-> @methysko hope to see you there 💙

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-> @methysko hope to see you there 💙

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hey everyone 💜 i think it's fair to say that my numerous attempts to come back to marg and reconnect with her have been a bust; not because i lack her voice, but because she's not a "central focus" character for me anymore. maybe that will change, maybe not. in any case, in the meantime, i will be moving her to a multimuse @methysko. you will notice that blog has not been set up in any way yet. :') i am going to take tonight to set up that blog. it will have several other characters of mine, including my wicked witch of the west, as well as some ocs and other canons, focusing primarily on sapphic horror/weird and historical characters... with a bonus appearance from the phantom of the opera, probably. i hope to see you there.
as i'm working my way back here, please enjoy this wicked stepmother asmr video from one of my favoriteeeeee asmrtists and there's a twist ending :^)
The Muppet Show | Official Trailer
ℝ𝔼𝔹𝔼ℂℂ𝔸 𝕎𝔼𝕃𝕋𝕆ℕ 𝕀ℕ 𝔼𝕍𝔼ℝ𝕐 𝔼ℙ𝕀𝕊𝕆𝔻𝔼 - 𝕊𝕖𝕒𝕤𝕠𝕟 𝟙, 𝔼𝕡𝕚𝕤𝕠𝕕𝕖 𝟙

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maintaining boundaries, prioritizing one's closest and most important relationships, and not allowing unwanted connections to drain our emotional energy are fine when everyone ELSE does it, but when i, lady tremaine,
An adjustment of the radio dial brings Mr. New Vegas into the room with them. "Here," Margarethe says, turning to @atomiqueen, "you know how to dance, don't you?" She bats her eyelashes and twirls her skirt with a to-and-fro movement of her hips, as though she were the girl and Lucy the grown woman; breaks the moment with a laugh and offers one hand. "It's a party, isn't it?" she urges her.
A Peggy Lee number and an irregular Lindy hop; a Dean Martin song danced playfully cheek to cheek, Margarethe humming in Lucy's ear, though she does have to stoop. The countdown brings them to a halt for more drinks, Margarethe throwing the curtains aside so they can see the fireworks from the factory in the hills, turning to look at Lucy, and seeing her look--as she always does--incredibly tempting. The devil had to have put those huge eyes in that elfin face.
What can a woman do? Seven, six, five...
"Well," she says. The booms start behind her, always a little early. The air will smell singed and irregular for days. Lucy comes nearer. The silver and green lights make her luminescent in turn. "Happy New Year." Three, two... She leans in and with a delicate press of her lips takes her New Year's gift. ( x )
Send me 💋 to receive a new year’s kiss from my muse!

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🐰🚶➡️🏰
the good doctor is pleased beyond measure with her wife’s tone of voice. she feels it innately, knows so easily, so absolutely, that she’s managed to, yes, defuse the situation. as assumed. she knows well how to gauge the differing octaves in margarethe’s voice — the shrill, high sounds equivalent to pleasure and displeasure alike. alana catalogues these sounds far more sweetly than any others she has cherished.
it is sometimes absurd to think back on a life that feels years and years and lifetimes ago, a version of herself that she truly is no longer. it’s crazed to think that once she laid in hannibal’s bed giggling to the sounds of a theremin whining its dissonant chords. she couldn’t imagine such a thing here, only because it feels right, more right than anything, to lay there in the dark to a soft instrumental humming from the turntable, some brian eno carefully selected, laughing over a great river of cards and a game of gin rummy. she feels complete in this. and it makes her better.
she wishes she’d met margarethe earlier — she’s apologized on a litany of occasions laid up in bed after the quick void of consciousness failed. margarethe frets and alana tries to take precautions, but she’s said time innumerable that unfortunately this is the more defective edition. she’s always sorry she cannot be her. and yet, she’s never punished for it. which is why this, all this, is so easy.
“it’s stupid. i definitely agree with you. but drizella’s very good with the kids. and part of that is the vernacular. just use it the next time you’re angry. i bet she’ll be shellshocked.”
she’ll admit the thought is hilarious. smiling still, she’s methodically moving. there’s a soft foam cushion beneath slippered feet, support enough for the ache in her back. the gold handle of her cane glints in the sun, and alana leans forward to gently draw the gauzey curtains just above the sink. enough to stave off a migraine. she smiles easily.
“yes. of course. what kind of person would i be?” the lightness in her tone is inexplicable every else. a wink accompanies that smile, too, “i have little silver bells leftover from christmas. put those on the handle? —i am sorry,” she affects her wife’s tone unconsciously, a quirk both subconscious and mostly undetectable — mostly, “i thought someone broke in. stupid me, the dogs didn’t move.”
the faucet turns off — carefully, not an errant sound to strike that delicate temple. she quietly drags the stool over to sit just beside, press a kiss to a temple and allow it to linger, lipstick never transferring, not an inch, “thank you for being so patient. with me. overall.” dogs. life.
Margarethe huffs out a breath, allowing the delicate kiss to land on her temple. "Well, it can be trying," she says, still in the pose of the martyr, then lets the suffering look slide away, her green eyes softening, eyelashes now batting with pleasure at Alana's nearness. "Don't be ridiculous," she adds, leaning in for a real kiss.
She's better almost at once. Well, nothing to be done about the headache, but the tension in her chest eases; it's as though there's a string which Alana easily pulls, opening the knot, but that hangs somewhere Margarethe herself can't reach. A long sigh follows. "I'm amazed," she says, "that you don't know about Anastasia."
Elbow propped on the table, she puts her chin in her hand. She's not convinced Alana doesn't know about Anastasia. She lowers her eyelids, studying her husband through slits of green, much as Lucifer might. "She has somebody, you know. Some person. I hear her and Drisella ps-ps-psing," (the fingers of her free hand give an illustrative flutter), "about whoever it is when they think I'm asleep." (Meaning, on the occasions when Alana is out at some conference-or-other, Margarethe's drunk a whole bottle of wine and started snoring in the living room, and Anastasia and Drisella feel themselves quite alone.)
lucy makes very little effort to resist margarethe's overtures, nor her guidance back inside the house. she doesn't truly want to venture out into the wasteland just yet, after all. it's hard to resist something that aligns with what you truly desire. “i don't know. i wouldn't want to be late meeting my traveling companion...” but again, that's not until a whole day from now. perhaps she does have a little bit of time. “i guess i could stay just one more night, if you're sure i'm not imposing.”
"I'm quite sure. Really, Lucy. You make out as though you're some sort of burden." And accommodation here must be so much more comfortable than some rock-studded, back-aching camp out in the wasteland. Margarethe's home is hardly all pre-war finery, but it's certainly more whole, more cozy, and more well-decorated than most of those in the settlement. "Sit down. Take off your boots. I'll pour you a drink. You're sure you wouldn't like to try to some wine?" It's the least revolting of the local alcoholic offerings, even has something of grape to it, though not without a tinny undertone which, she understands, comes from all the ancient scrap used in the brewing process.
She pauses in the doorway with Lucy seated comfortably in front of the hearth, timing to catch her with boots halfway off, leaning back to ask with infinite solicitude, "And you're sure you wouldn't like... Something else to wear? Just for the night, perhaps? You've had that suit on for ages."
btw, in terms of gameplay, that headcanon does not mean that supernatural beings are nerfed around marg. not in the slightest. she's still, at her core, a regular human and she can be enspelled, ensnared, and whatever en-verb you'd like. but i do think that it constitutes a tool in our storytelling toolbox and can be utilized in interesting ways. for example, in one version of a pl*ribus au, marg might be one of the last conscious humans on earth because of this quality; or in another take, she might be a member of the hive, but one that is constantly on the verge of shaking off the joining. it's just something that can contribute wrinkles and challenges in the overall story we (myself and any partner who might choose to write with me) are telling.
here is a small headcanon that possibly constitutes shinfo on my part.
magic and the supernatural technically exist in margarethe's original canon, given the intervention of a fairy godmother in ella's life, the magical transformation of various animals, and so forth. that said, she is very stubbornly non-magical as a positive attribute. that is, it's not simply that she doesn't have magic nor does anyone magical intervene in her own life, it's that she more or less rejects it on some level that goes beyond the rational element of her mind saying "magic doesn't exist", to the point where i consider this a characteristic of her having something that is a quality of non-magic, versus simply the negative of not having magic herself.
the reason i have this hc is because of a few moments in the 2015 movie. one of the problems with the 2015 adaptation is that it tries to over-rationalize the story, adding padding and explanations in order to explain away some of the "cinema sins" elements of the original fairy tale. it's not great from a storytelling standpoint, but for me, it gives me some useful information about marg and her relative position in the magical world she technically inhabits.
in the 2015 movie, the writers attempt to solve the problem of ella going to the ball without being recognized by her stepfamily by having the fairy godmother cast an additional spell that makes her unrecognizable to them. she explicitly says, "don't worry, i'll make sure they don't recognize you," before casting the spell here (the sparkles surrounding ella in the second image).
and indeed at first it seems like no one knows it's her. marg goes snooping around the ball, leading to her first encounter with the grand duke, but there's no hint at first that she knows it's her. but when they get home and are sitting with ella in the kitchen (their equivalent of "a lovely night", more or less), marg is watching ella like this as she's telling the story about the "vulgar young hussy" who "threw herself at the prince":
then, she tells anastasia and drisella after they complete the story, "it doesn't matter, girls. the ball was a mere diversion. the prince is not free to marry for love. he's promised to the princess chelina of zaragosa." and when she says that, she's staring at ella like this:
i think it's extremely clear at this point that she knows ella is the mystery princess. it's the only way that the events that follow--margarethe hearing the royal proclamation, then going to unearth the glass slipper and confront ella about the ball and her relationship with kit--make even a little bit of sense. i might talk about her reasons for holding onto this info and waiting in a follow-up post, but for now, the point i want to make is:
the fairy godmother is a powerful being (following later cinderella cartoon canon, her wand alone is so powerful that when lady tremaine steals it, she can use it to alter time itself). i can only imagine that her spell made ella look completely unrecognizable, hence why even ana and dris don't figure it out until the end of the movie (i will note that they are pretty unobservant and don't see ella dancing/swaying with herself, so they are missing that clue). but given that all it took for 1950 lady tremaine to recognize ella as the mystery princess was that dancing... the added wrinkle of the magic spell implies something about 2015 tremaine; it says something about her and her perception.
part of this is something i have to write about in another post, which is margarethe's intuition. but something i'm taking and running with as well is the idea that margarethe's non-magical quality is so strong that it pushed the fairy godmother's spell out of the way. margarethe bent her will to figure something out, and it was so forceful that it strained the spell and allowed her to see through its threads to what was beyond. i imagine that, if a supernatural or magical being were to encounter canon marg in the wild, their powers might just slide off of her in a way that makes no sense. she is so non-magical that magic bounces off.

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#MOSTMISERABLE - a blog for carol sturka from the show pluribus. writes both pre show and during. low activity. also open to write on discord. mature themes will be present. written by maddie, 25, she/her, est timezone.
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