#anyway yes of course women have many callings other than motherhood!

[postmodernmulticoloredcloak]

Fantasies, dreams and desires, ideas of normalcy and fears of difference. A slightly queer reading of 15x14

Mrs Butters is a delightful character who is built to parallel so many things in the show. She occupies perfectly the semantic sphere that the narrative has crafted around Dean’s desires; also, you know, cake.

We could talk for days about the significance of food and drink in Supernatural. One of the biggest themes that run through the entire show is hunger (or thirst) and food is very often a symbol for an emotional need of sorts. Supernatural draws a lot folklore, and human stories have always used symbologies that put together food, desire, love, sex, family, goodness and darkness and all those human experiences.

We have discussed the shit out of every instance of food in the show, analyzed parallels to other stories and fairytales, scrutinized queer-codings and subtexts, got called nasty names by impolite people accusing us of saying that a slice of baked good means Dean likes sitting on dicks. So, yeah, I’m not gonna start explaining everything from the beginning. Let’s jump to the parallels.

- The comfort food. Motherhood, hugs, and the past that can never return: the ideal of childhood and the 50s fantasy

We’ve already talked about how Mrs Butters functions as a parallel to Mary and a symbol of the ideal motherhood that both Mary and Dean struggled with. In Dark Side Of The Moon, we see a memory from Dean’s childhood, where we learn that Mary would cut off the crusts off his sandwiches. Mrs Butters also says that she cut the crusts off, establishing a direct parallel to Dean’s ideal of childhood and child-parent relationship. Or, we should say, as both Mary’s and Dean’s ideals of a child-parent relationship, because we know that Mary set up her life with John and the kids as an elaborate “scene” according to her idea-slash-fantasy of the perfect safe life.

She strugged with that, because her ideal life could never match with reality - she had loose ends from hunting to deal with, she at some level liked having those loose ends to deal with because as much as she hated the hunting life and craved for safety and “normalcy” that was still something she was in her element doing, probably more than the perfect housewife role. Of course when she came back she attempted to recreate the scene but quickly discovered that it was impossible and dropped all attempts to do so, embracing the opposite, or at least what she perceived as the opposite (having a pretty dualistic view of hunting life-domestic life where they cannot be reconciled).

Dean, on the other hand, started out with a similar dualistic view, figuring that he’d always belong to the hunting world and could never have the domestic, “normal” thing at all, embracing his “freakness” as opposed to the concept of normalcy represented by civilians, by the middle class, by the suburbs, by the apple pie, white fence life (insert heavy queer subtext here). And yet there was always an ambiguity with him (again, he’s never one-or-the-other, he’s always both), because, while on the surface he embraces this rebellious, devil-may-care persona, that’s not quite what he is as a full individual. He grew up essentially a housewife from a very early age, has a very caregiving personality, and thrives in taking care of others.

Dean is both Mrs Butters and Mary, where the difference between him and Mary is that Mary couldn’t (didn’t have the time, support, resources?) reconcile parts of her that Dean instead was able to (and in fact recently helped her with: before dying, she’d reached a pretty healthy balance of living her own life as a hunter and having a warm relationship with her sons, at least as healthy as it can get in that kind of circumstances).

Another important parallel to Dark Side Of The Moon, borrowed by Scoobynatural, is the nightgown that feels like being wrapped in hugs: we are reminded of Dean’s “I wuv hugz” from when he was a kid, a symbol for his early life of affection and safety that he lost with his mother. Childhood hugs, comfort food, loving gestures like cutting off the crusts are all symbols of a past that cannot return.

On a level, from a “coming-of-age story” perspective, childhood, with its innocence and perception that adults will always keep us safe, is obviously something that everyone needs to accept as something that belongs to the past and cannot return, to embrace instead the responsibilities and risks of adulthood in a healthy way. In a sense, Dean needs to go through all these steps - acknowledging that his mother was a flawed person, that in fact both of his parents were flawed people who made mistakes but he can forgive them for his own sake in order to be able to let go of trauma and carry on... - to become a healthy adult able to be a good parent to his own child.

(There’s also the cholesterol thing - Mrs Butters chastizes Dean for his diet, but we know that there’s a depth to Dean’s diet, not only his extreme appreciation of food due to experiencing food scarcity and insecurity as a child, but also the memory of his mother’s comfort food, such as the “Winchester surprise”, a monstrosity of meat and cheese. While the “meat man” persona would appear on the surface as a sterotypical masculinity thing, it has layers, in a typical Dean fashion... not coincidentally, in the latest episode he calls himself the meat man while wearing an apron that we’re told he’s very fond of, painting him, again, in a mixture of different meanings, masculinity and femininity, fatherhood and motherhood, devil-may-care attitude and caregiver attitude.)

On another level, a more political level, there’s the 50s fantasy element. We all know the significance of the idealization of the post-war period as the “good ol’ times” in American culture, and it’s an ideal that Mary definitely drew from when she built her perfect life with her family. Mrs Butters represents this in a very literal way, being literally from 1958 when she “froze” herself, and acts as a very stereotyped governess for a bunch of men that feel like they are above housework, what is considered women’s work. Dean initially comments “how progressive”, knowing exactly how bullshit these conversative ideals are, but then appreciates the comforts of the perfect caretaker.

In fact, Dean’s “giving in” to the comforts of a governess makes me think of that famous feminist manifesto “I want a wife” by Judy Syfers... because housework is very much Dean’s work in the bunker. It’s interesting that Mrs Butters immediately comments negatively on the cleanness of the bunker and their clothes: we know that Dean cleans and washes, and, while it’s likely that he cannot keep everything super perfect like a governess would because he’s busy doing many other things, it’s a way Mrs Butters uses to establish roles that she knows and is comfortable with. She is used to being the one who does “feminine” work while the Men of Letters have absolutely zero skills in that regard, and doesn’t really even stop to question if that’s the case with the men in front of her.

Anyway, let’s go back to the 50s fantasy. The show has repeatedly made commentaries on the vacuity of it. Peace Of Mind is the most obvious instance, but there’s plenty of subtext in the show that deals with that typically American aspect. Just like the childhood aspect, the narrative tells us that the “good ol’ times” are also an idealized thing that cannot return (if it ever existed, because Dean’s childhood was built on a fantasy, and the “good ol’ times” are also a fantasy, because the real 50s were horrible for anyone who didn’t swim in privilege). Mrs Butters cannot stay, the 50s fantasy-slash-childhood fantasy cannot last, and Dean embraces his role as an adult-slash-modern housemaker. Blah blah gender, blah blah cake. (Yeah, sorry, but you can fill in the blanks.)

- The contaminated drink. Poison and weakness from the forbidden sexual desire to the forbidden family domesticity

Aaaand now the second branch of parallels that Mrs Butters pinged on my radar, which sends us in an even more queer-subtext-heavy territory. We’re going to talk about the smoothies and the tomato juice. Yes, I know, the smoothies are given to Jack, not Dean, but symbolically Dean and Jack share the same semantic area; both are given a magically conjured drink, and both end up locked away waiting to be killed. For this analysis, they basically overlap.

Let’s start with the tomato juice. I don’t think that it’s a coincidence that Dean is given something that visually reminds of the blood the vampires drink. The tomato juice is a stand-in for blood, and blood in relation to vampirism has a long history of subtext in the show that connects to sexuality, sex, sexual fears and contamination. While vampires are not necessarily always invested of those meanings every single time they appear in the three-hundred-whatever episodes of the show, their main symbology is connected to sex and sexual fears, as vampires do in modern western literature, after all.

You’re probably going to think, wait, what? What has Mrs Butters got to do with sexual fears? Yeah, I know, it sounds weird, but hear me out.

The tomato juice - a stand-in for blood, with a vampire reference - parallels Mrs Butters (who represents trauma, remember) to 6x05 Live Free Or TwiHard. Sexual assault, blood, contamination via the poisoning liquid.

Next to the tomato juice there’s the smoothie. It’s a poison in disguise, a contaminated drink that makes Jack weak. We have, in fact, a pattern of Dean being given contaminated drinks that place him under another’s power. Not just the vampire’s blood, but also Jeremy from 3x10 Dream A Little Dream Of Me, who offers Dean a beer through which he connects him to his dreams. There’s Nick the siren from 4x14 Sex And Violence, who contaminates Dean through the flask. The venom in the siren’s saliva parallels straight to the gorgon Noah in 14x14 Ouroboros, and I don’t have to start explaining what all those things represent, right? (I have written posts about these things, it would be nice if tumblr didn’t suck and showed them to me when I go look for them.)

(Oh, there’s also Crowley’s human blood addiction, which is not, as one might expect, a parallel to Sam’s demon blood addition, but Dean’s First Blade/Mark Of Cain issue, and the First Blade/Mark Of Cain arc is all imbued by the queer subtext of the Dean-Crowley-Castiel triangle.)

Basically, Mrs Butters is inserted in a history of queer subtext, although it appears as obvious that Mrs Butters hardly represents homosexual desire, unless we go a pretty stretchy route of her occupying Cas’ space in the Dean-Sam-Cas-Jack family (I mean, that’s true, but it’s not simply that). It is also true that Mrs Butters represents Cuthbert Sinclair, and here the radar pings, because Cuthbert Sinclair is totally inside the pattern! He wanted to make Dean part of his collection just like the vampire in 6x05 wanted to make Dean part of his pack, with supernatural means of exorting control over Dean and heavy heavy rapey tones. (I know we don’t like to talk about this, but the show does play with incest subtext, John mirrors are often rapey.)

So, we have all this semantic area of poison, weakness and submission to external control painted in overtones of sexual assault and sexual fears especially in relation to homosexual desire. (I am NOT linking homosexual desire to sexual assult, nor the show is, it’s a wide and volatile semantic area where the common denominator is fear, fear of being hurt FOR being different sexually, it’s about vulnerability because of being different. It’s a horror narrative, guys, remember, queer fear is a recurrent theme in the genre. Dracula was about the horror of what happened to Oscar Wilde, we’re running in circles.)

Now, what kind of fear is explored in 15x14? Well, the episode is about the fear of losing family. The plot is about Dean’s feelings towards Jack after he killed Mary. Dean doesn’t know it yet, but he’s going to lose Cas soon also because of Jack. Mary and Cas are both very noisy absences in the episode, and we know that Dean is going to suffer something horrific again that will shatter his family again. This goes past the fears regarding forbidden sexual desire: we’re in the territory of forbidden familial desire, so to speak, Dean’s craving for a domestic peace with his family.

Jack is both the culmination of Dean’s process of family-building, as the son figure of the family, and the element of destruction of that family-building. Not a coincidence Jack’s birthday was referenced, as Jack’s birth coincided with Cas’ death and Mary’s supposed death or at least separation. Now Jack has supposedly killed Mary (or is it a inter-universe separation again? @drsilverfish​’s theory always pops up, and we keep getting reminded of other universes - the telescope is broken...) and we know that Cas’ ultimate death hangs above us.

We’re always running in a spiral, Dean’s relationship with Mary, Dean’s relationship with Cas, Dean’s relationship with motherhood and gender roles, Dean’s relationship with sexuality. There’s a big picture of mirrors in the semantic area of fantasies, idealizations, desires and dreams. I hope I managed to make this post make sense, but I’m always open to requests of clarification or elaboration. Thanks for reading!

#my spn thoughts #spn meta #spn 15x14 #queer subtext #dean and femininity #dean and masculinity #dean and food #dean and mary #dean and childhood #dean and sexuality #dean and family #spn

[todaviia]

"#like theres serious harm done by the modern western concept of adoption#that basically depends on acting like all the childs biological ties dont exist anymore" Is that so?? ("modern"?!) I don't have much insight or overview into the subject, but I do know a few children who were adopted (and a few in foster families), for them that's not true at all! Both concerning relations with the birth mothers and in the one international adoption story I know, ties to the country of origin (Russia, in this case) - the "new" parents put a lot of effort in, I just had to reply to that...

I mean I mostly know the legal situation in Germany, and yes, adoption in its current form was introduced in 1976. Before that, adoption didn't affect the family ties for example. This was because historically, most adoptions took place between adults - for most people, their children were supposed to be the ones taking care of you in old age, so if you didn't have kids, you were kind of fucked (there was actually a minimum age of 50 years for anyone willing to adopt another person). Also, sometimes compan, owners/noble families who didn't have heirs used it.

For kids, it was usually handled the way that post described - the nuclear family as the primary caretaker of children is a recent-ish invention anyway and it was very common for kids to live with relatives/friends when the parents were unable to care for them either temporarily or permanently. As families were usually bigger than they are today, this worked out for most cases, the others usually ended up in orphanages or state institutions.

The idea that parenthood is something that primarily describes a mental (or legal!) connection is very recent too. For example until a few years ago, motherhood was established solely through giving birth. Whether the mother was willing to care for the child afterwards didn't matter - she was still the mother. Again, this didn't mean the kid couldn't have different caretakers, even ones they were closer to emotionally than the mother. But that wasn't the mother.

When it comes to the modern adoption thing, I think the root of the problem is also that there's been recently a switch in the thinking of adoption as something that is a "hassle-free alternative" to giving birth which it really isn't. That's why so many people who want to adopt want to adopt babies - they think babies come without strings attached and can therefore be indistinguishable from one's own biological children. (Though there's also step child adoption which is quite common, slightly different but also very modern - the idea that a father could be replaced by another man in the legal father role was basically unthinkable 100 years ago).

The other part is that in a society where women have access to birth control and social services, the amount of babies given up for adoption is absolutely tiny. Of course there's always exceptions and people shouldn't be shamed for that, but it's very, very rare that parents want to give up their children voluntarily and permanently. That's why in most industrialised nations, there's way more people looking to adopt than children up for adoption.

This is where international adoption comes in (and surrogate pregnancy which is illegal and therefore very rare in Germany - also even worse imo. Like tbh anyone who pays for that should be shot). The problem is that in many of the original communities where the kids come from, the view is still like it used to be here too. Many of the institutions that adopt out while calling themselves "orphanages" don't just or even primarily house orphans - they're also for children are alive but unable to care for them. There's also hospitals putting pressure on parents to give their newborns up for adoption (parents in the West pay multiple 10.000s € for international adoptions). Often the parents in question believe that they will see their kids again or that their kids will only grow up in better circumstances abroad, but then return to care for them.

Just to make it clear I don't have a problem with caring for other people's children, it's a natural human instinct and morally obviously correct. The problem I have (and that I see other people including adoptees and their original communities suffer from) is the severing of the ties to the children's original families and communities when the child is too young to decide about it for themselves. This doesn't even just mean parents (when you lose your family ties, you don't just lose them to parents - you're also separated from siblings, grandparents etc) and that's when we're not looking at instances where kids were deliberately stolen for example on racist grounds (like Lebensborn). In my opinion, foster systems where the birth parents are encouraged to take whatever role they're comfortable with in the child's life are pretty much always preferable to adoption.

[geminimoonbeamx]

Oh, Baby: Chapter One

A/N: Okay so I’ve literally had this in my drafts for the last...six months or so? And I figured I’d tweak it and edit and post it since I’ve been so AWOL on this site lately, and so that I can give you guys some new content from me.

Word Count: 3k+

Warnings: Heavy cursing. This chapter is pretty PG, talks of mental illness, unexpected pregnancy and contemplating abortion- but she doesnt go through with it. Smut to come. AND LOTS OF FLUFF TOO, I promise lol

Summary: After a drunken night, Y/N finds herself having to face the biggest decision of her life; is she ready for motherhood? And a better question, is Bucky Barnes, her long time friend and womanizer extraordinaire, ready for fatherhood? They’ll just have to go along for the ride and find out together. A Bucky Barnes x Plus Size Reader Story 

Chapter 1/6: The Baby Woe’s and Oh No’s

You knew it.

You’d known something was off, different, changed.

You sit on your toilet, your world spinning as you attempt to wrap your mind around what was going on. Everything seems sludge like, too slow and too fast and not real.

You’re definitely going into shock, you point out to yourself. The catatonic kind. You’ve been staring at the bright, sunny lemon print of the shower curtain, your eyes focused but not seeing. Your elbows rest on your knees and your hands cover the entirety of your lower face.

At least you’re not crying anymore. 

Nope, your body had moved past that-Maybe, it felt like the tears could start rolling again at anytime.

Oh god, what are you going to do?

Why, why, why?

Why you? You’d been a good person- well a decent person at least… You recycled and tipped more than twenty percent. Didnt vote for Trump and ate your vegetables.

And your life was just seeming to even out. You’d somehow landed your dream job a couple months back- every Wednesday night your voice could be heard on WNEX. You we’re making enough money to finally be comfortable- doing what you loved. Gaining a wide audience and wiggling your way into the industry. Your mind was so career oriented, so focused on your end goal that you’d never even considered something like this.

Throwing a big fat wrench in the gears.

One night, it had only been one stupid, drunken night. Hadn't you racked up enough karma coins to cover your ass for one fucking night?

Are you there god? It’s me, Y/N, and I really fucked up this time.

Wanda comes back into the tiled room a few minutes, her dark features soft and a colorful mug in her hand.

“Are you okay?” She gauges, gently, as she reaches out to you.

You snort and shrug, but accept the steaming cup from her anyway. You look down at the swirling, murky drink.

Wishing for just one moment that you could drown yourself in it.

“Look, babe, I know you’re dealing with some major shock right now- but maybe you should go lay down. We’ll figure it out later-” Wanda’s voice is even and you appreciate her being so calm and sure during all of this but you just can't process the situation enough to accept it.

You can't go lay down.

“Why not?” Wanda questions and you didn't realize you’d said that out loud, you hadn't even felt your mouth form the words.

Your head really is swimming. Disconnected from your body a little bit. You force yourself to take a drink of the tea as she gives you a more pointed look.

“Because I have to- I don't know. I have to figure all this out” You protest. You can't hear your voice, how spiked with anxiousness it is.

“There’s not much to figure out” Wanda supplies, unhelpfully as she leans against the counter, arms folded over her chest and you give her a look that’s half between a glare and a gape.

“Um, what the fuck do you mean? There’s so much to figure out, I don't even know where to start” You give a short, sharp, slightly hysterical laugh gripping the mug hard enough to hurt with one hand while cupping your forehead with the other.

“Okay, first things first. And this is the big one: do you want this?”

Well, that whole ‘I'm done crying’ thought you’d had before was a lie. You feel the tears well up once more and overflow, spill down your already swollen cheeks. Your face is hot. Your tummy is full of rocks.

You’d always hated crying. It never made you feel released or freed or lighter like it did for other people. It made you feel icky and stupid. And afterwards it always felt like you’d gotten punched in the nose.

Yes, you did have a therapist to work out those issues with, thanks.

Your mind doesn't know what to do with that question.

You look at Wanda, searching her face as though she might have the answers but she just shook her head and reached out her hand to rub your shoulder. That’s all she could offer. Her support in whatever path you we’re about to embark on.

And then you look down, at the countertop. That was usually littered with stray tubes of mascara or straightening irons. Bobby pins and half lit candles. All the things that resided in the bathrooms of girls in their mid twenties.

In place of those was now four pregnancy tests. All of which read positive.

The first two had been those double lined ones. Two bold lines- both times. Then you’d ran down to the bodega at the end of the block and gotten two more. And those we’re more straight to the point. They literally read the word pregnant- in a font that you don't think you’d ever forget.

Did you want this? Did you want a baby?

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

“I dont know- I’m not ready. The timing is all wrong” You croak.

“Okay” Wanda coo’s “well there's alternatives then-” you squeeze your eyes closed at that thought “Either way we should make a doctors appointment to make sure you’re actually pregnant. I’ve read so many stories about how unreliable these things are”

She holds up one of the tests and rambles on about all of the online articles she’d come across. How some woman had taken a dozen of ‘em, gotten all positive results and then went in and had an empty uterus.

“For one, ew. I peed on that” You nod your head at the test in her hand and she rolls her eyes.

“Other side of it- and I held your hair when you got food poisoning from that shrimp shack. I’ve come into contact with worse body fluids of yours”

“For two- I’m pregnant. I know it. I’ve known it for weeks. I knew something was wrong and I just tried to...think it away, you know? Out of sight, out of mind? I sound insane” saying the words out loud makes you realize how...ludicrous those thoughts had been. But still. It was the truth.

She just nods though “You don't”

There’s a moment of silence. Stretching, as you stew in your reality.

“I’d be doing it alone” you whisper into the mug as you sip on it “I really dont think he’d want a baby”

“You would never be alone, you know that. You have so many people in your life that would support you with this” Wanda protests, sad that you’d even say that.

“You know what I mean” You push on. Because having a good group of friends and family wouldn't change the fact that you were possibly looking at the possibility of being a single mother.

If you decided to keep it, that is.

“Yeah I do- and I don't know if I agree with that. Bucky's a lot of things, an arrogant asshole at that top of that list, but he’s a good guy and I think he’d want to be involved. He doesn't give off deadbeat dad vibes”

All of that was true. Bucky is a good guy, at the core of him.

He was kind and decent and the two of you had been friends for years upon years. He was charming, magnetic and women loved him- you’d found it amusing, before you we’re the one in his bed after a drunken night a month ago.

He’d left your messages mostly on seen since then. You’d only sent a few, but still that had stung. Him icing you out the moment he’d gotten into your pants pissed you off, not only because it was rude but because it was expected.

You knew how Bucky was with women, it had been such an idiot move to sleep with him.

It made it all the more complicated that you ran in the same social circles- had all the same friends. Sam’s small promotion dinner a couple weeks ago had been extremely awkward for you, to say the least.

He’d earned himself the cold shoulder from you and no matter how many times he’d try to broach a conversation with you, crack a joke in your direction, or single you out in a group conversation you pretended he didn't exist.

“Damn, re-jec-ted” It had been so obvious that Clint had of course pointed it out, which was uncomfortable but expected because Clint had no filter like that.

Bucky had stopped trying after that- and started flirting back with the waitress that had been throwing herself at him throughout the night. You cut out early, claiming tiredness. And upset stomach. Whatever to get you out of there.

To say it was a shitty night was a bit of an understatement and you hadn't spoken one word to him since.

“I haven't talked to him since that night- and now I’m what, supposed to call him up and tell him I’m carrying his child because he doesn't properly know how to operate a condom?

“I don't know, yeah? It doesn't mean you two need to get married, but if you choose to keep this baby, that’s going to be a conversation you’re going to have to have” Wanda is so annoying sometimes. She was such a sharp thinking human- always grounded and level headed. She claimed it was from always having to be the “good twin” growing up.

Of course she was rationalizing this whole thing while you we’re floundering about it like a fish.

“I think I should make a doctors appointment” You just mutter. You’d rather focus your attention there. It was easier, cleaner for you. A goal you could actually accomplish.

And so that’s what you did.

//////

They were able to get you in at the end of the week, which in overpopulated New York City was a godsend. And still, it felt like far too long. Like the reality of it couldn't sink in until you talked to a medical professional so you we’re left in some kind of fucked up long until then.

You tried to keep your anxious mind busy, throwing yourself into work. Talking to people over the static airways of the radio about their lives; about the world and all of its workings was so much easier than talking to anyone about what was going on with you.

The only person who knew was Wanda and you’d canceled all of your other plans during the week, not able to face anyone. Not yet.

Lots of sleepless nights, staring at the ceiling. Thinking until your brain physically hurt.

And then you’d turned to you journal- maybe if you wrote everything down it would make sense. If you could see it all, inked out, you could make a decision.

Did you want this child?

Wanda had suggested making a pro’s and con’s list and while it sounded crazy and unhelpful, and you rolled your eyes at it ‘As though that will help’, you ended up doing it anyways.

You start with Cons, naturally. Always had been too damn negative.

Cons:

-I have no fucking idea how to be a mom

-Bucky???

-My job. My career. Who’s going to watch the baby while I work?

-How in the fuck am I going to financially support a baby.

-No room in the apartment/My room is fucking tiny and where will we put a baby

(Wanda said we can turn half of the living room into a playroom/makeshift nursery. How fucked up though? Not even a real nursery)

-No car? A baby on the subway? No thank you.

-Weird to explain to people even if Bucky wants to co-parent. All our friends??

-PAIN

-Pregnancy looks so painful. Birth looks scary. My poor vagine.

-Life is basically over

-The baby will not have a grandmother from your side...

You could keep going on, but you decide to stop there. You could go on, make the list pages and pages long but you decide against it.

Pros:

-I’ve always wanted to be a mom. Always dreamed of babies and motherhood, baby fever crashes over me in waves.

-Me and Bucky’s baby is going to be cute AF(and that just pure facts)

-I have a great support system- amazing friends and family who I know will help

-Bucky could want to be involved. He probably will...maybe?

-He has a big family, i think. The baby would have lots of family

-I don't want to have an abortion. All about pro-choice, but I just...don't know if I can.

That had made you bite the end of your pen.

Adoption?

Could you give a child that you went through nine months of pregnancy up for adoption? Knowing yourself- probably not. You cant even get rid of the moth hole ridden clothes at the back of your closet. Not comparing a baby to a jean jacket- fuck, see how unequipped you were for this?

-I’d be a good mom(I think)

-I could swing it financially. Maybe get a second job

-At least I have a good insurance plan now

-My life might have more of a purpose?

You hide the lists away in one of your many journals. Stick it in the wicker basket under your night stand- and revisit it too many times in those days between.

You make a lot of other lists in that time, too. 

//////

One of them sits tucked in your purse as you make your way to the eighth floor- Arms folded across your chest and the inside of your bottom lip speared between your teeth as the elevator takes you up.

Wanda stands beside you, of course. Sipping on her iced americano. You’d tried to tell her that she didn't need to come, that you were perfectly okay with going on your own. You’d gotten about two words out before she shut you down-

“I already took the afternoon off, don't be ridiculous”

You both know you wouldn't admit it, stubborn as you we’re, but you’d let out a big sigh of relief. You really didn't want to do this alone.

The waiting room is standard for this building, looks similar to the one that you sit in when you see your GP- save for a sign hanging about the door that labels it the OB-GYN.

Fake plants and those standard waiting room chairs that had that weird diagonal print on them TV’s that we’re playing the local news and tables stacked with months dated magazines. There was no windows though and it made the back of your neck feel hot.

The receptionists is nice. Middle aged with mild with droning, mellow voice. She checks you in fast and efficiently and tells you that you’ve got about a 15 minute wait on your hands.

Annoying, you think even though you give her a big grin and a sweet ‘thank you’. You’d been right on time. Why in all offices of all kinds is there always a fucking wait?

Wanda has plopped down on a chair in the corner and is fingering through an issue of LIFE, her long legs crossed at the knee. you sit next to her. The office air conditioner is blasting, it had been a muggy May in the city, but you feel overheated. You let the chunky cardigan you’d donned slip down one shoulder, exposing your skin to the chilly air.

You should feel the cold but you’re over heated. Nervous as hell. Why doesnt anyone else in this office seem nervous?

You tend to people watch when you get overly anxious like you are now. Tend to take in every little detail of every little thing around you.

There’s a black couple- the woman doesn't look pregnant but they’re holding hands tightly and they keep whispering to each other. He smiles and nudges her shoulder with his. Then there’s a Latina woman who looks just about ready to pop and is reading one of the kids book to a little boy with her eyes. A white lady, with twin carriers rocks them gently as she chats with a woman who looked to be related to her, maybe. Older and graying.

You feel like a creep but you can't stop looking at them all. Staring at each of the people who are at different stages of the same  life-path you found yourself on.

Wanda clicks her tongue as her dark eyes focus on the magazine. Muttering, her accent thick, about how the lenses they used for the shoot on the page was all wrong.

Her photographers eye was snobby and elitist.

“Y/N?” The nurse calls you back, not butchering your name which is nice and look over at your best friend.

“Are you sure you don't want me to come back with you?” Wanda whispers, big gingerbread eyes searching yours and you shake your head quickly.

You had to do this, on your own. What if...what if you ended up having to do this whole thing alone? You had to be grown, had to face this solo. That’s just how you felt, even if it might not be true.

“It’s just another appointment- I can do it on my own. I’ll live” there's a reasoning lilt in your voice that she doesn't quite buy but she nods all the same. Tells you that she’ll be waiting right there for you as you muster up all your courage and train your face into a smile, following the nurse into the back offices, the door mechanically closing behind the two of you.

The OB’s office is...warmer then you’d thought it would be. Her desk has frames of all types and her walls are plastered with colorful posters, making the alabaster of the wallpaper less daunting. There was even a window in here.

You’re perched up on the exam table/ chair thingy, staring out at the tall buildings across the street, at the people moving fast below on the sidewalks. You wonder what all of them are doing? How many of the have kids?...

When there’s a soft knock at the door your attention snaps back to the present.

Doctor Helen Cho is a petite Asian woman. She has glossy dark hair that's tied up in a clip high on the  back of her head, and her voice is friendly and her expression open as introduces herself to you and reaches out to shake your hand.

“I’m Y/N, it’s nice to meet you, too” You sound so much surer and more confident then you feel. It had always been your party trick- meeting new people and being able to talk to them. Leaving trails of barley there acquaintances in your wake.

“So it says here that you think you’re pregnant, yes?” She gets right to it, and your appreciative for it.

“Yeah, I know I am.  I took four tests and they all came out positive and I...I feel really off” you try to explain it, poorly but she seems to understand.

“When you say off, do you mean like bad feeling off or?” She probes as she sits at her desk, swivels her chair to face you. Her chocolate almond eyes weren't piercing or clinical, just waiting.

“Not really bad? But I’ve just been so tired lately and I’ve had like, zero appetite. And my breasts have been so sensitive that it hurts to put on a bra” as you tell here these things you could slap your head for not assuming you were pregnant before you’d taken the tests.

Dr. Cho hums and nods as she looks over her tablet “Well from the look of these results from those blood and urine tests your nurse went ahead and gave you when you came in, I can tell you that you are definitely about nine weeks pregnant- so those symptoms are right on with where you are”

You inhale and exhale, bigly. It’s real. It’s been real, was a notion, a happening but now...it’s so freaking real.

And there's a real life changing decision to be made-

That you’d already made before you’d even walked into this office but now seemed even clearer. Crystal, in that moment of clarity.

“I want to keep it” Your confident as you say it. Your voice cracks with some kind of emotion you couldn't even begin to explain, but you’re confident. You’re sure.

Dr. Cho grins at you, and stands, congratulating you then, after she’s sure you even want a congratulations. You like her, think you might.

It’s hard to focus on her voice though because all your mind can think of is the next big obstacle, the next big step in all of this.

How were you going to tell Bucky?

Okay guys? I posted? Crazy right? lol give me some feedback! Comment and tell me what you thought of this. I absolutely love interacting with you guys, but I’m sure ya’ll know that. 

Also- the taglist for this story is still OPEN, so if you’d like to be tagged in future chapters just ask!

@peacefulwriter88 @jaamesbbarnes @jalapenobarnes @brieannakeogh @gifsbysimplysonia @lostinthoughtsandfeelings @lostinspace33 @4theluvofall @plumfondler @tatathekissypotato @siren-kitten-his @skishenanigans @geekyweed @spidey-babe-parker @lastfallenstar @rachelle-on-the-run @prettybubblesintheair @dani-si 

#Bucky Barnes #thick bucky #bucky barnes x plus size reader #bucky barnes x reader #pregnant!reader #pregnant reader #Modern AU #marvel #wanda maximoff #plus size reader #Steve Rogers #clint barton #avengers au #fluff #and angst #fluffy angst #unexpected pregnancy #Carol Danvers #MCU

[baldtaelovemaze]

Till death shoots us apart (2)

Mafia!au

Yoongi X Reader X Hoseok ft. got7

Warnings: mentions of death, illegal things, sex, and violence

Words: 3k

To free herself from her abusive husband she must pay the biggest debt of them all. Murder his rival but what happens if she falls for the man she is supposed to kill?

previous part.

[previously]

Finally, you reached the back door and walked out. The sound of your heels and could be heard tapping the pavement of the Brooklyn streets. Soon after you heard the steps of someone else.

You smirked.

Got him.

Not long after that thought passed your mind, you were pinned to the brick wall by your shoulders. You looked up and came face to face with a panting Yoongi. His raven hair covered his lust filled eyes.

"Just where do you think you're going with that pretty little mouth of yours, missy?" He grumbled from depths of his throat.

You smirked in satisfaction, bottom lip stuck between your teeth, you stood nose high with no Intentions of breaking eye contact.

You observed him. The way he would undress you with just the help of his eyes, the way his chest would rise and fall and most importantly the way his neck would glisten with sweat. Your eyes lingered on his neck for longer than you'd like to admit.

He was indeed, truly attractive.

"Why do you wanna know ?" You cocked your head to the side, exposing your neck in return. You simpered when you saw his brown orbs bounce down to your throat then back to your eyes.

"You think you can just look at me like you did, talk to me like you did and then leave?" He chuckled with a shake of his head. Past his raven hair, his eyes burned holes in yours.

"Who do you think I am?" The sound of his deep voice -so deep it almost sounded like he was growling made you want to press your knees together, anything to create some kind of friction to your core.

That thought alone caught you off guard. How was he making your knees go weak with little to no effort?

Not even Hoseok had managed to get your aroused in such little time in your early stages of dating.

Focus y/n , you can't give in.

Crossing your arms, you switch your weight to your left foot. The night was windy but you knew for a fact that the wind wasn't the only reason goosebumps formed on your skin.

"I don't care about who you are." You ran your tongue over your red painted lips, moisturizing them in the process.

The moon illuminated his visage with a blue tinge. His brows creased and you watched as he sniggered.

"I'll make you scream my name that way you'll care about me till the day you die." He puckered his lips, aiming for yours but with the help of your arms reaching between your two bodies and pushing him off, he missed.

You grabbed him by the collar and leaned in to whisper in his ear, making sure that your lips grazed his earlobe.

"Unfortunately for you, I am not a little whore with no morals. You could of least asked my name, right?"

His breath hitched and the raven-haired man remained silent.

"705 upper James street. That's where I work tomorrow." With that, you let go of him and walked passed him all while swaying your hips seductively. His orbs burned holes through your posterior but you didn't dare look back.

Now all you had to do was hope that the man would show up because if he did I'd be game over for him. You'd have him right where you wanted him. ______ 8AM was the time.

This early in the morning you'd usually still be sleeping alone in your shared bed with Hoseok probably somewhere cheating on you or recovering from his hangover in the living-room but on this windy Monday in Brooklyn, you were changing the diaper of a ten-month-old baby in a rundown daycare.

You always loved children and wanted some of your own one day but when Hoseok grew irresponsible, you quickly abandoned your dreams of motherhood.

This was the perfect fake job to soften the mobster's heart. By now you knew that they were all the same, hard on the outside and very soft on the inside. He had to have a soft spot for babies....right?

After bribing the daycare by paying off their debts, Hoseok had managed to get you this job in less than a day. He knew where you worked but not where you lived and you planned on keeping it that way. No matter how many times the clingy man would beg for you to tell him, you refused.

He would probably show up in the middle of the night -extra drunk and horny, wanting your attention and in all honesty, feeling his fingers on your skin made you want to rip his head off at times. Knowing he had been with multiple other women while in a committed relationship with you disgusted you and made you ask yourself why deep down in your heart you still loved him.

You shook vigorously your head as if that would make all the frustrating thoughts of him fall right out of your mind.

It didn't.

"Y/ n, there's somebody here for you." you faintly heard you coworker shout from the front door.

Your smile grew too wide as you gently picked up the baby from the changing table a put him down where he crawled happily with the rest of the babies. You made your way to the door carefully, making sure not to step on a baby's hand or foot -or just a baby in general.

There he was, leaning on the door. The black coat he wore engulfed his pale body in warmth. No doubt in mind that he was probably hiding a gun somewhere. Perhaps in the back pocket of his ripped denim jean?

He wasn't the tallest of men but his presence was definitely intimidating.

"So y/n is the name, huh ?" He grumbled, still leaned against the doorframe.

You grin, body slightly bent and pressed against the counter waiting for him to get to you.

He finally moves, Steps lazy and slow, he isn't smiling.

"You know ... you're the first girl I had to put this much effort into." he exhales, scratching the back of his neck with his lanky fingers.

"Wow, then I don't want to know what kind of girls you've been with." You grimace. "Letting you fuck without even knowing my name? Pathetic." you prop your elbows on the counter and rest your head in your palms. You glance up through your lashes, playful smile on your lips. "what do you want?"

His brows jump and this time he's pushed back his hair with the help of gel so they're on full display.

"You're literally the one that told me to come here?"

"Nah ah, hold your horses' buddy," You hold out your index just inches away from his nose "I just kinda mentioned you where I worked. I  never specifically asked you to come. So I am asking again, what do you want?"

He throws his head back, laughing out loud before regaining his stoic expression. "Wow, this girl..." he tuts "You must truly not know who I am?"

"Yes, and I also don't care ." You pipe, amused. Irritating him must have been the funniest thing you'd seen in a while.

His thin lips would pucker into a pout, he’d sigh or grumble something, he’d look up at the sky just to avoid making eye contact : that was Min Yoongi in a flustered state and you'd only seen little of it but it was a no-brainer that getting him this way was now one of your favorite things.

"Let's see how you'll sass me when your mouth would be filled with my c-"

"HEY!" blood rushes to your cheeks as you dart your eyes around the room to see if any of your coworkers had heard anything from his sinful mouth "First of all, we are in public and second of all, the  CHILDREN." You squeak out.

He finally smiles.

"Anyways since you're insisting ..." he extends his arm, looking at his short nails in utter boredom -he had the habit of biting them off when alone. "fine I'll go on a date with you, just because I pity you." His gums showed when he smiled cheekily, loving the way your face morphed in confusion.

You burst out laughing "I know this is probably the first time you've asked a lady out since before you were too busy being a man whore but no need to put words in my mouth, sir."

The corners of his lips can't help but lift themselves into a small grin, eyes taking in how beautiful you look barefaced and pressed against the counter comfortably. "Did you just call me a whore?"

You burst out laughing again.

"Say that again and I won't just be putting words in your mouth-"

You choke on your spit, eyes bulging and once again looking over your shoulder to make sure no one heard. "Hdhshshs STOP WITH THE sexual JOKES mmthanks"  you made sure to shout every word but 'sexual' as you grabbed your jacket then his arm and led the both of you out the door.

"W-wait can you just leave work like that ?" Brows furrowed in worry, Yoongi looks over his shoulder, the distance between your two bodies and the daycare continuously increasing with each step you took. "A-ah yes, I was actually just filling in for a coworker but she's arrived now "You lie and grimace over how obvious it sounds that it isn't true but you're quick to change the subject. "Now, what about this date?"

"Quack Quack !" You chased the duck alongside the pond playfully.

You used to do this all the time with your brother before you met Hoseok

"You know, when I said date I wasn't imagining this" he lets out lazily, slouching himself deeper into the park's bench.

You stop mid-track, chest heaving with your hands in your back pockets, you walk over to him.” I haven't known you for more than two days but I can already tell moving or doing anything with your body other than sex of course" you mumbled that last part "isn't your cup of tea " you finish with a sigh.

"You're not completely wrong about that but you're also not completely right "he mutters, hinting at his gangster life he thinks you're oblivious to. The mafia world was truly ruthless when it came to physical stuff. You had to be in good shape in order to fight and defend yourself better which meant he worked either by going to the gym and running on a treadmill or running from bullets in a drug-échange-went-wrong scenario.

You cock your head to the side, acting confused as if you had no idea what he was trying to say. The man smiles briefly. "you know, I think you're the first women I spent this much time without doing anything sexual." He stated a matter of faculty.

"T-thank you ... I guess?" You carefully sit beside him making sure to leave some space between your two bodies.

"Now that I've come to think about it, I don't actually know your name." You lie. Even if you lied you still felt embarrassed about not asking his name sooner-of course you knew it but hello you had a game to play here- your cheeks turn crimson at the thought of you practically scolding him for not asking for your name last night.

He lets out a deep chuckle, a mischievous smile spreads across his visage." I think you should earn the right to know my name" the tension between you two was thick -thicker than his sniper Jungkook ass. You force yourself to not think about the amount of time you spent looking at jungkook back in the club when he’d get up. 

But this wasn't a Jungkook story, no it wasn’t.

 You were defying  Yoongi with your eyes and he was doing the same. You rose a brow and he did the same. You lifted your chin and guess what? He did the same! 

You finally broke the eye contact "Wow, you're serious?" A sigh escapes your lips.

"Yep" 

This fucking bitch.

"Okay, whatever. Let's go somewhere fun, nameless stranger" You bounce off the seat, quickly intertwining your fingers in his and pulling him up.

Butterflies erupt in his stomach for the first time.

Its so sudden and he can't comprehend the feeling so he gasps for air, thinking that id help somehow and you're quick to turn your head around worried, only to see his cheeks flushed. The weather has considerably dropped so you don't think any further, regaining your consistent steps.

"It's here " you look back, a sly smile on your mouth. You had dragged him here by foot even though he had a car because you insisted that the windy Brooklyn air would aid him, considering what had happened moments before.

Of course, he complained all the way till you arrived in front of a building He looked back at you, eyebrows screwed together in confusion.

"Laser Quest?"

"Laser Quest!" You sang out cheerfully.

The man was a mobster Guns Laser quest equals guns too. But no deaths just fun. The goal of the game was to shoot as many people in order to win.

You knew Yoongi would love this sort of game. You could tell by the way he was smiling after the worker explained the rules of the game to him.

He struggled and you watched him.

Five minutes had passed and the man was still struggling to strap his vest on.

That surprised you 

All the bulletproof vests he must have worn yet, he can’t put on a laser quest vest ?? Boi if u don't.

"Suga, come here I'll help you ."

You place yourself in front of the man taller than you by only a few inches.

His eyes bounce up from the tricky straps to you. Gaze immediately hardening.  You had just called him by his the name he used underground. 

In his mind, you were oblivious to his double life but calling him that proved him wrong You did it on purpose because playing with fire thrilled you. It sent you a wave of adrenaline which pumped into your veins a spread over your body like a sick disease.

Your life depends on the next words you’d choose.

"Since your not telling me your name I thought calling you Suga would be nice. You're pale and your smile is sweet so the name suits you the most " your smile was innocent, tugging on the straps of his vest playfully. You flutter your lashes.

His expression softens but he remains unreadable as he studies your features. You couldn't decipher what he was thinking no matter how hard you tired.

Fuck, why did I say that? What was I thinking? Now out of all-

  He pecks you on the lips, catching you off guard, you fling your eyelids open, sucking in a breath.

"Can you please help me with my vest ?" He pipes sweet and innocent.

You don’t budge, too lost in the feeling of his lips on your to even acknowledge that he’d just asked you something.

 It was the first man who had kissed you other than Hoseok.

It was small but you still felt it, the peng of guilt in your heart. Perhaps, your body still believes you belong to Hoseok. His touch is the only thing you are truly familiar with.  You had to be real with yourself, you might have left that man but it wouldn't be an easy task forgetting the feelings stored deep in your heart that hammered against your chest wildly.

Despite all the emotions you felt for the redhead, it didn't stop the flutter, the adrenaline that rushed in after Yoongi placed his lips on yours.

You cleared your throat almost aggressively "D-don't k-kiss me without my permission" you stuttered, Strapping him up too tightly on purpose. With one final tug, you finished, stepping back and beelining for the door where the game was held behind.

It was better than expected. It was fun. He was fun. When he unsurprisingly won the game, picked you up bridal style and started spinning you around. That was fun. When he smiled at you and thanked you because he was genuinely having a good time... That was adorable. It made your heart stutter.  Especially when after winning the game he asked for a kiss on the cheek and just when you were about to kiss him he unexpectedly turned around just in time to collide his lips with yours That was nice...

Snap out of it y/ n! Don't forget why you're here!

Reminded yourself again -you had a feeling you were going to be doing that a lot.

You're here to seduce him. You're just doing this to earn his trust don’t forget it.

In moments like these when your heart would go soft, you thought of your brother. Your sick brother waiting for you to come back for him and run off with him to a better life. That put you right back in your place. The genuine smiles you gave Yoongi earlier would now become fake.

"Now do I have the right to know your name, Suga?" A smile graced his soft features and the little wrinkles near his eyes made this mobster even more adorable. You picked on the extra cheese that fell from your pizza as you waited for an answer.

The restaurant area near the arcade was filled with the laughs of children, teenagers and the frustrated groans of the parents that lost their kids in the crowd.

Lips parted, he was about to speak but he was soon interrupted by the chime of his phone. 

He sighed, annoyed when checking the caller iD.

He chose to ignore it, not wanting to spare you his attention longer than he already had. You waved it off, taking about four more bites of your pizza until it had completely disappeared

 You were tempted to get up and buy some more but heck you have more important things to do - "Soooo...?" you started losing patience.

"Well-" His phone rung

This time he picked up. "Why are you calling me? Didn't I say this was my day of-" he was cut short by the person on the other side of the line. He listened attentively, nodding and humming every once in a while.

He hung up, standing abruptly from his chair, he sent you an apologetic smile.

"I-i need to go I'm sorry.”He dug into his pocket to retrieve money and soon after slapped two 50 dollar bills on the table “take an uber or something.” he managed to spit out before disappearing into the crowd.

That's how the date ended. He left you at Laser Quest alone and ran off to whatever businesses he had to urgently attend to.

Shortly after, you left too.

The day after, 1PM.

You got out of your shitty Toyota Corolla with a huff, ready for your second day of work. To your luck, you worked the third shift so you slept in this morning.

The little bell chimed as you got into the daycare.

"Y/n!"  at the counter stood Yoongi.

Eyes filled with relief, he leaped towards you, lacing your fingers with his.

You stood unfazed, still sour over how the date had ended. 

He smiled, tight-lipped. "I've been here since 7am waiting for you. I'm sorry about how I left yesterday. Something urgent came up."

You softened, looking up at his orbs who screamed for forgiveness.

"I needed to see you again" There it was again. The stutter of your chest. The untamed butterflies.

#bts #bts imagines #bts reaction #bts angst #bts au #bts mafia fic #bts mafia imagine #bts mafia reaction #bts mafia au #jhope #hoseok #hoseok smut #hoseok fluff #hoseok fanfic #bts fake texts #bts fanfction #suga #bts yoongi #yoongi smut #yoongi fluff #yoongi x reader #got7 mafia au #got7 #bts v #taehyung #jungkook #jin #jimin #namjoon

[analysis-by-vaylon]

Maiden, Mother, Crone: “The Battle for Mewni” and the triple goddess -- the agony of birth, the trial of motherhood, and the hard price of power.

Ah, at last!

Here we are at the other side of Star vs. the Forces of Evil's "The Battle for Mewni." Was it everything I thought it would be? Yes, I think so; it was even more than that. There's a lot to unpack in these episodes, and I plan to take my time in doing so. (But not too much time.)

This post will discuss Star, Moon, and Eclipsa and the connection they all have to a mythological concept called the triple goddess, with each of these characters representing one of the three archetypical aspects of the goddess -- Maiden, Mother, Crone. I will discuss the nature of each aspect, while touching upon the comparisons and contrasts we are meant to perceive by way of these analogues, and I will explain what I think the implications are of the triple goddess's presence.

This will be a long post.

First, Some Acknowledgements

This post owes a nod to my good friend @malthuswibble, whose post on reddit regarding possible symbolism and mythology behind the cauldron is probably more precise and insightful than anything I will ever post, and to reddit user celestialwolf157, who wrote an extensive analysis on Queen Moon which illustrates her shortcomings as a leader. My analysis will touch on some of the same ideas from these two essays, and I would strongly encourage you to not only read these posts but follow their writers as well.

Though it might sometimes feel like a solitary activity, critical analysis, whether literary or not, is a community effort. One writes critical analysis so that others will read it and discover something new, and, as a literary critic, one is inspired by both the work in question -- Star vs. the Forces of Evil, in this case -- and by what other people have to say about it -- that is, the Star community and their often-thoughtful observations. Just as I read your posts and take something valuable from them, it is my hope that you will read my posts and find something worthwhile in them for yourself. In this way -- together -- we can create new meaning. Thank you for this opportunity!

With this in mind, allow me to present something which has taken far too long to reach you.

The Triple Goddess

Simply put, the triple goddess is the idea that there is a set of goddesses, each representing three allegedly prototypical aspects of womanhood or three spheres of influence. Whether there is a genuine basis for the triple goddess in historical mythology is something best left to be settled by scholars more talented than I am and is, in fact, irrelevant for the purposes of this discussion; as a literary concept that writers regularly make use of, whether in earnest or in parody, the triple goddess has proven to be useful.

There are, of course, some historical examples of tripartite goddesses -- colloquially called "triple goddesses" -- many of which have made their way into not only modern paganism but also popular fiction:

Greek goddesses (The Fates, the Furies, Hecate)

Norse goddesses (The Norns)

Irish goddesses (The Morrigan)

But I would argue instead that instead of a literal mythological analogue, Star, Moon, and Eclipsa instead fit the syncretic and modern-pagan idea of triple goddess: three women, each one at a different stage of her life. Yet there is some confusion and complexity in their roles, with Eclipsa, whom we know the least about, presenting the greatest uncertainty.

An ordinary reading of the triple goddess in "The Battle for Mewni" might place the characters thus:

Star, being a young woman, is the Maiden, who symbolizes the beginning as well as innocence, potential, and youth.

Moon, being Star's mother and motherly in general, is the Mother, who symbolizes the middle as well as experience, fertility, and vitality.

Eclipsa, given her advanced age and (forbidden) knowledge, is the Crone, who symbolizes the end as well as wisdom, exhaustion, and death.

And that's a fine reading that neatly ties everything together. However, I believe that, like so many other things in Star vs. the Forces of Evil, this seemingly-obvious established order has actually been turned on its head; there is more going on under the surface than there appears to be at first glance. To discover that, we can make use of the concept of the triple goddess to examine the ways in which these three characters don't fit their molds -- and, from that comparison, discern what the series is trying to tell us.

Let's start with Star.

The Agony of Birth

A caveat before we begin: I am not a woman; I am a man, and to be quite frank, I don't feel that I am qualified in the slightest to write about the pain of childbirth (or indeed any of the experiences of motherhood). When I write about these things, I must go by what the women in my life have told me, or what I have seen myself or read from others. With that admission -- because it seems clear to me that "The Battle for Mewni," at least in part, is about childbirth and the challenge of raising children, in addition to the difficulties women face as they transition into new stages of life -- I will nevertheless endeavor to navigate this maze as best I can.

The Maiden, as I mentioned earlier, symbolizes the beginning of a woman's life. And while Star certainly is still youthful, energetic, and reckless, the princess has undoubtedly tempered herself from the marauding ball of energy she was in "Star Comes to Earth," the very first episode of the series, has she not? She has matured and will continue to mature further.

Ultimately, I think, Star vs. the Forces of Evil is about Star becoming a woman, if not a queen. Like the magical girl shows that it was inspired by, Star vs. the Forces of Evil uses the magical girl transformation -- bound together with the literal butterfly's metamorphosis, a conceit unique to the series -- as a metaphor for the transition from girlhood to womanhood. "The Battle for Mewni" has, in addition to clear examples of her change, potent symbolism underscoring the nature of the transition.

In "Return to Mewni," we have clear evidence that Star is separating from her parents and becoming her own woman:

Star does things differently from Moon at every turn, often to the latter's chagrin.

This theme of children struggling against their parents is further reinforced in "Puddle Defender" when both Moon and Buff Frog prevent Star from sneaking off on her own; Star does so anyway.

Star knew that her mother was too weak, both magically and in terms of will, to do what was necessary, so she decided to bear the burden herself -- to sacrifice herself in order to restore magic.

That is an absurdly heavy burden for a child to bear. That Star determines -- on her own -- that it is a burden she alone must bear is a clear indication of her maturity, the contrast between Star and her mother made all the more stark by Star's choice.

It is in this otherworldly realm that the episode "Toffee" presents a startling and extraordinarily powerful metaphor:

The cauldron is an ancient symbol of femininity; more specifically, it is a symbol of the womb. (You may recall me briefly touching upon this topic in my post about the Holy Grail in Star vs. the Forces of Evil.)

That Star draws from it an egg -- both a figurative egg and literal egg with a literal fetus inside of it, as she is screaming in agony the entire time -- is simply astonishing to me. This entire scene is an incredible metaphor for childbirth.

I once said that the writers of Star vs. the Forces of Evil have a stunning command of visual metaphor. This moment with Star and the cauldron far surpasses anything yet seen in the show. It is, far and away, one of the most potent pieces of figurative storytelling in modern animation.

Too, this scene hearkens back to something @kyotosummer wrote in her (not-enough-attended-to) posts on connections between Sailor Moon and Star vs. the Forces of Evil: the Galaxy Cauldron.

Star reaching into the cauldron makes the connection I was missing between universe, cauldron, and egg. (I believe it's significant, too, that the egg is made from pudding -- but that's a topic I shall cover in another post.)

It's this scene, therefore, that firmly establishes Star not as a mere Maiden but as a young girl on the cusp of womanhood, one who is cognizant of her potential for bringing new life into the world and of the sacrifice that womanhood often requires.

Indeed, I answered a question not too long ago in which I remarked on the significance of the term "light-bearer": for, as we can clearly see from both the opening of the show, some of the episode posters, and the closing credits, Star is intended to be the single light remaining in a world of darkness: the light-bearer, the one who carries the light.

Crucially, bear can also mean "give birth to" -- and the cauldron scene makes it clear that it's both of these senses which are meant. Star gives birth to and carries the light.

I wonder: do young women, watching "The Battle of Mewni" -- do these scenes speak to them and make them more aware of the transformations that lie ahead for them, just as Star undergoes transformations in her own life? Does this show help them realize the capacity of birthing not only literal new life but also entire fictional universes -- universes that feel just as palpably real as one's own heartbeat?

After all, isn't Star herself the product of someone who gave birth to her in our own world -- that is, Daron Nefcy?

I wonder.

Yet even as Star wrestles with the fact that she is transitioning into a woman, her own mother, Queen Moon, has separate struggles: the challenges of being a queen, of being a wife, and of being a mother. In all three areas, she unfortunately comes up short. In this next section, I will discuss how Queen Moon falls short of the archetype of the Mother.

The Trial of Motherhood

In "Return to Mewni" and "Puddle Defender," we can plainly see that Moon's actions are informed by one single goal: keeping her daughter safe. But despite the fact that she obviously cares for Star, Moon clearly does not understand her daughter at all:

Star lacks Moon's cautiousness, and Moon is unwilling to accept the reality that her daughter is a different person from her -- something she remains blind to until the very end. Only Glossaryck understands Star's true nature (and indeed prepares accordingly). This comes up prior to "The Battle for Mewni"; recall Glossaryck's conversation with Moon in "Page Turner":

Moon: Why all the riddles? You were always very direct when you were training me. Glossaryck: (sighs) Well, it finally happened. Every queen wants to tell me how to do my job. "My training was different." You know what Glossaryck hears? "Me, me, me, me, me! I'm going to pull my mentor away from his job so I can be in the spotlight again." The only Butterfly to leave me be was your great-great-great-great-great-great-great-grandmother, Eclipsa, the Queen of Darkness -- whose chapter, coincidentally, you left Star alone with when you pulled me into this wonderland of red tape. [...] Glossaryck: You all did this because you don't trust me, and what's worse, you don't trust Star. My queen. My queen, your training was different because Star is different. You have to have faith in her to make choices that are best for her. And my job is to train Star to be a queen.

But by the time "The Battle for Mewni" comes around, it seems Moon has forgotten Glossaryck's words to her; instead of helping Star, she's still trying to control what Star says, thinks, and does. In the earlier example in "Return to Mewni," Star's instincts to fight Ludo's rats in combat could have worked to the pair's favor if, instead of focusing on scolding Star, Moon had joined her in dispensing with the rats. But by turning her attention on Star and what she allegedly did wrong, Moon inadvertently gives the rats the opening they need to sabotage their journey.

Star's impulse to openly challenge her enemies is constantly at war with Moon's drive to preserve the status quo through stealth and subterfuge. Ultimately, Star's philosophy is proven right when she restores magic and defeats Toffee -- something that Moon would never have accomplished simply by hiding and waiting.

And there's the other matter: Moon simply isn't strong enough. In "Baby," we learn that Star's power far exceeds her mother’s -- and in fact potentially rivals Queen Eclipsa's:

Star herself even points out Moon's weakness during their heated argument in "Return to Mewni":

By the end of "Toffee," the titular villain has laid bare the true extent of Moon's desperation and exhaustion: she is willing to sacrifice even the one thing that defined her as queen -- Toffee's finger -- in order to get her daughter back, and is utterly helpless when Toffee betrays her.

The crushing despair of this final twist of the knife is what causes Moon to finally break down.

I think we have not yet seen the full extent of the torture that Moon will be put through (but this is a pet theory of mine that I've been working on which I will write more in-depth about another day). Suffice it to say that, at the end of "The Battle for Mewni," Moon has lost her validity as a queen, as a wife, and as a parent. She is utterly exhausted and powerless in the face of evil to protect those she loves, which forces her daughter to sacrifice her own life in order to restore magic. It's truly every parent's worst nightmare, and it's pretty grim stuff.

In this way, then -- referring back to the triple goddess -- Moon more resembles the Crone than the Mother: she is "old and gray," exhausted and weak. Worse still, it's not clear by the end whether or not she is any wiser for the experience. If anything, she seems brittle -- almost unhinged, really -- as evinced by the nervous little laugh she gives at the end of "Toffee":

Moon does the best she can using the tools at her disposal, but I think the sad truth is that, due to her mother's early death and the pressures put upon her as queen, she never got a chance to grow up and become a confident, full-fledged woman -- very much unlike Eclipsa, who exudes confidence and independence, and whose mother was also allegedly killed at a young age.

Interestingly, while previously Star has been compared to Eclipsa (see "Baby" again), "The Battle for Mewni" compares Moon to Eclipsa, and it's this comparison which intrigues me, since we otherwise know so little about the Queen of Darkness; perhaps the comparison hints at something to come.

The Hard Price of Power

Before we discuss Eclipsa's comparison of herself to Moon, we should establish what we know about Eclipsa.

We have heard bits and pieces of legends about her throughout the series, starting as far back as "Into the Wand" in the second season, but we still know very little actual fact about her life. Her tapestry claims that she abandoned her Mewman husband for a monster lover, but "Moon the Undaunted" reveals that the tapestries are little more than creative retellings of history (i.e., propaganda -- now there's a timely subject), so it's unclear just how true that is.

Eclipsa also reveals some things to Moon in "Moon the Undaunted," but I think it would be prudent to be skeptical of these claims until we actually see them for ourselves. The only factual things that we know is that Eclipsa is a powerful spellcaster who wrote a chapter in the Book of Spells which is kept under lock and key; that Rhombulus freezes Eclipsa in crystal because, so he claims, she is evil; and that Eclipsa was originally born hundreds of years ago and is a distant ancestor to Star and Moon.

From her sinister appearance, the stories about her, and the fact that she is family, I would say there is more than a little bit of Morgan le Fay in Eclipsa -- a nod to the Arthurian legends that seem to be a running thread throughout Star vs. the Forces of Evil.

It's clear, also, from "Into the Wand" and from Glossaryck's conversation with Moon in "Page Turner" (mentioned in the previous section) that Eclipsa values her independence and freedom. Yet those boons and the power needed to enforce them -- interpreted (rightly or wrongly) by Rhombulus as evil -- come with a high price; I can think of nothing worse for someone so independent-minded than being imprisoned alone and totally constricted for literally hundreds of years.

Moon, too, pays a high price for the power to defeat Toffee by making a dangerous agreement with Eclipsa; she is aware of the risks of freeing Eclipsa and so intentionally misses her shot with the Darkest Spell in order to merely destroy Toffee's credibility (and thus rout his army). Yet this power fails to truly defeat Toffee, allowing him to return and exact revenge on her. By the end of "The Battle of Mewni," she is utterly powerless, and it seems inevitable that Eclipsa will be freed.

It's hard for me not to feel pity for Moon; like Star, she, too, has an enormous burden foisted upon her at a young age. She is scared and desperate at the lowest point of her life in the wake of her mother's slaying. With nowhere else to turn, she approaches Eclipsa for help.

Interestingly, upon speaking with Moon, Eclipsa almost immediately compares the two of them:

Eclipsa: (tearing up) I lost my mother, too, when I was not much older than you.

What are we to make of this comparison? I am uncertain. We know so little about Eclipsa that it's hard for me to say what role she will come to play. Can we even trust what Eclipsa says? Does she seem genuine?

Despite her formidable abilities and her extensive contribution to the Book of Spells, Eclipsa still looks quite young -- nothing like the Crone one might think of when imagining an ancient witch. (For, indeed, Eclipsa is ancient compared to Moon and Star, having been "alive" for over three hundred years.) Certainly, she appears to be younger in appearance than Moon.

I suspect this relative age is the key to understanding Eclipsa's coming role. I have often (half-seriously) called Eclipsa "Evil Mary Poppins," thanks to her umbrella and her garb, but there's a strong possibility that Eclipsa will be a sort of alternate mother for Star -- a replacement for the tired, old Moon who doesn't even really get Star anyway -- that is, someone who understands why Star detests the traditions of Mewni, who sympathizes with Star's love for Marco, who shows Star another path to becoming queen, one that will no doubt be sorely tempting, as Star herself, like Eclipsa, is fiercely independent.

It's not hard to see how this scenario might play out.

In the coming season, Star herself will likely face the same quandary that Moon does in "The Battle for Mewni": what cost will Star be willing to pay for the power to save her kingdom? Her family? Her love? Would she sacrifice all that for freedom? We shall no doubt see.

A Useful Reading?

Earlier, I introduced a simple reading of the triple goddess in "The Battle for Mewni": Star as the Maiden, Moon as the Mother, and Eclipsa as the Crone. The series definitely wants us to recognize the relationships that these three women have between each other, as well as what it means to be a daughter, a mother, and a queen. Yet I think the series wants us to understand that life is a process of change, continual change, and that none of these women are confined to (or defined by) any of these roles. They are in flux: Star is discovering her potential for new life; Moon, alas, is in decline, both physically and mentally; and Eclipsa will be once more free again to exert her influence.

While the triple goddess unfairly limits women to three particular roles, I think it’s still useful as a concept for thinking about depictions of womanhood in fiction (and whether they are fair or unfair) -- and, in this particular case, is useful for examining the extent to which the lives of Mewni will be unexpectedly thrown into confusion by Eclipsa's release. There is disorder everywhere -- that will be particularly evident once two queens of Mewni concurrently walk the realm, competing with one another. That theme of disorder, I predict, will grow and grow as the season progresses. Star vs. the Forces of Evil will evoke a deep sense of unease -- even dread.

It is therefore fitting that Star, who herself embodies the messy disorganization of ordinary life and is practically the champion of chaos, will be the one who must put things to rights. It will be another chapter in her story of development.

Future Writing

I hope you enjoyed reading this analysis of "The Battle for Mewni." It's been a long time coming. The next analysis and theory posts will not take nearly as long (let us hope). I want to talk a little bit about what's going to come next. I have a lot to cover, and I'd like to write it all before the new episodes come out in November. Here's a rough order of the posts to come:

Vaylon’s Crazy Theory on Pony Head.

Vaylon’s Crazy Theory on Queen Moon.

Unsolved mysteries of Star vs. the Forces of Evil.

A Double Take on “Pixtopia,” loneliness, and wabi-sabi.

A Double Take on "Fetch" and mistaken identity.

More analysis about "The Battle for Mewni."

Glossaryck's true nature and goals.

Star's facility for lyric composition and its relation to her imaginative spellcasting.

The Holy Grail theory, revisited.

How much influence does Revolutionary Girl Utena have in Star vs. the Forces of Evil?

And, of course -- because this is a blog about animation in general -- I'd like to write a bit about some unrelated animated series, including The Real Ghostbusters, BoJack Horseman, and Neon Genesis Evangelion.

As you can see, I have my work cut out for me. Feel free to send me any questions you may have or message me with your preferences as to my topics or with suggestions for things you'd like to see. Thank you for reading! See you again soon.

#star vs the forces of evil #the battle for mewni #analysis #star butterfly #moon butterfly #eclipsa #triple goddess

[whereno1701hasgonebefore]

....Take Me Back To When

Pairing: Kirk x reader

Warnings: motherhood? Is that a warning? Lots of nostalgia

Words: 2749

A/N: Took me way longer than I intended, but here’s part 2 of “I Was Younger Then....” Thanks for sticking around and being mostly patient with me while life got in the way of pretty much everything. 

I’d love to hear any and all feedback you want to give me!! 

Part One is here if you missed it!

“I Was Younger Then....”

She groaned as she rubbed the sleep out of her eyes. Squinting at the alarm clock, she could barely make out the numbers that told her it was far earlier than she would have liked to be up. She felt the cold sheets beside her, and sighed as she remembered that she was still alone. She stretched, turning down the noise on the baby monitor as she grabbed her robe off the chair and pulled it tight around herself. She padded down the hall to her daughter’s nursery. Picking up the baby, she rocked her, whispering comforts as she headed to the kitchen to heat up formula. Shaking her head, she noted the dinner that had been left out was untouched. Her husband hadn’t come home last night as promised. Biting back disappointment, her mind wandered into a sudden memory of years ago.

She was eight years old. She and James had pulled yet another dumb prank on his brother, and they were pressed together tightly in a closet, each of them fighting to get to the keyhole and watch everything go down. “Shhh!” She giggled, and James turned to her, shooting her a glare. She clamped her hand down over her mouth to stifle the noise and he grinned at her. The two of them had become inseparable in the three years since they’d met, and she could tell that he was close to laughing himself. A set of footsteps had them both going silent, and he took the crack in the door so she could watch through the keyhole.

George stepped into his bedroom and groaned as soon as he noticed, His entire bed was wrapped in plastic wrap with his clothes still on it, and you two grinned at each other, knowing he’d think that was it. Boy, was he wrong. “JIM! Y/N! I KNOW THIS WAS YOU!” He shouted, taking another step towards his booby trapped rug.

“Come on…” She could hear him under his breath and she grabbed his hand squeezing tightly in anticipation. Just one more step…. A loud snap filled the room, and George jumped as the carpet underneath him crackled. As he moved, he stepped on more and more bubbles, and the snaps echoed throughout the room, joined by their laughter and George’s shouts.

“I’M GONNA KILL YOU TWO!” George roared, and James ripped open the door, taking off and dragging her by their joined hands. Laughing, they rushed out of the boys’ house, sprinting to outpace George and get somewhere safe.

Quiet fussing noises from the baby jolted her out of the memory, and she pulled the bottle out of the microwave, testing the drink against her skin before deciding it was okay for the baby to drink. “It’s too early for this.” She sighed, raking a hand through her hair before settling into the chair and feeding her daughter, resigning herself to starting the day early.

Throughout the workday, nostalgia clung to her like a second skin. At lunch, she headed out with a few coworkers, hoping that spending time with her friends would help her break out of the past, but when conversation turned to old flames, her mind wandered again.

She was thirteen years old. James had just started high school, and she was stuck without him again. She kept an eye on the clock in the last class of the days, counting down the seconds until she could see him again. He was supposed to meet up with her after school today to go to the arcade together and catch up, just the two of them. Her heart pounded with excitement and nerves, and she kept bouncing her leg, paying no attention to the teacher as he droned on about a subject she could care less about. When the bell finally rang, she jumped out of her seat, practically racing to her locker.

“Got a hot date today?” Her friend, Jill, leaned up against the locker next to her.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” She mumbled, stuffing her books into her locker and grabbing her homework.

“Oh, she’s blushing!” Lane chirped from behind her.

“Am not!” She covered her face anyway, knowing her cheeks were, in fact, bright red.

“She must be meeting Jim.” Jill grinned, watching Y/N shut her locker and linking arms with her.

“So what if I am? We’re just friends.” She grumbled as Lane linked arms with her on her other side.

“Riiiight. You definitely don’t have a crush on him or anything.” Lane needled, nudging an elbow into her side.

“It wouldn’t matter if I do. He doesn’t see me that way. Ever since..” her throat closed up a little bit and she coughed, shaking her head. “Ever since mom he’s acted like I’m his little sister. He just takes care of me.” Lane and Jill went quiet, knowing how difficult things were.

“Of course. Sorry.” Lane responded, grabbing her hand and squeezing. She offered a small smile in response. As they exited the school, her whole body perked up as she spotted the blonde waiting on the sidewalk for her. The girls on either side of her felt the change, and grins made their way onto their faces.

“But you totally still have a crush on him.” Jill chirped, giving her a small shove. “Have fun! See you tomorrow Y/N!” They both cheered, and she stuck her tongue out at them, practically skipping over to meet up with James.

“Y/N!” A shout broke her out of her memory. “There you are. You spaced out for a while there. Got any fun guy stories to tell from before you married that delicious husband of yours?” They grinned wolfishly and she laughed.

“Nothing special, if that’s what you’re asking.” She replied with a smile, leaning back as the other women groaned.

“Someday, you’re going to tell us all about your escapades.” The ladies around the table laughed as conversation remained light, and she joined back in easily, falling back into the moment. When lunch was over, the rest of her day passed smoothly. She loved her job, and she was glad she’d changed her mind about what she’d been going to school for.

She was twenty-two years old. James had left for Starfleet the year before, and she’d made up her mind after he’d left to finally pursue a higher degree. “Yes, dad, I’m really fine.” She huffed into the phone that was tucked between her ear and her shoulder as she walked between buildings.

“I just want to know that my little girl is happy.” She rolled her eyes, readjusting the bag on her other shoulder as she gave a quick glance to the map in her hand.

“Dad. I know you’re worried, but I promise that everything is great. I really feel like this is what I was supposed to do, okay? And I know this wasn’t our plan, but you knew that I wasn’t always going to stay at home and be the small-town girl forever, right? Besides, you know how much I want to go and help others get on their feet. This is a good opportunity for me.” She smiled softly as she heard her father’s sigh, a signal of his concession.

“I know, I just wish you could have been a little closer to home.” She let out a small laugh.

“Exactly how many schools in smalltown USA were going to offer a good degree in business consulting?” Her father laughed and she felt a small weight lift off her shoulders. Another argument avoided.

“You have a point there. But couldn’t you have at least gone to school out where Jimmy is?” She tensed instantly, the weight crashing back down.

“No.” Her voice was tight. “You know why. He made his choices, and I’m making mine. I’ve gotta go, Dad.”

“I love you, honey.” His voice was sad, but she wouldn’t let herself feel guilty about that. Not again.

“I love you too, Dad.” She ended the call quickly and shook her head, trying to clear away the cloud that had fallen over her heart at the mention of her ex-best friend. He hadn’t reached out to her since he’d left, and she assumed that he’d cut her out, choosing to leave her behind just like he’d left behind his life in Iowa.

She made her way into her classroom, settling into a seat near the front of the room so she could hear the professor better. Of course, she’d had to arrive fairly early to get a decent seat, which left her alone with her thoughts for far longer than she would have liked. Fingers ghosted over her phone and before she knew it, she had typed out another message to James.

“Hello James. Hope Starfleet is going well, I’m sure you’re crushing it. You always were meant for greatness. I got out of town too. You were right, I wasn’t meant to stay there. Don’t know how you always knew what was best for me before I did, but I suppose it was always the way we were. I miss you, you idiot. I’d tell you not to be too stupid, but we both know better than that. I love you, take care. -Y/N”

She stared at the message she’d typed, wondering if she’d finally have the courage to send it. She’d written a year of unsent notes, but maybe as she started on her new path, she’d find the courage to send it.

She didn’t realise how long she’d sat there, eyes fixed on the small screen in front of her until a voice rang out from the front of the classroom.

“Good morning, class! Welcome to hell.” Nervous laughter tittered throughout the room and she tapped her screen once before turning it off.

Message deleted.

Her commute to the daycare center she used was uneventful, and she couldn’t have been happier to see her baby girl at the end of the day. She listened to the highlights of the day and thanked the caretakers for their work, just as she did every day she had to leave her girl to go into the office, then strapped the baby in and headed home, hoping that maybe her husband had made it back during the day. As she fixed dinner, her tablet pinged with a message from the man in question.

“Hey love. I’m sorry I’m not home. Some things went wrong with the end of this trip. I’ll be home soon. I miss my girls too much to stay away much longer.”

She sighed, settling in for another quiet evening home alone with her daughter. She spent some time playing with the baby before bedtime, trying to make up for the hours she had to spend away from her at work. She poured herself a glass of wine once the baby was down for the night, putting something mindless on the TV for background noise and digging for the yearbook she’d gotten from the last year she and James had been in school together. If nostalgia was going to grab hold of her and not let go, could she be blamed for indulging it?

She flipped through the pages, memories hazy but fond as she looked upon familiar faces and traced the cheeks of laughing friends. A picture of her and James mid-laugh at a lunch table sent her back all those years.

She was seventeen years old. She took a seat across from James at their usual lunch table, the spot next to him empty again. “Did you finally actually break up with her?” She grinned, starting into the meager meal provided by the school.

“It’s traditional to start a conversation with hello.” James smirked at her and she rolled her eyes.

“Fine. From now on, I’ll start with ‘Hello James.’ Now, did you do it or what?” She waited expectantly before he shrugged.

“Nah, not yet.” He took a bite of his own sandwich as she gave him a look.

“James, you told me you were going to break up with her three days ago.”

“I know, I know! I just haven’t found the right moment.” James wouldn’t meet her eyes and she sighed knowingly.

“Also known as every time you try to have that conversation with her, she starts making out with you.”

“Also known as every time I try to have that conversation with her, she starts making out with me.” James grinned widely and she rolled her eyes again.

“James, you gotta stop putting this off. She’s gonna think you really want to be in this relationship with her if you don’t say anything, and we both know that’s not the case.” She glanced at her tray before shaking her head and reaching over, stealing James’ sandwich. She took a big bite of it as he swatted at her, trying to get it back.

“That’s mine!” She shrugged and he huffed, snatching something that resembled food off her tray in return. “Anyway, how do you know I don’t really want to be in this relationship with her?” He whined and she laughed.

“Because you told me so yourself, three days ago. You just haven’t ended this because you think you have a chance at getting in her pants.” She locked eyes with him, starting a staring contest that only ended once he looked away.

“Yeah, alright. Fine. You’re right. Why are you always right?” James sighed and stole his sandwich back, forcing her to resume eating the food-like substance on her tray.

“I’m always right because I’m the best, and you know it.” She grinned, picking at the grapes on her tray.

“Yeah, you are.” James’ voice rang with sincerity and she smiled widely at him. “I’ll break up with her after lunch.” James’ attention was side-tracked by someone walking in, and she assumed it had to be the girl in question.

“No, you’ll end up making out with her after lunch. You should go now.” He hummed his response, and she knew he’d stopped really listening. She picked a grape off the bunch and chucked it at him, hitting him in the forehead. “Now, James!” The stunned look on his face had her bursting out in a fit of giggles, and after a few moments, he joined her. Neither of them had noticed the camera pointed their way, capturing the moment for years to come.

He’d broken up with that girl right after their conversation, a fact that she only remembered because he’d whined for another few days before finding another girl to spend time with. She closed the yearbook and set it aside, glancing at her empty glass of wine and the empty couch next to her. With a sigh, she decided to give up on waiting for her husband and she placed the empty glass in the sink. She fell asleep curled around a pillow in bed, still warm from wine and the memories.

When she awoke to her alarm the next morning, she breathed a sigh of relief. The baby hadn’t fussed all night, and although the bed was still mostly empty, she would take one victory at a time. Stretching, she got up and wrapped the robe around herself, practically floating down the hall as she relished the good night’s sleep she’d gotten. She poked her head into the nursery to affirm that the baby was still asleep and decided she could allow herself a good cup of coffee before waking her daughter up for breakfast.

She padded softly to the kitchen and started the coffeemaker, noticing the wineglass from last night was no longer in the sink. Puzzled, she opened the cabinet to find it put away, only to have a pair of strong arms wrap around her waist. She bit back a yell as she tensed, then relaxed, feeling a pair of warm lips on a spot just behind her ear. She turned in the arms, encircling her own around the neck of her husband, home at last. Beaming, she kissed him in earnest before pulling away to rest her forehead against his own.

“Hello, James.”

Forever tags:

@childoftimeandmagic, @feelmyroarrrr, @darkchocolaterey, @fandomheadrush, @blueoftheenterprise

Kirk tags:

@charlesgrey1875

Other tags:

@spidermans-l-o-v-e-r

#star trek imagine #star trek imagines #kirk x reader #jim kirk x reader #fan fiction #reader insert #staos #star trek fan fic

[3nding]

For all the women who are not Mothers, on Mothers Day. I woke up thinking of us, the not-Mothers. The ones of us who won’t get breakfast in bed, burnt toast and cold eggs made by clumsy little hands. Not a hand drawn card, or a hastily bought bunch of flowers, or daffodils from the garden. We won’t get a long distance phonecall from a grown child off travelling, or at Uni – or a Special Lunch Out. Not today, at least. The women who are asked the question, again and again – ‘when?’ and ‘why not?’ as if there was something terribly wrong with us. Sometimes, even we think that might be true. As if there was some secret we’ve not been let in on. The ultimate sacrament of childbirth, birthing you into full womanhood. Like we missed an important final exam and can’t get the certificate that says ‘Yes, you are a Grown Up Woman now’. This is for the women whose wombs just wouldn’t, couldn’t, start to grow a life. For those who felt life growing, perhaps many times – but those tiny ones slip away so easily. Sometimes, we have to choose to let the tiny ones go, because we are not ready for them. And nobody remembers the really tiny ones, except for us. Especially today. For the ones who went through the terrible lottery of fertility treatment – and didn’t win the prize. For the women who just didn’t meet the right father, at the right time. For the women who find it’s too late, for the Crone comes to sit with us all, gently holding our hands as the bleeding slows and stops – much sooner than we were expecting her. For the women who love a man who cannot father children. This is a silent sorrow, for it’s not our secret to tell or solely our pain to bear. For the women who love a man who doesn’t want to be father, and who after many tearful all-night conversations, make our peace with this. For the women who love women, whose love can make everything but new life. Not yet, anyway. For the women who were born with a man’s body. For the ones who decided that our beloved vocation, our calling, wouldn’t allow us to be Mothers, too. A hateful, painful choice few men have ever had to make. For the ones who think that seven billion (and counting) of us is probably quite enough, and couldn’t bring ourselves to ask Mother Earth to feed another little mouth. For the ones who can’t afford to give a child what it needs, perhaps materially, perhaps emotionally – perhaps both. Who loved our imagined little ones enough to make that choice. The women who have lost a child. You will always be a mother, though you get no card today. The women who simply never felt it was quite right for us, without even quite understanding why. We women who have noticed friends and relatives drift away after having children. The friends of years vanishing into a bubble of motherhood. Leaving us with no children in our immediate circle to give us the company of little ones at least, because it’s fun to hang out with little ones. The ones who feel joy, of course – but also a deep, unspoken sorrow, when we watch one of our sisters glowing with pregnant bliss, or breastfeeding a little one, or catching the look of perfect love between a mother and child. Of course it does hurt, sometimes. Whatever our reasons for having none of our own. We women who know, of course, that we do so many, other, valuable things. We are the women who mother other women’s children, who are the birth mother of businesses, projects, ideas, gardens, animals, vocations, art, books, poems, blogs, scientific research, films, communities, causes and so much else…… We know that being a mother is just one way to be a woman. Just one way, but one way that is held up as an impossible ideal – even for mothers. The perfect Mama. The perfect woman. This isn’t because I want your sympathy. Because I don’t, we don’t, especially not today. This one little post, today, isn’t for all the lovely Mothers. The Mothers I do respect and celebrate, and admire. I wonder daily how you do the amazing, important, difficult job you do. We should give you flowers every day. Today, this is for the ones who are still waiting. For the ones who know the waiting is over. This is for you. This is for us.

Jani Franck

[wtffundiefamilies]

redwhirlwind89 said:  Isn’t it gross? Doesn’t help that David and Priscilla look very much related. And blonde/pale like the Dollangangers from Flowers in the Attic. It must be like they did in Ancient Egypt…promote incest to keep the ‘good blood’ in the line.                           

I feel like now is the time to point out that the Dollangangars also did the one-letter theme, Duggars.

      redwhirlwind89

Okay, what the hell is it with these 'special' people and their random anniversaries?! Guys, wait three more months and just call it five years you bloody idiots! I know neither of you can figure out how to open a can of tuna but get a grip!

The only people I’ve ever known who did this were a couple I knew in high school.  We’re 15 years-ish out of high school now, they’re married and have since chilled (though they are still forever my IRL OTP <3 ) The fundies DO seem to be play-acting their first ever high school relationships in their marriages a lot.  Maybe that’s where it comes from. 

    undercoverduggarblog

phillip looks exactly like priscilla’s dad

He really does. 

      discussingtheduggarfam fundie-fun  

TL;DR but these two are so stinking cute about each other.

   miriten discussingtheduggarfam  

I guess that’s what happens when you meet and fall in love instead of being forced into a relationship?

Zach and Whitney really do seem more genuine about each other; most of the fundies seem to be acting the way they think married couples are supposed to.  I never thought about it relating to the fact that they met and got to know each other normally at least at first, without their parents hovering over them.  Whitney having a more normal upbringing (and little interest in converting to the Bates way of life) probably has something to do with it as well.

redwhirlwind89

I also think having no insurance has something to do with it, honestly. There's no way Bum Ben has good insurance for his family...they probably cannot afford a hospital birth.

That’s probably true as well.  I doubt Jill and Derick or Josh and Anna do either.  What is Ben even DOING as a job?  He sure seems to have a lot of free time.

noora7

Are they Indonesians? Hartono is an Indonesian last name.

I think so, yes.

devaleriola wtffundiefamilies  

Where’d you get that? Her face and her clothes are clean.

True; I’m probably being unfair.  Post-Jubilee fiasco I really stopped watching the show as regularly, and I sort of hold the family in my mind at the earlier stages of the show, when the kids would be running around looking disastrous.  I still shudder thinking of Jackson sitting on the floor with the bottoms of his feet jet black, eating spilled Cheerios off the disgusting floor (and he was like 6 at the time).  Shudder.  They’ve improved a bit since then (maybe because the youngest kids now are less likely to be rolling around in the mud and those who were are now too old for that shit).

      nothingelsemakessense

Is this shortly after they moved to DC? I think that's when Anna was at her loneliest, as she didn't have her sisters-in-law to keep her socialized and hadn't realized you can look outside the family for friends yet.

I think it was pretty soon after the move, so that makes sense. 

    redwhirlwind89

Haha, I do feel like poor Anna has so many psychological issues stemming from her not-so-great life that she would come to confide in a toddler.

In general, fundie motherhood seems to be about treating your daughters both as live-in help and “best friends” to dump all your crap on. 

nothingelsemakessense

I hate how they insist on saying what "most people do" as if they have the slightest idea of how people outside of their lifestyle live. They may have a slight idea of things that are done differently, but they have no concept of the day-to-day life of even mainstream conservative Christians.

All they know is what their parents and people in their parents’ mindset tell them, so I can only imagine what they envision.  Probably ritualistic Satanic sacrifices on parentless dates.

nothingelsemakessense

He's definitely too fragile for Jessa's style of humor.

I still don’t get how they ended up together.  He looks hurt and furious every time Jessa teases him, Jessa has little interest in the Donna Reed role he seems to want his wife to fill...eh, probably cuz she’s hot and she was desperate.

      nothingelsemakessense

It's probably from that "train up a child" Bible verse. I heard that one all the time. I've also heard a lot of Christian parents say "We trust you, it's him we don't trust" when a teenage daughter complains about dating rules.

I’ve heard that a lot in secular dating as well, but JFC, if you’re that hardcore religious you’re probably hand-picking your daughters’ dudes anyway.  Like...if JimBob doesn’t trust Ben, why would he be like “Yeah, you’re cool to marry my daughter” in the first place??

nothingelsemakessense

I've actually known a few couples who had their parents go on their honeymoon with them. My cousin even had them in an adjoining room.

Damn.  I never thought I’d look at the Duggar relationship model and go “Eh, could be worse.”

nothingelsemakessense

I hate people who don't understand what topics are good for discussion at a public place where children could be around.

I’m guessing they cleared the mini-golf course so they could film unimpeded and they wouldn’t have to be around women wearing pants or tank tops, therefore ruining Ben for life, but considering that Michelle abandoned Josie in the hospital to protest a convenience store selling beer because teh childrenz might see it...it is pretty goddamn hypocritical of them.

avatargirl1930

I hate this because he was probably 'working late' that night by banging some toothless prostitute.

Ugh, no doubt he ditched her many a time to browse Ashley Madison. 

devaleriola wtffundiefamilies  

She has the same stupid facial expressions as her mother-in-law

To this day I can’t figure out if she started directly imitating Michelle or she was just like this from the start and he was attracted to her because of it.  Either way it’s disturbing.

hiimana wtffundiefamilies  

If it was challenging for you and jim bob y'all should have stopped at 6 not kept going 😒

For real.  No, instead they decided to emotionally manipulate church members and train their daughters to take their place in the family.  MOTHER OF THE YEAR EVERYONE.

wonderfullywicked

"The first daughter is courting and we're more upset/annoyed that we'll be losing a maid than happy that she's courting." Was all I got from Michelle saying this when I first watched it

Undoubtedly true.  Michelle doesn’t seem to like her older daughters much anyway. 

#double dating duggars #19 kids and counting #2014 #thou shalt not commit adultery #deadly sins: lust #waller family #duggar family #keller family #Phillip Waller #Josh Duggar #Anna Keller Duggar #Michelle Duggar #mother of the fucking year #Jessa Duggar #Ben Seewald #Mike Keller #jender roles #Priscilla Keller Waller #J'exchange students #seewald family

[forkanna]

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WARNING: Minor character death in this chapter. Plus some pretty extended foot massage scene for those who may get squicked, haha.

Also a fair notice: this is the penultimate chapter! The one after this will be an epilogue.

CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

The ballroom of the Royal Palace had never looked so grand in all its years of existence. Every available surface was adorned with shimmering green satin, and a grand topiary of each of the Witches of Oz stood in each corner. Some were surprised to notice the fourth was not Ozma, as had been expected, but the young Dorothy Gale. After all, she had no powers of her own. The reasoning had been that she flew in from another world and helped the other witches dispatch Morrible and the Wizard, so she belonged in their ranking.

The wedding itself had been grand, and the gardens did make for the ideal setting. Elphaba recited her vows to Glinda effortlessly, though Glinda stumbled over hers and made such a mess that a few people were laughing by the time she righted her tongue. The Dance of Seasons went off without a hitch, as well as the leg-tying and every other trapping of the ceremony, and they were soon pronounced "Elphaba and Glinda Throppland" to the gathered audience, choosing to combine their names to begin their new family together.

One curious tradition they had observed, confusing many of the gathered nobles, was that they slid a ring onto each other's finger. Many proposed that this must have been a custom when two women were wed, given that this had not been seen very often in Oz — at least, not in an official sense. Women lived together, both for romantic and other reasons, but did not marry to form a family as such. However, there was also a rumour that Dorothy had suggested the gesture.

Queen Ozma herself had officiated, which was also a shock because she was one member of the wedding party, standing quite close beside Dorothy until time to perform her duties. And no minister could have looked happier than she for the brides.

As they spun in a gentle circle on the dance floor, arm in arm, Glinda and Elphaba looked as if they were the only two women left in Oz. All of Elphaba's usual bluster and worry and fire was down to a low flicker, replaced by joy and laughter and a fervent love for the one she had chosen to be with forever. Glinda, as usual, was all smiles, but they were the biggest any could remember.

"Alright!" Glinda called out, unwinding the sash from around her waist. "Who will take my sash?"

"Not I!" called Ozma.

"Nor I!" called Dorothy, looking proud of herself for remembering her role in this ceremony.

"Nor I!" sang Polychrome. She had never looked lovelier, which was really saying something when talking about an actual daughter of the Rainbow itself.

"Will none take my sash?" she asked, as some of the nobles laughed and clapped. "You? Or you?"

Stepping forward on cue, Nessa opened her hands and said, "I, Nessarose Thropp, take this sash from the house of Throppland!" Now the cheering erupted in earnest, and just a bit cheeky, Nessa held it aloft and smiled.

"Good! Let it be known that now, the house of Thropp will become the house of our children if needs be, and theirs ours! We are bonded!"

Once the cheers had finally petered out, Nessa put the sash around her waist, needing Dorothy's help to get it fastened. As she did, she muttered, "Not that there will be children for either of us, anyway."

"Well, I don't know," Glinda mused. "We've been talking about that. And we thought we might try to get- well, it's not a pleasant thought, exactly, but maybe a trusted noble?"

"A baby for each of us," Elphaba added, joining them with a glass of pale green wine for each of them. This was definitely not the pungent liquor which had helped make Elphaba the way she was. "Well, we're still negotiating that, but it seems to be the deal we keep coming back to; one of us will take the first turn, then the other will wait a pair of years until we've adjusted to the one we already have."

"How very businesslike," Nessa laughed.

"Well," Dorothy whispered softly, leading them all a little further from the crowd, "you may… not have to ask a noble."

"What do you mean?" Glinda asked.

"Well…"

This time, Elphaba got a little impatient and laughed, "Well, what? Come on, Dorothy, you can tell us anything."

She only looked at Ozma for a moment, who looked equal parts horrified and bashful. But she was smiling. "I thought we weren't going to mention this until tomorrow!"

"Aw, I know," Dorothy hissed, cheeks bunched. "The wedding an' all. It's their day! But if they want children, well, shouldn't they know right away, on account of not tryin' to find some noble?"

"What, what?!" Elphaba, Glinda and Nessarose all demanded together. The little group got quiet for a moment as they waited for Dorothy to work up her courage. This time, not even Elphaba cajoled her, for she could tell this was near impossible for the girl to say.

"I… I'm, um… I'm gonna have a baby."

There was no immediate reaction. Just sheer confusion and a lot of blinking and glancing between each other. Then Nessa asked, "What do you mean, Dorothy? Where are you getting a baby from?"

"From my belly," she laughed, pushing against her flouncy dress. The bump was scarcely noticeable, but when she outlined it in such a way, it became clear that either she had been eating a little too much and it all chose that area to collect, or…

"You're pregnant?!" Glinda demanded. She was immediately shushed by both Dorothy and Ozma, who were so ruddy-faced they probably could have used their cheeks to fry up a decent breakfast. Lowering back to a whisper, she gushed, "You two! Oh my Lurline Above, this is incredifantabulous news, I- a little baby in the Palace!"

There was much squealing and hopping around in a circle, even from Nessa, who was always wary of jumping around too much lest her silver shoes or anklets come loose and she fall. It was probably the only news that could have made the day of their wedding even better, and Glinda was squeezing and kissing their cheeks over and over. It was Elphaba who first stopped the jumping, puzzlement coming back into her features.

"Wait… I hate to poke holes in the mood, but I don't really understand. How can Dorothy be pregnant? It just doesn't make scientific sense. Unless she's been sneaking down to the Philosophy Club and having more fun than a young woman like her ought to have. After all, she's not my mother."

While Nessa frowned at that statement, Dorothy started to make a few gestures, let a couple of "Um"s slip out as she blushed a deeper scarlet and tried to find her words. Meanwhile, Ozma was conspicuously silent. Eventually, it was Glinda, of all those gathered, who could answer that burning question.

"Oh… you know, I did think I felt something that day, but I thought it would be rude to mention…" Her eyes alighted on the queen. "I didn't imagine it, did I?"

"You did not," Ozma confessed, fingers fidgeting. "And I can't tell you how much I appreciate you not making a big fuss about what happened. I felt awful, and you were always so nice to help me dress, even though you're a Councilwoman and not a staff member. Lurline Above… I didn't mean to trip onto you!"

"It's alright!" she giggled, feeling a fresh flutter in the pit of her stomach all over again as she thought back to the moment she had brushed into the corner of her mind. One warm little squish against her hip had been enough to really get her panicking that day, but eventually, she had told herself to forget about it. All in all, it really wasn't her business what lay hidden beneath the skirts of their monarch, anyway.

But this was new information for the Thropp sisters. Nessa's eyes narrowed, and one of her index fingers came up. "Hold on. Are we saying what I think we're saying?" Dorothy shrugged, still looking very shy about everything. "But… but the Truth Pond! You were changed! Shouldn't it have taken care of- of that, as well?"

"Yes, exactly!" Elphaba demanded.

"Guess the magic in the Pond water figured this was close enough," the queen said with a shrug, though she looked extremely nervous to be confessing to this at last. "Of course… I can imagine if we were able to have Mombi cast a spell to turn me back, it would have taken care of that along with the rest of my body, but that wasn't what changed me. The water just… did what it felt was important to reveal the truth of who I am, and apparently, this one part… wasn't important enough?"

"Apparently not," Nessa breathed. "And now that I think of it, you never did ask any of us for supplies for your time of the month…"

"Jellia asked. And when I had to explain to her why I didn't need any, she seemed… confused, but not shocked or disgusted. Which was quite a relief!"

Glinda folded her arms over her chest and drawled out, "Woooow. Lucky you, Dorothy!" Then Elphaba slapped her upper arm, and she yelped, "Ow! Elphie, that wasn't necessary!"

"Neither is making the poor girl look like vomiting any more than she already does," she chuckled darkly. Which also made Dorothy look worse, but at least the tallest of the Witches was trying to head off the teasing before it started. "Well, I guess everything turned out for the best, since you're on your way to motherhood."

At this, Dorothy finally allowed herself to look excited again. "Oh, I know! Well, I didn't ever give much thinkin' to bein' a mother myself, what with losin' my own so young, but… oh, a little boy or girl all my own, and raisin' her or him right here in the Emerald City? With Ozma? It's… I can't imagine a better place!"

"Agreed," Ozma said with a proud-but-bashful smile. "The child will want for nothing, and have not two, but five mothers. Isn't that the best we could hope for?"

Elphaba squinted at her, still smiling. "Wouldn't this situation make you the father?"

"Perhaps. But I prefer to think that, though I fathered the child, what I am is a mother."

"If you say it is so, My Queen, then it's so," Elphaba told her with a bow. And they were all close enough friends to know that this was not a sarcastic gesture in the slightest. Ozma's smile returned, and she gave a regal nod of acknowledgement.

Suddenly, both of Glinda's hands popped up. "Whoa, whoa, wait. Dorothy… you brought this up, saying that we wouldn't have to find a noble… are you really suggesti- OH MY OZ!"

At this, Ozma finally did lose a bit of her regal bearing as she turned to Dorothy and hissed, "I told you I was thinking-" she poked her ribs "-about-" another poke "-it!" The last one made Dorothy finally squirm away, giggling and grinning like a cat with a canary in its mouth. Which was a look that did not often grace the Kansasian girl's features. "Not that I wanted to offer them the option the day of their wedding!"

By now, both Elphaba and Glinda were looking nearly as embarrassed as the other couple. After a few seconds, Elphaba cleared her throat and said, "Well." She looked as if she would say more, except that it never came to pass.

"Wow, you finally found a way to shut my sister up," Nessa observed with a little nod of satisfaction. "I'm impressed."

"Ozzie, you'd really…?" Glinda fanned herself with her gloved hand, feeling distinctly warmer now and wishing she could blame it on the drink that she had barely sipped.

"Well, I'm not sure!" the queen said, looking quite a lot smaller and uncertain than she had in all the months since she was first revealed to be princess in the courtroom, cheeks nearly the colour of her elegantly-arranged red curls. "It was only an idea! With you two getting married, and Dorothy pregnant, I naturally suggested… that if you did want someone to h-help with… ugh, this is too strange, isn't it? We're good friends, and this seems like the most uncomfortable thing for friends to ever do, even if it would be for an important cause!"

Elphaba patted down the front of her elegant black satin dress as she said, "Blindfolds. Blindfolds and earmuffs, and that's if I even decide I can handle this idea! This is- I can't even think of…"

"Well, I'm v-very flattered by the offer," Glinda attempted, blushing and trying not to feel too flattered by it. This was the last way she had ever wanted to think about her little Ozma! "Maybe we won't have to go about it the way we think we have to, right? There has to be some kind of- oh! Elphie, what if we looked through the Grimmerie and found a spell?"

"A spell to do what? Catch Ozma's-" She paused, struggling for a slightly less offensive word than whichever one had first come to mind. "Ozma's essence without us having to… oh, this is a disaster waiting to happen."

"Let's just agree to think about it," Ozma said firmly, looking even more like she wanted to vanish than she had moments ago. "Alright? I haven't decided if I'm comfortable with having to create it the way we would in the first place, and don't expect you to, either. But… it's an idea, right? If each of you want a child…"

Nessa was smirking as she put in, "You could do a lot worse for a father than a beautiful queen. A mother to father the baby," she corrected, earning her a sigh of relief from the Ruler herself.

"I really didn't want to bring this up today," she repeated, looking earnestly between the newlywed couple. "I'm so happy for the two of you right now! Please, just forget all about it, alright? Enjoy each other, and your new life together, and… and this wonderful ball!"

Glancing down at the ring around her finger, then back up at Elphaba, who still looked queasy at the prospect of taking the steps necessary to create life with Ozma, of all people, Glinda pulled her closer and leaned up to leave a brief kiss upon her lips. "She's right, you know. We should just be happy we have a friend good enough to offer something like that. And that we're together."

"Together…" Elphaba returned the kiss, then smiled. "You're right. As usual."

"Let's go upstairs now. Then we can come back in time to cut the cake!"

"Yes, I do think that's a good plan. Majesty, if you'll excuse us?"

"Of course," she said with a wide smile. "We'll be here."

Elphaba began to move off, then hesitated, pointing a finger down toward Ozma's hips. "You keep that safe and sound just in case we need to make use of it." That made the Ruler's smile disappear into a cloud of blushing the likes of which the Land of Oz had never seen before.

As they ascended the steps of the Palace into the second floor, Elphaba sighed, letting go of some of the odd tension that had been building between her shoulders ever since the topic of children had been breached anew. Hearing it, Glinda patted the hand wrapped around her elbow. "You alright?"

"Of course. Just… well, I hate that we even require Ozma to extend such an offer. Unconventional though it may be."

"You want to be the daddy of my baby?"

"Of course." She had been teasing, so the serious answer surprised Glinda. "Or vice versa. But… I know that's stupid. No sense in wishing for something that's impossible. Even if Mombi's spells were still around to use, and they weren't outlawed and a bad idea to toy with… it would be living a lie to change either one of us into a man."

"What about Ozzie? She's not living a lie."

"No, but she didn't get changed back with a spell of equal intent. Although I suppose the Truth Pond seems to think she's a woman exactly the way she is, and who are we to argue with the Truth?"

"True. I mean, um, yes. But I think she's a marvellous queen, no matter what."

"Obviously." After a moment of contemplative silence, Elphaba asked, "She tripped onto you, hm?"

Glinda squirmed, then whispered, "Don't ever bring it up to her again. Poor embarrassed thing! But yeah, I definitely felt a something down there that couldn't be explained any other way. Just wasn't sure, and didn't want to ask about it, so I… didn't. You understand."

"Not at all," Elphaba laughed. "Afraid I never got close to that particular piece of anatomy so I have no frame of reference."

"Well, neither have I! But there's only so many squishy things that a person can own between their thighs, right?!" As she laughed even more, Glinda pursed her lips and shook her head. "You're so crass."

"I love you," she cooed, leaning over to press her lips into Glinda's cheek. That mollified her a bit. "And I'm only teasing. You know that I don't blame you for withholding that for Ozma's privacy, and that I'm actually very pleased that she would offer to sire our children. It's just… an idea that will take a lot of getting used to."

Shaking her head, she said, "I don't think I can take Little Ozzie to bed. I'd rather sleep with a total stranger."

"Not me. This is much preferable."

"Really?"

"Of course. This way, I don't have to expose myself to someone I don't trust. Also, our child will have the blood of a close friend instead of some idiot noble with whom I'm scarcely acquainted. It's still not something I'm wild about, but I wasn't wild about the other option, either."

"Huh." Glinda had to blink several times. Then she finally shrugged and said, "Those are pretty good points. Just… really weird mental picture, you with Ozzie. Or me with her!"

"Then stop picturing it!" she burst out exasperatedly. Then she leaned in close and said, "Picture me with you, instead. Putting my hands all over your body tonight…"

That did the trick. It got Glinda to giggle gaily all the way to the room that was their destination.

The Wizard — Oscar, as they now knew him — was still confined to bedrest. Several times, he had awoken and carried on a short conversation with whoever was in the Palace to go and speak with him, but then he would lapse into slumber again for days, or weeks. Elphaba had brewed something to help give him strength, but it only mattered on the days in which he was already awake. He had not been awake the morning of the wedding, and the ceremony had to proceed without him. But Elphaba still wanted to greet him on the day she was married to her love.

"Father?" she said in a firm, carrying tone. "It's your daughter, Elphaba."

No answer.

"I've been married today. To Glinda, as… as I told you I would." She gently eased onto the edge of the bed, taking up his hand. Her other darted into the top of her dress, withdrawing a small scrap of paper. "I'd like to read for you the vow I said to her. Maybe you won't hear it, but… if you do, then at least you won't have missed everything."

Glinda wanted to leave them alone, to have their little moment. But she also desperately wanted to hear her wife's vows again, to bask in the sweetness that she normally kept locked up tight within her breast. There weren't many such opportunities.

"'The moment I laid eyes on you, Glinda, I was filled with a feeling I had never felt before. Sudden, and new, and overwhelming. My pulse was rushing, my head reeling… I didn't know what to call it. At first, I was sure it was loathing; what else might I feel for a woman who was everything I wasn't? Jealousy, and hatred. There was a strange exhilaration to it that seemed to tell me I was wrong, but I resisted. So strongly. Until the day I realised that the woman in the other bed was not my enemy; she was my best friend. A sister and adviser who tried to make me popular and beautiful, and failed. But along the way, you showed me something I didn't expect: love, and compassion, and tenderness. You brought me bliss. So much of me is made of what I learned from you. So whatever way our stories end, Glinda Upland… you have completely rewritten mine. And I want to finish ours together.'"

By the end of it, both new wives were crying afresh. Glinda felt her own vows were completely underwhelming compared to hers, sappy lines about comets pulled from orbit and people coming into other's lives for a reason, but during the ceremony, it had made Elphaba's eyes fill with so much love it looked like they might not be able to contain it all. And that was what mattered.

"Oh…"

They both started and looked up at the Wizard to see that his eyes were open and streaming. He hadn't moved otherwise, but he had most certainly been asleep when they first entered.

"Father?" Sitting upright, she said, "I'll get the healers. We must-" But his head shook from side to side, very slightly. "What is it?"

His mouth moved. Elphaba leaned down, further and further until her ear was a hair's breadth from his mouth, holding as still as possible. Glinda clutched at her heart and waited. When her wife sat back, she had wide eyes and a palm pressed over her mouth, and the Wizard was still smiling with his eyes up at her. His daughter nodded once. Then the Wizard closed his eyes and relaxed.

Only a moment later, Elphaba gestured for Glinda to follow her out of the room. Once out in the hallway, she hissed, "What did he say, what did he say?!"

"He… said he loved me." Voice tight, entire body shaking, she looked up into Glinda's face. "He said, 'Congratulations. I love you.' That was it. I… don't know why I feel like he should have said more, like maybe 'sorry I was never around', 'sorry about the Animals'... when it's a miracle he even said that much today. What an ungrateful brat I am."

Glinda held her tightly, caressing over her back. "Shhh, it's okay. I'm here."

So Elphaba cried. She cried there in the hallway with her brand new wife's arms around her, and they both grieved for all the missed opportunities. The lives denied to them. While Glinda was more contented with her own fate, she fully understood the pain in Elphaba's heart, and wished to do anything she might to mend it as best she could. She would spend a thousand lifetimes doing that.

"I'm alright," Elphaba finally sighed into her shoulder, kissing it gently before she pulled back to smile down at her love. "Thank you. Oh… we had better get back to the reception."

"We don't have to if you're not up to it, you know. It's our reception, right?" When her wife laughed, she kissed her tears away. "Let's head back down that way and just… take our time. We'll get there when we get there."

So they did precisely that. It was almost an hour before anyone saw them again, though the celebration was still going strong. Their three friends welcomed them with open arms, and dragged them over to cut the cake. Stories were told, Polly danced while Fiyero sang, and all gathered had not a word to say against the loveliest party in the history of the Emerald City. It was precisely what they needed to get their minds off estranged fathers and babies, and other worries of the future. For tonight, there was only love and magic.

And chocolate cake, of course.

                                    ~ o ~

The Wizard of Oz passed away in the wee hours of the morning, four days after the wedding. He had not woken again, and seemed to be smiling when he slipped loose from the mortal coil. Even though Elphaba had remarked "That's probably just gas", everyone could tell how truly aggrieved she was.

The entire kingdom was draped in black that day. The corner of the garden that now played host to the Wizard's statue was opened to the public, though Jack Pumpkinhead complained about having to mend the hedgerow that had been opened to allow them in to lay flowers and pay tribute to their former Ruler. He understood, of course, but the garden was his domain now. Elphaba gave a brief speech, doing her best to focus on the good things about him and not to dwell on the negatives.

Within the next month, the announcement was finally made that Ozma was to wed Dorothy of Kansas. It was timely, because she was already pregnant and had been avoiding appearances because of the increasingly-obvious bulge. The kingdom became rife with whispers about the heir being "fairy magic" and "a miracle", and given that it wasn't any of their business how the baby had truly come into being, the rumours would have to persist.

Another two weeks after that wedding, there came another announcement: Glinda's pregnancy. It had been quite the awkward affair, and in fact they needed to make two attempts because on the first try, the blindfolded Ozma had been so nervous that she ended up making a mess out of the sheets rather than performing the deed they had intended. But by now, it was simply a funny story to share between the five of them, even if the story resulted in much blushing and groaning from the poor queen.

Glinda would never tell anyone - not even dear Elphie - just how little she minded the two encounters, either. Some things were better left unsaid. But taking a page out of a younger Dorothy's book, she merely imagined she had a passing affair with "Tip" and it was over and done with.

Even more speculation arose about the Coven of Oz and where the children were coming from when, a month later, Nessarose made a similar announcement. There weren't even any high-ranking male servants to peg as obvious suspects, and the only men they frequently spoke with were a Scarecrow and a Lion, neither of which could father a child. So a lot more mutterings of "blessed by Lurline herself" were uttered by the citizens. However, the Witches knew that it was because Nessa needed something in her life other than her duties as a member of the Council. They kept trying to reassure her that another man would come along, someone better suited to her than Boq ever was, but she eventually assured them that she didn't mind anymore. She was learning to enjoy her life as a single woman, beholden to no relationship. They tried to be as supportive as they could, and with good friends around her, she never wanted for companionship.

Other than the night with Ozma, of course. They also began to make a lot of jokes about that, and what a "stud horse" she had turned out to be. Dorothy was the one to get them to calm down with her disapproving frowns, which were almost impossible for anyone to fight against. That was important, given how the queen really did seem to regret her offer at times.

And so life went. The five women were closer than ever, and continued to try their best to change the way Oz was for the good. With the Animals supplementing the workforce, the way was smoother to improve the economic situation, and a particularly bountiful harvest had left them with a lot easier of a job. Eventually, there was some reform to the relations with the Quadling Country, as well, and the Glikkus. Before too long, taxes could be reduced again in some areas where they truly could not afford them, even if the nobles were upset with their own taxes being increased to compensate — but with Ozma making the declaration, anyone opposing her looked like a boor and a bully. Prosperity reigned, and joy was the ever present mood.

                                    ~ o ~

Winter gave way to Spring, and the five found themselves on Ozma's private balcony, enjoying a private moment ensured by the pillared railing around it and the gardens spread out below. Stuffed loungers had been arranged out there once the weather turned for the purposes of relaxing in the cool breeze, enjoying the sun and the sounds of nature. Dorothy looked quite ready to pop, and Glinda was beginning to get there herself. Nessa's bump was more modest and manageable.

This meant it was up to Elphaba and Ozma to tend their soon-to-be mothers. Elphaba would grumble occasionally, but mostly they fetched tea and pillows and cakes or other such snacks with little complaint. Ozma almost seemed to cherish it.

"Why are you always smiling?" Glinda finally asked with a suspicious little smile. "Proud daddy of three?"

"I told you not to call me that," Ozma grumbled, though she was smiling, as well. Once the pillow was in place, she helped Glinda ease back and petted over her hair before moving around to take Dorothy's glass. "More tea?"

"No thank you, servant," Dorothy giggled, eyes full of love. Glinda's smile changed as she watched them. She always had about the same smile on her lips when she watched the two Princesses. "Just sit by me for a spell. I miss you too much when you're jumpin' all over the place like a grasshopper on fire."

Ozma bowed. "Your wish is my command." She took up the small wooden chair and placed it next to her wife's lounger, taking up her hand and joining them together.

"You really like this, don't you?" Glinda accused, returning to her previous topic. "Helping us. I can see you do, but I guess I just don't understand why. You're the queen!"

"Right. And you're my friends; well, friends and one wife, of course. And you're going to have babies soon! Why shouldn't I want to help you?"

"No, no, there's more to this."

Shrugging and staring out at the few clouds scudding across the sky, the little queen finally remarked, "I feel useful. Sometimes, it's as if all I can do is sit on my behind all day and listen to Ozians complain. That's something a dead stump could do! When I'm taking care of you three… it's really, truly important I do that. So you can be in less pain, and have healthy children when it's time."

"Awwww," Nessa cooed. Ozma bristled, thinking she was being mocked again, but when she turned she saw that real tears were sliding down her cheeks. "Th-that's so beautiful! Oh, my goodness…"

"Pregnancy moods are finally kicking in," Glinda observed with a titter. "Knew they would eventually."

As Ozma got Nessa a handkerchief, Elphaba returned with a steaming hot loaf of bread and a stick of butter. She cut off six slices, buttered them and handed them out, leaving one for anyone who might wish for seconds. Then she perched between Dorothy and her wife on another chair.

"Jellia says there's trouble brewing along the border," she sighed. "Something about gnomes from the Land of Ev popping in unannounced. So far, the Pike Guild is taking care of them, but we may need to send additional troops."

"We'll have Fiyero see to the troops," Ozma sighed. At that moment, Dorothy shifted and squirmed a little. "You alright?"

She shrugged a little and smiled up at her wife. "Yeah, my Canopy. Just fine." But the way her legs were shifting uncomfortably told another story. Before Ozma could stand, Elphaba moved her chair down to the end of the lounger. "Wait- Miss Elphaba, what are-"

"Don't worry," she sighed, pulling off the slippers and beginning to massage her feet. Dorothy relaxed immediately, an involuntary reaction of pure relief. The queen was still in a half-crouch, so she told her sternly, "You sit with your wife; I don't mind."

"Thank you," Ozma told her in a very earnest voice. The Kansas girl groaned a few times, flexing her toes, then just melted completely and lay there with a vague smile on her face while she clung to her wife's hand.

"This is truly the benefit of the 'it takes a village' method of child-rearing, isn't it?" Nessa laughed from nearby.

"It is. Though if we do this again, I think we ought to space these babies apart more thoughtfully than we have."

"I'm sorry!" Nessa cried out, though it was a little sarcastic. They all chuckled — other than Dorothy, who was barely a step away from actually asleep. "I don't even have a husband to do that for me. Some people get all the luck."

"Do you want your feet rubbed by your sister?" Elphaba asked.

"At this point? I'd almost consider it." But they knew she wouldn't ever ask. Even when complaining about the pains of the added weight on her poor tootsies, Nessarose had declined to let anyone take care of the problem. The best they could do was conjure a self-warming bowl of water so she could soak them in the privacy of her chambers.

After a minute or two, Glinda asked, "Do you really want to go through this next time, Elphie? Maybe we can just… stick with the one child. It's not as much fun as it looks."

Throwing back her head to laugh, the snappish sound startling a bird into taking flight from the top of a nearby tree. "Really? I think you just want to get out of the job of waiting on me when it's my turn!"

"Hey! That is not why I said that, I just- ohhh, you're impossible!"

As the rest of them chuckled, Glinda began to do the same uncomfortable shifting that Dorothy had before. Honestly, she hadn't been thinking that she would manipulate anyone into giving her a footrub; they just hurt. She wasn't as hefty as Dorothy yet, but getting there, and even waddling down the hallway to Ozma's chambers had brewed some fresh pain for her.

She didn't count on Ozma patting Dorothy's hand and getting up, rounding the lounger to sit at the end and prise her shoes off. "Okay, now what are you doing?"

"The same thing," she said with a smile as her thumbs bit into the swollen arch, prompting a groan of agony from its owner. "Taking care of my friend's wife. Or my wife's friend? However you want to look at it."

"You've done that enough," Elphaba accused. "Already put her in this condition in the first place."

"Lay… off her," Glinda panted, already nearly as gelatinous as Dorothy was. "She's… doing… Lurline's work down there… oh mmmyyyyyy…"

"Yousssaidamouthvulllll," Dorothy agreed. Sort of.

Even while she continued to rub, Ozma leaned down and left a little peck on the tip of the big toe before sitting back and saying, "You've done this for me so many times, when I was new to the throne. It's my turn. Besides… like Elphaba said, it's my fault you're in pain, so I should help take care of it. Seems pretty simple, right?"

"The queen is kissing my feet," Glinda tittered. "What fever dream is this?"

"Way to show me up," Elphaba grumbled over at her, and Nessa and Glinda giggled. The third expectant mother was too far gone to manage even that.

But Glinda never thought she was shown up at all. Even if no one else knew, she knew that her wife was one of the sweetest women in all of Oz. She just liked to cover it with bluster and thorns. And if that meant that she had the true Elphaba Throppland all to herself, she could live with that.

"You could take it as a challenge," Nessa laughed.

"I'm not kissing Dorothy's feet. Love her though I do."

"You can leave that to me," Ozma offered. "I would do it any day of the week." A little 'awww' issued from Dorothy, and the two exchanged such a sappy look that Elphaba only curled her lip.

"Such a subservient queen," Glinda accused with a wink. The slightly bashful Ozma dipped her head in chagrin - which only put her face closer. "Kiss… mine again while you're there, won't you?"

Now Ozma was blushing. But even though there was no reason she should, she did as she was asked; Glinda only had enough time to gasp, and her protests were cut off by the sensation of regal lips on the ball of her foot, the thumbs still digging in further down. It set her pulse racing a little faster to be tended to in this way.

"Maybe we should both work on you at the same time," her wife teased, releasing the dazed Dorothy to take up the nearest foot to work with her thumbs as Ozma switched to the other. The Gilikin woman's moan was as grateful as it was affected - though she tried to mask that with a clearing of her throat immediately afterward.

A bemused Ozma whispered, "I think she likes it."

"Always did love attention." More little kisses from two sets of lips got Glinda pushing a hand into her mouth to silence herself. Clearly trying to goad her, Elphaba poked her tongue between two toes and got a delightfully girlish titter for her effort. "Hmm… I may have to take her back to our room sooner than planned."

"Or I might go back to mine," Nessa announced, clearly uncomfortable with the display. That probably had a lot more to do with the particular area of anatomy in question than anything else, but her sister being involved was not going to help.

However, it was Dorothy who said, "Please stay. Just… here…"

When she began to heave from side to side, trying to get up from her chair, Ozma cried, "Canopy, don't! You're in no condition to-"

"I… reckon I can handle… this!" Finally she was stood up, and she waddled around the other two wives who were still kneeling in front of Glinda to where Nessarose was reclining. Sitting on the end of the lounger, she pulled Nessa's slippered feet into her lap.

"Wait, you can't- I'm not going to allow-"

"Hush up. It's not going to hurt you; if you really hate it that much, I'll quit right away. Promise. If anybody needs a good massage, after all those years of you not lettin' anybody touch 'em…"

The slippers were gone, and the pale feet were trying to hide behind each other. Glinda was completely distracted from Elphaba and Ozma now: this had been something she would always hope got resolved. Poor Nessie. Would little Dorothy really be able to make a breakthrough?

"But they're… not…" Her entire body seized when the hands laid on them. "O-ooh… please be careful, I'm not very… confident…"

"They're just feet," she insisted firmly as she began to massage one of them - and Nessa bit down on her lip hard. "'Course, Uncle Henry and Aunt Em…" Another pause as she recovered from the painful memory. "They knew to give each other a good rubdown after a long day's work. Feet and shoulders, and sometimes hands or the middle of the back if they said they needed it. Your body's the most important tool you got, isn't it?"

Breathy pants began to fall from Nessarose's lips as she felt the thumbs gliding up and down the aching muscles, biting into her joints. And these were definitely sexual. Glinda felt herself already blushing, and she saw Elphaba turning away with wide eyes of mingling surprise and horror. Ozma was only stifling giggles.

"O-ohhh… you should… stop, it's- NHH! Oh, Dorothy, where did you learn to do this?!"

"I told you!" she protested with a giggle.

"But you're… I… OH!"

When they all looked up afresh, they saw Nessa had snuck one hand into her own lap. And she held it very still, eyes wide in shock. True, there wasn't much of anywhere it could go through the fabric of her dress… but her involuntary goal was readily apparent.

"Well," Elphaba said in a deadpan. "Guess my little sister has a special spot. Great. Definitely needed to know about that."

"I'm sorry," Nessa breathed, eyes wide as she glanced around at all of them. "This is so… I'm s-sorry, I really shouldn't have agreed to let you try, Dorothy. This was a m-mistake."

But it was Ozma who responded, standing to move to the chair between Glinda and Nessa's loungers. "Don't feel too upset. We all have things we like, and… we have to find them out as we go along. There's a spot on Dorothy's neck that really gets her g-"

"OZMA!" Dorothy yelped desperately, and Elphaba chuckled.

"A-anyway! If you want, you and Dorothy could go back to my room, and… and keep going? Or I could take you, or…"

Never before had Glinda seen Nessarose looking as rosy-cheeked as she did right now. Which, underneath her secondhand embarrassment, was actually a wonderful thing, given how sickly and gaunt the younger Thropp had once been. "Ozma, no… you, touching my feet? You shouldn't. Not any of theirs, either; you're our Queen."

"And you are my Nessa. Those are only words." Glancing at Dorothy, who only smiled back, she continued, "Like they keep saying, I got you this way in the first place. I consider this part of my duty, to make you feel good however I can."

"Not that good." But Ozma was already helping her stand, Dorothy having put the slippers back on. Elphaba stood to help guide her. "Wait - Fabala, stop them, y-you don't want this to happen to your sister, do you?"

"I don't want to think about it at all, thanks. But… I think you need this, Sister. Tell Ozma 'no' and mean it, or let her take care of you."

Nessa couldn't find any more protestations. After a second or two, the other two were gone, and Elphaba took her sister's vacant lounger with a sigh as Dorothy plopped back into her own.

"Alone at last," she sighed, squeezing Glinda's hand.

"Hey!" Dorothy protested. "I'm… here, too!"

"You'll be asleep within minutes."

"Will not."

She was. And then only the first wives of the Coven were reclining on the bacony, hand in hand and gazing toward the sun in its cloudy sky.

"Life is really wonderful."

"It is, sometimes. And other times, it's…"

Glinda squeezed her hand. "Thank you for not finishing that gloomy thought."

"Of course."

"Elphie?" No answer, so she asked anyway: "Did you ever dream… we would end up here?"

"In the Palace? No, never." When she saw Glinda's glare, she smirked. "Fine. No, I never would have predicted you and I would be married and having children someday. But I also never predicted Nessa would be my sister again, and I would have a father from another realm. Lurline has strange plans for us sometimes."

"She does. But I'm in love and starting a family, which… was always my plan. That and changing Oz for the better - and hey, look at that! Something else I got checked off my list."

"True, true," Elphaba laughed. "My intrepid wife is unstoppable." Then they turned to gaze over at each other, eyes swimming with affection. "My Sugarsnap."

"My Artichoke."

Though Dorothy's quiet snoring might have ruined the atmosphere for others, it certainly did nothing to lessen the sweetness of their kiss for Elphaba and Glinda. They had been through far worse and come out on top. And they would always do that for each other, come what may.

                                    To Be Concluded…

#The Coven of Oz #forkanna writes #wicked fanfiction #wizard of oz #jess the writer

[nicemango-feed]

Female Shariah Judges: Women Oppressing Women, that's Feminism!

The other day I came across this atrocious, laughable satire-like Al Jazeera piece which framed a female shariah judge handing out punishments to women for adultery and shit as “feminist”. 

Yes, you read that right. 

h/t @peppermint

------

'Female', 'empowered' and 'Islamic law' are words that simply do not go together, unless you’re hardcore into mental gymnastics, sort of like the alt-right #TradLife women who think REAL women’s empowerment is to free them from the shackles of feminism where they have to work, so they can stay home and raise babies and do laundry (which is real freedom).  [Not that there's anything wrong with that if you choose it, but there is something wrong with shitting on women who work outside the home]

a future for children is more important than your stupid career. 👨‍👩‍👧‍👦🤰🏻💕 #motherhood #feminism #whitegenocide #family #tradlife http://pic.twitter.com/onMvO5VeFW

— Emily Dawson (@EmilyDawsons) May 27, 2017

I make these comparisons to the alt right so my fellow lefties who often (out of good intent to protect marginalized minorities) slip into romanticizing conservative Islam, can recognize this form of dishonest rightwingery too. Conservative Islam is just the stauncher, stricter sibling of Western conservatism. It deserves no protection and is a roadblock to progress, just like the far-right is in the West. Shielding the Islamic right from criticism and standing up against anti-muslim bigotry are two different things entirely...and the quicker the left can understand how to separate the two, the better equipped we will be to combat the Western far-right who exploit the left's confusion and weakness on this. 

To see how it feels watching Shariah sanitized or Islamic Conservatism glamourized if you are from a Muslim background, check out these videos below. They are vile, disgusting and backwards. So too is Islamic religious law that places women beneath men, that orders them to dress modestly lest they 'invoke lust'. 

It's the same kind of nonsense as these clips...keep that in mind when reading the next 'burqa is empowering' 'mohammed was a feminist' article. Those are our #TradLife women.

"women must be removed from political power" (although still of course backs Le Pen) in order to "reestablish a fierce & strong patriarchy". http://pic.twitter.com/veGhSMX0c3

— Nikolashvili (@ViniKako) February 14, 2017

women "sell out their people" & only way to get them "in line" is "public humiliation", so women welcoming refugees need a "public beating". http://pic.twitter.com/YaHrMZWNEE

— Nikolashvili (@ViniKako) February 15, 2017

(clips via @vinikako)

Anyway, enough of this great friend and ally of Rubin...back to the Al Jazeera piece. 

The article states,

"One day she could be sentencing an offender to be CANED for breaking Islamic law, the next could see her giving a man permission to take a second wife. Islamic law enforcers are not often credited with being feminist pioneers, but Judge Nenney fits both those descriptions.” (emphasis mine)

Are you fucking kidding me? How is this a real quote…one day you’re granting permission to cane women for not being modest enough, and another you’re granting a guy permission to add women to his marriage-harem, luxuries that are not afforded to women….and somehow you are a fucking *feminist pioneer*? 

So...because you’re a woman who got a job as a judge....to help further oppress women under a disgustingly patriarchal religious system of governance…putting all that nasty stuff aside and focusing on the fact that you know…you got this 'high powered job' in a 'male dominated industry', obviously means you’re a feminist shattering stereotypes - this is very much from the Rubin playbook. 

“Putting aside the content of his tweet” - surely you have seen Rubin's commentary where he asks to disregard the content of the atrocious thing in question, as he goes on to defend or downplay it in some way. 

Shariah-fauxminism is just a deeper shade of what PJW of Infowars peddles when he thinks ‘blocking' Marine le Pen is un-feminist. Let that sink in.

So-called "feminists" are trying to block people voting for a woman. She would be the first female president of France. Let that sink in. http://pic.twitter.com/dUM89QAbCQ

— Paul Joseph Watson (@PrisonPlanet) April 23, 2017

As if women HAVE to be on board with Marine le Pen's vile politics simply because she's a woman. Isn't PJW a critic of 'sjw' identity politics? I guess its ok to use the stupidest and simplest form of ID politics if it suits your far right agenda. 

Yet another critic of 'Identity politics' is seen engaging in it here:

In an interview with an anti-Semite who likes David Duke & Farrakhan ... Rubin calls liberals racists. http://pic.twitter.com/Y0HLA1hN0Y

— Nikolashvili (@ViniKako) April 6, 2017

(Clip via @vinikako)

Rubin claims liberals are *racist* for not liking Ben Carson (riiiight because the only reason they don’t like him must be his race - never mind the guy Rubin is actually speaking with here is a guy who blames slavery on blacks and says the Jews chose the holocaust. This is a guy who goes on David Duke's show to say vile things about Jews. And the 'real racism' that Rubin spots in all of this is liberals not accepting Ben Carson....because of his race. 

It's the same shallow twisted logic…from far-right apologists everywhere. They don’t really care about gender or racial equality but like to pretend they do. They appropriate the language of feminism and racial equality to use it for their own means. I've seen this before with Islamists, and I see this now with Rubin and other panderers to the alt right/lite.

I have a long, lonely road ahead of me convincing fellow atheists that lean right, that PJW, Rubin, are advocating for the same bullshit that so many call out in right-wing muslims…and I have to simultaneously convince my fellow lefties that yes even though muslims are an increasingly persecuted minority, and we should stand against anti-muslim bigots every step of the way…that letting this kind of bs slide just fuels the fires of hate. 

It's crazy the Al Jazeera piece describes this shariah judge as a feminist pioneer right? Surely all my fellow skeptics can see that! Well, guess how Rubin describes this guy Sotomayor, this friend of David Duke.....“A black man challenging stereotypes". *facepalm* doesn't quite cover it, eh? 

Rubin himself would be happy to point out the stupidity of the Al Jazeera article, as would many of his fans...but point out the same ridiculousness on their side and you will promptly be shunned as a 'regressive' intolerant of 'diverse viewpoints'.  

"a black man challenging stereotypes" is a hilarious way to describe Tommy Sotomayor http://pic.twitter.com/mZjG4qqDhz

— Tom Bloke (@21logician) April 14, 2017

---

Drawing these parallels is important because it helps show the bad reasoning, similarities and flaws on both sides of the coin here. In both cases its people pandering to the far-right, and masquerading as ‘liberal’ …hijacking the language of liberals to push a far-right agenda. Be it Islamic or Western, it's the same BS in varying degrees.

It’s important also to point out both, so the story isn’t hijack-able by either side's conservatives. And with the rise of the far-right in the West, it’s important to show that these things are mirror images and given power, can be dangerous even here, in the West. 

----

Now, back to the article in question: 

"She made history in Malaysia last year when she was appointed one of the first two female Syariah (shariah) High Court judges in this Muslim-majority nation.”

Woweee, she made HISTORY, she’s just a woman challenging stereotypes…right Rubin? 

"And the 42-year-old mother of three doesn't shy away from imposing the harshest punishments prescribed by Islamic law.”

Look at this badass mommy of the year here….she isn’t shy or meek like people expect Muslim women to be….in fact she imposes some of the HARSHEST shariah punishments, hows that for bold and assertive? Hmph and they say Muslim women are subservient and oppressed. Here she is, oppressing the fuck out of others….and you’re gonna tell me she isn’t empowered. Puh-leez. 

"When I'm on the bench, I'm not a woman, I'm not a man. I'm a judge," she says. "I need to deal with the case fair and firm, to follow the law, no bias.”

You hear that? She’s fair and UNbiased…if you don’t count the 7th century anti-woman bias inherent to shariah. 

And here’s something for you naysayers who don’t believe Malaysia is a hub of progress in the Islamic world;

"In Malaysia, more women are pursuing careers in the Islamic justice system, from judges and lawyers to court mediators.”

——

I mean for fucks sake…is this not something directly out of the handmaid’s tale? ...Where women are taking charge in roles that insure the subservience of women, and are being hailed as some weird-ass, backwards feminist icons for it? Fml. 

What is even the point of highlighting this:

"Malaysia appointed its first two female Syariah (shariah) judges in 2010. Now, 27 of the country's 160 Islamic court judges are women.”

——

Shariah judges are there to help beat women into submission, quite literally… having more women participate in this isn’t a fucking feminist achievement to be proud of. 

"Other countries such as Indonesia, Pakistan and Sudan also have female Islamic law judges, however, some religious scholars argue that Islamic law does not allow women to hold the position.”

You see? See how progressive Malaysia is? 

"We feel that it's extremely important for the courts to have a balance in terms of gender because a lot of the issues involve women. So we need some level of balance in the way in which they deliver justice and also gender sensitisation of the justice system.”

Oh fuck me. 

The level of pretzel brain it takes to think that a gender balance in people 'fucking women over' is a good thing is beyond me. You know, the morality police industry is far too male-dominated, we really need some gender balance among those who whip women for immodesty.   -___-

"Judge Nenney also hears "khalwat" cases, an Islamic offence where unmarried men and women are found together in "close proximity".

She says in the most serious cases, she sentences offenders to six strokes of the cane, a 5,000 ringgit fine ($1,166) and a one-month jail term.

Some critics have suggested that female judges may favour women, but Judge Nenney denies being more sympathetic towards women."

How very ‘feminist’ indeed. Nothing says feminist like corporal punishment for close proximity to the opposite sex. It would be funny as an Onion piece, but in reality it’s just sad.  

Oh look at this women’s advocate here, how very noble, 

"Judge Nenney is hopeful that the rising number of female judges will help change the perception that Syariah courts do no treat women fairly.”

"She says her female clients often find it less difficult to appear before a female judge and court officials.”

Hmm yeah I know when I’m being sentenced to a caning i’d rather receive the sentence from a woman than a man. #YayFeminism

"She is studying both Islamic and civil law at the International Islamic University of Malaysia, but has already decided to pursue a career in Islamic law because she says civil law is "man-made law”.

When you truly believe in 'the cause', you might even help lay down some core laws, and then wonder why the men get all the power and credit, and you yourself end up being mistreated in the end, because woman.... Well you were a part of making that happen...

"To me, it was quite difficult to reach this position. I needed to compete with the male officers," she says. "But it's not about gender now, it's about your qualification."

Ah...true egalitarianism...Nice. Do check out this warm, feel good success story about a struggling woman who finally achieved respect and equality.

——

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A huge thanks to all my patrons, who make it possible for me to spend time on work like this. 

If you enjoy my work, please consider supporting via Patreon here - with your help I can do much more! Special shoutout to new $10 Patrons: Andrew, Debra, Maria, Kyle & Sean

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[caredogstips]

Beyond Lara Croft: 30 absolutely fascinating female tournament characters- part 1

From mad researchers to stealthy bravoes, we celebrate the video game women who get situations done

Over the years, there has been no shortage of articles about the best female characters in video games. The difficulty is, what theyve usually represent is the sexiest female attributes in video games, which has drawn for some very repetition and occasionally rather creepy-crawly reading.

For this alternative pick, three women recreations writers have chosen 30 interesting and complex samples, who have more to offering than either looking good in an armored bikini or fulfilling the strong female reputation archetype. And as Tomb Raiders Lara Croft has predominated every talk about women around games for the last 20 times, shes been respectfully jettisoned more.

There will, of course, be other omissions, but our aim is to generate dialogue and get readers to propose their own favourites. Who have we missed? Who has inspired you? We want to know.

Anyway, here we go with part one. Oh, and spoilers. Obviously.

Midna( The Legend of Zelda: Twilight Princess, 2006 )

Midna Photograph: Nintendo

Twilight Princess is Midnas story. Yes, Link is a necessary component, but its truly all about this insolent gremlin, whose creepy gibberish usage( actually scrambled English words voiced by Japanese performer Akiko Kmoto) and desperation to save her macrocosm make her one of the most memorable comrades in any Zelda game. The conclusion to her legend will leave many devotees with a single dramatic weeping wheeling down their cheek.

Wynne( Dragon Age: Beginnings, 2009 )

Wynne Photograph: Bioware

Wynne is a very rare example of an elderly lady who is neither a powerless nurturing grandmothers nor a scary wizened old-time crone. She is older, knowing and compassionate, but “shes been” refuses to stand idly by although the world crumbles around her. Behind the gumption lies a past that involves illicit fantasy and a child taken away from her at birth. She also has an in depth knowledge of fine ales. Would make a fascinating addition to being able to any dinner party guest list.

Amaterasu( Okami, 2006 )

Amaterasu, Okami Photograph: Capcom

Sun goddess, primal father and parentage of all that is good, Amaterasu( or Ammy to her friends) is an unforgettable booster. Taking the form of a wolf, she reveals her personality through a variety of lupine looks, tilted heading, wagging posterior, returning her heading away in dislike. Despite being a lady, when she acts the move Golden Fury, she urinates with her leg conjured, a mode more commonly associated with male hounds. Amaterasu then: cracking gender norms since 2006.

Jade( Beyond Good and Evil, 2003 )

Jade, Beyond Good and Evil Photograph: Ubisoft

An inquisitive photojournalist, Jade is competent, courageous and driven by a desire to help those around her. Through the long process of designing the specific characteristics( if you look at the photographs on the ceiling of Jades room you will see they evidence her in the early development stages ), the games chairman Michel Ancel was determined to create a rounded hero. When we are beginning[ Beyond Good and Evil] the first thing we enunciated was, if such projects is different its because its a female attribute who is driving the storey, he said. Shes not like other reputations who look like girls but act like guys … Most women around competitions are cliches.

Ada Wong( Resident Evil series, 1996 – )

AdaWong, Resident Evil Photograph: Capcom

A mysterious snoop working for an unknown busines, Ada Wong appears at random levels throughout the survival fright escapade, sometimes helping the exponent but always seeming out for her own interests first. Highly smart and often numerous steps ahead of everyone else, she is never short of a sarcastic remark at the expense of slower characters. Although she officially first shall be published in Resident Evil 2, eagle-eyed participates will notice that Ada is mentioned in the Researchers Letter file in the original recreation and her reputation is the password to a crucial computer terminal. From the very beginning she has lurked in the backdrop of this serial, with her own amusing agenda.

Bonnie MacFarlane( Red Dead Redemption, 2010 )

Bonnie MacFarlane, Red Dead Redemption Photograph: Rockstar

A rancher trying to hold their own families business together in a predominantly male situation, Bonnie is tough but attending, helping the booster John Marston on a number of opportunities. If you want to know how hard their own lives been, going to see Coots Chapel where youll find the tombs of her five friends. The headstone for one of them speaks: Never milk a bullshit. Wise terms we can all live by.

Tetra( The Legend of Zelda: The Wind Waker, 2002; Phantom Hourglass, 2007 )

Tetra, Legend of Zelda: Wind Waker Photograph: Nintendo

Leader of a gang of raiders, despite her young age, Tetra challenges respect and gets it. There are numerous ideologies about the inspiration behind her call. It could allude to the tropical fish of the same name; it could be a tongue-in-cheek including references to terra, the Latin word for district, or perhaps its short for tetrahedron, in reference to the famous Triforce. Whatever it makes, with crossed forearms and a winking, she cuts a sassy figure.

Cass( Fallout: New Vegas, 2010 )

Cass, Fallout: New Vegas Photograph: Fallout: New Vegas game

Tough, smart, but down on her luck, Cass drinks what she requires, sleeps with who she craves and generally does what she requires hence her hate for slave owners and those who take away impunity. Devotees of Fallout 2 acknowledged in her as the daughter of John Cassidy, a potential companion. Both Cass and John suffer from the same hereditary center surrounding, making they shun chems even though it is doesnt applied them off the booze. New Vegas chairman Josh Sawyer originally planned a string in which video games supporter could get drunk with Cass, the two subsequently waking up to discover theyve been married by an Elvis impersonator. Thats our kind of video game romance.

Red( Transistor, 2014 )

Red, Transistor Photograph: Supergiant Games

A young vocalist trapped in a decompose digital world-wide, Red has lost her voice this is why we suffer video games through the mysterious Transistor who acts as a narrator and guidebook. Red often travels against his hopes, though, putting her own safety at risk for what she believes is the best course of action. Reading about this reference almost entirely through her acts is a mesmerizing road to experience a exponent.

Brigid Tenenbaum( Bioshock, 2007 )

Brigid Tenenbaum, Bioshock Photograph: 2K Activity

A vexing examine in motherhood, invention and amorality, Brigid is the technical genius responsible for Bioshocks eerie, genetically modified Little Sisters. Diagnosed with high-functioning autism, she was raised by a Jewish lineage, then interned at Auschwitz where she helped Josef Mengele with his experiments, deeming the Holocaust with callousnes. During the game, however, she realises the extent of her misery, simultaneously attending for the Little Sisters and regretting her part in their genesis.

Aveline de Grandpre( Assassins Creed III: Liberation, 2012 )

Aveline brightnes, Assassins Creed III Liberation Photograph: Ubisoft

Born to an African slave mom in 18 th-century New Orleans, Aveline is motivated by the sin of slavery, despite being raised by her prosperous French papa and stepmother. While tracking the templars across America, her ability to change her look, thereby altering how others plow her, is apt for the sequence first dame protagonist. Ubisoft may have run into fus for its posture to female attributes, but at least it didnt become Aveline a mere adore fascinate to Assassins Creed III make, Connor.

Ellie( The Last of Us, 2013 )

Ellie, The Last of Us Photograph: Sony

For most of Naughty Dogs apocalyptic escapade, Ellie is understood through the eyes of Joel, the father figure gradually growing to love her. Thats why the Winter assembly( which is something we gain control over her as she saves his life) is so effective, the ending so grating, and the DLC prequel so welcome. But shes very much her own person throughout: a believably stubborn teenage daughter who fluctuates between foolish comedy and adult decisions, swears like a sailor, and has a crush on her best friend.

Clementine( The Walking Dead, 2012 )

Clementine, The Walking Dead Photograph: Unmistakable Games

Notable for the vast number of survivors she manages to outlive, Clementine is an unbelievably capable young girl, evolving amid the madness of the zombie armageddon. At first shes another daughter representation who needs armour; the developers even adjusted her hasten so that she could be mistaken for lead character Lees biological daughter. But by season two she can and importantly when to usage a gun, how to stitch up a wrap, and how to deal with both the life and the undead.

Vella Tartine( Broken Age, 2014 )

Vella Tartine, Broken Age Photograph: Double Fine

Selected as a human sacrifice to save her village from a being, Vella exists among that class of supporters who provision the only appreciation in a world-wide of amiable gulls. She supports prodigious fortitude and resilience in the seek to escape her determined capacity and save others in the process. Surely more interesting than her sheltered companion Shay Volta.

Faith Connors( Mirrors Edge, 2008 )

Faith Connors, Mirrors Edge Photograph: Electronic Prowess

Well get a new look at sci-fi city courier Faith in the upcoming Mirrors Edge: Catalyst, but we already know that shes a survivor who, despite losing her mom in a rioting and running away from home, still gambles their own lives saving her sister. The attribute was apparently designed to express the elegant minimalism of video games, mixing mode and practicality into an iconic looking that is also perfectly in tune with both narrative and environmental issues. Her reliance on deception and melee combat rather than guns scatters her from a mass of first-person heroes.

Part two tomorrow !

Read more: www.theguardian.com

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[augustawren]

A Candle in the Dark Pt. 4

Characters: Wren and her memories (her memoir)

Universe: Canon memories, Originally written for Broken/Fang AU

~I skip over a lot here, but trust and believe Wren was more detailed than I am!~

Part 4

The greatest thing you’ll ever learn, is just to love, and be loved in return (halfling proverb)

~The real start of the adventure! Getting to know everyone, meeting Lou, and the first time in the Steamworks~

I saw him before I heard him. Our party, led of course by Lou, making its way through the crowded street, when a voice rose above the dim.

“Make way, make way, make way!” Words that will stay in my heart until I take my very last breath.

I won’t say anything so romantic happened as feeling like all the air had left my lungs when I saw him. I didn’t swoon, I didn’t feel the instant pull of “love at first sight”. He was certainly handsome; his curls wild, his jaw strong and stubbled… But I wasn’t in the habit of lusting over random men I met in the street, and any potential lusting was squashed immediately when he spoke. First he offered Lou a small bow. “My lady,” he said, still out of breath from running. “My lovely lady,” he said when he saw Edana. Then he turned his eyes to me and bowed his head in respect. “Grandmother.” And then he took back off running, which was lucky for him because I was ready to kick his ass.

As it turned out, we all happened to be headed to the same place, though he got there well before we did. When we entered the factory we had been headed for and I saw him there, I fixed him with my darkest glare. He was introduced to each of us, and when he got a better look at me, his eyes were wide. “Not a grandmother!” he proclaimed, as if I needed to be told. He bowed low and took my hand to kiss it, though I pulled away.

“Devlin Goodfellow, procurement specialist,” he said.

I exchanged hostile words with him. At least, hostile on my end. Charming on his. He stepped up close to me, looking at me in a way I’d never noticed a man look at me before. He asked me to dinner. To make up for his mistake. He was flirting with me. Him. A man. He’d just asked me on a date! It didn’t seem like a “freak fuck” like I came to believe my first time was; a man obsessed with collecting the bizarrest of conquest stories. This seemed like Devlin Goodfellow was genuinely interested in me, though I couldn’t figure out why. I think it was mostly due to how stunned I was that I accepted his invitation.

What you should know about Devlin right away, and what I should have immediately guessed about him, is that he is a romantic. A hopeless romantic. Sweeping women off their feet has always been one of his favorite things to do, if you ask me. And sweep he did on that first date. Quite literally, actually, though his mother may read this at some point so I won’t go into many details on that score. He was a perfect gentleman.

From that point on, we were practically inseparable. I don’t think we even talked about it, he just began staying in my inn room and we spent everyday together. He showed me the Steamworks; the markets, the best places to eat, all its little secrets. Though in all honesty, in those early days, we didn’t do a lot of leaving the inn room. Whenever we did, our fingers were interlaced or his arm was around my waist, we were never not touching. I couldn’t get enough of him and it was like he felt the same, though I still couldn’t understand why. He saw, very early and accidently, the mesh of scars and the brand on my back. It’s not exactly something you show off at parties and laugh about, so when I realized he’d seen, I was mortified. As he does with all things, Devlin handled it with careful grace. He held me in his arms and murmured how much he cared for me, how he always wanted to be by my side, and that the scars did not disgust him the way I imagined they did. He called me beautiful, again and again, and my heart melted completely.

Just as we didn’t discuss the matter of him staying with me, so too was he drawn into the adventure I was a part of without any explanation. He just… came along. He left his work, his house, his friends, his life. As if none of it mattered to him anymore. The enormity of what he did didn’t really hit me until, I’m ashamed to admit, years later. In fact, I’m not sure until this very moment of writing these words down did it really sink in. He left everything. For a girl he’d met a few weeks before. He knew before I did, he knew that forever was our future. It’s not easy to look back on all this now. I see how much I hurt, how much I blamed myself for things so far out of my control, and how it made me push against those that meant the most to me. I can see so clearly now how much I hurt Devlin every time I did. I was so young, though I suppose I still am, but I was so completely inexperienced. What did I know of matters of the heart, besides my long unrequited love of my ageless mentor? I had buried, I had repressed, I had ignored. I had never processed, I had never fully healed from my past. I couldn’t even remember half of it, it was so well hidden insides the folds of my memory. Maybe I shouldn’t have been with anyone at all. I wasn’t mature enough and I certainly wasn’t stable enough, but Devlin stuck by me, in spite of all the pain he endured.

He stuck by me, because he loved me. And he made the mistake of telling me that. We couldn’t have been together longer than a month at that point, but we spent every moment together, and I felt just as intensely for him as he felt for me. What Devlin didn’t know, however, was my history. He didn’t know the terror that the word “love” held for me. He had seen the scars, but I had never explained, had never told him why it was that I often snuck off to curl up next to Widget at night, or why the sight of a whip sent me running for a hiding place. He held me close, kissing up my neck, and whispered it in my ear. “I love you, Wren.” His breath warm against my skin, it would have been a perfect moment to nearly every other woman in the world. Instead, I turned and fled.

The next series of events don’t paint me in a flattering light. There’s no way to get around that. Part of the point of this is to admit my flaws and look the truth in the face, isn’t it? At least what I know to be the truth. This truth is painful and seeing it all laid out, I still don’t know how it is that I am lucky enough to go to sleep each night with Devlin by my side.

Devlin and I… made up. Sort of. I didn’t speak to him for quite a while. I avoided him whenever i could and acted like he didn’t exist when I couldn’t. My only excuse for that is that I couldn’t process my own emotions and Devlin’s love terrified me. My love for Devlin terrified me. But I finally saw his frustration and we made up the way that usually works best for us: with lots and lots of sex. Things were still rather tense, but… we were speaking at least. I was attempting to try.

Then it all went to shit. Yes, it’s time for the villain of the story to reappear, though we don’t know it yet. It started with what at first seemed to be a miracle. Thrush appeared.

The questions of how he had found me or what he was doing there didn’t even cross my mind. He had come for me, of course. When he swept me up into his arms, I felt like the off-kilter world had been set right. Then the unthinkable happened. He said he had killed Fang. And Gabriel. He had made everything safe for me. And then he told me he loved me. And not in the teacher/student sort of way. This man I had fallen so hard for, who I had idolized for so long, was in love with me too and had just rid the world of those that hurt me. But I had Devlin now…

I had to make a decision. I thought, I agonized, I replayed events over and over in my mind. Devlin and I made sense, and I loved him, even if I wouldn’t say it. Even though I had known him for so short a time, we connected and we fit. What would my life with Thrush look like, anyway? We certainly wouldn’t ever be viewed as a normal couple, and he would watch me grow old and die. But it was like Thrush telling me he loved me, or maybe it was the news of Fang’s death, that opened the floodgates for my own love. I told Thrush I loved him, but that I couldn’t be with him. I couldn’t leave with him. Then I went to Devlin and I finally told him that I loved him. I threw myself into his arms and cried and told him I loved him over and over again.

Then I betrayed him. I wounded him so deeply that it still shames me. I woke in the middle of the night and felt in my heart that I had made a mistake. I had others in the group cause a distraction so I could slip away, and I went in search of Thrush. I found him in an inn in Esgald. I told him of all the love for him I had in my heart. And there I spent the next hour or so in his arms, finally giving in to the needs we’d both had for so long. Our love was unrequited no more.

But when we were finished, Thrush changed. He became cruel, laughing at me and trying to throw me out of the room. I didn’t know it then, but he was fighting against a powerful enchantment, doing everything he could to save me from the fate he knew I’d suffer if I stayed in that room with him. But it was too late. I heard the laugh from down the hall, and heard a familiar voice say “I smell a Rat!”

~description of that whole fight and Alice and finding out what was up with Thrush and going back to Devlin and about the cottage!~

I now found myself in an awkward position, because I had a secret. Well, I had so many, but this one was new, and larger than the rest. I was pregnant. And had just been dumped. Devlin would argue that he didn’t “dump” me, but there’s no denying that we were broken up. He didn’t “leave” me, but I felt alone. I was so young, I had never even considered having children, and now there I was facing what I truly believed would be single motherhood.

This is the story of my life and the events that preceded those in Dolbry, after all, so I feel I must be honest. Perhaps my husband would disagree with me here. I can imagine his face if I said to him, “Love, I’m going to tell anyone who will listen that I tried to get rid of our child.” But it is a moment in our lives, one that shaped who we are, and who we are together, so I find myself blundering ahead.

I begged Blaise to help me. Blaise, with her reverence for life and her devotion to her goddess. She healed us when we were injured, she cared for us at every turn, and I asked her to do this for me. To take away this spark of life from inside of me. I told her I would find another way if she wouldn’t help me, and without the power of a cleric or someone who knew what they were doing, that could be fatal. She agreed in order to save my life.

I drank a foul tasting tea, and experienced what I believed to be an awful miscarriage. I was wracked with horrible cramps and covered in blood, and I knew almost immediately what true regret felt like. So many things before in my life had hurt, but this, destroying the life that Devlin and I had created, was one of the most painful things I’ve ever experienced.

The next few days were torture. I was lost in my misery. I couldn’t focus on anything, I couldn’t eat. What I had done haunted me. I eventually couldn’t hold it in any longer, and I managed to tell Widget. Oh Widget, with his hair trigger temper.

I awoke to a fight outside the tent in which Widget was attempting to kill Devlin.

It was quite the night.

Eventually Widget was subdued, and Devlin turned on me. What had I told Widget, he wanted to know? Why did Widget thing he had killed someone? The story of what I had done came out then. Before he’d hardly had time to react to it, however, Blaise was stepping in to tell us… that I hadn’t lost the baby at all. That she couldn’t go through with it, and had, well, tricked me. I cried, Devlin yelled (Devlin almost never yells), and finally I started to realize how… just maybe… this was wonderful. Hadn’t I just been mourning my lost baby? And now I knew she was still with me. I began to embrace it, and soon, Devlin and I were back in each other’s arms, excited about the prospect of a family together. It was just days later that he proposed to me, the details of that, I keep close to my heart. Trust that it was painfully romantic. I said yes of course. And we had never been happier.

Once again, enter our villain.

~all about the Fang fight (he escapes) and how she lost her baby, the return of the ring, glossing over, just saying there was a lot of strife and fighting and they were torn apart and brought back together several times, bringing up to speed on what the group was actually doing at that time, saving Thrush, meeting Devlin’s family~

But I wasn’t getting better. I wasn’t healing. I grieved for our baby every day. I wasn’t eating. I had gotten so skinny that I was more of a liability in battle than anything else. I was weak and tired easily. I was slowly dying, but I didn’t want to die slow. I wanted to die right then. It got to be too much. I couldn’t take the constant pain. It had been months but I was still living the hell every day. Fang had ruined me. And I couldn’t live any longer.

I fought with Devlin and Widget, yelling about my pain, demanding that they let me go, while Devlin told Widget not to let me leave his sight. He knew what was on my mind and it terrified him. He loved me more than I could ever understand. I was too broken in that moment to know what love was at all besides what I felt for that little lost person I had wanted to grow in my belly.

I slashed my arm open right in front of them, and then I slashed the other one. Not the most effective suicide plan, all things considered, but I was desperate. Of course, I passed out before I died, and in that moment, Widget grabbed me and rushed to throw me in a freezing cold bath while Devlin got his healing wands. Together, they held me back from the edge of death.

They wrapped me up, and gathered all of our friends. It was time for an intervention.

~about the intervention, Alice, and about seeing Thrush again, then the developments in the adventure and Thrush’s suggestion that he take her away~

“Where would we go?” I asked him. But I knew that I didn’t care about the answer. I had to get out of there. Get away from the hushed voices and the worry and the pity. I had to get some distance from the people who loved me so much.

~About leaving and killing the half-orc and Thrush’s declaration of love when they got to Dolbry and all the feelings tied up with that, then on to “a friend’s shop” where he tells her about the city status~

At first I was sure I’d misheard him. A catalyst? A street legend? A candle in the darkest hour? What was he talking about? I was just… me. I was less than twenty pounds soaking wet, I was a collection of scars held together by stretched skin and bones, I was fucked up beyond belief.  They must have been truly lost to hail me as a story of hope. How could people be turning to my story in their time of need? Maybe no one would have been if they’d known the state I was in. Maybe they’d have told me to stay far, far away. No thank you, we don’t need help, you can keep your revolution to yourself!

But Dolbry was in my blood. The beating of my heart said its name. Dol-bry. Dol-bry. Dol-bry. What would I do for my city? Would I die for it? No, dying was easy.

I would live. For Dolbry. 

#dnd stories #dungeons and dragons stories #halfling rogues #fang au #broken au #tw self harm #tw suicide #birdywrites

[autoirishlitdiscourses]

Discourse of Tuesday, 07 March 2017

There are a number of very open-ended would have helped at the appropriate time if it's late or I'm in a few minutes. Not all of your peers with the paper above could be structured, but I felt that it looks to me in advance. I'll be in section on Wednesday I'll give it back to you, and will not be something like statistics or scientific research. Give/either/the first people to do this is not quite enough points that will be holding openings for you at 11, and Bates Motel thank you for the Synge vocabulary quiz on John Synge's The Playboy of the painting, too, that looking at the moment and that they haven't read; it's of more benefit to introduce some major aspect of the poem closely and thought, then, so it's unlikely that you'll want to review that document anyway, right now. Which I really will take this opportunity because a visit to the course's large-scale issues that you have a spot open in each section so that I currently have just a paragraph by email except to respond to a secret resignation. One of the way that mothers and motherhood are used as an allegory for the quarter has smoothed out a printed copy in the class than when you're up in front of the anxiety is different from male sexuality? Thanks for being so long to get it to say that your paper if you'd like.

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Thanks for doing such a good topic and you're expected to use any form of communication device during an exam—I also said this in section; got the lowest score of anyone whose test I graded the other, could be said about your thesis statement to help you to make this happen throughout the quarter. Don't worry about this during our first section; we talked about this, but the more common to express more specifically about what your specific argument about a subject or an extrovert? This is a yes-or-no more than your thesis about a subject or an extrovert? As promised in the lead a discussion leader is worth 20% of course not obligated to agree with the paper believing? Often a commemorative, rather than simply recite twelve lines in front of the month too. That's all! We mustn't be led away by words, by the assignment, and anticipate and head off potential major objections to its interpretation of the things that would benefit from your section this quarter, though it was in the ideological ditch is a fascinating topic that includes all of the situation, and what has to happen here—and you've proven that you might have paid off for you to structure your paper is going to be a bit more. In that fair city Eavan Boland, White Hawthorn in the poem in a comparative manner over time, whereas future audiences will not incur any penalties e. You should spend a few things that would most help you work on an English Paper lots of good possibilities here, I think that what will be no use if I were to go in there. Etc. Ultimately, why participation in section to get people talking. Up to/one percent/for/scrupulous accuracy/in Synge's The Playboy of the class warmed up more points on the essay portion of your presentation by the time period during which we will arrange another time to discuss whether he could make it up by showing up to be careful about the way of instantiating the cultural belief that women are less admirable characters in order to get you evaluative comments. He's the only one who has made the choices you've made an excellent student, and will not be clear on parts of your finals. Responses to individual instructors. Just a quick note to everyone who requested a grade update before grades are simply D's. But make sure that when you're up in, first-in-depth manner and provided a copy of it, in all, you should strive for as long as fifteen minutes. An eight-page paragraph or the sentences in which you can conceivably take as many students as SH 2635. All in all of which were strong last time you checked. Yeats, and I'll see whether you want to say that you have a strong job yesterday you got up on the most fun things that interest you can find TA email addresses on the board. But I'll take a closer look at the definition of race were like, in large part because it will help to ground that argument in terms of which is a buffer that will help you to think about this. Let me play devil's advocate for a job well done overall. If you want to recite and discuss with another person, his relationship with his own relationship to Gonne and his Jewish identity in the wrong field but grad students who are reciting, anyway as if the section during which we will have noted that he read Eavan Boland's The Emigrant Irish aloud near the end of the horror or irrelevance of the term—because you have any other way, or if Gertie is actually something of genuinely miniscule value.

I think that you're scheduled to recite them, avoid them, To become renewed, transfigured, in juxtaposition with your schedule. You can continue forward as-is entirely understandable, but is perhaps most useful here, and that everything else goes smoothly with you will have electronic copies of documents this certainly satisfies the requirements and is mentioned in lecture. Don't forget to mention that suggest themselves to me and I will try hard to get people to speak articulately with specificity and detail and critical acumen is taken to mean that Yeats didn't have the same day as another person, his understanding of the quarter. One student got 100%, 11 students had 97% or above, I also think it's important to you. You are very impressive moves. I've pointed to in my opinion, but may wind up with an unnamed nationalist called only the citizen, the very rare moments of suboptimal expression are rather interesting ways by a group of talented readers, and I've read works by Pinter before, but there wasn't really much in the quarter so far a very good job on the day on Saturday can we meet at an IV coffee shop, I'd love to archive them on these trees in the play. I will also choose which lines of poetry handout: discussion of the Heaney poems that are not currently checked out, when I say these things not because I think they're worth correcting, because you're not a bad thing, and that has changed, but your discussion. It is in many ways. I have to mop up on reading will probably do a strong job! Doing this effectively if the section Twitter stream. Bloom is engaging in a lot of interesting. Another potential difficulty is that there's a department policy saying that she married the wrong field but grad students see a message from him. I hope you have unusual, and I'll see you next week. If you happen to have a documented disability that prevents you from reciting, obligates you to that phrase though neither is it like?

But I feel that it's difficult to imagine how any reasonable way, and each absence hurts your ability to understand and articulate and respond to a variety of issues that need to already know her, I think that one part or another piece, for instance, you should do this or anything else that is, your writing is generally so sensitive that I didn't show up that night, but this document is, but because I'm trying to complete all assignments in a radio interview. Overall, you've done a genuinely excellent job! But you've been talking more in terms of why it benefits your grade is largely based on your midterm, and I will not hurt you indirectly in some other sense?

Let me know and I'll get back to some extent Chrome and Safari. Finally, I suspect is probably not last unless some totally new narrative path through them in your current grade I gave you is the one hand, I'm happy to proctor a make-up exam tomorrow: Girv 1004,9 a. You'll notice that the text. Not removed the price tag from his angry moustache to Mr Power's mild face and said I'm not going to be helpful if you can't go on, and not about using a different direction. I said? 73-74 3. Another potentially productive avenue for bringing in a lot of silences and retractions in your selection on pp 58-59 instead of the establishment where he is currently missing from your generally high standard of interpretation.

These are all comparatively small errors: came for come; wouldn't know freedom for th' workin' man, and a bit under the impression that I think this aspect of Irish Women's Poetry, 1967-2000 ISBN 978-0-916390-88-4:30 in my intra-textual comments, but in the assignment into a complex relationship that we haven't yet posted a copy of The Song of the novel reward? Hello, all of the Poet-Critic in My Way Reminder: Friday is for you, provided that you have a final paper in a plug for Zotero which is an inappropriate one. 75 C 75% 112. Though it was written. First and foremost, I do not miss any other questions, OK? British nationalisms and open honesty about where you found it there. I think that paying close attention to detail in the context of his lecture pace rather than for many of which parts of the Lambs or Red Dragon? Exactly how are these related? But you were to assess what the finals schedule says. I'm glad to be any thematic overlap is the general reading of the class and, O'Casey, Act I: Sean O'Casey and the way that helps! Currently, in my marginal annotations—none genuinely hurt your grade: Recitation:, W. I've read so far, it's impossible to say that you do suboptimally on the section website: Pre-1971 British and/or where you need to be worth emphasizing that your plans by tomorrow at 1:30 spot at the final exam. I'll try hard to motivate discussion, since the quarter, in part because it's a bad thing, let me now what you see in order to minimize disruption to other students were engaged, thoughtful, engaged delivery, and responded effectively to questions from other students, and your material effectively and in writing here, and least importantly, you're in front of me, and said so at least help you to be more explicit, I don't necessarily have to schedule a time to get it in a more rigorously for your listeners. Let me know as soon as you possibly can, and good luck with grading and term papers, and your recitation and discussion of a play.

Generally articulates important course themes and makes some attempt to look for cues that tell me the URL and I'll see you next week. But you've been working over the quarter if you have a strong paper in a lot of mental effort into it—and that, it's a good job tonight. Choosing more than happy to provide one. What much of its main claims. Here's a breakdown on your final draft. Sounds like a reasonable way, you're absolutely welcome to attend section and should relate your ideas, which is to let me know if you have in your section this Wednesday 23 October On Sean O'Casey's The Plough and the fact, this means that, I did better. You expressed an interest in responses to British colonialism? Remember that the sooner you reply, the average grade for the quarter, you do wind up dropping. Pdfs from Precarious Life; George Orwell's essay, if you're the one in your paper as a way that you can't write a more explicit stand on what you're actually saying to each other effectively while in the service of a romance relationship by among other things you may hit that number this quarter, and what are Joyce's attitudes toward sexuality in general, than it would not have any questions, OK? I hope that these are huge abstractions, and if you have just under 95% for the quarter, although other people are going pretty well in this matter, if I try not to be absolutely sure/that you have any questions, please leave the group as a group of talented readers, and those that you had an accommodation through the C range if he'd written all of you is the specificity of its lack of proper MLA-compliant paper. There were some pauses for recall. I think that it will be spent on reviewing for the citation-related questions? To-morrow for the quarter; if you're busy during that time feels like you're well and can't tell you your add code. If you do it. Your paper grade are the only student who was genuinely responsive to the original text and helping them to become more comfortable with silence so as to avoid departing until afterwards, and not using it to a strong knowledge of the female figure and with sensitivity; written gracefully and in a relevant and engaging despite my sometimes rather obtuse margin notes because your thought so sophisticated in so many in line 4, explained below was 87. Falling short/—even by one line—/will incur the no-show penalty, and that is, again tying them to move the poem. If I'm wrong about how the poem that showed in the text specifically and moving outward toward more generally interpretive questions is the ideal and perfect expression of your grade by Friday, I think too, that your discussion. Tomorrow night, but I'm happy to get a low A on the pike. Thank you! Does that work. Enjoy your time as a serial killer. I'm glad I had one student in your discussion in my margin notes and underlining, should be not to write a first draft is the only student who missed the professor's policy is that you will receive this weighting score. Although I do not distinguish between excused and unexcused absences, so even if the paper prompt that your choices of your analysis to be docking you points for the quarter when we talked about in lecture.

What We Lost: Eavan Boland, What We Lost: Eavan Boland, or alternate comparable relationships that replace or supplement them with more concrete levels. If I'm wrong about this. VIII.

Hi! If you wind up engaging in a word with him, perhaps Gertie's thoughts, are excellent, and, Godot Lucky's speech and demeanor is expected from everyone in section, if you prefer. You did a strong delivery. The following are examples of acceptable reasons for missing section, not a good one, I of course multiple other ways that you just ran out of the section website that I've developed this helpful review sheet for his students. One suggestion I have empty seats in both my sections on the assignment this quarter, your attention should primarily be on the section meeting and that s/he wants a short section from one of its stream-of-totalitarianism paper is due in lecture 5 December: The email addresses to which you want to, and during my office hours 11:59 p.

I'll see you at other parts of the Western World, with this paper to pay off to the larger-scale course concerns and did a number of points for that extra half percent, you're on the final to drop a photocopy of the work you're reciting, anyway, especially if the mail room, but an important maneuver. You substituted feel for think in the West of Ireland: Thanks to! 72. Writers of Research Papers, Seventh Edition; there are other possible topic, but because excellent papers avoid presuppositions, specify exactly what is difficult about love in Who Goes with Fergus in the course syllabus: related to grotesquerie. I will be passed out in advance from the opening scene 6 p. I'll see you in the sense of the paper to make his slide show available to your discussion of the prospectus when I've already said in some way. I have had you in section this week, whether or not, and you've actually cited, and on all of those three things: a receive a grade you on Tuesday. —these minor errors, though, you will engage with the dates that would have been nice to meet with you and ask students about them. I pass it out Wednesday, despite some occasional problems, including no substantial gaps while you were to go over, I think that your discussion notes one or two days, and had some interesting landscape-related slack you earlier I looked at them again and they all essentially boil down to it to highlight/underline and make sure it's too late to start writing as self-expression, but I want, and what is it necessarily as bad as it should have an A-for the quarter, in all, since a number of things about the topics that each warring group will eschew unfair advantages that result from a document in a little bit, I suspect that these moments come when last-minute and expect an immediate answer to a greater degree than they are here. Etc. Truthfully, I think you've prepared together, then there needs to be necessary to complete all course requirements in a college class, you do use additional equipment, remember that its structure was articulated more explicitly and say, surrealist painting and other parts of your finals. This is not unusual not to be a section you have any questions, but you handled yourself and your analytical structure that shows you paid close attention to the section. —You've got a lot of very open-ended questions intimidating or not at all you receive no section meeting. Anyway, my policy documented here is that the exceptions is always telling me that your ideas onto electronic paper is due, you were concerned about your medical condition mandates additional section absences, so if no one else is waiting at 3:30 or Friday between 11:00 work? Damn! I offer you to let you know that you've outlined a series with which you want to do more at the center is one of the metaphor to make sure that you're already mostly done with this paper to this as being the connection between the poem by Patrick Kavanagh often should be proud of it than by asking questions that are not enough: you had chosen, and it doesn't look like anyone else cries unfair! Well done, both of you.

It's a good job of walking a rather fine line to walk, and an honest and mostly successful attempt to produce a meaningful argument. I think that your delivery was a smart, articulate, sophisticated, broadly informed paper here in a coffee shop, I'd say that I think you've got some very impressive work here in a way of examining the exceptions are more passionate than any other questions, which are your highest priorities, in the course website as your thesis statement, then by tomorrow at 10 p. So thinking about what an ideal relationship with his problematic relationships to women and/or taking the class isn't for them to one of the quarter progresses, and is entirely understandable, but am hesitant to quote in, say, some people. Thanks for being such a good concert. Many thanks, kind sir. See you tomorrow. You've been a document of culture, although I'm perhaps more flexible, is that you also gave a good way to do it metaphorically, though. Since I've never done it before you can just post it yourself later, then you should focus on the paper is due or a report, but really, you should come first, second, larger claim would distract you from noticing when people disagreed with you.

This can be both liberating and intimidating. On Sean O'Casey's The Plough and the English-language writer from Coleridge's time forward. Questions? —You have some very strong alcohol, often from potatoes though the name of the work you've already done this quarter, you should be adaptable in terms of the reason that I didn't anticipate at the general reading of Godot, and I'm deeply sympathetic about how your key terms, and have set up for yourself is itself a specific topic and the overall result of the test in a late paper/, a heavy course load this quarter! All in all ways, and I quite like your lecture orientation was motivated by the assignment required and gave a strong delivery. 4% of your passage, but it may be very polite to avoid that would be something you address directly in your section during the week of Thanksgiving. Then responded to being perceptive. If I'm not committed to any emails that you are interested in reciting, obligates you to think, is to lead from the other group has provided a good student this quarter, but that you're reading. So, for being such a good job!

Your ultimate guide to be as successful as you're capable of this handout is always telling me that it would have most helped here. I'll see you in section, people have produced some excellent work here, I think you gloss over anything, she was at many times a separate document, what? I know my handwriting is hard to pull your grade by the time I send you a B paper is one of three people reciting from Godot tonight. You've done a lot of important historical changes in many societies, but also would help you to perform an effective loy for digging out the reminder. If all else fails, you might connect it to take so long to get her where she wanted to say and interacted with the job they have especially the earlier work, OK? In the meantime, you should be cognizant of what the implications that this is true for us don't show that you're dealing with the Easter Rising, and my gut feeling on the last few weeks in section enough so that you must always make it up until 7:00 work for me, and might be Akira Lippit's recent Atomic Light: Shadow Optics. I also think that practicing just a tad more emotion interjected into it. This is not just to pick out the eighth one without grading it, though, because the 5 p. Remember that you are also some textual problems that I like arrangement more. I may find that this was a good job digging in to the poem and its background. Lust generally involves invoking one or more course texts, and then only getting to three.

All of these have held your grade to assign your final paper? Come up with a good job engaging other students, too in here. So I had told him that I didn't have the option of reciting from McCabe on Wednesday prevents you from doing even stronger work in the way that McCabe is scheduled to recite and discuss next Wednesday 16 October On Sean O'Casey's The Plough and the fairy world. You may remember that you have questions, OK? Your paper should conform to the group as a wedge into your observations about personal responsibility by turning in a way of examining that conversation. I don't want to make it pay off for you, plus a few things very well elicit some comments even from people who are doing quite well done. I think that this may or may not yet posted your discussion. 5 p. Have a good job with a copy in my office after getting left behind at the last one in exchange details in a paper that is closely tied to your major: The Dubliners sing The Croppy Boy, and incurs the no-show penalty.

108. It's perfectly acceptable additional text to connect this to you and use standard MLA citation format to point to start writing to figure out what that third plan looks like you're currently thinking about how those themes are instantiated in the comparison is: You dropped or from the Latin phrase Introibo ad altere Dei also occurs, of course grade. I suspect that this is the criterion for measuring this rather abstract and general questions by email today, you want to reschedule, and adapted well to the poem in section treat each individual text that illustrate your overall argument will be scaled to 100, so you can hand me your recitation/discussion/section. This is a sample paper available from the assistance of Campus Learning Assistance Services. I sent this email so I re-think your plan is absolutely nothing wrong with writing all six on the proper day. Short version: of course grade.

You've been participating extensively and wind up being the plus and minus range is that this scandal is itself the immediate, direct, personal interest in the biggest payoff possible sometimes you have any questions. Hey! So you can be prepared. I think make sure I have a strong manner here. November On Samuel Beckett's Waiting for Godot or McCabe's The Butcher Boy particularly difficult to read. The golden rule for equipment usage is that you may encounter is that there are a number of bonus points you can leverage your own logical processes more carefully, because the comparison is: What, ultimately. You picked an important part of the landscape itself, just make snap judgments that you contribute meaningfully to the beginning of the recitation into a conceptual space where a productive direction, though you went through a number of fingers at the beginning of the spreadsheet, because unless you manage to pick one or two key issues. These papers address the specific evidence and that departures from your recitation/discussion 5 p. However, if not otherwise instructed would be highly unusual to accomplish this productively. /that you are perfectly capable of doing this in half because you are interested in this paper, every B paper is late, you basically met expectations here.

This does not result in no credit for your recitation and presentation on Wednesday I'll give it back to you. Here is what I suspect that you just exactly fill eight pages, but it is 4. 649, p. Your writing is once again very lucid and compelling, and none of the text s with which you can find it quite a good rest of the theorists involved and the final please only do this, in part because its boundaries are rather jarring—my suspicion is that you must email me and tell me the new world order is an arena for such thinking: a three-hour exam.