#m!a: younger!joan

[j-the-latter-gay-saint]

Rating artistic depictions of Captain Moroni by how hot he is

Captain Moroni Raises the Title of Liberty, Arnold Friberg

A classic! Not bad looking, but there is a certain something about him that makes me want to know his whereabouts on January 6, 2021. 5/10

For the Blessings of Liberty, Scott M. Snow

Strangely enchanting, glaringly caucasian as he is. Somehow I am put in mind of sapphic lady knights like Joan of Arc and Cassandra Pentaghast and Chappel Roan. At the same time he looks like a regular from the Hallmark movie casting stables playing younger than his age. 6/10

Moroni and the Title of Liberty, Clark Kelley Price

Look at that bicep! Look at that tease of thigh! Look at that beard! But WHY does your armor look so Roman?? 7/10

Title of Liberty, Ken Corbett

Oh this guy was DEFINITELY at the capitol. 2/10

A Letter from Pahoran, Jerry Thompson

Another classic! ...Tell me I'm not the only one who sees "child of Dennis Quaid and DeForest Kelley." It's...it's odd. I don't know. The end result is Just Some Guy. 4/10

Come Forth, Walter Rane

You can't fool me! I know Matt Mercer when I see him! Not his best angle, though, especially with the strain from yelling. 6/10 (*Note: this score is not applicable to Matt Mercer himself.)

Captain Moroni and the Title of Liberty, Larry Winborg

The first time I saw this painting was a small, slightly off-colored paper cutout on a bulletin board at church, and I thought Moroni's face was much rounder and I was delighted at the prospect of a Moroni who looked a little chubby, known bear enjoyer that I am. Alas, I was wrong. But he's still quite handsome. 8/10

Young Captain Moroni, Lester Yocum

Oh, hello! An artist who remembered Moroni was in his twenties when he was appointed to his position! See that determination in those lovely dark eyes! Oh, and the curly hair! 8/10

Morianton's Maidservant and Captain Moroni, James H. Fullmer

First of all, we love a man who respects women. See that kindness in his expression. He is so strong, but being so gentle with his strength. Second of all: Daddy. He's got MUSCLE, and not in the bodybuilder way like some of these other paintings. Look at that nose just made for kissing, that hair just made for brushing strands out of his face, that beard just made for gently scratching your cheek. 10/10 PLEASE come sweep me off my feet and demand better of my government.

Send me more...Captain Moronis? Captains Moroni? Copies of Captain Moroni. And I'll rate them, too!

[queer-ragnelle]

I'm honestly kinda disgusted by the way a lot of authors just seeped their misogyny onto Guinevere to make her so horrible, lol. effectively destroyed a lot of people's view of her and she gets blamed for everything?? people keep shitting on her, saying Lancelot should be shipped with "someone better" and I'm just really annoyed because.. Guinevere is horribly characterized by these weirdos authors 💀. It does not take much to portray her as a complex character while also not making her shitty on purpose because you don't like her for her affair, lol.

I love her so much and it's disappointing how she's been treated :(( which is why I'll never be able to hate Guinevere or her ship with Lancelot

My friend it’s honestly so exhausting at this point. It’s not even limited to writing Guinevere herself as insufferable, but writing other characters behaving worse toward her than they ever were in medlit. Arthur hitting and degrading her when he cheats on her? (Warrior of the West by M. K. Hume) Lancelot using her for political gain and never loving her at all? (Enemy of God by Bernard Cornwell) Owain blocking her passage as she flees danger? (Legend in Autumn by Persia Woolley) Agravaine threatening to rape her? (The Road to Avalon by Joan Wolf) Gawain threatening to rape her? (Guinevere by Lavinia Collins) WHO are these characters bro you got me fucked up!!! The subtext here is that the authors hate Guinevere (read: women) so much they’re willing to warp everyone around her to treat her like garbage!!!

“Guinevere is bad because she has sex outside marriage.” Yeah so does Arthur. He fucked his own sister. In the dark. Leading her to believe he was her husband. So there’s Mordred, but there’s also Loholt and Arthur the Less etc. Arthur has many bastards from his extramarital affairs. (Vulgate and Post-Vulgate) Yet he isn’t canceled. Hm. Wonder what the difference could be? Let’s investigate. Seems authors treat Morgause and Morgan similarly to Guinevere. Gee, what is the common denominator here? Meanwhile in medlit, Morgause didn’t commit any crimes—she didn’t rape Arthur to have Mordred, she never neglected her children, she never cheated on Lot, and she didn’t prey on young men, she had ONE consistent lover who was younger than her AFTER her husband died. And she was murdered for it. (Post-Vulgate) Yet every other author writes her as a rapist (The Once and Future King by T. H. White), child grooming (The Wicked Day by Mary Stewart), pedophile (The Book of Gaheris by Kari Sperring), trying to put one of her sons on the throne (many examples). Now, Morgan is evil. But not for lewdness, for trying to murder people. In literally every source. Hello. It’s very simple. These authors are ridiculous. They care more about highlighting their opinion that fictional women having sex is BAD than writing a good story. When there are plenty of actually bad things happening in medlit they could condemn instead. You know, like the misogyny? Burning Guinevere at the stake??? You couldn’t make this up. It’s the utter disdain for the material for me. Assuming these dumbasses are even reading the material. Write something else where I can’t see it. (To be clear, I don’t even hate all the books I listed as examples, but they are unfortunately examples.)

Thankfully I haven’t encountered the blogger discourse regarding this. At least not lately. My advice to anyone who sees people shitting on something you like is to block them. Just do it. Fuck that noise. It’s not worth it.

Also I have to laugh at ship discourse about Guinevere/Lancelot. Of all pairs! It’s so unserious. They’re not some random comphet duo from the newest tumblr trending fandom. They’re mythological characters from a medieval literary tradition. Lancelot was created for her. In the 12th century. That was 900 years ago. It feels juvenile to reduce them to ship discourse. Especially because the story is fluid, it can be reshaped to fit the author’s narrative. So if Guinevere sucks, it’s because they made her that way. This is the epitome of making up a girl to be mad at.

“Oh but in Knight of the Cart—” Shh stop talking. If you’re pulling out KotC like some “gotcha” about Guinevere’s treatment of Lancelot, then you’re lost, buddy. You may be seeking entertainment in the wrong place! Guinevere and Lancelot aren’t real. Nobody was “abused” because they’re characters, narrative tools, to tell a story. Guinevere is flawed. Nobody ever said she wasn’t. If that’s too much complexity for you then I don’t know what else there is to say.

Honestly? Nobody is obligated to like Guinevere. I think it’s stupid to dislike her but the real take away is—if you dislike Guinevere so much, hate her even, why the are you writing so poorly about her? She’s as old a character as Arthur himself. Show some fucking respect or get out.

Anyway I’m going to end this with a recommendation! Today I started the third book of Sharan Newman’s Guinevere trilogy. The first two, Guinevere and The Chessboard Queen were utterly AWESOME!! Lots and lots of named women, like Guinevere’s mother Guenlain, Cador’s wife Sidna and daughter Lydia, Guinevere’s handmaiden Risa, and so on. The one downside is Morgause and Morgan are your typical modern retelling baddies, but overall it’s two thumbs up from me. Many points of view, but Guinevere is fascinating and complex and most importantly she is beloved!!!!!! Really hoping it stays enjoyable through to the end. Miss Newman is still in print, so I encourage everyone to seek these books out at your local library or from your favorite bookseller. Here’s a quote from book 2, The Chessboard Queen.

[lumillsie]

ೃ⁀➷ fandoms & characters I write for. ੈ✩‧₊˚

the fandoms I'm currently taking requests for are marked red. my favorite characters to write for will also be marked red.

if a piece of media you want to see me write for isn't on this list, ask me about it and I'll see if I'm familiar with it or intrigued by it enough to watch/read it. this list will be edited in case I become interested in writing for another fandom.

banner credits : @dollywons <3

╰┈➤ movies ₊❏❜ ⋮ ⌒

- the twilight saga - aro volturi, caius volturi, marcus volturi, demetri volturi, felix volturi, sulpicia volturi, athenodora volturi, leah clearwater, paul lahote, jasper hale, rosalie hale, alice cullen, carlisle cullen, benjamin (of the egyptian coven)

- the hunger games - finnick odair, johanna mason, gale hawthorne, cressida, cato, madge undersee (platonic)

- the ballad of songbirds and snakes - coriolanus snow, lucy gray baird, sejanus plinth, tigris snow, livia cardew, reaper ash,

- james bond franchise (daniel craig) - james bond, vesper lynd, le chiffre, gareth mallory (m), maximilian denbigh (c), lyutsifer safin

- harry potter - godric gryffindor, salazar slytherin, rowena ravenclaw, helga hufflepuff, newt scamander, theseus scamander, tom marvolo riddle, abraxas malfoy, barty crouch jr, regulus black, severus snape, evan rosier, james potter, sirius black, remus lupin, peter pettigrew, lily evans, marlene mcckinnon, pandora lovegood, xenophilius lovegood, bill weasley, charlie weasley, fred weasley, george weasley, ron weasley, draco malfoy, theodore nott, blaise zabini, hermione granger, harry potter, oliver wood, cedric diggory

╰┈➤ tv shows ₊❏❜ ⋮ ⌒

- game of thrones - robb stark, sansa stark, jon snow, daenerys targaryen, jaime lannister, margaery tyrell, cersei lannister, ramsay bolton, tywin lannister, tyrion lannister, joffrey baratheon, theon greyjoy, viserys targaryen, oberyn martell, bronn of the blackwater, edmure tully, ygritte

- house of the dragon - otto hightower, alicent hightower, gwayne hightower, daemon targaryen, rhaenyra targaryen, aegon 'the elder' targaryen, aemond targaryen, jacaerys velaryon, mysaria, alys rivers, addam of hull, ser criston cole

- from - ellis stevens, sara myers, nathan myers, kenny liu, fatima hassan, randall kirkland, jade herrera, tabitha matthews, jim matthews, boyd stevens, julie matthews (platonic), victor kavanaugh (platonic), kristi miller, marielle sinclair

- elementary - sherlock holmes, joan watson, marcus bell, mycroft holmes, jamie moriarty, odin reichenbach, gareth lestrade

- criminal minds - aaron hotchner, jennifer jareau, kate callahan, emily prentiss, elle greenaway, spencer reid, derek morgan, luke alvez, penelope garcia, tara lewis, jason gideon, david rossi, will lamontagne

- bones - zack addy, seeley booth, temperance brennan, angela montenegro, jack hodgins, camille saroyan, lance sweets, daisy wick, arastoo vaziri, jessica warren, finn abernathy, vincent nigel-murray, wendell bray

- castle - kate beckett, richard castle, javier esposito, kevin ryan, lanie parish, tom demming, hayley shipton, alexis castle (platonic)

- gotham - jim gordon, barbara kean, victor zsasz, oswald cobblepot, edward nygma, sofia falcone, jerome valeska, jeremiah valeska, tabitha galavan

- brooklyn 99 - rosa diaz, gina linetti

- shadow & bone - genya safin, kaz brekker, nikolai lantsov, jesper fahey, zoya nazyalensky, nina zenik, inej ghafa, matthias helvar

╰┈➤ books ₊❏❜ ⋮ ⌒

- a song of ice and fire series (mostly fire & blood) - arianne martell, young griff "aegon", aegon ' the conqueror' targaryen, rhaenys 'the conqueror' targaryen, visenya 'the conqueror' targaryen, maegor targaryen, rhaena targaryen, aemon targaryen, baelon targaryen, aegon 'the younger' targaryen, viserys ii targaryen, aemon 'the dragonknight' targaryen, daemon blackfyre, shiera seastar, daemon blackfyre

- the secret history - julian morrow, richard papen, henry winter, camilla macaulay, charles macaulay, edmund 'bunny' corcoran

- the folk of the air - jude duarte, cardan greenbriar, locke, nicasia, valerian, dain greenbriar, the ghost, the roach, the bomb, liriope

- house of hollow - iris hollow, vivi hollow, grey hollow, tyler yang

[davidwarnercorner]

Hostile Takeover (1988), starring David Warner, Kate Vernon, Michael Ironside, Jayne Eastwood, and Will Lyman (Youtube Link).

This is the first obscure David Warner movie I'm reviewing! Not the first one I've watched, but the one that made the biggest impression on me so far. I genuinely liked it and would recommend it (the only downside is that the only versions I can find online are VHS rips with not the highest video quality).

The premise: Eugene Brackin (David Warner), a disaffected, repressed office worker at a local power plant, takes three of his coworkers—Larry Gaylord (Michael Ironside), Sally Laird (Kate Vernon), and Joan Talmudge (Jayne Eastwood)—hostage, but makes no specific demands. Outside, local police chief Smolen (Will Lyman) tries to diffuse the situation without resorting to violence.

The sets are limited: most of the action takes place either in the office or just outside of it (it would probably make for a good stage adaption). Hostile Takeover is a character driven story about what it takes for someone to crack and what happens when they do. It engages with ideas about modernity, alienation, and longing; interwoven throughout are references to the T.S. Eliot poems "The Hollow Men" and "The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock" (and maybe others that I didn't pick up on). Whatever you make of it, this movie was trying to say something about modern life.

(More under the cut because this gets long. Spoilers below.)

Reviews

Reviews for Hostile Takeover are mixed, but I'm going to defend it a bit. Is it a perfect movie? No. But I think the experience suffers if you come into it with the idea that this is a true horror film, when really it's a psychological thriller. There are two brief scenes where there's a lot of dramatic blood, but those make up maybe half a minute of the total 90. There are tense, suspenseful moments, but I'm quite a coward when it comes to horror and this didn't bother me.

A lot of other online reviews call it a "Thanksgiving horror movie," and I'm not sure how this category got attached to it. It came out in December 1988, so it can't be based on release date, and Thanksgiving is never mentioned, we only see that it's autumn. Maybe it's because the movie was released in some countries under the title Office Party and the fact that it starts on a day when people would normally be out of office, like for a holiday (admittedly, I thought it was just a weekend).

Characters

All the central characters in this are interesting in their own ways and get their own moments of backstory, but the ones I want to talk about most are Eugene, Sally, and Smolen.

Eugene - a man who is frustrated enough to take his coworkers hostage but also polite enough to demand that the police bring dinner for them and repeatedly says he doesn't want to actually hurt anyone. David excels at playing characters that are a bit angsty and not quite satisfied with themselves, and Eugene fits that mold.

We're never explicitly told why he did what he did, but it's not that hard to infer. Eugene is a shy middle-aged man who lives alone in a tiny apartment, has nothing better to do than come in to his meager-paying job on an off day, and is maybe a little infatuated with his younger female coworker but is too restrained (and too self-conscious?) to pursue her even when she shows interest. He seemingly followed the "right" path for the 20th-century man and yet still feels his life is hollow. He insists that he's not a crazy, "psycho-type," he only wants to be perceived that way so he'll be sent to a hospital in the end, presumably because he wants to escape it all.

I wouldn't pick up a gun about it, but I can understand his despair. The loneliness and alienation he feels (and, on the other hand, the obsession some of his other coworkers have with money and power) are predictable side effects of the capitalist hellscape we live in.

...Moving away from that, let's talk about how hot David is in this. Some of that may be down to my personal preferences: I'm a sucker for stressed-out businessmen and the role that made me notice him for the first time was Sark/Ed Dillinger in TRON. But here...the suspenders with the gun holster. Him walking around with his tie loose. Being 1988, he'd started going grey and late 80s-early 90s David is peak dilf for me, the silver streaks in his bangs and at the temples make me feral. It's no wonder the next character, Sally, wanted him.

Sally - some Letterboxd reviews were very negative to Sally, saying that she's actually the most unsympathetic character and that she manipulates and seduces Eugene. I disagree, though I may be biased because if I were in her situation, I'd probably (want to) act the same. Textually, though, I think there is some support for my interpretation.

In her introductory scene, we see her walk into the office and immediately flirt with him. It didn't seem like she was doing it to mock him—she's also the only one (I think?) to call him "Gene" instead of his full name, which implies some fondness. We later learn that Sally is attracted to power, and she comments about how powerful Eugene is in his newfound position as hostage-taker, but let's remember that she was interested in him from her first scene, before there was any hint of anything being different that day. We also see that she previously attempted to "sleep her way to the top," but that it didn't work for her and she's bitter about the whole thing.

People also seem to think her affection towards him was just in service of self-preservation, but by the end she doesn't even seem to care about that anymore. She says to him, "you can still get away if you use me as a shield...you're loving and honest and kind, you don't have to die for this, Gene!". You could argue it's some kind of Stockholm Syndrome situation, but imo she seems to be basing this on experience beyond just the last two days spent in the office.

Also, like, is it really so hard to believe that she might genuinely be into him? Some people are just into dilfs and that's okay! It's normal! Us dilf-fuckers deserve the representation and Sally is great! She hates her asshole boss and wants the old man dick, she's just like me fr.

Unfortunately (spoilers), she doesn't get her tropical beach vacation ending with Gene and instead has to watch him die. And she'll have to live with that memory. It's all the more tragic because there are hints that their relationship could have worked if they had been able to open up to each other under different circumstances. As Smolen says, "what a fuckin' waste."

Smolen - there's more to this guy than initially meets the eye. He looks like the total opposite of Eugene, a stereotypical jock, but as the story progresses, parallels are drawn between the two. Someone even accuses him of holding the rest of the police force hostage because he won't let them go in guns blazing. He also takes the time to try to understand Eugene; he's the one who figures out the poetry connection. Eventually (spoilers), he ends up being the one to kill him and, though this is probably an artifact of the bad VHS quality, it looked like there was a trickle of blood running down his own forehead. In the end, both of them were forced into violence they didn't want.

Connections

Random connections I made while watching the movie, kind of like a trivia/fun facts section I guess?

Eugene reminded me a lot of D.B. Cooper. All these years later, we still don't know who he really was or why he hijacked that 727 on Nov. 24, 1971 (now that'd be a Thanksgiving movie!). What we do know was that he was middle-aged, polite to the crew, and had an unspecified "grudge."

One of the T.S. Eliot poems the movie references is "The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock," a stanza of which goes like this:

No! I am not Prince Hamlet, nor was meant to be; Am an attendant lord, one that will do To swell a progress, start a scene or two, Advise the prince; no doubt, an easy tool, Deferential, glad to be of use, Politic, cautious, and meticulous; Full of high sentence, but a bit obtuse; At times, indeed, almost ridiculous— Almost, at times, the Fool.

This part is not quoted in the movie, but it hit me kind of hard considering this context: David played Hamlet on stage in 1965, but it'd been almost 25 years since then when Hostile Takeover was made, and he was in the middle of being in a bunch of random B-movies. It also makes me think of when he was asked, around the time TRON came out, about playing so many villain roles and what he'd like to be in next, and he said something like "I'd like a romantic comedy." And then he...didn't get that? Ever? At least not as a lead. I...yeah. He does at least get the girl in this one! Briefly!

Conclusion

Should you watch this movie if you're a David Warner liker? Definitely. Should you watch this movie otherwise? At least give it a try. I didn't know where else to mention it but the soundtrack also stood out to me, it's very 80s but still good. The way they incorporated the popping and clanging sounds the heaters inside the building make into the music...banger.

I'll be posting some gifs from the movie soon. If you do watch this, or have watched it, please let me know what you thought....am I getting it all wrong? Are you team Sally?

Youtube Link Here. This is to a different or upscaled version than the one I watched. I only found it after I took all the screenshots and did all the gifs. My loss is your gain...?

[beggars-opera]

I wonder what kids are learning in music classes today.

Probably my experience was not the norm, but I'm fascinated by different peoples' perceptions of Classics That Everyone Must Learn. My music teacher in elementary school was an adorable little old lady who was probably younger than she seemed, but who was obsessed with music of the 1910s. She gave in to our endless cries to perform My Heart Will Go On, but what she really wanted us to internalize as the pinnacle of music at the end of the day was Let Me Call You Sweetheart and the entire George M. Cohan back catalogue. In middle school we got a different teacher who was all about jazz and social justice and the Classics That Everyone Must Learn became Billie Holiday and Joan Baez.

I should ask my cousins what the current standards are for their kids.

[fvckingwolfstar]

Spin the Bottle

pairing: poly!beatles

summary: the girls get drunk and decide to play spin the bottle, George centric, early-mid 60s

genre: smut!

wc: 2,918 (longest fic ive ever written😭)

cw: theyre women, this is lesbian smut. oral sex, vaginal fingering, drunk sex, thigh riding, first time

author’s note: description of the girls can be found here!

masterlist

smut under the cut

The four of them laid out in George and Ringo’s hotel room, spent from the day of traveling. George sat against her head board while Paul laid beside her, Joan and Ringo sat across from each other on the floor. They initially planned on going out that night, but decided on staying in to rest.

The girls passed around a bottle of Vodka, their conversations becoming louder and more energetic.

“Do you remember the bloke Rings picked up after the last show?” Joan asked, laughing.

“Oh please, don’t remind me,” Ringo responded, putting her face in her hands, “He was cute in the bar lighting!”

George rolled her eyes, accepting the bottle from Paul, “You’re never allowed to drink again if you genuinely thought that,” she hums, tipping back the bottle.

Ringo rolls her eyes and takes the bottle from George when she’s done, there was only a sip left, “Fuck, we need another one.”

It’s Paul who suggests it. She giggles out, “We should play spin the bottle.”

Joan smirks, “What an idea,” The two of them had explored that side of their sexuality before, but had never talked to the other girls about it. The alcohol must’ve boosted Paul’s confidence in suggesting things like that.

George’s eyebrows raise, “I don’t know,” she admits, looking at the three older girls.

Ringo shrugs, “‘m not opposed,” she said after finishing what was in the bottle. She placed it on the ground between her and Joan.

Paul stumbled off the bed and plopped down beside them, “C’mon, Georgie,” she hummed, tugging on her hand until she joined them on the floor.

“I’ve never played this before,” George says softly, starting to get shy.

Joan puts a hand on her thigh, “It’s okay, it’s easy,” she hummed, “I’ll go first,” she said, spinning the bottle.

It lands on Paul, who smiles up at her. Joan explains, “It landed on Paul, so I have to..” she says as she crawls over to Paul, pecking her softly. She hums and kisses her back.

“I know the rules,” George mumbles, rolling her eyes. She’s not that much younger than them.

“Now it’s my turn,” Paul ignores her, spinning it after Joan sits back down. It lands on George. “Is this okay?” she asks, crawling over to her, George could smell the warm alcohol from her lips.

George nods quickly as Paul leaves a soft kiss on her lips. George flushes bright pink and Joan laughs, “You act like you’ve never kissed a bird before, love.”

George looks over at her awkwardly, she hasn’t, why would she kiss another girl? “It’s my turn now?” she asks, spinning the bottle before they could answer. It lands on Ringo, who smiles up at George.

George shuffles to her, leaning down to kiss her before hesitating. “It’s okay if you don’t want to,” Ringo whispers softly, gazing at George warmly.

She shakes her head, a few strands of short hair falling into her face, “No, it’s okay,” she says, before leaning down to kiss her, embarrassment flooding her body. Ringo hums softly, kissing her back.

When George sits back down, it’s Ringo’s turn. She spins it, landing on Joan. She crawls over to give Joan a kiss, who accepts it gratefully, putting a hand on Ringo’s cheek.

Ringo giggled softly when she pulled away. Joan spun the bottle again, landing on George. George fiddled with her fingers, looking up at her nervously.

Joan shuffled to George, pushing a piece of hair behind her ear before kissing her tenderly. George tried to lean into it like the others did when they kissed each other. She liked the feeling of kissing another woman, no stubble scratched her face, and their lips were incredibly soft and inviting.

They continued playing, all having kissed each other multiple times. They had gotten another bottle by now, and their kisses became deeper. When it was Paul’s turn again, it landed on George. Paul took George’s face in her hands kissing her intently. George hummed against her lips, her shaky hand going to her side.

When Paul’s tongue pokes out from between her lips, George lets her mouth fall open. Paul smiles into the kiss, swiping her tongue against George’s.

When Paul pulled away, George looked up at her dazed. Joan laughed, “You killed her, Macca!” Paul hums and strokes George’s face before going to sit back down.

George shakily spins the bottle, landing on Joan. If any of the women weren’t going to let George rest after a kiss like that, it would be her. She scoots to Joan, who kisses her first, cupping her jaw. Joan runs a hand through George’s short hair, holding her head in place. She licked George’s bottom lip, and she opened her mouth obligingly.

George’s hands were firmly placed on her own lap, scared to reach out to touch her. Joan took her wrist and moved her hand so it was on her thigh. George blushed and pulled away from the kiss. Joan smiled softly, “Okay?”

George bit her lip, looking at the other two watching. Ringo bit her lip and Paul played with the ends of her hair as they watched intensely. She looked back at Joan who was still looking up at her. She wasn’t queer, and this was decidedly queer.

But it was just the four of them, this wouldn’t get out. If any of them came out about how George Harrison was a queer who kissed her friends, that would kill their careers too. She figured it was safe to lez out for one night.

She leaned back down to kiss Joan who let out a small hum. George put her hand that wasn’t on Joan’s burning thigh on her face, pulling her closer.

Joan pulls away from a panting George, “My turn,” she said.

George flushed, going to sit down again. Paul laughed at the sight of her, “That’s what I looked like when I was with her the first time,” she hums, not realizing what she let slip.

George raises her eyebrows, “You and Joan?”

Paul shrugs cheekily, “A few times.”

Joan spins the bottle, landing on Ringo. She scoots over to the other woman, kissing her passionately.

Ringo opens her mouth, letting Joan’s tongue dive in. Ringo puts her hands on Joan’s waist, pulling her close. Paul puts a hand on George’s thigh as she watches them. The small tinge of arousal George has felt this whole time growing. Paul squeezes the small amount of fat George has on her thigh, making her groan softly.

Paul looked over to her, her eyes flicking down to her lips. George flushed, looking at Paul’s lips too. She leaned in and kissed her.

Paul smiled and took the front of George’s shirt, pulling her closer. George grunted as she was pulled, her hand falling between Paul’s legs to hold herself up.

Joan pulled away from Ringo looking back at the other two, “They’re busy,” she laughed softly.

Ringo looked over at them and giggled softly, looking back up at Joan, “That’s okay,” she smiled, pulling Joan back into the kiss. She smiled and let her hand wander up under Ringo’s top, placing it on her stomach.

Paul’s hand worked its way up George’s thigh, stopping right under her shorts. George’s face burned hotter and she pulled away from the kiss, “I’ve never been with a girl.”

Paul blinked up at her slowly, “I can tell,” she said, not trying to sound rude. George let out a chuckle, “But it’s okay, it’s like being with a guy. Except for the dick, which really makes it a lot easier.”

Joan pulled away from Ringo, the two of them going over to where George and Paul were. Ringo put a hand on George’s other thigh, “It’s quite nice,” she hums. Paul leaned in and placed soft kisses on her jaw and neck, making George sigh.

Ringo leaned down and kissed her thighs, pulling a small gasp from the younger woman below her. She placed small tender kisses up her thighs, leaving a few bites in her wake. George placed a hand on Ringo’s head, trying not to mess up the ponytail she kept her thick hair in.

Joan pushed George’s hair out of her face and looked down at her, “Look at you, getting kisses from a bunch of birds,” she smiled, kissing her head softly.

George panted at all the attention, not knowing who to direct her focus on. Paul had brought her hand up and groped one of George’s tits. She moaned softly and leaned her head back, her free hand balled at her side.

Joan hummed softly, “Ease up, love,” she took her hand and placed it on her own waist. George looked up at her and was greeted with a hungry kiss. She held onto the other’s shirt tightly, pleading silently. Ringo’s fingers hook on the waist band of George’s shorts and she shoots a look up to her. She nods quickly, lifting her hips up.

Ringo slides the shorts off of her long legs, revealing her underwear and a trail of hair leading down to it. The three older girls let out hungry sounds at the sight.

Paul was the first to touch her, two of her finger’s going to rub her through the fabric. George moaned softly, the hand on Ringo’s head moving to Paul’s arm. Paul rubbed her clit, gaining speed as she squirmed below her.

Joan tugged at George’s hair, making her moan loudly. George squeezed her eyes shut as bursts of arousal shoot through her, trying not to be loud.

Paul smiled softly and hooked her finger into the legs of her underwear, starting to tug them down. “It’s not fair that I’m the only one being stripped,” George pants, pulling away from Joan’s lips.

Ringo smirks, “Desperate to see some tits are you?” she asks.

Paul laughs softly, “Of course she is, look at her,” she hums, stroking George’s face with her thumb. George blushes as the women around her strip to their underwear. She reaches out and cups one of Ringo’s large boobs in her hand tentatively, a red blush heating up her face and chest.

Ringo smiles, “Do you like them?” George nods slowly, squeezing it.

Joan hums, tugging at the hem of George’s shirt, “You’ve seen ours…” she starts. The younger girl pulls her shirt over her head quickly, blushing as she felt the other three stare at her, “You’re so pretty, Hazza,” Joan smiles, twirling a strand of George’s hair.

Ringo pushes a finger against George through the underwear that was never pulled off, rubbing her again. George’s head falls back against the bed as she lets out a loud moan.

Paul kisses down her neck to her chest, leaving hickies across her tits. Joan hums, watching the girls kiss and leave marks on George, “Let’s move to the bed,” she suggests.

Paul and Ringo nod, pulling away from George who sat there with her mouth agape. Joan took George’s hand and pulled her to stand up, sitting her down on the bed. Joan kneels between her legs, pushing them apart, and leaning in to pull her underwear down. George gasps softly as the cold air hits her cunt.

Joan rubbed her clit with her thumb, watching as George whimpered above her.

“What’ve the men you’ve been with done to you? Have they ever eaten you out?” Paul asked softly, sitting beside George. She pushed her hand into the younger girl’s hair, making her whine again as she shook her head.

Joan hummed, “That’s such a shame, Georgie,” she leaned in closer and licked a stripe up her pussy. She moaned loudly and leaned back on her elbows as Joans flicked her clit with her tongue, sucking on it lightly. She held George’s hips down as she squirmed under her.

Paul reached over where George laid out on the bed to Ringo, rubbing her through her underwear. She smiled and leaned over to kiss her, reaching out to do the same.

The girl beneath them whined at the sight, putting her hands on the girls’ hips. Joan sucked her clit harder, making her arch her back, “Fuck, I think I’m close,” she whines, trying to grind her hips down on Joan’s face, but the older girl pulls away.

George groans and looks down at her, “Why’d ya stop?”

Paul giggles and pulls away from the kiss with Ringo, “You can’t finish too fast, Georgie.”

Joan stood up from between her legs, “Wanna give it a try?” she asked, rubbing her thighs soothingly.

George sat up and nodded, “Uhm, on who?”

“Why not Rings?” Paul suggests, gesturing toward her. Ringo hummed and looked at George for approval.

George sat up and pushed Ringo down softly, leaning in slowly to kiss her. Ringo smiled into the kiss, her hand instinctively going to George’s messy hair. She tugged at it softly as her other hand cupped one of her breasts.

George kissed down her jaw to her neck, and chest. She kissed her right nipple, sucking it into her mouth as she looked up for approval. Ringo laid her head back, soft moans and praises tumbling out of her lips.

George kissed and sucked light hickies down her torso, her hands gripping her thighs tightly. She pushed Ringo’s legs open further, and started to pull off her underwear.

George could hear Joan’s chuckles and comments about her being eager, but ignored her once she pulled Ringo’s underwear down fully. She reached down and ran a finger down her slit lightly, earning a sweet giggle from the girl below her. She used a bit more pressure and made the same move.

“Touch her how you touch yourself,” Paul hummed, coming up behind George. “May I?” She asked, taking the younger girl’s hand and making her rub circles around Ringo’s clit. Once George could keep a steady rhythm, Paul let go.

Ringo breathed slowly underneath her, letting out tiny whimpers. George bites her lip and considers what she should do next. Fingering seems like the best option.

George pushes her index finger inside of Ringo, eliciting a louder moan. She pushes it up, and Ringo arches her back this time. That works! George pushes in a second, pushing them up again, amazed at how well Ringo is reacting.

George pushes them up steadily and lays down in front of her. She runs her tongue up and down Ringo’s clit gently, almost afraid to fully commit. When Ringo’s hands are back in her hair, all of her apprehensions left as she sucked the older girl’s clit into her mouth. Ringo arched her back, her legs shaking from the pleasure.

George whimpers against Ringo’s cunt when she feels a strong hand right below her ass. Joan ran her hand up and down her thigh, “You’re a natural,” she whispered. Her hand traveled down between her legs, her fingers pushing against her entrance. She chuckles when George pushes her hips back.

She pushes two fingers inside of her, setting a quick pace as she fucked her. Joan reaches out for Paul, who crawls up beside her. She immediately attack’s Joan’s neck with kisses, her hand going beneath her underwear.

Joan smiles and ruts against Paul’s hand, trying to keep up her pace with George. George whines against Ringo’s cunt, sending bursts of pleasure through her.

George is the first to come undone, everything happening around her is too much, and the alcohol in her system is heightening the experience. She pulls away from Ringo’s cunt and leans her head into her thigh as she moans. Her hips buck back against Joan’s hand, her cunt squeezing around her fingers.

Her fingers were still pressed against Ringo’s G-spot, and the consistent pressure made Ringo let out a choked whine as she came. Joan pulled her fingers out of George and licked one clean, Paul taking the other finger in her mouth.

George and Ringo panted as the younger girl crawled up the bed to lay next to Ringo. Joan and Paul were back to making out, Paul straddling one of Joan’s thighs.

Joan held her hips as Paul rocked herself on her leg, looking up at her lovingly. Paul’s knee was pushed up against Joan’s clothed pussy, and she made little grunts when she would move it.

Joan buried her face in Paul’s chest, taking a nipple between her lips. Paul sped up her movements, her face contorted in pleasure as she came. Joan hummed as she felt the warmth spread on her thigh.

Paul pushed her knee against Joan’s cunt harder, the older girl starting to rut her hips against it and moan into her chest. Paul gripped Joan’s hair as she brought her over the edge. After a moment, Joan pulled away and smiled up at Paul, leaning up to kiss her softly.

George bit her lip as she watched the watched the scene play out in front of her. She was distracted by Ringo tapping her shoulder, “Would you ever do this again? Sleep with a bird?”

George nodded, “I think I like it better than men,” she hummed, wrapping her arm around Ringo’s torso. She leaned her head on her shoulder as the other two girls untangled from each other, panting quietly.

Paul laid beside George and Joan beside Ringo. The room went quiet for a moment before Paul burst out in giggles, quickly infesting the rest of the bed.

“Holy shit we have to do that again.”

[scotianostra]

16th July 1588 saw the death of Agnes Keith Countess of Moray.

Agnes was a noblewoman the eldest daughter of William Keith, 4th Earl Marischal and Margaret Keith, born in Dunnottar Castle, about 1540. Her paternal grandparents were Robert Keith, Master of Marischal, and Lady Elizabeth Douglas, and her maternal grandparents were Sir Wiliam Keith and Janet Gray. Agnes was a descendant of King James I of Scotland and his consort Joan Beaufort, the subject of a post yesterday, who was in her turn the great-granddaughter of King Edward III of England.

She had two brothers, William Keith, Master of Marischal , and Robert Keith, 1st Lord Altrie and six younger sisters. These were Elizabeth, wife of Sir Alexander Irvine of Drum; Alison, wife of Alexander, Lord Salton; Mary, wife of Sir John Campbell of Calder; Beatrice, wife of John Allardice of Allardice; Janet, wife of James Crichton of Frendraght; and Margaret, wife of Sir John Kennedy of Balquhan. Her aunt was Elizabeth Keith, wife of George Gordon, 4th Earl of Huntly who would lead an unsuccessful rebellion against Mary, Queen of Scots in 1562. Her first cousin was Lady Jean Gordon, the first wife of James Hepburn, Earl of Bothwell, who himself would become the third husband of Mary, Queen of Scots. Agnes's father was a member of Queen Mary's Privy Council; he had fought at the Battle of Pinkie when she was about seven years old. He died in 1581. You can see I’m filling this post out a bit, but I am just showing that the Marischal's had connections far and wide with their fingers in a lot of pies.

At St. Giles Cathedral, Edinburgh or at Holyrood on 8 February 1561/2, Agnes was married to James Stewart, the illegitimate half-brother and chief adviser of Mary, Queen of Scots, who had been created Earl of Mar the previous day. The ceremony was magnificent, attended by many of the nobility, with John Knox having preached the sermon. The lavish wedding was followed by three days of festivities and banqueting at Holyrood Palace, the “frivolity” of which was subsequently denounced by Knox with the words: "the vanity used thereat offended many godly".

Queen Mary made much of the new Lady Mar and regarded her as a close member of her family. Having been well-educated, Agnes was described by author Antonia Fraser as having had "genuine intelligence and spirit". Keith M. Brown, Professor of Scottish History at the University of St. Andrews, called her "clever, acquisitive and steely". It was recorded that in August 1566 following the birth of Prince James, the future King James VI of Scotland, Agnes was one of the ladies with whom the queen kept the most company. In early February 1567, Agnes suffered a miscarriage, which provided her husband with an excuse to hastily depart from Edinburgh; thus he was away when Lord Darnley was murdered at Kirk O'Field.

Mary was deposed by the Confederate Lords at the battle of Carberry Hill, while Moray was still in France. Mary was taken in custody to Lochleven Castle. Although the Lords would not forward Moray's letters to Mary, Agnes stayed with the Queen and her mother-in-law at Lochleven in July 1567. The English ambassador in Edinburgh Nicholas Throckmorton heard there was "grete sorowe betwixt the Queen and her at theyre meeting and much gretter at theyre departing." Soon after on 24 July 1567, Mary was forced to abdicate.

Moray was proclaimed Regent of Scotland for the infant King James VI on 22 August 1567. While her husband held the regency, Agnes was the most powerful woman in Scotland. She was a very intelligent and intimidating politician, and many people were afraid of incurring her wrath.

In May 1568, before the Battle of Langside, she coldly informed her frightened cousin, George Gordon, 5th Earl of Huntly, "ye haf mad me angary". Huntly had indicated that he would support Mary rather than Regent Moray, so even though she had been close to the Queen , her loyalties lay with her husband.

Moray was assassinated at Linlithgow in January 1570, Agnes was pregnant at the time of her husband's murder and delivered a daughter, Margaret, shortly afterwards. She spent the two years following his assassination managing the family estates and fighting a series of legal battles in which she sought to obtain financial compensation for the time he acted as regent.

While Agnes was at Dunnotar, her mother-in-law, Margaret Erskine, looked after her second eldest daughter, Annabell at the New House of Lochleven Castle. Although Annabell was described as 'merry and very lusty' by Agnes' secretary John Wood in April 1570, some months later Margaret had to write to the widowed Countess of Moray describing her death. She told Agnes that, 'God sall send your Ladyschip barnis efter this, for ye ar young aneuch.'

Sometime between January 1571 and February 1572 Agnes married another powerful man, Sir Colin Campbell, heir presumptive to the earldom of Argyll. When he succeeded his brother as the 6th earl in 1573, Agnes was henceforth styled Countess of Argyll. During her second marriage, Agnes became embroiled in a litigation over Queen Mary's jewels which had earlier fallen into her keeping. It

Mary,had written to Agnes from Tutbury Castle soon after Moray's assassination on 28 March 1570 regarding these jewels. Mary wanted them sent to her in England including a piece made up of diamonds and rubies called the "H". This was the "Great Harry", a diamond given to Mary on the occasion of her first marriage by her father-in-law, King Henry II of France. The Earl of Huntly asked for the jewels on Mary's behalf on 1 November 1570, and Mary herself wrote again for them on 27th January 1571. However, the Regent Lennox had also asked for them on 13th September 1570. Facing a dilemma between handing the jewels over to Mary or the Scottish government, (knowing also that Moray had sold some of the crown jewels to Elizabeth I to fund the civil war), Agnes chose to hang onto the jewels.

It was Agnes' desire to hold onto these valuable jewels which provoked a feud between her second husband and the Regent Morton, who demanded their return on behalf of King James VI of Scotland, threatening the couple with arrest if they failed to deliver the jewels which he insisted belonged to the Scottish Crown. Agnes argued that she retained the jewels as a pledge for the debts owed to her for the expenses that the Earl of Moray had laid out as Regent.When Agnes and her husband failed to hand them over, they were both "put to the horn" (declared rebels) on 3 February 1574. Agnes appealed to the Scottish Parliament, and wrote several articulate, formal letters to Queen Elizabeth requesting her intervention which would permit Agnes to retain the jewels. These letters were considered by Francis Walsingham in September 1574.

The lengthy inquiry and litigation with Regent Morton over the custody of the precious stones, ended on 5th March 1575, when the earl, in his own name and that of Agnes, surrendered them to Morton. The Earl of Argyll would later be partly responsible for Regent Morton's fall from power and loss of the Regency in 1578. ...

Agnes died on 16th July 1588 in Edinburgh and was buried in St. Giles Cathedral inside the tomb of her first husband as seen in pic two.

[mariacallous]

For most of Jewish culinary history, anyone seeking to make matzah balls faced one major choice: sinkers or floaters?

In the 20th century, with the advent of home-cooking conveniences, another decision joined the one about density: from scratch or from a box?

Now, in an era of niche food products, home cooks have a new set of matzah ball options: freeze-dried, flash-frozen, and flecked with furikake, the Japanese seasoning mix including seaweed and sesame seeds.

As soup season descends, a growing number of new efforts are underway to remake Jewish culture’s most iconic comfort food for the harried home cook. Both legacy brands and new startups are getting into the matzah ball game, aiming to simplify production so that a bowl of steaming, tasty soup can always be just minutes away.

Nooish, which hit shelves in September, is a just-add-hot-water option that comes in a paper ramen container, emblazoned with iconography and lettering that its designer says subtly reflects American Jewish visual culture.

Shalom Japan, the Brooklyn Jewish-Japanese fusion restaurant, has recently launched a mail-order matzah ball ramen kit that allows home cooks to replicate its signature dish.

And even Manischewitz, the vaunted kosher brand that launched in 1888 as a matzah producer, has innovated on its longstanding line of box mixes. Now, Manischewitz matzah balls can be found in many supermarkets’ freezer sections.

“I don’t know if everyone is ready to make a matzah ball or is able to, especially the younger demographic,” said Shani Seidman, chief marketing officer of Kayco, the owner and distributor of Manischewitz. “But if you have it readily available in the freezer, you can plop it into any soup.”

The trend has prompted debate among Jewish food icons, many of whom have their own recipes and traditions for the soup that is a mainstay of Shabbat and holiday tables from the onset of cozy season until Passover in the spring.

Calling matzah balls “the supreme Jewish comfort food,” Joan Nathan, the matriarch of the Jewish food world, said she believed the readymade options are unnecessary and likely subpar. (Her own recipe calls for fresh ginger and nutmeg and results in balls that are neither overly dense nor especially light.)

“Matzah balls are so easy to make. They don’t take any time at all,” she said. “It  probably takes less time to make them than to buy them.”

But Adeena Sussman, author of the cookbooks “Sababa” and “Shabbat,” said she understands why some cooks would turn to readymade options. Her own family is divided: Her mom, Steffi, was firmly planted in the box-mix camp as she prepared food for 60 people at two Passover seders every year. As an adult, Sussman has taken to making her own family’s matzah balls from scratch, sharing a recipe in her collaborator Chrissy Teigen’s cookbook that calls for seltzer and black pepper.

“Not everyone has a great matzah ball recipe or the wherewithal to make matzah balls,” Sussman said. “It’s a hard time to be a Jew. Even a little Jewish comfort, by adding hot water to a matzah ball mix, I am all for it. I think it’s great.”

Some of the new products offer a spin on the classic dish.

Shalom Japan’s mail-order kit includes two soup packets that come with matzah balls, packets of noodles, scallions, soup mandels and a spicy sauce. Consumers need only to boil water, stick in the packets of soup to heat them, remove the packets and put the noodles into the same boiling water to generate their own version of matzah ball ramen. (Add your own furikake.)

“That dish is the dish people think of the most when they think of our restaurant,” said Aaron Israel, Shalom Japan’s co-founder with his wife Sawako Okochi. “It helps define us.”

Sarah Nathan, the creator of Nooish, meanwhile, touts the “clean” ingredients in her product — no MSG, less salt than other instant soups on the market, and high-end flavorings from Burlap and Barrel, the Jewish spice startup.

As a busy executive at food brands such as Chobani and Just Date, Nathan, 37, often found herself turning to instant soup when she didn’t have time to cook from scratch. But after helping plan a virtual Jewish food festival during the pandemic, she realized that none of her go-to brands reflected her own culture.

“Why can’t I get matzah ball soup instantly? Why does it have to take over an hour?” Nathan recalls thinking. “It’s so hard to make, hard to get and it’s expensive. But it is also a love language.”

This fall, after years of testing and product development, she brought Nooish to the market. The vegetarian, certified kosher soups come in packages of four for $40 or 18 for $125. Its name is a mashup of “new,” “Jewish” and a dose of advice from a successful entrepreneur.

“Gwyneth Paltrow said brands with two o’s — like Goop — sell better,” said Nathan, who worked at American Jewish University early in her career and now lives in Chicago.

Sussman sampled the soup and said she was initially skeptical because of its appearance — until she added hot water.

“They are like space food, freeze dried. When you look at it, it is dry and powdery with flecks of dried herbs. Until it is rehydrated you have no idea what is going to happen,” she said. “I was pleasantly surprised with the matzah ball. It was better than I thought it would be.”

In the first week after Nooish launched, Nathan said she sold mostly to friends and family. In the second, she said, orders poured in from around the world, including from places where cooking is impractical or impossible — including on a naval ship. Now, she’s touting its utility for organizations that want to send soup to their constituents but want to avoid ordering pricey restaurant delivery or setting up temporary distribution centers from their own kitchens.

The company’s social media is highlighting a comment from a Hillel employee who wrote, “Our Hillel sends soup to students who are not feeling well. Nooish has revolutionized how we do it — no more freezers, no more defrosting, no more complicated requests from campus dining.”

For Sussman, that type of experience is perhaps the greatest appeal of at-home matzah innovations such as Nooish.

“A convenience food that ties into super great comfort food memories and associations can fill a hole for people,” Sussman said. “Can’t you see every mom sending it to their kid in their college dorms? I would want to.”

[joanbarrie]

Basic info on Joan:

Based on Wendy from Peter Pan

Family was murdered in front of her when she was 15. She was only spared because of her ability. By the time she healed herself it was too late to save them.

She had 2 younger brothers

After her family was murdered - she stayed in her family home in London until she turned 18. She lived there alone with her families staff.

When she turned 18 she inherited the family's money, and sold the house. Then traveled around the world for a few years.

She got into all kinds of trouble during that time.

She finally settled in Japan at age 24

She tries to befriend people she finds scary. It's a coping mechanism and a way for her to defend herself.

She has some issues with wide emotional swings.

She recently took a job as a medic with XY.

She spends most of her time keeping house for the XY organization. She keeps busy because when she is free for too long she starts to get sad.

She sees Nugget and Shark as brothers. Wanting to keep them safe, but also not afraid to fight with them herself. She has big "I can bully them, but you can't" energy around them.

She sees Silent Black as the baby of the house. She goes out of her way to take care of him, and keeps him within her sight as much as possible.

Magician and Ashton are both new to her, but she knows they are part of the organization and so she considers them family - although they aren't that close yet.

Peach is someone she has to tolerate. She thinks of him as family, but only in that she has to live with him. She tries her best to keep him happy - even though she's convinced he hates her.

The boss frightens her, and she tries to avoid him unless she is talking to him for the benefit of one of the other members.

Her boyfriend Yukio is the love of her life. She's convinced she will never feel this way about anyone else - but she's not sure he feels the same about her, despite his reassurance.

(@plastictoyphone @mask-of-confessions @lets-play-a-game @m-xxavier @soonyouwillgo )

[manyfandomocs]

WBW + Ramona Harris, please??

@dancingsunflowers-ocs ✨💛✨

Yes yes and tagging @daughter-of-melpomene

B A S I C S

full name: Ramona Clarisse Harris

gender: Cisgender Female

sexuality: Lesbian

pronouns: She/Her

O T H E R S

family: Beverly Harris (mother), Cameron Harris (father), Winona Harris (older sister), Joan Harris (younger sister)

birthplace: Lima, Ohio

job: Student, Barista, Songwriter

phobias: Buried alive

guilty pleasures: Quinn

M O R A L S

morality alignment?: lawful neutral

sins - lust/greed/gluttony/sloth/pride/envy/wrath

virtues - chastity/charity/diligence/humility/kindness/patience/justice

T H I S - O R - T H A T

introvert/extrovert

organized/disorganized

close minded/open-minded 

calm/anxious

disagreeable/agreeable

cautious/reckless

patient/impatient

outspoken/reserved

leader/follower

empathetic/unemphatic 

optimistic/pessimistic

traditional/modern

hard-working/lazy

R E L A T I O N S H I P S

otp: Ramona/Quinn/Rachel

ot3: Ramona/Quinn/Rachel

brotp: Ramona/Mercedes

notp: Ramona/Tina

Send WBW and an oc for…

[absentia-if]

We talked about M's fam, what about B's fam?

Isaiah Ellis is a Park Ranger for the forests that surround Aurora. There’s nothing he loves more, barring his family, than to explore the depths of the forests and be surrounded by the sounds of it. He’s a gentle man, that doesn’t speak too much, but whenever he does his words have meaning.

Joan Ellis is the owner of a small fashion boutique, called Changing Seasons, and has a warm, motherly glow around her always. She’s definitely a mama bear that you wouldn’t wish to trifle with, but she’s a gentle by nature all the same.

Kennedy Ellis is the assistant to the Editor-in-Chief at a big publishing house— wherein they hope they’ll one day be promoted to an Editor themself. They’re not the warmest of people, but with their family that completely shifts.

Samantha Ellis, like her younger sibling, is a teacher. Although she teaches high school instead of Pre-K. She’s fairly soft spoken, but definitely has a temper and will blow up when pushed too far.

Lucy Ellis is the youngest of the Ellis Siblings and currently works at a flower ship within Aurora, called Game of Thorns, that she hopes to one day own. Flowers have always been an important part of her life, the meanings and symbolism behind them especially, and she absolutely adores working where she does.

[ao3feed-brucewayne]

Scarecrow's Beloved

by CriFree_FTW He had fallen in love with her, but her obsession with the abusive Clown Prince of Crime is the last straw. To break that unhealthy compulsion and protect her was to take her away and make her his forever. Words: 1723, Chapters: 1/10, Language: English Fandoms: Batman: The Animated Series Rating: Explicit Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con Categories: F/M, M/M Characters: Jonathan Crane, Harleen Quinzel, Pamela Isley, Joker (DCU), Edward Nygma, Jervis Tetch, Bruce Wayne, Joan Leland Relationships: Jonathan Crane/Harleen Quinzel, Joker (DCU)/Harleen Quinzel, Pamela Isley & Harleen Quinzel, Jonathan Crane & Edward Nygma & Jervis Tetch, Jonathan Crane & Joker (DCU) Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Rape/Non-con Elements, Graphic Description, Drama & Romance, Do NOT copy to another website, Episode: s02e11 Harley's Holiday (Batman: The Animated Series), Love Confessions, Gang Rape, no reposting, Triggers, Don't Like Don't Read, Pubic Hair, Honeymoon, Humor, Feels, Redemption, Harleen Quinzel Needs a Hug, Protective Jonathan Crane, BAMF Pamela Isley, Not Actually Unrequited Love, Wedding Fluff, Older Man/Younger Woman, Will update tags, Absolutely no offense to SA victims and survivors via https://ift.tt/tVqiAW5

[wisteria-lodge]

un-burning lion primary (unhealthy badger model) + burnt badger secondary

would it be okay to ask you to help sort me? i have no clue what i am. i took the test twice, at first i got lion-something (i don’t remember), now i got snake-bird. i’m not like, hyperfamiliar w/ the system, so i apologize in advance if i’m rambling about something unimportant, or leaving out details that would help pinpoint my type. also if i’m just completely incomprehensible. or if this is too personal? Like, feel free to ignore if this come across too trauma-dumpy, or to skip and delete if this is too much to read?

Well, someone’s Burnt.

I understand that you’re essentially doing a service for free on the internet and you don’t really owe me anything.

I do this because it’s interesting, and it’s fun. I think it’s good for me, and I’ve definitely helped some people. But your focus on *owing* things is... kind of interesting. I wonder if you might not have some strong ideas of authority and transaction in your life? Maybe some Badger? Just a thought. 

ever since i was little, i was very. uh. idealistic? very into social justice, very much root-for-the underdog, i even had kind of sad fantasies of being some sort of revolutionary martyr as as child, “like, man, if i could die in a way that means i’m remembered (and that my life meant something)  and sends a message, that’d be cool.” 

...honestly, I think every Idealist (especially every Lion, good lord) has had the Joan of Arc fantasy. I get it. There’s something very easy about the idea of dying for a cause you are 100% sure is correct. I remember being about 15, and being hit right between the eyes by this bit from one of my favorite books - 

“It was not the homecoming that made my sprits lift, but the fact that I still had a job to do for Ambrosius... I believe that all the time I was was half hoping that I would be asked to die for him. I was very young.” 

the reality is, i’ve dealt with quite a bit of hardship since i was little and this overfocus on the issues of society was a fun way for me to displace the anguish and rage i was feeling regarding my own personal situation. I think internally I felt really helpless to do anything, i was being dismissed, i had absolutely no one help or understand me in any meaningful way. 

Well then you’re way ahead of where I was. 

I mean you’re completely correct. You have power fantasies when you feel powerless, because you feel powerless. I even think they’re a pretty helpful and risk-free coping strategy in the moment. The first step to getting yourself out of a bad situation is imagining yourself powerful. 

even with people i held close, i didn’t really realize i could talk about what i was going through, i was kind of there to be silly and fun.

Ooooh. Stuck in a ‘bit.’ This could be some Actor Bird, but I don’t know. Something about the way it’s phrased is making me think Badger. “I was there to be silly and fun” = my purpose [to the group] was to be silly and fun [and I am only my purpose.] Have we got an Invisible Badger secondary? 

when it comes to causes, it eventually struck me that i wasn’t fueled by any real feeling of “purpose”, i was just plain old sad and projected it onto literally ~anyone~ who was also sad because i thought focusing on myself is bad. 

Well. Congratulations on working though it. You must have done some serious work, to be able to lay it out this well and this succinctly. I am very aware of this coping strategy - focus on other people, all day everyday. That way 1) you get to feel good about yourself 2) you have an easy way to make other people back of your case 3) you don’t have to think about or deal with your own issues.  

Younger you sounds so Lion, and older you seems to have latched onto some pretty toxic Badger Primary talking points. I think this might be a Burned Lion story. You lost your “feeling of purpose” and latched on to a set of external beliefs that are being branded as “good.” 

and when i tried to put action to my beliefs, i wouldn’t like, measure my rage and my actions to be within the bounds of that same “right and wrong” i was otherwise so concerned with; i learnt through some pretty tough experiences that there are people who are beyond reasoning, so i’d fight fire with fire all the damn time, and that made sense to me -

Hmm. Out of control Lion secondary? Something beneath a “silly and fun” model that is just clawing its way out? Or were you just living in a loud (slightly exploded) Lion primary? 

but a lot of people reacted as if i was out of control, even people within the communities i identified so strongly, that i was under the impression would understand why and what i’m doing. that, uh, hurt, although i understood where they were coming from and would adjust my behavior.

So your communities (that you thought would understand you) actually thought you went too far, and freaked out. This is going to hurt no matter who you are, but this focus on communities, and correctly gauging vs incorrectly gauging the community is saying Badger to me. And since it’s about problem solving, it’s saying more Badger secondary.. 

To further illustrate my Savior Complex, i’d often find myself in friendships and relationships with people I felt were not treated correctly. it wasn’t built just on pity, i didn’t necessarily force friendships with people i just didn’t mesh with, but having been through A Lot, I felt like I could only connect with other people who been through A Lot. 

I would normally connect the term “Savior Complex” to a Lion primary, but the way you’re talking about it here actually feels more Badger. The focus on “fairness,” the need-basing, this way of dividing the world into ‘people who’ve been though it’ and ‘people who haven’t’ is kinda Badger. I’m thinking this might be what ever system you latched onto when your Lion Burned... because it doesn’t sound good for you, or like it made you very happy. 

One of them was the straw that broke the camel’s back though and really made me reevaluate what the hell am I doing. I was deeply scrutinized while i continuously gave myself away for this person. if i tried to set a boundary or question anything, i’d have the script turned around on me, and because i would pride myself on being so open minded, i’d really let whatever they accused me of doing live in my head rent free. 

Ouch, yeah that’s a Badger secondary. That’s *exactly* how a Badger secondary gets taken advantage of. You want to help, because that’s what Badgers do (and struggle with boundaries, because that’s what Badger’s do.) And this is a very chilling description of how Courtier Badger mirroring, which can be so joyful and wonderful... can also flip around and hurt you. Because if you reflect what people want to see back to them, by internalizing it... yeah. You can end up with all kinds of gunk that another secondary might have just disregarded.

it eventually made me feel like everything is always my fault, and that i  should just keep giving more, and trying harder. it’s only when i gave so much i basically couldn’t function anymore did i leave, and i was painted as The Bad Guy.

You were a Badger secondary who was taken advantage of. 

i’m now in this weird space where i still deal a lot with guilt, but i’m trying to not engage in it. I'm really distancing myself from anything that isn’t focused on healing and improving myself, causes included. My first priority should be being happy, and comfortable, and satisfied, and safe.  

YES. Correct. Won’t be any use to anyone (or any Cause either) if you’re not those things first. 

and also realizing that sometimes doing what i think is right will make people think i’m in the wrong, and that doesn’t mean that i am, and that truths can even co-exist.  i got kind of meaner, but also take losses easier and don’t try to push things that don’t work anywyay. 

You sound healthier. And you sound healthier in a Lion primary way, more than a Badger primary way. Little more mean, little more of a loner (and cool with it), little more of “that sounds like a you problem,” “what is true for me might not be true for you.” 

i do kind of still yearn for someone to understand me 

That’s being human. 

but not to sound like an ass but most people give me a headache. Too much black and white, too much group-thinking,

You’ll be okay, and people will also look better after you’ve healed a little. It sounds to me like you were probably in some pretty toxic Badger spaces, so of course these traits are too much for you right now. 

not enough communication (i don’t get social cues whatsoever) etc. I act friendly enough because there’s no real way to survive as an island on your own but it is exhausting lol

Your secondary sounds like it was severely, severely burned, in a burnt out kind of way. And right now, you are doing what you need to do to let it heal. And next time you’ll do better. Your communication and your boundaries will be better, and you won’t have to spend all your time being the fun person who never asks for anything. 

thoughtfulrunawaything

[androgynealienfemme]

"Dear Rocky, 

Here I am, taking my pencil in my hand to say hello and hoping that you are in the best of health, both physically and mentally. As for me, I am fine, thanks to Almighty God. 

The weather in the Valley is the shits. As you have probably read on the radio we had a hurricane named Camille, a real killer that left many people homeless. Our house is still standing, but the Valley looks like Venice without gondolas. As a result of the flooded streets, I can’t go anywhere. My poor car is underwater. But that’s all right. I think the good Lord sent us a killer storm so that I would sit home and think seriously about my life, which I have been doing for the last three days. 

You are right my dearest friend, I am not getting any younger. It is time that I should start to think about what to do with my life. Since you left for school, I have been seeing a girl named Rosita, and I have already asked her to marry me. It’s not right to go around screwing without the Lord’s blessings. As soon as I can drive my car, I”m going to see what I can do about this. 

Your sister is right, I have been going around with some whores, but now that I have met Rosita, all that is going to change. I never talked to you about anything so personal as what I’m going to say, but take it from me, it’s true. Every time I do you-know-what, I come just like a man. I know you’re laughing right now, but Rocky, it’s God’s honest truth. If you don’t believe me, I’ll show you someday. Anyhow, it won’t be long until you come home for Christmas. I’ll show you and I promise you will not laugh and call me an idiot like you always do. 

In the meantime, since you are now close to the university library you can go and check it out for yourself. A woman can become a father if nature has given her enough come to penetrate inside a woman. I bet you didn’t know that. Which goes to prove that you don’t have to go to college to learn everything. 

That shadow on my face that your sister saw was not charcoal or anything that I rubbed on my face to make it look like a beard. It is the real thing. Women can grow beards, too, if they shave their faces every day to encourage it. I really don’t give a damn if you or your sister think it looks ridiculous. I like it, and so does Rosita. She thinks I’m beginning to look a lot like Sal Miner, do you know who he is? 

Well, Rocky, I think I’ll close for now. Don’t be too surprised to find Rosita pregnant when you come at Christmas. I’ll have a whole case of Lone Star for me and a case of Pearl for you. Till then I remain your best friend in the world. 

Love, Gloria"

-"The Gloria Stories" Rocky Gámez, The Persistent Desire (edited by Joan Nestle) (1992)

[valentinesfrog]

Scarlet

Casey Novak x Rita Calhoun

Sickfic, Hurt/Comfort, Fluff <3

If the door unlocking and the sound of a duffel bag hitting the floor didn’t signal the arrival of Casey, the sudden lapful of prosecutor certainly did the trick.

“Hello,” Rita murmured into red hair, as Casey buried her face into her neck. “Rough day in court?”

“Langan decimated me,” Casey mumbled. “I’m completely off my game.”

Rita let one hand trail from Casey’s hair to her back, scratching lightly between her shoulder blades, while her other hand clicked at her laptop a few more times. “Sounds like dinner and a nice bath are in order, hm?”

“‘M not that hungry,” Casey said, lips still pressed against Rita’s skin.

Rita closed her laptop so she could wrap her arms fully around the koala-Casey in her lap. “Did you eat lunch?”

“Wasn’t that hungry at lunch, either. I just wanna sleep.”

Rita gently maneuvered Casey out from her hiding spot buried in Rita’s shoulder so she could press her lips against Casey’s forehead. “Are you feeling alright, darling? You’re warm.”

“Just sleepy.” Casey tugged away just to press her face into Rita’s neck once more. “And the lights are too bright.”

“Then I suppose it’s bedtime.” Rita untangled herself and pulled them both up, guiding a slightly wobbly Casey to the bedroom. “I’m going to shower and eat something quick, and then I’ll join you, alright?”

“Mhm,” Casey hummed, already burrowing under the covers.

Rita ducked out and padded quietly around the kitchen, finding the rest of her caesar salad from lunch and picking at it while she packed up her files and laptop. When she was pleased that all of her work was sufficiently hidden enough to not disturb her tomorrow off in the slightest, she tossed away the empty salad container and made her way to the shower.

Emerging from the shower, Rita felt the tensions of the day melt away and was very ready to crash for the night. She wrapped herself in a fluffy towel and slipped into her and Casey’s closet, opening a drawer where her old college t-shirts lived. She rummaged around, realizing Casey had beaten her to it when she couldn’t find her Joan Jett shirt. She retaliated by grabbing Casey’s softball hoodie.

She was crawling into the bed behind Casey when she heard the mumbling, and was immediately worried.

“Case,” she whispered, reaching to rub at her shoulder. “Case, baby, wake up. You’re having a nightmare.”

The redhead didn’t wake up and just continued to talk to herself, though she didn’t seem to be in distress. Rita gently rolled her over.

“The people request… a ten minute recess…” Casey mumbled, words slurring together.

Rita couldn’t hold back her smile. “Recess granted,” she murmured. She pressed the back of her hand to Casey’s forehead and found the younger woman was definitely burning up.

Rita slid out of the bed to go back to the bathroom and wet a facecloth with cold water, hoping to cool Casey down a little. She grabbed a bottle of Tylenol from the medicine cabinet before returning back to the bed.

“Casey,” Rita whispered, brushing her hair out of her face. “Wake up, sweetheart.”

“Objection, are you— are you—”

“Argumentative?”

“Objection, argumen’ve…”

“Sustained.” Rita ran her thumb over a cheekbone. “Wake up, love. You need to take some medicine.”

Casey blinked her eyes open blearily. “Hm?”

“You’re burning up, sweetheart. You need to take some Tylenol.”

“Not hot. Cold.” Casey tugged the blankets up a little, but relaxed into the bed as Rita draped the washcloth over her head. “Oh, that’s good, that’s good.”

“You’re feverish, baby. Take some Tylenol.” Rita helped her sit up before handing her two pills and a glass of water.

Casey popped a pill in her mouth but suddenly spluttered, choking on both the pill and the water and coughing it back up. “Fuck,” she hissed, having just drenched herself.

“Okay, okay,” Rita soothed, trying to pat away the water. “It’s alright.”

“Can’t swallow,” Casey gasped, still choking a bit. “Throat won’t— shit. Sorry, sorry…”

Rita recognized the look in Casey’s eyes as one of impending panic, and rushed to reassure her. “You’re okay, deep breath. Deep breath, Casey, there you go.” Rita was beginning to get very concerned, as she’d never seen Casey have trouble swallowing a pill, and Casey’s eyes were rather unfocused. She seemed dazed. “Try taking a smaller sip, don’t worry about the pills right now.”

Casey obeyed, fortunately getting some water down this time, and didn’t protest when Rita helped her out of her shirt to put on a dry one. But when Rita tugged her shirt over her head, she froze. “Oh, shit.”

“Hm?” Casey asked, half awake and still dazed.

“You— you’re red.” Rita took a step back, thinking it probably was not smart for her to touch the rash directly. “Sweetheart, your body is all red.”

Casey looked down, as if she was just comprehending this. “Tha’s not good.”

“No, it definitely is not. Does it itch?”

“Hmm,” Casey hummed, thinking about it very hard. “I don’t think so.”

“Hang tight for a minute.” Rita disappeared to throw the shirt directly into the washing machine, because she did not want that sitting with the other clothes, and washed her hands just in case. She grabbed another old t-shirt from their closet. “You’ll have to settle for Black Sabbath,” she joked as she reentered the bedroom, just to find Casey had dozed off again.

Rita watched Casey sleep for a moment, tucked under the blankets and still muttering to herself, before she grabbed her cellphone and dialed a number.

“Hey Daisy,” a cheery voice said, and Rita rolled her eyes fondly at the nickname her family couldn’t seem to kick. “Bit late to be looking for an expert witness.” 

“Uncle Brian,” she greeted. “I’m not calling for a case, I just need some advice.”

“Are you alright?” 

“I’m fine, it’s my… my partner.” This was an interesting way to out herself to her extended family. “She’s very ill, and I’m worried.”

Fortunately, Uncle Brian took it all in stride. She figured he would. He was always her favorite. “Talk to me, Daisy.” 

“She has a high fever, a rash, and is having trouble swallowing.” Rita leaned against the doorway to their room, keeping an eye on Casey as she slept. “She said she had no appetite earlier, and she crashed as soon as she got home, so she must be exhausted.”

“What does the rash look like?” 

“It’s blotchy and red, all over her torso, but she said it’s not itchy.”

“Is she coughing?” 

“Not that I’ve heard.”

“Sounds like Scarlet Fever.” 

Rita blinked in disbelief. “Will she be okay? Do people really still get that?”

“Yes and yes. Scarlet fever comes from untreated Strep. She probably had symptoms but kept warding them off with Tylenol or Advil until it developed into full blown Scarlet Fever. It’s more common in children, but adults can still get it. Which is why you need to be careful and wash your hands a lot if you’re going to be in close contact, got it?” 

“Got it.” Rita was still watching Casey, who shifted and said something that sounded suspiciously like ‘ladies and gentlemen of the jury…’ “What should I do?”

“Try to keep her fever down. I can stop by in the morning to take a look at her and prescribe an antibiotic.” 

“She’s allergic to penicillin,” Rita said offhandedly.

She could hear the smile in Uncle Brian’s voice when he said “Noted. Take care of her, Daisy.” 

“Will do. Thanks, Uncle Brian.” Rita ended the call but stayed leaned against the doorway, thinking carefully.

“The people re… request… a continuance,” Casey announced.

“You’re gonna need one,” Rita said under her breath, before quietly making her way back to Casey’s side of the bed and waking her up again, helping her get the new shirt over her head. “A doctor’s coming in the morning, okay? He’ll take a look at you.”

“Mkay,” Casey agreed, though Rita was doubtful she really comprehended that.

“I need you to try to take the pills again, okay? We’ll go slow, but we need to get your fever down.”

“Mkay,” Casey agreed again, confirming Rita’s belief that she wasn’t really processing anything.

Fortunately, this time, Casey was able to manage down the two pills with minimal gagging, before she slumped back into the bed, exhausted by the simple task.

“Sleep, little one,” Rita instructed, pressing a kiss to her forehead, and Casey’s eyelids immediately fluttered shut.

Rita climbed into bed behind Casey, deciding that if she was going to get sick she probably would already, and curled around her. Casey was usually the big spoon, on account of her having about five inches on Rita, but this time she immediately snuggled in close.

Casey slept soundly at first, with Rita running her fingers through her hair soothingly, but as she began to sweat out the fever she started to squirm and talk in her sleep again. Rita listened to a slurred recount of her closing argument spoken in court earlier that day, a few objections, and some muttered insults towards Langan that she tried her best not to laugh at. Rita just kept brushing her hair, responding when she could, not that she was sure Casey could hear her.

Rita had barely slept at all by the time the sun rose, but Casey had fortunately slipped into a quiet sleep once the Tylenol kicked in and her fever dropped.

Rita disentangled herself from the finally sound asleep Casey and opted for a quick shower, hoping to keep the germs at bay for at least a little longer, before dressing and checking her phone. She had the day off, but she was pretty sure Casey was on call, and she debated between shooting a text to Benson or waiting for Casey to wake up and call herself in. She really didn’t want to explain why she was Casey’s emergency contact, but she also didn’t want to wake Casey up any earlier than she naturally awoke.

A ping from her phone had her looking down to see Uncle Brian had texted saying he would be at their apartment around 8:30. The clock read 8, so she decided to wake Casey up.

“Good morning, sunshine. How do you feel?” Rita asked, checking her temperature again. It had gone back up, but not as high as the night before.

“I dunno,” Casey mumbled, seeming a bit confused. “I think my brain melted.”

“My uncle will be here in a half hour, do you want to try a cool shower before he gets here?”

“Your uncle?” Casey asked, nose scrunching in the way it did when she was trying to remember something she didn’t want to admit she forgot.

“The doctor. He’s going to figure out what’s going on and get you some medicine.”

“I’s just a cold,” Casey protested, standing up out of the bed and immediately pitching forwards.

“Woah!” Rita caught her by the shoulders and lied her back down.

“Fuck,” Casey muttered. “My brain did melt.”

“He thinks it’s Scarlet Fever,” Rita informed her.

“Do people really still get that?” Casey asked.

“You do, apparently.”

“Sounds like I’m on the Oregon Trail,” Casey mused, leaning her head back until it hit the headboard.

“That’s Dysentery, love.”

“Same difference.”

“I can assure you it is not,” a voice came from behind them, and they both jumped.

“Uncle Brian!” Rita greeted. “I forgot I gave you a key, you scared the shit out of me.”

“Sorry,” Brian said apologetically, setting down his bag. “Morning, Daisy.”

“Daisy?” Casey asked, amused, and Rita shot her a look that made her giggle, which made Rita smile and kind of ruined her whole attempt at a scary look.

“And this lovely lady?”

“Casey Novak,” Casey introduced. “I’m usually a bit more put together.”

“I promise I’ve seen far worse,” Brian said. ��Can I take a look at your throat?”

He began to carry out his examination as Rita leaned against the edge of the dresser, watching Casey tiredly try to crack jokes with her uncle.

A phone ringing snapped her out of her thoughts, and Casey glanced over. “Shit, I’m on call.”

“Not today you’re not,” Brian said.

“I’ll get it.” Rita grabbed the phone and stood, leaving the room as to not distract the doctor. “Calhoun.”

A pause, before Olivia Benson’s voice asked, “Rita?” 

“Yes?” Rita asked, because she could’ve cleared it up right away but this was much more entertaining.

“Did I call the right number?” 

“If you were trying to reach Ms. Novak, yes.” Rita caught the phone between her ear and shoulder to start a pot of coffee. “She is unfortunately sick and won’t be able to come in today. Or tomorrow. Is there anything I can help you with?”

There was some muffled speaking from the other end of the line, and she imagined Olivia had covered the speaker and was talking to one of the other detectives.

“What’s Calhoun doing answering Casey’s phone at eight in the morning?” She heard one of the guys ask, and had to grin, because for detectives they could be pretty clueless.

“The same thing Cabot’s doing when she answers Liv’s in the middle of the ni—” Another one started, but was interrupted with a yelp, sounding like he’d either been kicked, punched, or had his foot stomped on rather aggressively.

“Files!” Olivia quickly said into the phone. “Files for the Adbury and Smythe cases. Can you ask her where those are?” 

“I can do that.” Rita poured two mugs of coffee.

“Is she doing alright?” 

“She’ll be okay. I’ll tell her you called.”

“Thanks, Rita. Take care.” 

Rita hummed her response and ended the call, grabbing the coffee to reenter the bedroom where her uncle was packing up. “Scarlet Fever,” he announced, as Casey pouted, arms crossed. Rita passed a mug to him.

“Poor baby,” Rita cooed, which just made Casey roll her eyes (but lean into Rita’s arms).

“I’m prescribing an antibiotic,” Brian said, sipping the coffee before pulling out a prescription pad.

“I’m allergic to penicillin,” Casey told him.

“Rita mentioned that,” Brian said without looking up.

Casey glanced up at her. “How’d you know that?”

“I’m your emergency contact. I have to know.”

Casey suddenly went wide eyed. “Oh, shit. I should— Are you allergic to anything?”

“No,” Rita said, biting back amusement. “And Uncle Brian is also listed as my emergency contact, so don’t worry. He wouldn’t let me die.”

“Damn straight,” Brian said. “Here’s the prescription.”

Rita picked the slip from his hand. “Thank you.”

“I’m off to work. See ya, Daisy.” He leaned forward and wrapped an arm around Rita’s shoulders, kissing her head and eliciting only minimal grumbling, which was impressive, because Rita was a big fan of grumbling. “Pleasure to meet you, Casey. I’m sorry it wasn’t under better circumstances.”

Rita threaded her fingers through Casey’s hair after Uncle Brian left, and Casey hummed appreciatively, leaning her head into her hand.

“I’m sorry you have Scarlet Fever,” Rita murmured.

“Who even gets Scarlet Fever anymore?” Casey asked.

“Children under the age of ten, and Assistant District Attorney Cassandra Agnieszka Novak.”

“I’m still so impressed you can pronounce Agnieszka.” Casey’s head lolled a little. “Daisy?”

“Marguerite means Daisy,” Rita explained. “There are about three people who can get away with calling me that.”

“Am I one of them?”

Rita trailed her fingertip down the bridge of Casey’s nose before booping the tip. “Three and a half,” she teased. “Benson called, she asked where the files for Adbury and Smythe are.”

Casey closed her eyes and groaned in frustration. “My briefcase.”

“I’ll go drop them off at the precinct and pick up your antibiotics.”

“Thank you.” Casey nuzzled into Rita’s neck and reached around her back for her coffee.

Rita didn’t even have to look to swat her hand away. “No caffeine, you’re dehydrated as is.”

Casey pouted again, giving her big eyes.

“Uh-uh sweetheart, that doesn’t work when it comes to your health.”

Casey buried her face in her shoulder and huffed. “I’m not that sick.”

“Scarlet Fever.”

“Point made.”

“Do you need anything?” Rita asked, brushing Casey’s cheekbone with a thumb.

“I’m fine, I’m just going to get—”

Casey had barely even pushed herself up before Rita pushed her right back down. “Nope. No standing, I don’t trust you to not faint on me.”

Casey rolled her eyes but flopped back down into the cushions. “My laptop?”

“No working,” Rita instructed. “Absolutely no work.”

“You work when you’re sick.”

“And I don’t get sick with diseases known for infecting eighteenth century maidens. No work. I can and will child restrict your laptop.”

“I had to show you how to use AirDrop the other day.”

“I would have figured it out!”

“I love you.” Casey squeezed her hand. “And I’d kiss you if I wasn’t…”

“Yeah, please don’t.” Rita patted Casey’s head and stood up. “Watch a movie, drink your water. I’ll be back soon, alright, darling?”

“Thank you,” Casey murmured, as Rita passed her her laptop and dropped another kiss to her head.

“Get some rest, little one. Call me if you need anything.”

— — — — — —

“He didn’t invoke!” Were the words greeting Rita to the precinct. She rolled her eyes. Secretly she was quite pleased by the uneasy looks she generated walking into the bullpen, but her job was to be the stony defense attorney Rita Calhoun. Smiling ruined her image, even if she technically was off today. 

“Is one of my clients in the interrogation room, Detective Stabler?” She asked, crossing her arms.

“Not that I know of,” he retorted. “What are you doing here, then?”

“Bringing you the Adbury and Smythe files. You’re welcome,” she said, dropping the folders onto Olivia’s desk.

“Oh, thank you.” Olivia’s attention was torn between her computer screen and the papers, barely paying Rita any mind. Rita occasionally wondered if that woman was the only one getting any work done in SVU. “How’s Casey?” She asked, absentmindedly.

“Better question, why are you runnin’ papers for Novak?” Fin asked with a shit eating grin.

“Is our lovely ADA turning to the dark side?” Munch added, voice infused with mock horror.

“You’re detectives,” Rita said, snapping her briefcase shut. “Figure it out.”

She appreciated the amusement on Olivia’s face though the woman never tore her eyes from her screen. “ADA Greylek’s gonna sub for a few days.”

“Oh, Casey will be overjoyed to hear that,” Rita muttered, swiveling to leave.

“Take care of her, Calhoun!” Olivia called after Rita as she left the bullpen, Rita throwing a wave of acknowledgement in her direction without turning back.

— — — — — —

Rita pushed the door open slowly, unsure if Casey would have gone back to sleep by now, but she heard soft speaking from the bedroom that sounded much more coherent than the sleep rambling. It was interspersed with bits of Polish, which meant Casey was probably on the phone with her mother.

She made her way to the bedroom and stopped in the doorway, scanning Casey over as she talked to her mother. The redhead seemed to be fairing a little worse than when Rita had left, her skin more flushed and her eyelids drooping. Rita knocked quietly on the entryway to announce her arrival. “Hello, darling.”

“Hey,” Casey said, rubbing at her eyes. “Everything okay at the one six?”

“Greylek’s subbing in for the time being.”

Casey let out a loud groan and buried her face into the bed.

“Hello Laura,” Rita greeted the phone.

“Hi Rita,” Casey’s mother’s voice rang out. “You’re taking good care of my baby?” 

“W porządku, mama,” Casey very near whined into the phone.

“She has Scarlet Fever,” Rita leaned in closer to say to the phone, before plopping a kiss on Casey’s forehead and backing up to unpack her bag.

Laura gasped from across the line. “Cassandra! You said it was just a cold.”

Casey shot Rita a weak glare. “I said I had cold-like symptoms,” she specified. “I’m on antibiotics, Rita’s a good nurse.”

Casey hadn’t actually started antibiotics yet, but Rita chose not to get her into any more trouble and instead shook the pill bottle a little to catch Casey’s attention as she put it on the nightstand, Casey’s eyes flicking to her and back to the phone as she finished up her conversation with her mother.

“Kocham cię, mama. Yes, I’ll keep you posted. No, you do not need to come to Manhattan.”

Rita leaned against the dresser and watched, amused, as Casey tried to talk down her mother.

“Też cię kocham,” Casey repeated. “I know, mom. Bye-bye now.”

Casey tilted her head back and closed her eyes in adorable frustration as her mother kept speaking. In Polish, so Rita unfortunately couldn’t understand.

“Goodbye, mama,” Casey said again, a bit more emphatically, before ending the call. “Did you have to tell her it’s Scarlet Fever?” Casey complained.

“She loves you,” Rita said with a grin. “And I bought you ice pops.”

“You’re forgiven,” Casey immediately relented.

“How do you feel?” Rita asked, as Casey unscrewed the cap to the antibiotics.

“Fine.”

“You don’t look fine.”

“You know how to flatter a lady.” Casey popped one into her mouth and swallowed it with a gulp of water.

“Casey,” Rita warned, voice low, raising an eyebrow.

Casey sighed. “I feel like shit.”

“Worse than this morning?”

“Yeah,” Casey grumbled, turning her face so her words were muffled by the pillow.

“Do you want some more Tylenol?”

“No. I hate sweating out fevers.” Casey blinked open one eye to look at her. “I’d take an ice pop, though. My throat is on fire.”

“What flavor?” Rita asked as she made her way to the kitchen.

“Red,” Casey called, and there were a few different reds but Rita picked at random and grabbed a paper towel before returning to pass them to Casey. She climbed into bed next to her girlfriend.

“You’re gonna get sick if you stay too close to me,” Casey said between licks of her ice pop.

Rita shrugged and picked up the remote. “I’ll live. What do you want to watch?”

“You know what I want to watch.” Casey cocked her head and looked at Rita with a loopy grin, and Rita was physically incapable of holding back her own resulting smile.

“You’re lucky you’re so cute.” Rita flicked to their purchased movies and turned on A League of Their Own for maybe the hundredth time. “I bet Alex doesn’t make Olivia watch Legally Blonde on repeat.”

“I’m pretty sure Olivia makes Alex watch Legally Blonde on repeat.”

“Did you hear they’re shooting a remake of this?” Rita asked, bringing her fingers up to thread through Casey’s hair, which she was beginning to realize had become a subconscious habit. “With lesbians in it this time.”

Casey sighed happily. “I love lesbians.”

“Don’t we all.” Rita kept scratching lightly at Casey’s scalp. “My uncle said something rather interesting.”

“Did he?”

“Scarlet Fever comes from untreated Strep.” She curled her fingers to cup Casey’s head, turning her a little to face her. “He said that you were probably managing your symptoms with over the counter meds for quite a while instead of seeing a doctor.”

Casey dropped her gaze. “I thought it was just allergies.”

Rita hooked a finger under her chin and tilted her head back up to meet her eyes. “You know better than that, little one. You need to take better care of yourself.”

Casey nodded, but to Rita’s mild horror, her eyes started welling up a little.

“Hey, hey, none of that,” Rita soothed. “I’m not mad at you.”

“I always cry when I get fevers,” Casey muttered, wiping furiously at her eyes. “It’s so embarrassing.”

“Don’t feel embarrassed,” Rita murmured. “Come here.”

Casey snuggled into Rita’s embrace, largely ignoring the movie they’d both seen so many times by now. Rita just held her close, humming softly and rubbing her back.

“You take such good care of me,” Casey mumbled, words muffled by Rita’s shoulder.

“I’ll always take care of my girl,” Rita responded, squeezing her tight and kissing her head. “Always.”

Casey hummed contentedly and they stayed like that for quite awhile, Rita’s sense of peace only growing when rain started quietly pattering on the windows.

“Rita?”

“Mhm?”

“If I breathed on Langan in chambers and he got infected, and then he sued me for— stop laughing, I’m serious— sued me for biowarfare, would you defend me in court?”

“Darling, I would take you a lot more seriously if you weren’t crying as you asked.”

“I can’t— I can’t control it! Having fevers just makes me cry.”

“I love you, Casey Novak.” Rita nuzzled into her hair. “Even though you try to kill my colleagues.”

“I love you too, Daisy,” Casey responded with a sweet grin. “Even though you work for the dark side.”

“Be nice to me or you’re not getting any more ice pops.”

Casey’s resulting pout had Rita out of bed to get her another not even minutes later.

[poppletonink]

BOOK REVIEW: Memphis - Tara M. Stringfellow

★★★★☆ - 4 stars

"Miriam can provide for Miriam"

In the Summer of 1995, ten-year-old Joan, her mother (Miriam), and her younger sister (Mya) escape her father's vicious and violent temper. In doing so, they return to Miriam's childhood home - a home in Memphis, a home with her half-sister August. However, when they arrive there, Joan finds that though she does not remember much from her short time in Memphis as a child, she finds that she does remember her cousin Derek, and she does remember what he did to her seven years prior. Whilst escaping into her artwork and meeting the enigmatic characters of Memphis, she unravels the history of three generations of her family - the dramas, the sacrifices, the love - in order to find her own way of healing.

Stringfellow weaves her writing in a beautiful, meticulous manner, leaving nothing unsaid whilst retaining the fluidity and allure of a poet's masterpiece. The gorgeous setting descriptions in Memphis were astounding. They were descriptions that make you feel as though you are standing right where the characters stand, right in their place, experiencing the beauty vicariously through them.

Though the writing is wonderful and a delightful indulgence for any reader, Memphis does deal with a lot of dark subject matter. It discusses topics such as rape and domestic abuse and it doesn't hold back in anger when discussing said topics - in fact, its handling of these topics is one of the many reasons to love this book. Nevertheless, it must be noted that the discussions of these topics through the strong black women we follow as readers, may be triggering for people, and I would recommend reading a trigger warning list before jumping headfirst into this amazing book.

Simply put, Memphis is like a modern Toni Morrison novel: a feminist generational saga that explores the experiences of black women worldwide. It tells a tale of hurt and healing, and following your passions and dreams even if it seems impossible. It discusses the importance of family and how sometimes we hurt the people we love most. The thing about Memphis is that it delves into these topics so incredibly well; I am in awe.