#tw; abuse of power

[terrence-silver]

This is not an apocalyptic scenario but ❛ you are making it very difficult to keep you alive. ❜ sounds like Terry Mccain when beloved goes grocery shopping alone 😃

---

It was a tale as old as time; Terry McCain deliberately tampered with your front entrance's doorknob, covertly, during the night, with no hallway cameras in sight and he wrote it off as the sort of antisocial, delinquent activity that simply happens in Chicago, even in downtown residential buildings.

Naturally, he took over the issue immediately.

Ever the gentleman, gently cooing and quelling your concern at your door being so savagely damaged by some lowlife, some criminal, some creep, someone trying to break in and failing (for now), some individual with the last intentions in mind, calling a repairman, someone entirely reliable --- someone who regularly fixed things around the station too and then he prolonged the problem to ridiculous degrees, ever so politely, to ensure adorning your front door with a new knob takes as long as possible. Weeks, if need be. Ideally, if some fantastic fairytale scenario, forever. Might've reminded the guy on the task that he had a badge and that he's willing to maintain order and peace with it if he screws anything up and moves any faster than he should. Was it abuse of position? No, it was for you. Because of you. But why, one would ask? What was the motive behind it? Apocalypse was the motive. The end of times and the end of days. The second coming of Christ almighty. Whenever you went out alone, on the streets, in stores and groceries, out and about, on endless sidewalks, surrounded by other pedestrians and a million strangers with a million rotten objectives in mind, here and there and everywhere, Terry McCain was only ever plagued by one consistently intrusive and haunting thought; What if.

What if you died?

What if you were taken?

Kidnapped?

Hurt?

Mugged?

Shot dead somewhere?

Or worse yet, assaulted?

You were making it very difficult to keep you alive if you moved.

You never understood the danger.

Because you were never exposed to it daily like he was.

No. If you had no doorknob to speak of for the time being, winning him some time, and no functional door to lock once you left somewhere, no matter where it was, it was simply logical you'd go nowhere, keeping movements to a standstill with such extensive renovations occurring in your flat and that you'd let him handle things and run your errands for you while you were safely at home, repairman tinkering away and disassembling (and re-assambling) the brutalized mechanism at a snail's pace and the looming threat of a fictional somebody picking at your keyhole at night --- some mystery individual. It wasn't malice he did this out of. Terry cared, is all. Terry loved you. You were Terry's whole world. And the idea of losing you to some easily preventable, stupid freak accident that could happen due to a mere moment of negligence on his behalf? It was too much. And so Friday night, long since after the repair guy has left, not coming back until Monday, having concluded nothing where fixing anything was concerned, a piece of furniture utilized to maintain the door shut for the time being --- after climbing up to your floor with groceries after his shift, Terry plants a kiss on your cheek, offering to keep your company at night from now on. To take care of you in this unprecedented situation.

You eagerly waited for him all day. Like you should.

-"Finding good help ain't easy nowadays. You know how it is. Whole city's gone crazy. He's a nice, trustworthy guy, though. Just a bit clumsy, is all."- He remarks from the kitchen on the subject of the repairman, setting the plastic bags down on the counter. Everything you and he needed for the weekend together.

This was good.

He liked things like this.

He wanted to live like this with you.

-"If it never gets fixed,"- He quips from the doorway, in all seriousness, a joke interlaced with conviction, almost giving is plan away, wrapped in several layers of meaning, looking at you intently, ready to ask you what you wanted for dinner tonight so he could make it. -"You can always ditch this place and move in with me where it's safe."-

[allurilove]

Yandere Professor x you

Rated 18 + — mature short content !

Includes: sweet talking, breath play, age gap, fucking in his classroom, pretty gender neutral, manipulation, abuse of power, obsessed professor.

*Everyone is of age, and older than eighteen. He is referred to as “your professor” his only existence is to be obsessed with the reader, and without you, he ceases to exist. This is purely fictional writing!*

Synopsis: He’s your strict professor, and you’re trying to get a better grade. You’ve never seen him be swayed by a student before, perhaps you would be the first.

Your grade has tanked by a lot. You had an unreasonable professor, the man was picky, and on your last test it was covered in corrections by that damn red pen of his.

You began to wonder what it would take for him to give you an A.

You wouldn’t consider yourself to be a bad student. In fact, this is the first time you have been close to failing. It was honestly your fault, you’ve read the reviews on this teacher and still chose to take the class anyways. You just wanted to challenge yourself.

You gawk at the paper he hands back to you. Your eye twitched at the big fat zero out of a hundred, and that might’ve been impressive just in itself. Not even one question right. You narrow your eyes at the professor who was still handing out the quiz back to the students.

When class ended, you slowly packed up your things, and you kept tabs on how many students were still left in the classroom. When the last student left, you got up from your seat, and stormed your way over to the professor.

Any sliver of dignity you had was gone. Your cheeks still flushed when he announced the lowest score to the whole class. You pushed that memory aside, and you crossed your arms as you stood in front of his desk.

“I don’t have time for this.” Your professor sighed, and his brows furrowed as he loosened up his tie.

He knew why you were coming over to talk to him. This was the worst grade you have gotten in his class. And really, he’s not surprised. In his opinion you have been slacking off. Your body bristles at his words, his eyes are cold and unforgiving.

Maybe if you weren’t a rash individual, you would’ve seen that his comments on your test was totally fake. Every circle and outline with a tiny scribble on the side? That was his way of professing his love for you, and about fifty “I love you’s.” were on the paper, but he knew you wouldn’t read them.

He did know that the grade would haunt you. He did know that it would make you desperate enough to come to him during office hours.

Your professor watched you with amusement as you crawled onto his lap, and you guiding his hands onto your body. He could already feel his dick stirring in his pants.

“This is hardly appropriate.” He said in a disapproving tone, though his hands do cup at your chest.

His thumb circles around your nipple, and the rest of his fingers gently squeeze at opportunity you have given to him. His other arm wrapped around your waist, holding you firmly in his lap.

It felt like you were trying to chip away at his resolve, his face was stern, and he listens to you rant on about the grade he gave you. Though, him letting you sit on his lap, let you subtly grind on his growing erection. With every whine and pout, you tried to play with his heart strings.

Your professor sighed, shook his head, and tried to pretend that there was no way you could make up for it. His hand slowly, and quietly, opening his drawer to grab for a condom.

It didn’t take long for him to agree when you took off his glasses, your lips capturing his in a searing kiss. He followed your lead, letting you feel like you were in control.

His hands groping at your ass and he puts you onto his desk, his body moving his way in between your legs. You wore something easy to slip off, your shorts and underwear now down to your ankles. He caressed your inner thighs, his lips now trailing down to your neck.

Your professor licked and sucked at your skin, his teeth gently nibbling at you, and he made sure to leave marks.

“You can be quite cute like this…” The older man mumbles, “…so pretty, so perfect.” he took a deep inhale as his nose was buried into your neck.

“Oh shit.” Your professor growled, his belt falling to the floor and his pants were pulled down roughly.

Before you knew it, he ripped open the condom wrapper and he slid it on his cock. He spit on his hand for lube, and gave his member a few pumps. He aligned his tip against your warmth.

His hands wrapped around your throat, squeezing the side of it, as his hips began to rock itself. His dick hit the deepest part of you, he went slow, and he was determined to find your sweet spot.

“Don’t be upset…” He cooed, and he kissed you in between his words. “I had to give you a zero.”

“You weren’t understanding my hints.”

He needed you. He wanted to be with you the moment you stepped inside his room, or maybe it was when he found out you signed up for his class. Your name was interesting to him, your looks, and the way you carried yourself got him hooked.

He took a couple points off on your first test, just to see what you would do. You certainly didn’t deserve it, and he thought you would’ve challenged him on it, or come talk to him. Or even offer your body to him sooner.

He did it over and over again, until you were on the verge of receiving an F. He was getting frustrated, and you were a damn tease.

He was never like this before, and if you exposed him, he could lose his job. But maybe then he could be with you in public? He let out a deep groan, his eyes rolling back as he was fucking you for his release.

Your professor didn’t realize that your face was turning pink, your nails scratching at his hands that were on your throat, and you were on the verge of cumming. You gasp as he finally let you breathe, his hands now on the desk behind you.

The room was filled with his vocalizations, his whimpers, his mumbles of how good you feel, and how much he needed this.

He even called you his baby, his good student, love, and when you finally came— his eyes were glued to the white substance dripping out of you.

That was when he knew you were going to be his. He was going to be the only one that could make you feel this way.

That day, you received the A you have been wanting. But you also indulged the man that’s been pining after you, and he never stopped.

Allure: Idk why, but i’ve been really active lately omg.

[anetherealpoetess]

Neil Gaiman, let’s be realistic. A 21-year-old working in the home of a man four decades her senior cannot truly give meaningful consent to any type of sexual encounter, let alone within mere hours of meeting him. Even though you are denying it was not consensual, the fact you have conceded the sexual encounter did happen at all is a full confession. You are, by your own admission, a predator.

[headspace-hotel]

"New (old) perspectives on self-injurious and aggressive biting" published in Journal of Applied Behavior Analysis / Nine Inch Nails- The Hand that Feeds

I was troubled to see a trend of claiming that Autistic people who do not support Applied Behavior Analysis (ABA) are a group of "low-support-needs" autistics who are monopolizing the conversation and taking resources away from autistics with higher support needs—I think it is misunderstanding.

Individual positive or negative experiences with ABA are irrelevant here—the fundamental core of the therapy is behaviorism, the idea that an autistic person can be "treated" by rewarding "desirable" behaviors and punishing "undesirable" behaviors, and that an increase in desirable behaviors and decrease in undesirable behaviors constitutes successful treatment

In researching I found that ABA practitioners have published statements condemning conversion therapy. They refer to an unfortunate historical association between ABA and conversion therapy, but it is not association—ABA literally is conversion therapy; the creator of it used it to try to "cure" little boys that were too feminine.

ABA is considered "medically necessary" treatment for autism and the only "proven" treatment, in that it is proven to create decrease in "undesirable" behaviors and increase in "desirable" behaviors.

Undesirable behaviors for an autistic person might include things like stimming and talking about their interests, desirable behaviors might include eye contact, using verbal speech, playing with toys in the "right" way.

The BCBA behavior analyst code of ethics does not prohibit "aversive" methods (e.g. electric shock) to punish undesirable behaviors

The code of ethics only discusses the consent of the "client," not the person receiving the treatment

Many people will say "my child's ABA therapist would never make them repress harmless stims, give up their interests, use electric shocks...They understand the value of neurodiversity and emphasize the consent of the child..."

But consider...if nothing binds or requires an ABA therapist to treat stimming as important, nor restrains them from using abusive techniques, nor requires them to consider the consent of a person being treated, what protects vulnerable people other than luck? The ABA therapist still has an innately unethical level of power over a child being "treated."

Furthermore, consider: can a therapy built on the goal of controlling the behavior of a person who cannot meaningfully consent to it, especially without hard limits or protections on the kinds of behavior that can be coerced or controlled, ever be ethical?

I found many articles that discuss teaching "compliance" in autistic children, treating "compliance" as a reasonable goal to strive for without qualification...

The abstract of the above article struck me with a spark of inspiration. Biting is an undesirable behavior to be controlled, understandably so, since most would feel that violence should not be allowed. But I was suddenly reminded of the song "The Hand that Feeds" by Nine Inch Nails, which is a play on the saying "Don't bite the hand that feeds you," meaning don't lash out against someone that is kind to you.

But doesn't "the hand that feeds you" implicitly have power over you through being able to give or withhold food? In this case, kindness can be a form of coercion. Thus "biting the hand that feeds" is used in the song as a metaphor for autonomy and resisting coercive power. The speaker asks the audience if they have the courage to test the benevolence of their oppressors, or if they will remain compliant and unquestioning even though they know deep down that it isn't right.

Likewise the article blunders into something unintentionally poetic when it recognizes that biting is an innately possible behavior in response to "aversive" stimuli or the "removal of reinforcers." Reinforcers and aversives in ABA are discussed as tools used by the therapist—the presentation of a preferred food would be a reinforcer, for instance (and is often used as such in ABA).

The journal article considers biting as a behavioral problem, even though the possibility that someone may bite can never be eliminated. Contrastingly, "The Hand that Feeds" highlights the coercive power behind the ability to control your behavior, even when that control appears benevolent and positive, and argues that "biting the hand that feeds you" is not only a possibility but a moral imperative.

Consider: In what circumstances would you bite someone? To defend your own body? To defend your life? Are there circumstances in which biting would be the reasonable and the right action to take?

What authority decides which behaviors are desirable or undesirable, and rewards or punishes compliance or resistance? Who is an authority—your therapist? Your teacher? Your caregiver? Any adult? Any person with the power to reward or punish?

In what circumstances might compliance be demanded of you? In what circumstances would it be justifiable not to comply? What authority decides which circumstances are justifiable?

Can you imagine a circumstance where it might be important for a child to not comply with the demands of an adult? For a citizen to not comply with the demands of a government? Which authorities demand compliance in a right and just manner, and which demand compliance to things that are evil and wrong? Which authority has the power to differentiate the two? Should you trust them? Will you bite the hand that feeds you?/Will you stay down on your knees?

[digital-domain]

Clean Slate

Part Two to Spring Cleaning

Alastor x Reader // word count 3.1k

In which new clothes are illicitly obtained, and quickly disposed of

Tags/warnings: yandere, invasion of privacy, power imbalance, stripping/nudity, Alastor is definitely watching you sleep

A/N: god, part twos are hard to write. But the people of ao3 asked, so you, the people of tumblr, get to share in their (dubious) reward

True to his promise, Alastor did not leave your closet standing empty. When you woke up this morning, it was already full, the wardrobe you’d collected over the course of your year in hell displaced and forgotten. You wrinkled your nose in distaste when you saw that a large portion of the space was occupied by dresses, none of which fell above the knee. Those, you were sure you would never wear. But there were other options. You donned the least offensive - a pair of black trousers and a soft, slightly oversized red sweater - and felt almost like yourself when you looked in the mirror. 

In the drama of last night, Alastor had skipped over the rest of the small drawers of your dresser, so at the very least, you still had your own socks and the rest of your undergarments. The shoes lined haphazardly along the floor of your closet had been replaced by stiff, polished black flats, slip-on pumps, and other things that looked as uncomfortable as they did unfashionable, but he hadn’t noticed the pair sneakers that lay beneath your bed. You felt a strange thrill as you put them on, like you were getting away with something forbidden. 

And then, you thought, why stop there?

Alastor tends to keep his distance from you during the day. You do see him, of course - it’s not as if you can avoid him, living in the same building - but he barely speaks to you, unless you happen to be the only two people in the room. He doesn’t seem to like the idea of sharing your company with others, or letting anyone else see the two of you together. It means that outside of your bedroom, you still have your freedom. On this particular morning, you’ve decided to use that freedom to walk out the front door. Alastor is in the lobby, and you tense slightly when you see him, but he doesn’t so much as glance in your direction. At least, not while you’re looking at him. You swear that you can feel his eyes on your back as you exit the building. But that could just be your own paranoia. It’s been very strong as of late.

You don’t know exactly where you’re going. Just that you want to end up somewhere he wouldn’t want you to go. There are plenty of places like that in Hell. Arcades, electronics stores, smoke shops that sell harder drugs out of their back rooms, bars that don’t know how to make a proper old-fashioned…you certainly have plenty of options. But of course, in the end, you find yourself at a clothing store. Not a lingerie store - that entire concept has been ruined for you, for the time being - but still not a place he’d ever visit himself. Everything here is casual, comfortable, unpolished. The opposite of your new wardrobe.

You select a soft, unassuming pair of gray sweatpants and a plain black t-shirt. When you pay for them, you decline the branded paper bag, instead choosing to stuff them into the canvas one you’ve brought with you. Once you make it back to the hotel, and into your room, without alerting any suspicion, you’re relieved. You take the bundle of cloth out of the bag, and stuff it under your pillow. You’re not stupid enough to wear them during the day, but they’ll be perfect to sleep in. The slip you woke up wearing lays crumpled in an invisible corner of your closet. You’d like to forget about its existence, but you don’t dare try to destroy it.

You don’t see Alastor for the rest of the day. He doesn’t visit your room. This isn’t unheard of; his appearances have become more frequent over the past several weeks, but there are times when two, or even three precious days go by without a trace of him. Once it’s late enough, past the time when he might call on you, you change into your contraband. It’s nothing special, nothing particularly flattering, but when you look in the mirror, you smile. When you crawl into bed, you’re almost at ease. Last night, it took you a very long time to fall asleep, but tonight, it comes almost instantly.

It does not last.

You wake up, and know immediately that it is nowhere near morning. You’re on your side, facing the wall, and you fight the impulse to roll over and check the time. You’re still half-asleep. You don’t want to move.

But you do. And once you do, the time no longer matters. The exhaustion bolts from your body. You’d like to bolt along with it, but you only manage to half-sit up, swinging one arm defensively over your body. 

You are not alone.

This shouldn’t be happening. There are clear, unspoken rules to Alastor’s appearances - only when you’re alone, never past 10pm, never when you’re in the bathroom that adjoins your room. And yet, he is here. You can see his smile and his eyes far too clearly. It’s unnatural, the way they shine in the dark. 

“I apologize for the late arrival, my dear. It’s been quite a busy day.” 

You don’t believe him for a moment. “What do you want?” You’d like to scream at him to get out, but you can’t imagine that would end well.

“Do I have to want something to visit you?” He’s nowhere near the switch by your door, but the light still flickers, a shock to your eyes. It’s quickly extinguished, plunging you back into the dark. “Perhaps I merely enjoy your company.”

His hand is curled tightly around his staff. It’s another wrong thing about this image - he usually doesn’t have that, when he visits you. Your fingers brace against your sheets. You know why he’s here. He knows, somehow, about your little act of rebellion. How he knows…oh. You don’t want to think about that.

“I don’t expect you to return the compliment,” he murmurs, “but you could at least temper that awful glare in your eyes. It’s almost making me want to look away from you.” As he says this, he leans closer, bending at the waist until his unblinking eyes are mere inches from your own. “I always make an effort to control my unpleasant feelings. If I didn’t, I might make you uncomfortable.” 

You can’t imagine feeling any less comfortable than you do now, with that terrible grin glowing before you. Your eyes are still adjusting to the darkness, but you get the feeling that he can see you with perfect clarity. 

He straightens up, and uses the tip of his staff to flick back your covers, revealing the clothes you’re wearing underneath. “You must have thought so little of me,” he sighs, “to expect to get away with such a thing.”

You fail to catch your breath before it gasps out of you. He doesn’t sound angry, but you’ve learned that the tone of his voice is a poor indicator for how he’s truly feeling. “I’m sorry,” you whisper, eyes cast down. There’s nothing else to say. You purse your lips, and wait.

“I’ve tried so hard with you,” he continues, as if he hasn’t heard you at all. “I’ve been so patient. And just when I thought I was getting somewhere, you decided to act out.” The tip of his staff catches on the hem of your t-shirt, and you instinctively tug the fabric away.

It’s the wrong thing to do. His grin freezes on his face, its appearance now closer to a grimace than anything else. He rests the end of his staff heavily on the curve of your waist - you stiffen, and raise your hand as if to shove it aside, but quickly think better of it. 

“An excellent decision,” he purrs. “I knew you had some sense. I’ve worked very hard to instill it in you, after all. I was just starting to be impressed by your progress…but it appears that there’s still quite a lot of work to be done.” His eyes flash, momentarily glowing an even brighter red, cutting through the darkness between you. “Stand up.”

He withdraws his staff, and although you want nothing more than to pull your covers over your head and pretend this isn’t happening, you instead feel yourself rising to your feet.

“Well done.” His voice is quiet as he steps forward. He’s not touching you - his hands are pulled behind his back, as they often are when he’s close to you. But you can hear his breath, make out every detail of his face despite the absence of light. “I detest being upset with you. I detest that these little things upset me at all. But it seems there’s nothing I can do about that. So.” He leans forward, and smiles indulgently. It doesn’t reach his eyes. “Let’s fix this little problem you’ve created, shall we?” His head tilts a bit further than would be natural for anyone else. “If you take those ridiculous things off, we can put all of this nonsense behind us.”

You instinctively take a half-step backwards, only to awkwardly shuffle your foot back to where it was before. The thought of changing back into the slip he gave you makes you shudder, as does the thought of how he might react when he sees you pull it from the floor of your closet, hideously wrinkled. Still, you find yourself nodding in agreement. “Now?”

“Now.” His control over his tone is beginning to waver - his volume oscillates, voice frays with harsh static. 

“The slip…” Your voice is small, in stark contrast with the angered scream you were preparing to release just moments before. “It’s in my closet. I can go”-

Alastor abruptly flicks his staff upwards, turning it into a barrier between you and your closet door. “That won’t be necessary.” You feel very small, all of a sudden. You can’t quite tell whether it’s just the way he’s standing, or if he’s truly taller than he was a moment before. There’s an awful cracking noise - his head drops, neck contorts until he’s staring at you from a truly impossible angle. “You ought to listen when I speak to you, my dear.”

The way he says this now, it might as well be a curse. It propels you back, your feet moving of their own accord. But of course, the backs of your legs quickly hit the side of your mattress, leaving you feeling even more trapped than before. For a moment, you’re grasping at stray thoughts, trying to figure out exactly what you did wrong - 

Oh. He didn’t say anything about the slip, did he? That was where you jumped in your head. But what he actually said -

Your breath catches, fists clench. You don’t want to be right. You can’t be right - he’s awful, but he wouldn’t make you do that -

“Hm.” Seeing your panicked response seems to calm him somewhat. He straightens, takes a deep breath. The terrible grin seems to shrink just a fraction. When he speaks again his voice sounds just as it always does, rolling off his tongue with the pleasant crackle of long-dead airwaves. “A delightful reaction, as always.” He shakes his head slightly, shiftily glances aside. His gaze returns to you, and there’s that familiar spark, the excitement that you’ve come to fear. “Now…” The tip of his staff catches once more beneath the hem of your shirt, and this time, you don’t even consider brushing it aside. “Off.”

What is wrong with you? You don’t know. You should have something to say, something to yell, a fist or a kick or a back to turn on him. Instead, you only manage a moment of inaction before casting your eyes down and pulling your t-shirt over your head, discarding it on the floor at your feet. You were wearing nothing beneath it. The blood rushes to your face so quickly that you imagine he can see it flowing beneath your bare skin. You can feel it, almost as intensely as you can feel his eyes burning into your face.

Your face, which you slowly, foolishly raise to look up at him.

His eyes do not wander. He is staring, yes, but at your expression more than anything else. His gaze is fixed and impassive, with much less appreciation than the night before, when you were clothed in the modest garment he’d conjured. There’s something in his eyes - vindication, perhaps - but nothing more than that, even now. His hands are behind his back, and show no signs of stirring.

“Go on.” 

He’s certainly enjoying this. But not for any reason that makes sense to you. In his mind, you think, this is fair. To make you regret what you’ve done, in the cruelest, most humiliating way possible - to him, there’s nothing wrong with it. You should have been good. Then, this all could have been avoided.

Is that what you think? That this is your fault? You’re not sure. You don’t want to think about it. You move mechanically, sliding your fingers between your underwear and your waistband, tugging your sweatpants down your legs and nearly losing your balance as you step out of them.

“Well done.” He says this, just as you stumble, just before you catch yourself, and it’s so condescending that you’re seeing red. But it’s not like you can say anything about it. You seem to have lost your ability to speak entirely. “Now. If you can manage it, I would prefer for you to look at me, instead of at your floor.”

You bite down hard on the inside of your lip. Your arms are hanging at your sides. You cross them as you look up, but a gentle glove on your wrist sends them falling. You’re glaring, but it must appear more petulant than anything else, because he only laughs when he sees it.

“Just one more thing, my dear.” He leans forward, strokes one finger over the thin cotton that clings to your hip. His touch is so light that you can barely feel it, but it’s still enough to instantly tense every muscle in your body, to straighten out any slack that was left in the posture of your spine. “These didn’t come from me either, did they?”

You shudder, and set your jaw. Speak through barely parted lips. “No.” 

“Don’t look away,” he murmurs. “You’ve nothing to fear, so long as you behave yourself.” He waits patiently until you force yourself to look into his eyes. They’re shining, and his grin, too, is far too bright, a lurid yellow gash in the dark. “If I intended to harm you tonight, you would already be well aware of it.”

Where are your hands? You realize that they’re clasped behind your back; the realization sickens you for reasons that you don’t take the time to understand. As if in a trance, you bring them forward, let them fall against your hips. He doesn’t need to say anything more - only to watch as you pry the last scrap of clothing from your body. When you’re done, you stand with your head bowed, praying that he doesn’t ask you to look up again.

He doesn’t. He doesn’t say anything at all. Only sighs, satisfied, and lightly drags the tip of his staff up the side of your body - the outside of your thigh, your waist, your ribcage, your neck - and then presses it gently under your jaw, silently compelling you to raise your head. 

You try to summon anger to your eyes, but find that you can only stare blankly, waiting.

“I almost wish I could stay upset with you,” he sighs, letting his staff drop to his side. “It would make things so much less complicated, if I could simply refuse to forgive you…” His chest rises, falls. “And yet, I can barely stomach the thought.” For just a moment, his eyes flutter shut. His fist falls from behind his back to clench at his side. He takes another slow, deep breath. Then, his eyes slowly open, their red light dim and hazy. “No…I couldn’t let you go, even if I tried.”

You’re rigid, feet frozen to the floor as he leans over and kisses you gently on the forehead - he doesn’t touch you anywhere else, but you feel that perhaps you’d prefer that to this. You’d understand it better, at least. You’d understand exactly what you were scared of.

You don’t think he quite understands what he’s doing, either. He looks almost confused, when he pulls back. Rattled, almost as much as you are. But he quickly suppresses it, the daze in his eyes replaced with the familiar vicious spark. “You look exhausted, my dear. I would apologize for waking you so suddenly, but I’m afraid it was necessary. I’m sure you understand.” 

He stares until you nod in agreement.

“Lovely.” He pauses for a moment, then goes on with a lowered voice. “I’m sure I’ll have no need to do it again.”

Again, you nod mutely. It was a question, and one that you can easily answer.

“I certainly have no need to keep you awake any longer tonight.” He gestures to the mattress behind you. “Time for bed.”

You don’t think you’re going to fall asleep any time soon, but you still reach behind you to awkwardly pull back the covers. You do not turn around.

“Hm… ” His eyes narrow, grin twitches at the corners. “It’s a warm night, my dear. I’m sure you’ll be more comfortable without anything covering you.”

There’s nothing to be done. You sit down, swing your legs over your covers, and lay on your back. Arms at your sides, although you itch to wrap them around yourself. You vaguely register that you are cold, but that barely matters. Perhaps you’re not cold at all. You could be shuddering for any number of reasons.

He leans over you one final time. “Sleep well, darling.” His eyes do not waver from your face. Nor do they blink. You’re not sure if they ever have. “You’re quite a restless sleeper…I do hope that you have better dreams tonight.”

By the time you’ve processed what, exactly, he’s just told you, he has shrunken into the shadows before your eyes, and silently disappeared. You lay stiffly on top of your blankets, and stare up at the ceiling. You do not move, and you certainly do not cover yourself, even as the chill seeps under your skin. When you do fall asleep, hours later, your dreams are cryptic, tinged in a red glow, full of shadows and whispers in voices that are almost familiar, but far too distorted to make out. 

When you wake up, you’re shocked to see that your discarded clothes are still lying on the floor. Shocked - but not relieved. It only means that the task of their disposal has been left to you.

[leotanaka]

the celebrimbor/annatar moment immediately after mirdania sees sauron's true form was such a good scene while also being really uncomfortable and unsettling, as most of their scenes in this episode were given the nature of what was happening but this one...

it felt so explicit in what it was saying: that this is an abuser, using weaponised incompetence to lure their victim back into their grasp after they've escaped them and the look on celebrimbor's face said it all.

this moment makes both you, the viewer and celebrimbor question what was really going on in that moment. like, obviously it was deliberate but the thing with manipulators and abusers is that you can never really be sure. even if you are 100% certain, there's always that tiny moment of doubt that makes you question if you're actually right. that makes you question if you can fully trust your own perception of the truth or reality or if you're simply thinking the worst of them when you shouldn't be and that's what this moment kind of does and it does it in quite a scary accurate way.

because it leaves you questioning if sauron deliberately endangered the mirdain in that moment, if he really doesn't know the right or most appropriate way to make the rings or if he knew what could happen if they added more mithril or if he simply made a mistake etc. etc.

and as i said, celebrimbor's face really does say it all...

whether this was intentional or accidental, sauron's got exactly what he wanted. celebrimbor realised in this moment that he has to be involved, one way or another, he has to be involved and contribute in making the nine despite being completely against it because who knows what might happen if he isn't.

[cubbihue]

Hi! this is kinda an art request if u dont mind. And it's angst related, can you draw like where wanda and cosmo obvs have seen for a while how (human) timmy has been treated by his real parents. I just want to see like the "last straw" which lead Cosmo and Wanda wanting them to make Timmy as their own. (IM HAPPY THAT TIMMY HAS A FAMILY THAT LOVES AND CARES FOR HIM)

The "Last Straw"?

Cosmo and Wanda have seen humans at their best. They've seen humans at their worst. They've seen anything and everything that they've gone numb and used to what humans get up to.

But nothing's shaken them quite like Timmy's case did. Nothing has ever made a Fairy feel such strong human emotions than what Timmy made them feel, on that one particular night.

The thing that broke Cosmo and Wanda was Timmy himself.

Bitties Series: [Start] > [Previous] > [Next]

[voltaical-art]

urghh im just gonna post this… some Bishop lore…

[radio-writes]

Your Place in the Eyes of a God

Synopsis: You thought yourself oh so lucky that the demon who owned your soul was charming and kind.

Most people just had monsters ordering them about, at least your owner Alastor saw you as a lovely companion.

Warnings: Implied abusive relationship, power imbalance

Tags: Relationship can be read in any way; Alastor x Reader; gn!reader

MDNI

Being under contract, you weren't exactly overjoyed at the fact that you didn't own your own soul, but at least your contractor wasn't a monster, right? At least he was sweet, and funny, and charming.

And oh was he charming.

That is how your soul ended up chained to his after all.

He was always so kind to you. He treated you as if you were a friend—a person.

He had taken you out for meals; showed you off from time to time. He had adored every single gift you ever gave him. He had always asked you to smile because he just found you oh so

"Lovely," He said.

And it filled your head with clouds every single time. His soft compliments never failed to make you forget where you actually stood. 

So, you never really expected things to change so quickly. So drastically.

You desperately slapped your hands over your mouth, clasped tight against your lips to silence even the smallest whimpers that threatened to slip out. You pressed against the wall, hiding, maybe if even hoping that it would open up and swallow you whole. Take you some place else—anywhere else—but here.

You watched with wide, teary eyes, unable to look away.

It was hard for you to connect the charming man you fell for with the nightmare of a creature you saw looming over Husk. 

That thing that threatened to rip the poor man's soul apart couldn't possibly be your Alastor, right? There was no way that was your sweet, funny, charming Alastor. 

But those hands that yanked at the chain were unmistakably the same ones that gently combed through you hair at night. 

That smile he held while he threatened the man was unmistakably the same one you woke up sweetly to almost every morning.

That voice, albeit distorted more than usual by static, promising wicked acts, was unmistakably the same voice that softly greeted you good morning, asking if you had a good rest.

There was no mistake. There was no denying it. 

"Understood," You barely hear Husk's frightened response.

"Lovely," Alastor praised before he left Husk shaking on the ground by his feet.

You felt your heart sink immediately. 

Lovely. The word echoed in your head, your blood now ran cold.

Lovely. The mockery, the disdain, the obvious threat to obey him or else. You didn't think such a simple word could hold so much malice. 

"I can't wait to wear that new necklace you got for me!"

"I got you this tie because it just seemed like it was your style!"

"Of course, I'm smiling! I'm with you, aren't I?"

You didn't notice when your knees finally gave away under you. You didn't notice when you started crying. Your body simply crumpled to the floor as you continued to press your hands against your mouth, silencing the sobs that ripped through you. 

Alastor had already left. You didn't need to hide around the corner anymore. You were safe now. 

No. Have you ever truly been safe?

Because what was his response? What did he say every time you followed his requests? Every time you excitedly handed him whatever trinket you thought he'd like? Every time you smiled for him?

Lovely. The word rang in your ears.

Lovely.

It wasn't a compliment, you realized.

It was never a compliment. It was a praise. A praise for being such a good, obedient pet.

[terrence-silver]

If you’re looking for prompts, can you write something where Terry McCain saves reader from getting mugged or attacked? 🖤 thank you

---

He's been trailing this motherfucker for two blocks now.

Terry McCain had a bad premonition.

They learned this at criminology classes, way back, in '75, while he was still in the academy, entirely green and nowhere near landing his first position in the force; he supposed he had a knack for recognizing someone with bullshit intentions merely by instinct --- had a nose for it --- observing the way they walked, their body language, the way they occasionally threw nervous glances over the shoulder, the whole demeanor, it sometimes, inexplicably, screamed trouble. You, an odd fifty feet ahead of the guy, were of course, entirely clueless. In your own world, by the looks of it, and maybe it was a slow day out of the streets today, rain leaking off the the asphalt into the nearby sewer grates. Were you off to hitch a cab? What if you got soaked? Did you have an umbrella with you this morning? Did you have breakfast already? You usually never ate and walked --- never snacked outdoors, on the move. He has never observed it. Not yet. Maybe it was simply because you were in a hurry? Was he finding patterns or imagining them? How did you enjoy your coffee? Or was it tea you prefered? Neither? How did your laughter sound like? Was your footwear appropriately warm, perfect stranger? Funny. If the shifty prick could be considered indecent for trailing after you through so many streets and corners and stops, Terry himself wasn't all that different from some would-be mugger after the bag you were dangling left and right, like bait. Shit, the irony wasn't lost on him. It was even funnier how he was following you around first, discreetly, hands in the pockets of his coat, cut off from the sight of you by this guy intercepting his view. A stalker outstalked by another stalker, interrupted in his stalking.

Thing is, this was Terry's early, pre-station ritual for months now.

This dude? This guy was new. Had no right being here.

Nah, he wouldn't have it.

He speeds up his pace and reaches out to him from behind.

-"Identification, please?"- Is all Terry says, and the guy stutters, perplexed, a cloud of warm breath lining his twisted mouth. Turns out, stalkers never expect to be stalked themselves. -"You got papers to go along with that mug, tough guy?"- Good cop, bad cop. He is feeling cocky today with his routine so goddamn spoiled for no reason, so bad cop it is --- or rather, a partially agitated cop, flashing his badge out of his coat, and the man immediately scurries, having no time to justify himself in any way, mouth agape, reaching for his own ID card and wallet nervously. No gun on him. Terry scoped him out already, streets ago, and while it wasn't a Detective's usual jurisdiction to identify and apprehend petty, would-be criminals out on the streets out to steal someone's purse or wallet, watching your form disappear into the distance and take a left turn on the corner between two red brick buildings, none the wiser to what was going on not so far away from you, while Terry was busy pretending to care what this bozo's ID even said, there was an internal sigh of relief deep inside of his chest. You were safe. Out of harm's way. Innocent in your bubble. He did a good deed today. Pushing the card back into the man's hands with an obligatory 'I better not see you trailing anyone around this block anymore, go it?' speech, Terry lets him go, promptly. Truth of the matter was, he didn't even do anything wrong. If criminology taught him anything it was that appearances and behavioural patterns could sometimes be deceiving and that there was an equal probability to this man being a mere pedestrian, no different from you. There was never a 100% assurance to any profile out there.

Terry McCain just wanted to scare him out of the way.

Wouldn't be the first and he certainly won't be the last.

Worked every time.

[michellemouse]

Brat being an amazing aunt /sarcasm

@lune-redd

[worst-mother-throwdown]

BRACKET 1

Semifinals

TW: child abuse, manipulation, torture, murder, mass murder, child abandonment

Shadow Weaver propaganda

Titania propaganda

[brucewaynehater101]

The number of times I've seen people argue that Bruce is a decent father and that he is not abusive absolutely blows my absolute mind.

Yes, you can hc whatever version of Bruce you want. You can even blame it all on bad writers or reject canon. You can claim comic!Bruce isn't your Bruce and main a different version of him. Those are all valid.

However, you can NOT say that he has ever been justified for hitting his kids. There is no excuse for him willingly laying his hands on his kids. It doesn't matter if the person is drunk, drowning in grief, lost in emotions, whatever. Hitting kids is not okay.

Continually, the physical abuse is a very obvious sign of Bruce being a shit dad in the comics. On top of that, there is so much emotional abuse and manipulation as well. He's shitty as fuck to his kids and there's no reason this is okay. He may love those kids, but that doesn't excuse his behaviors.

Anyways, reject canon Bruce all you want. There's certain aspects of other characters I reject, and DC stands for Disregard Canon. Feel free to have whatever version of Bruce you desire.

What is NOT okay is excusing or accepting canon Bruce's actions/behaviors as acceptable.

[pinkeoni]

WillEl Narrative Mirroring: Presenting Themes of Sexuality

If we consider powers as a means to present themes of sexuality, then looking at Will & El and how they mirror each other in narrative can reveal different angles on this topic and how the two sides of the coin come together to create a balanced whole.

Very very lengthy discussion of sex, sexuality, sexual assault, and child sexual abuse below the cut.

Will and El being different genders is important to their narrative mirroring, because they are displaying the difference between expectations in regards to male and female sexuality. Let's start with El and what her story says about female sexuality.

Layering the subtext behind supernatural elements is both practical and ethical, and I honestly applaud the Duffs for choosing to go this route rather than making it more explicit from the start, and instead sewing in details along the way. It helps keep the story digestible, allowing for a story like this to be shared to a wider audience while also not forcing their incredibly young actors to portray potentially very traumatizing circumstances.

I'm not the first nor will I be the last person to talk about all of the csa coding regarding El, Brenner, and the lab, especially here on tumblr. I was actually sent an anon awhile back linking a blog post back from 2016 that analyzed this exact thing.

"Eleven's interactions with 'Papa' are laden with coercive, coded language, intentionally leading viewers to make sexual abuse connections beneath the surface of the experiments we are shown. Eleven, vulnerable in a thin hospital gown, is told to "go deeper" and to ignore the men watching her perform. She is told the monster wants her, to go farther, "not to turn away from it." This language is intentionally loaded."

Girls are often forced into their sexuality at a young age, usually for the gratification of men

Young El, in hardly a hospital gown, is being forced to utilize her powers for the sake of Papa Brenner and other men in the lab. The sexuality/power connection is being established very early on.

And even once El has escaped the clutches of the lab and seems to find safety—

And before I have fingers pointed at me, no I am not trying to vilify Mike for this moment nor any of the boys for wanting to use El's powers to find Will. It's more complicated than that. The boys were young, their friend was missing and in danger, and they were excited by the prospect of a real life superhero being able to save their friend. I'll also get into how Mike is a victim of this forced heteronormative relationship much later in the post.

But still, even without meaning to, the boys are reinforcing the role that El is expected to fulfill, which is to use her powers and sexuality in service to the men in her life

Something impressive about that blogpost I linked earlier is the rightful calling out of how gross miIeven is way back in 2016, when the two were considered America's cutest couple by the general public.

"Crucially, in the climax, after Eleven's body is once again used for others, Mike promises her a home, and Eleven shows a glimpse of light, is almost comforted. She'll have a family, she'll have safety. Promise? No, Mike says. She'll have their mother, but while she's wearing his sister's dress he explains she won't be a sister, that he wants Eleven to meet his desire for a girlfriend. How could he possibly understand that more boundaries and a boyfriend is the opposite of what she needs?"

Girls oftentimes do not see many options outside of their sexuality

Starting in season 2 El has two modes of thinking: girlfriend or superhero. Her line of thinking isn't helped much by Hopper, who keeps her isolated from outside world. And like the boys, this is a complicated situation. Hopper is keeping El inside for the sake of her safety, lest the government catch her and lock her up again, and either use her or kill her. Still, this isn't good for her personal development.

Whereas Brenner was the sexually abusive dad who forced his daughter into adult roles at a young age, Hopper is playing the role of the overprotective dad who doesn't want to see his little girl grow up, something that continues in season 3. In his eyes, he is keeping El protected from the men of the outside world who are likely to want to take advantage of her, and keeping her locked in is his way of preventing that. But doing so is damaging to El's psyche in ways he may not realize.

So El is kept locked inside with some of her few windows to the outside world being spying on the boy who wanted her to be his girlfriend, and spending the entire day on the couch watching romantic soaps. Her options regarding freedom are skewed.

When El gets her first taste of freedom and leaves the cabin, she's in girlfriend mode. We know this when we see her go to Mike and she misreads and becomes jealous of his interaction with Max. Now I won't deny that El and Mike do have genuine care for each other, but here she ditches a boy that she hasn't seen in almost a year because he seems to have found another girl to fill that girlfriend role.

Having been hung up on in the void and replaced, El changes trajectory: superhero.

I do want to point out and emphasize the importance of El going to see Terry before this moment. El is not a robot that is programmed for sex and powers. She is very much human, and we see her desires for family and the life she could have lived, which is her motivation to seek both Mama and Kali.

Kali, another woman with powers who had been mistreated like her, offers El an alternative— use her powers against the men that have hurt her. When El sees that Kali is seeking her power as a means to use them, El leaves to save her friends and family.

I once again want to reiterate again El's humanity and her heart. El isn't returning to Hawkins simply as a means to become Mike's girlfriend and to become a superhero. She is doing so because she wants to save the people that she loves. Still, El's resolve for the season isn't super ideal given her overall arc. She is effectively fulfilling the roles that have been charted for her since the beginning. She learns that she can be a superhero and a girlfriend! Yay!

With danger out of sight, El seems to be spending her time doing the only other thing she thinks she can do, kissing Mike in her room. An activity which is described by Hopper and the rest of the party as being "unhealthy" and "bullshit."

So what is the solution? Completely remove her sexuality as Hopper aims to do?

We now come to my favorite friendship in the whole show, as well as the most important character in El's arc—

Max doesn't suppress El's sexuality or enforce it onto her, but rather is the first person who allows El to explore what she wants, offering her assistance but allowing El to lead the way. Brenner, Kali, Hopper, and Mike have all wanted to shape El into what they wanted her to be. For Brenner, a weapon. Kali, an avenger. Hopper, the perfect daughter. Mike, the perfect girlfriend. Max wants El to be whatever El wants to be. (God I love the elmax friendship so much)

Like I said before, Max does not aim to strip away El's sexuality like Hopper does. Hell, I wouldn't even say that she wanted to keep El from Mike. Hell, Max was even asking El if Mike was a good kisser after El had dumped him. Max is the one who offers to give El her moms Cosmo magazines. She isn't keeping El in the dark about sex and sexuality, but offering her a road map and actual information in order for El to come to her own conclusion about what she wants from it. El can look at pictures of Ralph Macchio and use her powers to spy but also enjoy shopping, listening to Madonna and reading comics.

When El is pushing her powers to find Billy, something that El choses to do of her own volition, it's the girls in her life (Nancy and Max) who advocate for her to lead the way while Mike is the one who wants to control her. And yes, once again the situation is complicated, Mike isn't doing this to be an asshole but out of concern for her safety, but needless to say he isn't beating the controlling boyfriend allegations. And this displays another facet of female sexuality—

Men often feel insecure when women exhibit ownership over their sexuality

Mike, who previously advocated for El to use her powers if it meant helping someone, is now actively pushing against it when it's El in the driver's seat and not him. And maybe Mike was right and El was pushing herself too far. And maybe he was concerned out of guilt for pushing her the first time, but would it also be too out of left field to say that Mike equates his part of his self worth on how much El needs him?

So maybe now I’ll talk about Mike

Mike really isn’t trying to be this malicious, manipulative guy who is using El for sex. Really, he’s not. Mike instead is a young boy who is going through some rather tough internal struggles of his own, and unfortunately brings El into it with him.

Mike is enforcing the heteronormative relationship onto himself just as much as he is doing it to El

I personally read Mike as gay and that plays into this analysis. Mike found a girl that he cared a lot for and everyone around him assumed that he must have feelings for her, so he played the role of the straight boyfriend. When I see Mike making out with El in her bedroom, I see a gay boy constantly trying to become attracted to his own girlfriend. Maybe if he keeps kissing her, maybe it’ll do something for him.

Keep in mind that Mike believes that that’s what El wants him to be, he’s not forcing onto her something that he doesn’t think she doesn’t want. He may have kissed her first, but then El was the one who tried to kissed him at the Byers house. Mike is mistaking El’s own confused feelings for genuine ones.

Being El’s boyfriend was Mike’s way of giving El what she needed, a way to be useful while simultaneously giving him a way to be normal. But what happens when his true feelings are starting to become harder to ignore?

Remember that Mike wasn’t writing “Love, Mike” when he believed that El was doing okay on her own in Lenora and making new friends. It almost makes me wonder if Mike would have said “I love you” to El if she had told Mike she was in distress.

But then again, we do see El in distress in front of Mike and yet Mike still can’t bring himself to say it. It isn’t until El is quite literally on her deathbed that Mike finally works up the courage.

In season four we have El regressing into her superhero or girlfriend mindset, with a third option added— monster.

A pinkeoni analysis that mentions El’s superhero/monster dichotomy???? SHOCKER!!

When girls are not seen as sexually desirable, they oftentimes feel monstrous as a result

El doesn’t have her powers anymore, and Mike no longer sees her as worthy of being a girlfriend, which means that she must a monster. This is a thought that is reaffirmed through El’s treatment from her classmates, and later El’s intrusive memories regarding the massacre. The only way El knows to escape this monster label is to regain her powers using NINA. This is what El knows, how to become a superhero. This is how she becomes desirable again.

I think that Max’s distance from El is a good contributing factor. Not the only one, but a main one for sure. El no longer has that guiding force, and there isn’t a girl in Lenora that understands her disposition and seems willing to take her under her wing. Sure she has her new mom Joyce, who is usually on the phone. Or her new brother Jonathan, who is usually stoned. And her new brother Will, whom we see try an give El support only for her to shut him down with “friends don’t lie.”

So El goes through NINA, gets her powers back, learns she isn’t the monster after all, oh and her boyfriend can say “I love you” now. And yet, as El realizes at the end, it’s not enough.

I promise this post is also about Will too

Now is the part of the post where we shift gears and finally talk about Will. El has more screen time than him, so there’s more to cover. I also felt like discussing her first laid some important groundwork in regards to how Will mirrors her narrative.

El showcased a lot of facets regarding female sexuality. Will covers aspects of male sexuality, but specifically gay male sexuality, which is an important distinction.

What does Hawkins feel about gay men?

Yeah, it’s not looking good.

Gay men are oftentimes perceived as predatory and dangerous

Will’s sexuality is practically an open secret. Will goes missing, and the town’s first thought is that he was taken by another gay man. Troy doesn’t say it directly, but the implication behind his words is that Will was raped and then killed, thus feeling the need to clarify that the man behind it was “another queer.” Gay men rape little boys and throw them into quarries, or so the town thinks.

The eighties is also such an important set piece for this narrative because the entire show takes place right in the midst of the Reagan Administration and the AIDS epidemic. A young gay boy dies and its suspected that another gay man killed him. The government is eager to sweep under the rug what actually did it. The anniversary of Will's kidnapping is Reagan's 1984 reelection date to the day.

Heterosexual men are treated differently on the basis of their sexuality

Well, duh. But I did want to highlight the differences between gay Will and his evil-straight-name-twin, Billy.

Billy wears his sexuality proud and openly. Based on Max's dialogue in season 3 we know that he has sex with girls often. In his introduction we are immediately shown girls ogling him. He arrives in town and is instantly liked and regarded. He catches the eyes of the hot moms in town and he's liked by the other guys.

Oh, and he's racist, violent, abusive, and overall a total sack of shit.

We see Billy's sudden rise to popularity in the same season that we see Will's incessant bullying and him being branded "Zombie Boy" by what seems to be the entire town. Even Billy who's been in town for like a day is already calling him "the freak." Will is sweet, kind, friendly, wouldn't hurt a fly, but he's the weird homo whereas Billy is the cool straight guy with the nice butt.

Gay men's sexualities are often suppressed

So now we get to the part that exhibits the WillEl mirroring, as well as some “Will has powers” theoretics. I guess your willingness as a reader to continue forward may depend on your feelings toward Will with powers. I may lose some of you, or maybe I may even swing some skeptics with my explanation. As I say in most of my posts: bare with me.

If El's sexuality and powers are being forced upon her, then Will's sexuality and powers are being forcefully snuffed out.

Let's take a look at Lonnie Byers, in many ways similar to Papa Brenner and in many ways his antithesis. Both abusive fathers with silver hair, Brenner is the obsessive parent who wants his fingers all over his daughter while Lonnie is the distant parent who wants nothing to do with his gay son. Joyce's dialogue "Lonnie said he was queer. Called him a fag." indicates that his homophobia probably has something to do with his distancing. Lonnie's verbal abuse of Will was likely a method of trying to snuff out his queerness. And when that didn't work, he left.

(and if you wanna get theoretical you could say that he had connections to the lab, knew about Will's powers and was trying to get rid of them, but that's just speculative)

A big part of season one is the fact that the entire time, Will was in his own house. He was spending his time running and hiding from the monster that was in his own home, the one that wanted to kill him. And the only time he ever expressed himself, the only time he ever used his powers—

—was when his loving and supportive mother encouraged him.

But also keep in mind that almost every time Will tries to speak with his mother through the lights, express more of himself and use more of his powers, it usually attracts the presence of the monster. Will continues his cycle of running and hiding until it doesn't work anymore, and we get what is perhaps the most overt sexual assault imagery in the show that even little fifteen year old Robin Pinkeoni picked up on in 2016.

Season one ends with Will experiencing sexual violence, and in season two we see how this trauma is encroaching on his everyday life, as well as being stalked by the same man that took him and shoved a vine down his throat for the sake of reproduction. He follows Will to the arcade. He follows him while he's trick-or-treating with friends. He finds Will at home. Eventually, he finds Will after hours at school where he's able to reenter his body in the second most overt sexual assault imagery in the show.

Where El's sexuality was suppressed in season 2, Will's sexuality was being forced upon

Will is feeling the effects of this assault for the rest of the season. He's finding it hard to sleep, and constantly feels the presence of the man who attacked him, everywhere.

Vecna is possessing Will because he wants to use him as a vessel to control help control his army, and for whatever other powers Will may have. If El never closed the gate, if Vecna had completely taken over Will's body as he originally planned, what would he have done from that point on? Would he have just discarded Will's body, or was there something special about him that he needed?

Will begins to believe that everything people say about gay men is true about him

Keep in mind that at this point Will's only experience and exposure to gay sex is being assaulted twice, all while his father and the whole town is bullying him and telling him that gay men are predators. Will isn't a predator. He isn't dangerous and we know this about him. And yet Will uses the freak label in a negative way.

So it's no surprise given the internal and external that Will is suppressing his sexuality even further.

In season 3 El begins her journey of self-discovery and likes what she finds. Will knows exactly who he is

and he hates it.

Will fucking hates himself bro. He knows he gay. And he accepts it. But he also accepts all of the labels and restrictions that it comes with. I am gay. My sexual desires are dangerous. I can never express and experience love and sex the way I want to.

And maybe there is a glimmer inside of him that sees that what he is is a wonderful thing, that maybe he does deserve better than all the abuse he's endured just for being who was.

And maybe these feelings were easier to pack away when he was younger. Maybe it was easier to say "I'm not gonna fall in love" when you're fourteen, but as you get older and grow into your teenage years...

...maybe your desires are getting harder to ignore.

What happens when you don't die innocent, and you grow up instead?

So we bring it around to season 5

El is a superhero and a girlfriend again. But it's not enough. Something is missing and she isn't fulfilled. Max is missing, and El is going to have to face and overcome her biggest challenge yet, which is completing her journey of self-discovery that started in season 3. She's going to have to put aside the expectations that many have for her and decide what she wants.

Will Byers is back in town. How has the climate surrounding gay men changed since then?

Oh! It's worse now!

Remember, the town believes that the same sodomizing Satanists are the ones behind the recent murders and earthquake. It's gonna be really bad for Will when he gets back.

So now Will is tasked with a challenge that is harder here in Hawkins than it might have been in Southern California. Maybe Will can't change the minds of these religious townsfolk but maybe he can somehow find a way to shift his own way of thinking. Embrace who he is, embrace his powers, and realize that he deserves more than the hand he's been dealt.

So that was... a lot

Analysis mostly over. Here are some of my concluding thoughts.

I know that this is probably one of my longest posts ever. I know that a lot of it feels like reiterating plot points, but that really felt like the best way for me to articulate all of my thoughts on this. A lot of it needs to be backed up with evidence from the show.

Also, sometimes when I sit down to make a new analysis, sometimes I don't make it because I think I have all of the answers, but I make it as a way to try and find answers. To talk through some of my long and complicated thoughts and open the floor to discussion. Even with the length of this post, there is waaaaaaaaay more that can be discussed regarding this topic (some that has already been discussed).

To wrap everything up, I wanna share this screenshot from Reddit, which low-key inspired this entire thing. For context, this was in response to a question asking if people expected to see a Will coming-out scene in season 5.

So, hopefully with this long ass post, I've proven that maybe the show is about the complex effects of one's sexuality in the 80's, actually.

[starlight-bread-blog]

Ememy Vs. Abuser: Catradora

Disclaimer: Netflix doesn't allow me to take screenshots. I tried to find clips on Youtube but a lot of these are stolen. And an obvious tw for abuse.

When Catradora antis bring up how Catra abused Adora in seasons 1-4, a lot of people seem to be confused. The go-to defense is the following:

"Catra and Adora were enemies, they were put against each other in many battles. The 'abuse' is just what you'd normally expect from enemies to lovers".

A complelling argument, for sure. How can you expect of Catra to not be violent with someone who was put against her? The answer to this question can be answered through a different question: Why is Catra the abuser? Why not Adora?

What's the difference between an enemy, and an abuser?

1# The aggressor is particularly cruel to their future partner.

Catra doesn't use her claws on real people very often. She mostly uses them on objects or robots (or Shadow Weather's mask).

At times, it's clear tnat she would gain a lot from using her claws, but she doesn't.

One might suggest that it's because she understands the full weight of using them. Whatever the case may be, there is a person she doesn't seem to have these reservations about: Adora.

2# Their intreractions contain emotional abuse.

Catra often blames Adora for things that aren't her fault. She's cruel to Adora, deliberately and viciously hurts her.

She makes mean spirited remarks and belittles her.

Additionally, Catra gaslit her.

And wouldn't you know it, she takes pride in having control over Adora.

3# There is no balance.

As we previously established, Catra has no problem being needlessly cruel to Adora. But is Catra in the same danger? It it at least mutually toxic?

It's not. Adora can fight and defend herself, but won't do more than she needs. Meanwhile, Catra seem to relish in brutalizing her.

Further more, moments that could be considered romantic build up in their own, "spicy" way, are positioned with Catra on top, where Adora has no choice but to comply, where she's stuck there.

4# The aggressor got in the victim's head.

Adora has a guilt complex. That's not a controversial take. She takes too much responsibility and thinks everything is her fault. A lot of this stems from Shadow Weaver, but there's another source.

And Adora is very quick to internalize her cruel remarks.

In Conclusion:

Catra and Adora's relationship can and was abusive during the war. They share specific patterns of abusive relationships even at war zone. Catra hurting Adora isn't all war stuff, it's personal, it's abusive.

[celebrimbor-apologist]

RE: the forge becomes a prison and a torture chamber.

We have arrived fully. It’s not one or the other, oh no, it’s both, and every time Celebrimbor realises that, he is tortured in the most cruel way - the one where he doesn’t realise it until he does, and then has this moment of clarity, a moment where all the horrors comes back, like when he pushed Annatar away, only to be locked back in. The sense that something is wrong, something is off, but he can’t place it and why is he even thinking about it? Why is he worried again? No, keep doing the rings, the rings, yes.

Will he later feel horrible about the peace of mind he experienced? Will he feel like he himself was evil for the peace that soothing numbness brought?

Were there more? Where he almost had it and then something Annatar did put him back in? How often? And how often is he just so uncertain which is even worse?

There will be physical pain, yes, but the fact that Annatar turned Celebrimbor’s own brilliant mind against him? That is simply so evil.