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acepandemi · 4 months

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I think it's time to talk about the saying "Time heals all wounds", because it seems to me that most people think it means that with enough time, all wounds just go away like they were never there, and everything is fine again.

But that's not what healing is like.

When you are wounded, badly (and I'm using physical wounds as a metaphor for any kind of trauma, for me the big one was losing my mother when I was a kid), at first the wound is gaping and open and bleeding, and you need to do something about it to start the healing. Sure, you could theoretically just leave it be, and wait for the bleeding to stop over time, but that's generally not a good idea. Because if the wound is bad enough, you're going to bleed out, and even if you don't it's not good for you, and also very messy.

So you bandage the wound, stitch it up, stem the bleeding, whatever it needs. Maybe you can do it yourself, maybe it's bad enough you need a professional to do it. Maybe you could do it yourself, but a professional could do it better, cleaner. Maybe you can't go to a professional, or are afraid or ashamed or pressured not to do it, even though you need it, so you do it yourself, or let someone else do it who maybe shouldn't, but you feel like you have no other choice or this is your best option. But maybe this means the wound won't heal right, not like it would have with professional help. This might have lasting effects, or at least affect the further healing.

At first the wound hurts all the time, really badly. It might keep you from sleeping, or eating, or enjoying life. It might feel like your entire world is reduced to feeling the pain of the wound, and you can try to ignore it, or push through it, but that won't help, might even make it worse. You need to take care of the wound, change the bandages, keep it clean, take it easy on yourself. Again, maybe you need a professional to help you out. Again, maybe you can't or won't get this help. Again, this won't make anything better. Maybe the wound gets infected, and now you have to seek professional help after all. The professional might say "You should have gotten help sooner." Maybe you really couldn't. Life is like that sometimes.

Some time passes, and the wound starts to close. It scabs over. But it still hurts, sometimes less, sometimes more, and it only needs a little bump to open up again. Maybe you can't help picking at the scab, despite the pain. Maybe you try not to think of it, try to keep going like the wound isn't there, and you end up tearing your stitches and needing new ones.

More time passes. The wound closes, but you get a scar. At first it's raw and pink and swollen, and it hurts. Maybe not as much as before, but it does hurt, especially if something impacts it. It itches too, and you know you shouldn't scratch it, but it's hard to resist. The itching means it is healing, people tell you. That doesn't make it easier to deal with. Sometimes itching is worse than pain. Maybe you try to put something on the scar to help it heal. Maybe a professional can help you with this. Maybe they can't.

Even more time passes. The wound is now fully closed, but the scar is still there. It will always be there. It doesn't hurt all the time anymore, but sometimes it does. When it rains, or when something bumps into it, or on the anniversary of the event that caused it, or sometimes just randomly. Maybe looking at it brings the pain back, maybe it doesn't. Maybe it is in a visible place, maybe it is not. Maybe people notice it and ask you about it, and that might make it hurt again, or it might not. Maybe people don't notice it, and assume you're fine when you're not, not knowing what you're carrying with you. Maybe people do notice, but don't understand, telling you "It can't be that bad", or "It's all in the past now". These are usually people who don't have scars of their own. People who do, usually understand.

Thing is, sometimes it's not just a scar. The wound might go deeper than your skin, damaging muscles underneath. Maybe you'll end up with chronic pain, or loss of mobility in that part of your body. Maybe this damage could've been fixed, or at least lessened, if you had gotten professional help. But if you didn't, or not untill later, it might not heal the way it might've, and you end up worse than you could have been. Sometimes that just isn't an option, though.

Maybe you even lost a limb. Maybe you can get a prosthetic, maybe you can't. Maybe the wound changes your whole life, maybe you have to give up on dreams you had, and change your life around completely. Redefine who you are, figure out how you are going to live your life now, what you want to do, what you can do. Maybe the wound will make it so you can never do certain things (again). Maybe a professional can help you, maybe they can't. Even a professional can only do so much.

And maybe the wound seamed to heal up nicely at first, but starts hurting worse later, maybe even years after, and you have to seek help. Even if you sought professional help immediately after it happened, it might start hurting again later, and you'll need help again. Maybe it starts hurting again, but you can do something yourself to lessen the pain, or your partner can, or your family, or your friends. Then again, these people (including yourself) can also make it worse, even if they don't mean to, even if they are trying to help.

Being wounded in this way, doesn't have to mean the end, that is true. But it does leave its marks. You will always carry it with you. Maybe it will have big effects that never really get smaller, maybe they will. But there will always be some sort of lasting effect.

Time heals all wounds, yes, but what does healing really look like? A wound that is healed doesn't mean a wound that is gone.

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untothebreach · 1 year

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God, I just feel like such a walking cliche. Everything I want to say or feel is so trite. So kitschy. So basic and overdone. There's nothing about my feelings that's new - it's just petulant self-pity, wrapped up in an artful bow recycled from everyone else who's ever suffered before.

Every metaphor I use is old. Every similie, outdated. Every image I can conjure brings to mind the energy of a crying middle schooler in an empty school hallway scribbling lines of poetry into an old composition book, or the cringe of a high schooler who lays on their bed and cries thinking their world is ending at the ripe old age of 15 because of some fleeting sadness they'll never feel again.

I feel... so *ashamed* to be feeling this way, really. Like I should be better than this. I should be over this, or at least, I should be feeling it in a way that's artful, mature. That's been aged into something meaningful and pretty in its ugliness, instead of this swamp of self-pity I'm in. I feel like a poor little rich girl who cries while surrounded by the perfect life, who doesn't have a reason to be this way and yet insists she is oh-so-distraught none the less.

I have no reason to be this way. I have no right to be. And there's nothing new or insightful for me to say on the matter that would make it a redeeming quality.

I'm just. Fucking. Sad.

#april 11 2023 #breachspeak

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misha-moose-dean-burger-lover · 3 years

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deancas highschool au, 1.8k.

dean's pretty sure it all comes down to being sam's fault.

kid had walked into their last scooby doo marathon without warning at eleven friggin' pm, startling both cas and him (because they watch scooby doo like it's meant to be watched — with all their concentration, goddammit) and consequently causing dean to knock over the bowl of popcorn and get its contents all over (and some inside) the couch.

fast forward from there to the next time dean asked mary if cas could sleep over, and her immediate condition being that they conduct the grand bingewatch (a necessary element of the dean-cas sleepovers) in dean's room instead of the living room, as she could not possibly handle finding more popcorn under the cushions of the damn sofa than she'd already been fishing for, the last two weeks.

so there.

it is absolutely and indisputably sam's fault that dean is right now half-propped up in bed next to his best friend, with a laptop on his lap and fellowship of the ring playing on it, unable to think about anything except the way their arms press against each other, knees brush, and cas's head ends up looming too close to dean's shoulder to not be resting on it.

oh, and how good cas looks in the almost-dark, lit by whatever's happening — dean knows exactly what's happening — on the screen.

just because.

it's past two — which translates to way too late for a gay awakening o'clock — but dean's pretty sure if his heart keeps beating at this rate till morning, he's going to wake up in an ambulance.

this has never happened before. being this conscious of wherever they're touching, this excited about it, or this intent on stealing glances when he's sure he won't be caught. (okay, maybe that one's happened before but it's beside the point.) put together, it is alien and disconcerting.

and dean's not an idiot. he knows — he thinks he knows what's happening. and he knows it's not supposed to feel like a switch flipping because these things — and that's about all of the clarity he can afford — happen over time. and yet it's like he's walked headfirst into a wall on this weird, weird night.

the only thing he knows for sure is that he's never felt this way before. not towards cas, not towards anyone.

well, there's also never been an anyone (else).

but screw semantics — dean's terrified.

and it's entirely sam's fault, obviously, which is why the next time dean sees the little bastard, he's going to —

"dean."

it's cas, interrupting his very subtle, manageable breakdown in his endearingly familiar why-aren't-you-already-paying-attention-to-me voice.

dean hits pause, pressing the spacebar and turning to face his cas-shaped dilemma in the eye. "what, you sleepy already?"

"of course not." cas's tone is haughty, like one of somebody who hasn't been the first one asleep in a single sleepover in the past. dean takes the blow with grace, because he friggin' deserves that. he's been ashamed of himself every, single, morning-after. "i was just wondering if the movie," cas tilts his head towards the screen. "isn't disturbing your parents or your brother. i don't think we've ever watched anything past midnight in your room before."

trust me, dean's brain supplies, i know.

but cas does have a point. there's plenty of loud noises in lotr, and the walls aren't particularly thick. and the last thing he wants right now is for dad to come see why they're not asleep yet, and find them friggin' huddled together on a single.

not that dean minds it.

"well," dean frowns. "what do you suggest? it is sorta late to switch to sleepover games, by the way, if you were planning on saying 'never have i ever'."

"we could use your earphones." cas says, like it's the most obvious thing. "and neither of us ever win in 'never have i ever', dean. or lose, actually. we know each each other too well. why would i suggest that?"

but dean's already stuck on a previous part of cas's sentence. "m-my earphones?"

cas blinks at him. "yes?"

dean swallows.

"unless you want to play 'never have i ever'?"

dean swats at cas for that, which the latter tries to dodge by pushing dean with both hands, until dean's wriggling and swearing at him to stop trying to put him through the wall because either they really are cosied up in that little space, or being in the middle of a really important realization makes you go soft on your opponent.

when cas finally lets dean go with a self-satisfied grin, dean only falters for a moment before planting the laptop on cas indelicately and knee-waddling to the end of the bed to get to his desk.

he finds his extremely well-used black earphones soon enough and returns to his spot, where cas shifts hardly an inch to give him his due space, resulting in dean well and truly sandwiched between the wall and cas, because his best friend is a jackass like that. and of course, the only reasons dean leans further towards cas with practised annoyance etched on his face is because it's the kind of annoying he's supposed to be, and it's october and the wall is cold.

cas, on the other hand, is really not.

"what are you waiting for?" cas grumbles, eyes squinty at dean in the dark, and dean makes a face at him, plugging it in (without needing to look, not that he'd've been able to see a thing in the dark anyways), and offering cas the left earplug.

which cas promptly puts in his left ear — the one that's farther away — because he's cas, and things like which earplug is meant for which ear, matter to him.

dean friggin' loves him.

and it's some time after dean's put the right one in his left ear — because he's not cas is why, and their heads are close enough already — and they've hit play and settled into the comfortable silence of watching a movie they've both seen at least five times in the past and dean's actually begun to pay attention, that he absolutely freezes in his metaphorical tracks, the entire world stuttering to a halt as he tries to register that last thought.

he loves cas.

he said it to himself. he said he loved him.

and that's just goddamn it.

he loves cas.

dean's eyes flit to cas, who's watching the movie without having any life-altering revelations, stuffing his mouth full of popcorn every five minutes (a habit dean can proudly claim to have been responsible for fostering in the first place), not smiling but with a corner of his lip pulled up like he ends up unconsciously doing whenever he's really paying attention, his profile only half-lit with colors, and his closeness suddenly so incredibly flustering.

yeah, well. you've known it for a while, the voice in dean's head that's not exactly his, returns. haven't you?

and maybe he has.

or maybe he hasn't, and it really does feel like a switch flipping for some people. people like him who're zoning out watching lord of the rings one moment, and smitten with their best friends the second.

it doesn't really matter either way, does it?

it's 2:37 am when dean turns his head to the movie again.

inarguably far too late for anything to matter to dean other the fact that he knows. the fact that he knows that he's in love with cas. and the fact that he is.

(maybe he can think of ways to ask him out tomorrow.

or next week.

or maybe he'll chicken out a thousand times until he finally ends up stuttering his way through a severely practised-in-the-mirror confession eight months later, and cas will smile that smile he reserves for dean, and say he can't make it friday because of astronomy club, and dean'll blush even harder because he knew that, he knows that dammit, and then cas will suggest thursday instead, and thursday will be too soon and way too terrifying and just perfect. and then they'll live happily ever after.)

but dean's got all the time in the world to sort out — read: lose his shit over — the maybe's.

right now? being in love with cas is enough.

and being here, watching the last sixteen minutes of one of their mutually favorite movies in bed with his best friend and love of his life, is perfect.

dean does end up falling asleep first, yet again, cause turns out achieving self-awareness and spontaneous living-in-the-moment prowess don't do shit to help with being less of an embarrassment.

but this time, he gets to wake up with an arm slotted around his waist, and a warm castiel curled up close behind him, still fast asleep and breathing in light puffs down dean's tshirt, so maybe, just maybe, he doesn't have to chalk this one up as a loss after all.

doesn't mean cas still won't be a smugfaced little shit about it though.

but then, that's probably one of the things dean winchester loves about him anyway.

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lady-literature · 3 years

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I rewrite Sky High

okay so, disclaimer: sky high was actually pretty damn good for it’s time and a lot of the plot twists/tropes used in it were still just starting out and not as commonplace as they are today. so 10/10 really good movie.

Also as i was writing this, it turned into half analysis of what’s already in the movie and half things I would change about the movie so,,, yeah. enjoy!

***

So the point about Sky High is that and the way the school and hero society as a whole works, is that you, as the audience, are supposed to look at it and know that it’s a flawed system. We’re supposed to see it as an injustice that kids are sorted into hero or sidekick- Sorry, I mean ‘Hero Support,’ on your first day of school based on something you can’t even control.

(This movie was my hero academia-ing it up before it was cool.)

Anyway, the movie calls a lot of attention to it in the beginning, but then doesn't actually give it the resolution it deserves in the end. Which, not cool guys.

The Hero/Sidekick debacle is, on the whole, a very thinly veiled metaphor for the problems minorities face. Specifically, those of the alphabet mafia, or LGBTQ, as we’re more commonly known.

There are a lot of examples for this so I’ll speed through the big ones real quick:

Will’s nerves regarding not having attraction to girls superpowers?

The way he tries to fake having an attraction to girls superpowers to get approval from his dad?

Being literally outed in front of his whole class (by someone named Boomer no less) and then immediately trying to hide it from his parents as long as possible?

The constant references to being a ‘late bloomer’. Doesn’t it remind you of the common phrases: ‘it’s just a phase’ or ‘don’t worry. You’ll start liking [opposite gender] eventually.’ ?

The scene in the kitchen, right after Will introduces the Sidekick Squad (and yes, that is what I’ll be referring to them as for the rest of this essay tumblr post). Will is so obviously trying to gauge how his dad is going to take his friends being sidekicks and also him being a sidekick. I just, this is so blatantly a coming out scene? How does anybody not see it as that?

(also the dad talking so offhandedly about bigotry and the hatred his own father had for sidekicks??? Who else has been there?)

Will telling his dad that he doesn’t care, that he’s proud of being gay to be a sidekick is just,,, *chef’s kiss*

With all of this backing behind Will and him growing into not being ashamed of his lack of powers, My first change would be that Will does not, in fact receive his father’s super strength. It’s just such a cop out! The movie had all this amazing build up, and this brilliant metaphor it could have used and, instead, they threw it all away.

The sudden acquisition of powers and immediate acceptance by his peers, feels too close to someone being ‘fixed’. That Will wasn’t good enough the way he was and had to be better, had to be his father in order to be good enough.

So, no. Will remains powerless.

Instead of the revelation of ‘he’s strong’, we get to let the Sidekick Squad shine.

Lash and Speed still cause a fight between Warren and Will, but when Will is under the table, the sidekicks actually do something.

Will knocks the table over (not, like, lifting Warren up but something closer to pushing him off. I mean, even I could push upwards from underneath a table fast enough that if someone is standing on it, they’d lose their balance and fall to the ground) and that starts things.

The Sidekick Squad all grab forgotten lunch trays or cartons of milk or something and throw it at Warren. It isn’t long then that the whole scene devolves into a food fight (Zach, at least, does not have good aim and probably hits a bystander accidentally, drawing more people in, until the whole cafeteria is involved.) The fight turns into something more playful, but still with that bit of an undertone of trying to actually hurt each other.

Ethan melts at one point and (accidentally) causes Warren to slip and land on his back, Magenta probably punches someone (not Warren) and Zach is just mouthing off to anybody who gets close enough. Near the end, right before Principal Powers shows up, Layla finally gets the right idea and just fire extinguishes the shit out of Warren.

(Side note here: I am very much also nixing the Layla crushes on Will plotline. I love best friends to lovers just as much as the next person but… no. Let kids see boy/girl friendships!

Instead, I will be inserting a Layla/Warren love story and you can consider this the first scene on the road for that.)

Anyway, the whole Sidekick Squad plus Warren ends up in the detention room and all of them are covered in food. Right after Principal Powers leaves, the Sidekick Squad is immediately talking excitedly to each other about how cool they just were and what they did. Basically it’s very wholesome and they’re all hyping each other up and then one of them, Layla or Will, excitedly turns to Warren and goes, ‘and that thing you did with the fireballs? God! I don’t think Lash is going to have any eyebrows for a month’ and the tension between them all but drops.

Warren, of course, tries to push them away and not get involved with their ridiculousness, but the Sidekick Squad is stubborn and by the end of detention, everyone but Warren is in agreement that he’s a part of the Squad now. They will not leave him alone. They also start hanging out at the Paper Lantern all the time just to annoy/make fun of him in that loving way friends do.

(I just want Warren to be a part of the Squad guys. Will calls him his best friend at the end but what did the movie actually do to show they were friends? Nothing, that’s what. I want that fixed.)

So the cafeteria fight boosts the whole Squad’s reputation, right? People think those sidekicks are pretty cool, and they get their fifteen minutes of fame. Only… Will gets a little hooked on the feeling of being popular. He doesn’t want to be a capital-h Hero or anything! But, well… he’d be lying if he didn’t like people thinking he was cool.

The others don’t really care all that much about being cool, but Will does. He hates that he does but what is he supposed to do? He can’t change how he feels. So he starts trying to make himself more popular and sometimes tries dragging his friends into stupid schemes.

And then enter stage right, one Gwen Grayson.

I prefer Gwen being Royal Pain’s daughter, actually. A girl who would’ve had no stock in this fight but her mother, who is sickly and weak and survives mostly because her daughter takes care of her, practically brainwashes Gwen to do her bidding.

Gwen is a minion here, and also, perhaps, a victim.

At first, she follows her mom’s orders and charms Will into dating her. She also feeds into his desire to gain popularity but can’t, in this world, break him from his friends. Actually, Will brings Gwen along to the Sidekick Squad hangouts and, slowly, she becomes a part of the group too.

She starts to doubt her mother. Starts to care for Will and the Squad.

She throws the party, and the Squad is all invited (trying to break them up isn’t conducive to the Plan her mother has anyway and wouldn’t work besides) but she lures Will away to make out and… other things, and he brings her to the Sanctum for privacy just like before. She still steals the pacifier (or whatever death ray equivalent you want idk) but she and Will don’t break up at the end of the night.

It’s not actually until two days later, right before the dance is going to start, does Gwen decide she can’t stand back and let this happen anymore. She spills the whole plot and her betrayal to Will when he comes to pick her up for the dance. She’s crying and apologizing and basically expecting to be hated forever by the only people she thinks ever actually liked her.

And, well. Will is furious at her for lying but there’s more important things to deal with at the moment. They’ll talk more about this and he’ll be angry, but that’s all going to be later. Right now they have a school to save so he grabs her hand and starts running to warn the rest of their friends.

Things happen mostly as canon from that point with minor changes.

It’s Warren who pulls Layla into a kiss before they all split off into groups, telling her to kick ass and stay safe before sprinting off after Speed. There have been scenes throughout the movie where the two are very obviously getting closer and are into each other. And then, before the dance, while Gwen and Will we’re technically going as a couple, the whole Squad was going as a group.

When Warren and Layla saw each other all dolled up, it’s very cliché. Warren says she looks nice and Layla visibly gulps at his outfit of a button down and suit pants, sleeves rolled up to his elbows (because homeboy does not wear a full tux you can fight me on this).

And also, Will doesn’t fight Royal Pain by himself. Instead, Gwen is there with him and they don’t fight with super strength. Gwen’s been helping Will build an arsenal of gadgets a la Batman and the two face off against her mom together, Gwen with her powers, and Will acting as half support and half as a watered-down Batman who still needs some more training before he’s totally polished.

The school falls from the sky, but Gwen buys them time by keeping the anti gravs working through sheer force of will, while Will holds off her mom from attacking her while she’s vulnerable and concentrating. Magenta eventually kills the EMP or whatever it was, and the day is saved.

Gwen passes out, cause ~drama~ but she ends up okay so don’t worry. She’s just exhausted.

The sidekicks get their recognition and then immediately bounce because dances suck and they all agree that they should go to the Paper Lantern instead to celebrate cause they’re tired, alright? Saving the day is hard.

So it’s all of them, a little battered and bruised and exhausted, crowded into this corner booth and laughing and being kids. The camera does it’s fade to comic book page thing, and the narration is something more along the lines of:

“Royal Pain and her cronies got locked away. Gwen and I talked things out, and she’s getting help for all the stuff her mom did to her. We’re taking things slow in the meantime.

The school is undergoing a lot of changes to the curriculum and getting rid of the whole ‘hero/sidekick’ divisions. (Mostly at the urging of my parents… and Layla). Next year is going to look a lot different, I think.

But it’ll be a good different, just like we are. None of us were what we were expected to be, and, I think, we’re going to keep defying expectations. There’s a whole world out there that needs changing.

And I can’t think of a better group of friends to do it with.”

THE END

(just give me found family saves the day by being themselves rather than somebody else, give me them saving the day because they care about each other, give me them fighting for what’s right and fixing things. please i am b e g g i n g.)

***

Additional nitpicks that are small but Very Important to Me

Coach Boomer is still called coach Boomer because there is no way I am missing out on the ‘okay, boomer’ jokes

Layla stays like Layla, but i’d like for the movie to stop trying to make her seem annoying for her beliefs or like she’s wrong to be so vocal about them. Her caring about things that are wrong ends up as the butt of too many jokes and i… do not like that.

Why so many dad/son scenes? Why this janky imbalance parenting dynamic between the Strongholds. Knock that shit off. I want happy functional family thank you very much

Mr Boy and the mad scientist are very obviously in a relationship

Wait, actually: mr boy, mad scientist and Boomer are al in a poly relationship and are ridiculous about it

I’d like to see more of the sidekick classes going over like, ‘the boring’ parts of the job, and teaching the kids how to deal with the aftermath of the heroes heroics, just to hammer in the fact that the system is fucked up and that it’s messed up that the heroes get all the recognition while the sidekicks are left to clean up the mess

Use actual 14 year old actors? These kids look like seniors.

Or, if you want more ‘mature’ characters make it so sky high is like,,, a finishing school or smth. Something kids 16 and over go to.

(What the fuck kind of parent thinks that their freshman child dating a senior is a good idea?? An almost adult coming onto a fourteen year old??? Are you trying to make Will’s parents (particularly the dad) seem like irresponsible assholes??)

Gwen is, at most, a year above Will in this rewrite, kay?

#my typewriter #sky high #disney #warren peace #superheroes #lgbt

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hope-to-hell · 3 years

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Hey Hope it me! How're you doing?

I'm in a Billy Lee mood but also want something soft cause I'm feeling fragile so: How about he accused you of... something, maybe even went so far as to punish, but then found out it wasn't your fault at all so he's apologising and making it up to you

Centralia. Billy Lee x Reader. Allusions to dubcon (though no smut for once) Stockholm syndrome, mind games, Billy Lee being himself. He is sorry, at least for a little while. It didn’t end up very soft at all, many apologies.

Billy Lee isn’t a good man, or a kind man, or even a decent man. He is a man, and that’s the most you can say without condemning him. He’s a man who thought to topple gods and raise himself in their stead; he is fire and fury and bloody teeth and the whisper of sweat under sandalwood. And today he is sorry.

Or at least as sorry as he gets. You know, of all his runaways less than half came back; he spits the names of the lost into the fire and says here we are again. I must say I am disappointed. Disappointed Billy Lee is awful; poison seeps from his pores

(Touch him, I dare you, I fucking dare you. Oh, don’t be so frightened. Your fingerprints will melt off and when he takes your teeth that’ll be one less thing he has to worry about. No teeth, no prints, nothing to tie you to this earth except your ashes on the wind)

and when he looks you in the eye it stabs knife-sharp all through you. Billy Lee is all these metaphors and more; you can’t describe him any other way. There’s just too damn much of him. He cuts your remiges and though he leaves the cage door open it’s his sweetly crooned words in your ear that keep you there. It’s a scary world out there, little darlin’. Why don’t you cozy up and stay a while? Okay, Billy Lee, okay, okay.

I need to know. Why’d you bring me back? I saw what you did to Sophie and Philip and Evangeline.

Because you’re mine, my pretty little songbird. You’re mine because you’re not your own, because when I saw you in the blue of twilight you were an empty vessel waiting for me to fill you up, not just with my seed but with all the sweetness and affection that no one else could give you.

He’s a liar.

But you know him: he always lies, even when he believes with all his heart. Like when he traces the marks on your face and says he’s sorry, licking up your tears and saying there you are, sweetheart. You’re safe with me.

Yeah, safe until you’re in pieces in the trunk of his car, killed on a cold and rainy day because if he’s a god then he’s a god of storms, violent and beautiful. When he came to fetch you home he brought ozone in his wake, sharp and dangerous. He brought fear and wildness, sparks arcing between his fingers. And like lightning strikes in faraway hills he brought fire.

He brought rage that still crawls beneath his skin because he’ll never be free of it; he recognizes the shame and the fear of a man pretending and he crushes it down until even the coals of it are dark and dusty, banked under that vulpine grin and the play of muscles under skin as he fucks you gently. But a man ashamed is a man on the defensive, and Billy Lee will bite and snap til all your skin is left in tatters.

But listen. This is all a distraction. You know what kind of vicious man he is; you don’t need all his thousands of prickly little points enumerated. You know every tick of the clock is borrowed time and so you bask in these moments with your head buried in the crook of his arm, his fingers tangling and gripping in your hair, listening closely like you could hear the blood rush through his cubital vein. His heart pounds in tune to the thoughts that spiral in his head, and when he says he cares for you it’s his teeth in your neck.

What does it matter? You’re here until the end, until the worms take either him or you. Your fate was sealed the first time you saw him, when he kissed the tears from your face and said these belong to me now. Let him take what he wants; sometimes his cruelty lifts and what remains is what he could have been, if his heart wasn’t all coals and spite, if his pores didn’t seep the poison of the deep dark underground, of coal fires and thermal vents, of orange light in the darkness. Can you mourn for a man who never was? Or are you mourning the loss of yourself, crawling deep into the earth to let him burn you up?

He’s sorry, oh he’s so very sorry, and he will remain so until the sun disappears behind the trees, until his teeth shine in the low light. He is hunting, even here with you tucked up against him like ordinary lovers. He is hunting, and sooner or later he will strike.

#chris hemsworth #Billy Lee #billy lee x you #billy lee x reader #billy lee fic #bad times at the el royale #bad times at the el royale fic #my fic

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katatonicimpression · 3 years

Text

Neurodivergence in Generation X Part 3:

The Headcase

Because it’s not just about autism, is it?

Trauma and mental illness in general are also a theme with Monet’s character. Generation X explores these themes like all good superhero stories do, by way of a gratuitous extended metaphor.

Let’s talk about Penance.

What is Penance?

Penance is the red demon-like creature with inpenitrable skin and razor-sharp claws that houses Monet’s consciousness for just over half of the series (and Claudette’s and Nicole’s after they separate).

Penance is a cage. She’s a literal prison Monet is put into by her abuser (her brother Marius). She can’t speak as Penance, but it goes beyond that. She can barely communicate with others at all. She’s also separated from her powers, including that intellect she prides herself on. Monet is a super-genius. Penance barely understands what’s going on around her. Penance doesn’t appear to understand language at all.

In fact, Penance barely seems to understand that she is Monet. Now, while this is likely a result of the details of the plot not being finalised when this shit was written, I really don’t care about authorial intent here. Penance, at least by the time she finally escapes Marius, doesn’t really remember who she is.

Like many alternate, non-human forms of characters in comics, Penance represents a side of Monet. The most apparent “meaning” of Penance is as a metaphor for autism itself. The fact that Penance can’t speak and doesn’t appear to understand what people are saying is a clear analogy to Monet’s catatonic episodes and Claudette’s non-verbal demeanour. Penance is a very unsubtle metaphor for the ways in which autism can hinder communication with others, leaving you isolated.

But there are things other than communication-breakdown that Penance represents, to me at least. The idea of a volatile, animalistic and even dangerous being that you’re trapped inside of? That you can’t even think clearly about let alone talk about? That’s a pretty damn powerful metaphor for a lot of mental health stuff.

This is the sort of thing I live for in comics, and we might get more of it from Monet in X-corp. Now that the Penance form is back in Monet’s life (in a completely different way), there’s space to really go deep into these themes.

Why is Penance?

When Marius turns Monet into Penance, he says that it’s a punishment for how shallow she is. Honestly, I think the fact that Monet, when confronted with the fact that her brother has turned into a demon hellbeast from another dimension, decides to mock his appearance is some queen shit, but what do I know?

This doesn’t make sense for two reasons. Firstly, it’s established earlier that the only reason she’s called Penance is that Gateway was asking for forgiveness when he brought her to the mansion and the team misunderstood his words.

Secondly, Marius doesn’t punish Monet by making her monstrous (and not just because Penance is usually drawn kinda pretty). He punishes her by literally torturing her. Like, this isn’t massively relevant here but it’s a stupid line that adds a weird morality-tale angle to it. As if Monet somehow earned his abuse.

So this is what Monet goes through as Penance. When she’s cut off from a lot of her own ability to think, when she can’t talk, can’t communicate and can barely understand her surroundings, she is subject to unspeakable abuse at the hands of her brother.

This is another way that Penance functions metaphorically. She’s the unreachable state Monet retreats into. Her indestructible skin is said to be a direct result of her withdrawing into herself out of fear. She is the way that an instinctive response to trauma can isolate a person.

In later appearances, the fact that Monet went through unspeakable trauma as Penance is addressed more directly, but I like the less direct, metaphor-heavy approach here. It’s more fluid in interpretation than just talking about it, I guess, but it is really impactful in my opinion.

How is Penance?

As in, how is she feeling? When we’re first introduced to Monet, she’s catatonic and, honestly, seems depressed.

Monet often comes across as deeply troubled. While she’s clearly confident in a lot of ways, and doesn’t really seem self-aware enough to act ashamed or embarrassed, she does often seem upset with herself, angry with herself.

Reading Generation X is a little strange in this way, compared to other comics of the time. Most of the mental health themes explored in comic books in the 90s were

1) I have been experimented on and now I have superpowers but also trauma.

2) My parents/wife/children were murdered.

3) Non-specific heroic male angst.

Monet’s problems are a lot more low-key and, despite the supernatural goings on, ultimately grounded in something very real: abuse by a family member and social isolation. I think it’s really effective, to be honest.

Okay, three down. One to go.

------------------------

Part 1

Part 2

Part 4

#x-men #x men #generation x #monet st. croix #monet st croix #penance #Marius St. Croix #emplate #rants #autistic representation #autism in media

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kaypeace21 · 3 years

Note

i’m a survivor too, and i found that certain scenes/stuff will said just really struck me as ‘csa-survivor’-like? i felt a bit uncomfortable about headcanoning it happening to someone else, especially for a fandom as wild as this one, but your metas have really been a comfort to me because they’ve been able to pick out and explain things that i couldn’t necessarily find the words for myself.

and yeah, i would love to have a character like me that is powerful and who finds love and who gets a happy ending. the people who call the theory disgusting always kinda hit wrong with me because although csa is a difficult subject, we shouldn’t be ashamed about sharing it. they sound like they’re trying to say that it’s a bad topic to talk about and implying that it can’t happen to kids, which uhhhhh-

(i’m sure that’s not what they mean, precisely, but it’s still what they sound like, and i wish that they would stop implying that we can’t exist, especially in popular media. we do, and i’m not gonna pretend we don’t, and if they feel uncomfortable with the topic they can just use the block button. we deserve to have some well written representation just as much as anyone else. also, i really really hope that will gets a happy ending.)

anywayyyy i love your theories and i can see your post in the tag so i think you’re fine?? have a good day ❤️❤️❤️

SORRY, this ask took so long to respond to. It always warms my heart to hear other survivors speak and say they found comfort in my theory.

Yes, I think I and a lot of c*a/r*pe victims (subconscious or otherwise) were triggered by some of the symbolism/visuals in s1-3. And s3 made it hard for most of us to ignore the past imagery- since s3 wasn’t as subtle.

I get why people have reservations about the theory. But the debates to the contrary are usually just plain offensive. Or people trying to be respectful but being the opposite. There’s the obvious bad-apples . I got many anons after part 1 of my DID theory saying it “ruined/tainted byler”, and “if that happened to Will i’ll stop shipping byler” , or that it “ruins the best gay character” , and to “remove the post immediately”. And this was when I was open about being a gay c*a victim. I obviously blocked them. Many survivors don’t come forward because they’re afraid people will see them as “tainted”, “ruined”, “ just their trauma”, or blame them for what happened. So yeah, it pisses me off when people say similar stuff about Will (and thus other c*a victims). Not even diving into the messed up psychology about byler/mileven shippers (knowing i was a lesbian c*a victim) but purposely spreading bs rumors about me being a p*do that was into Will/Noah-all because of the theory. -_-

Then there’s the people who try to be “respectful” but literally do the opposite.

I’ve heard numerous times it’s somehow “less offensive” to just use r*pe imagery to make monsters scary. Rather than have the monsters have that imagery cause Will created the monsters from his memory/imagination-and st is a story of Will healing from that trauma. SORRY- I disagree. Using the worst experiences of peoples’ lives (and triggering their trauma) for no real purpose- except to make their monsters scarier to the normal/general audience who haven’t gone through it so won’t be triggered like us - is MORE OFFENSIVE to victims! NOT LESS! At least to me.

Then there’s the people who say “c*a should never be talked about (in stories).” Which I disagree with. V*ctims have already been told by ab*ser’s and enablers of the ab*ser- to never talk about what happened to us . So it rubs A LOT of us the wrong way when people say this. Because (subconscious or not) you remind some of us of the people who used to hurt/silence us. People say this -simply for their convenience (like ab*sers) and cause deep down they’re uncomfortable with our existence and equate the despicable act to us the innocent v*ctim ...or just want to deny the horrible reality of the situation (like many enablers who deny the truth and hurt us because they don’t want to accept reality) . And 1) It brings us back to a time where they told us to NEVER talk about it- and makes us feel like we did something wrong when we didn’t! 2) Every psych professional says with-holding/keeping the ab*se a secret is detrimental to our mental health.

Plus, there’s a HUGE difference between sugarcoating/minimizing trauma or WORSE glamorizing, condoning, or romanticizing C*A in stories (ex: pretty little liars) VS showing how the action is wrong, causes trauma, but showing recovery and happiness is still possible for v*ctims. if the story shows how accurately traumatizing it is (instead of minimizing/glamorizing it)- it’s incredibly rare for that character to get a happy ending. Having a story about recovering from that type of trauma and finding happiness despite such hardships would be amazing for US survivors! We rarely get stories with a happy ending- it’s more harmful to us survivors to never see ourselves get happy endings in tv/film/books. How can some survivors (in a dark place) think there’s a light at the end of the tunnel- if it’s never shown?Also if Will has DID too- it’s good mental health rep, along with queer rep (and survivor’s rep.) All 3 groups rarely are treated well or get happy endings in media. A lot of people may feel more heard, seen, and a bit more hopeful for the future - If Will (and other characters) get a happy ending.

And even though st has many themes- like say homophobia. To try and hand-wave all the disturbing r*pe imagery away as ‘Will is just gay so the monsters are like that”. IS SOOOOOO offensive. Trigger warning for examples. I’m sorry what part of Max saying when Billy had c*nsensual s*x it’s “good screams” but when possessed by the mf he causes Heather to do “bad screams” read as gay???! Having the possessed ch*ke/dr*g people before throwing them in trunks (like it’s implied Lonnie did to Will -since Jonathan checked Lonnie’s trunk for Will in s1)?Tying their arms and legs up/ g*ging them and getting on top of them and saying “stay VERY still it’ll all be over soon”-before a monster shoves it’s tentacle into someone’s mouth and inserts a goo - just gay??? Similar to the sentient vine/shadow monster forcing itself down Will’s throat. Let alone Will saying things like “he made me do it”, “i felt it everywhere”, or being tied to a bed and screaming “help! stop! it hurts! let me go!” While Jonathan is the only one who’s visibly triggered by this and has to literally turn away and hug someone . Or barb, billy, and El spiting up a white liquid from their mouth (similar to will spitting up a slug and lying to his mother about it ).El/billy touching a suspicious looking slime with their hand and looking at the substance confused . El drawing Papa with 3 legs (the middle one being shorter) , trying to undress in front of the boys , and Benny saying “I think she’s been ab*sed or something”.The theme of ab*sive dads- brenner , Lonnie, and Neil . Even when the demogorgan (called in d&d the “deep father”/ in the show “a man without a face”) attacked Barb it’s chopped up with scenes of Nancy having c*nsensual sex (the monsters are doing the opposite symbolically). There’s way more examples but NO- to try and hand wave /equate ALL OF THIS to just “gay imagery” or an “a*ds metaphor” is WAY more problematic. And just offensive (specifically to gay people) than just admitting what it may actually represent. R*pe imagery and gay imagery is NOT THE SAME THING!

Also ST has never been a kid show- maybe rewatch the show and see the rating of tv-14 . Goodness sake- s1 has a st*ged su*icde, k*dnappings, m*rder, discussions of physics, h*mophobia, and s*x (with stancy in s1 & jancy in s2-s3). S2/3 discuss at their finalies recovering from tra*ma . S2 had gra*ic de*ths, a man causing a women br*in damage/ and faking her m*scarriage, and a gang of vigalantes k*lling criminals. s3 had critiques on capitalism /media/s*xism, many d*eaths, and questionable imagery like the prior seasons. The Duffers constantly reference movies & events from the 80s (capitalizing on 80s nostalgia /subverting 80s motifs that middle age people from that time remember)! Those people were their intended age demographic . Most 80s centric refs go over most kids’ heads (heck a lot went over my head too since I wasn’t alive in the 80s XD).The Duffers even said in the book “worlds turned upsidedown” “it’s not a kid’s show despite having kids”. And maybe it’s a coincidence but when Lucas in s3 hands Will the “devil’s baby” firework (a hint about Lonnie) he says “18 and over only.” Which idk is a weird/random af line unless it’s foreshadowing that the show will get darker about various themes- and maybe even change ratings.

I get people wishing nothing bad ever happened to Will or Jonathan. And being apprehensive and not trusting the Duffers to do such a story justice (cause it’s difficult to do). But personally i trust them to do so tastefully with tact and not be exp*itative, (overly gr*fic) or offensive to v*ctims. You can disagree and think the show is about something else (or not trust the Duffers)- but it’d be great if people could stop using these other messed up talking points. While trying to appear ‘(fake) woke’ and like they care for victims- cause we see through it that you really don’t.

Have a lovely day anon ❤️ ❤️ ❤️

Update- I just really agreed with and appreciate the tags in this reblog

#tw: csa #tw:r*pe

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elphenfan · 3 years

Text

Wall of Love 1/?

Inspired by a ‘prompt’ off pinterest. I meant for this to be a oneshot and then...I wrote a lot because...me. So as not to make the one person asking wait for too long, we’ll do this in chapters. -------------------------------------------

It happened…when he least expected it.

Of course, that would imply that he, at some level, however infinitesimally small it might be, had expected it, and he could say that he hadn’t expected it at all with conviction and complete honesty.

How could he, after all? It wasn’t the sort of thing you ran into.

Ran into. Quite literally. How very droll.

The fact of the matter was that he had indeed quite physically run into it. Alright, so perhaps he had walked rather than run but that was rather beside the point, he would have thought. He had still walked straight into it, literally and metaphorically, and he hadn’t known what had hit him.

There. Had he managed to express enough modern idioms for it to get across sufficiently?

At least, he didn’t know until much later, and then he had known quite a lot of things all at once. The story about how all of that unfolded goes something like this, give or take a few details omitted or changed slightly.

--------------------------------

Aziraphale hummed to himself as he walked, feeling in a particular good mood.

Of course, he had been in a general sort of good mood for some time at this point in time. It was hard not to be, considering. Even when Crowley treated the bookshop as his personal bedroom and went to sleep in the oddest of places. If it had at least been limited to horizontal places, then…

To be honest, though, that was something of a bonus. It meant that people who saw him were more likely to shun the bookshop and to tell their friends as well, and it gave Aziraphale more of an excuse to keep the shop shut so as not to disturb the sleeping demon.

Not that he needed extra excuses, of course.

But the addition of Crowley as a more or less permanent resident in the shop and in his life was enough to warrant a good mood whatever happened. No matter what mood he was in, what the overlaying mood was, as it were, the underlying mood was always one of contentment and happiness.

The foundation, you might say. Unassailable and unshakable.

Well, nearly.

If there was one fly in the ointment, to borrow an expression, then it was that –

No. That was not an issue and certainly no fly. He had asked about it and had got an answer. The fact that it might not be the answer he would’ve liked to hear did not mean it was an issue or a problem. Not at all, and he ought to be ashamed that he could as much as conceive the notion.

What he had was far more than he could’ve asked for, in any case, and he could not say he wasn’t over the moon with all that he had gained after…after That Saturday. What they had gained.

That had and would always far outstrip anything else.

One thing that he particularly enjoyed was getting to do small things for the demon, whether he noticed them or not. If he did notice them, though, he would splutter and bluster and try to keep his composure. To keep cool, as Aziraphale believed he’d put it, though the blond was at a loss to see what the point was. Then again, he always had struggled with seeing that sort of thing, though he knew it mattered to Crowley.

Interestingly, though, no matter how much bluster and reaction there had or hadn’t been, Crowley had never given the things back or put a stop to them, and so Aziraphale had carried on with them.

It had got to a point by now that the angel would from time to time announce that he would be going out to get one or do one of those little things, leaving the demon ample opportunity to protest or outright stop him if that were what he desired.

So far, there hadn’t been so much as a peep or a movement against, and so Aziraphale had carried on. Not everything was broadcast, obviously, though. There had to be some small opportunities for surprises.

Right now, for instance, he’d gone off to find something that Crowley particularly enjoyed eating but which was only available for a short period of time. It had taken a bit of time to find the best place, or even somewhere that made them, but he had managed it and now, with a bit of time taken out to gather a few extra goodies for the both of them, he was on his way home.

Home.

Home where a demon was waiting for him still. For a given value of waiting, that was. When he’d left him, he’d been snoozing quite happily, stretched out in an impossible position over the back of the sofa that ought to have resulted in him napping on the floor instead.

Not that that stopped the ginger when he felt like sleeping, of course.

Aziraphale felt his lips spread into a smile. Oh, he could hardly wait to get back and surprise his demon with his find.

Perhaps he would wake him with the scent of what he’d bought, which ought to count as a very lovely way to wake up. It was certainly strong enough and enticing enough for his own eyelids to flutter and his mouth to water a little. Perhaps more than a little but then, he had had the scent wafting on the entire scent home, which was getting relatively close now.

As in, he was in general area of Soho, though there was still some way to walk before he reached the part of Soho that was home. He had chosen to go a different direction than normal, as it was a better route for where he had finally managed to locate the thing he’d been after for Crowley.

The fact that it ought to have stopped wafting any kind of scent let alone one of just-come-out-of-the-oven was a minor matter which –

Aziraphale’s thoughts derailed quite suddenly and strongly. Came to a halt, as it were, though that too was somewhat failing to encapsulate the full impact of what he felt.

It wasn’t horrible. If anything, it was the exact opposite, to the point that it threatened to overwhelm and overpower him.

He staggered backwards for a few steps before recovering enough to stop and get himself upright. Well, mostly upright, at any rate, and he had to shoot an arm out to steady himself.

The people around him shot him odd looks but, as he didn’t seem to be in any danger, most continued past, with a few levelling a disapproving glance at him. One small man in a grey suit and a mac did come over to see whether he was alright, though, and he managed to smile and reassure him.

What he said to make the other believe him enough that he went away, he had absolutely idea. The important point was that he didn’t ask any further questions and left him, without calling for an ambulance or something similar.

Not that it wasn’t kind of him to check, of course, not to mention picking up the items the blond had dropped and making sure they were all in one piece, miraculously. That was undeniable, and he did his best to make sure that the man was left feeling his help was appreciated.

It was merely that…well, how could he possibly explain what the problem was?

To say that he had walked straight into a wall of – of love, quite frankly, would not be conducive to getting the man to leave. If anything, it was likely to have a different kind of car called.

Nevertheless, that was the truth of the matter.

Aziraphale had walked straight and true into a wall of love, with much the same impact and effect as a silent era movie star slamming into a pane of glass. He dared to suspect they’d had the same severely smarting face from it, though whether they had the tinkling in their nose and lips were something he wouldn’t speculate on.

He looked up and now that he was aware of what he was looking for, he could see it shimmering at the edge of his vision, a softness that sharpened at the same time as it blurred.

But that sort of visual representation of it was…that did not happen with any kind of love. And no, it had nothing to do with the size of the love. It might be the smallest of loves that showed the brightest and strongest. The truest, as it were.

There were certainly loves that were large and brash and yet were more cobweb-fine and just as hole-riddled as could be. Without substance, in other words.

For the most part, large or small, the love present at any given point was something that was felt rather than seen.

This, though? This was…goodness, there was little wonder that he’d walked into it as if it were a physical object, smarting face and staggering and all.

To be perfectly honest, he was astonished at the fact that people seemed to pass through it as though it was nothing of importance or didn’t exist at all.

Granted, he was a being of love and therefore was able to sense instances of it where humans would see or feel nothing at all, not even where one would’ve thought they’d feel it. It was often quite wonderful, sometimes it was unsettling and on rare occasions, it was crushing and depressing.

That being said, this was…this was of a kind that he would’ve thought everyone would sense. Would run smack into, in fact, to borrow another phrase, and yet, they not only passed through it, but did so as if it were nothing out of the ordinary.

As if it weren’t there at all, in fact.

Something so extraordinary as that and they couldn’t sense it? Even with the factor that this was London, it was more, or less as the case may be, than he would’ve ever expected from people.

How could they be so ignorant of it? It did not seem possible – oh.

No, they weren’t ignorant of it. They just weren’t aware of it.

That was to say, while they weren’t consciously aware of what was happening, quite a few of them had bodies that were and there was a lightness to their step and a softness to their expression that he would be willing to bet – were he not firmly against betting on general, angelic principle, that was – hadn’t been there when they’d stepped into the sphere.

Aziraphale, his arms slightly haphazardly full of the things he’d dropped or almost dropped and had been given back a bit too quickly, tried to move forward to give a further inspection.

He moved much more slowly and carefully than before so as to be sure he didn’t walk into anything. His nose was quite loud in its protests on that score.

A small part of him felt it really was most unfair that he should be hurt by something like that, in particular when humans passed through without any issue.

Then again, they didn’t get the full impact of it either, so he supposed it was a trade-off.

As he neared, the feeling of it intensified and he had to be careful he didn’t stagger again. It was just as potent as when he’d first bumped into it, it showed no sign of dissipating or even diminishing and as far as he could tell, it was very large indeed. So large that he couldn’t have said where its epicentre was.

Which was odd in itself. Large or small, to locate where a particular love came from was no effort at all for him, even though sometimes it really would’ve been nicer not to know. Normally, it was, at any rate. But this?

Stranger still was its strength. This was evidently the edge of it, which he could see with his very eyes, and yet, there was no indication that it was in terms of strength. Put another way, if this was the edge of it, presumably where it was the weakest, then he was almost afraid to know the strength of it at its epicentre.

Who could possibly be emanating a love as strong as that? It was almost of divine proportions, or so he would’ve said if he wasn’t more than aware that that didn’t mean much, or at least didn’t mean what it ought to mean.

He involuntarily looked upwards as he thought that but there didn’t seem to be anyone who had heard anything or otherwise taken notice. Or perhaps they were pointedly ignoring whatever they heard from him at this point in time. It amounted to the same thing, so he wasn’t going to complain.

As he’d looked up, he’d failed to see that someone was in a hurry. So much in a hurry, in fact, that they didn’t care where they went and certainly not where they were supposed to be.

Which meant that they’d mounted the pavement to now come barrelling down it, the pistons of their legs going as though the engine had to supply twice the intended capacity, without regard to where they might have to go through, or who, for that matter.

Including an apparently middle-aged man in a rather fastidious, old-fashioned suit and coat with his arms full, who happened to be standing straight in its path.

People around him were jumping and shouting. Someone was even pulling at his sleeve to try and get him out of the way in time. Unfortunately, there was no time, and in only a few more moments, bicycle and pedestrian would collide.

Only, it didn’t.

To the gaping bystanders, something rather miraculous happened; the bicycle swerved at the last moment, avoiding hitting the blond man by fractions of an inch, whereupon the wheel went on with its curve, so much so that it turned into something of a pirouette.

When it came to a halt, the cyclist was not only still on the bike but was standing, to his utter surprise and bewilderment, on top of the saddle, one foot resting on the saddle while the rest of his body stretched out in a rather graceful ballet pose, despite his suit not being made for that kind of manoeuvre at all.

He had never been to the ballet and wouldn’t have known one pose from another, let alone been able to perform one and yet, here he was. Not only was he doing it, he was holding it, and he felt an almost unbearable urge to go and practice, perhaps take up lessons.

Then reality seemed to return to him. More specifically, he became aware of all the people who were gaping at him and then of what he’d been doing before he’d…oh.

He flushed a nice burgundy colour and scrambled down. Someone took his hand and he involuntarily pirouetted. The colour in his cheeks turned almost plum. However, he didn’t stop.

“That does remind me, it’s been ages since I’ve been at the ballet,” he could hear someone mutter as they went past.

The cyclist, whose name was Bryan, because there is always someone who has to spice up even the most straightforward of names, thought there was something familiar about the outfit and the shape of the head as they went past but couldn’t place it.

In any case, they were past him before he had a chance to give them a proper scrutiny. The last thing he heard before the constant turning made him too dizzy to focus on anything was something along the lines of, “I wonder if I could persuade Crowley to go with me this time.”

For years afterwards, he was not only a ballet devotee, practising and dragging his wife with him to performances, but he kept having the feeling he’d been incredibly lucky in escaping something. Something which would’ve had dire consequences, for more than just himself.

As for Aziraphale, though he wasn’t as shaken as he possibly ought to have been, it had brought home to him that he couldn’t stand there gawping forever. He had a demon to return to.

While he walked, he got so wrapped up in his thoughts that he…not forgot the love that was all around him at this point, not quite. It was only that he didn’t notice when he stepped into it nor how natural it seemed once he stepped into it. Almost as if it disappeared from his conscious mind entirely once he was in its sphere.

Almost as if it were so familiar to him it slipped in and settled around him, entirely unnoticed and right.

Part of him.

#aziraphale/crowley #Ineffable Husbands #elphen fic #good omens fic #fanfic #Aziraphale #crowley

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gryfon-spanish-werewolf · 4 years

Note

Uuh dunno if you would like this prompt : Anna and Elsa as a mythical creatures.

Would love too see what you will write them as ^^

@like-redhead-probably I sat thinking about this ask for a long time, because while I IMMEDIATELY thought of one for Elsa, Anna’s absolutely eluded me. And I know you were probably looking for a story, but I am unable to stop myself from first EXPLAINING my choices xD

I was already thinking about the myth of the Hulder (or huldra if we’re speaking of the creature in general instead of the specific Norwegian myth) for other story-related reasons, and as I did more research, I felt like the Hulder REALLY shared similarities with Elsa.

Generally speaking the huldra is a Scandinavian myth of a pale skinned, blonde or brown haired, attractive young woman who lives in the wilderness, often luring men away with song or dance to be killed or misled, stuck wandering forever. Sometimes she’s connected strongly to water, and instead of making men lost, she drowns them. Sometimes she is described as similar to an elf or fey-like creature, with characteristics related to other Huldufolk (we’ll get to them later) such as living in a parallel world, or a world Underground, and therefore preferring caves or appearing and disappearing suddenly. Sometimes she is depicted as having a hollow back, or a cow’s tail, which she hides out of embarrassment or to conceal her true identity. Which… how cute is that?

Before the 11th century, the myths were focussed more around the Huldufolk, which literally means “Hidden Folk”. There are lots of stories as to why and how the Huldufolk came to exist, but for the purpose of Elsa I think it most appropriate to look at the Christianization of the myths. Why?:

Frozen and Frozen 2 are modern movies made by an American company and Christianity is nigh untanglable with American culture, they take place in ~1840s Norway, F1 has a dedicated place of Christian congregation depicted in said movie, an official royal crowning overseen by a Christian faith leader, and the adaptation of Frozen generally comes from author Hans Christian Anderson and therefore should take his life and society into account, etc.

The Christianized myth says that one day Eve was washing her children (presumably after Cain, Abel, and Seth) in the river, when she heard God approaching. Ashamed that He would see her kids unclean, she hid the half she wasn’t done bathing, and when God asked, “Where are the other children?” Eve claimed that she had all of them present, indicating the clean ones. This gave God pause, but in the end He said, “Then let all that is Hidden, remain Hidden.” The children that Eve lied about became the Huldufolk, unable to live among humans. These people would eventually become characterized as dwarves, elves, fairies, etc., as time and interpretations rolled on, the huldra being just one of many mythical “species”.

So. Who is Elsa? She’s a:

fictional, blonde-haired, blue-eyed, fair-skinned young woman who led thousands of men wlw to wander helplessly into the dark caves and wildlands of social media with a power ballad and a jaw-dropping transformation sequence

Okay I’m joking… mostly…

In fact my interest in choosing the Hulder for Elsa lies purely outside of any romantic or sexual appeal, especially since Elsa as a character exhibits next to 0 romantic or sexual interest across two whole movies and an additional two shorts. Indeed, there’s a reason people headcanon her as either asexual, aromantic, or both! No, the reasons I chose the Hulder are:

Elsa’s name

Her upbringing

Her duty as queen, and

Her general behavior, specifically in regards to Frozen 1, as Frozen 2 Elsa is, at times, an almost completely different character

Elsa’s name was chosen very specifically by the filmmakers because it means “God is my Oath”. Oaths are binding, heavy, and invoke the maker’s or subject’s actions and personhood in the future. In Elsa’s case specifically, it invokes divine witness: perfect for a queen, someone born to rule. A promise to be fair, to uphold, to protect, to lead, to be a dignified and honorable face for the country. And Elsa was so ready to be that… except for the powers of course. Or at least, when they became something other than a magical gift of wonder and joy. When they became dangerous. Then there comes another oath, spoken to powerful creatures of magic, the Trolls, and born from parental fear: “She can learn to control it.”

Binding, heavy, invoking of Elsa’s future. As she grows, Elsa becomes closed off, quiet, hiding in her own home. She still takes her duties seriously, but now that she has been Other’d, taught to hide herself and her curse, she is just as much shadow as person. To young Anna, Elsa must have been almost ghostlike, disappearing right when Anna thought she’d cornered her, only to reappear sometime later down the hall, out of arm’s reach.

God promised Adam and Eve that their children would inherit the earth, even after leaving the Garden of Eden. Then suddenly that changed, due to Eve’s fear and shame of her unwashed children, and some would now inherit Underground, or somewhere else entirely. The lost children of Eve had become Other’d, needing to hide, disappear, and resort to inhuman tactics just to exist. Maybe they’re jealous, maybe they're just tricksters. But it’s not their fault. And it wasn’t Elsa’s either. Another reason they are similar.

Now, it’s not all doom and gloom for the Hulder, or for Elsa. While the Hulder is generally known for her more chaotic and negative attributes - just like our favorite snow queen, there’s a light at the end of the tunnel. There are a few myths that say burning a charcoal fire -instead of a coal or gas one- is most pleasing to the Hulder, that she’ll even watch over it during the night, and wake the sleepers in case something happens. If a traveler leaves supplies behind with a note or offering for the Hulder, they will travel safely. In fact, some people leave caches for her, as though to cater to specific requests. Coming across the Hulder by chance can have a multitude of outcomes, but if an astute observer spots her cow tail and mentions it, she may become shy and run away. Don’t mention the empty back though, that’s almost certain death.

Basically my point is… trade out the word “traveler” for the name “Anna” and we can draw all the similarities we want. Anna did all of those things, in a way. Anna gave Elsa a little gift of their favorite snowman every Christmas. Anna knocked on Elsa’s door and spoke to her, treated her kindly despite the distance between them, literal and metaphorical. It’s not hard to imagine that Anna left little notes around the castle, hoping Elsa would find them, read them, and know that Anna still loved her, still missed her. And, well, hopefully Anna wasn’t setting any fires and falling asleep next to them - but Anna always kept a light on for Elsa, in her heart. And it flickered and wavered sometimes, but it was a strong fire most days. And we know Elsa was always drawn to it, drawn to Anna because she loved her right back. Loved her first, even. And because it was a warmth that pleased Elsa, she tended it, quietly, carefully, warmly. Like putting a blanket over an Anna that had fallen asleep in the painting room, refusing that slice of chocolate cake so Anna could have two desserts, and listening, for hours and hours, days and days, for the sound of Anna’s glorious bonfire-like soul outside her bedroom door. Even when her secret was revealed, Elsa believed that the best way to protect Anna’s life, her flame, was to distance herself, running to a secret, special place all her own - much like the Hulder might run away back to the Underground.

And this last part’s just me, but I’d like to think that if the Hulder was treated kindly, respected, and given dignity, maybe it wouldn’t be so bad if someone came across her accidentally. That instead of being instantly drowned, or the Hulder becoming sheepish and attempting to run, it would feel recognized. It could be called by name. And instead of feeling the need to hide it’s Otherness, it could be treated as part of it, and cared for just the same. I don’t even need to be subtle here: Anna called Elsa by Name, really saw her, and reframed her darkness into light. Anna hasn’t fought God yet, but she did walk through hell and back for a sister that everyone else saw as a threat, monster, and sorcerer. A category 9 Other. Too bad for them, Anna’s got a Category 10 heart.

Speaking of. We finally got to Anna.

Anna was difficult to pin down because to me, Anna is so very, very human. That’s what makes her special! Yes, yes, you could throw any mythical creature at Anna and the fun part would be trying to make it work within her personality and characterization BUT since the question was Anna AS a mythical creature, that changes the game! The word ‘creature’ itself tends to conjure something distinctly INhuman. So I…. tried, and cheated maybe a little. Because I picked for Anna the Norse Valkyrie.

Most people know what Valkyries are so this one takes significantly less explaining. Valkyries are women that are warriors, shieldmaidens, and the hands of Odin, and they choose who lives and who dies during battle. Their chosen dead ride with them to Valhalla, while those they choose to live are usually granted honors in life. There are the darker sides of Valkyries that paint them as blood hungry maidens waiting on the sidelines before a war, singing the names of who will die with glee… but generally speaking the version of Valkyries that most people know and admire today are accurate! And thank goodness because attempting to depict Anna the other way would probably give me an ulcer.

Anna, much like the Valkyries, is a woman of valor and strength, who is perceptive, guides others, sees into people’s hearts and reveals their goodness. Valkyries are also warriors of prowess themselves, and Anna in Frozen 2 with that ice sword? We all know she was ready to use that for real. She also exemplifies traits that Valkyries both look for and have! Bravery in the face of danger: hello Marshmallow, Elsa’s own blizzard, Hans’ lethal sword strike, LIVING MOUNTAINS, and a damn collapsing.... dam. She also defends those who cannot do it themselves: saying publicly that, “My sister is not a monster… she was scared, she didn’t mean any of this,” even if that cast suspicion or doubt on herself, and the crown, as a whole. Anna knew and believed in Elsa, despite all the years and heartbreak and anger. Despite the impossible magic that literally just happened before her very eyes. Belief in character, despite appearances. And once they were reunited, Anna made every effort to stay by Elsa’s side because she STILL had that faith in her. Anna’s name means “Grace” or “of Grace”, and damn if she didn’t extend that to the person others found most unworthy, even to Elsa herself. Valkyries see what others don’t, and their decisions are final.

[Deep breath] SO! You asked for Anna and Elsa as mythical creatures. You got… a small academic paper, by social media standards xD. I intend to write a little piece about a Valkyrie who encounters the Hulder on the edges of a battlefield and… realizes she never made a choice about this particular woman. And wonders why she can’t ;). BUT I didn’t wanna leave you hanging any longer. Hope you like my choices!

Oh also, nobody asked, but Kristoff is a werebear. No research required

#there's almost 2k words to this uhhh..... eyup that's all I have to say about that #the inner academic kinda popped out #begging to be utilized after a few dusty years xD #I have links to all this stuff btw if people want them #but now I should REALLY go to bed #or I'll be slowly flame-broiled by a certain someone who is about to find out I'm awake in the worst way possible #like-redhead-probably #mythical creature au #Hulder!Elsa #Valkyrie!Anna #mythology #also yes I know I didn't stray far from Scandinavian territories for the mythical choices I couldn't help it #once I got digging into the huldra I had a hard time looking anywhere else #still I think Valkyrie fits so nicely for anna #she might as well be on irl tbh #Elsa #Anna #my writing #and yeah I'll get to a little short story bc they're so CUTE like this!!

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thecandywrites · 3 years

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Blood For Gold Part 7

So, I’m still in pain, yes that nerve is still pinched in my back which means my right hip is still numb/in A LOT of pain. But inspiration doesn’t care if the rest of my life is dumpster fire.

That’s my inspiration telling me all kinds of stuff while I was waiting for my chiropractors this week, thank god for google docs so I can write down stuff while I get tens treatments. Also, after doing some research into British currency, a crown is less than a pound, I thought it was more. so from here on out, Audra’s dowry is fifty thousand pounds, also we’re going to still be at the ball because there are some developments in the plot and some easter eggs to bury. Have fun hunting. Also all the thanks to @kriskukko for letting me run with this, it’s so fun. And thank you @punkhorse96 for your amazing feedback. It’s my life blood. Enjoy.

Blood For Gold

Part 7

At dinner you found yourself sitting next to the Dauphin Ramsey while Demsey sat across from you, Callellea on one side of him and Benyana on the other side of him with his brothers on the other sides of them as his brothers Sierge and Tzane being immediately absolutely smitten, having practically fallen for the jewel orcs already and knew that while both had been sent for their brother, that meant that they had, at least in theory, a chance with the other. But both didn’t want to admit that their preferred girl would be for Demsey, if they could get their preferred girl to go for them, the faster the better. They were falling helplessly and hopelessly for them and even as you sat across from them, you could see this.

But you could also see how Demsey, while polite and friendly, was rather unaffected by them and dare you hope? Uninterested? Surely if Demsey, by all accounts would want an orc for a wife, no finer prospects could be found in the world and they were presently on either side of him. But he was acting like they were barely aquaintances that he had no interest in getting to know better, it gave your heart a small, glimmering speck of hope that maybe, just maybe, you had a chance. His declaration that he wanted to get to know you better had given your heart to soar like an eagle, you knew there was now an obstacle in your path. The Dauphin, Ramsey. However you did get to meet Lady Whitesale and she was...a piece of work. You could tell she was used to being one of the prettiest women wherever she was, but upon meeting Calla and Bennie and having their beauty eclipse hers and once she learned that they had been invited there by the royal family and to see them both talk at length with Demsey and his brothers, much less the rest of his family, had her glowering from across the room as she soon gathered the other orc ladies within the court to “talk” and you couldn’t help but overhear them as you passed them, they were trying to find dirt on the new comers and bring up every hurtful rumor and slanderous slur about mouras out of pure jealousy and spite and now knowing the truth that Demsey didn’t like her had you feeling relieved that he didn’t because she was just...awful. But that had not stopped her from trying her luck with Calla’s and Bennie’s brothers, if only to try to pump them for information.

By dinner though, what really got your interest, was the way Calla and Bennie were treating Tzane and Sierge respectively. You knew Calla well enough that she was genuinely taken with Tzane and they were acting like long lost best friends getting reacquainted, eagerly chatting and gesturing while they tried to eat.

Bennie though, she was working Sierge practically up to a foaming froth and she was taking delight in the fact that Sierge was practically drooling over her while eating out of her hand metaphorically speaking. Bennie had a way of behaving and emoting in such a way that you would never know what she was really playing at, much less really thinking or feeling until after she played her hand, no matter the situation, a skill you had lost over the last few years but one you knew you would have to rebuild and sharpen anew if you were going to compete for Demsey’s attentions while dodging Ramsey’s.

Because, while mouras could charm crowds of thousands, if not tens or even hundreds of thousands, mouras were never more devastatingly charming and alluring than one on one. You remembered when you turned on the charm for Edward when he was the best option available to you, Edward didn’t stand a chance then, and now you could see that Sierge wouldn’t either against Bennie, she could practically get him to propose if she went at it much harder tonight. She was practically bewitching him, the same way you had bewitched Edward a lifetime ago. But such knowledge left you feeling ashamed for a behavior that had been taught to you in youth by your superiors. You had always just thought it was the moura bride way, an art form. Now it just felt as it was- dishonest.

But Calla though, she wasn’t being charming just for the sake of being charming, she was being genuine and it was like comparing bright sunshine to the light of a candle to you as you realized, no wonder the rest of the Morrigan family could barely stand you, they could tell you were disingenuous and in this moment, you couldn’t blame them for that impression. You could still blame them for the extreme actions they took after though.

“Is what you wish to retrieve from your house your moura contract my dear Audra?” Ramsey asked in marinai from a murmur into your ear as you instinctively bristled at his closeness, at feeling his hot breath on your skin almost made your skin crawl while his sister Charlotte sat on the other side of you, she was lovely, but you could tell her parents kept her purposefully naïve as most English women were at their age, but that was simply the difference in culture you supposed.

You agreed to be Ramsey’s friend, however it was almost painfully obvious that he was wanting more than friendship from you but right now, you were not inclined to give him what he wanted. But you were curious to see what he was willing to give for it. Morbidly so.

“It is, since Calla and Bennie are my friends, I wish for them to read it. I want them going into a future they might enjoy here with their eyes wide open, and not be blindsided as I was, but since I have signed the contract I can not speak of it, but nowhere is it written that I can not have other people read it.” You answered.

“There is no need. I have a copy of it at my own residence at Windsor and if you truly wish for them to read it, I can provide it for them without you having to expose your own hiding place for it, I have been going over it in detail for the last week since your coming out into society was brought to my attention, if you’ll forgive me, I only wished to do my research and upon reading it, it intrigued me, just like you do. However I have had the best moura lawyers go over it and there are so many troubling details and inconsistencies in it, that make no sense and now that I have your permission to investigate the matter further, I will do so with expedition. The Morrigans have done you wrong and while the current situation saw you some justice, more is owed to you, and if you will simply hold off in showing your friends the contract because I do not want them to get the impression that what you experienced is the norm because it absolutely isn’t, in particular the one that Richard and yourself signed, I will do everything in my power to open up every prospect for you that I can, including returning to the stables, if you so choose to return to them, but not as a bride, but as a dowager.” Ramsey offered and you softly gasped as your jaw dropped and you lost your grip on your fork and knife as they clattered on the plate which seemed to garner everyone’s attention from around you, Demsey especially seemed to pause and stare, silently asking with a look to see if you were alright while the marinai word for dowager- halmana seemed to instantly engrave itself into his mind while Bennie seemed pleased as she gave the Dauphin a giddy and excited smile of approval while Calla too seemed excited since they had been lowkey overhearing your conversation while they carried out their own.

“Dowager? How could you possibly elevate my status to that of a dowager?” You questioned as you picked up your wine glass and held the cold crystal to your burning cheeks as you could feel everyone’s gaze weigh heavily on you before you drank what remained in your glass and got it refilled.

“Oh ever so easily, because as a dowager, your own possibilities to who you can remarry would be limitless, whereas now, you may only remarry who you wish within the nobility in England, which is not necessarily that promising, otherwise you may lose what little bit of security you currently enjoy. But as a dowager, that security may be paid out to you whether you chose to get remarried or not, whether you have a hundred children by a hundred different men or not and I want to make sure that when and if you ever do decide to have children, in or even out of wedlock, that they will also be provided for. Would this please you?” Ramsey inquired, mentally dangling every carrot he could think of because while he could see Calla and Bennie work their charms on Demsey’s brothers, he knew that at any moment, they were going to turn to Demsey and Demsey, besides being spoiled for choice, will be hopeless to resist them, they were simply gaining speed and a foothold with his brothers before they went in for the kill.

But for now- Ramsey reasoned that he must tempt you into not doing anything that would ruin that before he could fully dazzle you himself. He needed to get you into a spectator state of mind, instead of a contender, that Calla and Bennie clearly were. Because once you chose him, your own dazzling charm aimed at him after you’ve taken in all of his greatest sides, then it will be seen as you trying to court him, and your choosing him since that is the only way the contract would be satisfied, it was your choice, but he had to make himself the best choice, much like Edward had done for himself.

“It would.” You tentatively answered, trying and failing to not sound weary of him.

“However I fear that if you have the power to lift me up so high, then that means you have the power to tear me down so low, lower than I am now. And I would be better off without your interference to begin with then. If anything, especially your mood or whim were to decide one way or the other. We are friends are we not? How can I give my friends, ones that I have only known for a night so much power over myself and my situation? Since you have read my contract you know that I have suffered from a power imbalance before. And this time around, I refuse to give such power to anyone, even to a friend.” You began as Bennie’s jaw dropped in almost horror at your words while Calla seemed to weigh that over as well as Demsey noticed their reactions to your words and never before had he needed to know what in the world was being said.

“Oh no, you misunderstand me completely my dear Audra, I would never dream of tearing down something I helped build up, especially you, no I would never dream of meaning you any harm, no I want to protect you from all harm, from all others and even if you chose to have nothing to do with me, I would still choose to intervene to try to get you justice, you are moura as I am moura, and there must be more protections in place for all mouras. How could I in good conscience have not just yourself but three mouras here and not have safety nets in place for all of them?” Ramsey quickly reassured you as Demsey frowned, something about what he said, you clearly took offense to. He just needed to figure out what that word meant and why you’d have a bad reaction to it.

“Then I will hold you to your word and I will wait and see how you follow through and deliver then if you can truly make myself, Calla and Bennie all dowagers, and none of us owe you anything in return and once it would or could be done, it would never be reversed for any reason, so that it would be written in stone as it were, or I will have to retract my permission.” You firmly insisted.

“Oh absolutely, I would expect nothing less.” Ramsey assured you as that seemed to satisfy you as Calla and Bennie seemed pleased with that as well.

“So how long would you prefer I wait for my friends to read my contract?” You asked.

“At least a week, but no more than a month, tops.” Ramsey suggested, figuring that was more than enough time to court you so well, you would feel inclined to return the favor of him doing all this by marrying him and your yearly thirty thousand pounds a year will go straight to his pocket along with whatever stocks and shares in the Morrigan companies will also pay out too.

“While I do trust you Ramsey, I have also learned to get everything down in writing.” You suggested.

“Of course, I shall have something for you by the end of the day tomorrow.” He readily agreed.

“So what do you want in return for such endeavors?” You asked him.

“Only that I at least have a viable spot in your heart to be able to court you properly.” Ramsey answered.

“Does or rather- would any of it hinge on me accepting your offers of courtship?” You asked.

“No, whether you chose me or not, you are royal moura, such efforts are owed whether I stand to gain anything or not.” Ramsey lied rather convincingly but you could see his falseness in his eyes.

“Then I want that also in writing and signed by the highest judges and courts in the land who can hold you accountable for it.” You proposed.

“Oh of course.” Ramsey agreed, because he doubted he would really have to follow through, you were going to be his by the end of the week, he was sure of it.

“So, since you’ve looked into my contract, have you seen the evidence of why I was deemed unfit to return to the stables?” You asked him.

“I did not need to, I read the report myself.” Ramsey reassured you.

“Then you should know that I will never again tolerate that kind of treatment. If anyone dares to mistreat me again, I will have no qualms or hesitation to fight back using whatever means necessary, laws of decorum or decency be damned.” You leveled as Demsey did his best to keep composed but he knew a threatening tone when he heard it and to hear you threaten the Dauphin was thrilling and exciting. He didn’t know what the Dauphin did to offend you but he was incredibly proud of you for returning it to the Dauphin’s face, he had to fight not to agree with whatever you were saying in marinai because he had no idea what you were saying but he was willing to bet that whatever it was, you were right about it.

“Oh of course, anyone who dares mistreat you is to court death.” Ramsey readily agreed and the victorious grin you gave him was particularly beautiful.

“Then we have an understanding, so if you will give me a piece of paper, I will write down what can be brought from my home and taken to the Windsor Palace so that I don’t have to miss any of this ball after all.” You suggested before he readily hand you his little notebook from his breast pocket and opened up to clean pages as you used the pencil from your dance card to fill out what you wanted from home.

“By the way, did you like your dress?” Ramsey asked in English as he watched you write things down, noting your gorgeous handwriting.

“I did, it had more moura touches than I was expecting.” You answered back in English as you wrote down what you wanted from home.

“Oh good, when I saw you dining with the Morrigans at the Savoy from my private box a couple of weeks ago, which is what initially piqued my curiosity and intrigued me, seeing you look like a sparkling jewel among the dreary cobble of the occupants, I inquired where you had gone that day and to find out which dressmaker you used, I couldn’t help but make sure she added more moura details, in particular more Kilani and Kalinish touches, so that you didn’t feel so divorced from your homeland. I understand that the Morrigans have done all they can in that endeavor.” Ramsey offered as Demsey nearly choked on his food as he realized that’s how Ramsey knew of his partiality to you, he saw it for himself, while also kicking himself that he didn’t think to do such a thing, he was too busy paying for his sister’s new dresses, while he also knew that such a move would probably be inappropriate, for a gentleman such as himself to do such a intimate gesture for a woman he wasn’t married to, let alone a lady in society that he was not married to, his sister Kiera would have thrown a proper fit. Demsey was only partially listening to the conversations the Czarina and the Princess were having with his brothers as he watched your own interaction with Ramsey closely, he didn’t know what you were talking about but he knew the tones of a negotiation when he heard them, but he also wondered what you were negotiating. You didn’t have any ties, at least in business to the Dauphin but his gut was screaming at him that something big just went down right in front of him and he was keen to discover what it was.

But a thought did occur to Demsey. The Dauphin knew no bounds, if he was allowed more power in the House of Lords, he would be an unstoppable political force, and the only ones to keep him in check was the royal family itself. The Dauphin was always happy to curry favor of everyone around him and was a natural political figure and even though he was connected to the royal family, he was also heavily tied with the common man and was seen as a down to earth, working man’s man even though he was born a blue blood himself. The Dauphin practically fed on popular opinion and loved to bask in the public’s adoration. But also had the ear of practically everyone in any position of authority. Including the judges and the courts. If what the Czarina had said was true, he could and most likely be talking to you about your own contract with the stables and with the Morrigans.

Demsey had actually looked into it himself, but because he didn’t have that many friends in law only because his soap business didn’t need that much involvement in it and he had little nerve for the arguing of court in the house of lords only because he was a new lord and therefore didn’t have that much sway or power other than his one little vote and would rather just stay in his office all day and do something productive. But when he tried to look into you from that aspect, he had been firmly dismissed from even looking into it and was reminded that his own hold onto his own nobility was always a delicate hold, and that to question the dealings between a moura and her stables, was too dangerous a game, even for kings.

“Are you alright Duke Demsey?” You asked him when he started coughing and sputtering while Calla and Bennie both turned and started patting his back.

“Yes, the partridge is so delicious, I tried to inhale it instead of eat it.” He answered as he beat his chest with his fist to get a normal breathing rhythm going again before taking several long pulls of wine from his glass before it was readily refilled as you also realized that your own behavior towards Demsey was also clearly observed, by the Dauphin and who knows who else and it was that- that was the reason Calla and Bennie were here. Because of you. You would have to be more careful from now on, especially at Windsor, when every servant could be Ramsey’s eyes and ears. But if the Dauphin delivered, then at least Calla could be with Tzane if she genuinely liked him as well as you could discern she did, and for that you would put up with this. But having Demsey so close for however long, would give you a chance to get to know him better too and if you could at least show him that you were interested in him, but you would have to be discrete about it, but maybe you had a chance.

After the ball, on the way to the Windsor palace Demsey sat with his brothers as they both eagerly looked out the windows of the carriage as Tzane and Sierge were bragging about their jewel orc companions and what they were eagerly looking forward to seeing of them at Windsor because their companions had talked about all the things they had wanted to do while they were there, like griffin riding and a moura’s version of sword fencing.

“Did either of you find out what halmana means?” Dempsey asked them after both of them seemed to take a breath.

“I do! It means dowager in marinai, it’s a classification for moura women. Very few moura women have that classification because it means that they can do whatever they want and marry whoever they want without anyone’s input or approval, even the stables have no authority over a dowager, in fact it’s the stables that have to listen and obey dowager moura women.” Tzane readily offered as Demsey’s eyebrows rose in surprise. Demsey was expecting it to mean something along the lines of a ‘whore’ or ‘bitch’ or something offensive like that. Not...dowager as in queen dowager, dowager empress, kind of thing.

“That doesn’t make any sense, why would Audra act like that was an insult? When the Dauphin said that to her, she...” Demsey thought aloud as he frowned and shook his head no.

“I asked Calla that and she told me that the conversation was actually about Audra’s contract with the stables and the Dauphin was telling her that he was looking into it and was going to be trying to get her that status because she is currently has the status of shakan, which means lowly outsider- one not welcome back because you have little to no value as a bride, that you’re ruined beyond repair and is the lowliest of moura’s classifications. Calla said that there was almost a revolt in Kilan, which is the prefecture, or state, county kind of thing- her family rules in Dorierra when she was branded as a shakan because she left as a nescia, which basically means princess because she has more royalty in her pedigree than our own royal family from dynasties all over the world but mainly in the middle east, her family line was one of the first original moura lines in the stables when the stables were developed. She’s as original of a moura as mouras can get and had she not married Edward, she should have married an emperor or something like that. Calla said that it would be like a prince being stripped of his nobility and royalty and branded a commoner of a foreign country, a great humiliation, since then, no other moura bride ever set foot on English soil for fear of their own standing would suffer. Calla said that the royal family had to put up an enormous sum just to get them here and make all kinds of promises that their own status would only increase if they came. Because since Audra’s demotion, the price for a moura bride to come to here has been sky high, way too high for anyone but royalty to pay, the royal family had to pay Calla and Bennie seventy five thousand pounds each, just to come here for six weeks.” Tzane explained as Demsey could only cough as if he got sucker punched in the gut as Sierge whistled lowly.

“But that doesn’t explain why Audra would be weary of such a thing being offered to her.” Demsey frowned.

“That’s because Audra pointed out to the Dauphin that if he had the power to lift her up so high, he would also have the power to bring her back down on his whim and that she would be better off having him not interfere at all much less have nothing to do with him.” Tzane revealed.

“Oh! That makes sense, that makes so much more sense now.” Demsey nodded in understanding.

“Well you got to applaud her for realizing that, most women would be so distracted by the prospect of becoming a dowager, she wouldn’t think that what could be given could be taken away just as easily, which knowing the Dauphin, is sadly a possibility. She’s smart, I’ll give her that.” Demsey nodded.

“Yeah but if she’s a lowly shakan, that doesn’t explain the Dauphin’s interest, he would think her beneath him.” Sierge argued.

“Except, Audra told me that Edward provided a living for her after his death, it must be of some great worth and her dowry of fifty thousand pounds, if he succeeded in elevating her to a dowager, not only would she be a lady of great wealth, but also that of high class. She would be, relatively speaking, perfect for him. And with his ties to the courts and to the royal family, he could push for the Morrigans to pay out her yearly allowance for the rest of her life, even when she was remarried, and if he succeeded, she would be the most eligible bachelorette in all of Europa, and the stables would even bid for her to return. It’s a gamble that’s worth the risk for the Dapuhin. Just her dowry alone could set him straight from all of his gambling debts. But the real question is, is the gamble worth it for her?” Demsey realized.

“It will be, Bennie told me that Audra negotiated for Bennie and Calla to be dowagers as well and that Audra demanded that the offer be in writing signed off by the highest judges and courts in the land, ones that would hold the Dauphin to his word and to the letter of the contract and that she didn’t owe him anything in return for his interference and that once it’s done, it can never be undone, even though the Dauphin only asked for a chance to court her in return, not that she’d say yes or accept the advances. Which for her, shows incredible insight and forethought, almost as if someone has warned of his character.” Sierge noted with an amused grin.

“You two do realize, that there’s no way this family could ever afford a moura, much less a jewel orc moura from the stables, if their fee for six weeks of their time was seventy five thousand pounds, which is three times as much as our family makes in a year, we can’t afford them.” Demsey pointed out.

“But if they become dowagers, they could, in theory, waive their fee if they really, genuinely liked us and wanted to stay with us, Calla said so herself.” Tzane pointed out as Sierge seemed pleased to hear that too.

“Why do I get the feeling that we’re in water over our heads?” Demsey asked his brothers.

“Because we probably are.” Tzane shrugged.

“Yeah, that’s why it’s a really good thing all of us can swim.” Sierge grinned triumphantly just as they were pulling up to the palace of Windsor, their family’s other carriage that had their sisters and parents ahead of them.

“True.” Demsey murmured to himself.

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girlsbtrs · 3 years

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Weird People Have Cool Role Models

Article by Ella Jarrard. Graphic by Allison Thompson.

As a highly unphotogenic person, I can honestly say that this is the first time I wish I could input a photo into my writing. I say this because I’d like all of you wonderful readers to truly grasp the picture I am about to paint for you.

I'll start this way. I was not a cool kid. I was four foot three til I was fourteen. Because of that, I rode with and carried a booster seat for the car until fourteen as well. I was a little shy, terminally unathletic, and, as a wonderful cherry on top- pretended I was a horse till 8th grade. Jumping over bus benches, hedges, and cantering (instead of running) was my preferred method of transportation- everywhere. I’d like to add that I in no way am ashamed of any of this- I miss my booster, I still get carsick without it, and I feel running consistently proves less effective than a good, brisk canter.

While this un-coolness seemed to be part of my blood, it wasn’t. My parents are cool- and I mean genuinely cool. My dad was a punk in the seventies and eighties, worked at the Minnesotan equivalent of CBGBs, seeing the starter shows of punk bands we now see on polyester shirts at department stores. He came from a bloodline of cool too- his Irish Catholic parents dabbled in being super-fans of the B52s, Janis Joplin, and early Gipsy Kings- his siblings followed as well. My mom’s first album was an ELO record, which served as a poppy base for a life filled with conflicting tastes- Led Zeppelin, New Order, Stevie Wonder. On the nights I came in early from pretending I had just won the Kentucky Derby, my parents would show me a plethora of grainy concert videos of forgotten bands from the 80s, or sit me down at dinner for a lecture on how Ice Cube defined the diss track.

It was on one of these nights that I found my first cool rolemodel. Sweaty from explaining to my dachshund how what she was doing was not, in fact, a proper horse trot, I came inside to find a movie playing- it was called The Punk Singer. There on the screen was Kathleen Hanna, frontwoman of Bikini Kill and Le Tigre, and a leading voice of the Riot Grrrl movement of the 90s. I was instantly enthralled.

It shows Hanna explaining her vision, her immense adoration for Sonic Youth’s Kim Gordon, her love of clothespin jewelry, and her dauntless reactions to male violence while onstage. Although Hanna has that kind of effortless, messy beauty one tries to repeatedly replicate, her beauty wasn’t what struck me so deeply- it was her unwillingness to succumb to unrelenting disrespect and violent threats. She spoke of dodging beer cans thrown by pseudo punks who were angry about women infiltrating the Seattle scene, and, expectedly, of how those men proved to be the least punk punk fans ever made.

In The Punk Singer, her natural intelligence oozes out of her- it seems almost blasphemous to think that anyone- whether it be the press, fellow musicians, pseudo punk fans- could doubt or disrespect her, but they did, and constantly. The Riot Grrrl movement and Bikini Kill were both horribly disrespected by publications. They consistently implied Bikini Kill and other Riot Grrrl bands were young, untalented women parading around in their underwear instead of being prolific musicians who tried to make room for women in the physical and metaphorical punk mosh pit.

My starter level reverence for Kathleen Hanna grew astronomically within the hour and twenty two minute documentary. As I sat agape my thoughts of how to distress every Gap t-shirt in my closet in time for 7th grade tomorrow swirled rapidly. Soon the sparkly slogans like “Sassy and Classy” disappeared, replaced by a blunt tip sharpie which wrote “Anarchy in the U.K”. Gone was Monte Carlo from my Netflix favorites, it was now “Who Killed Nancy?”

There comes a time in many teenagers' lives where the wardrobe turns darker, the eyeliner gets thicker and deeper into the waterline, and the presence of self ripped black tights becomes constant. Despite it being possibly embarrassing, or horribly shameful to some parents, this time is so vitally important, especially to women. I say this backed solely by my own profound experience with a badass female role model. It was vital to me.

Having an authentic, self-founded role model who finds us naturally, through pathways of shared interest- leads to further activation of our goals, aspirations and arguably, personal fulfillment. The term “self founded” is particularly vital in this role model concept. The narrowcasting of hyper feminine, largely stereotypical TV shows, movies and books where the main character is an overused archetype meant to define the female psyche, is damaging and polarizing to young women and gender diverse people everywhere. When one doesn’t fit into this stereotype, the stereotype often being thin, white, and secretly immensely privileged, one’s sense of self instantly becomes uncertain. Being prescribed a role model crafted by (most likely) all white men sitting in a writers room at Disney channel isn't what young women and gender diverse people need- they need to find someone who identifies with them deeply, who shows what they could become, someone who fulfills our future ambition just by being their cool, untamed selves.

Finding Kathleen Hanna was vital to me and my future. I no longer felt shy, no longer was embarrassed by my kind of dorky ‘horse’ habit, and felt much more inclined to express myself with music, art, and interests that weren’t widely shared among my peers. I loved hearing a young woman like Hanna be loud, and instantly wanted to start announcing myself like Bikini Kill did in the beginning of their songs. I could combine interests like Hanna did with her passion in third wave feminism and her love with punk, and be comfortable knowing all of my interests were valid and correctly placed- horseback riding at stuffy equestrian centers was now accompanied by a perpetual soundtrack of the Sex Pistols, The Clash (much to my dad’s delight) and The Damned.

Looking back on my childhood now is like watching slides of different phases pass quickly, old interests vanished and were replaced by my big new thing. I feel proud of that, and as much as I am deeply embarrassed of some parts- like when I made my friends call me Ellore instead of Ella during my punk stage- a time they never have let me forget- I feel like each phase and role model is still deeply embedded in my soul. Kathleen Hanna made me who I am- I’d be nowhere as comfortable with myself and with my strong, unrelenting opinions without her and her strength in the RiotGrrrl movement. I never saw myself within the role models prescribed to me as a young girl, and it made me feel so deeply confused as to whether I was doing the whole preteen girl thing right.

I saw myself in Kathleen Hanna. I saw in her what I wanted to be, I saw in her what I wanted to say and fight for, and through that- I began to see myself.

#ella jarrard

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watchathon · 4 years

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Stitch Day Special: Lilo & Stitch

In case you’re finding this post just by browsing the tags I’ve used for this post, this is the Watch-a-Thon, a blog where I’m hoping to watch an episode of a show every one-to-two days, with a short blog post where I give my thoughts on what I’ve just seen. Each new point starts with a hyphen and a bolded first word.

- Like so.

But today? Well, today I’ve got an extra-special post in the wings about a movie, one of my favorite Disney movies, starring my absolute favorite Disney character: Lilo & Stitch!

- I like the variation on the Disney logo. That is the kind of stuff that they just couldn’t do with their new big fancy CGI logo.

- No clue why Jumba tried to deny that he created an experiment. I don’t much mind since it led to a funny joke, but c’mon, evil genius, you should be smart enough to plead guilty.

- “I would never, ever... make more than one.” *glances meaningfully in the direction of the series*

- “What is that monstrosity...?” He’s a cute widdle fluffball, that’s what he is!

- “Meega nala kweesta!” Canonically, this translates to “I want to destroy”, but that seems a little lukewarm for the reaction he got. Maybe a looser translation is in order...

There could be an entire aristocrats joke in those three words. The whole script to Batman v Superman. The opening notes to “Never Gonna Give You Up”...

Or maybe just “bitch”.

- Blood work is a lot different in space...

- Weird to imagine given the rest of the franchise, but Gantu was once a respected captain of the galactic federation.

- It’s easy to perceive Stitch as a dumb brute, but he’s pretty smart. He connected the dots all on his own, within minutes of his imprisonment, that if the guns are locked onto his DNA, he can use his saliva to trick them. Jumba wasn’t kidding when he boasted of his experiment’s intelligence.

- And not only was Gantu a captain, Pleakley was an expert on the planet Earth. Weird, innit...?

- “Are [humans] intelligent?” “No.” An exchange that only hurts more with every year.

- Love the implication that Pleakley was just suggesting several different relatives to assist with the capture of Stitch from when they were on the deck up until they got to the prison where Jumba was held.

- Now this is what we (or rather TVTropes) call an establishing character moment. A fish floats by holding a sandwich in its mouth, implying (soon confirming) that Lilo was the one to give it the sandwich, before rushing to the hula practice that she was late for, stopping to take a picture of a tourist along the way.

- And then after she arrives at hula practice, she explains that she had to give Pudge the fish a peanut butter sandwich because he controls the weather.

- No clue why the other girls are disgusted by Scrump. I always wanted a Scrump when I was a little lass.

- “Did you ever kill anyone?” Lilo asks the right questions.

- Nani, y’could’ve avoided this if you’d given a thumbs up instead...

- I don’t get the glare Cobra gives Nani after Lilo says that her friends need to be punished. Voodoo isn’t a failure of parenting. In many cases, at least...

- Licking Nani, growling after her capture, Lilo already has a lot in common with Stitch.

- Lucky that Lilo is such a quirky kid. The scene (semi-)explaining why she takes pictures of tourists was deleted, but it doesn’t feel like anything is missing because she already has a few habits that just plain inexplicable, like feeding Pudge, practicing voodoo with a pickle jar...

- Lilo wishing for an angel because of how lonely she is, that’s a sad moment. But also kinda funny in hindsight after she sarcastically names Stitch’s love interest Angel in the series.

- Lord give me the undisturbed...ness, of that frog who watched Stitch get run over by several trucks and only tilted its head.

- If they thought Stitch was dead, why did they keep it in the shelter? I mean, Lilo would probably adopt a dead dog, but she’s the outlier.

- I like how Jumba programmed, as part of Stitch’s destructive tendencies, an urge to steal everybody’s left shoe.

- You can just about pinpoint the moment where Stitch’s heart drops at learning that he’s on an island with no major cities.

- Just occurred to me that the badness level is red, and Stitch’s evil counterparts in the series (627 and Leroy) are both red.

- Ah, David. One of the best Disney love interests, mostly because he isn’t entirely a love interest. There is a mutual attraction, but Nani just isn’t ready for that with everything going on in her life, and David respects that and is happy to be a friend.

- I like how everyone except Lilo heavily suspects that Stitch isn’t a dog.

- Ohhh, the thought of Stitch having drank coffee. I mean, I’d love to see it, but it’d be Hell for Nani.

- Stitch looks just plain adorable with a lei.

- Well, Lilo, you did tell Stitch he should create something. And he did, he just destroyed his creation afterward.

- Pleakley is a gender-nonconforming icon.

- The first time we see Stitch doing something without even the intention of destroying anything is when he finds the book about the Ugly Duckling. It’s clear that he’s fascinated just by looking at it. And when Lilo explains the story? It resonates with him. Or, well, perhaps he wants it to resonate with him.

- I wish I had an evil koala dog that played records.

- Are we sure that “Meega nala kweesta” means “I want to destroy”? Maybe it means “I was born to dance”, ‘cause Stitch learns about dancing and in less than a minute he’s already an expert.

- I imagine this montage, or slightly earlier, would be when that deleted scene of Lilo trolling the obnoxious racist tourists originally came into play. And I like this scene, but, I do wish that scene hadn’t gotten cut. And I wish that they fully animated it and inserted it into the movie like Warner Bros did with The Iron Giant.

- Nothing cheers me up more than this scene of Stitch and his newfound family going surfing. And especially since Stitch is aquaphobic. He’s very much aware that he cannot swim, and likely wouldn’t survive if he fell off the board into the ocean. But even he eventually gets into the spirit of it, asks Lilo himself to go surfing, and enjoys a nice bonding moment with his family. And David.

- Of course Jumba and Pleakley had to ruin a perfectly sweet moment.

- And so we transition from a heartwarming wholesome moment, to a heartbreaking tearful moment. You can just see Nani holding back tears as she says that she needs to take Lilo home.

As for Stitch, David probably didn’t even realize that Stitch could understand him when he said that Lilo and Nani had a chance until Stitch came along. But Stitch did understand, and he’s visibly hurt by the idea. He always wanted to destroy, but in this moment, he’s ashamed of how he might have destroyed Lilo’s family.

- And the Ugly Ducking metaphor comes back, when in this moment, as Stitch is coming back to a family that he fears he may have ruined, he sees a lone duck... before that duck is followed by a big family of ducklings.

- Lilo says that Stitch cries at night. So, it would seem that even before he completely learned how to be nice, Stitch wasn’t entirely emotionless.

- This whole act of the film is heart-wrenching. First Nani gets confirmation that she and Lilo will be separated, then Stitch starts to fear that he may have caused it. Then because of that? Stitch leaves, taking only the Ugly Duckling book with him. And he can only see in himself the page of the Duckling, lost and crying.

- Then Jumba tells Stitch, who’s already in a bad place emotionally, that he was made to destroy, has no family, and could never have one.

- I don’t want to think about what happened to that chainsaw.

- There’s a certain feeling that comes up in the middle of this fight scene, where you realize that a house is being destroyed, a house belonging to a family that was very much at risk of separation. And you realize that this will only hurt their case beyond any repair.

- If the past day hadn’t been bad enough, Stitch is told by his best friend Lilo that he ruined everything, and to get away.

- And so Nani really does have her sister taken away. Now, taken away by aliens is a lot different than taken away by social services. It’s worse. This way Nani knows that Lilo definitely won’t get a loving family, and Nani will definitely never see her again.

- The confusion is visible on Jumba and Pleakley when Stitch goes and comforts Nani with a quote about family. All they know about Stitch is that he was made to destroy. And then, once he’s captured, he does just about the opposite.

- “Ih.” To this day I sometimes say Ih on reflex when asked a yes-or-no question. Guess I watched this movie way too many times as a kid, huh? ...I regret nothing.

- Originally, the big red plane-looking thing was supposed to just be a plane, and it would’ve flown through a city. And it was changed because it was too soon after 9/11. But me personally, I think the big red thing is real cool, and I like it flying through the valleys.

- “Stitch is unconscious.” I like that Jumba calls Stitch by his name here. In the series, he always calls Stitch “626″ but his name is Stitch. And I like the rare occasion when that’s respected by the mad genius who created him.

- I want to believe that Stitch dodged that laser for the sake of the frog he was holding more than for his own sake. Stitch is strong enough that a few moments later, he survives an explosion of a whole truck that he’s lying on top of.

- Stitch proudly calling himself “cute and fluffy” is another thing I just love. Might be reading too much into it, but I like that he can call himself by those descriptors and still have total confidence in his ability to kick Gantu’s patookie.

- My favorite scene in the movie, and the scene I took the picture from.

Stitch corrects the Grand Councilwoman about his name. And when he’s told that he needs to go in the ship (the implication being that he’ll be punished like he was meant to be at the beginning), he doesn’t rebel or try to escape. He only politely asks that he be allowed to say goodbye.

He explains that his family is “little and broken, but still good”, both explaining it to the councilwoman and reassuring Lilo and Nani.

This is the ultimate display of how Stitch has grown. And he grew because, despite what Jumba said, Stitch could find, and did find, the one true place he belonged: With a good, loving family.

- The Grand Councilwoman is clearly remorseful that they’ll have to separate Stitch from his family, but she can’t bend the law for this one case. And she doesn’t, but it just so happens that, legally speaking, Lilo owns Stitch. And, well, what self-respecting Grand Councilwoman would steal a child’s property?

- A lot of people (including middle-school me) say that the stuff with Stitch and the aliens get in the way of the story of Lilo and Nani. I disagree. These two stories are intertwined, both about people wanting to stay with the family where they know they belong. I just couldn’t, at all, imagine one without the other.

- Now this is the kind of ending I love. It’s become common for animated movies, sequels in particular, to end on the two main characters getting separated. But here? Stitch is now a definitive part of the family, and won’t be separated from them anytime soon. Anime? What anime?

FINAL THOUGHTS:

I guess I’ll be doing this on the rare occasion I cover movies...?

Anyway, this is a great movie. A modern classic. And one of very few things that doesn’t just hold up from when I was a kid, it gets better. When I was a tiny kid, I was only interested in the space aliens. When I was in my early teens, I thought the aliens were kiddy stuff.

But nowadays, I can truly appreciate it. I can appreciate how both aspects are vital to the movie. Lilo and Stitch are both equally important. You can’t have one without the other.

And most of all, I can appreciate the story of Stitch (as well as Jumba and Pleakley) finding a family, and Lilo (as well as Nani) saving theirs from being torn apart.

Lilo & Stitch brings me to tears of both joy and sadness every time I watch it. And I guarantee I’ll be watching it many more times in the future.

...Does it still count as a Stitch Day special if I’m posting after midnight? No, probably not. I thought I’d only take two hours, then I took four and a half. Guess that means I had more thoughts than I thought I did!

#Lilo and Stitch #Lilo & Stitch #language #Jumba Jookiba #Stitch #Experiment 626 #Captain Gantu #Wendy Pleakley #Lilo Pelekai #Scrump #Nani Pelekai #Cobra Bubbles #David Kawena #Grand Councilwoman #long post #my new best post yet #Movie

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