#look I got respect for people who love mediocre white men.

[klysanderelias]

Me every time the AMCA crew starts talking about Adam Driver in the sequel trilogy

[redwiccanrobin]

I keep seeing people say the live action show is going to be bad only because Bryke is no longer involved. Now, I’m not particularly interested in the show because live action remakes just don’t do anything for me, personally. But I think y’all are giving Bryke way more credit than they deserve. Let’s discuss.

First, I think we should acknowledge the more problematic aspect of them creating the show in the first place. While I love Avatar, Bryke are two white men who took the aesthetics of many different Asian cultures to create their world. And most of the voice cast were also white. If there were Asian voice actors, they were either a background character or a villain (besides Iroh and Zuko, of course). Now, I know that some of you may have read that and thought about how the actor playing Sokka is not only white but lied about his ethnicity. Don’t worry, I’m mad at that as well and I’m beyond frustrated that Sokka has been whitewashed not once, but twice in the name of a live action interpretation.

And speaking of live action interpretations, let us not forget Bryke’s role in the 2010 movie. They announced their decision to leave this new show due to it not matching their vision. But they had no problem with the film that casted almost exclusively white actors to play characters of color. Again, if there were POC in the movie they were either background actors or villains (again, besides Iroh and Zuko). When people bring up the movie, they blame Shamalan for every aspect of it. Yes, he did not direct a good movie. But, at the end of the day, Bryke wanted this movie to happen. Everyone else, including Shamalan, wanted a season four but they were dead set on the live action movie that whitewashed most of the characters. And they were fine with that. That didn’t clash with their vision despite relying very heavily on non-white cultures to make their show.

Outside of the whitewashed movie, their creative choices are… interesting, to say the least. And we didn’t get to see those because the writers pulled their weight and tweaked the original concepts. Toph? Bryke wanted her to be a boy and be in a love triangle with Aang and Katara. It was the writers who made her a girl. Azula? Again, Bryke wanted her to be a boy and, again, the writers made her a girl. Katara fighting sexism in the Northern Water Tribe? They wanted her to be fighting for Aang, not herself. It was the writers decision to add in Katara fighting against a patriarchal system. Many of the episodes that people point to as their favorites (Zuko Alone, The Puppetmaster, The Southern Raiders) were not written by them. Yet, they get the pats on the backs from casual viewers and even some dedicated fans.

Do you know what happens when they do have creative control? At best, it’s mediocre, at worst, it’s bad. Let’s first take a look at their continuation of this universe by looking at Legend of Korra. The writers that made those iconic and beautiful episodes in ATLA? For the most part, they’re no where to be found. And it shows. LoK was a mess from the very beginning and never quite got its footing. Yes, I will acknowledge that Nickelodeon fucked them over. Yes, I do have respect for them for sticking to their guns and making Korrasami an item and giving us not one but two bisexual women of color. But besides that? It’s just a very mediocre show with mediocre writing.

But we see how truly bad things can get with the ATLA comics. Now, I do need to acknowledge that they didn’t work on that comic alone. So, like the movie, there are others to blame for the mess. But Bryke signed off on everything and wrote some of it themselves. And, boy, are they bad. A large number of the ATLA fandom do not like these comics and there’s definitely a reason why. Including out of character moments, prominent sexism with how the women are written, and just downright bizarre discussions, it’s not that much of a surprise that we don’t like to acknowledge it. In my opinion, no one got screwed over more in those comics than Katara. They make her a trophy girlfriend. A shadow to Aang rather than being her own character. That girl we watched in the show, the one who was vibrant, layered, complex, was gone. In her place, a hollow shell. And they would continue to show disrespect for their own character in LoK where she has been upgraded from trophy girlfriend to trophy wife. They didn’t even care enough about her, besides her being the wife of Aang and the mother of his children, to give her a statue! All the feminism we see in the original show? It definitely wasn’t Bryke.

I don’t know how this new live action show is going to pan out. It could be great, it could be bad. It could just be meh. But none of those outcomes have anything to do with whether or not Bryke was involved. Because they may have created ATLA, but they weren’t the ones who truly breathed life into it.

[bohemian-nights]

Let’s talk about the changed between white book laena to black show laena

Book leana had a pretty awesome life. She married at the age of 22 to a man she loved, traveled the world with him, had 2 babies and they lived happily on driftmark with her family together until she passed away at childbirth despite her loving husband doing everything he can to save her. + her husband remarried 6 months after her death.

Now let’s talk about show leana

She married daemon much younger than book laena, was neglected and unloved by him, was forced to live away from her beloved family and burned herself to death because “feminism” 🤡 only to have her husband sleep with another woman on her fucking funeral. And the showrunners claim they wanted to respect her character?????? Disgusting.

In the book laena is the only wife that daemon seemed to truly love. (Until nettles). He never cheated and they had a happy marriage. But when she’s black suddenly she’s the second choice to the white female lead. What a fucking joke. And then they absolutely spit on her by having her husband sleep with said white female main character on her funeral. This show treats its black characters like shit. I really don’t understand why people aren’t talking about this.

This shows deranged fandom tells you everything you need to know about the problematic way they treat black characters. We haven’t even got nettles’s casting yet. The most important dragon seed. Literally who gives a shit about the others? But I wonder why we have their castings but not the casting of the only canonically black character in the dance???? If nettles is not in season 2 I’m going to drop this show. If they’ll introduce the dragonseeds without nettles they are fucking disgusting.

All of this is why I criticize this shitty show and equally shitty fandom👏🏽

People try to act like you’re the crazy one for noticing how these changes affect the treatment of the characters, but nope fandom racism, more specifically fandom misogynoir, is real and it’s happening with HOTD.

Book!Laena was treated with love and respect, but the moment she became Black-ish she became worthless to both the showrunners and the fandom. All she's good for is to be a prop/placeholder. Hell, when she died people seemed more concerned about Vhagar, a dragon, rather than the woman who lit herself on fucking fire.

They made Laena into a stereotype just to make a crazed white woman’s death look better than it was and this demented ass fandom cheers it on.

Because she’s Black and not a cookie-cutter stereotype in the source material, Nettles' whole existence is a problem to these people and she must be cut, erased, reduced, etc.

They try to say she’s completely irrelevant. That the only reason people like her is because she's Black or out of spite, but I can think of a dozen white characters who don’t even come close to reaching her relevancy to the plot

This is why she’s always included where some characters like Ulf, Hugh, Sara Snow, Alys Rivers, Gwayne Hightower, and Silver Denys are omitted, and 5/6 of those characters are confirmed for s2. And I'm not trying to say none of these characters shouldn't be included(well we could do without 2 of them), but they aren't more important than her.

Nettles literally has all the qualities people usually like in characters(the ordinary girl who despite all odds does the unthinkable, she’s a survivor, she’s a final girl, she has one of if not the most powerful men in the realm willing to die for her, and she becomes a goddess like figure) yet she’s hated for it because she dares to be Black. They won't even try to relate to her or see her importance because she is Black.

They’d rather prop up psychos or mediocre flops just because they are white rather than ever admit that Nettles is an interesting and integral character to the Dance. She’s awesome. The man who created these freaking books that you claim to love and swear his word is law thinks she’s awesome and yet you want to deny that she’s awesome and has no real value because you’re scared shitless she’ll upstage your psycho(book!Missy Anne)/boring(show!Missy Anne) fave.

It’s nuts and like you, I won’t be watching s2 if Netty’s not there. They found time for a maid who shouldn't even be there, propped up Addam to the Gods, and gave Hugh an unnecessary sex scene, all while cutting Nettles out. Nope. I’ll skip straight to s3 cause I’m not dealing with this show's BS and blatant disrespect. It’s unacceptable!

[gingerylangylang1979]

Why I’m Not Feelin’ a Sydney Love Triangle

While I can respect fans seeing possibilities for our ingenue having potential with several men on The Bear I just really hope that doesn’t happen. I’m not one of those people that is against ANY romance on the show but having a love triangle does seem a bit soapy and honestly I just don’t think Sydney is that flaky. 

I’m not saying I’ve never loved shows that have a love triangle, I just usually love those shows IN SPITE of there being one. I find it usually makes me not like the person at the center as much even if I previously adored them. Plus, I hate seeing female characters look that indecisive and not self-aware. Something about it just comes across as immature. Maybe it’s just because while I have personally been capable of liking two people at the same time I’ve never been in a Bachelor A or B scenario. It just seems unrealistic that any competent person would be struggling over something like that in pursuit of a deep relationship. Just choose one or choose none. I never walk away from those plot lines viewing the woman as super empowered or desirable, I think she just ends up looking childish.

Now there is poor embattled, repressed Carmy. First, I just don’t want Carmy having to compete with anybody. Boy has enough suffering and doesn’t probably catch feelings easily. It would be nice to see him navigate romance without feeling like he needs to smoke a motherfucker. Second, Carmy needs friends, male friends. He lost a brother who seems to have been more like a stand-in dad. He seems to have been a loner most of his life. As dysfunctional as last season was he did establish bonds with Marcus and Richie and I think he needs camaraderie, not a challenge and bad vibes. There is a male friendship crisis. Let Carmy have guy friends!

Then, we get to the options. Carmy versus Marcus and Carmy versus Richie. 

As much as people harp on a power imbalance between Carmy and Sydney, the greater one exists between Carmy and Marcus (plus Sydney is technically Marcus’ boss, too). Now I can see Carmy maybe getting jealous of the friendship between Sydney and Marcus, I don’t think it will go beyond him mistakenly thinking something is up. And as much as people claim Carmy and Sydney have a strictly friends/mentor vibe that’s the vibe I get from Sydney and Marcus. Yes, they bonded fast but almost too fast like they are family. I see them as the two young Black professionals that are like, hey we in this together. I don’t see any sexual tension, like at all. No longing looks, no stolen glances, no touches that stand out. It’s more like I got your back, let’s giggle and talk shit. Them in a relationship also serves no narrative purpose. There is no challenge. Would either of them grow in a vital way? Would it add to any existing plot lines? No, it would be the definition of having a relationship just to have one, IMO. I also think Chester and Marcus could be a couple. 

Now, Richie. Granted, Richie and Sydney (also his boss) have an intense vibe that could be sexual tension, but this would be the messiest and most disappointing move. Like, serious broken relationships over what would just be merely a lusty hookup. And let’s not forget how disrespectful Richie has been to her. Like, at any other job he would be fired and have a potential lawsuit on his hands. The misogyny and harassment is kind of over the top. Even if the sex was explosive it just would not be enough to redeem how he treated this precious young Black woman just trying to be excellent. It just kind of grosses me out as a young Black woman. I could never be with a white man that treated me like that. We could get to cool, but never lover. Sorry. Richie also is kind of a loser. People say Syd is too good for Carmy (which I balk at, he just needs to heal), so no way in hell Richie is on her level. Richie has some good qualities but we have a man that is just kind of content with mediocre and lives in the past. What is the appeal for our fair lady? Carmy may be struggling emotionally but he has a maturity Richie doesn’t and has accomplished a lot and has a vision... that he shares with Sydney. Plus, Carmy and Richie would never be the same. Carmy is all Cousin got and Cousin is as close to Mikey as he will ever be again. 

So yeah, I know some people may really ship Sydney with more than one person or may just like maximal drama but I’m just not here for that kind of crazy on a show that already has enough crazy. Carmy deserves better, Sydney deserves better. Let the slow burn simmer. 

Bonus: Nobody looks at Sydney like Carmy looks at Sydney. The fucking end.

[sweetkingdomstarlight-blog]

Lee bodecker + degradation kink (PRETTY PLEASE)

Pairings - Lee Bodecker x Female Reader

Words - 2114

Warnings - spanking, fingering, degrading language, daddy kink, anal fingering, D/s dynamic, edging, orgasm control, facial, cum play, masturbation

a/n - This is just utter filth, literally pwp. I am submitting it to @buckyownsmylife new first anniversary writing challenge. This fic was partially started in Discord last night and my lovelies asked me to write it so here we are. I know the gif is Bucky but I swear I've used all the Lee gifs so I'm moving on, don't be mad at me. It has been beta’d by my new wifey @bitterqueenofhearts who is amazing but any mistakes you see are my fault. If you are under 18 then you shouldn't even be here dude, please kindly scroll on by. Let me know what you think.

You were at a party drinking with your friends when, as usual, things got a little out of control. The Henderson brothers were causing trouble, getting into fights and smashing anything they could pick up. Looking at your best friend Amy you both gave each other the ‘lets go’ signal, but before you make it out the door you hear the police sirens, groaning at what you know is going to happen next. You both take a seat on the porch swing and watch the people around you scatter like cockroaches.

You were all of legal drinking age and technically hadn’t done anything wrong, although Dean’s parents might disagree when they see the damage left behind. You both sat back and waited. Watching the familiar figure of the Sheriff approach, Amy jumps up. “Daddy, you here to take us home? Our ride appears to have vanished.”

He scowls at the two of you, shaking his head and tutting. He walks inside without saying a word and assess the damage, turning to both of you to ask what happened. You both profess to know nothing, telling him truthfully that you were actually planning on leaving when he arrived. He points to the car across the street and gives you the keys to get in.

You climb in the back seat together and giggle about the boys at the party, none of them really caught your eye. You’d always preferred older men, and it’s just a shame that older men don’t usually look twice at you. Looking past your friend and watching her dad through the car window you squeeze your thighs together, trying to ease the throbbing you feel in your core. It doesn’t help much, but it means you can focus on whatever it is she’s talking about now.

Lee climbs in the front seat and winks at you in the rear view mirror, smirking when you bite your lip to suppress your smile. You try your best to ignore him throughout the journey, but he keeps looking at you in the mirror and distracting you. As you pull up to their house, Amy asks if you’ll stay over for the night but you have work in the morning and need to get home. Lee says he’ll drop you off, so you wave to Amy and move to sit in the passenger seat this time so you can direct him to your place.

Pulling up to your new apartment, you thank him and smile as you get out of the car, fishing your keys out from the bottom of your bag as you climb up the steps to the door. You turn back when you hear the car door close and get a fright when you see Lee, marching towards you with a look on his face you don’t recognise. He cages you in at your front door, looking down at you and enjoying feeling you squirm against him.

“I didn’t know you had a new place, finally moved out and acting like a big girl, huh? I think I should take a look around, make sure it’s safe for you. I’m sure your Pops would be grateful.” You nod your head and turn, opening the door and climbing up the stairs to your little home. There wasn’t much to it, just a big room with a bed, a few chairs, a tiny kitchen and a separate bathroom.

You sit on your bed and watch as he checks all the windows and looks around at your things. “What were you thinking wearing that little dress tonight? Were you hoping you’d bring someone back and have five minutes of mediocre sex? I thought you were smarter than that.” He sits down next to you on the bed and places his hand on your knee, his fingers rubbing a pattern that sets you on fire.

He looks around the room once again and sees something shiny sticking out of the drawer on your bedside table, you follow his line of vision and your eyes widen. The box of condoms sticking out of the drawer is not what you want him to see, and even worse, he tells you to stand and pass the box to him.

“Please, Lee, don’t do this. I’m an adult now and I don’t have to do what you ask. Now you’ve taken a look around please feel free to show yourself out.”

As you turn to walk away he grabs your wrist and pulls you back to him, making you stand between his thighs and running his hands up and down your back. “Such a big girl are you? I wonder how you would feel if I had to teach you a lesson about respecting your elders? Especially the ones who are trying to make sure you’re safe.”

You whine as his hands travel down your body, gripping your ass firmly and kneading it, spreading the cheeks apart and squeezing until you gasp. “What’s wrong, Princess? I thought you were a grown up now, surely you can handle a little massage?”

Gripping his shoulders you miss what he says, trying to breathe deeply so he doesn’t know how effected you are by his hands on you.

“I told you to get over my lap Princess, don’t make me wait any longer.” You shake your head and look down at him, he’s absolutely serious. Patting his thick thighs and raising his eyebrow, challenging you to defy him. You take a deep breath and lay over him, gasping when you feel him move your dress up and rub over your white cotton panties.ou can feel how wet you are and you know there’s a wet patch soaked through. Without warning he slaps the back of your thigh and chuckles when you squirm against him, hissing as he rubs over the now hot skin. “Count for me, Princess.” Slapping the skin just under your ass, you moan out the number two and grip his thigh as you squirm again.

He grips your cheeks once again, pulling them apart and gripping them firmly. “You know what, I think these little panties might be in the way.” He rips them off you before you can stop him, bringing them up to his face and inhaling the scent on them. “Fuck Princess, you smell amazing. These belong to me now.” He says, stuffing them into the side pocket of his trousers and looking back down at you “lets see, what we have here now?”

His thick hands once again kneading and spreading you apart, he hums to himself when he notices how wet you are and drags his fingers through your slick. Listening as you whine for him, he licks his lips and rubs harder, showing your clit no mercy, the sounds you make have him rock hard.

Stopping for a moment, he waits, listening for your reaction and smirking when you beg for him. “What’s that? You want my fingers back? You know how to ask for them, you little slut.” He waits for your answer, but when you don’t respond he spanks you and admires the jiggle when his hand hits your ass. “You know if you don’t tell Daddy what you want he’s gonna leave you here all alone.”

You push your ass up and wiggle it, silently begging for more. Normally he wouldn’t be so cruel, but he knows you eye fuck him whenever you see him in the uniform. He sees when you clench your thighs together, he even knows that you stare at his hands when you think he’s not watching, biting your lip and probably imaging all the ways he could use them on you.

“Be a good little whore for me and you can have what you want.” He slides his hands over your legs, scratching and nipping at you, enjoying the whimpering he’s causing. “Ok, I guess you don’t want it then. I thought you were going to be good for Daddy, but I suppose I was wrong.”

He hears something so faint he almost misses it. Grabbing your hair in his fist, he pulls you up. “Fuck, Daddy. Please. I need your hands on me.” Grinning at you and letting go of your hair, he pushes two thick fingers deep inside you, curling them and rubbing them over a spot you didn’t even know existed.

“So fucking tight for me. You’re the perfect little whore, aren’t you? I think you need more than my fingers, though. Don’t you?” You moan as he keeps moving his fingers in and out of you, feeling your juices dripping and leaving a wet patch on his thighs.

Your eyes roll into the back of your head and you almost miss the moment he spits on your tight puckered hole, circling his thumb around it. You make a deep groan from the base of your throat and he slowly pushes the tip of his thumb in, swearing under his breath at how tight you are. He can feel you clenching around him as he fills you up and can’t wait for you anymore. “On your hands and knees in the middle of the bed for me, princess.”

Admiring how easily he gets you to do what he says, he strips down, tilting his head to the side as you look at him over your shoulder. “Touch yourself for me.” He sees the conflict in your eyes but you don’t make him wait too long before rubbing your clit while he watches. “Such a good fucking slut for me, tell me who’s pussy this is.” He asks, slapping his cock against you and slowly pushing in, stopping once just the tip is in and not moving. “I won’t ask you again, who does this pussy belong to?”

You try to push back, you need to cum so badly it hurts, but he just grips your hips painfully tight, stopping you before you can get more of him. “I asked you a question, you better answer me, princess.” You whine and moan out as he holds you still. You want to answer him, you really do, but you also don’t want him to win. Deciding to tease him right back you kneel there completely still and just clench around his tip, smirking when you hear his breathing pick up and the swearing he does under his breath.

It doesn’t last long. He spanks you so hard you almost fall on your face, but his grip on you remains strong. He thrusts forward and you both groan as he finally fills you up, setting a fast pace. It doesn’t take long before you’re both panting and moaning. He slips his thumb back inside your ass pumping it in and out, keeping rhythm with his hips. The feeling is like nothing you’ve experienced before.

“Daddy, I’m so close, please don’t stop, fuck!” You scream out, gripping the sheets below you. He can feel you squeezing him tightly, he knows you’re about to cum, so he stops. You scream out for him to keep going, but he leans forward and chuckles in your ear. Shouldn’t be such a fucking brat then, should you, Princess?”  You whimper and immediately start to rub your clit, hoping you can make yourself cum without him.

So close, so fucking close. Before you cum, he flips you over and pins both of your hands above your head in one of his, using his other to slap his cock on your swollen clit, each tap making you whimper. “Who does this pussy belong to?” Finally answering him, you scream out his name and he just shakes his head looking down at you. “Open wide and stick out your tongue.”

You do as you’re told, looking up at him and pleading for him to fuck you again, but he just pouts at you. “Aww, does my little cock slut want to be filled up?” You nod and he grins at you. “As you wish.” Palming his cock and splashing his cum on your face and in your mouth, groaning out your name as he does. You lay there in shock, coated in his cum. “Swallow it.” He demands groaning, as you do as you’re told, sucking it off his fingers as he smears it across your face.

He sits back on the bed, legs open and stares at you. “You may finish yourself off now.” You eagerly spread your legs, but before you can touch yourself, he clears his throat.. Looking up at his smug face, he smiles at you. “But only after you’ve cleaned me up, come and use that mouth of yours, Princess.” It was going to be a long night.

[limbo-limbo-limbo]

A Superstar Is What You Are

A/N: I decided to base this on the movie “Funny Girl” with Barbra Streisand just a little. Hope you enjoy! Songs used: Body & Soul by Tony Bennett, Amy Winehouse + I’m a fool to want you by Billie Holiday

ᴛᴀɢ ʟɪsᴛ: @youbloodymadgenius​

ᴘᴀɪʀɪɴɢ: Ivar x Black!OC

ᴘʀᴏᴍᴘᴛs: 20. Wait a minute, wait a minute. You ain't heard nothing yet! (The Jazz Singer)  &  32. You have bewitched me.body and soul. (Pride and Prejudice)

“Come on, just walk through that door and get this over with.” Standing in front of the door, Hattie tried giving herself a pep talk, she’s been jittery since last night, where she contemplated going through with this plan. 

Standing yet not moving an inch from her position she began reading the elegant yet alluring print of the words that read “The Tinted”. She remembered the first time they came into town creating a lot of buzz for themselves in just a short couple of weeks they became the best performance theater to grace the deep south.  

Turning the golden knob of the door, she stepped in guiding herself to the main theater where she knew the gentlemen would be waiting for her. 

She spotted three men seated at a table, in the far right corner of the room. All three men were vastly different in appearances yet somehow you could tell wealth and respect followed them. The man in the middle was dressed casually for a middle class man, he had to be about in his late 40s as the wrinkles showed age was not too kind to him. The man on the far left had to be around the same age as well, but if he wanted to easily lie and say he was younger, he dressed far more fashionable, decorated in rings and a gold chain which must have cost him too much money. The last man in the room was around her age. Hattie presumed he must be one of the older gentlemen's sons or just worked there, he dressed the same as her, mediocre yet the wealth laid behind his eyes. 

"Sirs? My name Hattie and I'm here to audition to be a part of your show, that you have round here." Hattie smiled. Hoping her confidence would ease their suspicion of her. The man on the left looked at her, grinning at her, yet it didn't reach his eyes.

"I'm sorry, but we can't allow you to audition." The man in the middle said. He smoked his cigarette, letting the smell in gulf her nostrils, grimacing at the smell.

"And why not good sir, I have just as much talent as the girls you usually allow to be up on that stage." Hattie was annoyed, she knew coming there was a bargain because of her appearance, but talent was talent and she had it. 

"You're pretty, but you're not like the other girls they're-" 

"White? Is that what you were going to say, I know who I am and I'm proud of it, sir I'm a star and if you give me a chance I'll have you swimming in bucks of cash, what do you say?" Giving him a look of reassurance, she hoped he would take the proposition. Not many white men in town gave black people a chance leaving most of her friends and family doing all sorts of odd jobs, but she wouldn't, she couldn't be one of those people.

"I'm sorry miss, but we ain't giving you this job, we'll have a mob outside our doors every night and I'm not risking my business because of that." The three men quickly began packing up their items as it seemed no one else was approaching, as they started to leave Hattie was panicking. Her dream was slipping through her grasps and she didn't know how to catch it. 

"Wait a minute, wait a minute. You ain't heard nothing yet!" Blocking their path leaving no room to escape, she tried reasoning with them hoping they heard her pleas yet they edged her out the way going out the door leaving her in the empty theater. 

Hattie was embarrassed, she wondered what went through her mind that made her think this would work? 

Her mother told her repeatedly to just go ahead and work at the sewing factory with her and the aunties. What type of life was that though? She thought.

Finally snapping out of her thoughts she decided to examine the room she was in, hoping to imagine what could have been.

Taking the steps to the backstage, she gained access to the main stage. She couldn't comprehend how anyone would get tired of the view in front of her. She began to imagine an audience awaiting her performance. Waving gracefully as if greeting her fans, she took her place in the center of the stage. 

Closing her eyes, she went to her safe place, the inviting smell of grits and bacon overtook her nostrils, Hattie could see visibly her mother at the stove. Looking at her surroundings she realized how broken her home was, the house has been disheveled with the wood chipping away because of termites, the old furniture that reek of something salvage from the trash and sat in the sun for awhile, yet she wouldn’t trade it for anything for that was her home and she was protected. 

The vocals of Billie Holiday played through the radio the beautiful song only played on Saturdays, making this her mother's guilty pleasure once a week to enjoy the sweet sounding of the blues. The house was either filled with church music or silence.

I'm a fool to want you  I'm a fool to want you To want that can't be true  A love that's there others too  I'm a fool to hold you  Such a fool to hold you  To seek a kiss not mine alone  To share a kiss the devil has known 

She could feel the longing and pain in the words as she sang, she never knew love, Hattie didn't even think love was possible for her, generations upon generations the family always picked your husband, it didn't matter if you knew each other or not, the fate of her love life was decided and she had no say in it. 

Feeling tears well up in her eyes, she could feel her breathing become unsteady from the sheer realization that she couldn't take charge of anything in her life. She thought this would better her life and then maybe she wouldn't need to get married to some man for financial stability, yet the truth of reality hit her, she knew nothing really happened the way you wish it to be.

Clapping began to grace her ears, alarming her. She quickly opened her eyes to where the sound was coming from spotting the young man from earlier, who didn't say a word, watching her with admiration in his irises. 

"You! Where did you learn to sing like that?" Hattie smiled. 

“I-I don’t know, being in the church everyone got to sing whether you want to or not.” Staring at the man, you heard a sigh of disbelief come from his mouth. Never had he heard the sweet vocals carry that much emotion, the sound of her voice put him in a daze as he envisioned memories of a love lost.

"I should leave, Thank you for the compliment, but I wasted my time coming down here." Stepping off the stage, she wished she could stay on it forever, a part of her heart yearned to stay there longer however it wasn’t her time to. 

“You’re in.” she stopped, shocked at what the young man said. 

“You can’t be serious with me, those two older gentlemen said and I quote that I couldn’t do it, hell they didn’t even let me sing for them, so tell me…” 

“Sigurd, my name’s Sigurd.” 

“So tell me Sigurd, how am I in the show?” Hattie said. Giving Sigurd a look of curiosity as to what he will say.

“Because You’re worth the risk, Our girls here are nowhere near as good as you hell I don’t even think they can do what you just did. I want to bring real music back into this place, when my father Ragnar and uncle Rollo started this place they hoped to establish music, real music back into the people’s heart, but they have been blinded by capitalism and can’t see reason, you can make them see.” Hattie could see the look of sadness in his eyes as he thought about his time here, Sigurd was a lover of music and could play any instrument that his fingers graced, but his father and uncle had pushed him to the back and he wanted out. 

“I have a song I want you to sing that I made and I need you...Sunday night we’re having a big concert for my brothers who are returning from war and let’s give them something they won’t forget.” Hattie couldn’t help but smile at the mischievous idea Sigurd conjured up. She started thinking heavily about the pros and cons that could happen but all her heart was telling her to do was agree. Agree to the adventure, what did you have to lose?

“You have yourself a deal Sigurd. Gosh I can’t believe it’s coming true.” Kissing Sigurd on the cheek, Hattie leaped into his arms thanking him for this opportunity, bidding him goodbye she ran home to prepare herself an outfit, hoping to not disturb her mother who was sleeping on the couch, she tiptoed to her room and once inside got to work on her outfit.

                                •• ━━━━━ ••●•• ━━━━━ ••

As the days got shorter to the final day, Hattie privately met with Sigurd to practice with him when Ragnar and Rollo were nowhere in sight. She found a friend in Sigurd and he greatly in her, He told Hattie how hard it was for him to make his family proud of him, constantly compared to his brothers. Hattie could understand being reminded of others' accomplishments leaves you feeling agitated. 

It was late into the night, she waited. Her mother usually went to sleep at this hour, but tonight was the night she decided to stay up longer. Hattie sighed as she waited near her mother’s bedroom door praying the lights would turn off, she knew she only had a few hours to get to the theater before the show began. 

The shuffling of footsteps alerted her, she held her breath not wanting to draw attention to herself. The sound of the light switch being turned off, quickly her feet threw her towards the front door and to the bus station. 

Arriving at the back door, Hattie banged desperately onto the door hoping Sigurd would hear her. Sigurd didn’t tell a lie when he spoke of this being a big event, Hattie spotted a multitude of cars parked miles and miles when dropped off at the bus station. Photographers lined up at the entrance snapping photos of anyone who was deemed important, she didn’t recognize anyone that could be celebrity status, but how would she know if they were famous, the only thing she knew of famous people were the voices she heard from the radio, never getting a visual of who they truly look like. 

Finally the door opened, revealing Sigurd. He was dressed very handsomely wearing aa black suit with a dark green tie that highlighted his eyes and his hair was slicked back into a ponytail, yet he still had his fluffy bangs you liked about him. 

“Boy am I glad to see you, something told me you would not come.” 

“Of course I would come, Sigurd, why would I miss upsetting your father and uncle.” Laughing at Hattie remarks, he stepped aside to let her in. He thought she looked cute in her outfit, he could easily tell it was handmade, but it worked for her.  

“So have I missed anything?” Hattie said.

“Some of the girls are doing a number right now, but when you hear singing in the rain, I want you to stand behind the curtain and wait till you hear me playing our song.” Hattie nodded, she could feel her heart beating rapidly as the time tick. She had to greatly thank Sigurd for taking a chance with her, he was putting everything on the line just for her to perform. But he said she was worth the risk and she was starting to believe it. 

Sigurd hid her backstage, telling her that his father and uncle were in the audience, asskissing his brothers probably so Hattie didn’t need to worry about any mishaps for now. The chords of Singing in the Rain began to play and her heart stopped. Let the show begin. She thought. 

Standing behind the curtain, she could see Sigurd on the piano, and the other band members. They looked at her suspicious till they realized it was you, the mystery girl. Sigurd didn’t let you meet the others but boasted about you and your vocals, they thought it was weird, but they were just there to play, not ask questions.

“Hattie, remember to just feel the music, don’t think about my father or your mother, in this moment they don’t matter. This is your moment, take it.” Tears welled up in her eyes, Sigurd always had a way with words and today was no different, she was glad she made a friend like him in this harsh world. 

“Same to you Sigurd, you’re an amazing composer and if your father and anyone else can’t see it, to hell with them. I’m proud of you Sigurd, you’re a good man.” Wrapping his arms around her, they stayed in each other's embrace. They knew the hardships both carried and thats all they both wanted. Someone to understand. 

Letting out of her embrace, Sigurd handed her the microphone and proceeded to the piano. She breathed heavily as she tried to shut out the negativity. She could hear words from her mother, Ragnar, Rollo, Her aunties, and even herself. Tonight was her time and nothing was going to ruin it.

Looking at Sigurd, He gave her the nod signaling he was going to change the song. The mysterious yet alluring chords played, everyone in the audience had confusing expressions as the dancers and singers stopped shocked at what was transpiring. Soon enough the curtain came up and she could almost cry the sight of everyone. They all looked beautiful to her dressed in the finest garments. In reality she was the sight to see, many people gave questionable looks as to what was going on, while others looked at her with disgust. Hattie didn’t care though. 

Spotting Ragnar and Rollo looking quite pissed at the sight of her she turned to Sigurd to quickly sing the song.

[Sigurd] My heart is sad and lonely For you, I sigh For you, dear, only Why haven't you seen it? I'm all for you, body and soul

[Hattie] I spend my days in longing Wondering why it's me that you're wronging I tell, you I mean it, I'm all for you Body and soul 

[Sigurd] I can't believe it, it's hard to conceive it That you'd turn away romance, oh [Sigurd & Hattie] My life, a wreck, you're making You know I'm yours for just the taking I'd gladly surrender myself to you, body and soul

Opening her eyes she was greeted with looks of astonishment, Silence filled the theater as everyone stared at her. Hattie felt like an insect being inspected right about now, but she couldn’t lie and say she didn’t feel alive while up there.

Finally the silence was disrupted by a male seated next to Ragnar, clapping as he stared deeply into her eyes. He had the brightest blue eyes and he had to be about her age as well. He was gorgeous. 

Soon after applause and cheers was all around as they stood up. For me? She thought. She honestly couldn’t believe the sight in front of her, she looked to where Sigurd was and saw him smiling happily as he stared out into the crowd as well. Finally looking at Hattie, she mouthed genius to him and he could only bow at her compliment. 

“One More song girl!” 

“Oh yes please another one.” 

“Sing some more!” Smiling from ear to ear, Hattie looked to Sigurd for advice and he did the only thing he could do. Play another song.

                               •• ━━━━━ ••●•• ━━━━━ ••

“That was amazing Sigurd, did you see how those people acted once we started singing?” 

“No, It was how you sang, I told you that you were a star Hattie.” 

“It’s only because I had the best Musician and composer in my corner.” After singing for hours, they were in the dressing rooms for a much needed break. Chatting up about their little plan. A door knock cut their conversation short. 

“Sigurd, can I have the room real quick?” Looking at the man who spoke, there he was. The gorgeous man from earlier. You looked at Sigurd telling to get out. 

“I’ll be right back Hattie...be careful with him okay?” Nodding your head, you bided Sigurd a bye and watched the other man in front of you. 

“Why did you send Sigurd out the room, what could he possibly do?” 

“My brother Sigurd has a knack for sticking his mouth into conversations that don’t pertain to him, so the best case is to send him away.” Giving the man an annoyed look, Hattie scoffed, hating what he insinuated about Sigurd. 

“Well I don’t appreciate you speaking ill about my friend even if he is your brother…” She trailed off her sentence, hoping the man would say his name.  

“Ivar and your name is Beautiful?” 

“Hattie. Thank you for clapping for me when one one else didn’t, I can understand how difficult that might have been to just do.” 

“When I hear something beautiful or see someone beautiful...I must appreciate it, don’t you believe so?” 

“I suppose so, I never saw that many pretty things in my life.” staring down at her hands, Hattie tried thinking of anything that completely blew her mind of its beauty. All her mind could conjure up was music. 

“Well we must do something about that.” 

“And what you are gonna do Ivar? Things like getting diamonds, or traveling to foreign places don’t exist for someone like me, I’m not those women you usually date where you can take them anywhere in the world and show them off...” Stopping herself from rambling on further Hattie got up from the comfy couch, Hattie made way to the door, walking home since the bus station was probably closed this late into the night. 

“Hattie! Hattie! I’m sorry.” Catching up to her, she could hear the desperation as he shouted after her. Ivar knew he hit a nerve and couldn’t let her leave with a bad impression of him. her opinion mattered. 

“Leave me alone Ivar. Shouldn’t you be chasing them white girls from the show?” Finally turning around to face him, since he remained persistent in following her. She didn’t realize how close he was to her, his chest was so close to hers there breathing become in sync, became one.

“I'd much rather chase behind you…"Hattie stared at him shocked. She never had anyone flirt with her so openly, much less a white man. Ivar continued to stare at her with those blue eyes that seemed to beckon her to give in to this desire he knew she felt.

"Ivar...you know there can't be anything between you and me, I'm a black girl and-" 

"You have bewitched me, Body and soul. When I saw you standing there on that stage my eyes could only stay at you, only you. You’re beautiful not because of your looks, but because you’re not afraid to defy society rules and go after what you want. As you know I’ve traveled far and wide because of war and no woman holds a candle to the courage I saw you do today and I want to stand with you in that courage.” 

Hattie zoned out as she glanced at Ivar, her body shot sparks of arousal running deep into her core as she pondered hard about what he said. About her. Any doubt about him that she suspected of him vanished, She knew she shouldn’t give in to him, yet she felt she could be happy with him even if she knew the outcome would be tragic once someone found out. 

“Sweet talker…”Hattie kissed Ivar on the cheek, laughing as a smile appeared on his face. “We can see where this goes, but you must promise me to only tell me the truth...if you grow tired of me let me know I won’t hate you if you are honest.” 

“I’ll never grow tired of this, of you. My elskede (Beloved).”

[nightcoremoon]

so for the first time I saw batman: the killing joke.

...

it was okay I guess. but massively overrated. I expected some fucking masterpiece of cinema but instead it was just two unrelated short films that were more style and flash than substance.

so first off, barbara's storyline was mediocre. franz wasn't a compelling villain; just a creep, and a trust fund brat. oh wow he's a mafia kid who stole his family's fortune by hacking. if it was the falcone family I'd have cared more but it wasn't so it's just some faceless deathfodder rando. who gives a shit. the whole situation was just a vehicle to shove batman's dick into babs. which kinda fucks over bruce's character here and judging by the timeline kinda makes him a bit of a groomer, yikes. bruce and gordon have known each other since bruce was a young boy and we know that bruce is way older than babs so yeah bruce totally knew her from birth until present day, he literally utilized an active power dynamic to police her crimefighting activities, and he should have fucking known better and stopped her when she kissed him because it would (and did) compromise their professional dynamic, but hey, batdick. and at least barbara recognized that she was behaving emotionally rather than logically when it came to bruce and paris and took the high road out. that would be a serviceable standalone episode to write her on a bus in a serialization but THIS IS A MOVIE. so for a waste of an already short runtime it's like having an appetizer before your meal but instead of something like a crab cake before stuffed flounder, you get greasy onion petals that are more fried batter than onion before getting a well done cheeseburger that's just a glorified hockey puck on a sponge with a kraft single on top. the animation and vocal delivery were excellent of course, not gonna disparage that aspect, so it was well made, but the writing was just not very good. a polished turd. quantic dream must have developed it then because it feels like I watched a david cage production.

so in a 78 minute movie, five of which were the credits, we had a half hour Disney/Pixar short except those bring joy and this brought boring. also there were a lot of shots of her ass tits and underwear that were obnoxiously male-gazey and there was a token gay for the sole purpose of dangling a carrot on a stick for the queers. look kids, warner brothers and dc comics cares about the lgbts! give us money! a waste of time before the real reason why anyone came to see the movie that literally only exists to pad out the runtime to make it a feature length (even though paying a full ticket would've been a total ripoff because, again, IT WAS ONLY 78. even 9 was 81 minutes long and that had an amazing storyline so I forgave it, but 78 minutes? ugh.

also, GOTHAM RAGE??? CRINGE. SO CRINGE.

alright now for the joker segment.

*ahem*

what the fuck? that sucked! *throws tomato*

mark hamill and the joker's lines and the art and the cinematography and the choreography was all good and the plot was cohesive. I get it.

but holy shit was the writing weak as fuck.

okay so some rando breaks the J-ster out of Arkham (already unlikely but ugh whatever), he didn't turn a trick or recruit or anything, he just went to purchase a carnival. or, steal one. but wait, he DID recruit, but he went to get all of the stereotypical Circus Freak™ stereotypes. little people, fat lady, bearded lady, wolf man, strongman, diaper man (wait, what?), and the two headed woman. I guess if you don't really think about why all of them were super readily available in the outskirts between arkham and gotham [i just realized they both end with -am] then it makes enough sense. and then literally right after that HE RECRUITS SOME GUYS TO HELP HIM KIDNAP GORDON. and then strips and photographs barbara. um. ew. you can tell the writer and director were men. Alan Moore is constantly molesting women in his comics and this one trick pony should be put down already. but whatever. the plot is weak and it only gets saved by the flashback sequences.

oh.

oh no.

they're not that great.

he's a failed unfunny comedian who just wants some money to move his wife to a better house so he turns to thievery with the mob. OR YOU COULD JUST STOP GOING TO THE BAR AND BLOWING IT ALL ON BOOZE. I mean the cops knew where to find him after all so clearly he's a repeat customer (or moore is a bad plot writer who relies on convenience and shut the fuck up and don't critically analyze it). alright so he gets wrapped up in the mob to perform a heist on a playing card factory. GET IT, BECAUSE HE'S THE JOKER??? and he uses the moniker of the red hood to retain his anonymity. I expected the mobsters to be working for francisco but no the paris storyline was only cooked up screenplay for passing the runtime so why would they do something clever and interesting and make the film cohesive? that'd be really stupid to make the movie feel more like one movie and not two short films. at least when grindhouse & planet terror did it they advertised themselves as an anthology film. whatever. he falls in the vat of acid which melts the red hood to his face and I gotta say that's actually a pretty good idea to get his face white and his hair green and his lips red. I like that part. oh wait I forgot about the most important part! his wife gets shoved in the refrigerator. OH WOW THAT'S JUST SO COMPELLING AND ORIGINAL, TOTALLY NOT SOMETHING THAT ALREADY HAPPENED TO GREEN LANTERN. TWICE. although she wasn't literally shoved into a literal refrigerator like alex was. rip in frozen pieces you absolute legend of a trope namer. alright, so... so the joker is sad because his wife died. you know, the wife we saw for two minutes and knew the moment we saw her drenched in sepia she was gonna die. and she died offscreen. kyle's gf died and he was fine. gordon's wife died and he was fine. batman's parents both died and he was fine. oh boo hoo someone I love died! fuck off. I am so goddamn sick of people trying to justify their evil with "I was sad once". it's a stupid trope and it's not compelling. the only valid version is doctor doofenshmirtz' evil(er) version in the PF movie because it's hilarious that it's because of a toy train because that's the emotional depth that fridgewomen is treated with in all of these storylines. but at least batman said so. oh yeah, I almost totally forgot, batman's in this movie.

batman punches people and nonlethally takes them out. by suffocating them and letting them get stabbed and throwing them into pits of spikes and HEY WAIT A GODDAMN SECOND! okay let's just ignore that bit and hope that the little people squeezed between the gaps in the spikes and the strongman could breathe in the face mask and the two headed women had KO gas and the fat lady was fat enough that the knives only stabbed her cellulite. it wouldn't be the biggest reach one would have to make in watching this fucking disaster of a plot mess.

now I did like that it was actually batman, and by that I mean he gave a shit about the insane because he recognizes that mental illness is not a cause of dangerous or criminal behavior, just a potential exacerbating factor if it wasn't treated. yeah he brutalized mobsters and crime lords but they were mostly in self defense while gathering intel. he politely asked sal maroni and the sex workers for information and they gave it to him without violence- he manhandled maroni but only after he reached into his pocket for a cigar which could've been a gun. also batman says sex work should be decriminalized if only by not ratting them out to the cops. he was a genuinely good person in the second half of the movie. too bad it was ruined by the shitty first half that made him a borderline groomer.

joker's song was... bad. mark hamill performed his ass off but the song wasn't that good. it just tried to be willy wonka if he was a voyeuristic monster. oh yeah have the only girl character be paralyzed stripped and photographed only to give her father ManPain™. again... the fuck? joker and batman were both gross but, again. male writers. if it was a one-off I could drop a thermian argument because, alright one and done makes sense, especially 1988 standards. but it saturated and soured the entire goddamn movie because of abhorrent pacing decisions. so you're goddamn right I'm gonna bring it up twice! joker was a creep, his plan was dumb, nolan and burton and lord/miller and even ayer had better motivations. YES I AM SAYING THAT JARED LETO'S JOKER HAD BETTER WRITING THAN MARK HAMILL'S JOKER. not nearly to the level of ledger nicholson or galifanakis but hamill didn't have a lot to work with here and I maintain that his performance was amazing; honestly I like his the best out of all of them but just... not here. but I think I can cut some slack to firelord ozai and luke skywalker even if he just phoned it in here which he didn't. writing was just weak. and that's all there is to it. don't anon me and threaten to remove my bones ok?

alright so batman and joker fought and joker got the upper hand and was gonna kill him but it was a prop gun. haha. they had a heart to heart and batman tells joker that he wants to help him get better, even after joker killed robin and molested barbara and traumatized gordon and did countless other travesties, he still said he would help. but joker said no, and told a joke that was good enough to make batman laugh. and then the credits rolled.

...

what a completely pointless and empty ending. oh it's deep and meaningful and poignant? ok sure, I guess, movie, but you didn't earn that. shyamalan did the same thing a dozen times. that doesn't make him any less of a shit writer.

I can understand the concept of batman laughing at joker's joke, humanizing him.

I get it. I see what they tried to do. I respect it.

but this movie was massively overhyped and overrated and I expected it to be so much better than it was. but overall to me it was just another batman cartoon to throw on top of the pile. maybe it was influential to graphic novels. maybe it shaped batman into what he is today. it published right as tim burton's movie and I can respect its place in the pantheon of comic history. but sometimes things that are classic...

aren't that great.

citizen kane, casablanca, the maltese falcon, the treasure of the sierra madre, gone with the wind, singing in the rain, all of them are classic and legendary pieces of art. but they're just not that good, interesting, appealing, watchable, or FUN. they were good at the time- I mean come on we all know them today- but on going back you'd have to really appreciate the finer details to still love the movies today. and this belongs there, in the vault, to be appreciated from afar. influential if dated.

but god am I still disappointed nonetheless.

TL;DR

it was just okay. had some good ideas, had some really bad ideas, had some ugly stuff. overall mediocre. first half 5/10, second half 7/10, overall 6/10.

[liskantope]

[Warning: good old gratuitous rant describing really bad SJ/wokeness ahead.]

Over the past 4-5 years or so, I’ve had exactly one person on my Facebook newsfeed who is both a PoC and talks on a personal level about racial issues. Plenty of my white Facebook friends (predominantly from academia) constantly demonstrate wokeness on racial issues there, but this is the one PoC Facebook friend (an African-American, who grew up with white parents and mostly away from African-American culture to the best of my knowledge, isn’t academic, and isn’t liberal or even particularly woke on other issues) who does it.

(Well, for the sake of honesty, that’s not entirely true. For a few of those years I had another PoC friend (not black) who effusively espoused woke views on race, and who disturbed me from a psychological standpoint on an even deeper level than the person I’m focusing this post on. But a while back I had to cut her off completely for entirely personal reasons some of which involved third parties. I’m pretty sure she’s somewhere on Tumblr, considered her a friend once, and don’t care to talk about her here.)

I was Facebook friends with the subject of this post for longer than the 4-5 years I’ve mentioned; we were originally friendly acquaintances (she seemed like a super nice and fairly functional person at the time) and I haven’t seen her since well before the time around 2015 or 2016 (can’t remember exactly when) she very abruptly went down a certain ideological rabbit hole.

Anyway, since she’s really my only PoC Facebook friend talking about these things and writes really well, and I’m at least woke enough to acknowledge that it’s the job of white people like myself to listen to the experiences and points of view of PoC on race, I do try to get what I can out of her posts.

Therefore, it’s unfortunate that she

went from 0 to 100 in the direction of modern wokeness on racial issues so fast that her brains flew out of her head and her hyper-awareness of race-related dangers clearly mixes in a really unhealthy way with her anxiety (clinically diagnosed and very apparent outside of racial issues); for an example see the story I described at the end of this post

considers all of her extreme opinions on race objective knowledge that she (alone of my African-American friends) feels forced to disseminate (or maybe it’s out of her purely generous nature?) and writes about how generously she’s “educating” white people with the most subtle yet exquisite condescension I can possibly imagine or would have the writing skills to convey myself if I wanted to, while complaining how exhausting it all is, eventually reaching a point that she’s charging money for her “emotional labor”* in meeting white friends for coffee to give them her “education” and occasionally advertises this minor side-business in Facebook statuses

seems to analyze every single everyday activity in terms of what race everyone is classed in to an extent that to my thinking would logically lead to complete cultural segregation rather than increased diversity; to take a minor example she wrote a rueful diatribe against a black woman on the bus who didn’t meet her attempt to make eye contact because “we black women are supposed to stick together”

occasionally espouses the (to my ears very-pseudoscientific-sounding, and anti-black racist!) theory that African-Americans’ genes were permanently damaged by slavery however many generations ago and talks about the collective trauma she has directly suffered because of slavery -- when she briefly wrote about it in a status she got comments that thanked her for (exact words) “giving us this education”

frequently shares posts of Ally Henny, a prominent writer who comes out with mini-essays on a daily basis some of which (at least the ones I see shared) sound exactly like conservative everyone’s-an-irredeemable-sinner Catholicism with certain words replaced, as if she’s not even making the slightest effort not to sound that way -- one (from the end of last year that I’m not up for hunting down right now) even described what in essence sounds like a second coming!

is surrounded by (mostly white) worshippers and sycophants who immediately dogpile anyone who posts a disagreeing comment (to be fair, the quality of dissenting comments is not high and often comes from an ignorant or obtuse place, making the discussions on her wall even less beneficial to me) in a vicious, vindictive manner

loves to make posts deriding “mediocre white men” (e.g. paraphrased from memory “Maybe the reason so many white men refuse to acknowledge their privilege is that they just don’t want to acknowledge their own mediocrity”, and just the other day, “To have the boldness of a mediocre yt man. That is my goal in life!”) which promptly get applauded by her big group of snickering (mostly white) sycophants; I don’t even want to try to get into the layers of abusive this tactic is (and again she came across, both in-person and online, as a super sweet person prior to 2015-ish)

(and oh yeah, for some reason my white privilege blinds me from seeing, she can no longer actually spell out the phrase “white person”; following Ally Henny she has to write the modifier as “wight” or “yt” or “wh*te” or use “person of whiteness” [EDIT: just found out this, at least on Henny’s part, apparently has something to do with too much use of the phrase “white people” setting off red flags for Facebook’s “community standards” algorithms])

the other day described a conversation on black friend’s wall (which I can’t see) about a representation issue where a white guy politely disagreed; she proudly reports that she told him that “disagreeing with a black woman is not a Good Look, even if done respectfully” at which point the guy angrily left the conversation; she holds this up as an example of white fragility

and finally, tonight’s post which was the straw that broke the camel’s back for me: she complains that in her “largely unproblematic” cooking group online forum a black woman asked if any other PoC could share a recipe for banana pudding with her and several white people replied, “I’m not a PoC but...” and provided a recipe; she decries this as white people taking space away from PoC... in a NON-RACIALLY-SEGREGATED ONLINE FORUM. FOR COOKING. Because apparently the need to acknowledge race in each and every daily activity extends keeping the taint of whiteness out of BANANA PUDDING RECIPES**, and anyone who fails to respect this by giving her unsolicited white-person recipe suggestions is oppressing her.

Of course, when I say “straw that broke the camel’s back” I don’t mean that it will necessarily cause me to un-follow this person -- no, that would be much too responsible and sensible of me! -- I just mean that it caused me to stay up past my bedtime ranting on Tumblr. (And yes, at this point I probably should un-follow her. And go back to staying away from Facebook altogether.)

I guess if this post actually had a point, it would be that my social media sphere has not exactly served me well in providing PoC voices that I can actually learn from (and yes, I’m aware of the laziness and disingenuousness this comment implies, but I’ll leave it here as a tongue-in-cheek conclusion).

*Her implication that this falls under the umbrella of “emotional labor”, even taken in a broader pop activism social context, is on shaky ground in my opinion.

**This would be significantly different if we were talking about a dish coming from a nonwhite culture, e.g. jambalaya, but as far as I know you can’t get much more culturally white than banana pudding.

[sabinefm]

( bruna marquezine , cis female , peach ) welcome to aida&stefano , SABINA REUBE ! thank you for choosing to stay here. in this form it says that you go by the SHE / HER , you’re TWENTY THREE years old , you’re originally from SAN FRANCISCO , and you’ve been staying here for ONE YEAR . it also says you’re known to be + RESOURCEFUL , but also - SELFISH. that really shouldn’t be a problem though. check in at the front , hope you enjoy your stay ! (the click of heels, hot sand under your bare feet, chocolate covered strawberries, the imprints a bra leaves on your skin, red lipstick staining your fingertips )

ABOUT THE MUN.  i hope this email never finds you 

hello all, my name is pepper and i have never been on time for anything, ever in my life sdjkdskj this is especially true today, rip. no but honestly, i never thought i would actually get accepted into this beautiful rp so i stalled checking acceptances cause i’m a Scaredy Cat and that made me really late, and then i ended up taking the rest of my coworker’s shift cause she had to go and thus ended up coming home even later than i thought which has made me really really late... BUT against all the odds i’m here! and ready to party! and tell y’all about my bby sabina! but first a little bit about me, i am twenty four (ew), i can’t cook (rip), and i currently spend most of my lonely quarantine days either watching anime or scrolling through tiktok. i am canadian but every canadian that meets me thinks i’m american and i don’t know why. when i was a child i had an irrational (or yk very rational) fear of sharkboy from sharkboy and lava girl, and tbh it has never left me. i was also afraid of gill from kim possible so you can imagine my horror when that fish f*cking movie won an oscar?? when i was younger i also thot god looked like king triton from the little mermaid cause he was white and he had a beard yk. it fit in my little brain. and finally i just recently discovered girl in red and therefore feel like i finally got my bi girl card,,, feeling validated in this chillis tonight. and if that doesn’t tell you everything you need to know about me idk what will. anyways, that’s officially enough about me onto who we’re all really here for, ms sabine!

BIO.  the lengths i would go to to both get attention and avoid it... astounding  tldr ; daughter of a guy who created a dating site + app, came to a&s after leaving her husband to be at the alter after catching him cheating with her mother, wants to be a bad bitch, sometimes succeeds. 

THEN.

sabina came into the world the child of a mediocre stay at home mom and a penniless entrepreneur so it goes without saying that she had very little. her dad had a lot of passion and a lot of drive but no one would really give him a chance, and her mother kind of only married the man because she was expecting him to make it big enough for her to never have to work another day in her life so? yeah she was hella disappointed tbh 

but not sabina! she looked up to her father so much as a child. while her mom was kind of ~emotionally unavailable~ her father was too, but like at least he had a dream he believed in, yk? he wanted to help people fall in love and sabine being the big romantic she was as a child had never heard of anything so noble. her daddy was her hero. sabina honestly had big daddy’s little girl vibes until she was like 22 tkjsdkjd

one day when their family credit card got rejected one too many times sabina’s mother called it quits on yk the whole mother gig. she left sabina on a bench outside of the grocery store while she went to go home and ‘get some cash’ which even at seven sabine knew was a damn lie cause they were too broke to have any damn cash. and yeah that was the last sabina heard of her for a long ass time. it was a reverse ‘dad went to get some cigarettes’ situation but just as traumatic honestly. 

although not as much for sabine’s dad. that man literally saw his wife leaving him as a minor setback and moved on. he threw himself harder into his work, to the point where sabine barely saw him. this was the start of sabine desperately trying to compete with her father’s business for even a sliver of his attention. this was a battle she usually lost. 

sabine raised herself for a while there, since her father yk remarried his job and her mother was following the jonas brother’s cross country. she became both very independent and very lonely for a child, which was an odd combination that both haunted sabine for pretty much the rest of her life after that point and lead her to make most of her worst decisions. but that’s a story for another time, because right when all hope was lost sabine’s father won the lottery. literally. 

all at once they were five million dollars richer. they went from nothing to everything real quick. and this marked a change in the reube’s lives in a way sabine couldn’t have even imagine at the time. 

sabine’s father hector used the money to fund his business and that shit blew up! he created a site by the name of loveisblind that was in the ring with the likes of match.com and christianmingle yk, one of those dating sites. everyone on loveisblind is set up on blind dates based on the information they fill out on their profile and are only allowed to see each other when they reach a certain point of emotional intimacy. the site had wild success rates, and got very popular, blah, blah, the point was the reubes? suddenly rich af!

and you think that would give hector more time to spend with his daughter right? no. it gave hector the money to hire nannies for his daughter. 

yes, somehow despite hector no longer having to work himself to the bone, sabine saw him even less. tragic really. she really became that lonely rich girl trope real quick, and this is what unfortunately got sabine into the habit of seeking the attention she wasn’t getting from her father in other men and women, which she is not proud of. 

that unfortunately didn’t fill the void that sabine had but you know what did? making the loveisblind app so her daddy would love her. basically around the time that tinder started gaining traction and getting popular, people stopped going on the loveisblind site and started instead turning to apps. her father was trying and failing to get into that market, and sabina, being yk, actually a lot more intelligent than her father ever gave her credit for, created the app for his site and pitched it to him over his lunch one day. it was honestly one of the first times sabina can remember her father really paying attention to her in the longest time. it was also the proudest she’s ever seen him. 

the app was a big success! a whole new generation was using it and finding love, including one ms sabine reube. in the early days of the app launch sabine met her prince charming, christopher ‘kit’ johannson. he swept her right off her feet, and she fell HARD, and when they debuted their relationship it wasn’t long until they kind of became the face of the app?? like sabine’s father was the creator after all, the fact that his daughter found love on the app too was big news for a while. people followed their relationship and strived for something like that for themselves. sabine didn’t know it at the time but they were basically a walking advertisement, and her father was LIVING for that.

fast forward a bit and your girl went to yale for computer engineering and business (did her daddy’s status and money ease the way? maybe man, nepotism am i right) whilst kit went to harvard, they were long distance for a bit before they graduated and kit very publicly proposed (the whole thing was well recorded too, gotta get that gram), and then both sab and kit moved in together and both started working for their families respective companies. it was around then that sabine started to understand just how much and how often kit was cheating on her. it was a real wakeup call. 

sabine ended up breaking down to her father about her suspicions, and he basically ended up telling her to suck it up and think of the business. the fact was sabine and kit, the face of their new generation and one of the first successful couples from the app getting married and living happily ever after was amazing for the company. and the two of them calling the whole thing off just because of a little infidelity just wasn’t going to cut it. 

now once again, this is where sabine’s deep desire to be loved and accepted really bites her in the ass. this was one of the first times sabine’s father had ever really asked her for anything so... she did it. or at least she did her best to do it. she lasted until the wedding day around the time where she caught kit and her own mother (who she only invited out of a deep rooted need to actually know the woman who gave birth to her again) going at it in the coat closet of their wedding venue. yeah, at that point sabine pretty much snapped, blacked out, smashed a whole wedding cake over kit’s head, and took their honeymoon to venice on her own. she arrived at Aida&Stefano with running mascara in a ruined wedding dress trying to ask about a honeymoon suite. it was a whole mess, but you know what so is sab so at least she was on brand. 

NOW.

after sabina arrived she spent about a week mourning her failed almost-marriage and yk, destroyed family before she decided to fuck it all and reinvent herself. she desperately wanted to become someone new, someone unrecognizable from who she was before, even if it was only on the inside. so she cut her hair (the first step to every transformation) hardened everything soft about herself and made the irrevocable decision to become a bad bitch. she (mostly) succeeded. kind of. 

sabine basically curb stomped out the soft, hopeless romantic people pleaser in her and decided to become someone more unsympathetic. someone who puts her own needs first instead of burning herself up to keep others warm (cause what good has that ever done her before?). someone who people would be afraid to hurt but who wouldn’t even feel pain anyways. and to sum it up that person is a heartless bitch. or at least she tries to be.

i’m gonna stop here because this is already a lot longer than i wanted it to be and i haven’t even got to the other sections yet rip but you get the point i feel

PERSONALITY.  *feels nothing* mmm, don’t like that *feels something but like too much* mmm not a fan of that either 

most of this is tbd because i’m still developing her but

VAIN. the kind of girl who will file her nails or check herself out in the mirror while you’re talking to her. will reapply her lipstick in the rearview mirror of her car while she’s driving. checks herself out in any reflective surface, i mean i would too if i looked like bruna but Still 

KIND. even though sab tries to be a hard ass she’s probably the most loyal, generous, kind person you would ever meet deep down. like she puts on this persona of being heartless, but if anyone needs her she will be there for them. kind of hates that she’s such a softie sometimes but she can’t help it. 

EMOTIONALLY UNAVAILABLE. doesn’t want to be hurt again and will do pretty much anything to avoid that. tries to keep people at arms length especially romantically. loves making friends though, and will indeed spoil them. 

HEADCANNONS.  who wants to hire me as their maid i’m not gonna clean im just gonna wear a cute maid outfit dust like 6 things and bend down a lot

has the vibes of that drunk rich aunt that’s always smoking like sexily as she looks far into the distance and wears like a super luxurious coat. will gossip with you. will buy you things your mom won’t. will cuss out your toxic father at the dinner table. that’s her energy.

unfortunately actually does smoke. i hate 

okay fun fact, the only reason sabine went to university for computer programming and business was because she felt her father wanted her to. she honestly has no real passion for the subject and just wanted to use her talent to make her father as proud of her as he was on the day she debuted that app to him. but now that making daddy proud isn’t like the only thing occupying her entire brain sabine like is like ??? wait what do i actually want to do with my life ??? and it took her a while to figure it out but after a while she fell back on one of her passions, art. she’s actually making a graphic novel aimed towards young adults about a modern day hades and persephone vibe, kind of about a girl who falls in love with the grim reaper and the lengths she goes to to chase after her (yes it is a Lady Reaper) into the depths of hell,,, it’s wild. she’s very proud of it but also kind of shy about it tbh. her go to critic is georgio, because she knows that little shit will be honest and yk what she respects that. 

but when it comes to making actual money your girl turns to cam work most of the time, because well. at the very least it’s quick, easy, and semi discreet. and sometimes she gets something out of it too. she figures it’s a win win, and she’s been doing it for about a year now, mostly because she absolutely refuses to use any of her father’s money. 

is allergic to cucumber. 

has a different 'relationship’ like every week or so, along with a few one night stands peppered in. unfortunately still attracted to people who are bad for her (kit for example was an asshole and a cheater and DEFINITELY conservative like she messed up on that one), but is also very afraid of falling in love again and letting herself get hurt, so she normally doesn’t let things last too long before she starts self sabotaging. 

if you ever catch sabine with like... her nails growing out or her nail polish chipped, something is wrong. like something is deeply wrong. sabine will have her nails done in the middle of the apocalypse, the only reason they would be less than perfect is if she is having a breakdown. always has colour on her nails, and usually it’s a shade of red, purple, or black. 

always has wild ass stories to tell about her tinder dates or one night stands and will tell them without shame for your entertainment. is a great storyteller honestly, a talent she got from her mother but she doesn’t want to admit that. 

fun fact, her mother mariah was PISSED when hector got rich AFTER she left him and tried for years to sue him or something but no dice. she was so angry and vengeful over the whole thing that she took the opportunity of being invited to her daughters wedding to get back at her husband where it hurt, his business. thus sleeping with kit. didn’t really think about how her daughter might feel about the whole thing because she was yk blinded by rage, but that’s just how mariah is so i mean,,, rip sabina. 

shops when she’s sad, or happy, or angry, or confused sdkjdsj will use any excuse to shop, and at this point she has more clothes than she knows what to do with. her style can be kind of out there at times, but she will let you borrow things though. 

she has a cat named momo. yes that is inspired by her being the peach skeleton. also has a parrot named poe i think. i also have the urge to give her a snake but... i will resist. so sabine wants a snake for sure 

her favourite colours are black and red

she is a horrible terrible driver. don’t drive with sabine unless you’re an adrenaline junkie or like want to die tbh 

her dad 100% set up the relationship between kit and sabine as a pr stunt, but sabine doesn’t know that yet and when she finds out her father used her like that ooh boy things are gonna get wildt. as it is now sabine just thinks she disappointed him and it’s kind of eating her alive. half the reason she’s staying here is because she doesn’t want to face him or yk her old life anymore. her father is so caught up in the shame she caused him that he hasn’t even tried to call her after the whole thing and the one time sabine got hella drunk and called him all he did was tell her what a disappointment she was and ask when she was coming back to work so we love ~parenting~

WANTED CONNECTIONS. girls will “🥺🥺🥺🥺” their way out of everything

close friends please and thanks, best friends also please, uh, can i get some awkward one night stands that avoid each other at all cost, can i get a neighbour who’s ear sabine is always talking off in the hallway between their rooms even tho they just want to go home but can’t because sabine is Oversharing, maybe a flirtationship, but also i would love an enemy (it could be for a ridiculous reason or a completely valid reason but either way please give it to me), someone she goes out dancing/partying with at piccolo, a sibling like relationship, a confidante, someone who she trusts to read her comic and maybe even do some linework, and absolutely anything else okay my brain is fried rn but i want it all! please like this and i will slip and slide into your dms <3

[roidesrosette]

Blood donation? Blood donation.

God bless @narekashi​ for coming up with this genius name and enabling me to do this, i dont blame you thou i have a lot of fun

Yes, it’s me with another of my (mayhaps) contentless OC, please enjoy while it last– Jkjk, I’ll try to throw more content of her on here instead of Discord next time :’)

BLOOD DONATION:  Salvie/Salva/Sal, short for Salvatore

Age: ??? Gender: Salvie doesn’t like to define herself as anything  Birthday: 6/24  Height: 160cm  Status: Got revived as a vampire 

PHYSICAL  Appearance: Black hair usually tied in a ponytail, red eyes, sharp teeth, a constant “you dare challenge your god?” mocking expression (but doesn’t have the intention) 

Accessories: Poker case set, saber and gun

SOCIAL  Affiliation: On her own Occupation: Salvie runs a casino and is involved in a mafia Relationships:

Count: First met him when she was “adopted” by the bunch of vampires. He was offering to give them residence, but they all turned him down. Met him again when she was touring the world alone and made him an acquaintance, they became really good friends after that.

Leonardo: Met him when she was touring in Italy with Count. He kept treating her like a small child (still do), and they would drag each other like how he and Count would. He likes messing up her hair, she likes stepping on him when he’s asleep. Also a pair of good friends.

Arthur: Arthur was interested in Salvie and find her dominating personality challenging, but he knew well enough not to lay a finger on her. You just don’t simply go against someone who could lop off your head and had associations with the mafia. On the other hand thou, they were drinking buddies, and sometimes Salvie would pick up girls with him. They gamble a lot together too.

Dazai: They have an odd relationship. It might be because they’re somehow similar in a way, they know what line not to cross. They just have this weird bond that no one can put a finger to determine what it is.

Isaac: They don’t really talk much, she only knows he really likes apple from what she heard from Dazai, but that’s probably a lie…

Theodorous: God how Salvie loves to tease and sass him. Much like Leo, they would banter every time they met, but Theo always ends up leaving, flustered. He was too young compared to her, maybe a couple more years and his bantering skills might improve. They weren’t really on good terms, especially with how Salvie was involved with Shakespeare and the goddamn mafia, plus how close she and Vincent is.

Vincent: Pure, innocent baby boy. “I’ve only met Vincent for 15 seconds and if anyone hurts him I’ll kill everyone in this room and then myself.” Absolutely adores him and prefers him over Theo. Salvie admires how innocent he was, and that nature of him would always make her worry about him. She will also give him everything he wants or needs, just to see him smile.

Sebastian: When Count first brought him to the world, she was intrigued by the human who managed to charm him. So she would frequently visit just to see how Sebas works… Until he starts digging her information. She knew his passion well and understood that, but she would prefer if Sebas exclude her from his mysterious notebook.  

Napoleon: Salvie was very interested in him, being a demi-vampire, but she does not question him about it. If he isn’t willing to say, then she had no reason to pry. Along with Jeanne, the three of them practiced sword fights from time to time. Salvie would always be fascinated by both of their skills. You could say that their relationship is quite well.

Mozart: Salvie does not talk much with Mozart, but lowkey likes his performance. She would always attend a ball or an activity if Mozart is the one playing the piano. Salvie also finds his prickly attitude fun to tease, but would rather see Arthur tease him. They would only exchange words when it comes to music and that’s it.

Jeanne: Aside from sparring with him, Salvie also supplies weapons to him. She doesn’t question why, as that was the nature of her business. She couldn’t refuse too, since business is business, and he was a resident of Count’s, which she promised the dad before that she would sponsor his residents too, because he was a friend of hers.

Shakespeare: Basically (kinda) love at first sight. Both of them were born with chaos in them, and so they attract each other. She did not meet him when he became the first resident of Count, but she did hear about it. She met him in a ball. It’s a long ass story how they get together but yeah, these two dumbasses are doing fine and dandy as a couple, have their banters and bickers sometimes but all is well. Unless….?

Paired with: William Shakespeare (Maybe…?)  

PERSONALITY 

Likes: Gambling, attending balls (especially masquerade balls), hunting, going off adventures with her beloved horse, sword fight, overly sweet stuff  

Dislikes: Following a schedule/orders, getting treated like a feeble maiden/young child, proper meal, proper sleep  

Strength: She’s superb at gambling and swinging her sword, mediocre at drinking, she aced in “not giving a shit” 

Weakness: Hides her feelings a lot, tends to distance herself from people who know her to a certain degree, can’t sleep in peace ever

Personality: Let’s just start with: Salvie is chaotic. Very chaotic. Even the name “Salvatore” already tells you she spells trouble. She doesn’t like being bound by rules, schedules or anyone’s orders, she’s a free soul who decides every step. However, she isn’t reckless, each action she took is calculated and rationally think through, as she does not wish to take a step she regrets. That careful and meticulous approach made her seem wise–despite how young she looks–mature even. Well, but sometimes Salvie could be bratty too, since ��her adorable looks is the biggest fraud” (quoted from Leo). She also has a bold personality, and that results in her sassing the great men fearlessly, yet that doesn’t mean she doesn’t respect them, in fact, it’s the opposite. She looked up to them greatly, as they were awesome enough to get their name engraved in history.  

Her biggest charm is definitely her carefree attitude. She’s just, y’know, damn chill. Salvie doesn’t have a care towards anything, therefore her pronouns and attire choices. Although her easy-going characteristics is an appeal, it’s sometimes a flaw as well. It made it difficult to get along with her as the specifics about her is unclear. Since she was so chill with everything, it’s certainly hard to pin down what are her favourites and stuff. Contradictorily, that light-hearted manner doesn’t apply to people. She unintentionally looks after people, even if she doesn’t want to care, she would still unknowingly do something for them, like leaving them a cup of tea on the table every morning. 

On the other hand though, kinda like Dazai, Salvie’s breezy and free demeanor makes it hard to grasp her true character, not mentioning the fact that she tends to sweep everything under the rug. She has a way with words that always, somehow, avoid the topic about herself, and that made her mysterious in a way. She was very quiet of her thoughts, especially things on her mind, rarely talking about her problems. She would tend to fend off questions about that with a gentle reassuring smile and a wispy attitude, as she disliked someone poking into her problems (and of course because she didn’t want to seem weak). 

HISTORY 

Backstory: Salvie was not recorded at any point in history, yet she was revived. She did not know why and did not question so. When she was first revived, she did not remember anything except her name. Dozens of questions were in her mind, yet there was no one to answer her. For what feels like an eternity, she wandered on the streets aimlessly until she met her kind. They were strong, independent, and raised her as if she was a newborn. Well, she was, kinda. The days gradually passed, and she too, came to understand that she had been reborn into a person–no, an immortal with unrestrained freedom, with unlimited time (not really, but you get the idea). As soon as she came to that conclusion, she bid goodbye to her friends, (guardians maybe?) and took a flight to achieve her dreams–to live how she wanted in her previous life. 

Family: Salvie doesn’t remember (or rather, it was insignificant to her) her family in her previous life. She only recognized the group of vampires that took her in as her guardians. 

Other history: How Salvie was involved in the mafia is… Well, chaotic. She was supposed to be on the tour with Count to Italy, to visit his long lost friend Leonardo, but along the way she somehow stumbled into an illegal gambling den, challenged the don (with very extreme conditions), defeated the don and accidentally become the new don of the mafia. After going through all the messy procedures, the news about a new mafia boss named  “Lord Salvatore” quickly spread through Italy. His nature was depicted as cruel and ruthless as he gets anything he wants, and no one stands in his way. Yet what’s weird was that the “Salvatore Family” was rumored to be civilized and noble, as they were ordered that no blood should be drawn unless it was required to. You can imagine the horror on Leo and Count’s face when they heard about this, and the compliments from her guardians. 

TRIVIA

Special abilities: None. (Her face as an instrument of deception)  Pet(s): A white horse named Vlad. Hobby: When she isn’t gambling or drinking, she will be out doing mafia business or just wandering somewhere else  Secret(s): Had a past lover who she later recalled and somehow disliked that shares the same name with her horse (which she then became devastated knowing that she named her horse after her past lover)  Habits: When she’s stressed or troubled, she will smoke from a pipe 

[raptorginger]

How Quietly We Endure All that Falls Upon Us

CHAPTER 1-She and Him

The snow swirled down from the night sky in a languid flurry, the flakes fat soft clumps of white that clung to the black wool coat and unruly dark hair of the sullen man walking down the sidewalk.  His head was down against the gentle onslaught, the snow landing in his hair only to melt moments after, the soft locks soon heavy with the weight of water.  His hands were shoved deep into his pockets, clearly balled into fists. He walked past joyful groups and couples deep in love, all unseeing and oblivious.  The warm store windows with their brightly and attractively lit Christmas displays did nothing to draw his gaze, fixed as it was on a spot a few feet ahead of his large booted feet.  Bells and music, laughter and happy conversations poured from every corner, but he heard nothing.

He hadn’t wanted to come.  He really hadn’t, but the doctor had insisted that if ever there was a time to visit, this was it.  She might not remember him on another.  After the long journey here, which felt like a short one, and the brief trip up the steps of the convalescent home, which felt like the longest journey in his life, he wasn’t sure she remembered on this one.  Doctor Penndrel had recommended that he visit during tea every morning for the duration of his stay.  It might help her remember who he was if he came during a routine part of her day.  He wasn’t sure he could walk up those portentous steps again.  A nurse, Miss Connix, had made a suggestion as she showed him out of the doily laden Victorian mansion.

“Bring something that reminds Mrs. Organa of an old hobby.  Something she used to enjoy doing,” she had murmured sympathetically as he left.

He had given her a wry brittle smile of gratitude, well practiced and almost a reflex at this point, and murmured his thanks.  He’d turned the large brass knob, the glass rattling in the old wooden door frame and the Damask curtain ruffling in the draft as he stepped onto the snow and dead leaf dusted front porch and down those steps.  The old dried wood creaked beneath his feet, his steps now heavier and burdened with knowing.  

As he shuffled down the icy salt caked sidewalk, he tried to remember.  What had his mother enjoyed doing?  The young nurse had spoken as if he’d actually seen his mother in the last who knew how many years and knew something as familiar, as personal, as that.  A group of girls dressed in too short dresses and too long coats stumbled into him as he stomped, their tittering laughs grating and irritating to his ears.  They swished their long bottle blonde hair flirtatiously in his direction, perfect smiles spreading across prettily made up faces, but he grumbled an apology and went on his way as they tried to entice him into following him into a nearby bistro.

“Stuck up bastard,” he heard one mumble as they all flipped their coconut scented locks back over their shoulders and sauntered away to make merry in some overpriced gastropub that served pretentious food and mediocre Moscow Mules, the drink du jour.  

He found his mood growing even more dour as he walked.  He looked up, finally taking stock of his surroundings.  After leaving the elegant abode that served as a high end rest home, he had walked with no goal, no intent and letting the sidewalk guide his steps, hopefully in the direction he’d parked his rental car.  He hadn’t even gotten a room at a hotel yet.  He had walked through the little town’s “Main Street” district and had entered what the downtown authority had dubbed “The Warehouse District.”  Looking around, it seemed to be comprised of more boutique shops and micro breweries.  Rather than selling the typical tourist junk and clothes, the stores here seemed higher end, more modern, with an air of aloofness that contrasted sharply with the easy going atmosphere of the watering holes with names like The Workshop (insignia a hammer and sickle) and Right Brain (a brightly colored facade with a board advertising beers with names like Chubby Squirrel and Dead Kettle).  Loud eclectic music pounded through the cement walls along with raucous whoops and hollers, and most of the shops were closed at this hour of the night.  He recalled having parked in a municipal lot around here somewhere, but everything looked different yet the same in the dark.

The man in black stopped on the well paved sidewalk and was getting his bearings when a group of men and women drunk on high octane IPAs and Bourbon Stouts came stumbling out of one the cement buildings, tumbling into him and knocking him prone into the wet ice glazed gutter.  

“Fuck!” the man swore, speaking aloud for the first time in hours.  Pain shot through his tailbone and elbow, and he struggled to his feet only to find himself back on the ground, his hands and feet unable to find purchase on the ice.  The group stumbled off to their next destination, oblivious to the injury they had caused the stranger.

He considered just remaining on the ground, not wanting to further his humiliation.  The man assumed this wasn’t the first time someone had passed out in this particular gutter. His head did hurt. Then again, he’d freeze to death on a night like this.  He heaved a sigh and tried to push himself upright again.  He groaned as a sharp pain filled his head, swirling and bright and harsh behind his eyes.

“Excuse me?” said a gentle voice beside him.

The man looked up to see a slight brunette standing beside him, a heavy winter coat clutched around her shoulders.  Her hazel eyes were bright with concern, and her freckles danced even in the poor artificial light of the street lamps.  Then again, it could be the little pinpricks of light that now danced before the man’s eyes as he tried to rub the pain out of them with his thumb and forefinger making him see things.

“Excuse me?” the brunette said again, this time crouching beside him.  Out of arm's reach, he noticed. He wasn’t surprised.  Most people liked to keep him at arm’s length.  “Do you need some help?”

She spoke slowly, her voice melodious and accented.  Her gaze was assessing, concerned.  He wondered if she thought he was a bar patron, drunk off his ass.

“I...I fell,” he muttered as he tried to right himself again.  He managed to get up into a sitting position, but his head continued to swim in pain.  He groaned lowly and pinched the bridge of his nose, trying to focus on breathing in and out.

The young woman blinked a few times and looked at him askance, as if she didn’t quite believe him.  “I saw what happened,” she chided gently.  “That gaggle just bowled you right over.”

He looked over, right into her eyes, and was overcome by her nearness.  Warmth radiated from her, even as she kept a respectable distance between them.  Her smile was easy, gentle.  He blinked in surprise as the pain began to ebb somewhat.  

“You’ve got a bit of a cut on your temple, and I’m worried you may have a concussion,” she murmured.  “I have a first aid kit in my apartment.  May I?” she asked as she held her hands out cautiously near his elbow and forearm.

The man stared at her outstretched hands.  People touched him all the time, impartial and cold. Handshakes, back slaps, accidental bumps. Compelled by a tiny voice in the back of his mind, the man obeyed and offered up his arm.  The young woman was much stronger than she appeared and hauled him easily to his feet.  She slipped one arm around his back to grip the waist of his coat as the other remained firmly at his elbow and steered him swiftly and carefully across the street.  The man was silent, dumbstruck by the feeling of her hands on him over his coat and layers.  He couldn’t remember the last time he’d been touched with actual care or concern.  He didn’t care for touching generally, not usually trusting of the person attached to it.

She stopped outside a nondescript looking apartment door that stood just to the side of one of the more attractive shops.  Tactile, it was called, according to the letters stamped out of the forged iron sign above the shop door. Tiny spotlights illuminated a lovely display.  A woven basket of unspun, undyed wool sat beside an antique spinning wheel.  A honeycomb shaped shelf contraption held a variety of soft looking beautifully colored yarn, labels dangling from delicate string.  A porcelain tea set and canisters of local tea sat on a small end table between the shelf and spinning wheel. The young woman opened the door and led the man slowly up the wooden stairs, her eyes watching him carefully for any sign of distress, or possibly for ill intent.  He wouldn’t blame her, a stranger to her that he was.  She was quite a bit shorter and much more lithe than he was, but he was fairly certain she could beat him in a fight. 

He stumbled a bit at the top as they reached the landing where it turned unexpectedly.  The woman gripped him more firmly as she fumbled with another key.  

“Careful,” she chastised in her lovely voice, the sweet quality shifting easily to stern.  The man could hear a soft scratching and snuffling behind the old wood.  She helped him to lean against the wide door frame, situating him out of the way as she unlocked two or three locks and turned the old knob.  “Wait here while I restrain the dog,” she commanded kindly.

A large black blob struggled to get out of the door and closer to him, low barks and loud chuffing accompanying the sound of clipped claws on wood, but the woman grabbed the thick collar and hauled the beast away.  He heard the snap of a door along with a ‘shush’ and a moment later the woman returned and helped him inside.

Her apartment was small, the air stuffy but in that warm winter way that meant it was heated by an ancient radiator.  The light was dim, the only illumination coming from a light over the stove in the kitchen and a floor lamp beside a small loveseat.  An old faded area rug was well trod, the wood beneath it just as dark as that in the stairway.  Perched beside a large bay window overlooking the street was an antique velvet armchair, the upholstery long faded and the nap worn almost through.  An old steamer trunk served as a coffee table, the brown leather surprisingly well maintained.  

The woman helped him to a high backed bar chair, which, thankfully, did not swivel.  The man gripped the arms tightly as he hoisted himself up, leaning over the counter on his elbow.  The woman poured him a glass of water from a filter pitcher on the counter and flicked on the tiny lights over the bar.  The man was glad they were purposefully dim.  She disappeared down a short dark hallway, and he could hear the sound of rummaging.  She returned quickly with a few hand towels and what looked like an entire ER nurse’s cart worth of supplies packed neatly into an old Caboodle.  She set everything on the bar by his elbow and hopped up into another chair facing him.  She pulled a pen light from somewhere in the depths of the case and began assessing him with focused eyes.  

The man began to fidget, not having been under such intense scrutiny, since, well, he couldn’t even remember.  He flinched when she pressed her fingertips to the skin around the cut on his temple, gently probing with one hand while the other held the light.  So warm.  Soft. Gentle.

“I’m sorry.  Did that hurt?” she murmured, looking into his eyes through her lashes.

The man’s throat was dry.  He coughed to clear it.  “N-no.  Not at all,” he croaked.

“Mmm good.  This shouldn’t need stitches.”  She began pawing through the case again, pulling out a few packets of antiseptic wipes and a couple of tiny butterfly bandages. 

“This might sting a little,” she warned kindly as she daubed at the cut gingerly.  The man winced at the burn of the alcohol, but it was over as soon as it began.  A flash of tongue appeared between the woman’s lips as she bit down, focused on getting the placement of the bandages right.  Suddenly, that’s all the man could see.

Too soon, she leaned back in her chair and gathered up the wrappers and dirty wipes.  “I’m Rey, by the way.  Rey Johnson.  I want you to focus on the light for me please.”

She shined the light right in each of his eyes, gauging how his pupils dilated.  She pulled it back, watching his gaze carefully.  “Now follow, please.”  The light went right and then left, up then down.  Then suddenly it was close.  The man recoiled instinctively, but he kept his gaze on the light.

“Very good.”  She put the light away, and the man had to blink back the purple spots.  “Do you have a wallet?”

“What?”  

“A wallet.  I want to quiz you.  Then we’re done, I promise.”

The man didn’t want to be done, but he handed over his wallet anyway.  She flipped the soft black leather open to look at his ID, her fingers trailing along the fine stitched edge.  He was suddenly very jealous of his wallet.

“Name?” she queried.

“Benjamin C. Solo,” he replied.  He watched the ripple of a swallow chase down her throat as a flush of pink danced along her collarbone.

“Date of birth?”  Her voice was a touch shakier, he couldn’t help but notice.

“May 4, 1985.”

She closed his wallet and handed it back to him.  “I think you’re all good.”

Ben tucked his wallet back into the pocket of his jeans.  “Thanks.  Are you a nurse or something?”

A strange look crossed Rey’s features.  A grimace she was trying to hide, but Ben caught it.  

“I was,” she whispered as she rubbed her arm, her gaze somewhere far away.  “I own the shop downstairs now.  I like it much better,” she hastened to add, trying to get her voice back to a happier tone.  “Not that I didn’t like being a nurse!  It’s just, something happened, and I couldn’t do it anymore.  Sorry, I’m babbling.”  She petered off, probably worried she’d put him off with her hurried explanation.  Ben found himself wanting to hear the whole story, about this and anything else she wanted to tell him.

“No, that’s okay.  Umm, shit happens, you know.  I get it.  I do.  I did one thing, I didn’t like it, and now I do something else too.”

“What do you do?”

“I’m an environmental lawyer now.”

Rey leaned forward, her arms draped over her knees, her eyes brighter.  “Really?  What’s that like?”

Ben shrugged.  “Rewarding.  Feels better than what I used to do.”

“And what was that?”

“Corporate law.”

Rey scrunched up her face in mock disgust, and Ben almost had to laugh.  Five minutes with this woman and he found himself feeling warmer and more at ease than he felt in forever.  He didn’t want to leave.  He fiddled with his water glass, wondering if it would be rude to take off his coat.  And his shoes.  And if he could crash on her tiny couch.

“Would you like some tea?” Rey half-asked, half-shouted as she jumped out of her chair.

Ben jumped up too, startled.  “Yes!”  He cleared his throat, trying to temper his excitement.  “I mean, yeah, that sounds great.  Thanks, Rey.”

Rey was nodding nervously as she poured water in the kettle and set it to heat.

[allwillbeone]

Me, a comic reader vs ABC’s “Marvel’s Inhumans” show ep 1 & 2, a live blogging at Discord(revised version)

Me, watching the cursed Inhumans show in few minutes and Triton got shot while Black Bolt and Medusa are having sexy time: I can't, I can't keep up with the show anymore

This is bad, I can tell the show is bad in these few minutes No I'll finish it in spite

[Under the cut because it’s a long post with a bunch of nonsense, tldr: The X-Men didn’t suffer for this]

And Medusa ignored the important call because they are having sex I can understand why the audience rooted for Maximus at first

Now for 4 minutes? The sexy time is ended but I got really cheap CGI cityscape The show is worse than I expected

The city of Attilan is uglier than any brutalist apartment And the lunascape scene looks like a Play Station 2 game, not even 3, PS2 Maximus' first appearance looks so... basic, if I didn't know he's Max I thought him one of the citizens

I really feel sorry for those actors, they are doing their job amazingly but the writing and costumes and setting and CGI and props are bad, so bad, stupidly bad

The X-Men and the Royal family didn't suffer for this

8 minutes and here we go, eugenics shit against one of their family members? And were you expecting I'm going to root for the royal family, writers?? It's really bad... I'm watching the show only 10 minutes and it already makes me hate the show

I mean, it was 2017? and this shit is worse than in 60s comics

Yeah they can't keep romani people and asian people's ethnicity but keep slavery and eugenics shits I even don't understand why MCU so much loves those facial hairs on non facial hair characters

Gorgon: let's destroy the moon rover Karnak: Wow, how mature Humans: Oh no it looks like a hoof that crushed our rover Medusa and Max: shit... BB: Okay do nothing

Umm... is this why Max thought he has to be in charge...?

Medusa, you ignored a really important call and stopped your husband to answer the call because you gave your priority to sexy time, and now you act like you are a dignified queen with authority This show makes my eyes roll hard

Suddenly Karnak starts bubbling on some nihilistic nonsense in the middle of the terrigenesis ceremony and Gorgon being a eugenicist shit against a family member again. And they'll wonder why one of them revolt against them? I also wonder why...

The scene of Lockjaw's first appearance is something off...  he moves like a bad animatronics Ummm, why Crystal has to cover her hand with a cloth if they just grab terrigen crystal with the bare hand from a box?

I'm not sure I can finish the show... this is worse than what I heard...

Well, no one sans Max willing to engage the boy that seems gets nothing from terrigenesis, even the boy suddenly collapsing and having a seizure on the floor... wow, so cold. While Crystal is fawning over that cheep CGI butterfly wing girl, you are so basic, Crys

They've lost my respect one by one Only Triton and Max keep me have some respect as characters but I'm sure the writing will also screw them Poor Triton

And Triton's makeup is also... bad

The actor of Maximus really had the charisma and the charm in his acting, alas the plot and the writing are so bad

Oh Max starts his "revolution" as a pep talk to lower caste people, and he's smol, smoler than the boy, so smol, they got  the actor that could represent him perfectly but Marvel was stupid so they gave him that boring superhero movie black leather and ugly facial hairs instead of iconic Jack Kirby armors or evil mad scientist lab coat

In dinner or lunch or idk, Karnak is being rude and gross out of nowhere to a female servant, and I can't understand what did the showrunner want to describe by the scene

He and Gorgon are dicks to people without any reason

Yeah, and only asian man being a dick to a white lady out of nowhere.... it seems really... a red flag And only black man being an extremely eugenics scum to his family member is... also... a big red flag

Now Max reveals Triton's death and apparently the mission was secret to even Karnak so BB is getting accused at the dinner table. And BB's excuse is "Oh no you never know he really dead" lmao And he thought it's good to invite nuhumans to the moon because "They are family" while treating your moon people with useless/no power as slaves because of the limitation of the resource? Oh yeah, you go Max, you notice the obvious problem

And BB's answer is "Not now, trust me" Oh yeah, maybe going to Earth is "not now", but "getting nuhumans from earth because they are our family uwu" is also not now imo

It's still over 20 minutes and I can't believe I can find those stupidness from the show easily

I need to eat mushrooms to survive this

Maximus: -Calling out his big bro's BS and storming out of the dining- Karnak: Maximus is dangerous, but I'm loyal to you, trust me

Karnak, it's not a good way to gain people's trust

BB takes a big gun out of Gorgon's hand. Gorgon... a gun... Crystal's dress looks like nipples are showing throw the fabric It's just a fold on the fabric apparently but uh...

Medusa: You can't trust Maximus, we can discuss that BB: -signing, apparently he doesn't want to discuss this-

Oh at least he loves his lil bro to some degree

Everything in the show looks fake af, but yes Medusa's hair is the worst

Oh no I didn't notice the scene is switching to the flashback scene because the switching sequence is bad, and it means oh no that scene

[Flashback scene: BB and Medusa first meeting] aaaaaaaaaa Um, not yet... just a short "first contact" scene...

I'm afraid Max starts wooing Medusa out of nowhere, um...

To be honest it doesn't make any sense in the narrative of the show so far but anything didn't make sense in the show so I can let it go

It's kinda ironic that Max was the one who got precognition power in comics, while he saw the chance in the boy with precog power in the show

Umm, this Iso look-like character is... Auran...?

And Auran got killed by Max(with BB's power) in comics, wow ironic

Attilan in comics: Sci-fi city with a bunch of weird spires and alien buildings Attilan in the show: Are these... maximum-security prisons???

The scene is supposed to be in the rooftop garden on the palace, but it looks like a patio in a prison.

An old guy from the genetic council: It's treason, Auran arrest him, I'm really sorry things become like this Auran: -beat the old man til death-

idk why but it feels kinda comedic...

Then the scene is Oahu island because maybe Triton is there? Wow, nice vacation Triton

While Karnak is playing with a moon rover and guarding people are like "Hey, king Maximus' order, bitch!" and Karnak is like "king Maximus? ... oh shit" lmao

Wow, Max, you are the one who made those humans shoot Triton? And now you are trying to kill Gorgon? ... well, this Gorgon has been an extremely eugenicist scum to you and never stop being a dick, I can't blame you about Gorgon in the narrative, go ahead

And those henchmen are really incompetent, where are the suspense and drama

Karnak: Maximus betrayed us and the royal guards with him Gorgon: wtf I'm the head of the royal guards Wow Gorgon, apparently you have no popularity with them...

Now the royal guards are trying to get Medusa and a fight scene begin... the CGI on her hair is soooo hideous, it's almost comedic And playing "Paint It Black"? Seriously???

Finally someone in the royal guard uses their power to take down the target instead of attacking people like humans that they are disregarding

Max, holding a hair clipper: I have no choice Medusa: If you do this I never forgive you Max: (Surprised Pikachu face meme)

TBH Medusa's line here sounds really... stupid... he's committing a coup against your husband, do you think he would mind of your feelings about your hair??? But apparently, he would mind because idk whatever reason And why they just leave her, at least confine her or do something, you are committing a coup!

Oh no THAT SCENE!!! [Flashback scene: BB killed their parents with "WHY"]

wait, is the man in the left is... younger Max? He looks like an adult man here and much older than younger BB

(No apparently it's the present BB watching his younger self, it's really confusing and I have mild prosopagnosia)

So now, royals get Hawaii vacation, congrats

And BB makes a scene in the middle of Honolulu, and Lockjaw just disappeared before things got into a big mess, bad dog

Medusa: I have to find Black Bolt -riding a bus with tourists- Karnak: I have to find my king -trying to go down a cliff and fall-

Wow, Max is talking Crys about her privilege and propagandas Crys: You make me sick, you are just a human Wow, this Crys is worse than comic Crys

not because of his personality or something, but because he has no power??? Oh yes, she needs a mediocre human's dick even she can be a eugenicist scum to her own family member The show is really bad

They only keep the bad parts of comic canon in the show

It's already over 50 minutes so far, and I can't find any good part in the show... other than those unfortunate actors' acting skills

Gorgon is walking into the sea and battling with crashing waves in vain because he feels emo for Triton

And nice surfers rescue him because... apparently... he can't swim...? And those surfers are too nice and chill, they knew Inhumans already because of plot or something like that and just listening Gorgon's story while sharing beers. They are too nice

Crys can contact Medusa because Auran just dropped her comlink and leave it? Those people are supposed to be elite guards but they are so incompetent, even can't hold their childish princess Oh apparently it was Auran's plot to catch Medusa, much better

Gorgon: You should leave Surfers: Why we have to leave our beach Gorgon: because I challenged my cousin and here will be the battleground

Umm... in that case who has to leave the beach is you, Gorgon...

Oh Eldrac was in the show, I wonder how's he now Max wants to kill BB and Gorgon especially, and not mention to Karnak, he's fine with Karnak being alive... while he's not with Gorgon, lol

[Eldrac, looks like Doh the boss character of a retro video game Arkanoid] ...is this... Eldrac...? What they have done to you, you are boring here

BB feels awkward with his outfit and tries to change to norm clothes is definitely funny, finally I can find a good intentional comedy in the show... And he steals those outfit and hurts security guy, wow

[BB is getting arrested by Honolulu cops] Definitely they should make the show as a superhuman sitcom Like make Max a fabulous mad scientist and let him commit a coup in every week, and BB and co overthrow him and take back the throne at the end of the show. In Every Week.

[BB is running away from the cops and police cruisers] This is definitely a comedy material Marvel, are you telling me this is not a comedy show?

Police officer: Taser! Taser! -shoot taser- BB: Oof -destroying a police car accident because he can't hold his voice-

This BB is a weakass, comic BB has endured far worse, how could you have sexy time with your wife if mere human taser let you lost your control!?

[Police officers are beating the shit out of BB] Wow, be nice to an alien robber, honolulu police officers

Max grabbing his hand makes the boy see those visions, but putting an assuring hand on the boy's shoulder causes nothing and they are just okay...? Hmmm...

[Auran snaps a bus driver's neck] Auran you shouldn't kill a human just because they are trying to stop you entering a bus, people will be suspicious

Auran: -finding Medusa's broken comlink in the empty bus- Me: Oh yeah, Medusa ditched the comlink to hide her whereabouts and went to search BB Medusa: -appears behind the bus and attacking Auran and starts catfighting- Me: wtf

Medusa stubbed Auran with a pocket knife... isn't she supposed to be an elite royal guard!? Why everyone is stupid and weakass Medusa takes a comlink from Auran and tells BB she'll find him and kill Max, with tearful eyes, but I even don't feel any sympathy toward those slave owners... especially to that king who tried to invite more people while many people under his rule are already suffering the overpopulation...

And the mine scene... they are supposed to be a civilization with highly advanced tech, but they have to use their own bare hands and simple tool for mining? What about letting them use more safe and effective machines? Is it too much to ask?

Oh yes, they have no tech guy other than Maximus, apparently. This was why they depend on his technology for their city defense even he'd use it for his future coup(and show!Max is not a tech guy here, so they don't have any tech guy apparently)

Okay, I can see what they wanted to do. Jenkins and Lee's Inhumans second series and Hines' Silent War. I can see many references from those comics. But they couldn't make any coherent plot and story from them.

The showrunner thought their version was "more complicated, more real, and more compelling version" than comic Max and miserably failed because they wanted to do Inhumans vol.2 and Silent War and the very core part of the story is "Max has a point but his twisted mind and impulsiveness made his execution totally bad" It's sad that Once and Future Kings haven't written before their production This is why you are the worst showrunner in the MCU, mister Buck

So... this Auran has healing factor... she doesn't have anything that makes her Auran but okay...

I finished Episode 1 & 2, it feels like eternity

[allthefilmsiveseenforfree]

What Men Want

So first off, I thought this movie was going to be so cringey. I expected nothing less from director Adam Shankman, who you may know as the director and choreographer of Hairspray and who I may know as my favorite guest judge on the best seasons of So You Think You Can Dance. What Men Want is the gender-flipped version of the 2000 Mel Gibson movie, What Women Want. The answer to that movie’s question was 1) for men to just like, listen, and also not be assholes? and 2) stop letting Mel Gibson be in movies. Well it’s 19 years later, and at least we got half of one of those things still going strong. So what’s the answer to the 2019 version, which sees Ali Davis (Taraji P. Henson) suddenly privy to all the innermost thoughts of every man she’s near? Well...

Treat them like people? Like, with respect and dignity? I think that’s what the film was getting at, but it’s sort of obscured by all the bro-y dick jokes, racism, and misogyny. 

Some thoughts: 

I’ll be honest with you - I thought this was going to be SO stupid but honestly, this giant conference room full of men in which Ali is one of maybe 2 or 3 women in it? Yeah, that’s WAYYY too many men and this vibe is so real. So there are at least some glimmers of an actual point to this movie’s whole existence.

Also Taraji P. Henson’s wardrobe is incredible. She’s like a beacon of awesome style in the midst of all these boring suits. She’s magnetic, she’s vivacious, and I have no idea how anyone would possibly pick one of these boring dudebros over her, given the option.

Ok but wait, I mean, it sucks that she didn’t get the promotion but you can’t just call all your coworkers backstabbing bitches. That’s an HR violation, not cool, girl.

Damn Aldis Hodge is so charming and hot as Ali’s love interest, Will. I’ve loved him since season 1 of Supernatural and he just keeps getting better with age. He’s smooth, disarming, and the kind of hot that feels accessible, you know? This first sex scene is truly terrifying though - and I know you’re an A-list star now, but no one keeps their bra on, Taraji. Nothing feels less realistic in a sex scene than that.

Honestly the entire condom-on-the-back sequence is so horrifyingly unprofessional, it’s no wonder Ali didn’t get this promotion.

The main reason this film is rated R is because men are gross, and I just feel like everyone in the room deserves better than this. 

As far as performances go, though, everyone feels a little bit uneven or off their game with the exception of Hodge and Erykah Badhu, who is clearly having the time of her motherfucking life here as the psychic who helps guide Ali through her newly acquired men-hearing powers. But Taraji is pinballing between manic and brooding in almost every scene, and she doesn’t quite have the physical comedy chops of say, Aisha Tyler, or even Gabrielle Union to help sell this implausible premise when the script is lacking. I think I might enjoy her more as unintentionally funny rather than purposefully funny. Pete Davidson and Max Greenfield are basically just phoning in their supporting roles. And while watching athletes play exaggerated versions of themselves is delightful, no one is giving Reggie Miller or Shaq an Oscar for their performances here.

This soundtrack is very basic, very obvious song choices but damn, there are some good cuts here - like “Bills, Bills, Bills” during the poker scene, hell YES.

I know this is nitpicky, but it feels weird that the punchline to Kellan Lutz’s big “ooh let’s have a spontaneous hookup” scene is 1) he’s into BDSM and 2) he’s so serious about it that he has a whole room devoted to it. Like, it does not take an expert in the field to clearly see that there ain’t NO WAY that man buckled himself into all that gear in the 2 minutes it took her in the bathroom. So not only is your punchline lame, obvious, and totally off the mark when it comes to actual BDSM practices (because none of that was safe, sane, OR consensual), but it also doesn’t logically make any sense. I will admit that it made me laugh in the credits when his character’s actual credited name was “Captain Fucktastic” though. 

Turns out, even after all these years, I still hate hearing anything that comes out of Tracy Morgan’s mouth.

This promo video is so embarrassing, it looks like it was made on racist iMovie. Big booty hos and gold chains are the only way to get a young black basketball player to sign with you, right? God, it would be embarrassing for them if it wasn’t so damn appalling. 

Is the only narrative for sports agents pulling a Jerry Maguire and going free agent? That’s the plot of actual Jerry Maguire, Ballers, and now this. Are there any sports agents that just...stay where they are? How do they even get anything done if everyone’s just waiting for everyone else to Jerry Maguire?

Also, anything and everything having to do with queer issues in this film is pretty fucked up. Ali’s assistant Brandon (Josh Brener) is gay, and when he starts to date a fellow employee, per Ali’s mind-reading suggestion, they share one spinning hug, and that’s it. There’s no other expressions of desire or affection, not even one kiss, as there would be for any straight couple that Ali played matchmaker for. There’s also a revelation during a big wedding scene at the end where Ali gets drunk, decides THEN is the best time to stop the wedding (not in the weeks leading up to it when she definitely could have) and reveals a whole host of secret affairs, including one woman’s husband sleeping with another man. It’s played as THE most shocking revelation - a spectator literally faints - and the woman angrily accuses her husband of kissing her after he was sucking dick. It’s meant to be hilariously *shocking* but the pattern of jokes throughout the movie just feels gross and homophobic and woefully outdated.

I will say I’m glad there’s at least some acknowledgement of the intersection of race and gender and how it has affected Ali’s career in the film. I had hoped that this movie would use Ali’s powers to better undermine and exploit all the bullshit she has to put up with as a black woman working in a white male-dominated field, but I suppose even acknowledging intersectionality directly is a big get for a major studio movie.

The main message of the story is that black women literally have to have supernatural powers granted to them to have the chance to advance to the same level as a mediocre white man.

Also the ending is super abrupt because they clearly didn’t know how to end it besides just “aaaaaand everything is resolved!” 

What Men Want is uneven, but at least engages with some deeper issues than its Mel Gibson predecessor. It has its moments of humor (Shaq thinking about himself in the third person just GETS ME) but overall I don’t know that this movie is what men OR women really want.

[unstiteo-blog]

100 Lessons in Life.

(Summary: we learn more about Gabriel "John" Utterson's father, Hugo Utterson, and what he wants most in life.)

Chapter II: To be a Father

I haven’t exactly caught up, emotionally, with what just happened. To be a father means you must always expect the unexpected, no matter how small or dire the situation is. If you can’t be there and do anything in your power to make everything all right when your child is in need, what good are you as a parent?

Absolutely no good. At least, that’s how I was raised. To be a father means you must make the scary demons not go away, but appear in a different light; you must teach your child how to face their fears as there will be a day you will not be able to help them. That day is judgment day. Have you succeeded as a parent, a provider, a caretaker? Have you raised them properly and given them enough knowledge on the real world to understand how to provide for themselves?

It is a day I am always hopeful for, since my children can’t wait to change the world in their own beautiful ways. They are brilliant, they are witty, they are humble—well, Zara could be a bit more humble, though her pride is what makes her who she is—they are grounded, and they love each other dearly. Even on their worst days (as siblings bicker and fight), I know they could never find it in themselves to ignore one another. I am forever, and always will be, intensely proud of my daughters and son. Nothing can change that.

To be a father means you must accept how much you love your children, and also accept they will never love you as much as you love them. It isn’t because they don’t love you at all, it is because they aren’t your parents. To be a father means you must be ready for the day they leave, even if it will hurt. You must be ready to say goodbye with a brave smile and a strong voice. It is what they want.

I want that day to arrive for my babies, I sincerely do. But if I can’t help Jack, what are the chances he will live to see that day at all? That is a thought that all parents have, losing their angels. If I can’t protect my children, can I do anything for them at all?

This noise nearly prevents me from seeing the girls in the kitchen, cleaning up. I stumble back a bit, blinking confusedly. The nanny was dismissed as soon as I'd arrived, however I didn’t expect to see them clean up after themselves. Did they feel obligated to? I hurry inside and shoo them out into the dining room, which is only a few steps back. “No, no, no! Little girls do not belong in the kitchen. I am happy to clean up once I come home.”

They all give me frowns as a response. I find myself doing the same. “You’re worried about your brother, aren’t you?” Sienna nodded her head.

“Papa, is there any way we can help?”

“Be there by his side when he needs you, and please be patient with him. Your concern is as deep as mine, but you three are still young. Have fun, please. You already know how to cook and clean, yes?”

“Yes, but that isn’t the issue.”

“What is then?”

“You can’t expect us to distract ourselves with fun when we’re too troubled to have fun. You have always told us that distracting yourself from pain is unhealthy, so why do you do it?”

Ah…sometimes I underestimate Sienna, and for no good reason. I should’ve known that she, the fifteen year old who enjoys the company of her father or herself along with a book, sees the world in an entirely different view from someone, say, Jack or Zara's age. I wonder if she’s ever shared such philosophical ideologies with Luna, as she’s the quietest and most timid but I’ve noticed she adores hearing what other people have to say. She is a very good listener, my little Luna. Did she inherit that from her mother?

“Sienna, stop,” begs Luna at that moment. “I’m sure papa has a reasonable explanation for why he does what he does.”

“I agree, but I won’t stand for this hypocrisy.”

“Pressuring someone for answers never works! Drop it, please.”

Stubbornness against kindness. I curse the world for ever allowing the girls to share my pigheadedness. There is a difference between perseverance and…obstinacy. “Girls,” I warn, “that’s enough. Always carry your caring nature wherever you go, Luna. Sienna, you are right. I should not be giving you advice if I am not willing to take it. I'm sorry.”

Sienna’s face softens. “Thank you. I forgive you.”

“Dad,” says Zara, tugging on my sleeve, “where was Gabito anyways?”

“In my office reading my books.”

“Did he make a big mess?”

“Yes, but I’ll clean it up later.”

“Dad?”

“Yes, dear?”

“Is he okay?”

My chest felt sore looking at their faces. I knelt to her height, held her hands, and offered her a smile. “Eventually, yes. Like I said, if you stay by his side and be patient with him, he'll be okay again.”

“Forever?”

“I…No, I’m afraid. There will be days where he will most likely be troubled like this once more. The best we can do is love him as we always have. All right?”

“Okay. I can do that.”

“I know.”

I kissed her forehead, held out my arms, and she practically ran into me. The little fighter is getting strong! Sienna and Luna joined in, but they didn’t seem too joyous. “Challenge any anxious thoughts about it. It’s all right to be scared or worried, or both—it just means you love that person with all your heart. And you three have the biggest hearts for tiny, adorable children. Please, talk to me if you ever need anything. I love you.”

“Thank you, papa,” says Sienna.

“We love you, too,” adds Luna.

“Who you calling adorable?” questions Zara. I chuckle.

“I need to fetch Jack his glass of water. Spend time together.”

They nodded their heads and ran off to play. I grabbed a cup, filled it with water, and returned to Jack's room. I was about to greet him until I realised he was already asleep. I set the glass on his bookshelf that was a few inches shorter than him, and glanced back at him.

To be a father means you must always expect the unexpected.

So then, why wasn’t I expecting this?

I silently leave his room, my head starting to pound. Wonderful. I'll just have a glass of water myself, wait for the girls to sleep, then go to bed as early as possible.

I have a long day of work ahead of me tomorrow anyhow. Not that my feelings matter.

To be a father means you are always willing to make sacrifices.

When I arrived at work, I was greeted with that unpleasant stench of wax in every nook and cranny yet again. I crinkled my nose—I never enjoyed this part. Frankly, I never enjoyed any part of my job. I’m aspiring to be a lawyer at the moment. It'll be far more beneficial for my children and I.

That’s it, Hugo. Focus on them. Think about how much you want to succeed to keep them happy.

The stench dissipated. I entered my office and got to work. As of right now, they call me a chandler. A candlemaker, if you will. Though, I’ve caught myself making soap more and more often. I'm not complaining. So long as I don’t have to deal with the smell of wax all day, I'm fairly satisfied.

About an hour in, a pale man with sand blond hair and deep sea blue eyes entered, and they lit up when they fell on me. “Mr. Utterson, we're needed in the back for a conference.”

What? Now? “All right. I will be there promptly.”

“Very good, sir.”

With that, he left, presumably to attend the conference. I always wonder who that lad is. I don’t believe I ever got his name. Ah, well. Perhaps he’s just another stranger I'll never know.

I leave my office and enter the conference room, taking my usual seat at the very back. Understand this isn’t my usual seat by choice. I would prefer to sit somewhere else, someplace that doesn’t make me feel like I’m being stared down whenever I speak, but I don’t necessarily have a say in the matter.

I suppose I do, but I only have a say in it if I don’t wish to work there any longer.

I’m aspiring to be a lawyer, after all.

“We got a big order in today, gents,” says my boss. “I expect one-thousand candles and one-thousand soaps by the end of the month.”

I can feel the unease in the room. We’ve made more than that in the past, but like any artist with a painting or drawing, these things take time.

“Utterson,” he continues, “you’re on soap duty.”

“Yes, sir.”

“I'll be assigning who works with you.”

“Yes, sir.”

The unease rose. Nobody wished to work with me. They all think I’m pretentious, they all think I’m a suck-up.

There’s another reason why they despise me, however, I feel as though that one is rather obvious.

“Owens, you’re on candle duty.”

“You may as well give it to Utterson as well,” says someone that is not Owens. “He wouldn’t fret about getting a splinter stuck in his finger.”

Snickering arose.

“I agree!” says another man who definitely isn’t Owens. “I haven’t caught him making a fuss about his hair when there’s dust about.”

“It may have been all that womanly influence on him growing up. He doesn’t know how to behave.”

As if either of those twits were to talk.

“Sir,” I say, clearing my throat, “if I finish early, may I tend to my daughters and son? My four children, three girls and one,” I glimpse at both those rude men, “white son.”

“They can't tend to themselves? I know one of your girls is about that age.”

“They can, but I enjoy seeing my children get along with one another. It…makes my heart swell with joy.”

“Fine. But just this once, Utterson. It was damnably lucky that you got this job, so I expect those soaps to be the best bars of soap you’ve ever produced.”

“Understood, sir.”

“Good.”

He started to assign Owens his helpers, but I didn’t pay much attention. Instead, I was busy fighting against a smirk. The two insulting men were glaring at me. What can I say? You show the boss work above mediocrity and you respect him, you sort of become his favourite.

Truthfully, I wanted the attention off of Owens, whoever he might’ve been. I heavily disagree with the implications that being raised around women makes a man less of a man. Jack learns so many things from his sisters every day, it blows me away how brilliant they all are. Those girls are so kind, so genuine. I sincerely believe their impact on his life will only be a positive one.

“Utterson.”

Ah. My boss has assigned me my partners. Not one of them looked happy.

That’s fine. It’s me who'll be earning that time off anyhow for my work above mediocrity.

Hm. I wonder who Owens is. I wonder what he’s thinking right about now.

I came home to, well—

“Zara! What have I said about stealing my dresses? They’re too big for you!”

“You don’t even wear the ones I steal! Leave me alone!”

“What’s wrong with your own?”

“I said leave me alone, Sienna! I’m helping you out!”

“You are most certainly not you little thief!”

That.

That is what I came home to.

“Gabriel, stop tracking mud in the house! Papa works so hard to keep it clean!” scolds Luna.

“It’s not my doing! How are you so sure it isn’t Zizi?”

“Because if it was Zara, there would be mud on her dress and face!”

“You mean my dress?” butts in Sienna.

“Same difference!”

“That doesn’t even make any sense!”

“It means stay out of arguments that didn’t involve you to begin with!”

“You made it seem like it was Zara's dress when it’s not! It’s my dress!”

“What does it matter?” asks Jack. “It’s just a bloody dress.”

“You’re a boy!” scream the girls.

All right. I’ve seen enough.

I dismiss the nanny with a tired smile, and I felt it vanish the moment I approached them. It’s not that I’m angry or annoyed, I’m merely exhausted. Their sibling fights can be…something. It can be about one thing but then it ends up being something else. It’s almost amazing how they do it. “All right, all right. One at a time, please. What happened?”

They all started talking at the same time.

“My dears,” I cut off, “I said one at a time.”

“Zara stole my dress!”

“Sienna’s a joyless snitch!”

“Gabriel tracked mud in the house!”

“Luna’s a liar!”

“Sienna, please share. You wear roughly three dresses tops, and you are beginning to outgrow them anyhow. That reminds me, we are going shopping tomorrow. Zara, what have I said about stealing you sisters belongings? They are not yours, so you do not take them. And no name calling. Jack, have you been tracking mud in the house?”

“No!”

“Then what’s that on the bottom of your shoe?”

He went quiet. Then, he pouted.

“Don’t give me that face, young man. Luna doesn’t lie and you know this. If you wish to be a lawyer, you need to be better at arguing. Luna?”

“Yes, papa?”

“That wasn’t a very nice thing to say to Sienna. In fact, none of you were very kind to each other. We are all terribly angry today. Close your eyes, children.”

They followed my instructions.

“And count back from ten in your heads.

There was silence. Sweet, sweet silence. When they opened their eyes, the anger had vanished from their faces.

“Very good. Now, why don’t we try talking about these things instead of yelling and pointing fingers at each other that ultimately gives me a headache?”

Sienna was the first to start. “I suppose you can borrow my dresses, Zara. But you best not ruin them!”

Her sister grinned. “No promises.”

“You’re awful. Why did you even want it today? You spoke like you were hiding something.”

Come to think of it, Zara does appear to be holding something. She’s slouched over a bit as well. Zara frowned and hesitantly revealed what she was hiding underneath the layers that were far too big for her.

“I found him near the backyard.”

A puppy. It was cold, scared, and hurt. Severely hurt. Does it even have any fur…? This poor thing, my heart shattered at the sight. I can only guess it hasn’t been fed if it was left to die like this.

“Oh no!” exclaimed Luna. “Juju, did you know about this?”

“Yeah. Zizi went to grab something warm while I fetched him out of the mud.”

“That explains the mud tracks.”

“I’m sorry for being dishonest.”

“I’m sorry for not understanding.”

Luna was swift to tug at my sleeve. “Papa, we have to save him! Can we keep him, please-please-please?”

“Luna, dogs are a big responsibility and—”

“Spare me the lecture, he’ll die without our help! You can’t tell me you don’t want to help him. I know you do.”

When looking at that injured puppy, I felt that aching pain again. That insatiable desire to help the baby until it was all better. Luna isn’t normally stubborn, if ever, but she won’t take no for an answer. For good reason, of course.

Even if she could, I don’t think I can bring myself to say no.

“All right. We may keep the dog.”

The children cheered. Even Jack, the cat person. I think he’s just happy to know we’re not allowing an innocent animal to die.

To be a father means to give in to your child’s wants every now and then. Sometimes those big grins of theirs is what makes it all worth it.

“Will you take turns caring for it?” I ask.

“We all will!” replies Luna, her smile still brighter than the sun. “I’m happy to bathe him.”

“I don’t mind walking him,” says Sienna.

“And I can play with him!” says Zara.

“I'll feed him,” volunteers Jack.

All of this pleases Luna. To be a father means you must always stick together as a team for your family. That’s something I learned within this family.

[fanesavin]

The festivities ahead of the Coronation begin with Lords and Ladies settling in for the night ahead of an exciting and much anticipated day.

[ Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 ] 

Curiously, Iann remained where he was as the crowed departed, watching the man who tried to attack Lady Faye of Lacroy. He wanted to speak to either Lady Faye or Inquisitor Savin, but then suddenly there was his little brother as well, being a bother. Iann made a snorting noise. “The honey makes the mead, you silly thing.” He looked a little closer at Miguel. “You looked…piqued. Did you enjoy that display of magic? Or - whatever it was?” Iann said, unwilling to just brand everything he didn’t understand as 'magic’.

“I would love a walk,” the priestess said to Bella. “Would you like to come along, Maya?” she asked her companion. “Unless you have pressing matters to attend to for your Lord?” It was her way of giving the other woman an out. “I’m a priestess /for/ the Lord of Light. I do His bidding. Go where he commands.”

Fane watched the man be dragged away and exhaled short and sharp. He turned to survey those lingering behind dragging his fingers back through his hair. Seeing Iann and Miguel he trailed over to them. “That was no magic.”

“I will also be going, specifically for that very reason. May I accompany you on your way?” She asked. “I am Octavia.” She said introducing herself to Lady Lacroy.

Iann looked at Fane. “Are you alright?” Another question followed. “Will she be alright?” And then a statement. “You no doubt heard what happened to our own sister-by-marriage earlier today, Inquisitor.”

Ephram interjected, from where he was standing near the princes of the island kingdom. “And a not inconsiderable number of barrels of mead are from Honeywild Holding.” He was still, like many of them, watching the aftermath of what had happened with the … witch, he supposed? … but it seemed like as good an in as any to strike up some conversation with the noble seafaring Princes and Lord Savin.  Ephram turned his focus to the little knot of gathering nobles; it seemed luck was on his side, when it came to ingratiating himself to them as swiftly as possible.

“If you wish,” Faye said, wiping her hands carefully on the cloth. “Faye. Faye Lacroy. A pleasure, Octavia.”

Iann scoffed. “Honeywild Holding. Any place that needs to claim its purpose is doomed to mediocrity….ah.” He turned to regard the tall blond man, a haughty once-over. “That makes sense, now that I see who makes such a claim. Lord…Pittypat? I forget your name.” And most other people would too in a few years, Iann thought silently. This poor lost Lordling.

Fane waved off the question for his own well-being good-naturedly. “If that display was anything to judge by… Yes, I think she’ll be just fine,” he said looking in the direction Faye had vanished equal parts amused, concerned and unsure quite what to make of what he’d just seen. Though what Iann said next drew his attention back aside to him “I did… and I’ve asked that some of my men do some investigating… Subtly of course. How does she fair now?” he asked of Cassandra.

“Likewise, Faye.” She said walking beside the woman. “I heard the mad spit the word witch at you.” Octavia pulled her long hair out of her face and tucked some behind her ear. “I had wished that with this 'peace’ the High Raj is restoring to the lands we would have a more open thinking society.” She said shaking her head. Finding someone that was also a witch was a rare occurrence. Octavia did not practice her magic, but it was certainly manifesting itself these days- and growing stronger each one that had passed.

“Pettaline. I’ve still got the name of my ancestors, Your Highness, and unfortunately the legacy of their unembellished naming customs when it comes to our lands.” Ephram smiled as if the jibe had been some sort of friendly joke between them. Over the years and the dwindling of House Pettaline down to nothing, he’d gotten very, very good at not letting humiliation show. “Are you talking of the kidnapping attempt that happened earlier? Between that and this bizarre attack and accusation of witchery, it seems the Capital’s not as prepared for so many people flooding into it as they thought they’d be.”

“She’s comfortable, with her precious daughter,” Iann replied, and seemed satisfied that Savin had taken it upon himself to look into that matter as well. He was not the 'Inquisitor’ for nothing, after all. A title that Iann understood (as his own House once underwent a thorough Inquisition, over three hundred years ago) and respected. Or, well, he specifically respected Fane Savin to be thorough. “Tell me what you find…” he saw the mix of emotions flit across Savin’s face, and then looked amused as well. “It seems some magic was afoot. Both yourself and my little brother have been successfully caught under some enchantment of The Witch of the Wilds.”

Fane nodded a little upon hearing that she was safe with her daughter. “I’ll see it handled… but the timing seems far too convenient,” he admitted honestly though as Pettaline added his opinion to the matter about preparations Fane could only make a small noise of agreement. “That’s true enough, you would think the Cloverry and Crown would have forseen some incidents… Yet I see little being done about it by the Royal guard.” As for Iann’s comment about the Witch of the Wild’s enchantment Fane merely shrugged a shoulder, “she’s an interesting one. A little stern and prickly perhaps but… interesting.”

Iann On the point the little (tall) Lordling made, Iann had to agree. He tapped at his beard. “Well, I suppose we shouldn’t all expect perfection just yet.” it was a blithe comment. Iann didn’t expect perfection at all. “Still, my heart is beating quick from all the excitement. No better time to compare mead and proclaim the Forty Isles caskets more worthy, eh?” He smiled, and clapped Pettaline on the back, hard. He looked around. “Now where’s my lovely White Lady gone? I’d like to enjoy myself in the confines of the Bluesprings Keep. Who will join me? Savin, I’ve yet to see you tipsy, never mind ten sheets to the wind.” He said it with a slow and careful smile though, so Inquisitor Savin didn’t see it as mockery, but a friendly invitation.

Bella walked alongside Faye as they made there way to the event. Lord of Light, no wonder Bella had felt her presence in the crowd of others. The darkness that was evident all over her person was a heavy contrast but Bella didn’t quite see it as anything that should make them enemies. Enemies came with a purpose beyond just a connection to something. “When did you feel the call to your Lord?” Bella asked, looking about the event as they walked into it. Food and drinks all over the place, her wolf salivating as it waited for her to fetch him some food. If he just rushed the table there would be screams.

Silent as the owl that Iann likened him to, the Prelate materialized in step with Faye and Octavia as they walked. “Lady Lacroy,” he said, and acknowledged the young woman accompanying her with a nod as well, “I’m deeply perturbed by what you just endured. Please be assured that I will be assigning some members of the Emerald Hand to watch for any such further attacks on your person.” Theodore didn’t offer a definition of the Emerald Hand with this announcement; either the woman knew of the shadowy agents of the Cloverry, or she didn’t.

“It’s hardly the worse thing I’ve been called.” But Faye agreed with Octavia. Peace would only hold if the old mindsets died with the war.

Fane looked at the crowds moving towards the main keep his features set into a slight frown. “We should discuss it more but later as you say… perhaps a few drinks.” With what had happened first to Grand Lady Cassandra and then Lady Lacroy Fane found himself a little perturbed and distraction typically made not a welcome companion for revelry. But a few drinks wouldn’t hurt he supposed. “Tell me you brought the Amber casket with you at least? I might be persuaded to have a few more if you have it.”

Ephram threw his shoulders back, straightening at Fane’s note concerning the lack of timely response by the Royal guard. “Maybe the Raj’s soldiers have orders to be on the lookout for threats to the throne,” he said, eyes narrowing thoughtfully. “Which, I’d reckon, would leave those of us capable of spotting other skirmishes and trouble-making the responsibility of keeping the peace. D'you think, Lord Savin? Highness Cardero?”

“I wouldn’t think that witch should be used as a slur.” Octavia shrugged. “When I think of witch, I think of power. Passion. Strength.” She said looking over to Faye.

Miguel kept mostly quiet, but he nodded to the man who proclaimed himself a Pettaline. Was this another noble being taken for granted like Lady Lacroy? And was he worth being friendly with? There was a lot of mental math going on in Miguel’s head. But he didn’t want to appear too friendly with anyone in front of Iann. “Hearts beating fast indeed. I wouldn’t mind a little friendly competition.”

The excitement, as it was called, only served to show the priestess that this place needed more guidance. Violence beget violence, after all. But she followed as the others moved towards the festivities that had been announced. The strange woman with the violet eyes drew her attention briefly, but she soon turned back to Bellamy. “I can’t recall ever not being in His service,” Scarlett answered. “It’s been my life.”

Fane hooked his thumbs into the loop of his scabbard. “Perhaps the Raj’s guards, but what about the City Watch?” Fane asked the other Lordling casting a look towards a few of those soldiers in question that dotted the streets, he couldn’t say he was overly familiar of the man or his holdings but he made a sound point. “Aye, perhaps but is it our peace to keep? We were invited here to witness the crowning of a King not to control his subjects.”

Maya excused herself briefly to purchase her spices. She haggled a bit less than usual, but still got a better price than most. Spices tucked safely away she returned to the party. Once there she picked up a pitcher of wine and began her rounds offering more to the guests.

And now the vultures descend on their quarry, Faye thought to herself. Faye knew the Cloverry. She knew of the Emerald Hand. And while never having any particular interaction or grief with them, she was always suspicious of anyone that said they only wanted what was best for the people. “Prelate,” she greeted, remembering what the entitled’s robes looked like. “It’s nothing that can be helped, I’m afraid. Please don’t use your resources for my sake, though it’s appreciated.”

Danian had chosen to take the long route to the Capital. They could have ridden to the nearest port and sailed down, but they rather enjoyed the road, to be honest. There was far more to see - and they could have the peace of traveling alone. As soon as they reached the city gates, they had dismounted from their steed to walk him up through the lower city. They weren’t bothered by the people there. They weren’t in their formal wear. They even chatted briefly with a 'commoner’ or two. It wasn’t their first time in the Southern city, but it never hurt to stop and ask a few directions. When they finally reached the courtyard, their horse had been secured in a stable and they were wandering freely throughout the streets, hand on the pommel of the sword at their hip - a habit they had never been able to shake. But something- or rather someone stopped them in their tracks. They stood and blinked. Once. Twice. Squinted their eyes. Then, with a swift step, they weaved through the crowd over to him, a small grin forming on their lips. “Tuah?” They certainly hoped they hadn’t mistaken the man, but they were quite sure. “-Or is Your Majesty, now? I’ve heard some very interesting stories coming over from the Peninsula.”

Iann was amused to have the little (tall) Lordling trailing behind himself and the Inquisitor. He didn’t find it absurd or annoying, but rather the norm. The higher one rose in ranks, the more the minor nobility clung close. Plus, the added bonus was that Pettaline fell into step with Miguel, thus setting the ranking quite smoothly as they made their way towards the Keep. “I will definitely like to speak of it more, when mouths are also more willing to speak,” he agreed with Fane. Iann could hold his liquor, and he suspected most of the nobility here would make the same claim. Still, Iann decided he was better at it, simply because he had to be. He noticed Lord Tuah hovering near one of the steps and gave him a courteous nod. “The Amber casket was brought and branded with your name on it, Inquisitor,” Iann crowed. And he gave Pettaline a passing nod. “I do however, love these spontaneous demonstrations of power.” Iann did not love it at all, as he continued. “It reminds the commonfolk why they are ruled by the likes of us. A very wise observation indeed, Lord Pettaline.” It wasn’t wise at all, but Iann was like a cat who enjoyed playing with his food.

“Thank you. Even if you’re one of a minority,” Faye smiled sadly. “Though I have no real magic. Not anymore.”

“Oh?” Octavia questioned, she tilted her head at the womans comment. “Could’ve fooled me.” She said with a wiggle of her eyebrows.

Faye smiled. “I"m clever, that’s all. What men see as magic is simply… using my resources wisely.”

The Red Priestess fell into the slowly moving crowd, taking in the new faces, the symbols of status and the way in which everyone was gathered together. So many names. So much bloodshed between families. Yes, the Lord had been right to send her here. To deliver the sword to the One.

Fane nodded upon hearing that there was wine for him but said little more, instead opting to walk beside Iann as they ended the Great Hall that was filling with people. A band nearby struck up a jaunty tune, light-hearted and enough to start getting a few people already in their cups to try their hand at dancing.

“Clever you are, you didn’t need anyone's help back there. You were fine without aid from the gentleman or myself.” She said complimenting the woman's tenacity.

Miguel held in a sigh. Iann was talking out of his rear, and he didn’t believe anything that was said anymore. In his mind it was all posturing. Might as well posture with them - he rolled up his sleeves and crossed his arms as they walked. “Lord Pettaline, what kind of flowers do you have in the Honeywild Holding?” He asked with a friendly smile.

Faye smiled again, though it was a little less bright. “When you’ve been on your own as long as I have, you learn to adapt. Or you die.” Not that it truly mattered. Her House was already dead. Faye was just too stubborn to let go. They moved on into the revelry, and Faye looked around for someplace to get a drink.

“I’d think that involving oneself in the safety of the people of the Bluesprings doesn’t count as control, or wanton shows of power,” Ephram ventured after a moment’s consideration after Fane and Iann had their say. “But then, I’ve only got a handful of families to be responsible for, nothing so grand as the Blackspire or the Forty Islands. Probably you lords have a much better estimation of the politics here than I do.” Acknowledgement of his lower rank made, Ephram turned his attention to the Threepenny Prince walking quietly beside him. “All politics is like having older siblings you keep reminding you that you don’t know as much as they do, huh?” He was bolstered by that pretty smile the Prince turned on him, though, and said, “We don’t cultivate flowers in the Holding, Your Highness. It’s all wildflowers growing where they like – mostly those yellow sailbushes, and a pale blue version of queen’s roses, and everywhere there’s these frenzies of tiny little white laceblossoms, the most blinding white you ever saw, when they’re all a-blooming.”

Bella could not relate, the darkness had come to her when she felt herself surrounded and unsafe, something that sought her out when she needed it too. “Perhaps our guidance comes to us differently,” she mused heading towards a table of food, pulling off some chicken for her wolf and holding it in her hand. “Does your lord let you drink?” She asked, wine and various other drinks covering the table along with the food.

Maya approached one of the women who seemed to be looking for something. “A drink m'am?” she asked holding out her tray.

“Perhaps,” the priestess nodded. “And my lord has no interest in what I do for myself, only for him. I’m allowed to do as I please, as long as I go when he calls.”

Prelate Theodore smoothly rejoindered Faye’s automatic protest, saying, “It’s already in motion, Lady Lacroy. Believe me, the deployment of the Hand is as much for the sake of the Cloverry and the Raj as it is for your safety.” He collected a goblet of one of the wines that was less palatable to most people, a resinous green vintage from an ancient vineyard to the West. “Do you foresee any other concerns arising during your visit?”

“Unfortunately true, M'Lady.” Octavia motioned to a woman who had glasses of mead and wine upon a tray. “Thank you, Miss.” She said nodding to the woman.

Tuah turned when his name was called out, his brow raised and head cocked slightly to the sight. It was obvious that he dreaded any interaction that was to be had with any noble families, seeing that he had nothing much in common with most of them. Or at least he assumed it so. His eyes scanned the newcomer, taking in the sword by their hip that seemed more practical than decorative. He tried to place the face to someone of his past. Someone from the Dawnguard perhaps? He could feel the tenseness from his confidante, raising his hand to ask him to stand down. “Danian?” he guessed, before it clicked and a wide smile as he closed the distance between them and gave Dani a hug. “By the Lord, look how you’ve grown. Well, only by a little,” Tuah couldn’t help but teased, crows feet appearing at the corners of his eyes as he smiled fondly at the other. “And it’s Tuah. There is no need for such things between us, hm.”

Miguel nodded in agreement. “Truly, that’s why I tire so easily of politics.” His broad shoulders pulled up in a small shrug. “I would rather talk about flowers,” he said, not entirely honest, but not an outright lie. “That sounds wonderful. You know, I’ve never had any honey from the Honeywilds, though now I understand the name better,” he exclaimed with a chuckle. “Honeywilds… we cultivate our honey a little more, with certain plants, like lavender - so we know which hives have specific tastes or smells….”

Faye turned to the young girl as she came close. “Please,” Faye nodded, and took a large goblet of wine. “Thank you.” Turning to the Prelate, Faye hummed around a long sip of her drink. “Ahh, so the asking was merely a formality, was it?” She was hardly naive enough to think that she was of the same importance as the Raj and the Cloverry itself. “None caused by myself, I can assure you.” She nodded at Octavia, glancing again at the girl with the tray. She seemed… strangely familiar. But no. Faye couldn’t know her.

Prelate Theodore took a measured draught of his wine, savouring the piney stripe it laid down his throat as he swallowed. “Did I give the impression I was asking? How peculiar of me.”

“Duty never sleeps. Didn’t your cousin say that once, Inquisitor? Or perhaps your wife. Someone beautiful enough that I was distracted both by her words and her face,” Iann said with a smile that was more clever than happy. He turned his head slightly, looking over his shoulder for a moment. “I see your Lovel ward is here, and our old friend the Oathbreaker.” He motioned for a servant, requesting the Amber mead from the Cipprian Island casket to be opened for himself and Savin.

“No. But you did give the impression you wished to know my opinion in matters regarding my personal safety.” Faye tipped an eyebrow at the Prelate. “But it’s no matter. Safety is always of prime concern at times like this. The Raj should count himself lucky to have someone so… willing to take things in hand.”

Maya listened as the nobles spoke, absorbing information. Knowing more was always useful. She brought wine and mead around too. When Lord Cardero asked for the Cipprian Mead to be opened, she nodded with a, “Right away sir,” before going to open the cask. It would be better to disappear from the room for am moment and from the thoughts of those nobles and religious folks who seemed to eye her curiously.

Lord Savin’s ruminations over the technicalities of military duties and the Driftwood Prince’s prods at his dignity started to fade into less importance as Ephram’s attention was won over by this lesser prince of the isles. “Are you all that particular?” he asked, slowing his long stride slightly so they fell a little more behind the others. “About tastes and cultivation, I mean.” Ephram drifted entirely to a stop, giving Miguel a sidelong smile. “It’s not so bad to let things go a little wild, sometimes.”

Fane hummed, “aye to a point perhaps but I just wonder is it our duty to see a city’s laws are upheld when there are men whose jobs it is to do that?” He was mostly just postulating really, it was all said and done now and little could change the fact of what had happened. Though the mention of his late wife by Iann caused Fane to dip his head, “my late wife did, but she knew my inclination to duty better than most I suppose, that said something always catches your eye when you happen by our Halls.” A joke, in part at least, considering how many broods of iann’s bastards there were about his city now. “It appears so… I might head and see them.”

As the Lady Bella excused herself, the priestess found her own goblet of rich wine, so dark it was nearly black. Glancing around the room, she made her way around the periphery, pausing to watch a dancing couple.

“I’ll join you, if you don’t mind,” Iann said, happy to abandon his brother in light of speaking to the Lovel boy, and finding out anything about his dear son Buttercup.

Octavia thought about her father war chieftain and clan leader- and of how she had been framed for his murder. Once she fled their kingdom they were overrun with the High Raj, every last one of her family killed. Octavia shook her head as if to shake the thoughts out of her head and looked back to Faye. “I am not here on behalf of him, I am only accompanying someone.” She said looking around the room for Bella. “I had only wished to keep you safe from that madman, I had missed when he lunged for attack but saw when he held the blade to your neck..” She said, bringing her hand up to her own neck. “I do not like to watch as women suffer at the hands of men.” She shook her head.

Fane gestured for Iann to walk with him, “I don’t mind in the slightest…” And while he was content to go and see his ward and fellow commander, his thoughts turned to checking on Lady Lacroy after the incident. Perhaps in a little while.

One side of Miguel’s mouth turned up in a lopsided smile. “Well, it could have its value, but tasting the small differences is interesting, a challenge almost.” His eyebrows twitched a little at the word challenge. He got a couple glasses of the Cipprian Mead once it was opened and handed one to Lord Pettaline. “Of course, I would be more than happy to try mead made from your honey if you would be so kind as to point some out. I’m sure a taste of the wild won’t hurt me.”

“Do you serve the house of the your Mistress? Or just your Mistress alone?” Faye asked. She had no quarrells with sellswords or hedgeknights. She was merely curious. “And as for that, I appreciate it. Truly.” Faye laid a hand on the other woman’s arm. “Neither do I.”

Iann let Fane handle all the re-acquaintances with his Ward and the Oathbreaker. Iann in the meantime looked around, hoping their moving didn’t lose the servant who’d run off to get his mead.

Prelate Theodore raised his eyebrows for a moment, looking even more owlish than usual. “Then that was clumsy, on my part,” he said. “I’d only intended to relay information. Nevertheless, Lady Lacroy, the matter has, as you say, been taken in hand. And I see that you have others willing to come to your aid, such as this young knight here.” He acknowledged Octavia with another nod, but then went still, catching sight of a rather … decorative personage appearing on the other side of the Hall. “Enjoy the festivities.” With that, the Prelate stepped away from the two women, making a wide arc around the perimeter of the Hall in Freddie’s direction.

It took Tuah a moment to recognize them, but that was understandable. The last time they had seen one another, Tuah had been a freshly appointed knight of the Dawnguard and Danian had been a highly enthusiastic ten-year-old aspiring for the same role. Though, his hug was- slightly unexpected. They weren’t exactly used to getting embraced by other members of nobility in public. Nevertheless, they returned it before stepping back to look him over. Quickly, their grin gave way to a harmless scoff, and propping one hand on their hip, they responded. “I would kick you in the shin for that if your confidant didn’t look so ready kick me back.” Not that he was wrong. They had grown and their boots gave them another two inches or so, but even then, their shorter stature was apparent. “Tuah it is then,” they smiled.

Fane as they neared Fane raised a hand and lightly clapped Tuah on the back smiling at him and then Danian the smile growing fonder. “Long time no see strangers.”

“I appreciate the information then.” Faye nodded to the Prelate. “And you as well,” she said as the man moved off in the general direction of a new arrival.

Maya returned only long enough to get the mead and gather her wits. Once done she delivered large goblets to the Lords Cardero as well as anyone else who desired them without a word. It was speaking, generally, that got her in to trouble.

“Hello again,” the priestess said, coming up behind Maya as she had delivered her latest glasses of mead. “I thought you served the House Savin? Not the capitol?”

Fane was surprised when Maya arrived with a tray serving drinks and after taking one off the tray gave her a sidelong look. He’d been about to open his mouth and point out the same, that Maya need not serve the drinks to the other nobles and could partake herself in some of the festivity. She was one of his cohort on this journey after all. But opted to close his mouth and leave the two women be for now.

Octavia laid her hand over the woman’s on her arm for only a moment before bringing it up to her collar. “Protection over women is the one thing I have unwavering belief in.” She said making eye contact with Faye. She studied her face for a moment before moving her eyes around the room, finding her mistress across the way with the two others she left her with. “I serve my mistress alone. I am a knight, protecting her above all else. She allowed me a place to take comfort in knowing I belonged, and for that I am grateful.” Octavia said, looking back to Faye.

Iann noticed the Blackspire crest emblazoned on the servant girl’s dress rather than the Bluesprings. He saw Fane about to address her, but it seemed a Red Priestess of the Light caught the girl first. Iann stayed silent and listened to hear the girl’s response. More out of idle habit, than the expectation to glean anything interesting or useful.

Danian returned Fane’s smile when he approached, offering a slight nod of greeting. “Lord Savin. It has, hasn’t it? What- two years? Things are still well for you up further North, I hope.”

Faye frowned slightly, noticing the other woman’s repeated gesture towards her neck. But she didn’t say anything about it. “I admire that.” She followed Octavia’s eyes towards her mistress. “Belonging somewhere can be hard.” FAye knew from experience. “I"m glad you found your place.”

Ephram accepted the glass that Miguel handed him, their fingers pressing together briefly at the handoff. “I’m not one to back down from a challenge, Highness,” he said, taking a bigger drink of the highly-regarded mead blend than was entirely civilized. “And surely not if it’s something you’d find interesting. The Hall is serving last year’s premium mead tonight, but I’ve got a few different vintages of Honeywild mead in my rooms, in fact. If the feasting and festing doesn’t tire you out too much, maybe you’d like to venture back with me afterwards? Sample the products of my Holding?”

Maya nodded, “I do, but I’m hardly one to let you all languish for lack of mead.” She gave a brilliant if porcelain smile. It was safer, usually, for her to fade into the background as a servants.

Fane didn’t stand so much on ceremony here with Tuah and his ward. “Two years too long hm?” he gave them a more stern look before his smile returned and he opened his arms to embrace them warmly. “The North is as it always is, unforgiving and unchanging. Though far less warm without your presence there. I do wish you’d consider returning back North.”

“I dare say none of the lords or ladies will languish if you don’t serve them their fifth glass.” The Priestess noted the girl’s expression, unable to shake the feeling that she knew her. Or should. “But… doing one’s duty is sometimes the hardest thing we can ask of another person, isn’t it?”

It was interesting to see the servant girl deliver such a dazzling smile. The falseness, Iann understood; but smiling with such dazzle tended to draw attention, compared to the blank, neutral stares of the other servants around them. He sipped his mead, looking over Tuah’s shoulder as Fane and Lovel got reacquainted. He smiled over his cup, at the Red Priestess’ reply to the girl. Those Priestesses were notorious for their sense of single-minded purpose, as well as the heat between their thighs. Not that Iann had ever bedded one, but the stories were intriguing.

Tuah chuckled heartily, hands on Dani’s shoulders. It was odd for him to show such affectionate display, seeing that he usually wore an almost permanent frown on his face. But it was such a relief to see such a familiar face that for a moment he couldn’t help himself. “Do you think I need his help kicking your arse? He’s only here to stop me from doing anything too un-king-ly.” He patted Dani on the shoulder before letting his hands fall to the ground. He turned his attention towards Fane and Iann, his expression now more guarded as he greeted them both. “Lord Savin. Lord Cardero.” If Fane had approached him and Dani alone, he would’ve embraced the other as well, glad to see such familiar faces. But that wasn’t the case, so Tuah decided to keep his lips tight and forced himself to flash a polite smile instead.

Iann licked his back teeth, his smile like a fox. “How goes your High Peninsula, Lord Tuah?” he asked. “It’s been a while since I’ve visited.” The last time, Lord Alexander had been alive; and for Iann it hadn’t been a pleasant visit.

“You may not think so, but I fear they would disagree,” Maya replied. Her expression softened considerably. “It is not mine to ask if duty is a difficult, only to do it.”

Her Majesty, Freddie really shouldn’t have been there. He was neither high-born, nor invited - nor terribly interested in the current monarch (beyond finding the Raj rather appealing physically, and just familiar enough to wonder if they’d met before under rather more intimate and insalubrious conditions.) But still, all that aside, a party was a party; and Freddie had entertained more than enough of the men attending thisone, back in his bed at Mab’s, to make attending it rather good fun. Especially when he happened across some of his more perverse patrons, puffed up with pomp and circumstance, their lady-wives on their arms.

Miguel blushed, a physical reaction that was far from the usual labyrinth of words and lies - there was no way to trick his body into doing that for him. Lord Pettaline’s words caught him off guard. Miguel still didn’t know where Pettaline would sit in his plans, or if he would even be worth the trouble. But he was charming, in a way, without such lofty ideas or holdings to be frustrating. Miguel cleared his throat of mead. “Perhaps. I imagine the mead you bring with you must be the best vintage. Pray, correct me if I’m mistaken.” He watched Pettaline’s face, trying hard to imagine what kind of man he was when he wasn’t around the other nobles. That was what mattered if Miguel was going to follow him back to his rooms.

Prelate Theodore finally completed his circuitous route to the Blue Diamond Whore, hissing at the back of Freddie’s head, “What are you doing here? Surely you didn’t take the Raj’s invitation as literally as to believe that strumpets and harlots should also attend the celebration?” One hand shot out to vice Freddie’s elbow. “Get out. Or – bloody Nines below, never mind that, it’ll make more of a scene than anything else.” His grip tightened in conjunction with his lips drawing to a thin line across his face. “Stay put. Don’t make a spectacle of yourself.” Even as he said it, he knew it was a vain request.

The Red Priestess looked at Maya with an expression that said that what the girl had just said had struck a nerve. A good one. “No it is not. You may yet surprise us all. Maya of No Importance.”

Danian didn’t hesitate to accept Fane’s embrace, even squeezing him for a brief moment before they released him. They couldn’t deny the familial sense of their relationship or the fatherly role that he had filled, even if they refrained from speaking of it. “Well, I’ve been traveling quite a lot here and there over those two years, so you can’t blame me entirely. Believe me- there’s nothing that aches me more than being separated from the North. I have stopped back home a few times, but it’s not nearly enough.”

Octavia felt stuffy in her layered clothes. The leather bodice feeling tight around her waist and the collared black shirt making her feel constricted. She usually wore only a shortened smock and a long sleeveless leather tunic. Octavia took a sip of the wine she received moments ago. “Yes, thank you. I have hopes that others find somewhere that brings them comfort. Or where they find intimacy with loved ones.” Octavia swirled the wine around in her glass. “From where do you hail?” She asked Faye.

“Little Danian, how is my Buttercup? I hear he blossoms whenever he sees you. The boy has a head for two things: blacksmithery, and you. All his letters are full of those two worthwhile subjects.”

Faye had no loved ones anymore. And as for any… intimacy… well, it had been a long time. “The Wildwood Marsh. Not too far from your woodlands, I don’t think.”

“No, quite close actually. The marshes are very interesting. I have only travelled through there once, twas before I came across my mistresses castle.”

Her Majesty, Freddie Initially taken a bit by surprise when he felt a hand close around his arm, Freddie smiled when he realised who it was that had caught him, turning subtly to look the Prelate in the eye, his own gleaming wickedly. “I was a spectacle before I even walked in tonight, darling,” he murmured, as unconcerned with titles and protocol here as he was in his own room at the brothel, “-but do you reallythink my leaving would make more a scene than anything else?” Freddie leaned a bit closer, his voice low, but rich and throaty. “What if I were to get on my knees for you right here? Would that be better or worse?”

Maya shook her head, “I have no intention of surprising anyone. She gave a small polite smile, "If you’ll excuse me.” But then without waiting for an answer she turned away to deliver the rest of the wine and mead on her tray.

Fane typically was more reserved in his affection than this but he had no particular reason to refrain. Iann’s presence was hardly a hindrance in his opinion though he noted Tuah’s sudden tension. Though wasn’t entirely sure why. “You’ll have to tell me all about your ventures… You don’t write nearly enough with updates of your antics.”

Iann chose to look over at the Red Priestess then, and raise an eyebrow at her. His tone was mild and friendly as he spoke to her. “It is good mead, the girl is right about that.”

“Is that so?” Tuah raised his brows when Iann mentioned that he had visited the Peninsula. Perhaps it was during the time where Alexander had been in position of power, since he had never met the Cardero personally during his time overseeing the land. “I hope that your stay was fitting to one of your standing.”

Ephram socked back the rest of the precious Cipprian mead, giving away his rural holding rough manners with the lack of delicate savouring of the liquor. He scrubbed the back of his hand over his mouth and leaned in closer to Miguel, a tall tree in a wind bending over a stouter one. “I’ll be honest with you, Prince Miguel,” he said, voice dipping low and confidential, “they’re not, in fact, my best vintages. Not all of them, not by the standards of–” he waved his empty wineglass at their surroundings, “–all this finery. We Easterners tend to prefer mead that goes down a touch raw.” He straightened up again, a corner of his lip lifting briefly. “Not to everybody’s taste, especially those accustomed to gentler handling.”

The Red Priestess watched Maya leave, not following after her. Things would work out as they should. In time. She turned to the group standing nearby, seeing the prince looking her way. “I prefer wine, but yes. She is.” She came over, looking at the adornments on the man’s richly tailored clothing. “I don’t think we’ve met, your grace.”

“I am afraid it was not a fitting stay, no.” Iann’s statement to Tuah was firm, but gently spoken. He didn’t elaborate, but he did look at Tuah square in the eyes as he said it.

“They were beautiful in their nature, every creature there more beautiful than the next.” She said before taking the last sip of her wine. “How will this wine ever give me enough movement for dancing when it is so weak?” Octavia asked. “I’ll need another.” She said shaking her empty glass. “And you?” She asked motining to Fayes glass.

“Not many people chose that road for travel. Too afraid of the witch to take a shortcut. Another,” Faye said, feeling the heat of the place as well. “Please.”

Prelate Theodore’s lips were in danger of altogether disappearing. “Shut up,” he growled, stepping in closer so that he could hold Freddie locked in place, visions flooding his head of Her Majesty prowling through the assembled crowd doing his best to unsettle unfaithful nobles. “I’ve warned you before about this nonsense. You take entirely too many liberties – it’s going to get you noticed by the wrong people, if you keep on the way you are.”

Miguel’s face was still red. When Lord Pettaline leaned down to tease him, his stomach felt full of bubbles. At the word raw all of Miguel’s muscles tightened as one. He needed a breath of fresh air. “We will see where the night takes us.” He needed time to think about it, but time was a commodity he didn’t have. Logic kept him in line, even if every primal instinct in him desperately wanted to taste Lord Pettaline’s mead. “I should…” All of his mind was working on self control, there was nothing left to come up with an excuse to walk away from the Lord of the Honeywilds.

“And yet I see no wine in your hand, blessed or otherwise,” Iann said, since the clergy of any religion usually loved their blessed wine. “No, I don’t think we have, Priestess of the Light. Care to guess?” He had no doubt the Red Priestess was aware exactly who he was; if she were here, she was likely a High Priestess. And in the world of religious fervour, one would make it their duty to know who they mingled amongst. He smiled, because the Red Priestess had already been bested on the semantics of duty, by a servant girl no less.

“Your Highness,” Danian chuckled at Iann with a nod of greeting. “It’s been some time since I last saw him, but I imagine he’s no less the energetic child he was then. He’s a very passionate boy, you know? As long as he keeps himself dedicated to his interests, I believe he has a very bright future ahead of him. And of course–” they turned to look back at Fane, “there’s loads to tell. What’s the point of adventures if you leave them with no tales to tell?” There was a small gleam in their eye when they said that. No number of years or titles imposed could completely erase the lord’s penchant for trouble.

“I’m afraid of many things; but a witch wouldn’t be one of them.” She winked. Octavia decided to share her most kept secret with this woman- only because she herself had been a witch before as well. Octavia reached her hand out to Fayes, touching only her pinkie slightly before retracting. She sent a cool breeze up her arm, swirling around it such as a long bracelet would; starting from her wrist and ending at her shoulder. She motioned towards a table that held bottles upon bottles of mead and wine. “I could bring them here, but to avoid a ruckus we would be smart to take the few steps.” She said tilting her head towards the spirits table.

Fane grinned at Dani’s words, “well then, you’ll have to regale all of us with tales of your adventures then. No doubt you’ve been venturing across land and sea – the latter no doubt of interest to Iann here.” As he’d been speaking with them he’d been sipping his goblet and had gradually depleted its contents. He’d been about to take another sip when he realised that it was empty and sighed, “I’ll return in a little while I need more drink.” With a wave of his goblet he wandered over to the table of caskets to refill his cup in the meantime.

Iann sighed, his eyes closing for a moment as he thought of Buttercup. He hadn’t seen the boy in so long; he was likely not even a boy any longer. When he returned the White Lady to the North, Iann knew he needed to visit his eldest child at Blackspire as well. “Thank you for the news.” Iann trusted Danian’s word. “It’s a pity that we’ve never crossed waves during our travels, Danian. But then again, it is a big ocean.” Multiple oceans of course, but the singular just sounded better.

“Blessed wine is swill watered down by priests who think it will last longer that way. I prefer the real kind.” Her own glass had sadly disappeared somewhere, but she was certain she could find another. The Priestess looked him over, casually reaching out to feel the edges of his robes before humming thoughtfully to herself. She named off his House and title without mistake, dropping the fabric from between her fingers as she did. “How fares your House? Well, I should think?”

A bolt of triumph streaked through Ephram’s belly as he watched the princeling – more baby-featured than his brothers, maybe a little less able to dissemble because of it – struggle to come up with some way to gain himself a reprieve. Ephram didn’t mind granting him one, for a few hours. It would only give Miguel time to keep coming back to everything Ephram had hinted at, stoking his ship’s fires, until he sailed himself right back into Ephram’s harbour when he was too full of mead and desire to resist anymore. “You should, yes,” Lord Pettaline nodded. “I should too, really. We wouldn’t want it to seem like we were giving any of our peers a cold shoulder, would we?” He gave Miguel a wolfish smile. “But don’t stay away too long, Prince Miguel. I’m not partial to tapping my casks with only my own company.”

“I see,” Tuah held Iann’s gaze with his own, unswaying. “I would apologise on behalf of the previous Lord, but it would seem unending if I start doing so.” He straightened his back and moved his shoulder in an almost a shrug. “You’re more than welcome to visit again, though I’m sure you’re far too engaged with overseeing your own nation to even bother with a small land such as ours, hm.”

Her Majesty, Freddie loved it when the Prelate got stern; his disapproval so complete and all-encompassing that Freddie couldn’t help but want to provoke it. But when Theodore’s grip tightened - Freddie would have bruises tomorrow (not that that was anything new) - Her Majesty did as he’d been bidden and stayed put. Though he was far from cowed. “You noticed me straight away,” the whore teased, “Does that make you the 'wrong’ people?” His voice softened slightly, one eyebrow raising. “Or was that some genuine care, and concern for my safety, that you just expressed?”

“That might be foolish of you,” Faye smiled easily, though she meant no harm by it. She watched curiously as Octavia reached towards her, and when the other woman touched her finger to Faye’s, and she felt… gods above… Faye sucked in a breath, her hand closing of it’s own accord as the power rolled up her arm. Something flickered in the depths of Faye’s violet eyes, a flame long forgotten by memory, but not by what was bound in her blood. Magic. “How…” Faye shook her head, and the light started to fade from her eyes, leaving them a soft violet once more. She could only nod as Octavia indicated the drinks table, and moved towards it without further prompting.

Faye was so shocked, so in need of something very very strong to push away the feeling of something she’d never experienced, but remembered nonetheless, that she didn’t see the Lord Savin. And ran right into him. “Fuck…” She looked up, instantly ready to snap at someone. “Watch where- Oh. It’s you. I… apologize.” She reached for the wine and filled her glass.

Iann was distracted by someone deigning to touch him - someone who wasn’t his children or Princess Addeline. He realized it was the Red Priestess, and he was surprised when it seemed she identified him by the seam of his shirt between her fingers. Seemed, of course, being the operative word. He’d never met someone who used this tactic before. “Yes, you should think that, Priestess. The Forty Isles thrives. Have you ever visited our kingdom? I know we aren’t much for the Light, but you’d still be treated hospitably.” Well, that was only partially true depending on what island she visited. But Iann wouldn’t reveal the inner politics of his islands to an outsider. This was all part of the game, anyway.

Miguel nodded, feeling like a mouse staring down an owl. He needed to get his head back in place, he was at the castle to make alliances. Though, wasn’t that a way to make an alliance? He was able to pull himself away from Lord Pettaline to stand in a corner and sip his mead.

Iann looked over at Tuah, extraordinarily pleased that the minor Lord (albeit not so minor now) did what Iann expected him to do, and invited him to visit the High Peninsula. “I value your invitation more than I do your apologies, Lord. They are not necessary.” Did Tuah understand, what the Heir to the Forty Isles visiting the Oathbreaker’s holding would mean to the world watching? He genuinely hoped so. Iann only did it for the strategic geographical advantage, and a mild curiousity of this mysterious minor lord who bested Lord Alexander. “Anyone who served in Savin’s Dawnguard is someone I consider well worth a visit.”

“Would I be privy to hear these adventuring of yours?” Tuah turned his attention towards Dani, “It’s been a while since I was able to travel so freely.” He heaved a sigh and swirled the content of his drink, still full as he hadn’t taken a single sip.

Fane was just helping himself to a few of the richer casks when someone bumped into his back causing him to spill it all over his sleeve “oh for gods sake…” he cussed under his breath shaking out the sleeve of his jacket. He turned with a stern glower to look at whoever happened to be culpable for the act where he’d been about to snap in annoyance he opted to shut his mouth once more. “Oh,” he exhaled and turned his attention back to his sleeve “Lady Lacroy… No it’s fine.”

Danian nodded to Iann with a smile. “Of course. In fact- now that you’ve brought him up, I’m probably long overdue to pay him a visit as well, the way he used to follow me around. Between him and Fane, it sounds like I might be heading there as soon as our visit to the Capital is over.” As they began talking of oceans, Danian gradually began stepping in the direction of the Hall. They had been on the road for… long enough to need a proper drink or two. “Aye, it is. I’m not the best of seafarers though, I’m afraid. The lands across the seas are worth the journeys, but I would take a horse over a ship any day, if I could.” Looking over at Tuah’s request, they grinned. “Yes, of course. Why would I refuse?”

“You flatter yourself.” It was an insipid scold, as reprimands went; particularly because Theodore knew quite well that even though Freddie did enjoy flattering himself – it seemed a favourite pastime of his – those boasts were far outstripped in number by the praise heaped on him by Queen Mab’s clientele. He hadn’t been coronated 'Her Majesty’ for no reason. “I want this night to continue without any more unexpected dramatics, at least of the bloodletting sort. And I can’t ensure that if I need to also keep an eye out for you making trouble, blast it.”

Octavia watched as Faye’s eyes lit up. This had been one of her favorite things about magic- seeing the look on other peoples faces. “My mother was like me, as was her mother. I was supposed to be taught by her how to use what was handed down to me, but she died while in childbirth. Her mother said that her death strengthened me, causing me to take what was hers and double my own. I just don’t really use it, and I don’t know how for the most part, my Grandmother died before she could show me as well.” Octavia sighed, taking a few steps towards the table. She picked up what seemed to be mead, and my the smell of it, strong mead. “Would this be to your liking, M'lady?” She asked. “Oh, more for me, then.” She laughed as she watched Faye fill her glass. Octavia took a sip, nodding along to a melody the band played. “Do you think we shall say in this formal wear all night? I would assume something a little more casual might be fitting for a celebration meant for all peoples.” Octavia shifted from one foot to the other, studying the varying outfits of the crowd.

The Red Priestess thought nothing of touching the prince. There was no law but that of the Lord of Light, and that of the common laws of the land. She meant no offence besides. The cloth was fine and soft, and the priestess could appreciate beautiful things. She glanced up at the prince as he spoke. “I’m happy to hear that. And I have. But it’s been some time. As High Priestess, I’m more needed at the sept than abroad. Though it matters not if you accept the Light, your grace. Our lord will be just as hospitable as your islands, I’m certain.” Did that mean she knew of what went on in some places in the Isles? Not necessarily. But she had heard rumors.

“We had it. Once. A long time ago. But it faded with time. I… thank you for sharing it.” They moved on to the table, and Faye felt bad for snapping at the Inquisitor. “I’m sorry, m'lord. Can I … get you something for your sleeve?” Faye asked. She glanced back at the lady knight. “I certainly hope not. It’s stifling.” Though her gaze travelled in one particular direction, to the long frame of the Lord Savin as he shook his sleeve that was dripping with mead.

Fane noticed the woman from earlier still with Faye deciding there was little to be done to save his sleeve. “Ah that’s kind of you but no, don’t worry, don’t worry… clothes might be dampened but thankfully spirits are not…” his smile returned more gracious now as he noted Faye’s companion and turned a charming smile in her direction. “Aaah! Lady Lacroy’s knight in shining armour, hm? I can’t say I caught your name earlier… Lady?”

“Ah, well. I too have something I’d like to return to the North, and therefore I’ll be visiting Blackspire as well. Did you come by ship or horse, Danian?” Iann asked. “I’d be happy to take you there, if you need a quicker way than hooves on hard packed roads,” he said, teasing the young Lord gently. He turned to look at the Red Priestess, and swept a glass of wine of a tray for her as well. “So then why are you here? To convert the commonfolk and nobility alike?” he asked, amusing himself at the thought. “Or do you come bearing a message or a portent? I know you Priestesses are renowned for those, for better or for worse. Or perhaps your'e here to report the Cloverry’s fanfare back to your sept?” He used the word 'fanfare’ with a friendly sarcasm, considering how austere the Keep was.

“Spirits indeed…” She took a long drink of her wine.

“Of course.” She dipped her head slightly to Faye. Octavia turned to the gentleman that had been with Faye earlier. “I would hardly define myself as such, she rescued herself.” She said turning back to her. “My name is Octavia, though I would seldom call myself a lady as I has not been raised as one.” She smiled at the man. “You must be Lord Savin, lovely to meet your acquaintance.” She said before taking a gulp of her mead.

Her Majesty, Freddie pouted for a moment at the rebuke, then sighed as theatrically as he could, given the accusation of dramatics that had been levelled at him, rolling his eyes to the heavens. “Far be it from me to distract you from your more godly pursuits, Prelate,” he said, resting a hand over his heart, “I’ll be as good as gold from here on out.” Freddie grinned, knowing that Theodore enjoyed a bit of goss - even if he claimed otherwise. “Though I can see at least 6 customers from here - including the one I told you about. With the Scold’s Bridle.” Freddie glanced down at the Prelate’s hand still on his arm. “But tell me about 'any more’ dramatics, yeah? Have I missed the best bits of the evening? I mean, if you’re going to hold me, darling, either fuck me, regale me, or dance with me - otherwise I’ll have to find my own entertainment.”

“No. Nothing so atrocious. I bring the Unnamed Blade to the rightful ruler.” She took the wine with a nod and took a long sip. “The Cloverry are of no concern to us, your grace. They are their own entity, and they do much good. Or so it seems.”

Now Iann was torn between hearing Danian’s tales of adventure, and hearing more about the Unnamed Blade. He’d be seeing Danian again; this Red Priestess, he might never see again. “What is the Unnamed Blade, Priestess? ” And why did it need to be united with the High Raj?

“The blade for the one true ruler. The one from the prophecy.” The priestess said this as if it was no large concern other than getting the blade to where it needed to be. Though it was glaringly not on her person. “Said to be the blade that will usher in a new age of peace.”

Fane pointed an index finger at Octavia before ruminating “indeed, indeed she did.” The same hand and index finger then turned to point at Faye then his brow tipping a little, “fireberries no? Very impressive I must say.” As Octavia introduced herself Fane gave a small nod studying her attire curiously though mostly in search of a sigil to denote who she served, but finding no obvious evidence he ultimately had to ask. “And who is it that you serve? And please, how would you prefer for me to address you?” Though her assumption of who he was earned a small dip of his head, “that would be me, and likewise.” His attention travelled to Faye then “I meant to come and ask at an earlier point in time but my kinsmen kept me busy…” his brow furrowed a little in apparent concern, “how fair you after earlier?”

Tuah internally sighed at Iann’s reply. He should’ve known that Iann wouldn’t say no to such invitation, perhaps even eagerly wait for Tuah to extend the invitation to him himself due to the strategic placing of his small nation. So much to hope that the Lord would decline. Still, Tuah tried his best to keep the polite smile on his face. Despite his personal bias towards other nobilities, it wouldn’t hurt to let themselves be allied with other Houses. He simply needed to find the right one to ally himself with so the past would not repeat itself. “I look forward to your visit, then,” he replied, “and perhaps, if fate’s willing, I’d be able to visit your land.” His smile was more genuine when he turned his attention towards Dani. But before he could reply he was quite distracted by the words of the Red Priestess, he believed what she was called, curiosity piqued his interest.

Faye smiled at Octavia as she spoke to Lord Savin of earlier. “Fireberries,” she nodded as he addressed her, draining her glass as he turned again to speak to Octavia. “Other than a bit of wounded pride and a new scar, I’m fine, m'lord. Thank you.”

“I serve Bellamy, Queen of the Dead Woods. I am her central protector.” Octavia said, finding Bella in the crowd across the great hall. “Just Octavia will do, if you may.” She said tipping her head back to him.

Prelate Theodore briefly and very vividly considered throwing Freddie across the mead table, unbelting his clerical habit, and strapping the saucy wretch within an inch of his reprobate life. The major flaw in that plan was that Freddie would enjoy it far too much. As a matter of fact, the Prelate would also enjoy it to an unseemly degree, and it was in an abrupt attempt to stave off that thought that Theodore adjusted his grip on Freddie to turn them facing each other, stepping smartly forward in the opening move of a traditional findlay dance – his ire only increasing as Freddie immediately, seamlessly, fell in elegant step with him. “The Grand Lady of Summerset was nearly kidnapped earlier,” Teddy told him as they moved in wide swirls across the Grand Hall floor. “And the Witch of the Wilds was attacked by House Kesley. Both attempts foiled, but all the same. It has me on edge.”

“Came by horse, from home. Not the shortest or easiest ride, but it can be a bit of fun if you know where to break,” they grinned at Iann. “I appreciate the offer, but there are a few things back at Wolfhaven I’ll have to settle after my visit here and it’s far more convenient then if I ride up from one Northern keep to another.” After fetching themself cup of mead, Danian indulged in a sip before tilting their head at Iann. “Do you journey much on horseback yourself, Iann?” Then they came to realize that everyone was having their attention drawn to the Red Priestess in the room. Sighing, they took another drink from their cup, this one longer than the last. It was good, but it wasn’t the ale they were used to.

Cassie was late. Which was just a smidgen of an understatement, but the good thing she knew was everyone in the Kingdom would party all night long if they liked, so she couldn’t have missed too much. Cassie finally reached the Keep successfully climbing the stairs and promptly finding a spare cup of mead to carry around with her as she circled the room. She saw many faces she knew and a few she did not. She took a deep breath, knowing her kidnap attempt would probably be brought up in conversation. It had bothered her a tad more than she’d let on earlier in the day, but so was the course of a royal life.

“Sounds fascinating,” Iann said to the Priestess; but it actually did not, unfortunately. He’d hoped to enjoy some fervour and passion from the Red Priestess regarding her Unnamed Sword. “And where, may I ask, are you keeping this sword you intend for the High Raj?” he laughed, glancing at Danian with a mischievous look. “There are many ways to give someone a sword, after all. And many types of…things…that one might refer to, as a sword.”

Her Majesty, Freddie smirked, having seen the little flare of angry lust in the holy man’s eyes, and carried on dancing gracefully, never missing a step or a beat as he asked, “Summerset, hm? Which one is she again?” He pretended at ignorance simply to provoke, punishment being a pastime they both enjoyed from mutually beneficial ends. “And I’m afraid you’ll have to refresh me about House Kelsey’s quarrel too, love.” Freddie’s smirk deepened. “You know I have a much harder time remembering Bluesprings’ ladies, than its gentlemen.”

Fane found himself smiling at Faye’s mention of fireberries shaking his head in amusement. “Truly inspired, I’ve heard of the idea of powdering them but always was led to believe they still remained too viscous to be turned into a fine enough powder.” Though at Octavia’s mention of who she served Fane perked up. “She’s here?” he asked curiously his eyes travelling around the room in search of anyone that might be fitting of such a title but not immediately coming upon her. “I’ve heard tales of your Queen.” Questionable ones he would admit but no less interesting. He found such figures intriguing. “Very well Octavia it is then.”

The Red Priestess raised and eyebrow over the rim of her goblet. “If you mean cock, then I’m quite familiar, your grace. As for the sword, it will come when it’s needed. Unlike so many men I’ve known.”

Iann laughed then, loud but hardly abrasive. “It’s a pity you have to give it away then, I would have loved to see you wield it,” he said. He always had a pleasant and mild tone to his voice, but at the moment his words were less about the game, and more genuine. The Red Priestesses were also known for their crassness. But as a sailor, he’d grown to appreciate such low humour. He raised his cup, looking from the Priestess to Danian, and even to Tuah who looked like he wanted to sink into the marble beneath them and die. “To the Unnamed Sword, may our High Raj use it often, and well.”

“Oh, I didn’t say it was for the Raj, now did I?” the priestess smiled over her cup. “I said the one true ruler.”

“Yes, she is here- in all her glory. Some of these tales are quite exaggerated, but many are true; if not an understatement for the power she wields.” Octavia said looking at Lord Savin. Many gawked at the queen, but she would rather have that instead of someone trying to take advantage of her.

Overhearing the conversation between her brother in law and the mysterious woman, Cassandra let out a slight snort and raised her goblet in agreement only briefly making eye contact with the group.

“Not if you know what you’re doing,” Faye told Lord Savin. “Don’t inhale them. Or you’re fucked.”

Prelate Theodore said acidly, “Since I’m hardly telling you these things for your analysis – seeing as the most you’d be able to offer me is information as to the girth of the cocks of any men even peripherally involved and what faces they make when they come – it isn’t as though you need details.” Theodore was grim, disapproving silence for a few turns across the floor, and then he said, “The auburn-haired sister-by-marriage to the Forty Isles is Lady Cassandra of Summerset. House Kesley,” he emphasized the unusual family name, “bears no love for witches, particularly those who factor large in popular mythos. I doubt they would make a repeat attack on Lacroy, however. At least not for some time, at which point she will not be my problem.”

Danian hadn’t entirely been listening to the words of the Priestess, so when Iann glanced down at them to deliver his witty comment, they nearly choked on their drink. After coughing a second to recover, their look back up at him bore the slightest glare- though they also had to respect the cleverness of his statement. “Well- you’re not wrong.” Luckily the group’s focus had stayed fixed on the woman and not their reaction, so they were content to join in on Iann’s toast. But this woman… she did seem to enjoy a bit of correction. Danian sighed and turned to look elsewhere around the room, spotting the woman who had joined in the raising of their goblets, but she had turned away, and they didn’t want to approach her, wary from her position that she might not be interested in interacted with any of the band Iann had brought together.

The Red Priestess glanced over at the Lady Cassandra, wondering if perhaps it would be her that could pull the sword from it’s casing. She doubted it. But only because she was already of great importance. Though the priestess had no say.

“I would hate for that to be the case, I’m glad I took a step back to avoid your line of fire.” Octavia said raising a brow at Faye. By this point she had been a glass of wine, and a glass of mead in yet the warmth that came from the alcohol hadn’t affected her. She felt warm in the layers, so she flagged down a servant. When they walked over she slipped off her cloak, handing it to them. She unbuttoned the shirt she wore under her leather bodice and slipped it off, attempting to be ride of it without pulling any of her long hairs. The neck piece she wore still in tact. “Now, that’s better, if I do say so.” She dismissed the servant, asking her take her belongings to her room in the castle.

Fane listened to Octavia describe her queen as any devotee would. All her glory. How many times had he heard people say that about their leaders? But he was no less curious about this Deadwoods Queen. “So she does wield blood magick?” Fane had long since believed fables to be just that, these lands had not seen the influence of such things in an age. Though it was the role of the Guard to keep such things in check… To know that there was a potential risk in the city, while it didn’t alter his outward expression he kept a mental note. Though soon enough the woman was occupying herself with stripping off her layers and Fane found himself sipping his drink. “I should hope not…” he raised both brows at Faye’s statement “well, at least in the negative connotation that phrase happens to hold.” He raised his goblet to her with a grin and took another sip of the rich contents.

“You shouldn’t be so dismissive of the size of men’s cocks and the faces of their pleasure,” Freddie said, smiling a bit inscrutably, “Wars have been fought for less.” When Theodore pointed out Lady Cassandra though, Freddie turned his attention dutifully in her direction for a moment, as though glancing upon her for the first time - he liked the Prelate to never be entirely sure if he was clever or not; a bubble-headed bauble or something with a bit more bite - then took his correction regarding House Kesley with an appropriately abashed inclination of his head. Though his eyes continued to smile. “And why is she your problem now, Prelate? Have you been sharing your excesses with witches as well as whores?”

Faye nodded. “The further away you are, the less the effects. Though if sprinkle a bit in someone’s drink…” She took a long swallow of her own.

“Godspeed then, Priestess.” He gave Danian a wink and squeezed Cassandra’s hand, before he headed off.

“I do not speak on behalf of my mistresses affairs, but I do assure you she is only here to celebrate with the others gathered here tonight. Look at these festivities.” Octavia said raising her glass.

“And yourself, your grace,” the priestess called after him.

Prelate Theodore actually gave a sniff of wry amusement at the prospect. “I’ve yet to meet any women arriving for the coronation who see the church as anything other than a pernicious tool of corruption or at best, misguided when compared to their own belief systems. So no, Insolence–” his sibilants sharp on what passed for a pet name, “–there’s been no dalliance of the sort with the witch. I’ve set a few of the Emerald Hand to watching her.” Theodore gave a parched laugh. “I even let her know I’d done it, so that she’d realize her actions are being monitored, but the subtleties of that seemed to escape her. I don’t know why I expect anything diverting when it comes to these self-important provincials, Freddie. Each of them the lone remaining member of their House, each bearing it with noble pained dignity.” He paused at the wine table, procuring another goblet of his favoured resinous green vintage. “Can you appreciate the place in which I find myself? Terribly weary of stoic suffering?” He lifted the goblet to his lips. “Me!”

Fane raised a brow at Octavia’s answer. Not a confirmation but also not a dismissal either. Interesting how you could read into what a person chose to say and not say. “Oh no doubt, no doubt… We’re all here to celebrate after all are we not?” He looked aside to Faye then dark eyes sparking curiously, “but on the topic it does have me interested… What is your opinion of magick? Considering the reputation that goes ahead of you… No doubt you have some opinions on it.”

“My family had magick once. But our ancestor squandered it. So it gradually dried up.” Faye shrugged. Other than the bit she’d just felt from Octavia, Faye had never felt real magic.

As Iann departed, Danian didn’t miss his brief interaction with the woman who had glanced at their group before. Taking it as a sign that they were free to approach, the Northern lord stepped toward her and offered a small smile of greeting. “Hello. I don’t believe we’ve met. Lord Danian Lovel of Wolfhaven.” They gave the lady a short bow. “I do hope I’m not a bother, but I couldn’t help noticing Prince Iann’s stopping by you just now. I take it the two of you are acquainted?”

“Of course I have an opinion on it.” Octavia said raising her eyebrow. “Who doesn’t?” She reached for a bottle of wine, emptying the remaining contents of it into her glass. “I think magick can be light, wonderful, powerful in the most peaceful of ways; but it can also be dark, dangerous. I think it depends on who’s wielding it.” She said looking back at Lord Savin.

Her conversation with the other small group waning, the priestess made her way towards the wine table. “Stoic suffering?” she said wryly as she came up beside the Prelate of the Cloverry. “Don’t tell me the Cloverry is falling down on their job? I quite admire their work,” she said genuinely.

“That’s a selfish thing for them to do.” She said with a shake of her head. “If this is the reality, then why the hateful vengeance towards you? Is it all just in rumor?” Octavia  asked Faye.

 “I’m no harpy, if that’s what you mean. And I don’t steal men away to father my monstrous daughters. I have no daughters. I haven’t seen a man in… ages.”

Cassie saw them coming over, and pulled the cup away from her lips when they spoke. She smiled gently and nodded. She had not met Lord Danian properly before. “It’s a pleasure, no bother. I know the Forty Isles heir quite well actually.” She couldn’t help but laugh, “We’re related by marriage. I’m Cassandra of Summerset…” Her gaze shifted around the room a moment, “No doubt, I’ve made a sliver of conversation tonight.” At the very least, Cassie could have sworn she heard the Prelate mutter her name. Her brow suddenly furrowed back at Danian, “You’re affiliated with Blackspire estate aren’t you?”

Fane tipped his goblet to the room, “people who don’t believe in it?” Fane offered up in answer to Octavia’s question considering the populus tended to view magick as being extraordinary. Far from commonplace and not well understood therefore a fearful thing. “Ah the eternal debate of good versus evil and innate power and how it’s wielded…” Far too heavy a topic so Fane opted to pick up the vase of wine and top of Faye’s drink considering the contents of her cup was waning “well… there’s plenty here for the picking.”

Gods but she sounded like some simpering waif lamenting her existence. Faye was lonely, yes. But it was simply how it was. Coming here had done nothing but set her out as a target, no matter what Lord Savin, or the Prelate, or Octavia even, wanted to say about it. She knew when she was being watched. But other than the reputation that followed her and the hatred some families had for witches, what did it matter? She only came because she’d been invited. “And they hate me because they can. It’s easy.”

Prelate Theodore looked at Freddie, then turned to the Red Priestess. “Unusual for a priestess of the Lord of Light to outright offer compliments for the promulgation of another faith,” he remarked. “At least, it’s unusual in my experience. Our tenets of penitence are rather at odds with your beliefs, aren’t they? Or am I behind in the latest developments? An entirely likely scenario.”

“Well, whoever is trying to bring you down is already below you.” Octavia said to Faye. “You should not worry about the people who are against you, not while you’re here at least. You are amongst friends, let the foes wallow in their pity.” She brought her glass up to her lips to take a sip. “Plenty here for the picking?” She asked Lord Savin. “Just of drink or has anyone caught your eye?” Octavia motioned around the room with her glass and smiled at him.

Her Majesty, Freddie smiled, almost to himself, at the endearment - because that’s what it was, from a man like Theodore - pleased to be set apart and given a name that would only ever cross the Prelate’s lips, then nodded his head in understanding, as they moved from the floor, their dancing done. “And what is the Wild Witch brewing that you feel needs the Emerald Hand’s attention, love? Is she a threat, or simply a nuisance?” The Blue Diamond Whore chuckled. “In either case, you might have done better to let the assassins take her.” Watching Theodore drink, that elegant throat reminding him of the last time he’d tasted it, Freddie took a goblet for himself, sipping it, and then subtly slipping a hand up the Prelate’s voluminous sleeve to drag an enticing finger over the slender man’s pulse point - there and gone in a flash. “I can sympathise though,” he said with a faintly wry little grin, “-there really is nothing more tedious that the company of those bearing up admirably under the strain of their own honour and fortitude.” He smirked again. “Though, half of those are quietly ready to cut a man’s throat for an extra half-acre of land, so even in their tedium, you can’t afford a moment’s distraction.”

Danian When Cassandra spoke her name, a spark of realization flashed in the young lord’s eyes. “Ah, Your Majesty. It’s lovely to finally meet you.” They couldn’t help glancing around the room as she did before turning their head back to her. At the mention of Blackspire, they smiled. “Yes, I am. I was Lord Savin’s ward there for much of my life. Iann’s eldest and I became quite close,” a quiet chuckle came from them at the thought. “He had a tendency of following me around throughout the day. Very enthusiastic young man- and passionate too. He’s got a bright future ahead of him.” They paused to take a sip of their mead. “I met Iann during one of his visits- and apparently I have been featured in his son’s correspondence as well. By now, I imagine he knows more of me than I know of him.”

“I have no worries that my faith will lose it’s followers simply because I have the ability to see things from a different perspective than most of my sisters.” The Priestess sipped from her glass. “Anyone who seeks to ease the suffering of others shares our most basic beliefs. We are the same in that at least. Why should we not rejoice? ”

Faye could only nod, as she was trying her best to drink away the shaking feeling the touch of magic had given her. Among other things. She had… liked it. And it would be dangerous to think too hard on it. “I don’t worry about them. Only the foolish would dare attack me a second time. I won’t be so kind.” She nodded at Lord Savin as he refilled her cup for her. “Good and evil are all made up by men.”

Fane wasn’t quite so sure he agreed with Octavia’s statements about those individuals being below Lady Lacroy. Recent events he was aware of - namely the attempted kidnapping of the Grand Lady of Summerset and also an attempt on the life of Lady Lacroy? Two events so close to the coronation yet also seemingly unrelated but also equally able to drum up discontent amongst different levels of the Kingdom. One for the nobles, another to raise the ire and suspicion of the common-folk… But also potentially a distraction from something more? Fane rubbed his chin lost in thought as he stood there. Though Octavia’s question, caused him to laugh quietly, “caught my eye? An amusing notion but… No. Not particularly. I leave indulging in such… mm… interests to other lordlings.”

Prelate Theodore directed his attention to the Red Priestess more pointedly; his body language made it very clear that he was no longer going to carry on any interaction with Freddie, that there had never been any reason for him to do so apart from a single polite dance at what was, after all, supposed to be a festival enjoyed by even the most base of commoners. The spot where Freddie had run his finger against Teddy’s wrist felt silvery hot-cold, and the Prelate couldn’t ignore the lingering phantom of that intimate touch – but he could ignore Freddie himself. Treat the man like the whore he was. Remind them both that certain boundaries could only be stretched, not crossed.

Cassie smiled, “I thought so. I know your guardian, business mostly but-“ She squinted, “I imagine I might have seen you in passing from time to time.” Cassandra laughed at the mention of one of Iann’s children, “He must inhabit some of his mother’s tendencies then.” For all his familial support towards Cassandra and her daughter, it didn’t ebb his more infuriating moments. “Lord Iann always makes it his business to know everyone’s business.” She rolled her eyes for emphasis but added wisely, “Just make sure not to give too much of yourself away.”

Prelate Theodore So Theodore spoke only to the Priestess, blocking out all else but theology. “Perhaps what is as yet a singular viewpoint of your own will in time be shared by the rest of your sisters, praise unto the Whole.”

“Praise, indeed. Though as High Priestess, my influence is… far reaching. At least within my own septs.” She watched the Prelate as they spoke, sensing the aura of his faith that he carried like a banner about his person. “I can see why you were chosen as Prelate. An open mind is a rare thing these days.”

Her Majesty, Freddie’s dismissal was sudden and complete - but by no means out of character for the Prelate - and the whore couldn’t help but chuckle to himself as Theodore turned his back, thinking, 'Right then, time to make my own fun…’, drifting off into the crowd, and heading in the direction of a small knot of men talking quietly in a corner - one of whom he’d seen only last night, who’d come to Queen Mab’s with a large courgette and a riding crop. Freddie didn’t intend to stop, but a picture really was worth a thousand words sometimes.

Faye frowned slightly as the Lord Savin said he had no interest in anything or anyone in the room. That he didn’t partake of those pastimes. Not that her mind had wandered there at all during the course of the evening. He was handsome, yes. And he had been kind to her. But such was his duty. Faye didn’t expect anything less. Or more. Certainly not more. But she overcome with a sudden wave of needing some air. “If you’ll excuse me…” Faye said. “We’ll speak later,” she said to Octavia. “Thank you again for earlier.” She glanced at the Inquisitor. “M'lord.” And moved off to find a dark corner to get quietly drunk.

“Well, I’m sure the other lordlings will have a wonderful time with that tonight.” She laughed. The people in the room had sunken into the drinks haziness. She could count more than three couples attempting to hide in the shadows. “Of course.” She replied to Faye. “Maybe I’ll make my rounds. Cheers to you, Lord Savin, Lady Lacroy.” She said, bowing to them. Octavia walked across the room to where a large table with a pile of food sat. She picked off a grape from a vine and popped it into her mouth.

“As long as you were visiting the North prior to the past two years, it’s fairly likely. Though, I tended to prefer the outdoors.” At the mention of Iann and his business, Danian sighed with another slight chuckle. “So it would seem. Unfortunately for him, aside from my travels, I doubt I’m all that interesting. From what I’ve experienced, Southerners like yourself live far more exciting lives than those of us in the North. We have to survive the weather before we do anything else. Still,” a nostalgic feeling turned up the very edge of their lip, a touch of sadness lingering there for the briefest moment, “our home is in our blood. It’s where we belong. Everywhere else I’ve been- I’ve never felt entirely myself.”

Fane had been left alone after Faye had made her excuse in need of air and Octavia in favour of doing rounds. He didn’t mind particularly and opted to take the time to pull off his jacket, the sleeve was ruined and would need a thorough wash out to try and save it from the wine that had been spilt on it. A shame, but ultimately a fixable issue. Waving over one of his servants he requested it be taken back to his room leaving him to roll up his sleeves to his elbows so they were now more out of the way.

Faye sat in silence, watching the room and the unfamiliar faces (besides Miguel and Lord Savin) chatting quietly. Others were more raucous, and Faye found a small bit of amusement in watching them. And the music. Gods it had been so long since she’d heard music… some time later and she was well into her cups, cloak put aside and hair falling a bit out of her braids.

Fane had by now had several more cups of wine. Enough to loosen the edge of his more severe nature and loosen his more uptight demeanour into something more pleasant. While he’d done several rounds of chatting here and there ultimately spied a familiar blonde now saw on the edge of the room. “Now… what’re you doin’ o'er ‘ere, hm?” his accent was thicker when he spoke goblet hanging loosely from his fingers as he stood in front of Lady Lacroy.

Faye looked up as a tall shadow fell over her table. She looked up with slightly bleary eyes to see the… the figures of Lord Savin. But she was in no mood to talk. “Getting drunk. Now go away.” She turned back the mug of whatever alcohol she was drinking currently.

Fane cocked his head at the abrupt answer, “can’t get drunk alone, s'no fun.” Promptly he swung one leg over the bench and sat lazily straddling it as he deposited the jug and his drink on it. “Quite the party o'er here,” he wiggled his finger indicating the general vicinity.

“Yet I’ve somehow managed it without you. Will wonders never cease.” She tried to glare at him as he sat - uninvited - down next to her, but she couldn’t decide which one of him to focus on. “A party of one. Now go away.”

Fane chortled at her attempt to glare at him over the table. “You’re funny, hm, yes, very funny” he raised his drink in a slight salute before taking a gulp. “Aah but no!” he laughed exclaiming a touch too loudly leaning forwards on his forearm and pointing at her. “Not one. Because… Now I’m here. So…. it’s now a party of… of two.” To embolden this particular statement of very, serious logical fact the Inquisitor held up three fingers.

Faye was not amused as he sat down very close inside her personal space. She leaned back slightly as he pointed at her, and nearly swatted at his hand. Except he held it up, along with three fingers. Faye’s eyes narrowed, and she looked between him and his…more than two fingers. “Can you /be/ an imbecile and really be the Inquisitor?”

Fane frowned as she narrowed her eyes looking at her and then his hand and back at her still very serious before a fourth finger flicked up to join the prior three. “Two… Twos, two split makes… two.”

“Four. It makes four.” She reached for her drink. “Do you really not have any skills at all? Or does the Guard just run on luck and watered down ale? Because this…” She held up two fingers. “Is two. And this.” She put one down. “Is you leaving.”

Fane shook his head forlornly. “No no no, see…” he kept his hands up as they were his index and middle fingers pressed together tightly as they were presently in the air on either hand “this is two but–” he tilted his head before splitting his fingers apart “this is four.”

Faye merely shook her head. “Well, you wouldn’t be the first man to think he’s more talented with his fingers than he actually is…”

Fane knew his brows had gone towards his hairline, a flush rising in his features and it was debatable if he was on the border between embarrassment or anger. That is until he snorted ungracefully and started to laugh jovially, “I see what you did there… Fingers and… hmph… Smart… You… are very smart.”

Faye knew he was drunk. But so was she. Normally she wouldn’t have dared speak so frankly, and she certainly didn’t /really/ think he was unintelligent. It was just… being here was a lot. Talking to so many people in one day had drained her. So what finally made her laugh was the way he started to flush. And the fact that the one thing he seemed to understand was her… innuendo. She snorted her own laugh. “Does that mean I’m mistaken and you do know how to use them?”

Fane waggled his brows and picked up his goblet tilting it a little at her almost spilling some but pulling it back just in time to take a sip. “That… now, that… Would be telling.”

Faye watched the wine nearly slop over the sides of his cup, but didn’t move away this time. She was afraid the room might spin out from under her if she moved too quickly. “Means no then?” She raised her own eyebrows at him. “I wonder if that pretty knight is still around… she probably knows a thing or two…”

Fane snorted again and made a face as he levelled her with a look across the table “why so… curious?” he questioned changing tact, “curious t'find out?”

Faye looked at him evenly, feeling overly warm in the heat of the party. “Maybe I’m tired of being lonely for once.”

Fane opened his mouth and closed it then before opening it once more and closing it again. He looked at her for a long time, though his brow furrowed deeply. “Being lonely’s a choice… You don’t… have to choose it.”

Faye returned the look, her eyes flickering slightly with something she didnt’ speak out loud. They were sitting close enough that she eventually reached out and toyed with the ends of the laces on his shirt. “And I choose not to be…” she said eventually.

Fane rarely indulged as he had tonight, typically having far more restraint than he was presently showing. But then again he was so damn tired, eight years since his wife had passed and he’d kept his own council. He served and performed his duties day in and day out without question. So what if he wanted something for himself for once? Though feeling eyes on him caused him to turn his head a fraction to the group standing nearby eyeing them with a stonier look. Though the play of Faye’s fingers drew his attention back to her before he said quietly under his breath so that she might hear but the others would not. “Go… Give me… a little time then… I’ll… walk you to your chambers.” He would take a different exit and walk around.

Faye looked at him evenly still. It had been years for her as well, since she’d shared her bed with anyone. Never marrying, but occasionally finding company in those that passed her way. It was very lonely, and Faye had chosen it. Because she was afraid. But this man had been exceedingly nice to her. When he didn’t have to be. She’d tried to get him to leave her alone, but he didn’t leave. And Faye knew that didn’t mean they would fall in love and get married or any of that, but for once she really would like to not be alone. Which is why she only frowned slightly as he told her to go first. A small nod was all she gave him as she collected her cloak and made her way out into the street, passing slowly beneath the torches as she waited on him to join her. Though a part of her thought he wouldn’t.

Fane lingered in the hall, making a point to finish off his drink and press the heel of his palm to his eyes exhaling shortly. Hawks, the lot of them, hovering for the smallest morsel of gossip to shred apart and this was his reputation they were wanting to grate. He made a point once he rose to stop and chat to several Lords and several minutes later circled slowly around to the staircases.

Faye waited, walking slowly along the walk as if she were looking out over the city below. But the longer she was there, the more she realized that this might be a trick. A few more minutes passed, and she realized that more than likely it was a trick. That him sending her out before him was nothing more than an excuse to give her the slip. And after she’d thought that he just might be genuine. But that was foolish of her. Why would a man like him want to be seen going back to the chambers of someone like her? He wouldn’t.

Fane glanced around, that is until he caught sight of his companion for the evening pacing on one of the walks. “Why are you pacing?” but lingering wasn’t a clever idea, explaining why Fane politely proffered her his arm. “Come…” who knew how many eyes were on them even in these empty halls.

When his voice came through the still night air, Faye startled slightly. But she was too surprised to do much else besides take the proffered arm and walk along beside him. “It’s kind of you to… walk me home, m'lord. It’s a dangerous place these days. For a lady… all alone.”

Fane dipped his head a fraction in response to her thanks. “The least I could do…” his eyes however scanned the walls cautiously. They walked in otherwise companionable silence back through the castle towards their destination.

[blueincandescence]

The problem with Godless is Godless...not us.

Rebuttal to this post. I tried to avoid spoilers but, tbh, spoilers ahead.

So, here’s the thing. There’s no such thing as “clickbait” advertising. Advertising is there to bait you. When a show is mis-advertised it’s never the audience’s fault. Maybe the marketing team misrepresented the wishes of the production team, sure, but that’s not our problem. That’s Netflix’s problem. Consumers have a right to be disappointed in false advertising.

Now. I’ll agree that in Godless there exists some good acting, some nice production, and, yes, beautiful cinematography. But any Western worth its leather has that. I’ve watched a lot of Westerns. I’ve enjoyed a lot of Westerns, as problematic as the genre is. So what does the show offer that isn’t a cookie-cutter rip-off of better Westerns before it?

The villain (white man) is faux-intellectual (“I’ve seen my death” is supposed to be cool and ominous but it leads to the most obvious punchline). The themes of criminal families and violent hardships and the Godforsaken Wild West are, at best, classic and, at worst, old hat.

The protagonist (white man) is a drifter because the protagonist is always a drifter. Sure you can scrape together some excuses for why Roy chooses to do what he chooses to do at the end, but the real reason he does it is that he’s a cipher — the Western genre hero always makes that choice. 

The secondary protagonist (white man) is trying to be the hero he once was. He shows up, says, “I’m not blind yet,” and proceeds to not face hardly as many of the physical hardships he once did because he believes in himself.

The tertiary protagonist (white man) is coming of age at a time when it’s hard to live up to the Cowboy Ideal. He loves a girl he’s seen three times enough to almost kill her father. He’s all the cliches of Follies of Youth in one smelly form. 

What drew me to Godless wasn’t the narrative they give us. It was the promise of something subversive that ultimately didn’t live up to the hype.

Truckee and Roy’s relationship is a highlight because it is a deconstruction of the trope of the grizzled father figure indoctrinating the young innocent boy into the perils of the West. That, in turn, made Roy’s relationship with Frank more interesting. But since Roy chooses to be a cipher in the end it wasn’t for much. At the same time, in order to bring some element of interest to Roy’s story, we have to watch a biracial boy be taught “how to be an Indian” by a white dude. Cool story, bro.

Alice looks great shooting a gun and we know she’s got grit. Her relationship with Roy is interesting because it is the inverse of the usual trope — Roy softens her not the other way around. It’s lovely! Roy is so gentle and competent and respectful! But their romance means nothing because the men literally have a conversation about who she belongs to and, in the end, she goes with their choice. Like? What? The story doesn’t develop Bill and Alice beyond “he saved me from my inevitable past of traumatic rape and we looked longingly at each other a couple of times.” It’s an afterthought. Alice goes from woman of agency to reward. Cool story, bro.

What scenes we do get of a town full of ladies doing it for themselves are all highlights because we don’t often see that. It was pure joy seeing Mary Agnes fight for her town and fall in love. But now what? What happens to the mine? We’re robbed of the narrative resolution of them coming together to say that this is their mine and they’ll damn well run it together. Instead, we got a funeral and the arrival of a preacher, symbolizing that order has finally come to this godless (but once free and independent) town? Cool story, bro.

The inclusion of Blackton highlights the accomplishments of the Buffalo Soldiers. The budding interracial romance is cute and the narrative doesn’t shy away from the complications. White characters acknowledge how the mine dicked over the people of Blackton. But, good God, was the whole subplot a “don’t trust [W]hitey joke?” We’re set up for the Buffalo soldiers to be the baddest of the bad and all we get is a couple of shots and then the whole damn town is massacred. We learn nothing new from the carnage. Frank already massacred a town, we get it. Blackton was already dicked over by white folks, we get it. Belle was already an underdog fight, we get it. All I can say is thank God the romantic subplot got resolved the way it did or it would have been even more outrageous. Instead of Blackton being full of characters with different perspectives, it’s used as a means of propping up [w]hitey’s heroic arc. Cool story, bro.

Honestly, I could go on and on. As I said in my original review, I don’t regret the seven flu-ridden hours I spent on this show. 

But I do resent the false advertising. 

I do resent the mediocre main storyline. 

I do resent the show for presenting interesting white women, women of color, and men of color who have the incredible potential to tell stories we aren’t used to seeing — and then cutting their narrative agency off at the knees to service the oldest, most cliched white men’s stories in the book.

That doesn’t mean you can’t still like it. I did like parts of it, even parts about Roy or Whitey or Bill and elements of Frank. 

But there is absolutely no need to pretend that we’re all over here mad because we were dumb enough to believe the advertising and can’t look past that to see it for its brilliance. Not the case. I’m done giving Westerns a pass. I want to see some new shit.