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thecreaturecodex · 2 years

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Arkan Sonney

Image © Traci Shepherd, accessed at Arcane Beasts and Critters here

[A Manx fairy creature, the arkan sonney was originally described as a white pig, but the name is used to refer to hedgehogs in the modern day, which is cute. It’s said to be good luck to see one, namely that you’ll always have a silver coin on hand if you do, which inspired their boon, bane and general connection to silver in the flavor text. I could see a 1st level module centered around finding one of these guys and convincing it to help the party fight a werewolf plaguing the community.]

Arkan Sonney CR ½ NG Fey This tiny creature appears to be a white hedgehog with butterfly wings and tiny hoofed digits. It flitters about playfully, its spines glinting with silver.

An arkan sonney is a benevolent fey creature with aspects of hedgehogs and pigs. They live in hedgerows and hills, and feed primarily on poisonous plants and venomous animals. A lack of toads, vipers and spiders may be the only sign of an arkan sonney’s presence, as they are shy of humans and try to remain hidden. They may allow themselves to be sought out by children or kind souls, and play games with them such as hide-and-seek.

The reason an arkan sonney is so nervous around humans has much to do with its ties to silver. Silver infuses their quills and drips from their saliva, and killing and burning an arkan sonney will yield fully half of its weight in silver. Most arkan sonneys are between ten and twenty pounds as an adult. This is something of killing a golden goose, however, as an arkan sonney can silver weapons while alive (useful for fighting lycanthropes and devils) and give a blessing of silver to those it favors.

Arkan Sonney Boons and Banes (CL 2nd, DC 12) An arkan sonney is a kind soul, and may reward a child or someone in poverty with a blessing of endless silver, on the condition that they keep it a secret and do good deeds. If someone tries to force them to give this blessing, they give their bane instead. Boon: You gain a single silver piece every day. This silver piece appears in a shoe, pocket, purse, or other item kept on your possession or nearby every midnight. This boon is permanent, unless the creature gains an evil alignment, in which case it ceases. Bane: One gold coin in your possession turns into a silver piece every day. This coin must be in your pocket, purse, or otherwise in your direct possession or immediate belongings, and the transformation occurs at midnight. This bane is permanent until removed.

Arkan Sonney CR ½ XP 200 NG Tiny fey Init +1; Senses low-light vision, Perception +4 Defense AC 14, touch 13, flat-footed 13 (+2 size, +1 Dex, +1 natural) hp 7 (2d6) Fort +0, Ref +4, Will +3 DR 2/cold iron; Immune poison Defensive Abilities prickly Offense Speed 20 ft., fly 40 ft. (good) Melee bite +1 (1d2-4) Space 1 ft.; Reach 0 ft. Special Attacks silver coating Spell-like Abilities CL 2nd, concentration +3 3/day—dancing lights, daze (DC 11), detect poison 1/day—faerie fire, magic missile, vanish Statistics Str 3, Dex 13, Con 10, Int 11, Wis 10, Cha 12 Base Atk +1; CMB +0; CMD 6 (10 vs. trip) Feats Stealthy Skills Acrobatics +5 (-1 when jumping), Bluff +6, Diplomacy +6, Escape Artist +8, Fly +13, Knowledge (nature) +5, Perception +4, Stealth +15 Languages Common, Sylvan Ecology Environment cold and temperate hills Organization solitary, pair or array (3-6) Treasure special (see above) Special Abilities Prickles (Ex) A creature attempting to grapple, or successfully grappling, an arkan sonney takes 1 point of piercing damage a round. Silver Coating (Su) An arkan sonney’s natural weapons, including its prickles, overcome damage reduction as if they were silver, and deal an extra 1d6 points of damage to creatures with DR/silver. Three times a day as a standard action, an arkan sonney may touch a single melee weapon or twenty pieces of ammunition and allow them to overcome DR/silver for 1 hour.

#arkan sonney #manx folklore #fey #hedgehog #cute #pathfinder 1e #world tour

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qqueenofhades · 2 years

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Hi, I’ve been wanting to ask this for ages. Do you have any good book recs for queer history pre-20th century? I don’t have much of a preference on whether they’re popular or academic press, or if they focus on individuals or a larger scope. It’s just so easy (for obvious reasons) to find stuff about more recent history and I’d like some variety.

Also since you asked for prompts while you have the plague, I’d love anything that comes to mind with more Leia.

Do I have any recs for pre-20th century queer history? Ahaha. Ahahaahaha. Aha. Hah. I, uh, may have a few. The best place to start is in my queer history tag, which will contain the various books, topics, and questions that I have discussed over the years. There are many recs for all periods of premodern queer history, which is one of my chief academic specialties. If that is not sufficient for your purposes, DM me and I can email you my bespoke 10+ page bibliography on medieval and early modern queer history.

As for Leia, please enjoy this small snippet of feelings set after the end of Kenobi episode 4:

-------

If she's honest, Leia Organa still does not know for sure why any of this is happening.

It started so simply: running away from the palace on Alderaan, as she's done countless times and which she is usually indulged by doting nannies and droids, even though they have to give her a stern scolding for the sake of form. Her parents are also resignedly used to it, though Mother has started to make more noises about how this won't be tolerated as much when Leia is older and has real responsiblities. As for Senator Bail Organa -- well, he adores her, he always gives her a secret smile when he hears that she's shown up some interfering bureaucrat or officious minor relatives, and Leia would shrivel into dust if she ever really disappointed him. But still, that shouldn't have ended like this. She's been kidnapped, rescued, kidnapped again, fallen off a building, seized by strange people who really aren't polite, almost tortured, interrogated by the frightening Inquisitor Reva who told her that Ben was dead, and she almost believed it until he appeared and saved her again. Lifted her down from the rack, fought his way through endless hallways like a real Jedi with a real lightsaber, and has promised to take her home. Home.

They're sitting side by side on the transport, Lola safely tucked into her bag, the little droid's presence a familiar and comforting hum that Leia can feel at the edges of awareness, the way she can with everyone she knows well, or even those she's just met. She has never had a name for the strange things she can do, the way she can look into someone's eyes and know their entire history and their deepest fears, and Bail and Breha have warned her that it's not something to talk about with anyone outside the family. Leia isn't dumb, stupid -- she knows that the Empire hunts Jedi and anyone who might be attached to the Jedi in any way at all, and she's snuck away to the library at odd hours and called up all the holo-records she can get her hands on, either with her own clearance or by faking her father's. She isn't sure, not entirely. But she thinks it's called the Force.

Leia has never known how to feel about that, and even less so now. She's known from a young age that she is adopted; the Organas have always been honest about that. But they turn considerably more evasive when she asks who her birth parents are. One of them, she's deduced, must have been a Jedi somehow, or connected to the Force. That was why she thought Ben must be her real father, when she first met him. He was so concerned about her, but he's never met her, and he can do the things that the Jedi used to do. She saw him fight, the searing blue glow of his lightsaber, the way he kept battling off all those stormtroopers and tried to hold back an entire ocean for her sake. Who else could love her that way, but her father?

And yet, he's said he's not, and Leia can sense that that's the truth. It makes no sense, but maybe now is not the time for mysteries. He looks so tired and so sad, and he sits as if he's still in terrible pain. Inquisitor Reva told her that he burned to death, and maybe that part wasn't entirely a lie. Just then, Leia desperately wants to be a grownup, a full diplomat and not just a little girl playing at it, being trained for an important destiny that she doesn't fully understand. She can't think what else to do. So she reaches out and takes his hand.

Ben -- she's heard people, including Tala and Reva, call him Obi-Wan, but in her mind, that's who he is -- looks at her, startled. Leia's briefly afraid that she's done something wrong, since it's clear that he's been alone for so long and doesn't know how to accept the simplest of comforts, but then he takes hold of her small hand with his large, rough one and squeezes. They sit there like that for what feels like forever; it's hard to tell in hyperspace anyway, and it doesn't matter. Then he exhales raggedly and says, "Thank you, Leia."

She bobs her head awkwardly. She isn't sure what to say. He's the one who rescued her from an obviously terrible fate, and she still doesn't know why Reva and the rest of the Empire want her so badly. Yes, she's a princess of Alderaan, she's the daughter of an important Republic politician who the Emperor still doesn't trust -- but maybe there's something beyond that. She will understand that one day, Leia vows to herself fiercely. She will.

"Thank you, Ben," she says back, quietly. "For saving me."

"No." Obi-Wan Kenobi looks down at her, weary and gentle, an old broken-down man who loves her so much for reasons she can't fathom, and Leia doesn't care at all for why. "You saved me."

#history #queer history #kenobi spoilers #sw ff #leia organa #wow i am covering a lot of ground in these tags huh #abominablesnowaro #ask

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norabrice1701 · 3 years

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Strange Case of Dr. Kreizler and Mr. Brühl - Ch. 10

A "Dr. Jekyll/Mr. Hyde" AU Modern!Laszlo/Daniel x Fem!Reader Series

Series Master List

Chapter Warnings: Explicit language, physical hurt/comfort, intoxicated character, use of actor's name not meant to reflect anything about him as himself

Chapter Word Count: 2.4k

Chapter 10 -

You tended to the faded bruises on Laszlo’s left knuckles in the morning. You didn’t know what else Mr. Brühl had done last night, but it wasn’t a question that you needed to ask.

Of course, you objectively knew the kind of things that he did, but to see him in action had been something different. The speed with which he moved, the effortless strength he displayed, the way he hadn't even paused before smashing in that man's nose. Would Mr. Brühl have really killed that man with no real provocation if you weren't there?

The memories roiled uneasily in your stomach, as did his parting words. But as the days passed and the memories continued to turn over in your mind - as much as it had been shocking and a few minutes of fearful nerves - you couldn't deny that it had been exhilarating and not entirely...off-putting. On some base level, it touched some survival instinct to feel protected, to be guarded by the most powerful strength. Even despite his initial suggestion to leave you in the open grave instead of that ex-cop, your body certainly didn’t have any physical qualms with Mr. Brühl, and you'd fallen back under his spell all too easily.

Nothing about that, though, brought you any peace or eased your worry the next time Laszlo...transformed. Especially as sleepless hours kept you awake, waiting and wondering who would walk through the bedroom door. Laszlo's last text only indicated another late night without any further hints. But in the end, you just found Laszlo in the morning, sporting a split lip and angry scratches on his cheek as he stumbled out of his main floor half-bath, pale but very much himself again.

You tipped more isopropyl alcohol onto the cloth, pressing it to the red, congealing scratch marks. “These look like they were made by...someone’s nails.”

Laszlo blinked against the bright kitchen light. “They were.”

Despite your exhaustion, the concern that had plagued you all night multiplied. Your mouth pinched to a thin line as you dabbed at the weeping blood. “Next time...when you become him - will you tell me, please?”

You didn’t think it was an unreasonable request, but he sighed heavily before speaking. “You shouldn’t have to be subjected to the ugly truths of my days.”

“The ugly truths of your days are a part of us being together,” you said tersely before softening your voice, “and if you’re going to be out all night...I’d just like to not be awake wondering if something happened to keep you legitimately late at the institute, or if you’re just him….”

He shook his head with gentle self-reproach as you pulled the cloth back. “The last thing I want you to do is worry about me.”

“Too late for that.” Your words caught on a yawn as you turned his chin to get a better look at his split lip. “I love you, I worry about you - simple as that.”

He exhaled another heavy breath, clearly not convinced but still accepting as his bloodshot, chocolate eyes connected with yours. “Then, I will try to be more forthcoming to let you know before I...change.”

“Thank you.” You tipped the rubbing alcohol bottle to a clean corner of the cloth. “This may sting worse.”

He didn’t flinch as you pressed the cloth against the dark red gash in his bottom lip. Again, you thought about asking what had happened, but you weren’t entirely sure that you wanted to know. The whole situation still broke your heart on some level, but at least after Halloween night, you could begrudgingly admit that you understood more about Mr. Brühl.

But was he right, though? Did Laszlo already know himself so well that he would never be able to let Mr. Brühl go? You didn't have the first clue about what the serum felt like, but you'd seen the clarity of thought and unassuming strength that it brought Mr. Brühl. He explained the world as you'd never heard, and maybe that was why it was Laszlo's chosen coping mechanism. However messed up that still sounded.

Still, at its core, the serum that Laszlo used was a drug, and all drugs carried a risk of addiction. You couldn’t even begin to imagine what it was to have such profound power surge through your veins, altering your body and mind. But if there was a rush, if there was a high, it didn’t seem to be something that Laszlo actively chased. At least, not yet.

Pulling the cloth away, you lowered your gaze to the tabletop. “What does it feel like?” You asked softly. “When you...change?”

He tensed against the chair, and you felt the full force of those always sharp, always perceptive eyes on you as he spoke. “An odd question.”

“Well, I’m…curious, I guess. You’re breaking the laws of nature as no one ever has - and the moral implications of Mr. Brühl notwithstanding, it’s really a remarkable achievement.” You shook your head as you fiddled with the alcohol bottle lid to ease your sudden nerves. “But to put yourself through that transformation…I’ve seen your rebirth. But to be born as him…?”

His hand found yours atop the bottle, pulling it against the warmth of his chest. He widened the spread of his legs, pulling you down to sit in his lap, wrapped in the strong embrace of his left arm. Echos of Mr. Brühl’s sandalwood cologne filled the air beneath astringent alcohol as you rested your forehead against his temple, turning so his lips rested by your ear.

His words singed your skin. “The experience is…electrifying. The world sharpens, colors are otherworldly – and everything becomes so clear.” He whispered for you alone. “No fear, no doubt, just…being and feeling – and doing.”

“That sounds frightening.”

“The first time, certainly. I…of course, I didn’t know what was happening.” He paused, shaking his head minutely. “The second time was the product of profound curiosity – and proved infinitely more enlightening.”

“Enlightening…? I guess that’s one way to look at it.”

“Every time that I’m him, I’m confronted with the worst version of myself – and yet, the experience is…liberating.”

You basked in his embrace for the space of a breath as the kitchen continued to shrink around you. “I suppose there’s an argument to be made for your bravery in continually confronting the worst of yourself…not only just confronting, but embracing.”

He shook his head in sudden, sharp denial. “True bravery would be taking a stronger stance as my own man.”

Your mouth curled with an unbidden smile. “You already give so much of yourself – it is alright to lean on others for support. I just –” You bit your lip to stop yourself, not wanting to add to his concern.

“Don’t hide from me now, Liebling.” He encouraged softly, rubbing his bearded cheek against your skin in a rasping caress.

You wrapped your arms tighter around him. “I just...I’ve already told you that I wish he didn’t put you at such personal risk, but,” you sighed, "I just hope that...if he ever becomes a problem, that you'll solve it before he truly hurts you. Or us."

His arm tightened around you with warm reassurance. “Rest assured, if he ever does present a credible threat…I will see that it is dealt with.” He pressed his lips carefully to your cheek, the kiss full of promise. “You have my word.”

And you trusted him to keep it. About everything.

So, when the text arrived a few weeks later, well…. At least, he did as you asked. At least, you knew that he prowled the night as Mr. Brühl and all you could do was wait. It did make you instantly drain the rest of your brandy snifter, though, as you tried to keep focused on your book and relax against his living room couch.

As the hours passed, you wondered if maybe you should just go back to your apartment. Ever since Laszlo insisted that you keep the spare key, you’d found yourself quite accustomed to thinking of his home as your place together - but maybe you should let him have tonight for himself. Or, now that you knew what tomorrow morning would look like, would he appreciate you staying anyway? Maybe it wasn’t the most desirable job to care for him in Mr. Brühl’s aftermath, but you knew the routine and you wanted to be there for the man you loved.

The heavy wood and glass front doors crashed open, making you jump against the couch. You stared in open shocked, confusion as Mr. Brühl’s dark-suit clad form stumbled in with uncoordinated movements. His arms swung wildly for the door, trying to close it and succeeding after a few tries. He grumbled in German, hiccuping as he leaned against the closed doors.

Your face fell, stupefied as you heard him hiccup again and watched him slide to the floor. Abandoning your book, you rose from the couch and approached the foyer on cautious steps. Was this...some sort of joke? You’d never even heard Laszlo hiccup, so just what the hell?

You glared down at him, taking in his prone form stretched out on the polished hardwood floor. He wore the familiar dark sunglasses as he reclined, looking unfairly graceful with his ankles crossed and hands resting on his stomach. If you didn’t know better, you’d swear that he’d been laying here all night. Silence filled the air as you continued to stare down at his motionless form - until he hiccuped again.

You crossed your arms, shaking your head. “You’re a fucking mess.”

His eyebrow arched over a dark lens, words slurring together. “Lov’ya, too, babe.”

“I’m not your babe.”

Raising his left hand, he balled it in a fist as he brought it clumsily down over his chest. “Righ'through the heart.”

“Hmm, somehow I think you’ll live.”

He snorted, the sound distorted by another hiccup. “Thank you, doctor.”

You rolled your eyes before glancing over your shoulder at the stairs down to the kitchen. “You need water.”

Another unusually inelegant noise left him, his mouth curling with a wide grin. “Dis-gushting. Gin, please.”

“I think you’ve had more than enough.

“Don’t let...let these pesky...hic...fool you.” He wagged a scolding finger. “Didcha know hiccup is from the Latin word ‘singultus’ with ‘shin-gult’, of course, meaning ‘to catch one’s breath while sobbing’?”

You arched a teasing brow, unable to completely keep the smile from your face as he slurred his words. “And how did ‘hiccup’ evolve from ‘singultus’, hmm? They sound nothing alike.”

“It’s all part of the mysh-tery.”

Your smile grew despite your wary irritation as you glanced at your watch. “The only mystery here is why you’re totally wasted and it’s not even 11 pm yet…. Shouldn’t you be out, you know...ignoring the moral line with a dash of violence and a sprinkle of murder?”

His bottom lip puffed out. “Pffff, it’s not always abou’murder. And that’s no mysh-tery - I know exactly how I got here.” He tilted his head back to pointedly regard you, and you swore you could feel the penetrating stare of his molten-chocolate eyes through the tinted lenses. “The only real mysh-tery here...is why you haven’t asked him...if you can try the serum yet.”

You froze, stunned at his words. “Why in the world would I want to do such a reckless thing?”

“Because he heard the curious-nessh in your voice...and I heard your envy, Herzblatt. And because,” he snorted his amusement, gesturing at himself. “Jus’ look at me. Like those fake workout ads, ‘you, too, can look like this’ - except, you know…,” his right hand raised, tracing some swirl in the air that vaguely resembled an hourglass, “more feminine-ine.”

You bit your lip, unable to deny that there was some truth in his words. Ever since Laszlo described the serum experience to you, the question had lurked in the back of your mind despite everything that you'd seen. What would it feel like to see the world so freely vivid? To exist as your own self and learn the raw truth of who you were?

He cackled with a sudden, sharp sound. “See?! You have thought about it.” He shrugged a hand. “Now, will you sh-top believing that I’m a liar?”

You sighed, feeling a flush rise in your cheeks. “I never said you were a liar.”

“Doesn’mean that you don’t think I’m truthful…err, untruthful,” he shook his head dismissively. “But jus’imagine if I had a friend…a lady like me….”

His words took you back to Halloween night in the cemetery. When his outstretched hand enticed you to enter his world of blood and appetite. And, now, as he lay sprawled on the wood floor before you, still unfairly dignified in his crisp black suit, hunter green dress shirt, and sunglasses that complimented the angles of his face – he oozed forbidden seduction even in his drunken state. The longer you looked at him swathed in the cover of night, hidden from the rest of the world, drowning under his intense gaze – you suddenly wanted to say yes.

You wanted to believe his wicked words, wanted to eat his forbidden fruit. You wanted to know how it felt to be so electrified, to see the world with such radiant clarity. You wanted to fall with him and never resurface.

The force of your thoughts shook you, racing a shiver down your spine. You knew that you should know better – your mother had surely raised you to know better. You knew the story of the Devil’s temptation, and there was no doubt that a devil relaxed against the polished wood, his mouth curled with a beckoning grin.

But did this devil offer your salvation or damnation?

You blinked from your thoughts, knowing that you needed to change the topic of conversation. Slowly, you shook your head. “Maybe, someday - but before that, you need a first name.”

A startling laugh punched from him, a wide grin splitting his face. “Sh-poiling my fun’s not fun, Herzblatt.” He gave a gentle shake of his head as he sighed, falling still.

At first, you thought maybe he had passed out. It would be impossible to know for sure through the sunglasses. But then another hiccup shook his frame and he sighed in defeat before speaking. “Daniel, I think. Should do nicely.”

“Daniel?” You tilted your head. “And what makes you think that?”

“Daniel 12:3, ‘those who are wise will shine like the brightness of the heavens, and those who lead many to righteousness, like the stars for ever and ever.’” He wet his top lip with a smug air. “Sounds like me, amiright? Aren’tcha proud?”

“You are not wise, or a righteous leader.” Your face pinched with disbelief. “And why on earth do you have that bible verse memorized anyway?”

“I saw it at...at that orphanage...on that priest’s wall.” He raised his fingers to mimic a gun, pointing at his temple. “Mind like a sh-teel traa-p!” He popped the ‘p’ sound as private amusement suffused his face.

You shook your head, biting your lip. This conversation was going nowhere good. “Ok, fine - Daniel.” You exhaled deeply as you turned for the kitchen stairs. “I’ll get you some water.”

His dark chuckle echoed off the wood paneled walls. “Don’think you can run away s’easily! And you didn'distract me!” Another chuckle followed you down the hallway. “You don’t have to admit it to me, butcha can’t lie to yourself, Herzblatt.”

Series Master List

Tag List: @everythingbeginsineternity-blog @thehuiabird @creme-bruhlee @belle82devart @scuttle-buttle @glimmering-darling-dolly @somethingthatsaysbubbles @raraenoctes @random-frog-on-a-bench @reallystressedhoneybee @mischief-rcs @violetmuses

#the alienist #laszlo kreizler #laszlo x reader #laszlo x you #the alienist angel of darkness #daniel brühl #daniel brühl x reader #daniel brühl x you #laszlo kreizler fanfic #modern laszlo kreizler #dr jekyll and mr hyde

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gaygoetia · 2 years

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To return the favour, I'd like to hear your thoughts on Theon/Jon too, please. :)

Hi! Absolutely 😊

When I started shipping it

I don't remember specifically when I started shipping them but I remember reading the books and being fascinated by all the parallels between them. I'm pretty sure I was already shipping them by the time A Dance With Dragons came out in 2011 so it's been at least 10 years! (which makes me feel old as hell lol)

My thoughts

Too many to put down haha. These characters are perfect for the "enemies to lovers" trope. In canon they have such an antagonistic relationship on the surface but they have more in common than they realise and deep down they do care about each other.

What makes me happy about them

I love how different they are in complimentary ways. Jon is repressed and uptight so could learn a thing or two from Theon's "I do what I want" attitude but Theon is an irresponsible, insecure mess so he should really take a leaf out of Jon's book! They're not afraid to call each other out in ways I think are really beneficial for their development but they also understand better than most what the other is going through so there's a sense of mutual understanding there too.

What makes me sad about them

Well if we're talking about canon definitely the constant tragedy that plagues them both lol. I guess I'm also sad that they don't realise (yet?) in canon how similar they both are and how the things they hate about each other are actually rooted in familiar insecurities.

Things done in fanfic that annoy me

I hate when fanfic strips them of all their flaws (when that's literally what makes them so interesting!) to the point where they feel like totally different characters.

I also am not a fan of incest in fanfic and unfortunately it's pretty rampant in this fandom (for understandable reasons). I'm cool with other people shipping what they want but personally the moment incest comes up I usually stop reading.

Things I look for in fanfic

I am not someone who gravitate towards fluff or pre-established relationships. I love fiction which explores complex emotions and the messy reality of being a human being (especially one with a fuck ton of trauma and/or internal biases to work through)

Snowjoy isn't a particularly popular pairing (especially since the show ended) so I'll usually read any fic with them in lol. But my favourite tropes for them are slow burn, enemies to friends to lovers, fake dating and modern AU's.

I also love fics which explore or touch on mental illness, addiction, toxic masculinity, internalised homophobia and toxic friendships/relationships

Who I'd like them to end up with, if not each other

I truly do ship Theon with almost every character lmao. Theon/Robb, Theon/Jeyne, Theon/Patryk and Theon/Sansa are a few that come to mind. That said, in fic where he ends up with women I need him to have character development where he learns to respect women before I can root for them.

Jon I ship with fewer people but I can get on board with Jon/Satin, Jon/Ygritte and Jon/Sam.

My happily ever after for them

In canon its hard to think of one that would make sense tbh. Probably either Theon joining the Night's Watch and them being together there or them going beyond the Wall and living together as wildlings. I'm personally not a big fan of Jon as Lord of Winterfell/King in the North in general but especially when it comes to this pairing because I think it would create an uncomfortable power imbalance after everything Theon has been through.

Who is the big spoon and who's the little spoon?

I think they switch! I think Theon has a soft spot for being the little spoon though after a lifetime of wanting to be one but feeling too self conscious to ask.

Favourite non sexual activity

Definitely agree with you about the bickering haha.

Bonus

If you like this pairing you may enjoy this playlist I made for them (depending on your music taste):

It's an indie-rock playlist based mostly on their pre-Ramsay dynamic.

#ask meme #snowjoy #got #ASoIaF #long post

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morimakesfanart · 3 years

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Sindria's Prophet #16

[1] [2] [3] [4] [5] [6] [7] [8] [9] [10] [11] [12] [13] [14] [15]

[AO3]

~POV Sinbad~ Mori wasn't just a Prophet, she had immense knowledge of her own that was going to make Sindria untouchable. Sinbad was going to achieve his dream much sooner than he had ever imagined. Mori was special; intelligent, clever, capable, and she could read the waves of Fate. Was there any other woman as attractive? The unknown craving that had plagued him for the past week was placated. Delicious wine, beautiful women, delicious food -none of his normal pleasures had fulfilled whatever that feeling was, but for some reason this moment with the his Beautiful Prophet was. "And now you're *my* kind and generous King Sinbad, ... Right?" Mori's bashful confidence was always endearing, but hearing her call him 'my King' in person made something snap in him. They were in a corner and Mori is small; he could easily block view of her in case any of the magicians turned around. He wouldn't even have to lean that far to get a taste of her. "DO EITHER OF YOU Have an ounce of self awareness??” Ja'far popped the bubble that had formed around the two.

King Sinbad froze. Everyone in the room was watching them. Sinbad stood up straight. He shouldn't exactly continue his plans with an audience. He removed his hand from the window and crossed his arms. Yam was practically shaking the magician next to her. "I wasn't the only one to see it this time!” An older magician with a beard laughed and said something like 'to be young.' Another said something a long the lines of "So it's like that then." Ja'far was still grumbling about his King's behavior -he should know better by now, he promised he wouldn't, etc. but 1. Sinbad didn't do anything wrong, and 2. he said he knew what he was doing -he knew how to handle flirting with Mori; he never said anything about not flirting with her. "And you, Lady Prophet," Ja'far changed targets. 'Oh?' Sinbad didn't expect Mori to be reprimanded for his flirting -although, she did flirt back. Ja'far continued, "You said that you knew about Sin's habits so wouldn't fall for him or-" "AAAAAH" Yamuraiha yelled over the other General as she crossed the room as fast as she could, and clapped a hand over his mouth. She turned to the King and Prophet with wide eyes and a forced smile. "Your Majesty! Mori! Would you like to see the spell again with our new changes?!" She didn't let go of Ja'far. The group of magicians started supporting her suggestion with "Let us show you," "I'm sure we've got it this time," and reciting the changes to the formula. They were clearly trying to stop Ja'far from discouraging Mori. Sinbad had no idea why they suddenly decided to become his wingmen, but it was convenient for him since he planed to do more than flirt with her later. Mori walked up to the Generals, although she only addressed Yamuriaha. "Yes, please! Even if it's not perfect I'd like to see your progress!" She spoke with the same forced enthusiasm as Yam. Sinbad only got a glimpse before Mori's back was to him, but her face was definitely a brighter red than it had been a moment ago. She was getting better at flirting with him, but she couldn't hold her composure for long. The King laughed as the head magician practically body checked Ja'far out of her way and left him out of the group before they preformed the newly revised spell. This time it produced a mostly clear stone. It wasn't a high quality diamond, but they had done it. They would have to be careful with this though since it could lower the market value of whatever they make. As they figured out the specifics for every substance they needed, Sindria could become fully self sufficient -they would still deal in trade so as to not completely leave the rest of the world behind. It was amazing. His magicians were amazing for being able to figure this out in such a short time, and his Prophet was just as -if not even more- amazing for knowing all of this and being able to explain it to them. When the excitement around the magic spell died down they finally showed him the microscope. It was a prototype so they had to be gentle with it. Two pieces of glass with water squished between them were slid under and when Sinbad looked through the lenses he saw the strange small creatures that Mori had written about. Seeing them forced him to accept that what Mori wrote about 'germs' had to be true too -and those were even smaller than these things. Looking at those things squirming around and knowing they were everywhere made his skin crawl. The King stopped looking through the device. "They really are real." "Yup." Mori responded plainly. "And now that you all know and have proof. There's going to have to be a lot of changes. The way illnesses are handled is obvious, but there's going to have to be a lot more changes to how food and housing and things are handle to better maintain sanitary environments. I know a bunch of sanitation procedures so I can help there too." Ja'far was rubbing his temples. "This is going to be a logistical nightmare. Do you realize that we are going to have to fix all those things and get all Sindrians to understand without having it affect our production or

trade??" "It's not like we're doing this alone." Mori tried to comfort him. "We'll figure something out." The conversation moved to this new problem. His Beautiful Prophet really was something else. She had solutions to problems they didn't even know they had. Mori had a habit of using her hands whenever she talked -even more when she was excited. She was cute and deserved to know, but she was in the middle of helping his people so he would hold his tongue and just watch her. If Sinbad was honest, he had stopped listening to the conversation a while ago and was just looking for an opportunity to finally ask Mori -and Yam of course- if they would join him for dinner so he could get all of his Generals more aquatinted with her. Someone mentioned a specific scroll in one of the libraries. Before the whole group could drag Mori out of the room, King Sinbad raised a hand and got everyone's attention. "I know there's a lot to do, but I have some things to discuss with my Beautiful Prophet as well." Mori looked back at him. "What is it?” It seemed that nickname wasn't as affective as before -hopefully it was just the timing. "Is it something we can talk about here?” "I was thinking we could talk over dinner," Sinbad paused to see how she would respond to the implications. Mori's eyes widened and her shoulders tensed, and best of all that blush came back. "With all of my Generals, of course." Mori blushed harder realizing he was messing with her. Yam looked disappointed at first -his Generals cared way to much about him finding a wife- but then she looked content with being a part of the plan. "You might have met them, and know them from reading Fate but they still don't know you yet." He finished. Yam spoke first. "This is a great idea. Pisti was just telling me that she wanted to get to know Mori." Mori regained her composer. "I'd like to get to know everyone personally too, so I'm find with this." It was a roundabout way of saying 'yes.' Her blush was gone but she was still embarrassed. With that settled, Ja'far let Yam and Mori know when dinner would be ready. It was a little earlier than he normally ate but this would give them more time to mingle before they'd be completely out of sunlight. "Well then," the King turned to his Prophet, "since we have some time beforehand-" "OH no you don't!" Ja'far cut in. "You've already had a long enough break *and* you plan on ending early today? The least you can do is work your butt off until then." --- ~POV Mori~ The King was pushed out of the room by his right hand man. I had a mix of relief and longing watching him go. "You'll see his Majesty again soon." Yam had a sweet smile on her face, but I knew better than to trust it. All eyes were on me and they were no longer the eyes of academics; they were hungry for gossip. I was not ready to explain why shipping us was a bad idea. "So about that scroll you mentioned earlier..." I completely shifted conversation back to the eventual rebuilding effort and luckily one of them obliged me.

I was lead to one of the libraries and handed a few scrolls on the construction used in the country. I had read a little on ancient construction methods out of interest and some on modern methods since my uncle worked in the industry. I had a little bit of experience with construction when I worked at a community theater, but it wouldn't be anything the people here wouldn't know. That paired with these documents showing how magic was used in the process made what little I did know completely useless. 'Can't know everything I guess.' I turned my head up towards the ceiling. I wasn't sure how much time I had left and I decided to use it soaking up the ambience of the library. The smell of paper, the maze-esc layouts, the quiet feeling; it's like a gentle space separate from the rest of the world. The libraries of the Black Libra Tower also had huge windows to let in a ton of natural lighting. I was really going to enjoy working in this place. --- Yam and I ended up lost in conversation, so someone ended up being sent to bring us to the dinner. When we finally arrived and opened the doors to the dining hall my nose was filled with the smell of herbs and delicious food. This was my first meal that wasn't paired with bitter medicine. I might have been procrastinating subconsciously to avoid the medicine I was no longer taking. Everyone was already there chatting. The long table was covered with food, but I couldn't make out any of it from the door. King Sinbad was sitting at the head of the table at the other end of the room with a goblet in his hand. Yamuraiha started in ahead of me and called into the room. "I'm sorry we're so late! We were talking about magical proofs and," she rambled in her explanation. I heard a few comments of congrats for getting better and said "Thanks" reflexively more than consciously. As I got closer, I ignored the Generals at the table to look at the spread. There were a few different types of fish, meat of some kind, a bunch of vegetables, and bread. It brought tears to my eyes; It was so beautiful. The Imuchukk laughed at my obvious interest in the food. "What are you waiting for? There plenty for everyone." He was sitting closest to the door. I didn't look away from the food when I answered. "I'm small with a small stomach so I'm going to need to pace myself to be able to eat a little of everything. If I save the best for last like I normally do then I might not even get to eat it." That garnered laughs and comments. I ignored them; I was too busy weighing my options. As the guest of honor I was placed at the opposite end of the table from King Sinbad. Thank goodness, because I didn't think I could handle being super close to him all evening. Even with the direct line of sight, I had distance to protect me. Yam sat on the other side of Hina from me. Pisti was on my other side. Sharrkan was across from Yam. Spartos was between Yam and Ja'far. Drakon was across from Ja'far. And Masrur was between Drakon and Sharrkan.

I picked up my plate to get food. "Alright. I've decided to just grab my favorites. If I have room later then so be it!" I was used to being watched while I eat so their stares didn't bother me. I covered my plate in all of the types of fish and some vegetables. "I take it you like fish?" Sinbad asked while I was taking some of the fish that was on his end of the table. "It's my favorite!" I answered excitedly. I could tell as I placed the grilled fish on my plate that it was going to be heavenly. It was already flaking and letting the smell reach me faster. I couldn't wait to get back to my seat and took a bite of the fish. It melted in my mouth. I let out a squeak of approval as I grabbed another bite. After a moment Sinbad asked me another question. "What do you think of greasy foods?" It felt pointed. "I'll eat it if it's the only option, but I'm not a fan." The Generals made some comments that amounted to, "They have the same taste." I was too busy enjoying my food to think about what they were saying. Pisti asked me her own pointed question as I sat down. "Do you like alcohol?" They were comparing me to Sinbad. I suddenly remembered the Official Character Encyclopedia. According to it, Sinbad's favorite food was fish, his least favorite was greasy, and his favorite snacks were the types that paired well with alcohol. "I'm not a big drinker, but it's not like I dislike alcohol. I'm just allergic to sulfites." "Huh?" The group asked in unison. Time to explain one of my allergies again. "Sulfites are a very useful preservative so it was also added to a lot of foods back home including alcohol. All grape wines produce sulfites naturally. When I ingest about 2 shots of a drink that contains sulfites I will struggle to breathe for about an hour." As soon as the words were out of my mouth, the goblet of wine I didn't realize was in front of me was grabbed by Hinahoho. They all looked panicked at each other like they had just dodged a bullet. In an attempt to relieve the tension, Sinbad asked Yam to catch everyone up on the meeting from earlier. Yam started ranting about the progress we had made with the alchemy magic. While they focused on reclaiming the mood, I focused on the delicious food. I tried a root vegetable on my plate. It was a little earthy with a subtle sweetness. The seasoning added to the sweet, but also had a little spice similar to cracked pepper. It had been streamed so it wasn't crunchy. I was asked to repeated what I told Sin and Ja'far earlier about the tech of home, Their questions had me explain more about my world and many of the things I had done: volunteer work to get scholarships, marketing for some networking organizations and some other companies, an assistant and teacher in out of school programs for 6 years while also working at a theater to pay for my own education. I only mentioned some of the places I had traveled to. I didn't even get to the things I did as hobbies or in working toward my dream of being a full time writer&artist. "I'm surprised by how much you say you've done." Drakon commented. I had heard similar before when talking about my past. "Is it really that shocking? Considering my age, I think it makes sense for me to have done a bit." It's more shocking that I was doing all that while getting so sick from my chronic illnesses that I would be fully bedridden and need a machine to breathe at least once a year until I turned 15. But I had also ate up inspiration porn as a child as a motivation to not let my body hold me back if I could. "Aren't we around the same age?" Yam asked me in response. I laughed. "Do I look 23 to you?" I've been mistaken for much younger than I actually was for as long as I could remember. It 1st became a problem when I turned 18 and got told I was clearly 12 with a fake ID when trying to buy an M rate game (Devil May Cry btw). "You're not?” ”Nope.” I rested my elbows on the table, interlocked my fingers, and I placed my chin on top with a smile, "But I'm curious how old you all think I am now." At 25 I was mistaken for a 14

year old. At least, a few months back someone thought I was legal (they guessed 19). Most realized I had to be older the more they talked to me, but their impressions never fully dissipated. As frustrating as it was, I found amusement in times like this by turning my age into a guessing game. Sharkkan had the face of someone fearing they had hit on someone too young. "You are at least 20, right?” They all suddenly looked worried. "I'm definitely older than 20." I answered. Pisti laughed. She was also short with a baby face; she knew my struggle. "Maybe she's older than Ja'far!” Of course she would make the closest guess. "There's no way she's older than me." Ja'far scoffed. "I am older than 25 though.” I could have teased him but I held my tongue since he already seemed annoyed with me. "How old are you then?” Hina asked. "I'm 29.” I smiled at everyone's surprise. I might only have surface levels similarities to Sinbad, but when you're a simp for a fictional character does that really matter? "I was born on April 7th so I should only be 5 days younger than King Sinbad since he was born on the 2nd. However, I don't know if there's a time dilation between my world and this one. The day we met was Oct 3rd for me back home. It wasn't the same date here, was it?" Sinbad is 29, Ja'far is 25, and Masrur is 20 during the Balbadd arc; their 2nd set of ages are 30, 26, and 21 respectfully. Ja'far's birthday is Aug 30th and Masrur's is Dec 27. Those 2nd ages listed can't be for right after the 6 month time skip because no matter how you calculate it the shortest distance between those 3 birthdays is 8 months. I was really interested in how the current arbiter of this world was going to figure this out. "It was Oct 3rd here too." "Oh. Well, that's convenient," was what I said while my thoughts were cursing the arbiter. 'That lazy son of a bitch synced the worlds so they wouldn't have to deal with a time dilation. I can feel it. Hold on... I arrived on Oct 3rd; the coup was 4 days later on the 7th. 6 months later would mean Sinbad arrives back in Sindria on my birthday. Did some 'real me' somewhere plan a b-day present for myself in some self-indulgent fanfiction??' ((Yes. Yes, I did UwU & I plan on making Mori panic then too.)) King Sinbad had that smile on his face that told me he was ready to flirt. "I didn't realize we were so close in age." No colors got in my way when he talked. That was good. I was desensitized again, and wouldn't have to deal with unnecessary distractions. I couldn't tease Ja'far, but I could tease his Majesty. "I know, right? It's amazing what the difference of 5 days can do for one's complexion." Sinbad froze and his expression went blank. Something that was probably wine sprayed across the table as Sharkkan had a spit take before erupting into laughter with Hinahoho and Pisti. "Oh my" Yam murmured with a hand over her mouth. Drakon , Spartos, and Ja'far stared at me in disbelief. Sinbad still wasn't responding... Maybe teasing him about his age was a bad idea. So far, unless it was something important I flirted with Sinbad since that was the best way to get on his good side; hearing something like this from me must have hurt a bit extra. I had been so wrapped up in my thoughts that I forgot just how sensitive he was about his age. I ended up flailing my hands from nerves, and to get his attention. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said that when I know how self conscious you are." He flinched. "I don't know if this will make you feel any better, but you won't look any older than you do now 5 years from now..." "I uh.. Is that so?" Sinbad asked as he started to regain himself. "It is. You'll be just as-” "If you're willing to talk about the future, does that mean you are finally ready to explain about those calamities you mentioned in Balbadd?" Ja'far cut in with a fierce look. He had been waiting for any mention of the future to bring this up. The King spoke with a gentle but stern tone. "I don't know if this is the time for that conversation. This is Mori's first meal with

everyone after all." "I'm fine. I made a promise and I intend to keep it. As long as everyone else is willing to talk seriously for a few mins, I don't see the problem." I had been avoiding this conversation for long enough. There were things I still planned to keep secret, but I couldn't avoid having this conversation forever. And besides, I could feel in the waves that Ja'far wasn't going to let this night end unless I explained some of it. ((I have the next 3 chapters written but it's going to take me a bit to draw all of illustrations & comics. Also, good luck to all the students reading this. I know classes are starting up again. Be safe out there.))

#magi prophet fanfic #sinbad x oc #magi sinbad x oc #king sinbad #sinbad magi #magi fanfic #magi sinbad #yamuraiha

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beastybarron · 2 years

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Welcome! However you managed to get here, I’m glad you did. This blog was created with the intent to spark a conversation within communities around the world. An ongoing dialogue regarding society’s standards and why we feel obligated to conform.

Today, it is far too easy to get caught up in the illusions that plague modern society. The illusion where we think we have it figured out, but in reality we’re barely getting by. Or what about the illusion that we should be making six figures before the age of 30 yet only to fail, once again. We all know that social media depicts these false positives of how perfect life is, because everyone's flawless right? Ya know what I’m talking about. Fallacies such as that are key contributors to the modern day identity crisis that’s leading to the separation of people from their individuality.

Society's expectations for people are too outdated. Correct me if I’m wrong but doesn’t EVERYBODY grow up dreaming of wanting to attend a four- year College/University, earn a degree, struggle afterwards to get that “dream” job [which if you’re lucky will be in your field of study] , payoff school debt, strategize how you’re going to save/invest for retirement, all while trying to enjoy life? Let’s also not forget the social pressure of finding a romantic partner, starting a family and the “mumbo-jumbo” that’s associated with the word love. If that’s the lifestyle you dreamed of as a child; then I’m sorry, BUT you are in the right place because I’d like to shed some light on those unrealistic expectations.

Society subliminally trains us to believe we’re put here just to experience life rather than live it how we want. The education system is a great example of this by how it teaches kids what to think rather than how to think. This process is a way of taming children's personality / creativity which is what allows you to imagine the kind of life you want to live, and execute it. Without constant creation and imagination kids will grow up and accept all the pre-set rules for life established by the adults around them.

I dare you to ask a group of 1st graders what they want to be when they're grown, you’ll hear all kinds of brilliant responses. It’s in that moment they realize anything they want is within reach because they are the creators of their reality. Fast forward 10 years and those answers will become more vanilla because they’ve been exposed to society's pressures. It’s not your fault that society trains people to blend into the crowd but it is your responsibility to keep your individualism. If you’re thinking there’s nothing special about you then you’ve let society’s standards get to you. The standards that we already established as total BS. I’m willing to guarantee the majority of people aren’t enjoying their day to day lifestyle which is a problem because life is meant to be enjoyed.

YOU ARE THE CREATOR OF YOUR REALITY. Any and everything that is happening to you is happening for you and that’s up to you to see. We will never be able to control what happens to us but we always have a choice in how we respond. This is where our true power resides. We need to realize we have a response-ability (the ability to respond) to any and everything that happens to us. If you choose to respond poorly to an unfortunate series of events, expect that to be your normal routine. However, if you choose to respond positively, you begin to transform your mind into seeing tragedy as opportunity.This process is much easier said than done but if you become more conscious of what you can control versus what you can’t, you’ll be able to alter your responses to make any situation beneficial for yourself.

Personally, I’m tired of living life and seeing people succumbing to all of these illusions because they don’t truly know who they are and what they actually want. We’re born knowing who we are and what we like but over time society starts to mold us into someone that “fits” into the crowd. Most people would rather postpone their joy for Friday/Saturday night when they feel they can truly be themselves and forget about all their problems that plague them during the week. By no means am I condemning people for going out every weekend. Fun is great, but I do pose the question: What are you celebrating? Is it truly a celebration of the hard work put in during the week or just a coping mechanism for the stress you’re enduring on a day to day basis?

The conversations need to be shifted from what everybody else is doing to what are you doing and why? At the end of the day you're the person that has to look in the mirror and accept what's looking back... The great thing about being a human (besides the thumbs) is the fact we can change the trajectory of our lives at any given moment whilst other animals cannot. You can come from nothing and die with everything and vice versa. With this power there must come a time of self reflection and humility that will allow new curiosities to be pursued and new habits to be developed so you can live a more fulfilling life.

I’m creating this blog in hopes of inspiring someone somewhere to take a stand against society and truly embody who they are. If every person is focused on being the best version of themselves however that looks, the world can and will be a better place. This life stuff is a lot simpler than we make it out to be, we just get caught up in what everyone else is doing in comparison to what we “should '' be doing.

Life isn’t meant to be as stressful and complicated as we make it. Life should be effortless as long as you’re in tune with yourself. It’s taking time to find out who you are and staying true to that throughout the ups and downs in life. It will keep you leveled and eliminate a lot, if not all stress you’re dealing with. Once again easier said than done or else we all would be “enlightened” and floating through life with ease. As long as you’re surrounding your subconscious with information related to making you better (such as this) then you’ll be alright. That’s really where everything lies that determines who you are- the subconscious mind.

I hope this post was informative in some way and that you can use the information provided to start to break away from modern society and live as your authentic self. We are all the creators of our realities and I encourage you to create a reality that aligns with who you are and what you stand for. This is just the beginning of “Some Shit to Think About” and I hope to see you again soon.

#tumblr #lifestyle #reality #reading #blog post #society #individual #follow

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xxdeathspellsxx · 4 years

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I’m so sorry I’m going to sound so ignorant rn but I’m so confused- so is the star they used on the shirt bad? What’s the best way I can go around researching this history of the appropriation of the star, it’s antisemitism, and why people are angry about it? Also, were you saying the return video in the forest was a antisemetic too...? There are so many things in everyday life I’m finding are antisemetic and I just,,, didn’t know, it’s crazy how much history has been erased and twisted.

it’s ok! it’s a lot going on and a lot of language getting thrown here and there so i’ll break it down as best as i can. i’m going to create a pagebreak bc this is going to be a lot of text.

to be specific here, the star we are referencing is the six-pointed star. also to note, when i say “occult”, i mean the quotations as such because the Hot Topic website used that specific word to describe it.

so the star they used on the shirt is historically a jewish symbol, or the magen david. this website here is an explanation of the symbol, its historic use, and the meaning of it. the breakdown of it is basically that it has been used both within jewish history and in non-jewish history. it wasn’t officially recognized as an aspect of distinct judaism until relatively recently (as in, the past couple centuries recently), but it has grown to be associated specifically with our culture over time. with that said, it’s been more readily appropriated by groups associated with western/specifically european occultism, which is directly rooted in antisemitic beliefs. i do want to state that this antisemitism has been reworked into other coded language, and while the “evil” things present in such culture no longer state that they are jews, they still hold jewish stereotypes and harmful tropes.

more modern connections between these modern-european “occult imageries” tend to feature said six-pointed star. as mentioned, it’s now commonly associated with judaism, and given modern-european occultism is mostly tied to teachings of the antisemite Aleister Crowley (don’t get me started on how much this guy was a douche--my HS senior paper was 10 pages of fuck-this-guy), it’s not hard to tie the use of the six-pointed star to antisemitic beliefs. however, i do want to state that not everyone who uses this symbol is aware of this. i like to believe that most people (including whoever made this shirt) wasn’t aware of the connotations, and used the symbol as they’ve seen it on repopularized “occult imagery”.

so. after that word vomit. lets unpack the use on the shirt.

the star on the shirt is not bad inherently. the way its used is improper, but the star itself is not bad. my people adorn ourselves with it. i have one on a chain on my neck at all times that i never take off. we often use it as our physical signifier--you often see it on synagogues and often our religious wear, like kippahs.

however, when used outside of a jewish context in, for example, “occult” clothes, it does not carry pro-jewish connotations. i would not label it as directly acting upon antisemitism, as most people who use it are not using it for antisemitic purposes. however, it has an antisemitic history out of jewish contexts in recent years, therefore making it harmful.

when i typically see it being used, i tend to see it as a miseducation, and that people don’t understand it’s harmful. i hate to say it this way, but antisemitism is ingrained within countless cultures throughout the world. ashkenazic (the european jewish ethnicity) antisemitism is ingrained in european history and culture, and therefore is so common that it’s forgotten.

for further research, i recommend using jewish sources and researching the meaning of the symbol, and research crowley and his rebrandings.

SO TL;DR for that section: the symbol itself is not bad! it’s an identifier for most jewish people today, and we often wear it ourselves (i do so myself!). however, it being used out of context currently, specifically in correlation with european “occultism”, is interpreted as antisemitic in nature. with that said, i believe it’s best to give people who use it the benefit of the doubt, and gently educate them.

OKAY SO ON TO THE SUMMONING

this is a reference to the iron cross shown in the video. basically it’s a symbol that was used over the history of christianity (and catholicism? i think?), however it was appropriated by the nazis.

i dont think the summoning video was antisemitic. i dont think they were using the symbol as a nazi symbol.

do i think they should’ve chosen something else given the nazis used it? yes. but i dont think they were using it with nazi-intentions. i just think they didn’t really do their research (a common theme, apparently). but many people (mostly non-jews, again) leapt to call it antisemitic because it had been used by nazis. i think this was also overstepping jewish voices but that’s my stance on that.

to wrap this up... yeah. antisemitism is older than christianity. it’s sort of what we build our holidays off of (i say this as a dark-but-real joke, but a lot of jewish holidays are about suffering). it’s generation upon generation upon generation of systematic harm, relocation, slavery, genocide, etc. we were blamed for the plague, we were blamed for crops dying and financial collapses. and currently, we’re being blamed for literally all the world’s problems (again). most conspiracy theories center around “it was the jews”, both from the old days and today. in the US, still, we are astronomically more likely to be hate crimed than any other religion. i have been told to my face before by someone that they want to kill jews, and was told that watching old holocaust videos were cathartic. this was in an extremely liberal college setting.

i don’t want to say these things to make it sound scary, because if there’s anything jewish people are, it’s resilient. but i say these things because i think it’s important to see that and recognize how deeply antisemitism is ingrained into the world and into cultures. it’s shocking when you realize how deep it goes. the best thing you can do is amplify jewish voices, listen to jewish people, and be an ally to us.

thanks for reading my rant <3 let me know if there’s anything else i can clarify.

#i'm gonna put a tw on here bc i get into historic antisemitism #so tw on antisemitism through the ages and mentions of violent antisemitism

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annethepancake · 3 years

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Sherlock rant

I recently rewatched BBC Sherlock for Rupert Graves, and aside from the lack of Lestrade appreciation I have a lot of problems with this series. Here are my thoughts:

1. It was all a blur

My second first impression of the show: I don't remember anything but the characters. And some characters I just blatantly forgot, like Mary. And I loved Mary on my second watch! I really forgot that at one point John actually got married and I don't even remember when I watched the show for the first time. I can still recall most of HIMYM's events and I hated that series.

2. It’s overall not a detective/crime show

Watching Sherlock for the second time, I mostly turned off my brain and just let it play in the background because (1) there's hardly anything for me to solve with the characters, most clues are taken by Sherlock off-screen anyway (especially after season 2), (2) they focus way too much on the quirks of the characters that make it almost like a sitcom that got dragged on for way too long. A crime/detective show shouldn't allow me to turn off my brain.

3. The characters just kinda fall flat

Exploring the depth of human emotions is not a bad approach to a modernized version of anything, I’m not trying to pretend I’m better than someone who gets sentimental over fictional character (if you know my blog at all, you know I am not), but at least write good characters. Sherlock is hardly a multi-faceted person; in fact, he’s kinda like the Wattpad teen fic main character sometimes. He physically fights off some terrorists with a machete to save the damsel in distress? He gets high off his tits but still got everything right all the time? John is just kinda there for most of the cases. Jim is a poorly written antagonist. Irene is a lesbian but gets the hot for our main character, surprise surprise. The only interesting characters to me are the ones who act like normal people: Molly, Greg and Mary. They are the multi-faceted characters, ones who I can actually relate to without feeling inferior to them in any way. Write characters like them, stop trying to be smart about it and stop writing Wattpad fanfictions for Sir Conan Doyle’s original works.

I get that they try to make Sherlock more like a human with emotions, making him quirky and arrogant, then make him quirky and more likable. It’s hardly a convincing character development though. He’s given over-powered deduction skills, so edgy, so high and mighty all the time. When he is finally written as vulnerable, turns out he has plans for that too. I would love to see him get it wrong once and maybe get humbled by that mistake, but getting Mary shot and killed is hardly even his fault, he is only doing his job. And killing off Mary is overall a bad idea anyway.

4. They treated the fandom like shit

I was absolutely disgusted at the start of season 3 when the showrunners just straight up shat on their fans. I wasn't there with the fandom during the wait between season 2 and 3, but I believe it was a pretty long wait (2 years, I could barely wait 2 years for my comfort series, and they have like 10 episodes per season), and they were presented with the first actual mystery of the series: How did Sherlock survive the fall? After years of waiting and having fun theorizing, they were met with a mockumentary about them, starring the most hated character of the protagonist and the fans. Those are the people who actually cared about the show for god's sake. The fact that the showrunners treated fans like crap and there's still an active fandom for the show appalled me.

Now not only The Empty Hearse bugs me, but the entire show does as well.

Allow me to digress.

Doki Doki Literature Club is a great example of audience engagement done right (Sorry for using this example I’m not actually that invested in the other franchises). After the success of the first game, the story provoked so many fans into solving the mysteries of the characters, some of them went really, really far. And that’s because of the actual mysteries that the development team took effort to plant into the plot. There is actual pay-off for painstakingly following the clues; as far as I know, only two (2!) people in the world have come close to solving the mystery of the first game (or they actually did). The game developers value their fans and their intelligence enough to have planted those clues where they did, and it’s a genuine exchange between the fans and the creators. Now even though you haven’t actually played the game, when you hear of the name and you’re only kinda familiar with gaming (like me), you’ll probably know what it is. What started as a mere open-source game by an indie developer became a sensation which left millions of fans begging for more.

Looking back at Sherlock, there are tons of logical flaws for a self-proclaimed crime series, virtually no clues for the audience to solve crimes along with their favorite detective, and when there was actually a mystery (Sherlock jumped off the building), they plainly showed him alive and well minutes later. Do we really need to see things spelled on screen to know what’s going on? Are we supposed to accept that Sherlock Holmes is an all-knowing future-predicting genius now too? Not a great sign of respecting the audience there.

So far, the only thing left that’s interesting about this series is the characters’ dynamic. Which brings me to the next criticism I have for the show.

5. The plague that infested mainstream media

Why is there still an active fandom? Queerbaiting and targeted marketing.

Community marketing is proven to be one of the best marketing methods there is, if not the best, to lengthen the lifespan of a product or service. The way they do that for shows and films and video games is usually by planting seeds of possible lores and history inside the content. Look at Harry Potter or Lord of the Rings, they are franchises that ran for multiple years with a ton of history and world building that provokes fans’ imagination.

Sherlock - well, Sherlock has sexually ambiguous men.

Sherlock has a formula for success. It was an adaptation of the most iconic detective novel in the world, funded by one of the biggest TV networks in the UK and possibly the world (don’t quote me on this). Making this series means you can appeal to such a wide group of audience even before airing. Adding in the quirky smart men who live together, you’ve basically guaranteed a prime-time show with millions of loyal fans all over the world.

Fans are not stupid, and queer people don't just find queerness everywhere they go. They know a gay subtext when they see one. Sherlock came back from the literal death for John, pretty gay if you ask me.

This show is very much not just about some guys being dudes solving crimes, they have relationship that’s deeper than friendship, and definitely not platonic. They deliberately wrote a sexually ambiguous Sherlock Holmes from the get-go - literally from the very first episode, then capitalized off of the targeted demographic, never a pay-off for their anticipation. Martin Freeman said in interviews that he could recognize Sherlock fans, them being generally women from 16 - 25. No shit Sherlock, this show targets them and capitalizes off of them, being quirky and gay as hell, of course the fanbase is generally 16 - 25 and female.

Sherlock queerbaited the fandom for years for the sake of marketing and there’s never a pay-off, nor was there any recognition to the community, and to add to all that bigotry, queercoding pretty much all of the villains? Why was a show aired in the 2010′s allowed to do this? Why did Mark Gatiss, an openly gay man, a writer of the show, allow this to happen? Why are millions of fans all over the world allowing all this to go on?!

6. Conclusion

Now I haven’t read the books yet, so I’m not at all qualified to criticize the adaptation quality of the TV series; I’m just talking about the TV series on its own. Despite my criticism, I think the first two seasons did quite okay. There are quite a few nice cases there, I like The Blind Banker and The Hound of Baskerville. They did those well because the focus was on the cases themselves, and the connection between John and Sherlock was only in the background. I, like many other fans, like to figure things out on my own, to read between the lines, and to not have things spelled out for me. With the next seasons bombarded with Sherlock and John bonding it seriously felt like mere fan service for me and even though I wasn’t there when the show was on, I still felt like I was robbed and my interest in the show was abused.

Sherlock is undoubtedly super influential in pop culture even now. It has to have done something right to be in that spot (capitalizing off loyal fans?). I’m not writing this rant to change someone’s mind about the series, by all means, I’m still gonna love the hell out of Gavin Lestrade, and absolutely lose my mind over Mary Watson. So do take my words with a grain of salt, I’m just disappointed that one of the most influential shows there is is just short of my expectations.

#sherlock #bbc sherlock #rant #criticism

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astrovian · 3 years

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the official ranking of RA photoshoot outfits (pt. 1)

as @dykethorin said when I first proposed doing this particular ranking, “Some real Decisions™️ were made” with these shoots y’all

all photoshoot outfits (for part one) under the cut

the official ranking of Daniel Miller outfits here

the official ranking of Adam Price outfits here

the official ranking of Claude Becker outfits here

guys, I’m crying with laughter

hey quick question: what the fuck was this photoshoot??? (and also I need current RA in these poses)

it’s real nice to see a fun, loosey-goosey RA (before he established himself in the broody-character archetype) but there are so many questionable fashion choices here

when I started this list I had two options:

1) allow some leeway to the older photoshoots because, let’s be real, the early 2000s were an atrocious time for fashion that a lot of us would most rather forget we participated in

2) judge them by today’s standards, which is harsh but some of these outfits deserve it

naturally, I chose option #2

It’s so hard to even pick where to start. the too-loose pants? the ill-fitting suit jacket? The untucked dress shirt that is for some god-forsaken reason undone in two separate directions??

I have chosen one thing that sums the outfit up as a whole: what monster decided to put the shirt collar over the suit jacket????

the jazz hands scream “hey I’m a FUN guy” but the suit screams “I’m the yo-pro asshole at the office who is so unreliable you’re pretty sure some nepotism must surely have had an influence during the hiring process”

I originally said ‘I guess we should be glad there’s no surfer necklace’ but then I had the horrifying realisation that it’s a 50/50 shot as to whether that would improve this outfit or make it worse. and you know when there’s even slimmest chance a surfer necklace could improve an outfit somehow that it’s time to take a good hard look at yourself

1/10 just because this photoshoot made me genuinely laugh out loud

wait I’m sorry, what-

how on god’s green earth is this the same photoshoot (?) as guys, I’m crying with laughter????

the great thing about these lists is that you are getting my genuine reactions as I progress down the images. I had no idea this was the same photoshoot (?) until approximately 10 seconds after writing guys, I’m crying with laughter

this perfectly encapsulates the duality of man – one moment it’s all goofy jazz hands and the next it’s a hunk-of-the-week moment

this man and guys, I’m crying with laughter are the equivalent of looking at pictures of yourself in high school vs. in your 20s/30s/at your prime. the whiplash is insane

and why is he in front of barred windows?? it appears they were afraid of what would happen if this hunk escaped into the general population

I still can’t believe they kept the collar over the suit jacket though

I’m so conflicted guys, the urge to numerically rank this terrible outfit is strong but uh… as per usual shirtless ones aren’t fair/10

revenge of the killer surfer necklace

do you ever look back at a specific moment in time and are so thankful that someone took one tiny action? one small thing they did in the heat of the moment that probably seemed innocuous at the time but had far-reaching consequences? for example, it might something as simple as deciding to take a umbrella on a bright sunny day only for it to be extremely useful on the way home when the weather turns

this is how I feel about the person who decided RA could leave that top button closed for this shoot

if you squint, you can see the surfer necklace under that top button. and thank god you have to squint

this is such an early 2000s look though. that shirt by itself is fine and would actually look killer with a properly fitted suit nowadays. it’s the shirt dress and loose denim look with makes no sense to me

2/10 for a pretty uninspiring early 2000s outfit

revenge of the uh…

from the same shoot as revenge of the killer surfer necklace this loses .1 of a mark for adding a jacket, while pretty innocuous, to an already busy outfit

1.9/10

were we really that afraid of legs?

why were we, as a society, so obsessed with loose, ill-fitting pants? why were we so desperate to conceal legs from the general population? what secrets were we trying to hide? I understand the comfort factor on the hand, but on the other did anyone actually have eyes

the sneakers/suit combo I can definitely live with. but those pants (that I’m convinced must be pyjama pants in another life) turns it all into a sloppy, blurry mess

2.7/10

is it a bird? is it a plane? no, it’s… a floating RA?

what is it about photoshoots in the early 2000s where they just make no damn sense. it’s my opinion that the theme/concept of a shoot should not overshadow the subject, and that’s the correct opinion (as well as being the exact opposite as to what’s happening here)

maybe there was a hint or reason as to why floating wizard RA exists in the article that this shoot presumably came with, but I don’t get it. clearly I’m far too literal of a person and need to embrace my inner artist

looks pretty, still weird

moving on the entire point of this post, the outfit, I uh,… oh god

I’m pretty sure this the same (and similar, if not) outfit RA wore in the North & South behind-the-scenes, and how we as a society went from John Thornton’s stiff collar and top hat to this is amazing

maybe we were so obsessed with period dramas back then because it was a nice alternative to indulge our eyes in when we had to face the harsh, cold reality of modern fashion at the time

anyway – trust me, while I am all for a man in a necklace, let’s pray surfer necklaces never come back 2.9/10

I genuinely was looking up “pinstriped jacket jokes” because I couldn’t think of anything off the top of my head but then I realised I don’t need a joke here because pinstriped jackets are a joke all by themselves

I feel like there may be a situation where pinstriped suit jackets might grow on me, but this is not that situation

also I don’t really know where I stand on the belt, but I certainly think I’m leaning towards the ‘why’ part of the scale. if you’re gonna make a belt that prominent in a photoshoot, at least make it a fun belt

3/10

I’m noticing a trend in these photoshoots and it’s these horrific backgrounds

I will admit that the non-patterned suit jacket is going with the jeans a lot better here. but now that my attention isn’t focused on that, all I can see are the dress shoes. WHY DID YOU PUT DRESS SHOES WITH STRAIGHT-LEGGED JEANS???

please someone I am begging you, can we as a society get to tapered jeans already

3.3/10

did RA genuinely ever get put into any clothes that actually fitted him properly at this point in time?

look, I know I’ve been picking on the bootcut jeans & loose attire that plagued us in the early 2000s (or 2006, to be specific to this photoshoot). what can I say, it’s the low-hanging fruit. or loose-hanging, as the case may be

I do appreciate that rich brown leather jacket and that smile. but that’s where it stops. someone take dress shirts and dress shoes away from bootcut denim PLEASE

3.5/10

this is the bad-boy from your hometown in every rom-com ever

as with well this in an interesting development that I can’t say I disapprove of below, the lower rating is simply because from what we can see, it’s just a plain shirt. however, that dipped v-neck? mm-mmm

look at that smirk. this man knows what he’s doing to us, dammit.

why do you persist in hurting us this way 4/10

well this in an interesting development that I can��t say I disapprove of

god bless the person who said we need this shirt wet and clinging and only half-soaked

I’m so sad that I have to give this such a low ranking because uh… we’ve established I have a weakness for those biceps

this does also get bonus points for the creativity of “only this portion of your shirt needs to be wet for your close-up” but at the end of the day it is a solitary grey t-shirt even if it is floating in an attractive sea of muscles

4.5/10

the photographer really said ‘who gives a crap about the clothes’, huh?

an interesting shirt! but as much as I love RA’s face, we should be able to see more of the shirt (and the outfit) because uh… it’s hard to make a judgement call on a photoshoot outfit without that

also, it’s just so hard to concentrate on some of these with RA staring into my soul like that

*sigh* 4.6/10

hello sir, are you as kinky as your shirt?

this is one of the few occasions on which I will give the bootleg baggy jeans a pass. interesting choice to go shoeless for all outfits in this shoot – but the way the shirt is all crumpled is annoying me an incessant amount. I am begging you, someone pass this stylist an ironing board PLEASE

4.7/10 for a crinkle-cut RA

all that’s missing is the beer cans

I’m not sure of the short sleeves here. I think with the shirt open as well my brain doesn’t know where to look

HOWEVER, this is an RA from the early 2000s that I can get behind – largely because he’s not drowning in his denim

the nice, plain belt which matches with the shirt? excellent

interesting choice to go with the bare feet – this entire look (and the quality of that concrete floor) screams ‘we’re chilling at a summer party in your parent’s basement in the early 2000s’ if not for one thing – that couch is way too nice looking. am I being too pedantic about this? no. If you’re gonna go for the whole basement party look, you need a couch that’s falling apart and has at least one questionable stain on it

that being said, I would hang out in this man’s basement

it’s a shirtless one so once again, I cannot give a numerical answer/10

I’m not sure if this man is dangerous or is just an idiot

they may have been wanting RA to embrace his inner Daniel Miller here but that is NOT a jacket that should have its collar popped or if it is, it definitely should not be popped that much. just turn the intensity of that pop down by… at least 35%

this look is telling me to embrace my inner lacy, ruffled collar that men in England used to wear around the 1500 - 1600s. I hate it and refute it with every part of my soul

this is what happens when you embrace your inner Daniel a little bit too much 5.6/10

the return of the leg monster

not much to say about this except once again we are terrified to put RA’s legs into well-fitted pants. what secrets are hiding underneath those voluminous billows? will we ever know?

5.8/10

the one that crushed my hopes and dreams and then spat on my corpse

so I admit it, I got really excited because I thought that this was a leopard print shirt and I was like “this is something I did NOT know that I needed until right now”, even if I would argue that it could have been nice in a little bit of a brighter colour. no matter, I thought it was a nice subtle addition to this plain suit and was just very excited at the prospect of RA rocking leopard print even though I almost always hate leopard print in single every form it comes in

and then. upon zooming. a disappointing paisley. sorry, paisley lovers. I hate it

I would also argue here that the pocket square would have been nice in a plain, bright colour rather than another patterned item thrown into the mix. come on stylists, stop letting me down with your pocket squares

also if there is a point where a suit can be too shiny, I think we’ve found it. I could wax floors with that fabric and I’d rather be thinking about RA’s talent & good looks rather than imagining him being used as a human mop

the hand porn is uh… strong with this one 6/10

the hand porn one

the ring is a nice subtle touch but I can’t decide where I stand on this tie. for me, the checks are just a *wee* tad too small. so small that it I’m scared it will turn into one of those optical illusions with a number in it if I stare at it the tie for too long

the pocket square could also have not tried so hard to blend in with the rest of the suit jacket. give me some colour, baby!

Richard really needs to put his hand down so I can actually concentrate on the clothes 6.5/10

I’m just dotty for this one (I’m so sorry y’all)

so suave. so shiny. I wanna stroke that fabric so bad, it looks so soft

the dots bring a nice yet understated touch to a monotone outfit and GOOD LORD those thighs

they just had to pose him like this to torture us, I’m convinced. also they call him a “commanding gentleman” in the subtitle which is really just unnecessary to verbalise when he’s sitting like this

Someone put me in a rom-com with this man 7.2/10

the modern magician (at least he ain’t floating this time)

I know that the hat should be the focus of this shoot but I can’t get over those shoes

tangentially related, I have never understood why they make men’s dress shoes so excessively long and pointed. these certainly aren’t a good example of this but uh… I don’t understand why men’s dress shoes are clown shoes

I think part of what’s throwing me off is the sockless look. normally I can handle (and even love) it with some shoes but there’s something about the hem of those jeans and those shoes that turn them into slippers when worn sockless

I love the two-tone scarf but what really excites me is the plaid shirt that we can barely see. I’m eternally sad that they had RA hid it in this pose. and also, come one. you could’ve at least gotten a chair with an actual back to it. that can’t be good for his back at all

the one bonus of this outfit is the hat because when do we ever get RA in hats?? and hats that aren’t baseball caps?? a nice, rare touch. but also one which hides most of that face so…

can we talk about the fact that my gut tells me those jean cuffs have been deliberately turned up at the front and all I want in life is to reach into this image and flip them down 7.5/10

*pterodactyl noises*

holy macaroni. that demin shirt. and this shirt’s even a nice lighter denim colour??? and the v-neck?? SIR

I know he’s worn some faux-denim shirts in the last few years (see: Uncle Vanya rehearsal pics) but as outerwear? knocked it out of the park in this one

also I know this is a shirt not a jacket, but this shirt made me think about how I never realised how much I needed RA in jean jackets until today

It could be argued that a nice crew neck cut would work slightly better than the v-neck but that’s really a personal choice

a lovely respite for my weary eyes 7.7/10

a truly, truly blessed image. the sort of image that would bring you endless good luck

I know I’ve given a lot of pants crap on this list but these. these are the ones. these are doing the lord’s work for sure. and god bless the person who decided to shoot from this particular side angle.

and then the shirt?? I’m honestly afraid it may rip if he moves. I could leave or take the tie though. it’s not adding a whole lot to this outfit and I would much rather that shirt be uh… open at the top for a glimpse of uh… well. you know.

this RA outfit laughs in the face of all those early 2000s RA outfits 8.1/10

me running to open my phone every time an RA-related notification pops up

my only sadness is that this shoot was in black & white. we need more action-shot RA shoots!

also the subtle plaid?? *chef’s kiss*

well, I said ‘my only sadness’ but is it also me or are both ends of that tie strangely square? that is throwing me off from an otherwise spectacular photoshoot outfit, I won’t lie

8.5/10 for a man of action

this is what we all like to think we look on the way to work. hate to break it to ya - we don’t

god, that wind-ruffled hair. the rustic look provided by both the suit material & the photo editing. that stare over the top of that coffee mug. the casual ‘I just picked up the paper on my way out this morning’

words fail me

would it be weird if I said I would pay money to be able to run my hands through anyone’s hair that looks as soft and wind-swept as that 8.9/10

the comfiest RA

I love. love. love this outfit, especially the sweater. the pant colour goes extremely well with this one and I’m so glad they didn’t just stick him in jeans. the is the softest, comfiest RA and I love it. this is an RA who you can simultaneously share a beer and takeaway with at home, cuddling up on the sofa while you watch a film, as well as an RA who will take you out to eat fancy pasta at an upscale restaurant.

the choice of sitting on a stool is also great. my only real gripe here is the watch (and even that’s a minor one, really). the watch isn’t THAT bad, but it’s chunky face reminds me slightly of the watches boys in my class would wear in middle school. the watch could be a *wee wee tad* slicker, but really, I’m nitpicking here (and this is the only time I will admit to it)

the more I look at it, the more this becomes one of my fav RA pics. the slight smile. the relaxed pose. the hint of hand porn

weirdly, for some reason this picture gives me the exact same comfy and ‘just chilling out’ feeling as when I hear the song “Kiss Me” by Sixpence None the Richer 9.5/10

#richard armitage #yes this is a multi-part one because uh... there's a lot of photoshoots guys #also yes most of the early 2000s ones ended up at the bottom and I refuse to apologise for that

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emilyofjane · 3 years

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Why the Disney Princesses definitely need therapy: a Hot Take

Snow White

Losing her parents as a child and having to learn to take care of herself at a very young age (Snow White is 14 in the movie, and judging by her work ethic, she appears to at least have some experience with living independently before moving in with the 7 dwarves)

Lack of socialization due to isolation

Depression due to isolation and loneliness. This makes the whole “Someday My Prince Will Come” thing much more believable, because Snow White really isn’t in any sort of immediate danger and doesn’t need “saving” or whatever; she’s just tired of being alone and wants human companionship. (And tbh who can blame her? The poor girl’s literally talking to birds and moved in with the first group of humanoid creatures she could find ffs)

This one’s a bit of a stretch, but I’m pretty sure Snow White would also have an unhealthy fear of strangers and/or an irrational fear of being poisoned after the whole apple fiasco

Cinderella

Being raised in an abusive home environment for most (if not virtually all) of her life

The complete lack of positive social interaction throughout her life has probably led to problems with social withdrawal and isolation at some point, and I wouldn’t be surprised if she has repressed symptoms of chronic depression due to loneliness.

Her closest emotional confidants are literally two talking mice, and that just screams “My only friends are animals because their love is unconditional I’ve been invalidated and unloved by every human being in my life” (aka extreme emotional neglect)

She probably has tons of questions about her biological parents that were never answerd because, again, her stepfamily hated her, which would obviously lead to some emotional baggage

If we consider Cinderella III: A Twist in Time to be the new canon, she definitely has some unresolved PTSD from her near-death experience (the “almost getting crushed to death in the carriage because it was transforming back into a pumpkin” scene)

Aurora

Existential crisis because the three fairy godmothers basically rewrote her entire identity as “Rose” and hid the fact that she was a princess

Never knowing who her real parents were as a child, leading to emotional baggage similar to that of Cinderella and Snow White mentioned above

Either the emotional burden of having to make up for 16+ years of lost time with her biological family, or the grief of losing her biological family without ever getting the chance to know them (idk whether Aurora actually got to meet her parents by the end of the movie or if they died before she woke up, because I don’t remember exactly how much time had passed while she was in the coma)

Speaking of the spindle prick-induced magical coma (which is a really long-winded and inefficient way to kill someone honestly, idk what Melificent was thinking), Aurora also has to deal with the emotional burden of how much time has passed while she was in a coma, which would only further feed into the existential crisis and emotional trauma in bullet points 1 and 3.

(Also, off the record, but Aurora’s entire life post-movie is just a hot fucking mess and she really deserves a second movie exploring that concept imo. I know that Sleeping Beauty has already gotten a live-action villain spinoff, but the story of Aurora herself really deserves to be reexamined under a modern lens also. Aurora is easily one of the most overlooked Disney princesses and tbh she deserves more love.)

Belle (feat. the expanded lore from the live-action movie)

Witnessing her mother die from the plague in their own home

Being forceed to move from the more culturally progressive city of Paris to the unnamed “poor provential town” in the movie, where she is clearly the odd one out and is subject to gender inequality on a daily basis (in the form of being publically shamed and socially ostacized for being an educated woman)

Being regularly sexually harassed by Gaston, which is further exacerbated by the villagers and their close-mindedness. Not only is Gaston’s behavior enabled and encouraged by the villagers, but they even go so far as to idolize Gaston — as shown during his namesake song — despite his obviously predatory actions, simply because he is a cishet white man that they find conventionally attractive

Watching her father get arrested despite being 100% innocent...TWICE

Also being arrested when her father is wrongly convicted a second time, by none other than her abuser

Watching her lover — who besides her parents was the first person in her life who truly loved her and respected her intellect despite being a woman — nearly die in her arms, as well as everyone else in the castle (who ALSO respected her regardless of her gender) nearly die at the same exact time.

...And you know, Stockholm Syndrome or whatever. (But tbh, given how everyone in the castle was very kind and respectful and how the Beast was a tsundere at best, Belle would probably suffer far more from PTSD brought upon by Gaston and her previous environment than from “Stockholm Syndrome” in a castle where everyone actually treated her like a normal fucking human being. Unpopular opinion I know but as a sexual assault survivor this is literally a hill I will die on.)

Jasmine

I’ve actually never watched Aladdin all the way through, so unfortunately I can’t give a full analysis of Jasmine’s conflicts...but I have seen that gif of her saying “I am not a prize to be won” and that just screams “I’ve suffered a lifetime of female objectification and gender inequality despite my social status, and not even in the highest position of authority possible am I allowed to have a voice” and idk about you but that is really fucked up man

Ariel

PTSD from being manipulated by Ursula to give up her voice and nearly losing everything (both her previous life in the ocean and the promise of a new life on land with her love interest) because of it

Near-death experience from *vague hand gesture to whatever the fuck that was at the end of the movie*

Inevitable depression from abandoning the only home she’s ever known (the ocean) and leaving her friends and family behind

She’ll probably also need some form of behavioral therapy to help her adjust to her new home on land, whose culture is still extremely foreign to her — and maybe even additional therapy for social anxiety, given how her first 3 days of human interaction were so mortifyingly embarrassing that she’ll probably be laying wide awake at 3 AM and thinking “oh my god I can’t believe I looked Eric’s parents dead in the eyes and brushed my hair with a dinner fork” for the next 10 years.

Tiana

PTSD from literally being turned into a frog

Overworking herself to the point of near burnout, and being unable to fully live out her prime adult years because of said burnout

Constantly dealing with shitty customers, bosses, and other white-collared people disrespecting her and treating her as subhuman because of her career choice, which is unfortunately a common shared experience among restaurant workers and those who work hourly wages

Since this movie takes place in the United States presumably before the 1960’s, it’s probably safe to assume that Tiana also probably had to deal with segregation, Jim Crow laws, and other forms of racism off-screen on a daily basis, which would obviously take a toll on her mental well-being and further exacerbate the issues mentioned in #3

Grief from losing her dad, which has likely been repressed due to her workaholic tendencies denying her the ability to properly take the time to mourn

I don’t even know what to categorize the whole witch doctor shenanigans as, I just know that she and Naveen are both going to need some SERIOUS therapy after going through all that shit

Rapunzel

Being raised in an emotionally abusive and controlling environment for her entire life

Being completely isolated for 18 years with no social interaction whatsoever with anyone except her own abuser

Existential/identity crisis from discovering that she’s actually a princess, that her “mom” was actually the one who kidnapped her as a baby and tried to cut her hair, and that everything she knew about herself and the world she lived in was essentially a lie to keep her obedient to Gothel

Near-death experience (the drowning scene)

Internalized fear and mistrust in strangers — and quite possibly in people in general — due to Gothel’s lifelong warnings that people in the outside world would only want to take advantage of her

Watching the woman who raised her MERCILESSLY STAB THE ONLY OTHER PERSON SHE EVER KNEW AND LOVED IN THE GODDAMN CHEST

Watching the woman who raised her LITERALLY CRUMBLE TO DUST IN FRONT OF HER VERY EYES

WATCHING FLYNN, THE ONLY OTHER PERSON SHE EVER KNEW AND LOVED BESIDES HER GODDAMN ABUSER, FUCKING DIE RIGHT IN FRONT OF HER before she miraculously healed him

Because Flynn’s revival was such an uncanny revival that not even Rapunzel knew how she did it, she obviously thought he was gone for good...and since Gothel was gone also, there must’ve been at least a split second before she healed Flynn where, for the first time in her entire life, she was completely and utterly alone. That alone deserves to be a bullet point because holy shit

I’m not even going to get into Tangled: the Series man this list is getting too long as it is

Elsa

Losing her parents at a young age

Abandonment and isolation issues (mostly self-inflicted due to her own fear of hurting others, see #3)

Internalized fear and self-doubt of her powers — and, by extension, fear and self-doubt in herself

Guilt from nearly plunging Arendelle into an eternal winter

Guilt from almost losing her sister (twice!) due to her own direct actions

(Coinciding with #3) Guilt from isolating herself from her sister to protect her, only to nearly get her killed by the very thing she was trying to protect her from

Anxiety. Just lots and lots of general anxiety.

(Omitting Frozen 2 for Elsa because I haven’t seen it yet and this list is getting too long)

Anna

Also losing her parents at a young age

Abandonment and isolation issues, but hers are moreso due to Elsa “shutting her out” as a kid and having no one else her age in the castle to interact with

Lack of socialization in general for much of her childhood, as well as any social anxieties/lack of social knowledge and etiquette/etc. that would come with it

Abusive relationship with Hans (I know it was only one day, but holy fuck that was a trainwreck. What Hans did to Anna is a literal breeding ground for PTSD and trauma)

Coming to terms with the fact that the trolls fucking erased her memories of Elsa having ice powers and that Elsa isolated herself to protect her (and not, you know, because she hated her or something)

Leftover guilt from holding a grudge against Elsa for most of her childhood for shutting her out, because NO ONE BOTHERED TO TELL HER THAT IT WAS FOR HER OWN GOOD and she never knew why

Basically Anna and Elsa both need joint therapy or family counseling or something because holy shit their parents did NOT handle this situation properly AT ALL

(Also omitting Frozen 2 for Anna because I haven’t seen it and this list is also getting too long)

Moana

Surprisingly, Moana’s movie was relatively tame — in fact, because her tribe returned to voyaging and she is now exploring the seas/following her passion, these events were arguably beneficial to Moana’s mental health rather than detrimental. The only emotional baggage I can really imagine Moana having post-movie is leftover grief from her grandma dying and maybe the stress of having to put up with Maui’s shit

#shitpost #meta #disney characters #disney princess #long post #this has been in my drafts for literally a year so i may as well post it

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neokids · 3 years

Text

Fortune's Fool: Act VII

Masterlist

Act VII

Tw: Lots of blood, character death, violence, murder, guns, knives, weapons, foul language, self-inflicted wounds, suicide, overall graphic content

In just a span of a few days, whispers have already spread. At first, it was only suspicions that it wasn’t something natural or a person but the bible repeating itself. People started to believe that it was something like 10 the plagues of Egypt, this time happening in Seoul.

Then people started to see things.

Couples who had their afternoon strolls reported seeing a slimy creature dive into the Han river. Some Viper workers said they had heard low growling and grumbling noises they thought came from the machines, but when they turned it off, the bizarre noises only grew louder. Fishermen who worked late at night reported to see silver flashing eyes in the water. Perhaps the most terrible “sighting” would have been near the Poculum. A customer was passing by with the intentions of having a drink late at night only to see a panting, struggling creature near the garbage disposal. It was unnatural for sure, the shadow it cast resembled nothing like the creatures and animals that walk the face of the earth today.

“It has eyes of the devil, mama!” Yeji heard the little boy in front of her exclaim. They were currently waiting in line to get hot buns from a fast food restaurant. Yeji watched the boy as he excitedly told his story to his mother, guessing he had heard it from a playmate. “The monster had a spine as sharp as knives” The boy added, causing his mother to look at him disinterestedly. There have been numerous deaths added from the original incident, causing people to speculate. But the more people talked, the more the truth has been twisted.

Yeji would have brushed off the rumors, ruling it as a way to keep children frightened when they were being unruly. But the fear people have been feeling is very real, their lives were in danger. There must be a reason to why people had started talking, speculating.

“Nonsense.” The mother scolded her child, as she fiddled with her bracelet. The mother was obviously scared as well, hearing her son's stories did not help whatsoever.

“They say it is like a modern day dragon!” the boy added, not even bothering to listen to his mother, “It attacks the gangsters at night when it smells their blood. It hides in the shadows, waiting for the perfect time, then boom! It attacks.” The child said, his hand motions accompanying his exaggerated story.

The mother could only look and sigh at her son, “It is not only the gangsters who are dying, nae adeul,” The mother paused, looking at his now terrified son. “No one is safe now.” She continued as she placed a hand on her son’s shoulder.

That’s one comforting mother alright,

The son suddenly stopped in his tracks. He looked at his mother, fear replacing the jolly expression he had before. “Am I going to die, mama?” The boy asked.

“Of course not.” The mother said in a defensive tone. She quickly got the two bags filled with steaming buns in front of her and left, with her son still quite scared.

Who wouldn’t be in a time like this?

As they left, Yeji couldn’t help but stare at their disappearing figures. A child, no older than five, was already worrying about whether or not he would live another day. A child like him should be worrying about what flavor of ice cream he should get, or what he should play with his friends. He shouldn’t fear for his life. How much time did they have left until the city of Seoul became nothing but a mass graveyard?

“On us, miss.”

Yeji snapped out from her train of thought to see a bag already in front of her, filled to the brim with steaming hot buns.

“Everything for the princess of Seoul.” The old baker said with a smile. Yeji took a better look at the place, then at the old man in front of her. The bakery was very old, to the point where you could see loose wires everywhere. The man in front of her was also very old, it looked like the bakery was all he had. The only reason why Yeji was here in the first place was because Lia wouldn’t stop bugging her about trying the famous steam buns in Hongdae.

“You have a family, ahjussi?” Yeji asked as she took the bag, the man’s face lighting up immediately.

“I do! I have a lovely wife I come home to everyday and five children! Two girls and three boys!” The baker answered as he perched his elbows on the window.

“I see,” Yeji paused as she took something out from her pocket, it was a red envelope with gold lettering. The man’s face grew in shock. “No miss Hwang, it is in the house! We have been affiliated with the Vipers for a long time now and I owe everything to them. Please it is okay.” The man said as he pushed the envelope back.

“No, please do take it. You have worked hard enough.” Yeji said as she placed the envelope in the baker’s calloused hands. With a smile, Yeji left.

As she browsed the streets of Hongdae, she couldn’t help but let out a breath of relief. She was relieved she was able to have a few hours to herself. She had just finished visiting the drug den her father had sent her to, and it was more boring than she thought. She expected a top secret lab, like the ones she would always see in movies. Only for her to be greeted with a smelly and sketchy apartment. When she had collected the money, the man passed it to her half-asleep, he too looked high on whatever he was on that moment. She had only been there for a solid 30 seconds and her duty was done for the day. Hongdae was filled with lovers taking their strolls, family spending some quality time together, friends on dates, and native weirdos too.

“The end is near! The world is going to end! Jeremiah 11:11! There is only one cure!”

Yeji grimaced as she tried to quickly pass the man. She tried to cover her face in hopes of not getting seen by the shouting man, but to her misfortune, the man had locked his eyes on her. The man started to head her way as she quickened her pace. She thought he had lost the man following her, only for him to suddenly jump in front of her.

Does this man not know who I am?

“Salvation!” The man screeched, causing Yeji to freeze in her tracks. The man flailed his arms in the air, as if he was waiting for someone to pick him up. “Spread the word of salvation, miss!” He exclaimed as he took another step towards her.

Yeji was quick to back away, she was getting weirded out by the old man, “I’m not that religious, sorry.” She decided unsure on what to say, the man’s eyes suddenly grew wider until it could pop out from his socket anytime.

“The doctor can give us a cure.” He said. “I’m not quite sure a doctor has found a cure yet,” Yeji said carefully.

“The doctor saved me!” The man further added. This time, Yeji wasn’t sure if he was referring to doctors, or a particular doctor.

“Hey you know what, a doctor saved me too.” she said as she placed her hands on her hip. “I was like what, seven years old?” she continued, amusing herself now. “I bumped my head on my mother’s picture frame and let’s just say she was worried more about the picture frame.” She said, remembering it like it was yesterday. “Ever since then, I started eating apples.” Yeji said as she looked at the man, waiting for him to catch her joke.

“Because you know…” She trailed off, the man only looking at her in a blank manner. “An apple a day, keeps the doctor away!”

The old man only stared at her. He looked at her like she was speaking some sort of foreign language no an on earth had ever heard of.

“Corny joke?” Yeji asked, speaking Korean a bit more slowly for the man to understand. “Come on, an apple a day keeps the doctor away, right? Come on, I deserve a chuckle at least.”

The man groaned and stomped his foot, signaling for her to take him seriously.

“The doctor is only one person.” he hissed, his face contorting into a weird facial expression Yeji couldn’t quite figure out. “A person of great passion. He gave me the cure and I am now immune to this madness. An injection! I am supposed to be dead! When my friend had clawed himself and lay dead next to me, I should have been next! But I am here! Alive and well!”

Yeji took another step back, one she should have taken before the man had started talking.

“Good for you,” Yeji said, thinking of an escape plan. “But I, uh, have places to be.” Before she could turn around, the man had already grabbed her wrist.

“Salvation!” The man screamed, “Only the doctor could bring salvation!” She quickly jerked her hand back away from the man as she hurried off.

She took sharp turns every now and then, making her route in a dark alleyway. She passed by groups of men who seemed like they were all ready to kidnap the next person they see. She passed by men throwing knives at each other, she also passed by a group of women aiming their guns at each other, but she was not scared. She was in her territory, she was above all.

Just as she was in the middle of another alleyway, Yeji immediately stopped to the feeling of a cold metal pressed against her neck. She knew it wasn’t a threat of any Viper, no Viper dared. Her mind ran wild, thinking of all the possible people who would try such thing,

Until a familiar voice had said: “Don’t make a sound. Keep walking, and I won’t shoot.”

The feeling of uncertainty immediately was replaced by the feeling of rage. Did he really wait for Yeji to enter an isolated place? Until she was far from the crowd? Did he really think that would work on her?

“You don’t know me as much as I thought you would.” Yeji said quietly, maybe Jeno didn’t know her at all when they were still friends. Maybe he never really cared to know about her. Maybe he just agreed to be friends to get information from her, and he did.

“Walk,” Jeno demanded.

Yeji stood still. As she planned, Jeno thought she was scared and so he eased the press of his gun against her neck. She slowly brought her hand to trace Jeno’s gun, her sudden caress took him by surprise. From his gun, her hand trailed to his own. Touching his long fingers, to his prominent veins. Her touch was light and held no danger whatsoever,

Or so he thought.

She whirled around, faster than Jeno could even process. In a blink of an eye, she had already slapped the gun from his grip causing it to drop on the floor somewhere. She had bent his arm in a way no arm should be bent. She had him quickly pinned to floor, her legs on both sides of his hips with a knife pressed to his throat.

“Let’s try this again, shall we? Like normal civilized people.” She breathed. Jeno too was trying his hardest not to breathe too much, or else his throat would come in contact with the knife. His dilated eyes narrowed at her, as he took a breath.

“Normal civilized people?” He mocked her tone, his voice a bit raspy. “You have a knife pressed against my throat.”

“You had a gun pressed against my neck.”

“Does it look like I have a choice? I’m in your territory.”

Yeji glared at him as she pressed the knife further into his skin causing a drop of blood to appear.

“Stop! Stop!” Jeno flinched. “I’m sorry.”

With one quick motion, Yeji could have sliced his neck open. She had been dreaming of this for four years, she was almost tempted to give it a try. Although she was fighting all thoughts she had of killing him, one thought had crept up in her mind.

Jeno still smelled like he used too. He smelled like smoke and mint, with a hint of his perfume. Noticing this particular detail made Yeji think how possible it was for everything and nothing to change.

“Well go ahead then,” Yeji prompted, “Explain yourself.”

She could feel Jeno trying to fight, but with one press of her blade, he would stop. She could track his every movement just from the tip of her blade.

“I needed information,” Jeno managed.

“Surprisingly.”

His eyebrow arched, “If you let me go, I could explain.”

“Well let’s see…” Yeji said, pretending to think. “How about no? I prefer if you explained like this.”

“Oh, Yeji”

Click.

The sound of someone pressing the trigger echoed all throughout the alleyway. Yeji looked to her left to see the gun she had disabled a while go still in its position. She looked back on Jeno to see him smile, his smile was almost mocking.

“Did you really think I would only bring one?” He asked in a teasing manner. “You don’t know me as much as I thought you would.” He added, mocking her. Famous eye smile a contrast to his actions.

The feeling of cold hard metal suddenly touched her waist. It was as if the gun had started to burn through her clothes and made its imprint on her skin. With no choice, Yeji had to remove her knife against Jeno’s kneck. They both stood up and in unison, put their weapons away.

“The man who died in the Poculum,” Jeno began as he dusted his polo shirt. “Do you remember his mismatched shoes?”

Yeji rolled her eyes, she couldn’t believe she was actually having this conversation with the Jeno Lee, then nodded.

“I found the other shoe in the Han river the other day, the same spot where the first men had died,” He continued, “I think he was able to escape, only succumbing to the madness the next day, in your club.”

“Impossible!” Yeji denied, “What kind of science is–”

“This is no longer in the fields of science, Yeji.”

Her hands had quickly balled into fists, bunching up her blouse in the process. Jeno was really on a whole other level of stubbornness when he was focused on something. She let out a sigh as she closed her eyes,

“What do you want?” She asked, opening them again to see Jeno’s serious expression.

“I need to know whether or not if he is indeed the same man. I need to see his shoes, see if they match, if they do, this madness might be even contagious.”

Contagious,

Meaning to say that the man who had died in her club, his blood spraying in a room filled with her people, might be infectious. If that was the case, the Viper Gang is in huge trouble.

Yeji’s panic started to kick in.

“Maybe they were in some type of cult,” Yeji suggested without much persuasion. “Maybe he didn’t want to be apart of whatever they were doing, only for him to decide that he actually wanted to a day later.” But she had seen the terror of the man during his last few moments, he couldn’t speak but his eyes told everything Yeji needed to know.

Oh dear God she knelt beside the man, looked him in the eyes, and asked him what caused it. What were the chances of her getting infected?

“You and I both know that something’s not right here.” Jeno said, breaking Yeji’s small panic attack. “By the time this has alerted departments, many more innocent people will have died.”

Jeno accidentally realized what he had said, causing him to fall silent. Yeji stared at him for a while, her gaze blank, void with any emotion.

“As if you care,” She said quietly, almost inaudible. But he still heard her. “About innocent people dying.” She looked away from him in case he could see the slight water in her eyes.

Every muscle in his body tensed.

He inhaled sharply, “Fine,” he paused, “My people.”

Hearing it from him definitely felt worse. She let out her breath she didn’t know she was holding and turned around.

“Move.” She said, walking away. Only this once would she allow herself to help him, she needed the answers too. “The morgue closes in a few hours.”

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dwellordream · 3 years

Text

“...Because if we want to ask “What was life as a woman like in Sparta?” we really need to ask “What was life like as a helot woman?” because they represent c. 85% of all of our women and c. 42.5% of all of our humans. And I want to stress the importance of this question, because there are more helot women in Sparta than there are free humans in Sparta (as from last time, around 15% of Sparta is free – men and women both included – but 42.5% of Sparta consists of enslaved helot women). If we want to say absolutely anything about the condition of life in Sparta, we simply cannot ignore such a large group of human beings living in Sparta.

...The primary economic occupation of helot women was probably in food preparation and textile production. And if I know my students, I know that the moment I start talking about the economic role of women in ancient households, a very specific half of the class dozes off. Wake Up. There is an awful tendency to see this ‘women’s work’ as somehow lesser or optional. These tasks I just listed are not economically marginal, they are not unimportant. Yes, our ancient sources devalue them, but we should not.

First: let’s be clear – women in ancient households (or early modern households, or modern households) were not idle. They had important jobs every bit as important as the farming, which had to get done for the family to survive. I’ve estimated elsewhere that it probably takes a minimum of something like 2,220 hours per year to produce the minimum necessary textile goods for a household of five (that’s 42 hours a week spinning and weaving, every week). Most of that time is spent spinning raw fibers (either plant fibers from flax to make linen, or animal fibers from sheep to make wool). The next step after that is weaving those threads into fabric. Both weaving and spinning are slow, careful and painstaking exercises.

Food preparation is similarly essential, as you might imagine. As late as 1900, food preparation and cleanup consumed some 44 hours per week on average in American households, plus another 14 hours dedicated to laundry and cleaning (Lebergott, Pursuing Happiness (1993)). So even without child rearing – and ask any parent, there is a TON of work in that – a small peasant household (again, five members) is going to require something like 100 hours per week of ‘woman’s work’ merely to sustain itself.

Now, in a normal peasant household, that work will get split up between the women of the house at all ages. Girls will typically learn to spin and weave at very young ages, at first helping out with the simpler tasks before becoming fully proficient (but of course, now add ‘training time’ as a job requirement for their mothers). But at the same time (see Erdkamp, The Grain Market in the Roman Empire (2005) on this) women often also had to engage in agricultural labor during peak demand – sowing, harvesting, etc. That’s a lot of work to go around. Remember, we’re positing a roughly 5 individual household, so those 100 hours may well be split between only two people (one of whom may be either quite old or quite young and thus not as productive).

...Let’s start textiles. Spartiate women do not engage in textile manufacture (Xen. Lac. 1.4) as noted previously, nor do they seem (though the evidence here is weaker) to engage in food preparation. In the syssitia, at least, the meals are cooked and catered by helot slaves (Plut. Lyc. 12.5, 12.7). In the former case, we are told explicitly by Xenophon that it is slave labor (he uses the word doule, “female slave,” which clearly here must mean helot women) which does this.

So helot women now have an additional demand on their time and energy: not only the 2,200 hours for clothing their own household, but even more clothing the spartiate household they are forced to serve. If we want to throw numbers at this, we might idly suppose something like five helot households serving one spartiate household, suggesting something like a 20% increase in the amount of textile work. We are not told, but it seems a safe bet that they were also forced to serve as ‘domestics’ in spartiate households. That’s actually a fairly heavy and onerous imposition of additional labor on these helot women who already have their hands full.

We also know – as discussed last time – that helot households were forced to turn over a significant portion of their produce, perhaps as high as half. I won’t drag you all through the details now – I love agricultural modeling precisely because it lets us peak into the lives of folks who don’t make it into our sources – but I know of no model of ancient agriculture which can tolerate that kind of extraction without bad consequences. And I hear the retort already coming: well, of course it couldn’t have been that bad, because there were still helots, right? Not quite, because that’s not how poor farming populations work. It can be very bad and still leave you with a stable – but miserable – population.

Let’s talk about seasonal mortality. As the primary food-preparers in the helot household, helot women are going to have the job of managing a constrained but variable flow of food through an extended family that may include their husband, children, older relatives, etc. Given the low productivity of ancient farming, this is a tricky operation in systems where rents are extracting 10% or 20% of the farming yield every year, but given the demands of supporting an entirely unproductive class of elites, it becomes even harder. The key task here is stretching one harvest through the next planting to the next harvest, every year. That means carefully measuring out the food consumption of the household against the available reserves, making sure there is enough to last over the winter. If too much food is extracted by the elites, or the harvest fails or (likely) some combination, the family will run into shortage.

Now, the clever helot woman knows this – peasants, male and female, are canny survivors, not idiots, and they plan for these things (seriously, far too many of my students seem to instinctively fall into the trap of assuming serfs, peasants, etc. are idiots who don’t know what they are doing. These people have survived for generations with very few resources, often in situations of significant volatility and violence; they’re not stupid, they’re poor, and there is a difference!) – so she will have strategies to stretch out that food to try to keep herself and her family alive.

But that in turn often means inflicting a degree of malnutrition on the family unit, in order to avoid outright starvation – stretching the food out. It also probably means a lot of related strategies too: keeping up horizontal ties with other farming households so that there is someone to help you out in a shortage, for instance. Canny survivors. That said – especially in a situation where shortages hit everyone at once – a shortfall in food is often unavoidable.

But, we need to note two things here: first: humans of different ages and conditions react to malnutrition differently. Robust adults can tolerate and recover from periods of malnutrition relatively easily. For pregnant women, malnutrition increases all sorts of bad complications which will probably kill the child and may kill the mother. For the elderly and very young children, malnutrition dramatically increases mortality (read: lots of dead children and grandparents), as compromised immune systems (weakened by malnutrition) lead to diseases that the less robust old and young cannot fight off.

Second – and this is the sad and brutal part – feeding the agricultural workers, meaning the adult males (and to a lesser extent, adult females), has to come first, because they need to make it to the planting with sufficient strength to manage the backbreaking labor of the next crop. If it’s a choice between the survival of the family unit, and taking a chance that you lose Tiny Tim, our helot mother knows she has to risk Tiny Tim.

So in a good year, there is food enough for the entire household. Families expand, children grow up, the elderly part of the family makes it through another winter, imparting wisdom and comfort. But the bad years carry off the very young and the very old (and the as-yet unborn). For children who make it out of infancy, a series of bad years in early childhood – quite a common thing – are likely to leave them physically stunted. It was very likely that most helots were actually physically smaller and weaker than their better nourished spartiate masters for this reason (this is a pattern visible archaeologically over a wide range of pre-modern societies).

The population doesn’t contract, because the mortality isn’t hitting adults of child-bearing age nearly as hard, meaning that in future good years, there will be new children. In fact, societies stuck in this sad equilibrium tend to ‘bounce back’ demographically fairly quickly, because massive external mortality (say from war or plague) frees up land and agricultural surplus which leads to better nutrition which leads to less infant mortality which leads to rapid recovery.

...And so helot women must have spent a lot of time worrying about food scarcity, worrying if their sick and malnourished children or parents would make it through winter. Grieving for the lost child, the lost pregnancy, the parent taken too quickly. Probably all while being forced to do domestic labor for the spartiates, who were both the cause of her misery and at the same time did no labor at all themselves and yet were better fed than her family would ever be. Because peasant labor of any kind is so precariously balanced, we can really say that every garment woven for the spartiates, every bushel turned over, represented in some real sense an increase in that grief. Subsistence farming is always hard – but the Spartan system seems tailor made to push these subsistence farmers deeper and deeper into misery.

The instances of brutality against the helots – the murders and humiliations – which our sources preserve are directed at helot men, but it seems an unavoidable assumption that helot women were also treated poorly. Spartiate women were, after all, products of the same society which trained young men to ambush and murder helot men at night for no reason at all – it strikes me as an enormous and unsubstantiated leap to assume they were, for some reason, kind to their own female domestic servants.

In fact, the one thing we do know about spartiates – men and women alike – is that they seem to have held all manual laborers in contempt, regarding farming, weaving and crafting as tasks unbefitting of free people. I keep returning to it, but I want to again mention the spartiate woman who attempts to shame an Ionian woman because the latter is good at weaving, which in the mind of the spartiate, was labor unbecoming of a free person (Plut. Mor. 241d, note Xen. Lac. 1.4). The same attitude comes out of a spartiate man who, on seeing an Athenian convicted for idleness in court, praised the man, saying he had only been convicted of being free (Plut. Mor. 221c). This is a society that actively despises anyone who has to work for a living – even free people. Why wouldn’t that extend to its treatment of helot women?

To this, of course, we must add now the krypteia and incidents like the 2,000 murdered helots recounted by Thucydides (Thuc. 4.80). While the murdered are men, we need to also think of the survivors: the widowed wives, orphaned daughters, grieving mothers. This must have been part of the pattern of life for helot women as well – the husband or brother or cousin or father or son who went out to the fields one day and didn’t come back. The beautiful boy who was too beautiful and was thus murdered by the spartiates because – as we are told – they expressly targeted the fittest seeming helots in an effort at reverse-eugenics (Plut. Lyc. 28.3).

Finally, we need to talk about the rape. We are not told that spartiate men rape helot women, but it takes wilful ignorance to deny that this happened. First of all, this is a society which sends armed men at night into the unarmed and defenseless countryside (Hdt. 4.146.2; Plut. Lyc. 28.2; Plato, Laws 633). These young men were almost certainly under the normal age of marriage and even if they weren’t, their sexual access to their actual spouse was restricted.

Moreover (as we’ll see in a moment) there were clearly no rules against the sexual exploitation of helot women, just like there were no laws of any kind against the murder of helot men. To believe that these young men – under no direction, constrained by no military law, facing no social censure – did not engage in sexual violence requires disbelieving functionally the entire body of evidence about sexual violence in combat zones from all of human history. Anthropologically speaking, we can be absolutely sure this happened and we can be quite confident (and ought to be more than quite horrified) that it happened frequently.

But we don’t need to guess or rely on comparative evidence, because this rape was happening frequently enough that it produced an identifiable social class. The one secure passage we have to this effect is from Xenophon, who notes that the Spartan army marching to war included a group he calls the nothoi – the bastards (Xen. Hell. 5.3.9). The phrase typically means – and here clearly means – boys born to slave mothers. There is a strong reason to believe that these are the same as the mothakes or mothones which begin appearing with greater frequently in our sources. Several of these mothakes end up being fairly significant figures, most notably Lysander (note Plut. Lys. 2.1-4, where Plutarch politely sidesteps the question of why Lysander was raised in poverty and seemed unusually subservient and also the question of who his mother was).”

- Bret Devereaux, “This. Isn’t. Sparta. Part III: Spartan Women.”

#spartan #greek #ancient #bret devereaux #history #cw: rape #weaving

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barnes-dameron · 4 years

Text

Across the Way

Modern!Poe Dameron x reader

Summary: During the quarantine, Poe spots an attractive woman that lives in the building across the way.

Word Count: 2.2k

A/N: this is inspired by the song “Across the Way” that I watched on Jake Gyllenhaal’s insta

*not my gif

It was day 32 of quarantine, and Poe was about to lose his mind. He was a people person by nature, and having to be home was absolutely not his thing. At first, Poe thought it would be good for him. He could finally get around to cleaning his apartment, get some work done so he wasn't so behind, and work out his muscles. Well, he discovered that he hated cleaning, work kept piling up as he procrastinated, and he’d rather sit on his couch and watch TV than exercise.

He was sitting at his desk in front of his window, which overlooked the street below and faced another apartment building, similar to his own. Poe had some work to do that Leia gave out last night. He stared at his laptop for so long that his eyes began to sting. He brought up his hands to his face, rubbing his eyes as a frustrated groan let out from his lips. The minute he opened them back up, something caught his attention.

It happened so quick. He couldn't remember what caught his eye exactly, but he remembered the end result. There was a woman standing in the window of the apartment building across the street. He was mesmerized from her figure to the shape of her face. Poe has seen attractive women before, but he's never seen a beautiful one. She wasn't wearing any makeup, her hair wasn't styled in any way, and she was wearing simple clothes, an old t-shirt and sweat pants. How can a woman look so gorgeous with little to no effort?

Poe let out a breath that he didn't know he was holding. He focused his eyes a bit more, trying to see what you were doing. He saw a book near the window ledge, as well as a potted plant. He couldn't see inside, but maybe if he squinted harder...

But BB, Poe's corgi, decided to let out a stream of barks, breaking Poe's concentration. He broke away from the window to look towards BB, who was barking at an ant on the floor. Poe let out a heavy sigh and rolled his eyes. When he went to look out the window to see the woman, she disappeared. She was no longer in her window, and Poe let out another sigh. He didn't even know your name.

Day 36 approached quickly, and Poe continued his monotonous routine. But he did add something new: looking out the window and try to see you. The woman in the window who comes and goes. Sometimes he’d catch a glimpse of your silhouette whenever you stood further in your apartment. He would then try to see if he had any telekinetic power and draw you closer. But alas, it would always fail.

Poe sat at his desk, looking out the window whenever he wasn’t looking at his laptop. He didn’t see you at all that day. Poe would casually glance over at his clock and see how the time passed by. He didn’t get any work done that day. He was afraid he’d miss you if he looked at his screen for too long.

The sun sank down as the dark curtain of night was pulling over the sky. The streetlights below began to turn on, illuminating the side walks in pools of light. Poe saw some apartment windows light up while others remained dark due to drawn curtains.

Poe shut off his laptop, got up from his spot, and ate dinner alone, except for BB. He watched a movie to ease the loneliness, but all he could think of was you. He wondered where you were at, and if you enjoyed your day; what you ate today, or did something new and excited. The movie ended. Poe got up, grabbing his near empty beer bottle while doing so. He glanced at the window, out of good luck, and for the first time that day, he saw you.

You were standing near your window, a glass of wine in hand. Poe whipped his hand up to glance at his wrist watch. It was around 10 o’clock. He looked back up at you, and to his surprise, you looked back at him. You never looked at him. Poe’s heart beat faster in his chest, he felt heat creeping up his neck to reach his cheeks. How is it that someone so far can feel so close? He took a deep breath.

Poe raised his beer bottle to you, and was pleased when you returned the gesture with your glass. A silent toast, to what, Poe didn’t know nor did he care. He raised the bottle to his lips, draining it of it’s contents as his eyes remained on you, watching you sip your wine. When you pulled the glass away from your face, Poe saw you smile.

Poe had trouble sleeping that night. He laid awake in his bed, your smile plastered in his mind.

Day 45 came in a blink of an eye. Ever since the night of day 36, Poe noticed that you spent more time at the window as well. Sometimes he’d see you reading a book, other times writing in a journal. He was so enthralled in your being, that he could watch you do whatever all day. He did that once, too. Leia definitely wasn’t happy with him.

One day Poe had a zoom call, but he didn’t listen to a single thing. That day, you seemed to be drawing something. He was so interested on how you concentrated with such intensity, your brows furrowed in the middle. It took Leia over the whole duration of the meeting to snap him out of his daze. He apologized profusely to her, but he didn’t mean it. He didn’t regret watching you.

Today, Poe decided to do something to get your attention for a change. He found a speaker in his room, and grabbed his phone. Poe opened up his window, and placed the speaker on the edge. He set it on the loudest setting, and played music. Poe waited by the window for you to emerge from yours, and when you did, he was graced with your smile. Poe smiled in return, and began to play an air guitar in effort to keep up with the music. His heart skipped a beat when he saw you laugh. If the music wasn’t so loud, Poe was convinced that he could’ve heard it. For a split second he was disappointed for missing the opportunity.

As the music continued to play, Poe started to dance along and was so pleased to watch you dance in return. Poe made up some crazy dance moves, but he was always bested by your eccentric ones. The entire time he was smiling as he moved across the floor before his window. He was having the time of his life until a knock at the door interrupted.

Poe whipped his head around towards the direction of the door, and then went to answer it. Hux, his annoying neighbor who finds a problem with almost everything, stood on the other side, an annoyed expression draped across his face. Poe let out a sigh as he slumped his shoulders. He always hated Hux. Hux held such a high standard for himself that he thought Poe was ever beneath him despite the both of them living in the same size apartment on the same floor.

“What do you want, Hux?” Poe asked, annoyance dripping from his voice.

“Do you mind at all?” Hux began. “Your music is too loud. I can barely hear myself in a very important meeting that I happen to be conducting. So turn that music down, or I will have the landlord do it for you.”

Poe rolled his eyes. The landlord was wrapped around Hux’s finger, and Poe knew he had no chance against him.

“Fine,” Poe sighed in a rush. Hux nodded, and was about to turn around to leave before Poe replied back. “Oh, and Hux, ease up on the gel; you’re looking more weasely than usual.”

Poe didn’t pretend to ignore the little pet name that Hux called him: Scum. Poe, choosing not to say anything that would take up more time, closed the door and hurried to the window. To his disappointment, you weren’t present at yours. Poe cursed at Hux. You probably thought that he left to go do something else. Poe approached the speaker, turning down the music before turning it off completely.

Day 54 crept slowly. It was like time stood still in his apartment. The only pleasure he got was seeing you, but after that, time crept by at a tortoise’s pace. He tried not to think about you too much, but he always failed himself. Poe would catch himself looking far too often at the window, in hopes you would be there. He had done it so often that he was convinced it’s now a habit.

Poe went by his day the same way. Around dinner time, he saw you bring your food to your window. His eyes widened in surprise. He quickly ran to his kitchen, slapped his leftovers into the microwave, grabbed a beer, retrieved his food, and rushed back to the table by his window. He smiled when you made eye contact with him once again. To him, it felt like a date. Granted there was no candle light and you two were in separate buildings, sixty feet away from each other. But for some reason, it felt perfect. There were no words spoken, but your expressions said everything. This was the first time during the quarantine that Poe felt excited. He genuinely felt happy.

He didn’t get much sleep that night either. All he could think of was you. What did your voice sound like? What did your laugh sound like? What was your favorite color? Your favorite movie? What was your name? That question plagued him the most. He didn’t know your name.

When Poe finally fell asleep that night, you were in his dreams. You were wrapped in his arms: no six feet distance, no face masks, no worries whatsoever. It was in Paris, at a little cafe. Your chairs were so close together, that you were half sitting on his. He had his arm around your shoulders as your head rested against his. The Eiffel Tower was in the distance, standing tall against a pale violet sky as the stars began to appear. It felt so real, that Poe woke up right away. He thought you were in his arms, but alas it was just the blanket. He cursed himself and shoved his head into his pillow, trying to go back to sleep and continue his dream. But it didn’t work. He’ll just have to wait until morning to see you.

It’s now day 75. Poe was sitting at his desk by the window, per usual. This time, he occupied himself by looking down at the street below. The sushi place on the ground level of your apartment building was open so there was a long line of people standing six feet apart with their faces adorned with masks, waiting to get their food. Poe grew an interest in looking at the handmade masks of some people. He remembered on day 66 when you made one with your sewing machine, next to your window.

He moved his gaze from the street to your window. You were there, and his heart felt light. Poe brought out the hand that was tucked underneath his chin to wave at you. He smirked as you smiled and waved in return. You held up your index finger, a signal for him to wait. He nodded his head, and you disappeared into your home.

After a short while, Poe straightened his back and leaned forward on the desk as you returned to the window with a piece of paper in hand. He had to squint and concentrate his eyes a little to see, but once he read it, his heart soared.

It was your name.

Your name was written across the sheet of paper in big black letters, drawn on by a large Sharpie. His eyes scanned that paper a thousand times, taking in the letters. He said it aloud, trying it for the first time. He thought it had a musical sound to it. It rolled off his tongue naturally, as if he was meant to say it. He smiled to himself. He held a finger up to you before going on a search in his apartment for paper and a marker. The paper was easy, but the marker was harder. He had to settle for a dark pen, but he colored in the block letters as best as he can so it could be readable to you.

Poe rushed back to the window, and held up the paper, pressing it to the glass. His name was written sloppily and rushed on the paper. For a minute, Poe felt a little self-conscious. He watched as you leaned in a bit, but butterflies flew rapidly in his stomach when he saw your smile and nod.

There were two things that went through Poe’s head when he went to bed that night. One, he finally knew your beautiful name. Two, he couldn’t wait for the quarantine to be over.

Who knew that he would meet the perfect woman during this quarantine? And she was only across the way.

#poe dameron #poe dameron x reader #poe dameron x you #Oscar Isaac #oscar isaac x reader #star wars #Star Wars The Force Awakens #star wars the last jedi #star wars rise of skywalker #fanfic #quarantine

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prettywordsyouleft · 4 years

Text

Bloodstone | Part 5

Summary: You knew all about the ring your grandmother had told you about and yet when the stone fell from it one fateful day, you weren’t truly prepared for its return, nor who it came back with.

Pairing: Kim Namjoon x reader

Genre: fantasy / romance

Warnings: none

Index: Prologue | 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10

“I don’t want to go,” Yoongi mentioned softly later in the day, a stack of books secured under his arm to take back to the store with him for further study. Your best friend glanced at Namjoon still brooding over the discovered journal and then sighed. “But I really need to go see if I can decipher more about these books so I can help further.”

“Go, I’ll be fine.”

“You ring me if anything goes awry.”

It was your turn to look in Namjoon’s direction, the divinity feeling your stare and turning to smile at you. Yoongi watched you both and sighed again. “You’ll be fine, I guess.”

“Of course. And thank you for bringing some spare clothes with you. I’m sure Namjoon will appreciate something else to change into later.”

“Yeah, right. I mean, best friend duty and all.” Rearranging the books, Yoongi leaned in to brush his lips over your forehead before departing out the front door.

Rocking on your heels and clapping your hands together, you returned to Namjoon’s side. “I think as much as we want to understand everything that’s going on between us and the past bloodstone love story, we should call it a day.”

“Call it a day? Will that end the sun?” Namjoon wondered innocently and you bit at your lip to suppress a giggle.

You still weren’t used to how strange he was.

“It’s a saying. It means to stop working on the task before you and relax. Actually, we should cook something for dinner. You could help me?”

Namjoon was up immediately, the journal now discarded. The one thing you had learned after lunch was that he could eat. He practically led the way to your kitchen area and stood there peering at the empty takeout containers you left on the bench from earlier.

Shaking your head at his eagerness, you turned to pantry and then grew embarrassed. To you, not having a lot of variety in food didn’t matter too much. You weren’t the most proficient in the kitchen but you got by – mostly with the help of pre-made meals. And you were in dire need of a grocery store trip as it was. Laughing awkwardly, you grabbed out two packets of ramen and held them up at Namjoon.

He inspected the bright packaging carefully. “How do we get the food out of them?”

“That’s easy, we open it.” Ripping the seam on the back apart, you then reached into another cupboard for a pot. Namjoon watched as you filled it with water and then turned to your stove top. You gestured for him to back up a little. “I need to ignite the element by pressing this button and that will boil the water.”

“You don’t need to build a fire first?” he asked, bending down to look for signs of an archaic way of cooking for this modern city life. You grinned when he gasped at the flame lapping up the underneath of the pot on the stovetop immediately. “You said you’re not magical but what just happened?!”

“Science,” you simply answered, and pointed to the dry noodle stacks. “When the water is ready, we’ll add all the ingredients.”

It wasn’t much of a meal when it was done, yet Namjoon looked at you as if you were a chef in a Michelin level restaurant. You knew it was down to easiness of your appliances but you couldn’t help but feel proud for some reason.

And after his first mouthful, his eyes nearly popped out of his head. “This is flavoursome!”

“It’s basic food here. I admit it’s not much of a filling meal. But it will get us by until we go to the grocery store tomorrow.”

“We’re going where tomorrow?”

“A marketplace,” you attempted and Namjoon hummed in understanding.

You watched him enthusiastically eat another mouthful before joining in, sharing your first meal alone with your strange new roommate.

After dinner, you continued to amaze him with turning on the devices that had remained off throughout the day. You sat down and showed him what a television was, checked your emails on your laptop and then introduced him to the shower.

“The water stays very warm in this magical abode, Y/N,” Namjoon proclaimed after returning from the bathroom, now dressed in some of Yoongi’s pyjamas.

You giggled when you realised he had put the shirt on backwards. “I think you have a bit of a predicament with your top. The buttons go to the front, not the back.”

“Really? I thought it was rather peculiar. The texture and the fact that there’s only three buttons,” he murmured, yanking it off in front of you without much regard.

You felt all the air expel from within you as your eyes fixated on his torso. Was gemstone milling such a strenuous job? Perhaps since Namjoon had been looking for firewood under the element that he was used to doing a lot of manual labour to run his household. Whatever it was, his soft, dimpled cheeks had fooled you away from his muscular build underneath his clothes.

You chewed on your lip in a daze.

“Y/N? Do I have it on the right way now?” he asked, waving a hand in front of your glassed over eyes, snapping you out of your reverie. Fumbling with coherency, you nodded repeatedly.

“Yep, all good!” you hastily commented, smiling brightly. “I’ll uh, just go and get you a blanket to set up on the couch and then we’re good for bed, okay?”

“Thank you for your hospitality.”

“It’s not a problem!” you shouted as you darted down the hallway, taking some time to gather your clarity. And once you had assured Namjoon was set for bed, you switched out the lights, headed down to your bedroom and slipped under the covers.

Except, you couldn’t sleep.

Rolling over in your bed, you groaned in annoyance. Of course, it would make sense that you were unable to drift off, given the intense experience today had offered.

However, you knew it wasn’t that.

Was the bloodstone at work here? You had struggled to sleep without the stone last night as well, given it was the first time in many years without it. And whilst Namjoon was only in the living room, the stone felt too far away, chilling you down to your bones.

“Seriously,” you mumbled out loud, shaking your head. “This is such a weird reaction.”

Getting up, you shifted down to the main area of your house as quietly as you could. You could see the glow from the doorway and smiled with relief.

It called you closer.

With the lights out, Namjoon felt an immense wave of concern. Just what could be done within this situation you and he had? He had barely been gone a day and this fantastical world amazed and equally frightened him. There was the incessant worry of his sister going without him as well.

Had she discovered he was gone by now? Who had she turned to for assistance? He knew Marian was much more practical than he was, and yet, after his father’s death, he had taken it upon himself to protect her as best as he could. Was she lonely now?

It bothered him that with all these pressing thoughts, you still overruled his mind. Little expressions lingered, subtle touches still felt upon his skin. He wanted to know more about you, out of the flashbacks the stone had offered him. Namjoon craved to understand how you felt about everything.

It was overwhelming to be this connected to someone who was once a mere stranger.

The stone is making me feel all this, he reminded himself, rolling over on the couch with some resentment. It irked him to wish that it wasn’t because of some stone that he was at your side right now. It was laughable and impractical and –

“Namjoon?” you quietly called out, making him sit up. You wrung the front of your nightgown within your hands and smiled weakly. “I uh, I can’t sleep.”

“Me either.”

“Too many worries?”

“Too much of you on my mind,” he admitted, which seemed to have an affect on you.

“Oh,” you breathed, nodding once. “I’m bothering you.”

“Somewhat.”

“I’ll go then.”

“No, I mean,” He paused to get up and approach you. “I am bothered. Mostly because the stone holds power over me. I don’t know what my real thoughts are and what comes with being linked to you like this.”

“It makes sense. I have felt that way a lot today too.”

“At least we’re not alone,” he whispered and you nodded in agreement. Reaching out tentatively, you placed your palm on his chest.

His skin tingled.

“I like being close to the stone,” you murmured, fixated on his chest. “It’s familiar.”

“I’m not,” he cautioned and you nodded again. “Does that bother you?”

“Maybe a little but I wonder how long it will take until you become too familiar to me?”

It was a good question, one in which Namjoon wanted an answer to as well. The stone suspended between you gave no concrete solution and you both sighed at the same time.

“Do you mind if I ask you to sleep in my room?”

“Would it help you?” Namjoon hesitantly asked, finding it more difficult to breathe after the proposal.

You, however, grew hopeful. “Very much so.”

“I’ll sleep on the floor beside you,” Namjoon offered, returning to the couch for his bedding and carried it down to your personal chambers. After a bit of fussing from you both over the setup, you eventually climbed back into your bed, rolling onto your side and dangled your arm down to where Namjoon laid.

He took your hand and it wasn’t long until your even breathing signalled you had comfortably fallen asleep.

However, his mind was plagued with how this would all play out.

You had no idea Yoongi was in love with you, and Namjoon didn’t want to believe he could fall for you as well.

Not yet, anyway.

_________________

Part 6

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