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tammyhybrid21 · 1 year

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Respect, Recognition and Contribution

SO HI.

It has been... a hot while since I posted in general let alone any of my long ramble analyses... but Yeah. So I saw Tadeo Jones 3 in the cinema. Two times actually, would have gone more but well health and time and just-- it didn’t happen. And I have quite some thoughts about it, but most of these will be under a cut just for those who’re still somewhat attempting to avoid spoilers.

Although before all that, I can at least do a “bonus round”-- I feel kind of sorry for Sara. Because wow, she is honestly the main if only person in the main cast who is secure in her place and position in the world... and also the only character who feels completely Neurotypical... Which is a whole other breakdown I’ll save for later... if I remember.

Respect

Soooo, first up. I’ll say this. The whole movie has a kind of, “Could have avoided this plot” feeling to it. I mean, there’s a number of aspects to this but the main thing is the Trio.

These three dweebs. They’re not so normal either, but-- They’re pretty effectively what set the plot off. Also they’re disrespectful as anything, the game has a take on them as well. But I’m not really sure how much of that can be actually applied to the movie. But these three, they’re what sets the whole plot in motion with two overall decisions. There’s the most obvious one at the start of the movie, throwing Tadeo off the team and then further not giving him even a passing mention.

It wouldn’t have been perfect. They do have points that are 100% valid about Tad and his issues. But they definitely could have avoided some of the plot’s pitfalls just by a mention and been less horrible. On that matter, the way they mock Victoria is the second “could have avoided this plot” moment. Because here’s the key about the tablet, and even some hints throughout the whole movie. Repeated a few times is how the tablet wants to be found. Notably mentioning alongside that it will use whatever it can to achieve that...

Victoria’s had a piece of the tablet the WHOLE movie. And the tablet in the climax is mentioned to specifically show you what you want. It takes advantage of those who’re vulnerable. Now our friend Victoria went through two phases of seeking acknowledgement and recognition. While her stated goal doesn’t change I would like to claim that wasn’t the only part-- but this is more about the second part. Because those three, Ryu, Bryan and Ann mocked her, opening her up to be even more vulnerable to the tablet’s influence.

Which is more about respect, not just recognition.

These three disrespect people. Even Sara on some level how they grumble and demand that she follow along. MOSTLY Ryu. And the game even expands that by claiming that they cheated their way into their accomplishments. I don’t know how much I put stock into that, but it’s something to note down anyway, and might explain why they act like that, but at the same time they take things seriously despite that. It’s just the treatment of those around them that they view as lesser that’s an issue.

Contrast with Sara who even if she’s not 100% back to been entirely happy with Victoria she’s involving her in what’s effectively Victoria’s expedition. Sara still stands up and defends her, even if it’s not perfect and lined with doubts. She’s at least hearing Victoria out and there’s input both ways... which leads me to my second thoughts. BEFORE this whole expedition and the trio been... the trio. Victoria felt early on less like she actually wanted to prove the existence of the tablet as much as she wanted to work with and be friends with Sara again.

--And of course, moving on, there’s direct parallels/contrast with Tad’s own reaction. I don’t really want to be mean to him, but-- Tad’s first impression ALSO isn’t the greatest when it came to Victoria. It’s not completely terrible, but Victoria even noted it in how she told him not to worry, she already knows she has a poor reputation. But beyond that there’s how Victoria tells him to tell Sara, not to go off and do-- what he done.

Which wasn’t entirely Tad’s fault, that whole situation was a mess of lack of clear communication on a few sides. But the respect part comes in more when you think about it. All Tad had to really do was wait the night. More or less, it wouldn’t have been perfect considering the sarcophagus unveiling itself, but he could have had a proper chance to talk about the issue with Sara, although yeah. He’s very validly frustrated, because the trio made him so... but that doesn’t excuse any of what follows because that’s all from him basically transferring down that disrespect.

Recognition

Soooo let’s go back a bit. While I didn’t mention him in the Respect section, Hermes definitely was biting because the Pharoah didn’t give him any respect as the tablet’s creator. More explicitly though the legend says he was tired from the lack of acknowledging his merits. Which is more a recognition thing. Hermes made the tablet, he was the reason that everything was so good, he wanted to be acknowledged and that’s incredibly valid.

We all want to be recognized for our contributions, whether this is something great or something that’s just small. Hell even our pets enjoy been recognized, dogs, cats, birds and yes even rats.

Sometimes I wonder if it’s not especially rats, but that’s an aside. Recognition comes in so, so many different forms. From just the recognition between friends, to been famous or infamous. In the end, Hermes did get his recognition, for better or worse, I don’t know if he would have been happy with it. But he’s there to help set up and echo the theme that carries for the rest of the movie.

But specifically here, I want to contrast him and his story with the other Egyptian character we got this movie.

Ra-amon-ah, Ramona. She’s very clear with her stated wish and goal. She wants to be made famous, acknowledged for her three day long rule. Which I am torn personally between losing it laughing at the length of time, and wincing because yeah. Yeah, that. At the same time, she’s not putting in her own effort to do so. Which is both fair and not, she’s not the most socially adept person at the point we meet her in the movie and also in the game... Which btw, love her whole section in the game so, so much. But that’s its own thing.

Ramona is interesting. She has her stated goal, but more notably, she has the opportunity to get it. While the distraction that whole experience was meant to be failed because of course... It’s still a really interesting insight to everyone involved. First off, Mummy actually, her whole speech from her introduction and all-- he even mimicked how she corrected them, although not perfectly. Which I have way, way too many thoughts to easily translate them down. But the big thing is, even after that she had the opportunity to stay-- she even was going to stay and go to the Cairo Museum...

Meanwhile the game, which we can halfway take as the missing scenes and side for Ramona’s adventure...

Also just, I love the whole arc of this section, but it really can only be taken with a grain of salt because there’s a good portion of events that are skipped over to go from the Boat Chase to this. But in the game she no longer wants to go be famous and known. Which does happen by the end of the movie as well, but I think it’s telling of when/how that happened. In that neither piece of media really explains it, but we do get her saying she wants to explore and see the world by the end of the movie which-- huh...

Seems familiar.

But also this all seems to have been triggered, or meant to be triggered by the more personal acknowledgement. The idea that Tadeo, Mummy and Sara all knew and saw her. Even Victoria on some level by the end, who needs to be world famous when you have close friends who see you?

As an aside, loneliness acknowledged.

Contribution

So, first off, this movie is not a masterpiece regarding this. It’s not a masterpiece regarding any of these themes that carry through. But this is the missing piece of the puzzle and what serves to tie everything together.

Hermes, Victoria, Tadeo.

All three of them had some major contribution that people either stole the spotlight from them on, refused to acknowledge/dismissed or just wasn’t understood at the time. I won’t go through them all because I’ve already said quite a bit about it all. But even off that there’s some other sides I’ve been somewhat skipping/glossing over.

So, Sara huh? Okay, this is more small, but there’s something a bit... funky about how Sara calls Victoria weird at the start of the movie. Mostly because we’ve had-- two previous movies, where she basically saw confirmation on the supernatural before this. Sara also personally knows Mummy. But I guess that doesn’t matter quite as much in the grand scheme, but it definitely needs to be stated because it does contribute to the issues. Maybe much more subtly but Sara isn’t completely clean, at the same time, she was the first to offer an attempt to bridge.

On all ends. But even with more action in the movie she was playing backup/home base support ultimately.

On the other side, I want to talk about Pickles and Ramirez. Mostly because that dynamic was... 100% not what I thought it would be, but at the same time everything I thought it would be. Don’t ask please, I probably won’t make sense. But even there, the issue of contribution comes up, mostly with Pickles contributing basically nothing but taking all the credit he could and man, it was satisfying he basically got sent home to lick his wounds and presumably mope. While Ramirez actually contributed to the plot by listening at the key time... also the one time the trio were actually useful in this movie and not actively making things worse with disrespect.

But none of that really ultimately matters. Because while on that side the spotlight was shared. Sara with Victoria, both of them actually getting to talk, first with Sara listening in the car(btw, major ND vibes from Victoria with how she kind of just expected their friendship to fall back into place like it was never broken)-- and then further at the Louve itself. Following to their own side uncovering the key’s keyhole--

While the police officers both got the opportunity to shine, Ramirez been the absolute best on screen as the straight man to Pickles absolutely insane assumptions and leaps of logic...

There’s the issues on Tad’s side of the “party”.

And this is where the theme runs into a case of pulling up short.

Closing the Loop

So, the theme is etched into every piece of this movie. It’s so much tighter than both the first movie and leagues above the second that juggled too much and dropped at least half of what it held. So what’s the issue?

We can see all the parallels as they relate to Tad easily. He wants to be taken seriously and acknowledged just like Victoria. He wants the respect and fame he feels owed that the trio have kept from him in this movie-- and he just wants to know he’s done a good job. He wants to be in the limelight like Ramona does when we first meet her.

At the same time, he fails to see that he’s doing the same with Mummy. Here’s the thing, the plot also wouldn’t have happened if not for Mummy been there. While Tad did open the sarcophagus the biggest breakdown of communication was with Mummy there, also why didn’t he get to use his “dead tongues” joke and knowledge like from movie 2? But here’s the thing-- when Mummy unlocks the padlocks in that scene he specifically says he gets it.

Which can be interpreted in a few ways, either it means the credits from Movie 2 happened in some form, or you know-- Tad leaving him in the apartment for 2 months alone really felt like chains holding him there. Also Mummy repeats a couple times he just wants to have adventures with Tad. Their relationship as its set up in the movie is supposed to mirror Victoria and Sara’s...

So why doesn’t this feel like it hits quite the same beats?

So, here’s the thing, this moment is supposed to be the turning point for Tad’s own priorities starting to shift. This moment here, where he swaps from been primarily self-interested to at least partially including Mummy... And I know it’s supposed to be the turning point, because after this is the big fallout and there’s even more focus on the way he feels like he’s failed and just put everyone in danger BUT-- IT doesn’t land. Doesn’t work for one main reason.

The character focus in this movie on Tad’s side is just... too much on Tad. I can see what they’re going for, I can see and reach out, touch and hear this theme so strongly. But-- it doesn’t quite stick the landing for a lack of expansion. Victoria got the chance to long to reconnect with Sara, to have moments to shine independent and make decisions that showed she was just as capable if specialising in a completely different area.

Tad and Mummy though... Those moments were either skipped over, or given to Tadeo outside when Mummy got to put his acting and theatre nerd on display. Which I love, but even I can acknowledge it’s not really enough, especially when he’s still not given all that much time to shine when paired with Sara and Tad uncovering the true map to the tablet... But I can see where it was meant to reflect. And yes, Tad really owes a proper apology.

“I don’t want to be a BURDEN on ANYONE!”

As an ND person myself ouuuuuch. That hits so hard, but at the same time, not hard enough just because of the surroundings. It’s not lingered on, it’s a scene that is important and yet, not enough. And maybe that’s just me, maybe it’s because I’m a writer myself and I make stories, maybe it’s because I’m Autistic and I love Mummy because I see my autism in him-- But, this doesn’t linger because all around it, before and after, Mummy’s role in the movie has been a lot less than I hoped.

Hecc even the Ammut curse wasn’t as in depth as I hoped, but that was more my mistake hoping that some of the judgement stuff would show up ahahah. But here’s the thing. Before this, there’s a scene that on rewatching more it’s like; Why did they need to show this when it’s something we could infer just as easily-- and we could have had a much more interesting scene if they gave us a discussion and interaction between Mummy and Ramona? The other mirroring characters. Explicitly mirroring characters. Who didn’t get much interaction together in the end at all...

The scene I mean, Tad finding the key. Literally that could have been replaced with Mummy and Ramona talking, the whole Mummy “honor system” of staying where they were told as well. Locked away and secret... and even between that. Between these moments, when Mummy became their flying Taxi, it would change nothing, everything if he got to suggest it as a plan before Tad lost it on him, the dialogue Tad says wouldn’t even necessarily have to change so much...

The meaning, the emotions would still be there, whether prompted to it or not. But it would give everyone involved some much needed agency. And thus tie more heavily into the theming of the movie as a whole. Because while I see it, it’s still pulled short. It’s not incomplete, it’s just not as much as it should be...

On the other hand kudos for this whole sequence and the following. Because when those screenshots initially leaked I thought that it would be your traditional ideal daydream and much earlier. But then it showed up and man... yeah, they really did have the attempt there. But it still has missing pieces.

Whether those pieces are Mummy been allowed more agency later on in the movie, having a quiet moment outside of just following Tad around or you know, Tad giving a proper apology. It’s complicated.

The Tablet

Here’s an interesting digressing sidenote. But the tablet itself and the way it’s handled in the movie seems to heavily imply that it has its own sentience and its own ideas on what the world should be. It is stated throughout that it wants to be found, it lures people in with their dreams and their “heart’s desire” only failing with Tad because his priorities had shifted just ever so slightly-- and it’s also always there.

If you’re paying attention at times Tadeo’s eyes get slightly greener tinged when events are playing out. And Victoria’s are even more obvious about it. As well, Mummy whenever he transforms, he’ll usually have his eyes turned green under the tablet’s power until it fails and he returns to normal.

It’s even noted in the backstory flashback by them making Hermes’ eyes that bright neon glow green.

Makes you wonder really.

#Tadeo Jones #THybrid Jones #Tad(The Protagonist)#Mummy(Tadeo Jones)#Sara Lavroff #Victoria Moon #Ramona(Tadeo Jones)#I watched it twice in the theatre #And I have so so many thoughts #I'll be doing more analysis eventually #Especially with the themes #The hug was a start #but a real apology is still needed #As well some spotlight sharing #Also more screaming about autism will come

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petnews2day · 2 years

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Banks less generous with home loans | News

New Post has been published on https://petnews2day.com/pet-industry-news/pet-financial-news/banks-less-generous-with-home-loans-news/

Banks less generous with home loans | News

“If a customer was offered a loan of €100,000 last year, their salary, provided it has remained unchanged, would only get them a loan of €80,000 today,” said Tanel Rebane, head of private banking at Luminor. Because real estate prices have not gone down to any notable degree yet, this has moved some properties out of people’s reach.

The Bank of Estonia has stipulated that an individual’s loan obligations must not exceed half of their regular income. Commercial banks often take a more conservative approach and set the limit at 40 percent. Banks also look at how much money a person would have left for paying bills and buying food after making their loan payments.

“Because the cost of living has gone up, many people who still qualified for a loan last year might no longer qualify today as they have less in the way of reserves. That is the main factor affecting lending,” Rebane said.

Demand down, supply up

Does this mean we will see a dip in real estate prices next? Rebane said that while it is possible, things also depend on the property, developer and how quickly the latter wishes to sell. But demand will fall notably, with supply growing.

“There is more real estate on the market compared to last year, as high prices have motivated those who were holding back to sell. Soaring energy prices mean that simply holding on to real estate has become insensible as utility costs still need to be paid,” the banker said.

The last two years have seen real estate prices grow by 20 percent. While analysts agree the current dip in prices will continue, opinions differ on whether the downturn will match the previous high.

“Recent prices make it impossible to describe the situation as a market slump; rather, we are talking about normalization,” Tanel Rebane suggested.

Rising Euribor factored in a decade ago

Catlin Vatsel, head of private financing at LHV, said that their maximum loan amounts have also shrunk as virtually all expenses have grown for families. “We need to keep these things in mind when issuing loans and do it responsibly,” she said.

The banks have been counting on the Euribor starting to rise at one point for the last decade, Vatsel emphasized. “Banks must calculate home loans with a rate of 6 percent that includes Euribor at 4 percent.”

Swedbank is the only major bank in Estonia that has not altered its home loan conditions, its head of housing loans Anne Pärgma said. She added that Swedbank sports a personal approach in cases where people are between homes and have to service two loans at the same time. “That is when we will take a look at whether we think the person will be able to handle both loans for a period.”

Another thing that Swedbank is keeping an eye on is private residences that are still under construction as prices are in flux. “We calculate the minimal construction cost and make sure people have a buffer should the project end up more expensive,” Pärgma explained.

Sille Hallang, head of SEB’s private banking division, said that the bank has not altered home loan conditions. “But because inflation has resulted in much higher everyday expenses, loan sums offered to customers have indeed changed. We make sure borrowers have enough income left for everyday expenses after servicing their loans.”

Interest in home loans down

The number of new Loan applications is falling in tandem with loan sums on offer. Applications are down 30-40 percent depending on the bank and time period.

Swedbank had around 1,000 loan applications in the works earlier this year, while the figure has now dropped closer to 700, while actual interest might be more modest still, Pärgma suggested.

“The applications also reflect people wanting to understand how the market works, what to prepare for etc. Not every application means the person is about to commit to a transaction,” she added.

Catlin Vatsel for LHV said demand is down 30 percent since this summer, both on the real estate market and for loans.

Tanel Rebane said that the situation is more or less the same at Luminor. He added that most people buy a home when they need one, not when the time for it is good or bad, for which they need to be given good advice by the bank and take a realistic look at their needs.

The banker said that when Euribor was negative, people got used to only looking at the relatively modest margin of banks. But loans are becoming more expensive now and decisions really need to be thought through.

“One solid recommendation is that a person’s home should not cost more than their income over five years. If that is so, the customer will be able to service the loan even if Euribor hits 3 or 4 percent,” he explained.

Estonia’s demographic situation is another concern for banks, Sille Hallang explained.

“The most active borrower is 26-35 years old, which age group will shrink by 20 percent between 2021 and 2026. That is another indicator affecting the home loan market. We are simply running out of borrowers.”

Borrowers able to service loans

All commercial banks told ERR that their portfolios are performing nicely and solvency problems have not become more common. Hallang suggested that while SEB is not seeing changes in its portfolio, it cannot be ruled out that high utility costs are yet to hit home.

Catlin Vatsel from LHV said that deposits have grown threefold since the last crisis. Talen Rebane offered that Luminor remains confident as it has pursued a considerate loan policy and is sure its portfolio has people who can afford to service their loans.

Bank representatives agreed that there will not be a repeat of the previous financial crisis and banks will not have to foreclose on people’s homes as both banks and borrowers are much better prepared.

“I believe that no bank wants to start evicting people from their homes,” Hallang said. She said that if people find servicing loan payments has become difficult, other expenses should be revisited first and people who are experiencing problems should contact the bank immediately.

“The sooner we learn of payment difficulties, the better,” Hallang said, adding that a solution can be found in most cases. “But this requires the customer to work with us and not disappear.”

Loan conditions not about to change

Representatives of commercial banks said that loan conditions are not likely to become even tougher in the future as banks already sport extremely conservative approaches.

“We have never issued loans lightly,” Anne Pärgma said for Swedbank. “Lending has been, is and will remain responsible, with a conservative approach built in.” She remarked that it is possible the difference between how much banks are willing to loan the same customer might be smaller in the future.

—

Follow ERR News on Facebook and Twitter and never miss an update!

#Pet Financial News

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thekingofwinterblog · 2 years

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Day 2 - Favorite Character

Amphibia has a plethora of great Characters, with the Calamity Trio and Andrias being as well developed characters as Avatar ever had(Which is impressive. Most western animated shows since then, tend to only have one or two truly outstanding characters, while Amphibia has 4, and unlike nearly everyone else, it has no bad characters). So the question is then, which i find most compelling and interesting?

The answer in my case is the human mess that is Sasha Waybright.

I have always had a soft spot for characters who deeply cares about the people around them, but are absolutely terrible at showing it, always messing up because of their own flaws as people, and Sasha might be the single best example of that archetype i've ever seen.

Sasha, like any great protagonist, is someone who defines the idea of "The Human Heart At Conflict With Itself", with her two defining traits: her deep, burning, passionate love for the people she cares about, and her deep fear of not being in control constantly warring inside of her.

Sasha is someone who has an amazing ability to make people love her, and one thing i absolutely love, is that her assessment in "Prison Break" that if you get someone to love you, they'll do ANYTHING for you, goes both ways.

Because if Sasha loves you, she will die for you. No questions asked.

Which is juxtaposed with her greatest flaw. Because for all that Sasha's powerfull love for other people being one of her defining traits, her greatest flaw is her fears.

Like Marcy, Sasha's greatest fear is being alone, but while Marcy's fear is rooted in her personal inability to make new friends, and the sense that Anne and Sasha are the only people who will ever accept her, Sasha's fears is rooted in her fear of not only being alone, but that she deserves to be alone.

Sasha is willing to go incredible lengths for the people she loves, but at the same time, she NEEDS to feel validation from them.

Sasha's deep rooted control issues are rooted in 2 overall big personal flaws, both originating in the split up of her parents, and the disintegration of her relationships with both of them.

Sasha is so dependant on the people she actually loves and care validating her efforts, that the moment it seems to her they reject her, she feels like they're attacking her personally.

That she wasn't good enough, that they can get by without her, and thus she is unimportant to their lives. Just like she feels she was ultimately unimportant to her parents.

"Not while Anne and Marcy are getting by without me!"

Sasha is terrified of the past repeating itself. Of the people she loves moving on, and leaving her behind. That she deserves to be left behind, and that she is not worthy of being loved.

And so she overcompensates. She demands people always listen to her, never giving an inch of compromise. And so she always ends up gripping what she has so tight that it breaks, again, and again.

She just wants what is best for everyone! Why can't they see that!?

But love is about more than just wanting what is best for everyone. It requires compromise, talking things out, and above all, respecting the wishes of the people you love even if they don't always line up with yours.

Despite all her good intentions, she always ends up hurting the people she loves, because if she isn't in control, then things might go "Wrong". They might repeat themselves, and she might become alone again.

And so it all comes crashing down eventually, when Sasha finally overstep herself one time too many, in a cruel, calculated manner and Anne, the person she loves more than anyone else, has finally had enough.

And she tells her in no uncertain terms that Yes, you are a horrible person. You are awful. You don't deserve my love.

This is the moment Sasha's entire journey has been building up.

She is at the top of the world! Having finally achieved the level of control that only a monarch has. And then, Anne crushes her completely and utterly.

In one short conversation, Anne brings Sasha to complete Rock Bottom as all her worst and deepest fears come true all at once. And worst of all, she knows Anne is right. This IS her own fault.

It takes the rest of the day and night to sink in, but she knows.

The thing about hitting rock bottom though, is that when you hit it, you have nowhere to go but up.

Sasha's entire journey up until "True Colors" is her internal conflict between her love for others, and her desire for Control.

And in the end, she came to the conclusion that control, the means to feeling safe, was meaningless, and redundant. Sasha always had Anne's love, her endgoal. She didn't need to prove herself worthy of it. And by tring to control everything, she in the end, only became someone who was unworthy of Anne's love.

And so she resolves herself to be better. She makes the choice to change. To take the step into becoming worthy once more of the love and adoration that Anne had for her.

Sasha's journey is my second favorite of Amphibia as a whole, and i love her internal conflict with herself, and the way it always blows up in her face as she makes mistake after mistake, until finally, she reaches a turning point where she has lost everything, and resolves herself to be better.

My favorite aspect, is her relationship with Anne and all it's many, many aspects for good or ill.

And as such, she is my favorite character.

#amphibia #sasha waybright #anne boonchuy #meta #amphibia week #favorite character

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midautumnnightdream · 3 years

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Friendship

For Cosette Appreciation Week

If she was to be perfectly honest, Cosette wasn’t sure she liked the convent of Petit-Picpus all that much.

It was important to be Perfectly Honest: Mother Innocente had said as much, when she showed Cosette around the classrooms and the dormitories and explained all the Rules a schoolgirl must concern herself with. Being honest must have been the most important Rule of them all, for Mother Innocente had mentioned it no less than three times, her dark eyebrows forming a severe line under her coif as she peered down to Cosette.

(“Don’t lie to me, you little wretch” Madame had said, and truly Mother Innocente was nothing like Madame at all, except for the eagle sharpness of her gaze, the lightning abruptness of her movements and Cosette –)

Cosette had bowed her head and nodded and smiled and understood.

She had been nodding and smiling ever since she bade farewell to papa and uncle Fauvent earlier, promising to have fun and make friends and to study well. She had nodded and smiled though Mother Innocente’s lecture, and through introductions to the eight curious-eyed schoolgirls waiting in her dormitory, thankfully already in their beds, and to Mother Saint-Ange, who came to wake them in the morning and asked if she was settling in nicely.

(Cosette thought of the worry in her papa’s eyes, when he first explained that the convent was to become their new home. She thought of their nighttime flight through the streets, as strange and wondrous as a dimly recalled dream, and the odd adventure with uncle Fauvent’s melon basket. Madame was looking for her, papa had said. Madame was outside the convent and must be looking for her even now.

Honesty was important, Cosette understood. She also understood that to say Right Things was even more important.)

The dormitory was filled with chatter of eight sleepy little girls, going about their morning procedures: one struggling with her dress buttons, two braiding each other’s hair, several more grumbling over the early hour as they made their beds. Cosette, already dressed, hovered uncertainly by the window, casting wistful looks at the gardener’s hut, just visible in the predawn light of early March, as she tried to ignore the curious glances thrown her way. Papa had tried to comb and braid her hair, she recalled, during their first days in Paris. However not even the most gentle teasing could untangle the knots, let alone the sticky patch that papa had declared with some wonderment to be stained with wood resin. He had seemed so terribly sad when he cut her hair, despite Cosette’s assurances that she didn’t mind at all.

All the same, she thought with a pang, it would be nice to have someone make her braids.

It wouldn’t be so bad, she thought to herself, as Mother-Saint-Ange came back to usher the group to their morning prayers, if she could live in the little house with papa and uncle Fauvent. She liked the gardener’s hut; it was small and warm and cosy, much cosier even than their room in the Gorbeau house. The convent was too big, too dark, and filled with strangers – far more strangers than Cosette had expected, she realised as they entered the church. She kept an eye on her companions, carefully copying each action, but her mind was much too preoccupied to focus on prayer. She wondered if her papa was present in the church, in some secret corner out of sight of the students. He must be, she decided, and allowed herself to relax into the moment of imagined closeness.

All too soon the girls were sent to their way towards refectory. Cosette trailed after her dormitory mates, anxiously aware of the whispered conversation that had broken out and the glances thrown her way. She crumpled her apron tight between her fingers as she steeled herself for the inevitable encounter.

If Cosette was Perfectly Honest – and Mother Superior had been very insistent on that point – this merry group had worried her more than the nuns, or echoing corridors, or the looming promise of the lessons that she felt terribly unprepared for. Certainly, the nuns intimidated her, but she knew, knew that they were nothing like Madame, that papa would never leave her someplace terrible, or allow another adult to hurt her. But the girls were a different matter. Cosette had listened to their conversations, peppered with references to things she knew nothing about, observed their manners and the games they played, and had instantly understood that these girls were true little ladies like ‘Ponine and ‘Zelma – perhaps even more so. Surely these girls could tell that she wasn’t like them, that she didn’t belong here – and once they realised that, well. At best they would simply dismiss her like the children in Montfermeil, and ignore her until she inevitably got in their way, but then? Certainly they would complain to the nuns about having to share their room with l‘Alouette, the werewolf child, and she would be punished for lying, maybe even thrown out and sent back to Madame?

This won’t happen. Cosette reminded herself. Papa would never allow it. If the nuns don’t let us stay, we’ll just have to run away again. Thus reassured, she felt almost ready to face the tribunal, when one of the girls exclaimed “Well, just ask her!” and turned to face Cosette.

Cosette slowed. The girl was three or four years older than her own peers, and judging by the avid gazes following her progress, a subject to some interest. The solemnity of her gaze was rather reminiscent of the prioress; she stopped in front of Cosette and demanded:

“Crickets or spiders?”

Cosette blinked.

The girl’s lips twitched ever so slightly, but her serious gaze didn’t waver.

“Do you prefer crickets or spiders?”

Cosette rallied herself. “Crickets,” she said.

The girl grinned. “That’s well! You will come join us in the Cricket Corner. We’re closest to the kitchen.”

Cosette blinked again. “Will there be... crickets there then?” she asked, feeling a bit foolish.

Her new companion only smiled amiably. “There might well be. There might be caterpillars and wood-louses too. Possibly spiders. You’re not afraid of spiders, are you?”

Cosette shook her head. “Not at all,” she answered, more or less truthfully. She wasn’t afraid of spiders, not really, but something about watching the flies twitching and trapped in their webs gave her a funny feeling.

The older girl smiled her approval. “That’s good,” she said, and then added. “I’m Anne-Marie Bouchard.”

She then continued to introduce every girl who followed them into the Cricket Corner, before pointing out and naming a number of pupils from the other tables who she declared to be “of interest.” Cosette, seated between Anne-Marie on her right hand and her dormitory mate Jeanine on her left, tried her best to keep up with the sudden flood of information, until paternoster put an abrupt end to all conversation.

The breakfast itself was a hushed affair, not even a whisper interrupting the story of Saint Genevieve, read by one of the big girls from a pulpit under the crucifix. Cosette considered her new friends with a mixture of bafflement and gratitude as they ate, her natural shyness warring with the urge to offer them something, to give back a little bit of the kindness and trust that was extended to her.

“Do you know, I always quite liked crickets,” she eventually confessed, as the pupils gathered around ronds d’eau to wash their cups. “I used to listen to them when everyone had gone to sleep, and sometimes I thought, if I followed the crickets, they would take me to my mama.” She flushed and fell silent.

However, her story seemed to delight Anne-Marie. “Adventure! Oh but I like this!”

“Were you fostered in the country too then?” asked Jeanine. “I used to live in Montmartre for years. My brother Alain, he was terribly sickly when he was born, so we were both sent to live in a vineyard. But mama still came to visit us all the time. Did your mama not visit?”

“My mama is dead,” replied Cosette.

“Oh!” Jeanine flushed. “Is that why you stayed fostered for so long?”

“Yes that’s why,” Cosette said, then added, as a guilty tribute to honesty “I didn’t like it there. Living with papa was much better.”

“It is a pity,” Jeanine sympathised. “I really missed Montmartre at first, and then I missed living with my parents. When I first came here, I cried all night! But I got used to it, and now I’d miss the school just as much!”

“Ah children! you’re easy to please!” said Anne-Marie a little dryly. But upon seeing the expressions on the younger girls’ faces, she relented a bit. “All the same, it’s truly not so bad, this place. You can have a lot of fun here, if you let yourself.”

Perhaps sometimes, Cosette reflected, Perfect Honesty simply meant repeating the Right Things until you could make them become true. “I’m sure I will,” she promised.

#Cosette Week #Les Miserables #Les Mis #Les Mis fanfiction #Cosette #Petit Picpus #Autumn writes

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impalementation · 3 years

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spike, angel, buffy & romanticism: part 2

part 1: “When you kiss me I want to die”: Angel and the high school seasons

“Love isn’t brains, children”: Enter Spike as the id

For all that I’ve just discussed all of the ways that the first three seasons subvert the romance of Angel, it’s also true that the writing still fundamentally takes him—and Buffy’s relationship with him—seriously. To some degree it has to. Because Buffy is the show’s emotional anchor, if the writing didn’t take her emotions seriously, the audience wouldn’t either. It needs to be sympathetic to her (regardless of whether it endorses her, per se), or else it would run the risk of losing all pathos. Making fun of Buffy and Angel makes for a great gag in “The Zeppo”, and fits with the general way that season three undermines the romanticism of them, but if that was the show’s attitude the whole way through, it would come off as simply meanspirited. It would seem like it was making fun of Buffy for being a stupid teenage girl in love, instead of sympathetically depicting the human experience of being caught up in big, tempestuous emotions.

But at the same time, if the writing were to only take romance seriously, that wouldn’t feel very true either. Or fit with the general Buffy ethos, which loves to flip between serious and silly moods in order to capture all sides of whatever it’s exploring. And therein is the magic of Spike’s addition to the chemistry of the show. Practically from his introduction, Spike parallels Buffy’s romantic storylines, except unlike Buffy, Spike is allowed to do the comic or morally incorrect thing. His status as a soulless vampire means that the show is free to use him to point out both the sillier and darker sides of romance, without tainting Buffy’s heroism or the seriousness of her emotions.

In “Becoming, Part 2” for example, Spike is free to explicitly say that he’s saving the world because he wants Dru back, and leaves Buffy to die once he’s gotten her. Whereas Buffy, despite also wanting the person she loves back, ultimately chooses to save the world rather than keep him. Spike allows the episode to show what Buffy’s, or anyone’s, romantic id might want, without Buffy herself going through with it. He also allows the episode to show the ridiculousness of the romantic id, by giving him comic moments like “Didn’t say I wouldn’t”, or “God, he’s going to kill her”, or beating Angel with a tire iron, or any of the times that Buffy makes fun of him (“The whole earth may be sucked into hell and you want my help ‘cause your girlfriend’s a big ho?”). All of which is in contrast to the tragic seriousness of Buffy’s heartbreak. Spike in season two is not a character without pathos; in fact, he has quite a lot of pathos that parallels Buffy’s--think of the tortured close-up on his face as Angel and Drusilla taunt him in “I Only Have Eyes For You.” But neither is he limited or defined by that pathos.

He plays a similar role in both “Lovers Walk” and “The Harsh Light of Day”. In “Lovers Walk” he’s devastated by the loss of Drusilla, as Buffy was devastated over Angel in “Anne”, yet the way they get out of their respective depressions is very different. Tonally, “Anne” plays Buffy’s misery extremely straight, and when Buffy decides to stop moping and become an agent in her own life again, her version of “agency” means getting in touch with her leadership and heroism. Whereas for Spike, agency means a love spell, or torturing Drusilla into liking him again. The romantic id tries to re-possess the object of its desire, whereas the ego or superego is able to set that desire aside, whether or not it wants to. More obviously, Spike in “Lovers Walk” parallels all of the other characters and their romantic situations. All of them are behaving somewhat selfishly or self-destructively in their love lives (Xander and Willow cheating, Buffy and Angel torturing themselves with friendship) but are in denial about the fact that they’re doing so. And then Spike blazes in with his version of love that is selfish, scary, grandiose, charming, pathetic, genuine, and absurd by turns—and suddenly, everyone’s romantic weaknesses are out in the open. It makes perfect sense that Spike finishes the episode gleeful and optimistic, because “Lovers Walk” as a whole represents a triumph of the romantic id over the romantic ego, if only temporarily. And it’s all handled with a brilliantly whiplash-y mix of comedy and tragedy because at the end of the day, the power of the romantic id really is ridiculous. The way that Spike turns on a dime between being scary and pathetic parallels the way it’s at once absurd, and kind of frightening, that your id would make you, say: cheat on your wonderful high school boyfriend, just to have a chance with your childhood crush.

Because Spike is often treated as the show’s romantic id, the writing’s relationship to his romanticism gets complicated. Like Angel, there is something romantic in his aesthetic and behavior, even if he doesn’t look like Angel’s conventional Byronic hero. He wears a long, dramatic coat, poses rebelliously with his cigarettes, and dotes on his paramour with the elaborate attentiveness of Gomez Addams. But unlike Angel, he is not just a romantic symbol or object, he is also a romantic subject. That is to say, Spike’s romantic storylines tend to emphasize his romantic desires, and use those desires as motivation. By contrast, Angel’s storylines don’t really have much to do with whether he’s “gotten” Buffy or not—instead they have to do with whether Buffy has gotten him. The fact that Buffy and Spike are both treated as romantic agents in this way is a key indication that the two characters are meant to parallel each other. Angel’s side of the Buffy/Angel romantic storyline has to do with whether he can control himself around Buffy, whereas Buffy’s has to do with whether he likes her or wants to be with her. Similarly, Spike’s romantic storylines hinge on the status of whether Drusilla or Buffy want him.

Not only is Spike a subject when it comes to romantic relationships, he’s also a subject when it comes to Romantic thinking. He is a character practically defined by his romanticism. He aspires to romantic things, and therefore can be used to poke at romantic outlooks. Despite his grand love for Drusilla for instance, she still cheats on him, and he still has to knock her out, do a love spell, or torture her to get her back. Or he’ll make grand pronouncements that are immediately followed by things like getting tasered by the Initiative or falling into an open grave. Because of this, Spike is able to parallel Buffy’s Romantic thinking as well, not just her romantic desires. Notice how in “The Freshman”, when Buffy is feeling out of touch with her Romantic Slayer self, that she has a scene where she’s treated like Spike--she delivers a dramatic threat and then falls through a ceiling. Or in “Some Assembly Required” when she obeys her id and hotly demands that Angel listen to her, she falls into an open grave. This kind of comedy has a lot in common with the deadpan Angel humor discussed in the last section, but notice that the target of that humor is Angel’s romantic objecthood rather than an outlook Angel has. Angel’s role, when it comes to romanticism, has to do with how Buffy and the audience sees him, whereas Spike’s role (at least in the early seasons) has to do with how Spike sees, period.

The show doesn’t just poke at Spike’s outlook though, it also uses him to poke at other people’s romanticism. In season two, for example, Spike is the one who gets impatient with Angel’s grandstanding, sarcastically explaining that “we do still kill people, you know” and “it’s a big rock.” In “Lovers Walk” he’s the one who cuts through Buffy and Angel’s drama, reducing it to “googly eyes” with a dismissive handwave (while also building it up in his projection-y “you’ll never be friends” speech). In “Something Blue” he points out that Willow is barely holding it together. In “Pangs” he’s the one who brings the debate over the Chumash nihilistically back down to earth, and in “The Yoko Factor” he schools Adam on Yoko not really splitting the Beatles apart. In other words, Spike attempts to see both the romance and the reality of things. He is the avatar of both, which I would argue makes complete sense, because in many ways romance and reality are really two sides of the same coin. Poetry and stories are fake and bigger than life, but you use them to tell truths. But being the id, his point of view can be hypocritical and biased as much as insightful, just like anyone’s gut reactions and poetic notions can be. After all, you can use poetry to tell lies, too.

Lastly, on a meta level, there is a tackiness to Spike that undermines his romantic qualities better than making him dangerous ever could. Spike likes Passions and Dawson’s Creek (in contrast to Angel reading La Nausée by firelight). He lives in a crypt, but the vibe is more “homeless” than “Dracula” (in contrast to Angel’s tastefully decorated apartment). Spike may act like a romantic, but what does it say about how romantic romanticism really is, that the romantic things he likes can be so unrefined? And with the chip, he’s rendered impotent and pathetic. To me, there’s no more perfect image of how the writing uses Spike than the image of him in his black coat, red shirt, and big, leather boots, blasted under the fluorescent light of his Initiative cell. Light that makes his aesthetic seem suddenly fake and silly and surreal. For all that the writing subverts Angel, he is still the kind of character who gets to disappear mysteriously into the shadows, because he is the romance that Buffy has been forced to abandon. Whereas Spike is left with no place to hide.

If Angel represented the idea of binaries, then Spike represents the lack of them. There is a reason that Spike invites so many queer readings. He is a vampire, but he loves. He is an object, but he’s a subject. He tells the truth, but he lies. He is a villain, but he is a hero. He is masculine, but he is feminine. He is insightful, but he’s a fool. He is pathetic, but he is sympathetic. He is on the outside of the Scoobies, but he is on the inside. These aspects of him are not split between different personas, but exist within him simultaneously. It is telling that the show introduces human, mythos-bending vampires like Spike and Dru in a season about disillusionment, and it is telling that Spike’s role in the show becomes ascendant in the seasons after Buffy leaves Angel and his split personality behind. As Buffy begins to reckon more deeply with her id, and her dualities, she will begin to reckon with Spike.

part 3: “Something effulgent”: Season five and the construction of Spike the romantic

#romanticism series #buffy #spike #angel #s2 #s3 #s4 #gen #btvs

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shredsandpatches · 2 years

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sunday snippet (we two alone will sing like birds i'the cage edition)

Ended up taking the week off from writing because three days of final rehearsals and a concert (and also a job interview) was pretty demanding. I've still got plenty of content, though, so here's a bit from the tail end of the appellant crisis drama llama dinner party (seen previously in this space).

Richard sighs and buries his face in his hands. “Is this it, then?” he says. “Are you going to let them depose me?”

Neither Henry nor Mowbray answers. Richard can hear Anne’s sharp intake of breath, beside him; she takes his hand and clasps it in both of hers.

“My lord of Derby,” she says. “My lord of Nottingham. My husband cannot ask you this. He is the King, and he has his pride. But I beseech you. I beg you. Do not proceed in this. For his sake, but also, for your own. For the sake of both of your souls.”

Henry and Mowbray exchange a long glance. “I can’t promise they’ll listen to us,” Henry says. “Well, Warwick might. He’s not as committed to deposing you as the other two. You probably have him to thank for the fact that you’re on the throne now.”

“If three of us oppose it…” Mowbray begins. He breaks off, leans back, drinks some wine. “They’ll still expect you to make concessions in the next parliament,” he says. “And they’ll expect you to be there.”

Henry nods emphatically. “No haring off around the country because you can’t be bothered to govern.”

Richard grits his teeth. Anne presses his hand tightly between hers, and after another moment, he says, “All right. Tell them I’m willing to listen. But remind them—” He swallows, for the next thing he has to say is a bitter pill. “Remind them that whatever they do, they will have to answer it when your father returns.”

Henry has that puckered expression again. It may or may not be a good sign. Richard looks at Anne, who is watching Henry and Mowbray intently. Her face looks pale and strained; he is fairly sure he looks the same.

“We’ll talk to them,” Henry says, finally. “But don’t think you’re out of trouble, even if you stay on the throne.”

Richard squeezes his eyes closed, wishing more than anything he could punch Henry right in his stupid sanctimonious face. As if he knows anything about governing—as if he would do any better with half a dozen uncles and the English nobility breathing down his neck all the time because they don’t approve of his friends. He thinks he’s better than Richard because he’s won one battle that was hardly even a battle, and because he has two sons and Richard has none, as if that’s enough to make someone a king. He would go mad within days if he ever tried it.

Instead of saying any of this aloud, he says, “I am grateful, cousin. I will try to govern better henceforth.”

“We’ll see about that,” Henry says.

When supper is over and they have gone, and the servants have cleared the table, Richard remains in his seat, staring past the door as if he could somehow follow them as they report back to Gloucester and Arundel. Not that he has any desire to see Gloucester and Arundel at the moment. He slumps forward, burying his face in his hands.

Anne’s arms wrap around his shoulders, then, and he can feel her press her cheek to his hair and smell her faint scent of orangewater and rosemary. She has been magnificent tonight—Richard half believes that she could make even Gloucester see reason. No wonder they refused to admit her to the meeting.

“Come on, miláčku,” she says. “We should pray, and drink some wine, and go to bed. You barely slept last night.”

Richard opens his eyes, takes her hand, and showers it with kisses. Then he turns in her arms and leans up to kiss her lips. “You’re right, of course,” he says. “You were wonderful tonight, you know. You make me think that perhaps God doesn’t mean to cast me down entirely.”

Anne smiles down at him. “I am your queen, and your wife, and it is my duty and my calling to support you—but most of all, I love you,” she says. “I only hope it will be enough.”

“I can’t believe our safety now depends on Henry Bolingbroke’s fear of his father,” Richard says. “I’ll write to him in Spain as soon as I can. Gaunt will be over the moon about how badly things have gone for me without him, I expect. Maybe he’ll just wait for them to have me killed so he can take the throne for himself when he gets back. I suppose that at least whatever he does to Gloucester will ease my pains in Purgatory.”

“Do not speak that way, my love,” Anne says. “You will not see Purgatory for many years, if it is in my power.” Her brow furrows and she shakes her head impatiently. “I cannot believe their impudence,” she adds. “They have no right to treat you this way.”

Richard’s lips twist into a sad smile, and he rises to his feet and embraces her. “No,” he says. “They don’t.”

“Are you all right?” Anne says, reaching up to caress his face. “This has been hard enough for me. I cannot imagine how hard it is for you.”

“When you are at my side, I feel like I can fight this,” he says.

“You will,” Anne says, smiling at him. “And I will stay by your side, and fight it with you.”

She stays by his side that night, and throughout the next day. It is almost peaceful—indeed, it is peaceful, except for the part where a coalition of five noblemen is elsewhere in the Tower determining their fate. They stay in bed well into the morning; it is a cold day and the snow lies thickly on the ground and on the walls and windowsills. Richard has moments when he thinks that perhaps being imprisoned for the rest of his life wouldn’t be so bad, if he were allowed to stay with Anne. They could keep them in the little manor house he’s had built for the two of them at Sheen, on an island in the Thames. It’s almost completed, after four years of construction, a private retreat for the two of them. Richard thinks he could live out his life quietly there, with Anne, and let Gloucester and Henry and the others bear the burdens of kingship. The people would come to hate them soon enough.

He knows, though, that it is only a fantasy. Deposed kings don’t get to live out their lives in peace in beautifully furnished manors. His great-grandfather had died in agony in a dungeon. They say you can still hear his screams when you go there. Why would Gloucester and Arundel show him more mercy than that?

#the novelthing #sunday snippet #richard ii #otp: my derlyng is a bundel of myrre to me #i heart anne so much #and so does richard

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sixth-light · 3 years

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Hi! I admit I went lurking in your lgbtqia tag, and somewhere in the tags you said that while you are a cis woman you know this because you consciously thought it through, and I would like to ask about it if you don't mind (feel free to ignore this if you do). So, how did you go about it? If I start to think about it I always end up thinking that if you strip away all stereotypes and physical attributes there's nothing left, and I could best describe my experience with gender as (1/3)

„society said I’m a girl and I don’t care enough to say otherwise”, like I don’t have any reason to think I’m not cis but when I think about what makes me a woman I can’t come up with anything other than „they said so”. I didn't want to ask a trans person about it, because when I put it like this it seems really dismissive of what they go through, and on top of that I really don’t want to be *that person* by seeming like I’m demanding that they validate their identity to me when I just (2/3)

get stuck not even halfway through my thought process about this, and I’ve had like multiple crises over this, so I’d like to get this over with if I can. This seemed like my best chance to get an answer without possibly hurting someone, so I will be very grateful if you can answer me, but don’t stress about it if you can’t or don’t want to. (And thank you for reading through this novel-length ask in the first place, really, and sorry for loading all of this on you. Crises, as I said…) (3/3)

(cut because this is gonna get a bit rambly)

First up: I think if you’re having multiple crises about gender it’s ok - in fact imperative - to ask questions about it, you’re not dismissing anybody else’s experience. I hope this answer helps you in some way.

The tl;dr is that, as trans people have taught us, the primary symptom of being [gender] is wanting to be [gender]. The long answer is...longer.

I totally get where you’re coming from on “if you strip away all stereotypes and physical attributes there's nothing left”, but I don’t quite think it’s true - at least not in the way I interact with gender - and I’ll try and break down why.

The thing is, gender is more or less fake. And when I say it’s fake I mean that it’s a very broad-brush system of grouping people which is made up in order to explain, very generally, who people are when you don’t know much else about them. And as a tool that is used to group people on an extremely broad level, it is inextricably intertwined with and born of whatever society you and your gender are operating in. So to start with, you can’t really consider gender outside of society. For me, it doesn’t mean anything when you take it out of the context of interacting with other people. Having (or not having) a gender matters because it’s a way of telling people something about who you are.

In terms of figuring out what things about you say what your gender is - I think of it like...there’s a big bucket of all the attributes people can have that are used to assign them a gender, or for them to pick that gender. Two people from the same society/cultural background will broadly agree on what goes in which bucket, and what the buckets are called. The more different your society and cultural background is, the more different the contents of your buckets are. Some stuff that’s in one bucket for your culture might be in a different bucket for another culture (like colours). What the buckets are and what’s in them changes over time. And, to make it even more confusing, no one person’s gender is made up of all the same attributes from that gender’s bucket, even comparing them to someone of the same gender who agrees with them totally on what the buckets are called and what can be in them. And lots of attributes are in multiple buckets! They can make someone feel lots of different genders depending on the person doing the feeling.

So, ultimately, gender for me is both incredibly, incredibly personal and totally inseparable from my cultural background. And that means that yeah, some of the bits that feel to me like they make me a woman are about my body or ‘stereotypical’ things - and that’s totally fine as long as I don’t make the mistake of thinking that this means someone for whom a DIFFERENT set of attributes makes them female is ‘wrong’ about that. Or the mistake of thinking that the things that make *me* feel like a woman are automatically female attributes for someone of a different gender.

For example, for me I feel the ability/possibility of bearing children is pretty strongly tied to my gender - but I know nonbinary people and men who’ve borne kids, and they’re not women. And I know lots of women who don’t want to or can’t bear kids, and they’re definitely women. So as a marker of femininity, it’s not much use to generalise with. I can only say it’s in my particular gender bucket.

So, having worked through that - and because, like you, I started at ‘well I was assigned female at birth and I don’t disagree’ - I gave up on trying to think about gender as a question of specific attributes. I think of it as: does it make me feel good to be assigned as a woman, in this society I live in, and would it make me feel bad to be assigned as a different gender?

And the answer to both is yes. I like being perceived as female! I feel happy and affirmed in myself when I tick “F” on a survey. I feel more secure in female-dominated spaces. I want to be a woman, it makes me happy to be one, ergo I am one.

Moreover, I don’t want to be perceived as another gender - I point out that I’m a woman if someone’s ever unsure. This was really brought home to me, don’t laugh, when I did a playthrough of Stardew Valley and accidentally made my character male (I get the little symbol confused shush they’re very similar) and spent the entire run through being upset whenever my character was addressed in-game as “Mr Anne”. I wasn’t a Mr! I didn’t want to be! It did not feel good! I have been misgendered occasionally IRL but only for momentary interactions, not persistently - I didn’t realise just how much I wouldn’t like it even in this very harmless context.

But, here’s the thing: I’m not totally sure that I would be a woman or be so confident about being perceived as one if I lived in a society that had very different gender buckets, or put different things in them. I’m a cis woman because I align with the category of ‘woman’ as determined by 21st-century Aotearoa New Zealand. Would I be a woman in, IDK, second-century Scotland? Fucked if I know. And that’s fine, because like I said: for me gender is specifically a way of telling the society you live in something about who you are. I want to tell people I’m a woman, it makes me happy to do so, so I am one; and I was raised as a girl, so I’m a cis woman. It’s as simple and complicated as that.

#lgbtqia #gender #be glad I spared you all the Venn diagrams #Anonymous

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dwellordream · 3 years

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“Henry's marriage to Catherine had long since grown cold. Though his wife remained, and would remain, loyal and devoted, Henry was in very different case. The raptures of the early days had faded and the consequent demands upon him for self-discipline and generosity had found him wanting. Catherine was five years his senior. In I527 he was still in his prime, in his mid-thirties, she over forty. As king he could satisfy desire all too easily, for who would refuse a king easily, especially a king such as he? Fidelity was rare among monarchs and the temptation besetting him, in particular, strong.

At first Henry had been a gallant husband. Catherine had accompanied him to every feast and triumph, he had worn her initials on his sleeve in the jousts and called himself 'Sir Loyal Heart'. He had shown her off to visitors, confided in her, run to her with news. Though there had been talk of a lady to whom he showed favour while campaigning in France, he had slipped home ahead of his army and galloped to Catherine at Richmond in order to lay the keys of the two cities he had captured at her feet.

We cannot know when he first succumbed to the temptation of adultery, but it must have been within five years of his marriage, when there appeared on the scene one Elizabeth Blount, a lady-in-waiting of Queen Catherine and a cousin of Lord Mountjoy - and she may not have been the first. She caught the king's eye during the New Year festivities in I5I4, that is, shortly after he had returned from the first campaign in France. Bessie Blount eventually bore him a son, in I519. Subsequently she married into a gentle family, the Talboys of Lancashire, with a dower of lands in that county and Yorkshire assigned by act ofParliament. Hers, then, was a fate less than death; and her son, the duke of Richmond, was occasionally to acquire considerable political and diplomatic significance.

Next there was Mary Boleyn, since 1521 wife of William Carey, daughter of a royal councillor and diplomat, and sister of Anne. That Mary was at one time Henry's mistress, and this presumably after her marriage, is beyond doubt. Years later there was a strong rumour that she too had born Henry a son, but we cannot be sure. Anyway we may guess that the liaison was over by l526, and when her younger sister climbed on to the English throne, with perhaps pardonable pique, she dismissed Mary from the court. The latter was to do well enough, with her family at the centre of affairs during the reign of her niece, Elizabeth I - which was more than could be said of Bessie Blount. And finally there was Anne, Thomas Boleyn's younger daughter.

Following in the wake of her sister, who had been in the entourage that accompanied Mary Tudor to France in 1514, Anne had crossed the Channel about 1519 to enter the household of Queen Claude, wife of Francis I, an amiable lady who had several young girls in her care and supervised their education. The newcomer to the royal school must have been about twelve years old. She stayed in France until the out- break of war in 1522 and then came home, by which time she was on the way to becoming an accomplished and mature girl. She does not seem to have been remarkably beautiful, but she had wonderful dark hair in abundance and fine eyes, the legacy of Irish ancestors, together with a firm mouth and a head well set on a long neck that gave her authority and grace.

On her return, if not before, her future had apparently been settled, ironically by Henry and Wolsey. She would marry Sir James Butler, an Irish chieftain and claimant to the earldom of Ormond, to which the Boleyns, rivals of the Butlers, had long aspired. Anne was therefore to mend the feud by uniting families and claims. Had this familiar kind of device been executed, and had this been the sum total ofher experience ofhow marriage and politics could interweave, things might have been very different for England, if not for Ireland. But Butler's price was too high and Anne remained in England.

Her father, aided perhaps by her grandfather, the second duke of Norfolk, had meanwhile brought her to Court, as he had her sister before her. There she eventually attracted attention, first from Sir Thomas Wyatt, the poet, a cousin of hers; then from Henry Percy, son of the earl of Northumberland and one of the large number of young men of quality resident in Wolsey's household. Alas, Percy was already betrothed. At the king's behest, Wolsey refused to allow him to break his engagement and, summoning him to his presence, rated him for falling for a foolish girl at Court. When words failed, the cardinal told the father to remove his son and knock some sense into him. Percy was carried off forthwith- and thus began that antipathy for Wolsey that Anne never lost.

But it may well be that, when Henry ordered Wolsey to stamp on Percy's suit, it was because he was already an interested party himself and a rival for the girl's affection of perhaps several gay courtiers, including Thomas Wyatt. The latter's grandson later told a story ofhow Wyatt, while flirting once with Anne, snatched a locket hanging from her pocket which he refused to return. At the same time, Henry had been paying her attention and taken a ring from her which he thereafter wore on his little finger. A few days later, Henry was playing bowls with the duke of Suffolk, Francis Bryan and Wyatt, when a dispute arose about who had won the last throw.

Pointing with the finger which bore the pilfered ring, Henry cried out that it was his point, saying to Wyatt with a smile, 'I tell thee it is mine.' Wyatt saw the ring and understood the king's meaning. But he could return the point. 'And if it may like your majesty,' he replied, 'to give me leave that I may measure it, I hope it will be mine.' Whereupon he took out the locket which hung about his neck and started measuring the distance between the bowls and the jack. Henry recognized the trophy and, muttering something about being deceived, strode away.

But the chronology ofAnne's rise is impossible to discover exactly. All that can be said is that by I525-6 what had probably hitherto been light dalliance with an eighteen or nineteen year-old girl had begun to grow into something deeper and more dangerous. In the normal course of events, Anne would have mattered only to Henry's conscience, not to the history of England. She would have been used and discarded - along with those others whom Henry may have taken and who are now forgotten. But, either because of virtue or ambition, Anne refused to become his mistress and thus follow the conventional, inconspicuous path of her sister; and the more she resisted, the more, apparently, did Henry prize her.

Had Catherine's position been more secure she would doubtless have ridden this threat. Indeed, had it been so, Anne might never have dared to raise it. But Catherine had still produced no heir to the throne. The royal marriage had failed in its first duty, namely, to secure the succession. Instead, it had yielded several miscarriages, three infants who were either still-born or died immediately after birth (two of them males), two infants who had died within a few weeks ofbirth (one ofthem a boy) and one girl, Princess Mary, now some ten years old. His failure to produce a son was a disappointment to Henry, and as the years went by and no heir appeared, ambassadors and foreign princes began to remark the fact, and English diplomacy eventually to accommodate it, provisionally at least, in its reckoning.

Had Henry been able to glimpse into the second halfofthe century he would have had to change his mind on queens regnant, for his two daughters were to show quality that equalled or outmeasured their father's; and even during his reign, across the Channel, there were two women who rendered the Habsburgs admirable service as regents ofthe Netherlands. Indeed, the sixteenth century would perhaps produce more remarkable women in Church and State than any predecessor - more than enough to account for John Knox's celebrated anti-feminism and more than enough to make Henry's patriarchal convictions look misplaced. But English experience of the queen regnant was remote and unhappy, and Henry's conventional mind, which no doubt accorded with his subjects', demanded a son as a political necessity.

When his only surviving legitimate child, Mary, was born in February 1516, Henry declared buoyantly to the Venetian ambassador, 'We are both young; if it was a daughter this time, by the grace of God sons will follow.' But they did not. Catherine seems to have miscarried in the autumn of 1517 and in the November of the following year was delivered of another still-born. This was her last pregnancy, despite the efforts of physicians brought from Spain; and by 1525 she was almost past child-bearing age. There was, therefore, a real fear of a dynastic failure, of another bout of civil war, perhaps, or, if Mary were paired off as the treaty of 1525 provided, of England's union with a continental power.

Catherine, for the blame was always attached to her and not to Henry, was a dynastic misfortune. She was also a diplomatic one. Charles's blunt refusal to exploit the astonishing opportunity provided by his victory at Pavia and to leap into the saddle to invade and partition France had been an inexplicable disappointment. Of course, had Henry really been cast in the heroic mould he would have invaded single- handed. But established strategy required a continental ally. Eleven years before, in 1514., Ferdinand of Spain had treated him with contempt and Henry had cast around for means of revenge, and there had been a rumour then that he wanted to get rid of his Spanish wife and marry a French princess.

Whether Henry really contemplated a divorce then has been the subject of controversy, which surely went in favour of the contention that he did not - especially when a document listed in an eighteenth-century catalogue of the Vatican Archives, and thought to relate to the dissolution of the king's marriage - a document which has since disappeared - was convincingly pushed aside with the suggestion that it was concerned with Mary Tudor's matrimonial affairs, not Henry's. Undoubtedly, this must dispose of the matter even more decisively than does the objection that, in the summer of 1514, Catherine was pregnant. In 1525, however, the situation was different. Charles had rebuffed Henry's military plans and, by rejecting Mary's hand, had thrown plans for the succession into disarray.

For a moment the king evidently thought of advancing his illegitimate son - who, in June 1525, was created duke of Richmond. But this solution was to be overtaken by another which Henry may have been contemplating for some time, namely, to disown his Spanish wife. Catherine, therefore, was soon in an extremely embarrassing position. Tyndale asserted, on first-hand evidence, that \Volsey had placed informants in her entourage and told of one 'that departed the Court for no other reason than that she would no longer betray her mistress'.' When Mendoza arrived in England in December 1526, he was prevented for months from seeing the queen and, when he did, had to endure the presence of Wolsey who made it virtually impossible to communicate with her. It was the ambassador's opinion that 'the principal cause of [her] misfortune is that she identifies herselfentirely with the emperor's interests'; an exaggeration, but only an exaggeration.

The king, then, had tired of his wife and fallen in love with one who would give herself entirely to him only if he would give himself entirely to her; his wife had not borne the heir for which he and the nation longed, and it was now getting too late to hope; he had been disappointed by Catherine's nephew, Charles V, and now sought vengeance in a diplomatic revolution which would make the position of a Spanish queen awkward to say the least. Any one of these facts would not have seriously endangered the marriage, but their coincidence was fatal. If Henry's relations with Catherine momentarily improved in the autumn of 1525 so that they read a book together and appeared to be very friendly, soon after, probably, Henry never slept with her again.

The divorce, which came into the open in early 1527 was therefore due to more than a man's lust for a woman. It was diplomatically expedient and, so some judged, dynastically urgent. As well as this, it was soon to be publicly asserted, it was theologically necessary, for two famous texts from the book of Leviticus apparently forbade the very marriage that Henry had entered. His marriage, therefore, was not and never had been, lawful. The miscarriages, the still-births, the denial of a son were clearly divine punishment for, and proof of, transgression of divine law. Henry had married Catherine by virtue of a papal dispensation of the impediment of affinity which her former marriage to Arthur had set up between them.

But Leviticus proclaimed such a marriage to be against divine law - which no pope can dispense. So he will begin to say. And thus what will become a complicated argument took shape. Henry had laid his hand on a crucial weapon - the only weapon, it seemed, with which he could have hoped to achieve legitimately what he now desired above all else. How sincere he was is impossible to determine. More than most, he found it difficult to distinguish between what was right and what he desired. Certainly, before long he had talked, thought and read himself into a faith in the justice of his cause so firm that it would tolerate no counter-argument and no opposition, and convinced himself that it was not only his right to throw aside his alleged wife, but also his duty - to himself, to Catherine, to his people, to God.

At the time, and later, others would be accused of planting the great scruple, the levitical scruple, in Henry's mind. Tyndale, Polydore Vergil and Nicholas Harpsfield (in his life of Sir Thomas More) charged Wolsey with having used John Longland, bishop of Lincoln and royal confessor, to perform the deed. But this was contradicted by Henry, Longland and Wolsey. In 1529, when the divorce case was being heard before the legatine court at Blackfriars, Wolsey publicly asked Henry to declare before the court 'whether I have been the chiefinventor or first mover of this matter unto your Majesty; for I am greatly suspected of all men herein'; to which Henry replied, 'My lord cardinal, I can well excuse you herein. Marry, you have been rather against me in attempt- ing or setting forth thereof' - an explicit statement for which no obvious motive for misrepresentation can be found and which is corroborated by later suggestions that Wolsey had been sluggish in pushing the divorce forwards.

Longland too spoke on the subject, saying that it was the king who first broached the subject to him 'and never left urging him until he had won him to give his consent'. On another occasion Henry put out a different story: that his conscience had first been 'pricked upon divers words that were spoken at a certain time by the bishop of Tarbes, the French king's ambassador, who had been here long upon the debating for the conclusion of the marriage between the princess our daughter, Mary, and the duke of Orleans, the French king's second son'. It is incredible that an ambassador would have dared to trespass upon so delicate a subject as a monarch's marriage, least of all when he had come to negotiate a treaty with that monarch.

Nor was it likely that he should have sug- gested that Mary was illegitimate when her hand would have been very useful to French diplomacy. Besides, the bishop of Tarbes only arrived in England in April 1527, that is, a few weeks before Henry's marriage was being tried by a secret court at Westminster. The bishop could not have precipitated events as swiftly as that. No less significantly, another account ofthe beginnings of the story, given by Henry in 1528, says that doubts about Mary's legitimacy were first put by the French to English ambassadors in France - not by the bishop of Tarbes to his English hosts.

He and his compatriots may have been told about the scruple or deliberately encouraged by someone to allude to it in the course of negotiations, but did not invent it; nor, probably, did Anne Boleyn - as Pole asserted. It is very likely that Henry himselfwas the author ofhis doubts. After all, he would not have needed telling about Leviticus. Though he might not have read them, the two texts would probably have been familiar to him if he had ever explored the reasons for the papal dispensation for his marriage, and he was enough of a theologian to be able to turn to them now, to brood over them and erect upon them at least the beginnings of the argument that they forbade absolutely the marriage which he had entered.

Wolsey said later that Henry’s doubts had sprung partly from his own study and partly from discussion with 'many theologians'; but since it is difficult to imagine that anyone would have dared to question the validity of the royal marriage without being prompted by the king, this must mean that the latter's own 'assiduous study and erudition' first gave birth to the 'great scruple' and that subsequent conference with others encouraged it. Moreover, Henry may have begun to entertain serious doubts about his marriage as early as 1522 or 1523, and have broached his ideas to Longland then - for, in 1532, the latter was said to have heard the first mutterings of the divorce 'nine or ten years ago'.'

By the time that Anne Boleyn captured the king, therefore, the scruple may already have acquired firm roots, though probably not until early 1527 was it mentioned to Wolsey who, so he said, when he heard about it, knelt before the king 'in his Privy Chamber the space of an hour or two, to persuade him from his will and appetite; but I could never bring to pass to dissuade him therefrom'. What had begun as a perhaps hesitant doubt had by now matured into aggressive conviction.”

- J.J. Scarisbrick, “The Repudiation of the Hapsburgs.” in Henry VIII

#henry viii of england #j.j. scarisbrick #history #tudor

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startanewdream · 3 years

Text

Into her sleep

This is me writing Hinny smut (or any kind of smut) for the first time, so, you know, be gentle? Thoughts and suggestions are appreciated!

And because I can’t write pure happiness, it’s more of an wankst (wangst?) than anything else.

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Summary: “...after a while Harry found himself taking it out simply to stare at Ginny's name in the girl's dormitory, wondering whether the intensity with which he gazed at it might break into her sleep, that she would somehow know he was thinking about her, hoping that she was all right.”

In which, unlike Harry thought, Ginny was not sleeping.

Rated M, so below the cut:

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It’s well past midnight when Ginny finally finishes her shower and leaves the bathroom. For a few seconds, she just stands on the door, hearing the soft breaths of her sleeping friends, but her eyes are on the two empty beds. Anne and Janet didn’t return to Hogwarts this year. They are both Muggleborns; she hopes, as she does every time she sees their beds, that they just fled with their families.

The alternative is too painful to think about.

And if there is something Ginny’s been understanding lately is pain.

Not that she should be complaining today. By Alecto Carrow’s standards, her detention was easy, but then Alecto is much more smooth than her brothers. Alecto likes her venomous words and, unfortunately, she had finally heard more about Ginny’s relationship with Harry.

Ginny supposes she was lucky if there is such a thing in her life now. But she had three free months in Hogwarts without the Carrows knowing more of her connection with Harry than the fact that her family was close with him; why Snape didn’t mention it to them - or why he didn’t question her himself - she is too tired to guess.

She should’ve known there was something weird when she entered that room on the fifth floor and Alecto was waiting for her with a sweet smile. Ginny had faced other detentions with Alecto - she’d endured a few rounds of the Cruciatus Curse, had felt the pain of a quill cutting her skin, had blacked out once after being thrown in the room - but she had never feared Alecto as then, with that smile that did not fit the room with chains and spots of blood.

‘You’ll clean up today. Muggle style, since you love them so much’, Alecto had said, pointing to a bucket and a mop.

After so many detentions, Ginny just nodded. She knew that her silence annoyed the Carrows more than when she’d scream to them, so she just concentrated on her task, trying to stop her thoughts of who had been bloodied in that room. Not a pure-blood, sure, they were so protective of them. Maybe a First Year, someone who was as innocent as she'd been before the darkness had tried to wrap her…

‘I heard you used to date Harry Potter’, Alecto said then, and when Ginny didn’t answer, she snorted. ‘Maybe you forgot to mention early when I asked you about him’.

Ginny tried to control her breathing. She’d know a moment like that would come up sometime.

‘It was nothing’, she said without looking up. ‘We were just messing around. He dated other girls’.

The truth is far from it, but Ginny expects her apathy is enough to convince Alecto.

‘I see’, said Alecto and for a second Ginny thought she had believed. ‘So he just used you then he dumped you’.

That was low and they both knew it; there was no good answer for Ginny, so she just kept her head down, trying to clean the floor as fast as she could.

‘Boys are after one thing only, you should have known better’, Alecto continued, and Ginny could hear the mocking tone in her voice, could now understand her sweet smile. This was her real punishment. ‘You’ll be lucky if any Pureblood accepts you after you are… profaned’.

Ginny bit her lips to keep from screaming with so much strength she felt the iron taste of blood on her mouth. Alecto was talking as if Ginny was dirty and no matter the fact that she and Harry never had time to really be together, she knew that nothing she’d ever do with Harry would be stained.

But Alecto didn’t deserve to know anything about her relationship with Harry. That was one thing that nothing - not Tom, not that Dark Regime, not the Carrows - would take away from her. The memory of the way his green eyes spark when he laughs. That dimple in his face when he’s smiling shyly. The way his hair is even messier after he lands from a flight. The determined expression on his face the first time they kissed. The way his eyes had darkened that night when she’d opened her shirt, had taken out her bra -

Perhaps it was the fact that it happened also in an empty classroom, a lifetime ago, but somehow this specific memory stayed with Ginny, protecting her almost as a Patronus against Alecto’s increasingly obscene comments. It was almost easy to turn off Alecto’s voice and after that, Alecto’s fun seemed to be dispersed. She discharged Ginny with a disdainful look, but Ginny didn’t notice for once; when she met Neville in the Common Room and he looked at her with concern (that’s the only kind of look they share these days), she’d been almost truthful when she told him she was okay.

‘I just need a bath’, said Ginny, and Neville nodded, understanding.

Ginny stayed under the hot water for a long time, as if the heat could clean away the filthiness that the Carrow’s presence always brought to her - it was worse than the blood that made her scrub her hands almost to raw skin, it was their evil dark magic. It reminded her of Tom’s diary and that’s the worst part for Ginny.

So she concentrated on her memories of Harry, letting the pure raw emotions she’d felt with him draw the heaviness of the day away.

It had worked for her shower, but as Ginny lays down on her bed, closing the curtains around her except for an opening where the moonlight enters, the stress returns as always.

She is tired and she feels tired. She can’t complain, though, because people look up to her to not give up. Neville and Luna are counting on her as much as she’s counting on them. Neither can fall.

But somehow Alecto Carrow’s voice still echoes in her mind and Ginny closes her fists, feeling her fingernails in her flesh, using the pain to draw away Alecto’s laugh that Harry used and dumped her.

‘No’, she whispers, hearing her voice. Her voice is real. Her relationship with Harry was - is - real. ‘He cares for me’.

She repeats it to herself as many times as she can, until Alecto’s voice is far away in her mind, no more than an annoying fly. Quietly, Ginny takes the Gryffindor scarf she always keeps by her bedside and hugs it close to her body, feeling its scent.

Even after five months, the scarf still has Harry’s scent.

She sniffs it, letting that musky smell fill her nostril, until she shamelessly wraps the scarf around one of her pillows, hugging it, pretending it’s Harry she’s with. It’s only imagination, of course - she doesn’t have a memory of sleeping like this with Harry, but she wonders if he would cuddle her, if she would caress his hair until he falls asleep first, if he would wake her with soft kisses - she likes to think she would giggle them, marvelling at the fact they were together...

That’s what hurts her the most. All the questions that she doesn’t have an answer to only because there wasn’t enough time.

When these thoughts come, Ginny admonishes herself. Be grateful for what you had together, she says firmly, and waits for what will come in the future. She can do both.

She bits her lips carefully to not reopen her wound, and she hesitates just one second before grabbing her wand from below her pillow.

‘Muffliato!’, she whispers, pointing from one occupied bed then to the other one, her mind already remembering Harry casting the same spell after pushing her to that deserted classroom seven months ago. Her heart beats faster, just as it had then, thrilled by the fact that Harry was the one being bold then.

He’d been so innocent at first, so careful with her and with her boundaries that in the first weeks it was Ginny that had been the one to pull him into empty broom cupboards, who had coached him to wait for her in the Common Room so they could have a moment together alone on that couch in front of the fireplace.

But that night Harry was the one who had searched for her in the library and had called her for a night stroll. Ginny had accepted eagerly and it had been so worthy.

She touches her lips, feeling the ghost of Harry’s mouth over hers - the moment the door had closed, Harry had spent two seconds casting a protective spell on the door and then he’d kissed her as if he’d stayed away from her for years rather than since breakfast. His mouth had been hungry, demanding, and for once it was Ginny that was matching his excitement instead of the other way around.

‘I’ve missed you so much’, he’d whispered, his mouth inches from hers only enough so those words could slip away, and even then it had sounded more as groan than anything.

Their time together had been scarcely on these last few days, with her exams starting and Harry not wanting to disturb her in this final stage. They had barely a time together - other than a good morning kiss and a brush of lips before she went to bed, exhausted, and Harry had not once complained; he was too noble for that.

The fact that he was asking - almost demanding - a few minutes for them - of her - brought Ginny an elation she’d missed amongst all stress from her exams.

Ginny remembers how she had pressed herself even closer to Harry, and how he had lifted her until she was sitting in one of the tables, with him standing in front of her, their heads for once in the same level. It had been exhilarating, but she had wanted more back then and she wants more now.

Just like that day, her hand trembles slightly when she opens the button of her shirt. With her eyes closed, she can visualize how Harry’s eyes had widened when she took off her shirt, then had darkened when she had removed her bra; he had seemed so torn between his evident desire and his nobility. He had already felt her up during their fumblings on broom cupboards, both above and below her blouse, but this was the first time he was really seeing her naked skin and Ginny would have hexed him mercilessly if he’d dared ruin the moment. Harry didn’t.

She takes off her shirt and the light breeze makes her nipples harden, just how it happened then - or maybe then it was the pure adoration in Harry’s eyes, how he seemed entranced beyond words seeing her naked chest. With an almighty effort, he’d looked in her eyes, asking silently, desperately, if he could touch her, and she had nodded in silence.

Her hand cups her breast, just like Harry did; her hand is less warm than Harry’s had been, but it doesn’t matter. She can reproduce how he’d touched her, carefully as if he thought he could break her - as if he couldn't see the shivers his touch was causing -, before his thumb caressed her nipple; just as before, she lets out a soft moan and the sound excites her now as much as it seemed to excite Harry. Now both of her hands are cupping her breasts, playing with the nipples, letting small waves of excitement flow through her.

She can’t reproduce what Harry did then - how he’d lowered his head until he was kissing her neck, then her collarbone, then the top of her breasts as he’d already done before, enjoying the cleavage of her summer top. But Harry had lowered his head even more, not stopping his kisses, until he’d taken her nipple in his mouth and pleasure had left her out of breath for a few moments, as if there wasn’t anything else in the world but the feeling of his tongue teasing her nipple, his mouth sucking it lightly then harder. She had moaned, not caring of how she had sounded, and Harry seemed to correctly take that as approval; his other hand had gone back to cup her breast, squeezing with the same amount of gentleness and roughness and -

And then they had stopped because there were sounds outside the door and they had thirty seconds - during which Harry thrown his Invisibility Cloak above them - before Filch had opened the door and looked around with mistrust.

But just as Ginny cannot reproduce Harry’s mouth on her nipples, she also doesn’t need to stop now. She wishes there were memories - she certainly tried on his birthday -, but if there aren’t, then she can let her imagination take over of what it would have happened if no one had interrupted.

She lowers her hand, below her waist that Harry had enjoyed holding while they kissed, until her hand slips under her panties. She is not as wet as she can be, but she imagines how Harry would be patient, how he’d be so gentlemanly touching her carefully until he was sure he wasn’t crossing any limits she wasn’t comfortable with.

She touches her more sensible spot, feeling another wave of pleasure, and she wishes it was Harry - with his calloused hands, long Seeker fingers - touching her now, making those gentle circles that make her want more. He wouldn’t know exactly what spot she liked most, but Ginny could show him - and Harry would be an eager student, a fast learner.

If they weren’t interrupted, she thinks she would let him touch her even more; perhaps she would touch him as well, would let him ease the tension and hardness she’d felt during their most passionate make-out sessions. Harry had wanted her, that she knew. She imagines she was still on that table, with Harry standing between her open legs; if she would move her body just a bit forward, she could rub herself on him - Harry would be the one moaning then - and Ginny pretends it’s this she is doing instead of using her fingers.

She slips her finger forward, inside, and now she’s wet, she’s ready for him. She doesn’t think they would go all the way then - Harry would want something far more special than a quickie in an empty classroom -, but she can pretend they are meeting there again, that this is just the umpteenth time that they are doing it, that they can lose themselves in each other. It can be rough, it can be desperate.

She can imagine Harry inside her, how he’d groan and how she’d be moaning with the feeling of him, alive and heart beating and thrusting into her, filling her. She can’t reproduce a feeling she’s only imagining how it would feel, but it doesn’t really matter. She slips out her finger, letting her attention focus on her clit, on that spot where she knows how to touch, how to make her come; for everything else, she and Harry will have time later, and anyway she thinks he wouldn’t mind seeing her giving herself some pleasure. He’d enjoyed it, because that’s who Harry is.

Her fingers move faster in that circle, her breath now coming in short intakes, unstable, and she presses her eyes even more, imagining Harry kissing desperately her lips while he too moves faster, how he’d warn her that he was so close and how she’d kiss him, looking at the desire in his face that matched hers, and say it was okay. She too was close.

For a second Ginny is so fixed on the image of Harry, his brows furrowed while he tries to last a bit longer waiting for her - he’d always wait for her -, that her coming almost surprises her. That final fatal wave of pleasure washes over her and she moans loudly his name - Harry, Harry, Harry - until she feels adrift in the space, as if the only thing connecting her to the world is her finger still touching her clit, pulsing - and Harry, who’d thrust once more and then he’d come, crying her name like a prayer, pleasure and bliss written all over his face.

He’d pressed his lips fervently to hers, unable to properly kiss her; they would hug, hearing each other’s heavy breathes, feeling their racing hearts slowly calming down, and she’d hear Harry whispering to her: Open your eyes, Ginny.

She obeys him without thinking, but all she can see is the canopy of her bed. Harry is not there with her and suddenly everything comes back to her.

She is alone and Harry is just in her imagination. They are even dating anymore. Harry is out there, lost or hurt - never dead, because that is a thought she never lets herself even conjure -, not knowing that Ginny is in Hogwarts dreaming about him, wishing he returns safe, missing him as if he took with him a part of her.

The last bit of that wondrous bliss leaves her and Ginny dries her moist eyes, hating the tears that doesn’t fall. She hugs the pillow with Harry's scarf, closing her eyes and letting herself pretend they are just cuddling, protected in each other's arms.

#Hinny #Harry and Ginny #Smut #Wankst #Wangst #hinny fanfic #t: fanfiction

204 notes · View notes

writings-of-a-hufflepuff · 3 years

Text

Of Bruised Knees and Climbed Trees

Fandom: The Mandalorian

Collection/Series: Western AU- Putting Down Roots

Pairing: Sheriff Din Djarin x Female Teacher Reader

Writer: @writings-of-a-hufflepuff aka @hufflepuffing-all-day-long

Rating: G

Warnings: N/A

Summary: He has always been gentle with the little one’s but it is nothing compared to the sureness with which he climbs the tall tree and gentleness with which he reassures one of your students that they can in fact make the climb down and they’ll be okay.

Notes: We all love papa Din and is there anything sweeter than this guy being all gentle and kind to scared little one’s? Pure dad material.

Archiveofourown

Lunch times at the schoolhouse were never quiet affairs. After eight years as a school teacher you had learnt that if something was going to happen, it was inevitably going to happen at lunch time when the children were out of the classroom doors and in the fresh air. Touch wood, you think touching the wall of the schoolhouse, you had yet to have anything too dramatic happen this school year. There had been no fights between the older boys and girls which had in previous years had a tendency to happen as frustrations and teenage angst boiled over. There had been no major injuries, no children had gone missing at lunch time, and no one had attempted to tattoo another child like Davey McDonald that one year. He had definitely been the source of most of your schoolhouse drama. With him having completed his school last year, perhaps, you thought, this year might prove to be uneventful.

This year had been rather tame and as you stood on the wooden porch of the schoolhouse watching your children make the most of their hour to run, get fresh air, and eat their lunches, you couldn’t help but smile. You watched Grogu, Mary-Beth and Timmy playing at the small pond, more of a puddle really, that rested near the school. Mary-Beth was showing both boys how to skip stones and Grogu seemed impressed every single time she managed to get a perfect skip. Timmy fumbled at his attempt, stone landing in the water with a sploosh!

Your eyes drifted to the older kids, eating their lunch and giggling together in groups. The boys had separated off from the girls, no doubt more and more aware of their differences as courting became a new interest in their eyes. Soon you’d have the usual problems of teenage love on your hands, sweet, but always requiring your eyes to be peeled. While the boys would face no repercussions for a dalliance, the girls would, and you always made sure to keep a chaperone's watchful eye on them each year. Much to their annoyance.

You spotted Jerome sitting on his own, sketchbook and pencil in hand and carefully walked your way over, picking through the rocks and fallen leaves as the weather began to turn colder. He was wrapped up full, only a little bit of his face visible beneath a large scarf and fluffy hat.

“Do you mind if I sit with you, Jerome?”

“Not at all, Miss.” He quickly goes back to his drawing and despite the desire to peek you resist the urge and wait for him to offer to show you, if that were to happen at all. You pride yourself on creating relationships born from trust with your pupils and part of that was letting them come to you rather than demanding they share things. Jerome had become more willing to share his art bit by bit, preening under your admiration and praise and you hoped that it would be enough to encourage him to pursue his dream of art school. You had a few old acquaintances you hoped would be willing to offer him patronage if they saw his work, but that was a few years off and for now, you were just content to provide him with kind words and support.

He doesn’t ask if you’d like to have a look, just shuffles the book over into your lap with a shy look away, not wanting to see your reaction. They’re beautiful little drawings of the world around him. The daisies in the grass, the leaves on the ground, the nearly bare trees. A few sketches of the other children playing. Each has careful line strokes, hashing to shade and a style to them that gives them an almost classical look. Smooth, soft.

“These are beautiful, Jerome! You really have a gift!” You praise him, carefully handing the book back for him to return to his sketching. The two of you fall into companionable silence as he draws and you watch the children around you.

It is when you go to ring the bell to draw them back into class with a ‘Lunch is over, boys and girls! Time to get back to work!’, that you notice a crowd gathering quite a distance away from the school underneath some trees. With a quick request that Jerome keep an eye on the younger children, you stride your way over, hands lifting your skirt from the dirt.

“What’s going on? David, why are you all…” You trail off as you look up to see the exact reason they’re all crowding beneath the tall oak tree.

Lilly-Anne is shaking at the very top, arms wrapped tightly around the branch she’d managed to make it to. The girl is barely ten, and has always been one of your more adventurous and confident children, but in that moment she is clearly petrified and you very much consider climbing the tree yourself to get her.

“Lilly-Anne, dear, are you stuck?” You can’t think of a possible reason but that fact, that she is stuck in some way whether mental or physical.

“I-I-I I can’t get down! I-” She cuts herself off in panic, clinging even tighter to the branch as a brisk wind causes the smaller branches to shake.

“I’m coming to get you! Don’t worry, sweetheart! It’s going to be okay!” You say, sounding much more confident than you actually are about your ability to climb a thirty foot tall oak tree in a dress and heeled boots. You haven’t climbed a tree since you were thirteen years old and have never been a particularly fan of heights, but needs must.

You’re planting a foot on a knot in the tree and reaching up for a lower branch when spurs clink behind you and a familiar deep drawl sounds out from behind you.

“Everything alright, Miss Y/N?” You’re in truth rather relieved when you turn to see Din standing there, thumbs tucked into his belt behind the buckle. The worn hat he never seems to be without is tilted back as he looks over you, your gaggle of children and up into the tree. The bemused expression turns to one of concern when he sees Lilly-Anne at the top, immediately pulling his hat and holsters off and placing them on the ground.

Before you can even reply to his question he has gentle hands on your waist twisting you away from the tree before placing a boot in the same spot your foot was moments ago. It doesn’t irritate you that he has done all this without asking, instead you are relieved. You know you are not dressed for tree climbing nor are you proficient at it, Din is better suited for the task and you are glad that he is here.

“Lilly-Anne, Ad’ika, it’s the sheriff! I’m coming to get you, little one, don’t you worry about a thing!” He keeps his voice even, soothing, the same voice he uses whenever Grogu has a nightmare. She might be feet up in the air but even from down at the base of the tree he can see how scared she is, can hear her whimpering and crying out for someone to come help her. Like any scared little kid.

He’s not really thinking much of anything, in truth, not when he sees the little girl terrified and crying at the top of the tall tree. There’s a memory from his past, a small boy at the top of a large tree, his adopted father climbing to get him with gentle words. He remembers the fear of being at the top, of being so confident in your ability to get all the way up that you never considered just how you’d make your way back down.

He’s not scared of heights, not anymore. His adoptive father had made sure of that. Taught him to climb right back down, how to face that fear that makes you freeze. It’s not a hard climb, and each foothold is easy to find. The tree is sturdy, thick branches and a wide trunk. Old, older than him, older than any of them and he wonders how many children have climbed it only to need a guardian or parent to come and rescue them from the top.

“It’s alright, little one! I’m on my way, you just hang tight, okay?”

“O-o-okay…” He likes Lilly-Anne, she likes his adventure stories the most. The little wild card a born adventurer herself, she always talks about becoming a famous gunslinger, constantly badgering him to teach her how to shoot. Adventurous spirit, stubborn, but he’s never seen her scared of anything. It breaks Din’s heart to see her usual confidence and fearlessness missing.

You’re worried. That’s the best way to describe what you’re feeling in the pit of your stomach and it’s nail biting, stomach churning worry. A part of you knows that Din is competent in a million different ways, that he’ll be fine climbing a tree that a ten year old managed to scale and that he’ll be fine bringing her back down. Another part of you worries that maybe he’ll slip or she’ll slip or both of them will slip. The thought of either of them getting hurt sends you into a pacing sort of panic at the bottom of the tree, eyes on them the whole time, watching Din scale as your feet move you back and forth, to and fro.

He’s at the top before you can even blink, bracing himself besides her and talking to her low enough that you can’t hear. She’s shaking and you’re not sure if it is the wind or the fear that does it to her. He’s steady as a rock, it doesn’t surprise you, Din has, from the moment he walked into town, been steady, stable, and competent. He brings an ease to everything he does and seems to trust in his own skills beyond a shadow of a doubt.

“Hey, Ad’ika, I’m right here, okay? Look at me…” He knows this is the hard part, how to convince her to come down even with his help. She is so scared and he can now finally see the tear tracks over her chubby cheeks and the redness of her eyes. This little girl is so terribly scared and it makes his heart ache for her. But, he promises himself, that he’ll be the stable presence she needs, that he’ll be calm and collected for her even with a thirty foot drop beneath them and you pacing the ground below in worry.

Lilly-Anne’s bottom lip is trembling and her knuckles are white from holding on so tight, but she looks at him and seems to calm a little at his presence beside her. “I need you to hold onto me okay, sweetheart? I’m going to come closer and I need you to hold onto me so I can help you down, okay?” He knows it’s a big ask, knowing she’d have to pull herself away from the safety of the branch and trust that he’d keep her safe and secure, but she nods her head at him with a little whimper and he knows she’s brave enough to do this.

“You’re doing so well, Ad’ika.” Din praises her as he sidles as close as he can, helping her, with one arm, wrap her own around his neck and rest her legs around his hips. She’s a little big to be carried normally, getting to that age where her legs are getting a little too long and her body doesn’t fit as easily as Grogu’s would against his hip, but she’s light and easy to wrap around him as he secures his own feet and hands getting ready to make the climb down.

“You got all the way up here, Lilly-Anne, you can get back down, okay? Look,” Din begins the climb down, at each handhold and foot placement he points out to her that she could grab here or step there. He wants her to understand that if she could get all the way up, she could have made her way down. While he’s more than happy to help her, he knows her. She is an adventurous child, likely to climb a tree again and likely to need to make her way back down. Just like his buir had done, he was determined to make sure she was never scared of getting back down again. “You just need to place your hands where they fit best, move them down with you, a step at a time, Ad’ika. A step at a time.”

“It’s...it’s scary though…”

“I’ll let you in on a lil’ secret…” He turns his head to give her a meaningful look with a soft smile, stopping where he is just for a moment, “it’s not being scared that matters, it’s being brave enough to do it anyway.”

People think him fearless. The fearless sheriff, cleaning up the town, keeping people safe, facing down men with guns and hunting down criminals. He’s not. He’s scared of a lot of things, mostly Grogu, you or the other little ones getting hurt. Losing you from his life. Losing his son. Being a disappointment to his son. That scares him more than any threat to his own body, but still in the face of that fear he is brave. Bravery has never been the absence of fear, it’s doing what you need to do anyway, knowing that it terrifies you. His buir had taught him that and he’d teach Lilly-Anne that, teach Grogu that.

As he continues down the tree he can see her process his words. Brain working hard behind big blue eyes before she tugs on the back of his shirt to stop him where he is. Once again he stops climbing. You’re still pacing below, every time they stop you grow more anxious wondering what on earth could be happening. Did Din lose his footing? Was he faltering in some way? Was Lilly-Anne panicking?

But, that isn’t the case. When he asks her what’s wrong, she simply tells him she wants to try and climb down on her own, with his help. He can feel pride blooming in his chest, like a new bud opening up to the world in spring, and so he carefully helps her off of his hip and adjusts her footing and handholds before he moves below her so he can help her ease her way down and catch her if she slips.

She takes those first steps backwards, tentatively, scared of where she should put her feet, but each step after becomes more confident until they’re climbing at a decent pace back down the tree. She is a natural climber.

“You’re doing so well, Lil’ika! I knew you could do it, darlin’.” Din’s voice is quiet but now half way down you can actually hear him speaking to her, little praises at every successful step, reminders of how brave she is, how good she is doing. It eases some of that panic within you, warms your chest at the sounds of him, so utterly paternal and kind.

She is smiling wider as she gets nearer to the bottom, you can see that the fear has left her, the panic gone, replaced with a bravery that you are thankful to see. She has always been a brave child, an adventurous child, fearless. The thought that she would lose that had terrified you almost as much as the thought that she was stuck at the top of that tree.

The moment her feet touch the ground again you are fussing over her like a mother hen, “Lilly-Anne, what possessed you to climb such a tall tree?!” You both do not want to stifle her adventurous spirit and at the same time feel a sense of responsibility to teach her to think before taking potentially dangerous actions. It is the one cruelty of being a teacher and not a friend, you must always tell them off for doing something which could have ended with them hurt because no one else would. “You could have been hurt, sweetheart.” You soften the blow with the endearment, checking her over for cuts and bruises. Her hands are a little rough, but otherwise she is fine and despite your fussing and admonishment she is still smiling.

“I got back down, Miss Y/N! I got back down!” You sigh out from your place kneeling in front of her, a small smile making its way to your face. Before you tug lightly at one of the blonde braids of her hair. You want to be stern, but can’t find it in yourself to be when she had in fact managed to get all the way back down, when she was so clearly proud of herself. How could you bring yourself to crush that happiness?

“Yes, yes, you did, well done, sweet girl...now that you’ve nearly given me a heart attack, why don’t you thank the sheriff and go get sorted for your next lesson?” You can still feel the residual adrenaline running through you, your heart is still beating faster than it should. To think you were going to climb up that tree to get her, in a full dress and heeled boots...you suspected the outcome would have been the two of you stuck up that tree, not just one. What a sight that would have made.

“Thank you, Sheriff Djarin!” He’s buckling his holster on as she turns to him, already getting back into sheriff mode as he places that worn hat over dark brown curls. He cuts an impressive figure as sheriff, but you most enjoy him at his softest, when he lets the walls fall for the children and shows you who he really is underneath all that responsibility and posturing.

“You’re welcome, Ad’ika, you remember how to get down for next time?”

“Uh huh!” Like all children she nods her head so vigorously you briefly worry she’ll concuss herself, but know that they always seem to be fine afterwards.

“Good. Go get ready for your lesson.” He pats the top of her head with a soft smile. You only ever see that smile around you and the children, including Grogu, of course. The two of you watch her run off, the other children in the group following her at your insistence that they better be ready at the desks by the time you return.

You know you need to move soon, they are waiting for their next set of lessons before the day ends and you have things to teach them. Things you always stress are important. But, you can’t ever resist spending a little more time with Din, even more so when it comes to thanking him for his hand in helping you with the children. He is always there when you need him, when his support or involvement is required.

“Thank you, Din...I...I don’t know what I would have done if you hadn’t turned up. I’m sure we both would have been stuck up there if I’d tried to get her…” There’s something about being alone with Din that excites you more than it should. Perhaps, it’s the reminder that you’re an unmarried woman, he’s an unmarried man, and the two of you certainly shouldn’t be spending time alone together away from other people’s eyes. There is no one here to watch you, to ensure everything is polite and appropriate. It shouldn’t mean more than it does. It should just be a moment to thank him, something simple, devoid of any deep feelings, but like everything that happens with Din, there is always more going on beneath the surface. Your feelings are always deep and hard to understand with him.

“Cabur’ika. You never have to thank me. For anything.” He’s almost bashful looking when he smiles at you from under the brim of his hat, face tilted down just so. You can see the hint of a flush to his tanned cheeks and the dimples pull at the sides of his mouth when he smiles.

“Yes...yes I do. I hope you...I hope you understand just how much I appreciate your help, Din. You...you do more for me than anyone else in this town and,” You gently reach for one of his large hands, holding it between the two of your own. His fingers are calloused and rough, his skin warm to the touch even in the autumn air. “I really do appreciate it. I appreciate you. So thank you.”

He’s at a loss for words. Not just because of your own sweet ones, but because your eyes are so soft and large, staring up at him like he’s hung the moon, like he’s done something above and beyond. When in truth he has just done his job, the right thing. Supporting you as the school teacher will always be the right thing and certainly it isn’t all duty. He finds you to be beautiful, sweet and soft, kind, yet strong and fierce. Your treatment of his son, his Grogu warms his heart. Your deep love for your children makes him want to sigh like a lovesick school boy and your treatment of him, your acceptance, open arms to a man who should scare you, makes him want to be around you all the more. From the moment he met you, you had been welcoming and soft. That hadn’t changed and everything in him screams at him to do something, say something, hold your hand tighter, kiss your lips, but that’s too fast and too soon. It would be a dishonour to you, you deserved him taking his time, finding the right words and actions to court you, to prove that he was worthy of your time and affection.

So instead he just smiles at you, squeezes your hands tightly, once, twice, before thanking you. There are few parting words, a slow goodbye in which you both are reluctant to pull away from each other, but a call from the schoolhouse porch draws you away from him with a sad little smile.

His chest hurts so badly that he rubs at it with a palm. The hurt is a good sort though. Not the blistering pain of a gunshot wound or slash from a knife, but the ache of...of love. That’s what it is, he has to admit it to himself, it’s love. New and small, growing larger each day, but love.

-----------------------

Mando’a Translations:

Ad’ika - Little one

Lil’ika - Basically little Lily. The ‘ika is a diminutive suffix and often you take the first 3 words of a child's name like Gro’ika to make a familiar name.

Cabur’ika - Lit. Little Guardian, but Din’s term of endearment for reader after ‘Never Mess With a School Teacher’ because she is a true guardian of her kids.

Buir - Mother/Father/Parent

#din djarin x reader #din djarin / reader #din djarin #the mandalorian #the mandalorian reader insert #reader insert #readerinsert #western au #putting down roots #din djarinxreader #din djarin/reader #female reader #female identifying reader

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magicman111 · 3 years

Text

A Moth to a Flame - Chapter One

Marcy watched the sun slowly set on Newtopia as she’d done many an evening before. The sharp squawks of the gulls rang through the orange sky. She looked quite the forlorn figure standing by the hotel entrance, the gentle evening breeze that ruffled her cloak underscoring her solitude.

Her eyes remained fixated in the same direction her friend had taken off, maybe in some fleeting fool’s hope she’d change her mind and come sprinting back right into her arms.

Not a chance, Marbles.

Anne was long gone by now. Hopefully, she’d caught up with the Plantars’ fwagon before they reached the city gate. Judging by how quickly she booked it, the odds were in her favor. That girl didn’t make varsity back home for nothing.

Marcy only hoped those sweet, simple frogs knew just how lucky they were to have someone like Anne in their lives.

Sighing, her head lowered, she licked her wounds slowly.

Really? That easy, huh?

Could Anne have made it any more obvious that she wanted to get out of there faster than she did? After they’d been apart for so long, and for a family of farmer frogs whom she’d known for what? Months?

No, don’t do that, she pulled herself up. It wasn’t right for her to be mad at the Plantars. This wasn’t their fault. Sprig and Polly were a barrel of fun at the slumber party, providing you disregarded their life-threatening encounter with the jelly-fish ghosts. Hop Pop, meanwhile, reminded her so much of her own grandpa it was uncanny. They were sweet, decent folk who’d taken Anne in and kept her safe all this time. It was just...

Her lips twisted into a bitter frown. How else was she supposed to feel but a little rejected?

However, was she really allowed to complain when holding her tongue was so normalised for her by this point? Marcy was a people pleaser, she understood that much about herself. Anytime Anne and Sasha got into an argument, she was there to keep the peace and everyone happy. So if Anna-Banana wanted to spend more time with her bumpkin frog family than her literal best friend since preschool, who was she to say no?

The story with her folks wasn’t all that different either. When they pressured her to keep up her studies, up to and including PSAT prep despite it being years away, she did as she was told like a good girl to make them proud, and they were. She hoped they were.

Goodness knows what they must be thinking right now—

Nope nope nope! Don’t go there, don’t go there.

She’d already lost too much sleep at night ruminating over the unspeakable pain she’d most surely put them through, it was the last thing she needed right now. She tried to do the logical thing and focus on the positives instead. That usually worked.

Anne wouldn’t be away for too long. They’d be together again as soon as Hop Pop’s contacts returned the Box to Wartwood and then it was off to the first of the three temples to get those gems recharged. Once that side quest was done and dusted, it was a simple matter of finding Sasha and making their way home.

Looking down, she caught herself wringing her hands.

Home.

That sure was the plan.

I mean... what else are we supposed to do?

“Always sad to see someone go, isn’t it?”

Marcy quickly wiped her eyes and glanced over her shoulder to greet the towering form of King Andrias.

Almost instantly, her mood perked up a notch. He was the one person whom she trusted, more than anyone else in all of Amphibia. Ever since she first landed outside the city walls, he took her under his wings and ensured her smooth transition into this brave new world.

Andrias was without doubt one of the kindest and wisest people Marcy could have ever hoped to meet. He was a true listener, and there were very few you could say that about, her parents included. How often had he been there to lend both an understanding ear and sage advice over games of flipwart?

Games she won more often than not, she wasn’t humble enough not to brag.

It was also he who sent Marcy on the daring missions that would eventually make her the hero of Newtopian society she was today. All because he recognised the value of her talents beyond passing an exam or helping her friends with their homework. No other 13-year-old had their own solid gold statue adorning a city bridge.

She owed this king a debt she couldn’t possibly repay, but one he was far too altruistic in nature to demand.

Then, why did he look so... solemn?

“Come along, Marcy. We need to talk.”

Maybe it was his serious tone of voice or those specific choice of words, but they made the hair on the back of Marcy’s neck stand on end. In an almost pavlovian manner, she corrected her posture and she held her chin erect.

Shoving whatever remaining conflicted thoughts aside, she silently followed Andrias back to the castle like a pilot fish tailing its great white. She was so puny next to this tremendous salamander, he could crush her with a single blow of his fist if he so chose. Not that a gentle, goofy giant like Andrias would even dream of doing such a thing.

So when he was dead serious, Marcy knew better to zip it, listen, and do as instructed.

Their quiet journey took them all the way back to the castle and into the royal throne room, a place she was all too familiar with by now. To enter this hallowed hall was a privilege bestowed only to a select few. For Marcy, it was where she had her morning debriefs over bugachinos.

Instead of going straight up to the throne for their pow wow as she anticipated, Andrias guided her down a small passageway to their left.

When they made their way up to the statue of what Marcy recognised as one of his ancestors, one of the great rulers of Amphibia, they came to a stop. Andrias then gazed down at her with the most serious look she’d seen him give anyone.

“Marcy, before we go any further,” he spoke sternly, “I need to be absolutely crystal clear about something. Okay?”

“Y-Yes, Andrias?” Marcy asked, shivering a little. She did not like being pulled out of her comfort zone, not like this.

“You’re about to enter the most secret place in all of Newtopia,” he continued, now down on one knee and his hand hovering over her shoulder, as close as they could be to eye level. “What I’m going to show you... I need you to swear you won’t share with another living soul. Not to Anne, not to Lady Olivia, no one. Do you understand? I can’t emphasise this enough, Marcy.”

“Of course,” she answered earnestly, trying to sound more confident. “You know you can always trust me, Andrias.”

A ghost of that warm, fatherly smile returned to his big blue countenance.

“Trust is a hard thing to come by, kid, and you’ve gone above and beyond to earn mine. It’s just that I’m not exaggerating here when I say this is a big one.”

Marcy simply placed one hand over his huge index, the other over her heart.

She smiled back at him sweetly, genuinely, “I promise.”

“Very well.”

Nodding in approval, Adrias rose. He reached out, pushing a luminous coral torch upwards.

It didn’t take an encyclopedic knowledge of ‘Creatures & Caverns’ for Marcy to predict that the statue was going to shift to the left next, revealing the spiralling staircase leading to Frog knows where. She probably should’ve been more surprised, but come on, it wasn’t exactly the first secret passage she’d come across in this castle lately.

“Follow me,” was all Andrias said, before he pulled off the same coral torch, then proceeded down the stairs without another word. Marcy followed obediently, unable to ignore the unnerving chill that was now travelling up her spine.

Was it... always this cold around here?

Something about all this just felt so unsettling compared to last time. She couldn’t really explain why; she knew she was safe with Andrias and that he wouldn’t do anything to intentionally put her in harm’s way. It was a gut feeling and that sort of thing bugged a rational person like her to no end.

She tried to take her mind off it by hazarding her best guess as to precisely what he was going to show her. Either she did that or started getting all worked up dwelling on Anne again, which she’d rather not at the moment.

Another secret library, perhaps? Probably not, though she wouldn’t be at all disappointed if it was. Maybe there were forbidden texts about the dark arts hidden away down there. Magic users were incredibly rare in Amphibia these days—Marcy had already searched far and wide—so might this be her chance?

Oh, how the very idea of being able to cast actual magic excited her. Being Chief Ranger of the Knight Guard was a great honor and nothing to sneeze at, but to be a powerful sorceress, one who could communicate with spirits, raise the dead, shuffle the orifices on her enemy’s faces—

Okay, rein those snails in, Mar-Mar.

Her musings were interrupted by a strange noise emanating from below. At first she figured it was just her imagination, but the further they continued their descent, the clearer it became.

It sounded an awful lot like beeping. Yes, that was it. A progressively growing cacophony of bleeps, bloops and chirps, the kind she’d expect to hear from a high-tech supercomputer. Something absolutely alien in a world like Amphibia, she and her friends excluded.

Before Marcy could ask Andrias if he heard it too, she was distracted by the emergence of an orange glow chasing away the darkness below. It was a warm, almost heavenly light that conjured the mental image of a crackling fireplace on Christmas morning, protecting you from the snowstorm outside.

The chill in her spine had by now spread to the crown of her head and the tips of her toes. Her throat tightened up. Beads of cold sweat dripped down her forehead.

What the... Marcy could not say a word, only think.

There was something down there. Something greater than any library, however inconceivable that sounded. Whether it was good or bad was irrelevant to her at that moment.

It called her.

The duo finally reached the foot of the staircase and entered the sacred sanctum.

Marcy’s jaw dropped.

“Woah.”

There were no shelves of books. No ancient Amphibian artifacts. There weren’t even any walls that she could make out from where she stood. Just an apparently endless sea of darkness encompassing a large round platform from which both the enticing glow and the lowkey din of beeps originated.

Marcy resumed taking Andrias’ lead as they stepped out onto the platform, the clink-clank of their boots confirming her assumption it was made of metal. The whole thing appeared more at home on an alien spaceship than in the dungeons of a castle.

Upon arriving at its centre, Andrias knelt down on both knees and, much to Marcy’s curiosity, removed his crown and set it down on the floor. She took the hint by following suit.

Any lingering fears melted away the more she basked herself in the radiance. It was as if the beams were steadily pouring into her body, clearing up her headspace, reducing any tension in her body. She recalled a favored memory from when she was five-years-old, when she and Anne spent a whole summer afternoon by the beach. How the tides would come in and out without fail, washing away the ruins of their sandcastles, the seaweed, one of Anne’s sandles and the teeny tiny baby seahorse they rescued.

Like a nice blank canvas.

Was this a private place of worship? Not according to her expansive studies of Amphibian anthropology. Or maybe it was a place for Andrias to meditate away from the hustle and bustle of the rest of the castle. Seemed a skosh excessive if that was the case.

“Truly captivating, I know.”

Andrais’ baritone brought Marcy back down to earth. She straightened up and tried to refocus herself. They were down here for an important reason, at least she believed they were.

“One can spend hours down here,” Andrias boomed ominously. “Adrift in their own thoughts and... dreams.” The light cast his face in a rather unnerving shadow as he stared ahead into the void. “But I’m sure you know I haven’t brought you here to show off my retreat from the world.” He took a long, deep breath, like he was mentally steeling himself for what he said next, “As much as it pains me to say it, I’m afraid I haven’t been entirely truthful with you, Marcy.”

He produced from his sleeve what appeared at first glance to be two giant pieces of parchment and unfolded them neatly on the metal surface. A closer inspection told Marcy they were in fact pages torn from an exceptionally large book. Judging not only by the size, but the font and format as well, she easily pieced together its origin.

“Are these...?”

“From the book we “found” in the wing?” Andrias chuckled mirthlessly. “Yes. Still kinda surprised you didn’t pick up there were pages missing, but that's not important right now. Please, read.”

The platform provided ideal reading light. Marcy’s ability to read at a 12th Grade level meant she cruised through the text and finished within minutes.

She read it once, then twice. A third and fourth time just to make sure her eyes weren’t deceiving her.

Her bottom began to tremble.

No... Nononono, this... this can’t be right. I-It’s impossible! How in the world can it...?!

No amount of curative rays could unfreeze the blood in her veins. The metaphorical pistons in her brain were firing on full cylinders in a vain attempt to digest this earth-shattering information. For a split second, she thought she was going to pass out.

Desperate, she turned to the stone-faced Andrias to plead for some kind of answer, but she found no words with which to speak. All the personal growth and development that made her Newtopia’s champion had been stripped of her and she was reduced to nothing more than a helpless lost toddler.

A comforting set of giant digits placed themselves under her chin, the same way a father would do for his daughter.

“All this time, I’ve been testing you,” Andrias told her, his voice full of pride. “The games of flipwart, the missions, the “secret library”, even the barbari-ant colony I had lured to the city. I was watching you, studying your every action. With each challenge I issued, you excelled my expectations. You’re an exceptionally talented human being, Marcy, truly worthy of the name ‘Wu’.”

Even if these words were meant to serve as comfort or encouragement, they had only the opposite effect for Marcy. Tears were leaking out the corners of her eyes.

She mustered only a pitiful whimper, “I-I don’t understand.”

“Don’t worry, kiddo,” he promised, “you will soon enough. He’s so excited to meet you.”

“... He?”

Lifting his mighty hand in the air, he thrusted it into the nothingness facing them. Marcy instinctively followed its direction.

“Marcy Wu,” Andrias’ thundering voice resonated throughout the sanctuary, “allow me to introduce you... to my master.”

No sooner had he finished, the whole world started to tremble at Marcy’s knees, throwing her off her balance. A rumbling, mechanical ROAR struck her ears so loud she had to cover them to protect the drums from rupture. Yet despite this sensory assault, she somehow forced her eyes to stay wide open. She needed to face whatever was coming.

Marcy gazed into the abyss.

And the abyss gazed back with all thirteen of its eyes.

Terror. Pure mounting terror overwhelmed every cell of her being. Her pupils shrunk to the size of pinpricks. If her mouth stretched any wider, her jaw risked snapping clean off its hinges.

Everything around her faded into black. Andrias, the platform and its glow, the beeping, all vanished into the ether. All now that existed were herself and those colossal demonic eyes plucked from the deepest recesses of her nightmares, their leer burrowing into her very soul.

Marcy wanted to scream until she coughed up her lungs. Moreso, she just wanted to wake up. This was all a dream, it had to be. A lucid dream that had gone on for far too long. She and her friends weren’t in another dimension inhabited by talking frogs, such a notion was a scientific absurdity. She sure as heck wasn’t a ranger in some anthropomorphic newt army.

Any moment now, her wizard kitty alarm would ring and she’d wake up in her soft, cozy bed. Dad would have left for work by now, planting a goodbye kiss on her sleeping forehead as he did every morning since she was little. Mom would be already making her her favorite congee rice and youtiao for breakfast. Then she would begin the process of packing up her room for the big move to Oregon like a good girl.

Yes, she would even happily do that. Anything to bring an end to this ordeal!

Shhhh

Her train of thought screeched to a sudden halt.

Marcy

It’s gonna be okay

And just like that, as if those were the five magic words required, everything was fine again. No more panic, no more existential terror. Her heart rate lowered to a steady, non-life threatening level.

The tide had risen up and washed Marcy’s mind clean.

Like a nice blank canvas.

What quickly followed was an epiphany of sorts.

There was nothing for her to fear. Once she accepted that fact, the warm sensation from before returned greater than ever, engulfing her in what could only be described as a spiritual hug. She could feel the pair of hands, tender as her own mother’s, caressing her face and flicking away her tears. They even ruffled her raven hair in the same playful manner.

Come to me, daughter of Wu

Let me get a good look at you

Marcy obeyed. Getting down on all fours, she crawled across the nonexistent ground—the laws of physics evidently had no place here—until her face and the eyes’ chief pupil were within inches of each other.

Fresh tears, now ones of ecstasy, trickled down her cheeks and evaporated in the pulsating heat.

“You’re beautiful.”

I know

We’ve gotta lot to talk about, Marcy

And I have a feeling...

You and I are gonna become the best of friends

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ouyangzizhensdad · 3 years

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what’s the line between a good adaptation and a bad adaptation? I’ve been running circles in my head thinking about where cql stands these past few days. Because i was also thinking about other adaptations like the pjo films and howl’s moving castle, like one of these is hated and the other is very much loved but both of them change so much from the original source material that it cannot be considered the same, movie howl and book howl are completely different characters and the plot for pjo was messed w so much in the films. So I was thinking about how much an adaptation can change before it’s considered a bad adaptation? or if changes really even matter if the adaptation achieves what it set out to achieve regardless of how different it is to source material? For the record I think cql is a bad adaptation but I’m unsure how to word it because the line seems kinda blurry

Hi anon,

As much fun as it would be to be the final arbiter on what constitutes a good or bad adaptation, it is a question to which there are unfortunately no definitive answers. But I am of course happy to share my opinion and thoughts on the topic!

I think a good adaptation needs first to meet a crucial condition, which is that it must be, on its own, a good work of fiction. That means on the one hand that it should not rely on the source material to be thematically or narratively cohesive--if prior knowledge of the source material is necessary to understand fully the adaption, I personally consider it a failure. On the other hand, this also simply means that the work of fiction must be competently-made, coherent, enjoyable, etc. on its own merits. However, some adaptations that are well-made and generally self-contained works of fiction remain bad adaptations. There is obviously more to the process than just producing a strong work of fiction based on elements of another work.

It’s good to keep in mind that changes are not inherently a bad thing since the process of adaptation requires change. Generally an adaptation aims to tell a story through a different medium, which requires changes even when the creative(s) in charge of the adaptation want(s) to remain as faithful as possible to the original. Telling a story through a visual medium vs the written form demands a different approach! And technical limitations might end up having a huge sway in the process: do you have the budget or the technology to execute everything described in a fantasy novel, for instance? how much time or locations do you need to tell the same story? As well, since adaptations are generally spear-headed by different creatives, changes to the source material are part of the creative process, by adding another perspective and by being forced, in a sense, to choose a specific interpretation of the source material. And that’s not even covering how adapting something from a different era or from a different cultural moment will require a form of “translation” to make it both intelligible and relevant to contemporary audiences.

In addition to these sort of “unavoidable” changes, there are many other factors that may enter into question. With CQL and MDZS, we have a salient example of how censorship might influence the process of adapting a property. The people who have a veto, in some shape or form, over the project may also pursue their own agendas. Matters of marketability and of targeting a specific market will also influence the direction an adaptation takes, especially when an adaption is done in a medium that requires large initial financial investments.

Personally, I believe that the way to make a good adaptation is to go either of these three ways: 1) take a source material that contains obvious weaknesses and improve upon them; 2) figure out exactly what is the appeal of the source material and what makes it original, and make sure that these elements are kept in the adaptation; or 3) reinvent the source material. In the first scenario, it is a case of stronger story-teller being handed a property that has a lot of flaws, and either doing away with them or filling up the gaps in the original narrative--thereby allowing the good in it to finally shine. A good example of that, imo, is The Old Guard movie, a tight narrative that excised a lot of the less savoury elements of the graphic novels and included a lot more emotional depth and pay offs.

In the second scenario, the most important factor is that the creative (or creatives) in charge of the adaptation really understand not only the source material but also why it became loved enough to be picked up for an adaptation--why it appeals to people, what makes it unique, what stands out. What I mean is that creative liberty and changes to the source material are totally fine so long as they do not lose the identity or appeal of the source material and do not present an interpretation that is not actually rooted in the original text. For instance, I personally hate the Anne with an E adaptation of Anne of Green Gables because to me it fundamentally misunderstands the point of the novels and why they became a phenomenon. Making a story that was written to be an uplifting fantasy about an abused orphan who still managed to find beauty in the world and to find love and acceptance in it into a grim “realistic” drama to try to “appeal to modern audiences” is fundamentally stupid and, honestly, offensive. As well, while I enjoy Pride and Prejudice 2005 as a film, I think it is an horrid adaptation of Pride and Prejudice, mainly due to the fact the director Joe Right clearly did not understand the novel. As a result the film is a representation of what he projects unto the narrative (something that is very clear when he talked about the novel in interviews or in the bts), and not what is actually in the text.

In the third scenario, what would be a loose adaptation is a situation where perhaps very little of the source material may remain. It might only be the premise, or some plot points, or some character relationships that are ultimately kept. These also include for me the “what if X narrative but Y set-up”, which can be awful (the Pride and Prejudice and Zombies movie is so shockingly bad when it could have been a fun, campy romp) but also a way to explore a source material in new ways or underlining certain themes that might have been not given as much light in the source material. In this case, I guess that what really makes it a good “adaptation” is whether it has something new or interesting to add to the source material through this loose adaptation, or whether it is just a gimmick.

To me, CQL fails as an adaptation both on its own merits (due to plot holes, on-the-nose and clumsy storytelling, inconsistent characterisation, technical failings, etc.) but also as it does not retain, for a number of reasons, what makes MDZS appealing imo (WWX’s characterisation, Wangxian’s journey, its heavy reliance on mystery, intrigue and themes, its willingness to show characters do cruel and violent things, etc.), all the while making the cardinal sin of being a weaker story than the source material (when the source material already provided them with all the material they would have needed to tell a story of at least equal complexity and competency).

#anon ask #long post

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kasjophe · 3 years

Text

okay here we go durmstrang!harry and beauxbatons!draco

so I saw some gorgeous art of this au and obviously I love it- and my brain came up with whole storyline - it's a bit long post, I believe it's interesting so I hope you enjoy

After murder of James and Lily Potter & defeat of Voldemort - while whole Wizarding World were celebrating - baby Harry and Draco were send off abroad.

Dumbledore arranged Harry's departure himself, pulled few strings, contacted old acquaintances in Norway. Far away enough from England but close enough for Albus to just pop up if needed. It's the Chosen One we're talking about (I could elaborate and explain Dumbledore actions basing on the fact that he knew, bc of course he bloody knew, that Sirius didn't betray Potters and traitor was out there, pretty much capable of laying his hands on infant between muggles) And so young Potter found himself in small wizard village, raised by pretty tough-love kinda people (but still not fkn abused like with the Dursleys) /everyone can imagine it differently but I can see him growing up with some woman and her brother? (a bit anne of green gables kinda thing)/ Kids in the village didn't know about the boy who lived, but it's been explained to Harry what happened to his parents. He was taught magic since he was little, trained to be a soldier and just enough affection kept him obedient. /I can see the woman raising him feeling conflicted - she needed to protect this oblivious boy and that meant either toughening him up so he could think for himself and survive or raising him the way albus pleased/

Malfoys knew they couldn't stay in England after fall of the Dark Lord, their image was damaged, wrong moves could ruin them completely, so they moved away to France, where some distant relatives once lived anyway. Draco grew up pretty much the same, just influenced more by the place where he lived. /of course with that come changes in Lucius career path, relationships in the family, social status and Malfoy's fortune/ Draco was a spitting image of Beauxbatons, brilliant and beautiful.

And you could think that alongside with Harry came Voldemort - but how? First, Voldy was after philosopher's stone, which was in hogwarts, far away from where harry was, and let's not pretend, Albus could easily protect the stone himself. Chamber of Secrets? How would it be opened if Malfoys had the diary? 3rd year; Sirius has absolutely no idea where his godson is so his goal instead is to prove to Remus his innocence - and he manages that of course. Lupin demands to know where is Harry from Dumbledore (and he either tells them or refuses to "for Potter's safety") but then comes 4th year - and since there was no incident with werewolf Lupin is still DADA teacher - so there's no Mad Eye and even if, this time Crouch wouldn't take his place - because no-one in England knows where Harry even is (Karkaroff knows but if I remember right only when the tournament started he realised Voldemort might be back so who would he tell lol?), so why set up a trap on Triwizard Tournament?

Of course both Harry and Draco arrive at Hogwarts that year - that's where their history starts. I'm sure Dumbledore and Malfoys were reluctant of letting boys go there but hey- Durmstrang students eventually learned about famous Potter and Harry insisted he wants to see his homeland cause what could go wrong? And Malfoys, well, Draco is spoiled and stubborn of course he's going.

Wormtail obviously run away in 3rd year and he might have found Voldemort so some action could be taking place in goblet of fire after all, so maybe Crouch took over MadEye last minute and put in Harry's name. But honestly that seems very unlikely in my opinion so if there are any creative writers - something else could've happened sure.

Also another quite obvious thing - even if everyone go crazy over Krum and don't notice Harry at first, he is a brilliant seeker after all and I'm sure he's under Victor's wing on the quidditch team. So Hogwarts students quickly add 2 plus 2 and realise that bloody hell it's Harry Potter. Which means Sirius and Remus can meet him. (Somehow)

There's also that particular white haired boy in lightblue cape that seems to be staring at Potter all the time and oh merlin is he coming his way? no way- oh my he's here, oh he's British too but lives abroad? so they have something in common- wow he's so talkative and OH MERLIN HE'S SO TOUCHY- is that a French thing?? oh playing quidditch? that must be why he's even talking to him..

Do with this what you want cause I suck at writing but need more drarry and this au.

#drarry #harry potter #draco malfoy #hogwarts #durmstrang #beauxbatons #hp and the goblet of fire #au #malfoy #albus dumbledore #fanfiction #prompt

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celebritytgcaptions · 3 years

Text

Requests (5/23/2021)

Hi lovelies! I’ve been getting so many requests & I’m working hard to get all of them in the queue. Thanks for sending them my way! I’m writing to let you know that the queue is now full until the end of June. I was able to get every requests from my May 8th post in there except for a few. Requests from May 8th for captions featuring Katy Perry, Jenna Fischer, Marisol Nichols, Addison Rae, Ariana Grande, Erin Kellyman, Taylor Swift, Billie Eilish, Jhene Aiko, & Kirstin Maldonado will be posted in early July.

But there have been an absolute ton of requests since then too, yay! So I’m listing all the requests that I haven’t gotten to below. If you made a request but don’t see it below that might be for a few reasons. 1) I’ve written it already and it will be posted in June. 2) It’s one of the requests I posted on May 8th so I won’t talk about it here. 3) I considered it a demand not a request (for example, I received two that said “Anything with,” that wasn’t really a request just telling me to do it. Sorry if this bothers some of you but it is an issue with me so make sure you word your requests AS requests). Either way, thanks for the love, lovelies! :D

Anonymous said:

Could you do one with either Kelley O’hara or Alex Morgan from the USWNT about a guy soccer player watching the US win the world cup and then want to be them or something like that?

I actually know who both those are (shockingly enough, I don’t really follow sports) so sure thing!

Anonymous said:

Could you do lorengrey captions? She’s so hot

Sorry sweetie, don’t know who that is. :(

Anonymous said:

Hi I just had an idea for a game you could do. It could be where someone has to say as a boy what they’re like physically in stages. So first stage is hair color for example, second stage could be height, third stage could be body type, etc. An example would be if I was a black hair, short height, thick body type, I would match up with someone like Nicki Minaj. Just an idea which you could extend on. Hopefully it makes sense. I appreciate you!

I actually have a game like this mapped out called “Build a Sissy” where you choose age, hair color, and bra size, but it would take a LOT of work to make so I haven’t written it yet. Maybe some day though. :)

Anonymous said:

I would love to see a Tori Kelly caption. Her hair and body are not typical but beautiful for a white girl. I say that last sentence respectfully. I think having a caption with her would be great

Sure thing! Tori Kelly is a cutie. :)

Anonymous said:

Ok I'm not sure if u'll know these 2 cuz even I had to look them up for the names but anne dudek and maitland ward theyre the 2 blonde sisters from white chicks not sure if uve seen it but if u can could u make a caption for them please?

I DO know who they are! I’ve been thinking about doing a White Chicks caps because there’s a lot of cute looks in that movie (especially for Busy Phillips who I just love) so sure thing!

Anonymous said:

Could u do Yvette nicole brown from community? Id like to see some big girl love

Sure thing!

Anonymous said:

I already know that this request is probably gonna be a No but I still have to ask whats the ruling on GCI enhanced celebrities like Taylor swift from Cats? Or is that too much like "Furry" stuff. Now I'm Feeling this will be a No for multiple reasons

So it is not an issue with CGI “enhanced” celebrities but for Cats it is because I do not have a Furry fetish and I get uncomfortable thinking about writing caps for it. But I write caps with “manips” all the time (photoshopped images of celebs) so I’m not ruling out CGI enhanced celebs all together.

Anonymous said:

Can you do one of Lindsey stirling? And for the story can it be a guy trying to learn Violin but he cant seem to focus he even tried hot female teachers but it didnt work then he gets a male teacher than he starts focusing and wanting to please the teacher he becomes a sissy sorry its a long request

Sounds fun, sure thing!

Anonymous said:

Hi big fan and I think you’ve been doing amazing work. Is there anyway you could do a story about a guy who loses a bet to sorority girl and is forced to get his nails painted and turned into a girl? I love the idea of having a boys nails painted against his will. I’d love one with Selena Gomez but if you think another celeb would be better I leave that cumpletely to you.

Totally! This sounds fun. :D

Anonymous said:

Can you do thelma and Louise?

I’m assuming you mean Geena Davis & Susan Sarandon from Thelma & Louise so yes. Yes I can. :)

Anonymous said:

Can you do a caption from the movie bridesmaids? Like when theyre all trying on dressess or something?

I haven’t seen Bridesmaids (I know I know) but I can try something. :)

Anonymous said:

it would be super cool if you could do some more games! They’re my fav

Glad you like them! As long as I’m not on hiatus, games will be posted every second Saturday. I’ve already got two set for June. :)

Anonymous said:

Hey huge fan of your recent work and super excited about new caps!! Do you think you could do one about a college guy who drops out in pursuit of being a stand up comedian, but the comedy club needs a female comic so they turn him into a girl? I was thinking maybe Nikki Glaser, she so funny and sexy. Thanks can’t wait to see all your new stuff!!

Oooo, Nikki Glaser is great. Sure thing!

Anonymous said:

Can you make a caption about a guy who makes fun of curvy and thicc women, where the women get their revenge and turn the guy into Nia Jax?

You got it!

Anonymous said:

Hi Me again on the topic of the assembly line worker caption sequel if you do it i just an idea for the story like before depicting the sissies "first time" but you can have it be that the coworker doesnt know and is telling everyone about the chick he slept with last night and the sissy is just thinking "if only they knew"idk i thought it was good anyways thank u again

So this message is in reference to a sequel caption that was requested & that I did write and will be posted in June. I’m sharing it here to let the anon know that I wrote the cap BEFORE I got this second request so there will be a followup but the story will be different. I hope that’s ok.

Anonymous said:

Hi idk if u watch wrestling or not I see u have some captions of wwe womens wrestlers but im not sure have far ur knowledge of it is? Could u do a caption of Rhea Ripley if u know her?

I have never seen a single episode of WWE, I do not watch wrestling, and yet somehow every time someone requests a wrestler I know who she is. Don’t ask me how because I do not know. Anyways, yeah I can do a Rhea Ripley one. :)

Anonymous said:

Could you do a caption about a janitor for sissy co. That finds out the strange goings on at work and tries to blow the whistle on the whole operation but is caught and turned into a sissy maid for the sissy co. Corporate office abit specific I know but ive been thinking on that awhile however u do it will be perfect thanks

You got it!

Anonymous said:

Could you do katheryn Hahn from wandavision specifically the 80s look with the Big hair and aerobics outfit

Oooo, sounds nice. I’ll type that up for sure. :)

Anonymous said:

Hi big fan of your caps!! Do you think you could do a cap where a football player wants to go to the NFL but gets hurt, so they turn him into a female commentator, maybe Lauren Rutledge? If you don’t know her, she’s been a college football reporter for awhile and was also a former Miss Florida. Anyways I just think any guy would be lucky to be turned into her and I love your caps keep up the great work!!

Me: *googles Lauren Rutledge to see if it’s who I’m thinking of* How do I know who this is? Anyways, yes I can write this. :)

...for some reason there are no GIFs of her though so I’m just gonna move on.

Anonymous said:

Hi I'm the one that requested the LONG list of celebs I'm still really sorry about that I didnt realize how many it actually was till I looked back so I wanna retract some for your sake tell ya what if you havent done any already just do the ones that are specifically marked (as in the ones detailed by movie or show theyre in) the ones that are just names you can leave out i knoe its still alot but hopefully that takes some weight off of ya sorry again

You don’t have to be sorry! Like I said, in the future I’d ask that folks limit requests to no more than 3 celebs at a time but you didn’t know that. I’d never said that before. I typed up every celebrity and they’re going to be sprinkled in during June. Hope you like them! :)

Anonymous said:

Hello ^^ I love your work. Can u make a caption with the name "jules" and Ariana Grande please? Thank you

Sure thing!

Anonymous said:

Hey, not really an ask, but something I needed to share

I'm the one that asked for the Stephanie Beatriz caption from a whole back, and I absolutely loved how it turned out. Each time you roll out a new caption is like a small thrill to me and I read them right as they're released.

Now this wouldn't be an ask if I wasn't asking something, right? Well, next month sees the release of the "In the Heights" movie, and there's an opportunity there to do a series of captions using stephanie Beatriz from that same movie.

In conclusion, I love your captions so much, you're amazing!

Awww, this is such a sweet message. Thank you! And YAAASSSSS! Ever since the first trailer for In the Heights dropped I was like, “I must write a caption with her in this!” So you can imagine how fun it’s been waiting this entire time. *eye twitches*. We’ll have to wait until the movie comes out for me to be sure I can find a good image but this IS a caption I want to write. :)

Anonymous said:

Hi I just recently came across your blog and fell in love with it!! The caption with the football player being turned into Bella Thorne is one of my favorites!! I’d love so much if you could do a sequel or something to that cap it was so amazing and I need to know what else happens to “her”. I’m not sure if this is possible or if you even do sequels but this cap was great and I look forward to all the others!!!

Glad you like it! I’m always looking for sequel captions to write on Throwback Thursday so you’ll get this for sure. :)

Anonymous said:

Hey big fan! Do you think you could do a caption where a short guy gets made fun of by all his girl friends for how short he is? Ariana Grande is fairly short and I think a caption of her (of age of course) would be awesome

You got it!

Anonymous said:

Can you do one with the bella twins as two guys who fought over the same girl then the girl turns them both into look alikes of her but then they start fighting over the same guy

Yep!

Anonymous said:

Do you know suzy berhow? Or angie Griffin? If so would love a caption of either of them please

Sorry sweetie, I don’t know who those are. :(

Anonymous said:

Would appreciate more Sia captions please when u get the chance

I will remember that. :)

Anonymous said:

Can make some Winnie Harlow caption please? I adore her style

Sorry lovely, I don’t know who that is. :(

Anonymous said:

How about instead of removing the captions with Demi in them ,the images of Demi were just replaced with another celeb and if Demi is mentioned by name in the caption then that could be edited to mention a different celeb. I respect Demi's decision I do but lets not lose some well made captions. Also if you could please make a caption where Amy Adams feminises a fan and raises them as her daughter and Kristen Stewart makes you her submissive wife that would be appreciated. I'm a fan of them.

So about the Demi Lovato captions: I understand your feelings but I’m still going to delete the original captions. Because of how my captions are made I can’t just go back in & swap out an image or edit the text, I have to remake it from the ground up. I am hoping to do that with some (maybe all) of the Demi Lovato captions & re-publish them, but I’m still going to delete the originals.

I can do the Kristen Stewart one for sure and I’ll TRY to do the Amy Adams one I just am not 100% sure I can find a pic for that but we’ll see. :)

Anonymous said:

If it’s possible before your summer hiatus could you do a caption with Amanda Crew (silicon valley, sex drive)?

I will do one with Amanda Crew but I can’t commit to doing it before the hiatus.

About the hiatus: I don’t know when it’s going to be. I want to TRY to make it to at least July 18th because I have a specific game in mind I want to post for 5 years of Celebrity TG Captions games, but after that I have no idea. I’ve been writing caps for a longer stretch of time since normal since I’ve switched to a part-time blog so I might burn out at any second but for right now I’ve still got some juice.

#Not a Caption #Requests #Request

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