#(the Renaissance was big on recorders)

[rowenabean]

those realisations that take you years to achieve... I have wished for so long that harps were more portable so I could jam with people more often and then about a month ago I was like rowena. You could just get a recorder.

Yesterday played recorder with my mum and uncle and it was so much fun would do again!

[parf-fan]

2024 logistical edit: Ultimate Joust, main season

Comprised of footage and audio from: August 24th; September 7th, 21st, 22nd, 28th; October 5th, 6th. Despite often using footage intended for cinematic edits, this edit is primarily pieced together not with an eye for drama or cinematography, or even storytelling; rather, with an eye for that which is indicative of the overall or “average” version of the show.

Unending thanks to @merlinwinchestr for allowing me to use her footage/audio to supplement my own. All September 7th footage belongs to MerlinWinchestr (12:51–13:06 and 13:28–13:44 and 17:36–17:50), as well as the September 7th audio (17:36–17:50 and 17:50–17:54, the latter of which is overlaid atop my own audio). Footage is watermarked in the lower left corner. Audio is watermarked in the upper right corner.

[ilookattextile]

I got a job at a Ukrainian museum.

On the first day someone asks me if I have any Ukrainian heritage. I say I had ancestors from Odesa, but they were Jewish, so they weren’t considered Ukrainian, and they wouldn’t have considered themselves Ukrainian. My job is every day I go through boxes of Ukrainian textiles and I write a physical description, take measurements, take photographs, and upload everything into the database. I look up “Jewish” in the database and there is no result. 

Some objects have no context at all, some come with handwritten notes or related documents. I look at thick hand-spun, hand-woven linen heavy with embroidery. Embroidery they say can take a year or more. I think of someone dressed for a wedding in their best clothes they made with their own hands. Some shirts were donated with photographs of the original owners dressed in them, for a dance at the Ukrainian Labour Temple, in 1935. I handle the pieces carefully, looking at how they fit the men in the photos, and how they look almost a hundred years later packed in acid-free tissue. One of the men died a few years later, in the war. He was younger than I am now. The military archive has more photographs of him with his mother, his father, his fiancé. I take care in writing the catalogue entry, breathing in the history, getting tearful. 

I imagine people dressed in their best shirts at Easter, going around town in their best shirts burning the houses of Jews, in their best shirts, killing Jews. A shirt with dense embroidery all over the sleeves and chest has a note that says it is from Husiatyn. I look it up and find that it was largely a Jewish town, and Ukrainians lived in the outskirts. There is a fortress synagogue from the Renaissance period, now abandoned. 

When my partner Aaron visits I take him to an event at the museum where a man shows his collection of over fifty musical instruments from Ukraine, and he plays each one. Children are seated on the floor at the front. We’re standing in a corner, the room full of Ukrainians, very aware that we look like Jews, but not sure if anyone recognizes what that looks like anymore. Aaron gets emotional over a song played on the bandura. 

A note with a dress says it came from the Buchach region. I find a story of Jewish life in Buchach in the early twentieth century, preparing to flee as the Nazis take over. I cry over this.

I’m cataloguing a set of commemorative ribbons that were placed on the grave of a Ukrainian Nationalist leader, Yevhen Konovalets, after he was assassinated. The ribbons were collected and stored by another Nationalist, Andriy Melnyk, who took over leadership after Konovalets’ death. The ribbons are painted or embroidered with messages honouring the dead politician. I start to recognize the word for “leader”, the Cyrillic letters which make up the name of the colonel, the letters “OYH” which stand for Organization of Ukrainian Nationalists (OUN in English). The OUN played a big part in the Lviv pogroms in 1941, I learn. The Wikipedia article has a black and white image of a woman in her underwear, running in terror from a man and a young boy carrying a stick of wood. The woman’s face is dark, her nose may be bleeding. Her underwear is torn, her breast exposed. I’m measuring, photographing, recording the stains and loose threads in the banners that honour men who would have done this to me. 

Every day I can’t stop looking at my phone, looking up the news from Gaza, tapping through Instagram stories that show what the news won’t. Half my family won’t talk to the other half, after I share an article by a scholar of Holocaust and genocide studies, who says Israel is committing a genocide. My dad makes a comment that compares Gaza to the Warsaw Ghetto. This gets him in trouble. My aunt says I must have learned this antisemitism at university, but there is no excuse for my dad. 

This morning I see images from Israeli attacks in the West Bank, where they are not at war. There are naked bodies on the dusty ground. I’m not sure if they are alive. This is what I think of when I see the image from the Lviv pogrom. If what it means for Jews to be safe from oppression is to become the oppressor, I don’t want safety. I don’t want to speak about Jews as if we are one People, because I have so little in common with those in green uniforms and tanks. I am called a self-hating Jew but I think I am a self-reflecting Jew.

I don’t know how to articulate how it feels to be handling objects which remind me of Jewish traumas I inherited only from history classes and books. Textiles hold evidence of the bodies that made them and used them. I measure the waist of a skirt and notice that it is the same as my waist size. I think of clothing and textiles that were looted from Jewish homes during pogroms. I think of clothing and textiles that were looted from Palestinian homes during the ongoing Nakba. Clothes hold the shape of the body that once dressed in them. Sometimes there are tears, mends, stains. I am rummaging through personal belongings in my nitrile gloves. 

I am hands-on learning about the violence caused by Ukrainian Nationalism while more than nine thousand Palestinians have been killed by the State of Israel in three weeks, not to mention all those who have been killed in the last seventy-five years of occupation, in the name of the Jewish Nation, the Jewish People — me? If we (and I am hesitant to say “we”) learned anything from the centuries of being killed, it was how to kill. This should not have been the lesson learned. Zionism wants us to feel constantly like the victims, like we need to defend ourself, like violence is necessary, inevitable. I need community that believes in freedom for all, not just our own People. I need the half of my family who believes in this necessary “self-defence” to remember our history, and not just the one that ends happily ever after with the creation of the State of Israel. Genocide should not be this controversial. We should not be okay with this. 

Tomorrow I will go to work and keep cataloguing banners that honour the leader of an organization which led pogroms. I will keep checking the news, crying into my phone, coordinating with organizers about our next actions, grappling with how we can be a tiny part in ending this genocide that the world won’t acknowledge, out of guilt over the ones it ignored long ago. 

[mayajadewrites]

── .✦ Renaissance - Levi Ackerman .✦ ──

🪽 ˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳ levi x fem reader

summary: levi leaves you in the underground for the scouts, only for him to find you again in marley when the war is over. however, nothing about you is the same as it once was. you are not the same person you were 12 years ago. cw: canon universe, eventual smut, fluff, yearning ao3 also in this story Levi doesn't need a wheelchair so hope you don't mind.

CHAPTER ONE

12 years later

War is over.

Titans have been eradicated, but at the cost of 80% of humanity.

Narrowly, you avoided the rumbling that trampled hundreds of thousands of people.

About 7 years after Levi left, you escaped the underground to find a new home. A new life.

Wishful thinking - since everyone treats people from the Underground the same. Like absolute dog shit. You lived in many cities over the years. But somehow, some way, you found yourself in Marley a few months after the war ended.

Birthdays came and went - and your 29th birthday just passed. Everything about your life changed. What you look like, what makes you happy, you're almost unrecognizable.

Being malnourished has made your body stunt in growth, and with being a woman comes birthing hips and curves you didn't know you could get.

Every day since Levi left, you've thought of him. Making sure you remember what he looks like, what his voice sounds like. At first you would try to keep up with what the Scout Regiment was doing, but they're stealthy, and you could only catch whispers of soldiers who passed away.

You always listened for the one name that mattered to you: Levi Ackerman.

Over the years, people in every city would talk a lot about Levi. How great of a soldier he is, how strong he is, and how everyone is afraid of him. Everyone in the walls knew who he was, outside the walls too.

Soon, he got the title of 'Captain'.

Captain Levi Ackerman.

You still remember the moment you heard someone utter his name - it was like your heart stopped beating right in your chest.

Captain Levi? Does he look the same? Is he eating? Sleeping? Is he able to drink his favorite tea?

For the record, if Levi knew how you've been living all of these years he would be livid. Appalled.

Before you got to Marley, you began working at brothels. It was the only thing you could do as a woman in the underground. Selling your body to make money - never feeling an ounce of pleasure from any of it.

You had no other choice. There was no other way for you to survive. There was no Levi to save you, so this is how you saved yourself.

When Levi left you, you were pure. Untouched, beautiful.

Now, you're stained.

Levi hates stains.

A few months after the rumbling, Marley was being rebuilt. Houses were being constructed, shops opening. With one bag in your hand and a dress you haven't worn in years, you find yourself in Marley.

People were working together, for once. No one was defensive and full of tension, or screaming.

You watched as small children played with simple toys, the sound of their laughs bringing a smile to your face. One of the children kicked their ball towards you, letting it hit your feet.

You smile at them, they probably think you're young too with how short you are. You gently kick the ball in their direction, watching them all giggle as they continue playing.

When you look to your right, you see a tea shop. Looks rather new, but open. You purse your lips in thought, tilting your head curiously as you look at the building.

You are rather thirsty.

When you open your purse, you see some bills from a client you had the night before. "Thank goodness." You sigh, tilting your head back as you feel the warm spring heat on your face.

You're still not used to being in the sun so much. It's something that everyone, and you mean everyone takes for granted.

When you would make small talk with the other girls that work at the brothel, they acted like being able to feel the warmth of the sun was no big deal.

As you walk into the tea shop, you peer around, looking for someone, anyone. The walls are pretty bare, decorated with newspaper articles and a few florals placed around the space.

"Hello?" You finally speak, your eyebrows raised as you look from left to right.

Nothing.

"Maybe it's not open." You sigh, walking up to one of the newspaper articles on the wall. You have to squint to read the text, but a few words stand out.

CAPTAIN LEVI ACKERMAN. HUMANITY'S STRONGEST SOLDIER.

As you read the article, you can feel goosebumps forming all over your body, sending shivers down your spine.

Then you saw a picture of him.

He's in his Scout Regiment uniform, a forest green hooded cape over his head. Your eyes find his on the page and your breath hitches.

Fuck, he's so beautiful.

"Oi, we're not open -" You hear a deep voice from behind you, startling you as you turn around on your heel, your breath stolen from you.

In front of you is Levi Ackerman, but not the Levi that left you 12 years ago.

[hemmingsleclerc]

Charles x reader where we’re going on our Renaissance world tour and our daughter comes out on stage with us (like blue Ivy). Charles + Leclerc family’s reactions and the grids reactions maybe??

World Tour���charles leclerc

pairing(s): charles leclerc x singer!fem!reader

a/n: I LOVED THIS IDEA OMG!!! Hope u like it 💕💕

𖧧  ִֶָ 𖥔 ﾟ˖ ⊹ › ‹ ᵎ 𖧧. ⊹ ˖ ♡.˚˳𖧧  ִֶָ 𖥔 ﾟ˖ ⊹ › ‹ ᵎ 𖧧. ⊹ ˖ ♡.˚˳𖧧  ִֶָ 𖥔 ﾟ˖ ⊹ › ‹ ᵎ𖧧  ִֶָ 𖥔 ﾟ˖ ⊹ ›

‹ ᵎ 𖧧. ⊹ ˖ ♡.˚˳𖧧  ִֶָ 𖥔 ﾟ˖ ⊹ › ‹ ᵎ 𖧧. ⊹ ˖ ♡.˚˳𖧧  ִֶָ 𖥔 ﾟ˖ ⊹ › ‹ ᵎ𖧧  ִֶָ 𖥔 ﾟ˖ ⊹ › ‹ ᵎ 𖧧. ⊹ ˖

The lights in the sold-out stadium went out and the crowd noise grew louder as the opening chords of the song echoed through the arena. Charles sat in the VIP section, a proud smile on his face as he watched his wife take the stage. Next to him were his mother and brothers, as well as his closest friends, including Lando, Max, Daniel, Oscar with his girlfriend Lily, George with Carmen, Pierre with Kika, and Lewis.

Y/n's voice filled the stadium, moving everyone present. Halfway through the concert, a spotlight suddenly illuminated a small figure walking towards the stage. It was Jules, their daughter, dressed in a mini version of her mother's outfit that night.

Lando gasped and clutched his chest dramatically. "I think I'm going to faint," he whispered loudly, making the others laugh.

Daniel jumped from his seat, raising his arms in the air. "Jules! No way!" he yelled as he began to jump with joy.

Max had tears in his eyes. He dried them quickly, not wanting anyone to see them, but he couldn't help the wide smile that spread across his face. "She's amazing," he said softly, his voice filled with awe as he clutched his head. As the music intensified, Max began to sing and dance, performing the choreography to perfection. "I've never practiced this," he muttered under his breath, although everyone knew he had been doing it for the past two weeks.

Oscar leaned forward, his eyes wide with amazement. "She's amazing," he commented, clearly impressed as he smiled big.

Lily nodded, her eyes shining. "She is a star in the making" she said enjoying the concert too much, as she was a big fan of Y/n.

George was standing, clapping to the beat. "This is amazing! Watch her dance!" Carmen, next to him, was just as cheerful, loudly cheering for Jules.

Pierre put his arm around Kika and they both began to dance together. "Jules is naturally talented," Kika said, her voice full of admiration and emotion. The two began shouting at the top of their lungs in support of Jules, his voices almost drowned out by the cheers of the crowd.

Lewis recorded the moment on his phone, capturing every second. "This is going to be iconic," he said, already planning to send the video to Jules later.

When Jules began to dance alongside her mother, the audience erupted in cheers. The energy in the stadium was incredible. Charles couldn't contain his emotions. He stood up and joined the rest of the drivers as they sang. His heart filled with pride as he watched her daughter share the stage with the same grace and confidence as his beautiful wife.

Lando, now fully recovered from his initial shock, began to dance to the music, his movements exaggerated. "This is the best concert ever!" He declared, spinning around and nearly knocking Max over to the floor.

Max, despite his earlier tears, was now dancing out of pure joy. "I'm having the best time of my life!" he shouted over the music, following the choreography perfectly.

Daniel continued cheering loudly, his voice hoarse but his emotion intact. "Jules, you're amazing, I'm your fan!"

The concert continued with Jules and Y/n performing a duet. As the final notes of the song faded, the crowd erupted in applause. Jules and Y/n bowed as they said goodbye as confetti exploded from the sky and the rest of the dancers joined in to say goodbye.

Charles, almost on the verge of losing his voice, shouted proudly of his wife and daughter.

As the concert came to an end, Charles and his friends headed backstage to congratulate Y/n and Jules. The reunion was filled with laughter, hugs, and a few more tears as everyone celebrated the night.

Charles hugged Jules tightly and lifted her off the ground. "You were amazing, my little star."

Jules laughed and her eyes shone with happiness. "Did you like it, dad?"

''I adored it'' he said while with her other arm he hugged Y/n around her waist to give her a kiss.

[dumbbitchenergy17]

Timeline of Rumors

Pairing: Paul Mescal x Reader [SMAU]

Warnings: sweet moments, laughter giggles, just general fluff

a/n: IGNORE THE FACECLAIM they're placeholders just picture what you like!

SEPT 1, 2023

iampedro'sloyalsubject BRO PEDRO AND Y/N ARE AT THE SAME RENAISSANCE TOUR NIGHT AS ME HOLY SHIT I CAN SEE THEM.

y/n’swife ARE YOU SERIOUS PROOF

joelmillersbitch I’M SO FUCKING JEALOUS ARE YOU SERIOUS!

iampedro'sloyalsubject I knew they mentioned going to the concert but I assumed in New York not fucking LA.

pleasebemywifey/n MY FRIENDS GOT TICKETS FOR THIS NIGHT AND WE SAW THEM COMING IN ALONG WITH SARAH PAULSON AND PAUL MESCAL

paulsoulmate …what. PAUL IS THERE?!?!?

pleasebemywifey/n YES!! I TOTALLY FREAKED SEEING Y/N WITH PAUL

A new video by loyalservantofy/n.

The footage shows two girls dancing to the preshow music dressed in silver beside the barricade. The girl holding the camera's face drops when Pedro Pascal is walking alongside Sarah Paulson from the background for a brief moment.

“PEDRO!” The girl screeches turning the camera so it is facing the walkway gaining the male actor’s attention and he sends a smile their way along with a wave which makes the pair of girls fangirl even more.

“I love you, Sarah!” The other shouts to Sarah who smiles and mouths back, “I love you too!” Their excitement only grows from fangirls of Pedro to a full breakdown when they see the coming behind the pair is Y/n L/n dressed in an outfit inspired by Beyonce’s Dangerously In Love Album Cover followed by Paul Mescal who is dressed in all black the pair talking amongst each other while being guided by security.

“Y/N I LOVE YOU!” The girls screech and the young actress sees them sending them a dazzling smile and blowing multiple kisses.

“You guys look gorgeous!” You shout to them over the music and other fans take videos and flashes of cameras. The girls squeal still in awe that they had this insane interaction with these famous stars.

A new video by pedrobbygurl: Didn’t even realize during the Mute Challenge who was behind us!

In the video during the song ‘Energy,’ the crowd bumps to the music as a girl records herself singing along to the words. In the background are Pedro and Sarah singing swaying to the music and beside them are Paul and Y/n singing to each other, mainly Y/n singing to Paul as he smiles looking down at her.

“Look around everybody go mute!” The crowd instantly goes silent and in the background, Y/n rushes to cover Paul’s mouth a wide grin on her face as the whole stadium waits for Beyonce’s cue.

“Look around it’s me and my crew!” Beyonce sings and the crowd roars and you remove your hand from Paul’s mouth as he starts laughing.

“Big Energy!” You both scream before continuing to dance to the rest of the concert.

PedroPascalMessiah Everyone say thank you to Y/n for making sure Paul didn’t fail the Mute Challenge.

ynlover THANK YOU MY WIFE 🙌🏼

paulmescalbby THANK YOU Y/N! Also, y’all noticing how often Y/n and Paul have been hanging out since they were seen together at the Met Gala?

cassiebeans no totally! Like I don’t want to assume anything especially with Paul so secretive [since the Phoebe drama] and we rarely hear about Y/n’s dating life.

kazmourner SPEAKING FACTS! Like I think they might just be friends because of how close she is with her male co-stars and friends. Like I fully thought she and Freddy Carter were together until he got married to his wife. But I'm down with it they would be super cute together

paulmescalbby Did y'all see how he was looking at her?!?! That doesn’t scream friends. BUT ALSO DAISY AND PAUL MY LOVES

A new story post by theeey/n_l/n

The first story is just a photo that has a selfie of the four of you. Sarah and Paul have regular smiles while posing for the picture, you have a bright smile that even through the photo can show how excited you are to be there and Pedro makes a shocked expression eyes glazed in wonder at the concert not even looking at the camera. The caption on the photo just says in all caps ‘BEYONCÉ BEYONCÉ BEYONCÉ!!’ with everyone in the picture tagged.

The next story is a repost from Sarah’s story, Crazy in Love is playing the camera shows Beyoncé and her backup dancers performing before it pans to Pedro who starts faking crying before screaming into the camera, “I’m fucking dying oh my god!” You can hear Sarah’s laughter behind the phone before it pans to Y/n and Paul behind Pedro dancing singing along to the lyrics.

“Y/n! Paul!” Sarah shouts getting your attention and you turn mouthing the words to the camera as Paul raises his beer to the camera his arm wrapped around your waist. You turn your attention to Pedro grabbing his arm the two of you screaming the lyrics to each other before bursting into laughter then the camera moves back to the stage.

DEC 15, 2024

A new post by y/nownsmysoul: OMG I MET Y/N WHEN VISITING FAMILY IN MALTA AND SHE WAS AN ABSOLUTE ANGEL

The post is a selfie of this girl and Y/n outside a cafe. She was dressed very casually a pair of sunglasses pushing back her hair as the pair smiled at the camera.

The next on the slideshow is the full video interaction of the pair. The camera is mainly pointed at the floor and you can hear a girl mumbling encouragements to herself before the sound of footsteps.

“Excuse…Ms. Y/n. Hi, I’m so sorry to bother you but would you mind getting a photo with me? I understand if not,” Her voice trembles before a sweet voice fills the video.

“Of course so nice meeting you what’s your name?” You ask and the girl lifts the camera using a video to take photos while it still records. Moving your items to one hand allowing you to wrap your arm around her waist.

“It’s Nicole,” She says and Y/n smiles as the camera is raised to show them both, “That’s my sister’s name I love that! Okay, smile.” You say and the two of you do a couple of poses but then your phone rings and the person calling can be shown on the camera. The contact says ‘Paul<3’ and the photo is a never-before-seen picture of Paul drinking a Guinness and getting a foam-stache.

“I gotta run Nicole but it was so nice meeting you! Please tag me in that.” You say and Nicole nods watching you head down the street answering the phone before she turns the camera to face herself a shellshock look on her face.

“Holy shit I just met Y/n.”

y/nownsmysoul LOOKING BACK I DIDN’T EVEN NOTICE WHO CALLED HER.

mescalluver OMG THAT PIC! I just fell to my knees in the middle of the street

y/nmescal ‘Paul<3’ BITCH THEY ARE LOVERS NO DOUBT!

y/nsandpedrosbitch What is she doing in Malta? Is she there for Pedro and Paul?! I NEED ANSWERS 🛐🛐🛐

DEC 19, 2023

A new post by theeey/n_l/n

liked by pascalispunk, bigbreadpedlar, and others

theeey/n_l/n Reunited with my favorite guys

tagged: pascalispunk and bigbreadpedlar

pascalispunk I’m shredding your plane ticket you aren’t going back to NYC

theeey/n_l/n fine by me P as long as you're paying my flight back.

pascalispunk ….no

bigbreadpedlar So glad you came <3

theeey/n_l/n ofc! Had to see you in action.

jospehquinn Betrayed…I thought I was a part of the ‘guys’ Y/n. I thought we had something.

theeey/n_l/n I still love you JOSEPH!

cocoullrich The three musketeers together.

DEC 31, 2023

paulsbitch THEY CONFIRMED HOLY FUCK 😀

y/nwife BRO I FELT MY SOUL SHATTER MY LOVER IS NO LONGER MINE! 😦

joelmillerswife.soulmate I FUCKING KNEW IT SINCE THE MET GALA THEY HAD SHIT BREWING 🥳🥳

HusabandtoY/n.Paul BRO THEY BOTH ARE SO HOT. IDK WHO I’D RATHER BE.

A new post by entertainmentweekly: "Star Wars and Gladiator 2 Stars finally confirms the relationship we’ve all been dying to know. View the article to learn of the full timeline."

A new post by theeey/n_l/n

liked by pascalispunk, bigbreadpedlar, bella ramsey and others

theeey/n_l/n So happy to enter this new year with you. So excited to see what is in our future💕

tagged: bigbreadpedlar

bigbreadpedlar love you mo chroí ❤️

theeey/n_l/n 🥰

pascalispunk I’m so happy for you guys making my old heart sing.

theeey/n_l/n awww i love you P 🫶

pascalispunk ❤️

bellaramsey Stop you two are literally so cute together!

nicoparker I second that ☝🏽

zendaya Absolute cuties

A new post by bigbreadpedlar

liked by theeey/n_l/n, pascalispunk, 19irmcas, and others

bigbreadpedlar: To my favorite person — you made this year feel like magic. Can’t wait for what’s next.

tagged: theeey/n_l/n

theeey/n_l/n I love you, you big sap 💕

bigbreadpedlar I love you more

pascalispunk I’m getting cavities on how sweet you two are.

19irmcas You both are so hot

cocoullrich correct

josephquinn paul you better watch after her that is my unofficial sister!

theeey/n_l/n don’t remember our parents getting married but I love the sentiments

[mostlysignssomeportents]

Academic economists get big payouts when they help monopolists beat antitrust

After 40 years of rampant corporate crime, there's a new sheriff in town: Jonathan Kanter was appointed by Biden to run the DOJ Antitrust Divisoon, and he's overseen 170 "significant antitrust actions" in the past 2.5 years, culminating in a court case where Google was ruled to be an illegal monopolist:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/08/07/revealed-preferences/#extinguish-v-improve

Kanter's work is both extraordinary and par for the course. As Kanter said in a recent keynote for the Fordham Law Competition Law Institute’s 51st Annual Conference on International Antitrust Law and Policy, we're witnessing an epochal, global resurgence of antitrust:

https://www.justice.gov/opa/speech/assistant-attorney-general-jonathan-kanter-delivers-remarks-fordham-competition-law-0

Kanter's incredible enforcement track record isn't just part of a national trend – his colleagues in the FTC, CFPB and other agencies have also been pursuing an antitrust agenda not seen in generations – but also a worldwide trend. Antitrust enforcers in Canada, the UK, the EU, South Korea, Australia, Japan and even China are all taking aim at smashing corporate monopolies. Not only are they racking up impressive victories against these giant corporations, they're stealing the companies' swagger. After all, the point of enforcement isn't just to punish wrongdoing, but also to deter wrongdoing by others.

Until recently, companies hurled themselves into illegal schemes (mergers, predatory pricing, tying, refusals to deal, etc) without fear or hesitation. Now, many of these habitual offenders are breaking the habit, giving up before they've even tried. Take Wiz, a startup that turned down Google's record-shattering $23b buyout offer, understanding that the attempt would draw more antitrust scrutiny than it was worth:

https://finance.yahoo.com/news/wiz-turns-down-23-billion-022926296.html

As welcome as this antitrust renaissance is, it prompts an important question: why didn't we enforce antitrust law for the 40 years between Reagan and Biden?

That's what Kanter addresses the majority of his remarks to. The short answer is: crooked academic economists took bribes from monopolists and would-be monopolists to falsify their research on the impacts of monopolists, and made millions (literally – one guy made over $100m at this) testifying that monopolies were good and efficient.

After all, governments aren't just there to enforce rules – they have to make the rules first, and do to that, they need to understand how the world works, so they can understand how to fix the places where it's broken. That's where experts come in, filling regulators' dockets and juries' ears with truthful, factual testimony about their research. Experts can still be wrong, of course, but when the system works well, they're only wrong by accident.

The system doesn't work well. Back in the 1950s, the tobacco industry was threatened by the growing scientific consensus that smoking caused cancer. Industry scientists confirmed this finding. In response, the industry paid statisticians, doctors and scientists to produce deceptive research reports and testimony about the tobacco/cancer link.

The point of this work wasn't necessarily to convince people that tobacco was safe – rather, it was to create the sense that the safety of tobacco was a fundamentally unanswerable question. "Experts disagree," and you're not qualified to figure out who's right and who's wrong, so just stop trying to figure it out and light up.

In other words, Big Tobacco's cancer denial playbook wasn't so much an attack on "the truth" as it was an attack on epistemology – the system by which we figure out what is true and what isn't. The tactic was devastatingly effective. Not only did it allow the tobacco giants to kill millions of people with impunity, it allowed them to reap billions of dollars by doing so.

Since then, epistemology has been under sustained assault. By the 1970s, Big Oil knew that its products would render the Earth unfit for human habitation, and they hired the same companies that had abetted Big Tobacco's mass murder to provide cover for their own slow-motion, planetary scale killing spree.

Time and again, big business has used assaults on epistemology to provide cover for unthinkable crimes. This has given rise to today's epistemological crisis, in which we don't merely disagree about what is true, but (far more importantly) disagree about how the truth can be known:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/03/25/black-boxes/#when-you-know-you-know

Ask a conspiratorialist why they believe in Qanon or Hatians in Springfield eating pets, and you'll get an extremely vibes-based answer – fundamentally, they believe it because it feels true. As the old saying goes, you can't reason someone out of a belief they didn't reason their way into.

This assault on reason itself is at the core of Kanter's critique. He starts off by listing three cases in which academic economists allowed themselves to be corrupted by the monopolies they studied:

George Mason University tricked an international antitrust enforcer into attending a training seminar that they believed to be affiliated with the US government. It was actually sponsored by the very companies that enforcer was scrutnizing, and featured a parade of "experts" who asserted that these companies were great, actually.

An academic from GMU – which receives substantial tech industry funding – signed an amicus brief opposing an enforcement action against their funders. The academic also presented a defense of these funders to the OECD, all while posing as a neutral academic and not disclosing their funding sources.

An ex-GMU economist, Joshua Wright, submitted a study defending Qualcomm against the FTC, without disclosing that he'd been paid to do so. Wright has elevated undisclosed conflicts of interest to an art form:

https://www.wsj.com/us-news/law/google-lawyer-secret-weapon-joshua-wright-c98d5a31

Kanter is at pains to point out that these three examples aren't exceptional. The economics profession – whose core tenet is "incentive matter" – has made it standard practice for individual researchers and their academic institutions to take massive sums from giant corporations. Incredibly, they insist that this has nothing to do with their support of monopolies as "efficient."

Academic centers often serve as money-laundries for monopolist funders; researchers can evade disclosure requirements when they publish in journals or testify in court, saying only that they work for some esteemed university, without noting that the university is utterly dependent on money from the companies they're defending.

Now, Kanter is a lawyer, not an academic, and that means that his job is to advocate for positions, and he's at pains to say that he's got nothing but respect for ideological advocacy. What he's objecting to is partisan advocacy dressed up as impartial expertise.

For Kanter, mixing advocacy with expertise doesn't create expert advocacy – it obliterates expertise, as least when it comes to making good policy. This mixing has created a "crisis of expertise…a pervasive breakdown in the distinction between expertise and advocacy in competition policy."

The point of an independent academia, enshrined in the American Association of University Professors' charter, is to "advance knowledge by the unrestricted research and unfettered discussion of impartial investigators." We need an independent academy, because "to be of use to the legislator or the administrator, [an academic] must enjoy their complete confidence in the disinterestedness of [his or her] conclusions."

It's hard to overstate just how much money economists can make by defending monopolies. Writing for The American Prospect, Robert Kuttner gives the rate at $1,000/hour. Monopoly's top defenders make unimaginable sums, like U Chicago's Dennis Carlton, who's brought in over $100m in consulting fees:

https://prospect.org/economy/2024-09-24-economists-as-apologists/

The hidden cost of all of this is epistemological consensus. As Tim Harford writes in his 2021 book The Data Detective, the truth can be known through research and peer-review:

https://pluralistic.net/2021/01/04/how-to-truth/#harford

But when experts deliberately seek to undermine the idea of expertise, they cast laypeople into an epistemological void. We know these questions are important, but we can't trust our corrupted expert institutions. That leaves us with urgent questions – and no answers. That's a terrifying state to be in, and it makes you easy pickings for authoritarian grifters and conspiratorial swindlers.

Seen in this light, Kanter's antitrust work is even more important. In attacking corporate power itself, he is going after the machine that funds this nihilism-inducing corruption machine.

This week, Tor Books published SPILL, a new, free LITTLE BROTHER novella about oil pipelines and indigenous landback!

If you'd like an essay-formatted version of this post to read or share, here's a link to it on pluralistic.net, my surveillance-free, ad-free, tracker-free blog:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/09/25/epistemological-chaos/#incentives-matter

Image: Ron Cogswell (modified) https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/File:George.Mason.University.Arlington.Campus.jpg

CC BY 2.0 https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/2.0/

[justlemmeadoreyou]

1. prepping (restaurant owner!harry x chef!y/n)

summary: you landed your dream job as a line cook at harry styles' prestigious haus kitchen restaurant in chicago. the tough chef job demands focus, but it's really hard when your boss looks like harry styles.

words: 4.3k

warnings: nothing major in this one

Your palms were sweating as you gripped the steering wheel, driving through downtown Chicago towards your new job. You kept glancing down at the address on the printed directions, double checking that you were heading the right way. The last thing you wanted was to be late on your first day.

Ever since getting your culinary degree, you had applied to what felt like hundreds of restaurant jobs, desperate to get your foot in the door of a real professional kitchen. But very few places wanted to hire someone so fresh out of school with no actual experience. 

Finally, after months of dead ends, you had landed a line cook position at Haus Kitchen - one of the hottest farm-to-table restaurants in the city. You could scarcely believe your luck when you got the call saying you were hired.

Haus was the brainchild of Harry Styles, international superstar singer turned chef. After his chart-topping solo music career, Harry had traded in artist life to pursue his lifelong passion for cooking. Using his accumulated wealth, he opened up Haus five years ago to rave reviews, quickly earning a well deserved Michelin star.

You vividly remembered watching Harry's transition from a pop idol to dashing culinary entrepreneur play out in the media. As a teenage girl, you had been obsessed with him during his One Direction days.

Your bedroom walls were plastered with Harry's posters and you had relentlessly played their songs, sighing over his tousled hair and pouty lips. Then as you got older and Harry went solo, your boyband crush evolved into more of an intense celebrity infatuation as he cultivated a cool, rebellious image.

There were countless gossipy blind items about his infamous hellraising, flings with models and socialites, and run-ins with the law. You had followed all the scandalous Harry headlines with rapt attention - from getting papped stumbling out of nightclubs with an endless parade of beautiful women to getting arrested for drug possession outside Soho clubs. 

But finally in his late 20s, seemingly bored of rockstar debauchery, Harry had pivoted to reset his image as a knowledgeable culinary entrepreneur. You admired how he transformed from tabloid bad boy into a refined, successful businessman and chef.

He began studying haute cuisine under the tutelage of famous European chefs, traveling abroad to hone his skills further. While continuing to record new musical projects independently, Harry started establishing himself in the culinary world through guest stints on TV cooking shows and food/wine events.

With his brooding good looks, charming personality, and serious culinary chops, the world fell for Harry's new sophisticated image. Before long, he was the subject of breathless puff pieces in food magazines as "the sexiest Renaissance man in the kitchen." It seemed natural when Harry soon opened up his passion project Haus to capitalize on his popularity and love of food.

Now nearing your mid-20s, your teenage fannish obsession had cooled into more of an admiring celebrity crush. You had stayed aware of Harry's journey, but your priorities were focused on graduating culinary school at the top of your class and finding your own big break in the Chicago restaurant scene.

So when you landed a job at Harry's iconic Haus, it almost didn't feel real. Not only would you be working at one of the city's most exclusive spots, but under the same roof as a chef you had admired for ages.

Not that you expected to have any real personal contact with Harry himself, you reminded yourself as you merged onto the exit for downtown. He was an internationally famous mega-celebrity who had to have hundreds of staffers, not to mention being handsomely paid to just be the smiling face of the business while professional kitchen vets like Paul Thomason handled the day-to-day operations.

Still, you had to admit to yourself that a tiny part of you tingled at the mere idea of being in the same building as Harry Styles...hopefully catching a glimpse of that handsome, endlessly charming man in the flesh...

You shook your head dismissively and double checked the directions again, annoyed at getting so easily distracted. This was your big break, your first serious job in the industry. You needed to bring your A-game and focus, not dwell on silly celebrity daydreams.

It was your fantasies of becoming a respected chef that needed to take priority.

You pulled into the parking lot for the restaurant, double checking that you had the address right. The sleek, modern building had a neon "Haus Kitchen" sign glowing over opulent double-door entrances flanked by velvet ropes and cheerful outdoor seating areas.

Taking a steadying breath, you cut the engine and sat for a moment, giving yourself a pep talk. This was it. No more messing around doing coursework or labs - this was the major leagues with all the intensity of a real professional kitchen. You had to bring it all day, every day.

As you climbed out of your beat-up Honda, you smoothed down your spotless new chef's whites, making sure everything looked pressed and presentable. With your knife kit tucked under your arm, you walked towards the entrance with purpose, chin held high.

From the moment you stepped through the doors, it was like being transported into another world. The smell of simmering sauces, roasting meats, and freshly baked bread envaded your senses. Even hours before opening, the energy and hustle for dinner prep was palpable.

Off to the left was the main dining room you had studied photos of online - effortlessly cool with vaulted exposed wooden beam ceilings, brick accents, and casually modern decor. Pendant lighting glowed cozily over tables draped in white linens and rustic chandeliers hung over plush tufted leather banquettes. A lively bar area centered the space, stocked with top-shelf liquors and backed by a dazzling display of custom glassware.

In the distance ahead, you could hear the clamoring of the kitchen in full swing. Your stomach did a nervous flip - this was it. Taking another fortifying breath, you headed through the archway.

You emerged into a large, sleek open kitchen layout, all stainless steel and butcher block islands. Uniformed cooks were buzzing at their stations like a well-oiled machine under the barked commands of an older, stocky man you immediately recognized as Head Chef Paul Thomason.

Despite his gruff reputation, watching Thomason in action was nothing short of mesmerizing. He moved between stations with the easy grace of a conductor, sampling sauces, tweaking seasonings, and directing the workflow with gruff orders. There was no wasted movement or micro-expression as he continually tasted and perfected dishes, alternating between thoughtful contemplation and decisive action.

Though you had only seen Thomason in pictures and television appearances, his fierce focus and mastery were unmistakable. This was what true professional kitchen expertise looked like in the flesh.

Feeling like a mouse that had wandered into the lair of a lion, you hovered near the entrance, uncertain of what to do next. The kitchen team flowed around you in a choreographed dance, deftly ignoring your presence as they prepped and plated flawlessly.

After a few minutes of anxious loitering, the intimidating Thomason seemed to finally notice you. His grizzled features contorted as he scowled, looking you up and down through eyes squinted with decades of kitchen smoke exposure.

"You must be the new kid," he said gruffly, crossing his bulky tattooed arms over his broad chest. Even without raising his voice, Thomason had a rumbling bass that easily carried over the kitchen's clanging din. "Christ, you're shorter than I expected. Think you've got what it takes to keep up around here?"

You nervously clutched your knife kit closer while trying to not look as flustered as you felt. "Y-yes, chef!" 

You swallowed hard, hyper aware of everyone around you now watching the interaction. "I, uh...I came ready to work as hard as it takes. Whatever you need from me."

Thomason grunted, squinting at you for another long moment in consideration. Then he jerked his head towards the back. "Get changed out quick and meet me back here in 5. I'll get you started on prep and we'll see what you're made of. Don't keep me waiting."

"Yes, chef!" you responded immediately, wincing at how high your voice had gone up an octave.

Without another word, Thomason turned and strode back into the controlled chaos of the line, immediately redirecting his attention to sauces and garnishes. Letting out a shaky breath, you scurried towards the changing rooms, heart jackhammering.

Well, you were officially in the thick of things now...

You hustled back out to the kitchen, trying not to look frazzled from your rushed change. A young Hispanic line cook spotted you and waved you over to his station.

"You the newbie?" he asked, not unkindly. When you nodded, he jerked his head towards the walk-in refrigerator. "Thomason wants you to start by breaking down some of the produce delivery for prep."

"Got it, thanks," you replied, eager to prove yourself. The line cook gestured you through the door into the immense chilled walk-in.

You blinked as your eyes adjusted to the cold, taking in the sights and smells of the impressive stockpile. Shelves upon shelves were stocked with an array of fresh seasonal produce - crates bursting with leafy greens, bushels of root vegetables, flats of vibrantly colored tomatoes, exotic fruits, and mushroom varieties you had only read about.  

Your culinary school had humble basics for ingredients, nothing like the bounty of locally-sourced, meticulously selected provisions that Haus Kitchen demanded. You felt a thrill at getting to work with such an extraordinary pantry.

Respirating clouds puffed from your mouth as you scanned the inventory tagging system. You had been taught similar protocols in your food safety courses, but there was something exhilarating about putting that knowledge into practice in a real professional environment.

Grabbing a stack of plastic totes, you made a game plan for which items to start prepping first based on perishability levels and what would be needed for that evening's specials. Though you started out slow at first, you steadily built up a cadence of meticulously cleaning, trimming, and sorting into appropriate storage containers.  

By the time Thomason stuck his head in to check on you an hour later, you had developed an efficient system and made solid progress through a mountain of deliveries.

The head chef grunted in approval as he inspected your neat stacks of prepped produce, crossing his arms as he looked you up and down with a critical eye.

"Not bad, kid," he rumbled. "Clearly know which end of a knife to use, at least. C'mon back out, got some protein fabrication for you to tackle next."

You diligently followed Thomason back out to the main kitchen, wiping some sweat from your brow with your sleeve. Despite the industrial cooling system, the heat blazing from the ovens and range tops made the open kitchen feel like a furnace.

As Thomason led you to a stainless steel butcher's block island, you couldn't help but gawk at the array of gleaming knives hanging from magnetic strips overhead. The blades were works of art - sleek, razor sharp, and clearly extremely expensive.

Gesturing you over, Thomason grabbed a boning knife and twirled it deftly before handing it to you. "Let's see how you handle breaking this down."

He gave the block a solid smack with his meaty palm, indicating for you to get started on the glistening slab of beef tenderloin before you. Taking a steadying breath, you gripped the bone-handled knife firmly and leaned over the cutting board.

"Yes chef," you murmured before carefully piercing the thick cut of meat, angling the blade with practiced precision from all your training.

Around you, the kitchen bustled with the usual rattling pans, sizzling ranges, and Thomason's occasional barked orders. But as you fell into the rhythm of deftly separating fat and sinew, the noises began to fade from your awareness.  

You were completely focused on your knife work, confidently sawing through the tender flesh as you reduced the tenderloin down to portions and trimmings for other stations to further break down. It was meditative, almost hypnotic, the way you instinctively slid the blade along rendered paths of butchery.

After your initial intimidation of the intense Haus environment, you started to find your groove and calm amidst the choreographed insanity surrounding you. You were so laser-focused on the satisfaction of properly executing each slicing technique that the rest of the kitchen chaos became mere white noise.

You had no idea how long you stayed absorbed in the butchery, but eventually you became aware of a presence at your elbow. Glancing up, you nearly jumped to see Harry Styles watching you work with an unreadable expression, hands shoved into the pockets of his slim-fitting slacks.

His dress shirt was rolled up to his elbows and the fitted cotton fabric clung to his toned arms and chest, a few chest hairs peeking out of his slightly undone top button. A single necklace rested in the divot between his sculpted collarbones, drawing your eye to the alluring hollow of his throat as he swallowed hard.

You froze mid-slice, mesmerized by watching the tendons in Harry's wrist and forearm flex as his hands flexed restlessly in his trouser pockets. After a beat, his pillowy lips curved into an easy smile, crinkling the delicate crow's feet at the corners of his kaleidoscope green eyes.

"Afternoon," Harry said in that lazy, husky drawl that used to make millions of fans swoon. He flicked his eyes down to your handiwork before bringing them back up to your face. "Looking good there, newbie."

You blinked, not trusting your ears for a moment before realizing with a jolt that Harry was very much real and quite close. Like, unnecessarily close for your over-stimulated brain to handle.

"Uh...I-I, um...th-thank you?" you croaked out, wanting to cringe at how lame you sounded. Get it together, this wasn't the time to geek out–you instructed yourself.

But Harry didn't seem to notice your fumbling, simply giving you a dimpled half-smile before reaching around you to snag a stray piece of trimming from the butcher's block. He inspected it contemplatively before popping it into his mouth, those plump lips wrapping obscenely around the bite as he chewed and ruminated with relish.

"Perfection," he declared after swallowing, shooting you another crooked grin like you were co-conspirators sharing an inside joke. With a subtle wink, Harry pivoted on his boot heel and sauntered off, whistling a jaunty tune.

As he retreated, you risked a glance down at his form-fitting trousers shamelessly admiring the way the fine fabric cupped the ample curves of his pert backside. Even at his age, Harry Styles had the muscle-toned body of a man decades younger - long, lean muscles taut under golden tanned skin.

You blinked hard and shook your head, annoyed at catching yourself ogling your new boss like a drooling fangirl. Pull it together! This was totally inappropriate and unprofessional. You had zero business daydreaming about someone who gave you your paycheck, no matter how obscenely famous and heartthrob-ishly handsome they were.

Firmly re-focusing on your knife work, you determinedly put Harry from your mind and tried to re-immerse yourself in the rhythm and refuge of the butchery. But the memory of his distractingly lush mouth so close kept replaying over and over, preventing you from recapturing your previous sense of meditative flow. 

Dammit, you needed to get a grip! This kind of inappropriate crush on your employer was exactly the kind of silly, immature behavior that would make you look like a unprofessional joke in a serious kitchen environment. Blowing an opportunity like this was not an option.

Later, as you untied your apron strings and joined the team in breaking down the last stations for cleaning at closing, Thomason sidled up alongside you. You braced yourself for more of his typical gruff rebukes or criticisms.

Instead, the veteran chef simply gave you a long, considered look before saying gruffly, "You did good work today, kid. I can already tell you got the stuff to handle it around here if you keep your head down."

You blinked up at him in surprise before managing a small smile. "Thank you, chef. I really appreciate that."

Thomason grunted noncommittally before wandering off, likely to oversee something else. As you tidied your workstation, you couldn't help feeling a small glow of pride. Despite the craziness of your first day, you had seemingly passed this initial trial with flying colors.

As you left through the back entrance into the quiet night air, you took a deep breath and allowed yourself a satisfied smile. Maybe, just maybe, you really did have what it took to succeed in this highly competitive environment after all. For tonight at least, you had handled the punishing pace and standards. Tomorrow was another day to prove yourself all over again.

***

Your day started before sunrise the next morning, brewing a strong coffee and reviewing the notes you had taken the previous evening about which menu items needed prepping. By the time you arrived at Haus, reinvigorated by the crisp morning air, the kitchen was already a hive of activity in preparation for lunch service. 

The intense scrutiny under which you worked only amplified with the daylight. Every slice, every sauté was carried out under the watchful eyes of Chef Thomason and his steely gaze. More than once, you felt his presence looming over your shoulder, inspecting your work with the same critical eye as a diamond cutter examining a flawless gem.

"This slice is uneven," he barked, startling you. You flinched, resisting the urge to make excuses as he continued, "The portions all need to be identical for plating. Paying attention to details like that is the difference between a sloppy meal and a stellar one. Don't let it happen again."

"Yes, chef," you replied tightly, making a minor adjustment to your knife work. Though his words stung, you had to admit Thomason was completely right. In a restaurant of this caliber, any minor imperfection could spell disaster.  

You redoubled your efforts, pouring all of your concentration into each preparation, each plate. By the time the end of your shift rolled around, you were drenched in sweat, your feet screaming from being on them for 12 hours straight. But you had successfully made it through day two without any major mishaps.

As the whirlwind of dinner service finally calmed to a stopping point, you stood in the kitchen obediently waiting for Thomason's inspection and inevitable critique. But to your surprise, he merely gave a curt nod of approval before waving you off.

"Not bad, newbie," he grunted. "Get a good night's rest. We'll need you back bright and early tomorrow."

Those few gruff words of acceptance warmed you more than any high praise could have. For Thomason, a man of very few words, his small nod seemed to indicate you were, for the moment, living up to his exceedingly high standards.

The high from that small victory buoyed your spirits as you made your way towards the back exit, already dreaming of the few hours of sleep you might be able to grab before starting the cycle over again. You were so wrapped up in your thoughts that you nearly bowled someone over coming around a corner.

"Whoa there!"  

You froze, looking up into the grinning, mirthful eyes of Harry Styles himself. Up close, the force of his charm and magnetism practically crackled in the air around him like a physical force. His sweater clung distractingly to his lithe, muscular frame and his chestnut hair was casually tousled. A pair of small diamond studs glinted in each ear.

"Sorry about that, H-Harry," you stammered, resisting the urge to take a flustered step back. You were vividly aware of just how little physical space separated the two of you. "I wasn't watching where I was going."

If he noticed your frazzled state up close, Harry didn't let on. His pink lips merely curved in an easy, dimpled smile. "No need to apologize. I don't usually make a habit of lurking around blind corners, to be fair."

You laughed before you could stop yourself, surprised at how easily he was putting you at ease despite your elevated heart rate. Up close, Harry's eyes weren't just green - an entire kaleidoscope of colors ranging from jade to emerald to amber seemed to shift and dance in his gaze. It was...dazzling, frankly.

Clearing your throat, you forced yourself to take a subtle step backwards, putting a more professional amount of space between the two of you. The last thing you needed was to do something wildly inappropriate that would get you fired before the end of your first week.

"Still, I should have been paying better attention to my surroundings," you replied, aiming for a respectful, levelheaded tone. "It's been a really intense couple of days just trying to stay on top of everything."

Harry nodded in understanding, arching one perfectly sculpted brow. "Thomason hasn't let up on you at all, I take it?" 

When you shook your head ruefully, he chuckled. "I know that seems like his permanent state - gruff, perpetually unsatisfied, and grumpy as a hibernating bear. But honestly, the fact that he hasn't fired you already is a good sign you're doing well."

You blinked at him in surprise. "Wait...really? But he critiques everything! I feel like I've gotten nothing but corrections so far."

"Exactly." Harry's dimples flashed as he grinned. "That's how you know he sees potential in you. If Thomason didn't think you had what it took, he wouldn't waste his breath giving feedback. He'd just cut you loose and hire someone else to start over."

His words were like a soothing balm on the anxiety and self-doubt you'd been carrying around for the past couple of days. You hadn't realized that Thomason's critical approach was actually a twisted form of acceptance and mentorship. The revelation caused the hard knot of tension between your shoulder blades to finally release.

"Huh," you exhaled, unable to stop the small smile tugging at your lips as you finally understood Thomason's tough love. "I guess I should take that as a compliment then."

"Absolutely," Harry agreed with an approving nod. Then his expression softened around the edges, growing earnest as his gaze searched yours. "Look, I know it's a huge adjustment and the pace here can be absolutely brutal starting out. But for what it's worth...I think you've got what it takes to be something really special in this kitchen."

You felt yourself flush at his unexpected praise, your stomach fluttering with a swarm of nervous butterflies. Harry held your eyes for a lingering moment before seeming to mentally collect himself.

Clearing his throat, he flashed you one more crooked grin. "But don't take my word for it - the proof will be in your work. Stay focused and trust the process. I've got faith you can handle it."

With that, he brushed past you, his shoulder grazing yours in a way that made your entire body buzz with friction. As Harry sauntered off down the hallway, you couldn't stop yourself from turning to watch his retreating form - the easy, rolling gait, the tantalizing sway of his hips below the slim cut of his trousers, the tousled waves of his chestnut hair.

You let out a shaky exhale, feeling off-balance and electrified all at once. Get a grip, you scolded yourself firmly. That was your boss - your incredibly famous, wealthy, and wildly attractive boss. Daydreaming was a one-way ticket to catching inappropriate feelings and potentially torpedoing your entire career before it even started.

And yet...you couldn't quite silence the part of your brain reliving Harry's velvet tone and intense eye contact as he professed having faith in your abilities. Just the casual warmth of his voice and proximity had set your heart pounding in a way it hadn't since you were a hormonal teenager, utterly dazzled by his rock star persona.

Shaking your head, you forced yourself to turn on your heel and head for the exit. Overthinking could only lead to dangerous territory. You needed to stay laser-focused on your work - that was the only way to succeed at Haus and make your culinary dreams a reality.

As you stepped out into the fresh evening air, you paused for a moment on the deserted back stoop, closing your eyes and taking a few centering breaths. When you opened them again, you felt the last fluttering tendrils of Harry's heated presence dissipate, replaced by a familiar sense of determined calm.

This job was your priority now, not silly schoolgirl crushes or indulging fantasies about your wildly unattainable boss. You knew better than to get distracted by daydreams that could only lead to self-sabotage. 

With a decisive nod, you strode towards your car with renewed focus. You would prove yourself at Haus through your skills and work ethic alone. No other agenda, no unprofessional entanglements allowed. 

Your passion was cuisine, creating nourishing dishes that delighted - that had to remain your sole priority. You couldn't afford any distractions from that lest you squander this incredible opportunity. Steadying your breathing, you looked forward with fresh clarity and resolve.

Tomorrow was a new day to earn your place in Harry's formidable kitchen. And this time, you vowed, you were utterly prepared to meet the challenge with your complete and undivided focus.

♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡

tell me if you like this! this is an idea for a new series that will probably have 6 parts??? i guess. but do tell me if you like it! because there's no use in writing when nobody reads 😭😭

feedback | masterlist

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[bekaterrier]

A few other wonderful shows I wanted to shoutout for BIPOCtober, with BIPOC creators and/or leads:

A Ninth World Journal: Based on Numenera, a tabletop roleplaying game, and written, produced and performed by David S. Dear (plus guests). Set one billion years in the future… it’s the story of Januae, a man who randomly teleports to strange and dangerous places with no way of controlling it.

@meteorcitypod: In 2008, a freak meteor shower hit Detroit, killing hundreds and displacing thousands. Hundreds of people were quarantined for radiation exposure. 10 years later, Bianca Diaz, a vlogger returns to tell the stories of the dead, the missing, and the remaining citizens of Detroit, now called Meteor City. Shortly after returning, Bianca realizes that Meteor City, New Detroit, and the people left behind are not what they appear to be...

@witcheverpath: An interactive horror anthology podcast. Their current story is Message in a Bottle. A siren misses what was taken from her, but as she swims out to sea, she discovers a bottle that may change the course of her life.

@radio-outcast: A fantasy-western audio drama. When Helix, the Messenger God of Sound, gets yanked from the 1980s and sent to the 1880s by her abusive ex-lover, the God of Time, she must forge unlikely alliances with two humans: Jesse, a cowboy out for revenge, and Charles, a conman running from his past. The three of them embark on a journey across the American West, each with their own goals and secrets waiting to be revealed

@vegapodcast: A Sci-Fi Adventure Podcast!: In a fantasy futuristic world, Vega Rex is employed by her government to kill off the world's worst criminals. She's never met a criminal she couldn't catch...until now. Join Vega as she journeys through a world of bumbling apprentices, powerful technogods, and her biggest challenge yet

@noadventurespod: A fantasy (un)adventure story that follows Sig, the owner of Signature Eats bakery, as he aggressively avoids becoming embroiled in any daring quests or chosen one shenanigans even though the universe really seems to want him to do just that. This is a story about cutting the Hero’s Journey off at the knees to chill with friends. And also baking. This is also a story about baking.

Harlem Queen: A Black historical fiction audio drama based on the life and times of Black, woman, gangster "Numbers Queen" Madame Stephanie St. Clair during the Harlem Renaissance (the story takes place around 1926-32). She fought the "big boys" (Lucky Luciano and Dutch Schultz) and won.

@herebedragonspod: When the body of a previously unknown aquatic creature washes up on shore, four women are called together for the expedition of a lifetime. Tasked by the U.S. Government to find and record evidence of this new breed of sea monster, Harper Bennett, Pippa Cambell, Lt. Commander Adrienne Scarlett and Dr. Natalya Atlas set off into the untamed wilds of The Bermuda Triangle.

@unwellpodcast: A Midwestern Gothic Mystery. Lillian Harper moves to the small town of Mt. Absalom, Ohio, to care for her estranged mother Dorothy after an injury. Living in the town's boarding house which has been run by her family for generations, she discovers conspiracies, ghosts, and a new family in the house's strange assortment of residents.

Fan Wars: The Empire Claps Back: A not-so-romantic comedy about two star wars fans on opposite sides of the Last Jedi debate.

[boywonderloverr]

Spencer Reid headcanons bc im bored

(some of these might be implied canon or close to canon but idk im just hyperfocused on reid and i gotta yap about him)

☕🕊️

- he gets cold very easily, always wearing lots of layers

-he cuts his own hair because he doesn't like hairdressers. sometimes he enlists garcia or jj to help

-he is prone to trying to mask his autistic traits but over time, with encouragement and support from the team, gets more comfortable with unmasking

-plant dad

-excessive emoji user

-he is a big light hater!!! he will never use the big light

-he plays the piano and the violin. he can read sheet music of course, but he likes to learn by ear

-garcia buys him a fidget toy one day and he loves it. one fidget toy soon becomes a collection

-also fidgets with his friends' hands and hair

-eidetic memory + echolalia/vocal stimming = recieting random excerpts from random books/writings/movies/recordings etc. over and over

-he has ibs. he's a tummyache AND headache girl

-endless collection of funky socks (canon!)

-he has a tic disorder or tourettes. most of his tics are motor tics in his face. scrunching/raising his eyebrows, pursing his lips, blinking tics, clicking his tongue, head turning/jerking, things like that

-one of those people who didn't know colonel was pronounced 'kernel' until he was an adult because he'd only ever read the world before

-he knows how to sew

-derek calls garcia babygirl. garcia calls spencer babygirl. mostly to confuse rossi

- "i know a guy."

-scared of birds but pretends he isn't

-forces anyone on the bau he can to go to renaissance festivals with him and talks about historical inaccuracies the whole time

-he doesn't own a hairbrush or comb he just uses his fingers

[celebduwen]

If I remember correctly from my music history class it was because of fashion.

We see falalalalala used a lot in older music. (ex. Now is the month of Maying (from 1595). And in the renaissance it was all about ancient Rome and Greece and stuff, a rebirth of that stuff. (They had little clue). So Italian was on the fashion, falalalala was because it sounded Italian.

Tl.dr

Music fashion in the 14th and 15th centuries was like, Italy is cool. We see the repercussions today.

can any cunning linguists out there explain in technical terms I won't understand why "la la la" is the default singing filler instead of "na na na" or "ba ba ba" or for that matter "wo wo wo" or whatever? like is the ahh an open vowel or something that makes it easier to project more sound? does luh relax the mouth in a way that buh or muh do not? how culturally specific is singing filler anyway??

[marcelskittels]

"Hi guys, After in my bedroom for the last 30 minutes trying to record a video message for you, but I can't speak the words I want to tell you without falling into tears. So that's why I'm doing it this way. I'm incredibly proud on your successes of course but also on the resilience you showed after every setback. To Wout & Jonas. When I saw you on tv crying from the pain on the side of the road, I wanted to switch places. I would have taken your injuries if that were possible, just so you could go on chasing your goals and chasing your ambitions like we did together over the past years. I'm still trying to accept the fact that I had to retire. And Jonas & Wout, I don't think you realise how big of an impact you have on this process. You guys give me so much energy when I see videos from you back on the bike, recovering, getting better, improving and chasing your goals. You are able to realize the most remarkable things together as a team. Side by side. Now I'll be there this summer on the side of the road in France. I will always be on your side.

I'll see you soon, stay healthy. Big hug Nathan."

🎥 A TRUE RENAISSANCE: Our Tour de France 2024 - Inside the Beehive

[bluemirrorangel]

Dps headcanons the poets and their type of academia aesthetic 

This is wayyyy longer than I intended it to be lol anyway I hope you enjoy these, leave a ship or fandom suggestions and I’ll do headcanons for them if you want :) 

Todd:darkest Academia

Loves gothic fiction and horror stories because he likes being nervous knowing that he's supposed to be.

Likes reading outside at night because it’s quiet 

Surprisingly nosey, not in a bad way he’s just really curious about stuff.

Likes dark/muted colours.

His favourite book is a picture of Dorian grey.

Weirdly into cryptids and other mysteries.

Was TERRIFIED of the Bermuda triangle as a kid.

Loves writing poetry but enjoys writing in general.

Semi popular writer on AO3 for classical literature, started because Keating told him to publicise  some of creative writing.

Runs his good reads account like the navy.

Charlie:chaotic academia

Regularly gets uniform carded for everything; shirt unbuttoned and untucked, tie loosened, he never has his blazer on and his jumper is perpetually tied around his waist. 

Has a mason jar type cup on his nightstand that is always full of a mixture of different energy drinks and fizzy drinks/soda’s, Cameron says it looks like paint water.

Banned from reading out loud in English class pre-Keating because he got a little too into the role of Jack in Lord of the Flies .

Point blank refuses to do P.E and is always ‘losing’ his kit.

Shockingly serious about music class, deeply respects the teacher and never misses a lesson.

Post stick notes EVERYWHERE

Writes his notes in highlighter and felt tips

Went through a phase of bringing a flask to school instead of a water bottle because he thought it looked cool.

Spark notes BIGGEST FAN.

A saxophone prodigy despite being unable to read sheet music.

Neil:light academia

Loves Shakespeare and the theatre in general

Good grades in every class but really shines when it comes to the arts

Eats his lunch in the English classroom with the other poets

Forges his fathers signature for school trips so much half his teachers have no idea what his dads handwriting actually looks like.

Hates biology because he’s scared of blood

Always says that Todd is his favourite author/poet.

Really good memory, able to learn lines at shocking speeds. 

Finds it difficult to multitask; has to have instrumental music playing otherwise he gets distracted.

Prefers plays over books.

Collects playbills.

Meeks:classic academia 

Loves typewriters, inherited one from his grandparents and uses it alllll the time.

has a polaroid camera and uses it to take either the best candid's or the  most diabolical mugs there's no in-between.

Owns a shocking amount of sweater vests.

Has a record collection.

Loves those retro 50’s themed diners/drive-ins, drags Pitts and the poets to those all the time.

Really into history

Owns an analogue radio.

Taught himself Latin one summer to impress Pitts, and is now fluent.

His entire wardrobe is vintage themed.

Favourite book is the Outsiders by S.E Hinton.

Knox:romantic academia

Writes love letters and poetry whenever he has a crush on someone, used to keep them under his bed but swiftly changed that hiding place after watching ‘to all the boys I've loved before.’ with his sister, they now live in a shoebox on his trophy/bookshelf.

Loves the romantics big fan of love poetry as a whole.

Has definitely tried to serenade someone before.

 Self taught guitarist.

Has only ever received on card on Valentines Day, it was from Charlie in year nine it’s one of Knox’s most prized possessions.

Loves Romeo and Juliet.

Thinks ‘say anything’ is the height of romance 

Subconsciously wants to be romanced for once instead of the other way round. 

 Has Pinterest boards dedicated to romantic quotes 

His favourite movie is the princess bride.

pitts:’nerdy’ Academia 

really into the roman empire 

Loves renaissance fairs and goes every year.

REALLY into dungeons and dragons.

Loves going to random museum exhibits.

Spent half his childhood hyper fixated on the Titanic, was super excited to watch the movie and completely heartbroken when he realised it was a fictional story and not a documentary.

Brilliant at chess.

Knows random historical facts.

Horrible at remembering faces but never forgets a name.

Loves mythology of all kinds.

Really good at architecture; his middle school used to have a architecture competition where  you had 2 minutes to make a house out of marshmallows and dry spaghetti the most stable one won, Pitts won every year.

Cameron:dark academia 

Keeps his notes/homework in colour coded folders and files

A proper perfectionist and  chronic overachiever.

Writes in pencil or fountain Pen.

the gifted kid who REFUSED to burn out.

Only gets attention at home when he’s doing well at school, so he throws himself into his studies.

Drinks more coffee than water

Can play the piano, was entered in a school concert and his whole family came. He was terrified of embarrassing or disappointing them so he overdid it and played so hard his fingers bled.

Has a copy of every graded test practice or otherwise in his room so he can go over them before his exams.

Hates English with a passion because it’s the one lesson where there are no rules.

Once spent an entire night going over his English notes before a test and was so overtired he fell asleep during the exam and failed it. None of the poets bring it up not even Charlie because that day was the first time he’d seen Cameron cry.

[aturnoftheearth]

like the idea of a supernatural revival or whatever because any of the following outcomes would be a win, either to further my bitterness or bring me peace:

a. likely: they cut cas out completely, forever cementing him as the worst treated character of team free will (don’t bother with any more polls), and this inevitably leads to some funny tweets/posts about how jensen ackles didn’t want to leave cas out !!!! he actually wanted them to gay kiss on tv !!! but Big CW shut him down again >:( even if they’re not on the CW anymore. hashtag they silenced him.

or

b. more likely: they bring cas back but don’t mention destiel at all. misha collins says for $500 USD he’ll get on cameo and give his own headcanon. fans of him fund it in 20 minutes. it’s 37 seconds long and awful and shallow and he says “dean tells cass to ‘get out of his ass’ again” while winking very explicitly and end recording. insert scenario a for the jackles thing here.

or

c. most likely: cas back, love confession addressed. cas is like “dean i assure you that, above all, i value our friendship.” dean politely says “hey man, you’re my best buddy, and i really appreciate you. you know that, right? alright good talk.” and claps his shoulder on his way out of the frame, leaving cas with the sad yet contemplative look. okay that’s all no more addressing anything UNLESS it’s a multi-episode thing, in which case they include some sort of bait. a potentially longing look-back from dean, a disappointed? resigned? look from him after walking away, etc.

and bonus least-likely but best possible scenario:

d. destiel canon. old mutuals return. content creation  renaissance. this website becomes inhabitable. another 3 years of lovesickness on ye.

[lesb0]

I think it's so funny to be a renaissance art historian where European black women were restricted to courtly servant roles at the highest and were completely disregarded in the querelles des femmes so if I want to research women artists I have to exclude black women

But when I do contemporary art, white women are absolutely out of the game. there is a grand total of one 2020s white woman artist big in the market while global asian and black women artists are absolutely killing it and taking over mononym museum shows and shattering auction records right now. black women are just the actual greatest artists working in this current movement.

[maverick-werewolf]

Werewolf Fact #72 - Returning to Human Form

Time for Werewolf Fact #72! Wow, that's a lot. And that's not counting all the books and articles and ask responses and other things I've done over the years. It's been a fun ride.

But for now, let's turn our attention to something a patron pointed out I've never actually discussed... what makes a werewolf return to human form?

I'll be honest: popular culture has taken much more of an interest in laying out the details about returning to the human form than did folklore, overall. In folklore, the act of changing to and from was certainly the centerpiece of the horror, but popular culture and its emphasis on werewolf characters led into a deeper evaluation of such an experience. Folklore also generally discussed the transformation into a monster much more than out of it, at least in more laborious and horrific detail (see Lykaon, Niceros, etc).

We see painful transformations to the werewolf form in folklore quite a bit, as I've discussed before. In fact, the prime example is one of the earliest surviving recorded werewolf legends. And yet even turning into the bestial form was occasionally painless in folklore, involving donning a magic skin or performing a simple ritual to suddenly become a wolf. As for the werewolf returning to the human form, as far as folklore is concerned, that often seems almost or entirely effortless.

Obviously, in popular culture, it's much more common to have the dramatic to or from in either form. I'm personally a big fan of this, as you'd know if you've read any of my fiction (be sure to check that out at my website!), but if you really want to get down and dirty with werewolves being true to folklore, frankly it is overall common for neither transformation to be painful. And certainly it is even less common for the return to human form to be a particularly traumatic or jarring event. That doesn't make for a super dramatic story, though, so we see - especially in past werewolf stories, ones that emphasized horror more - the traumatic tos and froms.

With that out of the way, here are some methods of returning to the human form in folklore...

End of certain timeframe - The most common of triggers to return to the human form, many werewolves will reassume the human form after a certain amount of time has passed. For instance, werewolves in Greek myths like those of Arcadia could return to their human form after seven or ten years, if they hadn't devoured any human flesh. Likewise, other werewolves would return after a certain number of days or even weeks had passed, with or without other circumstances.

At will - There are cases of the werewolf returning to human form at will throughout folklore, or else it is unspecified if there are any other required circumstances or acts.

Removing the magic skin/item - This can vary from being difficult (such as with Sigmund and Sinfjotli) to being as easy as "peeling back the wolf skin," such as in the tale of the werewolves of Ossory. There are many other examples as well, with varying degrees of difficulty or triggers.

Using a salve - In some stories, a salve is rubbed on the body to reassume the human form. This is also the case with assuming the wolf form. This is more common in the Renaissance/Early Modern period, overall, often with Satanic werewolf or even witches-rebranded-as-werewolves-by-modern-scholars, though there are a few cases otherwise.

Putting on your clothes again - In some stories, a werewolf who sheds his clothes turns into the wolf form, and in order to don the human form once more, he must return to his clothing. Sometimes, the clothes turn to stone in the meantime, until he returns to put them back on. Or, such as with Bisclavret, the clothes may be hidden, trapping the werewolf in bestial form.

Curse removal - In some stories, whoever cursed the werewolf must lift the curse in order to return the werewolf to human form. This is the case in tales wherein the werewolf doesn't go back and forth at all but is someone cursed to become a wolf and stay that way until said curse is lifted, less like a traditional werewolf.

Daybreak - Some werewolves returned to the human form at daybreak. While this didn't appear in stories directly very often, it is mentioned in assorted sourcebooks, such as Baring-Gould and Summers discussing werewolves and how "the desire comes upon them at night." It can also be speculated based on events in stories, such as Niceros's Tale, but the circumstances there were never explicitly stated. So this one may be slightly more questionable than the others if you want direct story sources, but I'd say there are plenty of sources around enough to justify it being on this list.

I am not including those funky ones you see all across the internet that weirdos bandy about in their clickbait list articles, like "tossing iron over the werewolf's head" or whatever, because I need a lot more cross-referenced actual examples of those to include them in a list such as this, as opposed to unfounded Google results that D&D players then like to grab and turn into le silleh memes.

Note that this list, as always, doesn't cover every single possibility seen in folklore. I'm not even going to pretend I'm trying to do that here. That will be in the future Werewolf Facts book that I'm publishing in a few years (yes, I am working on that).

And that just about covers the general overview! Hope you enjoyed the post. Be sure to check out the links below. Until next time!

( If you like my blog, be sure to follow me here and elsewhere for more folklore and fiction, including books, especially on werewolves! You can also sign up for my free newsletter for monthly werewolf/vampire/folklore facts, a free story, and book previews.

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