#Claiming their success is all nepotism

[lyricailove]

These Roman and Cody takes are funny. Cause the two of them never hated each other or had actual beef. It was all made up by fans on both sides who hate the other. Becky said they hugged each other after Mania. There's been mutual respect the whole time.

[nobodysuspectsthebutterfly]

how do you feel about j*nsas stealing and appropriating your theory Frankenstein style? I know I’d be pissed but on the other hand it’s funny because it’s still their strongest “argument” haha

It makes me laugh, honestly. Especially the way many shippers -- who have evidently never read The Hedge Knight -- place so much importance on the Ashford Tourney, the Ashford fair maid, and the Targaryen champion! Like, Lord's Ashford's daughter is so significant, she doesn't even have a name. And the whole thing with Valarr Targaryen was that he was a pretty awful jouster, and only held onto the position as the fair maid's champion out of nepotism, because nobody good actually challenged him. (Though his cousin Aerion threatened to, before deciding to bully someone else.)

And the most significant point, that Valarr didn't come out of nowhere, defeat all the other champions, and crown the girl queen of love and beauty -- lol, not in the slightest, he was a champion from the start, and the way the tourney was set up was that at the end of the third day, whoever were the final five champions would either choose to keep Ashford's daughter as the QOLAB or select somebody else to be. And either way, that never happened, since during the first night Dunk and Aerion had their altercation, Dunk never saw who any of the champions were on the second day because he was in prison, and the third day the fair maid/champion tourney was canceled and they held his Trial of Seven instead. There was no queen of love and beauty at the end of the story!

Like, this tourney does not compare in significance to, say, the Tourney of Harrenhal. Historically, the fair maid means nothing, the Ashford Tourney is only remembered for the Trial of Seven that ended with Baelor's death. And I only happened to think it was a bit of a funny coincidence that four of the first day's champions matched Sansa's suitors (that's how you know it was taken from me despite claims of independent creation, it was known as "the Fifth Suitor theory") and thought it might be an even more funny coincidence if Aegon ended up pursuing Sansa as a bride after (or in the process of) claiming the throne, which was a common bit of speculation in 2012 after Aegon was revealed to be alive (presumably) in 2011's ADWD. And the whole point I had was how futile said champions were in the face of Dunk's actions, and well, *cough*.

But it was always just a crack theory, a silly coincidence. That they've imbued it with such significance, well, um. Good for them I guess. It's certainly less worse than pointing to Sansa Stark daughter of Rickon and her half-uncle Jonnel -- when most likely that was a forced marriage to steal an inheritance like the uncles of Alys Karstark attempted with her, and Jonnel had no children with either Sansa or his second wife, died, and two successive brothers became Lord of Winterfell before the youngest had any children to succeed him. That is not a historical model you want to follow, I'm sorry.

BTW, this post of mine also getting appropriated by jonsas also makes me laugh (2 for 2 lol my god), because the point of that parallel was that Jon is indeed a hero from the songs -- since again, in 2011 immediately post-ADWD there was a fandom reaction pushing Aegon up as the actual PTWP and such. (Well. The ones who didn't decide Victarion was Azor Ahai lol sigh.) And that Sansa's words were the foreshadowing ones, I thought was significant, again in response to fandom decreeing her unimportant. It was not to make Jon specifically Sansa's hero or lover or anything where is that implied I have no idea oh shippers oh fandom sigh sigh sigh 😂😅

[dk-ghostmachines]

i gotta talk about FourDogs

I really do. 'Cause I posted a lil' passive-aggressive hot take a few days ago, but this is Tumblr not TikTok. Here we can have our 60-second hot takes and eat our long essays too. Kipperlilly Copperkettle was introduced as a rival in episode 3, after which there were a number of posts criticizing The Bad Kids' response to her, labeling it disproportionately mean at best and bullying at worst. I think that's an unfair reading of that interaction and I'm gonna talk about why.

Now, I'll be the first to admit that it's parasocial as fuck over here and The Bad Kids are my personal best friends actually, so where necessary I'll do my best to separate the ((loyalist ride-or-die-bad-boys-for-lyfe emotional reactions)) from the actual points I'm trying to make.

((That being said, the fuck was FourDogs talking about? Y'know? Like what was she on about, for real?))

Here's what's true: over the course of their time at Aguefort, three adults directly related to The Bad Kids - Jawbone, Gorthalax, and Gilear - have been instated as faculty or staff. And if I'm a third-party, especially another student, then for sure. It's giving nepotism, it's giving cronyism, and I'm drinking my Haterade about it every morning. But favoritism is about treatment. It's about actions, rewards, benefits - and ma'am, if you're gonna levy a charge like that, I'm afraid you're gonna need receipts!

What actual benefits have The Bad Kids received from the school that is not available to other students? In freshman and sophomore year, The Bad Kids get detention like anybody else, they don't make it on the Bloodrush team, Gorgug in particular was always not doing great in Barbarian class, they take their midterms, they have to complete the big 60%-of-the-grade spring break project, etc. And now this year, Fig is getting punished for not going to class, Kristen is getting consequences specific to being a kid with ADHD who doesn't live at home anymore, Gorgug's still getting the literal opposite of favoritism from Porter, and Riz, Adaine, and Fabian are all getting the treatment from professors that is proportional for historically successful students in good academic standing.

((And someone else brought this up but, re:that 60%-of-the-grade project, miss ma'am, what were you doing in the Far Haven Woods?? In addition to saving the world again, The Bad Kids endured borderline psychological torture for their final grade, while the Buttcrushers got to step on bugs in the neutral zone??? But they're the privileged ones, no, for sure))

Whether or not saving the world is as big a deal in-universe as it would be in our real world is up for debate. Brennan said it was an outstanding feat in the scope of student adventuring at Aguefort to consistently complete Class B and C quests, but then, when TBK comes back from Hot Yorb Summer everyone acts like they went on a class trip to Six Flags. Either way, unearned success is the wiiiiiildest claim to lay at the feet of consistent world-savers.

Freshmen year it was the Helioic Fundamentalist Apocalypse and the Emperor of the Red Wastes. Sophomore year it was the Nightmare King and the Night Yorb. They've saved the whole school, they've saved specific students at the school. They My Little Pony-ed Ragh, one of the biggest actual bullies Aguefort had, and then Fabian killed toxic masculinity! Even if the favoritism was in the room with us, would it not be the natural result of all this hero shit??? Aguefort hasn't done The Bad Kids any favors he wouldn't do for the rest of the student body, but even if he had I'd get it because KRISTEN APPLEBEES SNUCK HIM INTO HEAVEN AND THEN BROUGHT HIS ASS BACK TO LIFE.

Again, maybe not remarkable in a world where Revivify is just a thing you can learn, but y'know! Shit!! Diamonds aren't free!!

Also FourDogs' whole tone of disdain for the "eccentricity" of Arthur Aguefort's administrative decisions truly boggles the mind, because we found out in freshmen year that he has some kind of mass Power Word over the government of Solace that allows the students of his school to do crimes, AND in sophomore year he has that auto-call-ex-machina that students can evoke when they're in danger overseas. His "eccentricity" is the reason the school can function at all, put some respect on man's name.

Now, let's get word-perfect.

That's the American Psychological Association.

And that's StopBullying.gov, which is managed by the Department of Health and Human Services.

Here's what's true. At moment 00:00 of their relationship, Kristen said something pretty freakin' mean to Kipperlilly for an audience of her friends with like, no provocation.

Kipperlily then revealed that she has based her entire campaign around addressing the perceived privilege that "some students" have under Arthur Aguefort's rules. And THEN, Jawbone revealed that Kipperlilly had been snooping around asking questions about Kristen's relationships with her god and trying to get general dirt on The Bad Kids. BUT WAIT THERE'S MORE, in the preview for episode 6, we get Murph's line of "Kipperlilly's team is trying to get us kicked out of school".

Does that excuse the thing Kristen said ((yes it was hilarious)), no. Not at all. She didn't know that stuff, Kipperlilly just failed a vibe check. In the moment though, that's all it was. The Bad Kids met someone they didn't like and perceived as a threat, and Kipperlilly had something mean said to her by people she already didn't like and already wants to see brought down. While she was not threatening them in that moment, Kipperlilly is a threat. She's not a victim, she is an equal with opposing goals. And now that Ruben has the song of the summer, The Buttcrushers are probably just as popular as The Bad Kids. There is no greater imbalance, they're just adversaries.

Ultimately, Kipperlilly's got them fucked up. But she's a kid. Kids are allowed to get shit fucked up and misdirect their anger at systemic unfairness. TBK are also kids and well within their rights to feel what they felt when Four Dogs walked up with self-righteous vibes and started yappin about academic privilege in what is already the most academically stressful year of their lives.

As the audience, we not only know all the shit TBK has gone through that Kipperlilly does not, we also are aware of how Brennan is introducing her in the story. As soon as he brings her into the scene, you know what's up. The voice he gives her, the tone, the actual things he's saying - if you watch everyone's face after the line about favoritism gets dropped it's the culmination of the whole interaction. Oh, she's our enemy, like our specific enemy and her team is coming for us, specifically.

So what do we gain from ignoring all that? From ignoring the JUICE of this rivalry and flattening it into "the bad kids were mean :/". I actually love Kipperlilly, the rivalry is giving and I love feeling big emotions and getting to use angry, feral, fandom language. FourDogs, can't wait to see you next week, and I can't wait to read the 40k word, FourDogsxKristen, enemies-to-lovers fics. And y'know, shout out to all the people who kin her because she found the rogue teacher, it's pretty goated, I won't lie.

But also. Bad Kids Supremacy. Buttcrushers, stay mad.

[anitabighug]

❥ A Perfect Experiment : Wally x Reader (She/Her Pronouns, Named) ✿

Chapter Masterpost: [  ♡   ♡    ♡ ]

Chapter Five; Can’t Help Falling in Love ( A/N: This chapter has a lot of music involved with it! If you’d like to listen along, click the [♫] SONG NAME - ARTIST as you see them! ) ●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・● The four of you arrive in the square, and go your separate ways. Barnaby, who had carried Wally limply under his arm all the way over for some reason, dragged the boy over to the snack table to start the party up straight away. Howdy had his work cut out for him, that was for sure. You and Poppy scooch over to an empty table, and are quickly met by Julie, hiding her intentions with another pot of flowers that she sets up next to your record player. “Did you bring the goods, Buttercup?” She asks in a hushed tone, pupils darting from side to side. “Buttercup?” You raise your eyebrow, and Poppy pulls the cable out of your hand to start plugging things in. “Its your code name!!! I thought of ‘em myself. You’re Buttercup, Poppy is Pigeon, Sally,” She points across the field where Sally is, running an extension cord from Home to plug in the lights, “Is Honey, and I’m the Captain!” She shoves a thumb against her chest proudly. “Why do we need code names?” You settle into one of the folding chairs, and rest your head on your hands, peering up Julie. Your eyebrow remains cocked. “Every successful mission has code names. Scientific fact.” Julie waggled her eyebrows at you oh-so charmingly. Well, you can’t argue with that logic. You lift the record up from its resting spot, and Julie squeals, grabbing it from your hands and spinning. “There he is!!! The King Himself! This is going to be PERFECT!” She hands it back to you, bouncing up and down vigorously. Elvis’ face gives you a suave smile from the record sleeve where he rests, and you nod. Excellent choice. “Now!! Here's the plan.” Julie slaps a crudely drawn crayon map onto the table, pulling the two of you in close… ●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・● Julie’s plan had you DJing the event, to wait for her signal. This was more than fine with you, you loved your record collection and were beyond psyched to show it off. Besides, you could dance just as well from the comfort and privacy of your chair. The sun had just set, and with a nod and a flourish, Frank had lit his project ablaze. It turned out to be an intricate bonfire, and it lit up the clearing beautifully, well worth his hard work. The beats from your speakers bounced around your neighbours, their booties shaking wildly. Phase one; Lull them into a false sense of security. It takes a boatload of willpower to keep the malicious smile off of your face. Something about this secret agent mission thrilled you, though you would never admit it. You’d gone home earlier briefly to change into something more party-appropriate, as had everyone else, it seemed. Your party outfit was based on extensive testing and focus groups, discussed amongst groups of experts, and had 100% chance of making you look ‘Just cute as a button!’ according to the top expert, Julie. By ‘extensive testing’, you of course mean that it won third place in the fashion show that you, Julie and Sally had put on in the comfort of your home. You’d claim nepotism, but the way the girls had looked at each other, it was obvious that they’d already tied long before you’d even moved to Home. The dress itself was pastel pink, some sort of pleather, tighter than you’d like, with a tall white collar and no sleeves. What it lacked in sleeves though, it made up for in a big poofy skirt, pink with a white underskirt as well. You paired it with a white belt, a pair of go-go boots that Julie had gifted you, and a bow sitting off to the side of your short hair, feathered back for the occasion. Just perfect, you concluded, and perfectly matched to your classy, fashionable friends!!! Sally’s outfit was out of this world. She had glitzy striped pants with frills going down the side, and the poofiest blouse you’d ever seen. Next to her, dragging Frank on to the dance floor, was Julie. She was absolutely dolled up, taking every advantage that this party gave her. You didn’t think her hair could get bigger before, but seeing it curled up into a beehive proved you wrong. No amount of science would be able to figure out how she got it to stay in place with all that crazy dancing. Frank had barely changed up his own outfit, merely opting to swap out his dress shirt with one with shorter sleeves for the heat, and leaving his bowtie at home– you weren’t sure what you preferred! You watched as Julie popped his collar, causing the two girls to start to giggle madly. Poppy’s usual shawl had been switched with one made of a beautiful lace, and the pearl necklace she’d included added that touch of grace and maturity you expected from her. Howdy had a short-sleeved dress shirt on, burgundy with little white flowers on it, and you had to admit he looked so charming with his hair slicked back like that. Barnaby might’ve been your favourite of all of them, you took one look at the vest he was wearing and wheezed out a laugh. It was the EXACT same as his usual vest, but with layered frills for days. It was probably to match Wally’s outfit, an expertly starched white dress shirt, and striped pants with the same layered frills on the ends of the legs. They looked adorable apart, but together it was almost too much for you! That left Eddie Dear, who had apparently only left to finish his evening rounds for the mail, returning a little shocked to find that everyone else had dressed up so fancy. Julie had a solution, however, discarding his cap and bag and setting a flower crown on his head. He looked absolutely delighted by it. [♫] Jailhouse Rock - Elvis Presley “Well don’t you just look cute as a button,” You almost couldn’t hear Wally’s suave tones over the music, but the compliment made you light up. “Th-thank you, Mr. Darling!!! I was a little worried I’d never get the chance to wear something like this,” You admitted with a laugh. He settled in next to you, and set a plate of snacks down beside the record player, “Ha ha ha. Who would’ve thought a little spit and polish would make everyone so happy?” He wondered aloud, “I thought you could use some company. You looked awfully lonely over here.” “Who could be lonely when they’ve got the king around?” You ask with a cheery laugh before lifting and taking a bite of one of the sandwiches he’d brought, following it with an appreciative ‘Mmm!’. Wally started looking around, checking behind your chair and frantically checking behind the two of you. It takes a few moments before you realise he’s looking for the King, and you nearly choke on your bite when it comes to you.

You manage to swallow it, and reach over, lifting up the record sleeve and pointing at the picture on the cover. Realisation floods the puppet’s face, followed swiftly by a blush across his cheeks. How cute… You hand him the sleeve to examine further, returning your attention to the sandwich he’d so kindly brought for you. Wally checks the sleeve over thoroughly, making sure that this ‘king’ wasn’t some strange intruder he had to be wary of. When he was satisfied of the lack of sentience, he finally took a good look at Elvis himself. He sure had excellent taste in hair, that was for sure. It was weird, though… Why was there a big lipgloss mark on The King’s cheek? You seemed to be so protective of your record collection… He felt a weird feeling shoot through his heart, and shoved it along with the record sleeve away, turning his focus on the rainbow monster that had scurried to the tableside. “Are you ready for phase two, Buttercup?” She asked, slamming a hand on to the table. The record skipped, and it only took one sour look from you to get her to apologise, giving the record player a gentle pat. “Ready and waiting, Captain!” You give her a lazy salute, and are given a determined nod from her before she hurries back to her station. You hear another monotone laugh from beside you, and peer back towards Wally. “Buttercup?” “... Its my code name,” Your cheeks feel red hot, and you reach up instinctively to cover them. He laughs again, and you swear you hear him mumble ‘Adorable.’... But that just can’t be right. Ugh, you can’t afford to be distracted now, no matter how sweet his compliments were!!! You take in a deep breath, and take note of where everyone is on the dance floor. It was time for phase two. Group one had Honey and the Captain herding the target to the center of the dance floor; distracting him with hijinks and pranks and lightening his usual dour mood. They were right on track, and you make a mental note to compliment them on their excellent espionage. Group two was doing even better! Pigeon had lured the bait into the perfect spot, the two of them bounding to the beat almost next to the bonfire, and Howdy gave you a nod from where he stood, ready to swoop in. “Just.. A second… More…” You mumble to yourself, your trigger happy hand sitting above the needle. You’d know where to move on the record even if you were blind and deaf; the trap was only the most beautiful song that the King had made, and you’d get this to go off without a hitch. You’d promised her, after all. Wally squints at you, and only just manages to start asking you what on earth you’re up to when you see it; the signal. Frank’s back is turned to you, and Julie gives you a spastic wave. Not the most subtle, but y’know, it worked. The record scratches. The music stops. Everyone stops dead in their tracks. The Bait and the Target look around with concerned expressions, and Howdy dives from his hiding spot. [♫] Can’t help falling in love - Elvis Presley The music starts back up. The piano is soft. Dancers pair up as if it was planned– even though it totally wasn’t, you swear. Sally grabs Julie, squeezing her girlfriend close and leaving Frank floundering. Poppy is scooped by Howdy in a very, very subtle move that leaves Eddie flushed. You’re on the edge of your seat, squeezing the tablecloth anxiously in your hands. Eddie seems to realise whats happened first, and with a nervous laugh, he turns to Frank, offering a hand. But… Frank hesitates. Your heart stops, and without thinking, you’re gripping Wally’s shirt and sinking back in your chair. Oh, you didn’t think of this happening. What if he blows it? What if he gets mad? Oh, you can’t watch. But you also can’t look away. You feel Wally’s other hand rest on your head, not petting or rubbing, but just resting. Even that kind gesture couldn’t pull you from this train wreck. “OOPS!” Julie to the rescue! She shoves Frank hard with her hip, the puppet stumbling forwards into Eddie’s arms. Yes!! The whole neighbourhood watches with baited breath. Eddie laughs heartily, and takes that as a yes, starting to move backwards to get Frank back on his feet, and leading him in the dance. You can’t contain your excited wiggle. Yes! Mission accomplished!! Julie and Sally each shoot you a wink, and you give them two big thumbs up. Wally is practically in stitches next to you, and wipes a tear from his eye,

“Is this what her big plan was?” He asked, peering over at you quizzically. You laugh, and nod in response. Wally scooches his chair closer to listen as you explain the plan quietly to him. You lean a little closer to him, your arms brushing against each other as you watch the fruits of your labour. The two of them look to be having a serious conversation under their breaths, both with blush tinged cheeks, and tiny smiles across their faces. Absolutely flawless. You take in a deep, calming breath. Wally smells like apples, naturally, along with distinct undertones of… licorice? Haha, weird. It suits him, strangely enough. You wonder briefly what you smell like. Probably latex gloves? How disappointing. You wish that there was a nice smell that late nights at the observatory could give you, aside from graphite and notebook pages. “Weird,” You mumble under your breath, eliciting a questioning noise from Wally. “Oh. Well, the lights can make it hard to see the stars, but… Ah, it must be a new moon. Silly me.” Wally stiffens next to you, but you don’t have time to question it before you’re scooped up unwillingly into another puppets arms. [♫] A Big Hunk O’ Love - Elvis Presley “C’mere, you!” Barnaby sets you gingerly on one of his arms, lifting you out to the dance floor and the giggles erupt from you, no matter how hard you’re trying to hold them back with the nervous hands over your face. “You didn’t think you’d get to just sit there all night, did’ja??? Time to boogie!” His laugh was deep and you could feel it through his arm, him not even bothering to put you down before he started shaking his booty to the new song. You can’t! It’d be too embarrassing! You can’t see them, but there are definitely eyes on you. No… Noooo! The boogie, alas, was too infectious for your weak heart, and you felt the wiggles overtake you in Barnaby’s arms. Your shoulder dance seems to be the secret key to him putting you down, and he gives you courage in the form of a hand held and a big grin on his face. Can’t say no to that face, or the king’s bouncy tones, for very long at all. Before you realise what's happening, you’re swinging to the music, and the idea of embarrassing yourself has floated somewhere into the upper atmosphere. Maybe you’d find that fear again one night while stargazing, floating through the stars where no one can hear it. ●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・● Wally relaxes through the next few songs, leaning back in his folding chair and taking the occasional unseen bite from the remaining sandwich on the plate. Barnaby was right, of course, he was going to be sore in the morning. Maybe for a few mornings after that, too. Something about the reckless abandon with which you took to the dance floor, though… He couldn’t take his eyes off it for more than a moment. You look so, SO unbelievably silly. Like you’d practiced these spastic wiggles a million times before. He leaned forwards, setting his head dreamily in his hands. Ha ha ha… Was that an air guitar he saw? “Absolutely… Adorable.” He drolls, and his brain takes a quick halt. Adorable. It wasn’t the first time he’d said this about you, not even tonight. And it's not like he didn’t compliment his other friends… A pang shook through his chest, and he clutched the front of his shirt… No, something about this was different… And something about your questioning gaze earlier… This was oh, so dangerous for him. So why hadn’t he stopped you yet? There were countless ways, methods he’d used before, methods he’d use again… Maybe you just needed… More distraction. Right; that was the problem. Well, that much he could do without arousing too much suspicion. He unbuttoned his top button, and smoothed his perfect hair, and stood up. If there was one thing Wally Darling could do, it was dance. With a pop of his collar, he strode on, ready to show these kids a thing or two. ●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・● [♫] Devil in Disguise - Elvis Presley You’d been tossed between a few eager partners at this point, including but not limited to: A dance with Julie in which you’d mostly just shook your hair, a brief exchange with Eddie Dear, who’d thanked you under his breath while staring across at a certain someone, and a wild dance with Poppy who shook her feathers in ways you hadn’t even imagined before. This latest one was graced with Howdy, and you’d made a comment about how you needed to run an experiment to see if your hypothesis was correct; more limbs DEFINITELY made for more fun in a dance partner! You had him almost completely hysterical when something stole his attention away. Apparently it was someone cutting in, and you’re shocked when one of your arms is pulled upwards, giving you a spin and a dip. Wally Darling grins down at you, and you melt in an instant. Whoa. He gives one of his slow, droning laughs and pulls you back up, leading you with both of your arms now, swaying you quickly back and forth with the bouncing melody. It was as if he was shaped perfectly by the gods to swing it to Elvis. He switches from a slower portion of the song, swaying back and forth with you, to effortlessly spinning you out and then back in, your hand landing smack dab in the middle of his chest. You felt like your brain was going to pop. He lands the finishing blow perfectly, and as the song ends, he bonks his forehead against your own, staring in to your eyes briefly before stepping back. He pats you on the shoulder and moves on to his next victim; leaving you standing there as if nothing had ever happened. Your hands fly up to hide your red hot face. Uuuugh! You deserve a good sit down after that. (A/N: I was asked to tag @elegantkidfansoul with the update! If you’d also like to be tagged, feel free to let me know! ^v^ This update was a little long, but it was so fun to write eeee!!!)

[canonsinthehead]

Naruto Modern AU/Hollywood pt.4 - The Perfect Older Brother: Itachi Uchiha.

Itachi Uchiha is an actor. Not any actor, but an A-list one who has a background in finance studies and whose career path changed overnight After a movie director suggested a role at an art auction his family attended. Fugaku accepted on his son’s behalf without a second thought (With dollar bills in mind). Regardless of having zero experience in this field, Itachi thought "Why not?" and accepted the offer.

The relatively cheap production romance movie ended up being a box office success, and a blueprint in the Roman genre. Itachi received many acclamations and prizes as a new actor for his performance. His genuinely stellar actor skills help him beat the “nepotism helped me” allegations (even if it did). He filled his catalog further with diverse rules and started making a name for himself.

His fan base grew fast and worldwide. He always had a confirmed reputation for being super nice to fans at fan meetings and treating his staff nicely. The Public and many leaders in the industry fell in love with his effortless handsome looks.  Strangely, he gained a great reputation as a host/MC for various shows and awards ceremonies. His fanbase stretched across all large nations, and they all liked him for different reasons.

Konoha: his romance, movies, skills as an MC, being a Uchiha (and the status attached to it), his clean style, and social media presence

Iwagakure: when he acts in action movies (a lot of them are filmed there), the one-sided beef Deidara has with him and features in a lot of commercials.

Kumogakure: a huge portion of his fans are from Kumo. ironically, he is known for his effortless humor and features in many celebrity variety shows.

(yep, a Blackpink reference...)

After a guest appearance at Kumo’s most popular program, Killer Bee’s Showtime, there was a running gag at some point exposing how terrible of a dancer he is after losing in a challenge.

Sunagakure: appeared in many perfumes’ commercials, and many of his movies have been translated into the native language.

Itachi has never been on the press’s bad side. He often attends his relatives' or friends' events. For the sake of his little brother’s peace, he did not show support publicly to Sasuke for a long time.

It has been established that he and Kisame Are good friends. On top of being an avid basketball fan, Itachi is a regular front-roll attendee at those events.

Nobody’s perfect, hence why the conspiracy theorist and podcast bro Mizuki has been on Itachi’s neck since the dawn of time to relatively no success since only a small niche of individuals believe him.

The strongest podcast by Mizuki has been spreading the weirdest conspiracy theories known to man along with questionable ideologies. His show appeals to a certain demographic of men worldwide and it pays his bills. Recently, he has been calling anybody and everybody gay. It is part of. Mizuki’s routine at this point and Itachi did not escape those false accusations. There is a theory circulating on the dark side of the web stating that Itachi is a secret homosexual along with Kisame who is on the DL And is dating Izumi Uchiha to save face (WOW! This is a bold egregious claim!). Nobody outside the small Eco chamber, a.k.a. his fan base believes this theory.

Well, as crazy as it sounds, Mizuki is partially right… (bear with me…)

Itachi is in a 100% consensual agreement with Izumi and uses her as a beard. He is currently dating (and smashing) Juuzo Biwa. Not even Sasuke or Kisame are aware of the truth, it is something he prefers (along with Juuzo) to keep for himself.

BACK TO Part.1 previous part next part

[lilflowerpot]

Considering how hard it is for the galra to have children, what would they consider a legitimate heir? Would the child have to have some of the ruling monarch’s blood, would they have to come from wedlock or could they be from a concubine. Also, would an adopted child be considered a legitimate heir???

I actually covered the bulk of this question when addressing eligibility for the Imperial throne so do give that a gander if you want the detailed answer, but I'll rehash the broad strokes for you as concisely as I can.

To begin with, yes, galra fertility is limited—due to a combination of their species being monestrous, meaning conception is only possible during a limited fertile season, and several complex genetic factors that leave foetal mortality rates at an approximate ratio of 1:3—but when it comes to inheriting the Imperial throne, it's actually not a strict matter of blood.

“In preparation for a change in imperial leadership, we require a viable candidate for the Kral Zera: someone with the right claim—it doesn’t have to be of blood, though that would help—without being too polarising. - Kolivan, Little Blade, chapter 19

Importantly, the Empire isn't a linear monarchy—its Emperors / Empresses are instead decided (as in canon) through rite of combat at the Kral Zera, and eligibility for this, in turn, is dictated by either blood or reputation—so the concept of a "legitimate heir" is a little more fluid than one might think, because the Imperial throne itself is not an inherited right.

Let us first address the topic of blood.

Firstly, there is no being born in or out of wedlock for the galra, because there is no wedlock to begin with—the galra don't really have any concept of marriage at all! The idea of an "illegitimate" child is, therefore, an utterly foreign thing... as is, for that matter, the idea of a concubine, as this comes hand in hand with there being the position of a "legal spouse" on the table. In the Empire, any and all committed romantic partners of the Monarch would be bequeathed the title of Imperial Consort, and none of their children would be considered any more/less legitimate than the others (not for order of birth, or gender, or race, or anything).

Now, to use Lotor as an example, he is obviously Zarkon's biological son, and as such is considered the Empire's "heir presumptive". By humans, this term is used in reference to an heir whose claim may be set aside by the birth of another (more suitable) heir—as in the case of Queen Victoria, who was set only to inherit the English throne from her uncle providing he produced no children of his own—but for the galra it's more an indication that Lotor, as a direct descendant of an Imperial Emperor, automatically qualifies to stand at the Kral Zera, and had he any biological siblings they too would be considered as such (neither above nor below him in status); this is due to the prevalent galra belief that the heart is the cradle of the soul, thus conflating one’s blood with the very essence of their spiritual being, and meaning that to be a blood-descendant of a former monarch would be to possess a little of their quintessence within you.

Regarding the legitimacy of adopted children, neither legally nor socially would they be considered "lesser" members of the Imperial family, however for the galra the concepts of family and blood are two entirely separate issues. A child adopted into the Imperial family would share in all the perks that their blood-born siblings might enjoy, including being invited to serve on the monarch's inner council once of age as representatives of the State, and (thanks to a healthy dose of ✨nepotism✨) would be placed on an accelerated path to success in whatever field their strengths most lay; if the monarch were to be temporarily incapacitated, the adopted children along with their siblings and any/all Imperial consorts would divide the burden of the Empire between them until the monarch was able to take up the mantle once more. Upon the monarch's death, however, an adopted child would not—unlike their blood-born siblings—be automatically eligible to stand at the Kral Zera, as in not sharing the monarch's blood they cannot be considered to share in their quintessence either, therefore their eligibility would instead hinge upon their involvement in higher government and garnered political backing from other prevalent figures (see below).

This brings us neatly to the latter method of eligibility, reputation, for which the candidate in question would be required to:

Earn themself a high enough military rank that their achievements speak to their worth, along with acquiring formal pledges of support from other notable galra who are themselves eligible to stand at the Kral Zera, thus assuring that rather than challenge the individual's claim they will instead will advocate on their behalf to the Archivist.

Be a recognised High Priest(ess) of the Druidic Church, as the druids are known as Sa Naacht—Voidsworn descendants of those who provided themselves to the denizens of Sa as vessels on the mortal plane, long ago—and therefore Sa's approval is innate to their very existence as beings capable of manipulating quintessence.

Be born a member of the aristocracy—though it is practically unheard of that anyone stands at the Kral Zera on this alone, as they can rarely obtain substantial backing from others for merely their familial name and wealth.

But once again, all of this is only to stand at the Kral Zera. Winning can only be done through one's own blood, sweat, and tears, and as with many of the Empire's most sacred traditions, it is built upon the creed of victory, or death.

[fancoloredglasses]

Captain America (Could you stop the film, please? I think I'm going to be sick), part 1

(Thanks to Chas Blankenship)

[All images are owned by Marvel Disney and 21st Century Films MGM. Please don’t sue me]

Oh gods…where to start…

First off, I had previously reviewed a pre-MCU interpretation of Captain America. This film, made over a decade later, was supposed to be a theatrical release in conjunction with the 50th anniversary of the character. Unfortunately, it missed the anniversary by a year…as a direct-to-DVD release (mainly due to reviews being savage). I’ll get to the bad acting and poor writing choices lates, but I want to address on HORRIBLE costuming choice first…

CAPTAIN AMERICA’S COWL HAS RUBBER EARS!

WHY?!?!

Now that I’ve gotten that out of the way…

One of the first issues with the film is casting an inexperienced actor in the title role:

Matt Salinger, son of Catcher In The Rye author JD Salinger. Now, I’m not saying nepotism was involved, but…

Salinger looked the part but lacked the ability to pull off being the center of attention. The writing certainly didn’t help matters either.

Of course, you can’t have a Captain America film without the Red Skull. However, in this film he is not Johann Schmidt, Nazi (and VERY German) zealot who volunteered for the procedure that transformed him. Instead, he is Tadzio de Santis, an Italian boy who was kidnapped after his family was slaughtered by Mussolini’s forces, then subjected to the procedure and brainwashed.

There are one or two names worth mentioning in the cast (neither of the main characters are) that I’ll cover when they’re introduced, but now…on with the show.

If you would like to watch the film, it’s available out YouTube or behind your favorite paywall.

We open in Italy in 1936, 3 years before the start of WW2 (for those who didn’t pay attention in history class) where a young boy is doing a piano recital (with a tape machine recoding it for posterity) in his home when Italian troops break through the window and enter (wouldn’t the front door be easier since you’re destroying property anyway?)  The father objects and is gunned down for his trouble. Mussolini then orders the boy to be taken as his troops slaughter the rest of the family while they make him watch.. Why this particular boy?

Oh sure, that makes sense. Take a prodigy against his will and kill his family. I’m sure he’ll be totally cooperative after that! Besides, the kid is what, thirteen at most? Surely there are genius adults they could recruit, or maybe Mussolini could’ve just appealed to the family’s sense of patriotism and asked for the boy for the good of the country.

 We then switch to an Italian fortress where we have an Italian officer showing a bunch of German officers a film of a rat for some reason, then reveals…

…and this is a good thing???

The Italian claims the rat is much stronger and more intelligent (yeah, but good luck getting it a date in Saturday night!)

We are then introduced to Dr. Vaselli, who created the process (as opposed to Dr. Erskine in the comics, since he’s German and the producers wanted to do this in Italy for some reason), who is appalled that the military is using her process on the bot (you mean she’d be less appalled if they used it on an adult?) so they have her restrained, but she breaks free and flees.

We then fast forward to 1943 (three years after Cap’s comic debut? Wouldn’t it have made more sense to kidnap an older lad and have this be 1940?)

President Roosevelt is being briefed on Project Rebirth, which is Dr. Veselli’s research now in the hands of the Americans.

The President is told that the first volunteer (at least he wasn’t kidnapped?) as a man named Steve Rogers. Should the test be successful, many more will follow.

Out in California (wait, isn’t Steve from Brooklyn? Can’t the writers get ANY details right?) Steve gives a tearful goodbye to his friends and family before Uncle Sam comes to retrieve him.

Steve is then whisked away to a secret lab, where Steve is pumped full of whatever Vaselli’s formula is and electricity until……

(Thanks to Video Club Random)

[QUICK NOTE: Lt. Fleming is played by Bill Mumy, who played Will Robinson on Lost In Space and Lennier on Babylon 5)

With Vaselli dead, Steve Rogers (Code Name: Captain America) is the first and last of America’s super soldiers. Unfortunately, he was critically injured from his gunshot wounds. Col. Louis (Played by Michael Nouri, who played the Love Interest in Flashdance) tells the doctor to patch him up quick because the Axis has a rocket capable of targeting anywhere in the world, including onto US soil, within a week. So no pressure or anything.

As the doctor leaves, Steve forces himself up and wants to know where he’s going in order to stop that rocket.

Within hours, they’re on a plane.

…with Captain America trying out his new fireproof outfit (with his new shield) Once over the area the launch site is supposed to be hidden, Cap parachutes down.

(Thanks to TheMovieDump)

As the rocket speeds toward Washington…

(Thanks again to Video Club Random)

(The boy’s name is Tom Kimball, whose family happened to be visiting Washington. You’ll be hearing about him again in about 50 years)

Later, in Alaska…

…the rocket crashes, but somehow doesn’t explode. Instead, it buries itself in the ice.

Later, when the Kimballs go home to Ohio, young Tom tells the story about the rocket to his best friend, Sam Kolawetz.

Eventually, the war ended and time marched on until 1993 (3 years after this movie was made; again, why not set he WW2 bit in 1940, then have the present be 1990 (which would be Cap's 50th anniversary)) where young Tom Kimball has grown up to become President Thomas Kimball (Played by Ronny Cox, who was Lt. Bogomil in the Beverly Hills Cop franchise and Dick Jones in RoboCop)

He is preparing to travel to Rome for an environmental summit (considering we’re STILL trying to fight climate change, you can guess how successful it will be)

Before he leaves, Kimball meets with General Fleming (who is NOT played by Bill Mumy, but Darren McGevin (who voiced the crime lord Tony Dracon on Gargoyles)), who seems to give Kimball a veiled threat to cancel the summit.

Let’s switch to Italy and a familiar stronghold we last saw 50 years ago.

…where the Red Skull isn’t so red or skull-y anymore (and is sporting a shiny new prosthetic hand so the actor doesn’t have to pretend he doesn’t have one) Skull is holding a summit of his own to oppose Kimball’s environmental agenda. His compatriots want to kill Kimball, but Skull suggest a brain implant to control him instead.

Meanwhile in Alaska, a group of explorers discover.…

OK, if Cap was THAT close to the surface, then there’s no way (a) he’d be frozen enough for suspended animation and (2) it would’ve taken 50 years to discover him!

The explorers cut through the ice and bring the block of Cap-sicle to their base camp. Suddenly the block shatters and…

…Captain America is alive, well, and very fucking confused. He walks out of the tent into the cold (is he trying to become an ice cube again?)

Later, at the White House, Kimball is reading the morning paper…

Kimball pulls out the photo he took of the man on the rocket from 50 years ago to discover it’s the same person (or at least the same outfit) He then calls Sam Kolawetz (now a reporter for the Washington Dispatch…

...played by Ned Beatty, best known for being Lex Luthor’s flunky in Superman and getting sodomized in Deliverance) Sam (because Kolawetz is too hard to consistently spell) starts going on about the legend of the Red Skull and the man in the ice could be a link to the Skull.

Meanwhile in Rome, Skull is making plans for Kimball’s visit. He wants to know where Kimball will be at all times and any dirt his people can dig up on his Secret Service agents. Then he gets the morning paper and sees…

He then tasks his daughter Valentina (wait, you mean someone had a kid with him? Well, that would explain the change in his appearance) to deal with the good Captain.

Later, in the Great White North (What? You can’t expect Cap to get from Alaska to the Lower 48 without going through Canada!) Cap is wandering aimlessly when helicopters (led by Valentina) approach and Sam is driving toward his location. Cap ducks into the woods, so Valentina has the choppers land and she and a couple of goons give chase on motorcycles they just happened to have aboard (why? Couldn’t the choppers be armed and shoot at Cap from the air?) Cap manages to somehow lose all of the goons except Valentina.

(Thanks to Tales From SYL Ranch DARKROOM)

Cute, but there’s no way in hell anyone else would be dumb enough to fall for that.

To be fair to Cap, just a day ago by his reckoning he was in a war against the Germans and the Japanese.

As Cap drives away, he thumbs through Sam’s notebook (after all, he was frozen before it was ill advised to drive while distracted), checking a map to discover he’s in Canada, and drives until he’s out of gas.

Packing up the notebook and disguising himself (good thing Sam had an overcoat that just happened to be Steve's size) he hikes until nightfall, where he finds a truck stop and a trailer that the driver apparently forgot to lock.

…falling asleep next to the Champaign of Canadian Beers as the truck drives through the night, eventually ending up in Steve Rogers’s hometown.

…eventually realizing this isn’t 1943. He finds his girlfriend’s (Bernice) home, but when he approaches the owner (who looks a lot like her)…

She then calls for her mother to call the cops, but…

…her mother’s his old flame (emphasis on old, since it’s been 50 years) and reality finally sets in.

Meanwhile in Italy, Valentina reports failure, but somehow she bugged Sam.

However, all the Skull can think about is her inability to kill Captain America (he shouldn’t be so hard on her. After all, he couldn’t do it either) and sends her away.

Back in Washington, Sam is tracking down the origins of Captain America.

Wait, if that file is Top Secret, how the hell did he get his hands on it?

Sam goes through the file and finds the hometown of Steve Rogers. He immediately calls President Kimball (remember him?) to give him the news (Wouldn’t Kimball have security clearance for that file, being the President and all?)

So naturally, Valentina now has the information and can improve her father’s opinion of her.

Back in California, Bernice' daughter daughter (Sharon) is letting Steve crash until he gets himself caught up. While at Bernice’s place…

…Sam has shown up looking for Steve Rogers. Suddenly he’s shot from behind (nice to see Ned Beatty continues to be cast as the guy who gets shit on)…

…as Valentina storms in looking for Captain America!

At Sharon’s place, Steve is caught up and realizes Sam was telling the truth, and that the Red Skull is still alive. He remembers Vaselli kept a diary that might have Skull’s actual name. Then the phone ring.

We then shift to outside Bernice’s home, where the occupants are being loaded into emergency vehicles and the place has been cordoned off as a crime scene! Sharon’s father is alive despite being shot, but Sam and Bernice…

…refused to talk and paid the price!

The next morning at the hospital, Sharon sits with her father and turns on the TV to comfort him when a Special Report airs.

Well, THAT can’t be good!

Looks like Captain America is taking a trip to Rome (where Kimball was abducted), but first Steve needs Veselli’s diary. Sharon takes Steve to the diner where the lab was hidden. Surprisingly, it hasn’t been converted into a Denny’s yet. Steve goes to the spot where the secret door should be, only it’s a ladies room now.

As management calls the cops, Valentina and her goons arrive at the diner (how did Steve not know he was being tailed?) Steve then finds a space between studs and punches a hole through the drywall to find the secret door into the remains of the lab.

Steve finds the diary as Valentina’s goons arrive at the diner, guns waving. Steve and Sharon hide as Valentina enters the lab. They manage to sneak out while Valentina’s back is turned, but…

What? You didn’t think Valentina would plan for that? Steve uses the darkness to play cat-and-mouse with the goons, making short work of them. They then leave before the cops arrive. Sharon goes through the diary (so she can read Italian?) and while it doesn’t give the Red Skull’s name, it does give the town where he’s from.

So…trip to Italy?

CAN Captain America save the President?

WILL Steve and Sharon become An Item?

WHO the hell thought ANY of this was a good idea?

These questions and more will be answered in the exciting conclusion!

[bonefall]

Do you think it’d be interesting if before Riverstar’s heir, the River Kingdom was still fairly distinct from the other clans? They coexisted and definitely influenced each other, but with Riverstar ruling and remembering old traditions the River kingdom was still a kingdom rather than a clan. Only after the bloody end of that war of succession did the new leader of Riverclan bring the kingdom towards being more clan-like

So interesting that it's exactly what I plan to do!

The River Kingdom was a very old, fascinating thing. Like a remnant of an older time, and its fall into RiverClan really marks the new era y'know?

Its collapse also brings the other Clans into a new time, as well. EVERYONE lives by the code, and by the new Law of the Deputy. It solidifies a lot of little cultural "beliefs" that existed before, but are all now universally adopted by the Five Clans.

Each Clan is truly separate, no Clan has a claim to another Clan. The more I think about it, the more it makes sense that Cloudberry and Ryewhisker's Law of Loyalty is Commandment 4. It was the War of Succession/Second Battle that created the sentiment that was later codified by Ryewhisker's death.

The Cleric is the sacred interpreter of StarClan's will. Though Moth Flight and her children had a connection in terms of prophecies, it's Redscar who makes the choice of RiverClan's leader and is forever remembered as the first Arbiter.

Leadership is not hereditary; nepotism is bad. In Clanmew, the term for nepotism is "blood clotting." This is the moment where it becomes a bad thing for blood family to form political blocks, based on the violence that broke out over their familial claim to the throne.

It also drags ALL of the groups towards what we now know as "Clans." ALL of them were more unique before this event, none of them were the modern idea of a modern Clan before this. SkyClan was the closest, with the stratified leader/deputy concept.

[mrhaitch]

Hello hello Mr.Haitch !! I hope the Haitch household is doing great ^^

So, recently one of my friend’s university is all over the news, because the granddaughter of an insanely popular actor enrolled at that university.

My friend isn’t particularly thrilled about it, because that university has a very difficult entrance exam, but the celebrity’s granddaughter got in without clearing that exam.

The university claims that she has a very impressive portfolio and doesn’t need to clear the exam. But we all know that’s just bs.

So far the university board hasn’t been very subtle about their open bias towards her. Even the staff.

What is your opinion on this? Do you think people coming from influential backgrounds shouldn’t be shown such blatant favoritism? Considering how hard some people tried to get accepted at that university and afford the tuition.

I've got mixed feelings about entrance exams, and assessments in general.

Permit me to dust off my 'education is a public good' Stetson for a moment.

Much better.

Okay - for me it's all down to what you're trying to measure and why. Is the point of the exam for students to gauge the extent of their understanding, for their teachers, for awarding bodies, for future employers? And if so why?

My employer doesn't care that I got top grades in my essays on existentialism and freedom, or that I completely fucked up my exam on the pre-socratics (I objected to a question).

Is it so the university can brag that x number of students achieved a high grade? Is it to assess the quality of the teaching? What if a class' impact is more personal and profound, rather than imparting particular skills that can be measured by conventional assessment?

I know the answer to all of these questions, mostly, but the answers are - to me - unsatisfying. Learning is a lifelong pursuit with milestones, absolutely, but no real defined end. Any end that might be imposed is artificial at best, dishonest at worst. The number of people I've seen waltz into complex, nuanced debates saying "well I studied X at level y" believing it makes them an expert. I also believe the value of education has absolutely nothing to do with employability or transferrable skills (I will hiss at anyone that uses that word near me). Society cannot function without an educated populace, especially its political systems. People can and should be as informed as possible at all times, through whatever methods and by whatever means are most effective for them.

This all applies to entrance exams: it strikes me that it's all about marketing and prestige. Universities want the best students so they can SAY they have the best students, in order to attract more.of the best students. The reasons why fall broadly under, like I said, prestige and marketing - but there's also financial incentives beyond recruitment. Students from affluent backgrounds are, on average, more successful academically - largely as a reflection of the ease with which they can access high quality schooling, tutoring, additional resources, and their parents are likely to be educated as well.

While it might seem like a meritocratic system (if you're smart enough you'll make the cut) but it's another form of elitism and classism, just sneaky and underhanded. Typically this is underlined by the manner of assessment, with a written examination being the standard. That's not to say it's impossible for someone outside of the upper crust to get through, just that the odds are slim. Slim by design.

Anywho.

If it were a perfectly meritocratic system I'd be more upset about people cheating the system, and processes being overridden by nepotism. Instead all they've done is reveal the whole thing is a sham.

For anyone interested in this topic I'd recommend checking out The Tyranny of Merit by Michael Sandel.

[oogalaboogalabich]

Vampire spawn Gale AU concept. Thinkin of making a comic.

Outline 1: Artor Morlin of Waterdeep gets his claws into local Orb Boy.

Gale does The Stupid at a more believable age. Like his late teens. He gets orbed way earlier as a result. He responds with impulsivity and recklessness rather than isolation and it gets him noticed by the local vampire lord.

Gale got caught up with Artor Morlin, who took an interest in his orb, and turned him into a personal experiment to see if undeath would do anything to allow him to harness it vicariously through gale.

He was subjected to several years of only semi non-consentual torture, of being trained into a proper fighter since his magic aggravated the orb and made it harder to contain and feed.

Turns out martial arts does well for calming and lestening the demands of the netherise magic. And he ends up as deft with his hands as he is with his tongue.

Hes best with the bo staff, like in canon. But almost exclusively fights melee. Avoiding magic unless its super nessesary. hes fallen a touch out of practice but his natural propensity is still there, boostin him up like late stage capitalist nepotism.

But as it turns out artor knows a ticking time bomb when he sees one. he cant kill gale without going to some complex and extreme measures to minimize damage.

He cant allow the lad to remain in the city. And he cant exactly have a rogue spawn running about with his name attached to it. And he doesnt allow other full vampires to exist in his city outside of an invitation for a BRIEF visit. His nearly 7 centuries of reasonably successful business accumen was a testament to the necessity of that last rule. What other vampire on the sword coast could claim even half his age?

There was really only one option.

at least the only option that wouldnt make him sad for a while. In the "my pet died" way. and fortunately it left him without any monetary cost worth mentioning.

"Youre...freeing me?"

"No. I am ensuring the survival of my city."

"Truss it up as much as you please master, i could not possibly express better gratitude for your generocity.

"Yes well...youve been a good sport about it all i suppose. You're expensive but," he shuffles a ship across his map a few feet and tips over another. He doesnt remove the downed ship from the board. It was still afloat, out there. Waiting to be pilfered. "You dont cause trouble. More than i can say for the other brats."

(Something something filler filler. Snippy gale comment)

"Careful now, Dekarios. I can still banish you short a limb."

(Filler filler-gale rambles about being glad he got to learn so much under his tutilage. Implies a physical relationship that was eh then he goes entirely off subject about fish or sirens or something entirely off topic. Autism gale autisms at morlin)

Artor blinks and shakes his head, holding up a hand to silence him

"Gods Enough" he didnt look too upset however "i shant miss your gulls screeching, dekarios."

"You understand that when you wake, you are to leave my city. Should you return without my express leave, i will do what my advisors suggested. I will drag you out to sea, sink you with your jaw cracked open, and let the waters eat you from the inside out"

"I understand master."

"Very well. Lets get this over with. Kneel-"

A tentacle bursts through the wall and dekarios vanished. Its over in seconds.

Artor stares at the desolation of his office and pinches his brow as a stray tile falls from celing to floor.

"What are the chances this will all work itself out if i just..." he makes a sweeping/ pushing gesture with his hands.

[leiawritesstories]

Summary: Aelin Galathynius had a hand in just about every illegal dealing in all of Terrasen. Weapons, drugs, organized crime, the black market, blackmail, assassination, coercion, bribery–you name it, she was almost definitely connected to it. The only problem? Nobody could prove it. 

Rowan Whitethorn, fresh out of Terrasen’s elite special forces academy–known only as Doranelle for secrecy–was convinced he could unmask Aelin Galathynius. So convinced, in fact, that he’d managed to obtain special orders from his commander to do just that. The only problem? He had exactly three hundred and sixty-five days. If he couldn’t prove Aelin Galathynius guilty in one year’s time, he’d be booted down to corporal in disgrace. 

Something neither Aelin nor Rowan could have expected, though, was each other. When their paths cross–and oh, their paths will cross–who will come out ahead?

CW: violence, swearing, crime, drugs, death, lots of illegal activities, NSFW

Masterlist

~~~

PROLOGUE: CONCRETE PROOF

Word count: 2.8k

Warnings: swearing, mentions of violence, crime scenes, weapons, drugs, references to homicide

Enjoy!!!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

At precisely eight o’clock a.m. each morning, the polished chrome elevator doors swished open with a ping, and a pair of patent-leather stiletto heels so shiny you could see your reflection in the material clicked with brisk, deadly efficiency across the hardwood flooring of Galathynius, Incorporated. 

Located on the top five floors of one of downtown Orynth’s most prestigious office buildings, the technology company had risen to the top percentile of its field quietly, its success largely thanks to years of hard work by the late Rhoe Galathynius and Evalin Ashryver. Upon their passing, their only daughter–Aelin Ashryver Galathynius–inherited the whole company. 

Less than six months after she took over, Galathynius, Inc. was the uncontested leader of its field, perhaps the head of all the businesses in Orynth, perhaps even in all of Terrasen. Her employees, to a person, were either completely terrified or completely starstruck of her. Aelin took that as a compliment. She’d worked hard to build her image; she wasn’t about to break it for some sniveling intern who couldn’t take a word of criticism. Besides, who ever heard of a crime boss that was all sunshine and rainbows? She had an image to uphold, both professionally and…well, less professionally. 

Better the innocent, unsuspecting employees of Galathynius, Inc. think her an unapproachable CEO than a cold-blooded criminal. 

Galathynius, Inc. was a perfectly legitimate business, despite the foul rumors that claimed it was nothing more than a facade for criminal activity. Aelin snorted every time she read a new theory in the news or the tabloids, each claim somehow more outrageous than the last. In the four years since she’d become CEO, she’d seen them all: nepotism, daddy’s money, buying out the competition, bribery, affairs, selling her body for prestige, and more. She even had a few of the funnier ones tacked to her corkboard, blocky headlines about “GALATHYNIUS CEO CAUGHT AFTER MESSY NIGHT OUT!!!” paired with grainy, badly edited photos that were obviously not her making her laugh each time she saw them. 

Aelin kept her personal office on the top floor, a floor reserved specifically for her and her board of trustees, all of whom were close associates in both businesses. She had a work office on the floor below and used that for all the mundane workday things–endless meetings, strategy sessions, presentations, and the like–but her top-floor office was her personal one. The only people who came to see her there were Elide, Lysandra, Ansel, and anyone she needed to…impress. 

There was a reason that the boss’s office had tile flooring.

As always, Aelin stepped into Galathynius, Inc’s offices at precisely eight o’clock, her five-inch stiletto heels clicking over the hardwood flooring. She was greeted, as usual, with a ripple of “good morning, ma’am” and other similar greetings from her employees, and she offered her usual small nod as she strode to the private elevator at the back of the office, ascending to the second floor for the Monday morning planning meeting. 

“Talk to me,” she commanded, sweeping through the sliding glass doors of the conference room. Elide, the chief of operations, nodded, tipping her head at the director of marketing, who stood up and tapped on her tablet, projecting the quarter’s projections onto the screen. 

“We’re completely on track for this quarter, expected to turn a profit at…” 

Aelin mostly tuned out the woman’s monologue, focusing on the numbers on the screen and the few details she picked out that sounded most important or interesting. “And the Cortland acquisition?” 

“The Cortlands and their attorney will be meeting you tomorrow at eleven to finalize the terms of the merger,” Ansel replied. The redhead was Aelin’s attorney, and a kickass one at that. 

“Excellent.” Aelin stood. “Thank you, everyone.” She strode out, got back into the elevator, and went up to her work office, leaving a trail of huge-eyed employees in her wake. They tended to get that look whenever she passed close by. 

After confirming that her schedule for the day was clear, Aelin picked up her dark brown leather briefcase and walked across the hall into the upper-level meeting room, a much smaller space that was used mostly for random storage. All the better for her to conceal the top-floor access door there. She slipped behind a row of file cabinets, touched a button on the remote hidden in her pocket, and pressed her thumb to the small black screen that slid out of its hiding place in the wall. The screen flashed green, and with a soft mechanical whirr, the hidden door slid open, and Aelin stepped through. At the top of the secret stairs was another thumbprint-locked door, this one opening into a short, well-lit hallway with a single mahogany door at the end. 

The bronze plate on the door simply read Galathynius. One name. One hell of a reputation. 

Dropping her briefcase on one of the cushioned chairs in front of her desk, Aelin dropped into her seat, opened her personal laptop–heavily encrypted, of course–and clicked through a maze of innocuous folders before locating the file she wanted. It took her a minute and a half, but she hadn’t clawed her way to this position by taking risks. She let her cursor hover over the file for a few seconds before clicking it.

Opening <Spicy_Romance_Recommendations.xlsx>

Aelin didn’t often consider herself prideful, but she had to admit, that was one of her most clever moves. Nobody who tried to break into her computer would open a file with that name, primarily because it was public knowledge that Aelin Galathynius was a big fan of smutty romances–the less plot, the better. She knew full well that everyone she worked with would likely rather die than read her indecent thoughts about her favorite romance novels. 

This file, though, was hardly romantic. It contained several encoded lists of Aelin’s most important not-entirely-legal dealings–shipments, targets, and the like. Needless to say, if anyone other than herself or her inner circle ever got their hands on this file, she would probably be completely screwed. Hence the encoding.

Right on cue, Elide’s distinctive knock sounded on the other side of the door. 

Aelin snapped her fingers, disarming the door’s protective protocol. “Come in, Ells.” 

Elide Lochan, who was probably the smartest person Aelin knew, strode into the office, her six-inch-heeled boots making her almost as tall as Aelin naturally was. “Mornin’, boss.” 

“What’s new around town?” 

Elide smirked and took a seat in the comfortable armchair across from Aelin. “Hmm, nothing much. There’s a delivery for Kingsflame today at 14:20, Cortlands are meeting you tomorrow–you knew that–and oh, PD’s after whoever so graciously sprang a certain Mr. Allsbrook from prison the other night.” She raised a perfectly plucked brow at the blonde. “I don’t suppose you have any intel about the prison break, do you?” 

Aelin pressed her left hand flat against her chest. “My dear Miss Lochan, I have absolutely no idea what happened! Who could possibly have had the skills, time, and influence to slip such a criminal as Ren Allsbrook from national prison?” 

“I swear, you could bullshit the gods themselves,” Elide chuckled. “Right, then. He’s safe?” 

“Laying as low as low can get,” Aelin confirmed. “I have my reasons, Ells.” 

“Of course.” Elide swiped across her tablet. “Oh–one more thing.” 

“Yeah?” 

The petite woman’s eyes glittered with dangerous cold. “Do you have room in your schedule for a night meeting–say 20, 2100–at the plant?” 

A serpentine smile that had made innumerable people piss themselves crawled across Aelin’s scarlet-painted lips. “The boss always has room for that.”

~

The siren’s blaring screech jerked Rowan Whitethorn rudely from his deep sleep, and he cursed filthily, swearing at the gods-fucking-damned alarms for going off at this gods-fucking-damned hour of the morning. Night? He couldn’t say. Too damned early. On autopilot, he shoved himself out of bed and into uniform, sliding his handgun into his thigh holster and grabbing his Kevlar vest, then splashed some freezing water on his face to shock him into wakefulness and hurried off to the briefing room. 

A hum of conversation, most of it pocked with muttered curses, filled the large space. 

Rowan dropped into a chair next to his close friend and squad partner, Lorcan Salvaterre. The dark-haired man, who was even taller and grouchier than Rowan, barely spared him half a glance. 

“The hell’s all this?” Rowan asked. 

Lorcan shrugged. “Damned if I know.” He flicked a look around the soldiers close by and leaned closer to Rowan’s ear, lowering his voice. “Rumor is they found another body.” 

Rowan swore. “Same M.O.?”

“Yep. And,” Lorcan shot Rowan a very significant look, “I’ve heard it showed up at the dead guy’s own property. Surrounded by a shitload of–” 

“Attention! Now!” The commander’s order cut off whatever Lorcan had been about to say. 

Two hundred of Terrasen’s deadliest special forces, each soldier highly trained and capable of several thousand ways of killing a person, snapped to attention, facing the front of the room, where the squadron commander stood. His hands were clasped behind his back and his face was tight, a barely noticeable flicker in the corner of his jaw marking how hard he was clenching his teeth. 

“This won’t be long,” Commander Gavriel Ashryver said once the room had come to complete attentive silence. Gav had been Rowan and Lorcan’s captain when they were in training; he could be damn demanding, but he was an excellent leader. He’d been named commander a couple of years ago when the former one died. “As I’m sure most of you know, we’ve found another body.” He grimaced. “More accurately, Orynth PD has found another body. Same M.O. as every other one we’ve discovered in the last year or so.” He pressed a button on the tiny remote in his hand. 

On the projection screen, a series of images flared to life. Rowan’s sharp gaze scanned the photos, picking up all the details of the man who’d been found dead. Red hair, gray eyes, six foot one, a hundred and eighty-seven pounds, lean build, a handful of characteristic scars. Fifty-two years old at time of death. 

“Name’s Arobynn Hamel,” Gav continued. 

No amount of training could have kept down the ripple of shock that raced through the room. 

Arobynn Hamel was a known gangster, drug trafficker, smuggler, and otherwise notorious criminal who’d been evading law enforcement for years, if not decades. The oily bastard had been linked to a rather thick file full of crimes during his lifetime; special forces hadn’t been the only ones trying to get their hands on him. 

Gav allowed the shock to die down, then went on. “His corpse was found at his own warehouse at approximately 0500 this morning. Orynth PD reports they discovered the body surrounded by multiple large containers of cocaine.” He clicked the remote again, bringing up the police images of the crime scene–which was, in one word, brutal.

“Fuck,” Rowan murmured under his breath. 

“According to PD reports, Hamel had been dead for at least three hours when his body was discovered. We’ll have the morgue’s full report by this afternoon, but initial inspection showed bruises, lacerations, lesions, and burn marks on the body, with the fatal wound undoubtedly being the severed jugular veins and carotid arteries.” Gav paused, waiting a moment for the news to settle. “As for the cocaine found with the body, it’s definitely Hamel’s. Identical bags were found on the property when PD swept it, and at least one of the bags by the body bore fingerprints identified as one of Hamel’s close associates, a criminal known as Graves.” 

Why the hell would he have been stupid enough to leave prints? Rowan asked himself, turning over the details in his mind. 

Gav swept his gaze over the room, probably noticing the calculation in Rowan’s face. “As of now, this remains an Orynth PD case. However, the most recent communication with the PD chief confirmed that we may be asked to join if–” 

“Sir!” A soldier burst through the briefing room doors, a small red slip of paper in his hand. “An urgent message from Orynth PD, sir. Pardon the interruption.” 

“Excused.” Gav snatched the paper and read the brief message. “Fuck.” He snapped his attention back to the room. “You’re all dismissed.”

The soldiers streamed out of the briefing room, most of them probably headed back to the barracks to catch another few hours of sleep before the day actually started. Rowan was almost out the door when his itch to say something got the better of him and he stopped, turning back to approach the commander. 

“I said dismissed, Whitethorn,” Gav said when Rowan approached. 

Rowan saluted. “Yes, sir, you did. I have something to suggest though, sir.” 

Gav exhaled sharply. “Speak.” 

“Sir, I believe the murders are connected–”

“We already knew that, soldier.” Gav’s jaw was locked. “Say something useful or I’ll have you on patrol for the next eight hours.” He headed out of the briefing room, stalking towards his office.

Rowan followed. “It’s Galathynius, sir. I know it is. Behind the murders.” 

“Show me some proof,” Gav returned. “I’m not discrediting your theory, soldier. But it’s nothing more than conjecture until you have concrete proof.” 

Rowan scratched the back of his neck. “That’s the problem, sir. I…I don’t have concrete proof.” He raised his hands before Gav could dismiss him. “But I can get proof, I swear. I just need time, sir.” 

Gav raised a brow. “You want me to assign you to this case?” He walked into his office, gesturing for Rowan to follow him.

“I, uh–”

“When we’ve only been asked to be quietly involved?” He closed the door.

Rowan said nothing.

Gav shook his head slowly. “I admire your eagerness, Whitethorn, but at this moment I can’t send anyone headlong into this mess.” 

“Then when, sir?” Rowan pressed. “If not now, when will I–we–be able to prove that it’s Galathynius behind the murders? Hell, probably behind the whole damn crime ring.” 

“You’re verging mighty close on insolence, Whitethorn,” Gav warned. 

Rowan clenched his fists behind his back and shut up. 

Gav sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose like he always did when he was working through a shitload of information in his mind. “I’m telling you this as your former captain, Whitethorn, and if word of this gets out, I’ll have you flogged and on KP for the next damn decade. Clear?” Rowan nodded. “I’ve just received word that Graves has also been found dead.” 

Rowan gasped sharply. “Same M.O. as Hamel?” 

Gav nodded tightly. “Severed throat, battered body. Pretty nasty crime scene, too.” He fixed Rowan with a piercing stare. “PD officially requests one special forces officer for the investigation.” 

Not daring to hope he’d be chosen, Rowan just nodded. Please trust me, he screamed internally. 

“Against my better judgment–” Gav sat down at his desk and scrawled his signature onto a document that he passed to Rowan. “I’m assigning you to the investigation.”

“Thank you, sir,” Rowan breathed, folding the document neatly and tucking it into his vest. 

“Whitethorn.” Gav’s voice was steely. 

“Sir?” 

“You have one year.” The words were absolutely final. “One year, Whitethorn. If you can’t prove Galathynius is guilty, I’ll have your ass busted down to corporal and shipped off to Eyllwe. Clear?” 

“Yes, sir!” Rowan saluted sharply. 

“Good. Dismissed.” 

Rowan turned on his heel and left Gav’s office, heading quickly back to his room in the barracks, where he stripped off his gear and took a good look at the letter Gav had given him. It was a simple clearance document, identifying him and his position with the investigative team should anyone ask too many questions and need proof that he was supposed to be there. Good. All in order. 

Kneeling on the floor, Rowan reached underneath his mattress and pulled out a manila envelope full of news clippings, photos, images, screenshots, and his own scrawled notes, a year’s worth of info collected from the string of brutal murders that kept cropping up. Each new murder was a known criminal or gangster, someone the law had been trying to capture for years without success. Each followed the same pattern–brutally beaten (probably tortured), throat slashed, body found on the dead man’s property, surrounded by cold hard evidence of his crimes. According to what Rowan knew and had found from the media, only one person could possibly have any motive to take out every notorious criminal in Terrasen. 

Aelin Galathynius.

Rowan knew–he just knew–Galathynius was the one. The CEO had charmed the public into believing she was just a particularly savvy businesswoman, which she was. But rumors, gossip, and other, darker sources whispered about her ruthlessness, her cunning, her willingness to do anything to see her business at the top. Those sources also whispered about another business–a much less legal one. 

Rumor had it Aelin Galathynius led a criminal organization of her own, and she was taking out her rivals with a heartlessness that even Rowan had to admit was impressive. Either way, the woman was guilty. 

And he, Rowan Whitethorn, was going to prove it. 

~~~

TAGS: please let me know if you want to be added or removed :)

@live-the-fangirl-life

@superspiritfestival

@thegreyj

@wordsafterhours

@elentiyawhitethorn

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@rowanaelinn

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@hiimheresworld

[sunnydalestudies]

Wrestling with Whedon

Welcome, Scooby Gang!

When we discuss Buffy the Vampire Slayer, it’s impossible to ignore its creator, Joss Whedon. Once considered a nerd god, his fall from grace has stunned fans, leaving them just as heartbroken as those of the Harry Potter franchise. But let’s start from the beginning: who is Joss Whedon? Many consider Whedon the auteur of BtVS, a term used to denote “a film director who influences their films so much that they rank as their author” (OED); think here of Alfred Hitchcock. Although all of Whedon’s projects, including BtVS, were brought to life by an army of creatives, Whedon is still credited as the creator and sometimes writer and director, rendering his name and contributions inseparable from these projects. 

Joss Whedon might be one of the worst nepotism babies of television writing, with his grandfather being a writer on shows such as The Andy Griffith Show and The Golden Girls being among his father’s projects. Growing up in New York City, Whedon lived a life of luxury, attending Winchester College, a British boarding school, and graduating from Wesleyan University in Connecticut. Although this all sounds like a peaceful and privileged life, Whedon has also come out to say that his parents “ran the home as though they were in the thick of” “a writers’-room battle” and that if he or his brothers “weren’t funny or entertaining or agreeing with them, they would cut [them] down or turn to stone” (Vulture). Because of his childhood experiences, Whedon says that “he suffers from complex post-traumatic-stress disorder” (Vulture); yet, despite not wanting to discredit his trauma, I don’t believe that this excuses him for how he went on to treat others in his life. 

In the 1990s and 2000s, Whedon’s career steadily grew and his cult following of fans with it. With projects such as Buffy the Vampire Slayer (1992, 1997-2003), Angel (1999-2004), Toy Story (1995), Alien Resurrection (1997), Firefly (2002), Serenity (2005), Dr. Horrible’s Sing Along Blog (2008), and Dollhouse (2009-10), Joss Whedon became a god and a king among nerds and the comic-book artist Scott R. Kurtz even designed a highly successful shirt in 2005 that read “Joss Whedon is my Master Now.” Even within the workplace, “a sort of cult of personality formed around Whedon” where “the standard reaction to Joss was worship” (Vulture). During this time, many of Whedon’s projects did not succeed to the extent that many believed they should have, beginning with the “painful” interpretation of his vision for the original BtVS movie, as Kai Cole, his ex-wife, put it (The Wrap), and continuing through to the mishandling and cancellation of Firefly. As a Vice article puts it: 

“The culture of liking Joss Whedon was at this point already about defending him from various enemies—networks who canceled his shows, actors who he claimed said his lines incorrectly, or improvised too much. [...] His success was a symbol of success for liberal nerds everywhere, a sign that comic books and genre fiction could be taken seriously by the world at large. If you were wrapped up in that fandom, any criticism of Whedon became an attack on everything that nerds love, and it’s a dynamic that doesn’t exist only in the past tense.” (Vice)

This passionate and often obsessive fanbase aided Whedon’s breakthrough into mainstream culture in the early 2010s, when, within a single year, Whedon released three very different yet successful projects: The Cabin in the Woods (2012), a horror movie satire, Much Ado About Nothing (2012) a black and white DIY production of a Shakespeare classic, and The Avengers (2012), the renowned Marvel superheroes film. This year marked the height of Whedon’s career, with his following projects slowly marking his downfall. 

In 2015, with the release of The Avengers: Age of Ultron, Whedon encountered his first backlash and the first indications of flaws in his feminism. Viewers labelled the film as sexist because of a scene where Black Widow claims to be monstrous since she cannot bear children. Two years later, in 2017, Whedon’s scrapped 2006 Wonder Woman script leaked, and those who read it once again saw his portrayal of female superheroes as sexist, this time regarding his script as a nerd’s wet dream. Later that same year, Kai Cole, Whedon’s ex-wife, released a public statement about her relationship with Whedon and revealed his numerous affairs and over a decade of lying. In this article, Cole explains that they met in 1991 and were married for over twenty years before separating. In this time, spanning the most successful years of Whedon’s career, Kai Cole says: “I loved him. And in return, he lied to me. A lot” (The Wrap). Cole believes that “he used his relationship with [her] as a shield [...] so no one would question his relationships with other women or scrutinize his writing as anything other than feminist” (The Wrap). Whedon even did the opposite and used his feminist reputation as a defence in his marriage when Cole was at times “uncomfortable with the attention Joss paid other women” (The Wrap). She elaborates that “he always had a lot of female friends, but he told me it was because his mother raised him as a feminist, so he just liked women better. He said he admired and respected females, he didn’t lust after them. I believed him and trusted him” (The Wrap). Sadly, Whedon’s later projects—and even earlier projects, although viewers did not notice it—revealed that he did not solely admire and respect strong female characters but sexualized them for his own satisfaction. 

Whedon’s reputation as a feminist was so strong that he had even previously received awards for his feminist efforts, notably when “Equality Now gave him an award in 2006—presented by Meryl Streep—for his efforts as a male feminist” (Vice). Cole wanted to correct this vision of Whedon, who, as she says, “never conceded the hypocrisy of being out in the world preaching feminist ideals, while at the same time, taking away [her] right to make choices for [her] life and [her] body based on the truth” (The Wrap). In the end, Cole only desired to warn against the previously normalized worship of her ex-husband and explained, “I want to let women know that he is not who he pretends to be. I want the people who worship him to know he is human, and the organizations giving him awards for his feminist work, to think twice in the future about honouring a man who does not practice what he preaches” (The Wrap). Cole’s statement was the fandom’s wake-up call, but many continued worshiping Whedon, simply acknowledging that he was human and made mistakes. At this point, all we knew was that he cheated on his wife—it was sad, but it was not anything out of the ordinary for celebrities and the average person alike. 

Over the years, more women have come forward to share their experiences with romantic or sexual relationships with Joss Whedon. In Cole’s article, she says that Whedon had his first affair on the set of Buffy the Vampire Slayer, and years later, after coming clean about this, he told her, “I was surrounded by beautiful, needy, aggressive young women. It felt like I had a disease, like something from a Greek myth. Suddenly I am a powerful producer and the world is laid out at my feet and I can’t touch it” (The Wrap). Whedon has used this feeling of helplessness as an excuse for his mistreatment of the women of BtVS numerous times, explaining elsewhere that “he had felt he ‘had’ to sleep with them, that he was ‘powerless’ to resist” (Vulture). If this reminds you of rapists blaming their actions on their victims’ clothing, professions, or behaviours, saying they couldn’t control themselves, you’re not the only one. Even as a younger man at university, “he admired strong women like his mother, yet he’d discovered he was capable of hurting them, ‘usually by sleeping with them and ghosting or whatever’” (Vulture). In the accounts from women who dated Whedon after his marriage ended, “he was not the hero they had read about in the press, the one who wanted to see women in control; he was more like the cold-blooded men he depicted in his work” (Vulture), and the Whedon at Wesleyan sounds a lot like Parker Abrams from early season four, or even Angel right after he lost his soul. Since his marriage ended, Whedon has sought treatment for a love and sex addiction, a path also taken by celebrities such as “James Franco, Kevin Spacey, and Harvey Weinstein” (Vulture). If Vulture’s article was more recent, I am sure Kanye West would also be on that list. Additionally, celebrities such as Russell Brand, David Duchovny, Tiger Woods, and Rob Lowe have also sought treatment for the same addiction, with many of these celebrities only doing so in response to a cheating scandal. Whether Whedon has healed and grown in this regard is unbeknownst to us, but many before him paved this path to redemption in the media’s eyes. 

The same year as Cole’s statement, Justice League (2017) came to theatres, which Whedon later labelled as “one of the biggest regrets of his life” and would contribute considerably to his downfall (Vulture). The original director of the film was Zach Snyder, who had his own group of devoted and worshiping fans, but he had to drop the project to be with his family after his daughter committed suicide, so Whedon took over the post-production duties. Whedon did more than oversee the final touches, though, and instead made drastic changes to the film. After viewers were disappointed by Whedon’s version, they demanded to see Snyder’s, which the studio released in 2021; yet, before its release in 2020, the cast began speaking out about their experiences with Whedon. What precipitated the avalanche of testimonies regarding Whedon’s workplace behaviour was a July 2020 tweet by Ray Fisher saying that “Joss Whedon’s on-set treatment of the cast and crew of Justice League was gross, abusive, unprofessional, and completely unacceptable.” Following Fisher’s statement, allegations of racist treatment of the actor and character surfaced, and other actors came forward with their experiences. Suddenly, the fans who worshiped Snyder were attacking Whedon online, and those who previously worshipped Whedon weren’t sure what to do. Allegations of Whedon abusing his power continued to emerge over the next few months, but what put the nail in the coffin holding Whedon’s reputation happened in 2021 when Charisma Carpenter went to Twitter to rehash her experiences with Whedon on the set of Angel. This was not the first time she had discussed his “casually cruel” behaviour or her wrongful dismissal; in fact, “the actress has been talking about it with fans and reporters for more than a decade” (Vulture), but it was nonetheless the final straw. By the time the first half-season of The Nevers (2021) premiered on HBO, promising Whedon’s return to television, Joss Whedon had already stepped down as the showrunner, and the marketing did not acknowledge his involvement. In the year and a half since its airing, HBO has cancelled the show and removed the already aired episodes from their library—HBO, at the very least, is treating Whedon to the full cancellation treatment, and we will see who follows suit. 

But what does this all mean to the fandom and scholars? In truth, no one is sure, but they have been asking just that for the past two years. Since so many people around the world love BtVS so much and yet are so deeply disappointed in what has come to light about Whedon, many people have decided to divorce the art from the artist, completely ignoring Whedon’s role in its production, or they have erased BtVS from their lives. These are both flawed responses. The first response, where people have separated the art from the artist, neglects the richness of potential scholarship or understanding that becomes available by analyzing BtVS alongside what we now know about Whedon. As one article explains, “the belief that [Buffy’s] story was something other than a projection of his psyche is ultimately just another fantasy. Whedon did understand pain — his own. Some of that pain, as he once put it to me, ‘spilled over’ into the people around him. And some of it was channeled into his art” (Vulture). There is new and rich nuance to BtVS that fans and scholars alike should not ignore. The second response ignores the contributions of everyone else who worked on the show; it feels inappropriate to disregard the effort of these writers, producers, directors, makeup artists, costume designers, set designers, actors, and the list goes on, especially if they continued to contribute to a project they saw the merits in despite the work environment being less than ideal or even toxic and abusive. If they endured Whedon’s cruelty during BtVS’ production, then we should acknowledge and be thankful for their work rather than dismiss it because of their boss’ wrongdoings. 

After all, BtVS now belongs to the fans and scholars who have made it what it is, and although people throw this sentiment around, it is grounded in literary theory, that being Roland Barthes’ ‘Death of the Author’ essay from 1967. In this essay, Barthes puts forth that we, as fans and scholars, should not study a work in tandem with its author and that an author does not exist in the way we think of it. It’s a complicated essay, so let’s pick out some pieces that help us understand BtVS and Whedon. Barthes makes two foundational statements about authorship: “writing is the destruction of every voice, every origin. […] this gap appears, the voice loses its origin, the author enters into his own death, writing begins,” and “the text is a fabric of quotations, resulting from a thousand sources of culture. […] the writer can only imitate an ever anterior, never original gesture.” According to Barthes, the author does not create anything new but instead translates, borrows, and recontextualizes what already exists; further, he is not doing so with his own voice, but he is merely the medium through which these previous sources move—the author dies as the work is born. Relating this to BtVS, we must remind ourselves of what the writers claimed to be their inspirations, but also what we see within the series since the show as a whole may appear new despite everything within it has previously existed and carries meaning with it. All those pop culture references that the show makes seem inconsequential but may be much more significant than we previously understood since the significance behind these references impacts the meaning of BtVS. 

BtVS’ authorship is further complicated when we consider Barthes’ assertions that “to assign an Author to a text is to impose a brake on it, to furnish it with a final signified, to close writing. […] once the Author is found, the text is ‘explained.’” Although I just explained how I believe that we should acknowledge Whedon’s influence on BtVS, I want to emphasize that we will never truly understand the collective authorship of BtVS since so many talented writers were in the writing room, many individuals worked on the project, and even the viewers were able to impact the show’s development. Finally, Barthes makes the point that art belongs to the fans, saying that “the unity of a text is not in its origin but in its destination,” and I understand this to mean that the meaning of art is not decided by the author or writer but by the reader or watcher, and gives them what they need from it. Each BtVS viewer came to the show from a different place, and yet so many people found something special in it which spoke to them, and the writers may claim to have meant these things or not, but the meaning, or “unity of a text,” is not dictated by the writers, but by the fans, the “destination.” 

Joss Whedon may have written the original Buffy the Vampire Slayer script thirty years ago, and the show may have concluded twenty years ago, but BtVS never truly belonged to Whedon. BtVS has always belonged to the viewers, fans, and scholars, so although Whedon’s actions have added complications to the series and how people now enjoy it, they should not stop anyone’s enjoyment of it. 

That’s that for this Sunnydale study session!

Liz

TL;DR: Whedon sucks and I recommend you read these articles: 

https://www.vulture.com/article/joss-whedon-allegations.html

https://www.thewrap.com/joss-whedon-feminist-hypocrite-infidelity-affairs-ex-wife-kai-cole-says/

https://www.vice.com/en/article/v7d34y/when-joss-whedon-was-our-master

[rottingglory]

hi! i'm twenty-one (turning twenty-two in december) looking for 18+ partners (preferably 20+) to plot with! (CST time) ! i have a character i've been dying to use for a mxf corporate plot—thinking co-worker x co-worker or ceo (your character!) x director of communications (my character)! she is in her late twenties / early thirties so i would expect your character to be around that age as well! i use real life face claims : )

i’m craving a messy corporate dynamic—think stress, public image crises, people in suits running down hallways, late-night shenanigans, all that chaos. some quick notes about my character: she’s cutthroat, stressed, totally capable, and definitely calls the shots in the relationship. i know corporate kind of screams that sort of “50 shades of gray” thing but that’s not what i’m looking for (and frankly my OC is kind of an awful woman lmao!) pfft, though i am completely fine with nsfw !

her background’s cushioned by nepotism, so she’s cynical and not above using her connections for success. she’s pragmatic to the core—results come before morals. she's a natural charmer, amazing at reading a room, and knows just how to present herself and her clients as "real people." she can be ruthless, but she's a fiercely loyal friend who’d do anything for you. despite her hard edges, she's touch-starved, incredibly affectionate in small ways, and a total softie when it counts!

if you’re interested, reach out! i’m super into headcanons, moodboards, playlists, art, etc. ! i hope i find someone that matches my enthusiasm ! just message me with whatever you'd like to do and some basic info on yourself ! thank you !

[leftoblique]

Just saw a post about Taylor Swift and while the gist of it was correct (her parents were comfortably upper middle class, knew people in country music, and contributed aggressively and materially to her career) every single number stated in the post was either wrong or a gross exaggeration.

Swift's parents did spend what seems like an inordinate amount of money on her career, including buying a small stake in a startup record company. But the buy-in wasn't any more money than if they'd sent her to a private four-year college in the same period, and arguably did a better job of getting her her first real professional gig.

The takeaway from Taylor Swift's career shouldn't be "oh my god look at this lady failson! nepotism! nepotism! fuck her!" it should be "hey did you know this is what basically all* [white] upper-middle-class families do in America - they buy their kids all the advantages they can so that they are guaranteed to have a soft landing in adulthood, and maybe we should think about the pressures and structures that make that such an appealing way to game the system?"

* (except the ones who disown their queer or wayward kids for not living up to their standards, of course)

There are twin realities here that we need to acknowledge:

Swift, through no fault of her own, was given a lot of advantages in life that helped her succeed - advantages most other people don't have.

Swift is an incredibly talented performer and public personality who has built a very successful brand and made some awesome music.

I think we can hold those both in our heads at the same time without demonizing her or even her parents, or trying to claim she isn't actually good at what she does.

Now, Kid Rock? Shithead nepo failson.

[ohnothehedgepog]

More Black Arms headcanons for my AU

The species name for the Black Arms is "Demon". The Black Arms are a single family/political/military faction out of many other demons.

Factions are nepotic in nature, with many generations of related Hive Lords working with each other to maintain might, such as Black Doom and his brother, Black Death.

Faction families of Demons can be distinguished from one another by the physical characteristics that the Hive Lords have. All Hive Lords will look like some form of Demonic mermaid, with distinct families having their Hive Lords share features of a specific marine Earth animal phylum, like Cnidaria or Mollusca. Black Doom and Death's family is notable for having Echinoderm (sea stars, urchins, etc) characteristics in their Hive Lords.

In some ways, the Earth is lucky that Black Doom had a claim on the Earth for thousands of years. The solar system is smack dab in a contested area between two other warring aliens in the present, and is seen as an invaluable military outpost. The only thing keeping these factions from destroying the Earth over the strategic territory was Black Doom and his formidable army already being dead set on having it for themselves, his claim in place millennia before the outsiders were fighting each other. The Black Arms and other Demons are neutral to these warring factions. Should either of the outsiders attack Earth, then other demons would declare war on them, in addition to Black Doom's faction. That'd be pretty bad. While power within a Demon faction can be decided by might, it's primarily decided by succession, the power transferring from the Patriarch (head of faction) to the Crown Princep ( Princep: gender neutral term for prince/princess) (Crown Princep: child of the Patriarch chosen for the role in the future). Should the Patriarch die while the Crown Princep is still a darkling, then a Regent within the family will take over as temporary ruler until the darkling is ready to become a Hive Lord.

Black Death is currently the Regent for Shadow. While Shadow was determined mentally mature enough to be ready for the role of Hive Lord and by extension, Patriarch, he declined as he doesn't want to have a Hive Lord body. Shadow and the rest of the leaders of the Earth wanted Black Death to release the Black Arms claim on Earth at first, but after Death explained the devastation it would cause for Earth if the outsiders were to fight over it with no threat of violating Demon territory, they decided that ok, technically the Black Arms rule Earth now with Shadow as the Crown Princep and Black Death, his Regent, helping him handle all of the political mess that comes with intergalactic politics that Shadow is barely beginning to learn about.

[psychic-refugee]

I think it’s unfair to dismiss PHW’s accomplishments and CV as straight up nepotism.

I know most people are simply grasping at anything they think can stick to paint him in a bad light, and the others are simply bitter and jealous of anyone whose had any ounce of success while they waste away in their mediocrity.

We have to take the antis in context, they’re expressing impotent rage on the internet over someone they don’t know because of a rumour they heard on social media.

They have to ignore logic and proudly claim ignorance in order to maintain their beliefs.

Yes, his mother and father are in the business. Do they separately or collectively have the clout and wealth to convince casting directors to hire their son, regardless of if he were talented? No.

As we’ve seen with the writer’s strike, writers do not have the type of influence say a Hollywood A lister or wealthy executive producer would have.

We should look at the context of their careers before we dismiss PHW’s accomplishments.

Antis love to say he was a nobody before Wednesday, but at the same time comes from a family with such influence and wealth that they get him gigs, awards, AND has influence over the police.

Antis do a lot of mental gymnastics and doublethink in order to justify their vile behaviour.

What I would say, is that PHW has benefited from Nepotism’s cousin, Privilege.

Could his parents have insider knowledge on how to work the system and taught their son to give him an advantage? Probably.

Were his parents well off enough that they could take time to bring him to auditions and not worry about other expenses? Probably.

Could his parents have insider knowledge on upcoming auditions that someone who didn’t work in the business wouldn’t have, and possibly have bags/first dibs? Maybe.

Could his parents have a good rapport with casting directors and others in the business where they would see him an already positive light? Maybe.

We can inherit so much more than just generational wealth from our parents. We can inherit and benefit from their legacy and goodwill. But that’s how networking works. We create good relationships with others in the business and help out friends and family.

Nothing works on pure merit, anyone crying about it is just mad the previous generations of their family failed in this regard.

Are these advantages? Yes. Are they such that PHW shut out meaningful competition? In the context of how competitive the industry is, I would say no.

I think there are others who are much more at an advantage, actual Nepo babies of A listers and Executives, that he’s merely afloat and can compete at all, rather than he just walked to the finish line.

It sucks that some have to literally start from nothing, but that’s not PHW’s fault and I don’t think anyone in a similar situation would turn down the advantages he’s had.

People work with what they have and take any advantage given or presented to them. I do not think he should be dismissed for being born in an advantageous situation, when he took those advantages and did well with them.

He might have had help getting into the door, but the awards and gigs he’s gotten I think are due to his hard work and talent.