#even if it’s about individual people mentioned in this

[argumate]

I'm always conflicted on sentiments like this because Australia's treatment of its Aboriginal inhabitants has been truly appalling, an indefensible process of genocide and neglect that has continued to the present day, and it's unfortunate that it generates some quite silly rhetoric in response.

you don't have to cede sovereignty to conquerors! that's kind of what conquest means, and while there were individual agreements with local Aboriginal groups (most of which were routinely disregarded by the settlers of course) there was ultimately no need for the British to negotiate a treaty (for what?) in a military sense, they had already won and from their point of view there was no one left to negotiate a treaty with.

now morally of course they did have a responsibility even under their own system of values to treat everyone fairly, and the really awkward part is that Australia didn't give full voting rights to Aboriginal citizens until the 1960s (!) which is wild; the first half of the 20th century was spent isolating and confining the Aboriginal population in the hope that they would disappear.

but then there were a few ("lost") Aboriginal families who didn't even make contact with the rest of Australia until the 1980s (!!!) so the process of assimilation technically took two hundred years to even start in their case (with vaccinations, presumably).

anyway the incarceration rate for Aboriginal youth is so high it's a national embarrassment, it should be the first thing people mention when they talk about Australia.

A reminder to anyone reading this that so-called Australia is stolen Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander lands, that we never ceded sovereignty to our colonizers. So called Australia is the only "Commonwealth" country that has never had a treaty with First Nations peoples. Only two years ago the government held a referendum to determine whether we, the sovereign peoples of this land, should have an advisory body in government and the nation voted no. So called Australia is the only nation that celebrates on January 26, the anniversary of the beginning of the attempted colonisation and genocide of its First Nations peoples. If you are not Aboriginal or Torres Strait Islander and you're living in so called Australia, you benefit directly from our colonisation and it's your duty to stand with us. Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander people are the most incarcerated people by percentage on Earth. We are also the oldest living, continuous culture known to humankind. For 100s of 1000s of years our Mob stood beautiful, Blak and deadly and we will continue to do so because this always was and always will be our lands. We are still here.

[esote-rika]

lose some, win some | Spencer Reid Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!Waldorf!Reader Category: Hurt/Comfort, Smut 18+, MDNI Summary: COLLEGE AU! When your debate team loses the national championship, you and Spencer return to your shared room and find a productive way to take out your frustrations. Content: Waldorf!Reader is a sore loser, lots of dialogue in the beginning, Sassy!Spencer, some talk of misogyny, Spencer makes up for it by being a munch (so f receiving oral), virgin!Spencer but he’s also a little shit, they are both little shits but it’s cute I swear, handjob, raw p in v but reader mentions she is on the pill, creampies, multiple orgasms for both of them (they’re frustrated and horny give them a break) Word count: 4.8k (it's porn with a plot for once) A/N: Not really frenemies or rivals, they’re just really angry young adults. Idk what Spencer’s actual age was in college, but he studied several times so for this fic, he’s on his third degree and is 21. If the debate stuff is incorrect, I'm sorry. I did do some research but there's so many different rules and styles lmfao. My friend who competes says it’s fine and understandable so :) also massive thanks to @just-call-me-by-yn @mggslover and @notlongtolove for helping me brainstorm and @wheresmacoffee because she was there JK  ILY ANDY their banter during the filthy part is for you <3.

Spencer Reid doesn’t particularly care about the prestige that comes with winning. Most people crave it for the validation, or because it’s another impressive thing they can slap onto their resumes, but being a genius his entire life allows him not to worry about that. His academics speak for themselves. He doesn’t need to pad it with extracurriculars. Instead, he enjoys the skills that are honed from debate—learning to listen to arguments, finding the perfect way to rebut, memorization and reviewing with like minded individuals. The university team is a well oiled machine composed of four people— him on his third degree, two other male juniors, and you, the only woman.

Over the span of two semesters, he’s memorized the quirks of his teammates. It’s essential to building rapport, after all, and he’s eager to get something good out of this. Something less academic, and more social. Friends, perhaps. While he’s formed a bond with the other members, you have always been an enigma. Stoic and ambitious, you remind him of a statue. Cold and oh so beautiful. You’ve often kept to yourself. And after several rejected attempts at friendship, he’s learned to just observe from afar.

He knows from experience that observing allows you deep insight into people, and so he knows after two semesters that you’re perhaps the most competitive out of the entire team, the most hungry for a win. This drive, he suspects, comes from a deeply rooted desire to prove yourself, though he’s unsure why. What else do you have to prove? You have everything, as far as he’s concerned. Keenly intelligent, beautiful, with a circle of friends that adore you. You aren’t like him, who has to sink his claws deep into this debate team in order to get a dose of social interaction. No, you have a life, no matter how marblesque you may seem.

And yet, somehow it’s still not enough for you.

He thinks it’s utterly ridiculous, and absolutely fascinating.

The weekend of nationals is taxing. You’ve been fighting for the opener role since the semis, but it would require too much adjustment, which no one is willing to risk so close to nationals. Not only does he not want to give up his spot, he also knows how ruthless you can be as a rebuttal speaker. He's meek, and you have a tendency to be aggressive, it's why the original roles go so well. 

Your adviser agreed, and there’s been tension ever since. 

To make matters worse, hotel arrangements somehow have placed both of you in the same room. The force of your resentment is palpable even to a normally clueless guy like him. Distracting. Pages being turned in your exaggerated annoyance. He’d complain of dramatics, but he doesn’t want to start anything. 

The fact that you’re rooming together also doesn’t help him. Sure, there are different beds, small twin mattresses on either side of the room, but still. Proximity to a woman his age has him anxious for reasons entirely unrelated to nationals. 

So when you lose the championship, his concern for your reaction behind doors overwhelms the regret of losing. 

No one is happy with the results. It is obvious from the set of his jaw, the tenseness of your shoulders. Spencer tries to calm down, accept defeat with a modicum of grace, at least in front of other people. He can tell the rest of the team is trying too, but quite unconvincingly. Onstage, accepting the medals for second place—mockingly silver, and no trophies—the team’s smiles are forced, plastic. 

Back to the hotel rooms are a different story. When you slam the hotel door shut, it echoes down the hall and makes even your debate adviser flinch. It would have made Spencer flinch too, if he hadn't already expected it. He's grown accustomed to how bad of a loser you can be. Like a tornado, your anger spares no one from its destruction. It is in these moments that your stoic resolve crumbles, no longer unfeeling, but rather fully human. Hurtful. Ruthless Unfortunately for him, he's directly in your line of fire.

He catches bits and pieces of your muttered diatribes. He’s used to those too. Normally, he would have ignored them. Losing sucks the energy out of a person, regardless of how uncompetitive he is. Besides, your ranting is mostly harmless, until one sentence snags his attention.

“— knew I should have been the opening speaker —”

He is clawing at his tie, trying desperately to get it off, but the words make him stop immediately. He whirls around, brows furrowed, “What?”

You pause as well, “What?”

“What did you say about being the opening speaker?” He watches you roll your eyes. It does nothing to calm the bitterness in the back of his throat. The normal song and dance goes like this: he’d say a string of words in an attempt to soothe the fire burning in your nerves, and you'd say something so vitriolic he'd refuse to speak to you for the rest of your time together. 

But today, having just lost the biggest championship after working so hard, he's a short fuse and your words are incendiary.

“I said I should have done it, like I asked—”

“Ah, as usual, you're mad that you didn't get what you wanted.” 

An offended scoff. He's almost proud he managed to pull that out of you. “You take too long—”

“Nationals isn't the time to suddenly alter the roles,” he tells you, shaking his head. He manages to loosen the tie, finally, tossing it on his bed with so much aggression it misses the mattress and lands limply on the floor, “I've always been the opening speaker.”

“Yes, and one would think that after going through so many debate competitions,  you would learn to be more succinct,” you snap, shoes making harsh clacks against the tiled floor, “The goal isn't to let us know you're the smartest person in the room, Spencer, it's to set up the tone and groundwork of—”

“I don't need you to lecture me about being the opening,” he interrupts, “I know what my role requires of me.”

“Do you?” Eyes flashing, you walk to him until you're almost chest to chest, “Because we still lost.”

“And you blaming me?” he hisses, leaning down. He hates doing this, stooping to your level of pettiness. Normally, he would choose to be the bigger person, refusing your verbal sparring; he likes to focus his energy on the actual debate, the opposing team, not his own teammates. But your words cut deeper than normal; it isn't the fault the team lost, that's just a flat out lie, “We advised you multiple times to memorize the statistics—”

“Something you're better at!” You look physically pained to admit his superiority, but the words spill anyway, “You'd be so much better to do the rebuttals since you have your stupid photographic memory, and I can set the tone better, but nobody on this little boys club ever listens to me!”

He's surprised at the choked tone your voice has taken. In his mind, you're a complete equal—you made it to the team through hard work and impeccable skills, like the rest of them did, after all. It didn't matter that you are a woman to him, so of course his instinct is to deny. “That’s not true.” but even his voice sounds weak. 

How would he know if it’s not true? He’s never been in your shoes before, never had to reckon with what comes with being the only woman in a team of men.

“Isn’t it?” he flinches at the venom in your voice, “You all act like I'm an afterthought—I get the shittiest positions even when I know I can be more effective in a different one, no one ever asks me for strategy, hell, you never invite me to your stupid chess games.”

His mouth opens and closes foolishly, latching on to the one thing he has a full response to, “I thought you hate chess.”

A sharp laugh, petulant and bitter, “I do, but it would have been nice to be included.”

He doesn’t know what to say. You’ve turned around, yanking off your pristine maroon blazer so roughly he’s afraid it might rip. The silence that grows makes him itch, hands balling into fists as he tries to think of what to do. Social dynamics have always been a thing of mystery to him. 

He wonders if he is part of this problem. He’s no stranger to feeling different and on the outs, and it pains him to think that he inadvertently caused someone else to feel that same, unpleasant exclusion.

But, no. Quickly, he recalls every single time he’s tried to include you—a museum trip that you’d declined because you had a party you wanted to attend. His extra tickets to the Nutcracker.

“That’s not true,” his voice is firm now, following you until he’s standing right behind. Lavender hits his nose and his brain registers the scent of your shampoo. Definitely too close if he can smell that, but he refuses to back away, intent on getting his point across, “That’s not true, I’ve tried to— you were always too busy.”

“What, I’m a liar now?” you spin around, pretty features twisted to somehow express both anger and hurt. He almost falters. Almost. 

But he’s too worked up, even though he knows he should back off, to not trivialize your experiences in order to defend himself. He should know better than this, but the sting of your accusation spurs him on. So he pushes, eyes narrowing, “Last year, September 14, 21, and 29, I invited you to come with us for several casual chess tournaments, you declined all invitations because you claimed you hated chess. October 29th, I told you about the new exhibit they were displaying—”

“It was Halloween weekend, I already had plans—”

“December 19th, I offered you Nutcracker tickets and you said you’d already seen it—”

“I have,” your voice has grown quiet now, and if he stops speaking for a single moment to look, your features have relaxed into something gentler. But he’s on a roll, and you have always been right about things; his inability to be succinct is one of them.

“Even this year, I invited you to study multiple times, but you’ve always had prior plans,” the words are spoken with neutrality. He isn’t even angry anymore, just eager to list everything down and let you know how hard he’s tried with you. Even after the numerous rejections, he’s made an effort, but of course, you have other friends, other plans outside your nerdy debate team. He’s never held that against you, but if you wanted to point fingers, he has the means to defend himself. And sure, he wants to prove you wrong on some level too, but that’s the lesser point. “Maybe if you stopped acting like you’re better than me, and just accepted, you wouldn’t be feeling so excluded.”

“I don’t act like I’m better than you.”

“You just said you would have made a better opening speaker.”

You scoff, “Oh my god, you’re infuriating, I can’t believe I’m stuck with you!”

Spencer bristles at that, “I’m giving you the facts, it’s not my fault you can’t handle them.” he says, leaning closer, trying to make her see his point, “You’re always so closed off and the other guys have just given up trying. Maybe if you—”

“What? If I smiled more? Acted less like a bitch?” you sneer, eyes narrowed dangerously, “I thought a genius like you would know better than to use misogynistic language like that.”

“Wha— no! Don’t put words in my mouth.” Spencer replies, shaking his head. The conversation is devolving into something dangerous, the air crackling with something electric. He assumes it’s anger. They will never get anywhere, so he sighs, softening slightly, “I never said that. I’m just pointing out that you weren’t blameless in this, you know?”

You’re silent. He watches you, takes in how the resentment in your eyes have been dulled by something more contemplative.

He continues, “Listen, I’m sorry if we’ve made you feel like you were on the outs. I’m sure we have to do so much reflection as a team and as individuals about how we treat each other, but it’s unfair to say that we never include you when I have actively been making efforts to—”

Your lips are upon him. 

That’s inaccurate. 

You are upon him, arms flung around his neck, body pressed flush against his. He feels the entire world tilt, and he’s unsure if it’s because you’re pulling him down or because your lips are so pillowy he’s instantly eager for more. Wants it like a man starved. Needs it, needs more, but his body betrays him. Whether it’s his inexperience or surprise or a combination of both. He freezes, blinking rapidly at the sight of you. Eyes shut, and face so close to him; so, so close he can count each individual eyelash, see the tiny freckle on your eyelid that gets hidden if your eyes are open.

And then you're gone. The freckle disappears as you look at him with wide eyed mortification. 

“Shit, Spencer, I—”

It’s his lips that cut you off this time, seeking out the velvety warmth of your mouth. Your lips part under his, and he registers a sound, soft and whining. It takes him a moment to realize it came from him, from the back of his throat and muffled by your lips and tongue and oh you’re both falling.

Literally. He must have leaned too far into you; you’re suddenly collapsing, forcing him down because your arms have him in a vice grip and he’s too busy chasing after your lips. The next thing he knows is he’s on top of you and you’re sprawled on the bed beneath him. Time stands still; he’s painfully aware of how cliche that is, but every sense of eloquence seems to have been expelled from his brain as he takes you in; lips swollen and wet from his kisses, pupils blown wide. Every breath you take pushes your chest up against his, and he can feel your heart thrumming against his body. 

“Well, that was one way of shutting you up,” you chuckle with a cockiness that makes his heart speed up, though it isn’t borne out of embarrassment. Every single physiological effect of your body is evidence that you’re enjoying this, telling him you’re just as worked up as he is. The breathiness in your voice, the quickness of your heartbeat. 

The fact that you’re pulling him down again, legs hooking around his hips. He surrenders to it, lips meeting yours once again, deeper and more desperate this time.

He closes his eyes, relishing this, kissing you, touching you, an act he had believed is reserved for attractive jocks and charismatic art nerds. Not him, quiet and lanky, shifting to avoid his angular bones from digging into you, and to place himself more comfortably on the bed. Inexperienced, ungainly, and yet here he is, his tongue pushing into your mouth in his first forays into something that his peers have experienced years ago.

Spencer Reid isn’t used to being the one behind, doing the catching up. Child prodigy, genius, the words aren’t meaningless. He’s been ahead academically—which, up until this point, has been his whole life. But feeling warm lips beneath his own has him reconsidering some of his life choices. 

The kiss is messy. Sloppy from his clumsy attempts to keep up with your eagerness. You’re tugging at something, and he realizes it’s to untuck the rest of the crisp shirt you’ve donned for the debate tournament out from your skirt. His hands settle on your waist, finding smooth, heated skin from where your shirt has ridden up. Careful fingers help push it up, burying under the fabric until his palms are mapping out the slopes of your body. 

Soft. So damn soft. 

Not cold marble after all. He theorizes you must be soft everywhere, and he decides to test it out with his lips, laving kisses along your jaw, down the sweet, musky skin of your neck where your perfume still lingers. Instincts take over and he allows himself a taste, tongue darting out. You shudder, so he does it again, greedy for your pretty moans and gasps. 

He can’t help the smile that tugs at his lips, “Thought you were mad at me?” he mumbles, trailing his kisses down the column of your throat. 

You’re all mhms and ohhhs right now, so far from the usual image you present to the world, a preppy, manicured woman who wrestles for control over everything. You must hate this, he thinks, being beneath him physically, caged within his arms which are deceptively strong for how fragile he looks. 

“Shut up,” you grumble.

“Make me.” His grin is dopey when he lifts his head to meet her gaze.

Something brushes against his crotch, and now he’s the one gasping, jerking in surprise at the friction. You’ve slotted your thigh between his, and his traitorous body responds by grinding down on it shamelessly. The look on your face is smug, triumphant.

“Huh,” saccharine and mocking, you blink up at him innocently, “That was easier than I thought.”

His head drops to your neck again, but he isn’t kissing you anymore. Just open mouthed breathing as he rubs himself on your thigh, hands tightening on your sides, “Mhm.”

“Are you gonna come? Spencer, I haven’t even touched you yet.”

He sinks his teeth into your flesh to fight the needy whines because yes, he’s so embarrassingly close and you’re both still fully dressed. He hears a hiss, and he backs off immediately, murmuring apologies, “Didn’t mean to—”

“‘S okay,” you tilt your head back, give him more access to your neck, “Just don’t leave marks.”

Permission to bite. He gulps, heart beating wildly, before ducking back down. Chapped lips run over your neck, finding a soft spot to bite, forcing himself to soften the way his teeth sink into your skin. All the while rubbing himself on your thigh because it’s probably the closest thing to heaven a man such as him will ever experience. 

He hears your laughter, your mocking cooes of, “You’re so fucking needy” but he can’t bring himself to care.

You’re correct, he decides, as you usually are. He’s needy, desperately so, eagerly chasing the delicious pleasure of dry humping your thigh. 

“Hold on, Spencer.”

You push him back gently. A whine rips from his throat, “Mhm—why?”

He gets his answer soon enough. Your hands undo his belt and he swears this sets his whole body on fire. Nobody’s ever seen him like this. Never has another person touched him so intimately, seen him so out of control, so brainless. He’s babbling incoherently as your hand strokes up and down his length, his hips rutting into your hand. It’s out of sync. Two dancers on entirely different rhythms.

Your laughter rings in his ears, one hand tangled in his hair as the other does unspeakable, tantalizing things to his aching cock. 

“Mhm, can’t— I’m gonna—” and he’s spilling into your hand, hot, viscous liquid overflowing from your hand and staining your skirt, “Ah, shit.”

He collapses against you, head on the crook of your shoulder as he tries to catch his breath. “‘M sorry, I’ll– I’ll pay for your dry cleaning.”

Your chest shakes as you laugh, “Would you? I think you owe me more than that.” The heat in your voice makes his breath catch in his throat.

Soft kisses press upon your neck as he gathers his thoughts, willing his brain to work again. Anatomy, female anatomy. Female pleasure. What does he know about this? A lot, surprisingly, though mostly from books. Mostly in theory, but that’s a start. He can put them to practice right now. His hands drag down your sides until they catch the waistband of your skirt. “May I?”

“Okay.”

He pulls gently, exposing the rest of your thighs and legs. Honey brown eyes devour the expanse of your skin, hands clutching at the softness. He marvels at the way your flesh accepts his own, bright red splotches imprinted from his fingertips.   

He thinks of poetry, the uncountable amount of words and phrases written to immortalize women and love and sex, and he finds himself wishing he has the skill to compose something as beautiful, something worthy of you right now, radiant and half naked and somehow all his. 

But he is no poet, so he touches his lips upon your body instead. Pretty words will escape him, but his lips can speak even without them, he’ll make sure of it. He kisses down your abdomen, making sure to pay attention to every hidden freckle and birthmark he comes across. Your reactions make him feel drunk, to the point of affecting him physically. Messier kisses. Hands tugging and nearly ripping the lace of your panties because he’s unaware of his own strength. 

“So pretty,” he mumbles, “So pretty.” It’s all he can repeat, but then his tongue lands on your slick heat and suddenly words are forgotten in favor of vague groaning. Because how can he accurately describe the sensation of this? Tasting you. God how has he gone so long without this? Your nails scraping his scalp, his fingers sinking into your thighs as he keeps you still. He’s halfway off the bed, legs dangling off the edge, your thighs squeezing his face. 

There’s nowhere else he would rather be. 

He laps at your folds like a mad man, tongue pressed flat and dragging up slowly to get as much of you in his mouth as possible. His feet find the floor, allowing himself more stability to once again rub his growing erection against a solid object. The poor mattress is going to be ruined once they’re done.

“Faster,” you gasp, jerking your hips into his face, “Spencer— oh, yeah like that!”

Spencer Reid is a quick study, and when he hears the positive reactions, he doubles down until he feels you convulse against his tongue. You jerk so violently he has to hold you down. He pushes his tongue past your entrance experimentally, and feels you tug roughly on his hair in response, gasping his name and God’s name in slurred phrases as you ride out your high.

It’s the hottest damn thing he’s ever experienced.

 “Jesus Christ,” you gasp, and he has to repeat that ridiculous sentence again, because it’s true and he feels you deserve it.

“You’re so pretty.” He fears you might be some kind of magnet, because his lips keep getting drawn back to your skin. He lets his kisses travel up your hip bone, before grinning up at you, “Even when you’re being insufferable, you’re still so beautiful.”

“Gee thanks,” you huff, pulling at his arm, “How romantic, I’m swooning.”

“Might not be swooning, but you did just come on my face.” brilliant rows of teeth flash at you as he smiles smugly.

“Asshole.”

“Is that how you say thank you?” he drags his body up lazily, draping himself over you.

“I’m not— wait, are you hard again?”

“Uh…”

“Needy, needy boy.” you pull him down to you, and he almost protests, his chin and mouth still covered with your slick. But you don’t seem to care, so he follows your lead, God at this point he would follow you anywhere at all. You’re shifting beneath him, and the next thing he knows is your legs are wrapped around his waist again, your heat completely exposed and pressing against his cock.

“Mhm,” he pulls back, eyes wide, “I—”

“What?” you whisper, lifting your head to continue giving him kisses, teeth playfully nipping at his jaw, “It’s fine, I’m on birth control.”

“It’s not that,” he can’t deny you, his body relaxing back down over you. His lips catch yours for a moment, slow and achingly tender, “I’ve just never really done this before.”

He waits for the inevitable laughter. Here he is, at 21, and somehow still the same person he had been when he first entered college at 14. But you continue to look at him with heavy lids, breathless and flushed. 

“Okay,” your voice is kind, sweet, “Take it slow then.” your hand wraps around his length again, the movement slower this time, as you align him to your entrance. He hisses as the sensitive tip grazes against your folds, as he feels your entrance slowly give way to him and envelop his cock. 

“Oh,” he sighs. With your help, he sinks halfway into you, one hand gripping your hip, the other bracing himself on his elbow. Eyes squeezed shut, he stills and manages to ask, “Are you okay?”

You don’t speak, and so he forces his eyes to focus and look at you. The sight has him twitching inside you. Mouth agape and eyes hazy, you’re nodding up at him wordlessly as your hips rock up into his. “More.”

It’s exhilarating. He’s known you for the past year, worked alongside you but respected your need for distance. And now, here you are, not merely close, but one. Spencer sighs, and thrusts shallowly, eyes zeroed in on you and your reactions. He doesn’t want to hurt you, doesn’t want it to end too soon, so he moves slowly, dragging out his cock until only the tip rests inside you, then sliding into the hilt.

It elicits the most mellifluous sounds from you, making him smile in relief. He lets his forehead rest against yours, thrusts growing more confident, but still in that slow, almost dreamy pace. He memorizes every detail of this moment, from the way your eyes flutter closed, to the quiver of your legs as they wrap tighter around his thighs. 

“So good,” he hears himself say, “God, you feel so good.”

“Mhm,” you nod, nails digging into his back, even through his clothes. In the heat of the moment, you’re both still half dressed, only getting rid of your bottom clothes in order to get what you need from each other, “More, Spencer, I need more.”

He nods, letting his thrusts grow faster, rougher. It’s an awkward angle, he’s afraid his knees will start cramping, but the feeling of being surrounded by your warmth, drowning in your moans has him reckless. “There?” he grunts, angling just so, and he can’t help the smirk on his face when he feels your walls clenching around him.

“There, there, yes!”

He’s not sure how he manages to last as long as he does. Maybe it’s the sheer desire to feel you fall apart, for his cock to be drenched in your slick that keeps his release at bay. Maybe he has too much pent up sexual energy that’s just been dying to come out. Whatever it is, he’s thankful for it, because it means he’s spending more time inside you, hips moving with so much impact he’s pushing you forward with each thrust. 

“Yes, just like that.” you’re shuddering beneath him, and he moves his arm to the top of your head, creating a barrier between you and the headboard so you don’t hit it. He could stop, readjust your positions, but he doesn’t have it in him. 

No, he wants to stay inside you, forever if there’s an anatomically feasible way to do it. But unless he invents it, he’ll settle for right now, settle for the heat between your bodies, and how you’re practically melting into the mattress, arching so prettily against him.

“You close?” he murmurs, one hand finding your clit, drawing gentle circles with his fingertips.

“No fair,” you whine, bucking into him, “That’s cheat— Spencer!” 

You come undone in the most enthralling way, eyes squeezed shut, bottom lip bitten by your own lips. You squeeze and flutter around him, and he’s helpless to stop his own release, spilling deep inside you with a broken cry from his own mouth. Your name is whispered, over and over again, until he stills, his vision blurry as he collapses against you.

He curls around you, trying to get as close, “You—that was—wow.” 

You giggle, still breathless and glassy eyed, “Are you sure that was your first time?”

“Yes,” he gives you a series of kisses along your temple, “Yes, it was. You—wow.” he carefully pulls out of you, hissing quietly when the cool air conditioned air hits his sensitive flesh. “Was that enough of an apology for not including you to our chess nights?”

“You’re making jokes now?”

“No,” he smiles, leaning away to look at you, all starry eyed and boneless, “Not a joke. Because if it’s not enough, I can do it again.” a kiss to your cheek, “And again.” one on the tip of your nose, “And again.”

When you laugh in response, he cups your cheek, “I mean it.” he says with all the seriousness he can muster.

“I’ll hold you to that.”

“Does this mean you’ll accept my invitations now?” he lights up, a large smile splitting his face.

“Only if it’s a date.”

"Then it's a date."

[sugurusfavemonkey]

HIGH ACHIEVER - ONE: HOW TO BE A TEAM PLAYER

summary: You've always prided yourself on your grades but when Suguru enters the scene, competing for the top spot in your major becomes more than just a matter of honor. What happens when you're forced to work together on a long project (and so what if he happens to be just your type)? pairing: Geto Suguru x reader word count: 2k content: college AU; academic rivals to lovers; short series; mutual hatred attraction; afab!reader; angst/comfort; reader is described as being shorter than Suguru (but then again, the man is about 6'3' so who isn't?); smut (in future chapters - MDNI) ♪playlist♪ +more Jujutsu Tech College AU

Suguru Geto was the very apex of campus. 

Not only was he a big name in the basketball courts, but Geto was also the most skillful martial artist and exceeded in every single class he took, being among the top students in the academy. He was cocky but never unkind. In fact, Geto's amiability was a matter of admiration throughout the grounds. As if that hadn't been enough, he was beautiful. With his tall frame, broad shoulders, silky black hair, perfect complexion, kind caramel eyes, nihilistic smile… He was also the utter and absolute bane of your existence. 

It seemed to give him the utmost joy to counter every single point you brought up in the classes you shared or to find and point out inconsistencies in your arguments. In other words: he lived to antagonize you.

You didn't even care about being valedictorian; it was nothing but a title - who were you kidding? Gojo would be getting that anyway, the boy simply didn't know how to lose. Not even Geto could surpass his GPA and ranking position combined - but you did pride yourself on your grades and learning. It's why you even attended college to begin with: it's the goal, isn't it?

The problem began when Suguru decided to make it his business always to show you up. If you were happy about your 98% on a test, he just had to point out his 99. If you accurately responded to a question made by the professor, he felt obligated to mention details you had "seemingly forgotten".

It was frankly maddening.

"Sometimes the best solutions come from intuition and an understanding of the specific circumstances of the case - it requires flexibility." you spoke when asked about evidence-based practices in class. Mr. Yaga nodded complacently and took a breath as if preparing to launch into another rhetoric when there was a loud sneer.

You knew that sound well enough it immediately caused your spine to stiffen. You didn't even have to turn on your seat to find its source.

"Anything you'd like to share, Mr. Geto?" the professor promptly asked, arms crossing in front of his chest as one of his dark eyebrows shot up above the black sunglasses that were usually covering his stern eyes.

Of course he had. Geto always had. You rolled your eyes, already anticipating his antithesis. Countering your arguments were his favorite pastime after all.

"Yes, actually," you felt his eyes burning on the back of your head, but you refused to turn and give him the satisfaction. "Relying on gut feeling when people’s lives and well-being are at stake is… precarious. Evidence-based practice relies on proven methods, which is exactly what we need: tested and effective approaches." You could almost hear the arrogant smugness in the tone of his voice and your anger bubbled over to the point of spilling.

"So you'd prefer to overlook important nuances? People are individuals, not statistics. Using averages when each case is different is inadequate at best." You retorted as you twisted in your seat, your indignant eyes meeting his cool ones.

"Mrs-" The professor tried to stop the argument before it picked up, but it was already too late the moment you decided to counter Geto. He knew exactly what the result usually was. Every member of the docent body was aware of the rivalry between you.

"All that sounds lovely, very idyllic. But we should remain grounded in measurable outcomes, not guesswork, sweetheart." Geto spoke in his usual smooth cadency, but the disdainful undertone was not lost on you. He had this complacent closed-lip smile that grated your nerves on.

You scoffed at the belittling term of endearment he used, "A more creative, personalized approach builds trust and leads to success."

"And how do you plan to measure this success?"

"Success cannot be measured by research."

"And you suggest not relying on research? That is irresponsible."

"That is not what I-"

"Enough!" Mr. Yaga bellowed, clearly having had enough of the back and forth between the two of you. You clamped your mouth shut, embarrassment making your skin warm. "As much as all of your points are valid and very pertinent to our subject matter, you're letting your nerves get the best of you. I wish to continue my lecture now though." He paused gaze moving from you to Geto, "unless that would inconvenience either of you, of course."

You let your body slide down on your chair so as to avoid the attention still feeling Geto's gaze lingering on you. You hated that you let yourself be moved by his obvious bait, that you coulddn't help but rise to the occasion whenever he so much as breathed in your general vicinity. You wished you could say you had better self-control but you simply did not. It's a pain and a chore really.

The lecture picked back up after your humiliating schtick without further incidents… mostly because you decided not to chime in anymore. And, of course, without you to counterattack, Geto felt it would be pointless to partake in the discussion. Asshole.

You sighed in relief when the professor dismissed the class, quickly throwing your laptop and water bottle inside your bag and making a beeline to the door when he called your name followed by Geto's.

"I'd like to speak to both of you for a moment."

"I have to get to my next class-" you started to protest, hands tightening on the strap of your bag when he interrupted you:

"It'll only take a minute, Mrs."

You sighed and timidly moved closer to his desk, fingers still fidgeting. You could feel Geto's presence right beside you, but refused to even glance his way.

"This feuding between you is getting out of hand. I'd like to ask you to take it easy on the altercations from now on. You both make valid points most of the time, you should learn to compromise every now and then. Being this intransigent will get you nowhere in life." Mr. Yaga glare had you cowering slightly, shoulders hunching in. "You two are my best students in this subject so I decided to pair you up for a special semester-long project. That should teach you a little bit about accommodating the other's needs."

"What?!" you nearly choked on your spit.

"I want you to write a paper evaluating the impact of local outreach programs. It'll be worth 25% of your final grades. I'll email you the details. You're dismissed."

"Profes-" once more you tried to object but Yaga gave you no chance to even finish your thought:

"I said you're dismissed." He stood his ground, not bothering to even look at you as he started stacking the papers on his desk.

You huffed in annoyance and marched out of the auditorium. You heard Geto's steps and tried to walk ahead of him, avoiding the consequential conversation after receiving such horrid news but he easily caught up to you with his stupid long legs.

"Give me your phone." his velvety voice demanded. You stopped in the middle of the corridor and he did the same, turning his body to you, proudly crowding in on you and towering over your form, mindless of the other people walking past form both directions.

"What? No," you scoffed indignantly. Geto sighed and rolled his eyes, clearly regretting this exchange as much as you.

"I'm just gonna add my number to your contacts. As much as I'm dreading this, it is not the kind of project we can just work on separately and then put it all together. It should be seamless."

That made you pause. You really couldn't argue with that sentiment. Still, you were so used to it that you couldn't help but affronting Geto: "Huh. I didn't think you had it in you to be reasonable."

"Ha. Ha. Very funny." He deadpanned. You did hand over your phone after unlocking it and opening the contact info page after a second of hesitation when you found no hidden agenda behind his demeanor.

"Just type in your number so we can get this over with. I'd like to get this over with as soon as possible. My daily quota of you is already blown over." You said as you crossed your arms in front of your chest.

Your words had the opposite of the expected reaction though as you saw the moment his smile turned predatory. You steeled yourself for his upcoming retort but none came.

Your eyes instantaneously flitted to the strand of hair that fell off his half-up hairdo and covered his left eye as he lowered his head to type on your phone. You hated that if anyone ever critiqued a man bun that's because they had never seen Suguru Geto's. That man sure knew how to pull off one of the most controversial hairstyles to ever exist. You couldn't imagine there was something he wouldn't be able to pull off, to be honest… what a shame he had to be an insufferable asshole.

"That implies you need at least a small amount of me in your day." you were so enraptured in your analysis of his hair that you almost missed his jab.

"No, I-" you scowled in disgust, nearly ripping the unoffending device from his offering hand once he turned it back your way. "In your dreams, Geto."

He only hummed in response, that stupid smirk on his face. Again.

"Fuck you, Geto," you threw over your shoulder as you turned on your heel, not wasting any more time before heading for your next class.

"I'll text you, sweetheart!" He called after you, the sound of his laughter following.

You ground your teeth together in anger, your face feeling uncharacteristically warm. You only let yourself check your phone after you turned a corner so you were absolutely certain you were no longer in his field of vision. You stared in perplexity at the name he saved his number under.

"I can't believe this pretentious douchebag had the audacity… most brilliant colleague my ass!"

You were switching up his name in your contacts to 'arrogant prick n2' instead when you heard your friend's voice calling you over.

"Where were you? The class starts in less than a minute and you know how Gakuganji gets with laggers," her short dyed blonde hair swayed as she glanced from your approaching form to the open double doors to the lecture hall by her right.

You rushed towards Akari with a quick apology and a "what are you doing out here then?"

"It's not as if his lectures are ever full." She shrugged easily flitting her arm to yours so you could enter together.

"Noted."

The two of you easily found and occupied a couple of seats by the back right before Gakuganji launched into a dull monologue on the psychological effects of music on the brain, which could have been an interesting subject if it wasn't taught by someone closer to a mummy than a human with the most boring cadency to his voice.

"Did Yaga hold over the class?" Akari mumbled the question as she set up her laptop.

"Held me over, you mean," you murmured back. You felt her questioning gaze settle on you, so you decided to further explain, "he wants me to work on some big project about local outreach programs."

"That sounds like a lot of work, why only you?"

"Not only me. Something about learning to concede or some shit like that."

"What is that supposed to mean?"

"Well, apparently I have been too intransigent with Geto and now we gotta learn to work together."

She let out a loud sound, a mix between laughter and a snort which immediately had Gakuganji dark eyes turning your way.

"Sorry!" Akari winced, "I, uhn, chocked.

The professor huffed and you waited for some sort of reprimand, but he only got right back into his spiel.

"You're joking? You mean to say you have to work with Suguru Geto?"

"Unfortunately."

"Well, say goodbye to Jujutsu Tech, because the two of you are about to wreck this whole school."

She wasn't wrong.

next >>

Jujutsu Tech College AU taglist: @indiewritesxoxo @nanasukii28

[bi-planeandsimple]

I want to highlight a point made above that is incredibly incorrect “Stop changing the subject to conditions inside American prisons which are obviously able to be changed without having zero prisons.”

the conditions inside American prisons are not “obviously” able to be changed. Just like cops cannot obviously be reformed. If that’s the case, why hasn’t it happened in the 160 years of prisons post the 13th Amendment passing? Ditto with cops - why are all good cops Serpico’ed to this day? Why do cops still get away with murder and abuse? Why do prison guards? Because the brutality and racism and dehumanization are the point. They have been baked into these institutions from the get-go, and cannot be removed. It’s not an external boil that can be removed, it’s a foundational building block of the criminal Justice system.

We cannot talk about reforming prisons to improve their conditions seriously when the general American population has been so steeped in anti-criminal propaganda, and anti-black racism, anything that does not actively harm criminals - like providing air conditioning in a prison that routinely gets over 100 degrees, even when inmates are dying of heat stroke - is seen as a reward or luxury, instead of a human right. Many prisons in the south still do not have AC for this reason. Not to mention making it difficult for prisoners to see friends and family, to save money they earn, or to read books or watch movies (which can all cost money - money that inmates don’t have).

I mentioned the 13th Amendment above. That’s because the text of the 13th Amendment states “Neither slavery nor involuntary servitude, except as punishment for crime whereof the party shall have been duly convicted, shall exist within the United States, or any place subject to their jurisdiction” slavery was never 100% abolished in the US or its territories - it only changed shape. It is not a coincidence so many black men and women are in prison. “Duly convicted” is a joke. It was not common for black men to serve on juries for decades in the south under Jim Crow, so how could black defendants be “duly convicted” by all-white juries? Not to mention all the barriers to hiring a good defense attorney - which still exist today. There will always be ways to circumvent “duly convicted” - remember the different mandatory minimums for the same exact drug? Crack cocaine vs powder? Bc one was used more by black peoples and the other was used more by white people?

i mean, The US still has territories!! Aka colonies! They have no voting rights but we can extract their resources from them and use them as cannon fodder in our armies. We are still literally a colonial power, of course white supremacy is baked in to all our institutions. slave masters never cared about the comfort or human rights of their slaves. So how can we “obviously” expect there to be real, meaningful reform of a system that exists to benefit American companies (providing free labor Aka slavery) as well as the current white supremacist power structure that is active in America to this day. This is why we cannot meaningfully talk about “reform” of prison- its antithetical to the purpose of prison. Reforming prison is like teaching a fish to walk. There’s a reason the fish isn’t walking - it was made for the ocean. Prison was made to grievously harm people, mostly black people. It was not built to protect society and certainly not to help victims. Harming people whether they are guilty or not and no matter what they are guilty of is it’s purpose. It has to be abolished completely. Abolitionists knew slavery could not be reformed - it had to be killed. Because slavery is antithetical to morality and humanity. It’s antithetical to the human rights every single person is born with, whether they are respected and acknowledged or not.

it benefits those in power for criminals to be seen as less than human. They can throw anyone in prison, can target any undesirable individual or group, (usually black people or Latinos, but also the mentally ill and more and more trans people) and then not be held accountable for how the prisoners are treated. Because the politician can say “well look, they committed a crime! They were “duly convicted” right?” Even if the whole trial was a sham. And then the inmates can be used for their labor - for free. Prisoners are forgotten and forsaken. They cannot vote while they are in prison, even though politics directly determines their fate - and often even after they have paid their debt to society, still cannot vote to affect the country they live in. Not to mention encouraging abuses of power against the powerless, guards against prisoners. Medical care withheld. Not providing a clean or safe place to sleep. Traumatizing prisoners with social isolation to the extreme. Prison does not reduce crime but then it was never supposed to. We cannot trust any government with the power to imprison anyone. Especially not a government in a white supremacist country like the United States. Racism cannot be divorced from the prison system. Racism - and specifically in this case white supremacy - is evil and so is prison, as it is primarily a tool of white supremacy.

[mswolfette]

LMK Sun Wukong Passive Suicidal Ideation Theory Part 1: Wukong's Self Sacrifices

TW: Suicide, Suicidal Ideation

Sun Wukong is a fascinating character. A character who is as selfish as he is selfless. Despite his flaws, his selflessness has no bounds, especially when it comes to saving the world or the people they care about. Sometimes it can be considered selfless to the point of self-destruction. Save others than yourself. There's been something that's been at the back of my head regarding Wukong ever since the beginning of S3. It was an interesting thought, but ever since S4 and especially S5 (and esp the last 2 episodes). Heck someone even played it off as a dark joke. But that brings me up to my theory/possible hc: Sun Wukong has possible passive suicidal ideation.

(Note: I am not a professional in either the JTTW or in the medical field and I'm basically my theory off of some of the symptoms I've researched combined with how Wukong acts in the show. So please take this with a grain of salt).

Alright, so let's define Su1c1dal Ideation.

According to CharlieHealth, "Passive Suicidal Ideation refers to having thoughts of death without a clear plan or intent to actively end your own life..." and according to Meghan Jensen of Clear Health it can "occur when an individual no longer has the motivation to live, but does not have a clear plan to take their life."

With Wukong, he definitely seems to fall somewhat under a lack of motivation to live, as there are several times he has gone on record with being either incredibly reckless with his life engaging in several acts of attempted self-sacrifice:

Strike 1 (Getting the Samadhi Fire Map):

During the flashback fight between Wukong and Ne Zha in s3e1, Wukong is about to reach into the Lotus Scroll. However, Wukong mentions that breaking the seal on the Lotus Scroll has the potential to destroy them both (despite both characters being immortal figures). Wukong's reaction to this is interesting, as he just quietly smiles and affirms that by saying. "I know." He even cracks a joke at that, willingly taking the hit anyways, regardless of the consequences to his well-being (and to a minor sense Ne Zha's). He disregards his well-being for the greater good, ready to die for something as drastic as this.

Strike 2: Wukong's Intended Samadhi Fire Plan

This leans more into the hidden implications but its still pretty prevalent. In s3e10, when the Samadhi Fire ritual was completed, turning Mei into the fourth ring, he reveals his plan to get the Samadhi Fire.

His plan was to intend to possibly start the ritual and transfer the Samadhi Fire into himself to control and destroy the Lady Bone Demon. This for all intensive purposes and can be implied to be a suicide mission.

Referring to some of the knowledge I have from the JTTW, the Samadhi Fire is one of the few fires Wukong can get incredibly wounded by, as he even got incapicated from it during one of his battles. And bringing up the LMK lore within itself Ne Zha mentioned that the reason only Mei was kept alive was because of her dragon heritage, mentioning that everyone else could've burned into a crisp. It was a fire so strong even Wukong alone couldn't put out, and we see how powerful it was to greatly charr MK once and knock him back.

And Wukong knows that he cant necessarily handle it. He's not dumb, he's all too aware about the Samadhi Fire and its danger. This was a plan he was fully intended to never come back from.

Strike 2.5: Fighting Despite the Odds

This is not as prevalent as the other two but its still noticeable. In s3e10, Wukong continues to make the risky self-sacrificing play by going on his own. The odds have never been more stacked against him, rather letting himself get taken down than the others. Even if Ne Zha believes that the chances are slim.

Strike 3: Wukong's Closest Sacrifice

Wukong makes the play to sacrifice himself, as he realizes that MK will commit that sacrifice at all costs. No ifs, and, or buts about it. It seems like the way out for him, with the idea being this will for the better in order to protect the person who's unconditionally cared for him the most.

While these sacrifices show a lot about Wukong as a character, there's also how he tends to talk about himself occasionally. He has major self worth issues. There are three instances of this clear and simple.

However that's for Part 2.

I do hope you like this despite the dark topic manner.

[badgeredwrites]

ᴀᴜᴛʜᴏʀ’s ɴᴏᴛᴇ: Holy shit. Look at me starting strong with a stalker Barty… And considering I am the self-proclaimed love of his life, I thought it was fitting. Anyways, this is a concept I’d definitely love to explore in the future. Let me know what you think! ᡣ𐭩

ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢ: Exploration of Stalking & Obsessive Behaviors, Mentions of Borderline Personality Disorder, Emotional Manipulation, Brief Abusive Parental Relationships

ᴡᴏʀᴅ ᴄᴏᴜɴᴛ: 657

⋆｡°✩ Concept: Stalker!Barty

Alright, so, I finished reading Lights Out by Navessa Allen recently and since my mind automatically goes to everything Marauders related, I asked myself: Out of everyone in the Marauders Era, who would most be like Josh?

The only person who came to mind was, of course, none other than Barty Crouch Jr. There are several reasons for this… Let me explain.

Imagine:

Modern AU where technology becomes prevalent in everyday life, including in the wizarding community.

Barty Crouch Jr, the son of a well-known politician who favors his public image and reputation over everything else, having absolutely no online presence due to his father’s strict rules.

However, despite this, he’s drawn to muggle technology and since his father is not only emotionally absent but also neglectful, he’s essentially left to his own devices. Which gives him the perfect opportunity to explore his interest in tech (and develop an anonymous online persona—we’ll come back to this in a moment).

Canonically speaking, Barty is one of the most brilliant people in the Harry Potter series. He was sorted into Ravenclaw and received all twelve O.W.L.s. Not to mention, he was also able to live as Mad-Eye Moody under Polyjuice potion for months without being detected.

With this information in mind, it’s safe to say he would be quite skilled in the field of technology. It wouldn’t take long for him to hone his abilities.

Now, back to the anonymous online persona, I feel like it would be safe to assume that Barty would have quite the rebellious streak. He, truthfully, could not care less about his father’s reputation. However, in order to avoid the man’s wrath (because let’s be real, Bartemius Sr was most definitely an abusive piece of shit) and with the growing popularity of masked accounts online, he seizes his opportunity to participate in the trend.

This ultimately leads to him becoming one of the most popular accounts, but the attention he garnishes is nothing more than an ego boost to him. That is until someone eventually catches his eye.

Personally, I’ve always thought that it would be possible for Barty to have undiagnosed Borderline Personality Disorder (BPD), which can lead to obsessive tendencies (extending towards platonic relationships, not just romantic).

This man would also be the type to have avoidant attachment issues due to the lack of care regarding his emotional needs as a child.

So, when his attention is caught by this individual online, his thoughts are literally consumed by them.

Through the usage of technology and his vast understanding of it, the stalking would start small. With a quick search about them online he would be able to start compiling information regarding their interests, the locations they frequent, their personal relationships, etc.

Of course, this behavior would quickly escalate.

Remember, Barty has an anonymous online persona. Nobody—not even his closest friends—knows of the identity behind his masked account, so this would give him a major advantage. He would have the ability to “coincidentally” appear in the places this individual visits most often.

Which, in turn, allows him to develop a personal relationship with his victim.

Unfortunately for Barty, due to his struggles with BPD, I do believe he would find it difficult to establish a relationship with them at first. After all, he’s quite standoffish person when it comes to new people.

However, equipped with the knowledge he gained through his online stalking, he would be able to use this to his advantage to slowly gain their trust.

In my opinion, it would only be when he establishes a bond with his victim that the monitoring begins.

Perhaps he gifts them something small, such as a key chain or hair clip that actually has a tracker inside of it… Or, once he finally is invited over and places inconspicuous cameras around their home, allowing him footage from every angle.

There are honestly so many things that could be done with Barty as a stalker (and I intend to explore them all).

[anontheghost]

So... What is the deal with Blitz's and Moxxie's upbringing?

Let's start by saying the obvious: Blitz’s and Moxxie’s families are almost exact mirrors to each other: They both have terrible, greedy fathers who just enjoy making their lives miserable and amazing dead mothers who we know nothing about except their cause of death and how much they are missed by their sons. 

The only significant distinctions are that Moxxie's story is splattered with glossy mafia paint and that his mother was drowned while he was still a very young child. On the other hand, Blitz's mother, Tilla, died when he was a teenager and was burned to death. The rest? Pretty much the same.

However, the similarities between their backstories are not really the problem; after all, in real life, we can find people who lived through similar traumas and that is a pretty interesting aspect to explore in fantastical stories as well. 

Many other shows have done it incredibly well (Bojack Horseman) but Helluva Boss failed in that department. 

The very interesting family dynamics were only bought at the surface level, not explored in any meaningful way except to give the characters “cheap trauma moments” that could potentially get ruined by either the insertion of out of place comedy or never mentioned again. 

How am I supposed to treat Crimson’s abuse of Moxxie as something serious when the minute before dildos popped out the walls for a joke? How did Blitz’s guilt over the fire and his mother’s death truly affect his relationships—romantic or otherwise? Was it all just a narrative plot to drag the Stolitz charade for as many episodes as possible? Heck, we do not even see Blitz and Mooixe interact more about their shared trauma! Or about how much they missed their mothers.

It is a little depressing because, despite knowing nothing about Moxxie and Blitz's mothers, we, the viewer, are expected to care about them and see their significance. Instead we are left with a million questions that will probably never have an answer. 

Were they really good parents or are their sons only remembering the good parts of their relationship because they are dead? 

How did they truly influence their kids? Did Moxxie’s love for musical theater come from his mother? Did Blitz’s fascination for horses be because of Tilla or was it someone else?

How was their relationship with their husbands and why did they stay even after the marriage went south? What brought them together in the first place? Because, in all honesty, both couples just don't seem compatible in any way, that one just can help but ask how did everything worked.

Sadly, we can only speculate. 

So, without further due, these are my speculations. Part of the great rewrite that I am doing of the series. Because sometimes terrible writing decisions just move my creative juices in the right direction. 

Tilla and Cash Buckzo.  “I do love you, as much as I am capable of loving anyone, which is never enough.”

What would have happened if Princess Carolyn and Bojack Horseman ignored all the red flags in their relationship and chose to get married anyway? That wouldn’t have been good, but that is exactly what happened to Tilla and Cash Buckzo—the result was a messy marriage where love could not overcome their different views on life and incompatible personalities.

So... why did they stay in a marriage that was not working? Simple, a divorce would mean financial ruin for both of them.

Let me explain. 

(Worldbuilding note: How marriage functions and how people in Hell generally view it is one aspect of the Hellaverse that truly baffles me. To avoid confusion, each ring in this revision will have its own set of marital norms and perspectives.)

(In the Greed Ring, marriage is nothing more than another business transaction and is treated as such. Two individuals may absolutely hate each other, but if the marriage will benefit them economically, then they will go through with it.)

The sole compelling argument for Cash and Tilla's marriage was that it was the wisest course of action to maintain and save their respective livelihoods. Imps are not permitted to own companies (as I stated in the Stolitz Non-Romance rewrite.) and in the Greed Ring, Mammon owns ALL of the entertainment industry (circuses included) and he will not hesitate to shut down a circus if it is not bringing the profit.

The small circuses Cash and Tilla were supervising were on the brink of bankrupsy, so what better solution than to marry each other and combine their assets? It will give them more time to survive.

In hindsight, their plan worked perfectly; Tilla and Cash were able to build up themselves financially, and using their combined business talents, they were able to expand their new big renovated circus and turn in a profit that would keep Mammon off their backs. 

They were great business partners, but as a couple, they lacked a lot. 

They did occasionally have tender moments, but they were squandered by arguments, lengthy silences, and extremely uncomfortable dinners. At one point, they even began sleeping in different beds, just to avoid fighting. Everybody who knew them could see that they were just not good for each other and could barely tolerate the other presence.

This begs the question: How did they manage to have Blitz and Barbie?

The decision to have a kid was straightforward and, like their marriage, based on business. They wanted a successor to take over their responsibilities when they died, as it was something now needed as the circus grew. So one night, they decided to get drunk and just get it over with.

But, to the surprise of themselves and everyone else, Tilla and Cash were their best selves throughout the pregnancy. 

During those four months that the pregnancy lasted, Cash and Tilla acted like a happy couple, anxiously waiting for the arrival of their beloved baby. They no longer fought; they were just too busy happily imagining a future where the three of them would be happy while preparing for their child.

Maybe everything would be okay; their relationship could only get better from now on, right? Once their beautiful little girl arrives, they will be a complete family of three with no intentions of adding more. 

Yikes.

In their defence, there are few medical facilities available to imps, and when they attended the controls, the physicians informed them that they would only be having one child, Barbie.

Their budget and plans were severely ruined by Blitz's unexpected arrival because they were only ready to provide full care for one baby, not two. If Mammon kept the majority of the profits, how would they be able to buy two of everything? 

They would endure a long period of hardship and didn’t they enter this marriage to prevent just that?!

Tilla, being the mother and the one who gave birth, accepted this change, promising to love both children equally; sadly, Cash didn’t.

It didn’t take too long before they started fighting again, even if it was in front of their kids. As you can imagine, growing up with parents who fought even for the most minimal of problems leaves a long-lasting impression on a child and how they will handle their own relationships in the future. 

To this day, Barbie still has problems telling her girlfriends when something is wrong or is upsetting her. On the other hand, Blitz gets overwhelmed when he notices things going south in a relationship and leaves it all together. 

Things didn’t really improve much as the twins grew up. 

Sure, the family had their relative moments of peace, but Cash only paid real love and attention to Barbie, being the child he really wanted while completely ignoring Blitz. Tilla, upset about this but knowing that Cash won’t change, tried to give more attention to her son, accidentally ignoring her daughter’s needs.

Yes, Tilla was not a “perfect, angelic mother," canon portrayed her as. If anything, she was a little bit overbearing when it came to Blitz, as she felt she needed to make up for his father’s abandonment. She genuinely believed that Barbie didn’t need her as much, and the girl liked to spend more time with her father anyway, who needed to train her to take over the circus.

At this point, their family was divided into two separate families that just happened to live in the same house: one consisted of a kind but overprotective mother and her son; the other, a strict but understanding father and his daughter/heir. The only point in which Tilla and Cash interacted was when they worked on the circus, or when they were fighting for the most minimal things. 

Their family dynamic was mostly like that... until Tilla died.

Blitz remembers only the good moments he spent with her, looking at her actions and life with rose-colored glasses of love. For him, Tilla was the perfect mother who basically could do no wrong. 

However, if you ask Barbie, she’ll say that while she is sad that her mother passed away, she is unable to truly feel devastated since she never knew the woman well enough. Barbie is even a bit resentful for the times Tilla chose to spend time with Blitz instead of her.

And with Cash... How would you think Bojack would react if PC died before him? 

Now… what about Moxxie’s family?

Crimson and Belia (Name I am giving Moxxie’s mom)

"You better grow up to be something great, to make up for all the damage you done."

One particular thing that I noticed about Crimson is how young he looks despite being Moxxie’s dad. If I knew nothing about Helluva Boss and someone showed me a picture of those two, I would 100% believe they are siblings, not father and son.

While we can attribute this to Vivzie's inability to draw older men, why not play with this?

Let's set up the stage.

When Moxxie entered the picture, Crimson and Belia were just seventeen years old and not even dating. However, I suppose that when you are a careless teenager, the consequences of forgetting the condom don't truly hit you until something goes wrong.

As one may expect, Crimson was not happy with the news and was even more angry when Belia told him that she wanted to keep the baby and sustained her ground no matter how many times Crimson told her to get rid of the pregnancy. Why not? They were both fucking teenagers, just fooling around and he had no intentions of becoming a father, at least not this young! What was truly stopping her?

Nobody truly knows why Belia chose to keep her son to this day. 

When alive, she would tell you without a doubt that she loved her child from the first moment and couldn't bear to let him go, even in the face of less than perfect circumstances. But Moxxie hasn't believed that version of the story in a very long time. 

Moxxie now thinks that the main reason why Belia had him was because she didn't want to endure the awful and harsh conditions of an Imp Health Center. Due to the horrible way the doctors treated the imp patients, lack of medicine and equipment, most imps avoided those places like the plage.

Unfortunately, sick imps had no other choice but to go to the centers for treatment. Because if an imp even dares to step a hoof on the more well equipped hospitals in Sloth or Lust, they would be immediately kicked out no matter the emergency.

For more serious issues, wealthy imps (like Crimson's family) would hire a private physician. However, Belia was aware that Crimson would never spend that kind of money on her. 

Or maybe Belia didn’t want to give Crimson the satisfaction of getting out of his responsibilities. 

When Crimson's own father learned about the, at that point, already advanced pregancy, he forced Crimson and Belia to get married. Given the Knowlastname family's significant power in Greed's imp neighborhoods, Crimson's status as an unmarried young father would be viewed as a shameful scandal.

Belia only consented to the marriage because she had nowhere else to go. When her parents found out that their seventeen-year-old daughter was expecting, they were so disappointed that they disinherited and prohibited her from ever returning home.

(Later, when I rewrite Exes and Oh's, I will go into more detail about what Crimson’s family does in the Greed Ring. They are still involved in “less than legal” practices and loan sharking, but is a little bit different than in canon since now I based the Greed Ring in the entertainment industry.)

Of course, as one may expect, things in that marriage went south real fast. 

Every time Crimson looked at Moxxie and Belia, he saw nothing but the two demons who took away his carefree teenhood together with the respect of his father, and with each passing year, he just became more and more cruel. At one point, he simply started physically abusing his wife, who always put herself as a buffer between Moxxie and Crimson.

If Belia dared to raise her voice against her husband, Crimson would merely tell her that the opportunity to leave him went away the minute she decided to bring “that brat” into hell without his permission. Now she was just reaping what she sowed.

Being physically and mentally abused by her husband (who, as a bonus, also turned everyone in the household against her) took a toll on Belia’s mental health. She still wanted to be the best mother she could be, but how can you raise a child in an environment where everybody sees them as the enemy? When your mind makes your body so heavy that getting out of bed becomes an impossible task?

More than once, Belia considered taking her son and moving back to Wrath. But then, to where? Her parents didn’t want to see her; she lost contact with her friends, and since she never finished school, she had no hireable qualities. How would she support herself and Mooxie if she decides to leave? Being a single imp mother in hell is not easy!

It was impossible! At this point, she just needed to endure. 

She will not let Crimson win; she will not let that man break her and Moxxie. While Crimson was definitely stronger than her, putting on a smile after a beating that sent Crimson into a frustrated frenzy was all she needed to feel she had won, even if her body stated otherwise.

There were also the times she and Moxxie went on hikes together, pretending that they were going on a grand adventure as far away from Crimson as possible. Being happy when Crimson didn’t want them to was the little act of rebellion she needed to stay sane.

However, Belia’s breaking point came after Moxxie’s seventh birthday, just a few months after Crimson’s father died, when her “beloved” husband brought home another pregnant imp. 

Belia was no idiot; she knew that her husband had been cheating on her for years, but she never said anything because she didn’t care enough to do it. So, Crimson had a side piece? big deal, she stopped loving him a long time ago. 

However, it was too much to bear to watch Crimson, a guy she believed to be utterly cruel, be a loving and caring partner to this imp and be so thrilled about the birth of their cherished child.

I mean, when you witness the same man who repeatedly denigrated your son, cursed and beat you for being pregnant, joyfully decorating a nursery while choosing baby names and spoiling his new partner, whom he never raised his voice at, it can and will break something in you. 

Ultimately, what could be worse? Accepting that your partner will never change? Or realizing that you were never worth the positive change they could bring about?

What did she do wrong?

Moxxie still doesn’t know what happened to his mom; what is certain is that one day he woke up and she was not there. While part of him is sure that Crimson killed her so he could marry his new partner, there is a part of him, small but loud, that tells him that Belia abandoned him at the mercy of his father. 

Why would she not? Moxxie knows that he looks a lot like Crimson, so it was possible that at some point, his poor mother couldn’t look at him anymore without remembering her abuser. He is also familiar with the sad reality that, if Belia tried escaping with him, the possibilities of re-doing her life with a kid on her toe would have been very slim.

Not to mention impossible.

After his mother disappeared, Moxxie became a ghost in his own house. Apart from giving orders and degrading him, Crimson was more focused on his new family and new children to “waste energy” in a son he never wanted. While Moxxie’s step-parent was not physically violent, their constant degrading of Belia and their attempts to erase all trace of her existence really put Moxxie on edge.

Sadly, he couldn’t say anything because the first and only time Mooxie tried to go against their wishes, Crimson put a stop to that real fast. 

Moxxie had to see firsthand how Crimson was a true, loving father to his stepsiblings. He listened to them constantly, never yelled at them, and never struck them—things he never did with his first kid. He also made sure to teach them how their big brother was nothing but a failure and to stay clear of him since “wimpyness” could be contagious.

Moxxie wishes he could know them better.

0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o00o00

And this is all for today. I will give more information about Mooxie’s family (as well as his relationship with Chaz) when I rewrite Exes and Oh’s. Remember that these are mostly my first draft thoughts and can and probably will be changed for the final product. 

I hope you enjoy! I love when you comment!

[blablablayup]

One issue is that the trans community does NOT apply this logic to the issues which they refuse to acknowledge affect cis women. HRT is an extremely necessary medical intervention for many cis women undergoing menopause and experience various gynecological health conditions. However, I have never heard a trans person even ONCE mention it as anything other than an exclusively-trans thing.

This is also an example of why it was so very harmful to erase all the words we have to describe biological sex. “People with uteruses” is not an adequate or accurate descriptor. Why? Because:

1.) It’s too long. People stop talking about our bodies, our experiences, and our rights when the only language they have for it involves repeating a long phrase over and over. Trans people are aware of the power of catchy taglines - you know how important it is to have efficient language. But the trans community has completely robbed female people of that language. I have been yelled at and harassed by trans people for using the word “female”, in reference to my OWN body, even back when I identified as trans. I even tried to create new words, but trans women objected at every turn, because they insisted to me directly that biological sex IS NOT real and that we need to “stop talking about it”. Your issue about the use of the word “women” could have been resolved if we just had a word like “female”, but the trans community has erased all such words. That’s why I left.

2.) Female people who don’t have a uterus are ALSO affected. The trans community’s insistence on reducing us to individual body parts (instead of allowing for an actual word to describe our sex) betrays an ignorance of how female bodies actually work. We’re a whole being, not individual parts that can be considered in a vacuum. People who are female and who do not have a uterus can experience ectopic pregnancies and die from these laws. They are also being harmed by the overall reduction in the already sparse medical care available for other gynecological health issues, which go hand in hand with abortion care resources.

Please notice that in the trans community, I could not have written this response. Because the word “female” has been forbidden, except in reference to trans women. I know that from experience being harassed over it when I was in the trans community for years, desperately trying to be as inclusive as possible and timidly mentioning my own body in the context of an urgent medical need. In the trans community, this response wouldn’t exist. I wouldn’t have been able to educate you about the harms this does and the risks to female people without a uterus, because there is no accepted word for female. That’s a tremendous problem.

I have hope that maybe the trans community will get better one day. For now, I’ve had to leave it. Because the aggression directed at me for mentioning my body exists has been unimaginable.

I’m going to try to articulate this in a way that perhaps everyone will understand.

I don’t think it’s helpful to discuss who is “targeted” by any particular policy. I think it’s more helpful to discus who that policy affects.

Abortion bans affect everyone with a uterus.

In the USA, statistically, most people with a uterus are perisex cis women. This means that the majority of people affected by an abortion ban will be perisex cis women.

However

The largest group is not necessarily the demographic most at risk.

I do not say “perisex cis women as a collective” here because I’m an intersectional feminist and I know that no such collective actually exists. Perisex cis women experience a kaleidoscope of intersecting risk factors that can make them more or less vulnerable to reproductive harm.

And taking intersectionality into account, we have to acknowledge that trans and intersex people with uteruses face additional risks when accessing abortion compared to perisex cis women. This may mean certain trans and intersex individuals may have higher risks than some perisex cis women.

Acknowledging this increased risk isn’t ignoring perisex cis women or erasing them from the discussion. It’s just acknowledging the most vulnerable among us.

[belovedivies]

裏 ft. yuika

cw: spoiler alert for yuika's backstory, mentions of typical-canon violence and death, emotional manipulation, suicidal thoughts, general bad vibes. pre-simon arc, implied kageo/yuika. masterlist

Sometimes, Yuika wondered what life would have been like if her whole clan hadn't been eradicated.

She's not delusional enough to think it would be a fairy-tale happy ending or anything. Ever since her childhood, those days weren't an easy path filled with sunshine and rainbows that people loved to sing praises about: a fuck ton of rules to obey as the future heiress, long indoor training hours until her heart threatened to stop, and maybe candy for a treat on rare occasions because, for all the wealth her Wandering Ghost Blade clan had had, she couldn't afford the luxury of simply being a kid.

It's no fun for a girl like her. Soft hands, big smiles, and a head full of ideas—all Yuika ever wanted was someone she could talk to. The servants would brush her hair, draping her body in the finest silk on every birthday as Yuika browsed through an array of perfumes expensive enough to feed an entire nation of starving people. What started as a delight that her muted world had gained some temporary vibrant colors soon became another burgeoning monotony. When those bottles filled up a whole room and her maids' comments felt more like bittering jabs than they were applauds, the cheerful child in Yuika also died a little.

But at least she still has her mother.

Kageo, too. The two people who made her feel like an actual person somewhat rather than a statue on a pedestal. They just didn't have the chance to be around that much in the past, and sadly so was she. Day-in and day-out etiquette lessons and sword practices ensured that none of her time could be wasted on mundane interactions. Her uncle was a strict man, and for years, Yuika was stuck in this confusing loop of thanking the man for what he had done for the clan when her father couldn't, resenting him for the way he had treated Kageo, and fearing that one day he might turn his back against the ones he called family. Still, he did what he had to do for her and the clan. Even until his dying breath, the old man had only wanted the best for Yuika.

But what had she wanted for herself?

What if there hadn't been a firelit graveyard filled with rotting, gas-filled corpses that Kageo had carried her away from on that fateful night, but a cozy lawn in the summer moonlight?

Deep within the mansion, tucked safely underneath the futon's duvet, Yuika would sleep like a baby. Her duties wouldn't be any less daunting, her people wouldn't look at her as anything but a pretty doll on display, and her life would still be laid out for her.

But maybe…

Maybe she could spend more time with her mother. Flashed her doe eyes and begged hard enough so that she would let her sweet girl tag along for afternoon tea. Yuika missed her gentle touches; how she wanted to sit on her mother's lap and hear the woman talk about her day again, just once more.

Maybe, with some effort and miracle, she could convince her austere old uncle to mellow out a little. He shouldn't be so harsh on people for things they couldn't control. Yuika used to wish he would see how unfair he was and how it would be so much better if he stopped viewing everyone outside the clan as a threat.

Maybe she could finally talk to Kageo without risking him another brutal beating.

Maybe she could have been more than a husk filled with vengeance and hatred.

Maybe she could be normal.

But her whole family was dead; her hands were soaked in the blood of two thousand individuals and counting; her name and Kageo's plastered all over Japan and the FBI's warrant.

Sometimes, Yuika wondered if she regretted the person she had become.

Maybe she did.

—

The second time Yuika thought about it rationally, her heart in her throat and your hands on her shoulders, she realized that she hated this life too.

It's fine. At least they weren't on the run anymore; one week after Raphael took the pair of street rats in and gifted them a fancy ship. Kageo was out discussing whatever with the new boss, but Yuika couldn't be bothered. All the time wasted on revenge, all the things she wanted to say to him had turned into her barely saying anything meaningful at all. A hundred miles away from land on the Ghost Cruise, Yuika heard the waves and saw the barely-there ray of a distant lighthouse through the window; your fingers carded through her hair, the phantom of a caress.

"How's Yuu-chan settling in, hmm?" you chirp. "Is everything to your liking?"

Glory Club seemed to have a penchant for idiosyncrasy, she thought. Both in the way this place functioned and how its subjects were treated. She wasn't complaining; she finally got a place to stay and a large tub to relax in, sprinkled with a few drops of lavender oil and rose petals. Yuika reeled her mind back to reality, letting out a small chuckle of her own when your fingers curled around a lock of her hair with more force than needed.

"Everything's perfect," she said, wetting her tongue when she remembered she had one. "Kageo and I would like to thank you again for your kindness."

Your grip loosened instantly as you let out a giggle, each titter cutting the back of Yuika's skull like a sharp blade. "Raphael's kindness," your jollity was still there, fingertips massaging the shampoo into her scalp. "But I'm glad; you're definitely looking better than you were last week, Yuu-chan!"

She allowed herself a humorless smile. "Do I?"

"Of course!" another enthusiastic remark. When your thumbs grazed the back of her neck, Yuika briefly wondered how many lives those hands had taken. "Your hair feels softer now, your eye bags are gone, and even your mood seems to increase too— well, you killed two of my brother's underlings today, but that's okay! Yuu-chan is happy, right?"

Because she was finally home.

In some ways, she hadn't changed at all. Yuika wasn't any less scared or clueless than the girl she had been thirteen years ago on that stormy night, rushing through the villa barefoot to reach her mother's chamber. She opened up to you almost too easily, finding solace in your touch like a bear that had been melted into butter. You reminded her of the woman so much; it's weird. It's so fucking weird. You're so fucking weird. Who the fuck invited someone they barely knew for a bath?

There was this sudden, crushing silence, save for the sound of water sloshing as you rinsed her hair. Yuika pursed her lips—neither a yes or no to your earlier query—and said your name. Quietly. Hesitantly. Like she was the one giving the question instead.

But you pressed closer, every inch of your front touching her back, and somehow, somehow Yuika already knew your answer before you even voiced it out.

"Hmm? What is it, Yuu-chan?"

"Why us?"

Why chose them?

Why brought them in and showered them in benignity?

She shouldn't be thinking this much, but you nuzzled into the junction where her neck met her shoulders; hands circling her waist underneath the water like a mother's embrace on a winter eve; smile imprinting her skin like an uncle's rare approval; eyes packed with a loving warmth like the daisies her and Kageo smelt that July noon in the bamboo trail behind the clan, and Yuika wanted to curl up and die, just a little bit.

"Yuu-chan, let me say this."

She let you.

"I remember when you first came in," you traced some unknown, asinine shapes on her stomach. "Tired, hopeless, and burnt out. You were a shell," the motion stopped as your hands left her midriff to dance spider-quick up her arms. "Barely eating, barely sleeping."

She was barely even alive when Kageo dragged her sorry ass from whatever shitty motel they hid in all the way to Korea.

"Who took you in? Who helped you?"

Kageo, I'm hungry. Where are we gonna go? We killed them; we killed them all. I didn't fucking choose this life. I never wanted us to be fugitives. You should just leave me be. Kageo, Kageo! I heard the sirens—

"Y-You," Yuika choked out, the gentle waves on the side of the ship ringing like a thousand agonizing screams in her ears. "You helped us."

"Raphael helped you." you corrected her, softly. Hands resting on her shoulders like the starting point of a never-ending game. "Because?"

"We need him."

"And?"

"He needs us."

"To?"

"Kill Peter."

"That's right," you patted her shoulders, then her hair. Each digit rubbed against her scalp as if nothing was amiss. As if they weren't on a giant cruise in the middle of the ocean, and Yuika wasn't trembling with the weight of her existence.

When she stilted, you giggled. Louder this time. "You're very talented, Yuu-chan," squeezed her. "But you're too soft; you don't belong in this world."

Not when the guilt of what she did still shadowed her.

Not when the gore and carnage wore her skin and burnt into her flesh.

Yuika couldn't learn to love the danger this line of work brought if what actively kept her alive now was the thought that one day she would get away from it.

"Shh," you cooed, smoothing out her still-damp hair before she could muster the strength to weep. "I know, Yuu-chan. You're not here to stay. Do your part well, and you can leave. Both of you."

"I," Yuika gritted her teeth. "But I did so many unforgivable things—"

"I've done far worse." the girl almost flinched when you tugged sharply on her hair, but instead of sharp pain, there was this fuzzy, suffocating warmth spreading down her spine. "So don't think too much, okay?" you continued, chiding her with an amused laugh. "Silly Yuu-chan," a soft sigh left your lips. "You deserve happiness too!"

"I… I do?" she mutters, small and helpless.

"I wouldn't think otherwise," another chuckle. The water rippled and splashed around them as she felt you stand up, followed by a cheerful, "Let's go; those two might be back soon." that strangely, anomalously brought a wry curl to her lips.

But when Yuika turned her head around, you weren't smiling at her.

taglist: @yaoduriaa @anjeliquesworld @crazycatwithscissors @i-anoobis-i @galaxyquirks @poppytartt @funsizedlaziness @missroro @hot-mexican-rat @hdstudio-045 @jaazoldyck @izzatune

[ghostkingirl]

An analysis/rant about Alexis Ness and fear of abandonment

Seeing all the Ness hate (mainly on TikTok) is genuinely making me feel like his trauma and fears of abandonment aren’t being acknowledged enough so here’s my analysis rant about Ness because I am a Ness glazer and I feel like he has the potential to have the saddest or most important arc in NEL.

Obviously Ness is extremely insecure and sees himself as having no inherent value as a person. Especially for kids coming from toxic households, it can be hard for them to see that they are important and valuable as individuals.

Ness believed his only value was in soccer, and Kaiser was the first person who believed in him whenever he was at his lowest point. Kaiser (in a sense) acknowledged his value and helped him develop it further. Even after that, Kaiser opened up to Ness and developed a level of trust in him.

For someone like Ness, who was abandoned by the people closest to him, it’s understandable why he would attach himself to Kaiser. He saw his only value as being something for Kaiser to use to achieve his dream, and Ness probably got absorbed into that. I can see how Ness probably got so involved in Kaiser’s dream that he lost his own sense of identity, and I don’t think he realized that until after Kaiser broke things off with him. He wasn’t inherently trying to suck up to Kaiser, he was probably trying to reach that level of closeness he felt when him and Kaiser first started playing together, and he genuinely never thought about himself as an individual. When you hate every aspect of yourself because of what others have told you, having someone acknowledge even the smallest part of you means the world. You keep searching for more of that validation that they gave you, but in searching for that validation you neglect other parts of yourself and lose part of your identity until you only put value in that part that was validated in the first place. It’s honestly a tragic cycle of dependency and reinforcing toxic behaviors that I think is really well developed.

The complaint I see a lot is that Ness just hates Isagi, when i think it’s more complex than that. I don’t think Ness originally hated Isagi, he just went with what Kaiser said because (as I mentioned before) I don’t think Ness sees himself as a full individual. His attempts to only be what Kaiser wants/needs are what drives what he says and does for the first part of his involvement in NEL. I think Ness only hated Isagi when Kaiser “chose” Isagi. Not only did Ness only hate on Isagi at the beginning because it’s what he thought Kaiser wanted, when Kaiser chose Isagi I can see how Ness felt threatened by that. Until then, Kaiser had never tried to truly connect with anyone except Ness (that we know of), and Ness probably felt like his relationship with Kaiser would be sacrificed if Kaiser started working with Isagi.

I don’t think Ness is just a “Kaiser glazer” I think Ness is a deeply complex character whose abandonment issues and trauma are driving his every thought and decision making. He went from feeling totally worthless to having any part of himself validated and acknowledged. It makes sense that he put all of his self worth into that one part of himself so that Kaiser would keep him around. It also makes sense that he would be angry at Isagi considering the fact that Ness probably sees Isagi as being the one to affect his relationship with Kaiser. Ness just hasn’t realized how severely dependent he is on Kaiser’s attention and validation, and even if he has I don’t think he’s acknowledged it as problematic (yet). This is not to say Ness is perfect, he is a DEEPLY problematic character who is reinforcing his own downfall by constantly seeking validation from Kaiser (who in turn keeps pushing him away which only makes Ness try and seek MORE validation).

My hope for Ness is that like all us kids who have been abandoned and found our self worth in another person only to be abandoned again, that we find love and value for ourselves as individuals and not side characters in someone else’s world.

Anyways your local Ness apologist, out :3

[jeonscatalyst]

To the anon who sent the very long ask “debunking” Jikook and mentioning the solo era and other moments: I take it you’re not familiar with my thoughts on that era, as I’ve discussed it extensively on this blog. You’re welcome to search my tags for those discussions…there are plenty of them.

Your ask touched on many points that suggest you either have a limited view of real human relationships or perceive Jimin and Jungkook as fictional characters with straightforward, linear lives devoid of complexity. That’s not how I see them. I view them as real people living complex lives under very intricate circumstances. They’re two individuals who have known each other for over 13 years….a significant amount of time during which ups and downs, ebbs and flows are natural.

It’s not up to you or anyone else to dictate what people should or shouldn’t do, or how they should behave in relationships. Those decisions rest with Jimin and Jungkook, as they’re the ones most aware of their own circumstances and how to navigate them. The fact that the two may have seemed “off” at certain points over the years doesn’t invalidate the possibility that there have been times when their relationship extended beyond mere friendship. To put it simply: if you were dating someone and experienced distance or complications…maybe even took a break or broke up (not implying that this is what happened with Jikook, just giving an example) would it be fair for someone to conclude that you were never together just because of that moment of distance? Of course not. That wouldn’t be fair or accurate.

Relationships aren’t defined by isolated moments cherry-picked to suit a narrative. They’re about patterns, consistency in words and actions, and a shared history. No one has all the facts about Jikook’s relationship, and we’re missing a lot of context. Naturally, this leaves gaps in the story, but your attempt to use selected moments to “debunk” them isn’t how it works.

You also included some inaccuracies and misinterpretations in your ask, as well as speculative assumptions you’ve treated as facts, which doesn’t hold up here. Relationships and feelings are among the most complex things to navigate, and you can’t know how you’d act in certain circumstances until you’re in them. It might seem easy to say, “I would do this or that,” but human dynamics rarely follow such simplicity.

How can you be sure when Jimin and Jungkook are at ease with each other, or when they’re having minor disagreements? How do you know when they’ve grown distant, or when their challenging circumstances affect their dynamic? How do you know when they work through conflicts and reconnect afterward? You don’t. Yet, you believe combing through 13 years of content and cherry-picking moments can invalidate the consistent words and actions we’ve observed from Jikook over the years.

You mentioned their decision to enlist together and framed it as something any two friends would do. While I don’t necessarily disagree with that, you also claimed that Jimin and Jungkook didn’t care enough about each other during the solo era to even stay in touch. If that were true, why would they even consider enlisting together? If I cared so little about someone, I wouldn’t bother going through such a significant process with them.

You also stated that Jungkook only knew about the release of the teaser for SMF Pt. 2 and nothing more (which isn’t accurate) But if he didn’t care about Jimin, why would he even bother to know that much? He didn’t only know it but made sure to ask fans to wait up for it, something he has never done for anyone else. Why would he visit Jimin during practice (something he didn’t do for the other members)? Why wake up at 4 a.m. to watch Jimin on shows, sing his songs, and know his lyrics by heart…while not showing the same level of knowledge for other members’ work even members he supposedly shared a song first with?

Anyone can cherry-pick moments to fit a narrative. But if I were to highlight specific moments over the years that are unique to Jikook and ask you to explain them differently, you likely wouldn’t be able to because there simply isn’t another explanation.

Anon, I urge you not to analyze life and relationships in such a reductive way. If someone applied this perspective to your own life, they might think you dislike your loved ones based on isolated moments of disagreement, fatigue, or introspection. If we had to watch ourselves 24/7 on a screen, scrutinizing every gesture, expression, word, and action, we’d likely approach others with far more empathy and kindness.

Your ask was extremely lengthy, and it contained many inaccuracies and speculations, I don’t feel like addressing each point individually so I am not going to post the full ask. I encourage you to go through my blog, read the posts I’ve written about Jikook and the solo era, and then return with any further questions.

Could there be things that debunk the idea that Jikook are together? Perhaps. But if your argument boils down to “anything JK has ever done with or for Tae debunks Jikook,” I strongly disagree.

[mhevarujta]

Lily Rose Depp said it for example: “It was clear to me from the beginning, and from what Rob [Eggers] was saying to me, it’s a love story with Count Orlok as much as it is with her husband. There’s a real love triangle there. “

I don’t have problems with love triangles with vampires or with Ellen loving Orlok, even if it’s fucked up. I have problems with how they executed it in the movie itself. Would people get this idea that Ellen loved Orlok or really wanted him or if there was real love triangle going on if they didn’t read piles of interviews from cast and crew and need to constantly refer to them? Movie itself needed to show it. Perhaps, Eggers simply can’t write gothic romances and really thought he was doing something, but it didn’t translate to screen. His WH comparison did him no favours, by inviting comparisons between Heathcliff and Orlok considering how bland and flat Orlok is as character. But Eggers really thought he was doing some deep comparison.

It's a love triangle because Ellen's desire lies with Orlok, not with Thomas.

IF his intention was to show love between Orlok and Ellen, Eggers fails. I DO think that Eggers' comments about Wuthering Heights only translate on screen very superficially in terms of Ellen being torn between what would exile her from society and between what makes her a part of it. But if we look at them as anything more than that, they'd only show that he doesn't have a good grasp of either Heathcliff or Catherine's characters, both of whom are miles away from Orlok and Ellen as individuals: To put it very superficially Orlok lacks Heathcliff's humanity, Ellen does not have Catherine's selfishness and overall, the lack of any emotional depth in their relationship aside, Ellen x Orlok don't even balance each other out as individuals in my opinion. Also, Heathcliff lives and breathes on love and spite, but as long as Catherine is still really fond of someone he would not unleash his cruelty upon them to its full extent, and this makes for some absolutely fascinating dynamics throughout Wuthering Heights. On the other hand Orlok is devoid of any of Heathcliff's complexity. He's paper-thin. He works as a symbol for the individual and the collective shadow, sure, and that's the most interesting part of his character, but he doesn't work in a straight-forward manner.

Nevertheless, I'd like to give Eggers the benefit of the doubt, in that he chose to be inspired by WH without replicating it. Because to be frank I think that, despite his comparison, if he intended for a genuine love to exist between Orlok and Ellen he wouldn't have actively deleted all the aspects that showed tenderness or even confidence on Ellen's part from the 2016 script. All the mentions of Ellen 'gently' touching him? Gone. The 'lovingly' when she brings him back to her? Gone. Ellen feeling "calm and confident in a way she has never been before?" Gone. The emphasis on Ellen being 'finally fulfilled'? Gone. Instead there are things that are added. Like a completely different direction for Ellen and Thomas' relationship, a last look of love between them even as Ellen lies with Orlok, the emphasis on Ellen's moment of reckoning and victory.

Moreover, despite Depp's talk about a love story, it's Eggers himself who has mentioned that the nature of Ellen and Orlok's dynamic is about obsession and not love. He has also acknowledged the existing rape and that Orlok is an abuser. So I think that it's really interesting when people who saw this movie with shipping goggles on are trying to say that Ellen was ONLY abused by her society, that these elements were not there and that other viewers are making them up because they didn't get what the movie was about or don't understand the genre. Ellen was a victim of the vampire and of society both, and that's part of her tragedy.

[deconstructthesoup]

Some STP Human Headcanons (Vessels)

-I mentioned this in my last Slay the Princess post, but Prisoner loves to dance. As soon as she's free to walk and move around, she learns how to dance as a way to a) feel like she's in control of her body again, and b) fully explore the freedom she's now offered. The day she learns swing dances is the first day that any of the others have seen her smile.

-Witch has about twenty different kinds of carnivorous plants in her house, and all of them have names. She likes talking to them, because plants don't say that you're dragging on when you complain about your day, or tell you that your outfit looks awful when you're trying something new, or tell you that you're a massive dork when you gush about your favorite graphic novel series.

-Oh, yeah, Witch is a comics/graphic novel nerd. She's a big fan of Alison Bechdel, Vera Brosgol, ND Stevenson, and Elaine Lee, and she loooooooooves Harley Quinn and Poison Ivy. She reads DC comics for them and them alone.

-As a way to express some individuality while they're still figuring out what their personality is---and if they even have a cohesive one---Stranger dresses in incredibly elaborate outfits, and the style changes rapidly from day to day. They can go from dressing like a Southern Belle (complete with a parasol) to dressing like a Victorian swashbuckling thief (complete with a cane and masquerade mask) to dressing like they're heading to a 1980's roller rink (surprisingly, they make the skates work) on any given day, and all of the girls place bets on whatever they're going to wear next. Nobody has won.

-It's a terrible pun, but I'm ridiculously attached to the idea of Razor being a metalhead---and if not a metalhead exactly, then a major fan of any and all punk rock music released in the Riot Grrl era. She owns every single Bikini Kill album, every single Raincoats album, and will neither confirm nor deny having a Joan Jett body pillow. If she can sing-scream along to it, she'll listen to it.

-Adversary is the most kickass roller derby player you have ever seen in your life. She's got face-paint, she's got stickers on her helmet, she's got scuffed shoulder and knee pads from bodying the girls on the other team... she's fucking awesome. Razor shows up to every single game with a hand-painted sign for her.

-Damsel is obsessed with video games like Stardew Valley, Animal Crossing, the Sims---basically, anything that's cute and low-stakes, she'll play. She absolutely has a set of pink cat-ear headphones that Witch bought for her. (Prisoner has matching blue ones, but she never wears them.)

-Nightmare is a theater kid. She recites Shakespearean monologues at the drop of a hat, devours occult-themed musicals like her life depends on it, and has a flawless soprano voice that will actually give you chills. Her rendition of "The Ballad of Jane Doe" at a voice recital made several people cry. She relishes in their tears.

-Prisoner and Spectre both love books, but while it's more of an academic thing for Prisoner (she likes history and math, because it's just facts), Spectre is a total fiction reader. Mostly classics like Jane Austen and Agatha Christie, but she's also got a bit of a guilty pleasure for well-written romance novels, and she loves The Locked Tomb series. Even if the Alecto stuff hits a bit too close to home.

-Stranger is really into arts and crafts, to the point where they've pretty much learned everything from crotcheting to making clay earrings. Almost all of their creations end up being gifted to one of the girls, and they're all very much treasured and appreciated.

-Tower has a difficult time really connecting with most of the girls, since she's still trying to get herself to come down from her superiority complex, but she has figured out that they will always like her as long as she brings her credit card with her. No matter the setting, Tower is fucking loaded, and even the more masc girls like Adversary are willing to go on a shopping spree.

-That being said, I think Tower gets along the best with Nightmare, because they're both absolutely self-assured, barely care about other people (except their best girls, of course), and are both intimidating in their own ways. They're absolutely the kind of best friends who bitch about people while doing each other's nails.

-Witch and Spectre both do witchcraft for funzies, but Witch is more about the plants and herbalism, while Spectre's all about the Oujia boards and tarot cards. They're kind of in a two-person coven together---you gotta find something to bond over, and what better way to connect than your shared interest in magic?

-If I'm not just making Beast into a cat, I'm making Beast into a preteen, because just making her a human adult just doesn't... fit her. Besides, it's way more easy---and more fun---to imagine her as that low-key feral kid who's always digging for worms during recess, always gets into fights with bullies and winds up covered in Band-Aids as a result, always wears the same ratty cat-ear beanie every day, and hisses at people who annoy her. She has weird-little-girl energy, I dunno what to tell you. (She still tags along on hangouts when there's no alcohol involved, though---she's either Witch's little sister or her daughter, and Witch is very keen on making sure she's included.)

-Damsel bakes. Every time one or more of the girls comes over, she has something in the oven, something sitting on the kitchen table cooling, and something that's in the middle of being frosted. She likes doing it because while it is something that she largely does for others, it's also something that gives her a sense of pride, and she also just has a lot of fun with it. Even when she has to clean up, she's humming a song from a Barbie movie under her breath. Probably from Princess & The Pauper (the best one, fight me).

-Adversary used to play the violin when she was a kid, but she got bored of it quick, and she switched over to the bass as soon as she could. Spectre is very good at playing the cello---she even does recitals!---and Witch... well, she played the French horn in high school. During marching band. It was the only extracurricular where she could have free reign to be as annoying as possible to the people who said that she had to have one for college credit. (Oh, also, Razor plays electric guitar. She's a really good singer, but she's an even better growler.)

And... I think that's all I got for now.

[squirrelno2]

Ok so Davrin! I have Thoughts about Davrin.

Because if you’re aware at all of the stuff I write you’re probably aware that I am a big fan of the kind of character who subsumes their own desires and survival and personhood for the sake of being One Thing, whether that’s a living weapon/made to be a soldier situation or just a “I am Your Best Friend first and foremost situation”. It is, uh. Small wonder I end up liking characters of colour the most, since those are the ones most often written with a Purpose in the story who don’t get to expand beyond that Purpose in the narrative, or if they do have that arc that I crave it’s still underrepresented in fanworks so it becomes my favourite and most frustrating niche where I have to create the content I want to see in the world, which is “person who tries to ignore their own needs gets to realise they’re allowed to love and be loved whether or not they’re useful”. Please be aware that while I don’t specifically discuss Davrin’s Blackness in the next few paragraphs it is a large part of why I’m writing this now because it massively changes the way this story gets read, both because people with unexamined biases will gloss over his story and just accept Davrin as being a tool to the story instead of a person and also because those of us who are aware now must consider how to address such a storyline knowing that Black people most of all are reduced in their stories to things and plot points.

So getting back to Davrin in particular I am both obsessed with and frustrated by how he’s written because! His narrative is such a good example of this trope! He is a monster hunter, and to a lesser extent at the start a protector, and from the moment we meet him he is trying very hard to keep himself shut in that box. He downplays any effect he has on the griffons, is upset at the idea of taking care of Assan because that’s what the others are there for, he’s just the sword arm. As time goes on and we do things like, you know, fight an archdemon without getting our Warden buddy killed, he seems so lost and almost devastated to have not died when he was “supposed to” – and this is a man who doesn’t really seem suicidal at all, he has no real desire to die, he just. Expects to. And what he can do to save others is always more important to him than what he could do to save himself. When my Rook walked in there expecting to be overjoyed with him that they were both still around I have to think the gap in emotion was so jarring to both of them, because like. This man has accepted his own death in the face of the “greater good” for so long that he never once made a contingency plan or even wild hope for “what if I don’t die?” And it’s so cool that he and my Rook got to walk hand in hand through danger and decide they deserve to be happy! It’s so cool that you get to potentially get him through the entire game and into a life with open possibilities and who knows what kind of future for the Wardens! That’s my shit!

And while I can’t say I’ll never choose the Grey Warden option for the griffon choice, to me that is so much a metaphor about letting yourself become a weapon vs finding peace and joy that is in line with you as an individual that if I’m playing the game acting on my conscience, not a Rook who’s further from me, I will always choose Arlathan for them. Because that’s so obviously a metaphor for Davrin’s own growth as a character.

This is where it pisses me off, though – too much of that metaphor is treated literally. Davrin doesn’t verbally acknowledge what the griffons’ changing role means for him, and I’m unsure if an unromanced Davrin ever says anything about planning for the future, having only gotten through the game once thus far. The fucking epilogue where all the companions say a little line about what’s in their future and Davrin just mentions the griffons and not his own fucking life??? Like he had a little line about pursuing romance or whatever but again. That’s a romanced Davrin. If he and my Rook hadn’t vibed “the griffons found a new home in Arlathan” or whatever would have been presented as the sole culmination of Davrin’s character arc. I love coparenting a griffon as much as the next guy but we cannot replace the “sword arm” persona with a “griffon daddy” persona as though him subsuming his needs and wants for the sake of Assan is any better for him than doing it for the Wardens. What the fuck.

Anyway short version of all that is Davrin has my favourite kind of story, and griffons are a metaphor for the way Wardens treat themselves. and the POINT of me writing all that is that you cannot approach his story without acknowledging that the fact that he’s a Black man means people who work/ed on both canon and fan content are ready and willing to treat him as a tool in his own fucking storyline for the sake of an animal, and he deserves so much better because holy hell if you’re gonna write a Black man with this kind of “I exist for a Purpose alone” arc you have got to pay attention to what you’re doing. Please. his story involves Assan but it's not about Assan it's about him.

[please-read-the-manga]

I know this is an older post (and I agree with all of it), but I wanted to share something I read a while back that really changed my perception on this topic/the way I personally go about rationalizing/understanding why so much of what occurs with the Uchiha feels unsatisfying.

Here's a link to the thread (lots of cool opinions/thoughts are expressed on it), but I'll try to crudely summarize what resonated the most with me. "Kishimoto's Writing On the Uchiha is Unironically A Good Example of Real Life Pro-Genocide Propaganda" by u/LivingwithStupidity.

To save space, thoughts under the cut:

Outside of our major characters (who all, to some degree, largely play antagonistic roles ie. Madara, Obito, Itachi, Sasuke, even Fugaku), the Uchiha rarely exist outside of the context of the massacre and even then, they are largely voiceless and nameless. This dehumanizes them in the narrative and robs them of individuality, especially as time progresses within the series. We naturally forget, for example, about the sweet old Uchiha aunty that runs a clan store in Sasuke's memories because she's never shown or brought up again. Outside of some hints in Sasuke's initial memories of the event that do not get repeated, we're not shown different generations of characters remembering their fallen Uchiha comrades/school friends, during later flashbacks to past wars we're not shown different Uchiha clan members fighting in the background (even though they were major participants who gave their lives in battle/on behalf of the village and operated as a founding clan - the only exception to this is Kagami and he is notably used as an exception to 'typical' Uchiha), we're not shown academy teachers having to redo their class rosters because all of their young Uchiha students were murdered, we're not shown any characters looking at empty shop stalls that used to be manned by noncombatant Uchiha characters and commenting on that loss of life/what it means to the village, etc. The rest of the in-universe world moves on and none of our major characters really call back into focus the humanity that was indiscriminately annihilated through the massacre - it laps at the surface through Sasuke's character/actions, but outside of its first introduction, it's never (imo) that explicit again. The closest we get to a proper callback to callous loss of life is Sasuke's reaction to Danzo's arm where it's revealed he violated and mutilated Uchiha bodies... but even this, I fear, is a bit too subtle for some people and it gets overlooked. Later, when Sasuke goes on to rightfully call out Konoha's crimes he specifically mentions his mother, father, and brother - and, again, I don't think this is enough to remind some readers of the sheer gravity of the tragedy at play here. Maybe even just one more line here, that reminded the reader innocent children, the infirmed, and noncombatants were murdered in their beds too, would have gone a long way... but the narrative (pointedly, in my opinion) doesn't take that necessary step. The loss of life isn't felt as vividly as it should be and I think it gives many readers license to dismiss Sasuke's grief and mission as 'unwarranted' (and it inspires the braindead 'well so-and-so suffered too/lost xyz and they didn't react like that' arguments when this tragedy, if you're capable of deeper analysis, is on a completely different scale/underscores an extremely unique injustice that is personal to Sasuke). There is a weight applied to Itachi's crimes when they're being discussed, but the critical human piece seems to be missing (imo) - hundreds of families massacred in one night is replaced all too simply with 'the clan' and I think the impact of the former gets handwaved by the phrasing of the latter.

The faulty eugenics arguments also serve as a simplistic 'see-I-told-you-so' that satisfies far too many and seems to justify, in their eyes, the complete destruction of the Uchiha bloodline and culture. Personally, if I can get a little 'real-world' here, I wonder if this is partially a symptom of poor education on genocide/the history of genocide. To me, Tobirama's unproven, disingenuous presentation on 'Uchiha genes' just reeks of 'Der Untermensch' propaganda and I think some people are far too generous in granting allowances for his very obviously pointed hatred and bias against this clan of people, especially when his direct actions as a person in power helped give rise to the eventual elimination of the Uchiha. For many people, this is all they need to know to now wipe their hands of this 'debate', call Sasuke 'crazy' and an 'edgy emo worked up over nothing' and point to this hateful, whacko eugenicist character that claims the sharingan makes 'these people' crazy so, of course, they 'self-destructed' (even if that was not the truth), of course, they're 'all bad and not worthy of Sasuke's efforts to preserve their memory/bring them justice', etc. Again, this works hand-in-hand with the previous point where we are pointedly not reminded that babies, children and everyday people without the sharingan, the elderly/infirmed, anyone who maybe had a dissenting opinion on this alleged coup - all of them - were lumped together on the basis of their 'genetic disposition and biological deficiencies' and thereby slaughtered without remorse. Now certain people can comfortably read pages upon pages of Itachi wank and be content with the knowledge that what Itachi did was justified/for the best because, well, the Uchiha are all nut-jobs. Yep, every single one. It's in their blood... just round 'em up and kill 'em. Right? These takes are so disgusting and continue to persistent in this fandom.

Finally, as mentioned in this thread already, Itachi never comes full circle to acknowledge his own victimhood at the hands of the village nor does he express any direct regret of his actions against his kin. He does regret, partially, how he handled Sasuke (and imo even that gets less focus than I frankly feel it deserves within these discussions - not only did Itachi repeatedly torture and try to force his brother onto a path that suited Itachi/Itachi's whims he was also prepared to BRAINWASH his younger brother and, again, force him to serve the state regardless of Sasuke's own freewill/agency), but Itachi never outright states that he regrets the massacre specifically (just that things could have been different) nor does he draw his own conclusions about the village's failures and how he was absolutely groomed and victimized by Konoha's violent rhetoric + the greater shinobi system (particularly when Sasuke is trying to wrap his own head around this mess of contradictions). I mean, the weight of that is enormous and I think it's a disservice to both Sasuke and Itachi to not explore the implications of that. Editing to add (I had it in the tags, but I should probably put it here): I do think Itachi felt guilt, even if it wasn't completely articulated, and that is why he manipulated Sasuke into killing him, but the major problem (for myself and many) remains that to the very end he died proudly 'Itachi of Konoha' even though Konoha inexcusably harmed him, his beloved younger brother, and his entire family. Itachi acknowledging, in some way, that the village is harmful but there should be some way of fixing that (ie. inspiring Sasuke to contemplate how that could be/what that looks like) would have added some needed complexity to discourse centering on the harm of the shinobi world/what happens going forward. I'm aware there are different interpretations on Itachi's regret, I go back and forth on these interpretations.

All this to say, I would have loved to see more flashbacks with Sasuke exploring his relationship to his mother/father/other Uchiha clan members. I would have loved to see more Uchiha merchants/laborers (or general noncombatants), cousins that Sasuke played with and met up with after his classes, elders that would sneak him treats, etc.

Their clan-specific jutsu and symbols have meaning, there is cultural significance to them that Sasuke may or may not be familiar with and, in either case, that matters. When Sasuke realizes he'll never be able to ask his father or elders what 'xyz' means in relation to their clan and his heritage, that such knowledge is gone forever, that matters. When Sasuke starts to forget certain faces, or can't bring himself to recall those times without being reminded of their bloody slaughter (as Itachi designed), that matters. Anyone who thinks about what Sasuke has endured for more than 5 minutes likely understands that these conflicting feelings/questions constantly loom around his character - how does someone who has been through something so awful, who has completely lost everything, how do they continue to endure? But the issue, I think, is that the narrative fails to adequately highlight these ideas in a way that would not only be 1.) satisfying to those of us who resonate with/appreciate the character but 2.) be capable of inspiring empathy in readers who maybe don't have the background/knowledge/experience to grapple with the weight of Sasuke's reality (again, without more explicit focus from the narrative itself).

Naruto gets to see his father and mother in two extremely meaningful moments - they're story highlights for a reason. Naruto's experience with neglect, isolation, and lack of identity have been hallmarks informing his character since the beginning. That he is given the opportunity to directly reconcile with these feelings, is great, it's satisfying - we see how this character has hurt and how they've grown and we're happy to see them receive some semblance of closure after the difficult journey they've undergone. So, I'll always lament that the same was never extended to Sasuke. To have an alternative viewpoint to Itachi's, could have greatly influenced Sasuke's calculus as he tried to parse his thoughts/feelings regarding insurmountable grief, isolation, and loss. I mean, imagine if Fugaku and Mikoto were edo tensei'd... What would they have said to their youngest son who had been tasked with this impossible mission of bringing justice to their clan in the face of the pure evil injustice that the Leaf did to them? Would he have been given peace? Would they have relieved him of his quest so that he no longer needed to suffer? Would he listen? Idk, man, we were able to waste so many chapters on random fodder characters during the war arc, we couldn't be bothered to interact with any other Uchiha?

But... if we did present other Uchiha for the purpose of exploring what closure looks like for Sasuke (even outside of Fugaku and Mikoto, though I think they could have worked too), then we would be humanizing them in a way that conflicts with what the narrative seems to want us to take away from the village's (and Itachi's) actions. We can't humanize the Uchiha without calling out this horrifying wrong the Leaf has exercised... especially if there will not be any retribution (and that could be a fascinating story to explore, a really realistic one too lol - but I don't personally think that was the narrative's intention).

It really does just feel like a missed opportunity/mishandling of 'what could have been' at the end of the day. We have hints to this greater, underexplored Uchiha lore that are fascinating - like the Uchiha relationship to the Nekobaa, the Nakano shrine the Uchiha faithfully tended for generations, and Sasuke and Itachi having their fight in what was notably an impressive clan structure far from the village.

This was a group of people connected through a deep, rich culture. They weren't 'nobodies', they weren't 'crazy and irredeemable' - they were people and the narrative would love for you to forget that.

On one level I feel like Sasuke’s idealization of Itachi towards the end is mostly a product of Kishimoto’s desire to have all the characters glorify Itachi and treat him like a saint so he can have his tragic plot twist hero character and no one questions how fucked up it is and so he can erase the rest of Sasuke’s clan and connections to his family but on the other I do think elements of it are realistic given how Obito kept telling Sasuke how much Itachi sacrificed for him and how his own sense of purpose and ideals and sense of self had already been tied to Itachi (antagonistically) for so long through trying to kill him, and how desperate he was to be loved in a way that connected him to his family. And he didn’t actually really believe that what Itachi did was right—if he had he wouldn’t have yelled at him for answers when he came back and he wouldn’t have chosen to oppose Konoha and the kages and essentially gone directly against everything Itachi stood for. I think the fact that on a very fundamental level he opposes the ideology that Itachi upheld but still feels a certain empathy for him and responsibility to him and contextualizes his worldview in reference to him does sort of make sense in a very sad way even if he would be completely justified in feeling nothing but hatred for him forever. I don’t think it was a good choice to have him refer to him in such heroic/valorizing terms though, and if that was going to be the case I wish we had seen a progression that didn’t result in concession to Konoha wherein he could accept that seeing Itachi in any kind of heroic light was deeply inaccurate and unhealthy

[psychemochanight]

Can I ask for all your thoughts and opinions on Dick and Kory's relationship?

Thank You 😊

I'll try, but I don't have my thoughts straight so I don't promise a very eloquent answer, lmao

I can't say I know enough about all the lines where they are together, so I'm not going to go around quoting moments from the comics, but I'm going to focus on what I think about their relationship, if that's okay-

Despite my obvious lack of knowledge, I think it's also obvious that as far as canon ships go, Dick and Kory are my favorites- so I'm gonna give some context first (?)

I met Dick and Kory in the Teen Titans 2003 animated series (I was 2 in 2003, don't expect me to read comics yet, lmao), so obviously it's the first ship I met in relation to them, and yet, that's not my favorite dynamic between them, so I kind of didn't care about their relationship.

It was a few years later that I met them in the comics, and honestly, that's when I started to grow fond of their dynamic.

Do you know this joke about the princess boy and the knight girl? Well, while Dick is someone with a strong character, I always loved how he seems more docile next to Kory, while Kory, unlike her innocent personality in TT03, in the comics she has a much more determined character, still maintaining her ignorance about the human world, but without making her look like a helpless girl, which makes them fall a little into this dynamic.

I don't know Kory very well individually, so I can't speak to her development in particular, but at least on Dick's side, I feel like Kory's presence at his side helps him in ways that no other character can.

I mentioned that Dick becomes docile around Kory, but I don't mean submissive, but relaxed. Dick is a person who is constantly tense and alert, something that he loses with his friends, it is still evident that he maintains a latent state of protection over them, like an older brother. This was not the case with Kory, even if he was still protective of her, Kory was responsible for this dynamic not happening, this is due to her own maturity and protection towards him, what always prevented this older brother/younger sister relationship from occurring. It's not that it never happens, but it's almost non-existent.

I think this is what makes their relationship so different from the one Dick has with his other friends, and also what makes their romantic relationship so different from Dick and Barbara's as well.

The role of protector constantly changes between Dick and Kory, it is not settled on just one of them, and this in part makes their relationship much stronger emotionally.

They both are characters who are characterized by their intense feelings, they express it differently, but they feel with the same intensity.

Something curious about them is that Dick, who is always quite extroverted, becomes more reserved when he is with Kory, who becomes the extrovert in the relationship. This detail is one of the ones I personally like most in their relationship, to be honest-

The fact that Dick, who to me is actually an ambivert, leaning more towards the introverted side in fact (the correct definition, not the one people confuse with being unsociable or shy, but rather the one who needs to recharge his energies in solitude, not in the constant company of people), he allows himself to be more reserved in his ways towards Kory, without that constant need to be the one to say everything out loud, because Kory understands him on a different level.

Of course, this also brings problems sometimes due to the cultural difference, but this is what always gave depth to the couple.

I feel like if the writers hadn't separated them in an attempt to give them more individual development, they would actually be one of the most powerful and well-developed couples, due to the nuances, the depth and different factors that make their personalities, so similar and yet so different, complement each other so well.