#and it wasn't even the capital T work

[cyberroses]

Still really really trying to get a job that's not like owned by "technically family" that has access to me 24/7 because that so far has meant that there really is no boundaries concerning the "hussle time" so fo speak

[sicksadgames]

As the Sun Forever Sets - Terror in the time of the Telegraph

It’s nuts I’ve been working on this game for over 4 years at this point. As the Sun Forever Sets is for sure my biggest and most capital G Game. It even has a publisher and everything. It’s also my first game! Wow! It's been tough, though. We'll get into it!

Britain, 1899

As the Sun Forever Sets is a survival horror sandbox based on the War of the Worlds, utilises the Forged in the Dark ruleset, and is about ordinary people surviving a Martian invasion of Victorian era Britain. We play to find out how they rise to meet the storm of destruction, the ways in which it shapes them, and if they survive to see a new world emerge, or die amidst the rubble of the old.

In the last years of Queen Victoria’s reign, the British Empire stretches across a quarter of the globe, and under the guise of genteel progress and civilisation, it commits theft and murder on a global scale. Britain itself is on the verge of the modern era, the Second Industrial Revolution pushing people into the cities to drive the factories and forges owned by the greedy industrialist class. But beyond the common causes of humanity and unbeknownst to the men who impose their rule over it, vast wheels have begun their inexorable turning. Across 40 million miles of void, the Martian invasion hurtles Earthward. Screaming across the stars, instruments of annihilation unlike anything believed possible lie ready for assembly, alongside the Martians themselves. They are truly inscrutable beings, but their intent is as clear as it is terrible – they will suck the literal and figurative blood from the Earth, and nothing less than the complete and utter subjugation of humanity will be enough.

If this sounds cool to you... well, you gotta wait, it’s not done yet. Sorry! But you can come and hang out in the Sick Sad Games discord, where I post excerpts and occasionally organise playtests.

The Hard Times of (Old) England

Be warned, this is a long one - over 4000 words (if you don't have a Tumblr account, you won't get to the end before it starts bugging you to register one, so go read this on Medium instead.) It turns out when you work on a game for a long time, you have a lot to say about it. Strap in, grab your gin and laudanum, and let’s destroy an evil empire just by existing.

Thanks to the wonderful @hendrik-ten-napel for taking a look over my disorganised thoughts.

(Potential) Spoilers for: The Bear, The War of the Worlds, The Last of Us, Children of Men, Threads, When the Wind Blows, Amnesia: A Machine for Pigs, The Thing.

Roleplay in the Pre-Post-Apocalypse

TTRPGs love a good post apocalypse. It's understandable - gas up and ride glorious on the legally distinct fury road, run a commune of like minded weirdos in the ashes of the old world, go digging through retro-futuristic ruins to find retro-futuristic treasures. Who wouldn't want to do any of these? But As the Sun Forever Sets is about an apocalypse as it begins, not after it’s over. 

There's a lot of crossover, of course. There’s a focus on similar things - disaster and spectacle, relationships and trust, scavenging and survival. But the bonus of the world not yet being over, is that we get to roleplay out dealing with that terrible, inexorable reality.

HG Wells wrote a book about blowing up all the places he used to live, and it's a banger. I was surprised to find there wasn't a TTRPG based on the War of the Worlds, being the tantalisingly public domain ur-alien invasion story it is. As the Sun Forever Sets is very explicitly an adaption of it, to the point that before I came up with the name it almost got released as The War of the Worlds: The Roleplaying Game (lol). I'm glad I didn't, doing my own thing has meant both me and the people playing are way more free to fuck around without the expectation that it must adhere to a canon.

The book is good, strikingly modern feeling in parts, and obviously massively influential - so much science fiction can be traced back to our nameless Narrators tormentuous trek across the south of England. But Wells’ prose is typical Victorian - overly wordy and florid (any book that contains the word “ejaculating” meaning “to shout” might be difficult for readers who aren’t used to the style), so when it comes to recommending an actual adaptation, there’s only one true king. Whenever I bring up Jeff Wayne’s The War of the Worlds, the usual reaction from anyone outside of the UK is to say "... they made a what?"

My mom was very keen to get me into musicals, but nothing really stuck until she tried this, the secret best War of the Worlds adaption (sorry Steven Spielberg, but you were doomed from the start.) It's the bombast and drama you'd expect from a disaster film, the horror and pathos of Wells’ classic, all expressed through vivid narration and sick nasty prog rock - wailing guitar and crunchy 70's synths operating at full effect. It's not completely faithful to the book, it doesn't matter. It’s the best.

Ah yes, the film bro's favourite mid 2000's film. Did you see that sick oner? That’s six minutes without a cut, that means the film’s good right? Children of Men is a slow burn apocalypse, dressed up like a world that’s already ended. Plenty has been written about all the little ways the film is prescient about the state of the UK - the slow belly-crawl into facism and nationalist fervour, the particularly British decay and class divide exacerbated by the desperate times, even the willful ignorance and the explicit sense that everyone’s just given up, it’s all here.

All that thematic stuff seems like it’d be really relevant to As the Sun Forever Sets, right?

Unfortunately, we are in fact here to talk about the long takes. The unbroken moment-to-moment action scenes evoke The War of the Worlds to a tee. Theo navigates danger with the same fraught tactical tension as War of the World's Narrator - dashing between doorways, groping for an axe handle in the darkness, desperately trying to start a car as assailants sprint towards him. What’s the best way out of this situation? How do I get from here to where I need to be? He lives his life in rolling, fleeting 5 second intervals, because he’s forgotten what it means to think in the long term - about the future, and what it might hold.

I was always fascinated and terrified by the idea of nuclear war. I guess it comes from watching a lot of 90’s disaster movies, but those are often ultimately fun romps where the day gets saved at the end, or at least the main characters find themselves alive and well at the end of the saga of destruction. Instead, As the Sun Forever Sets asks you to reflect on the horror and sadness present at the end of the world. Things are going to change forever, and change is always hard.

There’s not many clips of Threads and When the Wind Blows online, so it’s a little hard to demonstrate their particular nuclear inflected pitch black darkness. They’re grim - Grave of the Fireflies grim - differing in focus but united in their horrible impact.

When the Wind Blows is a story of an elderly couple living in rural England when the bombs drop, based on the comic by Raymond Briggs. Yes, The Snowman’s Raymond Briggs made a film about 2 lovely grandparents dying of acute radiation poisoning. Jim and Hilda are completely unprepared for what’s to come, their only reference is the Blitz - terrible in its own way, but not a patch on the scale of death they’re about to experience.

They survive the blast and wait for the good old British Government to arrive to save them, as it did in the 40’s. Slowly liquifying in the nuclear fallout, they hold onto each other and keep their spirits up, eventually making the decision to clamber into the paper sacks they mistakenly believed might protect them from the blast. Clutching their medical cards and birth certificates (for the ambulance, sure to be along any minute now), Jim mumbles painfully through a final prayer that morphs into a misremembered Charge of the Light Brigade, and they slip into a perpetual slumber together.

The most tragic part is Jim and Hilda’s unshakeable faith that their government is there for them - ready to catch them when they fall - borne out of Britain’s post WW2 renewal but absent in the 1980’s of the film’s plot, and the Britain of today. It’s a masterful film, shockingly sad, but the shock is the point.

Instead of aiming for your heart, Threads aims for the head. It’s a drama that aims to be as accurate as possible to government research into what a nuclear war might look like, plainly and forensically setting it out without any thought of softening these hard facts for its audience. Rather than focusing on a personal story, Threads flits around several groups of characters - minor government figures and ordinary families. Like Jim and Hilda, they too are woefully unprepared for the end of the world, and those in charge know there’s no way the UK could ever be ready for such a thing.

As mundane life is quietly intruded upon by news updates detailing far off geopolitics and the subsequent escalation that leads to war, the tension rises subtly then suddenly, like a spacecraft on the launchpad. People we’ve seen pottering about their normal lives are maimed and evaporated in the subsequent shocking nuclear exchange, whilst stark statistics flash on the screen - the hundreds of thousands instantly killed, how long the millions more fatally irradiated have left to live, the woefully inadequate tonnage of stockpiled food to feed those who survive. Each zero hits like a gutpunch.

And when you think the film must nearly be over, it keeps going. 1 week later. 1 year later. Threads grinds to an excruciating halt 13 years after the bombs fall, after year upon year of failed harvests from a destroyed earth barely able to support a population level equivalent to medieval Britain. At one point, mute children watch a warped and scratchy VHS of classic kids educational programme Words and Pictures on a TV powered by a steam generator.

The friendly presenter spells out the word “cat” through the thick veil of static, accompanied by a picture of one - an animal the children watching will likely never see. As they watch with blank, emotionless faces, the image of the cat fades to one of its skeletal form. “A cat’s skeleton” the presenter enthusiastically intones. The unrelenting bleakness might feel like a punishment, but Threads doesn’t mean it to be. This is just what would happen, after all.

Love in the time of the Heat-ray

In fact, someone in a Reddit thread said As the Sun Forever Sets “wasn’t just endless misery” and I’m glad that comes across. I wanted there to be moments of tenderness, quiet joy, anger, frustration, love and loss to punctuate the action and the horror.

People are messy and complicated even at the best of times. Under pressure, this is amplified a thousandfold - a little crush becomes a whirlwind romance, small disagreements become full blown fights, and not fully understanding someone might transform them into an enemy in your head.

The little town Bill conspires to be left alone in ends up comparatively untouched by the horrors going on elsewhere, as untouched as anywhere can be in The Last of Us. He hated the world anyways - so he isolates himself as he prepares for it to end, and it makes sense that his life only really begins as the show does. When Frank arrives, Bill is forced not to just engage with the broader world outside of his little enclave, but in the act of truly living in it.

There’s no prepper’s guide to romance. A human heart can’t be field stripped for maintenance. By choosing to exist as a vulnerable, emotional being, Bill opens himself up to a different kind of apocalypse. Frank becomes the flowering vines that slowly crack the flat concrete wall of a world that Bill created, and when those vines die, the wall can only crumble. It’s so fraught and lovely, delicately yet absolutely gut wrenching. At least their apocalypse was one they decided to have together.

“I’m old. I’m satisfied. And you… were my purpose.” - "Long Long Time”, The Last of Us

While several of my TTRPG writing friends were gushing about how great The Bear is, Em Acosta, author of the wonderfully inspirational Exile pointed out something super interesting - a lot of the show is about how you deal with people you’ve found yourself stuck with. No matter how much they piss you off, or whatever they do wrong, there’s something that means you can’t ever let them truly exit your life. They’re there, like it or not, until the bitter end.

Turns out this is very similar to how As the Sun Forever Sets handles Player Character relationships. In both it and The Bear, nothing’s ever truly resolved between characters - every relationship is like a cooking pot perpetually simmering. You might’ve apologised, made a truce, or just ignored your issues for so long that they seem to disappear, but no matter what, you’ve got to keep your eye on that pot.

Because suddenly a crisis will hit, and someone says something, or a diceroll comes up bad and all of a sudden the pot boils over and things are once again fucked. You storm out, start screaming, throw a fork. Even in the worst case scenario where a Character leaves because they’re absolutely sick of the rest of the group, they might show up at the end of the game for one last scene. Who knows how you’ll all feel at the end - nothing is ever truly fixed, and only the dead are truly broken. 

“I quit, chef, is what’s going on. You are an excellent chef. You are also a piece of shit. This isn’t on me. Goodbye." - “The Review”, The Bear

I’ve talked about The Thing a little before, John Carpenters sweaty, paranoid antarctic masterpiece. Along with the incredible effects and the (mostly) restrained use of action and bombast, the thing that makes... The Thing work is that the staff of the stricken research base lack any and all emotional intelligence.

It’s sort of the ultimate reverse Dudes Rock movie. Nobody knows anything about each other, so when their bodies and minds are colonised by the titular chameleon from outer space, they’re just another stranger to the rest of the crew. I’d ask you a question only you would know the answer to, but uh.. I don’t know anything about you. Whoops!

Over the course of the film, the whole operation falls apart as they try their best to work together to deal with the alien interloper, but their complete lack of ability to trust or relate to each other - present even before the crisis they find themselves in - is their ultimate downfall.

That final excellent shot of MacReady and Childs sat in the snow at the end of the film as their compound burns around them is the subject of a lot of unnecessary theorycrafting youtube videos, which kind of misses the point. Each suspects the other, but ultimately it doesn’t matter if one of them’s a Thing. One stranger is the same as another. Why bother getting to know each other now?

“Well...What do we do?” “Why don't we just... wait here for a little while? See what happens.” - Childs and Macready, The Thing

Science Fiction Revenge Fantasy

I’m not a historian, but the parallels between 1899 and now are pretty plain to see. Increasing class disparity, a lack of political will to help those in need, rampant cronyism and profiteering. As long as you’re in the place for it, roleplaying in a fictionalised version of the past to air out the issues of the present can be super fun and cathartic. You’re not expected to get a degree in British history to make it work, either.

The title is a play on the phrase “The Sun Never Set on the British Empire”, and it’s plainly stated in the book that Britains Empire acted as a mechanism of genocidal oppression, and that the Martians are here to end it - intentionally or not. It’s appealing as a premise on the face of it, but it goes a little deeper. Memories of Empire echo across time in Britain like the ringing of a malevolent bell, a cause celebre for braying Tories and fascistic right wing cunts (two very close circles in the venn diagram.)

We used to be a great country before this woke nonsense. Things were better back in the old days. The DEI contingent is trying to destroy our noble past. Yada yada yada, fuck offff. I’m sure someone somewhere will accuse me of “wokewashing” the past for including explicitly trans and queer characters as part of the book, along with the historical facts around how we fit into the oppressive Victorian conception of sex and gender. Unfortunately for them, we’ve always been here.

To be a little pretentious about it, every game of As the Sun Forever Sets reaches back into the past and cuts the myth of a glorious and benevolent Empire, and the good old days enjoyed within it off at the neck, purely in the act of beginning one. That sparks a little joy for me. Destroying a racists dream is fun, even if it’s only in the abstract.

A horror game about the most literalist Victorian industrialist imaginable hearing the phrase “Eat the rich” and getting right on that. I’ve not played Amnesia: A Machine for Pigs despite fond (??) memories of playing The Dark Descent in a room full of jumpy friends, and seeing Dear Esther played live on stage, with a live orchestra and narrator - an exquisite way to experience that game.

The mechanical chops of Frictional Games mixed with the narrative verve of The Chinese Room, how could this game be anything less than incredible?

After The Dark Descent I fell off’ve the “scary guy chases you around” genre of game until Alien: Isolation revitalised it, and the reviews of A Machine for Pigs were mixed - kind of boring, middling gameplay, too dark - so I never went back. I was planning on writing a little about its vibe - dark, gothic Victoriana that rhymes nicely with As the Sun Forever Sets - but after a bit of research, Mandus’ quest for his missing sons strikes an unexpectedly resonant and terrible chord.

The writing and voice acting is phenomenal, Mandus’ split consciousness - the self you play and the other half of him that’s seen the horrors of the forthcoming 20th Century and is compelled to act, imbued into the myopic machine he built - is extremely compelling. He feels compassion for the poor and wants to save them, but they fill him with fear and disgust. He knows the industrialist class is killing the world, but feels a deep shame in the fact that he counts himself amongst them. So his machine grinds the rich into meat for the poor, who it distorts into grotesque pig homunculi and forces them to operate the machine’s inscrutable workings.

It’s Mandus’ twisted way of saving the world - kill the rich for their crimes, enslave the poor for their own good, all hail the new machine/god/manager of the 20th century. It’s a neat reflection of the way modern politicians contort themselves to the whims of big business and AI snake oil salesmen to avoid doing the simple and obvious things that’d better the world. It’s a nightmarish refutation of Victorian Liberalism, that only the upper class know how to fix the problems of the lower class. It’s brilliant, and we should play it. 

"Do you hear me Mandus? This is what you planned! This world is a machine! A Machine for Pigs! Fit only for the slaughtering of pigs! Whores, beggars, orphans, filthy degenerates. Pigs all. But I will purify the streets, cleanse this city, set the great industry free. I will clean the world, make it pure." - The Machine, A Machine for Pigs

Song of the Year, of the Century

Not long after I came out as trans, I was asked what (in an ideal world) would make transition easier. I replied - never having to leave the house. One day I'd shut the front door as a man and another day, months or years later, I'd open it again as a woman, neatly sidestepping the terror of being perceived in a notoriously transphobic Britain.

In 2020 I shut that door and didn't open it for 4 months. At work, I remember calling the nearby shelter to donate our excess hand sanitizer and toilet roll, figuring out at the last second how support workers could take calls from their already isolated clients via their mobile phones, and fixating on the steady stream of scared coworkers leaving early. Tearfully, I felt the urge to hug those that remained as we locked up, before we remembered we probably shouldn't.

I've never been more aware of the minutia of moving through a space on the way home - How many people had their hands on this handrail? Have I touched my mouth or eyes without realising? Is anyone in the office already sick? Or on this train? How many more people are going to die? - My heart was in my chest, I heard the blood whoosh through my head to the beat of my steps on the pavement. At home, I realised my boyfriend had to go into work the next day. After he went to sleep, terrified he might die, I cried.

"I remember I felt an extraordinary persuasion that I was being played with, that presently, when I was upon the very verge of safety, this mysterious death—as swift as the passage of light—would leap after me from the pit about the cylinder, and strike me down." - "The Heat Ray", The War of the Worlds

Writing As the Sun Forever Sets was my way of coping with the disconnect with the world I felt, the fear of both Covid and the rising transphobia kept me inside even as the lockdowns eased. That feeling of throbbing death creeping at the window took a long time to wrestle under control, and getting deeply obsessed with a big project became part of that process. It seems incredibly maudlin to make a TTRPG dealing with darkness and death during a pandemic that killed (and continues to kill) millions of people, but I suppose I’m kind of a maudlin person.

“I haven't written a song in a month, So I'm playing the same chords again. I know I need to get lost in the moment, But I get lost before it begins. Fingers stretching out into space. Reaching as a thought slips away.”

It also burnt me the fuck out. After years of constant work and testing (beginning long before Evil Hat picked up the game), I ran out of steam. I spent the months after Evil Hat’s public playtest ended not really able to write anything ATSFS related at all. The game kind of froze - I knew what I wanted to change or fix or add, but the moment the google doc opened I couldn’t make myself start typing. It was incredibly frustrating to have the switch flip from endless obsessive writing to constant nothing, and I don’t think I truly recognised the burnout I was feeling until recently. It turns out spending years staying up past midnight writing is bad, who know!

A lot of Forged in the Dark games don’t get finished (or more accurately, get stuck in perpetual development), something that the excellent and dearly missed +1 Forward podcast recognised in their episode collecting their thoughts on the FITD games they looked at back in 2021. I think that’s because, at least to me, writing a Forged in the Dark game is like trying to hold a plate of spaghetti without the plate. It’s deceptively simple at its heart, but the system squirms when you poke at it - write one thing and it affects 3 other things. Tug one piece of pasta out and you lose a meatball without realising it.

When I listened to that episode, I took it as a challenge. Part of me now wonders if it was a curse. I'm being hyperbolic, of course. But a little part of me did think it might be better to give the game up.

That’s not going to be As the Sun Forever Sets' fate, thankfully. Evil Hat has been there to support me when I’ve felt guilty about shifting another deadline or replying to a check-in email with another late “Not much progress this month, sorry!” The frozen writers block is thawing, and I’m so tantalisingly close to finishing the final text. This blog is part of that process, another chip in the icy dam.

The wheels of dread Martian terror turn once again, and it feels good. Part of that is down to not beating myself up about a lack of progress. The more important part came when I realised I felt able to return to the world again - living in it, not hiding from it. Staying connected to it, even when there's times I'm not able to inhabit it physically. Covid, Britains particular brand of transphobic brainworms, and the shadow of Empire all continue to exist, and so do I - a weird maudlin transsexual woman - in spite of them all.

“The day seemed, by contrast with my recent confinement, dazzlingly bright, the sky a glowing blue. A gentle breeze kept the red weed that covered every scrap of unoccupied ground gently swaying. And oh! the sweetness of the air!” - “The Stillness”, The War of the Worlds

You made it!

Thanks for sticking with my messy thoughts. If what I talked about here sounds cool to you, please stop by the Discord, we'd love to have you. Look forward to seeing As the Sun Forever Sets come to a crowdfunding platform of Evil Hat's choice (I assume backerkit) at some point in the future ♥.

[sapphire-weapon]

I've been thinking about this whole thing wrt Leon's morality and his conflict wrt his relationship to the government, and like

there's a big part of the story that's getting lost in all of this.

From 1999-2005, Leon was basically the government's little bitch. He was being held under duress via threats to Sherry's life and had absolutely no power, autonomy, or esteem within the government.

But after RE4, that completely changes. Yes, he still can't leave because of Sherry, but he starts to gain clout, and a sort of mythology surrounding him begins to form within the ranks of the government and the military. This is then amplified following Degeneration, especially after Ron Davis is found dead in his office (even though this wasn't Leon's doing; it was Tricell's -- but it was still Leon's actions that led to that moment).

We see the effects of that at the start of Infinite Darkness.

So then, fast forward to the end of ID -- the reason why Leon buries the story of what happened during ID wasn't because he was under orders to. I don't know where that perception comes from.

Leon buries the story at the end of ID as a thank you to President Graham. President Graham comes right to the edge of declaring war against a nation that didn't deserve it, but then he pivots at the very last second possible entirely based on Leon's word.

So, at this point, Leon has every reason to believe that he can effect change from within while also protecting people who have been good to him (in this case, the Grahams). And, as far as we know, there were no further incidents under President Graham's administration.

Then Adam Benford takes office, and now Leon has reached almost legendary status within the US government. He's able to -- seemingly right away -- get Benford to agree to open lines of communication with the BSAA (completely reversing course on the US's foreign policy up to that point), and the two of them work together to form the DSO. Remember -- the DSO was, at least in part, Leon's fucking idea.

Going into RE6, Leon has an enormous amount of political capital and uses it to the best of his ability. At this point in the series, if Leon wanted to start a civil war in the US, he'd have enough agencies and big enough chunks of the military behind him in order to do it. This is why Helena sought him out in the first place.

But then Derek Simmons turns out to be The Deep State (lmao), Leon is forced to kill Benford, and then we don't really know the state of the US government since then. It seems to not be going great, but we don't know why, and we won't know why until RE9 comes out.

If I had to guess, I'm willing to bet that Leon lost a lot of his esteem thanks to the events of RE6. Despite his legendary reputation, he still allowed Raccoon City 2.0 to happen under his watch in the form of Tall Oaks; Simmons was right under his nose the whole time, and Leon never sniffed him out -- so, not only did a fucking US President end up dead as a result, but the US was also then forced to put boots on the ground in China. It was a shitshow.

So, Vendetta and Death Island were almost kind of like... Leon attempting (and mostly failing) to claw his way back to where he was in his career pre-RE6.

Like, Leon has been an effective force for good in the US government. Him being a government agent doesn't make him morally gray because, within the confines of the story, he uses that position to enact positive change. And that's probably the biggest reason why he doesn't just leave.

But the conflict within his character comes in because he never wanted to be in this position in the first place and he resents it as a result, and the high-ranking officials around him -- with the exception of Graham and Benford -- don't engage with him in good faith. But he really just wants to cling to the belief that if he keeps doing a good job, they eventually will -- because he also knows that he'll have to take far more drastic measures within the government if he accepts that they won't.

And he knows that he can take those more drastic measures. It's within his power to do so. Because, at one point, he could have conceivably started a civil war.

But, being a Good Guy, he doesn't want that. So the conflict in his character persists.

[peacheises]

×+×+×+ Random Death the Kid splurbs +×+×+×

/Reader's Gender/: Irrelevant, not mentioned

/SFW ofc/

Honestly just me simping for this boy, I simply adore him! He's just so funny>< My cringe, 2000s - 2010s mindset just eats up all the very angsty content that is just a beautiful snapshot of the era! I wish I could have just have been old enough to have experienced it myself T^T

_______________________________________

MMMMM THIS BOY HAS NO DARN RIGHT BEING THIS /FINE/.

Okay but seriously how did you land him, I want clear cut directions and instructions.

All the girls (and even some boys👁👁) are INCREDIBLY jealous of you. Kid's the cutest boy in the school!

/And/ he is Lord Death's son! Literally just about every girl is seething at you when you walk past them, biting on their shirt/dress collars all angry like.

If I had to guess, it was probably you who asked him out.

He may be absolutely gorgeous, stunning, and have a silver tongue but that doesn't exactly mean he knows how to use any of it....

What I'm saying is is guy is /awkward/ with a capital A.

Sweetheart with good intentions once you get to his core and can find a way to look past his obsession with folding toilet paper, but still awkward regardless.

So whether you boldly walked up to him and declared your love with a bouquet of roses and dramatic lighting and music or you were stumbling over your words, on the verge of crying and soiling your pants, and just giving up and running away- you were still the one to ask him out first.

Depending on how you asked I can see him responding in a plethora of ways but my favourite is dead ass looking you in the eye and saying "Even though I'm asymmetrical garbage?" while a singular tear just dramatically trails down his cheek.

Realistically he probably just said yes at first cuz he had nothing better to do. Or if you were the ladder option of the before, probably felt bad.

But the more time you guys hung out the more he found himself beginning to actually /like/ like you.

Maybe you were helping him snap back into focus during his episodes- or maybe you were trying to make him happy by dressing as symmetrically as you could and folding your toilet paper. (Even if it wasn't perfect, it's the sentiment that counted for him this time.)

At first, it just felt weird when you weren't around and he would find himself thinking about you in those situations. But then he started finding himself actively seeking you out when you weren't there.

He would be having a perfectly normal Sunday and then he would find a picture that reminded him of you in a magazine or maybe saw a shirt in the clothes store's window that he thought you would look cute in.

Then he would begin to wonder what you were doing at that moment. He would find himself missing your presence. And when he noticed this, he immediately denied it.

He just agreed to hang out cuz he felt bad/was bored, right? /Right?/

But it kept happening, more and more. It began to happen when he was on missions, he would get distracted and slip up. Okay, this wasn't working out. He needed to do something about this.

He asked you to partner with him on missions.

Let's assume you're a weapon in this scenario. (If you're a meister you just go with him with your own weapon.)

His excuse was "Well if Liz or Patty is out of commission, I can't fight. And since you're a set of perfectly symmetrical twin blades you would make for an excellent back up."

So you started going on missions with him, a lot.

But one time, Patty got sick. So just you and Kid went on the mission while Liz stayed home to take care of her.

This started happening more and more. (Not the Patty getting sick part, although she did probably get sick off of eating crayons regularly a few times.)

At this point, you were essentially going on as many solo missions with him that he had gone on and goes on with Liz and Patty.

But what really made him realise that he does actually like.... /like/ like you was when the two of you resonated souls.

It was weird, being able to hear each other's unfiltered thoughts.

He learned about a lot of weird things that go on inside your head after that- but that's besides the point.

Point being, with how easily the two of you resonated souls without having ever practised before was kind of the last nudge he needed before he decided to stop running from and denying his genuine feelings for you.

He didn't really change much after that, after all you don't exactly become a new person immediately after he acknowledged his feelings, but he did seem a lot happier once he came to terms with it; lot less tense at least.

He seemed a lot less hesitant when asking you out for a spot of tea and was /a lot/ less hesitant when touching you. Of course he still isn't /huge/ on PDA outside of hand holding, but he doesn't feel the need to slather his hands in hand sanitizer after holding yours and doesn't ask you where you've been before hugging you.

That and he doesn't do the awkward side hug anymore, he iniates actual hugs now. Not often, like I said he isn't much into PDA and probably- no, /definitely/ doesn't like his clothes wrinkled but.... maybe he doesn't mind so much when it's you.

After all, he /does/ love you.

And you fold the toilet paper for him.

[humanitys-strongest-bamf]

Unyielding Duty (Part 1) | #LeviMonth2024 Two-Shot

✧ word count ➼ ~2.2k ✧ notes ➼ royal princess!reader x knight!levi, forbidden love, soulmates!au, hurt/comfort, sfw in this part but following-up with n.sfw tomorrow ✧ comments ➼ levi month entry for august 8! like before, this got too long, so i'm splitting it into two parts and combining the respective tropes! ✧ join my levi month taglist here!

{{ August 6 (Love At First Sight + Neighbors Part 1) | August 9 (Royalty + Soulmates Part 2) }} Masterlist

You had been on the run for a few days. It was for no other reason than being forced into a position that you had been fighting against all your life to no avail. Being the royal princess made things complicated. You were expected to be obedient and subservient, while simultaneously carrying yourself in a way worthy of a respectful leader, however the hell that was supposed to work. It was suffocating and you couldn't take another second of it—so you ran.

Having run out of food for the week, you found yourself at the market at one of the local villages that was a bit further out from the capital. Being on the run meant a few things, with the most important things being the fact that you couldn't show your face, and you had no cash to pay the vendors with.

Stealing a few servings of produce from some of the busier vendors was generally an easy task, but fate didn't seem to be on your side today. People turned towards you at the wrong time, and before long, you had been caught red-handed.

What was truly concerning was when you made eye contact with the guard that some of the vendors had summoned to apprehend you. As far as you knew, the royal guard shouldn't have extended out this far, so their presence was already odd.

Your heart dropped as you looked into those familiar gray eyes, immediately realizing who it was—Levi.

Quickly dropping your stolen products onto the ground, you ran into the backalleys as fast as you could. Given the fact that Levi was the one that physically trained you, it was almost a guaranteed that he'd recognize who you were as soon as you started running, if he hadn't already put the pieces together the minute he saw your shoddy disguise.

Levi Ackerman was your knight and royal protector, which made it his duty to ensure your safety and bring you back home. He had responded to some rumors of a thief that vaguely matched your description, without any real hope that this trail would actually turn into anything.

He sighed heavily as he watched you flee, both relieved that you were alright and dreading the conversation that he knew he'd have to have with you. He rarely struggled with maintaining his duties, but it was something entirely different when it came to you. He loved you, but you had your role as the princess, and he had his as your protector. The rules were clear, and yet here he was, conflicted between his duty and his heart. Although he had always maintained those boundaries, even he couldn't deny that the two of you had been rapidly falling for each other throughout the past couple of years.

Finally making the decision to go after you, Levi sprinted towards the direction in which you ran, knowing your patterns. He had taught you everything you knew, so it wasn't a surprise to him when he saw you vaulting over objects and making your way onto the rooftop of a nearby building to try to lose him.

You didn't even have to look back to know that he was catching up to you. Your stamina was nothing when compared to his. If you didn't run now, then there would be no chance of getting away, if that was what you even wanted.

You desperately wanted to see him, and to explain that you still loved him despite running away, yet you kept running, fueled by the fear of what he'd say to you when he looked you in the eye. You had left him behind without a single word.

Looking over your shoulder to see that Levi had already made his way onto the same rooftop, your eyes darted across the scene in front of you to try to find a way to possibly leap onto the roof of another building or find an escape route.

With a swift leap, Levi easily closed the distance between you, catching you by the waist just as you reached the edge of the rooftop. His grip was firm but gentle, preventing you from falling while also making it clear that he wasn't going to let you go without a conversation.

"Stop running, _____," he said, his voice soft yet filled with a sense of urgency.

"Put me down, Levi!" you scolded as you tried to squirm out of his grasp.

Levi held you firmly against him, his grip unyielding despite your squirming. He ignored your demand, instead focusing on maintaining his balance on the rooftop.

"I won't put you down until we've talked. You can't keep running away from your problems."

Levi hadn't gotten any official reasoning as to why you had suddenly disappeared when the King announced that you were missing, but he knew you well enough to know that it was likely due to some type of conflict with the King.

You continued to squirm for a bit longer, scowling at him for appearing to berate you for abandoning your duties, before eventually groaning in defeat and conceding.

"Fine, we'll talk. Can you at least set me down so that you're not carrying me around like a child?"

Once he put you down and got you settled, you patted your shirt to dust yourself off, looking down at the ground and refusing to look back up at him.

You heard him take a step closer, his body only inches away from yours. You could feel the warmth emanating from him, and it brought back memories of your time around him. During your many nights away, you longed to see him again and fall into his arms, but you had run away from the castle so abruptly that you were convinced that he hated you. The fear of seeing that pain reflected in his eyes kept your gaze fixated onto the ground.

You froze as you heard him call out your name, reaching his hand out briefly before pulling it back, as if he was afraid to go through with the gentle act of affection.

"Why did you leave?" he asked softly, his voice filled with a mix of concern and longing. He wanted to understand what could have possibly driven you to abandon your duties and flee from everything you knew without a word.

He knew you well. He knew that you were unsatisfied with your life at the palace, but he never thought it'd drive you to flee the safe haven of the castle walls, and into a world that would only do you harm.

After a moment of silence, you forced yourself to look up into his eyes, feeling a pang in your heart upon seeing the soft look in them—the same one that you had been craving ever since you left.

"...father wanted to marry me off to some noble from the south," you mumbled. "We got into a fight. I got upset, and so...I ran."

You could see the hurt in his eyes. Although he wouldn't vocalize it, knowing that it'd do more harm than good, you knew what was going through his head. You didn't trust him enough to go to him, instead choosing to run and leave everything behind, including him.

"I just," your lips parted again as you spoke, but you found yourself struggling to find your words. "I just felt like I was suffocating in that castle, and that I couldn't spend another second trapped within its walls."

You looked down again, biting on your lip to try to contain the guilt building within you.

"...I'm sorry I left you behind," you whispered.

"Don't apologize," Levi responded softly, but with conviction, refusing to let you continue pouring salt onto your own wounds. "It's not fair, and you shouldn't have to be subjected to that. I know."

"...is it really so wrong of me to just want to be with you?" you muttered quietly, afraid of speaking it out loud, but also unable to keep it buried any longer. "I don't care for the throne—never have—but the idea of being away from you or being with anyone but you just sounded so...agonizing."

Levi remained silent, listening intently as you confessed your true feelings. He couldn't deny the emotions that welled up within him at your words, but he knew that as your protector, he had to maintain a certain level of detachment.

"I care for you deeply," he admitted, his voice soft and comforting, but you knew that there was going to be a follow-up—likely one that was going to fill you with pain and regret for voicing it out loud. "You know this. But my role as your protector comes first. I cannot let my personal feelings interfere with my duty to keep you safe. We need to remain focused on what's best for you and the kingdom."

You clenched your fists in frustration at his words, mostly at the fact that it seemed like he, too, was willing to sacrifice your freedom and autonomy for the sake of a kingdom that you couldn't be bothered to care about.

"No," you said stubbornly, your heart stinging from his rejection. "Fuck the kingdom, fuck the king, fuck the nobles, and also fuck you for siding with them!"

"I am not siding with anyone," Levi sighed in exasperation.

He reached out his hand in an attempt to offer you a gesture of comfort to soothe your rapidly escalating emotions, but you immediately slapped his hand away in hurt and defiance.

"And how the fuck is selling me like an object to some filthy noble what's 'best' for me?"

Your emotions were running high, and it felt like you were drowning in your own thoughts. You buried your head in your hands, your fingers gripping at your hair as you tried to pull yourself together. This was exactly what happened before you ran. You weren't being listened to and you felt like you were trapped. Despite being well into your young adulthood, everyone around you still treated you like a child, trying to make the decisions for you.

You stumbled backwards, struggling to keep yourself oriented, and failing to put together that you were quickly backing up towards the edge of the building.

Levi's instincts immediately kicked in once he realized how close you were to tumbling off the building. Without hesitation, he lunged forward, grabbing you by the waist just as you reached the ledge.

"_____, stop!" he scolded, his voice laced with urgency as he held onto you tightly, doing his best to keep you from slipping off the edge. "You're going to fall!"

"Then let me fall!" you shouted, trying to push yourself out of his grasp, the tears building in your eyes from how emotionally overwhelmed you were.

Levi tightened his grip on you, knowing that letting you go would likely result in you falling to your demise.

"Please, listen to me," he whispered, his voice filled with desperation, unable to bear the thought of losing you in this way. "You have choices, and I'm here to help you make them. Please, just calm down and let me help you."

He immediately pulled you into him, his hand gently holding you against his chest, both to keep a firm grip on you, but also to attempt to quiet down your chaotic thoughts.

"Do you trust me?" he asked softly.

Upon hearing those words, you began sobbing into his chest as he held you close.

"I-I want to-" you choked out between sobs. "I want to trust you...but it just seems like you're intent on bringing me back and forcing me to comply-"

Levi pulled back so that he could see your face better, glancing down at you. His jaw clenched upon seeing the tears streaming down your cheeks—tears he himself caused with his unyielding duties.

Levi Ackerman wasn't an impulsive man. He was well-disciplined and was always able to place his personal preferences in second-place compared to his duties. Yet, seeing you vulnerable and in so much pain brought up something within him that even he struggled to suppress.

Without further hesitation, he leaned in and gently pressed his lips against yours. His hands traveled up to gently cup your cheeks as he poured all of his emotions into that one kiss.

You quickly returned the gesture, grabbing at him, and yearning for his touch that you had been craving for years. You couldn't get yourself to care about the consequences. You just knew that you wanted him.

After a moment, he finally pulled away, resting his forehead gently against yours.

"I'm sorry," he whispered quietly. "You know I hate seeing you in pain."

He didn't want to let you go, knowing that he was going to have to confront the reality of your situation the moment that he did. He had to make the impossible choice of watching you hate him from a distance as he followed his duties, or giving in to what you both desperately desired and needed. It was almost as if there was a string of fate that was insistent on tugging the two of you towards each other.

Neither of you truly believed in the concept of soulmates, but if it was real, then you were fairly certain that this is what it felt like.

"There's an inn I've been staying at nearby," you whispered before either of you could change your minds. "Come with me."

#: @shayewrites @littlerequiem @humanitys-strongest-brat @mostlilo @dustbuniesworld @levisrations @ebechnasheim @moonchild-angel @jayteacups @bipolargatto @samackermaan @deepzombieyouth @pickledpedro @levisfavoriteteashop @ackermanswifee

[jetskisonyourmoat]

Alex and Alt J (2018)

An old interview I’ve always loved and wanted to transcribe ☺️

Transcript below ☺️⬇️

Transcript:

Begins with host preamble

Richard: Hey Linda

Linda: Hey Richard

Richard: I've gotta ask you what did you think of this record the first time you heard it?

Linda: Hmm, it was surprising wasn't it? It was so different to AM that I remember hearing the first songs and going no, oh no, this is indulgent, oh no what has happened here. Then I kind of got more songs into it and I feel like I fell into this very cinematic, almost this vampire, hotel sounding world. That I then really liked.

Richard: I feel like it's very Los Angeles, and I kind of feel like he's looking at this like an outsider, being an Englishman, looking at this world. I find Los Angeles a very alienating place and I think, not to speak for Alex, but he's looking at it from an outside perspective as well. So he creates all these characters. Even the artwork reminds me a lot of the architecture of Los Angeles as well, so he's really kind of gone into a world of his own with this record and it really reflects in the music that he's made. It's so different to AM and it's really interesting to hear what Arctic Monkeys fans make of it.

Linda: Here's something that I'll say about it in terms of it following on from AM. I feel like there is this almost typical trajectory where a band will push that even further when they get to the next album where you imagine these stadium shining choruses. So, if the alternative to this album is that they would have made a stadium shiner album, I'm so glad they made this record. I'm so excited that they did something a little bit wacky.

Richard: It's very brave

Linda: Yeah (laughs)I don't know how people are gonna feel about it

Richard: Which usually record companies don't want. We don't want a brave record we want a hit record.

Linda: Yeah

Richard: But listen I'm really curious to hear this interview. You basically hung out with Alex Turner, you got to spend some time with him. He's not an easy person to interview. I've interviewed him twice and I've found him pretty awkward. How did you find him?

Linda: I think it was one of the hardest interviews I've ever done. Honestly, he was there we had a great amount of time together. We were there for about an hour sitting in the Capital Records Studios. So we're sitting where they record the Rat Pack albums and he's using the same microphone as Frank Sinatra and he's ready to go in the morning. And he I don't think has talked about these songs before or talked about the album before.

Richard: I reckon this is one of the first interviews he's done for this record, Tranquility Base Hotel and Casino. It's out now so lets have a bit of a dive into what this record is all about.

Start of Interview with Alex

Linda: Tranquility Base Hotel and Casino, what is it?

Alex: Well it's the record yeah

Linda: Where did that idea, and that model and therefore the album come from?

Alex: The model you mean the record sleeve? That model. I think the title come from, I liked the idea that the record would have the name of a place, because records and songs that I love, when you really fall in love with it it does seem like a place like you go and you can keep going back there and you sort of sometimes me move in there for a while I think.

Linda: Yeah

Alex: I started work on this in my studio in the basement at home and this zone became known as the lunar surface amongst friends. The reason for that, you know there's like the conspiracy theories about Stanley Kubrick faking the moon landing and I think there was this idea I was going in this room on me own and working with these machines on this music. I think there's just this idea of like what's going on in there and there's this idea of like faking a lunar landing. Sort of became synonymous with what we were doing in there. Tranquility base is the site of the first like, the moon landing and I just saw those words written down on these cups that I've got, glassware. And (laughs) and I wrote the line because it seemed to make send to name the record after this place.

Linda: All of these, kind of like you say, records, they are a place and they are a world that that artist has created

Alex: I think so, possibly more than anything else I've done, and that sort of working by me self might have something to do with why it is the way it is.

Linda: Can I talk a little bit about how you not only created that world in the musical sense but that you physically created it too?

Alex: Emma, who works with Ian and I, we were having a meeting when everyone started to hear the music and she's like, I don't feel like- it doesn't feel like we can just cob a picture of the band on the cover and lob it out with the music. And that like stayed with me, that was when we were in London like before christmas and I came back here and just started like becoming quite obssessed I think with the idea of making the artwork. I quickly got to this place where i thought , well if that's the name of the record, an architectural model seems like what should be on the cover. So then I started hinking about how you do that, cause I suppose you can get someone to do that and I don't know. Eventually I just fucking got a load of cardboard and like a knife and started hacking it up.

Linda: Did you know what you were making or did you kind of…

Alex: No it was like a-no not to begin with. I started off, I drew a, it was as simple as it's the sixth record so i drew a six sided shape and it was like- made a right mess from there.

Linda: How long did this take you?

Alex: Couple of months I was at it. It's funny we're having this serious conversation about this cardboard.

Linda: Yeah, i'm kind of picturing you holed up, almost obssessed, like being out at dinner but thinking about using a razorblade

Alex: It's much worse than that, its- yeah it was a strange time. Where it all came together, what do you call that the denouement was. There's this restuarant called house of pies and I was driving back with a car full of cardboard one day. And the house of pie sign revolves and I was like when I'm working on this stuff it's in the studio where I'm working on the record and the machine- the 8-track machine that i recorded some of the stuff on in the beginning, this revox reel to reel A77. I'm driving past house of pies and I'm thinking how can I make a revolving sign, and it's like you obviously turn the revox on its side and stick the sign in that. Cause I think- I remember when I was finished I was thinking we probably don't need to tell anybody that that was me- then cut to me now (Linda: It's so good though) spilling the beans

Linda: Well we can talk about music

Alex: I don't know, we can continue talking about cardboard. I suppose the thing with it- I suppose. I was looking at some of the stuff and I read something or saw something where somebody had said, there's really no course you can take in doing that. You know you just have to try and you learn how you're gonna do that by doing it. Which is like quite a few things I imagine like that.

Linda: Let's talk about the role that the piano plays on this album.

Alex: The piano was a gift from me manager Ian for me 30th birthday. Yeah so that became the centerpiece in the studio and I've pretty much played it every day since it showed up there.

Linda: Had you been drawn to playing piano a lot in the past?

Alex: When I was an 8 yeat old kid, me dad took me to have lessons and it may have lasted a year but I never really took to it. I never remember enjoying it that much be I had. I remember realising that I could hear the difference between the notes. I knew when I was doing it wrong is what I could remember from that. When I were a 15 year old, he brought us a guitar home and I got really stuck into that and didn't put it down. The piano thing I had like, I could play a couple of chords and give the impressiont that I could play it better than I actually could.

Linda: How did that feel, writing in terms of freedom as an artist, or a point of difference. How did it compare?

Alex: I don't know what I would have done without it, I had no ideas and through that suddenly I started to have ideas. I just knew everything I was about to do when I pick up a guitar. And then so you change that, so there's that side of it, I feel like I've heard people say plenty of times. It brought out this character. I like the idea of, it made me like thinking in a different way. I think the lyrics were different as a result of the chords my fingers had fallen on.

Linda: It ends up sounding like a diffeernt and kind of surprising and herefore wonderful album in the end. How did it feel when you brought it to James Ford or to the band and stuff?

Alex: Better than I expected to I think. Jamie came and we worked on stuff together for a couple of weeks. And it was during that time that i was encouraged that i was barking up the right tree. It did seem different to what we'd done before, but his enthusiasm I think for it, was like lets go this way then.

Linda: It feels like it would have been so fun after doing something like AM to do something that just kind of turns off and changes direection.

Alex: Which I think it does in some ways. But then sometime parts of it I hear a quite-

Linda: Theer are some parts that feel quite groove driven in the same way AM does.

Alex: Exactly, I think we've gone a bit deeper down in that direction (Musical break) I think like lyricaly there aren't to many similarities. But to a degree that's always been how we've felt going into these things. I honestly don't know like how we would have done something like that, the AM record I mean. I don't know how thinking about it, we would have done anything other than this.

Linda: When you were mentioning lyrics just then and saying that they're different to AM, are they autobiographical or are you kind of just thinking in a character when you're writing those songs.

Alex: I think it's both of those things and it sort of drifts in between them. Some lines in it are just totally, almost me having a word with me sen, more so i think than before really. I think it was a friend of mine that said to me, you've done the love songs, I'd love to hear you do something that's not that. Or the type of lyrics on AM and what that's all about. There's kind of no more ways I could say that anymore and I think that's what my friend was getting at and it did come across to me. I was like yeah I would like to do that, but I think any time I'd tried to go to some of these places in the past the poetry just wasn't there for me in the past and this time it I think I managed to find it.

Linda: Yeah maybe the piano tapped into it (Musical break) There was a point where I was thinking about this album and I don't know how conscious of this you were when you were doing it, but it feels interesting to listen to it now because we're consuming it in this world that almost feels like it's plummeting towards kind of technology and the future whereas sonically this record feels like it harkens back to something quite art deco, but a the same time it's talking about current things that are going on.

Alex: The battle between the future and the past.

Linda: Exactly, were you concious of that when you were doing it?

Alex: I think that's what- I suppose that's what I'm talking about when I say, I'd struggled to find poetry in that before and I didn't know how to write about that. I feel this way about our first album like the types of things we were writing sbout there a lot of other people were writing about at that time and have done before that. But there's something about the style that makes it work. Hopefully it's the same with this.

Linda: There's such a visual stance with this record because you know, are you going to be making a film that goes with it or?

Alex: There's no plans to make a film with it because it's supposed to be what it is. We're not coming out in space suit or anything or like pretending there's zero gravity.

Linda: You could probably do it.

Alex: Maybe I'll do that.

Linda: You could make it happen.

Alex: Yeah just (Linda: Band in space) Moonwalking subtle.

Linda: The Lunar, what did you call it?

Alex: Surface?

Linda: The lunar surface tour

Alex: Yeah that's it (Linda: This could be the one) Well Bowie had the 'Serious Moonlight Tour' didn't he?

Linda: He did.

Return to hosts

Richard: That is actually interesting Linda, I've been wondering how on earth they're going to represent this record on stage.

Linda: I know and how it would fit in with the back catalogue as well.

Richard: Yeah, I mean obviously the back catalogue is not going to be forgtten but they're gonna have to squeeze this knew world of the Artcic Monkeys in amongst the live performances of those big tracks off AM. I like bands being brave and I think this is a record that by years end all the UK critcs will be claiming how brilliant it is and it'll make a lot of top 10 lists. I think fans will be divided, I think anyway.

Linda: I think that's a good thing.

Richard: Thanks for the sharing the interview with us on the 2018 podcast.

Linda: Hey look I'm glad that I got to do it even though you know i was saying it wasn't the easist interview to do, it was certainly a real one.

[theriverbeyond]

THE ANTICAPITALIST MESSAGING IN HADESTOWN TOOK ME SO COMPLETELY BY SURPRISE IN SUCH A GOOD WAY AND I HAVEN'T SEEN ENOUGH PEOPLE TALKING ABOUT IT BECAUSE ITS SO GOOD AND IT WORKS WITH THEIR STORY SO WELL

YEAH EXACTLY Im like... is it all just so obvious everyone decided it's redundant to mention or??? HELLO???

And I was sitting in the audience as one does and Chant was actually the song that reframed the entire show for me -- up until then I was like "aw :') theyre falling in love and are doomed, I should google all these lyrics later" but that song just... I felt like I was being hit in the face w a fish, honestly!!

"In the coldest time of year/ Why is it so hot down here?/ Hotter than a crucible/ It ain't right and it ain't natural"

"In the darkest time of year/ Why is it so bright down here?/ Brighter than a carnival/ It ain't right and it ain't natural"

Persephone's lyrics here are so specific -> a "crucible" is an ancient tool that can be used to create art but also industrialized into mass production, a "carnival" something that is inherently about celebration and festivity and joy but it is also a thing that can be commercialized almost beyond recognition. Capitalism is ravenous and will never be satiafied or sated, it will steal & exploit every scrap of art and joy that it can, then corrupt it all into hollow immitations that it then sells back to you on websites like SHEIN and Disney+.

"It ain't right and it ain't natural" hits so hard in this song because nothing is as natural, or as "right", as death -- so obviously Persephone is NOT talking about the literal underworld to the literal god of the dead. She's talking about how we need to stay warm and safe and dry in the winter, but we don't need fresh summer fruits imported from thousands of miles away. We need to stay cool and safe and hydrated in the summer, but we don't need to steal water from another state to keep the golf courses green. The winter is natural, the cold is natural, seeking warmth and light is natural. What is unnatural is this overconsumption, this never ending, never satisfied hunger.

And then of course you have Hades' parts,

Here, I fashioned things of steel/ Oil drums and automobiles/ Then I kept that furnace fed/ With the fossils of the dead

And wasn't it electrifying/ When I made the neon shine!/ Silver screen, cathode ray/ Brighter than the light of day

And obviously "fossils of the dead" is a reference to Hades being the literal god of the dead, in the ground, in the underworld, and it is also a reference to the modern dependence on oil and fossil fuels, but TO ME it is also about how capitalism relies on the exploitation of workers. In this show, the "fossils of the dead" are literally Hades' subjects. They're the workers of his factory town, and he both exploits them and is fully dependent on them, just like how the furnance of industry/capitalism relies on YOUR body, YOUR labor, it eats you when you're alive and it often continues to eat you when you're dead.

And then like "wasn't it electrifying" -> it's EXCITING what technology and industry does, but the problem is the overconsumption and the overproduction ("Brighter than the light of day") beyond what anyone actually needs or even wants. It ain't right and it ain't natural!!!

Every year, it's getting worse/ Hadestown, hell on Earth!

And the wind is so strong/ That's why times are so hard/ It's because of the gods/ The gods have forgotten the song of their love

Lover, what have you become/ Coal cars and oil drums/ Warehouse walls and factory floors/ I don't know you anymore

And it all keeps building in this song, re-emphasizing that Hades is not who he once was, that he has changed. Which again is not only commentary about consumption vs overconsumption, and how so many things started as wonderful ideas that could save people and help people and help make the world better were corrupted and turned into profit machines, killing machines, etc. "The gods have forgotten the song of their love" UGH

I also think the Themes are magnified because this is presented extremely directly alongside Euridyce's growing desperation, especially with the context that Euridyce DOES, in fact, "sell out" to Hades' promises.

There is no food left to find/ It's hard enough to feed yourself/ Let alone somebody else

Desperation forces her hand, she turns to Hades because he offers salvation, and she ends up just another nameless worker turning the gears of his machine. And I feel this is so similar to how when rich people are like "Just do XYZ", or telling people to bootstrap, or selling quick fixes to desperate people, when the reality is they got where they did due to a combination of luck, pre-existing social/monetary capital, etc, and buying into their promises of wealth will only make them richer and you more dependent and vulnerable.

[flowerandblood]

The Price of Dignity

[ dark academia • Aemond x rich • female ]

[ warnings: angst, violence, class inequalities ]

[ description: Aemond worked his whole life to get into the best university in the country. The class inequality he sees there strikes him, and the target of his hatred is a female classmate from his year, a rich girl from a wealthy family. However, it turns out that what was obvious to him is not so simple and he has to face the consequences of his own decisions. A lot of angst, bitchy, violent, mean Aemond. ]

* English is not my first language. Please, do not repost. Enjoy! *

Next chapters: Masterlist

_____

He very quickly came to terms with the fact that life is not fair. He understood this when he watched his mother, worried, choosing between buying him a new sweatshirt and buying him a new textbook for school, between paying the heating bills and a new bed so they wouldn't all have to fit into one with an old, yellow mattress.

They didn't starve, they didn't walk around dirty, their mother made sure they looked like decent people, however, they were always lacking things, always had too little money for something.

Although his mother worked two jobs at school, she didn't earn as much as his friend's mother, who bought her T-shirts with Disney cartoon characters, had a whole pencil case of glitter pens and expensive chocolate croissants for her second breakfast.

He envied her and one day, when she wasn't looking, he stole her pensieve and threw it in the rubbish. She cried all day because of this, the pencil case was eventually found, however, she didn't want it anymore because it stank.

The next day she came to school with a new pencil case, even prettier.

From then on he decided that whatever he did would not change anything, so he chose not to worry about it and to stay away from such people. He was repulsed by their feeling that they could look down on him, that they were proud to have new, fashionable things, as if there was any merit in it.

They just got it and he didn't.

Something that could not be bought was intelligence, and he did not lack it.

Therefore, he decided to concentrate on his studies, spending whole days in the school library, borrowing thick, worn-out books to take home, having no money to buy new ones in the bookshop. He set himself the goal of getting into a degree in classical literature at the best, most prestigious university in the country by virtue of his academic results, to win a scholarship.

His mother was horrified by the idea, having no clue how she would help him pay for his stay in the capital, where everything was several times more expensive than in their city.

Not wanting to burden her more, to her despair, after high school classes he would go to work for a friend who ran a car repair shop, working as his helper, every paycheck saved up for his plan.

He felt like he was obsessed with it and did not accept the possibility that he might not succeed.

When applying for a scholarship, in addition to a written essay of at least a hundred pages about his favourite author, he had to appear in person for an interview.

Specially for this occasion, he bought himself an expensive shirt, smart trousers and a suit jacket for the first time and, dressed like this, went there with a beating heart.

The professors sitting in front of him seemed tired and weary of their work, sipping tea from beautiful, surely very expensive, porcelain cups. He looked at them trying to hide the disgust on his face, listening to their questions, which turned out to be trivially easy.

He saw how he was arousing their interest more and more with every minute with his attitude, they started asking him about his life, where he came from.

He sold them the heart-wrenching story of his childhood, the tale of his accident involving his nephew, through which he lost his eye, and then his slow road to the top, presenting himself as a young boy with dreams who had worked so hard for his success.

To his surprise it worked, and after a week he received a letter confirming that he had been awarded a scholarship and a place on his dream faculty.

He cried like a baby reading it several times, glad that no one was home at the time, feeling that he had finally managed to win something for himself in his life.

His mother burst with pride when she found out, while at the same time fearing how he would cope in this group, full of aristocrats and children of rich parents who could afford to simply buy them a place there.

He figured he would destroy them all, show them for who they really were.

He felt within himself some great need for revenge and atonement, although he did not know quite how he was supposed to express it.

He spotted his perfect target at the first meeting of his year with the professor who was to be their mentor during their stay at the University.

Despite the fact that they were all sitting in the same elegant uniforms with the intricate gold crest of their university, he saw that she was holding the latest model of phone in her hands, a beautiful gold ring with a sapphire on her middle finger and an old, expensive watch, surely inherited from some very wealthy and famous great-grandfather.

It came to his ears very quickly that her surname, Howard, was due to her grandfather on her father's side, the baron who had been given that title, which her family had boasted of ever since, living in their mansion in a village near the capital.

He looked at her and thought only of the fact that she was a fucking nepotistic, spoilt brat who never had to earn anything, who was taking the place of someone who really deserved it.

He very quickly caught a good rapport with a boy similar to himself, also from a small town from a working-class family, Criston. Like him, he owed his place to his education and scholarship, although he was not as harsh as he was in his assessment of their new friend.

"Oh, come on. Just concentrate on being content that you're here." He said one evening as they prepared for their first classes together. They were sitting in large, comfortable armchairs by the fireplace in the university's huge library filled with old, oak bookcases reaching the ceiling, filled to the brim with thick, dusty tomes.

He instantly fell in love with the place and only dreamed of spending whole evenings there, imagining how other students, writers and poets sat in his place. He hummed at his words, turning the page of the book he had just read, a history of ancient Greek literature.

"I'm concentrating on this, but when I look at her, I just feel sick. She's only here so her daddy baron can show off his daughter at the University. I have no respect for her and don't think she deserves any. The fact that she is here is a joke and one big misunderstanding." He muttered lowly, Criston sighed heavily, shaking his head, not having the strength to argue with him.

They both flinched when they heard someone's quiet footsteps, the figure of Howard appeared from among the bookcases with several books clutched to her chest and headed immediately for her entrance, her face pale, her lips clenched.

He swallowed loudly, feeling the cold sweat on his back at the thought that she had heard it all, and although he thought it was good for her that he had told the truth out loud, a sense of shame overcame him anyway.

Criston threw him a confused, horrified look and he lowered his gaze and grunted, letting out a loud breath, returning to his reading, recognising that the words of someone like him were meaningless to her anyway.

The next day was their first class with Professor Morris, in which they were to study Greek literature of the Classical, Hellenistic and Empire eras. Their professor, a short, smiling old man with big glasses, spoke with enthusiasm and energy surprisingly high for his age, introducing them to the subject and telling them what they would be working on first.

He said they would start with something simple, a collection of myths that, although passed down through generations and written down very late in history, were a source of inspiration that still stirred the minds of young artists and writers today.

He began with a question about who the Greek gods were in Greek mythology, Howard's hand shot up before he could think of anything.

"As far as the Olympian gods are concerned, they were imagined as humans, or rather the inhabitants of Hellada with the difference that they were immortal by drinking ambrosia and had various powers." She said quickly, their professor nodding at her words.

"That is true, Miss Howard. Why were they imagined as human beings and not, like the Christian God, as a superior, infallible entity?"

Howard's hand shot up again and he pressed his lips together, looking at her impatiently.

Stupid bitch.

"Because they were supposed to be the answer to what was happening around the living population, they were not the determinant of moral values, like the Christian God, but more like guardians whose care had to be constantly sought.

They loved and hated like ordinary people, they were eager for revenge, murder and rape, so they did not represent a pattern of behaviour, but rather depicted the unpredictability of nature and events in human life." She said without stammering, and he let out a loud breath, impatient.

She was doing this on purpose.

She wanted to prove him wrong.

He spent whole evenings reading and preparing for class and in the days that followed, he began to overtake her, watching with satisfaction as she turned to him over her shoulder with furrowed brows, impatient when it was him that their professor allowed to speak and not her.

They were at war.

He saw that she had her two friends with whom she went everywhere, naive girls from good homes who clung to her to wallow in her luxuries.

He felt like laughing at this sight.

He had the feeling that it was getting worse by the week, they were throwing hateful glances at each other in the corridors and shunning each other in the common rooms and the library, not wanting to bump into each other by accident.

He knew she was doing this to prove him wrong, to make herself feel the best again rather than because she was interested in literature.

After the first exams they both had very similar scores, but he felt a sense of pride when he saw on the posted list that he had scored one point more than her, a grimace of satisfaction showed on his face as he glanced in her direction indulgently.

Even though she had second place right after him she turned and walked towards the women's dormitory, clearly frustrated, making him feel better for the day.

And that's when he appeared.

Ronald Collins, a blushing man with slight curves, looking as if he was living in some sort of dreamy state had been introduced to them in class with their tutor and it appeared that he would be joining them mid-year.

No one understood how he managed to achieve this, he didn't look like a wealthy man, he smiled at everyone as if he were a priest at a sermon, with tenderness and care, as if he lived in a completely different reality. He and Criston would sometimes see him sitting on the cloisters with a notebook in his hand, gesticulating and talking to himself as if he were some inspired 19th century poet.

"What the fuck is his problem?" He muttered to Cole, recognising that this man was out of his mind.

In their first class together, however, he proved to them that he was something far more dangerous.

"Shakespeare. Romeo and Juliet. Trash and kitsch, or sincere, sudden, fiery true love? There are different thoughts about this world-famous work today. What is your opinion?"

He and Howard automatically raised their hand, but Collins preceded them. The professor allowed him to speak first and, to everyone's surprise, he stood up, looking around the room.

"Pontius Pilate asked Christ - what is truth? But I ask you - what is love?! Is there only one kind of love? When we truly love, can we be so desperate as to reach for the finality, for death itself?" He asked, stretching his hand out in front of him, sweeping it in a semi-circle as if he was showing something, a few people couldn't stand it and laughed under their breath, Howard turned to him over her shoulder, looking at him with big eyes in disbelief, and he looked at her feeling that he looked exactly like her.

What the fuck was that supposed to be?

He bullshitted his way through the next five minutes until their professor decided he'd had enough.

However, what horrified him the most was the results of his first exam, which he saw on a list posted for all students outside the room.

100/100 points Mr Collins 94/100 points Mr Targaryen 94/100 points Miss Howard

What?

"What?!" He heard a familiar voice beside him, Howard stepped closer to the glass as if she couldn't believe her eyes.

She threw him a quick, helpless look as if she wanted him to tell her what had just happened here, but he himself had no idea how that was possible.

How could this fucking moron get such a good score?

"Ah, my sweet rivals!" They heard a voice behind them and turned around, Collins was looking contentedly at his score from over their shoulders, blushing, smiling and dreamy as usual, he could see from so close up that despite his young age he was slowly starting to go bald.

"Miss Howard and Mr Targaryen, the age-old battle between the aristocracy and the working class. So dramatic, solemn, full of contradictions. Love - hate - or perhaps cold calculation? Like Athena and Arachne, like Aphrodite and Persephone, like Achilles and Hector!" He said grabbing Howard's arm and she shook her head, completely surprised, not believing that he dared to say such things out loud.

"− Achilles and Hector didn't −" She began, but he interrupted her, looking up, as if suddenly dazzled.

"− no − Romeo and Juliet − separated lovers − they don't even know yet that tragedy awaits them, that they will not be given the chance to be reunited − but nevertheless this feeling, this will to fight will always prevail." He said worriedly and shook her, as if he wanted to make her realise how serious his prophetic words were, and then he left, wishing them a good day.

They stood horrified, he saw her look at her arms, as if she might have been contaminated by him just a moment ago.

"− oh God −" She muttered, lowering her hands without strength. "− he's an idiot −"

Their war was put on hold as they were forced to turn their gazes to a new enemy, more dangerous and more unpredictable, turning their joint lectures into a nightmare, for some reason having perfect scores on all their exams.

How was it possible that he was always a few points short and he passed everything with the highest score?

He decided to hide in the library as usual, tired and frustrated, and clenched his eyes when he saw that in his armchair, hidden between a few bookcases so that he couldn't be seen from a distance, sat Howard, reading a book even though it was his favourite place and she knew it perfectly well.

"Get the fuck out." He said to her straight out, towering over her with an angry look. She furrowed her brow and pressed her lips together.

"No. That moron is still after me, and he won't find me here. I was here first." She said angrily and turned the page with a quick, theatrical gesture.

He leaned over her resting his hands on either side of her body on the armrests of her armchair, looking at her face from so close that the tips of their noses were almost touching.

"Get. The fuck. Out." He hissed low.

"Fuck. No." She hissed parroting his tone, he grabbed her hard by her arm, trying to pull her out of there, but she immediately lifted her leg and kicked him in the stomach.

He bent down and growled, grabbing her ankle.

"You little spoiled bitch." He snorted, pulling her so that she just fell off the armchair, ignoring the fact that it made her skirt roll up and he could almost see her panties. "You think if your daddy pays for your studies, you're allowed everything?"

In response, he was hit on the head with the book she had just been reading, grabbed his forehead and shouted in pain, closing his eyes.

"Fuck off! I'm studying here as hard as you are!" She snarled furiously, wanting to throw the other book at him, but he grabbed her arms and blocked her movements. They were both panting loudly fighting each other, she tried to hit him with her knee, but he pinned her down with his body.

"Yeah? Oh what a poor girl. She studies as hard as I do. She never had to earn anything, she didn't have to work for long fucking hours after school, studying late to earn a living here, she didn't have to write a 100-page essay to get here, beg the university authorities to give her a scholarship." He hissed out looking at her with hatred, not letting her get away, feeling that he was just pouring out everything he had felt over the years, all the loathing he had for her and people like her.

She stopped fighting him and pressed her lips together, her eyebrows at the same time furrowed in a grimace of pain and sadness, her lower lip began to tremble at his words, her eyes turned red and glazed over from tears.

"Oh, are you going to cry? Are you going to fucking cry now? The poor rich little girl is going to cry because she heard a few words of truth?" He asked in a mocking, sweet voice as if he was speaking to a small child who still doesn't understand much and needs to be explained slowly.

"Fuck off." She exhaled with difficulty, already with less certainty, trying to push him away but to no avail, his hands clenched tighter on her shoulders, her body pressed against the armchair so that she was unable to make any movement, her cheeks red with exertion.

"You're not so snarky anymore? Well, please tell me, how did you earn your place here? Let me guess, you told your daddy - daddy, I would like to study here - will you pay my tuition fees? Hm? Is that how it was? I know, you worked so terribly hard for it." He sneered, arching his eyebrows in a gesture as if he really felt sorry for her, and she burst out crying, looking up at him from below, breathing hard.

"− I wanted to study here because I'm interested in literature, and my dad helped me − what the fuck is your problem? −" She mumbled out almost choking, and he clenched his jaw, his nostrils moving restlessly in rage.

"− my problem is that you've taken the place of someone who's worked all their life for it − some poor boy or girl who didn't have your father's money − the university authorities prefer your money to their knowledge −"

"− then why don't you go and yell at the rector for it? − won't you go to the dean and name some person to take my place, tell them that they are only after my money? − I'll tell you why − thanks to my father's money you can be here for free − thanks to my father's money you'll be able to do your PhD and do your research −" She laughed desperately through her tears, looking at him in disbelief, seeing him turn pale, his lower lip trembling in rage.

"− you didn't know? − you thought our country was paying for your place here, your uniform, your room? − no − but you're right about one thing − you've earned this place harder than I have −" She said emotionlessly, looking at him with a blank stare, and he felt unable to get a word out, his throat tightened, he felt like he was about to vomit, humiliation and rage spreading through his body.

"− you don't know anything about me − you've been insulting me ever since you got here, even though I'm the one you feel sorry for, you're the one carrying yourself like a king, looking down on everyone − and I thought that maybe things would get better, that maybe we'd even become friends − you're a mere brutal boor who thinks he can take it out on whoever he wants −" She hissed, pushing him away from her, he stepped back, turning his head away, not looking at her as she picked up her book from the floor and moved ahead, disappearing around the corner.

He slid his back down the bookcase and sat on the floor, burying his face in his hands, feeling that he was trembling all over.

You're a mere brutal boor who thinks he can take it out on whoever he wants.

_____

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[sombredancer]

Recent visually beautiful and generally watchable Russian fantasy movies

(because I start forgetting they exist at all) Ironically, all of them are adaptations of books/comics.

I Am Dragon / Он — дракон (2015) This movie is a very free adaptation of the novel "The Rite" / "Ритуал" by Maryna and Serhiy Dyachenko (Марина и Сергей Дяченко). It's a reinterpreting of an ancient tale about a maiden, a hero and a dragon. I don`t like the novel because it's very postmodern, wracks the typical fairytale plot and hurts my escapist feelings by ugly reality, but the movie is pretty fairytale-ish and nice. Firstly, it is visually beautiful and represent Slavic pseudo-medieval lore the way it should have always been in Slavic fantasy.

Secondly, as a love story between a monster and a maiden, it has got A PLENTY of tropes I'm usually looking for in Chinese dramas, so I understand very well why it was pretty popular in Asia.

Thirdly, when I said it's visually beautiful I wasn't joking. The main hero is played not by an actor, but by a male model, who is shirtless all the time (and sometimes pantless) and has a very fit and good-looking body. It's something unbelievable that someone in Russia made a movie to please women's eyes! Really, it's insane!

The folk-rock band Мельница wrote an insanely beautiful song "Обряд" (The Rite) for this movie (more matched to the book plot, though), but it was never used as OST, which is a shame. The song is about a black sheep girl, who is denied by society and asks a dragon to come for her and to take her away, because the dragon is denied by this world just like her. You can listen to it here. The band also has a song "Змей" (The Wyrm) (based on Lev Gumilev's poem), which is more accurate to the plot of the movie: the wyrm kidnaps maidens to make them its wives, but they are all dying during the flight; at the end of the song a hero-knight is ready to shoot it in order to stop it. Listen to it here.

It ends with HE, which is better than the book's obscure ending, so it is pleasure for me to rewatch it till these days.

Major Grom: Plague Doctor / Майор Гром: Чумной Доктор (2021)

It is an adaptation of Russian comic series "Major Grom" by Bubble comics. I am traditionally not very happy with the source material, but it is very good reworked to be the screen play of this movie.

It's very beautifully made in terms of director's, cameraman's and screenwriter's work, which is a rare thing for Russian movies. Also, the actors are young and handsome, especially the villain, which is a rare thing not only for Russian movies, but for the current Western movies, too. It has got a lot of allusions to Russian reality and a lot of beautiful views of Saint Petersburg, the second capital of Russia and one of the most beautiful Russian cities. And it has got some unusual visual solutions that turn it into a comic it should be.

The plot revolves around a mysterious serial killer (kinda bad Batman), a black sheep police officer and Russian Mark Zuckerberg (kind of). Mark Zuckerberg is the best guy of this movie and I like him a lot! Серёёёёжа! 🧡🧡🧡

This movie wasn't popular in Russia because of political situation in the country by the moment of its release (the both sides found out in there something insulting for them and banned it), but even if it has something like that, I honestly didn't pay attention to it. It's just a nice blockbuster with a tragic and handsome villain. The villain also has got his own BL-drama (in the comics they are really lovers, it`s as obvious as it could be shown in a Russian comic).

By the way, the villain is hot, insane, ruthless, sensitive and suffering. How does he contain all of this character treats in one personality? you may ask. He doesn`t. He has dissociative identity disorder, I would answer.

I don`t know if it works by now, but some time ago you could watch this lovely movie on Netflix.

The Master and Margarita / Мастер и Маргарита (2024) This is a loose adaptation of Russian classical novel "The Master and Margarita" by Mikhail Bulgakov. I genuinely hate this book, but the adaptation reinterprets it, divides it into very interesting layers and makes it understandable and beautiful.

It`s layered, so it will probably be hard to understand what layer are we currently on if you are not familiar with the original story. The first layer is an ugly Soviet reality, the second layer is a plot of the novel that the main hero is writing, a story within a story. The third layer is the insane intertwining of the first two layers. On the reality layer the Master loses his job and freedom because of friend's denunciation and becomes star-crossed lovers with a married woman. On the novel level he meets devil, who visits Moscow by chance, and the devil gives him and his woman opportunity to live their lives being free from everything that usually tortures people IRL. Somewhere among those layers is a little plot about Jesus and Pontius Pilate.

The movie is visually beautiful. Although it feels pretty anti-Soviet, Soviet visuals of the movie are gorgeous. There were used the Stalin-times concepts of Moscow of the Future, the CGI buildings in frame came from the real architecture projects of those times. The Stalin Empire architecture style and views are typical for Moscow (but as I know, ironically, this all was shot in Saint Petersburg). It seems to me that this movie is heavily stuffed with visual allusions to the Western works: devil's escort looks like bunch of Pennywises, Margarita is Enchantress from Suicide Squad I, the scene of blood dripping is from Blade I etc. Usually, when I see it in Russian movies, it feels like plagiarism because I can recognize the reference but there is nothing except for these references . But here we have got the plot, so the allusions work as allusions and don`t irritate me.

The movie is dark, disturbing, uncomfortable. It really makes you feel as if you watch devil and his escort marching around you; they ravage, kill and destroy everything and you can only breathlessly, helplessly and in fear watch them. The German actor playing devil is insanely good. He stole the movie and I understand why it should have been named Woland (the devil's name) instead of the current movie's name. You may want to watch it, because it's very unusual in terms of plot and visuals experience, especially when you are not familiar with the book.

[the-chessboard-is-personal]

people have hyped this up so much I'm scared (ii s2 post-s3 liveblog)

(/silly)

ahem. hi. post-watch Knight here, with a big tw: there is a suicide mention and intense death wishing at the end of this post. you can guess who it's directed towards but if you've already seen the episodes I don't think you'll get it wrong.

since there's only 3 episodes this one is going to work slightly differently, I'll have Big Text separating each of them and timestamp each different part of the liveblog. there will also be screenshots.

15:

(intro) wait Taco's trying to steal the win without even being a contestant? (4:48) "Don't Mention That Again" I've said it before it just feels like he speaks in capitalized words sometimes

(5:08) song?? THE SONG FUCKING SLAPS???

(8:02) hold on a moment I need to do someth[finds the song in isolation and adds it to the playlist Good Music]

(10:19) taco!! come on, bringing up beef at the show!

(12:48) "yes :)" oh what a bitch /affectionate

(15:49) tbh I agree with Knife here, if everyone respawns anyway, why is murder so bad? (<- building a death game in Minecraft)

(18:01) DAMNN holy shit, to think this isn't even canonically a scripted game, for Taco to say that?! aough

(19:45) HUH?? TACO CRACKED??? oh. OH she- she fucking died from stress- literally. oh shit. I- tbh I...can relate. I did that once. long story and I can't explain it here but.... holy shit.

(22:46) he's on a platform! MePad teleported him onto a platform!

(27:44) MePhone giving the "next time is the finale" speech rneanwhile there's two episode lef- oh shit

- after episode -

well that was a fucking cliffhanger. OH. MY. what!! WHAT!! COBS?? oh yeah also I don't hate Taco anymore. and the outro music slaps sdgkjhf

oh fuck I'm scared, onto the next episode!

16:

(1:00) HOKAY WELP RIGHT INTO ACTION. that was the same MePhone 3 from 4's memories wasn't it? were those other ones MePhone 2s??

(1:39) hough the parallels, I love this episode so far

(2:38) [his literal worst enemy is repeatedly trying to contact him directly] MePhone 4: [treats it like a minor annoyance]

oh also YIPPEE YINYANG IS THERE!!

(4:17) "are you offering?" lmao I wouldn't have even asked-

uhh

..? why is s3 so bad for Suitcase to hear about..?

(5:30) WHy is he HERE??

(7:28) what HEY IS PICKLE GONE FROM THE INTRO

(15:22) OH IT'S THE GUY. OH IT'S THE GUY o h OJ!! oagh but like. imagine that with humans. your friend starts panicking at something you can't hear or see, screams and then sUDDENLY THEIR FUCKING FACE IS GONE. that would be a neat analog horror actually

(18:32) he's just like me. he's just like me for real,, (<- also has trigger words)

(21:30) OH FUCK HE GOT NICKEL TOO

(23:42) wait- first Pickle then OJ, Nickel- no but OJ never got eliminated in s1. hm.

(25:30) wait- doesn't quite know what a frown looks like? d- does that rnean- wait wait nonono that was Cherry that yeeted Marshmallow-

(27:17) wait WAIT THIS HAPPENED WITH CABBY TOO DO NONE OF THEM HAVE PARENTS?? 27:27 no. nonon NO DON'T SAY IT DON'T YOU DARE DON';T YOU FCUKING DARE TELL ME [unpauses] AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA AAAAAAAAAKDSGJFK AGDFJKHAT'S WHY FAN GHLITCHEDD ADJKGF JAHLOUIAHF OSJHLKF HLA

- after episode -

OH MY HOUSEMATE WAS RIGH T I'M GONNA BR EA K OHH WHAT THE HELLfuck

hokay. okay. okayokayokaoyuayojoaykokoykaoykaokaoauuauhghhh

I am sane. I am normal. that's how he knows things. I need a break- okay so after like an hour, onto the next ep! wait is this the finale-

17:

(1:39) WHA- oh I misheard Knife as Knight.

(2:10) NO NOT TEST TUBE! (3:50) oh they're all going to-

(5:14) NO DON'T YOU DARE

,..,,.,why them,.., b.. but,theyre my favorites,,.

(11:34) wait they need to get that wire out of MePhone. that would stop MePhone X, right? but he doesn't know that..shit

(13:08) yeaAHHWHAT- oh. oh what

(15:14) let me guess Paintbrush got X'd while Fan was rambling. oh nvm. OH THE OTHER EGG IS PART OF MEPHONE 4?? oh that almost made me cry too- welp there goes lightbulb

(17:47) HUH??????????????? TOILET?????? wh a t .the fuck

(21:17) "cause that was pretty reductive!" oh they addressed it!

(22:48) o h. wh- what the HELL IS COBS'S PROBLEM?? LIKE WHAT IS WRONG WITH HIM DOES HE NOT THINK MEPHONE4 IS ACTUALLY SENTIENT OR SOMETHING? DOES HE LIKE TORTURING HIM? EVERYONE'S FUCKING DEAD

(25:40) ohh no.. Bow probably can't be X'd anyway, does she really have to do. that. to someone .....sighhh. if Apple's okay with that happening (somehow) I guess it's not as scary. I won't understand the opinion but I don't really need to tbh.

(sorry no more timestamps I watched the whole rest of it speechless)

- after episode -

I- wh-

h-

but- he-

h-

h-

he- but he just- there was no- winner- Cobs- what about MePhone 3GS?? what abou-

h. hold on

hold on I need to. make an editr ealquick. just

relworld cursor editor almost crashed trying to save this

[lovinggreeniehours]

day one.

↳ takahara × lucifer (around s5 and post canon area)

↳ 1.4k words

↳ several months before the actual wedding takes place, takahara and lucifer figure out how exactly they're going to make that happen. this is just the first two days of the preparation, and it's just. Fluff. so much plotless fluff with arifer-typical undertones of violence (they're flirting) oh my god they're actually getting married holy shit guys ft mentions of kazuo ishikawa and her son zaiden ( thank you @sealovinq ) <33

↳ LOWKEY IMPORTANT NOTE: there are a few text messages littered around the end half of the fic. to help differentiate texts: lucifer always texts with Capitalization and punctuation. takahara,,,, well. does not! :T he texts like me. just wanted to clarify in case it gets confusing to look at

↳ one / two / three

"Just relax. I'll handle it."

Arion crossed his arms, glancing away.

"Now you're doubting me. You wound me, lover. Truly." Lucifer placed a hand on his chest in mock offense.

Arion snorted and rolled his eyes. He flicked the hand on Lucifer's chest as he walked past.

Venue decorations had begun being set up, which was a.. process, one could say. Arion leaned back against a table, running his hand over the dark blue tablecloth. Setting up with magic was quick and efficient. Unfortunately, the decision-making involved of such.. mundanity, like themes and color palettes, were not. Not to the likes of these two anyway. And especially not when the entire wedding would be under the scrutiny of the House of Lords.

They would've been perfectly content with the way they were before— married by their word alone— if not for the lack of official acknowledgement. Unfortunately, they found that they couldn't intimidate everyone into agreement.

Arion fiddled with the thorny black centerpiece of the table. Flowers that hadn't grown yet. He wasn't sure of what kind they were.

He sighed, half of his face sinking behind his scarf.

"I just don't want you to work on it alone. It's not just.. your.. wedding."

"I can't exactly get married to myself now, can I?" Lucifer said, lightly poking Arion's cheek.

"Ha. Ha. Very funny. You know what I mean."

"It's just that.. You proposed, so—"

Arion groaned, covering his face with his hands at the reminder.

"I told you not to make me remember that.."

"Hmph. I thought you were being rather sweet."

"Because you're a weirdo. I was barely even awake."

"So are you taking it back?"

Arion's hands partially uncovered his face to reveal an exhausted glare, as if he'd already been faced with this question a number of times before.

"No."

Lucifer grinned triumphantly. "Just checking."

Before Arion could scold him any further, he offered his arm, nodding towards the door.

"Let's call it a day for now. I doubt we'll be getting any further with the decorations today. And we have ample time to leave it be for now."

"Right, right." Arion sighed, looping his arm with Lucifer's. As they began on their way out of the ballroom, he pondered, "Should we call in Asmodeus?"

"If you're keen on dealing with a second round of his bridal rampage."

"Kazuo then? She's good at this."

"A calmer alternative for sure." He nodded. "Perhaps."

"I'll ask her to come with us tomorrow then. Are you sure the angels won't drown themselves with the cake?"

"Simeon won't take no for an answer. I couldn't dissuade him if I tried. He told me to refer to it as his wedding gift for us."

"That's sweet of them."

"That's one way to put it." Lucifer muttered. "Anyway, you're switching topics. I was being serious. Just let me take care of things. I never knew someone could get so stressed from choosing tables."

"Stop making fun of me."

"I am not." He put his free hand over Arion's, making him turn to meet his eyes. "You're always going out of your way and giving me things, doing things for me. You're always trying to spoil me."

"Well—"

Lucifer unwinded their arms, squishing Arion's face between his palms to quiet him.

"Let me handle this."

"It's my wedding too.."

"Let me handle this."

"It's not like you're not doing things for me too!"

"True. However," Arion felt one of Lucifer's fingers tap up and down against his face, the subtle indent of the ring under his glove more apparent. Arion's face grew warm. "Do you mind reminding me who went out of his way to make this?"

Arion grumbled.

"Just relax and handle your other affairs." Lucifer said, releasing his face with a soft sigh. "I will ask you for assistance if I need it."

He crossed his arms. "You promise?"

Lucifer nodded. He prodded his hand under Arion's elbow until their arms were linked once more. "I promise. You have my permission to murder me in cold blood if I do otherwise."

"I'll take you up on that."

.

True to his word, the next day, Lucifer did go back to the venue to reorganize things. Arion sent Kazuo after him, likely with instructions to inform him on how Lucifer was handling things. It was amusing how much Arion tried to look after him, of all people— quite literally one of the most powerful beings in the universe. The only thing more laughable was how much Lucifer found himself enjoying it. He supposed it couldn't be helped then if Arion wanted to spy on him. The fact that he stepped back at all was a miracle in itself. And, as a bonus, Lucifer happened to find his little sister-in-law to be delightful company. At least.

Eventually, as their discussions unfolded and their tea got cold, Kazuo had to be called back to the House of Lamentation to help with Zaiden. So he let her go ahead without him, pondering on the decorations for himself.

As he stepped back, narrowed his eyes, trying to take everything in as a whole, he grimaced. It was.. quite bad. He suddenly found himself thankful that there were a few more months to work on this (what Arion would ever so affectionately refer to as a) hot mess. Although blue was designated pride's color, the brightness of that and the splashes of white reminded him too much of a certain.. acquaintance of theirs. That observation alone made him want to burn the entire building down.

As Lucifer was beginning to consider fighting the House of Lords to let them allow the wedding to be red, he sensed the eyes of someone new entering the room.

"Barbatos." He greeted.

The royal steward nodded in return, pristine smile plastered on his face as usual. He carried a tray of piping hot tea with him. "Lucifer."

"What brings you here?" He paused. "Lord Diavolo isn't here, is he?"

"No," A threadbare lilt of amusement bled into Barbatos's tone as he set down the tea. "The young master is doing his own share of work." He gave a brief sideways glance to the altar area. Anyone who didn't know him well enough wouldn't notice the laugh he stifled.

"I suggest you take this down before he sees. Or before anyone else sees, for that matter. If I didn't know any better, I'd assume you were to be wed to Solomon."

"Do not." Lucifer hissed. "Do not. I'm already tempted to walk right into Purgatory Hall just to put his head on a pike."

Barbatos merely chuckled. He handed Lucifer a cup of tea and a small plate of scones.

"Arion asked me to deliver these to you."

Lucifer blinked in surprise.

"Oh. Thank you, Barbatos."

"It was no problem." He folded his hands behind his back. "Arion also asked me if you were capable of telling the time, or if you were simply 'being stupid', as he put it."

"Excuse me?"

"The question was rhetorical, of course."

Lucifer huffed. "Ah. I see."

"He also lamented about how slow you are at responding to him on your D.D.D. He sounded quite miffed, really—"

"Thank you, Barbatos, for the tea. I suppose you'll be taking your leave now."

Barbatos sighed lightly. "It would seem so. Do head on home as soon as you are able. The young master was also rather concerned this morning about you pushing yourself so early into the planning stage."

Lucifer didn't respond. Likewise, Barbatos didn't wait for one. As soon as he was gone, Lucifer rushed to open his D.D.D.

11:28pm. He cursed under his breath.

"Have I really been here that long..?"

06:51pm

Mine. ♡: ill be home late i think. target went into a cursed maze. annoying

Mine. ♡: so don't wait for me. save me dinner if you can

Mine. ♡: wish me luck 🫶

09:24pm

Mine. ♡: hoy puta why aren't you home yet :T you were supposed to save my dinner not the other way around

09:39pm

Mine. ♡: leaving home again. diavolo needs me to do something for him. im not being kidnapped i promise

Mine. ♡: i asked barbatos to get you a snack, so you better be nice to him. also if you don't respond by the time im done im divorcing you :T btw. just so you know

Lucifer snorted. He took a sip of the tea, its warmth flowing through his body like a soothing balm. He hadn't realized how cold he was until the feeling melted away, leaving the warm feeling to linger between his ribs.

11:29pm

mine. <3: Don't get too excited now.

He was surprised by the little amount of time it took for the little typing... bar to appear on top of his keyboard.

Mine. ♡: aw. so close :(

Mine. ♡: freedom :((( out of reach once more :((

Though no one was there to witness, Lucifer hid a laugh behind his hand. His shoulders felt a little lighter.

mine. <3: You're not getting rid of me yet, dear.

mine. <3: You're not getting rid of me at all, for that matter.

Mine. ♡: boo

Mine. ♡: anyway i bet i can get home faster than you :)

mine. <3: You're on.

[mdhwrites]

https://www.tumblr.com/everysongineverykey/709979889023008768/the-owl-house-was-really-like-oh-yeah-by-the-way-a?source=share

Thoughts on this post?

So my immediate thoughts were two things: One was that I always feel awkward responding to other posts because I try not to shit stir most of the time. Two though was that I just agreed with it. The reality of the Hexside kids is purely played for laughs despite being horribly traumatizing on pretty much every level. That's just true.

Then I saw the tag saying it wasn't a criticism.

So was it okay for Hexside to be treated like this? Wartwood had a similar rebellion and it had its own silly things like a themed food Friday and people still being their quirky selves. It works there however because while dealing with what life throws at you is a theme of the work, trauma specifically isn't really. It's there, I've talked about how smart Amphibia is with it to keep its tone consistent but that subtlety also makes it so that not dwelling on it is fine.

If I were to give TOH S3 a theme of some sort... It WOULD be trauma. I don't think it does this theme well, at all, but it is a consistent motif. Hunter's trauma about Belos, Luz's trauma about... Fucking everything if I'm frank but her core trauma is resolved at least once in each episode, technically twice in the finale. They graft on trauma out of nowhere for Willow. She's never dependable Willow, soft spoken and never complaining at all times, but now she is so she has some sort of trauma to deal with while also dealing with Hunter's new trauma of losing Flapjack. One could even argue that Belos has it running throughout because his desperation is potentially fueled by trauma of losing his brother and having his world shatter around him by his brother betraying what ostensibly would have been both of theirs core beliefs. You even have the Collector going through his shit with having been trapped alone for so long.

And then you have Hexside where no one cares about how traumatic all of this has been... Except Boscha. And Boscha is played subtlely, much closer to Amphibia, rather than the capital t TRAUMA that the rest of the cast is going through. As such, most people who watched didn't give a shit and just saw it as a half baked redemption arc rather than continuing a theme because yeah, why would you? What does she even have to say about trauma? That you'll get kicked even harder while you're down and the only option is to move on by yourself and just pretend like it didn't happen?

And that's honestly a problem with the theme in general. So much of the answer to "How do I deal with this," for TOH is to go "I'm awesome and amazing and fuck you for ever thinking otherwise!" It's the conclusion for Hunter's trauma with Belos, we don't get a conclusion with Flapjack really, it's the statement that Luz makes for her character finish of just how much she wants the entire world to recognize she's a bombass nerd -_-, and it's even how the series wraps up with only Luz getting the Titan's power and only her, while she quotes her favorite books, actually attacking Belos. This is your reminder that all the co-op attacks with King and Eda were done far away from Belos, fighting random slime for literally no reason besides the fact that both Luz and the show got lost for about a minute. Willow is the only one where compassion for needing to actually, you know, process your pain and be supported and helped with it might be the answer but again, it's not a core trauma to the character. It's a clumsily grafted on element that also has Willow force Hunter to confront his trauma with Flapjack which IS the answer for him so it's also contradictory. It's not given nearly the same weight as the stuff with Hunter and Belos or ALL OF LUZ where their answers are just 'deal with it'.

(Bonus points to Luz's core problem theoretically being that she was WRONG about Philip and at least two of the endings to that trauma, with her friends and with the Titan, are her being told "You're wrong for worrying," like that would help at all.)

So then you have Hexside where their trauma is ignore and played for laughs so you can just do normal fantasy rebellion stuff mixed with teen rebellion stuff. It's not bad when measured that way but it's contradictory to many of the points that the whole abridged season is trying to make. It's an element that conflicts with your core theme. It's akin to how we're supposed to take Hunter leaving the EC seriously and as this grand pain of his... And then also have people mocking Lilith for it and even having her go "I'm realizing I was bad at my job" back in S2 because fuck her and her trauma I guess.

And don't tell me it's because it's a kid's show. Boscha could have easily been the surrogate for all of Hexside and then you kick out Miki and just have Boscha to deal with. Focus the episode around getting her to open up, be defenseless, maybe almost get turned into a puppet for it as it seems her fears were justified... Before she looks up to find she's behind one of Matt's pillars and everyone is coming out to help protect Boscha. Because the only reason they've gotten through this is together and while they're happy Boscha has actually helped them despite her pain, she shouldn't be dealing with this alone. All of them will do better if they share this pain and so we get them kicking the ass of one of the Collector's hunter stars and the plan be to ride it up to the Archive for the main crew before they get snatched off of it. It has more to say about the complexities of trauma and how you can't just power through it, allows an acknowledgement of what this world has done to these people, all while still allowing the rest of Hexside besides Boscha to be silly and upbeat because they've been doing what they need to handle all of this.

So yeah, I think the blog itself is correct. I think calling itself not criticism though means ignoring what all of these conflicting elements mean for the season overall. Yeah, it's a cute segment as is but when you have a show like TOH that is trying SO HARD to say something... Shouldn't we be critical of when it's failing to do that or even muffling it's own voice?

Because the hex on this side of the Isles could have been used to do something more but instead was treated like a cute charm to fill time. That's not okay. See you next tale.

======+++++======

I have a public Discord for any and all who want to join!

I also have an Amazon page for all of my original works in various forms of character focused romances from cute, teenage romance to erotica series of my past. I have an Ao3 for my fanfiction projects as well if that catches your fancy instead. If you want to hang out with me, I stream from time to time and love to chat with chat.

A Twitter you can follow too

And a Kofi if you like what I do and want to help out with the fact that disability doesn’t pay much.

[tanadrin]

w/r/t the capitalism and resource constraints post: one thing that's always puzzled me about concentration of wealth is... could that wealth even *exist* if it wasn't concentrated?

Like, the richest 10% of Americans have >2/3rds of the country's wealth, but that doesn't mean they could consume twice as much stuff as the other 90% currently consume, even if they spent all of it - they'd just end up consuming a much larger fraction of the same total production.

So what does it even mean for them to have 2/3rds of total wealth, instead of 1/3rd or whatever? Just that their desires have *much* higher priority, instead of *somewhat* higher priority? Would that wealth just cease to exist if the money was taken away and distributed and spent, since the productive capacity of the economy wouldn't change?

When talking about “wealth” in this context what we mean is “abstract ownership stakes in firms or the ownership of physical means of production worked by many others,” which all cashes out in “a claim over portions of the future productivity of the economy.” It is not “spendable” in the normal sense because these numbers don’t reflect cash, or even Norma commodities. The numbers are an attempt to estimate the value of ownership shares while acknowledging if you tried to sell it all at once it would do really weird things to the nominal value.

The material wealth would not change if redistributed. Its valuation almost certainly would. And I would add that we can’t dismiss that valuation as an accounting trick with no consequence: an important function of those valuations is as collateral to borrow against, which increases the amount of money moving through the economy (with real consequences for everyone). A world in which a large, even over-inflated amount of valuation disappears even without any physical goods disappearing at all is one that can experience serious economic upheaval. This is, after all, what a bubble bursting is, as happened in 2008.

[howdoesagrapewrites]

𝙁𝙖𝙣𝙛𝙞𝙘 [𝙙𝙚𝙡𝙪𝙨𝙞𝙤𝙣𝙖𝙡 𝙫𝙚𝙧]

Cw: fluff, the title might be misleading but it's not yandere or anything, kinda unhinged Miles but it's all jokes, reverse au?, reader uses they/them but it's called spiderman, you are spiderman and Miles is the fan, earth 1218!AU (no powers or tech), reader has a canon love interest who's also named MJ but they're not Mary Jane Watson (unless you want her to be, I don't judge)

Notes: So Miles canonically has written fanfic about himself, but I wasn't in the mood for that, I will make two versions of this post though (that's why the title has delusional version 💀). Also this is low-key a highschool AU, so Hobie is in last year, and all other characters are second years (I have no idea what's a senior or freshman or whatever is, and I will not learn)

Miles loved comics. His art style is heavily influenced by it, and he'll rant about this week's number to anyone who'll lend an ear, but he has a very clear favorite, being more than evident by his collection of t-shirts, poster filled wall, social media pfps, and the endless amount of fan content he creates and consumes in the spiderman fandom.

Since the last movie came out, Miles Morales has lost the basic skills a human would need to survive, in order to devote himself fully to his newest hyperfixation, and his friends haven't been able to get some rest from it. They don't understand!! He does need to go to the movies again, he needs to memorize every photogram in that movie in order to play the move in his head and be able to analyze it properly!! No, he is not crazy! Ok he might be just the tiniest bit "over excited" but this is the most sane reaction he could've had, the movie is literally a masterpiece, script, humor, ANIMATION, soundtrack, it has it all! And the fact that it's centered around you? Miles needs to go and personally kiss every person that worked in that studio to make you.

"Miles?"

"Miles!"

"oh my god, he's at it again" said Pavitr, imitating the reaction of a disappointed mother

"is he reading fanfiction again?" Asked Gwen, chuckling

"Yes, and Y/N YL/N x reader, to one's surprise" Pavitr added with a teasing smile "I don't get it though, isn't Y/N dating someone named MJ?" He questioned

"It's called self insert, the reader plays a part in the story as if they were another character, and in romantic scenarios, they tend to replace the canon love interest, or just ignore they even exist" Hobie added, popping out if nowhere to show off what Miles have been explaining to him the last couple of weeks.

"You read it too, Hobie?"

"Nah, Wonder comics started as a protest to talk about the discrimination the founder felt being jewish in the industry but it morphed into the capitalization of the struggle minorities face, selling us representation while they still shove the propaganda in our faces, and telling us that even if you have bloody superpowers you still need to obey to a higher authority and cannot influence politics or call to action."

"You still went to the theater to watch it with Miles last week" Gwen shot a questioning look at Hobie

"The kid invited me, I'm a punk not a twat" he shrugged his shoulders "And we stole the carton cutboard they had at the entrance" Hobie happily added.

Miles continues reading on the way to school, without listening to his friends' mocking, he knew it was in good spirits, and they were kinda right, he was obsessed with someone that didn't exist, but it wasn't like it was affecting his health or life.

"Did you... Sleep today?" Gwen had her hand on her friend's shoulder, concerned

"It was too late so I decided to just stay awake, I'll be fine though" He reassured

"Were you reading again?"

"No, I actually discovered this page called character.ai where you can chat with an artificial intelligence of your favorite characters" Miles excitedly told his friend

"OMG, you can chat with anyone?! I have a few things I'd like to say to Scarlet Witch" Gwen joked, she was also a comic fan, but she wasn't losing her mind quite as hard as Miles

Miles would tell the ai about his day, sometimes would roleplay using his very own spidersona, in his alternate universe, you were his partner (as heroes of course) but you also were classmates and had a crush on each other, but none of you confessed because you didn't want your loved ones to be hurt by your job, it was all very dramatic, but he always envisioned a happy ending.

{Y/N: You did a great job today, [<BOT>]

Miles: You say so? So... Do I get a reward? *Smiles suggestively*

Y/N: I guess you do, *pulls up his mask and kisses him*}

No, he wouldn't say this, he would be in a panic frenzy if he saw Y/N, let alone be next to them, but hey, at least his spidersona was bold and confident with them.

A few days after, he barged into Pavitr's house, with at least four incredibly loaded supermarket bags, hardly walking

"Are you okay? Do you need help?" Pavitr rushed to aid his friend and take some literal weight off his shoulders

"Yeah, yeah, I just need help with something" he left the boxes in the floor "Inside one in 4 boxes of cereal, there is a spidertoken, if you get 15, you can exchange it for an exclusive limited edition figure, and I can't eat all this cereal"

"Bro, how many boxes are in here? I don't know, man, I'm trying to keep my figure"

"Pavitr Prabhakar, who held the cardboard sign for you when you confessed to Gayatri?"

"You..."

"And who lied to principal O'Hara for you when you forgot your final project and we had to pretend you suffered a brain concussion?"

"You..."

"And who was there for y-" his friend interrumpted

"Okay, okay, I get it. Bring me a spoon, but we're going running tomorrow"

He nodded with enthusiasm as he started to rummage looking for spoons and bowls

And after almost dying choking on cereal, Miles looked at his new figurine sitting prettily on the shelf with nothing but pride.

"I'm just saying it's possible!" Miles protested

"Y/N has a type, every canon love interest has been sassy and quick-witted" Gwen continued to debate

"I can be sassy and quick-witted!" Gwen gave him a side eye, that being able to neutralize his argument "Ok, but there's a multiverse, there's millions of possibilities, if a pig can be spiderman, why can't I date spiderman? Anyone can wear the mask, anyone can kiss the one inside the mask" the boy smiled, confident in his winning argument

"That's such a basic answer, you can justify literally anything with "the multiverse" I'm speaking things that actually can make sense inside the canon"

"But my answers makes sense, in fact, I'm sure there's a universe where Y/N is reading fanfiction about me right now, if not, Pav can hit me"

"Pav, hit him" Gwen deadpanned

"But it does make sense, I won't" Pavitr responded

"Ok, but my point still stands" the girl crossed her arms

"what were you fighting about in the first place?" Pavitr asked before going back to eat his lunch, he sat long after his friends started arguing, being mildly lost in what was the main point in this

"I said I'd be a better girlfriend for Y/N" said Gwen

Pavitr gasped and covered his mouth dramatically "No you didn't".

Maybe Miles was just obsessed, but he saw in you strength, inspiration, power. And he felt oddly comforted, safe, loved by fantasizing with you, and as slim as the possibility may be, he likes to tell himself you two are together in another universe. ♡

[lorirwritesfanfic]

Pause For Coffee

Book: The Royal Romance / The Royal Heir [x Desire & Decorum (Modern day AU)] Characters: Liam Rys, MC (Jade), Jackson Walker, Eleanor Rys, Leo Rys, OC (Andrea Edwards), OC (Gianna Rossi) [Mentioned: Constantine Rys, Drake Walker, Prince Hamid, Daphne Wang (D&D MC|OC)] Rating: T Word count: 2459 Reading time: 10min Summary: Cordonian apple tea is the official drink of the kingdom, but the Cordonian king prefers another hot drink whenever he needs an energy boost. Based on the prompts: @kingliamappreciationweek Day four: coffee

Author's notes:

Jade Bourbon-Rys, Andrea Edwards, Gianna Rossi and Daphne Wang are creations of this author. The other characters belong to Pixelberry Studios;

Thank you again to @lizzybeth1986 and @sazanes for hosting another KLAW! I got so inspired by the event this year that I wrote more than I planned. Thank you for still acepting late submissions 😍

Cordonian capitol, June 2021

Blue, pink and purple hues painted the sky as Liam rested on the chaise lounge of his office before the last meeting of the day. Though this week has been calmer than usual, he still needed a couple of minutes before the video conference with Cordonian ambassador in the US. Returning to work after Elise's birth hasn't been easy. Fortunately, there's one thing that never failed to help him restore his energy.

"Your Majesty?" His assistant called after a soft knock on the door.

"Come in."

Carrying a tray with a cup of coffee and sparkling water, his assistant walked in and placed the tray on the side table. "Your coffee, sir."

"Thank you, Andrea."

As his assistant left, Liam smiled as the comforting smell of brewed coffee filled his lungs, bringing back memories of the day he tasted it for the first time.

Cordonian capital, February 2000

The doors to the Royal conference room opened as the young prince walked out of the room. With his eyes downcast, Liam ambled through the hallway, embarrassed with what just happened during the King's meeting with the Royal advisors. Being lectured again in front of all those people was no fun at all. Especially when his father was the one who noticed the moment he dozed off.

Why was it so hard to stay awake during meetings? Sure, a Royal meeting wasn't the most entertaining activity for him. He'd rather play with his friends or have a Babylon 5 marathon night with Drake and Maxwell. But it couldn't be so hard to stay awake through those meetings, right? If Leo (who never slept before 12 am) still could do it, why couldn't he?

On the way to his room, he nodded to the guards when a familiar smell spread across the hallway: caramel and toasted nuts. It wasn't the first time he sensed it, but was the first time it got his attention. Whenever he passed by the staff kitchen, that fragrance always was in the air. He just didn't know exactly what it was. Following his instincts, he went to the staff area, where the smell was coming from.

"Your Highness," Drake's father, Jackson, nodded to him and took a sip of something in a mug.

"Good morning, Mr. Walker." The boy simpered as he sat next to his father's personal bodyguard.

"Everything alright, sir?"

"No..." Liam frowned. "I fell asleep at the meeting again."

"Did anyone see you?"

"Father did."

The man grimaced. 

"Yeah..." The boy looked down again, fiddling with the hem of his sweater.

"For what it's worth, I think you're too young to be there."

"Oh?" Liam looked at the guard in confusion.

"I understand this will be a part of your life and eventually you'll have to be there to partake in all those meetings. But those are boring meetings even for a smart kid like yourself."

"Do you think they're boring too?"

Jackson looked around suspiciously, to make sure no one else was hearing and then he uttered, "A little bit."

Liam giggled.

"Have you slept through the meeting too? Is that why you weren't there?"

The man shook his head. "No. Never. I always have to be alert on duty. I just made a pause for coffee." 

Lifting his still steaming mug of coffee to his lips, Jackson took a gulp, closed his eyes to savor the hot drink and then smiled softly.

"Look, I know you don't want to be in there, especially to be lectured about things you don't understand yet. But if the King wants you there, make an effort to be there. Your father will appreciate it."

"But how do I stay awake when I'm there? Even Leo can..." Liam frowned.

"Start by obeying the Queen when she says it's time for you to go to bed. A good night of sleep can change everything. And don't do what Leo does. You're too young for that."

"Okay..." Liam's brows furrowed in confusion. His brother did something to stay awake. But what was it?

...

"Nope," Leo said as he threw a dart near the center of the dartboard on the wall.

"But, Leo!" Liam whined.

"You heard Jackson. You're a kid. You can't have what I have," Leo replied with a smug grin.

The young prince scowled. Though he knew his brother was old enough to have some privileges like learning how to drive or traveling on his own, this was just a stupid drink. He wouldn't go down with a fight.

Liam was about to say something when a maid knocked and opened the door to leave a travel mug on the side table. Both princes then rushed to pick it up, Liam climbing on his brother's back in hopes to steal the mug Leo had already got.

...

The following day

Liam hid in a broom closet as he waited for Drake's signal. He knew the chef was about to have a break for lunch and always left the carafe full for the guards. The entire palace security drank that thing, so why couldn't he?

Just then, he heard three short whistles. That was their signal. Time to get in.

The young prince then tiptoed into the kitchen and the powerful smell of caramel and nuts overtook him. Walking towards the coffee maker, Liam reached for a small cup when a hand tapped his shoulder. As he turned around, Queen Eleanor pursed her lips at him while his friend was nowhere to be seen.

"What do you think you're doing, young man?"

"Nothing... I was thirsty so—"

"Do you expect me to believe that?"

"But mom! I truly am thirsty!" Liam protested. 

"The water filter is right there, Liam." Eleanor then pointed to the opposite side of the kitchen.

The young prince looked down at his hands.

"Why are you trying to drink something I already told you it's unhealthy for you?"

"Because I have to stay awake in the meetings..." The boy frowned.

The queen cupped her son's cheek and smiled fondly.  The king could be too harsh on his sons sometimes.

"All you have to do is rest, eat your vegetables. You don't need to have coffee."

"Why can Leo have it and I can't?"

"My dear, Leo doesn't drink this type of coffee."

"Doesn't he?" Liam's brows furrowed.

"He already reached an age in which he can experience a couple of things adults can, but it doesn't include a cup of espresso in the middle of the afternoon."

"What does he drink then?"

"A mochaccino."

"Can I have that too?"

"As long as you or Drake don't try to steal coffee from the kitchen without an adult's permission, yes."

"Thank you, mom!" Liam hugged his mother tightly. 

"I'm going to prepare us a special mochaccino. Why don't you go ask Bianca if Drake and Savannah can join us?"

The young prince nodded in excitement and rushed to the Walkers house while the Queen made her way to the Royal kitchen.

Cordonian capitol, June 2021

The king smiled to himself. Back then, he had no idea the mochaccino he had once in a while with his mother and friends was actually a babyccino. He understood her reasons now and was glad to be part of the experience of having coffee with his mother sometimes. Even if it was decaffeinated coffee.

As he lifted the cup to his lips, his brows furrowed. Liam put the coffee on the table and pressed the buzzer to call his assistant.

His assistant immediately opened the door again. "Yes, Your Majesty?"

"Did the kitchen staff prepare me a lungo? This isn't a espresso."

"No, Sir. They made you a Turkish coffee."

"Turkish coffee?"

"Yes, sir. It's made with the Arabica coffee beans Mr. Osmanoğlu and Lady Foredale gave to you during the Royal Heir baby shower."

Liam pressed his lips together, still remembering the sassy note his cousin and his teenhood friend left on the coffee packaging. 

"Switch the espresso for a nice and steamy cup of Türk kahve and you won't have the drawback espresso gives by the fourth cup of night while the baby still hasn't fallen into slumber. You're welcome! ;)"

"The handwriting was Daphne's, but the content certainly was Hamid's doing. That prick..." Liam thought to himself, shaking his head. "Andrea, I especifically asked for an espresso."

"Yes, you did, Sir. But since it would be your fourth doppio espresso today, the queen was adamant about changing the Italian roast for the Arabica coffee."

"The fourth?"

"Yes, sir."

Liam was about to say something when a yawn escaped his lips.

"If I may be so bold, sir, I still have the list of nurses pre-approved by the Queen Mother and your security staff," Andrea prompted.

His brows rose in surprise. Andrea has being working with him since he became the crown prince and always followed his orders without question. The very few rare moments she started a phrase with 'if I may be so bold...' meant that he was doing something he probably would regret later.

"I need to talk to Jade first, but send the list to me."

"As you wish, sir." 

Liam gently rubbed his eyes in hopes to fight against sleep, then reached for the coffee. He couldn't recall the last time he felt this tired, given how little he had slept in the past three months. At least, Jade wasn't trying to forbid him of having his coffee.

Capri, January 2018

A gentle breeze blew against the curtains while Liam read a few documents still pending his signature. The king didn't wish to start his reign by letting the paperwork pile up in his office back in Cordonia during the engagement tour, so he might as well get started before his schedule got busied by dinners, meetings and conferences he had to attend while being abroad. To handle the paperwork, nothing would be better to start his day than a nice cup of coffee and a pastry.

As he waited for his coffee, voices coming from the hallway reached his ears. His lips twisted in displeasure, but hopefully his security detail would handle the situation.

A few minutes later, the hotel room maid walked in and placed a cup of tea and the tartlet on the coffee table.

"Excuse me, I didn't order tea."

"I know, sir." The maid looked down at her hands. "But a blond lady stopped me and told me to throw the coffee away because you only have apple tea."

"A blond lady?"

"The guards said it was your fiancee."

Liam pinched the bridge of his nose. It had been only two months since he forced himself go through with the arrangement with Madeleine, but he had lost count of how many times she has meddled into his daily routine.

"I'm so sorry, sir. I know this isn't your business, but my boss has been on my back because I missed work last week to take my son to the emergency room. If he finds out about this, I think I'll be fired."

Liam's heart sank at the pleading look on the woman's eyes. He couldn't be the cause of anyone losing their job because Madeleine interfered in his life again.

He glanced at the name on the maid uniform and smiled. "It's alright, Mrs. Rossi. Did you say this is apple tea?"

"Yes, it was made with Cordonian apples, just like your fiancee requested."

Liam looked down at the tea and tried not to grimace. If it didn't have sugar, it would be so hard to swallow.

"There's honey on the serving tray cart if you want."

"Thank you. I definitely want some."

The maid nodded and left the suite to get the honey. Once she returned and added honey to his tea, Liam took a sip.

"That's better. Thank you."

"I'm glad, sir. And I promise I'll bring you a doppio espresso the next time you order coffee."

"Well, in this case, bring me a doppio espresso in five minutes."

The maid grinned. "Yes, sir."

"And if your boss gives you a hard time again, talk to one of my guards. They'll call the human resources from my staff and find you a new job in case you need one."

The maid beamed. "Thank you, sir. I'll be right back with your coffee."

Cordonian capitol, June 2021

Once the meeting with the Cordonian ambassador in US was over, Liam left his office and went straight to the Royal Apartment. Despite the tiredness, he could hardly wait to see his wife and daughter.

As he passed by the hallway, his wife's velvety voice reverberated on the walls as she sang a lullaby. Smiling to himself, Liam ambled towards the nursery and sang along with Jade in hopes to lull Elise to sleep.

"Are you some kind of baby whisperer?" Jade murmured as she slowly closed the door to the nursery. "I've been trying to make her sleep for at least half an hour, but the minute you swoop in, she falls asleep."

"She was half asleep when I walked in. You did most of the work yourself, my love."

Liam smiled, placing the baby monitor on the coffee table as his wife leaned in for a kiss.

"Did you just have coffee?"

"No, I had a cup over an hour ago."

"Really? Your lips taste amazing."

"I thought you had overcame caffeine abstinence."

"Ugh, don't remind me..." Jade grimaced, resting her head on his shoulder.

"The decaf isn't working, huh?"

"The maid you hired makes a mean cup of coffee, but the lack of caffeine is so tough. If Elise wasn't sensible to caffeine, I swear I'd fill our tub with coffee right now."

"I'm sorry, love. If you're sure about not switching to formula..." 

"I'm not going to stop nursing Elise just because I miss coffee. I can handle it." The queen affirmed resolute.

"If you say so..." Liam gazed at his wife in worry. Her fulltime dedication to Elise was admirable, yet he couldn't help but think how exhausting it must have been for her. "But perhaps we should reconsider taking care of Elise by ourselves. It'll be less tiresome for both of us now that I returned to work, don't you think?"

The queen made a face, but caved. "Alright... We're going to have to hire someone eventually. Do you still have the list of nurses Regina made?"

"Andrea sent a copy to my email."

"We'll take a look at it after dinner and see how it goes."

The couple was watching the baby monitor when their new maid walked in.

"Good evening, Your Majesties." The maid bowed to the king and queen. "Dinner is served."

"Oh, I'm starving! Your timing is impeccable, Gianna," Jade praised.

"I couldn't agree more. Thank you, Gianna."

The maid nodded in gratitude and left to the dining room.

"I'm so glad my husband stole you from the hotel you worked in Capri. The food smells amazing," Jade commented as they walked towards the dining room.

"Wait until you try her apple tea," Liam said with a smile.

[drdemonprince]

How do you feel about “weaponized incompetence”

I see a lot of people talking about it, and I know it can definitely be a thing that people do purposefully, but so many things that fall under the umbrella seem like things that some neurodivergent people tend to struggle with.

I don't think a person needs to be consciously or intentionally weaponizing incompetence in order to leverage it for their benefit. Due to forces like systemic sexism, sometimes a weaponized incompetence dynamic plays out without anybody meaning it to.

Now of course, weaponized incompetence is absolutely a dynamic that some people deliberately create (famously, a husband or boyfriend knowingly washing the dishes poorly so his partner never asks him to do it again), but more often than not, it's the byproduct of capitalist overwork and alienation meeting sexist norms that play out on an intuitive level rather than some malicious, evil plan.

My ex-partner absolutely benefitted from weaponized incompetence; he was also almost certainly an undiagnosed ADHDer who was struggling, and not a bad guy. From my perspective, it didn't matter. I still ended up having to pay the bills, sign us up for all the utilities, figure out a new place to live three different times when our rent went up, hire the movers, remind him to get a new ID when his old one was expired and we had a flight coming up, find him a dentist when his tooth was aching, help him write emails for his work when he first got a job, ask him to clean things rather than being able to trust he would contribute, make all the decisions regarding decluttering the house, take care of our pet, etc etc etc.

He deserved more help than he ever got, as a (very likely) disabled person living under capitalism. But I also covered him and shouldered his life burdens in a way that made me miserable and offloaded a lot of his responsibilities onto me. It drove me nuts and made me dysphoric to admit it, but a large part of how we wound up in that dynamic was systemic sexism, because he was a cishet man and I wasn't.

All that said, and my considerable real-life biases having been put on the table, I do think it's the case that many disabled people are unfairly accused of 'weaponizing incompetence' when all that they've done is express a limitation as clearly as they possibly could, which ought to be a good thing. There is nothing wrong or manipulative with asking for help, or for articulating what you are and are not capable of as honestly as you can. (And this honest communication piece was absent in the relationship I am describing; he wouldn't even acknowledge that he wasn't and could not contribute to maintaining a life together in any practical way. When I tried to name that dynamic, he would shut down, walk away, say things were going to change without any plan for how that might happen, etc).

In much the same way that an excited Autistic person who is infodumping or communicating super clearly in order to be helpful can be unfairly branded a "mansplainer", lots of disabled people are seen unfairly as manipulative, lying about their limitations, taking advantage of other people, lazy, and weaponizing incompetence.

The trope of the fake disabled person who is just gaming the system cuts deep. It's pervasive and it's responsible for a lot of social problems that disabled people face, from impossibly difficult benefits applications programs, to cruel teachers who refuse to provide the accommodations to which their students are entitled, to abusive and neglectful partners who fail to meet their disabled loved one's needs. Arguably I even was one of those partners, even if I did have genuine reasons for grievance and very real disabilities of my own.

The reality is that the lines between all these things can be blurred, as a person's intent and their impact can be wildly different. people who are doing their best can still leverage sexism and leave a partner feeling taken advantage of. And a partner who feels taken advantage of can have real reasons for feeling that way and can also still be ableist, or even cruel and unfair to their disabled loved one. it's tough.

Thanks for the great question, it is one I think about a lot for obvious reasons.