i cannot express how much this bonnie burstow quote fucks me up. i really can’t. 

“Often father and daughter look down on mother (woman) together. They exchange meaningful glances when she misses a point. They agree that she is not bright as they are, cannot reason as they do. This collusion does not save the daughter from the mother's fate.”

Do you have any tips/guides for writing abusive parents? How they act, and how a fight where they lash out at their child would be? I’m writing a story in which one of the main characters grows up with abusive parents that mistreat her because she doesn’t fit into society’s definition of ‘normal’ (they basically see her as a monster in the literal meaning of the word), and at one point they have a fight because the parents find out that she’s kept a secret close friendship from them for several years, and they snap at her for going behind their backs (despite the parents not really caring about her and what she’s up to normally) while simultaneously being skeptical of their friendship, what it entails, and what being friends with them child says about the friend.

The problem is that no matter how I try to write the scene, it feels dramatized, if that makes sense. I get the feeling that it becomes unrealistic or stereotypical, especially since I know that in abusive households, a lot of the aggression and communication happens without words. I’ve tried researching a bit, but I struggle to find anything that’s relevant, and my childhood struggles were (luckily) not related to abusive parents, so I don’t have many experiences to use as reference when writing.

Resources And Advice For Writing Abusive Parents

Your story sounds really intriguing! I don't have personal experience with this but I asked around and did some research, and I uncovered a lot of interesting facts. If just been looking for a bit of advice/resources, in which case you can scroll straight to the bottom of the blog where I have some resources and niche advice for you.

But, if you, or any other reader for that matter, needs general help in writing abusive parental figures, here is everything I've uncovered thus far.  

Understand The Abuser 

Most of the blogs I read stated it's important to first understand your abuser. While not excusing the behaviour, understanding the motivations behind the abuser's actions can make your portrayal more nuanced. Abusers often have their own traumas or issues.

Abusive parents can emerge from a variety of traumatic backgrounds, each influencing their behaviour in distinct ways. 

Some may have experienced abuse themselves, perpetuating a cycle they learned as children. Others might grapple with deep-seated insecurities, projecting their fears onto their children in an attempt to regain control. Understanding the diverse motivations behind abusive behaviour allows you to create a more authentic and layered portrayal of your characters.

You mentioned your character's parents mistreat her because she doesn't fit in the social norm, so start with figuring out why they're behaving this way. More often than not parental abusers abuse their children because they think they're 'saving' their child from something. 

This is a common trend in female relationships, i.e the mother will abuse her daughter in an attempt to 'protect' her from what the mother faced. A mother who faced fatphobia might become an almond mom, etc. 

The Motive 

Understanding their motive will help you build a reason for their abuse, and then you can create realistic reactions based on that. 

Let's continue with the almond mom example. Now, the mother might presume by verbally abusing her daughters and telling them to look/eat a certain way she shelters them from ever having to face this from other people. 

If the mother's purpose is to ensure her daughter doesn't gain weight then she would likely have a more subtle abuse style.  

So rather than having the mother snatch away the daughter's food in public and eat it for herself, the mother would take her daughter to a food court and fish out veggie bags from her purse claiming that is their lunch. 

Maybe she constantly checks the daughter's weight and takes away certain food privileges (carbs/sugar) depending on the changes.

First, figure this out, or if you're having a hard time, you could tell me their motive and I'll help you with some realistic reactions/abuse tactics. 

Complex Relationships

One important thing to understand about abusive parents is that at the end of the day. As children, we naturally crave parental approval, an instinct deeply embedded in our emotional fabric. This yearning persists even when we recognize the toxicity of the relationship. The deprivation of affection intensifies our desire for it, leading to a complex interplay of emotions.

In the context of your narrative, consider how your character might unconsciously seek their parents' approval despite the abusive dynamics. The power dynamics are not solely physical; emotional manipulation plays a significant role. An abusive parent's disapproval, expressed through statements like being disappointed or claiming their actions are for the child's benefit, can profoundly affect the abused child.

Perhaps their new friend is teaching them to detach from this mindset, something the parents deeply dislike and thus they want to distance your character from this friend to reinstate their control. 

The Emotional Turmoil That Comes With It 

Incorporating subtle cues to showcase your character's emotional turmoil can add layers to their experience of abuse. Consider a poignant example: your character choosing to wear a hoodie as a shield against the verbal assaults from their mother.  

Perhaps on a day when they wore a hoodie, their mother made a disparaging comment, implying that concealing certain features made them appear more "normal." This traumatic incident could prompt your character to adopt hoodies as a protective barrier against the verbal onslaught, highlighting the lasting impact of emotional abuse.

Abuse vs Negligence 

Exploring the nuances between abuse and negligence is crucial for creating a realistic portrayal of an abusive household. While physical and verbal abuse may be more visibly evident, neglect can be equally damaging, leaving lasting scars on a child's psyche.

Negligence encompasses a range of behaviours where parents fail to fulfil their responsibilities. This could involve emotional neglect, where a child's emotional needs are consistently ignored or dismissed. It might manifest as a lack of guidance, support, or affection, creating an environment where the child feels invisible or unimportant.

Moreover, neglect can extend to physical care, where parents neglect their child's basic needs, such as nutrition, hygiene, or medical attention. This form of neglect can have severe consequences on a child's health and well-being.

In your story, consider how neglectful behaviour intertwines with the abusive elements. Maybe the parents, consumed by their own issues, consistently overlook your character's struggles, reinforcing a sense of isolation and abandonment. 

This interplay between neglect and abuse can deepen the emotional impact on your character and provide a more comprehensive portrayal of their traumatic experiences. It can also help you build a more meaningful tie with this friend. Maybe your character befriended this friend at a time when they felt abandoned and rejected by everyone, including those who were supposed to care for them the most. 

Manipulation 

In the realm of abuse and negligence, manipulation becomes a powerful tool that abusers often wield to maintain control. It's essential to recognize the subtle ways in which manipulation seeps into the dynamics of an abusive relationship.

Manipulation in neglectful situations might involve gaslighting, where the parents distort the child's reality or dismiss their feelings and experiences. This psychological manipulation can make the child doubt their perceptions and question the validity of their emotions, further intensifying the emotional toll.

Abusers may use manipulation as a means to deflect responsibility, shifting the blame onto the child for their own neglectful behaviours. This can create a warped sense of guilt and shame within the child, fostering a belief that they are somehow responsible for the inadequate care they receive.

In your narrative, explore how manipulation intertwines with neglect. Perhaps the parents employ manipulative tactics to downplay the severity of their neglectful actions, creating a distorted narrative that serves their agenda. This manipulation can deepen the emotional trauma experienced by your character, adding layers to their complex relationship with their parents. 

General Resources 

Here are curated resources to aid you in portraying the complexities of abusive dynamics and crafting a scene that resonates truthfully:

Movies:

Precious (2009): A poignant exploration of abuse and resilience.

Sleepers (1996): Delves into the impact of childhood trauma.

Books:

The Glass Castle by Jeanette Walls: A memoir unravelling the intricacies of challenging family dynamics.

The Color Purple by Alice Walker: A powerful narrative addressing abuse and empowerment.

Real-Life Stories:

RAINN (Rape, Abuse & Incest National Network): Offers survivor stories and resources.

Domestic Violence Hotline: Real-life narratives and support.

Online Articles:

Psychology Today: A wealth of articles dissecting the nuances of abusive relationships.

National Domestic Violence Hotline Blog: Real stories and insightful perspectives.

Approach these resources with sensitivity, understanding that the subject matter can be triggering. Always prioritize your mental health and well-being while navigating the intense world of abusive relationships in your writing journey. 

Resources Specific To Your Question

My main advice would be to read personal accounts or case studies of individuals who have experienced abuse. This doesn't have to be real people, it can also be fictional characters. One character who comes to mind is Rapunzel. 

Hear me out—just like your character Rapunzel meets Flynn who is someone her mother does not like. The ending of Tangled is a scene that comes to mind. You mentioned a fear of seeming too dramatic, but you could showcase the parents suddenly showing their 'true colours' in order to reinstate control over their child. 

This can either backfire and the child realises it's now or never, they need to take a stand, or the child is terrified of the repercussions and gives in. Maybe you could write things like 'and suddenly, she was a five-year-old again, with tears and snot racing down her face as she begged her parents to simply look at her.' 

I hope this blog on Resources And Advice For Writing Abusive Parents will help you in your writing journey. Be sure to comment any tips of your own to help your fellow authors prosper, and follow my blog for new blog updates every Monday and Thursday.  

Looking For More Writing Tips And Tricks? 

Are you an author looking for writing tips and tricks to better your manuscript? Or do you want to learn about how to get a literary agent, get published and properly market your book? Consider checking out the rest of Haya’s book blog where I post writing and publishing tips for authors every Monday and Thursday! And don’t forget to head over to my TikTok and Instagram profiles @hayatheauthor to learn more about my WIP and writing journey! 

Preacher’s Daughter (The Last of Us - Joel Miller): Family Tree (Intro)

PREACHER’S DAUGHTER Family Tree (Intro)

series masterliest

Pairing: Joel Miller x OC

CONTENT WARNINGS: 18+ ONLY, MINORS DNI unprotected sex, religious trauma, gore, violence, swearing, explicit content, sexual violence.

Word Count: 610

Read on AO3 and Wattpad

PREACHER’S DAUGHTER Family Tree (Intro)

It was a rather repetitive dream, it seemed. Waking with breathless gasps, aching pains shooting up her spine, sheets wet with sweat. It was something that had haunted her throughout her youth: fists connecting with flesh, blades slashing through skin, bodies and limbs tangling together until she wasn’t sure whose fists were hurting who. The stench of men lingering heavy in the air, suffocating her until her last gasp before waking.

Now awake, she sits in the pew closest to the altar, knees bent and hands clasped. Having gotten there in the early hours of the morning, the sun was starting to creep through the stained glass windows as she hurriedly whispered her empty prayers. The large door at the end of the aisle begins to crack open, more light cascading in as she turns to squint at the light. All that is visible is the silhouette of him.

She quickly rises from her seat in the pew and runs her hands along her dress to brush out any wrinkles. She makes her way to the now open door, hopeful that he continues his way into the church. As she reaches the door, he stays planted in his position, and there is just enough room for her petite figure to slip past him.

The air of the brisk Oklahoma morning chills her skin and fills her lungs as she walks to the house next door. As she enters, she’s greeted with the sight of cardboard boxes skewed all across the front room. He must have been up all night packing. After her mother’s slow death, her father had accepted a position at a Baptist church in Austin. He wanted to be as far away from this town as possible.

His morning sermon would be beginning soon, and the congregation would begin to make their way into the church. She now stood silently at the entrance of the church, failing to greet the familiar faces as they said their good mornings. The dream from the night before continued to rattle inside of her. Screaming and fighting, blood spilling on the cold dirt of the ground. Trying to rub her hands free of the blood, only for it to be perpetually stained onto her skin.

Her name faintly being called is what draws her back to her position on the church steps. The entire congregation has already made their way into the church and her father approaches her. She turns her eyes to the ground, trying any way she can to not let him smell the alcohol on her breath that she had managed to keep stashed in her bedroom. She fails at this, however, as her father’s brows knit together in disappointment and his eyes grow cold.

“You know I raised you better than this,” he grumbles, grabbing her by the arm to spin her towards the aisle. They begin to walk together, and she swallows down the words she wants to spit at him. It was her mother that had raised her better than this. Her mother always helped her to stifle her anger to keep quiet.

As his sermon continues, his preaching grows louder and louder, demanding the silence of the crowd. His words ring through the church, and she���s trying to not grow envious of the Lord. Jesus could always reject his father, but he can never escape his mother’s blood.

"God is telling you and I there is death… for all of us,” his voice shouts. “But then we find that the scriptures also tell us that we have a great promise, that there is a better place for those who believe in the Lord Jesus Christ."

They are destroying Rebecca’s character this season and this Sam bullshit is the final nail in the coffin for her. What the f*** are they doing to their female lead ??

Well, I suppose this is the danger of offering resolution early in the piece and why so few television writers do it, particularly when it comes to romantic relationships. Because then there is the looming question of What Happens Next. So many writers prove that, while they may have the imaginative juice to create, they don't have what it takes to re-invent.

Whether you understand her as the protagonist or the antagonist of the first season of Ted Lasso, Rebecca's big revenge plot drove s1, gave it a clear narrative arc. This inaugural season likewise gave her character a clear and compelling arc. You could posit that, while Rebecca's pain drove season 1, Ted's pain is meant to be driving season 2...? But whatever Ted is going through does not have as clear-cut an objective so it is not giving the same sense of cohesion or direction. Within her s1 arc, we got to see Rebecca feel angry, frustrated, victorious, smug, thwarted, conflicted, heart-broken and vulnerable. Last season gave Hannah Waddingham so many opportunities to show the range of her skills as an actor and I still hope she wins an Emmy for this performance. But I doubt she will be winning any awards for her performance this season.

Most situation comedies stick to the same situation, snapping their characters back to where they were at the beginning of each episode. Certainly, this formula can become repetitive and dull after years. Ted Lasso received a great deal of praise when it broke this formula by offering resolution at the end of its first season no less. It broke the no-hugging-no-learning mantra of so many sitcoms when it allowed Rebecca to learn from her trauma, come clean and literally embrace Ted as a valuable part of her life. Since her character went on the biggest journey of the season, the question of What Happens Next was always going to be more significant for her than it was for any other character on the show.

Season 1 of Ted Lasso made me fall in love with Hannah Waddingham and the character of Rebecca Welton. But as much as it pains me to say it, in s2 she is nothing like the problematic powerhouse we met in s1. Her friendships with Keeley and Higgins continue on nicely enough. She's had some good moments with characters she had little interaction with in s1, like Roy and Nate. And it was great to meet her mother and god-daughter. But this fleshing out of the character is mostly work around her rather than work that propels her forward in any meaningful way. I understand that some people may be content just to watch Rebecca living her best life after the intensity of last season. But, for me, the pursuit of heterosexual romantic love by a woman to the exclusion of all else is a problematic aim since women have been told for centuries that securing a man is the single most important thing they can achieve in their lives.

Rebecca wants love and doesn't want to be alone. She's stated that, that's canon and that's fine. But romance seems to be Rebecca's ONLY aim, her single focus. We haven't seen her do anything in her role as club owner except make a phone call and look sharp, which I admit she does well. The woman looks INCREDIBLE. But if you are in your right mind (at least in my opinion), you are not expecting this amazing woman to end up with a pretentious windbag, a hot booty call or a wildly inappropriate youngster. So it all seems a bit aimless, purposeless. All of this dithering about with wrong dudes is just a waste of time when we have limited time with these beloved characters. We know we are only getting three short seasons of this show and I don't want to spend a full season watching a previously complex female character stare at her phone, only ever prompted into (questionable) action by her cute best friend. And I DEFINITELY don't want to watch...whatever the fuck they think this thing is with Sam.

Frankly, I am still flabbergasted that they have chosen this path. They genuinely seem to think that their audience will enjoy this as some hot romantic adventure...? And hey, a small but vocal minority are. Some diehard fans are trying to hold onto their faith with white knuckles. And the rest of us are just over here in compete and utter shock at the suddenness of the decline in this show's quality and ethics. The latest justification some fans are rather desperately grasping at seems to be that Rebecca's actions stem from her trauma. Now...okay. Trauma can be responsible for many things. But not this. Trauma can make you act in v strange ways but I don't see the connection here. I can clearly see how Rebecca's trauma from her first marriage dictated her actions towards Ted in s1. That is a very clear line to draw. I can see how, after her disastrous marriage, her judgement may be off and she may go for someone like John Wingsnight: someone safe, solid and appropriate. Again, a clear line to draw. I can also see why she would indulge in fun, shallow sexual relationships with the waiter in Liverpool and her booty call from bantr. All normal, understandable behaviour for a woman in her situation. And a v clear narrative line for the writers to draw. No problems there. Her actions in each of these cases can be traced back to Rupert and his abuse. But I cannot for the life of me draw a line between Rupert and Sam. As a traumatic reaction, that does not make a shred of sense to me.

It's true that sometimes those who have been abused become abusers, not that I'm saying Rebecca is abusing Sam in this scenario. What I am saying is that most trauma survivors will go out of their way to avoid becoming anything like their abusers. Most survivors try their damnedest to break the cycle of abuse, not perpetuate it. Most victim-survivors will act, sometimes even to their own detriment, to spare others from being impacted by their pain and trauma. Trauma and abuse does not break your moral compass. If anything, it makes it stronger. Trauma and abuse heightens your sensitivity to what is right, just and honest. Having seen Rebecca ultimately unable to follow through in her trauma-inspired revenge plot on Ted, it does not make sense to me that she is blindly (without any of the nuanced inner conflict of s1 Rebecca) allowing her trauma and abuse to lead her into a situation that not only emulates her ex-husband's hurtful, unethical behaviour, but endangers what is now supposed to be so valuable to her.

All the press for s2 as spruiked Rebecca as a dating disaster but enthusiastically committed to her club. There is a huge difference, however, between charmingly, comedically 'messy' and inept to the point of self-destructive stupidity. I just don't buy her as this dumb. Yet here she is, after all her dealings with the savage British press last season, endangering the reputation of herself, her club and one of its most vulnerable players. Oddly enough, the Rebecca we saw in s1, with her many layers and nuances, seems to me to be a far more moral (not to mention interesting) rendering of this character. This Rebecca was motivated by injustice, she had an acute understanding of what was and wasn't right. It's why she conceived of her revenge plot and also why she ultimately dropped it. It is one thing for writers to propose that there are multiple steps on the way to healing. It is one thing for them to lead a character into a dark forest full of conflict and complication. But, from what I can tell, some people don't know the difference between a dark forest and straight-up bad writing. And it really fucking shows.

The Family We Choose - Harry Lewis

Requested: Yes ~ Hi Nikki, hope you are well! I was just wondering if you could write an imagine where the reader doesn't want biological kids (if you are comfortable writing about it) and Harry finds out either through a discussion or a sidemen video or really however. The ending would be completely up to you and how you see fit. I just adore your writing, especially about Harry. Thank you x

Four years had passed since your miscarriage, everything seemed to have fallen into place. You had graduated with a first degree in psychology and had applied to do a masters in counselling. Harry had flourished in his YouTube career, his sub count reaching a number that he could have only had dreamed of, four years ago. Your relationship went from strength to strength. However, despite all of that, it was clear that Harry wanted to be a dad. As much as you loved Harry, you couldn’t bring yourself to try for another child any time soon. The trauma you had been healing from, was still too fresh for you to risk opening up that wound again.

No matter how hard you tried though, you couldn’t bring yourself to tell him. Even with all the therapy sessions that you attended, mixed with the fact that Harry insisted that the miscarriage wasn’t your fault — you couldn’t help but blame yourself. It was your default, considering it was your body that had failed with carrying the baby to full term. Yet, with each passing day Harry tried to hint more at the fact that he wanted to try starting a family again.

It all got too much, when he had purchased a baby grow, wrapped it and placed it in a gift bag. Leaving it on the kitchen counter for you to find. Which left you no choice but to nip it in the bud. As much as you hated the thought of disappointing Harry, you couldn’t let this go on. The more that he hinted, the worse that you felt. Which just perpetuated a nasty cycle of guilt.

Baby grow in hand, you went to find Harry. Who, was more than likely in your shared bedroom streaming. The nerves and knots in your stomach multiplied tenfold as you made your way up the stairs. A prominent lump in your throat formed, just at the thought of disappointing him. You waited for Harry to end his stream, before entering the bedroom.

You sat down on the bed, opposite Harry. As you passed him the gift bag, you made direct eye-contact for the first time. A sigh escaped your lips, as you placed one hand in the other, trying to comfort yourself.

“I’m not ready to try for another baby yet, Harry.” You told him, breaking the silence that had been comforting you for a few brief moments. He simply nodded, you could see he was mulling over the information you had just provided him with.

“I understand. But, I was thinking, because I know how much you want to be a mum too… whether adoption would be an option for us? It wouldn’t have to be a baby, there’s so many children out there that need loving homes. Despite the little donny not being ours biologically, we’d still be their mum and dad.”

“I can’t promise anything… but I’m willing to go through the process. We might find the right child for us, we might not.”

—

A long six months had passed since Harry and yourself had applied to be prospective adoptive parents. You had gone through various tests, had to provide recommendations, and had to undergo a DBS check. You were just hoping that you would find the child that you wanted to adopt as your own after how rigorous the background tests and paperwork was.

It was a wet Tuesday afternoon when the phone rang. You decided to answer, as Harry was far too nervous. He sat right next to you though, trying to gage what the person on the other end of the phone was saying. He took your hand in his, rubbing circles into your thumb; an attempt at trying to calm himself down as well as trying to get you through the phone call too.

“Hi, is this Miss Y/L/N and Mr Lewis?” The feminine voice on the other side asked. You confirmed that it was you, as you nervously anticipated what she was about to say.

“I’m pleased to inform you that you’ve been accepted to adopt. We have also found a child that we would like you to come and meet tomorrow. It’s a little girl, she doesn’t have any health issues and she is three years of age.”

You agreed to go and meet your prospective child, the excitement finally hitting you. Although you weren’t going to be this child’s biological mother, you were sure you could be able to love her as if she was your biological daughter, and that’s all that mattered really.

You turned to Harry and told him, as you both jumped up and hugged each other. Being able to bask in your excitement for a few moments.

“I always wanted a little girl, and I guess we don’t need to go through the many sleepless nights.” He beamed.

—

The next day, you were woken up by Harry. As you rolled over, checking the alarm clock next to you it was nine in the morning. Harry being out of bed before you, meant that he was beyond excited. He loved his sleep more than anything.

You both got dressed and made your way to the adoption agency. A mixture of nervousness and excitement filled the car journey. Neither of you knowing what to say, but enjoying it nonetheless.

As you walked in hand in hand, the confirmation that you were doing the right thing by yourselves set in. The children’s finger paintings that hung on the walls, was something that you were missing in your house. It was going to be chaotic, but living with Harry already provided that. It wasn’t going to be out of the norm.

A social worker, the one who you had assumed had phoned you escorted you into the office. She went over some of the essentials, things you needed to know about the process, things you were and weren’t allowed to say in order to not only protect yourself, but the child too. After the brief meeting, you were told that she was going to go and get the little girl, and told you to sit there.

A few moments later, the social worker emerged again, this time with a little girl in tow. A brown teddy girl hung limply from the girls other hand, as she hid behind the social worker. Obviously a little bit timid.

Harry got up from his chair, and walked around to her, bending down on his knees before offering her a handshake. “Hi little lady, my name’s Harry. What’s yours?”

“My name’s Olivia.” She responded, her voice small. Still unsure.

You got up from your chair, following Harry’s example and bending down on your knees too.

“I’m Y/N.” You said, introducing yourself. “That teddy bear is really cute. I used to have one, just like him called Mr. Snuggles.” You continued, giving the girl a small smile.

“Did you have to rescue him from the hundred acre wood too?” Olivia asked, intrigued.

“Oh, I had to fight off the fiercest lions and snakes for him.” You responded, playfully. Which caused Olivia to giggle.

“So, Olivia… we were wondering if you’d like to come out on a picnic to the park with us?” Harry asked her. “We can make sure that teddy comes along too, we promise that we’ll fight off any lions and snakes that threaten him.”

“As long as you push me really high on the swings.”

Harry nodded, assuring her they had a deal. Olivia took your hand as you led her to the car, and strapped her into the children’s car seat that you had purchased the night before.

Harry drove you the short distance to the local park. She took Harry’s hand this time, still clinging onto her teddy bear. Which you presumed provided her with a sense of security that she craved.

As soon as she entered the playground, she made a beeline for the swings. Harry, having to hit a slow jog to be able to keep up with her. He fulfilled his promise of pushing her as high as he could, whilst not going too high for fear of scaring her. As you looked on and watched, you knew that Olivia was the little person that was going to make your family whole. She fit perfectly. She was the family that you had chosen.

Fic: Love Languages

Headcanon suggested by a lovely anon, which spawned into a fic. Read on Ao3 or under the cut.

Words of affirmation

Receiving compliments or words of encouragement are not uncommon for Namaari. She has gone through life aiming to be the best at everything she does – the best leader, the best warrior, the best Princess – and along with her success come compliments on her fighting techniques, her decision-making skills, and even her ability to look formidable in her formal attire.

As royalty, people lavish her with praises when they see an opportunity to get into her good graces, despite the obvious lack of sincerity behind their words, and it tires her to deal with fawning citizens. She loves her people, but she’d rather they’d love her back truly; false words mean nothing.

Chief Virana does not give out compliments easily, and is often faster to critique than to encourage. Namaari pretends her mother’s approval is nothing more than something important to receive from her Chief, but in reality, she craves hearing soft words such as ‘well done, Morning Mist’, whenever she is lucky enough to have them bestowed upon her.

As she grows up, she decides that sweet words are nice to have, but ultimately unnecessary – nothing more than a nod of acknowledgement is needed, before one can place it aside and move on to more important things. And then Raya comes back into her life.

Raya, who can flirt endlessly with elaborate innuendos until Namaari rolls her eyes at her ridiculousness. Raya, who is quite happy to press herself closer than absolutely necessary in their sparring sessions, just to set out some unspoken physical challenge.

And yet, when it comes to providing a genuine compliment, Raya practically freezes.

‘I like…like your hair,’ she mumbles one day to Namaari, glancing off to the side in order to avoid making eye contact. Her cheeks are flushed bright red, even though earlier in the day she had made a lewd comment about a sword which didn’t even have her blinking.

For some reason, Raya’s lack of suaveness when it comes to providing true compliments delights Namaari, and she hoards each instance close to her heart, happy in the knowledge that every word spoken was genuine in its meaning.

In return, she starts to gift Raya with compliments of her own.

For Raya is not used to receiving compliments, at least not in a long time. Her Ba used to provide encouragement and compliments often, but that was many years ago, and now he hesitates to put them into words sometimes, unsure of how this new dynamic works when he’s looking at a grown-up daughter rather than a small child.

Namaari has no difficulty in sharing them though.

‘You look very beautiful today,’ she tells Raya softly one evening, when they are having dinner. Raya stammers out some incomprehensible response, and spends the rest of the meal staring down at her bowl, occasionally darting her eyes over to Namaari.

‘I love that hairstyle on you,’ Namaari says to her a few days later, watching as Raya braids her hair back with expert precision.

‘Umm…thanks?’ Raya squeaks.

‘Your techniques were excellent today,’ Namaari informs her after a sparring session. This time, Raya just nods, and clears her throat before trying to awkwardly change the subject. Namaari can still see the smile on her lips though.

Eventually, Raya becomes better at both giving and receiving words of affirmation. Namaari learns how true compliments can be more meaningful than expected.

It isn’t the most important aspect of their relationship, but they like to encourage each other all the same.

Acts of service

Raya sees how much of a burden Namaari perpetually takes onto her shoulders, in her duties for Fang. She is so focused on helping her people rebuild and expand, or going away on diplomatic missions to help form better relations with the other lands, that she forgets to take a moment to breath sometimes.

Raya wants to take some of her stress away, by helping her carry out some of her duties or at least be involved in organizing certain aspects of the expansion projects, but she discovers quickly that Namaari is somewhat of a perfectionist. It is almost more stressful for her to find herself out of the loop or uninformed about decisions, than it would be to allow her undertake the duties in the first place, and so Raya finds it more helpful to just back off from the work unless asked to provide support.

It’s also a way for Namaari to feel as if she is atoning for her past actions. Raya wishes she wouldn’t feel the need to do so, but it is something they’ve argued about before, and they always end up stuck in a perpetual loop.

One of the ways Raya can help however, is with her cooking.

Namaari is an awful cook (something Raya unfortunately discovers herself with one ill-fated meal), but she is fascinated by watching Raya conjure something up in the kitchen.

Gone are the days of living off jackfruit jerky; with so many fresh and interesting ingredients at her disposal, and with the occasional reminders from Ba when she is unsure about something, Raya makes a whole array of different foods over the months.

It’s one of the best ways of getting Namaari to relax, Raya finds. Every mealtime when Raya is behind the pot, Namaari will abandon whatever work she is doing, and will sit and watch Raya finish making the dishes. They’ll always eat it together, and for a short while, Raya can feel the stress lift free from Namaari as she laughs over Raya’s words and enjoys good food.

Gifts

The first gift Namaari ever gave Raya has almost become a symbol for their entire complicated history. It represents new friendship, betrayal, and after so many years…forgiveness and a fresh start.

Namaari gives it back to her not long after the return of Kumandra, before she can second-guess herself.

‘It was a gift,’ she says, half-expecting it to be thrown back in her face. But Raya runs her finger gently over the surface of the dragon pendant, and then sends her a small smile. The next day, Namaari sees it hanging around her neck once more.

Once they start dating properly, Namaari can’t get it out of her mind how much the gift seemed to mean to Raya, both times.

‘She still doesn’t have that many personal belongings,’ Namaari informs Sisu, as an explanation as to why she was forcing the dragon to accompany her around endless market stalls in Talon, looking for the perfect gift for Raya. ‘I figure it’s because she was on the move so much in life, she couldn’t carry a lot.’

Sisu makes an ‘mmm’ sound, clearly not buying her reasoning completely, but allows the topic to drop when she’s distracted by shiny objects at the next stall.

Namaari finds a small knife that can be strapped to a wrist and slipped up the sleeve. She knows how much Raya prefers to be carrying at least one weapon with her at all times, and this would be perfect for diplomatic meetings – subtle, and easy to hide. And indeed, Raya wears it continuously after receiving it as a gift.

On another visit to another market, this time in Spine, Namaari spies a comb with a beautifully carved handle.

‘For your hair,’ she says in an attempt to be casual, thrusting it awkwardly in Raya’s direction that evening. Raya loves it, and it is indeed used every night before bed to comb out her braids.

Every time Namaari has to travel on diplomatic missions, she now ensures that she brings back something small for Raya.

‘I love the gifts,’ Raya tells her one day. ‘But I love even more how it shows you’re thinking of me when you’re away.’

One evening, as they are getting ready for bed, a small golden ring drops out of Namaari’s pocket by mistake.

‘Is…is that my old hair band?’ Raya asks, peering over the side of the bed as Namaari scoops it up in a hurry. ‘I thought I’d lost that years ago.’

‘I found it,’ Namaari says defensively, clutching it tight in her fist. ‘I guess…I never asked you if you wanted it back?’

Raya shakes her head with a smile, but the following evening, she steps up behind Namaari, sliding her hand into her pocket. Namaari watches as she pulls out the hair band and threads it onto a small gold chain.

From then on, they both wear a gift from the other around their necks.

Physical touch

Sometimes, everything can become overwhelming, the past traumas so great that it seems suffocating. And in that darkness, sometimes the gentle touch of another is the only thing keeping the world grounded.

Raya goes six long years without receiving a hug. At the time, she doesn’t see it as a big deal – she’s grown up fast, and learnt that the world isn’t the welcoming place her father once hoped it could be. Even moreso, her Ba was the last one to hug her, and she doesn’t mind keeping it that way.

Now though, she finds comfort in the small touches. It’s in the featherlight way Namaari’s nose brushes against her neck as they curl up together in bed, waiting for the morning sun to rise. It’s in the gentle trail of Namaari’s fingers across her back, as they stand talking to others, and Namaari absentmindedly reaches out for her. It’s in the soft kiss against her temple, when Namaari has to go back to work after lunch.

Occasionally, she will need to be encompassed by that comfort, and in this moment, she will go and find Namaari, stepping closer until her forehead rests on her shoulder. No matter what she was previously doing, Namaari will pause everything, wrapping her arms tightly around Raya, and they stand there until Raya can feel as if she can breathe again.

Namaari has a habit of falling too far into her own mind sometimes. She is an outwardly composed and pragmatic individual, but internally, all sorts of doubts and guilt still plague her, and there are days where she can’t shake off the feeling that she isn’t doing enough in her life to atone for her past, or that she is a fraud who has no right in stepping up and trying to lead her people when her previous actions cost them so much.

It’s difficult for her to ask for help in these moments. Raya learns instead to notice the signs of a bad day, or whenever Namaari gets trapped into a downwards spiral, and she will take Namaari by the hands and sit them somewhere quiet.

There they can actually talk, and sometimes Namaari feels comfortable enough to share her fears. But the most important thing, Raya finds, is to slide an arm around her shoulders, pulling her in tight and peppering her cheek and bare shoulder with small kisses.

Raya refuses to let her go until she sees at least one small smile.

Quality time

In the early days of the relationship, there is still so much separation between the two of them. Raya is in Heart, helping her Ba welcome back everyone to their lands, fixing up the buildings, ensuring the harvest gets started…There are so many jobs to do, and Raya knows Namaari is undergoing the same issues back in Fang, coupled with an expansion of their kingdom.

On top of all of this, there are endless council meetings and diplomatic missions, so if it isn’t Namaari being busy with politics, it is Raya, much to her annoyance.

Whenever they do get to spend time together, they ensure no minute is wasted. They have meals together, and spar together, and find all sorts of random ways to entertain themselves. Namaari loves to go out in the evenings and watch the night sky, attempting to teach the constellations to Raya; but Raya decides that these constellations are ridiculous, and so they create their own. Raya meanwhile loves to go for hikes in the woods, dragging Namaari along to discover new plants and wildlife, and occasionally climbing the trees.

They both love to sit in bed next to each other, quietly reading their books, or discussing their day. Sometimes, Raya will lie sideways on the bed, her stomach across Namaari’s legs and her arms hanging over the edge, so she can carve pieces of wood into intricate shapes, with Namaari reads out loud for the both of them.

Even after several years, and living together permanently, Raya finds herself reflecting on the fact that she never gets bored as long as she’s with Namaari.

They are currently lying in a field somewhere in the depths of Heart land, enjoying the sun shining onto their faces and the grass tickling their skin. She lazily wiggles her hand until it makes contact with Namaari.

‘Dep la?’ Raya whispers, and Namaari grunts in response. ‘You don’t get bored with me, right?’

Namaari merely shuffles closer without even opening an eye, resting her cheek against Raya’s shoulder.

‘Don’t be stupid,’ she mumbles, and she’s curled up so close that Raya can feel the vibrations of her voice on her skin.

‘Didn’t think so,’ Raya says in satisfaction. They continue to enjoy the peace.

Draco admires you with your kids and their friends

SOFT || Draco Malfoy

Requested: Yes Pairing: post-war Draco Malfoy x fem!reader Warnings: one minor injury that involves blood but other than that, nothing!

WORDS : 1767

~

“Cass, come on, please put that down?” Draco asks with an exasperated tone as he runs after your daughter- who’s running around the living room with an evil giggle. “Scorpius, don’t you dare-“

Draco gets cut off by the sound of glass shattering as your son, Scorpius, and his friend, Liam, drop a vase off the table. He stops mid-run and sighs heavily as he runs his hands down his face.

Draco has always wanted children. For as long as he can remember he’s wanted children so that he could fill the gaping hole that was left by the lack of affection from his father. But that same hole, that very same resulting trauma, has always made him think that he just can’t do it, that he’ll end up exactly like his own father. And it’s always moments like these that make him doubt his abilities, moments like these that make him wonder if in comparison to his own father he’s too soft.

Draco would’ve never gotten away with half the stuff that your children do at this age, but also he never really had much of a childhood anyway. In a way, being a stay-at-home dad helps him make up for that and recover long lost moments of adolescence that he never had the opportunity to experience. Moments like this, in which he has to chase around your chaotic children and try not to get drunk on the sound of their elated and mischievous giggles, that he still doesn’t know if he’s earned it yet, despite the fact that he’s become a teddy bear in comparison to his own father.

The first time the two of you had discussed children you’d both agreed that one of you would be a stay-at-home parent, and at the time you’d been happy to follow in your mother’s footsteps and volunteer for the role. But then you fell pregnant and hesitated to submit your resignation papers so, in a moment of rushed and haphazard courage, Draco resigned instead and fully committed to the stay-at-home dad lifestyle, despite his perpetual fear of failure, so that you could have the advantage of both motherhood and a successful career. Draco hated his ministry job and you, paradoxically, did not- it was a win-win situation.

So now he stands in your living room, wearing an apron with your daughter’s favourite tv character on it, feeling very exasperated and out of sorts at the overwhelming responsibility of having to supervise your children’s playdates.

You walk into the living room and take in the scene- Cass, holding one of Draco’s old academic trophies as her and Jade run around with paint on their faces, and the boys wrestling on the ground, awkwardly close to the remnants of a broken vase- stopping behind your husband to wrap your arms around his waist and plop a kiss up onto his cheek. He softens into your touch and turns to kiss the side of your forehead before you sink off your tiptoes and onto the heels of your feet. “Need some help?”

To say that your twins are a handful would be an understatement, now add to that two other children with just as much chaotic energy? An absolute disaster. You’d told Draco that taking them to the zoo or the park for the playdate would’ve been a better idea but he insisted on celebrating the twin’s birthday at home and you’d obliged to his wishes. Now, he regrets not listening to you.

“If you don’t mind, that would be great.” He pouts at you and you laugh lightly at his frustration.

“Boys, break it up. Girls, freeze right now.” All the kids halt their movements and quickly turn their heads to face you with wide eyes, “There’s a cake that needs to be cut up and eaten in the next thirty minutes but I don’t think you have earned it.”

“No, we have!”

“Please mum? We’ve been good!”

Draco scoffs at your daughter’s blatant lie of having been good and you bite back a smile. “I’m sure you have, but if you really want the cake then I’m going to need you all to play a couple of games of hide and seek outside first. The winner gets the biggest slice.”

They all squeal in excitement and hurry to run out to the garden so that they can play. You quickly mutter a charm to repair the vase and turn to your husband who’s looking at you with a mixture of exhaustion and adoration.

“You’re my saviour.” He breathes out and you smile, “Somehow you spend less time with them and still manage to handle them better.”

“A mother’s touch love.” You giggle and give him a quick peck.

“I wish this mother would touch me.” He hints as he pulls you in by the waist with a grin.

“You’re so-“

A sharp cry from down the hall cuts you off and you both sigh. “I’ll go get him.” You reply.

“I’ll get the cake ready.”

~

The kids all come running into the kitchen excitedly at the sound of your voice calling for them to get cake. You smile at the sound of their giggles erupting into the kitchen as you play with the recently awoken baby in your arms, but your smile is gone as quick as it came at the sound of a light yelp and cry coming from one of the older kids.

Without missing a beat you rush toward the sound and find that it’s Jade harbouring a thin, but rather long, cut along the expanse of her leg and right below her knee. Draco can see that you’re moving to help her and he holds his hands out for the baby but you pay him no attention and, somehow, manage to lift the 8 year-old into your other arm and carry her up onto the kitchen counter- while still straddling your son on your hip.

“What happened sweetie?” You ask your friend’s daughter gently as you make to grab antiseptic, cotton wool and a bandage from under the sink- the place you and Draco had taken to storing them after the kids came back from playing outside with injuries one too many times.

“I think I scraped my leg against the edge of the little gate by the door.” She points toward the door that leads out to the garden and you nod in acknowledgement- knowing exactly which gate she’s referring to.

“Come here my little skittles, give mum some space to breathe.” Draco figures it’s best not to interrupt you and gestures for the other children to come toward him. They all shuffle their feet against the tile nervously as they keep their eyes trained on their friend.

“I’m so sorry love, we’ll make sure to get that fixed for next time you come over, yeah?” You ask her with furrowed eyebrows and she nods perkily. “This is going to hurt a bit, but I know that you’re a very brave girl so if you can close your eyes, count to ten for me and squeeze my hand that would be great.” She nods and follows your instructions- grabbing hold of your outstretched hand that sits underneath the baby’s bottom- while you dowse some cotton wool in antiseptic and drag it softly down the injury.

She winces but doesn’t cry, counting to ten as instructed and trying to focus on the promise of cake waiting or her, and soon enough you’ve already draped the bandage over her leg.

Draco watches the scene unfold with a look of admiration coating his features. It’s in this moment that he sees why you became an auror- no matter the situation you always present a fierce, prepared and oddly comforting energy- it’s one of the reasons he fell so deeply in love with you and it’s a quality of yours that he hopes both of your children will inherit.

“Thank you aunt Y/N.” She smiles up at you and your heart wrenches at the sight. You give her a kiss on the forehead and help her off the counter.

“You are very welcome, Jade. And I think you’ve earned the biggest slice of cake, what do you guys think?” You turn to the other children with an inquisitive gaze and they all nod quickly in agreement- wanting desperately to make their injured friend feel better. “Okay, bottoms in seats then!”

All the kids scramble to find seats around the table as you go about handing them each a plate with cake in it- making sure to give Jade the biggest slice. 
Draco knows that he should feel envious at how easily you get the kids to bend at your will despite the fact that he spends way more time with them, but all he can feel is an immense sense of love and pride swelling in his heart. He feels soft.

He knows that the ‘woman can have it all’ mantra is often misleading and impractical but the truth is that you can have it all. Somehow you juggle your family and work so well it almost looks flawless, and while he knows how hard you work to keep it all steady, he still always finds himself speechless at how well you do it. Even after spending countless nights reassuring you that you’re not a bad mother for wanting a career, he can’t seem to understand why you’d ever doubt your abilities when he watches you in action.

Badass auror in the papers, loving mother in the house and generous lover in the-

“Draco?”

“Oh, sorry love, did you say something?” He blinks back his thoughts and smiles down at you.

You tilt your head backwards in a laugh and move to hand your husband the baby, “I was asking what you want to get for dinner? Blaise and Luna are picking up Jade and Liam soon so I thought that maybe we could just order in for dinner tonight?”

“That sounds lovely actually, I’m not particularly interested in cooking or eating Flora’s burnt food.” He says with a grimace- referring to your very incompetent house elf.

“You really should fire her.”

“She’s got nowhere else to go.” He pouts and you roll your eyes.

“When did you become so soft?” You raise your eyebrows at him and he shrugs as he watches you speak sweetly to your son that he’s got in his arms.

In that moment he already knows the answer, he became so soft the minute you came into his life, and he wouldn’t want it any other way.

“I won hide and seek by the way, so that cake was rightfully mine.” Scorpius grumbles out- even though he wears the signature Malfoy grin on his lips- and you all laugh at his random outburst.

<~>

So there’s my first ever request! I hope I did it justice, it was a little difficult to put someone else’s vision down and into words but it was a really nice challenge and I’d like to do more so please feel free to request moreeee.

Jean <3

Hi my favourite Buckley Siblings person. I need some serotonin after reading some horrifically hot takes that basically said that Maddie and Buck is not a healthy dynamic and she has no boundaries when it comes to him.

So, I was wondering if you could give your too reasons as to why the Buckley siblings are elite? 💜

Isn't that always the curse of the eldest daughter? To be invalidated in your feelings and your trauma because you're expected to perform to an expectation that can be crippling. There's a joke somewhere along the lines of "are you an overachiever or were you just the eldest daughter?" that seems fitting this morning.

I mean let's talk about Margaret and Philip's history of invalidating their children's feelings for a second.

They forced Maddie to never talk about a brother who died that she remembered and had known for most of her life. Maddie was nine. She would've been a fourth grader! She was a kid who still had to walk in a single file line down the halls. Do you know what the big deal was when I was in fourth grade? I got to have my classes upstairs on the second floor. That was the big monumental life change for me in that grade. It was a big deal.

Maddie was a fourth grader who lost her brother, didn't even have a grasp of the concept of what death meant, was told to pretend Daniel didn't exist, and was aware enough that her whole life had changed.

That's a fourth grader being told never to talk about someone ever again. A fourth grader who is then taken away from her home, her memories, her friends and forced to pretend like nothing was wrong.

There's a reason emotional neglect has such a clear through line to later in life abuse. It's this idea that Margaret and Philip perpetuated with Maddie that there has to be this performance. Nobody understands our suffering and judges us. It both alienates a child and teaches said child that the world will not understand you if things are different. You see that with the way Maddie hides things with Doug, she makes excuses for him, it's different with her and Doug, she judges other victims of domestic abuse when they come into the hospital, and she deflects. All of this she learned from her parents.

Maddie hiding the abuse 🤝 Margaret and Philip hiding Daniel's death/their grief

Maddie making excuses for Doug 🤝 Philip making excuses for Margaret

It's different with her and Doug 🤝 Philip and Margaret crying victim about people judging them for having Buck because obviously that's not the same thing as other people who procreate children to save other children

Maddie judging other victims 🤝 Margaret and Philip judging Maddie for attaching herself onto someone who loves her (questionable but I think in Doug's own way he did)

Maddie deflecting about the abuse 🤝 Margaret and Philip deciding to move away and never talk about Daniel again

You see them do it again and again to Maddie ("You don't know what it's like you're not a mother yet") so it's no wonder Maddie does it to herself. She'd gotten used to it. You see her do it to herself with Buck, Chimney, Sue, Josh, and then for a brief moment when she's struggling with the PPD.

Maddie deflects but she also makes a point to not let Buck do that. That's why it's so meaningful that she came to talk to him after he revealed he was going to therapy because she thought he wouldn't want to talk about it freely with Chimney around. That's why she prods when Buck makes excuses for Abby's behavior towards him. That's why her scene where she calls Buck sad and lonely is so important. That sticks with Buck and instead of getting angry about it, he tries to get help. But then he does the same for her too "Because I always felt like you were sad too."

Meanwhile in regards to Buck, we see Margaret and Philip objectify Buck from before he was even born. I think a lot of people forget that objectifying someone doesn't strictly imply sexually. Being a donor baby already comes in a severe degree of objectification (you can see this as a major argument in regards to the whole concept of donor siblings ie the book Never Let Me Go by Kazuo Ishiguro for example). Margaret and Philip objectified Buck from conception and when it didn't work, they didn't put the work in to shift that way of viewing Buck. He remained an object to them. He was never a baby, he was a thing. "We live with a reminder staring us in the face." They didn't just invalidate Buck. They didn't let Buck be a person.

And Buck had grown up being objectified his whole life which is why he doesn't even react when people are constantly doing it to him (people on the job, Abby, Bobby and the team to a certain extent.) I think it's interesting the way he reacts when Omar does the same thing when Maddie introduces him.

Maddie: Omar, this is my brother, Evan.

Omar: Oh, yeah, the football star.

Buck is so visibly uncomfortable when he says that it actually hurts my soul which is why that scene where Buck says "I'm going to be something... I just-- I don't know what it is yet" is so important. Because Maddie has spent her entire life being invalidated and she goes out of her way to make sure that doesn't happen with Buck. She validates Buck. She reminds him that he's a person. That he is someone.

So, when Maddie gives Buck the keys and the money to go away, she's not just giving him an escape. She's giving him permission to go be someone.

What I think people sometimes forget is that the trauma Buck experienced (the neglect which in my personal opinion, is a form of abuse though I know the technicalities are a gray point) was also what Maddie experienced. The difference is that Maddie got to be a person. She got to be their daughter. Their choice. Wanted. Buck wasn't given that consideration.

So, she did it. Maddie changed the course of trajectory for Buck.

And she started that when she was nine years old. A fourth grader decided that she was going to want this unwanted baby.

Maddie wasn't fighting her parents in Buck Begins about being able to talk to Daniel. She wasn't even fighting because they were invalidating her feelings again! She was fighting them because they were back in their lives and treating Buck like he wasn't a person again. She was fighting them because they came into town and gave a lackluster attempt at trying check and make sure Buck was fine before they dismissed him.

And Maddie wasn't going to let them do that again.

I mean just think about the "Don't be stupid, Evan"/"Don't talk to him like that" scene. It's so understated how significant those two lines are. It speaks volumes of the way Margaret in particular has diminished Buck's capacity as a human being and how she'd done it enough times that Maddie immediately jumps to his defense.

And it's not just Maddie who does it either. Because Buck knows Maddie deflects. He's seen her do it with his own two eyes (I just don't think he realized how much she deflects from him because again he thought they were on the same page). "C'mon you don't have to pretend with me. I know things aren't okay with, Doug." So Buck jumps in between Maddie and anyone who is a "danger" to her.

He does it with Margaret: "She's going to nursing school. You should congratulate her."

He does it with Doug: "Standing in between you and anyone who thinks they can hurt you is exactly where I want to be standing."

He does it with Gloria: "Want me to talk to her?"

And he does it again in the big build up at the infamous dinner scene with his parents. Buck has seen Maddie just take it, so he puts himself in the middle. "It was a compliment, Evan!"/"Oh, was it?"

"A united front."

"You and me in the world."

"Us vs them. That's what we always said."

I agree that I don't think it was Maddie's place to tell Buck's parents about his therapy (though, I know why she did it). But Buck is such a firm believer in the "People make mistakes. Doesn't mean you give up on them." and that came from Maddie and grew from his experience with Bobby, Hen, Chimney, Eddie, and Athena.

Buck and Maddie are never going to give up on each other. If they had, Maddie wouldn't have given him an escape. Buck would've stopped trying to contact her. Buck and Maddie show such a capacity of love and forgiveness towards one another it's maddening because they so easily could've not.

It's not Buck tolerating when Maddie "hurts" or "upsets" him. It's Buck loving Maddie so completely that he loves her in spite of her flaws. The same way she has loved him in spite of his failures.

I think that's really the saddest part about the people who don't quite understand the Buckley siblings relationship. It's people who don't get or haven't gotten to experience the profound love that comes from being forgiven for something. Forgiven completely and not just stated. I think to be forgiven, really forgiven, is maybe one of the greatest gifts a person can give you. Because to be forgiven is to be seen. It's be seen for all your faults and still accepted. Whether a person deserves forgiveness or not is really just a moot point if you think about it. Because to make the choice to forgive someone is a liberation of yourself by saying "I am not going to hold this baggage for you anymore." It's all you can control at the end of the day. How people respond when you say that is when you really get to see the true value you hold to a person. Like my sibling and I grew up hating each other. HATING each other. It wasn't until we were older that we started to connect. But I have never once, nor have they, questioned whether or not we would go to the mat swinging for each other. And yeah we have a lot of baggage we're still holding onto but one by one we're letting things go and we are still around for one another.

That's why I think it's fascinating Buck's capability for forgiveness and it stems from Maddie because Margaret and Philip I don't think have ever forgiven Buck. They may not have blamed him but they never forgave him either.

François Duc De La Rochefoucauld has a really amazing quote about forgiveness.

"One forgives to the degree that one loves."

Buck's capacity to love and forgive is because Maddie loved him so completely. She saw him as a person. She treated him as a person. She forgave him for being a person and she loved him for being a person.

They survive major childhood trauma together. It has created this codependency that is shifting for the better because Buck and Maddie are getting better. They're surrounded by people who love them the way Margaret and Philip should have loved them. They are surrounded by people who validate them the way Margaret and Philip should have validated them. They are surrounded by people who see them for who they are the way Margaret and Philip should've seen them.

"Cause it's hard to feel betrayed by someone you didn't really think you could count on anyway... and easy to lash out one the person that you know is always gonna forgive you."

So that's my top reason why they're elite. Buck and Maddie forgive one another the same way they love one another. Completely and entirely with their whole hearts.

I am writing this post from my home, which the law claims I own, but which has been from time immemorial the land of the Tohono Oʼodham Nation and Pascua Yaqui peoples before it was appropriated by the Spanish Crown, passed to the Empire of Mexico, and finally sold to the United States. 

It’s not easy for me to work through my feelings and fears about the state of my country. I’m much better at perceiving the emotions of others than talking about my own thoughts and feelings. 

But I am feeling deeply frightened. Some five years ago when he began his campaign, I was immediately struck by the implications of a president with no experience, no diplomatic skills, poor education, a narcissist, and the recipient of an enormous amount of privilege--white and economic. 

My worst fears then have been exceeded by what is happening now. 

his foment of racism, white supremacy, and nationalist rhetoric has created a USA I struggle to recognize. My Boomer Generation mother raised me with ideals centered around racial and gender equality, feminism, labor union-organizing, and the belief that the government existed to serve the people, not the rich. 

However, I was raised in a bubble of whiteness. My public school education will show you some of the roots of our current crisis. In 9th Grade American History class, my teacher presented us with a 100% whitewashed and white-supremacist version of the story of our nation. He spent a HUGE amount of time  indoctrinating us into a version of history where the Civil War was not about slavery--he repeatedly said that in front of the class like some kind of refrain--but was about states rights. That tells you so much about the false version of history so many white people still believe.

It’s a narrative supported by so many parts of American culture, like the movie Gone With the Wind which so many whites take as historically accurate when it is really a reflection of 20th century revisionist history and the rise of ‘memorializing’ enslavers through things like the Daughters of the Confederacy, the plantation as a place where enslaved people were happy, etc. 

Let’s be honest. The United States of America is a nation founded on a principle it has never completely followed: Liberty and Justice for all. In each generation, we get better at it. We expand the circle of who is has certain privileges and who is disenfranchised. But we have never actually attained that principle. Why? Because although we are founded on that beautiful principle, our wealth and power as a nation was built on stolen land, on the backs of enslaved people who were kidnapped, trafficked, and subjected to so many forms of torture and abuse it boggles the mind. And most horrifical, forced into a system of generational enslavement based on the false and evil theory of white supremacy. 

Dr. Joy DeGruy, the author of Post Traumatic Slave Syndrome, narrates how the traumas and social realities of slavery are extended in each generation and how they impact People of Color today. (This is a grossly oversimplified statement, but hopefully it summarizes the principle of Dr. DeGruy’s work.) 

The traumas of slavery impact white people too. As the ancestors of people who committed such atrocities (whether or not our direct ancestors were enslavers or not), and as the recipients of a system that values whiteness and devalues People of Color, we have always tried to escape from the cognitive dissonance of thinking of ourselves as good, moral [and often, Christian] people while participating in and perpetuating, evil. Or, post-Civil War, of continuing the systems of oppression--the Jim Crow laws, end of Reconstruction which was a white abandonment of People of Color in the south, the KKK, voter suppression, the ‘war on drugs’ from which whites were exempt, and so many others. 

Every white person in the USA, from the poorest to Elon Musk, is a recipient of white privilege. 

I saw so many white supremacist symbols tattooed onto those domestic terrorists. On their clothes, hats, flags. But it’s also subtle. It’s the far more evil reality behind the flags that bear his name and “Don’t Tread On Me.” These symbols were visible on many members of this almost overwhelmingly white mob. If you say this isn’t about race, you are just wrong. 

Statistically, if you add the collective memberships of white supremacist organizations, there are three Neo-nazis in the USA for every Jewish person. That makes me sick every time I think about it.

White America suffers from Post Traumatic Enslaver Syndrome. It’s a mental illness characterized by the belief in white supremacy, eugenics, inherited practices of violence toward People of Color, inherited cognitive dissonance between self-image and reality, inherited practices of segregation, narcissism, and supporting systems of oppression under the guise of reasonable language and law and order rhetoric. 

We live in a nation where police can kill People of Color on the streets in public view, where Breonna Taylor can be executed in her own home for no reason at all, where peaceful Black Lives Matter protesters are arrested in their thousands, tear gassed, shot with rubber bullets, and beaten. And, where a mob of white people can storm the Capitol and be escorted out after they destroy it. 

The domestic terrorists say they are patriots and stand for freedom. They don’t even know what that means. But their rhetoric is the cloak passed down by generations to hide the racism of white people--the language of reason used to support oppression. 

I love my country and I am also angry with my country. As a white male, I disavow any solidarity with whiteness and white privilege. I stand as an ally to People of Color. I offer my small political power to stand against fascism and to stand for democracy. 

God, help us. 

Why are so focused on whether Ursa is an abuser or not when it is clear that the real abusers where Ozai and Azulon? And before we complain about her actions, we should take into account that Ursa was a victim of kidnapping who was forcibly bred/raped to produce super-powered heirs for the Royal Family. Considering that IRL women are traumatized by their rape babies, it is amazing, imo, that Ursa cares at all for Zuko or Azula. Especially when they take after their rapist/abuser like Azula does.

Okay first of all, it is incredibly dehumanizing to refer to someone as a "rape baby." I recognize Zuko and Azula are not real, but if you were talking about the children of a real rape victim, calling them "rape babies" would be incredibly inappropriate. Children conceived by rape are human beings, and they had nothing to do with what happened to their mothers. Don't perpetuate that trauma by putting it onto them with such a literal and nasty label.

Second of all, this is only true if you consider the canon of the comics. I think I have made it clear by now that I don't like the comics. Going by the show alone there is no evidence that Ursa did not consent, and you could argue it's a more interesting story if she had a little more agency in her marriage to Ozai. That's a matter of preference, but one I happen to agree with.

(A small sidebar- for the most part I don't consider the comics within my own personal consideration of what's "canon." I only discuss them so much because all these anons keep asking me about them, and I have to admit I'm getting a little tired of this fixation on the comics when I have made it very clear that I do not like them.)

Third of all, who exactly are you seeing claim that Ursa is abusive? The common take I see about her is that she was neglectful to Azula, not abusive. And the evidence of that is all over the actual canon of the show.

Ursa's trauma matters, certainly, but it does not absolve her of her responsibilities to her children. I think you can look upon Ursa compassionately and understand she was in a difficult situation with little understanding of how to handle her daughter, while also acknowledging that she ultimately failed at being a good mother to her. This is a fundamental dialectic- she did the best she could with the resources she had, but she could do better. And she needs to do better now if she wants to be part of Azula's life.

I think the fandom is well within their rights to discuss that. Ozai was the primary abuser, absolutely, but Ursa absolutely played a significant role. We don't have to canonize or demonize her- she was a good person trying her best, and an imperfect parent who messed up. She can be both.

HELL YEAH MORE HADES ONESHOTS

part 1 | part 2 | part 3 | part 4 | part 5 | part 6 | part 7 | part 8 | part 9 | part 10 | part 11

zagreus, the prince of the underworld, as you have come to know him for the duration of his stay thus far, was an interesting god. unlike many of the gods you have come to known in the duration of your short life, much like his mother, he was a polite, gentle, sweet individual who seemed to turn away from the scheming machinations that was present both in olympus and the underworld. who delighted in the simplicity of existence.

but there was something deeper, something that you had recognized. there was deep-rooted impatience within him that reminded you of a warrior unsure of how to lay his blade to rest, eyes darting at the shadowy darkness of the lands, as though waiting for an enemy to leap out and be slain.

the prince did not luxuriate in war, not like his kin (or at least a particular one), but an existence dedicated towards slaying the wretched masses to escape made it difficult to relax in a place where peace was finally found.

perhaps it was your fault in failing to recognize that, failing to realize that there were just certain things that one mustn’t do when it came to warriors fresh from war.

it is one day you notice the prince staring out in the distance, just outside the threshold of the cottage. so lost in his thoughts that it appeared as though he nary breathed, midnight-black hair rustling slightly in the playful breeze of the perpetual summer that lady persephone’s protections offered (or was it lady demeter simply avoiding her daughter’s lands to soil with winter?)

your steps are nigh silent, a lightness to your feet that is birthed from years of not wanting to be heard, and you reach out to grasp his bicep or to tap his shoulder to ask what he wanted for lunch that day. but the moment you make contact with furnace-hot skin, he stirs into action.

one moment, you’re standing there, and the next, pain is bursting behind your eyelids like stars, the prince’s forearm braced against your neck in bruising tightness as he pins you against the wall of the cottage. he snarls at you like a wolf, the feared blade at his hand, and in spite of everything, in spite of your instincts shrieking at you to claw your way out, you don’t.

instead, you remain still - a shaking trembling leaf that nary dared to breathe, eyes wide, a statue pinned underneath the uncaring hands of its sculptor.

when seconds pass, and battle-fury fades from red-green eyes, zagreus blinks out of his trauma-induced response and stumbles back, blade clattering with a dulled thud onto the grass. fire-flickering feet flash against the grass, horror evident in his expression, helpless, apologetic.

you could already feel the bruises forming at your neck and thanked the gods that he didn’t manage to snap your neck or your spine with how aggressively he slammed you against the cottage.

“mate, i’m... i’m---” he tries and fails to string together a multitude of apologies, too reminiscent of string unspooling ceaselessly, and tries to reach out. it is an action that makes you flinch, and in spite of yourself, you know that you are still trembling like a little leaf tossed in the throes of a hurricane.

he tries again to reach out, and you run.

you run, heels flashing like licks of flame on the ground, unhearing of the way zagreus called out for you to return. lord hermes would be pleased with how fleet-footed you were.

zagreus finds you, an hour later, near the top-most branch of an oak tree - its dryad long dead, on a thick branch that you found big enough for you to sit on whenever you felt troubled. he approaches the tree with the same openness of approaching a skittish, wounded animal. and it takes everything to swallow the fear that lumped at your throat.

he looks up, your form swallowed by the mass of foliage, interrupted by the briefest glimpse of legs swinging. a sigh comes from the prince, as he seats himself at the base of the tree. “----- i’m sorry.” he eventually says, picking at the grass and tossing it away from him. “i did not intend to hurt you. or to scare you.”

you did not deign to answer, long enough zagreus squirmed, but: “i know.” you sigh similarly, weary almost. “i accept your apology. i should have known better than to walk up behind you like that.”

the prince attempts to see you, but it was as though the tree blocked you from view; for no matter how he moved his head, the branches always obscured.

the silence reigned for torturous seconds, you, sitting on your favoured spot and trying to will away the anxiety-thump of your heart. and zagreus, sitting at the base of the tree, guilt swelling his god-heart to uncomfortable degrees. 

“this tree used to have a dryad, you know.” zagreus startles and makes the abortive movement to look up, but decides otherwise - contenting himself with picking up a leaf and rolling the stem betwixt his fingers so that it spun. “their name was speio.” you pull your fall-roughened knees to your chest. 

“was?”

you tried to tamp down the sadness, a grief that left you numb and unfeeling. “was,” came the agreement. “they died a few months back. an ancient sickness that left them weak and took them to the underworld.” there was a thought to ask if zagreus had seen them wandering the underworld as a shade before banishing it. he probably wouldn’t know them, the shades that walked about were in multitudes and most likely beneath his notice (a product of his upbringing). “they were my friend and whenever i felt too alone or sad, i would come here and speio would comfort me. even if the dryad is gone, i know that the tree still protects me, still comforts me in the way speio would if they were still here.”

zagreus considers the leaf in his hands, blade back at the cottage, sequestered safely in the room that they had prepared for him. “why are you telling me this? i mean, i’m honoured, but...” he trails off uncertainly. he doesn’t hear you answer for a bit, only realizes that you’re not in the tree any longer and standing before him.

“i just wanted to tell you that i...” you look away slightly, as though flustered, “--- still trust you. i’m not afraid of you.” reflexively, you hold out your hand for the prince to take.

and he does! much to your surprise.

but what baffles you is the... heaviness of the god prince. he laughs loudly at the way you dug your heels into the dirt, forehead shining with sweat, at the way you struggled. before he helped you pick him up. your hands lingered for a second before letting go. “for someone who i saw wrestle a boar once, you are surprisingly weak.”

it was a jest that makes you roll your eyes in camaraderie, “you gods are just made different,” you grumble, padding back towards the cottage. zagreus nudges you, hard enough that you stumble to the side (you found that centuries within the underground, deprived of warmth and touch, made him hunger for it as well - normally, gods would shy away at physical contact with mortals). you give him a dirty look and shove him back, mouth unmoving at his laughter, even if there was a telltale softness in your gaze.

“tell me: what do you want for lunch?”

zagreus smiles, delighted. “i thought you’d never ask.”

THE YEAR IS 2020 AND I WATCHED NEON GENESIS EVANGELION FOR THE FIRST TIME, PART 10

Episode 22.

We're getting an Asuka episode? Well this will be a delightful change of pace, I think, because I am incapable of learning.

The exact details of how wrong I was under the cut.

You know what all the dead mom vibes in this show needed? SUICIDE AND A CREEPY DOLL.

There are flashbacks to Asuka, somberfaced and small staring through a window at her hospitalized mother who is whispering endearment to a doll she calls Asuka. This condition has something to do with Asuka's mother being too consumed by her work to be a mother. This is also why Asuka's mother kills herself: poor work-mom balance. Does Asuka's father, who loudly fucks a doctor in a medical supply closet within earshot of young Asuka, carry any blame for this? Have a great big shrug!

There's a flashback to Asuka and fuckin' Kaji (I will never be free of him) having a very one sided conversation, lying on their backs and looking at the stars, talking about Asuka going to Japan with her EVA and meeting other pilots including A BOY. Asuka declares her lack of interest in boys her own age, even if they also pilot giant robots, and her interest not in men, but in Kaji. Her great interest in Kaji and her willingness to do anything he's up for as part if her bid for his attention and adulthood. Fuckin' Kaji slithers over the bar by turning down the 14-year-old's blatant sexual overture. This is the only boundary he sets and he does it in the laziest way when in a just universe his refusal to fuck a teenager would not need to be commended because no one WOULD. I'm glad he doesn't but I hate that I have to be glad, you know?

This jumble of flashbacks is to establish that Asuka is having a pretty shitty time! Her sync rates with her EVA are plummeting; Misato doesn't know what to do and Ritsuko doesn't care and also seems to be ready to fire this teenage girl for poor robot performance.

Asuka is acutely conscious of being 'beaten' by Shinji and Rei post Shinji's month-long sabbatical being absorbed by his EVA, which is pretty understandable because NERV does a poor job of hiding how ready to write her off they are.

My understanding of the flow of these episodes is becoming increasingly less coherent. At some point there's a shot of young Asuka standing in front of the grave for I guess her mother who had the surname? Middle name? I DON'T KNOW BUT IT SAYS ZEPPELIN ON THE GRAVESTONE OKAY.

There are some shots of the creepy doll having its head wrenched off and being held by its head.

Mainly, Asuka's /so angry/. The coping mechanism she learned in the wake of her childhood trauma was about the ineffectiveness of tears and so everything is redirected into anger. She's angry living with Misato and Shinji. She's angry when Misato asks her to answer the phone. She's angry because she knows Misato and Kaji were a thing (but she doesn't know that fuckin' Kaji is fuckin' dead and Misato doesn't share the information - maybe she can't). She's angry when Shinji answers the phone instead, without being asked. She's angry Shinji's polite.

The phone call is for her, from Germany, from her mother (stepmother, she reveals, after the fact), and a bright, chipper, incomprehensible one-sided German telephone conversation ensues. A flashback to destroying a toy from her 'new' mother.

Shinji watches this conversation he cannot understand (but does any teenage boy feel like he understands any conversation conducted by a teenage girl?) but expresses genuine, sweet longing for what appears to be a functional familial relationship. Certainly Asuka's conversation with her stepmother is probably longer than every word exchanged between Shinji and his father in the entirety of Shinji's life.

Shinji's genuine interest in Asuka's family life prompts a sincere and unguarded response from Asuka about how uncomfortable living with her father and stepmother was before she catches herself and is angry at Shinji for briefly seeing a real Asuka, and herself for being real.

She's angry at Japanese baths, she's angry at sharing bath water with Shinji and Misato, angry at washing her clothes in the same machine that washes their clothes, angry at using the same toilet they do, angry at breathing the same AIR they do. She's angry because she's on her period (and this is brought up by Misato as a possible reason she's having trouble with her EVA and immediately shot down by Ritsuko) and because Asuka's always angry it doesn't feel like clumsy 'girls be PMS-ing'. Maybe more significantly, she's angry AT her period. Angry about it happening, angry about it being something she can't control and that boys don't have to deal with, angry because it's a biological indicator of her ability to do something she has no desire to ever do ...

As an adult, living with grief and depression and my mother's death and my difficult relationship with my father, I feel great empathy for Shinji. But I remember /being/ Asuka. I remember being an angry teenage girl, angry at myself and my body and everyone around me. Asuka's got big Not Like Other Girls energy and for me, that goes hand in hand with the boiling adolescent anger, the desire to goad other teens into fights, because lashing out and physically hurting was more real and acceptable than inner turmoil that couldn't be kicked.

It feels like there's a lot packed into this episode, even though it's full of long, awkward moments like a prolonged, silent elevator ride with Asuka and Rei which culminates in Asuka slapping Rei for her serenity and certainty of her place in NERV.

Maybe it just feels like there's a lot because this glimpse into Asuka's inner life feels like such a direct look at the feelings of my own adolescence. Projection is powerful.

Asuka's EVA sync rates continue to fall and it's just casually dropped that more EVAs are being made, like, it sounds like a good dozen of a new EVAs in different countries and hey that sounds like a terrible idea after one recently went rogue and ate an angel and Shinji sort of. Asuka knows she's fucking up, she finds herself lashing out at her EVA and its weird green bug eyespots. It's a weapon, a doll, and a tool, and it doesn't need a heart to fulfill its purpose (which is how Asuka regards herself). It just needs to obey her (like how Rei obeys). There's this tangle of connection with Rei and Asuka and the EVA here. Asuka hates and envies Rei because Rei performs her duties unquestioningly, which is what Asuka wants from her EVA but also what she wants from herself in her operation of the EVA. But Rei is needed by NERV because of how she performs and Rei appears to perform as she does because she knows NERV needs her. There's a certainty and belonging Asuka longs for, much as Shinji longs for the family connection her projects onto Asuka's German telephone conversation

ANYWAY an angel ... attacks? I guess? But it's not there it's in orbit maybe and it's like someone made a toddler draw a bird in space made out of lightning. It's definitely a thing to throw giant robots at and is some kind of bad time but they don't want to send out Asuka. And they don't want to send out Shinji and it's not clear why, if it's because of the absorption month or the berserk eating of the last angel or Gendo deciding he values his son's life (HA HA HA no it's definitely not the last one don't worry I'm not that confused). So it'll have to be Rei and they'll have Asuka provide backup but holy shit Asuka is not down for that and she decides to try and take out the angel in space herself, launching her EVA without permission and getting ready to do a shooting with her giant EVA gun, but she misses.

And then ... okay ... so ... then the angel in space does some kind of Care Bare Sunbeam Stare down from space onto the EVA while Handel's Messiah plays. But that's not good, that's bad. I know, heavenly music and glowing golden light. But it's bad. It's a psychological attack. The angel is trying to understand humanity with its beam attack which I think is what happened to Shinji with the pancake angel but while Shinji got a weird near death experience and a message of love from his mother, Asuka is screaming, shooting her giant EVA gun until empty.

I'm interested in the contrasting ways Asuka and Shinji's EVAs move when berserking. Shinji's was like a wild animal, a cryptid, unsettling fluid and violent and destroying everything around it in displays of brutal violence and blood. Asuka's ... looks like a headache. Everything is bent and angled inwards, clutching and drawing in and once the gun is out of ammo, it looks like it's hurting itself or trying to fold in and make a smaller target for something outside.

The angel's Hallelujah chorus beam is an awful thing of preventing suppression of bad memories? Asuka remembers all the crying she did as a child and her mother trying to kill her and also begging her mother to let her die with her so they would still be mother and daughter. It's a lot (and also there's lots of creepy doll stuff which you know I'm always ready to be particularly upset by) and Asuka's inner Asuka is, if possible, even harsher to her than Shinji's inner Shinji, because Asuka's self-loathing is channeled into anger and it's easy to be angry at yourself, you know? It's ugly stuff, this perpetual motion machine of anger as protection of self resulting in anger because no one knows the real you but then you're angry because you can't be weak and show your true self ... If your only coping mechanism is anger then everything is anger and everything becomes anger and feeds anger and there's no room for anything else. Anger's big and can grow forever in a bad way and ... Asuka's not taking out the angel in space, obviously.

So Rei is sent to save the day (which will make Asuka angry) but even Rei can't hit the angel in space. So there's only one thing to do, apparently, even though doing it may cause the Third Impact which is what all this angel fight has been for the purpose of avoiding maybe? IT'S TIME TO SEND REI INTO THE ORANGE TANG OCEAN SUBBASEMENT WHERE THERE IS A NERV WARSHIP AND THE GIANT GLOWING RED CROSS WITH THE WHITE MANY EYED DANGLY ENDED BODY OF ADAM TREVOR TO GET THE SPEAR OF LONGINUS. Longinus is removed from Adam Trevor, like you do, and Longinus was the only thing keeping Adam Trevor ... dead? Inert? I don't know but the dangly bottom end bits get all pulsing and roiling and Akira and maybe become legs no time to dwell on this Rei's back to the surface. Rei throws Longinus at the angel in space and that does the trick I guess but she throws it so hard that the spear lands on the moon. I guess they don't have the spear of Longinus anymore and while I don't know why/if they needed it, they definitely seem to have been using it.

There's no more Handel and that's good but Longinus seems like something they maybe wanted to put back in the chest of the upsetting ever growing white figure on the cross in the tang ocean but I guess that's a problem for next week.

Asuka doesn't get absorbed into her EVA for any length of time and post-battle, Shinji tells her hunched form he's glad she's okay. Asuka hates him and would rather be dead than to live having been rescued by Rei.

I'm amazed Asuka had an episode to herself (cultural consciousness of this show is so strange, I'd presumed such importance from her, but she hasn't been in that much, really, and then often as comic relief) and her rage was given depth. This concludes my report on Episode 22 of Neon Genesis Evangelion.

hello my lovely fairies and gentle gems! i’m cece, and i’m very excited to bring to you im sooah (irene), child of hecate. the best way to describe her is literally “she’s beauty, she’s grace, she might actually punch you in the face.” buckle up, i use this quote a lot to describe her. sooah might seem intimidating at first, but i promise you, she’s harmless unless you provoke her.

 i’m going to link her bio / profile / plots page, but if reading all of this is too much work (i feel that, so no offense taken if y’all just skim through it), i’m going to leave a few details under the cut. 

anyways, i’m excited to plot with all of you. click the heart and i’ll drop by in your ims.   

▸▸▸  had a rough childhood and did not get along with her dad because he was always gone, and looking at her reminded him too much of her mom. he had to give up his dream of being a surgeon to take care of sooah so while he did love his daughter, he also was quite bitter.

 ▸▸▸  was a pretty angry child (had major anger management issues) and would often climb onto roof of the apartment to stare at the stars. that’s how she found her love for the stars. 

 ▸▸▸  for what it’s worth, for the most part, sooah’s worked through her issues with her dad. she’s doing much better now but she does have bouts / periods where the traumas of her past come back. 

 ▸▸▸ notable abilities are mystiokinesis and umbrakinesis 

 ▸▸▸  doesn’t really believe that she’ll ever love someone romantically or be loved romantically, but it’s whatever for her. does partake in the occasion one night stand / did have fwbs though. 

 ▸▸▸  she’s not particularly strong, but she’s graceful and uses her petite stature to her advantage in combat. relatively good fighter though her strengths lie in her abilities to cast magic. lowkey thinks that she could be a sorceress like circe or medea.

 ▸▸▸  she’s confident and can come off as snobby but she really is not arrogant. acknowledges that she is pretty but there really is much more than just her face -- works hard to prove that to people.

 ▸▸▸  does like to be by herself and dislikes loud noises, so you can find her in quiet spots on campus by herself. that or the hecate cabin. can be hyperactive with her siblings and close friends though. 

 ▸▸▸  perpetually tired and sleepy. but isn’t that just the life of a graduate student? 

 ▸▸▸ terrified of ghosts. kind of ironic considering she has necromancy abilities and that’s kind of how her dad got the attention of he mother, but she’s terrified of ghosts. 

hii! may i just ask you why/how the mom steve meme is sexist?

thank you for asking so politely!! i’m happy to talk about it (and i think it ought to be discussed).

okay, so let’s talk about mom steve.

steve is a teenage boy. the foundations of his character were set as the stereotypical 80s high school douche, a kind of foil to jonathan, whom nancy was always ultimately going to choose over steve - regardless of how steve’s character developed later on. then the duffers met joe keery, and decided to take his character in a different direction. he starts the series as your high school bully, though the take on the trope is more nuanced than it was originally, but by the end of season 1 he’s starting to redeem himself.

this is all good. it’s more interesting, actually, than the more typical archetype fulfilled by billy in season 2. the duffers are all about nuance.

so let’s go to joyce in season 1. joyce embodies another archetype - the stricken, frantic, hysterical mother. the narrative could easily dismiss her, but instead a large proportion of the series is from her perspective: we see her use of the christmas lights not as a delusion but as a rational, logical experiment. we as the audience are desperate for the others to believe her. so here, too, there is another subversion of a trope - and when her beliefs are validated by hopper, literally part of the institutions that dismiss her (he is ex-army, the police chief, a man), she is still a fundamental part of uncovering the mystery and finding her son. he doesn’t take over. without her, they never would have succeeded.

all this she does in aid of her child. she gets called crazy, delusional, a mess even by her own son, jonathan - but she doesn’t give up.

to summarise so far - in season 1, both steve and joyce subvert tropes. joyce overcomes institutional sexism by her strength and belief as a mother.

onto season 2. the crisis - the monster du jour - isn’t so glaring this time, but creeps up on the narrative. will is present and for a while joyce can be more relaxed. she has a boyfriend now - bob - and they seem happy together. we learn than she and hopper went to high school together. we discover she - and the other characters - are still heavily traumatised by the events of season 1. nancy is too, and she’s struggling in her relationship with steve. but instead of framing their breakup around her trauma, around how they simply don’t work together anymore because they’ve both grown to be different people, the show seems to favour steve and make it less than amicable. we are made to feel sorry for steve, poor, dumped steve, instead of placing the two on equal ground.

@jancys-blue-bayou made a good post about this a while back, when the teaser for s3 came out. in it they discuss steve in season 2; ‘they began […] by making him “a loser” through his relationship with nancy ending in a way that humiliated his frail male ego and then king steve losing his crown to billy, so he’s not popular in high school now. just like jonathan’s never been.’ essentially they begin to shape steve into what jonathan used to be - a loner, an outcast, someone the audience should sympathise with. the kind of character stranger things has always been about.

meanwhile the whole mess with will begins, and joyce has no other focus once again - her relationship with bob falls by the wayside, unless he becomes relevant to will again (calling him up about the tape, inviting him in to help them solve the map). within the narrative this is perfectly understandable - her son is going through something horrible, again, of course he’s all she cares about - but we lose any sense of joyce the person, again. she’s just joyce the mom. contrast this with hopper, who is treated very differently by the narrative. he has multiple plotlines, emotional beats. as @nancykali puts it, ‘the duffers didn’t want to deal with their only main adult female character having a storyline outside of will and hopper. oh but wait - hopper could get his storylines as joyce’s love interest, a support for will, and an adoptive parent to el though, couldn’t he? that’s unbalanced and sexist storytelling.’

so, to recap - while joyce is reduced down to just the Mom (which was fine in s1, because of the urgency of the situation and the fact that this was a new show, none of the characters had been developed much yet, but starts to become alarming in s2) which by default makes her less relatable, less of a figure for the audience to connect with, steve is deliberately cast as a multi-faceted, sympathetic character. joyce’s ‘story is no less than hopper’s but it’s treated as lesser by the canon because she’s a woman and her role is Mother First, Human Second. but if a man decides to be a father he deserves to be lauded, where for a mother to adopt a little girl, that’s too predictable to some people.’ this last bit is in reference to hopper, but it works for steve too. steve giving attention to the kids and acting protective over them for what amounts to one afternoon is celebrated far beyond anything joyce has done, because it’s breaking type. and sure, that can be a good thing. when the series first came out i really enjoyed babysitter steve.

but that’s all he is. a babysitter. joyce is a real mom, and yet because she’s a woman, that’s her job description. but because steve is a teenage boy, who used to be something of a bully, he gets praise far beyond what he might deserve.

being a mother is what drives joyce’s narrative arc - and that’s wrong, and misogynistic, because she deserves to be fleshed out and given other plotlines too - and her character would literally have nothing without it. it feels like a slap in the face, then, for it to be steve who is labelled ‘best mom’ - steve, who has multiple facets to his character, steve who is a teenage boy, steve who is affluent and male and up until recently embodied the trope of 80s highschool bully. joyce is quite literally a single mom and we are shown that she often struggles to make ends meet. she’s had nervous breakdowns in the past, she works weekends and nights and holidays, she relies on jonathan almost as a co-parent to will. she’s a flawed mother, but she does her goddamn best because her life is hard - and despite all this she finds time to actively know and engage with her sons’ interests, to play with them, to have jokes with them. this is being a good mom.

‘mom steve’ is perpetuated by fandom, but it is rooted in the show. take the first s3 teaser: ‘they have him work a menial job that has fans of the mom meme write stuff like “steve got a minimum wage job to take care of his five kids”’. both joyce and jonathan work/have worked menial jobs to support their family, possibly both at minimum wage - while steve is very notably and explicitly affluent. in fact if any character in the show who is not a mom deserves to be called one, it’s jonathan, who is in all but name a co-parent to will. i think @jancys-blue-bayou and @nervousalligator have written on this in the past.

however, applying the term ‘mom’ to these male characters at all is sexist by itself. it promotes the idea that only women can be caregivers - that parenting is only the duty of the mother, and is nothing to do with men. this is highly misogynistic, links back to age-old gender roles that it’s high time were erased, and yet the meme perpetuates them. steve is male. if anything, he should be called ‘dad steve’ - but people won’t run with that, because it’s all a joke. because motherhood is a joke. joyce is defined by being a mother and yet she gets no recognition for it, while steve is not a mother, has multiple plotlines and facets beyond that meme, and yet is lauded as the best mom of all.

it’s actually a manner of woobifying him. he’s not a perfect character, not of them are, yet this ‘mom’ caricature somehow strives to paint him as such. it’s the same with hopper, in his parenting of el - his obvious flaws are dismissed across the fandom because of sweet father-daughter moments. i love hopper as a character, and i can appreciate steve, but often people simply don’t understand them. as @paris-geller-was-straightwashed puts it, ‘y’all will soften the males of this show all the way down until they literally don’t have any sharp edges anymore.’ the male characters become perfect, can do no wrong, while the women are criticised for their every mistake (see the treatment of nancy post s2).

it’s a cycle. the show began it, when they tried to promote steve the best way they knew how - by shaping him into a prototype of jonathan, except without any flaws and much, much richer - and the fandom picked it up and ran with it. this led to fanservice, with the scoops ahoy teaser and the stranger things twitter (don’t think i’ve forgiven the mothers’ day tweet). with any luck the fandom will wise up a little or the creators will stop pandering to them, but we’ll have to see the outcome of s3. regardless, it’s time to stop calling steve a mom. if anything, he’s a big brother to dustin - yet another role that was somewhat snatched from jonathan (see the scene at the end of s1 when jonathan comes down to mike’s basement at the end of the d&d game - he’s a big brother figure to all the boys). people call steve a mom because he gave dustin advice - horrible, sexist advice (‘treat ‘em like you don’t care’) - and put a tea towel on his shoulder. that’s it.

so maybe appreciate steve as his own character, a babysitter at most, because you’re doing him a disservice by woobifying him and calling him a ‘mom’. appreciate joyce, who is an actual mom, and maybe start lobbying the duffers for more development for their female characters rather than for more sexist memes.

TLDR; joyce is defined by being a mother and yet she gets no recognition for it, while steve is not a mother, has multiple plotlines and facets beyond that meme, and yet is lauded as the best mom of all.

Part 3: Irreversible Choices

I figured if I laid around here long enough Joni would come sniffing around for something, so I just decided to wait. Aiden was useless, Marcus was on a "celibacy break", and anyone else that has smack wasn't worth the effort. Sleepy eyed she dragged her feet in announced, "Who's the most popular couple of the day? JONI IS. I totally walked in on Harry watching me and Noah" For whatever reason her saying that bothered me. "He probably was pretending to be me again" I joked Without really thinking of what I had just said she dotingly (well mockingly really) snapped back, "What you would watch me and Noah cuddling, awww are you lonely Gray" My lip twitched and I realized I had no comeback. Whatever, it's just Joni. I shook my head and realized I had taken my boxers off long before I got in my room. I pulled the blanket up. "Awww Gray are you getting shy? Where is the longest dick list? did it say yours shrunk?" "It's still bigger than Noahs" I have no idea why I just said that. I knew I was being petty, I knew it was jealousy. Fuck I knew i didn't like Joni like that....well not in any real way, but I felt jealous and mad. "Okkkaaaay that's super relevant, i'll have to tell Noah this later..." She laughed that gentle but ever so callous laugh she possessed. "Well if you talk shit to him about me then what do you tell me?" "Come on Gray, you know i don't keep you around to tell you things." That one stung even deeper. Something in me took over, flashes of the whole day, fuck my whole life played before me....sadly most of the memories now had to do with girls or the lack of. As if. There had never been a lack of woman in my life, but that's just it. I was fucking jealous even though she didn't seem to try in her relationship at least people gave a fuck to notice it. I don't know if i asked for her or needed the validation of being a confidante, but all the same.. "Well maybe you should talk to me. Maybe you should treat me real not just like your play thing to pick and up and put down faster than your empty drink"

The timing  was impeccable as she had just slamed the last inch of her drink. "You're corny Gray....and not even in a cute way like Noah" That guy again. What was so good about him really? He can hardly rub two words together to make a sentence. He was skinny as a board. She probably just liked dicking him around. I decided to test her. "Speaking of using up how's he doing? Waiting at the door for his master to come?" "You sound stupid Gray, and not in a CUTE way like Noah." "Really Joni you wanna play that game? The second someone says what you don't like you just start making fun of them." I raised my voice in a mocking way "Hey i'm jooooni what's going on guys, oh my god you guys are all soooo coooll love you, wait i have to go sneak away to talk shit about you all to my REAL friends Jesse and dear, sweet, perfect Noah" I wasn't putting up with this shit from her. If she wants to be my friend she can, but not as a doormat anymore. "Really Gray you wanna go there. You wanna be my buddy buddy best friend you want me to" she took the effort to even make her fingers into air quotes, "talk to you Gray" I wasn't in the mood for anymore jokes. I looked her dead in the eye, "Yes Joni, I would. I wanna know why you're so defensive. I wanna know why you won't talk to anyone. I want to actually know you." "Doubt it" "Seriously..." I softened up and put my hand on hers. "Please Joni..." "You won't get it." "try me" "I need a hit first if you want me to cry about my past or whatever you're asking..." "I know you're fucking past Joni, everyone here knows the facts of everyone. What I don't know is why you're this way now, why you joke about everything, just.....why" She for a moment had her hands completely free and slammed them onto the table. "Why Gray....you wanna know why? Okay fine, my life was...."

I looked at her small hands on the table. She had delicate, long fingers, short fingernails, but they were clean. She was a pretty girl despite the perpetual tired look in her eyes. "...every day I had to make decisions to live or to die, and with Jesse around dying wasn't an answer just a fantasy. I did not hold life. until I had her. Things changed then. I changed..." Although she was skinny, she still had nice breasts, ones I could always see the shape of through her braless tanktop. Her skin was soft, I wondered how the rest of it felt. "...you can blame it on this or that, but i know what happened, i lived it an dfelt it so i know for fact when i feel this way now that it's a truth.." She didn't wear any makeup on her lips, but didn't need to. They were plump and pink and smooth. As she talked the corners curled in this charming way, I couldn't help but imagine putting my fingers on them...oh my god... holy shit I'm an asshole. She's fucking talking right now. I asked her to talk and i'm here just thinking of her body. I gotta tune in.

"-these things that happened, I don't feel special or tramatized. I'm not a prude, i'm not a victim, all that I know is that I made a mistake and I won't let that happen again." I felt confused and fished in my head for a suitable empathetic answer. I hope i don't ask something she already said. "Mistake like....?" She shook her head slightly in an offended way as to say "no shit" "I murdered my daughter Gray and that's the why or whatever you're looking for" She knew I knew that. I needed to dig deeper. She never talked about any of this with me in any serious way. I fished for something "Is it sorta like Aiden's guilt...about Jenn, killing something innocent and the guilt of that?" Her eyes turned into slits and then blank. "Really? You're going to compare me to him? He didn't learn anything. He never fixed anything. And as far as his morals? Pfft.." She pulled a cigarette out of a blue box and grazed around for a lighter. She took a deep sip of a water bottle of whatever and seemed to have a new vigor. "I'm actually insulted that you would even think that for a second....like Aiden....jesus christ....." "Well i don't know you don't tell me shit so i'm just trying to make some sense of it. I mean i've killed people, but not like someone...." "Someone you knew? Someone you looooooved? I killed my child. I was her mother. End of story. Can you tell me that's okay" A deeply sad look came over my face. I wondered maybe if she was drunk, but knew better that this was actually Joni being honest. She was opening up, trusting me. I know I can help her. "It wasn't your fault" A silence shook the room. Now her eyes widened with rage. "what did you say to me?" she nearly whispered. Now I was confused. I knew her guilt was beyond anything i'd ever felt, but this was an anger i'd never seen before. I thought she would have started joking a while ago. I elaborated. "I said it wasn't your fault. You were just trying to.... protect her. You were hurt too, you didn't mean to I mean..." "Oh boo hoo so sad, Joni is sad so she's gonna take her fucking problems out on  the person that NEVER did anything wrong. And even if she did do something wrong, I would have loved her and accepted her " she started choking up a little, the guilt of knowing this chance wouldn't come back. I was her MOTHER, Gray. What doesn't make sense to you?" I'd seen Joni mad, but usually she just went to laizzes sarcasm or changed topics. I'd cut this vein length wise. I thought of anyway to fix things for her. "I mean.....couldn't they bring her back? They've brought lots of people" "Fuck you still don't get it do you? Why do you think I get along better with Noah? Not Aiden or Gippal or  any other creep that killed people and claimed they didn't mean it. I have the guts to say that I meant to kill her. I wanted her dead and I want her to stay dead. I am a bad person. I did a bad thing. I made that decision when I was under the impression she would NEVER have a life again. And it's done. Having her back won't change the choice I made." She took a breath of air filtered through a cigarette and continued on... "Oh and your deep arch rival Noah whom you're so very curious why I talk to him and not YOU is as simple as he was a bad person too. And he's not now. And i'm not now and that's all we've got. Changing doesn't fix the past. Let us live 1000, a million years, and nothing will change that. But i'll let you know it's actual real change. Not just regrets manifesting into woulda couldas. There is no more room to make the same mistakes." I figured anything I said now wouldn't help so I just waited and watched. "So when I don't wanna screw someone Gray, it's not my 'trauma' it's because i will never, i mean never again risk becoming pregnant and being a mother and then killing my baby. I do not deserve a chance, I blew it. That's that. " She was deeply out of breath. Her hand shook as she looked for another cigarette. I felt bad what wasn't sure exactly about what. I guess I got her, but couldn't she see it wasn't her fault? She wasn't right, but  I knew better that she'd completly lose her shit if I said that. She already was cooking two shots up for us and the thought of it made me sad. I didn't want to run from this conversation, but I didn't feel right to push her to talk more either. In dead silence we each did ours and sat on the edge of my bed staring at the floor. As her head started to droop and her cigarette ash lengthened, a horribly lonely feeling washed over me. She was right I couldn't understand. I didn't believe it and I felt even more guilty when I got jealous of that fact. I knew it was wrong when I thought of Joni's life, or hell even Noah's for that reason, but in some way I  was jealous of the somehow shared pasts they had. I wanted someone to understand in that same deep way, of course it didn't take the horrors of the past to bring understanding, but who could be that person to me? What understanding did I need? I had to try something. I slipped on some clothes and slipped out of the room unneccesarily quietly. I climbled down the stairs to a row of bedrooms. Number 248 was a room I had never even considered visiting on my own. I let out a sigh and knocked three loud bangs. Despite the room being pitch dark, I knew someone was there and they definitly weren't sleeping. "The door slid open just a crack and a singular, scarily blue eye peeked out. "hello" he whispered almost like a question. "Uh hey Christian" We both paused. "Are you looking for someone, perhaps Aiden. He resides in his cooridore now. He told me to leave him alone until 3:14 am on the dot. Alas here I wait." "Uhm....no I was uhm....curious if..." He slowly pulled the door open a few more inches and I slid my foot in it casually and let myself in. "can i come in?" I said after the fact He always had a look of fear, but this time it was lined with excitement too. "Please yes do come in" He stepped backwards (as if he had a choice) three pacse and started shifting his eyes back and forth, desperatly looking for something in the immaculate....or rather bare room. Pushed against the wall was a pallet bed, the concrete slabs you see in jail cells. it had a thin futon, a white sheet, and a hospital thin pillow. A simple desk painted black was on the opposite side. A single lamp and a jar with nothing in it sat on his table. The weirdness of this dude resonated louder within his domain, which I didn't think was possible. Where did he put his clothes? or books? or fuck anything. I'd seen caskets I'd rather sleep in. I pulled the chair out by the desk and rotated it backwards and slid into it. He sat opposite with his knees tight and both gloved hands on them evenly. "So uhh, this is your room" He kept staring at me without blinking and nodded slowly. I realized until now I had never had a conversation with the guy. "So uhh....I was wondering if you could maybe show me something" He kept staring. "I was thinking maybe you could show me some of  memories." He looked quite interested now. The eagerness made him shift in his seat. "You wish to explore the details of anothers mind, a curious feat, but one that may prove to change the out course of a singular destiny." "Yeaaaah, idk I just kinda wanted to have some maybe, you know understanding?" "Curious indeed. Wandering another's path to try and learn of the intimacy of companionship. Fascinating indeed so. What do you wish to see?" "I guess some of Joni's life. I don't know the important parts? Random parts? You're the memory mind guy right?"

"I do not pick and choose what I see. Taking on another's mind is larger than one could describe. I get every sensation, a lifetime in the graze of a finger tip. May I first ask you this, do you know your whole mind? Would you be able to account for  and after you live the entirety of their life in real time, with real pain, real joy, real sensation, and then you return back into Christian's...I mean your mind. Can you comprehend?" "I guess if that's what it takes" "You will not be Joni when you return. You will be Gray still .You will know all though. You will have lived it. You will feel it. The entirety of her life you will live through in a second and then you will be here, within my dormitory, the same. Do you understand" I knew the dude made everything sound ominous, but this especially put me on edge. I figured I was here and I wanted to mean what I said. She claimed she stuck with her thoughts, the least I could do is at least stick to this choice I  made. "Let's do it then" He began slowly slipping off his right glove. He looked like a child walking into Disneyland. The elated look on his face made things even eerier. "Now you will truly understand" he prophesized What the fuck did I just agree to?

i understand the trauma that impacts her. and to a degree, i understand how that shaped her actions to me and made her feel compelled to traumatize me.

but she taught me something new too. something she hadn't seen in her own trauma. she taught me how humans can turn their own hurt into hurt on others. and the lesson i learned above all else from this was never to take my pain out on others. that no matter how much i'm suffering, to always keep the release valve pointed away from others. and when there's nowhere you can harmlessly vent to, to fucking smother all the pain with the weight of your internal organs until you can find somewhere safe to release it.

this is my first and foremost most basic instinct since i was a child. and if i have a compulsive need to be good and above rebuke that sometimes compels me to tear out my internal organs from it, so be it. i'm damn proud that i don't perpetuate my pain onto others. that the trauma i inherited from my mother's line will fucking end with me. the daughter who will kill what you wrought.

Lilith's child indeed.