#You and Me and Our World-War-Three-Like Love Revolution
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iloveyou2004 · 2 months ago
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GING NANG BOYZ | あの娘に1ミリでもちょっかいかけたら殺す (Ano Ko Ni 1mm Demo Chokkai Kaketara Korosu)
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augustinajosefina · 1 year ago
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A request
Please suggest books to me! Preferably in the glove kink/lesbian space atrocities, urban fantasy or dark academia genres but I'll happily try any SF/fantasy at least once.
So far I've read and loved:
Before 2023
The Imperial Radch (Ancillary Justice/Sword/Mercy) - Ann Leckie
Jean le Flambeur (The Quantum Thief/The Fractal Prince/The Causal Angel) - Hannu Rajaniemi
The Windup Girl/The Water Knife - Paolo Bagicalupi
Memory of Water/The City of Woven Streets - Emmi Itäranta
2023
The Locked Tomb (Gideon/Harrow/Nona the Ninth) - Tamsyn Muir
The Masquerade (Traitor/Monster/Tyrant Baru Cormorant) - Seth Dickinson
Teixcalaan series (A Memory Called Empire/A Desolation Called Peace) - Arkady Martine
Machineries of Empire (Ninefox Gambit/Raven Stratagem/Revenant Gun/Hexarchate Stories) - Yoon Ha Lee
The Murderbot Diaries (All Systems Red to System Collapse) - Martha Wells
The Broken Earth (The Fifth Season/The Obelisk Gate/The Stone Sky) - N. K. Jemisin
Klara And The Sun - Kazuo Ishiguro
Xuya universe (The Citadel of Weeping Pearls/The Tea Master and the Detective/Seven of Infinities plus short stories) - Aliette de Bodard
This is How You Lose the Time War - Amal El-Mohtar and Max Gladstone
The Goblin Emperor/The Witness for the Dead/Grief of Stones - Katherine Addison
Some Desperate Glory - Emily Tesh
2024
The Invisible Life of Addie LaRue - V. E. Schwab
The Craft Sequence (Three Parts Dead/Two Serpents Rise/Full Fathom Five/Last First Snow/Four Roads Cross/Ruin of Angels) - Max Gladstone
Babel: Or the Necessity of Violence: An Arcane History of the Oxford Translators' Revolution - R. F. Kuang
Dead Country - Max Gladstone
Hands of the Emperor - Victoria Goddard
Read and liked:
The Moonday Letters - Emmi Itäranta
Piranesi - Susanna Clarke
Great Cities (The City We Became/The World We Make) - N. K. Jemisin
Autonomous - Annalee Newitz
Dead Djinn universe (A Master of Djinn/The Haunting of Tram Car 015/A Dead Djinn in Cairo/The Angel of Khan el-Khalili) - P. Djèlí Clark
Even Though I Knew the End - C. L. Polk
Station Eternity - Mur Lafferty
The Mythic Dream - Dominik Parisien & Navah Wolfe
Shades of Magic (A Darker Shade of Magic/A Gathering of Shadows/A Conjuring of Light/Fragile Threads of Power) - V. E. Schwab
The Luminous Dead - Caitlin Starling
Last Exit - Max Gladstone
The Stars Are Legion - Kameron Hurley
Ninth House/Hell Bent - Leigh Bardugo
Machine - Elizabeth Bear
Our Wives Under the Sea - Julia Armfield
She Is A Haunting - Trang Thanh Tran
Sisters of the Revolution - Jeff & Ann Vandermeer
Station Eleven - Emily St John Mandel
Nettle & Bone - T. Kingfisher
Monstrilio - Gerardo Samano Córdova
Was uncertain about:
Light From Uncommon Stars - Ryka Aoki
The Kaiju Preservation Society - John Scalzi
Paladin's Grace - T. Kingfisher
The House in the Cerulean Sea - TJ Klune
In the Vanishers Palace - Aliette de Bodard
Uprooted - Naomi Novik
What Moves The Dead - T. Kingfisher
All The Birds In The Sky - Charlie Jane Anders
And read and disliked:
To Be Taught, if Fortunate - Becky Chambers
A Psalm for the Wild-Built - Becky Chambers
The Priory of the Orange Tree - Samantha Shannon
The Calculating Stars - Mary Robinette Kowal
The Space Between Worlds - Micaiah Johnson
How High We Go in the Dark - Sequoia Nagamatsu
Shadow and Bone - Leigh Bardugo
The Passage - Justin Cronin
In Ascension - Martin MacInnes
(My pride insists I add that I have, in fact, read other books as well. Just to be clear.)
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lovepersevering13 · 1 year ago
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Hey,
Would love to read a fic or oneshot about everlark Post Revolution opening a new bakery in district 12.
Love your writing 💗
Growing - Everlark
Wonderful request!! Kinda got a bit sidetracked at the end because I love the toast babies too much.
Summary: Katniss’s perspective of Peeta falling in love with owning a bakery
Warnings: Slight references to past abuse, this has not been edited
Word count: 886
I’d never really had friends so the lack of wasn’t something that bothered me. We had Johanna and Annie, and when he wasn’t drunk off his face Haymitch too. That’s more than I ever had before the games. But Peeta was lonely, he’d never sat alone at lunch, always surrounded by a group of merchant friends. He’d always been more social than me, laughing boisterously at lunch, captivating the Capitol audience, befriending the other tributes during the quarter quell.
Right after the war neither of us had really been ready to venture back out into the world but with everyday I noticed our secluded routine wasn’t enough for him.
It had been 5 years since the war ended. Peeta deserved something good in his life.
It was actually Effie who suggested it first, we were enjoying our weekly dinner and an indepth conversation about the ever present difference between food security in the Capitol and the districts.
“Well Peeta, darling, I’m sure all of district 12 would enjoy more of your baking,” Effie suggested.
It started off slow. Peeta still held so much trauma from the dreadful environment he grew up in. We lay in bed one night, Peeta’s head on my chest as I twirled his baby soft blonde curls through my fingers,
“Do you think I’ll be like my Mother?” He asked abruptly,
“Never.” I assured him,
“If we go through with this bakery thing… I need it to be nothing like the old bakery,”
“Peeta it won’t be,”
Peeta tilted his head up to look at me, I smiled at the sight of his light, watery eyes as he asked, “How do you know?”
“Because, Peeta, I know you. You loved me when I couldn’t love you, you loved me when everything in your mind told you not to. I have no doubt that anything you could create would be full of nothing but love.”
He buried his face against my chest,
“If you want to go through with this, I will support you in every step of the way because I know it will be the most beautiful and happy place in all of district 12, nae, all of Panem.”
And so it begun, Peeta chose a lot in the centre of the new town- backing onto a large flowery field very far from the old town square.
Everyone was eager to help with getting the bakery ready. Effie ordered in all the supplies Peeta could need and Johanna even came to visit and help build furniture for the bakery.
The final product was marvellous. White wooden paneling, with a dandelion yellow trim around the roof, most importantly- a large, well lit, shiny window to display all of Peeta’s gorgeous cakes. Prim would’ve loved it…
“Do you think people will come?” Peeta asked nervously, 5 minutes before opening on the first day,
“Of course, everyone loves your baking kid,”
Haymitch assured him. I peered out the window, though it was true everyone loved Peeta’s baking, it was also true that everyone had kept their distance from their three dysfunctional victors.
“People are here,” Effie grinned, she wasn’t kidding- there was a crowd growing at the stairs to the bakery. I turned back to see Peeta who was peering over my shoulder with a contagious smile on his face. The kind of smile which you’d hardly believe possible after everything he’d lived through.
Haymitch leant over the counter and squeezed Peeta’s shoulder “Well, what are you waiting for? Let them in.”
The bakery is a huge success. Everyday the doors are flooded with regulars and new customers, all eager to fill their mouths with the sweetness of Peeta’s baking. With each day I notice Peeta’s smile grow. I used to think we’d never get the old Peeta back but every morning that I watch him kneading fresh bread in the glow of the oven it’s like nothing bad has ever happened to us.
On the bad days, which are fewer and fewer, Peeta hires one of Delly’s old friends to hold down the bakery. Everyone is always pleased when Peeta returns. On mornings I can’t get out of bed to accompany him down to the bakery he brings a warm loaf back with a bowl of soup at lunch. Somehow I’m always out of bed by dinner.
We heal, not fully, never fully healed, but better. District 12 evolves into a place of healing and growth alongside us.
Peeta’s fear of turning out like his mother becomes less by the day. I see him grow fonder of the young children running up to the display window. I think of the past, Prim, hunger, burnt bread. Peeta thinks of the future, I know he does. One day I hope to give him that future he aches for so purely.
One day, 5 maybe 10 years later our own daughter will press her nose against the window, She’ll have Prim’s eye for beauty but none of her longing. The dancing girl will never know a day where her father doesn’t sneak her a treat over the counter. That night when I told Peeta anything he creates will be filled with nothing but love will be true for not only the bakery, but the dancing girl and the boy with blonde curls who will follow shortly after.
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anonymousewrites · 1 year ago
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One Hell of a Love (Book 1.5) Chapter Six
Sebastian Michaelis x Demon! Reader
Chapter Six: One Hell of a Queen
Summary: Sebastian teaches Ciel a lesson, and the Queen's butler proves to be a rotten apple.
            “Her Majesty the Queen should have arrived in Paris about three days ago and is probably inspecting the World Fair’s grounds at present,” said Sebastian as he looked out over the English Channel while he, (Y/N), and Ciel traveled towards France by boat. “The hotel is heavily guarded, and we…” He trailed off. “Young Master.”
            Ciel glanced up. “What is it?”
            “Your attention seems to be elsewhere,” said Sebastian.
            “Lau said something,” said Ciel. “ ‘Her Majesty intends to rush Europe…No, the world headlong into war.’ ”
            “Is that the reason you are seeking Her Majesty?” said (Y/N).
            “No,” denied Ciel.
            “Then, was your heart shaken by Abberline’s death?” suggested Sebastian.
            “You’re wrong. After all, they are mere pawns to me,” said Ciel. He furrowed his brow in something akin to pain. “Even so, that pawn ignored my orders and insisted on getting involved. Even Lau did the same. There’s no way I can play the game if I don’t understand my pawns’ thoughts and strategies. That’s all.”
            Sebastian and (Y/N) were not foolish enough to fall for such a lie.
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            It had not been long, but Ciel was already bored at the World Fair. (Y/N) was amused by the humans’ inventions as they chased the power of the heavens with their simple contraptions. Truly, they had come so far since (Y/N) was one of their kind. Of course, that and they hadn’t been in Paris since 1789. (The French Revolution had been the perfect hunting ground for (Y/N) and many other demons).
            “Let us walk around a while longer, if for no other reason than to search out ideas for our own product development,” said Sebastian.
            “Really?” said a man as he passed by with an associate.
            “Yes,” said his associate. “Looks like there’s a stuffed angel in the Hall of Wonders. Let’s go and see it.”
            “A stuffed angel?” murmured Ciel.
            “I doubt any humans found the remains of an angel,” said (Y/N). “But I admit I would like to see whatever foolish tactics to draw tourism your kind has come up with.”
            Sure enough, (Y/N) was right—it was a monkey with bird wings fused to the back, dead and stuffed in a glass case.
            “What? It’s just a monkey,” said Ciel. “Boring. Let’s go the next hall.”
            He turned away with the demons by his side, but a loud crash drew their attention. People screamed as the “angel” broke free of the glass case and screeched as it flew towards Ciel. Sebastian pushed (Y/N) and Ciel down as the monkey swooped down a them.
            “What’s happening?” muttered Ciel while the monkey flew around the room, breaking each lantern and plunging the room into darkness. “This is—!”
            “Calm down,” said (Y/N), their pupils expanding to look around the dark room. “The shadows are where Sebastian and I thrive.”
            “Leave this to us,” assured Sebastian. “You should escape outside the fair’s grounds.” This was undoubtedly Angela’s doing or someone she associated with. Sebastian wanted to send (Y/N) away as well, but he knew they were far too interested in their own revenge to leave him to fight on his own. And Angela said they were loyal to him so they wouldn’t leave him.
            As Ciel ran out of the room, (Y/N) and Sebastian leapt into the air. The mortals were too busy running out and screaming about the darkness and “reanimated vengeful angel” to notice the two demons hunting the monkey. Within a few minutes, (Y/N) and Sebastian had chased it into a corner and properly broke its neck. Sebastian picked up the body and carried it outside.
            “How tasteless,” muttered Sebastian, raising a judgmental eyebrow.
            (Y/N) smirked and went to respond, but something floated down in front of them. They frowned as they caught it. Their gaze darkened. “Sebastian.” It was a pure white feather—an angel feather.
            The demons looked up at the Eiffel Tower where the feather had fluttered down from. Sebastian narrowed his eyes. He could sense his contract above. More concerning was the angel he and (Y/N) could sense. He was no longer hiding his aura—Ash had revealed himself.
            “Ah. So the Queen has been corrupted by an angel. How perfect,” said (Y/N) with not a little sarcasm. “And your contract is in trouble once more.”
            Sebastian sighed. “How tiresome of him.” A smirk split his face. “But if the Queen is involved with angels and this ‘purification’ obsession, then my Young Master will have his revenge…and I shall have a meal.”
            Sebastian leapt into the air, running up the side of the Eiffel Tower. (Y/N) jumped up after him, leaping from metal bar to metal bar. Sebastian was the first to the top, and he grabbed Ciel before Ash could stab him. (Y/N) landed beside him and narrowed their eyes as they regarded the Queen (who looked young, somehow, cleansed by Ash) and Ash.
            “Even that sword you are so proud of has no meaning if you cannot hit,” said Sebastian. “Young Master, this may be the end. Now, give me the order.”
            The contract is coming to an end, thought (Y/N).
            “Kill Ash,” ordered Ciel.
            “Is that all?” asked Sebastian, smirking.
            “Kill the Queen!” said Ciel.
            So she was involved in well. Corruption really always does go all the way up the hierarchy, thought (Y/N).
            “Ciel!” gasped the Queen.
            “As you command,” said Sebastian.
            He whipped out silver knives, and (Y/N) moved with him. The knives flew at the Queen, but Ash’s sword blocked them all. The three moved in the air, leaping from bar to bar across the Eiffel Tower.
            “How terrible! Ciel, stop that man!” cried the Queen. “Ciel!”
            But neither the demons nor the angel were stopping. Ash slashed through metal, and beams went crashing to the ground below. Ciel’s eyes widened as he saw the people below in danger and looking up.
            “Stop, Sebastian!” said Ciel.
            Sebastian jumped back to Ciel’s side. “Why?”
            “You’ve been noticed,” said Ciel. “The disturbance will only increase now.”
            “They’re just humans,” scoffed (Y/N), throwing another knife at Ash.
            “No! We shall withdraw,” ordered Ciel. Sebastian’s eyes narrowed in frustration.
            “Are you attempting to order me? If I want to kill this angel, I will,” said (Y/N), their eyes flashing fuchsia. Ciel stepped back slightly, now acutely aware of the truth that (Y/N) obeyed him only because they were bored and “friendly” with Sebastian. He had no power over the cat demon.
            “(Y/N),” said Sebastian, gritting his teeth. “I shall withdraw as well.” He had to as Ciel ordered it, and he would prefer (Y/N) not be near Ash, an angel, in a fight on their own. Yes, they were strong and talented, but Sebastian’s instincts were to keep them beside him. He didn’t want Ash to lay a hand on them, in any way.
            (Y/N)’s eyes flashed dangerously again. “Fine.” They jumped back to Sebastian’s side.
            Ash smirked at them and bowed before extending his wings and picking up the Queen. “Until we meet again and the cleansing is complete.”
            They flew off into the distance, leaving Ciel with his revenge foiled once more and (Y/N) and Sebastian were left frustrated, (Y/N) for not getting to kill the angel and Sebastian for having his meal delayed.
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            “Why did you stop me?” questioned Sebastian darkly once the three were back in a carriage.
            “I have already explained,” said Ciel, not looking at the two demons. “We were noticed. That is all.”
            “Indeed,” said Sebastian.
            (Y/N) raised an eyebrow judgmentally.
            “What do you want to say?” said Ciel, glaring at his butler.
            “Your wish is to take revenge on those who dragged you to Hell.” Sebastian’s face expressed his irritation clearly. “Just what was that day’s oath? ‘Kill.’ You did not hesitate on that day, not even to give me your soul. Will you pledge your loyalty to the Queen, even after learning the truth?”
            “I was never loyal to Her in the first place,” denied Ciel. “I was just acting as the head of the Phantomhive household should.”
            “So, your soul has become dear to you?” Sebastian’s words were laced with darkness.
            (Y/N) suppressed a shiver as shadows swirled towards Sebastian as his demonic power rose angrily to the surface. Sebastian was a powerful demon both in skill and raw power, like them, and they were acutely aware of it (indeed, it was one of the reasons they loved him).
            “Nonsense,” said Ciel shortly. “What are you—!” Ciel’s eyes widened as he faced Sebastian and saw his angry gaze, sharp and cruel.
            Sebastian looked away, point made. Ciel was the contract, the master, but Sebastian was the demon. At the end of the day, he had the power. “You look tired today.” His voice was short. “Perhaps you should return to the hotel and get some rest.”
            (Y/N) remained silent. They knew better than to speak when a demon was so on edge, even if Sebastian had never treated them cruelly.
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            (Y/N) stood outside of the hotel room as Sebastian exited, leaving Ciel behind. The darkness of the corridor swirled around Sebastian, the raven demon’s gaze still sharp and irritated.
            “Sebastian?” asked (Y/N).
            “My Young Master has lost his nerve,” Sebastian nearly growled. “So it is time for him to learn a lesson.”
            (Y/N) raised a brow. “You intend to leave him while an angel is on the prowl?”
            “I will interfere only if my contract proves himself worth it,” said Sebastian. “Do you find my intentions wrong?” His eyes flashed fuchsia.
            (Y/N) cocked their head. “You know I don’t interfere with your jobs.”
            Sebastian relented. Yes, he knew that. He had no reason to threaten or get upset with (Y/N). “Of course.”
            “So, we’ll leave him to figure out his desires.” (Y/N) undid their white apron to leave them in a black dress.
            Sebastian pulled on his black coat. “Yes. I refuse a soul not committed to its ambitions.”
            “Ash is going to try something,” remarked (Y/N) as the pair began walking out of the hotel.
            Sebastian tsked. “He will not steal my contract. I will ensure it.” Sebastian leapt onto the rooftops, and (Y/N) followed. He looked at them, and his gaze remained dark. “Neither will we allow him near you.”
            (Y/N) scoffed and faced him. “Sebastian, you know I wouldn’t be tempted by an angel.”
            “Of course you wouldn’t.” Sebastian wouldn’t respect them if they were so easily influenced, especially by beings like angels. His hand flitted out and traced over their arm. “You are not a fool.”
            (Y/N)’s nose twitched. “Well, I was taught by you.”
            Sebastian found a flicker of a smile appearing even in the midst of his annoyance. “No, you were not a fool even when I chose you.”
            (Y/N) blinked. They rarely got any praise from Sebastian. They recovered quickly and smirked. “Of course I wasn’t.” Their smirk became a smile. “And for the record, I was glad that my mentor turned out to be quite a capable demon as well.”
            Sebastian smirked. “I am one hell of a teacher.”
            “And here you are, teaching a needed lesson to a human as well,” commented (Y/N).
            “If Ciel Phantomhive’s soul is going to be strong enough to appetize me, he must have his heart set on his goals with no part of him wavering,” said Sebastian. He stood beside the cat demon and looked out over the city. “This is the moment between him and his revenge.”
Taglist:
@technikerin23
@im-making-an-effort
@izzieg3987
@jinxxangel13
@alexpangender
@otomyoli
@neenieweenie
@nex-crowley
@anxious-chick
@bellacastiel
@v1l-ismissing
@agentdedf1sh
@idkhowtoplayhoyoversegames
@iamsexytrash
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ms-oswald · 1 year ago
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📖 Fic rec time! When you get this, reply with three fics that you've read and loved to pieces, then pass on to at least five other people who read fics. Let’s appreciate fic writers and their amazing stories 💖
i'm late - sorry. oh god, just three??
DANCING IN THE DARK | @arcielee | a tom bennett x ofc short story set during season 1 of world on fire. i am an avid lover of historical fictions, especially stories related to world war one and two - so reading DITD made me feel like i was reading one of the novels i just adore. arcie has such a way with using words and creating such beautiful compositions - it just makes your heart melt. the budding romance between tom and vera is *chef kiss*, and it being an open ending just makes you smile because you pray for a hea.
WE WERE SOMETHING DON'T YOU THINK SO? | @inthedayswhenlandswerefew | a ben hardy x ofc story. this is one of the fics that just comes to haunt me - in a good way. a historical fiction inspired by the russian revolution and the story of the romanov? sign me up. this was such a beautiful story, it makes you cry and hope for the oc and for ben. || another one that just struck me: HAVE YOU NO IDEA THAT YOU'RE IN DEEP?. a HOTD with aemond x reader. this one killed me and i think of it often because i'm still crying over it, but fck it was good. it's one of the stories that just sucks you in and makes you scream at the top of your lungs from all the emotional rollercoaster.
WOLF-HEART | @gemini-mama | a finan x ofc fic set during the time gap in season 2. this was such a great read - faoladhean has become one of the ocs i love so much. the multi-chaptered fic was written with such detail and with such careful descriptions, the relationship between finan and faoladhean blossomed so beautifully, i was completely smitten. and she has such strength and such love to give, i can't wait to see where the sequel goes. She-Wolf for the win.
i know it says 3, but i don't think i'll be getting another one, so i need to add more or i'mma explode.
CRIMES OF PASSION | @itbmojojoejo | RUNA. i love you. a take of 50's London with the tlk crew? a love triangle between between our ofc, sihtric and finan? fck yes. bring it on. mojo created an oc that just makes you wish you knew her in real life. she is wild - which i adore - and the pacing of the story, the characters, the dynamic. love it all. can't wait to see the ending. i know i will cry, i got tissues ready. RUNA. let's be friends?
A THOUSAND YEARS | @persephones-journey | a staple for finan x oc fics, this series was one of the first i stumbled upon when i started reading tlk fics and i immediately fell in love. the level of angst and passion these stories have - the relationship between finan and aisling, all their ups and downs - it has your heart doing somersaults in all kinds of direction. the level of dedication to expand this au is amazing and i love every word of it. aisling has become one of my fave ocs - a fiery character, hardheaded, stubborn and yet has such a big heart. i can't wait to see where her story goes.
FIRE IN HER EYES | @emilyhufflepufftlk | another tlk series, a beautiful love story between finan x lucinda. these stories broke my heart in so many ways and yet i could not get enough of them. i loved the story and development of the relationship between finan and lucinda and i also loved her sisters and the family they created - this was done beautifully and worth the heartache and tears. lucinda had such love from finan, her children and from everyone around her - you wished you were part of it all.
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charms-of-earth · 2 months ago
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Ok, I don’t know what else to do so I’m writing this all down. I feel like I have no power to alter the course right now, so I’m doing whatever I can to calm down and be safe. This is a lot. When I read 1984, I wanted the love story to happen so badly that when I learned about what really happened and how it ended, I threw the book out the window. I was so angry that anyone would write such a hopeless and bleak world, even as a warning that I just acted out of anger. Years later, things are starting to really worry me about this country and I think back to the book. Three global powers, Russia, China, and the US. Russia and the US are getting all buddy-buddy and China is being seen as less and less favorable as the years go by. Just like in 1984. Always at war with one country and friends with the other, but it changes. Can you see the similarities? Somehow, the reality is worse though. In the book, everyone is taught to incinerate proof of the collusion between countries, or how a few decades back things were different. They were being gaslit into believing that things were always this way. In real life though, we have plenty of proof that Trump has been colluding with Russia. He’s a convicted felon, a traitor to his own country, and people who support him just…don’t care. 
The Republicans are doing everything they can to undermine the Democrats, and the Democrats are being spineless and not fighting back. If you’re too radical of a leftist, that's dangerous and you will be targeted. If you’re a radical right wing however, you have the police on your side. You have Trump on your side. You have a billionaire that owns the biggest social media platform in the world right now on your side. The fascists are getting bolder every year, and the people who have the power to stand up to them aren’t doing that. People are afraid to be labeled as a socialist because of this country’s history with that word and what we think it means. Someone comes along who tries his best to convince the world that it’s not a scary thing and it will do the country good, and he’s not even put on the ballot. We are in late stage capitalism and drastic changes need to be made to keep this country from going full fascist, and the people who are in power are either too afraid to speak up and potentially become a target for abuse and violence, or they support the fascists. If some big changes aren’t made soon, we could go to war with China. We could become a police state. We could be stripped of all our rights. There could even be another holocaust. People like Trump don’t want me to exist. People like him are doing whatever they can to make life for me as uncomfortable as possible. Why, though? So I’ll leave? There’s nowhere for me to go. I have lived here my whole life, this is my home. My friends are here, my doctors are here, all my things, my community. My favorite restaurant, the park down the street, my partner’s place of work that he likes working at. Our lives are here. Everyone I’ve talked to doesn’t want to think about it. People are scared and trying to protect themselves because we’re taught to try and not worry about things we have no control over. That’s the thing though - we have more control than we realize. We are the many and they are the few. We outnumber the rich and powerful by a big margin, and they know that. If we were to ever unite under a common goal (reclaiming our country from the fascists), they wouldn’t be able to stop all of us. They are afraid of us. The people making these decisions know that most people won’t like the changes they are making, because those changes better their lives, not ours. Revolutions mean lives lost, and civil unrest, and political upheaval, so we’re all waiting and holding our breath and hoping for the best. Hoping can’t change the world though. Good intentions can only take us so far. I see the writing on the wall. A civil war is coming, and I don’t know if the safest place is right here, or another country. I sometimes wish I could move to another world, but that's not possible.
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getblackout503 · 3 months ago
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Before we begin, Mimosa is the eldest of the three Silva sisters. Being 25 in this story as she plays angelica, Noelle is 22 and plays Eliza, while Nero is 20 and plays Peggy. Thought I would say so yall know who plays who.
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In this world there’s nothing rich folk love more than going downtown and slummin’ it with the poor. They typically go in their carriages and gawk at the students in the common just to watch them talk. Take Arthur Silva, the man is loaded. But little does he know that his daughters. Nero, Mimosa, and Noelle like to sneak into the city to watch all the guys at work.
“Mimosa!” A girl, with black hair and brilliant red eyes called out to her sister. Who had long brown hair and beautiful yellow. “Noelle!” The black haired girl called out to her other sister, who had Silver hair and stunning purple eyes.
“Yes Nero?” Both girls turn their attention to their red eyed sister.
“Daddy said to be home before sundown.” Nero told her sisters as they walked further into town.
“Daddy doesn’t need to know.” Mimosa told Nero, it was no big deal. They knew how to take care of themselves, so Nero’s concerns weren’t necessary.
“But daddy said not to go downtown.” Nero said.
“Like I said Nero,” Noelle turned to her sister. “You’re free to go.”
Nero was going to retort if it weren’t for their eldest sister calling their attention.
“Look around you too, the revolution is happening in Clover.” Mimosa said stick. enthusiastically at the prospect of change happening.
“In clover?” Both girls asked, with Noelle being intrigued while Nero seemed worried.
“Yes, right here in our town.”
“It’s bad enough that daddy wants to go to war.” Nero said in frustration, both girls understood her frustration. They all cared for their father, and the thought of losing him hurt them. But they also knew he was strong, and had faith in him.
“Look, there’s people shouting in the square.” Noelle pointed to the town square where patriots were protesting against the king.
“It’s bad enough that there will be violence on our shores.” Nero added.
“But there will be new ideas in the air.” Mimosa looks forward to what this intellectual revolution could bring, especially for the women in the colonies. It could spell the start to a better era, and she was sure to help make sure women had a bigger say in the new era.
“Mimosa, remind me what we’re looking for?”
“She’s looking for me.” A couple of guys say to them, bit Mimosa brushes past them ignoring them completely.
“Noelle, I’m looking for a mind at work.” She tells her sister, just as another man approaches.
“Well, there’s nothing like summer in the city, wouldn’t you agree. Someone in a rush meeting someone looking pretty.” Gauche said, trying to impress Mimosa. “Excuse Miss Silva, I know this isn’t funny but your perfume smells like your daddy’s got money.”
Mimosa scoffed, she’s heard of Gauche Adlai before. A prodigy of Golden Dawn college, a smart man yes, but intelligent absolutely not. He’s too cautious, not willing to take necessary risks. Safe to say Gauche was not what she was looking for.
“Adlai, you disgust me.” Mimosa told him as she turned away.
“Ah, so you’ve discussed me? I’m a trust fund, baby. You can trust me.” He said in a smug tone, and Mimosa wouldn’t take it lying down.
“You know Adlai, I’ve been reading Common sense by Thomas Paine. Some men say I’m intense or even that I’m insane. You want a revolution? Well I want a revaluation. So listen to my declarations.” Mimosa told Adlai, as her sisters joined her.
“We hold these truths to be self-evident that all men are created equal.” The Silvas said, with Mimosa adding.
“And when I meet Rhya, I’m going to compel him to include women in the sequel.” Mimosa smiled, Gauche was left with nothing to say as he agreed with her sentiment. With a simple nod Gauche backed off and walked away.
“Look around you two,” Noelle told the two. “Look around at how lucky we are to be alive right now.”
Mimosa smiled at her sister's happiness.
“History is happening here in Clover, and we just happen in the greatest city in the world!” Noelle almost yelled in excitement at what’s to come.
As the three Silva sisters walked around downtown, folks nearby gathered around a man who supported the British. And four men stood there watching, the four of them being Asta and the rest of the gang, with Gauche coming soon.
And whatever the supporter had to say, Asta was ready to refute the farmer.
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gabostudio · 8 months ago
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I went to the Tokyo Photographic Art Museum (https://topmuseum.jp/e/contents/index.html).
There were three curated exhibitions, and I started from the basement and worked my way up. Each floor was dedicated to a different show:
B1F: Ihei Kimura - Living in Photography  Mar 16 (Sat) — May 12 (Sun) (https://topmuseum.jp/e/contents/exhibition/index-4770.html)
This was a dedicated retrospective of Ihei Kimura (1901-1974). I do not know why specifically, but he is known as the master of using the Leica (and a prominent figure of Japanese 35mm photography). Something that really struck me about this show was how many places he had visited, especially those in China before the cultural revolution. Many of those cities were ones that I had lived in or visited before.
The more I visit museums in Tokyo, the more I’m beginning to see how many Japanese artists were able to go to China to practice photography. I wonder what enabled this to happen. 
I loved this show. Not only because it showed his eagerness to explore the world (in a time where traveling was of a slower pace), but because by looking at his work there was a sense of carefree/ effortlessness in his shots and then you would suddenly be hit by an elegant demonstration of photographic technique.
2F: Remembrance beyond images Mar. 1—Jun. 9, 2024 (https://topmuseum.jp/e/contents/exhibition/index-4549.html)
This was a group show that was dedicated to memory. While I’m usually not a fan of things like this (because in historical curatorial shows, they are usually only images of wealthy individuals/ experiences), I did find myself sitting through the entire screening of one documentary by Nguyên Trinh Thi called Letters from Panduranga (2015). 
Here is a description from her website on the work itself: 
“The essay film, made in the form of a letter exchange between a man and a woman, was inspired by the fact that the government of Vietnam plans to build the country’s first two nuclear power plants in Ninh Thuan (formerly known as Panduranga), right at the spiritual heart of the Cham indigenous people, threatening the survival of this ancient matriarchal Hindu culture that stretches back almost two thousand years.
At the border between documentary and fiction, the film shifts audience attention between foreground and background, between intimate portraits and distant landscapes, offering reflections around fieldwork, ethnography, art, and the role of the artist.
Intertwining circumstances of the past, present, and future, the film also unfolds a multi-faceted historical and on-going experience of colonialisms, and looks into the central ideas of power and ideology in our everyday.”
I like how the end of the documentary is never really resolved. The artist comes to recognize boundaries, and concludes with her own understandings of different local and philosophical understandings on the responsibilities of a documentarian, the future and shortcomings of “history”, and the blurred lines between people and landscape. 
3F: A Traveler from 1200 Months in the Past Apr 4 (Thu) — Jul 7 (Sun) (https://topmuseum.jp/e/contents/exhibition/index-4813.html)
It was one of those exhibitions where you start with turn of the century examples: think of important moments in war and art (which featured a print of Man Ray’s Le Violon d’Ingres) and then you find yourself looking at a cascade of prolific covers of American and Japanese magazines; to emphasize the contrast bluntly, imagine you’re in a room where one side is a collection of Time Magazine covers, and the adjacent room has a display cabinet of magazines which features one of Adolf Hitler. 
I was not too thrilled with this show, but kind of weird to walk through it with any awareness of current geopolitical affairs and then thinking about how they will be documented and retold in the future. 
The only thing I found exciting (and was related to my self-interests), was an example of microscopy by Laure Albin Guillot (1879-1962), an artist who was renowned in classical and avant garde photography. She was known for being a photographer for Parisian celebrities but also produced a series of photographic works in microscopy in 1931.
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They Might Call In The National Guard On Your Ass
I watched Punishment Park a few days ago. A cinema vérité pseudodocumentary from 1971(!), it takes place in an alternate United States where hippies, Commie sympathizers, and anti-war protestors who don't want fifteen to twenty years in prison are shipped off to Punishment Park, where they have three days to run fifty three miles through the desert to an American flag. If they reach it in time, they get to walk free, or so they are told.
It's a gritty, chilling, masterfully put together work of alternative history and it's also kind of a misery fest. The absurdity of the concept leaves room for some degree of reaction to the extremity of it, and maybe in a different context I would be able to crack a smile at lanky seventies youths running towards nothing with awful posture through a desert in record-breaking heat. But you have to understand that I have been put through the ringer of having regurgitated radical politik parroted at me over and over and over. It gives certain people a thrill to wallow in that misery. But it just doesn't thrill me to have people try to insert a microchip in my head repeating slogans of Everything is Awful and Will Never Get Better.
You would think I would relate to one of the girls who gets interrogated at the Punishment Park, who is blonde, 19, and writes (kind of awful) songs about the Pigs and Tricky Dick and all that. She talks about how she dropped out of college because after the Kent State massacre, she realized that it wouldn't matter if she wore a stars-and-stripes cheerleader uniform and rah-rahed America all day; even if she was just a spectator, the National Guard would just shoot her anyway. She didn't feel safe being out in the open.
This allure of the "underground" was in full swing during that era of the Weathermen and is even more common today where we long for a time when the revolution wasn't televised. It seems people love this movie because of these tendencies. When your face is in the light, it's scary. You retreat to the womb, or in this case the commune, and you feel safer but you also isolate yourself. You surround yourself with hardcore ideals that present plain fact but with no room for changing those facts substantially. You preach upheaval but get so caught up in the concept of it that you mentally can't go about ever making it happen, because doing so would make you like the world better, and you can't have that when you live off of the world being against you. It's addicting. We need the truth, especially now, but we're all individuals with our own individual lived experiences. The real world isn't a colorless, lifeless desert plateau. There's color and water and food and little creatures crawling in the ground.
Different strokes for different folks, but why did Ken Russell have to die before he could direct a hilarious and extremely Ken Russell remake or take of this? These are the thoughts that go through my bored, weird, college girl head.
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mischa-auer · 1 year ago
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Picture Play, July 1937
From Immigrant to Star by Madeline Glass
You laugh at Mischa Auer to-day, but what do you know of the hardships and grief of his early life? This story will make you appreciate him more.
Transcript of article:
Press people are practically standing in line to interview Mischa Auer, yet when I told him on the telephone that I, too, wanted him to talk, for the benefit of Picture Play readers, he replied, “Love to!” As it turned out we talked all over the Universal lot, beginning in the dining room, losing sight of each other in the publicity department- it was then that he went across the street to get something for his cold- were reunited on the set, and finished in his dressing room. “Must be a nuisance to have some one tagging you and asking questions while you are trying to concentrate on your work,” I remarked.
“It would be much more than a nuisance if no one wanted to ask questions of me,” said he. “When interviewers stop coming-” Broad shoulders heaved in a telling shrug; brown eyes expressed apprehension. But such apprehensions are for the far distant future. To-day Mischa’s popularity is growing by leaps and bounds- no pun on his astonishing monkey impersonation in “My Man Godfrey”- and he is kept so busy by the studios that he has no time to answer the deluge of fan letters that are pouring in on him.
“But now,” he told me, beaming, “I am to have a three-day vacation. I will have time to play with Tony. When I am working long hours, day after day, I hardly see him.”
Tony is his son, a 1934 model. Mischa wants him to become a sportsman, though not in the popular sense of the word. “No football,” said he. “No brutal sports. I am something of an athlete- tennis, riding, aquatics- but I see nothing admirable in sports which involve cruelty. Life offers enough pain without our going out of our way to invite or inflict it.”
Mischa is well qualified to speak on this subject, as on many others. He has seen life at its rawest and most elemental. Every sort of disaster has followed and overtaken him; some have thrown him, but not for long. He not only survived tragedy and misadventure, but profited from them.
While Mischa was in his infancy his father died on the battlefield in the Russo-Japanese conflict. When but nine years of age his native Russia entered the World War. At twelve, revolution swept his country.
In the chaos he became separated from his mother, and for six months  he drifted about the land with other homeless children. When finally restored to his mother, they decided to leave so turbulent a country, and eventually made their way to southern Russia where Mischa, despite his youth, enlisted in the British Expeditionary Forces. There his mother founded a refugee hospital which she managed until death from typhus ended her humanitarian work.
Very much alone now, Mischa prepared to go to Florence, Italy, where a friend of his mother was living. The sale of a few remaining jewels paid his train fare, but left nothing with which to buy clothing. Years of undernourishment had left his fifteen-year-old body undeveloped, and his British uniform hung baggily upon him.
“My clothes had to be disinfected before I was allowed to get on the train. They came out of the disinfecting process appallingly wrinkled- deep, crepey crinkles that ordinary water doesn’t produce. A kindly woman undertook to press them, but she had finished only one trouser leg when I had to put them on and hurry off. I got out of the train at Florence, all my worldly possessions tied in a steamer rug, and found an unpretentious cab to take me to an unpretentious hotel.
“The hotel manager had never seen anything like me. He walked around and around, inspecting me from every angle. My British uniform was a novelty, the War having ended eighteen months previously, and the unpressed trouser leg was several inches shorter than the other. Some one had given me a cane, and I stood there leaning on it, trying to look as dignified and nonchalant as possible.
“At length he let me register, and after putting my bundle in my room I set out to find mother’s friend. She had married, and I didn’t know her husband’s name, and I couldn’t think how I was to locate her. When I walked down the street people- Italians are naturally excitable- gathered and followed me, talking, and trying to solve the mystery of my appearance.
“An attendant at the city hall looked through the records which they keep on foreigners, and the friend’s name was listed there, also the name and address of her husband. She must have been astonished to find so strange-looking an object at her door, but she appeared not to notice. ‘Where is your mother?’ she asked. Only then did it seem fully to dawn on me that mother was dead. I dropped over in a faint.”
In New York lived one of Mischa’s grandparents, Leopold Auer, a music master of renown. He cabled passage money, and Mischa set out on a long journey. Through an error, no one met his boat, and he was sent to Ellis Island for three days.
Thereafter the sun of good fortune began to shine on the big-eyed immigrant. His grandfather adopted him, sent him to high school, introduced him to prominent people of the artistic world. He learned our language, among other things, and to dislodge a lingering accent studied pronunciation with a teacher of the deaf and dumb. Hour after hour he drilled himself in the correct pronunciation of English words. To-day his speech is free from accent, yet he frequently finds himself cast in roles where it is necessary for him to assume one. This minor irony amuses him, as do life’s other inconsistencies. Unembittered by his experiences, he is notably cheerful and optimistic.
For America, where he grew from stunted boyhood to strapping and distinguished maturity, he has the greatest affection. He laughed in recounting how, when he went to vote at the last presidential election, he found only one other voter at the poles- a fellow Russian.
The day’s work was finished and, getting into Mischa’s car, he drove us over to his dressing quarters. As befits his honestly earned success, Universal, where he is under contract, has provided him with a cheerful modern apartment. Sitting in a  streamlined chair, still wearing his ochre make-up, he commented on the local Greek-Catholic church, where the atmosphere reminds him of his childhood in St. Petersburg; of conditions in Europe; of his work and family.
“My wife is American, born in Canada. When her parents heard that she was going to marry me they asked why she couldn’t find an American or Canadian instead. They had never met me, and such photographs as they saw were not reassuring. When I left the stage and got work in such pictures as ‘Lives of a Bengal Lancer’ and ‘Clive of India’ I was continually cast as assistant to the villain. When they saw stills from such productions, with me bundled up in whiskers or wearing the sly, oily expressions of polished cut-throats, they thought their daughter had lost her mind.
“I am very glad that I have got into comedy work. It gives me a feeling of satisfaction to see my pictures and realize that the character I am playing is affording amusement. I think the world needs all the humor it can get.” The fans, too, are glad that Mischa is no longer cast as “assistant to the villain,” and they are expressing their appreciation in an avalanche of mail. “They do not send mere requests for my photograph, but write sizable, interesting letters,” said he gratefully. It was men like Frank Tuttle and Gregory La Cava who helped Mr. Auer get into picture work, and it is a pleased and admiring public that will keep him there.
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perfectclassic · 7 days ago
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The 71 Albums I Learned In 2024
Days Of Future Passed - The Moody Blues (1967) The Beatles - The Beatles (1968) Rock On - Humble Pie (1971) Ridin' The Storm Out - REO Speedwagon (1973) Red Headed Stranger - Willie Nelson (1975) Frampton Comes Alive! - Peter Frampton (1976) Hi Infidelity - REO Speedwagon (1980) Thriller - Michael Jackson (1982) Superunknown - Soundgarden (1994) Scorpion - Eve (2001) Toxicity - System Of A Down (2001) Satellite - P.O.D. (2001) That They May Know You - Haste The Day (2002) 18 - Moby (2002) Demon Hunter - Demon Hunter (2002) Summer Of Darkness - Demon Hunter (2004) The Silence In Black In White - Hawthorne Heights (2004) Three Cheers For Sweet Revenge - My Chemical Romance (2004) Ascendancy - Trivium (2005) When Everything Falls - Haste The Day (2005) The Poison - Bullet For My Valentine (2005) Let It Snow Baby... Let It Reindeer - Relient K (2007) Tha Carter III - Lil Wayne (2008) Son Of The Morning - Oh, Sleeper (2009) Save Me, San Francisco - Train (2009) The God Machine - Phinehas (2011) Truth And Purpose - I The Breather (2012) California 37 - Train (2012) Beyond The Gates - For All Eternity (2012) Sleddin' Hill - August Burns Red (2012) Able Bodies - From Indian Lakes (2012) Fear Inside Our Bones - The Almost (2013) Death Will Reign - Impending Doom (2013) Life Reaper - I The Breather (2014) American Beauty / American Psycho - Fall Out Boy (2015) We Came As Romans - We Came As Romans (2015) One Love Revolution - Pillar (2015) 24K Magic - Bruno Mars (2016) Human Nature - Spirit Breaker (2017) Once In A Long, Long While... - Low Roar (2017) Ctrl - SZA (2017) Nomad - Kublai Khan (2017) Cold Like War - We Came As Romans (2017) Daytona - Pusha T (2018) Small Town Famous - Lakeview (2021) Bleed The Future - Archspire (2021) Elegy - Shadow Of Intent (2022) This Bright And Beautiful World - Greyhaven (2022) It's Almost Dry - Pusha T (2022) Spirits - Nothing More (2022) Darkbloom - We Came As Romans (2022) Cult Mentality - Avoid (2022) Heroes & Villains - Metro Boomin (2022) Friends Like These - Rhodes (2023) The Death We Seek - Currents (2023) [m]other - Veil Of Maya (2023) Sunami - Sunami (2023) Convinced - Anberlin (2023) Paper Hearts - Sleep Theory (2023) Superbloom - Silent Planet (2023) These Violent Lies - Down Again (2024) Might Delete Later - J. Cole (2024) Cure - Erra (2024) Stereo Grief - Greyhaven (2024) The Cycles Of Trying To Cope - Like Moths To Flames (2024) Stigma - Wage War (2024) The Fear Of God - Convictions (2024) Vega - Anberlin (2024) Stream Of Ache - Earth Groans (2024) Exhibition Of Prowess - Kublai Khan (2024) The Path - Sylosis (2024)
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iloveyou2004 · 2 months ago
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GING NANG BOYZ | SKOOL KILL
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womanovertheedge · 2 months ago
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Alright, alright That's what I'm talkin' about Now, everyone, give it up for the maid of honor Angelica Schuyler
A toast to the groom (to the groom, to the groom, to the groom) To the bride (to the bride, to the bride, to the bride) From your sister (Angelica, Angelica, Angelica) Who is always by your side (by your side, by your side) To your union (to the union, to the revolution) And the hope that you provide (you provide, you provide) May you always (always) Be satisfied (rewind)
Rewind, rewind Helpless (sky's, sky's, sky's, sky's) Helpless Drownin' in 'em, drownin' Rewind
I remember that night, I just might (rewind) I remember that night, I just might (rewind) I remember that night, I remember that
I remember that night, I just might Regret that night for the rest of my days I remember those soldier boys Tripping over themselves to win our praise I remember that dreamlike candlelight Like a dream that you can't quite place But Alexander, I'll never forget the first time I saw your face
I have never been the same Intelligent eyes in a hunger-pang frame And when you said, "Hi, " I forgot my dang name Set my heart aflame, every part aflame This is not a game
You strike me as a woman who has never been satisfied I'm sure I don't know what you mean You forget yourself You're like me I'm never satisfied Is that right? I have never been satisfied My name is Angelica Schuyler Alexander Hamilton Where's your family from? Unimportant, there's a million things I haven't done but Just you wait, just you wait
So, so, so So this is what it feels like to match wits With someone at your level! What the hell is the catch? It's the feeling of freedom, of seein' the light It's Ben Franklin with a key and a kite You see it, right? The conversation lasted two minutes, maybe three minutes Everything we said in total agreement It's a dream and it's a bit of a dance A bit of a posture, it's a bit of a stance He's a bit of a flirt, but I'm 'a give it a chance I asked about his family, did you see his answer? His hands started fidgeting, he looked askance? He's penniless, he's flying by the seat of his pants Handsome, boy, does he know it Peach fuzz, and he can't even grow it I wanna take him far away from this place Then I turn and see my sister's face and she is
Helpless And I know she is Helpless And her eyes are just Helpless And I realize Three fundamental truths at the exact same time
Where are you taking me? I'm about to change your life Then by all means, lead the way
Number one
I'm a girl in a world in which My only job is to marry rich My father has no sons, so I'm the one Who has to social climb for one So I'm the oldest and the wittiest and the gossip in New York City is insidious And Alexander is penniless Ha! That doesn't mean I want him any less
Elizabeth Schuyler It's a pleasure to meet you Schuyler? My sister
Number two
He's after me 'cause I'm a Schuyler sister That elevates his status, I'd Have to be naive to set that aside Maybe that is why I introduce him to Eliza Now that's his bride Nice going, Angelica, he was right You will never be satisfied
Thank you for all your service If it takes fighting a war for us to meet, it will have been worth it I'll leave you to it
Number three
I know my sister like I know my own mind You will never find anyone as trusting or as kind If I tell her that I love him, she'd be silently resigned He'd be mine She would say, "I'm fine" She'd be lying
But when I fantasize at night It's Alexander's eyes As I romanticize what might have been If I hadn't sized him up so quickly At least my dear Eliza's his wife At least I keep his eyes in my life
To the groom (to the groom, to the groom, to the groom) To the bride (to the bride, to the bride) From your sister (Angelica, Angelica, Angelica) Who is always by your side (by your side, by your side) To your union (to the union, to the revolution) And the hope that you provide (you provide, you provide) May you always (always) Be satisfied (be satisfied, be satisfied, be satisfied)
And I know (be satisfied, be satisfied, be satisfied) She'll be happy as his bride And I know He will never be satisfied I will never be satisfied
Nice.
//HI ANON LETS GET MARRIED. /jjjj congrats to being the only nice anon in my inbox rn ily >.<
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suicideenthusiast · 2 months ago
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[Laurens:] Alright, alright. That's what I'm talkin' about! Now everyone give it up for the maid of honor Angelica Schuyler!
[Angelica (all men) {all women}:] A toast to the groom! (To the groom!) (To the groom!) {(To the groom!)} To the bride! {To the bride!} (To the bride!) {To the bride!} From your sister (Angelica!) (Angelica!) {(Angelica!)} Who is always by your side (By your side) {By your side} To your union {(To the union!)} {(To the revolution!)} And the hope that you provide (You provide!) {(You provide!)} May you always… {(Always)} Be satisfied {(Rewind)}
[Recorded Samples:] Rewind, rewind Helpless, Schuyler, Schuyler Helpless Drownin' in 'em Drownin', rewind
I remember that night, I just might (rewind) I remember that night, I just might (rewind) I remember that night, I remember that
[Angelica:] I remember that night, I just might Regret that night for the rest of my days I remember those soldier boys Tripping over themselves to win our praise I remember that dreamlike candlelight Like a dream that you can't quite place But Alexander, I'll never forget the first time I saw your face
I have never been the same Intelligent eyes in a hunger-pang frame And when you said, "Hi," I forgot my dang name Set my heart aflame, every part aflame [Full Company:] This is not a game…
[Hamilton:] You strike me as a woman who has never been satisfied [Angelica:] I'm sure I don't know what you mean You forget yourself [Hamilton:] You're like me I'm never satisfied [Angelica:] Is that right? [Hamilton:] I've never been satisfied [Angelica:] My name is Angelica Schuyler [Hamilton:] Alexander Hamilton [Angelica:] Where's your family from? [Hamilton:] Unimportant There's a million things I haven't done but just you wait, just you wait…
[Angelica:] So so so... so this is what it feels like to match wits With someone at your level! What the hell is the catch? It's the feeling of freedom, of seein' the light It's Ben Franklin with a key and a kite! You see it, right?
The conversation lasted two minutes, maybe three minutes Everything we said in total agreement, it's A dream and it's a bit of a dance A bit of a posture, it's a bit of a stance
He's a bit of a flirt, but I'm 'a give it a chance I asked about his family. Did you see his answer? His hands started fidgeting, he looked askance? He's penniless, he's flying by the seat of his pants
Handsome. Boy, does he know it? Peach fuzz, and he can't even grow it! I wanna take him far away from this place Then I turn and see my sister's face And she is…
[Eliza:] Helpless… [Angelica:] And I know she is… [Eliza:] Helpless… [Angelica:] And her eyes are just… [Eliza:] Helpless… [Angelica:] And I realize [Angelica and Company:] Three fundamental truths at the exact same time…
[Hamilton:] Where are you taking me? [Angelica:] I'm about to change your life [Hamilton:] Then by all means, lead the way
[Company (except Angelica):] Number one! [Angelica:] I'm a girl in a world in which My only job is to marry rich My father has no sons so I'm the one Who has to social climb for one So I'm the oldest and the wittiest and the gossip in New York City is insidious And Alexander is penniless Ha! That doesn't mean I want him any less
[Eliza:] Elizabeth Schuyler. It's a pleasure to meet you [Hamilton:] Schuyler? [Angelica:] My sister
[Company:] Number two! [Angelica:] He's after me 'cause I'm a Schuyler sister That elevates his status, I'd Have to be naïve to set that aside Maybe that is why I introduce him to Eliza Now that's his bride Nice going, Angelica, he was right You will never be satisfied
[Eliza:] Thank you for all your service [Hamilton:] If it takes fighting a war for us to meet, it will have been worth it [Angelica:] I'll leave you to it
[Company:] Number three! [Angelica:] I know my sister like I know my own mind You will never find Anyone as trusting or as kind If I tell her that I love him she'd be silently resigned He'd be mine She would say, "I'm fine." [Angelica and Company:] She'd be lying
[Angelica:] But when I fantasize at night It's Alexander's eyes As I romanticize what might Have been if I hadn't sized Him up so quickly At least my dear Eliza's his wife; At least I keep his eyes in my life…
[Angelica (all men) {all women}:] To the groom! (To the groom!) (To the groom!) {(To the groom!)} To the bride! {To the bride!} (To the bride!) {To the bride!} From your sister (Angelica!) (Angelica!) {(Angelica!)} Who is always by your side (By your side) {By your side} To your union {(To the union!)} {(To the revolution!)} And the hope that you provide (You provide!) {(You provide!)} May you always… {(Always)} Be satisfied (Be satisfied) {Be satisfied} (Be satisfied) And I know {(Be satisfied)} (Be satisfied) (Be satisfied) (Be satisfied) She'll be happy as (Be satisfied) (Be satisfied) His bride {(Be satisfied)} And I know (Be satisfied) (Be satisfied) (Be satisfied) {Be satisfied} He will never be satisfied I will never be satisfied
HUHH
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wystiix · 3 months ago
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Dare me to jump off of this Jersey bridge
I'll bet you've never had a Friday night like this
Keep it up, keep it up, let's raise our hands
I take a look up at the sky and I see red
Red for the cancer, red for the wealthy
Red for the drink that's mixed with suicide, everything red
Please, won't you push me for the last time?
Let's scream until there's nothing left
So sick of playing, I don't want this anymore
The thought of you is no fucking fun
You want a martyr? I'll be one
Because enough's enough, we're done
You told me think about it, well I did
Now I don't wanna feel a thing anymore
I'm tired of begging for the things that I want
I'm over sleeping like a dog on the floor
The thing I think I love will surely bring me pain
Intoxication, paranoia, and a lot of fame
Three cheers for throwing up, pubescent drama queen
You make me sick, I make it worse by drinking late
Scream until there's nothing left
So sick of playing, I don't want to anymore
The thought of you is no fucking fun
You want a martyr? I'll be one
Because enough's enough, we're done
You told me think about it, well I did
Now I don't wanna feel a thing anymore
I'm tired of begging for the things that I want
I'm over sleeping like a dog on the floor
Imagine living like a king someday
A single night without a ghost in the walls
And if the bass shakes the earth underground
We'll start a new revolution now
Now
Hail Mary, forgive me
Blood for blood, hearts beating
Come at me
Now this is war
(Fuck with this new beat)
Now terror begins inside a bloodless vein
I was just a product of the street youth rage
Born in this world without a voice or say
Caught in the spokes with an abandoned brain
I know you well, but this ain't a game
Blow the smoke in diamond shape
Dying is a gift, so close your eyes and rest in peace
You told me think about it, well I did
Now I don't wanna feel a thing anymore
I'm tired of begging for the things that I want
I'm over sleeping like a dog on the floor
Imagine living like a king someday
A single night without a ghost in the walls
We are the shadows screaming, take us now
We'd rather die than live to rust on the ground (shit)
WHAT THE HELL HELP ME
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unhingedwomandiaries · 5 months ago
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Signed up for a free will writing course today because apparently, I hate myself. Not like I needed to be there – just my mother-in-law's latest crusade to make me a Proper Adult™. My parents think it's fucking mental to write a will without sprouting mini-mes first. They didn't bother until my brother came screaming into existence, right after they'd secured their slice of suburban paradise. Because that's what normal people do, isn't it? Pop out a kid, buy a house, write a will. Tick fucking tock.
The instructor – this patronizing twat who probably thinks childlessness is contagious ��� starts banging on about how unusual it is to not have produced offspring in our modern utopia. Her solution? Chuck your worldly shit at some random charity after you've shuffled off this mortal coil. Cheers for that, love. Really helping with the existential crisis. Not like I chose this barren existence – that choice got ripped away faster than my hopes of ever hearing "Mummy" from something that isn't a cat. Now I'm left fantasizing about non-existent sprogs having a punch-up over my corpse and pension pennies.
Then we're told to map out our family trees like we're auditioning for Who Do You Think You Are?. Sixteen bloody godchildren, thirty-three first cousins, three nieces, and forty-nine second cousins. It's like my family tree is less "tree" and more "invasive species." Used to be thick as thieves with the cousins until they all went and got married and started breeding like rabbits on fertility drugs. Now we're about as close as Britain and Europe after Brexit.
So here I am, trying to pick which worthy cause gets to inherit my pathetic fortune. Should it be dad's dodgy ticker that wiped out half the family? Great uncle's WWI trauma that probably explains why we're all so fucked up? The Vietnam War that ate my uncles? My godfather's rainbow revolution? Grandad's brain turning to soup? Or should I just send it all to bloody SpongeBob's mate Sandy for all it matters?
Fuck it. Maybe I'll leave it all to nothing. Seems fitting – a big fat zero for a world that keeps taking and taking.
Currently contemplating mortality while drinking wine straight from the bottle.
P.S. If anyone needs me, I'll be writing "nothing" in increasingly elaborate ways on my will draft.
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