#joan refuses to learn how to play

[everydayshalloween]

Henry the Young King: Tillie, if you hit me with one more goddamned blue shell-

Matilda of England, Duchess of Saxony: Get fucked, loser.

Richard I of England: HOW AM I STILL GOING THE WRONG WAY WHAT THE FU-

John, driving off the edge of a cliff for the 50th time: WHY CAN'T I TURN-

Eleanor of England, Queen of Castile, just happily playing Animal Crossing New Leaf while Geoffrey and Joan watch: :]

#eleanor doesn't like the chaos of family game night so she'll retreat into nice happy peaceful games #geoffrey just gets tired of everyone after a while #joan refuses to learn how to play

[upheavalofmemory]

PAC | Your Love Story in Song

Someone who received a reading from me once said that I tend to write scenarios as if I'm writing a whole fanfic. While I'm not a fanfic writer, I do love writing so... This pick-a-card is about your future love story based on songs!

This can apply to your future spouse, for your future partner, etc, although it is intended to be the most impactful relationship you have. I will be using shufflemancy and intuition, plus there is a bonus moodboard/image section!

♢ There are three piles to choose from, all are CDs with writing on them/quotes. Pile one is "Songs to listen to when you're in love", pile two is "You're the only thing in life that I got right", and pile three is "Everything I could never tell you." ♢

Pile One ♢ "Songs to listen to when you're in love"

Walking on a Dream by Empire of the Sun

C'mon - Single Version by Panic! At The Disco & fun.

Capsize by FRENSHIP & Emily Warren

A heaviness. Two people who refuse to believe that they're in love, but rather continue to wallow in their own problems until they realize that there was someone there all along. Youth. They both take baby steps until they realize that someone has been there alongside them the whole time and together they bring themselves up. Unfortunately, the highs are high and the lows are low, and sometimes it leads to explosive fights, crying, and the neverending cycle of breakups.

It's blue. It's in the dark, two lovers holding hands as you both sob over the destruction you have caused together. You both think to yourselves "Maybe this is why we are meant to be?" A combination of hail and rain, the worst thunderstorms, and the brightest sunny days after them, but mostly because you know that others would not be able to handle your violence (not literal).

On the worst days, you almost melt into each other. On the best days, you blend and ebb with each other's flows. There is no fear in either of your depths. They can get terrifying, yes, and from an outside perspective it can be seen as a toxic, violent cycle, but it is far from the truth. It's bittersweet, it's growth, it's pulling out hair like pulling weeds and sharpening knives to cut out rotten flesh. It's painful, yes, but it's the most invigorating ride you both have ever been on, and it's the most growth you've ever had. You trigger each other in the best and worst way possible.

It's pain and ascension. Growing your wings, pulling out the flightless feathers. Scratching away dead scales, shedding and spitting up venom. Like an animal learning how to breathe again. Poetic misery.

Pile Two ♢ You're the only thing in life that I got right."

Nineteen by Dylan

Joan of Arc by Arcade Fire

Stop Making This Hurt by Bleachers

Good morning kisses and back hugs. Shared memories and shared coffee mugs, cuddles, and long movie marathons, but something is changing.

The love you shared is changing. Neither of you has gotten this far, you have no idea how to react. The passionate morning kisses become awkward side steps, the cuddles become awkward and suddenly you hate the color of the walls. You still love them, yes of course, but it's changing it's hue. Your chameleon lover is changing its colors and you haven't adjusted to the change in saturation. The giddiness goes away and becomes...comfortable. You fear that the passion is gone, you've never felt this way before. You're afraid they'll leave you.

You both lay on the duvet, staring above at the ceiling fan. Suddenly, you're both older. "How did we get here? Where has the time gone?" You both look at each other with a somewhat sad, but tender smile. The love hasn't gone away, it's just changed forms, and you're finally adjusted to the slower love you always deserved. You kiss, it's awkward and cheeky, but it brings a warmness to your body you've never felt before, a warmness you want to keep forever, and so you both do.

BONUS: While looking for images, Boreas by the Oh Hellos was playing in my head, it definitely matches the warm energy of this pile.

Pile Three ♢ "Everything I could never tell you"

East of Eden by Zella Day

Oh No! by MARINA

Mine Forever by Lord Huron

It was a hook-up, it was a fling. You never pictured that you'd actually love your goofy lover. You couldn't imagine them being serious about anyone until one night you looked into their eyes and realized it wasn't lust. Out of fear, you left, and you were terrified.

This wasn't the type of person you would bring home to your family, but rather show off to your friends and your Instagram stories, but now things are changing. They aren't the person you expected to be, and you're slowly falling in love with their dopey smile and messy hair. "Nothing can get better than this," they say with a smile, and fall asleep in your arms. You feel the same way and it scares you.

You run from it, you ghost them and break their heart just for a moment until you look at yourself in the mirror and see the person you've never wanted to become. You take off your mask and realize you're just a scared child who never knew you were worthy of love or desired love. You put in the work, you change your face, and break your old mask.

You show up to their house to apologize and try to start fresh again, and whether or not they accept your apology is up to them, but you'll never forget them regardless.

Thank you so much for reading! Feel free to check out my masterpost with more readings, or you can support me by purchasing a reading by clicking here. Thanks for the support, let me know which pile you picked and if it resonated or not :)!

#pick a card #tarot reading #oracle reading #pac #pac tarot #pick a picture #pac reading #tarot pac #pick a pile reading #love tarot free #love reading #fs reading #future spouse tarot #future spouse pac #future spouse pick a card #upheavalofmemory #uomTAROT

[theyhavetakenovermylife]

Random facts about Valentina or I can say the princess XD

Random Facts About Valentina

Bayverse!Leonardo x reader

All Children Romeo Marcello Gerardo

A/N: Of course we have to do one for the Princess! Do you have any idea how mad she is, because I did Joan and Romeo before her?😂💙

Warnings: None💙

Just like with your sons, you and Leo wanted to name your first and only daughter, something that fell in line with the Italian theme you already had in place. Therefore you decided on the name Valentina, meaning strong and healthy, along with inspiring mental depictions of love and happiness.

The youngest of the flock, and the apple of everyone’s eye, Valentina pretty much has everyone wrapped around her finger, especially her brothers. Treating her like a princess, refusing to hit too hard while practicing. That eventually became a problem, with you and Leo having to explain that if they held back on her, she wouldn’t be able to learn.

At 15, Valentina was finally gifted her weapon, after having seen her cousins and brothers train with theirs for such a long time. The weapon grandpa Splinter gifted her was a bow and arrows, citing her focused ability to reach a goal from afar.

The nickname Princess, was one that Valentina herself actually came up with. Well, sort of. It came after she at 3 years old, started dancing around the lair in her favorite princess dress, saying that she was exactly that. Her adorable little smile as she stood jumping in front of you, singing “I’m a princess! I’m a princess!”, leaving the whole family smiling. And given everyone’s tendency to do and bring her anything she asked for, the name Princess was just fitting.

As the youngest of the Hamato family, with a 8 years age gap between her and her youngest cousin, Ragnar, Valentina had a lot of attention on her. Growing up, there was always someone to play with or talk to, and every birthday and Christmas brought her a lot of gifts.

What is more adorable than a toddler playing dress up and having a tea party with her father? A toddler playing dress up and having a tea party with her father and all three of her big brothers. The amount of times you had walked into Valentina’s room, confused of where your family disappeared to, only to find them all crowded around a small table, each with a very small tea cup, pinkies out, tiaras, tue tues and all of it. Yes, you have taken pictures, and yes, you shared those pictures to all of the turtles’ partners in the group chat.

If anyone knew how to do a smokey eye, a killer sharp eyeliner, or any of the latest makeup trends, it was Valentina. Growing up, she learned much about makeup from not only you and her aunts, but Dorothy and Minerva as well. But once she hit her teens, she was the one teaching you and the others many new tricks and tips.

Being the youngest had its pros, but certainly also had its cons. Imagine the day your sons learned that their 16 year old baby sister had actually been sneaking to the surface, in order to hang out with a group of humans, who she had been friends with for around a year. They freaked out, way more than you and Leo did. Actually, Leo had seemed to relax quite a bit when it came to his children, seeing how the oldests was now adults, but your sons freaked out. Even Gerardo was freaking out, yelling and screaming about how dangerous it was, all while you and Leo watched from the couch.

At the age of 8, Valentina started begging you and Leo, wanting to have a cat. For a long time, Leo stood fast and wouldn’t allow her to get said cat. But then a 21 year old Marcello came home with a cat he had found on the street, and when Valentina said she wanted to keep it, Leo could not fight it any more, deciding it was time to get a cat. And of course, Valentina named the cat Lady.

Like her brothers, Valentina takes her training very seriously, but in a very different way than her brothers. Although the art of ninjutsu was important to her, her main focus was to keep healthy and fit. But as she grew older, she became more and more aware of how important it was to learn self defense, especially given her nature, being a half human, half mutant turtle, in order to protect herself. And well, it would prove handy, once while she was out with her friends.

#tmnt #teenage mutant ninja turtles #tmnt leonardo #tmnt leo #tmnt raphael #tmnt donatello #tmnt michelangelo #tmnt raph #tmnt donnie #tmnt mikey #tmnt oc #tmnt bayverse oc #tmnt x reader #tmnt leo x reader #tmnt leonardo x reader #tmnt bayverse #tmnt bayverse x reader #tmnt bayverse leo #tmnt bayverse leonardo #tmnt bayverse leo x reader #tmnt bayverse leonardo x reader #bayverse tmnt #bayverse tmnt x reader #bayverse leo #bayverse leonardo #bayverse leo x reader #bayverse leonardo x reader

[newtonsheffield]

Another great update! 🫶🏻 Joan and Harold were absolutely hysterical. Do they meet Kate and Anthony again on another flight? I bet Joan would be elated to learn that they are together. Actually, Anthony should thank her because Joan told him first to tell Kate about his feelings. Even though, at that time, he hadn't thought he had any feelings towards Kate.

That’s one of the reasons I wanted to introduce Joan and Harold, apart from the fact that if this was happening on my flight I’d be obsessed with it. I love hearing the flight attendants gossip amongst themselves. Don’t know anyone that they’re talking aboutI just want to know 389% of everything going on.

But imagine Anthony seeing Joan file onto the flight, Harold in tow and Anthony sees his chance. He picks up the phone, calling the cockpit and snatching Edwina’s wrist as she passes to hold her in place.

“Everything alright babe?”

Anthony ignored the flutter in his chest at the endearment, “This could have been anyone, Captain Sharma, I’m appalled.”

“If you’re holding me here while you flirt with my sister, I’ll knee you in the balls.” Edwina hissed, “The love of my life is marrying someone else!”

Anthony waved her off as Kate chuckled, “Literally no one else ever calls me before we even take off. Do you want me to whisper in your ear Mr Bridgerton?”

“I just wondered if you wanted to have some fun this flight?”

Kate chuckled, “Quick reminder, honey, that Sophie can hear you asking me to meet you in the first class bathroom.”

“Not like that.” Anthony rolled his eyes, “Your sister’s trying to knee me in the balls.”

“He’s torturing me!”

“Just… make up something to be angry at me about in your announcement and I’ll do the rest.” Anthony rolled his eyes, jerking his head in the direction of 4D where Joan had seated herself. Edwina’s eyes lit up and she sighed.

“Finally something good happening.”

“I’m sure I’ll think of something.” Kate chuckled. “Okay, I have to fly this thing, the tower’s yelling in Sophie’s ear. Love you.”

“Yeah, me too.” Anthony hung up the phone, turning to Edwina, “Go for your life.”

Edwina slammed shut one of the drawers. “Anthony, honestly! You can’t just play with people’s lives like this! She really cares about you!”

“Oh my god, Harold! It’s them!”

Anthony bit back a grin and sighed, “It’s really complicated, Edwina!”

“It’s not! Sort yourself out!” And she strode off down the aisle clutching a blanket.

anthony watched Joan’s eyes following him intently as he strapped himself in for take off and he almost saw her jump out of her seat with excitement when Kate’s voice crackled over the PA

“Good Afternoon Ladies and Gentleman this is Captain Kate Sharma from the flight deck. Sitting to my right I have the lovely, if not slightly in denial First Officer Sophie Beckett and We’ll be taking you through to Singapore today. In the cabin today we’ve got an excellent crew, my sister Edwina who’s looking for a rebound, any eligible ladies please present yourself to Cabin manager, Anthony Bridgerton. Anthony who has refused to go to my Mother’s birthday party this weekend, even though he knew how hurtful that would be. And he never picks up his underpants!

Anthony hid his smile as he prepared the drinks trolley and Joan let out a loud gasp. “Ugh She wants more from the relationship! Harold!”

“Why are you so invested in this?!”

Mary’s birthday had been last week actually, he’d arrived with his arm around Kate’s shoulders and sat side by side with her Poppy all night.

“She’s a good girl, Anthony. I promised her Appa I’d look out for her when he passed away. But I don’t need to protect her from you, do I?”

“No Mr Sharma, Absolutely not.”

As the flight wore on Joan watched him more and more closely as Edwina nudged him viciously down the aisle with her cart.

“You’re laying it on a little thick.” Anthony hissed

“Chicken or Fish?” Edwina smiled at Joan who was watching them carefully. She turned back to Anthony, “Anthony here will get you a drink! Careful though, he likes promising people exactly what they want and then not following through!”

“Edwina, I told you before: It’s not that I don’t want to meet your Mum!”

“You won’t even admit that her son is yours!”

A collective gasp went through the passengers closest and Joan took a shuddering breath. “Oh there’s a child involved.”

There’s a corgi puppy involved, Anthony sighed internally, Who keeps chewing my shoes.

“That’s very complicated, Edwina!”

“Fine!”

It was clear that Joan was hanging around again, at the end of the flight, watching them closely as they packed away the meal services and went about the rest of the flight and finally, Anthony felt it was time for the big moment.

He snatched up the phone and cleared his throat as the PA crackled on.

“Attention, Ladies and Gentlemen! This is a message for Captain Kate Sharma.”

He could see Joan throw her headphones off, leaning forward in her seat.

“Kate, I love you! I love you, and I know that Newton’s my son, I don’t care what your Auntie says, I’m not too short for you! I love you!”

The cockpit door swung open dramatically and Kate appeared, her eyes dancing with delight as she wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled him in for a deep kiss.

“Very dramatic.” Kate whispered against his lips as Joan erupted into applause. “Guess you’re stuck with me now.”

“Apparently.”

#mile high #kathony #anthony x kate #kate sharma #kate sheffield #anthony bridgerton #molly’s asks and answers

[why-bless-your-heart]

@ Protestant anon asking about St. Theresé of Lisiuex, I was SO EXCITED to get to talk about her and I wrote SUCH a long response and then when I hit post tumblr! ate! the whole thing! So now you’re getting the short version.

1. Born 1873, youngest of five surviving daughters. Her mother died when she was four years old, and her older sister, Pauline, became a “second mother” to her.

2. When Theresé was nine, Pauline chose to become a Carmelite nun. Carmelites are cloistered, which means they do not leave their convent and only interact with the outside world, including their families, via a visiting room like this one:

3. Shortly afterwards Theresé became ill. Doctors were unable to diagnose or treat her, but she was miraculously healed after asking the intercession of the Blessed Virgin Mary. Inspired, she discovered that she wanted to become a Carmelite as well, and live with Jesus. She spoke to the prioress, who first thought that she only wanted to be reunited with her sister, and was told to come back when she had grown up.

4. As she grew up, Theresé wrestled with scrupulousity, a spiritual illness marked by anxiety over perceived sins. Almost like religous OCD, it caused her intense distress. Another of her sisters joined the Carmelites, and Theresé became increasingly neurotic. She cried almost constantly and was warned by those close to her that she would run out of tears before she was an adult.

5. The Christmas Eve that Theresé was 13, her father said that he was relieved it was the last Christmas he would be putting candy in her shoes. Hurt, Theresé began to run up the stairs to burst into tears, but stopped halfway up, willed herself to smile, and returned back downstairs to hug her father and gratefully open her gifts. She said that Jesus worked in her heart to grow her up in an instant into a spirit of charity.

6. Filled with a zeal for souls, Theresé learned about the case of a man who had murdered two women and a child and was being executed. She began to pray for him, telling Jesus that she trusted absolutely in His mercy for even the most hardened of souls. She said that she knew that Christ could forgive even without any outward signs of repentance, but for the sake of her own consolation, asked for even the smallest sign. At the guillotine, the murderer — who had refused reconciliation — took a crucifix that was held out towards him and kissed the sacred wounds three times. Theresé read of this in the paper and was overjoyed.

7. Now fourteen years old, Theresé again asked to be allowed to become a Carmelite. The priest-director told her to return when she was twenty-one, but mentioned that she could ask the bishop. She did, and the bishop never spoke of the interview without remembering how she had put her hair up in a tactic to look older.

8. The bishop promised to think about it and write her with his decision. Theresé, meanwhile, went on a pilgrimage to see the pope. For time’s sake she was told not to speak during the audience, but she flung herself at his feet and begged permission to enter Carmel at 15. The pope told her that if God willed it, she would enter, and she had to be carried to the door by the papal guard.

9. That new year, the prioress told her that she would be allowed to enter, but had to be patient a little longer.

10. At the beginning of April, Theresé became a novice. She was the third of the Martin Sisters to enter religious life, and was 15 years and 3 months old.

11. For the remainder of her time at the convent, she remained fairly unremarkable. She worked with the other sisters, obeyed her superiors, and wrote letters, plays, and verse. She also starred as St. Joan of Arc in a play that she wrote and the sisters put on.

12. During this time, she developed what she called “the little way.” Little acts with great love. It is essentially an antidote to the poison of scrupulousity: instead of saying that God is offended by every tiny slight to a degree that we cannot hope to please Him, it says that God is pleased by even the tiniest gifts of love and charity. Things like bearing insults with a smile, taking on undesirable chores, even offering somebody’s irritating clicking sounds during chapel as part of your prayers. In this way, one develops the habit (heh) of love for God and neighbor.

13. In 1896, Theresé contracted tuberculosis. While in the infirmary, her prioress told her to write her autobiography. She did, and the manuscript would eventually become her book, “The Story of a Soul.”

14. Theresé said that her work would truly begin after she died, and promised to spend heaven doing good deeds on earth, describing a “shower of roses.” She died September 30th, 1897, and her last words were “My God, I love you.” She was 24.

15. Miracles began shortly after her death, and she was canonized in 1925. She was declared a doctor of the church — a saint who has significantly contributed to doctrine or theology— in 1997. When her intercession is asked, miracles are usually accompanied by roses.

#yes this is the short version. #I just. love her a lot okay?

[pagingdoctorbedlam]

Do u have any headcanons of ebenholz? Please i need even more content

(Ebenholz Headcanons)

Do I?! Absolutely! Here's some of what I've cooked up:

As I've written in at least one fic now, Ebenholz gets into rock music and this has a huge effect on him, from his fashion sense to his music. I like the idea of him learning to play guitar so he can say he's mastered an instrument under his own power (while continuing to spite the Witch King!)

I see a couple viable paths for Ebenholz's approach to music going forward. One is that, since he's gifted with so many instruments, I'd love to see him get into composing and conducting. On the other hand, pivoting hard into rock music but incorporating some orchestral stylings would be hella rad? Things like incorporating his flute into rock songs like Jethro Tull, or occasionally pulling Czerny for a piano accompaniment to a song (specifically along the lines of Blue Oyster Cult's Joan Crawford. Just listen to this and imagine.)

As he continues to open up, Ebenholz actually befriends quite a few operators. There's the book club gang, of course, and I also think he becomes a pal of Beeswax as they talk records and stuff during horn care sessions. Connected to the music headcanons above, Ebenholz being besties with Vigna is one of my faves. But also, I feel like his particular backstory lends well to him befriending fellow operators with prickly and traumatic backstories. Like Rosmontis. Let them be "child experiments put some literal fucked-up shit in my head" pals.

Once he comes out of his grief-stricken shell, Ebenholz is so damn excited to explore this world he's only ever dreamed of. He can be convinced to explore anywhere and try just about anything at least once. And with how sheltered he was in the Spire, there's a lot to catch up on! Between missions, music, and adventures with his growing circle of friends, he's always busy. (And is able to drag along friends with more hermit-like tendencies as well, to everyone's benefit. *coughCzernycough*)

One line Ebenholz does refuse to cross is alcohol and other intoxicants. Overhearing the noble's plans to turn him into a useless alcoholic has thoroughly shut down his desire to touch the stuff. Not knowing how the Witch King will affect him when he's under the influence is another factor.

Since he was a sheltered noble for so long, Ebenholz has been trying to educate himself but still makes the occasional insensitive comment. Old habits die hard, so he can still be a little defensive when called out, but...he's working on it.

My personal queer headcanon for Ebenholz is that he's gay and demisexual, but thinks he's ace because...well, he's never actually gotten close enough to anyone to build that emotional connection that leads to attraction. (I have a fic on this in the works right now, actually!)

I can also see Ebenholz experimenting with gender and presentation a bit. I'm not sure if he'd actually be nonbinary or just "cis but comfortable enough to present more femme/androgynous/etc when he feels like it", but I wouldn't be surprised to see him experiment once he learns about genders beyond the binary.

Goat boy has goat habits. He likes to climb random shit, and will do so without thinking if he needs to get away with a migraine. Folks have found him in the strangest places...

Also, because goat and because he's open to new experiences, Ebenholz will try to eat just about anything. Though you'll definitely get a snarky remark if he doesn't like it...(and no Hibiscus, this isn't an excuse to give him more health food, put the kale smoothie down...!)

On the subject of migraines, Ebenholz acquires some assistive tech and help with his migraines. Though they're mostly fueled by arts (and the Witch King), I can see him with some light-sensitive shades and learning other migraine management techniques to help some of the symptoms. Also maybe a camera or recorder to help handle his occasional hallucinations by recording something and playing it back to tell what's real?

Alright, that was...a lot of headcanons. I've had many thoughts about this boy. But I hope you enjoy this offering of Good Goat Boy content!

#bedlam answers #arknights #ebenholz #arknights headcanons #hello yes I have so many thoughts about the best goatboy #I ALSO have an outfit redesign for him in the works...stay tuned...

[mynameis-noe-body]

Jopper's headcanon: they had a daughter in 1968

I have already written about how they could have had an unplanned daughter: here to read the headcanon.

Now, knowing she was born in 1968, middle child and from another father in comparison to Jonathan and Will, let's see how she'd be.

First of all — she has her mother's eyes and hair, and her father's nose. She's taller than Joyce, let's say she has Jonathan height which is a lot for a 80s high school girl. Her shoulders are just like her father's: broad and beautiful, while her long legs and tight hips matches her mother's phisique.

She was born and grewp up around men her whole life, and Joyce is pretty grunge and was pretty grunge even in her early days, so she's never learned how to be a girly girl. Sure, she's always been Hop's princess — he calls her peach, and painted her bedroom lilac, gifted her a bunch of old, romantic movies from the 50s ("Roman Holidays", "Gone with the Wind", "Cat on a Hot Tin Roof", "The Carpetbaggers" and so on), and she is still very much a daddy's girl, but... she secretly listen to Joan Jett (and Metallica, The Scorpions, Cutting Crew, Ozzy and all that metal stuff Joyce would be impressed with and Jim would find slightly disturbing), insisting on wearing her hair short, and wearing the oversized jacket Hop brought home once from the Police Station. It's like his blue one, just a couple of sizes smaller (still, too big) and she took off the Police badgers. She's got at least four pair of jeans, all the same, tight on the hips and large around the calves, and several Hawkins High sweatshirt (so that her mama doesn't have to buy more for her too). Jim has tried a couple of time asking her about shopping, but she doesn't really seem interested. She should wear glasses, but she never does.

You want to see how she looked like? Here she is (inspo model).

Joyce chose her name all alone. Lonnie wasn't interested when he found out (or rather, he thought) he was having a girl — just another bloody good-for-nothing woman, we really didn't need that. So, Joyce chose alone. And she wanted her name to be strong and glorious, despite anything Lonnie would say. She chose Rhiannon. Rhiannon Byers. It was unique — maybe too much, since she never introduced with that name, opting for Ari or just peach, since everyone in Hawkins knew her by that name.

She was known, indeed, as the Chief's daughter. And people knew she was a Byers — even though, in the end, she found out the truth about her birth — but they still thought of her as a Hopper. She asked for her last name to be changed. She reffered, in front of teachers and classmates, to Jim Hopper as her dad. People were confused. Joyce had to explain many many times — but she refused to lecture her daughter about it. There were suspicions... she looked nothing like Lonnie. Nor Jonathan or Will, for what's worth. And while she had the best relationship with Will — being protective and supporting him, playing d&d and always acting the part of the monster to be defeated in the Byers' Fort, into the wood, playing knights with her brother — she always fought with Jonathan. And they fought hard. He accused her of not wanting to be part of their life, calling Jim a father while he never was for any of them (still, not knowing the whole truth), she accused him of being envy, and too proud to accept help anytime Jim offered. Jim and Joyce, slowly getting together and falling in love, would talk about this a lot.

She smokes her father's cigarettes, and she knows he knows but they both don't speak about it. She feels guilty every time.

Yes, she has the biggest daddy issue. She grew up twelve years in an abusive household, Lonnie being a prick and mocking her constantly: she was weak, and too small, and braid made her look like an idiot, she would be a waste of time growing up, and who would have ever wanted her? She looked stupid like her mother. These words echoes in her mind every single day, and she does her best to prove them wrong. She wants to be her father's favorite person. She wants to be smart enough, and she struggles to get good grades (not always succeding) and she shouldn't be smoking but curiosity got the best of her, and she started during her first high school year. She just wants to be like him. But he doesn't really see that... he cares and he loves her, but as most fathers in the 80s he's not that good at speaking heart to heart. Mama's the best. Ari rarely spend any time at the Byers house — and Joyce fine with it, since Rhiannon is always at school, in the library, at the Police Station, and when she doesn't want to sleep at home it's because she's sleeping at Jim's — but when she does, they spend hours talking in front of a cup of tea. Mama always has the answer.

Joyce knows deep down Rhiannon is sensitive and sweet like her brothers, just a little rough on the edges like her father. She has a temper, no doubt, and she is a little capricious since Jim spoils her way too much. But still, she is a funny sweet girl.

They drink tea together, on weekends, and they sometimes paint with Will.

She dreams of working for her dad at the Hawkins PD and, for a while, like any other girl in school, she had the hugest cruch on Steve Harrington. Put it was quickly gone and Jim was relive you didn't seem too much interested in guys.

He teaches her how to Rockabilly jive and they perform every Christmas, to the great entertainment of her brothers and Joyce. She would never admit it, but she loves to jive with her dad, she'd gladly to it every other day. Christmas is her favorite day of the year... because on that day she is sure to have her family reunited. And with time passing by, there won't be a single day they won't spend under the same roof. Her brother, her mother and her father — a real family, after all. A little broken, a little messy... but a family nonetheless.

#jopper headcanons #joyce byers headcanons #jim hopper headcanons #chief jim hopper #jim hopper #dad!hopper #mom!joyce byers #hopper!reader #stranger things headcanons #stranger things

[richincolor]

August Most Anticipated Reads

As summer wraps up for me, my TBR pile is still a mile long, but that isn't going to stop me from addign more to it. There are a few books I'm really excited about this August... what are you excited to read this month?

Damned if You Do by Alex Brown

Seven years ago, Cordelia Scott’s abusive father left without a word, and life has been normal ever since. The seventeen-year-old spends her days stage managing the school play (which is going great, if anyone asks), pining over her best friend, Veronica, and failing one too many pop quizzes.

She’s never been sad that her father left, but she knows something is…missing. When her school guidance counselor, Fred, reveals during a session that he’s actually a demon, she learns that something is indeed missing: a piece of her actual soul. Why? She unwittingly made a deal with him to make her father disappear – then bargained to have the memory erased. To make matters worse, Fred is here to make another bargain: Help him with a “little” demonic problem, or she’s doomed to spend eternity in Hell with her father.

The deal? Help Fred neutralize a rival demon, who means to do more harm in her hometown than your average demon deal.

A Tall Dark Trouble by Vanessa Montalban [Out August 29!]

Twin sisters Ofelia and Delfi know better than to get involved with magic. Their Mami has seen to that. After all, it was magic that cursed their family, turning love into a poison. Romance is off the table for the Sanchez women. They’ve seen the curse take hold enough times to know how that road ends. And yet. Sometimes a girl catches feelings and just can’t help herself.

When Ofelia and Delfi begin having premonitions of a series of murders, the sisters know it is time to embrace their magical inheritance to get to the bottom of the mystery and save innocent lives. Teaming up with their best friend Ethan and with brooding detective-in-training Andres, the sisters set out to learn the truth. They just need to make sure Mami doesn’t find out what they’re up to.

Meanwhile, in 1980 Cuba, Anita struggles with a different magical conflict. Her mother, Mama Orti, is a bruja who belongs to a secret coven of elders and Anita knows she will be forced to join the coven herself one day. She sees no escape, though the thought of staying and letting this future claim her is terrifying. Ofelia, Delfi, and Anita’s stories collide as each woman steps into her power and embraces who she truly is, refusing to be subdued by any person, coven, or curse.

Never a Hero (Monsters #2) by Vanessa Len [Out August 29!]

Despite all of the odds, Joan achieved the impossible. She reset the timeline, saved her family – and destroyed the hero, Nick. But her success has come at a terrible cost.

She alone remembers what happened. Now, Aaron, her hard-won friend – and maybe more – is an enemy, trying to kill her. And Nick, the boy she loved, is a stranger who doesn’t even know her name. Only Joan remembers that there is a ruthless and dangerous enemy still out there.

When a deadly attack forces Joan back into the monster world as a fugitive, she finds herself on the run with Nick – as Aaron closes in.

As the danger rises – and Nick gets perilously closer to discovering the truth of what Joan did to him – Joan discovers a secret of her own. One that threatens everyone she loves. Torn between love and family and monstrous choices, Joan must find a way to re-gather her old allies to face down the deadliest of enemies, and to save the timeline itself.

#damned if you do #a tall dark trouble #never a hero #always a monster #new releases #ya lit

[dementedspeedster]

Verse: Reverse AU (Kid Flash Thad) / V: Twin Verse (KF!Thad)

I’m using this as a space to put down information for my KF version of Thad for either a general Reverse AU where Thad was created into a family of heroes or my Twin Verse in which Thad accepted Max’s offer as a child to actually learn and become a hero along side Bart

V: Reverse / Hero AU

Instead of ever becoming a villain or coming from a family of generations of villains Thad instead is created into a family of heroes.

V: Reverse / Hero AU Information Here

V: Twin Verse

Twin Verse: A universe in which Thad accepted Max’s offer to live with him, Helen, and Bart and learns to become a hero, though not without difficulties. Thad and Bart share the role of Kid Flash / Flash in this universe.

Basic Info: I’ll probably be playing Thad around the same age I have for his canon version (21), but I might play him younger depending on the scenario (18-21)

General History: The history/events within this verse follow the events of Impulse and basically Bart’s life. Thad lives with Max and Bart in Manchester, Alabama during the events of Impulse. He begins to learn about becoming a hero under Max’s tutelage and very slowly develops a bond and rivalry with Bart. They’re not immediately brothers, but just learning how to live with each other and both of them want to make Max proud the best way they can though they still but heads with each other. When Max’s body is taken over by the Rival he moves in with Jay and Joan along with Bart. Max’s disappearance is what solidifies a bond between them.They’re the ones who are concerned and care about Max. Who refuse to let him be forgotten and for some time try to find him. Max is important to both of them and through their mutual love of Max as a parental-like figure they bond and stick together as each other’s most trusted person in their life because they know what the other is going through. When they grow older they both take up the role of Flash. (Which is quite helpful for their personal lives, but also keeping their identity hidden as they can use the other to keep the idea that the Flash and their civilian identity are separate. Ex: They’ve both been seen with the Flash on separate occasions therefore neither of them could be the Flash!)

Unlike Bart, Thad (during his KF era) has little experience with other heroes and teams

Thad is still in the beginnings of his hero career even once he becomes Kid Flash. He hasn’t had much interaction with other heroes outside of the Flash fam. This is due to him being kept around the Manchester/Keystone/and Central with his training as a hero and under the watch of the older speedsters just so they can keep track of his progress, but also because they’re concerned if others would accept him since he was previously a villain. There was some concern with his transition from villain to hero, how he would do with it, and because of his temper/old habits flaring up from time to time. They wanted to make sure he was ready to interact with other heroes as well. But overall Thad has calmed down from his days as Inertia and does enjoy and like being a hero.

Thad is familiar with the groups around his age like YJ and Teen Titans, but he hasn’t worked much with them except on rare occasions.

He has concerns that since Bart was apart of these teams first he’ll be considered some sort of replacement or compared to him. (Or that he’ll be considered the second string Kid Flash essentially).

He had worked with them a few times but only when Bart’s also on the team.

The YJ and/or Teen Titans might assume he’s snobbish because he hasn’t worked with him before. There can/may be some discord between himself and these teams.

Thad takes up the mantle of Kid Flash some time after Bart.

He still has concerns about his place amongst the Flash Fam and heroes in general. He really wants to be a hero, and a good hero, but is concerned that others don’t trust him or will judge him for his past. It’s an anxiety for him. 

Thad is also concerned with his identity. Not as clone, though that may come up from time to time, but what is more at the forefront of his mind is his concern of whether he’s good enough to be apart of the family/the Flash Family. He’s scared to be abandoned or thrown away again.

Once he’s settled into the role of KF and as a hero he starts to interact with heroes more and work with them more widespread instead of just being a Central/Keystone/local speedster.

His smile is softer now, but it can be very Thawne like at times too.

Originally With: Speedyistheotherguy

I primarily use the Kid Flash version of this AU, but he can appear as the Flash as well.

As Kid Flash: Bart and Thad share the name and mantle of Kid Flash, but have different costumes which differentiate them out in the field. Thad wears a Kid Flash costume with the colors reversed. His costume is primarily more red (as seen above).

As The Flash: Thad and he share the cowl, but they use the exact same costume, which makes them difficult to differentiate to the public, villains

Villains (except for the Rogues/local villains in general if they’re well informed) and people who are not local to the Twin Cities (Keystone and Central City) don’t typically know that there are two active Flashes at the same time, which gives them more of a ‘The Flash can be everywhere at once’ vibe.

However, if you watch The Flash carefully it is possible to tell when it’s Thad under the mask and when it’s Bart under the mask.

Thad is more serious, less smilely, but he does try with the public and especially kids, he’s more willing to give younger villains a chance thanks to his background, however he is the more temperamental (easier to anger; his usual triggers of being called a fake and related to his status as clone are still a hot button to push with him and he will get angry), and less merciful at times when it comes to his demeanor and fighting style.

Bart is more jovial and likes to joke and quip as the Flash. Bart’s a bit more creative with using his powers.

#I have absolutely no memory of making this edit #V: Twin Verse #V: Reverse AU (KF!Thad) #long post #info #don't reblog please #more will be added in the future

[bakerstreetbabble]

Rex Stout: "Watson Was a Woman?"

[The article below is my second full-length article to be published on I Hear of Sherlock Everywhere.  Enjoy!]

"an experience of women which extends over many nations and three separate continents..." [SIGN] 

In all the recent debates among Sherlockians over the CBS program Elementary, one will often find vehement disagreement over the decision of the show's creator's decision to cast Lucy Liu as "Joan Watson." They will say that it destroys the all-male dynamic of Holmes and Watson's relationship, they will worry that it will develop into a romantic relationship, they will say "It's simply not Holmesian!" All the while, the assumption seems to be that the idea of casting Watson as a female role is a new (and perhaps dangerous or ill advised) idea. As we'll see, that simply is not the case.

Let us consider an article published in The Saturday Review of Literature, March 1, 1941, written by a certain Rex Stout, creator of another famous detective, Nero Wolfe. The article, based on a speech Stout had given to the Baker Street Irregulars earlier that year, was entitled "Watson Was a Woman." Stout, apparently with tongue implanted firmly in cheek, opens his article thusly: You will forgive me for refusing to join in your commemorative toast, "The Second Mrs. Watson," when you learn it was a matter of conscience. I could not bring myself to connive at the perpetuation of a hoax. Not only was there never a second Mrs. Watson; there was not even a first Mrs. Watson. Furthermore, there was no Doctor Watson. Please keep your chairs. "Please keep your chairs," indeed. To address a gathering of Sherlockians, opening with the words "there was no Doctor Watson" seems to be a potentially disastrous idea. Remember, Sir Arthur Conan Doyle had only died about a decade before Stout dared to give his speech and publish his article. I can only imagine the outrage that must have taken place among some of the Sherlockians who first read or heard these words!

It gets better, though. Mr. Stout goes on to quote from one of Watson's earliest impressions of Holmes, in A Study in Scarlet: ...he had invariably breakfasted and gone out before I rose in the morning." Aha! A clue... Stout continues:

I was indescribably shocked. How had so patent a clue escaped so many millions of readers through the years? That was, that could only be, a woman speaking of a man. Read it over. The true authentic speech of a wife telling of her husband's-- but wait. I was not indulging in idle speculation, but seeking evidence to establish a fact. It was unquestionably a woman speaking of a man, yes, but whether a wife of a husband, or a mistress of a lover, . . . I admit I blushed. So here we have it! Not nearly as coy as the creators of Elementary would be seventy years later, Rex Stout presents the theory that Watson was a woman, and not just any woman: either the wife or mistress of Sherlock Holmes! "My blushes, Watson!" (I can almost hear the great detective saying it...)

Mr. Stout finds more proof in Watson's statement about Holmes's prowess on the violin: ". . . his powers upon the violin . . . at my request he has played me some of Mendelssohn's Lieder. . ." He writes: "Imagine a man asking another man to play him some of Mendelssohn's Lieder on a violin!" Stout goes on to develop his theory of Watson as the wife of Sherlock Holmes. He finds particularly interesting Watson's role as a "reformist wife," in his attempts to break Holmes of his cocaine addiction.

Further on is possibly the most incredible (or the most ridiculous, depending on your point of view) bit of deduction in the entire article. In an almost acrobatic feat of acrostics, Rex (I don't think he'd mind me calling him "Rex") arranges eleven of the adventures in the canon in the following order:

Illustrious Client Red-headed League Engineer's Thumb Norwood Builder Empty House

Wisteria Lodge Abbey Grange Twisted Lip Study in Scarlet Orange Pips Noble Bachelor

IRENE WATSON! All he has to do after this bit of legerdemain is to connect the name "Irene Watson" with the classic description of Irene Adler as "the woman," and his case is complete.

Towards the end of the article, Stout admits: 

"All this is very sketchy... I am now collecting material for a fuller treatment of the subject, a complete demonstration of the evidence and the inevitable conclusion." Presumably no further treatment of the theory was forthcoming, and one has to wonder if the whole thing, speech and subsequent article, was just a little fun at his fellow Sherlockians' expense.

It's plain to see, then, that the idea of Watson as a woman is hardly a novel one; inflammatory for some Sherlockians, certainly, but not new. It's no secret that Watson has appeared in many different guises over the years: old man, young man, doddering, comical, and intelligent. Indeed, in the world of film and TV adaptations, Watson has been presented as a woman in 1971's They Might Be Giants (Dr. Mildred Watson becomes the companion of Justin Playfair, a man who thinks he is Sherlock Holmes), and as a robot in the animated series Sherlock Holmes in the 22nd Century (a robot companion programmed to believe his is the original Dr. Watson). To borrow from Ecclesiastes,"there is nothing new under the sun."

[You can read the Rex Stout article in its entirety here, or if you'd prefer a PDF of the article as it appeared in The Saturday Review of Literature in March of 1941, here for the first two pages and here for the final page.]

#I Hear of Sherlock Everywhere #Sherlock Holmes #Watson was a woman

[tthebanished]

STATS

NAME: edward ‘eddie’ munson hayes AGE: 23 GENDER: trans man ORIENTATION: pansexual / queer  OCCUPATION: musician PARENTS: sarah hayes (mother), james munson (father) SIBLINGS: damien munson (half-brother)   PETS: black cat (ozzy) + racoon (joan) EYE COLOR: brown HAIR COLOR: brunette HAIR STYLE: short(ish), growing it out, soft curls   DETAILS: several tattoos, top surgery scars, scar on his abdomen  ALIGNMENTS: chaotic good ZODIAC: leo sun, capricorn moon, scorpio rising  ALLERGIES: ironically cats, penicillin

HISTORY

eddie is a proud transman, he is the frontman for the band hellfire, a nu-metal meets 90's grunge inspired trio from Chicago, IL. eddie knew from a young age that he was a boy, came out to his parents when he was FIFTEEN years old, and while his mom was relatively supportive, his dad was not. the first thing eddie did after he came out to his parents with shave his head, he loved his hair, and while it broke his fucking heart to do it, it marked the start of a new beginning, and his first attempt to break away from the forced femininity of the last 15 years of his life.

his dad's abuse got worse, the name-calling, the misgendering, eventually lead to bruise that he'd hide, until social services stepped in, and he went to live with his uncle wayne. his uncle wayne is where he gets his love of music from, when he moved in with him he started learning guitar on his uncle's old acoustic, as it turned out the kid was a natural with a real ear for learning song by sound alone, no need for tabs. in freshman year he started a garage band with his friends, called corroded coffin their shows would always bring a decent little crowd but eddie eventually outgrew them, and when his friends went off to college eddie didn't, eddie found himself a new sound, and a new bassist and the band hellfire was born.

eddie moved to LA with his best friend and the drummer of hellfire, jd (@clockworkfm) just shy of his twentieth birthday, the band were almost picked up by a larger record label but wanted the band to tone down their image and lyrics and didn't love how loud and unapologetically queer eddie was, eddie refused to dull himself down for whatever ridiculous heteronormative bullshit was being pushed on him, so they turned down the offer, but it wasn't long before they found themselves signed with another LA based independent label, stranger records inc.

by twenty-three eddie had saved enough to for his top surgery, and that was when the eddie we all now and love really came into himself. his confidence sky rocketed and he started growing his hair out again, no longer scared to lean into what he's once seen as feminine now with a more, fuck you attitude to conformity he started to explore his self-expression more, messing around with his image, a little eyeliner here, black painted nails, leather skirts on stage, and showing off his top surgery scars with fucking pride whenever he plays a show.

eddie has a lowkey drug problem, but he's what you'd call a functional addict but has been known to show up to shows and interviews high as fuck, he's been using drugs as a coping mechanism / self-medicating himself for ADHD which went undiagnosed until very recently.

he's also worked on some solo projects, with an acoustic EP released in its own right under his stage name eddie hayes towards the end of the pandemic in 2020, he recorded and wrote the whole thing in his home studio, and it's his most vulnerable and personal work to date. currently, the band are working on their third studio album.

#❛ so you think you know me ❜ [ headcanons ] #this is all on my google doc but decided to make it the dash's problem lmao

[stevelovegood]

Maybe you got the wrong impression that Marka Khristyna is friendly with everyone in the Inquisition. In fact, it's not like that, she doesn't even communicate with everyone. Partly it's because for quite some time she thought of herself as just one of many, being among the mages sent by Fiona from Redcliffe to help close the Breach. Partly because some of them she doesn't like and prefer no interaction at all rather than bad one.

The fact that Eranehn, the Inquisitor, considers her as his friend sometimes still surprises Tyna. They didn't talk very much in Haven, Marka didn't spend much time there at all.

But in Skyhold, Josephine had asked Khristyna to help the Inquisitor learn the dances for the Orlais ball, because Eranehn seemed terrified just thinking about having to dance this in front of everyone. Josephine's choice fell on Marka because she is noble, so she knows and is able to do everything that is needed, and most importantly, her character will not allow her to refuse. Yes, it was pure manipulation by Josephine, but who is not without a sin.

So, before the ball, Marka and Eranehn spent many hours together (with Josephine somewhere nearby of course), so it is not surprising that Eranehn, for whom even half an hour of communication is enough to consider you a friend, began to feel her in this way.

Another reason for this on his part - Marka is friendly with Dorian. It happened by chance when Dorian knew that she was Trevelyan and remembered that they were some distant relatives. This mention piqued her interest, she requested a complete family tree from Ostwick, and later found several lines linking her house to the House of Pavus. According to one of them, these two turned out to be cousins some-x removed, so since then they sometimes refer to each other as Brother and Sister. However, according to another line, there was a marriage between the two houses, where the representative of the Trevelyans was one generation older than Pavus. And since then, Dorian jokingly calls Marka "aunty", and she calls him "dear nephew", despite the fact (or rather, because of this), she is about three years younger than him.

It is because of this Marka feels a bit like an aunt to Eranehn as well, it is almost natural, because he is younger than her, and she knows what it is like to be an aunt (because her eldest brother, Joan Matthias, already has two children before the Inquisition), but she does not know, how to be an older sister (because she is the youngest in the family. Even the seventh brother Mikael Gabriel, also adopted at the same time as her, is six months older than Marka Khristyna).

Besides Eranehn, Dorian, and obviously Cullen, Marka is closest to Cassandra. Marka is easy with her, because they share the same faith, and their opinions about the Chantry coincide on many questions. Marka admires Cassandra's confidence, and the way strength, courage, romance and charm are combined in her.

Marks can't say that herself and Vivienne are close friends, but Tyna definitely respects her, as a strong woman, who has love, power and respect; as a mage, who know her limits and what she is capable of; as experienced Knight-Enchanter from whom Marka can learn so much.

About the rest of the inner circle of Unquisistion Marka can't say they're friends. With some of them she can drink in a tavern, or chat, or play (cards or lute or something else) from time to time. With others - nothing but polite greetings.

#dragon age #dragon age inquisition #dragon age oc #Marka Khristyna Trevelyan #Eranehn Lavellan #dorian pavus #cassandra pentaghast #vivienne de fer

[toongrrl-blog]

Body Image 2021 in the Media

We should all feel like Joan when we look in the mirror...

Okay so onetime I read this article and I thought: “Lovely lovely, but there is something about it that is bugging me...” Then it hit me that the representation wasn’t diverse in that article and I know 2021 had media depictions that would expand the conversation regarding body image. 

So here are my picks:

1. Never Have I Ever (Season 2)

It wasn’t the best decision Devi made when she blurted out that the new girl (and her fellow comrade as being the token Indian girls at their school) Aneesa, is recovering from an eating disorder that she picked up while at a all-girl’s prep school where she was the only Brown girl (and only Muslim at that) where she was ignored except when receiving positive feedback about her slim figure, thus triggering her disorder. 

Sadly WOC often are overlooked when eating disorders are discussed, in favor of privileged white girls (thin ones at that), and recovery is often presented as accessible and overnight. But Aneesa shows that even the most together person could be struggling with something and given how little her bites are, her ED habits don’t disappear overnight. It’s also important to note that Aneesa picked up her disorder in a high-stress (especially in academics), upper class environment where racism was in the air. Aneesa felt the pressure to fit in, her body was the only thing that gained some semblance of approval from her white peers, it made sense that she was determined not to lose it. 

That said: the series does a good job putting women of color (and their experiences) front and center. From the Indian American Devi (a flawed and relatable character played by newcomer Maitreyi Ramikrishnan), her Afro-Latina friend Fabiola (who refutes the Sassy Black Woman stereotype with her quiet nature and holds STEM interests and explores her lesbian identity), Chinese American Eleanor (who is loud, dramatic, loving, and bold in her presentation), the Indian American Aneesa (outwardly confident and easy-going), Devi’s grieving and strong-willed mother Nalini, and Kamala (Devi’s “perfect” cousin who starts to push back against the expectations put on her as a South Asian woman from both her family and her professors). 

2. Why Women Kill (Season 2)

Classism, Ableism, Fatphobia, Social Totem Poles, Prejudice. These issues are at the core of the characters who struggle with self-image or desirability in the second season of this (highly underrated) anthology series of the dramedy from Desperate Housewives creator Marc Cherry. The story centers on the seemingly meek and hapless “frump” Alma Fillcott (played by a drabed down Allison Tollman) who envies and wants to join the garden club presided over by the beautiful trophy wife Rita Castillo (Lana Parilla who ATE this role); Alma deals with a lot of slights her direction due to her appearance, despite the love of a devoted husband and a daughter (Dee, who is heavier than her mother and more fashionable and prettied up) while Rita deals with an elderly and abusive husband (who refuses to die) that throws her former life as a sex worker in her face. We learn that Alma was cheated on by her high school boyfriend at senior prom for a thinner and more glamorous girl, Detective Vern (Rita’s detective and Dee’s eventual husband) dealt with being dumped after a disfiguring injury he gotten in World War II (did I mention this story was set in 1949?), Dee puts up with men who only see her in secret due to her weight, and Rita came from a poor family that was regarded as dirt by members of the community she grew up in and ended up in a physically abusive marriage until her cousin shot the guy (sadly turned out to be still alive) before being in her current one. Through the Garden Club, we see how social privilege and prejudice can be weaponized to climb up on the necks of other members (basically hierarchies are very predatory). 

3. The Baby-Sitters’ Club (Season 2)

Back when the original book series came out in 1985, Stacey McGill made history as a character with a chronic health condition/disability (Diabetes) whose character wasn’t defined by her illness. She was glamorous for girls her age, sophisticated and somewhat mature, she was pretty as a model, boys liked her (currency in middle school), the kids she babysat adored her, she had well-coiffed and fashionable blonde hair, she was super good at math; she was proof that a person with a chronic condition/disability could be relatable, natch, even aspirational. 

The sadly now defunct Netflix series updates the story and goes further, with Stacey; showcasing how social media and the shame projected upon by a parent can hurt a child. Instead of pricking her fingers, Stacey has a insulin pump that her Mother (at first) wants her to conceal, therefore making the girl feel she needs to be ashamed of her appearance and while she was harassed at her old school for fainting at lunch and missing school and wetting the bed at a sleepover, Stacey had a seizure in the lunchroom that was filmed by a classmate. Therefore Stacey endured her shame going viral online (this goes hand in hand with Monica Lewinsky’s story as she details in 15 Minutes of Shame and in our last entry of this post) and after moving to Connecticut, has to revisit it there too where parental skepticism (unconscious ableism) even forces her and her friends to defend her competence and skill as a babysitter. That same season also sees Stacey live life as usual, being boy-crazy and babysitting her charges before she confronts one of her former tormentors at summer camp, gifting some catharsis despite the result of poison ivy.

Season Two sees Stacey with bickering parents and struggling to reconcile her image of a young person positively managing her condition with the ambivalence she feels about her disability, especially when she tells a friend (a talented ballerina) that she envies the girl’s body for being able to make these elaborate and demanding movements while Stacey has to work hard to make sure her body functions regularly. 

Stacey’s storyline showcases a disabled character who is a full person in her own right, with the important caveat that if you can’t reach body positivity, body neutrality is just as sufficient. 

4. Encanto.

I have problems with this movie and many of it’s characters; that said, lets get into the good, the bad (well how it depicts the bad with some awareness), and the not really “unspecial” on what this film says about body image. 

Good: FIrst, the family and the villagers showcase a mixture of skin colors, body types, sizes, shapes, heights, hair textures without depicting one or the other as worse or better; facial features are brought into the mix with the large noses of Abuela Alma, Pepa, Bruno, and Isabella, Indigenous and African and Mestizo and European features are in the mix, Mirabel is a young woman with a short-ish, “average” body type with a wide nose and curly hair while older sister Luisa is depicted as muscular and feminine.

The Depiction of the Bad: The film depicts (subtly) how beauty ideals can poison family relations, especially who is the most pressured or ignored. Abuela Alma ignores/disrespects her average-build and regular-cute with wide nose and curly hair and bespectacled Mirabel while forcing the muscular and large Luisa to be a workhorse and Dolores to be used as a snitch despite being as pretty and slender as Isabella with her long, straight/wavy hair. Let’s not get into how Mirabel’s lack of powers can be an allegory for disability, something that society has used as an excuse to dehumanize and see as “surplus”, and sadly an attitude that hasn’t gone away (environmental fascism and straws). I also wanna look at how Luisa’s body marks her as a workhorse who gets no rest or relaxation (not even on her cousin’s ceremony or sister’s engagement dinner) by her grandmother and that raggedy ass village while Isabella gets to be the ornament and how Isa getting her “imperfect” white blossoms plucked by Abuela after she stresses out stands in for the many times that women, like myself, could be doing or talking about anything but the focus is still on our looks rather than our substance. 

Not Really “Unspecial”: The film points out, like The Breakfast Club did 36 years before, it’s a grave mistake to reduce people to “the simplest terms and the most convenient definitions”. Luisa is more than the muscle, she is a sensitive and loving person who needs a rest; Mirabel lacks magic powers but she is a loving and devoted girl (too devoted, I say) with talents in parkour and fashion design; Isabella is more than the beauty queen, but is a creative agriculturalist; and Bruno is a loving man who keeps it real and a creative who acts out plays with his rats. 

5. Spencer.

A jarring and beautifully creative look at a woman struggling with her eating disorder and her dying marriage under the weight of in-laws who don’t respect her boundaries and see her as just a ornamental broodmare. We see Princess Diana in the final days of her marriage as she experiences the Christmas Holiday at Sandrigham where the family is ceremonily weighed before and after the festivities, the movie left me breathless, like texts I read for Women’s Studies classes in college and plus we need more car scenes like this in the cinema again. 

6. American Crime Story: Impeachment.

Monica Lewinsky is my dream wifey. She is also someone who dealt with having her sexuality and body bashed and demeaned in the media either as a grotesque for her fluctuating voluptuous figure (this was the age of heroin chic) or as a girl with more looks and breasts than brains or a venomous femme fatale. 

Monica’s struggle can be tied to the trope of The Bombshell, who is either adulated for her beauty (like Bill Clinton and Linda Tripp did when meeting her) or treated like an animal for her sexuality (the media fallout and how her ex lover and ex friend betrayed her); like I feel so angry for Monica to the point I wanna fight Bill, Linda, Ken Starr, David Letterman, and Jay Leno. Like I am mad that Monica, young and gorgeous and educated was raked over the coals so hard. Like people acted like she wasn’t it, then again those folks thought Hillary wasn’t hot enough for Bill (NEWSFLASH: From what I saw some Gen Z thought young Hillary looked like Sabrina Carpenter, who is Disney Star pretty, while Bill is meh in presentation); how could they see Monica with that broad, gleaming smile, those soft cheeks, the babylike skin, the long and thick shiny hair that was the hottest thing to have in the 90s, the square jawline that made Brooke Shields launch a standard of beauty that lasted more than a decade, the full lush lips that no amount of collagen injections could replicate, the green eyes with the dark lashes, symmetrical face that fit most Western standards of beauty, and the curvaceous figure with breasts and hips and everything....but she was made to feel bad about those features because she grew up in Beverly Hills where (as Mo’Nique said) they prefer knitting needles with boob jobs to hourglasses and pears. Let’s not get into how every woman in Bill Clinton’s orbit was look shamed in the media: maybe his Momma, Hillary, Chelsea, Betty Currie (like Linda was portrayed in drag on SNL, but funny we don’t get much shine on that), Monica, Paula Jones (despite being one half of Ugly Guy, Hot Wife, was shamed into a nose job), Linda Tripp (hack hack hack), Janet Reno. 

As an aside, as much as I loathe the late Linda Tripp (my TikTok could be considered a Linda Tripp Hate account), the mocking of her looks skewed as fatphobic and transmisogynistic. We can talk about what a shitty person she was and make fun of her without throwing marginalized people under the bus, people. Plus she is a look at how the Plain Jane type can have the potential of churning her bitterness over rejection into directing it at other women, especially prettier women. Hurt people, hurt people and I believe that Linda was a Karen of the highest order, a lady in waiting to Carolyn Bryant and a DUFF to Yolanda Salvidar with Phyllis Schlafly’s raggedy weave. 

I was a kid then and I wondered what pretty Monica, who looked like a movie star had to do with the President. Good thing I didn’t know how bad it was, would’ve made me wanna die. I’m so happy she is telling her story, which is why we are all here today.

Now I think we need to end this post with this bop to carry out your day

#body image #intersectionality #feminism #intersectional feminism #race #gender #disability #eating disorders #diet culture #women in media #never have i ever #why women kill #the babysitters club #encanto #spencer #impeachment acs #princess diana #monica lewinsky #linda tripp #hillary clinton #betty currie #chelsea clinton #paula jones #fatphobia #classism #the proud family louder and prouder #penny proud

[jimlingss]

Moirai [2]

Chapter 1 - Chapter 2 - Chapter 3

➜ Words: 6.2k

➜ Genres: 60% Fluff, 40% Angst, Isekai!AU

➜ Summary: Death is supposed to be the end. Or at least that's what you assumed when you're hit by a TRUCK. But the moment you open your eyes again, instead of being sent to the afterlife, you've become a baby. And not just any baby. You're the female villain of a video game.

You turn the corner and dart down the hall.   “My lady!”   There’s a parade of maids chasing after you, Joan included in the bunch, and a frightened guard whose metal armour clanks with each movement. You grin, swinging your wooden sword around at them with a ‘huzzah!’. Pretending you’re a champion, you twirl around the pillar with one arm. But even with your theatrics, they’re still meters away and out of reach.   “Please! Come back! You have your dance lessons!”   You stick out your tongue. “Then catch me!”   It’s been one full year since you’ve started learning swordsmanship and admittedly, it’s become one of your most favourite times of the day. It beats sitting at a desk with the old fart droning on and on about dumb things you already know or having your posture criticized over and over again during dance lessons.    You’re frankly getting tired of having information and insults shoved down your throat.    Sword lessons are the only time you can be out in the sun and do whatever you want. You can tell that you’re improving too. It’s a pain in the ass to get the guards to take you seriously, but sometimes the tips and tricks they give are pretty helpful.   It’s fun.   Especially when there are people desperately chasing you.   “P-Please!” one of the girls cries out, running out of breath.   One of the best perks about being a five-year old is having endless energy in your body. And you’ll happily take advantage of that while you still can. “Pirates never give up! Argh, matey!”   But your play time is unfortunately interrupted by a deadpanning voice—   “What are you doing?”    The familiar sharp voice sends shivers up your spine and you freeze.   Your parade halts on their heels as well, immediately dropping their heads to the ground and placing one hand over the other reverently. “Your grace.”   “What is going on here?” Your mother’s footsteps echo through the marble hall, ball gown dragged behind her as her scrutinizing eyes lay on the help, the knight and then to you.   “I’m so sorry,” Joan is quick to confess, “The lady refuses to attend her dance practices.”   And she’s quick to throw you under the bus.   If you could, you’d stick up your middle finger at her.   Your mother turns, her glare laid upon you. You brace yourself.   “This is not how the future Devereux head should act.” Her voice is above a slight murmur, yet chilling and heavy. Her narrowed eyes have dimmed as they look upon you. She doesn’t need to yell to be frightening. “The Chevalier household has their youngest daughter playing piano and they recently went to the castle to show her talent. How will you compete, Anastasia?”   “I—”   “Or will you continue to tarnish our family’s name by being a child?”   You are a child. Technically.    The woman looms over you, her demeanour imposing and the burden of the household’s name lays upon your shoulders. You can’t help but feel small. It’s no wonder Anastasia took the Prince’s kindness as love and fell for him so quickly. Moments with him were her moments of freedom.   You stay quiet, solemn, knowing it’s not worth arguing. Your eyes instead focus on a younger maid who’s silently snickering to herself and before you can make note for later, your vision blurs.   “From now on, your swordsmanship lessons will be retracted until you’ve caught up with the rest of your lessons,” she says while looking straight ahead, not sparing you a glance. “The only places you are to be permitted in for the next month is your room and the study—”   It’s unfair. A punishment that doesn’t fit the crime.   But your voice doesn’t come out of your mouth.   The world tilts on an axis. It swirls. Your head is lightweight.    And before you could figure out what’s happening, there’s a shrill cry for you — “my lady!” — and you feel yourself falling back before the universe becomes pitch black. An abyss of nothing.   //   “Why did she faint?!”   When you come to, your first thought is that you’ve died. Again.   Illness. Heart attack. Maybe from the plague.    Fuck.   It’s frightening and you feel an urge to cry, knowing that you yet again didn’t complete your goal of living a long and fruitful life. That the years spent fighting for your survival were ultimately useless. But then you hear far away voices and realize your fingers can twitch. The soft mattress underneath you registers soon after and it sinks in that you’re in your room, bedridden.   “Well….your grace…”   “On with it! I didn’t bring you here to waste my time!”   “Herrick…”   Oh right. It’s the Eve of the Solar Festival, isn’t it? A day where commoners celebrate the empire and wish for its everlasting prosperity. You remember since you’ve never gone before. Around this same time last year and the year before that, you fell ill in the exact same way — cold, chest aching, dizzy spells.    It’s odd. Usually you aren’t so weak and yet somehow, you always get better in the morning once the festival is over. You don’t remember this ever being mentioned in the original game either. Or at least Anastasia never said anything about it and she would’ve totally milked it for the Prince’s attention if she could’ve. But maybe it’s an outside detail. Something the game developers were going to include in a future DLC.   “We don’t know what’s happening to the lady, your grace,” the healer says.   Your father bellows from his stomach, “Excuse me?!”   “H-Her pulse reads well and she has no fever either. I-It’s a very unusual case.”   In your half-consciousness, you perceive the bitter silence.    “Heal her at all costs.” Your father’s footsteps fade and your mother sighs.   You wish you couldn’t hear. Otherwise, it would be easy to demonize the pair as unsympathetic, psychopathic parents who only consider their daughter a chess piece. You’re sure the only reason they’re expressing so much concern is because you are the only heir after all. They really have no future if Anastasia dies.    But it’s still hard to quell the hope that they actually care for your wellbeing.    Still, you wish you couldn’t hear their desperation. It wouldn’t have to be so conflicting. Or bittersweet. The only time they show an ounce of their affection is when you’re on your deathbed.   You muster the strength to open your eyes once everyone’s left the room.    Most likely, you’ll live through this. You still have yet to have any of the game’s encounters or even start. Anastasia was alive for most of it, enough to terrorize the main character, so you’ll live too.   Shit. When does the game start again?   The opening scene was right before the debutante ball was held for all the girls in the empire.   You count on your fingers — give or take, there’s twelve or thirteen years left….   But you remember from the wiki fan page that Anastasia became engaged to the Crown Prince when they were kids.    Oh god. If you weren’t so weak, you’d roll over and scream into your pillow.   There’s an unsettling feeling boiling in the pit of your stomach.   No matter how much effort you put forth, you don’t know how you’re going to avoid that arrangement.

Turns out, it’s unavoidable.   It begins two years later at seven years old, the D-day that you were dreading, the first domino that begins all the others.   “No! Please!” The entire household is stunned at how you’ve grabbed onto the Duke’s leg and wrapped your limbs around his appendage, practically dead weight and not allowing him to move a single step.    All your life, you’ve kept a good amount of distance between your parents — never daring to overstep your boundaries or sass them back no matter how much you wanted to. It’s more trouble than it’s worth anyway and it’s better to play on their good side.   But you’ve thrown in the towel. This is your last desperate attempt.   “I’ll be good, I promise I’ll go to all my dance lessons and all my history lessons and all my math lessons. Please, papa! Please!” You’re practically crying aloud. You wish someone would help you. “I don’t want to go to the Royal Palace!”   Edith is shaking her head while Joan is mortified at the sidelines.   Your mother’s expression is twisted in disgust while your dad is wholly aghast. Hey — it’s not like you wanted to do this either, alright?!   But your pleas fall on deaf ears. To them, it’s merely the whining of a child. A temper tantrum.   “My lady, please stop this,” Joan harshly whispers and rushes to pry your grip off of the Duke’s leg. Several others come too, maids and kitchen staff alike. Your strength is no match for theirs.   “My stomach hurts!”   Your father has no sympathy. “We’ve delayed enough times, Anastasia. If we postpone the meeting with the King again, it would be shameful to our house. Now get up.”   He’s done hearing the excuses — and while you’d usually internally call him out for being an ass, the moment you heard he wanted to take you to the palace, you did claim you have a fever.    Then you claimed diarrhea. A cough. Hid for several hours.   You’re actually surprised you managed to delay it for this long.   “There’s no choice, my lady,” Joan mutters quickly as she fixes the ribbons in your pretty hairdo. “You must go with the Duke today.”   Deep down, you know it’s true. You’ll be pulled along anyhow.    But you wish they would understand that this is a matter of life and death for you.   Your silence is a sign of raising the white flag and Joan retracts back to her place as your dad turns to leave the manor. He adjusts his hat as he’s escorted to the carriage and you’re about to trail after him, but your mother stops you.   You expect her to reprimand you, give an earful of what you should and shouldn’t do. But you’re surprised when she lowers herself down to your eye level.    She catches you off guard when she reaches out to button up your pea coat, attentive and careful in each swift movement. “This is a really important meeting, Anastasia. Do you understand?”    Her voice is soft, quiet enough that no one else aside from you can hear. You nod.   “You must be on your best behaviour. Your father, me, all the workers here, and the whole House of Devereux will be relying on you.” Wow. Way to not pressure a seven year old. “Today is the day that might change our lives for the better.”   As she finishes buttoning, her hands stroke your shoulders down your arms. The Duchess smiles gingerly, tiredly. For a moment, you feel guilty for being so selfish — for prioritizing your own survival and desires when everyone else was quite literally relying on you for their livelihood.   You find yourself swallowing hard before nodding again.    You get into the carriage without another word.    Well fuck. What now?   A part of you wishes you ran away when you had the opportunity — even though there was a good chance you would’ve been kidnapped and sold at an underground market or gone hungry or be shipped back right to your parents. Ashea, like any other place, doesn’t take kindly to wandering children.   But at least then you would’ve had more control and choice.    You know this isn’t just a fun field trip to the palace. The only reason the Duke and the King would meet like this is to seek an engagement. Your engagement with the Prince’s.    Half an hour later, you peek out the carriage windows to see the castle at the horizon.   Stone walls, seven towers, lookouts, the empire’s flag fluttering in the breeze — it’s a beautiful place with rolling green hills and beds of flowers that wind up the path. It’s a hundred times more grand than the Devereux estate and ten times the size too, stretching across for miles. But it’s also the location where all of it happens.    The beginning. The climax. The end.   “Anastasia.”   Your attention is taken when your father steps off the carriage. You take the servant's hand and hop down onto the cobblestone, following your father closely. He greets an important person or two and you lower your head to them in greeting as they complement how mannerly you are.   The two of you are led through open, lavish halls full of life-sized portraits and marble statues, and then through the garden. Even in both your lifetimes, you’ve never seen so many different kinds of flowers and vivid hues in one place.    Pansies. Orchids. Marigold.    Magenta. Lavender. Marmalade.   But you don't get to admire it for long. Not when the gazebo comes into sight.    A man with straight posture, dark hair streaked with gray to show his age and deep set eyes sits at the rounded table. Even with the absence of his crown, his status is shown through his navy cape ornate with golden swirls held together by an emerald jewel embellished with the royal crest. Wrinkles around his mouth, he has a fiercely stern expression until he cordially smiles as your father approaches.    Beside him is a spitting image, a smaller boy slumped in the white chair, visibly bored.   “Herrick! Good to see you, my old friend.”   “Your Majesty.” Your father bows and you follow suit, giving a curtsy and lowering your head. But at the same time, you can’t help peeking at the boy. His eyes meet yours and you look away.   Oh fuck.   It’s the first meeting between the Prince and Anastasia.    You’re sure for her it was impactful, nerve wracking, life changing. And it’s like that for you as well, but not so much on the positive side.   “Please, the formalities. Is this the daughter you've been speaking so highly about?”   “Yes, this is my only child, Anastasia.”   You plaster on a perfect, little smile. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Your Majesty.”   The King hums. “A very lovely child indeed. The Devereux House is blessed.”   The Duke smiles. “Thank you.”   “Please sit and make yourselves welcome.” The King gestures and the servants nearby scurry over, pulling out your chairs, pouring tea and placing plates of biscuits on their table. In a blink, they’ve finished and you can’t help but muse how much better they are than the servants back at home. The King smiles and looks at his son. “Jungkook, don’t you have anything to say?”   “Nice to meet you,” he deadpans before his doe eyes wander out to the gardens.    Jungkook is wholly disinterested in you and this entire affair — you don’t blame him. You bet any seven year old would be itching to get out of their seat. But looking at him, you can’t believe you liked him so much in the game. You even had him as your phone wallpaper for a few months.   But from the perspective of Anastasia and knowing your outcome and your impending demise, he’s not even cute as a kid.   If anything, sitting across from him stresses you the fuck out.   You weren’t supposed to even meet him. This was the exact opposite of your battle plans. And yet the engagement is going to happen whether you like it or not. The greatest irony of all is that you know he’ll end up falling in love with the main character anyway instead of you. Aka. the orphaned girl who ends up adopted by a baron.   This whole ordeal only serves to make you suffer.   The only way you could sabotage this meeting now is by slamming the teapot over Prince Jungkook’s head. And that would either get you thrown in jail for treason and executed or sent back to the Devereux estate on house arrest where your mother would kill you.   Oh god. It’s death either way.   “Are the sweets not to your liking?”   It takes a second for you to register that the King is looking at you. That he’s speaking to you.   You go wide-eyed, realizing you haven’t had a bite of the cakes, the biscuits or sipped on any tea. You’ve completely tuned out their conversation. But he’s been watching you and Jungkook from the corner of his eye, assessing your interactions closely.    Your palms go clammy as you open your mouth before closing it.    “She’s just shy,” your dad swiftly informs with a polite smile. It’s a complete lie, but one the royal monarch believes.   “Ah. We shouldn’t bore them with adult talk then.” The man turns to his son. “Jungkook, why don’t you go off and play with Anastasia here?”   “Okay,” he mumbles and slides off his chair.   You follow suit, a bit relieved that you were dismissed from the overly formal atmosphere.   The two of you go deeper into the gardens until the gazes of your father and the King’s fade from view. Jungkook is wearing a white ensemble with a cape which he dirties with the way he’s kicking rocks in his path. He seems burdened that you’re beside him.   “What do you like playing?” he asks.   You’re perplexed on how to answer. You’re not sure how you should play with an actual seven year old. Then again, you like to run away from the maids and swing your sword around on your down time. But that’s just because you like their reactions.   “Sword fighting.”   Jungkook blanches as if he just bit into a lemon. “What kind of girl plays with swords?”   Suddenly, you’re overwhelmed with an urge to kick the royal prince right in his shin.    But as the annoyance floods you, an epiphany comes along with it — if you can’t avoid Jungkook, maybe it’s time to switch strategies. Maybe you can start sowing the seeds of your future survival right here, right now. If one day, he’ll be condemning you of countless crimes and looking down at you as an evil villain, maybe you can turn his perception in the opposite direction.   Harmless. Overbearingly nice. Arrows that practically point ‘I’M NOT A THREAT WHATSOEVER!’.    You’re a genius.   You force the highest pitched giggle you can. “Really?”   Jungkook kicks another rock. “Girls have flimsy arms and trip every time you touch them.”   Ah. The ancient version of: girls have cooties and so you should stay away from them. Alright, alright. You can work with this.   “What do you like playing, Your Highness?”   “Anything that’s not with girls.”   You pause and laugh, hoping it doesn’t sound too stiff.   Jungkook suddenly lifts his head and turns to you with the swivel of his heel. You stop as well and his index finger juts right in your face. “Since I’m the prince, I’ll have mercy on you. We can play servant and king.”   “What’s servant and king?”   “I’m the king.” His thumb pokes himself and then he’s back to pointing right between your eyes again. “You’re the servant. You have to follow me and all my orders or off with your head!”   What a little shit.   How is this going to be any fun for you?!   But you draw an enormous grin on your face, left eye twitching in the process. “Sounds like fun, Your Highness!”   He strolls off. “Let’s go, dumb dumb.”   Your teeth grit and you inhale a deep breath. It hurts your pride to be insulted by a literal seven year old, but you can handle it. When it comes to life or death, you’ll easily befriend the hero.   “Fetch that stick, peasant!”   The prince points at the distance and looks at you expectedly.   Your teeth grit. But you muster a smile and dash forward.   When it comes to life or death, you’ll befriend the hero……….probably.   “Here you go, Your Highness.”   You present the stick to him with both hands and the brat smirks. A rush of air leaves his nose and then he takes the stick. You’re not sure what to expect, but your entire body freezes when he hurls it as far as his arms can go. He points between your brows a second later. “Go get it!”   Motherfucker. “Yes!”    Once Jungkook’s tired of having you fetch like a dog, you trail after him closely. The green hedges are triple your size, acting like corridors of the garden before they open up to certain areas filled with beds of flowers or a fountain. Some paths are unpaved, so you listen to the crunch of rocks underneath his shoes amidst the quiet.    When you’re not out of breath and running at his command, it finally sinks in that it’s the first time you’re with a main character of the game. For the seven years of this lifetime thus far, there was only really you. Your parents were supporting characters at best who just took the opportunity to slyly diss the main heroine a few times at royal gatherings. But other than that, you’re currently facing the backside of someone you know a lot about.   Who he will become. What his future holds. What his desires are.   You pipe up, “Prince Jungkook—”   “That’s Your Highness, peasant!”   You clench your jaw. “Your Highness…”   “What?”   You quicken your steps until you’re beside him and he turns his head. “I’ll support you forever if you want to fall in love with anyone! I don’t care about being the crown princess or the queen!”    For good measure, you flash a wink and a thumbs up.   “What?” His boyish face is twisted up in disgust. “Why would a peasant be a queen?”   You hold in your sigh. “I’m just saying. If we ever get engaged or something, it can always be annulled when we’re older. So feel free to love on, Your Highness. Make love, not war!”   Your words completely fly over Jungkook’s head.   His face reads that he has no clue what you’re talking about.   And he turns away from you. “You’re weird.”   You scoff.    You’re not sure how you can become friendly with a seven year old when you’re internally twenty years older than he is. If you had chocolate on you, you’d use that as a bargaining chip. But clearly, you only have your body, brain and the surroundings at the moment….   What do seven year old boys like?   What do they like?   As you scan your surroundings, your eye catches something in the bushes. You stop and get closer.   At the same time, Jungkook realizes you’re not following him anymore and turns around. “What are you doing, peasa—” His words are cut short by a shrill shriek of absolute terror.   Your brows furrow and you thrust your hand closer to him. “It’s a ladybug.”   The tiny red and black polka dotted bug is crawling in your hand. Jungkook screams again.   He’s stumbling back, nearly tripping onto his butt, doe eyes reflected with complete horror as if you just chopped off his mom’s head. “Get that thing away from me!” his voice cracks up and down two different octaves and realizing his weakness, you grin.   You know your plan was to seem as harmless as possible, but it’s just too much fun teasing him.   “What thing, Your Highness? Your servant is merely showing you a small forest creature.”   “No! Stop!”   He scrambles and starts running away.   You chase after him while giggling manically. “Prince Jungkook! Where are you going!”   “Get the bug away from me!”   He turns over his shoulder with eyeballs nearly falling out of their sockets, face bright red, and you take the opportunity to toss the ladybug at him. Jungkook’s shrieks echo, pitched and earsplitting.   You’re forced to stop with how hard you’re laughing and by then, he’s ran for the hills, completely gone from sight.   Oh god. You can’t believe he’s so scared.    You can’t believe you were so scared — he’s just a kid.   Your giggles taper off as you wander the gardens by yourself. It’s freeing to stroll at your own pace without a brat demanding you to fetch sticks or barking at you to do this and that. It’s a chance to finally admire the surroundings.   You’re sure the first time Anastasia saw the castle, it became her dream home. The place is similar to the aesthetic background graphics of the game and it was always described as beautiful by all the characters. And it really is that way.   But this is also the place of her demise and possibly yours.    You’re sure the only time you’ll be able to enjoy the palace and be this carefree is right now.   You’re admiring the blooming carnations, peony and roses as you turn the corner. The figure standing by the sprouting fountain doesn’t register until after a delayed moment and your eyes lift to see a woman — mysterious in her gray dress. It’s simple attire, but the fabrics are layered on top of one another, light enough that they drape down and flow to the breeze. Her brunette hair is tied into a bun and as if she feels the pressure of your eyes, her bright irises turn towards you.   You realize you’re staring and you blink several times, approaching her politely.    She pulls her charcoal shawl closer to her and smiles. The light wrinkles around her kind eyes crease. “Are you lost, child?”   You shake your head. “No. I’m just looking.”   She crouches down to match your height, gazing at you tenderly. “Where are your parents?”   “My dad’s talking to the King.” You point off in the distance as curiosity eats at you. She doesn’t look like an ordinary worker but not a visitor of the castle either. “I’m Anastasia.”   She searches your expression as if she’s endeared by you. “That’s a beautiful name.”   “Thanks! Who’re you?”   She’s soft-spoken, voice above a quiet murmur, “My name is Erena Robane.”   You frown. The name rings a bell. “Lady Robane?”   “No.” Her laugh tinkles. “I’m no lady.”    Before you can press your mind any further and pick apart your brain at why her name sounds so familiar, she reaches into the small pouch she was carrying and hands you a wrapped piece of candy. “Would you like one?”   Your eyes light up at the pink square. “Yes, please!”    You know better, as an internal twenty seven year old, than to take candy from strangers, but the Duke and Duchess never give you any sweets. So you’ll happily take what you can.   Erena smiles and drops the treat into your outstretched palm.   Not wanting to risk getting it confiscated by Edith, Joan or your mother if you brought it home, you quickly unwrap it and throw it into your mouth. It’s peppermint and it’s pretty damn good.   The woman looks at you patiently, waiting for a reaction, so you give her a thumbs up and a “Yummy!”   She laughs faintly. “Do you like candy?”   “Yep!” You hold out both hands as if you’re trick-or-treating. “Can I have another one, please?”   Might as well seize the chance while you can. It’s a dog-eat-dog world.    “You have very good manners.” She smiles, taking another out of her endless pouch and dropping it in your hand. Oh man, you’re starting to really like this lady. “My son likes chocolate, but I only managed to get candy for today.”   You chew the hard candy in your cheek, crunching down on it. You hope it rots your teeth and makes Edith’s life a living nightmare when she has to deal with it. “Your son?”   Her lips part to speak. But she’s interrupted—   “Mom?”   By sheer coincidence and coincidence itself, a boy with floppy, brown hair turns the corner of the garden. Thin lips, but chubby cheeks and bright eyes of deep mocha. You’ve known him the second your eyes have laid on him. A younger form of the person you fear most.   Taehyung.   You gasp and immediately spin around, hoping he didn’t see you, pretending you didn’t see him.   “I have to go now!”    Before Taehyung’s mom can utter another word, you run away. You don’t notice how Taehyung slows as well, brows furrowed at your receding form.   To see Jungkook is one thing. But to see Taehyung, the one who will use, coerce and lead you to your doom, is another. Jungkook handed down your judgment, but Taehyung is the one who led you there.   He’s the villain.   //   “You did decently,” your mother informs a few days after the whole affair. “We might have to go to the palace more often from now on.”   You nod, unable to dwell in her approval, mind still lost in a daze.    Taehyung — a half prince born a year before Jungkook. He has the blood of a royal with his father as the King, but his mother is merely a palace maid. You remember that he seeks revenge for her death after she’s poisoned by the jealous Queen.   But if she’s still alive, that means it’ll happen soon.   This year.    Springtime.    You’re slowly recalling the details of the event, the catalyst that begins Taehyung’s descent into madness, how he became the game’s villain. But you can’t involve yourself. You just can’t.   You shouldn’t have met any of them in the first place.   You shouldn’t get entangled in their story, in their lives. If you want to live, if you want to survive, you have to avoid Taehyung at all costs. So you can’t. You can’t. Can’t.   A day passes as you focus on your studies.   You can’t.   Another two days goes by, six meals eaten.   Can’t—   On the seventh, your silver spoon clanks noisily against the porcelain bowl, slipping from your grasps, dropping downwards in your deep trance that throbs your temples. Joan turns at the ruckus and you look at her, already standing up.   “I have to go to the castle.”   The guilt eating at you has won its battle.    “Pardon me?”   “Today. Right now.” You rush out of the room and down the hall, determination set in your strides. Maybe you can avoid this. Maybe if you do, he won’t become the game’s villain. Then he won’t be a threat to you, and you won’t be a threat to anyone. You’ll live and so will his mom who’s done nothing wrong.   The maid struggles to catch up to you. “My lady! Please! Wait! What do you mean?”   “I forgot something really important!”   “Y-You can’t just go. My lady! You must ask permission from the Duke and Duchess!”   “There’s no time to.” You’ve never been more serious and somber. There isn’t an inch of mischief, no childish selfishness. Twenty seven years has amounted to this very moment. And you use your status as the Duke’s daughter to command the girl. “Come with me. If the Duke or Duchess gets mad, I’ll take the blame.”   Joan sighs, annoyed as she looks around as if someone else could reason with you. But as you turn to her, looking her dead in the eye, she shifts on her feet and hesitantly calls for a carriage.   You’re in it before you can blink again.   There must be time. There hasn’t been any news yet. No reports of a death in the castle.   You can warn him. You can avoid this tragedy.    “We’re here, my lady,” Joan informs, peering out the window at the enormous stone walls and towers looming high above the clouds. The carriage doors open and she guides you out.    Your feet land onto the cobblestone.    But there isn’t any welcome. No guards that ask what your business here is. No servant passing by.   Instead, there’s chaos in the distance.    Your head whips to the noise and Joan shouts as you dash off towards it. Yet no one notices you in the midst of the pandemonium. No one would pay mind to a small child. You’re left to linger in the open halls, butlers that quickly walk past, maids whispering amongst themselves—   “Did you hear?”   Your head turns towards two girls.   “The King’s mistress just died!”   You came a moment too late.

No one cries.   The arrangement is short and unluxurious, the bare minimum of what would be acceptable for a royal family. A priestess in front drones on impassively about the afterlife, but as you look around, no one grieves. After all, they wouldn’t shed tears for a mere maid.    This is merely a charade to quell away scandalous rumors and to give nobles an excuse to come to the castle and be acknowledged.   You’re overwhelmed in black, a tulle skirt and puffed sleeves. Your parents stand on either side of you, your father in a jacket with the house’s emblem and your mother with a veil covering the right side of her face. Like many others, your family has come for appearance sakes.   But for you, it’s different.   The woman inside the closed casket has shown you a kindness that you so seldom receive.   And because of your hesitation, because of your self-preservation and selfishness, this happened.   Once the burial ceremony is over, your parents mingle amongst the nobles, laughing cordially behind gloved hands as you follow after them and cutesy. It feels like you’re a show pony, brought around to show what the future of the Devereux looks like.   But after a while, you manage to slip away from the scrutiny.    And by sheer coincidence and coincidence only, you find him.   At first it’s the noise of heart wrenching sobs. It’s unrestrained wails and choked hiccups in between that attracts your attention. You twist through the familiar hedge corridors and the moment you turn the corner, your eyes lift to a small figure underneath an oak tree.    He sits alone. He cries to himself.    The boy with floppy, brown hair has his knees pulled together. He incessantly rubs at his eyes as if that alone could stop the tears that well and pour. He cries enough for the tens of people at the funeral, substituting their apathy with his anguish. His entire body wracks and the moment he whimpers “m-mom” in-between, it’s shaking to your core.    This is the beginning. The start of his path of destruction.   In this entire castle that stretches across the horizon, only his mother ever loved him. The half-prince. The Forgotten Prince. The one dirtied by regular red blood, not blue enough for the golden crown.   Taehyung mourns, vision blurred by his grief.   But as he rubs his eyes with his small fists, black shoes appear between the gaps of his hands.   He looks up. Your arm is extended in front of him.    Taehyung looks down to your folded, pink handkerchief. He looks stunned for a moment, as if he’s surprised that there was someone here. That someone actually heard him. That someone came.   He takes your handkerchief and sniffles.   “I’m sorry,” you murmur.    Sorry that she passed away, that he has to endure this, that you didn’t save her when you could’ve.   This isn’t just a game you’re playing anymore. All these people aren’t just characters.   You’re living a new life. And all these people have emotions, desires, thoughts of their own.   You’re not sure how you can comfort Taehyung. What you can say to make it better. “Your mother loved you a lot. I’m sure she wouldn’t want you to be crying so much by yourself.”   He hiccups, snivelling uncontrollably. “B-But if I don’t cry for her, who will?”   You don’t know what to say.   Tears continue to slip down his cheeks and as you linger awkwardly, you decide there isn’t much that you can say. So you sit beside him. You sit underneath the canopy of the tree and branches of rustling leaves, on the soft bed of grass, looking out at the garden.    This is all you can do.   You don’t notice the way Taehyung looks up in-between his mourning, glossy eyes pinpointed on the profile of your face.    The pair of you sit next to one another in the silence of his sniffles until it levels. Until he can breathe again—   “Anastasia!”   There’s a sharp call of your name, one that can only belong to your mother. You immediately come to your feet again as if a dog whistle has been blown. But as you hurry away, you turn over your shoulder. Your eyes connect with Taehyung’s brown ones, and for a moment you slow.   You leave a second later.   You twist down the hedges and turn the corner, nearly bumping straight into her. She looks down at you with her brows furrowed. “Where did you go?”   You smile. “I got lost.”   It’s futile. You know it now.   Trying to avoid the three that will lead you to your demise is like trying to wish you’d suddenly vanish off these lands. You know it won’t be the last time that you see Taehyung. It won’t be the last of Jungkook either. Or whoever the heroine will be. It seems like the more you try to run, the more you inadvertently become involved. But you’ll hold your head up high and face whatever is to come head on.

#bts fanfic #bts scenario #jungkook fanfic #taehyung fanfic #jungkook scenario #taehyung scenario #jungkook fluff #taehyung fluff #BUT WHO'S GONNA BE THE ENDGAME GUY HMMMM?

[dinomintz]

Cunningfam Headcanons

for ref, this is about my ocs

Randy was adopted! He's biracial: Asian (Japanese)/White. idk what happened to his bio parents but who cares lol

Randy learned how to play the piano (and then he later learned keytar on his own) from Joan when he was little. Joan also plays other percussion instruments.

Randy's only really met Anne's side of the family (excluding Joan's father). Joan's family is from Vermont. In fact, Randy hasn't been out of state.

Joan's not on good terms with her mom, dad, or step-dad, but she does speak with her 3 siblings still. Her dad's still in Vermont, while her mom + step-dad moved somewhere else in the state. Her siblings moved away from Norrissville when they could and refuse to visit them <3

I feel like the two of them have had serious talks about whether or not to raise Randy in Norrissville. They're were certainly some close calls when he was younger, but the topics come up again now that he's in high school.

Anne literally cries/celebrates all of her son's achievements. It's a mix of being so happy for him/wanting to embarrass him. She has also showed Howard all of Randy's baby photos

Anne's biffer is Mort. She absolutely made it her duty to set him up with Mrs. Weinerman when they were all in high school. Joan's not as close with the Weinerman's but she will be polite with them.

Anne absolutely adores both Weinerman kids! She lets them stay over whenever bc she wants to be the cool parent. Joan's okay with Howard? It's more like she just accepted he's never gonna be out of Randy and, by extension, her life. She likes Heidi more and used to pay her to babysit Randy.

#my oc tag #rc9gn #randy cunningham #cunningfam #long post

[hekate1308]

Fictober 2021, #25

Prompt: “Do you know what time it is?”

Fandom: Endeavour

Pairing: Morse/Joan

Warnings: N/A

Full disclosure: I have no idea if this makes sense to anyone who has not read Unless The Giddy Heavens Fall, but I’ve wanted for a long time to expand the universe a bit, and Baby Joan and Morse getting into hijinks and falling in love is too precious to pass up on, especially with magic involved ;P.

Joan had rather grown used to sneaking out over the last two years; she would always claim that that wasn’t her fault, though – she had to, if she wanted to learn how to use her powers responsibly, and anyway, as Aunt Reenie had told her, until Dad realized that some things were just a part of nature, or at least until she was twenty-one and could do whatever she wanted, she would have to be careful.

And so, she’d used a hex bag about eleven thirty pm, once everybody had been in bed and asleep (almost, anyway; Sammy loved watching her use her powers, so he’d stayed awake to watch her leave, although she’d made him promise to get some rest afterwards) and was now walking back home when she came across a certain vampire.

Now, she’d known Dev for over a year now, and she was ready to admit that he was a close friend of hers. Still wasn’t sure of his occasional use of her family nickname of Joanie, but she supposed there were a few things a vampire who worked for the Guard and was a little too full of himself would do when it came to a young girl (not that she admitted to being such often. She was a witch, and she was rather proud of it).

And so, she was not surprised when, upon walking home, she heard exactly the vampire she had been dwelling on exclaim, “Joanie!”

She tried her best to ignore him – it was just gone two, and she should be getting some sleep after all – but then he grabbed her elbow. “Thank the gods you’re here.”

Despite everything, she felt rather flattered. “Do you know what time it is?”

“About two am, isn’t it? Whatever, I need a witch, and you’re just the woman for the job.”

The annoying tingling feeling in her belly that had started up the second he had touched her grew worse. Now, she told herself, it was ridiculous, of course. They were friends, and that was all they would ever be. She was just being a bit silly because he was a handsome young man, as Mum would have called him.

Still, couldn’t hurt to be on the good side of a young Guard member, so she asked, “What’s the matter?”

“It’s October”.

“I know” she sighed. The barrier between the worlds, as she had learned very soon after the Veil had gone down for her on her fifteenth birthday, grew very thin at this time of the year, and the gods help anyone who decided to try and play around with certain rules. There are things that simply were not meant to be used, no matter how much power one happened to have.

“It’s…” and suddenly, Endeavour looked troubled and she felt scared. “I think that… someone nearby has been talking to – trying to, anyway – their deceased loved ones.”

“A seance? But that’s forbidden –“

“For so many reasons, I know. But that doesn’t keep people from trying.”

“SO what do you need me to do?”

He swallowed, then looked at her with eyes that were much older than his face. “I – I’m a vampire. There are things we feel… certain possibilities – it’s hard to explain, but when I entered this quarter, I just knew what was going on. But that doesn’t mean I can stop it on my own. If someone is trying to open a door of some kind, I need someone with magical abilities to close it.”

“I –“ She could have refused, of course. She was far from done with her education, and she had not decided yet whether she wanted to join the Guard or not (a lie, really. Of course she had decided). “You know you can count on me. Might need your help with the specifics, though.”

He grinned at her. “Thanks, Joanie.” He touched her elbow. “This way.” After a moment of hesitation, he added, “You know I’ll keep you safe, don’t you?”

And she grinned like the way she had when he’d first shown her how to drive. “Of course.”

  Two hours later, they were sitting in Lady Moran’s office – looking rather dishevelled.

“Mr. Morse, Miss Thursday” she sighed, sitting down in front of them. “The one reason we’re not holding you responsible for Mr. Glen’s house burning down is because the Council is grateful that the door was closed before anything worse could happen.”

“We had to act, milady” Dev tried.

She shook her head. “Yes, but you could have gone to a more… experienced magic user for help.”

“Came across Joan, and I know she’s good.”

She felt a glow of pride swell in her chest.

Lady Moran shook her head. “The gods know you two will get up to. Just make sure Miss Thursday gets home alright. Without any further interruptions.”

“That went well” he told her as they walked to the Jaguar he’d borrowed from the Guard.

“She could have been more thankful.”

He shrugged. “That’s Lady Moran for you. Now, buy you a milkshake?”

“What, before bringing me home?”

“Don’t ever say that I don’t know how to treat a young lady.”

And she laughed, happy and carefree, because what else was there to do?

#fictober21 #my writings #endeavour #british detectives #morse x joan #endeavour morse #joan thursday