#marketing based insults

[the-lily-blooms-late]

Toothpaste advertisement, collar ad men

[specialagentartemis]

On comp titles- I will not trust a publisher to do this. This only works if it is organic recs. Not sure if that was the data you were looking for, but this makes a difference to me for some reason. One feels like "I am trying to sell you something that is a reach at best/will be forgotten by next year" (with large publishers). With organic recs from friends/online blogs, if someone tells me the new series they got into is like something else I enjoyed, I assume they are looking out for me and want me to enjoy the story.

Yeah, when I said “comp titles,” I was explicitly thinking about the official marketing, because that’s a specifically marketing term. I mean when “like X meets Y!” or “perfect for fans of Z!” as printed on the actual back cover of the book or in the official blurb. Because this is really, really common for genre fiction, and it usually annoys me in its vagueness and frequent inaccuracy.

Like, “perfect for fans of Murderbot!” means “the protagonist is a robot,” nothing more, in my experience—which, like, I could tell from the blurb. This adds nothing. And in fact is likely to disappoint me if I’m expecting it to be like Murderbot, but it’s about a robot finding its humanity by falling in love, or something. But Murderbot is trendy, so a ton of sci-fi books get comped to it now, regardless of if they’re anything like it or not. Back in the day, every children’s fantasy got comped to Harry Potter, every YA dystopia got comped to The Hunger Games. This tells me nothing the blurb does not already and also makes me think the publisher thinks their audience is stupid.

This is, in my eyes, a wholly different process from people you know giving you recommendations based in books they like or books they know you like. Independent readers and reviewers, too. That’s a valuable process—because they’re usually gonna say what about the book was similar and why you might like it! And the better they know you, the better they probably know what you like and why.

I was specifically asking about the marketing process because it came up in discussion with a friend who’s pitching a book for publication and is being asked for comps to provide the publisher for demographic marketing.

[phoward89]

Based on this ask

You work as an aide in the Presidential Palace. It's not your cup of tea per say, but it's a job. A job with crappy pay, but a job nevertheless.

Your father was so proud of you for getting the job after your fall out with your ex. Yea, after you broke up with Odysseus Odair there was some tension at work, since you worked on the marketing team for his father's luxury cruise line company. So, you quit your job. You had to find a new one and a new place too, since your breakup had turned your life upside down.

Your father offered to let you move back home, but you wanted your independence; turned down his offer. He did help you find a new apartment and pay your deposit along with the first month's rent.

And after scouring the help wanted ads and job posting boards, you received a call for an interview for an office aide position in the Presidential Palace you applied for. You went to the interview and got hired right on the spot.

But, although you work in the Presidential Palace you've never come face to face with President Coriolanus Snow.

Or at least you haven't until the day you're running late.

The line in the coffee shop was ridiculously long. So long, that by the time you get your morning coffee you're a few minutes late for work. And, since you don't have a car, you have to run in heels to the Presidential Palace to prevent yourself from being too late.

As if 10 minutes late isn't bad enough.

But you're afraid of getting fired. You really need your job as an aide. Your savings account isn't very large, so if you lost your job you'd be screwed when it came to paying the rent.

So, you run a few blocks in your black kitten heels- paper coffee cup tightly held in your hand. You feel a sense of relief as you reach the large wrought iron gates and the hedges that surround the palace that you work in. Quickly, you rush thru the open gate and down the long pathway that leads to the large ornate entrance doors of the Presidential Palace.

The grip on your paper coffee cup is like a vice as you scurry inside of the palace. Your heels loudly click against the marble floor as you rush down the huge hallway, heading towards the fork in the road that’ll lead to your closet of an office that's right next to Chief of Staff Festus Creed’s office.

You're speed walking and just turned the corner to your office whenever you smack right into a towering solid wall of a man. You wobble slightly, nearly twisting your ankle due to your heels, and accidentally crush your paper coffee cup against whoever you ran into. The hot latte spilled onto your hand, your white blouse, and the jacket of whomever you accidentally bumped into.

“Watch where you're going, you clumsy, silly girl.” Berated a smooth, but low baritone.

You look up to apologize to the man you accidentally collided with, only to come face to face with the President of Panem himself.

President Coriolanus Snow.

And was he even more handsome in person then he was on tv, posters, and campaign ads. Platinum blonde hair, perfectly slicked back in a coif, striking icy blue eyes, clean cut angular jaw as sharp as a diamond, prominent nose, tall with broad shoulders and a thin waist; one that would be considered sluttty- President Snow was the whole package.

And as your bad luck would have it, you just collided with him and accidentally split your entire flimsy cup of morning coffee on him. Oh, how embarrassing.

To say you're flustered and embarrassed would be an understatement. You wish that the floor would open up and swallow you whole.

Feeling like you’re currently under a microscope, you ramble out an apology of, “I'm so sorry, Mister President. I was rushing and didn't see you.”

“Yes, well, you just ruined my sports coat by not paying attention. It's a Tigris design and now I'll be attending a very important luncheon looking like a fool because I can't wear it.” President Snow complained, his voice cold and insulting.

“I'm so sorry; I can always buy you a new one so you won't be embarrassed about having a stained jacket during your luncheon.” You offer, feeling horrible for ruining President Snow’s suit jacket.

“Very well, go buy me a new jacket.” President Snow tells you in an aggravated tone. “Tell Tigris at her boutique that you need a man’s medium sports coat in royal maroon.” He instructs you before walking past you with regal grace.

Great…

Now you have to go out and buy a jacket that'll most likely deplete your savings. All because you accidentally spilled your morning latte on the president; ruined his jacket.

You step into a posh boutique and immediately start to hear your checkbook crying. Oh boy, the atmosphere just reeked of high end couture; of things you'd never be able to buy. But here you are, in a place you can't afford to buy President Snow a replacement jacket.

A tall, slender woman with warm blue eyes and a few black streaks in her otherwise light blonde hair approaches you. Her plum painted lips smiled as she greeted you with, “Hi, are you looking for something in particular? I have a few pieces that would look fabulous with your complexion and hair color.”

“Oh, I'm not here for myself. I'm just here to buy a men's jacket.” You tell the woman, that you assume is Tigris from how her hair’s styled.

“Are you looking for something in particular for your partner?” The fashionista asked while leading you towards the men’s section of the store.

“A royal maroon sports coat in a medium.” You tell Tigris what President Snow told you to in order to get his replacement coat.

She nods as goes to a rack that's against the wall where a bunch of jackets are. You see her go to one of the lower racks where jackets are in various shades of red. Tigris skims thru the jackets, only to pull one out that's a perfect match for the one you accidently ruined.

And when Tigris tells you she'll ring up your purchase you know it's time to walk to the gallows; to accept the syphoning of your savings.

Although you work in the Presidential Palace as an aide you've never been in his office. Yes, you knew exactly where it was, but never had a reason to go into it. Your boss, Festus, was the Chief of Staff so he was the one that went into the office for things.

And you should be knocking on President Snow’s office door, considering you need to give him his new jacket, but you can't do that. You're still embarrassed by the incident this morning and, to be completely honest, the platinum haired president intimidated you with his stoic, cold demeanor. Thankfully, you're friends with President Snow's secretary, Leo Davis.

The man's nice and befriended you in the staff’s break room during lunch shortly after you started working for the Snow administration. He's a family man and gives out good advice.

“Leo, I need you to give this to President Snow.” You tell the lanky man, who's sitting behind a desk a few yards away from the large mahogany door of the president’s office, as you place the boutique bag on his desk.

Looking between you and the bag, Leo asks, “What is it?”

“It's a new maroon jacket for President Snow. I bought it to replace the one I accidentally ruined by spilling coffee on it.” You honestly tell Leo, who just nods.

“I’ll give it to him.” Leo assures you.

“Thanks.” You gratefully tell him before pivoting on your heel and going back to your own wing of the Presidential Palace to work in.

“Coriolanus, here's the replacement jacket that you made Y/N buy you.” Leo tells his boss, the President of Panem, as he walks into the office with the Tigris Boutique bag in his hand raised high up in the air for the most important politician in the country to see.

Coriolanus nods. Gesturing to a sitting chair in the corner, he says, “Please, put it over there.”

“Tigris is your cousin, you should've just called her for a new jacket instead of sending Y/N out to buy you one with her own money.” Leo tells his boss while going over to the corner chair and setting the bag down on it.

“She offered to buy me the jacket to make amends for foolishly colliding into me and ruining my sportscoat with spilt coffee.” The president defended himself against his secretary. Honestly, the cold blonde didn't see the problem in letting you buy him the jacket. You offered, after all.

“Y/N can't afford the fashions in your cousin's store. She's borderline broke despite being the daughter of Colonel Javani Halvir.”

“Colonel Javani Halvir's daughter works here? On my staff?”

“Yes.” Leo nods. “She's an aide for your friend and Chief of Staff, Festus Creed.”

“Send for Festus, I want to know everything about Miss Y/N.” Coriolanus orders Leo, causing the man to just nod and do as he's told.

President Coriolanus Snow found out very little about you from both Leo and Festus. Just surface level stuff, but nothing he truly wanted to know. The president want to know every single thing about you.

Apparently, hearing that you're the daughter of his late father's bestfriend (who had been deployed between a couple of district bases after the war) and stirred a lowkey obsession over you inside of Coriolanus soul. The cold hearted man never thought he'd meet anyone with a link to his past, a link to a time before the war. But then he met you in a whirlwind of colliding bodies and spilt coffee in a hallway.

Coriolanus, having a teeny tiny obsession with you, began to stalk you. He even felt bad about ordering you to buy him a new jacket since you truly couldn't afford it. Your purchase at Tigris' boutique had drained most of your savings.

Yes, he used his closeness with Livia Cardew to scour through bank records until he found your account.

But, although he felt bad about the jacket, the president wasn't going to reimburse you the money. He was too proud to do that. Coriolanus had an image to uphold and admitting he made a mistake in allowing you to spend your own money on that royal maroon sportscoat would destroy his image. President Snow's a cold, callous, and calculated man; nothing can change that.

He won't let it.

But, to make up for the whole jacket incident, Coriolanus does leave a large cup of coffee on your desk on morning. And under your cup’s a napkin with a tiny note scribbled on it in his flawless flourish.

Miss Y/N, please accept this coffee in replacement of the one our collision made you spill on me the other day. Please, come by my office at noon. We need to talk.

Coryo

Tags: @kuroosbby001 @purriteen @poppyflower-22 @meetmeatyourworst @whipwhoops @bxtchopolis @readingthingsonhere @savagenctzen @ryswritingrecord @erikasurfer @tulips2715 @universal-s1ut @thesmutconnoisseur @squidscottjeans @sudek4l @wearemadeofstardust0 @mashiromochi @gracieroxzy @belcalis9503 @shari-berri @aoi-targaryen @whiteoakoak @spear-bearing-bi-witch @gisellesprettylies @loverandqueenofdragons @qoopeeya @mfnqueen1 @permanentlyexhaustedpigeon88 @v-love @swiftieblyth @joyfulyouthlover @princess-harvey @chxrrybomb22 @marvel-hiddles-stark @xjinnix @devils-blackrose @zombicupcake3 @jacesvelaryons @tempt-ress

[local-hellhound-steals-spaghetti]

Sh*t has hit the fan in equestrian sport and I genuinely wonder if this is the beginning of the end of it's social license to operate.

I used to respect Charlotte Dujardin as "one of the kinder riders out there". Sadly it seems like this was all just marketing. She just happened to have a horse like Valegro that tolerated her harsh handling (she described him as "hard mouthed" which is a pretty good indication that he had poor training to start with).

But she was the golden girl of dressage and the UK's darling of the sport. Now the curtain is peeled back to reveal casual whipping of a horse's legs over 24 times, commenting how the whip "doesn't whip hard enough."

Methodical and not at all seeming angry or disregulated while the 15 year old on the panicked horse's back cries out. This is not a one off. It's a technique. I've seen it before. Instuctors that chase after "lazy" horses in riding schools with a whip so that the horse "doesn't get away with it."

What about horses getting chased around a round yard with a whip until rearing in panic and lathered up in sweat? I've seen that too, during an equine science program where we were supposed to be learning how to break in weanlings.

It just happens to be a Olympic gold medalist doing it and getting caught.

In the article it says "you can't force a 400-500kg animal to do something." You absolutely can and horses are regularly forced into things they don't want to do. They're flighty prey animals. They say "no" pretty clearly in competition rings but then the whip comes out, the spurs go on and the horse shuts down. Despite the blue tongues from lack of oxygen, mouths strapped shut with tight nosebands, bits that they can't escape from, froth and blood in their mouths, they continue. Because they have no choice.

When your training principle relies on negative reinforcement and positive punishment, escalation like this inevitably occurs. When your training principle is based in domiance, on "not letting them get away with it" and on "making them do it", this is where it goes. The horse's autonomy and feelings diminished into "naughty" or "just trying to be lazy" ... not fear or pain or just a simple struggle to do something they're not physically able to do.

And it becomes normalised, laughed off and accepted, especially when a gold medalist Olympian does it.

The only reason this is a scandal is because an elite rider got caught doing it. But this is not a one off or a "bad apple" this is what the entire traditional horse training model is based on.

The FEI is making a big show of this because they want to look tough on horse welfare so the Olympics doesn't throw out Equestrian sport. But just wait until the dressage kicks off. We will see the same tense, stressed out horses, toe flicking and hollow with hop-step piaffes that are an insult to the Classic masters of old.

The sport of dressage will crash and burn if it continues on its current trajectory. Equestrian sport will follow as a whole when the public realises these are not animals "enjoying their jobs". Unless the FEI allows for a huge paradigm shift where people can compete tackless and use positive reinforcement (actual +R and not the pathetic pat on the neck they pass off as +R), the sport will fall to ruin and the elites will have only themselves to blame.

[asharaks]

the vision for rivain: instead of an organised faction of good-guy treasure hunters, the lords of fortune are a much looser organisation; not so much a tight-knit group of friends as a network of fences, buyers and suppliers, informally referred to as the “lords of fortune” for their reputation as led by the principles of profit above anything. the lines each “lord” is willing to cross varies as they don’t have a unifying ethos, but it’s a market with a reputation for graverobbing, theft of valuable artefacts and other ethically dubious procurement of goods, and its atmosphere and structure are heavily influenced by the blending of cultures — rivain is a coastal country with a history of occupation iirc, and they have better relations with the qun than other countries in thedas; things are more fluid, cultures are less defined and tend to bleed together. they’re also a country with a long history of mage tolerance and reverence for magic, so less chantry presence, more free trade and more open trading in goods that are frowned upon elsewhere, such as spell reagents and body parts for use in necromancy and blood magic. taash's mother fled to rivain and is a contact for the lords but taash herself isn't one; notably, the lords are neither the only trading network in rivain nor the largest, and more reputable traders abound along the coastal towns available to explore. 

rivain itself is not represented solely by an uninhabited beach and a gladiatorial arena. instead, while you find taash on a dragon hunt along the coast, rivain is first represented as a thriving coastal city with a significant population of free mages, seers, qunari and tal-vashoth, with whom dialogue can be initiated about their varied opinions on the state of the city and surrounding area. the dragon hunt with taash is characterised by discussion of dragon hunting as a sacred practice to qunari (more on this later!), with taash emphasising the spiritual and cultural importance of dragons to qunari; they are insulted by the implications of killing a dragon for profit, and take a defensive stance about it, but will later admit they were planning to profit off killing it: having grown up isolated from qunari culture, while they are aware of dragon hunting as a sacred practice, they’re unfamiliar with the practical rituals surrounding use of the downed dragon’s body.

after successfully baiting the dragon, you fight it for a while, before it overwhelms the party and you’re forced to retreat; taash is frustrated, but admits she’s never actually successfully killed a high dragon. you head back to the city, where the lords of fortune contact is unimpressed by the failure to bring back loot, and taash takes offense: before things can get violent, isabela steps in, introduces herself, and offers more useful contacts in exchange for rook and taash’s help dealing with a group of slavers moving qunari slaves to tevinter off the rivain coast. as a known pirate, she can’t get legitimate crew and since she won’t participate in slavery, the lords of fortune won’t help her without a solid promise of reward. lord of fortune rooks here get some unique dialogue regarding frustration about certain practices within the lords. you and taash help her free the slaves, and open up a new faction merchant and base area.

rivaini culture is depicted here as a blend of mercenary and spiritual, with a lot of npcs expressing a range of religious beliefs, including unconventional approaches to andrastianism, followers of the qun, rivaini seers, and dalish elves. the city carries a very different atmosphere to both treviso and minrathous, with a more mixed class and caste system, fewer templars and guards, and a strong sense of movement, as merchants and traders move in and out of the city. quests can be given by a range of npcs, including tal-vashoth, qunari, dalish elves, seers, and human citizens.

the primary quest, given by bela, is to retrieve a cursed artifact stolen by another subfaction of the lords of fortune: when you bring it back and have it appraised by taash’s mother, you find it’s an elven artifact that’s been damaged. isabela recommends taking it back to merrill at the veil jumpers, and gives you a note to pass on on her behalf too. taash will volunteer to come with you of her own free will, having heard about the blighted dragons at minrathous and treviso: taash’s mother tries to discourage this, but they insist.

also, bela gets clothes.

(previous - arlathan and the veil jumpers)

(next - the wetlands & the wardens)

[fairycosmos]

why are people always so condescending about job searching lmaooo as if every company in the world isnt looking for every way they can to reduce how many full time positions they have. its not 2010 anymore

i know lmfao ive noticed whenever i talk about jon hunting both irl and on here ppl are weirdly snarky and passive aggressive about it and it's like??? how out of touch with the reality of working class people and the job market can you be??? it's a fucking hellhole out here and it's such an insult to act like job seekers just aren't trying hard enough or just aren't good enough. you could have a fucking PhD and still get rejected from an entry level/ temp/ part time position like it's fucking mad and nonsensical and fairness doesn't even come into it. these companies do not careeeeee. also ppl like that are being such good little capitalists by judging someone based on their employment lol i get second hand embarrassment for them atp like you are a dancing monkey

[lizardsfromspace]

Will always be frustrated at how many people said "there shouldn't be fiction about the pandemic! Movies made during the Depression didn't acknowledge the Depression, after all!" even though

They very much did

The lack of political films...was the Hays Code? Pre-Code films were political, and that, too, was barred by the Code. It wasn't a choice or accident, it was suppression.

Notably, the Hays Code cancelled several attempted anti-Nazi films in the 1930s, under provisions against "insulting" another country (read: getting American films banned from the German market). They didn't allow an explicit one until 1939 and they only allowed that one bc it was based on a real FBI case. Maybe we should acknowledge that was going on instead of deciding that was voluntary and good and should be mimicked actually

[not-terezi-pyrope]

Recently saw someone chastising a friend on their commission post complaining about them charging too little, and how doing so is an insult to the value of artists' work, when said friend is struggling to make ends meet while living in a 3rd world country.

I have pretty much always taken issue with that talking point, which gets around a lot. Not "artists should value their work and charge their worth" but specifically "if you are 'undercharging' by my standards then you are hurting other artists by being too good at being competition".

Individual artists are not to blame for the economy, and this mindset fails to take into account pretty basic economic concepts like "different countries have different cost values for goods and services and sometimes someone is selling their work from somewhere that is not the US" and "capitalism is in fact a violent coercive force that pressures people to set their prices based on the state of the market vs their own desperation and need".

"Don't you dare charge so little for your work, third world artist, because other artists who are privileged to be able to charge more might lose work for it" feels like an incredibly entitled worldview. The discourse around the value of art-as-labour is genuinely so toxic sometimes, to the point of hurt its own.

Anyway, if somebody wanted to pay my friend $1000 to do a three second animation then please go ahead and do it, unfortunately I cannot afford to but if you can then it'd be more than worth that amount. But I sure bet nobody complaining in that thread is going to do it.

[confessions-of-a-monster-freak]

To the root of the problem - Hanta Sero

Prompt: “You are one insult away from starting a war” WC: 5647

Synopsis: You have a weather manipulation quirk (Can control cloud formations and weather-related phenomena) and own a flower and plant shop. 

This is set after the end of the manga, Sero is 24 in this. 

This is the first of (probably) many prompt challenges of mine. This took me about three days of writing, so we'll see how long it takes for me to get through my little jar of prompts.

As always, notes and reblogs are appreciated <3 (I know people here don't like the like system cause it doesn't get it out there on people's feeds, but I don't care! I like knowing someone enjoyed or "bookmarked" My stuff!)

Warnings: Snarky jerks.

This was the third time this week that the plant display in the front of the shop had been vandalized, destroyed, or even knocked around. This was driving me nuts, I didn’t have the money for cameras, but I was contemplating it if I needed it for sure. At this point I was just contemplating sitting outside my shop for hours waiting to see who did it.

I was trying so hard to make the front of the shop look enticing to people, to get more business. Or even just have people come in and look around and remember that my shop existed. But this happening was really dampening my hopes. Several thoughts that competitors might be doing it to try and drive me out of the market had crossed my mind. I tried to keep those thoughts away. There had to be some good florists out there that weren’t cruel.

“I have no idea who's doing it,” I lamented to one of my workers, or better yet my only worker. This florist and plant shop was a dream come true, but now it was starting to turn into a nightmare. I originally wanted to be a hero, to help people. But the turbulence that came with my quirk made me rethink, to the point that I just wanted to see people smile. Leading me to open this shop. To see people smile when presented with a customized bouquet, or even a new plant of their own.

“I mean you could just call an agency and see if they’d help,” He suggested. Reaching up and putting a plant away.  We were taking the damaged plants from outside and trying to keep them out of reach. I held a poor aloe that had been shaken out of its pot. I'd just tried to salvage it but I had a feeling it wasn’t going to make it. If it did it was going to become the shop's “Luckiest Plant”, replacing the snake plant that had been set on fire due to a cigarette butt being thrown into it.

I thought about what he said, my sign had also been shattered. That was going to come out of my own pocket instead of the shop's budget. It was too much to weigh it against the shop as is. Even the orders for more flowers were going to cut it close. I thumbed over one of the aloe leaves. Feeling the cold smoothness of the exterior before my fingers traced over the spines.

“What pro would sit outside a floristry shop to see who's kicking my plants over?” I expressed eventually, rolling my eyes, setting the plant up on a shelf, and hoping it didn’t die. I sometimes hated that I didn’t have a plant-based quirk, especially since my grandpa had one. But what could I say? I got lucky with weather manipulation. If you could call having to think every emotion through luck.

“An extremely bored one” He countered and went into the back. Leading me to sigh as I took my place behind the counter. I didn’t have any orders today, if I were to have one I could maybe relax. They always seemed to help me calm down. I was hoping that my sour mood wouldn’t result in me drenching the back of the counter again. I’d once gotten so upset that I’d caused a storm inside the shop. That was a nightmare to manage. It caused the only other employee I had to quit and refuse to come back.

I sat behind the counter, writing down some potential arrangements for the next seasons of florals. I needed to get on top of these as well as get ahead of the game. It was difficult. Especially since the people I was competing with were people with plant-related quirks. Not weather manipulation. It made caring for the plants easier, that was definite. But it didn’t mean I could grow the amount of flowers or plants I needed instantly. I had to order from gardeners, and whilst they appreciated the old way of business, my pockets did not.

I heard the door open and waited. My face still looking at my notebook as I scribbled out one of the flowers. Poinsettias were so hard to style, but I wanted to try one that didn’t involve Christmas. I was thinking that something in late autumn would look good with a poinsettia in it, I just had to figure out the other flowers before I could test. Those fake florals really did come in handy.

Normally people would look around for a bit before approaching the counter. We rarely got new customers. I would regularly get doubted for my abilities, especially since I didn’t have plant manipulation or something similar. I still very much appreciated the regulars I had, they constantly praised me for my work and tried to keep it as regular as their salaries would allow. 

“Uh…Hey” I looked up at the voice, spotting a man awkwardly standing in front of me. He looked about my age and seemed strangely familiar. Like I had seen him somewhere before, but I couldn’t quite put my finger on where I knew him from.

“Can I help you?” I asked, waiting for a response but he seemed hesitant to say anything. I paused and shot a quick glance up, figuring my quirk had manifested again.  “Sorry,” I said as I noticed the cloud that was swirling. A subconscious habit was my quirk would tell my mood. Such as now the turbulent thunderstorm cloud was voicing my displeasure. “Subconscious habit” I added as an afterthought. He then seemed more comfortable speaking. I forced the cloud to change to a fluffy one to try and keep him from seeming discouraged about talking.

“I wanted to come in and apologize, I’ve been the one knocking over your display” He started and then stopped himself. Apparently, the cloud was back. I could now feel my hair moving. I was certain a small funnel had started to form. I tried to keep my face calm and even out my breathing. I did not need this to turn into a repeat of flooding the store. I felt it start to slow down and shrink and listened as he continued.

“For some reason every time I patrol here villains come the same way. I try to steer them away and they won’t budge. They run into it, I run into it. They’ve thrown some plants at me too” He explained, trying to speed up his explanation probably due to fear of the suddenness of my quirk. 

I felt it suddenly stop, “You’re a pro hero?” I inquired, feeling it start to disperse. Leave it to me to assume that it was someone just being spiteful, and hateful. I felt awful that I had made such a harsh assumption straight off the bat. As well as not hearing him out fully before my emotions got the better of me.

“Yes, Cellophane” He answered and stuck out his hand. “I came to apologize and offer to pay for the damages” He added, I shook his hand and then turned around to the shelf of plants that needed extra attention. The only ones I was concerned about were the Moth Orchids and the Aloe. I let out a hum, trying to remember if any other plants had been damaged. 

I paused, thinking about it. Before sitting back down and clicking on the prices for the damaged plants. “I thought about staying up late to see who was wrecking my front” I started with a laugh. “Rory back there said I should ask a pro to check it out” I continued, finishing the prices before showing him the total. Cellophane laughed, paying for the plants and setting his card back into his wallet. Cellophane was one of the few heroes I didn’t hear much about. I knew he was around, I’d seen him on the news a few times. But I had no idea that he was regularly in my area.

“I thought it was one of my competitors honestly” I voiced, standing up to move the damaged plants around so they wouldn’t be sold and could be monitored. If anything I was going to take them home to watch them. I stretched to grab the aloe before turning around and setting it on the counter.

“What makes you think your competitors would trash your store?” He inquired, tilting his head as I moved pots around. Setting them on the counter so I could move them to the back and have Rory take over front duty for a bit. I needed to set them under some UV light and monitor them whilst I was at the store today.

“I’m the only florist shop in this town that isn’t owned by someone with a plant-based quirk” I answered, looking up before snapping my fingers and the plants around the shop now getting their own personal rain cloud to be watered. I was going to do it manually since it’d be a slow day. But I decided to showcase my quirk for a bit.

“The other shops are owned and managed by people with plant-based quirks. They also don’t seem to like me that much” I added as an afterthought. I’d only ever met one of my competitors and that was by chance. They were very rude and judgmental. I never went back, even to that part of the city.

“Awesome” He commented, walking up to one of the plants and poking the cloud. Making me laugh a bit. Some people were fascinated with my quirk, others were wary. It could be difficult to control, especially for a young kid who would throw temper tantrums and cause a catastrophic thunderstorm as a result.

“Comes in handy, I can’t grow the plants without time, but I can care for them better than others” I admitted, stopping some of the clouds and flicking the light to give some UV to them. I knocked on the door to the back to catch Rory’s attention. Hearing shuffling as he opened the door and I shoved the plants into his arms. “Put these on my desk please,” I asked and he grumbled but relented. 

“Thank you for saying it was you. If you need flowers you know where to go” I said to Cellophane as he was observing some of the plants. He turned and offered me a smile, I then ducked into the back room to have Rory take point whilst I could take inventory of the plants we had and others I’d have to order.

As I sat down at the desk I reached over to the aloe, gently thumbing over its leaves. Letting out a heavy breath I settled into the desk. I’d yet to get a massive order for arrangements. Most of the orders I had that I got to do were from the elderly who wanted flowers for their significant others, or families who wanted gravesite flowers. I needed to change that. 

I started looking into up and coming festivals where I could potentially get out there. There were a few, but I’d need some more money to get a booth. I’d have to dig through my parent’s place for the tables and how to set it up. But it was possible. I was just hoping the regulars would come soon.

Days later I was outside of the shop, taking a small break to bask in the sun for a moment. The back room could get quite dark, with only the UV lamps and the small light bars I used for arrangements back there. The sun was welcome as I took in a breath and felt the weather shift around me. The clouds that had started to block the sun totally shifted away. I smiled, to think I’m capable of causing a hurricane, and yet can hardly control the subconscious effects of my quirk.

I walked back into the store and started to tend to the plants hanging off the walls of the shop. Some needed to be pruned, others needed watering. I was going to take my time today, slow it down, and keep my thoughts straight. Rory had called out due to a family emergency so it was just me. As much of a help as he was, Rory could be behind on things.

I started to snip at one of the snake plants, removing dead leaves, or ones that would compromise its growth. I heard the bell jingle signaling I had a customer. I turned over my shoulder with a “Hello!” shooting a quick look before going back to my pruning. Then I did a double take and turned around. Cellophane was back, I wasn’t expecting to see him back this soon, or even at all for that matter.

“Hey, I need some help making a bouquet” He started, approaching me again. “I am…Clueless as to what they like and figured you might be able to help” He said, tilting his head at what I was doing. “What are you doing to the plant?” He asked, picking up one of the pruned leaves.

“Pruning” I answered, “When a plant creates more leaves than it can handle, or uses too much energy, parts of it start to die. I’m getting rid of both dying leaves or leaves that shouldn't be growing yet because they are still too young” I answered, “And absolutely. I don’t have many flowers in stock at the moment, but I do have some” I tacked on at the end. Walking to the counter where I stored the shears in the drawer before pulling out my floral catalog. One of the few things I enjoyed doing other than arranging flowers, was making binders filled with things. I had one of the mock arrangements, one with seasonal arrangements, and of course, the catalog of flowers I had access to and could buy.

“First date?” I inquired, flipping through to the back where I had an in-stock index. It took more time to do a weekly index, but it was worth it. And now I could properly see how many flowers I actually had. I was correct in assuming I had a small supply, but it was still enough for a bouquet. If maybe just by a smidge.

“Not exactly, more as a gesture of wanting a date,” He said leaning over the counter as I flipped back to the actual catalog. “Any suggestions?” He asked, looking as I marked pages.

“Most florists would tell you roses, but I say they are just trying to scam you as those are the most expensive flowers” I started, “Personally I love gardenias and camellias. But for you, since it's a gesture,” I continued, ducking down again and pulling out an almanac I’d written out. There were many different flower symbols and I had to comb through them. I decided a hard copy would come in handy. I quickly flipped through to my romantic cheat sheet.

“Gardenias, calla lilies, hibiscus, and some ferns and aster” I stated and then looked up to find that in the book. Once I did I flipped through them and snuck a quick glance at my index. I had them in stock. I typically used them in some of my regular bouquets, so in my mind they were worth keeping on hand.

“I’ll trust your word, you are the florist after all” He laughed making me smile, I normally didn’t get much freedom with these things. I was excited to get to do this. Especially since it was a pro and I didn’t get much business at all. 

“Let me ring you up and I can go get that all fixed up if you don’t mind waiting?” I offered, sliding the binders away and grabbing a pen to write everything down on my hand. I barely kept paper around the store. It always ended up getting lost or even damp by some stray rain droplets from my clouds.

He nodded and I scribbled the flowers away onto my palm before I typed it into the register. “It might be a bit if someone else comes in. It’s just me today” I added as he paid and it went through. I put the binders away and tucked the pen into one of my pockets.

“I’ll make sure no one steals anything” He jested, laughing at the face I made. Quickly I ducked into the back of the shop to pull the flowers out. As I pulled the tubs out, I balanced them as best I could before setting them on my workstation. Then I flailed for a minute to find the bouquet paper and ties.  Once that happened I took a deep breath to focus on my quirk. If I tried hard enough I could adjust the temperature. It was hard, but I could do it if I focused enough.

I felt the back room heat up just slightly and pushed harder until it was more comfortable for me to work. It was really cold in the back of the store, especially due to the fridges that we had to keep the flowers fresh. It also was too expensive to run a heater back here for long periods. I wasn’t good with manipulating temperature all that much, but I could if I pushed myself hard enough.

I quickly pulled out flowers and gently woke them up with some stimulation. Laying them into the prepared paper and arranging them in the way I had in my head. Once I was sure they were set, I folded the paper over, grabbed some ribbon, and tied it the best I could into a bow. I wasn’t the best with fancy big bows, Rory was better than me at that, but it still looked pretty to me.

I grabbed the tubs of flowers and felt the temperature start to drop again as I lessened my focus on the temperature and more on not dropping my flowers. Once they were settled in the fridge again, I walked over to the table. Gently picking up the bouquet and walking out of the back to where I left Cellophane waiting.

“Here it is” I said and gently handed it over, watching his face morph into surprise at seeing it. He then properly grabbed it and tried to keep it from falling over. Or falling apart, but I made sure I tied it tight enough that it wouldn’t. At least I hoped it wouldn’t, but I knew I tied tightly, and had a good deal of trust in my skills.

“It looks…Amazing, holy cow,” He expressed, he had an awestruck look all over his face as he looked at the bouquet.  I smiled slightly at the expression. I still had a lot of growth to do with my arrangements. However, I had limited access to actual practice. Maybe I should advertise a course.

“I’m sure they’ll like it.” I insisted, “If this bouquet doesn’t get you two to start talking about a date, then I’ll try again” I jested, grinning as I picked my pruning shears up again. Once he left I’d start to prune again. Especially since it would be slow after this.

“Well then, I need to introduce myself properly if I’m going to be coming back here” He started, and again presented his hand to me. “Hanta Sero,” He said as I took his hand and shook it. I gave him my name, feeling that it was right to do so. As I pulled back my hand he took a look at the clock behind the counter before bidding me farewell.

After he left I got back to pruning, snipping away slowly through the shop’s plants. I kept running through if I should do that festival, and if any of the competitors would be there. I decided I’d ask for Rory’s opinion once he got back. Even if it was just a small booth I could still get myself out there. It wasn’t that large of a festival, but I was hopeful that I could maybe sell some of the propagated plants or even some small arrangements. 

The rest of the day went rather fast, I spent most of the day tending to the plants. Then the back half of it was creating an index of what I could bring to the festival. As well as how much I could make by getting myself out there. I’d need tables, tablecloths, and a sign for my shop. I was sure I could call upon some sort of crafting and creative energy to make one in a hurry if I needed to.

I did one last sweep of the shop as I stood at the door. Checking things off as I did. The UV lamps were set on their timer, and the back door was locked. The lights were off. All I needed to do now was lock the door and I’d be set for home. I opened the door and walked out, closing it behind me and locking up my store for the day.

I turned back around only to jump at the appearance of someone behind me. I took a step back but then realized it was Cellophane. In costume no less, he was clearly on patrol, or at least should be. Instead of being about keeping an eye on the streets in the early evening, he was standing outside of my store in full gear no less.

“Hi,” I laughed slightly, “Coming to make sure there are no plants to be thrown at you?” I teased lightly, earning a laugh from him. I didn’t realize how detailed his suit actually was, being this close made me question how flexible the material actually was. I wondered if it was sturdy enough to handle repeated ware if that was the case, that type of material would be good for my arranging table.

“Yes, and to do this” He jested slightly, then turned his tone more serious. Making me blink out of my thoughts as he brought out the bouquet he’d bought from me earlier. It was still in perfect condition. “I figured this would be a good bridge to friendship, and maybe a date” He grinned under his mask. He seemed a bit bashful at the notion but seemed pretty confident in his decision.

I took the bouquet from him and laughed softly, “Of course you’d go to the florist who you’re trying to impress” I laughed, holding onto the bouquet with a smile. Gently tucking it close to my body to keep it safe. “Well, you certainly have that bridge now. Drinks?” I offered, tilting my head. “Of course when you aren’t on patrol and when I’m not working” I added quickly considering he should be patrolling.

“Sounds good, number to contact you?” He inquired, I fumbled around for a second, trying to find a piece of paper and a pen before finding a pen and being presented with some tape. I raised a brow at that but wrote my number down and playfully stuck it on the side of his helmet. 

“That way you won’t lose it. See you around” I waved as I started to walk away, smiling as I now seemed to have a new friend. As well as probably a new customer.

The festival was finally here, I was buzzing with excitement as I set up with the help of Rory and Sero. Sero was insistent on helping me set up and at least be there to start the festival. Over the past week, we’d grown quite good friends. Sometimes meeting up for lunch, or drinks and dinner if he wasn’t working nights. It was nice to have him help too. His quirk helped greatly with hanging the sign and keeping my tablecloths on my tables.

“Is it wrong to not be nervous?” I asked aloud as I sat down on my chair. Grabbing my water bottle and taking a few sips. For once I didn’t feel anxious. I felt comfortable being out here in the booth, it could be that I was outside and not in a little shop.

“Yes,” Rory answered, dragging a cooler over. “But the good thing is you won’t accidentally zap me with lightning” He teased, glancing up at me as he dragged the cooler around. “I said I was sorry Nao!” I whined, using his actual name for once. I’d given him the nickname Rory because of his quirk. It was a pun really, he had a big cat quirk. One that gave him ears and a tail. But most importantly he could roar like one of those big cats. Hence the nickname “Rory”.

“That’s happened?” Sero asked with a slight laugh, he’d heard some of the horror stories that were associated with my quirk. He sat down next to me in Rory’s chair. Smiling at me before turning his attention to my employee. Setting his hand on top of mine. There hadn’t been an official title put to us. But I knew he had an intention of dating eventually. So for now, really good friends is what we call it.

“Yes, they’ve gotten so anxious that a thundercloud appeared and zapped me whilst I was walking near them. I didn’t even do anything!” He explained, leading to more laughter from Sero and me sighing. I knew he understood that it was an accident, but it was still slightly embarrassing that I didn’t have full conscious control of my quirk.

“Hey there aren't any clouds now, so you can’t say anything” I countered and he scoffed. His ears twitch as he settles the cooler around the back of the booth.  Standing back up straight as his tail flicked behind him. He crossed his arms and looked at me pointedly.

“Only because you’re making it to where there are no clouds” He argued back, taking a step back from the tent I rented. He was right on that part, it was supposed to be cloudy with little sun and a fair chance of rain today. However, I was determined to make this festival work today.

I gave up the fight and relaxed into my chair, we still had some time before the festival actually began. As well as the fact that Sero had some meetings to go to. He did promise he’d be back with lunch though. Resulting in some interesting conversation between all of us. Quirk-related or not, even some random stories from back in school before the people started to flood in, and Sero left.

Lunch was now upon us, and I was fixing my display. I’d actually been doing really well, people were interested in my arrangements, as well as my small aloe and snake plants that I’d been selling. I’d sold about half of my stock that I’d brought so far, and given out more business cards than I thought I would.

“I have to say, you were right, this was a good idea” Rory admitted, pulling out the crates of potted plants from under the table to help me restock. He’d been pessimistic about this turning out good, but so far we’d covered the rentals as well as the fee to be here in the first place, and we still had more money on top of that. I could actually buy more flowers now, or even some ads around town.

“I knew this would be good for us” I agreed, happily fixing my display and brushing some stray dirt off of the table. We hadn’t had any plants fall, or any pots break and I was now starting to be optimistic about selling out of my stock before the end of the festival, or getting close to it.

“So you sell plants” A voice called out from behind me, I turned to see a man in nice clothes. They weren’t out of place per se, but they were of a high quality. He looked to have some money, or at least appeared to have some money. Regardless he was still a potential customer.

“And floral items too. Though I don’t have many of those at the moment as those sold really fast” I answered with a smile, greeting the man. However, I did start to suspect something when I heard a low rumble of a growl from Rory. It was quiet, but there. Even if only I could hear it.

“Is there anything in particular you’d like?” I questioned, keeping in mind Rory’s growl. He normally didn’t have a reaction like that. But when he did it was his feline instincts telling him something was wrong. He’d yet to be wrong so far.

“I wanted to see what my competition was, apparently not much if you can’t grow your stock immediately,” He said, a small smirk on his face. So he was one of my competitors, he didn’t have to be snarky about it. I was starting to dislike this guy, I didn’t even know his name yet and I already had some disliking. What a way to introduce yourself.

“I can at least take care of my plants with individual attention” I retorted, trying to keep my temper even. The last thing I needed was to cause a scene. Especially since I was outdoors. I continued to add my stock to the table, Rory had his eyes locked on the guy behind me. His ears were perked backward and his tail was starting to lash.

“That’s because you don’t have a flowing business. If you had a good business you wouldn’t have just one employee” He continued, and I was starting to grow annoyed. He had insulted my quirk first, then my business, and now my employee who I considered a friend. He was really pushing my buttons here.

“You are one insult away from starting a war” I warned, I was doing my best to focus on my plants. The succulents needed to be over here, closer to the setting sun. I could put the ivy and the snake plants on the other side. Focus on the plants, ignore him, and keep your emotions calm.

“A war you’d lose” I turned on my heel at that, gripping an aloe plant pot tightly in my hand. I walked up to the guy. My hand started to shake from the force I held the pot. I was surprised I didn’t crack or shatter it immediately.

“You are patronizing” A step forward, he took a step back. He furrowed his brow at my sudden approach, but there was no way I was stopping until I had said my piece, or gotten him to back the hell off.

“Snarky” Another step forward, and he took another step back. At this point, he started to look genuinely afraid. I didn’t consider myself scary in any regard, but maybe it was the fact I didn’t stop approaching him that did it.

“Narcissist who can’t see anything other than his own ego” By this point we were outside of my tent. “Who thinks he is better than everyone because he has a quirk that can make him good money. Well, I actually like being a florist, I’m not in it for the money like you, you selfish jerk!” I continued on my rant before I felt a hand on my shoulder, pulling me back.

“Calm down” It was Sero, he’d come back with his lunch. “You’re forming funnel clouds” He added, gently squeezing my shoulder. I could see out of my peripheral vision that he had his attention locked on the guy in front of me. Almost protectively in a sense. I looked up, seeing that I had in fact started to form a thunderstorm. Lightning was crackling in the clouds above me, as well as it had started to rotate ever so slightly.  I took in a deep breath, before exhaling out slowly. The clouds turned from deep grey to white slowly, and the rotation stopped as well. Before finally the cloud had dissipated completely and the blue sky was left behind.

“The next time you insult my business or my employee. I won’t stop it” I warned, glaring at the man who had pissed me off in the first place. He stood shell-shocked outside of my tent, seemingly stunned at my quirk, or the fact I did it subconsciously. I walked away from Sero and back into my tent where I took in some more calming breaths. Trying to keep my emotions stable so I didn’t cause a meteorological anomaly.

Sero came back in and wrapped an arm around my shoulders. “That was impressive” He expressed with a smile, making me shake my head before grabbing the bag he’d set on the table to get my lunch. “Seriously. You have a really amazing quirk” He complimented and rubbed my arm. “And that guy was just a jerk from the back half of what I heard” Rory scoffed at that, grabbing his own to-go box of food. “I have a much stronger word for him, but there are children present” He griped, opening the box and digging in. “I wish they would’ve let it form fully. I’d loved to have seen him running from a tornado, or even some lightning strikes” He added, making me laugh.

My business had increased almost tenfold after that incident, and I could finally see the man’s booth. Way further down than me, but now with limited customers compared to me. I was running out of stock even faster than I thought. Sero being there and handing out Cellophane autographs did help. But I felt pride in seeing the scowl on the man's face. I was finally on par with my competitors, and possibly. Just possibly, becoming a worthy competition to the other shops in the area.

[allwormdiet]

@yugonostalgia2019 Heehee your lb is really fun to read! This is extra funny to me bc on my first Worm read I HATED coil almost as much as you, but when i reread it he grew on me like very slimy mold haha. Fun things to notice: Leviathan seemed to be targeting Coil's base & the Travelers - perhaps the reason for coming to BB entirely? Second - remember how arc 7 Taylor goes on a paranoid rant about how conflict & shit always seems to go down at lunchtime? Notice how Coil asks Dinah about problems before lunchtime & drops his realities then? Not a coincidence :)))

Oh also want to self-indulgently talk about Coil's biggest personality trait/flaw: Hypocrisy. You noticed during the interlude & his speeches that he seems pretty self aware - he knows he's a bad person who enjoys torturing people, wanting power for his own sake right? But he has a self-assuredness too, that he views himself as a good employer, one who provides for his underlings & makes them want to work for him. A very stratch-your/mine-back mentality. Except… what happens when there's someone too valuable a subordinate & too dangerous independent? And if there's nothing Coil can offer them? What can he provide a middle schooler with decent parents to make her want to work for him?? Nothing. So, the mask comes off, the good employer self-image vanishes, & all that's left is power-hungry cruelty……

There's so many things about Coil that make me despise him, not least of which is the way he's an absolute goddamn creep about Dinah, but even if I didn't know that about him I think the foundation of the character, the thing that sends me into a gnashing fury, it's that he's uncool.

Coil is a goddamn criminal mastermind, a supervillain whose organization is held by everyone in the know to be one of the Top Three big dogs in Brockton Bay's underworld, and he doesn't even seem to have his mercenaries committing that many crimes out in the open. I actually don't even know why he's on the books as a supervillain, what crimes he's got on his head that put him in the same caliber as Lung and Kaiser and standing head and shoulders above the Merchants, or whether it's just the resources at his beck and call. He's ambitious, scheming, ruthless, with an air of sophistication. He's got a power that, while limited in certain ways, can be monstrously effective with careful planning.

...But then we get a good look at him and it turns out that all his grand ambitions are for petty greed, cruelty, and an obsession with control, an obsession he can't even blame on being a parahuman because his power is store-bought. His sophistication is a facade, he's incautious the moment it doesn't involve a threat of direct harm to himself. He has no guiding principles, he has no patience or loyalty or humility or anything that could be considered a redeeming feature.

Also, man has no taste and no passion. His costume is weird and he doesn't even bother coming up with a name for his organization, there's no aesthetic flair within a single inch of his soldiers' uniforms or in his underground lair. He's like if a box of bran flake cereal could defraud the stock market and was creepy about middle schoolers.

Like it feels almost even more insulting to me because I love the shit out of criminal mastermind types, I love the plotter in the shadows who pulls the strings and crushes their enemies without even being exposed, I have like multiple OCs who pull that kind of shit and one of them is even a supervillain. It's like catnip for me.

So I guess if we want to extend the simile, Coil is like if I went in for catnip and caught a mouthful of bleach, and also the bleach locked a child in its basement.

(Disclaimer: my stance on Coil in no way reflects how I feel about people who actually like him. If you get a kick out of this guy, that's fine, I don't get it but that's not for me to get, I just want to bite down on him as hard as I can and shake until his bones snap)

[ride-thedragon]

Something always grinds my gears about the narrative that hotd is a feminist telling from both the writers and the audience who use it as an insult because it chooses to neglect for the sake of naming the thing and relating to the culture the fact that feminism, especially in media can't be analysed by the definition alone.

Feminism occurs in both waves and theories. The writers and reviewers sight nothing but the name itself. Hotd isn't based in Marxist feminism or liberal feminism and I'm not entirely sure anyone who says it's feminist can tell me which wave it belongs to, what theory it is. This is a bigger issue with the trend of political critiques turning into buzz words and then depending on how the culture sees the word, into a marketing strategy to relate to the audience.

I know the hotd writers are guilty of this with the constant reference to American political figures and narratives when describing characters in such a concerning way.

I don't think that this is a problem with only this show but this show is falling short with audiences because what they deem as feminist rather than tying themselves to any definition outside of the cultural one and then applying their own perceptions of feminism into the narrative.

This leads to a lack of clear definition and a gross oversight, which in turn leads to a historically masculine space salivating over the failure of feminism and attempted intersectionalism as though it's the real thing.

House of the Dragon as it is written doesn't subscribe to feminism. What it does is have writers from the Imperialist West who are raised in an individualist society and the cultural influence of the waves of feminism recorded that they lived through and leaned towards based on personal experiences (sidenote I hate acting as though I know the writers personally, and can judge them as people, this is just a framework that can be applied to Americans.)

The writers have biases that influence what they write, which isn't inherently a bad thing, but because it's marketed as a feminist show, it's fundamentally failing its audience.

[cowpants147]

I can't sleep so I'm just laid here and I started thinking about the Foxes that go on to play exy professionally and what they'd do after retirement:

Andrew

I know for a fact that this interaction happened during Andrews last press event after his last match.

Reporter: so Andrew, now that you've officially retired, what are you gonna do now?

Andrew: I'm gonna be a stay at home dad.

Obviously the reporters run w it and suddenly everyone's trying to figure out when Andrew had kids and who with all the while he's at home with the cats aka his children all day.

I also think he either starts coaching exy at a school or at a youth centre because he recognises the out that exy gave him and he's great with kids.

Neil

Neil's got too much of a mouth on him to go quietly into retirement so I definitely see him being a commentator and providing some of the highest praise and most iconic insults ever known to the sports channels.

I feel like he'd miss actually playing though so he'd probably become some kind of coach. Maybe even goes back to PSU to help Dan as assistant coach after Wymack retires.

Kevin

That boy was born and bred for his own sports related show. I like the idea of him and Jeremy hosting this exy post show where they go over everything that's happened in the week. Jeremy is ever positive, Kevin is harsher with his commentary but they've both got smiles made for prime time TV.

They have a 3rd on the panel reserved for a different special guest each week. Such special guests at one point include Neil, Wymack, and Andrew who only went on to see if he could get Kevin to crack and break character.

Matt

100% becomes a stay at home dad to his and Dan's actual human kids and their golden retriever. During this retirement press conference he says something about proudly being Dan's trophy husband.

Coach's his kids little league team, even if they're not playing exy. Makes homemade signs with the kids for when they go watch the Foxes play.

Buys Andrew a matching "best dad ever" mug the minute Andrew drops that line in his interview. When Neil teams up with Dan to coach the Foxes these two become random best buds, going out for food and and drinks together, sitting together at games, worldlessly teaming up to make sure Dan and Neil have lunch every day at practise.

+ Jeremy and Jean

The minute Jean retires he's done with exy. Jeremy goes on to do a shit ton of charity work and be on the weekly prime time exy show with Kevin but Jean is more than happy to stay out of the public eye.

They live on a farm or like in a super cute small town where nobody bothers them. Jean spends all day reading books, painting, takes up photography and becomes so good that he's hired by the locals for weddings, newborn pics, etc. He's a regular at the farmers market. Maybe if they live on a farm then he has his own stall selling eggs, jams, and family recipes that Jeremy passed down to him from the Knox family and that Jean has perfected over the years.

And they travel as much as they can! They have a second home in France and use that as their home base while they trav around Europe every chance they can get.

[cardierreh15]

Queenie’s Beehive

Happy Black History Month my Loves!!! Who do yall think this story is based off of?

***I do not give anyone permission to repost, translate or copy my work!!!

Warnings 18+: Seducting Behavior/Dancing.

Pairings: Napoleon Solo x Queenie Covington(Black!OC)

Description: When Solo & Illya’s Leads point them in the direction of a club, Solo turns on his charm to get a word with the infamous Queenie Covington

Word Count: 4.1K

Song: Virgo’s Groove by Beyoncé , It’s A Man’s, Man’s, Man’s World by James Brown

Side Note(s): I changed the time to accommodate the story. I do not own or take credit for any of Beyoncé’s or James’ song ✨ Credit will always be theirs and theirs only 😊

The Beehive

Sacramento, California

February 5th, 1978

19:42 🐝

Napoleon looked down at the small brown business card. On the front in plain honey colored words were the address of the establishment. On the back was a beehive. That was it. Very minimalistic and straight to the point.

‘Interesting marketing strategy.’ Napoleon said as he passed the card over to his partner, Illya.

Illya took a moment to take in the small yet fine work of art. ‘Hmm.’ Before he handed it back.

Once their cab slowly came to a stop by the curb, the two gentlemen thanked their driver and stepped out of the car.

They were immediately met with a beautiful yellow LED lamp screwed into the building; showing across their skeptical glances. The lights were shaped into that of a beehive with tiny twinkling yellow lights, resembling bumble bees.

Beyond those doors, beneath that heavenly designed neon lamp lay the disco highlife of the century.

Awaited by the door were two Gods amongst men. So tall they could touch the roof if they wanted, and muscles that could break bones. To the left and right of them were two separate lines, damn near wrapped around the building that were guarded by red rope.

Illya began to worry.

‘We’ll never get inside.’ He said plainly.

‘Do you not have faith my friend?’ At the flick of his wrist and a twitch of his fingers, the tiny invitation appeared in Napoleon’s fingertips.

‘More magic?’

‘Someone’s gotta like it.’ He smirked and leaned in, ‘Here’s the plan. We go inside, we split up, we listen. Try not to look suspicious please.’

‘Suspicious?’ Illya scoffed, ‘The only person here suspicious here, is you cowboy.’ Pointing at his partner.

Napoleon made a face and looked down at his fit. He was in a plain gray suit with a matching waistcoat, and a white crispy dress shirt and black dress shoes; his usual attire.

‘What’s wrong with what I’m wearing?’

Illya on the other hand, sort of fit the bill. With a brown leather jacket with a turtleneck beneath, dark colored slacks and brown dress shoes to match. Oh, and his signature gray beret sat atop his blonde head.

‘You look like you’ve come to work and not to have fun.’ He rolled his eyes at his unwarranted pun.

‘In all technicality—‘

‘Yes, I know now can we go inside please?’

‘Perhaps. Do you remember your alias?’

Illya rolled his eyes as he head fell back, ‘Yes. I am a migrant here for work. You are a Wall Street journalist looking to have a conversation with the legendary Queen of Disco.’

He had a little bitterness in his voice. Napoleon caught on to that fairly quickly.

‘If you’d like, we can always trade places?’

Illya made a face, ‘Trade places? I am afraid that wouldn’t work.’

‘And why not?’

‘Because…’ Illya stuck his hands in his pockets and turned away. ‘you’re too small.’

A scowl curled up on Napoleon’s face at the insult, wanted so dearly to call him a bunch of curse words but he just cleared his throat and followed his partner towards the bouncers.

Once the men stood in front of the bouncer, Napoleon handed him the card.

The bouncer eyed the card closely, turning it back to front then pulled out a skinny pen like contraption. He clicked it on and a purple light shined down on the brown sheet. Revealing a bumble bee and a +1.

His big brown eyes flickered up from the card to Napoleon then over at Illya which he sized skeptically.

‘Who’s this.’

‘Oh? This is a friend of mine. He’s never been to an American club.’

‘Is that right?’ The bouncer said as he clicked off his pen and tucked it in his breast pocket. ‘Well, this is the perfect place to pop that cherry. Enjoy fellas.’

Napoleon carefully took the card and placed it inside of his breast pocket, ‘Thank you.’ And both of the men walked into the club.

As the men walked in, they were blinded by the bright twinkling lights of the many disco balls that hang on the ceiling along with over a dozen strobe lights dancing across the club.

The place was bustling and busy like nothing they’ve ever seen!

Like a Beehive!

Napoleon gently bobbed his head to the music as his crazed blue eyes danced amongst the floor, watching as gorgeous women of all colors and sizes grind and move their hips upon the dance floor.

It appeared that this mission was the least of his worries but, who he was going to be sneaking out of here with. That was until Illya landed a smack against his chest, knocking him out of whatever silly daze he was entrapped in.

‘Ow!’

‘Stay focus, cowboy. We’ve come to do a job.’

‘Yeah but who said we couldn’t have fun?’

‘Not you. You get carried away. Try not to blow our cover.’ Illya added before walking away in his stern manner.

Napoleon rolled his eyes and reached in his pocket to activate his voice recorder. Then he made his way across the bar which wasn’t far from the entrance.

As he walked over to the bar, he gazed at the dancing patrons, greeting everyone who’d passed to see if he could spot this special lady.

When he stopped at the bar, he took notice of the bartender. A woman, standing at great height. Must’ve been those thigh high platform boots. She had her back turned, cleaning out some glasses. This way he could admire her as she did so.

She had a big, beautiful Afro and wore this leather black and yellow striped short dress that hugged and defined her curves. Maybe this was her?

He cleared his throat loudly, ‘Excuse me bartender!’

The woman looked over her shoulder halfway in a startle, before quickly placing the glass and rag down. She spun around to greet him, her Afro bouncing with each movement. She wore big golden hoop earrings that twinkled and shined everytime the lights danced in her direction.

She flashed him this darling smile, with eyes brown as chocolate yet so bright with happiness and warmth. She was to die for!

‘What can I get for ya’ suga?’

Napoleon’s lips parted to speak but he all of a sudden felt shy. Truly unlike him. A burning heat rose to his cheeks, ‘Hi uh—‘ he looked at her chest which revealed her cleavage but her name tag rescued him from staring. ‘Flo… can I have scotch on the rocks please?’

‘You got it baby. Any particular kind?’

He stared up at the gorgeous brown skinned woman, almost disregarding the question— he cleared his throat and blinked hard once he realized he was staring again.

‘No— no,’ he chuckled, ‘Nothing in particular. How about you surprise me.’ He raised a brow, his own warming smile curling on his lips.

The two stared into one another’s eyes before a giggle left her lips, her dimples puncturing into her cheeks much deeper than before. ‘Alright na. You asked for it.’ She pushed off of the counter and started on his drink.

Napoleon smiled softly before he spun around halfway in his stool and began to gaze across the crowd. After a short moment, he spotted his partner standing off by the stage. Illya gave him a gentle nod of his head before Napoleon returned it in acknowledgment.

‘Here’s your drink, sugar.’

He quickly turned around and met the woman with another smile, ‘Thank you. How much do I owe ya?’

‘Nothin. It’s on the house.’

He raised a brow, ‘Is that so?’ That caught him by surprise really. He had been drugged in all different forms before, so taking a free drink always made him skeptical. ‘Am I like your 100th customer?’

‘No. I ain’t ever seen you here before, I wanted to welcome you here. People who wait outside those doors seldom get inside; just having a little shred of hope to even spend a second inside of this place.’

‘Hmm. Must be quite the place.’

‘You don’t think so?’ Flo asked, placing her hands on her hips.

‘Oh! Of course I think so. The women here are stunning.’ He gave her a quick size before straightening up, ‘Look. I refuse to drink this by myself. Lemme at least buy you one too?’

‘And drink on the job?’

‘I’m afraid so.’

A smirk was plastered on Flo’s face as she internally battled with herself.

‘Tik tok, love. I could practically hear the ice cracking.’ He teased, tapping the face of his watch with his index.

Flo inhaled deeply and rolled her eyes, ‘Alright, fine.’ Her southern draw had slightly peaked through, ‘Only cause you’re cute though.’

Napoleon smirked as she turned around where his smirk quickly faltered and he looked over his shoulder once again.

Once she was finished making her drink, she turned to face him and placed her glass down. ‘Alright—‘

‘Oh! One more thing sweetheart, could you pass me a straw?’

‘A straw?’ She raised a brow. ‘You don’t look like the kind of man that drinks his whiskey through a straw.’

‘Well there’s a lot you must learn about me baby.’

‘Alright then. Ask and you shall receive.’

While she was fulfilling her end of this bargain, Napoleon swiftly swapped their glasses before she could turn back around.

‘Here’s your straw. What should we toast to?’ She asked as she lifted up her glass.

‘Actually, I don’t need the straw… I just like to watch you work.’ He smirked as he wrapped her large hand around the glass that just seemed so miniscule in his palm.

Flo giggled rolling her eyes, ‘You flirt with all your bartenders like this?’

‘Oh dear no! I’m a one bartender kind of man. Actually, let’s toast to that. You being the most spectacular and gorgeous bartender that’s ever graced my presence.’

‘I can get down with that sugar.’ The woman winked as the both of them carefully clicked their glasses together.

Napoleon brought his drink to his lips slowly, watching Flo take a big swig out of hers before placing it down on the counter. No side effects hit her immediately… but perhaps they shall later.

As Napoleon embraced the welcoming warmth of his drink, he placed his glass down on the paper towel that she’d handled him. The space between them grew quiet for a second before he looked up at her. ‘What can you tell me about the person who owns this club?’

‘Who? Queenie? Why you wanna know?’

‘I’m a Wall Street Journalist. I’m looking to write an article about her success!’

Flo looked down at her watch and turned around to grab a rag and clean off her countertop. ‘Well, ion know if you can tell but… Queenie got her work cut out for her that’s for sho.’

‘What do you mean?’

‘Well, her husband—‘

There it was. Exactly what he needed to further investigate.

‘Bought this place for her to solidify their marriage. I’ve been her friend for quite some time and never have I ever thought she would marry that grade A dickhead.’ Flo rolled her eyes.

‘Oh dear. What’s he like? How does he treat her?’

‘He worships the ground she walks on. But it often appears she couldn’t give less than a rats ass about him.’

‘Do you know how they met?’

‘She was singing in some lounge in Texas. That’s where we’re from.’

Napoleon was taking in all these minor details about this woman. He knew she would tell him everything he wanted to know… all she needed was a little motivation.

‘Right. And do you know what her husband does for work?’ He lacked the knowledge of that field, which was why he and Illya were here in the first place.

‘He owns a couple businesses as far as I know… i thought we were talking ‘bout Queenie though?’

Napoleon paused, ‘We are!’ He cleared his throat before taking a sip. He took notice of how she kept looking down at her watch, ‘Y’know the more you look at that thing—‘

‘“The slower time goes.” I know. But since you’re new here… it’s Friday Night.’ Her eyes glanced up at him.

‘Something special about Friday nights?’

Flo looked down at her watch one more time before a huge grin graced her face once more, ‘In fact… they are very special.’

Napoleon’s thick brows tugged into one as his face was written in incomprehensible confusion. Then, every light in the vicinity of the club shut off without warning. A few short squeals floated across the room in dismay.

Startled, Napoleon stood to his feet as he went into panic mode, afraid that he and Illya had been bested. His bright blue eyes fought desperately to adjust in the darkness. But in seconds, a sweet and groovy melody filled the air.

‘Baby, come overrrr.

Baby, come overrrr.

Baby, come over. Come be alone with me tonight.

Beehiiiive!!!’

A woman sang lewdly over the sound of the speakers.

‘Don’t be scared babies. Queen Bee won’t hurt you.’

Napoleon’s eyes had finally adjusted somewhat but he had yet to find Illya.

A big yellow spotlight shined on the stage revealing a band to the left and 3 back up singers who harmonized angelically. Three women with big poofy Afros donned with fresh flowers. They wore something similar to what Flo wore just instead of short dresses, they were flared pants; covered in black and yellow rhinestones.

They shined like stars on that stage.

Napoleon finally spotted Illya who hadn’t even left the spot.

‘All these emotions. It’s washing over me tonight.’

Once the room gained its groove back, Napoleon looked back to see that Flo had disappeared from her post.

He raised his brow in suspicion before he felt a gentle tap on his shoulder. Illya.

‘I saw you flirting with the bartender.’

‘Don’t be ridiculous. I was gathering intel.’

‘And?’

‘She knows just as much as we do.’ Napoleon sighed as they both turned to look at the charade.

That was until this huge disco ball began to slowly descend from the ceiling.

The two men's lips parted in disbelief.

Eventually, she was revealed standing on top of this gigantic ball. She had this beautiful smile plastered on her face as she greeted the crowd with alluring harmonizing.

She almost sounded like a siren; gracing the masses with her deathly hymns.

But when he saw her face, there was no way she could be something so sinister and evil. She was… ethereal. An angel in disguise of a woman who could snatch the soul from any man who dared looked in her direction.

Napoleon was stunned.

‘How are we doing tonight my worker bees?’ She grinned as the crowd beneath her cheered with blissful enthusiasm. ‘Yeeeeah!’ She laughed happily as she continued to scan the crowd.

‘That must be—‘

‘Queenie Covington.’ Napoleon felt like he couldn’t breathe. This was fan behavior! She was not what he’d imagined her to be.

Both of the men watched the woman carefully descend from the ball with the help of her security guards. Her platinum blonde hair cascaded down her back like sacred waterfalls. She wore a bedazzled tank top, matching bedazzled light denim shorts and high metallic silver fringed boots.

She shined brighter than any star they’d ever seen.

Baby come over, come be alone with me tonight.

All these emotions,

It’s rushing over me tonight— AH!

Ride it!

‘What is the plan now, cowboy?’ Illya asked.

‘What plan?’ Napoleon retorted.

‘You don’t have a plan.’

‘You think I knew she was doing an open mic tonight?!’ Napoleon huffed as his pink nose flared with aggravation, ‘We’ll figure it out.’

As Queenie began to croon over that melody once again, the flashing lights glowed into this magnificent yellow hue causing her glow light gold. Her eyes were closed as she allowed the music to embrace and be one with her soul. And when her hazel eyes fluttered back open, her eyes cut across the room towards the two men at the bar who seemed to be bickering at one another. Though, that didn’t take her out of her sensual groove.

‘Look after her performance, she may come to the bar to have a drink.’

‘And if she doesn’t?’

Napoleon inhaled deeply, holding it there as he tried to think of something. ‘Then we’ll do what we always do.’

Illya knew that specific plan and a lot of the time it involved them both getting damn near getting caught.

‘Oh no. Not this again.’

‘Not this again? What choice do we have? She’s the only lead that we have on him. We must exhaust all options.’

‘Sure. Whatever.’

Baby you can hit this, don’t be scared.

(Baby you can hit this, don’t be scared.)

It’s only gonna get you high!

Baby come over.

The boys watched in amazement as the woman swayed and rocked her hips as her own hands made love to her own thighs, belly and breasts.

Queenie cut her eyes back at the two gentlemen back at the bar once again; particularly the one in the suit. He surely stuck out like a sore thumb. And most of her folks here were regulars.

That star struck glare in his eyes was also very telling. She always did enjoy seeing men gawk over her. So with a smile and a wink, she began to moan her lyrics.

Don’t you leave. (me)

Don’t you leave.

So use me. (Use me)

Pursue me. (Pursue me)

Kiss me where you bruise me. (Bruise me)

Oooh weee—

Taste me, the fleshy part.

I scream so loud, I curse the stars!!!

Napoleon gulped hard, reaching in the collar of his dress shirt and tugged at it as he felt his temperature rising.

Illya glanced over at Napoleon and smirked as he took in this canon moment. ‘Has Casanova finally met his match?’

Without taking his eyes off of her, Napoleon groaned, ‘Shut up.’

As she adlibed and add those heavenly high and lows, the song had come to a beautiful close.

‘Thank you.’ She grinned happily as the audience blessed her with a healthy applause .

‘Thank you so much everyone for coming. Being able to perform in front of an energetic crowd is always a true blessing. Please, enjoy the rest of your night sugars and stay groovy.’

They gave her one more applause as she brought her hands together in prayer and bowed in their wake. She then swiftly turned around to speak to her back up singers.

Napoleon narrowed his eyes, taking note of the smiling group of women. It was nice to know that she and those that worked with and/or for her got along fairly well. Then, she excused herself and went backstage.

‘Did you enjoy the performance?’

The two gentlemen jumped at the sudden voice, one that was familiar to Napoleon alone. They turned around to see Flo standing there with a knowing smirk on her full lips.

‘Where did you go?’ Napoleon’s head fell to the side.

‘Oh. I help engineer those pretty lights and what have you. Just some techy junk.’ She smirked and glanced over at Illya. ‘Who’s your friend here?’

Well, the story seems to check out. Though, he didn’t know why she needed to be so suspenseful.

‘This is uh—‘

‘Alex—‘ Illya looked over at Napoleon before looking back ahead at the bartender. ‘My name is Alexsander.’

Napoleon looked back at Flo who gave them both a strange glare. ‘Alright, Alex…sander. Could I get you a drink, sweet baby?’

‘No ma’am. I’m actually here for work.’

‘Well I think we may have something open for security… you sure do fit the bill though.’ A smirk curled on her lips as her head fell to the side. She was checking Illya out.

Napoleon raised a brow with a smirk as the two began to converse with one another. It was about time Illya blew off some kind of steam.

‘Flo, hey.’

Napoleon watched her walk up to the bar and pull herself onto the empty seat beside him. Thee Queenie Covington. Their whole mission, sitting not even a whole foot away from him.

“You are not to sleep with Mrs. Covington under any circumstances, Solo.”

Well it was a good thing he didn’t make promises.

‘Give me the usual.’ She added.

When Flo’s and Illya’s conversation came to a close, he and Napoleon leaned into one another.

‘Just start casual conversation. Perhaps she’ll give us everything we need.’

‘Not to worry.’ He pulled away and turned halfway in his seat, ‘Excuse me, Miss. Queenie I am sorry for the intrusion but—‘

‘No autographs right now sugar.’ She said in a hurry as Flo placed her wine glass in front of her.

This is a man’s world! This is a man’s world!

‘I’m sorry Miss. Queenie I’m not here for an autograph. My name is Napoleon and I’m with the Wall Street Journal. I’d like to honor you in our newspaper.’

She had brought her wine up to her full lips and took a long sip. ‘Mmm! Napoleon? Like the little French dude? You don’t strike me as a “Napoleon”.’

‘What do I strike you as then?’

But it wouldn’t be nothing, nothing — without a woman or a girl.

‘Hmm…’ her head fell to the side as her pretty eyes roamed all over his handsome features.

She breathed him in and my what a breath of fresh air he was. The colors and the lights that danced across his face only seem to enhance the shadows and curvature of his jaw, making his face appear more masculine. Then, every once in a while a yellow light would flash over his eyes, causing them to glow like high beams.

‘I don’t know… maybe a “Henry” or a “David”. Definitely not a short little man with a God complex.’ She giggled, her full lips pulled back to reveal that dazzling smile once more.

He chuckled as his head fell in slight embarrassment. He should’ve changed his damn name.

‘You know I’ve heard that before.’

‘I bet you have.’ Queenie smirked as she took another sip from her glass, ‘So, what is it that I need from me, Napoleon?’

‘I just want to ask you a few questions if you have time?’

‘Yeah, I sup—‘

‘Mrs. Covington?!’ A tall lean male came rushing over to the bar, carefully pushing folks out of the way.

Goddammit.

Queenie rolled her eyes and turned around to meet the gentleman’s gaze, ‘Oh dear, what is it now? I’m in the middle of something!’

‘Yes but it’s your husband ma’am.’

‘Oh? Is the fool finally dying? I’m having a meeting.’

Napoleon took notice of how her mood quickly shifted from something light and fun to something else when her husband was brought up.

Her attitude was so fierce and sharp, you could see how it cut and tore through the gentleman’s ego. Napoleon found himself smirking a little.

‘It’s… it’s important ma’am. He demands your presence.’

She stared up at him for a long moment before letting out a deep breath through her nose and shook her head. ‘Fine. Please just— give me a second to finish my drink.’

The male in all black bowed his head and took a step back to give the woman privacy.

‘Mrs. Covington…’

‘Dear heavens, Mr. Napoleon I am so very sorry. You’ve come all this way to meet me and I have to leave.’ She sighed once again before knocking back the rest of her wine. She was gonna need it dealing with that god forsaken man.

As frustrated as Napoleon was, he couldn’t step out of character so he just gave her a gentle smile.

‘No need to apologize, Mrs. Covington. Perhaps another day? Are you free tomorrow afternoon?’

‘I should be. Maybe we can have brunch. Since this is my screw up, on me.’

‘Nooo, no ma’am. I won’t have it, it’s just a minor inconvenience—‘

‘Are you telling me no?’

The woman stared at him with eyes that searched his soul. Digging in every nook and cranny to figure out who he was.

And to her surprise, he didn’t buckle or break. He wasn’t like most men it appeared. His gaze remained on hers.

‘I’m telling you not to treat me. I don’t think it’s fair.’

‘Hmm.’ She hummed softly as she smirked and stood from her seat. ‘Alright. Meet me here tomorrow at 11:45am. Don’t be late.’

‘You lack faith in me Mrs. Covington.’

Queenie raised her brow and began to walk away, her slightly swaying hips making a statement. Then she paused and turned halfway to meet his gaze once again.

‘Oh and Sugar?’ She called out over the swelling of the music.

But it wouldn’t be nothing— nothing!! Without a woman or a girl.

He blinked and lifted his chin in response to her voice.

‘Call me Queenie.’

Random Tags: @ellethespaceunicorn @milknhonies @headcannonxgalore @xblackreader @xsapphirescrollsx @peternoonewantsthat @deandoesthingstome @peachyvulpixie

[spop-romanticizes-abuse]

so i was rereading the transcript to Launch (the episode where the princesses are trying to locate glimmer) and i want to talk about two things i hated about this episode (apart from.. the obvious):

1. i don’t like that the crew’s idea of an autistic person is “has a special interest” and “doesn’t value human life”.

now i get it. neurodivergent people can have trouble reading the room or responding in a way that people expect us to. but we can still recognize a serious situation (especially one where someone is hurt or in need of help) when we see it.

entrapta has always been kind of absentminded, but i feel like in this episode, they made her act like too much of an airhead. she seems to be on the high-functioning end of the spectrum, so i don’t understand the point of making it seem like she can never take anything seriously. she’s rambling about science and space, she’s climbing over tents, knocking shit over, it’s just strange to add in “comedic” bits like this in an episode that’s supposed to be serious. in general, this episode was far too lighthearted than it had any right to be, but entrapta was the worst part of it.

i just feel like she’s portrayed as more of a silly caricature of an autistic person, rather than an actual autistic person. a lot of this is played for laughs as well like “haha look at entrapta, she’s such an idiot, she only cares about science!” and it just feels insulting. we’ve seen entrapta show concern and compassion before, albeit in her own way, like when hordak wasn’t feeling well. so why would she act like this in a situation where someone’s life is at stake?

my problem lies with the writers and not entrapta herself, because it seems like they pick and choose when to make entrapta more empathetic and relatable, and when to make her act like a robot who doesn’t value human life. it’s just weird.

(this is all based on my general knowledge about neurodivergent people and my own personal experience with autism, so if i said something wrong here, feel free to correct me!)

2. the princesses aren’t mad at entrapta because she joined the horde and built weapons that were used to hurt thousands of innocent people, no no no, they were mad that she betrayed them specifically.

it’s all about “us”. not “our people” or “innocent civilians”, just.. “us”. because they’re the only ones affected by the ongoing war, right? everyone else on etheria is completely safe and sound, the princesses suffered the most because their ego was a bit damaged by what entrapta did. sure.

and let’s not forget this:

fucking rich of perfuma to say that they’re supposed to be entrapta’s friends, when SHE’S the one who leashed entrapta and dehumanized her.

and this is the first and only time they mention the kingdoms. which, btw, i may be nitpicking but “destroyed kingdoms” is a very light way to put it. it makes it seem like the horde was just destroying lands and buildings and not, you know, killing or grievously harming very real people. and again, this is all about THEM in the end, they’re acting like the kingdoms were their property, and not a civilisation of real people with real lives.

it’s a subtle way to avoid addressing the real impact of war, because how would we redeem our beloved catra if we acknowledge that she probably slaughtered hundreds of innocent civilians who were just trying to live their lives?

(also i find it funny that the 12 year old is the only one who even attempts to acknowledge the civilians, while the “adults” of the group whine about themselves.)

i’ve said this a million times before but i just don’t understand the idea of writing about war, and then acting like it only affects the people who are fighting it. this was a show written by adults, right? i’m seriously beginning to question it.

and like i said in a previous post, they did not have to make a she-ra reboot. they did not have to write about war. no one forced them to. if you’re choosing to write about a specific topic in a show that is marketed to the general public, especially children, it is your duty to do your research on it and address it accordingly. you don’t even have to do research to understand that war impacts everyone, not just the oppressors and the royalty. that’s just common knowledge. or did these people skip their history classes?

[sai-lec]

My god people are so miserable in your tags, trying to find a problem everywhere . And btw haven’t you guys wondered that the vibe was maybe just a bit “off” because Carlos was just probably disappointed that he didn’t win that’s it, no need to insult or blame Charles when he did nothing. He won his race beautifully, so no need to be bitter. Some Carlos fans are being really annoying lately sorry

im ngl i dont even think the vibe was weird charles went to celebrate w whoever was collecting the constructors trophy i can’t remember and both of them gave carlos a spray before carlos went to spray max and they chatted before they left the podium like it wasn’t weird to me

but the main thing is people are always going to be like this in fandom . it’s a form of parasocialism in believing that we as viewers can understand the inner workings of our idols from ‘knowing them’ through the screen and coming to ‘recognise’ what we see as behavioural markers . happens all the time that’s why we end up with prominent shipping and rpf cultures in a lot of fanbases bc of our interpretation of how people interact with one another .

it can become obsessive for people, the majority of fandoms i’ve been in have been centred around real people and the subject of ‘truthing’ comes up a lot- the strict determination of a trait or personality of a person based on a second hand perspective of them, where the f in rpf is made redundant and people start to genuinely believe their headcanons of a person are applicable to their real life person . larry stylinson is knocking at the door .

because of parasocial and truthing behaviours peoples perception of drivers becomes tilted on what will best fit the subconscious narrative they are building- lando for instance i believe doesn’t deserve the mass hatred of mischaracterising as an awful person he’s been getting this season. nothing has changed between this season and the last except for the number of wins under his belt .

last year people felt the same hostility towards max . a few years ago it was lewis . its the relationship to our drivers as a competitor that’s changed . and those that pose a bigger threat receive the harsher penalties to their character .

it’s not an issue with carlos fans . it’s not an issue with lando fans or max fans or charles fans or anyone . it’s an issue of parasocialism that’s prevalent in every fandom for every character ever . we see it more for these drivers because they are top 5 drivers and they have larger fan bases . none of us are the big bad .

sometimes it feels like us vs them and i’ll tell you first i felt that way at the start of the season because genuinely i was being flooded with carlos hate in my asks and people posting the most insane negatively parasocial conspiracy theories about carlos having paid out the media to talk about him as if he didn’t just win a grand prix 2 weeks after surgery and be one of the most valuable drivers on the market for 2025 (i still get heated about that bc it was just plain disrespectful) . and yeah it did feel like it was carlos fans vs the lecfosi . because sometimes we let it be .

we build these insanely negative parasocial relationships with drivers and it consumes us. i’ve had to block ferrari fans for constantly posting carlos negativity and no doubt charles fans have had to block some carlos fans for constant driver negativity. lando fans will have gotten death threats over a race result even though that’s an insane thing to do and so have oscar fans .

everyone is annoying all the time we all annoy each other with our parasocial truthing of drivers personalities and the only way it’s actually going to change is if

1) we all take a step back to analyse our own behaviours and how we engage with negative parasocial behaviour

2) we stop making call out posts of ‘x drivers fans are so annoying’ because all it’s doing is reinforcing the narrative we want to build

[arrrmagedonnn]

Well i decided to translate my lore article into English soooo I hope you will enjoy it!! Also feel free to ask some questions about them or maybe art requests with them, I will be so happy to answer!

CW: legal slavery, slave whump, conditioned whumpee, self-harm, non-con, abuse (I dont know what to add but I hope you understand vibe)

1. A bit of world building 

The setting is an alternative Europe of the 70s-80s (historical events are different, this is just to understand the general atmosphere and the development of technology). The economy is based on a system of owning and selling slaves, and is under strict control –you can legally buy/sell a slave only through the Central Market, which is located in every city. Market belongs to the Formelle family, which takes a large percentage from each completed sale, and due to this is one of the richest in the country.

The market is divided into several sections, each sells slaves of different “quality". Every Friday there is a Big Auction where exclusive slaves are sold, which cannot be bought just like that. They are considered more elite because of their physical attractiveness, learning to write/read and other skills. On the rest of the week, in the evenings, Small Auctions are held, where slaves are exhibited that have not been sold for a fixed price during the day. The Big Auction and Small Auctions are held on Monday and Wednesday by Mark, on all other days by Fran.

2. Ethan

Ethan is a slave, he was born after his mother (also a slave) was raped by her master. She worked in a large estate, with many servants besides them, so for the first couple of years they did not pay much attention to Ethan, but the more he grew, the more he began to resemble his father in appearance. So, in order to avoid a scandal and the disclosure of the rape story, at the age of 11, Ethan was resold to the other side of the country, to a farm.

He lived and grew up there until he was 17. Everything was quite good – Ethan was not given too hard work and most of the time he was not noticed at all, so he often secretly went for walks in the woods, to the river, and other interesting places near the farm. On one of these walks, he accidentally went a little further than usual, got lost and for two days couldnt find the way back. When he returned, the owners thought he was trying to escape, so they beat him up and then resold him to work in a factory.

It was a textile factory and the conditions there were much worse – constant work for 15-17 hours a day, disgusting living conditions, lack of normal food, and in case of disobedience (which was just weariness), Ethan was punished by being locked in a small dark punishment cell (after that he had a phobia of enclosed dark spaces). At such moments, he began to have a strong derealization, and in order to somehow cope with this, Ethan did not come up with anything better than stealing and carrying sharp cutting objects (needles, blades, pins, scissors) and cutting/stabbing his hands, because the pain helped him return to reality and don't start going crazy.

Ethan worked at the factory for about a year until Mark took him away from there.

By nature, Ethan is modest and intimidated, he tries to be as obedient as possible, even to the detriment of his needs. He has low self–esteem and considers himself fundamentally bad, wrong and broken, and thinks that all violence in his direction is right and deserved.

And some facts:

- Ethan can't read or write, but he can count to 30 and tell the time by the clock.

- Ethan constantly hears voices accusing and insulting him, and he is generally prone to visual, auditory and tactile hallucinations, as well as bouts of derealization.

- Ethan considers ignoring and loneliness much worse than any physical punishment.

- His favorite dessert is sugar cubes

3. Mark

Mark is one of the children of the Formelle family. Thanks to his mother, who indulged his every whim, he grew up spoiled and selfish, used to having everything in the world revolve around him. Because of his character and behavior, his peers did not want to be friends with him, so he either bought the friendship of other children for money, or was surrounded by slaves of his own age (he accidentally killed one of them during a game by throwing a stone at his head, but the next day they just brought a new one to Mark).

After graduating from high school, Mark tried to study at a medical university, but barely mastered the first year. Instead of studying, he preferred going to loud parties, drinking expensive cocktails in bars, going to boutiques with branded clothes and finding other ways to spend his parents' money. After some time, he was forced to work as an auctioneer in order to bring at least some benefit to the family business, but even so he has a lot of time for endless parties and bars.

Since childhood, Mark had a noticeable craving for violence, so when he got older, Mark began to use slaves, originally intended for sale, for his “personal use”. Mark's main fetish is cutting, so that all his slaves either died from wounds and blood loss, or became mutilated to the point that they could not move normally, and their appearance made them unsuitable for resale. Such waste continued for a long time, but in the end, Mark was forbidden to take expensive elite slaves, and instead take cheaper and already used ones, such as Ethan. By the way, Mark chose Ethan for himself only because he saw fresh cuts on him, and he was very amused by how he was hurting himself.

By nature, Mark is very mannered, arrogant, likes to be the center of attention and is fueled by adoration for himself from other people. He has an antisocial personality disorder, so he does not feel empathy for others, except for feigned pity. He likes to control everything and hates it when things don't go the way he intended.

And some facts:

- Mark uses makeup – concealer, concealer, he draws himself small arrows and a mole under his eye, because he heard that it makes the face more symmetrical.

- Mark is a sadomasochist and have ASPD

- His favorite dessert is macaroons

3.1 Mark and Ethan

Ethan lived with Mark for two years, and Mark very quickly won Ethan's love and affection through emotional manipulation. Compared to life at the factory, life with Mark was easier and calmer for Ethan, even despite the constant violence in his direction. Mark convinced Ethan that the process of making cuts makes him “beautiful“ and ”full-fledged", all punishments are done “for the good". In addition, beatings, sex, cuts and forced self-harm always alternated with affection, care and words of love, which made Ethan want violence against himself, because after it there would be a pleasant, comfortable part.

Their "relationship" lasted until Mark thought it was a funny idea to fuck Ethan in the eye socket. Before that, Ethan was already physically weak due to the constant mutilation, and after that he finally broke down, constantly just lying, sleeping, crying, and did not show the same emotions as before. Mark tried to sell him, but he couldn't find anyone willing to buy the exhausted, half-dead one-eyed slave, so Mark gave Ethan to his friend, Rafe.

4. Raf (Rafael)

Rafael is a childhood friend of Mark, but unlike him, he does not come from a rich family. His father left the family, Francesca's mother worked a lot and almost did not raise her son, so from childhood Raf was more serious and independent than his peers.

Raf's mother and Mark's father communicated closely, so the children spent a lot of time with each other. Raf was the only one whose friendship Mark couldn't buy, and who didn't suck up to him because of his status. They often quarreled, fought, reconciled, fought again, but in the end they remained close friends for many years to come. Rafe was and remains the only one whom Mark considers his equal, and whose opinion and attitude he cares at least a little.

After graduating from school, Raf dreamed of going to medical school with Mark, but he failed to enroll in budget education, and there was not enough money for paid education. Instead, Raf graduated as an economist and got a job at a regular office position.

By nature, Raf is quite balanced, restrained and serious. He suffers from workaholism and insomnia. Long-term communication with people quickly exhausts him, it is difficult for him to make new friends and even acquaintances.

And some facts:

- In high school and before the first years of university, Rof dated Mark's cousin, Lillian. They parted on quite a good note, realizing that they were not suitable for each other.

- Raf is always haunted by the thought that he is not doing "enough" – not working hard enough, not trying hard enough, and in an attempt to feel satisfied with the completion of some project, he can work continuously for several days in a row.

- Raf has a british cat, Lala, which he picked up from the street (in fact, she went into the house herself and refused to leave). Lala is not very sociable and grumpy, often bites and scratches if you try to pet her.

- Rafe likes to watch true-edge shows on TV and read detective stories, in which the reader is invited to find the killer along with the main character.

- Collects stamps and smoking pipes. - He cooks well, but because of work, he has almost no time for it.

4.1 Raf and Mark

Raf and Mark still communicate well and often, despite the difference in characters. After Rafe broke up with Lillian, Mark suggested that he start dating, but after the recent breakup, Rafe agreed only to a "relationship without a relationship" – they have sex, romance, but they do not call an official relationship.

4.2 Raf and Ethan

As I said above, Mark decided to give Ethan to Raf. Rafe himself has been extremely negative about the slavery system since childhood and does not support it, so he agreed to take Ethan only because he would not have lived long in any other place because of his weakened condition. Ethan will need a long time to get used to the new conditions, especially in contrast after living with Mark. For example, Ethan is used to being punished for any oversight, and if he doesn't, then he needs to harm himself on his own, and Rafe won't understand the reasons for this behavior for a long time.

weeeeell thats all!! I know that the article is a bit crooked and my English is not so good, but I tried my best!!