#new women (derogatory) and ‘but those are men’s clothes!!’

[millidew]

rip lucy and mina you would’ve loved farcille. rip marcille you would’ve loved westenray (falin lost interest and fell asleep before finishing the book)

[siredtoelijah44]

Late Night Distractions - Elijah Mikaelson (18+)

warnings: Lawyer!Elijah au, f!reader, mean Elijah, derogatory nicknames (slut, stupid), use of daddy, curvy/chubby reader, Elijah has a dirty mouth, oral (m!receiving), slight exhibitionism, one face slap, some spanking, unprotected sex, basically just porn with no plot

a/n: I was possessed when writing this

word count: 3212

Elijah hadn’t moved in hours. You questioned if he was still alive. But every so often his eyes would shift or he’d turn the page, signalling he was still functioning. 

You’d dropped those documents off in his office at 7:30 this morning – half an hour later than you should’ve. Elijah rolled his eyes when you dropped them on his desk and rambled on about how long the line had been at your coffee shop. 

If it had been anyone else he would’ve told them being late was unacceptable. If you were going to get coffee you had to leave earlier. His other assistants had been fired for less. But he kept you around because it was you. 

The office knew you weren’t the best at your job. You were a forgetful thing. You’d mix up Elijah’s documents. You’d spilled coffee more than once on important papers. Yet clients loved you. A bubbly personality and a pretty face went a long way with the people who came through the firm. You were chatty and had a knack for remembering personal details that others would forget. Which made clients love you. 

So Elijah kept you around as more of a personal assistant than a legal secretary. And he couldn’t exactly fire his girlfriend now could he?  

He let Vivian handle everything that wasn’t people. She was quite good at the legal part. There were never mixed up documents with her or spilled coffee. But she also didn’t have the personality you did. It was a good balance, he supposed. 

And the partners appreciated your presence. It was an office filled with testosterone and arrogant men. So of course they liked the view when they walked by Elijah’s office. And you seemed to either be completely oblivious or you enjoyed the attention.

He knew for a fact you enjoyed his attention. He knew most women did. He was a powerful man – a managing partner at one of the best law firms in New York. He was rich. He was handsome. He could have anyone he wanted and who he wanted was you.

You were beautiful. That much was obvious to everyone who saw you. You’d show up in your business attire. He could rarely pry his eyes from your thighs when you wore skirts or when you wore those slacks that made your ass look divine. Your hair and makeup were always done too. The lipgloss you always had on drove him crazy. Or when he caught a whiff of that perfume you wore. That perfume lingered on his sheets every time you left his bed.

You were a distraction wrapped in expensive clothes that sat right outside his door. You’d come into his office whenever you felt like it to talk or show him your new nails or your latest purchase. Sometimes you’d come in to show him those silly dog videos you adored. Cat ones too. 

But today he was managing to ignore your presence. He’d explicitly told you not to come in unless it was important. 

The merger he was working on was one of the biggest he ever had. If all went well he’d have a hefty bonus for himself – and you. Your salary was ridiculous for the job you did. Yet he paid it anyway. He’d take it out of his own paycheck if it meant keeping you pretty and happy. 

With Elijah busy today, you hadn’t had much to do. You’d taken a long lunch and brought him back something to eat. You’d dropped it off in his office but all you’d gotten was a gruff ‘thank you’ before he waved you off. You’d taken a few phone calls from clients and spent the rest of your day flitting about the office. 

By the end of the night you were spectacularly bored. The office was pretty empty. Most of the partners were gone, having taken their work with them. But not Elijah. He was still sitting at his desk, hyper focused on something you had no interest in understanding. 

Yet you were still here. Someone was supposed to be there in case he needed anything. Vivian had a date tonight so you’d be staying. You’d huffed about it but it was either be bored here or be bored in his apartment. And secretly you loved being here late with him. It was more fun to play with him here than it was back at his penthouse. 

Under the cover of darkness Elijah was willing to indulge himself in you at the office. Whether it be you on your knees under his desk or pressed against the glass of his office window, he’d let you distract him thoroughly.

When James dropped a stack of files on your desk you finally had your in. “Thank you,” you hummed, waving the first year associate off. They were the only people still here – stuck in the library downstairs doing research as usual. 

Once you brewed a new pot of coffee as a peace offering for doing what you were about to do, you headed into Elijah’s office. You paused for a moment. Grabbing your lip gloss, you reapplied and fluffed up your hair. You’d taken your sweater off as the office cleared out – it was always too hot in the office – leaving you in a tight fitting tank top. 

You pushed open the glass door, precariously balancing the files and a cup of coffee in your arms. “I come bearing gifts,” you said in a sing-songy tone. You set both items down in front of him before perching on the edge of his desk. It was the first time he’d spared you a glance today. 

Elijah’s gaze flickered to the clock. It was nearly 1:30 in the morning. He’d been distracted and he hadn’t realized how late it had gotten. “What’s all this?” 

“The research you asked for. And coffee.” 

He took a long sip of the coffee and sighed. He leaned back in his chair. He didn’t think he’d get much more done tonight especially now that you were here. His eyes traced over the planes of your body, silently admiring the way those slacks fit your hips and the way your tank top hugged your breasts. 

“I thought I told you to stay out of my office today. This is the second time you’ve interrupted me.” 

You shrugged. “Thought you might need a pick-me-up.” It wasn’t just the coffee you were talking about. 

“It’s a distraction and you know I have important work to get done.” 

You slipped off his desk and moved to leave, but his hand darted out to grab your wrist. He tugged on your arm and pulled you back towards him. 

“Where do you think you’re going?” he asked lowly. 

“I’m a distraction and I thought you had work to do, Mr. Mikaelson,” you said, a soft giggle escaping your lips. You looked at him with those eyes, batting your lashes at him. It always drove him insane. Everything you did worked him up. 

He pulled you to stand between his legs. “It’s too late to back out now, darling.” 

You did this every time. You’d give him a bit of attitude or you’d blatantly ignore him. But the second he got his hands on you, you backed down. The attitude melted away quickly, yet you knew you’d still pay for it. Elijah liked any excuse to be a little rough on you. And you’d chosen the day he was in a bad mood to play with him. 

He watched as you sunk your teeth into your glossy bottom lip. “You said it was important work,” you replied, your voice coming out breathier than you would’ve liked. 

A small smirk tugged at Elijah’s lips. His eyes were glued on your face. He knew what you were trying to do and it amused him every time. You were squirming already and he hadn’t done anything. But you both knew how easily he broke you. He’d take you apart piece by piece and you’d do nothing but thank him for it. 

He tutted as you tried to talk your way out of it. “I did. But it seems my girl got stupid. I think she needs a reminder to think with her head and not her pussy.” He pressed his hand between her thighs, practically groping you. 

Heat crawled up your neck at his words and touch. “Eli–” 

He cut you off, clicking his tongue again. “I told you to stay at your desk, darling.” His other hand snaked around your body, this time grabbing a handful of your ass. He could never get enough of your body. You were so soft and perfect. “Yet you still came in. Because you wanted me to touch you, isn’t that right?”

You shook your head. You were trying to deny it but you both knew it was true. You’d waited until the office cleared out before you came in because you knew what he’d do to you. 

“Don’t lie to me,” he practically growled. He pulled his hand from between your legs only to grab your hair roughly. He tugged you into his lap with his grip. “You came in here because you couldn’t wait for me to take care of you at home.” 

That was the truth. You’d been bored and needy. The merger had taken up most of his attention for days, leaving you high and dry. And you were trying to provoke him into doing something to you. Elijah wanted you to admit it. His palm against your cheek was enough for you to understand that. 

It wasn’t a hard slap. Just a little tap to remind you he was waiting. “Y-yes,” you finally admitted. 

“That wasn’t so hard now was it?” he asked, his voice dripping with condescension. “We both know how much of a slut you are. Prancing around the office in those tight clothes. You’re practically begging those boys to give you attention. But we also know you’re mine.” 

“I’m yours, daddy,” you echoed the sentiment. 

He grinned. That’s what he wanted to hear. He wanted you to submit to him. It fed his already overinflated ego to know how easy it was to make you melt. A few little touches and few mean words and you were pliant again. 

“Good girl,” he cooed. “Now take your clothes off.” 

He pushed you off his lap so you could strip. His eyes never left your body as you started pulling your clothes off. You started with your tank top. Elijah’s eyes darkened as you revealed more of your skin along with your lacy bra. Eyes followed your hands as you popped the button of your slacks open. You shimmied out of those too along with your panties and bra. 

Once you were bare, your clothes in a heap on the floor, Elijah crooked his finger, gesturing for you to come closer to him. You followed the silent command. His fingers skimmed your bare hip. He adored every curve and dip of your body. The way your full breasts were on display for him.

He dipped his fingers between your plush thighs, swiping them through your wetness. “Such a slut,” he murmured. “I’ve barely touched you and you’re dripping. All because you want to get fucked in daddy’s office.” 

Elijah brought his fingers to his mouth. He licked her arousal from the digits. 

“On your knees.”

He parted his thighs further, making room for you between them. You knew the drill. You sank to your knees between his legs. Hands tugged at his belt. You unbuckled it and unzipped his slacks. You only pulled them down enough to free his cock. 

Elijah was already hard. He couldn’t help it. You were the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen. And your little strip tease had made him ache to take you. He tangled a hand in your hair as he guided you in. He always let you set the initial pace – that was until he finally snapped and took exactly what he wanted. 

A soft hiss escaped his lips as you licked a strip up his cock before taking the tip into your mouth. You stroked the rest of his length that wasn’t in your mouth. Slowly you took more of him into your mouth. Your other hand moved to fondle his balls which made his grip on your hair tighten. 

“Fuck–” he groaned, head falling back against his chair. 

He let you bob your head up and down a few times before he’d had enough of your pace. He pushed you all the way down until your nose was nearly pressed against his navel. Elijah couldn’t deny how much he enjoyed you choking on his cock. 

The noise was obscene – your wet mouth, your gags, his groans – as he held your head in place, and rocked his hips into your mouth. Each movement had you struggling to breathe. Spit gathered at the corner of your mouth, dripping down your chin. He nearly hit the back of your throat with each thrust. 

“God, you’re perfect,” he grunted. “Taking me like a good little slut.” 

You gripped his thighs, your acrylics digging into his skin though the fabric. You tried to keep your focus on breathing but Elijah’s cock all the way down your throat made it difficult even to do so through your nose. 

He knew how much you could take. Once he felt you were ready to tap out he pulled you off his length. Your eyes were watery with tears and your chin was slick with your own spit. He smiled down at you – a mocking little grin – and stroked your hair softly. 

He tugged you to your feet and back into his lap. He pulled you into a searing kiss, his tongue slipping past into your mouth. Your lips moved against his as you eagerly reciprocated the kiss. 

One of his hands came up, fondling one of your breasts. He squeezed the supple flesh before running his thumb across your nipple. He continued the motions until both your nipples were hard. Then he pulled away from your lips. 

A wet trail of kisses was left down your neck but he was careful not to leave any marks on your skin. He didn’t want the questions about where you’d got them or the extra stares the boys would give you if they saw love bites across your skin. So he avoided anywhere obvious, saving his marks for places that were for his eyes only. 

He wrapped his lips around one nipple, making your back arch into his touch. You were still dripping. You were naked and squirming in his lap. And you were pretty sure your arousal would stain his slacks. 

When Elijah felt he’d given your tits enough attention so he pulled away. He’d littered little bruises across the delicate flesh where no one else could see them. Just him. Your body was for his eyes only and you both knew it. Your curves, your pillowy thighs, your soft tummy – it was all his and he cherished it. He always made you feel loved and pretty, even when he fucked you like he hated you. Which was what he was going to do tonight. 

He’d been stressed from the merger. He knew you meant well when you pranced into his office. You were only trying to get him to take a break, considering he hadn’t moved from his desk for more than a bathroom break in twelve hours. But he also didn’t appreciate your blatant disregard for his instructions. 

Elijah stood up, holding you as he did. He moved so you were sitting on the edge of the desk. As much as he wanted to shove everything off his desk so he could be inside you quicker, he’d regret it later. So he grabbed the important files and set them on the couch. Then he pushed the other things out of the way. 

His hands tugged at you, manhandling you until you were bent over with one leg propped up on the desk. You always looked so pretty bent over like this. He landed a sharp smack against your ass. He enjoyed the way your body jumped forward in surprise and your skin jiggled from the impact. He did it a few more times but he was growing impatient. He needed to feel your pussy wrapped around him. His stress hadn’t only left you high and dry but it had left him pent up too. 

He pushed his slacks and boxers further down. Elijah lined himself up behind you. He ran the tip of his cock through your folds, teasing you for a moment before filling you up. He hardly gave you time to adjust to his size. 

Hips snapped against your ass, forcing your body forward with each brutal thrust. It was like he’d stolen the air from your lungs. A loud cry was pulled from your lips. Elijah cursed at the noise. While the floor was relatively empty there were likely still people in the building. 

His hand tangled in your hair so he could pull you up. Your back was flush with his chest. Elijah’s hand left your hair, instead curling around your mouth, effectively muffling your sounds. 

“You’ve got to be quiet… unless you want everyone to hear how much of a slut you are for me.” You moaned against his hand. Elijah chuckled. “You want those little boys to know you’re a slut, don’t you? You want them to come see that I own you, see me taking you apart?” 

He knew there was likely still one or two of the first years on the floor. They very rarely ventured near his office – they knew better – but if you were loud you’d catch their attention. As much as he wanted to prove you were his, the thought of someone else seeing you like this made his blood boil. 

His self-induced jealousy only made his thrusts harder. His office was filled with the sound of skin against skin and your wet pussy. 

“Fuck.” Elijah cursed under his breath as he neared his edge. You were gripping him like a vice, clearly getting close yourself. He slipped his free hand between the desk and your hips, seeking out your clit. He rubbed tight circles against your clit. He dropped his hand from your mouth so he could smack your ass once more. 

You moaned at the combination of his hard thrusts and the pressure on your clit. “Daddy,” you choked out, “gonna come.” 

“That’s a good little slut,” he groaned. “Come for daddy.” 

It only took one more swipe of his finger for your toes to curl, your orgasm washing over you. Elijah’s movements grew sloppy. He buried himself as deep as he could as his own peak hit him. He filled you to the brim with his cock and his release. 

You slumped forward on the desk, no longer able to hold yourself up. Elijah practically collapsed on top of you. His breathing was coming out in sharp pants against your shoulder. He kissed your skin gently and squeezed your hip. 

“God, you’re perfect,” he murmured. 

“You aren’t too bad yourself.” 

He chuckled. “That was definitely worth the distraction.” 

[coochiequeens]

This is the perfect example of how transwomen have male socialization. He does something tasteless and gets criticized by women. And instead of looking inward and asking himself if there are more productive ways of breaking down gender roles (like maybe showing himself doing laundry and how to take care of clothes instead of collecting more props) he calls the women hateful.

A controversial male social media influencer is sparking backlash after an Instagram video he made scolding women began to circulate on social media. In the video, Jeffery Marsh, who identifies as non-binary, addressed a past sponsorship he had been offered to promote tampons and other feminine hygiene products.

Last month, Marsh posted a video to his Instagram page speaking to “the ladies of Twitter, especially” over “hate” he received for a tampon ad campaign he took part in. After being uploaded to other social media platforms, the video began to spark backlash, amassing hundreds of critical comments from women concerned about female erasure.

In the video, Marsh addresses the “hate” he received for a paid campaign he took part in with feminine hygiene product brand This is L. The partnership had actually taken place in 2020, but had recently begun receiving new attention after images from the photoshoot with Marsh were shared on Twitter once again.

As new comments began to pile under his campaign photos, Marsh filmed a video addressing his reasons for taking part in a tampon promotion. 

“I made the video for 2 reasons. So that women would feel less stigmatized, so that people who menstruate would feel less stigmatized,” Marsh said, noting that menstruation is often seen as “gross, disgusting, a joke” by “cis” men. 

Calling himself a “non-binary person who does not menstruate,” Marsh claimed his intentions behind taking the paid gig were to help end the stigma associated with periods. He continued: “And then the hate came for me,” and scolded the women who took issue with his participation in the tampon promotion, claiming that they were “policing” gender by criticizing him.

“We should be working together. The more you police your gender role the more you are policing the idea that one gender role is the best. I will keep fighting for your rights even if you hate me to my core because women are not second class citizens.”

Marsh’s claimed reasons for his participation in the ad campaign fell flat on social media, with many pointing out that Marsh frequently uses the term “TERF” when addressing women who vocally support the basic rights and safeguarding of women and children. TERF – an acronym standing for “trans exclusionary radical feminist” – is often used in a derogatory fashion and coupled with threats and abuse.

Jeffrey Marsh is well-known amongst advocates for women’s rights and child safeguarding due to his catalogue of videos denying the existence of biological sex, as well as those where he directly addresses the “kids” in his audience. Marsh has advocated people to go “no contact” with families or relatives who invalidate their gender identity, and has advised parents to provide“gender affirming care” for their children.

Marsh’s most recent video on his past collaboration also referenced popular trans-identified male influencer Dylan Mulvaney, who similarly defended his decision to become a spokesperson for Tampax last year. Both Tampax and This is L, the brand Marsh promoted, are owned by mega-conglomerate Proctor & Gamble. 

In 2020, This is L partnered with the Phluid Project in a promotional video featuring individuals of varying “gender identities” to spread the message that periods are not specific to females. Amongst the “queer” influencers who shilled their “gender neutral” menstrual products were Blair Imani and Alok Vaid-Menon. 

Phluid is a “gender free” clothing and lifestyle brandbased in New York which also often involves itself in trans activism. On its website, Phluid states that it “…support[s] the most at risk of the LGBTQIA+ community [by] supporting trans-led organizations.” Phluid has provided direct support to the Sylvia Rivera Law Project, which provides assistance to incarcerated males who wish to change their gender or be moved to a women’s institution. 

Among the inmates the SRLP has worked with are convicted child murderer Synthia Chyna Blast, who was invited to be part of their prisoner action committee, and Xena Grandichelli, who raped a toddler yet assisted with SRLP’s community outreach. 

This is L also features multiple partners on their site, most of which equally propagate that women are not the only ones who menstruate. In particular, the Period Project, which strongly advocates for “gender neutral” language around menstruation.

On its website, the Period Project writes: “Not all women menstruate, and not all menstruators are women. At The Period Project, we are dedicated to supporting all menstruators, and we want to make sure our fight for menstrual equity is gender inclusive. We use the term ‘menstruators’ to refer to all people who experience menstruation, including cisgender, transgender, nonbinary, and genderfluid individuals.”

[the-expose-on-girls]

Characteristics of Toxic Office Women

The girls who think being a receptionist makes them upper class, the heads of HR who think they rule the world, and everyone in between.

Either goes overboard with her fashion or dresses like a future Karen

There is no in between. On the one hand is the girl who thinks the office is her own personal runway. Probably has one favored aesthetic that she sticks to, which can seem very costume-y at times: like vintage bitch or old money. Or the less common type gets straight to the point by dressing as sexy as she can get away with to manipulate men and intimidate women.

Then on the other hand are the women dressing old while still young, but they don't seem to realize it. They probably buy their clothes for the office at Maurices, Walmart, Kmart, or Ralph Lauren. Most outfits are comprised of unflattering billowy tops in floral print or blah colors, cropped pants like old ladies wear, and flats that only accentuate their stubby legs and make it look like they have duck feet. (Can we make that a new term? "Office Ducks") They think ankle "booties" are SUCH a power move.

EXTREMELY POWER HUNGRY!

Will claw her way to the top of the office ladder, preferrably in a position like HR, marketing, or accounting, then squeeze every last drop of sadistic pleasure out of her authority. Usually makes coworkers miserable in the process. Has bullied at least one woman out of the office (either covertly or openly), yet men in the office will still be shocked then doubtful when women come forward with stories of how awful she is. Relishes every opportunity to correct others, exact punishment, appear more knowledgeable, show off, etc. She has no power in her personal life, so she pursues it at work to make herself feel better.

A legend in her own mind

Thinks her job is SO upper echelon, but all she actually does is answer phones, push around trivial papers that accomplish nothing, and gossip by the copy machine. Genuinely thinks she's a high power business woman of Wall Street or making a positive difference in the world, but she's just another cog in the machine.

Those in a marketing department post way too much and overshare on their personal social media, thinking they are demonstrating their marketing talent by doing so. No ma'am, you're not a high profile influencer or popular blogger; you are just a loud mouth with an Internet connection and narcissism issue. The promotions you design are lackluster at best.

Hypocritical, mediocre, and lacking all self awareness

Likes to make derogatory jokes about how hard work is, how ready she is for "Friyay", and how terrible her boss is (only if she is not the boss, herself). But will turn around and act like her job makes her a class above others, the mere peasants.

Mediocre life goals. Work her way up the office food chain to the end goal of something like HR, have an average-looking husband, drive an ugly SUV, live in a cookie cutter house, and have no more than 3 children, all with the most basic names. Once she achieves this, she thinks she's queen of the world and all must bow low before her. She sits in her little office with her "inspirational" Instagram font wall art and spends all day savoring the little kingdom she has carved out for herself.

Genuinely believes she is a "wine connoisseur" and that she's classy for it. LOVES wine, wine humor, and cheesy wine accessories. Not so subtly drinks wine on work video calls. Drinks heavily over her weekends and it definitely shows on Mondays.

Climbing the corporate ladder

The younger toxics might be promiscuous cheaters. They know full well that their womanly qualities can get them moved up the office food chain. Oh, their poor boyfriends/husbands and the wives of the male coworkers they toy with!

GOSSIP is the top weapon in her arsenal for dealing with "competition" and other girls she is threatened by---other girls who have no ill will toward her and aren't actually trying to compete with her. She takes catty and passive aggressive to a whole new level.

Not all toxic women will exhibit all of these traits at the same time. But even having one of these characteristics can be enough to make everyone else in the office miserable. Be on the lookout!

[maggotmouth]

          hillo sexthy legends !!   i’m nora and i’ll be writing margo colby n probs sm1 else bcos lets be real, i lack self-control. u can find her pinterest here n some info abt her sexy self below the cut. plot with me on discord ( hot girl midsommar#8664 ) or in my ims !!  x o x

     * CAMILA MORRONE, CIS WOMAN + SHE / HER  | you know MARGO COLBY, right? they’re TWENTY-THREE, and they’ve lived in irving for, like, ELEVEN YEARS? well, their spotify wrapped says they listened to SCRAWNY BY WALLOWS  like, a million times this year, which makes sense ‘cause they’ve got that whole BLEACH WHITE SNEAKERS POUNDING ON A GYMNASIUM FLOOR, USING THE SAME BLUNT SCISSORS TO HACK THE SLEEVES OFF AN EXES T-SHIRT THAT YOU USE TO CUT YOUR 3AM FRINGE, A WALNUT-SHAPED ACHE IN THE PIT OF YOUR STOMACH FOR THE PERSON YOU COULD HAVE BEEN thing going on. i just checked and their birthday is AUGUST 8TH, so they’re a LEO, which is unsurprising, all things considered. ( nora, 25, gmt, she/her )

CLICK ANYWHERE ON THIS SENTENCE FOR SEXII GOOGLE DOC!!

bullet point summary of margo.

—   born margaret but NOBODY calls her that. its colby, coach or margo, and go to the privileged few. margo grew up in the creek commune n then dropped out of school cos of a teenage pregnancy so she was a bit of a cautionary tale back in’t’day (said tht in my yorkshire accent). she now works for summer camps coaching pee wee soccer and pee wee cheer, as well as helping out her beekeeper dad on his honey farm, which is jst north of abernathy creek, and working at scuba on the off seasons.

—  its just her and her dad, and has been for as long as she can recall !! everything she knows about her mum could fit on the back of the weathered passport photo she keeps in her wallet of a stranger who shares her face - her name’s melody, or at least tht was name she used when working as a dancer, she’s from argentina and dropped mag’s dad as soon as someone w more money came along.

—  margo’s father is a beekeeper with his own organic honey company. margo and her dad moved to irving in the early 00s, the summer between grade school and middle school, because her dad had heard about the communal living in abernathy creek and wanted to lend his skills there and live off the fatta the land in a very lenny from of mice and men kinda way.

—  for a few years of middle school margo was bullied for living with the ‘freaks from the creek’, but when they realised how chill her dad was with underage drinking, margo ‘keg-bringer’ colby soon gained popularity among the more renegade students. every so often, the high school parties would happen at her end of town, occasionally with members of the commune even offering the high schoolers a spiritual experience they’d never forget (often in the form of mushrooms) which meant people tried to stay on her good side. to get an invite to a margo colby party handed you a free pass to make up the most ridiculous shit about the commune you liked and nobody else could say anything, because they’d never been to the creek.

—  at school, margo had a lot of ‘behvioural issues’ bcos of undiagnosed adhd, she found it difficult to sit still for hours n write down huge chunks of information n her restlessness was seen as laziness. she was encouraged to do sports, as were most of the kids who weren’t that academically inclined, but she turned out to be pretty hot shit at sprinting, because she grew up surrounded by bee houses and he who runs slowest gets stung, baybeyy!! so yea, in school sports became her LIFE. she was gonna get a sports scholarship to college but ended up dropping out of school in senior year n becoming one of those kids who could have had it all but lost it.

—  she had sex with sutter at a house party when she wasnt really ready because it felt like the right thing to do at the time and everybody else was doing it. she’d attended health class, she’d seen the corny videos. she knew about all the statistics, but she also knew that it had never happened to anyone she knew and the pull out method was basically safer than the morning after pill and way less expensive.

—  a teenage pregnancy knocked her out of the runnings for prom queen and meant she had to leave school early. she didn’t go to college when her friends did, instead she spent the time interviewing potential foster candidates and eating her weight in lindt chocolate while marathoning love island in her room.  

—  she had a son, who she passed off to someone else a couple of towns away.  it was a closed adoption which seemed like the best idea at the time, but she now wishes she had access to his life.

—  after peaking in high school and jumping between jobs for a few years, she got a more permanent role at scuba which she loves with all of her heart and soul, but unfortunately a bar job doesn’t pay the rent.  

—  she works at summer camps coaching  junior soccer and netball on the side. she’s extremely competitive and takes it very personally if her team lose. the kids all call her, coach colby n write her longwinded letters about how they’ll never forget this summer camp before they go back to their suburban picket fence houses n she keeps all the letters in a drawer n takes them out to read when she’s feelin depressed.

—  enjoys surfing and worked for a number of years on resorts like mila kunis’ job in forgetting sarah marshall. she went on to work 18-hour days as a stewardess on luxury yachts which is a part of her backstory i added after watching season one of below deck because i guess i really am that fucking impressionable. met most of her surf friends doing tht but said she’d never in her life do it again bcos it was mostly just picking up after rich white ppl for shit pay. she came back to irving n thats when she started doing the summer camp jobs so she could move out of the creek n get her own apartment. 

—  she never actually finished senior year so she’s currently going to night school at the community college to get through her exams and is trying to save to go to college or open university. she wants to major in criminology. she’s super ambitious but also super adhd so she fluctuates between thinking she can achieve anything to just feeling like a failure n thinkin whats the point

—  used to shoplift to feel joy and as an act of resistance to her hippy commune routes, but now sees herself as a reformed, bin-diving freegan (sims 4 eco living can i get a hell yaaaa). also she thinks it’s totally wrong to steal when you have enough money and clearly don’t need to steal to survive, ppl risk imprisonment for basic necessities, so for her to do it for a brief thrill and some new shades felt a bit derogatory

—  was raised jewish. became a vegetarian as a child because it seemed, at the time, easier than having to explain which foods she was and wasn’t allowed to eat together, so she just cut out meat entirely. still a vegetarian now and dabbles in veganism, although its become less about not eating certain meats in the milk of their mother and more about her global impact / carbon footprint

—  nurses little animals to health in her garden. has a hedgehog name OJ short for orange juice not the other one filthy pig. her and her dad have always been huge animal rights activists and existed on a vegetarian diet. the only one in their house who isn’t vegetarian is their cat, auggie. (short 4 augustus gloop)

—  has a lot of stupid ass stick and poke tattoos. there was a phase during her years as a barmaid where she wanted to train as a tattoo artist n would mostly practice on herself or any friends who would let her

—  she doesn’t form many long lasting friendships cos she tends to be super excited when she makes a new friend and just see them all the time but then it wears off and she can ghost a bit. she’ll always coming pinging back but she’s not the most predictable or loyal friend, sometimes she’ll sleep in your house every night for a week and then you won’t even get a text from her for a month. her best friends are elderly neighbours and houseless people she meets when volunteering at the foodbank. she thinks they’re more authentic than most of the ‘fake posers’ she meets down the vela pier

—  calls herself a butch lesbian but still has sex with men when she wants validation. sexually attracted to some men, especially effeminate men, but only romantically attracted to women. very possessive of the gals in her life.

—  stopped giving a shit about getting older or adhering to anyone elses bullshit standards, realised it was all fake p much as soon as she dropped out of school and one by one her friends just stopped texting her

—  lives in one of the lofts in port apartments. it’s open plan with rugs and lava lamps everywhere. she has a palette bed. its all very ‘sustainable chic’. like, oh wow, a pallet bed that im supposed to think you made from scratch but i KNOW you got it  off ebay because you thought it looked trendy

—  constantly says shes poor but still buys clothes from urban outfitters. sus.

—  frequently found at fannies flirting with the cute bisexual bartender with a choppy black bob.

general vibe / personality

vibrant, vulgar, self-absorbed, tenacious, veers bewteen apathetic and dogmatic, temperamental, flighty, unreliable, magnetic, charismatic, passive aggressive, likes to play devil’s advocate, takes the moral high ground. estp and a leo

likes: 70s music, john wayne movies, black mirror, philosophy, cowboy chic culture, dc comics, the smell of locker rooms,, deep red lipstick, lacrosse sticks, smoking weed from a bong, dogs, karaoke, pet rats, kate moss, late-night strolls, hawaaiian shirts worn open over a bralette, skinned knees, thai food, picking the apples at the very top of the trees, zip-lining, cigarettes, the idea of pegging but not the practical application of it, decorative lamps, LGBTQ+ pin badges, worn-out furniture, twangy electric guitars.

dislikes: girls who call other girls ‘pick me’ girls, woody allen movies, mental mathematics, wealthy children, quentin tarantino, ironing, institutionalised misogyny, the imaginary future, french literature, ‘dump him’ feminism, wes anderson films, spoken word poetry nights, college-educated bar staff who act like they’re better than you,  indie softbois, the general mentality of cheerleading squads.

aesthetics

orange peel, the smell of bleach, skeleton drawings in the margins of a journal, thumb holes poked through the cuffs of your sleeves, bleach white sneakers pounding on a gymnasium floor, setting dumpsters on fire for the hell of it. a hit flask of vodka decorated with hello kitty stickers, split knuckles, alien conspiracy theories and sci-fi paperbacks, doc martens with fraying laces, a child in an oversize bee keepers suit, scabbed knees, not eating your greens, smiling with a mouthful of blood, and piercing your own ears with a safety pin when your dad wouldn’t take you,  a tennis racket you punched through in a fit of temper, feet pounding the earth until your soles bleed crimson, sleeping in a cherry lip balm and scrunchies to keep the wild locks from your eyes.

hoo boy this is getting LONG AS FUCK but here are my wanted plots

wanted plots

ok margo’s been in irving since she was like 10. she’s quite a vivacious person?? she dresses completely instinctively without any sense of cohesion so she stands out. a guy once told her she was wearing the ugliest outfit he’d ever seen and he thought that was so cool and brave of her. but anyway where was i going.. she grew up in the abernathy creek so stuck out like a sore thumb,,,, maybe ppl who were super interested in the creek or maybe poked fun at her bcos of it idk.....

b4 she dropped out, margo used 2 b in with the cool kids at school bcos her dad would buy them booze and rarely ask for the money. maybe a fun plot cld b with some of the ‘it girls’ she used to hang around with b4 she got pregnant n dropped out and they all went off to college n stopped texting her.

frinds !! unlikely friends !! toxic friends !! some1 she feels like she knew before irving ???

since margo literally can’t differentiate between romantic and platonic love, she’s got off with so many of her mates, so i want awkward friendships where they nearly dated, or exes that have now just turned into weird friendships. fwbs. enemies with benefits. all the angst. all the slow burn mutual pining we hate each other narratives

locals who play sports. margo wld be all over community soccer n take it way too seriously. maybe ppl she plays hockey with. girls who she’s like, weirdly intimate with but its not a thing cos the other girls straight !!! what do u mean !! aha just fun !

she works part time at scuba. i want a mate that just goes and sits in there talking to her until her manager gets angry.

she's also a surf instructor and occasionally works as a lifeguard!! gal has like 7 jobs ik but regular swimmers hmu

ppl she coaches at the gym !! she wants to be a personal trainer

i reckon she might have recently started meditating to try and calm down her mind cos its always bustling with thoughts, n i think she’s p interested in buddhism so if anyone’s a buddhist hmu

someone she’s trying to make a zine with on female empowerment and women in film and art, etc. just a very feminist zine. 

TLDR:  angry sports gay, former high school track prodigy turned drop out, who likes feminist literature, wearing leather jackets over slip dresses, and smudged red lipstick.

this was so long !!! im sorry !! if you’ve read this far have a biscuit, love x

[itseivwhore]

~/Assassins as different literary movements' poets/~

✷ 　 　　 　 · 　 ˚ * . 　 　　 *　　 * ⋆ 　 . · 　　 ⋆ 　　　 ˚ ˚ 　　 ✦ 　 ⋆ · 　 * 　　　　 ⋆ ✧　 　 · 　 ✧　✵ 　 · ✵

I am a lover of literature,of all genres and movements (but without a doubt,like everyone else,I have my own favourites,and I will not stay here to explain and motivate my personal choice,because we are not here for this reason!¡!¡).

Today I finished reading 'Notre Dame de Paris' (by Victor Hugo),and I immediately started another book, 'The picture of Dorian Gray' (by Oscar Wilde)

And as soon as I started reading the first few lines,I immediately thought...what if the Assassins were poets,writers?What literaly movement would they be part of?

And I think it's a good idea to share this with both other well acculturated fans of Assassin's Creed and literature's fans too.

~~~

I took in consideration only (yes,only) two specifics literaly movements:Romanticism and Decadent movement. Why only these two?Because (totally not a coincidence I swearrr),the books I have were respectly written by a romanticism writer (Victor Hugo),and by a decadent writer (Oscar Wilde). And also because there are A LOT of various literaly movements,and A LOT of Assassins (that's why I only made some of them):so since I didn't want to make a super long speech,I had to choose the literaly movements I am more accustomed with,for then linking them with some of the Assassins that I assumed would go well with the Romanticism and/or with the Decadentism.

Now let's get into it,shall we?

~~~

Firs of all,let's start with the main definition of the two literaly movements (shout out to the ols books I have at home,and to some research on Internet wowee!!)

•Romanticism:

artistic,musical,cultural and literary movement that developed in Germany towards the end of the eighteenth century and then spread to the rest of Europe in the nineteenth century.Romanticism focuses on the imagination,the instinctive side of men and their tormented relationship with nature and what surround them.Romantic men and women are courageous,stretched towards an unreachable desire:grasping the soul of things,to merge with nature and to be part of history.An arduous thing,to say at least impossible.Perhaps this is why romantics are always a little melancholic,but never apathetic.It's the melancholy of those who know they'll fight to the end for a 'batte' they already know they have lost...maybe.It's the melancholy of those who fight with an ardent,relentless passion,pursuit,against a society which is blind to the true essence of things in life.Yet,apart from being melancholic,Romanticism keep some faith,looking at the nature and trying to understand it at its best,denying any kind of rules,there are no limits.

•Decadentism:

very important literary movement of the second half of the 19th century.It may be similiar with the movement we talked up there before,but the Decadentism borns by the ashes of the Romanticism,but by being more extreme.The men of the decadent movement,in Europe,are dissatisfied with the rationalism of Positivism (a previous movement),but they are a bit nauseated by the bourgeois world,by the society that imposes rules and labels (and let's face it,hypocritical too),and they react by seeking in art and literature a way to feel better and to scandalize the well-thinking minds of the bourgeois that they despise so much.(little note to make things more interesting and less boring;definition of the term Decadentism:'décadent' is a French term,used in France in those days to define,in a derogatory meaning,artists who lived in a scandalous way,between drugs,luxury and other excesses.After a while,a magazine was founded by these scandalous writers who,in a provocative way,chose to call it "Le Décadent". Hence the term Decadentism will be used to indicate the decadence of the society that no longer had true values and that is disappointing them so much).But in which way they want to scandalize the high society?They're extremely spontaneous,there is no rigor in their speeches but just a lot of feeling.Plus,they tell rough episodes:they talk about sex,drugs,homosexual experiences too (obviously they're not experiences they make for the sole purpose of shocking;they're exuberant,rebellious and passionate characters and showing their life is the way they provoke the audience).Let's say,they are jus a bunch of cheeky,cocky people.

~~~~~

Ezio Auditore: Romanticism.

sweet smiles,calm glances,warm yet fervent eyes,gentle touches,low soothing voice,deep speeches,enjoyment;red ribbons,leather coat,glass of red wine;sunny days,grass field,soft cool breeze,spring afternoons,clear sky,smell of trees in bloom;instinct,nostalgic thoughts,family,fogged memories,strenght,faith,hope,truth,battle;reading poems,candlelight,incense,summer evenings;hearty laughters,reserved whispers,red cheeks,passional kisses.

~~~~~

2. Arno Dorian: Romanticism.

dark circles under the eyes,emotional veiled dark eyes,messy hair,scars,tears,deep sighs,love letters,desperation,lost memories,longing,tormented,melancholic bitter smiles,empty bottles of wine,insomnia,late nights,yet rising from the ashes;new pursuit,shiny sparkling gazes,charismatic grins,brilliant ideas,fancy clothes,red scarf,rolled up sleeves,golden bottons;early autumn cold mornings,old books,smell of fireplace,paintings on the wall;time,desire,nostalgic grimaces,humming a song,candid murmurs,promises.

~~~~~

3. Edward Kenway: Decadentism.

intense blue eyes,sunkissed skin,wide smiles,free will,clever glances,sharp gaze,messy blonde hair,loud confident tone,heavy accent,renegade;deep sea,salty wind,clear water,warm sunrises,calm sunsets,violent waves,morbid sand,cloudy sky,starry nights,stargazing,gold,treasure,tongues of the fire;rough insults,impertinent voice,arrogant speeches,drunk rambles,lost in luxury,tempting tone;ambition,fantasizing,dreaming,seeking the unbelievable,opposing,living.

~~~~~

4. Jacob Frye: Decadentism.

cocky smirks,hazel glimmering eyes,cheeky grins,nonchalant tone,laid back,mocking glances,loud voice,quick charming winks;slicked back hair,messy tie,black leather coat,strong cologne;confident,proud,wild,carefree,small of a egocentric,reckless brash actions,sarcastic comebacks,excited shouts,resolute answers,authoritative spirit,leader,louds amused laughters;full mugs of beer,playing cards,money,bets,late evenings in pubs,secret reunions;smell of fireplaces,foggy late London nights,rainy days,grey clouds;vintage Victorian house,wodden messy desk,king size bed,sound of muffled sweet moans,countless days of passional pleasure.

[alysemeadfad]

𝕽𝖊𝖇𝖊𝖑𝖑𝖎𝖔𝖓

Most would say its easy for a teenager to rebel at any point in time, but I find it hard to rebel in any way, most teens get tattoos, piercings, cut and dye their hair to rebel against their parents, but growing up with a mom who is tattooed, hair in fun dyed styles and piercings, I’m really just following in her footsteps she practically encourages. 

The only thing I rebel against is tidying my room and making cups of tea, cant really say I could start a world changing rebellion on that.

Rebellions i find important

1903–18 — Women’s Suffrage Movement The foundation of the Women’s Social and Political Union by Emmeline Pankhurst in 1903 began a more militant phase of the call for votes for women, which had been growing through the end of the 19th century. The Suffragettes used militant tactics like vandalism, arson, bombing and hunger strikes, with one member committing public suicide by throwing herself under the King’s horse at a race in 1913. The movement was wound up when some women were enfranchised in the 1918 Representation of the People Act, before all women over 21 were given the vote in 1928.

Suffragette Vera Wentworth in 1909, and the dress by Vaquera that it inspired

Stonewall riots 28 Jun 1969 – 3 Jul 1969 The Stonewall riots were a series of spontaneous demonstrations by members of the gay community in response to a police raid that began in the early morning hours of June 28, 1969, at the Stonewall Inn in the Greenwich Village neighborhood of Manhattan, New York City.

It is said that Marsha P. Johnson was the one who started the rebellion. Supposedly, throughout the bustle of the raid, Marsha threw a shot glass into a mirror and shouted, ” I got my civil rights!”.  With this inspiration and resistance against the police, other patrons began to follow.

Present day- Me Too movement.The Me Too movement, with variations of related local or international names, is a social movement against sexual abuse and sexual harassment towards women, where people publicize allegations of sex crimes.

The Punk Rebellion

the punk involved no protests or riots, it impacted people, fashion, music, society and everything to be honest.

The punk subculture advocates a do-it-yourself (DIY) ethic. During the subculture's infancy members were almost all from a lower economic class, and had become tired of the affluence that was associated with popular rock music at the time. Punks would publish their own music or sign with small independent labels, in hopes to combat what they saw as a money hungry music industry. The DIY ethic is still popular with punks.ideology's of punks

Ideology

Punk political ideologies are mostly concerned with individual freedom and anti-establishment views. Common punk viewpoints include individual liberty, anti-authoritarianism, a DIY ethic, non-conformity, anti-collectivism, anti-corporatism, anti-government, direct action and not "selling out".

Some groups and individuals that self-identify as being a part of punk subculture hold right-wing views. The belief that such views are opposed to the original ethos of the punk subculture, and its history, has led to internal conflicts and an active push against such views being considered part of punk subculture at all. Two examples of this are an incident during the 2016 American Music Awards, where the band Green Day chanted anti-conservative, anti-racist, and anti-fascist messages, and an incident at a show by the Dropkick Murphys, when bassist and singer Ken Casey, tackled an individual for giving a nazi-style salute and later stated that nazis are not welcome at a Dropkick Murphys show. Band member Tim Brennan later reaffirmed this sentiment. The song "Nazi Punks Fuck Off" by hardcore punk band Dead Kennedys has come to be considered an anti-nazi anthem.

VIV WESTWOOD

Rejecting the hippie ethos that was fashionable towards the end of the 1960s, Westwood and McLaren created clothes that referenced youth culture's recent past, selling rock'n'roll fashion in a shop unit at 430 King's Road in Chelsea. In 1974, the shop took on its most notorious identity: SEX, with Westwood and McLaren designing fetish wear that they sold to prostitutes, those with 'underground' sexual tastes, and young proto-punks brave enough to take a seriously edgy look out onto the street. The pair enjoyed shocking people, designing garments and shoes that referenced 'deviant' sexual practices, including rubber dresses and stilettos bristling with spikes.

How punk influenced me, because it influenced the world

My take on rebellion

Westwood inspired tights.

after watching a documentary on vivien westwood and the birth of the punk revolution i created some westwood inspired tights as a little spontaneous brainstorm, did not develop any further on the tights.

i used a pair of brand new white tights and put holes all in them, this is non conformist as if a regular pair of tights had a hole you would bin them as they were no good any more, but purposely putting holes in is quite rebellious in that aspect, i used sharpies to draw triggering symbols and words such as a swastikka and ‘punk fag’ .

crayon drawings

i used crayons to create these images as i thought it was a more rebellious medium and its created for kids so that is non conforming and it gives a rough diy finish look making it look slightly unfinished

i created a lesbian nun, this was a spur of the mind thought whats socially good and respected? a nun? whats the opposite of what a nun preaches, homo behavior. 

here i did a little barbie series drawing from observational on one and on another from mind and another from an image which i created by burning a barbie ehich is quite a rebellious act in a way. 

Collages

i decided to do some collages as its a way of just slapping ideas out in a visual format, my first one was using a fashion magazine and i realized this was the way to go so i printed some punk imagery and even used my own crayon drawings to create more collages.

photo shop

i wanted to mess with these collages more on a digital format so i put them in to photo shop to play with them and generate more ideas this was giving me a poster vibe which reminded me of punk posters.

 Final ideas

i used images from the new york trip to create a vision on photo shop, using a light of the american flag,sign posts, bins with posters on them.a clip art image of a chain and lock,street art and stickers i saw on poles in the street which is another form or street art which is quite rebellious as its not socially acceptable to vandalize and graffiti on public areas.

i took a few elements from the last board and included them in this vision board, i really wanted the main focus to be on the pipe that says “the rich killed nyc” i feel like it has a deep meaning behind it and it is quite rebellious as it reminded me of the punk rebellion in the uk as it was mostly lower class working people who used art, music and fashion to rebel against society and social constructs and actively non conform to the “rules” in a way. i also used a sticker that says jesus loves you and i crossed it out and wrote hate you over the loves you part as that is fitting to my rebellious visions.

in this board i again used “ the rich killed nyc” pipe as that’s my main surrounding element, i uses another pole with stickers on though you cant really tell what the stickers are, it just fits the aesthetic. i used a statue of liberty as she is known as a symbol of freedom, and along side it i used a photo of a photograph i saw in the modern art museum where this person had dyke tattooed on their neck which is a derogatory word to gay women, and that’s quite rebellious to take a bad word and own it by tattooing it on your body .

in this board i moved away from “the rich killed nyc” pipe as i felt i needed to come away from that one element for one board and to broaden my ideas. in this one i used a sky line image i took when on the ferry to liberty island, i changed the colour to black and white as the original colours of the image are quite blue and orangy, i used a sign post that says one way as it for some reason reminded me of like “one way to hell” or something and that there feels like there is no choice or individuality in the phrase “one way” . i used text over the sky line that says “the rotten apple” as new york city is known as the big apple and i thought, when i was there it did not remind me of a big fresh beautiful apple as the homeless people on the streets and the graffiti that has no artistic intent, so it was more of a rotten apple in a way. i used an image of the american flag i took on liberty island as i used an image of an american flag light, so i thought i could link back to that idea and use an actual flag, as its to represent freedom. i also used a art piece from the modern art gallery which was just a male mannequin wearing a bra which does not fit the social constrict of what men should wear there for its quite rebellious and opposite to the one way system. 

in my final board i included the american flag, a chain over it completely doing the opposite of what the flag means which is freedom, i used the bun that says don’t be afraid of anyone with an edited red paint drip on it which kind of looks like blood, i used text that says “ the rich killed nyc” as i loved that phrase bit i over used the pole in the other boards and i liked that my main message is that the rich killed nyc, i used an image of my dr martens that i took while my feet were up against a pole as i sat on a tube, showing anti social behavior basically which is stereo typically rebellious,and also dr martens were quite fashionable in the uk punk rebellion so i’m hinting to my idea that was inspired by the uk punk rebellion, and finally i have a set of traffic lights which are about order and control, the light is also on red which signifies danger, and the word stop which fits to my idea.

[lingbooks]

Wordslut: A Feminist Guide to Taking Back the English Language

While I know a lot of linguists who are feminists, there is some tension between feminist ideals and the anti-prescriptivist approach that linguists take towards language. Linguists, as a general rule, aim to document and examine language as it is used, without providing their own opinions on how they think language should be used. This approach to language allows linguists to show that certain forms of language, from split infinitives to singular they, are not bad or wrong or “grammatically incorrect.” However, when it comes to sexist language, it’s a lot harder to say that there’s no such thing as “bad” language use. 

Some of the questions that arise are easily answered. It is fairly easy to distinguish between using slurs and splitting infinitives, as slurs are meant to hurt or disparage people, while split infinitives only offend the sensibilities of some long dead men who desperately wished English were more like Latin. But what about less malicious language use that still has sexist undertones? What about calling ships or storms she? What about using the word guys to refer to groups that contain women?

 I thought a lot about this contradiction while reading Wordslut: A Feminist Guide to Taking Back the English Language by Amanda Montell, a book that attempts to cover a wide variety of topics related to language and gender. Montell’s background in linguistics admittedly isn’t particularly extensive—she has a bachelor’s degree in linguistics, but she’s primarily a journalist who only occasionally writes about linguistics. (I should probably also state that, depending on how you count my graduate work in a related field, I have the same amount of linguistics education, so I’m not going to make any judgments on who “really counts” as a linguist.) That said, Wordslut is definitely a linguistics book—and a pretty good one at that.

 Wordslut covers a broad variety of topics in sociolinguistics. Some are expected. The first chapter discusses the variety of (often derogatory) slang words used to describe women, while another chapter discusses the ways women speak to each other. Other chapters cover topics I see less frequently. One chapter, for example, looks at how women swear, while another looks at the vast array of slang words used to refer to genitalia. (I’d warn you that this book is NSFW, but if you’re reading a book entitled Wordslut at work in the first place, you’re a braver soul than I am.) One of my favorite chapters focused on how gay people speak, including both discussions of gay slang as well as examining why there’s a “gay voice” but no real “lesbian voice.” While I already was familiar with some of the topics in the chapter, I was not aware of Polari, a sort of code once used by British gay men as early as the 1500s that gave us such words as twink, camp, and fantabulous, and now I definitely want to know more about it. On a similar note, throughout the book, Montell makes sure to discuss queer, trans, and nonbinary experiences when relevant, which provides perspective that’s usually lacking in older writing about language and gender.

I did find that the quality varied from chapter to chapter—or even within the same chapter. Consider, for example, the chapter on catcalling. One section of the chapter compared catcalling behaviors with linguistic studies on compliments, breaking down precisely why catcalling is not a compliment. I thought this was a really interesting analysis, but I found the rest of the chapter fairly dull; some of it discussed facts I (and most other feminists) already know about how men dominate conversations and interrupt women, while other parts talked about the act of catcalling more generally. (A problem I found throughout the book is that Montell sometimes chose to discuss general feminist issues without really tying them back to linguistics.) While some of this unevenness is to be expected in a book with such a broad scope, one pattern emerged: I generally enjoyed the portions discussing how women speak, such as the chapter about conversational norms in groups of women or the section about the many uses of like, more than the portions discussing how women are spoken about. Perhaps this is because the former read like a celebration, while the latter was more of a rant. Montell is not happy about how our culture talks about women, and while I don’t disagree with her, I often found myself more frustrated than properly fired up.

It is worth noting that Montell is not an impartial voice throughout the book. She wants our language to become more equitable. Mostly, her ambitions are good. (And in her defense, she notes that certain approaches to making language more equitable, such as attempts in 70s to create a “women’s language” or storming a dictionary headquarters to demand the word slut be removed, are unlikely to be successful.) But in doing so, sometimes her own linguistic biases shine through. Consider, for example, an anecdote from the intro of the book, where Montell gives the following speech to a woman who critiques her use of the word y’all:

I like to see y’all as an efficient and socially conscious way to handle the English language’s lack of a second-person plural pronoun. I could have used the word you to address the two girls, but I wanted to make sure your daughter knew I was including her in the conversation. I could also have said you guys, which has become surprisingly customary in casual conversation, but to my knowledge, neither of these children identifies as male, and I try to avoid using masculine terms to address people who aren’t men, as it ultimately works to promote the sort of linguistic sexism many have been fighting for years. I mean, if neither of these girls is a guy, then surely together they aren’t guys, you know?

 It’s a nice “take down the prescriptivist” story in some ways, but while I agree that y’all is a perfectly acceptable and useful word, Montell tries to argue that she chose to use y’all not just because her geographical and linguistic background make it the natural choice for her but because it’s the best choice, thereby turning an anti-prescriptivist argument into a prescriptivist one. Later in the same speech, she dismisses the option of using the pronoun yinz because it “doesn’t roll off the tongue nicely.”  I’m more intrigued, however, by her insistence that it would be sexist to use you guys. Montell notes, “Many speakers genuinely believe guys has become gender neutral. However, scholars agree that guys is just another masculine generic in cozier clothing. There’d be no chance of you gals earning the same lexical love.”  However, she provides no real evidence that guys isn’t truly neutral to speakers who use it, only that it is less marked than gals and that only masculine terms can ever reach this level of unmarkedness. I can’t help but wonder if it’s speakers who are excluding women when using phrases like you guys or if Montell simply hears it that way due to her own linguistic background.

 Another issue I had with this book is that it heavily focuses on English. While the topics discussed throughout the book are fairly universal, only one chapter provides any non-English examples. However, given how Montell handles these non-English examples, especially those from non-Western languages, in that one chapter, that might be for the best. The chapter examines how grammatical gender affects speakers’ perceptions of natural gender, as well as the political consequences, and at points, it’s very effective. I was particularly intrigued by her discussion of French feminists’ attempts to introduce feminine terms for certain jobs in a language where words like doctor are obligatorily masculine (and l’Académie Française is trying very hard to keep them that way). A few pages later, Montell moves onto talk about more complex gender and noun class systems. She gives the now famous example of Dyirbal, where most animate nouns belong to one noun class but “women, fire, and dangerous things” belong to another. She then concludes that this demonstrates that this shows something about Dyirbal speakers’ worldviews—that they see everything as masculine unless it could “literally kill you.” It’s a compelling argument in some ways, but it’s hard to discuss Dyirbal speakers’ worldviews without remembering one thing: Dyirbal is an indigenous Australian language with a single-digit number of native speakers. Yes, it has an interesting—and perhaps problematic—approach to gender, but it’s tied to a very specific (and mostly eradicated) cultural context, and it simply isn’t problematic in the same way as l’Académie Française. 

Overall, while I had my issues with Wordslut, I had a good time reading it . It’s not a must read, but if you’re looking for a fun, modern source on gender and language, it’s certainly entertaining and informative. It’s also a book that can definitely be enjoyed by linguists and non-linguists alike; there’s not much jargon that would trip up a non-linguist, but it covers a wide enough variety of topics that linguists (at least those who don’t specialize in sociolinguistics) won’t already know everything it covers. In general, if you’re interested in linguistics and feminism, you’ll probably have a good time and learn something new.

TL;DR

Overall rating: 3.5/5 Good for linguists? Yes, unless you’re already an expert in sociolinguistics Good for non-linguists? A definitive yes, since this assumes no background in linguistics Strong points: Broad scope and a fun, modern overview of the intersection between language and gender Weak points: Very English-centric, and the author’s outrage overshadows the actual information sometimes

[iamkatehardy]

Only One (Alfie Solomons x Reader) - Pt 1

Request:  Anon: “Hello would you mind writing an Alfie who really likes this shy girl who works in some shop near him. She already has s boyfriend but Alfie doesn't care and goes to her work a lot just to get to talk & flirt with her but she always gets embarrassed and shyer when he flirts and he loves that. She catches her boyfriend cheating on her and now Alfie can make his move😉 could u use smut prompt list #64 #37 please you can change any of this however you need to whatever works for you.”

Warnings: Cursing ; Cute Alfie

A/N: I’m splitting this in 2 parts, because I don’t want you to wait any longer! There is no smut yet, I need to polish Alfie x Reader relation! 😏 

Leave your feedback, me and your favourite Jew will be very thankful!❤

  Only One (Alfie Solomons x Reader)

The role of the ideal housewife was never enough for you; you always wanted much more, to feel entirely fulfilled, and you thrived.

You had the work bug, plus your dexterity with the needles and creativity put most of the other dressmakers to shame. In no time, you had one of the busiest stores in town, so you expanded the business to serve your growing clientele, moving to a roomier shop in Camden Town and hiring an Italian tailor to be able to work with men’s clothing too.

Although it was a huge success, perhaps not everyone had noticed it yet. As one of the rulers of most part of Camden, Alfie Solomons used to pay local businesses a visit, not only as a reminder of who was in charge , but also most likely to demand a share, “for operating in his town”. Your turn hadn’t come yet; he was busy with his own expansion plans, involving a strategic partnership with some old friends, to make it through the crisis after the Italians’ attacks.

“I’m not sure I trust Elazar, but I have no choice, a’ight? Aside from him having a shitload of money, all the others are eating in his fuckin’ hand, for whatever reason. He’s not an honorable man, that’s one thing I’m sure about! Can you believe that cunt is even living in concubinage with some Shiksa?! (derogatory word for non-Jewish women) – In a sudden fit of anger and frustration, Alfie swept the paper off his desk with his left hand, throwing all the work of the past few days to the floor. His fingers ran through his messy hair in desperation, he couldn’t stand not have control.

“Alfie…” – Ollie bent down to pick the papers up and placed them on the desk again.

“Not now. Not today.” – The burning wrath in his eyes could reach a person’s soul in second, but he soon acknowledged the fact that the situation wasn’t Ollie’s fault. Taking a deep breath, he closed his eyes, his fingertips rubbing his throbbing temples. – “Why don’t you take the rest of the day off, mate? I can’t look at these anymore. We think about it tomorrow, with a clear head.”

Ollie merely nodded in assent, but when he was about to leave he turned to his boss again.

“Will you be ok?” – The hardships in Alfie’s life always made Ollie worry, almost like a son; despite the filthy temper and all the outbursts, Alfie was his mentor and they cared for each other.

“Stop worrying, little boy.”- Alfie chuckled lowly. - “Fuckin’ Solomons always find a way, even when it seems there isn’t any, innit?” – Narrowing his eyes, his hand came to his chin and he stroked his beard thoughtfully. -  “Now go, live a little. You’re at the right age for it.” – With a wave of his hands, Alfie shooed his assistant away.

“You should live a little too. Anyway, have a good evening.”

“You cheeky little…” – Alfie shook his head, watching him disappear in the distance, but deep down he knew maybe Ollie was right.

Maybe he should really live a little too, before it was too late.

After gathering his things, he grabbed his coat and left the office, heading outside. The street was busier than usual, more than he expected, as it was cold and getting later I the day.

“Hey! Come here, little boy.” – Alfie called a little kid over; children were honest most of the time and too young to be afraid of him, unlike most people in Camden.

The boy approached slowly. Eventually, he stood near Alfie’s feet. The gangster looked down at the kid, who was looking up at him with big innocent eyes. After searching in his pockets for a long time, Alfie held a wad of cash in his hand. With the other hand on his lower back to hold the pain, he crouched down until he was at the kid’s height and handed him a note.

“What is all this fuss about, little man?” – He knitted his eyebrows together, almost imperceptibly, pointing at the crowd.

“The store that opened down the street, I think.” – The kid shyly took the money out of Alfie’s hand, bowing thankfully.

“What kind of store?” – Alfie’s eyes narrowed.

“I’m not sure, Sir. But they give you chocolates; maybe that’s why people go there.” – The kid shrugged and Alfie couldn’t help quirking his lips up in response.

“A’ight, thank you for your help.” – Alfie rubbed the kid’s head and stood up slowly, with a groan of pain.

After stuffing the money on his pocket, the kid ran happily down the street.

“These bastards will learn the hard way to think twice before they do anything without my fuckin’ say-so!” – Annoyed, he cussed under his breath and moved faster, scanning the street for the new store.

The sky had turned black and the rain was starting to pour down heavily, but it didn’t stop him. Slightly limping down the street, his expression was menacing, it seemed as if he was determined to start a fight with whoever challenged his power; maybe he just wanted to take his problems out on somebody else, either way, it was the perfect excuse.

Finally he saw an unfamiliar elegant store and just stormed inside, looking really pissed. The furniture looked new and luxuriously comfortable and the collection of antique artwork that adorned the place seemed to be priceless. There was a soothing record playing and a pleasant floral smell on the air, that somehow made him go back to his childhood days.

The store was already closed by then; you were working on the sewing room in the back, to get a head start on next day’s work. When you heard the door open, you popped through the velvet curtains the two parts of the store.

Beholding the man before you, you smiled and approached the counter. It was after hours already, but you weren’t willing to lose a costumer.  His attire made you immediately think he was probably Jew by birth and upbringing.

“Shalom.” – You greeted him softly, and then cast your eyes down shyly, dropping your gaze to the ledge under your hands.

“Shalom.” - Alfie raised a brow as his eyes moved to you. – “I would like to speak to the owner, personally.”

“That’s me.” – When your eyes met, a smile formed on your lips and Alfie’s blood seemed to warm. – “How can I help you, Sir?”

All his courage to scold and fight the owner of the shop immediately disappeared. Rubbing his lids with the back of his hands, he stammered indecipherable words that sounded to you like Yiddish.

As you tilted your head, studying him, your eyes widened a bit and shone brighter than he had ever seen in his life. Noticing his soaked clothes and speechlessness, you wondered if maybe he just wanted shelter from the heavy rain and entered a random store. You picked up a towel and handed it to him, for him to wipe out his wetness.

“Thank you. Thank you, dove.” – He put his hat aside and took the towel, drying his head and face.

“Would you like a cup of tea, while you decide?” – You watched him drying himself and took the towel when he finished. - “Here, have a bonbon! These are kosher.” – Smiling encouragingly, you offered him a plate of assorted bonbons to choose from.

He put the candy in his mouth, letting it melt slowly.

“These are really sweet.” – He furrowed his eyebrows. – “But not as sweet as you seem to be.”

Although you opened your mouth, no word came out; you felt a furious blush flaming on your skin.

Trying to come up with an excuse for the situation he found himself in, he looked around him, letting out a loud breath and straightening his posture. Before saying anything else, he took another moment to watch your embarrassment, how your face was still burning in shame after the compliment; it was pretty adorable and it somehow amused him.

“I was wondering, do you sell hats here?” – He didn’t actually need the thousandth hat, but it was the first thing he came up with, so he’d stick with that excuse until he’d come up with something better.

“Yes, do you have anything in mind?” – Looking down to cover up the blush, you bit your thumb shyly.

“Lots of things, love.” – He came closer with a smile on the corner of his lips. - “As about the hat, something inconspicuous, but with a little style. Black, wide brim, preferably resistant.” –Shrugging, like the hat was actually no big deal, he constantly kept his eyes glued on you.

The first of his answer might have been innocent, but you blushed even more. No matter what words he spoke, his voice was enough to make a woman weak at the knees.

“I… I’ll see what I can get, just give me a minute. In the meanwhile, please, make yourself at home.” – You nodded to the sofas before you disappeared behind the curtains again.

He sat on the sofa and ran a hand through his hair, shaking his head and chuckling in a low tone.

“Composure, (Y/N), composure…” - In the backroom, you sat on the edge of a table and cleared your throat, putting your lightly shaky hand on your chest. After taking a sip of water, you searched in the boxes, trying to find those that met his requirements.

A few minutes later you returned with a half dozen boxes pilled in your hands and put them on the sofa, next to him.

“At the moment I have these. If you’d like something else, I can order it for you, it’ll take only a couple days.” – You gracefully sat on the arm of the couch, crossing your legs and arranging your skirt, before you opened the boxes one by one and started handing him the hats for him to try them on.

“How do I look?!” – Giving you a cocky smile, he turned his head to give you a profile view.

“Great!” – Leaning closer, you adjusted the hat into a slightly crooked position. – “Well, that’s more like it. Perfect.”

“I’ll take your word for it.” – Watching you with great interest, he blinked slowly. – “I’m taking them all.” – He took the hat off, putting it back in the box and got up, extending his hand to help you up.

Why the hell would someone buy so many hats that look almost exactly the same?

You looked at him in surprise and took his hand, getting up. Your hand lingered on his for a few seconds and the pad of his thumb rubbed your knuckles soothingly, sending a shiver through you, before you finally pulled it away, with a sheepish smile on your face.

“What name should I put on the receipt?” – You went behind the counter again.

“Alfred Solomons.” – Leaning against the counter, he paid for the hats and watched you write his answer down. He had gotten so close he could feel your warmth and your delicate fragrance with every intake of breath. – “But you may call me just Alfie, a’ight?”

“Deal.” – You gave him the receipt.

“It’s raining cats and dogs. I don’t think it’s a good idea to take all those boxes home in these circumstances, innit darling? Can I swing by tomorrow to get them?”

“Of course, Mr. Solomons.” – You intertwined your hands together and nodded cordially.

“Alfie.”

“I think you’re going to need this.” – You giggled and handed him an umbrella. – “So long, Alfie.”

“See you around…” – He tilted his head lightly to one side and lifted his brows. – “ Sorry, I don’t think I got your name.”

“(Y/N).”

“(Y/N).” – He nodded. – “A beautiful name for a beautiful woman, right?” – With a warm half-smile, he turned on his heel and left.

The next day, you waited for him to show up, constantly checking when a new client made it through the front door. It was half-hour to closing time and he still hadn’t shown up.

Alfie was at the bakery, in a meeting with Elazar, scrambling with last minute details on their settlement.

“Let’s make this quick, Elazar. I have an appointment, mate.” – He looked at his pocket watch to check if he still had time to go to your store; he did, but not much.

“Relax Alfie, I have an appointment too, maybe  two, or three.” – Elazar grinned maliciously.

“With your missus? Doesn’t count as an appointment.”

“Alfie, Alfie, Alfie… I wouldn’t expect you to understand, you’re not a ladies’ man after all, but your missus is your choice of pleasure if, and only if you have no other option available.”

“What… Excuse me?” – Alfie put his glasses down, giving him a nasty look.

“Think of a relationship as if it was just any other business; if you have the chance to have some side action and make a profit, you go for it, without blinking an eye.”

“How can you fuckin’ do that, mate?!” – Slightly irritated, Alfie swung his arms on the air.

“It’s really quite simple; women are very naïve when it comes to love.” – Elazar proudly started explaining. – “Tell her you love her and she’s the only one; make her believe that and she will be at your feet, which will basically make her buy any excuse you come up with. But keep her busy, so she won’t have much time to think about them, some women are smart enough to figure out the truth … Give her a small business, or let her teach little orphans, something like that. Use your imagination! Propose to her, if necessary, it will keep her in your hands until you are done with the little brat and find a better one.”

“I wasn’t asking how do you do it! I was asking how you can be such a cunt, actually. You give a woman goods and she will give you a heart cooked meal… You give her your house and she will make it your fuckin’ home… You give her your fuckin’ cum and she will return you your offspring! If you give her some affection, she will give you her fuckin’ heart! What is wrong with you?!”

“What is wrong with you, Alfie? That’s why you don’t get any action. Have you gone soft or what?”

“No, I simply respect women!” – Alfie’s unblinking eyes were fixed on the man ahead and his jaw was tight. – “You know what? If it’s alright with you, we can finish this another day.”

“As you wish. Call me later and let me know when.” – Elazar promptly picked his things up and left.

“What has this world come to? Thank you for everything  eema. (Mom, but I’m not sure of this) “ – Alfie pressed a hand to the medallion in his chest, before he checked his pocket watch again and hurriedly left the bakery, heading to the flower shop.

 Tag List: @carmen-kray , @titty-teetee , @iv-nyc , @but--dear-this-is-not-wonderland , @eap1935 , @ellar21 , @tiredoffeelinglost , @original-krays , @marvelgirl7 , @captstefanbrandt , @evilispretty-dead , @mollybegger-blog , @bignastyfan-nz , @scarrasco1325-deactivated201905 , @miidailyinspiration , @harleyquinns , @haroldpain , @marvelslut16 , @willowick13 , @outofbluecomesgreen , @elemeph , @my-little-lucky-scissors , @overitall2018 , @innerpaperexpertcloud , @matoki-darkpanda

[victoodles]

Fleur Sauvage

yeehaws but softly. back again, read it on AO3 and i hope you enjoy

Arthur is uncomfortable.

The sleeves of his stupid tuxedo are too tight and the cotton of his stupid bowtie is too itchy against his neck. But mostly, it’s because he’s surrounded on all sides by pompous displays of how the other half live.

Arthur has been encircled by wolves before, ravenous beasts of varying shapes and sizes. Unfortunately this time around he can’t shoot his way through the pack. If he had a say in the matter, he would take fangs and claws over coiffed hair and expensive suits any day of the week.

But he doesn’t. He rarely does, so here he stays.

The air is heavy with cigar smoke and foreign chatter. Arthur always presumed other languages would have an essence of beauty to them. Though as he overhears these gentlemen prattle on, cackling at their own self-proclaimed witticisms, he finds it to be extremely grating. Dutch insists though, as he is prone to do, that they continue to meet with the true master of Saint Denis.

Angelo Bronte.

A man with all the charm of a cottonmouth snake and twice as deadly. Every word that falls from his mouth is dripping with so much venom, Arthur is surprised listening to him hasn’t been fatal. Among those words is the promise of money; a key to freedom from the shackles of a modern word.

Now Arthur is the one to insist that Dutch reconsider his faith in this “parasite", as Arthur so fondly described. Dutch disregards it, telling him that home is just “one more score” out of reach. Arthur thinks that these grandiose fantasies are going to get them in over their heads more so then they already are. Hosea shares the sentiment but their unconditional loyalty has them tethered to this plan for the time being.

Angelo cackles from his perch on the manor’s balcony. He finds himself (both literally and figuratively) above the party-goers and that seems to fill him with malicious glee. They are merely bugs under his expensive shoes, and he’ll go well out of his way to stomp on them.

He sorts through the crowd one by one, expressing his contempt and expansive knowledge of Saint Denis’ denizens. Each one has a filthy secret that Angelo pours forth like fine wine. A jeer follows every name until his gaze falls upon a certain young lady, arm secured around Hosea’s.

“And who is this? I’ve never seen her before,” Angelo turns to his men with a smirk, “I’d certainly remember one so pretty.” Arthur tracks Angelo’s leering gaze to you, and his ire is sparked like flint. Taking a step forward to act, he aims to silence this lecherous cretin permanently.

Unfortunately, he is promptly stopped by Dutch’s hand, a silent plea to contain himself. It’s a small one and Dutch hopes Angelo doesn’t notice, they’re already on thin enough ice. Thankfully, he doesn’t.  

“Is she one of yours?” It’s posed as a question but Dutch knows he expects an answer - the right answer.

“Yes,” he answers immediately, “she’s like a daughter to me.” Dutch is careful not to give out too much information but still emphasizes you are no part of their meeting. “Just wanted to show her a good time away from the debauchery of our lifestyle. We think she deserved it, didn’t we Arthur?”

Every muscle in Arthur’s body is wound tight, ready to fight if you’re put in Angelo’s crosshairs. He clenches his jaw and manages to grit out an affirmation.

Another smirk spreads across Angelo’s lips. “Is that right?” He says something in Italian to his men, most likely a derogatory comment, before turning his attention back to the outlaws.

“It’s quite a crime to keep a flower like that out of reach. Such a beauty should,” he pauses to take another drag of his cigar, licking his lips lasciviously afterwords, “be enjoyed by all.”

Angelo seems to revel in the heat of Arthur’s rage; he’s garnered what you mean to him by reactions alone. Arthur’s trigger finger is suddenly restless; he wishes he had the sense to conceal a weapon. Dutch speaks again before Arthur sets this whole party ablaze.  

“We shall keep that in mind, Signore Bronte. Now, if you’ll excuse us,” Dutch begins to lead Arthur back inside.

“Yes, yes go! Enjoy, my friends!” He says with a dismissive wave before he returns to his own festivities. Angelo wears a mask of gracious host but Arthur can see the cracks in it, revealing the true monster underneath.

That doesn’t matter right now though. Arthur needs to get back to you.

As the two of them head back downstairs (Arthur a little more briskly in contrast) Arthur starts up with Dutch. “I told you bringing her along was a bad idea,” he growls. It’s clear Dutch doesn’t have the patience to placate Arthur right now.

“And I told you that we needed her! She still can speak their pretentious language. Discover leads that we couldn’t with our “barbaric” intellects.” Dutch says sardonically, paired with a roll of his eyes.

“Dutch,” Arthur warns but is once again interrupted.

“I will keep her safe, son. As I have done for all of us.” Dutch smiles fondly then. “You’ve got yourself quite a woman there, a true sheep in wolf’s clothing. I gather she won’t need much assistance from either of us.”

Arthur is momentarily rendered speechless. It was true, you were beyond capable of fending for yourself. But he still did not want to take any chances.

A man who held the world in the palm of his hand? What could someone with that type of power do to a woman closely associated with a (potential) enemy gang?

Arthur didn’t think himself overly imaginative but he could picture possible outcomes vividly. Too vividly.

One of many servants opened the main doors before those thoughts could evolve into more grotesque nightmares. Arthur is cruelly reminded of the events transpiring just beyond. However his racing mind is thankful for the distraction. He finds on the other side a dapper Hosea and Bill, looking even more miserable than himself.

But no you.

Arthur opens his mouth to inquire and Hosea has the answer before he can ask. It seems everyone’s in the habit of cutting Arthur off tonight.

Hosea tilts his head towards the courtyard. “Down there. She’s getting a head start on the mingling,” he informs his frantic son. Arthur’s feet carry him so fast he barely catches Dutch’s request to stay out of trouble. Wishful thinking but he’ll try his best regardless.

To Arthur, you stand out amongst the throng of people, clear as day. Your pink dress (you tell him it’s peach) compliments you completely. From the way it hugs your waist to the roses embroidered along the skirts. How fitting of a design, a wild rose with her own kind.  

An array of golden hair pins - courtesy of Miss Grimshaw’s heydey - keep your complicated braid in place. They shine like stars in the lamplight, twinkling faintly with every turn of your head. Your decolletage is bare of any jewelry, save for some cream colored lace along the sleeves of your gown. Arthur is oddly more distracted, eyeing the exposed skin hungrily.

Your beauty doesn’t hold a candle to any of the satin clad or feathered fan socialites. You are elegance personified and he aims to immortalize that within the confines of his journal later.  

Arthur makes his way forward, drawn to you as he often finds is the case. Obstacles in the form of other guests stand in his way and he wades through them. He doesn’t mean to push and shove; he is quite colossal when next to these dainty women. An apology comes in the form of a flute of champagne as to not stir up any more trouble before he presses onward.

Your company is being enjoyed by the mayor himself and his entourage. The gentlemen are enraptured by whatever it is you’re regaling them with. Hanging onto every pretty word and starring at you like you hung the moon. Arthur finds himself in the same position more often than not.

Laughter, airy and delicate, tugs at Arthur’s heart as he approaches. It envelops him; it’s a warmth he still isn’t accustomed to, especially in his line of work. But you coax him into it, and he learns his hands are still capable of gentleness.

You notice Arthur, a grin playing on your lips, and you stop mid-sentence to acknowledge him.  

“Oh Tacitus, my darling,” You coo, waltzing up and wrapping your arms snugly around Arthur’s neck. He fights to contain his guffaw at your act: the high society primadonna. It’s your favorite role to play whenever Hosea needs you for a swindle. And you play it exceptionally well.

A kiss is placed on his cheek, tantalizingly close to the corner of his lips. It’s a promise of more to come.

The mayor and his colleagues chuckle at this impromptu display of affection. “It seems your new bride is quite taken with you. What a shame for us, eh gentlemen?” The mayor asks, feigning disappointment which earns him a wave of laughter. You titter yourself, finding a new place around Arthur’s arm this time.

Arthur looks at you bemused, but humored. You take that as your cue to subtly fill him in on your little game. You smile affectionately at Arthur before turning attention back to the mayor. “I’m terribly sorry my good men, but my heart utterly belongs to my Tacitus,” you keen, dramatically casting a hand over your chest. If he wasn’t an actor in this play, Arthur would quite enjoy watching the performance.

"Mon coeur, it is broken!” The mayor jests and you playfully swat at his hand.

“Ne sois pas bête!” You tease back.

This French tit for tat goes right over Arthur’s head but he does understand something. Dutch was absolutely right in bringing you along. Not even an hour later and you already have a major city official wrapped around your finger. Color Arthur impressed (and slightly jealous). But then he remembers he is your “husband” after all, and the petty emotions are assuaged.

“And,” the mayor finally turns his focus to Arthur, “whose pleasure is it to have this delight of a woman for a wife?” Arthur sheds his skin of an outlaw and adapts, following your lead.

“Good evening,” he says smoothly, extending a hand out. “Tacitus Gilgore.” The mayor seems pleased at the gesture and eagerly shakes Arthur’s hand. You’re beaming at Arthur’s side at the interaction.

“Well it certainly is a pleasure Mister Gilgore. Henri Lemieux, mayor of this fine city.” There’s a hint of disgust in his words; Arthur doesn’t blame him. Henri gestures to his surrounding accompaniment and begins to introduce them. Arthur tunes it out - they don’t matter. Finding the mayor was his goal, not these buffoons.

Though his attention does perk up at the mention of a familiar name. “And this is Monsieur Evelyn Miller.”

“Like the writer?” Arthur inquires, earning another giggle from you.

“Yes darling,” you chirp enthusiastically. “He wrote all those books your father positively adored.” Your conversation takes a turn. “Tacitus is the sole inheritor of his father’s oil company,” you inform with a coy smile. A few of the men raise their eyebrows, impressed. The mayor included.

“Ah an oil proprietor?” Henri inquires. “Well, congratulations are in order. A beautiful wife and a flourishing business? You sir, are a very lucky man.” He reaches out and takes Arthur’s hand firmly in his.

“I look forward to speaking more with you, Monsieur Gilgore. But for now,” he relinquishes his hold on Arthur, “why don’t you and your young bride enjoy yourselves?”

Arthur places his now free hand on the small of your back. The satin feels soft under his calloused palms but he yearns more for skin to skin contact. Time and place, unfortunately.

“I think we will. Thank you for your hospitality, good sir.” Arthur takes his leave with a tip of his head before he escorts you away from the crowds. He thinks he deserves some semblance of peace for now. While the excess of unwanted company isn’t ideal, as long as you’re there he feels calm.

An impressive gazebo at the apex of the courtyard is devoid of any guests. It seems the majority of them strive to be in the limelight of this affair for reasons Arthur can’t seem to care about. Regardless, he is grateful for the temporary isolation as he leads you there.

The crowd begins to progressively wane much to Arthur's delight. A few still linger and you placate them with your arsenal of bonjour's and merci's. Once again Arthur finds himself grateful for you. He's reached his "mingling" threshold for the night a long time ago. Your's on the other hand seems to have just begun as you keen and wave to every passing sir and madam. It's rather amusing and Arthur chuckles lightly.

"Another minute there and I think he woulda' handed you the key to the city," Arthur teases. It's a rare occurrence for his bark have no bite, just playful nips You welcome it eagerly.

"That would've been ideal. I could have given it to Dutch so he can sell all of Saint Denis for a few mangoes." You respond back coolly. Arthur snorts.

"Seems like a fair trade."

You nudge him for his cheekiness. "Mind your tongue, Gilgore," you jab. He concedes to your wishes (as always).

"My apologies to my lady." Arthur's inner gentleman (the one he vehemently refuses is there) is showing. You want to say something, acknowledge the sides he wants to reveal. 

But now isn't the place for him to sink into that place of vulnerability. The predators here are too hungry. So you continue on as if it were a game still, keeping things lighthearted.

Placing a finger to your chin, you pretend to mull his words over. "I suppose," you begin, twirling out of his arms and swiftly dashing up the gazebo's steps. "I can forgive you," you spin around a column, "if you come sit with me for a moment?" You plop down on one of the many benches facing the river, tapping the empty space next to you. 

Arthur finds your impishness endearing, but now isn't the time. There's work to be done, people to mislead, men to k-

You can practically hear the discordance in his head. "Just for a moment," you plead, hoping it will alleviate some of his tension. It does, and he wordlessly complies as he sits down with you.

While Arthur doesn't claim to be an expert on the finer things in life, he is awestruck at the view. The gazebo seems to be on its own wooden isle in the middle of the water, surrounded on all sides by flowers. Gentle waves lap at the platform and it creates a steady, lulling rhythm. Petals drift lazily along the river, continually cascading down from the gentle push of an evening breeze.

The swamp he detests is transformed into an ethereal landscape as the lanterns’ reflections sparkle on the water’s surface. It appears that the rich can even buy the better parts of nature as well. Who would’ve thought.

The two of you are settled in comfortable silence, admiring the picturesque scenery as the party’s twittering becomes mere background noise.

Arthur speaks first. “So,” he begins bashfully. In this suit, he looks as awkward as he feels. A familiar hand on his knee, while slightly flirtatious, is a kind reminder he can be himself. It’s a freedom he still has trouble getting accustomed to at times. He lets his shoulders relax, “You think yer folks are around ‘ere somewhere?” It’s a question made in jest and you answer with a dry laugh.

“My parents wish they could be invited to a mayoral affair,” you say with a scoff. “Would’ve tried to sell me off twice as young if it meant they could eat the leftovers.” Though you try to hide it, Arthur picks up on hurt in your voice.

You hear it too, and you turn your head away from him for a moment. On instinct, you look out to the shoreline and see the manor you once called home. It's the same despite the ten years that have gone by: imposing and grand. You wonder if mother and father are awake, scornfully starring over at what they have continually failed to achieve. A jovial party serving as a painful reminder. The irony makes you feel a little bit better.

Walking up to that house every day for sixteen years had instilled fear into your core. Now, it was just an ugly scar across Saint Denis. The pain wasn't permanent, but you would always remember it. You're regarding the house apathetically, not being able to bring yourself away.

Arthur notices and begins to worry. “Hey,” Arthur begins gently, tracing circles over your knuckles. His voice summons you back and you look at him expectantly, gaze tender. You render him speechless; he’s ensnared and the simple control you exude over him has his nerves singing.

Arthur manages to compose himself and finds a way to bring your smile back. “What will people think if they see my beautiful wife so upset?” Again you laugh, this time sincerely. He finds himself smiling back, "They'll say I'm a beast of a man."

Tears threaten to spill from his sincerity. You try to shoo them away. “Oh lovely Tacitus,” your accent is back full swing. “You are just the kindest husband. How in this cruel world did I find myself so blessed?” While the titles are just pretend, he’s finding himself addicted to their honied sweetness. He wants more and your lips have the power to temporarily quell his want.

Leaning closer, falling further in love.

His lips are a whisper away, practically feeling the heat of your blush radiating off you. There’s a crowd of people just beyond a few white pillars but he doubts anyone is paying them any mind. And if they do, well, Dutch didn’t specify his distaste for getting into an upper class brawl.    

“I ask myself that question every day,” Arthur says reverently, a hand coming up to rest on your cheek. Your eyes flutter shut as his places his lips against your own with a gentleness reserved for you. This is a song and dance he is pleasantly more accustomed to, moving against you effortlessly. Each pass of his lips draws a sigh from you satisfied than the last.

Inhibition rears its ugly head again once Arthur thinks he actually has the luxury to enjoy himself. He pulls back slightly, much to your dismay but you don’t pursue. Like a deer, you don’t want to startle him. Instead you wait, a patience that Arthur is grateful you provide.

Arthur almost forgot why they’re here, and loyalty has always come before his happiness. “I gotta,” he mumbles. “Gotta do something for Dutch. I-” his words fall short when you silence him with another kiss. It appears chaste, but there's a fire behind it that’s nipping at his lips as the tip of your tongue traces over them.

Your poor cowboy would deny himself everything, so long as Dutch said the word. So you took some of the weight off his already bad shoulders for him.

Arthur’s eyes go comically wide as you withdraw from him, hand sliding down between your breasts. Realization (and relief) sweeps over him when it returns with a small envelope in tow, labeled "Classified".  

“What? How did you-”

“I wasn’t just talking to those old men for the caliber of their conversation,” you simper, tucking the envelope securely back into your bosom. “Managed to pilfer these documents pertaining to Cornwall off poor Monsieur Lemiux,” you purse your lips in a faux pout. Arthur continues to stare at you in awe.

You may have been planted in a gilded garden, but you had uprooted yourself, new roots digging their way deep into the forest floor. Growing thorns and blooming within the wild: free and untamed.

Wolf in sheep’s clothing indeed.

“So,” Arthur’s musing is ceased by you. Let him enjoy himself, as many this night have told him do. Yes he was on a mission, but let him have a moment to breathe. With you.

“Worry about what you ‘gotta’ do for Dutch later. But for now-” you lean in and purr against the shell of his ear, “let’s just be.”

The softness of your words is paired with a clap of man-made thunder cutting through the sky followed by a brilliant array of colors. Fireworks begin to dance across the night and gasps of wonder fill the air. The stars are met with blooms of blues, greens, and yellow to rival them. It's quite the spectacle; Arthur had never seen fireworks before. He had only heard Hosea' numerous tellings about taking Bessie to see them. The concept fascinated him; gunpowder igniting but instead of death, it brings magic.

But as they continue to burst, casting vibrant shades of gold and red across your face, Arthur thinks he’s found a new kind of magic to believe in.  

[chloepamp1998]

Sunday 7th June 2020

Poor body image can have a greater impact on your quality of life than you may realise. A few negative thoughts here and there can soon escalate, resulting in social withdrawal, anxiety and depression. Retrain yourself to love your body with our 8 steps to better body confidence.

Negative body image isn’t a subject that should be taken lightly. It’s effects can take a significant toll on the body, both physically and emotionally. Sufferers often become so consumed by the idea of the ‘perfect body’ that they forget what’s healthy and set unrealistic goals for themselves, leading to further emotional distress and disappointment. Women are the most guilty of not accepting and appreciating their body type. According to the charity DoSomething.org, “approximately 91% of women are unhappy with their bodies” and from those surveyed, “more than 40% of women and around 20% of men agreed they would consider cosmetic surgery in the future.”

1)Fake It Till You Make It

You may have met individuals who aren’t conventionally good looking, yet still have heads turning as they enter a room. That’s because body confidence is attractive, and if you love the way you look, so will everybody else.

After years of self deprecation, ditching your negative mindset can seem impossible. So start by faking it. When you catch yourself in the mirror don’t pick up on every single flaw. Instead tell yourself that you’re beautiful. Carrying yourself with confidence will eventually become second nature to you and you’ll feel much better about yourself.

2) You’re Your Best Friend

When your inner voice starts to bad mouth the way you look, stop and ask yourself - would you speak to your best friend like that? Or how would you feel if you heard someone else talking to them like that? Sometimes we don’t give ourselves the respect we deserve. Whenever you’re tempted to call yourself derogatory names, hit the pause button and switch it to something complimentary. You deserve better.

3)Trade Negative For Positive

Not just your thoughts, everything. If certain friends or family members only have negative things to say or make comments that hurt your feelings, steer clear. Surround yourself with people who support you and only want the best for you. People who project negativity and nastiness are massively insecure and say mean things to make themselves feel better. Find new friends who are fun to be around and don’t put you down. Getting out there and socialising can be a huge confidence boost.

4)Sign Out Of Social Media

Scrolling through Facebook can be an unhealthy distraction if you’re suffering from poor body confidence. Social media isn’t a reality, it’s just all the bits your friends want you to see. So don’t get swept up in the ‘great things they’re getting up to’ or ‘how amazing they look.’ Concentrate on yourself. They have down days too, we’re sure of it.

Try to find a hobby/positive outlet that stops you from overthinking.Take up reading and spend some time away from the screen. Maddy Malhotra’s ‘How to Build Self-Esteem and Be Confident’ is a good choice if you’re struggling to banish your inner critic.

5)Find A Workout You Love

Science agrees that exercise is a certified mood booster. Once the endorphins kick-in (the happy hormones) there’s no room for low self esteem. The tricky part is staying motivated. If the gym doesn’t keep you engaged, branch out and find a workout that really appeals to you. This way, you’re exercising purely for the love of the doing the sport and not to attain a specific weight or look.

Don’t confine yourself to the treadmill, get creative. Join a local football team, give hula hooping classes your best shot. Always fancied roller derby? There’s no time like the present.

6)Express Yourself

When you’ve low self esteem, it’s easy to fall into the habit of wearing things that hide your body. Whilst it’s wise to dress for your shape, you shouldn’t shy away from wearing clothes that you like and make you feel good. Revamp your wardrobe with clothes that you feel both comfortable and stylish in. You’re your own worst enemy at times and sometimes life’s little luxuries can be just the pick-me-up you need to feel amazing. Go for a massage, try out that new hairstyle. Never underestimate the power of a good pampering session.

7)Be Grateful

Getting hung up on the way you look is a waste of precious time and energy, and sometimes, it takes something pretty drastic to put things into perspective. Rather focusing on the bad, make a list of what you’re thankful for - those closest to you, your career, your home, your health. Others dream of having what you’ve got.

Take the time to be mindful and appreciative of all the lovely things in your life right this moment, and how you can nourish them even further in the future.

8) Seek Professional Help

Wanting to lose weight isn’t a bad thing if it’s a healthy decision. But when you’re need for perfection becomes obsessive and no amount of positive thinking can eradicate those bad feelings, it’s time to seek medical advice. Sometimes, other underlying issues are the root of the problem and only once they’re dealt with can you successfully take the steps you need to be body confident. Talk to someone.

Down below I have left a link for you to check out, perhaps together we can make a difference and help.

[justsayun]

To Eighties.  Huh?

My son has done and said many things over the years that have caused me to shake my head.  But usually, I roll with his antics.  But he finally said something that hit a nerve with me.  While at the beach my wife and daughter are out in the surf splashing and having fun.  I point out this beach bunny to my son and say "she's cute".  He replies:  "No, she looks to Eighties." I expressed puzzlement about his comment.  What does look to eighties mean?"  He explained her hair was too big and something about her just didn't seem right.  I followed up with, "What kind of women do you find attractive?"  He rambles off a list of ladies he thinks are pretty and NOT TO EIGHTIES LOOKING.  His list includes Keira Knightley from Pirates of the Caribbean, Zooey Deschanel who was in that series "The New Girl" and also was in Elf.  He also mentioned Kristen Bell who we all know from The Good Place and a ton of commercials.  I told my son he was off his rocker.  The eighties was a decade of wonderful, sexy, and beautiful women.  From my front-row seat of the eighties, I got to see Bo Derek, Christie Brinkley, and Cindy Crawford.   Plus all the young ladies of the eighties knew how to put a look together.  Sure eighties women did have large hairdos, but they also sported Spandex Mini Skirts, spaghetti strap dresses, and crop top shirts.  (Clothes that men respect and adore.  As you can tell I'm a fan of fashion.)You can have your Zooey Deschanel and I'll raise you with my eighties, Elle Macpherson.  Now every decade is wonderful, but to degrade a generation in a negative tone as TO EIGHTIES is just not acceptable.  My son added that the beach bunny I pointed to was too curvy.  I laughed at my boy and said "You are so lucky your uncle isn't here to hear you say that.  He'd smack you upside the head.  How can curves be a bad thing?  Have you ever heard someone say "Sorry this dessert is too delicious."  How about "Great car, but it runs to quiet."  What about a guy saying "She'd be perfect for me, but she's too busty."  You know what, those things have been said NEVER.  Sometimes big hair can be a good thing.  I remember a tiny little lady who had big hair.  She was cute as a button and she shouted out to one and all; "Hit me with your best shot".  She ended up getting so many hits that that song was a chart-topper.  I'm talking eighties big-haired, yet sexy singer Pat Benetar.  To say in a derogatory manner that a woman looks to eighties is terrible.  I said to my son the eighties were full of attractive women.                                                                                         There were so many heavenly bodies most men felt like they were at a Planetarium.  My son then made the smart ass remark, if the eighties were so great, explain Boy  George and the Mullet?  I shot back; "Hey this is about your taste in women, not about me.  Besides I didn't say the eighties were perfect."

[mitcheemarns]

83. “If you want me, come and get me, motherfuckers.” (boeser and pettersson) kinda has a pissed brock defending petey vibe lol

disclaimer: this is a scarlet letter au! because im stupid! and i have no ideas or originality! 

in this universe, people are very homophobic and it is outrightly viewed as a sin. there are no specifics in which there are derogatory terms used. however, there is a confrontational scene where homophobia leads to violence. (the violence is just swearing, but there are no derogatory terms used such as the f word.)

im sorry. but have the scarlet letter au :)

Elias is new to New England. He cannot deny that. The colony is chafing and restrictive, nothing like the wondrous sanctuary that his mother and father once thought it was supposed to be. The climate is harsh, probably not as harsh as Sweden, and the people are stifling. The land and surrounding vegetation are telling of the colony’s future, with its powdery and infertile soil and a multitude of weeds sprung up throughout the area. It will be bleak and miserable. It was nothing like what his parents intended. 

At first, New England seemed to be an adventure worth living to experience. The settlers had convinced his family with bold fantasies of a life away from claustrophobic Europe to a place where a new community was to be made; a new religion, a new society, a new start. His parents had believed it, and so had he. 

The journey there had been rough; the toiling ocean had been an angry god. The waves had crashed upon their ship ceaselessly, ramming upon the oaken wood with the harsh force of a thousand bulls. They had lost a large portion of their people—their, Elias laughs to himself, he cannot believe he thinks he is a part of this colony—, including his parents and his brother. 

Elias was no stranger to death. It seemed to follow him like an evil fiend, one that was ready to take from him everything except his own life. 

But even after his family’s passing, he thinks he would have been able to push on and make a living for himself. Yes, he definitely could have lived in this New England society, if only it were not for the mindset of the people. If only he had not journeyed with this specific group of people. If only…

_________

“This boy! This—this wretched wisp of a sinner! How dare he trample upon our consecrated soil that we have just come to bless with our settlement?” a woman exclaimed haughtily, standing near the makeshift scaffold. Her face was wrinkled in an unattractive manner, the shadows draping across the creases in her skin and creating harsh concavity to her visage. 

“And with another man!” another woman gasped, her eyes filled with anger and fear. 

“Now, now, he wasn’t ever part of our community. Remember, he came to us with his parents from Sweden. We can all discern what type of people are born and bred in those areas.” The woman who made this comment seemed to be wiser, yet her wisdom seemed to strangle its receivers rather than placate and inspire them. 

“The nerve for him not to reveal the identity of the other sinner. He should be thankful that the punishment wasn’t dictated to be harsher,” one of the older women huffed, still managing to maintain an air of dignity about her despite the repulsion she felt.

“Hush, ladies! Are we not women of proper breeding and state? We shouldn’t bow down to the boy’s level and consecrate ourselves. Look! Here he comes!” The young woman who spoke pointed her finger at the prison door, which had been pushed open to make way for the young man. She held her child in her arms as the group of spectators diverted their piercing gaze to the iron door.

The young man walked out with disdain in his footsteps. His gaze was cool and sharp, surveying the rest of the community with ice in his light, blue eyes. He was tall and lanky in a way that introduced a sense of elegance to the people who laid eyes on his figure. It could be seen that he came from a line of high standing, not necessarily in royalty but certainly in human nature. 

“He thinks he’s better than us!” the first woman shrieked again, holding an affronted hand to her chest. 

The young man, having climbed up the stairs to the scaffold just then, turned his long neck and stared into the eyes of the woman who had shrieked the statement aloud. His gaze instilled fear into the woman’s heart; a type of fear that seemed to pierce all the way into the marrow of her bones. She averted his gaze, instead focusing on the black letter S that had been inked into the centre of his chest. 

The young man’s gaze followed the woman’s down to the mark marring his skin. The action seemed to shake the man up, as he clenched his jaw and whipped his head away from the group of women, leaving the first woman to smirk inwardly. 

Elias seemed to have no place in this godforsaken community.

_________

When Elias is rid of the stupid criminal sentence that the community forces him to endure, he moves to a cabin near the sea. It’s a nice, cozy place close enough to hear the waves crashing against the rocky cliffs. Most days, the seagulls cry out and keep Elias company. It’s pretty lonely, but at least it’s a place where he doesn’t have to suffer under the scrutiny of the community.

In Sweden, he had aspired to be an artist, because he was the second child and his family were supportive. But here, in this small, close-minded society, there was no place for frivolous pleasures like art. So, Elias sets out to find a job that maybe he’ll be able to hold for a while so he doesn’t starve and die. 

He ends up working as a carpenter under a man named “Bo”. Bo is his saviour. Bo doesn’t mind Elias’s sin or the letter upon his clavicle or the fact that he slept with a man. Bo helps Elias when he struggles, often sending him home with extra food that would have gone bad if Elias hadn’t taken it or giving him an advancement on his pay because Bo just “felt like it”. Not to mention that Bo lets him paint on the walls, when they work on a religious or decorative building, sometimes instead of calling for another specialized worker.

Elias thinks he might’ve fallen in love with Bo if he hadn’t met Him.

Elias thinks he might’ve left New England if it wasn’t for Him. Or else, why would he take the shitty ostracizing from the community?

_________

“Come ‘ere fellas, look who we have here,” a man calls out, “the sinner himself. In the flesh.”

Elias groans inwardly and glares, huddling into himself. 

“It’s him, huh? Didn’t your mom teach you to stay clear from unsafe places? Oh, that’s right, you don’t have one anymore,” the second man laughs, his features twisted from the malicious smile on his face. 

Elias grits his teeth and clenches his fists. To a spectator, it only seems that Elias’s glare has become a touch deadlier. “Time for some new jokes. They are not funny.”

The first man has the audacity to laugh, further tormenting Elias. “You wanna go, foreign boy? What a shitty accent, don’t you think?” He nudges his partner. 

“Oh yeah, just hearing it pisses me off.” 

The first man smirks. “Took the words right outta my mouth! Think we gotta dispel our anger somehow, yeah?”

“Fuck yeah,” the second man chuckles darkly. 

They stalk toward Elias with malice, fists balled up and muscles bulging in their arms. Elias backs away, sweat beading from his hairline. He doesn’t want to seem like a coward, but there is no way he can take one of these guys, let alone two. 

There’s a rush of adrenaline in Elias’s veins. He’s about to run.

Another pair of footsteps thud across the soiled ground. The two men turn their heads toward the unknown personage. 

“Brock!” the second man exclaims happily. “Glad you’re here. I thought it was someone else and it scared the shit out of me.”

Brock stops, his eyes surveying the situation. He freezes entirely when his gaze catches sight of Elias, his body still tense and prepared to flee. Brock’s eyes soften just a little before his mask is put on again. 

“Yeah. What are you two doing?” he asks.

“Nothing much, just teaching the sinner a lesson. You wanna join?” the first man laughs. 

A brief flash moves across Brock’s eyes. The two men wouldn’t be able to catch it, but Elias it does. The emotion brings more fear to Elias than the two men do. Elias shakes his head vehemently at Brock, pleading him silently. 

Brock smirks back at Elias, making Elias’s heart thump, before shaking his head slightly to placate him. Don’t worry. It’s time I do this.

“Why are you guys bothering him, though? Pretty fucking dumb if you ask me,” Brock scoffs, crossing his arms. 

The expressions on the two men’s faces change from surprise to confusion to anger. 

“You calling us dumb?” the second man speaks up.

“You better not be starting shit, Boeser. Your dad won’t get you out of trouble all the time, you little bitch,” the first man sneers. 

The muscles in Brock’s arms bulge through his clothing. “You think I need my dad to get me out of trouble? Fucking idiots. If you want me, come and get me, motherfuckers.”

Elias can only watch in horror as the two men swing their fists in Brock’s direction.

[thenightling]

LGBTQ pre-2000s terminology context (for people writing period fiction or reading older literature)

Transexual vs. Transgender:

A few weeks ago someone tried to argue with me that a 1990 comic book use of the word Transexual was offensive. I tried to explain that in 1990 this was the correct term.  They replied was “It doesn’t matter if it was acceptable back then! It’s still offensive!”   But... That’s the point, it was not the offensive term in 1990.  It was the ONLY term in 1990.  

Okay, a little history.  The word “transgender” was only coined in the late 60s and when it was first coined it was by writer Virginia Prince.  Viriginia Prince was an early Trans rights activist and she coined it to distinguish between Trans people who do not have surgery (Transgender) vs. those that do (Transexual).  That was the original purpose. 

Today there is no such distinction, all Trans people identify as Transgender.  But the term was rarely used for the first two to three decades of it’s existence. In fact in the 70s into the 90s most Trans people didn’t even know the word transgender, period.    

In 1990 Transgender was NOT the correct term for most Trans people.  So it’s rather unfair to expect an author to magically know a term most Trans people didn’t even use yet.

Remember, the word meme actually dates back to the 70s.  No one expected its present day use and most people in the 80s and 90s would not have known the word.   Language is slow to change.   And in 1990 transgender simply wasn’t what it is today.   Most Trans people didn’t know the word and if they did it was for Virginia Prince’s use, not the modern use.    

_______________________________________________ 

Bisexual and Panasexual:

Panasexual is a very new term.  It was coined by Freud, yes, but when he used it, it was not a kind word.  It was used to mean sexual attraction to ANYTHING and EVERYTHING, including animals and objects.  The modern usage of open to sexual attraction to any person is still very new in the grand scheme of the English language.  I’m talking “less than twenty years” new. 

Bisexual originally did NOT mean ‘excluding Trans and non-binary” as some people have twisted it to mean.  “But… But it has ‘bi’ in it, which means two,  That’s binary.”    

Back in the 90s we had a joking catchphrase of “I’m bisexual.  That means I’ll try anything once.” It wasn’t designed to exclude.  The term was only intended to include.  Because until bisexual got widespread use there was just homosexual and straight.

The word bisexual is less than a century old.  It’s still relatively new.  In the 1970s when Bowie told a reporter he was bisexual he had to clarify that it does NOT mean having both male and female reproductive organs. (see the book “David Bowie in his own words” published in 1983).  

In the 1990s when Vincent Price’s daughter confronted Roddy McDowell about her father’s sexuality and said “Why didn’t you tell me my father was bisexual?” his response was “We didn’t know the term.  How can you deny something if you don’t know the word?”

I used to identify as bisexual.  Sometimes I still do.  Then it was panasexual.  Now I realize I’m probably demi Pan Romantic.  I identified as bisexual since the 90s and it’s only recently people have started to use it to mean “only binary attractions.”   And I’m so tired of having to explain the history of the word.  That’s the only real reason a lot of older bisexuals dropped the term, because we still remember when the word included everything.  And for many it still does.  We just get tired of explaining it.

__________________________________________ 

Dyke and it’s debatable reclamation:

Dyke was an offensive term for a lesbian.  So was Lesbo but Dyke was worse.   For many over the age of twenty there is still a sense of old wounds with the word dyke.  

In recent years there has been an effort to reclaim the term but unfortunately a lot of TERFs (Trans exclusionary feminists) also latched onto using dyke with pride.  Just look at what comes up right here on Tumblr if you search the terms.  Some of them even denounce asexuals as “not counting.” 

 So I, personally, have mixed feelings about the use of dyke.  I can never tell if I’m talking to a lesbian woman just reclaiming an old slur or someone announcing their hatred of Trans woman and ace.  And mingle that with the memory of teenagehood insults not yet dulled and I’m just still not comfortable with the term, much as I wish I was.

_______________________________________________________ 

Other old school LGBTQ terms:

Let me emphasize first these ARE the terms used WITHIN the LGBTQ community.  Not used against / at them, but WITHIN.   

Friends of Dorothy - Usually members of the armed forces who were in the closet. It meant you were gay.   The term’s origin had to do with Judy Garland being an early advocate of LGBTQ rights.  Judy played Dorothy in The Wizard of Oz.    Somewhere over the Rainbow - Used as an early gay Anthem because of Judly Garland’s status in the LGBTQ community. This is also part of why the pride flag is a rainbow.

Bambi - Feminine lesbian that prefers to cuddle rather than have actual sex.  

Butch - Masculine, usually for lesbians. Beard - Wife of a gay man who is still in the closet and using his marriage status as part of his disguise as straight.

Bear - Masculine, hairy, and large gay man. Twink - Feminine and semi-androgynous gay man. Boston marriage (old) - Two women living together as husband and wife, dates back to the nineteenth century.  Formerly acceptable:  Fag hag - I never liked this one but it was a term for a straight woman who was friends with, or supportive of gay men.  You can hear its use in an episode of Will and Grace.  It was meant to be reclaimed but it still feels derogatory to me as if you want to shame the allies.  Formerly acceptable:  Transvestite  - No longer favorable.  This term was used for people who chose gender nonconforming fashions.   Usually a man who dressed as a woman but still identified as a man.  Cross-dresser was also once acceptable.  But both terms have fallen out of favor.   There was a time though that this was the correct term. Transvestite is not to be confused with Transexual (today Transgender).   It was specifically in regard to clothing. 

Queen - Can be used for flamboyant gay man but mostly short for drag queen and often used for someone who identifies as she / her while in feminine clothing and he / him when not (at average usually preferring the he / him pronouns and treating the queen part as a sometimes aspect of their identity).  

King - Reversal of Queen.  

Post will be edited as necessary.

[fakexface]

Season 3-Season 5

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━ 𝓣𝓮𝓵𝓵 𝓶𝓮 𝔀𝓱𝓪𝓽 𝔀𝓮 𝓹𝓻𝓪𝔂𝓲𝓷𝓰 𝓯𝓸𝓻; 𝓽𝓸𝓸 𝓶𝓪𝓷𝔂 𝓰𝓸𝓭𝓼. ━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

𝐒𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐨𝐧 𝐓𝐡𝐫𝐞𝐞 •Following their journey from Qarth, their ship, Balerion, arrives at the city of Astapor in Slaver's Bay. By then, the dragons had grown to the size of small dogs. While these dragons were now capable of hunting fish for themselves, they are still not large enough to be used as weapons of war to invade Westeros. Thus, Rhaegar needs an army. While the Unsullied, the elite warrior-eunuchs produced in Astapor, are regarded as some of the finest soldiers in the world, Rhaegar and Daenerys know that their being slave-soldiers would become problematic in Westeros, where slavery is outlawed. However, Jorah states that they have no choice but to settle for this solution since they have no other means of acquiring an army; Rhaegar argues that if they sail to Essos and meet with the Golden Company, they would have an army. This causes a slight rift to grow between Rhaegar and Jorah. Meanwhile, Viserys is dealing with sever seasickness.

•Upon arriving in Astapor, the siblings are given a tour of the Unsullied barracks by the Unsullied's owner, Kraznys mo Nakloz, with his slave girl Missandei translating his Low Valyrian into the Common Tongue of Westeros for the siblings. Since Kraznys does not know that Rhaegar, Daenerys, or Viserys understand Valyrian, he frequently insults them- especially Daenerys, much to Rhaegar’s annoyance.

•Throughout the tour, Kraznys explains that the Unsullied were trained for battle from the age of five, and that only one in four recruits survived the training. He also demonstrates that the Unsullied do not fear pain or death by slicing off the nipple of one soldier, much to Daenerys's disgust; Viserys goes to yell, but Rhaegar stops him, despite his own anger. This soldier not only shows no sign of pain but even thanks his slave master for the opportunity to serve him. They also learn that the Unsullied are trained not to show mercy or weakness by killing a newborn slave child in front of its mother at the end of their training. While Daenerys is outraged by this, she still asks Kraznys how many Unsullied are available while Rhaegar has to take a step back, tugging Viserys back with him. They are told that there are eight thousand soldiers for sale and that Rhaegar has until the next day to make a decision.

•En route back to their ship, Ser Jorah recommends that Rhaegar purchase the Unsullied, arguing that under his command, these slave soldiers will have a far better quality of life serving him than they would under Kraznys and his ilk. Daenerys is distracted by a playing child who follows her and Jorah. However, neither of them noticed a hooded man, armed with a dagger, following them. The child offers Daenerys a gift, a wooden ball, gesturing for her to open it.

•As she does, the hooded stranger knocks it out of her hand. In response, Rhaegar grabs the stranger, and in their struggle knock Daenerys to the ground. The ball then cracks in half, releasing a manticore. Before the creature can harm Daenerys with its lethal sting, the stranger, revealing himself to be Ser Barristan Selmy, kills it with his dagger. Meanwhile, the child hisses in a reptilian manner and uses magic to escape. Ser Barristan quickly identifies himself as one of their father's Kingsguard and begs Rhaegar, Viserys, and Daenerys’s forgiveness for failing House Targaryen during Robert's Rebellion. In return for his wrongs, he offers to serve in their Crownsguard, which Daenerys accepts immediately despite Rhaegar’s hesitance, given how Rhaegar knew Barristan from when he was younger. He makes a comment in passing referring to the tourney during the False Spring. Ser Barristan gives a nervous chuckle.

•The next day, Daenerys, Rhaegar, and Viserys, accompanied by Jorah and Barristan, walk along a sea wall known as the "Walk of Punishment". Here, any slave who shows insubordination is strapped to a cross and left to die out in public, as a warning to all other slaves. Daenerys offers a condemned man water, but he refuses to drink, saying that he just wants to die. Later, they continue their negotiations with Kraznys over their planned purchase of the Unsullied. During the meeting, Rhaegar announces that they would take all 8,000 Unsullied soldiers, including those in training. Kraznys initially dismisses his offer and instead offers to sell them one hundred soldiers. Daenerys then offers to sell him one of her dragons, much to Rhaegar’s confusion.

•In the end, Daenerys reaches an agreement with Kraznys to sell her biggest dragon, Vhagon, for all of the Unsullied soldiers. Jorah and Selmy object to this deal on the grounds that the dragons are key to winning the Iron Throne. Rhaegar is able to read between the lines, and becomes impressed with his baby sister, sitting back to watch how everything will plan out. Viserys remains silent, more so out of shock than anything. However, Daenerys appears to brush away their concerns and accepts the transaction, and also takes Missandei as a token of faith. Upon leaving the meeting, she scolds Jorah and Selmy for criticizing her decision in public. Rhaegar congratulates her on her cunning wit.

•Daenerys also asks Missandei for her name and whether she has any living family, but Missandei responds that she does not. Daenerys warns her that she was heading to war, she may be killed and fall sick and die. In response, Missandei recites the Valyrian aphorism: "Valar morghulis", which translated into the Common Tongue as "all men must die". Daenerys then realizes that Missandei actually knew High Valyrian, and also adds that "we are not men".

•On the day of the exchange, the slave masters and Kraznys, along with the 8,000 Unsullied warriors, meet with Daenerys, Viserys, and Rhaegar to complete the deal. Rhaegar hands the chained Rhaenyx to Kraznys, who does not realize that he has been give the wrong dragon. Rhaenyx is hostile towards his slave master. Kraznys then gives him the golden whip, the symbol of ownership over the Unsullied. After finalizing the transaction, Rhaegar tests these new powers by ordering the Unsullied, in Valyrian, to march forward and then halt. This shocks everyone including Jorah and Barristan, who did not know that he spoke Valyrian.

•Kraznys then complains that Rhaenyx did not obey his command, to which Rhaegar angrily retorts Rhaenyx does not obey him because he is not a slave; Kraznys is both stunned to learn he speaks fluent Valyrian, and horrified to realize Rhaegar understood his derogatory comments and insults about Daenerys the whole time, merely feigning ignorance to lull the Astapori into a false sense of security. Daenerys finds this encounter humorous, watching from the sidelines with Vhagon and Meraxal, named after her ancestors dragons, Vhagar, and Meraxes, perched upon her own shoulders. Rhaegar then orders the Unsullied to kill all the slave masters; Daenerys adds in for them to free all the slaves in Astapor, but to hurt no innocent people. When a panicking Kraznys desperately shouts for someone to kill her, Rhaegar orders Rhaenyx to burn Kraznys alive.

•With the Unsullied under his command, Rhaegar sacks Astapor with little resistance. Once it is done, he addresses all of the Unsullied warriors and tells them they are now free. He also gives them the option of leaving unharmed or fighting under his command as free men. At first, the Unsullied remain quiet, not knowing what to do with their newfound freedom. However, one Unsullied soldier begins to beat his spear against the ground, signifying his allegiance to him. The rest of the Unsullied follow suit shortly thereafter. Now in command of an army of free men, Rhaegar, Daenerys, and Viserys march forward with their new army while their dragons fly overhead and roar triumphantly.

•During their journey to Yunkai, the next great city of Slaver's Bay, Rhaegar ordered the Unsullied to elect a commander from their own ranks. The officers ultimately choose Grey Worm, who like all Unsullied, was given the name of a type of vermin. When Rhaegar instructed the Unsullied to go back to their own names or pick new ones they like, Grey Worm elected to keep his, as it was the name he had when The Silver Dragon and Daenerys Stormborn set him free.

•While Daenerys and Barristan were confident that they could conquer Yunkai since that city only bred sex slaves, Jorah expressed his concerns that the city's defenders would not fight them on the battlefield but would rather strengthen their position behind the walls and utilize guerrilla tactics against her army. Rhaegar agreed with Jorah, stating that doing this wouldn’t gain them anything: there were no soldiers to gain in Yunkai. Jorah also viewed the Yunkai campaign as a distraction from their main goal of taking Westeros. Daenerys was, however, adamant on freeing the slaves of Yunkai, who number in the hundreds of thousands.

•She ordered Grey Worm to send a messenger to the city and inform Yunkai's slaver rulers that they must either surrender or suffer the same fate as Astapor. Rhaegar did not stop her; Daenerys held an audience with the Yunkish herald, Razdal mo Eraz, who was one of the ruling "Wise Masters" of Yunkai. Razdal attempted to discourage Daenerys from attacking his city by claiming that numerous armies throughout history had tried and failed to conquer it. However, Daenerys was undaunted and commented that a hard-fought battle would give her Unsullied much-needed practice. Razdal then attempted to bribe her by providing her with the gold and ships needed to transport the army to Westeros. In exchange, Daenerys and her brothers would have to leave Yunkai in peace.

•In response, Daenerys makes a counter-offer: she will spare the lives of Razdal and the slave-masters of Yunkai if every slave (men, women, and children) in the city were set free, and given as much food, clothing, and property as they could carry in payment for their services. She threatened to show no mercy if Yunkai rejected her offer. Razdal was offended by Daenerys's demands and threatened to use Yunkai's "powerful friends" to destroy her. Rhaegar found this amusing, but did not step in to aid his sister, for this was her fight.

•Razdal's actions caused the dragons to make threatening gestures. When Razdal protested that he had been promised safe conduct, Daenerys responded that the dragons had made no such promise and took offense to him threatening her and her brothers. Razdal was also unable to reclaim the chests of gold he had brought with him. Following his departure, Daenerys ordered the knights to find out more about Yunkai's "powerful friends" before she decided to attack the city.

•They eventually discover that these "powerful friends" are the Second Sons, a professional mercenary company. While there are only 2,000 of them, the Second Sons are armored and mounted, enough to cause trouble for the Unsullied. Daenerys tells Barristan to organize a meeting with the Second Sons' captains, saying that men who fight for gold "can't afford to lose to a girl". Rhaegar agrees, though he is more curious to see these so-called “Second Sons” in person more than anything.

•Daenerys meets with the Captains Mero, a Braavosi who is also known as the Titan's Bastard, and Prendahl na Ghezn, a Ghiscari, and Prendahl's underling Daario Naharis. During the proceedings, Mero insults Daenerys by likening her to a whore and touches Missandei inappropriately. It takes Jorah and Viserys both to keep Rhaegar in check, for had they not, he would have drawn his blade and ended the meeting in a battle. Prendahl and Mero refuse Daenerys's offer of an alliance, pointing out they will not get their rewards until Rhaegar reclaims the Iron Throne. In response, Daenerys replies that they had no army a fortnight ago and that they had no dragons a year ago. Daenerys gives them two days to make up their mind and sends them away with the barrel of wine which Mero had departed.

•After the Second Sons depart, Daenerys instructs Barristan to kill Mero in the event that she had to fight with them. Barristan replies that he would be glad to do so. Later that night, Daenerys takes a bath and is surprised to learn that Missandei speaks nineteen languages. In response, Missandei comments that this shouldn't be that odd since it only took Daenerys a year to gain a reasonable grasp of Dothraki. The khaleesi bristles at the idea she speaks only reasonable Dothraki and switches to the language to teach Missandei a lesson, only to have her pronunciation corrected. Rhaegar, in the meantime, can be seen studying the night sky; Jorah approaches him, asking him if he misses King’s Landing. Rhaegar responds that he does, but he loathes to see the mess that it has become under the Lannister’s rule.

•Suddenly, an Unsullied enters and holds a knife to Missandei's throat, advising the women not to scream. He removes his helmet, revealing himself as Daario. He confesses that his captains want to kill Daenerys, but he disagreed with them. Instead, he beheaded them and shows their severed heads to Daenerys. Shortly after, Daario swears fealty to Daenerys. Thus, Daenerys gains a new ally in the conquest. She calls for Rhaegar, who quickly returns and is ready to kill Daario on the spot until Daenerys explains everything.•Rhaegar is still untrusting of Daario, for any man who was willing to kill the very men he fought beside was not honorable. Daenerys tries to argue with Rhaegar, but finds truth in his words, despite how trusting she wants to be.

•For their assault on Yunkai, the new captain Daario suggested attacking the city through its lightly defended back gate. Their plan was to infiltrate the city and open the main gates for the rest of the army to invade. While Ser Jorah and Rhaegar were skeptical of the plan, Daenerys and Grey Worm were willing to trust Daario. During the war meeting, Daario attempted to flirt with her. Rhaegar and Viserys both quickly intervened. When the battle began, Ser Barristan and Viserys remained behind to guard Daenerys. During that night, Rhaegar, Jorah, Daario, and Grey Worm infiltrated the city and fought their way through the slave soldiers guarding the city. Within a few hours, Targaryen forces had captured Yunkai.

•The following morning, Daenerys addressed the city's slaves with Missandei serving as her translator. Rhaegar and Viserys both stood back to allow Daenerys her time in the light. During her speech, Daenerys told the slaves that it was their own choice to reach for their freedom. As a result, the liberated slaves revered Dany as their "mhysa", which translated as "mother" from the Old Ghiscari language. Daenerys mingled with the former slaves who regarded her as a "glimmer of hope" in an increasingly dark world. Rhaegar smiles as he watches, pride filling him to see the people accepting Daenerys so willingly. Viserys grumbles that he has not had his time in the light yet. Viserys receives a light smack on the back of the head from Rhaegar.

𝐒𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐨𝐧 𝐅𝐨𝐮𝐫 •Daenerys, Rhaegar, and Viserys sit near the sea with the three dragons, each one about the size of a small horse. Dany strokes Vhagon’s head, while Rhaenyx and Meraxal fight over a dead lamb and Vahgon joins the fight. As Daenerys tries to calm him down, Vhagon, without warning, snaps at her with a hiss as a warning to not interfere. He then roars and goes to contest the kill. Rhaegar and Viserys both grab Daenerys and pull her back, with Rhaegar standing before his younger siblings. Vhagon snarls a warning at his mother. This act, that her own child would threaten her, and that they are outgrowing their influence and ability to control them, leaves Daenerys and Rhaegar visibly shaken.

•Rhaegar returns to his Unsullied army to resume the march to Meereen. He notices Grey Worm and Daario Naharis are absent and sets out to find them after being told they are "gambling". Daario explains they are deciding on which of them will ride up front with him in the vanguard. Frustrated, Rhaegar states that the honor goes to Daenerys and Viserys, as well as Ser Jorah and Ser Barristan as they did not keep him waiting all morning. He orders the two men to ride at the back with the livestock. He also adds that the last man holding his sword shall find themselves at the end of his own blade, begging.

•On the road to Meereen, Daenerys speaks with Missandei, who tells her that Meereen would be wise to fear her brother’s approach. Daario meets them on the cliff side, and Dany expresses her annoyance when he shows her flowers he has picked. He reveals that the flowers represent a portrait of the landscape, and serve various purposes, chiefly that knowing her surroundings is important to her strategy. Rhaegar watches this from afar; he states to Ser Jorah that he still does not trust Daario, though his knowledge of the land is worth keeping him around for.

•The marching army halts and Daenerys goes to the forefront, discovering a slave child nailed to a cross. The child is dead, her hand pointing the way to Meereen, and Ser Jorah tells Daenerys there is one for each mile to the last of the great slave cities, 163 in total. Rhaegar does not comment, but his face shows that of great pain. Viserys retches softly in the background. Ser Barristan offers to have outriders go ahead and bury them, but Daenerys refuses, ordering that each of them be buried, and their collars removed, but not before she has looked upon each and every face. Rhaegar cannot help but feel surprised and proud of his sister and joins her. Viserys is the only one who does not.

•Rhaegar, Daenerys, and their army eventually arrive at the gates of Meereen as they begins their siege. They are faced with a champions duel where a riding knight of Meereen challenges her to choose a champion that will fight for her. Daario Naharis, commander of the Second Sons and the most expendable member of Dany's entourage, volunteers to be her champion. Once Naharis quickly dispatches the Meereen champion, Rhaegar begins the siege of the city by speaking to the gathered slaves and then catapulting the broken chains of those Daenerys has freed across the city walls, demonstrating their previous successes. As the slaves examine the broken chains, the Great Masters look on, perhaps in fear.

•He sends the Unsullied, led by Grey Worm, to sneak into Meereen and start a slave revolt inside the city. The plan is successful, the slaves rise up against their masters, kill some of them and open the gates to the three siblings. They enter the city as liberators and the freedmen of Meereen celebrate Daenerys’s arrival by shouting "Mhysa" and throwing their old slaves' collars at her feet. She then has 163 Great Masters killed similarly to how they had murdered the slave children on the road to Meereen, and despite Ser Barristan's council to answer their injustice with mercy, she claims she is "answering injustice with justice". Rhaegar views this as a dangerous move, and voices his distaste to such a method; killing those who created such injustice would not create balance, but more of an eye-for-an-eye scenario. Despite this, he allows her to go ahead with her plan. The Great Harpy of Meereen at the apex of the Great Pyramid is covered with a great Targaryen banner as Rhaegar, Daenerys, and Viserys look down on the newly liberated city.

•As a meeting with his advisers and commanders of his forces is held in the highest quarters of the Great Pyramid, Rhaegar is informed that the Second Sons had taken the Meereenese navy, composed of 93 ships. Although Rhaegar did not command Daario to take them, Daenerys asks if it is enough to take their army to King's Landing. Jorah remarks that even though they might be able to take King's Landing, they wouldn't be able to hold all the Seven Kingdoms. He also tells her that in Yunkai, the Wise Masters re-established slavery and took control of the city, swearing to take revenge against Daenerys.

•In Astapor, the council Rhaegar has left behind to rule has been overthrown by a butcher named Cleon, who named himself "His Imperial Majesty". Rhaegar, angered, commands everyone except Ser Jorah and Daenerys to leave him, and here he questions his ability to rule the Seven Kingdoms of Westeros if they can't even pacify the three cities of Slaver's Bay. Thus, he decides to have Daenerys stay in Meereen to gather more knowledge and experience.

•Daenerys asks him what he intends to do, and he flashes a rare, toothy smile: he is going to take a third of the fleet and sail to gather the Golden Company. He instructs her on how to rule, spending the next four days preparing her to rule in his stead. Viserys would be there as well to give aid; Ser Jorah and Daario would remain as her guards. He would leave Greyworm and two thirds of the Unsullied, as well as Ser Barristan. He departs on the fifth day with thirty two ships, leaving behind sixty four for Daenerys and Viserys.Daenerys sets up the time to hear petitions from her new subjects. Among the first is a goatherd whose flock were roasted by the dragons; Dany orders him paid three times their value. Next is Hizdahr zo Loraq, who asks to be allowed to bury his father, one of the 163 Great Masters Daenerys ordered crucified. Dany is swayed by Hizdahr's arguments (aided by guilt upon realizing that the elder zo Loraq opposed the crucifixion of the slaves in the first place) and allows the burial. Missandei informs her that there are 200 more supplicants. Viserys aids her in her decision process, though his own opinions are often colder than what Daenerys decides.•Some weeks later, Daenerys is irritated to discover Daario in her private quarters. The mercenary tries to give her flowers, but the queen demands to know what he wants. Daario asks to be allowed to indulge in his only two talents: killing men and loving women. Dany counters that the Second Sons are assigned to patrol Meereen and keep the peace, and there are plenty of women in the city that Daario can pursue. Daario says that police work doesn't do the trick and that the only woman he wants isn't interested.

•Nonetheless, he confirms that he is sworn to her and that he will continue boring patrol work if that is what the queen wants, and only asks that she occasionally allow him to do what he is actually good at. In response, Daenerys orders him to take off his clothes.

•When Viserys learns of this the next day, he very nearly steals a dagger to go “chop off that mercenary prick’s prick,” and to “see how well he can please a woman without a cock or a tongue!”

•The following morning, as Daario leaves, Jorah enters, observing that he is earlier than most, but later than others. Daenerys brushes off his disapproval and says that she is sending the Second Sons to retake Yunkai. To ensure that slavery is truly dead in that city, Daario is under orders to kill every Wise Master the Second Sons encounter. Jorah protests, warning her that good and evil exists on both sides of every conflict, and that he wouldn't be advising her today if Eddard Stark had done to him what she is about to do to the Wise Masters, and that Rhaegar would disapprove, having said nearly the very same thing he had just spoken. After considering this, Daenerys instructs Jorah to tell Daario that she has changed her mind: his orders are now to accompany Hizdahr to Yunkai so that he can give the Wise Masters a choice: they can live in her new world, or die in their old one. As Jorah leaves, Dany says to tell Daario that it was Jorah who changed her mind.

•Daenerys is in her chambers with Missandei. The two are talking about Grey Worm and how Missandei caught him gazing while she was bathing naked downstream. Daenerys asks whether Missandei thinks he was spying on her. She says no, and Daenerys mentions that the Dothraki have no taboos against nudity or public love-making. Of course, Missandei is not Dothraki, but she says it doesn't matter, as Grey Worm isn't interested in her - none of the Unsullied desire women. Missandei says he was interested, surprisingly to both of them. Daenerys inquires whether, when a slave is castrated, the masters take "all of it" - both the "pillar" and the "stones." Missandei says she doesn't know, to which Daenerys asks if she's ever wondered. Thoughtful, Missandei confirms that she has. Later on, Viserys finds out that Jorah Mormont was spying on Daenerys.

•Jorah enters the throne room in Meereen. In an audience before her, a seething Daenerys demands an explanation, and Jorah says it is a plot by Tywin Lannister to divide them. Dany counters that the pardon was signed the year they met. Asking him whether he claims the pardon was forged, Jorah admits that it was not. He soon confesses to giving Varys information on Daenerys's activities in Essos. Daenerys angrily says that his telling them of her and her brothers still living and gaining ground led to her near-poisoning at the hands of a wine merchant. Jorah then protests that his actions stopped her from being poisoned, but Daenerys retorts this was only because he knew it might be coming. Jorah begs for her forgiveness, but Dany rebuffs him, saying he betrayed her, selling her secrets to the man she holds responsible for the death of her family. She spares his life, however, and gives him a day to leave Meereen. She warns that if he is seen in the city after that, his head will be thrown into Slaver's Bay. Jorah is last seen leaving Meereen on a horse.

•Viserys, alarmed at the changes that were suddenly occurring, sends a raven to Essos, hoping to reach his brother to tell him what had occurred. By this time, it had been a month since Rhaegar had left. The letter is written in High Valaryian.

•Meanwhile, Rhaegar has landed in Essos, and has been working to gain the favor of the current leader of the Golden Company, Harry Strickland. Upon arrival, he was pleased to note that what he had read as a child was true; that the high officers display a rude splendor. Like many in their trade they keep their worldly wealth upon their person, including jewelled swords, inlaid armor, heavy torcs, and fine silks. Many wear a lord's ransom in golden arm rings, with each ring signifying one year's service with the Golden Company.

•The captain-general's tent, made of cloth-of-gold, is surrounded by a ring of pikes topped with the gilded skulls of previous captains-general. A rather morbid display, but it signified strength- something that Rhaegar appreciated. He explained who he was, how Aegon Targaryen was his ancestor, and how he, along with his siblings and their dragons, intend to take back King’s Landing and rule the Seven Kingdoms once more, but that he couldn’t do such a thing without an army.Harry counters that Rhaegar has the Unsullied. Rhaegar replies that the Unsullied are a fraction of what he needed. He also added that the pay would be handsome, and waves forth Ser Barristan, who brings with him five trunks full of jewels and gold- all from House Targaryen.

•Harry agrees to help on the condition that only a portion of the Golden Company would return with Rhaegar at the time being; the rest would set sail for King’s Landing once Rhaegar was prepared to launch a formal attack. Rhaegar agreed with this, for it was the best deal that he would get.

•Daenerys sits in her throne room where she is receiving another day's supplicants. An old man named Fennesz approaches the throne. Fennesz explains that he was not one of the slaves who toiled away at manual labor, but a well-educated teacher and servant to Master Mighdal, who employed him as a teacher for his own children. He tells Daenerys that Master Mighdal's seven-year-old daughter Calla admires Daenerys, having learned of the Targaryen dynasty through Fennesz's teachings. As a servant of Master Mighdal, Fennesz was well-treated and even well-respected in the household, but when Daenerys forcibly freed all of the slaves in the city she did not understand the full-scale complications of suddenly having to care for so many people. Fennesz originally stayed in Master Mighdal's house after she took the city. Mighdal's children begged him to stay, but Mighdal and Fennesz agreed that he must leave rather than face reprisals, forcing Fennesz to become homeless. Daenerys insists that she had established mess halls to feed the freed slaves and barracks to house them. Fennesz says that he has visited these refugee centers and they are not very safe: the young prey on the old, harassing and robbing them. Daenerys insists that the Unsullied will restore order, but Fennesz points out that even assuming that they are able to ensure his physical safety, he has lost his livelihood and his purpose and is too old to start anew. Therefore, he has come to Daenerys to beg her permission to sell himself back to Mighdal. She is shocked that he would want to be an owned as a slave again, as a man might own a goat or a chair.

•He implores her that the young who can adapt rejoice in her new world, but for those too old to change, there is only fear and squalor. Nor, he says, is he alone: there are many supplicants waiting outside lining up to make similar requests. Daenerys is crestfallen and says she did not liberate the slaves of Meereen only to preside over the very injustice she sought to destroy, but surprisingly relents and admits that freedom means making one's own choices. Viserys argues, saying how this could become dangerous, how the masters could abuse this, that they should wait for Rhaegar to return, but she does not listen. Therefore, she allowed Fennesz to enter into a labor contract with Mighdal, but lasting no more than one year. He earnestly thanks her, and leaves. The next supplicant then enters, a shepherd carrying a bundle in his arms. The shepherd timidly approaches and states that he is unable to speak in the common tongue and requires Missandei to translate. Distraught, he tells Daenerys that the "winged shadow" came, placing the bundle on the ground and opening it to reveal charred bones - of a human child. Daenerys's largest dragon, the pitch-black Vhagon, has roasted the man's three-year-old daughter Zalla until this is all that was left of her.

•Horrified, Daenerys meets with Missandei and Grey Worm in private to discuss the details of Zalla's death and how to deal with the growing threat the dragons are posing to the people of Meereen. Grey Worm reports that Vhagon was last seen flying over the Black Cliffs three days ago, but he can no longer be found. Realizing that she can no longer control the dragons, Daenerys tells them to head with her to the catacombs under the city. Viserys, distraught, realizes what Daenerys intends to do, and tries to reason with her: chaining the dragons up would do more harm than good, that they need the open air and skies. Later, she leads her remaining two dragons, Rhaenyx and Meraxal, into the catacombs, where they are distracted by sheep carcasses. As they are feeding, Daenerys personally locks huge iron collars around their necks, which are secured by heavy chains. She weeps as she does so, as it is symbolically reducing the remaining "children" to chained-up slaves themselves. Viserys stands back and watches, not quite crying, but his eyes are damp as Daenerys returns without the dragons. Daenerys wordlessly leaves and closes the huge stone door to the catacombs behind her as her dragons grow distressed and pathetically call after her. When they attempt to follow, they realize they are chained in place.

•Rhaegar begins to travel back to Meereen, the thirty-two ships full of both Unsullied and members of the Golden Company. He mentions to Barristan how he cannot wait to finally return to Dragonstone, to Westeros.

𝐒𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐨𝐧 𝐅𝐢𝐯𝐞 •Following the removal of the golden harpy from the top of the Great Pyramid and the subsequent murder of White Rat, Daenerys is furious. She orders that he be buried with full honors in the Temple of the Graces as a statement to the Sons of the Harpy, and orders that the Unsullied patrol the streets of Meereen. She later receives Hizdahr zo Loraq's report on the situation in Yunkai. Daenerys is pleased that the Wise Masters will share their rule with the former slaves but refuses to support Hizdahr's concession of allowing the fighting pits to reopen. Viserys tries to talk her into opening the fighting pits, but is ignored outright with a door shut in his face, much to his annoyance. He yells through it, saying how she should listen to him if she didn’t want to “wake the dragon”- to which she laughs.

•Later that night, Daario tries to convince her to reconsider, explaining that he was once a slave who earned his freedom in the pits. The skills he learned ultimately led him to the Second Sons and thence to Daenerys. Upon learning that Vhagon hasn't been seen in weeks, Daario muses on the possibilities of a dragon king with no dragons. In response, Daenerys and Viserys visit Rhaenyx and Meraxal in the catacombs where she imprisoned them. To their horror, they try to attack upon hearing her voice and she is forced to flee with Viserys quickly closing the door. He then turns to her wordlessly, gesturing towards the catacombs as if to say “I told you so”.

•Daenerys leads a council meeting in the pyramid debating the fate of a Son of the Harpy that Daario and Grey Worm found. Barristan pleads that the man deserves a fair trial while the freed Meereenese slave, Mossador, insists Daenerys put the man to death. Viserys is torn during this discussion, for he can see either side, though he does agree that a fair trial would look better.

•Daenerys thanks the advisers for their council and dismisses them, but Viserys asks her for a word in private about their father, the "Mad King". Daenerys initially scoffs at Viserys for reminding her of what she considers her enemies' lies. He tells Daenerys about how their father set entire towns and castles ablaze, murdered sons in front of their fathers, and burned men alive with wildfire, laughing as they screamed. All of this led to a rebellion that killed every Targaryen save for her, Rhaegar and Viserys. Daenerys is visibly shocked but assures Viserys that she is not like their father. Viserys agrees, but he still warns her that the Mad King gave his enemies the justice he thought they deserved, and each time it made him feel powerful and right until the very end. Daenerys promises not to have the Son of the Harpy executed without a fair trial.

•Later, Mossador goes against Dany's order and executes the man, angering Daenerys. She decides to sentence Mossador to death, stating that killing the Son of the Harpy broke the law. A crowd gathers to witness Mossador's execution and Daenerys tells the crowd that when she conquered Meereen she promised freedom and justice, but one cannot exist without the other. Daenerys is escorted away by the Unsullied when riots break out between the freedmen and the masters.

•She retreats to her pyramid where she wants to spend time alone. She steps out onto her balcony and finds Vhagon atop the Great Pyramid. Daenerys is happy to see him and tries reaching out for him, which she hadn't done since the start of her reign over Meereen, but he flies away. Daenerys is left heartbroken as she gazes at Vhagon from the distance.Daenerys looks down at the streets below from her royal apartment in the Great Pyramid. Daario arrives telling her that Hizdahr is in the throne room awaiting her. Daario assures her that he has her well protected, despite claiming she could easily defend herself against Hizdahr. In the throne room, Daenerys hears Hizdahr plead again to reopen the fighting pits of Meereen, but she refuses. Viserys disagrees with this decision. Hizdahr rationally argues that the fighting pits provide a great spectacle that has always been enjoyed by both the masters and slaves, and is one of the few things that can bring the city together. Dany does not interrupt him this time as he continues to offer his proposal.

•Daenerys is devastated upon learning of one of the Unsullied’s untimely death at the hands of the Sons of the Harpy, and grieves over his corpse in the throne room. Upon the suggestion of Daario, Dany decides to round up each of the leaders of Meereen's noble families, including Hizdahr zo Loraq.

•Bringing the eight of them down to the catacombs where Rhaenyx and Meraxal, Dany, with the enforcement of the Unsullied, forces the leaders forwards towards the dragons until one of them is burned alive and then brutally torn apart. Viserys smiles at this, pleased with the fear it drew from the other leaders. Drawn into Dany's debate between mercy and revenge, Missandei advises her to trust the decision that she alone sees. Taking this advice, Dany approaches Hizdahr in his cell, admitting her mistake of refusing to open the fighting pits. Daenerys, in order to secure her bondage with the noble people of Meereen, decides to wed herself to Hizdahr, although she makes it clear that she will be the one in control. Viserys is completely blindsided by this decision, and takes Dany aside to talk to her about this- about their familial traditions. Daenerys will not hear it, claiming that this is the only way.

•Later, while in bed with Daario, Daenerys reassures him that her marriage to Hizdahr is purely political in order to maintain peace. Daario hints at jealousy and asks if Daenerys would marry him instead, but Daenerys, who would like nothing less, is forced to refuse him.

•To everyone's surprise, Viserys, Daenerys, and Hizdahr appear in one of the fighting pits to watch the opening of the games, though Daenerys is visibly uncomfortable at the violent butchery before her, and gets up to leave, she is convinced to stay by Hizdahr. Viserys remains as well, taking interest in the “savage games” of Meereen. While Daenerys argues with Hizdahr, another fighter emerges into the pit and proceeded to overpower the other participants, knocking them down one by one using non-lethal means that caused Dany to become intrigued by this newcomer. When the fighting is over, the surviving fighter reveals himself as Jorah, but Daenerys, who still hasn't forgiven him, orders him taken away. However, Jorah shouts out that he has brought Daenerys a gift. Jorah's companion enters the arena and introduces himself to Daenerys as Tyrion Lannister. Viserys very nearly spills his wine.Daenerys has both Tyrion and Jorah brought before her inside the Great Pyramid. Though she had doubts about the Lannister's claimed identity, she lets him try and talk her out of executing Jorah. On Tyrion's advice, she spares Jorah's life and banishes him from Meereen again (he counseled that she should not kill those devoted to her, but also that Jorah could not be present should she ever claim Westeros). Tyrion asks where Rhaegar is; Daenerys states that he is returning with the Golden Company, much to Tyrion’s shock.

•Later, over wine, Daenerys and Tyrion speak about their families and past. Daenerys is still thinking about executing Tyrion, mostly as revenge against the Lannisters for betraying her family, but decides not to when she sees Tyrion's indifference to death. Tyrion warns her that the noble families of Westeros are too busy fighting the game of thrones or exhausted to help them reclaim the Iron Throne, and suggests that they consolidate their power in Meereen and build a new kingdom for themselves. Daenerys says they will only stay in Meereen long enough to stabilize the situation and likens Westeros's game of thrones to a spinning wheel, with the Great Houses as spokes. Tyrion dismisses her idealism, noting that others have tried to stop the wheel, but Daenerys firmly declares that she and Rhaegar intend to break the wheel, not just stop it. She then informs Tyrion that she will advise Rhaegar to take him on as an advisor, but confiscates his wine – she needs him to communicate in complete sentences.

•Attended by Tyrion Lannister, Missandei, Viserys, Hizdahr zo Loraq and Daario Naharis, Daenerys sits in the royal box at the Daznak's Pit and watches to crowd; they are silent. Hizdahr tells her to clap her hands, which she does, beginning the Great Games. She then notices Jorah in the array of fighters, who gives the traditional dedication to her and manages to be the last fighter standing. At this moment, Jorah suddenly hurls a spear at the royal box – embedding itself in a Son of the Harpy sneaking behind Daario.

•Suddenly, Sons of the Harpy reveal themselves on every level of the arena and begin slaughtering collaborating Masters and freedmen alike – Hizdahr included. Jorah and Daario evacuate Daenerys from the royal box, while Tyrion and Viserys rescue Missandei. Finding the exits blocked, the group makes a stand in the center of the Pit with the remainder of the Unsullied defenders. Seeing they are hopelessly outnumbered, Daenerys takes Missandei's hand and closes her eyes, ready to face her death.

•At that moment, a draconic screech pierces the air, and Vhagon descends upon the arena, flying out of a giant flame burst. Many of the Sons scatter in terror as Vhagon bites and mercilessly burns the nearest ones to death. The Sons rally enough to attack Vhagon with spears, which Daenerys hastily makes an effort to remove. Trying to get Vhagon out of the Sons' range, Dany climbs atop his back and bids him to fly, becoming the first Targaryen dragonrider in over a century. The Sons of the Harpy temporarily routed, Daario, Jorah, Missandei and Tyrion look on in astonishment as Vhagon, with Daenerys on his back, soars away.

•Daenerys is able to still see as Viserys, with his attention on his baby sister, is cut down by a Son of the Harpy, much to her horror. Eventually, the Unsullied are able to contain the fighting, but Viserys’s wounds are simply too much and cannot be healed, and he dies within the fighting pit. His last thought was that the Targaryens are finally back with their mighty dragons, and how he could not wait to see Westeros from the air.

•Later, Daenerys finds herself far away from Meereen, atop an impressive hill in a sea of green grass. Vhagon is still recovering from his wounds and is uninterested in flying back. Unfortunately, he's also not interested in finding them any food. Daenerys wanders away to find something for them, but is shocked to see a trio of Dothraki bloodriders emerge. Within minutes, an entire khalasar has her surrounded. Understanding what might happen to her, she quickly removes a ring and drops it in the grass, determined to leave a trail.

[islam-for-girls]

BEFORE the time of The Prophet Muhammad (pbuh), women were hardly seen as human. Women in general were seen as objects and were treated carelessly.

In Ancient Greece terms such as ‘chattels’ (possessions of men) and ‘gynes’ (bearers of children), were derogatory names given to woman. Seen as only sexual items, women were treated with no bodily, emotional or spiritual respect. They were not given the right to deal in legal matters, deal with money, war or show any form of intellect. According to various sources, in various cultures women were not allowed to attain inheritance as only men were entitled to it.

5000 years ago, prostitution was widespread. Females were conceived as ‘glamorous but empty’; they were seen to have no intelligence and no personality. Their bodily modesty was disregarded as they were forced to be sexual slaves, they were objects of gratification. All strengths of a woman, their wills, their life-aims, their personality and their modesty were seen as meaningless. They were forced unwillingly to be the sexual items of the men who falsely and wrongly nominated themselves as their masters.

As Christianity developed it considered complete abstinence from sex as the ideal. Churches started revelations concerning ‘anti-sex’ and ‘anti-woman’ to complete this notion. A virgin daughter was unfairly ‘given’ a higher place in heaven than her mother, because her mother had sex in order to bear her. In Christianity nuns are considered holy and closer to God, but are still not given their humanly rights. Nuns are forbidden to own any material object, and are forbidden to have sexual relations and therefore cannot express love without feeling shame (www.benedictinenuns.org.uk). In the Catholic religion, divorce was seen as unholy trapping women in abusive and horrible marriages (en.m.wikipedia.org)

“There is no need for us to mention the situation of women in Greek, Persian or Jewish society, but even Christian societies had a bad attitude towards women. The theologians even gathered at the Council of Macon to discuss whether a woman was merely a body or a body with a soul. They thought it most likely that women did not have a soul that could be saved, and they made an exception only in the case of Saint Mary (as), Mother of Jesus (as)

The French held a conference in 586 CE to discuss whether women had souls or not, and if they had souls, were these souls animal or human? In the end, they decided that they were human, but they were created to serve men only! During the time of Henry VIII, the English Parliament issued a decree forbidding women to read the New Testament because they were regarded as impure. Until 1805, English law allowed a man to sell his wife, and set a wife’s price at six pennies.” (http://islamqa.info/en/70042)

With the coming of Islam, Islam decreed elevation of the status of woman

The Prophet Muhammad (pbuh) had witnessed the oppression of women and acted against the oppression evident with Hadith. Many Quranic verses from God Almighty were revealed in the purpose of protecting woman and uplifting their status; showing them equal to men. In Islam we are defined as being human, not a gender:

“So know that there is no god save Allah, ask forgiveness for your sins and for the believing men and the believing women. Allah knows well your moving and your place of rest.”

(47:19)

“…Indeed, the most noble of you in the sight of Allah is the most righteous of you…”

(49:13)

“To whomever, male or female, does good deeds and has faith, We shall give a good life and reward them according to the best of their actions.”

(16:97)

“And they (women) have rights similar (to those of their husbands) over them to what is reasonable, but men have a degree (of responsibility) over them. And Allah is All-Mighty, All-Wise”

(2:228)

“and live with them honourably”

(4:19)

The Prophet Muhammad (pbuh) said:

“I urge you to treat women well.”

(al-Bukhaari, 331; Muslim, 1468.)

The Prophet Muhammad (pbuh) said:

“The best of you is the one who is best to his wife, and I am the best of you to my wives.”

(al-Tirmidhi, 3895; Ibn Maajah, 1977; classed as saheeh by al-Albaani in Saheeh al-Tirmidhi)

In Islam, women are empowered to search for knowledge and intelligence. Women are seen as humans. Men and women are equal in their rights!

“It is only those who have knowledge among His servants that fear Allah.”

(35:28)

“And say: My Lord increase me in knowledge.”

(20:114)

It was narrated from Anas bin Malik that the Messenger of Allah (pbuh) said:

“Seeking knowledge is a duty upon every Muslim…”

(Sunan Ibn Majah)

In Islam women are allowed to take witness to legal documents

“…And get two witnesses out of your own men. And if there are not two men (available), then a man and two women, such as you agree for witnesses, so that if one of them (two women) errs, the other can remind her…”

(2:282)

Islam allows women to choose their spouses so that they are not forced into an unwanted marriage

It was narrated from Abu Hurayrah (may Allaah be pleased with him) that the Prophet (pbuh) said:

“No previously-married woman should be married off without being consulted and no virgin should be married off without asking her permission.”

They said:

“O Messenger of Allah, what is her permission?”

He said:

“If she remains silent.”

(al-Bukhaari, 4843; Muslim, 1419)

Islam elevates the mother by saying the child’s Heaven (be they a son or daughter) is under her feet

“Stay with her for Paradise is beneath her feet.”

(Saheeh Sunan Ibn Maajah)

Abu Hurayrah (may Allah be pleased with him) said:

A man came to the Messenger of Allah (pbuh) and said:

“O Messenger of Allah, who is most deserving of my good company?”

He said:

“Your mother.”

He said:

“Then who?”

He said:

“Your mother.”

He said:

“Then who?”

He said:

“Your mother.”

He said:

“Then who?”

He said:

“Then your father.”

Islam elevates the status of daughters

The Prophet (pbuh) said:

“Whoever takes care of two girls until they reach adulthood, he and I will come like this on the Day of Resurrection,” and he held his fingers together.

(Muslim, 2631)

Ibn Maajah (3669) narrated that ‘Uqbah ibn ‘Aamir (may Allaah be pleased with him) said:

I heard the Messenger of Allah (pbuh) say:

“Whoever has three daughters and is patient towards them, and feeds them, gives them to drink and clothes them from his riches, they will be a shield for him from the Fire on the Day of Resurrection.”

(Classed as saheeh by al-Albaani in Saheeh Ibn Maajah)

Islam protects a woman’s modesty with Hijab, and forces the man to look at her inwardly at her religion, personality, intelligence, emotions and her soul; rather than just look at her body like a material object ♥

Hijab overrules any notion that a man can use a woman who wears Hijab in prostitution or in any degrading manner; Hijab is a sign of strength and protection. Hijab is a sign of the Mercy God has on women ♥ The Believing women in Islam ♥

And even then, Hijab is not forced on the Muslim women; “there is no compulsion in religion” Quran (2:256) ♥ she does it out of her own desire and empowerment to be devote to her God.

Islam allows women to receive inheritance and even go to war if necessary and under threat. Islam is peace and freedom.

(other sources: Tutorial Letter MGG2602, Department of Social Work, UNISA)