#sexist men refusing to believe that women are whole people with real things going on in their heads

[mbat]

to label someone as crazy, insane, hysterical, is to completely shut out an entire real part of humanity, to shut out knowing and learning more about the world, no matter how good or bad it would be. to shut yourself into a box until youve convinced yourself everyone else is in boxes, and you wonder why you feel so suffocated when youre the one who isnt in a box. youd never be crazy enough to shut yourself into a box.

[xxsmokeyy]

Levi x Drug Dealer! Reader (F) The Lunatic And Her Dog

genre: smut, canonverse — Levi’s early recruitment

summary: being a former thug, the new soldier is given a task to ingratiate himself, finding an old associate from his past along the way.

tw: vices (drugs, cigarettes), rough sex

wc: 12,039 holy fuck (smut is only latter half)

“Coderoin. A strong, sweet, and highly addictive drug that’s been circulating in Stohess District for about four years or so,” the Commander says, voice gruff as he explains the content of the unwrapped paper filled with azure tablets.

Coderoin. Levi thinks he’s heard of that thing not long before. He just can’t quite put his finger on it.

“The Military Police Brigade failed to capture the primary smuggler of this substance multiple times, and it’s only recently come to their notice that it’s gotten reformulated to a liquid solution,” he continues, pinching one of them in his fingers, rolling it back and forth to study its appearance.

Levi can only stand back in ennui, the lack of interest reverberating from his aura. What the fuck is he supposed to do with that information?

Erwin places the tablet back to the paper, propping his palms on the tabletop, and stares deep into Levi’s unamused eyes.

“You’ll have to hunt this drug dealer down.” The curt order comes. Levi cocks a brow in confusion, wondering why the blond would make him do such thing.

“That’s the MP’s job. I thought I joined here to kill those filthy titans, what are you going on about?” he quizzes in confusion.

Erwin sighs, lids shutting close before he massages his temples. “The higher-ups are still not exactly in favor of your recruitment in the army, and as much as you hate buttering people up, you’ll have to deal with this case to secure your postion,” he makes intelligible, getting into the details so to clarify things out.

The raven haired man before him listens intently with a permanent scowl on his face, arms crossed over each other. He’s most definitely not liking the idea of seeking those damn swines’ goodwill. Just when he decided to trust the guy.

“You’ll earn Darius Zackly’s approval once you catch the little felon,” Erwin speaks truthfully. Of course, the Supreme Commander who so hates him, of all people. “It’s just this once. Trust me, you’ll have no more problems with your stay if you solve this case,” he even adds to convince the man. Not that there’s any way around this matter. Levi has to do this to prevent further threats in his position and to clear his reputation as well, by hook or by crook.

“You basically want me to suck up their asses,” he concludes, not a question, more of a full decisive statement. The Commander grunts his affirmative response, still getting used of his soldier’s sharp tongue.

“Tch. To hell with that.”

—

The afternoon later, he’s walking on the stony pavements of Stohess District, left with no choice but to follow the Commander’s orders.

Ever since the death of his last friends, Farlan and Isabel, just a few weeks back, things have gotten ridiculously out of hand regarding his enlistment. It almost arrived to a point where he’s wanted in court for seniors to debate whether he can stay up top or should be sent back to the Underground, considering his heavy crimes.

Holding a poster in hand, he studies the illustration keenly. It says the words WANTED: Notorious Drug Lord in big, thick, and bold letters. In the sketched picture is a person wearing a hood. From what he’s told, the wanted criminal has been in the hide for years now, but never once left the district.

“That man never shows himself. That portrait is from a witness in a pub near a shanty town. Some say he often appears wearing a cloak.” That’s what a Military Police officer said to him when he asked for the dealer’s whereabouts.

A man? He squints a little to see the image better.

It’s a bit difficult to determine since it’s only a roughly sketched side profile with a hood worn, blocking the hair, but he’s sure as hell those are certainly not eyes of a man, looking ultimately feminine and provocative. He doesn’t know, but those eyes are somewhat achingly familiar. And those plump lips that held a suggestive smile? He’s fully convinced that it’s a woman.

“A woman? That’s in no way a fair lady. Women here in Stohess stay at home and polish their husbands’ boots.” That’s what the Military Police officer said as well when he told it’s a woman.

Fucking sexists. Not that he cares, though.

Levi stops by the said pub, pushing on the saloon doors before walking to a table of three men, boisterously laughing like crazy. It’s dark and warm inside, the trademark ambience of local bars eating up the whole place. “Any of you seen this guy?” he lazily asks, showing the piece of paper to their faces.

Their eyes dart on the illustration before all of them fall silent, throwing looks at each other, and Levi can swear he could hear the rusty gears in their pea sized brain turn.

When they keep quiet, he almost surmises they turned mute upon seeing him and is about to leave them alone, finding them completely useless. He just wants to finish this task, and quick.

“Heard ya were a nasty criminal in the Underground,” the guy on his left comments and drinks the beer at hand, briefly pausing, “ya can’t seriously be turnin’ y’er back on that kinda past,” he smugly continues.

Levi’s brows twitch in irritation. How is that relevant to what he asked?

“Just answer the damn question,” he orders assertively and slams the paper onto their tabletop. The guys exchange gazes once again like it’s some sort of stupid inside code.

“What makes ya think ya can fool us? We know you’ll arrest us off the bat if we answer, young’un,” the man continues, his company still speechless. What, is he the leader of their pack or something?

The way they stare him down with the most condescending eyes is ticking him off to ridiculous measures, he could’ve knocked them out cold one by one already if not for the fact that they obviously know something, and nobody else is in the pub other than them and the staff.

“I don’t give two shits about your work. I’m not asking for you, I’m looking for this guy right here,” he jabs a finger into the poster, causing every one of them to look at it once more.

“I ain’t convinced—”

Levi has had enough of their refusal and decides to pull out his knife, kick the very chair the garrulous man is sitting on to drop him on the ground, beer spilling everywhere, before using the dirty sole of his boot to shove the man’s cheeks against the wooden floor.

He kneels down on his right knee, his other foot still stepping on the man’s face, and points the tip of his freshly sharpened knife just a few centimeters from his eyeball, which earns him a whimper of surprise.

“Gonna stop yakking any minute now?” Levi asks. It’s a bit surprising to him that the bartender of the pub didn’t meddle the whole time for pressing on his customers, oddly similar to the lukewarm nature of his hometown.

The two men freeze in fear, afraid that if they do anything to counter the soldier’s menace, their good friend might suffer and go blind. How worthless.

After a couple more seconds, the old geezer eventually gives in and speaks. “That’s our dealer,” he admits, voice weak and shaky. Levi cocks a brow and listens, finally getting the information he‘s aiming for.

“Guy’s been selling drugs that originated from the Underground,” he adds.

“Coderoin?”

“Yeah. He never shows up to us buyers, only sends brokers to deliver.”

“That’s not a man,” Levi corrects again, slowly getting convinced it’s someone he knows from way back. The descriptions about the wanted dealer and the way she arranges things precisely match, not to mention the poster looking exactly like her.

“I told you I won’t end up in brothels, Levi. I created something, and it’s doing great,” she says with a proud smile painted on her colored lips.

“What is it?”

“Coderoin.”

But the soldier only sounds out of his tree in the listeners’ ears, and they immediately speak to nullify his scarcely credible conspiracy theory. “There’s no way. Women here in Stohess—”

Yeah, he gets it. If they don’t believe it then let it be. See, this is why they haven’t caught the culprit for the past years, because they’re looking for a damn male.

“Where was she last seen?” Levi asks, completely dismissing their words, but the guy tries to oppose the small detail once again. “That’s a man—“

“Where was she last seen?” he repeats, cutting off his hostage’s words while he flattens with his boot the man’s cheeks in such a way as to crush his skull, emphasizing what really is important here and what he’s actually asking for. Levi ignores how the poor guy yelps in pain, waiting for intel he can benefit from.

“I don’t know!” he truthfully says, face already deforming from the forceful contact, having difficulty breathing.

“She lives at the skid row,” the bartender chimes in as he wipes on a glass, turning Levi’s head his way. Someone who knows her real identity, huh?

“How do you know?” he keeps his foot down and quizzes, looking for the authenticity in his words. The runt might be fooling him for all he knows, a trap to lure him in.

“I live there,” he simply says. “I don’t have business with her so it won’t be bad if I rat out on her,” he shrugs and turns his back to return to working. The guys listen, puzzled about what they’re talking about.

The ravenhead thinks for a moment, then rising to this heels, kicking away the head he was previously pulverizing before heading out the bar to make off.

In the end, none of them was substantial but the barkeep. And in Levi’s humblest opinion, the guy whom he mostly talked to should drop his so-called friends who didn’t even have the guts to drag their pal out of his plight, being one who gets rid of ineffective people himself.

He looks up at the gloomy afternoon skies once he exits, the clouds moving as he thinks about a variety of stuffs from his past. Envisioning and etching into his brain the familiar silky locks, rose red lips, and a pair of sultry eyes, he then starts walking.

Now, to find you.

—

With the help of the villagers’ directions, he’s arrived at the said skid row by foot. It surprises Levi a lot, having not expected to see a number of resemblances between the Underground and the surface. The visible corruption is no different from down there, with certain rundown areas openly exposed, just a couple blocks away from extravagant neighborhoods. That just goes to show that people’s amoral natures don’t change wherever they go.

He scans his eyes around, studying the dark and uninviting alleyways, the narrow paths, and the compressed townhouses. It’s almost as if the sun refuses to shine here.

This place isn’t any less than a junkyard, he thinks, coming from someone who has just escaped from one.

He takes a step forward to head to the flat where you apparently reside, only to get stopped by a bunch of gangsters, another guy putting his hands on Levi’s shoulders. An animal touching him with filthy fingers, something he hates the most.

“Where do you think you’re going, kid?” the insect says as he looks down on the soldier’s short stature, showing not a droplet of respect. “What’s a scout soldier doing here? There ain’t no titans here, boy!” There’s nothing they love to ridicule more than suicidal people under the disguise of a uniform.

He immediately uses his clean hands that would unfortunately be dirtied as he removes the assaulter’s arm away from him, squeezing it with great force before twisting the whole limb around with full intentions to dislocate it.

The man screeching in pain, Levi gives him a good kick in the face, causing him to fall to the ground, unconscious. Of course, there’s three more left standing. Even if they’re rendered speechless and horrified, he still can’t let bothersome runts on the loose.

One of the delinquents attempts to swing a fist at him, a sorry excuse for a punch by the way, only to get hit right in the guts, disgusting spit flying everywhere. The other tries to slash a knife, which he only snatches away with nimble fingers before hitting a nerve on the neck to knock the guy out cold.

The last one, hairline already receding and looking grey, tries to hit him with a bat. It’s a pitiful sight to look at, really, how they all think they could give him a good beating when they approached him. He crouches down to dodge the weapon, dragging his dominant leg on the floor to kick sweep the old fart off of his toes, head falling against the solid concrete.

Dusting his hands to rid himself of the muck he gained from fighting them, Levi stands upright in vexation and observes as they either squirm or doze off on their own. A flock of vagrants that has got to learn how to keep their hands to themselves.

The thing is, he has had enough of drunkards trying to get on his way. He just wants to get his job done, bring you to those impotent MP’s and get this reputation Erwin kept saying to secure his position for a lifetime.

When finally sets foot on your alleged doorstep, he tries for three knocks, waiting for a response. As much as he wants to finish this task, he doesn’t want to barge in your suite, if possible, because he’d also hate it if it’s done to him. He tries again, focusing to catch with his ears any faint sound.

Minutes pass by and he turns the knob open to find out it’s unlocked the whole time, all his deliberations of keeping still and going down the drain.

It’s quiet and empty.

Levi freely enters, keeping an eye out for attackers, if there are. It’s small, but enough for one person.

He goes with the assumption that you live alone, and maybe don’t have any flings. He still remembers how you latch onto different guys back in the day to have them arrange deals for you. Yeah, you had a way with your words, especially towards men. The epitome of a social butterfly.

But maybe it’s not like that anymore, now that you’re in a city like this with rich people out and about.

How did you wind up here in the first place?

He keenly observes as he goes further in. To your credit, the place is relatively clean. No scattered trash, no messy clothing, and the furniture are well organized. Well, that’d be essential to make an innocent front and hide your junk evidence. But still, impressive.

Nothing really seems malicious at first glance. So far, no one’s coming out, and there are no drugs to be found.

He stumbles upon two more closed doors. He finds that one of them is a bathroom, and the other your bedroom. Aside from those, there’s nowhere else to go. He enters your personal space, looking for something peculiar.

Your bed is fixed, sheets folded nicely. You had a study desk, and a bookshelf. Based from the covers’ titles, they’re all about science. Tch. It’s a dead giveaway. No matter how much you tried to make an oh-so normal living space, those books would be a suspicious lead.

Now what? You’re nowhere to be seen.

Is she home?

He looks around the room looking for an ashtray or even a fire because somehow, it reeks of burning cigarettes, like it’s being consumed at the moment.

Something finally clicks inside of him. Of course, you’re a damn drug lord. An infamous one, at that. You’ll need someplace to hide once all hell breaks loose, and someplace to hide your stuff.

Levi uses his boot to lift the carpet he’s currently stepping on, and finds, just what he expects, a trapdoor. Clever, but not too much.

He then vigorously kicks the door open, which nearly bursts it off of its hinges, if not already. It swings down loosely, losing its assistive joints. He ignores the wooden ladder provided and instead jumps down, dropping on his knees.

“Now you gotta fix that,” says a soft and seductive voice that is definitely no stranger the young man.

Levi raises his gaze and finally finds you, sitting on a chair in the opposite end of a long presidential table, smoking a mint cigarette, and the stench reaches his nostrils. That’s where the ashy pong was coming from.

The secret chambers appear almost pit black from the lack of natural light if not for the candle sconces built on the walls all around, and the lone lantern situated on the table.

He scrutinizes you for a moment, meeting your luscious, glowing eyes. Your hair is styled just the way he remembers, luxuriant, untied, and flowing in sync with your movements. Your plump lips shaded red, fierce like how you want it. Your figure voluptuous by your feminine puff sleeved dress, black front laced corset over top hugging at your curves. For a dress so dainty, you ultimately still looked provocative.

Actually, he kind of understands how it’s unbelievable for such a lady to be a criminal of ill repute. Although nothing much has changed with you external-wise, your youthful attributes have only matured beautifully, and you’ve indeed grown up to be an enchanting woman.

“It’s me. You’ve found me,” you claim, feeling his strong stare burning into your skin. What, does he not recognize you now?

It’s totally the other way round. Every single one of your physical features under the warm candlelight’s reflection keeps rekindling memories inside his head, some just flat out inappropriate.

“So you are the goddamn drug dealer,” he states, not any less than a confirmation.

“Drug dealer is a bit brusque, don’t you think?” you comment with a smile. Anything but to be called a drug dealer. How cheap.

“I’ve been thinking about it, and I think I prefer to go with narco hustler, rolls off the tongue just right,” you suggest. It sounds plain dumb to Levi’s ears, you had zero taste. “Okay, maybe it doesn’t,” you take back upon seeing his seriously bored expression. He has always been one so hard to read, but now he just looks evidently repulsed.

Levi stays standing across of you, resting his arm on top of the other, and leans back against the ladder. Maintaining respective distance, he decides to linger for a bit, intrigued by what stories you must got.

“Rumor has it you’re one of them now. Guess it’s true,” you posite as you observe his physique, wearing a uniform jacket with the wings of “freedom”. Couldn’t he have joined the MP’s out of the three? Lame.

The young man watches back as you lift your wrist up and bring the stick to your delicate lips, inhaling a lungful before blowing the smoke upwards, and he could easily feel how you held yourself up with superiority. Nothing new with the headstrong woman that you are.

“What the fuck are you doing up here?” he inquires right away, genuinely curious of your sudden disappearance years ago. He knew full well you weren’t dead, but he never got his hands on news about you.

“Huh? What the fuck are you doing up here, too? You surely downgraded from being a crime boss to a pongo’s dog. Seriously?” you retort cheekily. Last time you checked, he was doing well with his gang, couldn’t he have stayed that way?

He massages the temples of his forehead with closed eyes. Your words are making him think back to his decisions, but not too deeply. He reluctantly contemplates if it’s alright telling you things, but chooses to do so. You had a spot in his life, too, no matter how small. And he’s going to arrest you anyway.

“Lot of complications. It was all supposed to be a job to kill the Section Commander then we’d get granted citizenship…” he trails off, unsure of whether to go on or stop there, “but things took a turn.”

“Hmm?” you hum, waiting for his continuation.

He stays silent and refuses to say a word.

“Alright then. Well what about… who was it? Farlan and Isabel?” you ask cluelessly, thinking if you got their names right.

He sighs. It was exactly what he was trying to avoid. “They’re in the Survey Corps now as well?” you quiz, partially interested. You already know the answer. Who would leave their beloved boss? You just know for sure it won’t be them.

“They’re gone,” he averts his gaze, expertly hiding his emotions away with thick pride.

Your eyes largen a little in realization. “Oh. Sorry.” He catches you put out your cigarette by prodding its cherry into the glass ashtray. There’s still about half left but you paid no extra mind, and it says a lot about your well heeled state.

Enough about him. “What exactly happened to you?” Levi questions, and you prop your elbows on the tabletop, interlacing your fingers together before resting your chin on them.

“Bought citizenship,” you start off, never taking your glance off him. He‘s hot all right, still a sight for sore eyes. Heavily improved, even. It has been five years, after all. You admit, he aged like the finest wine there is.

“A pain in the pockets, yes. But worth it.” You pucker your lips and furrow your brows together upon remembering your old situations.

“Underground folks were becoming cheapskates day by day! Can you believe it? They’re trying to buy two-fifty for, what, five bronze coins? My stuff are as expensive as your maneuvering gear, you know!” you complain, memories of being wrongly paid years ago flashing through your brain.

That’s life. At least you’re well off now. That’s what’s important.

He rakes his eyes around the room and finds stacks and stacks of packaged tablets, same ones as those Erwin showed him.

“Coderoin, huh?” he comments, testing the word on his tongue. Nothing special with the name, probably came from the scientific components. He doesn’t give a rat’s ass.

The warm temperature from the window restricted room urges him to remove his jacket, and so he eventually does. You try not to raise both your eyebrows in captivation as you see the outlines of his muscular torso tracing through his clothes, his veiny forearms exposed by his cuffed shirt.

“I haven’t released it yet, but I just finished formulating a liquified version to easily shoot it up the veins for a more elongated and ecstatic experience,” you proudly brag to divert your attention as well, and Levi cocks a brow in confusion. Haven’t released it yet?

“The MP’s already know there’s a new formula,” he informs, recalling what the Commander said when he was educating him about it earlier.

“What? Already?” you ask, gasping in surprise. It’s a given that word spreads around here fast, but you’re doing your best to work in confidentiality. Some big-mouthed brokers of yours must be babbling.

“Yeah.”

“See how famous I am?” You giggle, letting the issue slide.

“Everyone thinks you’re a man.”

“What?” you ask again, completely scandalized, eyes widening in repulsion. They cannot be serious. You never knew that! Not even your associates told you!

It’s a bit amusing to him how that almost looks like it matters to you the most. Do you even know why he’s here? You don’t seem to be questioning his out of nowhere presence.

“You’re a drug abuser. It’s natural for people to think that way,” he says, eyeing your reactions.

“That’s mean! I’m not an addict. In fact, I don’t even do those often,” you oppose a matter-of-factly. It’s not half a lie, you probably had one the past week, but aside from that, you never took it recently. This stuff is for the customers to abuse. You don’t really have an avid addiction to it.

Honestly speaking, being one for dirty felonies ending just a couple months back, he couldn’t care less what kind of profession you had, as long as people find their own way to live, he’d immediately—but only mentally—give kudos to them. It’s hard enough trying to survive in a corrupt system.

You lived all by yourself back then. You were a tough and independent one, he’d give you that. You helped him with particular deals. Important ones.

In actuality, it’s solely because of you that he got his hands on certain armaments like the ODMG. It was hard to obtain those, seeing as it’s a highly illegal trade and costs an arm and a leg. Though on the plus side, it made his stealings more convenient and less a pain in the ass.

But he wouldn’t say you’re good friends, nor are you on the same gang. Associates, he would say. At times, something even more than associates. Oh, it’s not anything close to romantic. Just something beneficial on both sides.

“I mean at least I’m not a squaddie now, playing soldier like you,” you add, playfully mocking him. Levi throws you a glare of the same energy. It’s not like he wanted this. He’s got no choice, it’s better than going back to that sunken town, alone at that matter.

“You don’t show up to people here,” he surmises from what he learned. As you rise to your feet and walk to the piles of boxes, you fail to notice how he gives your form a runover, from head to toe, his eyes involuntarily staying on some shapely areas.

“This is where I bring my brokers. I’m not going face-to-face with my dear buyers now. What if they sell out on me? Can’t trust people nowadays.” It’s true, because back there, everyone was a criminal in their own ways. You grab a small bag of the tablets and turn around to show him, dangling it mid-air.

“But I’m telling you, people here are as generous as lords. It’s basically easy money everyday,” you say and throw him the drawstring bag, which he catches with one hand in maximum proficiency, the action causing his arms to flex a little. Oh, those muscles. Suave.

“You’re living in a dumpster.”

“It’s called a sentimental value,” you dismiss.

Levi pours some out and takes a moment to observe the packed drugs on his palm, the blue color even and smooth. He’s never found himself drawn to this kind of thing, but he understands the usage. Something to escape from reality for a short period of time.

“I never expected you to turn on your past, of all people,” you mindlessly comment, causing him to look at you with furrowed brows. Though you never meant that the bad way and just wanted to speak your mind, your choice of words still strike a nerve from within him.

Why the fuck are people on the surface keep acting like angels as if they’re any better? At this point, he’d prefer his hometown people over some half assed drug addicts.

This should be enough for today. He carelessly chitchatted for long, almost forgetting his true purpose of being here. It’s too bad he has to ruin your oh-so perfect life. Well, there’s not much he can do about that as it’s how the cookie crumbles. Dragging people down to rise up the ranks is part of the norm in this wretched society, it’s just unfortunate he has to do it to you.

“Say, what if you join me? Leave the Corps and let’s team up. You can run the errands, and I stay here to formulate,” you continue to propose, fully unaware that you ticked him off just a second ago, bringing him back to earth.

“I can’t. Apparently, I’m a soldier now,” he straight up rejects and starts to walk up to you, handcuffs ready by his belt.

Taken aback by his deadpan refusal, you tilt your head in an attempt to understand. “Well then, if that’s what you want.”

“What I want is for you to come with me,” the soldier finally admits, showing the restraining shackles he has at hand.

Realization dawns upon you, and you feel a bit dense. Oh, right. He did welcome himself into your home, completely unannounced.

A dry and bitter chuckle leaves your throat continuously, dissolving into a long thread of laughter that echoes around the spacious room, resembling those of a mentally deranged woman. Levi’s forehead knots in a mix of puzzlement and irritation as he waits for you to calm down.

Your fit of entertainment starts to boil down, tears of satiric bliss filling your ducts. You wipe them off timidly, building up the manner of being a prim and proper lady. “Sorry… that was funnier than I expected,” you apologize, and he couldn’t quite understand what you want to come across with. He waits for your explanation.

“Buzz off, will you?” you ask of him once you finish composing yourself.

“What?” the man quizzes.

Your face turns dead serious as you fish a tiny pouch from your dress’ pockets, throwing it lazily to the table, contents spilling mid air due to the loosened tie. An abundance of golden coins shower all over the place and fall suspendedly to the ground.

“I’m telling you to fuck off. Now,” you don’t flash him even the smallest of smiles as you curtly give him the order.

You’re bribing him.

And fuck, did you drive him round the twist, he has never felt so insulted his whole life.

Is it because you’re doing well than him now despite the honorability of occupation? Is it because it’s coming from someone he knows from the past? Is it because of your tone so ludicrously condescending it’s making every single drop of blood in his body boil?

“Need more? Why don’t we negotiate upstairs with the amount that will send you away?” you carry on with casting aspersions on him.

What a jackass. After all you’ve done for him? There’s nothing you hate more than shameless traitors, and this guy in front of you doesn’t bat an eye about being one.

Meanwhile, you were rubbing to his face the looming difference between his stability and yours. And of course, it doesn’t matter whose reputation is better, because both of you were miscreants at one point in life. The only distinction is: you gladly kept on with that line of work, and he was forced with his.

Levi takes big strides to reach your form, dropping both the jacket and the drugs he was holding. He’s furious, but he refuses to show. All he wants now is for you to shut your filthy mouth.

He lunges at you and slams you against the wall, wrapping his fingers around your neck. An involuntary whimper slips past your lips, and it certainly feeds his ego to see you so helpless. “Shut your damn mouth,” he bellows, tone imposing the dangers you could get from rubbing him up the wrong way.

You’re not about to give him what he wants. He’s barking up the wrong tree here, treating you so indiferrently for what? For letting him in and being hospitable? For offering him a generous partnership? Can you believe this guy? He’d throw your acquaintance off the window for his own sake. Selfish crab.

“Hate to see your ally so successful?” you attempt to breathe out, one hand trying to unclasp his fingers, one hand aiming to claw your nails at his face. He slaps it away before you can make contact and increases pressure.

Your eyes well up from the suffocating pain as he robs you of air supply, choking you tightly and pressing roughly. Crap!

“That’s—all you got?” you struggle to challenge him, same time trying to pull the slightest amount of oxygen into your lungs you can catch on.

Your dare does absolutely nothing but piss him off. Wow, you’re a bitch to try and control. Levi has the means to tighten his grip. It doesn’t even matter to the MP’s if he brings you dead as long as he can hand over the evidence. But he won’t go that far, because that far would be killing you off.

Staying that way for a moment longer, he examines your facial expression, still brave and never surrendering. He then lets go of you, but only by throwing you to the hard ground. Your back hits the flooring and you squint your eyes in sharp ache, all the while desperately breathing for any available air.

“Rot in hell,” you curse at him in great detestation. Lying back, you gently caress your neck as if to heal the reddened skin from the harsh force he applied.

Levi sighs, collecting himself, and kneels down in level with your weakened body. Maybe he went too hard on you. He has got to keep his temper at bay.

“Sorry,” he genuinely says. It’s not everyday he says that word, but when he does, he accepts that he’s mistaken. A bit surprised, you peer at him with a bleary vision, finding a scowl on his face as he admits his wrongdoing.

You swear you were ready to laugh it all out and forgive him, if not for the fact that he’s currently grabbing the handcuffs, still determined to arrest you. How sincere of him. What exactly was he apologizing for again?

You wait for him to scoot over, discreetly regaining steady breath as you stay laying down. You’re not the best at countering someone combat wise, but growing up a female in the Underground has taught you a couple moves enough to stall you some time to escape.

As he finally crouches beside you, you jolt up to sit and sling two of your arms around his nape and under his armpit, pulling him towards you before throwing him beside with the strength you can manage to utilize.

When did you learn that move? It baffles Levi a little, but he won’t let you have your way. His weight isn’t something you could overlook, that you’re dragged along with and on top of him. The moment you try to quickly prop yourself up and make a run, he grabs your waist and rolls over to bring you back down, straddling on top of you.

“I’ll kill you!” you spit to his face, once again feeling betrayed. You never once thought he’d drive you into a corner do this to you.

“That’s cute of you,” he says in graceful sarcasm. You fight him back with a piercing glare, but he only looks back at you with those apathetic, steel grey eyes. Nothing has changed within them, they’re still cold and indecipherable. It matches his personality well.

Apathetic? He can’t be all that bad, he’s just human. He has needs, one way or another.

You stick a hand out to pull his dark locks, and for once, you actually succeed. He hisses in irritation. He should have expected you’d put up a fight, but he doesn’t get why he’s just straight up pissed. Talk about annoying.

He doesn’t expect it when you forcefully yank him in for a deep kiss, the sudden motion causing your lips to crash together, freezing him in place. It’s all just to take him by surprise and then you’d gab the chance to run away in haste. Cheap trick, but worth a shot. If this will work, that is.

Earlier than he can try to push you away, you kick your knee into his abdomen and hurl him aside with all your might, doing your best to head to the ladder leading up to the trapdoor. But Levi is quick on his feet and kicks your leg to make you lose balance. Tripping over yourself, you fall toward the table, your stomach plowing into its side frames. He will never let you escape.

You inwardly curse him for being such a headache. Before you know it, your left arm is rashly held behind your back and you shriek in pain, your cheek shoved down onto the tabletop. Shit. He got you there.

“Can’t you be any gentler?” you ask, voice soft and of forged innocence, which is patently just an attempt to con him. He ignores you and instead starts wearing one part of the handcuffs around your wrist from behind. You think of anything to get yourself out of this. Chuckling dryly, “Hey… I told you already. Let’s talk things out,” you woo, but to no avail. Levi twists your arm a bit, not too much, but enough to shut you up. He sure is enraged.

A lock clicks from one of the shackles and you feel the cold steel wrap your frail wrist. It’s happening, the most humiliating moment for a criminal. You’re all tapped out of ideas—

with your limited field of vision, you scan your eyes around what you can see, finding a trail of drugs scattered on the ground. It must be from when he launched at you and tried to strangle you to death. Although you still don’t know why he did that, you bury the thought to the back of your head to come up with a plan.

—except one.

A smile creeps up your lips, one that appears when you just figured out something clever. Alright, then. Let’s see what else is enraged.

Not giving him the chance to lock both your hands together, from your held up position, you perk your bum up a little to make a feel for his crotch. Your thick cheeks hit something poking and you giggle in festivity. It so turns out your hunch is right, his bulge is, indeed, straining from inside his pants.

“What the fuck are you doing?” he stops dead in his tracks and questions, more like an order for a valid answer.

With your bended over form being perfectly convenient, you wiggle your ass and stick it up against his obviously aching groin, teasing it even more. It’s a shame you’re both wearing clothes, your titillating movements ending up just mere friction.

“My, my. How long has it been like that?” you jest, voice about half an octave high and femininely suggestive. His brows knit in pique and flips you over to make you face him and to put a halt to your indecent measures. You click your tongue in mock, elbow propped against the table to look up at him.

“What a naughty soldier,” you whisper with a satisfied smirk, and reach a hand out to pull his cravat, yanking him down and in for another kiss. This time, it’s you who won’t let him escape, with nothing else but a nice trick for women to prevail over men.

It makes his hackles raise how you try to enter his mouth with your probing tongue like you’re the one in foremost control. As if he’ll let that happen.

He pushes your tongue back and bites your lower lip, earning him entrance along with a quiet mewl. He then travels your wet cavern with his own, forcefully exploring every inch to show you who’s in charge, like always. There and then, he instantly distinguishes the mint flavored nicotine evenly mixed in with your sweet saliva. It interests him how five years have already passed, and yet you consistently taste the same. Up until here, you never dropped the habit of smoking.

You try to fight back and earn your place, hooking both your heels into his hips to draw him closer. Even if it’s utterly inappropriate and misplaced, you quickly feel your pussy drip with excitement. Everything feels so nostalgic.

Amidst the kiss, his palm begins to roam around your body, from your neck to your chest. Levi finds the corset a hindrance, and he takes note to go back to it later, maybe rip it apart as well.

He resumes exploring your body, from your tummy, to your clothed womanhood. It starts to rile you up and turn you on as he slips his hand under your dress, not bothering to lift it up, just blindly cupping for your sex. When he finally feels your panties, you know for certain he smirked.

“You’re not so frigid yourself,” he comments upon the discovery that your growing wetness is soaking the fabric. He slides one finger against your slit, your undergarment still in between. He gently rubs on it as he sucks on your soft lips, earning him quiet moans in return. What a nasty tease.

When you both pull away for air, you open your eyes to look daringly straight into his grey ones, and while you exchange stares, you also let go of his cravat and grab his hand as if to guide them deeper and further in. He finds that you’re more than just eager when you put his hand inside, now in touch with your intimate skin. He gladly takes your offer and tears your panties away, his vigor making you laugh breathily.

Levi plunges two fingers in without delay, and you yield in defeat, letting him do as he likes. He has no intentions of lurking around the corner. You let your head hang back as he does you with his slick fingers, moaning to your will when he hits your good spots.

He lets his unreasonable hate and anger dissipate into nothingness, allowing himself to be indulgent in giving you pleasure. It’s been so long that this almost serves as your reunion. He doesn’t mind that. Just as long as he keeps in mind his sole purpose of breaking in to take him with you.

The ravenhead watches you spread your legs wider, visibly aching for more as you surrender to him and give him full control over your body. He moves his dexterous fingers in and out, the rhythm exquisite like how you prefer it. It’s like he still memorized you the same. Your responsive hums are tempting and fervid, your bodily movements a subtle indication of a longing. He increases his speed, looking for an angle to rub you up good, and he knows he hit it right when you shudder a little, back falling to the table and grip losing.

He lets on with working his hand, your juices coating his fingertips as he jabs them in deep repeatedly. It’s a flattering sight to see you so lost and vulnerable singlehandedly by his mere touch, and he would be lying if he says it doesn’t turn him on.

Your sweet, melodious moans resonate inside the whole of the chambers, music to Levi’s ears. Your mouth partly hanging open, eyes in but a permanent daze as you struggle to crack them open. The way he has you going crazy is beautiful. You’re beautiful. Not half-bad-looking for a woman about to approach her thirties.

Out of nowhere, a mood ruining thought crosses his mind. He recalls you saying this place is where you bring your brokers. And since your neighbors haven’t found out your true identity and racket yet, having a clump of men visit your apartment could entirely be misleading.

It’s only natural that they think you’re some kind of courtesan selling your body. Knowing you, you don’t give a flying fuck if people think that, but with him, it doesn’t sit right. Who knows? Maybe you actually humor the same men every once in a while. Just look at what you’re doing now.

A grim expression materializes on his face. No, he’s not jealous. But in all honesty, he wants what’s his to stay his.

You couldn’t think of anything as he harshly thrusts his fingers into you, your body’s consciousness focusing only on the uprising pleasure, but when you’re this close to coming, all of a sudden, he pulls them out at once, grabs your hands and finally locks both your wrists together with the handcuffs before pinning them on top of your head.

Cruelly left hanging, a wave of disappointment rushes over your veins. “You’ve got to be fucking joking me,” you whine, genuinely annoyed as you’re already fully installed and waiting for your explosion. Did he do that on purpose? Yes. But to your surprise, he doesn’t do anything to lift you up or bring you with him to jail.

Brows furrowed and eyes dark, Levi unties your corset’s lacing in a rapaciously eager manner, harshly pulling down the garter of your neckline to let your boobs bounce free. Your eyes widen a little when he pulls your skirt up to gain thorough access of your fruity folds. You didn’t expect him to continue on, with you restrained, even.

“Just like the good old days, huh?” you tease, voice awash with prurience. Although this reminds you of those days, this is surely going to be a new experience. While handcuffed? You love it, and just thinking about him pounding you out as you’re unable to lay your hands on him makes your neck hairs straighten in great arousal. You’re totally into this!

He’s suddenly reminded of years ago when you’d come over to catch up with the latest trades, or simply just bring with you your babbling of the day. Oftentimes, the visit ends up in the bedroom, the couch, the kitchen.

You were both young, both helping fill each other’s primitive needs and desires, not the thinnest string left attached. You handled the whole thing casually, the whole thing being just lustful sex every once in a while. Fuck buddies. That’s what they call it.

Memories of your heated body rubbing up against his, lips messy on one another’s skin, hands everywhere, nude and naked—sometimes still completely clothed, fucking you against the wall, fucking you on the counter, and finally, you kneeling on the floor as you eat him up hungrily. All of those, just five years ago.

He’s only proven you haven’t changed despite the time difference when you kick your kitten heels away like you disregard its price, stretch your right leg out to reach his crotch, your foot making a feel for his huge bulge.

He looks down to his pants, your toes stroking his covered length invitingly as if to provoke it. “You’re one fucking dirty bitch,” he points out upon your indecorous actions, meeting your catlike eyes illuminating nothing but indiscriminate salacity.

“We’re not all that different, see?” you tell, never tearing your gaze off him as you continue moving your foot up and down. He’s straining so bad, almost making you giggle. Come on, Levi. You’re just as aching as me. We could use a quickie.

He sternly grabs your ankle to stop your lewd ways and keeps quiet until you speak. Does he really think he can stop you from acting so dirty? You then bring your chained wrists to your chest, gently massaging your exposed breasts with what space you can manage, giving him a little show you know he can’t resist.

“I mean, just look at you, wearing a cheesy cravat like it’s gonna make you look dignified,” you poke fun at him and laugh, flashing him a grin before seductively licking your lips. He clicks his tongue in annoyance, but is still unable to take his eyes off of your body as you continue to play with your very own mounds.

“Shut up,” he orders, stripping the authority in his tone. Oh… you know him perfectly well. It’ll only take one last trigger for him to fire away and spring into action.

“You shut up and just fuck me,” you demand candidly, the smile in your face disappearing in the blink of an eye.

You like to think he’s one hell of a dog as he listens to your whim, undoes his trousers, only dropping them so far because of his difficult, complicated, and inhibiting harnesses. What a costume. He glares at you when you raise a sly brow at him, cocky expression conveying the words: still wanna be a soldier?

Levi just wants you to shut up for real, and he victoriously does that by pulling your body closer to the end of the table, then practically ramming his huge dick inside you, his massiveness able to cover your whole depth when he mercilessly buries it in. A long and sonorous moan leaves your throat in the utmost pleasure. Shit, he’s so big! Your tight walls are forced to adjust, desperately stretching to adapt to his size.

“Oh, fuck!” you exclaim, throwing your head back to release your emotions, eyes clenching shut in nauseating pain. Overwhelming! Can a man in his age still grow? You didn’t expect this in any way. It sure hurts like a bitch, but that’s just one of the reasons why you love it.

The cadet starts moving in a pace that tells you he won’t be beating around the bush, quick and rough. The only thing you’re worrying about is the soreness that you’ll get once this is finished, because right now—you’ve said it two times—you love it.

His anger seeping as he forces his dick in and out of your fuckhole, Levi finds it an entertaining cabaret as he watches you, your makeshift play consisting of you opening your mouth wide to moan in fervor, whipping your head side to side, eyelids falling while he quickly drives you to the brink of insanity. One bewitching whore, he thinks.

He bucks his hips even faster and spreads your legs wider apart to let you have what you want, violent and aggressive. Like an obedient lady’s man, Levi spoils your carnality by licking his middle and forefinger to rub your engorged clit, his spit helping him circle the most sensitive spot in ease.

You arch your back up in surprise, your nerves receptive in alerting you of the littlest motions. He’s so good. So good that your brain is going blank, unknowing of what to do. When you squirm under him, try to shoot up and search something to hold on for dear life, only to fall back against the table, your manacled hands suddenly add up to the gratifying thrill stirred with powerlessness. It makes Levi smirk for a fleeting second.

Not so free now, are you?

Simultaneously, Levi deepens his thrusts and starts to rubbing your clit directly to intensify the sensation, back and forth, up and down. With fervent eyes, he feasts on your body as it loses control, tits bouncing from his relentless humps, pussy unendingly leaking. Out of reflex, you try to wriggle away, but to no avail. You’re losing your mind by his marvelous stimulation, and you remember just how he feels like before.

The humidity is starting to take over your bodies, and you both feel hotter. The dark room, the rattling of the lantern on the table, sweat beginning to break through your skins, his stifled grunts, your loud wails, both your heads full of lustful desire. Who knew an apprehension would end up like this? Purely lewd. Seems normal to you, though.

The telltale signs of your upcoming orgasm appear. Your walls envelop around him tightly, your moans longer and hitching, your breaths shaky as you catch it and whatnot. The immense pleasure that keeps gradually stacking up inside your veins finally snaps free, and you come with unruly convulsions. Eyeballs rolling to the back of your skull, your cunt contracting around him, he doesn’t stop, and fuck is it overbearing.

His dick reaching the end of you, his merciless thrusts unwavering when you’re obviously trembling uncontrollably, he’s a damn ruthless lad. The amount of spasms you receive is livid, you so wanted to applaud yourself for choosing the perfect guy. Exceptional taste.

Your high eventually tones down and you’re back to awareness. The demon stops moving soon as well, deciding maybe you’ve had enough.

You gasp for breath after losing your grip from the mind boggling experience. It’s been so long since you’ve had amazing sex, and when you say so long, you mean excruciatingly long years. You study him as he looks back at you. Still so dominant, isn’t he? Refusing to get off the same time you do.

Alright. You’ve had enough mindless nooky. Now it’s time to break free from his clutches. From your lied down position, you then proceed to distract him with some ramblings.

“You better not be fucking your comrades like this,” you quip, collecting yourself.

“I’m not like you,” Levi answers and pulls out, thinking about how much men you’ve entertained your whole life. You cock a brow upon hearing his smart assed reply and mock him again, a giggle escaping your mouth, “Gonna keep acting so clean?” He should know not to continue wanting to look like a saint. He’s not any different than you, for shit’s sake.

“You have a screwed up background, Levi. You can’t seriously be thinking your superiors will be in favor of you just because you lick their boots,” you honestly advise. Disgusting. One moment he’s leading his people, then being ordered around the next.

It’s this again. You shamming like you’re so immaculate. He’d prefer it if you get off your high horse.

“I’m giving you a chance, just quit and—“

“If you keep running your damn mouth, I’m going to make use of it,” he cuts you off before you can continue offering him a deal. It’s not that you genuinely believe he’ll go with it, you just want to stall him because you’re only playing by ear. One wrong move and he’ll stop you dead in your tracks.

His words pique your interest. Does he mean that in the sense that you think it is? “Oh yeah? And how?” you push his buttons to give it a shot.

Levi shows you what he means through grabbing you by the nape to yank you up, then dropping you to the floor, pretty face nearly shoved to the concrete. It hurts a tad, your knees hitting the ground roughly, but your eyes almost immediately dart on the bunch of azure tablets scattered everywhere, three of them within your reach. Perfect!

Quickly, you snatch them with both your hands in one fell swoop, and Levi miraculously misses out on your sneaky motions. You hiss a little in pain and close your palms together tightly when he pulls a fistful of your hair to hoist your head up. Forced to make eye contact with him from below, you momentarily meet his gaze brimming of disrespect before he dicks your mouth down with his length.

He pushes your head to his groin and pounds, so deep and so rash that you literally feel him hit the back of your throat. Tears pool from your ducts as you’re forced to take him inside your mouth. But he doesn’t get it wrong, because he knows you like it, of course.

With full intentions to reach his own end and cum on your pretty tongue, he shoves his erection into your warm cavern and tightens his hold on your now messy locks. He eyes you with resounding authority as you’re down on your knees with fettered hands on your lap, dress still on but tits bare and pouching outward from your neckline, looking up at him with glistening eyes like a good, well-behaved girl. It madly turns him on seeing you like that, what a view.

His fierce stale eyes prod you to bravely blink the tears away and independently move to your own will, proceeding to suck him with stupendous obedience. Fine then, you’ll go along with him. Nothing wrong about taking your time.

Levi throws his head back a little from your sudden motion, bobbing your head back and forth in harmony with his pumps, but quickly returns his gaze to you. You gladly eat his whole size without hesitation and keep your body still, nipples fully peaked in eagerness.

You’re always so damn good, just as he remembers. Never going without a challenge, the same lecherous emotions brewing within your orbs, listening to what you’re told. His grunts start to become audible.

“Look at you, sucking like a little slut,” he groans, slowly becoming unable to process things by your turn on serving him gratification. You give him a hum in response, the muffled sound creating a vibration as you continually hollow your mouth wide open against his thickness, sending chills up and down his spine. He inwardly curses, fuck.

Levi untangles his fingers from your strands, rests them on top of your head instead, and stops giving guidance, allowing you to perform well. You know just what to do and how to please him anyway.

You pull away, a loud and satisfying pop ringing inside the enclosed space upon losing connection. Panting, you inhale the air you could to prep yourself, temperate breath ghosting over his dampened skin. Time to take matter into your own devices. You glimpse at your interlaced fingers, clinking of metals reaching your ears. You can work this without using your hands. Let’s give him a show.

Pausing, you adore his intimidating thickness, the glowing pearls of precum impressively still there on its tip. You playfully swathe it with the edge of your tongue and look straight at him with a childlike gaze, the salty taste staining your buds. The sensitive area causes him shudder and shut his eyes closed inadvertently. And it’s rewarding to see him so affected, because this play is more about you controlling his pleasure, less about him being invulnerable. You feel your pussy trickle with desire.

Without any beating around the bush, you angle your neck a little to the right before gingerly taking him inside your mouth once again, closing in inch by inch. When you dauntlessly push forward until you’re on the verge of gagging, his size filled your throat the way you like it. Then, you go back to pumping in and out in a regular pace, sucking the tip harshly every once in a while.

Levi could feel himself approaching, his guttural groans set free and detectable. Fuck, you wanted to stroke him with your hands to add up to his growing euphoria, but you can’t.

This time round Levi is only able to peer at you from his drooping lids, following your every movements, and he finds winsome the way your cheeks lose its original shape due to his cock being inside, your lips lush and full around his shaft, tongue dancing in a way that mirrors the lantern’s fire. Moving in a very devious pace, you run a lick on the underside of his hot, veiny penis, lapping him up like a thirsty bitch. God, you are coy, and it’s taking him every last ounce of his resolve for his body not to react something close to pitiful submission.

It takes him one last blow for him to finally explode, a powerful rush spreading all throughout the ends of his limbs, his balls clenching as he shoots his cum deep inside your chops, to which you willingly gulp down, a satisfied ahh leaving your lungs like your quench for his seed has been solved.

The soldier mindlessly pats your head, and you give him a quiet purr before rising to your feet. We’re not finished yet.

As if your lips are magnetized into his own, you lean in and let them crash together. He answers back just the same, indicating he’s still up for some more. But you shouldn’t put your guard down, you might not know it if he knocks you out all of a sudden.

“You’re still the same nasty whore I know,” he vehemently growls in between the lip locking, intense flame starting to devour his system. “Shut up,” you talkback. You ache to touch him but these irksome shackles are on the way. You choose not to mind it anymore since it’s only a matter of minutes before you leave.

You push him back down to the chair and he sits down in force. “Pull my skirt up,” you order on a whim, and he does as he’s told, holding your skirt for you. You help yourself into the same chair and truss your knees beside his thighs, settling for a convenient position until you’re straddling his front, wrists on the chest’s top rail, then sitting on his fully stiff and awaiting cock. As you spread your laps apart to aim and sink down, you swear you almost went insane.

A lengthy, strenuous hum slips out your lips upon letting your tight cunt engulf his big dick. “Fuck,” you mutter, whipping your head back in zeal. You should try not to lose your mind or else.

Your stretched out neck grants him the opportunity to nibble at the delicate skin, sucking intensely to create a mark of ownership, the tangy flavor due to the thin film of sweat covering your skin. It stings a little when he nips, but almost tickling at the same time. You mewl and let Levi finish his job and lower your forehead to meet his glance.

It doesn’t take you long before returning to crashing into him, his distinct taste amusingly addictive to you. The kisses sloppy and unorganized, you begin to roll your hips up and down, and he thrusts upward to meet you like an animal in heat. “Shit, you’re so fucking tight,” he breathes out low.

You pull away to gasp for wind, chest stuttering and ragged from your unfaltering humps. “I know,” you brag and pause. The near to none distance between you two allows you to study his facial features and point out what changed by the years.

Hmm, not a lot really. He still looks twenty-four with his superbly chiseled jaw, slightly parted inviting lips, narrow nose, and the slim lining of his brows. Flawless and without fault, except for the darkening bags under his silver pools, which you dig by the way. He is, in fact, the godly embodiment of sexy, you bet women in his rank swoon for him only to be pushed aside. Lucky of you, you have a one of a kind charisma that drags this real life devil to his feet.

You look into each other’s face for a couple briefing moments, both of you discovering similar pairs of fiery eyes filled with lust in an overflowing amount. Meanwhile, his gaze dawdles on your red lips, color smudged by his doing, and he likes it. The longer he stares up at you, the more he’s convinced you’re nothing but a licentious woman hiding under your little renaissance dresses. Just thinking about it makes him want to fuck you so bad.

Levi refuses to stay still and dives into your breasts, causing your back to arch, unexpectedly hitting the perfect spot. He isn’t content and squeezes your butt, then letting his hands sit just at the top of your ass’ globes. “Levi—ah!” Shit! You desperately hold back your uprising orgasm. You have to stay in tact.

With that in mind and while he suckles on your twin mounds, you grab the chance to wring your clasped hands to your mouth, letting three of your dear coderoin melt and simmer under your tongue. This will have to do.

It’s thrilling, you’re about to drug a person who’s currently eating your boobs out hungrily in an alternating manner. What an odd situation. You wish you could continue fucking, but let’s not forget that Levi is very objective, and he’ll still eventually do his task no matter how much fun you spent with him. Before he can do that, you’ll just beat him to it.

You wait for the sweet, pungent tang to unravel, and when he lifts his chin to kiss you, the drugs are already diluted by your spittle. You skillfully transfer it into his mouth in a sparse method so he won’t notice right away.

Completely unaware, Levi gets to sparring with your tongue in a battle of ascendancy, his hands groping everywhere, and you don’t stop riding him gracefully like you didn’t do anything malicious at all.

With every grind being slick, an endless seduction, you continue enjoying yourself for the last lingering junctures. The constant sheathing into your impossibly close-fitting fuckhole extracts husky groans from his throat, ending up subdued against your mouth. He bites on your lower lip, earning himself a delightful whimper.

Two minutes pass by, something snaps, the brisk effectiveness all thanks to you. He doesn’t know why kissing you feels so dizzying, and… intoxicating. He slowly stops moving his lips and pulls away, cracking both his eyes open, only to be greeted by a cunning look. Then and there, overwhelming peak hits him like a freight train.

He feels less aware, a heavy weight being pressed against his body, colors around him becoming vibrant and he bets his whole life he could feel his own blood stream moving from inside his veins, synchronized with his heartbeats. His peripheral vision seems artificially sluggish yet accelerating.

Your lips quirk upward, discovering the befuddled expression plastered on his handsome face. You notice how his muscles strain in distress, but he can’t move even a single inch, indicating your success.

Levi’s brows furrow in cluelessness, eyes later widening upon realizing what kind of dirty stunt you pulled on him from up your sleeve.

You fix your posture upright before removing your body from his, heaving out a sigh of relief. Standing up, you look at him. Frozen and unable to do a single thing to restrain you. Down and obedient like a mere, small pet. At long last! He’s out of your hair.

“You’re too high to walk straight right now, aren’t you?” you jest, voice laced with the most graceful condescension. Of course, you know perfectly well first times can be extremely stupefying, especially with the dosage you just used for a rookie like him. Instead of it being euphoric, it’s entirely going to be the opposite. Nothing close to good.

“What the fuck did you just do?” poor Levi seethes in anger, but even his tone sounds tenfold more groggy compared to when he first arrived.

“Gave you a heavenly experience?” you giggle and repeatedly pull your wrists away from each other in an effortless attempt to break them apart, the hindrance of a shackle limiting your movements. Bothersome.

What part of weariness and intense jet lag is the heavenly experience? In a trice, Levi blames himself for being careless and taking you for granted. He should’ve done better than forget you’re from the same garbage dump he’s from. You’re one fucking crazy bitch.

Helpless, he watches you walk to the part of the table where you left the cigarette pack, shaking it all out just to get one and clip it between your lips. Some roll off to the ground, but you pay it no heed. His blood is boiling hard and tries to stand. You let him squirm around, confident that he can’t do anything, and struggle on your own to fish your lighter from your dress’ pockets.

You take your precious time lighting your stick, butane triggering the fresh burn of tobacco. You don’t mind that you look ridiculous with both hands on your face, or that your hair is a mess, or that your breasts are popped out. As you suck for smoke and briefly fill your lungs to then blow it upwards, you think, it’s just you and a spiked guy in here anyway.

Letting the nicotine rush take over your senses, you sit on the edge of the table and examine the dark haired soldier. What gives, he’s more impotent than you now. It’s ever so rare to see Levi so open to attack. “Mint goes well with coderoin, you know?” you inform just to piss him off.

“I’ll fucking kill you.” Though you can hear his fury, the threat only sounds so void, the usual venom lacking from his pitch.

He sits back as you pull in smoke into your chest, exhale it out, menthol aroma reaching his nose. You chuckle heartily that among every tip and corner of his body feels like burning from rage.

Time is ticking and slipping away from Levi’s grasp. He stays silent, the pounding of his heart loud enough to ring in his ears. He can’t accept he got deceived. Did you plan this from the very start? When? The moment he told you his intentions? The second he asked about your life here? Or maybe when he kicked the trapdoor open? That can’t be. Five years, and you’re quicker on your feet than you once were.

“That’s cute of you,” you copy what he said when you barked the same phrase. You admit, earlier was a close call, but thanks to your sharp mind and the past you shared, you won him over. Barely.

As always, men are most vulnerable when driven by libido. What fools.

With one last hit of the cigarette, achieving the lightheaded state you’re aiming for, you drop it to the floor, not bothering to extinguish it. Burn this house down, for all you care. You’ll have to move places from now, knowing he might start tailing behind you for vengeance.

Now, you can’t stay longer. The drugs won’t last on him from such a method. It’s not the right way to take it—through kissing.

It was a good time, but unfortunately, you have to part ways with him. The guy wants to arrest you, and that’s the last thing you want to happen. You’d rather settle in and have five kids with an old geezer than spend the rest of your life in a prison. You’re not dense, you know how heavy your crimes are, having circulated in both the Underground and the surface for plenty years. Impressive of you, right? Makes it all the more fun to carry on.

That’s why they should just dream of catching you, because you’ll never let that happen.

You walk toward his immobilized body, movements slinky as you bend over to reach his face and deliciously run your tongue over his lips, tasting the seemingly nectar. As much as he wants to just grab you by the hair and kick your annoying face, he’s only able to lift his arms up a few inches before falling back down again.

It doesn’t escape your field of vision, reminding you to leave immediately. “Sweet, isn’t it?” you ask once you pull away, a sly smile on your lips.

“Why don’t we call it a truce, shall we?” you lastly negotiate. His lips are firmly pressed into a thin line and refuses to say anything. Steel grey eyes look back at you in annoyance. You tilt your head in curiosity. You know he has a lot going in his brain. This might be the last time you see each other, will he choose to keep those in?

Well, he does want you out of his sight right now before he regains his strength and kill you on the spot. He clicks his tongue in impatience.

“Just fucking leave, you lunatic,” he spits. You sure will.

“Gladly. Until next time, Levi,” you drawl and blow him a kiss goodbye, then strutting away in triumph, smile never leaving your face even if you’ve fully turned your back on him.

When you finally disappear, he lets out an exasperated sigh, contemplating his defeat. Nape resting on the chair’s rail, he looks up to the dark ceiling. A droplet of sweat slides from his forehead, which he manages to wipe away in no time, resilience overcoming the delirium.

Actually pondering about it, you’re a real witty one. Of course he was still going to take you with him eventually, he just hasn’t planned it ahead. Seriously though, a sneaky tactic. He massages his nose bridge, shaking his head.

What a crazy brat.

In the end, he decides to just pass on the work to Erwin about getting on the good side of the monarch and politicians, knowing full well he was in for some major explaining—maybe leave out the obscene details.

[magneticmage]

A Web of Betrayal

This is an excerpt from yet another fic I will probably never write. I have a lot of those. Anyways, enjoy!

Cw for sexism, plans of poisoning and Canon death of named characters. Also a discussion of how Orzammar's sex-based system is stupid and artifical binaries do not work in real life because nonbinary and transpeople exist. And enforcement of such a binary system hurts people who do not fit within its demands.

Valda Aeducan was lucky.

She was a princess in Orzammar. Daughter of the King and his noble Queen. Noble Caste and wealthy. Desirable and beautiful.

And yet she felt strangled in unseen webs at times for it.

She had seen her father's favoritism from a long time ago. He favored his sons, particularly his eldest two. It was not that surprising in retrospect, she supposed. Bhelen had been born from a casteless concubine-which had further soured her parents' then already-strained relationship. She had been born a woman, and thus should have inherited her mother's noble caste, not her father's royal one. But her mother had convinced the King to break from tradition for her daughter's benefit. Perhaps with the potential a future alliance of marriage could bring him.

The whole caste system was sexist, really. She had recalled the few times her cousin, Firenze, had broken down in her arms sobbing because they had not fit between their mother's noble caste and their father's casteless one since they did not wish to be male or female. Their brother, Rethan, had been assigned their mother's caste as a noble and he lived in fear for the discovery of his true self and being forced down amongst the casteless, to live in squalor and disease and refuse until he died. Both had gone off into the Deep Roads one day and neither returned. Rumors said that Rethan had escaped to the surface and Firenze had joined the Legion. But they were only rumors.

The caste system was killing them, bit by bit.

Even when one's gender did not affect things, one's caste certainly did. She was a noblewoman and was expected to be chaste and honorable. She had more bodies hidden under her stone caverns to be fed to her spiders and spilled more dwarven blood than quite a few members of the Warrior caste. She had been denied male lovers unless her father had approved of the match. Gorim was proof of that.

It rankled her. Coated her veins in venom and she was not surprised to find her growing disdain was matched with an increasing skill in actual poison and its antidotes.

She saw how Bhelen held the same doubts and frustrations. He was chided and ignored by their father, only gaining attention when he failed drastically. While she was praised for her own combat skills, it was because it was rare and often discouraged for women to become warriors due to the looming threat of broodmothers. Or so her father had explained when she had picked up her brother's sword to practice. She had batted her lashes and played on her father's soft spot as his only daughter and the family's precious jewel, to be safeguarded in Proving fights and not in true Deep Roads expeditions, when she was allowed to fight at all. She had been forced to maintain that image for years. She was as harmless as a nug as far as many nobles were concerned when really all she had been doing was weaving webs of influence and manipulating court intrigue to her family's benefit.

It had only been a matter of time before she had learned of Bhelen's ambitions. He had begun to be more reserved at family meals. But Trian was busy being groomed for heirdom and Barran-her own twin- was focused on both supporting their brother and learning the ways of war for the day he became Commander of Orzammar's armies. Whatever was left of them. No one else noticed the growing frown in their younger brother's expression. The faint hint of mockery in each laugh. The deep exhale of relief the moment he had a moment away from his brothers' shadows.

But she did.

And so she waited.

She did not strike when he took that lovely redhead as his lover. Trian had scoffed and demanded she be kept to her rooms like the dirty casteless woman she was. Barran had scowled and offered to find him a better match when he had time. Bhelen did not listen. Valda did not need to see the tender looks and small touches they hid before each parting to know how deep the affection ran. She even helped the woman by sending her gifts of food and small trinkets in passing over the years-always discreet, of course-and let her presume Bhelen had been the one to send them or whatever she wished to think of them. And her little brother did notice and gave her a questioning look between meals every once in a while after each present arrived. But she only smiled and went back to discussing the ways the various Houses were quarreling again as she cut delicately into her bronto steak.

She did not strike when she saw Bhelen begin to make moves in Dust Town. To ally with the Carta bosses to do his dirty work in exchange for some of the wealth and finer adjustments in life. Trian did not notice a few of his silver buttons went missing and blamed it on the servants as thieves. One poor girl had been beaten so badly that Valda had stepped in and offered the girl a new job instead of cleaning her brother's laundry: to make sure her spiders were fed. She had agreed and despite the healing wounds causing her some delay in being able to work, she had grown extremely adept at managing the caves and the spiders had learned not to harm the girl, even when she took a few of their eggs and venom for herself. Valda did not mind nor ask after her blatant thefts. Being a woman of any rank was hard enough when the men of the noble caste were as inconsiderate and selfish like her eldest brother.

Still she did not strike when Bhelen began to put his plans in motion. He had quietly orchestrated small quarrels between a few noble Houses, pitting them against each other in Provings to test his skills at coercing the upper classes. Barran had bested them all and drawn himself as a target after he ended the conflict through diplomacy. Their father had held a feast in celebration. Trian had all but secured Lady Helmi's daughter's affections by then, bolstering the traditionalists' favor in the Assembly despite Barran's rising own status and favor amongst the reformists and Warrior castes. Bhelen seethed over his wine that night. Until she had slipped him a note with the location of a warehouse full of food and medicine and scraps of old unused fabric and metal from her many, many gowns and armor. He had put the warehouse to use and it was empty within a fortnight, it's contents gutted and distributed amongst his followers.

He had thanked her but did not reveal his plans further.

But they both knew where the rot lay. And they both knew what measures would be needed to remove it.

Still, the entire system did not need to be torn down like he wished. Rebuilt and reconstructed, but not demolished.

So she struck at last.

It was the eve of the expedition and the feast was in full swing. Trian was complaining until his eye had wandered to some lovely noble women wishing to dance and flirt with the heir to the throne. Barran glowed with pride and swagger as he roamed the hall before disappearing with a pair noble-hunters, one on each arm. A third had been sent to Gorim's quarters and Valda did not pretend to hide her jealousy when the woman left with a smile later that night. Luckily, her handmaidens had been more than happy to help calm her anger by giving her tasks until it was time to move. She was still human, after all. She still held regrets sometimes.

If she were not who she was, she might have been able to have him. But the castes were absolute and the Assembly and her father and Harrowmont all valued tradition. Some more than others.

She was waiting alongside his concubine when Bhelen returned to his room, the two of them happily chatting about various skin and hair care regimes and the frustrations of the world's expectations with her future sister-in-law and herself. There was no doubt Bhelen would do anything for his loved ones.

And so would she.

"Sister, I....I did not expect you." He frowned and crossed his arms as he made his way across the room towards the two women.

"I know," She savored her last sip of wine for the evening before setting the glass down, "And I have a proposal, dear brother. I will be blunt since it is time we be honest to, at least, each other."

Bhelen's brows furrowed and the canny intelligence he took great pains to hide gleamed bright and open in his eyes then. "I'm listening."

"I know some of what you have struggled with these past years," She ran a finger around the rim of her glass, letting the sound breathe into the air for a moment before she continued, "Our struggles may not be the same, but we understand that our home is being destroyed by more than the darkspawn. It is being destroyed by ourselves."

Bhelen sat down across from her, gently taking Rica's hand and kissing her knuckles, "Would you mind preparing a bath for me, love? I need a moment to discuss some things with my sister."

Rica nodded and curtesied, "Course. My lady, excuse me."

Valda waved her off, "None of that, my dear. You will be Queen one day. Bow to no one but the ones you love."

Bhelen blinked in surprise and Rica smiled, as pleasant and easy-going as ever, "I will keep that in mind."

As Rica left the room, Bhelen leaned forward, fingers dipping out of view to no doubt reach for his knife sheath. "Queen, sister? Whatever gave you-"

"Honesty," She reminded him simply, "You and I both wish to change the face of Orzammar in our own way. And I believe we can help each other do that."

He leaned back and lifted his hand to stroke his beard for a moment. The gesture was so very much like her father and brothers that she had to bite back a swear. Bhelen, of course, noticed the slip in her mask and smiled, "Yes. Let's be honest, sister. Tell me how you wish to change Orzammar for the better."

"I believe you've had enough of listening to others tell you their goals, brother. " She smiled and set her hands on the table, palms up, "Tell me yours."

There was a pause as Bhelen seemed to weigh his options. Finally, he shook his head, "You will not help me. You do not have the heart for it."

"I have no more heart than you." She countered, "Our brothers are fools, my twin included. If they must be removed to ensure we get where we need to go, then so be it. That is what you planned for with that ex-warrior caste, isn't it? To move the Aeducan shield so you can set them up against each other."

He frowned, "Why would I wish them dead?"

"Because Trian does not respect you and would never change what needs to be done. Barran attempts to help but does not understand the causes of our sufferings."

"And what sufferings are those?"

Valda let her eyes drift towards the screen that separated the running water room of the bath, "You and I were not meant to be what we wish, Bhelen. Your ambition is to do better for the dwarven people, for your lover and your child."

He scowled, "You seem to know a great deal, sister. However did you come across such things?"

"People talk about interesting rumors all the time," Valda responded crisply, "Beyond that, we both know that I cannot name my sources without risking their lives, now can I?"

He chuckled and waved a hand, "You are such a spider queen, sister. If I did not know better, I would say you would much prefer the throne yourself!"

"No." She said.

There was a pregnant pause.

He arched a brow, "Truly? You could have all the power you wish. Any man you want. The Assembly would happily support you."

"The Assembly are old and do not speak for all of our people," Valda looked at her nails. The paint had chipped away a bit somewhere. "I wish to remove the caste system where it harms people. But I cannot be the one to do that."

"And why not?"

"I do not want power, Bhelen. I want people to be able to choose what they are in this world. What we Dwarves become. We cannot do that if a symbol of the old ways does that."

"Elaborate." His brows furrowed as he turned his head to the side to glance at the baths.

"Many people view me as either a copy of my mother or an extension of my brother as his twin." She smiled bitterly, "It is how I have managed to go unnoticed on my own all these years. So, no, I cannot be the one to change our people, but I can help the one who does."

Bhelen shook his head, "You want me to be King?"

"I want to help my brother," Valda corrected quietly, "Because I believe that he will do what he needs to in order to better help our people. All I ask is that I am listened to and my requests are accepted when I have them."

Bhelen met her gaze, "And what requests would you have?"

"A voice of my own to say what I wish, agency to decide things for myself be it marriage or other life prospects, and the dignity of any dwarf has been granted in your new rule."

"That's vague," He pointed out, "What will you do with these favors, if I grant them?"

"Serve our people by ensuring the old nobles do not interfere too much with your work, for one," She brushed aside her ringlets from her armored shoulders, "Ensure the casteless are fed and respected and the darkspawn driven back. Forge alliances and trade. All the same things you are already planning. And a few you haven't accounted for."

"Like?" He questioned.

"You'll find out eventually. You're smart enough, brother. And we promised honesty to each other." She held out her hand, "Now, do we have a deal?"

Bhelen glanced at her hand and seemed to think it over a moment longer. Then he clasped her forearm and they shook, "Very well, sister dear. I will do what you ask so long as you do not betray me."

[ponett]

Three novels down in my journey through Discworld! I’ve now read Equal Rites. As the first book not starring Rincewind, this one shifts its focus from wizards to witches, introducing another series mainstay, Granny Weatherwax

While it’s still obvious from the start that this is set in the same world as Rincewind’s misadventures, Equal Rites immediately feels like a very different book. It still has Pratchett’s comedic flair, but this book is incredibly earnest compared to the farcical tone of the last two books. At first, I was a bit disappointed that this book wasn’t as constantly funny as The Light Fantastic, but by the end I was deeply engaged by its more heartfelt narrative

You see, with this book, Pratchett has started to move from simple genre parody to satire. Equal Rites still pokes fun at fantasy conventions, of course, but at its heart is an examination of sexism and gender roles. It just so happens that this story is told through witches and wizards

The story begins when an elderly wizard travels to the rural town of Bad Ass (the story of how the town got its name is apparently interesting, although it’s never shared in the book). On the Discworld, the eighth son of an eighth son can perform magic and become a wizard, and so this particular wizard plans to pass his staff on to such a child before he dies. Except there’s a problem: after the wizard passes his staff on to the expected newborn, he realizes too late that the baby is, in fact, a girl. And then he dies, and the world is left with is first female wizard

We skip ahead about seven or eight years, and now the young Eskarina Smith wants to learn wizard magic even though she’s a girl. The book feels a bit like a young adult novel at times because its protagonist is a kid, although the narration makes it clear that the book is still written for adults. This is not the world seen through a kid’s eyes, but rather an adult’s commentary on how a kid sees the world. (The need to mark the book as for adults in spite of its young hero is also probably why the opening paragraphs reference sex, and why lots of jokes about adult things that go over Esk’s head are sprinkled throughout.) Esk is joined by Granny Weatherwax, the town witch who isn’t really related to her but is described as basically being everyone’s granny

For the first act of the book, Granny acts sort of as an antagonist (albeit a very mild one), teaching Esk the differences between witch magic and wizard magic and trying to stop her from learning the latter. Wizard magic is portrayed as being bombastic, changing the fabric of reality and shooting lightning bolts out of their hands and that sort of thing. Witch magic, on the other hand, is more in tune with nature. A lot of it could hardly be described as proper “magic” at all, actually--lots of knowing about herbs and home remedies and things. Another witch in the story reads palms and tea leaves, but most of her business seems to be selling some kind of homemade birth control concoction

As Granny puts it, a big part of being a witch is “headology.” Witches have to lean into the theatricality of their profession with the pointy hats and the spookiness and whatnot in order to be treated like witches, and that does half of their job for them. It makes people trust that the home remedies work, or believe that a witch could really curse them, or that sort of thing. Of course, Granny does also know quite a bit of “real” magic as well. The main power she uses is “borrowing,” the act of mentally becoming one with an animal--not quite controlling it, but rather “suggesting” its actions. This leads to some fun sequences throughout the book, including one where she borrows the “mind” of an old building said to have developed something resembling a consciousness over the centuries so that she can locate Esk within it

While there was a good deal of magic in the last two books (even if Rincewind, famously, cannot perform magic), the depiction of wizard magic in these books has already changed. In the first book, Rincewind explained that it took years of studying and a ton of effort to perform any task with magic, making a lot of it seem pointless. But here, with just a staff and no proper training, Esk figures out how to turn one of her brothers into a pig, and teleport her staff to her, and all sorts of other things. Of course, this isn’t some sort of CinemaSins ding or anything. The priorities of the books have simply shifted. In a pure genre parody like The Color of Magic, it made sense to say that magic was actually kind of stupid and pointless. Here, being a wizard needs to be desirable, because Esk’s whole arc is about wanting to become a wizard

While Esk does do well with her witch lessons, eventually it becomes clear that she’s going to start figuring out how to use wizard magic with or without guidance, and Granny accepts that she can’t change Esk. After a bit of a journey in which they get separated and meet several side characters, Esk and Granny make their way to Unseen University. (While Rincewind is nowhere to be seen, the librarian who got turned into an orangutan in the last book is still around. He’s apparently refused to be turned back into a human and is happier this way.) Esk is humiliated by the wizards and turned down, but Granny manages to get Esk a job there as a housekeeper so that she might be able to pick up some magical knowledge while hanging around

In the climax, Esk uses her skills to save a fellow student she befriends named Simon from some eldritch horrors that wanted to take over his mind, and as a reward she’s named the first female wizard. But she realizes that being a wizard is kind of silly, and she and Simon go off to develop their own type of magic (which, if I’m understanding correctly, involves a good deal of Not Doing Magic). In the action of the climax, Granny also manages to show the head of the school that witches know a thing or two about magic as well, and is offered a position at the university (although it’s left unsaid whether or not she took it)

Overall, I really, really enjoyed this one. This was the first book in the series that felt like it took its characters and their problems seriously, writing them as people to empathize with instead of just vehicles for jokes. The gender-based conflict is simple, but effective. I really liked that Pratchett didn’t lean into Esk being Not Like Other Girls. She actually still quite likes the feminine witch magic, and uses those skills to her advantage. It’s just that she also wants to learn wizard magic. It’s not about one being better than the other, it’s about the gender divide being silly. The book shoots down the idea that there must be some fundamental physical or psychological difference between men and women that means they’re destined to excel in different fields, which is honestly a refreshing thing to read in a fantasy novel from over 30 years ago

While it might be a little convenient that the head wizard of the university was swayed to be less sexist so easily, I do think the ending struck a good balance. Sexism is ingrained into wizard culture, so he’s still got some biases against women, and he’s only considering letting a few women into the school to start. He’s taking baby steps. Some might see this as a failure because he only got a little better, but personally, I find this much more believable than if the book had ended with all the wizards deciding that witches were their equals and the school quickly achieving a 50/50 gender split

People don’t quite change like that overnight. But this book does still believe that people can change, challenge their preconceived biases, and become better. And I think that’s what really sets this book apart from the previous two. It’s the first glimmer of those humanist Discworld themes I’ve heard so much about

(Also I laughed every time a wizard said women couldn’t study as wizards because it was “against the lore”)

So yeah, good book. Very good book. Pratchett’s style is already rapidly evolving And next, it’s finally time... for the first Death novel. I couldn’t be more excited

[targaryen-stronghold]

What’s worse about this shit show finale as a female fan is that I feel tricked because I used to think I was watching the rise of women to power on a patriarchal society when in truth this has been an incel fantasy all along. All those feminists’ critics of the show deserve an apology, they were right.

I heard you, anon. Many female fans feel this way and we are absolutely right and justified. I used to think so as well, but guess we were wrong, it was never about women navigating power, it was about demonizing women in power.  Actually, the only women who remained in power (Sansa and Yara) in the end were allowed to so do because (1) there was no one else (2) a man let them.  So whenever people say Game of Thrones is a “feminist show”, I have to laugh because no, it isn’t. At all. And Season 8 proved that.

Dan Weiss had the nerve to say about the critics on Season 8: 

It’s not really up for us to decide what people feel about it. Hope people watch and like it in the future. There’s no way to tell how things are going to be perceived in 10, 20, even five years. These things change so fast. The landscape of television changes so quickly, it’s changing as we’re standing here right now. It’s so gratifying to have reached this many people. I hope people a little too young to watch now will grow up to learn about it and watch it as well.

Is this guy fucking serious? Does he really think this show will age well? In a time where television and cinema are getting more progressive and representative of women, POC, LGBTI+, etc., he actually believes a show about white men in power and the demonization of pretty much every character that isn’t white or male will sit well with audiences?

1. Reinforcement of Sexist Tropes

Slovenian philosopher Slavoj Žižek from the University of Ljubljana Faculty of Arts did an whole essay on why Daenerys and the mad queen narrative is a strictly male fantasy. He’s one of the most important cultural critics of the century and an academic with years of research on Philosophy and Sociology so he knows what he’s talking about. 

Dangerous Characters has also written a very interesting essay about why Dany’s ending is such a toxic and dangerous narrative: 

Because in that moment, when Daenerys goes nuts, and becomes a wicked genocidal dictator who must be deposed, I am remembering her rape scene. Basic story logic: That was the beginning of her arc, this is the end, and we are being asked to see what has changed. It was a journey from powerlessness to power, but now we know this makes it a journey from good to evil, too. What you are telling me, when you make Daenerys a power-mad despot, is that it was better for her to be powerless. It was better for her to be on her knees, with a stranger’s dick forced inside her, than it was for her to be a queen. Power turns Dany bad, and her badness hurts everyone, so it was better for the whole world for that little girl to get raped, over and over and over, than it was for her to find her power.

Message: Women can’t be trusted with power

I also did a post about why “mad queen Dany” perpetuates sexist tropes and draw parallels with real-life women. But Dany isn’t the only female character who suffers with sexist tropes, it applies to pretty much every other female character in the series.

We also got:

Rape of women used as a plot device to make them “stronger” in both Daenerys and Sansa’s characters: as if it wasn’t bad enough that some people in this fandom refuse to acknowledge that Khal Drogo repeatedly raped Dany, Alex Graves referred to Ramsay as Sansa’s “love interest” when he was telling Sophie about her Season 5 arc, and Bryan Cogman called Sansa’s forced marriage and rape as “a hardened woman making a choice”;    

Fetishization of lesbians, bisexuals and women of color;

Perpetuation of violence against sex workers;

Internalized misogyny and constantly pinning women against each other: Arya “most girls are idiots” Stark, Cersei “I should have been born a man” Lannister and Sansa “men are easily manipulated (by women)” Stark; 

Perpetuation of toxic notions of womanhood such as upholding motherhood as women’s ultimate endeavor: villainous Cersei is redeemed because she’s pregnant and loves her children and is presented as a victim of the now-villainous infertile Daenerys;

Justifying and romanticizing domestic violence with Robert Baratheon slapping Cersei (actually erasing all the abuse Cersei suffered at Robert’s hands) and both Tyrion and Jon murdering Shae and Dany;

Vilifying of every women in power, except for Sansa (but even she was only allowed to take power over the North because King Bran let her);

And so on.

Yikes. My girl Sansa deserved better.

2. Validation of Racism and Xenophobia

The true heroes of the story - the Starks - live in an openly racist and xenophobic space and its habitants give the side-eye to (and literally run away from) the only black characters on the cast, providing us with gems like this:

And then Arya kind of forgot she befriended foreigner people in previous seasons.

Daenerys is not one of them because she’s neither a Stark nor a Northerner: she’s foreign, an immigrant, who doesn’t know the westerosi ways (something her haters like to bring up to justify why she doesn’t deserve to be queen of the seven kingdoms). Not only that but she mostly associates herself with black and brown people: her best friend, her advisors, her captains and soldiers. 

In the end, all this behavior is justified and validated because Dany has been the true villain all along and her armies have committed terrible crimes against the innocent white people of Westeros, especially in the capital. Meaning: the North was right in their prejudice against Dany and her armies. In the end, the Unsullied and the Dothraki return to Essos because there is no place for them in Westeros.

Message: POC immigrants are a threat to white people

I would say Game of Thrones dig it’s own grave.

[everyonewasabird]

@fremedon I’m going to move the conversation about Grantaire’s revolution rant to it’s own post! Hope that’s okay.

(beware, this got LONG, oh my god)

@fremedon said:

Coming back to Grantaire and “Preliminary Gaieties,” I’m thinking about that speech again in light of this post.

All the metaphors about God throwing a revolution to cover his bankruptcy are in service of a point that Grantaire also states in (for him) remarkably plain language–that as much as he would like for progress to occur smoothly and automatically, it doesn’t:

“What the rest of you call progress advances by means of two motors, men and events. But, sad to say, from time to time, the exceptional becomes necessary. The ordinary troupe suffices neither for event, nor for men: among men geniuses are required, among events, revolutions.”

He spends three pages circling back to the idea of revolution, and every time he lands on the same point–that it’s not only inevitable, but necessary; that the universe is badly made and God is unable to set it right without human action, which means revolution.

And then there’s this passage, which is kind of key to the whole thing (switching from Hapgood to FMA):

“Oh! By all saints of Olympus and all the gods of Paradise, I was not made to be a Parisian, that is to say, to richochet forever, like a shuttlecock between two rackets, from the company of loafers to the company of rioters!”

He introduces a list of loafers–the group he says he was born to be part of–ending with “a petty Germanic prince, furnishing the half of a foot-soldier to the Germanic confederation, and occupying his leisure with drying his breeches on his hedge, that is to say, his frontier.” This list balances Floreal’s banker, from the start of the speech–another idler in this vein, whose conquest of the grisette is explicitly equated with Brennus’s sack of Rome.

Grantaire wants to be idle; he wants to enjoy the appearances that God is trying so hard to keep up, but he’s seen through them; he understands that even the illusion of smooth social functioning that revolution and riot disrupts is still violent at every level, from the sack of cities to the defense of micro-states to Floreal’s poverty. He gets it, he sees the violence inherent in the system and he understands that any action to change will, under the circumstances, necessarily also be violent.

Philosophically and politically, he pretty much agrees with the Amis about how the world is and what it would take to change it.

And then he finally says the thing it’s taken him three pages and a bottle of wine to say, and that no one in the book has really said outright yet:

“And it appears that they are going to fight, all those imbeciles, and to break each other’s profiles and to massacre each other in the heart of summer, in the month of June, when they might go off with a creature on their arm, to breathe the immense heaps of new-mown hay in the meadows!”

They all know that just their political association, let alone the kind of organizing they’re doing, could on its own get themselves killed. They’ve been part of a network amassing weapons with the full intention of taking to the streets with them. They all know that if–when–it does come to insurrection, their lives will all be on the line.

No one talks about it. No one, before this point, ever acknowledges it out loud.

And when Grantaire finally does–in front of Joly and Bossuet! Who watched the funeral cortege go by and decided to have brunch instead! Who are very much on the side of Yes Do Notice the Flowers and the Spring!–what’s the response?

“Speaking of revolution,” said Joly, “it appears that Marius is decidedly amorous.”

“Does anyone know who it is?”

“No.”

THEY ARE SO DESPERATE TO CHANGE THE SUBJECT. THAT THEY RESORT TO GOSSIP. ABOUT MARIUS.

They don’t even HAVE any gossip about Marius! “SPEAKING OF REVOLUTION… … … OH HEY COURFEYRAC’S ROOMMATE HAS A CRUSH. On someone. Allegedly.” This is not even the “How about that local sports team” of subject changes. This is just flat refusal to engage with anything Grantaire has said.

In my headcanon, about 80% of Grantaire’s position as Resident Skeptic* comes down to this: that he sees as clearly as any of them do that their ideals, if taken to their logical conclusion lead to violent revolution, and that the chances of that revolution accomplishing anything significant are slim compared to the chances of their all getting killed. And that aside from Enjolras, most of them deal with this through flat-out denial.

Grantaire’s a depressive. He is Very Bad at denying unpleasant truths. He is self-medicating very hard just to be able to ignore enough of the world’s unpleasantness to get up in the morning. He works really, really, hard to see the flowers and the spring and enough of a bright side to go on with this life that they are all so willing to throw away on such a slim hope.

He really can’t get on board with just…hoping that the suicidally rash inevitable endgame will work out for the best. But the only one of them who appears to have any other coping mechanism is Enjolras, who conceives of himself as an instrument of war trying to make himself obsolete–whose metric of success is self-annihilation. Which I think Grantaire understands very well and wishes he didn’t.

*The other 20% is tied up with his objectification of Enjolras. In the very literal, “what a fine statue,” “Je crois à toi”  sense. Enjolras is an abstract concept? Grantaire’s a skeptic; Enjolras is a god? Grantaire’s an atheist; Enjolras is a statue? Grantaire’s an art school dropout.  If he can make Enjolras something other than a person, then he doesn’t have to take him seriously; he doesn’t have to worry about letting him down.

everyonewasabird:

Ooh, you and I are reading a LOT of things differently! Interesting!

So I don’t think I disagree about what Grantaire is saying but about how it lands: he’s wrong. He sees the problems of the world--and in his bitterness invents extra problems, like women marrying bankers, which is not an actual problem, Grantaire--and despair makes him think nothing can be changed. And Joly and Bossuet know he’s wrong.

On the “new mown hay” line--firstly, oh my god, Hapgood’s translatation of that is a travesty. That passage is gorgeous.

Here’s Wilbour:

“And it appears that they are going to fight, all these idiots, to get their heads broken, to massacre one another, in midsummer, in the month of June, when they might go off with some creature under their arm, to scent in the fields the huge cup of tea of the new mown hay! Really they are too silly.”

...God, it’s so beautiful. Anyway.

It’s worth noting that this passage is not like the rest of the speech. Grantaire was being racist and sexist and gross like a sentence ago, and he undercuts his own eloquence with “Really they are too silly” a sentence after. I think the magic in his spark of sincerely expressed fear and regret here is real! And I think Hugo and the brick feel that regret and that loss. But I don’t think Hugo and the brick agree that therefore it would be better to just not have the revolution.

About Grantaire you said:

He works really, really, hard to see the flowers and the spring and enough of a bright side to go on with this life

I don’t agree. I think Grantaire is trudging on with a life that fills him with horror and which he barely tolerates, and the one good thing he has are the people he surrounds himself with who actually do pay attention to flowers and spring and the bright side--like Joly and Bossuet, who keep making jokes for exactly this purpose. Like the joke about Marius and revolution!

It’s not that Bossuet and Joly value their lives less or are paying less attention to the cost of the fight than Grantaire is--it’s that they value the world more. They love their lives--hence their last, joyous brunch instead of the boring, rainy parade--and they love the world, and they believe enough in hope for the world that they will willingly and joyfully give those lives to fix it. That’s not the same thing!

I don’t read “speaking of a revolution, Marius is amorous” as avoidance at all--handling catastrophe with good humor is Joly and Bossuet’s whole thing. Grantaire is spiraling into despair that Bossuet and Joly don’t share, since they’ve committed to this fight and made their peace with it. So they redirect Grantaire’s collapsing despair spiral with the joke that Marius--whom they must think of as a massive prude, given, well, them--suddenly caring about romance constitutes a revolution on par with the one they’re planning. Honestly, I thought it was pretty funny!

I don’t think anyone is facing the revolution with denial--I’m not following where that idea comes from. It seems to me the Amis are brave and selfless and committed and good, and they see revolution as worth doing, and if they die in the effort, they see that as worth it. I think everyone but Grantaire is fully on board with that.

A LOT of my feeling that the text of the brick is adamantly pro-revolution comes from this post from pilferingapples, ostensibly about the Waterloo digression. This post seriously upended how I think of the revolution plot of the brick versus its weird bourgeois ending--honestly, it completely changed how I think about this book and just...books in general. I can’t overstate what that bit of meta did to me.

On Enjolras... oh wow, we’re seeing very different characters!

You say:

Enjolras, who conceives of himself as an instrument of war trying to make himself obsolete–whose metric of success is self-annihilation.

I definitely see the instrument of war thing! And I think he always saw the (possibility? probability? certainty?) that the world he fought for would not include him. But I don’t think his metric of success is self-annihilation. That might be Valjean’s, but I don’t think it’s his. I think Enjolras’s metric of success is the world being saved.

I think of Enjolras as the great moral victor of the story. Inasmuch as he has flaws, they’re about being too absolute and sublime, to the exclusion of all else. That’s not a damning flaw, and in embracing Grantaire he transcends it. Far from tending towards self-annihilation, he seems to me a character of nigh-superhuman resilience, too full of love for his friends and humanity and faith in a better world ever to break, under any circumstances. I don’t think his willingness to die is abnegation--I think it’s genuine love for the world and faith that even in defeat, he and his friends have moved humanity closer to a better future.

(I hope that wasn’t too combative! I’m happy to argue further! :D)

[almasidaliano]

Almasi for President

so in about 12 to 16 years, i am running for president. i do not believe the world will have ended then, though i do believe things will be different. hoping for better, not, not expecting worse. our system is broken. all of the systems are broken. the government is corrupt. the justice system is corrupt. those in charge are turning blind eyes, covering things up, and allowing the fall of our country. i will not be surprised if a civil war commences; although i'm also thinking they are going to really create and push for a purge. we are in real trouble then. that just goes back to what i said, are you standing for something or dying for nothing?

people were excited for biden to win. and i have to say, i was not one of them. biden seems like another puppet to me. obama was a puppet. he was his vp. crazy how biden is president and he has a black female vp now. that sounds like a win huh? wrong, she contributed to the failed prosecution of the officers who murdered Oscar Grant. that went over everyone's head during the election though. trump was just so bad had to get him out. biden is anti LGBTQ+. everyone wanted to put it on trump folks getting rowdy and such however, biden won and nothing changed.

trump's slogan was "make america great again." personally, i think he could have. trump's a businessman and to say the least, entertainment. they gave trump four years, why do you think they didn't renew his contract? because he was playing them. trump is a classist. he doesn't like poor people. personally, i think he just believes hardwork pays off, his did and so he just holds everyone to the standard he held himself. there are circumstances, however i think that's fair. he said all this racist shit everyone got mad. yet, he won by a landslide because the country said they would still rather this "bigoted, racist, sexist, classist asshole" than a woman. then the country complained the whole time. he exposed america and instead of society shining light and doing something they continued to do what we have been doing; pointing blame.

the system has failed us. the system failed us a long time ago. all trump did was present a call to action. the one thing i can give rednecks is they patriotic as fuck. they want the america they invision type shit. i feel like melanated people in general struggle with that because america never felt like home. america never wanted us here. but the fact of the matter is, this all we know. this is home now. there are 3 real options. 1. go back to where your bloodline stems. 2. sit and conform, hope they dont get you. 3. defend your rights, your home, and your people; come out on top or die trying. you have to pick something though. we have to do something because they those set to protect us are out to get us.

we do not have a democratic government not even a representative democracy like we once thought. sorry if you were today years old when you found out. we operate out of a republic; a constitutional federal republic. what's the difference? in a democracy, all that voting that we do, matters.  even if it was a representative democracy. we would have representatives to disclose our decisions. the electoral college makes final decisions on elections.

a constitutional federal republic means that the constitution which is the law of the land governs the land. if this is the law of the land, why do we have sub laws? the constitution needs to be amended. want to fix the race and inequality issues? let me tell you how, real easy fix. call a convention. take out any amendment that gives rights to people AND reword the beginning anyway folks see fit so that women and americans from all ethnic backgrounds get the same level of respect and rights. there will always be an unspoken division until things like that are rectified. before black people got rights we were not even counted as complete people, simply 3/5s of a person. life liberty and the pursuit of happiness. these are unalienable rights. my very existence guarantees me these rights.

the judicial system coupled with the criminal law system are hopeful, and still in need of reform. prisons are privately owned institutions, which are supposed to be forms of rehabilitation. instead, they are condemning people and treating them inhumanely; creating the same environment they were in on the outside, on in the inside conditioning them to be stuck in these ways as means of survival and then continue to place blame on them. officers need to take crimes more seriously. people are people, bias, prejudices, and profiling have no place in the workplace. officers are corrupt, arresting kids for selling, who just are trying to help their mother with the bills, then turning around and selling it back out on the streets. officers are wrongfully convictind and killing predominately (as far as the media is broadcasting) though not only melanated people. on top of that, they are walking free. lives are being lost and they arent even losing their jobs. tax dollars are going towards keeping them safe. however, if a civilian shoots a cop. up the river for them.

lawyers aren't fighting hard enough. especially defense attorneys. it is fairly simple to get a conviction with the right information, proving innocence is always a bit more complicated. the problem is that attorneys get too big eyed. they looking at how to get their clients off, accountability is another taboo in this society. there are a multitude of people who are innocent behind bars, as well as those who received heinous outrageous sentences. that is not right.

people factor more than necessary when trying to make a decision, yet they ignore the things that remind them a person is human. its this art contest over who can paint the best picture of the defendant. which story is easy for a jurors bias to sway? how people look matters. and it shouldn't. our government since the building of america, has created dividing markers.

just like with royal kingdoms, the wife couldn't have things of her own. her role was cleaning, cooking, taking care of the kids, and whatever else was asked of her. if there was a divorce, the woman got nothing. they had no rights. imagine being the first born as a female in a royal family and being told you can't have your kingdom, correction you can but you must marry to get it. then if you get married the new king running things not you. what is that? its called patriarchy. our government is run off a patriarchy as well.

so i never really believed there could be like a true separation of church and state because every law and decision made was based on people's morals and beliefs. there is supposed to be a separation of church and state yet, due to people's religious beliefs gay marriage had to get legalized, despite there being no law for heterosexual marriage. would that not make it illegal? since gay marriage had to be legalized though there was not a law for it either? then on top of that, how do you make it a law, and still for religious reasons, ministers and such can refuse? there are always stipulations and hinderances for the rights of those who are not white men.

ABORTION: i really do not know why we are still having this conversation. its literally conversations like this that have me looking at americans like--- seriously? once again there should be a separation of church and state. so religion cannot be a reason to outlaw it. how can you put out a law that dictates what someone can do with their body? all of life, i mean every part of life should be pro-choice. its just that simple. Pro-Choice. i am all for the right to decide for yourself. and men want to feel a way about women making that decision on their own. and while i do stand behind the fact that ultimately it is the womans decision, that does not mean she can't listen to an opinion. it is a part of the woman, literally grows inside of her an entire being. and fathers can just dip out and folks will just look at the mom and suddenly she should just become super woman. the pressure that comes with having a child is enough on its own. like thats a being that is dependent on you. some people are honest with themselves and know they arent ready or dont want it. all they need is support. the mental toll life takes on us is huge as well. still people do not consider that at all.

there is no point of incarcerating people, if they have still lost a chance at a decent life once they get out. jail is for rehabilitation. they go, do their time and then they are supposed to be allowed to try again. our government knows nothing of redemption, that's why all the top leaders go through so much to hide their dirt. they crucify civilians trying to make themselves seem superior, really they are just like you and i. almasi for president. im going to save the world.

-Almasi

[onwardintolight]

In which Onward rereads the Thrawn Trilogy and writes a massive review (and some other related stuff)

Alright, so I know I said that the characterization vs. plot thing in new canon vs. Legends was a rant for another time, but I’ve been thinking about it nonstop since and I really need to get a few thoughts out, so I guess this is that time, lol.

I’ve recently been diving into some of the Legends books for the first time in years. Partly because I’ve started listening to audiobooks and can get a whole lot more reading done in a day than I was able to before, and partly... well, I’m just curious to revisit it. I read a number of books from the old EU as a kid, and I definitely had mixed feelings back then. On the one hand, I was delighted—more Star Wars! Yay! On the other hand are the mixed feelings, which have so faded from memory over time that all I can remember anymore is that I didn’t like how the books portrayed Leia.

So anyway, I’ve been curious to give some of them a shot again, and see what I think now (all except COPL. I’m never going back to that one). I started with two that have come on my radar through the Han x Leia fandom, Tatooine Ghost and Razor’s Edge. They were wonderful! I absolutely loved Tatooine Ghost, especially. Razor’s Edge was super fun and had some truly fantastic moments (including some unforgettable shippy ones), but it felt more plot-driven than I tend to prefer (give me ALL the deep character stuff!). Despite that, I still loved it. I already own Tatooine Ghost and I plan to get my own copy of Razor’s Edge, too.

Then I decided to revisit the Thrawn trilogy. 

Oh boy.

Before I dive into that, though, I first want to say that I have many friends on here for whom the old EU is their Star Wars. I have the utmost admiration for you all, and I mean no disrespect. I support you in this being your Star Wars 100%. I’m not seeking to get into any big arguments or flame wars. In fact, I will put most of my ranting about Heir to the Empire et al under a cut, so please feel free not to engage if that sort of thing bothers you. 

Honestly, I’m a big fan of focusing on positivity in fandom, of focusing on what I love and not harassing others who enjoy things I don’t. That being said, I do support a good critique. I guess what I’m saying is that I’m not trying to force my views on anyone, but I can certainly express them in my own space and support other people’s right to express theirs in their space. What better space to do so than on my tumblr?

Before I go under the cut, I have one last question for my old EU stans. Based on my enjoyment of Tatooine Ghost and Razor’s Edge, and knowing I’m a particular sucker for character-driven stories, especially if they involve Leia and Han (and/or their ship), are there any other Legends books you’d recommend? Please let me know because I would love to discover more of that goodness!

Now, onto the Thrawn trilogy....

(It probably goes without saying, but major spoilers ahead)

.

.

Disclaimer: I’m sorry if I get some of the details wrong; I listened to the audiobooks and don’t have access to the books themselves right now so i’m writing out all these thoughts from memory

About Leia

So, it turns out that little me was right. Older me had the exact same reaction upon reading the Thrawn trilogy. What the heck did Zahn do to Leia? She seemed so diminished, shrinking. Hardly like Leia at all. If I had been reading a physical book, I would have been tempted to throw it numerous times.

First of all, she was set aside almost entirely for the first book. Despite the fact that the Empire was looking for Luke too, Luke got to be free and keep roaming the galaxy, doing his thing, and Leia was forced into hiding. If I remember right, it wasn’t really her choice (I believe it was Han who refused to take her no for an answer), nor did she argue it much. She just kind of followed the men in her life and let them do all the leading and galaxy-saving. Sounds a lot like Leia, right? *rolls eyes* Overall, she didn’t do much, and she didn’t have any part in the big climactic battle. 

(On another note this reminds me a little of one of Zahn’s new canon books, Thrawn Alliances. SPOILER ALERT: at a key moment, Thrawn pleads with Padme to talk with Anakin and try to convince him not to do something really terrible and disastrous that probably will result in people dying, and Padme basically just sighs, throws up her hands and says something like “It’s no use. When he gets this way no one can convince him of anything” and I just want to SCREAM BECAUSE NO THAT’S NOT THE FREAKING PADME I KNOW AND SERIOUSLY???)

Anyway. *calms down* 

In Dark Force Rising, Leia had a much more interesting plotline as she wins the allegience of the Noghri. I liked her better here, and she seemed a tiny bit more like the Leia I know. But it still just felt... lackluster. 

In The Last Command, she’s once again pushed to the side thanks to the men in her life making the decisions in the name of protecting her. True, I understand that for the majority of these books, she’s been pregnant, and so it’s not just about protecting her, but about protecting the twins. But that didn’t stop her from doing what she felt she needed to in Dark Force Rising. And in this book, she’s already given birth. Winter’s there; she can take care of the twins (as she eventually does). When the heroes assemble and go to Wayland for the big climax of the trilogy, she’s convinced by the men to stay behind (*cue me throwing imaginary book across the room*). Honestly, it felt contrived for the sake of the plot (she has to be there for what happens next) and more than a little bit sexist. 

She does eventually go, however, which made me want to cheer. I would have hated it way more if she hadn’t gotten to participate in the big last battle with C’baoth, particularly in light of the way the books had set her up as a Jedi-in-training (not very far along, but still). I was excited because surely this must mean she plays a big part in that, right? 

...She does not. She basically shows up and then gets trapped, doing hardly anything. Plot-wise, she’s pretty much there to provide an extra lightsaber and moral support of the Force-user variety. I’m glad she got to be there, but... yeah, overall, I’m really not happy with how these books treated my favorite character, and one of the actual main characters of the OT. It kind of felt like she was replaced by Mara, tbh. Which leads me to...

About Mara

Mara, like Leia used to be, is a very angry person, and for good reason. But her anger came off in these books as rather petulant and irrational. Once again, it felt a bit sexist. I hope I’m wrong, but the trajectory seems to be a trope that Leia has already been subject to (in ROTJ, as much as I love that movie, and with the job finished in this trilogy): Soften the angry woman. Make her pleasant and pliable and a little bit subservient. Legends fans, PLEASE tell me this doesn’t happen to Mara. I hope she continues to be a sarcastic, independent woman who takes no sh*t. I hope she loses none of her power, even as she loves and marries Luke. 

Mara had probably the biggest character arc of this entire trilogy. Unfortunately, that isn’t saying much. I really felt like her story had a lot of potential and could have been really compelling, but Zahn just doesn’t seem to know how to write characters with depth. In the end, her big moment of throwing off the Emperor’s power over her honestly just felt kind of contrived and shallow. Oh look, here’s a clone of Luke she can kill instead. That will magically make it all go away. Convenient. 

I wanted to love her. I think I probably could love her, if I read good fanfic. The problem is that the source material leaves all depth to the imagination.

About Everything Else

I mentioned that Mara seems to have the biggest character arc, but that wasn’t saying much. I had a lot of trouble distinguishing any other character arcs at all. The characters all seemed to be caught up in this big plot, carried along with it and deposited victorious at the end, without any obvious growth or change (except, again, for Mara). 

I suppose you could say that Luke learned to stand on his feet without the help of Ben’s Force ghost. But that was given such minor emphasis that I didn’t even think of it until this moment, weeks after finishing the book. 

Aside from my rage at the misogyny, I think this gets to the heart of why I disliked these books. The motivations and emotional/personal journeys of the characters are of utmost importance to me. To me, they’re the whole point. When a book is all plot and little character, I just... don’t care. It doesn’t feel real or relevant. It doesn’t show me that I can slay dragons, too.

I know that theoretically, I could imagine those character journeys. I could fill in the blanks in my mind, or through fic. I have a big imagination; I’m really pretty good at such things.

But tbh, when it comes to these books, I don’t even want to. To me, the plot itself felt pretty lackluster. I keep using the word “contrived” but it fits so well. Things happened and decisions were made that didn’t make much sense, just so the plot could go the way Zahn wanted it to. Now of course the same argument could be made for new canon (particularly, imho, the ST movies), but at least with new canon, there’s a deliberate and largely persistent focus on character. (And less sexism.) 

Other complaints: 

- I got sick of C’baoth in the first book. His villainy was not the least bit fearful or intimidating. His nearly prevailing over the heroes at Wayland felt more accidental than anything.

- Don’t get me started on stupid Bel Iblis and his stupid hurt manly pride that the women in power have to coddle and bow down to before he will lift a finger to help during a genuine EMERGENCY when he was desperately NEEDED (*cue me throwing the imaginary book across the room yet again*) (I think Leia would have had a few more choice words for him than she did in this book. They instantly presented themselves to my mind, at least)

- I can understand why Thrawn was such a big deal when these books first came out, but I think Thrawn is kind of oversaturated these days, and tbh I’m kind of sick of him (I’m going to blame the more recent canon Thrawn trilogy for that). While I like a good Sherlock Holmes mystery, I’m not too big on admiring that sort of “man as a machine” type character. Rationality is not everything, not by a long shot. It is empty and, frankly, shortsighted on its own. The best part about Thrawn’s story in these books for me was seeing him make mistakes (actual mistakes! yay!) and meet his end, perhaps in part due to that over-reliance on rationality and arrogance in his own abilities.

A few things I did like:

- another main female character, yay! Two if you count Winter

- I thought Talon Karrde was an enjoyable character and I’d love to see more of him

- I remember loving the vornskrs as a kid and a little bit of that adoration returned when I read this, bringing with it all sorts of happy nostalgia

- some parts of the plot were fun and exciting, and I could understand why they might feel iconic and Star Wars-y to others

Overall, however, I think Thrawn as a character kind of represents these books as a whole. It’s all very cerebral and practical. There’s art but it only serves the purpose of the rational. To me, these books felt like they were all mind, no soul.

I know that those of you who hold these books dear may disagree, and that’s fine. Honestly, despite my serious problems with them, I don’t hate these books. I might even read them again someday, maybe. I may be convinced to appreciate them more once I read people’s headcanons and hear what people love about it. So with that said, what DO you love about it? Where do you see these books’ soul?

[eeveelutionsforequality]

never-forget-viva-la-pluto said "@eeveelutionsforequality I’m not very familiar with European witch hunts, but you are right to say that it wasn’t simple sexism. It was sexism, racism, and mob mentality. The fungus may have been a factor, but this is still just a theory as scientists have yet to prove it. The first person to be accused was an indigenous Central American slave named Tituba. She was enslaved by the man who would later father the two children who would start the accusations of witchcraft."

never-forget-viva-la-pluto said "@eeveelutionsforequality that man tortured her into confessing witchcraft and forced her to give the names of many of the other women who were accused. She wasn’t killed for lack of evidence, but she was still imprisoned for a year until her owner sold her in 1693."

never-forget-viva-la-pluto said "@eeveelutionsforequality the whole hysteria started because two kids told their racist, sexist, asshole father that there slave Tituba was a witch who had cursed them, so he beat the shit out of her and anyone who he thought he could get away with punching. Point is, no one in the Salem witch trials were practicing witchcraft. They were always killed for being a woman, a minority, or because they opposed the oppressors in some way."

"I’m not very familiar with European witch hunts,"

So you're not very familiar with the actual topic at hand, but you're going to preach to me, someone who is, about what caused it because you've taken a miniscule case like Salem in isolation and refused to acknowledge 90% of the causal factors, along with refusing to acknowledge 90% of my answer. Cool cool.

"but you are right to say that it wasn’t simple sexism. It was sexism, racism, and mob mentality."

The only one you got right was mob mentality. People back then actually believed in magic, satan, and so forth. They believed certain people to actually be communing with the devil. The fact that they weren't doesn't mean that people didn't think that they were, including sometimes themselves. Just because witches don't exist doesn't mean that nobody was killed for being a witch. Yes, throughout history a lot of outcasts have been the poor, racial minorities, women, etc, but when religious paranoia takes over and people genuinely believe that people are witches, just because that targets the outcasts more doesn't mean that it was sexism and racism that motivated the actual trials themselves.

"The fungus may have been a factor, but this is still just a theory as scientists have yet to prove it."

We've got as close to proving it as we can. We know that the conditions were right for it to grow, and that a lot of events described align with both the hallucinations it causes and the other symptoms of it. We can't go back in time and whip out a machine in Salem to test their bread. That said, I said myself that "that specific example is thought to have been partially fueled by a hallucinogenic kind of mould that could've ended up in the bread", so don't act like you're the one teaching me that it's a theory when I said as much myself. That said, I explained a fuck tonne of the rest of the motivation myself and you ignored all of that.

"The first person to be accused was an indigenous Central American slave named Tituba."

So? A person being a woman and a slave doesn't mean that the accusation was motivated by sexism and racism, otherwise all of the men killed... well that was sexism against men! She was targeted because people believed in witches, it was religious paranoia. People often but not always accused, as I said in my comment, "the poor, vulnerable, and "weird", as well as targeting pagans who still held on to their old religions" because those were the people who either looked "suspicious", or who were outcast and thus had rumours spread about them, or who it was easy to frame, or who genuinely did believe themselves to be witches, and so on. However, there were times when wealthy people were accused, there were places where the vast majority of those accused were men, and none of that fits into your narrative. We know that it was because the bible literally says that witches exist, that they commune with the devil, and that they should be killed. People preached it in churches. People were paranoid and in a harsh world.

Also, research suggests that she was South American. You left out the fact that it's quite possible that she talked to these two girls about the occult - she wasn't a witch, but it's not out of the question that she was telling the truth when she said that she had heard stories when she lived in Barbados and she told the girls them. And you left out the biggest thing: Tituba accused others and her accusations were taken seriously. In fact, the similarities between various demon imagery and what Tituba described is part of what helped to convince the people in Salem that the devil was amongst them. She could well have been told to say that, but the fact remains that it doesn't sit well with your narrative if all of these sexist racists took the word of a non-white woman who was accusing white people of being witches. Oh, and you left out the fact that she was the first only in Salem, the witch trials had been going on globally, especially in Europe, for a fucking long time before that... Salem was near the end.

"Point is, no one in the Salem witch trials were practicing witchcraft."

Just because they weren't practicing witchcraft doesn't mean that they weren't killed for being witches.

"They were always killed for being a woman, a minority, or because they opposed the oppressors in some way."

You have even less evidence for that than there is for the bread. There is absolutely no evidence that these people were killed for defending minorities, there is ample evidence that religion made people believe in witches, and so these people became suspicious and paranoid. To them, being accused of being a witch was the same as being accused of attempted murder - sure there's no body, but the crime is very real and you could have done it. They took this seriously. The courts meant it when they said that they believed this person to be a witch. Are you telling me that you think that tens of thousands, potentially millions, of men, women, children, and animals were all out there rallying for women and non-white people, and that the entire establishment convinced everybody across Europe to pretend that they believed in witches, so that they could kill those pesky anti-racism cats, and nobody spoke a word about this massive cover-up?

Not to mention that you're going on about the men having "opposed oppression" because you can't even conceive of the fact that poor, old men, who were tortured to death for crimes we know now they couldn't have committed, are oppressed.

[kylendooleydesigns]

Hazbin Hotel and My Thoughts on Feminism

This review is in no way aimed at any one specific group or ideology. These are mere opinions that people can choose to agree or not agree with. I am no way trying to sway the minds of anyone who chooses to read this review, people have their own opinions and have the right to express them. Thank you.

First, let me begin with my thoughts on the "modern feminist", I'll get to what I mean by that in a moment. For now, let's start with what the definition of feminism is; Merriam-Webster defines feminism as the theory of the political, economic, and social equality of the sexes and the organized activity on behalf of women's rights and interests.

Now, with that said, I'd for everyone to pay attention to the word "equality". Feminism's roots can be traced all the way back to Plato and his classic Republic, where he advocated that women had the "natural capacities" that were equal to that of men for governing and defending Ancient Greece. (Olson, John, History.com) Ever since Plato's advocation for women's equal standing to men, women have been protesting and fighting for their rights to stand at the same political and economic point as their male counterparts. It wasn't until the late 18th and early 19th centuries when women were finally given their right to vote, New Zealand being the first sovereign state to give these rights to their women. After this revolutionary change, women joined in the war efforts of WWII, the Civil Rights movements, and began the Equal Pay Act of 1963, which still continues to this day.

Now, while I admit that the idea that the Equal Pay Act was created in 1963 and we are still dealing with the unfair distribution of pay between men and women, I'd like to bring up a personal point. My mother, who was born in 1963 mind you, has been working since her teenage years. She joined the military, got married, had a kid, divorced, remarried, and had another kid after her time in the military had come to an end, she fighting in the Gulf War before then. With only a military background and no college degree, my mom continued and still continues to work for the government through checking military helicopters for cracks to keep them from falling apart from atmospheric pressure. She's worked like this for over thirty years, seeing people come and go, men getting laid off or getting paid more than her fellow female co-workers. With that said, my mom actually gets paid more than most the men she works with, not only because she's the only one at her workplace who has the qualifications to do her line of work, but because she rarely ever takes time off. In fact, while she was pregnant with me, my mom refused to take maternity leave and went on working in this hazardous workplace despite the many objections of her male co-workers all the way up to my birth, my dad having to travel back and forth to see both my mom and me while he got our current house ready, meaning he wasn't always there to take care of her.

Years later, a female co-worker of hers got pregnant, took her maternity leave and when she got back, she found out a male co-worker had gotten paid more than her since her time away. She of course went off on her supervisor, but here's the thing: because she had taken her maternity leave and was unable to work, her male co-worker had to basically take on a double-shift and do the work she was in charge of, thus receiving pay for doing so.

Growing up in an environment with a mother who was a strong, independent woman after her divorce with a daughter and having to fight in an actual war that may or may not have lead to her sleep apnea and a dad who supported my mom from a different state while she was pregnant, I never saw there being that big an issue with the equality of men and women.

Now, I will say the unequal pay issue does get under my skin; however, the thing about equal pay and equal rights, is that women have to put in as much work and as much effort in their workplace as their male co-workers. Like I said, my mom worked while she was pregnant, thus getting the pay she deserved for the work she put in and her female co-worker who took  her maternity leave and got mad for the work she didn't do went to her male co-worker. I can only imagine how she'd feel about it if the co-worker was a fellow woman.

This brings up my issue with the modern day feminist. Back in the day during the early growth of feminism, the issue was about equality. Now a days, it seems that "equality" is being replaced by "superiority". Here's an example of what I mean, I have more guy friends than girl friends, and most my guy friends are huge gentlemen, always wanting to support and keep us women's spirits up, meaning they enjoy paying for their food and opening doors for them. One such friend was sweet enough to open a door for a complete stranger who happened to be an older woman. Instead of thanking him for his kindness, with no real care that she was a woman, she went off on him and told him that just because she was a woman didn't mean he had the right to treat her like some delicate flower. He was, rightfully so, very confused and a tad hurt. I, Original Fox, a woman, upon hearing this story, called her a "bitch". Here's the thing ladies, people who are nice and do things out of the kindness of their hearts do it because their cool people, they're not doing it to make fun of our physical differences.

With that said, my conclusion to the feminist movement is that I believe in equality, equality meaning we are all treated, act, and do things as equal beings, not one being above the other. I don't care who you are, what you identify by, what your background is, how you handle a situation as a person, or what issues you're dealing with, if you put in the time, effort, strengths, and fight to do what you think you deserve without blaming a certain group: men, women, religion, politics, whatever, I'm rooting for you. Don't listen to the racists, sexists, and closed minded people who want to bring your personal views down and prove to them without putting yourself at the top of the advocate pillar and saying you deserve better without even proving it.

Now, on with the review of Hazbin Hotel.

For those who don't know, Hazbin Hotel is a pilot two years in the making created by YouTube Animator Vivziepop or Vivienne Medrano, who is best known for her Die Young music video by Kesha using her Zoophobia werewolf character Jay Jay. The story centers around Charlie Magne, the princess of Hell, and her hopes to open a hotel for rehabilitating demons and sinners. This plan contrasts with that of the yearly "cleansing" where non-angelic looking angels come and slaughter the inhabitants of Hell to make room for more sinners. Wanting to find a less violent way of hindering this overpopulation, Charlie, along with her manager/girlfriend, Vaggie, and their first client, porn star, Angel Dust, must prove their cause will work in order to keep the Happy Hotel running.

When I heard of this, I was excited and had high hopes. I had been a fan of Vivziepop's work for a long while, enjoying her animations and loving her now on hiatus, Zoophobia webcomic, and when I heard a project she had a huge passion for was going to air a pilot with the help a whole production team, voice actors, and some genuine talent, I was at the edge of my seat and had anticipated the pilot being aired. Does it live up to all the hype? Let's find out!

Well, off the bat, I wasn't all too crazy about the opening. I had been, admittedly, overly excited for the pilot and was expecting something... Different. The opening is your basic musical opening where the main character sings while images of what the world is like moves about around them, which wouldn't be so bad, if the musical number was original. The opening song "I'm Always Chasing Rainbows" was written by Joseph McCarthy and was first performed by Dolly Sisters in the musical Oh, Look! When I found this out, I was a little disappointed. I was probably expecting way too much from this pilot, but at the very least, I was expecting a more original musical number written by the team Vivziepop worked with in bringing this pilot to life. But that's probably just a nit-pick on my part, like I said, I was expecting a little too much from these people.

After the opening, we're immediately introduced to everyone's favorite, slutty spider, Angel Dust and his sassy attitude toward people who want to slut shame him. What follows is what I can only describe as being a story on crack. Everything is shown to us super fast with little time to breathe and explore the setting we are in, which I can understand with Sir Pentious and maybe Cherri Bomb, but with just getting out of the musical number of Charlie singing about how her world isn't the way she wants it to be and being introduced to Angel through a "don't slut shame, because it's their body and no one else's", it just seems like everything happens way to fast and everything is thrown at us without really letting us appreciate what we're looking at, the news scene being no better as they zip through the report of the fight going on and the introduction of Charlie and her "passion project". Again, that may be a little nit-picky as I did have higher expectations.

It's here that I also would have liked to know what the two little demons that help Charlie with her second musical number were and what role they play in her life. I mean, they must be either her mom or dad's henchmen or "help" wherever Charlie's used to live, but I would have preferred they played a bigger role than just singing and playing their instruments.

The third issue I have at this point is the use of sound effects. Again, a little nit-picky, BUT, I feel the use of sound effects with every movement and moment a character is on screen is a little too much. It doesn't help that the soundtrack never shuts up. Music or a sound is always playing, never allowing for us to take in what the character is saying on a more complex or understanding level. The only parts that are quiet are the limo scene and the Charlie calling her mom scene, which are honestly two of my three favorite parts because we get to see and meet these characters, understanding them and their personalities, as well the relationships they have with each other. Except maybe Charlie and Vaggie's, but I'll get to that later.

I enjoy the relationship Charlie does have with Katie Killjoy (in fact I enjoy Katie's relationship with Tom as well), the only critique I have here is Katie's "I don't touch the gays. I have standards." This just seems to be an add-on to make us despise Katie as a character, because of her views on the gay community, basically saying homophobia is a bad trait of a person and makes a character more of a villain, which I've known homophobes. They're not evil, they've just been raised in an environment where being gay isn't the norm and, in a strict background, "the gays" is a mental illness that can be easily taken care of through the proper therapy. As for Katie's "standards", again, this doesn't mean she's a terrible character. In fact, look at it like this, it's an adult cartoon and the jokes are meant to make you laugh, not judge a certain group in a cold and harsh way.

However, Charlie's relationship with the people of Hell as their princess and heir to the throne, I find a little off pudding. I'm sure there's some kind of hidden meaning to how the royal family is treated as celebrities over that of rulers of a certain area, but for now, I'm just gonna nit-pick a little more. My opinion on princesses in the media is at a bit of an all time low. Ever since the birth of the Disney Princess Trope, the views of a princess in any form in the media has been to hate being a princess, sing about how much it sucks to be a princess, remain princess when it's obvious they're no longer a princess and should take the title of Queen. Charlie is sadly part of this trope, the only good part of this being that no one but her girlfriend takes pity on her. What I mean by this is that Charlie shows signs that her father has high expectations of her becoming the heir to Hell and taking rule in his place as the future queen, making her status something to sing about how much that sucks, of course her dreams contrast with that of her father's expectations, like most Disney Princesses. That being said, I'm not exactly sure I see the purpose of her being the princess of Hell when no one treats her as one nor do they seem to care that Lucifer is her father, other than to make her relationship with her father strained, which isn't bad don't get me wrong, but there are other ways to work that subplot in without adding the title of princess to her name.

After the whole fight scene, we get the scene where Vaggie goes off on Angel for making the hotel look like a joke. This coincides with my issue with the whole feminist aspect and her and Charlie's relationship, so I'll get to that later. But I like this part because of the quiet moment we get, so there we go for whatever that was.

When the trio gets home, I do like how we see a subtle hint to the fact that Angel does want to reform and go to Heaven and escape his abusive sugar daddy by how he makes a crack at the lack of food to feed all of the non-existent souls and immediately feels bad. Of course, you can't force change on someone in the blink of an eye, so I give him a pat on the shoulder for not knowing how to apologize for his assholiness.

This then leads us to the calling mom scene where we see Charlie struggling to prove her father wrong and asking her mom for advice for feeling this way. From what I can assume either her folks are divorced, her father is dead and Lilith is in charge of Hell, or Lucifer left that part of his family to marry Narissa from Zoophobia and had Damian. I mean in the opening we see a shadow of Lucifer taking the shape of Zoophobia's version of the Devil, so that's my fan theory and I'm sticking to it! And before people say that's impossible, if that's the case, then Charlies is no longer the heir to the throne, but here's my response to that: Charlie was born first and is the daughter of Lilith, who I'm not gonna get into, because this isn't part of the review, therefore making her take the throne before Damian by political standards. Anyway, this scene was fine, I wish there was more info on exactly what her relationship is with both her parents, seeing as they never make a real appearance in the pilot to show their personalities, but I'd also like it if there was a main character whose relationship with their parents isn't severed because of the character's dreams, a strict family, or dead.

And then HE comes into the picture. THE one character I lost my mind over. Alastor, the Radio Demon!!! I LOVE this character! While I'm sure most fans find Angel to be their favorite character and don't get me wrong Angel is awesome, Alastor is what has me hooked to the show. To compare him to Charlie, Vaggie, or Angel, Alastor, in my opinion, is an optimistic pessimist, something I find myself as being on a daily basis as I too find good entertainment in the destruction of others as they fall into the fiery pits of failure. Not only that, but each moment he's on screen there's this mysterious vibe about him with his permanent smile and his end goal in helping Charlie, something I find rather attractive of my demon... I mean... Men. His interactions with the other characters is fun, he's got a classy excitement to him, wanting to provide and receive entertainment in the most morbid and old times of places. His version of "Inside of Every Demon is a Rainbow" is a hilarious change to Charlie's cheery, uplifting view of her people, his version being a look at the souls in Hell as lost causes, their punishments being eternal, there being no escape except for the life they've lived before and the agony they have to face now is bliss. His take down of Sir Pentious was like a huge "bitch please" which was absolutely wonderful, from his power to his facial expression in the end.

With that said, is this pilot flawless...? No, absolutely not, far from it. There's some things, like the soundtrack, the opening song, and the sound effects I'd think about doubling down on and allow us to take in the world we're being introduced in to. If someone came into this show completely blind, they'd probably be a tad confused as to what's happening and why. Fans already know Charlie is an overly optimistic demon spawn, Vaggie is a pessimistic feminist with no care for men, Angel Dust is a cross-dressing spider who enjoys being the "bad boy", and Alastor is a deer with a need for endless entertainment. People who don't know VivziePop and her work, won't know/care much about these characters going straight in and will most likely like to explore the world and its why.

And now, the coup-de-gras: my one issue with this pilot and what it seems to be shoving down pessimistic people like me's throat. Women rule and straight men suck. Do NOT quote me on this. I do not know Vivienne or the people she worked with to make this pilot. This is MY opinion after having watching the pilot, listening, reading, and following the creation of this show from the beginning. They can correct me on this in future episodes or deeper dives in to characters and development.

So, off the bat, we're introduced to a male gay character who dresses like a woman and is slut shamed by everyone except his friends who have similar views as he does. In my opinion, this doesn't work for me. I get wanting to "represent the minority"; however, the depiction of straight, heterosexual characters slut shaming or having sexual encounter/feelings toward said character with cruel intentions to bring someone down isn't something I see as a good representation. Granted, there are several people out there who will make a person feel like shit for having views that do not conform to what society deems as normal, but in today's world, where media and the children of today are exposed to these views, the "minority" becomes the majority. I get it, life sucks, oh darn, well then fight for equality, don't fight to make straight cisgender community seen as the closed minded community that doesn't give a damn. There are plenty of cisgender heterosexuals who support the LGBTQ+ community and have no problem with anyone who doesn't fit the old views of the world. It just seems, from what I've experienced, that if you're a straight, cisgender human being that has no real tie to the Pride Movement, you're a homophobic monster who takes the side of all the haters. That's not true, we just aren't playing for the same teams nor do we believe we were born in the wrong body.

Next is Charlie and Vaggie's relationship. Don't get me wrong, having a gay lead is no skin off my nose, if anything, I don't give a damn what their attracted to. If their a good character and have good development and don't let their sexual identity get in the way of their goals, I'm good. But when it comes to Vaggie and Charlie, there's just something I personally find "off". For one, VivziePop actually brought this up in a Tumblr post in response to another about how they didn't like the idea of Charlie and Vaggie being a canon couple because it'd just be another way of representing the gay community through the media's abuse of showing how open minded they are, to this VivziePop revealed that Vaggie and Charlie are indeed a couple, but she'd rather not focus on their relationship and instead focus on the story. But upon the pilot's release, their relationship is already put a slight focus on from Katie's "I don't touch the gays" afterwards touching Charlie who Vivzie revealed may be a Bisexual characters having dating a male character in the past and to the overly cutesy peppy girl and her overly protective, pessimistic girlfriend. I honestly don't care about whatever relationship these two have, so long as it doesn't effect the plot in a negative way, one example being that they fight, break up, and get back together through some TV show bullshit that has little to do with the rest of the show's running. This show is about getting demons into Heaven, it's not an after school soap opera.

This brings me to Vaggie's character as a whole and to her views affecting that of the central tone of the show itself. Vaggie is clearly a feminist, this being brought up when Angel reminds her that she doesn't seem to trust any man, any men... Men. She punches a guy who calls her girl a bitch, gets angry at Angel only when Charlie screwed up too by both singing and getting in a fight with Katie when Vaggie specifically told her not to sing as what they were doing was serious, refuses to trust Alastor without allowing him a second chance, something she is helping Charlie to achieve and support despite Charlie herself being open to helping Alastor understand where she's coming from, and calls the hotel a "man cave" just because Husk gets a bar in order to keep him working at the hotel. I get it, alcohol is somehow a sin to the hotel, most likely because it can lead to drunkenness or sloth and gluttony, but that doesn't make it a brothel or a man cave. In fact, she doesn't seem to argue having Nifty, a female character as part of the staff as she just zips around cleaning, but here's the thing about Nifty: it's clear she's straight and how they portray how straight she is contrasts with the other female main characters. Nifty is boy crazy and a clean freak, being confused as to why the hotel is such a dump when everyone living there is ladies, not knowing Angel on a personal level yet and wonders where all the men are. This to me, is a stereotypical straight cisgender female: wanting to clean, make new friends, and meet some men. Being a cisgender, straight, female myself, I can tell you, that's not who I and I hope some other girls are. I've never been much of a clean freak or boy crazy, in fact I'm a bit of a slob and don't really give two shits about men; I've honestly got more important things to concern myself with than over getting a boyfriend. Nifty is a fun character and I enjoy her place in the show, but I would have liked it if Vaggie immediately wanted her out of the hotel as she did with Husk and Alastor, showing some God damned equality as a feminist and if Nifty was a little less concerned about gender roles and having men around. Depicting feminism is fine in media, but don't go overboard with it. Make some straight, cisgender males actually great people who support the ideals of women and don't want to see them fail, show the equality we as women fought so hard to achieve, by making the roles of men and women equal, not one gender being better than the other morally. Alastor is a great character, but he did slap Vaggie's ass, which was unneeded, but I'll admit I found that hilarious. I can only hope Alastor is only fucking with Vaggie and her views on men and turns to a pretty awesome guy who, while not believing in her cause, supports Charlie anyway he can.

All in all, I loved this pilot and see great things coming its way, I just think things could be tweaked and lessened down to be less of a huge middle finger to certain groups of people and less of an Ed, Edd, and Eddy soundtrack of unnecessary sound effects. I'd recommend this pilot to anyone with a passion for animation and wanting to put something you've worked years for to give them that jolt of ambition. If you're bothered by too many loud moments, less quiet moments, too many jabs at the heterosexual cisgender community, and lots and lots of sex jokes, this probably isn't for you. Check it out on YouTube and give it a try.

P.S. to those of the religious community, me being part of it, if the version of this Hell is off pudding and isn't how it should be depicted in comparison to that of the biblical version and it offends you, I suggest either ignoring the pilot completely and its growth, or you can see the horrifying reality behind it... It's... An... Adult... Cartoon!!! *collective gasps* for more information please check Family Guy, South Park, and, I know I'm dating myself here, but literally every episode of the Simpsons ever.

I hope I didn't offend anyone with this rant/review. These are just my personal views and should be taken with a grain of salt.

Eat chocolate.

Imma take a nap!

[crowsbabies]

i  am  rewatching  good  girls’  season  two,  the  four  first  episodes  and  i  just.  can’t.  i’m  so  grateful  for  this  show  &  i  can’t  believe  not  more  people  actually  watch  it.  like  ??  guys  !  there  is  everything  in  good  girls.  i  know  we  have  brio,  which  should  bring  more  ppl  to  watch.  but  we  also  have  diversity.  sm  of  it

the  hill  family  for  instance.  all  of  their  interactions  are  pure  gold.  we  have  stan,  who’s  a  black  policeman  and  the  best  character  in  this  whole  damn  thing  bc  he  just  wants  to  be  good.  he  believes  in  justice,  but  he’s  not  above  doing  a thing  for  his  family.  and  god,  i  love  him  sm. 

but  we  also  have  jimmy,  and  yes  we  don’t  really  like  him  bc  he’s  a  member  of  the  fbi.  but  if  you  watch  him  in  s2,  you’ll  see  that  jimmy  has  a  boyfriend.  he  has  no  use  whatsoever,  and  they  could  have  decided  to  put  a  white  lady  for  that  little  scene.  but  instead  ?  instead  they  chose  a  black  man.  and  i  mean,  isn’t  that  what  we  want  ?  for  m/m  couples  to  be  seen ? 

and  don’t  get  me  started  on  the  feminist  aspect  of  the  show.  there  is  a  rape  storyline.  there  is  beth,  trapped  in  a  marriage,  her  sexist  husband  refusing  to  let  her  go.  we  have  beth,  who’s  trying  to  figure  out  who  she  is  outside  of  her  mother/wife  persona.  and  it’s  !  so  !  good  !  because  we  never  see  this  aspect.  

and  like,  when  i  sold  the  show  to  my  family,  i  immediately  told  them  that  there  were  women  writing  it,  and  it  showed.  and  my  step - father  did  not  understand  what  i  meant;  well,  what  i  mean  is  that  we  see  women.  real  women.  exhausted  women.  horny  women.  women  who  are  mothers,  and  wives,  yes,  but  also  human  beings.  

we  have  annie,  for  instance.  she’s  not  a  grown - up.  but  she’s  trying  hard  to  be.  and  it’s  difficult,  and  it’s  messy,  but  she’s  learning.  and  damn  !  we  need  more  women  who  get  to  try.  because  in  shows,  women  are  always  the  ones  with  their  shit  together  helping  men  get  theirs.  well,  not  here.  here,  annie  tells  greg  that  they  can’t  be  together  bc  he  has  things  to  work  on.  annie  tells  him  that  they  both  need  to  grow  up.  i  loved  that  scene  sm

and  ruby  !  god,  ruby.  i  love  her  sm.  she’s  just  ????  so  good.  she’s  trying  to  do  what’s  best,  and  she’s  doing  it.  and  she’s  so  damn  brave,  and  loyal.  she  loved  that  scene  where  she  took  credit  for  her  little  girls’  chance  in  life.  bc  she’s  right  :  it’s  not  god,  it’s  not  a  miracle, it  was  her who  made  a  really  hard  choice  for  the  sake  of  her  family.  and  it  happens  sm  for  women  to  not  get  the  credit  they  deserve.  and  like,  it’s  not  the  most  important  thing  but  retta  does  not  look  like  your  usual  hollywood  actress.  (  none  of  them  do  )  and  it’s  amazing.  because  we  get  to  see  real  women,  beautiful  women  on  television.

anyway,  idk  what  you  guys  are  doing  if  you’re  not  watching

[lilithmedium]

On Spirits, Gender and Free Will

Many of my most recent asks and DMs have revolved around how Lilith relates to men and women, either trans or cis. I have mentioned before my experience of her preferences. This was condemned as “unfair” by some, as apparently I am supposed to be able to sway the opinions of an ancient supernatural force to modern concepts of sex and gender.

Lilith’s relationship with humanity was first defined when excruciatingly sexist men started telling stories of her as an originally equal being to man who suffered forced subordination, attempted rape, curses, exile and the mass murder of her children. This, as well as her subsequent demonization down through history, told her what male humans think of her. That was her first contact--a whole ton of slander told about her by men to serve patriarchal ends, first in Babylon and then among the Israelites. Her whole existence was turned into a cautionary tale for and about insubordinate women.

Because of this, she is skeptical of men, and she has the most sympathy for and connection with women who actually are oppressed on the basis of their biological sex. Trans women are not last in line in her eyes, but they’re not first in line either. Apparently not being first in line for everything makes a lot of trans women incredibly angry. But calling Lilith transphobic is about as dumb as calling Danto racist or Diana sexist. Not all spirits have a special connection with every population of people. That’s just how it is.

When a trans woman comes sailing in and says “I’m a woman on the inside, I qualify, I should get everything other women get”, she is in a lot of cases absolutely correct. Human rights, basic respect, medical care, the right to live in peace--her personhood is not predicated on the bits she was born with. But she is not “automatically entitled” to Lilith’s favor, because only Lilith decides who she gives favor to. And Lilith naturally tends to favor those whose life experiences parallel the specific hell that male human stories about her describe her being put through.

Lilith favors those who have suffered under sexism their whole lives. Trans women have not; they spent a significant chunk of that time being treated like a male by those around them. Probably a male abused for being “too feminine”, but a male nonetheless. That doesn’t invalidate who they are or what they have gone through, it just points it out as a different experience from that of people who grew up in sexism’s cage. It’s that simple, and it’s Lilith’s choice--not mine. (So you can stop with the death threats. They’re pointless).

It all boils down to this. Either you accept spirits as intelligent entities with power, agency, preferences, prejudices, cultural associations and a living history of interacting with humans, or you’re not going to be able to work with them with any real effectiveness. 

If you think that the Powers should answer to your expectations of what they should be instead of being what they are, you will fail in your relationships with them.

As an example, I as a white woman cannot approach a spirit from African diasporic tradition and expect the same automatic acceptance as one of their people. I will always have to work to prove myself harder to any spirit from another culture, I cannot automatically expect acceptance from them. Since my culture colonized theirs, I can fully expect, and have no right to complain, if those spirits are wary of me until my little white butt proves myself to their satisfaction--and they decide when that is, not I.

There is no appropriate, respectful way to gain a spirit’s favor unless you do things on their terms. I could stamp my foot and whine “But WHY doesn’t Ezili Danto accept me as Her child automatically? I know even her own people have to put in serious work to develop a relationship with her, but I’m special!” but it won’t get me anywhere. It may even piss her off. That’s...really bad.

If you approach a being like Lilith with some airy expectation of perfect benevolence and an embrace of twenty-first century egalitarianism of all souls, you’re making two mistakes. You are expecting automatic no-effort acceptance from a being who needs to be won over, and you’re expecting her to conform her attitudes and practices to what you think they should be. Which is ridiculous.

If you can’t figure out why this won’t fly with a powerful spirit who is well known for refusing to subordinate herself, you either don’t really believe in her as an independent entity with free will, or you’re a raging narcissist.

[lgbtqtruestories]

Piers Morgan - World’s Biggest F*ckwit and Shame of British Television

Greetings.

It’s been a while since I have had a rant on here/posted anything at all, so here I am! Today, I am going to be discussing one of the most vile, repulsive cretins to ever grace our television screens. A man who I not only despise, but believe is a genuine danger to society. That man is Good Morning Britain presenter and all-around fanny, Piers Morgan. Who is that, I hear you ask. Well, ladies, lads, variations thereupon, buckle in because once I tell you about comments he has made in the past, I think you will hate think you will hate the ignorant hunk of fecal matter just as much as I do. 

He REFUSES to accept non-binary as a valid gender identity

Good Morning Britain is famous for its debates, one being the ‘gender debate’. The show is equally famous for Piers being uneducated and refusing to admit when wrong. When two non-binary individuals, (Fox Fisher and Owl Stefania), came on the show, Piers acted in his usual manner, that being less intelligent than the average 4-year-old. He said, quote: “If I identify now as anything… can I be anything I want? Can I be an elephant? Can I literally say I’m now an elephant and do I get afforded elephant rights? Can I go to London Zoo and demand to be put in an elephant compound because I have decided I’m an elephant?” I wish I was joking but alas not. WHAT EVEN---! Learn about this thing called the gender spectrum! Then learn to be a decent and kind human being with more than three brain cells! After this whole ordeal, the legend known as Sam Smith came out as non-binary. Piers had some things to say about this because of course he fucking did. “I’m now identifying as Sam Smith so I can get his royalties. It works both ways.”His co-host Susanna Reid, who I feel endlessly sorry for asked: "Why do you care? “He has millions of fans," Piers went on. "What are they supposed to think?” Dirty, dirty clown man. 

2) He is disregards mental health issues

I AM NOT JOKING!!! HE ACTUALLY TWEETED THIS: “34 million UK adults are mentally ill? What utter nonsense. Man up, Britain & focus on those who REALLY need help.” You sick, patronising, twat! So you’re telling me, Piers lad, that people who suffer daily, who fight to survive, who have to walk around daily with agonising pain, who are real fucking warriors with bravery and determination that need help to regain a positive mental state, YOU are telling me that those people need to “MAN UP”? Rot in hell, you pathetic son of a bitch. Waste of good sperm cells has also been sceptical about people who suffer from Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder (or PTSD), particularly Lady Gaga and Will Young, who have both previously struggled with it. Being the professional mental health mastermind he is (obvious sarcasm), Piers has said that Will has never suffered with PTSD but instead what he calls WNTS (whiny needy twerp syndrome). 

3) Piersy was annoyed after Ewan McGregor responded in a logical way after he was a sexist prick

Back in January of 2017, Mr Morgan had some things to say about the Women’s March. He notified everyone that he would be organising a Men’s March to “protest the creeping global emasculation of my gender by rabid feminists”. Aw, look at that! He’s using big words to pretend the Satan’s edjaculate sprouting from his mouth is logical! His views caused Ewan McGregor, Scottish actor and my new hero after this refused to go on the show as planned. Predictably, a twitter rant and a Daily Mail column ensued.

Do you see now why I believe this man could damage young minds with the shit he talks! The pigeon lady from Home Alone 2 who believes he is supreme ruler of the universe and speaks gospel truth always is telling the viewers of British breakfast television that if they are non-binary they are ridiculous, that if they struggle with their mental health that they need to man up and that if they are feminist or god forbid, don’t support Donald Trump then they are rabid. Thankfully, he has been on a break from GMB for summer and won’t return to our screens until 2nd September. We have until then to get him banned from every form of social media to ever exist! Please do your own research on this man as I have summarised his arseholeness greatly. Keep your minds open kids and don’t believe what the idiots like Piers on TV tell you!

~ Gabby xox

[jaywrites101]

Jay Reviews: Captain Marvel

Higher, Further, Faster. Emotions are a weakness, or are they? Today at JayWrites101 we're looking into the cinematic adventure that is Captian Marvel. Critics everywhere are pitching in on this one, giving it reviews ranging between Masterpiece and Disaster with very little room for leeway. How accurate are those reviews? Let's find out together.

The purpose of this review is not to promote, nor offend. We're here to break down The Good, The Bad, and The Strange to find out what makes this movie so unique.

Spoilers ahead.

Medium: Movie Genre: Superhero, action, drama Premise: A superpowered woman with amnesia must find out the truth of who she is so she can stop an interstellar war from destroying her homeworld.

My, that's such a simple premise, isn't it? Boy, the context of this premise changes dramatically. Our Protagonist, Vers, starts off as a Kree soldier fighting to protect Halla from the Skrulls, big green aliens with the power to shape-shift into anyone. As more information is revealed, she ends as Carol Danvers (not to be confused with Karra Danvers, DC's Supergirl) a human pilot who absorbed a fraction of power from an infinity stone whose mission is to protect Earth from the Kree as they try to use her to take over the galaxy.

It's funny how the entire plot reverses itself completely, but the basic premise never changed.

Plot: We start off learning about Vers, as she and her team gears up to rescue a spy whose cover has been blown. The mission turns into a complete fiasco when the spy turns out to be a Skrull in disguise. Vers is captured and "interrogated" using some kind of mind-reading technology. Thing is, she's remembering stuff she couldn't possibly have remembered. Things like getting chewed out for crashing a go-kart, or falling while doing a military course. Vers manages to escape her captors and flee to Earth. After contacting her team, she joins forces with Nick Fury, an agent of S.H.I.E.L.D. who's thinking about putting together a task force to protect the Earth from major threats. Not a bad idea, that.

Together they investigate the fragments of memory that Vers recalled from her capture, all while being chased relentlessly by Skrull agents who also made it to Earth. Vers eventually finds a friend who knows the truth and learns that she is, in fact, Carol Dan-vers, a human. Before this revelation has time to sink in, the Skrull offer a flag of truce. They reveal that they're not a military force, just a few survivors trying to hide from the Kree who hunt them relentlessly. As proof, they offer Carol a recording of the incident that robbed her of her memories where it's shown unarguably that her teammates, the Kree, deliberately captured her to find the Tesseract, a device that holds an Infinity Stone, and accidentally gave Carol her powers when she tried to destroy a device that used that energy.

In the end, Carol and her new friends are captured by the Kree and Carol realizes the device she believed was giving her power, was actually suppressing her powers. She destroys the device and becomes Captian Marvel, a superbeing whose massively undefined powers include energy blasts from her hands and flight. Powers that allow her to tear through a Kree spaceship like it was tissue paper. If you've watched Guardians of the Galaxy Vol. 1. then you know these things are no joke, but Carol destroys one in three seconds flat by flying through it.

Bad guys leave, Carol takes the surviving Skrull to a new planet on the opposite side of the galaxy and Nick Fury begins his Avengers Initiative. Fast forward to the Present and Carol returns in the end-credit scene to a very confused Captain America and demands to know what happened to Fury.

This was one heavy plot. I cut a lot out of it and it still took me thirty minutes to give a summary that wouldn't leave you more confused than you began. You wouldn't think this movie was so plot-dense until you have to try to explain it.

The Good: I just broke down the plot, but what's great about Captain Marvel is that this plot is engaging. I had to go to the bathroom about a third of the way through the movie, but I didn't once consider actually leaving because every second of this movie was filled with something.

I've heard it said before that a good plot structure is "X happened because of Y and causes Z." There are precious few films that encapsulate that principle into the core of it's being better than Captain Marvel. And the nods to future films and plot points were fun to discover as well.

Another thing worth noting is how much of the story is conveyed nonverbally. They spend a lot of effort to say as much as they can, using as little dialogue as possible. This helps the viewer to remember plot details better since they're not just passively listening, but it also means that removing attention away from the screen can cause you to miss things crucial to understanding what's going on. I'm leaving this in The Good because Captain Marvel used this feature well. It's always nice to see a visual medium like film use visual storytelling to great effect instead of having someone constantly dumping exposition all the time.

As a subset of the above, lack of exposition in a movie that is a plot-heavy as this one is always worth noting as praiseworthy.

The use of humor to break up the heavier scenes was a relief, and it often came when I least expected it. Real early in the movie there was this scene where "Vers" was escaping the Skrull's and one of them does this growl at her and she growls back! It was such an absurd little moment of humanity and character that I lost it. And almost anything with that cat! I swear, how they made that monster scratching out Nick Furry's eye out into something hilarious, I'll never know! But they did, and all those little moments made this movie shine.

Real briefly, I'd like to address a common complaint I've heard against this movie, Carol's lack of character. These people are full of fluff. Is that it? Can I just leave it here? Do I really have to explain this? Yes?? *sigh* Okay.

The idea that Carol lacks character is born from her "reserved" personality type. Now, I'm not calling anyone sexist! But this is a personality type that is very often shown in Men ™ , and it doesn't even raise an eyebrow. But to any dude who actually is sexist, and refuses to look at anything other than how large Brie Larson's chest is outside of her superhero suit, this personality type can easily be swapped out with a piece of cardboard and they wouldn't notice.

Now, guys have been pulling off this “kind of quiet, but kind, but I'll seriously kick your ass if you mess with me,” attitude in film for ages. And quite a few even have had success with it. (I'm thinking Resse from Person of Interest, a show that is definitely getting its own review someday.) But it's exceedingly rare for a woman in film to have this personality type.

It's not uncommon in reality, however. And I, personally, like this touch of realism.

The few moments where Carol allowed herself to laugh felt warm and genuine. All her interactions with her niece were heartwarming. Again, some very important people, some of whom I even respect, say that the side characters never got a chance to shine, and Carol never got a chance to have a character arc.

But again, they're full of fluff. If anything, expressing emotion was Carol's character arc. By beating up the man in her life that insists that she never feel emotion, Carol shows that her emotions are her strengths and she does not at all have to prove herself to anyone.

Why?

Because she kept getting back up.

This is a powerful message to tell anyone. Not just women. We heard a variant of the same message in the Dark Knight trilogy. But in this one, it's even more satisfying because the people who kept knocking her down were cheating to begin with.

Now, I'm not going to say that this message was transferred across the eight sexes evenly. I have no doubt that women felt this message more acutely than men. This specific message was made for women. Duh. But there's only one reason why any man could come out of this film feeling attacked.

They saw themselves in Yon-Rogg.

I'm just saying, if you related to the one male character that got attacked in this movie, you prolly need to be offended. Just a little. It's not going to kill you to take a hard look at yourself, even if you eventually discover that you have, in fact, been an ass at some point in your life.

Congratulations. Welcome to the human race. Now, move on.

Before we take our own advice and move on, I'd like to address one more thing Captain Marvel did exceptionally well: The sound design.

This movie sounded wonderful, from the effects to the actual factual background music. Most notably in the third act. There was a point where a character said "The music is a nice touch" and I agreed completely. A lot of these films use similar or recycled music to amp up "the moment" but this movie... well, they didn't turn it up to eleven, but the got it up to ten.

They had music with lyrics, and that's more than 70% of movies these days. Thumbs up.

The Bad: Remember how I said I loved how engaging this plot was? It's still a freakishly dense plot! This whole thing was so tightly edited there was very little time to just unpack the things that happened. Often, you had to try and unpack the thing that just happened while actually doing the next thing.

This helps the movie be engaging. But it hamstrings it when it comes to actually following what’s happening. There is just no way to condense this movie. I've left out tons of stuff just because I have to stop typing this thing eventually!

The Strange: This part of the review is dedicated to the bizarre. To elements or ideas that seem half done, or just really questionable. Not usually bad enough to be constituted as a plot hole, these things are... just... things.

So, for example, the Kree team. What were their names? How many of them were there in the first place?

Don't know? Me neither, and I took notes when I watched this film. I remember Minn-Erva, the sniper, and Yon-Rogg the main villain. And if I'm honest, I actually forgot their names and had to look it up. I didn't even know their group was called "Starforce," until I discovered it looking for the correct way to spell their names.

This is not the best way to set up your main bad guys. Especially if your audience is supposed to care about them at all for any reason.

And while we're at it, the antagonist himself, Yon-Rogg, could do with a little bit extra development too. We don't really know much about him except that he thinks emotions are weaknesses in a fight, and that Carol using her full power is cheating.

We don't really know anything else about him, so there's no real sense of betrayal when Carol turns on him. The "evil all along" trope works best when it's a character you've been with the whole story who's secretly had a plan the whole time. It works because you, the audience, feels betrayed too. Here... it just kinda happened. And, depending on how cynical you are, you probably even saw it coming.

It's like they were going for a sucker punch but aimed it at your forearm; doesn't really hurt, and does little to actually surprise us.

Strongest Scene: When making the strongest scene, I don't mean I look for the scenes with the most meaning packed into them. If I did, the climax or the Intro of a story would win every time. No, what I look for in a strong scene is pure storytelling. How is it shot, who is in it, how does it connect with the rest of the story, and how much does it say.

For Captain Marvel, my subjective vote goes to the bar scene between Nick Fury and "Vers." Even though they've technically met already, the two are really seeing each other for the first time. Nick, newly awakened to the idea of aliens, and Vers, finally respecting Nick's skills as a competent agent despite his comparative backwater setting.

Nick realizes he's in about a mile over his head, and Vers realizes she can't work alone.

They have a nice discussion about their past and aliens, complete with its own little humorous jabs, and there's a very real sense that these two are full partners afterward that carries all along the rest of the movie.

Weakest Scene: As much as it saddens me to say this, I'm going to have to put the introduction to the movie here.

Don't get me wrong, it does a fully competent job of setting up Vers and her amnesia. But we don't get a good sense of anyone else in Halla. To me, it's the things we don't see that really spoil this intro. We don't see any of Carol's friends, and the one guy we do see is in a bit of a mentor position. We don't see how people in this world live, and because of that, we don't get to know if the people of Halla are happy, or miserable. And while this does little for the plot of this movie, it would've done marvels at giving the villains characterization or justifications.

Coulda, shoulda, woulda; didn't.

Luckily, I can gladly say that every other scene in this movie was made stronger than this one.

Conclusion: Captain Marvel is an excellent story from start to finish. Anyone who tells you otherwise is stuffed so full of fluff you can call them Whinee the Poo. And yes, that is my way of saying they're full of crap. 

There's a stigma around female characters that they're almost all considered Mary Sue's, and that being a Mary Sue is the WORST CRIME EVER!! But I never got that from Carol. Mostly because at every opportunity instead of powering her way through her problems, she had to cave and struggle and even fall.

And then she got back up.

[bucky-at-bedtime]

Redemption – Chapter Two

Chapter One

Summary: Your life as an assassin for the mob has always been an easy one – find the target, kill the target. Simple. Everything changes when you fail to kill your new target – Bucky Barnes. 

Pairing: Eventually, Bucky x fem!reader 

Warnings: Violence and sass lmao

Words: 2400

A/n: Okay, I posted Ch.1 of this fic a while ago, I don’t really know what I’m doing with it, if it gets a good response I’ll continue, if it doesn’t I’ll pretend it never happened. Lmao, okay pls enjoy.

C H A P T E R  T W O

‘Life asked death,

“Why do people love me, and hate you?”

Death responded,

“Because you are a beautiful lie,

And I am the painful truth.”’

Recap:

You let your head fall back against the side of the dumpster, unable to care about how disgusting this situation was. You sighed to yourself, squeezing your eyes shut to try and stop the tears that were brimming in your eyes. You clenched your jaw in determination, fingers brushing over the gun in your jacket.

The King killed your brother. It’s about time he lost his crown.

You were not ashamed to admit that you had a power nap in that dumpster – a quick pick-me-up for your aching legs and bruised body. It’s not like you had anywhere else you could go. By now, your apartment would be swarming with goons, waiting to see any sign of their King’s beloved assassin. Any place you frequented would be compromised. It seemed this dumpster was the only safe place in the world right now.

You groaned quietly to yourself, gripping the metal edge and pulling yourself up, flinging a leg over the side and allowing yourself to topple out, landing in a crouched position.

The sun was beginning to rise, hiding behind the city buildings and sending streams of pink and orange light through the morning air. You brushed off your leather jacket as best you could, sliding your hand under it to press to what you were pretty sure was a broken rib or two, and beginning a slow walk towards the Avengers tower.

He wanted to kill the Avengers. He knew he would never have control, never have his ‘perfect’ city if the heroes were still around. He wanted them dead and you wanted him dead. The enemy of my enemy is my friend, right?

You got a few strange looks from passers-by as you stumbled towards the tower, though most of them brushed it off, deciding that you were probably homeless and an addict. You kept your head down, and as you walked, some of the pain began to fade, making the limping far less noticeable and allowing you to stand up straight.

The sun hid behind the giant tower – a dark shadowy silhouette in the morning sun. The city was starting to wake up around it, men and women in suits emerging onto the streets, coffee shop lines growing as assistants checked their watches and attempted to steady their pulses.

You slipped into the lobby, trying to imitate the confident strides of the other people who entered. Hopefully, no one would notice the blood on your face and the yellowing bruises splattered across your skin.

“Hi.” You watched as the woman at the front desk gulped down her coffee before turning to face you, her eyes going wide in surprise.

“Can- Can I help you?”

“I need to speak to Tony Stark.”

“Uh, Mr. Stark doesn’t deal with people directly – can I put yo-”

“Listen to me. I need to speak to Stark.”

“Ma’am, I’m sorry but I can’t-”

“Look, I’m gonna take a stab and guess that the camera right there,” you pointed at a security camera behind the desk, “runs facial recognition on everyone that walks in and out of this building. If you look at your computer you’ll find a file on me – Y/n Y/l/n.”

You watched as she typed some things into the computer, her eyes widening as she read the file.

“Thought that might be the case.” You shot her a faux smile, “So, if you could pick up that phone, and get me Tony Stark.”

You knew she was probably scared of you now – the information about your ‘career’ could be quite intimidating. You also knew she could easily call the cops instead – but why do that when the Avengers were in the building?

Moments later, you found yourself in a sparse office, high-tech handcuffs secured around your wrists as you waited for Tony Stark to come and talk to you. The cool, metal of the chair slowly adjusted to your body temperature as time slowly trickled by. You stared blankly down at the cuffs connecting your wrists.

The past 20 minutes had been nothing but sitting, fiddling and waiting for someone –– an avenger or agent –– to come to interrogate you. You woefully reminisced on the past few years; the experiments, the torture, the killing. You couldn’t help the disgusted grimace that broke through your neutral expression. You vehemently hated the mob for single-handedly ruining yours and your brother’s life. But there was no one that you despised more than yourself, not even the King of that damned elitist gang. It was your own fault for ever getting involved, and most importantly, you got your own brother killed because of it.

“Andy…” His name just slipped out of your mouth. It was quiet and despondent, and completely contradicted your now stone-cold features. He’s gone, dead, because of you. You killed him. You were still having trouble believing, the scene flashing through your mind repetitively, sending your brain into overdrive. Every possibility, every opportunity you had to save him. If you’d been a little stronger, a little faster, a little better, like you were supposed to be – he’d still be alive.

You slammed your fists onto the metal table, a solid indent was produced on impact and you were sure you broke a couple of fingers, maybe your wrist. You didn’t care; you deserved it, and so much more. You slowly released a breath, stretching your fingers out. You had definitely broken something. A few minutes later, someone finally came in.

Steve Rogers – Captain America was suddenly striding into the room, his eyebrows furrowed in a mixture of anger and confusion as he assessed you. He glanced briefly at the dent in the table and his eyebrows pulled even closer together.

“Warm welcome,” you mumbled, lifting your connected wrists.

“You’re a criminal.” He crossed his arms over his chest and you scoffed quietly at his words, looking back down at your hands.

The door opened again, and Tony Stark stepped in, adjusting the blazer he was wearing over a graphic tee. He gave you a look-over before pulling out a chair from across the table and looking at you curiously.

“Alright, what’s your deal?” He asked, obviously intrigued. “You don’t look like much of a murderer”

“That seems sexist – and I prefer the term assassin” you quirked a brow, daring him to disagree.

“Well I prefer the term ‘smartest avenger’ but it isn’t catching on,” he sassed. He leaned forward, resting his arms on the table. “Answer the question.”

“I don’t recall a question.”

“What’s. your. Deal?”

“You’re gonna have to be more specific.” you leaned across the table, mimicking his position.

“Cut the bull crap.” Steve finally interrupted the exchange. “Why are you here?”

You let out a breath of air and turned your head to look at the blonde. You stared at his chest for a moment, trying to think of a way to phrase this. Your eyes shifted up to his, looking earnestly into the bright blue – you knew what you were about to say was absurd, but you needed him to believe you. You let out another sigh, before blurting it out. “Someone’s trying to kill you.”

“That’s ominous” Tony’s voice broke the short silence that followed your statement, refusing to take you seriously. “What’s new?”

“What, and you came to warn us?” Steve was leaning forwards now, his arms uncrossed and resting on the table. His voice was still filled with disbelief, but something told you he would be easy to convince.

“Pretty much.”

“I’ll humour you,” Tony mumbled, leaning back in his chair and raising a perfect brow. “Who?”

You shook your head slightly at his indifference, continuing to talk despite it. “The man I used to work for – guy calls himself ‘The King’”

“That seems pretentious,” Tony interrupted, a smirk on his lips.

“Almost as pretentious as ‘the smartest avenger,” you snapped, glaring over at him. His smirk only seemed to widen.

“Continue the story.” Steve was getting impatient, obviously done with the banter, so you turned your attention back to him, ignoring Stark’s presence for the moment.

“He’s a powerful guy – addicted to control and perfection. He runs all the crime in New York.”

“Why haven’t we heard of him?”

“Like I said, he’s powerful – good at his job and a goddamn perfectionist. He stays under the radar, frames other people, doesn’t go into the public unless he has to.” You looked down at your hands, noticing the mild shake as you spoke. You pressed them down onto the table, wincing slightly when the cuffs pressed against your wrists.“He wants complete control – wants to run this whole goddamn city.” you stopped, shaking your head lightly and leaning back into your chair. “He can’t to that with you guys around.”

“Why should we believe you?”

“Because I want him gone.”

“Why’s that?” Tony finally seemed intrigued. He ran his fingers across the stubble on his jaw, watching you carefully.

“Why do you think? Look at me.” you gestured to your beaten body with your still-cuffed hands. “Who do you think did all this?”

“What did you do to piss him off?”

“I didn’t kill Bucky Barnes.”

Steve perked up at that, his curiosity sparking as a scoff escaped his lips. “You’re the girl – the one that attacked him yesterday.”

“Technically he attacked me”

“Yeah, you were pointing a gun at his head.”

“Wasn’t going to pull the trigger.”

“What do you mean?”

You hesitated to answer, opening your mouth to respond just as Tony interrupted. “What’s this guy’s real name?”

“How the fuck should I know? I’ve worked for him for 10 years and I’ve never heard anyone call him anything other than ‘The King.”

“You seem to really hate this guy – why work for him for 10 years?”

“I had to. I didn’t have a choice.”

“You didn’t have a choice?”

You opened your mouth with the intention to snap back some sassy remark, but the door burst open behind you and you were suddenly defying gravity, being thrown against the back wall. All the air escaped your lungs on impact and you coughed, trying to gain back some oxygen.

Your hands, still cuffed, came up to hold onto something, but all that was there was another person’s arms. You held on tightly.

Finally, you lifted your head, finding the eyes of Bucky Barnes.

It was safe to assume he held grudges.

“It’s good to see you again,” you rasped, still trying to bring enough oxygen in through his tight grip. “I have to say, this is almost as pleasant as our first meeting.”

His eyes narrowed and he pressed his forearm harder against your collarbones – at this point, you thought he might be intending to break them. “I should’ve finished the job,” he grumbled.

“You’re not the only person who’s tried to kill me in the last 24 hours – I like to think I’m pretty tough.” Your cuffed hands clawed slightly at his flesh arm, trying to gain some leverage.

Steve was standing up, still behind the table and asking Bucky to let you go. He was ignoring him.

“How’d she get in?” he asked, still staring straight at you. It seemed as though he didn’t want to let you out of his sight.

“I walked in through the front door,” you hissed, looking around the room, attempting to find a way to escape his death-grip.

“Shut up.” He turned away slightly to look back at the two men. “Steve?”

“She walked in through the front door, Buck,” Steve sighed, walking around the table and putting a hand on Bucky’s shoulder.

You could feel your heartbeat speeding up, the fear of suffocation creeping in behind your passiveness. Your mind was moving too quickly –– confusing itself –– you needed to slow down. You needed to breathe.

“Are you kidding me? She tried to kill me 24 hours ag-”

Before he could finish his sentence, you had found your leverage. You pushed his chest back as your foot came up, connecting with his kneecap. His grip loosened and you fell from where he was holding you up on the wall, taking a few quick steps away from him.

“Stop- stop, Barnes,” you held your hands up in surrender as he took a step towards you. “You know I had a good shot. You know I could’ve killed you long before you spotted me.” You backed up further, basically pressing yourself against the opposite wall, “Think about it,” you hissed.

He stopped, eyes still narrowed as he glared at you, Tony and Steve apparently happy to stay silent throughout this exchange.

“We have similar training, you know if I was going to kill you, you’d be dead.”

“So why didn’t you?” he seethed.

“Changed my mind,” you hissed back, still holding your cuffed arms in front of you. “And now I’m here to try and fucking save your cute little team, so if you could refrain from killing me, for two goddamn seconds, maybe your friends can fill you in.”

You stared, wide-eyed at Steve and Tony, rolling your eyes at the smirk that seemed to be permanently attached to Stark’s face.

“How about we fill everyone in?” He suggested, glancing from Steve to Bucky and then back to you. “Team meeting?”

Steve assessed you – your position of surrender across the room, the bruising that still covered your body.

“FRIDAY? Tell the team to meet in conference room 3A. Urgent.”

Bucky looked back at Steve, assessing his direction before finally taking his eyes off you. You took a shaky breath and brushed off the front of your blood-stained leather jacket.

“I don’t trust it,” he mumbled.

“I’m not an ‘it’”

“Let’s let the team decide,” Steve attempted to bargain.

“Ah, some healthy codependency, great,” you mumbled, unable to stop the remark from leaving your lips.

“You should really stop talking.” Steve raised a brow at your constant sassiness. “Bucky keep an eye on her”

When you were close enough, Bucky’s metal arm reached out, clamping tightly around your forearm. You looked down at the shining fingers and raised your brows.

“He said to keep an eye on me, not a bionic limb”

“Yeah, well, if we were listening to what he said, you would’ve stopped talking”

“Touché.”

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[pass-the-bechdel]

Homicide: Life on the Street season three full review

How many episodes pass the Bechdel test?

65% (thirteen of twenty).

What is the average percentage per episode of female characters with names and lines?

32.96%

How many episodes have a cast that is at least 40% female?

Three (episode three ‘Extreme Unction’ (40%), episode sixteen ‘Law and Disorder’ (52%), and episode eighteen ‘In Search of Crimes Past’ (43.47%)).

How many episodes have a cast that is less than 20% female?

Two (episode eleven ‘Cradle to Grave’ (18.75%), and episode seventeen ‘The Old and the Dead’ (19.04%)).

How many female characters (with names and lines) are there?

Fifty-nine. Seventeen who appeared in more than one episode, three who appeared in at least half the episodes, and ZERO who appeared in every episode.

How many male characters (with names and lines) are there?

Ninety-four. Twenty-four who appeared in more than one episode, seven who appeared in at least half the episodes, and five who appeared in every episode.

Positive Content Status:

Strong. The show maintains a powerful awareness of the society it is situated within and the varied experiences of those within it; the analysis of racial issues - systemic and individual - is particularly impressive, and though it is not the subject this blog was created to explore, it seems wrong to talk about this show at all without acknowledging the good work it is doing on that front (average rating of 3.1). 

General Season Quality:

While not quite as strangely, darkly real as the beginning of the series, it’s still good, compelling, and meaningful television, and it does make the most of itself in terms of telling new stories which enrich and expand the world of the show; it does not rest on its laurels and repeat the same narrative patterns as earlier episodes, and it is the better for it. 

MORE INFO (and potential spoilers) under the cut:

For the record, I regret the decision not to write individual episode posts for this show. Not quite enough to go back and write them after all, but enough to complain about how I’m not doing it. This is a note to my future self, in case I try to convince myself that summary-only is a good idea after all: it isn’t. It’s just a way to guarantee that you’ll end up leaving things out and being less thorough than you want to be. It’s a dumb idea. Don’t do it.

To business: the season literally opens with Bolander watching a love scene on the tv in the break room and complaining about all the gratuitous sex on tv shows these days, prompting a conversation with Lewis and Munch about how ‘the networks make them put that stuff in’. It’s essentially a written-in apology to the audience for the fact that there are romantic subplots in this season; they might as well have broken down the fourth wall completely and had the characters look straight into the camera, that’s how transparent they are about it. The network demanded sex appeal as a condition of renewing the show for a third season, and the writers were NOT happy about it; I appreciate both their convictions, and the fact that they made this slim compromise which gave us more of this wonderful show to enjoy, even if there is a bare minimum of unnecessary sex in there. It’s a worthy trade. (the sex-on-tv discussion segues into a prediction from Munch about how the future will include a trillion different channels to watch, everyone communicating online, and never having to get out of your chair for anything. Bolander then says that he wishes they’d bring back Hawaii 5-0, which of course has since happened. It’s eerie).

Anyway; the sex mostly involves Felton, whose slightly-unhinged (and, in mercifully one scene only, gratuitously undressed) wife Beth has kicked him out of the house at the beginning of the season, to which Felton has responded by promptly jumping in bed with a new woman: that is, with the new woman, Megan Russert, whose presence in the main cast brings us to a grand old two women in the regular rotation. The show gleefully ditches the Felton/Russert romance three episodes in (but not until after we’ve been subjected to Daniel Baldwin in his little nineties underwear:

cheers network, I hope that’s what you were aiming for when you demanded more sex appeal), and the whole business manages to play out with relative grace, being blatant network-service but avoiding the common pitfall of useless hetero romance wherein the female character ends up seeming like she only exists to be sexy. 

Russert’s introduction isn’t entirely smooth - and the romance angle doesn’t help there - but despite being a much more traditionally-feminine and traditionally-attractive character than Howard is, and despite having the confrontation of sexism in the workplace laid on a little thick in those introductory episodes, Russert is still successfully established as a person in her own right, and not defined by her womanhood any more than Howard is. Like Howard, Russert can’t escape the way that the department and the men within it treat her gender as a conspicuous and dominant trait, and like Howard, Russert is not interested in letting the preoccupations of other people impact the way she goes about her work; unlike Howard, Russert refuses to engage with the idea of being a good example for other women because she feels that doing so means participating in making gender an issue when it shouldn’t matter in the first place. Howard - delighted to be working with an accomplished woman who meets her personal standard of conduct, and willing to openly defend Russert’s service record against her sexist detractors - is affronted by Russert’s refusal to fight the good fight on behalf of her gender, but the show wisely does not take a side. Both women’s approaches to their womanhood have merit, and neither is perfect; rather than pitting them against one another over their differences, the show acknowledges that Howard and Russert are, each in their own way, doing the best their  with a situation that has been stacked against them and in which there are no absolute ways to ‘win’, only ways to play. 

This season is much stronger on women than those preceding it, as evident in the statistics: over 12% better in the female:male ratio, and 57% better on the Bechdel (they were doing shockingly well with that one until they went and failed in the last four episodes all in a row, but still. This is far, far better than I had expected). It takes a broader, more detailed look at the way women exist (and are forced to exist) within the structure of society, and there is evidence of clear comprehension of the imbalances, the contradictions, and the illogical expectations and judgments that come with that. The serial killer Annabella Wilgis from the opening trilogy of the season asserts that she murdered eight women because she blames women in the workplace for ‘ruining everything’ by upsetting the strictly-gendered status quo of Wilgis’ childhood; Howard catches a killer back in her home town because the guy was so much of a sexist chump he wouldn’t wash his own shirt to get away with murder (as he is arrested the guy screams at his wife for not ‘doing her job’ and washing his shirt for him, and the lack of self-reflection is as bizarre as it is believable); the fantastic ‘Every Mother’s Son’ sees two women - both unaware that they are at the police station for the same case, one’s son having been murdered by the other’s - commiserating about the state of the men in their neighbourhoods and the lack of good father figures and role models for their boys (both women are black, and as they discuss also the number of funerals they have attended for their early-teen son’s friends, the conversation serves as a double-whammy observation of both gender, and systemic racial inequality. It’s powerful and sobering); Russert intervenes in the private life of her former detective partner when she discovers that he’s been beating his wife, and takes no excuses from either party about ‘the stress of the job’ or any other such tragically familiar lines; Beth Felton’s behaviour, while erratic and hurtful, finds some sympathy from Howard and Russert as they consider the dire lack of options open to Beth as a potentially-single mother of three small children. With the exception of Wilgis the serial killer, there is altogether an underpinning thread of women understanding and supporting each other, a factor which helps to give the women’s narratives a sense of their own gravity through recognition from outside; something particularly important when set against the ignorance and even complicity which can arise even from seemingly forward-thinking men.

Network-mandated sex brings us Emma Zoole, and with her, reflections upon the attitudes of some of our male characters, some of it good, some of it bad. Lewis makes a pushy fool of himself trying to chat her up, but he’s harmless enough and once he plays out his chance and is rejected, he respects Emma’s choice and declares unequivocally that he will not pursue her further (a declaration prompted by Felton suggesting that he just needs a new strategy). That said, there is a possessive streak at work when Lewis learns that Bayliss has hooked up with Emma instead; if Lewis didn’t feel some sense  of ownership for having called first dibs on Emma, he wouldn’t have anything to feel ‘betrayed’ about. For the most part, laughs are had as Bayliss literally falls over himself and clutzes around Emma’s apartment in the least-sexy way possible - it’s funny, it’s realistic, and it’s a solid fuck-you to the network - and the fallout as the entire workplace learns of his exploits (”what is a cuffoon?”) is a great time. But, on the other side of it all, things are less bright. Lewis is smothering his sorrows by eating cous cous, and Felton delivers a diatribe about how the idea of health food and men thinking they need to watch their weight is all about ‘women trying to dominate men’ (a double-standard view if ever there was one; at least Lewis ain’t buying it). Meanwhile, it turns out Emma has a boyfriend named Andy who takes it poorly when he hears about Bayliss; Andy knocks Emma down - Bayliss is aghast when Emma tells him, and his anger does feel like it is at least mostly coming from the right place, but under the circumstances one also wonders if there’s an extent to which he goes out to give Andy what-for as a possessive pissing contest and not in genuine concern. Emma breaks up with Bayliss for interfering with her relationship with Andy, and Bayliss...goes off the deep end and robs a convenience store at gunpoint after he comes up eleven cents short trying to pay for beer and cookies. Pembleton bails Bayliss out so that he winds up not suffering any significant ramifications for his actions, and the comedic tone of the whole piece feels decisively off, as if the writers have hit a major blind spot wherein they think men lashing out dangerously when a relationship falls apart is normal and understandable on its own, and therefore not worthy of harsh scrutiny. I mean, if the guy hurts or kills his former lover, that behaviour is condemned, but if he just threatens to shoot a store clerk for voiding a sale, that’s funny, right?

The idea of that unscrutinised blind spot is reinforced throughout the rest of the series so far; while none of the other central male characters have reacted quite as wildly as Bayliss, they do form a cohesive track record for refusing to do their own emotional labour in working their way through romantic disappointments. Felton is a slightly different case since his relationship woes are also tied up with custody of his children, and as such his spiralling alcoholism is not necessarily a consequence of the end of his marriage itself so much as it is about the messy way that plays out (it is very, very messy, though, and he does lean on the other women in his life throughout rather than taking control of his situation himself). Bolander was a total bear throughout the first season after separating from his wife, and Munch I already flagged in my previous review for his attitude toward his now-ex Felicia throughout the final ups and downs of that relationship. Lewis may just drag himself off to eat some cous cous all alone, but he still wallows over a relationship that never even began; Gee does the same thing after being rejected by Russert’s friend Amanda (though there is an additional factor there in which Gee - this guy:

- feels that Amanda - this lady:

- has rejected him because he’s blacker than she is, sparking what remains the only discussion on colourism within the black community that I have ever seen on tv. It’s an illuminating subject that deserves discussion, though we never find out if it really is the reason for Amanda’s rejection or if she was just not interested in Gee for any number of other, completely legitimate reasons). As Bayliss forgoes all self control, as Felton spins his ridiculous opinions on health food, and as Bolander commiserates with Gee about how ‘the way a woman feels about a man, that’s the way he’s going to feel about himself’, there’s a consistent theme of this notion that women have a responsibility to prop men up and protect their fragile egos, and it’s a theme that the show - for all that it is mostly very self-aware - doesn’t seem to challenge at all. 

While I’m griping, there are more imperfections this season than there were last time around: Munch makes a lot of jokes about women, not necessarily in disparaging ways but definitely in an othering fashion which lends itself to a perception of women as objects of desire rather than, um, people. His nihilistic attitude about pretty much everything combined with his regular gendered commentary can make him pretty hard to enjoy as comic relief, especially when you’re viewing the show with a deliberately critical eye (he also makes a joke about prison rape at one point, and rape jokes of any kind are a surefire way to vault straight into my bad books). Pembleton gets embroiled in a political quagmire involving one Congressman Wade: a closeted homosexual, Wade has filed a false police report to try and cover up his affair with his male assistant, fearing that said assistant might expose him by filing assault charges after Wade beat him up. While everyone involved rightfully agrees that being gay should not end Wade’s political career, they all kinda ignore the fact that committing assault probably should, and I’m not ok with the way that detail gets shrugged off. And the episode ‘The Last of the Watermen’ not only uses the cliche of having a character just-happen to catch a case while on vacation, it also repeats the cliche of having a former flame of Howard’s as a suspect, something we already did in season two (less than ten episodes ago, to make it even more egregious that we’re doing it again); the show is better than that kind of contrivance. 

To wrap this on a good note though, there were also some real gems in the piece: the episode ‘Colors’ delivers a great guest star in David Morse and tells a confronting story about the insidiousness of subconscious racism; it’s very easy for shows to do stories about racism that acknowledge it in a very obvious surface-level way (i.e. this person treats that person badly because of the colour of their skin, and that’s wrong), but it’s more difficult and more important to explore the subtleties of the ways racism can manifest both individually and systemically, and that’s what this show does so well. On the topic of great guest stars, Steve Buscemi is used to magnificent effect in ‘End Game’ as a character who is so very, very wrong in such very, very obvious ways, and yet so superciliously convinced of his correctness that he’s impossible to argue with (we all know at least one person exactly like that). Buscemi’s turn comes at the culmination of the three-episode arc surrounding the shooting of three of our detectives, which is masterfully handled both in the immediate shock and the ensuing tension, as well as in the complicated miasma of emotional fallout for the rest of the squad as they struggle and rally. The fallout from that arc continues to permeate the rest of the season, in much the same way as the suicide of our beloved Steve Crosetti does at the beginning of the season: the episode ‘Crosetti’ is the highlight of the season despite fierce competition, and watching Lewis bawl his eyes out while Bolander holds him still gets me every time, but it’s nothing compared to watching Pembleton provide a one-man Honour Guard for his fallen comrade at episode’s end. The heaviness of the episode has some serious emotional staying power, and while the ditching of Crosetti was another network-mandated dick move designed to up the show’s sex appeal, the writers well and truly made lemonade by crafting the loss into a powerful narrative which emphasises and reinforces the core of the series itself: the horror and the battle to overcome the darkness of a truly thankless job, and find the good glimmer of life that lies beyond it.