#manifesting misogyny to go away

[honey-bri-books]

A reminder that Casey being upset with Trump winning the election in 2016 is what inspired the book, in the first place. Red, White & Royal Blue is what we needed to get through his first term. Please be safe during his second term and remember that you matter. Women do not belong to men. Trans people exist. Queer people exist. Gay people exist. And ALL are allowed to exist. Stay strong. Be brave. We can get through it again.

[boysborntodie]

When I say the greasers would be prejudiced, I mean they grew up and live in an environment and time period where stereotypes, ideas, propaganda, etc, were more common than today (also they still are common, to the point I don’t think there’s anyone without them to some degree) and exploring those ideas as how they culminate and manifest and how the greasers can unlearn them is much better than erasing these very real concepts and themes within the Outsiders itself as well as the era, thus doing a disservice to both.

[taliabhattwrites]

I don't think there is a significant or notable number of people who believe transmascs are not oppressed.

I feel slightly insane just having to type this out, but this is rhetoric you inevitably come across if you discuss transfeminism on Tumblr.

The mainstream, cissexist understanding of transmasculine people is the Irreversible Damage narrative (one that's old enough to show up in Transsexual Empire as well) of transmascs as "misguided little girls", "tricked" into "mutilating themselves". It is a deliberately emasculating and transphobic narrative that very explicitly centers on oppression, even if the fevered imaginings misattribute the cause. As anyone who's dealt with the gatekeeping medical establishment knows, they are far from giving away HRT or even consults with both hands, and most transfems I know have a hard enough time convincing people to take DIY T advice, leave alone "tricking" anyone into top surgery.

Arguably, the misogyny that transmasculine folks experience is the defining narrative surrounding their existence, as transmasculinity is frequently and erroneously attributed to "tomboyish women" who resent their position in the patriarchy so much they seek to transition out of it. This rhetoric is an invisiblization of transmasculinity, constructed deliberately to preserve gendered verticality, for if it were possible to "gain status" under the sexed regime, its entire basis, its ideological naturalization, would fall apart.

Honestly, the actual discussions I see are centered around whether "transmisogyny" is a term that should apply to transmascs and transfems alike. While I understand the impetus for that discussion, I feel like the assertion that transmisogyny is a specific oppression that transfems experience for our perceived abandonment of the "male sex" is often conflated with the incorrect idea that we believe transmasculine people are not oppressed at all. This is not true, and we understand, rather acutely, that our society is entirely organized around reproductive exploitation. That is, in fact, the source of transfeminine disposability!

I know I'm someone who "just got here" and there is a history here that I'm not a part of, but so much of that history is speckled with hearsay and fabrication that I can't even attempt to make sense of it. All I know is that I, in 2024, have been called a revived medieval slur for effeminate men by people who attribute certain beliefs to me based on my being a trans woman who is also a feminist, and I simply do not hold those views, nor do I know anyone who sincerely does.

If you're going to attempt to discredit a transfeminist, or transfeminism in general, then please at least do us the courtesy of responding to things we actually say and have actually argued instead of ascribing to us phantom ideologies in a frankly conspiratorial fashion. I also implore people to pay attention to how transphobic rhetoric operates out in the wider world, how actual reactionaries talk about and think of trans people, instead of fixating so hard on internecine social media clique drama that one enters an alternate reality--a phantasm, as Judith Butler would put it.

Speaking of which--do y'all have any idea how overrepresented transmascs are in trans studies and queer theory? Can we like, stop and reckon with reality-as-it-is, instead of hallucinating a transfeminine hegemony where it doesn't exist? I'm aware a lot of their output isn't particularly explicative on the material realities of transmasculine oppression despite their prominence in the academy, but that is ... not the fault of trans women, who face extremely harsh epistemic injustice even in trans studies.

The actual issue is how invisiblized transmasculine oppression is and how the epistemicide that transmasculine people face manifests as a refusal to differentiate between the misogyny all women face, reproductive exploitation in particular, and the contours of violence, erasure, and oppression directed at specifically transmasculine people.

You will notice that is a society-wide problem, motivated by a desire to erase the possibilities of transmasculinity, to the point of not even being willing to name it. You will notice that I am quite familiar with how this works, and how it's completely compatible with a materialist transfeminist framework that analyzes how our oppression is--while distinct--interlinked and stems from the same root.

I sincerely hope that whoever needs to see this post sees it, and that something productive--more productive dialogue, at least--can arise from it.

[iamred-iamyellow]

⋆ ˚｡⋆౨ৎ˚ Nueva Vida - [Part 2]

♥ prev | masterlist

♥ pairing: platonic f1 grid x latina!fem!engineer!reader x lando norris

♥ smau + written (reader is lewis' ferrari race engineer)

♥ none of the pictures are mine - face claim: wolifecindy on insta & girls on pinterest

♥ warnings: misogyny, swearing, mentions of alcohol, suggestive language !!!

♥ a/n: I'm so sorry if my Spanish is incorrect, I'm a no sabo kid.

♥ taglist; @the-holy-trinity-l, @formulaal, @jxnellat, @aldene-styles, @thecubanator2

ʏ/ɴ ʟ/ɴ ᴛᴀʟᴋꜱ ᴡᴏᴍᴇɴ ɪɴ ᴍᴏᴛᴏʀꜱᴘᴏʀᴛꜱ, ᴡᴏʀᴋɪɴɢ ᴡɪᴛʜ ꜱᴜꜱɪᴇ ᴡᴏʟꜰꜰ, ᴀɴᴅ ʜᴇʀ ꜰᴜᴛᴜʀᴇ.

✧˖ °. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁‧₊˚ . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁˖°✧

-Vogue Article Snippet-

Though she has been not in the spotlight for long, Y/n L/n has certainly made an impact on Formula 1. Alongside other amazing female influences such as Hannah Schmitz and Bernie Collins, Y/n continues to be a role model for women in the sport.

-Vogue Interview-

"So, Y/n what were your experiences like coming up to F1? I can only imagine the difficulties that come with being a woman in motorsports."

"It definitely was a challenge. Hate really got to my heart when I was younger and fresh out of high school. With the amount of misogyny I've faced and the lack of representation, I've almost given up too many times." you said, thinking back to your early days in F3. "I had to push myself and remember why I was here. First and foremost my passion for the sport. I've been an F1 fan since I was a kid and I wasn't going to toss away my dream due to bigoted men around me. They wanted to see me fail and I wasn't going to let them succeed."

"Beautifully said. I know the fans have a nickname for you... "Susie Wolff's daughter" how do you feel about this?"

"It's definitely something," you laughed softly. "No, I love it. Susie was and continues to be a role model of mine. I'm definitely glad we have a program like F1 Academy being directed by her. I hope I can inspire girls the same way she does."

"I have one more question for you: What are your plans for the future? Was F1 the ultimate goal or is there still something you're chasing?"

"F1 was definitely the dream. It's absolutely unreal that I'm working with Ferrari and the one and only Lewis Hamilton. As far as my future, I don't have any current plans. I want to enjoy my time here before I start considering any sort of possible change."

The interviewer nodded and jotted down a few notes

"Thank you for your time Y/n." she smiled.

✧˖ °. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁‧₊˚ . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁˖°✧

✧˖ °. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁‧₊˚ . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁˖°✧

✧˖ °. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁‧₊˚ . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁˖°✧

liked by landonorris, roscoehamilton, and 562,856 more

yourusername prêts pour la belgique / bereit für Belgien <3

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yourbestfriend pick me. choose me. love me.

*liked by yourusername*

user4 so SO real for that

user7 that waffle looks so good wtf

user8 her speaking french and german 🥺

user14 polygot queen

user10 WHERES MYSTERY MAN

user3 ROSCOE!!!

user9 manifesting a Ferrari 1-2

user82 didn't think I could hate her more

user10 bruv what did she do 😭

user1 she had the audacity to exist as a women in sports

user60 she's still here?

user7 wdym by that?

user60 figured they would've fired her by now

user19 you're so pretty

user14 my home country <3

yourusername @/charles_leclerc so when were we getting a Leo roscoe crossover?

user2 its a crime that it hasn't happened yet

charles_leclerc they can meet in budapest

yourusername that better be a promise

✧˖ °. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁‧₊˚ . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁˖°✧

liked by yourusername, charles_leclerc, and 632,394 more

scuderiaferrari Ferrari 1-2 in Spa. Let's keep pushing ❤️

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yourusername congrats lew and charlie <3 you both drove an amazing race

user1 "lew" "charlie" 🥹

user8 shes the cutest :(

user14 "thank you y/n" we all say in unison

lewishamilton thank you y/n

charles_leclerc thank you y/n

landonorris thank you y/n

user7 Lando you're not even a ferrari driver 😭

user9 MANIFESTING WORKED

user15 and how come y/n's not in this post

user3 wheres y/n?

user8 they're trying to silence women

user9 confirmed women haters

user5 GET IN THERE LEWIS

user12 I'm crying they're 1-2 in the championship too hdjdjddj

user14 I need them to go pull Adrian Newey out of retirement now

user2 ❤️forza ferrari❤️

fredrikvesti WE MISS YOU AT MERCEDES

yourusername me or Lewis?

georgerussell63 neither

yourusername @/georgerussell63 and I thought we were friends

georgerussell63 you're traitors 🫵

user5 I love that this is a running joke

✧˖ °. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁‧₊˚ . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁˖°✧

✧˖ °. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁‧₊˚ . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁˖°✧

-Time Skip: Mexico-

liked by francisca.gomes, shecoperez, and 347,629 more

yourusername had to visit rosarito before I head to mexico city

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yourbestfriend we NEED a girls trip here

yourusername you, me, kika, lily mhe

lilymhe I’m so there

user12 welcome to mexico!!!

user14 how is she so pretty 😭

user18 those tacos look so good

user90 🤢

user3 bros so weird

user19 imagine going out of your way to comment that

user1 so aesthetic

user20 ❤️❤️❤️

user17 your so gorgeous

scuderiaferrari the mexico f1 parties go crazy

yourusername fuck yea !!!

user6 what’s admin doing here

user15 I have an undying love for f1 insta account admins

✧˖ °. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁‧₊˚ . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁˖°✧

liked by shecoperez, carlossainz55, and 693,240 more

yourusername oh we are SO back @/landonorris @/mexicogp

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yourusername @/shecoperez congrats on your home race win ❤️🇲🇽

shecoperez gracias

yourbestfriend CACKLING over that picture of Lando

user7 the sombrero is the cherry on top 😭

user1 I'm obsessed with the mexico gp

user10 her side profile >>>

user17 you're gorgeous

user6 lando's face 💀

user4 the race was amazzingg

user7 plus we got a Charles podium !

user67 maybe if she spent more time working instead of posting about her life they would have won

user9 dude...

user1 nah caus that's CRAZY 😭

user8 @/user67 hombre jodete

user12 SHES SO PRETTY

✧˖ °. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁‧₊˚ . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁˖°✧

liked by fernandoalonso, georgerussell63, 942,394 users

landonorris @/yourusername, @/fernandoalonso, @/georgerussell63

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user14 who's mouth is y/n pouring alcohol into? 😭

georgerussell63 no one knows

user6 PLEASEE 💀

user1 dj Lando 🫦

user8 SO REAL

user19 lando tho 🤭

user2 nando*

user19 honestly yea

user7 giggling, twirling my hair, kicking my feet

user5 dj lando save me...

user5 dj lando

user5 save me dj lando

user6 I WANNA BE SAAAVEEED

user6 carmen is so pretty

user8 I love them

user4 *me patiently waiting for a chaotic insta story*

user3 wheres max?

yourusername drunk, looking like a frat boy, with a group of men I've never met

user10 sounds like max

user9 dj Lando AND frat boy max?!?!?

✧˖ °. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁‧₊˚ . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁˖°✧

✧˖ °. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁‧₊˚ . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁˖°✧

liked by lewishamilton, francisca.gomes, pierregasly, and 453,482 more

yourusername me and my favorite man in Brasil

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landonorris I thought I was your favorite man

yourusername that's awkward 😬

oscarpiastri that's so embarrassing for you

user7 sassy oscar >>>

francisca.gomes Ill see you in the paddock <3

yourusername ily pookems see you there

user8 obsessed with their friendship

user6 lewis looks so good

user17 SURFER LEWIS !!!

user4 NEED that brasil tank top

user9 begging for a closet tour

user5 anyone else sensing some romantic tension between y/n and lando?

user10 YES absolutley

user23 they're just friends

✧˖ °. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁‧₊˚ . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁˖°✧

liked by yourusername, oscarpiastri, and 539,349

landonorris puede que no sea el primero en tu corazón, pero al menos he llegado el primero en la carrera

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yourusername THATS SO SAD I was just joking earlier with lewis I swear you're absolutely first in my heart 🥺❤️

user13 AWWW

user17 *sobs*

user2 I can't be the only one who thinks they're in love

user8 LANDO 😭💔

user9 *clutches heart*

user7 shoulda said this in portugese :/

user1 not everyone can speak a thousand languages like y/n

user12 lando puts the bi in bilingual

user9 lmao the mood change

user10 lando nowins

user11 lando twowins

user4 LANDO WINS THE BRAZILIAN GRAND PRIX !!!

maxverstappen1 congrats on your win mate

*liked by original poster*

✧˖ °. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁‧₊˚ . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁˖°✧

-Abu Dhabi-

The Italian anthem was chanted by the Ferrari team as Lewis, Max, and Charles stood on the podium.

"Stringiamci a coorte! Siam pronti alla morte. Siam pronti alla morte, L'Italia chiamò..."

Champagne drenched your body causing confetti to stick to your hair and skin. It was certainly a battle between the three who were all tied in the points going into today's race. Lewis crossed the finish line first causing the entire atmosphere to change. The crowds and the Ferrari garage erupted in applause and gleeful cheers.

Everyone was still overjoyed as you looked down at the crowd below the podium you were standing on. You quickly pulled a few pieces of confetti off of yourself and the champagne bottle you were holding, stashing them in your pocket.

You hugged Lewis tightly as you congratulated him on his eighth world championship and he thanked you for all your hard work. It was an incredible piece of history you had the honor to be a part of.

-F1 Winter Break-

liked by landonorris, carlossainz55, maxfewtrell and 693,482 more

yourusername took my (favorite) man to panama. te amo <3

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georgerussell63 took you long enough

carlossainz55 so this is why you denied my invitation to spain

user8 lando just casually cheating on carlos right in front of his eyes 😔

user10 the last picture hello ?!?!?

user15 they're so cute

lilymhe literally couple goals

yourusername no you and alex !!!

landonorris @/yourusername you don't think we're couple goals?

user2 stop breaking his heart like that y/n

maxfewtrell last picture creds?

yourusername 😐

user7 @/maxfewtrell why are you taking pictures of them like making out 😭

user6 why's max even on their romantic getaway anyway fhfjsks

user9 BABE WAKE UP NEW Y/N X LANDO CONTENT

lewishamilton nos vemos la próxima temporada

yourusername congrats on your championship - nos vemos la próxima temporada lewis <3

✧˖ °. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁‧₊˚ . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁˖°✧

end notes: I hope this was a good end to the mini series ! tysm for all the support on the first part and ty for reading ♥

[makethatelevenrings]

Reports and Renewal // S. Riley x f!reader

A/N: hiiiii consider this a 5k follower celebration!!! thank you!!! wtf!!! I am SLAMMED with life and work right now. I'm about to post this and go study some more but HI I APPRECIATE YOU ALL SO MUCH.

I will hopefully be able to do more of a celebration/interactive follower thing once I absolutely dominate this test. Bc I will. (Manifesting!!) warnings: mentions of injuries (fractures, ligament tears) and fatigue, subtle misogyny, swearing but tbh if you're reading COD fanfics and are surprised by swearing...I can't help you

Two sharp raps against the wood of your door drew you away from the cursor blinking repeatedly and the slow creep of it across the page. It wasn’t your fault that it was taking you longer than usual. Only one of your hands was in commission right now thanks to a nasty fall during the last mission. The thought of the injury made your lips thin into a grimace as the sling on your shoulder dug into the tender skin there. A fractured radius and a torn ligament in your shoulder meant you would be stuck at a desk for about two months.

You shuffled the papers back into the manila folder and cleared your throat before calling out a brusque, “come in.”

While you were expecting someone to come in and add more to the growing piles of reports that you needed to type out. Since you weren’t able to be in the field, everyone on your team assumed that you would gladly take on their grunt work.

The massive form of Lieutenant Riley filled the doorframe and you instinctively glanced at his hands for some files, relieved to see something other than those fucking folders. But your brow raised as he stepped into your office and brandished what he held in his gloved hands.

“They gave me an extra sandwich by accident,” he said in lieu of an explanation. “Cook thinks I need to eat the whole fuckin’ Mess. Figured you’d need t’eat something since you weren’t there.”

You spared a glance at the clock on your computer and let out a noncommittal hum. Huh. Guess you were so focused on getting through all this work that you missed dinner call. That sparked your body into making you aware of the stiffness of your joints. You sat back against your chair, a small groan escaping you as your spine stretched and popped.

“Yeah, thanks.” You gestured with your uninjured hand for him to sit across from you. The lieutenant eased himself down into the small wooden desk chair and grimaced at the creak it emitted as it strained under his mass. He leaned forward and placed the sandwich on top of the file you had been working on before sitting back, eyeing the pile that had amassed in the corner of your desk.

“These all yours?” he grunted. You huffed out a laugh that turned into a triumphant cry when you successfully got the sandwich unwrapped.

“Clearly not considering I’m the only asshole around here who finishes their shit on time. Apparently desk duty means being the paperwork lackey. I’m surprised you haven’t caught on and brought me something to type up.”

His dark eyes studied the pile of papers and then he picked them up, thumbing through the paperwork. You didn’t worry about him looking at it. He was of equal rank as you and, while you weren’t 141, you operated in similar circles and collaborated on missions enough to know that he was a cold bastard, but he wouldn’t jeopardize anything.

“Any of these my guys?”

“Nah, MacTavish and Garrick would never.” You took a bite of the dry sandwich and nearly moaned. It was boring and plain and tasted a bit like sawdust, but you were starving. Simon silently nudged your water bottle closer to you and you nodded in thanks. He snapped the files close and set them back on the edge of the desk, the corner teetering off the side and nearly tipping over under the weight.

“Arm’s alright?” Ever the conscientious leader. The constant ache of your torn ligament and broken bone was frustrating, but it was a nice reminder that you were alive. The fall had been from a warehouse walkway when an assailant tossed his empty gun and instead went for a tackle that sent you both over the edge. You twisted your body to make sure he took the brunt of the fall, but your arm hit the ground first after he did. The evac had been a nightmare and couldn’t get in for three hours. Three hours of brutal pain radiating with every move as you and your team held back an onslaught of fire until the 141 was sent to finish business.

“I live to see another day,” you said, with both a hint of humor and the tension of your tentative morality lining your words. You sat back in your chair and winced as your arm jostled against your side.

“You should be resting,” he chastised.

You scoffed. “You’re one to talk. Didn’t you come back to work three hours after your appendix burst?”

His mask hid his face, but you could see the slight crinkle of his eyes and that was enough to confirm that the bastard was smirking. You had seen him walk out of medical after they dug two bullets out of his shoulder. There was a reason why the Ghost was such a legend. He didn’t answer but instead pointed at your food and you dutifully took another bite.

“Your team is a bunch of dicks,” he finally said. You bristled at his words and immediately went to defend your men, but he simply raised a hand to stop any arguments. That just made your skin prickle even more with indignation.

“Don’t get me wrong, they’re good at what they do. But you’re better. Price has asked about bringing you onto our team.”

“Pretty sure I’d slow you down,” you muttered. Yeah, your team had no qualms in dropping piles of paperwork on your desk, leaving their shit in the gym for you to clean up, and made a point of never inviting you out after work hours. But you didn’t join the military to become best buddies with everyone. You were good at your job, but you weren’t task force material. The 141 were the guys that went in when no one else could. You were the person they sent in when it was a mid-level threat.

“Top of your recruitment class, high marks in everything except in things we can easily train you on. Besides, we got some demolition nuts already. Don’t need a third one of you or Price will go gray by next year. You’re one of the best analysts and have prepared more missions than most. Price thinks you should join us.”

You took a sip of your water to jostle the dryness out of your throat and then screwed the cap back on. Your eyes caught his and you met his stare head on. The Ghost should scare you. He should make you avert your gaze and apologize for daring to look.

He had never made you feel that way. From the moment you were assigned to this base, to this unit, to this office, the Ghost had been distant but decently nice. You had seen him ream out privates for forgetting to tuck their pants into their boots before. Hell, you could hear him yelling at privates and cadets as they attempted the obstacle courses in the pouring rain while you were inside. But he had never raised his voice with you. 

Sure, he had been firm and even snapped once or twice, but he hadn’t yelled the way he had at the kid who tracked mud through the halls last week. Simon made him get a bucket and a brush and to scrub the floors by hand so the janitors wouldn’t have to clean up his mess.

“You’re an established team already. I would just throw off the dynamics.”

“Garrick and Soap already agree they want you in,” he retorted.

Maybe you had a concussion too. Your mind was fuzzy with the details when the 141 came to evac your team. The pain had started to make your brain go foggy when they breached the building. How did you get onto the heli? Surely you walked, right? But you can also remember someone shaking you. That hurt like a bitch. Your team hadn’t given a shit about you at that point when they were busy saving their own hides. 

“What do you think about me joining?” The words left you before you could reel them back. You wanted to know. You were terrified of the answer. He had given you this hope, but was he cruel enough to take it away? Was this the Ghost toying with you? You wished you could see his face.

He merely stood and grabbed the stack of files from your desk, nodded curtly, and exited your office without another word. You waited until the door shut behind him before you let out a long, frustrated breath.

“That motherfucker,” you swore under your breath. Fucking hell, your shoulder ached. Your head ached too. You let it fall against the cool wood of your desk and shut your eyes in an attempt to ward off the exhaustion, pain, and embarrassment that now burned its way through your chest.

Might as well get this goddamn fucking report done.

You sat back up, pushed it all aside, compartmentalized, breathed. You opened the folder and began to peck at the keyboard once more.

Once it was done and sent to the appropriate COs and channels, you grabbed your bag and made your way down the hall towards the Mess. You were almost out of the office quadrant when a gruff voice called your name. Captain Price exited his office and extended his hand, luckily the opposite of your uninjured one so it wasn’t an awkward shake.

“Got your transfer paperwork drawn up and ready, if you want to sign it before you head out. Get you over to our team faster. I’ve heard great things from your CO and I’ve seen the work you’ve done in the field. It’ll be nice having someone more level headed than those muppets.” He paused and an almost pained look took over his face. “How likely are you to accidentally set off an explosive just for shits and giggles?”

You stifled a laugh and followed him into his office so you could sign those papers.

“Simon has told me what he’s seen during your training. You’ll be a great asset to have on the 141,” Price continued once you signed your name without hesitation. You paused once his words sunk in and looked up at your new boss.

“Ghost has talked about me?”

“Christ, I think he might be ready to make some fucking t-shirts with your face on it. Thought he damn near ripped the spines out of those boys who had you doing their reports. Don’t tell him I told you that. He’d take a right fucking piss out of me.”

“Your secret’s safe with me, sir,” you assured.

“Right, dismissed then. Be here at 0700 tomorrow. I don’t give a shit if you’re on IR, we’ll find something for you that isn’t pecking the keys until your eyes fall out from staring at that screen.” You nodded and didn’t even try to fight the smile that crept onto your face. It lingered on your face, right next to the phantom touch of the Ghost’s gloves when he grasped your face the moment they found you in that warehouse.

[sssammich]

day 2: romance

you can also read the fic on ao3

the rest of sctober prompts: crepe AU: part 1 | part 2 | part 3 day 19: hazy, day 22: art, day 24: enchanted, day 30: magic

--

Now, here's the thing. Lena is a reasonable woman. She's a woman of many, many means and has more money that even God knows what to do with. So she doesn't expect much, save, perhaps, for some respect and authenticity. 

But even that seems like asking for a lot tonight. Especially when she peers over her wine glass over at her date in front of her—a man who sounded perfect on paper (which, in retrospect, was probably where this slow demise of a date began): great job, good looks, decent upbringing—and knows there's clearly been a miscommunication of sorts.

His nervous energy, she can understand. His overcompensation, even more so. Yet that manifests in rude manners as he interrupts her, arrogance in not-so-subtly considering her position as a CEO, and his tired misogyny in his expectations of what his paying for dinner truly affords him.

So she waits for him to finish talking, as he's monopolized the last ten minutes talking about some financial tech start-up for fish or something or the other. He FINALLY glances at her, flashes what she can only assume is his most winning smile. Which is the only thing she was waiting for, frankly, before she scoots her chair back and subtly waves at a server who already seems to have her coat at the ready.

"Whoa-wait, where are you going? They’ve barely served us the apps."

She smiles down at him, though her eyes are sharp and narrowed. "Riveting as you may think it is to listen to you, I'm going home and having a very lovely evening with my vibrator. I believe I'll have a much more fulfilling time with it than with you."

His jaw drops slightly, sputtering out sorry excuses for words, his face going through a roller coaster journey of expressions—a considerable improvement from the smarmy smile he'd been presenting her since she first saw him. She can even see how his cheeks and ears redden at her comment, could have possibly considered it cute if he was even an ounce less of who he was. The look on his face is almost worth the stress of what little of this dinner has already cost her sanity and time. She turns to the server beside her just as he helps her shrug on her coat, his face the poster of professional decorum, except for the slight twitch from the corner of his lips that betrays him slightly. 

And just because she can, Lena rummages through her clutch and pulls out a few hundred dollar bills, where she throws a couple on the table and rolls one to insert in the server’s breast pocket. 

She leaves without a single glance back despite feeling all eyes on her.

When she exits out of the restaurant, her driver is already waiting for her at the front. She takes a deep breath and exhales before walking up to him and dismissing him for the night, telling him that she’ll find her way back just fine. She walks away with a final greeting and heads towards the direction of the park.

Lena reaches the edge of the park where she finds a slew of food trucks lining the curb. Most of them have some customers in line waiting except for the bright yellow one parked at the very end. Typically, Lena would hesitate approaching a food truck without customers as that is surely cause for concern. Yet the name ‘Love is Crepe’ seems to call to her, perhaps fitting of the night she’d just endured. 

She stands just to the side of the awning with a gaze towards the menu, determining if she should treat herself to both sweet and savory crepes. She decides she deserves to indulge herself. 

Yet when she walks up to the front counter, she realizes there’s a handwritten sign that notes: 

SOLD OUT 

THANKS AND SORRY :( 

-crepe mgmt

She can’t help the amused smile on her face even if she finds herself disappointed in not getting any crepes, after all. She’s just about to turn around when she jumps at the sound of someone yelping in surprise behind her. 

“Oh!” 

She turns around and stops in her tracks when she finds the most attractive woman she’s ever laid eyes on carrying three different bags of food from what appears to be the other food trucks. It takes her a second to process that she should speak, yet her eyes can’t help but glance at the blonde hair pulled into a ponytail, the sharp jaw, the perfect curved lips, and the blue of the woman’s eyes behind black rimmed glasses. Her gaze dips to the womans’ biceps, the t-shirt sleeves folded up to her shoulders, straining slightly under the weight of the bags she’s carrying. 

Lena clears her throat. “I—I thought you were open, but I see you’d sold out of everything.” 

Despite being the one to have been caught surprised, it’s the blonde woman who’s standing stock still in front of her, surprise slapped on her face. “You’re Lena Luthor.” 

This time, it’s her turn to be shocked. “Oh, um, yes.” 

The woman shakes her head and quickly drops the bags on one of the tables parked right in front of the truck. “Oh my golly, I’m so sorry, that’s—well that was very impolite of me. I’ve just–I’m a big fan. I, wait-no. I mean, I am. I totally am, but like, you’re you, I mean—hang on. Um, wait.” The woman then puts her hands on her waist, and positions her body so she’s properly facing Lena before taking a deep breath. “You want crepes?” 

Lena’s brows furrow in amused confusion even as she slowly nods. Something about the way this woman stumbles through her words and her movements has Lena endeared, and so she responds, a slow smile already forming on her lips. “Yes, but I see you’re sold out.” 

“Oh, right. I am, but I—” the woman pauses and puts a finger up, a frenetic energy about her, before rushing to the back of the truck. Lena hears rummaging and movement, until the woman pops her head out of the front window, crumpling the piece of paper notice as she slides the window to the side. “I can—I can make you one crepe. Like a malnourished crepe because it won’t have as many strawberries or Nutella, but I can make it. Do you still want it?” 

She’s poised to decline, not wanting to interrupt this woman’s night, but the expectant and almost eager way the woman is staring down at her from the window, hopeful and anticipating, has Lena nodding her head before she can even gather her wits about her. 

The woman is overjoyed, so Lena believes she’d given the right answer. Something warm buzzes inside of Lena when she witnesses the woman’s bright smile before she disappears from the window. 

Lena takes a seat right by where the woman’s food is, a small frown forming when she realizes she’s more than likely interrupted this woman’s dinner. Yet, the woman seems more than happy to work in her truck, so with hesitant resignation, Lena just waits. 

Before long, the woman comes out and personally puts her plate right in front of her with a set of plastic utensils wrapped in a napkin. “You didn’t have to do that,” she comments, even as her mouth salivates at the smell of the dish in front of her. 

“It was no trouble at all.” Then the woman’s eyes widened. “Oh, unless you wanted it to go. Oh man, I didn’t even ask. Did you—” 

But Lena just shakes her head. “Here’s fine.” 

The woman beams at her, and Lena briefly wonders how it feels for people in this woman's life to constantly be on the receiving end of such a bright and warm smile. Lena’s frown forms as she watches as the woman then takes her bag of food off the table. 

“Won’t you join me? Since I so rudely interrupted your dinner.” 

“But you’re Lena Luthor.”  

She smiles at that. “And you are?” 

The woman’s mouth opens, shock evident on her face, before it transforms into a smile. “Kara. You can call me Kara.” 

“Well, Kara. Won’t you join me?” 

There’s the smile again as Kara wordlessly nods, and sits herself directly across from Lena. She waits until Kara empties out all of the food from her takeout bags, the spread fully taking over the table they’re sitting on. Kara nudges the containers her way, prompting Lena to quirk a brow. 

“Please help yourself.” 

“Are you sure?” 

“Absolutely.” 

She responds with a smile in kind and digs into her crepe, enjoying the flavors of her sweet crepe. “This is really quite delicious,” she offers, meaning every word. 

Kara shyly ducks her head even as she smiles proudly. “Thanks! It was slow going for a while, but my friend Nia mentioned that I should put myself in the videos so they could connect with me and not just the crepes. So I guess they’ve been able to see that I really care about the food I make and the videos have been going viral.”  

Lena tilts her head in observation, thinks to herself, I don’t think it’s just the crepes they’re looking at.  

Suddenly, Kara’s mouth drops and her cheeks redden. Belatedly, and much to Lena’s horror, she realizes that she’s said her thoughts out loud. This time, it’s her turn to cover her face. “Oh god, I’m sorry. That was—” 

“Thank you, Lena.” 

“You dropped the Luthor.” 

“I realized I’d said it twice already, I feel like I’ve hit my quota of full naming you for the day.” 

She laughs at that, though a sense of self-deprecation leaks out despite her best attempts.  “Thank you for not shunning me away even knowing who I am.” 

A crinkle of concern appears between Kara’s brows and Lena wonders, not for the last time that evening, how it feels to see that regularly. 

“The only Lena Luthor I know is the one who has tirelessly made the Children’s Hospital the best one in the country so my niece Esme can get the care that she needs. So, I’d say you’re the last person I’d shun away.” 

Kara’s stares at her intently, gratitude written all over her face. 

“I’m glad to hear that,” is all Lena says, not wanting to overstep by asking more questions. She and Kara are basically strangers, and she wouldn’t want to make her uncomfortable. 

“Besides, who shuns away pretty ladies?” Kara says with a shrug before popping an entire potsticker in her mouth. The two of them sport identical rosy cheeks when Lena catches up to Kara’s words just as Kara seems to realize exactly what she’d said. 

“Well, thank you, Kara.” 

Kara tilts her head and smiles, making a show of swallowing the potsticker that Lena giggles at, and shifting her glasses back up on her face. “Anytime, Lena.” 

She can’t help but compare the woman in front of her to the man who’d attempted to wine and dine her earlier tonight. How their eyes shared the same shade of blue, yet Lena thinks she’d happily lose herself in staring at Kara as she listens to the other woman talk about food.

She does just that when they spend the rest of their time in companionable conversation, Kara urging her to try the dishes that litter their table. Before long, the first hour rolls into one, then two, until she glances up and finds that the other food trucks are beginning to break down for the night. 

“Oh, I’m sorry for taking up so much of your time,” she says when she wraps her coat tightly around her. “You now have to stay longer to clean up.” 

But Kara waves her off just as she finishes cleaning. “No! Please! You’re the one all dressed up tonight. I hope I wasn’t keeping you from anything.” 

“God, no. If anything you were saving me.” 

Lena thinks she notices Kara standing up a bit taller. “Bad date?” 

“Terrible. Perhaps romance is simply not in the cards for me.” 

“I don’t believe that,” Kara says, with a shake of her head. “You’re too amazing to not find someone who’ll appreciate you for who you are, Lena Luthor.” 

“Careful, you’ve exceeded your full naming quota.” 

“Forgive me just this once?” Kara bows her head slightly, a teasing smile on her face.

“Only if you take this.” Lena then proceeds to take out a couple hundred dollar bills and tries to offer it to Kara. But Kara covers her hand and closes it for her, the bills clutched in her fist. She is now fully aware of the warmth of Kara’s hand on top of hers, the softness of it on her skin. Now that she knows this, she’s not sure she can go back to not knowing. To not knowing who Kara is, really.

“Absolutely not! Tonight’s on me. Plus, that was not a true trademark Love is Crepe crepe, okay? I can totally do better. No, I will totally do better!” 

“Is that so?” 

“Yes! Why don’t you come back tomorrow, and I’ll prove it to you.” 

Lena’s heart flutters at the idea of seeing Kara again. “I suppose I can settle for that.” 

“Good, it’s settled. So see you tomorrow?” 

“See you then.”  

She doesn’t linger for too much longer, hailing a cab and staring out the window until a waving Kara disappears from view. 

When she gets home, Lena opens her phone and calls her best friend.

“Oh, Sam. I think I’m in love.” 

“The date went well?” Sam asks incredulously from the other end of the line. 

“Oh god, no. The date was a disaster, I never wanna see that guy ever again.” 

Sam laughs. “Okay, then if not him, who? Start from the top, babe. What’s his name?” 

Lena closes her eyes, images of Kara’s beauty filling her mind. Of their dinner together, of the meandering and rich conversation they had tonight. Of the way Kara laughed with her whole body, and smiled with her whole face. 

“Well,” she begins, unable to wipe the large excited smile on her own face. “Her name is Kara.” 

[sxnshxnxxnddxxsxxs]

how poor are the weasley’s?

i think this question really just encapsulates jkr’s shitty world building because there are so many interconnected elements.

oh and as always fuck jkr for the antisemitism, transphobia, racism, holocaust denial, barely veiled misogyny and the rest of her sins.

why is there poverty in the first place?

in a world with magic where you can create practically anything but food out of nothing why are people poor. especially when the you can’t create food rule has the caveat if you already have food you can just duplicate it. moreover in a world where theoretically you can get everything you need with the right spell why do you need money? the answer in all likelihood is probably convenience because most people don’t have time to find the spell for this that and the other. but if you don’t have money theoretically there is still a away to provide for yourself. also i’m pretty sure there’s no lore against just conjuring gold so theoretically there’s no reason to be without money.

the weasleys and mismanaging their money

in harry and ron’s first train ride we get the introduction to the weasleys poverty and the frankly ludicrous mismanagement of their funds. first of all we get that percy got brand new robes not because he had grown out of his old ones but because he was made a prefect and that he also got a new owl. then we get ron who has bill’s old robes, charlie’s old wand and percy’s old rat and no money for the trolley just his least favourite sandwiches. now i’ll come back to my thoughts on the robes in a bit. now charlie’s old wand is a known plot hole but still why did he get a new wand especially considering that charlie graduated from hogwarts in the summer of 1991 if you have money to buy a wand at that point in time surely it should go to the child who needs a wand and doesn’t yet have one. but say charlie just really needed a new wand then use the spare cash you spent on percy’s robes and owl. like it just gives irresponsible to not dedicate money to the kid that needs it the most.

what are the indicators of the weasleys poverty?

i ask this because while poverty certainly manifests differently in different situations i find that the way the weasley finances are described and how they are portrayed to live don’t quite match up. now the big one is when they go to gringotts in CoS when all that’s in the weasley vault is a small pile of sickles and one galleon. but i’d also say that that is the only real indicator of the weasleys being poor because the two main other factors are the hand me down clothes and books. now i personally don’t find this to be an indicator of poverty at all i actually find it entirely normal. as some who had a school uniform (i went to state school in the uk) they are not cheap one full set of my uniform (blazer, jumper, shirt, kilt and socks) cost upwards of £200 and in a pair of shoes that will last at least the year and that’s at least another £50 or so. so it was the unquestionable norm in my school that if you had an older sibling who had spare uniform because they were graduated or had grown out of it then you would wear it (provided it was in good nick) and it was the same with textbooks the syllabus barely changed unless the entire national curriculum was updated so if you could inherit a textbook or set text you would, in fact you were at an advantage if it was for something like english lit because the annotations would already be there. and even if you didn’t have an older sibling in my school we were actively encouraged to buy second hand books. like i’m sorry but i just don’t accept hand me downs especially in this context as being a sign of poverty. now there are very big indicators of poverty that the weasleys don’t have (and obviously irl you can still be poor and not have these apply to you i just think it’s worth mentioning) which are food insecurity and housing insecurity.

now i would like to make it clear that i don’t think that the weasleys are particularly well off i just don’t think that they’re destitute in the way jkr wants the audience to believe (possibly because she’s never interacted with poverty on a significant level) which leads me into my next point.

comparative poverty

most of the times that the weasleys poverty is being examined it’s in the context of a comparison to either harry or the malfoys who are all significantly wealthy (the malfoys more so than harry) which provides a very skewed perspective of how poor the weasleys are because i’d wager that hermione (who is implied to be upper middle class considering her parents are dentists) would look poor certainly next to the malfoys. with harry it’s harder to say just because we really have no clue how rich harry actually is.

class vs money

now this is both related and unrelated but partially because of jkr’s very inconsistent writing of the weasleys being poor and her world building or lack there of but the weasleys very much come off to me like an upper class family. and this is a reminder that in the uk money and class are very different and that one does not inform the other. money can help you present your class but that’s about it. it is more than possible to be upper class and not have a pot to piss in (or in the forever iconic words of beverly: not have a pot in which to piss). and i think that the weasleys being an upper class family that lost their fortune at some point really informs some of their decisions like the fact that they are a single income household when after ginny goes to hogwarts i don’t really see why molly wouldn’t get a job. and the fact that when when arthur and lucius fight it’s generally about money and arthur being jealous of lucius’s fortune which would make even more sense if at one point the pair were equals in the social hierarchy. not to mention that the weasleys are part of the sacred twenty eight and class and blood status are very closely linked in the narrative.

all this to say that when you examine the nature of poverty in the wizarding world especially when your case study is the weasleys it makes very little sense. not only the first question of why is there poverty in the first place (and why the hell is there inflation i could write a whole separate think piece on this tapped fucking money system). but since it does exist how does it manifest itself? like bills aren’t really a thing because houses are powered by magic and rent isn’t really mentioned i don’t think, the weasleys own their house (another class indicator). it just really doesn’t make sense to me. also i haven’t really included ron being bullied for being poor by draco because the majority of people are poor compared to draco and draco is a dickhead eleven year old like i doubt he even knows how money works.

[seasoned-salt-4]

So, rant incoming. When I first discovered Nana Hiiragi hate, I was confused. Part of it probably was my autistic brain, but I couldn't grasp how Nana got so much hate when in those same circles I saw characters like Lelouch vi Britannia, Walter White, and Light Yagami getting praised a lot. I assumed most fans of those different series weren't concerned with the protagonist's crimes. Then I just kept seeing this vile hate directed at Nana. I couldn't put it together. The closest I got was thinking people had a problem with Nana getting away with her crimes among us style, but that same game should show people who hate Nana that it's easier to fall for manipulation than they seem to think. But I was going about it the wrong way. They didn't care about the technicality behind Nana getting away with murder; they wanted to see her get caught. They didn't engage with Nana's story because they were hung up about Nakajima. I had heard of male power fantasy before then, mostly about how poorly written a majority of male power fantasy stories are. Then it clicked for me: all the characters getting praised despite their crimes are male. However, Nana, being a girl, didn't get that same lenient treatment. Some of the misogyny towards Nana is specifically about Nakajima, with Nakajima's fans being upset that Nana isn't a brainless love interest but rather her own character with her own goals outside of Nakajima. Not all of it is about Nakajima though; the misogyny manifests elsewhere as well, such as when Nana haters ignore how she was groomed from childhood and mentally abused by Tsuruoka and her relatives for years. I understand that it's not shown right away, so it's not the first impression of Nana that we get, however, I've seen at least three Nana haters who hate to read the manga completely disregard her trauma and think she has full autonomy on the island, that she can just walk away and not do her mission she's been groomed into doing for years. As someone who grew up in a Christian house, I understand how difficult it is to leave behind an ideology that's been drilled into your brain since you were young. I didn't suffer nearly as much mental trauma as Nana did with her parents' deaths, but I can see how difficult it was for Nana to realize that she was being used and escape Tsuruoka's influence. Nana is mentally strong, don't get me wrong, but the moment she learns her childhood has been a lie, she attempts suicide. That's not something you can easily get over. Anyway, sorry for the rant. I get like this sometimes. Nana fires me up easily since I relate to her, and the way her fandom and haters talk about her pisses me off.

[just-some-random-blogger]

Hi💕

I was thinking about a thrope that i always find very cute

Men: why would i want a loyal and quiet woman when i can have blind hatred?

Woman: you think you can get a woman to stick with you ?

Men: * heart eyes* see, that is exactly what i need

Daemon with a reader who is not royal and they met when she kicked his ass while stealing money

Attenzione Pickpocket!

Daemon Targaryen x Robin Hood!Reader

Summary: The commander of the gold cloaks was instructed to track down a thief that was stealing from the nobles. Daemon cared little for the task, up until he, himself, in a word, was stolen from.

Word Count: 1k+

Warnings: fem!reader, prostitute!reader, ye old misogyny, manhandling, mention of injury, typos, etc.

A/N: ok i wasnt actually sure if this was a req but i kept it because i really liked the prompt. robin hood was the first thing that i thought of and ok its not too much of that but whatever. nonnie your prompt really got mangled but i hope you still like it (: ive been wanting to write for daemon for a while so im tryna manifest a writing streak with this fic. Tagging: @pinksirensong @aralezinspace @sloanexx @deniixlovezelda @targaryenmoony @risefallrise @slavyanskiyahui

There is a frantic pounding on my door.

I whine as I struggle to tie the bandages around my torso. I spit out the cloth I stuffed in my mouth to muffle my whimpers, "GIVE ME A MOMENT, GRETA!"

Her panicked and muffled voice sounds from behind my locked door. She jiggles the knob, "but the prince-"

There is a squeak followed by a louder round of knocks. I scramble when I hear the shrill voice a man outside.

"Give me a second," I mutter under my breath as I scramble to put on my shift.

"If you don't fucking open the door, I'm going to-"

His words are cut off by the sound of me undoing my lock and ripping the door open. Daemon Targaryen, clad in his armor and gold cloak, as well as my poor darling Greta, our poor barmaid, barely ten and six, look at me as I huff.

I nod at Greta, dismissing her. She gratefully and wordlessly flees the scene. I turn back to man, "a bit early for your dr-"

Daemon pushes past me, undoing his cloak as he blurts, "you want your coin or not, whore?"

I huff again, straining as I whip back to him, forgetting momentarily that I was rather gravely injured. I hold back a whine as I walk up to him.

Daemon drops his cloak and marches over it. He sits then slumps on my bed. He looks at me and parts his legs. I hold back my chuckle and I sit on his lap, dutifully undoing his armor.

He stops me and takes my hand, barely shaking his head in disagreement. We lock eyes for a moment and pull my hand away when he releases it. I decide then to brush his hair back.

Daemon immediately sighs. I kiss his jaw. His hand comes to my thigh and slowly pushes my skirt up. I mutter against him, "why so tense, commander?"

He rubs the bridge of nose, "there's a thief in King's Landing."

"Mmm," I pull back to raise a brow at him, "and there's a prince in a brothel," I rub his cheek with my thumb, "I can't say I'm surprised."

Daemon clenches his jaw as he wraps an arm around me, "this is different."

"Hmm, let me guess," I brush his lips with my thumb, "did this one steal from our dragonling?"

He does not retort as I play with his lips. I coo, "come now, prince. Surely a pouch of silver is not something you of all people would mourn."

"It was ten pouches. I was moving coin from the treasury."

I chuckle and mutter, "oh, I knew that. Didn't a few golden busts get taken as well?"

Daemon looks at me.

"Didn't you nick the thief in the rib?" I tilt my head.

"I stabbed him," he corrects, "but the fuck was too fast."

"You've just gotten slow," I chuckle, "you were out of breath when you chased me around last week. Remember our playdate, hunter?"

He rolls his eyes.

"I enjoy being your doe, dragonling. I like it when you're in the mood for a chase and a fuck."

Daemon tilts his head and dryly retorts, "I wouldn't have ever guessed."

I chuckle, "Oh, don't be like this. Did it hurt when you fell off your horse? Everyone in the city heard your thu-"

Daemon growls, yanking my hair back, "I did not."

I hold back a laugh.

"Your flies whisper exaggerated accounts."

"Do they now?" I smirk.

He releases my hair and narrows his eyes, "what do you know about that thief anyway?"

I purse my lips and shrug, "what are you here for? A fuck? Or information?"

Daemon does not reply. He does not move either.

"I'm afraid," I tilt my head back, "I can only give you one or the other, dragonling."

He scoffs, "greedy slut."

I raise my brows, "business is business."

Daemon draws out a deep breath. I watch as he puts his hand in his pocket and shows me coins on his palm. He places the coins on my bedside table and mutters, "the thief."

I smile and nod, "the thief it is then."

"Tell me what you know," he says, hand lazily resting on my thigh.

"Hmm," I push his hand off.

He grumbles.

"I was the one that robbed you, prince." I continue, "I was there last night. I watched you get knocked off your horse. I think I saw you even shed a tea-"

A gasp leaves me. His hand comes to my throat. He mutters under his breath, "shut it."

I let out a strained chuckle, "m-make me."

He huffs through his nose and tightens his grip on my jaw. I dig my fingers into his armor and press my thighs together to contain my excitement. My heart quickens. He stares at me for what felt like ages but then releases me.

I catch my breath.

"You liked it last time when you chased me around the streets," I whisper, leaning into his ear. "Would you like to do that again? Shall I wear men's clothing too? A mask? A hood."

"I'm not in the mood for one of your games," Daemon retorts.

I shake my head and pout, "but I am, your grace."

He grunts, "I've been awake since yesterday and you expect me to hound a whore for sport?"

"If you want to get your money's worth," I say as I move off him, "and if you're not boring.

Daemon watches me as I stand and step back. He seems ridiculously irritated.

"Would you like to know a secret prince?" I look at him and tug my shift up slowly.

Daemon's eyes dart to my legs.

"You're not going to get that money back."

He looks up at me and raises a brow, "what?"

"I divided the money across neighborhood."

He tilts his head.

"If you want to catch your thief," I pull my clothes up and show him the cut on my side, "you have to play my game."

Daemon stares for a moment. I drop my shift and smile, really allowing the moment to hook into his mind. I grab my folded clothes, slowly putting them on.

He watches me still as I whimper because of my injury. I raise my brows, "Dark Sister stings awfully. The least you could do is fuck the pain out of my system, no?"

I grab his cloak and toss it to him.

He catches it through his stunned state. For a moment, he looks at me as though he was debating the sincerity of my words.

"I take this as you giving me a head start," I nod and pull my skirt up as I exit the room.

[canonmisogynyvictimstournament]

PROPAGANDA

EVE (PARADISE LOST)

1.) I recognise how insane this submission is because this was written in 1667 and so attitudes towards women were obviously very different. But misogyny has always existed, no matter the time period, and so I think it’s fair to pick up on it. Although Milton somewhat avoids painting Eve as the wicked seductress, she is nevertheless presented as inherently inferior to Adam - her ‘virtue’ and 'passion’ are supposed to be an equal counterpart to Adam’s intellect but Milton’s clear resentment of Eve shines through. She is vain from the beginning - enamoured with her own reflection until she meets Adam. She is Adam’s subordinate and readily accepts her place in the hierarchy below him, until she meets Satan. Women seeking power and knowledge is therefore inextricably tied to the fall of mankind. Her attempt for some kind of independence away from Adam (going to tend the garden away from him) is also presented as the primary reason she succumbed to Satan because Adam is needed to protect her. Eve (the mother of all women) therefore creates the assumption that women are weak and easily misled away from men. The description of her eating the apple is very sexual - perhaps reflecting the anxieties of men at the time of being cuckolded and therefore dishonoured by their wives. She is the ultimate disobedient, dangerous wife. Her reason for sharing the forbidden knowledge with Adam, rather than keeping it for herself, is because she is worried she will face the wrath of God and be replaced with another Eve. So it is her jealousy that brings them both down. (It is all a lot more complicated than this so Eng lit people don’t kill me) but yeah poor Eve.

CORDELIA CHASE (BUFFY THE VAMPIRE SLAYER/ANGEL THE SERIES) (CW: Pregnancy)

1.) (downs an entire bottle of vodka and slams it back on the table) SO. CORDY. Cordy started off as a supporting character in Buffy the Vampire Slayer. At the start she was your typical high school mean girl character, but as the show went on we got to see more depth to her character: her insecurities, her courage, her capacity for incredible acts of kindness. Then after the third season she moved into the show’s spin off, Angel, where from the beginning she was basically the show’s secondary protagonist. Her and Angel were the two mainstays of the show’s main cast, she gets the most episodes centered on her out of all the characters aside from Angel (and yes, I’ve checked), and we really got to see her grow from a very shallow and self-centered and kind of mean person to a true hero who was prepared to give up any chance at a normal life to fight the good fight while still never losing the basic core of her character. There were some… questionable moments like the episode where she gets mystically pregnant with demon babies and things got a bit iffy like halfway through season 3 where the writers seemed to run out of ideas for what to do with her outside of sticking her in this romance drama/love triangle situation with the main character but overall, pretty good stuff right? THEN SEASON 4 HAPPENED. In season 4 she gets stripped of literally all agency and spends pretty much the entire season possessed by an evil higher power, and while possessed she sleeps with Angel’s teenage son (who BY THE WAY she had helped raise as a baby before he got speed-grown-up into a teenager it was a whole thing don’t worry about it) and gets pregnant with like. the physical manifestation of the higher power that’s possessing her. it’s about as bad and stupid as it sounds and also is like the third time cordy’s got mystically pregnant in this show and like the fourth mystical pregnancy storyline overall (you will be hearing more on that note in other submissions I’m so sorry). after giving birth she goes into a coma, in which she remains for the rest of season 4 and the first half of season 5. SPEAKING OF WHICH DON’T THINK SEASON 5 IS GETTING OFF SCOT FREE HERE. yeah so in season 5 the show just FULLY starts trying to erase cordy’s existence. she gets mentioned ONCE in the first episode and then never again until halfway through the season where she wakes up, helps out Angel for a bit and encourages him in his fight against evil, and then goes quietly into that good night and dies so it can be all sad and tragic. I’d call it the worst fridging of all time but even THAT feels generous because the whole point of fridging is killing off a female character so a man can be sad, and after Cordy dies basically no one’s even sad about it because the show immediately goes back to pretending she never existed. she is not mentioned ONCE in the two episodes after she dies. in the whole stretch of time between her death and the end of the season she gets mentioned exactly four times. again, I counted. anyway the fun twist to all of this is that all of this happened because the actress who played cordy got pregnant before season 4 and joss whedon was so pissed off about this affecting his plans for the show that he decided to completely fuck over her character and then fire her and write her out of the show. so cordy’s a victim of both writing AND real life misogyny!! good times!!

2.) OH SO MANY THINGS they menaced by giving her terrible hair cuts, making her seem like she’d get together with the guy she loves (and who loves her back) but instead she was killed and when she was brought back, she got possessed by an evil entity who used her body to give birth to itself. afterwards she was in a long coma and died. her character was so throughoutly assassinated

3.) She got demonically pregnant TWICE - there was this real sense of a womb/ability to get pregnant as like, a place for evil to get in. She got positioned as femme fatale and evil mother. The actress basically got fired for being pregnant, and when she agreed to come back for a single final episode she specifically said they could do anything but kill off the character. Guess what happened

[reikunrei]

Omg thank you for your post about El!! That theory is fun and all but I can't believe people think it has any chance of happening in the show. It would amount to a "it was all a dream" ending, people who hate it, and most of all, as you said it wouldn't make sense. I wonder what you think El's ending is going to be, staying true to the themes of the show? I have no idea what they're going to do with her character and I'm really curious to find out. There's also that video of Millie saying she saw her character's ending and thought "ooohh" and walked away slowly. I feel like dying isn't a good choice but then she's just going to be living her life with her friends and her new found family? That seems too... simple. I'm curious to know your thoughts!

yeah, it's a theory that really drives me up a wall because it sequesters el into this "she's not actually important at all" role, which is just... shitty. for all their flaws, the duffers have a pretty good track record when it comes to writing strong female characters (for the most part), and so it feels just wildly out of character for them to pull the rug out from under el and say "oh, she wasn't actually real the entire time" (whether that be for will-based or mike-based manifestation theories. in both (or any) cases, it pushes her into a position of solely aiding her male counterparts and undoing everything handled in her own personal arc. thus: misogyny).

like you said, it really does feel akin to the "it was all a dream" types of storylines, which the duffers have explicitly scoffed at and said is not what's happening. so like, even if it wouldn't completely undermine the story as it's been presented to us thus far, we have more-or-less solid confirmation that it wouldn't be the basis of st5's conclusion, straight from the horse's mouth.

the only time "it's all fake/it's not real" really comes into play (from what we've seen) is regarding stuff with the lab and, specifically, the mf and henry. the "it's all just a dream" stuff is already explicitly presented to us as a bad thing, or not the solution and rather part of the problem. even as it specifically ties to el, nina is something that's largely or entirely fabricated (even if it has real anchor points), and while she comes out of it having regained her powers, that's very likely not the only goal of nina (but i won't get into that here, that's something james talks about a lot in his upcoming thesis post) and the unreality of it all is much more nefarious than it's been presented as thus far.

i mean, even thinking about st2 and will facing the mf as if it's not real/just a nightmare that he can tell to "go away"... only to have that trust in unreality be his whole undoing? like... it just doesn't make sense to me to make "she's not real" a conclusion when every single bit of unreality we've seen thus far has only aggravated things.

and i know i said this in the tags of that post earlier, but just to bring it to the forefront here... it really confuses me to have el's arc be about being different, being an outsider, and feeling like she doesn't belong because she's weird or "the monster"... only to say she should just be shut away forever or killed because of it? like... just say you think "undesirable" weird people should be separated from society and be done with it.

it's the antithesis of the entire show. stranger things, at its core, since the beginning, has been about society's outcasts trying to find their place in the world and accepting their "freak" side and not trying to "fit in." our introduction of henry has explicitly furthered this idea by putting the burden of accommodation on society, not on the individual. and i'd be shocked if they had her reach a point where she felt like she couldn't find a place in the world when we already see that she's more than capable of fostering a comfortable environment with her friends. it's too much like just... giving up, to go the route of "she's not real."

as for what i think the end of her story will be... i have no idea LOL i don't feel confident enough in anything to put down something concrete here. basically, i just don't think it's going to be something akin to "she's a figment of someone's imagination" or was "created" by one of the other characters. she has her own story, her own history, her own life. i don't know what millie could have been reacting to, but i wouldn't be shocked if it was less so "el's ending" and more so something about answering the question of who she really is. so... less of "what's her last scene on the show" and more just... generally figuring out what her whole deal is, you know? because there's still a lot of holes in her past that need filling.

so i guess an answer i can give here, which is definitely wishful thinking, is that i believe the way her story is "wrapped up" will revolve around learning who her parents really are and the actual history of her life (ie. she's not actually jane ives, one of the henries is her parent in some way shape or form, perhaps even brenner is her biological father in some way, etc.), while also touching on the truth of what happened in the lab in 1979 and forward/figuring out just how messy the order of events presented in nina was. like, i firmly believe that the ending of her arc will involve having to come to terms with some really harsh truths about herself and her lineage, and finally wrap up the whole "monster vs superhero" argument she's had going on in her head. so i do think she'll get her "happy life" with her new family and friends, it'll just be a very messy road to get there.

which ties very neatly into some of the overall themes of the show: that sometimes good people do bad things, bad people do good things, not everything is black and white, and the answer to everything is love, compassion, and understanding, even when someone does something "monstrous."

anyway. thank you for giving me a reason to talk about this more and sorry for rambling LOL this stuff just gets me heated!! it annoys me to no end to see characters constantly shoved into the position of "supporting byler" at the expense of their own arcs, and it especially stings for me when it's done to el. especially because i'm in the camp of, if the show had to pick a singular main character, it would be el. she's the tie between the outside world and the lab. she's the one person who helps to really keep everything together and offer answers. so it just feels wildly counterintuitive to essentially give all of that to someone else and make her an expendable middleman.

[reds-writings]

no.3 “who did this?!” from the three word prompts for rust cohle please!

warnings: mentions of violence, misogyny, men can't take no for an answer, language, etc

Your skull throbbed in a way where you felt like if it continued on for a minute longer your head would bust open like some grotesque little jack-in-the-box toy. The dry heat outside did little to aid your predicament as you sprawled out in some beat-up lawn chair Darla stole from some fool’s yard a couple of months ago. The ice you nabbed from the clubhouse had long since melted as you hid away on the outskirts of camp. These men sure could pack a fucking punch.

They’ve also clearly never heard the word no prick at their eardrums, especially not from some ratty, pathetic girl. 

Yet regret hadn’t flickered in your chest once. 

“Bird.” Manifested Crash’s voice from what seemed like out of nowhere. Though, this time it didn’t startle you. 

You made no move to take the bag of what was now lukewarm water off your face. There was a telltale click of a lighter, soon followed by the aroma of Camels curling at your nose. The pressure in your head eased slightly with him close, albeit unwillingly.

“Thought you were out with Ginger.” You grumbled. As much as you didn’t mind Crash, you didn’t need any pestering or trouble nipping at your tail with his presence. 

“Plans fell through.” Was all he offered as he lingered near your side, staring out into the wasteland in which you called home as if trying to understand the reason why you were curled away in the heat like some mangey dog licking at its wounds. 

Letting go of the bag with a sad plop onto the dust-beaten ground, you turned toward him with a hand extended for his cigarette. If he was shocked by the gnarly shiner taking up a generous amount of real estate on your face he didn’t show it.

In fact, he took an elongated moment to soak in the grisly sight before speaking, 

“Who did this.” 

He asked it so calmly that surprise prickled beneath your skin, but you went ahead and answered before taking a hit, 

“Walker.” 

Crash continued to stare. His cold eyes unreadable, prompting you to continue, 

“He wanted to get frisky so to speak and I told him no.”

Silence. 

“He didn’t like that. As you can tell.” You handed him back the cigarette, feeling like he may need it more than you now as you saw his fingers subtly twitch by his side, a minuscule action if anything.

Which meant nothing. 

You don’t know why you felt so emboldened during the incident with Walker. Normally you’d just grimace and bear it. Keep people satisfied and continue to keep your head down in the process so as to not draw any more unwanted attention toward you than need be.

You were sick of it. Of all of them. 

Fucking sick. 

Ginger will probably have your head once he catches wind of it but you couldn’t care. Denying that son of a bitch felt good despite what it cost you. 

You felt alive. 

Crash shifted his gaze away from you and back out to the landscape (if you could even call it that). His chest seemed to move in a more restricted capacity than before but you refused to make a true note of it. After one last exhale, his cigarette is tossed and crushed into the earth with the tip of a weathered boot. 

“Get more ice.” Was all he said before stalking off. A response you weren’t quite expecting but what could be expected from someone like Crash. 

You wouldn’t get ice right then and there. Not until the sun had well been set, but once you meandered back into the clubhouse the sight of Walker laid out on the floor looking beaten to hell and back (possibly even dead) with a few other Crusaders fussing around him you stopped dead in your tracks. Ginger looked pissed beyond belief. Crash was oddly nowhere to be found. 

Which meant nothing. 

[henrysglock]

"El is a manifestation of Will, and she's going to die in st5 because of it." Lets put the breaks on this misogyny train, baby. Let me get this right.

Local girl has an arc about gaining her independence from men, finding out who she is as a woman outside of the wants and needs of the men in her life, and securing her freedom from the men who have controlled her her entire life. Her arc is about learning that she doesn't have to die for men/for their love/her worth as a person, learning that she isn't just the superhero, that she's so much more than that as a person...and we're saying she is the projection of a man and is going to sacrifice her life for a group of men?

Tell me we see how that sounds bad, right?

Also, El's femininity isn't something she's "free" to express unless she's with other women. In ST1 her femininity was a disguise Mike put on her to make her seem more "normal". El plays up her femininity around Mike later on, and it becomes clear that Mike wants El less the more feminine she becomes. He begins to pull away. El's femininity is celebrated by Max, and unless we want to discuss her being a projection of Mike (hello reducing another woman to a projection of a man)...El as projection of Will doesn't bode well for byler and Mike's acceptance of Will's feminine characteristics.

Additionally, El was bullied more than Will in Lenora because she wasn't socialized like Will was. Will can camouflage because he's had a life outside the lab. El is bullied because she doesn't have the socialization to even start camouflaging. Will wasn't bullied because he has the skills to fade into the background now that his history in Hawkins isn't plaguing him. El's history shapes her behavior in ways she cannot hide. That is why she is bullied in Lenora when Will is not.

On top of that, El doesn't "stand up for herself". She has anger issues. She initially rolled over in class when she was being picked on, she initially tried to suck up to Angela at Rink-O-Mania, and it wasn't until she was pushed to violence that she lashed out once the situation was already over. El lashed out at Lucas when she was afraid and overwhelmed. She lashed out in anger and distress when Hopper punished her. El doesn't "stand up for herself", she lashes out with violence because of Brenner's expectations in the lab, her lack of coping mechanisms due to that childhood setting, and the ways that setting is incongruous with society at large. Again, she wasn't socialized. El's anger and violent behaviors are a trauma response and an unhealthy coping mechanism. It's not a desirable girlboss trait that Will would want to see in himself. Will was horrified by El's behavior at Rink O Mania. El is wracked with shame and embarrassment about her behavior. Mike picked on El for her behavior as soon as he felt the people involved didn't "deserve" it (re: Troy). What would that say for byler re: Mike supporting Will standing up for himself?

anyway that's my piece on that for the moment. happy hunting.

[1yyyyyy1]

I only look at two accounts on twitter daily and yours is one of them, I like hearing about what you have to say even if it's just me clicking the translate button so that I can read your words...I do miss you on this blog but I understand wanting to grow past your old content :) you're the reason why I got into LOA and I've been manifesting small things although I'm going for something very big now. You were there when I was researching separatism and now I've run out of characters but I wish y

Thank you :) That is a very nice thing to say... Truthfully, I haven't moved away from my blog at all, I am just still in the process of figuring out and articulating more things on the topics of LOA and metaphysics. I still believe that there is only so much you can say about misogyny and separatism before you fully know where you stand on women and men and stop being gaslit by your own mind, and, having reached that stage, I want to focus on what you can do afterwards i.e. improving your mindset overall. I made my blog with the goal of finding a way to exit the mental prison people have put me in and live independently from the heterosexual institution, and since LOA has been the solution for me, I struggle to discuss the alternatives because I don't have much experience with it.

Personally, I think that there is enough content on my blog for it to be decently used as an archive with the number of posts it currently has, even if I will be coming back with more posts at a later date.

[jon-snows-man-bun]

By Turns

Chapter Two

Masterlist

The closer Eris gets to his goals the harder he has to work to keep all plates spinning. Tensions simmer underneath his new alliances, pulling him into the Hewn City where the impact of Rhysand’s rule shapes the future.

Pairing: Eris Vanserra x OC. Other pairings to be added.

Other featured characters: Elain Archeron, Lucien Vanserra, Azriel. Variable POV

Rating: E for Explicit. Minors DNI.

Warnings: misogyny, violence, torture and domestic abuse both on and off screen, sex, sexual violence, dubious consent, drug use, character death, no reliable narrators to be found. Further warnings to be added.

Find this fic on AO3

A/N: Aisling's dress (5 of 6).

———————

Aisling was sixty seven years old and had never seen the sun. The day dawned grey, as it always did; she knew no different.

She settled herself into the rhythms of her day: breakfast with her mother that the servants had prepared, reading or sewing or taking a stroll with a friend in the morning, reviewing information from the diamond mine in the afternoon.

Diamonds were the principal export of the City, and her family was fortunate enough to have a majority share in one of the largest of the four mines. They were wealthy because of it, and Aisling always thought this gave her more freedom than other females were granted. She was cautious not to take advantage of this, knowing full well what happened to females when goodwill ran out.

Without a male relative and with wives forbidden from inheriting property, the share had passed - unexpectedly - to her when her father died. Between this and the strength of her magic, Aisling could keep herself well insulated from the worst of the City beasts. She knew this could not last forever; the Hewn City was a closed cage, and in their boredom and fury at being trapped, no occupant was left undisturbed.

Her father had gone Under the Mountain - not her mountain, the other one - when she was eleven and died there when she was forty. She hadn’t seen him in the intervening twenty nine years, but her mother had told her dispassionately and Aisling had been savvy enough not to ask for details.

They never received a body, either. Her father had simply left and never returned. His corpse could have been burned or buried in an unmarked grave or flung into the sea, or perhaps there wasn’t a body left at all and the High Lord had nightmisted him and his body was now air. Aisling didn’t know, but they had his urn sealed in the family crypt as if he had been brought home. She visited him occasionally though she never knew what to say to him. I’m sorry, I loved you, you were nothing to me, who were you? Where did you go?

He had disciplined her no more than any other court father in the Hewn City, but she had been a well-behaved only child. Her only major transgression occurred when her power manifested in a sudden, sickening rush in her tenth year, but he never struck her for that. He often did not seem to know what to do with her, leaving her to her sewing and reading and dancing while he served in Lord Keir’s legion. He probably would have preferred her if she were male; daughters received far fewer privileges than sons in the City and wives even less.

He had died without arranging a marriage for her, something she had resented when she was younger but thanked his spirit for whenever she saw her peers tugging their sleeves down or cloistered away for days on end. Her mother had no interest in marrying her off, chiefly because that meant she herself would then need to re-marry, and hundreds of years beside a Night Court soldier had soured her to the prospect.

She had skated by for sixty seven years, learning to play act and fade from view, binding her mask to her face so tightly she sometimes couldn’t remember what she truly felt at night, alone in her bedroom. In some ways it was easier: if she actually felt nothing she wouldn’t need to pretend, so purging her emotions as ruthlessly as possible protected her by keeping her from slipping up. In this way she kept herself from being memorable, from attracting attention.

Lord Keir knew who she was, though, and what she could do; after all, it was him who summoned her father and herself to his home that horrible night when she was ten. He hadn’t forgotten her. Aisling doubted he would.

She had to come up with a plan to get out of the City. It was her home, it was all she knew, but she wanted to know more. Anger was the wage of every occupant of the City - who didn’t want to leave? Who didn’t resent being trapped here? - but hers was tinged with desperation.

Lord or lowborn, high fae or lesser, they all wanted more, and the anger and fear went around like Xian whispers.

Everyone was still talking about Eoin by the time of the celebratory dinner. It had been frightening, the way the Illyrian had grabbed him as if he was nothing, as if he was an animal. As Eoin struggled against him, darkness gathered around them like someone had flung a shawl over them, and then they were gone. In the morning, only the Illyrian had emerged. Eoin was simply vanished.

Like her father, Aisling supposed. The High Lord had addressed them all in a cold, vicious voice from his throne, telling them what fate awaited them if he heard any more threats against him or his family. Had Eoin threatened them? Aisling had heard a parcel of rumours, multiple versions of the story - only Eoin knew the truth, but they would never see him again.

The Darkbringer officers had been speaking in tense knots all through the reception, and Aisling could feel the energy in the room crackling around like lightning. She had been invited due to her father’s - now hers - majority share in one of the main diamond mines, and she now sorely regretted attending though she did her best to play her part. She smiled and made polite conversation with the steward’s wife, Lady Niamh.

And then Eris Vanserra was sat near her.

Her eyes were drawn to his hair like a magnet. No one had red hair in the Hewn City, and though Aisling had seen him from a distance in the throne room a handful of times, she had never been so close to him. Never close enough to see the high cheekbones, the aristocratic nose, the absolute vibrancy of him. He was pale enough to be from the City, but there was something about him, something fierce and hot and alive in a way they were not. His magic, maybe, so unlike anything in her home; or maybe it was just him, just that he was flame made flesh. Aisling felt very strongly that if she touched a single one of his elegant, long fingers she would be scalded and bear a scar.

They all said he would succeed his father and it was obvious why. He was power, and was radiant with it.

Lest she be caught, she kept her attention carefully away from him. She told herself she could look twice more if she did not err in conversation or make a misstep. But the harder she tried not to look, the more she felt conscious of herself, her face, the way she smiled; she felt edgy and nervous. She could hear his voice, the lilting drawl of it, smoky and rich. His scent - cedar, woodsmoke, something crisp and wild and fresh - was so enticing to her that she could no longer resist. Just once, Aisling told herself. Look at him once then never again. Lord Keir is right there and watching.

She swept her eyes along the table, and as if he were a magnet, her eyes met his. All at once she was hot all over, her stomach dropping to the floor. His amber eyes saw straight through her… and he sneered.

Aisling kept herself still and did not react only through practice. Embarrassment snapped at her, but she lowered her eyes demurely back to her wine and did not glance his way again. She supposed she wasn’t surprised; most lovely things in Night were terribly vicious. Beauty and cruelty were hardly exclusive of each other.

That night, she dreamt of a warmth she had never felt under a sun she had never seen.

———————

Eris didn’t return to the Hewn City for a month. In that time he fucked two raven-haired females, mounting them both from behind. He didn’t wish to see their eyes, their faces; they obliged him. Like most of his partners, he kept things impersonal, dismissing them as soon as they were finished. He had learned well from his brother’s mistakes.

He was kept busy in Autumn towns Beron had neglected over the centuries, telling his father he was shoring up loyalty and looking after the coffers in the fallout from Koschei and Briallyn; in reality, he was quietly looking after the populace. With Beron still living he couldn’t make the large changes he desired, but he could put his finger on the scale now and again.

Unfortunately it was never enough, and there would be more misery and death before he managed to kill Beron. Eris had accepted this reality long ago, but it still cut him afresh every time. His people deserved far better.

But he could further buy loyalty among the courtiers by increasing the supply of diamonds in Autumn, Eris thought witheringly as he winnowed to the Hewn City. Orphans were starving but as long as their mistresses had diamond necklaces, all was as it should be. It had its role, of course; he couldn’t ensure a smooth transition with a court that was too fractured, but he didn’t have to like it. He liked very little to do with Night, in truth.

Keir was meeting him with several other invested courtiers to further discuss the trade agreement. No Thanatos this time; nothing to do with the Darkbringers. All the better given that Rhysand had executed one last month. Eris imagined that was a wound that would not be easily healed, but didn’t bring it up.

In the chamber, diamonds were spilled over the table casually, spread out like marbles children would play with. Their lustre and crisp clarity was unique to the Hewn City mines, and he had never seen so many in one place. They were highly valued outside of Night but there were precious few merchants and dealers allowed to trade with other Courts - the High Lords kept the leash on the Hewn City chokingly tight.

The wealth heaped on that table was staggering. No wonder Rhysand kept Feyre slathered in elaborate diamond dresses and crowns.

The assembled courtiers around the table were all male, all pale and stone-faced like they were carved from rock themselves. That sort of mask was beaten into them from birth, he knew well enough. But at the end of the carved onyx table, furthest from him and Keir, sat the blue-eyed female from the dinner. Here she wore a violet and black dress, cut enticingly away in diamonds around the waist that showed her pale skin. While the neckline of the dress dipped low enough for him to admire the gentle swell of her cleavage, she wore a diamond necklace that hid the best of the view from him. Her bare arms were cuffed with more diamonds, and if there were sunlight, she would have glittered like an exotic butterfly.

Instead, she was merely a vehicle to further display their obscene hoard of diamonds. Keir waved a hand and introduced the courtiers, naming her last.

“Lady Aisling,” Keir said dismissively, giving no further justification to her presence. Aisling dipped her gaze demurely, and Eris willed her to look up, to let him look in her eyes once more. He waited as long as he dared in a crowded room, then took his seat and began to negotiate.

Aisling didn’t say a word the entire time. He didn’t expect her to, given what the Hewn City valued in its females, and he wondered why her presence was necessary at all. She seemed to be actually reading the documents, though; and she paid keen attention to whoever was speaking. Perhaps she had a brain in her skull instead of more diamonds rattling around, he thought dismissively; a shame the Hewn City ground females into dust instead of letting them show an ounce of will and intelligence.

If she had to wear a mask, far be it from him to out her, though he sparked with curiosity to know. His answer to the mystery of her presence came when they reached an agreement as to a fixed volume to be exported and her signature was required - she held a large percentage of the mine.

Wealthy, then. And no husband, or else he would be here in her stead speaking for her, and she would be tied to his bed frame. He wondered what opinion on the agreement she actually held, muted as she was.

As Keir led the courtiers out, business concluded for the day, Eris found himself unable to resist. Her necklace was elaborate, a crescent moon tipped on its side with an open eye in the middle, worked in diamonds - predictably - and onyx.

“Your necklace,” he said.

Aisling turned to gaze at him, her face ethereal in the dim fae light. She glanced towards the door once, at the retreating backs of the courtiers; he understood well enough that he had perhaps moments to speak with her. No more than a minute, but that was all he needed.

Males would drown in those eyes, he mused as she looked back at him. As unknowable as the ocean. Her polite smile didn’t change, but he had the sense she was studying him, making sense of his pieces. The diamond eye around her neck, balanced in the tines of the crescent moon, glittered at him darkly.

“What does it mean?” He asked, his voice low.

“My family’s sigil. For our gift - for the eye in here, my lord,” she explained, and she touched his brow with one finger so lightly Eris could have imagined it. Her wrist brought her scent to him, dark and floral in equal measures. His blood sang as soon as he caught it, magic humming under his ribs, in his lungs. His mouth watered.

He couldn’t help himself. It was almost instinct that made him take her wrist, circling it lightly with his forefinger and thumb. Her wrist was so slim, the bones so fine, he knew he could grind them to dust if he wanted; her wary dark eyes swallowed him up and knew it too. He held those sapphire eyes as he brushed his lips against her palm and was rewarded by her pulse suddenly racing under his thumb.

The scent of her… he breathed in once more, deeply, unable to pull away. Her face didn’t change but her eyes were liquid, darting between his and his mouth, and he could feel her pulse racing like a little rabbit in his snare.

“My lord,” she whispered, and the spell was broken. He released her, but she didn’t move for a long moment, hand fluttering down to her side, holding his gaze. He couldn’t read whatever was in her eyes, but she finally dipped her head, curtsying to him, and she fled in a swirl of violet silk. His last sight of her was the raven feather comb in her hair, her slim, pale arms glittering. Her scent left with her, and whatever had been building in him deflated as it did. After that, he couldn’t leave the Hewn City soon enough.

[icanseethefuture333]

Can I ask you to do a little reading on Chris evans and Ana de armas bond? How they saw each other in the beginning when they first worked together in knives out and how they see each other now, what’s their bond like, what do they think of their current correspondent partners. Thank you angel !

Chris Evan's first impression of Ana De Armas:

For Chris' first impressions of Ana, he could of saw her as the embodiment of Taurus characteristics: Serene, down to earth, and tenacious. Very feminine and poised. It could of been obvious to him as well she was a foreigner and that peaked his interest? Chris wanted to learn more about her culture and what her traditions were. "You're breaking my heart here." I believe he sees her beauty and charm as something that would potentially hurt him. Or, this could mean he asked her out and she rejected him.

Channeled song:

Don't Go Breaking My Heart by Elton John & Kiki Dee

Ana De Armas' first impression of Chris Evans:

"He is always surrounded by beautiful and luxurious women". Ana could see Chris as someone who is a playboy - Wealthy, flirtatious, and attractive. (NSFW) She could of heard things about his sex life or was curious about it 😭? She is sexually attracted to him. Ana finds Chris to be very funny as well. She finds his optimism, good sense of humor, and sunny disposition cute, charming, and infectious. She also finds him to be childish.

Current thoughts of each other:

Left is Chris. Center is their shared thoughts. Right is Ana.

So obviously... there is romantic tension between them. Chris has been trying for a while now for this relationship to happen, but Ana is just not interested. She is a wish fulfillment for him, is he manifesting her? Seems so. Ana is more focused on her career and accomplishing her goals. She sees Chris as someone who's popular and successful, but she is unsure if this is the energy she wants to be around long term. "I don't want people to say I am famous because of him, I wish to make my own success, I will not let a man take that away from me." Good for Ana, honestly 😳. Xenophobia and misogyny in the entertainment industry are also the major factors as to why she's rejecting Chris. Ana doesn't want to be accused of "sleeping her way to the top", she feels that will continue a harmful stereotypes/beliefs about hispanic/latina women. This is something Chris is not understanding and acting naive to because of his privileges. He is just focusing more on the fact he wants to be with her vs the concerns she has. "If we're happy then who cares what other people think?"

Their opinions about each other's partners:

Left is Chris. Center is their shared thoughts. Right is Ana.

"You chose him over me?!" Chris is jealous of Ana's partner. He is very opinionated about their relationship honestly, so I will just leave it at that 💀. He feels her partner is in the way.

Something sneaky is afoot... I'm getting a vision of a phone, they could be send each other like late night texts? There is a sense of not wanting to get caught. I'm getting Chris is the one overall who is reaching out to her and Ana is not having it. She doesn't wish to reveal her feelings to him. Ana doesn't like the idea of being vulnerable. There goes that Taurus energy lol. She is very stubborn. "Why would I care about his partner? I have a job to do". Ana is too busy focusing on her bag then worrying about what that man does. This could also mean she's using work as a way to avoid reality.

Channeled songs:

Creep by TLC

On The Hotline by Pretty Ricky

The Other Woman by Lana Del Rey

She Works Hard For The Money by Donna Summer