#about all these foolish and misguided women

[rixareth]

As requested, I have examined my fondness for terrible characters, and I have concluded that I like them because they're terrible and I'm not sorry.

#light yagami #joe goldberg #jack shephard #joshua kiryu #ardyn izunia #james sunderland #arnold rimmer #this entry brought to you because someone recommended YOU to me #so i checked out the wikipedia article #and the 'cultural influence' section was MADDENING #extremely patronising to be so concerned #about all these foolish and misguided women #(not exclusively women #but i do feel i mainly see this 'concern' targeted at women) #expressing fondness for a Bad Person #who is Not Real

[quotergirl19]

Colin & Penelope when he finds out she published one last Whistledown column after he assumed she would stop writing once they became betrothed:

Colin: How could you? You risk being found out and bringing scandal on both our families. You are my fiancé! What were you thinking taking such a risk without even talking to me first, we’re supposed to be a team!

Penelope: Don’t worry, the Bridgerton name is safe and you are still free… you don’t have to marry me. Perhaps you’re even a little relieved.

Colin: What?

Penelope: We both know the ton thinks I trapped you. If my secret did get out, no one would question why our engagement was called off and you wouldn’t have to go through with marrying me.

Colin: You… you want to end our betrothal?

Penelope: Everyone knows you never actually wanted me as your wife… you said as much yourself.

Colin: So you never planned to go through with marrying me, and everything between us has been a lie? But you kissed me… and you allowed me to take so many liberties.

Penelope: I have no regrets about what we have done. But I would never force your hand or steal your future, Colin. You deserve to marry someone for love. Not out of pity or friendship or some misguided sense of protectiveness for a girl who you’ve known forever who lacks other prospects… and certainly not because of a few fleeting moments of passion.

Colin: I… I thought you cared for me?

Penelope: It is because I care so deeply that I will not rob you of your future happiness. In time you will see this is for the best. You can travel a bit and one day you will meet a better woman. Someone worthy of both your heart and the Bridgerton name… someone you could truly be proud to call yours.

Colin: You honestly believe it will be easy for me to forget about you… about us. Do you truly think me so fickle hearted?

Penelope: No. Of course not. But you love Marina, it doesn’t matter that we… I know you never…

Colin: Never what? Wanted to kiss you? Or hold you in my arms? Longed for you in my bed? Wanted you by my side for the rest of my life? Imagined building my life with you? Dreamed of having a family with you… of daughters with your smile and sons with your wit?

Penelope: Not until after you kissed me. It was impulsive and we both know you never…

Colin: I missed you so desperately when we were apart that I cut my travels short just to be near you! When you didn’t write to me I was terrified I had lost you forever to another man!

Penelope: You were merely concerned because you left my family without protection when you scared off my cousin Jack. You never planned on…

Colin: Falling in love with my best friend? Well I did.

Penelope: Don’t be ridiculous Colin you never loved me. The only woman you ever loved was Marina. Even after you knew how she deceived you, you longed to be hers, you swore off women because you couldn’t have her. Don’t you think I know the truth? That you are settling for me! Don’t you think I know when you kiss me that you close your eyes and wish they were her lips on yours? Would you honestly condemn me to a lifetime of knowing I will always be second best, when you are the only man I have ever wanted?

Colin: I was an infatuated, foolish boy, manipulated by a scared, desperate young woman who never really cared about me at all. I am not that boy anymore. You are my oldest, most trusted friend. You have been part of my life forever. No other women has ever treated me better or will ever mean what you mean to me. I choose you. I want you. I need you. Only you, Penelope. Forever. When I think of losing you, I feel as though I cannot breathe. So don’t you dare stand there and tell me I will forget you and move on as though losing the love of my life would mean nothing to me.

Penelope: Me? The love of your life?

Colin: Isn’t it obvious?

Penelope: Then you want to marry me?

Colin: As infuriating as your reckless disregard for your own reputation has been, yes. I’m quite mad for you. And I refuse to let you ruin both our lives… so if you don’t stop talking about ending our engagement and promise to never write Whistledown again, I may do something insane like tie you to the bed and have my way with you until you finally see reason and accept that you are the only woman for me. You are not alone anymore, your actions effect both of us.

Penelope: Alright.

Colin: What? You concede the point?

Penelope: Well, I love you… and if you love me as you say you do then I agree to what you ask. But if I simply agree, I fear you won’t believe that I truly intend to do as you wish. So I intend to let you do your worst… before I make my promises.

Colin: You’re going to let me tie you to the bed?

Penelope: I’m afraid I must. For the sake of our future happiness of course. Here, you can use the hideous yellow ribbons my mama insisted on buying me… hopefully they tear, but lock the door first.

Colin: See! What other young lady would let me win an argument and then insist I ravish her while offering up her ribbons to ensure she could not escape. You are utterly mad! …In the best way, let me help you out of that dress.

Penelope: I’ll even let you do that thing you wanted to do in front of the mirror first… light some more candles.

Colin: An offer I cannot refuse… is this how you intend us to make up when we argue once we’re wed?

Penelope: Don’t be ridiculous darling, once we wed I shall always be right.

Colin: How silly of me, of course… happy wife, happy life.

Penelope: Precisely dearest, you’re catching on quite nicely.

#bridgerton #polin #quotergirl mini fic #penelope featherington #colin bridgerton #penelope x colin #colin x penelope #friends to lovers #she fell first he fell harder

[thefoxxyreview]

The Argument against Trent Lane

The argument against Trent Lane”

 *Show spoilers ahead*  

         Many long time Daria fans have enjoyed shipping different characters together through the years. It is rather funny to me that as much as people do this meaningless practice, Daria is a rare show in that the people that are meant to be in relationships are with their person already. Jodie with Mac, Kevin with Brittany, and Daria and Tom Not together at the end of the series. WHAT ABOUT TRENT?? Yes of course at the start of the show we see Daria place her misguided affection on the nearest and most familiar guy she meets, her best friends’ brother. What we do not consider when we watch this show is basic sociology and teen logic. It is perfectly normal (not necessarily right) for Daria to have a crush on someone who is out of her reach that is around her all the time. Even with all her wisdom, Daria still finds herself in that category of teen girl who believes she is too mature, or too well adjusted to associate or date any of the guys at Lawndale High. Who hasn’t already dated her sister? Trent is a more edgy and cooler guy following his personal beliefs and dreams. All things that Daria admires and hold as standards for herself. My issue with Trent is not that Daria had a crush on him. The real issue; Not once does Trent try to dissuade Daria from liking him. He revels in her attention if you watch the show carefully. He may seem wistfully aloof to a first-time watcher, but to someone like myself who uses this show for comfort, I can see that Trent is quietly enjoying the attention that he gets from Daria. Where else would he get it from? Women his age see him for what he truly is, 21 years old, living at home with a busted car and a rock star dream. Jane sympathizes with Daria and helps things along by putting Daria in awkward spots to be alone with Trent. This could be Jane’s own misguided teenage shenanigans. She somewhat gets amused at the idea of Daria flirting with her brother. Jane never truly believes Daria can woo her brother. Her look of absolute disbelief when she discovers that Trent had called Daria at home said it all. Jane simply hung up and kept the information to herself until she heard something reasonable from Daria. Trent of course in this episode “Pierce Me” masks any advances he makes towards Daria in the guise of looking for an appropriate birthday gift for Jane. Daria ends up letting Trent convince her to get a belly button ring. Trent suggested it, and I cringe when he touches her naval. I can feel the flutters in her stomach and the utter embarrassment is written on her blushing face. She says no, jokingly, but she does say no. He says,” Daria…it would look REALLY hot…” and the next thing you know she is on that table holding his hand waiting for the piercer. At first it is almost empowering that she made such an out of character fun decision. But alas she did it for the admiration of a guy she fancies. I understand her disappointment and I think this is where her disillusionment of Trent begins. He enjoyed taking Daria out and making her blush so much. He then succeeds in convincing her to do something as foolish as that, what else could he get her to do?  He ended up writing a song for Jane and performed it at the nightclub that Mystic Spiral frequents. I personally feel that with the way Trent’s creative patterns work, he had been working on that song already and that entire outing with Daria was a way for him to experience being out with her just one time. Its why he paused before he even said his reason for coming to her house. My boy was suspect back in season one in “This year’s Model” when he randomly showed up to the school to watch the modeling tryouts. His reasoning for being there was that he needed to get use to being around model types. Is it a reach to say it sad that security in high schools back in the 90s was just that horrible that he simply walked into the school after hours? The girls trying out were underaged, and the mindset to chase women due to an inflated sense of self-worth starts with stunts such as this. HE aspires to greater things for himself it makes sense that anyone hot at any age would be into him. His favorite rock idols exemplify this behavior of preying on groupies. Hate to say that Daria is Mystic Spiral’s first real groupie. It all came to a boiling point when Trent stayed at the Morgandorfer household in “Lane miserables” in season three. Daria’s father had bonded with the young man in the musical episode when they both spazzed over Daria and jane being in danger. Why would he not trust such a nice guy? A man he once used to feel was another government leech looking for a handout…but I digress. Daria lets out a small noise in surprise at the idea of Trent staying in their home. He smiles at Daria knowingly. A hot meal in a quiet place for the night, and a girl I wouldn’t mind examining even closer. Trent stays the night and seriously pushes the boundaries with Daria. He waltzes into her room, and she is visibly uncomfortable in her nightgown. She folds her arms in front of her chest, presumably covering her no bra breasts. He makes idle conversation with her making himself comfortable on her bed. He does this and enjoys the attention right before going on his date with his on again off again boo Monique. IT hurts Daria at first, she has seen this woman before, at the piercing shop a season ago. Trent doesn’t come back to the house until an ungodly hour, Helen is less than thrilled about it. Apparently, he spent a long time breaking up with Monique, a toxic cycle he endures often with her. Daria while he was away has snapped to reality. She had imagined a world where she did wait for Trent, and they got together. He was the same lay around lazy man he had always been when they first met. Daria does not look forward to that life, no matter how much she may like Trent right now, she must be real with herself before anyone else. Trent leaves and says creepily as he departs “Too bad you’re not a few years older…I could take you out!” and he laughs to himself with a charming smokers cough to go with it. I have no idea why men think that is a compliment or a joke. Daria tries to think of the potential that Trent possesses and wants to believe it could be that way, but with a sad “damn…” she lets it go and the Daria Trent romance thankfully comes to an end. Trent sees Everything he would want in a partner; her age is just in the way. It is he after all that points out that Tom, Jane’s boyfriend in season three, has an interest in Daria beyond friendship. Takes one to know one, but again I am reaching possibly. It is this season that I feel Trent becomes aware of Daria not having a crush on him as well as Jane not being home anymore to kick it with him. Right before we the viewers have forgotten Trent’s integral part in their relationship, he is asked by the two friends to do some music for their school project. He ends up fumbling the play and the project is a bit lack lustrous without a mystic spiral soundbite playing in the background. When he talks to Daria later, he simply tells her that he “Just couldn’t get the music together…” there was no other explanation. Daria, no longer blinded by the rose-colored glasses that are infatuation, told Trent straight that it was a school project with a deadline. He retorted that a deadline does not direct his creativity. He followed with he always thought that Daria understood him and his way of processing life and choices. “I do get you Trent…” yeah just not the way that she use to. He had room for error when she was naïve to his shenanigans and irresponsibility. We can applaud Trent for never fully enacting his desires onto Daria. He did however make it obvious that he wanted her to wait for him. Trent is charming and we love him for his drive and message in the show to do what you truly want even if you struggle. What I cannot ignore, are his obvious passes at Daria and how after season 3 their disconnect is obvious. The sweet farewell kiss he gives her on the cheek, thankfully happened when she was 18….

[cosmicangel888]

Prophecy and NEW EARTH ~ 5D EARTH - Blatant TRUTH

Are you NOW seeing the blatant discrimination ...... 3D is not 5D

Healing must be a priority .....humanity is not balanced and there is much to clear, clean, and prevail - so much injustice and imbalance

There is a huge wave taking place this year

Those of us that have been talking about human trafficking for years,

Standing in our light for advancement and understanding of human value, worthiness

Organized crime is due to the very suffocation of the have's vs have nots, and what group is this? Where is the wealth of the world, who are these that are of the wealthiest - who are they?

Organized crime, corruption in every fabric and the disconnection of spirit, wounding, soul wounding, what and why is this a thing?

crime is not necessary - all is healable

violence is not necessary - all is healable

discrimination is the core of all imbalances upon our planet 0 it is due to separation - fear, control, dominance and misguided and unknowing of who we are, what we exist within - what exists within us each -

I would not work, or be with any, friends or otherwise that abuse energy, magic, and the public for their foolish games of dominance and ill gotten gains - I speak on what is truth and my own life experience - there are entire communities in corruption - and all have rights to speak, live, and move in liberation and safety

I know GOD - I know universal alchemy and evolutionary light programs - I am a leader, teacher, healer - I will call what I will call -

There are those that want to take advantage of every light workers and ones that are speaking truth, call it their own and use it and make money while these people are not aligned and have no clue what alignment it -

They copy, they mimick and have no idea; their chakra's are closed, dense, dark, they have entities attached to their mind, body, spirit, soul - and they are leaders - #truth #Epstein all occurs in our cities, communities, law courts, and policing, movies and any person that can see blatantly it is a white mans world and for children, women to be used as slaves in whatever way they want to make money - be their own world leaders and wealthy -

THE EXPERIMENT for ALL - 1 WEEK CHALLENGE

So imagine - for 1 week - see what the economy and health of humanity if women, stopped and closed out all youtube channel, social platforms, and silenced and did not move but sat in meditation, not moving, not saying a word - and see the economy and world status -

See how your disappearance will affect the all - the white mans / systems want us to be not here, silent, so be it - good luck oh master!

The health of hospitals, homes, nature, see what occurs oh brazen sick men that are so very wounded - see what you world would be like - 1 week - start now women - close it all down - you will be supported to reopen when you feel ready - see if your value, voice, is honoured

And what many 'stars' and of the elite speaking out of the crime, organized crime, and imbalance of what many are now seeing

Anything.... of spirit is talent, creativity, and any of the industry is made of pure authentic aligned talent and that is the alignment with spirit as spirit - anything inspired through the pineal, higher mind is of God, Source, Creator (as validated by Bashar, Lee Carroll, and my channelling's ) and yet those that speak out about the corruption, the deeds played by the wealthy, there is immediate discrimination -

But when an older white man speaks, and has movies about trafficking - there is the richest men in the world backing their message - while the DF speaking of the exact same message is ignored and her platform shadow banned - there is so much discrimination - and forcing of what messages get heard, and by whom, and what messages don't and get suppressed -

What messages and imprints about women have to have 1 DF break all boundaries that any older white male could not have the inner knowing alignment or strength to do, for they have not done yet - to be in pure alignment of God, and Source, and break all boundaries of what is possible - with the exception of the divine story of Water.org, Scott Harrison;

There are few that know, do, align, break, climb, and continue when faced with daily, hourly discrimination, and suppression, even when family and friends work around the clock, to voodoo, break, spell cast you, and spend tens of thousands of dollars to ensure you are nothing, and cannot climb higher then them;

So I ask you dear ones,

Those of you that write for your legacy and write for your children to have a better life, with honesty and truth and do you say what needs to be said and to what form?

Do you stand for your rights, regardless of those trying to break you - so that regardless of the shadow-banning, you know you are supported to do and say what is right and what is right before you and so blatantly corrupt by those that simply make money off keeping you suppressed, sexually seen as porn and that you have nothing to offer that is beyond and above their own mentality can comprehend - when a narcism, misogynist and any elite entitled person that hides behind outdated dogma that is only written from ancient 3 D old perspectives of beliefs that had 0 idea about higher consciousness - stay stuck in 'man is greater than all women' and if that is the case, our world would be lush rather than the greatest imbalanced it has ever been.

* FACTS

* if our current world order, governments, places of health were working it would not be in the state that it is

* if our world order and government were working - homelessness, poverty, sexual binding, bondage, Hollywood - entertainment corruption wouldn't be what is has been, children would not be used as sex toys for the adults that simply choose to live in arrogance and ego and wounding

* if our world was balanced; we would see equal women leaders and be honoured and valued in such

* if our world was balanced, we would see equal pay, equal reverence for women 

* if our world was balanced, we would see fairness and equality for our elders, as we do the average white man

* if our world was balanced we would never ever ever ever abuse children, our bodies, our minds, or our spirit 

So you tell me - the FACTS ARE HERE BEFORE YOU - what will be unveiled in the next 5 years will astound you of what was occurring at your feet - behind closed doors - 

WHO ARE YOU 

ARE YOU AWAKE NOW 

For those of us that fight such gross negligence and discrimination while others sit and tire of our personal hardships, your day is also coming - you too will face what your shadow will want you to learn how oneness and your own inner biases have kept the abuse occurring - 

While those of us fight every day to have our voices heard as equal as directors, actors, that truly do not practice alignment with spirit never had besides religious prayers and if that works for them, great - but the higher and deeper wisdoms that have been presented for literally over 20 yrs by such light workers and we are laughed and scoffed at yet

Mel Gibson receives billonaires supporting them and millions of views while the truth tellers, the whistleblowers, take our stories and our plight, and our lives and make millions from, and our voices are suppressed, and not only are our channels not growing, we have family and communities spending 24/7 gang work to spell cast our lives, plot and plan sickened things to our children and scheming how to make and take money when we do make it - 

So they discriminate hate and impale while we struggle, they are doing everything in their power to suppress us, harm us take us out, place voodoo in every part of our lives, block, and suppress at every level, withholding personal property, monies, and call your ideas theirs, take your content and call it theirs and then want to be there to celebrate and call you their friend when you do make it - is this crazy and insane - while none were there ever helping only calling hate, demons and jealousy and competition to something you had nothing to do with but fought your way out every day - 

Tell me divine feminine - are you ok with this story? 

You are too tired - I get it 

This is what it is like to be a DF leader, teacher, healer - that is pushing through such ugly ugly sick power obsessed unhealed wounded leaders - and what will you do about it - 

Watch what unfolds - 

Organized crime at every level; be it wildfires, underground porn, political and judge leaders of communities and policing all involved in cover-ups and where is the truth and the righteous and the ones that truly know consciousness and understand energy beyond false religions that stifle and suppress the one thing that we are here to explore, express, experience - our creativity and higher knowing of alignment with and as Source, spirit 

I show this discrimination daily - who are you?

What part do you play and what earth do you write?

What truth do you know and never speak of to help another, and bring peace, balance, healing to another - or do you hide behind abuse and what occurs to the innocent to save your peace, but brings many into harm? 

This is not oneness it is selfish arrogance of the unhealed - the soul never forgets, and karma is karma - 

Karma cares not for your title or ranking in a. 3D false community - the soul, the spirit, and life and love is everyting 

Life is sacred and those that stand for such will arise - 

This is my word

Leaders, kinds, queens, there will be corruption of all past deeds brought forth for all to see, know, and those that so feverishly work and spend money and slight of hand to save their image - perhaps could have simply healed - than waste money, years of life, health and mess - karmic fucken mess - and who cleans it - who brings clarity - 

the truth tellers - 

Who do you choose to be

The proof is your life - 

Who are you 

What will you do to help another be seen, heard, and when wisdoms are wisdoms - will accounts be shown to the world in need - or will corruption and forced messages by those that earn money and want the white man to be the only teller of how humanity is and to be seen known? It is utter garbage - 

This world is not balanced

This world is not fair 

This world is not just 

Humanity made it this way 

Beliefs, and perspectives and what will each do is personal free will - there is a mess and it has to be cleaned up 

Will the middle age white man show us the way - 

Eons of time and wars, and sick oceans, and sick air and illuminati has proven the way - 

Go for it - 

Discrimination is how the mess was created and discrimination will not be how it will heal - 

Balance, aligned beings of higher consciousness is the only way these issues will be healed - 

Period.

3D is not 5D 

Heal thy wounds - so they do not become another's and if you are abusing children, another person, our earth, and nature, or wildlife, or animals or your own mind, body, - you need to go within - sex with children is not ok.

Selling humans for sex is not ok

Selling children for sex is not ok

Selling humans for light harvesting and human testing is not ok - 

Perhaps a video on some of this will get out there 

From a true master and being of light that has been here and transcended more abuse that 

Mel could imagine or any other

I AM a divine feminine, and I deserve my voice, my platforms, and equal space

I am truth and I will expose it

And these are community leaders - how many involved in my 1 experience - 50+ various beings, in various levels and businesses -

At what point will 1 innocent woman, light worker, master at that - is heard, valued, yet others with money and dominance are heard - this is blatant and real and occurs every second.

If you want to be seen as a community leader, then be one

Do the inner work to be a great leader

If you want to be seen as a righteous person and leader of the people, then lead your own life and do the inner work

I will not stand down to lesser entitled wounded people that think they are greater because they dominate and control and others have been fooled by their trickery and falseness -

I will call truth and those in whatever position they are in -

Until fear is not our foundation and corruption is not the wound of the innocent and sick torturous human testing and underground sex rings are not a thing -

Ascension is a real thing and real processes for such - our humanity is awakening and there is no religion that can guide you through this and there is no leader that is qualified.

Women are profound and far more than your sex toys and masturbation vision

What will unveil will show all what has been going on - who will heal it?

#5D earth includes women as leaders and we will are in our own story - 

none will write for us

I reclaim all life, light, power taken over years of discrimination and withholding of truth, monies, and my own life -

I would never partner with anyone that brings such hate, imbalance and purposeful discrimination - breaking my life every day to look better, to look like a winner - I would never be your subject nor be with any on any level - all need to go get healed - grow up

How will we heal eons of sexual abuse and dominance suppression for women - not being heard and valued and honoured - tortured by blockages and hurdles that none would ever have to go through to simply survive?

Over means over - I let this go 8 years ago and none have the right to delay and derail my every day life so I stay and be slaved by those that simply are nothing but liars and thieves and light harvesters -

Leave me be.

The past is done, closed over

Those of my past did not expect me to survive and rise again, again - they did the most, forensic accounting on all involved will show the monies spent, intentions, premeditation to ruin someone that merely heals and brings truth -

All voices, all beings, all races, all ages - we are equal -we deserve our place.

And so be it 

This is my word

Joanna

*** To Contact me; [email protected]

*** To Donate use; PayPal link here; paypal.me/JoannaLRoss

#5Dnewearth #oneness #unity #healingtrauma #healinghumanity #healingcorruption #violenceisnotnecessary

#healingdivinefeminine #healingourworld #ascensionbooks #5Dleaders

#consciousness #ascension classes #awakening #healingtrauma #oneness #energyhealing #ascension #youtube #healinghumanity #god #organizedcrime #corruption #mind corruption #Youtube

[ruminativerabbi]

Memorial Day 2022

Memorial Day has undergone several serious changes since I was a boy. For one thing, it had a different name: when I was growing up, the holiday was mostly called Decoration Day. (The idea was that people went to the graves of soldiers who died in the course of our nation’s wars and decorated them with flowers and other kinds of suitable symbols.) And it had a fixed date, too: Decoration Day was May 30 from Civil War times up until 1970 when Congress voted both formally to change the name to Memorial Day and to fix its annual occurrence on the last Monday of May regardless of that day’s actual date.

But the single biggest shift has been the slow move away from seeing the day as a somber day on which to acknowledge the more than 1.3 million Americans who have died in in the service of our country by visiting their graves or by otherwise acknowledging their supreme sacrifice to one mostly celebrated, to extent it is celebrated at all, as a day for giant blow-out sales and as the unofficial first day of summer. Is that fair to say? It feels like that to me: each year the President participates in a somber wreath-laying at the Tomb of the Unknown Soldier in Arlington and the rest of everybody goes to the beach.

Where that strange ambivalence comes from, who can say? To some extent it has to do with the pride earlier generations took in the bravery displayed by the men and women of our Armed Forces in the Spanish-American War, in World Wars I and II, and in Korea, and the confused set of emotions that inheres even today in the legacy of Vietnam and the wars in Iraq and Afghanistan. Nor has the legacy of the Civil War been a simple one to negotiate: to expect the citizens of our Southern states to mourn the loss of those soldiers who died defending the integrity of the Union but not the scores of thousands of Confederate soldiers from their own states who died in their leaders’ vain effort to dismember the Union and to tear it asunder by force—that seems like a battle best not fought at all. Nor is this in any sense not a competition: for years, April 26 was observed across the South as Confederate Memorial Day for years and the practice has never fully died out—Confederate Memorial Day is still a holiday in South Carolina, Mississippi, and Alabama—nor is it rooted in sentiments that have fully and completely died out (to which fact the ongoing kerfuffle over statues memorializing Confederate leaders and soldiers unambiguously testifies).

So we Americans bring a mixed bag of emotions to the table as we arrive at Memorial Day each year. Still, you would think there could be a way to move past the politics and to grieve nationally for the well more than a million young men and women who died in our nation’s service without becoming inextricably tangled up in extraneous details. Yes, you are allowed to think our incursion into Iraq was foolish and ill-conceived. And you are certainly allowed think—as I certainly do—that the soldiers who fought to dismantle the Union during the 1860s were, to say the very least, misguided in their zeal. I have my own complex set of emotions about Vietnam. (I would have more or less definitely been drafted in February of 1972 if Congress hadn’t voted to end the draft at the end of January of that year.) But the challenge of Memorial Day should not be decisively to resolve all these complicated issues, but rather to encourage the citizenry to set them aside and to think instead of the endless thousands of young people whose lives were cut short because of their willingness to take the ultimate risk in the service of their—our—nation. Focusing on the circumstances of their deaths would be, in this specific context, both pointless and counterproductive. Our nation has grown to its position of stature and power in the world because of those who served and serve. And if honoring those whose lives were cut short requires looking past politics to honor virtues like courage, patriotism, selflessness, and virtue, then so be it.

In 1882, the most celebrated and beloved of our national poets was Henry Wadsworth Longfellow. He led a remarkable life too, one I enjoyed reading in detail about in Charles C. Calhoun’s book, Longfellow: A Rediscovered Life, which I came across a few years ago and recommend to all. He spent his life teaching first at Bowdoin College in Maine (where he had himself earlier on gone to school and been classmates with Nathaniel Hawthorne and future president Franklin Pierce) and at Harvard. And he was incredibly productive, producing in the course of his lifetime some sixteen volumes of poetry, countless translations (including the first American translation of Dante), as well as many novels and plays.

At the very end of his life, shortly before his death in March of 1882, Longfellow wrote one of his last poems, “Decoration Day.” Was he was prompted by some preternatural sense that he wouldn’t live until the end of May and so needed to write his poem while he still could? No one can say, but he did write his poem and he finished it too, then sent it into The Atlantic, a magazine he had earlier on helped to found, where it was published in the June issue of that year. More than any other work I know, Longfellow expresses exactly the twin sentiments I was describing above: that sense that people who die in their nation’s service deserve to be honored for their readiness and willingness to serve, and that the political climate that led to the war or to the conflict that led to the battle that led to that person’s death need not be part of the story at all. He ignores all that, not even deigning to nod in that direction. Instead, he addresses the young dead lying in their earthen graves and tells them that their service is complete and their task done, and that they have earned the right to rest in peace.

And so, in honor of Memorial Day this year I would like to offer to you Longfellow’s great poem, “Decoration Day.”

Decoration Day

by

Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

 Sleep, comrades, sleep and rest

On this Field of the Grounded Arms,

Where foes no more molest,

Nor sentry’s shot alarms.

Ye have slept on the ground before,

And started to your feet

At the cannon’s sudden roar,

Or the drum’s redoubling beat.

But in this camp of Death

No sound your slumber breaks;

Here is no fevered breath,

No wound that bleeds and aches.

All is repose and peace,

Untrampled lies the sod;

The shouts of battle cease,

It is the truce of God.

Rest, comrades, rest and sleep!

The thoughts of men shall be

As sentinels to keep

Your rest from danger free.

Your silent tents of green

We deck with fragrant flowers

Yours has the suffering been,

The memory shall be ours.

[madamebaggio]

Notes: Previously...

Still not hot, but getting warmer ;)

***

Chapter 3

Jon felt like shit.

Now, if anyone asked his few friends –especially Tormund – they’d say it wasn’t something new. They enjoyed saying that Jon liked to brood.

It wasn’t true. He had his moments –he’d admit it –but he didn’t make it his life or anything.

But the way he had talked to Sansa earlier… Yeah, he felt like shit.

He had some pretty good excuses to justify himself –what she did had been foolish and could’ve gotten her into a lot of trouble –but it was a lie.

The truth –the embarrassing and shameful truth –was that Jon reacted so badly because of how he felt upon reading that message.

It had been past one, the night had been calm so far and he and the other men were playing cards when his phone chimed, indicating a message had arrived. He opened it, without really paying attention to it, saw it was from Sansa, read the part about helping her. He was wondering if she wanted some kind of furniture done for her apartment, because Lord knew they rarely talked to each other socially, so he couldn’t imagine any other reason for her to contact him.

Then he opened the link.

It was… A sexual bucket list. 30 something items in it.

Jon went back to properly read the message. Yes, it was from Sansa and she was asking his help with it. How did she even know he was good at oral? He was pretty sure he never talked about his sex life with her.

Unbidden and unwanted, an image came to his head: Sansa splayed on his bed, legs spread wide, her fingers clutching his hairs and he licked her…

The image was so strong he had to literally shake his head to get rid of it.

It had to be some kind of sick joke. Sansa would never proposition him like this.

“What have you got there, Snow?” Tormund demanded, when he failed to answer a previous question.

Jon cleared his throat and put his phone away, clearing his throat. “Nothing.”

“Nothing, hn?” Satin arched an eyebrow. “Got a new girl, Snow?”

“Jon?” Turmund snickered. “Swear to God, his pecker’s gonna fall off from disuse.”

As the rest of the night proceeded with no big emergencies, the men started theorizing about Jon’s hypothetical girl, they made jokes and crude suggestions.

He knew he shouldn’t feel offended, there was no girl. They had no idea who was that on the phone, if there really was someone. They all had no idea how ashamed Jon was feeling about his reaction, and most of them would never make jokes like those if they really thought there was someone.

It was just… It was Sansa! Her father had raised him, her brother was his best friend; and said brother would kill him slowly if he ever dreamed that he’d thought –for a fucking second –of Sansa like that.

He needed to talk to her as soon as possible.

However, the closer he got to her apartment, the more his embarrassment was replaced by some misguided anger. How could she send a message like that to anyone? Did she have any idea how some men talked to each other about women? Jon knew some guys from the station that would have made a show of passing that message around.

Sansa was better than that.

In the end he’d been as much of an asshole as most of those guys. He hadn’t meant to fight with Sansa, but he had anyway.

And who the fuck was he to tell her what to do?

Jon put down the hammer he’d picked and never used. Arya liked to tease him saying that wood carving and designing furniture really completed Jon’s lone brooding mountain-man lifestyle. She sometimes asked him if he had adopted a bear yet. Never mind there were no bears –or mountains, as a matter of fact - around there.

Jon liked carving and working with wood, he even sold some of his pieces online. Besides, it was relaxing.

Not today.

He sighed and decided to quit while he was ahead, before he destroyed some project. He had just gone back to the living room of his small cabin when the headlights lit it from the outside.

He walked to the door and opened it in time to see Sansa getting out of her car. To say that he was shocked would be an understatement. He hadn't expected to see her so soon, but this was actually good, because he could apologize now.

She was really serious and stopped even before reaching his porch. “Hey, Jon.” Her voice was small, tentative.

Jon gave her a small smile, trying to reassure her. “Hey, Sansa. Wanna come in? I’ll make us tea.”

She nodded and made her way to him. He held the door open for her. She stopped in the middle of his living room and he watched as she took the place in.

Sansa had grown up in a big house, with every bit of comfort that could be given to a child, and that made Jon wonder how she’d view his place. This cabin was all he had left from his parents and he liked it, but it probably looked too… Bare, for someone like Sansa, who worked with interior design for a living and had always loved pretty things.

“Is this one of yours?” She pointed at the coffee table.

Jon cleared his throat. “Yes. One of my first ones.”

She hummed something, eyes still on the piece. “You should consider selling more of those.”

Was this some kind of compliment? “I like to do them in my own time; no pressure, no demands.”

Sansa just nodded her head softly, looking at the table, but Jon was pretty sure she wasn’t seeing it anymore. “I’ll go get us that tea.” He said, just to break the silence.

She finally turned to him. “I’m not here for tea, Jon.” She sighed. “I just… I came to say sorry.”

“Sorry?” Jon was caught by surprise. “Why would you say sorry to me?” He asked, completely confused. “I should be the one apologizing.”

“Yes, you should and I was planning on making sure you would.” She admitted with a small grin. “But you were worried about me and I guess I shouldn’t get exactly angry about it. Besides, it wasn’t like you were expecting to get a porny text from me.”

If she thought that was porny she had a few things to learn.

Not that he wanted to be the one to teach her.

He had nothing to teach her.

He shouldn’t even think about….

What the fuck was wrong with him?

“You’ve said it yourself, Sansa. It was a joke, I got the text by accident.” He hurried to say, eager to let her off the hook, so he could start forgetting about this.

He had re-read that list. He shouldn’t have, but he couldn’t stop thinking about it. He told himself it was just curiosity.

And it was.

He chanced a look at Sansa and saw that she was biting her lower lip.

Jon knew that face, he knew it very well and it never boded well for him, Robb or basically anyone that wasn’t a sadistic bastard –or Arya.

That face meant she was about to ask something, and Jon knew –from previous experiences –that he wouldn’t be able to say ‘no’. That was how she tricked him and Robb into playing Barbie with her.

When Sansa blinked those blue eyes at people she always got what she wanted.

“I’ve been thinking about something you said earlier.” She started.

“OK…” Jon agreed carefully.

“About how men talk about women they have sex with.” She clarified.

Jon just nodded, not sure where this was going.

“I do know that guys can say… Stuff.” She sighed. “And even lie about this, just because people always believe them.”

Something in her voice made Jon pay even more attention to her. She did know because it had happened to her. “Who said what about you?” He all but demanded.

He hadn’t realized he’d growled until Sansa looked a bit alarmed. “Nobody.” She lied quickly. “That wasn’t my point. What I wanted to say is that –as a guy –you know what guys say.”

Jon let go of the lie –for now –and arched an eyebrow at her logic. “So?”

She bit her lip again, which meant she was getting ready to ask whatever she wanted to ask. The way she was delaying it meant it was something she didn’t think he’d want to do. By the tone of this conversation he was pretty sure he wouldn’t.

“And you work at the fire station, with a lot of other guys…” She continued.

He really didn’t like where this was going. “Sansa…”

“Maybe you could introduce me to one of them.” She finally asked.

“Why?” Jon asked shocked. Sansa only dated those preppy boys and idiotic lawyers, why would she want to… “Is this about the list?” He asked, beyond shocked.

Sansa pressed her lips together and didn’t answer, which was answer enough.

“No! Absolutely no.”

“Jon, just listen to me…” Sansa started.

“I’m not going to hook you up with some guy that I work with just so you can do this stupid list with...”

“It’s not just about the list!” She argued. “I mean… Yeah, sure, it’s a bit about it, but not only that.” She admitted. “It’s just that everybody keeps saying how amazing sex is and I have yet to see it. So maybe I just need something different and completely out of my comfort zone.”

“Wait a second.” Jon was still caught in another part of her speech. “You’ve never… You didn’t…”

Sansa arched an eyebrow and dared him to finish that sentence.

“You dated before.” He knew the answer to that, but still felt like he needed to check it.

“Yes.” She crossed her arms protectively in front of herself. “I’m not a virgin, Jon.” She said defensively.

No, but apparently she’d had seriously crappy sex. Not that he was about to tell her that, because… Well, this was Sansa and he shouldn’t even think about her and sex at the same time.

Like ever.

If he really thought about it, it wasn’t that shocking. He remembered two of her boyfriends: Joffrey Baratheon and Harry Hardying, both were arrogant pricks, that felt like the world belonged to them because they had fancy last names and money. They were the type of men that thought only about themselves, it was logical it’d be the same when it came to sex.

When his silence stretched too long, Sansa started to squirm. “Look, I don’t want anything serious. I just want a guy that it’s going to treat me nicely and… Well…” She made a vague gesture with her hand. “And maybe you know a guy that’d be okay with this.”

“No!” Jon repeated. “I’m not going to pimp you out to one of my coworkers, Sansa. This is crazy.”

Just the idea of something like that left a bad taste in his mouth. There were many men in his station that were good men, that he knew would treat any woman with respect, but he wasn’t going to introduce Sansa to them.

No!

Yes, her idea had its merits. He knew the guys and knew how they talked about the women they went out with, he could tell which one of them he’d never introduce to any woman, because they were pricks.

But not Sansa! Not even to the best of them and he knew many of them would love this idea of hers.

But no!

Sansa rolled her eyes, like he was the crazy one. “Okay, fine.” Her voice was sharp. “I’ll just have to find someone myself then.”

That was even worse!

Sansa went to pass him, so she could leave, and Jon grabbed her arm to stop her. Her eyes snapped to him, widened in her surprise. Jon couldn’t say he wasn’t surprised himself, he never touched Sansa like that.

Thinking about it now… He was sure he hardly ever touched her at all.

He was going to say he was sorry, but then he’d explain to her all the reasons this was a ridiculous idea. Sansa was a smart woman; she’d see he was right. She was sensible, he’d be convincing.

Then they could all forget the last 24 hours had happened at all.

That was what Jon planned on doing, he had the words sorted out in his head; but what actually came out was something completely different.

“Then let me do it.”

#madame baggio #crackship #fanfiction #gifs not mine #chapter #modern au #game of thrones #Sansa Stark #jon snow #sansa x jon #sansa stark x jon snow #jonsa #a special bucket list

[maria-eve-falcon]

the blur and gorillaz issue

ehem

so, I know it's been around for a while and I just reblogged a lot of shit and I was waiting to say something when things were a little more understandable for me, swifties and the 'general public'

no, it's not a matter like the Ginny and Georgia situation

no, it's not a foolish matter to speak up to. even I knew that the Ginny and Georgia thing was shady(even though it was right in a way until you go deep into it) and stupid. it's a matter she should speak up about.

it is a matter of her life

I am dramatizing this but yes, her whole life she has been known as a great song writer. and as a creator myself(not even close to a writer, let alone someone like her), it is humiliating when something you give so much effort on , is actually questioned. no matter how small the piece is , the biggest thing is that it is yours and your own. no matter how bad it is, people like it or not, to make something yourself is already so big, and the things it takes to be that creative to even make a line by yourself is beyond imagination.

so, to get at her stage, she had make sacrifices and there are even bits we have ourselves seen. but through out it all , she had her music, that she was and is always proud of.

and tbf, to say that someone did not do something that they claim to do is misguiding and in some cases defaming.

so, song writing is a huge thing for her and she would never lie about a thing that is this important for her. (goes for credit too)

pure misogyny

Damon is as much of a misogynistic asshole as John Meyer.

now you guys will say, john was joking blah blah blah but that is a different discussion. but Damon was not joking and I repeat, he CLEARLY was not joking.

first of all, he was like co-writing is not a thing. which by the way is not true. even if you contributed a line or even an idea, you are worth of being credited for it. so that is bullshit .

second of all, when he did praise Billy, he mentioned her brother, finesse, which is not really nice of him because finesse maybe a songwriter and producer at times, Billy herself is a solo artist to her own right. and this made him look like a misogynistic asshole who needs men behind women to be proud of them or acknowledge their talent or capability.

which was also John Meyer in hindsight

so Taylor Alison swift has every right to call Damon Albarn from blur and Gorillaz out

#my 2 scents #damon albarn #blur and gorillaz #taylor swift

[theravennest]

I hard binged Sell Your Haunted House and finished up today.

**Spoilers for the entire drama.**

I absolutely ADORED this drama! My god.

The characters were all so rich. Worldbuilding was on point. The storyline felt meaningful and well paced. The emotional arcs each character went through landed pitch perfect for me.

This drama has such incredibly fully realized female characters. Regardless of being good or bad, main or secondary characters...they had rich internal lives, complex emotional relationships with others, and consistent motivations paired with realistic character arcs. For this drama, the women definitely stand out the most for me. Ji Ah is my beloved tragic exorcist queen, Secretary Joo was so incredibly cool and flawed, the poignant story with the Restaurant Ahjumma, Ji Ah’s ghost momma and her deep love for her sister and daughter, In Beom’s grandmother who was a mix of misguided and affectionate, the one-off female characters from the ghost stories/cases...nearly every one of the female characters were super interesting to me.

The heartbreaking tragedy of Ji Ah’s character learning that she was the one who trapped her mother’s spirit with her grief and obsession over her death, then re-wrote her memories. Oof!

That’s not to say that I don’t love a lot of the male characters. I adore the bumbling duo of In Beom and his best friend being idiot conmen who stumble into the ghost world and get swept off into an otherworldly adventure. That fool of a gangster Tae Jin who struggled so much with finding the goodness within him and found a family and home by the end. I even liked the Team Leader and detective guys. (Lowkey did anybody else get an OT3 poly-triad vibe with them and Secretary Joo? lmao)

Oh, In Beom and his uncle! I loved the arc of In Beom coming to terms with the fact that his uncle was culpable in so many deaths that just cascaded out and harmed even Ji Ah. Like, yes the uncle did what he did to try and secure a safe home for his mom and nephew but his selfishness for his own family not only killed people, it doomed his nephew and Ji Ah to 20 years of torment and pain. While ultimately Do Hak Sung is primarily responsible for what happened, In Beom’s uncle did not have clean hands in it.

I really respected the drama for not shirking his part of the responsibility. I really rated that part of In Beom’s arc was coming to grips with how flawed both his family members were yet still finding it in himself to love them still. It was a nice foil for him coming to grips with his own flaws as a conman and finding ways to change for the better in a way that his grandmother and uncle never quite got the chance to before they were gone.

Speaking of consequences of the uncle’s actions...the Egg Ghost! That shit was so unsettling and creepy every single time it showed up on screen. The facelessness of the person possessed by it, and that rattling noise it made. No way, brother, get that shit away from me.

The scene where the Egg Ghost possesses In Beom and Ji Ah is put in the same position as her mother, sacrifice either someone she loves or herself or doom the world to untold amount of deaths at the hands of the Egg Ghost. *chef’s kiss* Loved it! Ji Ah and In Beom using their own individual skills to solve the conundrum of how to exorcise the Egg Ghost without killing the Medium was perfect. I loved their partnership so much.

I was really impressed with the deep intimacy and platonic love that was built between the two leads without any overt romance at all but only a few hints of a crush, mostly from In Beom to Ji Ah.

Like, I am obsessed with the idea of Ji Ah and In Beom either being completely platonic or perhaps hetero-romantic asexual life partners where In Beom stays a virgin so that he can be Ji Ah’s primary Medium forever.

Speaking of...the role and trope reversal were so well done. Instead of it coming off as a gimmick, it felt natural and realistic to how people irl don’t fit in the boxes so often seen in TV or movies. Sometimes when stories try to do role-reversal between female character tropes and male character tropes they can come off a bit clunky. Even worse, sometimes either they eventually revert back to traditional gender essentialist roles or they inadvertently reinforce harmful stereotypes. 

But Sell Your Haunted House avoided all of that by basing the “role reversals” firmly in character. Due to the circumstances of their lives, upbringings, families, and even their specific traumas, these two people grew to be who they are. Ji Ah became a more assured and intense woman with incredible fighting ability and chock full of heartbreaking tragedy. Meanwhile In Beom became a softer and more warm man with a charming damsel vibe who needs to be rescued often because of his own foolish nature.

If you are interested in a drama about an exploration of trauma and grief over a backdrop of ghost stories, horror, and mystery then I definitely recommend this one.

PS. Shoutout to this drama for not doing the supernatural story trope I hate with every fiber of my being where the people with magical abilities end the story with “becoming normal or human” and losing their powers permanently. This show has both the female lead and the male lead strutting off to a new haunting, fully powered up like the badass spirit banishing duo they should be!

#sell your haunted house #daebak real estate #kdrama #jang na ra #jang nara #jung yong hwa #meta

[adapembroke]

Cupid and Psyche: An Allegory for Moon People

The ancient Greeks and Romans told a story about a woman named Psyche who was so beautiful, she was compared to Venus. 

Venus was angry at the comparison and punished the land. A seer was consulted and decreed that Psyche must to marry a monster to assuage the wrath of the goddess. Her family marched Psyche to the wilderness where she was left to die, but she was carried by the wind to a beautiful house. 

Later that night, in her dark bedroom, Psyche was visited by an unknown lover who left by dawn. During all of these visits, Psyche was never allowed to see her lover or know his identity. 

For many nights these visits continued until Psyche’s sisters, wracked by worry (and, no doubt, curiosity) were allowed to visit Psyche at her new home. Jealous of her new life, her sisters chided her for her foolishness, suggested that Psyche’s lover must be a monster. Why else would he refuse to be seen in the light?

In response to her sister’s cajoling, Psyche brought a lamp and a knife (in case her lover really was a monster) to her bedroom and lit it when her lover was asleep. Instead of a monster, she found a beautiful man with wings, the god Cupid, Venus’s son. 

In her shock, she spilled some of the oil, injuring Cupid, and Cupid flew out the window leaving Psyche alone. 

Thus began her grief and trials. She wandered the earth looking for Cupid, helping the gods and receiving no help in return, until she appealed to Venus directly for help. Venus punished her for seducing her son with a series of impossible tasks, hiding from Psyche the fact that Cupid was healing in Venus’s own house. 

With help, Psyche completes all of Venus’s tasks but the last, a descent to the underworld for beauty from Proserpina. Curious, Psyche looks in the box just as she is about to finish her task and is sent into a magical sleep. 

Fortunately, Cupid has healed by then and saves her from her sleep, carrying her to realm of the gods, where he begs Jupiter to allow her to marry him. Jupiter agrees in exchange for Cupid’s help seducing women, and he gives her ambrosia to drink, transforming her into a goddess. 

The gods attend the wedding of Cupid and Psyche, and they live happily ever after. 

The Trials of the Moon-Ruled

The story of Cupid and Psyche is often told as an allegory—the union of the soul with God, the temptations of the flesh, the reward of committed love. 

As an astrologer, I see another story in it: the trials of being a person who is ruled by the moon in a world ruled by the sun.

In the story, Psyche is swept along from one thing to the next in a passive way. This can be interpreted through a feminist lens as a statement about the proper role of women in the patriarchy, but it is also the way lunar people prefer to go through life. It is solar people who prefer to go through life with a plan, and lunar people are taught that their way of being in the world, responding to their surroundings instead of forcefully creating events, is misguided or irresponsible. 

Initially, Psyche’s approach works for her. She is carried into the arms of a man who loves her. Like lunar people, she listens to her intuition, which tells her that her circumstances are lovely, even if she isn’t able to see everything that is happening to her clearly. The moon is the luminary of the night. Moonlight does not reveal the world with the precision of sunlight, but its dimness allows us to hear more clearly the voice of intuition and the heart.

Things go badly for Psyche when her sisters insist that she bring a light into her bedchamber, revealing the identity of her lover in a blinding, solar way.

Psyche’s trials are the trials of a lunar person who is forced onto an achievement-oriented track in life. She is thrust into the role of the solar heroine and despairs every step of the way. It is her lunar drive to form relationships that saves her. At every challenge, she is met by an ally with special knowledge who gives her what she needs to succeed. 

Cupid and Psyche: A How-To Guide for Lunar People

Ultimately, the myth of Cupid and Psyche can be read as an instruction manual for lunar people:

1. Trust your intuition. Even if you don’t have all the cold, hard facts, your intuitive sense of people and situations is designed to help you navigate situations where you don’t know everything.

2. Resist advice that tells you to use rationality in a situation you feel requires mystery, intuition, and emotional finesse to navigate.

3. Life doesn’t have to be a competition. It’s okay to just enjoy life and not orient your life around collecting accomplishments.

4. Look for allies. You don’t need to be the conquering hero, achieving everything by yourself. Your ability to form relationships with people who have knowledge and strengths you do not is wisdom, not weakness.

How about you? Does the myth of Cupid and Psyche resonate for you? I would love to hear about your experience on Instagram.

Learn more about the moon in astrology…

#astrological moon #archetypal astrology #mythology

[roboticonography]

Fic Preview: Except Perhaps in Spring

Dear @formerlyir,

I’m your Secret Santa! I’ve so enjoyed getting to know you in 2020, and I look forward to many more chats and Snippets Mondays. I guess now you know why I was so cagey with you about what I was working on for the exchange! ;)

It’s been a lot of fun working on a story just for you, but December has been an eventful month for me, and in the end it got away from me a little. So here’s a taste of your story, “Except Perhaps in Spring.” I hope you have as much fun reading it as I’ve had writing it.

Happy New Year!

=======

As she would maintain for many years afterwards, Peggy hadn’t wanted to go to the pub in the first place.

It wasn’t that she disapproved of such amusements. She liked a stiff drink as much as the next field agent (though not, perhaps, as much as Colonel Phillips, who kept a bottle of bourbon at the back of his middle desk drawer for “medicinal purposes”).

And she appreciated that the boys from the 107th invited her along on their madcap outings—not out of a misguided sense of chivalry, or some crack-brained scheme to charm her out of her knickers, but because they genuinely enjoyed her company.

Along with their fearless leader, the three biggest troublemakers of the group were in London for one night to accept an award on behalf of the 107th. Dugan, Barnes, and Morita had been invited to accompany Steve to the award ceremony, but not to any of the PR opportunities that followed. While Steve spent his afternoon posing for pictures with various elected officials, his boys would spend theirs loitering around the SSR’s London headquarters, trying to convince Peggy to come out on the town with them that night.

Peggy was in no mood.

It had been raining in sheets all day, and her umbrella had already given out on the walk in. The cavernous underground war room was freezing: everyone was wearing scarves and gloves at their stations. 

Peggy’s office—little more than an alcove with a door, really—had sprung a leak during the night, which meant she’d arrived that morning to find a stack of finished paperwork completely drenched. Aside from shoving her desk against the wall and putting a rubbish bin under the steady drip, there wasn’t much to be done.

Thanks to some especially severe belt-tightening, there was no comfort to be had even in a hot drink: the coffee was dismal sludge, the tea in the communal bucket had been stewed to within an inch of its life, and there was, naturally, no milk or sugar to be found anywhere on the premises.

Peggy had spent most of her day hunched over her typewriter, re-typing a twelve-page report that Colonel Phillips would undoubtedly skim for two seconds before it would disappear into the SSR’s vast storehouse of files, never to be seen again.

So when the invitations started, Peggy’s polite-but-firm no, thank you was already locked and loaded, and her aim was true.

She hadn’t counted on the boys being either bored or bold enough to try their luck again as a trio, wedging themselves into her office three abreast, with Dugan as the filling in the sandwich.

“I said no, gentlemen.”

“Yeah, I’ve heard this song before,” said Dugan, grinning. 

“Me too,” chimed in Barnes. “‘Her lips said no, but her eyes said—’”

“On your bike,” said Peggy curtly.

“She’ll change her tune when we tell her who’s coming,” said Dugan. “Won’t she, boys?”

His companions gave solemn nods.

“Yep,” said Morita, drawing the word out. “She’ll come around pretty quick when she hears that we convinced him.”

Peggy glared at each of them in turn. 

“All right,” she said at last. “Who is it?”

“Me, of course,” said Howard, shoving his way in between Morita and Dugan. “See? I told you she’d be excited.”

“Thrilled,” Peggy deadpanned.

“I think she thought we meant someone else,” said Barnes.

“Someone taller,” Dugan agreed.

Howard feigned indignance. “Taller, maybe, but I can guarantee I’m a better dancer. Did you know there’s a leak in your ceiling?” he added helpfully.

“Right. All of you, out.”

The unholy barbershop quartet reluctantly took its leave.

It wasn’t the first time they’d implied that there was something between her and Steve. She didn’t appreciate them doing it in earshot of her office colleagues, though she was certain there must be talk already: Steve’s last visit to HQ had ended in a legendary bust-up between them, after she’d interrupted him with Private Lorraine, mid-embrace.

She wasn’t only angry that he’d kissed someone else. She was angry that he’d kissed a woman he barely knew, after he’d made himself out to be a different sort of man. She’d felt foolish for believing him, for liking him, when he’d told her he was waiting for the right partner.

She was angry that he’d had the nerve, afterwards, to try and brush it aside, pretending it hadn’t meant anything. If a kiss like that didn’t mean anything, how many others had there been? And how many more would there be while they were apart?

(And, though she’d never admit it, she was angry that Steve appeared to be a decent kisser.)

Then, to add insult to injury, he’d brought up Howard’s one-sided flirting—as though she had any control over the invitations and innuendo men chose to pitch at her day after day, as casually and aimlessly as they dropped their litter in the street.

If that was all it took to drive Steve into the arms of another woman, then perhaps it was best that they remained separated by the English Channel for the time being.

*

Peggy applied herself to her work, ignoring any further overtures. As much as she appreciated the inclusion, she didn’t want to spend her evening sitting in a smoky pub, drinking cheap beer and bellowing herself hoarse. She wanted a warm bath and a warm bed. There was only one person she was interested in inviting to join her in either, and even if she hadn’t still been a bit cross with him, the chance of her seeing him at all on this brief visit grew more remote with every hour that passed. His itinerary included supper with Senator Brandt at his hotel, and was liable to be a late night—the senator’s aide had also arranged for a room for Steve at the hotel, presumably to avoid cutting their evening short.

She was grateful Steve would have a chance to get a decent meal and a good night’s sleep while he was in London, even if it meant she wouldn’t get to see his preposterously good-looking face in person. She knew from the dispatches that he was doing gruelling work, and that he often passed up opportunities for respite so that other men could take leave.

By six, it seemed as though the boys from the 107th had all cleared off at last, along with the rest of the office. Peggy slipped into the women’s locker room to change clothes. Transit to and from home in uniform for women was allowed, but not precisely encouraged—and the uniform had a way of making a person more approachable, which was the very last thing Peggy wanted just now. 

She quickly tidied her hair, and reapplied her lipstick and a small dab of eau de toilette, before donning her trusty navy shirtwaist dress. It was slightly threadbare at the cuffs and collar, but still serviceable, and a decent fit, even if it wasn’t as stylish as one might wish for. Peggy knew that plain outfits were a small sacrifice for such a worthy cause—but she still longed for the day when she could have a new dress every season, with features and embellishments, in colours so rich her mouth watered at the thought.

Daydreams of pleated skirts and pockets carried her all the way back to her desk, where she collected her hat and gloves, and tried to revive her sad umbrella. If her office ceiling was any indication, it was still pouring outside, but she knew better than to risk bad luck opening the thing indoors.

Just as she’d started to don her Mackintosh, she heard Barnes’s customary “shave-and-a-haircut” knock on the open door behind her.

She didn’t bother turning around. “For the last time, sod off!” She didn’t often use that kind of language in a professional setting, but if they weren’t going to accept a polite refusal, then—

“Yes, ma’am,” said a familiar voice.

She spun on her heel.

Steve was leaning against the door frame, hands in his pockets. His dress uniform jacket was tucked under his arm, his sleeves rolled up to the elbow. His tie had come loose, his collar unbuttoned, and his hair was mussed, tumbling boyishly over his brow. 

He looked, in short, half-undone and entirely ravishing.

All of the sensible reasons she had for keeping her distance suddenly seemed small and remote in comparison.

“Steve,” she said, unnecessarily. “Hello.”

“Hi.” The warm smile he gave her suggested that he hadn’t taken her dismissal personally, at least.

Peggy had imagined this exact scenario an embarrassing number of times: the two of them, in the office after hours, all alone. The fantasies ranged from fairly chaste (teasing, light flirting, an innocent kiss or two) to positively filthy (Steve’s hands roaming her body, his mouth open and demanding against hers).

Looking at him now, her preference was decidedly for the latter option.

Oblivious to the turn her thoughts had taken, Steve asked, “Rough day?”

“Not really, not—” Not anymore, she wanted to say, but clamped her mouth shut just in time. “I didn’t know you were coming in.”

“I’m not here—not officially. I was just gonna leave this on your desk.” 

He jiggled a small brown paper packet at her. It took her a moment to recognize it as the portion of sugar from a ration box.

“How on earth did you manage to hang onto that?”

“We’re still getting it in the K-rats. And I like to save mine for a rainy day.”

“It certainly is that,” she conceded, glancing up at the ceiling. “Are you sure you won’t miss it?”

A different sort of man, a smooth operator, would have taken the opportunity to feed her a line: not as much as I’ll miss you, or, how about you just owe me something sweet? But Steve just shrugged, and tucked the packet gently under the corner of her desk blotter.

Peggy was both touched and exasperated.

She knew that in combat, even with no experience, he could be confident, creative, and quick-thinking. He was almost certainly capable of applying that approach in other situations too. But he hadn’t—at least, not with her.

She wanted one romantic overture from him. Just one. A single, unmistakable gesture, something that couldn’t possibly be attributed to kindness or friendship or sheer accident. 

She felt she deserved at least that.

Still, he’d come halfway across town, to bring her less than an ounce of sugar that he’d probably gone hungry to save. It wasn’t a passionate kiss, but it counted for something.

And so she smiled, and thanked him, adding, “I’m glad I was here to accept it in person.”

“Me too.”

“I thought you had supper with the senator and his cronies.”

“I told him I had an early start tomorrow. I think he got enough of my time.” His tone made it plain that he would rather have spent his day getting shot at by HYDRA. “I told the guys they ought to ask you to come out with us tonight. I’m sorry they bothered you.”

“No, it’s fine—I mean, yes, they did, but—” Being half-in and half-out of her coat meant that instead of breezily waving his apology aside, she wound up flapping her sleeve at him, ineffectually.

Obligingly, Steve stepped closer, and held her coat up by the collar.

“Oh,” said Peggy, letting him slip the coat over her shoulders. “Thank you.”

It was a simple gesture, one any kind person would make, and Steve was nothing if not kind. There was absolutely no reason for her heart to be racing, she told herself sternly.

His hand still held her collar; she turned, drawing the circle of his arm around her shoulders, as though they were about to dance.

Up close, she could see the faint dusting of freckles across his nose, the speck of a mole on his cheek. Details that the artists who depicted Captain America always seemed to miss, slight imperfections that belonged only to Steve Rogers. She was strangely tempted to brush her fingertips over them, to prove that they were real, that he was real. 

His eyes were wide, his gaze clear blue and bottomless, and she suddenly felt in danger of drowning.

A hard pellet of water hit her cheek, making her jump.

“Don’t tell me it’s raining in here, too,” said Steve, glancing up at the ceiling with his hand outstretched.

“It’s London in March,” she observed, stepping out of the line of fire. “It’s raining everywhere.” She emphasized the point by buttoning her coat and hooking her umbrella over her arm.

“Can I walk you to the train?” His look was hopeful. 

“Actually,” she said, against her better judgement, “I think I will come for a drink, after all.”

Steve beamed. “Swell.”

(TO BE CONTINUED...)

#steggysecretsanta #steggy #robofic #formerlyir

[wokestonecraft]

so I had a free afternoon and decided to watch the “how terfs misunderstand the handmaid’s tale’ video, and I have couple of thoughts about it. 

The primary argument hinges on the idea that terfs claim that TiMs would be the wives, and that terfs don’t recognize the wives as being oppressed as women, and equate them as oppressors

Now, I’m not saying that some self identified “terfs” haven’t made those arguments, but it’s not one I’ve seen before on radblr or other radfem spaces I personally frequent, and really goes against what radfem analyses. Most radfems take the position that transwom*n would be executed as gender traitors in Gilead, along with gay men and women, but some trans wom*n would likely abandon the trappings of femininity and simply go back to being gender conforming men, and transm*n would be treated like any other women, stripped of rights and consigned to second class citizens

He also justifies any threats of violence against radfems by tras, as coming from a place of understandable anger, but then says that it only furthers the terf cause since terfs can then use it as justification for their opposition of the transgender movement. But still, he places radical feminists in a place of power over TRAs, which doesn’t seem to be the case, considering the rapid speed at which sex based protections for women are being overturned in favor of gender based ones. 

There was a lot of condescension towards radical feminists in this video, as we are dismissed as only focusing on the role of reproduction in women’s oppression, and ignoring any other factors like race, class, and sexuality, and see women as the only victims. Which raises my eyebrows, since radical feminism has a long history of overlapping with movements for the rights of people of color and for gay men and women, along with acknowledging class issues.(not that there aren’t problems with racism and classism, but it is generally acknowledged that liberation for women means ALL women, not just one class or race.)

There were the same arguments that terfs idolize women’s biological capabilities and ignore women who are infertile, intersex, or have any problems with their bodies, and obsess over our ovaries and uteruses. Again, I know that there are indeed radfems and other feminists who do focus their spirituality around ideas of the female body and creation, but this is not by any means universal from radfems, and it usually comes from a desire to act against all the shame and senses of inferiority women face around their bodies pushed on them by patriarchal religions. I’d note that the poem he cites about a woman who writes about bleeding on her period as a spiritual experience, references the oppression of women by the Catholic Church, where women are banned from the priesthood, and have long been marginalized as second to men, temptresses and “dirty,” especially when sexually active. Maybe radfems celebrate the female body, in all it’s forms, because so many of us were taught for so long that our bodies were less-than, and impure. And I also think its a misreading of what radfems aim for. We are women because we are female, but being women doesn’t define our personalities, our strengths, our limitations, or anything like that, and in an ideal world, a person’s sex wouldn’t matter in how they are raised or treated by society. 

He also says that transwom*n have fought for the rights of all women, and cites Martha P. Johnson????? A self identified gay man who did drag, and was involved in LGBT activism??? Not exactly a “feminist” icon, if a cool person all around. The evidence for transwom*n fighting for the rights of “all” women remains sparse on the ground, while there are plenty of feminists from all races, countries, classes, and sexualities who have made strides on behalf of all women, from Audre Lorde to Nawal el Saadawi, Mary L. Bonauto and, Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie. 

He ultimately concludes that tras and radfems are on the same side against the patriarchy, and we should work together to defeat it. I note that it is radfems who must capitulate to the other side, that we are the foolish misguided ones who must give our movement over to “transwom*en of color” who have done so much for us. Already, the role of lesbians have slowly been erased from the history of gay rights, and now we are seeing women pushed out of feminism itself. 

#also saying Margaret Atwood supports trans rights isn't a gotcha #we aren't a cult #we can agree and disagree on multiple issues #But WoLF needs to stop working with the right #its counterprodcutive #dear radblr #radblr #radfems #radfems please interact #radfems please touch #radical feminism

[cookiem1996]

The Scottish Stranger

AN: Hey everyone! So I guess I have a weakness for the Zowena ship. I’m a simp for these women and they deserve happiness! This fic takes place right after the events of Part 4 of Sabrina and will have some flashbacks. This story is a ‘what if Rowena and Zelda met back at the Academy as teens’ scenario and this will have more chapters! As for where it leaves off for SPN in the present, let’s say this takes place right after Rowena had her second off screen death by Lucifer once again. Also, a trigger warning: there may be some uncomfortable pedophilia (from the high priest of the past) and in the future, some mention of child/sexual abuse. Hope you guys enjoy and let me know if you want more Zowena content!

Chapter One: Macleod

“Why do you stay in prison when the door is so wide open?”- Rumi

Lost.

Zelda Phiona Spellman (Blackwood to some) truly was lost without her seventeen year old niece.

She was also lost without that beautiful cocoa skinned woman: Mambo Marie Lafleur.

The centuries-old witch still could not believe she had been lied to.

‘Baron Samedi? How was this possible?’

Zelda found herself in this hole again, this deep cavernous hole and the walls were closing in on her. She recalled the Eldritch Terror who attacked her mind: the Darkness. Oh, how it knew all her hidden fears.

Once again, Zelda is under attack. She’s lost everything-well almost. She still had her sister to think about and her marriage. She needed to be there for her little sister just as Hilda has been there for Zelda.

Yet, here Zelda sat feeling so alone. She stares up at the dim ceiling in her office as she leaned back in her leather chair. Zelda could not help the waterworks that continued to build up and irritate her eyes.

She wondered if she could summon the loa, hoping she/he would present her with comfort.

Foolish thought. A loa’s job is never done.

Sabrina, she would be forever missed. She was a huge part of the family and it wasn’t the same without her.

Zelda laughed to herself thinking: ‘Perhaps I’ll have less headaches.’

Honestly, those headaches were worth it. Now, it was empty in the mortuary- in the Academy even.

Sabrina always stuck out like a sore thumb at the Academy ever since her first day; it kept things interesting.

That thought brought the centuries-old witch back to the day when there was a frumpy-looking small young girl at the doorstep of the Academy. This was back when Zelda herself attended as a student. Not many could forget that day; this girl stuck out as well, but just like Sabrina, as people got used to the unique witch, she disappeared...

Academy of Unseen Arts-Way Back when

Zelda has to definitely be the most popular witch the Academy has housed-just at sixteen! Sure, there was Constance, Mallory, and Faustus, but Zelda, she reeked elegance; a lot of the students wanted to be her.

Her beautiful waves were this perfect golden red, her eyes a sea blue, and a powerful jaw. Her popularity partially stemmed from her bother Edward Spellman being in the run for Top Boy.

Nonetheless, she was made for power.

Rain poured outside of the Academy, nullifying outdoor activities and kept the students inside for the night. Torrents of raindrops splattered against the windows, illuminated by the flashes of lightning. No one in Greendale was going anywhere during this storm.

Zelda sits by the window not fearing of the trumpets of thunder that seem to almost vibrate against the glass.

Despite what most think popularity entails, Zelda is probably the most studious person one could ever know. Her dreams of becoming a professor in this school (eventually high priestess should the Dark Lord permit it) resonated in her mind as she works.

Not one soul in the Academy was prepared when the large doors received a meek knock.

Zelda tore her attention from her work and arched a light brow. She noticed even the others were surprised.

Professor Brinkley, the current herbology teacher answered the door with a flourish.

There, soaking from pellets of rainwater was a small girl. Her head was covered by a dark hood, although peeking from it were curls of red. Emerald, cat-shaped eyes wandered up to the haggard herbology teacher.

“May I assist you, young lady?” The teacher questioned in a hushed tone.

The girl held on to her cape, shivering.

“P-p-please,” came her soft response in a Scottish brogue, “I am in need of shelter.”

Professor Brinkley raises his brow. He couldn’t help but pity the young girl. She was an outsider, yes, but he could tell she was indeed like them, a witch.

“Come then...”, he implores her. “Step inside and we shall get you warm. Any child of the night deserves warmth and comfort.”

Zelda leans over from her perch to get a better look. Her lips parted in surprise as the smaller girl steps in. The stranger pulls her hood back revealing more of her mass of red locks.

The girl was pale, cheeks lightly dabbed with freckles here and there. Her lips were small, but adorable with how they were shaped into this pout.

Zelda found this girl enchanting. Her studies were tucked in the back of her mind as she watched the Scottish stranger. She barely focused on all the whispers and murmurs around her. Her blue eyes focused on the timid movements the stranger made.

“Where did she come from?”, Constance pipes up. She approaches the girl cocking her head to the side. “Hey, what’s your name?”

With that, everyone else in the main room crowded around the girl, overwhelming her. The girl stepped back slightly, but was practically rooted to her spot. They all hounded her with questions.

Zelda frowned as she slid off her seat. She cleared her throat earning stares from the crowd.

Even as a sixteen year old, she held the air of a refined older woman.

“Enough.”, she starts in a stern tone. “You’re frightening her. Give her space.”

The crowd dispersed then. They watched Zelda carefully as she made her way to the girl. The girl glances up at Zelda in surprise. The way Zelda towered over her didn’t feel in the slightest intimidating.

“I’m sorry about them. As curious as we all are, it is no excuse to make you feel overwhelmed.”, Zelda spoke earnestly to the girl.

Professor Brinkley shut the heavy doors after inspecting what the storm brought outside. The roads were flooded. Any longer and that poor witch would have rowed here on a boat. He realized how Zelda weeded through the crowd like it was nothing.

Before Zelda could say anymore, the teacher places a hand on her shoulder.

“Now, now, Sister Zelda. We should let the girl settle in, shall we? It is clear to us she isn’t a part of this coven, but she must be a child of night brought to us from the Dark Lord. He had brought her into the right place. I’ll show you to the washroom to get cleaned up and into clean clothing. You must be cold.”

Professor Brinkley leads the small girl ahead to the foot of the stairs. Zelda noticed how the girl observes the statue of Baphomet with curiosity and then a twinge of fear. The girl quickly reels her gaze away as she starts to ascend the staircase.

‘If she were truly a child of night,’ Zelda thinks. ‘Why does she cower at the idol of the Dark Lord? Perhaps, she’s been misguided. Professor Brinkley senses she’s a witch. When I looked upon her, she...I could sense a power emanating from her.’

“Hey sister? Sister?”

Zelda’s thoughts are interrupted by her older brother.

“I asked if she said anything to you.” Edward repeated to her. “Are you well?”

Zelda snaps out of her daze as she nods.

“I am.”

Edward inspects his younger sister.

“Well, did she say anything to you?”, he asks.

Zelda shakes her head and gathers her books.

“Whoever she is, there’s something different about her.”

She goes to move forward, but her brother pulls her back gently to stop her.

“In what way?” He questions-more to himself than her.

Zelda shrugs. “I do not know, but I intend to find out.”

Dinner Time

The dining hall is silent save for the cymbals of thunder clashing with the lightning outside. The room is dim with candlelight, but one could see the exchanged glances of curiosity between the students. They were all thinking about the same thing: the girl.

Father Mephisto ate his meal calmly. He knew everyone still wondered about the red-haired teenaged stranger. He broke the silence with his bold voice,

“Where is the girl, Sister Irene?”

Sister Irene, secretary and disciple of the Church of Night, sets her soup spoon down and pats her lips with a napkin.

“She is getting ready. The warm water for her bath took its time. This storm has not helped with the plumbing.”

Father Mephisto scoffs softly as he bores his dark stare toward the bigger-framed woman.

“We do have spells for that, do we not?”, he inquires.

Sister Irene bows her head. “Yes, your Excellency. We didn’t want to frighten the girl.”

“Frighten her?” The high priest’s voice raises.

He laughs boorishly. “She’s a child of night, is she not?”

Father Mephisto turns his gaze over to Professor Brinkley. “Isn’t that right, Brother Brinkley?”

The wiry professor gulps and nods “A lost one.” He replies softly “Her name is not in the book.”

There was a collective sound of silverware dropping on porcelain plates. Zelda’s silverware, however, remained in her clutch. Her eyes widen in shock.

‘I was right. Not a true child of night.’, she thinks.

Father Mephisto, like Zelda, stayed still in his composure.

“She told you her name?”, he asks.

Professor Brinkley nods. His eyes barely meet with his superior.

“She did. I reached out with the other covens astrally about their books. No pages have her name in blood.”

Zelda had hoped this didn’t mean she would be tossed back into the rain. This poor girl seemed lost for sure. She was also eager to know her name. A name to that beautiful face...

“Well, wherever she comes from, she may have been misled. A girl born with powers is indeed a special witch. Of course, we are all born to advance our natural talents by our Dark Lord, but there are some who are granted these greater abilities-ones we do not understand. Nevertheless, if she makes her stay here more permanent, she will need to pledge her loyalty to the Dark Lord. He may grant her more than she ever dreamed of.”, Father Mephisto concludes.

Zelda’s held breath releases into relief. A witch born away from the Path of Night? How was that possible? The witches she’s known all her life possessed smaller abilities, but the true source would always come from the Dark Lord. Those who did not sign lived their lives as a hermit with simple parlor tricks at their behest. This girl has to be special.

Zelda could feel the power brimming in those emerald green eyes-a power unlike anything she’s felt. Her attention then feel to the girl who was just now making her presence known in the dining room.

Zelda’s throat went dry as she observed the stranger. Even cleaned up, she still held this grace-this mystery.

The girl’s red curls were tamed, her face touched with light makeup. The nurses fashioned her into this deep green velvet gown with a laced white collar. This dress brought out her sparkling eyes for sure, Zelda couldn’t even look away. Never has Zelda, in all her youth, been stupefied by a girl. Sure, she’s already had her sexual awakening around the on and off escapades with Faustus Blackwood, but it seemed she was having another sort of awakening. This was her first girl crush.

Father Mephisto stood up and took a look at the stranger. His dark eyes roamed up and down taking in the sixteen year old Scottish girl with carnality.

It disgusted Zelda how he unapologetically would size up the young girls in the Academy. She knew the man craved the flesh of the maiden. His wife, having been aged lost his interest. He is under this spell now-the Scottish girl his new source.

“Welcome.” Father Mephisto greets. “I am Father Mephisto, head of the Academy you stand in and high priest of the Church of Night.”

Father Mephisto sits back down, dark eyes never leaving the stranger. He lifts his hand, crooking his finger in a ‘come hither’ motion.

“Come closer, child. Let’s get a better look at you.”

There was an uncomfortable silence in the room. Watchful eyes followed the ginger girl as she slowly approaches the high priest.

Zelda’s lips curl in disgust as the high priest gently touches the girl’s arms, long fingernails dragging along the fabric of her sleeves. Zelda could feel the discomfort from the girl. The girl’s green eyes wandered away and her breathing hitched.

The high priest smirks and tilts his head. He reaches up and turns her cheek.

“There’s no need to fear me.” He chuckles. “Now tell me, what is your name?”

The girl visibly gulps and takes a steady breath.

“Rowena Macleod.”, she answers like the coo of a dove.

‘Rowena. What a beautiful name.’ Zelda ponders dreamily, marveling at the name. She wanted to get to know her more.

“What a pretty name.” Father Mephisto comments.“Scottish. What are you doing here do far from home?”

Rowena’s gaze drops to the ground. It’s as is the question troubles her.

“I had to get away.”, she speaks again. “I want to learn more about my abilities.”

A lost witch for sure. Zelda was more than willing to show her the way.

“Away from your family?” The priest presses on. “Did they shelter your abilities?”

Rowena messed with her fingernails and chewed on her inner lip. Zelda wished Father Mephisto would stop pestering her especially when she appeared uncomfortable.

“They did.”, she replies nonetheless. “Mainly my father. My mum passed when I was six years young.”

Father Mephisto’s expression hardened. “Well, Sister Rowena, if you wish to learn about yourself and your abilities, you are more than welcome to stay. The Dark Lord will shelter any willing witch or warlock. He will open those beautiful green eyes to the true path-the Path of Night.”

Rowena appeared hesitant, which was understandable. Father Mephisto wasn’t exactly the greatest example for a young witch’s mentor.

The Scottish girl eventually concedes “I thank ya for yer hospitality.”

“Of course, my lovely. Now, join us for dinner, please.”

Rowena glances back at the others. They all quickly look back to their plates. Zelda stood up and pulled a chair out unoccupied next to her.

“Here.”, Zelda offers in an assuring voice. “You can sit right here.”

Rowena’s reluctant expression softens as she makes her way right by the offered seat. Zelda stands behind the chair. She waits for her to get settled before pushing it in for her.

“Thank ya.” Rowena says.

Zelda gives her this small smile. “You’re welcome.”

Zelda’ peers look at her in surprise. Since when is she this nice? When has she ever smiled?

She was truly enamored.

After dinner...

Zelda ushers Rowena over to the dorms. There’s silence between them. Zelda cannot find words to say.

Both of the girls would glance at each other every once in a while- a little dance of looks as one would look away quickly lest they be noticed by the other.

“This will be your quarters.” Zelda breaks the silence as they appear by an empty room. “My room is just across the way should you need anything. I room with Agnes. If I’m not there, don’t hesitate to reach out to Agnes should you need anything.”

Rowena steps into the empty room. Zelda leans against the door frame as she watches Rowena smooth the edges of the bed.

“Thank ya. If I’m to be honest...” Rowena turns to face Zelda “This has to be the fanciest room I’ve stayed in.”

Zelda raises both brows. “Is that so?”

Rowena sits on the bed. Her face relaxes from the soft texture.

“I’ve slept on a board covered in straw for most of my life.”, Rowena explains. “Unlike ya, I was never privileged.”

Zelda scoffs at this. She hated that word. Sure, she didn’t grow up poor, but that didn’t mean she didn’t have her troubles.

“And how would you know I am privileged?”, Zelda rebuffs.

“The way ya speak, the way ya dress, and all of this. Ya get to stay in this nice place, a place where ya even get to learn more about yer powers. I say that’s pretty lucky.” Rowena replies while laying back on the bed.

“I bet yer family home is perfect as well.”

Zelda’s brows furrowed and her nostrils flare.

“You don’t know a thing about me. How dare you stroll in here and think you have everything pegged. You are lucky Professor Brinkley even let you in. He took a look at you and pitied you.”, Zelda spat.

If anyone knew Zelda, once you set her off, there was no turning back.

It was Rowena’s turn to scoff now. She sits up to glare deep into those precious blue eyes in front of her.

“Perhaps I’ve got somethin’ pegged right. Yer a spoiled brat. I don’t need anyone’s pity. Any kind person would let someone in. Oh wait, this is real life. Ha...maybe yer right. At least I don’t have to live with the fact I get things handed to me.”

Rowena’s temper was evenly matched with Zelda’s. Zelda wanted to hex her right now, insult her further, yet there was something about this fiery redhead that just piqued her interest even more. A challenge wouldn’t hurt, one that would teach her a lesson.

“You’ll regret that, I assure you. I retract the kindness I extended to you.”, Zelda sneered.

Rowena’s eyes lit in what seemed to be a blend of mirth and anger.

“Kindness? More like pity.”,Rowena retorts. “Well, goodnight spoiled brat.”

Zelda stomps one foot and crosses her arms. That earned a serpent-like smirk from the red headed beauty.

“That is Zelda to you.”

Rowena shrugs “Same thing.’’

Zelda grips the doorknob tightly. “Goodnight Rowena.” She grits through her teeth. She then slams the door.

Rowena barely flinches. “Goodnight Zelda.”, she murmurs.

This Scottish girl sighs as she lays back down. She stares up at the ceiling inquisitively. There was something about that Zelda.

Zelda was so gorgeous, filled with a hidden fire. It made Rowena smirk to think she got to this prim and proper girl.

It couldn’t hurt to tease her more.

To be continued...

#zowena #zelda spellman #rowena macleod #spn #caos

[lotornomiko]

The Broken Hearted Comfort Five (Still not work safe at times)

One more done before I sleep....more dub con elements....

  Hook hadn't been in the best of moods, when he had thrown Belle over his shoulder. Several strong feelings had been behind such an action, the least of which being that of his impatience. Whether that impatience was stronger for the need to get free of this tower, or if it was for the desire to bed the lass the first chance that he could get, Hook didn't yet know. Both seemed so equally urgent, the lust that he has been struggling with feeling for Belle, making him careless, even downright foolish. He should after all know better than this. Know that now wasn't the time to delay for anything, let alone the sex he had already been waiting on for several weeks now.

His body didn't seem to care, his libido not giving a damn to what was right, and what was wrong. That inexplicable lust that he felt for the woman, all of those strong desires and urges, that NEED, were raging further and further out of control. Leaving his blood burning hot, and rendering his body rock hard. Every muscle made rigid and tense with it, Hook could feel the strain of him holding back, and how much doing such a thing made him suffer so.

It wasn’t helping to have her so near. Regardless of how, whether she was pinned and squirming beneath him, or struggling in place as she lay suspended, draped over one strong shoulder. Either way he had and still did feel her breasts, that pliant softness against him. Rising and falling with her rapid breaths, what had started as a bit of a struggle, was now escalating in intensity, that of Belle’s efforts to get free. That spirited lass was just short of thrashing wildly about, at times pounding her small fists against his back. Such blows weren’t having the desired effect, not in cooling his twisted passion down, or serving to annoy him as much as the beauty would have him be. He was simply too used to such things, to the act of carrying off a struggling female, due to his long lived career as a pirate.

It was that skill, long practiced and perfected, that kept his steps from faltering. It was why Hook didn’t so much as stumble from Belle’s most wildest of movements. She could struggle and scream all she liked, and would still come no closer to getting free, the pirate not about to drop her even at his most exasperated. With steps that were both careful and precise, he made his way down the tower’s spiraling mammoth of a stair case. Belle maintained her fight, a valiant effort made as she kicked out with her legs, while shouting and begging for a help that was not coming.

"Afraid that mine is the only help you'll get here, sweet heart." Hook told her, his voice carrying easily enough over even the worst of her shouts. Her legs though continued to kick, one nearly catching him in the face. That was what finally snapped some of his remaining patience, Hook slapping his hand against Belle's shapely bottom. Her furious screaming turned into that of an indignant gasp, the woman shocked by what he had just done. By what he continued to now do, Hook unable to stop touching her now that she had given him a reason to.

"Stop that!" Belle snapped, and if possible, her squirming became something even more wild. Not once though, did she try to again kick out again, the lesson perhaps learned, the woman perhaps fearing such behavior would earn her another slap to her soft bottom. He would have to, if such a thing was necessitated by her, although the pirate was far more interested in curving his hand over her rump in a far different manner. It wasn’t just her flesh’s pliant softness that he was so enamored with now, but that faint heat he could feel coming off her. The warm skin that lay partially revealed, Belle’s struggles and the aid of his exploring hand, having dislodged her tunic enough, so that its hem had ridden up high enough so that her panties lay exposed.

They were nothing like the ones she had worn that night in the alleyway, the volumes of fine silk replaced with the thinnest and most scandalous of cotton. So barely nonexistent, and nothing like what a lady would normally wear, the sight and feel of it was enough to make Hook break out into a sweat. There was no chance of any real behaving, the pirate’s excitement incited to an incendiary heat that would burn them BOTH alive, and her panties were now just something else in HIS way, his fingers grasping at the too thin fabric. His own breath harsh with such desperation, the impulse to strip and tear her free of what little that she was wearing, was one he almost obeyed without hesitation, situation and circumstance be damned, and that wasn’t at all okay, some sliver thin part of him able to acknowledge the inherent wrongness of his actions. There was a time and a place for everything, and with the hoarsest of moans, and most foulest of curses, he just barely was able to stop himself.

Already trembling with both the fear and that of her own awareness, Belle had quieted down for several more steps. He’d almost think they’d make it all the way down without any more words spoken, but it was a deceptive quiet that had been bought. She wasn’t yet so thoroughly defeated by him, or by the situation, dangling as she was across his shoulder. He could almost imagine her mind whirling a million seconds a minute, Hook hoping that she was processing and coming to grips with the hand fate had dealt them, and NOT planning a sneak attack of some sort.

“You won’t get away with this.” It wasn’t as passionate as such a proclamation deserved, Belle’s voiced more tired than anything. “The Queen will see to that. She’ll...”

"The Queen will have more prisoners to track down than even she can manage." It was interjected with a smile, a reckless uncaring to him, as he angled down another few steps. “Ah, you hear that?” He asked her, of the celebratory sounding cheers that echoed from lower down in the tower.

“Your crew?” She sounded more fearful than anything, and was woefully misguided on just who those sounds actually belong to.

“Ah love, you’re wrong about that. Those are the sound of the prisoners going free. The many men and women captured that my pirates have let loose.” It was louder yet, those people not yet ready to leave this place, not until they had finished ransacking the tower in preparation for their travels.

“Why would they...you bother?” Belle asked, then sighed. “Never mind. There’s no way I would be so deluded as to think you do it out of pity or kindness. You think to throw the Queen off track…? More’s a fool that YOU are, because she too is deluded. Enough so to make me her top priority.”

That stirred something else that went beyond his lustful obsession, an honest curiosity filling him. Beyond that of the carnal, the pirate knew very little about this woman, about who she was, and of where she had come from. He certainly didn’t know much about her enemies, save that the Evil Queen had been after her. Not even Smee, with all of his skill for finding out the impossible, had been able to divine just what the Queen’s interest in Belle could have been about.

“Why is that?” Hook spoke it out loud, and it was a question to her, and to himself, the pirate puzzled over Smee’s inability here.

"It...it doesn't matter." came her hesitant answer. "It can't be worse than what you intend!"

"You insult me so." Hook muttered, before his voice turned thick and silky with seductive intent. “And after I came all this way here JUST for YOU.” He was practically purring then, and it was all he could do to keep from caressing over her again.

"And that is suspicious in and of itself!" Belle snapped. "Damn you, put me down!" She sounded almost regal, the way that she spoke with such authority. But be she princess or peasant, Hook took orders from no one, continuing to carry her in a most ungainly manner, draped as she was over him. Even before she let out so infuriated a sound, Hook could tell that she was already fuming. Belle was not one to like her demands going ignored, anymore than Hook liked his own desires continuing to be neglected, His lust an ever present thing, it weighed him down when his steps should have been lighter for the rescue that had been done, that obsession that he had, leaving him the one annoyed. He could barely endure it, that of Belle’s continued attempts at rejection, and the fact that the woman hadn’t once acted at all grateful for the saving the pirate had done. He was pretty sure she would have been left to rot in that windowless room that had passed for her cell, his beauty the most carefully guarded of all the people the Queen had ever jailed. Never again would she have seen the light of a sun lit day, or have been allowed to feel the warmth of another person’s touch, no one else having been looking for her. No one else even concerned enough to even attempt the kind of rescuing that Hook had just done. For that alone should the lass be grateful, her broken heart thawing just a little, to express something more than this dislike.

It was an understatement to say that Hook was expecting Belle to reward him, for her to be willing, even eager to express her relief and her joy over the saving. That she was none of those things, was to put it mildly, completely and utterly aggravating. After all that he had done, all of the lengths that Hook had gone to, the effort that had been put into planning this rescue? A little gratitude was the very least of what he had been expecting. He might not have expected her to immediately fall on him with her arms open, but neither had Hook been prepared for the slap, or for quite as much of the anger that she had expressed. He hadn’t yet caught on to the fact that she was scared of him, terrified of the intimacy his lust had made clear he was desiring. He was too far gone to think that straight, instead letting his own disappointment burn in a way that was ever so different from that ruinous desire that ran hot like a fever within him. Yes, he acknowledged to himself. Yes, it was true that he had thoroughly botched that night in the alley, that he had treated the lass far too shabbily. And yes, Hook had hurt her, had gone so far as to introduce Belle to sex in one of the worst and most careless of ways possible. But did she really mean it when Belle had insisted she preferred staying the Queen's prisoner, to leaving this place with Hook?

It was simply too incomprehensible! The pirate couldn’t understand it, anymore than he could realize just how badly he had in effect scared Belle with his overly amorous stunts on the prison cot. That it hadn’t been just his attempts at molestation, or that of his blatantly voiced intentions, but that he was the living, breathing embodiment of one half her heart break, and made all the more terrifying with the seductive menace of his desires. That voiced lust that was as much a threat as it was a dark promise, Belle frightened at the thought of continuing what he had tried to ignite at a later time and a more suitable place.

Absolutely clueless to the fright he had and continued still to cause her, Hook still had those very lustful intentions in mind. Ones he intended to fully see through to their orgasmic end, Hook wanting Belle, and wanting her NOW. He was not of mind to be put off by refusals for long, sure that he could seduce or at the very least reason with her towards why she should be grateful. He told himself that once Belle was made to understand the very real situation, she would quickly get over any remaining objections that she might have still had.

It was more than a little delusional, the situation with Belle proving far more complex than that of any of the different kind of women Hook had been used to dealing with. Everything from simpering damsels in distress, to cunning shrews that had been willing to do anything and everything to survive, why even the calculating and capable women aboard his ship, were nowhere near close to the kind of lass Belle was proving to be. She was a woman ready to mold her own destiny with her own choices, be they good, or be they bad, even if they should keep her imprisoned or see her set free. She had no wish to be dependent on anyone for her future and her safety, least of all, that of the pirate who had so cruelly, and so carelessly taken her virginity.

That night was weighing heavy on her mind as well, Belle unable to NOT think back to the way that she had so stupidly given herself to the pirate. She could and had called herself a fool a million times over, regretting immensely what she had allowed to have happened. What she was determined wouldn't happen again, regardless of the pirate's wishes, and the fact that he was still taking advantage of the situation, to steal touches on her flesh, that hand bold in the caresses it did over her.

Her face red from more than just her blush, Belle was so angry. As well as so scared. She knew for certain at least one of the things that the pirate now wanted from her, though sex was hardly what Belle considered to be the motivating factor of this so called rescue. There was little that she knew for certain, but her suspicions had led her down a path. One that said that the pirate had somehow learned exactly who she was, what she was, and intended to ransom her for a small fortune.

He'd most likely get that fortune too. Her kingdom might be a poor one, and her people might consider Belle a martyr and tainted by Rumplestiltskin, but her father, their King, still loved her. Enough so that he would pay any price, even bankrupt their kingdom further, in an effort to see his daughter safe. It was infuriating to think she was once again to be someone's pawn, the bargaining chip in which the fate of thousands rested upon.

It burned, the mere idea that Belle was once again not in control of her own destiny. That she had to rely on other people to decide her ultimate fate. That she hadn't been about to get free of this tower, without someone, be it the pirate's or Rumplestiltskin's help. In this moment Belle felt cursed by fate, unable to truly affect anything of any importance on her own.

But she wasn't ready to sit back and admit defeat. She wasn't ready to be the puppet guided by someone else strings. Belle was smart, she was resourceful, and if given enough time and tools, she'd find a way, escaping the pirate and his plans for her and her kingdom.

Until then, she'd bide her time. Admittedly she was uneasy, downright fearful of the pirate's blatant sexual interest. He had already touched her far more than was appropriate, regardless of what had happened that night in the alleyway. His voiced assumptions on what he was expecting, was even worse, as was the fact that he was using her precarious perch on his shoulder to fondle her bottom.

In the time it had taken the pirate to carry her down three flights of stairs, Belle had realized the futility of hysterics. Screaming wasn't summoning any help, the guards, her jailers already dead. The prisoners who were behind the cheering that she had heard, clearly weren’t interested in investigating any single woman's screams. And kicking had only gotten the pirate to do a hard spank on the very bottom he was now groping!

Belle gritted her teeth, again silently fuming. Eyeing the tower's walls, searching for something, even a torch to grab hold of as a weapon. But the pirate was staying well away from the reach of the walls, far too experienced to allow her such an opportunity. He continued his impertinent touching, and then she felt it, his fingers nudging under the band of her panties. That was the cause for Belle to forgot all about the reasons why she shouldn't kick, why it was useless to scream. She went wild, cursing him, calling him all manner of names, as she thrashed about, legs flailing, fists pounding on his back.

She heard his own voice let out an exasperated curse, and then Belle was shifted. She didn't stop her squirming, if anything she fought even more as she was slid down the pirate's body. The instant her feet touched the stairs, Belle tried to spring away. Only to find that the pirate was grabbing her around the waist, jerking her hard against his front.

His eyes which had been dark with such a strong felt annoyance, took on a different light to them. A downright hungry gleam, the pirate staring at her, pressing Belle all the more firmly against his body. Her voice took on a strangled note, Belle becoming aware of more than just the powerful build of his body. For he was AROUSED, a fact that made her stomach curl in fear and distaste.

Hook saw the way that she had reacted, felt the way that her body had stiffened in displeasure. But he couldn't stop a damn thing, let alone his own reactions to her nearness. Having her pressed this close was worse than when she had been on his shoulder, her ample sized breasts quivering with every breath against him. At least she had stopped her downright spastic flailings, Hook having almost come close to dropping her by accident. That could have been disastrous, with them this close to the edge of the spiral staircase, with the long drop in which one could have plummet easily to their death.

As scary as the thought of dropping her had been, Hook couldn't fight the lust coursing through him now. The lust that made demands of them both, Hook staring down at Belle's face. At her lips, which had been the fuel of a number of erotic fantasies, Hook remembering the inexperienced but eager way that Belle had kissed him that first night.

He nearly groaned then, but somehow stifled that sound from coming out. Belle was still able to guess his intent from the look in his eyes, and from the way that he leaned in, the woman starting to say something in protest. It was lost when his mouth covered hers, Hook's fingers digging into her hip, his other arm locked around her in unyielding possession.

It wasn't a complete relief to be kissing her now. Hook's urges were too strong for just that, the man wanting, no, needing to be inside her. To sink himself fully into the miraculous spot between her legs, to bring them both panting and delirious, every thrust burying him deeper. That need translated into the hard urgency in which he now kissed Belle with, Hook fighting the impulse to pin her against the nearest surface and just take what he wanted.

The dozens of reasons why he shouldn't be doing this right this very second, were fleeing his mind. His focus was going, Hook more enamored with the sweet softness of Belle's lips. Of the heat that surged through him at the pressing together of their mouths. Of the feel of her light attempts to squirm free, her breasts rubbing over his chest. If he could, if he had the time and luxury, Hook would have devoured her whole. As it were, he kept telling himself just a few seconds more, prolonging the kiss, savoring it and her.

Belle for her part was in shock, and outright dismayed, with her fear ratcheting up by several noticeable notches. As distasteful as it was to have the pirate keep on kissing her, it was even worse for the fact that she had almost responded. The memories of the kisses shared in the alleyway had risen up, Belle recalling how she had very much enjoyed that part of her encounter with the pirate. He had made her feel desirable, wanted, had awakened her to just how wonderful a kiss could be.

But the memory of the pain and shame that had followed, the way the pirate had used her for his own selfish needs, had also risen up, making her eyes water. The tears reminded her that he was not anything like the men she should be associating with, that he was a cad and a villain. That he didn't give a damn about her, and was willing to do anything, even hurt her again, for his own lusts and ambitions.

Belle's next impulse was to bite down on his lip, but thankfully a cooler thought prevailed. She began thinking past her humiliations, her fears, to actually start to scheme. To notice things besides the kiss, and the fact that the pirate was hard against her. She became aware of how he had things strapped to his side, a scabbard for his sword, and a smaller sheathe that was the size of about a small dagger.

With a look that would have been described as devious had the pirate not been so consumed by the kiss, Belle let herself soften. She stopped outright fighting, letting the pirate part her lips with his. The man’s kiss in no way lessened in eagerness, but it became something more. Less demanding, less punishing, turning almost gentle. Coaxing even, Belle fighting not the response that she gave him, but the way that her body so love starved, wanted to soften in acceptance of what the pirate now gave her.

Hook didn't know what to make of the fact Belle was kissing him back, save to savor the sweet response, the elation he felt at this the most unexpected of victories. She tasted so good, all honey and sweetness, her skin a creamy delight that brought to mind all of the times that Hook had spent pleasuring himself to the scent of it on her bed sheets.

He didn't know what it was about Belle, what made him experience a lust like he had never before felt. A lust that was so consuming, it pushed thoughts and grief out of his mind, made him forget for a time his pain. It, she, made him wild, made him crazed, Hook feeling the roar of masculine satisfaction when Belle went from pushing at him, to wrapping her arms around his waist.

Her delicate hands then caressed over his sides, Hook thinking nothing strange of that. If anything he felt triumphant, assuming she had finally come around, that she had finally realized her position, and just who she should be grateful to and how.

Hook's mood improved immensely, he didn't know the feelings that were going through Belle's head. How her heart hammered in fear and with her nerves, how her flesh goose pimpled, her hands practically shaking as she caressed him. She didn't go immediately for the dagger, continuing to kiss him, to let him think that she was submitting. Her heart seemed to stop when her fingers closed around the hilt of the dagger, the pirate having let out a very feral sounding growl.

Belle nearly collapsed in relief when the realization came that the growl had nothing to do with her attempted theft. The pirate was merely being vocal in his pleasure, and so feral in his need. Belle again drew the dagger ever so slowly from him, keeping her other hand busy on him, caressing instead of shoving him away like she so dearly wanted to.

Pocketing the dagger in her tunic, Belle wasn't prepared to use it just yet. Not until she was free and far from this tower. Not until she had money and a means to travel, Belle wondering what else she could take from the pirate.

Belle let the kiss continue for a few seconds more, knowing too break it off too soon would rouse the pirate's suspicions. But the sudden press of him against her, the feel of his erection big, bold, and threatening, was more than she could take. With a gasp, Belle managed to pull free of the kiss, wanting to slap him, and settling instead for turning her face to the side.

He'd actually linger a kiss on her cheek before speaking her name in a questioning tone.

"Belle?"

It was then a startled realization worked its way to the forefront of her brain. He knew her name, but she didn't even know who he was, a fact that put her at a yet another disadvantage. Not that Belle thought it mattered what his name was, not when she didn't intend for him to be more than another road bump on her bid for freedom.

"Just who are you?" She demanded out loud. He reacted with surprise, and then did a sheepish blink of his eyes. He didn't let go of her, practically breathing in her ear.

"Forgive me for my lax in manners." Belle nearly snorted at that, for she felt he had none. But it was distracting the way the pirate's lips seemed to caress the curve of her ear, Belle shivering from more than just cold or mere fear. "My name is Hook. I am captain of the Jolly Roger pirates."

If he expected her to be impressed by any of this, she was not, Belle quirking an eyebrow in derision. Hook, how quaint, how fitting a nickname given his missing hand. "Well, captain." She spoke out loud, voice seething in sarcastic parody of politeness. "You'll forgive me this moment of insanity, for it won't be happening again."

If she had expected her announcement to be cutting in its rejection, Belle was sorely disappointed. Hook just smirked and murmured in her ear, right before he tongued at it, "We'll be seeing about that, won't we, sweet."

Of all the arrogant, over confidant, pompous men she had known, and that was saying something considering Belle had been engaged to Gaston, Hook was in a category all of his own. It practically rendered her speechless, Belle attempting to wrench herself free of his arms. She was made aware of how helpless she was in comparison to his strength, Hook holding onto her, until she had stopped fighting.

Grateful he hadn't tried to kiss her again, Belle could only stew silently when Hook slowly, cautiously let her step free. But then he took hold of her arm, his grip ready to turn bruising at the slightest show of resistance. Belle instead trailed behind him, glaring daggers into his back, hating how amused Hook was, and how he had smirked about the likelihood of another kiss happening.

Determined for the kiss to never again be repeated, Belle was sure she would do what was needed to protect herself and what was left of her virtue.

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To Be Continued....

08/27/2021 Updated, with some tweaking here and there, and some major rewriting going on in one section.

Michelle

#once upon a time #ouat #fanfiction #fanfic #Captain Hook #Captain Beauty #CaptainBeauty #killian x belle #killian jones #Belle #The Broken Hearted Comfort #dubious consent #romance #smut

[bonegender]

I'm deciding to respond to this in a separate post because I do not want to derail the original intentions of the post with my thoughts. You can read the article in the original post here and I recommend that you do before reading what I have to say about it in my post.

I think this article has the best of intentions, and like the tweets the writer critiques and admonishes for blowing things out of proportion and becoming biased, I think unfortunately that is what this article has done in turn. Often times, this is just the very nature of discussing hot topics and sensitive issues in online circles and even offline. What Isabel did was perhaps in good faith but needs to be recognized as a faux pas. People are sensitive to this sort of anonymity for a reason as it is weaponized by T*RFS and other anti trans groups on the regular.

I'm rather appalled at the stance posed by this article, questioning what harm would it do if there was another piece of transphobic media in a space that is supposed to be more welcoming of transness? What harm would it do? It would welcome more transphobia well intentioned or otherwise. What's to stop others from making insensitive short stories under the guise of good faith? What's to stop a wave of Sci Fi writers from flooding the scene with wombyn ideologies? Isn't there enough transphobic, homophobic, sexist and racist writers no matter the genre? But it's okay to excuse more of them because they could potentially be closeted?

Personally I feel this is an asinine take. I feel to allow for a margin of error especially with the mask of anonymity is just allowing for people to stick their xenophobic, transphobic, and potentially fetishizing fingers into places that are attempting to make themselves safe for other marginalized people. This isn't to say that there shouldn't be room for discussion of gender like Isabel attempted to do, and I think it was a very brave and brash move for her to make that her FIRST publication as her new attempted identity. However, her downfall is not single-handedly the fault of the twitter users that speculated her identity. She took a bat to a hornet's nest and then was shocked when she was stung.

I do not wish her harm and I do not think she deserved the level of backlash she got. I do think that she was misguided, and perhaps should have thought twice about making such a reactionary and problematic meme the title of her first work. That alone is a red flag and especially for someone with so little information behind them. It's really bizarre to me how one can cry out that they were shot when they were the one holding the gun to their foot. Perhaps "cancel culture" is a bit out of control on some level, of that I will concede, but did Isabel really live in such a bubble as not to expect potential backlash?

If this article was meant to put to rest the discussion around this whole debacle, it failed. To me this is further stirring of the pot when really Isabel should be left to heal and mend her relationship with her identity after the fall out of this nightmare. This opens the door for further dissection of her behavior, her motives, and what it means to be closeted and the way people handle transness and their expression of gender. Something that really spoke out to me is Isabel's comment about being sniffed out as potentially not being a woman because she didn't know how to write women and how that notion was potentially transphobic. I am a trans man. I will never claim to know how to write cis men, nor can I truly say I know how to write trans men either. I barely know what it's like to be trans and that is from my own perspective. Every woman is different, trans or otherwise, and there is no definitive way to write one gender or any for that matter.

I feel that this was a perfect storm of an inexperienced writer being published with potentially internalized transphobia working through that transphobic ideology on a grand stage for all to see. No one could have possibly predicted the outcome in full, but it would be foolish to say that none of it was truly expected. Ignorance is still ignorance, even if it's coming from those who are marginalized. We can forgive and we can move on but to give people passes simply because they are on the side of those downtrodden leaves room for others to cry wolf. I wish the best for Isabel, and hope she can recover and be something more of what she wants to be, but it needs to be recognized she made a mistake. A good-hearted mistake, but a mistake nonetheless.

I will say that yes, Twitter and other sites are very good at tearing it's users apart and keeping some sort of pecking order. I will admit that online queer spaces are becoming notorious for eating themselves alive and measuring and monitoring all behaviors to make us all seem more consumable and easy to categorize. There is huge issue to be taken with the way queer spaces shove identities in boxes where there should be room for expression and error. Where is the line? When do we call something a mockery or satire? Where does good faith end and malice begin and who gets to make that call? This may not be answered for a long time now, and things like this may continue to harm people, but perhaps there should be lessons taught to help people distance themselves from online dog fights like this. Maybe there should be resources to help oneself guard against backlash like this. It's a tricky rope to walk along, since so much of this borders on censorship, suppression of discussion and the ability to defend groups against those that would seek to disguise in order to push harmful agendas.

I don't know. The only thing we can say for certain is that a writer tried in good faith to express her conflict with her identity, the horror of what it would mean to have gender weaponized and exploited in literal combat, and ended up fighting a battle that ultimately could have taken her own life. What's worse is that she got to see the true face of her peers, and watched as they tore her apart from behind the curtain. That must have been very hard to stomach and I applaud her for seeking help. I hope she's able to recover, and wherever she goes from here I only hope that it's up.

#long post #cw: transphobia #cw: suicide #cw: internalized transphobia #I don't intend to go back and forth on this but I just kind of wanted to say my piece #I'm not a trans woman and I don't know what it's like to be one

[dailytafsirofquran]

Tafsir Ibn Kathir: Surah Al-Baqarah Ayah 13-15

In the Name of Allah, the Most Gracious, the Most Merciful.

13. And when it is said to them: Believe as the people believe, They say: "Shall we believe as the fools have believed!''

Verily, they are the fools, but they do not know.

Allah tells;

And when it is said to them: Allah said that if the hypocrites are told, "Believe as the people believe,''

meaning, `Believe just as the believers believe in Allah, His angels, His Books, His Messengers, Resurrection after death, Paradise and Hellfire, etc. And obey Allah and His Messenger by heeding the commandments and avoiding the prohibitions.'

Yet the hypocrites answer by saying, "Shall we believe as the fools have believed!''

they meant (may Allah curse the hypocrites) the Companions of the Messenger of Allah.

This is the same Tafsir given by Abu Al-Aliyah and As-Suddi in his Tafsir, with a chain of narration to Ibn Abbas, Ibn Mas`ud and other Companions.

This is also the Tafsir of Ar-Rabi bin Anas and Abdur-Rahman bin Zayd bin Aslam.

The hypocrites said,

"Us and them having the same status, following the same path, while they are fools!''

`The fool' is the ignorant, simple-minded person who has little knowledge in areas of benefit and harm. This is why, according to the majority of the scholars, Allah used the term foolish to include children, when He said, And do not give your property, which Allah has made a means of support for you, to the foolish. (4:5)

Allah answered the hypocrites in all of these instances.

For instance, Allah said here, Verily, they are the fools.

Allah thus affirmed that the hypocrites are indeed the fools.

yet, But they know not.

Since they are so thoroughly ignorant, the hypocrites are unaware of their degree of deviation and ignorance, and such situation is more dangerous, a severer case of blindness, and further from the truth than one who is aware.

14. And when they meet those who believe, they say: "We believe,'' but when they are alone with their Shayatin (devils), they say: "Truly, we are with you; verily, we were but mocking.''

15. Allah mocks at them and leaves them increasing in their deviation to wander blindly. The Hypocrites' Cunning and Deceit

Allah said,

And when they meet those who believe, they say: "We believe,''

Allah said that when the hypocrites meet the believers, they proclaim their faith and pretend to be believers, loyalists and friends. They do this to misdirect, mislead and deceive the believers. The hypocrites also want to have a share of the benefits and gains that the believers might possibly acquire.

Yet, But when they are alone with their Shayatin, meaning, if they are alone with their devils, such as their leaders and masters among the rabbis of the Jews, hypocrites and idolators.

Human and Jinn Devils

Ibn Jarir said,

"The devils of every creation are the mischievous among them. There are both human devils and Jinn devils.

Allah said,

And so We have appointed for every Prophet enemies _ Shayatin (devils) among mankind and Jinn, inspiring one another with adorned speech as a delusion (or by way of deception). (6:112)

The Meaning of `Mocking

Allah said,

They say: "Truly, we are with you''.

Muhammad bin Ishaq reported that Ibn Abbas said that the Ayah means,

"We are with you, (Verily, we were but mocking), meaning, we only mock people (the believers) and deceive them.''

Verily, we were but mocking, Ad-Dahhak said that Ibn Abbas said that the Ayah, means, "We (meaning the hypocrites) were mocking the Companions of Muhammad.''

Also, Ar-Rabi` bin Anas and Qatadah said similarly.

Allah's statement,

Allah mocks at them and leaves them increasing in their deviation to wander blindly. answers the hypocrites and punishes them for their behavior.

Ibn Jarir commented,

"Allah mentioned what He will do to them on the Day of Resurrection, when He said, On the Day when the hypocrites _ men and women _ will say to the believers: "Wait for us!

Let us get something from your light!'' It will be said: "Go back to your rear! Then seek a light!''

So a wall will be put up between them, with a gate therein. Inside it will be mercy, and outside it will be torment.) (57:13)

And let not the disbelievers think that Our postponing of their punishment is good for them. We postpone the punishment only so that they may increase in sinfulness." (3:178)

He then said,

"This, and its like, is Allah's mockery of the hypocrites and the people of Shirk.''

The Hypocrites suffering for their Plots

Allah stated that He will punish the hypocrites for their mockery, using the same terms to describe both the deed and its punishment, although the meaning is different.

Similarly, Allah said,

The recompense for an offense is an offense equal to it; but whoever forgives and makes reconciliation, his reward is with Allah. (42:40) and,

Then whoever transgresses (the prohibition) against you, transgress likewise against him. (2:194)

The first act is an act of injustice, while the second act is an act of justice. So both actions carry the same name, while being different in reality.

This is how the scholars explain deceit, cunning and mocking when attributed to Allah in the Qur'an. Surely, Allah exacts revenge for certain evil acts with a punishment that is similar in nature to the act itself. We should affirm here that Allah does not do these things out of joyful play, according to the consensus of the scholars, but as a just form of punishment for certain evil acts.

Meaning of `Leaves them increasing in their deviation to wander blindly

Allah said,

...and leaves them increasing in their deviation to wander blindly.

As-Suddi reported that Ibn Abbas, Ibn Mas`ud and several other Companions of the Messenger of Allah said that, (and leaves them increasing) means, He gives them respite.

Also, Mujahid said,

"He (causes their deviation) to increase.''

Allah said;

Do they think that by the wealth and the children with which We augment them. (That) We hasten to give them with good things. Nay, but they perceive not. (23:55-56)

Ibn Jarir commented,

"The correct meaning of this Ayah is `We give them increase from the view of giving them respite and leaving them in their deviation and rebellion.'

Similarly, Allah said,

And We shall turn their hearts and their eyes away (from guidance), as they refused to believe in it the first time, and We shall leave them in their trespass to wander blindly.'' (6:110)

Tughyan used in this Ayah means to transgress the limits, just as Allah said in another Ayah,

Verily, when the water Tagha (rose) beyond its limits, We carried you in the ship. (69:11)

Also, Ibn Jarir said that; the term `Amah, in the Ayah means, `deviation'.

He also said about Allah's statement, (in their deviation to wander),

"In the misguidance and disbelief that has encompassed them, causing them to be confused and unable to find a way out of it. This is because Allah has stamped their hearts, sealed them, and blinded their vision. Therefore, they do not recognize guidance or find the way out of their deviation.''

#allah #god #islam #muslim #quran #revert #convert #convert islam #revert islam #reverthelp #revert help #revert help team #help #islamhelp #converthelp #prayer #salah #muslimahg #reminder #pray #dua #hijab #religion #mohammad #new muslim #new revert #new convert #how to convert to islam #convert to islam #welcome to islam

[kuningannasansa]

A musketeers rewatch (that nobody asked for) 1x07

Here we go, my least favorite episode of the whole show excluding season three which I didn’t watch! If you have even a passing fondness for Ninon, I suggest you look away :)

We start with a royal procession through the crowd and there are quite a lot of waving people there. If they can fill the streets with extras for scenes like that, why can those same extras not be used for the court scenes?

Priest whose name I have forgotten is being robbed. The musketeers rush in to help. 

Meanwhile, a crazy girl tries to get close to the queen and ends up being ran over by her carriage. If this is meant to be some Emily Davison analogy, it sucks!

The dead lunatic’s name is Therese and she wanted to give the Queen a note. Constance takes it and says “Fleur, what does this mean?” Am I supposed to take from that that she cannot read for herself? Cause a merchant’s wife definitely, definitely would know how to do that. 

Fleur is nowhere to be seen, however.

“This is an age of glorious discovery!” says Ninon. “Galileo observes the moons of Jupiter... But what is the role of women in this age of wonder?” - well, gee, i don’t know Ninon. Maybe you could have mentioned some female scientists of the era in addition to Galileo? Catherine de Parthenay, anyone? Or Marie Fouquet? Hell, Ninon de l'Enclos, my atheist queen, for whom this Ninon is doubtless named, was a notable woman in her own right! But no, we have to make women look more oppressed than they actually were to make this waste of space look more awesome. 

“My women of Paris, seek your own enlightenment!” - wrong era!

Therese, an orphan from a humble background, wanted to hand a petition to the queen about women’s education.  

“If she was an illiterate orphan she could not have written this. It is misguided but not unintelligent.” - says Richelieu. And indeed he turns out to be right. She didn’t write it. Which is fucking bizarre. 

Anne asks him if he doesn’t favor women’s education and he replies: “I admire learning wherever it is to be found, but this amounts to an attack on the authority of church and state.” Any French history buff know what the actual Richelieu’s thought of women’s education? @tatzelwyrm​? I’m gonna start a biography on him soon, but not until I’m done with this rewatch.

Ninon barges in past the guards and yells “stay out of my way, I will address the King!”. I’m sure this is meant to make her look badass, but she just comes across like a complete idiot who doesn’t understand that she would do better to follow court protocol, no matter how much she might dislike it, if she wants to achieve her goals.    

Luckily for her she’s pretty, so the king doesn’t mind.

“I want to know why this tragedy happened. If your guards are to blame I want them punished.” And then she gives Treville a dirty look! How dare you, you waste of skin and oxygen! Don’t you dare blame Treville for this mess! 

“You knew this lunatic?” - lmao, Richelieu!

Therese was the daughter of Ninon’s servant whom Ninon decided to educate. So she was educated, she COULD have written the petition herself. But she did not. Because when Richelieu says “she wrote this and was killed trying to give it to the Queen” Ninon screeches: “Don’t be ridiculous! She didn’t write it, I did!” And I mean, who exactly is looking down on servant girls here and saying it’s ridiculous to expect them to write something intelligent. It’s not Richelieu. 

But more importantly, WHY?? If Ninon wrote it, why couldn’t she hand it to the Queen? Why did this poor girl have to die? This is so, so stupid! I mean, okay, maybe Therese heard Ninon speak well of the queen and got the idea to hand her the petition on her own, without being told by Ninon to do so. But why did she have it in the first place, if it’s Ninon’s petition?

“Apparently the Comtesse de Laroque believes herself above the normal laws and conventions of society.” ´- well that’s an understatement.  

“The treasury is bankrupt and the country needs a new navy. Ninon has the wealth to provide it.” And that is why Richelieu sends Milady into the salon to find something to use against her. These two are so good in this, I love their scenes together! Pity about the rest of the episode. 

Richelieu is now freaking out about lesbians and Milady is just like “really, dude? really?”. I love her!

“Ninon must pay up or face destruction, I want every last penny from her!” - so it was not his intention to kill her, just to get the money. Interesting.

Fleur’s father is Bonacieux’s cousin. I love that, the commoners having family connections and support circles of their own.

The robbed priest is called Luca! Richelieu is “delighted to see him”, apparently, cause they’re old friends. And Louis isn’t, because he wrote a pamphlet arguing that Kings should bow down to the Pope’s authority. 

“We can’t have a comtesse abducting young women and spiriting them away to her boudoir!” - Oh, Richelieu! Do calm down.

It’s odd watching Richelieu try to use homosexuality to take Ninon down while shipping Trevilieu thou. 

Athos barges into Ninon’s salon, demanding to know where Fleur is and Milady very discreetly hides behind a pillar. Lol! 

And Ninon starts hitting on Athos immediately. She tells him that she’s often thought he’s handsome but the “melancholy aspect” to his looks is “probably only mental vacancy”. Who taught you how to flirt? Why must you be so abrasive and confrontational all the time? Like really, I get she’s meant to be a Strong Woman Who Don’t Take No Shit TM, but she just comes across like a loudmouth. 

Athos likes it thou!

“Forgive our intrusion-” “I will not forgive it!” - Jesus Ninon, it’s just a figure of speech, a polite gesture. People use these in conversation sometimes. She’s so unnecessarily rude smh.

Aramis says he “gladly acknowledges the superiority of the female sex” and I throw up in my mouth a little. That’s not feminism, that’s slimy!

D’artagnan: “If that wasn’t flirting, I don’t know what is.”  Porthos: “Rubbish! She can’t stand him.”  Aramis: “One day I’ll sit down and explain women to you.” - cause we’re all the same and no means yes, right writers?

Luca: “His holiness is concerned about the direction of French foreign policy.” Richelieu: “Well the pope is Spain’s performing monkey.” - he really is so funny! I know I keep saying that, but he is!

Also, YAY politics! Intelligent dialogue! I love this scene so much!

“In matters of religion I defer to Rome, in all else I am my country’s servant” - lol, Richelieu inventing the separation of church and state

Luca: “Is this your final word on the subject?” Richelieu: “It is.” - and that right there is where Luca decides to kill him. The actor plays it really well, knowing it’s coming I can see the briefest moment of regret in his eyes, but without hindsight I wouldn’t notice anything. And he gives Richelieu the poisoned gift. 

Also, isn't it the same guy who plays Margaret’s new man in Harlots? 

Athos says that Therese and Fleur were so far below Ninon in status that they were not in a position to make choices of their own free will. Which is fuckign stupid. But Ninon saying that she views all women as equal regardless of their birth is equally moronic. I mean, sure, they should be, but in reality they’re not and ignoring that doesn’t help anyone. And Athos does point out that Ninon’s money and position gives her certain privileges, but it sits wrong coming from him and not from Porthos or Milady or Constance, who are from poor/less wealthy backgrounds. That said, this is still one of the few semi intelligent scenes in this whole episode, so whatever. At least someone said it. 

Now she kisses him and invites him to dine! And he just looks sad.

Luca tells Richelieu to “deal with” Ninon “firmly”, cause the Pope is dying and Richelieu could be the next Pope if he shows himself a strong defender of the church against “heresy”. What heresy thou? Women learning to read? Lol, that’s so cartoonishly evil and ahistorical, but whatever. This at least explains where Richelieu’s desire to have her burned came from.

Richelieu: “I wouldn’t go so far as to call her a heretic.” Luca: “A woman who openly defies God's laws, what other word is there?” - what laws thou? what has she done, other than hold some salon meetings, as every other noblewoman was doing at the time?

Richelieu promises to consider his options and Luca tells him to pray to the poisoned bone for guidance, lol.

This right here is Richelieu letting personal feelings cloud his judgement, thou! Which he said he has learned no to do. But he allows himself to be carried away with visions of becoming Pope and honestly I don’t see how he can possibly believe that could happen with his foreign policy and how hated he is by the Vatican, as stated in this very scene.  

Milady and Ninon! I love that scene! Ninon clearly thinks she’s super special because she “takes the initiative” by kissing men instead of waiting to be kissed. She’s so damn smug about it! And Milady is just like “oh I could never be so bold” and I swear I can hear her laughing internally! 

And she very cleverly charms Fleur’s location out of Ninon!

Athos’s idea of a first date is the morgue. Charming.

Athos saying that Ninon is responsible for what happened to Therese because she gave a lowborn girl an education doesn’t sit well with me. Classist ass! But she is responsible for not thinking of Therese beyond how daring and adventurous and fun and positively scandalous it would be to educate a servant girl and then not bothering to care for her when she got bored. Cause if she had done, Therese could have come to her with her plan and she could have prevented her death. Because yes, regardless of her education, her background predisposed Therese to be naive about the King and Queen and how petitions work. Where was Ninon in all this, when a girl under her charge decided to do this foolish thing that cost her her life? Because if you want to be someone’s teacher you do have a duty of care. In short, Ninon is a classist ass as well! They’re perfect for each other!

So Luca’s stolen bag is in the morgue with the body of the thief who stole it. And Athos promises to send for it in the morning. I know it’s CSI: Musketeers and all, but why was it not delivered to Luca the moment it was found, lol? He’s a pretty important guest at the palace and it’s his property. 

Athos agrees with Ninon that marriage is a curse. LOL!

Ninon’s reason for not marrying is that she does not want a husband to own her wealth and body. Makes sense and that’s why many independently wealthy women chose to stay unmarried. Just pointing out the few things that make sense.

“You are a rebellious woman” - oh good, we managed to squeeze the title of the episode into the dialogue! 

Aramis just tossed a red guard out of Ninon’s house. Can’t tell if he’s dead or not, but certainly unconscious. 

There’s fighting. The red guards have swords, the musketeers have books. Athos screams “where is your authority for this!?!” - well, the Cardinal, I’d assume, since they are his guards. Oh bear of very little brain!

Fleur and some other runaway girls are found sleeping in a secret chamber and Ninon is arrested for abducting them.

Athos is all like “you said she wasn’t here” and Ninon tries to explain that Fleur did not want to be found and begs “make them stop” to which Athos replies “sorry, I can’t”, his voice and face making it very clear that he doesn’t want to. Because a woman lied to him! This is the worst crime! Really Ninon is lucky she’s being arrested right now, otherwise she’d end up swinging from a tree.

“Four young women! In their nightwear! I can only speculate as to the horrors they have endured!” - Richelieu really has a bee in his bonnet about lesbians. The days before p*rnhub must have been hard for a catholic cardinal. 

Luca is even worse thou! “Your majesty is joking but Satan is real! And his female familiars are everywhere amongst us.” Jesus christ guys, calm down! Have a wank or something!

“She had the girls, she lied, she brought her fate on herself.” - Oh shut up Athos! Not everything is about you and your relationship issues! As Aramis points out. Thank you, Aramis! And I never believed I’d ever say that.

Ninon/Aramis  > > > > > > > > > > Ninon/Athos

Aramis gives Ninon the cross Anne gave him. This is quite sweet!

“It’s not so easy when you don’t have money” Constance says and she is right. But it’s like the show is saying that the only way women can be independant is if they are independently wealthy like Ninon. But that’s not really true, Fleur could get a job such as a seamstress or pharmacist or grain merchant or actress or even as a secretary now that she knows latin and greek thanks to Ninon. Women did have jobs in 17th century France and even belonged to guilds etc. Not saying that Fleur would not be more financially secure still with a husband, but if she really doesn’t want that she has options and I don’t like how this supposed “feminist” episode constantly erases women’s actual history. 

Fleur’s father rages “what does she need an education for? She’ll be a seamstress until she’s married and then she’ll be a dutiful wife and mother.” But if he is Bonacieux’s cousin then they are in the same social class, that is to say, the merchant class. And merchant women had to keep their husbands’ shops when their husbands were away. They needed to know how to read and write and do sums. They needed this to be an attractive marriage prospect to a husband of their own social class! 

And the father wants to hit Fleur and D’artagnan all heroically threatens him. How boring!

Richelieu: “Many of our young women are educated. It’s not something we’re ashamed of.” Fleur: “Not just embroidery and sewing.”  Me: “WELL OF COURSE NOT!!!”

Then Fleur says Ninon taught them the “secrets of our bodies” and Richelieu is a hound on the scent!

“Be quiet or you’ll be gagged!” - Again Armand, this is neither the time nor the place to indulge your kinks. 

ENTER MILADY! 

She does such a brilliant job of her testimony! This is again her lying about rape and I talked about before why that is bad, but in this case I don’t mind cause it’s for state reasons and doesn’t in any way invalidate her own story the way the thing with D’artagnan does.

Athos completely LOSES HIS SHIT!! Not doing the defence any good there, buddy!

The look she gives him as she walks out is priceless!

Queen Anne to the rescue, bringing clemency from Louis! Clever girl, must have manipulated it out of him! Season 1 Anne was intelligent.

And Ninon ruins it by saying: “I have never consorted with the devil until this moment. I am looking at him.” To which Richelieu replies: “Condemned from her own mouth.” As any person with half a brain would. Jesus christ Ninon, you should have been gagged! For your own safety! 

And then Richelieu stops breathing! And we get Treville’s reaction to it, thank you camera people! Thou Treville mostly just looks confused, like “what is that drama queen doing now?” 

Now he’s twitching! And I’m sorry but it looks hilarious.

Aramis carries him to bed on his back and puts a hand over his mouth. I’m not sure that helps with the breathing issues... 

Louis pushes Aramis out of the way and cries “please don’t die! please don’t die!” aawwwwwwwwwww!

Aramis really saves his life here, huh.

Anne is briefly jealous about the cross and asks Aramis if Ninon is his lover. Lol! She never expected him to stalk her for the rest of her life, she fully expected him to keep lovers.  

Luca: “Satan turned his blood to acid at her command!” Porthos: “We’ll add Satan to the list of suspects.”

Fleur: “You think I poisoned him?” Constance: “That’s the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard even by musketeer standards.” - THANK YOU CONSTANCE!

Fleur is to be married to a 40 year old butcher. Poor girl!

“Was it you?” - LOL!

“Half the doctors say you’re doomed, the other half claim you’ll make a full recovery. There’s a lot of professional pride at stake.” - Milady is very funny too! But I’ve always known that! 

“Whatever happens to me, I want you to extract this confession from Ninon.” - translation: it doesn’t matter if I die, the main thing is that France gets that navy. For France, always. I’m amazed by how much he trusts Milady here thou.

Milady thinks the kneebone of St. Anthony is gross and “as much use as the doctors”. Bless her!

Constance very sweetly talks Fleur’s father out of forcing her to marry. Go Constance!

Ninon: “There is nothing worse than a woman who betrays her own sex” Milady: “I can think of a few things, but let’s not argue.” - THIS!! This is my favorite part of this whole miserable episode, because yes, with her background she can think of things Ninon couldn’t possibly imagine. It’s also a fuck you to that “don’t encourage girl on girl hate” line terfs and white feminists always hide behind when they get called out on their bullshit, though this wasn’t the point here. I love how she doesn’t even explain, too. Let’s not argue, cause what’s the point. You’ll never get it.

I do want to stress that Ninon is not wrong for educating other women and she has been unjustly condemned (althou I would argue that she might not have drawn Richelieu’s ire if she went about it in a more subtle, less smug way, for the safety of the girls she teaches if not for her own). But Milady is employed by the First Minister of France and is doing her job here, a job which she depends upon for her own independence and safety. As she says, Ninon didn’t do anything to her, she’s just a victim of circumstance. 

“If you don’t confess, the women of your salon will burn in your place. Surely you wish to save the lives of your accomplices in Satan?” - Milady does a good job of selling it, but if you think about it, that makes no sense. These women have already been publicly proclaimed Ninon’s victims. And if they have legal trouble with burning her alone, how would they manage a whole bunch of them, most of whom are also high ranking noblewomen?

Ninon falls for it thou. Fail!

Richelieu orders Ninon burned and Milady says that the Queen and King won’t like it. Richelieu replies that: “she’s irrelevant and a new navy will soothe his dismay.” He’s really underestimating season 1 Anne here. But season 2 will prove him right, sadly.

“The kingdom of heaven is a dream. Our only life is here.” - Go Milady!

Richelieu says he won’t burn her for heresy but to be careful cause “one day someone else might” and idk, but it comes across like pretty friendly advice, considering what he’s currently doing with Ninon. 

Now he worries he might go to hell! And Milady says he’s already there, lmaoo! I LOVE THIS SCENE!!

They go to the morgue to retrieve Luca’s bag and discover that the thief was poisoned in the same manner as the Cardinal. Thus the plot is uncovered.

“Open his mouth!” “You open his mouth!”

Luca kills a red guard and is about to kill Richelieu (who fights him with a fork!) when the musketeers burst in. And Richelieu curses them for being late!

Richelieu had apparently worked out that it was Luca who was trying to kill him at some point during the night. No idea how. 

Athos begs for Ninon’s life while the pire is already burning. And Richelieu agrees cause burning her is all very “dark ages”, like he said to begin with. He says he’s not a cruel man, just a practical one. But practicality sometimes requires cruelty. He’s not a sadist thou, that’s what he meant and that’s true. 

Athos drags Ninon off the burning pire. So the great feminist character got duped by Milady and then had to be rescued by her love interest. So good, much feminist. 

“As far as the world is concerned, Comtesse Ninon de Laroque died on that pire today.” Richelieu takes her lands, her property and her money and sends her into exile. Then he threatens to execute her if she ever tells anyone the truth of what happened.

“My voice will never be silenced, but I promise you will never hear it.” - the stupidest line of the whole episode and that’s saying something. Seriously, what does this mean? Your voice was silenced! Richelieu got your wealth which you could have used to educate more women. You were completely defeated. Like really, who is the idiot who wrote this? And what made them think this is in any way empowering or even just a satisfactory conclusion to Ninon’s acr?? Ughhhh!!

I do love Richelieu and Milady getting a rare victory thou! 

“Nothing, no person, no nation, no god will stand in my way.” - HOT!

Aramis gets his cross back lol. Otherwise it would have burned. 

Lmao, Richelieu sends Luca’s ashes to rome with a threat to the Pope.

And Capaldi pronounces “Richelieu” in a very strange way. 

Milady: “You do realise you’ll never be Pope?” Richelieu: “It’s an Italian club and largely a clerical position. I prefer something with a little more influence.” - L! O! L!

Ninon plans to open a school for poor girls and be a teacher. Well, idk, I hope she does a better job of it than she did with Therese.

Athos asks Ninon if “Madame de la Chapelle” ever told her anything about herself. And Ninon is like “so you did know her after all?” and he says “in another life” and she warns him to be careful because she has the cardinal’s protection so “a blow against her is a blow against him” and idk, does she realize that Milady was Athos’s wife here? Is that how I’m supposed to read it? He did tell her before that he used to be married.

Then she kisses him and tells him she could have loved a man like him. And she’s just way more into him than he is into her.

Lmaooo, Fleur is not forced to marry and can continue with her education and she’s “sure” that the woman who convinced her father was Ninon. And Constance doesn’t correct her and doesn’t even want the credit, but I’m mad lol, as if Ninon even remembers you exist Fleur!

D’artagnan gives Constance the credit, at least! And then comes his declaration of love, which is actually very sweet and I really liked them together in season 1! Constance is so beautiful in this scene too! It’s very well lit and she’s wearing that lovely dress!

Aaaaand we fade to black on some PG13 kissing and groping! Sorry, this was very long, but there was a lot to complain about.

In conclusion, awful! Like, the thing that bothers me the most is that this token girl power episode would not even have been radical in 1970, never mind today. The message is simply that women should have an education, which no sane person today would disagree with. It’s very safe and bland. And erases women’s real history in the process. It’s almost as if these male writers are congratulating themselves “weren’t things ever so bad Back Then, we are so much more progressive now”, instead of doing the truly radical thing and showing women’s real history, showing women in positions of power running their literary salons and not getting burned for it, showing women as independent businesswomen with an education! Why not give Bonacieux a female rival in the cloth business? Why not go deeper than “women are human beings” and give the episode a truly radical message that still resonates today. After all, we might be ever so educated now but it’s not like women have achieved equality. More on that in this old post: https://kuningannasansa.tumblr.com/post/126434697304/the-problem-of-ninon 

Anyway, I really hope the next episode will be better! 

Red Guards killed: 1 or 2, impossible to really tell

Ladies killed: Therese

Best Dressed: Ninon. She did have some pretty dresses. 

#the musketeers #bbc musketeers #cardinal richelieu #milady de winter #anti ninon #musketeers rewatch