#there like oh my god. the exploitation of women from other countries too like it's crazy. (also applies to regular adoption in foreign

[maddy-ferguson]

People really need to read up more on surrogacy, I'm pretty sure those in favor of it just think "Well if the woman wants to do it why not" but there is so much more to it :/ It's extremely exploitative in most cases, not to mention that wombs and babies shouldn't be seen as products to be bought.

exactly thank you...so many different angles to choose from too like commodification of the human body commodification of women's bodied specifically exploitation of poorer women...like TO ME it's liberalism on an insane level

[papirouge]

I unironically want Christian women of all kinds to stop listening to namely white Christian men old and young (and women too) who push that “great replacement theory” that I keep seeing crop up even in Christian spaces. If you’re happy about your heritage that’s one thing. Like celebrating traditions or culture. But to go full “our [white] people are endangered” and demonizing mixed ethnicity or race couples is just gross and cruel to me. Bonus if you’re adopted too. They’re told to be fruitful and multiple while believing people like my big family are “taking over”. I come from a big Asian and Afro-Hispanic family with some non-white middle eastern relatives too. We’re not doing anything but existing. What’s going on with these people lately? Does anyone feel like this?

...... what I'm about to say may shock you but I lowkey believe the great remplacement is real lol (Non Whites) immigrants are making more kids than locals and it only takes time before they outnumber them - at least in places where there is already a huge immigrant population 🥴

But my biggest issue is how the Whites are acting like victims about it. What's stopping them of having kids? You can't be oppressed by people breeding 💀 why wouldn't Christian be bothered about it anyway? oh yes, that's because White people with 6-7 kids is God's glory, but any POC with big families are a threat to society 💀💀

And this whole "keeping tradition" excuse is retarded. In France, churches are filled with black/subsaharian Christians bc the Whites don't go to churches anymore (the only Whites there are senior citizens who belong to a generation when religious education was still alive). That's right, the Negroes are keeping their precious White Chrisitian culture alive - they should thank us tbh💅🏾. I even heard that in Russia they import priests from Africa bc the younger generations got totally disinterested from religion/clericalism. Interestingly enough, you hardly hear those rightoids talk about it. It's easier to point fingers are immigrants than acknowledge their own shortcomings.

But I'm not naive enough to think this hypocrisy is only in White countries. If you're from a multiracial background you may not understand that, but racially homogeneous countries will always have a self preserving instinct. My family is in Congo (so a pure Black country) and I know some people are wary of Chinese flocking over there.....when they are just taking opportunities that their corrupted government fails to exploit. There's also racism within (Black) Africans following the ethnicity (pretty much like the Whites othered the (Ashkenazi) Jews or Irish), notably regarding through intra continental workers migration flows.

I was very surprised to see sooooo many Chinese when I got there 🤯 But it didn't start recently: back when China was under (Mao's?) Communism many Black African countries hosted Chinese students. Communism was very successful in Africa (bc African cultures values are very *community* oriented, as opposed to Western individualism). That's around that time my mom had a fling with a Chinese student and he wanted to take her to China but my grandma refused to let my mom go bc "she would be killed over there" lmaooooo 🤣

[qqueenofhades]

Do you really hate this county? Or were you just ranting?

Sigh. I debated whether or not to answer this, since I usually keep the real-life/politics/depressing current events to a relative minimum on this blog, except when I really can't avoid ranting about it. But I have some things to get off my chest, it seems, and you did ask. So.

The thing is, any American with a single modicum of genuine historical consciousness knows that despite all the triumphalist mythology about Pulling Up By Our Bootstraps and the American Dream and etc, this country was founded and built on the massive and systematic exploitation and extermination of Black and Indigenous people. And now, when we are barely (400 years later!!!) getting to a point of acknowledging that in a widespread way, oh my god the screaming. I'm so sick of the American right wing I could spit for so many reasons, not least of which is the increasingly reductive and reactive attempts to put the genie back in the bottle and set up hysterical boogeymen about how Teaching Your Children Critical Race Theory is the end of all things. They have forfeited all pretense of being a real governing party; remember how their only platform at the 2020 RNC was "support whatever Trump says?" They have devolved to the point where the cruelty IS the point, to everyone who doesn't fit the nakedly white supremacist mold. They don't have anything to do aside from attempt to usher in actual, literal, dictionary-definition-of-fascism and sponsor armed revolts against the peaceful transfer of power.

That is fucking exhausting to be aware of all the time, especially with the knowledge that if we miss a single election cycle -- which is exceptionally easy to do with the way the Democratic electorate needs to be wooed and courted and herded like cats every single time, rather than just getting their asses to the polls and voting to keep Nazis out of office -- they will be right back in power again. If Manchin and Sinema don't get over their poseur pearl-clutching and either nuke the filibuster or carve out an exception for voting rights, the John Lewis Voting Rights Act is never going to get passed, no matter how many boilerplate appeals the Democratic leadership makes on Twitter. In which case, the 2022 midterms are going to give us Kevin McCarthy, Speaker of the House (I threw up in my mouth a little typing that) and right back to the Mitch McConnell Obstruction Power Hour in the Senate. The Online Left (TM) will then blame the Democrats for not doing more to stop them. These are, of course, the same people who refused to vote for Hillary Clinton out of precious moral purity reasons in 2016, handed the election to Trump, and now like to complain when the Trump-stacked Supreme Court reliably churns out terrible decisions. Gee, it's almost like elections have consequences!!

Aside from my exasperation with the death-cult right-wing fascists and the Online Left (TM), I am sick and tired of how forty years of "trickle-down" Reaganomics has created a world where billionaires can just fly to space for the fun of it, while the rest of America (and the world) is even more sick, poor, overheated, economically deprived, and unable to survive the biggest public health crisis in a century, even if half the elected leadership wasn't actively trying to sabotage it. Did you know that half of American workers can't even afford a one-bedroom apartment? Plus the obvious scandal that is race relations, health care, paid leave, the education system (or lack thereof), etc etc. I'm so tired of this America Is The Greatest Country in the World mindless jingoistic catchphrasing. We are an empire in the late stages of collapse and it's not going to be pretty for anyone. We have been poisoned on sociopathic-libertarian-selfishness-disguised-as-Freedom ideology for so long that that's all there is left. We have become a country of idiots who believe everything their idiot friends post on social media, but in a very real sense, it's not directly those individuals' fault. How could they, when they have been very deliberately cultivated into that mindset and stripped of critical thinking skills, to serve a noxious combination of money, power, and ideology?

I am tired of the fact that I have become so drained of empathy that when I see news about more people who refused to get the vaccine predictably dying of COVID, my reaction is "eh, whatever, they kind of deserved it." I KNOW that is not a good mindset to have, and I am doing my best to maintain my personal attempts to be kind to those I meet and to do my small part to make the world better. I know these are human beings who believed what they were told by people that they (for whatever reason) thought knew better than them, and that they are part of someone's family, they had loved ones, etc. But I just can't summon up the will to give a single damn about them (I'm keeping a bingo card of right-wing anti-vax radio hosts who die of COVID and every time it's like, "Alexa, play Another One Bites The Dust.") The course that the pandemic took in 21st-century America was not preordained or inevitable. It was (and continues to be) drastically mismanaged for cynical political reasons, and the legacy of the Former Guy continues to poison any attempts to bring it under control or convince people to get a goddamn vaccine. We now have over 100,000 patients hospitalized with COVID across the country -- more than last summer, when the vaccines weren't available.

I have been open about my fury about the devaluation of the humanities and other critical thinking skills, about the fact that as an academic in this field, my chances of getting a full-time job for which I have trained extensively and acquired a specialist PhD are... very low. I am tired of the fact that Americans have been encouraged to believe whatever bullshit they fucking please, regardless of whether it is remotely true, and told that any attempt to correct them is "anti-freedom." I am tired of how little the education system functions in a useful way at all -- not necessarily due to the fault of teachers, who have to work with what they're given, and who are basically heroes struggling stubbornly along in a profession that actively hates them, but because of relentless under-funding, political interference, and furious attempts, as discussed above, to keep white America safely in the dark about its actual history. I am tired of the fact that grade school education basically relies on passing the right standardized tests, the end. I am tired of the implication that the truth is too scary or "un-American" to handle. I am tired. Tired.

I know as well that "America" is not synonymous in all cases with "capitalist imperialist white-supremacist corporate death cult." This is still the most diverse country in the world. "America" is not just rich white middle-aged Republicans. "America" involves a ton of people of color, women, LGBTQ people, Muslims, Jews, Christians of good will (I have a whole other rant on how American Christianity as a whole has yielded all pretense of being any sort of a principled moral opposition), white allies, etc etc. all trying to make a better world. The blue, highly vaccinated, Biden-winning states and counties are leading the economic recovery and enacting all kinds of progressive-wishlist dream policies. We DID get rid of the Orange One via the electoral process and avert fascism at the ballot box, which is almost unheard-of, historically speaking. But because, as also discussed above, certain elements of the Democratic electorate need to fall in love with a candidate every single time or threaten to withhold their vote to punish the rest of the country for not being Progressive Enough, these gains are constantly fragile and at risk of being undone in the next electoral cycle. Yes, the existing system is a crock of shit. But it's what we've got right now, and the other alternative is open fascism, which we all got a terrifying taste of over the last four years. I don't know about you, but I really don't want to go back.

So... I don't know. I don't know if that stacks up to hate. I do hate almost everything about what this country currently is, structurally speaking, but I recognize that is not identical with the many people who still live here and are trying to do their best, including my friends, family, and myself. I am exhausted by the fact that as an older millennial, I am expected to survive multiple cataclysmic economic crashes, a planet that is literally boiling alive, a barely functional political system run on black cash, lies, and xenophobia, a total lack of critical thinking skills, renewed assaults on women/queer people/POC/etc, and somehow feel like I'm confident or prepared for the future. Not all these problems are only America's fault alone. The West as a whole bears huge responsibility for the current clusterfuck that the world is in, for many reasons, and so do some non-Western countries. But there is no denying that many of these problems have ultimate American roots. See how the ongoing fad for right-wing authoritarian strongmen around the world has them modeling themselves openly on Trump (like Brazil's lunatic president, Jair Bolsonaro, who talks all the time about how Trump is his political role model). See what's going on in Afghanistan right now. Etc. etc.

Anyway. I am very, very tired. There you have it.

[rpmemesbyarat]

RP meme from Scream Queens Ep 4 "Haunted House" (Note: Offensive content, use at own discretion)

A girl died in this tub.

There's no record of any of these names except for one.

Oh, my god, there's two of them!

I own Halloween. It's my jam.

Halloween is the most important day of the year. It's the one day on the Gregorian calendar where you're allowed to go around terrifying children and not be branded a psychopath.

I am a future network news anchor who's super classy and has almost no fat on her body.

A lot of my fans are, like, friendless dumpy coeds at this or that nursing school in one of this country's various national armpits.

They put down their hot pockets and bask in the warm glow of what it feels like to love me.

I went shopping with my comatose grandmother's credit card and bought presents.

Oh, my god, it says my name!

I hope the severed leg brightens up your trailer park.

You're a bright light in my life, and I wanted you to know how much you impress me with your frumpy spirit.

You are so devastatingly mediocre and adorable!

I can't wait to see you in person, but before that, I'd like to see you post this all over social media, to exploit it for my own gain.

Aah! It's a rotting jack-o'-lantern!

Aah! This box is just filled with blood!

She got me a razor apple!

I stole this cadaver head from an ophthalmology student just for you.

You're the most important person in the world.

So you didn't see anyone in a red devil costume entering or leaving the house?

Are you coming to the precinct pig roast this year?

Come on, she's obviously the killer!

Do you mean to suggest I changed out of my nightgown, strapped myself into a skintight pleather red devil costume, climbed out a second-story dormer, and shimmied to the ground with a chain saw before entering a window I had left open, tried to kill you, then leapt out the window, climbed back up the wall, changed back into my nightgown,

and raced downstairs, all in the course of about 90 seconds?

Clearly that's got you a little freaked out.

I'm not gonna hold any of this against you, and I'm gonna let you be my date for the faculty Halloween party.

Attempted murder!

A guy was almost killed tonight, okay?

Now, no, I'm not a detective, hell, I ain't even a cop, but what I am is somebody who watched every one of those Cosby mysteries, okay?

See? Dismemberment!

I am so sorry that I pushed you out of my car and drove off real scared.

I just can't believe that How To Lose A Guy In 10 days is your favorite movie, too.

In precisely two and half minutes when we go in there, you let me do all the talking.

What are you dressed as?

Oh, you have a squirrel. Don't see that much anymore.

Breakfast is almost ready, we got meat today.

What can you tell us about that night?

Now, we will keep your name out of it, of course.

'm a vault,

And to get in this vault you need a key. Now, you may ask, a key to what? It's a key to meaning. Once you've found the meaning, you don't need the words. You know what I'm saying?

Please, continue with your story.

Have any of you ever heard of "negligent homicide"?

We need to dispose of this body on our own. Now, I've got everything we need in the kitchen to make sausages out of her.

I'm gonna go downstairs, shut this party down, and then we'll get the body out of here.

Somebody has to watch after the baby.

Can you at least turn on the radio?

Just leave the details to me.

We can't just act like this never happened.

She's the devil, that one.

I looked at that baby up close. I know my peas and carrots. That baby was a girl.

Your support doesn't matter.

My campaign needs a theme?

My pumpkin's drunk.

I'm hosting a haunted house to raise money for sickle cell anemia.

Why are you holding a fund-raiser, though?

I don't think you understand the magnitude of the miscalculation you just made.

I can assure you you will not be winning an election anytime soon. And when you lose, I am gonna make it my lifelong passion to destroy your reputation.

You're a stuck-up little sociopath, and everybody in this room knows it.

It might behoove you to recall that everyone here witnessed you actually murder someone

Just sharpening knives.

Put the knives down.

I don't know what came over me.

How very adolescent of you to think of this.

It vaguely smacks of something my six-year-old sister would be excited about.

It's the most disgusting disease in the history of mankind.

You get it when you don't even understand the most basic tenets of oral hygiene.

Just give the dang thing its pot of gold already!

I ain't got no candy!

Bet you're a sexy dirt-covered girl. That's what I bet you are.

Sometimes I come out here and I just rub my hands on the gravestones.

I get you more than anyone.

I also find the thought of dead bodies extremely arousing.

I just don't understand why I have all these dark feelings.

You know, I just think our generation's had it too easy, you know? We haven't seen enough horrible stuff. There's no awesome diseases randomly killing people. There's not really any awesome wars to go off to and witness horrific things you can't unsee. We, like, pulled out of all of 'em.

Sometimes I just don't even feel like I'm living, you know?

The only time I feel anything is when I'm thinking about chopping up a body.

And here you are, saddled up with an uptight girlfriend who freaked out for no other reason than the fact that you just wanted to fantasize about having sex with her lifeless corpse.

Oh, my god, I got a total chub right now.

Not scary enough.

She'll let you in the back door.

What could be scarier for an adult than a child coming to murder them?

Isn't that all of our greatest fear? That the pain, the regrets, the mistakes of our youth will destroy us in our adulthood? That we can't escape our inner child. One we would rather forget, but who, at the end of the day has all the power.

Why are you lying to me?

Something does not make sense.

You got to give me more here, okay?

I don't understand what you're getting at.

Are you on bath salts?

Why are we even here?

This house is haunted.

There's a legend in this neighborhood about a woman who wailed about her dead children. And this was the house she lived in.

These dumb ol' kids are smoking crack.

I think it's incredible what you can find out with just a quick trip down to your local library.

This can be one of the rooms for the haunted house.

What exactly do you plan on doing at this haunted house?

I was thinking we could blindfold folks and make 'em put their hands in a bowl full of grapes we peeled, so it'll feel like eyeballs.

I think the reason you want to have a haunted house party is 'cause a haunted party is like a buffet for murderers.

Yeah, yeah, you can just go around killing anybody you want and ain't nobody even gonna even notice.

Just like you chopped the arms off that dumb-ass golf guy.

Why do you have it out for me?

So now you look at me and see everything you could've been.

I hope you have a good time at you haunted party and get to murder lots of folks.

You have this way too thought out.

Isn't this kind of nice?

My sense of personal identity is completely external.

I really don't have much to offer.

I've found that my particular style of speaking and gesticulation is extremely off-putting to most boys. And girls. And anyone.

I need to eat. My blood sugar is crashing.

I'm tired of depriving myself of joy and sustenance.

I may die at the end of a serial killer's blade, but I refuse to die hungry.

Which one of you ladies would like to be my costume for Halloween? I'm going as "dude having awesome sex with you."

I mean, what in the hell's wrong with the world where a guy can't even whistle at a chick just to tell her she looks hot?

I recently took a women's studies class. Yes, because it was a requirement, but I learned a lot anyways. Like the culture that says it's okay for a man to objectify a woman for her appearance is the same culture that pressures girls as young as ten to have eating disorders.

So you're basically saying I'm the one responsible for making you look hot?

When you treat us like meat, you're no better than him!

I'm not really sure how you got my number, but I like how you took the initiative and texted me where you wanted us to meet.

Do you think you're man enough to take me inside that house and attack my crack?

I'll sure this house has an amazingly romantic basement.

Hey, so, uh, a little awkward since we're about to bone down and everything, but, um, what's your name?

Smells like roadkill.

I've never been so scared in my whole life.

All right, if we go to the police, they're gonna see I'm still rocking a mad sidepipe, and they're gonna think I had something to do with it.

We have to warn people.

All right, everybody listen up! All of your lives are in danger!

There are dead bodies! Dead bodies. Real-life dead bodies.

Did you say dead bodies?

Those are like the most lifelike dead bodies I've ever seen.

Is that a real dead body?

There are five dead bodies in that house. Laid out in horrible and deliberate macabre poses.

You are not leaving this house tonight.

You make it harder and harder to believe that you're not the killer.

I found out something really interesting, and now I have a theory.

Everything is weird about that story.

I mean, it's too big a coincidence.

We have to figure out who that woman was.

[cartoonfangirl1218]

BTS Inspiration of Winner’s Curse

I know not many people read my descendants fic, but hey it’s my Bday tomorrow and I feel like revealing some of the inspiration for it. This world building was actually what inspired me to start writing it down. Originally it was going to be from the POV of a Vk, and explore all the dynamics of the “new” Isle under the Coven of 13, and get into the motivations of each but as you can see that did not happen. I was intrigued by the idea of exploring a “sidekick” trying to be the hero and all that. Other notes are

Circe was originally going to be the mother of Malik, after having a fling with Mozonroth when she got sent to the Isle. Decided it was too much drama and discarded that.

There was going to be more focus on the power struggles between the mercenaries, the Coven and the authority figures. Was going to reveal Uma and Freddie to be siblings. Ended up sidelining Freddie.

Gaston’s daughter, Cosette, was going to have a role, becoming closer with Gil.

Atlantis characters were going to be part of the main group. As well as Black Cauldron characters. Also discarded.

Was going to redeem Drizella because I heard the original plans for Cinderella III was going to be Drizella redemption but they changed so they could give more development to Anastasia. So I decided I was going to do it. Dizzy would have been given more of a role.

Hans was going to be revealed as the cruelest villain. (Yeah I was going to make him a twist villain again. Be glad I did not).

Nasira and Mozonroth were going to be lovers before I decided on mother and son.

Diego and Ivy De’Vil would have had more a role.

Hercules characters would have had more a role. Including the Muses.

Ben would have had more a role somehow.

And that‘s about it.

But some things I am proud of in Winner’s Curse. Passing the Bedchel test.

A POC majority cast (This was completely unintentional but now I see it and counting it out, there’s four Agrabians, two WOC, and three European. Though I’ll admit I have not given Harry, Calix and Gil as much spotlight as I should. So my bad. But does Greek count as a white Euro? Idk, point is, unintentional diversity. Woo)

There‘s only two romances. Both are interracial. Also unintentional. Uma and Harry are totally together. And Aziz and Lala’s burgeoning crushes that will not end in a kiss after the final battle because it’s not important. Oh well. Attempts to explore PTSD, abuse, sexual assault and poverty.

The emphasis on family and friendship between characters.

Exploring the negative side of Auradon including it’s classist system, the Magic Ban, and the Euro-countries getting more resources and riches compared to the likes of Kuzcotopia and Atlantis and Atlantica,

Psychological studies(ish) and more character exploration.

Jay faces his dad!

Hook siblings!

Getting to mention tie ins to the Aladdin animated series, Legend of Tarzan animated series, Hercules animated series, Ariel‘s Beginning and soon Disney fairies books. And adding those characters.

That I finished 20 chapters! This is my longest fic ever! And just ten more chapters to go! I’ll get there.

Coven of 13: Villains dedicated to using their old magic to take over Auradon and be restored to their glory days once more. However they all have conflicting wishes with what the final plan should be.

Maleficent: Since being “overthrown” as queen of the Isle. Maleficent had to settle herself with working with others until she can be mistress of all evil again. Is in a constant battle for dominance with Queen Nerissa, Ursula, Mozenrath and Jafar.

(Evil) Queen Grimhilde: Though she may be pre-occupied by her looks and seem to be passive, Grimhilde is secretly gunning for complete control of the Isle and Auradon when they invade. She feels there should be a new queen that doesn’t get into such petty tantrums as Maleficent. Queen Nerissa: Queen Nerissa is the unofficial leader of the coven since it was her idea but it is impossible to convince the others of that. She wishes to get her ultimate revenge on Giselle, Edgar and the rest of Auradon by becoming the tyrant.

Ursula: Ursula is smartly setting her sights on just ruling Atlantica. Unless she gets bored. Then she might expande her pool of options. She mainly just wants to stick it to King Triton and when it comes to execution time. She isn’t going to make the mistake of keeping his soul, she wants to destroy it. Mother of Uma.

Circe: Very bitter about ending up on the Isle even after Helen of Troy vouched for her to stay in Auradon. So to say that she wants to crush Adam to the bone is understatement. She wants him to grovel. And if she can find that one good man while she’s at it, that would be a plus. Mother of Calix.

Mother Gothel: Though she has an intense rivalry with Grimhilde since day one about hoarding the scarce beauty products available on the Isle, she is her closest supporter now when it comes to finding magic for revenge and curing wrinkly skin. She is the mother of Ginny who she doesn’t dote on nearly as much as she did with Rapunzel.

Yzma: She wants Kuzcotopia and she will do anything and everything to get it even if it means teaming up with a bunch of “old hags” (yes pot calling kettle). Still remains overdramatic and delusional. Has a semi-dependent abusive relationship with her children Zevon and Yzla.

Morgaine Le Fey: Morgaine Le Fey, like Grimhilde, is quiet when it comes to group work but she is always observing for everyone else’s weaknesses and flaws that she will undoubtedly exploit when she becomes Queen of Camelot. Mother of Morrían.

Nasira: Sister to Jafar and mother of Jade and Mozonroth. She isn't nearly as enthusiastic about ruling Agrabah as her brother and Mozonroth are but she is just in it to get revenge on the stinking alley rat, Aladdin.

Queen La: Without her staff, her kingdom or leopard-man army, La has resorted to her Atlantean priestess magic again in hopes of getting off the Isle and reclaiming her staff. Still delusional, still lustful and hates having to depend on the rest of these people. Mother of Ranavalalona.

Jafar: Wishes to rule Agrabah and execute the royal family that “mistreated’ and “disrespected” him so much. Is in a constant battle with Mozonroth on the fact that he is the best sorcerer and will be ruler of Agrabah when they take over. Mozonroth: Finds Jafar to be a blowhard and believes that since he already took over the Black Sands and overthrew his former mentor that he should be doing far better plots. But with the Isle’s Magic Ban, he has to go with what he has. Besides that he would like to give his half-brother, Aladdin, a taste of “brotherly love” when he puts him in a headlock to crack his skull. Father to Malik and Imran Abbas.

Dr. Facilier: Like Ursula, Dr. Facilier smartly works on the fringes, setting his sights small on the Bayou before ruling the rest of Auradon. Father of Freddie and Celia.

All-Powerful Quartet: Generally speaking, if any villain was going to be taking over Auradon, it would be these 4. But due to their all-powerful status, they’d rather not exert themselves to do such menial tasks when they have other things to do.

Mirage: Evil Incarnate. So she does get to go off-Isle to maintain some balance of good and evil in the universe but generally enjoys the place. There is just so much evil and chaos everywhere and she glories in it. Mother of Illusion and Chimera.

Chernabog: Since being put on the Isle, Chernabog remains asleep on the mountain, waiting for his day to rise again.

Horned King: Without his deathless army, the Horned King remains in his cave, slowly wasting away. Mainly convenes with Hades.

Hades: God of the Underworld. So yeah, he has a full time job to do.

Mercenaries: The muscle behind the Coven, these are people who can’t adjust to domestic life, more 20th century living and miss the thrill of a fight. They deal with the dirtier deeds of murder and treason. The big boss (literal mob boss) is Sykes who rents their services out.

Sykes: Mob boss. Basically owner of the unofficially named, “Mercenary for Hire.” He never gets his own hands dirty but he has plenty of people who will do it for him. He keeps his people in line with his files of blackmail he has stocked up.

Clayton: Desperately misses the thrill of the hunt and more modern conveniences like a well-polish gun with enough ammo to shoot all these thieves to hell. Has a coworkers- with-benefits relationship with Helga. Father of Clay.

Rourke: Since being screwed over by magic, Rourke has kept a very rigid condition that he will only deal with non-magical situations. Still maintains his treasure-seeking ways and often pilfers from Jafar’s shop.

Helga Sinclair: One of the most intimidating humans on the Isle and of the mercenaries in general. She is known for her efficiency in work, stoic demeanor and same condition to her jobs as Rourke, no magic.

Muviro: Finds mercenary life to be very suitable since being exiled from his tribe. He does it less so for the money but for the glory and bloodlust. Father of Renavalalona.

Lady Caine: Self-proclaimed, “Queen of Thieves” and pirate extradonier. She is Captain Hook’s only real competition on the piracy front leaving a lot of punch-punch kiss tension between them. Many suspect that she is CJ’s bio mom since they share the same manipulativeness, “devil may care” attitude and self-centeredness. However she has no time for any child-rearing, and leaves James to do whatever neglectful work.

Gaston: Another mercenary that does it for the glory rather than the money. He needs something to do since his hunting days are over. Unfortunately he has not won a lot of admirers on the Isle for his chauvinistic attitude (Bad move considering that many of the women have actual powers). Father of Gaston Jr. Gaston the Second, Gil, Gaston (IV) the Great and Cosette.

Shan Yu: Finds himself very low being part of a mercenary gang instead of invading foreign countries. But it does provide some thrill that he can work on his own and make his homicides as bloody as he wants them to be.

Sa’Luk: Former “King of the Thieves,” Sa’Luk uses his mercenary work to get rid of his excess energy and anger towards his enemies. He joins Rourke in pilfering from Jafar’s shops and has a penchant for shiny gold trinkets.

Lt. Col. Jean Staquait: Former French officer and best to hire when you need someone to torture prisoners.

Authority Figures: Villains who are used to have some amount of power in more domestic/civilian pursuits. Pretty much like big corporations that constantly drain the other villains of cash, small trinkets, food and whatever other valuables are on the Isle.

Queen Saleen: One of the most malevolent mermaid, well only mermaid on the Isle. She spends most of her time in the Isle’s waters, avoiding the annoying two legged people. She is often in some sort of feud with Ursula.

Lady Tremaine: Guardian to Anthony Tremaine. Lady is getting on with her years and remains more or less infirmed in her house with a dozen grandchildren. She runs her house with an iron fist and is the most vocal on the Isle in support of child labor. She misses her days of richness and convenes with other elder women about how low they have fallen.

Medusa: Just like she did before the Isle, Medusa owns a pawn shop that is on a constant losing streak to Jafar’s so she has opened a small casino next to it too. She rather delusionally considers herself to be an entrepreneur and tries to work with those higher up in the social ladder to get more money herself.

Cruella De’Vil: While she spends most of her time tending to her furs and car and drinking, when she is sober she tries her hand at fashion design as in the olden days. She works closely with Lady Tremaine and Medusa.

Prince Hans: More or less the least-adjusted to the Isle with his loss of kingdom, servants and anyone gullible enough to believe his lies or manipulations. He is in close cahoots with Mozenrath and bought Drizella as his mistress. Father to Lars, his only son and heir since Stalyan refuses to ruin her figure again.

Sheriff of Nottingham: Serves as the Isle’s one man police force and a sucky job at that as he lets his henchmen squad do most of the work while he serves as trial judge and executioner with the Queen of Hearts: She works a bit on the judicial system, mainly the one who suggests the executions. She can also be found bringing most of the cases to court against henchmen who have wronged her or disobeyed her Tea Shop’s rules.

Captain Hook: The sole owner and commander of the coasts of the Isle while Ursula controls its seas. He is still as obsessive as ever about Peter Pan, his hand and crocodiles and can be found frequenting bars and other brawling areas on the Isle where his hook serves as a nasty weapon. Father of Harriet, Harry and CJ.

Gov. Ratcliff: The only one on the Isle that deals with paperwork. Sort of a treasurer of sorts. Not so much in organizing it but guarding it with his life and spends his time staring longingly at the piles wishing it were genuine gold than copper coins. Claude Frollo: Father of Claudine. Maintains his strict preaching and inflaming others against sin and towards prejudice. But he also tends to lose his inhibitions more and is a regular at the brothels of the Isle late at night. No woman has replaced his lust for Esmeralda though. Claudette seems to becoming close to that though.

Stalyan: Hans’ wife and Lady Caine’s part-time lover which drives Prince Hans crazy. She has her eyes on one thing and one thing only, money and bad boys that make her look good. She has no real ambitions of her own and depends on her father, the Baron, to give her what she wants. Mother of Lars.

Regular Citizens: Citizens that hold no sort of power and are pretty much everyone’s punching bags.

Morgana: Morgana would have been put part of the coven, but her sister, Ursula forbade it. Besides everyone knows that Ursula is far more powerful and talented than her sister. Instead Morgana is blackballed from any real position of respect and takes care of Ursula’s restaurant when she is away.

Marina Del Ray: Since losing her job to Sebastian she has become the Madam of the Isle’s seaside brothels, using the money to spiffy up her gaudy wardrobe.

The Bimbettes: Claudette (red dress) used to be Gaston’s gf but left him after he tried to “throw away” their daughter, Cosette, to try for a boy. She has since then been seen with the likes of Prince Hans, Mozenrath and Frollo. Laurette (yellow dress), the mother of Gastons 1-3 is Gaston’s favorite. Paulette (green dress), Gaston’s official wife is more or less his servant/punching bag and mother to Gil.

Drizella Tremaine: Since she couldn’t be married to Prince Hans, she has settled for being his mistress whenever he and Stalyan have a fight. A thankless position since she regularly bends over (literally and metaphorically) to his will and gets discarded like trash every time.

Lefou and Smee: Live together and own a kinda profitable gun and fishing shack. By far the best parents on the Isle due to their goofy more sympathetic natures.

Jasper and Horace: Still devoted henchmen of Cruella, they serve as secretaries, gophers and all manner of assistance to her. Fathers to Jace and Harold.

Ivy De’Vil: Mother of Diego, is the brains behind Cruella’s beauty designs since she isn’t drunk all the time. Can be considered one of the better mothers on the Isle.

Animals: No explanation needed

Scar, Zira, Shere Khan, Sabor, Benzai, Ed and Shenzi, Tublat, Hista

Couples: Captain Hook and Lady Caine (fight-hate sex rivalry. Child- CJ)

Lady Caine and Stalyan (with-benefits)

Stalyan and Prince Hans (Married. Child- Lars)

Prince Hans and Drizella (affair, possibly Dizzy?)

Mozenrath and Hans (Hans swears it was an accident. Or he was too drunk. Or it was magic)

Lady Caine and Hans (Revenge against Stalyan)

Queen Grimhilde and Prince Hans (One night stand)

Ursula and Dr. Facilier (fling, potentially Freddie and Uma)

Frollo and Claudette (with-benefits)

Gaston and Laurette (Affair/borderline married. Children- Gaston Jr. Gaston the Second, Gaston (IV) the Great)

Gaston and Paulette (Married. Child- Gil)

Lefou and Paulette (Lefou deux, drunken night of pity sex because Gaston’s treatment of them)

Smee and Lefou (Couple. Adopted Sammy)

Ivy De’Vil and Frollo (One night stand. Child-Diego)

Mozonroth and Morgaine Le Fey (Fling)

Clayton and Helga Sinclair (co-workers with benefits)

Queen La and Muviro (Married and dumped. Children- Ranavalalona. Musala, Taytu Betuvira, and unnamed, deceased)

Queen La and Clayton (Fling- Leopold, deceased)

Queen La and Gaston (Fling. Children-Amina and Shaka, deceased)

Queen La and Rourke (Fling. Child- Euware, deceased)

Queen La and Mozonroth (Fling. Child-Sarounia, deceased)

Shan Yu and Sa’Luk (Once- There’s no straight men in the trenches)

[vannminner]

-

Where Magic Flows

-

A03

Fanfiction

-

Part One: Through This Night

-

Her shock had barely begun to settle before Honeymaren returned to her feet. She was panting. Her heart beat erratically beneath her ribs. She decidedly ignored it while taking a staggering breath. Honeymaren pushed herself away from Elsa and redirected the hilt of her spear back at the red cloak.

“You will stay away from her.” She sharply commanded.

“Honeymaren, no- I,” Elsa’s voice faded. Emotions shifted as her eyes flickered between the figure and her friend.

“Your magic is no match against us, Elsa, and see how another has fallen victim to the Queen of Ice.” The last of their statement was directed at those surrounding them. Behind the red silk, the figure's words rang like a melody; soft and soulful. “Elsa of Arendelle has always accepted payment in the form of sacrifice… And always in exchange for their love. It appears she of Ahtohallan, now follows in suit.”

Snarling, Honeymaren drove forward with her spear. “How dare you talk about Elsa as if you know her! You know nothing!”

Laughing beneath the shadows of their veil, the figure turned their head. “Oh, but I do know Elsa; better than most, I suppose. However, a more important concern remains- does the young princess remember me?”

Gloved hands wrapped around the hooded opening of their cloak. The fabric pulled back from the figure's face, revealing a women with fair skin and golden hair. From their brown eyes, held in evening shadows, to their tall build; nothing about this woman appeared familiar. She wasn’t from Arendelle. Her melodic yet clipped accent, confirmed that much.

“I don’t know you.” Elsa stated. Her brow pinched, but only slightly.

“This does not come as a surprise to me.” The woman continued. “I remind you, you should, though…”

Elsa quickly shook her head. “No, no riddles! Tell me who you are and what you want from me.”

“Patience, young one.” Her hand raised to silence Elsa. “Do you not know it is ill mannered to make demands when you are so clearly… outnumbered?”

The woman stepped forward again, and Honeymaren stood her ground.

“I no longer have the luxury of patience!” Elsa snapped. “My friend requires help, or my magic will freeze her heart!”

Very slowly, the woman’s shoulders drew into her ears. Her hands turned to their palms. “Your foolish friend is as good as dead, then. Any stalling you continue with now will only provoke me to end her life sooner.”

Elsa’s teeth grit behind her lips. Rage surged beneath her skin. “Say your peace. Make your demands, but do not expect me to meet them.”

The woman laughed, and her voice sang with a pitch like a singing bird.

“Oh, Elsa, Elsa, Elsa… how ignorant you continue to be…”

Her two fingers raised above her head, and the woman snapped. The hoods fell from the other cloaked figures in unison. Elsa stared hard. She was standing center to what appeared to be, a female coven.

Their formation briefly parted as a thirteenth member crossed through their circle. Behind them, a hooded-captive dragged at their feet. The body was dumped before the red woman. She smiled graciously at her aid and dismissed them toward the others.

The woman then leaned down. Her smile maintained. Her dark eyes locked on Elsa, and she freed the canvas from around the body’s head.

Elsa gasped. “Kristoff!” Her voice fell to a whisper. She made moves to step forward, but Honeymaren turned her spear, holding Elsa back.

Kristoff’s eyes opened at the sound. They gave a long, fatigued roll, before he slipped out of consciousness once more.

“When will your friends and family learn to leave well enough alone? Do they not see the truth reflected in the eyes of the woman they condemn their lives for? “ The woman snickered. “It is only fair to say, I see what they cannot. I know what grows within you, child. I know what storm you fight inside.”

“Please, what do you want from me? You have my attention now!” Elsa’s hands pleaded at her side.

“Finally, Elsa of Ahtohallan learns some sense. Good girl.” The woman commended with ease.

She stepped forward once again, this time not stopping when Honeymaren extended her spear. The woman snapped her fingers. In a flash, Honeymaren’s spear had turned to dust. She was stunned, looking down at the red grit covering her hands. Seeing her distracted, the woman circled in slowly around the pair.

Honeymaren quickly shook from her shock. She slid in at Elsa’s side. Her chest drew into Elsa’s shoulder as the woman came close enough for them to fully see.

She was young; perhaps only a few years older than Elsa. Her eyes were like slow burning embers, and her cheeks freckled with ash.

“You see me now, Elsa.” Her finger brushed against Elsa’s chin. Honeymaren growled, moving in closer against her friend. “You see we are both quite similar, yes? I, too, was born with powers, but unlike you, I was ostracized for mine. Imagine a child abandoned by parents whose fear towards her outweighed their love… And so, at thirteen I was forced to leave my country behind. I sailed by ship to find work in the Western Lands, and make more for myself than I could have at home.

“Now, my first job in your country was selling fish on the streets. The men cut my hair short, making me resemble a boy. I worked for ten long hours a day- in the hot sun, and on days so cold my hands would numb. I did this for many months, but then I was finally rewarded for my service. I befriended an older woman from the Kingdom of Arendelle. She was kind, always coming to me for fish. She reminded me of the mother I would never have, and the one I might of had if I been had born here instead. Regardless, this woman found me a work placement in the castle. I would serve as a handmaiden for two young princesses there…”

She smiled slowly. The woman’s eyes sparkled with mirth.

“Yes, Elsa… if you will recall, it was I who worked for you.”

Elsa’s expression never faltered. She remained stern even when she felt Honeymaren hug tighter to her side. She was cold, but Elsa could not be certain, how cold. She didn’t know if it was her own fear, or the growing night, but Honeymaren’s cool skin reminded Elsa that they did not have much time.

“My name was Cleyomey back then,” The woman continued. “However, now I am called Cleyo. I was working for three years at the palace, and I felt I had finally found my place; my new home. But you know what happens next, don’t you, Elsa?” Cleyo nodded with a slight turn of her head. “Yes, I was terminated by the royal family at seventeen- placed on a boat, and returned to my home country.

“Not many things went right for me after that. I was lost between places for a long time, and struggling to understand why magic had cursed my life before it began. I was starving and lonely, but then I discovered myself in a place I could not have anticipated.”

Cleyo came to sit against the log in front of the dying fire. She stoked it briefly with a discarded stick before turning back to Elsa.

“You see, my people, my country; they fear magic. Even more than your parents did, I am afraid. Magic was seen as a direct act of disobedience against the gods, and more importantly; against our kings. Yet, I had found myself in a place where not everyone felt this way. While drifting, I happened upon a group of sister mages who taught me to appreciate my gifts.

“For the first time in my life I did not hate who I was, and I didn’t fear the powers I held beneath my skin. I learned to love magic, more than I ever believed possible, too. I loved magic, yes, but I was also taught how I could love more.

“Mages have much intelligence.” Cleyo smirked. Her eyes curled, and her shoulder shrugged upward. “They know how magic flows through the earth. They see how our natural elements respond to that magic, and understand the careful balance between the two sides. The mages also studied our world’s creation. They moved beyond religion, beyond talk of gods and goddesses, and look at how natural phenomenons created the bridge between magic and all things living. This is how I know of Ahtohallan. This is why I am certain it is from there in which you were gifted your magic.

There are places like Ahtohallan which exist all over the world. They live in tandem with the life around them. There are some places out there which have already been exploited. Others are still waiting to be found. Yet, regardless of their status, the sister mages seek more than exploitation. We wish to learn how these places decided which powers to gift, and to whom. Then, we will end by draining its magic. We will restore the balance in favor of those who can wield it, and only those who can truly understand.”

Hearing her silence, Elsa drew in a sharp breath. Her neck pulled straight and her eyes briefly met with Honeymaren’s.

“I cannot allow you to enter Ahtohallan.” Elsa’s response was blunt. “Even if I wanted to, the forest has lost its balance. I imagine this is due to your meddling, however it has caused the spirits to depart. I can no longer access Ahtohallan, myself. I’m afraid your plan here has failed.”

Cleyo chuckled again. Her head bobbled as it shook. “You take me for someone less clever than I am. I left the Nokk uninhibited by our influence. I see how you reach the land that calls you. So long as the Nokk stands, both you and I may access the frozen river.”

Elsa shivered as a chill drew up her spine.

Cleyo knew too much. She knew nearly everything Elsa had come to learn herself. She was dangerous, intelligent, yet still; her motives were unclear.

“It is silly to stand against the mages, Elsa. You cannot win. Tomorrow you will take me to Ahtohallan, just before the full moon rises, or else- not only will you lose your friend; but your sister shall lose her husband as well.”

The mages moved forward in unison as Cleyo’s words fell away. Elsa’s hands went up defensively, and they briefly faltered in their approach.

“What are you doing?” She demanded. “Honeymaren must be permitted to leave! She needs medical attention. I will be of no use to you if she dies!”

“Elsa, no.” Honeymaren’s hand settled at the small of Elsa’s back. “I am not leaving you here on your own!”

Their eyes met, and Honeymaren’s lowered.

“Your friend goes nowhere.” Came Cleyo’s sharp response. “You will make do with the supplies you have in your tent. If she lives, I add one more life to bargain with to my list. If she dies… it is your loss.”

-

It was minutes after midnight when Anna awoke with a start. The sudden knock at her door had her jumping to sit up. She gasped for air with a hand against her chest.

“Your majesty,” Her door opened.

Kai stood in the archway. His hands tucked behind his back. The light from the hall created a halo around his large form. Seeing it, Anna released a sigh and spun against her sheets.

“I regret to inform you that there has been a disturbance in the Kingdom. You must wake at once.”

“A disturbance?” Anna leapt from the bed, ignoring her disheveled appearance. “What kind of disturbance?”

Kai entered and pulled Anna’s robe from its hook. He placed it over her shoulders, his eyes following her skeptically.

“Ships have entered our waterways, ma’am. A dozen of them; they have sailed in from international seas.”

“Ships?” Anna questioned. Her head turned to the side.

Quickly, she hurried to her balcony and threw back the doors. With her hands wrapped tight around the banister, she looked out over the fjord. In the light of the near full moon, twelve white sails reflected off the water. Ships surround the far banks and blocked access to the estuary. Against the tide, they moved throughout Arendelle waterways; both silent and slow.

“Who are they?” Anna inquired, feeling Kai step in at her back.

“We are attempting to learn that now, your majesty. In the meantime, it is imperative that we relocate to the meeting hall with the Royal Guard.”

Anna took one last glance at the overrun fjord. Her heart beat fearfully, and she sighed.

“Give me two minutes.” She requested.

Kai bowed. He left her room at once, and waited for Anna just beyond the door.

-

Honeymaren and Elsa were directed into to her goahti. She had Honeymaren tucked safely into her side, and her arm wrapped tight around her waist. Together, they moved beneath the tarp. Elsa turned back to find Cleyo in the doorway. Her arms were crossed and her lips curled at their ends.

“You are here until the sun rises.” She explained. “Do not expect for one minute that you can overpower us. If you try, or if you attempt to leave, your sister’s husband dies while he sleeps. Am I understood?”

Lowering her eyes, Elsa nodded.

“Good. You always were quite an obedient child, weren’t you?” Cleyo dropped the tarp behind her, her feet never making a sound as she walked away from the hut.

Elsa moved out of the anxious hostage role, and into medical expert so quickly that Honeymaren’s head began to spin. She had the lantern brightened. The extra furs were pulled from her trunk, and her bed was turned down to its sheets.

“Come here, and don’t dawdle. We have to get you warm!”

When Honeymaren didn’t move, Elsa marched from her spot. She snatched Honeymaren’s hand and dragged her to the bed, attempting to lower her down.

“Why are you fighting me?” Elsa scolded. Honeymaren remained planted on her feet. “Please, be serious! I have seen how my magic affects people before.”

“Elsa…” Honeymaren searched for her blue eyes. She took their hands together, but was quickly shook away.

“Honeymaren. Stop! Can’t you see this is exactly what I was afraid would happen!”

Elsa’s emotions wavered behind her eyes. She couldn’t bring herself to look at Honeymaren. If she did, she was afraid she’d lose control.

She whispered now, “Please, get under the covers. Get warm, and stop fighting-”

Honeymaren’s hand pressed to Elsa’s lips. She didn’t pull it away until Elsa turned to her, surprised.

Slowly, Honeymaren’s head tipped forward. “Elsa, I’m okay...”

“What?” Her voice rose, and Honeymaren caught her mouth beneath her palm once more.

“I think I’m okay.” She said again. “Your magic didn’t hurt my heart, Elsa... My heart is okay.”

Elsa shook her head, attempting to free her mouth. Honeymaren’s hand caught Elsa’s and she pulled her to the bed to sit.

“You don’t understand! My magic works slow. It is painful!” A strange noise jared in Elsa’s throat. She turned her eyes to her lap.

“Elsa, I think we would know by now if something were happening to me. See?” She lifted her braid. “-no white hair. No chills. I feel fine!”

“What?” Elsa breathed again. Her hand tugged from Honeymaren’s and replaced against her forehead.

She was warm. Her tan complexion remained. Honeymaren appeared as she always did. Elsa watched her lips curl upwards, and all at once, the emotions she’d been holding back came flooding to the surface.

“What were you thinking?” Tears sprang to her cheeks. Elsa pushed roughly against Honeymaren’s shoulder before folding her arms protectively over her waist. “Are you crazy? Do you have a death wish or something? Are you always this reckless?”

Her fingers swept across Elsa’s face, and Honeymaren brushed the fallen tears from her red cheeks. “I didn’t know what was happening. I saw the blast coming back at you, and I couldn’t just stand there and watch you be hurt! You’ve already experienced so much in your life, Elsa. You tell me about the sacrifices, the pain, and how you’ve tried to overcome it all! You didn’t deserve this on top of it...”

“But you could have died! You still could! How can I move forward from this if I lost you as well?” Elsa drew back from Honeymaren. Her knees tucked against her chest.

Elsa’s breathing was shallow. Her eyes, wild. She was embarrassed by her tears, and by Honeymaren’s proximity. She wanted space; space to deal with her thoughts, but they’d been trapped inside together.

Elsa’s face buried between her legs, and she fought desperately for air.

“Hey, woah!” Honeymaren’s hand soothed over Elsa’s shoulders. “Take it easy. You've got this. Slow, deep breaths…”

“I can’t!” Elsa panicked. “I have to- we have to get out of here! I have to rescue Kristoff and get back to Arendelle. We can’t just wait in here until morning comes!”

Pushing her legs flat, Honeymaren pinched Elsa’s chin. She drew her eyes from her lap and softly smiled. “One step at a time, okay? You’re worrying yourself sick! We will figure this out together, but you have to take care of yourself first.”

“How can you say that? I should be taking care of you!” Elsa shook her head from Honeymaren’s hold. “You came back for me and you shouldn’t have! Now this, and I-” Suddenly, she froze. Her eyes turned wide and her head snapped to attention. “Kiss me- you have to kiss me!”

“Wait, what?” Honeymaren balked.

Elsa leaned toward her. Honeymaren braced a hand against her chest and held Elsa effectively away from her lips.

“It’s the only way!” Elsa continued. “Don’t think about it. You have to do it. It’s the only way to stop my powers from hurting you!”

Honeymaren was forced to stop her advances once more. “Elsa, I’m not going to do that…”

“Why not? Only true love can thaw a frozen heart! Please, we have to try! It’s the only way to guarantee that my magic won’t affect you.”

“This is silly…” Honeymaren stood. Her arms drew tight around her waist. “A true love's kiss isn’t going to save me, because I don’t need saving!”

Elsa shook her head. “But it doesn’t make any sense! Why wouldn’t it? My own sister was powerless against my magic!”

Shrugging, Honeymaren’s lips pressed flat. Her eyes drew to the side. “I don’t know. Perhaps because the attack was meant for you, it didn’t affect me?”

Elsa frowned and rose onto her knees. “It doesn’t work that way! Magic is magic, no matter what it’s intention is. But listen to me, please! Anna said a kiss should have worked if the two people care about each other enough to show their true feelings!”

Lines creased along Honeymaren’s forehead. Her eyes lowered sternly. “It’s not going to happen, Elsa! Forget about it. It’s not right!”

“Why?” Her expression darkened. “I thought you liked me in that way? Isn’t this exactly what we were fighting about three days ago now?”

Honeymaren sighed. Her cheeks turned pink. “Elsa, do you know how long before tonight I have thought about just that; about kissing you? Months! It has been months, but I am not going to do it like this! If I let you kiss me out of desperation- to fix something you weren’t responsible for in the first place… it wouldn’t be the same. It wouldn't be right! You were only just beginning to understand your feelings for me. You’re not ready for that step yet, and I won’t force you into it.”

“This is my decision!” Elsa defended harshly. She stood in front of Honeymaren, angry and with mused hair. “It’s not for you to say when I am ready for the next step. Only I can tell you that!”

Her tears returned, swelling below the lids of her eyes and spilling out onto her cheeks. Honeymaren hated seeing her like this. Elsa was always so regal; so composed. It was heartbreaking to witness, but Honeymaren also felt privileged to be allowed to see this vulnerable side of her.

Without a second thought, she took Elsa in her arms. Honeymaren’s hands settled at her back. She held her tight, willing Elsa to relax in her hold. When that didn’t work and her tears persisted; Honeymaren directed Elsa to the bed. Together, she laid them down over the soft quilt. Her legs curled upward, and Elsa cocooned herself into Honeyumaren’s chest.

“Looks like it’s your night to be coddled…” Honeymaren teased her at a whisper.

Elsa’s head drew up from her chest. “You find this funny?”

“It’s kind of funny.” Her nose scrunched, but Elsa continued to glare. “Listen…” Honeymaren encouraged her. She placed a hand against Elsa’s head and directed her ear down over her ribs. “My heart sounds fine, doesn’t it? And my skin is warm. There is no indication that your magic has hurt me, or that I am freezing to death...”

Angered, Elsa attempted to free herself from Honeymaren’s hold.

Honeymaren trapped her there. Her arms tightened around Elsa’s waist and she pulled her back down against her.

Once Elsa begrudgingly settled, Honeymaren quietly laughed. “If it makes you feel better, I will let you kiss me in the morning.”

“You are terrible! Do you know that?” Elsa cried, but did not move.  

Shaking her head, her laughter continued. “I know I am stubborn, and a little bit reckless, but I also know that I love you, Elsa of Arendelle. Now, get some rest. Put your worries aside. Together we will figure out how to stop this disaster, and we will return the forest as it once was.”

Elsa had gone siff in her arms upon hearing Honeymaren’s confession. She should have felt panicked, or even a little scared. However, instead Elsa felt a burst of warmth swirl around her chest. Honeymaren loved her, and that suddenly seem more magical than her powers ever could be.

She replaced her head against Honeymaren’s heart. Elsa nuzzled softly into the fabric of her shirt, listening to the steady beat beneath her ribs. Her own arm clung to Honeymaren’s waist. She drew her knees up, and curled onto her side.

“Thank you,” Elsa whispered. “-for loving me.”

-

Cheers,

-M.

[chwrpg]

ARDEN ATKINS. college sophomore; nineteen. sydney sweeney. TAKEN.

and, as amber atkins once said:

“Oh my God! Jesus Christ on a cross! Look, number one rule in a funeral home: never sneak up on the living. You never know who might have an enbalming needle or a skull saw in their hand. Mr. Larson’s son learned the hard way. He’s buried next to my grandpa.”

BEFORE THE PARTY;

At the age of nineteen, Arden has already achieved more than what most would have throughout their entire academic career. She’s always been a go-getter, possessing a dire need to propel herself forward in life in spite of the circumstances she’s been stuck with. Growing up on the wrong side of the tracks meant things never came easy, and the instability of her home life only ever seemed to add fuel to the fire. But rather than let it get her down, Arden continued to prosper, her home life and upbringing only making her work that much harder towards a better and brighter future. Even something as crushing as her parents split wouldn’t define how she felt towards life, and she refused to let a relationship filled with so much toxicity get the better of her, especially now that it was over.

Luckily, she’d had more of a say in the matter than most children did at her age. Once her father left, she was given a choice – stay in contact with him, or ditch him entirely along with the rest of her family. Arden chose the latter, feeling as though he didn’t deserve to have her in his life after the way he’d gone out. Her dad been a heavy drinker and gambler, blowing their money on odds that were never in his favor and coming home night after night smelling like cheap vodka and gin. It was only a matter of time before her mother followed suit, and more often than not she was following him around like a lost puppy, encouraging his conquests and going along for the ride as if she actually wanted to. If it hadn’t been for her grandmother stepping in when she had, the family would have lost more than just their house to his gambling. They would have lost Arden too.

Consequently, Arden’s father moved across country, leaving behind all of his bad habits for her mother to eventually outgrow with the help of Arden and her grandmother. Slowly but surely, they picked up the pieces, each getting jobs to compensate for everything they’d lost in his drunken endeavors and moving into a trailer big enough to hold the three of them. It didn’t seem like a lot, and it certainly wasn’t as much as they’d had before, but Arden could be happy so long as they were all together. In fact, she made sure she was.

Whether she cared to admit it or not, a lot of her determination stemmed from her father’s absence. Coming from nothing meant she wanted to be everything, and that was exactly why she picked up as many extracurricular activities as she did. Her GPA stayed at an impressive 4.0, and her list of accolades grew with each school year that passed. It was only a matter of time before she added beauty pageants into the mix as well, her curiosity getting the best of her when she just so happened to be handed a flyer for a local competition while she was at school.

Had the idea not fallen into her lap, Arden would have never given pageantry a chance. The idea of standing in front of a crowd wearing a dress that cost more than she earned at Mallrats and reciting answers like she was reading from a book all seemed nauseating to the girl. But when the opportunity presented itself, she couldn’t quite help but take it, no matter how out of character it was for her.

Surprisingly, the pageant world wasn’t nearly as daunting as she’d thought it would be. If anything, it was a land of opportunity for someone who wanted to take steps forward in their professional life, and not just some superficial show put on for the sake of exploiting women. Networking and meeting people all seemed to be a part of the job, and Arden didn’t mind using that to her advantage if it meant getting her name out there. People like Diane Sawyer and Oprah Winfrey had done exactly that, and those were exactly the kind of women she aspired to be. Journalism had always been her career of choice, and if she wanted to carry on to writing professionally one day, she needed to make an active effort to do so.

But it just so happened that she excelled at it, too. Where she lacked in expensive gowns and jewels, she made up for in the talent portions and the Q and A’s. Her reputation in the pageant community quickly became sterling, and it only took her a couple of pageants in practice before she was winning every title she went for. Most girls spent their entire lives preparing for the stage, but the star quality that came with being a beauty queen just happened to come naturally to Arden, as if she had been put on earth to do exactly that. It was thrilling to say the least, and despite her lack of effort, Arden enjoyed every second of it.

But with all success comes a certain degree of jealousy, and it was only natural for Arden to turn a couple of heads with each title she earned. How did the poor, dorky girl manage to steal every one of their crowns anyways? Saying it was unfair to her competitors would have been the understatement of the century, and it wasn’t until she beat out Beverly in a Miss Rosewood pageant that her greatness was truly realized.

From that moment on, she made herself a powerful enemy. One that would ensure that she never won again. Arden might not have seen the cutthroat, gory parts of the pageant world yet, but Beverly and her friends were more than willing to show her.

May the best beauty queen win.

DURING THE PARTY;

Arden had initially planned on staying in on the night of the party. With the Miss Chicago pageant looming, it only seemed right that she dedicate her spare time to working on her finale gown, ensuring that every little detail of it was preened to perfection. But after receiving a text from Luna, Arden felt compelled to make an appearance, if just to give the girl a quick hello and acknowledge the fact that she’d invited her at all. Arden had always gotten the distinct impression that she and the rest of her friends didn’t like her, so the fact that they’d extended the hand to her was as amazing as it was astonishing.

She hadn’t been at the party for five minutes before Rosie was shoving a red cup in her face and pulling her towards the bar, the other girls waiting there for her with shots in hand and smiles reaching up to their ears. Arden typically didn’t drink, but they were insistent that she break out of her shell for the night and have a good time with them now that she was finally a part of their group. So despite her morals, she went along with it, taking any and all drinks they threw at her and not stopping until she the three of them disappeared into the crowd, leaving Arden all by her lonesome. She wasn’t sure where they’d gone, but by that point she was too far gone to care, so she made a mental note to text Luna about it in the morning and headed home.  

The rest of the night seemed to happen in a flash. The home she came back to wasn’t at all like the one she had left. Fireman, police officers, and onlooking neighbors flooded the surrounding area, each one of them in a state of panic as a result of the scene before them. It was her trailer up in flames, smoke radiating off of its surfaces as the firefighters worked helplessly to try and extinguish it. Then, out of the corner of her eye, was her mom being carried out on a stretcher, her body laced with equal amounts of burn marks and ash.

Amongst the chaos, Arden could only wonder: How on earth did this happen?

alternate faceclaims and prompts.

[melodiouswhite]

Classic literature vine compilation: The Strange Case of Dr. Jekyll & Mr. Hyde, pt. 02

A/N: Here is the second part of the Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde vine compilation! :D

Lady Summers: Imagine if someone handed you a box full of the items you have lost throughout your life.

Utterson: It WOULD be nice to get my sense of purpose back.

Lanyon: Oh wow, my childhood innocence! Thank you for finding this.

Poole: I knew I lost that potential somewhere!

Jekyll: My will to live! I haven’t seen this in years!

Hyde: Mental stability, my old friend!

Lady Summers: Gentlemen, could you lighten up a little?

Jekyll, singing: This is the day, see it sparkle and shine-

Jekyll, singing: When all I've lived for, becomes mine!

Hyde: Lol, nope.

Lady Summers: Look at your glasses, gentlemen. Do you think, that they're half full or half empty?

Utterson: Half full.

Jekyll: Half empty.

Hyde: You haven't even touched it yet!

Lanyon: It's a glass of champagne.

Lady Summers: Well, I see a glass that's half full and half empty.

Lady Summers: And I think, that I should drink my champagne already.

Board of Govenors: Get murdered by Hyde one by one.

The whole city: OMG, SOME HYPOCRITICAL SICKOS GOT MURDERED HOW TERRIBLE!!! EVERYONE PANIC!!!

Me: Oh for fuck's sake, it's 1880s London, people get murdered every fucking hour!

Lady Summers: Being a telepath has its downsides.

Hyde: Like?

Lady Summers: You know, how I can control, when I look into other people's minds, but keep hearing their thoughts all the time, as if they were talking out loud?

Hyde: Uh, yeah?

Lady Summers:  Well, sometimes I hear things that literally no one wants to hear.

Hyde: Is that why you're so grumpy right now?

Lady Summers: You'd be grumpy too, if you had to listen to someone thinking about bedding their own mother.

Hyde: …

Lady Summers: Dammit, me and my big mouth.

Hyde: What? I don't have a mother.

Lady Summers: No, but hearing you think about your physical exploits with Dr. Jekyll isn't much better.

Lady Summers: I like to believe that I'm a tolerant, open-minded person.

Lady Summers: I'm very nice.

Lanyon: You punched a baron in the face and gave him a black eye, Milady.

Lady Summers: That twit made fun of your beautiful eyes. He clearly asked for it.

Lanyon: …  O///O

Lady Summers: I used to believe as a child, that insane asylums were places, where insane people were cured.

Lady Summers: *scowls* But then I realised that they're just suburbs of hell, where the patients are treated like criminals at best and animals at worst.

Jekyll: What happened?

Lady Summers: I saw one.

Lady Summers, a German noblewoman living in England in the 1880s: Since the relationship between Britain and Germany is beginning to get complicated, people keep asking me, where my loyalties lie.

Lady Summers: They lie with my home country.

Lady Summers: And it's not Germany.

Lady Summers: Doctor Jekyll, what are you doing?

Jekyll: Monologuing.

Lady Summers: …

Lady Summers: Doctor, that's not how you confront the person who ruined your life.

Lady Summers: And I'm not referring to Mr. Hyde here.

Jekyll: …

Jekyll: Is this … chamomile tea?!

Lady Summers: Yes. Now stop sulking, chamomile tea is healthy for your digestion.

Jekyll: I know that! I'm a doctor, Milady!

Lady Summers: Why are you not drinking, then?

Jekyll: Chamomile tea is disgusting!

Lady Summers: …

Lady Summers: I swear, I'm talking to a five-year-old.

Lady Summers: I try to be as British as possible.

*something is out of place*

Lady Summers: WHAT DID I SAY ABOUT MOVING THE FURNITURE IN MY HOUSE??? AND WHERE ARE MY FOUNTAIN PENS?!?!

The butler: She's trying.

Jekyll, Utterson & Lanyon: …

Jekyll, singing: The world has gone insane!

Hyde: Nah, sweetheart, it's just you.

Hyde: I'm very generous! What about that one time I gave blood?

Utterson, suspiciously: Whose blood?

Hyde: *shrugs* Some guy's. 

Jekyll: I've had about enough of your sarcasm.

Hyde: Just about? So you could have some more, if you wanted through it.

Jekyll: That's exactly what I'm talking about.

Lady Summers: I, uh, I stayed up way too late.

Lanyon: Why don't you stay awake all day and then go to bed, like, at nine tonight.

Lady Summers: That's a risky fucking move.

Lanyon: Do it anyway.

Lady Summers: I'm gonna do it anyway.

Jekyll: Hastie, why am I so ugly?

Lanyon: You're not. Literally every single person you know has told you that you're good-looking.

Jekyll: Yeah, but they're just saying that, because they feel bad for me.

Lanyon: Feel bad for you?! No, no.

Lanyon: Well, most of us find you bloody annoying.

Hyde, holding a mouth harp: You play it, you get a hundred million pounds. But a hundred million people will die.

Hyde: *plays the mouth harp*

Utterson: EDWARD, NO!!! 

Hyde: Henry, I don't want to continue torturing you.

Jekyll: *sighs* Yes, you do.

Hyde: YES! YES I DO!!! >:D

Hyde: Your honour, I'm not trying to bribe you, but would you like this other half of this cosmic brownie?

Utterson: Dear god! *_*

Utterson: THIS MAN GOES FREE!

Utterson: Would you rather fight a bunch of kindergartners-

Hyde: I wanna fight kindergartners!

Utterson: That's not even the whole-

Hyde: THOSE KIDS ARE GETTING SLAPPED! 

Hyde: Well, I'm not gonna tell you anything!

Lady Summers: Is that so? Well, I suppose I'll keep this delicious nougat to myself.

Utterson: Mr. Hyde, now that I have you strapped to this chair, you will come.

Hyde: Now, that's what I call bondage!

Utterson: If it pleases the court, I might read a direct quote.

Judge: I'll allow it.

Utterson: *reads out loud* "I'm literally crying."

Hyde: I WAS NOT!!!

Utterson: YOU WERE!!!

Jekyll: Are you ticklish?

Hyde, thinking: Oh god, I don't wanna say yes, because I then get tickled, but if I say no, he might get suspicious and then tickle me anyway, so I don't know-

Jekyll: Where's the entire box of cookies that I just bought.

Hyde: That's almost an accusatory tone-

Hyde: -but there is none. Yeah, I ate the whole box, because I have no self-control.

Utterson: Do you wanna take our relationship to the next level?

Jekyll: Yes, but I have to warn you: I'm a bitch in the boardroom AND A MONSTER IN THE BEDROOM!!!

Simon Stride: Hey, Lisa, wanna marry me?

Lisa Carew: I SAID NO FIVE TIMES, GET A CLUE!!!

Simon Stride, holding a game of clue: Hey, Lisa-

Lisa Carew: GODDAMMIT!!! 

Jekyll: Do you ever lay down, and then you start to cry for a bit and you don't know why?

Jekyll: Can you file this?

Hyde: Oh yeah, just gimme a sec, 'cuz I'm in the middle of this huge existential crisis right now and it's almost time for my daily breakdown, so … 

Jekyll: I was wondering, if you wanna go out?

Lanyon: Yeah. *opens the door*

Jekyll: Where are you going?

Lanyon: Out. The farther away from you, the better.

Priest: Where's the holy water?

Hyde: *innocuously sipping from a cup*

Jekyll: So many women and men like me, it's, like, really annoying.

Hyde: … *inhales*

Hyde: NNNNAAAHH- 

Lanyon: Alright, if you were a flower, what would you be?

Lady Summers: I'd be a little-mist-camellia, because nobody knows I exist.

Lanyon: Very educated!

Lanyon: Oh cool, a mood ring! What does blue mean?

Hyde: It means "don't talk to me".

Lanyon: What does purple mean?

Hyde: Also "don't talk to me".

Lanyon: What does green mean?

Hyde: *holds up middle finger* Did you notice the finger it's on?

Lanyon, when meeting Lady Summers for the second time: Hey, I know you!

Lady Summers: You don't know me. I don't even know me.

Lanyon: Nice to see you again!

Lanyon: Listen, Milady, if you don't change your attitude, I'll have to talk to your husband.

Lady Summers: …

Lanyon: … Wait.

Lady Summers, a widow: If you figure out, how to talk to my husband, please let me know.

Lanyon: Alright, Milady, if you were an animal, what would you be?

Lady Summers: I'd be a black sheep.

Lanyon: Okay, very expressive!

Lanyon: Okay, if you were a fruit, what would you be?

Lady Summers: I'd be a tomato, because no one accepts me as part of the group.

Lanyon: … Very creative!

Lanyon: Alright, if you were an office supply, what would you be?

Lady Summers: I'd be paper, because everyone uses me and then throws me away.

Lanyon: … Very descriptive!

Lanyon: Milady, if you were a sweet, what would you be and why?

Lady Summers: I'd be black liquorice, because nobody likes me.

Lanyon: I'm sure, someone does!

Lanyon: In fact, I do!

Jekyll: Bye! Have a good day!

Lanyon: Have a great day!

Jekyll: Have an amazing day!

Lanyon: Have an incredible day!

Jekyll: HAVE A MAGICAL BLOOMING DAY, YOU SON OF A- 

Lanyon: If you were a spirit animal, what would it be?

Lady Summers: I'd be a unicorn, because nobody believes in me.

Lanyon: Very imaginative!

Jekyll: It was nice to meet you.

Lanyon: It was great to meet you.

Jekyll: It was wonderful to meet you.

Lanyon: It was fantastic to meet you.

Jekyll: IT WAS A PLEASURE TO MEET YOU, LITTLE BUGGER-

Lady Summers in public, singing: I wanna be where the people aren't. -_-

Lady Summers: *ominously* No one will ever find your body-

Lady Summers: *cheerfully* -as attractive as I do! Let's grab dinner!

Lanyon: O///O

Lady Summers: Oh my god, is it really that late? I should go outside!

Lady Summers: *opens the front door and looks out*

Lady Summers: That's enough.

Hyde to Utterson:  I love waking up next to you, babe.

Hyde: But I fell asleep on the left side and woke up on the right-

Hyde: *grabs a knife* -SO WHERE THE FUCK DID YOU GO LAST NIGHT?!

Jekyll: Hey, what are you doing tonight?

Utterson: More like, who am I doing, amirite?

Jekyll: …

Utterson: …

Jekyll: …

Utterson: … I'm not doing anything, what's up?

Utterson: When life gives you lemons, make lemonade.

Hyde: Well, unless they give you water and sugar, your lemonade is gonna be pretty sucky.

Utterson: …

Utterson: This elusive creature has been dwelling in this room for the last three days and-

*Hyde comes dashing out of the lab*

Utterson: OH MY GOD, THERE IS IT, IT GRABS SOME FOOD-

*Hyde retreats back into the lab*

Utterson: -aaand it's gone.

Utterson: Story time! Into the bag he snuck, looking for treasure!

Hyde: *runs away giggling*

Poole: He's looking for my sweets. :)

Utterson: Oh, but his plans were foiled! XD

Lanyon: *ominously* I'm gonna chop you up-

Lanyon: *cheerfully* -SOOOME FRESH VEGETABLES TO HELP MAINTAIN YOUR KILLER SHAPE! *starts cutting vegetables*

Lady Summers: *thinking* Cute.

Lady Summers: *ominously* Your days are numbered-

Lady Summers: *cheerfully* -WIIITH THIS FRIENDSHIP CALENDER TO MARK YOUR FUTURE SUCCESSES! *laughs*

Lanyon: *laughs*

Lanyon: *ominously* You're just one Claude-

Lanyon: *cheerfully* MOOONET PAINTING, BECAUSE YOU'RE A WORK OF ART! THAT SPARKLES! :D

Lady Summers: v///v

Lady Summers: *ominously* Drop-dead-

Lady Summers: *cheerfully* GOOOORGEOUS, that's what I'd call you with or without this blush! :D

Lanyon: O///O

Lanyon: *ominously* I want you to get lost-

Lanyon: *cheerfully* -IIIIIN MY EYES AS I GET LOST IN YOURS!

Lady Summers: Alright! :D

Lady Summers: *ominously* We should break up-

Lady Summers: *cheerfully* -YOUR BUSY SCHEDULE FOR SOME WELL-DESERVED SNUGGLE TIME AND CUDDLES! :D

Lanyon: Aww! :3

Hyde: Story time! There they were! And they were beautiful! As soon as they were seen, hearts swelled!

Poole: 'Cause I have your food? XD

Hyde: YEEEEE- :D

Lanyon: *ominously* You're so stupid-

Lanyon: *cheerfully* -LYYYY TALENTED! YOU DELICATE, BEAUTIFUL BUTTERFLY!

Lady Summers: ^///^

Hyde: What's it like, being tall?

Jekyll: I'll show you. *lifts him up*

Hyde: So beautiful. *_*

Utterson: Story time! He had no clue he was about to run into a BRIDGE!!!

Hyde: *startles*

Utterson: -That was nowhere near! XD

Hyde: Why the frick would you say that?!

Lanyon: Story time! NO MATTER HOW FAST HE RAN, HE COULD NOT ESCAPE THE DEMON! BUT HE WOULD NOT LET HIS SOUL BE TAKEN TODAY! XD

Jekyll: *throws his arms up* AHHHHHHH!!! XD

Lady Summers: Story time! On this blessed day, these two proclaimed their love!

Jekyll: AWWWWW, BABE! :D *tackles Utterson*

Utterson: *hugs back*

Jekyll & Utterson: *tumble in the snow*

Lady Summers: Oh shoot, are you okay?! XD

Lanyon: Story time! He'd been waiting his whole life for someone to sweep him off his feet! ;)

Jekyll: *sweeps Utterson off his feet* :D

Utterson: WHOA! :D

Jekyll, singing and twirling around with Utterson in his arms: AND CAN YOU FEEL THE LOVE TONIGHT- :D

Hyde: You think you're tough?

Lady Summers: Oh yeah!

Lady Summers: *brushes her teeth*

Hyde: -_-

Lady Summers: *whips out a bottle of orange juice*

Hyde: No!

Lady Summers: *drinks the orange juice* >:D

Hyde: *runs away screaming*

Utterson: THIEF! YOU'RE UNDER ARREST FOREVER!!!

Jekyll: WAIT, NO, WHAT DID I STEAL?!

Utterson: My heart. >///<

Jekyll: O///O

Poole: Story time! In every group of friends, there's the dumb one.

Utterson, Lanyon & Lady Summers: *point at Jekyll*

Jekyll: Really?! -_-

The others: *laugh*

Utterson: Hey Hyde, we got some ice cream out here!

Hyde: *comes out of the lab* ICE CREAM!!!

Poole: *knocks him out with a frying pan*

Utterson: … I'm shocked this always works.

Poole: I know, let's get the notes.

Hyde: I keep telling you, man, you gotta stop letting people walk all over you!

Jekyll, lying on the floor: Okay.

Hyde: What's wrong, kid?

Little girl: Nobody likes me! Q_Q

Hyde: All that matters is what's inside-

Hyde: *pulls out a gun* -your wallet.

Little girl: WHAT?!

Utterson: Oh, Miss got grief?

Lady Summers, 20 years ago: Yes, sir, my husband is dead.

Utterson: Oh, I didn't know you were married, may I congratulate!

Lady Summers: … *thinking* English people.

Lady Summers: Did you know I can read minds?

Jekyll: Really?!

Lady Summers: I'll show you.

Hyde, inside Jekyll's mind: AAAAHHHHHHHHHH!!!

Lady Summers: OH MEIN GOTT!!!

Jekyll: Yeah, I got a lot going on.

Hyde: Your honour! Permission to treat the witness as hostile!

Utterson: Permission granted!

Hyde: I'm gonna shoot you in the face!

Enfield: That'll ruin my day!

Utterson: You're being charged for murder. What do you plead?

Hyde: … I'm sorry, I was just doing this thing, where I wasn't listening, just staring at your chin. 

Poole: Sir, there's been a murder.

Jekyll: Was it you?

Poole: No!

Jekyll: Was it me?

Poole: … No?

Jekyll: *sigh of relief* Okay.

Poole: Doctor, come out, come out, wherever you are!

Jekyll: I'm gay!

Lanyon: Where are you?!

Lady Summers: I give you a hint - Japan.

Lanyon: You're taking this game of Hide and Seek way too seriously.

Utterson: Do you want some vitamins, bro?

Jekyll: No, bro.

Utterson: Why, bro?

Jekyll: Because you're the only one, who gives me strength, bro.

Utterson: Bro!

Jekyll: I'm not a cake face. I'm an ice cream cake face.

Jekyll: Under this thick cosmetic frosting is my cold interior.

Hyde: Hi, I'm the cold interior! :D

Hyde: I heard you were checking out my boyfriend?

#1 random guy: Uh, yeah?

Hyde: *gets out a knife* WELL YOU'LL NEVER SPEAK TO MY BOYFRIEND AGAIN!!! *throws knife*

#1 random guy: *dodges knife* Sir, I'm a cashier, it's my job!

Hyde: Hey!

Utterson: *jolts awake*

Hyde: *holds a gun to Utterson's head* Who are you dreaming about?

Utterson: Uh, you? O_O

Hyde: Okay. Just checking. ^_^

Lady Summers: I don't always play the victim.

Lady Summers: But when I do, it ruins other people. >:D

Lady Summers: You can make fun of me. You can make fun of my life style.

Lady Summers: But if you make fun of my family, friends or clients, I'll make sure you'll never be able to show your face in public again.

Hyde: Why are you always on your desk?

Jekyll: Why are you always on my nerves?

Hyde: True, my bad.

Jekyll: I CAN'T FIND IT!

Hyde: What are you looking for?

Jekyll: My happiness.

Hyde: Your what?

Lady Summers: How tall are you?

Jekyll: Six feet.

*reverse*

Jekyll: How tall are you, Milady?

Lady Summers: *glowers* I am 4 feet, seven inches and nine tenths tall, I will destroy you!

[squiddybeifong]

Texas Talks

For some ungodly reason they were in Galveston.

Honestly, they didn’t have to stay in the US. And even if they did they had certain areas of California, New Jersey… hell, basically anywhere that wasn’t constantly crawling with JL surveillance were prime meet-up spots. Any city in any country on any continent on this god-forsaken planet, so why? Why were they in Galveston? Of all places for Harley to choose…

But the clown had been adamant then and she was adamant now. Her (admittedly blood sprinkled) wheeled boots skipping against the wood, Harley skated to the very edge of the pier. A yelp escaped as her heelys caught in a knot and she tumbled head over end, catching herself with a springing handstand.

She shook her head as she shakily regained her balance, giggling to herself as she rolled further along the pier. Her friends’ silent questions were loud in the air and Harley did a little spin, her chuckles escaping louder. “Come on, you guys! Where else can we be just a few minutes away from Texas City! And look at all that water,” The blonde tossed her head back, laughing at the fine saltwater mist that hit her face.

Another loud laugh bubbled out of her, as Harley simply enjoyed the bright shine of the full moon on her skin and the uneasy creak of the wooden dock below her feet. Talia stepped up until they were shoulder to shoulder, taking a careful sniff of the sea air. Emerald eyes narrowed, partly in suspicion but mainly in confusion, “Have you ever even been to this Texas City place?”

The clown hesitated, her head tilting to the side as she thought back throughout her exploits, alongside Mister J or not, “Well, no. But it’s Texas City. In Texas! How funny is that?”

She nudged Talia with her shoulder, turning her head as Raven floated up on her other side. A wide grin spread her lips at the sight of the hero, “And my next choice is totally gonna be Aerial Acres.”

The demoness let out a sigh at the familiar name. Amethyst eyes narrowed in thought a second later as the answer came to her, “Is there a California City near there?”

“Oh you know it, Birdie!”

Harley’s words were excited and Talia paused despite the tiny smile that inadvertently graced her face. The assassin’s head tilted to the side and she tucked some hair behind her ear, “Do you think you’ll get a chance to do all fifty states?”

“I think we will.” Harley grinned and wrapped an arm around her two beloved partial-demons, rolling back and forward until her heelys lit up, “What’s the point of all this travelling if I’m not meeting up with my two favorite killjoys in every city imaginable?”

The assassin snorted at that. “Besides,” The blonde’s smile turned even more devious than usual, “If we keep near the shore I might even convince you two to get some bikinis. I’m not sure about you, but Ray Ray seems the strappy string type.”

Raven let out a sound that might have been a groan, but was probably just a sigh. “Harley, you are hilarious,” she deadpanned.

“Aw c’mon, Raebae!” Harley’s grin was finally reaching obnoxious levels, “Tell me you don’t get tons of beachtime in Jump.”

The girl shrugged, meeting Talia’s gaze as they leaned against the pier’s guardrails. Bubbly as ever, especially with the adrenaline of sneaking past the guards still flowing through her veins, Harley cheerfully rested her arm on the teen’s head. She couldn’t help herself, the demon was so short it was adorable, “What about you, Tal? When’s the last time you got some surfing in?”

The assassin leaned her head against her shoulders, “I don’t surf.” But her voice trailed off, wistful as she thought back to the last time she was near the ocean like this. Raven leaned forward at the subtle shift in her emotions, curious at what Talia was thinking of.

She didn’t have to wait long. The woman ran a hand through her long hair and, a short pause later, hummed out, “I stayed on the shore a while back… but I was with my Beloved.”

Harley raised a brow in question, lazily resting her chin atop Raven’s head. The Titan didn’t pull away; instead, she lifted her face and murmured an explanation, “She means Batman.”

“Ah,” The blonde nodded in realization then faltered. She blinked and met Talia’s gaze. Before they could consider their choices of finding out how the empath knew of Talia’s past relationship (and of what else she may know) Raven decided to get the inevitable out of the way early and offered the information, “I already know who he is; no need to worry and no need to pester.”

Harley tapped the dip in her cloak, her finger warm against her gem. Raven closed her eyes at the wave of exasperation that radiated off the blonde, “I don't even know but you do?! Ugh.”

She face planted down into the indigo cloak, sighing in good-natured annoyance at the unfairness of it all. Harley didn't see but she felt the dangerous vibes that Talia was giving off and she lifted her head again.

The clown clicked her tongue, guessing, “Robin told you?”

Raven shook her head immediately, noticing how the assassin's chin lifted a centimeter in thought. “He’s Nightwing now, but he didn’t have to. I’m an empath,” The hero shrugged, being careful not to disrupt Harley’s balance. “With the little that I knew, it’s not too hard to figure it out who either of them are, especially when their auras are rather… unique.”

Amethyst eyes shifted to the moonlit waves, pointedly ignoring the tense way Talia sized her up. This odd friendship was preventing her from being murdered and Talia from being sent to a different dimension, so she simply addressed the brunette, “For what it's worth he did complain a lot when you and Batman were together. Called you arrogant.”

Talia's gaze didn't stray from the girl's pale face but she let a tiny bit of tension leave her shoulders. Dick had had many trusted teammates throughout his brief life; the likelihood of all of them knowing wasn't the best but she decided that this particular conversation could wait, at the very least until it was just the two of them.  

Emerald eyes flicked to Harley for a brief instant then went back to the wooden railing under her arms. She derisively waved the comment aside, “Nightwing is merely a child. He still has a lot to learn.”

Harley snorted. She leaned her cheek in her palm, her lashes fluttering shut as another wave of mist landed on her face. The siren drummed a nail against her lower lip, “You’re like two, maybe three years older than him.”

“She’s far older than that.”

Talia gave the Titan a look, running a tongue over her teeth. Then she glanced at Harley and reminded herself that patience was the best bet and haughtily admitted, “I’m just over 100 years old, actually.”

Raven’s brows jumped up at the number, the word escaping before she could think, “Impressive.”

The doctor agreed, bouncing up to sit stop the railing. She savored the sound of her wheels rolling against the air and added, “Right? Ten decades and Bloody Mary doesn’t even need a push-up bra.”

Talia gave her a look, missing how Raven hid half a smile behind her cloak.

Harley continued as if she wasn’t being glared at, “Though I gotta admit, didn't think Batsy was into older women.” The blonde drummed her fingers against her thigh, teasingly musing to herself, “Think Kitty’s got a few years on him?”

Raven shrugged, “Probably, people usually get more solitary in old age.”

Talia crossed her arms as she watched them talk. The empath’s eyes squinted out towards the sea, trying to remember, “Isn't Catwoman a loner too?”

“Well, yeah. But Bats is way more extra about it all. Like we once saw him brooding next to a gargoyle in the rain.” She shook her head, “Like yeah, Robin’s there sometimes but he’s that sorta ‘I gotta do it all myself’ loner. At least Kitty'll come to Pam and me if she needs anything.”

Talia hummed out a defense, “He's a private person, Harley. You aren't the type at all.”

Raven hummed in agreement, thinking of the scant times she'd met the man, at Dick’s side or otherwise. “Batman does put off some antisocial vibes.”

“Some?” Harley snickered, “Yeah, he’s a total hard ass.”

The assassin sighed out, the words escaping before she could think, “Oh, absolutely.”

Immediately, Raven’s nose scrunched up in horror and Harley let out a cackle, falling back. A beam of magic caught her wrists and she scrambled to regain her balance, giggling all the while. She jumped down from the railing and covered the mystic’s ears, her grin splitting her face, “Holy shit, Darlin! We have a child present!”

“Shut up.”

“Not funny.”

The siren slumped against the railing as she continued to laugh, taking far too much fun in how dark Talia’s cheeks were getting and how mortified Raven looked at the way their conversation was going.

“I didn’t think we’d ever get you to--”

Her teasing stopped at the sound of a dolphin breaching, its high pitched squeal filling the air. Almost immediately after there was the loud splat! of a clump of seaweed getting entangled along the rocky sand. The dolphin’s pod splashed around, their bodies just barely silhouetted in the moonlight.

Harley gasped and crouched on her heelys, eagerly slapping Raven’s shoulder at the incline that she needed to get over, “Push me, Moonbeam! I gotta see this!”

A shove of black magic sent her skating by at a troublingly fast pace, but she saw them. Dolphins. The blonde let out a giggle as she started using her momentum to go faster, using all the pier that she had to wave bye to them as the mammals swam past.

Then that speed caught up to her and she tumbled over the edge, jumping to get as much air as she could.

Raven’s magic caught her before she fell into the ocean, of course.

Harley let out a laugh that mingled with the rhythmic crash of waves, beaming at her friends as the mage set her down on the sand, a few feet from the water. Immediately a shine of something shiny caught her eye and the clown grabbed a stick, poking the pile of seaweed.

Up on the dock Raven watched her progress, stoic as Talia leveled a stare that surpassed Batman’s upon her. After a long minute the Titan turned to the woman, amethyst eyes settling on the sword’s hilt that was in clear view.

Of course. If she had constant access to her powers, why shouldn’t Talia have access to her weapons? Harley seemed to be the only one comfortable enough to not bring any aids from her own arsenal whenever they met up, and while they trusted Harley their own one-on-one relationship was… not as amiable.

Raven looked back up into that dangerously focused emerald gaze. “Talia,” She stared at the assassin for a long moment, her voice low. “I know these… excursions end at dawn, but the rest of the Titans won’t mind if I miss most of the day.” Her pale hands brushed aside her cloak as she hid them from view, the magic leaving as easily as it appeared.

Her eyes were practically black in the night as she leveled an almost-glare on the older woman, “We can talk without killing each other and without Harley having to babysit us, correct?”

The teen’s words weren’t a question. Talia smirked, although it didn’t reach her eyes, “I won’t hesitate to kill you.”

Raven’s face didn’t shift and the villainess hissed out, “You could become a villain just as easy as you act a hero. The fact that you were even able to find out--”

“Two years ago.”

Tan lips shut and she took a breath through her nose, continuing on without acknowledging the addition, “--is an unforgivable liability.”

Her fingers tensed against the hilt of her sword, but she didn’t unsheath it. Talia’s shoulders lowered half an inch, the tension still loud as she admitted, “But you don’t seem nearly as weak as Selina, so I’ll see.”

Something precarious slid between them as the sword was moved back in place, then an interruption before either could think too much about it. Their heads snapped to Harley as she let out a whoop, lifting a dinner plate sized clam out of the sand, “Hey look at this!”The creature obviously died years ago, its weathered shell completely empty. The siren glanced between the two, her emotions and body language pointing to how obviously relieved she was that their fight didn’t get physical. When she was certain she had their full attention, Harley was careful not to snap her find apart as she held the shells up to her chest, “Pam’s the redhead, but I can probably pull them off, dontcha think?”

Talia raised a brow and that was enough of an answer.

The siren reached back to fiddle with her bra’s clasp as she called out to them, “Y’all wanna see me try it on?”

“No!”

“Maybe.”

A pause, then a second resounding, “No.”

[kastartss]

I really need help with my mental health condition, please take your time to read my story (if you are willing to only)

Here’s an introduction. Hey, my (not real) name is Kat. I’m 14 (yes, I know, a literal fetus) and I’m from Vietnam.

Two weeks ago, I was diagnosed with anxiety, and honestly, I was not surprised. But then the more I think about it, the more I realize that I have had it for almost my entire life, and I have only been around for 14 years. I felt my social anxiety kick in when I was about in year one in primary school. I remember how bubbly I was of a toddler, always waving and saying hi to adults in my neighborhood. But then I went to school and things changed. I got 2 close friends, let’s call them A and P. I hung out with them, but before I had those two friends, I never recall being in a place without friends. In kindergarten, as far as I could remember, I have many friends. So when I go to school for the first time, I didn’t have close friends. I was still bubbly at the time, talking to kids in my class, but in break time, I have no one to talk with. Even after I got A and P as my friends, sometimes they would gang up on me and I would have total breakdowns and sitting alone, feeling betrayed because no one likes me.

I think that's when I started being less of an exuberant child. I noticed that I have stopped waving to adults, I became more terrified of being around strangers or performing on stage (which was a thing I did all the time in kindergarten). And as time goes on, I develop the fear of trivial things, getting worried every time I go on a trip or holiday (eg. fear that the plane will crash, fear that there would be tsunami at the beach, etc.) or having existential crisis or death related worries. And then when I reach grade four, I got my first crush, I spent all night crying because wow, new emotion unlocked. He’s this sporty boy, sitting next to me in classes, and guess what? He had a crush on my then best friend. I slowly realize, when I reach secondary school, that I am less valuable than many. 

On the second week of sixth grade (secondary school), I had a mental breakdown and I stayed in the bathroom for the entire English lit lesson. The teachers found me, but I couldn’t explain why I ran away. I found it too embarrassing. I ran away because every seats next to a girl is taken and I would’ve had to sit next to this big, scary boy. I didn't know why I felt that way, why I panicked over such a small and stupid thing, but that night I went home, told my mom school’s fine, and found a knife to just end myself.

But of course I didn’t. I was afraid of getting hurt. I was afraid of seeing the life leaving my body. And I remember my mom telling me my life is the most important thing I have.

The reason I’m afraid of getting hurt is pretty damn simple: my mom hit me all the time as a kid. I’m not traumatized by it. But do I cry at night, getting upset and guilty about the things I did to deserve it? Yes, yes I did. But did I think much of it or find ways to stop getting hit? No, no I didn't. I got hit all the time for lying, for not obeying, for being lazy. But my mom really loves me, she does. She yelled at me, she slapped me, she threw books at my face, humiliated me sometimes in public, and hit me with broomsticks and clothes hangers because she said “she wanted the best for me”. She wanted me to change for the better but haha jokes on her, the more she hit me the more stubborn I get. And so update: I’m still getting hit by her for doing shits recently. I have questioned if it’s abusive or not, because I know she got anger issues and she said that herself, to not let her get angry. But in my country, getting hit by your moms is like a casual thing. It’s like depression jokes, we joke about our fucked up mental health and in my place we joke about getting hit my our moms. It's too common that I don't know if it’s abusive or not anymore, that’s one thing I need help on.

Back to the main story. So sixth grade is the time I start feeling conscious about my body. I’m gonna bluntly say this: my body is disproportionally fat. It was as a kid, and it still is now. My legs and arms are normal, not too skinny, but normal, but my body, the torso and chest area, oh boy, that's where all the fat is. If my body fat is spread out evenly, I wouldn’t have complained, it would be beautiful. But despite how much I tried, the fat would only be in that area, and I look ugly in everything. I got self conscious when we did a movie project, I got self conscious when I have to wear stage costumes, and I start acknowledging that I’m not the popular girl. I don't get why girls my age use lipstick and make up, and how they have money to buy expensive clothes. I was naïve, and I wanted to be like them: popular and valued by people. I was the wallflower, no one knows me except my few friends and I don't expect them to. I started developing a mindset that no one remembers me, and I’m insignificant. 

Grade seven, I changed school. And it’s when I found out about fandoms. I liked Harry Potter, and I wrote some fanfictions that one of my friends encourage me to post it on Wattpad, so I did. That’s when I made internet friends, and I got exploited to issues like lgbtqa+, pop culture, and mental health. One of my internet friends, let’s call her W, is queer and got depression. That’s when I started digging deep in these issues, learning about mental health and how to help people with them. And that’s when I start realizing I may have a mental health problem. W attempted suicide last year, in 2017. Fortunately, she survived. I had spent many nights texting her out of it, cheering her up, and the more I’m around her, the more I discover about myself.

This year, I’ve learnt things about myself that I would've had no idea about two years ago. I identify as bisexual, and thinking about a year ago, I still thought being gay is unfortunate. In my country, same sex marriage is legal, but is not very welcomed by the people and is considered a touchy subject. Many consider it an illness and pity people whom identify as such. Generally, no one really cares until it’s their children. My mom didn't like it. She thinks it’s a phase (classic.) and being bi would bring disadvantages to my life (she’s very wrong I daresay it’s literally 20gayteen and two women from the Bachelor Vietnam just ditched the guy for each other???) and that makes me doubt if my mom is ever right (she’s very convincing in most situations, unfortunately). 

I also learnt about my anxiety, like I noted. Two weeks ago, I seek help from the school counselor after being tempted to kill myself out of pure self hate. I have had extreme self hate for the last month but I thought it’s normal. One event that lead to me thinking this way is that one fight I had with my parents that my mom threatened to jump off the window to die and to leave the house forever, she said how terrible I am and I felt like being slapped across the face being it just hit me then: I am terrible. When I was younger I thought people don't like me because im ugly and I really wanted them to like me for my personality. But then the fight happen and I found out: im ugly both inside and outside. That’s when I started to lose hope, my grades (which was going bad before) got worse and when I got a bad result for maths finals, I got devastated and got a panic attack. I climbed to the tallest floor in my school building and lie there, falling asleep and let my mind shut down. My plan was to jump off the building and end my life but the door to outside was locked so I just curled up there and cry. I got found two hours later, and the teachers told me absolute bullshit because my country is absolutely obsolete about mental health. 

It just got worse and worse since March. My mom says I should stop being lazy, stop procrastinating, be more productive and I hate being at home, because my mom use my bedroom as her workplace and I have no privacy. I have to face my mom all day in summer, and that drove me crazy. Even when I had the chance to go to England for a month for summer camp, I still feel insignificant and lonely when I stare at the crowds being happy. My anxiety is super clear, but oh boy how funny I was. 

I thought I was faking it. I thought all of this is me wanting people to pity me, so I have to fake my anxiety and depression. Most of the times I look up for symptoms of depression and anxiety, I hope those symptoms match. Because I wanna be right, I don't wanna be an attention seeker, I want something to blame for my behaviors. 

All the tests I took for depression tell me I have severe depression. But some days I don't feel down or anything. I just felt fine, and deep down I feel guilty for not caring, because does this mean i’m faking my mental illness oh my god. I have a girlfriend. We broke up once, and now we are talking again. She’s in America and we only can text each other, but I don't feel like im ever good enough for her. All I feel is self hate and unworthiness. 

This is the thing I want you guys to help me about: Do I really have these mental illnesses? Am I making it up? Am I just paranoid and crave attention?

The thing that makes me doubting myself is the fact that around me, many kids are raised like me. Being hit my their moms, have the same education, but they’re not depressed. they don't have social anxiety. They’re doing alright. So I’m afraid this is because I got myself into this myself by going on the internet and reading about gay shits and befriend depressing people and got this myself. I’m afraid I’m making this up to be relevant. 

Please help me with this, or just reblog to help me find an answer. I’m so sorry I’m wasting your time. But please, I need to find myself. I don't want to feel suicidal again.

[shotfromguns]

Good, long thread by @TheMittani on Twitter on “neoconfederacy” in the South:

if you ever wonder why i got politically 'radicalized' it's because i grew up in alabama as an atheist child of two biochemistry professors; at 17 i graduated and moved away forever. reminder: Alabama came within 1.7% of sending a known pedo to the senate~

any '13th dimensional chess' tweets about how the AL leg composed this abortion ban to provoke a court fight has never met an actual neoconfederate this is what they want 100%, it's a white supremacist aristo fertility cult and all the moves make sense when understood that way

source: i have been to an unironic country club debutante ball in dear old mountain brook and folks have no idea how much intergenerational wealth transfer has carried over from the days of slavery in that society's upper class

for context, when i was in high school there were three country clubs, maybe 20k citizens, and zero black students; every street is named after a civil war battle, and 'houses' there would be called mansions anywhere else

best public schools in the state though~

folks have no clue how rich and well-educated the ruling class in alabama is, going to mountain brook means if you don't get into one of the better ivys you're probably a bitter slacker like me legislation like this isn't from stupid hicks, it's the goal

southern aristos can be incredibly intelligent and well-traveled and are all the more dangerous politically because they are happy to play dumb in public with the aw-shucks jesus loving hick routine in order to quietly run an antebellum society and pit poor whites against blacks

it's almost comically effective, I do this stuff all the time in Eve - say laughably wrong things, act like a fool, and then it's much easier to outmaneuver people. The most dangerous enemy is one who is comfortable with being publicly underestimated.

I mean to say, 'ha ha eat my ass look at me I'm so great at spaceship games', please interpret my above tweet as evidence of hubris and ignorance rather than giving up an actual tactic I've employed so often it's been nicknamed the 'tee hee, flounce flounce' by my chief of staff

'I'm the fucking Mittani, I know everything in this game,' another good one wearing red shirts? stupid gimmick, keep doing it because it's a stupid gimmick, it's far better for our competitors/enemies to see me as a joke luv2club? tee hee, flounce flounce, same shit

anyhoo yeah it's the same dance, play god-fearing jesus lover to keep the poor whites on your side, maintain that patriarchy with the complicity of ruling class women who enjoy the economic benefits of neoconfederacy, and live over the mountain so no one spots all the lexuses

it's interesting to see the term neoconfederate finally get some use but it implies that there isn't already an actual working confederate states of america right in front of everyone's eyes that's been there since reconstruction, none of that shit is an accident

if you put 'hail hydra' on statues in every town in the region you don't have to bother saying 'hail hydra' or announce in print that you're down with hydra, everyone who lives there gets it

the issue is not being part of a traitorous conspiracy against the united states government (i mean hydra, not the neoconfederacy, ha ha!) the problem comes when you state it where those not in on it can hear you. Viz: ”Alabama newspaper editor calls for Klan return to ‘clean out D.C.’”

i kind of like the hydra analogy for the neoconfederacy, because all this shit - 'states rights', 'pro-life', 'voter fraud', these disparate causes are actually all the same cause: the ~lost~ cause

southern politics makes a lot more sense when viewed through the lens of pro/anti-confederacy politics; confederate society is based upon a ruling gentry descended from the cavaliers see generally https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Albion%27s_Seed actual /aristos/ not merely rich people

so basically you have an entrenched aristocracy that traces their lineage back 10+ generations running a plantation society and fighting like fucking hell to maintain that privilege, privilege most people in the usa cannot even begin to imagine

generic usa high ~net worth individuals~ have nothing on the cunning and unity maintained by ancient proud cavalier aristocratic families in the south with shitloads of money who will do anything to protect the universe they and their forefathers have created (via slavery)

the whole 'the south will rise again' thing is a huge joke because the structure of the society immediately returned to functional slavery as soon as it could get away with it, the south already 'rose' after reconstruction, it's right in fucking the open

if they get away with the abortion thing, they'll gun for brown v board next; these people remember life before MLK and they have not forgotten or forgiven the civil rights movement those behind this aren't hicks, they very smart confederates acting like hicks to fool you.

many old privileged families come with a legacy and a purpose imposed on you from birth it's not a stretch of the imagination that the quest of a lot of these old aristo families is to restore the society to antebellum life and get their privileges (slavery) back

the civil war was only a few generations ago, these families have not forgotten and they have not let their children forget the monuments, the street named for war battles, that's why it matters still to them

southern aristos are pro-life because the whole point of the society is the poor whites fight the poor blacks, and restricting abortion = more labor and poverty to exploit by the gentry the goal of their flavor of white supremacy is about getting rich off slaves, not death camps

not that they have a problem with a death camp or three, it's difficult to communicate how utterly disposable the lives of people outside of their class are, this is a society whose rulers believe that god has anointed them to rule over their lessers

its not rocket science, you take a slaveholding landed gentry and take away their slaves and land (good!) that gentry is going to spend its time fanatically scheming to get its land and slaves back (bad, what we see in southern politics)

anyhoo what i'm saying is that this isn't about random kooks trying to put women 'in their place' (there's a bunch of them too, useful idiots) but part of a broad campaign across generations by a dispossessed cavalier nobility to get all their lost privileges (slavery) back

conveniently the rest of america doesn't have much of an entrenched aristo/gentry culture anymore so the maneuvers of the 'neo' confederates just look like random right wing lashing out rather than a deliberate series of moves to benefit the southern aristocracy

the reality of the modern confederacy reminds me a lot of 'The City and the City' in that it's clearly visible to those raised within it, yet its contour is completely alien to outsiders who don't know how to 'see' it the 'right' way.

shit like Roy Moore being a pedo but coming within 1.7% of winning a senate seat makes a buttload more sense than 'alabama voters will send anything not a democrat', Moore is a proud and loud confederate and Doug Jones is anti-confederate it's the confederacy - always.

Pro-life? Confederacy. State's Rights? Confederacy. Gun rights? Confederacy. Religious Freedom/Gay Cake Stuff? Confederacy. Anti-union? Confederacy. If you're a Cavalier or one of their foremen, it all fits~ 

Robert Caro basically spelled out in intricate detail how the confederacy works in his LBJ bios but particularly Master of the Senate, read these if you want a primer on actual power and its uses: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Years_of_Lyndon_Johnson

when LBJ shifted to supporting voting rights, the confederacy simply switched its support from the democrats to the republicans. it's a real thing and its moves make perfect sense once you grok the core motivations of the southern gentry and their henchmen~

you see this repeatedly through history where one side stops fighting after a victory and the other side loses but keeps trying to find ways to win, the Union torched the south and moved on, but the confederacy has /never stopped fighting/ using whatever means they have available

tl;dr "it's the confederacy, stupid" also explains those crazy 'obama is the antichrist' memes; if you're a confederate, a black president existing is against everything your flavor of pro-slavery jesus stands for

None of this thread really applies to Texas. I was born in Houston, moved to AL at 10; completely different culture in Texas. Going to rodeos, oil/cattle, science, ranching. When I say the 'South' I'm talking about the plantation society of the Cavaliers.

As a quick example of using the Lost Cause to understand Cavalier political behavior, Lindsey Graham's 'hypocrisy' makes perfect sense. He doesn't give a shit about spewing nonsense or lying to Yankees, all he cares about is Dixie. He's not dumb at all; the Union is his enemy.

Expanded May 17, 2019:

oh yeah and Mitch McConnell was born and raised in Alabama and then Georgia from 8yrs on, so heyoooo

look up how long jeff sessions family has been naming their kids after jefferson davis on his bio dixie is real; it's the confederacy, the political moves the cavaliers and their overseers are making on behalf of the lost cause as plain as day if you know what to look for

just gonna spend Friday night reading Albion’s seed to learn more fun ~cavalierfacts~ like how their royalist gentry is literally all one big interrelated family and coordinates retribution and uses debt to control the poor

“It is difficult to think of any ruling elite that has been more closely interrelated since the Ptolemies” holy lawl (it is a history insult as he’s basically calling the cavaliers a nest of outright incest, the Ptolemaic dynasty was Targaryen-style sibling marriage)

Hey guess what turns out the control of women is deeply ingrained in cavalier society because uh... kidnapping / human trafficking / sexual slavery and a massively skewed male to female ratio lovely people, these confederates

“These patterns did not develop by chance. Virginia’s great migration was the product of policy and social planning. Its royalist elite succeeded in shaping the social history of an American region partly by regulating the process of migration” (p 232) fucking hell it’s all here

May 22, 2019:

by req: another ‘understanding the confederacy’ thing, all the protest tweets saying “the cruelty is the point” are wrong, the point is opportunities for race-based policing (a la weed), disenfranchisement, reinforcing patriarchy, and more labor/babies to exploit + compliance

sure there’s a bunch of cruelty in there too but the whole thing is a means to the ends of rolling back the civil rights movement and restoring the structure of Dixie as the gentry/cavaliers prefer; the confederates may be slavers at heart but they’re not cartoon villains

(they're way worse)

In case I get hit by a bus, I currently think the concept of hegemonic liberty is the most misunderstood aspect of the cavalier mindset, so here’s three key pages from Albion’s Seed~

And the cavalier conception of condescension and deference as two sides of God’s hierarchy and order is a fracture point, that’s why incivility towards one’s ‘betters’ is so provocative - milkshakes would probably work over here, too

Also by hiding and lying about the existence of Dixie, they fragment their opposition into issue-based groups - pro-choice, gun control, voters rights, anti-racism - instead of each opposition group recognizing that they are fighting the same confederate foe

Not like they really hid that much, they had confederate flags flying over their capitols ever since the Civil War until recently, but the Union won the war and moved on, so folks think they’re fighting random bigots and not the CSA

May 23, 2019:

the lack of a concerted effort by the democratic party to win and develop victories in the south has allowed the bulwark of the RNC power to be unchallenged, if you erode the Dixie Wall in the Senate the republicans pretty much lose all their functional power

as the DNC is incompetent one doesn't need to rely upon them, state by state in Dixie voting rights and organization must be pushed to undermine the structure of confederate power, that's the fracture point, that and forcing their true nature as confederates into the open

I'll develop all this crap into more useful tactics on the upcoming blog thing but this is all just-in-case 'yo guys, if I get hit by a bus, take Albion's Seed, drive through Mountain Brook for proof of everything I'm saying (crestline doesn't count lawl) go fight hydra'

as someone will inevitably discover not EVERY street in Mountain Brook is named for civil war battles (there's a lot), the really old money lives on streets named for old british estates/towns + they're episcopalians (anglican 2.0) not baptists, of course

[letterboxd]

Icon.

Our world was calm, well ordered, exemplary. Then we met the stars and director of the new sequel Mary Poppins Returns to discuss the legacy of the original, how to follow in Julie Andrews’ footsteps and rapping in a Disney movie.

Even in an era when seemingly every single film exploits something we cherish from childhood, it still feels brazenly sacrilegious to even attempt to sequel-ize Mary Poppins (1964), the iconic and timeless Disney movie.

One of the most universally beloved children’s films of all time, Mary Poppins is deeply imprinted on multiple generations of movie-goers, many of whom spent much of their childhood wishing (or indeed, believing) that Mary Poppins was their nanny.

To tread on such hallowed movie ground is risky indeed, but everyone involved in Mary Poppins Returns seems to realize that, and a great deal of care and attention has been applied to the new film to ensure it honors the original while captivating contemporary audiences.

The film gained a huge amount of instant goodwill from the casting of its title character. Few would argue that there’s anybody better suited to follow in Julie Andrews’ footsteps than Emily Blunt, who is an utter delight in the role. She doesn’t simply “do” Andrews, instead bringing her own flavor to the character, who returns to London to assist in the grown-up lives of her charges from the first film: Michael and Jane Banks, now played by Ben “voice of Paddington” Whishaw and Emily Mortimer, both also fantastic.

The film was directed by Rob Marshall, who in addition to helming 2003 Best Picture Oscar winner Chicago, also previously worked with Blunt on the 2014 adaptation of Stephen Sondheim’s Into The Woods.

Emily Blunt as Mary Poppins.

Joining Blunt in Mary Poppins Returns is musical man of the moment Lin-Manuel Miranda, making his first major big-screen appearance since the phenomenal success of his Broadway smash Hamilton. Miranda is a great student and practitioner of musicals. He wrote many of the beloved songs from the Moana soundtrack, and you can check out his five favorite movie musicals here.

In Mary Poppins Returns, Miranda plays a cockney lamplighter named Jack, revealed to be an apprentice of Bert, Dick Van Dyke’s character from the first film. Well, one of them. In one of many winsome musical numbers, Miranda performs in the the rap-meets-Broadway style he popularized with Hamilton. Rapping. In a Disney movie. Try not to faint.

All the songs are pretty fantastic. They were written by Marc Shaiman and Scott Wittman, whose most famous collaboration was the hit Broadway musical Hairspray. Richard B. Sherman, the surviving half of iconic songwriting team the Sherman Brothers (who wrote the songs for Mary Poppins, among other iconic films), is a musical consultant on the film.

The result? Mary Poppins Returns won’t be destined for The Place Where Lost Things Go.

A man has dreams, and Letterboxd’s Dominic Corry had one of his come true when he got in a room in Beverly Hills with Blunt, Miranda and Marshall (and some other press) to discuss the film.

On the pressure of following up such a beloved movie: Rob Marshall: I thought to myself when this came my way, “if anybody is gonna do it, I would like to do it”. It was incredibly daunting at first of course, but I wanted to be able to, in an odd way, protect the first film and treat this film with great care and love. Musicals are very difficult to do, an original musical, there are so many layers to it, but with this one, creating an original musical from scratch was actually for me a dream, and I’ve never done it before and to be able to create it with this beautiful company was exactly what I was hoping for. The guiding message of this film about finding light in the darkness is honestly what drew me to it and kept guiding me throughout the whole process including until this very moment, when people are actually now seeing the film. And I’m just speaking for myself, but I feel people need this film now. I knew that I wanted to live in that world and be part of sending that message out into the world now of looking for hope and light in a dark time.

On how Emily Blunt came to the role: Emily Blunt: I got a voicemail from Rob, who is my dear friend and we have known each other a long time, and the voice mail certainly had a sort of charged energy to it. I was like, “Oh my God, what is it? What is this project?” And when he called me, he said, “We’ve been digging through the Disney archives and by far their most prized possession.” And I was like “What, what is that?” And when he said Mary Poppins, I thought the air changed in the room.

It was so extraordinary, such an extraordinary, rather unparalleled moment for me because I was filled with an instantaneous “yes”, but also with some trepidation, all happening simultaneously in that moment because she is so iconic. She had such a big imprint on my life and on everyone’s lives, you know? People hold this character so close to their hearts. And so how do I create my version of her? What will my version of her be? No one wants to see me do a sort of cheap impersonation of Julie Andrews because no one is Julie Andrews. And so she should be preserved and treasured in her own way for what she did. I knew this was going to be something that I wanted to take a big swing with and I knew I could do it with this man who is the most emboldening, meticulous, brilliant director in the world and I was in safe hands with him. However much I knew I had my work cut out for me.

Rob Marshall and Emily Blunt on set.

On how Blunt sought to differentiate her Mary Poppins from Julie Andrews’ take on the character in the 1964 film: EB: What I decided to do, even though I’d seen it as a child, was not watch the original so close to shooting our version, I think probably because she is so beautiful and so extraordinary, I would have maybe tried to accommodate in some way, and let that sort of bleed into what I wanted to do. So I just decided to go on my gut instinct from the book because she is rather different in all of the books [by P.L. Travers].

If I’m going to carve out new space for myself, it was gonna have to be without watching the details of what Julie did so close to shooting. I have this searing memory of Mary Poppins, but not of all of the tiny details of how she played the character. And so as soon as we wrapped I watched the original. I was just floored by it, and probably relieved that I hadn’t watched it because I was all, “My god, she’s amazing!”.

On how Lin-Manuel Miranda came to be involved in the project: Lin-Manuel Miranda: I remember going to the midnight premiere screening of Chicago at the Ziegfeld Theater [in New York], and seeing the greatest modern movie musical I’d ever seen in my life. So when I got a call from Rob Marshall, and [choreographer] John DeLuca saying, “We’d like to talk to you about something,” that became an immediate priority.

They came to buy me a drink between shows. I was still in Hamilton at the time and I had a two-show day. So I finished the matinee, rolled across the street to the Paramount Hotel and I met them for a drink and they said, “Sequel to Mary Poppins,” and I said, “Who’s playing Mary Poppins?” And they said, “Emily Blunt,” and I said “Oh, that’s good”.

I can’t give them enough credit for seeing this role in me because there is no childlike wonder in Alexander Hamilton. He has a very traumatic early life. He goes on that stage and he wants to devour the world and he wants to move so fast and he wants to do everything, whereas Jack in this movie, as they pitched him to me, has this childlike sense of wonder. He’s in touch with that imagination you all see in your kids when they can sort of play in their own imagination for hours. Jack never lost that and that was I feel so humbled that [Rob] saw that in me. From that moment, from that drink, I was in. It came along at the perfect time for my family too, you know. We had finished a year of performing Hamilton and then I chopped my hair off and left the country and jumped into Mary Poppins’ universe. It was like, beautiful. On rapping in a Disney movie: LM: I would urge you to re-watch the first film. Because everyone who is like, “Wow, there’s rapping in Mary Poppins Returns,” forgets that Bert has a 30-second rap about all the women he dated before Mary Poppins. You’ve forgotten it, but Jolly Holiday is one big flirt between Mary and Bert.

Lin-Manuel Miranda (top center) as Jack.

On balancing reverence with innovation: RM: I really felt that everyone who was a part of this needed to have the first film in their blood in some way because that’s what we were following. I use myself as a barometer because I thought well, what would I want to see? If I came to a sequel to Mary Poppins I would want to see an animation sequence with live action and I would want it to be hand drawn in a 2D world. I would want Cherry Tree Lane to have a curve to it because that’s the Cherry Tree Lane we all know. It was as simple as that, although we were finding our new way. There were sort of goal posts or sign posts throughout that we needed to hold on to because it’s in the DNA of the material.

I knew there needed to be a big huge production number with athletic dancers with Mary and Jack, Jack leading the entire piece. That needed to be in there in some way. I would feel that if it wasn’t there we’ve gone off track. It was this insane balancing act of honoring the first film, but at the same time forging our own way. Marc and Scott were incredibly careful about making sure that we didn’t abuse using [musical] themes from the first film. It’s so easy to use. We used it in very strategic places throughout the film. Most of it actually very much at the end where we feel we’d earned it by then. And that’s what Marc was very careful about doing. I did feel that we were coming from the right place and that was the key.

‘Mary Poppins Returns’ is in cinemas from December 19.

[radioleary-blog]

Hef Tragedy Jam

Hugh Hefner died yesterday. When the news was announced, over fifty women said they were dismayed. No, wait...over fifty women said they were “Miss May”. Fifty more were Miss June, and, well, you get the picture. If you were lucky you got their pictures.

Few of you reading this are old enough to remember that Playboy magazine was about the only place you could see a naked woman, and I say that because there are probably few of you reading this, period. But hey, my column gets more readers than the average suicide note, statistically speaking. Although I’m trying to increase my readership, and the average suicide note is more of a stand-alone project. I bet if George Lucas ever wrote a suicide note, he’d follow it up with three prequel notes. Each successively worse than the last. People would be like, “Why did he have to ruin that original suicide note, which I loved, with those awful prequel-suicide notes? I don’t care why he got depressed, but clearly only a manic depressive could make such a desperate cry for help as introducing Jar-Jar Binks. If I ruined a billion dollar franchise by coming up with an offensive racist caricature like Jar-Jar Binks, I’d probably consider putting a lightsaber in my mouth too.”

I grew up with Playboy magazine, and my early knowledge of female physiology was less from a volume of Grey’s anatomy or sketches by DaVinci, and more from volumes of Playboy magazine. It was like a reference guide, one that you would hold up with one hand. In fact, the first time I had a girlfriend who got naked, I wondered where her staples were. Of course, today, I’m the one who should have his stomach stapled, but that’s another story. Ah, sweet irony!

I’m sure Hugh Hefner went to Heaven, but whatever gleaming Mansion in the sky awaits us, no matter how glorious, for Hugh Hefner it’s going to be a pretty big step down from the Playboy Mansion. It may actually be Seventh Heaven, but Hef has been living on Cloud Nine since 1956. But, hey, he’s already wearing a robe. You know when you see depictions of Heaven, everybody is always wearing white robes? That’s because they were wearing those white robes in the hospital when they died. And they make you wear those awful robes that don’t close in the back because that’s where your wings will come out when you get to Heaven. It’s all part of God’s plan. I bet you’ll still have that plastic wristband on too, St. Peter just scans it at the gate to let you in. <beep> “Cardiac arrest. You’re good. Check in at the registration desk. Have a valid photo ID ready.”

Hugh Hefner was such a consummate pussyhound, I wouldn’t be surprised if he made a deathbed conversion to radical Islam, just to get the 72 virgins in Heaven. God would be like - I mean “Allah” would be like, “Pretty tricky Hef, pretty tricky. But...technically it counts. You old horndog!” Of course, you know what Hugh Hefner calls 72 virgins? A slow Tuesday.

The Playboy Mansion was famous for its out-of-control parties, and the mansion had a natural cave-like grotto on the grounds where everyone would go to snort coke and have sex. I guess Hef was a lot like Bruce Wayne, a millionaire with a mansion and a cave. And didn’t they call Bruce Wayne a millionaire playboy? Hef was a Playboy millionaire. But the difference is, Hef would rather do coke and fuck super-models whereas Batman would rather do-good and fight super-villains. Plus, Batman slides down the Bat-pole, and crazy hot chicks slide down the Hef-pole. In other words, Hef was sane, and Batman was, well, not so much. Batman is basically a billionaire who just wants to hurt people and not get sued for it and pretend he’s a hero. Kind of like Trump.

The grotto cave on the grounds of the Playboy Mansion had a huge, heated Jacuzzi pool, where movie stars, rock and roll gods, and celebrity athletes were eagerly humped by groupies, star-fuckers, and aspiring playmates. Unprotected 1970’s sex was messier than Michael J. Fox eating an ice cream cone, so the pool was probably 60% water, 2% spilled cocaine, and 38% James Caan’s jizz. The lifeguard got syphilis just from giving mouth to mouth resuscitation. At least that was her story. But that was about the same time Grand Funk Railroad was in town, so who can say? I do think ‘grotto’ must be the Italian word for ‘gross’.

I hear some of the more politically correct crowd, or as they’re more commonly known, nitwits, complaining that Playboy exploited women. And I guess it was exploitation, in the same sense that Vogue magazine is exploiting the mostly-naked teenage anorexic girls slash super-models in their magazine. And I say slash because that’s what these girls often try to do to their wrists. Unlike Vogue magazine models, at least the Playboy women didn’t have eating disorders. They’re a lot less likely to stick their fingers down their throats. I’m not saying they’re any less likely to have something down their throats, but not their fingers.

Exploiting women. As if Hugh Hefner was hanging around the Newark bus station looking for a girl down on her luck and fresh off the turnip truck from Topeka. That sounds more like the plot of a 1930’s movie than the way his business empire was run. I think what Hef did was have his photography editors, both men and women, spend endless hours going through duffel bags of mail sent in by thousands of women from all around the country who wanted to pose for Playboy. The staff would narrow it down to probably a few dozen, and then get Hef’s opinion on who was not only the most beautiful, but who had the look that would be right to feature in the magazine. That’s exactly what the editors and publishers do at Elle, and Vogue, and every other magazine that holds up a particular brand of beauty as an ideal.

And I don’t know any women who haven’t worn out the related links on their favorite porn sites jilling off to whatever their particular porn flavor might be, so who exactly are these people that still have a problem with Playboy? Because without Hefner’s decades of battles against governmental and religious censorship, there would be no porn sites. Hef made it possible to look at porn sites without pretending you go there for the articles. Without Playboy, people would still be saying, “Did you read that insightful article on the humanitarian crisis in Darfur? And that recently-found short story by J.D, Salinger?” “Why, yes. I particularly liked the profile of Jazz trumpeters from the post-bop era. And I did notice some delightful porn as well, between the articles, of course.”

The reason Hef could get away with putting in naked chicks is his magazine is because Playboy was a serious, respected literary magazine. The greatest writers of the day were in Playboy:

Ray Bradbury wrote original content for Playboy, and serialized Fahrenheit 451, which was coincidentally the exact temperature of how hot the playmates were.

The Beat writer Jack Kerouac wrote for Playboy, and that cat was cool as hell. Beat, Jack, that is exactly what Playboy readers do.

Ian Fleming published short stories in Playboy, and the James Bond novel “On Her Majesty’s Secret Service” was published first in Playboy. We all know James Bond got enormous amounts of pussy. But compared to what Hef was getting, James Bond looks like a bible salesman with erectile disfunction. Or a guy who works in a comic book store. Think about that for a minute; the world’s sexiest pussyhound spy still gets less women than the guy who published the magazine his story is in. And Bond is fictional!

Roald Dahl wrote for them, too. The author of “Willie Wonka” writing for people who wonka their willies, sounds apropo.

Kurt Vonnegut wrote for them all the time, and that dude was cooler than Ice Nine. There’s a reference for ya!

Joseph Heller published a lost chapter of “Catch-22” in Playboy. I think the title Catch-22 might be the number of social diseases you’d get if you had sex in the grotto.

Margaret Atwood, author of “The Handmaid’s Tale” started writing for Playboy in 1991. I would imagine one of her stories was called “The Handmaid’s Tail”.

Hunter S. Thompson. Gabriel García Márquez, John Updike, Joyce Carol Oates, Truman Capote, they all wrote for Playboy. This magazine was the real deal, kids, it was smarter and cooler than absolutely anything you know today. You see, all of these stories were longer than 140 characters. Or even 280.

I actually learned quite a bit about culture from Playboy, between rounds, if you know what I mean. By middle school I could discuss the literary feud between Gore Vidal and Norman Mailer in English class and sound like a friggin’ genius, I just couldn’t tell the teacher where I learned it. “Where did I learn that? Oh, you know. Around. Literary journals, and the like. At that building that has all the books. Yes, exactly, the library! That’s the one! I frequent that establishment, I‘ll have you know.” What was I gonna say? My father’s sock drawer?

The Playboy Interview was legendary, they were deep, involved discussions, frank and uncensored. Here are some of the people they interviewed: Salvador Dali, Patty Hearst, Groucho Marx, Ansel Adams, Stanley Kubrick, The Beatles, Albert Schweitzer, Buckminster Fuller, Orson Welles, Peter Sellers, Abbie Hoffman, Tennessee Williams, Erica Jong, Allen Ginsberg, and Bertrand Russell. Then there are the so famous they’re known by just one name:  Fellini, Castro, Brando, Nehru, Sartre, Bowie, Nabokov, Hoffa, Carson, Antonioni, Mastroianni, Gleason, and Sinatra. And Playboy was woke, they interviewed Malcolm X, Martin Luther King, Jr., Alex Haley, Miles Davis, Muhammad Ali,  Eldridge Cleaver, Dick Gregory, and Huey Newton. Holy shit, right?  Who do you see interviewed today? Kardashians? Ryan Gosling? Taylor Swift, but interrupted by Kanye West? This time we live in today has less culture than a petri dish.

Hef lived so long that most people today have no real idea how influential he was, what an important cultural icon he was, and that he somehow talked Marilyn Monroe into posing naked on the cover of the very first issue of his magazine way the hell back in 1956. That’s a dude with the Kavorka, big-time. And nobody was naked back in 1956. Not in this country. In 1956, people showered wearing a suit and tie, and apart from time shampooing, a smart fedora. They say people were more cultured back then because they went to art museums, bullshit, I think they only went to art museums to see the nudes in the oil paintings. You would too, and you know it, don’t even try to deny it. You’d say you were admiring the Titian, but you were really just admiring the Tit.

Nearly every issue, Playboy featured a very prominent celebrity with a well-established career and respected in her field who actually wanted people to see how beautiful she was without any clothes. Starting with Marilyn Monroe. And she was smoking hot, too, an icon in her absolute prime. Future historians will be more grateful for that photo shoot than they are for the discovery of the Nag Hammadi texts. Where do you go from there, Playboy? Well, how about Farrah Fawcett, the biggest sex-symbol of the entire 1970’s! The list of gorgeous, talented, famous, successful women that wanted to pose for Playboy might be hard for you to imagine, as you live in an age where women pose in magazines like Maxim with their clothes on! And men today pay to see that? Wtf? Man, I can see women with their clothes on just about anywhere I go. I can see that in line at the deli counter, I don’t need to pay for it.

Here are just a few, a very few, of the already-famous women who chose to pose with no clothes:

Daryl Hannah. Olivia Munn. Kim Basinger. Charlize Theron. Drew Barrymore. Denise Richards (she had kids with Charlie Sheen, so posing for Playboy was comparatively a relatively sound decision). Shannen Doherty. Belinda Carlisle. Jayne Mansfield. Mariel Hemingway. Margaux Hemingway. Nastassja Kinski. Sharon Stone. Rosanna Arquette. Vanna White. Elle MacPherson. Brigitte Bardot. Uma Thurman. Kate Moss. The list is almost endless. I almost said bottomless, but being Playboy, “bottomless”  goes without saying.

Sure, the last decade and a half weren’t great for Hef, but who stays cool past the age of 75? Only Bob Dylan and Picasso. Hef couldn’t let it all go, and at the end it was pretty sad. It was like Sunset Boulevard with viagra. But I’ll miss the Hef of fifty years ago, that man was at the forefront of political movements, cultural progress, gay rights, equal rights, reproductive rights, and the right to take your goddamn clothes off if you feel like it.

This may be the first funeral where you should bring condoms. In lieu of flowers, please give blowjobs. So long, Hef. Thanks for the mammaries.

[commonsensewizard]

Term Limits Necessary, But Not Just on Congress

When Mitch McConnell was asked about the possibility of the legislature imposing term limits on Congressmen and Senators, he had a pithy little reply. punctuated with a smirky smile. He said, “We already have term limits. They’re called elections.”

Really? This doesn’t seem to work. When I see senators and congressmen/women who are older than dirt, and have held their seats since the first Continental Congress, it lessens my confidence in the average American voter; which is already pretty low. As Churchill put it, the greatest argument against democracy is made when speaking to the average voter for five minutes.(Paraphrased by me) When polls are taken about congress, they get the lowest approval ratings, even when compared to the IRS. I made that up, but it’s probably right. However, and this is the truth, when asked about their own congressional representative and senator, OH WELL, there’s nothing wrong with them. It’s all those other guys! No, it’s the lot of them. The whole lot. Especially those old mossbacks and moldyheads who have a permanent butt print on their house and senate seats. The professional, long term, career politician has to be eradicated from the halls of our government, in some way or some form. With our current system, once they get in, it is near impossible to root them out. If term limits are good enough for the leader of this country, then it should be good enough for these cretins who continue to burden us with taxes, rules and regulations that chip away at our liberties and freedoms, turning us into nothing more than cattle to be exploited.

But they aren’t the only ones who need to be reined in. It’s these permanently ensconced, high level bureaucrats who also need to have a limit on their tenure within our government. These are the ones who really run the government, and how well do you think they have been doing? They’re worse than our elected officials. After a while, they begin to think they are our overseers on the plantation, able to whip us into shape whenever they feel like it. Does Lois Lerner come to mind? It does to me. Does McCabe and Strzok come to mind? It does to me. All these deputy directors, sub-directors, high level managers, and spooks and upscale paper pushers have no business running our government for fifteen, twenty or thirty years! It gives them all brain damage. The type of brain malfunction that makes them think they are smarter than the rest of us, know what’s best for us, and even go so far as to push their own agenda instead of the agenda WE vote for! They need to be reined in as well.

After FDR, presidents have been a blip on the screen. At the worst, we only have to put with them for eight years. I wish JFK could have finished his term and won fifty more. I wish Reagan could have run again. But, there are limits to their tenure and I accept that. What I wish I didn’t have to accept is to see Diane Feinstein’s and Nancy Pelosi’s ragged faces continue to droop year after year after year after year into perpetuity. Same goes for McConnell, Grassley, Hatch and the rest of the dinosaurs that leach off of us for what seems like eternities on end. No, it takes an act of God to get rid of the likes of Ted Kennedy and John McCain because the voters in their states or districts are too stupid to ever vote them out. God finally has to do it.

And what about the Supreme Court and Federal Judges? Arguments for a lifetime appointment are that it keeps them from being politically influenced and therefore protect their impartiality and independence. Here, the founding fathers were short sighted. What happens is that presidents, as we are seeing now, pick the youngest credible judge so their view of the constitution will have the longer influence. What happens is that when one of them turns out to be incompetent in that position, they stay on the court too long. As with Ginsburg, there is no way to remove a judge who is failing because of old age. Plus, after a few decades, these judges may get out of sync with other parts of the government (I unashamedly plagiarized that one...just so you know). At the very least, Supreme Court justices and Federal Judges should have a tenure placed upon them. Perhaps 15 to 17 years would help to guarantee impartiality and independence, while at the same time save the rest of us from old coots like Ginsburg and incompetent ones like Souter. When Kavanaugh is confirmed, unless there is an act of God, we can count on looking at him for the next forty years!!!! While I like him...I don’t LOVE him. That’s how long I’ve been married to my wife. I don’t want to be married to the same court justices for that period of time. It’s ridiculous to even try to fathom.

The government is not by the people or for the people. It is about a small group of elitists who’s only wish is to maintain power and rake in the cash. That is the way it has been since the first representatives were elected in the colonies, and that’s how it is now. And we are all too stupid or uninformed or lacking intelligently in our nation’s history to know it or understand it. Would to God the vast majority of our citizens would wake up and realize it. 

What is the answer? I shudder to think of it. An armed rebellion would only result in bloodshed and a worse situation than we have now. Perhaps we should take McConnell at his word. After two terms of anyone, no matter who they are or how well a job they are doing, we...the people...the voters...should vote them out and impose our own set of term limits. Alas, that will never happen either, because there are too many lemmings in this country instead of patriots. And what about the bureaucrats and judges that we can’t vote out? That’s another matter entirely. Maybe Trump was right. We just need someone in there who doesn’t give a flying flip what anyone thinks of them and start firing who they can, when they can, anyway they can. Then again, they’ve even made that almost impossible to do. 

We need another revolution. But of what kind that would be beneficial to all escapes me. Perhaps we are too far down the road, and there is no remedy to be found. May God help us all.

[starksinner]

All The Stars

Summary: It’s the first award show of the season and all of the Avengers are expected to make an appearance. 

Pairngs: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Warnings: Fluff, Drinking, Mentions of Anxiety, Flirting, Teasing

A/N: I know the Avengers would have no business attending a random award show, but Sebastian at the Golden Globes was giving me ideas. Sue me. Also, this one-shot was suppose to be published two weeks ago, but due to some draft and saving issues, this is my fourth time writing this. Anyways, hope you enjoy!

"I'm here with earth's mightiest heroes! Wanda Maximoff, Y/N L/N, and Natasha Romanoff! You ladies are looking lovely tonight!"

"Thank you so much!" Wanda laughed, shining her brilliant, bright smile at the television host. She locked her arms with you and Natasha, shooting you both a seductive, little wink.

They both looked stunning that night. Wanda's newly dyed, blonde hair contrasted beautifully against her form-fitted, black dress. The dress accentuated her curvaceous figure; she turned heads wherever she went. 

Natasha wore an elegant, emerald dress, lined with embroidered sequence. A slit ran up the fabric to the top of her waist, exposing her sensuous, long legs. She resembled a goddess; so perfect and divine.

You decided to go for the more easier route. You didn't know anything about prestigious Hollywood events, other than the fact that you were prone to being judged by everyone and anyone that cared to. With Pepper's help, you decided on a simplistic, maroon dress that was neither fancy, nor casual; kind of like you.

"What are you ladies most excited about, tonight?"

You quickly found the microphone pointed at your face. You were unable to contain your nervous laughter as the host beamed up at you merrily, awaiting your reply.

"Um - well . . . None of us are actresses or anything . . . But we're glad to be here to support Hollywood and the world of entertainment . . . It’s amazing just to be here among such a crowd of familiar faces . . .” 

"I know you and the rest of your team are here tonight! You all protect us and fight for us . . . We couldn’t be more grateful for your work and what you do . . ."

You felt Wanda squeeze your arm, encouragingly. 

"Well, thank you . . . I feel like our jobs aren't jobs, really . . . What we do is a part of us and I don't think we would have it any other way. We've never taken for granted the opportunities we've been given . . . It’s my honor to fight for justice and the people and I’m more then grateful for everyone’s love and support . . .”

"Thank you so much, Y/N! Thank you ladies for your time! I hope you all have a wonderful night!"

Natasha smiled back at the camera and gave the host a quick thank you, before guiding you and Wanda along the carpet. She waved as the three of you passed an ensemble of familiar faces. 

"You have a way with words I didn't know you had, Y/N . . ." Wanda intertwined her fingers with your own, as the group of you swerved around a large crowd of people.

You looked up at her and grinned, your eyes falling to her shimmery, red lip gloss. The woman who’s fingers were laced with yours was a natural beauty. 

"You're perfect in the spotlight, pretty girl. You're a natural born star . . ." Natasha lightly dragged her fingers over your butt, cackling as the blush on your cheeks grew more prominent.  

"I've never had a camera in front of my face like that . . . I think I need a drink before I actually throw up . . . God, I'm pretty sure I'm having a nervous breakdown . . ."

You and your favorite girls walked up to the bar and eyed the expensive beverages that covered the wall. You could hear shouting and the clicking of cameras echoing behind you; Hollywood was just too overwhelming. "I don't know how Tony lives this life. I could never . . ."

The cute, little bartender cleaning the counter of the bar placed a drink on the granite and shot you a knowing look. "Miss Y/N . . . Maybe, this will help . . . "

"Lord! Thank you, hun! Thank you very, very much . . ." You smiled at the pretty blonde and brought the fancy glass up to your glossed lips, gulping down the alcohol as fast as you could.

You needed someway to kill your growing anxiety. Alcohol had never let you down; you doubted it was going to now. 

"Whoa, whoa, whoa . . . I’ve never seen such a pretty lady so freaked the hell out . . ."

You smiled knowingly as you recognized the taunting voice behind you. Sam wrapped his arms around your waist and grinned cockily, as his eyes met yours. His chocolate irises melted beautifully against the mellow color of his dapper, grey suit. He looked like the perfect gentlemen.  

"You should slow down there, sweetheart . . . You shouldn’t get all crazy before the awards even start . . .”

You laughed as he wiggled his eyebrows, referring to the expensive drinks surrounding the both of you. "Lord, Wilson . . ." You grinned and placed your hands on his shoulders, pulling him in for a warm hug. You were met with the heavy scent of his cologne as he smiled and held you tighter. "You look hot as hell tonight, Sam . . . You’re gonna’ catch all the ladies . . .”

"As I always do, darling . . ."

Natasha scoffed and brought her arm over Sam's shoulders, poking his side gently. "You’re an idiot, you know that?”

“I’ve been told once or twice.”

Wanda smirked as she leaned against the bar and watched Nat examine Sam’s outfit. Her eyes roamed his body sensually, but she knew Natasha was only doing it to get Sam all riled up. She knew how much Nat loved teasing. 

“Where's the rest of the boys?” Nat grinned, taking her hands off Sam’s chest. “Are they off having fun without us?"

"Ah - well - heh - I actually have no clue where those fuckwads went . . . Steve left me for some girl on the carpet . . . Tony is . . . ravishing in the spotlight to exploit his ego . . . And the rest of them heard about the free food out back, so-"

"I did not leave you for some girl on the carpet!" Steve abruptly strutted over to the bar, adjusting the sleeves of his exquisite, navy blue suit. His eyes darted at Sam, shooting him a look, you admitted, you knew all too well. "She asked for an autograph for her kid. How could I just say no?"

The Captain hugged Wanda and Natasha, complimenting them on their beautiful dresses and appearances. As Sam stood next to them, muttering incoherent threats, Steve’s eyes softened as they fell on you.

“Rogers, I swear you just enjoy makin’ me all angry and shit - it’s like you want me to turn into the Hulk or somethin’! What kinda’ ‘friend’ leaves their buddy on the carpet like that, huh? You’re a-” 

Completely ignoring Sam’s pettiness, Steve chuckled and leaped forward, wrapping his arms around your frame and lifting you off the ground without any warning. 

"Whoa! Hey there, Stevie! How's it goin'?" You grasped his biceps and laughed as he placed you back on the floor, the corner of his mouth twitching upwards.". . . You're looking as radiant as ever, Y/N. You never disappoint . . .” 

You couldn’t help but smile at his boldness. Not many people knew, but Captain America, the country’s pride and joy, loved to be a little flirt. Steve was dirty. At this point, you didn’t know if he was joking anymore; and to be honest; you didn’t really care. 

His hands still gripped your waist as you shook your head and chuckled at his antics. "You don't look half bad yourself, Cap . . . You clean up pretty good when you try . . . The beard’s a perfect look . . .” 

Steve grinned innocently and licked his lips, his eyes falling to your blushed cheeks. “I thought I was the one that was suppose to do the flattering, doll . . .”

You winked and pointed a finger at his chest. “I’m only practicing on you so I can impress a special someone . . .”

Wanda and Natasha immediately perked up. “’Special someone’?”

“Where's your old war buddy?” You chuckled and ignored your over dramatic teammates. “Did Bucky get lost or somethin’? He’s an old man, you know . . . A senior citizen shouldn’t be wandering around all by his lonesome.” 

Steve smiled and tilted his head, motioning towards the carpet behind you. “He’s actually over there . . . He’s been there for a while, too . . .”

You turned your head and gazed upon the crowd of yelling paparazzi and celebrities strutting the carpet. The environment surrounding you wasn’t one that you cared to be in. The spotlight wasn’t necessary. The icons were fake. The reporters were infuriating. You were an Avenger, not a movie star. 

You were with your friends - sure - but as your eyes left Steve’s, that little bubble of comfort popped as you found yourself loathing the people and atmosphere around you. 

You guessed you could handle it for just one night. 

Just one night. 

Just a few more hours. 

God, there’s so many people here . . . 

“We should head over there, too . . .” Wanda suggested. She reached for Natasha’s arm and pulled her away from Sam, causing him pout like a little baby. “Stark would want us to keep up with appearances . . . Let’s go before Sam is not the only whiny child that arises . . .”

You watched as the two women locked arms and sauntered away from the bar, giggling at Sam’s sudden exasperation.

As the three of you followed Nat and Wanda, Steve noticed your apparent distaste for the limelight as an uncontrollable groan slipped past your lips. “You don’t like pictures, N/N? You’re beautiful! You don’t need to dread it! Don’t be afraid of a couple of cameras!”

“Oh, she’s a natural!” Natasha cooed, turning her head back to the three of you. “She just doesn't want to admit it . . .” 

You shot the redhead a lethal glare as the five of you stepped up to the red carpet, watching the current celebrities drown in their egos and reserved spotlights. 

That’s when, your eyes fell on him. 

Bucky stood assertively in the center of the stage, dressed in an exquisitely fitted, crisp black suit. The corners of his eyes crinkled as he laughed. He grinned at the screaming crowd of fans and photographers, all whom were desperate to get a shot of such a handsome man.

You smiled softly as you watched him shine from a distance. He looked so happy. He looked so full and beautiful. You were completely enraptured by his smile and style. He deserved it. He deserved the world. He deserved love and warmth. You hoped he knew that. 

You wanted to spoil him with love, with happiness, with worth. 

You would give him the world, if you actually could. 

“Y/N L/N! Captain America!” You didn’t notice people screaming out your name until Sam grasped your hand and pulled you out of Bucky’s intoxicating trance. 

“Are you alright? We can go back to the bar and get drinks if you want!” An unexpected crowd of fans and paparazzi roared and pointed at your group of friends. You quickly turned your attention away and smiled at Sam.

“It’s okay, Sam! I think I’ll be fine! OH, SHIT-”

Before you could maneuver your current position, you were abruptly pulled to the side by unexpected force.

A large pair of large hands held your sides, as you stumbled on your heels, your feet trying to restore balance. With a quiet oof, you collided against someone’s broad chest, taking in the sweet scent of their expensive cologne. As a a familiar chuckle echoed above you, your sudden fear quickly turned into a feeling of excitement. 

“Well . . . Hey there, doll,” Bucky shot you his signature little smirk. Before you could relish in the pleasantry of his hands on your body, keeping you steady, a burst of flashes blinded your vision as you realized you now stood in the middle of everyone’s attention. 

“Y/N and Bucky!”

“Are you guys are dating?”

“Y/N! Look over here!”

As you turned your body, your eyes growing accustom to the aggressive flashes, you felt Bucky pull your body closer.

His right hand lingered on your waist, while he held out the other, showing you off to the throng of people.

You smiled nervously and put your arm around him, trying to find a sense of comfort by his familiar presence. You always felt safer in his arms; you both did. 

“You look beautiful . . .” The soldier’s breath fanned over the brim of your ear as he leaned in close. “I’d love to just take you home, right now . . . Keep this vision of you in my head, forever . . . You’re stunning, doll.”

As the blush rushed to your cheeks, and the smirk on your face grew, the Avengers decided to finally make their red carpet appearance. 

“Y/N!” Tony lead the rest of group; Thor, Bruce, Clint, Rhodey, and Scott whom were all cleaning the ‘free food’ evidence off of their faces. “You’re looking mighty gorgeous, tonight . . .”

You grinned and kissed Tony cheek, greeting the others with chuckles because their buffet rendezvous. You still hung to Bucky’s side as he shook hands with the billionaire and commented on Thor’s colorful outfit choice of the night.

“Wow, Cap,” Tony put his hands on his hips and gaped. 

Your eyes flickered to Steve, Sam, Natasha, and Wanda whom all made their way down the carpet, smiling and laughing at the very loud supporters and reporters. 

“The Avengers!”

“Can you guys turn?”

“Look over here!”

Tony pulled Steve in for a hug, his eyes raking down the super soldier’s figure. “Love the suit. It totally matches with your deep, dark, oceans eyes . . .”

“.Uh, thanks, Tone . . .” Steve nodded nervously and patted Tony on the back, shifting his gaze away awkwardly. 

As everyone yelled at your group to line up for pictures, Earth’s mightiest heroes quickly obliged and squished together on the carpet. 

You were squeezed between Bucky and Thor; completely surrounded by testosterone. As the God of Thunder shot the crowd a thumbs up, a wave of women and men completely lost their minds.

This was never going to be your scene; but you were much more happy with your family surrounding you. You were much more comfortable with Bucky by your side. 

“I can hear your heart racing . . .” Bucky startled you as he spoke in your ear again, his voice dropping to a deep and raspy tone. “You don’t need to be nervous . . . You are the most magnificent person here . . .” His blue eyes wandered to the crowd for a moment, before he smirked proudly. “You’re also the most beautiful person I’ve ever had the pleasure of fighting along side with, doll. You know that, don’t you?”

Your E/C eyes sparkled as you stared up at him, your gaze falling to the trimmed scruff covering his chin. “You’re really sayin’ that, Buck? With everyone here? With the whole world watching?” 

Bucky’s soft eyes turned the background static as he looked down at you and beamed. “Anyone can hear it now, doll. You need to hear it, too . . . You need to understand how I feel about you.”

As the cameras flickered and your group of heroes moved along the carpet, Bucky took your hand and guided you back to the bar. The cheers from Wanda and Natasha did not go by unnoticed as you walked past the women and smiled apprehensively. 

You leaned casually against the bar as Bucky stood in front of you, biting the bottom of his lip restlessly. He held a glass of champagne and was analyzing your every move, as you refused to look up at him. 

“You’ve always been afraid of attention, doll . . . Even when we’re just being interviewed for the news or something, you just stand in the background . . .” He tapped his fingers impatiently against his glass. “But to me . . . You’ve always been the center of my world. I just - need you to know that . . .”

As he stepped closer, he leaned forward and put his glass on the counter behind you, causing a shiver to run up both your arms. The corner of his lips created a crease of amusement as you raised your eyebrows, studying him carefully. 

“You sure you know what you’re getting yourself into, James?” You couldn’t help but tease him as you reached forward and held onto his arms. 

Every fear you felt, everything you ever questioned about love; it all faded as you got drunk off his presence. “I’m trouble. I’m complicated, I’m crazy, I’m a lot of things . . . Are you sure you can handle that?”

Bucky tilted his head and placed his hands against your cheeks. “I’ll try my fuckin’ best to keep up, doll.”

That’s when your lips finally connected. 

Drama. Romance. Action. Comedy.

You had a new appreciation for it all as the world around you disappeared, in return for the feeling of Bucky's lips pressed against your own.

You were no actress. You were no celebrity. But in a place full of stars, you truly did receive, the best award.

[sceawere]

peregrine | ben tallmadge

anon request: If you get the time could I please have a Benjamin Tallmadge imagine where you are his wife and also work as a spy for Washington (but Ben doesn't know). Then you save his life in the woods while on a mission and when he wakes up he wants to give out because you are meant to be home and safe?

-

“Turns out your wife’s a spy, Benny boy. How about that?” Caleb had thrown out, punctuating the end of the statement with a long draw of his flask.

It had taken a while for Ben to wake up once you’d dragged him back to camp, the dehydration and exhaustion taking quite the toll on his body. Dropping him against the ground a few times likely hadn’t helped his recovery, but he’d been dead weight, you had a blown-out ankle of your own to worry about, and four miles was a long way to walk through rough forest while trying to stay silent and invisible. To have only fallen down two embankments with your unconscious husband slung around you was a victory in your eyes.

It was meant to be an easy mission, as far as spying missions into enemy held territory go. In and out, grab and go.

For what remained of the ‘civilised world’ – the people who didn’t live in muddy war camps and hide in the brush from men with guns – you were but a poor, put-upon woman who had to suffer under the knowledge that her husband, estranged husband for appearances, had run off to join the rebels. It was a surprisingly efficient cover. You’d assumed people would shun you when you’d arrived at your aunt’s house in the city soon after the start of the war, that they’d stay well away for fear of being stained by association. Mostly, they expressed pity and condescension.

Ben had wanted you far away from the lines and the lying. Away from the battles and the business. Your aunt was known to be if not a modest loyalist, then at least an uninterested party, and she lived in a safe territory. In a house, not a camp. She had a pension to live off, food on the table at the same hour every night, no worries about supply lines or ambushes in the darkness. Somewhere for you to wait out the war, to weep in peace.

You’d tried to stay anonymous at first, tried to keep your hood up, and your head down. But the whispers found their way, and once your married name was known to those with names of their own, silence was no longer an option. Loyalties were questioned. Stories were concocted. Perfect expressions of naïve sorrow were adopted.

It turned your stomach to have to lie about your husband, and so your aunt never made you. She let you bow your head at their questions, let a maternal hand fall softly at your shoulder. It was a wonder to watch her performances, to see how people withered and soared under her hand, like marionettes who couldn’t spy their own strings.

She’d don a stern but concerned look, wax lyrical on the ordeals of war on women, on how all you’d done was make a good marriage as a young girl, on how as soon as you’d realised what was happening you’d fled to the safety of the city and kept out of the rebel business as was proper.

Oh, but I apologise, of course. Oh, but I never meant. Oh, but I only repeated that which I had already heard. They’d reply, flickers of panic in their eyes at her rolling tone, stern and whipping even in its softness.

‘Sometimes even I’m not sure what you’ve said in my defence you turn the words over in so many ways’ you’d told her, and she’d laughed.

‘The more you say, the less they usually listen. They don’t want to admit to themselves that they haven’t understood, or that they were mistaken, or that they were God forbid, wrong about something. Their care for their image is far too easy to exploit’

You’d put your aunt’s lessons to great use once all this had started. Played your part as the weary half-widow. Neutral and null. Innocent and innocuous.

An expected reply of low hums and mumbles always followed her ambiguous statements, furrowed brows and concerned clutches to stomachers, before the charade was accepted to have been performed, and the conversation moved on.

It was a well-worn routine by now and you’d slipped surprisingly well into the role.

‘You stay vague, and they fill in whatever scenery they wish to see behind your words’ she’d instilled in you ‘You keep your head high, and your trust closely guarded, and try to flow with the wave, lest it drown you’

You thought back in times like this to something she’s said when you were little, distressed over your brothers fighting in the yard.

‘Oh sweetheart, let them battle each other until one of them can stand on the hill and feel like a big boy. When they look down they will see all the things you have planted while they were busy being fools, and realise they have nothing to show for it but their muddy clothes’

You assumed she held much the same sentiment now, given the way she kept her head high, and her trust close, and her eye on her ledger, rather than on the battle line that lay but few hours travel from the house you inhabited.

But your eye had been firmly on the line. Your ear on the whispers that spread through the parlours from army wives, and from maid to maid. Your heart on a shadow that passed through the night, hoping that it wasn’t only the spirit that would find you in future. Once all this nonsense was over. Once sons and brothers and husbands had come home, to look after their own.

‘I have to see him. I’m losing my mind, stitch by stitch, by stitch’ you’d stabbed aimlessly at the fabric before you to punctuate your words, dropping back into the chair with a heavy sigh as she eyed you.

‘Well, Mrs Burke has been so ill, I’m sure she’d appreciate the company” she suggested, eyes on her own work.

Your hand stilled where it had been tracing over your lips. You flopped your arm down over the edge of the armrest, squinting over at your aunt.

“Mrs Burke died three days ago” you said, emphasising the date.

“Oh, well we don’t know that, do we dear?”

“You read the letter to me!”

“Oh, well they don’t know that, do they dear?”

You laughed, slumping down further into the chair. The dog had curled up between your hip and the edge and he whined when you jostled him. You cooed down at him, moving the hoop away from his little head so the needle stuffed into the work wouldn’t catch him should he move.

‘Auntie, are you suggesting we concoct a fictional act of kindness, so I can go to visit my rebel husband behind the line, risking all our reputations and future security should we be discovered?’

“Well, if I was dear, I wouldn’t have explained it out for all to hear” she pursed her lips, looking up as she pulled a stitch through. She sighed as she noted you slumped in your chair, but didn’t scold you, and you smiled to yourself.

“I have suspected Freckles as a spy these past weeks you know” you whispered conspiratorially, patting the dogs head when he whined by your side. She tutted back at you but stayed quiet. You picked up the dog, cuddling him to your chest as you walked about the room.

“How would it even work?”

-

Mrs Burke’s house was in fact empty, her body buried out in the yard beneath the old tree. It would take some time for her estate to be settled, her family scattered as they were, the war getting in the way, and so no-one was there to notice you swerve around the house and set off into the woods instead.

You’d gotten word to Caleb that this would be the meeting place, but he was nowhere to be seen, and the sun was already moving down in the sky. You huddled your cloak around you, moving into the cover of a tree to avoid being seen from the track. Eyes one way, and the other. Your hand moved down to pull your knife out of your skirts, feeling more comfortable holding it ready in your grip while you were out here alone.

Bird song. The sway of wind. The babble of a brook off through the treeline. The hum of your breath. The settling of the house behind you. The crack of a branch.

You swung around, putting the tree at your back as your eyes darted about. You adjusted your grip on the knife, keeping it hidden beneath your cloak.

A shadow caught your eye, out in your periphery, by the house. You squinted and tilted your head, the ground squelching beneath your feet as you moved closer.

“Caleb? What the hell are you doing?”

Caleb continued his path down the back steps of Mrs Burke’s house, apple in hand, half chewed.

“I was waiting in Burke’s house, where we said. What you doing out here?”

“Waiting where we really said, in the woods, behind Burke’s- please tell me you are not eating a poor dead widows food?”

Caleb stalled in his chewing for just a second, before taking another large bite.

“It’s going to waste” he explained, and you sighed, trying to get your knife back through the slit in your skirts and nearly stabbing your thigh in the process.

“Can we please just get going?” you sighed, turning back to the woods “Where is your horse? Or your boat? Or…whatever means you arrived by?”

He came up behind you, took your arm, and began to lead you off to one side. You sighed, tucking yourself into him after a moment, hand latched over his arm as though you were out for a country walk and not skulking about in the shadows.

He threw the core away when he was done with it, reaching into the pockets of his coat. He produced an apple, presented it to you.

“Want one?” he asked, and you rolled your eyes, taking it from him and stuffing it under your cloak for later. He laughed, pecking a kiss to your temple.

“Oh, you smell nice. Is that for Benny?” he smirked.

“Some of us just find the time to bathe between special occasions, actually Brewster”

“Oh really, that sounds lovely. I’ve been living in the woods for six months” he snarked back, unhooking arms with you to untie the horse from the tree it was pottering about. You crossed your arms while he worked, looking around the woods for anything that caught your interest. Just in case.

“I can’t believe I ever thought we might be married. The follies of childhood are remarkable”

“We were married!” he bellowed in jest, and you shushed him.

“We were seven! Anna was the priest! Our witness was a goat. It doesn’t count!”

“If Benny hadn’t have gone on that growth spurt, I tell ya” he clicked his tongue, pushing up to get on the horse “You’d be Mrs Brewster right about now”

“Hardly likely” you reached for his outstretched hand, swinging up to seat behind him. You secured your arms around his waist, poking his stomach, and delighted in the laugh that rolled through him. You’d been without your friends for so long.

“Off we go then, Mrs Tallmadge. Let’s get you to Benny before the sun goes down”

-

Ben had not been very happy to see you at first, not that you’d expect him to be. He’d been explicit about you keeping your distance, barely even sending letters in case it jeopardised your safety. You’d get cryptic notes occasionally, disguised within other letters so without scrutiny they would never be known. It tore at you as you traced the letters, the curve of his hand, that this was all you could have until this was over.

You thought maybe Caleb would let on where he was going at least. Give Benjamin some time to adjust to the thought. But his face as you were walked into camp showed otherwise. First shock, then the fire came behind his eyes. He marched towards the two of you, grabbing Caleb’s arm when he walked ahead. You hung back, stood in the mulch of the camp as people stared all around.

Men were sat in the entries of their tents, some bloodied and bandaged. Uniforms were scattered about, hung drying over tree limbs and tent poles. Most down to their shirt sleeves even in the chill of the evening. Fires were already lit, darkness barely holding off the horizon. Ben was still hissing at Caleb when you caught sight of a man across the way. He was stood just inside a large tent, entry pulled back on one side. Men were scattered around a table, passing slips of paper back and forth, moving things around on the surface. Battleplans, you assumed. The man held your gaze, the paper in his hand forgotten. You turned your head back to your husband and friend, aware that the man did not move his own gaze for a few moments.

Ben sighed, jaw steeling at whatever Caleb had said back to him. It had worked in soothing him slightly, because he stepped away from the argument and instead towards you. He took brisk steps, pausing just before you to bow. Your lips twitched at the formality, ever the gentleman as he was. Ever the proper soldier he’d become. You gave a curtsy in turn.

“It does suit you. As much as it pains me to admit” you lay a hand on the lapel of his coat, breath caught in your throat. Tears were threatening, the sight of him after so long releasing so much that you had kept bottled up and hidden from the whispering gazes of the city.

He lifted your hand to his cheek, pressing a kiss into the palm. He clamped his eyes shut, rolling his cheek across your skin. You swallowed the tears as you shuffled in closer, trying to keep your propriety when all you wanted to do was pull him flush into you, onlookers be damned.

“Come on” he mumbled, taking your hand in his, turning back to the camp. The men were emerging from the tent, and Benjamin stalled in his progress as he took notice. A deep sigh left him as he moved to link arms with you, much as Caleb had before.

“Sir” he nodded.

“Major” one nodded back, flanked by the man whose eye you’d caught.

“You’re a Major now?” you whispered to him, taking your own moment to be shocked and a little put out at not being informed. Ben looked over at you, then turned his head back quickly, adjusting his footing.

“I fear we are not acquainted” the man spoke, and you tore your eyes away from your husband’s profile.

“General Washington, this is my lady wife” he introduced you, shuffling his body turned more towards you before motioning towards the man “and this is General Washington”

You gave a curtsy, plastering on your best smile, dropped a polite ‘sir’.

“And his Aide-de-camp Lieutenant Colonel Hamilton”

You repeated the action, and he gave his own polite nod. His gaze moved to your husband for the first time and you let out a breath, confused with his attention.

“Neither did I sir”

You’d missed part of the conversation, sure it was Washington asking about your sudden arrival.

“Uh, this would be my doing, actually” Caleb raised his hand, and all the men turned their heads at once. You almost laughed at the action, burying it down, sure they would not appreciate it “Ben’s been forlorn with the absence of his dear wife, sir, I thought it necessary for his health to re-unite them”

You tilted your head at the same time Ben did, rolling your lips to keep from laughing as you furrowed your brow. Whether Caleb being romantic or deferential was more disturbing was in question. Caleb shrugged, moving his weight from foot to foot.

“You did say we were technically on leave this week, sir” he continued, and you frowned for real, eyes moving to Ben once again.

“You get leave?” you asked him later, barely through the flaps of his tent. He waved his hand, asking you to lower your voice, which only annoyed you more.

“A few days here and there with no clear schedule” he defended, and you shook your head “I’d rather not spend what time we have together arguing”

“You’d rather not spend time with me at all, it seems” you muttered as you crossed your arms under your cloak, aware you were paddying like a child but unable to restrain yourself.

Ben sighed, shucking his jacket off and throwing it over a chair.

“Why do you have furniture in here? This is most odd” you looked around at the table, the chair.

“Where am I supposed to work?” he asked, coming over to unhook your cloak for you.

You gave a little whine of ‘I don’t know’, sniffing as you looked up to him. He let the cloak drop back behind you, onto the mat, and brought his hands to your waist.

“I missed you. I really do wish I could have more time with you, but it just isn’t safe” he explained, dropping his forehead to yours. You pushed up onto your toes, hooking hands around his neck.

“I missed you so much I could barely breathe” you whined, rolling your forehead to his temple as he shushed you. He was silenced himself when you met his lips with yours, fingers winding into the lock of hair at the nape of his neck. One hand of his moved to frame your jaw, thumb tracing carefully over the plane of your cheek. He had the start of a smirk on his face as he pulled back, fingers diving down your spine to curl into the laces.

“Maybe you’d breathe better without this”

You pushed further up, kissing him through your giggle, as he started to tug at the ties. Your laughter grew as he pulled back again, brow furrowing in concentration as he tried to undo the knot one handed.

“Oh, honestly!” you released him and turned your back, laughter growing as he gripped an arm around your stomach and slapped at your thigh with the other.

“I’m a bit out of practice, you know” he mumbled into your ear, tracing the shell with his nose as he pulled you flush against him.

“Well, that’s very re-assuring” you tilted your head back to meld into him. He hummed a response, his concentration fully on trailing kisses down the side of your throat rather than at working the laces free. His hand had grasped into your skirt now, pulling it up your thigh just a little as you sighed.

“God, I missed you”

“Is that not blasphemy or…something?” you wound your fingers over his at your waist.

“Aren’t you glad I didn’t become a preacher after all?”

“Right- “Caleb’s voice broke through behind you and you sighed so hard it turned into a groan. Ben released you, making sure to step away as he perched on the edge of his desk. Caleb looked between the two of you as you crossed your arms over your chest, not sure why you felt so exposed given that you barely had a loose lace in sight.

“Before you get into all that” he winked over at you and you sneered at him.

“Caleb- “Ben began, hand running over his face. He looked weary, sounded so.

“She’s here three days at most, and it’s likely I won’t see the sight of her during that time” he protested “Besides, Washy needs you for a moment and I thought you’d rather be pulled away now than later, yeah?”

Ben pushed up from the desk and pulled his jacket back on. You stepped over and made sure to straighten everything up for him, pressing a kiss to his cheek before he left.

“We caught up on the ride here, Caleb, what else could you possibly want to hear from me?” you joked, falling back onto Ben’s camp bed. You scowled, sitting back up and re-adjusting the pillows behind you. Caleb swung the chair around and once seated, leant right over to you.

“I want to hear all about what you’ve seen in the city, that’s what”

You frowned, stalling on the bed.

“Looks like Hamilton’s got some ideas about making you useful and I’m here to test the waters”

“Yes, he seemed to have a certain interest in me. But what could he possibly- “

“We’ve been trying to get into the city for weeks. Not having much luck. But you- “you dotted a fingertip to your nose “You’re already embedded. And someone we can trust not to go blabbing to anyone else for the sake of your dear Benny”

“I live there” you corrected “Hold on, you want me to- “

You lowered your voice, eyeing the tent flaps.

“You want me to be your spy in the city?”

Caleb smiled, spreading his hands wide, before resting his forearms on his knees.

“You’ve gone mad. Not that you were much of anything minded before, but this war has done you in, Brewster” you looked from one eye to the other.

“Oh, Tweet” you rolled your eyes at his old nickname for you, given your childhood love for nursing birds back to health on your uncle’s farm “you have no idea”

“Caleb, you can’t honestly think- “

“I think” he leaned forward again “you’re bored out of your skull back there. And you want to help Ben, but you don’t know how. I’m offering you a way”

“I don’t think Benjamin would be very happy to find you’re offering his wife up in this way”

“You were our friend before you were his wife, he doesn’t get sole rights to you”

“No, he does not”

“No, besides. You might want to have a chat with Anna sometime soon”

You watched him carefully.

“She’s been determined to change my mind about the women’s work around here, you get me? She’s doing a convincing job”

“Anna?” you asked, and he shrugged “Ben will never- “

“Why do you think I asked Ben to leave, eh?”

You sighed, sat back on the bed.

“I need some time to think. Consider” you explained, and he nodded. He stood, returned the chair to where he’d found it. He pressed a quick kiss to your forehead and moved away again.

“You’ve got three days” he called over his shoulder, the tent flowing shut behind him.

-

Hamilton caught you on the way out, passed a note into your hand. You eyed it carefully, turned it over in your hands.

“Last chance to change your mind, Mrs Tallmadge”

You moved your eyes passed the paper to the floor first, before looking up at him. You made a show of tucking the paper down the front of your stomacher, tucking your cloak back around you. You dropped a curtsy, one not quite so deep, and made sure to have eye contact again before you spoke.

“It was lovely to meet you, sir” you gave a smile, and turned to leave.

-

“Turns out your wife’s a spy, Benny boy. How about that?” Caleb had thrown out, punctuating the end of the statement with a long draw of his flask.

Ben let the cup he’d been guzzling from drop to the ground between his knees, his fingers gripping so tight it almost dented the metal.

“What?”

He’d been so confused when he’d woken up; where he was, what had happened, why you were here. You’d cleaned him up while he was asleep, and Caleb had been kind enough to help clean the scrapes off your shoulder where you’d slid into a bristled mess.

You’d sat quietly, rolling your sore ankle, while Caleb explained everything he’d missed. Including the fact you’d been sneaking intel in and out of the city without him knowing.

“How long has this been happening?” his face scrunched up as he motioned with his hands, animation increasing as his grogginess wore off.

“Four months…or so” you revealed, avoiding his probing eyes. He launched up from where he’d been sat at the edge of the bed, almost stumbling in his weakened state.

“Or so?” he questioned, and you leaned around him to shout at Caleb’s retreating figure, silenced before you could begin as the tent flap fluttered shut behind him. You groaned, straightening back up as you realised this was now firmly a domestic dispute.

“Hang on, four months is…” he held his hand out before him, face turned in concentration. You rocked back and forth on the edge of the desk, keeping your head low as he came to the realisation. “You went on for three days about me keeping secrets and you knew this was happening? Well, did you only come to- “

“No! Ben, I came because I hadn’t seen my husband in six months and I wasn’t sure ‘til I saw you with my own eyes you were truly even still with us for goodness sake! I survived on cryptic notes and little else. I really don’t think you have a place to judge. You’re in charge of us all, you’re the spy guy!”

“And yet I didn’t even know my wife was…” he put his hands to his hips, turned on the spot in frustration “Which are you?”

“Well, I’m not going to give myself up that easily, Benny. You should know that about me by now” you tried to turn it to a joke, but he was uninterested in humour.

“You’re Peregrine” he surmised, nodding to himself.

“Well…that was quick” you breathed, adjusting your arms where they were crossed at your chest.

“I was about to say I know you too well but obviously not” he replied, his back still turned to you.

“I love you, Benjamin”

He hummed slightly in response, far away in thought as he digested it all, and you pushed away from the table. You pushed your forehead against his back, hand trailing round to hold over his heart.

“I love you, Benjamin” you insisted. He covered your hand with his, kissing your knuckles.

“I love you, too. But I need you to stop”

“No”

“Yes. This is too dangerous” he turned around, taking your hands in his.

“You’re the spy master, you’ve seen the reports. I have three missions under my belt in only four months! If I wasn’t a spy, you’d be dead in the forest by now! I’m good at this!”

“And I’m grateful for your help but this needs to be the end of it. You’re putting yourself at too much risk. What happens when something goes wrong, and you’re stranded in the city? I’ll want to march an army in to save you and I won’t be able to. I won’t be able to even acknowledge that it happened. You’re putting your aunt at risk, you’re- “

“I wouldn’t even be in the city if you hadn’t decided to join a rebel army and you’re lecturing me about putting loved ones at risk?”

Ben sighed, flattening a palm against the edge of the desk as he went woozy. You flattened your own palm against his chest, the other taking his arm as you guided him towards the chair. Stopping before him, you met his eyes.

“I’m a good spy, Benjamin. I’m a good wife. Now, I might not be a soldier, I might not be able to fight. But I can help. I can help”

“It’s not that I don’t think you’re not capable”

“Then why not?”

“Precisely because you’re not a soldier!” he argued, half a scoff in his tone.

“Neither were you when we met! We all find ourselves in very different positions than before” you shot back, and he shook his head, turning away from you “When we met you were a boy with his head in his books, Benjamin. I never signed up to be a soldier’s wife. But I signed up for this. I chose this.

We both made decisions without consulting the other because we thought it was the right thing to do. How can you chastise me for doing just what you had already done?”

“I can’t…” he sighed, flattening his palms against the desk that looked at odds in the tent. You’d joked to the other women it was like bringing a pig into a study and calling it practical. He steeled himself before his admission “I can’t lose you. Not like this. I can’t be there to protect you”

“It’s what you expect me to do” you whispered back, and he tilted his head. His eyes moved up slowly, finally meeting yours. You realised how heavy you were breathing as you swallowed down your anger, falling into the worry you’d wallowed in for months “I’ve been half a widow ever since you rode off. I haven’t slept a full night since this thing started, Benny, I can’t. I can’t bear to”

He straightened up, bringing his hands to trail over yours, shushing you almost silently. You steeled yourself, determined to continue until this was done.

“You can send me away. You have that ability. But if you do it, I will never respect you the same way I always have, Benjamin” you swallowed your fear, your anger, your worry.

Ben sighed, an ever-increasing action on his part, tucking his head down to rest his forehead against yours.

“Please don’t send me away, Benny” you whispered, relenting into the soft embrace he offered.

-

“And you have your- “Ben sighed as you waved the paper in front of his face, reaching out to grab your wrist when you grazed his cheek with it. You laughed as he bent to kiss you, giving you a stern look before releasing you and instructing you to turn around.

“Sunrise on Friday. Any later and I’m riding in to pull you out” he insisted, helping drape your cloak over your shoulders.

“You will not be doing any such thing because you will blow everyone’s cover and throw this whole war out of balance. So, you better get good at what every wife in this forsaken land has done and sit quietly, twiddling your thumbs and waiting” you teased, tying it secure around your collar. You turned with a sigh, eyes tracing over him once more.

He insisted on sending you off for the next mission personally, having grilled you on the details for days and driving you and Caleb mad in his pedantry. There had been an interesting incident where he railed at Hamilton and Caleb for recruiting his wife without his knowledge that had been a sight to see, but mostly your time in camp had been spent studying and reciting.

“One week from today” he reminded, and you nodded, reaching for one last kiss. You lay your foreheads together for just a moment before he led you out into the camp.