#Burgeon Law

[burgeonlaw]

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[ckret2]

CULT LEADER AT 14 ?? WHY WASN'T EUCLIDEAN CPS CALLED IM CRYING /Rhetorical, but I am genuinely curious. Kids/teens are smarter than people assume and his actions are his own, but he's barely a teenager at this point. Unless there's some law added to the story (which I doubt) the logical conclusion I've come to is that his parents just scared any case workers off lmao. The real CPS has a habit of being useless, especially in cases similar to Bill's, with little (or hidden) physical abuse/neglect. Also you can get them to leave by telling them to. Not ideal.

For the same reason the CPS wasn't called on Gideon for having a burgeoning cultlike fandom over his child psychic routine.

The CPS isn't called in over child performers—child movie stars, child TV actors, child singers. The CPS isn't called in over kid influencers on family vlogger channels with millions of viewers. The CPS isn't called in over child preachers, child healers, child psychics. Even when they really, really should be.

(There's been some high profile criminal cases over child abuse on family vlogs lately—but every story about a family like that being held responsible for abuse is a story about how long they got away with it without anybody doing a thing.)

Bill's parents did spiritually-themed speaking engagements. They started bringing their kid on stage with them—how adorable, a family act!—and he did a cute little child psychic routine, he could go up to strangers and tell them their names, he could tell them what was in their wallets, he knew details about their medical histories—sometimes details THEY didn't know yet. ("congratulations, do you have a name for the baby yet?" "a name for the what?" "whoops! ... do you want me to spoil what shape it'll be?")

What harm is there in a family that does public speaking letting their child join in on the performance? He's talented, popular, seems to be having fun.

They're more successful, they do more shows, he's performing a larger proportion of the shows. Well, sure, of course he is, the audience loves his parts. He's very charismatic. Charming, engaging, enthusiastic. Who would tell him to stop? He's so enthusiastic about participating. He's even started preaching some—very spiritual stuff, the details are a little muddy but hey, he's young, but he's compelling and it's clear he believes this stuff and he's doing such good work spreading hope and positivity to their audience.

He's missing some school to travel for speaking engagements, but hey, he's still doing well enough to make it to the next grade, and when he's clearly found his passion so young wouldn't it be a shame to coop him up and make him hide his light under a barrel?

When his parents are interviewed they talk about what a gift their golden child is and how they're awed by his talents and grateful to have him in their lives. When he's interviewed he talks about how much he loves speaking to audiences, making that little connection with so many of them, how he's so happy to see how happy they are when he comes on stage. He talks about how he'd love to have a radio show or do international tours someday. He wants to reach as many people as possible.

He's now doing the majority of the speaking—because he has such a talent for it, because the audiences come to hear him, because they like what he's saying and want to hear more of it, and he's eager to oblige.

After middle school they announce that he's "switching to home schooling" to make more time for speaking—and what's wrong with that? Lots of child performers with demanding schedules find creative ways to fit their schooling around their concerts or filming or shows or speaking engagements or whatever it is they do.

Anyone who's close enough to him to know he's dropped his education altogether is close enough to him that they're in on the con, so they're not gonna do anything about it. Who could imagine that a kid that well-spoken could be uneducated. Nobody in his audience is standing up to challenge the child psychic to prove he knows how to do algebra.

His mother dies, very tragic. The family withdraws for a little bit; then they're back on the road, saying that's what his mother would want for him. They do a brief little tribute to her at shows. He says that she's speaking to him from beyond. If you believe in the things he professes to believe, it's very very sweet.

If you don't believe, this is a red flag. But goddamn, "I don't believe in that family's religious beliefs" is NO grounds to investigate a family.

He starts getting combative with people who try to criticize him. That's not too weird, he's a teenager, it's not a sign of abuse, just immaturity. He can't always be the perfect angel he is on stage—and by god, if some snotty scientist is trying to undermine his spiritual claims, he SHOULD get mad! The kind of people paying close attention to him are the kind of people who believe in him. When he gets mad, he's expressing their collective righteous anger. They're on his side.

Rumors start spreading about him sneaking out to parties and getting trashed way too young. It sounds like a bunch of slander, it's just rumors, somebody's trying to undermine the reputation of this fine young triangle. Anyway, even if it's true, "nearly-adult teen is sneaking out to party and coming home drunk" isn't a sign of abuse, that's a thing kids do. That's a problem for his father to address, not the government.

Nobody outside of his immediate family learns about his uncle's death at one of his shows.

By the time this young triangle's dangerously incandescent temper has built up to the point that it starts to dominate his reputation and the public knows how vitriolic he is, he's legally an adult. There's no grounds for an investigation. He can't be taken away from his father, his father lives in his house. He's bringing in the money, he's calling the shots, and he has been for years.

So, take all that: "Why wasn't the Euclidean CPS called?"

Why would they be?

Even if they were, all a case worker would have found is a tightly-knit family that doesn't have a single bad word to say about each other to outsiders, and a home filled wall to wall with their son's accolades—news articles, trophies, pictures.

[mostlysignssomeportents]

AI “art” and uncanniness

TOMORROW (May 14), I'm on a livecast about AI AND ENSHITTIFICATION with TIM O'REILLY; on TOMORROW (May 15), I'm in NORTH HOLLYWOOD for a screening of STEPHANIE KELTON'S FINDING THE MONEY; FRIDAY (May 17), I'm at the INTERNET ARCHIVE in SAN FRANCISCO to keynote the 10th anniversary of the AUTHORS ALLIANCE.

When it comes to AI art (or "art"), it's hard to find a nuanced position that respects creative workers' labor rights, free expression, copyright law's vital exceptions and limitations, and aesthetics.

I am, on balance, opposed to AI art, but there are some important caveats to that position. For starters, I think it's unequivocally wrong – as a matter of law – to say that scraping works and training a model with them infringes copyright. This isn't a moral position (I'll get to that in a second), but rather a technical one.

Break down the steps of training a model and it quickly becomes apparent why it's technically wrong to call this a copyright infringement. First, the act of making transient copies of works – even billions of works – is unequivocally fair use. Unless you think search engines and the Internet Archive shouldn't exist, then you should support scraping at scale:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/09/17/how-to-think-about-scraping/

And unless you think that Facebook should be allowed to use the law to block projects like Ad Observer, which gathers samples of paid political disinformation, then you should support scraping at scale, even when the site being scraped objects (at least sometimes):

https://pluralistic.net/2021/08/06/get-you-coming-and-going/#potemkin-research-program

After making transient copies of lots of works, the next step in AI training is to subject them to mathematical analysis. Again, this isn't a copyright violation.

Making quantitative observations about works is a longstanding, respected and important tool for criticism, analysis, archiving and new acts of creation. Measuring the steady contraction of the vocabulary in successive Agatha Christie novels turns out to offer a fascinating window into her dementia:

https://www.theguardian.com/books/2009/apr/03/agatha-christie-alzheimers-research

Programmatic analysis of scraped online speech is also critical to the burgeoning formal analyses of the language spoken by minorities, producing a vibrant account of the rigorous grammar of dialects that have long been dismissed as "slang":

https://www.researchgate.net/publication/373950278_Lexicogrammatical_Analysis_on_African-American_Vernacular_English_Spoken_by_African-Amecian_You-Tubers

Since 1988, UCL Survey of English Language has maintained its "International Corpus of English," and scholars have plumbed its depth to draw important conclusions about the wide variety of Englishes spoken around the world, especially in postcolonial English-speaking countries:

https://www.ucl.ac.uk/english-usage/projects/ice.htm

The final step in training a model is publishing the conclusions of the quantitative analysis of the temporarily copied documents as software code. Code itself is a form of expressive speech – and that expressivity is key to the fight for privacy, because the fact that code is speech limits how governments can censor software:

https://www.eff.org/deeplinks/2015/04/remembering-case-established-code-speech/

Are models infringing? Well, they certainly can be. In some cases, it's clear that models "memorized" some of the data in their training set, making the fair use, transient copy into an infringing, permanent one. That's generally considered to be the result of a programming error, and it could certainly be prevented (say, by comparing the model to the training data and removing any memorizations that appear).

Not every seeming act of memorization is a memorization, though. While specific models vary widely, the amount of data from each training item retained by the model is very small. For example, Midjourney retains about one byte of information from each image in its training data. If we're talking about a typical low-resolution web image of say, 300kb, that would be one three-hundred-thousandth (0.0000033%) of the original image.

Typically in copyright discussions, when one work contains 0.0000033% of another work, we don't even raise the question of fair use. Rather, we dismiss the use as de minimis (short for de minimis non curat lex or "The law does not concern itself with trifles"):

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/De_minimis

Busting someone who takes 0.0000033% of your work for copyright infringement is like swearing out a trespassing complaint against someone because the edge of their shoe touched one blade of grass on your lawn.

But some works or elements of work appear many times online. For example, the Getty Images watermark appears on millions of similar images of people standing on red carpets and runways, so a model that takes even in infinitesimal sample of each one of those works might still end up being able to produce a whole, recognizable Getty Images watermark.

The same is true for wire-service articles or other widely syndicated texts: there might be dozens or even hundreds of copies of these works in training data, resulting in the memorization of long passages from them.

This might be infringing (we're getting into some gnarly, unprecedented territory here), but again, even if it is, it wouldn't be a big hardship for model makers to post-process their models by comparing them to the training set, deleting any inadvertent memorizations. Even if the resulting model had zero memorizations, this would do nothing to alleviate the (legitimate) concerns of creative workers about the creation and use of these models.

So here's the first nuance in the AI art debate: as a technical matter, training a model isn't a copyright infringement. Creative workers who hope that they can use copyright law to prevent AI from changing the creative labor market are likely to be very disappointed in court:

https://www.hollywoodreporter.com/business/business-news/sarah-silverman-lawsuit-ai-meta-1235669403/

But copyright law isn't a fixed, eternal entity. We write new copyright laws all the time. If current copyright law doesn't prevent the creation of models, what about a future copyright law?

Well, sure, that's a possibility. The first thing to consider is the possible collateral damage of such a law. The legal space for scraping enables a wide range of scholarly, archival, organizational and critical purposes. We'd have to be very careful not to inadvertently ban, say, the scraping of a politician's campaign website, lest we enable liars to run for office and renege on their promises, while they insist that they never made those promises in the first place. We wouldn't want to abolish search engines, or stop creators from scraping their own work off sites that are going away or changing their terms of service.

Now, onto quantitative analysis: counting words and measuring pixels are not activities that you should need permission to perform, with or without a computer, even if the person whose words or pixels you're counting doesn't want you to. You should be able to look as hard as you want at the pixels in Kate Middleton's family photos, or track the rise and fall of the Oxford comma, and you shouldn't need anyone's permission to do so.

Finally, there's publishing the model. There are plenty of published mathematical analyses of large corpuses that are useful and unobjectionable. I love me a good Google n-gram:

https://books.google.com/ngrams/graph?content=fantods%2C+heebie-jeebies&year_start=1800&year_end=2019&corpus=en-2019&smoothing=3

And large language models fill all kinds of important niches, like the Human Rights Data Analysis Group's LLM-based work helping the Innocence Project New Orleans' extract data from wrongful conviction case files:

https://hrdag.org/tech-notes/large-language-models-IPNO.html

So that's nuance number two: if we decide to make a new copyright law, we'll need to be very sure that we don't accidentally crush these beneficial activities that don't undermine artistic labor markets.

This brings me to the most important point: passing a new copyright law that requires permission to train an AI won't help creative workers get paid or protect our jobs.

Getty Images pays photographers the least it can get away with. Publishers contracts have transformed by inches into miles-long, ghastly rights grabs that take everything from writers, but still shifts legal risks onto them:

https://pluralistic.net/2022/06/19/reasonable-agreement/

Publishers like the New York Times bitterly oppose their writers' unions:

https://actionnetwork.org/letters/new-york-times-stop-union-busting

These large corporations already control the copyrights to gigantic amounts of training data, and they have means, motive and opportunity to license these works for training a model in order to pay us less, and they are engaged in this activity right now:

https://www.nytimes.com/2023/12/22/technology/apple-ai-news-publishers.html

Big games studios are already acting as though there was a copyright in training data, and requiring their voice actors to begin every recording session with words to the effect of, "I hereby grant permission to train an AI with my voice" and if you don't like it, you can hit the bricks:

https://www.vice.com/en/article/5d37za/voice-actors-sign-away-rights-to-artificial-intelligence

If you're a creative worker hoping to pay your bills, it doesn't matter whether your wages are eroded by a model produced without paying your employer for the right to do so, or whether your employer got to double dip by selling your work to an AI company to train a model, and then used that model to fire you or erode your wages:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/02/09/ai-monkeys-paw/#bullied-schoolkids

Individual creative workers rarely have any bargaining leverage over the corporations that license our copyrights. That's why copyright's 40-year expansion (in duration, scope, statutory damages) has resulted in larger, more profitable entertainment companies, and lower payments – in real terms and as a share of the income generated by their work – for creative workers.

As Rebecca Giblin and I write in our book Chokepoint Capitalism, giving creative workers more rights to bargain with against giant corporations that control access to our audiences is like giving your bullied schoolkid extra lunch money – it's just a roundabout way of transferring that money to the bullies:

https://pluralistic.net/2022/08/21/what-is-chokepoint-capitalism/

There's an historical precedent for this struggle – the fight over music sampling. 40 years ago, it wasn't clear whether sampling required a copyright license, and early hip-hop artists took samples without permission, the way a horn player might drop a couple bars of a well-known song into a solo.

Many artists were rightfully furious over this. The "heritage acts" (the music industry's euphemism for "Black people") who were most sampled had been given very bad deals and had seen very little of the fortunes generated by their creative labor. Many of them were desperately poor, despite having made millions for their labels. When other musicians started making money off that work, they got mad.

In the decades that followed, the system for sampling changed, partly through court cases and partly through the commercial terms set by the Big Three labels: Sony, Warner and Universal, who control 70% of all music recordings. Today, you generally can't sample without signing up to one of the Big Three (they are reluctant to deal with indies), and that means taking their standard deal, which is very bad, and also signs away your right to control your samples.

So a musician who wants to sample has to sign the bad terms offered by a Big Three label, and then hand $500 out of their advance to one of those Big Three labels for the sample license. That $500 typically doesn't go to another artist – it goes to the label, who share it around their executives and investors. This is a system that makes every artist poorer.

But it gets worse. Putting a price on samples changes the kind of music that can be economically viable. If you wanted to clear all the samples on an album like Public Enemy's "It Takes a Nation of Millions To Hold Us Back," or the Beastie Boys' "Paul's Boutique," you'd have to sell every CD for $150, just to break even:

https://memex.craphound.com/2011/07/08/creative-license-how-the-hell-did-sampling-get-so-screwed-up-and-what-the-hell-do-we-do-about-it/

Sampling licenses don't just make every artist financially worse off, they also prevent the creation of music of the sort that millions of people enjoy. But it gets even worse. Some older, sample-heavy music can't be cleared. Most of De La Soul's catalog wasn't available for 15 years, and even though some of their seminal music came back in March 2022, the band's frontman Trugoy the Dove didn't live to see it – he died in February 2022:

https://www.vulture.com/2023/02/de-la-soul-trugoy-the-dove-dead-at-54.html

This is the third nuance: even if we can craft a model-banning copyright system that doesn't catch a lot of dolphins in its tuna net, it could still make artists poorer off.

Back when sampling started, it wasn't clear whether it would ever be considered artistically important. Early sampling was crude and experimental. Musicians who trained for years to master an instrument were dismissive of the idea that clicking a mouse was "making music." Today, most of us don't question the idea that sampling can produce meaningful art – even musicians who believe in licensing samples.

Having lived through that era, I'm prepared to believe that maybe I'll look back on AI "art" and say, "damn, I can't believe I never thought that could be real art."

But I wouldn't give odds on it.

I don't like AI art. I find it anodyne, boring. As Henry Farrell writes, it's uncanny, and not in a good way:

https://www.programmablemutter.com/p/large-language-models-are-uncanny

Farrell likens the work produced by AIs to the movement of a Ouija board's planchette, something that "seems to have a life of its own, even though its motion is a collective side-effect of the motions of the people whose fingers lightly rest on top of it." This is "spooky-action-at-a-close-up," transforming "collective inputs … into apparently quite specific outputs that are not the intended creation of any conscious mind."

Look, art is irrational in the sense that it speaks to us at some non-rational, or sub-rational level. Caring about the tribulations of imaginary people or being fascinated by pictures of things that don't exist (or that aren't even recognizable) doesn't make any sense. There's a way in which all art is like an optical illusion for our cognition, an imaginary thing that captures us the way a real thing might.

But art is amazing. Making art and experiencing art makes us feel big, numinous, irreducible emotions. Making art keeps me sane. Experiencing art is a precondition for all the joy in my life. Having spent most of my life as a working artist, I've come to the conclusion that the reason for this is that art transmits an approximation of some big, numinous irreducible emotion from an artist's mind to our own. That's it: that's why art is amazing.

AI doesn't have a mind. It doesn't have an intention. The aesthetic choices made by AI aren't choices, they're averages. As Farrell writes, "LLM art sometimes seems to communicate a message, as art does, but it is unclear where that message comes from, or what it means. If it has any meaning at all, it is a meaning that does not stem from organizing intention" (emphasis mine).

Farrell cites Mark Fisher's The Weird and the Eerie, which defines "weird" in easy to understand terms ("that which does not belong") but really grapples with "eerie."

For Fisher, eeriness is "when there is something present where there should be nothing, or is there is nothing present when there should be something." AI art produces the seeming of intention without intending anything. It appears to be an agent, but it has no agency. It's eerie.

Fisher talks about capitalism as eerie. Capital is "conjured out of nothing" but "exerts more influence than any allegedly substantial entity." The "invisible hand" shapes our lives more than any person. The invisible hand is fucking eerie. Capitalism is a system in which insubstantial non-things – corporations – appear to act with intention, often at odds with the intentions of the human beings carrying out those actions.

So will AI art ever be art? I don't know. There's a long tradition of using random or irrational or impersonal inputs as the starting point for human acts of artistic creativity. Think of divination:

https://pluralistic.net/2022/07/31/divination/

Or Brian Eno's Oblique Strategies:

http://stoney.sb.org/eno/oblique.html

I love making my little collages for this blog, though I wouldn't call them important art. Nevertheless, piecing together bits of other peoples' work can make fantastic, important work of historical note:

https://www.johnheartfield.com/John-Heartfield-Exhibition/john-heartfield-art/famous-anti-fascist-art/heartfield-posters-aiz

Even though painstakingly cutting out tiny elements from others' images can be a meditative and educational experience, I don't think that using tiny scissors or the lasso tool is what defines the "art" in collage. If you can automate some of this process, it could still be art.

Here's what I do know. Creating an individual bargainable copyright over training will not improve the material conditions of artists' lives – all it will do is change the relative shares of the value we create, shifting some of that value from tech companies that hate us and want us to starve to entertainment companies that hate us and want us to starve.

As an artist, I'm foursquare against anything that stands in the way of making art. As an artistic worker, I'm entirely committed to things that help workers get a fair share of the money their work creates, feed their families and pay their rent.

I think today's AI art is bad, and I think tomorrow's AI art will probably be bad, but even if you disagree (with either proposition), I hope you'll agree that we should be focused on making sure art is legal to make and that artists get paid for it.

Just because copyright won't fix the creative labor market, it doesn't follow that nothing will. If we're worried about labor issues, we can look to labor law to improve our conditions. That's what the Hollywood writers did, in their groundbreaking 2023 strike:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/10/01/how-the-writers-guild-sunk-ais-ship/

Now, the writers had an advantage: they are able to engage in "sectoral bargaining," where a union bargains with all the major employers at once. That's illegal in nearly every other kind of labor market. But if we're willing to entertain the possibility of getting a new copyright law passed (that won't make artists better off), why not the possibility of passing a new labor law (that will)? Sure, our bosses won't lobby alongside of us for more labor protection, the way they would for more copyright (think for a moment about what that says about who benefits from copyright versus labor law expansion).

But all workers benefit from expanded labor protection. Rather than going to Congress alongside our bosses from the studios and labels and publishers to demand more copyright, we could go to Congress alongside every kind of worker, from fast-food cashiers to publishing assistants to truck drivers to demand the right to sectoral bargaining. That's a hell of a coalition.

And if we do want to tinker with copyright to change the way training works, let's look at collective licensing, which can't be bargained away, rather than individual rights that can be confiscated at the entrance to our publisher, label or studio's offices. These collective licenses have been a huge success in protecting creative workers:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/02/26/united-we-stand/

Then there's copyright's wildest wild card: The US Copyright Office has repeatedly stated that works made by AIs aren't eligible for copyright, which is the exclusive purview of works of human authorship. This has been affirmed by courts:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/08/20/everything-made-by-an-ai-is-in-the-public-domain/

Neither AI companies nor entertainment companies will pay creative workers if they don't have to. But for any company contemplating selling an AI-generated work, the fact that it is born in the public domain presents a substantial hurdle, because anyone else is free to take that work and sell it or give it away.

Whether or not AI "art" will ever be good art isn't what our bosses are thinking about when they pay for AI licenses: rather, they are calculating that they have so much market power that they can sell whatever slop the AI makes, and pay less for the AI license than they would make for a human artist's work. As is the case in every industry, AI can't do an artist's job, but an AI salesman can convince an artist's boss to fire the creative worker and replace them with AI:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/01/29/pay-no-attention/#to-the-little-man-behind-the-curtain

They don't care if it's slop – they just care about their bottom line. A studio executive who cancels a widely anticipated film prior to its release to get a tax-credit isn't thinking about artistic integrity. They care about one thing: money. The fact that AI works can be freely copied, sold or given away may not mean much to a creative worker who actually makes their own art, but I assure you, it's the only thing that matters to our bosses.

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/2024/05/13/spooky-action-at-a-close-up/#invisible-hand

[klapollo]

want to take a moment to note that today is the 112th anniversary of the triangle shirtwaist factory fire, where about 146 garment workers at the new york city factory -- mostly women and girls, mostly Jewish and Italian immigrants -- died grisly, brutal deaths due to the inhumane working conditions, including the stairwell doors and exits being locked to prevent the workers from stealing or taking more breaks, thus preventing them from escaping. the youngest victims were only 14. the event spurred a groundswell of unionization efforts and labor activism that resulted in a number of vital changes to workplace laws. today is a saturday, the same day of the week the women and children were working when the fire broke out -- the two day weekend was not adopted nationwide for another few decades.

as unions grow in popularity around the country and bigger and bigger companies attempt to crack down on them, we should not forget what is at stake if we fail to fight for our dignity at work. the organizing after the fire bolstered the burgeoning international ladies' garment workers union, of which my grandmother was a member after taking up factory work when she immigrated. ive directly benefitted from the work that came from the outrage. thinking about what these women and girls endured that day is wildly difficult but we cant afford to forget.

[bradandchris]

Chris threw in the last towel for his burgeoning line of men's underwear after learning his boyfriend Brad sourced the prototypes by purchasing them directly from SKIMS.

Finally connecting why they took a sheet to the beach that one day, Brad found it difficult to pay attention to a lecture on copyright infringement from someone involved in such an oversight debacle. It was also hard not to wonder what the grey skintight suit might look like wet.

Brad was far from alone. Everyone in the closest row of cabana's would hold their breath every time Brad took a small step backwards toward the pool in his highly animated and passionate speech oddly championing someone with billions, a team of lawyers, and the law already in their favor.

She was also a lawyer herself... or at minimum on her way. It was difficult to keep up with bar exam news between Klhoe's lackluster clap back's and finding yourself justifying why not a single man has managed to remain on the show despite secretly feeling not so hot about that. It was a lot with nowhere to go, especially considering the level of sophistication fronted.

Brimming with frustration at his boyfriend's antics, Chris snapped and rushed Brad midsentence to land them both squarely in the pool. Everyone on deck was already on the edge of their seat as they surfaced.

Well… Let's just say Kim K deserves every single dollar she has as the pool deck literally broke out in applause at the sheer glean and mind-blowing accentuation of Brad's perfect nipples. It was breathtaking. It was the only time the two of them wished California was more humid and colder.

Despite the gray suit's flawlessness, Brad and Chris still managed to one up the design. The incident inspired them to launch a new brand of swimwear composed completely of dissolvable materials called ‘Sorry But Not Sorry SKIMMY.’ The initial investor would convince Brad and Chris to shorten the name to ‘But SKIMMY’ to transform it into the ultimate macho answer to the curvaceous clothing line.

Ironically, Brad and Chris’ venture would fail because no one could materialize a profitable dissolvable.

[stevenbasic]

Growing into the Job, Post 372: Gone Viral

At this point I’d watched the video, the twenty-second clip from Amelia’s Saturday-night stream that had gone absolutely viral, more times than I could count. The clip was everywhere now. My phone was broken but I still had my desktop computer, and the video player filled my screen.

MAN MAKES GIRLS GROW BY CUMMING!!!

 It still made my mouth gape, it still made my skin crawl, and as I sat in my office alone this Tuesday morning it made me deathly afraid. What the actual fuck is happening?!? What had I become involved in?!? What had been happening to my body and - what was I doing to theirs?!?

Josie’s breasts broke out of her top. 

It was a trick, had to be something with editing, or a really good animation, or something - right?!? People don’t just…grow! It was physically impossible! It broke so many fundamental laws of nature and physics and physiology. It had to be fake. Didn’t it?? And, of course, it wasn’t me that caused it. It couldn’t be!

Lakshmi’s ass ballooned. 

Someone - one of the girls, or some online perv - had obviously made this clip of Amelia’s live recording of me sitting on Melissa’s lap, on her couch, surrounded by girls in bikinis and pajamas and getting whacked off by Josie. They’d clipped it, done weird things to it, and posted it…everywhere. That was the only explanation, that it had been altered. But…no. Now that I thought about it, I remembered. Memories came flooding back. 

Katie’s feet grew and burst from her flip-flop sandals. 

And what was happening with Josie’s hair?!?

And Melissa…Melissa looked enormous!

Oh my god!!

As I relived it again - the first time, in fact, back in the breakroom after a few bites of that terrible scone this morning - the memories started to get clearer. The girls had grown, all around me, my female staff had burgeoned and swelled. They surrounded me pressing around into me on Saturday night right after my handjob in Josie’s grip. And, though it didn’t make it onto the clip’s audio, I now remembered Randi’s whispered voice in my ear: “Get ready little man, your girls are going to eat you alive.”

Again: Oh my god!!

Three million views! More! More than three million views this thing had already, just on GirlToob (this popular, rapidly growing new video platform filled with content “for a female audience”) and it was posted only two days ago! I watched it again, looping. 

There I was, naked as day (certain parts of my anatomy were pixelated out for modesty on some sites, like this one, but I was full Monty on many of the re-uploads) and spasming in climax like a rag doll. And then, as the camera left me and scanned the surrounding women all suddenly consumed in ecstasy, the growth began. Josie’s top, Lakshmi’s bottom, and Katie’s feet, they all got bigger. And, by god, they all got taller too, right after I’d obviously climaxed Yes, it was subtle, and maybe a trick, but the fact remained: I was now internet famous for making girls grow. 

Can one actually die from humiliation? Is there an ICD-13 code for End-Stage Shame? Because I had a terminal case of mortification that was currently making my blood ice water and I felt like I should just go hide under a rock for oh…I don't know…the next decade or so. 

I watched the loop again, still in stunned silence staring into my future and feeling the world close in all around me. Though I tried my best to deny it as trickery, part of me knew this was no joke. It was as if I’d realized this all before, sitting there that Saturday night, but only now had it actually become real. And it was very, very public. Had I been mad at Amelia for streaming this, on Saturday night? I don’t think I was. In fact, I’m pretty sure I didn’t even know it was happening at the time, but when the girls showed me the video early this morning I kind of freaked out a bit. They all just laughed as they watched my reaction.. 

“Aww! Don’t be so dramatic,” one of them had said. 

“It’s all good,” said another. 

“People love you,” they tried to tell me. 

“Here, look at these comments, there’s hundreds of them,” I was told, “one girl calls you a hunk!”

“Or this one: ‘He’s every girl’s dream’.”

‘I want to hug him like a teddy bear.’

I want to eat him for breakfast. 

Can I be next haha??

Though most of the commenters were women, men had chimed in too: ‘ugh the dude is supersimp’ and ‘fuck yes make them all biggger u fuck’ or ‘STOP JUST WATCHNG WE NEED TO STIP THIS’

GOOD LORD!! I was, suddenly, a pariah, a savior, an object of lust and envy all at once. Millions of people had seen this! My heart thrump-thummed in my chest as my skin prickled with ignominy and the anxiety that was coming on like a horde of locusts. It was eating everything! Did I need to go to the authorities? Did I need to go to the hospital to find out what was wrong with me? Or did I just need to commit myself to the psych ward and be done with it? 

I needed t-

A knock at my door.

“Dr J?” came Aubrey’s voice, followed by Aubrey herself. Goddamnit even in my discomfit, my soul-panic, my eyes went to her tits. Jesus, her chest. Holy Christ her figure. This is Aubrey?!? Little Aubrey?!? She’d been six inches shorter - easily! - three months ago. If somehow I was responsible for all these changes to all these girls -  What have I done to her?!? She stepped in, closing the door to my office behind her, wearing a sensible - if overmatched - blue blouse, a mid-length skirt, and a look of concern. She was also carrying my ‘World’s Best Boss’ mug. 

“H-hey Aubrey, c-C-ome in,” I greeted her, hearing my voice crack again. It had been doing that more and more recently, especially in times of stress. I sounded like a pre-teen. I glanced at the white mug, which after a contrite thanks she offered to me. I hesitated. I remembered the cup the girls had poured me earlier; I hadn’t been able to stomach even a sip. “Is that my coffee?”

“No,” she said, a funny shiver to her voice, “I…I know you haven’t been drinking coffee, so…so I brought you this.”

I didn’t even notice her eyes watching me, studying my face as I accepted the mug and took a look at its contents. Jesus the mug felt heavy to me. And inside -  milk, of course it was milk. Melissa had been insistent we keep a gallon of both 2% and whole in the breakroom fridge now, in case I ever got thirsty, or hungry. It was - I had to admit - the easiest thing on my stomach these days. I was more than a little self-conscious that I’d become a milk-drinker and blushed a little here in front of Aubrey. The smell, though, cut through my perturbation. Wow, I guess I’m really craving this. It made sense: I hadn’t eaten much at all this morning. 

Aubrey continued to watch as I brought the mug to my lips and took a sip. Wow. It was delicious. Creamy, sweet, earthy. Maybe this is a new brand? And…

“You warmed it up?” I asked. It was warm, perfect. Like body temperature. 

“Oh, uh, yeah,” Aubrey answered, still sounding slightly nervous as she bit her lip, “in the, um, microwave? Is that okay?”

“Sure,” I answered, taking another sip, and then another. It caressed my mouth, slipped down my throat and immediately went to work filling my body with warmth and a new sense of something good, familiar. Holy crap this is great. I fought the urge to just gulp it down. “Thank you so much, Aubrey.” There was something different in my voice. I sounded calmer. 

“You’re welcome,” she answered. 

This, of course dear readers, was Katarina’s breastmilk. I didn’t know that at the time though, and somehow, in that moment I didn’t put the memory together, or recognize the taste. Again, my abilities to avoid the truth were Olympian. I’d drank of it over the weekend and this was the same thing, but goddammit as I sat at my desk my mind was if nothing else a fortress of denial. Subconsciously I refused to acknowledge it - but  I was drinking breastmilk.  

I looked up at Aubrey and instead of seeing a woman complicit in a plot to overthrow my authority here at the office, physically infantilize me into a cretin, and help herald in a new age of overwhelming female power, my eyes saw someone else. I saw a girl who cared about me, an employee who wanted my day to go well, and a budding friend. A daughter-figure in some respects, a cool younger protege in others. 

Christ I was so deluded!!!

But, no. Aubrey - all the girls, really - was all these things. Our little story here, if you haven’t figured it out by this point, is complicated. Good guys, bad guys, heroes and villains? It was all too convoluted for labels. What was I, for that matter? A culpable anti-hero working against my gender? A victim, a helpless simp? Was I the lead actor in a comedy, tragedy or reality-show from the most fucked-up universe ever? I don’t goddamn know, even now. But the fact of the matter is, at that moment in time - gazing up at Aubrey with my “World’s Best Boss” mug in my hand and my medical-records clerk’s breastmilk worming its way into me - I felt great. 

“What are you watching?” Aubrey asked, noticing that my screen was on, video player playing, looping. 

“Oh, yeah, this,” I said, taking another sip of warm, delicious  milk and turning the monitor towards her, “this is great. Wanna watch..?”

====================================

mucho thanks to RiF for editing and guidance

[phonydiaries]

could I perhaps get some of P being oblivious about lots of human behaviors still and going to the reader with questions ???

yes you fucking can

Lawful Dumbass P Headcanons

Pinocchio was initially very intrigued when you explained him where you can find and a human's heartbeat. He would sometimes hold fingers to your wrist and just below your jaw out of the blue as if needing to double-check your status as living, just in case.

On one occasion he presses his head to your chest and listens to the dull thump of your heart in a sort of trance. However, he jumps back in surprise upon hearing your stomach rumble. He looks at you with wide eyes in utter shock. You assure him about a million times that this is normal and unlike him, humans get hungry all the time. He is not entirely convinced and seemed to think there was a creature hiding in your torso for days.

While you're writing one day, he notices you absentmindedly biting the end of a pen, deep in thought. He starts doing this when he's pacing around Krat, although he really just grabs whatever happens to be nearby that could vaguely fit in his mouth. You've seen him try this with one of Eugenie's screwdrivers. She did not want it back.

You told Pinocchio a secret once and made him pinky swear not to tell anyone. He cocks his head to the side, confused. You take this opportunity to explain to him that a pinky promise is a time-honored human tradition of the utmost severity, a symbol of trust never to be broken. "In fact, if you are ever to go back on your word," You speak in a low grave tone, extending your pinky finger to him, "you'll be cursed. Forever." He takes this very seriously, locking his finger solemnly with yours before laying his hand over his heart with a stern expression, now forever oath-bound to you. It's damn near impossible for you to hold back laughter. As far as you know, he still believes you to this day.

There was a time that he came to you seemingly insecure, feeling wholly overwhelmed with an existential line of questioning about his burgeoning humanity. Was he really still only a puppet? Could he ever truly be considered human? Was he some unknown third possibility, alone in his otherness? You try in earnest to comfort him, assuring him that his exterior is irrelevant in the end. Though he may not be made of flesh and blood, it's what lies beneath the surface, deep inside, that matters. He seems to really consider this, and immediately retrieves his literal mechanical heart from his chest, holding it out to you quizzically. You gently push it back into his hands and shake your head. "Oh. No. Not like that." You stammer in complete awe.

[rockyp77mk3]

Price controls would help the middle class why do you on your side oppose them. Is there a reason other than it came form Democrats?

Price controls are a very bad idea. It doesn't matter if it comes from a Republican like Nixon or a Democrat like Harris. Price controls violate the law of supply and demand and are based on the idea that every supplier is gouging. Some do gouge, most do not and that is crucial.

If you look at the data most suppliers are making a very narrow profit. Their costs are up due to runaway inflation which was initiated by Biden's short sighted move to artificially shrink the energy supply, primarily petroleum based energy. Transportation, fertilizer, packaging, and processing costs have gone through the roof. This cost is naturally passed to the consumers or else the suppliers would soon be out of business.

It doesn't matter where price controls have been established. Nixon's America, Socialist Nicaragua, Cuba, East Germany, the Soviet Union. Mao's China or Xi's China the results are all the same. They will result in shortages, businesses going under, burgeoning black markets, civil unrest, unemployment, and in the end failure. Prices will not go down and products will be absent from the shelves.

[letters-to-rosie]

The Silco Essay

Long post ahead, TDLR included.

Let's do a little thought experiment. We're trying to institute socialism, worker control and ownership of the means of production. This is currently far from our reality, so we have a lot of work to do. We get together and talk and strategize, but it's difficult with all the surveillance we're under as we work. Not only would seizing the means of production be met with a harsh backlash but even unionization, which doesn't automatically lead to worker control or ownership, is suppressed even though that suppression is illegal in certain countries like the US.

How does that suppression happen? There are a lot more workers than owners. If we worked together, we could take them, right? Well, the owners have the law and access to call upon the state to enact violence on us. We can't exactly own the means of production if we get killed. Even if we overcome other hierarchies keeping us from solidarity, such as miners in West Virginia did by organizing across racial divisions, we can still be beaten. Those miner had bombs dropped on them.

Okay, thought experiment over. What does this have to do with Silco? It's taken me ages to think about how to explain it, but my beef with him is that he has what are essentially perfect conditions for creating a mass movement and does not use them. He is uniquely in a position to protect any burgeoning mass revolt until it would be too late for Piltover to stop it. This is why his comments to Sevika that they can buy another police chief ring hollow. They both know how good they had it.

This is not to say that I think Silco is poorly written or a "bad character." Silco being the way he is all comes down to the entire conceit of the show: two cities against each other, with a sister on each side. However, this does lead me to want to critique some things about the show's premise that lead to my critiques about Silco.

For the cities to be meaningfully opposed, Zaun can't just be oppressed. It has to be "bad" to counter Piltover's bad. This, I think, causes the majority of things that make me sad about the show overall. While I still enjoy it, much of what I enjoyed was a fantasy setting that dealt with real-world issues in its own way. However, for all the realism in the setting, there are some distinctly "not real" parts that seem to blunt discussions of the depth of the oppression Zaunites are suffering. There's only fleeting mentions of labor oppression, even though it must have been key to organizing their society. The way Piltovans like Heimerdinger and great house members like the Kirammans must've had an active hand in organizing and benefiting from this oppression is mostly skipped over. Much of Piltover's evil is shown to us in the form of police brutality, but under any system of police brutality is one of hierarchy that is actively maintained and serves more of a purpose than just violence for its own sake. Even so, the police brutality we're shown is more than enough to have us sympathize with Zaunite characters if they were to have a massive rebellion and change the shape of Piltover forever. But Piltover's shape can only change so much. That's the conceit of the show. We can't completely root for Zaun and have them be entirely sympathetic because it would break the world. This is why I think Silco has to be the face of Zaun instead of Ekko and the Firelights, why Ekko has to befriend Heimerdinger to soften that antagonism, and why the Firelights never gain enough power to challenge Piltover at a systemic level. Even when Ekko wants to, he's thwarted and unable to cross the bridge.

We have a lot more fantasy imagination than political imagination. Silco is very realistic. Authoritarians do tend to rise up and stop movements that are closer in practice to socialism. If there were a mass movement in Zaun, as there seems to be potential for around episode 3, Silco would want to redirect that energy so he can control it, and I wouldn't be surprised if that is, in some form or fashion, what he did while consolidating power in the wake of Vander's death. While I appreciate the realism, it does make me sad that many times we put so much more energy into imagining magic systems and mystical creatures than we do imagining ways people could live freely with each other. It's like we have to keep capitalist realism alive even if we have hoverboards (also, if it wasn't already clear, I think the greatest potential for socialism/other lefty schools of thought is seen in the Firelights; so we could totally have political imagination AND hoverboards if Riot weren't cowards).

Silco's strong individualism works well for his relationship with Jinx and allows him to serve and Vi's primary antagonist. Even as Vi goes on a path that leads her to become more and more morally questionable as the plot goes on (like her sister lol), the sheer horror of what Silco inflicted on her makes Vi's story easy to digest. For Silco and Jinx, Silco's individualist outlook allows him to see her separated from the conditions that he is exacerbating outside. There are probably at least a hundred kids who could be as smart if given the right conditions (which makes Jinx and Ekko foils, for instance), but Silco doesn't care because he doesn't have a personal connection with them. He sees Jinx not as a child among many but as the child. I think this is part of why it's so hard for him to even think of giving her up and why he really never would have. However, I think it would be wrong to suggest that we'd have to sacrifice a great storyline for Silco to be more class conscious. It's possible to hold the tension between seeing greatness in individuals you love and knowing there is similar greatness in every individual that is being stomped on by the various oppressions we face, including the ones we share.

Because of these factors (Piltover being written to be the oppressor but Zaun needing to be equally bad so the show can "both sides" the conflict; a general lack of political imagination, which is also hemmed in by the source material and keeps us from fun fictional socialism except in small doses; and the general individualism baked into Silco's character that leads him to not even consider that a mass movement is the best way to achieve his aim of independence), I find Silco's politics very boring, lol. If we're to think about what his revolution might bring about, I'd find it much easier to compare to a bourgeois revolution (such as the US one) than to a socialist revolution that devolved into state capitalism (such as the USSR). One thing that characterized the US revolution was its unwillingness to include all the potential actors who might've fought in the war, particularly enslaved people. More enslaved people actually fought on the British side, as they were promised independence (even though Britain had not abolished slavery, so this was probably a scam). By desiring to maintain the system of chattel slavery and the hierarchies it created, the US revolutionaries missed out on the possibility to create a mass movement and jeopardized the success of their movement in the process.

This all reminds me of the distinction Kwame Ture (formerly known as Stokely Carmichael) draws between the Black Revolutionary and the Black Militant:

Now, there are a number of groups functioning in the black liberation movement in this country. I will not give the philosophy of those groups. I will not speak for them because I wouldn’t want their representatives to speak for us. There are, of course, the National Association for the Advancement of Colored People, the Congress for Racial Equality, the Student Nonviolent Coordinating Committee, the Southern Christian Leadership Conference, and the Black Panther Party. Most of these groups have basically been fighting for a share of the American pie, at least until recently. That is to say, they were kept out of the American dream, and many of them thought that if they were to adopt the manners, the mode, the culture of the oppressor, they would be accepted and they too could enjoy the fruits of American imperialism. But today, among the young generation of blacks in this country, an ideology is developing that says we cannot, in fact, accept the system. This differentiates the black militant from the black revolutionary. The black militant is one who yells and screams about the evils of the American system, himself trying to become a part of that system. The black revolutionary’s cry is not that he is excluded, but that he wants to destroy, overturn, and completely demolish the American system and start with a new one that allows humanity to flow. I stand, then, on the side of the black revolutionary and not on the side of the black militant. (From Stokely Speaks: From Black Power to Pan-Africanism)

Silco's demands to Jayce, along with his exclusion of most of the people from Zaun in the process of transforming society and his exploitation of them via shimmer, place him firmly on the side of the militant in this equation. Silco wants access to the fruits of Piltover's progress while only upsetting the structure where it negatively affects him. Again, while there's a lot I can enjoy in his character, I get frustrated with his insistence at being counter-revolutionary at every turn. I have a long reading list for him, and since he's in the afterlife now, he'll have time to get to it.

TLDR: Silco says he doesn't have to beat Piltover, just scare them. You know what's really scary, Silco? The masses of the people standing up and demanding that their oppression end, for fuck's sake.

[beachlifelez]

While the King and his brother counseled together, and the Queen and her sister-in-law supervised goings on for the royal feast, cousins Siobhan and Annabelle were able to sneak away to Annabelle’s quarters to resume their burgeoning love affair.

Annabelle broke their kiss.

“You will pay all due respect to the king’s daughter now, Siobhan.”

“Yes, Annabelle.”

“Princess Annabelle.”

“I beg your pardon; Princess Annabelle.”

“To your knees.”

“Of course.”

And to her knees Siobhan went. And with her tongue, and lips, and teeth, she repeated the opening act of all their encounters. She honored Annabelle’s regal pussy with complete dedication, ensuring quite the royally amazing climax.

Once proper tribute had been paid, Annabelle would welcome Siobhan to her bed. And for the rest of their time together, they would just be two scandalous cousins in love, and lust, with each other.

[nayziiz]

No Way | LN4

Summary: Lando Norris, an F1 driver for McLaren Racing, faces persistent attention on his single status. In an attempt to appease fans and quell rumours, his management suggests a fake relationship with a popular Portuguese model. However, Lando's PR manager, Natalie, disagrees, believing fans would see through the ploy. As an alternative, Lando's management notices the genuine bond between him and Natalie and proposes they feign a relationship for authenticity. Initially hesitant, they agree, given their existing friendship and professional connection. The fake relationship takes an unexpected turn as Lando and Natalie grapple with burgeoning real feelings, attempting unsuccessfully to conceal their growing emotions.

Pairing: Lando Norris x Original Character (Natalie)

Warnings: Mentions of physical and emotional abuse

Masterlist

CHAPTER 2

“Oh, sweetie, it’s so good to see you!” Lando’s mom, Cisca, squeals as she envelopes Natalie into a tight hug. The genuine warmth in Cisca's embrace reflects the affection she holds for Natalie.

“Yeah, we’ve really missed having you around.” Flo, Lando’s sister, adds, joining in the familial welcome. Natalie reciprocates the affection by folding her arms around Lando’s younger sisters, Flo and Cisca. The bond between them feels like a continuation of the family connection they've built over time.

“I think she’ll be around more often now.” Lando informs his family, a hint of assurance in his voice. Cisca shoots Lando a questioning look, curiosity twinkling in her eyes.

“I will be, I promise. I think you still owe me horse riding lessons.” Natalie concedes with a playful smile as she turns to Flo, acknowledging the young equestrian champion in the making.

The hotel suite is filled with joy and laughter as the Norris family re-welcome Natalie into its folds. The atmosphere is warm and familial, creating a scene that, to an outsider, might seem like a heartwarming reunion with in-laws rather than colleagues.

The night unfolds with shared moments of connection, laughter echoing through the room as they engage in spirited rounds of board games. The camaraderie extends beyond the professional realm, transcending the roles of F1 driver and PR manager. The familial bond they've built over time becomes more apparent with every smile and shared joke.

As dinner is enjoyed together, the sense of togetherness deepens. The suite becomes a haven of shared stories, genuine laughter, and a comforting sense of belonging. The familial embrace is not limited to blood ties, and Natalie finds herself enveloped in the warmth of the Norris family's acceptance.

As the night progresses, the exhaustion from a day filled with laughter and connection takes its toll. Natalie, finding a moment of comfort on the couch, succumbs to sleep. Lando, ever considerate, chooses the floor beside her with her hand resting gently on his chest, a silent testament to the unspoken bond that has grown between them. The hotel suite, once a space for family, fun and joy, now cradles the gentle stillness of a shared moment as they rest side by side.

- THE NEXT DAY -

“Job well done today, Lando. What are your goals for the race tomorrow?” The interviewer asks Lando post-Qualifying.

“The usual, really. We’re hoping for a good result tomorrow, possibly a win if we’re able to capitalise on the pace we showed today.” Lando responds, still slightly breathless due to the run from the garage to the media pen.

“Let’s get some fan questions.” The interviewer encourages and soon hands are flying up as the fans burn to ask Lando their questions.

“Who is here supporting you this weekend?” A young fan manages to squeal into the microphone the interviewer hands him.

“I have my family here this weekend, so I'm quite excited to perform well with them watching.” Lando sweetly responds to the young fan.

“There are rumours online that you have a girl here this weekend. Will she be watching from the garage?” A teenage girl asks Lando excitedly.

“Uh, no.” Lando hesitates before he regains his composure. “There’s no girl here this weekend.”

Lando finds himself increasingly anxious when faced with questions about his love life. The life of an F1 driver already comes with immense pressure, but the added scrutiny on his romantic relationships intensifies the stress. The expectation to have a glamorous partner by his side for public appeasement is an unspoken demand, and this season, the intensity of inquiries about his personal life reaches unprecedented levels.

Interview after interview, it seems there's hardly a moment without a probing question about his romantic entanglements. Lando, inherently private about his personal life, detests these inquiries and the unwanted intrusion into his private affairs. The constant spotlight on his love life becomes a source of discomfort and distraction from his racing focus.

Recognising Lando's unease, Natalie, his astute PR manager, has raised the concern with the management team. Together, they strategize to alleviate the pressure on Lando during interviews. The proposal includes reaching out to media outlets to request a ban on questions related to his romantic life. The goal is to create a boundary that allows Lando to maintain his privacy and redirect the focus back to his achievements on the track.

- THE NEXT DAY -

“Thank you for stopping by. I just wanted to briefly discuss a proposal with you.” Charlotte, head of communications and PR for McLaren, states as Lando joins her, Natalie, and Zak in the small conference room above hospitality.

“Sure, what’s up?” Lando asks, interested to hear what Charlotte had to say.

“As you know, the media has been trying very hard to draw blood from a stone when it comes to your love life. So, we think we may have a solution to that.” Zak begins.

“We are hoping you would agree to a fake relationship with an up and coming Portuguese model, Raquel Perrera. You’ll have the safety net of having a girl by your side on race weekends, shutting the media down, and she has the benefits that come with dating a F1 driver.” Charlotte continues.

“So, a fake relationship?” Lando clarifies.

“Correct.” Zak confirms.

Lando studies the faces of the people seated in front of him, their expressions revealing a mixture of anticipation and curiosity. His gaze eventually turns to Natalie, his trusted PR manager. The proposal catches him off guard, and while he's not entirely against the idea, he senses the weight of the decision.

Natalie, on the other hand, maintains a neutral face, concealing her emotions behind a carefully crafted expression. Internally, she is appalled by the idea of orchestrating a fake relationship for Lando. The concept contradicts her principles of transparency and authenticity, elements she values in managing Lando's public image.

The silent exchange between Lando and Natalie reflects their unspoken understanding. Lando contemplates the potential benefits of the proposal, primarily in alleviating the constant scrutiny on his personal life. Natalie, however, grapples with the ethical implications and the potential impact on Lando's credibility.

“Natalie, what do you think?” Charlotte inquires.

“No way.” Natalies quickly responds leaning onto the table in front of her. “That would be too obvious. They’ve never been seen together, nor have they interacted in any way, shape, or form. It would take ages to soft launch the relationship and he would just be peppered with the same questions every week. I don’t think it would work. The fans will see right through it and could cause more scandal than anything else.”

Natalie's immediate and firm rejection of the proposal reveals her astuteness in understanding the intricacies of managing Lando's public image. Her objections extend beyond personal discomfort; she sees the potential pitfalls in attempting to orchestrate a fake relationship with Raquel Perrera. Her analysis highlights the importance of authenticity in navigating the delicate balance of fame and public perception.

Charlotte sits back, realising they may have jumped too quickly with their proposal. Zak looks defeated, desperate to find a solution that could make Lando’s life slightly easier.

“Lando? What are your thoughts?” Zak asks him.

“Honestly, I’m not against it, but I have to agree with Nattie on this. It would be so far-fetched when I know nothing about her.” Lando responds.

Lando's honesty echoes Natalie's concerns about the lack of authenticity in the proposed plan. His reservations stem from a desire to maintain a genuine connection with his public image. The room remains enveloped in a contemplative atmosphere, grappling with the realisation that the initial proposal might not be the solution they had hoped for.

As Lando explains his thoughts, Charlotte’s expression softens as she watches Lando glance at Natalie every so often as he speaks.

“What about Natalie?” Charlotte pips.

“I’m sorry?” Natalie quickly questions her boss.

“You two get on well. You’re together pretty much all the time. Wouldn’t that be the perfect cover?” Charlotte explains. “You know each other well enough and are comfortable around each other.”

Silence hits the room as Natalie and Lando gaze at each other, each waiting for the other to answer. The unexpected suggestion hangs in the air, creating a palpable tension. The proposal challenges the boundaries of their professional relationship and introduces a dynamic that neither of them anticipated. The weight of the decision rests on the unspoken understanding between Natalie and Lando, leaving the room in suspense as they grapple with the implications of Charlotte's proposition.

“With all due respect, I don’t think that will work either.” Natalie states. “A relationship, fake or not, between the two of us would be a direct breach of our Code of Conduct.”

“We can make an exception. We can draw up paperwork or something to make it seem legitimate.” Zak adds.

Natalie sits back, folding her arms over her chest, not sure what to say. The room lingers in a moment of tension as the suggestion challenges the boundaries of professionalism. Lando's eyes remain fixed on Natalie, studying her, perhaps trying to gauge her thoughts and emotions in the midst of this unexpected proposal.

“I have to agree. It makes sense, sure. But, that brings a whole new list of problems. Fans would be coming after her like crazy and we’d be accused of being unprofessional.” Lando explains.

“Of course, I’m sorry. We’re just trying to find a way to make it easier for you to do these interviews. I’ll see if I can ban any personal questions in the meantime so we can think of something else.” Charlotte apologises, acknowledging the complexity of the situation and expressing a commitment to finding an alternative solution.

Charlotte and Zak leave the room after a few minutes of discussion, leaving Lando and Natalie to brew in an awkward silence. The atmosphere becomes charged with tension, and both struggle to maintain eye contact.

“Lando.” Natalie starts, but Lando interrupts her.

“You’re right, a fake relationship will just cause more trouble than good.” Lando states as he gets up and glances down at her still seated.

“We’ll find a way to get them to stop asking, I promise.” She assures him before he heads out to his race.

As Lando leaves the room, Natalie is left with a mix of relief and lingering tension, aware that the delicate balance of managing Lando's public image continues to pose challenges.

A small part of Lando feels disappointed and rejected. The swift dismissal of the idea by Natalie stirs a sense of disappointment in him. He recognizes that she may not have given the proposal proper consideration, and a subtle feeling of rejection lingers. Despite understanding the potential pitfalls, there's a fleeting sense of what could have been—a solution to ease the relentless pressure on his personal life.

Natalie, on the other hand, hates the sinking feeling in her chest. She knows that she could have potentially offered a solution to Lando's biggest problem, but her commitment to professional ethics and a sense of transparency prevails. The idea of a fake relationship goes against her principles, even though she acknowledges the potential relief it could bring to Lando.

- AFTER THE RACE - 

Natalie sits quietly in her seat, her eyes fixed on the race unfolding before her. The air is thick with anticipation as the cars zoom around the track. However, her keen observation reveals that Lando seems distracted. Silly mistakes punctuate his performance, and the Ferrari relentlessly trails him around every corner on the last lap.

As the race reaches its climax, tension builds. The Ferrari seizes an opportunity and overtakes Lando on the final straight, securing the win as they navigate the last corner. The disappointment is palpable as Lando finishes in second position once again. The roar of the crowd and the cheers for the victor only serve to amplify the quiet frustration that lingers in the McLaren pit.

Natalie watches, her expression reflecting a mix of concern and understanding. She knows the weight that each race carries for Lando, and the disappointment in falling short of victory is a shared sentiment.

“That’s P2, mate. P2.” Jon, Lando’s race engineer, calls over the radio.

“Absolute shit.” Lando mumbles back over his radio.

The crew sighs with disappointment, but they still rush out to congratulate Lando on his second position. Natalie, aware of the impending media scrutiny, stays behind. Her phone immediately starts flooding with messages, signaling the onslaught of media questions Lando can expect once he gets to the media pen.

In the quiet aftermath of the race, Natalie prepares herself to manage the upcoming barrage of inquiries, shielding Lando from the immediate aftermath of disappointment. The pit buzzes with a mix of subdued chatter and the distant cheers of the victorious team. Lando's frustration is palpable, and Natalie readies herself to navigate the delicate post-race interactions with the media.

Lando returns to the garage after taking to the podium for his champagne celebrations and walks right to his driver’s room. Natalie follows him as she attempts to prepare him for his media debriefing. She runs him through some of the questions, but he merely grunts in response.

“Well done on P2, Lando. So close to that first F1 win. What happened out there on that last lap?” Jenson Button, the interviewer, asks Lando, the disappointment evident in his question

“It’s disappointing to say the least. And, frustrating. I don’t really know what happened, just stupid mistakes on my part. Braking too soon, I suppose.” Lando shrugs off the answer, visibly agitated and over the whole media session.

“That first win is so well within your grasp. What’s the next step to get you on that winner’s podium?” Jenson continues to ask.

“Just have to keep our heads down and keep pushing.” Lando bluntly responds.

“Any plans to relax and rewind tonight before heading to Australia later this month?” Jenson queries, changing the topic.

“Nothing special at the moment, we’ll see what the mood is like after debriefing.” Lando is stoic with his response.

“Hopefully the ladies can show you some love tonight to get your spirits up.” Jenson teases Lando with a light jab in the shoulder.

Lando grows visibly frustrated throughout the interview and before he can respond to the interviewer’s last statement, Natalie steps in, recognising the need to manage the situation and shield Lando from further agitation.

“Thank you for your questions. Please remember to refrain from making personal statements or asking personal questions in the future. That’s all for tonight. Thank you again.” She bluntly states before following Lando out of the media pen and back to his driver’s room.

The weight of guilt intensifies within Natalie. The frustration and discomfort Lando experienced during the interview only serve to amplify her sense of responsibility. As they retreat from the media scrutiny, the unspoken acknowledgment of the challenges in managing Lando's public image remains. The delicate balance between personal ethics and professional obligations becomes more apparent, leaving Natalie to grapple with the uncharted territory of their evolving relationship and the unspoken possibilities that linger beneath the surface.

“Why do they feel the need to know everything all the time?” Lando snaps once she closes the door behind her. “When did they become so entitled to the point where they need to know who I’m seeing and what I’m doing?”

The frustration in Lando's voice resonates, highlighting the relentless scrutiny that comes with fame in the Formula 1 world. Natalie understands the weight of the questions, the intrusion into his personal life, and the toll it takes on his mental and emotional well-being. In the silence that follows, she becomes a silent witness to the internal struggle he faces, torn between the demands of public life and the desire for privacy.

“As if I didn’t have a shit enough race, they feel the need to rub it into my face that I am single and have no one here to motivate me.” He continues.

“Okay, that’s enough.” Natalie sternly intervenes causing him to pause and look at her, his eyes widening just a tad. “When did you start caring about what others say or think about you?”

Natalie’s question hangs in the air, a gentle reminder that external opinions should not dictate his worth or define his identity. Her stern tone conveys a protective stance, shielding him from the unnecessary burden of societal expectations.

“So, you’re single. Great. Live your life, go out, go party, go hook-up with some random girls. You have nothing tying you down. Let them enjoy that, let them keep speculating, let them keep your name trending without any cause or facts. Your relationship status does not define who you are.” Natalie continues, exhausted and breathless.

Her words resonate with a sense of liberation, an insistence that Lando should not allow external perceptions to dictate his actions or self-worth. The exhaustion in her voice carries the weight of witnessing someone she cares about being affected by the incessant scrutiny. In this moment, Natalie transcends her role as a PR manager, becoming a confidante and a voice of reason for Lando, encouraging him to embrace the freedom that comes with being unburdened by societal expectations.

"And, there are plenty of people here to motivate you and support you." Natalie adds, offended by the fact that he has looked past her and the team's support.

Their conversation is cut short by a call from Lando’s best friend, Max. Recognizing the need for personal space, Natalie tactfully steps away, leaving Lando to converse with his best friend.

“Hey, buddy.” Lando answers.

“Hey, man. You good? What was that last lap?” Max asks.

“My head was not in that race at all today.” Lando admits.

“Why? What happened?” Max implores.

“You know how everyone’s been asking me about my love life. So, management suggests I fake date this model and Natalie shoots that down, and rightfully so, she made some good points. Then Charlotte asks if Natalie wouldn’t fake date me instead, since it would be more believable, and then she rejects that idea instantly.” Lando explains.

“So, are you mad that everyone keeps bugging you about it or mad at Natalie because she rejected the idea?” Max asks to clarify the situation.

“Is it wrong that I’m mad at her for not wanting to help me out?” Lando mumbles.

“Dude, she just got out of an abusive six-year relationship, do you really blame her for going the drama-free route?” Max counters.

“Of course, I don’t blame her for that. It’s just frustrating having to answer these questions all the time and deal with stupid statements.” Lando responds.

“She’s been doing a good job getting you out of answering those questions. Just ride the wave. They’ll get bored with this eventually.” Max assures his friend.

---------------------------

Taglist: @noneofyourfbusinessworld

[that-student-that-has-homework]

Preemptively Making A Master List

Because if I don't do it early on, I might not do it at all

Tutorial: Making Headers using Photopea Design Basics Resources

Genshin Impact

Al-Haitham The Rationality of Emotion --01: Unexpected --02: Unbelievable! Headcanons -- 01: Love Language -- 02: Loving Adages (or Pet Names) -- 03: Babatham (Papatham) How he is as a father -- Al-Haitham is a loving husband Ficlets Gentle Reciprocity Helping an Injured Bird (Ask) Diluc Ragnvindr You WILL Have My Herbs: -- 01: A Fierce Shade of Red -- 02: Debt Simply Won't Do -- 03: A Most Suspicious Shade of Blue -- 04: There will Always be SOME Weeds to Deal With -- 05: Burgeoning Superbloom -- 06: Purple Befitting Royalty

One Piece

Portgas D. Ace Matching Pretty Girl based off of this idea: Mrs.Oharaa's lovely snippet Louder than Words Pulse - Inspired by a post by @/captainportgasdace Ace Headcanons 01 - Husband + Father Ace Headcanons 02 - Jealousy. Conflict. Resolution Trafalgar Law Random Thoughts 01: Law is Fun to Torture Koby Koby imagine (Ask)

Haikyuu!!

Miya Osamu - Marriage Pact Bokuto Koutaro - Yours are My Favorite (MDNI - suggestive)

Jujutsu Kaisen

How to Write Gojo x Reader? No Reason Needed (Ask)

[triptychgrip]

Viktor (re)embracing gender-fluidity

Viktor glanced at Yuuri for moral support, feeling emboldened by the warmth in his smile. To buy himself some time, he took a large gulp of his iced tea, then gave Makka a few head scritches.

He then attempted to utter the final sentence of his, admittedly, clumsy speech.

“So…in light of all that, I’ve come to the realization…

His voice faltered, his brain thrown off by the thundering of his heartbeat in his ears. 

Fuck. Why was this so difficult? 

Every fiber of his being told him that there was an extremely slim chance of his sister-in-law reacting negatively to this admission, but even so, he couldn’t help it. 

He was terrified.

If it hadn’t been for the squeeze of Yuuri’s fingers around his own, he wouldn’t have been able to continue the monologue that the two of them had painstakingly crafted, the Japanese having been rehearsed nearly ad nauseum.

“I don’t identify as a man…though it’s probably most accurate to say that I don’t identify as only a man,” Viktor murmured, trying and failing to meet Mari’s eyes. “I’ve actually known this for awhile – which is a whole other story that I’m not ready to get into – but it’s only recently that I decided I wanted to be open about it with people other than Yuuri.”

The next half-minute or so was punctuated by little more than the whirring of the two newly-installed window air conditioning units: gifts from him and Yuuri after literally two years of pleading to be allowed to contribute to a few key onsen upgrades. 

If Viktor weren’t already so used to Mari’s stolidity, he might have been more offended by her non-reaction. Other than continuing to chew slowly and methodically on the grilled salmon chunks of her “second breakfast”, her face barely moved. 

Out of the corner of his eye, he could see his husband fidgeting, his eyebrows knitted together with burgeoning anxiety. 

Just when he was sure that Yuuri would beg for her to say something, Mari looked up and voiced a sentence that made Viktor’s chest ache.

“You should let me pierce your ears.”

And…

Oh.

Suddenly Viktor’s eyes were stinging, brimming with tears he was helpless to fight. 

He was too overwhelmed to do anything about them, but he did splutter a laugh at the rapidity with which Yuuri whipped out his favorite Makka-printed handkerchief, put it into his hand and mechanically brought his arm up to his face.

You should let me pierce your ears.

It was a seven word reaction that was so completely Mari: a suggestion offered in the measured, almost subdued sort of tone that someone else might have taken for disinterest. And yet, given the circumstances, it was the most wonderfully validating reaction. It was a simultaneous thank you for telling me and I’m glad you trusted me with this and this doesn’t change how I see you (at least not in any sort of negative way). 

It said: you should tell mom and dad because they’d be happy for you.

Goya gave a loud whine and rose up on her hind legs to paw at Yuuri’s shoulder, and Viktor’s stomach gave a tiny lurch when he realized that he was crying as well.

It seemed that Mari wasn’t feeling nearly as generous towards her brother, though. Quick as lightning, she reached over to steal a flaky bite of Yuuri’s fish and popped it into her mouth, unceremoniously.

“Cut it out, otouto, you’re stealing Vik-chan’s thunder,” she quipped mid-chew, though her lips were twitching. “You’re not allowed to cry more than hi– ”

She stopped, abruptly, her eyes widening in a very uncharacteristic show of hesitation. When she next spoke, it was clear that she felt a bit embarrassed. 

“I was about to say ‘him’, but then I realized I was making assumptions.” 

She looked a bit sheepish and Viktor couldn’t help but beam at her through his blurred vision. 

“Him is fine, for today, anyway,” he croakily replied before turning to Yuuri to begin helping him dry his own tears.

Relief and euphoria mingled in his brain, dizzying him ever so slightly as he worked.

Could acceptance really be this easy? 

If okaasan and tousan reacted even half as well, then perhaps the fissures in his heart that had been growing for over a decade would actually have some hope of mending. 

The decision Viktor had relayed to Yakov in April of 2009 had gone on to taint some of his happiest memories. It had lent them a palpable bitterness, as if his words regarding the forked path in his career had been emblazoned upon his tongue. 

He’d had to give his former coach some credit, however, because Yakov’s trademark gruffness had been nowhere in sight for the duration of that conversation. In fact, his eyes had looked the saddest Viktor had ever seen them, and even now, it brought a lump to his throat when he remembered how Yakov had croakily told him that it might be possible one day: that there might come a time when Viktor could escape the unrelenting grip of the federation…

That there might come a time when he could call himself whatever he wanted, could wear whatever he wanted on or off the ice, and love whomever he wanted. 

Of course, this day hadn’t materialized until after his retirement, but Viktor knew there was little good in dwelling on lost time. Now, the best thing he could do was to look to the future and dictate things on his own terms.

“I plan on taking things in steps,” Viktor now said to Mari before leaning into the solid presence of Yuuri’s arm at his back. 

Though he was still sniffling, Yuuri’s fingers languidly rubbed up and down his spine, carefully tracing the knobs through his thin t-shirt. The casual comfort meant more to him than he could possibly convey.

“It’ll probably be a few months before I’ve decided on what exactly this all means, but for now, I just…wanted to tell you,” Viktor quietly went on, feeling gratified when his sister-in-law accepted his statement with a quick nod.

Amusement then plucked at the corners of his mouth when she made to steal another bite of fish.

Yuuri failed to react quickly enough to prevent it, and his surly, delayed outburst made both him and Mari begin to laugh.

“You’re not piercing his ears, neechan! We’ll go to a proper establishment, this isn’t The Parent Trap!” 

…

Don’t get me wrong: I love canon’s emphasis on acceptance regarding both gender identity and sexuality, but since discovering YOI four years ago, I’ve often found myself wondering about more realistic scenarios as it relates to skating politics/Russia’s conservatism.

Viktor being able to reclaim the gender-fluidity of his teenage years, post-retirement, is one of the things I was most eager to explore in my 2018/2022 Olympic Games WIP series. While this is a theme that appears throughout (especially in part 1), I would one day like to publish a one-shot wholly dedicated to covering Viktor’s journey (which the ficlet above would be part of).

[gerec]

cherik genosha fics? (not necessarily canon or post paris proposal, but it could be) I just want a story developed in genosha.

Hi Anon,

Here are some of my favourite Genosha aus (along with a couple by yours truly)! I had to limit it to modern aus for this list otherwise it would be impossible wrangle them all into one post!

Three Kinds of Learning by luchia (series)

Erik intends to recruit Raven's supposedly amazing, all-powerful older brother. Instead, he finds himself dealing with Charles Xavier, a weak, tweed-addled professor who seems to think powers don't matter nearly as much as personality. Erik's misconceptions are blown apart when Raven goes missing.

Us by Pangea

“Charles,” Erik says, and if his voice hits a pleading note then who can really blame him, “Charles, it’s me.”

It takes several longer moments before Charles musters up the strength to answer, breath stuttering horribly as he tries to breathe. He’s shaking, entire body trembling.

“Erik,” Charles says, his voice cracking, “Erik, I want to die.”

With Abandon by sunryder

The best part about Charles' favorite bakery isn't the location, and it isn't the lovely smell, or even the Earl Grey cupcakes. It's the Baker.

Erik Lehnsherr is a beautiful specimen of a man, particularly when his fussing over Charles takes the form of pastry.

Such a pity Charles doesn't know Erik is an assassin.

Politico by cygnaut

Modern Genosha Politics AU. In which Erik is l'enfant terrible of the mutant National Assembly, and his staff just wants to get him laid.

The O(l)dd Couple by winterhill 

In public, Erik and Charles are immensely powerful and charismatic world leaders. In private, they're a pair of stubborn old men.

Westchester Café by orphan_account

Erik Lensherr is Magneto; second most powerful mutant, president of Genosha and constantly pining over the adorable waiter slash baker Charles Xavier at Westchester Café. He's also the self declared rival of Professor X; the most powerful mutant, and Genosha's mysterious wealthy benefactor, who no one has ever seen.

Nation Building and other Diplomatic Negotiations by Pookaseraph

With the recent passage of a submissive registration law in the United Kingdom, there are now only two industrialized nation with a relatively stable government to have neither a mutant nor a submissive registration law. Erik Lehnsherr, the newly minted King of Genosha, and his Prime Minister Emma Frost intend to take advantage of this turn of events to bring the Xavier Institute to the island nation of Genosha. They both know bringing Charles Xavier, the noted activist of mutant and submissive rights, to the island will necessarily politicize the man, and create all manner of complications. With a constitution not yet finalized and external threats to Genoshan security all around them, Erik, Emma, and Charles will fight for what they believe in to shape Genosha into what it should be.

A Genosha AU with moderate D/s elements.

Diplomatic Immunity by Not_You (series)

Erik has just finished helping liberate Genosha, and is still very scarred by his own time as a slave. He has no way to realize that in Westchester, 'slave,' means something more like, 'an indentured servant who has human rights and whose owner is responsible for their care and keeping to the terms of the indenture contract.'

So of course, he can't possibly exploit the beautiful boy he finds in his bed. Charles is extremely put out by this.

Civilised Nature by Tawabids

Genosha fights for its independence. Sebastian Shaw rules the burgeoning nation in all but name. Erik is an alpha politician second and a servant of the people first. And then he sees Charles, omega to the ruthless Shaw, and all his priorities change.

Your Faves are Problematic by JackyJango (series)

The Genoshan public knows the Professor and Magneto as veritable adversaries. As Mutant activists, Professor X and Magneto have rarely, or never, seen eye to eye on mutant issues and rights. They oppose and contradict each other even when they fight on the same side-- as rare as a blue moon that the occurrence is.

What would have been benign arguments with anyone else turn into raging wars when these two are involved. Their infamous debate in the Parliament on the Mutant Registration Bill, though a thing of the past, is still on the common tongue.

The press seems to love them; for when they share a screen-- or even breath the same air-- there’s no dearth of drama.

Shadows of the Past by pseudoneems, ximeria

Charles and Erik meet at a hotel in Genosha. Erik hiding that he is Magneto, one of the founders of the mutant nation. Charles running from his past, not to mention his gift.

Betrothed by TurtleTotem

Sixteen-year-old Charles Xavier just found out that his late father was the king of Genosha. That means he inherits the crown... and the spouse his father picked out for him, like it or not.

Heavy Crown by sebastian2017 (series)

Most people think being a prince is nothing but extravagant fun, drinking expensive champagne, and having no cares. Erik - or Prince Magnus Joseph Erik of Genosha, Duke of Carrion Cove, second in line to the throne, as he is more widely known - knows better. Being a prince means everything he does must be done in secret or face the scrutinizing eyes of the public.

Even sleeping with pretty-eyed science nerds at parties.

An Agreement Between Gentlemen by professor (series)

Erik Lehnsherr, King of Genosha, has arranged a meeting with Charles Xavier, CEO of Xavier BioCorp, to ask for his assistance in a delicate matter.

tumblr ficlets by ikeracity (chapter 68)

king erik has a crush on professor charles AU

Welcome to Genosha (king erik has a crush on professor charles remix) by Gerec

Professor Charles Xavier is the Keynote Speaker at the upcoming Mutant Education Conference in Genosha. He's excited about his first trip to the island nation, and even more excited that he might get to meet the King.

He has no idea what to make of the welcome he gets the moment he steps off the plane.

The One Who Rules by Gerec 

It's been five years since the Mutant Uprising, the powerful and ruthless General Magneto now the defacto ruler of the tiny island nation of Genosha. Though it remains a paradise of plenty, left relatively untouched by war, the safety and stability of the 'mutants-only' state remains in flux.

Devastated by the bombs Sebastian Shaw set off before his death, the human population outside Genosha has largely been decimated. The ones who remain struggle to survive with rapidly dwindling resources.

Adding to the uncertainty is the presence of the X-Men, mutants fighting Magneto and his Brotherhood for the rights of humans still living in Genosha, led by the General's former lover and co-leader of the Uprising, Professor X...

In Every World There Is You and Me by Gerec

“I will help you because you are Erik Lehnsherr and I am Charles Xavier. In every world, in any world - there is always ‘you and me’."

Post X-3: Erik Lehnsherr, powerless and without a purpose, finds himself mysteriously transported to Genosha, a utopian sanctuary for mutants. He meets his double Magneto who rules the island nation as King alongside his Royal Consort Professor Charles Xavier - the man Erik has loved and lost.

[valyrfia]

I’m happy for Ralph but I doubt it will do much for a sport tho. Still, no driver/recently retired driver will come out and I think everyone will just ignore it’s even happened unfortunately:(

Even though we still have a long way to go, it's so important when talking about our community to celebrate every single little milestone because they're signs of progress. This is something that would have been completely unfathomable even five years ago. Ralf and his partner would have only been able to seal their partnership in marriage in his home country of Germany from 2017 onwards, that's less than ten years ago. Same-sex marriage is still not legal in Monaco, nor Italy–two countries who are temples of motorsport.

Every step forward is a vital step. I am older than all same sex marriage laws. You simply didn't see gay people in media or in sport when I was growing up aside from a few who were always subject to the most uncomfortable jokes. We are making progress, we have made progress, and there is progress still to come. Ralf Schumacher also has the weight of his last name–there is a gay Schumacher in motorsports and there always has been. If you were a closeted driver or aspiring driver, imagine the burgeoning hope that would bring you?

[tobiasdrake]

Going underground now for the dwarven origins, beginning with Dwarf Noble. Let's hit up Orzammar, one of the last two surviving dwarven thaigs in Thedas.

So, right from the get-go, we have the Dwarven Faith codex entry. Dwarves consider themselves "Children of the Stone", which we now know to be literally true. They were born of the Titans.

Dwarves believe that they return to "the Stone" upon death. They practice ancestor worship, believing that their ancestors guide them through the unfolding of events.

Orzammar's best known for its Caste system, by which people are grouped into particular professions by blood inheritance. Wanted to be a soldier? Can't. You were born into Merchant Caste. Learn commerce.

There's something truly ironic about dwarven culture, in that regard. The Divine Right is so thoroughly baked into every orifice of their society. Merit defined solely by blood inheritance governs all walks of life.

Except the monarchy. (XD)

The King of Orzammar is an elected position accountable to the Assembly. Orzammar isn't a true democracy; The deshyrs who sit in the Assembly are all representatives specifically for noble families who do pass down power by blood inheritance. But it's still kind of amazing, in this culture, that being the child of the king doesn't entitle you to jack fucking shit.

Orzammar is a self-defeating paradox of a place. This is no less true of the ruling House Aeducan than of anyone else.

The Dwarf Noble draws their lineage from House Aeducan. Their governance dates back to the First Blight in 7205.

The irony of the Aeducan clan is that, despite Orzammar leadership thinking the Caste system is neato, their millennium-long monarchy didn't come from a Noble Caste family at all. One of the many contradictions that Orzammar politely ignores.

Originally, the other surviving thaig Kal-Sharok was the capitol of Dwarven civilization. Orzammar belonged to the Miner and Smith Castes. This would have been the state of affairs for between 3,000-6,000 years. Could even be longer.

The Veilguard timeline is a little fuzzy on when, exactly, the Evanuris tranquilized the Titans and inadvertently created both Blight and Dwarf. But Kal-Sharok was the capitol of the burgeoning Dwarven civilization until the developed trade relationships with the Tevinter Imperium, which would only be established in 6405 and would reign unchecked for about 800 years before the First Blight.

Somewhere in that 800 year period, Orzammar became the capitol in place of Kal-Sharok. This was done by Paragon Garal to give the Assembly more oversight over their trade relations.

For context, Tevinter had a trade highway that ran from their capitol Minrathous through the Frostback Mountains and down to southern Ostagar. We'll see more of that later. Since Orzammar is right up on the edge of the surface and even has a passage that opens out into the Frostback Mountains, it's perfectly positioned for trade with Tevinter.

This was kind of a big deal. So, centuries before the Blight, Paragon Garal moved the capitol away from the thaig that had been their capitol for millennia. Trade became a cornerstone of dwarven society.

Too bad about those dwarven traders though.

The paradox of Dwarven politics at work has decreed that dwarves automatically become Casteless if they ever go up to the surface. This is despite Orzammar being a centuries-long trading hub that's even more dependent on trade now that the Darkspawn have eaten the rest of dwarven civilization.

This is a point of contention within Orzammar, as Lord Dace here is attempting to change dwarven law so that

House Aeducan rose to power following Paragon Aeducan, though Aeducan was no Noble Caste dwarf. The way Paragons work is basically Dwarven Sainthood. The dwarves recognize you as a shining example for all dwarves to follow.

With the knock-on effect that Paragon-hood uplifts your family into Noble Caste.

So we should all obey the Nobles because their blood-inheritance says they know better than us. But also, anyone who knows better than the Nobles is made nobility so that we can continue to believe that the Nobles know better than everyone else. Make sense?

Aeducan was a Warrior Caste soldier on that fateful day. You know the day.

The day the Evanuris tricked the Magisters Sidereal into breaching the Black City and unleashing the Blight.

The dwarves and the surfacers disagree on how that happened.

The human Chantry believes that the Darkspawn came from the Black City in the Fade. They were a plague unleashed upon humankind as punishment for the Magisters Sidereal's hubris.

The dwarves disagree. They believe that the Darkspawn came from the depths of the earth. This is a practical belief rooted in the demonstrable fact that they emerged from the Deep Roads and overran dwarven civilization long before the surface had even heard of them.

They're both right. It was the Magisters Sidereal who breached the Blight's containment and released it into the world. It then poured upwards from the depths, possibly from the Titans themselves. Under the guidance of Dirthamen and his Archdemon Dumat - colliding with the Titans' children in the population centers they had built.

In fact, Paragon Aeducan even laid eyes upon Dumat once, describing her (high dragons are female, the mythology of the Old Gods is wrong) in the codex entry "The Blights" as a Paragon of darkspawn.

Can you imagine? The dwarves had never in history laid eyes on a dragon before Dumat. Aeducan had no idea what he was looking at. Only that it was terrifying.

No one had ever heard of the Blight until the day it crashed into the dwarven thaigs on its way to the surface, under the command of whatever this fucking thing is. A crisis the likes of which dwarven culture was not equipped to handle.

The loss of thaig after thaig after thaig was a failure of leadership. The dwarves were powerless to defend themselves because their leaders were too busy bickering in the Assembly over who to defend. Every noble house demanded the army protect their holdings above all others, leaving their military divided, aimless, and unable to stop as the Blight swept through them all.

The selfishness of nobility destroyed dwarven civilization.

Orzammar survived only because Aeducan sidestepped the politics and took charge of the army. He rallied the various Castes to provide support to the Warrior Caste, betrayed the dwarves' sacred hierarchy by disregarding the noble Assembly, and saved Orzammar. The last of the thaigs. (Except the other one.)

A vote was held in the wake of Orzammar's survival to determine if Aeducan should be made a Paragon. History recalls it passing with no dissenting votes, only one absentia. History does not recall, though the historian mentions in conversation, how the "absentia" vote came about: It was a vote of dissension, but the other deshyrs beating the dissenting deshyr to death on the Assembly floor for dissenting.

Politics!

This is how it goes. On paper, Paragons are a patch built into the system to ensure that the best and brightest may lead the dwarven people. In practice, Paragons introduce a whole mess of complications, which meet you the instant you step out of the Dwarven Palace and into the Diamond Quarter.

This is Bruntin Vollney and Scholar Gertek. Right outside the palace, they're having a public argument because Bruntin wants public records of Paragon Vollney being kind of a shitweasel stricken from history.

Vollney became Paragon by the slimmest possible margin and their ascension was mired in scandals, with rumors abounding of bribes, corruption, and blackmail. All of which is recorded accurately by history, much to Bruntin's dismay. He wants the truth wiped from the slate.

Because that's how nobility under the Paragon system works. When the ruling class derives power solely by historical remembrance of past merits, it creates a perverse incentive to only remember history in ways that are convenient to the ruling class.

In practice, the system uses Paragonhood as a built-in defense against having to reflect on the failures of their politics. Aeducan betrayed what the dwarves stand for and saved Orzammar where dwarven politics left nearly all other thaigs annihilated. For his radical actions and insubordinate heroics, they elected him King. They raised him up to Paragon status. And they learned absolutely nothing.

Oh, and they killed an Assembly member for disagreeing. Dwarven nobles are cutthroat. Just. As a natural order of business. Everyone expects treachery and murder in the noble class. Remember Vollney? If you side with the scholar against him, Gorim asks you this as a matter of course.

"Yeah, fuck that guy. Want me to have him killed in broad... whatever passes for daylight in our society?"

Sure, Gorim. I want him slit from crotch to throat and hung from a light fixture as a warning to others 'cause that's how dwarf politics work. You're the best, sugar 'stache.

Up to this point, they remain on the throne. King Endrin Aeducan is the governing monarch as of the start of Origins. With three heirs to succeed him: The eldest Trian Aeducan, the Dwarf Noble, and the radical youngest Bhelen Aeducan who fraternizes with Casteless.

Hi, Rica! She's just called "Mistress" in the Dwarf Noble origin but she's a part of the Dwarf Commoner origin. Bhelen is quite taken with her, despite their relationship being considered pearl-clutchingly scandalous by Orzammar standards.

Trian, by contrast, is a proper upstanding dwarven noble.

By which I mean he's a classist piece of shit. Trian is first in line for the throne (pending Assembly vote), which he knows quite well. And at any sign of disobedience from his sibling, he'll make sure the Dwarf Noble knows it too.

Trian also has opinions about Bhelen's dalliances with Rica. In his journal, he's noticed Rica milling about outside of Bhelen's room. So he accuses her of theft because her boobs are too big to be a "decent" woman's bust. And I quote.

"Must have been trying to steal something, or already had. Bosom seemed fuller than most decent ladies. Some jewels hidden in the bodice?"

What the actual fuck, Trian? He also suggests Bhelen should keep her confined to his room, like a pet.

Trian is a cruel, elitist, self-important piece of shit who would most certainly drive Orzammar to ruin if he became king.

The part where Bhelen frames the Dwarf Noble for committing the murder is a bit rude, however. Credit where it's due, though; Bhelen plans this assassination well.

He first tries to conspire with the Dwarf Noble by convincing them that Trian is plotting against them, and they need to get him first. Then he plants two of his men in the Deep Roads to accompany the Noble on their mission.

If you didn't buy into the idea that Trian was coming for you, Bhelen has Trian killed ahead of time and lets you find his body, just in time for you to be found with the body.

If you did, he plays you and Trian against each other, informing Trian that you were plotting to kill him and letting accusations and unreasonable tempers fly where they may.

If you still manage to be reasonable during that, one of his men has orders to open fire on Trian and his men, provoking a fight anyway. Bhelen's accounted for all possible scenarios here. It's very clever. Ruthless, pragmatic, and treacherous. But clever.

No matter which way you slice it, Bhelen cuts down both of his siblings and leaves himself and his radical politics as the (seeming) only potential heir to the throne of Orzammar. He planned his coup exceedingly well.

Though not so well that it escaped Lord Harrowmont's notice, but that is the plot for the Orzammar section of the main game proper.