#Helen Scales

[bookjotter6865]

Winding Up the Week #387

An end of week recap “One of the signs of passing youth is the birth of a sense of fellowship with other human beings as we take our place among them.” – Virginia Woolf I will be celebrating my birthday on Tuesday and my partner is filling our home to bursting with a variety of friends and relatives along with their bags and doggy chums. Not that our house could conceivably be described as…

[hoerbahnblog]

Zeichen & Zeiten: Helen Scales – In 80 Meerestieren um die Welt– eine Rezension von Constanze Matthes

Zeichen & Zeiten: Helen Scales – In 80 Meerestieren um die Welt– eine Rezension von Constanze Matthes (Hördauer 08 Minuten) https://literaturradiohoerbahn.com/wp-content/uploads/2023/07/Zeichen-u-Zeiten-In-89-Tagen-upload-.mp3 Das Meer – gefühlt unendliche Weiten. Wir schreiben das Jahr 2023 und begeben uns auf eine unglaubliche Reise. Eine Tour um die Welt in 80 Tagen – unter Wasser. Wir…

[krautjunker]

In 80 Meerestieren um die Welt

Buchvorstellung Nach In 80 Bäumen um die Welt, In 80 Pflanzen um die Welt und In 80 Vögeln um die Welt erschien nun In 80 Meerestieren um die Welt. Wie bei den Vorgängerbänden handelt es sich um eine uneingeschränkt empfehlenswerte Sammlung von Kurzporträts faszinierender Arten. Mehr als 90 Prozent der Biosphäre unserer Welt – dem Raum, in dem Leben wohnt – sind Ozeane. Es ist ein Kosmos voller…

[helenapsent]

What's that trend of yours called...

Fine, I'll call it a "progression scale" or "years of work" I used to draw in my desk every freaking day, but then 21 started and….. the bird's tired, the bird's burned out in college, so-- -now burn out at work, but still drawing (not in a desk)0)) )

[wishesofeternity]

“The gender system in which Margaret (of Anjou) lived theoretically denied that a woman could ever hold political authority. At the same time, however, it permitted and even encouraged women to act in ways that had political consequences; this was most true for the queen. This uneasy duality made transgression possible and even provided Margaret with a loyal following, while it demanded that she continue to present herself as no more than the king’s wife and intermediary to his subjects. By invoking the king’s authority, or the latent authority of her young son, Prince Edward, Margaret was able to exercise considerable power. It was power, nonetheless, that had to be constantly renegotiated and reaffirmed by further appeals to and displays of male authority. Thus, this exercise involved a pretense, while the need to maintain the pretense automatically limited its reach.”

Helen Maurer, “Margaret of Anjou: Queenship and Power in Late Medieval England” / “Margaret of Anjou and the Loveday of 1458: A Reconsideration” in “Traditions and Transformations in Late Medieval England”

“Although late medieval queenship provided access to power, it did not give the queen institutionally recognized authority. Operating from a position outside the formal government, her political influence was presumed to lie in her acts of mediation or intercession, at all times subsumed by her husband's authority. In fact, her role, though unofficial, complemented his. When the king was expected to be strong and wise and stern, it was helpful to have a balancing influence that allowed him to bend without appearing weak, to change his mind without looking foolish, and to moderate harshness without forfeiting credibility. The queen 's intercession allowed him to do these things while confirming his authority through her own subordination as appellant. For the queen, of course, such acts strengthened impressions of her own influence, as someone who could be approached for favour with the hope and expectation that her favour would bring results.

... The nature of the queen's accepted role, which was both limiting and empowering, has a bearing on Margaret's broader exercise of power in the later 1450s. In early 1454, during Henry's illness, her bid for a formally recognized regency failed. Thereafter, when she again reached for power at the end of the second protectorate, she did so through traditional means. For the remainder of the reign she continued to represent herself as subordinate and adjunct while asserting the king's-and sometimes her son's-authority. But, in fact, she wielded increased power herself. It is difficult to say to what extent this amounted to a deliberately thought out policy on her part, but it was a natural one, for it built on understood relationships and, superficially at least, appeared not to violate the accepted order.

Three examples demonstrate how this worked. In autumn of 1456, some months after the duke of York's second protectorate ended, court and king moved from London to Coventry at Margaret's instigation, and the chief officers of state were replaced by persons whose loyalty carried no Yorkist taint. One of the new officers was the queen's chancellor, Lawrence Booth, who became keeper of the privy seal, thus giving Margaret access to what R.L. Storey called "the mainspring of all government action". Although John Watts has found a single instance when Margaret and Booth were apparently sealing writs in the king's absence, this is not an accurate measure of her power, which remained informal rather than institutional. Around the same time as Booth's appointment, Margaret' s grand reception into Coventry was a highly gendered production that praised her, foremost, for her motherhood. Secondary references to Henry as her liege lord explicitly underlined her subordinate role as wife. Even the appearance of a dragon-slaying namesake St. Margaret in the last pageant, which might seem to be a nod towards a kind of masculine agency, avoided anomaly by turning out to be strictly an intercessor on the queen's behalf.

Margaret's influence over the prince's council also constituted an expansion of her power to govern, although the formal representation of her role is similarly opaque. The patent creating the council refers to its mem bers as "the most honorable, excellent, diligent and experienced men" - the word used is "viros" - which becomes more evocative once it is announced that they are to act "with the approval and agreement of ... the queen". " What this amounted to was the insertion of Margaret's influence, by the king's authorization, into the normal functioning of an otherwise normal institution. Her role was noted in subsequent council warrants issued in the prince's name with the advice of the council and the assent of his mother the queen.

The formula is significant: the prince's name provided authorization and legitimacy for whatever was done, although his actual participation was fictive since he was only 3 or 4 years old. In practice, the council's deliberations together with the queen 's assent made the relevant decisions. Yet there is a second fictive layer, contained in the nature of the documents themselves. Although the queen's assent appears to be nominal only - a form of rubber-stamping - it should be noted that the power to assent can become the power to deny, and that both together can amount to the power to initiate or to give direction. From a commonsense point of view, the extent of Margaret's power seems obvious. Nevertheless, in its formal representation it appears as if at one remove, its edges and its impact blurred by the more conventional phrases in which it is embedded.

As a last example, a pair of letters written by the king and queen in 1457 in support of John Hals for the deanery of Exeter explicitly reveal the way that Margaret's power worked. There must have been some foot-dragging, for on 31 October the king wrote to the chapter to remind them of his recommendation, "wherein we trust for certain that you have done and will do your part ... to the accomplishment of our desire", and to assure them that his will was "immutable". It was, on the whole, a mild letter." Margaret's letter, written a week later, was not. Expressing surprise and dismay that the king's wishes could be disregarded, she exhorted the chapter to "be inclined and yield to the accomplishment of my lord's invariable intention and ours in this matter" in order to remain within the king's, and her, good grace." Although Margaret's power was then waxing, Henry never once mentioned her or that this was a joint recommendation. But, then, he was the king. By contrast, Margaret referred to him repeatedly, being careful to associate her wishes with his and to present her case in a manner that mad e her indignation and stern words no more than the supporters of his rights and intentions. These letters show how Margaret's power depended upon her invoking the king's authority, but they also hint at a shift in their relationship, with Margaret appearing as the more active party.

Margaret's activities, however well masked, did attract some attention. Thomas Gascoigne, twice chancellor of Oxford and an assiduous compiler of notes about things that irked him, complained, probably in 1457 when Margaret's power had become more evident, that the queen ruled so that everything was done, for better or worse, according to her will. Gascoigne favoured the Yorkists and already bore a grudge against the queen for coming to England without a proper dowry and for the loss of Maine and Anjou. The point of this complaint, however, seems to be simply that she had taken an inappropriately active role.

This theme appears again in the gossipy-and treasonous-remarks of one Robert Burnet, who was indicted in November 1457. Specifically, Burnet criticized the queen for waging men to go overseas (presumably to fight) and Henry for losing France and for sleeping too much since St. Albans. There is no evidence that Margaret was raising troops to go overseas or anywhere else at this time, and no one knows where Burnet got his information about Henry's sleeping habits. But these allegations need not be literally true, to illustrate a perceived imbalance in the activities of the king and queen, with the queen doing what the king should have done while the king failed to live up to expectations of his role. Thus, it appears that while Margaret continued to represent herself as intermediary and subordinate to Henry, an informal and unplanned role reversal had been taking place. Although it was occasionally noted and criticized, it could never openly declare itself and, hence, could never be complete.

[mashbrainrot]

among many strange and immature things i see on here, the idea that 'gay' means homosexual only - not bisexual or any other sexuality... wild to me.

[thentherewasfury]

Ok so you know that post that’s like “if one Helen can launch a thousand ships, that means a mili-Helen launches a rowboat”?

Where on the Helen scale is convincing a guy to quit his pool team and join your team… that plays on the same night against his former team.

[letterboxd-loggd]

Hobson’s Choice (1954) David Lean

December 27th 2022

[troyandabedsnewapartment]

YOURS, JUST THE WORD AND I WILL BE THERE.

1. letters to felice, frank kafka | 2. strangers, ethel cain | 3. overture (1992), helen frankenthaler | 4. desperation sits heavy on my tongue, a.m | 5. against the loveless world: a novel, susan abulhawa | 6. a green thought in a green scale (1981), helen frankenthaler | 7. wife, mitski | 8. ruth 1:16 | 9. lush spring (1975), helen frankenthaler | 10. no exit, jean-paul sartre

[bgezal]

random but anyone got book recommendations

[mrsoftthoughts]

We need to discuss all the implications of being a pregnant mortal in the Riordanverse when the baby you're carryingn is a greecoroman demigod

Because you can't look me dead in the eyes and tell me that that thing would be a normal pregnancy down any standards

I mean, there's a good chance that this it's only Rick forgetting about the math once again, but Sally's pregnancy should haven been either 3 months or between 11-14 months, and i feel like baby Percy would have wanted to stay there the longest possible because idk, just being comfy in his momma belly full of liquid

And i don't even want to think about being esperanza Valdez with a fetus capable of fuckin combust at any moment, beryl grace getting electroshocks everytime that Thalia kicked or anything that could happen with Maria di Angelo and her Two kids of the lord of the death

And Also exist the possibility that the mortal body isn't taking well having a interspecies fetus that maybe has a chance to act like ambrosia or nectar making that you feel like if you were burning from your insides because way too much Divinity too handle

And there's more

A Demigod can be born troug a C-section without the Doctors seeing something that a mortal definitely shouldn't? Who knows how a Demigod looks when they still in the uterus, there's even a chance of them having a minor scale "real" form as their parents, a now the doctor is fuckin blind

And how many times some of the mortal parents being really freaked out about this and knowing that they can't keep the baby have tried to get an abortion, in the best case it would work and now everything is ok..... But you can even abort a Demigod?? At least trough mortal methods, because i feel like there's a pretty big chance of this doesn't working

There's also a chance of this doesn't looking like a pregnancy at all, being honest this born from my headcanon of the Apollo kids gestations being unnoticeable ( since that apollos reaction towards sally pregnancy was really weird) and that i already mentioned in a previos post , but what if there's also the chance of you being completely oblivious towards this and then BOOM !! Baby

And then we have that the possibilities are low but never zero for a "pregnancy" like the ones of Castor and Pollux and Helen and Clytemnestra happening nowadays

And ofc... That we shouldn't look away for the possibilities of Mpreg with mortals being the ones carrying the baby, the limit with weird things here is inexistent to this point ( I'm not talking about Darren Knowles here btw, unless that you pull out the trans!Darren headcanon it's obvious that the one that give birth to kayla was Apollo, not for being a god, but because this man is such a bottom)

As a summary: Don't get pregnant from a god, theres a chance of it being terrifying

[gallusrostromegalus]

Who wants to help me ID some rocks?

So one of the cool things that got left at the new house is the former owner's rock and fossil collection, which they meticulously catalogued by which I mean they left them out under some junipers in the back yard. The power is out, so I'm spraying some of the dirt and leaves off with the hose, but if anyone has guesses I'd love to hear them.

1. The Big Fucker:

(10 in screwdriver for scale)

First clue that there was a secret collection, this was the only one really visible. Pale translucent blue-green cubic crystals and skinny, more opaque/white ones on top of a heavy dull white rock. Pretty, whatever she is.

2. Salt n Peppa

Pretty sure the black stuff is smoky quartz, but what are the white cubes and the red rock it's on?

3. Sparkly Bois:

Two of these- I think the little cubes are pyrite, but what's the dark, shiny/metallic stuff? Very heavy for their size.

4. Assorted Dead Things!

Fossil clams and a coral I think, but if anyone knows anything more specific I'd love to hear it. Pretty sure most of these things are from the Rockies/front range area but genuinely, I don't know where they got them.

5. IDK what she is, but her name is Helen:

Like a bunch of criss-crossing wafers. Not very heavy for her size.

6. Green Stuff:

What are the green crystals coming out of this rock? They're cool, whatever they are.

7. Miscellaneous Shinies:

Assorted small rocks I found while digging. Small dead clam, I think some of that is mica, and I'm really curious about the shiny stuff on the granite (?).

Part 1/2, gonna hose some more rocks while y'all speculate.

[specialagentartemis]

ngl I think it’s fun how little internal sense the chronology of the Trojan War makes. Eris threw the Apple of Discord at the wedding of Thetis and Peleus, which is what prompted Athena, Aphrodite, and Hera to demand the Judgement of Paris, and Aphrodite promised Paris the love of the most beautiful women in the world, who was Helen, who was already married, which is what started the Trojan War. But Achilles, son of Thetis and Peleus, was one of Helen’s suitors who swore the oath to defend her. And when the Trojan War was beginning (was threatening to begin?), Thetis hid Achilles among the women of Skyros, where he and Deidamia had a son, Pyrrhus/Neoptolemus. But when Achilles died in the ninth year of the Trojan War, Neoptolemus was old enough to fight in it. These things happen at mythic scales under mythic logic, it doesn’t really hang together, you just gotta go with it

[1000cavalry]

Odysseus of Troy au

A friend of mine misspoke and said ‘Odysseus of Troy’ instead of ‘Ithaca’. 

And thus, this au was born:

What if Paris had chosen Athena in the Goddess’s beauty contest to receive her offer of wisdom and battle tactics?

Instead of giving these qualities to him directly she has him kidnap Odysseus as an advisor.

Who would go:

Penelope would organise for the forces of Ithaca to travel to Troy under Eurylochus to retrieve her husband. I also imagine that Agamemnon and Menelaus would bring some forces as a favour to Penelope (they have family connections to her through Clytemnestra and Helen). Achilles and the myrmidons might still show up for glory, despite not having personal stakes. Overall there are way fewer people going to Troy as Odysseus is not Helen. 

The gods’ favour:

Assuming the Trojans refuse to hand Odysseus over in diplomatic talks, they go to war. 

Athena favours the Trojans in this version. Hera favours the Greeks. Aphrodite really wants Paris dead so generally supports the Greek warriors but she doesn’t hate all the Trojans and still protects her son Aeneas. The other Gods fill pretty much the same roles.

Odysseus’ experience:

In this version of the Iliad, Odysseus would make several escape attempts throughout the story but would be thwarted by Athena and the Trojans. 

Odysseus would also be uncooperative in supplying the Trojans with strategies. They consider just handing him over but fear going against Athena’s will and losing her favour. There would be an interaction between Odysseus and Athena similar to the moment in book 3 when Aphrodite threatens Helen.

The war’s end:

The war would probably end diplomatically as ,after a time, it becomes increasingly pointless for all involved. Odysseus would be of no use to the Trojans while being uncooperative. Priam, feeling guilty about keeping a father from his wife and son, would decide to return him. Paris would put up less of a fuss about losing a prisoner than a bride.

Athena out of spite at the outcome would guide some Greeks into Troy to steal some prizes. It would not be a full scale sacking of Troy due to having fewer troops, but it would satisfy them to be happy to return home. 

If anyone has any ideas they’d like to add I’d love to see them

[finitevariety]

"Logan Charles Roy was a legendary news proprietor, a media visionary, a brilliant businessman, a job creator and, above all, a loving family man. For over 60 years, he presided over the company he founded, Waystar Royco, the largest family-owned media conglomerate in the United States.

Logan's childhood was marked by adversity. Born in Dundee, Scotland, on the eve of World War 2, his father died shortly after his birth. A few years later his mother, Helen Roy, sent Logan and his older brother Ewan to Canada to escape. They were never to see their mother again, and their sister Rose also died as a young child. Both Logan and Ewan were raised in rural Quebec by relatives.

Though academically gifted, Logan left school at the age of 13. After a brief period working as a store clerk, Logan inherited his Uncle Noah's small advertising billboard company along with his brother Ewan. Over the next decade they grew their small businesses into the largest billboard companies in Canada. From there, the brothers' diverging interests saw Logan take control of the company.

Logan moved to the United States in 1972, determined to diversify Waystar Royco by moving into media. He quickly acquired several declining newspapers, such as the New York Globe, working his magic to dramatically turn these around and [elevate?] them to their former glory.

Logan firmly established himself as one of the country's most important media moguls with the launch of ATN, American Television News, in 198[1?/4?]. Now widely regarded as the nation's most [?respected] news source and a [?format admired] around the world, ATN changed the American media landscape overnight. Since its launch, ATN has, in the service of public interest, provided a [??] breed of television ...

[STEWY FINGER INTERLUDE 👀 ]

... several American Presidents ... necessary, a strident defender of the ... American people against threats both [[?? and ??].

Though Logan scaled such lofty heights [??presumably 'in his'] public life, he remained a humble individual, prioritizing his work, his family, and his [??]. He is survived by his wife Marcia and his children, Connor, Kendall, Siobhan and Roman Roy."

[lovelyyandereaddictionpoint]

Persistent | Yandere Asmodeus

You heard the whispers of a beautiful creature. One of the seven avatars known across the seas for their popularity in beauty, in the arts, in the general gene pool.  It was just another spec of knowledge you heard when doing your job. The biggest customers were quite talkative. 

“(Y/n)...did you finish that remedy of yours?”

You gave your mentor a nod, letting suspended gravity carry the bottled vial from your mini cavern into the waiting tentacle of your mentor. Her orange-red tentacle wrapped around it with ease, swiftly putting her labeling and signature on it before shoving it into a crate. 

She sighed, running her tentacles over the dozens of crates in a final count. She gave a satisfied hum before looping her eight tentacles into the various slots. You smiled to yourself—another successful batch. 

Retreating into your cavern you curled into yourself prepared to sleep until the next time Helene would wake you. It would be time to eat then.

It was like any other day.

“---keep it all to yourself! You have to tell me!” 

“--share with you?! Please! I should kill you for eve–”

You awoke to voices instead of the sounds of a crab being roasted on the fire coals. It was Helene yelling at a man, a customer maybe? It was a smooth highpitched voice cutely whining about something. 

It was kind of…irritating.

You didn’t want to bother uncurling yourself, somehow still lulled to sleep by the intensified yelling; mostly coming from Helene. Falling asleep you dreamed of tiny tasty slivers of crab to eat while Helene patted your head. 

It wasn’t a bother to you.

______________________________________________________________

“Oh my look at you! What’s your name?”

It was that voice, again. One you could barely place. 

It was hazy with your schedule of work-sleep-eat (maybe). Your hectic schedule made half-asleep experiences far from your top priority. This is why you slowly blinked at him before wrapping yourself in your tentacles. Ready to sleep again. 

It didn’t bother you until he did. 

A soft and manicured hand unabashedly grabbed a tentacle of yours slowly unraveling you’re protective spiral to pull you out of your cavern. You used your remaining tentacles to try and keep you inside only to be proved far too weak in the hands of the sea’s mighty avatar. 

He pulled you into the bioluminescent grotto, leaving you in the open. You shrunk into yourself prepared to ink the perpetrator and dart into one of the many craters of the grotto. You’re three hearts were beating a mile a minute. Where was Helene? Why wasn’t she here? Why was the shelf a mess? Her cauldron knocked over? Anxiety was gripping you harder than an oyster's maw. 

The beautiful merman on the other hand was none the wiser. Smiling as he playfully flicked his hot pink and orange fins. His tail was large and wavy; a dramatic flair that wasn’t helping you in any regard. He folded his hand behind him as he leaned closer to you, swimming closer as you curled away. 

“Hey! Why are you trying to hide? Are you surprised someone like myself just appeared?”

He posed flashing his scales and fanning his fins out. It did nothing for you, to see him this way. In fact, it made you all the more uncomfortable. You were getting closer to inking yourself relenting to somewhere- anywhere to hide. 

“H-hey, where are you going?” 

To the tipped cauldron. Curling as tightly as you could in hopes of limiting at least a little bit of your fear. It made the merman pout following you to the cauldron planning to use the same tactic as before

“Are you re-Aghagahaaaahh! What is that!?”

Cringing at the sticky and suffocating grasp of the ink. He jerked away, twisting his tail as if to relieve himself of the feeling. You curled into yourself only trying to facilitate your breath as the merman continued to howl about the ink and ‘his poor perfect skin.’ 

Soon all of it went to fade. Your tiredness, his crying, your fear. Once again you fell asleep. 

It was Helene who would awake you, having returned home to find your cavern empty, the grotto a mess, and a sorrowful wisp of ink leading into her tipped over cauldron. She knew what had happened and nothing more needed to be said as she joined you wrapping you in her strong tentacles. There was something soothing about her muscles lightly squeezing around you, as she whispered curses of the avater.

“That cursed merman! On my life, Asmodeus will pay for what he’s done! Believe it!” 

It didn’t mean much to you, her cursing that merman. It was a name she cursed often. But that must mean that the one who was here must be him. 

Asmodeus, huh.

You’re…pretty sure you don’t like him.

_________________________________________________

The next time he reaches for you, you bite him. You curled your outstretched tentacle back into yourself as he wailed again. It wasn’t as loud as before when you inked him but his arm was no longer in your cavern. 

“Hey you bit me! Bad octopus!” 

He stuck his tongue out at you before swiftly swimming away nursing his hand. That didn’t make him leave though. Instead the clinking of bottles and canisters persisted with nonchalant humming. 

This Asmodeus was looking for something.

“Aww not here! Geez Helene where would you put it.” 

You stayed in your cavern not even bothering to peek your head out to see. You could already imagine. Sleep was far away, your skepticism wouldn’t allow you to not when Asmodeus rifling through Helen’s products. 

Then there was silence. 

Did he leave? Did he find what he was looking for? 

“Maybe you know?” 

How didn’t you hear him? In a matter of seconds he swam from the bottom of the grotto to the entrance of your cavern, tilting his head and narrowing his eyes. It was alarming. 

“Aww are you ignoring me again? That’s no good!” 

He puffed his cheeks for a moment, his expression changing to one of determination as he reached somewhere outside your cavern’s opening. He was clutching an empty but familiar viall with Helene’s signature label on it. 

“Come on! Won’t you tell me where I can find her batch for this? Come on! You can tell me!”

With his prodding came him pushing the empty glass into your cavern, careful to hold it by its opening–his fingers far from you. You let the glass touch you, flinching when he persists. You continue to curl away, not engaging was how you’d succeed. 

���Hey don’t ignore me!”

He continued to poke you with the bottom side of the bottle, whining consistently about the product he was looking for. Somewhere along the way you found yourself fighting sleep. Though you were sure he didn’t notice, you once again curled your tentacles around yourself for sleep.

“--cute!” 

________________________________________

“Coral-cutie!? Where are you hiding today? Are you mad about the pearl necklace last time?”

You were hiding from Asmodeus in one of the many crevices of the grotto, hardly bothering to sneer at the visible destruction of Helene’s work space. It was probably more disturbing that this had become a routine. He’d wreck her workstation sighing about what he couldn’t find and spend the rest of the day pestering you. Somehow the latter was what he spent most of his time doing here. Like clockwork Helene would return and curse his name before continuing to churn out another batch of her famous concoction. 

Now your days spent sleeping were filled with attempts to escape the avatar of the sea. Who insisted on doing all sorts of silly routines and dressing you in whatever trend he was ranting about now. It was exhausting at first but now you were used to it. 

“Ah! There you are! Trying to hide from me, you silly octopus!”

For the most part. 

You sat still in his lap as he reclined on Helene’s cauldron, turned on its head and its contents floating aimlessly. His fingertips danced along your suction cups, taking the time to explore their shape as if he hadn’t done it a thousand times before. 

“I never noticed before but you secrete a kind of mucus don’t you?”

Offended you retract your tentacles from his grasp, he put his hands up in defense. 

“It’s not a bad thing. In fact,” He paused easily peeling the limb from your body to his lips, delicately rubbing his lips against it. “It’s a lovely thing.”

You didn’t pull away. You only looked away from him as he went back to his usual playful.mannerisms. Easily letting your embarrassment fade to listlessness as though it were never there. You let your eyes roll to the back of your head with thoughts of whatever concoction of crab Helene would cook up. 

“--mine! Why can’t you just leave-”

“--I’ve already decided. I know all about–”

You woke again to the sounds of bickering done by none other than Helene and Asmodeus. Comforted by the walls of your cavern you realize you’d been moved from your spot in the merman’s lap. 

You weren’t complaining. 

It just meant that before this argument occurred you were returned to your favorite place. An oddly selfless action for the avatar who so usually was focused on himself. No matter. 

It was another altercation. A fight they’d usually have. 

Thus it was time to go back to sleep. 

“I’m not letting you have them!”

“Good thing I wasn’t asking.”

______________________________________________________

You awoke to the bobbing of a mer’s movements. Your head pressed against the chest of a merman who was unusually bare. No necklaces or diamonds to poke you as muscular arms tightly held you in place. 

Where was this? 

“Ah look at you! You’re awake! You sleep so much I never know when you’ll wake up.”

This wasn’t the grotto.

“You probably have never been up this high, always stuck in the dark.” He sneered, “That’s such a Helene thing to do.” 

Helene, where was she?

“It might take some getting used to, all this light.”

Where is she?

“But you can do it I believe in you!”

He squeezed in emphasis. Registering the light blue vastness of the world around you, you didn’t have enough freedom to look everywhere though. Unable to maneuver your head to look at Asmodeus’ face directly only getting a view of his well-sculpted neck and Adams's apple barely bobbing as he cooed.

What was that?

“What? Are you looking at those marks? No worries little suction cups don’t hurt that much even when they have fangs.”

You were hungry. Where was Helene?

“I bet you’ll love what I have for you, back home. Hermits, oysters, shrimp! You’ll adore it!”

Helene.

“Ah see we’re coming up on it now.”

Helene.

“So squirmy! But we’ve done this before! Don’t you know i always win?”

Helene. 

“Oh right.” 

He stopped his swimming, threading his fingers through your tentacles as he flipped you around. Looking straight on at the beauteous avatar of the sea’s face. Smooth with not a single blemish his rosy lips were gleaming a toothy smile.

“We’re never going back to that place again.

A toothy smile with shreds of golden hair, bloodied scraps, and the remnant of mucous membrane. All gone with a swipe of an elongated tongue swiping over his teeth clearing the way for a sea-swooning smile. 

“You’ll probably never want crab again.”