#( also i’d call this misogyny but i see people having no issues with the other females in the cast

[crash-and-cure]

If I Were You Part 5 (Yandere!Austin!Elvis x Reader)

Summary: Love is the only rational act. Call him crazy or unhinged all you want, that sounds just about right to Elvis. 

A/N: Well... it’s been a minute. Sorry y’all I’ve been having to deal with a move recently which set me back alot in terms of finding free time to write but I’d rather it be late and good than early and rushed. This chapter is going to be from Elvis POV so if it feels like there is a bit of a heel turn from reader know that that is why. We’ll also be getting insight as to how reader has been feeling these last few months and how she handles what happened in this chapter in the next.

Warnings: Yandere!Elvis so expect themes of obsessive, manipulative, jealous, and heavily delusional behavior as well as references to previous blackmail, emotional and otherwise, here too. Dubious consent in some areas. Inappropriate relationship with a Therapist (Though she is no longer one at the moment). Depictions of a therapy session. Explicit sexual content depicted that includes Penetrative sex (m/f), Daddy Kink, Praise kink, a bit of somnophilia (she does not stay asleep), vaginal fingering, and a tiny bit of anal play. Also mentions of Elvis' mommy issues, though he’ll never call them that and reader’s daddy issues because parallels. Period typical misogyny depicted and reflected by POV character’s attitude towards women in the orkplace. Finally depictions of a toxic relationship that include power imbalances, emotional manipulation, heavy use of coercion, grabbing that leads to bruising and deception. Please do not interact if you are under 18.

Word count: 14K

Part 1  Part 2  Part 3  Part 4

Masterlist

Humility is something Elvis always tries to work towards. Even as his star grew to new heights he could never have dreamed of before, he always in the back of his head felt as though he was just a step away from losing it all. And he almost did, not in the sense of losing the fame or the money, but he did lose sight of what he loved, in who he loved and 

But people didn’t stop loving him. 

He’s been honest with you that this was a heavy burden he had to bear, that need to fix himself not for his own sake but for others. The idea that him running himself ragged into an early grave felt less like a fear, and more like an inevitability. 

And yet he beat the odds, and now he looks forward to all that life has to offer now.  

Elvis tries to be humble, but it’s hard to do so when every morning he gets to wake up next to the most beautiful, most intelligent, and most caring woman in the world, with the full knowledge that you’re his alone. 

He never thought it was possible to love someone so deeply like this. 

Sure at first you yourself used to see an issue in this kind of love, but he eventually brought you around. Sure it can be an awful thing when someone is vile, and taking advantage of the other, but he knows he never has to worry about that from you. 

You take care of each other, and ain’t that what it’s all about? 

Those other people don’t know what the two of you got, and have never experienced a love like yours. If they could even experience a fraction of the love he felt for you, they would understand why nothing could keep him away from you. How cruel it would in fact be to keep either of you apart. 

Now as he holds you in his arms he’s content in the knowledge that no one has any right to do so. 

Those first few months of your relationship, there would be times when he woke up and even seeing you he couldn’t entirely trust it was truly you. His mind had played tricks on him before with all those other women he had had right before you, and he would have to feel the devastating grief that these women weren’t you. 

He doesn’t even remember most of their names, considering how many of them left because of how often he would say your name when he wasn’t being careful, it was probably for the best. Part of him wonders if any of them ever figured out they were stand-ins for you, the other part worries that he doesn't feel particularly guilty even if they did. 

But these worries quickly die as he looks down on your beautiful face. 

He liked seeing you so sleepy, those early months, it’s when you were most honest he thinks. Too tired to think too hard about anything save for the feelings he knows he brings out in you. Just awake enough to know what you’re doing and more importantly to know how to enjoy yourself. When you’re soft and pliable just the way he likes you, but just as ravenous and willful as any wildcat to really make him work up an appetite. 

He lifts the covers off of the both of you and he gets to see how the hem of your baby doll had ridden up well past your hips, and he licks his lips seeing his breakfast. 

He knows that your body wanted him before your mind did. That on some deeper level you wanted him, long before you could think so, let alone admit it. And he sees it in these moments as you’re still dead asleep but you squirm under his touch. Breathy sighs fall from your plush lips as he lazily brushes his fingers along your inner thighs  

He wonders what you dream about these days. You once told him how dreams can have any meaning you assign them to have, and it’s within his power to decide. 

He once told Priscilla that he was “all outta dreams,” and he could safely say he feels the same way with you. Before those words meant how he felt hopeless in such a bleak situation, but now they mean the utter contentment he feels everyday when he’s with you. 

Something you gave him, and in spite of all that he’s done to get you here, he will happily spend the rest of his days paying you back. You’ve helped him in ways you probably couldn’t imagine, as now, he wants for nothing but you anymore. 

And when his hand finally reaches into that warm piece of heaven between your legs, there is no hiding the way he makes you feel. You squirm under his touch, not having even been anywhere close to waking up. He hopes that he now occupies your dream world now as you have done since he’s met you. 

Your eyes don’t immediately shoot open, but you jump a little as he starts to drag you back to the waking world. With a half-lidded unfocused stare, you’re all lazy smiles and breathy moans as you buck your hips against his hand all the while your ass rocks against him, stirring up little Elvis from his slumber. He wonders if you believe you’re still dreaming, after all in his mind everyday with you feels like one. 

You’ve become so compliant since you left your job for him. You don’t gotta worry about no office to be at or other patients you need to see. You don’t mind being seen with him out and about anymore. You especially don’t mind the marks he leaves on you, which is a good thing especially now as he’s in a mood to mark you where he can today. 

But you, in your half-asleep state, apparently have other plans. He feels as you blindly reach between your legs to grab a hold of him, catching him off-guard slightly as he starts to feels his cock part your folds. Then without a word of warning you close your thighs, and it’s like a punch to the gut it feels so good. You’re warm as all get out, and your thighs are still slick from last night, but the major difference between this and your little love cavern is your teasing fingers that gently bring the very tip of him up to continuously nudge at your clit. 

It’s enough to drive any man insane. 

It truly takes everything within him to pull away from you, and from the needy little whine you give, you feel the same. He turns you around and puts you right to straddle his lap. Your head lolls a bit at the swift motion, not entirely awake, but you practically jolt awake when he grabs your behind. 

“Now why you gotta go teasin’ like that Mama,” he growls relishing in the feel of your ass beneath his fingers. He wonders how hard he would need to squeeze to leave a couple marks down there. 

“‘M sorry daddy,” you mewl unconvincingly, lowering yourself to kiss him, something you’re no longer scared to initiate. A sharp slap on your ass has you realizing he meant business right now. But still you wait for him to tell you what to do. 

He’s taught you well.

“Well now you gotta fix it Sweetheart,” he purrs, and you shudder as his thumbs glide up your inner thighs, . “Can’t have your daddy goin’ out there lookin’ like this now can we?”

You shake your head no and the desire to just bend you over and take you like an animal grew but he wanted you to finish what you started. Granted you may not have started this specifically this morning but there ain’t no getting around the fact that this all started with you. 

He bites his lip to really focus on you in that moment; that little contented sigh that would fall from your lips feeling the fat head of his cock brush up against your eager clit, before turning into a lazy smile, as you slowly but surely guide him to that place he loves so much. That filthy moan that falls from your lips as he finally begins the descent into your entrance, before it turns into a needy little whine as he slowly retracts his hips and before he suddenly slams them back into you full force. 

That little wiggle your ass does as you give a breathy “daddy” is all the encouragement he needs before he presses upward. One hand threads through his own right on your hip, while the other . The whiny little noises you make each time he even nudges that precious little spot you bashfully admitted only he was ever able to reach. 

The material of your nightie by now has fully slipped off your shoulders, now leaving it only as a useless ring of fabric around your waist. You don’t seem to mind a single bit as you eagerly bounce up and down his cock, your gorgeous tits on full display and, to his chagrin, offensively clear of any bruises. In fact a quick once over of your body shows that the marks he’s left on you before were already healing up. 

He’s really gotta do something about that soon. Afterall for as smart as you can be, you’re often liable to forgetting who you belong to. 

But for as tempting as your nipples can be, he actively has to stave off his own desires, just to fully appreciate the image before him. That of the good doctor fucking herself stupid on his cock as she shamelessly licks her own juices right off his fingers, and begs for more from her daddy while the early morning rays give an almost angelic appearance. But that image of purity is swiftly done away with as he reaches around you and with his still wet fingers he lightly presses on that tight ring of muscle you’re far too demure to ever ask him about but he knew you loved when he did this. And with tears in your eyes and unrestrained cries flying from your lips, you seemingly fall apart and your walls clamp down on him like a vice.

Truly there ain’t ever gonna be a more perfect woman, he thinks as feels euphoria rocket through him and he proceeds to paint your inner walls white. Your hips stutter as you try to catch your breath, still quivering through some aftershocks, and you try to catch yourself on your hand from fully collapsing into him. Well he ain’t having none of that, and he wraps his arms around you to bring you as close as possible to him, never wanting to let you go.

Though the absolute best part for him is that you no longer get that left over guilty look afterward. The shy act was cute the first few months but as time went on it lost its appeal and he wished you would stop treating him like something you had to feel ashamed of. But now when you open your eyes to look at him all he sees are equal parts adoration and hunger. And it’s all for him.

Thanks to you he’s gotten far better in terms of communicating what he wants from people and it’s probably the worst kept secret in all of Graceland how much he wants and needs you at any given moment. You're able to ignite him in ways no girl has ever been able to do, and he doubts there will ever be another like you.

Though he thinks he most especially loves mornings like these because it’s all the proof he needs that that old job of yours wasn’t worth all the trouble it was causing in your head. After all, how can anything that doesn’t hurt no one and makes you feel this good be bad?

He ain’t one to talk though, he remembers those early months when he did try to fight off his feelings for you.

It’s wild to think he ever had doubts about therapy. Dr. Wilson was fine so far in that he was able to help him through his addiction without making him feel awful about it while also helping him realize that there was a lot more going on in his need for the drugs that he wasn’t even aware of. He was always able to remain coolly neutral no matter what ever fucked up thing the rockstar had told him. Elvis got the sense that he had been at this so long and with so many different celebrities that hardly anything phased him at this point. Which was good in a way, didn’t make him feel so outta place there but it also felt so…impersonal. As though the person that came right before him or right after him would get the same advice and insights as he did. 

Overall he was fine in terms of easing him into therapy and being able to express his thoughts and feelings with someone without having to be afraid of being judged. But he will admit that Wilson did do right by him by recommending you in the first place. 

He still remembers that day, there was an odd sense of euphoria to not only have a name for what he had but also that there were specialists who could handle this sort of thing professionally. But at the same time it clashed with his hope of his life going back to the way it was any time soon.

“Co-dependency is a relatively new term within the psychology community, so there aren’t many who are equipped to handle this condition.” Wilson says, eyes firmly on his notes. “But you’re in luck as I believe there is a specialist located in the Memphis area last I checked.”

“Doc, you sure I even need this?” he would question, as he fidgeted with the sleeve of his robe, the material having become a tad bit scratchier than when he had arrived. “I mean I don’t, even get cravin’s for them pills no more.” 

“Yes Elvis, we’ve treated the more overt and life-threatening symptoms of your addiction, but we’ve yet to truly tap into the underlying cause. Without doing that you would be liable to fall right back into old habits all over again. Maybe not with the pills, but some other vice.” he says calmly. “It’s why we enforce rules as to moderation within the facility as oftentimes getting rid of one addiction will lead to seeking solace in another. You’ve done better than most in abstaining from the more overt addictions and in order to keep up with this, I think it would be best if you continue treatment with Dr. Y/L/N.”

Elvis has a long sigh at this but he does genuinely want to get better, yet he still holds doubt as to whether more of this is necessary. He thinks at best you will be able to show him what to look out for in people that could take advantage of him again and you could go your separate ways after a few sessions. After all he did at least want to show Priscilla that he was actually making an effort to get better, and what better way than to keep going to therapy. 

He hesitated a bit during that first call, when he found out you were a woman. He knows it’s a whole new era and women can work outside the home if they want and all that, but he still wasn’t too sure about it. And he ain’t never met a woman who called herself a doctor, so there was that. 

But he also knew himself well enough to know that any excuse he could get to get out of going he would take, and having to drive all the way from Memphis to Nashville was a pretty good one. Besides women are naturally good with talking and feelings and shit, so it kinda makes sense in a way to see a woman about this kind of stuff. So it was worth a shot. 

That all changed when he met you in person for the first time. What he almost immediately noticed about you was how warm your eyes were. Not necessarily in color, but how you looked genuinely happy to see him. And not just in the way he’s used to from women who want him, but more… something he can’t quite put his finger on. But when you looked at him for the first time he felt as though he was being seen as Elvis, not just as The Elvis Presely. 

“Good afternoon, Mr. Presley, it’s nice to meet you.” You said to him with a friendly smile on your face and a firm handshake.

“Same here, Dr. Y/L/N,” he would say, as all of his doubts seemed to melt away. You were beautiful in a way he wasn’t used to, all professional and button-upped like a secretary yet also comforting and very approachable like a librarian. It was an odd combination no doubt but you pulled it off well. 

There’s something about you that just puts his mind at ease, not only as you talk but as you listen. He felt like he was being heard instead of just listened to, which isn’t something he ever realized was lacking in his life. When you sat there you looked as though you could listen to him talk for hours, not the slightest bit of impatience to be seen. And the way you looked at him as he talked, as much as you may have been trying to hide it, he saw that you felt what he felt when talking about these things, his joy in performing, his sadness over the state of his family, his anger at Colonel. 

That was another thing, the little tidbits of advice you gave, that in retrospect seem so obvious, but hearing it from you that Parker didn't have any control over him anymore and he didn’t have to call him something that made it look like that. It’s hard to believe you're younger than him and yet so much wiser.

There was one thing you said to him toward the end of that first session and you were talking about his goals overall. 

“There’s a lotta things I want Doc,” he says. “I want my family back. I want to get back with ‘Cilla. I want to get back into music and perform again. I… want to know what to look out for so I don’t make the same mistake again.”

That last one apparently peaks your interest, as you say with a gentle smile on your lips, “Mr. Presley, many people when they walk into my office expect to be given answers as to their conditions or the issues ongoing in their lives. But the reality is that I don’t have the answers but what I can do is act as a guide so that you may be able to find what you may be looking for in a healthy and effective manner.” 

”I-I think I see what you’re sayin’ Doc,” he says. “A-and you can call me Elvis,” he states, ifa bit shyer this time around.

“Of course Elvis,” you say with a smile radiating warmth. “Now, as we’re getting towards the end of our session, I would like to express my goals for you.” 

He’s very curious as to what you have to say, so he leans forward eager to listen.

“Elvis, contrary to what it may sound like, my goal is not to espouse total self-reliance and to never trust anyone again. Nor is it for you to simply find ‘better’ people to rely on totally,” you say. “My goal for you, as it is for all of my patients, is to trust yourself most of all to know what’s best for you. Good or bad, regardless of another's opinions, these are your choices to make.” 

Those are simple words but they have a monumental impact on his perspective of things. And for the first time in a long time he looks at you and sees someone he can trust to do right by him. 

And now the first thing he’s gonna trust himself about, it’s that you’re gonna be good for him overall.

It was a bit difficult to get into the whole routine of seeing you, especially as he didn’t want certain people in his circle knowing that he was even still going to therapy. Not even necessarily because he feared it would somehow get back to the papers but because most of them were all under the same belief that therapy was just a crock of shit and all he needed to do was man up. So he just simply didn’t bring it up to them specifically and let only a few people really know what he was doing. And only they know just so they can sufficiently cover his ass when he’s out with you. 

None of them seemed to mind his scheduled “alone times” too much since he always came back and nothing newsworthy would happen so they let him be. 

Over the next few weeks he found himself looking forward to sessions with you. He’s taking his health seriously, he’s getting to see Lisa more and more, he’s sleeping better, everything in his life is slowly but surely improving thanks to you. Though the better sleep had its flaws as he had been having some weird dreams for awhile. Not so much nightmares, but they definitely left him with some odd feelings in the morning. 

They almost always started off the same way, he was back on that couch in Dr. Wilson’s office and the way he was being spoken to, it felt less like therapy and more like an interrogation. He would never remember what he was being asked, but the longer it went on the worse he would feel. 

And then you walk into the office and Wilson disappears. In the beginning you would simply take Wilson’s seat, and he feels himself start to relax. Something about you just made it easy to do so. You could even be asking the same questions Wilson was asking, but you’re far gentler in your delivery, and it helps ease the answers out.

A lot of his dreams have been going this way but recently you’ve been getting closer and closer, and now you sit beside him on the sofa. You would rub his back, play with his hair and even sometimes hold his hand all the while listening to what he had to say. Which then progressed to him even laying his head in your lap.

He vividly remembers how he would nuzzle into your chest as you continuously ran your nails through his hair. Neither of you speak but he can’t recall ever feeling so at peace than in those imaginary moments with you. 

Of course there were also less than wholesome dreams where he the ones where you ride him right into the couch or he takes you on your desk. Though arguably the most memorable had to be when he rested his head on your lap as he’d done in his dreams a million times before and you would slowly unbutton your blouse. 

Undoubtedly one of the most fucked up things he’s ever dreamt as you proceeded to jerk him off as he sucked on those gorgeous tits of yours. But still he couldn’t get out of his head that look of utter adoration in your eyes as you threaded your fingers in his hair and whispered how he was a good boy.

He woke up that morning needing to literally peel his pants off of him. 

He’s not an idiot. He has a daughter and so he knows what that could only look like from the outside. He has a pretty good idea what it may mean, seeing you in such a motherly role, but he’s also seen Psycho and knows he’s far from dressing up as his Mama to stab women in the shower. So really it doesn’t mean anything.

“Doc?” he asks, and you look up from your notes. He knows he should probably bring up the dreams, as you’ll definitely have something to say about it. But seeing you in that Turtleneck that made your tits look phenomenal made his brain short circuit a bit, and he worries even hinting at anything like this may scare you off and have you believing he’s a Norman Bates type. So instead he asks, “Why don’t you got one a them couches?”

Your brow furrows at that. “A… fainting couch?” You ask tentatively.

“That’s the one,” he snaps his fingers. “Why don’tcha got one of those?”

“Oh, well…” you say, pausing to bite your lip, looking for the right words. This simple act causes him to swallow hard, and he prays you don’t notice as you continue. “Given the patients I work with, I find that keeping us on the same level is far more beneficial than the alternative. It acts as a good reminder that we’re equals in this environment,” you explain with a gentle smile.

“Same level huh?” he questions. “So if I sat down on the floor you would follow?”

“If that’s where you feel most comfortable,” you say amused.

He doesn’t exactly know why, but part of his brain took that as a challenge, while the other part wanted to really test as to whether or not you would follow through. In either case he gets off his chair only to lie flat on his back on the shag carpet of your office. He looks back up and sees you raise an eyebrow at his antics, with a look of “seriously?” on your face. There is a bit of a stare down before you let out a small defeated sigh before you make motions to follow suit. 

“Don’t say I’m not a woman of my word,” you would explain as you lay down on the floor parallel to him, though the table kept a good distance between the two of you. Not an easy feat for you considering you were wearing a skirt that day, but in spite of that you were somehow able to make the act look as dignified as possible. Though that doesn’t prevent a brief but very dangerous image of you hiking up your skirt and taking a seat over his face. 

Woah… Where did that come from? he would ask himself as he ripped his eyes away from you and looked up at the ceiling. 

“Comfortable?” Both real and fantasy you would question. 

“Very,” he would answer, lying only slightly.

You give a mirthful smile before you get right back to business. “Now that we’re down here, I would like to discuss some of your risk-taking behavior upon your return from Germany,” 

“I wouldn’t say layin’ down on the floor is risky,” he quips. He’s trying hard to not focus on the gap that’s appeared between the buttons of your shirt nor the way that your notebook keeps your skirt from sliding down further. But at the same time focusing on your face right now feels dangerous for some reason he can’t quite place.

Something blooms in his chest when he hears you huff in amusement at him. “I’ll admit not my most graceful of transitions, but my point still stands. When you look back on your time after your return stateside, do you believe you were doing things that were considered far more risky?”

“I mean… I guess,” he would admit. “Aside from the drugs, nothin’ too wild, really. Just pushin’ each other down… and drivin’ around real fast… and shootin’ fireworks at each other… I see what your sayin’.” It’s funny that he only now realizes just by talking to you about them. 

“And nobody ever protested to you doing these things?” 

“Well my daddy did at first, but then stopped once he figured I wouldn’t stop. Most times it was The Colo-shit! Parker… he was the one who always made big stink ‘bout what I was doin’ if it was dangerous or made me look bad.” 

You bring your pen to your mouth, simply resting it on your lips, mulling over his words before you say, “Elvis correct me if I’m wrong, but it sounds to me that Parker occupied a very… parental role in your life?”

“I guess,” he says, unsure of it until a long dormant memory comes barreling to mind as he recalls his own words to that man from what felt a lifetime ago. “I even said as much to him at my own Mama’s funeral.” He says covering his eyes, and taking a deep breath, willing no tears to fall right in front of you. “I feel like such a fool.”

And then he feels something on his palm. He looks to his side to see that your hand now holds his. It’s such a simple gesture, one that anybody could have done, but coming from you it feels like everything.

“Elvis…” you start off slowly, your thumb rubbing soothing lines onto the back of his hand. “Grief is a terrible thing to experience. It can knock out your knees and snatch the breath right out of your lungs. And it’s certainly not uncommon for people like that to take advantage of those in such a vulnerable position.” you say in your most soothing voice. 

“Don’t think less of yourself for staying as long as you did. Instead I ask you to think of it as you left when you were ready to do so.”

He has to pause to contemplate your words for a second there, because it’s such a simple twist of perspective but it seems to make all the difference as he feels a long present weight of guilt lift. “Yeah… yeah you’re right,” he says, his chest filling with a sense of warmth he hadn’t realized he’s been missing for a while now. “I-I took all of the rat bastards shit for years, because I could take it… a-and I left when I didn’t want to do that no more.” 

“Exactly,” you say, slipping out of his grasp and giving a friendly pat on his hands as you return to your side of the table. 

The rest of the session is pretty light, all things considered, talking about Music, something he can do at literally any given moment and he left your office that day with a newfound appreciation for women’s office wear. He gets the sense that it’s very intentional on your part. The way you can steer a conversation is so fucking impressive and it served you well when you were dodging something.

But he eventually learned your ways. And he was able to get you to open up about yourself like when you learned his favorite hero growing up was Captain Marvel Jr. and you confided in him your favorite was Wonder Woman, and how you learned to appreciate her even more when you learned she was created by a Psychologist. Or when he told you about his sleep troubles and you taught him your trick to falling asleep was to eat Pancakes, something that came as a bit of a routine from your waitressing days since that was your usual order at the end of your shift. Little things that made you more than just his shrink to him. 

He swears he didn’t realize what he was doing at first, and it wasn’t until Jerry pointed it out to him that same night. He and the rest were at some show that he doesn’t really remember, and he sees you walk past the table he was at. He’s so caught off guard that he even turns his head fully around as you walk away.

Jerry knows about his therapy and tends to cover for him when he goes to see you, but has never actually met you, so it surprised him when Jerry asked if he wanted him to go get you for him. 

He’s glad for the low lighting of this place as he doubts he would otherwise be able to hide his inflamed face right now. “What? No… No. Wh-why’d ya’ think I want her?”

“Well she’s your type ain’t she?” he asks, glancing at the bar behind Elvis’ shoulder where you’re standing. Elvis is trying hard not to look back because the dress you’re wearing is far more revealing than he’s ever seen you wear, and he doubts if he keeps looking he’ll be able to stop, still that question eats at him. 

“The hell are you on Jer?” 

“EP, you’re a lot a things,” Jerry says as he gets up, patting him on the back. “Subtle ain’t one a them.” 

He knows one more word and Jerry will stop and not approach you, but something stops him from doing so. He figures you’re going to say no anyway, as you made it clear in your first session that you were never going to approach a patient in public, and that’ll be the end of that. Still the thought of you saying no does leave a sour taste in his mouth that the whiskey can’t quite chase away. He steals a glance over his shoulder and with the better lighting at the bar he realizes that that girl ain’t you. Her nose is a different shape, hair color is not quite right in the new light, and this girl doesn’t have quite the same dignified posture that you’ve got.

He shakes his head at these thoughts. It’s ridiculous that he even thought that was you for even a second. You work everyday and he doubts this would be your scene on a Thursday night. He imagines you would be in bed by now or at least settling by this time. You have the look of a good girl who reads at night to fall asleep and he can just about picture the way you would look lounging against a headboard that looks suspiciously familiar. This line of thought leads to him idly wondering what you wear to bed at night, which is quickly broken when Jerry approaches with the girl. 

The girl has a face-splitting grin and in her eyes, he finds that star-struck look he’s seen in hundreds of other women's eyes before her. Despite her eyes being similar in color he can’t help but be reminded of the stark difference in your eyes when he met you for the first time. She’s seeing a god where you saw a man.

Still he tries to give the girl, Jackie, a fair shake, but the longer the night goes on the more he has to pick apart. Her voice is a little too high-pitched to be yours. Her make-up, not as pristine as yours usually is. Even her nails seem to annoy him as they are a little longer than how you usually keep them, and they only really drew his attention while she was drumming them along the table as he spoke. The girl is practically shaking in her seat, itching to get out of here with him. 

Well at least this one knows what she wants, he thinks to himself as he asks if she would mind a more quiet place to talk. 

It’s wrong on so many levels what he’s doing, and he recognizes that as he puts his arm around her shoulders and leads her out of the place. Jane gushes about how big of a fan she’s been since she was a kid and how this is a dream come true. All Elvis could really focus on is if he squints just hard enough he can almost see you saying that to him, and that’s just enough to get him going, as he buries his face into the girl's neck, and he hears sweet moans he wishes came from you. 

Jenna was gone come morning, and Elvis is glad for that small mercy. And in the early morning rays, Elvis is left alone with his thoughts, and he gets to truly think about the women he’s been with recently. He thinks of Shannon who drew his eye when he got a whiff of her perfume, and it happened to be the same one he knows you’ve worn before, and he would bury his face in her neck as he pounded into her. Amy whose hair was almost the exact same color as yours and whom he really only liked taking from the behind without truly looking at her face. Carol whose voice sounded eerily close to yours and in the dark he was able to imagine someone else entirely as she moaned his name over and over again. And finally there was Jamie who was almost the spitting image of you save for a few things here and there.

It’s nothing, he tries to lie to himself. 

It doesn’t matter.

They don’t matter. 

They shouldn’t matter really, they were all gone before the morning came, so obviously none of them weren’t interested in anything serious. Which is good…

…Right?

It fucks with his head something fierce, that he ends up bringing it up the next time he sees you. “I think I lost my way with women.” he would say as soon as he sat down, before you even got a chance to crack open your little notebook. 

You quickly put the pen between your lips, in that cute way he likes, to hold while you open your notebook, and ask “in what regard Elvis?” This has got to be a sign as to how comfortable he’s gotten with you. He would never have dared to talk about something like this with anyone else, not so much because he feared that he would be laughed at, but because more than likely he would be plastered with denials and reassurances as to how much of a ladies man he still is, without ever even getting into detail why he felt like that. 

Still he finds himself clamming up, wishing to take the words back, shame burning in his belly over these thoughts. You were having none of it, as you put down your notebook and pen on the table between the two of you and lean forward. “Elvis you can talk about this with me,” you coax in your softest voice, something he’s come to expect look forward to. 

He smiles at this as he’s come to appreciate this about you. You get right to work and listen as he expresses his fears about his romantic life. You’re a great listener, though he supposes that comes with the job, but in the way you move and watch him, he never doubts that you are. You’re always watching him, you rarely if ever glance at the clock, and nothing about your body language ever says that you’re getting tired of hearing him talk. Even Wilson had that annoying leg bounce thing toward the end of sessions with him. 

The only thing he could really complain about was how often you touched your lips while listening. Whether it was simply resting a fist to your mouth or pinching your bottom lip, you’re almost always doing something of the like when you’re concentrating he’s noticed. He doubts you’re doing it on purpose, but he still finds it very distracting. That being said he was never about to tell you to stop. 

“Elvis as I understand this dilemma you’re having,” you say. “You’re worried that the only type of women you attract these days are women who are not seeking long-term relationships.” 

“I don’t know Doc, it might be nothin’,” he says, still trying to downplay how uncomfortable the concept makes him. “

“If it bothers you Elvis, then it’s not nothing,” you gently encourage. “People thrive on connections to one another, and I’m glad to see that you’re taking steps to establish new connections after all that you’ve faced before. Perhaps these women aren’t all opposed to a romantic relationship, but they may perhaps be under the impression that you are, given your fame.” 

“So my reputations workin’ against me on this,” he asks solemnly. 

“In a sense, yes. Reputation is a bit of a funny thing like that,” you say. “It’s not so much your actions that make it up, but other’s perceptions of said actions. And if you feel you’re ready to embark on a new long-term relationship, then I would encourage you to start on a solid foundation of honesty.”

“What do you mean? Tell them I’m lookin’ to get married again?”

This gets a small huff of laughter out of you, “Perhaps not that strong in the beginning,” you say. “But something along the lines of… ‘when can we meet up again?’ just a little something like that to establish that you are at the very least interested in a long-term relationship.”

“Doc, would you wanna be with me,” he says, and he would be lying if he says he didn’t enjoy the way your eyes practically bugged out of your head before he recovered with a “or someone with a reputation like me?”

You try to pass off your sigh of relief as simply a deep breath before you answer with, “I personally try not to let others' perceptions of potential partners affect my own feelings toward them. And I reassure you that there are others of the same mind and should you signal that you want something more… permanent, you’ll find someone.” you say with a reassuring smile on your face. “While we’re still on this topic as to your romantic life…” you trail off slightly. “You stated one of your goals in therapy was to rekindle your relationship with your Ex-Wife. Is she the one you’re talking about trying to have a relationship with?”

“... no,” he sighs, as he eyes you sitting directly across from him. “I-I love her and all but… I-I don’t know if I want her in the same way I did before. And… I-I think I want someone else.” He thinks this is the first time he’s been able to say this out loud, but it admittedly does feel like a weight lifted off his shoulders as he admits to it. You give a soft, reassuring smile at his words, and while he knows that it’s probably because you’re happy to see him moving forward with his life, a small part of him wants to believe it’s because you want him to be available.

“I understand, Elvis,” you reassure him. “And rest assured that should you at any point choose otherwise you’re, of course, free to do so.”

He leaves later on reassured in his worth as a partner, but the thought that you had been approached by men before leaves an otherwise good meeting with a sour note. That’s the first time he realizes that you have a life outside of your office and somehow worse, you have other patients you talk to. It’s like seeing a teacher at a grocery store and realizing they don’t live at school.

He knows it ain’t right to feel this way, that you’re a person too, who has more to offer than just what you do for your job. But he can’t help the way he feels. Saddest part is the person he would go to talk about these feelings with is the person he has to talk about. 

And so rather than actually dealing with it, head on he tried to satisfy these feelings for you in other ways, but he promised himself he would never act on them. 

At least… not yet.

It was working for a time, he would see you twice a week, he would bear his soul to you alone, and slowly but surely you also opened up to him as well. There were small comments here and there about simple preferences which eventually gave way to you talking a bit about your time and school and your friends, and to his relief you never brought up any sort of boyfriend. But outside of your office he accepted that he did in fact have a “type” and most of his boys made it their mission to find girls that look even a little bit like you. 

And yet the more he saw you, the more he fell for you. 

After the wine incident he knew he couldn’t deny himself what he wanted anymore and he gradually started to lay the groundwork in order to make that happen. 

When he would casually slip in pet names for you, kiss the back of your hand, or even when he would linger a little too long after a session you never said anything about it. And he always took that as an opportunity to go further and further each time. 

He even started reading up on Psychology, and to his surprise some of it was down right fascinating, especially learning how it stems from Physiology meeting Philosophy. Sure the dog studies and the Milgram experiment ended up being very useful to him later on, but he does believe Freud was onto something there. But he can’t wrap his head around why you tend to get very skittish when you do on occasion bring up his Mama.

He likes to think she would’ve liked you very much for how smart and responsible you are. She maybe wouldn’t have loved the whole working outside of home thing, but he eventually fixed that. 

The same way he taught himself to play music was the same way  he got you to fall in love with him: laser-sharp focus and unwavering persistence.

But then you had to go and almost throw that all away. You spat in the face of his gift and tried to reprimand him for doing a nice thing for you. So he had to play it cool for a while after that. You seemed to retreat a bit from him, but you were no less warm and caring for him. You even stopped really remarking when he would “accidentally” bump into you when you’re out and about. 

But no dice the next time he tried. It was only as Jerry returned with a guilty look on his face did he realize his mistake in A. sending someone else and B. not framing it as a part of his therapy, which he knows you wouldn’t have refused. 

“EP…” Jerry says lightly. “Y-your shrink…”

“What ‘bout her Jerry,” Elvis asks in no mood after your refusal.  

“I-I noticed that she-she kinda looks like some a the girls you been seein’,” he swallows a bit. Seemingly praying to god he’s wrong about this.

“No,” the rockstar says simply, not really caring to beat around the bush anymore, and Jerry seems almost relieved until he continues. “They look like her,” and for as callous as it sounds he can’t even muster an ounce of sympathy for them, as though it’s their fault that they’re not you. But the reality is, none of them could hold a candle to you, and they only matter so far in preventing him from getting too frustrated with how slow you're taking things. 

“Elvis… I-I don’t think it-it’s such a good idea to get so… involved with your doctor again,” Jerry would say tentatively, unsure how he would react. 

“Jerry,” he says, trying to control his temper, and remembering those breathing exercises you went over with him. “I think my business is my business.”

“I-I know but-”

“But nothin’ Jerry!” he yells. “Y’all had fuck all to say when I was runnin’ myself in the grave! And now that I’m gettin back on track, now you wanna step in?!” Jerry gaped at him, before quickly shutting his mouth, a guilty look taking over his face as he looked down at the ground, having nothing to say. “Get the fuck outta my face Jerry.”

Jerry and the rest that knew about you since the beginning would eventually come around on you, seeing hat you did for him and how much he needed you. It served him all the better later on. Though now that all feels like ancient history now, especially now that you’re together in private, in public, and pretty soon under the eyes of the lord.

As far as you know Elvis didn’t want to acknowledge the “blackmail” and simply announced your engagement. He didn’t even want to acknowledge Parker, as that would imply there’s anything wrong with your relationship that he could have exploited.

The way he tells the story is that a couple months after rehab, he was out and about in Memphis when you caught his eye from across the room. He described it as nothing short of love at first sight, but the problem was he had no idea how to approach a woman as sophisticated as you. It was made all the worse when he did approach and you introduced yourself as Dr. Y/L/N, you weren’t so awestruck by him, and in fact talked to him like a normal person. He was so caught off guard that when you had revealed that you were a therapist he jumped at the chance and said he had been looking for one in the area after rehab and you had given him your business card.

How the next few months were about how you became his therapist, and how he was more or less scheming to sweep you off your feet the moment he could. How you tried your best to keep things professional until you could no longer deny your feelings nor could he deny his. None of which was a lie, but he did have to clean up the story for the reporters (didn’t stop Penthouse from begging for the dirtier details).

The story was simple, almost the ideal story of the recovery of a troubled man and how it was the love of a good woman that helped him heal from all of it (Say what you will, he knows you’ve loved him longer than you’re willing to admit). And the people ate it up. 

Everybody could see how good you were for him, how he’s back and better than ever because of your efforts. 

He wishes you wouldn’t focus so much on the others who want to make this out as a bad thing for either of you. They don’t know you and they especially don't know him, so how can they judge what either of you do. That board of therapists may say that the two of you being together is wrong, and for a time you may even have believed that but he knows in his heart of hearts that this was meant to be. 

Afterall you yourself showed him how other people’s perceptions of you shouldn’t affect your own perception of yourself. 

As far as days in Graceland it’s a pretty typical and quiet one, Mary makes the two of you breakfast, you both practice tai chi while it’s still early, you sit with him at the piano as he worked on music, and later he would bend you over the piano so you could make some music for him, you have lunch. It’s looking to be a perfect day. 

You’re never too far from him anymore but he doesn’t think he’ll ever have enough of you. He wouldn’t have it any other way. 

Sometime after lunch, Jerry comes around with those books you ordered. As much as you tried to hide it at first, he could see you were excited for the world tour. Studying up on the history of practically every city he was going to be performing in, trying to learn a couple languages, sharing almost everything with him. 

You look so in your element when you’re reading, and he can’t help but intrude and make his dreams into a reality. You're startled at first as he rests his head in your lap, but you quickly adjust and ease into the new position.

He’s close to purring with the way you run your nails along his scalp, so familiar and comforting a gesture that it’s not long before his eyelids go heavy and he finds himself drifting off to sleep with a smile on his face. 

With you around, sleep is coming easier and easier these days. You worry about this, fearing that he would become too dependent on you for sleep. 

He can’t help it that you’re such a dependable person. 

He would wake up later, only the slightest bit distressed that you were gone, but he knows that you wouldn’t have gone too far. And he didn’t have to look too hard to find you, as you stepped out of your dressing room, and sees you wearing something very familiar.

He doesn’t think he'll ever forget that night.

He thought at the time that nothing could happen between you two. He had accepted that at first, tried to content himself to having you in his life in whatever way he could, even if only platonically. He admits he may have stalled some days, especially the sessions after you would remark how far he’s come in therapy, all in order to drag out his time with you. 

It truly felt like the stars had aligned for the both of you that night. He wasn’t really one for fancy places like this, any other day he would have taken a cheap little diner, but he had been craving a real good steak for a while and figured some fancy place like this would be his best bet. Imagine his surprise when he just idly glanced down at the reservation book and saw your name.

He had been hoping to build something between the two of you outside of your office for a while by that point, but that day you just so happened to have ended up at the same restaurant as him. This just solidified in his head that the two of you were meant to be, because it couldn’t be just a coincidence that the two of you ended up at the same place that night. He gathered up the nerve to approach you that night, thinking about what you said as to how you would like to be approached by a man, ready to put himself out there. 

His breath hitches as he sees the little white dress you’re wearing and his palms sweat a bit when he approaches. Overall he feels like a kid trying to ask the prettiest girl for a dance, terrifying yet exhilarating all the same.

“Dr. Y/L/N, funny meeting you here,” Elvis would say in his best attempt to sound casual. 

“Mr. Presley, how are you?” you would say, surprise evident in your eyes but the small smile on your face genuine as any. 

“I’m doin’ just fine.” 

“That’s good to hear. I’m glad.”

“Are you here alone?” he gently probes, trying to figure out a way to get the rest to leave the table if he can get you to join him. 

“No, my date is just in the restroom.” you say pointing in the general direction of the bathroom.

Something almost akin to betrayal flashes through him in that moment, but he quickly tries to stamp it down as even he realizes that he had no right to feel that way. “Well, have a good night.” he says, trying to be as amiable as possible. 

“You too,” you say with an uneasy look in your eyes. 

Gorgeous girl like her, it’d be crazy for her not to have a date, he thinks, sitting back down with his buddies. Not a single one of them acknowledges what just happened and somehow it feels all the worse. Still it doesn’t sit right with him, the idea of you being out of your office and looking so beautiful and only to waste it on some undeserving mook. 

But… in all the months he’s been seeing you, he ain’t ever seen a ring on your finger, so he doubts it’s that serious. He can’t see your table, which he’s thankful for, because it at least removes the temptation to keep looking your way. But with how sparsely populated the restaurant is at this point he can just barely make out your voice, and he can clearly hear your laugh. It’s such a beautiful thing to hear, and it takes him fully out of the conversation he’s having with Sonny, which pretty much makes all of them take notice of how weird he’s acting but they won’t say anything about it. 

But quickly bitterness takes over in his mouth when he hears the accompanying chuckle from your faceless companion. Especially when he’s only ever awarded small huffs of amusement in your office while that motherfucker can get you to laugh like that.

… He really shouldn’t be thinking like this… 

It practically spits in the face of all you’ve been doing for him to go back to his old jealous ways. He drinks some of the wine to calm himself down and earnestly tries to go back to the talk he was having. 

He does try, but by the third glass in, he becomes a bit distracted by the wine. He’s not usually much of a fan of the stuff, but even he can appreciate a good bottle when he has it. Not too sweet but just enough to mask the burn of alcohol, while pairing well with his steak.

All he’s really thinking at that moment is how much you would probably appreciate it too. So he flags down the stuffy waiter and insists that a similar bottle be brought to your table, on him of course. 

He doesn’t really think too much of it, and later as Charlie’s doing his best impression of Parker to a host of hoots and hollers from the rest, does the waiter return. “Your friends send their thanks for the wine,” he says simply walking away. 

So you took it… he finds it very interesting. 

If there was nothing there, you could have said no and he would’ve put it behind him. But you accepted the wine… there had to be something more to it. Especially since you were on a “date” with another man, and what woman accepts a drink from another man if she wasn’t at the very least interested. 

As he leaves, there is a part of him that aches leaving you behind, especially with another man, and the only solace he takes is that you accepting that bottle of wine had to mean something. 

His home feels achingly empty as he walks in, even as he’s surrounded by his buddies. He’s trying to follow your advice with the whole set sleep schedule thing so it’s only midnight by the time he walks through his front door. 

Even if come Monday you flat out reject him, he tries to content himself to have you just be his therapist. How maybe even after you graduate him out you can still continue being friends outside of your office and he won’t have to lose you as well.

Still all of that rings hollow that night as he recalls furiously jerking himself off in his bed, tears streaming down his face and your name on his lips, as he thought of you in that dress. What’s worse is that the fantasy he has of you is not even necessarily erotic, and by most standards, it’s practically mundane. But it’s precisely because of how normal it is that it feels so foreign yet nonetheless attractive to him, and thus far more dangerous than any wet dream he’s had of you before. 

He imagines bringing you to Graceland from the restaurant. How you would strip yourself of that dress, effortlessly seductive as you swap it for a nightie, and how you would get a little bashful as you notice him staring before crawling into bed beside him. But unlike other dreams he has of you, you simply lay back and allow him to bury his face in your chest. “What’s on your mind Elvis?” you would ask him. 

He can almost feel the scrape of your nails on his scalp, as you listen to his woes. The slight rise and fall of your chest as he rests his head on it. How all of your ministrations are comforting and relaxing rather than teasing or playful, like your content to simply sit and be with him alone rather than doing anything else. Like you’re there for him, not for Elvis Presley.

He wanted that. He wanted you. 

And now he has you.

And nothing will ever take you away.

“Mmm, I remember this,” he hums to you while wrapping his arms around your waist as you put the finishing touches to your face. You preen under his attention, and wriggle a little as his fingers brush the hem of your skirt, both of you practically itching for a repeat of that first concert. 

While in general he would have preferred you wore something he gave you, he has no doubt that the dress is not gonna survive the night once you get home. 

“Where you headin’ lookin’ this good?” he asks, trying not to sound too sore about it. 

You sigh as you put down your brush, squaring your shoulders as though you’re about to step into a battlefield. “Ma’s throwing me a Bridal shower remember,” you answer. 

Yeah he does remember, but he honestly wishes you hadn’t. Though he can hardly begrudge you for being less than ecstatic about your party, as he also doesn’t want you to go but for very different reasons. Try as he might, he couldn’t justify going with you, and just the idea of you being out of reach made his stomach uneasy. His only solace in the situation was that he was able to convince your Mama to not invite any of your old college girlfriends, as the last thing he needs is for any of them to be putting ideas in your head again. 

Besides, it marks the first time in awhile since he’s gotten all of his buddies together at once, so he’s determined to enjoy the night as much as he can without you. He thinks he’s had his fill of the bachelor life, so his party ain’t nothing too crazy all things considered. 

For as much as he did clean house once he booted Parker out, there were still those in his circle he could do without personally but still served their purposes well. 

He’s made it clear he won’t stand for any of them talking any kind of nonsense about you, but that doesn’t stop them from bemoaning the “life” he’s giving up all in order to get hitched yet again. The partying, the girls, the drugs he would give up ten times over for you. 

By midnight he’s even close to calling it for the night hoping that you’ll be home soon.

For as much as they rag on him for becoming so domesticated he’s well aware of the fact that they are nonetheless happy for your presence in his life. He knows that while some of them are genuinely glad that he’s now better for his own sake, he’s all too aware that some of them only “care” because their very livelihoods depend on him.

Not you though. What you gave up when you thought you were protecting him, you proved yourself to be far more caring and loyal than anyone he’s ever met. And he rests easier knowing you’re watching out for him, even at a great cost to yourself. 

It almost makes him feel guilty for what he had to do.

Almost.

And, as though summoned, you make your way through the front door. The second you walk in, he loses interest in just about everything else in the room. You look like you just got through twelve rounds with Muhammad Ali.

He already knows you don’t got the best relationship with your folks but understands you couldn’t get out of going without raising questions. But if it went bad it saves him the trouble from having to talk you out of visiting them too often. 

Truly it makes his heart soar the way you light up a bit upon seeing him and he hopes 

And then it goes to shit. 

He sees you lazily look around the room, probably trying to figure out a tactful way to get rid of them all. But then your brow furrows, and you give the entire room a once over again, and then you seem to look intently at every single person in the room as though you’re tallying them up. And once you finish that, it only seems to distress you more. 

You’ve got that same look in your eye when you’re reading your mysteries, with your brow furrowed and your hands to your lips. He’s confused as to what may be going on in that pretty little head of yours, until he looks around and remembers that ALL of his buddies are here now.

Something that shouldn’t be if he had really handled the ones that had apparently squealed the two of you out to Parker.

Huh… you figured it out just like that, he thinks. This is honestly what he gets for choosing a smart one like you, but he can't say he’s not a little proud that you were able to do so. Besides it’s not much of a choice when it’s meant to be. 

He takes one last puff off his cigar before stamping it out into the accompanying ashtray, after all no use in trying to pretend anymore. You're cracking a case wide open in your head and he figures there ain’t no point in drawing it out for much longer. 

“Hey Charlie,” he draws out, and your eyes snap back to him, apparently terrified to be proven right. 

“Yeah EP?” he answers, always the good friend who would go along with any plan regardless of how he personally felt about it if it meant getting him back on track. 

“Why don’tcha do that voice,” he says smiling a bit as his friends goes a bit ashen at the request. “Always gets a good laugh.”

Charlie thinks he’s subtle when he steals a glance your way. He is not. 

“You sure ‘bout that EP,” he asks, nervously swallowing, his eyes begging to not have to do this. Which gets the attention of all of them, and some of them shift uncomfortably at what’s about to go down, downing the last of their drinks and nervously gathering their things hoping to make a quick getaway. The ones who don’t know are looking at Charlie anticipating a good laugh but they quickly pick up on how worried he looks and quickly follow suit, figuring nothing good would come of this. 

Elvis only has eyes for you though, morbidly curious as to how you’re going to react, the same way your eyes are firmly fixed on him, no doubt fearing that you’re right. He almost calls it off at that point, but call it what you want he believes that once this secret is over and done with, the two of you will be all the stronger for it and there will be absolutely nothing to hold you back.  

“Who am I talkin’ to?” Elvis asks Charlie all the while making full eye contact with you. Contrary to what you may believe he doesn’t in fact enjoy hurting you with these hard truths, he’s just not as skilled as you in breaking them to you in a more delicate manner.

Charlie lets out a deep, tired sigh before, without any more preamble, he says, “You’re talking to the man that gave the world Elvis Presley,” in his most perfect Parker impression. 

Your face fully falls. 

Once upon a time you had told him how sometimes people need to be guided by another to get what they wanted. And he knows for a fact that you wanted him, it was only your damn job and it’s rules that held you back. That’s where his head was at after that fucking anniversary party.

You are the only woman alive who can proudly say she’s broken his heart not once, not twice, but three times. The first time being when you threatened to switch him to another therapist, but luckily he saw right through that ploy. 

The next time when you had the gall to lie to his face about where you were going. When you started speaking about Saturday, he could feel his heart flutter a bit, truly believing you were gonna invite him to meet your folks. Even now he could imagine how it would have felt to be offered such a thing, to be brought home and be introduced as your boyfriend proper. Even after you brought up your friends he could have dealed with that if only it would bring him much more into your life. Only for you to bring him back down to Earth with your refusal to bring him.

The last time was when you couldn’t say you loved him back. God was that a kick to the chest because he may not be the smartest man, but even he knew that it meant one of two things. Either you wanted to say it and you couldn’t for whatever reason… or you didn’t love him and you were just feeling particularly guilty about it that day. ‘

He couldn’t accept that though. Something in your life was preventing you from saying it back and really he knew there could only be one thing. Was it really so monstrous to remove it if it left you feeling like this?

You love him, he knows that you do and you only need a push in the right direction in order to admit it.  

And if you didn’t… he couldn’t afford to think like that. 

So he had to push through. Had to do what was necessary. Had to believe you love him. 

Had to believe he was still worth loving.

He knew words meant nothing at the end of the day (you taught him as much) he had to find a way to prove you did love him and that you weren’t in it for yourself. 

The only question was how.

After he sees you leave that place, looking devastated, it takes everything within him to not take you in his arms. But he has a goal in mind and he has to figure out where exactly you're at mentally in order to push through. 

For all he knows you’re on your way to pack up your office right now, but he has to be sure. 

Red tries to stop him before he gets out of the car, but ends up backing off, with a single glare his way. He waits for a bit before approaching the modest looking house after you had left, and knocks on the door, and once it opens he has to remind himself who he’s doing this for, and knock that fucker’s lights out. 

Even when he has never met them before, people weirdly enough have a lot of trust in him. And Mark Whatever his last name is, proves to be no different. Elvis greets him with his first name and a quick hug as though they were old friends and lets himself into the house as Mark still gapes at the doorway. 

He finds a den with two identical mugs on a coffee table, and he finds a very familiar lipstick color on one of them (how could he not there’s still a ring of it around his cock). Mark shuffles his way into the sitting room, absolutely struck dumb by Elvis' presence, and Elvis finds it hard to believe that he ever saw him as a rival for your love. 

Mark notices the mugs still on the coffee table and makes a motion to grab them, stammering out an apology about the mess. Before he could do so, Elvis notices the light color from your mug and hides a self satisfied smirk at that. Where once you only took your coffee black, your tastes have now become closer aligned to his own. 

Elvis puts a hand down on the mug as he says, “Why dontcha take a seat right down there Mark?” It’s kind of pathetic really seeing a man take orders from a stranger in his own house, but it serves Elvis’ purposes all the better. And with the way Mark awkwardly takes a seat it’s apparent that he is still flustered at Elvis’ presence in his den. 

Good, he thinks. Should keep him honest.

“Wh-what’s this about?” Mark asks, uneasily.

“It’s about our good friend, Y/N of course,” he says as though it were so obvious.

“O-Oh, uh, she was over here not too long ago,” he stammered out, before his brows furrowed even more confused. “How do you know her?” 

“Through her daddy,” Elvis lies coolly. “I don’t know if you noticed but she’s been a bit outta sorts recently. And I’m hopin’ you could help me figure out what’s been botherin’ her.”

“I-I don’t think it’s my place to say,” Mark sputters out.

“C’mon Matt,” he says, leaning forward just a little bit to really sell the concern. “You can talk to me ‘bout this,” echoing your own words from way back when. 

If he noticed the wrong name he didn’t say anything as he nervously looks down at his own hands, before muttering out a soft “she’s been having some trouble with a patient of hers.”

“Huh…” he says, raising his brows a bit at this. “She tell you who?”

“She would never tell me anything like that,” he quickly defends and Elvis relaxes a bit. “But ummm… she-she just needed some advice as to how to handle this patient. And I-I let her know that whatever consequences she imagines would happen, are not as bad as the reality. So it would be better to act now as opposed to later.”

“Hmmm…” he hums, and just like that he can already feel you slipping through his fingers. But he holds on to that look you had leaving. How distressed you looked at the idea of having to drop him all together, but he also knows you’re a tough one that can make the right decisions, even when they’re hard, and that’s why he loves you so. “Tell me Max, what would you do if you were in her situation?” he asks even though he already figures the answer.

“Personally… I would’ve dropped the patient a long time ago,” he says without any remorse. He says this next part so coldly that he finds it hard to imagine that you have ever had anything in common with him save for your chosen field. “Not just because it is the right thing to do, but because, for as little information as I have about the situation, this patient is simply not worth all the grief they’re causing her.” 

But it’s not me, Elvis wanted to defend. It’s her work, if it weren’t for that gettin’ in the way she wouldn’t have to be so goddamn worried all the time. 

“And did you tell her that?” Elvis asks, worried as to what may be brewing in that little head of yours if this son of a bitch has been whispering in your ear.

“God no,” the professor says. “I told her to do what she can live with. But I know her,” he says leaning back, sure in his opinion, though unaware that these words perhaps just saved his life. “She’s gonna make the right choice on her own or it won’t mean much.”

For all his degrees, he doesn’t know what the fuck he’s talking about, is all Elvis can really think in that moment. He can’t possibly even begin to understand the kind of relationship you have with him, and how in fact he is the right choice for you, as you’re his. 

If a baby was about to walk into a pool, would he just let it happen because it was it’s choice? That’s downright evil in his book. Sometimes you need to make the decision for others and step in when they’re about to make the wrong ones. And if that’s what he has to do to for you then goddamnit he will. 

“Well, I think I best get going,” Elvis would say after contemplating this man's words. He knew how impressionable you can be, so he needs to act fast to undo whatever poison this asshole put in your head.

“O-oh of course,” he stutters. “Umm.. thank you for stopping by today.” 

“Now Mark, that fancy title you got, tells me you’re a smart man, right?” Elvis says a hand on his shoulder as he makes his way to the door. 

“...yes?” he answers tentatively.

“Now this story, I think it best you keep it to yourself.” he says, and he watches the man's brow furrowed in confusion. “Afterall I don’t think you wanna be known in your field for blabbin’ anything to anyone who just walks in your door.” 

“Of course not,” he says uneasily. “Thank you for your concern for Y/N, Elvis. Hopefully she’ll be back to normal soon.”

“Course,” Elvis would reply, holding out his hand for the professor, which Mark takes. “And please, call me Mr. Presley,” and on that confusing note he turns around and heads back to the car. 

He stews on that asshole’s words the whole way home, no one daring to talk about it until he did. He wants to trust 

But he knows if he lets this stand and doesn’t interfere, you’re going to make the wrong choice. Ultimately he decides to make the choice for you for your own good. He’s let chance rule his life for far too long, so he’s gotta make his own luck.

He cycles through just about everything he knows about you and tries to figure out how it could possibly help him.

And then he remembers how you once told him how your worst fear is seeing your patients fall back to their old ways, especially with those who abused them. 

Just the thought of going back to Parker makes him sick to his stomach. For as much as he loves you, he’s not willing to do anything that will bring that bastard back into the fold, and he doubts you would want that either. But he almost resolves himself to do it until he’s pulling into the driveway and sees Charlie’s car. 

And then he’s reminded that Charlie always did do a pretty spot on Parker impression. Especially if you ain’t ever heard that old toad talk before. And finally an awful plan began to form in his head.

It’s sneaky and underhanded, and it literally leaves a bad taste in his mouth that could only be chased away by that Wine. That sweet taste on his tongue reminds him of that first night in your office. He remembers how you cried so sweetly for him. How you pushed him away so overwhelmed with what you felt for him. How excited you got when he called you by your name. How you called him daddy for the first time. 

What he remembers most of all is how he had to apply some pressure to you in order to break through that tough professional wall you’ve set between the two of you. But it was worth that sweet sweet outcome. 

And if he gets the answer he wants from you, it would be worth it yet again. 

You wanted him to take charge then, and you want him to take charge now. 

So this is something he has to do and this is his cross to bear.

Ideally you never had to know. 

Once the call was over Charlie could hardly look him in the eye, and practically scrambles to get the hell out of there once given the signal. He feels a twinge of guilt and hopes that this be the last morally bad thing he asks of the man. But with the way you’ve been able to keep him on the straight and narrow since you’ve met him, he thinks it will be. 

Still he welcomes the solitude, knowing that this is undoubtedly going to be the worst minutes of his life, and the only one he could even fathom spending them with is the one he’s currently waiting on. He knows you well enough that you wouldn’t be one to sit on this for too long, so tonight he’s going to learn one of two things about you: either you tell him about “Parker” and try to help save him from the rat bastard… or you say yes to “Parker” and you prove yourself to be like the rest.  

He tries to chase that nasty feeling out of his head with the wine, and the sweet taste of it reminds him of that first night with you. How for all of your fighting and protesting you still gave in, how you kept coming back even as he knowingly put you through the wringer. How you would settle just as easily in his arms as he did in yours. 

If that ain't love, then I guess I don’t know what the hell is, he remembers thinking. You’re the last hope he has to believe that he can be loved for him, not for Elvis Presley. To love him through his fears, his hopes, his anxiousness, his temper, his jealousy, his dreams, all of it. 

And his faith in you is rewarded as you as his phone rings within minutes.

Where most people would blow up in a rage and scream and curse till their hoarse about something like this, you’re not like most people. No you’re far too composed to ever do that. Growing up in a house where your wants and feelings were second to everything will do that to you he guesses. 

You’re like that with everyone… except for him. You freely express all your thoughts and opinions with him, never afraid to give him the business when necessary but always honest in a way few people in his life are these days. 

You’re at your most vulnerable with him. You’re so used to hiding how you feel for others' benefits, and he’s glad you don’t have to do that with him. It was a long hard road to get to this point but goddamn if it wasn't worth every moment.  

He’s almost… giddy knowing that you’re going to be mad and he’s gonna be the only witness to it.

But for all your anger and fury, righteous or not. Ain’t none of it will change the fact that at the end of the day you still chose him. 

And even as you wordlessly turn and walk almost robotically up the stairs he’s confident that you’re going to choose him again. 

He barely has time to get the words out before the rest of them are in a frenzy to get out of the house, apparently unwilling to stick around for the fireworks. He doesn’t know what they're so squeamish about, he knows for a fact that they would’ve done worse if he asked them to. 

He trots up the stairs, maybe going a little slower, wanting to really rile you up. When he gets to your shared bedroom, you’re packing up a storm. 

It’s honestly cute that you think you’re going anywhere. 

A part of him knows he should feel more guilty about it. He does feel some guilt of course he’s not a monster, but it does feel roughly the same amount of guilt if he had broken a vase or something. It felt bad in the moment, and he tried his damndest to hide it, but ultimately it didn’t mean much. 

Sure you had been upset those first few weeks after the story dropped but eventually you did get over it and finally learned to enjoy your newfound life as his girl. Yes it cost you your job, but in the grand scheme of things it didn’t matter much. 

And if he’s being honest it only really mattered in getting you to meet him.

Most people would be either on their knees begging for forgiveness from you or continuing to feign ignorance to all of it.

But he’s not most people. He knows what he did and he knows he ain’t got nothing to be sorry over. 

“Can you believe them Hollywood producers ain’t never wanted me in no serious movies?” he says casually, now that there are no more secrets between either of you. 

You throw a bottle of wine at him. 

-------------------------

Ending Note: As Battie as my witness I’ve had this twist planned since the beginning. It’s up to you if I did enough to justify this choice but I am happy with the results. 

Taglist

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[roboticonography]

it's getting really upsetting to see certain corners of the fandom demonize peggy. do you have any thoughts on the matter?

Oh, if only this were a new thing, anon!

I’ve been in the MCU fandom since before there was an MCU to speak of. Shitting on women characters and the actors who play them has been going on forever. People posted about how they hated Pepper Potts, saying she wasn’t a good partner to Tony because she didn’t constantly enable his erratic behaviour, or sacrifice her safety to accommodate his trauma. They posted about how Pepper should have died in Iron Man 2, for the good of Tony’s story, and when Iron Man 3 came out, they said the same thing. It was fucking exhausting.

People also posted about how they hated Natasha Romanoff, how they hated Jane Foster, how they hated Wanda Maximoff, how they hated Sharon Carter. 

And yes, there were Peggy-haters then too. They called her a “karate-kicking fucktoy” and a “vengeful feminazi” and those are the most polite terms I can recall. They complained that she was too powerful, they complained that she was too feminine, they complained that she was pointless without Steve, they complained that she talked about Steve too much. And so on, and so forth, ad infinitum.

Now, to be clear, I am not talking about some of the very valid criticisms people had about the Agent Carter series - its writing, its casting, etc. I am also not talking about the very valid criticisms people have about the larger MCU related to representation, or lack thereof, across multiple fronts. I believe it’s possible to enjoy a piece of media and still have issues with some (or even many) aspects of it, and I enjoy reading posts that grapple with those issues. I’m not even talking about venting about a popular character you can’t stand: that has its place, though I’d argue that the place is probably not in the tag for that character. (I guarantee you, your “unpopular opinion” is never as unpopular as you think.)

I’m talking about misogyny. The same tired, rehashed, played out bullshit woman-hating that has existed in fandoms, so many fandoms, for at least the 25+ years that I’ve been active in them.

And that’s still what’s happening.

Many of the posts I’ve seen that fall under this category are expressing anger that one character or relationship or storyline or interpretation of canon is getting airtime, while another one, one they like better, is not. I’m not going to argue with anyone about that. You like what you like, and you're entitled to be annoyed if you don't get it. But if your argument is sound, you should be able to make your point effectively without calling the character the grossest euphemism for vagina you can find, or speculating on the exact sex acts an actor had to do to keep her character popular.

Other posts I’ve seen are just absolute buckwild conspiracy theory nonsense. The only thing I have to say about that is, yikes. Get well soon.

Tumblr, like other social media platforms, recognizes that they get more engagement if people are forced to play in the same sandbox, which is why it probably feels like you're seeing a disproportionate number of hate posts. And anyone who writes for money on the internet knows that hate clicks are often the juiciest clicks, and so they will write articles and listicles and polls with titles and subjects designed to get your blood up. It’s become increasingly difficult to avoid seeing other people’s ridiculous opinions. But that’s still the strategy that I find best helps me enjoy fandom. 

So if “certain corners” of the fandom are not to your taste, anon, then my advice is this: block, blacklist, and just don’t engage. Don’t feed the trolls. Instead, put that energy into positive interactions. Make art. Comment on things you liked. Find your friends, and have conversations that inspire you and amuse you, instead of ones that make you angry and tired.

Thanks for the ask! Take care.

[transfemstarscream]

I've actually been thinking about this for a while in the context of games. this might be a long ask, I'm sorry.

so recently there was this game released, it's called Forspoken, the MC is a homeless WoC from New York who is chased by the law and the local gangs with the only thing she has to her being her cat, which gets taken away from her at the beginning of the story. She gets isekaid into a fantasy land and is understandably bewildered by this, but most people take issue with her being constantly angry, selfish, not trusting, and swearing a lot. Yea I wonder given her backstory why she's like that.

Now I won't deny that the story of this game is overall mid. The game is overpriced and performs poorly on PC. But do I hear any of those things when I see most people criticize the game? No! They just talk about how much they hate the MC. But!

Another game that released recently is Hi Fi Rush. The main character is brash, rude, overconfident, selfish, and flirts with other characters in a very cringe manner. The game even has a trailer with a similar marvel-like dialogue forspoken's teaser had. But people praise this character! They argue it's bc the game is more cartoony and plays on their nostalgia but I watched a gameplay and I absolutely hated the MC. I'm betting the reason is rather, even if subconsciously, because he's a white dude.

He even has a female sidekick who's a (blonde and blue eyed...😟) WoC. She's smart, inventive, and objectively a better character. But if she was the MC I bet people would have found a way to hate her as well. There's simply no way to win. At this point I just feel like people don't want to see women in leading roles. Because let's be real, while Forspoken's story isn't a masterpiece it is also leagues above most popular JRPGs (Xenoblade I'm looking at you). But those games mostly have men in their leading roles don't they now. When I look up popular female characters in games, most of them are silent protags, them being a woman is a (gasp) reveal! or they are simply side characters. if she is named as a loved mc it's likely that her role in it was controversial. This honestly depresses me. These people have no issue with women's writing when they're little above fanservice or even just there to titillate them. They literally just hate women speaking out or being their own characters.

Sorry for the long rant been feeling someway about this kind of fandom misogyny for a long while <3

don’t ever feel bad for sending long asks! i love reading your thoughts.

i’ve only watched brief clips of forspoken along with learning the basis of the plot so i can’t speak my mind on how the game plays out. the protagonist did catch my eye, though; she seems unique, and a cool candidate for what is essentially a isekai protagonist. i knew the basis of the game’s plot, and although i wasn’t immersed, i was curious.

frey—the protagonist—is interesting, in my eyes. i don’t think the chosen bits of dialogue shown off in trailers and teasers do her justice; she’s not always throwing “well, THAT just happened” one-liners. she gets angry, justifiably so, because being transported to a whole other world when you just want to reunite with the one most dear to you is going to be frustrating. it’s going to be infuriating having things thrown at you and you just have to accept it.

now, i think criticism towards the game is justified. overpriced, like you said—and performs poorly for its price. the game doesn’t stick out amongst its genre. but frey is probably one of its redeeming factors? i’d say she absolutely is. it’s reasonable for her to be not the most accepting of her situation—she just wants her cat back! it’s a simple motivation, but a meaningful one because of her situation before all of this happened. a lot of hate targeted towards her doesn’t feel complete in what it dislikes. they just dislike her because… uh. uhm. the game is cringe and she’s an asshole. 1/10

i don’t know a lot about hi-fi rush so i can’t go too deep; all i know is i saw a trailer for it and didn’t care for it nor the aesthetic it’s going for. but the male protagonist is reminiscent of every cocky, flirty in a slightly obnoxious way male character i’ve seen a hundred times so i am surprised to see a lot of praise for him? maybe he’s not so bad but… what’s unique about him. everything i see him praised for, i see frey derailed for. if the argument is that the game is cartoony and nostalgic so it works in his case, then that’s hilarious.

i pity female characters because there’s just absolutely no way reception can be normal about them. female protagonists are treated as inherently controversial, or “special”: they can never be truly relatable, or just be. a female character will be subjected to sexualization regardless of any factor (and i mean any factor, because creeps are dedicated to showing pride in being creeps). i don’t doubt the female sidekick in hi-fi rush is already popular amongst an annoying subculture of people who cannot engage with female characters without pornographic lenses.

like female characters cannot ever be. blame is placed onto their writing even when it’s absolutely not the case. people will find any reason to hate them; if she’s nice she’s boring, if she’s mean she’s annoying. audience is dedicated to enforcing the belief that a woman’s worth is tied to her relationships with men—because that’s where a lot of “criticism” of female characters stem from. they can never just be.

[majorbaby]

i have always flinched at the use of the terms ‘supremacist’ in a facetious way to announce ones fannish preferences because i’ve basically only ever seen that word used when describing the ideological basis for systemic racism: white supremacy and its subscribers, white supremacists. 

you’d be right to say that systemic misogyny (although i actually don’t see it called ‘systemic misogyny’ a whole lot even if that’s what it is) is a result of ‘male supremacy’ where that means a belief that men are superior to women but we don’t usually call it that, we commonly use ‘patriarchy’ or ‘toxic masculinity’ instead. in mentioning this, i mean to point out a pattern of re-appropriation of terms used to describe the oppression experienced specifically by racialized people for "harmless" purposes.

i’d been telling myself that i was being over sensitive and that no one meant anything by it and i still mostly believe the latter half. it’s true that ignoring and/or minimizing one’s own reactions to marginalization is both an inevitable consequence of being a underrepresented racialized person (or a woman, a queer person, a disabled person, a poor person or any intersections of these groups but this post is about being racialized) and also a frankly useful survival tactic... but it’s also true that i’m just more inclined to turn over rocks and look for the race angle. all of this had me thinking about writing this post and continuously coming to the conclusion that it wasn’t necessary or that i couldn’t really support it with facts.

but it turns out, I can:

supremacist, noun - plural, supremacists

1 an advocate or adherent of the supremacy of one group : a person who believes that one group of people as identified by their shared race, ethnicity, sex, gender, or religion is inherently superior to other groups and should have control over those other groups

2 WHITE SUPREMACIST

Synonyms: racialist, racist

perhaps using ‘supremacist’ colloquially, doesn’t share exactly the same weight as calling your s//b read/it of 7 million users, arr/pcmxstxrrxcx and thinking that is completely fine. The concept of the ‘master race’ was actually developed by the Nazis, but it’s been easily reappropriated as this harmless, cheeky name. I say “harmless” but i’m censoring the example because i have some concerns around that particular internet subculture. even in cases where it should be obvious why this is inappropriate, it’s still not seen as a problem.  -- edit because I used the example of the term “master race”, I should’ve mentioned here that while all racialized people have their suffering minimized, jewish people are particularly hurt by this for lots of reasons that i can’t succinctly address here but i want to at least say that people being largely (7 million subs) unbothered by this is a result of a willfully ignorance and denial of the seriousness of antisemitism - this is a result of white supremacy but all non-jewish people, particularly in leftist spaces need to take responsibility for this and include jews in social justice movements.  --

Maybe we think ‘supremacist’ is okay because it’s related to the words ‘supreme’ and ‘superior’, which have lots of benign uses:

(Lake Superior is so-named because it is the largest of the great lakes. A ‘Supreme Court’ is, in most cases, so-named because it has a higher level of authority than any of its counterparts that may exist in a particular region’s judiciary system. A Crunchwrap supreme is so-named because it’s marketed as being the answer to the question ‘hard or soft shell’ and therefore ‘the best of both worlds’ and also because it attempted to address the portability issues with tacos... burrito erasure if you ask me.)

i can’t account for every instance of the use of the word “supremacist” but i do think it’s worth mentioning that when i search the term ‘supremacist’ (not white supremacist, just supremacist) google images returns images of confederate flags, nazi imagery or anti-white supremacy protests. if i search the news i get the latest in white supremacist moves. and not that you absolutely must take my word for it, but i can’t really think of another way its commonly used. 

i’m sure people have thrown this word around in other hobbyist spaces, i’m just talking about fandom because fandom is one of my hobbies. i’m also not calling anyone racist and i’m definitely not calling anyone a white supremacist for declaring themselves to be a pancake supremacist or an air sign supremacist in their bio - i realize you’re having fun and identifying a preference or a love of something - i would assume it’s the same energy as calling yourself a cat person or a coffee enthusiast. but still i flinch, and after looking into it further, i think ‘micro aggression’ might apply here.

[a-polite-melody]

If not for how little I care to have confrontations myself, I’d be going through the transandrophobia tag and asking everyone stating they don’t like transandrophobia as a framework to talk about transmasc issues what we should be using instead.

Because I’m 99% sure all the answers I’d get would all fall into one of three categories:

1) “Use anti-transmasculinity/other term which has been created in response to the criticisms of the construction of the word we’re using itself”

Which is… the same framework. It’s just a different word. There may be slightly different conversations happening under the tags of each word because everyone has their own preference in which word to use, which creates skew in the discussions. But ultimately, I tag all three of the most popular words—transmisandry, transandrophobia, and anti-transmasculinity—in my posts because they’re roughly interchangeable.

I do know there’s some push for specifics (ie. transmisogyny being different from anti-transfemininity and transandrophobia being different from anti-transmasculinity) but at this point this distinction is still relatively new and most people are having conversations about transmasc issues under whichever word they’ve decided they like the most and you can sub out the word they used for the one of your preference and it retains its meaning. Same framework.

2) “Use misogyny/transmisogyny or misdirected misogyny/transmisogyny”

If we don’t add the ‘misdirected’ before misogyny/transmisogyny, we get dismissed instantly. So that’s out the window.

For transmisogyny, I’ve gone over this a bunch, but it seems that many trans women and fems feel that us using the term to discuss the ways that transmascs are harmed as well is stepping on their toes. And misdirected transmisogyny, in this case, where it means trans women/fem-directed bigotry, is different from what we’re talking about with transmasc issues. Yes, some of transmasc oppression can come from being mistaken as a trans woman/fem, and that being described as ‘misdirected transmisogyny’ makes sense to me, but that is one experience of many we have.

And, as for misogyny, we do have misogyny directed purposefully at us without people ‘misdirecting’ at us by mistaking our identities. People who are fully accepting of trans people and see us as our gender can and do still enact misogyny on us. And quite often that can look like being forced to choose whether you want to be the target of misogyny from those people or the target of toxic masculinity from those people.

But anyway, we literally started creating our own terms to discuss this stuff because people were upset that we were saying that what we face is misogyny. And we refuse to call things actually directed at us ‘misdirected’ anymore, which is another reason to have a term we can use to mean ‘directly targeted at transmasculine people’.

3) “Listen to trans women/read Whipping Girl/etc.”

This is just telling us to shut up and let other people talk about our issues for us. And assumes we can’t have ever listened to a trans woman speak on this topic, and are too undereducated to be able to speak about our own experiences. AND also expects trans women/fems to not only be experts on their own oppression, but on the oppression of all other trans people to the point of being expected to give energy to direct and gatekeep the existence of discussion about those other types of trans oppression. This attitude harms everyone involved.

Okay so like…

“I think transandrophobia is inherently a bad framework for discussing transmasculine issues”

Is fine and all.

But the thing is?

So many of us feel underserved by the existing frameworks people are using to describe our experiences for us, which is why we’re trying to come up with a framework at all.

And so just saying “trans men and mascs shouldn’t be using this framework” in the face of that sounds a lot like “and so you should go back to other people describing your experiences for you” because of an entire lack of suggesting any other framework.

Build your own frameworks to discuss this stuff if you’d like, if you think the way those of us using the word transandrophobia are doing a poor job. That’s totally fine. But that’s not what these people are really saying, when you look at it, because they’re not using any other framework to discuss these things. They’re not showing us better frameworks or working toward making those better frameworks. They’re just saying “what you’re doing isn’t good enough” and that’s it. That’s where I’m failing to see any good-will behind this new angle of coming after those of us who are talking about transandrophobia.

[somecunt]

I’ve dissembled my lesbophobia, my misogyny, and my femmephobia.

I’ve carried a fear of being attracted to women, for a long time. I have a lot of anxiety surrounding attraction to women. Whenever I’d see a nude woman in a sexual context I’d become disgusted. This is partially due to it being very normalized for gay cis men to find women’s bodies, and objects associated with women’s bodies repulsive.

I’m working on it definitely. I didn’t value the relationships of wlw or wlnb/nblw or lesbians,sapphics and related attractions.

I used to have a, “not like other girls” mindset, yeah sure I’m ftm and I was in fact “not like other girls” but I leaned into misogyny heavily to distance myself for girls/women, and femininity in girls/women. some of my hatred of female bodies may also come from my need to not be in association with girls/women.

This could be misinterpreted for me as an trans male coming in to scold cis gay males for their “inherent attraction to male bodies and repugnance towards female bodies”, being a gay man isn’t synonymous with hating vaginas, breasts, and loving dick. I’m firmly attracted to nonwomen, and I like breasts, and vaginas, I like penis as well, but in terms of men I do have a preference toward vaginas, nonbinary people, no preference.

In the way I interpret sexuality, what I believe determines it is what are you thinking behind it. regardless of your partner if you’re intimate with them because you’re perceiving their body within womanhood, then you’re probably attracted to women, if you’re partner doesn’t perceive themselves that way, that’s an issue. there’s other things that affect this, like are you forcing yourself to perceive their body in some sort of way to prevent you from facing the reality that you’re one way. I think forcing, and widening your perspective is different.

We’ve been taught that penises, are male genitalia, they’re don’t have to be, they’re penises at their core, and they’re attached to many types of people, trans/cis men, fem/masc/neutral aligned people, trans/cis women. It’s understandable that you categorize penises as male because you were raised in a society where that’s the norm. Seeing more women and non-men with penises while genuinely recognizing them as women, and nonbinary can aid in expanding that view. You don’t need to sleep with anyone you don’t want to, but placing their body into a category of disgust is wrong.

Women’s bodies are beautiful, although I’m not attracted to them sexually, aesthetically all bodies carry their own intense beauty.

Some people don’t even weigh gender presentation, gender identity, or genitalia in their attraction to people, which I guess would be called pansexuality, although plenty of bisexual people also feel this way about their attraction. This doesn’t mean pansexual people can’t have these same issues of perceiving all bodies afab as women’s bodies, and all bodies amab as men’s bodies.

[imthebadguyyy]

maybe something like interviewer asking her sexist questions and the boys stand up for her , after that interview she feels insecure and the boys comfort her . that's just an idea you don't have to write it !! <33

I hope you like it, and I'm so sorry about the delay 😭 I couldn't find my footing with this one, and I hope it's what you wanted ! Have a lovely day 💙

The One Where They're There For Her

Pairing - One Direction x Reader (6thmember!female!reader)

Fandom - One Direction (Directioners)

Summary - A particularly sexist interview decides to reduce you to just a sexual being and makes no effort to hide his misogyny. But the boys are there to support you.

Warnings - sexualization of the lgbt community, sexist comments, swearing, (honestly I hated myself for writing some of the comments here,and I'm so sorry)

Being a part of the biggest band in the world comes with certain responsibilities. Not responsibilities that come along with signing a recording contract, but those that a person deems themselves responsible for. For example, as the only female in a boyband, a female with a fanbase as large as yours, you took it upon yourself to always stand up for what's right, and to be an ally for the causes close to your heart.

That meant that your social media was often flooded with information about important causes, or your opinions on issues like feminism. Was it always well received? Heck no. There were people filled your feed with hate and comments calling you the most horrible names and labelling you a 'man hater' and a 'bitch' But you didn't let it get to you. On most days. On days like today, it was all you could do to keep it together. It had been a tiring few days, touring, recording, performing and doing an endless amount of interviews and photoshoots. It was safe to say you were on the last of your nerves, having battled your way through a makeup artist who had insisted on pointing out your flaws and had used a shit ton of makeup to cover them up. You had battled a photographer who had not hesitated to tell you that if you didn't look more feminine people would think you were turning into a man.

Before you could retaliate, Paul had dragged him away and told management to cancel the photoshoot, and find another photographer before grabbing the six of you some sandwiches and had let you all go back for a quick power nap at the hotel. Then in about half an hour he had woken you up, to get you ready for another interview. That's how you were here, in a white jumpsuit and a black blazer jacket, paired with black heels. Another day, another interviewer that got on your nerves. But this one, this one was different. This interviewer was different, but also the same. Another misogynistic man who thought he was entitled to stare at your ass and cleavage, and eye fuck you as you settled into a seat in between Niall and Zayn.

Settling in, you crossed one knee over the other, plastering a fake smile onto your face, as the man leaned back in his chair, throwing you a sleazy smirk. Noticing the look, Zayn shifted so you were out of view of the interviewer, but in view of the audience. It was in moments like this that you were a 100× more grateful to have your boys. They were well aware of how sleazy some interviewers could be, having had plenty of experience with them, and Zayn and Louis in particular were very protective about the way you were treated. Squeezing your thigh softly, he leaned back a little, lips settling into a thin line as he looked at the interviewer with a cold look. A little behind, Louis threw the interviewer a dirty look.

"So, One Direction! Congratulations on the album, as you all know its out on November the 22nd, with eighteen new songs, including the singles Night Changes and Steal My Girl Speaking of stealing girls, do you think I could steal your number Y/N? And may I mention, you look ver, very hot in that outfit" The interviewer joked, throwing you what he thought was a sexy smirk. (P.S - it wasn't) Answering with an awkward laugh, you shook your head, as Niall tensed up beside you. "Aww come on, your'e a pretty girl, I'm a handsome guy, let's go out sometime" he pressed on, ignoring the growing anger in Harry's eyes. "That's umm, nice. But no thanks, I'm not going to go out with you" was your answer, as you pushed a strand of hair behind your ear. Picking up on your nervous tic, Zayn moved his hand to rest on your knee, stopping it from bouncing up and down.

"Aww come on baby, what is it? You like girls or something? Because I wouldn't mind being a part of that action either" the sleazebag chuckled, ignoring the disgusted look Liam sent his way. "That's rude" Liam said, while Zayn tightened his grip on your knee. "Oh come on lads, are you telling me the idea doesn't appeal to you? Two women together, mm, makes me all excited just thinking about it, especially if one of them's Y/N" That comment was all it took for Louis to stand up, turning to the man and saying in a voice much rougher than his usual voice, "Alright, that's fuckin' enough, what the fuck is actually wrong with you?" he was backed up by Liam, who stood up, going to tower over the interviewer, whose eyes had lost some of the sleazy look in them. "All you've done since we walked in here is make those disgusting comments about Y/N, and it's sickening. Have some fucking respect" he practically spat.

Behind him, Zayn took your hand in his and pulled you to your feet, noticing the slight glossiness in them, leading you back to the dressing rooms, while Niall, Liam, Louis and Harry stayed back to continue to snap at the interviewer. "That is no way to treat a woman, and not only are you disrespecting her, you also made those god awful events about seeing women together. Your'e a shame to every single person in this room by talking like that" Harry continued, glancing over his shoulder to check if you were okay.

"And no, it doesn't excite us, because we are not assholes, and you are, a disgusting sleaze who does not deserve the job he has. Fuckin loser" Niall chimed in, standing up and storming out. Louis stood up as well, turning to directly face the cameras and the cameramen and sound technicians, who had all looked shocked when the man had made his comments towards you. "I sure as hell hope you have that on record, so you can see just how fucking sexist this industry is to women. Y/N does the same job as us, works just as hard and has the same number of awards, nominations, and records and yet you decide to only focus on her body, clothes, love life and sexuality. Get a fucking life" he spat at the camera, before walking away himself, eventually followed by Harry and Liam, who apologized to the outraged fans before leaving themselves. As they made their way to the dressing rooms they could hear the audience telling the interviewer to apologize to you, their anger at the way you were treated echoing through the building.

Walking in, Harry caught sigh of you curled up in one of the armchairs, with Louis sitting beside you, while Niall and Zayn talked to a furious Paul. "He had no damn right to treat her like shite, and you need to make sure that he knows those comments were un-fuckin-acceptable" Niall was saying, looking angrier than Harry had ever seen him. "And to make those sickening comments about wanting to get action? Can't we sue him for something?" Was Zayn's reply, glancing over his shoulder at you to make sure you were still okay. "We can't sue him, atleast I don't think we can, but I'll have someone let the smug bastard know that he needs to learn how to respect a woman" Paul said, before leaving the room to give the six of you some time together before you had to head back to the hotel.

"How're you feeling darling?" Louis said, moving over and patting your knee so you moved. "I'm okay" you mumbled back, letting Louis settle in next to you, leaning back to rest on his chest. "He had no fuckin right to say any of that, and don't you let it trouble you for a second" Zayn added, pouring out a cup of tea for you and for Louis and Harry. "I don't care about what he said, I couldn't care less, but it was just so frustrating, sitting there and listening to him just sexualize a whole community of people. You've got to be in a really sad place to think of shit like that. That's what annoyed me. You think I give a damn about what he said about my clothes or wanting to take me out on a date? It was the way he was talking, like he was sure any woman would be glad to have him that irked me. He's really tiresome" was your reply, as you reached forward for a sip of your tea. "That's the right attitude love. Haters gonna hate" Harry said.

"I know that. But I just wish I could punch him once, which sounds mean, but he does kind of deserve it" Niall said, earning a laugh from you. Niall was never usually aggressive, and even now, he wasn't particularly rude but it was rare to see him wanting to punch someone. "It's okay Niall, you don't have to. I can do it myself, but I won't" you replied, leaning up to squeeze his hand. "Besides, Ni, if you went and punched him, I'd do it too, and then we'd all go to jail" Liam chimed in, scrolling through his twitter. "Twitter isn't happy either babe. #stopsexualization and #Y/Ndeservesbetter is trending already" he added, showing you his phone. "If it means some of these sexist asses get their heads out of the sand, I'm happy. But I dont want to to think about it now" you replied, cuddling closer to the warmth radiating from Louis's body.

"Okay, we won't talk about it. Do you want to go back to the hotel?" Harry asked, standing up and walking to the door "No I want to go to Nando's. Anybody else hungry?" You asked, to nods of assent from the boys. "I'm starving. Those stupid sandwiches didn't fill me up at all" Zayn said, standing up to grab his coat and wallet. "I know and I'm craving some hot Peri Peri chicken with some fries. Do you think they'd let me put the lemon and herb sauce on the fries?" You asked, standing up yourself, earning a laugh from Louis. "Your'e an international superstar babe, I think they'd give you some lemon herb sauce" Liam joked.

Laughing, the six of you made your way to the car, with Harry and Niall squishing you in between them, as Louis sat in the back with Liam, and Zayn sat in the front with Paul (he was driving thank GOD) "I'm proud of you darling" Harry chimed in suddenly. "I am too" Niall added. "You know I am" Louis said, before Liam added "Always babe" and Zayn turned to smile at you before adding, "We are all proud of you, and we always will be, not only because you do a damn good job of not listening to the haters, but because you do what you think is right" "Awh come on, your'e gonna make me cry" you mumbled, leaning into Niall's shoulder. "Almost makes me feel bad for teasing you about having an extremely low spice tolerance the last time we were at Nando's Haz" you smirked, earning a roar of laughter from the boys.

"That chicken was spicy love!" "It was lemon and herb with no peri peri!" "And it was spicy!"

And just like that, you were back to messing around with each other. Sleazy interviewers would come and go, but your boys were always there to support you. Always.

-------

A/N - Thanks for reading ! I'd also like to apologize on the behalf of this fictitious interviewer I made up, I felt so bad while writing some of this 😭 anyways, I hope this is what you wanted! Enjoy !

Tags - @zaynkissbot @gucci-hazza @bxtchboy69

[hoediaz]

who is agn? i've seen loads of posts about 'her' but idk who she is or what's going on

sorry to be an absolute bitch but she is the worst blog on this website for real. putting this under a read more so people who don’t suffer rage black outs don’t have to deal with this.

chelsea mentioned some of her highlights before which include some overt racism and homophobia but last night she really decided to up her game. first, she spent weeks pulling the word retcon out of her ass and slapping it on every plot point she doesn’t like or understand instead of rubbing together two brain cells to even attempt to comprehend how narratives might work (including eddie ana’s break up since, according to her, eddie was Clearly in love with ana in 4x13 during the follow your heart scene and yet at the same time he was a misogynist and treated her terribly :/ did you know panic attacks are misogynistic? shame all those panic attacks i’ve had have been out of misogyny and not mental illness if only i had known id be able to attend agn’s school of feminism and cure myself). but then with the end of bt (aka the departure of her most beloved girl boss who can do no wrong, since i don’t think she cares about bt at all past taylor since she actively hates buck) (and yet. while she hates buck she never treats him with the same vitriol she gives eddie. now i’d say that’s racism but according to her eddie’s white so! guess it’s texas phobic or something :/) she went completely off the rails.

part of this was of course! saying it was a retcon despite the multiple references to dosed but what can we expect from someone who learned the word retcon last week and never bothered to dig up the meaning. it’s ok i get it i did the same in the ninth grade with words like pathetic fallacy and i don’t think you need anything higher than a ninth grade education to work at fox news. anyway! that led to saying anyone celebrating the bt break up is a misogynist! bc idk if you knew this but apparently 911 is the taylor kelly show and everything should be about HER development, not buck’s, and if you celebrate buck’s development you’re a woman hater just like eddie ❤️ now EYE am actually a woman hater because i think taylor kelly and owen strand should move to ohio together to start a bed and breakfast, the bt bones celebration was just a bonus.

and when that wasn’t enough absolute bullshit stupidity for one night, she decided to use her time to type out a post onto oliver stark’s internet in which she called buck a “dirty firefighter” for not wanting his gf to report on an incident that involved his family, equating him to dirty cops that protect other corrupt cops. because that’s a totally fucking proportional reaction to having your fictional ship break up, because police corruption is not a genuine thing that happens in real life and impacts real people who aren’t taylor fucking kelly. i fr even hours later don’t even have the words to put together to express how fucking stupid and insensitive and offensive that is. it is genuinely beyond me how you could ever in your life see a FICTIONAL couple break up and become so fucking unhinged you think it’s ok to make light of real issues to force a fictional character into some make believe villain role just so you can avenge a side character on a ryan murphy production. get some fucking help for real.

anyway last night when she posted i reblogged it calling her an idiot and she immediately blocked me, just like she blocked every other person who tried to reblog it to point out how offensive that was which is always a good sign that you’re being rational.

oh also she said taylor and lucy should be together which was just personally offensive to me, a lucy understander, and then also, since miss agn can’t go three seconds without being generally offensive, she has to say taylor/lucy would be better than buddie bc buck and eddie are [checks notes] white men and taylor and lucy are oh dear…. yeah :/

in conclusion agn is racist, homophobic, terminally fucking stupid, and also cowardly to boot and i hope she has an absolutely terrible day. i hope fox news fires her. i hope megan west never has a job again just to spite agn. bt is finally bones and the fact that that makes agn feral is all i need, get fucked agn.

[lavenderknivess]

Lesbian here who sees a lot of herself in Eloise (also sorry in advance for the ramble i promise this is in good faith, i just have a lot of thoughts).

-I don’t see her as queer because she’s a feminist. There are a lot of non-queer independent women characters. I’d argue most, if not all, of the stories i grew up with had badass feminist characters had their stories end with them ending up with a man.

I see her as queer because of how since the beginning of the show, she’s expressed feelings of being different because of how she sees the world and her disinterest in suitors. In season 2 she explains to violet that her whole distaste for balls and suitors and dancing with men isn’t a “rebellious phase” or a “party trick,” it’s a part of who she is and she can’t control it. I also think eloise being queer puts a LOT of her internalized misogyny into context and help it make more sense (although she needs to grow as a person). Im from an area where the “oh you’ll change your mind and find a husband someday” and “you can be independent and have a husband” mentality is pushed on girls from a young age and tied with femininity and it is SO isolating for lesbians and women on the aro/ace spectrums and can send them down that not like other girls pipeline.

She hates the heteronormative system and marriage mart because she genuinely CAN’T fit in it. It’s also really telling that in s1 part 1, when she’s in that “if you can’t beat them join them” and “giving society a chance” mentality, she still doesn’t give suitors a chance and actively hides when she thought john was calling on her. She also centers her life around relationships with other women and women’s issues.

The way she experiences the world (in the show reads as very different from an independent badass straight woman like Kate or even Lady Danbury for example and that’s what pushes me and a lot of people to see eloise as queer (particularly lesbian, my hc, or aroace which is another popular hc) and want that shown.

Basically: it’s not the feminism. I don’t see her as being ok with the system of marriage and state of women’s rights if she were straight. I do think though that her characterization is reflective of a lot of queer experiences and so she reads as such.

-for the Eloise/Cressida thing, i just liked their chemistry and use of courting language before part 2 messed it up.

I do think penelope/eloise is purely platonic and a good example of a platonic female frienship (although i do think eloise could have had a one sided crush on pen but that’s a different story).

Potential hot take here.

Just background—I myself am bisexual and I LOVE that they canonized bi Benedict and I screamed in delight when we learned about Fran.

But like…I actually would like if Eloise *were not* queer. Not because I care about how gender swapping her love would turn out, or because “now there are too many”. Like make the rest of the family gay I don’t care.

It’s hard to articulate why exactly but I guess…

—why does her being a feminist equal being queer?

—As cute as Eloise/Cressida is, why can’t they be just really good friends? Like I know, I know, insert and they were roommates meme here but having emotional intimacy and even physical platonic affection is important in friendships

Trust me I feel weird for saying this.

[writer-in-theory]

A Moment of Weakness: Part Four

PART FOUR: INTERROGATIONS & FAMILY

summary: spencer interrogates sophie’s husband in hopes of getting a major breakthrough in the case. sophie remembers her first thanksgiving with spencer. series summary: a jane doe walks into a minnesota hospital at 2:13am in the middle of winter, requesting that dr. spencer reid with the fbi be notified. the jane Doe is spencer’s college friend, with whom he’d lost communication over a year before—the friend who, according to everyone else in her life, wasn’t missing at all. so the question still remains, what happened to her in the fourteen months she was gone, and why did no one report her disappearance? pairing: spencer reid x original female character content warnings: canon-wtypical violence/case descriptions, mentions/descriptions of abuse, mentions of sexual assault, mentions of fertility issues, misogyny word count: 6.4k a/n: i just wanted to give a huge thank you to everyone! i was not expecting this support for this fic, so thank you so much. i would love to hear what y'all think of everything so far. also, let me know if you want any kind of tag list set up. i also wanted to put here a note i have on ao3 about this fic. i wanted to point out that in some ways spencer may seem ooc. while he should be close to his character on the show, i have been heavily considering how having any sort of stable support system before the bau would change how he thought and acted, so if there are some slight differences then know they're intentional.

main masterlist series masterlist

NOVEMBER 12, 2011

Spencer usually tried not to think ill of their suspects before they had enough evidence to convict. Even then, many of them had suffered heavy trauma that made them into what they were.

That didn’t stop him from imagining all of the ways he could kill Thomas Bennington. The man was sitting in the interrogation room, not seeming concerned at all. His shoulders were relaxed and dropped, head up and eyes looking around the room not to calculate but merely to look. He didn’t look like a man whose wife had been missing for fourteen months. He looked more like a man who was sitting and waiting for a movie to start.

“You’re not going in there,” a stern voice spoke, his boss coming up to stand alongside him in front of the observation window.

“Hotch,” Spencer immediately protested, whipping his head to the side to stare at the other man. Surely he understood why he had to go in there? “I have to.”

“No, you don’t. You’re too close to this,” Hotch spoke with the tone that said ‘this is the final word.’ “You can watch from here. You’re too involved as it is.”

Not long after he said that Morgan and Emily stepped into the interrogation room, taking their seats on the opposite side of the table from Thomas. “Welcome back,” Thomas greeted, sending a smooth smile their way, “It’s good to see you two again.”

“Is it? Most people don’t think it’s good to be sitting where you are,” Emily called back, calm and collected as always.

“What can I say? It’s interesting to see how the other side lives,” Thomas answered, shrugging his shoulders simply. What an ass.

“When was the last time you saw your wife, Mr. Bennington?” Emily pressed, and Spencer clenched his fists until he could feel his nails digging into his skin at the way the man smirked.

“I don’t remember exactly.”

“I think you’re lying,” Morgan called out, voice tense in the way it got when one of their own was hurt. “You don’t get multiple chances at this, so if I were you, I’d answer our questions honestly the first time. So I’ll ask you again: When was the last time you saw your wife?”

He wouldn’t say it out loud, but Spencer relished in the flash of fear he saw on Thomas’s face. He didn’t normally think of himself as a vindictive person, but Spencer found himself believing it now. “I don’t know, over a year ago.”

“You need to be more specific than that.”

“September 18, 2009.”

Spencer was sure all of the blood left his head. There was no way this was a coincidence. He turned to look at Hotch, sure there was a wild look in his eyes from the way concern reflected back at him from his boss. “What is it, Reid?” Hotch pressed, a sense of urgency leaking into the usually calm voice.

“That’s exactly one year from when I last spoke to Sophie.”

“Did she tell you what happened?”

“No, I didn’t even know there were problems in their marriage.” He practically choked around the word, guilt wrapped around him at the thought of reducing her situation to that simple of a term. It hadn’t been simple marital problems, it had been a hostile, abusive situation that she’d dealt with for five years without him noticing once. “I can go ask her.”

“That’s not necessary. JJ’s at the hospital right now,” Hotch spoke, slowly in a way not too far off from how they might speak to an unstable suspect. He supposed the man was right in doing so because Spencer’s head physically reeled back as if he’d been hit with the information. The team had told him. So far, Spencer had been there each time Sophie was questioned about her situation, there to comfort her when the questions got too difficult.

“Why wasn’t I told? I need to be there.”

“No, you need to be here. JJ told me what happened last time Sophie was interviewed. We think she may be holding back information.”

“What makes you think that?” Spencer wasn’t sure he wanted to know the answer, didn’t want to consider the fact that Sophie was keeping things from him yet again .

“The child we found with Bennington. The DNA tests came back, and it’s her daughter,” Hotch began to explain. That didn’t make sense either until a memory flooded back to Spencer. He used to help her study for her exams in med school. He’d read through her textbooks and lecture notes so he could quiz her on everything she needed to know. He’d helped her study for the exam on treating pregnant patients, too.

Ropinirole is a pregnancy category C drug. It is known to have teratogenic effects in each trimester but may cause the embryo to be unviable if taken in the first trimester. These effects are heightened when taken at higher doses.

Spencer already came to the same conclusion, but Hotch finished it for him anyway. “The baby is alive and well, and there are no congenital defects. This indicates that she wasn’t being dosed with ropinirole for at least nine months.”

She wasn’t dosed with the memory-altering drug for nine of the thirteen months. Sophie had to remember far more than what was being said. Spencer clenched his jaw tightly, almost having the brief worry of cracking a tooth before his thoughts took over. The tears blurred his vision and he considered momentarily how embarrassing it was to be crying in front of his boss, but by now Hotch was far more than his boss. This was a man who had been there for him through everything, who had mentored him every step of the way. “Why doesn’t she trust me?” The words fell out before he could really think about them, voice quivering along with his lower lip as he struggled to contain the tears. It had almost been better when he thought Sophie didn’t remember any part of her captivity. It would have made catching the perpetrators near impossible, but at least she wouldn’t have the traumatic memories.

“JJ said it was clear how much she cares about you,” Hotch spoke, voice gentle and soothing in the way only a parent’s could be. It made him, not for the first time but certainly for the first time in a while, wish he had a parent around capable of comforting him right now. “You’re a profiler, you’ve seen this before.”

“She’s protecting me.” Spencer didn’t remember thinking those words, but it was definitely his voice speaking them. He spat them out like they tasted bitter in his mouth, like he couldn’t stand to speak them into existence. Of course, he recognized the pattern, they saw it frequently in victims. That was why they tried to interview them alone if possible, to avoid any information from being picked out.

“JJ is hoping to find out what she knows by going alone. She’ll let the rest of us know when she gets back, but you can’t be there.” Spencer parted his lips to protest--how could he possibly work the case if he didn’t have any of the information?--but Hotch seemed to know exactly what he was going to say anyway. “We can’t break Sophie’s trust like that. She’s still a victim, and we wouldn’t do that to any other victim. For now, I want you off the case. We’ll ask you questions as needed, but until Sophie explicitly says you can know, you’ll be treated as part of the victim’s family.”

Deep down, he knew it was true. If a victim ever explicitly said they didn’t one a specific team member in the room while they were interviewed, then that was the end of it. That didn’t happen too often, and it made Spencer feel helpless in a way he hadn’t in a long time, but he had to understand.

“I hate to say it, but I think we need Pretty Boy in there,” Morgan sighed as he and Emily exited the interrogation room. “He’s too calm, he’s not giving us anything.”

Spencer knew what Morgan was implying. Abusers tended to hate friends of the opposite sex from their partner, typically feeling overwhelming jealousy. If Bennington knew he and Sophie were close (Spencer had been her best man, of course, he knew), then Spencer could hopefully throw him off enough to reveal something, anything .

“Reid,” Hotch started, and Spencer thought for sure he was going to have to fight for this, but the man just said, “be careful.”

He wasn’t quite sure what the other man meant; Bennington was chained to a metal table that was bolted to the ground, there was no danger for Spencer in there. Still, he nodded, removing his gun from his belt and putting it in the case just outside the door.

It took a moment to collect himself before he went in. While he was trying to evoke a reaction from Bennington, he couldn’t allow himself to display the anger he felt towards him. Spencer couldn’t give him anything, because Bennington would be far too willing to use it against him. He had to do what Hotch was doing; try to distance himself from the case, think of generic terms rather than names. The victim, the suspect, the crime. He could do this. He was a top profiler with a prestigious team within the FBI; he knew what he was doing.

“Spencer Reid, I was wondering when you’d have the guts to show up,” Thomas laughed as soon as he came in. Spencer didn’t sit, didn’t think he could stand sitting at the same table as this man. Instead, he stood just behind the chair, arms crossed to keep from fidgeting with his hands like he wanted to. “Long time no see, man. It’s been what, four years?”

“Why haven’t you seen your wife in two years, Thomas?” Spencer asked.

“Well, like you guys keep saying, she’s been missing.”

Spencer fought the urge to roll his eyes. “She’s been missing for thirteen months, not twenty-four. The fact that you were found with her baby is enough to arrest you, Thomas. It would be smart to start telling us what you know.”

“If that’s true, then you would’ve arrested me,” Thomas dared, shrugging his shoulders. “It’s not a crime to have a kid, especially when my wife and I have been trying for years.” They hadn’t been, they couldn’t have. Sophie had told Spencer countless times that she wasn’t going to start trying for kids until she was fully settled into her job, when she wasn’t working so many hours to establish herself. “Ohh, I get it now. You’ve been trying to get rid of me since the beginning, you’ve just got a perfect chance now. Well, guess what, Spence , she married me not you.”

“And you abused her,” Spencer shot back, letting his anger show through for just a second before taking a deep breath, trying to school his features back to normal. “Sophie left you in 2009 because she realized that she deserved better. Do you know who she came to? Me, her best friend. You threatened to get rid of her so your precious reputation wouldn’t be harmed, but she gave me all the evidence she had first. We know what you did.” Spencer was bluffing, but he hoped Thomas wouldn’t catch on.

“What do you know, Spencer?” Bennington pressed, leaning forward with a loud clinking of the chains tying him to the table. He leaned on his elbows, smirking as he stared right at Spencer. “Did she tell you about the time she worked for forty-eight hours straight, forgot all about me? When she finally came home, she was on the phone with you ? I had to remind her who she married, any man would’ve done the same.”

He could feel his fists digging into the fabric of his shirt, grateful he’d thought to cross his arms at the start otherwise he’d be lashing out at Thomas. There was so much Spencer wanted to say at that moment. It was Hotch’s voice he could hear in his head then, reminding him of the job he was there to do. Thomas was just goading him, trying to make him angry enough to throw him off his game. He was profiling Thomas and trying to bait any piece of evidence he could out of him. It was clear Bennington didn’t directly take Sophie, but Spencer had no doubt that he was involved. They just had to find the trail.

“Oh, she didn’t tell you about that one? That was the day she left, said she needed to find herself. I knew it was only a matter of time before she came back, broken and ready to be put back in her place.”

“And what was her place, Thomas?”

“Being my wife, making me happy. We were starting a family and I couldn’t have her be a bad influence on our future kids.”

“You’re right, I didn’t like you from the beginning. What you forgot is that I’m a profiler. It’s my job to see through men like you. It’s simple, really. You’re narcissistic and got jealous when your wife seemed happier talking to other men. It didn’t matter that those men were just coworkers at the hospital or a childhood friend, they all were threats to you. It wouldn’t have been a problem if Sophie submitted to your wishes, but she wouldn’t be subservient to you and you hated that. When she wouldn’t break, as you put it, you hired someone to break her for you.”

“You’re reaching, Agent Reid.”

“It’s doctor. We’ve known each other for almost eight years now, you know that,” Spencer shot back. He leaned forward then, pressing his hands on the table to lean against. “What I can’t figure out, is Sophie’s daughter. You seemed confident we wouldn’t be able to track this back to you. You have a rock-solid alibi so there’s no way you could’ve been in the right place to be the father. How could you possibly let another man lay with your wife when you can’t even let her talk on the phone with one?” A pit formed in his stomach at the thought that this was his friend he was speaking about in that way, but the flash of rage behind Bennington’s eyes let him know he was on the right track. Spencer couldn’t let up now, not when he was getting somewhere. “Unless you actually have been trying to conceive. At first, you assumed it was her fault, that’s why you let him have her. She needed to learn that that’s what happens when she talks to other men, right, Thomas? This was all another way to put her in her place, but you never expected her to get pregnant.”

“I never let anyone touch my wife!” Thomas shouted, slamming his hands on the table and trying to stand, only sitting when the cuffs limited his movement. “She’s mine!”

“Then whose baby is it, Thomas?”

“I don’t know! That wasn’t supposed to happen!” he shouted, and then the man’s eyes widened as he realized what he’d said. Spencer smirked, actually smirked, and stood back up again. He had the fleeting thought of how much was this case changing him? He’d never spoken like that before, had never been the one to use this technique when interrogating a suspect. It had worked, but Spencer had the feeling this would be the last thing he did on the case for a while. The team had to see how the cracks within him were widening with each additional detail he pulled from this case.

“What was supposed to happen then?”

Thomas bent his head, staring at his fists clenched tightly together on the table before looking back up at Spencer. “Fuck off.”

Spencer narrowed his eyes, already trying to figure out how he could reopen the communication line again. Bennington was shutting down every time the baby was mentioned. That only helped confirm his story, that perhaps the baby really wasn’t a part of the plan. If she hadn’t been, then Thomas had to be scared. Sophie wasn’t supposed to still be around. If he had her taken to avoid evidence of his abuse getting out, and the baby wasn’t a part of the plan, why did he allow them to keep her alive for so long? Unless-

“You have no idea who you sold her to, do you? Someone offered to solve your problem for you, and you didn’t stop to ask questions. You just threw some money at them and abandoned your wife,” Spencer theorized, and from the way Thomas’s face paled, he knew he had it.

“I’m a good Christian man, Spencer. If I knew they would’ve defiled her, tortured her...”

“What would you have rathered they do to her? What other outcome could you have possibly expected?” Spencer knew already, of course, but he needed the man to say it, needed him to admit that he’d wanted to kill Spencer’s best friend. When Thomas didn’t answer, Spencer threatened, “If you don’t give me a better explanation, then we’ll go to the press right now with what we know. That you sold your wife to a group of people for her to be tortured and sexually assaulted so you could have a child.”

“I wanted her to remember who she belonged to, alright?” Thomas shouted, dropping his head in clear defeat. “They came to me and said that they could teach her to be a perfect wife. All I wanted was for her to realize her true potential, that she could find happiness in being with me. Despite what you may think, I love Sophie.”

“You don’t get to say that, not after everything you put her through. She will never be the same because of you,” Spencer said back, now allowing his voice to fill with all of the hate he felt towards this man.

“I wasn’t hurting her for no reason. I was making her a better woman, I didn’t want her to be the same.” Thomas sighed, staring unblinkingly at his hands. “She wasn’t supposed to remember anything that happened, just that one of the guys she spoke to took her. They weren’t supposed to-”

“What, Thomas?”

“The problem wasn’t supposed to be me. I thought she was already a flawed woman with a broken womb. I told them that after a month if they couldn’t make progress to put a bullet in her,” Thomas admitted.

“You wanted them to kill your wife.” Spencer was in pure disbelief. He knew this was a sick son of a bitch, but he never expected all of this from Thomas. He’d had dinner with the man several times, had stayed in his and Sophie’s house in the early days of their marriage. “You wanted them to take her out behind a shed and dispose of her like a horse with a limp leg.”

“I wanted her to be put out of her misery. I love Sophie, I only want the best for her. I thought she couldn’t bear children.”

“And that was enough to warrant her death,” Spencer continued, making sure he understood Thomas perfectly.

“I had her best interests at heart, Doctor Reid.”

“You may believe that, but a court of law will believe otherwise,” Spencer countered. “Now, we can put you in prison for life with everything we have on you right now. Help us catch the men who did this to Sophie, and we might consider helping you in return. We can get you protection there, solitary. You know what happens to men like you in prison.”

“I don’t know much about them.”

“Try,” Spencer ordered. “Describe the person you spoke to initially. Who did you plan this with?”

Thomas sighed, shrugging his shoulders and looking up to the ceiling for a moment before looking back at Spencer. “I don’t know his name, I never met him in person. He goes by Themis online.”

“How did you get the baby?” Spencer asked, something not sitting right in his chest about Thomas’s previous statement. He began to search through his mind for the name, feeling a hint of recognition, but he couldn’t stray too far from the present moment. The baby would be the key to all of this. It was the unplanned part, the accident. Thomas likely told the unsub that Sophie was infertile, so after the time was up the unsub thought he was safe to use her.

“It was sitting on my doorstep when I came home from work. Had a note pinned to the blanket she was in, all it said was ‘you’re welcome.’ As if I ever wanted a bastard child.”

“When?”

“I don’t know, recently.”

“I need better than that. You know the day you got her.”

“November 5th.” Sophie was found the night before, wandering the streets in the Minnesota winter. “I believe in life, Spencer. The girl wasn’t mine, but I couldn’t just get rid of an innocent life. I was going to raise her to be a good daughter.”

“That’s all I need,” Spencer concluded, moving to exit the room but not before spitting one last, “I hope you’re a popular man in prison, Thomas.” He had no doubt what that last statement meant, and it made his skin crawl in a way few unsubs managed to.

When he met back up with Hotch and Morgan, Spencer made sure not to make eye contact, knowing they would be profiling him despite everyone’s claims that they don’t do that to each other.  “That put us more behind than when we started.”

“It got Bennington arrested. It lets us know we’re looking for a man who does this professionally. We have helpful information, kid,” Morgan tried to comfort him, “We’re building a profile.”

“No, it’s more than that. Themis is a Greek titan. She’s the titan of law and order. This was also organized, paid for and planned. We’re looking at an entire team of professionals,” Spencer explained, “Everything about our preliminary profile was wrong. We don’t have any leads on this team except what Sophie knows, and she’s not talking.”

“This is bigger than we thought,” Hotch added, echoing Spencer’s thoughts exactly. With a case like this, their team may officially be in over their heads.

NOVEMBER 25, 1999

This was the day Sophie looked forward to all year. The girl was awake by five in the morning, already dressed up and sprinting down the stairs. Pure joy filled her, made her hands shake a little from the anticipation of the day. There weren’t too many times that her whole family was actually home, but they made it a point to care about Thanksgiving. No matter what, her parents were home and even her sister was traveling from Stanford to spend the long weekend with them.

“Well, good morning to you, Beansprout,” her dad called from the dining table as she flew by. Sophie rushed to a stop, heeled booties clacking a little on the wood floor as she hurried.

“Hi, Dad. How was San Francisco?” she asked, smiling brightly at him.

Even he seemed surprised by it, raising one eyebrow over his mug of coffee. “You don’t care about my business trips. Sophie Madeline, what’s going on with you?”

“It’s Thanksgiving,” Sophie pointed out, “it’s my favorite holiday, is all.” It was the only holiday they were always guaranteed to spend as a family. Even Christmas she usually spent alone these days, ever since her sister started spending them with her boyfriend from Stanford.

“Well, your mother is prepping to cook. She’ll appreciate your help as usual.”

“Of course,” Sophie answered, practically bouncing into the kitchen to help her mom.

It wasn’t until eight that Spencer finally came downstairs, and seemed immediately startled that Sophie’s parents were there. He’d met them only a handful of times since moving here in June, and even then it had been more fleeting moments as her parents grabbed food before closing themselves back into their office.

“What’s going on?” he asked Sophie as he entered the kitchen, rubbing the sleep from his eyes and beginning his morning coffee routine.

“It’s Thanksgiving, silly,” she answered, slipping the messed apron off of her body as the prep was done for now. “The whole family is here for dinner. Even Clemence is coming with her boyfriend Alex.”

“You’re gonna love it, I promise, Spencer. Mom, Clem and I cook, and Dad usually goes outside to toss a football around with Alex,” Sophie explained quickly, a bright smile never once leaving her face, “And then we all have the big meal together and have pie, and then we curl up on the couch and watch movies until we pass out from all the turkey.”

“Spencer, what does your family normally do for Thanksgiving?” her mom asked, turning around from where she was finishing up the first round of dishes.

“ Mom ,” Sophie immediately groaned, having a feeling she knew the answer already. She’d briefly explained Spencer’s situation to them, but of course, her mom wouldn’t remember.

At least Spencer seemed to take it in stride. He shrugged a little, curling his hands around his coffee mug protectively. “Thanksgiving isn’t a major celebration for us. If it was a good day, my mom and I would get Chinese takeout. If not, then I would use the day to get some extra studying done.”

“That sounds lovely, Spencer,” Sophie’s mom answered, but it was clear from the look in her eyes that she didn’t believe a single word that came out of her mouth. That was the trouble with her parents sometimes; they were well-off and seemed to be judgemental sometimes about people who weren’t. They would never vocalize it for fear of breaking proper etiquette and manners, but they’d make it clear enough how they felt.

“Anyway, I thought you and I could go play catch so you’re ready in case you want to join Dad and Alex,” Sophie offered. She hadn’t, but at least it would keep her parents far from him for the moment.

Spencer agreed, so Sophie scooped up the ball from where it was propped up against the bottom of the kitchen island. As they passed the living room, her dad let out a wild laugh. “My Sophie is gonna go throw a football? Good luck, Spencer.”

“Yeah, yeah, you’re hilarious. I bet you were a comedian in another life,” Sophie shot back, though the light smile that accompanied her eye roll clued everyone into the fact she was joking.

“And you definitely weren’t an athlete. Not like your sister anyway.” The next eye roll from Sophie was a real one. She sighed, ending the conversation without a reply and instead making her way out to the backyard.

The pair set themselves up not too far away so they could still talk. Sophie threw the football only for Spencer to fumble with it, eventually dropping it. She did the same when he threw it back, but it didn’t matter to either of them that they weren’t any good at it.

“They talk about your sister a lot,” Spencer pointed out.

“Yeah, they got it perfect the first time with Clemence. She’s going to Stanford for law, and she has the most perfect boyfriend and the perfect friends. They love me, don’t get me wrong, but I can’t measure up to Clem,” Sophie explained. “You’re lucky you don’t have any siblings.”

“I don’t know,” Spencer answered, wincing as his throw went wildly to the left of Sophie and making her chase it down. “I like the idea of having someone that you know you can always lean on for support, no matter what. It’s guaranteed you’d never be lonely growing up because you’ll always have your sister around.”

“That’s true. I hadn’t thought about it like that,” Sophie responded honestly, once again feeling a little spoiled in her life. She knew it was different, that she couldn’t compare because everyone had their own struggles, but it could be hard to really believe that sometimes.

“Speaking of family, though. Over winter break, I need to go back home to Las Vegas. Now that I’m eighteen, I...” Spencer started to explain, cradling the football between his hands and staring at it as he seemed to reconsider his words. “I don’t want to go alone. Would you want to go with me?”

“Yeah, yeah of course I will, Spence,” Sophie answered automatically, already thinking of how much fun a trip to Vegas would be with her closest friend. “Will I get to meet your mom?”

“Most likely. It’s been a while since I’ve been home, and I need to check on her.”

Sophie was about to ask further about it when the french doors leading to the backyard opened and bright voices filled the space. “Soph-a-Loaf! It’s been so long,” the chirpy voice of her sister called. The older woman rushed over and wrapped her up in a tight hug, the whole situation overwhelming her for a second until she caught up to what was going on.

“Hey, Clem. How’s Stanford been?”

“Ugh, don’t get me started. If it weren’t for Alex I would’ve dropped out twelve times by now.”

“I sincerely doubt that,” Sophie laughed, “Where is he anyway?”

“Oh, he’s already talking whiskey with Dad. You know, I’m starting to think he likes my boyfriend more than he likes me,” Clemence joked before her eyes drifted over to the boy standing awkwardly just behind Sophie. Her eyes widened and a wide grin spread across her face. “Sophie, you didn’t tell me you had a boyfriend.”

Sophie was sure her face must’ve been boiling from the heat that rose in her cheeks. She could already picture how red her face must be. A quick glance to Spencer showed he was as startled as she was, lips parted a little in surprise and hazel eyes wide. “Oh, no no no, we’re not, this isn’t, he’s not my-” Sophie forced herself to take a breath so she didn’t keep tripping over her words. “This is Spencer. He’s my best friend, he’s staying with us while he goes to CalTech.”

“CalTech? That’s impressive. How old are you, Spencer?” Sophie could already see the protectiveness leaking into her older sister’s voice. She winced, realizing she should’ve explained the situation better because now Clem probably thinks Spencer is older and trying to take advantage of her or something.

“Eighteen. I graduated early,” he explained, in a voice that let Sophie know he was far too used to explaining this.

“Oh, well it’s nice to meet you, ‘best friend’ Spencer.” The physical air quotes Clemence made caused Sophie to literally facepalm, knowing she’d have to explain this later.

“It’s not air quotes best friend. It’s just best friend,” Sophie tried, but the conspiratorial look on her sister’s face never faded.

“Uh-huh, I get it, Sophie. You don’t have to explain it to me. You’re living with a super cute guy who’s supposedly your best friend? I get it.”

“No, clearly you don’t get it because there is no supposedly in there,” Sophie tried again, feeling the embarrassment flooding her whole body. She took another glance at Spencer, who seemed more amused by the situation than anything else now that the attention was off of him. She tried to signal for help from him, but he just smiled in a way that said she was on her own. Oh, she would be getting back at him for this.

“No right, I completely understand, Sophie. You know, it’s totally normal at your age to be confused and scared by your emotions and-”

“Clem.”

“Soph.”

Sophie had never been so relieved to hear her mother call out, “Sophie, Clemence, it’s time to help in the kitchen. Spencer, you’re welcome to cook with us or keep throwing the football around with William and Alex.”

“No, he’s staying out here with us,” Alex demanded lightly as he walked out into the backyard. “I need to make sure this guy who’s dating our Sophie is a good one.”

“No one’s dating anyone,” Sophie groaned, head tilting back in frustration, but she knew it was no use at this point. She turned her head to check on Spencer, and could only sigh and raise one hand, completely over her overbearing family. “Alex, would you please let go of Spencer?” She couldn’t believe she didn’t watch him for one second and he already had an arm lightly around Spencer’s neck and was jokingly messing up his hair much like an older brother might. Alex had been dating her sister since their freshman year of high school, so he was already a fixture in their family. Sophie considered him a brother at this point, too, so she knew he would be protective over her.

“You don’t have to stay out here,” she told Spencer, pointing at him, “it’s warm inside and there’s coffee.” She turned her head, now pointing at Alex. “You, stop it. We’re just friends, you don’t have to do this whole interrogation thing I know you’ve got planned.”

“I’d like to, actually,” Spencer replied, shrugging his shoulders a little. Sophie was surprised he willingly wanted to participate in sports, but wouldn’t question it, “it’s okay.”

“Okay. I’ll be right inside. If Alex bothers you, let me know. I love a good excuse to kick his ass,” Sophie teased, sending a taunting smirk at the older man.

“Oh, you’ve done it now, Bishop,” Alex growled, laughing as he ran over and scooped her up, tossing her easily over his shoulder. She smacked at his back but it didn’t matter.

“Let me go! Clem, your boyfriend’s bullying me! Spence, help me!” she whined, crossing her arms against his back and huffing when she couldn’t free herself.

“I think you got yourself into this one, Soph,” Spencer answered, earning a loud ‘whoop’ from Alex.

“I like this kid! You need to keep him around, Sophie,” Alex cheered.

“Alright, kids, that’s enough. If you want dinner at a decent time I need Sophie in the kitchen now,” their mother laughed from the backdoor, prompting Alex to finally return Sophie’s feet to solid ground. She stuck her tongue out at him then gave Spencer a bright smile before running into the kitchen. Cooking was always a passion of hers, so she threw herself headfirst into the work. Still, she couldn’t help but peer out of the large window in the kitchen to check on Spencer every so often. It wasn’t that she didn’t trust he could fit in, but rather she knew he struggled sometimes to vocalize his emotions so feared if he was uncomfortable, he wouldn’t say anything.

“I know that look,” Clemence pointed out as Sophie returned her focus to the dishes she was washing. The sink was positioned just beneath the window, giving her the perfect chance to check the backyard. All she had seen was her dad and Alex throwing a football back and forth, Spencer not participating but clearly engaged in the conversation. She couldn’t help but smile when his head tilted back in clear laughter.

At first ready to snap at her sister for teasing her once again, Sophie gripped the bowl in her hand a little tighter as she considered the statement. Clemence hadn’t said it with a smirk, but instead was looking at her with what could only be fondness. “I don’t know what you mean,” Sophie admitted, absentmindedly scrubbing at the already clean bowl.

“It’s okay if you don’t,” Clemence continued, drying the dishes Sophie had set aside for her, “but I think you do. You’re the smartest person I know, Soph.” The sentiment caused Sophie’s head to snap up, bowl momentarily forgotten as her mind processed what was said. This was her perfect sister, admitting that she was smart? “Hey, what’s that?”

“What’s what?” Sophie surprised herself with how small her voice seemed. Clemence reached over, hands coming to rest on Sophie’s shoulders and the young woman tried not to cringe at the tiny bits of dishwater getting on her shirt.

“Don’t you ever think of yourself as anything less than the best in the room. Life is not gonna be kind to you. You wanna know my secret? That’s it. You walk into the room and you are the best at what you do. If you believe anything else then they’re gonna try to tear you down.”

It was a lot to take in at once. Clemence’s eyes were sharp, practically staring into her soul. Sophie knew the law field was still heavily male-dominated, but she’d always assumed Clemence never cared about what people thought, never worried about anything like that. Now she understood, saw that Clem had to fight for that feeling every day. Sophie would have to do the same, but it seemed to daunting. “I-, thanks, Clem.” There was so much more to say, so many questions to ask, but that would have to be enough for now.

They were silent for a few more minutes, enough for the sisters to finish the dishes and take a break sitting at the kitchen island. Sophie had begun to think Clemence forgot about the conversation when the older woman brought it up again out of the blue.

“In middle school, I looked the same way at Alex. He was a friend of a friend, and we were starting to hang out more. I had the biggest crush on him but no one could know. I realized a couple of years ago why I never said anything, waiting for him to ask me out.”

“Why?”

“Because I didn’t think I was worthy of his attention, his love. I waited for him to validate me, because if he was asking me out then that meant I had to be worthy of it,” Clemence admitted, looking up then to face Sophie. “You guys may really just be friends, but all I’m saying is if you do feel that way about him, nothing is ever going to happen until you admit you’re worthy of him.”

This time, Sophie really couldn’t speak. No words were needed though, both sisters understanding each other thoroughly for the first time in years.

[irenedubrovna]

A post regarding Euphoria for the benefit of myself and basically no one else

So, it really bothers me when people say Euphoria is groundbreaking, progressive media. Here’s a dissection of why I don’t think it is, because this is what I feel like doing at work:

The character of Rue is objectively great. She by far receives the least overt sexualization, and is treated neutrally in terms of active sexuality. She’s treated like a normal teenage girl with mental issues and an addiction to drugs. She falls in love with a girl who she pines for and places on a pedestal. The reason I think she is written this way is because she is a Sam Levinson proxy. She written with gender ambiguity and with little regard to the experiences she’d go through as a black gay female, probably because Sam Levinson has no insight to that aspect of life. Her performance is heightened of course by Zendaya, who breathes unique life to the Sam Levinson’s artistic extension, and without her performance this show would not get even half the acclaim it gets. Attribute that to Zendaya of course, because the director has done little to deserve this acclaim.

The rest of the females, sans Lexi, are pornified to a disgusting extent, not only due to the fact that they are supposed to be underage, but also because their existence as people is treated as being absolutely secondary to their sexual appeal. They are foremost presented in terms of their relation to sex. Cassie, Maddy, Jules, and Kat cannot be removed from their sexuality without disrupting the plot or their journeys in relation to the plot. Why are the females so intrinsically linked to uber fetishized versions of female sexuality, or uber fetishized versions of blossoming female sexual identity?

Maddy is presented not only scantily clad 90 percent of the time, but also dressed in a precariously unattainable sexual fashion. At any given time she is styled to look straight out of, simultaneously, a high fashion editorial, and a “barely legal” porno. She is airheaded and profane, and promiscuous, her mannerisms dictated by the adult films she’s “studied” in order to project an image of perfect hyper sexual femininity. She’s complacent in becoming a prototypical housewife because it will earn her a comfortable place as a trophy wife. She has no aspirations beyond that. So, let’s unpack all of that. Maddy’s role in the show is mostly passive. The most active thing she does in the plot is revenge fuck a man in the pool of a party. Nearly everything else she does in the show that is plot relevant is of someone else’s volition. Even less of what she in the show is related to anything other than a man. She is abused and then pressured into framing another man for said abuse. She has no agency as a character. The only notable difference to this rule is when she takes drugs at a carnival, knocks a pot of chili over, and calls her ex’s mom a cunt. Removed from her active sexual life and carefully cultivated aesthetic, she’s a trite stereotype of an unambitious girlfriend who gets treated poorly. I see people call Maddy iconic, but if she wasn’t gorgeous and well dressed, I doubt anyone would even think twice about her, let alone create fancams and Instagram pages dedicated to her. She exists as a plot device, and as pretty set dressing to build up the shows aesthetic. Her emotions are not well explored, her motivations are sexist, and she is often there to be demeaned, objectified, or to say a bad word. The most damning part of her involvement in this show is her episode where it is stated that she, as a fourteen year old girl, lost her virginity to an adult man, and it is stated she was in control of the situation. This is a dangerous thing to say about a character, to any audience, but especially a young one. To imply that a precocious young girl was in control during her first sexual encounter with a much much older man implies things that frankly border on rape apologist ideology. This show states this unflinchingly and with no further elaboration. If there’s one thing that tells you that Euphoria is a bad show, let it be that. Also, if there’s one thing that tells you about Sam Levinson as a person, and the way he views girls and women, let it fucking be that.

Jules is a young trans girl. She also likes to have sex with men as a means to “conquer femininity”. Scratch that, she likes to have degrading sex with older men in order to “conquer femininity”. This mindset is shown to be toxic, of course, but I think the problem with this idea in general is that there’s no deeper exploration for what this mindset means. It implies that she believes women are the sum of their intrigue and degradations. This mindset I can only assume would be a cultivation of dysphoria and internalized misogyny, which this series is absolutely not prepared to address in a tactful manner. Jules is a teenager with mental illness, trauma, and is undergoing an identity crisis. There’s something powerful in her character, something worth saying, however we only get trimmings of those meaningful things, and are ultimately left with a hurtful depiction of a trans girl because all of her musings on womanhood and identity are incomplete, and they fail to reach beyond the surface of their thesis statement. She wears colorful clothing, is overtly feminine and artistic in her presentation. Everything about her screams insecurity over her own womanhood. That is the crux of her character. Now, I think we should ask ourselves, is trans person who is insecure about their identity peak representation? Is this what trans people deserve? Is it “groundbreaking “? If this show was run by someone else, I might be inclined to say that there’s nothing insidious about this, but this is the guy that made Assassination Nation, so I think we know what he thinks of young women, the way they should be portrayed (that is, for the capitulation of a man) and realize his inclusion of a trans woman in his cast is no more meaningful than the inclusion of any other woman. Women to him are made to be categorized and should, at the end of the day, be easily palatable for the capitulation of a man. The device of having Jules being interested in older men and rough sex for identity reasons is transparent. Trans women are exploited and objectified with a similar fervor to cis women, the caveat being that they are “a forbidden fruit” of sorts to straight men. Jules is sissified, her presentation fetishistic. Her role in the plot is more involved. Her relationship with Rue is sweet, though toxic on both sides. She is ultimately betrayed, blackmailed, and snowballs into something of a manic episode, all well portrayed by Hunter Schafer, but I don’t think her inclusion in the show absolves it of any of its many sins.

Let’s talk about Cassie. Cassie is the Eurocentric beauty standard exemplified. She is the blonde haired blue eyed girl next store, and her boobs are of course always on display. She is notably promiscuous, something I say right off the bat because that’s how she’s introduced, as a so called slut through the words of the devil (Nate Jacobs). She is a girl with daddy issues, which we are all familiar with at this point. Her sexual boundaries begin and end at the whim of her partner. The terms of her consent are much like the terms of consent of many young girls brainwashed by society and the rising tide of degradation porn: everything is alright as long as you provide them comfort and affirmation afterward. You can touch them roughly without asking, you can use them as a tool to affirm your masculinity. This is the way men prefer their women now: just broken enough to say yes to anything they want. It’s become a joke at this point. Men like girls with issues, but only the ones that will feed their own desires. Cassie Howard is meek. Her inclusion in the plot I suppose ties to themes of drug addiction and how it divides and destroys the people you love. It doesn’t show what it does to her beyond shaping her sexual encounters, which is no surprise. Overall I’d say Cassie is in this roster of females as the most traditional categorically, in relation to how men view women and further how they sexualize them. She has a relationship with someone who doesn’t really love her. That mostly what she does here. Gets used. Doesn’t drive the plot or conflict much. More pretty set dressing. More aesthetics. How this show consists of so many women but is driven so much by men is unsurprising, and, again, very enlightening in the grand scheme of things.

Lastly we touch on Kat. I’d like to begin with the fact that self actualization through sexual exploration, in a show run by a man, is just a cloak for a woman to gratify the audience with her sexuality. Regardless of whether or not she is plus sized, this is overt objectification. She is on this show to be sexy. Beyond that, the fact that a minor using sex work as a form of liberation is disgusting. Whether or not she is portrayed as “owning” her sexuality is negligible, and speaks to the same mindset discussed with Maddy. Minors cannot fucking consent to sex, sexual acts, or anything within the confines of such. It’s crazy that this occurs with two different characters in such a similar way. It has echoes of “Well, she looked older..” and “Well, she wanted it..” or “She’s advanced for her age”. Never, not once in the events of the series is there meaningful introspection on what doing this kind of thing does to a minor. Moreover, these acts are explicit, and made clearly for sexual gratification. None of these things are absolved by the fact that she’s plus sized. If anything, her body type is fetishized in this context. It’s also another case of a “good girl to bad girl” transformation, which are archaic and, of course, sexist. With the rise of adult websites targeting minors for explicit content, this is even more reprehensible. Once again, in terms of representation, is this really what speaks to you as progressive? Groundbreaking? A girl gains control of her own narrative by having sex with lots of men. She gains control by being sexy. She gains control by dehumanizing and objectifying herself. No she doesn’t. Media controlled by men will tell this story to you thousands of times, don’t listen because she’s bigger than a size four.

ALL OF THESE CHARACTERS ARE UNDERAGE. ALL OF THEM HAVE EXPLICIT SEX SCENES, EVEN THE SEXUAL ASSAULT IS MADE CINEMATICALLY PORNIFIED. THESE SHOTS ARE MADE TO BE OBJECTIVELY SEXY. THIS IS NOT A CASE OF SOMEONE CREATING SOMETHING FOR THE SAKE OF REALISM. IT IS ABOUT MAKING SCENES THAT SPEAK TO A MALE AUDIENCE. THAT CATER TO THE MALE GAZE. ARGUE WITH THE WALL.

I won’t go further into the plot, other characters, or the structure or the episodes for sake of brevity, but I felt compelled to air my thoughts on this to the void. I can only hope I was critical enough that Sam Levinson will one day see this and cry because another bad feminist thinks something that he made sucks

[darkholme]

if you ever decide to make a house of m explanation post…… i would be v interested. Bc while I consider myself pretty well informed on 616, and 100% agree w your opinion about shutting people up abt house of m, I’d rely rly love to see what you have to say

i don't think i have anything really ground breaking to say about HoM since this event came out over 15 years ago - what it did to the x-men, what it did to the avengers, to pietro's character, to wanda's character, plus all of the ableism and misogyny there, etc, etc, have been extensively covered by others, and i would really just be regurgitating those talking points again. i also don't have a huge desire to reread HoM to dig for panels to back up what i'm talking about so i'm sorry this response ended up very text heavy.

the main point i was trying to get at is that HoM is not about wanda. it's using her and her reality warping powers as a vehicle to create a new status quo for the marvel universe going forward: a different avengers roster and a little less than 200 of the mutant population left. she isn't even in most of the series! it's wolverine who is the pov character for a majority of the issues. i've seen many people talk about HoM as if this is wanda's "big moment", when it absolutely is not. its the entire super hero population coming to murder her, and her family, that has been through so much heartbreak already, trying to do what they can to save her. wanda didn't rewrite reality "just because" which was another thing my post was about.

Big Event Comics will sell. big super hero fights will sell. character deaths will sell. it's similar to civil war in that regard, which came shortly after HoM, where it didn't have much to say about the questions it was bringing up, and kind of ends as more of a way to make bucky the new captain america for a few years, tony the new director of shield for even less, and for the spider-marriage to be dissolved. as of 2022, only the spider-marriage is still undone.

the consequences of the decimation have also now finally (FINALLY) been laid to rest with the new krakoa era's resurrection protocols for the mutants, and even wanda herself creating the waiting room at the end of trial of magneto with the help of legion and proteus. and before that, wanda with phoenix force powered hope summers restored the mutant population in AvX. and even before THAT, wanda alone began to restore the x-gene in mutants with her powers back in children's crusade. so its completely ludicrous to pretend like ToM was the first she had "made up" for the decimation.

and, honestly, no one really likes HoM! there are a number of good comics or runs for the x-men post-decimation, but i've never met someone who actually reads comics and says that they like HoM and most of what came after for the mutants. so its insane to me to see mcu stans who read (skimmed) a wikipedia page, and apparently even the people working for disney/marvel studios, completely misinterpret what this event is: a way to dwindle down the mutant population and create new stories from that. (never mind the legacy virus and the destruction of genosha that had very recently happened at that point, but whatever, marvel. whatever!)

house of m is not a story arc like dark phoenix or the winter soldier. house of m is an event comic. people not understanding the difference is the problem. one is more character driven and one is more sales driven. an event comic is to create a new status quo and is not always written with characters' integrity in mind. it is a way to get from point A to point B while using whatever characters writers/editorial need to get there even if it doesn't completely make sense or compromises their integrity (see both civil wars). a majority of the comics that follow up on or are even part of The Event Comic are trying to get back to that initial point A status quo. stan lee called this the illusion of change. it just took a little longer in this instance to get back to that initial larger mutant population.

there's some potential there for HoM to be more character driven, and to tie it back to prior issues (like wanda's strong reactions to carol danvers leaving the avengers in annual #10 and vol. 3 #7), but that's obviously not how things shook out. i will admit i think there are even a few good scenes in HoM, but unfortunately all of them get drowned out by both the aftermath of the decimation, and the later retcon of the twins not being mutants and not magneto's children.

and a television series or a movie using elements of HoM isn't inherently bad. if they tweaked a lot of things, it could actually be about wanda, her struggles, and her family and actually SAY SOMETHING about the character. but the mcu is an absolute nightmare place and the character in this massive movie/tv franchise is wanda maximoff in name only. i'm certain multiverse of madness will continue to drag her comic counterpart’s name through the mud. there is nothing new or powerful about a selfish white woman not learning anything after holding an entire town hostage and continuing to rip apart reality to get what she wants.

616 wanda is a character i love very dearly, so i feel strongly about what people say about her and how a character using her name will be portrayed in a big blockbuster movie that general audiences who don't read comics will see. 616 wanda is not a villain or a bad person. she isn't! she doesn't deserve all of the bad things that have happened to her. she is good, she is a hero, she has many people who love her both in universe and in the real world, and she does everything she can to make up for any hurt she has caused others. we can move on now, marvel studios.

[girlophelia]

maybe I’m not the best person to answer this since I only mind that sort of language in some contexts. I don’t really care if someone refers to “people with periods” when they’re talking about how menstrual cups are useful or how we should have free period products in public bathrooms— but once the conversation is about an issue that stems from misogyny (like menstrual huts, or women being seen as less capable because of our periods, or roe v wade being overturned) then I think it’s important to use language that makes it clear that this is an issue of misogyny. a good middle ground would be saying “women and others who get periods”, “women and other afab people” to avoid calling trans men etc “women” while still making the misogyny clear.

I was personally frustrated to see a lot of this “people with uteri” language around roe v wade, because that was part of a long tradition of misogyny in the US government and from religious groups, and I’d rather people just say women because 98% of the people who might need an abortion identify as women to begin with, and the government is so indifferent about women’s safety because of misogyny— it’s important to acknowledge that.

most of the examples you gave don’t fall into this category, but when you start using language like “people with a cervix” it can make healthcare less accessible for people who aren’t fluent in English or simply haven’t received good enough sex education to know that they have a cervix— I knew someone who thought for a long time that only some female people have clitorises, for example. and if language like “people with uteri” is incorrectly used to talk about issues that any female people can face (even if they’ve had a hysterectomy) because “people with uteri” is just being used as a stand in for “female people”, that’s also a problem.

sorry this is long-winded. I’m not against this language completely, but I think there are better ways to ensure trans people aren’t constantly having their dysphoria triggered when dealing with healthcare while still making sure we’re not hiding the issue of misogyny or using language that makes healthcare less accessible for others.

A quick query for radfems:

If you insist on biological essentialism- that women are just adult human females- then what pray tell is so insulting about the terms pregnant people/people who have periods/people with vaginas/people who can get pregnant?

Is that or is that not also the essential pieces of this “adult human female” biology you’re so bent out of shape about?

[gulfportofficial]

Not to go on and on but another thing that drives me up the fucking wall about the “lol I hate kids” contingent is how disgustingly misogynistic and sexualized it is. I for real, no fooling, not a word of a lie about it, engaged in a conversation who wrote “lol way to post a photo of your wrecked vagina” on a picture of someone’s child this week. That’s just a disgusting thing to say, no fucking excuses, and I’d like to think anyone would agree. But of course the person doubled down, and with a number of concerned allies, noted that calling them out on it was, of course, ableist of me. 

Additionally, I have had it QueerSplained to me many times that horrible, sexist, way-too-sexual language about children and their mothers (NEVER their fathers), such as “imagine being proud that someone creamed in you” etc, is a reaction to the heteronormative expectation that women and some also-targeted others are good for nothing but baring offspring and the pressure to do just that. I do not need that explanation because I am goddamned middle-aged and have heard of feminism before, but I also resent it as a lesbian who was for good while physically disabled. The pressure that one MUST have kids takes on a different inflection when people don’t want someone “like you” being a parent. 

I for one can report that the pressure from those around me changed quite dramatically once I came out, and then when I began to seem less physically able. It’s also been a feature of the LGBT history that I am aware of, as well as the disability history, that many people in both those communities have been stripped of their reproductive capabilities and/or custody of their existing children by force because of their status. There is a long and ugly history of sterilising disabled people in care services. There are many cases of lesbians being found to be unfit mothers to their children because, and only because, they were lesbians. 

It is not Cool and Woke and Extra Queer to hate children and the people who have them. Many people are still harmed in the exact ways I described. They’re in fact still pressing queer and disability rights issues. For example, currently, many people who transition must give up their reproductive capabilities in order to legally change their gender markers. This is doubly true for people in racialized populations, for whom forced sterilization, and a violent over-interest from state services, has an ugly and ongoing history. It is still shockingly unsafe for black women of any demographic to give birth in the USA, entirely because of the racist disdain with which their lives and rights to be parents are treated.   

This is not to say that it’s unreasonable to be angry about the expectation that being a women or assumed to be one means you must have children, obviously, or that one must have children to be a woman. They are misogynist expectations (and like all misogyny, transphobic too). We should be angry about them! But the constant assertion that young children, uniquely, are somehow reminders of sex (newsflashdennisreynolds.jpg, all humans are products of sex!) and that the people who have them are somehow dumb, annoying, or dupes, is just fucking gross. It is thoughtless, it is sexist, it is racist, it is trans- and homophobic, it is ableist, and it is cruel. The language used - the “mombie”, shit “crotch dropping”, “fuck trophy”, “keeping cum as a pet”, not to mention “breeder”, which is incredibly fucking racist specifically - makes that cruelty pretty plain.  I didn’t even mention class here but it’s pretty obvious why I could, I’m sure. Just fucking shut up with your “lol what a gross cum pet” you disgusting fucking assholes.  

-- ETA: I know that some of the people who say this shit are kids themselves and will grow out of it. I had all kinds of shitty opinions as a youth. But I don’t think it does them any harm to know the flipside of it, and more than that I’m not really in contact with a lot of youths with whom I swap political takes. I much more see this from Hip Queers of my own age or similar. And vegans for some reason. No diss to the many cool vegans of the world but boy do vegan groups come up with some galaxy brain shit. My opening example was in fact from a vegan recipe group. 

[doberbutts]

I’m willing to bet the “doesn’t believe misogyny is real” thing is strictly because trans men and trans mascs keep saying “we are negatively affected by misogyny both before and after coming out” considering I’ve literally had people argue with me that by saying I experienced misogyny prior to being read as a man and still do in the present when I do not pass, I’m “implying that trans women don’t”. When my thing has pretty much always been “you cannot compare ‘oppositional’ transition journeys on a 1-to-1 basis because we are all schroedinger’s gender in the eyes of transphobes and thus are whatever gender in that exact moment they feel would hurt us most”. Meaning just because I say “I, as a trans man, experience misogyny” does not mean I inherently think the direct opposite is true that trans women don’t experience misogyny and yet those words have continuously been put in my mouth.

I’d also say it’s also probably stemming from the critique of labelling things male privilege when men struggle with many of the same issues with a slightly different hat, such as suicide and sexual assault. And the dissatisfaction with the idea that misogyny is the end-all of oppression, such as the wage gap discussion where women do indeed sometimes make more money than men due to other points of oppression, which must be discussed with an intersectional lens.

Not that they don’t exist, but I have yet to see any trans masc discussing these talking points saying anything remotely like “misogyny doesn’t exist” or “patriarchy isn’t real”. I have seen them say things like “this discussion inherently excludes the some of the people it affects” and “please stop calling abortion/menstruation/pregnancy a woman’s rights issue when trans mascs are literally right here” and “I lived for several years/decades as a girl and being treated as a man has not really improved much outside of the very superficial”.

Similarly the “you guys aren’t talking about any systemic issues” is either a blatant lie or a deliberate misunderstanding or these folks genuinely don’t believe trans mascs have any systemic problems and refuse to listen to us when we point them out. We say “trans men are forcibly impregnated as a means of detransitioning” and “trans men who have legally transitioned or are on HRT have to detransition in order to access pregnancy care and/or abortions” and it’s either ignored or we’re accused of rubbing it in trans women’s faces that we can get pregnant. And I wish that was a strawman, I really do, but it’s why more than one trans masc who was talking about this stuff has left tumblr, because it literally happened to them after being raped and when they were trying to discuss it they were told they were “gloating” that they could get pregnant and trans women can’t. I literally watched this shit happen in real time over the past couple years.

Someone posted that he had to go through the process of changing his gender marker back to F just so his insurance would cover a pap smear, you know, the thing that checks to see if you have the exact cancer that killed Robert Eads, a trans man in a T4T relationship with his trans woman partner. Someone else posted how he had to argue with a pharmacist to access Plan B. A third miscarried and was told everything was all good via the insurance and then was hit with a several thousand dollar bill because insurance decided people with M genders don’t get covered. All three were accused of silencing trans women by talking about their experiences.

We are talking about misogyny. We are talking about systemic issues. People just aren’t listening to us. Whether because what we have to say threatens their worldview, or because they’ve decided independently that we’re bad narrators of our own experiences.

its honestly wild, when you sit with it, that people are trying to beat and criminalize trans people out of existence. and folks are genuinely like wait a minute everyone!!! we need to debate the exact right word for when people want trans men dead. IF it even happens🙄. like if ur in a fight do u stop to look around for a specific model of knife with the perfect weight and shape thats appropriately sharpened or do you grab whatevers available and get to work

[theoriginalcarnivorousmuffin]

Opinions on Molly Weasley????

You know, I actually don’t think I’m too far out in left field for her. Well, I might be strange in that we tend to see very polarized opinions on Molly: either she’s the greatest mother who ever mothered and the Weasleys are a perfect family or she’s an overbearing manipulative matriarch who’s secretly poisoning Harry with love potions into marrying her daughter.

Sort of like Ron, I wouldn’t say Molly’s a saint, but she’s also not one of the truly nasty characters (she’s not eating babies or feeding Harry love potions or anything). That said, she is far from the warm, generous, matriarch JKR presented her as.

First, she is overbearing . There’s nothing wrong with this, it’s just how her and Arthur’s dynamic works, but at the same time if Arthur ever did have a spine it’s been completely conditioned out of him. It’s also very telling that Ron marries the overbearing equivalent of his mother in Hermione Granger. I suspect Ron’s spine has also completely disappeared by the time we hit that delightful epilogue from canon. 

As for the Weasleys, JKR sets them up to be the perfect family we can possibly (realistically) imagine. It’s huge, they all love each other and are fiercely loyal (except for Percy, the swine, we’ll get into this), they give Harry a sweater, it’s the family he wants so desperately that he marries the only available and socially acceptable option: Ginny (I could go on a rant about this for days, but guys, Harry shows way more interest in men than in women and I think 90% or Ginny’s attraction to him is that she’s a Weasley). 

That said the Weasleys, and Molly herself, have major issues. 

One, the money. I think JKR makes them poor to give contrast to the Malfoys. The Weasleys are nobly impoverished, they’re a wizarding family but understand more important things than money. The snobby Malfoys on the other hand have peacocks in their yard because rich people are inherently evil.  

That said, most of this is because Arthur and Molly completely mismanage finances. There’s nothing wrong with having seven children, but the Weasleys clearly cannot afford to have seven children. More, we see them spend money instantly when they have it. Ron is left without a wand for a year but the second Arthur wins the lottery, rather than save the money, WE’RE GOING TO EGYPT. Even the year before, money that might have gone towards emergency situations such as: my son’s wand broke is used to take Molly, Arthur, and Ginny to Egypt. They buy tickets to the Quidditch World Cup. The Weasleys don’t have that kind of money and then they go and are extremely bitter that Lucius Malfoy does have that kind of money. Yes, I’m sure the Malfoys were always wealthier than the Weasleys, but at the same time the Weasleys are the type to buy iphones for their kids when they’re on food stamps.

I’m getting a little distracted though, back to Molly.

I’d say Molly is far more traditional than JKR ever intended for her to be. She’s progressive enough that she supports muggleborns (they should get to go to Hogwarts and be very appreciative) but she also doesn’t think they should get too far ahead of themselves (we’ll get into this). She’s a raging misogynist (we’ll get into this). She is extremely judgmental and can flip on you at the drop of a hat with the barest of evidence. She never really does anything about Harry’s situation despite having very good evidence of its realities. And despite her family’s extreme poverty, even when all the kids are in boarding school, we don’t see her try to take up a job or even take up some etsy equivalent where she can enchant shit and sell it. There’s nothing wrong with staying home to raise the kids, but at the same time, I think for Molly it’s because “this is what the wife does”. 

Right, well, that actually was a lot.

Let’s start with Harry. Molly is witness to seven years of Harry’s childhood abuse and seems to take no action regarding it. Now, Fred and George are dubious sources, so them telling Molly that “hey Harry’s house had bars on his window” might not be taken seriously. Harry also is generally very private and embarrassed about his home life. That said, there are many many signs, and while Hermione practically lives at the Burrow ever since third or fourth year Harry has to spend every single summer with the Dursleys even before Voldemort’s return.

Granted, I have gone over that I don’t think child protection or even a good understanding of abuse exists in the Wizarding World. I think to wizards you’re stuck with the family you’ve got, and if your pureblood grandfather is raping you then it sucks to be you. That said, the Weasleys are such a central part of Harry’s life that I would expected them to do *something*. Instead it’s like Harry’s situation is... vaguely acknowledged but mostly ignored. 

Now, the Weasleys don’t have the money for an eighth kid (though Harry’s so absurdly wealthy he could help lighten the load were he to live with them) so I don’t hold this too much against them but... I would hope that a truly good family would have noticed Harry’s situation and tried to do something about it.

Right, the judgement part. The Weasley family’s unofficial disowning of Percy was horrible. This is going to be controversial, but Percy actually made some excellent points. Dumbledore and Harry’s story about Voldemort’s resurrection does sound nuts, the guy’s been dead ten years, he isn’t Jesus. More, it comes from Harry Potter who is young, traumatized, and has generally been erratic throughout the time Percy’s known him. And parts of what he says aren’t wrong. Why do the Weasley’s worship Dumbledore and listen to everything this man says? Dumbledore does do things like recruit child soldiers from the boarding school he runs. Dumbledore’s a shady guy. 

Mostly though, while Percy not believing Harry and Dumbledore is bad, I always got the feeling that a lot of the resentment and disowning was that Percy dared to do better than his father. Percy rises through the ranks quickly in the ministry, he’s extremely competent, where his father has been stuck in the same dead end joke of a job for years. Arthur even accuses Percy of having his position because Fudge is spying on Arthur. Which... no, Arthur, no. And the family just loathes him for it. They loathe him and it’s terrible. 

And I’m sure Dumbledore meanwhile is just dying that they’ve forced Percy out when Percy was in the perfect position to be a spy in the Ministry. I can just picture him drinking with Snape after Molly’s told him, tears in her eyes, that Percy is cut off because he betrayed the family, wondering what kind of morons are in the Order. 

Beyond Percy there’s what Molly does to Hermione in 4th year. And good god, this is also where the misogyny comes in. Rita Skeeter writes that Hermione, a fourteen-year-old girl, is a harlot and Molly not only a) believes it but b) becomes extremely judgmental of Hermione and essentially calls her a jezebel to her face. Molly, what the hell? Hermione’s life has been ruined by the tabloids for something that didn’t happen, and even if it did is nothing she should be slandered for, and Molly’s going “THAT WHORE”.

This is after Skeeter had slandered Arthur just that summer over the Quidditch World Cup incident and Molly hadn’t believed any of it for a second. So, either Hermione’s being a girl or her being an uppity muggleborn or both somehow makes this believable...

Molly’s very similar with Fleur. She doesn’t approve and I always got the feeling it was in part because Fleur is not the traditional sort of woman she’d want Bill to marry (Fleur is a working woman at Gringotts and more is elegant refined beauty rather than a girl next door who’d make a great housewife) but also because Fleur’s foreign. Bill should marry a nice, English, woman and instead he ends up with this French quarter-veela. 

Had Harry done anything to offend Molly, or even if Dumbledore had simply gone “You know what, Harry’s awful, we hate him”, then I would expect he too would have been completely cut off and thrown back into the gutter where he belongs.

So, Molly sucks and is not nearly as progressive as JKR intended, but is she feeding Harry love potions to marry Ginny and make the family wealthy? No.