#full article here for the tumblr crowd!

[ohgaylor]

In 2006, the year Taylor Swift released her first single, a closeted country singer named Chely Wright, then 35, held a 9-millimeter pistol to her mouth. Queer identity was still taboo enough in mainstream America that speaking about her love for another woman would have spelled the end of a country music career. But in suppressing her identity, Ms. Wright had risked her life.

In 2010, she came out to the public, releasing a confessional memoir, “Like Me,” in which she wrote that country music was characterized by culturally enforced closeting, where queer stars would be seen as unworthy of investment unless they lied about their lives. “Country music,” she wrote, “is like the military — don’t ask, don’t tell.”

The culture in which Ms. Wright picked up that gun — the same one in which Ms. Swift first became a star — was stunningly different from today’s. It’s dizzying to think about the strides that have been made in Americans’ acceptance of the L.G.B.T.Q. community over the past decade: marriage equality, queer themes dominating teen entertainment, anti-discrimination laws in housing and, for now, in the workplace. But in recent years, a steady drip of now-out stars — Cara Delevingne, Colton Haynes, Elliot Page, Kristen Stewart, Raven-Symoné and Sam Smith among them — have disclosed that they had been encouraged to suppress their queerness in order to market projects or remain bankable.

The culture of country music hasn’t changed so much that homophobia is gone. Just this past summer, Adam Mac, an openly gay country artist, was shamed out of playing at a festival in his hometown because of his sexual orientation. In September, the singer Maren Morris stepped away from country music; she said she did so in part because of the industry’s lingering anti-queerness. If country music hasn’t changed enough, what’s to say that the larger entertainment industry — and, by extension, our broader culture — has?

Periodically, I return to a video, recorded by a shaky hand more than a decade ago, of Ms. Wright answering questions at a Borders bookstore about her coming out. She likens closeted stardom to a blender, an “insane” and “inhumane” heteronormative machine in which queer artists are chewed to bits.

“It’s going to keep going,” Ms. Wright says, “until someone who has something to lose stands up and just says ‘I’m gay.’ Somebody big.” She continues: “We need our heroes.”

What if someone had already tried, at least once, to change the culture by becoming such a hero? What if, because our culture had yet to come to terms with homophobia, it wasn’t ready for her?

What if that hero’s name was Taylor Alison Swift?

In the world of Taylor Swift, the start of a new “era” means the release of new art (an album and the paratexts — music videos, promotional ephemera, narratives — that supplement it) and a wholesale remaking of the aesthetics that will accompany its promotion, release and memorializing. In recent years, Ms. Swift has dominated pop culture to such a degree that these transformations often end up altering American culture in the process.

In 2019, she was set to release a new album, “Lover,” the first since she left Big Machine Records, her old Nashville-based label, which she has since said limited her creative freedom. The aesthetic of what would be known as the “Lover Era” emerged as rainbows, butterflies and pastel shades of blue, purple and pink, colors that subtly evoke the bisexual pride flag.

On April 26, Lesbian Visibility Day, Ms. Swift released the album’s lead single, “ME!,” in which she sings about self-love and self-acceptance. She co-directed a campy music video to accompany it, which she would later describe as depicting “everything that makes me, me.” It features Ms. Swift dancing at a pride parade, dripping in rainbow paint and turning down a man’s marriage proposal in exchange for a … pussy cat.

At the end of June, the L.G.B.T.Q. community would celebrate the 50th anniversary of the Stonewall Riots. On June 14, Ms. Swift released the video for her attempt at a pride anthem, “You Need to Calm Down,” in which she and an army of queer celebrities from across generations — the “Queer Eye” hosts, Ellen DeGeneres, Billy Porter, Hayley Kiyoko, to name a few — resist homophobia by living openly. Ms. Swift sings that outrage against queer visibility is a waste of time and energy: “Why are you mad, when you could be GLAAD?”

The video ends with a plea: “Let’s show our pride by demanding that, on a national level, our laws truly treat all of our citizens equally.” Many, in the press and otherwise, saw the video as, at best, a misguided attempt at allyship and, at worst, a straight woman co-opting queer aesthetics and narratives to promote a commercial product.

Then, Ms. Swift performed “Shake It Off” as a surprise for patrons at the Stonewall Inn. Rumors — that were, perhaps, little more than fantasies — swirled in the queerer corners of her fandom, stoked by a suggestive post by the fashion designer Christian Siriano. Would Ms. Swift attend New York City’s WorldPride march on June 30? Would she wear a dress spun from a rainbow? Would she give a speech? If she did, what would she declare about herself?

The Sunday of the march, those fantasies stopped. She announced that the music executive Scooter Braun, who she described as an “incessant, manipulative” bully, had purchased her masters, the lucrative original recordings of her work.

Ms. Swift’s “Lover” was the first record that she created with nearly unchecked creative freedom. Lacking her old label’s constraints, she specifically chose to feature activism for and the aesthetics of the L.G.B.T.Q. community in her confessional, self-expressive art. Even before the sale of her masters, she appeared to be stepping into a new identity — not just an aesthetic — that was distinct from that associated with her past six albums.

When looking back on the artifacts of the months before that album’s release, any close reader of Ms. Swift has a choice. We can consider the album’s aesthetics and activism as performative allyship, as they were largely considered to be at the time. Or we can ask a question, knowing full well that we may never learn the answer: What if the “Lover Era” was merely Ms. Swift’s attempt to douse her work — and herself — in rainbows, as so many baby queers feel compelled to do as they come out to the world?

There’s no way of knowing what could have happened if Ms. Swift’s masters hadn’t been sold. All we know is what happened next. In early August, Ms. Swift posted a rainbow-glazed photo of a series of friendship bracelets, one of which says “PROUD” with beads in the color of the bisexual pride flag. Queer people recognize that this word, deployed this way, typically means that someone is proud of their own identity. But the public did not widely view this as Ms. Swift’s coming out.

Then, Vogue released an interview with Ms. Swift that had been conducted in early June. When discussing her motivations for releasing “You Need to Calm Down,” Ms. Swift said, “Rights are being stripped from basically everyone who isn’t a straight white cisgender male.” She continued: “I didn’t realize until recently that I could advocate for a community that I’m not a part of.” That statement suggests that Ms. Swift did not, in early June, consider herself part of the L.G.B.T.Q. community; it does not illuminate whether that is because she was a straight, cis ally or because she was stuck in the shadowy, solitary recesses of the closet.

On Aug. 22, Ms. Swift publicly committed herself to the as-of-then-unproven project of rerecording and rereleasing her first six albums. The next day, she finally released “Lover,” which raises more questions than it answers. Why does she have to keep secrets just to keep her muse, as all her fans still sing-scream on “Cruel Summer”? About what are the “hundred thrown-out speeches I almost said to you,” in her chronicle of self-doubt, “The Archer,” if not her identity? And what could the album’s closing words, which come at the conclusion of “Daylight,” a song about stepping out of a 20-year darkness and choosing to “let it go,” possibly signal?

I want to be defined by the things that I love,

Not the things I hate,

Not the things that I’m afraid of, I’m afraid of,

Not the things that haunt me in the middle of the night,

I just think that,

You are what you love.

The first time I viewed “Lover” through the prism of queerness, I felt delirious, almost insane. I kept wondering whether what I was perceiving in her work was truly there or if it was merely a mirage, born of earnest projection.

My longtime reading of Ms. Swift’s celebrity — like that of a majority of her fan base — had been stuck in the lingering assumptions left by a period that began more than a decade and a half ago, when a girl with an overexaggerated twang, Shirley Temple curls and Georgia stars in her eyes became famous. Then, she presented as all that was to be expected of a young starlet: attractive yet virginal, knowing yet naïve, not talented enough to be formidable, not commanding enough to be threatening, confessional, eager to please. Her songs earnestly depicted the fantasies of a girl raised in a traditional culture: high school crushes and backwoods drives, princelings and wedding rings, declarations of love that climax only in a kiss — ideally in the pouring rain.

When Ms. Swift was trying to sell albums in that late-2000s media environment, her songwriting didn’t match the image of a sex object, the usual role reserved for female celebrities in our culture. Instead, the story the public told about her was that she laundered her affection to a litter of promising grown men, in exchange for songwriting inspiration. A young Ms. Swift contributed to this narrative by hiding easy-to-decode clues in liner notes that suggested a certain someone was her songs’ inspiration (“SAM SAM SAM SAM SAM SAM,” “ADAM,” “TAY”) or calling out an ex-boyfriend on the “Ellen” show and “Saturday Night Live.” Despite the expansive storytelling in Ms. Swift’s early records, her public image often cast a man’s interest as her greatest ambition.

As Ms. Swift’s career progressed, she began to remake that image: changing her style and presentation, leaving country music for pop and moving from Nashville to New York. By 2019, her celebrity no longer reflected traditional culture; it had instead become a girlboss-y mirror for another dominant culture — that of white, cosmopolitan, neoliberal America.

But in every incarnation, the public has largely seen those songs — especially those for which she doesn’t directly state her inspiration — as cantos about her most recent heterosexual love, whether that idea is substantiated by evidence or not. A large portion of her base still relishes debating what might have happened with the gentleman caller who supposedly inspired her latest album. Feverish discussions of her escapades with the latest yassified London Boy or mustachioed Mr. Americana fuel the tabloid press — and, embarrassingly, much of traditional media — that courts fan engagement by relentlessly, unquestioningly chronicling Ms. Swift’s love life.

Even in 2023, public discussion about the romantic entanglements of Ms. Swift, 34, presumes that the right man will “finally” mean the end of her persistent husbandlessness and childlessness. Whatever you make of Ms. Swift’s extracurricular activities involving a certain football star (romance for the ages? strategic brand partnership? performance art for entertainment’s sake?), the public’s obsession with the relationship has been attention-grabbing, if not lucrative, for all parties, while reinforcing a story that America has long loved to tell about Ms. Swift, and by extension, itself.

Because Ms. Swift hasn’t undeniably subverted our culture’s traditional expectations, she has managed, in an increasingly fractured cultural environment, to simultaneously capture two dominant cultures — traditional and cosmopolitan. To maintain the stranglehold she has on pop culture, Ms. Swift must continue to tell a story that those audiences expect to consume; she falls in love with a man or she gets revenge. As a result, her confessional songs languish in a place of presumed stasis; even as their meaning has grown deeper and their craft more intricate, a substantial portion of her audience’s understanding of them remains wedded to the same old narratives.

But if interpretations of Ms. Swift’s art often languish in stasis, so do the millions upon millions of people who love to play with the dollhouse she has constructed for them. Her dominance in pop culture and the success of her business have given her the rare ability to influence not only her industry but also the worldview of a substantial portion of America. How might her industry, our culture and we, ourselves, change if we made space for Ms. Swift to burn that dollhouse to the ground?

Anyone considering the whole of Ms. Swift’s artistry — the way that her brilliantly calculated celebrity mixes with her soul-baring art — can find discrepancies between the story that underpins her celebrity and the one captured by her songs. One such gap can be found in her “Lover” era. Others appear alongside “dropped hairpins,” or the covert ways someone can signal queer identity to those in the know while leaving others comfortable in their ignorance. Ms. Swift dropped hairpins before “Lover” and has continued to do so since.

Sometimes, Ms. Swift communicates through explicit sartorial choices — hair the colors of the bisexual pride flag or a recurring motif of rainbow dresses. She frequently depicts herself as trapped in glass closets or, well, in regular closets. She drops hairpins on tour as well, paying tribute to the Serpentine Dance of the lesbian artist Loie Fuller during the Reputation Tour or referencing “The Ladder,” one of the earliest lesbian publications in the United States, in her Eras Tour visuals.

During the Eras Tour, Ms. Swift traps her past selves — including those from her “Lover” era — in glass closets.

Dropped hairpins also appear in Ms. Swift’s songwriting. Sometimes, the description of a muse — the subject of her song, or to whom she sings — seems to fit only a woman, as it does in “It’s Nice to Have a Friend,” “Maroon” or “Hits Different.” Sometimes she suggests a female muse through unfulfilled rhyme schemes, as she does in “The Very First Night,” when she sings “didn’t read the note on the Polaroid picture / they don’t know how much I miss you” (“her,” instead of that pesky little “you,” would rhyme). Her songwriting also noticeably alludes to poets whose muses the historical record incorrectly cast as men — Emily Dickinson chief among them — as if to suggest the same fate awaits her art. Stunningly, she even explicitly refers to dropping hairpins, not once, but twice, on two separate albums.

In isolation, a single dropped hairpin is perhaps meaningless or accidental, but considered together, they’re the unfurling of a ballerina bun after a long performance. Those dropped hairpins began to appear in Ms. Swift’s artistry long before queer identity was undeniably marketable to mainstream America. They suggest to queer people that she is one of us. They also suggest that her art may be far more complex than the eclipsing nature of her celebrity may allow, even now.

Since at least her “Lover” era, Ms. Swift has explicitly encouraged her fans to read into the coded messages (which she calls “Easter eggs”) she leaves in music videos, social media posts and interviews with traditional media outlets, but a majority of those fans largely ignore or discount the dropped hairpins that might hint at queer identity. For them, acknowledging even the possibility that Ms. Swift could be queer would irrevocably alter the way they connect with her celebrity, the true product they’re consuming.

There is such public devotion to the traditional narrative Ms. Swift embodies because American culture enshrines male power. In her sweeping essay, “Compulsory Heterosexuality and Lesbian Existence,” the lesbian feminist poet Adrienne Rich identified the way that male power cramps, hinders or devalues women’s creativity. All of the sexist undertones with which Ms. Swift’s work can be discussed (often, even, by fans) flow from compulsory heterosexuality, or the way patriarchy draws power from the presumption that women naturally desire men. She must write about men she surely loves or be unbankable; she must marry and bear children or remain a child herself; she must look like, in her words, a “sexy baby” or be undesirable, “a monster on the hill.”

A woman who loves women is most certainly a monster to a society that prizes male power. She can fulfill none of the functions that a traditional culture imagines — wife, mother, maid, mistress, whore — so she has few places in the historical record. The Sapphic possibility of her work is ignored, censored or lost to time. If there is queerness earnestly implied in Ms. Swift’s work, then it’s no wonder that it, like that of so many other artists before her, is so often rendered invisible in the public imagination.

While Ms. Swift’s songs, largely written from her own perspective, cannot always conform to the idea of a woman our culture expects, her celebrity can. That separation, between Swift the songwriter and Swift the star, allows Ms. Swift to press against the golden birdcage in which she has found herself. She can write about women’s complexity in her confessional songs, but if ever she chooses not to publicly comply with the dominant culture’s fantasy, she will remain uncategorizable, and therefore, unsellable.

Her star — as bright as it is now — would surely dim.

Whether she is conscious of it or not, Ms. Swift signals to queer people — in the language we use to communicate with one another — that she has some affinity for queer identity. There are some queer people who would say that through this sort of signaling, she has already come out, at least to us. But what about coming out in a language the rest of the public will understand?

The difference between any person coming out and a celebrity doing so is the difference between a toy mallet and a sledgehammer. It’s reasonable for celebrities to be reticent; by coming out, they potentially invite death threats, a dogged tabloid press that will track their lovers instead of their beards, the excavation of their past lives, a torrent of public criticism and the implosion of their careers. In a culture of compulsory heterosexuality, to stop lying — by omission or otherwise — is to risk everything.

American culture still expects that stars are cis and straight until they confess themselves guilty. So, when our culture imagines a celebrity’s coming out, it expects an Ellen-style announcement that will submerge the past life in phoenix fire and rebirth the celebrity in a new image. In an ideal culture, wearing a bracelet that says “PROUD,” waving a pride flag onstage, placing a rainbow in album artwork or suggestively answering fan questions on Instagram would be enough. But our current reality expects a supernova.

Because of that expectation, stars end up trapped behind glass, which is reinforced by the tabloid press’s subtle social control. That press shapes the public’s expectations of others’ identities, even when those identities are chasms away from reality. Celebrities who master this press environment — Ms. Swift included — can bolster their business, but in doing so, they reinforce a heteronormative culture that obsesses over pregnancy, women’s bodies and their relationships with men.

That environment is at odds with the American movement for L.G.B.T.Q. equality, which still has fights to win — most pressingly, enshrining trans rights and squashing nonsensical culture wars. But lately I’ve heard many of my young queer contemporaries — and the occasional star — wonder whether the movement has come far enough to dispense with the often messy, often uncomfortable process of coming out, over and over again.

That questioning speaks to an earnest conundrum that queer people confront regularly: Do we live in this world, or the world to which we ought to aspire?

Living in aspiration means ignoring the convention of coming out in favor of just … existing. This is easier for those who can pass as cis and straight if need be, those who are so wealthy or white that the burden of hiding falls to others and those who live in accepting urban enclaves. This is a queer life without friction; coming out in a way straight people can see is no longer a prerequisite for acceptance, fulfillment and equality.

This aspiration is tremendous, but in our current culture, it is available only to a privileged few. Should such an inequality of access to aspiration become the accepted state of affairs, it would leave those who can’t hide to face society’s cruelest actors without the backing of a vocal, activated community. So every queer person who takes issue with the idea that we must come out ought to ask a simple question — what do we owe one another?

If coming out is primarily supposed to be an act of self-actualization, to form our own identities, then we owe one another nothing. This posture recognizes that the act of coming out implicitly reinforces straight and cis identities as default, which is not worth the rewards of outness.

But if coming out is supposed to be a radical act of resistance that seeks to change the way our society imagines people to be, then undeniable visibility is essential to make space for those without power. In this posture, queer people who can live in aspiration owe those who cannot a real world in which our expansive views of love and gender aren’t merely tolerated but celebrated. We have no choice but to actively, vocally press against the world we’re in, until no one is stuck in it.

And so just for a little while longer, we need our heroes.

But if queer people spend all of our time holding out for a guiding light, we might forgo a more pressing question that if answered, just might inch all of us a bit closer to aspiration. The next time heroes appear, are we ready to receive them?

It takes neither a genius nor a radical to see queerness implied by Ms. Swift’s work. But figuring out how to talk about it before the star labels herself is another matter. Right now, those who do so must inject our perceptions with caveats and doubt or pretend we cannot see it (a lie!) — implicitly acquiescing to convention’s constraints in the name of solidarity.

Lying is familiar to queer people; we teach ourselves to do it from an early age, shrouding our identities from others, and ourselves. It’s not without good reason. To maintain the safety (and sometimes the comfort) of the closet, we lie to others, and, most crucially, we allow others to believe lies about us, seeing us as something other than ourselves. Lying is doubly familiar to those of us who are women. To reduce friction, so many of us still shrink life to its barest version in the name of honor or safety, rendering our lives incomplete, our minds lobotomized and our identities unexplored.

By maintaining a culture of lying about what we, uniquely, have the knowledge and experience to see, we commit ourselves to a vow of silence. That vow may protect someone’s safety, but when it is applied to works of culture, it stymies our ability to receive art that has the potential to change or disrupt us. As those with queer identity amass the power of commonplaceness, it’s worth questioning whether the purpose of one of the last great taboos that constrains us befits its cost.

In every case, is the best form of solidarity still silence?

I know that discussing the potential of a star’s queerness before a formal declaration of identity feels, to some, too salacious and gossip-fueled to be worthy of discussion. They might point to the viciousness of the discourse around “queerbaiting” (in which I have participated); to the harm caused by the tabloid press’s dalliances with outing; and, most crucially, to the real material sacrifices that queer stars make to come out, again and again, as reasons to stay silent.

I share many of these reservations. But the stories that dominate our collective imagination shape what our culture permits artists and their audiences to say and be. Every time an artist signals queerness and that transmission falls on deaf ears, that signal dies. Recognizing the possibility of queerness — while being conscious of the difference between possibility and certainty — keeps that signal alive.

So, whatever you make of Ms. Swift’s sexual orientation or gender identity (something that is knowable, perhaps, only to her) or the exact identity of her muses (something better left a mystery), choosing to acknowledge the Sapphic possibility of her work has the potential to cut an audience that is too often constrained by history, expectation and capital loose from the burdens of our culture.

To start, consider what Ms. Swift wrote in the liner notes of her 2017 album, “reputation”: “When this album comes out, gossip blogs will scour the lyrics for the men they can attribute to each song, as if the inspiration for music is as simple and basic as a paternity test.”

Listen to her. At the very least, resist the urge to assume that when Ms. Swift calls the object of her affection “you” in a song, she’s talking about a man with whom she’s been photographed. Just that simple choice opens up a world of Swiftian wordplay. She often plays with pronouns, trading “you” and “him” so that only someone looking for a distinction between two characters might find one. Turns of phrase often contain double or even triple meanings. Her work is a feast laid specifically for the close listener.

Choosing to read closely can also train the mind to resist the image of an unmarried woman that compulsory heterosexuality expects. And even if it is only her audience who points at rainbows, reading Ms. Swift’s work as queer is still worthwhile, for it undermines the assumption that queer identity impedes pop superstardom, paving the way for an out artist to have the success Ms. Swift has.

After all, would it truly be better to wait to talk about any of this for 50, 60, 70 years, until Ms. Swift whispers her life story to a biographer? Or for a century or more, when Ms. Swift’s grandniece donates her diaries to some academic library, for scholars to pore over? To ensure that mea culpas come only when Ms. Swift’s bones have turned to dust and fragments of her songs float away on memory’s summer breeze?

I think not. And so, I must say, as loudly as I can, “I can see you,” even if I risk foolishness for doing so.

I remember the first time I knew I had seen Taylor Alison Swift break free from the trap of stardom. I wasn’t sitting in a crowded stadium in the pouring rain or cuddled up in a movie theater with a bag of popcorn. I was watching a grainy, crackling livestream of the Eras Tour, captured on a fan’s phone.

It’s late at night, the beginning of her acoustic set of surprise songs, this time performed in a yellow dress. She begins playing “Hits Different.” It’s a new song, full of puns, double entendres and wordplay, that toys with the glittering identities in which Ms. Swift indulges.

She’s rushing, as if stopping, even for a second, will cause her to lose her nerve. She stumbles at the bridge, pauses and starts again; the queen of bridges will not mess this up, not tonight.

There it is, at the bridge’s end: “Bet I could still melt your world; argumentative, antithetical dream girl.” An undeniable declaration of love to a woman. As soon as those words leave her lips, she lets out a whoop, pacing around the stage with a grin that cannot be contained.

For a moment, Ms. Swift was out of the woods she had created for herself as a teenager, floating above the trees. The future was within reach; she would, and will, soon take back the rest of her words, her reputation, her name. Maybe the world would see her, maybe it wouldn’t.

But on that stage, she found herself. I was there. Through a fuzzy fancam, I saw it.

And somehow, that was everything.

[petermorwood]

An old article, but amusing regardless.

First it was James Lileks and the Gallery of Regrettable Food. What were the photo editors on these cookbooks thinking?

I'm well aware the colour quality of old pictures degrades and yellows, to their detriment, but IMO the images on that website can't have looked very appetising even when new.

There are ways to assemble variegated foodstuffs on a plate that looks attractive, and then there are these.

Dimly-lit meals for one and Sad desk lunches are yet more shuddersome antidotes to lovingly-photographed food porn erotica (porn would be messy close-ups of eating it).

However, despite what the article suggests, food photography doesn't need "the highest-spec kit while dangling from light-fittings for just the right angle" to look good.

*****

Using a phonecam while out with your friends in a crowded pizzeria isn't going to give the best results, but then neither is a joyless packed lunch on a rainy Monday in February, even if shot with a $33,000 camera like this Hasselblad, and full studio lighting.

@dduane's hobby site European Cuisines (down for maintenance) did just fine for years with a Sony W17, a compact digicam with a superb Zeiss lens.

Here are Sony shots of an apple upside-down cake made with Beauty of Bath apples from our own tree (they really are pink all the way through) and a quiche Lorraine just out of the oven.

After a while I got a second-hand Nikon D40 DSLR; the money saved on second-hand let me afford an excellent lens, a top-of-the-line flashgun and that neat little flash which is so much better than the camera's built-in one.

Here's the Nikon's take on last year's roast-goose-and-all-the-trimmings Christmas Dinner, as well as bacon (corned beef is the Americanised version) and cabbage for St Patrick's Day.

Now we're mostly using HTC U11+ smartphones whose cameras are not only top-notch but have excellent low-light capability.

This is good, because our lighting has always been mostly natural daylight with occasional flash and reflector-screen assistance.

Here are U11+ images of soda bread done in a cast-iron casserole or Dutch oven, and Geflügelragout (a stew of roast chicken with red wine and lemon) with saffron-pumpkin noodles.

This has become Brightwood Vintner's Chicken in the Food and Cooking of the Middle Kingdoms project, and why not? It's delicious! Here's DD and U11+ in action, and the noodle close-up she was shooting in that pic.

None of the food we shoot is "styled" for photography with varnish for glossiness, paint for cream, machine oil for honey, microwaved cotton-wool for steam and lots of other cunning but inedible trickery.

Our stuff is all for eating - so much so that getting "photograph the food" and "eat the food" in the proper order can sometimes be a struggle.

Like these crumpets, for instance.

You would, wouldn't you?

I nearly did, giving DD conniptions because she hadn't photographed them yet, and the Kerrygold butter was melting Just Right...

In a choice between shooting Have To Eat images and Want To Eat ones, we'll stay on the Want To side of the fence, and if people looking at those pix also Want To take a bite out of their screens, we're getting the job done.

And we're not hanging from the light-fittings to do it... :->

[racefortheironthrone]

Would you say that “A Christmas Carol” was the anti capitalist story many see it as today? Or is it better thought of as a lament for the decline of noblesse oblige in favour of early stage capitalism and a call for the capitalists to be more like the (imagined) nobles of old?

I'm not as much a Dickens-head as some other folks on Tumblr, but my interpretation is that "A Christmas Carol" is a critique of miserly capitalism. Rather than living a life of plutocratic excess, Scrooge just accumulates for the sake of accumulation rather than using his money to enjoy life and to help others enjoy their lives - which in turn would enrich his own.

So yes, I think "noblesse oblige" comes close to what Dickens was going for. Dickens was the furthest thing from a radical, and what he ultimately wanted was for rich people to be charitable and generous to the poor.

I think the term we're actually looking for here is a phrase that EP Thompson coined: "moral economy." As fully elaborated in a classic article, "The Moral Economy of the English Crowd in the Eighteenth Century," moral economy is an ideology of the socially and culturally appropriate uses of money and economic power (and vice versa the inappropriate misues of the same) - one that doesn't quite rise to the level of full Marxist revolutionary socialism, but inspires mass action against members of the elite who violate custom and tradition.

[im-a-king-baby]

hi! i love all the media things in ELYN so much that i'd gladly have a fic that contains just them: tumblr posts, twitter replies, some online articles, maybe even Prince/Simme fanfiction, i just adooooore what you're doing with it, so thank you so much 🧡

hiii! Thank you, they were so much fun to write (although some more than others were a headache to format XD)

Here is a bonus one that got cut from the main fic just for you:

[transcript of fan shot video of Simme in Los Angeles]

Hola mis amigos! Hope everyone is having an awesome night, I’ve been on tour for a few weeks now and it’s so exciting to be back home, doing And the Next shows here in L.A.! [crowd screams for a full thirty seconds before Simme waves them to be quiet.] Now I know you might be expecting certain things from my tour, but my mom is here tonight - hola mama! - and so we’re going to have a nice, clean show. No naughty language, no property damage and no taking off our clothes! Can you all do that for me? [Massive roar of agreement.] Thanks all, that means so much to me. Alright, our next song is called Fuck this Motherfucker, let’s fucking party!

[Comments]

xXx8787xXx: Isn't this the show where they set the piano on fire?

[escapismsworld]

Out of all my followers, just a few voted in the poll. Still, the majority said yes to wanting more articles. I listened, but I did it a bit differently. I will have articles... but I will not post them here. I don't want to crowd the aesthetics of my blog.

As we all know, Tumblr has a gift option or tip option. Unfortunately, as much as I love to tip other blogs, etc., I can't have that feature because of where I currently live. With that being said...

If you want more in-depth articles and not just mini articles, full-on blogging about history, fashion, art, mythology, objects, and every awesome, amazing, and beautiful thing of interest. If you want to support me and you love my tumblr blog, I've set up a Patreon and a Buy Me A Coffee (pick whatever suits you best; if you just want to donate, Buy Me a Coffee works well for that; if you want to be a member, you can pick either one) where I'll be posting amazing articles and other photos that are not posted here and info that is just a bit too long for your aesthetic lover.

Keep in mind it will take some time to move all my private articles from the past couple of years onto these other sites, but I'll share the links if you want to stick it out...

So if you love learning or want a specific something, and if you want to donate or support me in any way, that would be amazing. You can enjoy this little world we've created together more freely.

All my love 🤎💚

Sarah

[mysound-music]

Emerging on the hip-hop scene with a fresh sound and undeniable energy, music artist Alps has just released his latest single, Keep Pouring, featuring the talented Wiz-Ard. Blending smooth flows with hard-hitting beats, the track perfectly captures the essence of modern rap while offering a unique twist that sets Alps apart from the crowd. Keep Pouring is a deep dive into the hustle and grind of everyday life, a theme that resonates with listeners who are all about pushing through adversity and keeping the momentum going. With the added touch of Wiz-Ard's dynamic feature, the song creates an undeniable synergy, drawing listeners into its catchy hooks and impactful verses. As a rising force in the hip-hop/rap genre, Alps is quickly making a name for himself with his raw talent and introspective lyricism. Whether he's reflecting on personal struggles or celebrating triumphs, Alps brings a realness to his music that connects with fans on a deeper level. Keep an eye on this artist—his journey is just beginning, and with tracks like Keep Pouring, it's clear that Alps is here to stay. featured song ... Alps - **/ placed on: - mysoundMusic hip hop | rap songs but explicit - a fusion ☑️ hip hop pop rnb soul … - it's a Hip Hop playlist - ♥️ Hip Hop ♥️ Rap - mymy that Music (E) **/pending: - Rap Game – Survive the beat - The Ultimate Rap & Hiphop  - Drip Mode  (Rap/Hip Hop/Trap) - RIMA RECORDS - hip hop explicit n that’s a rap - Hip Hop Momma -  Hip Hop n Rap …. - Rap Sushi 4 | By DJ 6rings Alps30 Followers806 Monthly Listeners - Twitter - Flipboard - Linkedin - Tumblr - Medium - ko-fi - Substack - Vocal.Media - Bluesky - iHeartRadio - Player FM - Podchaser - Podbean - Spotify - Amazon - Podcast Addict - Boomplay Read the full article

[petnews2day]

San Quentin inmates send off puppies they raised to become service dogs alongside crowd

New Post has been published on https://petnews2day.com/news/pet-news/dog-news/san-quentin-inmates-send-off-puppies-they-raised-to-become-service-dogs-alongside-crowd/?utm_source=TR&utm_medium=Tumblr+%230&utm_campaign=social

San Quentin inmates send off puppies they raised to become service dogs alongside crowd

Day-to-day life for the residents of San Quentin Rehabilitation Center can be fairly simple, but one program is impacting those inside and outside in a big way. “So, this is my cell,” said Chase Benoit, an inmate at San Quentin. “It’s 4’4″ by 10’1. This right here is my bedroom, my bathroom, my kitchen, my […]

See full article at https://petnews2day.com/news/pet-news/dog-news/san-quentin-inmates-send-off-puppies-they-raised-to-become-service-dogs-alongside-crowd/?utm_source=TR&utm_medium=Tumblr+%230&utm_campaign=social #DogNews

[carbonwriter]

Should I just embrace the randomness of tumblr?

I've not quite sure what I should make of tumblr. I remember it back in the day (I've been online since the late 80s), as being a bit of a dumpster fire.

Having returned, it seems to me they have kinda embraced that notion. To own the fact that it is all full of randomness. To allow people to do whatever they want (obviously the NSFW crowd have had a few challenges)

I've recently moved all my written content onto a server that I own and run, so the worry of that randomly disappearing has gone... So what of here?

I have an account on twitter, but not used it of a couple of years; I keep it to make sure no one else attempts the be me. I'm on Facebook, Instagram, reddit, Mastodon, and a load of other places.

Twitter is toxic and requires too much headspace to filter.

Facebook is connection with kinda-friends.

Instagram is visual candy.

Reddit is topic based conversation.

Mastodon is quiet, with occasion really positive engagement.

I think what I've been looking for, is chitter chatter. Perhaps that is what tumblr is for.

OK, so that is what I'm going to use it for. Posts about my articles at

Random thoughts.

Replogs of random stuff that takes my fancy.

👍 Yeah, that kinda feels good. Let see how it goes.

[wirewitchviolet]

It’s a bit absurd how we’re all keeping our heads in the sand about armed terrorists attacking American hospitals and power infrastructure, isn’t it?

Going to have to apologize upfront for discussing this over here. Topics this dark I generally try to keep over on Twitter where there’s more of an understanding that I am the gal who shares the really horrific news people are missing out on, but as I recently spent a whole post explaining, I am currently suspended from Twitter due to bigots mass-reporting a totally innocuous post until it triggered an autoflagging system, and I have no idea how to regain access to my account. So dark stuff on Tumblr, sorry.

Anyway yeah, as I was saying, terrorists. Like, full on terrorists, the kind of people who decide it’s a good idea to take as many bombs and or guns as they can find, and go to large population centers and kill whole crowds of people, out of a vague sense that doing so will advance some cause of theirs, but on interrogation they tend to just all quote the same incoherent gibberish, because nobody really becomes a terrorist out of a strongly held religious belief, it’s just about feeling alienated from society and getting groomed by a bunch of weird cult leader types into believing that they’ll gain the recognition and respect they crave through killing a bunch of people. Those guys.

A pretty significant number of them, for quite a while now, have been doing these pretty well coordinated attacks in the U.S. There’s the mass shootings, of course, that much I’ve been writing about for what’s seriously coming up on a decade now. That’s still a thing. And more recently, that’s been coupled with bomb threats on hospitals. Specifically children’s hospitals at that. Now, I know for a fact that a significant number of people reading this, as a defense mechanism, are just going to automatically downplay and dismiss that. It’s the whole reason I’m writing this post really. So let me clarify.

It is true that I said there have been a lot of recent bomb threats on children’s hospitals. The article I just linked (you do all know I have a habit of using bold text to note links on Tumblr because the default formatting makes them hard to see right? I’m not just randomly emphasizing things?) is actually about a particular hospital getting threats called in multiple times in the last few months. But hey, it’s not like bombs were actually planted right? They didn’t actually blow up a hospital full of sick children, so, nobody actually died or anything, right?

Well, this isn’t really data that people really bother to collect with this sort of thing, because there’s too many other variables, but you know when there’s a credible bomb threat in a building, they have to shut that whole building down, evacuate it, and keep it shut down for a good long while as people comb over the entire location really thoroughly looking for the bombs someone claimed to have planted.

Now, I don’t know if you know this, but hospitals kind of need to be open and full of people 24/7 to make sure that people don’t die. That’s why we have hospitals. In particular, children’s hospitals are a thing for, you know, young children, who have either serious serious diseases threatening their lives, or need emergency surgery from people specialized in working with smaller bodies. Having children in such states evacuate a hospital isn’t really practical. Maybe not even possible depending on the state they’re in. And even if you leave them there, and doing so doesn’t actually cause them to die in an explosion from bombs someone lied about, taking all the medical professionals out of the building for like a full day means they can’t do the things those kids need done to remain alive, and even if there were no emergency cases when the threat came in, having the hospital shut down that long means new cases where people are trying to rush someone to the special emergency hospital for stuff for children that’s rare and specialized so we have them spaced out way more than other hospitals are... going to be showing up and told they have to go somewhere else, and you know, frequently with hospitalization, getting there ASAP is literally a life or death thing.

So what I’m saying is, whether or not it turns out to be “a hoax” bomb threats on children’s hospitals absolutely lead to dead children, and should always be discussed with that in mind. Kind of a big deal.

And you know what else is a big deal? A group of terrorists coordinating an attack to destroy enough power substations to take out the power to 11 cities for 3 days and counting as of when I’m writing this, at the start of winter. Did you know that happened? People really don’t seem as concerned as they should be.

Now, if you’re actually clicking through on these articles, or you just know me and the sort of things I talk about, you’ve probably guessed that the reason none of this stuff is really being reported on with the sort of panic and awe this sort of thing usually warrants, part of that is because these terrorists are white obviously, but a huge part of it is that the terrorists in question are fully aware of the weird exploit where nobody will pay attention to something if people are talking about trans people. No really, just compare that last story, which is talking about the actual scope and severity of that attack in North Carolina, while stressing that nobody knows what motivated it, and this story from the day it happened, where people are being pretty candid about what motivated it and the whole thing is centered around just quoting a local hatemonger on how clearly this is the wrath of god coming down on “the immoral drag show” she claims “mocked God.”

You can have the story explaining this is an anti-queer bigotry thing, or you can have the one about it being a real serious issue, pick one.

One of the last posts I made on Twitter before getting taken offline was talking about how shocked I was to see President Biden actually using the phrase “transgender Americans” in a statement about a terrorist committing a mass shooting at a Transgender Day of Remembrance event, killing several trans people, and being stopped by two trans people before he could kill anyone else, before the police arrived to... arrest one of the heroes and keep him from checking on his loved ones. In a reasonable world, yes, obviously. How the hell could you even talk about a story like that without mentioning trans people? But in the world we live in? People bend over backwards not to mention these things. Here’s the New York Times’ coverage of the shooting in question, for instance. Not one single occurrence of “trans” in the whole piece.

I’ve seen plenty of other coverage take the extra step with active misreporting, calling the trans woman who got the gun out of the shooter’s hand “a drag queen.” Again, this is typical of both media coverage, and political responses. The erasure I mean, to the point that Biden’s statement was a shocking outlier.

Meanwhile a particular terrorist leader who is largely agreed on as the ringleader of the recent violence, and proudly labels herself as a stochastic terrorist in her Twitter bio even, immediately responded to the news of that shooting by calling for further attacks on other targets in the area. Others openly calling for this sort of violence did dial things down slightly in the aftermath, but only because they are currently holding seats of power they don’t want to lose. Others like the shooter’s grandfather, have a bigger scope for their violence. I don’t even know what to say about stuff like this response form another terrorist leader. This one though let’s be real, is a terrorist actively calling for more mass killings, right out in public.

Now again, you don’t see media coverage of this treating it as seriously as it is, largely because these terrorists keep shouting about trans people, and... the media kinda has it out for trans people. I realize that can come off like conspiracy theory talk, so let me assure you I deal only in conspiracy facts. There is a bias against trans people in the media, full stop. We are blacklisted from reporting, impotent though they are, media watchdog groups have been on people’s cases about all the propaganda they put out for some time now, and hell, The Guardian in particular has faced criticism on this front from... The Guardian. The closest I can find to a mainstream source taking this seriously is Teen Vogue, which, hey, is actually a shockingly great political news source if you haven’t paid attention to what they’ve been doing the past decade or so. And you know, not to put too fine a point on it, but, Matt Walsh, Tucker Carlson, Jessie Singal, Tim Pool, Ian Cheong, the whole staff of Breitbart, these are all people who are regularly labeled as “journalists” and half that list are fully open with their straight up neo-nazi ties. The most popular thread I ever posted on Twitter was about another group of “journalists” getting together for some mob violence, filming it, and writing stories after DARVOing the whole incident. So yeah, a lot of the terrorists I’m talking about today are parts of the media conspicuously failing to report on this stuff.

And a lot more are in the government. Like... this is a link to Kyle Rittenhouse’s wikipedia page. I don’t know what more I really need to say on the subject that isn’t covered by this chronological look at this guy who drove 22 miles in order to find people to shoot who had a problem with a cop shooting an innocent man 7 times and failing to face proper repercussions, successfully finding and shooting a crowd of such people, successfully killing two of those people, and proceeding to then... become the poster child of the Republican party receiving praise adoration and media platforms. Like, that’s really where we are.

So to review- Terrorism, mass murder, hospitals shutting down, 40,000 people losing power in freezing temperatures due to the violent destruction of a massive area’s whole power grid, these are bad things, and we should talk about them more, but we don’t because the “we” who should be doing the talking largely finds these to be great things, actually. That’s bad, and we need to make big changes now.

Meanwhile, I hate to do the begging at the end of the article thing but... I’m about to die? I just lost my sole source of income and I was already living hand to mouth before that? I’m freezing and my legs aren’t working right, I have nobody to turn to, and my only real professional experience is in a field where, again, bigots have conspired to keep me from ever working again. So... it would really, really help me out if you could maybe directly throw me a little support via Patreon?

Or you know, if you can’t do that, because hey times are tough, or even if you can, maybe get the word out via Twitter and/or whatever platform you moved to after abandoning Twitter and let people know, hey, I got shut down there over some total BS, people could maybe stand to raise a big stink over that, point people towards say this blog post here, encourage people to spread that around, maybe let some of the people I care about but have no other way to stay in touch with me know why I suddenly went silent, how I can’t see any of the messages they might have tried to send me, etc.? Because seriously otherwise I have until the end of this month plus however long after it takes for my electricity to be shut off and or me and my cats to be thrown out onto the streets and I am literally going to die because I have like, medical equipment that requires electricity health problems here. Thanks.

[tamofthedragons]

The Pit District

If Hypixel was a city, the Pit district was the shady neighborhood near the edge of town, the one parents told their children to avoid, the one where people who went outside alone at night went missing. But, it did have one thing that no other district did.

Mystics.

-

Words: 1645

AUTHOR'S NOTE Figured I'd start posting my writing by re-uploading my Hypixel stories over here so they no longer exist exclusively on the forums. If you know me from Tumblr and not the Hypixel Pit forums, this might be your first time seeing 'em!

-

At first glance, the district dedicated to the Pit seemed almost quaint. It was much smaller and less crowded than the Skyblock district, or even the Skywars district, but almost as lively. There were rolling hills and green grass and trees swaying in the wind and strings of lights stretching between buildings to illuminate the streets below at night. The markets were busy but not jam-packed, and the Trade Center was impressive enough to interest the occasional tourist.

Today of all days, the district seemed especially charming. The sky was blue and cloudless, and a faint breeze stirred the leaves of trees lining the streets. The dull roar of the marketplace, of people talking, haggling, and announcing their wares, was a pleasant one.

Of course, first glances could be deceiving. The Pit’s reputation was far darker than it’s physical appearance, and for good reason. If Hypixel was a city, the Pit district was the shady neighborhood near the edge of town, the one parents told their children to avoid, the one where people who went outside alone at night went missing. But, it did have one thing that no other district did.

Mystics.

The only items in the kingdom that could hold a candle to Skyblock’s, and they were usually cheaper and easier to hide, too. Sure, taking items exclusive to a certain district outside of that district was highly illegal, but that’d never stopped anyone. Everyone wanted a good sword on their person, to defend themselves from armed robbers or to use on a hacker if they encountered one. To continue the city metaphor, mystics were the restaurant that sold burgers so good it was worth risking the shady neighborhood for.

Of course, in addition to the mystic trade, the Pit also sported a booming black market. Hackers were so common they’d become a part of the economy, selling illicit devices and their services to those who could afford it. There were rumors that it was such a hub for illegal activity that hackers from other districts would visit it to take part in the economy’s dark underbelly. Though so far, no one had backed up those rumors with evidence.

But, you weren’t here for a history lesson. You were here to do business.

Your journey took you past the Trade Center, a large, impressive building that sat proudly in the middle of town. Its walls were mostly clean white quartz and glass, and inside it had high ceilings and tall windows that made it feel like there was plenty of room even when it was full of people. Huge floating holograms listed known scammers, advertisements, and graphs displaying current prices and what they were yesterday. It was probably the best place for trading if you wanted a safe deal with a low chance of something going wrong.

Today, it wasn’t the place for you. 

You snatched a newspaper from a stand outside on your way by and read it as you walked. It was today’s copy of The Hypixel Pit News, the first paper dedicated to the Pit, and one of the most respected. They released articles online too, but trying to read text on a translucent hologram while walking had always given you a headache, so you preferred the physical copies.

An illegal inter-district trading ring had been exposed, there was more drama between high-prestige players, a new hopper group was making threats, and the anti-Conclave protests were still going. Same old, same old.

The sound of shouting tore your attention away from the paper. Not your average shouting typical of the marketplace either, but something more synchronized. More organized.

Hey, speaking of anti-Conclave protests, you’d just happened upon one.

They were camped out on the sidewalk near the Trade Center, chanting in unison, waving handmade signs, the works. They argued that the organization was corrupt and holding them back rather than uplifting them as it was supposed to. It’d been going on for a few days now. Conclave had made a few official statements addressing it, but the protestors didn’t seem satisfied.

Frankly, you didn’t care either way. It didn’t really affect you. At least it made your walk entertaining.

You skirted around the protest, giving them a wide berth. Immediately, you noticed what appeared to be three locals cornering a pair of tourists. That usually meant bad news. You angled yourself to get within earshot while still appearing casual.

“I-I-I don’t know anything about that,” one tourist stammered. “We’re just visiting.”

“Visiting or not, you still have to pay your taxes. Let’s not make this any harder than it needs to be,” one of the locals replied.

“C’mon. Pay up,” another beckoned.

“Everyone has to do this,” the first reassured. “It’s completely normal.”

“Hey!” you called, abandoning any pretense of uninvolvement. “Quit scamming the tourists.”

The three locals turned around, all wearing near-identical sneers. From the colors of the eight-pointed stars pinned to the front of their jackets, you could make out their prestige and level. Yellow brackets, every single one of them.

“We’re not scamming!” one objected innocently. “We’re helping. If they pay us now, they won’t get hunted later.”

“Uh-huh,” you monotoned, unimpressed. “Get outta here.”

“We’re not doing anything wrong!” the other cried.

You shifted your weight slightly so the golden sword dangling from your hip was more prominent, and casually placed one hand on the pommel. It was quite a blade, with a serrated edge indicating Combo: Damage, and a dark red line running down the middle, indicating Lifesteal. Not a record-breaking sword, but certainly a good one. Plus, its presence meant you had the wealth or power to obtain it, which was almost more intimidating than the blade itself.

The yellow brackets backed off.

“Sorry about that,” you told the tourists. “You know how nons are. What did they tell you?”

“Um, something about taxes?” one offered.

“They said we had to pay them or we’d be hunted forever,” the other explained.

You sized them up with a critical eye. Neither wore any mystics, but both had the glowing cyan earring of MVP rank. They weren’t even wearing the eight-pointed star pin of the Pit, which meant they hadn’t actually stepped foot in the combat zones yet. They oozed “I’m a rich idiot, please exploit me” from every pore.

“Wipe that wide-eyed look off your face,” you ordered. “You look like tourists.”

“We are tourists.”

“Well, hide it better. You’re lucky most higher prestiges don’t think you’re even worth scamming, or strangers might have a harder time rescuing you. Keep a hand on your sword and squint at everyone like you expect them to jump you at any moment,” you instructed. “Don’t expect me to save you again.”

With that, you turned and continued walking. You had places to be.

As you advanced into the seedier parts of town, things started to look a little less charming. The buildings were shabbier, the pavement was cracked, and the streets were narrower. Glowing signs and hologram advertisements alike flickered like they could lose power at any moment. There were less people walking these streets, and the ones that did wore good mystics and wary expressions. Rather than shops and cafés, most of the buildings here were taverns.

You were near the district’s dark underbelly.

Then, you found your destination. A tavern dubbed The Mariana, short for the Mariana Trench, and vaguely themed around the map Corals. There was a café downtown called The Aquarium that had done the same thing, but it had gone for a cheerful, colorful aesthetic, with light blue walls, large windows, and huge murals depicting schools of fish. This one had done rather the opposite and mimicked something closer to the deep sea.

You entered cautiously. It was quite dim compared to the sunlight outside, and it took your eyes a moment to adjust. The walls were brick and the floorboards dark oak. Black curtains were drawn over the few windows, and the only light came from greenish bulbs dangling from the ceiling on long strings, likely meant to resemble an anglerfish’s lure.

You analyzed the establishment’s customers quickly before taking another step. A few high-prestige players sat at the bar, the Executioner scythes strapped to their backs glinting when they caught the light. Most of the tavern’s occupants sat at circular tables, sipping drinks and talking in low tones. Not a single person here was without a weapon.

In the far left corner, you spotted what you’d been looking for. Two people sitting next to each other at a table, both wearing darks, and, oddly enough, long sleeves despite the warm weather.

You approached their table cautiously. As you got closer, you could make out fangs sewn into the black leather of their pants. Not only darks, but venoms. Perfect.

They looked up when you neared them. They both had pretty good poker faces, but you could just barely make out distrust in their eyes and the faintest hint of smugness in the curve of their mouths. You noted that neither had the glowing earring indicating a rank. What a curious coincidence.

You planted both hands on the table and leaned closer.

“Weird question, do either of you happen to know someone with . . . a really comfortable gaming chair?” you asked.

To anyone else, the question would seem like gibberish. Perhaps a joke of some kind. But if your assumptions were correct, it’d mean something else entirely to these people.

A slow smile spread over one’s face. He reached down and tugged his sleeve back slightly to reveal a glimpse of shiny metal and tiny glowing lights. You’d been in the Pit long enough to recognize a killaura bracer on sight.

“Maybe. Why do you ask?” he replied.

You pulled back a chair and sat down. You had their attention. No turning back now. You took a deep breath.

“I need someone hunted.”

ORIGINALLY WRITTEN: August 7th, 2020

[bigfrozenfan-fanfics]

Chapter 50 - Honeymaren's Resolution

Links: Chapter overview, Character list, Map, Glossar Rating: M over all Publishing cycle: each Friday at 6:00 pm CEST dst/UTC +2:00 on (link)

Remarks: all my chapters contain carefully selected music tracks (try to use headphones). It’s your own decision if you want to use them or not while reading. The purpose is to musically support the respective mood of the plot. If you can please use a browser for reading (not the Tumblr app) due to the text formatting and music.

The great hall slowly filled up as the citizens streamed in and talked to each other. The mood was still good, although some wondered why more guards were present this time.

Anna and Elsa stood somewhat nervously in the hallway at the end of the throne room, waiting for Kai to tell them that all the citizens who wanted an audience were now present. He stood on the dais next to the queen's high-backed chair, calmly waiting and watching, with his gloved hands crossed in front of him.

The hall was more crowded than usual, but Kai showed his serene, stoic mien as usual, and one could not see his emotions. He knew, of course, from his experience, what was to come today and that the queen and her sister would have to report on the latest events. The only question was how the citizens would take it.

At some point, no more people arrived and the two guards at the entrance of the great hall closed the two high doors. That was the signal for Kai and he now went out to let the highnesses know. He didn't need to say anything, he just gave them a quick nod. Anna and Elsa looked at each other meaningfully and took a deep breath before entering the hall and stepping onto the platform. Anna sat down while Elsa and Kai took up positions on either side of her. Kai pulled out his notepad and a stylus to jot down anything important.

Silence fell in the room, then Anna stood up and greeted everyone present.

“Welcome everyone to our weekly citizens' day here at the castle. I see there are quite a few more citizens present today than I expected, so I probably won't have time to listen to everyone here. But please don't let that stop you from presenting your concerns to Kai at the end. He will, as always, pass on anything important to me. Very well, then, let us begin.”

Anna sat down again and asked the first citizen to join her, who first bowed deeply to her and recited the usual greeting before presenting his problem. Anna and Elsa listened attentively and Kai diligently took notes. Sometimes the case was solved quickly and Anna could make a decision or settle an argument immediately, still a few things had to be postponed because the solution required more effort or involved costs.

This continued for the next hour until Anna finally stood up and made the now inevitable announcement of important news to share. She glanced quickly at Elsa and received back an imperceptible nod and an encouraging little smile.

Anna took a big breath and addressed her subjects. “I’m aware some of you still have inquiries that require my attention. However, I must end our daily audience at this point to attend to an urgent matter that demands the attention of all of us.” Anna let a few moments pass before she had everyone's full attention, then nodded and went on, “I suspect many of you are not only here at the great hall to express your daily troubles to your Queen but to see results. This includes that you want to know about the new findings regarding the article in last Sunday's Castle Newspaper and saw our speech in the castle courtyard.” Elsa then took a step forward, at her side. “On that day, we promised a clarification within two days. I would now like to keep our promise and report on the latest events.”

After these words, an evident tension could already be sensed among the public and quiet murmurs started here and there.

Then Anna started to tell from the beginning, alternating from time to time with her sister, who mainly took part concerning the Northuldra and announced the presence of some of them here in Arendelle. She simply knew them better than Anna, due to her extended stay there. But the calm lasted shortly, when was mentioned the casualty of the Royal Guard, the audience immediately demanded the name of the responsible. From there, tension among the present rose up and almost made people be in terror when they heard that it was not only a single man but even about one hundred.

Loud questions echoed through the throne room, worries and fears were expressed, but unfortunately also voices directed against the Northuldra. The sisters had every effort to prevent an uproar and Elsa emphasized again and again explicitly that peace reigned between the peoples and that these foreign men had a completely different origin.

Anna and Elsa declared Kolgrimr as the main responsible for the violent incident several times and assured their subjects that he would face justice and his crimes would be punished. Furthermore, the Royal Council soon would make new essential decisions regarding this matter.

It took over an hour for all the questions to be answered as far as possible and for the agitated mood to settle down to some extent. In the end, Anna announced the end of the citizens' day and dismissed all those present. While the sisters withdrew, the hall slowly emptied and only Kai stayed behind to note down possible further concerns that had nothing to do with the current situation.

The sisters stood on the balcony a short time later and watched the people stream back into the town. Scraps of words drifted up, revolving around only one thing, this new threat. They looked at each other rather wearily and Anna put her hand on Elsa's shoulder.

“Thank you, sis! I probably couldn't have done this without you.”

“I'm here for you as much as you need me. We can do this together.”

Anna hugged her and they stood like that for a while, then she said, “Now I need a sip of red wine. Will you join me for a glass?”

Elsa nodded and they both went inside. Anna poured two glasses and then they sat down at the long table and pondered while sipping the wine.

~~~

Despite the discovery and capture of the spy, the Natturas and the three other Northuldra were in quite a good mood. It would be a little while before Yelana returned, so Honeymaren and Ryder showed the others the town. There were not many people around, because most of them were now in the castle and so they had a lot of space for their explorations, were undisturbed and did not attract so much attention.

They made a tour through the streets and alleys, looked at the stores and shop windows and wondered what was offered here so everything. Linnea noticed a strange metal structure in the middle of the street at one point and everyone wondered what it was all about. One of the few citizens nearby had watched them curiously and then laughed. He explained to them that it was a well used to bring water up from the depths. He showed them how to operate it and they were fascinated when suddenly clear water gushed from the tap.

It was great fun for all of them as they took turns trying it out and pumping it themselves. One after another, everyone held their hands in the water jet and refreshed themselves, drank or splashed water on each other's faces like little children. They laughed and showed their joy about it without any shame. A few passers-by grinned as they walked by or stopped to watch, especially a couple of parents with their young children who had just picked them up from school.

But Honeymaren, unfortunately, also caught one of the mothers raising her finger and saying to her son, “... but you don't copy something like that behaviour, you hear? These are Northuldra, they don't know wells.”

Honeymaren made sure to put an end to the fun and told everyone about the little incident. They were more or less dismayed and decided, each to his own, that it was probably better to stop acting so conspicuous in public. Ryder, however, still had a big grin on his face and his hair was still dripping with wetness. So it didn't take long for the good mood to return as they walked on.

Finally, they arrived at the marketplace in front of the harbor and decided to try some of the delicacies for sale at the stalls. Honeymaren paid, since she now had Yelana's purse with her. They were especially taken with the small chocolate pralines from a confectioner. He was delighted that they liked it so much and packed them a small bag full for the road.

As they walked on, a large white cloth blew across the square, directly toward Honeymaren. It wrapped itself around her face and upper body when she tried to catch it due to the fierce wind. She had to laugh and free herself from it with the help of the others. She looked around and noticed a tall, rather obese guy in strangely colorful clothing not far from them waving at her. She motioned the others to follow her to find out what he wanted.

“Thanks for picking up the tablecloth,” the shopkeeper said, “My name is Oaken and I sell coffee here, ja? Unfortunately, with the wind so close to the harbor, the blanket won't hold on the table and I'm tinkering with a new invention of mine.”

He took the blanket from her and put some metal balls on thin strings on it. Then he sat down again and knotted one ball at a time to the four corners of the blanket and spread them out. The weight now held the tablecloth securely in place and he clapped his hands, grinning with delight.

“May I offer you some coffee, perhaps?” he asked, and she frowned questioningly.

But after a moment, she agreed. So why not try something new; she thought to herself.

She sat down and invited the others to do the same. But since there were only six seats, Oaken's only two tables were now completely occupied. When he returned with a full cup for her and saw the others sitting there, he frowned in amazement.

“I didn't expect so many guests at once now. You all want coffee too, ja?” he asked as he set the drink down in front of Honeymaren.

They all looked at each other and sniffed the cup from which it was steaming. In the end, Linnea, Myrtha, and Ikka ordered and tasted the black drink as well and were quite fond of it along with Honeymaren. They asked what it was made from and Oaken enthusiastically showed them the coffee beans and readily gave information about the origin and preparation. Honeymaren, meanwhile, played with one of the balls of his invention and felt its weight. Then, suddenly, a crazy thought popped into her head.

“Oaken, do you happen to have one of these spheres and a longer piece of rope on it left for me? I'd like to try something.”

“Sure thing. Wait, I'll get it for you from inside.”

When she had it in her hands a moment later, she stood up with it and checked the connection between the rope and the ball. It seemed tight enough and she nodded with satisfaction. She made a loop and let the sphere spin around in a circle at her side while holding the end of the rope tightly in her other hand. She slowly gave the weight on it a little more slack and eventually let it fly away. It hit a lamppost a few meters away with a loud bang.

A few people turned around startled, but saw nothing noticeable. Oaken was clearly surprised by Honeymaren's aim and that his invention could be used for something completely different.

“What is this supposed to be? A new kind of toy perhaps, ja? You're quite good at it,” Oaken called out to her.

“It was just a test, I had this crazy idea. Can I keep it, Oaken?”

Oaken wondered how much money he could charge for it, but then waved it off with a smile. “Yeah, sure. You keep it.”

After she paid for everyone's coffee, they headed back toward the castle, just past the harbor. Honeymaren pondered, for her idea wouldn't let her go, and in principle it worked, just not for the purpose she had actually planned. She would need a good blacksmith for that.

“Guys, you go ahead. I have something to do and I'll join you later,” she called to the others, who were already a little ahead.

Her friends initially wondered a bit, but then waved her off with a 'see you later'.

Then she turned around and tried to find again the place where she had heard the typical sound of a hammer hitting an anvil during her long walk some time ago. She finally had to ask her way, but had indeed already been in the vicinity. Shortly after, she was standing in a narrow side alley in front of a low building with a smoking chimney.

She slid open the wooden door and entered. Inside, it was a bit gloomy and the smell of coal and metal hit her nose. Someone was heating up the forge. It was a dark-haired woman, dressed in leather pants, a thick apron of the same material and muscular bare upper arms. Honeymaren admired the movement of her muscles as she operated the large bellows with the long lever on it.

The woman must have sensed the visitor at her back, for she turned to Honeymaren, blowing a lock of dark hair from her soot-smeared face. She was pretty; Honeymaren thought so and stared at her wordlessly.

“How can I help?” she asked, not stopping in her activity.

“I ... I want to have a special weapon forged, at least I hope my idea can be used as such.”

“Sure, come closer and explain,” the blacksmith said, focusing again on the forge, where the coals were already almost all glowing orange.

A sword blank lay on one of two anvils to her left, and other weapons and swords hung lined up in special holders on the wall a little farther back. Honeymaren realized abruptly that she could have found no one better for this task than this woman here.

At that moment, another woman came in from an adjoining room. She was dressed the same way and looked almost a little like the other woman with her even curlier dark hair. She greeted briefly and then looked for something in some old wooden boxes on the floor nearby.

Honeymaren stepped closer, took the metal ball with the rope on it from her belt and began to explain what exactly she wanted. The blacksmith raised her eyebrows in amazement.

“I've never heard of such a weapon. Where did you get this idea and how do you plan to use it?”

“I just came up with that a little while ago. I can demonstrate it and I hope that it works again like earlier.”

She picked a target in the near vicinity, a metal can on a table, and let the sphere spin next to her. Then she released the grip on the rope and not a second later the can bounced backwards with a small bang as it hit it. A few horseshoe nails that were in it rolled across the floor. Then she retrieved the sphere with the rope and reeled it in.

“That's the principle. Only the metal would have to be very pointed, and round in the back, and a little heavier overall, too,” she explained.

The woman looked at her impressed, “That was a pretty good performance, and now I see what you're getting at now. It's not a problem at all. Can I take a look?”

After a closer examination, she nodded slowly and now the other woman, curious, joined her and took it in hand as well.

“Very interesting idea, only the rope on it is of poor quality. It will snap sooner or later. But we happen to have a piece of good rope here, it is also a bit thicker and should fit better in the hand,” she finally said.

Honeymaren was pleased and asked how long it would take.

“Tuva is the better smith of the two of us. How long do you think it will take you, honey? An hour, perhaps?” asked the woman at the forge. “The color of the embers will be perfect soon, too.”

“I think that's a very good estimate, Ava, darling.” replied Tuva, as she weighed the weight of the sphere in her hand, examining it.

When Honeymaren realized that the two women were a couple, her mouth fell open in amazement and she looked back and forth between them.

“You two ... you ... you're a couple?” she asked curiously, receiving a bright laugh back from both of them.

“Indeed, and we're even married,” Ava said, showing off the ring on her hand and giving Tuva a smacking kiss on her soot-blackened cheek. Then they both looked a little closer at Honeymaren and smirked.

Honeymaren had to smile broadly, but was speechless at the moment to meet two women who thought and felt like her here in Arendelle.

“So you too ...,” Tuva guessed, correctly interpreting Honeymaren's looks.

The three women looked at each other knowingly and smiled towards them. Then Tuva gave herself a jolt and said, “Well, I'd better start turning your idea into a real weapon.” She clapped her hands, grabbed a suitable piece of metal from the box in front of her, and waved it at Honeymaren with a grin.

Then she grabbed it with a pair of pliers and shoved it deep into the embers of the forge. Ava now did the same with the waiting and already half-worked sword blank and operated the bellows.

“Why don't you grab a stool from over there, ... what's your name anyway?” she said.

“My name is Honeymaren.”

“That's a very nice name,” Tuva said smiling.

~~~

By Honeymaren's estimate, about an hour had now passed and her ears were ringing a bit from the loud hammering on two anvils at once. She could have waited outside, but decided to watch the two women at work. She was fascinated by the power and skill with which the two hurled the blacksmith's hammers at their workpiece, sending sparks flying.

While the metal in the forge came up to temperature again, they had some time to talk. Honeymaren learned how the Diaz couple met, fell in love and eventually married.

“And what drives a Northuldra like you to Arendelle?” asked Ava.

“I was on the run ...,” Honeymaren began, telling them of her imprisonment, liberation by her brave brother, and finally the violent death of her father, Halvard.

“You want revenge, don't you?” surmised Tuva.

“If it is possible for me, yes. But at least I can try to put a stop to Kolgrimr. I don't know how yet, but I need something better than a fighting staff, a weapon I can use at a distance and have at my immediate disposal again.”

“That sounds very dangerous, Honeymaren,” Tuva noted with concern, “You're all alone against how many men?”

“I know, but I just have to do something and try and I already have something of a plan,” Honeymaren sighed and the two women in front of her looked at her sadly.

“I guess we can't stop you, can we?” said Ava and Honeymaren shook her head slowly but firmly.

“Very well then, I will make a special effort to match your new weapon exactly to you,” Tuva said and continued with her work.

Eventually the time came, and after Tuva had balanced the weight of the workpiece with the help of a scale and Honeymaren's help with the counterweight, the new weapon landed hissing in a bucket of water to harden.

“If you want, I'll polish it to a high gloss for you,” Tuva asked at the end, but Honeymaren replied in the negative.

“I don't want to carry anything shiny that can be easily seen at a distance,” she said.

Once the rope was attached, it was time for a final test. She chose one of the two wooden support beams in the big room as her target. She let the heavy spike whirl around at her side and then let it fly. It hit the beam at the edge and stuck, bending a wide sliver of wood outward. She then pulled hard on the rope and caught the metal in mid-air just in front of her head, while half-twisting away in the process. It had worked, but was not entirely safe for herself.

“I guess I'll have to practice some more, but that's exactly how I imagined it,” Honeymaren said with satisfaction, while the two women clapped their hands in admiration. “Thank you so much, both of you! What do I owe you in return?”

“Nothing, Honeymaren! It was my pleasure to help you and an honor as well. But please promise us you'll take care of yourself, won't you? Be careful and return to us in Arendelle someday, or have someone let us know you're okay,” Tuva said.

Honeymaren nodded with a tear in her eye and then the three women embraced for a long, intimate moment.

“I have to go now, Tuva and Ava. It was really nice to have met you and I promise to be careful. Thank you so much!”

As Honeymaren finally stepped outside, she waved to them once more before sliding the large wooden door shut again and making her way to the castle.

~~~

Kristoff had listened to the five Northuldra experiences during their day in the city once they had returned to the castle, less than an hour ago. Only Yelana and Honeymaren were missing when he offered to give them a tour of and around the castle. This included the stables and, once approved by the captain, even the large watchtower in the northwest corner. Kristoff enjoyed being with Ryder as he explained everything to them.

While they were all very impressed, especially with the old paintings in the gallery, Kristoff didn't count on was their great interest in the large kitchen. As soon as they found out that it was Olina who had prepared the Renkok dish for them, they all thanked her profusely and talked for a long time about cooking and the different ways of preparing food among their peoples.

At the end they tried Olina's famous chocolate pralines and had to admit that they were even much better than the ones from the market.

When they were back upstairs, Yelana and Honeymaren approached them.

“We've been looking for you guys,” Honeymaren called out. “Yelana has found the other Northuldra. They are now warned as well.”

“They didn't take it very well and some of them wanted to go back to their family right away. It took me some time to convince them that they wouldn't get anywhere with it, probably quite the opposite,” Yelana added.

“By the way, have any of you seen Mattias?” asked Honeymaren, receiving astonished looks back.

“I think he's with Captain Einar right now, back in the main guardroom near the big tower. He had hinted at something when I spoke to him briefly,” Kristoff replied, “Why?”

“Oh nothing in particular, I just wanted to ask him something,” she said enigmatically and Kristoff shrugged it off.

The castle staff around them had become a bit busier and someone of them let them know that it was soon time for dinner. While everyone made their way up the stairs, chatting as they went, Honeymaren turned, unnoticed by the others, and went outside to look for Mattias.

She let a guardsman lead her to him and Captain Einar. When she entered the guardroom, they both stood up and the first thing they did was thank her for discovering the spy.

“We were just deciding which of us would inform the queen and which would interrogate the prisoner,” Mattias said. “We've only just found out, too.”

“I would like to be present at the interrogation, and I would also like to talk to you privately about what is involved, Mattias,” she replied.

“Well, then, it is settled,” he replied, “I agree to it, for we both seem to know Northuldra questions best.”

While Captain Einar went off to the castle they both made their way to the harbor.

“What do you want to ask me, Honeymaren?” he asked her on the castle bridge.

Honeymaren was visibly nervous as she answered. “Kolgrimr is up to something, and it is here in Arendelle, as evidenced by the presence of this informer. I want to learn his plans by secretly observing his men and eavesdropping on them. But to do that I must go back, near the camp.”

“What? That is far too dangerous, Honeymaren. He's already captured you once, and this time he'll have no mercy on you.”

“He'll be too busy trying to control all those men. I suspect he has kept his abilities from them. If he realizes I'm around he probably can't do anything about me without giving himself away at the same time.”

“You have no way of knowing that, and you don't even know why they're helping him in the first place.”

“I will take care of myself and turn back immediately if I am wrong. Besides, I'll do my reconnaissance rounds after dusk, and they won't see me coming. Moreover, I know every little nook and cranny in the area. I know what I'm doing, Mattias. I'll be hiding most of the time and constantly changing my location.”

Mattias shook his head, but also admired her for her great courage.

“I trust you, Mattias, and I don't want you to tell anyone anything until I'm on my way. I also need a few more things for my plan.”

“All right, I will help you. But maybe the spy will tell us what we need to know, then you won't have to put yourself in danger in the first place.”

~~~

Captain Einar had learned from Kai where the majesties were staying and now knocked on Anna's study. Hearing a 'Come in' from inside, he entered and bowed.

“Your Majesty, Your Royal Highness, I apologize for disturbing you so shortly before dinner, but there has been an incident that will not tolerate delay.”

“What has happened, Captain Einar? Not something to do with our guests, surely?” asked Anna anxiously, standing up.

“No, don't worry, Your Majesty, although the Northuldra were involved. To be precise, it was Honeymaren.”

Now Elsa also stood up and looked at him with her eyebrows drawn together. “What did she do?” she asked.

“She unmasked a spy who was in the process of scouting Arendelle.”

“What?” exclaimed Anna and Elsa simultaneously.

“Please sit down and tell us everything that happened and how it occurred.” said Anna, pointing to one of the two free chairs in front of her desk.

Einar thanked her and described all the events he was aware of as all three of them took their seats.

“Currently, the prisoner is in the brig on the ARN Sunflower. On the advice of Yelana, he wasn't led around the castle grounds tethered, for safety's sake, while so many townspeople were there because of the Citizens' Day. After all, he was wearing Northuldra clothing.”

“Very prescient of Yelana!” noted Elsa, nodding appreciatively.

“Has he been interrogated yet?” asked Anna.

“Not yet, but General Mattias and Honeymaren are on their way there right now,” Einar opened, “Based on the experience of both of them, I think this is probably the best choice as well.”

The two sisters just looked at each other ponderingly for a while, then Anna spoke again.

“Thank you very much, captain. Please keep us informed of any new developments and send them both to me as soon as they return.”

“Of course, Your Majesty,” he said, taking the last remark as permission to leave again. He rose, bowed briefly to the sisters, and left the study again.

He no longer noticed how a heated discussion developed between the two of them about what to do now and what possible consequences resulted from the incident.

~~~

Mattias and Honeymaren, accompanied by the boatswain, who carried a lantern, were led below deck by Captain Holmstein. The brig was a barred, dark crate deep in the belly of the ship. As they all stepped closer with the lantern, they recognized the spy sitting in a corner with his head hanging, not even looking up curiously as the light shone on him.

“Hey, wake up, prisoner! You've got a visitor,” the boatswain shouted, banging his fist against the metal grate a few times with a clang.

The spy leisurely raised his head and looked at them. When he noticed Honeymaren, a hint of anger appeared on his face. He crossed his arms demonstratively in front of him, but remained seated. His gaze was fixed darkly on the young Northuldra.

The captain ordered his boatswain to open the cell and wait in front of it warily as they entered.

“We know you are one of Kolgrimr's men. Where are you from and what are you doing here in Arendelle. What is Kolgrimr up to? Speak!” Mattias roared at him in his deep, powerful voice, building up threateningly in front of him.

The prisoner looked up and just grinned. This arrogance was too much for Honeymaren and she stepped past the general. She grabbed the spy by the collar, yanked him up and slammed him against the ship's hull behind him with all her strength. None of those present had expected her emotional outburst and Mattias had to separate them, while the prisoner looked first surprised and then all the more closed. He pressed his mouth together and stared at her.

“You are holding my people captive. Why? What are you and Kolgrimr planning here in the town? Speak up!” she shouted at him.

“So now you're even giving orders here? What these people offered you in return betray your own people? You won't get a word from me, traitor.”

Honeymaren's mouth fell open in astonishment. Traitor? What had Kolgrimr made them know, and what was he holding them in? There was more to it than that; she thought to herself. The captain and Mattias looked at each other and wondered as well.

Honeymaren reassured the general with a gesture and he let her go again. She considered and then looked the spy in the eye.

“You seem to believe everything Kolgrimr lies to you, don't you? Did you actually know that he has the ability to read minds and track down anyone no matter where they are, that he can manipulate anyone as he pleases with his powers?” she said quietly and forcefully.

Honeymaren hoped for a prisoner reaction, and she was correct in her guts. She recognized an apparent surprise on the man's face before her, it lasted only a brief moment but was very evident. A second later, he hid his feelings again and looked at her with arrogance and despise. That was quite enough for her, she now had confirmation of her suspicions and that made her plans that much easier.

Honeymaren nodded half-satisfied and left the cell again. She left the further interrogation to more experienced and patient men. The other two followed her and the boatswain locked the cell door. When they were on deck she murmured to Mattias, “You saw his surprise too, didn't you?” Mattias nodded. “I was right.”

“What do we do with him? Use a little old-fashioned interrogation tactics?” the captain asked.

“Leave that to me, Captain Holmstein. Take him by dinghy to the courier entrance of the castle tonight. I'll have him locked in the dungeon. No offense to your leadership authority over the ship's crew, Holmstein, but his staying here on the Sunflower is too risky for me if there is an attack on Arendelle. Who knows what might happen to him then out of a desire for revenge. We need him alive,” Mattias stated.

~~~

“So, what else do you need for your dangerous journey? You said you needed a few more things,” Mattias asked her when they were back and standing in front of the castle's crew quarters.

“First of all, a sturdy shoulder bag or something comparable. Sturdy but not too thick rope, a leather water hose and some rations, maybe dried meat,” she said, thinking.

“Have you thought about flint and tinder?” he asked, and she shook her head. “Maybe fishing stuff would be a good idea, too, if you get the chance.”

He took her into one of the storage rooms and they gathered everything together. The shoulder bag became a small canvas backpack with a rolled up blanket she tied to it. She stowed all the utensils in it and Mattias sent someone out to get the food they wanted. In the end, Honeymaren nodded with satisfaction.

“By the way, the spy's reindeer was brought here to the stables, you can take it.”

“I was planning to walk, Mattias. I need time on the road for a few things, and it's also more inconspicuous and flexible.”

“But then it will take you many days to get there.”

“I know, but I have a plan and I'm fast at running. Don't worry, Mattias, I know what I'm doing.”

She hesitated and pondered while looking up at the castle. Mattias guessed what was going on inside her.

“I can understand you well, Honeymaren, you want to leave Arendelle as soon as possible. But you already know that it will be dark soon. You won’t be able to reach a high distance in the short time you have left, then you have to find a shelter for the night since you won’t see clearly the path. Not to mention, you could end up meeting a pack of wolves.”

She looked at him and was about to say something in reply, but he beat her to it, “So then what's wrong with you not leaving until tomorrow morning and taking the opportunity to say goodbye to your family? You know that you would blame yourself forever if you didn't do that. Besides, you could strengthen yourself, sleep one last time in peace and quiet and let everything go through your mind once more. Please don't make any hasty decisions.”

She hung her head and Mattias already thought that she would go through with her plan, come what may. But then she nodded and sighed.

“You're right, Mattias. I actually wouldn't lose that much time if I followed your advice. All right, then. I'll leave my luggage here at the entrance, it would just attract attention otherwise, and I'll go upstairs to join the others now.”

At that moment, Captain Einar spotted them both and came up to them.

“There you two are. I was with the queen earlier, she wants to see you both.”

~~~

Wael had no chance against the two burly men who had not exactly gently dragged him out of the tavern. No one ran after them or was the least bit upset about this behavior. These men seemed to represent a certain kind of power in this village. He wondered about nothing more as they directed him into a waiting carriage and put a black hood over his head. Then they tied his hands behind his back.

He felt the two men sit down next to him and heard the coachman give the horses a tongue-lashing signal to trot off. But he could see absolutely nothing on the long ride. The men kept quiet, so he decided to just start a conversation.

“Is that really necessary, to cover my face? I don't know my way around here in the least, and I always lose my bearings quickly, too. Can't you take it off?”

He received no reply, so he just kept talking. “You will take me to the Kaskader Mountains and to Thord, won't you? It's important that I meet him. After all, you belong to him and ...”

“Shut up, stranger!” said the one on his left, and then went back to being silent as before.

With these guys one just couldn't talk and he had no great desire to receive a blow on the head if he kept trying; he thought and listened to the sounds from outside instead. There were not many sounds to be heard. At one point the carriage brushed against something, probably a low-hanging branch, but otherwise the ride was fairly monotonous.

At some point, he had the impression that it was going uphill, and this feeling lasted for probably two hours. These men must have already been near the village when someone undoubtedly got them for their questions at the tavern. They had been on the road for a very long time now. He recalled his map and estimated the time required for the distance from the village to the mountains. If his assumption was correct, they had to be very close to their destination by now.

About half an hour later they finally stopped and they took off his shackles and hood.

“Get out!” one of them said, pushing his shoulder bag into his hand.

Wael got out and looked around. They were high up in the mountains and only a few trees still grew at this altitude. The view was beautiful, but meaningless to him. He had no idea where he was and there were no clues to discover. As the carriage started up again behind him, he turned and realized he was in front of a large, old estate.

“Lead the way. I'm sure the master of the house will be surprised at you, after all, we don't get very many visitors from strangers up here.”

Wael wondered to hear more than five words as before from this guy. On the other hand, it was no use for him to try to escape now. Where was he supposed to go here? So he went straight to the front door, which a servant already opened for him from the inside before he even touched the handle. He hesitated briefly in surprise, but then stepped into the entrance hall. Behind him, the door slammed shut and the servant held out his hand. Only when he unmistakably winked at the bag, Wael understood and gave it to him.

He was led into a richly decorated salon and to a comfortable-looking white sofa. But before Wael sat down, he examined everything closely. The furniture was old and handpicked, in a style he was unfamiliar with. Everything here looked dignified and valuable, even the sconces had gold ornaments, not to mention the large crystal chandelier above him.

On the wall hung some old oil paintings, mainly portraits of noble families. Where had he ended up here; he asked himself. However, his train of thought was interrupted when someone behind him cleared his throat.

Wael turned around and found himself facing a young gentleman who was dressed in a very distinguished manner and looking him straight in the eye. It was not an unfriendly look, and yet there was something about him that Wael could not quite grasp. He bowed to his host and introduced himself.

“My name is Wael and I am from Arendelle. I am ... was a reporter for the Village Crown and I am searching for someone named Thord.”

“Then your search is now over, Mr. Wael, you' re standing in front of him. But please do sit down. You've had a tiring journey, I imagine. May I offer you something to drink? A glass of brandy, perhaps?”

Wael was taken aback and in no way prepared for this unexpected situation.

“Um ... yes, thank you, Mr. Thord, Sir. A ... um, brandy would be fine with me,” he stammered, causing Thord to grin, who now stepped up to a low piece of furniture and grabbed two crystal glasses and a bulbous decanter containing a light brown liquid.

Wael sat down while not taking his eyes off Thord. His movements were measured and exuded the dignity of a nobleman. Thord sat down next to him and poured both glasses a quarter full. Then he raised his to toast and Wael carefully clinked his.

The brandy tasted exceptionally good and was unlike anything he had ever tasted in Arendelle. It went down the throat smoothly and spread a pleasant warmth in his belly.

“Well, to what do I owe the honor of a visit from Arendelle's most famous reporter? So far from home ...”

Wael was speechless for a moment. Thord had heard of him? He wondered what to start with, thought about what else he had put together at home about this mysterious ... nobleman, he now realized.

“To be honest, it's a longer story. One I'm sure you'd be very interested in, from what I've heard about you.”

“Is that so, yes? Well, we have plenty of time for that after dinner. I have also taken the liberty of having one of the guest rooms prepared for you, as a precaution. I take it you won't mind and will keep me company for another day or two?” Thord looked at him questioningly, and Wael thought he could read something like 'I won't tolerate any refusal' in his eyes at the same time.

Wael swallowed, “Um ... yes, of course. That's very thoughtful of you, Sir. I'm looking forward to it.”

“Excellent! I'm sure we have much to discuss. Cheers!” Thord raised his glass again and the bewildered reporter had no choice but to engage in what was likely to be an interesting game ... here in the middle of nowhere. He toasted with him and smiled a little wryly.

~~~

After Anna and Elsa first thanked Honeymaren for her heroic deed and then listened to the report on the interrogation, Anna agreed with Mattias' decision.

“This way we can continue to interrogate him in private, and I already know who could be very helpful in this matter,” she said.

“Yelana, right?” interjected Elsa, and her sister nodded.

“We can discuss it after dinner, though, sis. Will you join us for the meal, Mattias?” asked Anna.

“Thank you for the invitation, but I would like to go to Halima now. We have something to discuss as well.”

Anna nodded knowingly and rose, “Good, then I'll see you in the morning.”

Except for the general, they now all went to the dining hall, where their Northulda guests were already waiting for them.

Honeymaren was immediately asked where she had disappeared to earlier, but she did not elaborate. Before anyone else could ask, the dinner was served and the socializing began.

Later, many retired to their rooms and Anna asked those who remained if they would like to join her and Elsa for some hot chocolate in the cozy library. They could also take this opportunity to see how far Sorenson had come. Linnea and Yelana agreed, and Kristoff had planned to spend some more time with Anna anyway.

Honeymaren asked Ryder to accompany her and he wondered a bit about it, but followed her curiously. They finally ended up on the balcony in front of the council chamber. It was already dark and the stars were shining in the night sky.

“Ryder, I have something to tell you, but please promise me you won't overreact right away.”

“I don't know what it's about, but I'll try.”

Then she told him about the interrogation, what she was going to do, and that he shouldn't tell anyone anything until she was on her way. Of course, her brother couldn't help himself.

“Are you out of your mind? Even if what you suspect about Kolgrimr and his men is true, you don't stand a chance! I just saved you from him and now you want to go back there all alone? He will kill you as soon as he or his men catch you!”

She had somehow seen this reaction coming and rolled her eyes. “That's not going to happen, believe me. I ...,” she paused, dumbfounded, and narrowed her eyes. “What is this?”

Ryder didn't understand and at first set to using all his powers of persuasion, but then saw her surprised expression turned skyward. She was completely absent. “What ...?”

“Well, that one! Take a look,” she said, turning him around and lifting his head.

The next moment he recognized it, too. In the night sky was a bright apparition, far outshining all the other stars and trailing a white and blue tail behind it. His jaw dropped and he could only gape speechlessly.

“We need to inform the others. Come with me,” she commanded, pulling him along.

However, outside in the hallway, everyone else was already coming towards them discussing, with a small man in the lead gesticulating about things she didn't understand. That man had to be Sorenson; she thought to herself, the one Yelana had told them about last night.

Honeymaren and her brother were grabbed by the hands and pulled along by their mother as she passed them.

“What's wrong, mother?” she asked.

“Sorenson has discovered an evil omen in the sky and wants to show it to us with a .... uh ...,”

“... with a telescope,” Elsa added, walking right behind her. “We have one of those in the castle and sent for Kai to bring it down from the attic to the castle courtyard. Sorenson says the prophecy began tonight.”

~~~

---

Remark: I hope you have enjoyed this chapter! Please leave a comment if you liked the story, I would be pleased to read your opinions, even criticisms. If you want to be tagged as soon I publish the next chapter please let me know, except you are already tagged :-)

Tagging: @karma26 @true--north @annaofthenorthernlights @the-fifth-spirit-elsa

[potato-with-hair]

Fake News

First tumblr Story Ever

As the newest Avenger it seemed that Tony Stark and Captain Rogers were more than comfortable sending you out on all of the shit missions, granted, you could use the time in with your new teammates to learn their little quirks and start working to meld your abilities with theirs so that you could start working together seamlessly, but it was getting ridiculous. You were half expecting to start getting told to go out and help the NYFD rescue kittens from trees and helping the NYPD direct traffic on Broadway in Manhattan during rush hour. Y/N was a technopath, which was a fancy name for someone who could control technology and anything mechanical with their mind, or if you wanted to be technical about it, according to the official S.H.I.E.L.D. dossier:

Y/L/N, Y/N: Main Ability: Technology Manipulation

User can manipulate technology, the sum of techniques, skills, methods, and

processes used in the production of goods or services or in the accomplishment

of objectives. However, most users only can exert control over technological

constructs, such as computers, robots, hardware, and other devices that can be

termed as "technology", in any way. Manifested as a special form of electrical/telekinetic manipulation, a special form of "morphing" which allows physical interaction with machines, or even a psychic ability that allows mental interface with computer data.

Also Called:

· Cyberkinesis

· Cyberpathy

· Mechanokinesis

· Technokinesis

· Technopathy

Pretty cool, huh? Anyway, spring was coming to a close and summer was just around the corner. Tony asked me and Sam Wilson, you may know him as Falcon, to head to midtown

Manhattan because there were some “unsavory” characters hanging around Grand Central Station.

Turns out it was some low-level HYDRA minions that were basically trying to see what kind of trouble they could cause, they had planted a pipe bomb in a waste bin in the middle of the station and it was a Friday when thousands of people would be traveling through the station heading to and from work and school. I think that HYDRA was more or less just testing us Avengers out to what abilities we had and see if there are any hidden capabilities we possessed before they come at us for a full-scale attack.

Sam and I arrived and were able to find the pipe bomb relatively quickly, part of my ability is being able to read the signatures of different technologies and mechanics, and if you don’t think that a bomb countdown timer throws out a red flag, you are mistaken. Anyway, we found it, and rather than call bomb and arson with New York’s Finest, I was able to manipulate the mechanics myself using my mind. I shut down the detonator without ever touching the bomb and made the whole thing inactive within a few minutes time.

Easy peasy, 10 minutes, another fast sweep which took an additional 30 minutes, and Sam and I were finished and ready for our close-ups from the media that always, inevitably followed. We had a small group of media that always showed up whenever a call went out that an Avenger was “working” and there was almost always a small fan base at Grand Central or where ever we were working who would come up to thank us, like we were some sort of rock stars, and as per usual some of the younger men and women took the opportunity to do some flirting with us. Tony told us, unattached Avengers, that any publicity and light flirting and playfulness with the fans was good publicity and would help for the public to relate to us and see us in a positive light. I am not going to lie, I may or may not have had a little thing for our resident speedy Sokovian, but our little flirting in the compound never seemed to go beyond that, flirting. I thought there was a possibility he liked me also, but, so far, nothing. Although I did catch him staring at me quite often and Wanda and some of the guys were always talking to him and then immediately looking in her direction like they were just discussing her. Pietro did seem to always try to be around me and sit near me as often as possible as well. Also when the “fans” would flirt with him, I noticed he never really showed much interest in them, always watching to see what I was doing.

Oh well, time to spend a little time with the crowd before Sam and I headed back to the compound. The New York Times was talking to some travelers about the pipe bomb that was found in the wastebasket and what their thoughts were and how they felt about us being there to “save the day, yet again” when an overzealous “fan” started to get a little handsy with me in the background. He had followed me around and asked me to dinner a few times, flashing cash and his business card a few times, trying to press it into my hand multiple times. I explained I was really bust and thanked him but said I was not interested or available, but he kept perusing me. He was leaning over my shoulder with his hand around my waist from behind, body pulled directly flush with my back and he was in an excited state if you know what I mean, and he was whispering in my ear about some of his fantasies and things that he has dreamt of doing to me. Of course, the camera flashed right as he started to kiss my neck and I had a smile on my face because I was focusing on a sweet 10 year old in front of me asking for my autograph and telling me I was her favorite avenger. If the camera had waited all of 5 seconds more, they would have caught me performing a minor assault on the prick and another 5 seconds would have caught Sam pulling me off of him and flying us out of the station and back to the compound with his hand over my mouth because I let lose a string of explicative’s that would put Wade Wilson to shame.

The next morning I woke up and took a shower, went down to the kitchen and made my normal toast and juice and bowl of fruit, and could not help notice that the Avengers that were there were looking at me strangely, I thought it was because I was still in a sour mood because of that jerk from yesterday and the icky feeling he gave me that I was assaulted by scum. I knew that Rogers, Wanda, Sam, and Nat were on their way to Lagos on a mission. Thor and Banner were MIA since Sokovia, which left Stark, Rhodey, Vision, Pietro and I still here.

“Y/N, so, how was the pipe bomb incident yesterday?” Tony asked seemingly hinting at something

“Uneventful aside from a slight annoyance in the crowd, is there coffee left?” Y/N responded looking at him while rising to get a mug and pour a hot mug to clear the remaining sleep from my head.

“Nothing happened? Nobody special you want to tell us about?” Rhodey chimes in.

“Not that I am aware of or worth mentioning now that it’s done and over with, is there something you would like to tell me about?” Y/N asks looking back and forth to them. “Hey, where’s Speedy, he’s usually down here eating everything that isn’t trying to eat him first.”

Tony looks at Y/N and smirks, “It is strange that you should mention that, he came in about 20 minutes ago, I assume you were in the shower or I am sure you would have heard him, saw the cover of the New York Times, flipped out and, well, here you are, please take a look, we are on pins and needles to know what you think. And I hope you know that all suitors must meet the full team before you becoming an “item” and pass Avenger inspection, and Rogers is particularly tough.” He slid the paper across the kitchen island to where you sat, both he and Rhodey watching your face for a reaction. You unfolded the paper confused and looked at the front cover.

There in black and white at you was a close up of the stranger with his arms around your waist from behind, you leaning slightly forward smiling and the stranger kissing your neck, the little girl you were smiling at was covered by the person being interviewed in the foreground. To someone who was not there and did not know the story, this definitely looked bad, like a very intimate moment caught on film, the headline read ‘Newest Avenger Moving Fast With New York Wall Street Trader’ the article went on to talk about how you just met the guy and did not bother to get his name, but just let him put the moves on you, yadda, yadda, yadda. Apparently, after Sam got you out of there, the “gentleman: in question decided to make a name for himself and gave a short interview making it sound like you approached him and started the whole flirt fest, lead him on, and then abandoned him, with the promise to return. You looked at Tony and Rhodey with wide eyes and a sick feeling in your stomach, “This is the biggest load of shit I have ever read in my life, this is not anything at all what happened. About 3 seconds after this picture was snapped, I basically slapped the taste out of his mouth and would have continued to do so had Sam not gotten me out of there. Flirting? More like this guy assaulted me. This was not consensual or wanted. I told him multiple times I was not interested and refused his advances and invitations to dinner and he kept bothering me. I was talking to a little kid and he pulled this crap when I had my back turned to him.”

Tony went from joking to serious almost instantly, “Okay, we were just going to bust your balls on this a little bit, but this has just become a non-joke. I’ll have Pepper contact someone in Stark Industries legal department to get in touch with the paper to track this guy down, he’ll have had to sign a waiver for publication and we’re going to go after him for liable and harassment. If he tries to come after you for battery for the assault, well, we’ll call that defense, Avenger or not, no one gets to touch you without permission. Y/n we really didn’t know, we were just going to play around with you about this a little, and we had no idea. He didn’t do any weird stuff, right?”

“NO, I mean, I slapped him and Sam pulled me off of him and flew me out of there, anything beyond what he did to me and you would have been getting a call from New York’s finest about bail or my court hearing for homicide. I was shocked, but if it had gone beyond what it was, I would have raged a lot harder than I did. The headline in the paper would have read a lot differently today.” Y/N responded.

“Alright, I know that yesterday was weird and I know that Nat and Wanda have had to deal with crap like this from time to time, unfortunately being an attractive woman on the team seems to let the guys out there think that it is open season to treat you ladies like meat. It is unfair and it sucks and if any of the men on the team are around just say the word and well step in and make sure the guys know it’s not okay, or step back and let you take care of it yourself, whatever you feel more comfortable with. In the meantime, take the weekend off and go to a spa or go shopping or to the movies or whatever you need to do to feel better, charge everything to Stark okay. Just let us know if you need anything alright.” Tony hugged you with one arm and kissed the top of your head. “One thing though, Lightning Legs. He flipped out when he saw this. He thought it was true and got hot and bothered. I would suggest finding him and letting him know what is really going on because the last thing you need right now is a crazy Sokovian kid acting like a jealous boyfriend right now.”

You look us at Tony and across the island to Rhodey, “What is that all about, what is he flipping out about, he brags about all the women he is into and dated back in Sokovia all the time, what does he care about what happens to me?”

“Y/N are you serious? That kid has been crazy in love with you since Sokovia. I swear I was coming close to sending you both on a mission that involved a tropical island and a case of rum soon. If he’s not staring at you, you are staring at him. It’s sickening.” Tony finished with a sarcastic eye roll. Go relax in your room, we'll take care of this. Just try to put it from your mind and well talk soon. With that, you left and headed to the elevator bank to the sleeping quarters level, feeling shitty, but better because you knew Tony would do what he could to help.

You were only in your Bedroom Suite for about half an hour when there was a somewhat frantic knocking at your door. You got up from your bed, put down the book you were currently reading, and made your way to the door, opening it, you found a seemingly tormented Pietro, he entered your quarters without an invitation and started to pace the length of your room, looking at you, Y/N could tell he needed to speak, but he was not sure where or how to start.

“Y/N, I ……. The newspaper, I saw the picture and…… Who is he? Do you like him? I mean does he make you happy? I want you to be happy……… I know that no one will ever be able to………. Not like I do………” Pietro kept starting and stopping sentences, never actually completing any, and getting agitated. You had never seen him this disconcerted before, he was always so unruffled when he would flirt with you before and this was a whole new side to him that you had never seen before. It was like he was unsure of himself and it was not something he was sure of how to process. You walked towards where Pietro was walking seemingly carrying on an argument with himself and reached out for his hands.

“Pietro, please stop, okay, please. It is not what you think, I don’t know that guy. It was fake, it was false, I don’t know him, I did not ask for that, I did not tell him it was okay to touch me or kiss me like that, I was not alright with that, He did that without my permission, and the photographer took a picture and they wrote some fake story to make it seem like I was into it. I did not want that. I don’t know him, I feel disgusted by that.” You start to rub your neck where the creep kissed you, sat down on the plush cushioned ottoman bench at the foot of your bed and start to curl into yourself to make yourself as small as possible as Pietro looks at you taking in your words.

“Wait, moja bohyňa (my goddess,) some guy you do not know came up to you and started to touch you and kiss you without your permission? No, I will not allow this, who is this man; I will go fight him right now. Žiadny odpadok sa nemôže dotknúť mojej bohyne bez jej súhlasu. Nikomu by nemalo byť dovolené pozerať sa na ňu bez toho, aby sa poďakoval bohom, že bola stvorená. (No trash can touch my goddess without her consent. No man should ever be allowed to look on her, without thanking the gods that she was created.) Are you okay?” He sat on the bench next to you giving you plenty of space, not wanting to crowd you. “I will kill this man, why would he think he could touch you, Bohyňa (Goddess,) if I had been there, I would have stopped him immediately, I am so sorry I was not there with you. “ Pietro sat staring forward with a look of disappointment in himself. You leaned over towards him putting your head on his shoulder and he wrapped his arm around you pulling you into him. You snuggled your face into his chest drawing designs on his stomach and chest with your finger as he kissed your head and held you close.

“Tony is going to get the Legal department of Stark Industries to look into the paper and find out who the guy is and get him charged with harassment, and I may or may not have given him a good slap as soon as I got over my shock and realized what was happening, so I figure I should let the cops know everything in case he decided to try to press charges later for battery saying I attacked him. But I promise Pietro, there is absolutely nothing at all going on with that guy or any other guy in my life because I was sort of waiting for someone I had a sort of thing for to maybe make a move, but I didn’t think that he was interested, so I had basically given up hope and just accepted that we would only be friends, and that was okay, but I really was hoping he would let me know he felt the same.” You continued tracing symbols on Pietro's chest with her fingers nervously

Pietro put his hand gently under Y/Ns chin and raised her face so that his clear blue eyes were looking directly into Y/N/E/C, “Do I know this guy?” He asked finally deciding to go with the advice the rest of the team when they told him that Y/N was definitely into him, and Wanda assured him that yes, Y/N thought about him often and was only too nervous to make the first move, but if Pietro would, she would be receptive.

Y/N looks from Pietro's eyes to his lips and back to his eyes again and states “I am sure you have seen him around here, sometimes he’s hard to spot because he’s pretty fast, but when he stops or slows down and doesn’t try so hard to impress everyone he’s really an amazing guy. I have to say to, he is sexy as hell too, and he has this accent when he talks, uggghhh, it does things to me.” Y/N just smiles at him teasingly.

Pietro chuckles and smiling leans in but says softly before he kisses you, “Prednesiem vám básne a texty, ak ma chcete počuť hovoriť, poviem vám všetky veci, ktoré chcem s vami a s vami urobiť, ale nikdy vám nebudem môcť vyjadriť, ako veľmi vás milujem a uctievam. Teraz si môj, ako ja tvoj, navždy. (I will recite you poetry and lyrics if you want to hear me speak, I will tell you all the things I want to do to you and with you, but I will never be able to express to you, how much I love and worship you. You are mine now as I am your, forever.)” He then lays the softest and most soul-baring kiss on Y/N that she has ever felt. It was as if all the passions in the world could have been transferred to her through that kiss and as he softly caresses her face while peppering gentle kisses on her face, Y/N thinks that maybe this stupid picture is not the worst thing in the world to ever happen to her if it is what FINALLY brought her and Pietro together, she figures if nothing else, this will be a brilliant story to tell their kids someday.

Slovakian substituted for Sokovian

Y/N = Your Name

Y/L/N = Your Last Name

Y/N/E/C = Your Eye Color

[venhedish]

In light of a certain wincest-adjacent blocklist making the rounds and some friends of mine getting smacked with the purity hammer, I have things to say for anyone who would like to listen!

In my experience, antis are more concerned with the rush they get from being angry and feeling morally superior than they are with actually engaging critically with us, the text, or themselves to understand why they feel the way they feel.

This is not actually about the incest thing and it never has been. Incest in the SPN fandom is being used as a dog-whistle to draw a dividing line between us and them, and it’s that shitty black-and-white thinking that tons of young people are falling victim to because it’s wrapped up with a bow that presents a neat little package: incest bad. We can all agree on that, can’t we? But what’s so insidious is that this new-Victorian purity movement is only cloaked in a signifier of moral purity. What it actually is is a giant, authoritarian flag waving in the air, inviting the anti-intellectual to join together behind a concept that sounds righteous on the surface but is actually being used to bully, harass, and harm people who are often already marginalized out of their own communities.

One thing to look out for in particular that absolutely fascinates me is the way language is used as an exclusionary, self-selective force that reinforces these boundaries. Go to any one of the big heller/anti-wincest blogs and look at the way they talk to each other. To be clear, almost all groups will eventually start developing a shorthand that makes them easily identifiable to each other, but sometimes I’ll check out that side of tumblr and legitimately feel like we’re speaking two different languages.

This is a really common thing that happens with political and religious movements and it’s happening here for similar reasons! If you’re on the fringes of fandom and you like destiel and you join tumblr or twitter or wherever these communities are active and you do a search for your ship, you’ll find some blogs that seem really cool and have interesting stuff to say, but they’re full of in-jokes and weird terms and meme language. And because you want to fit in—to understand the community you’re joining—you dive deeper, you search back through history and pick up pieces here and there until you finally get it. And by that point, you’ve basically indoctrinated yourself. You’re doing their work for them, essentially.

This kind of thing is done on purpose for two reasons: it helps to signify that people using this language have passed a litmus test that proves this person is one of us, and it makes it harder for the outsider to engage with you on even footing. I mean, this sounds fucking ridiculous, but how the fuck is an intellectually honest person supposed to engage critically with someone who attacks them by calling them J*red-kin??? (I just made that up but I can 100% imagine a heller using it as an insult). I’m not saying this is done on purpose in the SPN fandom. I mean, maybe a little by people who are shit-stirring on purpose, but this kind of thing just happens and it’s very hard to catch on to. We’re all guilty of it. Language is crazy flexible and always shifting and we flex and shift with it as popular phrases come and go.

Look, all I’m saying is that if you actually think about the response to wincest from the heller community, you realize how flimsy their platform really is. Reading and writing about fictional brothers fictionally fucking each other harms no one, and anyone with a brain who actually cares knows this! That’s why the anti-wincest crowd isn’t citing articles or research about the dangers of portraying incest in fiction – because they don’t exist! We can, of course, talk about the impact that uneven power dynamics in real life incestuous relationships have on victims of such abuse, how most people who are sexually abused are abused by a family member, how to be aware of grooming techniques and watch out for red flags that point towards abusive behavior. But we don’t! Because that’s 👏 not 👏 what 👏 it’s 👏 about 👏

Instead, it’s just an overflowing bandwagon jammed full of empty ideas and a lot of people getting hurt because of it. Innocent – let me say it again: INNOCENT people who are exploring sexuality, trauma, relationship dynamics, and just plain old having a good time minding their own business in an ethically safe and victimless way are being threatened and harassed and told to die. Wonder which one is actually more damaging and morally bankrupt. 🤔

Anyway, imagine a world where the purity police got their way. There’d basically be no safe literature left. Nabokov? Cancelled. Rushdie? Salinger? Ginsberg? All cancelled. Imagine antis whole-cloth discarding hundreds of years of religious tradition because of all the shit the gods got up to! This is the same line of thinking that made a generation of moms believe that violent video games led to real-world violence. Fiction has never, ever, been meant to only tell pure stories. The whole world of literature would be narrowed down to, like, a couple cautionary tales and picture books if anti culture could somehow actually reach the inevitable praxis of its desire. 

Taboos have always been sexy. It’s okay to explore them through the medium of fiction. It’s literally the safest, most ethically responsible thing you can do. Please, please don’t let a functionally illiterate hive-mind convince you otherwise!

For an amazing resource to learn more about anti culture and how troubling it is, check out @freedom-of-fanfic. It’s an awesome blog to browse if you’re even a tiny bit interested in this kind of thing!

[moconut]

Whatever It Takes: A Degrassi Season 10 Retrospective (Breakaway, Pt. 1)

Here's where we left off last time: 

Holly J and Sav are locked in a bitter competition for school president, and the most interesting part is that Anya ISN'T pregnant

Bobby revealed himself to be even worse than previously thought, leaving Fiona feeling frightened and alone

Dave embarrassed and objectified Alli but still got a kiss from her

The first two plots carry through into Breakaway, but the third will be dropped for boobs. Am I allowed to say "boobs" on Tumblr anymore? Guess I'm about to find out.

CW: domestic violence

We open with Fiona teetering on the school's roof and calling Declan. Tinsley has told Declan that Fiona's roof-walking is the talk of the town; meanwhile, apparently no one noticed Bobby loudly hauling Fiona down a staircase yesterday. Fiona reveals Bobby's abusive nature, and Declan's supportive reaction is, "Are you sure?" She insists, and he asks if she wants him to intervene. "I'll deal with it," she replies. This will surely end well. Also, some NPC shouts "Jump, why don'tcha?" off-screen and WOW is this school full of terrible people.

We quickly find out what Fiona meant by "dealing" with Bobby: embellishing her faded bruise with make-up and posting it on Twitter. I'm sure this will never come up again. The next day, Bobby confronts a finally angry Declan and insists Fiona made it all up. He brings up the article of Fiona kissing Declan that he apparently has ready on his phone at all times, reminding Declan that his sister is well capable of making questionable decisions. An upbeat Fiona comes up to Declan, who then chews her out for "trashing" Bobby's reputation.

We switch back to Degrassi, where Clare has her first big plot this season. She's had quite the makeover from previous seasons--short hair, no glasses, and clothing that's not her old Catholic school uniform. Jenna, who stole Clare's boyfriend KC last season, overhears a cryptic conversation about a "surgery" between her and Alli and jumps to the obvious conclusion: Clare must be getting a boob job. 

Drew shows up to simp over Sav again for some reason. We find out that reason is that he's apparently into DILFs: he's heard (and believed) the Anya-is-pregnant rumor, thinking Sav is a stand-up guy for sticking around. Meanwhile, Holly J deviously brags to Declan that Sav would surely be out of the race now. But Declan is preoccupied; he tells Holly J Fiona lied about Bobby. But Holly J thinks there could be merit to Fiona's claims and that Declan should be kinder to her. Holly J is somehow more sympathetic towards Fiona, the person she should be least sympathetic towards, than anyone else in the show even though they've had maybe two positive interactions.

Meanwhile, Anya and Sav prepare to further ruin their lives for no good reason. They're going to tell her parents about the not-pregnancy, and Sav even reveals he's willing to marry Anya. She finally cracks under the weight of being a horrible person and admits the pregnancy was a ruse to lose him the election. He asks why she would do something like that, and she says she wanted to come clean but didn't want him to hate her again. "I guess that's kind of sweet," Sav replies, which is absolutely the sane and realistic reaction here. The two somehow stay together.

Back in New York, Declan apologizes to Fiona and says he'll believe whatever she says happened. She shows him her bruised leg, which is honestly what she should've taken a picture of in the first place. Fiona wishes she had someone to listen to her, and Declan notes that Holly J had been asking about her. Fiona is pleasantly surprised, and once Declan leaves, she picks up the phone...to book a flight!

At Degrassi, Jenna reveals the big news to troubled jock KC: Clare's bobs will become the large bobs. Jenna is concerned by KC's titillated (haha) reaction, somehow surprised that a teenage boy enjoys the concepts of boobs and their varying degrees of largeness. 

Holly J sees a crowd and grabs Connor to ask what's going on. "Assault?" Connor answers in what's one of the funniest lines of the show. He says Sav is a hero because he knocked up Anya, much to Holly J's disbelief. Anya shows up and moves her extremely Canadian textbook to reveal...

Betrayal! Holly J threatens to tell the truth, and Anya counter-threatens to blame Holly J for the whole idea. 

In gym class, Clare lectures the boys about enjoying Photoshopped images of women's bodies. Jenna implies Clare's hypocrisy here, and the two exchange vague barbs about "surgery" while Connor mimes having huge bobbos in the background.

Fiona surprises Holly J at Degrassi with her traveling luggage, having apparently not even stopped at a hotel or anything first. The two go to the Dot to share some classic orange juice, which is for some reason the official drink of this show.

Now it’s time for the presidential debate, held in the cafeteria so only students in that lunch period can attend. Holly J says Sav isn’t ready for the responsibility and an NPC cheers her on with a spirited “Yeah Holly. Yeah.”

Sav retorts that he balances all kinds of things, including…impregnating Anya! This announcement is met with raucous applause, because the school knows it’s been too long since they’ve had a pregnancy plot.

Fiona’s mom marches into the school to confront her, saying they need to talk. Fiona blames Holly J for ratting her out, even though she’s the one who used her mom’s credit card to buy a plane ticket.

In the required subject of Media Immersion, students are enjoying their new balls when Mr. Simpson appears on screen with an announcement: the presidential votes are in. It’s…

Wow, a surprise! Also, Mr. Simpson literally said that when he announced it.

Fiona takes her mom to the Dot and has told her about the abuse off screen. She worries about being a disappointment and drama queen, but her mom undergoes character development by affirming her worth and swearing to (legally) fight back against Bobby. Fiona is clearly still reluctant to cause more of a scene by pressing charges—and even more reluctant to return to New York at all.

Where will this all go next? You’ve probably already seen this show and therefore know. But if you’ve read all this, you clearly don’t mind the recap. So thank you for continuing to indulge my nostalgic fixation, and see you next time!

[hwkhs]

Terms of Endearment

summary: what the bnha characters call their s/o with a little imagine to go with it

pairings: hawks/takami keigo, dabi/todoroki touya, amajiki tamaki, togata mirio x gn! reader

warnings: none

style & genre: headcannons; fluff (but for hawks it’s not because it just came to me, it’s still fluff though!)

notes: the imagines are longer in this one :) i need to catch up on the manga everyone’s freaking out rn and i want to know why and i need to finish prep work for school does anyone remember how to do calc

and reposted because tumblr algorithm ahehe

Part One | Part Two | cont. soon…

Hawks/Takami Keigo

what he would call his s/o: little bird, lovebird, lovely

he thinks it’s cute if he adds “bird” somewhere in there

he likes it when you call him “birdie” or something like that so he calls you one of the two above so you guys can match

i feel like he’d be the one to use nicknames the most out of all the characters just because

You are both patrolling on opposite sides of the city when a villain appears out of nowhere. There aren’t enough reinforcements near you and Hawks knew the alert was coming from your patrol area. You have a fairly strong quirk, enough to get you into the Top 10, however, he had a sense that there was something else amiss.

His fears are confirmed when he sees you laying on the ground in a pool of your own blood. His attention snaps to the villain hovering above and sends his feathers towards them before flying up himself, red overcoming his vision.

It may have only been minutes after but the villain is detained and he is by your side in seconds. Your quirk is barely keeping you alive and he scans the area to see other heroes who fought with you with the same injuries only less serious. Holding you in his arms, Hawks places his ear to your chest and releases his breath when he hears your heart beating.

Your eyes crack open but the pain is unbearable. He sees you looking at him and he brings your head to his chest. “It’s okay, little bird, you’ll be fine. Help is on the way.”

Dabi

what he would call his s/o: doll/dollface, sweet

a little shit

he says these nicknames with a teasing tone all the damn time and it doesn’t matter if you are male, female, nonbinary - he’ll call you DOLL because he thinks you’re cute

he’s never been in a serious relationship so calling someone these names is pretty important because he actually cares about you

“Hey, doll.” You jump at hearing the voice behind you until you realize who it is. He chuckles to himself as he sauntered over to where you were, just closing the door behind you to your room.

He is already used to being quiet, with your parents being home and all and them being pro-heroes no less. Your relationship with the blue fire user had sprung up almost spontaneously but you wouldn’t trade it for the world, and neither would he.

Much back and forth had gone on, mostly on your part, but you both had come out stronger from it. While you didn’t necessarily like his profession, you couldn’t say you were too keen of the heroes either. Whether that was influenced by him or not, you would never say.

In the midst of your thoughts he had already gathered you in his arms and thrown you both into the bed. Being a villain living a shabby building didn’t provide him with much luxury so he was happy to know that he had you to hold onto and a comfortable bed to lay in.

“I missed you so much, dollface.”

Amajiki Tamaki

what he would call his s/o: bunny, butterfly

another one who makes me soft

he’s so innocent so it takes a bit before he starts calling you these

the first time he called you bunny/butterfly he was so embarassed until you told him you liked it and even then he would still flush even though HE said it to YOU

You hold onto Tamaki’s hand tighter as you drag him to another booth. Being in a crowded area wasn’t his forte so he appreciated when you pulled him away from the other people to more secluded areas. It was his idea to bring you to the festival for your anniversary and you felt immensely happy to know he would go through with human interaction if it made your day. He even brought along his camera to take pictures.

“What do you want to eat?” You point at the menu that was full of delicious sounding crêpes. You both choose what you want and the dish is given to you in a pretty basket. The large smile on your face doesn’t go unnoticed as Tamaki holds the camera slung around his neck.

You look up at his red face when you hear the camera shutter go off. He has a soft smile to which you kiss his cheek. The picture of you is cute.

“You have a beautiful smile, bunny.”

Togata Mirio

what he would call his s/o: sunflower, pumpkin, honeybee

the perfect™ man pt. 2

he gives off just WHOLESOME WHOLESOME boyfriend material right here this man oh my god help

cheesy yet cute names for you though his favorite is calling you sunflower

“Sunflower, have you seen my–” Mirio’s words get caught in his mouth when he sees you napping on his bed. Not only that, but in his hoodie no less. He was bigger in size so the article of clothing engulfed you almost entirely.

You slept soundly, soft snores coming from your mouth as he made his way to lay beside you. As if on instinct, you snuggle closer to his warm body, face finding rest in the crook of his neck. He smiles when he hears you let out a sigh of content before returning to your previous state.

‘Good timing’, he thinks to himself, ‘I was actually looking for this hoodie.’

[solarscholarsofmagick]

4 Ways to Juggle Adult Life With Your Craft

As the years go by, teenagers who experiment with witchcraft grow into adults. Some of these adults keep with the craft and find a lifestyle that really speaks to them. But, as we grow into adulthood, life (and our responsibilities) change. All of a sudden, we have jobs, relationships, finances, and more. At the end of the day, this means that life becomes busy. So busy, in fact, that sometimes our craft becomes lost and it become hard to find time between it all.

Miss your craft? Here are some tips to help you find your magick again!

1. All the Small Things, True Care Truth Brings

Magick doesn’t always need to include elaborate, skyclad rituals. There are tons of small, magick-filled actions that you can easily incorporate into your life on the fly.

A simple cleansing. You can clean more than your physical body in the shower. Imagine the soap taking the dark sludge of negative energy with it down the drain.

Charm your perfume as a quick and easy glamour. You can also do this to your make-up as well! Glamours are essentially real-life shape-shifting and/or invisibility spells. Here’s a quick glamour, if you don’t know where to begin:

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Ingredients:

A rose quartz crystal

An amethyst crystal

10 (preferably small) regular quartz crystals

A black candle

Procedure:

Find a flat surface.

Place the candle down and place the rose quartz in front of the candle and the amethyst behind the candle.

Place 5 of the regular quartz crystals to the left of the candle and the other 5 to the right. The crystals should form a circle around the candle.

Light the candle and chant, “By my will, I shall control perception of me.”

Wait until the candle burns out.

Place the amethyst, rose quartz, and 1 of the quartz crystals either in your bottle/cap of perfume or in a baggy near where you get ready for the day. This will need to be charged once a week!

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Take 5 minutes each day to say your thanks/prayer to your gods. This doesn’t need to be spoken out loud. You could even think it while on the bus!

Coordinate the colors of your outfit with your intent for the day. For example, wear blue to help with a stressful event, yellow if you want it to be a happy day full of good communication, green if you are asking for a raise, et cetera. Colors hold power!

As an easy offering to your gods, make a playlist dedicated to them.

2. Going Incognito

Sometimes, we want to proudly display our witchiness. However, with the stigma behind witches, sometimes we want to be recognizable to other witches, but not to the mundane.*

Wear crystal necklaces. While the popularity of this is growing, every time I see someone wearing a crystal necklace, I wonder.

Wear clothing with your deity’s image or symbol(s) on it. Not only is this noticible to other witches, but this is also a wonderful and easy way to worship said deity.

Try out rune/sigil nail art. To others who are not familiar, they will appear as simply abstract art.

Magickal symbol tattoos. The same logic as the last point applies to this one.

Find a community of witches near you! Having a community means that there is a space where you don’t have to hide who you are. Back in the so-called olden days, we could use a website called Witch’s Vox, but at the time of writing this article, it is going away soon. Instead, it is easy to find a community by looking for your local pagan society, Facebook groups, or other social media. You can even find a community online! Websites good for that include Reddit, Tumblr, and the Amino app.

3. Baby Shield Me One More Time!

No matter how busy, actually, especially if you’re busy, shielding is a very important task. If you are an empath, one could argue that it’s absolutely necessary. By shielding, I do not mean walking around with an actual shield. It means using your magick to protect yourself from unwanted negative energy. Sometimes this energy comes in the form of the stress from those around you, too many emotions or energy from a crowd around you, and even a magickal (usually psychic) attack. This writer’s favorite way of shielding is to imagine a golden, shimmering, impenetrable bubble.

4. You’re Stressed? Have You Tried Yoga?

A little stress is good for you! It’s what kept our species alive by telling us, “Hey, you should worry about this for your survival,” such as for finding reliable food and water and guarding against predators. However, there is a line (that is different for every person, dog, cat, and hedgehog), where it becomes unhealthy. Too much stress can impact your sleep and eating habits, your mental health, your productiveness, and even your physical health. If your stress is so bad that it is severely impacting your quality of life, you should consider speaking to a medical professional. So, as you read the tips below, remember, magick should be a supplement to medical help, not a substitution!

Carry a rose quartz with you. This crystal is known for its strong properties of calming and confidence. Alternatively, selenite will continually cleanse and shield your aura from negativity and/or harm.

Burn a blue candle/wear blue clothing. Once again, we reach the idea that colors are powerful! Blue is the most common color used for calming. Try burning one while meditating!

Meditating is probably one of the most irritating thing that people suggest when you say you are stress, but it really has the potential to help alongside professional help. The point of meditation is to work on controlling your state of mind. It is also a wonderful way to reach a solution to a particular problem that has been stressing you out.

Cleanse your working and living area. Chances are, your stress has caused the area to be saturated with negative energy. The more you stress, the more negative energy seeps from you, which causes more stress, becoming a vicious cycle.

Ever heard of Fung Shui? It is defined as a system of laws considered to govern spatial arrangement and orientation in relation to the flow of energy (qi), and whose favorable or unfavorable effects are taken into account when siting and designing buildings. Basically, it means that the way you organize your furniture has an impact on how energy flows around you.

Have any personal favorites for how you incorporate your craft into your adult life? Share them in the comments below!

*The Solar Scholars of Magick are not comparing the attitudes of people towards witches to those attitudes towards religious and ethnic minorites.

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