knew that.”

She didn’t know that of course, but it’s not like she’s going to say this out loud. Mike catches up to her in three long strides, his bag bouncing obnoxiously against his back. “So?” he prompts, and Max wants to slam her head into the wall and yell. “Are you going?”

“Has anyone ever told you that you’re insanely persistent? Like annoyingly so?”

Mike grins. “I consider it one of my better qualities.”

“You remind me of poison ivy,” Max grumbles, as they turn the corner into the east wing. The bell rings sharply, the sound shrill and tinny through the hall, and she startles. “Oh shit–”

“So you’ll come, right?” Apparently Mike Wheeler doesn’t care about racking up tardies in his first week here. It’s not like Max does either, but she does like to hold the moral high ground.

She shakes her head, almost smiling despite herself. “Why do you want me to so bad?”

“It’s important to Lucas,” Mike insists, “and he’ll want you there. I don’t know how many more times I can say the same damn thing.”

“I don’t think Lucas wants to see me, Mike. I broke up with him, remember?”

At this, Mike stops abruptly, right in the middle of the hallway. Max collides roughly with his shoulder with a shocked gasp.

“Hey! What’s your deal?”

Mike grabs her shoulders, frustrated. “It’s because we– I’ll kill you if you repeat this to anyone, Max, I swear– but we miss you, okay? All of us. We miss you. It’s not that complicated, seriously.”

We miss you.

If she’s being honest, Max hadn’t been aware that there was anything to miss. She visited El, sometimes, after school when the trailer park got dark and lonely and way too quiet. It wasn’t the same as before, though. Things were heavier, sadder. Too many things unspoken, hanging in the air. 

El lived with the Byers now, and sometimes Will would be there too. There was something heavier and sadder about him too, but Max couldn’t quite put her finger on what it was. But surely there was nothing to miss in her absence. The four of them did just fine before she came along– Lucas and Dustin and Mike and–

She glances down at his hands on her shoulders, and gets a brief flash of phantom pain– hands gripping her wrists, too tight, angry. Being pushed against walls, wrestled and manhandled and shoved into the car. Road rage.

So much anger. God, there was so much anger.

She was tired of the anger, but now she doesn’t know what to do without it. Maybe that means there’s something wrong with her. Normal people don’t think like this.

She pulls away sharply. “Don’t touch me.”

Worry flashes across Mike’s face, a split second and then it’s gone. His hands fall limply to his sides. “I– sorry.”

Max feels bad. Really, she does. She wants to go. Really, she does. She wants to laugh and tease Lucas as he misses free throw after free throw, and then congratulate him when he inevitably makes the team anyway, because of course he will. He's a shoo-in, and she wants to run down to the gym after school and shake the nerves out of him and tell him that. She wants to go.

She wants–

Mostly, though, she just wants to be left the hell alone.

“I’m sorry,” she says, and Mike’s face falls, ever-so-slightly. The guilt swells up inside her and she looks down at her shoes. They’re getting even more late with every second she waits here, unmoving, and yet– “I really can’t.”

Mike doesn’t say anything for a moment. Then he sighs, and reaches for the handle of the door to the classroom, pausing for a moment before opening it. “Next time?”

It’s weirdly hopeful. Max swallows the guilt back down. “Next time,” she lies, and follows him inside.

[elvisabutler]

jealousy

summary: you know better than to talk to other guys sometimes in elvis's ear shot. elvis reminds you of why. fandom: austin butler | elvis ( 2022 ) | elvis presley pairing: austin butler elvis x female reader rating: m. word count: 2100 warnings: throat fucking. possessiveness. big daddy elvis ( so '74 to '77 timeframe ). mildly dubious consent. elvis's paranoia. elvis's prescription drug use. daddy kink, because elvis does actually refer to himself as daddy in this. gratuitous use of nicknames ( lil one, baby, honey, darlin', the whole nine yards ). mild hint of face fucking. kind of faintly almost d/s element but not quite. oral ( m receiving, f implied/referenced ) author's note: welcome to day 29 for kinktober, throat fucking with austin!elvis. okay so everyone needs to thank @butlersxbirdy for this one since at the time she and I literally were losing it over big daddy elvis. we still are, but it was basically hey which version of austin elvis should i do, and she was like big daddy without missing a beat. i'll have a 68 special version out possibly tonight or tomorrow but this one got top billing because i wanted to. but basically everyone else gives you soft big daddy, i'll give ya some fucked up big daddy. ( i'm going to give y'all a very very soft big daddy for the holiday season, don't worry. ) imagine whoever, this is supposed to be austin elvis but timeline i picked makes it tricky y'all know my particular drill.

Elvis is possessive, a fact that everyone who ever spends longer than two minutes with the man and has him like them is vividly aware of. You are Elvis's or you are not, there is that strict dichotomy that very few if any people break- and you are not one of those people. Priscilla, when you've interacted with her during handoffs for Lisa tells you it didn't used to be this bad, that yes, he could sleep around but she couldn't and that her finding her way into his former karate instructors bed after she left him made him so angry he was almost unrecognizable, but she figured it was fine and would settle down. Then she heard the stories from Linda and now you and- well she likes to pretend you'll calm him down. Not fix him exactly but you've already mildly tempered his pill usage and have him actually eating healthy despite being on the road. Maybe third time's the charm?

Except- here is the inherent problem, you're younger than him, not hard seeing as he's around his 40s but you crave attention in a way that he doesn't always provide. You wouldn't say he disregards the fact that you could leave- oh far from it- his worship of you legendary to all members of the Memphis Mafia and anyone who's had any sort of contact with Elvis as far as touring or recording goes. But sometimes he forgets- sometimes in the haze of his pills and every other thing he forgets that you can run free, you can easily run away from him and never look back- he's spoiled you with enough clothes that even if you had no marketable skills to speak of you could handle yourself on selling his trinkets alone.

You sometimes flirt as easy as breathing, a quality that Elvis will swear up and down is one of his favorite about you- you're pure, baby but Lord have mercy, the things your eyelashes fluttering can do to a man he had once said after you had told him about your sexual history. You flirt and flirt and boy- men- have a tendency to fall for it, tend to become wrapped around your finger in ways that would make your Mama blush. It gives you a rush of power, reminds you that even if Elvis is ignoring you for the fourth day and night in a row that you're attractive, you're the sort of woman men want and it gives you a little pep. But you know as well as anyone that you can't let Elvis hear or see you do what you do when you flirt though so you always make sure it's done out of his earshot, his eyesight and while he's preoccupied.

At least that's usually what you do, it's the fifth day and while you don't mind Elvis leaving you alone for a bit, for a day or two when it starts inching toward a week you can't help but feel bitter and angry. It's that feeling that leads you to where you are, your hand on some guy's- you think his name is Jeff- arm giggling at something that is not even remotely funny but you know how to charm a man. You're wrapped up in trying to make sure he's smiling that you don't hear the telltale sound of Elvis's buckle clanging as he walks up to see what you're doing. You don't notice how your conversation partner freezes as his eyes look behind you. You don't notice the scent of Elvis freshly showered until you feel his heat up against you, until you feel his breath against your neck and until you feel the growl emanate from his deep in his chest. You freeze after that.

"Darlin'." He says, his tone deathly calm. "Who's this? A friend?"

You open your mouth to say something before Jeff ends up muttering something about needing to head off but it was so nice to meet you and you turn to face Elvis a snarl forming before you can even stop it.

"Oh now you want to pay attention to me." You move to make sure Elvis doesn't try and grab for you. "Find someone else and you appear out of thin air."

Elvis's eyes narrow and darken making you very quickly realize you might have messed up. They're not as clear as they have been in the past weeks which means that just maybe he's not all there. That you've stepped into a minefield that he'll take you out of, just not right this moment. You move to grab his arm before he yanks it out of your reach. "Oh no, honey, you know better. I was- Come with me to our room, baby. Think I need to talk to you. Remind you of some things." He turns from you with a growl that has arousal curling low in your abdomen and has you traling after him in a way that sometimes embarrasses you with how eager you are to do it, but you can't stop yourself from doing it nonetheless. The walk and elevator ride up to where he's staying and where you should be staying is a silent one, punctuated only with Elvis grumbling something to himself and your heaving breaths the more you think about what Elvis is planning on doing to you. You enter the room and in an instant find yourself crowded against the wall, Elvis using his both his weight and his arms to make sure you're not moving any time soon. You open your mouth to talk before Elvis shakes his head and cuts you off.

"Ya know how jealous I get lil one. Know how I damn well wanna kill men when they're lookin at you as you're cumming just from me brushin' against ya. And yet ya let one of them think he could have ya." His hand moves to your shoulder and makes a movement like he wants to force you to the ground but he holds off for at least the moment. "Got me so goddamn riled up and jealous, baby. Got your Big Daddy angry. You wanna know what I do when I'm this angry with ya? What I've always wanted t' do when you get me this angry?"

You look at him in what you like to think is an attempt to look innocent, an attempt to charm him with those eyelashes you know he can barely resist only to see the look in his eyes, see the look of barely restrained anger written all over his face and realize that it won't work. The words you had meant to say die on your lips, swallowed in the guip you take as you nod.

"On your knees." He commands and leaves absolutely no room for questioning, his hand remaining on your shoulder in case you need some help getting down. "And deal with my pants while you're at it."

You comply, falling to your knees quicker than you ever thought possible, your hands working at his belt buckle and at the button and zipper of his pants, your hands shaking just a tad as you pull them down. He hadn't asked to have his boxers taken off so you left them, not that it did much to conceal what was happening underneath, how he seemed to be getting harder by the moment.

His hand that was on her shoulder moves to the back of your head, his ring covered hands moving to grip your hair in any way he could. "Little boys wouldn't know what to do with ya. Wouldn't treat ya like I do. Wouldn't have you coming nearly as hard as ya do with me." You shift a little, trying to produce some form of friction between your legs. You're so focused on that task that you don't notice how Elvis's eyes zero in on the motion. All you actually notice is how he ends up letting out a laugh that sounds downright evil. It sounds like that young boy who sang that he was evil and you shiver. "I'm gonna make sure you can't fuckin' talk to them for a week. Gonna wreck your throat so that all you can do is nod for yes daddy." He pauses and growls. "Bet you're gonna cum right now. Bet if I touched you right this second you'd make a mess of the goddamn carpet."

Leaning forward, you start to nuzzle at his cock through his briefs and realize that you can't feel any shame about it. You don't feel any shame about it, too busy trying to calm Elvis down and too busy remembering just why as much as you might want to stray from him when he wanders just a bit- you don't. "Daddy, I would. I would make a mess, but please daddy, you can touch me I want you to touch me."

Elvis yanks at your hair and thus you back a little roughly and you hiss. "No nuzzlin'. This ain't you getting a treat. This is you being reminded who you belong to." His tone is shifting into something that almost sounds like a growl. "Whose thick thighs you cum on. Whose cock you love having in that pretty pussy and mouth. Whose is it, darlin'?"

"Yours." You whine, pulling down his underwear without him actually asking to. "Your thighs, your cock."

His lips curl into a smirk as he uses the grip on your hair to force your face into his crotch. You have the foresight to open your mouth but even so you end up choking a little around his cock. He pauses when he realizes you're struggling, not wanting to hurt you exactly. You grip his thigh as an okay and he continues to push his cock further into your mouth until it's tickling the back of your throat. You swallow involuntarily and Elvis groans, low and in a way you want to hear over and over again. He starts to move, using his grip on your hair to control how quickly he's fucking your mouth, how deep his cock is reaching. You gag a little even as you try and relax just from the sheer force of his cock hitting your throat.

"Swallow, baby, do it again." He murmurs, trying to feel your throat start to constrict around his tip. "Fuckin' love this mouth. Most perfect goddamn mouth. Never gonna let it go. Never gonna let those boys take you from me. I'll shoot 'em before they do. Might not look like 'em anymore but they couldn't handle my girl."

You whimper at the words, your eyes starting to roll in the back of your head as you rut against the floor, wanting to touch yourself but resisting the urge. Elvis is still controlling the pace but you can feel how he's starting to struggle to keep up, his movements becoming a little less controlled, a little less consistent. You help out, making sure your mouth stays on him, that his cock still is hitting the back of your throat until you taste the saltiness of his cum and feel the warmth of it filling your mouth. You swallow, struggling just a little but Elvis doesn't let up, doesn't let you off until he's finished and you've swallowed as much as you can. He finally lets go of your hair and you lean back, breathing heavily, trying to ignore the throbbing of your clit and the mild burn you still feel in your throat.

"Wasn't flirting." You force out, your voice sounding like you had every sore throat known to man at once. You try and swallow thinking it will help before realizing it doesn't. "Want to cum, please."

His eyes are lidded when he looks at you, looking almost like he might want to fall asleep on you before he hums, holding out his hand to you. "Up on the bed. No talking till you come. Wanna hear you scream my name with my face in your pussy."

You take his hand, using the leverage to pull yourself up and frown. "I don't think I can scream. Won't make the noise."

He pulls you close and pulls you into a kiss. "You will. Then you can lose your voice. Then we can both know I fucked that throat of yours completely raw."

If you raise an eyebrow in a challenge, that's your business. And if after that eyebrow you don't speak for another week because you practically croak when you try? Well. That's yours and his business.

[andreal831]

The Depiction of the Werewolves in TO

Once again, I made a quick, I thought funny, tiktok, which has upset some people because of my, you could say, lack of sympathy for the wolves in TO. But don't blame me, blame the writers.

If you know anything about me, you know Hayley Marshall is a top favorite character for me. I love her growth and the journey she went on to find her family. Which is why, when she did find them (excluding the whole betraying Tyler thing), I was upset by how they treated her. You have Jackson telling her he was disappointed in their interaction, you have Oliver taking advantage of her hospitality and betraying her, and then the rest of her family doesn't even greet her/talk to her. She is supposed to be this "princess who is promised," and yet they can't even take a second to get to know her. I get, they have been cursed and are just trying to enjoy their human moments while they can, but it just didn't give me anything to bond with.

Except Eve. I loved Eve. She welcomed Hayley, not as some long lost royal, but as family. Eve is the first, and really only, werewolf/family that we, as the audience, get to see Hayley bond with. We see her helping Hayley prepare for her baby as well as teaching her about their culture. It's implied others are helping as well, but we never get to see it. It all happens off screen. I just know, if Eve had been alive, she would have been by Hayley's side after she "lost" Hope.

Which makes it so much worse when Oliver kills Eve. And all for power. This is where my dislike for the New Orleans werewolves comes in. Any other time we meet wolves, there is a strong sense of loyalty. You hear, Tyler and Jules and even Hayley talk about the packs they have been with and you see them working together to avoid/fight off Klaus. But then we get to the Crescent wolves and learn that they have been trying to kill each other for power. Not just in the past, we actively see Oliver get his own pack members killed and then kill Eve with zero consequences. Yes, Oliver does die, but not because of that. He is still given a proper burial, something we don't even get to see for Eve.

Now, an argument people use a lot with the wolves is that they are the oppressed. But this argument, to me, comes more from the historical portrayal of werewolves and less from the sources material we are discussing. Throughout much media, the wolves are meant to represent the oppressed -- the poor and downtrodden -- who have been taken advantage of by the blood-sucking aristocrats, the vampires. But in TO, Jackson tells us that the werewolves were at the top of the food chain until in-fighting got the better of them.

And we see this in flashbacks to 1919. Lana Lebonair is working with the Mikaelsons and they are able to create peace in the city with the witches. After the Mikaelsons flee, we don't know exactly what happened, but we know leading up to the 1990s there had been enough in-fighting that the Lebonairs and Kenners had set up an arranged marriage in hopes to quell the civil war that had broken out.

Unlike in other depictions of werewolves, the wolves were not inherently oppressed. The first werewolf we ever meet is Tyler Lockwood, who was by no means strapped for cash. In 1919, the Crescents were living in the Quarter, partying right alongside everyone else. It wasn't until their own members made power grabs did they have issues.

In hindsight, we are told these power grabs are due to the Hollow and someone implied that Marcel should have investigated the werewolves civil war before cursing all of them. First, I don't necessarily support Marcel in everything he does. To me, in Season 1, he was very much like Klaus and it was not my favorite version of him. Should he have cursed an entire pack for the actions of a handful, probably not. But the way Marcel talks about it, it was not just a handful, the entire pack was at war with itself. And the curse only applied to those who had triggered the curse or did trigger the curse, so no children. Again, was there a better solution, maybe, but was it up to Marcel to realize a ancient spirit had possessed one of their leaders when not even his wife had realized? That may be asking too much. Especially after he was watching them try to butcher a baby.

Due to this curse, the werewolves do end up isolated in the bayou. The curse lasts for about 20 years so many of the young members miss out on much of their early adulthood. This is something the show should have gone in on more. In my story, I try to explore this idea that, because of the curse, the werewolves are really disenfranchised. However, in the show, we don't get that. The only wolves we deal with are the leaders who are essentially using their pack as a power play. Aiden is the only leader who seems to be aware that these decisions are impacting the entire pack, and he gets reprimanded for speaking out. Aiden is so desperate to save his pack that he goes to his enemies (Elijah and Marcel) to protect the children from the decisions of his own pack members.

To me, the beauty of the werewolves comes from their loyalty, from how they work together and support each other. The depiction of the Crescent wolves flies in the face of everything I typically love about packs. The leaders abandon each other, have little respect for each other, and for some reason they have a monarchy. Hayley and Aiden are the only leaders we truly see fighting for the pack, and they are often disrespected by the very members they are trying to help.

In Season 1, Hayley is torn between the people who took her in and the pack that she always wanted to find. She ends up in the middle of the conflict and the pack (Oliver) often throws that in her face and uses her as a pawn to try and manipulate the Mikaelsons while also disrespecting her over and over again. But the thing is, they didn't need a pawn. They never tried to open discussions. Hayley marches into a faction meeting angry that the werewolves were not included in the discussion, but they had never asked to be included. As Elijah points out, the meeting was to divide up the Quarter and the wolves do not live in the Quarter. If you are familiar with New Orleans, you know the nearest bayou is about an hour drive away. But when Hayley asked (demanded) to be in the conversation, she was immediately included. She then signed a treaty saying the wolves would help create peace, only for her to go back to the bayou to discover Jackson and Oliver were both working behind her back to make a side deal with Klaus for more power. Instead of building peace, they were again lobbying for power. The very thing that got them cursed in the first place.

Someone argued, 'of course they are trying to get power, they don't want to be cursed again.' And sure, but even when they get their power from Hayley, it doesn't stop them from being cursed by Dahlia. But maybe if they had made friends with the witches, they would have been able to get help from Davina earlier than they did.

It's easy to look at each faction and point out how they've been wronged, but as Hayley points out, they've all harmed each other. If they all wanted reparations for that harm, it would never end. The wolves seem to get the short end of the stick a lot, because, as Jackson says, they were never unified. The witches were and the vampires were. It's not up to the other factions to cut them a break because they couldn't get it together. At the end of it all, they needed to move forward and worry about the future of their people. Which is what Hayley and Lana do leading up to Season 5, when New Orleans was able to actually achieve peace. Not surprising it took women being in charge before the pack found unity.

I would also like to point out that in my post I had also called out Klaus and Marcel. I am not solely blaming the werewolves for the war in New Orleans. But it is incorrect to say the werewolves were innocent bystanders in it. Their history is just as bloody as the other factions. The only faction that was innocent was the human faction who truly did not get a seat at the table. And of course, in any war, the people who ended up paying for these power moves were good people like Sophie and Eve.

[voidcommascreamintothe]

On how people think Nesta is the abuser in early acotar

Okay, so..

1) the series was never supposed to be more that three books, therefore all secondary characters are bland and not developed that well, or at all.

2) Nesta’s and Elain’s primary- dare I say, only, narrative purpose in the first book was to get us, the audience on board with Feyre’s decision to stay in the Spring Court fairly early in the story. Ugly (step)sisters as narrative shorthand for “main girl’s life is awful so she needs to skedaddle very quickly”.

Now that we have that out of the way, Nesta in book one is so very different than the Nesta in the other books. I remember reading these books (the first time round) and getting whiplash at how different the characterization was for both sisters really.

I am aware that a lot of people are very passionate about their defense of Feyre, but I beg you, down on my knees with my hands clasped in a prayer, i beg you to realize that these were children and teenagers we are talking about. Children and teenagers that were never taught how to love. Nesta was never taught how to be nice, only how to seduce a rich husband, with perfectionism beaten into her. It very clearly states, in book four, that Nesta is all claws and sharp edges because she was forced to be that. And so when the time came to reign in that spitefulness, she realized it became a permanent feature of herself.

I do not think people realize just how difficult it is to learn how to show and accept love, even more so when you have to teach yourself in adulthood because you are trying to better yourself. Well I do.

This might count as insider trading: I am privy to this perspective because i have lived through something similar, but somewhere along the way, you do it because you need to forgive yourself and because it is the right thing to do; not to seek validation/forgiveness from others. Truly healing means accepting that you cannot change the past, and that you cannot make others accept your apology. But you apologize because it’s the right thing to do.

The beauty of Nesta’s book, is that you, dear audience member and beloved reader, do not have to forgive Nesta, she does not want it. The character you are defending already forgave her, so you become slightly less relevant in their story.

Tangentially related, but Feyre tried to reach out to Nesta multiple times in order to make amends, and only gave up when Rhys stepped in.. Foreshadowing is a narrative technique-

Insisting that a child can be abusive, insisting that CHILD Nesta was abusing Feyre is a dangerous line of thinking.

Child neglect and abuse is a heavy topic, and I don’t think I am educated enough to speak on it. All I will say is that assuming that every older child that grew up in a neglectful home in inherently abusive/neglectful themselves is an abhorrent thought to have. Being mean and outwardly cruel to people you love because you don’t know how to love them is not abuse, it is a cry for help.

In this scenario, we are talking about Nesta’s INACTION and lack of contribution. That is not abuse. It is of grave importance that people realize this. Nesta was groomed to be one thing and one thing only, a perfect wife. She was never taught how to love and care for her sisters, and had to learn this in adulthood, much like how Feyre had to do the same.

However Feyre was given grace, given support and understanding, given enough space to learn how to love freely and how to be loved.

The entire second book is about this. Do you people not read?

Nesta on the other hand, is ever only given this kind of treatment in book four, by Gwyn and Emerie: two characters that are removed from the Inner Circus and Rhysand. It is only when Rhysand suggests, and subsequently steamrolls over Feyre’s hesitations, that Nesta is removed from Feyre’s space, and Feyre herself stops reaching out. Only because Rhys mettles.

Like I stated above, foreshadowing is a narati-

Like many of you, Rhysand loves Feyre, and goes to extreme lengths to protect her and keep her safe. However, he is extremely biased against Nesta, pouring all of his anger at how mistreated Feyre was onto Nesta. Nesta bears the brunt of his terribly misguided attempt to protect Feyre, and Elain is left on the sidelines, just like she was when she tried to take accountability for her own failure during the Archeron’s poverty era. And yet, Rhysand ignores this.

Elain is viewed as the innocent child that is incapable of coherent thought. Elain is much softer in appearance therefore is considered to be almost incapable of carrying blame. Somehow, most likely because Nesta does not conform nor does she assimilate into Fae life the way Elain does, Elain is perceived to be the “good one”. Make no mistake, Rhysand keeps Elain around to use her against Nesta- the scrying incident in Silver Flames; he does not really respect her. Otherwise he would have held her just as responsible as Nesta. Instead, he and the others, treat Elain like a dimwit and Nesta as the pariah.

All of this, this being Rhysand being kind of a shitty dude, all of it would have been fine, were it not for the fact that Rhysie is consistently justified by the narrative. He is clearly the favourite character if the author and is always positioned to be the Moral Compass of the story, and therefore always positioned to be the one who is in the right. All of Rgysand’s moves and decisions are made out to be the decision, the only correct ones, the ones that the audience is supposed to have/share/approve of,

The fact that us girlies are having a tussle over a lot of the female characters simply because on how the narrative favors a male character, and how that male character keeps meddling in women’s affairs, is honestly some kind of profound irony.

The author’s inability to let go of her favoritism of said male character is boiling my piss and curdling my menstrual blood.

Bonsoir.

Ps.

Being mean and outwardly cruel to people you love because you don’t know how to love them is not abuse, it is a cry for help.