#i just think no punishment the narrative could have given him would be worse than what he did to himself | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

zaebeecee · 5 months ago

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To Sever a Loveless Bond

•• RadioDust Soulmate AU••

Part 18/?

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•••

Heavy chapter incoming y’all

CW: implied rape (probably the strongest warning that I’ve given, because it’s only ‘implied’ in as much as it’s just skipped over in the narrative and is not on screen in any capacity, but it absolutely happens), emotional manipulation and coercion, threats against Fat Nuggets, way too much 20s slang, making a skittish demiaro talk about feelings with a stranger (I’m sorry Alastor)

•••

“You sure look calm for a bitch who doesn’t know what he’s walking into.”

“My dear, I have faced down countless adversaries in my time. I am hardly intimidated by a contact of yours.”

Despite his words, Alastor didn’t like the way Cherri Bomb was smirking at him. The two of them had never gotten along—he found her company tedious, and she had a laundry list of his failings ready to go at all times—but it had grown substantially worse in her brief time at the hotel, and it seemed absence had not made her heart grow fonder in the slightest. And now, she was accompanying him to the apparent rendezvous point, which meant he was going to be trapped in her company for at least an hour.

Not his ideal way to spend the evening.

It didn’t help that, despite Blitzø’s warnings and assurances, he was still feeling… bloodthirsty, he supposed was the proper word. An altercation with Cherri Bomb would have gone quite a way to assist in that feeling, but though she had come in geared up to fling explosives into his face, she now seemed more than content to turn this into her punishment. It was odd, because he could still feel the hostility radiating off of her in waves; was whatever he had waiting for him really going to give her that much catharsis?

Cherri Bomb was also (apparently) entirely immune to his lackadaisical attitude and flippant behavior, because instead of irritating her, she was only growing more smug as she led them into the Greed District. Alastor didn’t really spend much time here, having little business to conduct with the sorts of sinners who made their fortunes there with gambling and petty crime, and was thus rather unfamiliar with the streets they walked down and the buildings they passed. Cherri Bomb led him into what looked like a fairly standard office building, rather pleasantly decorated (for Hell), and ignored the receptionists as she headed directly for the elevators.

“Get in,” she directed, jerking her head at him and holding the door open.

Alastor raised an eyebrow at her, but stepped in beside her, turning to face the door and folding his hands behind his back. She didn’t press a button, but instead, flicked open a panel and put in an access code; once it was accepted, there was a soft beep, and the elevator began descending. Alastor watched this with the mild curiosity of someone who had literally nothing else to concentrate on or think about. “Someone doesn’t like company, I assume?”

“You could say that,” she said. “He doesn’t like being bothered, so he’s made sure he isn’t.”

Alastor shrugged. “I suppose I can respect that.”

The elevator opened onto a long, dark hallway lit with electrical lamps reminiscent of his own time, though perhaps a little later. The moment they exited, they were approached by a shark, who looked Alastor over critically while addressing his temporary companion. “This a friend’a yers, Miss Cherri Bomb?”

She actually laughed at that, a single sharp burst. “No,” she said. “But he’s the one your boss wants to see.”

The shark didn’t look adequately impressed, to Alastor’s thinking, but he just nodded and backed off to permit them to pass. Despite that, Alastor could feel the shark watching them as they headed down the hallway and stopped outside a door. Cherri Bomb raised her fist and knocked sharply, a rhythm that sounded intentional without being immediately distinctive. A voice bade them enter, and she did, stepping in before him and leaving him to shut the door as he followed.

The room wasn’t as dark or dimly-lit as Alastor might have expected for some kind of underground lair, but the decor was very muted with much black and grey, lending a sense of style to the room that was either elegant or dull (he hadn’t decided which yet). A fireplace sat at the far end of the room with a small sitting area, lamps hung from the ceiling, the wood flooring was pale gray and the walls were black damask, and the space in front of them was dominated by a dark wood desk with two chairs in front of it and several filing cabinets behind it.

“So. You’re the sharper Tony’s got caught up with, I hear that right?”

Alastor narrowed his eyes at the immediate use of an insult. “I beg your pardon?”

The man behind the desk was… small. Perhaps no taller than Niffty, were he to stand up. His entire body was a uniform charcoal gray, including his hair, and he was dressed in a black and gray suit that didn’t know what era it wanted to belong to. But it was the arms—all six of them—and the eyes that let Alastor know who this man was. Eight eyes, all a dull and muted pink, with two large primary eyes and three smaller on each side.

This… was Angel Dust’s brother. Alastor had listened to enough of Angel’s tangents over their nights together to doubt it in the slightest. And, despite all of Angel’s complaining… he would never, never forgive Alastor if he did anything to hurt his brother.

Fuck.

“You heard me.” Arackniss—Alastor was fairly certain Angel had called him that—reached out with one arm and tapped ash from his cigarette and into a crystal ashtray on his desk. He had two other hands folded just under his chin, his eyes all focused on Alastor with a laser intensity that told him a brazen lack of fear ran in the family. “I don’t give a fuck if you’re the Radio Demon. I wouldn’t give a fuck if you were Lucifer himself. You’re in my house, you answer my goddamn question. Are you the one Tony took up with?”

“…I am the one Angel… took up with, yes,” Alastor said, tightening his hands together on the top of his staff.

Arackniss made a noise of distaste, but oddly, Alastor couldn’t begin to parse it; was it because he was a man, because he was the Radio Demon, or a secret third thing? The spider didn’t elaborate, sitting back in his chair and watching Alastor from under the brim of his hat. “The Vees’ latest rag would have me believe you’re responsible for roughin’ my little brother up. That true?”

“No,” Alastor said. “That would have been the Vees, with whom I’m fairly certain Angel has been acquainted for the last… fifty or so years?”

The jab about family attentiveness didn’t go unnoticed; Arackniss narrowed his eyes. “My brother was very firm that I was to stay outta his business where work is concerned. And I’ve done that, as requested; ain’t meddled with him or nothin’ of the sort. I gather Cherri here told you why you were brought to me?”

Alastor did not, under any circumstances, appreciate being treated as though he were lesser than this base criminal sinner who didn’t even possess the power of an overlord. “Oh, yes, she did,” he said with a smile. “I was given the impression that, were I not to debase myself to you, you would refuse to assist in Angel’s current predicament. This leads me to wonder why you are so very cross with me, if you would leave him to his own devices anyway.”

Arackniss leaned forward again, pointing at Alastor with his cigarette. “Don’t give me the high hat, pally. I got the rundown from Cherri. You know someone who can get him outta his contract. And I’m gonna get it to that fucker, no matter what you say to me; what you say is gonna determine what happens after.”

Alastor felt his smile tightening. “Please, do enlighten me.”

“You answer my questions, and you ask me nice? I’ll get that contract to you, and Tony’ll be none the wiser about my involvement. You can even tell him you went and got it, I don’t give a fuck. But if you think you’re too good to ask for help, for my brother’s sake?” Arackniss narrowed his eyes at Alastor. “I’ll get the contract. I’ll get it to your contact myself. And after it’s broken, I’ll bring Tony right back here and make sure that he’s well aware you saw your ego as something more precious and worth protecting than his soul. Capisce?”

Alastor didn’t speak for a moment. That… was an alarmingly well thought out threat. “Understood.”

“Beautiful. Please, sit,” Arackniss said with no change of his coldness or aggression, but a distinct change in hospitality as he motioned to one of the chairs before the desk; Alastor took his offer, noting that Cherri Bomb did not do the same, instead electing to… hover over his shoulder, somewhere behind him. “What’s your poison, Mister Radio Demon?”

Alastor couldn’t help marveling at how different that title sounded coming from someone besides Angel, even though the accent was the same. And, since he had agreed to answer the questions he had posited to him, “Rye, if you have it. Neat.”

“American?”

“Of course. Do I seem Canadian to you?”

“Good man.” Arackniss raised his hand and snapped. An imp that Alastor hadn’t even noticed practically scurried out of the shadows, returning with a glass and offering it to Alastor. He took it, keeping his own gaze on Arackniss, who withdrew a cigarette case from his jacket and opened it in offering. Alastor accepted, aware it would be rude not to, but lit it with his own finger. “Now,” Arackniss said, snapping the case shut and slipping it away again. “I ain’t never met the Vees before, but I’m given to understand that you got beef with them. Or, in the very least, with Vox. That the case?”

Alastor rolled his eyes. “Vox takes issue with me. I prefer not to think of him at all.”

“Uh-huh. That why they dropped that piece on the two of you?”

I should have known this would be unavoidable. “Likely. Vox has been most preoccupied with the idea of besting me in the court of public opinion. The fact that his social popularity vastly outweighs my own is, apparently, immaterial to him.”

Arackniss looked as though he were thinking, but about what, Alastor did not know him well enough to guess. “But you have been takin’ my brother out,” he said, pointing loosely with his cigarette. “Those pictures weren’t fake.”

“…no. They were not fake.”

“Alright. I’m curious enough.” Arackniss sat back, resting one elbow on the arm of his chair. “How the fuck’d my little brother end up on the arm of the Radio Demon? From what I hear, you ain’t exactly the type to play butter and egg man for a hoochie-coocher like Tony.”

“What the fuck are you geezers talking about?” Cherri Bomb finally snapped.

“In more modern terms, my dear, he is accusing me of being his promiscuous brother’s easily duped sugar daddy,” Alastor answered without taking his eyes off Arackniss, who was now smirking. “To your question, I presume you know Angel has taken up residence at the Hazbin Hotel, where I currently lend Princess Charlotte my services as hotelier.” Arackniss nodded once, so Alastor continued, “We became acquainted through that residency together, and I suppose it could be argued we became friendly with one another.”

Arackniss tilted his head a little. “Cut the coy shit,” he said. “I know you ain’t a john. So, why were you, a demon known for his inability to politely socialize, takin’ Tony out to clubs and restaurants?”

Alastor closed his eyes for just a moment, calming himself. He wasn’t positive why he was feeling so agitated, just that simply stating it seemed somehow daunting. “…because he is my soulmate.”

The following silence was heavy. Arackniss rolled his cigarette back and forth between his thumb and index finger, all eight eyes focused unblinkingly on Alastor’s face. Finally, he asked, “You his?” Alastor nodded. “Okay. That’s a start. Continue.”

Alastor raised an eyebrow. “I’m not following.” That was a lie, he absolutely was, but knowing how Arackniss would phrase his clarification would tell him a lot. Hopefully.

“You’re soulmates. I’ve been down here long enough to know that don’t mean shit on its own. So, what were you hopin’ to accomplish with these outings of yours?”

Alastor tapped his claws on the rim of his glass. “…when we first… discovered this, Angel was instructed by his benevolent employers that he had a month to find a way to get rid of it. And, as I was less than enthused myself, we spoke to Pentagram City’s resident self-proclaimed ‘love expert’ about a solution. Rosie advised us that a spell to break a soul bond existed, but that not only would she need to locate it, we would need to… complete our spiritual union, as it were. Angel decided this meant an increase in our spending time together, so we did, with an eye towards using it to facilitate breaking the bond.”

“And did you?” Arackniss asked. “Break it, I mean.”

“No.”

“Did you complete the bond?”

“Yes.”

“Did she find the ritual?”

“Yes.”

“Has she attempted to conduct it yet?”

“Yes.”

Arackniss blinked slowly, before he leaned forward, putting out the butt of his cigarette and folding his hands on the desk. “So. You did everything you needed to break it, and then you didn’t break it. Why?”

Alastor tried to draw a deep breath as subtly as possible. “Because… I left.”

“You left.”

“When she asked for my consent during the ritual, I refused, and I left. I presume Angel was taken upon leaving Cannibal Town; doubtless the Vees were paranoid enough to have him followed.”

“Hold it,” Arackniss said. “Don’t think I don’t see you tryin’ to skirt the issue here. You refused. Why?”

“…I don’t know.” The worst phrase in my vocabulary. And yet, it was still true. Alastor couldn’t begin to fathom why he had done what he did, simply that he couldn’t go through with it.

Arackniss didn’t look convinced. “You don’t know.” That echo is getting incredibly aggravating. “You wanted to keep the soul bond?”

“I don’t know,” Alastor said more firmly, trying to keep his hackles from rising and causing more conflict than was strictly necessary.

“Do you love my brother?”

Alastor felt something snap in the back of his mind.

“I don’t think Angel Dust deserves to be tortured because he was stupid and fell in love with someone.”

“I DON’T KNOW!!” Alastor shouted as he surged to his feet and threw the glass in his hand at the wall, where it burst into a thousand tiny shards of glass and beads of alcohol. Arackniss didn’t move, simply watching him impassively, even as Cherri Bomb stopped her wandering and backed up towards the door.

Finally, Arackniss nodded. “About time I got some honesty outta you.” Alastor twitched, projecting radio static that bounced between his anger and his confusion for a second. Arackniss didn’t elaborate on what he meant. “I’ll get the contract to you at the Hotel as soon as I got my hands on it, probably somewhere between two and six in the morning. That gonna be an inconvenience?”

“…no,” Alastor said, trying to keep his voice under control even as his breath hissed beneath the word. “I don’t sleep.”

“A shocking revelation,” Arackniss said blankly. “Just do me a favor and don’t do nothin’ stupid between now and then. It’s only a few hours but I ain’t takin’ chances with you.”

Alastor smiled at him. “Oh, don’t worry, Arackniss. I can be exceptionally well-behaved.” Before he could respond or Cherri Bomb could speak, the shadows opened up beneath him, and Alastor vanished into them, welcoming the embrace of nothingness. It was all too much for him to take; he couldn’t be preoccupied with his own hangups or whatever Arackniss was while Angel was actively in peril. But he could be patient. He could stay out of the way, for now.

Once Blitzø’s contact found that inevitable loophole, Alastor wouldn’t hold back. He would kill Valentino. He would kill Vox. He would even kill Velvette.

But, for now, he was going to repair his desk.

•••

The cables unwound themselves and retracted back into the ceiling with the hiss of metal scraping against metal, and Angel Dust barely had time to register he was free before he fell to the concrete floor with a painful smack.

“Oh, amorcito. Are you alright?”

The sarcasm in Valentino’s voice was even more prominent than it usually was when he inquired after Angel’s well-being. “Nnh,” was all Angel managed to say in response, his limbs trembling as he attempted to shove himself off the ground. They wouldn’t hold his weight, the cold and the loss of blood sapping all of his strength and rendering him barely able to lift his head off the floor.

“Pathetic,” Valentino said before he reached down and grabbed Angel by the arm. His hand felt so hot against Angel’s cold skin that it almost burned, and as Valentino lifted him off the ground and up into his arms, Angel couldn’t bite back a quiet sob. His cheek pressed against Valentino’s furred collar, thick with the smell of pheromones and smoke, and he thought he could pass out again as Valentino cradled the smaller sinner against his chest and carried him from the room.

Angel was only distantly aware of his surroundings as they went through the back halls of VoxTek. It was late, so there were no employees around, just stretches of cool and silent hallways that always managed to feel sort of haunted during the night.

“You’re never leaving this building again, Angel.” Valentino’s voice was matter of fact. If Angel didn’t know him so well, he would think the overlord sounded concerned or even protective. “In fact, I have half a mind to never let you out of my sight.”

You have half a mind, alright.

Angel couldn’t protest or do anything at all except curl into himself, inadvertently pressing into Valentino as he did. “M’cold, Val,” he managed to murmur; at the moment, his only hope for getting any kind of relief at all was to kiss Val’s ass, and Angel wasn’t too proud to pretend to be defeated and sorry if it got him a blanket or even some bandages.

“I know, araña, I know,” Valentino murmured. “I think your current punishment has gone on long enough. After all, you’ll need to be in good condition when the Radio Demon arrives.”

Alastor isn’t here. Angel didn’t know if he felt abandoned or relieved, but it had to be the second one. Alastor hadn’t abandoned him, because Angel had never belonged to him to begin with. He nodded once, hoping Valentino felt the response, and closed his eyes.

Minutes later, Angel was in a room so much warmer than the studio that it felt stiflingly hot. Almost immediately, he began shivering, a tremble that started gently but worked itself into something close to an uncontrollable spasm. Valentino set him on his chaise, stripped him (Angel could barely put up any resistance, not like it mattered), and bandaged him with the same ruthless efficiency he had used the first time he had ever cut his ‘amorcito’ open. Valentino turned away, leaving Angel to lean against the back of the chaise and returning a moment later with a large pink and purple sweater that Angel recognized as one of the overlord’s. The idea of wearing something of Valentino’s—something that would even superficially enforce their master/pet relationship—made Angel feel nauseated, but the thought of remaining naked in front of Val was worse.

But Valentino just stood in front of him, looking at him through his sunglasses with an exaggerated expression of consideration. Angel bit his lip. “…V-Val…?” he managed, sitting up a little better and almost immediately slipping down again.

“I’m not certain I should give you this,” Valentino said, holding the sweater loosely in one hand. “I don’t believe you’ve earned it.”

Angel stared at him. “What…?”

Valentino suddenly leaned over him, pinning him against the back of the chaise with two hands and getting in his face. “You have been a very disobedient pet,” he hissed, baring his teeth, as Angel pressed himself back into the cushion as far as he could. “I should beat you until you can’t move, maybe remove those arms of yours, and deal with Alastor myself if he bothers to come after you. But I think it is so much more… poetic, for you to be the one to slaughter him, don’t you? So, you have the opportunity to save yourself from what I should do.”

“…whaddya want…?”

Valentino’s fourth hand came up to Angel’s face, pad of his index finger pressing into the underside of Angel’s chin. “You are going to make love to me, Angel Dust,” he murmured. “You aren’t going to just lay there and let me fuck you. No, you are going to be an enthusiastic participant as I wipe away every trace of Alastor’s infection from your lovely form.”

Angel’s eyes were wide as he whispered, “Fuck you, Val.”

Valentino didn’t slap Angel; he struck him in the side of the head with the heel of his hand, knocking him off the chaise and onto the floor. Angel cried out in pain, a sound that turned to a scream as Valentino bore down on him and seized one of his arms, pulling it sharply backwards and threatening to pull it out of socket. “What the fuck did you just say to me?!”

The pain in Angel’s shoulder increased until he was certain that Val would simply rip the limb off. “Val! Stop, please, I’m sorry! I’m sorry, Val!!”

Valentino pulled just a little further, then released him, instead seizing him by his hair and throwing him back onto the chaise. Angel immediately curled up in the corner, shielding his head and face. “I am going to give you one more opportunity to answer,” Valentino hissed. “And you should choose your words. Very. Carefully.”

I’m sorry, Alastor.

“O…okay, Val.”

If you care, I’m so, so sorry.

“I’ll do wh-whatever you want. I’ll be good. I promise.”

I’m sorry even if you don’t care.

An hour later, Valentino tossed the sweater onto Angel, who pulled it on as quickly as his aching body would permit. He had done so many disgusting things in his career, but he had never felt so… dirty and defiled as he did watching Valentino place a cigarette in its holder and light it. Even though it was Valentino’s, Angel curled up into it, watching the overlord get to his feet.

“You should try to sleep, amorcito,” Valentino said, carelessly casting the words over his shoulder as he adjusted the clothing he hadn’t even bothered to remove. “I have business to tend to.”

Angel didn’t respond, just watching in silence as Valentino swept from the room, already retrieving his phone from his coat pocket. The moment he was gone, Angel threw himself face down onto the chaise, gritting his teeth against the urge to break down. He couldn’t, not now. Not yet. Maybe not ever.

He wasn’t sure how long he laid there, but it had to have been only a few minutes before he heard the door open again. He startled upwards, but it wasn’t Valentino returning.

“I’m almost surprised you’re conscious,” Vox said with a careless disdain as the door slid shut behind him. He was carrying a glass bottle, and Angel thought he looked very odd in casual clothes instead of one of his usual suits.

Angel folded two of his arms on the arm of the chaise, half burying his face in them and only raising his head enough to peer at Vox over them. “What do you want?” he asked in a raw voice.

“So very rude to your master’s guests,” Vox said sarcastically, walking over to stand over him. He smirked at Angel’s lack of reaction, and Angel wondered if the overlord believed him to be defeated. “I brought this for you. Drink it.”

“What is it?”

“You need your strength,” was Vox’s only patronizing explanation.

Angel narrowed his eyes, but raised one hand, taking it from Vox. It wouldn’t make sense for Vox to be poisoning him or anything like that, because they both knew Vox wanted the enjoyment of watching Alastor kill Angel himself. It smelled awful, but Angel kept his gaze on Vox’s, refusing to react as he drank the full contents of the bottle. It was thick and slimy, oddly cold, and the taste was… foul, like dirty pennies and chlorinated water. He nearly gagged more than once, but managed to keep it down, slapping the bottle back into Vox’s expectant palm and settling back down into the little cove of his own arms.

“There. That wasn’t so bad, was it?” Vox asked. “It will speed up your natural regenerative healing. You should be feeling much better tomorrow morning.” He turned to leave, then stopped. “Oh,” he said, looking back at Angel. “By the way… in case you’re contemplating attempting to flee. We’ve discerned which room in that hotel belongs to you. If you leave the building, I’m killing your pet pig.”

Angel immediately felt like he was going to throw up, clenching his fingers in his sweater. “…I got you,” he muttered.

“Good.”

Vox was halfway to the door when Angel spoke again. “I can’t tell.”

The overlord slowed, and by his hesitation, Angel could tell he was contemplating just ignoring him. But Vox’s curiosity was one of his weak points and always had been, so he sighed, like he was indulging Angel’s childishness. “You can’t tell what, Angel?”

“If you’re jealous of me, or simply pissy.”

Vox snorted. “What could you possibly think I would be jealous of you over?”

Angel didn’t raise his head from his arms, still peering at Vox over the folds of pink and purple fabric. “You know I’ve always been Valentino’s favorite,” he said, keeping his voice level. “And now, I’m Alastor’s favorite, too. He’s been in my bed. I’ve been in his. I even know what he tastes like, what he really feels like, and you… never will.”

The lights flickered dangerously overhead as Vox’s lip curled, his left eye widening. Angel knew that if he looked out the window, he would see more lights shuddering all over the city. He was so still, Angel wasn’t sure he was even breathing.

“I cannot wait for the day that I hear you screaming and begging for mercy in his radio chorus, and he doesn’t simply ignore you, he laughs at it.”

Angel watched Vox leave the room, wondering if he was angry that the doors were automatic and he couldn’t slam them. Vox didn’t look back at him, but he didn’t have to. Angel could tell.

I might never win one again, but I definitely won that one.

It didn’t matter that it wasn’t true.

He would never be Alastor’s favorite.

If he ever had been, he absolutely wouldn’t be now.

•••

#my writing #hazbin hotel #hazbin alastor #hazbin angel dust #radiodust #radiodust fanfic #hazbin radiodust #hazbin cherri bomb #hazbin arackniss #hazbin valentino #hazbin vox

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kariachi · 1 year ago

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The thing, with Gwen's actions in Cooper's premiere- I can't remember the title right now and I'm not looking it up- is that she is choosing to be as rough with Kevin as she is. The show makes it clear that she doesn't have to be hitting him as hard as she is, but she's doing it anyway because Kevin's been a teasing little shit all episode and Gwen believes that that is good enough reason to be use physical violence against him, repeatedly. The show could have used Kevin's role in the plan as a narrative punishment for his behavior and it would have been annoying but fine, but they had to make it clear that this was an interpersonal matter. They could have had her serious, they could have had her apologizing, but instead they have her smiling and happy and blatantly taking this opportunity to punish Kevin for displeasing her. The first episode these two have together as a couple and it entails Kevin being his normal self and Gwen responding with violence. And this isn't supposed to be a red flag.

And I'm thinking about it now and you can see Gwen getting bolder with this shit? Like, she pulls this once each series (off the top of my head) and each time she's more obvious with it? Like, here she's behind the boys, they can't see her expression, it's serious when they can see it, she lies about how hard she has to hit Kevin. In the Pandor episode she's upfront with dropping Kevin out of the air, and doesn't try to pretend she's sorry, but she does lie and say it was an accident, as unconvincing and without any real attempt to be convincing as it is. Then you get to Showdown, where she just straight shoves Kevin and Ben into freefall in front of witnesses without a single word.

Which makes sense, of course, in character, she would get bolder with that shit when she never gets consequences for it. The closest there are to any for her behavior is in the Pandor episode, where Kevin gets kidnapped and tricked into releasing Pandor who attacks her and threatens the area. But even then, the fact that this whole chunk of plot was prompted by her being using violence against Kevin again doesn't come up, and even the lesser issue she apologizes for is brushed aside with Kevin pointing out that she never holds shit against him- which is just canonically untrue. The point being, Gwen never actually has any consequences to her actions hit her. Shit is always brushed off, or in the cases where she's accidentally doing harm the blame is pushed elsewhere (looking at you In Charms Way and fuckers stating that Kevin should have read Gwen's mind apparently and known what she was up to). Even when it's people who aren't Kevin, like her threatening Nocturne- which surely didn't contribute to her developing Stockholm Syndrome, no way would one of the heroes threatening to, quote, "peel [her] like a grape" immediately after a traumatic experience have led to issues- things are just brushed aside.

So yeah, of course she gets more bold with this shit. Any sense that maybe there's something wrong with her actions and she should obscure or hide them (but not not engage in them, apparently) would have been repeatedly undercut by the lack of consequences, and by her being absolved of any guilt in shit with a quickness. The people in she and Kevin's life enable this shit by seemingly just rolling with it all and taking her side. Gwen of AF probably wouldn't have shoved Ben and Kevin into freefall, and definitely not with Rook watching, but by OV she's learned there's no consequences. And from what we're shown that remains the case.

Worse, given what we're shown and that we're shown it consistently, it's more than likely that she pulls similar, if likely smaller scale, shit in their day-to-day life. I've said before, somebody who'll shove their loved ones into freefall in front of witnesses like it's normal is not somebody who engages in healthy relationship patterns behind closed doors.

Personally I like to think that we've seen the limit of what she's willing to pull, because despite what people think I do like Gwen I wouldn't be so pissy about this shit if I didn't, but you could very much use this as an argument that she's going to get worse before she gets better. And I do believe that she could move off this path, but first she would have to get hit with consequences, proper consequences that hit her and aren't just shooed aside by those around her. Because she is a good person- in fact I think in-character the idea that what a Good Person does can't possible be That Bad plays a role in a lot of things from her behavior here and how people react to it to Ben getting away with a some of the shit he does, and that out-of-character it's why you get some fans who'll bend over backwards to explain how nothing they've done wrong was actually them doing wrong- but I think it's likely she's got herself convinced she's not doing anything wrong, with enabling forces on all sides, and would need a solid kick in the pants to realize that she's being an asshole.

She doesn't need to be like this, she didn't need to be like this. But the writers decided this was the person they wanted her to be, and that they didn't want us thinking twice about it or judging her based on her own actions. Same thing happened with Ben. It's poor characterwork in conjunction to story, a tale as old as longform stories.

Just had to go fuck up a perfectly good female lead with their own bullshit and bad humor.

#ben 10 analysis #this wasn't supposed to end up like this but the brain kept braining

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wejustvibing · 1 year ago

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The anti-Nico anons on have me on tears 😭 Not to extend this conversation but I have to disagree on one part, yes while Nico benefitted from white privilege, as every white driver does against Lewis, I don't really remember he or his older fans being so aggressively and overtly racist towards Lewis. Lewis has always dealt with racial microaggressions but I think most of his older fans will agree that things have escalated in the last couple of years on account of the growing incel fanbase and larry shipper-esque white women. Don't get me wrong, I am not trying to defend Nico by any means but his new era hybrid fans (as one anon aptly puts it) who join the sport obsessed with MV and find their way to Nico/Brocedes are definitely the worse than his older fans. They rewrite the history between them, rewrite Lewis' personality to subject Lewis to constant racial harrassment and now a big Brocedes blog invents outrageous lies to fuel the agenda against Lewis. The only thing I have never begrudged Nico for was that he didn't take direct advantage of the antiblack sentiment against Lewis unlike Alonso, MV etc (the bar is in hell I know) but his newer fans are making sure that even that tiny amount of goodwill towards him evaporates. The way they despise Lewis to such a scary extent while obsessing over Brocedes is such strange behaviour. Lewis is only palatable to them as an extension of some mid white man, they hate him otherwise. We don't talk enough about white/nonblack women and their power in fuelling antiblack agenda in every fandom. Lewis' whole personality is reinvented by them so they can sell a delusional shipping agenda or prop their white racist fav.

let me preface this by saying i have a really limited fandom/standom experience. i've protected my peace like no other ever since i became a fan and would have continued to do the same had AD21 not happened. anyway, the point is, most of my opinions on fans/stans are based on recent observations and discourses i've seen. so, i'm not sure how much weight these older fans you're talking about hold to what anons have been discussing. if they agree with what you're saying then good for them i guess but i don't think i've seen them talking about it which could be a me problem.

but. nico. he has definitely perpetuated ugly narratives against lewis during and after his tenure, leading to microaggressions and overt racism. the covert racism has been apparent too and i don't know if it can be ignored given how to this day his word (based on his speculations especially after his retirement since he's not been in lewis' vicinity in literally years?) is held higher than those who have worked closely with lewis AFTER him. just because what? he's won a title as opposed to lewis' 2? i fail to recount this goodwill that you talk about here. maybe he didn't take direct advantage but he perpetuated that shit and benefited all the same.

and oh boy you're bang on about the fans' need to associate every little thing lewis says or does with a white man to make him palatable and tbh it needs to be studied and called out every single day. hybrid fans are the worst but yeah, this is not just a brocedes issue. just because we don't make a big deal out of it doesn't mean we don't seen it.

because how are they spending all their time excessively fetishislzing and hyper-sexualizing him but the moment they need to use their brain (because they're clearly incapable of treating him as just another human), he's on the highest of pedestals, proscribed of making even the smallest of "wrong" move white men get an easy pass for. he needs to be punished and has karma coming for him god forbid he displays a single emotion his white counterparts are forgiven & even lauded for.

he's their "favorite" till it's time to show him the same empathy these mid white men get for worse things. they love him as long as they get to "consume" and do not have to "accept". the fetishization of his struggles, adversities and grace in the garb of solidarity and brownie points (i guess?) is so dehumanizing.

"i love it when his back is against the wall" ummm no? "look he's still pining for xyz because he has repressed feelings" ummm how about fuck no?

but i digress.

#anonymous #good morning i took the plunge rip #bye

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hotpinkstaples · 2 years ago

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the closer i get to the finish line of this rewatch, the more i realize how much of the koolaid i drank as a kid thinking fresley was real. it’s not. it can’t be bc fred’s death was more about wesley than it was about anything or anyone else, and after fred died, illyria became wesley’s object of fixation, and vice versa. not gunn, not angel, and not even pet spike, but WESLEY. i used to think it was bc wesley was just always meant to be sad, but that’s not necessarily the truth. wesley was one of the few characters in ats that got consistent character development from start to finish, but when you look at the characters he was surrounded by, it was whoever could either ADD to the manpain he suffered, or exacerbate his assorted mental illnesses. wesley wasn’t always a jaded antihero, just like wasn’t always a clown. he DID get the significant character development, but he got it at the COST of those around him.

bc even tho gunn was the one who signed fred’s death warrant, it wasn’t gunn who illyria gravitated towards, but it was gunn who had to be stabbed and sent to hell to “pay for his crimes” without ever being able to express exactly WHAT those crimes were, when angel and the rest of the gang had committed similar if not worse sins.

bc once fred and gunn were both out of the picture, wesley went straight back to the deteriorating mentally and physically, except it wasn’t like it was with lilah, who was his equal. illyria was a godking, even if she got depowered, and NOT wesley’s equal, and here is back to pondering why his life is utter shit while fred and gunn have been effectively sacrificed.

because if illyria had infected someone other than fred, and in this case, let’s say gunn - would the fang gang have reacted the way that they did? especially if it was FRED’S fault, would they have shamed and blamed her as harshly as they did gunn? would angel have given fred “you’ll live with what you did 5ever bc ur a good woman?” would wesley have stabbed her in a fit of angst and rage? would fred have succumbed to an eternity in hell as self-punishment?

i don’t think so. i think by the time ats s5 was winding down, nobody in the writing team or in the show really cared about gunn like that. all the foreshadowing we got of the fang gang’s deaths were usually group shots, but INDIVIDUALLY, both gunn and fred became narrative devices to propel wesley and angel (even if wesley died in the end). bc if fred’s death had been about fred, the fact that she died WITHOUT her memories of connor would have been more about her than about wesley, bc it wasn’t wesley who was connor’s mother that summer, it was HER, and it wasn’t wesley who killed her abuser but GUNN, and that her core struggle at the end of s4 wasn’t her feelings for wesley, but her shame and feelings of inadequacy about whether or not she was fit to be called a champion.

it sucks bc when you take a look at how things ended with the fang gang, no one got any justice in the end. they all died horribly in the end, and for what? for what 😭

#angel #angel the series #ats #winifred burkle #charles gunn #wesley wyndam pryce #real talk #buffyverse

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lazaruspiss · 1 year ago

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adding a cut bc hah. aha. im normal.

once upon a time i was talking in the DMs with a friend about betas in omegaverse sex trafficking/breeding rings (essentially being given to omegas as comfort objects) and i got a Very Specific mental image of a mutual noncon scenario, of a beta+omega+one to two alphas. my friend says "is this juicier if the beta wanted the omega. and now is bitter that some random alpha is fucking them better than the beta ever could. even when the omega is trying to beg for the beta. is that anything" and i knew in my heart of hearts i had to make this tim/dick. like the concept had me up the walls so fast.

THEN it got wayyyy longer. like several pages worth of DMs about a ra's/tim/dick plot. which is what im working on rn. current title is 'Nature's Order (As Told From Alpha To Beta)' which Will make sense i swear. i have an outline started and a few context-less lines already.

like i said my notes are literally pages and need to be whittled down but im gonna try and explain it without making an entire essay about a fic i havent even written yet.

SO. timmy. actually im just gonna copy paste this bit from my doc

I have something of a ‘main’ omegaverse AU in my mind, and in that one Tim unlearns his shitty thinking via dating Omega!Steph and having some eye opening heart to hearts. (and getting pegged also helped.) This fic is essentially one huge butterfly effect where Tim and Steph never meet and instead of Steph teaching him about omegas it’s… Ra’s. It goes about as well as you’d think it would.

But even before Ra's, Tim is a bit. hm. sexist in a way that people usually ignore bc he'll "grow out of it". and he's also just very quiet about it bc he sort of knows that it wouldn't go over well. it's important to me that at the start you can look at him and think that if he had just gotten a decent talking to then everything that happens after could have been avoided. bc u know. hurts more when you can look back and go this mightve been avoidable </3

Tim has a Dick obsession, who doesn't! but he has no clue how to approach it normally. Dick is, quite literally, the only omega Tim has hung out with on a regular basis. his parents were betas, bruce is an alpha, and this is pre young justice or a no young justice AU so his social circle is very limited. looking up advice for courting omegas just brings up alpha bro podcasts. (which tim dismisses not bc of the sexism, but bc hes not sure how it would transfer over if he tried it as a beta)

so tim sabotages Dick's medication for his heat and plans his confession for the time he thinks Dick's judgement will be the most impaired by omega hormones. as one does.

Ra's has Also been tracking Dick and his cycles as part of his whole heir thing. Probably because he and Talia got into a fight about her having a baby, or smth along those lines. So hes stealing the detective's omega son to use as a living incubator. as one does.

Ra's kidnaps the both of them, deciding to take Tim for the whole 'omega comfort object' bit i mentioned before.

over the course of the kidnapping it becomes clear that this is an omegaverse sexism kicked up to 11 type of environment. if Tim is a slave then Dick is toy. even narratively i wanna play into it, with perspectives switching from Dick to Tim as Dick loses more and more of his agency. Ra's very much exploits Tim's existing beliefs in order to fully convince him of the A>B>O hierarchy. Even when Ra's punishes Tim he does it in a way that still maintains that Tim is more deserving of basic respect than Dick. (or any other omega, but dick is kind of the main vessel for that)

Also Dick absolutely gets pregnant very early on into the kidnapping, in no small part due to Tim's past interference with his medication. whoops?

And I have way more written out. it gets even worse. it's so fun. it's also crazy long and i am so scared but i Do wanna write it!! just. augh. my doc for this story is already 6 pages total and its almost entirely just notes. anyways. sorry for the wall of text, heres one of the 3 lines i've actually written so far.

"Your alpha never did mate you, by the looks of it. From what Talia's said it seems he hasn't fucked you at all. Poor thing. The detective doesn't know what he's missing." It’s far from the first time someone has insinuated something less than appropriate about Dick and Bruce’s relationship, hell, it’s not even the first time Ra’s has implied it. But hearing it while drugged and tied up in such a violating position is enough to make Dick whimper as he fights against the beginnings of tears in his eyes and a sob in his throat.

dreamy sigh. you know the angst is gonna be fun when just writing the outline has your stomach in knots

#live writing #making a tag like that. dangerous. gives future me permission to do this more often.#i left out A Lot bc i was like.. hm. this might be better as a surprise...#on one hand i want to tell u Everything but on the other :(

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thepaininurneck · 4 years ago

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Okay, wow, never in my life did I think a music video involving giving Satan a lap dance would delve into a conversation about gay rights ( and how gay men are portrayed in media ), but Lil Nas X broke the world with MONTERO, so here I am. We’ve got three things here that I think are important - Internet culture, religion, sexuality. These are the things that I think people are getting too uptight over/not upset enough over, and I wanna rant for a bit, so bear with me on this one.

First, I LOVED MONTERO. I’m a whore for religious imagery/theming/etc. being used in media, and as a former Christian and an openly gay woman, it makes me very happy to see it used in a spiteful manner. MONTERO was gorgeous - sexual, unapologetic, and so clearly pulling straight from Biblical stories. The religion used commonly against us ( here in the US, at least, because I know other religions can be just as oppressive, if not worse, and Christianity isn’t the dominant religion everywhere ) being used in a way that’s expressive of our lives is beautiful. The very clear message of “Oh, I’m going to hell? That’s okay,” is perfect - for so many LGBT people in this country, we’ve been told that we’re condemned to eternal punishment because of something we can’t help. LNX took that in stride and made it art, with MONTERO and the video. I am in full support of it and will be throwing it on my horny playlist.

But here’s why I think this is so important - MONTERO’s release has exposed, in my opinion, where the real issues lie in Western culture. WAP did this too, a little - both of these songs, and their accompanying videos, were criticized using children. “Children watch you”, “how could you expose kids to this”, etc. were complaints hurled at Cardi B and LNX over their music. And in LNX’s case, people used his previous success with Old Town Road - I saw one tweet saying Old Town Road is “every kid’s anthem”, and that their children love Old Town Road. Which is problematic - how can you complain about MONTERO, but allow your child to listen to a song with lyrics such as “Lean all in my bladder”, “Cheated on my baby, you can go and ask her”, “Bull riding and boobies” - Old Town Road is not a child-friendly song by any means, but LNX didn’t include naked breasts, or ( as far as I’m aware ) market the song in a way that showcased those lyrics. So parents let their children enjoy their funny horse song, never looking into the words their kids were hearing daily. But with MONTERO, because they saw at a glance that it was an issue, they assumed this meant the previously “child-friendly” artist LNX, the man behind the funny horse song, was suddenly trying to indoctrinate their children. When in reality, LNX has never catered to kids. He’s always been open about his music and himself, and it’s entirely the parents’ faults for not better monitoring what media their children take in. It is never the responsibility of the creator to change their content for an audience they didn’t want. MONTERO, and WAP, both exposed just how internet culture has allowed parents an excuse to be lazy, hands-off pieces of shit, and demonize creators further.

MONTERO also exposed how homophobia continues to follow us, in how many comments there were calling LNX predatory, claiming he was indoctrinating children and pushing agendas - and, with Kaitlin Bennet’s actual racist comments, now he’s being slandered. ( if you didn’t see that beef, TLDR: Kaitlin asked “do you still see your dad?” w/ blatant intent to hurt, LNX replied with “yeah and I’ll fuck yours”, to which Kaitlin accused him of threatening to rape her father and several small, conservative ‘journalists’ ran with it ). I don’t like throwing around the word homophobia, but this isn’t new - gay men have been called predatory for a long time and demonized for even small gestures like holding hands. And now, an openly gay man made a video celebrating his sexuality ( which isn’t a new topic: look at any music video from the early 2000s for more examples of people expressing sexuality ) and given fuel to these idiots to continue pushing their narrative of “gay man predator, gay man bad”. Fortunately, it’s a lot less than it would’ve been thirty years ago. But the fact that it still happens on this scale, enough that journalists pick it up as a story, and governors, Candace Owens and other prominent homophobic conservative figures jump on the bandwagon....it’s sad. A man celebrating his sexuality shouldn’t be demonized the way it is, and MONTERO is doing an amazing job at spitting in people’s faces.

Cutting myself short here, I think MONTERO was a gift. It’s a work of art in many ways, but the social response it generated is also a blessing in that it shows what we need to prioritize - which is self responsibility. No one is forcing you to watch the gay man give Satan a lap dance, nor are they forcing you to buy his shoes. No one will ever force you into that - you, a consenting adult/teenager, willingly watched it. You’re reading this now of your own choice. If your child is watching MONTERO, you should blame yourself if you’re mad - why didn’t you monitor them better? Teach them to avoid things they don’t recognize online? You failed as a parent to protect your child from what you deem harmful. That isn’t anyone’s fault except your own as their active guardian.

Sex, talking about sex, grinding, lap dances....those aren’t new to music videos. They’ve been happening for decades, actually - early 90’s and 2000’s videos had a lot, and I think some 80’s had them. MONTERO didn’t invent NSFW music videos, the only difference is it’s gay and dared to use religious imagery ( which also isn’t new, but that’s another rant I don’t want to get into ). For once, I actually agree with the masses - this outrage was mostly fueled by homophobia and dumb Christians. And to any Christians reading this ( that didn’t get offended, because if you got genuinely upset by this drama, fuck you ); you’re cool.

Anyways, yeah. I think MONTERO was awesome, LNX killed it as always, and I hate conservatives. Goodnight.

#lil nas x #lnx #I sound like an sjw #but in a good way #might burn down a church later idk #Davey sleepy rants

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treesofgreen · 2 years ago

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So I was rereading the stuff I sent you about the 'proper little seductress' thing and I noticed two things in your response I felt I have to point out. One, when Izzy catches Pete and Lucius in the storeroom he WAITS FOR THEM TO FINISH before saying they're getting chores because they're 'laying about doing fuck-all', not because of the sex, and he doesn't get really mad until Lucius is downright insubordinate towards him, which in literally any other ship would have him publicly flogged. Izzy makes him scrape barnacles. THEN, he catches him with Fang -and he LETS HIM FINISH AGAIN!!! Before trying to add more chores which is when Lucius tips his hand and leaves Izzy reeling. Not exactly... not what I would call violent homophobic behavior, no. And I should add, too: a homophobe does not look at the in-your-face gay that irritates him and does this. A homophobe does NOT get fucking blackmailed by said gay man, whom he physically overpowers in every possible aspect except height, in a world where 'I wanted to' is a valid reason for killing someone, and huffs and walks away. Sure, the narrative of this specific show would have made it so that attempt got Izzy hoisted by his own petard AGAIN, but he would have tried, is the thing. And he doesn't. He huffs, tells Lucius to go fuck himself, and literally doesn't even speak to him again until Ed wants him in the pillowfort. That's. Literally not 'homophobic villain behavior'. There's so much more happening here

I was waiting to answer this because I thought I had something to add but was feeling too poorly to do so but I think you have it all covered. These are excellent points.

Izzy is far more bark than bite and his bark is...almost considerate? For a pirate from non muppet land? Like he's incredibly pissed off and frustrated but he doesn't stop the sex. Doesn't stop the sketching. Assigns chores that need to be done anyway as punishment.

We know there are not going to be any lashes given on the Revenge but Izzy doesn't know that and he doesn't even threaten them with violence. He threatens Lucius with blackmail (although, given what I headcanon about his history and interactions with Lucius is arguably worse than a flogging from Izzy's pov) and fails. Lucius successfully blackmails Izzy and Izzy at no point attempts to harm him for it in any way. If Izzy were a violent homophobe who violently hates Lucius for being gay he wouldn't have stopped trying to tear him down. Instead they seemingly ignore each other until Ed asks for Lucius and Izzy goes and gets Lucius. And just warns Lucius not to tell anyone else what he sees (necessary, given their previous interactions). No lying to Ed and telling him Lucius left or something. No telling Ed to suck it up buttercup and be Blackbeard again in the pillow fort era. No telling Lucius "don't get your soft gay cooties on Ed", no interfering later and making sure Lucius didn't get his soft gay cooties on Ed.

There are so many ways they could have clearly and easily shown that Izzy's problem is the gayness (or even the simple fact of softness!) and they chose to do none of them.

#ofmd #izzy hands #our flag means death #ask #lucius spriggs

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septembersghost · 2 years ago

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I'm confused as to why ppl think things can't have a happy ending. brba did have a happy ending. walt dies but was going to die anyway. he died saving jesse and had it set up to give the money to his family. like how could there have been a happier ending?bob said a chance at a 2nd life and that teaser of after all this, a happy ending? I'm sorry, but why the hell not. if ppl are punished then why can't they have their one true love? pretty sure the lesson has been learned.

you're preaching to the choir tbh, i am always a proponent of an earned happy ending, and "happy" can have a lot of different definitions. i don't necessarily think we're owed that in any given story, but i do fiercely believe we deserve narratively satisfying endings. i've written about this many times, but when i've hated and been very hurt by endings, it's not because they're tragic, it's because they're not satisfying and don't feel right for the stories' and characters' conclusions. tragedy can be beautiful and affecting and important, but it has to mean something, not be a last minute sadistic swerve to shock and hurt your audience. i probably have tons of posts about this, but i'm going to link these: 1, 2, 3 because they all very much speak to this idea.

i was just talking to @kendalroys about the ending of breaking bad - i think it's almost underappreciated now how much humanity and even hope is in that ending, after the oppressive darkness of the rest of the story. (granite state is, to me, by far the bleakest episode of the whole show, and felina is the denouement rising out of it again.) there could've been FAR more upsetting endings, but they didn't do that. like you said, walt manages to get his money to the schwartzes, he sees skyler and is able to give her some measure of closure, along with the coordinates to find hank and gomez's burial site (which is very sad, but better than leaving them unknown out there), he sees holly one last time, and flynn from afar (say what you will about walt, i never doubt he does love his children), and then he heads off to the nazi compound with his m60 in the trunk. he realizes jesse - his partner, his victim, his surrogate family, the person to whom he's most closely connected throughout the narrative - is a captive, and rescues him as he takes all of the nazis out (and they are so evil that we are geared to root for their deaths). his plan works. he dies entirely on his own terms (he's dying already, but wasting away from the cancer in jail would definitely have been a worse ending from walt's point of view), shot by his own weapon, standing in the lab amongst the chemistry that he put above everything. even after all he did and the depths he sunk to, there's still a shred of the person he was in his final actions. it's an oddly triumphant ending for him. jesse speeds away screaming into the night, and the coda of el camino resolves that fully, lets us know he escapes quietly into the light, with a long road of recovery doubtless ahead of him, but a feeling that he is going to find that.

the reason it's hailed as one of the best endings of any show is because it's narratively satisfying. it doesn't have to be nihilistic. it doesn't have to be punishing. it's a moving conclusion for its characters.

as a student of tolkien, i personally love/cling to his concept of the eucatastrophe - that moment when all hope seems lost, and then there is a turn of catharsis and joy. he meant it in the context of fantasy (as a genre), but it can be applied to fiction more broadly.

What made a good [story] not just enjoyable or aesthetically stimulating, but deeply moving? What did all good stories have in common? Eucatastrophe “is a sudden and miraculous grace [...] It does not deny the existence of dyscatastrophe, of sorrow and failure: the possibility of these is necessary to the joy of deliverance; it denies… universal final defeat...giving a fleeting glimpse of joy...poignant as grief.

joy sometimes is seen as...lesser, or childish, or not as profound and mature as grief, and i just don't believe that or think it's a fair assessment. like i said in my other post earlier, hope can't exist without grief, the meaning of both functions together.

i'm wary about how much i say because i've been harassed about this (by another fandom entirely lol), and logically i KNOW bcs is very rooted in noir, and noir tends to be enigmatic in its conclusions at best, but bcs is also (i know i am a broken record here, but it's true!) a love story! that distinguishes it, that's something special about it. and it's part of this same universe they've built hand-in-hand with breaking bad and el camino, and i simply refuse to think that they're going to end bcs on a sadder or more desolate note for jimmy and kim, after everything we've been through with them, after how carefully they've layered their characters and their relationship all these years, than what happened to walt and jesse. i also don't think these writers are into relative moralism and teaching the audience some "lesson" and punishing us for loving morally complicated characters (which is, like, one of my LEAST favorite approaches from storytelling. don't build a story where i'm meant to feel empathy for complex people and then tell me i was wrong to feel it!).

if ppl are punished then why can't they have their one true love? pretty sure the lesson has been learned. right. they have been punished, they have suffered repercussions for their bad actions. i'd let them have each other and their love back if i could decide. <3

#better call saul #bcs spoilers #breaking bad #jimmy mcgill #kim wexler #anonymous #letterbox #*

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arrancxr · 2 years ago

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You hate the Shinigami side for the most part, yes? Are there any that you hate in particular?

Oooooh, this is a good question! owo

From a story standpoint, most of my dislike for the Shinigami side is directed at the system more than the individual people, honestly. I feel like a LOT of their problems are tied to how their society operates, not the people caught up in it. Most of them, especially the ones who aren't at the very top of the ranks, seem pretty decent! However, from the way they approach the conflict with Hollows to the way they treat the people in their own realm, they're awful.

Turning to a meta standpoint, I would have liked the Shinigami a lot better, I think, if they hadn't been cast as the ultimate good guys. It's not fair to expect anything too deep from a shounen manga, I know, but probably the number one thing that bothers me about the Shinigami side is that they're given an author-granted privilege to do whatever they please and still be the designated "good".

Like, Szayel and Mayuri are pretty equal in terms of moral atrocities and general nastiness. And yet while Szayel's sadistic mad science is portrayed as disturbing and evil, to the point where the horrific death he gets is treated like something he deserved, Mayuri... pretty much gets off scot-free. He's a Captain with active permission from the ruling government to more or less do whatever he wants, the people around him (who are supposed to be the good guys!!) never do much more than complain about the creepy shit he pulls, and the main manga ends with him still doing exactly what he wants, with no more punishment than a brief wound to his ego from losing Nemu.

And that's where it irks me. Shinigami are allowed, if not encouraged to be as cruel as they please when dealing with Hollows. We see them do things every bit as awful as the Arrancars' actions, but the narrative insists that, by the sole virtue of being Shinigami, it's somehow acceptable when they do it. The moment when Zommari questions the Shinigami's right to kill Hollows could have been interesting! It could have opened up a whole discussion about the fairness of the Shinigami system, both to the Hollows they're killing and the souls in the Rukongai they're (supposedly) protecting!

Instead, Byakuya shoots down the moral question with no further answer than "because I'm right," and it never comes up again. There's a recurring theme of Shinigami characters being narratively protected from any wrongdoing... when it's done to anyone else.

When Shinigami (or human, by protagonist extension) characters get hurt, it's a bad thing, and the perpetrator is immediately and inherently a villain. When other characters (most notably, Hollows) get hurt, so long as it was a Shinigami that did it, the action is almost always justified somehow, or at least reduced in "badness". The only real exception is when assigned "villain" characters are involved, and even then, that doesn't always make much of a difference.

For example— the Visored are the results of Aizen's inhumane experiments. They suffer for it, for a while, but in the end, they're accepted into the main cast as important characters and "good guys", and it's widely accepted that what Aizen did to them was fucked up and cruel. And yet, Wonderweiss, who's also a result of Aizen's experiments (and is debatably much worse off from them), is shown none of the same mercy. He's relevant for as long as it takes him to be a living fire extinguisher, and with the sentiment of "I can slaughter you without hesitation," is killed and forgotten.

I could go on for much longer here, but I think I've made my point... >.> Though, since you asked about specific Shinigami I dislike, I'll point out a few of those too.

Mayuri — Where do I even start? I'd probably like him a lot better if he didn't get away with so much (I do tend to enjoy awful anime men...), but his utter lack of consequences for anything, ever, just really puts me off. Since he gets a narrative pass for pretty much everything, he's not fun at all! >:(

Kenpachi — Similar to Mayuri, I'd probably be more fond of him if he was written differently. I'm generally a fan of overpowered characters (when they're well-written), but Kenpachi seems to exist solely to be Kubo's Ass Pull vessel whenever he writes himself into a corner and doesn't know how else to kill off whichever nonsensically impossible to beat villain he's set up this time.

Yamamoto — He's pretty much the face of what's wrong with the entire Shinigami system. On top of that, the "wise, ancient leader who's stuck in his ways and far too strict" trope doesn't appeal to me much. I just don't see anything to like about him...

Byakuya — Tbh, his fight with Zommari made me really not like him. His type of character can work, but the fact that Byakuya single-handedly shut down the most promising moment of maybe putting some actual thought into the Shinigami vs Hollows situation ruined him for me forever.

Those are the ones that I actively dislike the most! There are more who are on my ick list because they're just plain boring, but that's a different matter altogether.

#Meta

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where-theres-smoak-2 · 3 years ago

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Also considering how Alina seems being this saviour of Ravka as a burden(though that doesn’t equate hating being Grisha or her powers because that’s not the case!)you would think she would listen more to Aleksander’s POV and decide that keeping the Fold isn’t a bad solution. She can still destroy the Volcra but the Fold as whole could serve as a threat to other countries and could actually leads to the end of the war. At the end she did much worse to Ravka than Aleksander yet he’s the one getting vilified while she gets to reap the benefits of the system that’s abusing her people. What a nice message there,B*rdugo and how convenient that she ends the series(for now)with Zoya being a queen even though she has neither the training nor ability to be a good leader and we have no idea what type of queen she would be.

(Book Spoilers particularly from ROW)

This may be a controversial statement I don't know, and to be completely transparent I am saying this having not read the duology but I honestly think LB made a mistake in going back to the original trilogy characters in the duology. I feel like she should have just left it alone. I mean she had a good thing going with the six of crows characters, from what I can tell people really liked those books and those characters. I can get what she was trying to do, she was a young writer when she wrote the original trilogy and she made some mistakes and wanted to fix them. However from what I've seen of people's reactions to the duology it seems like her trying to fix the mistakes just made those mistakes more obvious and caused alot of contradictions. People expressed their anger at how Alina was stripped of her powers and that this didn't exactly scream female empowerment and so she tried to fix it by making Zoya overpowered but this just highlighted how tragic Alina's fate was. People were upset that there wasn't a grisha on the throne and that it was a Lantsov who even though he was a nice guy was still part of the royal family that had kept the grisha in subjugation, who got the throne. She tried to fix this by putting Zoya on the throne but this didn't make sense because just like how Alina didn't have the training or experience to be general of the second army in S&S Zoya doesn't have the training or experience to be queen. Also I think alot of people felt like it should have been the conclusion of Alina's story, that she should have been that grisha queen and so seeing it go to Zoya, a character that had been mean and unpleasant towards Alina, left a bitter taste in alot of fans mouths. Again it also highlighted just how bad Alina's ending was. The other thing alot of people had an issue with was the darkling's death. So she brings him back and tries to give him a redemption arc. I also find it funny when antis argue that the darkling shouldn't get a redemption arc in the show because he's evil and not every villain should get a redemption. I also find it funny that LB said in an interview that she thinks the darkling is beyond redemption because she literally gave him a redemption arc in ROW! Like correct me if I am wrong because this is based off what others have told me but he sacrifices himself to save everyone else. He went from being someone who the narrative tells us is selfish and power hungry, to someone who makes the ultimate sacrifice in order to spare others lives and save the world, what is that if not a redemption? The definition of a redemption arc is when a antagonist does something to make up for their past sins and mistakes. I feel like suffering through eternal torture to save the world covers that personally. However again this is a fix that doesn't completely satisfy because whilst yes the darkling becomes the self sacrificing hero it is written in a way that, one still serves as more of a punishment and two is begrudgingly given, I mean there's a scene where the 'heroes' debate whether or not they should let him play the part of the hero. To be honest when I read that extract I actually found it really uncomfortable and well icky. I mean it was these same people that had caused the problem in the first place by not listening to the darkling when he said they should destroy the fold they should use it as a tool and weapon against their enemies, now they are mocking the darkling's solution because heaven forbid they let him be seen as a hero for making a sacrifice that will cause him an eternity of endless suffering. I mean when you think about what the darkling was going to have to go through in order to save them all its really appalling to see these supposed heroes talking so callously and with so little empathy about it. It was actually that extract that made me finally decide that I definitely wasn't going to waste my time reading the whole duology. But I really do think it would have been better if she had just left those characters as they were and either focussed on the six of crows or

created a whole new world with new characters. But as always that's just my opinion.

#aleksander morozova #the darkling #rule of wolves spoilers #answered #anti leigh bardugo

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cblgblog · 3 years ago

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I know I’m probably beating a dead horse at this point but I feel like it isn’t talked about enough how the accord do not and will never affect Tony the same way they’ll affect those like Steve & Wanda. Tony can always just blow up all of his suits again & go back to a fully normal life if he wants to. He doesn’t have to wear a tracking bracelet, or submit dna samples, or fear getting shoved into a straight jacket or electroshock collar if he gets arrested. I’ll I just don’t think it’s addressed enough how blatantly privileged Tony & other normal humans like rhodey & nat would be under the accords compared to their other teammates. No wonder they were so supportive of them from the beginning.

Ah, but what is fandom for if not the beating of dead horses?

I agree with you. I generally prefer the film over the comic event (granted I haven’t read it in a few years now), but I do like that the Civil War comic had more time to discuss those civil liberties issues. Like, the damn thing, as with most comics events, is annoyingly massive. Not if you just read the core 6 books of the main CW storyline, but the tie-ins, oh my God the tie-ins. Comic events and their damn tie-ins…

For the sake of telling a fuller story though, I do like that the comics had so damn much. There was much more room for side content, for lesser characters who aren’t in the MCU, or weren’t, at the time. There’s a fuller picture of why various people are taking the sides they do. Some of those reasons make more sense than others, but yeah.

There’s a bit from the comics that I’ve posted before where Tony and Peter (mid 20’s, his own hero Peter, not Frankenstein, Tonky Jesus fanboy Peter) are arguing about the Registration Act—as it’s called in the comics—and talking about the civil liberties being violated. Being a 2006 book, it’s got a very post 9/ll, Guantanamo Bay theme going. The lack of trial, of legal representation, the prison that’s even worse than The Raft. There are several scenes like this as I recall, and yeah, the film is sorely missing them in places. You kind of see it with Team Cap in The Raft, but it’s very much a quick thing in the larger narrative of the film, and that’s annoying.

I’m not exactly advocating for this, because the film version with it’s smaller focus works a lot better in many respects, but I do sometimes think of the alternate reality where Disney Plus existed sooner, and Civil War was turned into a series instead of a film. Say six episodes, match the number of installments in the main comic event, eight eps if you wanted to push it. Then we could get something that delved deeper into what these documents actually say, what the public’s reaction to them is, how they would affect people besides our core Avengers group.

Show some kid like Peter who has abilities but doesn’t want to go out and fight bad guys, just wants to live a normal life. Show someone who can’t reveal their Enhanced nature to friends or family because it wouldn’t be safe for that person. Show the every day or every day-ish people (ala the Netflix shows) and where they stand on this. Wanda talks about people being scared of her after the Lagos incident and you kind of see that, but not really. Actually show that. Show the fears that people have of these Enhanced people, the legit and less legit ones, and show the other side too, the regular, every day people who still look at this and say hey, no, hang on, this is wrong.

Again, not necessarily saying I’d want this over the film, but if the Mouse overlords ever wanted to revisit that storyline and expand on it, I wouldn’t complain.

And yeah, people have talked about this too, but it kind of sucks the way the film handled everyone and their reasons for siding how they did. Steve is all about choice and keeping the government from abusing its citizens ala Hydra, Tony’s got his whole, we need to be kept in check thing, but very few of our other players land where they land because of the actual Accords. Nat doesn’t want her Avengers family to fall apart, and wants to maintain some control over the situation rather than none. Rhodey’s the career military man who (generally) follows orders and hey, if this is what most people want, we don’t get to just decide eh, no thanks. Panther doesn’t care about any of this, dude just picks the team that’s going after Bucky. Peter doesn’t know what the fuck he is actually fighting for, Tony didn’t tell him, Scott and Clint are there because Cap asked, and also, presumably, because of the danger the Accords would put their family in, but that second point is never explicitly stated.

And Sam…I feel like we really got fucking robbed with Sam, especially in light of what we’ve learned about his character in Falcon and WS. The film doesn’t much go into his reasoning, beyond the fact he believes in Cap, he’s Cap’s ride or die, etc. But given the history he has in Falcon and WS, again, we were robbed. Dude is all about making sure minorities aren’t oppressed, aren’t punished for existing. Dude is very much aware of the double-standards in this country. I know that stuff was written in later, but my God did we miss out on a Sam monologue about this in CW. Sam, who’s like Nat and Tony in that he can theoretically hang up the wings and be free of the Accords, but still takes the other side. Would’ve been hella interesting to see Sam and Rhodey’s little argument they have about it be an actual scene, an actual debate. Sam who knows of the US government and it’s unjust laws and abuse of power, knows it long before he hears of Isiah Bradley. Who has those nephews that will have to grow up in a post-Accords world. It just would’ve been super interesting to see Rhodey and Sam, both Black men who joined the military, one who left, one who didn’t, have an actual discussion on why they feel what they feel. Even discounting the finer details of the Sam stuff, the stuff that wasn’t written yet, it would’ve been cool.

And, of course it would’ve been awesome to see Tony and the non-powered on Team Iron Man (but mostly Tony) get called out on their privilege with this issue, but that of course couldn’t happen, because Tony has plot immunity. Let fire and lightning pour forth and destroy all who dare to question the wisdom of Tonky Jesus, praise be to Tonky and all he has given us.

#pro steve rogers #pro team cap #anti tony stark #anti tony stans #anti team iron man #anti iron man #sam wilson #fatws

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nina-vonnegut · 3 years ago

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Talking to my bff about mayans/soa and it got me thinking about Gemma.

Before all of this gets away from me I want to say that this isn't me even entertaining the idea of intention on Kurt Sutters or anyone else's mind. This also isn't me turning the narrative around and making soa out to be some feminism show. It's not. It's really not. It's a macho sausage fest. But this post goes out to the girlies.

So. Gemma. Queen Bee. HBIC. She is the soa enforcer when it comes to women in the show and around the club. She calls women sluts, whores, etc. and far worse stuff. Sometimes her dialog could be spoken by a dude on the show and I wouldn't even blink, esp. when it comes to degrading women.

And by all accounts she won that way. She is the ultimate old lady, highest ranking woman present at all times, even when she is not the wife of the clubs prez. She is playing the patriachys game, she is one of the boys; she is winning. People either hate her for behaving like that/or judge her far harsher than the dudes or are in love with her; kinda affirm her actions and try to immitate her cause they are "bad bitches" too.

Screw intention on Sutters part but is she winning? Truly? She is the one woman who suffers the most gendered crimes, most often on the show. And she is the one woman who would be a good addition at the clubs table cause she cares about the club and isn't afraid to kill people over it. And still never gets to be one of the brothers.

Gemma is someone who "gets the life" and protects it, for that she is rewarded. But rewarded as a woman. She is still "just" an old lady even if the is thee old lady. And she gets punished as a woman when she missteps. Just like the other not old ladies, the ones she looks down on.

Even before Clay/Gemma conflict on screen she tells Tara that it's not the first beating/smack that she took. It's implied that either John and/or Clay hit her. While Tara is shocked, Gemma is more "that's the life" about it. Both her husband's cheat/ed on her regularly, and while it happens on runs, she is supposed to be fine with it. And pushes that narrative. The conflict only arises cause the girl shows up. Gemma is raped and beaten when the club has enemies and is instructed to deliver a message. She is later beaten by her husband on screen, when she tries to argue with him earlier that the club doesn't do drugs he grabs her by the throat and tells her that she doesn't tell him what the club does. Conveniently forgetting that he uses her as a battering ram to tell everyone else what the club does and quiet liked her cheer-speeches in the earlier seasons. As long as she is "in line" she apparently can tell what the club does/stands for.

Later her son pimps her out, literally, to that husband who beat her viciously, her son knows this, cause he needs information from him and she is supposed to honey trap him into sharing. Much later, after she admittedly kills his wife, that same son shoots her from behind and kills her. She is shown to give him permission cause that's "who they are". She is the most driving force behind the "outlaw life" in the show. Should have patched her in and given her an outlet for all the ideas.

And as much as she is the hbic she gets sex crimed every season at least once! As much as she plays the game and shits on other women she gets punished just like them. Let that sink in for a sec before you break your neck posting "Gemma was right etc." and immitate her too much by "putting bitches in their place". Remember how Gemma was put in her place by the dudes whose rules she followed to a T.

Tara, most behatedest, who hated the life/style and the club and even at her most "gemmafication" didn't enforce the boys club rules as much, doesn't get "put in her place" the same way. She doesn't stand for and accept some default behaviors. Again, the show isn't feminist tm and Tara does her fair share of fighting women too, but she does punish and hold Jax responsible for misstepping, cheating as much. She isn't beaten by a man ever, she isn't raped, she isn't pimped. Her most horrific physical injury/handicap/illness is completely "sexless". In fact she pretends to have a miscarriage and blames it on Gemma and because Gemma behaves the way she does Jax believes she caused it.

So while I think hating Gemma is understandable, she did *all this*, one cannot ignore that she also got "got" every season. And while I think it's cool that Gemma brought confidence and a certain attitude to women and their self perception I don't think one should ignore how her hating other women and playing by the boys rules, enforcing them on other women, didn't help much in the end when it came to domestic violence and such.

#klukvatalk #putting this in the tags in case someone wants to chat. interested in all the opinions. agreeing or disagreeing #gemma teller #soa #gemma teller morrow #sons of anarchy

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imagining-in-the-margins · 4 years ago

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Here to Misbehave (Pt. 23 | S.R.)

Summary: Spencer’s birthday plans get interrupted by a case. Frustrated by Reader’s busy schedule, Spencer finds a unique way to spend time with her. Couple: Spencer Reid/Fem!Reader Category: Smut (NSFW, 18+) Content Warning: Mild exhibitionism, fingering, penetrative sex, unprotected sex, Dom/sub, light choking, degradation/praise, sub space Word Count: 7.3k

MASTERLIST

—————————————————

Waiting for Spencer Reid was an interesting position to be in. It was also, unfortunately, very, very common. You would think the IQ points would translate to efficiency, but you’d be very wrong. The only thing that boy does fast is read, and even that didn’t follow through to text messages, considering he’d read none of the six I’d sent him in the past hour.

So, naturally, as one does in an emergency, I called him. Unsurprisingly, the phone barely rang a second time before he picked up. Talking was, as we were both aware, his forte. Without even waiting for my greeting, his groggy voice came through the receiver with a song-like sound.

“Hello, little girl.”

But it wasn’t his turn to sing, and he knew damn well why I was calling. I could hear the smirk on his face so well that I could also envision exactly what he looked like in that moment, with his fluffy hair sticking up from constantly running his hands through it and his eyes only half-open as he tried to finish reading whatever horrible thing that he had in front of him.

It wasn’t how anyone should be spending their birthday. Especially not him. There wasn’t really anything I could do about it, though that didn’t make it any easier to hear the exhaustion and sadness behind that scratchy voice.

“What’re you doing up late? It’s past your bedtime, you know,” he chastised before I even had a chance to speak. He wasn’t wrong — It was 3AM where I was. But where he was, it’d just hit midnight.

“I just wanted to wish a happy birthday to my favorite old man,” I purred back once I’d managed to calm my fast-beating heart. I wondered if I’d ever get used to the brief rush of adrenaline and relief when I heard his voice for the first time after some time away.

I hoped not.

Spencer didn’t seem impressed by my reasoning, though. “You’re sweet. Go to sleep.”

“You’re up, too,” I whined, still picturing the way he would undoubtedly pull the phone further away to lessen the noise. I almost asked if he was also picturing me but stopped when I realized that whatever he had in mind was probably a lot more exciting than reality. Then again, he often told me that moments like this were his favorite. When we’re both too tired to keep our eyes open but too happy to be with each other to let them close all the way.

“Barely,” he corrected.

“Besides, I had to stay up. It’s your birthday.”

I’d meant to lift his spirits, but the long pause after I finished made it evident that my efforts were for naught. He almost seemed even more upset than when he’d answered, and I tried to convince myself that it had nothing to do with me. It wasn’t that hard, considering he was probably staring at images or words of dead people.

“Yeah, sure feels like it.”

His tone alone ensured me it was worse than my imagination.

“Put your work down and pay attention to me instead,” I suggested as softly as I could with the neediness bleeding through, “That’s the first part of your present.”

“You’re my present?” he asked through a gruff laugh that made my heart skip a beat, “I like that present.”

He was trying. I could feel it in his voice, and I wished more than anything that I could teleport to where he was and hold him until it was too difficult for his mouth to form a frown.

“You already have me. That’d be like regifting,” I pointed out with only a pinch of self-deprecation. It was still too much for Spencer, though, who swiftly shot back the ever cheesy, “Every day with you is a gift.”

“Gross, don’t get all sentimental with me,” I ordered playfully.

He returned the energy with all the sass I always knew he was capable of. Once his whining ceased, he mumbled, “Do you come with a gift receipt?”

“No returns or exchanges allowed, I’m afraid.”

Spencer just let out a strained sigh, and in my head, I imagined how it would feel to climb onto his lap as he leaned back in his chair. I could almost feel his arms wrapping around my waist and his lips peppering kisses wherever he could reach. I could feel his love for me flowing across the country, persisting past the cell tower obstacles to make its way back to me.

“I can’t wait to see you again,” he whispered, his first purely sincere statement of the night.

It was an unfortunate choice, too, because it also reminded me of the biggest bummer that I unfortunately had to share.

“Oh, I meant to tell you, it’s midterm season, so…”

He was, thankfully, not as bummed as I was expecting. He was almost certainly thrilled to have a chance to sleep spread out on his bed without having to satisfy the very needy girl beside him, but he still managed to come up with enough bratty energy to scoff, “Are you telling me that I don’t get my gift when I get home?”

“It’ll just be a few days. Promise,” I spoke through the biggest, cheesiest smile I’d had yet. “You’re very distracting, Dr. Reid.”

“When are your exams?” His enthusiasm gave away just how disappointed he was with the news, but any frustration was clearly aimed at my poor professors.

“My last one is on Wednesday.”

The gasp that left him was too funny not to laugh, followed by exasperated, blubbered nonsense that didn’t ever get much clearer. I barely managed to understand him when he cried, “Don’t they know Halloween should be a national holiday?!”

“You should call my professors and yell at them.”

He actually considered it for a moment, but then returned the same silly intonation, “Maybe I will.”

“Do it. You’re probably more qualified than them to teach me, anyway.”

After a short silence that was filled with more sexual tension than I’d expected considering how the phone call started, I heard Spencer gruffly comment, “You’re a cocky little brat tonight.”

It was so familiar to me that I jumped on the opportunity, giggling through my sleep deprived delirium, “I’m in rare form for your birthday.”

The explanation earned me a chuckle, but not much else. At least, not that I could see. The static on the other end of the phone sounded a lot like the way it looked when Spencer leaned his face against his palm and tried to see something that wasn’t there.

But I was there. Sort of. We’d done a lot more with a lot less, after all. So, that’s what I offered him.

“You know… we could have a redo of the last time I called you late at night on a case.”

“That did not end well for me last time,” he droned. I tried not to laugh at the manufactured memory of Spencer holed up in a hotel bathroom because he just had to have me in whatever way he could.

“Only happy endings for your birthday. I promise.”

But then, as it always did, work got in the way. Filled with only the greatest sadness and regret, Spencer quietly but honestly replied, “As much as I would love to, I don’t think it’ll be possible on this case.”

“Is it that bad?”

“Unfortunately.”

I bit my lip because there was nothing I could do. I couldn’t help Spencer with his work any more than I could fix the distance. All I could offer him was a safe home to return to. He would always find that with me.

“Well, in that case, I will be equipped with cartoons and kisses upon your return,” I offered with grace.

But I wasn’t the only one in rare form. Without skipping a beat, Spencer corrected with a smug sadness, “You mean your return. Considering you’re abandoning me on my birthday.”

“Oh my god, the drama!” I cried before remembering that it was, still, in fact, 3AM. The light grimace I gave after remembering would be the only apology my neighbors would get from me. I was too busy building a narrative happy enough to drown out the horrors in front of him. “You’d think I was the one who was away all the time.”

“I’m allowed to be selfish; it’s my birthday,” he sang, and I soaked in the sound, storing it away for any rainy days.

“Fine. What do you want, brat?” I asked in the worst attempt at an impression I’d ever given.

He was just waiting for the question. Drawing out the first couple of syllables, he laughed through the stupidest birthday wish of all time.

“I want… you to go to bed.”

“Ugh!” I yelled again, not even bothering to feel bad about it that time. My exasperation fell on deaf ears, both from a willful desire to ignore my suffering and a literal ringing from the constant yelling.

Still, that impossible man drummed up enough compassion to gloat with a simple, “I love you.”

“I love you, too, jerk,” I grumbled, only to be swiftly corrected with a playful, “Try that again.”

“I love you, too, old man.”

He was satisfied enough with that answer, despite the sarcasm dripping from it. He still knew that the words were true, and that was all that mattered. Any punishments that might be necessary for my broken promise to behave for his birthday could always be doled out later. When the distance between us was narrowed to inches and clothes could be removed like cheap wrapping paper.

“Thank you, little girl. Sweet dreams,” he whispered, reminding me once more of just how empty my bed felt without him. I stared at his pillow for just one second before I threw myself into it. He chuckled at the sound of rustling sheets over the receiver but said nothing else.

“You get some sleep tonight, too, okay?” I asked, uncharacteristically and openly vulnerable in a way that used to scare me.

Spencer’s voice was filled with pride and love as he answered, “You can’t see it, but I am giving you a pinky promise.”

“Good.” Burying my face in his pillow again made it easier to remember that it wouldn’t be forever when I said, “Bye, Spencer.”

“Goodnight, little girl.”

—————————————————

Autumn on campus felt pretty similar to the rest of the year. I wished that it were different, a little more exciting, to reflect how I felt about the impending holiday. But no, it was just students stumbling into their usual classes and hectically scheduled midterms with hangovers and a total lack of holiday cheer.

It was, in a few words, a complete bummer. The only thing that kept me going through the last of my exams was the knowledge that I’d be seeing Spencer. Unfortunately, he was still doing that rather annoying thing where he refused to answer my text messages. It wasn’t until he ignored even my most ridiculous threats that I realized something was going on.

The ‘Read’ notification sat menacingly on my screen, and I was so fixated on it that I almost didn’t notice the familiar mop of brown curls visible in the front row of the auditorium. But once I saw it, the phone was forgotten faster than ever before. I ran down the steps at a ridiculously dangerous pace, dodging the others still grumbling from their previous exams.

I landed in front of him with only enough breath left to sneer, “You’re in my seat.”

“Surprise,” he said with my favorite smug, self-assured smile.

“Adorable. Now move,” I ordered with a wave of my hand. As much as I loved the guy, I wasn’t about to change my seating arrangement for him. It was beginning to make sense, though, why my friend told me that she wouldn’t be sitting with me today.

“Fine,” he sighed, taking his sweet time moving seats and watching me happily bounce on my feet in the meantime. I snuck behind him into the seat before he’d even fully stood up. That little amount of friction between our bodies seemed to be enough to cause the tension to mount. It’d only been seconds, but I was already seriously considering abandoning the class. To hell with the professor who’d already seen me.

But Spencer’s eyes locked on mine, and he leaned onto the armrest with that same silly smirk.

“It’s a workday, Dr. Reid,” I whispered, forcing my arm next to his and watching the way his pupils grew as I came closer.

“I might have pulled a few strings,” he replied just as quietly, keeping the illusion of secrecy despite many prying eyes around us, “Might’ve told Hotch I was invited.”

“But you weren’t,” I snorted.

Spencer’s head hung in just a little bit of shame, but his wide smile never waned. It was still there, bright and pure in its simplicity as he softly admitted, “Yeah. I lied. But I’m here now.”

There were no complaints about that fact, either. His pinky reached out to mine, twining together in the dim light of the auditorium. Somehow, for a brief second, I forgot about everything else. The noisy chatter meant nothing to me, the two of us lost in some alternate pocket universe that felt safe and warm from the cold air outside.

But time resumed, and I watched as Spencer took his eyes off of me first, turning instead to the lecturer watching us with a knowing glint in his eyes.

“Good morning everyone! We have a special guest with us today.”

I wanted to pay attention to his little introduction, but I couldn’t. Every word that was said about him sounded so clinical. It felt so empty compared to the truth I knew about him. He was so much more than a collection of publications and PhDs.

He was… indescribable. Even as his mouth formed a flat line and his awkward handshake was granted to the crowds of disinterested students, all I saw was the man I wanted to spend the rest of my life with. Even if it was only from the shadows of his greatness. Then again, I don’t think he’d ever let me feel that way.

Speaking of…

"Dr. Reid, the only thing I ask is for you to give these wonderful students a chance to show you what they know,” my professor started with a laugh before he so kindly continued, “So go easy on them."

In any other situation, I might have let it slide. I would have accepted the fact that Spencer was far beyond my intellect and not stand up for myself. But this time, Spencer was on my turf.

"All due respect to Dr. Reid, I don't think he needs to go easy on us,” I called from the front row, only audible to the other dutiful students that cared enough to sit up front. I heard Spencer laugh beside me, shaking his head just a little bit at the challenge. He didn’t say anything though, and I returned my eyes to the professor who was already familiar with my antics as I boasted, "At least not on me."

While Spencer caught on to the fairly obvious double entendre, shifting his crossed legs closer, the professor just wrote it off as my usual academic pride.

“I did try to warn you that that one might get competitive,” he commented. At this point, everyone had definitely figured out my relation to the man next to me. It was kind of hard to hide a bullet wound from your school. But again, I was so caught up in the man beside me that I didn’t even feel a little shame at their playful teasing.

Spencer’s commentary was the only thing that mattered, and he gave it with a dreamy sigh. "I'm not offended at all. I'm sure she's very clever."

The little bit of light left in the room started to fade, and once I was shrouded by the shadows, I felt confident enough in my plan to dig through the bag at my feet to pull out probably the nerdiest item in it.

A fucking back-up clicker. Which, I promptly handed to the man beside me.

“You’re in seat B4,” I whispered gruffly, earning yet another snarky chuckle from my boyfriend.

“Is that a challenge?”

I didn’t answer. Not him, anyway. What I did answer was the question that had appeared on the screen.

“Ms. (Y/n)?” My professor called, recognizing my seat number without even looking up.

Luckily for me, today was nothing but a review day of the midterm I’d already taken. While I knew all of the questions and, what I’d hoped were the right answers, Spencer had to read the questions from scratch. Really, it didn’t give me an edge. It just put us on equal playing ground.

As I gave my answer, I watched in my peripherals as Spencer’s eyes narrowed and tongue peeked out from lips that I still hadn’t gotten the chance to kiss today.

It was a bad thing to think about, because my brief reverie of the things that mouth was capable of reminded me of another one. I didn’t even notice another question had appeared on the screen, and when I heard the familiar buzz of an attempted answer, I shared my Professor’s temporary confusion.

“Ah, Dr. Reid,” he laughed, probably already regretting welcoming the bastard here, “Please explain the answer.”

But there was another thing working in my favor: My boyfriend’s giant fucking ego. Really, it should be impossible that someone who was normally super insecure could enjoy showing off as much as he did. My professor didn’t mind, because Spencer’s long-winded answer was a wonderful review of… basically the entire course, and I didn’t mind because it granted me the one thing I needed.

Time. Time to slowly remove my jacket and reveal the sweater underneath. Spencer’s eyes caught the motion, glancing over only a couple of times while he managed to give his answer. It wasn’t until I started to remove the sweater that he cut his answer short.

His throat clearing told me he wanted my attention, but I was still just too distracted for him. I fanned my chest that felt warm for reasons other than the temperature of the room, guaranteeing his eyes would stay there long enough for me to catch the next question before he had a chance.

Or so I thought. Because before the question appeared, I made the positively stupid mistake of meeting his gaze. As soon as I did, my mind was stuck there, drowning in molasses and honey and—

“Dr. Reid, please feel free to continue to do my job for me. Lord knows I would love a break,” the professor joked, and I almost felt guilty for just how genuine he sounded. Not like Spencer would have noticed passive aggression if it existed.

Not like either of us would have cared. Per usual, we were so lost in the space of B4 and B5 that we didn’t care about the rest of the alphabet. All we cared about was winning. It was growing more and more obvious to me, though, that I would have to become a little more ruthless if I wanted to bring down the bona fide genius.

The sound of his voice rang through the auditorium loud, clear, and confident. He didn’t need to worry if he was right or not, because he knew he was. The smugness was grating to my ears. I knew I couldn’t trick him into making a mistake, but there was one thing I could do.

I’d learned one thing very well in my time with Spencer, and that was how to manipulate that pretty little voice of his.

For example, if I wanted to hear it catch in his throat and come out a few pitches higher, all I would have to do is touch him. The riskier the touch, the higher his voice would go. Which was why I spread out the jacket over my lap, making sure that our legs were close enough that it covered him, too. Then I waited, calmly and kindly listening to him drone along until there was a natural enough inflection to hide evidence of any nefarious actions. Just as his voice started to rise, I slid my hand over his knee.

Spencer barely stuttered, just enough for me to know he was affected, but not enough for anyone else to notice. He took the loss with grace, quickly ending his answer with a summary that contained only half as many words as he would have normally provided.

He kept a few for me.

“What do you think you’re doing?” he hissed, shifting close enough to me that I could feel his breath on my ear.

“All’s fair in love and war,” I hummed. His breath caught again when I began stroking my thumb over his leg that had just started to bounce.

“This is wildly inappropriate.”

“How perceptive,” I returned with my own little smirk. The interaction caught us both, trapping us in the alternate dimension that existed when we held each other. His hand found its way to mine, and his thumb brushed over the back and sent goosebumps shooting over my skin.

I’d practically abandoned our pursuits altogether when I heard my friend’s voice as she took the question that we’d both missed. I should��ve been upset for losing after all that I’d gone through for my strategy to succeed, but it was hard to feel anything other than butterflies when Spencer was still looking at me like that.

Even when I looked away, he stayed, patiently waiting for me to take the final question in the review. I granted him a chance to take it, but he just shook his head, implicitly asking me to take the win for the both of us. Even when we were competing, we were always on the same team.

There were no more distractions as I explained the answer as simply as I could. I was positive the rest of the class was tired of hearing our voices, but Spencer never stopped smiling. I could feel the pride rolling off of him, his hand growing tighter around mine as he took in a deep breath.

“Very good, (y/n),” my professor announced, signaling the end and initiating a large sigh of relief from everyone else.

Spencer sighed too, although his was with a different kind of relief; a dreamy, soft sound as he muttered under his breath, “Just like I said. Very clever.”

The air felt positively electric, and I never hated my class more than I did in that moment. The rest of the period ticked by so slowly that I almost swore the clocks were broken. Once we were allowed to leave, Spencer insisted on sticking around to thank the professor for his hospitality.

I knew it was necessary, but that didn’t mean I had to like it. I tried to be as patient as possible, even though it seemed pointless. Spencer’s little grin told me he knew very well what he was doing. The conversation had dragged on for practically five minutes of agony while I idled by the door.

But then my professor passed, and I felt the adrenaline course through my veins in seconds. As anticipated, we didn’t even make it out of the building before the tension broke. We’d barely even made it down the goddamn hallway before I shoved his scrawny ass into the first empty classroom I found. Once the door clicked shut behind us, the roles were quickly reversed.

I hadn’t seen him that excited in so long that I’d almost forgotten how easy it was to get swept up in his undertow. I couldn’t keep track of his hands or his mouth as they marked any bare skin they could find. But no matter how frantic and uncoordinated the movements were, they never ceased to send chills down my spine.

“This is wildly inappropriate, Dr. Reid,” I managed to slur between sloppy, heated kisses. It was barely comprehensible through the pent-up lust that had driven us there in the first place, but it still felt worth saying.

Spencer, however, made his feelings very clear with a gruff, forceful, “I don’t care.”

His hands were already roaming over my hips, pulling me so close to the edge that I nearly fell off the counter entirely. While I was laughing at his haste, he was busy leaving angry marks on my collarbone, pulling the top of my shirt down to grant him more access. And despite how badly my body burned with desire and need, I drummed up just enough self-preservation to force out a few, regrettable words.

“Take me home.”

Even though I tried to make it sound more seductive than a normal request to stop, it brought the momentum to a halt. Spencer immediately stopped his kisses, but let his hands continue to stroke loving patterns over the sides of my thighs.

“Don’t you have other classes?” he asked. The feeling of his breath against my ears making me second-guess my already voiced decision. But as enticing as the idea was of having him now, having already waited over a week, I knew we could have so much more fun with a little bit of privacy.

“Don’t you have work?” I teased, hoping that it would spur him to take the action we both knew was safer. At the same time, I couldn’t stop myself from wanting to poke fun at the academic in him.

“Unless this is your way of telling me you've always wanted to fuck a girl in a lab because, I must admit I'd be more than happy to oblige."

Spencer’s whole body tensed as he imagined just what it would feel like to take me in such a public place. After a couple seconds that I can only imagine were filled with fantasies and a reasonable fear, he pulled me from my seat on the counter and placed me back on the ground.

“Let’s go,” he said, pulling me by my wrist towards the door.

I only barely managed to stop him with both hands on his arm. He turned back to look at me like I’d done some horrible thing, but I was too busy trying to stop the laughter that was spilling from my chest.

“You’re uh—” I cleared my throat, pointing to the very noticeable tent in his slacks before I keened through the giggles, “You’re gonna have to do something about that.”

With a quick glance down, Spencer remembered the very unfortunately obvious trait of the male anatomy. “Fuck,” he stated plainly.

I couldn’t resist.

“I mean, I’m down,” I joked one final time.

“Shut up!” Spencer laughed, too, trying and failing to adjust himself in his pants while I just enjoyed the show.

After all, we both knew that once we were alone, he would get a reprieve from my ridicule. He would get whatever he wanted.

—————————————————

The chaotic clashing of hands and mouths continued seconds after we’d reached our destination. The empty apartment had all of the sounds of our desperation echoing back to us, and after soaking in the melodious noise for a few seconds, I snapped back to reality.

“Okay, she doesn’t get home for another 30 minutes at the earliest so, we’d better hurry,” I urged, trying to shove Spencer off of me to convince him to move. It barely worked, with his arms clutching tighter the harder I struggled to get away.

Wrapped together just like that, the two of us barely made it a few feet before we almost tumbled to the ground. That was just enough of a reminder of our lack of coordination for Spencer to finally, begrudgingly, release me. Kind of. His hand still held tight to mine, and our laughter still combined the whole way to our bed.

From there, Spencer felt confident in our privacy to answer, “That’s fine. I usually tear open my gifts pretty quickly.”

It was a very good metaphor for the way his hands worked over my clothes. I didn’t even try to pinpoint the moment where being naked no longer made me feel nervous. I let the scar tissue show because neither of us were going to look at it, anyway. We were too caught up in the slight shifts and nuances of our faces as we rushed towards our one mutual goal.

“I missed you,” I mumbled, the words feeling as natural as breathing itself.

“I missed you, too,” he returned, and I felt the raw emotion, the sincerity and desire in every syllable. But once it was over and he had finally managed to remove everything but my underwear, all that was left was an all-encompassing, mind-altering level of lust.

“God, watching you in class was so fucking frustrating,” he strained, his upper lip curling with disdain as he watched my body squirm against the sheets.

“Why’s that?”

“I wanted you so badly.”

There was no denying that it was the honest truth, and I didn’t even want to try. I wanted to gloat and bask in the confirmation that his presence was dangerous for my academic career. Not to mention my sanity.

“Like I said. You’re very distracting.”

Then, to prove my point, that brilliant bastard shoved his hand under the band of my underwear. He only held me softly for one second before he slid his fingers through the slickness and thrust them roughly into me. It hadn’t been that long, but the emptiness I felt before was even more apparent now that I had any part of him inside of me again.

“Am I?” he chimed with a smile.

I wanted to be bratty, to fight the tension that was building and appear unfazed by his ministrations, but there was simply no pretending. Not when my body was already on the verge of spasming around his fingers that seemed to stroke the perfect place within me with every movement.

“Jesus Christ,” I sighed. I should’ve known better than to give him ammunition.

“You’ve resorted to blasphemy already?”

Spencer partnered the tease with a ruthless thrust, burying his fingers to the knuckle inside of me and holding them there. He waited until I ran out of breath and struggled to take another while also trying not to scream in a mixture of frustration and devastating need for more.

“I thought I told you we had to hurry?”

“We’ve got time,” he shot back without pause, “You’re just being a needy little brat.”

“Yes, I am,” I whined just as quickly, “I’m a fucking brat and I need you.”

He almost seemed disappointed in my compliance. His fingers began moving again, eliciting noises that were louder, higher, and sweeter after the anticipation. He tried to draw the attitude out of me by stopping again, waiting for a quip that didn’t come.

“Awww, no fight?” he cooed.

“I can’t. It’s your birthday,” I grumbled before biting my tongue. The pressure was becoming so unbearable I thought I might honestly draw blood. But after another few seconds of torture that felt like a lifetime, Spencer withdrew his hand completely.

He was testing the limits, watching how far I would let him go before begging. But even when he took the same soaked fingers and began rubbing me from the outside of my underwear, I only opened my mouth to steal quick, soft breaths and give pitiful whines.

“Oh, I like this…” he laughed, apparently having gotten past his concern about my sudden compliance, “I could get used to you behaving.”

The song-like cadence got to me, threatening to spark and ignite everything I was holding back. I almost bit back. I almost let the desire scorch my throat with a few choice words for the very rude genius, but I didn’t. The only thing that stopped me was the feel of cotton sliding down my thighs as he removed the final barrier between us.

“You’d miss my misbehaving,” I said with a chuckle. The sound mixed with another, a deep moan that filled my chest when I felt him press himself against my entrance. My back arched, causing him to slip inside of me just enough for us to both lose our words.

“I don’t know…”

If I’d wanted to say anything, my mouth wouldn’t have let me. It was too busy singing his praise while simultaneously begging him to silence it. My lips floundered for a kiss that he hung just far enough away from me to deny. Satisfaction was painted over every feature as he started to enter me, brushing his lips against my mouth every few seconds just to pull away before I was granted the intimacy I sought.

“You do look rather cute when you’re begging.”

It was strange, the way my body started to predict his movements. I met him in the middle of every motion, and I swore even our breath became synchronized in its rapid firing. It wasn’t until his hand rested over my throat we broke the rhythm. I wasn’t going to complain, letting the energy flow down my spine that arched towards him on instinct. His hips never stopped, and I could tell by the way his breath hitched and his fingers grew tighter around my neck that the new angle was as wonderful for him as it was for me.

“You look so sweet when you let go of every ounce of self-preservation and dignity you have and put your life in my hands,” he whispered with an affection that almost seemed odd considering the context. But then there was something else in his moans, a genuine gentleness that made my already arrhythmic heart beat faster.

“You know I’ll take care of you, don’t you?” he asked as his movements stayed calm and careful. Loving and safe.

I didn’t even notice my eyes had closed, but it ultimately didn’t matter. Because when I opened them, I saw the same man that existed in every image behind my eyelids. The only indication he got that I was still capable of communication was the gentle curve of my lips that dropped open in a pleased sigh as his hips continued a slow, tender pace.

It still felt like too much, but not in a bad way. It was too much in the sense that I was reminded once again just how ruined he’d made me. And the smug little shit knew it, too.

“You don’t have a single thought in that pretty little head, do you?” he cooed, dragging his hand up the column of my throat to force his fingers against my tongue. True to my word, I didn’t try to fight back. I soaked the digits that still tasted like me with my jaw left open. His pupils dilated as he watched the spit pool in my mouth that awaited his instruction.

“You just want to be used. Like the perfect little doll you are.”

Unlike my own, his smile was more of a smirk. A crooked, ever so slightly wicked quirk that made my muscles tense around him in their own version of an affirmative answer. He took it, happily. His body crashed into mine, but it merely felt like an extension of myself returning home like the waves meeting the shore. I could feel him claiming his rightful place at the deepest parts of me, making his home with every powerful motion of his hips.

I could hardly breathe, let alone think. I didn’t want to. It felt unnecessary.

“My sweet little girl,” he muttered with an unbelievably chaste kiss in the center of my forehead, “You’d do anything to make your daddy happy.”

I felt detached from myself in a way that didn’t feel me with fear or pain. I could feel myself through his hands, strong and working the pliable flesh of my thighs as he held them up so that he could drive into me harder.

His eyes, also only half open, burned with intensity. I could feel the determination, the undying desire to grant me a serenity that no one else could. His need for me to feel safe and loved with the seemingly contradictory brutality.

But it wasn’t contradictory. The power behind every movement, the insistence on being as close to me as he possibly could, might have caused some physical pain, but it was nothing compared to the pleasure of sharing this space with him. Of sharing my body with him just to see what he would do with it. I already knew, but I wanted to feel it again and again. Because with each stroke of his hand and thrust of his hips, I felt it.

Spencer had free rein to do whatever he wanted, and he chose to love me.

“I’m so close. You know what I want,” he pleaded despite holding all of the power. He handed it to me with a low groan, trying to kiss my lips while he commanded, “Do it. Come for me.”

My body obeyed his command, falling to pieces around him with shockwaves breaking over every inch of me. My vision went white, crafting a halo of light around him as he also found himself reaching a peak that seemed different than the times we’d shared before.

I tried to figure out what had changed, what about this time made it unique. But as the euphoria faded, all I saw staring back at me was the same face as always, radiating a joy and understanding that warmed damp, chilly skin. Spencer’s release provided a similar warmth within me, and my body clung to him even tighter despite the exhaustion.

My breathing took its time to even out, but I was in no rush to leave him. I would have stayed like that forever, with Spencer covering me like the silliest, boniest blanket. If it wasn’t for the dead weight he eventually dropped on me, we probably would’ve spent the whole day lost in the covers. But he could thank the scars for me being a little less forgiving.

Of course, thankful is not the word to describe him at all. Whiny was more like it. Even as I turned our bodies together so that I would still be sitting on his lap, he did nothing but groan and bitch about it. That is, until I silenced him with a kiss that barely brushed over his lips.

That was enough to turn his frown back to the dopey smile I loved so much.

“Happy birthday, old man,” I purred, enjoying the way his hands grabbed me tighter at the loving nickname. But age wasn’t what was on his mind. I could see it in the way his eyes tore past my defenses and he held me closer like we could actually become one if he tried hard enough.

“I’m so in love with you, it’s infuriating,” he whispered.

“I’ve heard that one before.”

Spencer wasn’t in a joking mood, though. All of his humor seemed to be expended earlier in the day, and now he was just left with all the mushy, romantic innards that I normally kept at bay.

It wasn’t that bad, though, I thought as his hands framed my face so our foreheads would touch. There were worse things to be trapped with.

“It’s true,” he mumbled with his voice still high and slurred together, “I look at you and there is just… nothing that can be said that would ever explain the way it feels.”

“Gross,” I joked.

“Get used to it,” he returned. And if that wasn’t enough to make me laugh, he stuck his tongue out in the most childish display I’d seen from him since he’d fucking licked my hand on our picnic. It was also just charming enough that I was willing to let the sappy stuff slide.

“I’ll be nice to you this time,” I grumbled. “But also, speaking of time, you’d better hurry up if you don’t want to do the walk of shame with an audience.”

Spencer’s arms fell limp with a dramatic cry before he used them to cover his face once more.

“Ugh. Go,” he ordered. Despite his words, he still made me fight against greedy hands to wrestle my way out of bed. It would have been smarter to let me go quickly. I really don’t know what he was thinking, but he would learn his mistake soon enough. Because as I was finishing up in the bathroom, I heard a very amused voice chiming down the hall on the other side of the door.

“Good afternoon, Spencer.”

I debated not opening the door and freeing Spencer from the unbelievably uncomfortable position he’d just found himself in, but ultimately decided it was too cruel. Still, the stalling had taken up enough time that the poor guy felt compelled to reply.

And, of course, the only thing he could think to say was a pathetic, high pitched, “Hi.”

Somehow managing to contain the absolutely riotous laughter I felt in my gut, I opened the door with the straightest face I could muster.

It wasn’t enough. Spencer saw the pleasure I took in his humiliation and practically shoved me out of the bathroom to take my place behind the doors. While I found the action endearing in the most awkward way, my roommate was mostly just confused about how the fuck I’d managed to find someone as stupid as me.

“I didn’t know he was coming,” she said once she managed to smile at the silly situation.

Clearing my throat, I tried to sound sincere in my bullshit apology. “Me either, sorry.”

In a way, I think the fact I couldn’t pull myself together worked in my favor. Normally, she would have scolded me (albeit playfully) for not alerting her of what she might be walking in on, but this time, she just tried to withhold the smile that still stretched over her cheeks despite her best efforts.

“You’re fine,” she sighed, giving in to the desire to go against her usual grumpy demeanor before retreating to her own room. “Have fun, you hooligans.”

Once her door clicked shut, I heard shuffling on the other side of the door next to me. Spencer’s shadow was visible from the light peeking out underneath, and I waited a few more restless seconds before I announced, “You can come out now, Spencer.”

Cautiously, the door creaked open just enough for his head to poke out and confirm that I wasn’t trying to trick him.

“I’ve never been a hooligan before,” he said with a bounce in his step and his eyebrows halfway up his face. To think that he was the same man who threatened to arrest me for existing at a nightclub was, in a word, hilarious.

“Well, good news for you,” I purred, and the sound must have reminded him of my more devilish nature, because his jubilance quickly shifted back to an obvious anxiety. I wrapped my arms around him even when it meant that his muscles tensed, dragging him down so I could whisper in his ear, “I was just about to ask if you wanted to help me play hooky.”

“And do what?”

It felt strange to say that I hadn’t really thought about it. That the second I’d seen him I knew that the day would be good and free and fun. That everything felt so perfectly fine that I didn’t even want to challenge it with a schedule.

Spencer looked at me, his answer apparent in the way he started to relax the longer we stayed wrapped up in a shitty apartment hallway. It didn’t matter what I said. Spencer would have followed me, just like I would have done for him.

And without the angst or uncertainty of what could go wrong, there was only one thing left for us to do. With a shrug and pout, I proposed the riskiest plan we’d had yet.

“Whatever we want.”

—————————————————

| Finale |

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bigskydreaming · 3 years ago

Note

If you were editor of Nightwing's book ever since at least the start of Rebirth to today and you were given free reign, what would your story mandates?

Oh no, this is dangerous. LOL. Hmm, I have no idea what to shoot for here, so I'll try to keep it to ten. That's reasonable right? Ten is good. Yeah. Is fine.

Okay, so, in no particular order:

1) Let Dick be competent 101. None of this him having to play hype man for every other character to pop up in HIS title bullshit. Nope. That's not what they're there for. He's the lead man, LET HIM BE THE LEADING MAN. Like sure, everyone has their areas of expertise, he doesn't need or have to be the best at everything, blah blah blah.....but its about the nuance. All of that is kinda lip service because the thing is, you don't go into MOST comic books and NEED to be reminded of that because the lead characters of those books are all constantly getting saved or shown up or chastised by every guest star in their books, you know? This is a very weird, very niche phenomenon very specific to Dick's character, and I'm super over it. I'm here to read about the guy who has literally been doing this longer than most superheroes twice his age. The guy who's been doing this since before he hit double digits. The born acrobat. The destined ultimate warrior or whatever of Gotham's Ornithological Society Of Murder and Pretentiousness. Gimme that guy. And that guy doesn't need to be 'humbled' every other page, because the thing is, he's not some egomaniac to begin with so the everpresent need to humble him doesn't actually come off as humbling! It just comes off as pandering and not even to actual fans of the actual character, so its like.....wyd DC.

2) Let other people take responsibility for their own crap with Dick rather than always just expecting a mea culpa from him. I'm so unbelievably tired of the words I'm sorry from Dick. I love personal accountability, so I never thought I'd have to say this about a character, but enoooooough. They have made it completely in character for this dude to apologize to everyone ELSE for being brainwashed, getting amnesia, being KILLED, like.....the amount of things he's groveled for forgiveness for when he didn't actually do a damn thing wrong or worse yet, was the ACTUAL victim of is like....pretty damn staggering. And meanwhile, there's nary a peep of apology from the people who regularly insult or belittle him, get physically violent with him, take advantage of him or take him for granted, etc, etc, etc. Its entirely too one-sided and imbalanced, and the pendulum needs to swing the other direction, like YESTERDAY, and in a fairly big way, IMO.

3) None of this Baby's First Social Justice Awakening 101 crap. I'm sorry, but no. Especially not when you go out of your way to acknowledge that Dick is Romani, only to then turn around and act like he's only JUST had his eyes opened to an awareness of like, classism and poverty and the real struggles people face day to day? Sorry not sorry, but especially for other white writers out there, do not use people of color as self-inserts for dipping a toe into Learning To See Past Privilege. And especially when talking about a character who has a history of being actively abused and hurt by the system and institutions of power, or hell, even leaving out that particular origin story, who has still been out on the streets helping people since he was a literal child. You can not tell me that this is his first face to face experience with social issues, or the first time he's had the inclination to try and address those head on. (And its also particularly egregious that the people second-guessing Dick in his own title and giving him reality checks or acting like they have more of an awareness of all this than he does like, happen to all be white? OPTICS. LEARN ABOUT THEM. COMMON SENSE. GET SOME.)

Know what would actually be a better way to approach this? Flashbacks. Show us Dick running into situations that make him think back to a case when he was still Robin, when he and Batman had started fighting over their approaches to things, actually SHOW us those conflicts and how their viewpoints had started diverging, and how much of that was due to Dick not having the same experiences as Bruce, or the same standing in society, no matter what house he lived in. THEN you can jump BACK to the present, with the reminder/awareness that this is something that isn't NEWS to Dick, but that he in the past felt he was forced to make his peace with as something he wasn't in a position to do that much about....only NOW, he's in a very DIFFERENT position, and suddenly it just hits him how he's still acting like he did when he was limited in resources or in having to be part of a chain in command or having to factor other responsibilities into things....now he ACTUALLY has the power and the resources to make meaningful change in the ways he ALWAYS wanted to, but maybe just needed time to figure out HOW.

Like you know what would have made Shawn Tsang's story arc so much better? If Dick didn't just remember her as the Pigeon's one time teenage sidekick he'd briefly fought as a kid, but like.....if he remembered her as someone he and Bruce had FOUGHT about. Because he didn't agree with sending someone to juvie for defacing public property as a form of political protest, when it was someone's LIFE who was going to be irrevocably damaged by that while the damage to the city could be fixed with a check, and what made Dick any more deserving of Bruce's leniency and faith in his potential or underlying goodness than Shawn?

But he was still a kid himself back then, and when Bruce responded with his usual conviction, talking about the importance about rule of law and etc etc, Dick just didn't have the words to get through to him then, to get him to understand that this wasn't just Dick not getting it because he was too young, it was BRUCE not getting it, that Dick was literally just saying well he wasn't too young to have been in juvie himself, and of the two of them, he's the one who has experience there so why was Bruce's opinion on whether this was the punishment that fit the crime the one that got to hold more weight here? When Dick's the one who knows what that punishment actually LOOKS like beyond the abstract, for whom it was a reality that still haunts him in ways that even defacing a few statues of some rich old fucks doesn't deserve?

Or hell, go back FURTHER than when he was Robin. Idk where any of those posts are, but I've always wanted to see something where Dick maybe runs into someone he remembers from his time in juvie, maybe a guard who is like, the source of the reasons Dick mistrusts figures of authority and is so hung up on independence and not being under anyone's thumb, or maybe someone who was in there with him, another kid who looked out for him when he didn't have to, etc. Gimme Dick tackling head-on his firsthand awareness that there's no rehabilitation to be found in a jail for kids, when most of those kids don't even need rehabilitation in the first place and only did what they did in order to survive or escape from worse situations or like, were there purely because of racist cops, etc. Let him go after THAT system, driven by personal experiences and memories that maybe only hit him in full after recovering his memories from the Ric Grayson arc, like they're things that he put in a box in his mind a long, long time ago because he didn't have the spoons or reserves to deal with them when he was a kid still so traumatized in so many ways, like, something had to give and so he put all those memories away for another day and just....never got back to them because life kept hitting him with new and fresh trauma every week.

But now something has him thinking back to those early days in Gotham, and reminding him that not everyone had a Bruce Wayne willing and able to give them an out from that place or acrobatic skills to escape it on their own, and like. You want to do something about the cycles of violence in Gotham and Bludhaven? Why not start with the places that literally MANUFACTURE cruelty on an institutional level, that teach kids that no matter what they did to get put there, even if that was nothing at all, they're all going to be treated the same way and given no reason NOT to do whatever it took to be top dog in a dog eat dog world by the time they got out.

There's SO many better approaches to social awareness in the Batbooks than what we're seeing, and like. Sheesh. The bar is way too low.

4) On a related note, if I'm editor of the Nightwing book, the FIRST thing I'm doing is making it a priority to find a writer of color for that book, ideally someone of Rom descent. Its waaaaay past time to let a Romani writer take the reins on Dick, Wanda, Pietro or Doom, aka some of the only prominent Romani characters out there? You can't tell me that there aren't talented writers who identify as Roma who would be more than willing to add their perspective to Dick's archive of narratives, and if an editor's gotta go looking for them? Go fucking look. DC and its fans have milked a lot of mileage out of the idea of Dick being Romani with very little in the way of nuanced storytelling to show for it in the past twenty years, and if DC wants to trot out little reminders that Dick is Romani every couple years, like in the form of a freaking line that has no follow up or expansion to any degree and is offset by an internal monologue that otherwise reads as incredibly privileged, the least they can do is TRY to expand on that with the narrative perspective of someone they claim to be representing via that character.

And no, this isn't gatekeeping, this is prioritizing. Its not about preventing other writers from writing this character, like just for the hell of it, its about being proactive about finding a writer who can write specific aspects of this character that have long gone unaddressed or poorly represented. And like. Okay. Its not easy breaking into the comics industry for anyone, but its particularly not easy for marginalized writers. Most every major comic book company just recites 'make your own stuff first and then show us that' but when you're a writer specifically, finding a compatible artist to partner with on creator-owned indie stuff first, when those artists are in the same position as you are and apologetically and understandably tend to have to take paying work over yours if you can't pay except on the back end, like....there are a lot of hurdles to getting your start in comic books, and while there are more and more marginalized writers in comics these days, DC and Marvel kinda fucked up, because you know what?

After being told 'make your own first, then we'll talk,' writers DID do just that....but then found out that well, due to the ease of online distribution and access these days, for any writers who CAN find an artist to partner with, its a hell of a lot easier to get their content out there these days WITHOUT a major publisher behind them.....and for a lot of marginalized writers in particular, its worth it to keep full creative control in exchange for smaller circulation. Especially when they don't have to deal with editors 'softening' their work to make it more palatable for audiences that quite frankly aren't necessarily their primary target. So yeah, marginalized voices are becoming more and more present in comics, but Marvel and DC for the most part are keeping the same voices centered they always have, and what these voices have to say is becoming less and less relevant and outdated. Because much like this arc from Taylor, even when they DO dip their toes into story matter that's of interest to wider audiences, they're doing so to a degree that still puts them years behind the conversations everyone else is having.

5) The same holds true of disability representation. I stopped reading Taylor's run for a lot of reasons but his way of responding to people unhappy with his depiction of Babs was a key one. If I'm editor on a book, and someone tweets at one of my writers that their depiction of a disabled character was hurtful because it feels like they're doubling back on everything Babs has ever said about not being defined by or ashamed of her disability and now its being treated like a dirty little secret, and that writer's response is essentially to just laugh at them and say there's nothing wrong or ableist about their writing of a disabled person, TO a concerned disabled person? That writer's ass is getting fired. Full stop.

Either you give a shit about this stuff or you don't. Don't pay your readers lip service about how important social issues are to you and how much you care about using superhero narratives to inspire people on these matters if you're gonna turn around and show your ass the second you don't feel comfortable and prioritized by the conversation, like it wouldn't exist without your oh so valuable contributions. ESPECIALLY if you don't identify as sharing the same identity of the marginalized character you're writing. You are a guest in someone else's lived experiences at that point, and you think you've got the right to belittle and talk down to the people who LIVE THERE? Fuck off, my dude.

6) Re-center Dick as someone who the superhero community RESPECTS. I love seeing Dick depicted as someone who has an awareness of his own limitations and an appreciation for what others bring to the table, and so I'm not opposed to him calling on others when he needs to.....but I also would like to see more of the opposite. But not in the way we usually see it these days, where he's asked to come help with a crisis and then usually second-guessed the whole way, and then sent back home without so much as a thank you when its done. Yawn. Sorry. I've read that story by now.

You know what story arc I freaking LOVED as a kid, back in the 90s? In Green Lantern, when Kyle Rayner first became the sole GL, one of his very early arcs, before he ever joined the JLA or anything....was him realizing how little he knew about being a superhero. He was like, my predecessors all had a full fledged CORPS to teach them everything they needed to know, but I had a few lines of exposition from a funny little blue guy in a red pillowcase and then I was off to the races. That's not good enough. There's so much I don't know about being a hero, I don't even KNOW what I still need to know.

So he went on kinda a superhero training roadtrip. He went to Metropolis to ask Superman for advice, he went to Batman to learn from Batman and Robin (Tim at the time). He went to Wonder Woman, Sentinel (Alan Scott, the first Green Lantern), etc, etc. And in the end, Kyle very much became his own kind of hero who wasn't just a pastiche of all those other heroes and the advice they gave him, but like....this put him on the road to that.

And I'd love to see something like that happen in Dick's solo title. We've seen him train in a team setting, we've seen him train the other Robins.....I'd love to see like, young superheroes from OTHER books, not ones created by the title, but like names people actually recognize from other franchises, like, guest star in Nightwing's book to learn from HIM, specifically. I wanna see something where Wally looks at the latest speedster and is like, you know what, if you really wanna be the best hero you can possibly be, then Nightwing's who you gotta go to, because there's no one I trust to make a better hero out of someone than him. I want the newest kid on the JLA block to worry that people aren't taking him seriously because of his age or experience, and he's always hearing them talk about Nightwing and how young he was when he started and so if anyone knows something about how to gain the respect of your older superhero peers, that's the guy to talk to.

Gimme Dick's couch being crashed on at various times by a half dozen new or upcoming young superheroes who all heard or figured out that if they really want to up their superhero game, Nightwing's the guy to see.

7) Bring back Bea. There's no long paragraph expansion on this, its really simply. Bring back Bea. She was one of the freshest breaths of air in Dick's supporting cast in ages, most of the current run is based off her character direction in the first place, she's literally the best suited TO help Dick in this venture, and the reasons they gave for writing her out of Dick's life were all bullshit and they just wanted to focus on his previous relationships, which would be fine if they didn't fall into the same two endless cycles of bring back up, go nowhere with, awkwardly avoid each other for years, rinse and repeat. Like. Bring back Bea, please and thank you, the end.

8) Focus on new villains. Heartless is meh, but the idea of new villains is still better IMO than rehashing Blockbuster, Zucco, etc. Like, nostaglia ain't it. If I want to read Blockbuster fucking up Dick's life, I can do that. They're called back issues. The thing is, love it or hate it, the Blockbuster arc WAS iconic. It left its mark. And anything that doesn't leave just as much of a mark, if they're going to bring him up again, is just gonna be a waste of time, you know? It'll just dilute his overall presence when like, what he was - worked fine as is. We don't need Round Two.

The trick to good villains, IMO, is they have to speak to a fight that needs fighting.

What I mean by that is....the best villains are those who resonate on a more instinctive level because they embody something that already exists in a reader's mind as a conflict that needs fighting. Like, if superheroes exist, if the embodiment of larger than life presences and forces devoted to protecting the world from various things are real....then their villains need to embody the kinds of fights or conflicts that NEED larger than life figures to combat them, at least on a one to one level.

Look at Superman and Lex Luthor. Superman at his core embodies the strength of community. He's the ultimate hero of the people, his essence is that he was the last survivor of a doomed race who was raised by two honest, hard working people to see the beauty in just being ONE of them, in using what he had on behalf of all of them and not just himself. In contrast, Lex Luthor is basically the embodiment of capitalist greed, of excess, of the entitlement of being able to have anything with a snap of your fingers and thus assuming that gives you divine mandate to make the kinds of choices that he sees as only his right to make.

He hates Superman, ultimately, because Superman is the WRONG savior of the people. He wants their only savior to be HIM, half the time he honestly believes he's saving the world FROM Superman, but just as often he's perfectly content to be the villain and not shy about it....because Lex Luthor's ultimate motivation is he wants everyone to know when he's dead and gone that LEX LUTHOR WAS HERE. He genuinely doesn't care WHAT his impact or legacy is at the end of the day, just that it exists and it overshadows most everything else...because all that really matters to him is the irrefutable proof that HE mattered. And thus at their cores, Superman and Lex are perfectly opposed. Ideally situated to eternally be in conflict, their own forever war, because their core natures are incompatible. They CAN'T compromise, without compromising themselves and essentially ending up as someone totally other than who and what they are already.

And you can go down the list. The Joker is the chaos to Batman's order, while Mr. Freeze is the stagnancy of that order taken too far, he's what you get when you freeze everything in your grief and refuse to let anything go on, anything new grow, because that would mean having to admit once and for all that what you're mourning is really gone. Two-Face is the ultimate embodiment of Man vs Self, a once good man at war with his own worse nature, and reminding everyone who looks at him how easily they could fall to the same fate.

And so on and so on. What Dick needs, is more of the same. Like, as much as I'm not a huge fan of Talon stories, I maintain that the Court of Owls were a great foil for him - just they tend to be poorly used in canon as well. But I also think how poorly they come off in canon has a lot to do with canon not really touching on WHY they're such a perfect foil for Dick....and that's Dick's history with being outside the system, mistreated and even exploited by the system. Because the Court, their core concept, is they ARE the system. They are entrenched, enfranchised, institutional power, passed down through generations, dynastic control that is a perfect counterpart to the dynastic power of the Wayne family, embodied in its youngest generation in the form of Bruce's FOUND family, the children he adopted regardless of whether or not his peers found them deserving of that honor. The Court, and their entire....thing...about the Gray Son, is the entitled fury of those denied something they deem theirs simply because they WANT it, and who will burn the whole world down rather than admit defeat or let someone else have it instead.

And that resonates. It could resonate a lot MORE if DC would actually lean into those concepts and allow Dick to explore how the Court are nothing he's not used to, they're literally made up of the same people who have looked down on him ever since he came to Gotham, but now they're actually a face and a name put to all those attitudes, something he can literally FIGHT BACK AGAINST. The Court are literally human-sized embodiments of everything and everyone who's tried to confine Dick since his parents' deaths, tried to define him without his permission, tried to make him other or lesser than who and what he is.....and who thus now exist in a form that Dick can literally BATTLE. So that he doesn't HAVE to just take this stuff lying down.

Thanks to the Court, he doesn't HAVE to just passively accept it, that this is just how life is, that some people are going to view him this way and think this about him and there's nothing he can do about it. He CAN do something about it, in superhero stories. He can kick its ASS, in the form of the Court of Owls and everything its members think about him and intend for him. He can refuse to bow down to them, to accept their mark on him. He can say lol, no, and then blow their shit sky high, ideally with a little help from his family. He can BEAT them, in this incarnated form, and in doing so, even though he can't beat everything they stand for and represent, that victory still matters, still means something symbolic to readers it resonates with.

And that's what we need more of. Villains created specifically to embody concepts that are diametrically opposed to Dick and what he represents. The system, yes, but also villains who embody the kind of tyranny and control he fights back against in his constant battles for autonomy and self control. Villains who embody the 'new hopes' of a second generation just like Dick himself is the focal point of the hopes embodied by the second generation of heroes. I'm actually not the hugest fan of multiversal constant Dick Grayson, but I might like it more if he had an opposite number there, someone he was specifically contrasted with. Idk.

But you get it.

9) Dick having a social life. Gimme the Titans and his siblings showing up JUST to show up. We have room enough for at least a couple pages every other issue where we just get to see these characters having some breathing room, taking a beat to stop and be something other than just a superhero, to be human as well. There's more to life than 24/7 fighting, even for them, and that's largely been lost in modern superhero comics, which kinda sucks, because that was what made most of the more iconic and lasting dynamics between various characters like, STAND the test of time. The larger than life battles between good and evil might be what many of us come to superhero comics FOR, but the relatable back-and-forths and ups and downs of their private lives spent with friends and family tends to be what keeps most of us coming BACK. And lately its all just mission, mission, mission, and I'm like blah, blah, blah and its like, meh, meh, meh. Y'know? Give the guy some down time, and let his friends come spend it with him.

10) Boone. This is purely self-indulgent, but if you know anything about me, you know my obsession with Robin: Year One, Dick's brief time at Vengeance Academy, and the hate/hate relationship he has with his brief frenemy from that period, Boone aka Shrike. This character has SOOOOO much potential to be Dick's true archnemesis and rival, and like. *Sobs* I can't get into it all again. Its too much. I can't do it.

Okay, I absolutely can. And will, probably. But like. Later.

BONUS ROUND:

Other thing I would absolutely insist upon if I were Nightwing editor....

GET THAT FUCKING MEME SHIRT ABOUT BRUCE SLAPPING DICK THE FUCK OUTTA HERE.

Like. Seriously. WHAT THE HELL. Why would you double down on THAT? Why is Babs STILL wearing it? (Last I checked, like I think I saw it in a scan from last issue? I'm pretty sure its still there? If not, forget this entire rant, and I am very embarrassed. Okay not that embarrassed. I don't really care if I'm wrong here but like, in case I'm not)...

WHY. Who thought that was funny? No, seriously, on behalf of any other abuse survivors who like me are SERIOUSLY not amused, who the FUCK thinks its FUNNY to have one of Dick's best friends sporting a shirt that no matter what it represents IN universe, to readers OUT of universe, is always going to call to mind the fact that this meme only freaking EXISTS because of all the times DC has obliviously and without acknowledgment written Bruce abusing his children, including the BFF that Babs is literally wearing that right in front of.

Like omg do you hate her, DC? What other possible reason could you have for thinking that would be a cute, funny thing for her to wear around the guy getting SLAPPED, by his DAD, in your shirt's iconography.

Okay I'm done.

LOL.

Sorry, that last one was brewing for awhile. Deep breaths. Woo.

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