#my inbox is your place

[the-jam-to-the-unicorn]

An attempt to express my thoughts about today.

(under the cut because it's long)

Well, I'm still speechless. I keep thinking about what word best describes how I feel after this fiasco (and that may be the understatement of the century), but I'm not sure that there is a suitable word for it. Which even begins to describe what I feel. Anger, even rage, disgust, humiliation, ... none of them feel like they even begin to describe what this feels like.

Today is one of the darkest, most shameful, most pathetic and most disgraceful days in American history. And somehow in the world, too. The sad thing is that, considering current developments and today, it cannot be ruled out that even darker days may follow. NEVER before have the walls of the White House been defiled with such audacity and impudence as they were today - and these walls have seen and experienced a lot. And I'm not talking about, like Trump says, Ze's actions. But about what Trump, Vance and their minions did today. A democratically elected leader of a country is sitting there, a country that has been courageously trying to defend itself and survive in a genocidal war of aggression for years. And he has to put up with insults and being shouted at, with humiliation and degradation, is showered with propaganda and then thrown out on the street like a dog. A man who has been going through hell in both his work and private life for three years and every day, who is traumatised beyond belief and has basically given up his whole life and everything and makes sacrifices every day. A man who sacrifices himself for his country to the very last bit of himself. And does all this not out of greed or a craving for recognition or because he wants to go down in history as the greatest, but because he is a man of honesty and integrity, of morality and humanity, of characer and deceny and because he deeply believes in what he stands for and fights for. He believes in his country and its people. He believes in democracy, freedom, sovereignty, peace.

And then there is Trump, who could hardly be a more despicable and odious person. And he has the audacity to treat Ze like that. They deliberately let him walk into a trap and then, in front of the entire world, they tried to take him down like the worst kind of schoolyard bully. And they did it in a language that he, mind you, doesn't even speak perfectly.

If I were Ze, I wouldn't have had even 10% of the patience and composure that he showed in that situation. I would be dead right now because the Secret Service would have shot me for punching those two assholes.

Ze responded to the absolutely insane, completely unjustified, shameful and deliberately destructive attack with admirable restraint. He tried to explain, he remained human, he tried to focus on the matter at hand, to stick to the topic. He is the strongest person in the world for having endured this whole shit show with absolutely unique self-control, without punching them.

Ze travelled to Washington, into the lion's den, with honest intentions and a firm interest and desire for cooperation, partnership, future and peace. Not Ze betrayed Ukraine today. Not even in the slightest. Today, Ukraine was betrayed by America, definitively and somehow unsurprisingly.

And it was right that Ze did not just sit there silently, nodding and smiling obediently. Ze is not a small child who has misbehaved and is now being scolded in front of the adults and has to accept it.

He remained steadfast and firm. As he should be. He did not back down. He did not allow them to intimidate him. He did not allow them to bully him. And by doing all of this, he did not allow them to bully Ukraine either. He stood his ground like he always stood his ground - on the day, when they told him to flee and form an exile government. During every hard moment in the past three years. And now. And he showed very clearly that he will NEVER allow Russia or the US or anyone that he gets pressured into surrendering Ukraine or giving up on his country or betraying it.

As much as I understand the fear that is now in the air and the big question of ‘what will happen next?’ - both of which I also feel. Of course I am now just as concerned and anxious as everyone else about whether we have seen the end of Ukraine today. But I REFUSE to give up hope. I refuse to give Putin and Trump and Vance and Elon the satisfaction of simply giving up and having no hope. Ukraine has surprised the world so often and turned seemingly hopeless situations in its favour. What they need more than ever is the whole world standing behind them and supporting them and not giving up hope.

Ze's reaction was absolutely right and if there is one person here who cannot be accused of ANY wrongdoing - neither today nor in the last few weeks and since Trump took office - it is Ze. He deserves all the respect in the world for fighting back and not surrendering. Trump and his assholes were NEVER interested in doing anything for or in the interests of Ukraine. That was a tender shoot of hope and a beautiful pipe dream, but far too many people have forgotten what kind of person Trump is. And what he has already done in the past. He withheld important support. He constantly spoke badly about Ukraine. He considers Putin a genius and has the best relations with him. We KNOW that Russia has bought him and that Trump is a Russian agent and that he has so many dead bodies in his cellar that you could fill entire cemeteries with them.

In summary, let me say: the day will go down in history. Just very differently than it should have been.

Today could have been a historic day, with the US taking a new powerful position in world history, standing up to Russia and creating a unique peace that would benefit Europe and the whole world for decades to come.

Instead, it has become one of the darkest days and chapters in American history.

A US president, a US vice president and their team have unjustifiably and in an unprecedented, shameful and disgraceful manner attacked the democratic leader of a country at war in front of the assembled world press and sided with a terrorist state and a dictator.

The world must support Ukraine. Ukraine MUST win. Ukraine must achieve a JUST peace, including ALL its territories. Otherwise, what we have seen today will merely be a harbinger of what is to come for us all in the future.

[laddertek]

etho said actually you _don't_ understand the intricacies of how tango is my boyfriend and bdubs is my ex

(and how tango and bdubs kiss too)

Scar: We went on that little adventure, you know! Etho: Yeah, yeah, we had our adventure, that's true, that's true. Scar: You disparaged your teammates. That's it, all right, no more spoilers. Etho: (laughs) Our team has -- our team has some weird dynamics this -- this season. Cleo: (overlapping) Really, Etho? Is there trouble in paradise? (pause) Who's third-wheeling with you, again? I can't remember. Etho: (laughs) Uhh. The -- Cleo: Genuinely can't remember. I know it's you and Bdubs. And...Tango? Tango. Tango. Etho: (loudly) Why -- Why is Tango the third wheel? Why -- why isn't Bdubs the third wheel? Cleo: Because it's you and Bdubs. I'm sorry. I understand how that relationship goes. Etho: (dissatisfied) Hmm.

[wishchip106]

imagine if Charles died on that beach because he didn’t receive medical attention in time and Erik Raven only find out a few months later

Erik finally brought up the courage to go visit Charles again after they split up but when he breaks into Charles’ room he isn’t there

he searches the whole mansion looking for Charles, even calling out to him telepathically but to no avail

that is until he saw the grave stone sitting in garden

Erik never returned to the brotherhood after that night and Raven had to find out after tracking him down in Austria

[galadrieljones]

You restricted replies, but I’d still like to point out varrics ass was dead (killed by solas, OOP) when he said the flower thing.

I'd thank you for the spoiler, as I haven't finished the game yet, but seeing as I am smarter than you, and I have read many books, and I have seen The Sixth Sense, and I have written countless words of fiction in my little adult life, I was able to figure that out for myself. Granted, I wasn't entirely sure, but now, I guess I am! So fuck you!

For the record: You have sent me an "anonymous" message on tumblr including an egregious spoiler based on a post that was clearly tagged "solavellan" and is written in good nature through the solavellan lens, and while you may think it's some sort of "gotcha!", all this has done is communicate to me and others that you, whoever you are, are a mean-spirited person.

Further, and because I'm literally incorrigible, if anything, the fact that Varric says this in an illusion crafted by Solas, is even more telling of Solas's desperate desire for human connection, and that he wishes for others to see his true heart, which he is too prideful to show himself, and which he has broken, all on his own, over and over again, including but not exclusive to the horrible injustice he imparted on Varric, in desperate pursuit of belonging, to fix his mistakes, and through the horrors of his own making. Solas crafts such an illusion because he needs Rook. He needs her to stop, not just his enemies, but also HIM. He said it to Lavellan in Trespasser. He walks the dinan'shiral. He expects to die. All this is exactly what I said in my post, which you would know, if you had bothered to engage in good faith.

If any of this bothers you, then please know that, from the depths of my heart, I do not give a shit. I have never once engaged with an anti-solas post or account, and I am not an aggressive fan or an anti or hostile in any way. I am here because I actually love Solas and his character. So remember that you came here, not the other way around, and therefore, please feel free to fuck off, and do not come back!

[hawnks]

Logging out for a while, love you miss you <3

[ghostiezone]

"....Ashe?"

"Who's that?"

short-ish fic under the cut because I had to be in the tranches about this :)

The Wards received the invitation only an hour before they arrived.

i know where to find your friend :)

The crumpled piece of paper looked like it had been drawn in crayon. It was stapled to the front door of their home. Their civilian home.

"Aux-" Failsafe started immediately, but Imprint's hand over his mouth cut off the name before he could finish. The boy wasn't in costume.

Imprint addressed him instead, cautious. "Ashe...?" He lowered his gloved hand from Failsafe's face and stepped forward between his two teammates, slowly, like he was approaching a cornered animal.

Wraith had been a stoic, silent presence since they entered the room, but Failsafe could feel the tension rolling off of him in waves.

The boy sitting on the edge of the desk looked.... young. Younger than he should. The shirt he had been put in was too big for him. Not in the same way his dad's jacket was too big for him- he used that like a turtle shell, something to retreat into, pull over himself like a shield. It was safe, warm, all-encompassing. Despite the issues they knew Ashe and his father had with each other, the love was still there. No, these clothes... they hung loose on his already skinny frame, making him look exposed. Vulnerable. They were monochrome, pale in a way that made him look washed-out, almost ghostly. He sat with his legs crossed, hands holding his ankles. He wasn't wearing shoes. One of the sleeves threatened to slip off his shoulder.

He tilted his head as they entered the room. The movement made Failsafe think of the stray puppies he used to feed in the alley behind their house.

His hair had been washed recently.

Something was very wrong here.

Ashe's face was devoid of all emotion. Though he was looking at the three of them, making eye contact, something seemed... distant. Failsafe reached out with his power and found... nothing.

He felt his heart seize in his chest. He frantically grabbed Imprint's hand before he could take another step forward, and tore his gaze away from Ashe to lock eyes with Wraith He hissed under his breath, he didn't trust his voice not to shake "guys, hes-"

"Breaker state, yeah. I know." Wraith finally broke his silence, voice stony and cold. "Don't get any closer to him."

At the sound of Wraith's voice, Ashe's eyes locked onto him. They were burning with an orange glow.

His head bent further to one side, and his face split into a wide grin that looked almost painful. Failsafe felt Imprint tense, fingers twitching like he was getting ready to reach for a weapon. He squeezed the wrist he was already holding. "Don't. We can't. That's still Ashe."

In that brief moment of distraction, the boy on the desk began to laugh. It was a broken sound, distorted, not like anything they had heard from him before. That deep orange glow in his eyes shone even through his closed eyelids. Wraith's cape billowed as he stepped in front of the other two, barking a clipped "Incoming!" as the space behind the desk began to distort.

Wraith's own warping powers sprang up in response, a translucent blue barrier forming in the air between the wards and their friend. As they watched, unsure of how to act, a rectangular shape began to appear in the air behind where Ashe was sitting, growing clearer and sharper as it eventually formed a sort of doorway. It was hard to look at directly, the light in the room seeming to bend toward the corners. The walls and floor buldged and sank in response to the tear in reality. The door itself was more like a window- a vague, distorted cityscape slowly coming into focus on the other side. The barrier began to ripple, as if it was made of water, as a figure stepped through it into the room.

Ashe's laughing was suddenly doubled as it became clear that whoever had just entered was cackling as well. It was an eerie echo- they were taking the same pauses for breath and short hiccups between giggles. Their shoulders bounced in matching tempo and their heads tilted back toward the ceiling at the exact same time.

The new figure was dressed in a long purple-grey patchwork coat, sleeves torn off and bottom hem ripped to shreds. He wore a darker purple scarf up to his chin, which flared out behind him into a tattered cape. The coat was sinched at the waist with a faded green belt, the end of which swung loose around his legs to give the appearance of a long tail. He wore some sort of blood-red bodysuit which concealed every bit of skin that would otherwise be showing. His darkened silver hair flared out around his head in wild spikes. Over his face, a circular mask concealed any distinguishing features. The mask may have been white once, but was now more of a tarnished brown. Two horns curled upward on either side of the face, which consisted of a cudely painted-on cartoonish black smile with squinted eyes.

"Why, if it isn't the Wards of New Haven!" The figure exclaimed, suddenly dropping into a deep bow. "You can call me the Trickster. Oh, I've been waiting so long to meet you!" There was a sort of childlike excitement in his voice, but there was a strain to it as well, as if holding back the laughter was causing him mental pain.

He turned his head toward Ashe, who was sitting motionless again on the desk. The figure cleared his throat, then in a harsh voice, snapped "You'd best show some respect in the face of such powerful heroes!"

As if dragged down by force, Ashe bent forward, nearly losing his balance and falling face first off of his perch. When he sat back again, his deadpan expression broke into a wide grin again. The smile didn't reach his eyes.

"What are you doing to him?!" Failsafe snapped, voice cracking with the panic of seeing his friend so vulnerable.

"Who, me?" The villain straightened back up, bouncing on his toes as he did. He flung a hand up to his chest in an overdramatic show of offense... and Ashe's hand made the same motion. In a cheap imitation of Ashe's voice, the Trickster echoed "I wouldn't hurt a fly!" As he did, Ashe muttered the same words.

"He's some sort of Master." Imprint's eyes were locked onto the figure, tracing his every move. The subtle shift in his posture put the image of a panther in Failsafe's mind. His next words were directed at the villain. "What do you want with Ashe?"

"Better yet, what do you want with us?" Wraith added. The strain of holding up a constant shield for this long was starting to take its toll on him, hands starting to shake. Even though the Trickster wasn't outright attacking them, knowing he was a Master with this kind of power was enough to keep them all on edge. They didnt know his limitations yet. "You were the one that sent us the note, right? Why bring us here just to stand there and laugh at us?"

The villain started cackling again, bending at the waist with the sheer force of his laughter. "Ashe?!" He straightened back up, mimed wiping a tear from the corner of the eye of the mask. "Who's that? Never heard of them!" As he stood up to his full height, he ran a hand gingerly through Ashe's hair. The boy didn't move, didn't react, despite Failsafe's immediate short burst of anger at the action. The Trickster clicked his tongue, continued to run his hands through Ashe's silvery-purple hair. As his hands moved, a glow began to spread from them. The same orange glow emanating from Ashe's eyes was surrounding the Trickster's fingertips. As he waggled the fingers on his free hand, little orange strings no thicker than spider silk extended upwards from them, seeming to disappear into thin air. The strings reappeared, wound around Ashe's arms. There was a loop around his neck as well, giving the sickening illusion of a collar.

"I just wanted to introduce the three of you to my Muse." He put an odd emphasis on that final word.

It was a name.

"And, to let you know he's mine now, and you can't have him back!" The static smile on the mask somehow looked devilish. It was such a childish statement, as if they were fighting over a toy on the playground, but it sent chills down all three of the heroes' spines. "Finders keepers, he came to me first! That means I get dibs." His voice dropped an octave on that last sentence, suddenly becoming threatening and deadpan. "Try to take him from me if you can. It'll be fun."

Suddenly, he spun on his heel, facing the doorway he came from. The rippling effect was starting to get more pronounced, more unpredictable. "Ah! But it seems like playtime's over for now. We'll see you soon, Wards."

Before he stepped back through the door, the strings around Ashe's limbs tightened, and he was dragged by some nearly-invisible force toward the doorway. He moved stiffly, as if the puppetmaster hadn't gotten used to moving him yet, but eventually he was pulled through the fading doorway.

The Trickster gave them one last mock solute before ducking through as well. The lingering echo of laughter hung in the room around them.

And Ashe- Muse- was gone with him.

[castielsprostate]

like. it’s lovely that you’re enjoying the deadpool/wolverine shipping. but it’s still a marvel movie. i thought we were supposed to be boycotting marvel bc they have an israeli character?

hm. i already spoke about this but im just gonna be honest. you cannot deprive yourself of every. single. fucking. thing. and i am so fucking tired of policing people that are already doing shit for enjoying a single thing that isn't even involved with it.

i dont really talk a lot about what i do, because i dont think i have to justify how i live my life (something about good people dont have to brag about how good they are), but im already boycotting mcdonalds, im already boycotting starbucks, sodastream, burger king, phillips, airb&b, as much of nestle as possible, and every other company i can reasonably boycott. im donating to fundraisers and pleas for help. i donate to the pcrf. i donate to demining ukraine. i donate to greenpeace and a national cancer fund. i go to protests and demonstrations, i participate in community efforts, i share resources and fundraisers and verified information. im rallying for voters, i'm involved in my local community's green party. you dont see what i, or my friends, or other random internet users, are doing behind the scenes.

i am stretched fucking thin, my bank account is dwindling to keep up with everything. im going through insane health scares right now, chronic pain, anxiety so severe i want to fucking die, and a major chronic depressive episode to top it all off, i. am. exhausted.

you cannot deprive yourself of everything because when you do, there'll be nothing left of you. and who the fuck are you going to help then? the world is still happening, it's still turning despite the wars and genocides, despite the rising death toll of climate change, despite the threats to democracy. all we can do is put our effort where our mouth is, and take care of ourselves.

[xxplastic-cubexx]

woah opened ur blog for the daily xmen fandom newspaper and im seeing femboy discourse… crazy

anyway i love the idea of jealous erik and charles being an ambiguously oblivious menace about it but more specifically in a friendly way. as in, charles is ERIK’S best friend and it feels SPECIAL when charles is nice to him and he can’t control who charles is friendly with, but he sure can judge them menacingly for thinking they’re worthy of it (hypocrisy at its finest because he would be the first one to declare that no one is worthy of charles’ friendship <3)

erik can't control what charles does and who he talks to and frankly he doesnt want to HOWEVER. he is free to do what he wants and if that entails glaring from behind charles as he talks to someone he's allowed to do that .....

[fluffypotatey]

Thanks for enlightening me to what they did. [Macaque sacrificing himself to the Pagoda because “I get all the consequences and you get to mope!”] This is like him trying to make up for Wukong sacrificing himself to surrender to the Jade Emperor. The Pagoda may be no Five Phases Mountain, but at least Wukong can be the one to run away this time. I am NOT okay ;-; Could I 👉👈 cut off the rest of my nonsense and just resend the single piece of brainrot I've yet to see covered by you, reblogs, or another anon? because I understand my asks are too much at once lol. In trying to avoid burdening you with multiple tiny asks as each thought comes to me, I try to cover everything at once, but that has its own drawbacks. Sorry about that! You can ignore what I sent before since other anons/reblogs have basically mentioned those aspects already. This specific bit about everyone fighting for the title of most sacrificial butt had a lil more effort because I wanted to provide some entertainment for you :D

Wukong falls, his pained cries filling all six ears, and Macaque halts. The past, the present, the future. The visions brought by what he hears, all those whispered memories converge on that moment. Why him- why again-? He turns to call out his name and watches as MK races to Wukong's side, his monkey form flickering from some invisible connection that's strained and hurting, just like it did the first time you found him sitting by the cliff's edge, he's hurting too from this. You don't need to think about it. You're already in the way, the second you hear Li Jing say "this nonsense ends now." You're grabbing his arm and dispelling the spell. It's silent all around. There's a single ring of the bell from your angsty little soundtrack. AND THERE MACKY GOES, his eyes shadowed as he grits his teeth, "Xiaotian..." But his mind is already made up. Calm, focused, acceptance in between the gloom. "You go...and save the world." HE SAYS WHILE TURNING AROUND WITH HIS RED SCARF LOOKING LIKE A CAPE BILLOWING IN THE WIND. Wukong is stunned, "What? No! Macaque- No!" as he starts sinking into the shadows. He can only yell out once more before before everything disappears. What is WRONG WITH HIM. Wukong bodily tackling him from heaven to the earth wasn't enough. I need to crush him on the ocean floor. ~ oooh red is the color of heroes ~ ooh classy cape look and STUPID DRAMATIC LINE DROP YOU SAVE FOR THE END OF THE SEASON YOU LOSER MONKEY. he wants to be the knight in shining tattered cape sooooo bad/j and then pretends it's all for Mk and not also Wukong. Hey, do you think Macky knows how to use a washing machine?

*through tears* nah, i bet he doesn’t know what a washing machine is

WHY IS HE LIKE THIS T^T

[rootspiral]

I’m sure you’ve already done this but what do you imagine Agatha and rios first time meeting was like

I've talked about something similar here. But I like to think that their first meeting was very brief, and that Agatha was the one who started pursuing Rio, it took them a long time to fall in love because I love slow burns ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

[tonydaddingham]

headcanon: Crowley invented the famous cheese rolling event where someone chucks a wheel of Gloucester down a hill and everybody flings themselves after it and it results in multiple severe injuries.

COOPER'S HILL MY BELOVED 💕 (my father is from gloucestershire and the attending of/participating in the cooper's hill cheese roll is frankly a rite of westcountry passage. kinda. depends on if you count gloucs as westcountry)

now look, completely agree - and i could see crowley absolutely doing that to be a nuisance, as is his right. but for me? that's aziraphale choosing to celebrate whit monday with a boujee lil picnic. but alas! he accidentally dropped a heavy-ass round of double gloucester cheese (he rather overestimated how much he'd need and instead brought the whole cow) and it rolled off down the hill. now, of course, he'd never do anything so uncouth as to run/tumble after it himself, but some passing locals very gallantly leaped after it to return it to the nice, comely angel wringing his hands over his lost lunch. when the brave, brave warrior who managed to catch it first returned it to him, he instead gifted it as a token of his gratitude, and carried on his merry way. purely accidental that this should henceforth become a tradition/festival.

the fact that it has since resulted in multiple injuries is absolutely not his fault, of course, but crowley found out about it all a century or so later and laughed so much it nearly made him sick.

tar barrels, however? in ottery st mary? now that is one of crowley's:

[skeletoninthemelonland]

Oh poor B2, I can't imagine her going through multiple breakdowns in the beginning in her new body, that must be so exhausting :(

That made me think of is she has like sensory touch too? Like if she can feel the different textures of objects

If she has for a side I am glad, because she can feel hugs and nice touches :3 (even if I guess even the smallest of touch could've felt overwhelming for the first time, but got used to it in the end) but on the other hand gosh I am so sorry for her NDEHDBJSBS I don't want her to feel the horrible texture of COTTON

I hate cotton so much, especially cotton discs HAHAHA I am protecting B2 from cotton🤺🤺🤺🤺

She does!! This reminds me...

Fun fact: the dress Camille gifted her has a really nice synthetic, silky and smooth texture that she holds onto whenever she's nervous or angry.

If you take a look at her season 1 and 3 designs, you'll notice that the dress and the skirt are the same. That's because it teared down and got damaged during fights.

Hunter knew how much she liked that dress, so he payed someone to repair it as much as they could, making it more resistant without changing its properties.

[mellohiizz]

i was literally think abt that lol (wemmbu and parrot meeting up)

imagine before they met up, parrot already met up with the rest of his flock before hand and had like an emotional reunion

and he meets up with wemmbu and the both of them are like 'WHY AND HOW ARE YOU HERE???? I THOUGHT YOU WERE DEAD???' (since the rest of parrot's flock didn't know if parrot was alive and they haven't had any contact with wemmbu since all of them seperated)

i like to think that ken and wato already knew each other, from before ken was exiled they would meet up and have lunch or smth

and ken and wato would be like 'hiiii, how are you? how've you been?' while parrot and wemmbu are yelling at each other

and egg and wifies are in the background introducing themselves to each other

and when the yelling dies down and wemmbu takes note on everything, he says 'oh wow parrot, your partner (ken) knows my partner (wato), what a small world we live in, huh parrot :]'

lmao that's very silly. i like how all of them are kind of connected to each other in one way or another in this au, that would be a very interesting team.

[quietscrappy]

sorry if i alienate all my followers with my star wars posting, i have three brain rots that activate a full power every now and then but remaining rotating in my mind at all moments, Kingdom Hearts/FF, Star Wars and Lord of the Rings.

[ofbreathandflame-archive]

Personally, I dnt see Nesta abusing Feyre because of how vague their history in their past home was like. They seemed on v equal ground wit the way they argued and fought. Feyre calls Nesta a burden then Nesta retaliates. Nesta warns Feyre about the old hag and Feyre brings up their past fight from the other night. Nesta tries to save Feyre and Feyre realizes there is more to her sister than she thought.

They always were at odds with each other but their never seemed to be any serious power dynamic between them. Neither was afraid of the other and both saw themselves in the other. I honestly think they both have stuff to answer for from their days in the cottage.

In SF, the book even says that Feyre wasn’t perfect and that she made mistakes but their past doesn’t have to define their future. Again, we dnt know what those mistakes could have been since there is such vague exploration of their dynamic back then. But passages in the books like these make me see that it wasn’t abuse between them. It certainly wasn’t healthy but definetly not so one-sided as many antis make it out to be.

hi anon!!

my response is loooooong 😭

i do really want to talk about this. i think the set up in the cabin is very important to the foundation of the sisters' relationship, and because its left as this gaping hole that lacks nuance and logic, it muddles the characterization going forward. a court of silver flames runs into trouble for this reasons, hence why is said it employs the use of 'placeholder' plotlines. to start, as many have stated before me, the set-up in the cabin makes no sense. none. not even a little. that matters for a lot of reasons but specifically because we can't really argue the validity of any of the sister's actions when the worldbuilding around them has none to begin.

its very hard to apply a real system of continual power, abuse, and neglect, when the circumstances around such dynamic is vague and uncommitted. the story doesn't want to commit to the consequences, but it also doesn't want to establish a relationship between the sisters without placing feyre as the permanent victim. so - it created an absurd scenario that doesn't make any sense. what i am saying is - the story has to go wayyyy out of its way to make elain and nesta 'villains' - to the point that the plot can't even support it. like for example, the girls live together in the cabin without feyre hunting for about a good 3-4 years. that means: someone clothed them, someone fed them, someone cleaned, someone took care of them. someone picked up the slack and its wasn't feyre. we know that mama archeron dies when the girls are 8, 10, and 11 - and the shortly after that, they lose their wealth. so - the girls are maybe 11, 13, and 14. literal children. and again - someone had to be taking care of them, a dynamic existed before feyre went hunting, but somehow never gets brought up. if the story is committed to this story, why doesn't it highlight nesta/feyre/elain's relationship in the moments where feyre isn't hunting? what was their relationship like? what was feyre like? these are perfect moments to establish the relationship. even if the sisters were lazy - what would they be doing all day? how would they even sustain themselves on meat all year long? even if the sisters were evil sisters there's little motivation for them to even be like this. the sisters are only three years apart. literally. when feyre was 8, elain was 10, and nesta was 11. thats not a big enough age-gap to even sustain partially of what the story argues about why the sisters have a disconnect. nesta would have been a BABY when feyre and elain were born - where is the motivation? how do elain and nesta develop a faction when they would have been mere toddlers when feyre came into the picture???

either papa archeron isn't a deadbeat or some mysterious force clothed, bathed, fed, and took care of them. like even the circumstances behind papa archeron being a deadbeat make no sense??/

and then there's the added layer of the suppose abuse the grandmother and mother were doling out to nesta, elain, and feyre. nesta was physically abused, and feyre was neglected to hell and high water - there's a plot pont to exploit right there. if the story wants to commit to nesta being abusive, but also wants her to be sympathetic, validating where her anger comes from, while acknowledging how it negatively affected her relationships with her sisters would be the perfect way to go. playing into the mirror sacrifices these sisters (youngest and oldest) made towards one another would have been *chefs kiss*. but again - the story leaned way too moral to even attempt a conversation like this. its willing to forgive the tamlins, rhys's and cassians, but not the women in the story. the thing is - the story doesn't commit to real faults with feyre - and it doesn't do that with nesta or elain either. they are only a standard to compare feyre against. and that's why the story cannot commit to a basic conversation between the sisters - there's nothing that exists between the except the drama. nesta has to atone for mystery reasons bc the story has rewrote their dynamic too many times. sjm acknowledges that the sisters are caricatures at this point of the story, but she doesn't rewrite the first book to accommodate her switch is plot direction.

nesta can't really tell feyre 'why she treated her x way ' bc the story doesn't know why either. a reason doesn't exist. elains book will probably have the same issue, on an even broader scale bc it doesn't actually have a reason these sisters chose to stare at a wall for 24 hours out of the day. the reason elain 'chooses not to help' is even more flimsy than the reason it gave nesta. esp bc the story later establishes that elain isn't even supposed to be a bad person, she can actually be caring. shes also a gardener so it also makes no sense that she would...cringe away from feyre bc of dirt???? that part makes no sense. she literally refused gloves at some point bc she liked to use her hands. she does so in the same book. and i don't even like this character but its the truth, and its why i cannot adequately take what the story argues about the sister seriously. nothing about what it argues makes any logical sense. it for this story...yeah that matters.

so....its valid that people don't take those chapters seriously. they are actually written with unserious intent. like how can i be angry at the sisters when the story argues they were essentially staring into space for eight years??? argues that papa archeron with 10000000 connections couldn't just....use those connections like he literally did near the end of tar and war? that the sisters could live off wild meat for years and still be alive? that toddler nesta and baby elain annexed toddler feyre??? its an unserious situation here. like feyre would rather -- @ 11, 14 or whatever age the story chooses to argue -- would immediately turn to the deadly woods and not yknow...an actual job??? mmkay.

[starsarefire824]

And so it begins 🥰:

moonflower

Chapter 1:

The thing Will remembers most about the first time he took a hit of weed was Mike’s smile.

“Hey Will,” he said, in a way that had always made butterflies flutter anxiously in his belly. Mike said his name so tenderly it was almost a sigh; his expression impossibly fond.

Will was draped across the couch, rather immersed in the movie he and his friends had been watching when the lazily rolled joint appeared in front of him.

“You want to try?” Mike asked, eyebrows raised in curious askance.

Will hadn’t been sure. But when Mike moved his hand closer, urging Will to take a hit while he held it to his lips, Will couldn’t say no.

He remembers Mike’s fingers brushing against his skin, how Mike’s eyes watched his mouth. He remembers coughing and laughing so much he couldn’t breathe and the exhilaration of realizing his lips had just touched where Mike’s had been seconds before. He remembers the sweet billowy plushness of his thoughts going fuzzy around their edges. He couldn’t stop smiling or take his eyes off the way the harsh light from the floor lamp had lit up every tiny hair on Mike’s arm, the same way the sun makes a field of corn shimmer golden at the end of the summer.

He remembers thoughtlessly reaching out and running his fingers down Mike’s arm ever so lightly and the dull ache low in his belly when goosebumps bloomed upon Mike’s pale skin.