I just want Scott to be the first one to realize that Theo is the one that anchors Liam.
Scott can try, and he can get through to Liam some times, even most of the time. But to his utter disbelief, contrary to his own approach - understanding, unthreatening, loving - he watches Theo approach a grieving, rage-stricken Liam with a half smirk, and Scott cuts the impulse to fling the chimera through a window, far away from his beta, and instead holds himself in check.
He watches Theo slink closer, a devastating hint of taunting in his voice. There’s a rushing in his ears and he misses what Theo says to Liam, but Liam curves into the hand on his shoulder, relaxing, and the yellow in his eyes slowly fades. In the following seconds, his wolf disappears completely.
Scott watches Liam growl at Theo. He watches Theo ignore it and slide his fingers up the back of Liam’s neck, watches them tighten for a moment and release. When Theo’s hand drops, Liam tips his head back, and Scott is startled to realize the tension in his beta is gone.
Liam says, “I still don’t like you,” and Scott looks at Theo’s narrowing eyes, the forced half-grin he tugs his mouth into.
“Wow, Dunbar, imagine what that means to me,” he drawls.
This is a great breakdown of a trope I never thought much about: the (preternaturally) innocent sexy lady. Some of the points he makes about the work this does for masculinity are really worth considering:
man is unthreatened by lady’s sexual history, or possibility of her judging his sexual performance
man gets to be heroically skilled for knowing things like “how to eat a sandwich” or “what is a microwave”
ignorance is sexy???
man gets to tell lady she is sexy; she doesn’t know she is sexy! Sexiness is bestowed on her by a dude.
Two points which are not really developed by this, though, are:
I have always identified with the dude in these movies, and never really thought about it. I mean, I know How To Sandwich, so. And also, I don’t think anyone at all would identify with the lady? This is a weird character that I’m pretty sure doesn’t exist in real life?
This is definitely Mansplaining: Two Hour Erection. Like, it’s a fantasy situation where the dude gets to mansplain EVERYTHING, and no matter what he mansplains, she’s like “Wow! You’re so knowledgeable about stoplights, Brad!”
(This isn’t saying anything new, it’s just taking another angle on a commonly discussed topic in case some people find this angle easier to relate to or engage with).
Most people can tell the difference between communities where they matter and communities where they don’t. It’s often really hard to nail down, specifically, the set of differences between these communities, but that doesn’t mean you don’t get a feel for it. There are places where people see you and people like you as a peer, a partner, a friend, and there are places where they see you as an imposition they tolerate for the sake of politeness, or a potential threat, or a waste of time and energy.
So lots of people go into a community and they get a visceral sense of ‘wow, this is a place where people like me aren’t welcome.’ And it’d be nice if they could pin it down beyond that - say 'this is an interaction I had which sucked’ or 'these are the rules that exclude me’ or 'this was the thing which made it clear to me that people like me were unwelcome’ - but often you can’t pin it down that precisely. You know perfectly well what you experienced, but all of the evidence that got you there is nothing all by itself, or is almost completely intangible. Sometimes communities have an explicit rule that everyone is welcome, and if you say “I’m unwelcome” they will point at the rule and say “no you’re not”. But you are.
I know a lot of people who are confused or stressed by the discourse surrounding microaggressions. They read through lists of them and see a mix of some things that are obvious misconduct and some things that look harmless, that they do all the time with people of every background, that don’t seem horrible at all. So they dutifully memorize every list they run across and anxiously try to avoid it in future, even though they don’t have any idea why it’s bad, or else they unhelpfully argue with people about how it isn’t that bad.
But I think the actual thing with microaggressions is that feeling of 'people like me are not welcome’ or at least 'people like me are only conditionally welcome, welcome if we’re friendly and careful and unthreatening and reassuring and match other peoples’ narratives about us and aren’t angry and don’t make anyone uncomfortable and toe the party line’. It’s really helpful for people to collect and corroborate and discuss and complain about all of the little cues which add up to that impression, but scrupulously memorizing the list of cues and avoiding the things on your list won’t actually make spaces where people feel welcome. The problem is the 'this space is not for people like you’ thing.
I think this is also what’s going on with a lot of discussion of bad allies. Lots of bad allying seems to amount to 'loudly saying that people are valued while continuing to be the kind of space where they are palpably not valued’.
Which, of course, isn’t worse than being a space where people are not valued while not even giving lip service to the idea that they should be, but it can be uniquely frustrating because in a space that says 'we hate gay people’ you can say 'I am uncomfortable there because they hate me’ while in a space that claims to be supportive and fails at it all you can really say is 'uh. it sucks, for some reason’. Or you can give reasons that seem trivial and insignificant and which, if they were fixed, wouldn’t actually be sufficient.
Oh! If i can get kind of specific, and.. not andriel for once.. (clutches heart i love those boys though) would you be willing to do 34 with jerejean, as like, jeremy introducing jean to the rest of the team maybe?
34: “I’d like to apologize in advance for my crazy family”
He has these serious grey eyes, dull like pebbles blazed by heat. There’s the other stuff too, the broken hitch sideways of his nose, the spidering scars all over, like they’re coming straight from the hurt in his brain.
Jeremy sees them and tucks his burning questions away for later. There are more important things to notice. Like how Jean has a very pretty mouth, an overfull upper lip that makes him look like he’s perpetually pouting. It matches the frown line that cuts his brow in two.
He’s seen Jean before, for minutes at most, passing ships at Exy banquets, one intense first meeting when Jean was hastily smuggled onto the USC lineup and Jeremy was asked to do some reconnaissance and a cursory meet and greet.
He’d gone to see Jean, carrying a USC sweater he’d stolen from the bin of spares at the court as a peace offering. Jeremy hadn’t been prepared for the single saddest looking person he had ever seen, stripped of the bravado he’d worn at Riko’s side, cut off from some sort of threat but clearly not from the fear.
Jeremy had pressed the bundle of red and gold into Jean’s hands and Jean had suppressed a jump, worried his torn lip and accepted it gently, gently, as if Jeremy was handing him a bomb for disposal.
Jeremy was nervous, but he fought to scrape the waver from his voice. He’d ignored Jean’s fresh wounds, ignored the look on his face like he was going to get hit or lied to.
They’d spoken briefly about how they’d handle the media, about the superficial scheduling concerns but also the bone-deep concern for Jean’s life that hummed underneath, sickening and obvious. Jeremy was frighteningly aware of the game running adjacent to Exy, always, something deadly eating at their community. The way they were handling Jean’s transfer like it was an illegal exchange of goods, Neil and Kevin in the news with a new bandage every few months, Jean in front of him looking like someone’s make up practice for a horror movie. It was all unmistakable.
And those eyes. He’s worried they’re never going to have anything in them.
They’re on him now, unflinching, and Jean’s less of a twitchy raw wound then he had been that first time the two of them had spoken. Jeremy’s trying to keep his smile pinned up at both sides but he feels like one end keeps sagging. The airport is a streaky spill of reunions and rolled luggage and Jean hoists his single duffle bag and waits for Jeremy to move first.
“How was your flight?” Jeremy asks nervously, trying to steer them out towards the car without getting too close or asking too much.
“How are they usually?”
Jeremy shrugs, offset. “Uhh, I mean. Good or bad is usually the measure. No turbulence and free pudding versus babies and vomit.”
“I don’t like pudding,” Jean says, dead serious, and Jeremy smiles for real.
“Well I like babies, so. It was a flawed example.”
I wear clothing from the men’s section of the clothing store. My leg hairs are longer than most of the hair in my head. I never wear any makeup, no matter if I’m going out to buy bread in the morning or if I’m going to a party. People often call me “sir”. Others hurl slurs at me, sometimes calling me a “dyke”, sometimes calling me a “faggot”, both showing their disapproval of my physical presentation. I see little kids asking their mothers, in whispers, if I am a boy or a girl. And people ask me all the time, why do I want to look like a man?
The answer is simple. I don’t.
And I do not look like a man.
I look like a woman who refuses to perform femininity.
My unshaven legs do not make me like a man, they’re MY legs, and MY hair, and I am a woman. My “boy’s” clothes are worn on my body, the body of a woman. My naked, unpainted face is the face of a woman. I am a woman, and this is not defined by a haircut or a choice of attire, or by lipstick or high heels, or boxer briefs and men’s deodorant worn over fuzzy unshaven armpits. There’s nothing manly about me.
I am a woman, not by choice, but by fact. Because “woman” is a reality imposed to me, from the day I was born and given a woman’s name, to the day I was six and I was told I couldn’t take off my shirt in a blazing hot summer day because one day I would have breasts, to last night when I walked home in a state of hyper-awareness, my house keys tightly clutched between my fingers, tracking the movements of every man in the dark streets.
I am a woman because, since before my own birth, when an ultrasonography picture informed my parents that I would be born with a vulva, I have been groomed to be a member of the woman class, the breeding stock class, the sex class, the lower class. I was taught to be accomodating and speak softly, to not bring attention to myself and to spare men’s feelings. I was taught that the boy who pulled my hair and threw his toy train at me, aiming for my head, probably did it because he liked me, and boys will be boys anyway. I learned that, if I did the same to him, I was a troublemaker. That my assertiveness is unladylike. That one day I would bear some man’s children, and this was pretty much destiny. That my worth was in my looks, more than in my brain. I am a woman because I was taught all these things, and I am a woman because people expect me to know these lessons by heart, and follow every one of them.
When people ask me why do I want to look like a man, what they’re actually asking is why am I not marking myself as a woman. They’re asking why do I fail to perform the role of femininity, to make myself pleasing and unthreatening to the eyes of the upper class, the man class. My mother once voiced her concerns to me, that my looks would make me a target for male violence, and she is right to be concerned. I am perceived as a member of the lower class who refuses to bear the marks and play the role imposed to me. I refuse to shave my legs to look like a pre-pubescent girl, innocent and vulnerable, or to wear shoes that force me to walk on the tips of my toes, slow and precariously balanced, and this makes men angry, because this is a counscious act of rebellion. This is me saying I am not theirs. I will not please them. I do not desire their approval or their attention. And men often get violent when we refuse to cater to them.
My choices of visual presentation make me a cautionary tale. I am the hairy, ugly, lesbian feminist, the one they warn other women about. “Don’t be like her”, they say, “or no man will ever want you”. But I don’t want them either, and I do not want to look like them, or be like them, or have anything to do with them. I want to be free from men and their bullshit standards. I want to strut around proudly, shamelessly unladylike, looking like a woman looks when she’s not covered in face paint and restrictive clothing, when she doesn’t care about pleasing men.
I do not look like a man, and nothing will ever make me look like one. I am pure, unadulterated woman. I choose myself over them, I choose women over them. If that makes them hate me, so be it. Because I am a woman, they would hate me no matter what I did.
“This is a very precise potion. One common mistake is stirring the potion all the way around for the last stir. You only stir two-thirds of the way. Otherwise, contact with the potion can transform the witch, wizard, or other into an animal of some kind. It doesn’t last terribly long, however I’m sure none of you would want the experience. Now everyone-” Professor Slughorn was interrupted by the door bursting opening, revealing a dishevelled Harry Potter. Everyone turned to him as he bounced on his two feet and scratched the back of his neck.
“Er, sorry Professor,” Harry said. His cheeks were tinged slightly pink. Slughorn appeared to be having trouble keeping himself from rolling his eyes.
He learned very early on that life is unfair. That life is cruel. That being weak won’t get him anywhere.
Kim Junmyeon learned that fairytales don’t exist when he saw his house burn down in front of his eyes, his family still trapped inside. He learned that he was all alone when the flames slowly died to ashes, and everything was swallowed in black.
Requested by Anon - an imagine where the reader in a relationship with someone who is hardly around and when they are there really rude. Damian Wayne goes to comfort reader (she has had a crush on him for since she was like 12) and Damian and reader end up kissing.
Damian watched you from across the table with concern. You pretended to be focused on your homework, but he could tell you were eyeing the clock on the wall. It was Damian’s and your free period at school. The two of you always did your homework together in the library, but recently you had been more distracted as of late, especially after you started dating Taylor.
“(Y/N),” Damian demanded, scowling when you jumped in surprise at his voice. “You have been working on the same math problem for twenty minutes. Do you require assistance?”
You glanced at your paper, shaking your head distractedly. “No, I’m fine,” you replied, giving Damian a tiny smile. Damian’s heart skipped a beat at the sight. You focused back on the clock. “Taylor said they’ll stop by before they have to leave for the away game.”
“TT,” Damian huffed, going back to his work. He pressed his pencil so hard onto the paper the tip snapped. Growling, he got up to use the pencil sharper across the room. You watched him, wishing for the thousandth time in your friendship with Damian that he could see you as more than just a friend.
Pursing your lips as you crushed the wish to glance at the clock again. You had to remind yourself that you were with Taylor now. You were happy, or at least that is what you told yourself.
“Hey babe,” a voice greeted, causing you to whip around as you forced a bright smile onto your face.
“Taylor, I was waiting for you,” you replied, getting up to go to them. Taylor held out their arm, keeping you away.
“No hugs, I just washed this jacket,” they warned, frowning at you. You bit your lip, your smile falling slightly.
“Oh, sorry. I was just happy to see you,” you apologized, sinking back into your seat. Taylor sat in Damian’s chair, leaning across the table to talk to you in a low voice.
From across the room, Damian eyed the two of you as he cranked the pencil sharpener. When he saw your smile faltered, he snapped his pencil in half, trapping the writing end in the sharpener. Growling, he glared at his broken pencil before stomping back over to the table.
“I told you I can’t hang out with you on Saturday. I’ll be too busy hanging out with my friends,” Taylor sneered as Damian came into ear shot. “I would have asked you to come, but you know how Amy doesn’t like you.” Rage filled Damian’s heart when he saw the hurt on your face.
“Oh, okay,” you replied, blinking rapidly to hide your teary eyes. “So, I guess you’ll come over on Sunday night like always?”
“Yeah, and maybe we can watch some TV or something,” Taylor said, ignoring you in favor of their phone. They snickered at it as Damian came up beside them.
Damian narrowed his eyes, clenching his hands into fists before clearing his throat. Taylor looked up in disinterest, clearly unthreatened by Damian’s glare. “Oh, hi Wayne,” they spoke, standing up from the chair. Taylor turned back to you. “I gotta go. So (Y/N), you’ll let me copy your math homework right?”
You hung your head, mumbling your reply. “Sure, of course.” Taylor smirked at you, reaching out to pat your arm.
“I’ll see you two later.” Taylor turned and left the room, leaving silence in their wake. Damian sunk back down into his chair, frowning at how warm it was. He laid his broken pencil on the table, eyeing you carefully.
“(Y/N), the pencil sharpener has eaten my pencil once again. May I borrow one of your mechanical ones?” Damian asked when you had yet to raise your head. You took a few shaky breaths before standing up from the table, tossing Damian your pencil bag.
“Help yourself, I have to go to the bathroom,” you gasped, running out of the room. Damian could have swore he saw the glimmer of tears on your cheeks.
“TT,” Damian huffed, clenching your pencil bag in his hand as he stared at the door you ran out of. His stomach twisted, his heart aching at the fact you were dating a fool who didn’t appreciate you to the fullest. After all, if you were his, Damian would never let you go, and most certainly never make you cry. Damian growled at the thought, hating how you would never seen him as any more than a friend.
Richie Tozier, 17, lead guitarist of your resident small town alt-rock band band Gifted just wants to make it big as a musician. Eddie Kaspbrak, also 17, resident pretty boy of Derry High School just wants to live for once in his fucking life.
(i just needed to write this sdjkfkj punk!richie and preppy!eddie are life ok. AO3 link - pls check here for rating, warnings and notes for now, if something in particular applies i’ll include it here too, for now it’s just language i guess?)
“I want to fuck off from this town,” Bev puffs her cigarette. The smoke is hitting Richie’s face but he doesn’t mind. “As soon as possible.”
seriously cannot believe you would rather ship jxs aka actual incest than pxs..
yeah its almost as if i would rather ship her with a man with whom she could have a consensual, happy, unthreatening relationship rather than with an obsessive, manipulative, murderous, deceptive, overly ambitious rat of a man who basically sold her into sex slavery, caused the deaths of her parents and brothers, boned her aunt, wanted to bone her mum, forced hundreds of underage boys and girls into sex work then voluntarily gave them away to be tortured, weasel of a man who poisoned a child for political gain, lied and cheated, constantly manipulates, scares, and lies to her all in the hopes of using her to up whatever little power he thinks he posesses.
I’ve noticed that I get most of my anti-polyam responses from woman and I think I’ve realized part of why. Our society trains woman from a very young age that other girls will come and take their men. We’re constantly told that men leave their wives for younger women and that if we don’t stay possessive and beautiful horrible woman much more beautiful than us will come and steal our men. It combines monogamy’s celebration of possessiveness, protect your man against the vixens, with sexism’s belief that sexual woman cannot be trusted and that beauty is more important than personality. I think monogamous women are so upset by polyamory because not only are we different from them, unthreatened by our partners attraction to others, but because they believe we could come and steal their partner from them.
I think that one of the most underrated moments in GF is when Bill says," WELCOME ONE AND ALL, TO WEIRDMAGGEDDON!" In Werdmaggeddon Part 1. Like I got full-blown chills, lol. What do you think was the best moment in Weridmaggeddon?
Oh gosh, yeah, Weirdmageddon is just FULL of amazing moments! How could I only pick one? I’m not even sure I can only pick THREE?
Sort of going back to where this discussion started (with Wyblogging’s post about that incredibly cinematic moment from NWHS – which is full of them), I’m thinking in terms of singular visuals that just blew me away with how epic or beautiful they were, in a show that is overall consistently gorgeous.
I still can’t pick a “best”, though! So here are a few stand-out moments where I always think, “wow!”
Weirdmageddon Part 1:
The altered opening is just a complete tour de force, delightfully creative, and such a wonderful thing for the show to have decided to do (given how much work it took to completely reanimate the credits).
Loved this moment, loved this form. There’s something unsettling about how formalized and godlike it is, in comparison with Bill’s usual slightly goofy form. (Don’t get me wrong, I love the fact that Bill’s usual form is kind of both funny and cute but so weird at the same time, I think it adds to his creepiness as a villain by creating a contrast between a relatively unthreatening appearance and his actions. But here, despite the little top-hat and bow tie, this looks like a chaos god.)
Weirdmageddon Part 2:
Speaking of delightfully creepy!
Weirdmageddon Part 3:
Holy shit, THEY WENT THERE!
So supremely fucking satisfying. (And another stellar animation sequence.)
Come on, of course. Both one of the most beautiful and most emotionally complicated shots of the entire show.
About Dean hitting on Daphne, Misha said at Chicon that Dean "gets a little randy" in the Scooby ep... I just feel a bit disappointed, like the writers knew Destiel wouldn't be canon by ep 16 so they wrote that in. I try to be positive most of the time about it being endgame and that I shouldn't worry about some random hook up Dean has, but I just don't see how this is a good thing if they want to make the GA aware of Destiel. Not to sound super negative, I just wanted to know what you think.
2. Hey! I don't know if you heard about this but apparently Dean is going to flirt with Daphne in the Scooby Doo episode… What are you thoughts on it?
People worry about random hook ups. I haven’t been around since before s12 but I know the meta writers say it happens every time.
Look at the gold in s12, we had 2 of them and they both were significant in that one was almost like it never happened (it probably didn’t and Dean was way more into riding Larry, she seemed really annoyed that he blew her off) and the other was a huge omelette metaphor for settling for something else cos you can’t have what you really want (is Cas bacon or the pancakes? Hmm either covered in maple syrup is good so…).
Then we had the gold of 12x11. Which was all about WHO DEAN REALLY IS DEEP DOWN.
AND IT HAD A FREAKING SCOOBY DOO REFERENCE (they knew they were going Scooby Doo in s13 at this point as they recorded it at the end of s12). AND IT’S A FREAKING PHALLIC JIZZ SQUIRTING SCOOBY DOO REFERENCE.
AT THE EXACT POINT WHEN DEAN THOUGHT HE MIGHT BE HAVING A 3-WAY WITH A HOT DUDE (he didn’t know it was his brother) AND A HOT LADY. AFTER HE HAD JUST RIDDEN LARRY AND IN A WHOLE EPISODE THAT SHOWED THAT HE IS REPRESSED AND HIDES A SIDE OF HIMSELF THAT IS BLATANTLY BISEXUAL AND LOVES DORY.
AN EPISODE THAT CAS COULDN’T POSSIBLY BE IN BECAUSE HE WOULD HAVE GIVEN THE GAME AWAY I MEAN JEEZ COULD YOU IMAGINE? HE WOULD HAVE BEEN ALL OVER CAS LIKE A RASH.
I’m am so not worried. If anything it’s a momentary regression to show a blatant change in Dean now if he does jokingly flirt with her then is rebuffed or backs out or whatever but really it’s probably a whole host of things. THEY ARE NOT GOING TO DO A DEAN/DAPHNE ANIMATED SEX SCENE OMG CAN YOU IMAGINE. It’s all about the character growth and the metaphor it stands for and what it tells us about DEAN if they do do this and jeez, this is all off the back of some throwaway comments when Jensen was asked specifically by some dude bro interviewer and laughed it off like yeah haha, “sparks fly” (which everyone associates with Cas anyway since 4x01 LMAO) and I haven’t seen Misha’s comment but man… this is probably just SO blown out of proportion.
But ok… let’s say they DO go there cos I think it’s actually a good idea re: exposition of Dean’s character growth.
Daphne is the epitome of Dean’s (old) fantasies.
She’s sweet natured, a cartoon so is reminiscent of his childhood, unthreatening. It could be so interesting and I’m actually looking forward to what they do here if they do, given how much they’re moving his character forwards now.
She’s also the badass fighter (occasionally, when the time is needed) who is in love with the tall blond leader of the group and is his emotional support…
Imma leave this here.
Character growth wise… man. We just had 12x22. Dean has been letting down his facade slowly for years and now it’s come crashing down. We know he is going to be A TOTAL MESS in 13x01 and most of this is about CAS. We know Cas does come back before this episode so… we will see SO MUCH of the fall out of Dean’s climax in 12x22 in his character growth in season 13. I CAN’T WAIT.
If we do have flirting it’s likely flirting that is backed out of, maybe Fred and Dean clash because they’re quite similar sometimes or Daphne actually flirts more with Cas and we get animated jealous dimples of discontent (Chuck I wish for this) or she flirts with Sam and it’s hilarious or whatever - who freaking knows.
I for one am not getting my panties in a twist and am actually really excited for what they could do with this for his character as I think it’s a part of his story in showing how he’s changed, because she is the epitome of his old fantasies, not a regression.
I mean have you SEEN seasons 1 - 12?! If they regress Dean’s character and he stays regressed and goes into dude bro no homo land now all hope is lost for any writer, showrunner or producer trying to write a character story on the CW. They clearly have no control or any clue what they’re freaking doing and are writing scripts with crayons.
It makes NO SENSE.
THIS THOUGH ^^^ THIS MAKES ALL THE SENSE WITH REGARDS TO WHAT THEY HAVE BUILT SO FAR OVER MORE THAN A DECADE AND ARE NOW BRINGING OUT INTO THE TEXT TO MAKE IT OBVIOUS FOR THE GA.
THIS IS PART OF THE EXPOSITION RE: WHO DEAN USED TO PROJECT TO BE AND WHO HE REALLY IS.