#Class differences

[pratchettquotes]

"So that's all settled then?" said Verence.

Finally, Magrat's voice returned from some distant apogee, slightly hoarse.

"Aren't you supposed to ask me?" she demanded.

"What? Um. No, actually," said Verence. "No. Kings don't ask. I looked it up. I'm the king, you see, and you are, no offense meant, a subject. I don't have to ask."

Magrat's mouth opened for the scream of rage but, at last, her brain jolted into operation.

Yes, it said, of course you can yell at him and sweep away. And he'll probably come after you.

Very probably.

Um.

Maybe not that probably. Because he might be a nice little man with gentle runny eyes but he's also a king and he's been looking things up. But very probably quite probably.

But...

Do you want to bet the rest of your life? Isn't this what you wanted anyway? Isn't it what you came here hoping for? Really?

Terry Pratchett, Lords and Ladies

[bisexualseraphim]

USAmericans will literally live in a trailer working 3 jobs for $7 an hour surviving off gas station food and still call themselves ‘middle class.’

Here in the UK if you’re middle class you’re probably a neurosurgeon with a stable-barn and a mansion big enough to have its own name. US middle class is our working class.

Not got owt to say about it, just really fuckin weird innit. I’ve had a few USAmericans describe me as middle class and I’m like mate… I make half of what you do lol

EDIT: I have since been corrected on this!!! Please stop reblogging this without checking the notes first, I was quite wrong!!!

[easternpine]

Life gets in the way and thus my 2024 Mass Effect Big Bang project fizzles into a regular story. But... a trilogy! This is a story that's been living in my head and on my computer as little bits and bobs for a long time now. I was happy to finally have the excuse to write it. Description:

Ex-Alliance soldier, Jane Shepard, is out of work and down her luck when an old childhood friend, Gianna Parasini, comes calling. With Gianna’s help, Shepard high-tails it to the Citadel and begins a brand new life as a corporate investigator. But things quickly turn deadly as one of Gianna’s former colleagues is found drowned in the galactic capital.

Under the guidance of C-Sec’s special investigator, Detective Garrus Vakarian, Shepard and Gianna work to unravel a tangled knot of avarice, murder, and corporate corruption.

A Shakarian, No Reapers AU

There was nothing to weigh her down, not really. Two pairs of sensible shoes, a selection of shirts (black or gray) , three pairs of pants, one pair of brand new jogging shorts, socks, underwear, and the usual personal hygiene products: these were the things that Jane Shepard had brought with her onto the ship that had ferried her from Earth. She owned little in the way of personal effects. She had no use for sentimental things—no family heirlooms, no trinkets bought on holiday, not a single photograph committed to physical form. The only thing she’d packed besdies the basics was her Alliance service medal, a heavy, brassy thing that had never been removed from its original box, now shoved into a hidden pocket inside her rucksack like a forgotten, ancient talisman. Leaving Earth was not as regrettable as she had expected. Seven months she’d been unemployed, about the same amount of time since she’d finished serving her last tour with the Alliance, and she was desperate to do anything, anywhere, as long as it meant keeping her nose clean and keeping herself housed and fed.

continue reading the story on AO3

[thebigpapilio]

I want to get opinions on a thought from some of my favorite Mareach creators here.

@elitadream @akiiame-blog @palskippah

If you don't want me tagging you again, please let me know. I'll be respectful about it.

Make no mistake - Mario is great as Peach's knight/guard/et cetera. But what if he was - or at least started out - in some other "servant's position"?

Chef, waiter, janitor, doctor, mechanic, plumber, I have no idea what at the moment. But it helps him pay his and Luigi's college debt and keeps them afloat.

And then he (accidentally?) interferes with some political attack - perhaps a mercenary attack on a Mushroom Kingdom dignitary, if not Peach herself. Mario, being Mario, saves the day, and Peach insists on rewarding him.

"It really wasn't a big deal. My job is to serve you, principessa."

Peach insists on doing something to pay Mario back, but Mario is even more stubborn. Even after leaving Mario be, though, Peach can't get him his kindness out of her mind.

Mario wakes up at home a few days later and their house is paid off, as are his loans. Peach pretends she has no idea what happened.

[msfbgraves]

Cobra Kai 2.0

Something that struck me about the new Cobra Kai versus the Cobra Kai in the films -

Nearly every Cobra Kai member they focus on in the series is underprivileged. Hawk is disabled. Miguel is a poor boy whose family are immigrants. Tory is a fatherless poor caretaker of a sick mother and younger brother. Kenny is a poor black kid picked on by a bunch of rich white kids. Yes, there's Parker, but did he ever get his own episode? Aisha is a bullied black kid, though she's rich (which got her booted off the show).

The Miyagi Do's are the rich ones, the stable ones (no one we know of among them, other than Robby, has much hardship to overcome). Beautiful dojo and everything.

But that wasn't what the films were selling! The Cobra Kais were a group of mostly white preppy rich kids ganging up on one new poor kid, who, to some people in that Encino club, might still have counted as not-quite-white (if Aly was born around 1966, her parents will have been born around 1930-1940, and to those people, Daniel LaRusso would have been called a swarthy wop, guinea or dago by some people they grew up with, if they're too polite to use such language by 1983). Daniel definitely takes pains not to seem other to his environment even in 2018.

Sorry, but if your message is: "Cobra Kais are people too", why can't you simply try to win sympathy for preppy white kids? Why make Johnny into a blue collar worker? Nothing in his background suggests that. Why not make him a divorced, washed up, bankrupted investment banker? Why have Eli not simply be the vaguely Jewish kid who has trouble making friends? Really, if your whole raison d'être is "shitty rich kids are people too", why are you making it so that your protagonists are always fighting the rich kids? Who... aren't even shitty? Who did Samantha LaRusso ever hurt? And maybe there's Anthony, but he's barely in the show for three seasons.

Teaching poor kids to fight dirty because life can do you dirty is borderline justified. But The Karate Kid was about rich kids being taught to fight dirty and then taking all their advantages out on poor kids, because might makes right. Johnny, with his bike, and his preppy clothes, laughing at Daniel who has to sneak in through the kitchen to see his uptown girl. Chozen, the strong henchman to his insanely rich uncle, ganging up on the poor foreign boy. Terry Silver, making business deals with career fighter Mike Barnes. Humanise that all you like - but we also see what that looks like in the films, and that's Aly. The rich girl who really likes this new sweet kid, and doesn't care his mother is probably too outspoken for her parents' liking, and doesn't care her girlfriends don't much care for him. Aly, who is nothing but polite to Mr. Miyagi (compare that to Terry Silver's openly racist taunts), and only breaks up with Daniel when he jumps to conclusions (once about the class difference, another time when he was openly jealous about her talking to other guys). Show why, as taught by Johny, Cobra Kai 2.0 is good for those kids, or indeed show Johnny figuring out why it isn't and trying to make a change.

Because a poor kid learning "No Mercy" because they're trying to survive in a world that is trying to crush them is a very different setup than teaching a rich kid with all advantages in the world how to go around and pick on people, which is what Kreese was doing. The closest we get to that in the show is Hawk. It indeed isn't pretty and his redemption is entirely rushed, but even Eli, vaguely Jewish kid with a scarred face and trouble understanding social cues, had it much harder than, say, Tommy, who simply liked to win fights with his friends, if that meant nearly beating a young Newark boy to death after a school dance.

[lacewise]

Any understanding of class that derives from mid-20th century Britain, United States, or Canada is probably wrong. And that’s a problem because that’s where most people get their ideas about class.

If you look further back, middle housing (townhomes, condos, apartments, triplexes, quadplexes, etc) are where the middle class historically found themselves living (usually, there are exceptions). Suburbs are mostly new and they are extremely wasteful. The idea that people lived in single family homes or even semi-detached housing with large green outdoor spaces (as opposed to shared courtyards) just strikes me as very, very silly and very, very American.

A better, more honest, more accurate description of the decline of the middle class is not just the disappearance of middle housing—it’s how much middle housing has deteriorated qualitatively. We no longer consider that apartments can be big enough to raise families in. Nor do we consider that they should be well-made enough to hold up to decades of uninterrupted housing.

“Luxury” condos have nothing on early-20th brownstones of the working class. And that’s the problem.

I am having trouble reconciling the same people who rightly said that density over space are now claiming that the birthright of the middle class is the ownership of implied single family homes, presumably with spacious yards. No.

There is no class worth establishing that pines for the trappings of the rich. And there’s no need to establish it anyway, it already exists. That’s the upper middle class.

I cannot believe people are saying that waste is the only sign of being middle class that matters again. But, what’s worse, I can believe people are buying it.

Anyone who says that is no better than the TikTokers who insist that $500 Shein hauls are a necessity and excess clothing (to the point of never wearing the same outfit twice) is a human right.

[clemsfilmdiary]

Saltburn (2023, Emerald Fennell)

1/21/24

[bandomfandombeyond]

if the Great American North is so Progressive, and all the poor, dirty, stupid Southerners should be crawling all over each other trying to escape, why (when the average rent is already 3-4x what it is in the South) do Northern landlords still collect security deposits and first/last month's rent? why aren't they making it easy and appealing for poor Democratic voters to leave the South, if it's such a lost cause?

oh, is it because class and access to capital is a more powerful societal division and motivator than where you live on a map? *gasp* scandalously shocking! totally new information!

[pratchettquotes]

"Tea's up, sir," said Polly. Tea was an amazingly useful thing. It gave you the excuse to talk to anyone.

Terry Pratchett, Monstrous Regiment

[ukiyozora]

Stardust and Pixie

pairing: satosugu

synopsis: three times shoko does not empathize with lord satoru and lowborn suguru and the one time she does. or exploration of the romantic relationship between gojo satoru and geto suguru through the eyes of shoko, the pixie.

rating: m

status: complete

[easternpine]

Taking Off, Chapter 2

A Femshep & Parasini BFF, Shakarian, No Reapers AU

As she continued to gripe, the datapad she’d been holding slipped free from her fingers and clattered to the floor. “Shit…” Awkwardly, she tried to squat, but the fabric of her skirt strained against her muscular thighs, and it felt like the garment might rip in two. She stood up again, tugging at the hem. God, she hated these things. The skirt kept riding up, and she found the feeling of free air between her legs unsettling. At least trousers moved with your body; slim skirts were just cages for your legs. She could have sworn the masochist who designed it had looked at their breakfast one day and decided a sausage casing would make for a fantastic piece of fashion. Shepard peered over the reception counter, but there was no one there. Where the hell was Marianne? Why was no one manning the front desk? Attacking from another angle, she contorted at the waist while bending her knees and reached toward the floor, but her thin heels were making balance impossible. Her fingers brushed the edge of the pad and she grunted, struggling to gain purchase on the slippery casing. Just then, she heard the doors slide open. A pair of scuffed combat boots appeared at her feet, each one host to two toes. “Here, let me,” said a distinctly turian voice. Three long digits scooped up the datapad and held it out to her. “Oh…” Shepard’s head shot up. A rangy turian man dressed in a C-Sec uniform was looking down at her with curiosity. His face was a hard-bitten rock gray—typical for a turian—but his eyes were ice blue, a striking but unusual feature she’d never seen in one of his kind. He wore an expensive looking visor over one of his eyes, all but obscuring it. She continued to stare as she regarded the blue markings across his face, and she wondered which colony they were meant to represent. The turian cleared his throat and gestured with the datapad. Quickly, she straightened to standing and smoothed her skirt down at the front with a frantic yank. “Thanks,” she said, taking the datapad back.  “You know, I’ve never understood how you ladies can stand such restrictive clothing,” he said with casually. “Seems awfully impractical. Maybe it’s unfashionable, but I like to be comfortable when I’m working,” Shepard bristled at the stranger’s judgment. Nevermind that she hadn’t exactly chosen the clothes, or that she agreed with his point wholeheartedly, but it was awfully presumptuous—not to mention a bit sexist—for him to make the comment to her face. “I’m sorry,  I don’t believe we’ve been introduced,” she said with a strained smile. “Detective Garrus Vakarian, C-Sec Special Investigations. I’m guessing you’re….” His mandibles fluttered slightly as he narrowed his eyes. “Jane Shepard?” “How did you know?” Shepard stood with her feet apart and crossed her bare, sinewy arms. The turian eyed her up and down. “Just a hunch..."

Read the rest on Ao3

[loserlovesattention]

Blood of Fire Chapter Three Jacaerys Velaryon x Servant Reader

Chapter Summary: Invited to play with the Princes yet again, You bring Helyn along to enjoy the fun.

Additional Tags: @number-0-iz @akinatrix​

Warnings: None

Pairing: Jacaerys Velaryon x Fem Reader

Gifs:  1) Jacaerys swordplaying (terribly lol)  2) Your best friend and fellow chambermaid Helyn

Chapter 3 

The following day Helyn recovered miraculously, returning to the maiden's chamber practically skipping. 

“Did you miss me terribly?” She asked, throwing herself on to your bed. “I shall admit while I wasted away on the brink of death, it was your sweet sweet memory that kept me alive!”

“That is a shame, I had prayed for The Stranger to take you quickly. Perhaps he couldn’t handle your mouth either.”

She brought her hand over her heart, feigning a hurt expression. 

“My love! Why must you wound me so!”

When she reaches out to pull you into an embrace, you dance out of her grasp. 

“Well, I am glad you are feeling better. Yesterday was very dull without you.” 

“Was it now? From what I hear, you’ve already replaced me with a pair of dashing princes!”

Your mouth drops open from the shock. As far as you knew Helyn had been locked away in complete isolation until this morning, with only a single physician allowed to see her. Even then it was sparingly; to deliver soups and potions. How on Earth did she know already?  

She laughs at your expression. 

“Rule number one about this place; if you do anything out of the ordinary someone will notice. Rule number two; news travels fast here! So tell me Y/N, since when were you and the royal princes so chummy?” 

You roll your eyes at that, returning to your previous task of fastening your stockings in place. Helyn had confirmed that she was ten years old, two years your senior,  so you honestly didn’t know how she managed to stay so immature. Perhaps she was an only child with no siblings to check her? Or maybe she was an orphan starved of attention? It occurred to you then how little you actually knew about her.

“Helyn, who are your parents?”

Her eyes bulged at your question, caught off guard. And for a moment she looks confused, before she smirks, sly as a fox. 

“You’re trying to change the subject, aren't you?”

“No, I’m just-”

“You are!”

She jumps to her feet, pointing. Irritated,you push her arm down.

“No, I'm just curious. You’ve never talked about your parents. Or your siblings. Or where you're from-”

“No, I suppose I haven't…I could tell you my life's tale, if I care to. Only if you tell me what happened!” 

It was only fair, you supposed. If you had been the one who had taken ill, and Helyn was the one playing with the princes, whom she never interacted with before…You would want an explanation as well. Besides, it wasn't like yesterday's events were excitingly scandalous. As Prince Jacaerys explained, the princess had overlooked such breaches in protocol before. And at this point it was almost expected that the young boys should play with other children- regardless of rank. 

“Y/N.”

The firm, cutting voice of Lady Jeyne Waters stops you short.

“Your training is not yet finished, if you recall.”

“Yes ma'am.” 

Before you turn to leave, Helyn fixes you with a look that seems to say: This isn’t over.

                                                          ~*~*~

Your lessons consist of standing for hours on end, pouring countless goblets of wine, and mending holes in several pairs of socks.

If Lady Jeyne disapproved of yesterday's behavior, she doesn’t let it show.

“Now pull your thread all the way through- don’t pull too tight!”

You follow her instructions, carefully, before continuing your criss cross pattern.

“Once you get to the top of the tear, move your stitches closer together.”

When the fabric is connected by the thread, you gently pull the string to close up the hole, and tie it off in a small tight knot. 

“Good, very well done Y/N. Your stitches have vastly improved! Perhaps tomorrow I’ll have you mend one of the princesses skirts.”

You remember those grand, flamboyant black gowns you’ve seen the said princess wearing. With their long trains, scaled fabric and delicate embroidery… You doubted if you would be able to handle it. What if you messed it up?

“Do not worry, you’ll begin small. And sooner than you think, you will be sewing the most magnificent dresses.” 

 She holds up her own work- a long stretch of spectacular blue satin trimmed with silver lace. It reminds you of a peaceful flowing river, a calm open sky and the precious jewels you’ve seen depicted in portraits around the castle. 

“Is that for the princess? I don’t think I’ve ever seen her outside of her house colors.”

Lady Jeyne nods, threading another needle. You can’t help but marvel at how graceful her old hands move. Even when she sews, her fingers seem to dance- light and airy- just above her fabric. Like a dragonfly that skits just above a water’s surface. Someday, you wished you could sew like that.

“Indeed, the princess is a very proud lady who represents her house well. But she always makes an exception for Mother’s Eve. It is her favorite holiday I think. She’s never made such a fuss over Maidens Day or Fathers Feast Day. Not only will there be beautiful gowns, but a grand feast, tournaments, masques and dancing!”

“Truly?” Back home, Mother’s Eve was celebrated in a simple manner. The fishermen and farmers only had to work half the day, while the women spent their hours cooking. If the weather was good enough, neighbors brought their tables and stools outside so the village could celebrate together. Prayer to The Mother Above was given. All the mothers and grandmothers were honored by having the first pick of all the food. Then the feast would end with a great toast to The Mother and the countless blessings she had granted you all. 

“Yes, by then we will have many noble ladies and young gentlemen to watch and serve. Won’t that be exciting?” 

The reminder hits you again. No, you will not wear a pretty gown or dance or give your favor to handsome knights. Just like how you will never swing a sword, ride a dragon or marry a prince. You remembered your mothers voice all those weeks ago; “The Gods made and shaped the Targaryens to rule, we were made and shaped to be ruled.”

The nobles were born and bred to take and enjoy. You were born and bred to make and endure. That was the way of things.

When you finished mending all the socks, Lady Jeyne dismissed you swiftly; now fully absorbed in her needlework.

Of course Helyn was waiting for you outside the chamber.

“How was her majesty today?” You attempt, trying to be polite. 

“She is most well. But last I checked, we were not speaking of her grace this morning.”

There was never ever beating around the bush with Helyn. She always seemed to speak bluntly and to the point, a quality you both liked and disliked. It annoyed you at times like this, but her intentions were pure. She was just genuinely curious- and had every right to be.

You take her arm in yours, as you make your way to your usual playing spot on the South side of the tower. 

“It wasn’t such a big deal as you're making it to be. The two princes simply invited me to play with them because they needed a third player. So we played a couple of chasing games in Aegon's Garden until supper. I haven’t seen or spoken to them since.”

“So they approached you? How?”

You explain the whole tale to her; you venturing into Aegon’s Garden on your own. Discovering Prince Lucerys hiding in a bush whilst playing with his brother. Prince Jacaerys inviting you to their very boring game. You showing them how to play a real game. Princess Rhaenyra interrupting from the balcony. And the two princes running away once the game was over- you winning of course.

“Wait, The Princess saw you? And she wasn’t upset?”

“No, as I said, she just wanted to remind us to finish before supper. Prince Jacaerys explained that they do this all the time. Apparently they played with the serving children often back in King's Landing. There was no one else for them to play with.”

“So you played with them, and didn’t let them win?”

“No…?”

She broke away, exasperated.

“Y/N you can’t just best them! They are your betters! You have to let them win- at everything!”

“I am?” 

When you recalled yesterday's events, the princes didn’t seem too upset at their loss. Jacaerys was irritated to say the least, but bid you a pleasant farwell when he departed. Lucerys was quite cheerful, perhaps that someone bested Jacaerys at something, and was disappointed when they couldn’t play another round.

“Just think of how embarrassed they may feel if others found out a girl had beat them at something. And not just any girl, a serving girl!” 

Surely not. The boys had neither looked or acted embarrassed…Or perhaps they were hiding their shame? Trying to pretend the loss had not affected them so? What if they told their mother? What would the most powerful woman in The Seven Kingdoms do if she felt her sons had been slighted? 

“Oh no…” You bury your head in your hands when the shame rushes up to greet you.

“Shh shh,” Helyn tries to soothe. “I’m sure it is not that bad. Perhaps they forgot it by now. And seeing how you’re still here, the insult was not taken to heart!”

Everything in that moment is so suddenly overwhelming; you begin to cry. You had only been trying to make friends! You had never meant to offend or embarrass anyone! You were lonely, and thought it had all been fun. Oh how wrong and foolish you were!

For a while you do nothing but sob there in Helyns lap, as she tries pitifully to reassure you.   

“Pardon me, Y/N?” 

Your head shoots up at the unfamiliar voice. Before you is a gentleman usher whom you have never seen before. Judging from his fine fitted uniform, he must be of the higher ranking household. 

“Y-yes?”

“Their Royal Highnesses Prince Jacaerys and Prince Lucerys, have requested your presence in The Eastern Courtyard.”

“What for?”

“Swordplay it appears,” He says smiling gently, “They have an assortment of wooden swords and shields with them.” 

You look to Helyn, who appears just as surprised and dazed as you do. 

“Perhaps… They were not offended after all?” You venture.

                                                   ~*~*~

You end up dragging Helyn with you, against all her protests:

“They asked for you, not me! You will offend them!” 

But you do not mind them; “That is what you said earlier! Besides, I can’t leave you out this time. It will be fun!”

You get many queer looks from the passing maids and gentlemen, but you don’t care enough to look. Too excited with the promise of what may come. Far from humiliated, the princes had invited you to swordplay with them! Was this the beginning of a new tradition?

The Eastern Courtyard was quite bare, save for the two young boys trying on their padded doublets. So there would be swordplay! Or some form of hand to hand combat!

You thought of Visenya in her armor, with her Valyrian Steel sword. Once, she too had trained in swordplay on these very grounds! You may never be a Queen like she was, but you had this in common at least. Did she look on with pride or shame at that fact, you wondered.

“Y/N!” Prince Lucerys shouts at your approach.

“Did you hear? Mother has sent for a new Master At Arms for us! He's coming all the way from Pentos!”

Pentos? You couldn’t point to where Pentos specifically was on a map, but you did know it was across The Narrow Sea. 

“Why Pentos?” You ask, “Forgive me, but The Princess could pick anyone from anywhere across The Seven Kingdoms.”

“Six Kingdoms actually,” Prince Jacaerys corrects. “We have yet to conquer Dorne. But Mother says The Pentoshi warriors are not just descendants from The Andals, but The Valyrians as well. Some have also been trained in Braavosi water dancing. So instead of just learning regular fighting techniques we’ll have ‘variety’, whatever that means.”

You bob your head obediently. 

“Then I am very glad, My Prince.”

“You can call us by our nicknames, they are a lot easier to remember!” Prince Lucerys says, making Helyn huff and shake her head.

“And who is this?”

“Prince Jacaerys, Prince Lucerys, this is my friend; Helyn.”

“I’m Luke!” Lucerys bounds over excitedly. “And that’s Jace!”

Stunned, Helyn looks to you, before making a slight curtsy.

“It is an honor to be presented to you… Luke?”

The young Prince nods enthusiastically, before kissing the back of Helyn's hand like how a proper lord would greet a noble lady. She looked discomfited, as well as she might.

This is all still new to her, like it was to me, you remind yourself.

“Well I am glad you brought a friend. Things are better in equal numbers.” Prince Jacaerys, nay, Jace said. “Today we had hoped to test out our new equipment.”

Helyn gasps at that, horrified. 

“You mean to try your swords on us?”

“No, for you to try our swords on us!” Luke explains. “Our shields and armor are new designs- supposed to protect from even the strongest blows! Maester Raff said so!” 

The princes dawn their helms and breastplates, before giving you their blunted swords. 

It's so big, you marvel. Thicker and heavier than the twigs you used to fling around carelessly. In fact, holding it for too long makes your arm tire and shake. 

“Criston Cole used to say the sword needs to be your arm.” Luke instructed you, “You never drop or tire from swinging your arm!” 

“Alright. Hit me!” Jace commands.

You and Helyn share a look, before you swing the sword down hesitantly. When it connects, it practically bounces off of Jace’s chest making a loud hollow sound. 

“You call that a blow? Try again!” He booms.

                                                        ~*~*~

So you swing, hurl, stab and poke at him until your arm gives out from exhaustion. Helyn does the same with Luke, in a nervous, subdued way. Regardless, neither of you succeed in knocking the boys down. 

This quickly turns into the princes facing each other, attempting to accomplish the same feat. You cheer Luke on, telling him to aim low- use his height to his advantage! Helyn, more at ease, cheers for Jace. Encouraging him to use his strength and endurance. 

This goes on for quite some time, until Luke finally falls, Jace's sword at his throat. 

“I yield!” Luke calls, breathless. 

“Let’s do something fun now!” You suggest, picking up Lukes discarded sword from the ground. The weight is not so bad now, that you’ve let your arm rest a while.

“Such as?” Helyn asks, warily. 

“Aegon and his Queens!” You say, “Queen Visenya rode a dragon, and wielded a sword!” You brandish the blade as opulently as you can. 

“Yes!” Luke roars, practically jumping up from the dirt. 

“But there are four of us!” Jace protests, “Who is Lucerys supposed to be?”

“I want to be Aegon!” The younger boy whines. 

The two boys argue back and forth, while you move closer to converse with Helyn.

“You don’t have to play if you don’t want to. You can always watch or-”

“And forfeit playing Queen Rhaenys? Fat chance! She was no warrior like Visenya, but she was still a Queen in her own right, and rode a dragon! Besides, I have no interest in combat.” 

You reach forward to squeeze her hand. I’m glad you’re included, you want to say.

“But you are always Aegon, or Prince Aemon, or Durran Godsgrief!” Luke protests, “I want to be the hero for once!”

“And you can!” Helyn announces, “Lucerys will be Aegon The Conqueror. Y/N will be Queen Visenya. I will be Queen Rhaenys. And Jacaerys can be Orys Baratheon!”

Orys Baratheon? Of course you knew the name Baratheon, they were the Lords of Storms End just West of here. You knew they had Targaryen roots… Perhaps Orys was that very Targaryen ancestor? When you recalled those bedtime stories about the conquerors, your mother made no mention of him… Or perhaps she had, and you just blocked it out. Too hyper focused on your role model Queen Visenya. 

“He was a fine, distinguished warrior.” Helyn supplied, “Who defeated The Storm King Argilac! Without him The Targaryens would have never taken The Stormlands!”

For a moment, Jace ponders this. Before sighing and nodding reluctantly. 

And thus the game begins, you and Helyn kneeling at Lukes feet;

“My dearest brother and King,” Helyn starts. “The Seven Kingdoms are ours and ripe for the taking. Where shall we begin?” 

Luke gapes at you two briefly, before gaining his composure and squaring his shoulders. 

“Sweet sisters, I am deeply moved that you grant me this great honor of being your King. And I swear to you, The Gods as my witnesses, that I will honor your trust, loyalty and devotion. You shall look back on this moment with great pride!” 

Behind you, Jace scoffs. 

You stand and turn to face him. 

“Baratheon, you should kneel before your king!” It is like you can feel the long dead Queen within you, filling you up with courage. “Unless, you would call yourself a turncloak?” You reach for the hilt of your sword, remembering all of Jace's previous movements. He was bigger and stronger than you, but you were faster than him. If he made to hit you, you could easily dodge and aim low-

Grudgingly, Jace lowers himself to his knees. 

“You may rise my dearest family!” Luke directed.

“For I will need you on your feet when we attack! We shall all land at the mouth of the Blackwater River, and conquer all the lands there! The highlords will fight us, but they stand no chance against our might! Visenya shall ride Vhagar, Rhaenys shall mount Meraxes, and Orys will command our troops!”

The three of you then run about roaring, growling and shrieking- imagining waves and waves of armored soldiers burning below you. Jacaerys swings his sword back and forth against one of the practice dummies found in the yard, before knocking it down onto its side. 

“Victory!” He cries. “The land is yours My King!”

Luke immediately comes to a halt, dropping his arms back to his sides.

“Y-yes. It would appear so.” 

When it is clear he is at a loss for what to do next, Helyn takes the lead yet again. 

“Well, a proper King should have a proper coronation! Visenya, if you please.”

Your mothers voice came to you again, an echo from the past; “And there In the Aegonfort, in front of their new subjects, Visenya placed a crown on Aegon's head and Rhaenys proclaimed him King of all of Westeros.”

Of course you did not have a crown on you, nor the resources to get one yourself… So yet again you use your leather belt; fastening it tight around Luke's head. 

“All hail Aegon, First of His Name, King of All Westeros and The Shield of His People!” Helyn cried out, before kneeling once again. You and Jace kneel as well chanting; “All hail King Aegon!”

Night was falling already. A number of servants had just come to light the torches. Soon this must end, you realized, and the princes would retire to their royal apartments. While Helyn and you would return to the Maiden's chamber to begin the day all over again.

But we still have a little time… 

You jump to your feet, waving the practice sword above your head.

“You may call yourself King brother, but we still have Six Kingdoms to claim! Where to next?”

[heretherebedork]

The way that Hai Yi is trying so hard to be romantic and sweet with Johnny and Johnny is practically going out of his way to misinterpret it because the fancy dinner is just too expensive for him and too much for him to understand the meaning behind it when all he can see are the dollar signs... Ooof, what an interesting class distinction, the way that money can change your thinking.

[suguruslut]

Silver Spoon

by suguru_slut

part 7 of DC fanfics

fandom: Batman (All Media)

relationship: Jason Todd & Bruce Wayne

words: 7,690

tags: class differences, issues with food, cooking lessons, family dinners, developing relationships, robin!jason todd

summary:

Jason Todd went from shoplifting Pop-Tarts and scrounging for food in the garbage of Gotham to eating three homecooked meals every single day and being served tea in priceless porcelain cups. Jason gets that this change was for the better, but how much time will it take to convince his body that this is how normal people eat? How long does he have to "risk his life" sneaking snacks from the kitchen before he can make himself fully understand what Bruce said to him the first night Jason came to the manor?

"What's mine is yours, Jason."

Read it on AO3!!

[pollyssecretlibrary]

"A Duke Makes a Deal", by Matilda Madison

I read this book from NetGalley in exchange for a fair and honest review

This is the first book of the "Gambling Peers" series ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️

“A Duke Makes a Deal” is a slow burn historical romance about Clara, whose father is a very rich self-made man. Even though she’s the only daughter and the heiress, she’s not eager to marry into the ton. But she is infatuated with a viscount and she’s expecting an offer of marriage from him. One time at a party, she finds out that this man is a gambler who takes the betrothal for granted and that he is entitled to wager her fortune and her person at the gaming table. So without anyone noticing she witnesses her supposed fiancé losing the game and giving her away to the Divorced Duke.

Silas, the duke, pays a visit to the family to apologize and make up for her humiliation. At first, Clara is reluctant to ever see him again, but Silas who bears a big trauma from his experience with matrimony and who deals with severe social anxiety, finds Clara’s presence soothing and encouraging, therefore, to continue being in her company, he asks for permission to court her and eventually marry. Once married, Clara will have to fight ghosts and traumas in order to make Silas understand that they’re a match made in heaven, and being the strong woman that she is, she will succeed, one step at a time.

Matilda Madison is a favourite of mine. Her writings appeal directly to my heart with a beautiful prose and a very natural, soothing and slow pace. I hate when the plot’s pace isn’t balanced, there’s no need to rush when it is not appropriate for the characters development, and Silas needs a lot of growth out of his past. He’s reluctant to love so Clara finds a man that is hot in the night but cold in the daylight and she refuses to continue that way. It won’t be easy given that the house where they’re living is also occupied by the metaphorical ghost of the wife, a detail that reminded me a lot of Daphe du Maurier’s “Rebecca”, without a Mrs. Danvers, thankfully. Still the feeling of being second best, an imposter or not good enough is very relatable and calls to the readers’ own insecurities and feelings, we’ve all been there at some point in our lives after all.

Clara is adorable. She feels understandably insecure but she worries about Silas, about her friend Holly, about her own situation. She’s a caregiver but she would do anything for Silas. The duke on the other hand is stiff and not controlling towards Clara, but he controls himself. He’s never relaxed he never lets go and explores his own wishes and wants with his wife…. He’s determined to to have a marriage of convenience, a friendship for life when actually he only needs Clara to show him what love is and how to love without limits.

[clemsfilmdiary]

Triangle of Sadness (2022, Ruben Östlund)

2/24/23