#Crown's Spies

[chaotictoon]

You should see me in a CROWN

[schwarzys-stimblog]

Agent Curt Mega stimboard with physical stims, and crown stims!

x x x

x ! x

x x x

requested by @chompisatheatrekid!

[spark-circuit]

everywhere i go, i see his face

[letztehexe]

I’ve finally had the opportunity to watch Crown Handler 3, and it was soooooooo good.

The cliff hander was just 🤯🤯 and I don't have any idea what will happen next.

I'm going crazy, insane here. SCREEEEEEAMMMMM

[archivyrep]

Archivists on the Issues: Classified Records, Archives, and Fictional Depictions [Part 2]

Archivists on the Issues is a forum for archivists to discuss the issues we are facing today. Today’s post comes from Burkely Hermann (me), Metadata Librarian for the National Security Archive and current I&A Blog Coordinator. There will be spoilers for each of the books, animated series, films, and other media he will be discussing. This was originally published on February 7, 2023 on the Issues & Advocacy WordPress blog.

continued from part 1

In the episode "The Underground Tennis Tournament: The Campbelldon", Loid examines a file of his target, a man named Cavi Campbell, who has a painting in the basement of his mansion. As the story goes, the painting was originally owned by a general who had compiled a dossier of explosive top secret information which could tip the scales and cause possible cause military conflict if revealed, and the painting has a code revealing the dossier's location.

Classified records have often been depicted in popular culture. For instance, there is an episode of The Crown about classified records showing Duke Edward VIII collaborating with Nazis. Such records are also major part of the Spy x Family series. The protagonist, Twilight (voiced by Takuya Eguchi), poses as a father named Loid Forger, with a wife and child. He is tasked with a secret mission  to keep two countries from beginning a war. As a result, he is often passed information through a network of informants, spies, and others, or is given mission briefings by dedicated agents. The information he receives often includes classified records. Another pertinent example is the 13-episode anime, Gargantia on the Verdurous Planet. In one episode, "Deep Sea Secret", the protagonist, Ledo (voiced by Kaito Ishikawa), demands declassification of the record. What he learns causes an epiphany. It results in him questioning what he thought about the world and his life's purpose, causing a mental breakdown of sorts.

There are other examples, apart from the tongue-and-cheek U.S. Navy recording studio named "Classified Records" in The Simpsons, which included subliminal messages in their songs which encouraged people to join the Navy. For instance, classified archives of the CIA are shown in an episode of the TV series, Alias. Furthermore, classified, and restricted, records are a major part of the animated adventure series, She-Ra and the Princesses of Power, which has many archivy themes. In one episode, Mara, the previous She-Ra, learns that the Heart of Etheria project is classified, with Light Hope worrying about information being accidentally shared with Madame Razz. In many others, records are only accessible when specific words are spoken, or specific people are detected by computer systems. The same could be said about the records inside the data archives of the World Organization Of Human Protection which is shown in the Totally Spies! episode "The Yuck Factor", or the "healing center" for Pearls known as The Reef, which is a structure used to create, repair, or modify Pearls, shown in the Steven Universe Future episode "Volleyball". Both undoubtedly contain restricted or classified records.

In Star Wars Rebels and Star Wars: The Clone Wars, two animated series, there are records which can only be accessed through magic or other means. As such, they are classified, as a result. Accessing secret, and classified, records is a major plot point for live-action films such as Sneakers (1992), The Hitchhikers Guide to the Galaxy (2005), and My Fellow Americans (1996). In other cases, like in Joker (2009), the records are even stolen. In the latter film, the records clerk is implied as an impediment to protagonist Arthur Fleck, as are the bureaucratic requirements which require a signature from Fleck's mother, before he can take the file.

Samantha "Sam" Cross, a certified archivist who was part of the SAA Issues & Advocacy News Monitoring Team in 2018, has highlighted this on her blog, Pop Archives. She notes Carol Danvers (later becoming Captain Marvel) examining likely classified information in Captain Marvel and Loki trying to use his manipulation and charm in the Loki TV series to get classified files from a female character credited as an archivist. She also writes about a character in the Danganronpa game, Byakuya, who "read and study the classified information" in an archives-like room and states that many of the documents shown in Federal Bureau of Control, in the video game Control, are redacted, and classified. [7]

Other pop cultural critics in the library and information field note other examples. For instance, librarian Jennifer Snoek-Brown, known as the creator of the site Reel Librarians and real-life librarian at Tacoma Community College, noted classified records featured in Rollerball (1975), Soylent Green (1973), and likely ones in Tinker Tailor Soldier Spy (2011). [8] Elsewhere on her blog, she pointed out similar themes in Mercury Rising (1998) and WarGames (1983).

The over twenty popular culture examples described in this post only scratch the surface. There are as undoubtedly many more films, comics, and series which featured classified or restricted records. The examples noted in this article do not always feature archives, however, as some creators confuse archives with libraries. To add insult to injury, archivists are often not present, resulting in the characters, who have no archival training, to go through the records themselves. Very few depictions in popular culture reflect the current reality of classified records within archives. Hopefully, this changes in the future.

© 2022-2023 Burkely Hermann. All rights reserved.

Notes

[7] Cross, Samantha. "Archives in the Movies: Captain Marvel." Pop Archives, Aug. 20, 2021; Cross, Samantha. "Archives in Video Games: Danganronpa: Trigger Happy Havoc." Pop Archives, Jan. 19, 2021; Cross, Samantha. "Archives on TV: Loki." Pop Archives, Jun. 24, 2022; Cross, Samantha. "Archives in Video Games: Control." Pop Archives, Aug. 20, 2021.

[8] Snoek-Brown, Jennifer. "A round-up of library, archives, and reel librarian scenes in MCU’s Phase Four TV series (so far)." Reel Librarians, Aug. 24, 2022; Snoek-Brown, Jennifer. "Reel librarians and archivists in 16 sci-fi films." Reel Librarians, Mar. 11, 2020; Snoek-Brown, Jennifer. "Reel librarians in ‘Rollerball’ | Analyzing the 1975 original film and 2002 remake." Reel Librarians, Feb. 1, 2017; Snoek-Brown, Jennifer. "Reader poll of runner-ups, Fall 2016: ‘Soylent Green’ and the Books." Reel Librarians, Nov. 30, 2016; Snoek-Brown, Jennifer. "First impressions: ‘Tinker Tailor Soldier Spy’." Reel Librarians, Jan. 23, 2012.

[denimbex1986]

'An acclaimed director and two rising young actors headline the '2023 new movie All of Us Strangers, a supernatural drama that has already earned a bit of buzz following its screening at various fall film festivals.

Searchlight Pictures is behind All of Us Strangers, which comes from BAFTA-nominated writer/director Andrew Haigh, and features some high-quality talent on screen as well, including Andrew Scott, Paul Mescal and Claire Foy.

Find out everything you need to know about All of Us Strangers right here...

All of Us Strangers plot

Based on a novel by Taichi Yamada, Haigh wrote the script for All of Us Strangers. Here is the official synopsis for the movie:

"One night in his near-empty tower block in contemporary London, Adam has a chance encounter with a mysterious neighbor Harry, which punctures the rhythm of his everyday life. As a relationship develops between them, Adam is preoccupied with memories of the past and finds himself drawn back to the suburban town where he grew up, and the childhood home where his parents, appear to be living, just as they were on the day they died, 30 years before."...

All of Us Strangers reviews

The majority of critics who have already seen the movie are fans, with the movie having a 93% "Fresh" score on Rotten Tomatoes as of December 23. What to Watch is no different, our All of Us Strangers review describes it as "heartbreaking, but essential viewing."

Here is a quick sampling of some of the things other critics have said about the movie:

Maureen Lee Lenker, Entertainment Weekly: "All of Us Strangers will break your heart — but it just might mend it too."

Tomris Laffly, The Wrap: "A sublime masterpiece. A rumination on grief and love, Haigh's poignant and understated ghost story is one of the best films of the year."

David Rooney, The Hollywood Reporter: "Prepare to be wrecked."

All of Us Strangers cast

The leads of Adam and Harry are played by Andrew Scott and Paul Mescal, respectively.

Scott is best known for his role as the "hot priest" in Fleabag, but he has been catching people's eyes for a while now, with memorable performances in Sherlock, Oslo and Catherine Called Birdy.

Mescal is one of the biggest rising stars in recent years thanks to his work in Normal People, The Lost Daughter and Aftersun, the latter of which earned him a Best Actor Oscar nomination. All of Us Strangers is his second movie coming out in the final months of 2023, as he also stars in Foe.

Playing the ghosts of Adam's parents are Claire Foy and Jamie Bell.

Foy broke out with her as Queen Elizabeth in the first two seasons of The Crown. Since then she has gone on to star in First Man, A Very British Scandal and Women Talking.

Bell has been appearing in movies since he was a kid in Billy Elliott. Some of his more recent notable work includes Turn: Washington's Spies, Rocketman, Without Remorse and Shining Girls.

All of Us Strangers trailer

The talents of the four actors leading All of Us Strangers are on full display in the movie’s trailer...

All of Us Strangers awards

We're keeping track of all the major end-of-year nominations and awards that All of Us Strangers earns. Check out what the movie has racked up so far below:

BAFTA Film Awards

Outstanding British Film (nominee) Best Supporting Actor — Paul Mescal (nominee) Best Supporting Actress — Claire Foy (nominee) Best Director — Andrew Haigh (nominee) Best Adapted Screenplay (nominee) Best Casting (nominee)

Golden Globes

Best Performance by a Male Actor in a Motion Picture Drama — Andrew Scott (nominee)

Gotham Awards

Outstanding Lead Performance — Andrew Scott (nominee) Outstanding Supporting Performance — Claire Foy (nominee) Best Screenplay — Andrew Haigh (nominee) Best International Feature (nominee)

British Independent Film Awards

Best British Independent Film (winner) Best Director — Andrew Haigh (winner) Best Lead Performance — Andrew Scott (nominee) Best Supporting Performance — Paul Mescal (co-winner) Best Supporting Performance — Jamie Bell (nominee) Best Supporting Performance — Claire Foy (nominee) Best Screenplay — Andrew Haigh (winner) Best Casting (nominee) Best Cinematography (winner) Best Editing (winner) Best Makeup & Hair Design (nominee) Best Music Supervision (winner) Best Production Design (nominee) Best Sound (nominee)

Film Independent Spirit Awards

Best Feature (nominee) Best Director — Andrew Haigh (nominee) Best Lead Performance — Andrew Scott (nominee)

London Critics' Circle Awards

Film of the Year (nominee) Screenwriter of the Year — Andrew Haigh (nominee) Actor of the Year — Andrew Scott (nominee) Supporting Actress of the Year — Claire Foy (nominee) Supporting Actor of the Year — Paul Mescal (nominee) The Attenborough Award: British/Irish Film of the Year (nominee) British/Irish Performer of the Year — Paul Mescal (nominee) British/Irish Performer of the Year — Andrew Scott (nominee) Technical Achievement Award, Casting (nominee)

Los Angeles Film Critics Awards

Best Leading Performance — Andrew Scott (runner-up) Best Screenplay (winner) Best Editing (runner-up)

Andrew Haigh movies

British director Andrew Haigh may not be a household name with audiences, but his work has been some of the most lauded amongst cinephiles in recent years. Here is a look at his list of previous credits for feature movies:

Greek Pete (2009) Weekend (2011) 45 Years (2015) Lean on Pete (2017)

He has also directed episodes of the acclaimed TV series Looking, as well as its TV movie, and The OA.'

[chibirisa20]

Oh my god, they were coworkers...

[rockingbytheseaside]

✦ When someone tries to imitate you or take your place 

Pierro, Capitano, Dottore, Pantalone 

(tw: general mentions of violence and intimacy, swf. Old ask suggested by the lovely @pandaquick, better late than never)

Your position in the Fatui is a much more personal and delicate matter. You are not just some high-rank advisor or soldier idling within the Zapolyarny Palace, nor can you be defined as another Fatuus. You are someone of a different echelon - a Harbinger’s beloved, safeguarded with the utmost honor conferred by Her Majesty the Tsaritsa. It is no secret your significant other would utilize a whole army to protect you, but what happens when someone, in their foolishness, forgets that?

✧ Pierro was the first to notice that someone tried to imitate you. An individual of high status endeavored to emulate your work and areas of expertise. Subsequently, this individual began to adopt aspects of your appearance, from hairstyle to clothing. However, the breaking point occurred when this foolish person attempted to purchase an identical jewelry brooch to the one you frequently wore. It was a similar piece, one gifted to you by Pierro.

Except that imitator missed one important clue - Pierro orders you custom-made silver adorned with deep-cut sapphires that would put the Tsaritsa’s crown into shame. A one of a kind piece.

This cheap attempt to imitate you and usurp your spot was what forced The Jester to abandon his silent observation. His gaze has long caught the envious glances directed towards you whenever you accompanied him on meetings, whenever he linked his arm with yours, whenever he generously kneeled beside you to put his coat over your shoulder and keep you warm from Snezhnaya’s cold - the same individual, always seething with resentment. Thus, it was time for the Director to silently act. 

He kept tabs on this person via a network of spies, gathering intel on their behavior and intentions. And with the most skilled spies raised from the House of the Hearth, it didn't take long to have a whole pile of evidence right on his desk. And with the simple snap of his fingers, he effortlessly orchestrated the apprehension and subsequent banishment of the culprit, sparing no unnecessary words. Hearsay will not be tolerated in the Fatui, but to see some lowly scum tarnish your reputation by cheap mimicry then it’ll be his responsibility to weed out. 

“Pierro, dearest, What's wrong? You seem so deep in thought.” - Your gentle murmur broke The Jester's train of thought. As he lay in bed, your head resting on his chest and his arm draped over you, he reminded himself that he was in the comfort of your love. He doesn't have to mull over the bloodied ordinances when he feels the warmth of your skin underneath the covers.

“Apologies, my divine. It seems my mind was drifting to troubling thoughts. But it no longer matters when you're here.” - Thus, he gently planted a kiss on your forehead and tucked the covers around your body which harbored marks of his devotion earlier that night.

✧ Il Capitano clutched the hilt of his sword in resolution. Something was wrong and he could see it. The Harbinger was in the middle of his morning spar with you, a regular training session where you and the Captain warm up as a routine. He stood in a defensive stance, his movements fluid yet measured as his sword received blow after blow from your weapon. You, on the other hand, moved like a silent tempest, your strikes precise yet frustratingly urgent.

It was unlike you to be so unsteady, noted Capitano to himself, especially when fighting. Despite the unspoken patience, an undercurrent of concealed despondency and anger laced your body language. 

“Alright, my dear, I can feel your unease. What troubles your heart?” 

You shook your head, panting as you almost faltered. You insisted on continuing the training session, but it was clear your brave facade was almost crumbling. 

“It would be foolish to continue. And I care about your well-being. Please, confide in me, my beloved.”

You tried, you really did. But before you know it, your lips pursed into a thin line and a flood of tears escaped the moment you shakily lowered your weapon. Now the Captain was on full alert, rushing towards you and gently supporting you before you could hide your tearful face in shame. With an arm around your trembling form and much persuasion - you relented and shared the source of your frustration. A newly enlisted soldier had undergone thorough training under the tutelage of Il Capitano, and their impressive advancement was unmistakably evident in their unwavering dedication. However, this individual began to devote more time to the Captain, delving into military intelligence and climbing the ranks. You genuinely felt joy for the new recruit, truly. Yet in timid humiliation, you had to confess you felt obsolete as if your power alone wasn’t enough for a harbinger of his caliber and ranks.

“Ah, my dear, you are far from weak. My time with the trainees is merely a duty, a part of my job as the 1st Harbinger. But when it comes to you, my dear, your might and wisdom are incomparable. You don’t deserve my ranks, you deserve my life laid before you.”

But whatever gentle words of affection were coming out of the Captain, your next words of truth made him halt at once. “... At least, that’s what the recruit told me when we spoke. That I'm weak.” 

“...What did you say?” 

The gentle armored hand on your shoulder now tightened in restrained anger, fury flaring within his chest. Capitano now understood: your tears, your sudden insecurity, your doubt, your silence… It wasn’t coincidental. This recruit who was so conveniently rising in the ranks made sure to aim not just for the Harbinger. Specifically, you; to sow self-doubt onto you and hinder your precious relationship. Someone was deliberately bullying you.

You looked up at Capitano’s dreadful silence, asking him what was wrong.

“It… seems, my dear, someone has crossed an unforgivable line. One that would cost them their life dearly. And I am to blame for not noticing when harm and doubt came your way. I must amend this transgression for your forgiveness.”

You blinked in response, not having time to comprehend the severity of his words; It’s hard to respond when your beloved suddenly kneels and bows like a knight on duty. In the end, Capitano ushered you to take a day off and let your mind rest easy.

The next day, Capitano returned home early but was eerily silent once more. He stayed with you the whole day, like a hawk overlooking his nest, his arms crossed but his touch gentle. Although he claimed nothing was wrong, you received news that certain recruits were gone, and any upcoming soldiers that would come into his care would receive even stricter training from now on. That day, you wondered why some Fatui soldiers feared talking to you. Not to mention the armor around Capitano’s knuckles seemed faintly red-tinted.

The Fatui organization was a constant battle of powers and ranks. But to climb the ladder and meddle with the life of The Captain was a personal offense, one that would result in quick and unapologetic bloodshed. Nevertheless, he made sure to remind his soldiers about that. 

✧ When one of the folks working under Il Dottore as a lab analyst approached you, you didn’t expect them to call you names so suddenly. You stood there, confused and apprehensive at the sudden barrage of insults from the stranger. But they explained:

“You don’t do anything when helping during research, you know! I don’t even know how The 2nd tolerates you when you’re this useless. I’ll tell you what, quit your special-treatment act, and don’t come back to the lab. The Doctor is better off with someone of his level of intellect.”

You didn’t fight or defend yourself, you didn’t even insult the assistant. Instead, you smiled simply  - “Very well, I won’t. Good luck.”

That day, you turned and left. The frustrated lab analyst was left in confusion but thought they succeeded in eliminating the only obstacle left to get closer to the elusive yet powerful Harbinger. After all, what the hell do you even do at his lab? You exchange a few words with Dottore, maybe sporadically point at what to do, and remain seated in the back, resting as if you were the Tsaritsa herself. The audacity. How come Il Dottore never kicked you out?

Well, it didn't take long for this person to find out.

The next day, naturally, Dottore couldn’t find you when he proceeded with work. You were neither at his study, nor at the lab, nor at your favorite corner of the library. It was barely noon, and receiving your warm greetings was his routine. And the Doctor always follows the agenda.

“Where are they?” 

His question was brief but pointed, and his subordinates knew exactly who he was referring to. They could sense the tension in his voice. The only individual privy to the reason for your absence smirked smugly and responded.

“Hmph. It seems they decided not to come, Lord Harbinger Dottore.”

That was their first mistake because The Doctor caught on to the haughty smirk coming from his new analyst.

“And you know so certainly how?” - he quickly gestured to a nearby Fatui servant with a flick of his wrist. “Send in servants to check in on my behalf. I wasn’t informed. If my darling is feeling tired or unwell, bring their preferred refreshment immediately, and ensure it is warm.”

However, this displeased the new lab assistant, as even while you were away, Dottore was still dotting on you as if it was his second nature to do so while he was busy with work. Thus, they cleared their throat and spoke up:

“They… barely accomplished anything in your presence, doctor. So I advised them to leave, to which they agreed. Pretty straightforward, s-sir.” 

“Oh? Did you, now” - A burning rage, like never before, flared up within Il Dottore. With clenched teeth and a rigid jaw, his voice oozed with venom. But any seasoned lackey working under Dottore knew that this was the calm before the storm. Because soon, an echo of shattering vials and slammed objects would ring out from the laboratory. And in your absence, nothing would prevent the doctor from showing a bit of despotism. 

Much later that evening, after everything was set and done, the servants informed him of your whereabouts. Il Dottore briskly made his way through the Zapolyarny Palace to find you. Spotting you tucked away in a secluded nook of the palace, he hastened over, anxious to ensure your well-being, fearing you might’ve withdrawn due to the influence of some blabbering lowlife. 

“Dear! There you are… No one has the right to speak to you like that ever. Are you alright? My dearest, why did you not tell me immediately?! I would’ve-”

Dottore’s frustrated rambles come to a halt when you place a finger on his lips to shush him. You didn’t look despaired, in fact, you looked calm - “Zandik? Did you have another tantrum in your lab while I was absent?”

The doctor gulped, remembering his place. Calming his senses, he placed his hands on your waist and ushered you closer to his arms.

“... Perhaps. But I had to. How could I be certain that no one had harmed you? Why did you comply with that impudent fool? You should’ve gone to me first.”

“Well, it was unpleasant to hear the insults, sure. But…" - you glanced apologetically and a knowing smile returned to your lips. "I knew you'd find out and deal with the issue very quickly." 

✧ You and Pantalone were an odd couple. You didn't hail from a rich background, nor were you well-versed in the art of business and finance. You were more proficient in adventuring, your travels taking you to all sorts of journeys and commissions, a polar opposite from your beloved Pantalone. This led to raised eyebrows among the aristocrats of Snezhnaya. How can the richest man of Teyvat, who lives and works in prestige, be associated with such a simple person as you? For some, this gave the impression that they had a better chance of winning him over.

Thus, once upon a night, Pantalone was invited to a luxurious soirée. Here he was, clad in his finest suit, silver rings complementing his equally expensive optics. But to the Regrator, the jewelry adorning him was the least of his concerns - because you were the most precious gem in this gala. You accompanied him, although reluctantly, feeling out of place amidst the grand assembly of extravagant guests and the languid orchestra.

“Pantalone, do we have to…? I know you said this is not a business party, but there are so many guests already lining up to talk to you.” 

“Oh do not fret, my sweet. Evening galas like these are where the real negotiation and connections entail. But I know the details bore you, so I promise we won't stick here for too long. Besides, I get to introduce you as my one and only!”

That's exactly what you were afraid of. As a company of some esteemed noble ladies adorning elegant gowns, you had difficulties matching Pantalone’s polite smile. Overwhelmed by the scrutinizing gazes of some guests, you politely excused yourself to the bathroom. Pantalone was concerned, thinking of following you, but that was exactly what the guests wanted. 

You spent a long while by the hallway alone, trying to stabilize your breathing. The muttering of guests enjoying drinks and strolling was faint, but you could hear some people nearby:

“How can the 9th be with someone like them…? Surely it’s a joke.”

“A charming, rich man like him, and he can have anyone he desires. Yet he wastes his time on a simpleton?”

“Someone was definitely in it for the Mora, maybe he hasn’t seen real class. Quick, let’s go talk to him while he is alone.”

You stood with your back to a wall, and for the first time, uncertainty crept in. With fists clenched by your side, you reprimanded yourself that you are not alone. You came here with your significant other - and he, above all else, knows that gossip has no place in your shared private life. Hence, gathering up your courage, you raise your head high and strode back into the gala.

Pantalone, unfortunately yet expectedly, was surrounded by the same foul-mouthed nobles who wished to impress him. They prattled on about his financial success, while ladies fanned their folding fans and stood too close for his comfort. While they humored him, The Regrator cast hurried glances around the gala in search of you. Where are you?

“Lord Harbinger, may we offer you more champagne? I am sure this expensive bottle is up to your taste.”

The 9th attempted to hide his frown at the woman's tone, his stomach unwilling to ingest any drink some excessively elaborate name. “No thank you, I’d rather decline. I am waiting for my dear. I promised her a dance later this evening.”

“Oh, please sir, I insist. The night is young and there is plenty more for-” 

Before the woman could continue, your voice cut through the air; calm, yet unmistakably firm. “He said no. Simple enough to understand.”  

A hush fell over the gathered guests, the weight of your words settling like a sudden gust. Only Pantalone beamed with a genuine smile. “Ah, dear! There you are,”. The Harbinger was about to step back towards you, when the same lady suddenly blocked his path, her back facing him while her tone edged with defiance.

“I beg your pardon, but I’m afraid the question is directed towards Lord Harbinger Pantalone. I am sure you wouldn't know the pleasure of tasting a 500,000 Mora champagne from Fontaine.”

You recognized the snark in her tone directed towards you, and you couldn’t deny the anxiety twisting in your gut as eyes narrowed in your direction. However, with a shake of your head, you reminded yourself who you truly are and simply said: “Sheesh, lady, you spend that much on a drink that tastes worse than sparkling water? To each their own, I presume”

Her smile vanished. The guests stared in stunned silence, but it was Pantalone’s genuine laughter that pierced the tension. The sound was rich and real—because only he knew how adept you were at humbling an overconfident aristocrat with a dose of blunt truth. That’s how Pantalone managed to push through the crowd and circle his arm back around your waist, leaving the astonished onlookers behind.

“Ah dear, you’re a savior. I apologize I dragged us into this unpleasant company…” - he confined to you apologetically as you two walked away. “You always knew how to be sincere in your honest way.”

“It’s not like I meant to pick up a fight…" - you sighed. "I simply couldn't bear the humiliation, Pantalone. I'm aware that some people give me strange looks when I'm with you. They regard me as if I'm some peasant standing next to a powerful Fatui harbinger. That I'm nothing. That's why I couldn’t just hide, I had to step up to defend myself.”

“Oh, darling… My sweet, precious darling.” - The two of you left the manor that hosted the soiree, the chill night breeze muting the faint sound of guests and replacing it with a symphony of cricket noise from the garden nearby. Pantalone's fingers intertwined with yours.

"You are not just 'nothing' - you're my everything. You did not come from riches, and neither did I. You of all people know that. Would I really hold respect for some rich fool who didn't know an ounce of hardship when Mora was all they had since birth? No, dear, I wouldn't."

With a tender hand, he rested his palm on your waist, gently guiding you along the cobblestone path as if leading you into a slow waltz by garden roses in the night.

"Besides, you should never be ashamed to seek out my help. Although I must admit... Your tone earlier - oh my. Use it on me more often, darling. I wouldn't mind." 

[probablybadrpgideas]

So, the way I see it, there are 5 types of lore in your game.

There's what you might call basic lore, which is just normal information players need to know about the world - elves exist, we're on a terraformed Mars, people get powers thanks to aliens. This tends to not be that interesting, it's just basic stuff. No-one hugely cares about them.

Then there's pragmatic lore, which is lore that's mostly there to determine what people can or can't do. "The lich's phylactery is the kings crown" or "the state has spies everywhere". This is also usually fairly boring. Related is narrative lore, which is things like "we have high tensions with the klingon empire" or "the vampires are massing under one ruler" - lore that is intended to set up a plot. This is only interesting dependent on the plot its setting up happens, otherwise its just pointless.

Then there's awesome lore, which is thing like "this land was founded by eternal dragons!" or "magic is drawn from Lucifer's chains!". Lore for the sake of lore, big setpeices and cool reveals and such like. And they can be interesting, but they can also be really annoying if the players don't find them as cool as the GM does.

Which is why I advocate the fifth kind.

Shitty bullshit lore.

Shitty bullshit lore is things like "Elven woman love children's toys. They're Lego Lasses" or "Oh, gold pieces detonate if you have more then ten in your pocket at once, did no-one mention that?". It's lore whose function is designed to grind the story to a halt while your players beat you to death with hammers. It's lore as an active weapon to use against the rest of your game group.

You should put as much as it in your game as possible.

[lazyjellyfishcreation]

batman AU where everything is the same, exept that the Al Ghuls are the official royal family of the soverain city state of Nanda Parbat.

Like, its a very small country, but a powerful one and absolutely fuckall is known about their royal family, or the nation itself bc it's impossible to send spies inside without never hearing from them again. Nobody, exept for immidiate family even realizes that Damian is an actual crown prince of an actual country.

Like, just, him, on twitter. and then someone makes a joke about him and the way he is so overly formal in public. And Damian is like, 'yeah, I'm representing my whole country here, I'm the crown prince of my nation', and the person on twitter is like...

'Wat?'

And then Dick comes in the comments like. 'Look up the royal liniage of Nanda Parbat before you embarras yourself, I am begging you.' que a small twitter freakout bc holy shit, the youngest Wayne kid is actual fucking royalty, also, apparently Brucie Wayne fucked a princess, what's up with that?

the consequences this would have. Imagine this. They're at a gala, and IDK Black Mask shows up to rob/kidnap/kill them. The hired security never stood a chance. Bruce is there and is already making plans to slip out, and appear as batman.

interestingly enough, Damian is not making similar plans.

Damian just waits.

No more then two seconds later, at least 12 shadows crash trough the roof and absolutely massacre everyone there. No mercy, just murder, before making a protective ring around Damian, who is still completely cool and composed.

The cops try and make a stink about the 2 dozen dead henchmen and the dead Black Mask, but Crown Prince Damian just calmly walks over and tells commissioner Gordon that these were his body guards, and are therefore allowed to do these things if they judge it to be in favor of the crown prince's safety.

Nobody can really argue with that.

Two days later, at school, there are some upperclassmen who are being bitches, and are like. 'Where are your bodyguards now?'

'Just because you can't see them, doesn't mean they're not here.'

And a red dot appears on the boys forehead.

I just think it would be really funny if Damian Al Ghul was a genuine prince, in an official, international way. PS.

Even better if the Al Ghul's adopt Jason along the way, and Jason just, straight up also becomes a prince. He's not blood related tho, so he's still in line behind Damian, even though he is the oldest.

That would be insanity. After the Black mask fiasco, Jason just orders the shadows around like. 'okay, after we're done here, escort the crown prince to the secure location.' or whatever.

Someone films it. It goes viral.

People are like; 'what the fuck, why can you order them around like that.'

And Jason is like; 'I am the second prince, therefore, by tradition, the General. The Nanda Parbat fighting forces are under my command.'

and all of twitter is like; ????????

Do you see my vision here???

[yandere-wishes]

Hi!! Just wanted to say May I request Yandere Capitano with a reader that’s like “omg you love me? No worries girl I love you too🤭” and doesnt mind his yandere tencedies? she is like really chill!

̩̩͙❆ Anon I tried to answer your ask as best I could but totally forgot about the reader being chill part and kinda made her a bit crazy. I LOVE it when the reader is also unhinged, There's something so delicious about crazy intercepting crazy.

̩̩͙❆ I wrote something similar here: Ice on Ice

｡ ₊°༺🧊༻°₊ ｡

̩̩͙❆ He's salt in the wound. a delicious itch that slithers beneath the skin and nips tenderly at your veins.  

̩̩͙❆ You try to shy away from his kisses, to fear the metal and frost. But instead, you get lost in his scars, fresh and old, raw and weathered. Your fingers trace his jagged lines, nails picking at the cicatrix pealing away the eschar. He only pulls your hand to his lips laying fervent kisses across the palm.

̩̩͙❆ Capitano runs his lips along your neck, inhaling your scent as you revel in his metallic touch. "You should be scared" he chuckles, "Most damsels fear the knight, fear things that are wartorn." His breath hitches, teeth digging into soft skin leaving kisses and claims. Your only reply is a wanton moan.

̩̩͙❆ Somewhere behind you, a body writhes with a final breath before going limp.

̩̩͙❆ Capitano likes to play the role of the vigilante knight. Fine. You'll play the role of the sweet damsel, the valiant darling. You let him kiss you like he's trying to kill, like he's trying to preserve. Wartorn things are not known to be gentle. You appreciate the fact that at least he tries.

̩̩͙❆ You'll kiss him goodbye at the door while hiding sadak knives behind your back. His lips bruise yours, teeth biting your lips raw marveling at the sweet taste of your crimson essence. He doesn't want to go, doesn't want to spend a moment apart from you. But he must obey his queen, he must follow the frozen path. You wait until his silhouette disappears into the immortal snow before turning away and closing the glacier door.

̩̩͙❆ Knights and spies. Swords and Knives. Killers and killers. All of it just sounds like 'lovers' to your jejune ears. Maybe it's the eternal cold that sets into people's hearts, maybe it's the human nature to kill first and question later. Regardless you've come to learn that your lover has many enemies staggering around Snezhnaya. People who wish to see Capitano's helmet resting by a marble tomb.

̩̩͙❆ You extinguish those who plot against him, those who scheme in shadows against the crown. There are none foolish enough to attack him outright. But they prepare his demise in the dark, a hundred arrows pointed at his back. Posion-laced cocktails served at a mandatory banquet. You've learned to hide amongst the shrouds, to leave nothing behind but fatal wounds that won't stop bleeding. You've learned to protect what's yours...

̩̩͙❆ Oh, sweet darling, protector of the knight.

̩̩͙❆ His returns are becoming all too sweet, you can't remember when you started awaiting him at the door, heart in your hands, dying for a cold kiss from a cold man.

̩̩͙❆ You jump into his arms once he opens the doors, Capitano laughs twirling you as he muses over how much he's missed you. You push up his helmet eagerly devouring his lips as he squeezes your body closer relishing in your sweet scent and the fullness of your fragile body beneath his steel fingers.

̩̩͙❆ "Tell me how you slayed them. Tell me about the gore and the way the sun reflects off your red-marred sword" Capitano spears no details, sweet intimidation tactic to keep you in line. Carnage drips from each word, as you peel away his armor, kissing every new piece of revealed skin. Running your tongue inside his fresh scars. You straddle his lap working nimble fingers under his armor pulling away the iron and letting it clank against the floor.

̩̩͙❆ You push him down roughly onto the bed, enjoying the way he hisses and squirms from his broken bones and wounds pushed open. You love him like this bruised, bones still unmended, scars still gushing out blood. You run your fingers over his biceps as he begins to lay kisses across your neck. Fingers sinking deeper into the plush of your thighs.

̩̩͙❆ You paint scars upon his back as his lips peck and bite your hips and chest. Teeth pulling your flesh as he glides his fingers across your spine, enjoying the view of you writhing and moaning under his icy touch.

̩̩͙❆ "I love you" he whispers, a forbidden prayer. Delineating the shell of your ear with his lips. "I shall burn the world for you, my lady, kill any who try to pry you away from me" You cuddle closer never able to fully repeat his words. 'I love you' you long to say, instead you settle for sinking your teeth into the flesh over his heart, and biting until his blood floods your mouth.

̩̩͙❆ I love you, I love you, I love you...

[inamindfarfaraway]

Okay, but for all the debate you could have about who's the better spy, it would be funnier to pick Owen.

MAJOR SPIES ARE FOREVER (Owen's show) SPOILERS

His story is that he was one of the best spies in the world... until he got badly injured on a mission because of the recklessness of Curt, his partner - both professional and romantic, secretly because it was the 1960s - and then Curt - again, his boyfriend, the love of his life - left him for dead assuming he already was. And because Curt had insisted on blowing the building up, he was probably injured more by the explosion and debris. So he's in a really bad state, physically and mentally.

And he concludes from this hugely traumatic experience that the current system of having spies, who are flawed, fallible, unpredictable individuals, be the only thing between the masses and various evil and/or destructive forces is kind of stupid and bad and just gets more people hurt than it helps. He becomes utterly disillusioned with the intelligence organizations and their ideals. They betrayed him. Curt betrayed him. So he betrays them right back. He joins a developing evil crime syndicate and plots to take over the world with advanved survellaince technology that will make spies the people, as a concept, obsolete. The internet, essentially. He wants to make the internet in the 60s run exclusively by bad guys and obliterate privacy. He does a lot of awful things in a new identity, including copious amounts of murder, aiding Nazis and torturing Curt who believes that he's dead, all so that "there won't be any [intelligence] agencies" anymore.

He. Hates. Spies, at least in their traditional form. He scorns and looks down on everyone else in this poll.

Please, please vote for this dead love interest/messy tragic villain because he would hate to win. He does not want to be competing, he has much better things to do, and it would rub salt in his wounds to be celebrated specifically as a servant of the institution he not only disowned, but actively strives to kill. And what is Tumblr good for if not torturing fictional characters?

Spy Tournament: Round 3

[kopfkino-o]

Sorry but the potential patterns in ACOTAR does it for me. Like you’re telling me this:

One sister and one brother. Night Triumphant and the Stars Eternal. The Leaders. The Monarchs. The Crown.

One sister and one brother. The Lord of Bloodshed and Lady Death. The Warriors. The Commander and the Valkyrie Reborn. The Mask.

One sister’s best friend and one brother. A Valkyrie and the Warrior. The Priestess and the Spymaster.

Makes “more sense” than this:

One sister and one brother. Night Triumphant and the Stars Eternal. The Leaders. The Monarchs. The Crown. “Love me”.

One sister and one brother. The Lord of Bloodshed and Lady Death. The Warriors. The Commander and the Valkyrie Reborn. The Mask. “Touch me”.

One sister and one brother. Death and the Lovely Fawn. The Spies. The Eyes and Ears of the Night Court. The Harp. “Sing me”.

Like, please at least be honest. One of these is a piece that doesn’t fit. And the right piece is rather obvious.

[punk-in-docs]

A song of rage and salty waves: part I

— Emperor Geta x reader (Salacia)

— 2.5k words

— Read all parts here: Part I — Part II — Part III — Part IV — Part V

Summary; You were raised outside of this Rome. Born into peace. To know of fathomless deep seas, and skies so big, they wrapped around your whole sight. The way that at night all you can smell are lemon trees kissed by salt. The jasmine plants wound around the white walls of the villa. Salacia. And now you are sent to Rome for your father in the Senate. There you will catch the attention of Geta; in all the wrong and darkest of ways— any reblog and comments are greatly appreciated 💙💙💙

TW!! some dub con/ threat/violence/basically forced marriage/forced smut situation/Geta is such a vile human being/Macrinus is villain sorry denzel ily

You’re imprisoned in Rome.

You certainly didn’t come here of your own free will. Your father had tugged you here from Corsica. Employed clever charm with letters and schemes from his high position in the senate.

As the role of your sex; you were born to obey.

He sent you imported silken stolas the colours of cornflowers or lazurite, with gold fibulae at the shoulders. Gem inlaid jewellery, rings to decorate every finger, and earrings the sway. A golden net for your hair. Wheedled you into coming to join him. Sending servants to travel with you and take heed of your every comfort.

He made sure you dined on plump fresh fruit. Seafood of lobsters and crabs. Drank wine so rich dark it looked black.

You despise it. The stone pillars and temples. And gods of old. Eyes watch you everywhere. See you. Follow you.The governing heat and noise and sweaty heaving mass of all forms of life.

You were raised outside of this Rome. Born into peace. To know of fathomless deep seas, and skies so big, they wrapped around your whole sight. The way that at night all you can smell are lemon trees kissed by salt. The jasmine plants wound around the white walls of the villa.

Salacia. The ocean nymph and the being of your name. Crowned with seaweed in your hair. Sea foam dripping off your fingers. Ripped from your home, an isle by the sea, at the whim of another.

Imprisoned here in this cold marble city. A fish out of water. Gasping dry on the shore.

Pulled inland and stolen away. You can’t hear gulls or waves anymore. It sickens you. Heart pangs that throb for home.

When you arrived, pulled back your folded palla down to your shoulders. He welcomed you with open arms and fondness. Wrists linked in gold cuffs. Tugged you to his chest and embraced you warmly. Hissed in your ear - abrasive like harsh sea spray - spies are everywhere.

He needed you close by. For reasons you had yet to fathom.

You dined like spoilt deity’s. Breads and wines, fish, fruits from far regions fattened by the suns heat, and succulent meat roasted in sweet cassia spices on a spit.

He had urns of flowers - picked by the servant - placed in every room. Lilies, juniper branches still bearing dark fruit, lavender, oleanders.

Companions join him and he is boastful of you. A nubile creature offered placement at a table of old muddled men. He introduces you to trusted friends and advisors in the senate.

One man in particular takes keen interest as to your recent arrival. His name was Macrinus. Man of information and resources. Dealt in cunning and cruelty though you found him sincerely charming. Your father watched you with a desperate eye.

Macrinus bore a smile so dazzling and blinding it made you dizzy; made think of the sun god. Apollo and his light cast across golden wheat fields. Notes of fine music. He sipped his wine slow, as he learned the flavour of your name. Where you came from. Understanding the rolling sea foam in your veins.

There’s a game to be held at the coliseum. He will have your father as his guest - and you by a very pretty extension. He nods at you; his eyes glimmer like pooled liquid gold in the half lit dark. It almost makes you feel safe.

They dine and drink into the small hours. Yet you slip away.

You watched this awful city out your window that night in your silk dress the colour of night time tidal waves. The air is stale. Carrion to you. Hot. Full of dust and sweat. Here, It smells like mulberry trees and a green garden waiting for blessed rain.

You couldn’t hear the sea. Or your sisters. Your mothers humming as she wove cloth and mended clothes. And you wept.

Salt found in your tears to be your only sacred comfort of home.

~

You are soft to this hard stone city. The coliseum is magnificent. As large as it is those who hold their powerful fists over its rule. Clutched in gold. Fine for the rich. Deadly for the slaves and warriors thrown into the pit at the whim of others. Met with carnivore teeth and sand and death.

The senators, generals, and the rich merchants watch from their perch, up among the gods they serve, presiding in shade and clothed in perfumed silks and jewels. Ladies and men both.

Your hair took hours to fasten in its current coiled style. Plaited and weaved. Your dress is the colour of the softest blue shore. Your servant lavished your arms and fingers in golden finery. A serpent cuff coiled around your arm. Skin draped in lemon oil because it’s the small piece of Corsica you carry here with you. Serenity to push against this place of gore, butchery and death.

You find yourself seated here amongst giants. Macrinus is seated one side. Your father the other. He fondly lays his hand across yours in gentle touch.

His palm is damp. Gold rings wet.

His face looks haggard with age. The lines by his eyes more prominent. Rome is poisoning him. The golden apple just a fingertip shy of his reach. St Bartholomew flayed and stripped of skin piece by piece. Schemes and plots lay thick in his mind like rot. Sweat beads down across his brow and the thinning salt pepper of his hair.

He says something to Macrinus that you’re too absorbed to hear. It’s low. Dragged through a growl. He appears unmoved, with a slow flick of his eyes to you. Watching this finery and loudness devour you. Your eyes so full wide and round. Salt and innocence entwined.

You all rise when the emperors pass by, Geta and Caracalla, who stride in, garbed in gold and cloaks. Come to take their rightful place at the mouth of the box where you are seated.

They are like twin suns to the Roman people. Lion gold hair kissed by fire. They burn and twist and shine with it. Make noises like gold coins that clack when they move. Strung in riches and golden crowns of olive leaves and branches.

Together they make you think of Romulus and Remus. Raised rabid by wolves. And they certainly make an impression. You’ve heard tale of the voracious nature of the blood sport they all but live for. Faces limned in the glory of gore.

The crowd cheers for them. They nod and wave but it appears barbed. The games begin with a wave of applause and a regal hand.

Caracalla twists and casts an eye in your direction. Seeing new meat.

The way you sit sedately and can’t cast your mind into the butchery and violence happening below. The clash of steel. The hollow squelching cries that proceed death. The spill of viscera and the scatter of brain matter from split heads.

Each new gash or split in skin made them smile. The taint of blood. Metallic sour. Spilling of offal and exposed bone.

He tilts his head like a clever wolf. Eyes darken. His sneer as terrible as a skulls. He leans across and whispers something to his brother with a knock of his arm to gain attention.

Another set of wolfish eyes join the first in hooking to your skin. Silly soft girl. Made of gentle sea breezes and lapping blue waves calm and soft enough to wade in. Pearl shining in moonlight. So watery and weak. So good. Untouchable.

Geta swept his gaze on you from head to toe. Appraising you hungrily through greedy eyes. The beauty of your figure in that soft folds of that stola. The gold that crushed your neck. Broaches at your fair shoulders. Hair glistening and finely arranged.

He liked the way you winced when another sword blow came. The pull of your brows and how you had to look away. He wanted you gathered up in his lap; fingers crushing your jaw as he turned your head; force you to watch as the men cleaved at each other and drew blood. Hacked off limbs. Laugh at your revulsion.

Looking at you sat there; He has an urge to take his dagger, slit that fine silk from your shoulders and bare your real beauty. Grab it off you and snatch your dress down. Spoil himself on your curves. Grab your breasts. He’s sure you’ve tits that even a goddess would envy. He’d reel you in by grabbing your ass that definitely needs a spank and some attention.

You’re even prettier than some of the finest whores he’s had grace his bed. They never kept his interest too long. Too entwined in filth and sin like him; you look pure as a vestal virgin.

He likes that. He wants to pluck it off you and spoil it.

You don’t dare meet his eyes. Of course you don’t. He’s an emperor. He could have you executed for looking at him wrongly. Instead; you wring your hands in your lap and squirm. Close your eyes tighter with every dying wail.

He turns back to the fight. As do you. A gasp flies from your mouth when you draw your eyes to one of the measly soldiers in the arena. Your father left his seat to stand, mouth gaping.

You saw the familiar arrangement of strong limbs. Garbed in warriors clothing. The way his arms shook holding a sword. Inexperienced and struggling. The fight was not fair. The same head of hair that matched your own.

Your oldest brother.

Macrinus grinned. “He’s not my finest fighter. But I wager he’ll be good sport.” He smirks.

Your father turned, cursed the gods, and exploded with venomous rage. Flew for the man with his fists. Grabbed his clothing. You tried to restrain the storm of his temper - but then you’d got that trait from somewhere hadn’t you? - an ocean thrashing wild and free. Terrifying in its rage.

“You promised me.” Your father roared. Spittle flying.

“I never promised to protect your traitor of a son. Let us see if the gods spare him. Yes?” Macrinus commented.

You couldn’t take your eyes from the pit. Nor could your father. He clutched to you like he could barely stand. Weakened and shrinking. Hand a vice on your shoulder. It burned like the sting of sun but you couldn’t shrug him off.

Your brother was meeting with an opponent far larger than he was. A Retiarius. Helmet, trident, dagger and a net.

Of which had currently knocked your brother to the blood dusted dirt. Spearing the trident deep into his thigh. Pinning him to earth like a bug. His cry of pain ringing out. Blood sheeted down one side of his head. His scream is the most horrible thing you’d ever heard.

You can’t help it. Where you’re stood, you cry out. It pours forth from you.

The Retiarius loomed over your bother like a terrible storm cloud. Looking up at the stands for direction. The whole audience cheered and screamed for more.

Geta stood up and the crowd bayed. He sneered at the sight before him. All the power of a god; crammed into a mortal man.

He raised his arm. And hesitated for a moment. Before he smirked. And pointed his thumb right up.

Death.

Your father wailed. The huge lumbering gladiator descended onto your brother. Flinging the net off and cutting his throat in one fast slice. Blood poured and pooled around lifeless eyes. Stained the sand.

Macrinus stood to his feet and clapped along with everyone else. The emperors’ laughed like hyenas at the sight. Blood and pain only made their smiles grow.

Before you knew what was happening, the palace guards had you and your father surrounded. Hands viced around your arms. Your shoulders. Your father too.

Traitor. He decried. A traitor in the senate. The tarpeian rock.

Just like his now dead son. People’s poised against the glory of Rome. Against Caracalla and Geta. Death to all.

Macrinus spoke harshly to the guards to release you. He backhanded you across your cheek. Your eye felt like it was going to burst. Cheek flamed with fire. Lip cut and bleeding down your chin from his ring.

He then wasted little time in digging his fingers into your finely done hair. Hauled you along screaming. Tears streaming.

Your father could only watch, limbs wrenching forwards in terror to help, as Macrinus marched you across the stands to where they sat.

He threw you to the ground like a feral animal. Tumbled you onto your knees. Skimmed your hands. As you squirmed and cried at your body twisted to his cruelty.

“Your majesties. I have personally uncovered a traitor in your court. Senator Aurelius. Not only was his first born placed in rebellion against Rome. But he himself has been sowing seeds of treason in your senate. I bring you his filthy kin as recompense…” He spat at the Emperors. Releasing your mussed hair to throw you to their feet.

They examined you as one would a creature. Nothing of humanity left. Devoid of any feeling. You crawled slowly to your elbows. Tried to claw away sobs. Raising up but not daring to look at them. You weren’t worthy. You feared them.

Geta was the one who rose slowly to his feet. Coming to stand before you. “We are most grateful for your revelation, Macrinus. You will be rewarded for such loyal service.” Though he spoke to him, his eyes never left you.

You father shouted and cried pleas. They go unheard. He snaps to the guards who hold him. “Silence that treacherous snake-“ he barks. They beat him into submission.

You stay cowering on the ground. In amongst the gritty dirt, and the blood like those slaves and gladiators. That’s how they saw you. That’s how much you were worth. Held in the same regard as the dirt on their shoes.

You feel a ring clad hand tip a finger under your chin. Blood dripping down onto that digit as he made you raise your head to look at him until your neck hurt.

“What is your name, pretty little traitor-“ He sneers. Because that is all you are. They’ve tarred and feathered you with the same brush.

You give it to him through tears that run freely. You give this awful golden haired emperor with dark lecherous eyes your name.

“Salacia.” You cry. Voice watery and cloaked in heavy salty sobs. Lips parted. So soft and pliable. Lovely and ripe and waiting for him. A gift from the gods-

He tilts his head down at you. Looking like some sun gold lion. Showing his canines in a cruel white smile.

“Imprison them. Both.” He smirks.

He thinks he may have them bring him your fathers head on a platter. Strangulation seemed too soft. Too forgiving. He had to make an example of you.

He had a particular way in mind for your fate. He watched you get led away crying as he sucked your sweet blood off his thumb.

You tasted like salt and sea foam

~

Tagging in the hopes this finds its way to the right people—

@indouloureux @trashmouth-richie @atabigail @lunatictardis @waywardrose @ceriseheaven @hillarymurray4 @lurkingprincess @ramona-thorns @joequinnswhore @iliveforotps @eddiesskittle @roosterisdaddy36 @rose-tinted @lluviamg06 @ravensfromvalhalla @fujiihime @youaremyfamiliar @captain-tch @ghosttownwherenoonegoes @svenyves @sammararaven @feralgoblinbabe @groupie-love-71 @andromeda-andromeda @morganamoonstone @gvtosbith @munsonswhore @shenevertricks1831 @hazzaismyreligion @harrys-titties @anaisweird @cinnamoncunt @red-lipstick-bisexual @wheels-of-despair @tvserie-s-world @callmeloverr @ho-for-joequinn-fics @bettyfrommars @rip-quizilla @songforeddiemunson @usedtobecooler @peachesandfiends @littlelioncub43 @heyndrix @babybluebex @blueywrites @joejoequinnquinn @cool-nick-miller @sheneedsrocknroll92 @rehfan @pedgito @dracomaledicte @gamingaquarius @mypoisonedvine @ddejavvu @sharp-and-swift @chaptersleftunwritten

[whiteeyes-is-a-mad-scientist]

Too snapping turtle

Who is the current seawing queen? What is she like?

"Queen Isopod is the kingdoms current queen after a seawing ambush killed her mother and sisters. A small and pale seawing with eyes always on the brink of bursting into tears. The crown is awkwardly balanced on her head as its a bit too heavy and bit too big for her.

To summarize, she is completely lost in panic and worry. Some say it was due to the sudden death of her mother and others believe it is because she never wanted nor expected the throne. She was tossed into leadership with no warning. Leadership during a war where all eyes are on you for what to do. An especially heavy crown thanks to Pearl and her... strong... leadership style.

She never leaves the deepsea palace because of these worries. A big reason Argile made the earring...

Many on the seawing council take advantage of this anxious state she is in. As one whisper of possible spies or traitors sends her into a panic, she'll do anything to keep herself safe. I honestly feel quiet sad for the young queen. She had no time to grieve and I fully believe she never left that night her mother died.

More alarming is how her usually shaky run away fear is turning into an angry violent fear. Ive seen long respected generals get dragged away to shark nests for failing to catch someone she found to be threatening.... this isnt her though... it cant be...

Her new council member Prawn has become close to queen... suspicious he is..."

-Snapping turtle

[archivyrep]

Power of the press, top-secret papers, and the media's obligation to "truth" in "The Post"

Daniel Ellsberg opens the safe which contains The Pentagon Papers at the beginning of the film. This is the only security stopping him from accessing the papers. Some time ago, I watched the 2017 film, The Post, a historical and political thriller film about the role of the Washington Post in publication of The Pentagon Papers. Critics were relatively positive, apart from criticizing the film’s…