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mssirey · 3 years

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Some agentreign, with a tattoo artist Alex!

Alex knew the roughly sketched symbol, of course. How could she not recognize the insignia of the character her sister played on her show—the campy series with its sometimes shallow commentary or ham-fisted allegories of the world, but that left enough room for interpretation that lent to a beloved view of its main cast.

When Alex glanced up at the woman who had booked her afternoon slot, there seemed nothing outwardly fan-ish about her—her aesthetic one of corporate power, her blazer a sharp cut from a designer Alex couldn’t be bothered to know the name of, her palette choices bold, but smart—not someone she would have read as having much time for fun. But then, Kara was much the same, and she knew better about how deeply her sister loved being a part of a show about superheroes.

“My daughter really loves the show,” the woman offered with a little wave of her hand at the drawing, a jittery air around her, as if she anticipated the judgment she might face, “and Supergirl is her favorite character, of course!” She laughed, a short puff exhaled as her shoulders sagged and her hand returned to ring together with her other. “She said I was her Supergirl the other day, and if you knew how much she loves the character—“

Alex stopped her then, a gentle smile touching her lips. “That is a beautiful base for a tattoo,” she assured. She stepped forward, reached out without thinking, hand covering the nervous twist of fingers, warm against her palm. That close, she realized how tall the woman was—especially as her shoulders pulled back and she straightened up just a little.

Alex almost withdrew her hand as the woman’s teeth clacked sharply together. She watched lashes flutter over warm chocolate eyes as they dropped to where their hands touched, lingering while their breath was held as one.

“Wow— ” one hand pulled free of hers, Alex’s stomach ready to turn, only for fingers to run so gingerly over her own skin—from wrist up her forearm—drawing her gaze down to the full sleeve of ink that she had poured her own heart into, disappearing beneath the once-tidy cuff of her shirt, since stained with the efforts of the day. “Your tattoos are… so…” she had heard all manner of words to describe the art she wore—everything from ‘intense’ to ‘troubling’—rarely a favorable opinion coming from someone who wasn’t an enthusiast, “catching.”

Alex swallowed as those fingers traced a line of color, meant to accentuate the form of the figures at the center of the design—both a representation of herself, stood back to back; one stripped down to blood and bone; the other painted in an unnatural light, too ‘perfect’, meeting all the expectations placed on her, shackles on her wrists and chains weighing down her shoulders.

“I designed it myself,” she said the first thing to come to mind, her eyes almost rolling at her own lack of wit.

“I really like it,” the woman commented before seeming to realize how long she had been touching Alex, her hand jerking upward, a marvelous warmth reaching her cheeks.

They parted, a full pace put between them by the time Alex found the breath to offer her thanks.

“So, um, did you just want the insignia?” Alex held up the sketch to bring them back to business.

The woman faltered, a plea writing itself into her expression. “Well, um, so, you might be able to tell, but I’m not much of an artist,” she exhaled, a laugh bubbling up after, plucking at the chords of Alex’s heart. “I know I want to use the symbol, but I… I don’t know what else to include.”

Alex chuckled along with her. “That’s alright,” she assured. “Come on, let me stretch a few ideas for you,” she waved for the woman to follow her, leading them to her drawing table. The sigh of relief she heard tickled up her spine, and she had to resist shivering.

Drawing on little bits of knowledge she had picked up from Kara, Alex started with a simple base, offering the traditional symbol along with a few alternate designs—some softer, some sharper, some with broken or doubled lines to add a bit of extra dimension—before getting into a range of accenting options.

The woman was vocal with her thoughts as she looked over Alex’s shoulder, humming approving notes when something stood out to her, or commenting on the touches she liked, allowing Alex to easily evolve the piece. There was particular interest when she mentioned the phrase ‘el mayarah’ and explained its meaning.

“Oh! Ruby has definitely said that before,” she gushed, the happy little sigh that accompanied the words tugging at the corners of Alex’s lips, her grin so effortless. “We should definitely include that!”

It wasn’t long before they had a final design— staying true to the show’s version of the insignia and incorporating both ‘el mayarah’ and the script of the language used by Supergirl, wreathed by a flowy, cape-like backing.

“This will likely take two visits— one for the linework and base coat, and then another for the detailing. Is that okay?” She certainly wouldn’t be sad to see the woman again and grinned when she agreed. “You said you were hoping to have this on your back,” Alex prompted as she led the woman to her station.

“Over my heart, yeah,” she confirmed.

“I really like it,” Alex echoed the words spoken to her, and she genuinely meant it. She loved the way the woman talked about her daughter, how every word ran deep with love, how cherished the little girl was.

“Is there anything I should know... going in?” There was a surge of nervousness buzzing in the air as the woman shrugged out of her jacket, folding it neatly over the chair at Alex’s desk.

There was a moment—as Alex watched buttons slipping free of their holes—that she forgot herself, staring longer than might have been polite before she busied herself with putting on her gloves and arranging her inks. “Mostly that when I’m over your ribs, you will feel it,” she sucked in a sympathetic breath. “But, I’ll be gentle, and you can always take a break, if you need.”

She waved the woman toward the chair, turning away as she divested her bra and slid into place against the padding.

“Comfortable?” She got only a nod before she pulled up her own stool. “Relax,” she coaxed, placing a gentle hand on the woman’s back. “I’ll take good care of you and you can swear all you like.”

“Glad to know it.”

As Alex had warned, the woman did feel it. Her breath hissed through her teeth, a sharp inhale that tugged at her, but then she relaxed beneath Alex’s hand. “Good girl.” The words slipped out before she could think to question them, and her own breath caught in her lungs, her gun lifting away from the woman’s skin. There was a soft shiver and then stillness, the barest whimper bubbling out of the woman.

Alex could have perished. The woman was so pliant beneath her, and it took everything to concentrate on the design. But she leaned into that soft praise, continued to encourage her to stay loose, and things went very well—hardly needing to hold the woman still and working straight through without a break. And in the end, she did manage to finish the whole piece, running only slightly overtime.

There was a little disappointment knowing that she likely wouldn’t see the woman again. “If you need any touch-ups, you can always reach out,” she offered.

“Thank you,” the woman said as she gingerly slipped back into her jacket. She bent over Alex’s desk, scribbling something down on the sketchpad with all the trial drawings. “Maybe we could get dinner some time,” she nodded down at the page, where her number was scrawled.

“I’d like that,” Alex grinned, excitement blooming in her chest. The woman’s name was also there on the page. “Then, I’ll see you later, Sam.”

“I look forward to it, Alex.” The sentiment echoed through her for days, accompanied with the image of Sam’s haughty little smirk.

#tattooed!alex #tattoo artist alex #agentreign #danvarias #alex danvers #sam arias #mssirey #my writing

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crystalsenergy · 3 years

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Ascendant, Sun, Moon - the basics of your personality 🎭🌞🌙✨

people see me as...

Ascendant in Aries: an impetuous, brave, courageous, sincere, direct, scary person.

Ascendant in Taurus: stable, elegant, committed, persistent, calm, demanding, sensual.

Ascendant in Gemini: fickle, interested, lively, outgoing, friendly, talkative.

Ascendant in Cancer: sentimental, cute, warm, open, emotional, maternal / paternal, concerned.

Ascendant in Leo: outgoing, strong personality, creative, attractive, well dressed, charming.

Ascendant in Virgo: demanding, organized, methodical, closed, shy, intelligent, nerdy.

Ascendant in Libra: thoughtful, harmonic, gentle, polite, cute, patient, influenced.

Ascendant in Scorpio: deep, loyal, mysterious, secretive, possessive.

Ascendant in Sagittarius: expansive, friendly, outgoing, optimistic, humorous, exaggerated, direct.

Ascendant in Capricorn: closed, focused, objective, earthy, moody.

Ascendant in Aquarius: original, unique, different, eccentric, critical, open, friendly, strange.

Ascendant in Pisces: sensitive, caring, someone available to help

truly, i am…

Sun in Aries: a born leader, independent, sincere, direct, hard, impetuous, courageous, impatient.

Sun in Taurus: persistent, calm, aesthetic, vain, sensual, materialistic, connected to appearance.

Sun in Gemini: communicative, interested, fickle, lively, outgoing.

Sun in Cancer: loving, homely, romantic, emotionally attached, helpful, careful, sentimental.

Sun in Leo: creative, outgoing, energetic, show-off, dramatic.

Sun in Virgo: rational, organized, too concerned, methodical, connected to health, routine, timid.

Sun in Libra: aesthetic, balanced, thoughtful, non-judgmental, perfectionist.

Sun in Scorpio: deep, mysterious, intense, capable, courageous, faithful, jealous, possessive, vindictive.

Sun in Sagittarius: optimistic, outgoing, traveling, studious, philosophical, taking too much risk, exaggerating, can’t measure the dimensions of his/her attitudes (good and bad).

Sun in Capricorn: focused, methodical, concrete, objective, materialistic, terrain, closed, too traditional.

Sun in Aquarius: surprising, original, technological, stubborn, detached, critical, rational, self-controlled.

Sun in Pisces: sensitive, intuitive, creative, loving, concerned, emotionally very intelligent, benevolent, fickle.

my internal life is ...

Moon in Aries: full of desire to be on the move, i think a lot about my worth and my self-image. i’m impetuous and my weakness is not feeling good enough.

Moon in Taurus: my internal life is stable, i like to keep everything under my control, i’m earthly, i like life's pleasures and my fragility is in the lack of stability, especially financial / material.

Moon in Gemini: my internal life is fickle, i have a mood that changes all the time, i love unusual and different things.

Moon in Cancer: my internal life is naturally emotional, i'm very close to my family, being very influenced by what happens in it.

Moon in Leo: my internal life is intense, i seek attention and show my value to the world. what makes me feel good is to express myself and receive what i believe i want to deserve.

Moon in Virgo: my internal life is controlled, at least i try to keep it that way. i don't like having to deal with my emotions, and i like to feel useful, being very sensitive to criticism.

Moon in Libra: my internal life is a balance that i ALWAYS try to keep balanced, and when it's not like that, it makes me feel bad. i like to maintain the greatest possible harmony within myself.

Moon in Scorpio: my internal life is one of intense emotions, i desire completely faithful people and i'm very fragile to disappointments and annoyances, acting in a vindictive way. i'm faithful, intense, psychically sensitive.

Moon in Sagittarius: my internal life is intense, i like to feel on the move knowing something new or having fun, i hate very pessimistic situations, and i don't like when things are going too badly.

Moon in Capricorn: my internal life is very emotional and in control, and if the opposite happens i feel bad. my emotions are sensitive, but i prefer to keep them to myself.

Moon in Aquarius: my emotional is detached, i don't like to feel myself doing something that people want me to do, i feel a huge need to hide emotions and self-control them. i love to know new things and work on my originality.

Moon in Pisces: my intern is sensitive, creative and energetically powerful, i'm emotionally open without even noticing, and i feel the energies of people and environments with ease. my emotional is intuitive and my mood is sometimes affected by things that i don't even know would affect me.

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mercurytrinemoon · 4 years

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Random thoughts on Moon signs and why Aries Moon is annoying to have

I saw this tweet a while ago that had a list of planetary placements to die for. The first one was Aries Sun/Moon. As an Aries Moon myself, my response was "Nah-ahhh you DON'T want that. This is dangerous territory, trust me". And then I started thinking about Moon signs, why does Aries Moon suck, which Moon placements are nice and which not so much.

You know why Moon in Aries is bad? Sometimes you see these kids at grocery shops that start crying and yelling and tumbling on the floor because their parent doesn't want to buy them candy (actually, big chances are, they are Aries Moons, but that's not what I'm trying to convey here). As kids they are going to externalise their angry feelings, I mean, everyone's okay with that, they're kids, it's just candy. Worst case scenario, you're just going to roll your eyes at them. But think of an adult who has this screaming, hurt and angry kid inside. It's still there. It won't magically change signs once you're old enough. And yeah, it's going to yell sometimes. And be a cry-baby. And passionately experience every feeling with their whole self, good AND bad. Sometimes it's going to want to scream into a pillow because it's so impatient and frustrated and it just wants everything NOW. Someone on lindaland once said, “you don't have Moon with Moon in Aries, you just have two Marses”. Touché.

Okay but if you want to know something about Aries Moon, know that it feels the urge to be independent. Hates restrictions with their whole heart. Impulsive. Veryyyy impatient, as we have already established. Hates being told what to do. Having constant battle with their emotions. Open and naive (remember it's the child of the zodiac). Very cheery and child-like on one hand but on the other, emotions are expressed and felt in a very raw way, let's say, with a burning passion. Will chase everything. And you can only imagine how an Aries Moon feels when it catches the thing it wants. Likes being the first one in everything. Physical activity is good for their mental health. Kind of obsessed with sex.

Taurus Moon. It's Venusian. It's exalted. It's nice and cosy. It probably has a nice, soothing voice. Think of Elton John, he has Taurus Moon. Beautiful voice but also an eye for beauty and luxury. Can be stubborn in its emotions but hey, at least it's stable, right? It's sensual, just like everything Taurus, and probably loves food way too much. It's in touch with its own body and the only downfall to that is when a Taurus Moon person experiences negative emotions, it affects their whole body. Like, negative emotions can make them physically ill.

Gemini Moon. Ohh Geminis... You know that Mean Girls quote about Regina George "That's why her hair is so big. It's full of secrets". I think of that when I think of Gemini Moons. Like, they just know things. They collect secrets like some friggin Finnick Odair. And they analyze them, probably to the point of brain overheat. So, if you don't want a fried mind, I don't advise having a Gemini Moon. Not that you have a choice, but. They also like to talk. A lot. Love to gossip, just sayin. And seem very friendly when you talk to them. I say "seem" for a reason *whispers* don't trust them.

Cancer Moon. Mushy feelings. The homebodies. The family types. The comfy ones, but not in the way Taureans are. Gentle and creative. Likes to take care of others. Kinda reminds me of sitting with a hot cup of tea and typing poetry into your laptop on a rainy day. Idk. All water Moons are overly emotional but Cancer Moon can be moody and changeable and very sensitive to, you guessed it, Moon phases. CLINGY. You guys are clingy, just admit it.

Leo Moon. There's something about them... It's like the star quality of a Leo but it beams from within, you know? It's like something inside was pushing them towards greatness. They just have to believe in themselves and they will shine. Loves creative pursuits, arts, theatre, music, just anyhing fun. Expressive. Charming. Inspiring. Hopeless romantic. Can be flashy too, it's Leo after all. Wanna make them feel good? Compliment them, they LOVE it and need it.

Virgo Moon. Okay... for some reason I know a lot of Virgo Moons and let me tell you... there's something gentle about them. They're quiet and polite and - this is not a commonly talked about Virgo trait, but - they're softies, you know? But they need work, probably to distract themselves from all the thoughts. It's a lot more focused mercurial energy that Geminis, grounded and analytical. But that also makes them prone to overthinking and anxieties. Can be hard on themselves... so they work even more. And unlike Gemini Moons, they're SHYYYYY.

Libra Moon. Everyone loves them. Ugh the irresistible charm. They're the people's people. Again, it's that Venus. The difference is, Taurus loves to be loved and spoiled. Libra will love and spoil others, they just want to be nice and stuff. And they have an eye for beauty and arts. Chances are a Libra Moon person is beauty and art themselves. Has an internal need for relationships. But it's air so has a tendency to intellectualize these relationships... and everything else tbh. Great communication. Social.

Scorpio Moon. They straight up give me the creeps. My sister is a 0° Scorpio Moon so I KNOW. Don't get me wrong, I love Scorpio Suns... but Moons... It's like the water of the water, the over-emotional ones. Kiiiiiind of simmilar to Aries in the sense, that they feel emotions A LOT but it's not straight-forward like with Aries. Instead, it's pushy and passive-aggressive and manipulative, not very trustful and secretive. OH MY GOD, so secretive. It's just intense.

Sagittarius Moon. Ahhhhhh my favourite. And I don't think I say it because I'm Sag dominant... Sag Moons are just FUN. They exude FUN. Their playfulness and cheerfulness comes from their heart, that's why it's so special. Thinks and feels big. Big hopes and visions, maybe too big sometimes. Aries and Leo are focused more on the self, Sag on the other hand, is focused on the world - the actual world or a fictional one. Loves movies and is probably a bookworm. Philosophical. Optimistic and lighthearted. Kind of a dork - whether an adorable or annoying one lol.

Capricorn Moon. I'm sorry but ya'll are just depressing. I have Moon square Saturn so I kind of get the vibe. I feel like having a Cap Moon is like having something squashing you from the inside; very withdrawn. It's cool if you get to work, and Cap Moons can be workaholics and hard workers... But if you give into that hermitism (yea I just made that word up) and get lazy due to... things... or being too overwhelmed by that Saturn energy, you get squashed, basically. Also, fears and lots of reservations. I feel like these guys have issues with that.

Aquarius Moon. My Aqua friends... let me tell you. They're not necessary weirdos, as people say. But they are humanitarians at their core. Like, THEY JUST CARE. So that makes them sensitive. But not in a watery way. Can be veryyyy aloof and hard to get to. Will probably intellectualize their emotions and try to detach from them. All about people but not like a Libra. Difference is, Aqua wants to be independent. Expressive and intelligent.

Pisces Moon. My favourite water Moon. It's dreamy and soft. Yeah, a bit flakey, but let’s NOT talk about it. I feel like Pisces Moons just get emotions. They understand them because they're all about the collective. That makes them empathetic. Intuitive. Romantic. The artistic types. DAYDREAMERS TO THE MAX, they’re in another dimension. It’s like sometimes you talk to them but they’re somewhere else. Prolly loves being near the water, it's like the sea is calling them. May have escapist tendencies.

#YEAH that lil rant just happened #astrology #astrology notes #astro notes #astro rant #moon signs #aries moon #taurus moon #gemini moon #cancer moon #leo moon #virgo moon #libra moon #scorpio moon #sagittarius moon #capricorn moon #aquarius moon #pisces moon #mercurytrinemoon

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pennamesmith · 3 years

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For Want of a Skeletor

Entrapta hosts a Princess Alliance meeting at the Crypto Castle and absolutely nothing goes wrong. More Skeletor stories!

The lights were on late in Dryl.

Stars shone outside the windows. Entrapta sat hunched over her desk, studying datapads and readouts. A polite cough from the laboratory door caused her to look up from her work.

“Oh! I’m sorry Hordak, did I wake you?”

Her partner stepped softly into the room and shook his head. “Imp did. You know how he gets when either of us take too long to come to bed.”

Hordak crossed the cluttered floor and joined Entrapta at the desk. He was holding Imp in his arms, and the smaller, winged clone whined plaintively when he saw her. Entrapta kept her screens on, but leaned gratefully into Hordak’s side and curled a tendril of hair around his waist. She yawned, despite herself.

“I know. I just want to make sure I get everything right before the other princesses come over tomorrow.” She glanced back at the data, nervously tapping her fingertips together. “I’ve never hosted an Alliance meeting before! And this rescue will be our biggest mission since… well, you know. I don’t want to mess anything up.”

Hordak smiled. “Your diligence is admirable. But I also seem to recall someone telling me that imperfections are beautiful.”

Entrapta stuck out her tongue. “No fair.”

“I’m afraid the science is sound. Come to bed, my dear.”

The scientist scoffed, but she did not protest when Hordak gathered her up in his arms. She wrapped more of her hair around him, and Imp settled sleepily in the resulting nest. Entrapta could already feel herself drifting.

“You will be a shining star tomorrow,” Hordak promised, as he carried his family back to rest.

“Tomorrow,” echoed Imp.

The next day saw the Crypto Castle’s largest meeting room filled with princesses, dignitaries, and other honorary Alliance members. While Scorpia and Perfuma admired the tiny refreshments laid out for everyone, Mermista split her time between groaning at Sea Hawk’s boasts and trying every available chair to find the most comfortable one. Glimmer and Bow stepped uneasily around the edges of the room, watching carefully for anything that might be a trap, and Frosta followed their lead. Netossa and Spinnerella tried their best to find a chair Swift Wind could sit in.

Adora and Catra, wearing increasingly baffled expressions, were conversing with two domestic-looking robots who sat at the head of the table next to Entrapta. One was tall and skinny, and the other wore a welded-on handlebar mustache.

“Entrapta has parents?” Catra was asking, her face a galaxy of disbelief.

“Adopted, technically. Or adapted,” the skinnier bot explained. “We’re Entrapta’s parental units. She built us when she was six. You must have seen the painting in the foyer.”

“Yeah, we’ve been here pretty much the whole time,” the mustachioed model added. “You kids sure made a racket during your last few visits. What was that all about?”

“Uh,” Adora faltered.

To her immense relief, Hordak swept into the room at that very moment, flanked by Imp, Emily, and the reprogrammed Horde drone Entrapta had dubbed ‘Skeletor.’

“Welcome, everyone,” Hordak boomed, bringing the gathering to a respectful hush.

“Witless fools! I’m in charge now! And if you know what’s good for you you’ll do as I say!” Skeletor shouted.

Hordak scowled and shooed the fussing robot away from the table. “Pay no mind to that one,” he grumbled once he’d regained the floor. “Now then. Please allow me the honor of introducing the unparalleled mind who has made this operation possible, Princess Entrapta.”

“Thank you all for coming!” Entrapta started, while everyone took their seats. “I know you’re all excited about what we’re planning, but there’s still a lot of preparation to do before we can take off. As the chief science officers for this mission, it’s vital that Hordak and I gather as much data on your abilities as possible! Interdimensional travel is severely unpredictable and —”

“Hold on,” Mermista interrupted. “Exactly how high are the chances of us getting mutated by cosmic space energy or whatever? Because I only want cool mutations, not gross ones.”

“Maybe thirty, thirty-five percent?” Entrapta guessed. She shrugged. “A lot of this is theoretical. You guys will be like my guinea pigs! By which I mean the small robotic animals in the castle I protect and care for. And experiment on, sometimes.”

She laughed heartily. Glimmer and Bow shared a nervous glance. Perfuma turned slightly green.

Entrapta regained her composure and pointed back to the display board. “Ahem. Anyway, the good news is we already know some things about where we’re going! Probably.” She shuffled her notes, gaining confidence as she spoke.

“Before Adora found the Sword of Protection, historians debated ancient records of She-Ra. Some claimed she was called ‘Her-Ra’ and fought for the ‘Power of Grayskull.’ But I theorize that what those archaeologists actually uncovered was evidence of —”

“I have a question!” Frosta yelled. “Will there be hunky guys in the other dimension? I’m asking for a friend.”

“It’s funny you mention that, actually,” Entrapta replied. “Listen, just let me finish and…”

Unfortunately, anxious impatience had already gripped the assembled Alliance members. They clamored with questions, all talking at the same time. Entrapta shrank back in her seat and pulled her welding mask down, seeming to reach for something under the table.

Hordak stood up. Just as it looked like he was about to do something violent, a loud alarm sounded and the lights in the room flashed red.

“Uh-oh.” Entrapta glanced around at the assembled company. “Um, get ready to tuck and roll everybody!”

“Get ready to what?” Mermista cried out, but it was already too late. Multiple trap doors swung open across the meeting room floor, and with flailing limbs and startled shouts the guests were sent tumbling down chutes in every direction. In moments they had all vanished.

“I always feel so much better after doing something bad!” Skeletor cackled. “Now we begin phase two!”

Adora and Catra, who had clung to each other as they fell, landed with a bump in a darkened, underground space. As soon as they arrived, bright lights flickered to life and a huge screen lit up against the wall.

Entrapta’s face appeared on the monitor, larger than life. “Oh good! You’re alive,” she chirped when she saw the other two.

Adora clambered to her feet. “Entrapta! What’s going on?”

The scientist glanced away. “Well, I guess Skeletor didn’t like that we were ignoring him. So he stole my map of the castle and activated the security systems! Which means we’re all lost in the labyrinth until I can catch him. Isn’t that great?”

“It’s something,” Catra groaned, rubbing her head.

“Exactly! Now, without my map I can’t come find you. But if you can make it through the traps, the hallway you’re in should take you back to the meeting room. Then you’ll be safe until I can fix things!”

The screen dimmed again before Catra or Adora could protest. Left with few other options, they turned to get a good look at whatever dangers lay ahead.

They were standing at one end of a long corridor. Square blocks floated along its length, suspended in midair with anti-gravitational tech. An interrogative punctuation mark flashed on one, while a squat robot with painted-on angry eyebrows shambled slowly back and forth beneath it.

Catra took it all in. “You have got to be kidding.”

Adora had already drawn her sword and begun to venture forward. Catra was about to follow her, when something made her ears flick. A suspicious frown crossed her face.

“Hey, Adora!” Catra called. “Listen!”

“What?”

Catra pressed her ear to the wall. “There! Do you hear that?”

“Obviously not,” Adora huffed. “Now stop dawdling, the first puzzle looks pretty easy.”

Catra stayed where she was. “Hold on a second. This part of the castle feels familiar. I remember walking through here back when, uh, back when it was still Horde territory.” She coughed awkwardly, and then reached up to tilt the frame of a big-eyed kitten painting. “Look!”

Something clicked and the wall slid open, revealing a new passageway. Distinctive laughter could be heard coming from the other end of it. A purple neon sign reading “Secret Entrance!!!” buzzed to life.

Adora sighed and rolled her eyes.

“One time Entrapta had me and Scorpia over for a life-size Snakemen and Ladders game that got a little out of hand,” Catra explained as they entered the tunnel. At the far end there was a brightly lit office; inside, it was filled with laboratory equipment, video monitors, and a humble but dignified desk.

Hordak was sitting at the desk, in what appeared to be a smaller version of his old Fright Zone throne. It swiveled. Entrapta was sitting on the desk, and she waved as the other couple entered.

“Myaah! Sleep gas and stun-rays only, my evil minions!” muttered Skeletor, who was busy working the video monitors. On closer inspection, Adora realized that each of them showed some of the other princesses as they traversed the castle labyrinth.

“Welcome to mission control!” Entrapta sang, spreading her arms wide. “Hordak didn’t think you’d find us, but I had a hypothesis you might.”

“It was a ruse!” Adora gasped, scandalized. “You’re not lost at all!”

“You really need to hang out with Entrapta more if that still surprises you,” Catra observed. She looked at the monitors. “Ah, are they gonna be okay?”

“Better than!” Entrapta sprang off the desk, hanging by her hair as she showed off multiple datapads. “Everyone was getting a little… distracted upstairs, so I just decided to speed things up a teensy bit! The princesses using their powers to escape the maze will let me get all the readings we need, and then we can have a nice little party! I had the baker make tiny cakes.”

“I made sure Hordak’s doomberry pie was especially tasty!” Skeletor piped up.

“And it’s all perfectly safe!” Entrapta promised. Discreetly, a ribbon of hair reached out to push a blinking button. On the monitors, Mermista and Sea Hawk were rescued from a robot shark attack by a convenient change of the currents.

“This is hilarious,” Catra laughed, looking more closely. On one of the screens, Swift Wind was gleefully running loop-de-loops along a curving racetrack. “I think they’re actually having fun in there. Can we stay and watch?”

“I’m afraid not,” Hordak said. She-Ra’s — and your — assessment is the most important of all. But we’d love to have you over to the castle for dinner soon. Shall we say eight o’clock next week?”

“That sounds nice!” Adora chimed, before Catra could stop her.

“Splendid. I’ll cook,” Hordak concluded. Then he pressed a button on his desk, and a trapdoor sent the younger women plummeting through the floor.

Catra and Adora yelped in surprise, only for their fall to be cut short by an enormous pile of pillows on the level below. They struggled to their feet. Another corridor stretched away in front of them, filled with further challenges. Floating gold coins, each about four feet tall, indicated a pathway.

“Try not to have too much fun,” Hordak called good-naturedly as the trapdoor slid shut.

“Use the warp zone! It’s faster!” Entrapta added.

“Have a nice trip down!” said Skeletor.

Hordak settled back in his chair (it had soft armrests, and a cushion for lumbar support) and watched his partner at work. Entrapta flitted from screen to screen, taking notes and making adjustments. On one display, Bow and Glimmer had met up with Netossa and Spinnerella while navigating a cage minefield. On another, Frosta was making an ice bridge to help Perfuma and Scorpia cross a slow-moving spike trap.

“I’m sorry you had to use your backup plan. They really are utter fools if they ever doubted your genius,” Hordak mused.

“Different people have different strengths and weaknesses,” Entrapta replied, without looking up from her work. “And a good scientist collaborates whenever they can! Even if that requires a little creativity sometimes.”

Hordak nodded. “Fair enough. Nevertheless, I would not blame you if you wished to have nothing more to do with the Princess Alliance. Even their attempts to help you can seem… insensitive. You’re not obligated to forgive that.”

Skeletor looked up from his control panel and shook a fist. “Don’t you get awfully tired of being a hero all the time? Don’t you ever feel like doing something evil?”

“They’re trying to be good friends,” Entrapta defended. “And so am I. And if I really did need their help, maybe things would be different. But I’ve got it all under control!”

She vaulted across the room, flipping switches and turning dials along the way. On the monitors, Perfuma’s fall from a tall platform was gently broken by a sudden anti-gravitational field.

“Besides, forgiveness isn’t always about the person being forgiven. It’s also about taking back potential energy that was lost.”

“Did you learn that in my brother’s therapy group?” Hordak asked.

Entrapta smirked. “Actually, he got it from me.”

A pleasant ding sounded and Entrapta clapped her hair. “Hooray, everyone made it back! I’ll calculate the high scores and then we can continue the social experiment!”

“You astonish me every day,” Hordak purred as he rose to follow her. Entrapta put out her hand, and he took it.

“Wait for me!” Skeletor cried out. “You might get lost by yourself!”

One week later, a much smaller gathering of royals met in Dryl.

Catra and Adora sat together in one of the Crypto Castle’s least intimidating dining rooms, listening with barely-contained delight as Entrapta’s parental units thoroughly embarrassed their former boss.

“...And so I said to him, ‘I have charging ports Hordak, can you download raw data offa me?’ Ha! Oh, you shoulda seen his face!”

Hordak slouched in his chair. “I do not think we need to bore our guests with the details of this particular story,” he protested, feebly.

“Oh, I’m not bored at all! I want to hear everything,” Catra said. She leaned forward, grinning. “So, was this before or after you hooked him up to the lie detector?”

Entrapta giggled, and gave Hordak a gentle pat on the shoulder as she reached for another helping of his tiny quiche. All things considered, the night was going surprisingly well.

It was exactly what Entrapta wanted.

After dinner, wheeled bots carted away the leftovers and dirty dishes. Hordak poured coffee for himself and Adora, and the parental units retired to wherever it was they lived in the cavernous castle. Entrapta, lost in thought as usual, felt a familiar feline presence approach her.

“Thank you,” Catra said, sincerely. “Not just for this. For everything. For being so nice all the time. For making this mission happen. It means a lot to me.”

Entrapta smiled softly. “To me, too. Everyone makes mistakes. It would be a shame not to learn from them when we can.”

“Did you say something?” Skeletor squawked, suddenly materializing in the doorway.

Entrapta, unbothered, immediately produced a datapad. “Oh we’re just talking about the big rescue mission! Actually, you should probably take a look at my data, Skeletor. I haven’t told you much yet, and we might need you!” She held the blinking screen out happily.

Skeletor looked at the datapad. At first he seemed confused; then he boggled as he registered the information in front of him. “Eternia?” he gasped in disbelief. “Grayskull?”

His voice rose to a fevered pitch. “He-Man!”

For once, Skeletor had no words. He shrieked incomprehensibly instead, fists shaking.

Hordak chuckled. “It’ll be just like the old days!”

Skeletor screamed.

#spop #skeletor #entrapdak #entrapta #hordak #Catra #Adora #the princess alliance #smith stuff #fan fiction #thank you for reading

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mister-grass · 2 years

Text

Sacrifice AU

Part 2 :) ———————————- Redemption Sucks Ass. It’s been five years since the… Incident. Newtopians made a whole festivity out of it, it was a commemorated day and Sasha was always the star of it, the saviour that stayed. Anne and Marcy, their memories, were treated as the ones who gave their lives for the well being of Amphibia. You hated how they phrased that. Redemption. Sucks. Ass. Olivia looked at you, the way a worried mother would look at a problematic child. You knew that look too well. Marcy should be in your place. Scratch that. No one should be stuck in another dimension with no trash tv. You swear, those royal papers were staring back at you: A Frog needed this, a Toad did that, a Newt started a rebellion against you… How dare he! You were the Rebellion Queen. …Talking about that, where did your anarchy go? You feel so old. “I suck at this” “Nonsense dear, you’re great” “Bullshit, I’m better off fighting out there than doodling in here” “Well…” You groaned, hitting your head against the table. Olivia sighed at the colorful moment. “I know you rather stay as a commander with Grime and Yunan than ‘lose your time with legal issues’, and trust me when I say that I did everything in my power to give you as much time in the field as possible…” You actually appreciated Olivia, as she was true to her words. You were just a public face, and she took all the responsibility on her shoulders. Selfish, perhaps, but it worked. You tried, but you never understood Amphibian politics. She almost lost her inexistent hair when you tried to rule the place. “…Still, amphibians need someone to admire, someone that will inspire them…” She put her hand on your shoulder, as you looked at her with defeat “…Just endure a little bit of paperwork and we’ll be done for the day, yes?” “Yeah… Sorry Olivia” “Don’t worry about it” Dismissed the newt with her hand “Just another effort until they come back” That’s another thing you hated about this ordeal. Somehow Olivia was still in denial. “I don’t even know if they survived” “Sasha…” “I destroyed the box, Olivia” “You destroyed a gem-” “SAME FUCKING THING! It wouldn’t work without it!” “Calm down, remember to breath” She soothed you, patting your arm “Your pink is showing” You did notice as well, there was way too much energy running through you. “Is just… Ugh, forget it, yeah they’ll come back” “So little trust in your words” The newt shook her head “Please have faith in my child” “Olivia-” “Did you know Marcy has been working in a way to translate Amphibian technology into Human equivalents? She spent hours and hours at the library, excitedly contemplating the possibility of creating multiple portals” You stayed silent. That’s one thing you learned at the hands of redemption. Sometimes you should listen, and let other express themselves. That being said, you looked at Olivia like you’ll look at a mother that lost her baby at the hands of a house fire. It was heartbreaking. …And redemption sucks ass. “Even if she… Even if she somehow… Well…” There was sorrow in her eyes “…I’m pretty sure she’ll leave her research behind to other clever humans, she took that much with her” You nodded. Yes, they did get to grab some things before leaving. You lacked the hope anyways, but there’s no need to dwell on the impossible. “Until then tho, I’m stuck with… Paperwork” You huffed, getting a laugh from Olivia. “it’s not that bad-” The newt suddenly stopped “Did you hear that?” “Hear what?” As if on cue, cheers and screams reached your ears. They seemed to come from far away, and it must be a lot of amphibians for the sound to be travelling that far. Suddenly, a toad broke into the room. “L-lady Olivia…” Huffed the poor soldier, out of air “…Y-your majesty-” “Just commander, Arthur” “S-sorry your maj- Commander, c-commander, I…” He was struggling to breath, shocked by something you were unable to decipher “S-she’s back” “Who?” You heard Olivia ask at your side. “The H-heart warrior!” Impossible. That was impossible. Your body was reacting out of your control, and by the time you regained consciousness you were already at the entrance of the castle. A big castle you traveled running, without even noticing. A big castle you were at the third floor of, far east, fifth room. The cheers were loud now, so many laughing. When was the last time you’ve seen Amphibia this joyful?! Your mind only had time to process that thought before the sea of amphibians opened to reveal a cheerful figure in the midst of the festivities. Coffee eyes found blue ones at the distance. You weren’t even able to pinpoint the moment you walked down the stairs. “Anne” … But you’ll never forget the smile that brought hope to your soul.

#Dont worry Marcy is fine as well #Actually Olivia was on point with her prediction #Marcy the portal maker lets go punks!!!#Shes so clever #She cannot travel tho #Not yet #She wouldnt forgive herself if something happened and she wasnt able to prevent it #So yeah... :)#Sacrifice AU!#Tw #Swearing #Sasha Waybright #Anne Boonchuy #Marcy Wu #Lady Olivia #Amphibia #Spoilers #Fanfiction

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iatethepomegranate · 3 years

Text

Just a fic about Caleb buying a house in Rexxentrum with Beau and Yasha, and coping with that kind of change and newfound stability (and becoming Professor Widogast). Angst and fluff are at war in this fic.

Content warnings: lots of grief, Caleb's backstory, referenced child abuse

Chapter summary: The Nein goes shopping and Caleb is tired. The market offers up an expected memory, and the chance to hold a little piece of childhood in his hands.

Notes: Title is from Nine by Sleeping At Last.

****

Chapter 4: I let the scale tip and feel all of it, it's uncomfortable but right

Jester and Caduceus were a force to be reckoned with at the marketplace. They had already convinced Caleb to let them buy him a set of curtains for his side of the house. Thick fabric to block out most light and definitely any nosy neighbours. They were a soft yellow-green patterned with watercolour chamomile flowers, which they had figured out were native to the Zemni Fields behind Caleb’s back.

“These are so pretty Cay-leb,” Jester said, gently sliding them into the bag of holding with Fjord’s help as they stepped out of the shop. “We’ll put these up as soon as we get back, okay? Yasha promised she’ll help us.”

Yasha was a little way off with Kingsley, her arm over his shoulders as they looked at swords at a nearby market stall. Caduceus dragged everyone off to stock up on kitchen necessities and more seeds for Yasha’s garden. And a ton of baking supplies, because Yasha had begged Caduceus to teach her, even though everyone knew no one had to beg Caduceus for that kind of thing.

Essek, disguised as a half-elf with soft brown hair and eyes, held himself a little awkwardly here in the heart of the Dwendalian Empire, but he defiantly refused to complain. He had little input on Empire goods, aside from wine, about which Beauregard happily bickered with him. Caleb was happy enough to let the others direct him, even if he theoretically knew the markets better than they did.

He trusted them. And he was so tired.

So he quietly followed the Nein around the market and let them make decisions for him with minimal input. He must have looked wrecked, because Essek, despite his disguise and clear nervousness, held his hand to anchor him.

Fjord, Jester and Kingsley bought him a ton of high quality paper and ink for the study, with Essek’s subtle guidance. Caduceus picked out basic kitchen staples for Caleb that would keep him fed even if he didn't have much time to cook, in the event he couldn’t eat with Beau and Yasha. Veth found some orange-amber cushions that complemented the curtains. Yasha found an orange-white checkered tablecloth that she declared matched his hair and therefore was a necessity for the house. She and Beau bought two, one for each side.

Caleb, in a lucid moment, found a soft blue rug for Beau and Yasha’s bedroom and bought it for them, despite their objections. It was only fair he gave them something back after everything they were doing for him. He would have to work out the logistics of installing a real-world sex mirror later as a proper gift. He’d ask Essek to help, and Essek would do it, but he would hate every second of it. The one sex joke he had ever made in front of the Nein was 50% deflection. And jokes were very different from installing a sex mirror for someone.

Jester would be up for it. A little bit of gold dust would be enough for Caleb to hold it in place with Immovable Object while they secured it.

Caleb was pulled from his calculations about dimensions and weight for a ceiling mirror when Veth tugged on his hand. “Hey, Cay. There’s an old lady selling homemade quilts. Rexxentrum is very cold, and you are going to catch a chill if we don’t get you something better than that one shitty blanket. Come on.”

She led him over, catching up with the rest of the Nein. Jester was chatting with an old Zemian woman sitting behind the table behind piles of bright quilts. The stitching sparked an old, old memory in Caleb, and he found himself stepping closer before he had consciously thought about it.

“Ja, I make the trip up from Blumenthal every few months,” the old woman said in a thick Zemnian accent, much thicker than Caleb’s after all his time travelling.

Caleb froze for half a second, easing himself through the shock of that information. “Ah, hallo, grandmother. It is good to meet someone from home.” This conversation would be easier in Zemnian. Common lacked the polite Sie form that Caleb would typically have used for respect. But he wasn’t sure he could handle having this conversation in Zemnian, so it was probably for the best.

The woman smiled up at him, her lips wobbly with age. “Hallo, young man.”

Caleb’s knees ached a little, just to remind him some parts of him really were not young at all.

She held out a wrinkled hand for him to shake. “Call me Lisbeth.”

Caleb had a strange moment of indecision regarding his name, trying to remember if he had known this woman as a child but coming up empty; Blumenthal was just large enough that it was possible not to know everyone, and she may have even moved there after he was gone. “Ah, Caleb Widogast.” He shook her hand. “I grew up in Blumenthal. This stitching is…” Why was he just saying everything that came to his mind?

“Very traditional, ja.”

“Ja, my mother used to make quilts like these...” His was probably ash now.

He was dimly aware that the Nein were watching him, and that Veth had done an extremely visible double-take.

Lisbeth searched Caleb’s face for one terrifying moment, and he was convinced that maybe she did know him after all. But then, whatever she saw made her soften, and she reached beneath the table. “I like to save my best work for those who will appreciate it. Here.” She laid a thicker quilt on top of the others. “I made one like this for my grandson. He wears it like a cape around the house.”

The stitching was a little more intricate, and the squares were detailed with minimalist animal shapes. Mostly cats. Una had taken Caleb’s cat obsession to heart; the quilt she had made him had been similar. Painfully so.

Caleb traced the stitching of an orange cat, his vision blurring. Essek squeezed his hand. Caleb blinked until he could see again. Even with the disguise turning purple eyes to brown, these were definitely Essek’s eyes staring up at him with a familiar look of both affection and concern.

“We’ll take it,” said Veth. Veth, who had already bought Caleb a house, and cushions. This was… no.

“Veth.”

“Caleb.”

He sighed. “A word, please.” He took her hand, leading her a little away from the group. “Veth, this is too much.”

Veth’s eyes were wet. “No. No, it’s not. I saw how much this means to you. Caleb, you just talked about your childhood and your mother to a total stranger. That’s not…” She sighed. “I saw your face when she pulled out that quilt.”

“I cannot let you…” Caleb could barely speak. “Veth.” He swallowed. “You bought me a house. You are still buying things for me. This is… I can’t take this.”

“Why not?” There was an edge to her voice, but it was a genuine question. “I thought we were over this. Why is this the line?”

Caleb did not know where he found the strength to stay on his feet when all he wanted to do was fall in a heap. He stared at the dirt.

“Cay, look at me. Please.” Veth couldn’t reach his face, but she absolutely could conjure her mage hand to lift Caleb’s chin until he met her eyes. “Will having this make you happy? Or does it hurt too much? I won’t force you to take something that hurts you, but if this is because you don’t think you deserve it…”

“I don’t know, Veth.”

They had spent a long time alone together, relying on each other to survive. If anyone could read him, it was her. She stared at him for a few moments, eyes moving as if his face were a real book.

“I don’t think you would’ve struck up a conversation with a random Zemnian lady if this was the bad kind of pain,” she said. She rolled her shoulders back. “That settles it: you’re getting the quilt. I’ll get the Nein to chip in if that makes you feel less weird about it.”

It kind of did. And Caleb didn’t have it in him to argue anymore. “Ja, okay.”

Veth pulled him down so she could kiss his cheek and led him back to the stall. “All right, everyone give me your money.”

It was probably a sign of how bad Caleb looked that nobody questioned her. But when Essek reached for his pocket, Caleb reached out to stop him.

“No,” he said. “Not you.”

Essek frowned deeply with the half-elf’s face, but the expressions were undeniably him. “Caleb.”

“No. You need that money. Do not put me through this.”

Essek’s face softened. “All right.”

The rest of the Nein, even Kingsley who still barely knew Caleb from a bar of soap, coughed up enough coins to pay for the quilt. Lisbeth, a little teary herself, offered a discount, which they refused. Jester and Veth gave her extra gold that Caleb couldn’t count through his brain fog. Okay, he was very much not coping if he couldn’t even count things.

Veth was too small to pick up the quilt without dragging it on the floor, even after Lisbeth had gently folded it, so Yasha accepted it from Lisbeth and handed it to Caleb. Old muscle memory took over, and he buried his face in the soft fabric.

“Danke schön,” he said quietly.

Lisbeth smiled at him again, but it was sad. “You should come by the market and say hello before I go back home in a few weeks.”

“I will.” It would hurt a lot, but Caleb meant it.

“Take care, Schatz.”

No one had called him that in a long time. It hurt. It hurt so much.

Grief was funny like that sometimes. You think you’re getting on with things, doing okay, and then there will be a scent on the wind, an old term of endearment, stitching identical to your mother’s… and you break.

Caleb squeezed the quilt and barely held himself together as the Nein led him back home. Whatever shopping they had left to do… they had wordlessly agreed to leave it for another day.

****

Back home, Caleb asked to be alone for a bit. That meant Essek was allowed. They laid the quilt out on Caleb’s bed, Essek’s disguise abandoned. Caleb stopped fighting the tears, letting the sobs come as he smoothed out the edges, fingers catching on a stitched golden retriever puppy.

Essek pressed his palm between Caleb’s shoulder blades. “Sit. Please.”

Caleb lowered himself slowly, wholly convinced he would collapse if he wasn’t careful, and settled on the edge of the bed. Essek pushed him onto his back and curled up next to him, guiding Caleb’s head to settle against his chest. Limbs tangled together.

No more words were said for a while. Caleb drifted asleep at some point, waking with a headache. Essek left briefly to fetch him a cup of water. Caleb stretched and his back cracked a little bit. He felt hollowed out, but in a good way. The way you felt after a good, well-deserved cry.

Essek returned in a few minutes, wiping his own eyes on his sleeve, and made Caleb drink the whole cup. “You should eat something.”

“Soon.” Caleb still felt a bit queasy from the tears.

Essek tucked himself into Caleb’s side, arm around his waist. He squeezed, just a little, and kissed Caleb’s collarbone. Caleb pulled him in close and kissed the top of his head.

“Danke.” The word was not enough to express the depths of Caleb’s gratitude that Essek had lain here with him through his grief, that he had taken such a risk to stay at Caleb’s side in the market to begin with. Under better circumstances, Caleb would have been furious with Essek for that, but they both knew Caleb had needed him today.

Caleb slowly rubbed his palm across the surface of the quilt behind Essek’s back. It felt exactly the same as the one he’d had when he was little, which Una had repaired again and again over the years because he was so attached to it. She had made it last until he was seventeen. Until the night he had destroyed everything because of a false memory, primed by faux-patriotic indoctrination and horrific abuse. Caleb would never fully shake off the guilt. Not entirely. Whatever Trent had put in his head, it had been Caleb’s hands that set the fire. But it was getting easier to accept that Trent had engineered the situation very carefully, so that Caleb did not feel like he had another choice.

He was glad Veth had convinced him to accept the quilt. One more piece of his past reclaimed. One more piece that could become a comfort instead of a knife in his ribs.

Caleb felt better. The two of them slowly stretched out their limbs, rolled aching joints, and headed to Beau and Yasha’s side of the house. There was a scent of baking in the air. Not apple tarts--Caleb probably would have broken again if it had been, no matter how happy the memory. He could smell spices.

They stepped down the stairs into the living area. Beauregard was grumbling over some Cobalt Soul report, while Kingsley, notably bored, lazily slapped her leg with his tail over and over. Fjord listened to Beauregard’s complaints with a constructed look of sympathy. Veth was openly ignoring her, head in her spellbook once again. Yasha, Caduceus and Jester were notably absent.

“Oh!” Fjord was very quick to find an excuse to stop listening to her. “There you are. The others are baking biscuits that none of us can pronounce.”

Beauregard rolled her eyes. “I’m telling you I said it right.”

“Caleb, help us out,” said Kingsley. “They’re some kind of spiced biscuit dusted with sugar while they’re still hot. Normally for special occasions.”

“This is a special occasion,” Veth told him. “It’s got the same number of syllables as fluffernutter. I think.”

Caleb suspected he knew what they meant. “Ah. Pfeffernüsse.”

“Yeah, that.”

“Told you I was right,” Beauregard muttered.

“They’re very good,” said Caleb.

“I think the first batch is almost done,” said Veth. “You should be our taste tester.”

Caleb crouched beside her on his way to the kitchen, pointing at the book. “Veth, that rune is upside down.”

“Fuck!”

He found the spell she was copying out in his own spellbook and set it beside her. “Here. It’s easier with more than one source. I’ll be back to help you in a moment.”

Caleb then stepped into the kitchen, with Essek on his tail. Yasha had a pair of soft pink oven mitts on, pulling a tray from their dark metal oven. Jester held a bag of confectioner’s sugar, bouncing in anticipation while Caduceus tried half-heartedly to close the bag before she spilled it everywhere.

“You’re just in time, Mr Caleb,” Caduceus said, giving up. “The lady selling baking supplies at the market gave us the recipe. I am not going to try pronouncing it again.”

“Pfeffernüsse,” Caleb supplied again.

“Yeah, no.”

Jester snickered. “He kept trying to say it while you were upstairs. It was very cute.”

By now, Yasha had set the tray down and put another in the oven. “Caleb, Caleb, come here! Look!”

Caleb stepped to her side and gazed down at the cookie tray. They were a little less round than the pfeffernüsse Caleb was used to, but recognisable. Jester came over and sprinkled the sugar over them with far more grace than anyone had expected.

Once cooled a bit, they brought the biscuits out to the living area. They were soft like Caleb remembered, and the spice blend was excellent. “These are perfect,” he said. “Thank you.”

Yasha looked genuinely touched, and swept him into a huge hug.

“May I help you next time?” asked Essek. “I have never baked before.”

“Of course,” Yasha said. “Caduceus is going to teach us to make bread soon.” She held up her hands in a slow-motion shrug. “Goes well with soup?” Her voice went up at the end, making it sound like a question.

Kingsley, who had absolutely not paid any attention to the conversation, shoved an entire biscuit in his mouth, his eyes widening to a ludicrous degree. “What the fuck? This is the best thing I have ever tasted.”

“We are famous for our baked goods,” said Caleb.

“You’d think Zemnians would be a happier bunch if this is the shit they eat,” Beauregard said, her mouth covered in sugar.

“Depression baking is a cultural pastime,” Caleb said.

“Bro, what the fuck?”

“Do you think Astrid and Eadwulf eat these things?” asked Jester.

“Probably,” said Caleb. “We used to.” That reminded him; he needed to message Astrid and arrange a time to discuss the job offer. “Ah, one moment.” He pulled out the copper wire, sticking to Common for the sake of his companions. “Astrid, it’s Bren. The Professors delivered the offer. Do you have time to talk? I am a little nervous about it. Time and place?”

Astrid replied in Zemnian, “Do you remember Trent’s old office? I’m there now. Come when you are ready.”

Caleb re-upped the spell. “I will be there in half an hour,” he replied in Zemnian.

Still in Zemnian, Astrid replied one last time, “I look forward to it.”

Beauregard was the only one who could understand the Zemnian half of what Caleb had said. “Caleb, I don’t wanna be patronising, but are you feeling up to that?”

“I want to get it over with,” Caleb replied. He clarified for the rest of the group, “I am going to see Astrid soon, to talk about the job.”

“I’ll pack some cookies,” said Jester, grabbing the plate and rushing into the kitchen. Yasha chased after her before she could break anything.

“Do you want an escort?” asked Fjord.

“Nein. I’ll be all right.”

“You will call if you need us?” Fjord’s voice was firm; it wasn’t a question.

“Ja, of course.”

****

Caleb was out the door in a few minutes, carrying a cloth bundle of six Pfeffernüsse, all that had been left of the first batch. It was four in the afternoon, the air having chilled a little but it was still pleasant. Caleb didn’t mind the cold too much, as long as he wasn’t trapped in it.

Walking into the Shimmer Ward was less frightening than it used to be. There would always be a lingering hint of anxiety, but he had it well in hand. There were crownsguard stationed at the Academy gates; they silently let him pass into the manicured gardens of the campus.

Coming here as a teenager had been a dream come true, which had quickly become a nightmare. Maybe coming back here to teach would let him reclaim those memories, turn them into something useful. He headed to the nearest tower, where he knew most staff kept an office. Trent had rarely been in his, but Caleb recalled that Astrid had been teaching here, so it made sense she would make better use of it.

The tall marble archways and huge windows had not changed one bit since the last time Caleb had been here, not long before he murdered his parents. Maybe coming here was a bad idea, especially after the day he’d had. Or maybe he needed to get this over with. If he got emotional about being here, at least he could claim it was because he was tired.

Muscle memory carried Caleb to Trent’s old office. He felt nauseous. He knocked on the door. It swung open, seemingly of its own accord.

Astrid was seated behind the massive, heavy mahogany desk. Caleb knew from personal experience how sharp the corners could be. He was going to be sick.

Astrid set aside her pen, capping the inkwell front of her. “Hallo, Bren.”

Caleb swallowed before he spoke. “Astrid.”

Astrid continued in Zemnian, so Caleb decided to match her. “Sit down,” she said , gesturing to one of the three chairs. They looked spindly and delicate, but Caleb knew for a fact how sturdy they were. And how much force it took to break out of any bindings tying one’s arm to the arms of the chair.

Caleb took a deep breath through his nose, picking up the spices of the Pfeffernüsse. It helped. He placed the bundle on the desk. Astrid’s desk.

“Jester, Yasha and Caduceus are experimenting with Zemnian baking,” he said quietly, letting himself fall into a chair. “They’re good.”

Astrid raised an eyebrow, gently picking at the piece of twine holding the bundle closed. She lifted a biscuit from the cloth. “They smell right.”

“They taste right, too.”

Astrid split the biscuit in half, handing the larger part to Caleb. He wasn’t sure if it was affection or distrust. She waited for him to take the first bite but also quickly followed suit, so maybe a bit of both. Understandable.

“These are good,” she said, finishing the biscuit and rubbing a thumb across her sugared lips. Slowly. It had to be deliberate. “You look tired.”

“Long day.”

“How is the house?”

“Good. Different. I am...” He laughed, just a bit, thinking over the last couple days. “A little out of practice. I don’t know if you knew… I was homeless for a while. It felt safer.”

Astrid did not look surprised. “I know.” She exhaled through her nose, visibly rousing herself. “You wanted to talk about the job offer?”

“Alphira would have made a terrible Volstrucker.”

Astrid cracked a small smile. “She told me about your meeting today. I apologise for her clumsiness. You took it more gracefully than I would have.”

“I doubt it.” Caleb didn’t tell her about his breakdown behind the shop. “A shame the smut shop is gone.”

“Evidently their business fell apart without your patronage.” Astrid gave an extremely put-upon sigh. “Wulf found another place. Get him to give you directions.”

“Kingsley is curious.”

“Yes, I am sure that is your only motivation.” Astrid cleared her throat and visibly put her mind back on task. “Bettina needs a replacement. The Archmages are falling over themselves to sing your praises. They are, in some ways, full of shit. Hiring you will terrify them. I think you will like that.” She glanced at the now-closed door and lowered her voice. “Headmaster Zivan Margolin is a weak link to Trent, but a link nonetheless. Your presence will make his life very difficult.”

Caleb matched her volume. “Whoever decided the Headmaster of Soltryce Academy should be the same person as the Archmage of Conscription is…” He sighed, unable to put into words how much the deck had been stacked against him, Astrid, Wulf and every other child pulled into the Volstrucker program. And how much it upset him. “What the fuck.”

“Margolin is busy pretending he loves you,” said Astrid. “He’s become a little bold in his claims that he saw your potential from the beginning. The Martinet is growing uncomfortable with the implication and will throw him to the sharks to save his own skin. One word to the right people…”

Caleb knew Beauregard would carry the message to Yudala Fon in a heartbeat. “We need to be careful. Take it slow. We have disrupted the Volstrucker pipeline for the moment. We cannot afford to stumble now.”

Astrid leaned back in her seat, looking very much like a cat who had just eaten a bird it had been chasing for miles. She raised her voice to a normal volume. “So, you will take the job?”

“I might.”

“Bettina told me your demands,” said Astrid. “We’ll put them before the Archmages. See what we can do. If nothing else, making the demands will prove a point no matter what they do about them.”

“Astrid, I am serious. I want them fulfilled.”

“I know. Bettina has suggestions about the ethics lessons. I agree you should teach it as part of the Transmutation classes, at least for now. Would we have listened when we were students?”

“I think that depends on who it came from. And whether Trent had gotten to us yet.”

“I agree. I think you will make a more compelling speaker than anyone else we could find.” She smirked a little. “You were always charismatic, and you have the lived experience to make an impact.” She took another biscuit, chewing thoughtfully, eyes tracing through the air as if she was reading calculations. “You said you were nervous.”

Admitting that in the Sending had been an impulse decision, born out of an emotional day. He didn’t regret it. Outside the Nein, Astrid probably understood best that Caleb had always been an anxious person, even if he had handled it much more gracefully in his youth. When he eternally swung between deep insecurity and excessive arrogance owed to his skills, and the fact he had known very well how charming he could be. Anyway, Astrid and Wulf knew his old insecurities well. Now he had new ones, and Astrid was trying to be on his side as much as she could.

So Caleb voiced something he wasn’t sure he would ever tell anyone else. “I have always wanted to teach. You know that. But. It’s a lot of responsibility. Maybe Trent is still in my head a bit, but I am afraid. He said that I am not the only ‘one of us’ in the Assembly who went through similar trauma. What if I… turn out no better than he did?”

“He also said you were defined by your trauma, if I recall.” Astrid’s face had shuttered a bit the instant Caleb invoked Trent. “He likes to find our pressure points and push until we break. You know that.” She took a third biscuit and shoved it into his hand. “He saw what he wanted to see, and he wanted his vision of you to be what the rest of us saw as well. I… made an error. I misunderstood your ambitions. As did The Martinet.”

“What did Ludinus think I wanted?”

“Power. Like most others in the Assembly. Revenge. Like most Volstrucker who have thought deeply enough about what Trent put us through.”

“He would have been right. Once.”

“I know. The first time you came to me, you were still very angry.”

“I never stopped. My goals changed. I… learned better, I suppose.” Caleb owed so much to the Nein, especially his talks with Caduceus that helped clarify what he did and didn’t want in the end.

“I didn’t. You know I would’ve killed him if you hadn’t stopped me.”

“I wouldn’t have resented you if you had.”

“You were right to stop me. It was more satisfying to shame him in public and have him tossed in a dark cell with a silencing collar glued to his neck forever.”

“And his hands glued together for just as long.”

Astrid’s eyes softened a bit. “One of the most beautiful things I have seen in my life.” Her gaze lingered on him, just a second longer than either of them could dismiss as casual. “How’s your beacon thief?”

“He’s fine.” Caleb wasn’t sure he could handle talking about his current partner with Astrid of all people.

“Have you seen him recently?”

“I am not telling you that.”

“I won’t turn him in. It would not go well for me.” Astrid rested her chin in her hands, searching his face. “Are you two happy?”

“Yes.” Caleb did not offer further details, and Astrid did not pry.

“You deserve it.” She smiled down at the bundle of biscuits. “Tell your friends thank you for the Pfeffernüsse. Will you take the job?”

“I will.”

“Good. For what it’s worth, I think you will be a good professor. You and I both know how important that will be.”

Caleb matched her sad smile. “No more children on the pyre.”

“No more.”

Caleb felt better. He could do this. It would take more than one person to make change, but he could do his part. Astrid had her ambitions, but he knew her in a way very few people did. There were conversations to be had between them, more damage to stitch up.

But it had been a long, emotional day. There would be more days. More time to pull the vulnerable from the flames, to stand between them and the remaining elements of this government who would use, abuse and discard them.

And, he hoped, time to care for those had already been hurt.

#caleb widogast #shadowgast #critical role #fanfiction #my fics #the pomegranate's professor widogast fic

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nightcoremoon · 3 years

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it's evident people haven't watched enough kids media to adequately understand just what constitutes a kids show as opposed to a show that kids can watch and be entertained by

when I was a kid I watched king of the hill and blues clues (among other things). king of the hill is NOT a kids show by any stretch of the imagination; it is an adult animation, replete with fairly heavy subject matter, sexual themes, political humor, cultural references that kids won't understand, discussion of religion in the modern day, depression and suicidal thoughts, adultery, puberty and sexual awakenings, body image, propane, propane accessories, and ultimately above all else what it means to be family. and blues clues is a show about a man who plays with a shovel & pail, talks to his condiments and mailbox, and sometimes he teleports into the felt dimension, all while playing Sherlock Holmes hercule poirot with his dog, and teaching kids how to count and draw and recognize colors and learn their ABCs. do you see the fucking difference? no? then I'll make it more clear.

dora the explorer & go diego go, mickey mouse clubhouse, handy manny, octonauts, bob the builder, super why, wild kratts, zoboomafoo, jojo's circus, wow wow wubbzy, stanley, doc mcstuffins, max & ruby, wonder pets, bubble guppies, ni hao khai lan, backyardigans, little einsteins, caillou (ugh) and p*w p*trol (double ugh), these are all undeniably kids shows. their audience is children (and the occasional adult by age with severe intellectual disabilities) and maybe the parents whose brains are too fried to care what's on the tv. these shows main purpose is to educate while entertaining on subjects one would encounter in preschool and kindergarten. counting 1-10, ABCs, basic color, basic language, basic intrapersonal skills, basic emotional literacy, problem solving, using your imagination, what sounds do animals make, breaking the fourth wall to ask the audience to answer what's 2+2 or tell them a lesson they learned today like I LEARNED TO NEVER JUDGE A BOOK BY ITS COVER or some simple message like that. it's always light, there's no edgelord grimdark "what if they were dead the whole time" bullshit. it's just good clean simple wholesome [except for paw patrol] programs for kids to be distracted for a little bit of time, while also letting them walk away having said they learned something. at least half of the time dedicated to every single one of these shows is devoted to the same shit over and over again. I'm the map I'm the map I'm the map I'm the map I'm the map I'm the map WE FUCKING GET IT YOURE THE MAP! backpack backpack I'm the backpack loaded up with things and knickknacks too, anything that you might need I've got inside for you. we did it we did it we did it HOORAY! come on vamanos everybody let's go, come on let's get to it, I know that we can do it,

WHERE ARE WE GOING

👏🏻👏🏻👏🏻

THESE SONGS ARE BURNED INTO MY BRAIN AND THEYLL BE STUCK IN MY HEAD UNTIL I DIE

say click take a pic, the hot dog dance, CAN HE FIX IT???, pizza! spaghetti!, THE DOC IS IN AND SHELL FIX YOU UP, max & ruby ruby & max max & ruby ruby & max MAX & RUBY RUBY & MAX MAX & RUBY RUBY & MAX, wonder pets wonder pets we're on our way to help the friend and save the day, we're not too big and we're not too tough but when we work together we've got the right stuff, goooOOO WONDER PETS YAAAAY~, yoooour backyard friends the backyardigans (weve got the whole wide world in our yard to explore, thATS WHY EVERY DAY WEEEEERE BACK FOR MOOOORE), were going on a trip in our little rocket ship SOARING THROOOOOUGH THE SKY!!! little einsteins!

I swear to god I've been forced to watch so much children's television in my life it's no wonder there's no room left for serotonin executive function or the ability to speak to morons

point is I know my way around kids shows. my sisters were born in 98, 02, 05, 06, 10, and 18, I think, I don't even know because they're all a blur, I'm literally closer in age to my parents than to my youngest sibling, I never stopped being exposed to kids shows. I know what is and is not a kids show.

adventure time? not a kids show even though kids watch it. it's a "for everyone" show. it's got a target audience of 100% of the planet. steven universe? not a kids show even though kids watch it. miraculous ladybug? not a kids show even though kids watch it. scooby doo? not a kids show even though kids watch it. I'm not discussing the history of adult acceptance of animation, adult animation, or anime, so don't ask. dexter's laboratory. the grim adventures of billy & mandy. codename kids next door. teen titans. fairly oddparents. kim possible. invader zim. AVATAR THE LAST AIRBENDER. totally spies. courage the cowardly dog. the proud family. SPONGEBOB F*ING SQUAREPANTS. powerpuff girls. foster's home for imaginary friends. oh yeah you know what's coming next. my little goddamn pony friendship is mother fucking magic is not. a. kids. show. even though kids can watch it. it is a cartoon. it is an everyone show. that's why it's disingenuous and fucking stupid to decry any fan over the age of 7 as a pedophile and a weirdo creep; it participates in the infantilization of femininity. why is it ok for 20somethings to keep watching aang and squidward and finn & jake and zim and "return the slab" and everyone's totally fine wth that but when it's twilight sparkle suddenly everyone's like whoa you're a huge fucking loser for watching this girly wussy baby show for girly wussy babies. oh some bronies are sex crazed perverts? I'm sorry have you seen just how much porn there is for spongebob? oh some bronies are cringe? I'm sorry have you met half the steven universe fandom? oh some bronies are fascist rick sanchez kinnies with fedoras and katanas? BREAKING BAD FANS, HELLO!?!?!?

this is such a stupid tiring boring argument. maybe magic talking horses being friends and turning their friendship into magic rainbow nuclear fucking arms and blasting the evil out of a demon and turning her into the coolest fucking half-unicorn biker lesbian in the world is something that brings me, and adult, pure wholesome joy, in between bojack horseman and dark souls and breaking bad and deftones and fallout new vegas and jojo and cannibal corpse and other bleak depressing edgy shit that also brings me comfort. and MAYBE me at 16 starting to watch MLP:FIM becoming finally comfortable with the outward public expression of "traditionally feminine" interests is the main reason why I realized I was a girl when I did, and MAYBE I just like how pretty the colorful ponies look, AND MAYBE I KIN WITH ONE OR TWO OR EIGHT CHARACTERS, WHAT OF IT?

AND MAYBE ITS LITERALLY THE BEST LONG RUNNING FANTASY TV SERIES ON THE MARKET RIGHT NOW* SINCE GAME OF THRONES FUCKING SUCKS

but whatever, kids watch it sometimes so it's illegal for anyone who's not a kid to enjoy it, but only if it's something girly because liking girly things is bad because girliness is inherently bad, and the only things that are good have predominantly male casts*. right? right??? wrong, fucker. g4mlp has so much more in common with adventure time & atla than with blues clues or dora the fucking explora...r.

but keep in mind I'm saying this while hugging a blues clues plushie my grandma gave me for valentine's day because it reminds her of when I was a baby because I may not watch blues clues but it still means a lot to me for nostalgia and is 50% of the reason why I love ray charles. kids media isn't necessarily bad. I still do enjoy watching it with my little sisters. all this is is me being anal about categorization because I'm autistic and I LIVE for categorizing everything.

*besides atla obviously

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geralehane · 3 years

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an unlikely cupid

Raven and Clarke get drunk and accidentally summon Lexa the old and powerful deity who's also hopelessly, helplessly gay.

or, the one where Lexa and Clarke live happily ever after.

READ ON AO3

patreon | ko-fi

If Clarke has ever learned anything in life, it would be two things. One: most ideas Raven comes up with are surprisingly idiotic, considering her brilliance. Two: Drunk Clarke never agrees with anything Sober Clarke thinks, and Raven’s ideas being idiotic is not an exception.

In fact, Drunk Clarke loves Raven’s ideas. Which is exactly how the two of them find themselves in their dorm at two-fifty five in the morning, spilling whiskey all over a wooden board Raven found in her grandma’s attic last weekend.

A wooden Ouija board, to be precise.

Sober Clarke told Raven to burn it down. Drunk Clarke giggles and snatches it from her hands, eagerly looking it over. “How do we know it works?”

“Fuck if I know,” is her answer as Raven takes a huge swig straight from the bottle, wincing at the strong burn. “We place our fingers on this small thing and hope for the best.”

“That’s what she said,” Clarke hiccups. “You ready? We ready?”

Raven’s enthusiastic nod and the splash of whiskey from the bottle notify her that everyone is more than ready. “Alright,” Clarke says. “Wait, why are we doing this, again?”

“Cause Halloween, man,” Raven loudly lets her know, nodding at her own words.

“Oh.” Clarke thinks for a minute. “True.” She squints at the board. “Is it okay that we spilled whiskey on it?”

Raven nods.

“Is it okay if I lick it off?”

Raven nods again.

So Clarke does. She drools a little on it, right in the center, but she’s too drunk to care, so she simply wipes it away.

“Hot,” her friend comments with a wide, sloppy grin. “Okay. Gimme those sausages, Griffin.”

“Hey!” Clarke makes two fists, hiding her fingers. “Fuck you. They are not sausages. They are magnificent.”

“As someone who bangs chicks, you’d think you’d learn to appreciate the gift from gods.”

“I’d trade them for a girlfriend,” Clarke says. “Or Cheetos. I’m hungry.”

“Quit dicking around and let’s do this.”

Clarke doesn’t voice another that’s what she said, but she makes damn sure Raven gets her train of thought when she waggles her eyebrows at her.

All Lexa wanted was to come back to her plane of existence and climb in a bathtub. That’s literally all she wanted. She doesn’t even particularly cares if there’s going to be water in it. She just likes the concept. Sometimes, humans have the best ideas.

Everything is giving her a headache that day. It’s like the whole universe with every world in it have decided to band together against her. Well. That’s Halloween for her. Despite it becoming a largely commercial holiday, no one cancelled Samhain just because humans decided they wanted to be a Joker once a year.

Vile creature, that man – and she says that as someone who’s viewed as demonic. She’s not actually a demon – that’s common misconception. She’s just an old goddess. Humans know a lot of her names, and none of them can even begin to imagine that she’s the one behind those faces, portrayed grim, evil, and, most offensively, male.

Lexa sighs. Her Hades days were certainly the most fun, but the tale’s been twisted so much she’s not sure she enjoys those memories quite in the same way. Oh well. Samhain is almost over. She can finally kick back and relax in a hot tub and maybe open up a bottle of ambrosia she saved for a special occasion. And what could be more special than a night of self-care?

Now, Lexa never considered herself particularly lucky. Mostly because Luck and her had a brief affair that did not end well, and she’s been mildly cursed ever since. Nothing she can’t live with, of course – but just a tad inconvenient. She’s certainly learned to cherish small blessings. That’s why, when she feels a tell-tale tug in her gut before being hurled back to a dimension she’s just left, she’s not even surprised. She simply whispers a quick thank you that she hasn’t taken her clothes off yet.

With that, she sighs and lets herself be whisked away back to Earth, wondering with scientific curiosity who could have possibly found out the summoning spell.

“I’m pretty sure you’re doing it wrong.”

“This seems like a ‘that’s what she said’ moment, but I assure you, she’s never said that.”

Raven blinks. Reaches for the bottle and pouts when she finds it empty. “Who is she, anyway?”

“Fuck if I know,” Clarke repeats Raven’s words from earlier. “And I’m not doing anything wrong. You’re supposed to move this thing,” she gestures to the heart-shaped piece of wood, with a hole in the middle of it that she looks through at Raven.

“Maybe there’s an instruction or something,” Raven mutters, grabbing the planchette. Clarke resists and tugs it back, resulting in Raven’s forehead colliding with her mouth. Hard.

“Shit!” Clarke exclaims when a droplet of blood falls onto the board from her now-split lip. “Raven, what the fuck?”

Her friend only shrugs apologetically. Not even apologetically. In fact, she doesn’t even shrug. “You’re doing it wrong,” she says.

“I do everything right,” Clarke argues, taking the planchette back. “Sit and watch. And prepare for an I told you so.”

Lexa blinks when the spinning finally stops and she’s rematerialized in what appears to be a room in a college dormitory. That alone surprises her more than anything that’s happened today. Surely, a college student couldn’t have known all the steps necessary to complete a ritual.

“…prepare for an I told you so,” she catches and turns in the direction of the voice, squinting. English. American English, to be exact. Things are taking an interesting turn. She was expecting a bunch of men unsatisfied with life and recent feminist movement. Not two drunk college girls.

She comes closer to get a better look at them, and no, she’s definitely not prepared for what she sees. And what she sees is an angel. An actual angel with a bloody lip and unfocused gaze and a strong alcoholic smell. An angel with blonde tresses and bluest eyes.

Lexa can’t stop herself from letting out the smallest, softest gasp.

She’s immensely grateful for her ability to be invisible.

She’s frozen in place, eyes taking in every inch of the girl’s body when that same voice – and oh, what a voice it is! – addresses the room, husky and low. “Is anyone here with us?”

Lexa takes a deep breath, rubs her suddenly cold hands, and hesitantly steps forward, placing her own fingers on the wooden planchette and shakily dragging it to the word “yes”.

“Raven!” Clarke yelps, jumping from the board. “Raven, I did it!”

Raven, however, does not share her enthusiasm. “Yeah,” she says blankly. “I saw you move it.”

“No, see, see,” with fast slurred speech and disheveled hair, Clarke more closely resembles a maniac than a bright daughter of two respected surgeons. “I didn’t – Raven,” she gasps, happy she finally gets a good reason to pause for a dramatic effect. “I didn’t move it,” she finishes in a loud whisper.

Raven stares at her. And stares. And stares some more before she starts to chuckle, slowly at first. Soon, it escalated into a continuous giggling. “Sure, Clarke,” she manages to say. “I believe you.”

“But I’m telling the truth!” Clarke gets suddenly upset. Why doesn’t Raven believe her?

“And I’m marrying Finn tomorrow. Get real, Griff.” The planchette hits Raven’s forehead as soon as she’s finished talking.

“See!”

Clarke’s triumphant yell pales in contrast with Raven’s terrified scream.

That is very, very loud. Lexa does not like loud.

Unless Clarke likes loud. Then she loves loud.

Right now, however, it’s starting to become a little extreme. So she sighs and waves her hand, silencing the girl whose name is Raven. She has to admit – watching her try to scream silently is mildly amusing.

But then it scares Clarke, too. “Who’s here? Who’s doing this?”

She sighs again. Then, she makes her voice audible so that Clarke can hear you. “You have noting to fear. My name is Lexa. I will give your friend her voice back, but only if she promises not to scream.”

After Raven’s rigorous nodding, Lexa waves her hand again, and the girl coughs, eyes wide and expression sober. “Who – who are you?!”

“Oh,” Lexa says, because she hasn’t really thought things this far. “I have many names and positions. I believe you know me as the devil, but I promise you, I’m vastly different from that portrayal.”

Raven blinks. “Did she just say she’s Satan?”

“I think so,” Clarke whispers back, and Lexa freezes again, watching the way she presses her lips together. How is she so beautiful?

“Does Satan really expect me to believe she’s, what, nice?”

“Well, yes,” Lexa speaks up. “That would be a polite thing to do.”

“Oh hell no,” Raven says. “I don’t play with demons,” she announces, despite the fact that it’s exactly what she’s been doing for the past half an hour. “If you’re nice, tell us how to get rid of you.”

Now it’s Lexa’s turn to blink. “I’m afraid that’s not possible,” she says apologetically. Then her eyes widen with realization. “Oh! You meant get me to leave this room?”

“Yeah. Exactly. How do we do that?”

“Oh, you – you don’t. I can come and go as I please now. That’s the whole point of the summoning spell.”

Clarke and Raven look at each other, eyes wide. “The what now?!”

So turns out that while Luck and Lexa are not exactly pals, Fate definitely favors her. Through a series of events that they can’t exactly deem either fortunate or unfortunate just yet, Clarke and Raven manage to accidentally summon one of the most powerful beings known to man. And that being just happens to fall head over heels for Clarke.

Raven finds it weird. Clarke finds it sweet. And Fate – well, Fate doesn’t find it impossible.

“Lexa, dear,” she mumbles around a thin cigarette while Lexa broods all over her realm, having just come back from Earth after yet another night with Clarke, full of talking and laughing and soft unspoken confessions on both ends. “Just take some time off and spend a life with that girl. She’ll join you after it’s over anyway. What’s seventy years to you? A blink of an eye. Besides, have you forgotten how fun it is to grow old?”

So Lexa sighs, fishes the best outfit she has out of her memory, and goes back to earth wearing her corporeal form and a pale blue oxford shirt with sleeves rolled up. She faintly recalls Clarke liking that.

In hindsight, waiting for Clarke in her room might not have been her best idea, but can she be blamed, really? She got used to it. She just kinda forgot she wasn’t visible all previous times she’s been there.

Clarke walks through her door a moment later, eyes on her phone. “Lexa, I’m home!” she calls out, not looking up as she kicks her shoes off. “You here? Le- Jesus fucking Christ!”

Lexa never particularly liked the man, but the profanity still makes her wince. “Hello, Clarke.”

“Holy shit,” Clarke exhales, pressing a hand to her chest and bending to retrieve her phone that fell out of her grip when she jumped in fright upon finding a stranger sitting on her bed. “Who are you? Damn it, Raven. I told her to always let me kno- wait a minute.” She stops, blinking. “I know that voice.”

Lexa feels her lips stretch in a smile. It’s an incredible feeling. “Hello, Clarke.” She repeats, rising to her feet and offering her a giant bouquet she retrieves from thin air.

“Oh God,” Clarke whispers, rapidly blinking sudden tears away. “Lexa. Oh my God.”

“Well, technically, yes,” Lexa says, “but we can skip the formalities.”

Clarke’s warm, solid body slams into hers next, and she huffs in surprise, falling down on Clarke’s bed with the girl on top of her, clinging to her. “Lexa,” Clarke sobs. “You’re here. It’s you. You’re here.”

“Yes,” she confirms. “I’m here. It’s me.”

Clarke’s lips on hers feel better than anything she’s ever experienced, and she’s been around for a little longer than eternity. “I can’t believe I’m holding you in my arms,” Clarke whispers when they part, breathing ragged. “You’re so real. So warm, too. Is that – is that how you really look like?”

“Yes,” she gives another affirmative. “I’m not wearing someone’s body. We’ve been over this.”

“I know,” Clarke chuckles. “I’m just checking.”

She trails a finger down Lexa’s cheek, slow and tender. Lexa sees the unspoken question in her eyes. She answers with no hesitation. “I’m here to stay. For as long as you want me.”

“Then that means you’re stuck with me forever.”

Lexa laughs. “Wouldn’t have it any other way. Although I do believe it’s the other way around. Clarke, I…” she swallows, and Clarke smoothes her thumb over the skin of her throat where it bobs. “If you ever decide to end our – this, I’ll understand. But I’m afraid I’m a little different.”

“Lexa,” Clarke coos, shushing her. She’s still roaming her hands all over her body, and it’s way less sexual than it sounds. She’s simply feeling Lexa. And Lexa’s completely okay with that. “When I said forever, I knew who I was talking to you. It’s not just a word anymore.” She leans in, pressing another kiss to Lexa’s lips. “For us, it’s a reality.”

Lexa’s heart soars when she says ‘for us.’ It jumps and stops and restarts, beating so fast she’s afraid it’ll jump out of her chest.

“A reality,” she whispers. “I like the sound of that.”

“And I like your face.” Clarke squints. “You didn’t tell me you were this hot.”

“I’ve exited for millions of years, Clarke,” Lexa reminds her. “I do not have an opinion on beauty, because it is as made up as it is subjective.”

“A concept can’t be made up and subjective at the same time.”

“Let me correct myself, then. I used to think it was made up.” Her smile grows. “Then I met you.”

“You’re so getting lucky tonight, I hope you know that.” Soft lips capture hers, and Lexa gloats.

Suck on this, Luck.

#clexa #femslash #wlw fic #halloween #spooktober femslash #hi yall im reposting my older halloween-y fics that i haven't posted to tumblr enjoy

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defenderrosetyler · 3 years

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Words in the Office

For: @anyfandomgoesbingo Square Filled: Office CEO WC: 1724 Show/Pair: Rose Tyler and the 10th Doctor from Doctor Who No Beta “Rose Tyler, you are not going out like that!” Jackie Tyler scolds her daughter. This caused the young woman to huff as she grabbed her three-inch high heels. She knew she should have changed her outfit in the TARDIS. It would have saved her from this particular conversation with her Mum.

“Mum, it’s nothing major and I don’t look all that bad,” Rose says pinning her hair back from the curls she’d just spent at least an hour on. “Besides, no one will be looking at my bum anyway, it’s mainly for research.” She attempts to lie biting her lower lip. This sent Jackie into a whole rant about how she’d changed ever since she met the Doctor only three years ago. That particular meeting saved her life and made Rose realize what she wanted, besides being a girl in the Henricks shop folding clothes all day. Of course, the Doctor had regenerated since she’d first met him, but that didn’t mean she loved him, and his two hearts, any less. The Doctor was a Time Lord from the planet Gallifrey. When the two met, he’d saved her life from plastic window shop dummies that were destined to attack all of London. Since then, they’d shared many adventures. Rose even got to officially meet her Dad, even if she’d mistakenly caused a paradox.

This time the Doctor, the 10th incarnation to be precise had noticed some strange readings in a nearby office space. Hence the reason why Rose had dressed up for this particular outing. She was showing as a Health and Safety officer, distracting others so the Doctor could come in and see what type of alien was threatening the earth this time. Having finally escaped her Mum, Rose sighed approaching the blue police box that was the TARIDS. The Time and Relative Dimensions in Space box. Made of Gallifrayen tech, bigger on the inside than its outside. Using her silver TARDIS key, Rose entered inside. Heels click-clacking on the grates. “Doctor? We’re gonna be late for my appointment!” The blonde called standing by the console. Echoing in the halls, the clank of the Doctor’s sneakers echoed. His eyes glanced over her figure. Rose had chosen a subtle blue dress that hugged her body and seemed to make her look more beautiful than the normal ‘Pink and Yellow’ human he’d nicknamed her. Seeing her in this outfit, reminded him of the first time his previous face looked at her before they met Charles Dickens. Or, on most recent adventures, of how she looked in a roman toga dealing with the goddess Fortuna. “Wow….You look stunning,” he says, stammering a bit. Normally the Doctor liked to ramble, but when it came to one Rose Tyler, she took his breath away. “Ya know I still don’t like the idea of you posing for something again, you know what happened last time. Had you and me both turned into stone.” He reminds her gently.

Rose rolled her eyes just like Jackie. “I’m not dealing with a stone carver now am I?” She teased, giving him her usual teasing tongue through her teeth smile. Arriving at the artist’s photo studio, Rose made her way inside to wait for her photo session. The Doctor was busy using his sonic screwdriver to make his way past locked doors. There was something here, he just didn’t know what yet. Something was wrong, but he wasn’t able to figure out what. As the Doctor explored the office, Rose stood with the photographer when a certain stench had filled the air. “Do you smell that?” She asks one of the other models.

The redhead brushed it off as if it was nothing. “No worse than my husband’s cologne,” she replied in a Scottish accent.

Rose rolled her eyes and tried to focus on the photographer. The Doctor in the meantime was trying to figure out what this alien was. The creature he’d faced was bothering him, that nagging feeling of knowing something before but couldn’t put his finger on it. As his luck would have it, he and Rose were not the only ones working on this. Kate Stewart. Daughter of the Doctor’s dear friend the brigadier, now head of UNIT, the unified task force, had caught wind of this. One of her officers had reported the sighting of the TARDIS to her. Her father always made sure to have the number to the TARDIS in her phone in case he was ever needed, or in the event of his passing, the Doctor would be the first to know. She dialed him, but there was no answer as he wasn’t in the TARDIS. Blast. How was she supposed to tell him the Zygons were back? Having a gut feeling of what was possibly occurring, The Doctor had grabbed the machine he’d invented when it goes *Ding* there was an alien nearby. Needless to say, it never had a name, just called ‘the machine that goes ding. As he neared the set of the photoshoot, his machine started chiming like a bell. “Oh no….” he whispered. He finally realized what they were dealing with. “Zygons, Rose is surrounded by Zygons!” As he’d figured it out, the red creatures appeared, ready to take Rose as their next victim. “Oi! You lot!” The Doctor called, popping out of his hiding spot. “I don’t think you want to mess with her.”

“Doctor….We meet again.” The Zygon hissed. This made Rose puzzled She’d never met them before. Was this another part of his past she didn’t know? Like Sarah Jane.

“Yes, but it’s just me this time, but I’m still going to have to ask you to leave.” He says politely as possible, even if the Oncoming Storm was boiling underneath whenever Rose was in danger. The Zygon’s threatened Rose with a snarl, but seeing the storm underneath, they seemed to cooperate and back off. “This planet is defended remember, and I will stop you. Even if I’m not wearing this face, you will cooperate.” The brown-haired man issued as a threat just like he had when he’d first regenerated and lost his hand. With the matter of the Zygons settled, the duo of timelord and human returned to the TARDIS, Rose having ditched her high heels to be more comfortable. As they relaxed in the console room, Rose bit her lower lip. “You met those creatures before, but never told me. Why?” She questions filling the empty space of the room. The Doctor who had set them off for a random location wondering where they’d end up this time and looked at the human confused. “I’m sorry?” he blinked. Her expression repeated the question without her needing to ask a second time. This made the Doctor sigh and pinch the spot between his eyes on the bridge of his nose. “If you say wibbly wobbly timey wimey your down for a smack.” Rose teased interrupting as he seemed deep in thought. The Time Lords dual hearts hammered in his chest. What was she trying to get at? “Rose, I’ve had a lot of adventures before we met. You know that. I mean, you did meet Sarah Jane after all.” He reminds. “What were you going to tell me that day on the street? When you said you’d never forget me?”Rassilon damned she went there. This made him let out a long sigh. Shoving his hands in his pockets as he usually did when he was nervous to talk about something. “Does it really need saying, Rose?” His words filled the tense air, you could hear a pin drop if one listened close enough. The Time Lord let out a breath, shaking his head. “Rose….” he whispered. The girl in front of him meant so much to him. Hadn’t his actions told her how his hearts felt for her?

“Its just three little words. Why can’t you say them?”

“As I told you before, as a Time Lord I don’t age. I’ve seen so many people live and die. People I care about, people who mean the whole universe to me. But you, Rose Tyler are something special. You’ve saved me on more than one occasion. Shouldn’t actions speak louder than words?”

“But sometimes we want to hear them. We want to hear how one person feels about the other.” Rose argues. “You and Mickey do that? Tell each other how you feel?” He tossed back. Rose was growing irritated with him now. Why was the Doctor always this stubborn? Crossing her arms over her chest, she glared. “I’ve known Mickey when I was a kid. Or did you forget that when we went and saw Dad? I did love Mickey, and we tried dating but I kept seeing him as my brother, with you it’s different. It’s why I looked into the TARDIS that day when I saved your life. Or have you forgotten I did that too” She says, anger dying down to a soft whisper.

Hearing her explanation, the Doctor felt his hearts breaking. Of course he remembered her saving his life on that platform. Nearly burning out her brain to do it, causing him to regenerate from the previous face he had to this current one. “Come here,” he whispered and reached into his pocket. “I’ve been wanting to give this to you but never knew when to.” Rose looked at the box he was holding. A small velvet box inside was a heart-shaped necklace. The design held in the middle was that of a pink rose surrounded by gold. The Time Lord cleared his throat seeing her in awe of the jewelry he’d just given her. “Open it up.” He says gently. Inside was a picture of the two of them on their first Christmas together at Jackie’s.

“Got that from one Fanny Price,” he explained. “The-The necklace. The photo was from your Mum.” Rose hugged the taller man tightly. Pressing a kiss to his cheek. “Doctor I love it.” She exclaims, tears falling down her cheeks. On the other side, were three little words, engraved in silver so they could be seen against the gold. Rose waited, looking up at him with her hazel eyes, which looked green most times. Holding her breath, allowing him to say the three little words she’d been waiting to hear. “Rose Tyler, I love you”

#doctor who fanfic #rose x doctor #timepetals #anyfandomgoesbingo #bingocard

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soyeahitsmiddleearth · 4 years

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Dimension Jumping pt. 2

The Fellowship x Reader

Fluffy pants, creepy coworkers, and grocery lists. Fun times

Trigger warning: mentions of stalker.

After that kind of rocky introduction and confusing explanation of their quest and what they were doing exactly (also what happened to their wizard ‘Gandalf’) things began to work out better.

At first, they were in a kind of panic since they aren’t able to destroy that ring thing if they’re in your world, but then you reminded them that they can’t destroy it, and this Sauron guy can’t get it.

This seems to ease their worries a bit.

It was very easy for you to get along with the two blond 'hobbit’ cousins Merry and Pippin, and Samwise is a wonderful help in the kitchen. Mr. Legolas kinda just awkwardly stands around most of the time (he doesn’t sleep apparently), while the 'dwarf’, Gimli, likes to bother said 'elf’ which you find to be quite amusing. The two actual human dudes seem to be the more authoritative figures here, so they help to keep everyone in check and ensure they don’t break anything.

Penny has, quite literally, fallen in love with that brown-haired bastard Aragorn, and you’ve sworn that if he breaks her little fluffy heart you’re going to fucking murder him. Lucky for him, it seems he is quite fond of her in return since he sometimes sits idly on your couch with her laying across his lap. This asshole must have dog treats in his pocket or something because there’s no way she would ditch you for some scraggly handsome stranger like in the movies.

Of course, you don’t complain about it or anything, rather you just leave it and enjoy the fact that Penny is happy (while silently plotting his painful murder in your mind).

You also had to show them how to work the bathroom, and after they got over their initial shock and awestruck, they all bathed (thank god for your poor nose) and you offered to go get them more clothes later on so you can figure out how to wash theirs.

Overall, it seems that everything is going smoothly and will continue to do so.

You have yet to give them a chance to mess with your laptop or phone (or even the TV), but mostly because you’re afraid they’ll die of shock.

Before you know it a week has passed, and not only are they still in your damn home but they’re so freaking well-behaved and polite you actually find yourself not wanting them to go.

“Why do you wear those fluffy pants?” The sweet little Pippin asks.

Everyone insists he and his cousin are mischievous little monsters, but you find them to be nothing but adorable and polite. “Because, my dear boy, they are really freaking comfortable. I’m gonna go to the store later and get all of you a pair. They will change your lives."

His eyes grow wide at your overly dramatic description of fluffy pants and he suddenly seems excited, "Really? Some for all of us?"

You nod your head with a bright smile on your face, lifting your leg up for him to touch it. "Feel how nice they are!"

When Pippin places his hand on the soft, fuzzy fabric he looks surprised, "I don’t think I’ve felt trousers so soft before!"

"Fluffy pants, Pippin. They’re called fluffy pants."

"Fluffy pants.” He repeats in confirmation.

His cousin, Merry, chose then to walk into the room, and when he sees the two of you he looks confused. “Pip, what are you doing?"

"Oh! Merry, come here and feel these!” He exclaims, not bothering to answer his question.

Merry does as he says, albeit hesitantly, but when his hands touch that miracle fabric he looks just as shocked, “You’ve got such peculiar clothing… I like it."

"Well, I was just telling my buddy over here that I’m going to get everyone some and absolutely ruin your wardrobe since you’ll never want to wear anything but these ever again.” You tell him smugly, jumping to your feet suddenly, “Oh, I’ve gotta go do something. Keep an eye on Penny for me, won’t you?"

Yeah, they don’t need to since she’s busy sleeping on a napping Aragorn, but you ask nonetheless.

You retreat to another room and begin to organize the things you moved from your guest bedroom, wanting everything to be less cluttered while they stay here.

The air mattress had to come out and everything because of how many there are, but you don’t mind a little extra work for some companionship in response. Heaven knows you need someone to keep you out of your own head.

While you’re neatening things, the blond elf guy walks in and observes you for a few moments, saying nothing and kinda just standing there. You turn after a minute or so and look at him questioningly, "Is there something I can help you with?"

He doesn’t say anything right away, and so you grab a couple of books and straighten them while you wait.

"What are you doing?” He asks instead of answering you (a very Pippin move).

Despite your heart wanting you to be sarcastic in your reply you answer him seriously, “I’m cleaning up a bit since I had to take all of this stuff out of my guest room. It’s kinda messy if you couldn’t tell."

You wipe your hands on your fluffy pants and smile at him. "I’m almost done. Did you need me for something?"

He actually acknowledges your question this time with a shake of his head, "No. I wanted to see if you require any assistance."

Ah, that makes sense. He definitely seems like the helpful type.

"Oh, well some help would be nice. Maybe you could move those boxes,” you point to some cardboard boxes in the corner of the closet you shoved everything into, “over there.” You then point to a shelf that is mostly empty.

He nods again and goes to do just that right away, and you go back to sorting through a box full of papers.

“What made you allow us to stay?” He suddenly inquires, lifting the boxes you asked for help with easily.

You’re a bit surprised at his engagement in conversation and the topic he chose, but you answer despite that. “Well like I said before, I know a group of sad saps when I see it… I didn’t know you’d lost your friend, but I could tell something wasn’t right. And… I don’t know, your hobbits looked so hungry and tired, I couldn’t kick you all out and keep a clean conscience.” It’s true, but what you leave out is the desire you had for some company. Penny is more than enough, but recently you’ve been feeling lonely and inadequate, so you jumped on the opportunity to be useful in your monotone life.

“There’s something you’re not saying.” He says it like a statement rather than a question, and while he’s right you only shrug.

“My reasons are my own, but what I told you is my main explanation. Take it or leave it.” You don’t mean to act so cold and aloof, but the thinking about your flaws and recently depressive state only serves to dampen your mood.

“I meant not to offend, I apologize if upset you. I was only curious."

You smile at him over your shoulder apologetically yourself, "No, don’t say sorry. I’m just a bit cranky is all, haven’t been getting much sleep."

He can tell that’s not the truth, but he nods anyway and lets it drop.

Suddenly the sound of Penny barking reaches your ears, and you sigh knowing that someone is probably at the door.

When she abruptly stops, you pause and decide to finish with the last small stack you have before going out to check.

Big mistake.

Once you walk out of the storage closet, you’re met with the sight of two hiding hobbits, and Aragorn at the freaking door. Your eyes widen in horror, and you turn and close the door in Legolas’ face before he can exit.

When the door slams, someone pokes their head around the tall 'ranger’ and smiles.

"Oh, Y/N there you are!"

Uh oh, he’s not supposed to be there.

"B-Brian, hey, what… what are you doing here?” You ask slowly, walking over to try and diffuse whatever situation is going on here. “I didn’t even know you knew my address…"

He smiles brightly despite that and waves his hand, "Don’t worry about it, the boss gave it to me and told me to check up on you! You haven’t been answering your messages and this is the most work you’ve missed in the past, like, 4 years.” His tone is bright and cheery, but you can see behind that mask of pleasantries is nothing but a prying brat who has to know everything 24/7.

You ignore your dark thoughts and simply smile at him in return, “Yes, well I’ve been very busy. And, actually, I texted Marissa about my absence for the week ahead of time, so I don’t see why she would send you. She told me that I can work from home until I’m ready to come back.” You never liked Brian. Much too nosy and too much of a snake for your liking.

You pull your phone out of your pocket and see that you have… holy shit, 43 missed messages? All from Brian? Ew, okay, that’s weird.

But you decide not to comment on it.

“Right, well, who is this? I haven’t seen him before."

Shoot.

You look up at the brown-haired man sharply, then back at Brian. "W-Who, him? Oh, this is just my… boy…friend… Ara- Er, Aaron. He’s, uh, staying here because his house burned down.” God, you’re a horrible liar, but you try to keep your face straight either way. “Who he is doesn’t matter, I’m kinda busy right now so if you could just…"

You go to close the door, but he only steps a bit closer, "Wait-! I didn’t know you have a boyfriend!” His expression is more panic stricken now, and dare I say upset,

Ughhhhh fucking Brian .

Suddenly a voice pipes up from behind you, “Is there an issue over here?"

Oh great, another challenger has appeared, and his name is freaking Boromir.

"Wait, who is this then?” His countenance goes kinda sour, “Your other boyfriend?"

You face-palm and slowly drag your hand down your cheek, groaning internally at his horrible timing (also electing to ignore Brian’s bitter comment). "This is… Aaron’s druggie brother, Bo…Beau. He likes meth.”

Brian looks alarmed at your mention of him being a meth head, but you only smile and internally kick yourself for coming up with something like that . “You have crackheads staying at your house?! With how you’ve been recently?! S-Should I-"

You only shake your head once and slam your hand on the wall, "Brian, I am a big girl, and big girls don’t need their coworkers to keep them safe. I’ve been nice, but what I do is literally none of your fucking business, so leave me alone or I’ll call Marissa and tell her about,” you pause and lean forward, whispering with a faux sweet voice, “The janitors closet…"

His face goes pale at the mention of the horrid sight you’d walked into that one faithful Tuesday, and he nods his head in understanding, "R-Right, sorry to bother you! I’ll uh, get going now then. Enjoy your break!"

He’s gone before you even close the door.

You simply stare at the closed door for a few moments, trying to process what the hell just happened.

"Miss Y/N?” Merry calls from behind the couch. “What did he mean by 'how you’ve been’? Are you alright?"

Unable to keep your cool, you reach up and bury your fingers in your hair and groan loudly from frustration, "Ugh! Fucking Brian! Why did you have to open the door to that loser!?” You yell incredulously, pulling on your hair rather harshly. You don’t even entertain the idea of answering that question.

Aragorn seems surprised by your sudden angry outburst, so much so that he steps back and bumps against the wall.

“He’s always in my damn business! Acting like I haven’t caught him doing unmentionable things in that closet! Why him? Why did you think it was a good idea to open the door?!” You don’t mean to yell or to get so angry, but it’s almost like a splash of cold water in the face. A reminder that things are temporary and unexplainable to outsiders. “He’s such a stalker! God, this is going to come back and bite me in the ass!”

You drag your hands down your face and simply stand there for a moment, ignoring all the people gathering in your living room to stare at their mental brake-down having hostess.

“I apologize, I-I didn’t mean to-” Woah he actually trips over his words.

Before he can finish his apology you raise a hand up in a silencing motion. “No, shut up. Don’t apologize I’m not actually mad at you.” It sounds like you are, but you aren’t.

If you were looking at him, you’d see that he visibly relaxes.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to yell I just… he frustrates me. I’m not angry at any of you, I promise.” You drop your hands back to your side and stare at the door for a few moments before turning and walking back into the living room.

“You’re kind of scary,” Sam states from Frodo’s side at the entrance of the kitchen.

You look over at the two and furrow your eyebrows, “Scary? Me? No way. Just a little irritated.” If anything they’re the scary ones, with their swords and evil ring and all that.

You glance back at the dark-haired man still at the front door and bite your lip, “I’m really sorry."

A small and forgiving smile creeps onto his face, and you feel relieved right away. "Perhaps I shouldn’t have opened the door."

This earns a small laugh and nod from you, "Now that freak thinks you’re my homeless male friend and he’s your drugged up brother. Not a very good reputation.” You don’t bother going over calling him your boyfriend in a panic - if they even know what it means in the first place.

Suddenly ever innocent Pippin asks, “What’s meth?"

Lord save your soul.

—

After explaining to everyone what meth is and how you straight up just called Boromir a doped up loser to someone none of them know, you all have a good laugh. And once you’re all done laughing, you join Sam in the kitchen and notice that he’s taken an inventory of your kitchen.

"Hello, chef Ramsay. What can I do for you?” You ask with a cheery smile, watching him go through your cupboard while literally standing on the counter with Frodo watching from the floor.

“Who is chef Ramsay?” Sam asks, looking down at you from his leveraged spot on the counter.

Oh, right, the poor soul doesn’t know the meme.

“Nobody, what are you up to?” You change the subject quickly, a part of you hoping he approves of your kitchen.

“Well… your shelves are lacking a lot. And your… what did you call it, fridge? It is basically empty. What do you eat all week?"

You don’t reply right away, staring holes into him at his obviously spotty memory. "Well, Sam the thing is, I am one woman, and this one woman didn’t think she’d need to buy groceries for 8 men who all eat like they haven’t seen food for the past week… every meal."

"So then perhaps we should go shopping!” He exclaims, closing the cabinet and hopping back down to the tiled floor.

Excuse me, did he just say 'we’? Uh, yeah no.

You shake your head quickly, “No, Sam there aren’t people like you in my world. I can’t take you."

His face falls and he looks around at the kitchen, crestfallen, "But I can’t tell you what to get if I don’t go…"

Aw… he looks so sad. It makes your heart pang uncomfortably, and you find that you wanna make him smile again. "Here, I’ll tell you what. I’ll get some paper and a pen, and you can write down everything you want me to get on that. How does that sound?”

Almost immediately he perks up and nods his head, “Oh, that sounds wonderful!"

Bingo.

"Did you hear that Mr. Frodo? She said she’ll get whatever we want! Come help me make the list!” Okay, maybe this wasn’t a good idea.

You gather the things you promised from a drawer to your right, then hand them down to him. “Here you are, dear. Take your time, and I’ll go tomorrow. And don’t forget to ask everyone else what they want.”

Hopefully, you won’t live to regret this.

Without further ado, he rushes out of the kitchen calling for Merry and Pippin.

These fellas are going to bankrupt you… but if you get to see those happy smiles again, then it’s definitely worth it.

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kindred-is-obsessed · 5 years

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Reasons you should be watching Craig of the Creek

Not enough people are watching this wonderful show, so I thought I’d do my best to introduce people to it. It’s made by former Steven Universe crew Ben Levin and Matt Burnett, so if you’re missing Steven Universe while it’s on hiatus this is a great way to keep away the hiatus blues, or if you just enjoy in cartoons. It’s great for a whole list of reasons, which broadly fall into the two categories of great representation and great storytelling:

Canonical queer representation

- The witches premiere in the episode The Curse. If you aren’t sure if you want to watch this whole show definitely watch this one at least! It’s my absolute favourite not least of all because it’s about teen goth girls in love. It has a sequel The Last Kid in The Creek which is also wonderful, and the witches cameo throughout the series. I don’t want to spoil too much but The Curse is essentially about the two not wanting to be separated and struggling to admit their feelings for each other. (Spoilers: they do and walk off alone, blushing, staring at each other lovingly, while the kids aww at them)

- Bernard and his girlfriend watch a cooking show hosted by a gay couple.

- Other cameos, hints and coded queer kids such as JP’s sister (who has fancy dinner reservations with Kat, a woman with a shaved head who compliments Kelsey’s fake sword). There’s also Raj and Shaun (two very close friends), as well as several very boyish tomboys, including Handlebarb and Turner.

- All public bathrooms I’ve spotted in the show have gender neutral signs on them which is nice.

POC representation

- Craig, the main character, is black and has a loving family explored in depth, including an activist grandmother working for the council, a wise and fun grandfather, a supportive fun dad who loves his amazing wife, an adorable assertive little sister, and an angsty overachieving older brother who just wants to be a good grownup who loves his family and girlfriend.

- There are MANY characters of colour. There are black and brown characters, Raj is Indian, Stacks is Hispanic (and it’s implied she is an immigrant), there are several Asian characters, Kelsey is Hungarian and Jewish, a persistent background character wears a hijab (I’m pretty sure she was named at some point but I can’t find her name anywhere. She definitely has lines at one point). I’m sure there are others I have missed. No one is a stereotype as far as I am aware.

Subtle neurodivergent representation

- JP is possibly on the autism spectrum. I’d love neurodivergent people’s opinions on this, but while the representation isn’t canonical or obvious I think it’s good that while JP is represented as having different thought processes from his friends, he isn’t made fun of for it, at least not by them. It’s noteworthy I think that he’s the eldest of the core trio, probably because he finds it easier to relate to younger people who still share his imagination and care less about his unique way of thinking. His neurodivergence is explored most explicitly in the episode Jextra Perrestrial, so if you’re interested in this kind of representation definitely check that episode out.

Non-nuclear family representation

- While the main character is a member of the typical nuclear family you see on TV (except black, and actually interesting) most of the other families we see are not.

- JP is raised by his mother and older sister. His father is never mentioned and their house is definitely in worse condition than the others we see. His family works hard to take care of each other. His sister is a nurse and both her and her mother are away a lot of the time, but they both love JP very much. JP’s sister also happens to be really openly body positive. I love them a lot.

- Kelsey’s father is an only parent. There’s still a lot of mystery surrounding how Kelsey’s mother passed away. It’s a very subtle but important part of Kelsey’s character and comes through in really bittersweet adorable ways (not limited to Kelsey using her “half-orphan”ness to guilt trip a man into giving her money)

- Other kinds of families are scattered throughout the show, including families that move around a lot, a home-school kid with a strict mother, and more.

Unique approach to fantasy and sci-fi

- You know how most kids show will take a kid’s fantasy and bring it to reality? Well Craig of the Creek keeps the fantastical and nostalgic element of that line of thinking but never confirms or denies whether the kids fantasies are real or in their heads. And not in a Scooby Doo way where the fantastical elements are explained away, but are hinted as a possibility right at the very end. Instead, two perspectives (the fantastical perspective and the realistic perspective) are woven into every episode.

- This means there are two ways to interpret every episode. You can view the witches as real witches, or as goth teenagers. You can view Helen as a kid from another dimension, or a home-school kid who is never at the creek at the same time as the other kids. You can view Deltron as a cyborg from the future, or as an imaginative kid from a big city.

- This is super unique and fun to watch. They come up with so many new ideas and its always fun to figure out what’s actually happening, while still getting to relive childhood fantastical nostalgia.

- Almost all of these episodes use this to talk about an issue, but these issues can get quite complex and are definitely not shoved down your throat.

Overarching mystery plot about a colonialist kingdom / cult

- Love the slow burn storytelling of Steven Universe’s Diamond Authority? Love putting together the mysteries of Gravity Falls? Then you’ll love this plot about colonialism, classism, bullying, peer pressure and more and its mysterious build up including cryptic graffiti art and flower symbolism.

- Even before this arc properly begins, Craig of The Creek primarily centers around the microcosm of the Creek. Many of the episodes have a lot of commentary on society, politics and how different factions of people form and interact.

- The show is over 50 episodes in and this arc is only just starting to kick off so now is the time to catch up and watch.

- Fun complex villain(s)

Complex relatable characters

- Want commentary and nostalgia about horse girls, children’s tea parties, weird kids, angsty teens, young weebs, dweebs and more!? Every childhood obsession is represented in this show.

- Adults! All the parents and older teens in this show are just as rich and complex as the kids. They are all so interesting and fun.

- Want characters with arcs, aims, fun relationships and complexity!? Look no further! Redemption arcs! Revelations! Found family! It’s all here!

Great art and soundtrack

- Cute background and character designs that make you nostalgic as hell and are also beautiful and well thought out.

- Sometimes the art design is changed up for a particular episode to portray a certain fantastical / sci fi element. It’s very fun and engaging.

- An opening song that’s fun to sing along to, bittersweet ending song that makes me want to cry, a couple of musical episodes including a super fun rap musical episode, and a great OST

Queer headcanons

- There are tons of ways to interpret the show but here’s some of my head canons just to get an idea.

- (Note that despite my headcanons I use the pronouns for the kids that they use in the show cause I’m not certain about any of it and they’re kids who haven’t come out yet and also for clarity and consistency’s sake – I’m not saying trans people are not their genders. Don’t worry I’m nonbinary)

- I headcanon that all the main trio grow up to realise they are queer. They strike me as that weird group of friends that doesn’t fit in with the other kids and aren’t quite sure how they all came to be friends, only to later realise they all showed early signs of breaking gender roles and that’s why they stuck together.

- Craig definitely grows up to realise he’s gay, bisexual or queer. His admiration for characters like Deltron and Green Poncho are definitely crushes that he mistakes for a strong sudden and eager desire for friendship.

- Kelsey probably grows up to realise she is nonbinary, a trans boy or a WLW. I mostly headcanon this because I relate to her a lot and I’m nonbinary and queer so I said so. She reminds me a lot of myself as a kid. She throws herself into books, mostly fantasy for escapism. She fantasises and writes a lot for the same reasons. She dresses like a tomboy (She always wears her hair up in the same bun which strongly reminds me of my own childhood hair dysphoria) and she hangs out solely with male friends.

- JP gives me strong trans lesbian vibes, or to a lesser extent nonbinary vibes. (I know his sister is WLW coded but take it from me there can be more than one queer in a family). He is interested in girls, specifically Maney the horse girl (he even joined the horse girls for one episode). He wears a long V-neck shirt that is essentially a dress ALL the time. He’s aware that he’s different and while self conscious sometimes, mostly just wants to express himself the way he wants to. He also chooses to go by initials JP over his very gendered name Johnathan Paul (In a recent episode he names a ship after himself, calling it “The SS Johnathon Paulina”).

- (Sidenote if you do start watching this show and I see any nasty shipping of these characters in non puppy-love fashion so help me god)

Other reasons

- The show is at times very intertextual and references Princess Mononoke, Super Smash Brothers, Sailor Moon, Lord of the Rings, and a billion other things. It also has some fun cameos, including background images of the Tres Horny Boys from The Adventure Zone, a TARDIS from Doctor Who, and a Cookie Cat from Steven Universe.

- Honestly, this post hasn’t done the best job explaining why I love this show so much. You honestly just have to watch an episode to understand fully what I’m talking about, so give it a go! Watch The Curse at least, it only goes for 10 minutes.

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beutifulbliss · 3 years

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I’ve been thinking and thinking. One thing that has helped me through lockdowns amidst ovulating and being an emotional wreck has been leaning into my my sense of self and sexuality. I have had soooooooo much time to myself and learnt so much about myself. On one hand I’m standing on scales a everyday, walking lots and intermittent fasting because I overdid it initially with the baking and Instagram chef inspo and on the other hand I’m spending lots of time seeing the fullness of my being. I have two mirrors and I can see myself from different angles. I spend many evenings dancing to my favourites songs and watching how my body moves - sometimes fluidly and other times not so fluidly (the knees are shaking 🤣) It’s really been a pleasure to watch my appreciation of myself grow in this way. I can be two things at once - someone that wants to be leaner and healthier (sugar is the devil) and a bad bish who loves herself (fupa) included.

Victoria Monet has been the perfect backdrop to this development of self - I call her music muted WAP. I’m not about that Cardi B and Meg Stallion life in all honesty - they are a bit much for me and their messaging doesn’t always work for me. Love to see it - both of them give me life and their energy works in certain scenarios. However my everyday expression of self and sexuality is much more muted WAP - from Jaguar to Dive to Ass like that to anything Victoria puts out. Literal perfection. R&B stan 🙋🏾‍♀️

This leads me to the question I’ve been thinking about. I’ve come to a place where I understand, can own and express my sexuality without sex or sexual acts. There’s more to this that I might share one day. Back to what I was thinking - how do men express their sexuality without sex or sexual acts? I tried to think of potential routes but quickly came to a dead end. As a woman I have lots of ways - they aren’t always an expression of sexuality but absolutely can be. Fresh out of shower moisturising (shea butter baby) my body and spraying my favourite perfume, dancing and watching my body move, putting on my favourite dress and heels with a soft glam beat (lockdown let us out) knowing I look damn good, being honest with myself about my sexual desires - now all of this doesn’t have to happen with a male gaze present and I think this is what makes it empowering. I happily do all of these things for myself for solo time or time with my friends (cue the expensive restaurants 🤣).

Is this a thing for men? Is there an equivalent thing for men? What does it look like? Perhaps this isn’t a thing - neither in modern western or traditional western culture? Is is because of biology? Is it because of social constructs? Men don’t focus on being or feeling attractive? Men get gratification from their ego, power dynamics and money? Men are repressing their sexuality? Is sexuality a social construct created for women?

I’d love to see black men discuss this - how do black men express their sexuality without sexual or sexual acts and the involvement of women. This is a CIS binary perspective - I can’t speak on what I don’t know.

When I have questions I go to God or google. I went to google on this one. This was an interesting thread - https://www.reddit.com/r/MensLib/comments/7wkebm/how_do_men_express_their_sexuality/?utm_source=amp&utm_medium=&utm_content=post_body

I speak of sexuality not in the sense of orientation or preferences.

‘…a central aspect of being human throughout life encompasses sex, gender identities and roles, sexual orientation, eroticism, pleasure, intimacy and reproduction. Sexuality is experienced and expressed in thoughts, fantasies, desires, beliefs, attitudes, values, behaviours, practices, roles and relationships. While sexuality can include all of these dimensions, not all of them are always experienced or expressed. Sexuality is influenced by the interaction of biological, psychological, social, economic, political, cultural, legal, historical, religious and spiritual factors.’

Thisdefinition is quite complicated - my simple understanding is appreciation of oneself as a sexual being - your perception of yourself as a sexual being and how you feel about your sexual expression.

It’s been sad to see people apparently holding Chloe Bailey (older twin from ChloexHalle) to some ridiculous expectation that she can only express herself in a certain way otherwise she’s doing too much. Thankfully I don’t have people on my timelines or curated social media spaces berating her or calling her out of her name but she obviously has had to deal with this as she released a video explaining herself with some tears. Sad! I’m digressing but freedom to express ones self as you move from child to teen to adult (especially as the girl child) is key to so many things. I think the people that are hyper critical perhaps don’t have a healthy perception of themselves and their own sexuality.

This is a tricky subject for me as a Christian but as I grow I unlearn so many things that are more about society controlling people as opposed to what my faith is and how it is linked to understanding who I am. The bible says what God created was good moreso I am perfectly and wonderfully made. All parts of me. The world contaminates things but.......I am coming to appreciate all parts of me.

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cebinaruavin · 4 years

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Truce

((Story co-written with @thefugitivemango / @lordbeyron. @pariker / @inathia / @phoenixguard for mention.))

~*~*~

Cebina waited in the foyer as Bey’ron finished his bath. She took her time to stroll around the room, picking out her favorite wine and helping herself to a glass. She sat herself down comfortably in one of the large lounge chairs, sitting back and crossing her legs.

She’d always enjoyed her time spent in the manor, as short as that time was. Bey’ron had good taste in lavish decor, always ready to entertain guests. She sometimes wondered if he expected Lor’themar himself to show up at his doorstep. Even the room he’d given her to stay in had been one of the fanciest she’d ever had. A shame that didn’t last. They’d worked well together, the two of them, before her switch to the void and exile.

Water under the bridge now, as it were. The war between Alliance and Horde was over now. While Cebina’s presence still wasn’t welcomed in Quel’Thalas, travelling there was no longer as big of a risk; as long as she suppressed her Void powers and kept out of sight, of course.

She swirled the wine in her glass and sniffed the bouquet before taking a sip. Yes. She’d certainly missed this.

Her presence wasn’t lost on Bey’ron; nothing happened in his manor that he didn’t know about. Eyes everywhere… but he figured Cebina knew that as well. He cut his bath short as he sensed her presence once more in his house. While he didn’t feel in danger of anything she might do, his trust in her certainly took a dive following her last big revelation. He dried and dressed himself casually, paced calmly as he always did, before stepping into the room.

“Pour one for me too, hmm?” he instructed, nonchalantly.

Cebina smiled from her spot on the chair moving her hair over her shoulder to show off more of her chest. A natural reaction for her, even though she knew it had no effect on Bey’ron. She pointed towards the counter, where a second full glass of wine sat waiting for him.

“Way ahead of you, Sweetie,” she hummed, “How have you been, Bey Bey?”

“Mm… considering my home’s been invaded,” he narrowed his eyes at Cebina, “not terrible.”

He scooped his glass from the counter, swirling it gently as he approached the Ren’dorei intruder, uncertain at what brought her here. To gloat more, perhaps? He didn’t think she would have come here to kill him… but then the void did alter one’s mind, didn’t it? How far had her dark studies taken her…?

“Why are you here, Cebina?” he asked, bluntly, tone indicative he wasn’t interested in going through the usual foreplay. “Haven’t you caused me enough of a headache already?”

Cebina raised a brow as he skipped over the pleasantries. That wasn’t like him at all! Had the Knight Lord’s absence affected him that much? Had he actually cared about her?

“Oh, Bey Bey, you know me. I only specialize in making people feel -good-. You won’t find any trouble coming from me. Unless... that’s what you’re looking for.”

She tipped her head back, taking a long sip of the wine from her glass.

“But, if you insist on getting straight to business, so be it. As you know, the war between Alliance and Horde has come to an end. While I’m aware my people are still shunned for our superiority, at least my presence here is no longer considered an act of war. With the armistice signed between the Alliance and Horde, I was hoping you and I could work out something similar. Past mishaps now water under the bridge, as it were, hmm?”

She took another sip, allowing Bey’ron some time to digest the information.

Bey’ron rolled his eyes. It felt good not to have to try and hide the expression, as he normally had to do in the Council chambers when some pompous nobleman spouted similar nonsense. “Superiority,” indeed. He scoffed, accenting the eye rolling to better convey how unimpressed he was by Cebina’s notion.

“You want back in, is that it? Tired of the humans already?” he smirked, throwing a light jab of his own. “If your kind are so superior, surely you wouldn’t feel a need to reestablish any manner of connections here. Armistice or not.”

He knew well why she’d returned now, of all times. The Armistice might have been a part of it, but Bey’ron had long suspected that Cebina had ties to the Twilight’s Hammer cult. A cult without any more Gods to cling to, as of late. No, he knew Cebina was only here playing nice because she’d lost a large chunk of support. A loss she hoped to make up for here.

“You’re after the arrangement I offered when I first dismissed you and your ‘superiority’, Cebina. And instead of keeping things pleasant between us, you opted instead to lash out.” he scolded her, still swirling his glass of wine. “What changed? Why are you suddenly so interested in rekindling our friendship, hmm?”

Cebina giggled, waving a hand in a dismissal of his words.

“Sweetie, please! Did you go soft while I was away? We were never friends, and you know it. Work partners, yes. Allies, yes. But don’t go pretending it was anything more than that.”

Her void filled gaze met his as she leaned forward in her chair.

“You know as well as I do that knowledge is power. And even the more superior of us need allies, especially in times of peace. Don’t you agree?”

His ear flickered; she was right. They were never really friends… so why did he phrase it in such a manner? Had loneliness tugged him off course of his goals? Had losing Ina’thia made him soft? His frown turned to a scowl at Cebina. Seeing her again had brought out many reminders of the past… including his dedication to his ambitions.

“Hmph. You’re splitting hairs. ‘Friendship’, as a generalized term of working well one with another. As in… not sabotaging one another’s projects.” Bey’ron snapped, fel flames in his eyes burning a little more intensely. “You’re reaching out for a hand you bit, Cebina. And you bit it hard. I had plans for the Phoenix Guard, and you crippled it. Killed it! Did you think I’d be so quick to forgive your childish maneuvers? Perhaps I have been too soft, letting a treacherous Old God underling like you breathe another breath of my Eversong air!”

He tossed his undrunk glass aside, letting it shatter in the corner. Portals began to open up all around the two elves, pouring chittering laughter and aggressive growls into the chamber from whatever dark dimensions lay beyond them. Demonic eyes peered in from the room, all fixated on Cebina. But nothing emerged… yet.

“Give me one good reason, Little Bird, why I should take you back.”

Cebina remained unfazed at Bey’ron’s show of force, her eyes glimmering with pride as they continued to burn into his. Her smile widened.

“Because,” she stated simply, “You need someone to keep you on your toes.” She got up from the chair, letting her form fitting skirt brush the floor as she paced slowly.

“You’ve gone soft, Bey Bey. What I did was nothing compared to what your dear Knight Lord put you through, I’m sure. You let your guard down with her, didn’t you? Made yourself vulnerable. Now look at you, sulking in your manner and trying to pick up the pieces of what she left behind. Look at who you’ve surrounded yourself with. All soft.”

She stopped pacing a few feet in front of him, knowing well not to get too close to the Magister.

“Face it, Sweetie. You need me a lot more than I need you right now. You know it. And that is why you’re throwing this little temper tantrum, isn’t it?”

Bey’ron’s scowl turned to a smirk. He chuckled at Cebina, folding his arms behind his back as he did. The portals held position, though the snarling from within softened… yet the chittering laughter grew a bit more as if to join their master.

“Oh, I need you, is that it? That’s why you came here, then? You sensed how much I needed you? So you snuck in, seeking to restore our amicable arrangement? How kind of you, Little Bird.” he laughed on, tone clearly mocking. “You may be right; I’ve relaxed quite a bit, following your little stunt, and Ina’thia’s departure. You’ve done well in reminding me of that, tonight. But frankly… I can think of no other use I’d have for you. You think too highly of yourself if you presume you’re the only one who can, as you put it, ‘keep me on my toes’, hmm?”

A worthy attempt, he had to admit. But his wit hadn’t dulled quite that much since last they spoke. Cebina wouldn’t have come here just to rekindle a relationship unless she had something specific to gain in doing so. She’d caught him in an emotional state-- which was to say, she caught him actually feeling emotions. But that alone wasn’t her purpose in coming to him now. It seemed they ended up dancing around the heart of the matter, after all.

“Let’s try this again, shall we?” he straightened, brow askew. “Why are you here, Cebina?”

“Hmm, much better,” Cebina grinned, “There’s the Bey-Bey I know! Don’t worry, I have no intentions of returning to Silvermoon or messing with whatever you’ve got going on with your little friends.”

She sauntered back to her chair, taking a sip and getting comfortable once more, pulling the skirt of her robes up to expose her thighs as she crossed her legs.

“I need a contact to keep me up to date on the going ons of Horde politics, as it were. In return, I’ll be certain to forward any information I come across from the Alliance side. I’ve gotten quite close with some of the higher up politicians in Stormwind. In short, you have your goals and I have mine. As long as those goals don’t go against each other, there’s no reason we can’t go back to being respectful associates.”

“Mm, that depends entirely on what your goals actually are, doesn’t it?”

The Magister returned to the counter, and retrieved another glass since his last one broke. He didn’t bother glancing over to where he’d thrown it; it was already cleaned up anyway, the work of some Imp while no one was looking. He filled his new glass with wine, before turning back to his guest.

“It also depends on what manner of information you can provide. I’ve already arranged a few eyes and ears among your Alliance’s political players, and they’ve done well in feeding me useful little tidbits.” he explained as he, too, finally took a seat in a chair adjacent to Cebina’s. “I suppose you think you could do better, though? Provide me with more exclusive information?”

He grinned at the Ren’dorei.

“Let’s hear a sampling, hmm?”

“Oh, darling… you have NO idea.”

Cebina moved her hand, opening it palm up as a small void tear opened up just above it, depositing a scroll into her hand. She’d worked with Bey’ron long enough to know he wouldn’t take her at her word. He was MUCH smarter than that; one of the things she rather liked about him. Of course he would demand proof that she could procure information more valuable than his own men could gather.

She held the parchment out for him to levitate over.

“I’ll let you read for yourself. Human men are simple creatures, and SO predictable, especially when it comes down to interacting with exotic women,” she grinned, tilting her head up proudly, not a hint of shame of how she used her body, “I think you’ll enjoy these little tidbits, especially certain secret outings the King has been making.”

The Magister couldn’t hide the intrigue on his face, as he read the scroll over. It was a mixed bag, certainly, with some bits of information much more useful and actionable than others. For now, anyway; Bey’ron learned long ago that sometimes the most innocuous details can bridge gaps in some of the darkest secrets. These outings of the Alliance’s Boy-King that Cebina alluded to, for example… they meant nothing for the moment. Just a piece of a puzzle Bey’ron could use later, when he found where it fit.

But he wasn’t going to tell her that.

“... Hmph. I suppose these have some merit.” he commented; such words meager approval from some, but high praise when coming from his lips. “If I did, perhaps, have use for information you’re willing to bring, what exactly would you wish in return? Bearing in mind, I am not as prone to betraying my kingdom as--”

He paused, gaze tracing over Cebina in silent judgment. A less-than subtle jab. He allowed the parchment to roll up once more, curling by virtue of having been rolled up before. He held it upright as a small portal opened above it-- and a tiny pair of imp hands reached down to snatch it away absconding with the paper to Sun-only-knows where.

“... Others.” he concluded his thought, smirking.

“Of course, of course,” she waved a hand, not seeming the least bit insulted by what Bey’ron insinuated.

Cebina had always joined causes out of convenience. She’d joined a number of houses and organizations during their rise, only to move on to another as she sensed they were about to fall. Her entire life had been about taking what she needed to further her own goals. Now wasn’t any different. She knew it. Bey’ron knew it. There was no point in pretending she ever cared for Quel’Thalas.

“Ever the loyalist, I remember. I would never ask you to betray your kingdom, Bey-Bey. I have no interest in playing with Sin’dorei affairs. However, a man of your elite stature certainly has spies dispatched throughout the other factions of the Horde, hmm? All I’m asking in return is that you share that intelligence with me.”

Bey’ron contemplated for a moment, eyeing Cebina over scrutinously. He was torn; at what point did benefiting the Void Elf become endangering the High Kingdom? It was easy to work with her before, when their goals coincided often. But he couldn’t imagine an instance where they would, now. The value of even small details cut both ways. What could he tell her that wouldn’t potentially come back detrimentally to Quel’Thalas? The secrets she was willing to share were, indeed, valuable to him. But at such a cost…?

No, the payoff was far greater than just a few meaningless details shared between the two. A truce was at stake-- a partnership with Cebina made her an ally once more, rather than the spiteful enemy she’d proven to be otherwise. It was a dangerous gambit, indeed. But he knew it was more beneficial to bring her to heel with a few tasty morsels of information than to let her run wild and lash out.

“Mm. So be it.” he nodded, with a smirk. “We’ve worked well together in the past. If you’re ready to do so again, it would be in poor form for me to deny you the pleasure.”

He raised his glass to Cebina; a toast to seal the deal, and rekindle their partnership. It felt like the right move; after all, you keep your friends close.

And your enemies closer.

~*~*~

#Character Story #bey'ron everblaze #Cebina Ruavin

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thefeministherald · 3 years

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In France’s Delayed #MeToo, Powerful Men Fall, One After Another - The New York Times

Is there actually hope for France? Though young French women told their stories online the country has resisted change since #metoo went global in 2017. Now they are looking to finally take sexual harassment and sexual assault seriously.

Article follows:

PARIS — When Sandra Muller started France’s #MeToo social media campaign in 2017, tens of thousands of women responded to her calls to “#ExposeYourPig.”

But the backlash was overwhelming. Some of the most prominent women in the country, led by Catherine Deneuve, denounced the movement in a letter that came to define France’s initial response to #MeToo. In 2019, Ms. Muller lost a defamation case against a former television executive she had exposed on Twitter, with France appearing immune to the larger global forces challenging the dominance of men.

Last week, Ms. Muller won her appeal. Though there were no new facts, a significant ruling by the appeals court underscored how things have changed in the past two years.

“Before the ruling, I thought there were stirrings,” Ms. Muller said in a phone interview from New York, where she now lives. “Now, I have the impression that there’s been a leap forward.”

Since the beginning of the year, a series of powerful men from some of France’s most prominent fields — politics, sports, the news media, academia and the arts — have faced direct and public accusations of sexual abuse in a reversal from mostly years of silence. At the same time, confronted with these high-profile cases and a shift in public opinion, French lawmakers are hurrying to set 15 as the age of sexual consent — only three years after rejecting such a law.

The recent accusations have not only led to official investigations, the loss of positions for some men and outright banishment from public life for others. They have also resulted in a rethinking of French masculinity and of the archetype of Frenchmen as irresistible seducers — as part of a broader questioning of many aspects of French society and amid a conservative backlash against ideas on gender, race and postcolonialism supposedly imported from American universities.

“Things are moving so fast that sometimes my head spins,” said Caroline De Haas, a feminist activist who in 2018 founded #NousToutes, a group against sexual violence. She described herself as “super optimistic.”

Ms. Haas said that France was going through a delayed reaction to #MeToo after a “maturation” period during which many French began to understand the social dimensions behind sexual violence and the concept of consent.

That was especially so, Ms. Haas said, after the testimony in the past year of Adèle Haenel, the first high-profile actress to speak out over abuse, and of Vanessa Springora, whose memoir, “Consent,” documented her abuse by the pedophile writer Gabriel Matzneff.

“The start of 2021 has been a sort of aftershock,” Ms. Haas said. “What’s very clear is that, today in France, we don’t at all have the same reaction that we did four, five years ago to testimonies of sexual violence against well-known people.”

Last month, Pierre Ménès, one of France’s most famous television sports journalists, was suspended indefinitely by his employer after the release of a documentary that exposed sexism in sports journalism, “I’m Not a Slut, I’m a Journalist.”

Just a few years ago, few criticized him for behavior that they now don’t dare defend in public, including forcibly kissing women on the mouth on television and, in front of a studio audience in 2016, lifting the skirt of a female journalist — Marie Portolano, the producer of the documentary.

“The world’s changed, it’s #MeToo, you can’t do anything anymore, you can’t say anything anymore,” Mr. Ménès said in a television interview after the documentary’s release. He said he didn’t remember the skirt incident, adding that he hadn’t been feeling like himself at the time because of a physical illness.

The list of other prominent men is long and getting longer. There is Patrick Poivre d’Arvor, France’s most famous news anchor, who is being investigated on allegations of raping a young woman and who defended himself on television by saying that he belonged to a generation for whom “seduction was important” and included “kisses on the neck.” He has denied the rape accusations.

There is Georges Tron, a former government minister, who was cleared in 2018 of raping an employee but was condemned in February to five years in prison in an appeals court ruling that, according to Le Monde, reflected the fact that society’s “understanding of consent has unquestionably changed.”

There is Gérard Depardieu, France’s biggest film star, and Gérald Darmanin, the powerful interior minister, also under investigation in rape cases that were reopened last year. Both have said they are innocent.

Olivier Duhamel, a prominent intellectual, and Richard Berry, a famous actor, have both been recently placed under investigation after accusations of incest by family members. Mr. Berry has denied the accusations; Mr. Duhamel has not commented on the charges against him.

Claude Lévêque, the internationally known artist, is under investigation on suspicion of rape of minors and was publicly accused for the first time in January by a former victim. He has denied the accusations.

Dominique Boutonnat, a movie producer whom President Emmanuel Macron named president of the National Center for Cinema last year, was placed under investigation in February on allegation of attempted rape and sexual assault of his godson and has said he is innocent.

“This recent wave in France, it’s a delayed reaction to the Matzneff affair,” Francis Szpiner, the lawyer representing Ms. Muller, said, adding that the downfall of the pedophile writer and of Mr. Duhamel made people realize that powerful men in France were not “untouchable.”

In 2017, in the immediate aftermath of the #MeToo disclosures involving the Hollywood mogul Harvey Weinstein, Ms. Muller, a journalist, began #ExposeYourPig — #BalanceTonPorc in French — in France. In a Twitter post, she recounted how during a television festival in Cannes, an executive told her, “You have big breasts. You are my type of woman. I will make you orgasm all night.”

The executive, Eric Brion, did not deny making such comments. But because the two did not work together, Mr. Brion argued the comments did not amount to sexual harassment and sued Ms. Muller for defamation. A ruling in 2019 that ordered Ms. Muller to pay 15,000 euros in damages, around $17,650, was overturned last week.

In 2019, the court said that Ms. Muller had “surpassed the acceptable limits of freedom of expression, as her comments descended into a personal attack.” This time, the judges found that Ms. Muller had acted in good faith, adding that the “#balancetonporc and #MeToo movements had drawn a lot of attention, had been hailed by diverse officials and personalities and had positively contributed to letting women speak freely.”

Camille Froidevaux-Metterie, a leading feminist philosopher, said that it was significant that the men now under investigation were leaders in a diversity of fields. Revelations surrounding them have undermined the myths of Frenchmen as great seducers and of a refined romantic culture where “we, French, in our interplay of seduction, know how to interpret nonverbal signs and we have this art of seduction, a gentle commerce between the sexes,” she said.

“These are men who all embody, in some ways, the old patriarchal order of things — of men of power and men who have used and abused their power to sexually exploit the bodies of others, whether they be women or young men,” Ms. Froidevaux-Metterie said, adding, “Perhaps we are experiencing the first real shock to that system.”

#feminism #feminist #metoo #france

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edwad · 4 years

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What are your least favourite Marx books? Which ones are the worst?

this is sorta tricky because i guess you’d have to define “books” since

many of his most famous writings are tiny pamphlets or speeches which were then published as articles or pamphlets and might not properly be considered “books”, especially since some of them were only published posthumously as texts once transcripts were found for speeches. value price and profit would be the go-to example for this.

a lot of the “books” we now have are really just editorial collages of manuscripts that were not written in the format of a “book” and were in many cases not even intended to be published. so when we try to measure their worth in how Good they are or not, sometimes the “book” we’re talking about doesn’t really exist or is constructed/“finished” (often poorly) from the raw manuscript(s). great example would be the economic manuscripts of 1864-5 which were then turned into volume 3 of capital, but the debate around the nature of engels’ job as editor means that the “book” capital volume 3 is considered by many to be inferior to the unadulterated manuscripts, if not an outright distortion of them.

but if we can sorta treat all the published texts as “books” (excluding like, individual articles unless they are noteworthy enough to single out. if they’ve been published as a pamphlet and are considered Important Texts i’ll consider them here) and ignore the fact that marx was an extremely prolific writer (meaning that there’s a lot that i haven’t read), id largely come down on the younger marx.

i think pieces like the communist manifesto, paris manuscripts, wage labor and capital, etc are relatively intellectually immature compared to his later works. a lot of what’s in them had to be corrected or outright abandoned by the 1860s. there’s also the problem where the paris manuscripts suffer from the 2nd problem listed above where they are mishmashed together in such a way that they appear inconsistent and where the actual process of inquiry gets lost in the rearranging of pieces of text. for example, the piece we read at the beginning as the “preface”, but which was actually from the third manuscript and was pulled to the front by editors, shows an attempt by editors to “finish” what marx apparently would’ve done himself, despite the fact that the manuscripts were from marxs personal notebooks and for his own development/clarification as he studied, not manuscripts for a “book”. this seemingly minor change reflects the overall editorial attitude to the publication of the manuscripts. a more apparent alteration is in the last “manuscript” regarding the critique of hegelian philosophy, which was never written by marx. it is an “essay” compiled from paragraphs and stray remarks throughout the paris notebooks, put together in a semi-coherent order so that it could stand as a single text (the same thing happened with the first “chapter” of “the german ideology”). when editors are this bold, it is hard to distinguish the good/bad of marxs work from the heavy hands of editors.

the same is true of wage labor and capital, which was republished by engels after marxs death with numerous “corrections”, especially around the category of “labor-power” which marx developed in the late 1850s, about a decade after WLC was written. the result is that engels decided to publish “not as Marx wrote it in 1849, but approximately as Marx would have written it in 1891,” which ignores the fact that merely changing “labor” to “labor-power” everywhere in the text that mentions its sale as a commodity doesn’t magically bring it to some hypothetical peak. marxs theoretical foundations between 1849 and 1867 (not to mention 8 years after his death in 1891!!) were radically different, meaning that the updating of a single category doesn’t resolve the problems of the text. here again, the editor plays a heavy role in the reception of the text (if you’ve read WLC, you almost certainly read the 1891 edition with engels’ editing), but also the theoretical foundations themselves are inadequate and were jettisoned in a matter of years.

the communist manifesto comes from this era of marxs thought as well and suffers from the same problems, although marx and engels treated the text as a kind of “historical document” which shouldn’t be altered, displacing the explicit “corrections” to the prefaces of later editions. regardless, its fame as The text of communism means that it becomes the go-to text for encountering and combatting communism. this is why it’s taught in high school classrooms and why jordan peterson thought it was enough to simply deal with the manifesto (beyond the fact that he’d obviously never read anything else by marx) as if it was the final word on communism. it isn’t, and the text has many problems that it’s authors pointed to, but also several which are only ever made implicitly in other texts, as the theoretical foundations are constantly being placed under scrutiny and changed. in the manifesto, he is largely uncritical of political economy’s categories, adhering to a malthusian conception of wages and a naïve theory of crises.

but there’s another issue, which isn’t wholly unrelated here, regarding the esoteric/exoteric dimensions of marxs writings which aren’t really grappled with until the 1970s by the neue marx-lektüre, concerning the ways in which marx would often write in “popularized” fashion, resulting in a kind of theoretical “dumbing down” of the concepts. he was extremely aware of the need to make himself understandable and even rewrote the beginning of capital several times in order to escape the same fate of the 1859 contribution which did poorly, in large part due to the fact that most people didn’t really understand it and those that did weren’t the people he was trying to reach.

the problem is that this often led to simplification rather than clarification, crudifying the analysis and turning it into something else which meant, at the end of the day, he was still misunderstood. this problem exists in many of his texts (even my favorites), meaning that some of his pieces, especially those which are often more explicitly political, become somewhat contradictory when compared to his private notebooks at the time. another serious and related issue here is the political censorship he faced at the time, which likely had a lot more to do with the way he expressed himself in published texts than we typically think. in my view, both of these things together help explain bernstein’s identification of a reformist tendency in the later marx, which was combatted by equally bad readings of traditional “exoteric” marxisms.

anyway, this is less a list of my least favorite marx books and more of a marxological wash of problems with making lists like this in the first place. it’s often hard to distinguish between marx and his editors, but also he was constantly developing and self-criticizing older conceptions, meaning that his “worst” books for me come from periods/texts where he isn’t on very firm footing (basically everything he wrong up to the grundrisse as far as i’m concerned), but excluding some of the texts which i think are actually quite strong despite their editorial weaknesses. my interest, then, is in understanding his intellectual development and bringing context to some of his later positions. that makes even the worst texts really important, even if i don’t find them adequate, which is sorta the point since he didn’t either.

#marxology

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