#class consciousness young royals

[raincitygirl76]

Super fascinating take above on August’s reasoning. @zee-has-commitment-issues is not an August apologist, but they explain how his thought processes probably went. Explaining the context of his actions in 1.05 without condoning them. Really, really interesting.

do you think august would have leaked the video if Simon wasn’t in it/it wasn’t clear it was him? or was it just enough that wille was with a guy and he wanted to out him and make his life miserable? like, how big of a part do you think Simon played in August’s decision to leak the video? ( also, at first it looks like august thinks that Wille’s with a girl when hes recording, and as sick as it is to film it, he didn’t seem nearly as malicious as when he saw it was Simon)

I have so many thoughts about this. So many.

Short answer: no. If it wasn't Simon, August wouldn't have posted the video.

Long answer:

When we see August record the video, there is no malicious intent. He saw Wille in a moment and wanted to make fun of him. He probably had the intention of sending him the video and saying "close the curtains" or something like that. August probably didn't take the video with the intention of leaking it. That changed when he saw it was a guy. At first, I don't think it was about Simon. I think at first August was freaking out because he'd just found out Wille - the future king - was "gay" and he didn't know what to do. And that really is what he was freaking out about. We hear him ask Vincent, "what kind of King do you think Wille will make?" He's worried about the monarchy. At first.

I also don't think August realized/realizes how important Simon is in all of this. August gives Wille multiple changes to pull away from Simon. The morning after he catches them, he asks Wille how he got home and Wille lies (something about memory loss and blacking out). This probably just solidified to August that it was Wille's mistake. That it wasn't happening again. That Wille genuinely did want to forget about it.

So he gives Wille a chance to get rid of Simon. With the drugs. They would be getting rid of their problems with the Society and getting rid of Wille's unfortunate hook up. August offers him an easy way out of his mistake and doesn't understand why he doesn't take it. "You didn't know? I thought you were buddies" was probably an attempt at humor, actually. More of a "isn't that funny? You hooked up with a drug dealer. Let's get rid of the problem before it arises."

But then Wille exposes his money problems. The only person who knows about that is Simon. So now August has to deal with the fact that not only was he wrong about Wille, he was wrong about this being a mistake. Because Wille isn't avoiding Simon or trying to get rid of him. He's talking to Simon, and Simon is telling him the truth about August.

So now he's hurt, and embarrassed, and a little confused. He feels betrayed by his family and the only thing he can think of is how Simon was the cause. He wanted to get back at Wille for exposing him, but he wanted to get back at Simon for corrupting Wille.

Wille was supposed to be his.

In August's mind, Wille was supposed to be his. His buddy, his little brother, the person he mentored. Simon took that from him in one swoop. Simon walked in and stole Wille, and he didn't even like the monarchy. Simon was loud, and poor, and violent.

So August was getting back at Wille for exposing the money problems, yes.

But he was also getting back at Simon for ruining his life. Because in August's mind, that's what happened. Simon ruined his life.

There are so many "if's" that would have stopped August from leaking the video.

If Simon had been a girl, August wouldn't have leaked the video.

If Wille hadn't been so keen on keeping Simon around, August wouldn't have leaked the video.

If Simon didn't tell Wille about the money problems, August wouldn't have leaked the video.

If Wille didn't expose those money problems, August wouldn't have leaked the video.

If Wille had been hooking up with a different guy, August wouldn't have leaked the video.

It wasn't about Wille being "gay." It wasn't about Wille hooking up with someone. It wasn't about Wille at all, really.

It was about Wille and Simon. It was both of them. A package deal.

If it was Wille without Simon or Simon without Wille, August wouldn't have leaked the video. It had to be about both of them.

August killed two birds with one stone and he knew that's what he was doing.

~~~

Thank you for asking thing, Anon. I have so many thoughts on this series, specifically August and his relationships with people. This was fun to answer. If anyone else wants to ask something like this, please do.

[thatsmybook]

Rosh in Young Royals' appreciation post from this excellent thread by bujor on X/ Twitter.

(Often overlooked and primarily seen as Simon's support system, Rosh and Ayub are the working class consciousness of a show dominated by the Upper Class.)

Part 1/Season 1 of Rosh Rules post by @x_bujor_x

Part 2 (and soon 3) in the reblogs

[thlayli-ra]

'I Prayed For This...'

(Sequel to 'When Hell Froze Over')

Characters - Seth Rollins, CM Punk, Drew McIntyre, Cody Rhodes, Sami Zayn

AU - Valetverse (created by Syreina)

Rating - Teen and up

Warnings - Wrestling violence, mild language

Words - ~2700 words

Background Info - In a world where women no longer exist, society is split into two; dominants (the ruling class) and valets (who possess the 'inualidus chromosome' that allows them to bear children). Stripped of basic human rights, valets are expected to be entirely subservient to the dominants that claim them and few are prized higher than the valets of the WWE. Seth Rollins and CM Punk are both such valets and are married to Roman Reigns and The Undertaker, respectively.

Summary - Seth's scheme rapidly backfires!

From high up in the sky box, Seth Rollins watched on as the Royal Rumble unfolded in the ring. Lounging easily with a sarcastic smirk on his face, he was the very picture of aloofness, right up until the moment the crowd counted down '5...4...3...2...1', the buzzer screeched.

And the static hit! Followed by the first chords of 'Cult of Personality'.

The change in Seth was immediate. The smile disappeared and he sat upright, leaning forward to observe the older man slowly making his way to the ring. CM Punk was savouring the moment, bathing in the roar of the crowd. Seth couldn't blame him; this was his first televised match since his unexpected return to the WWE back at Survivor Series. This was a moment to remember.

But for all the wrong reasons!

Seth felt a nasty pang in his gut. Watching the man who had once been a friend, a mentor and so much more enter the ring, oblivious to what lay in store. What was this strange feeling? Like he was about to throw up? It couldn't be guilt. It was too late for that. Seth had already set the wheel in motion, baited the trap. There was no turning back now.

And yet... the feeling lingered, growing worse. Seeing Punk race across the ring in his gear with his dark hair slicked back, he almost looked like his younger self. A big greyer, perhaps, a bit thinner on top and wider around the waist. Yet even so...

After throwing Dominik Mysterio over the top rope, Punk posed for the hard-cam, arms open wide and from his vantage point behind him in the crowd, Seth gave a small gasp. A flashback burned into his consciousness at the sight. A memory of Punk standing just like that, placing his body as a human shield to protect a terrified young valet who quivered on the ground as a behemoth of a dominant barrelled towards them. Mark Henry had came dangerously close to killing Punk that day but the tattooed valet had never regretted his actions for a second. Once, when the pair were alone, Seth had broken down, sobbing as he apologised profusely for what had happened, and what had nearly happened.

But Punk... Phil, had merely wiped his tears away with the pad of his thumb, smiling gently. 'Don't fret, Kitten,' he'd said. 'I'd do it all again in a heartbeat.' Then he'd held Seth's chin in his inked fingers, one corner of his pierced lips curling. 'I'd do anything for my boys.'

'Oh shit!' Seth cursed aloud. 'Shit, shit, shit! DAMNIT!'

He'd changed his mind!

He stuttered up to his feet. He had to find Drew, call the whole thing off before-

'5...4...3...2...1... BZZZZT!'

Suddenly the rally of bagpipes tore through the air. Seth froze, his skin turning pale.

It was too late!

His co-conspirator, his inside man, his assassin was already on his way to the ring. Even from high up in the sky box, he could see the murderous glare on the Scottish dominant's face, his blue eyes boring directly into Punk.

From the moment they clashed, it was brutal. The thunderous chops, the ruthless Future Shock DDT, Drew punished the shorter man, targeting him relentlessly. Even when the pair of them made it to the final four alongside Cody Rhodes and Gunther, Punk was the last to his feet, looking winded. Seth watched the older valet rubbing his right arm with a grimace, the sensation of shame hot on his skin.

But then, the unthinkable happened. Punk had Drew dangling on the ropes, perched atop his shoulders. Seth had slumped across those same shoulders before, prior to falling victim to the GTS. A valet he may be, shorter and wirier than the dominants he often faced in the squared circle, but Punk was strong. It was almost inevitable; following a short struggle, Punk got the upper hand-

- and dumped Drew to the outside!

Conflict raged inside of Seth. On one hand, he was relieved his cruel plan had been foiled. Yet, on the other, he was still angry at the older valet. After all, had he not turned his back on them all and walked away? Hadn't he shown everybody his true colours at the other place? Hadn't he publicly dragged Seth's husband, Jon, through the mud on social media?

No matter what he had done in the past, his current actions mattered too. He didn't deserve a chance at Seth's title!

Soon, Gunther was gone, and it came down to the two men left standing. Two valets! Cody Rhodes and CM Punk! Men who had a long history with the company, who had both left and returned from the wilderness. Who both had something to prove and a story to finish.

Seth ground his teeth, studying his fellow valets keenly as they tussled in the ring, the pair of them cagey and determined. Several times, Punk got the better of the younger man and Seth felt his heart sink only for Cody to fight back, but when Punk got the American Nightmare up onto his shoulders, it looked to be over.

Punk paused. Turning around, he stared longingly up at the Wrestlemania sign. His white whale, his gaping void in his résumé. His one remaining dream.

A dream that was shattered when Cody leapt down, grabbed the older valet and threw him over the top rope. Forgetting himself, Seth leapt to his feet, cheering the winner with the rest of the WWE Universe. Now there was someone who deserved it, had clawed and scratched and earned their shot. An opponent that Seth would be proud to face, they would tear the house down and leave everything right there in the ring.

Cody stood on the turnbuckle, celebrating his win but Seth's eye travelled down to his beaten opponent slumped against the announce table with his knees drawn up to his chest. Punk looked so defeated, gazing up forlornly at the victor as he kneaded his right elbow with his inked fingers.

The pangs in his chest returned and Seth sharply looked away.

That should have been it. Done with. Over.

But then, the rumours started. Punk was injured. Bad. His arm, apparently.

He was given the opening slot of Raw to address the WWE Universe. Arriving late in order to avoid the man himself, Seth joined the small crowd gathered in gorilla to watch Punk's segment. The sight of the veteran wrestler with his arm in a sling and tears in his eyes stabbed him repeatedly in the heart. A voice began screaming in his head, over and over.

This is all your fault. This is all your fault. This is all your fault.

Punk spoke well, like he always did. Spoke of his grief and disappointment, but he didn't dwell long. To him, it was a bump in the road, a flesh wound. He was going to heal and then he'd be back, bigger and stronger and better than ever.

When all of a sudden, Drew's music hit. Every drop of blood in Seth's veins turned to ice.

Drew, what are you doing?

He watched with growing urgency as the huge dominant entered the ring, grabbed a mic and faced the tattooed valet. Every single onlooker around him held their breath, a sense of dread lingering like a mist in the air. Yet, it looked to be unfounded tension. Drew was being civil, sympathetic, even.

'I've never been much of a spiritual person but I want you to know this,' Drew said, pointing down at Punk's injured arm. He took a breath, wetting his lips with his tongue. 'I prayed for this and it happened.'

The atmosphere turned sour. The dread returned. The camera zoomed in on Punk's face, capturing the shock and disgust on the valet's features. The tightening of his jaw. The darkening of his tear-stained eyes.

Drew was mocking him now, gloating about how he had rid the WWE of Punk and now was going to take his spot at Wrestlemania, basking in the poisonous glare being shot his way. Seth felt a surge of anxiety. He knew Punk well enough by now to know that he wasn't going to just stand back and take such blatant disrespect and sure enough, the valet strode right up to the dominant, going chest-to-chest as he stared the Scotsman down. Seth was struck with the different in their sizes; Drew was tall, even for a dominant, and broad, towering over Punk in every way possible. The tattooed valet was heavily disadvantaged when fully fit, let alone with only one working arm.

'My heart hurts worse than my tricep does ,' Punk growled into the mic, his hazel eyes piercing right into Drew's blues. 'I'm gonna go rehab it and when I come back, I will main-event Wrestlemania, but the first checklist is you! I'm coming right for you!'

Seth saw the danger coming. Get out of there, Phil!

Drew stepped back with a chuckle. However it was a ruse and he pounced, striking out with his clenched fist. Punk ducked down underneath it. Get out of there, Phil! But Punk didn't run, he wasn't in the habit of running. He turned around, kicked his would-be assailant-

-then clattered his injured arm into Drew's face!

'Jesus Christ, Punk!' Somebody beside Seth uttered under his breath, repeating Seth's own thoughts. What the hell was he thinking? Or maybe he wasn't thinking? Was it just muscle memory?

Whether he realised his mistake or not, Punk didn't seem to care as he paused to rip his sling off so it didn't impede his next attack. But he was too slow. It was the exact opening Drew needed and he clashed their heads together. A Glasgow's Kiss, Drew called it. Sounded romantic but it was all brutality. Punk went down, falling onto his back, dazed from the blow.

'You should have gotten out of there,' Seth hushed out, watching like a ghoul as the valet writhed on the mat. Drew went in for the kill, grabbing Punk's injured arm and spreading it out across the canvas, exposing the bandaged wound.

'SOMEBODY'S GOTTA STOP THIS!' It was Sami voicing his protest, appealing to the rest of the group in gorilla. 'IS NOBODY GONNA STOP THIS?' He briefly caught Seth's eye but the World Champion quickly looked away.

Punk was helpless, the whole world watching as Drew lifted up his heavy boot. Unable to fight back as the dominant stomped down savagely on the already injured limb. Punk's howl of pain rang out through the arena, louder even than the crowd that hurled their rage at the Scottish Warrior. Drew didn't seen to hear as he paced the ring, circling his powerless prey.

He's not done!' Seth realised, feeling bile rise up his throat, acid scorching the inside of his mouth.

'WEL I'M GONNA DO SOMETHING!' Sami declared, heading for the curtain.

Drew was like a man possessed, obsessed, a rabid dog as he dropped to his knees and crouched down over Punk, grabbing a fistful of his dark hair. 'Scream for me!' the microphone picked up his distinct roar. 'Scream for me!'

At last, Sami arrived on the scene, chasing the dominant out of the ring before rushing to help his fellow valet. The cameras lingered on Drew who was in no rush to leave. Loitering on the apron with a mad glint in his eye, he watched Sami and the officials tend to Punk.

A shiver rocketed up Seth's spine at the sight. He'd seen enough and turned away from the screen, practically running from gorilla and down the hallways until he found a quiet spot to catch his breath. Slumping against the wall, he smoothed his hands over his head, trying to fight back against the sickly pain in his stomach. 'What did you do?' he muttered to himself. 'What the hell did you do?'

'You backed the right horse.'

Seth leapt a foot in the air, yelping with surprise when Drew suddenly appeared beside him, nonchalantly leaning against the wall. The valet saw red.

'What the hell was that, man?' Seth demanded, rounding on the much larger man.

'You told me to take Punk out,' Drew shrugged his shoulders. He was different now. Calmer. Cooler. Somehow, it was unnerved Seth even more than the madness in his eyes a few minutes ago.

'Yeah, I meant out the Royal Rumble!' Seth clarified. 'Just throw him over the top rope, not put him out of action completely.'

'Happy accident,' Drew sneered like a hyena, pushing himself off the wall and taking a step towards the smaller man. 'Anyway, you should be thanking me.'

Seth's heart began to pound as he took a step backwards, finding himself backed into a corner. A dead end. Just like that night with Henry. Only this time, there was no Punk, no Phil, no human shield to protect him from the incoming threat.

'Did you really think Punk would call it quits after losing the Royal Rumble match?' Drew went on, closing the gap between them, his voice soft like a tiger's growl. 'No, he would have set his eye on winning the Elimination Chamber and we'd be right back to square one.' By now, he had reached Seth and his large hands gently grasped the lapels of the valet's brightly coloured jacket, softly stroking the fabric. 'What I did wasn't pretty but it was necessary. If I wanted to save Wrestlemania, if I wanted to save WWE itself, I had to exorcise the demon. I had to end CM Punk.'

For some reason, Seth bristled. 'He said he's coming back.'

'Then I'll finish him for good,' Drew snarled, the viciousness in his tone returning. The dominant quickly shook it off, plastering an easy smile on his face. 'Anyway, enough about him. I actually came here to tell you that I will be entering the Elimination Chamber...' Slowly, Drew eased the lapels of Seth's jacket apart, revealing the World Heavyweight Championship belt around his waist, large and golden, shining in the dim light. '..and I will do whatever it takes to win. Only question is... what prize will I claim for my Wrestlemania moment?'

Blue eyes travelled up from the belt, taking in the sight of Seth's tanned skin beneath the mesh of his shirt, drinking in the athletic frame of the valet. Seth froze under his predatory eye, shoulders heaving as he was ogled so openly by the dominant. The etiquette backstage might have eased up once inter-sex matches became common-place but to have a dominant that wasn't his husband standing this close to him, touching him, leering perversely like this was still alarming. It reminded him of that night when Henry had cornered him in a dark corridor with the same sickening smirk on his lips.

Seth wished Roman was here; he would soon put the Scotsman in his place. Show him exactly who Seth belonged to!

All of a sudden, Drew's gaze snapped up and around the corner, looking down to the far end of the hallway. Seth glanced back over his shoulder and found Punk being helped onto a production crate, wincing as he clutched his seething arm. His heart skipped a beat the second he looked back up at Drew's face and saw the malice in the dominant's features. The hunger! Like a starved animal craving a delicious morsel.

Without once taking his eyes from Punk, Drew closed Seth's jacket again, lightly patting the valet on the chest before releasing him. 'See you around, Seth,' he said before slinking away into the shadows.

With the dominant gone, Seth could finally breath, letting out a shaky breath. This wasn't what was meant to happen when he recruited Drew into his little scheme. It wasn't meant to have gotten out of hand like this. Seth looked over at Punk, thinking back on everything that had transpired earlier in the ring, thinking about the way Drew had looked at the tattooed valet just now.

A long time ago, Punk had put his life on the line to save Seth from a predatory dominant.

And to repay him, Seth had unleashed a terrible curse on the tattooed valet.

He trembled at the thought of what lay in store for them both.

[raincitygirl76]

Great post. My only caveats are that:

A) Even while attending public schools, outside of school hours, Wilhelm would have heard social ideas like the ones Hillerska students espouse in 1.01 all his life. From his own relatives, from family friends, etc, etc. Kristina and Ludvig sent him to Hillerska. His upbringing would have been very conservative and traditional.

B) Although Wilhelm previously attended public schools, they would’ve been “nice” public schools in “nice” neighborhoods. I don’t know if they do catchment areas in Sweden, but any school within reasonable distance of a royal palace will have plenty of rich kids attending. So he would have heard plenty of conservative talking points from his previous schoolmates. That said, rich parents who could afford to send their kids to private school but choose to send them to public school instead probably skew a bit more liberal than rich parents who send their kids to Hillerska. And public school teachers, even those teaching at a “nice” school in an upper middle class area, would probably be, on average, less deferential to arch-conservative ideas than Hillerska teachers.

So I suspect that while pre-Hillerska Wilhelm wasn’t QUITE as insulated in a privileged bubble as the average Hillerska student, he was still mostly encased in the bubble. Ironic that Kristina and Ludvig decide Wilhelm’s problem is his public school in Stockholm, and insist on sending him to Hillerska against his will. Kristina is quite open in 1.01 that the whole point of him going there is to make the “right” kind of friends.

And then Wille promptly falls in love with a Hillerska student who is working class, a non-boarder, a person of colour, a socialist, the child of an immigrant, and male to boot. Simon represents everything Kristina and Ludvig were trying to avoid by sending their son to an elite boarding school. And yet that’s where Wille met him.

The politics of class and privilege in Young Royals

I wrote this post a few days ago about why I read Young Royals as anti-monarchy, sparked by the results of this poll. Since then, I've been thinking, and I realized that some of the details of the show that form its political attitudes are quite subtle, and deserve to be pointed out. And I know how much we love YR deep-dive analysis posts, and so this post was born.

Note that this is coming from a USA perspective, with light research on Swedish context. I welcome questions, additions, corrections, and disagreements. And let me know if this was helpful to you at all! If so, there are more scenes I can write about (though none of them would be this long).

Season 1, Episode 1: Wille's first class

This is a revealing scene. It feels significant from the start, because it’s the first time Simon and Wille are in close quarters. And then the very first kind-of-interaction between the boys is loaded with tension about class and politics.

This appears to be some kind of ethics or social studies class. The whiteboard reads “[something], punishment, and crime,” and the teacher has been asking the students to rank the severity of various crimes. She casually invites discussion on tax evasion vs. welfare fraud, “two less sensitive issues.” Did she not anticipate how loaded that question would be in this context?

Walter is ready with an answer before the teacher has even finished her question. He defends tax evasion with the common capitalist talking point of “job creation.” Proponents of economic conservatism claim that businesses should be freed from regulations (e.g. laws on workers’ rights and fair business practices) and taxes, because the more free rein they have, the more jobs they will create. This is a myth. Capitalist businesses always prioritize growth and profit. If there’s ever an opportunity to make more money while employing fewer people and paying them less, they will take it. Left to their own devices, businesses develop new technologies and efficiencies, often at the cost of workers’ safety, and for many of them, their jobs. What really increases the number of jobs available? Tax rates and social benefits that boost the middle class, because that increases consumption, and therefore business and employment. Laws for workers’ health, safety, and well-being also increase available jobs. (If you can’t make one person do this job for this many hours, or this quickly, or alone, you have to hire more people.) Despite having no backing in reality, the idea of unencumbered businesses as job creators remains popular.

Walter sounds like he may be parroting his pro-capitalist parents. Stella could be parroting her own parents, or just the society at large when she adds that “welfare scammers give nothing back, they just take.” The specter of welfare fraud is a myth engrained even more in the public consciousness, and a racist one at that. The welfare fraud myth got big in the US in the 70’s, when US President Reagan used the false stereotype of the “welfare queen” to attack government-provided benefits (food stamps, unemployment income, etc.) and stoke anti-Black racism. By any measure, welfare fraud is actually very rare. But the myth is perpetuated, because it gives conservative politicians an excuse to police and criminalize people of color, who (in the US at least) require food stamps at disproportionate rates (though white people still receive food stamps more than any other racial group).

Think about what Stella’s statement says about her perspective on the humanity and worth of different groups of people. She’s hating on the idea of poor people receiving any more welfare (literally meaning health, happiness, well-being) than the amount the government has chosen to ration out. She says “welfare scammers,” but you can tell she’s also talking about welfare recipients in general. She’s suggesting that something that improves the life of a poor person or family doesn’t actually matter to society or to her—because that person or family is worthless, and not a significant part of society. Stella is a member of the upper class, and sees herself as entirely separate and fundamentally different from the sectors of working class and poor people.

Henry continues where Walter left off, defending tax evasion. He suggests that businesses are in the right to evade taxes, because the government is guilty of over-taxing them. (By the way, moving businesses abroad doesn’t just help evade taxes, it also often gives opportunities to pay workers less and exploit them more.) It is so ironic that Henry claims that taxes are resulting in his dad’s estate “struggling to make ends meet.” If you have an estate that you’re using to do business, you already have wayyy more than you need! You know who’s actually struggling to make end meet? The people receiving benefits.

I can understand why that’s the point when Simon laughs. Prompted by the teacher to share more, he points out that the very language used, tax evasion vs. welfare scam, is biased in favor of the rich. He points out the double standard whereby the poor are over-policed while the rich get away with cheating, harming, and breaking laws all the time (something that becomes a theme throughout the show, especially with August). To see who really “takes and gives nothing back,” check out this visual of the value of wage theft vs. burglary in the US. (And note that civil asset forfeiture, i.e. legal theft by police, also dwarfs burglary in the US.)

Simon mentions the deductions and subsidies provided by governments that value businesses over humans, and Henry gets rude and defensive. Henry doesn’t actually know how to defend his argument, which can’t stand up to Simon’s critique. And then Simon has his famous mic-drop moment: With a slight smirk and a side-eye towards Wille, he says, “Well, we all know who this country’s biggest welfare receivers are.” If I’m looking at it right, the Swedish government gives about SEK 143 million ($13.7 million USD) to the monarchy and all its trappings each year. This is less than many other European monarchies. Some might say that makes it ok. Why is the bar so low? Why do we excuse millions in public funds going to bankroll the extravagant lives of a family that already has millions in inherited wealth, when there are people who truly can’t make ends meet? Is the monarchy really “giving back” more than $13.7 million USD’s worth to the Swedish people? Is there really no better use of that money?

The most important point in Simon’s comment is the connection between the monarchy and the upper classes—especially the nobility. The positions of both the monarchy and the upper classes rest on no one questioning a system of inequality. All these rich people need us to accept that this is just the way things are: some people bask in riches while others starve; some people deserve millions in public funds, others are greedy for wanting more food stamps to feed their family.

Wille is a little stunned by Simon’s jab. We can tell, especially later at lunch, that Wille is intrigued by Simon’s bluntness, something Wille doesn’t experience in a lot of his interpersonal relationships. But he also appears to agree with Simon’s political point on some level. Remember that Wille has been attending public school so far in his life. I’m sure he’s familiar with the conservative talking points, but this class is probably the first time he’s heard them coming so strongly from his own classmates.

BONUS: Season 1, Episode 5: Presentation day

In episode 5, we get a scene of the same class, where the students appear to be doing group presentations on various topics of crime and punishment. If you’re busy pondering what happened to Alexander, you could easily miss the 10 seconds where Stella and Fredrika introduce their presentation. But these 10 seconds speak volumes. “Capital punishment,” says Fredrika, with a winning smile. Stella giggles as she says, “Yes, or no?” Fredrika confidently concludes: “We say yes.” Capital punishment, aka the death penalty, is when a government kills someone as punishment for a crime. It’s the ultimate case of “it’s not ok for ordinary people to do it, but it’s totally ok for the people and institutions in power to do it.” I won’t go into how the US has used capital punishment in racist and ableist ways, or how many cases of suspected or confirmed wrongful execution there have been. I think the main point of this short scene is to show the casual ruthlessness of these two teen girls. Their wealth and privilege has so warped their thinking that they can promote state-sanctioned killing with a giggle. The lives of regular people are not real or substantial to them, and deep down they know that no one they care about would ever be at risk of being sentenced to such a punishment, no matter what they were guilty of. (By the way, capital punishment was abolished in Sweden in 1973.)

Looking at the two ethics class scenes, we see that Young Royals portrays the upper-class students as living inside a bubble of privilege that allows them to dehumanize regular people. This causes both moral rot and intellectual laziness. It also causes a kind of ridiculous immaturity that’s both a little bit funny and a little bit sad.

[loeyshandtattoo]

hindsight (chapter 1) | park chanyeol x reader

a/n: finally, i did some few alterations on how the first chapter would look like, i hope all the readers would be able to understand how my fictional mind is taking its place, but here you are! thanks for staying tuned for the publishing of the first chapter.

disclaimer: this is a work of fiction, everything that is mentioned does not depict facts.

warning: mention of cuss words

word count: 3.9k words

pictures are from pinterest**

THE SCHOOL uniform was being hung on the hook by the careful maids as my eyes were adjusting to my newly found consciousness. The school emblem is printed on the jacket, and the plaid skirt has a hem that ends on the knee. Then Anne entered the room with a smile. "Good morning, Young Miss," she said.

"Good morning, Anne, I replied.

Anne smiled dearly and opened the curtains, which allowed the rays of the sun to enter the room. Then the delightful Charity entered the room with an iPad in hand.

"Young Miss, I hope you had a wonderful night's rest. Here is your schedule for today, she says as she hands me the iPad. I rolled my eyes at the continuous scheduled activities. In the world of elite society, you must always make publicity, as we are prominent figures representing our heritage far from home.

Our Asian elite society has been the most refined selection of people in the east coast, specifically in Manhattan where most of the members of the high-class people are situated, as for my family who are one of the upper elites, we were expected to live in the most elegant way possible and that is how we managed to own an estate in Upper East Side of NYC, most aristocratic families also reside with us in this area, our noble families with what we say, ‘of blood’ reside in a foreign country for multiple of reasons, and that is first, to preserve the remaining Asian nobility from eradicated monarchial governments, our ancestors way back before, as monarchial form of government was being threatened and new forms were arising, their titles were being threatened and some people made violent attempts on ending the lives of the nobility, so that is how with all the money they had left, fled to America.

"I thought we had cleared out all the events for the rest of this month. Was it not possible to inform me there were some to follow?" I asked her as I palmed my forehead.

Charity remained silent, prompting me to apologize for my erratic behavior: "Char, I am sorry."

She sighed, "It’s alright, Young Miss. I understand the frustration." She completely assured me that my anger is valid. I felt embarrassment and decided to find purchase from the comfort of my comforter, and Anne immediately tapped on my shoulder as it was her time to make the bed, eliciting a growl as I sat up and grabbed my phone from the nightstand.

"Char. Do you mind giving me more details about this event I am going to?" I asked her. I glanced to see that she was ensuring that my uniform was clean and ironed well, as Mom is a bit strict about going outside with cloth wrinkles; she says that is very peasant style.

Charity opened her iPad as she assessed this later event: "The yangban association hosted a charity auction for children of orphanages all across South Korea, and as the lady of the Byun household who is about to debut anytime soon, you have to show that you are prepared." Charity explains as I step out of the comfortable bed. The lace nightgown, with its fabric that can be felt on my skin, Then I arranged the bed to not add more work for Anne and the rest of the maids.

Our family’s roots originate back in Korea, and after the Japanese seized our land, my great-grandfather had to take his family to America for safety as our titles were stripped from us together with the royal family. The title given to us from the Yangban was the highest ranking in the caste system of the Joseon dynasty. As we lost identification as members of the yangban, our family was referred to as refugees only and not those of respectable position, just like we once used to. However, as Asian monarchies started to falter in power, they also found refuge in America.

As part of the peace treaty that was signed by Japan with the U.S. after the war, as atonement for causing disruption, the noble clans that fled from Korea were given the right to reestablish their titles with the help of the surviving Royal family of Korea where they can be situated in the area of Manhattan, and they were the highest noble being looked up by all members of the elite society today as they are the major restorationist of our society—they all refer to this as the Day of Miracle, and just like those of European nobility structure and inspired from the Goryeo’s nobility structure as well, we were granted of Dukedom, Earldom, Viscounty and Baron, and the Byun family was entitled to Dukedom to my grandfather and passed down to my father, and will be in turn passed down to my brother, Baekhyun. The secret royal family back at that time in the reestablishment of our titles, they chose 9 most trustworthy men to look over to the major provinces of the country and that is how my father, Byun Min became the duke of South Jeolla province, and the surviving members of the yangban most especially military leaders were granted Earldoms and Barons, and while the remaining Joseon intellectuals who were not granted Dukedoms were given the Viscounty title, with that formed the House of Yangban comprising of Korea’s nobility, and they are given the authority as condition of the U.S. for aiding Korea back in the Korean War to authorize the nobility to be involved in the political affairs with the connections from the secret royal family.

"School day, first period, you have Algebra that will be taken up for the rest of the morning and Literature after lunch; afterwards, you have to meet your instructor as it is a Monday; and then, once you are home, you will meet up with Haley for your hair and makeup for this evening’s event."

What an eventful day!

My friend, Angel, also said that her family would show up at the Masquerade charity event later that evening. Although Angel’s family is not part of yangban and is one of the lower elites of Elite High Society, through her mother’s connections with the head of yangban, their family was invited to this high-class event.

The elite high society held a caste system that the Yi Clan created, which was the upper elite, mainly aristocrats, as they were the real purpose for the establishment of the society. The rest are called the lower elites, which follow the class of businessowners filled with Asian billionaires and millionaires, but as far as I am concerned, they also have their own ranking system, and lastly, the most recent addition to the lower elite society are Asian celebrities; they formally decided to add celebrities as they are important for publicity.

Angel was part of the businessowner class, and their father is a well-known billionaire.

Hearing from my friend Angel that she would also be attending the charity event had me at peace because sometimes I hate showing up to these kinds of functions, and they do bore me every single damn time.

Once we were fully settled into the class, Sir Hwang finally entered the room and now introduced the topic, the objectives, and the date of the quiz.

After class, Angel and I exited the room as I noticed the familiar figure lurking around the hallways of the school. "Hey, sis. This evening’s charity event—are you going to attend?" He asked.

"Yeah, and what about it?" I asked while reorganizing my textbooks inside the locker.

Baekhyun pleaded, "Can you tell Mom and Dad that I can’t come over for the auction event later? Hearing this, I slammed my notebook against the expanse of his chest. "Hey! You need to be there. I don’t want you to get scolded by Dad for saying that you are irresponsible, and all those things that he is saying about you hurt my feelings, I whined at him.

"You really, for sure, don’t want me to get scolded?" Baekhyun quirked a brow. I chuckled and pleaded with him to go, but he said about bringing his best friend, which is going to throw Dad off again.

Well, my brother’s best friend belongs to the businessowners class, which makes my dad bitter about his son hanging out with boys with no certain future at all, which is what aristocrats think of businessowners. My dad thinks that Elite high society should only be limited to those of aristocrats and not people with no class despite owning a very large amount of money. "You should really stop hanging out with that dude, honestly," I advised him.

With the ongoing caste system that has created division and inequality among the elites, this has led to reforms among the children of lower and upper elites. People of upper elites are for people of upper elites in different engagements, and most especially marriage, the head of yangban strictly wants to impose the idea that to show gratitude to the secret royal family, we must keep our blood blue. That is why all children of upper elites also have after-school classes in the afternoon to teach us the way of the yangban and the morals.

But as our elite society struggles to modernize, some of the aristocrats break the normality and stereotype of not mingling with other people, but the majority, with their moral views and principles, regard this as a preposterous act of gratitude. What happened to the famous Confucian moral of karma?

Baekhyun sighed, C'mon, Cali, don’t be like Dad as well; we should stick up for each other."

"Sure thing, and yet here you are telling me earlier about your plans to ditch me." Baekhyun laughed and replied, "Fine. I will be there with Chanyeol." I simply sighed as I made my way to the lounge to eat lunch with Angel.

The white gown paired with a feathery white mask was the outfit that my mom had planned out for me. She shared with me her thoughts about how I look clean and innocent in white. The stylists then went inside my room and smiled. "This is the third time this month, Young Miss." I chuckled at her comment.

"Look forward to more. The debutante season is fast approaching." I added further and grinned at Haley. Then my mom entered the room and greeted Haley, saying, "Haley, about Calista’s makeup. Please make her look innocent, and for the hair, I want it loose with soft curls. For the accessories, let Cali choose." Mother spoke softly to Haley and the rest of the stylists.

After she was done discussing the details, she looked at me through the mirror and held my shoulder, saying, "Dearest, I’ll leave you for a while. See you later, beautiful." She kissed my cheeks and went straight for the door to exit my room.

Haley was amazing as she handled the styling process, and now it's as if mom’s desires were printed onto my face. I loved the look and thanked Haley for an amazing job.

Anne then entered the room and complimented, "You look beautiful, Young Miss." She spoke with a grin. Then the maids began unzipping the fabric of the ggown,and since I already wore the underdress while my makeup was being prepared, I searched through the drawers of the display table in the middle of the closet, where rows of jewelry were placed. Once I was ready for the event, I sprayed my favorite Jo Malone perfume.

Baekhyun later informed me that he won’t hitch a ride with us and is going to drive with Chanyeol to the event. "When will that boy straighten up?" Dad expressed his frustration about Baekhyun. He was his heir, after all.

"Min, let the boy savor the last moments of his high school." My mom ensures that Baekhyun will straighten up at the right time. "Bit-na, that boy in the next two months will graduate and choose Harvard, Yale, or Stanford. Oxford, Cambridge, and the rest of the good schools of his choice. When in his dictionary will he understand the definition of professionalism? Now that I know that the only heir of Park Enterprise is part of his circle!" Dad expressed his madness. My dad is a bit of an egoistic man; well, owning such a company and earning his pride with it made him be like this. Back when I was still in my toddler years, I remember that he was still like Baekhyun—more of a goof ball and a laughing festive in the room—and the monthly visits to grand-pabi except when he died when I reached the glorious age of fifteen, and now all the matters are left in his hands.

But Mom was still the regular Mom; she was caring but demanding; she was softspoken but insulting; she was kind but sometimes looked down at me with disdain. Imagine doing that to your only daughter. My thoughts stopped flowing when she calmed Dad with a chuckle: "Aigoo Min, admit it; that was the only way that I got attracted to you. Baekhyun with that attitude will find himself a beautiful lady soon." She assured dad there was nothing wrong at all.

The Met was still the same since the time that mother hosted that party; the Met is a regular setting that almost all the Yangban use for functions like this and other aristocratic houses.

My eyes searched for Angel, and she was nowhere to be found. I sighed and chose to isolate myself in a nearby garden and perhaps wait there for a moment while her family arrived at the event. However, my desires for isolation were cut short when Mom pulled me to a group of ladies conversing on the side.

"There you are, Cali!" Mom greets, and I notice that she is not alone and is accompanied by a group of ladies that look familiar. Ah, those were the madhatters that Angel and I used to call. They sort of know by heart and by mouth the living conditions of the elite society from manners, but not from control of the mouth. Put them together in a room and make a mess, and you won’t be sleeping comfortably during the night for the next few months considering their chatter that can potentially destroy someone.

For all I know, they are the ones spreading gossip around the upper elite.

Lady Hee looked absolutely dashing with her baby blue mask designed with gold sparks all over it, saying, "I have the best venue in mind for your eighteenth birthday, which also reminds me that it marks your debut to high society!—and they’re also the traditional females. Since most of them are members of the Yangban Association,  they are pretty meticulous, especially when representatives like us from the Yangban House are concerned.

Lady Hee announced, "In Lake Como, my dearest."

This had rendered me silent. "In Italy, your ladyship?" I asked her politely as Mom was observing us.

She nodded with excitement and said, "You will appreciate how fine that place would be, Calista." She advised me to choose that place instead.

"I’m afraid your ladyship has gone over the top, I replied.

"Byun Calista." My mom scolded me.

I held it in instead and replied, "On second thought, Lake Como would be fine. My apologies for answering in a bad tone when you’re doing us a favor."

Then I saw Angel's family arrive. "How about we discuss my debut plans further next time when my mom has finally reserved Lake Como? I smiled—and that was the fakest smile I can pull. "Excuse me, ladies." I bid and finally sighed in relief that I got out of it; it was a hassle communicating with those kinds of people. They are too close-minded.

"I saw you back there with the madhatters chattering away with your mom. Are you alright?" Angel asked. I nodded. "It looks like I am celebrating my debut in Italy."

She laughed. "Do you think they are pulling a secret plan to embarrass you, Cali?"

I groaned and rolled my eyes. "Feels more like it, Angel. I just want to celebrate my birthday by just going on a shopping spree in the Upper East Side and hiding away in South France, I ranted.

Angel examined my white gown and the white mask. "Not to mention you look so beautiful and divine today, Cali!" She complimented. I chuckled, "Yes, Angel. You look stunning tonight as well, I assured her, which elicited a laugh from Angel.

"Angel, we are leaving! She exclaimed. But she only got here!

She added, "If not for your mother, Calista, you two would still be conversing happily." She spoke.

I sighed. "What did my mother do again, auntie?" I queried. Angel also conditioned her mother by asking a few questions here and there, and she assured her daughter that she was alright and fine, but she explained how my mother and the rest of the madhatters only invited her to be their source of comedic outbursts at the party. I groaned in frustration at how much my mother and the rest of the aristocratic ladies are supposed to be acting within their morals, and yet here they are insulting Angel’s mother.

"I apologize on her behalf; I’ll make sure that she won’t do it next time." Angel’s mother smiled, which prompted Angel to also bid her goodbyes. "See you at school tomorrow, alright?" She said, and I nodded, and we both hugged before she left.

The idea of isolation came back to mind, and thus I made my way through the garden to at least put every noise inside behind me and think straight. I pulled a dime from my clutch and exclaimed, "Ugh. I hate it here." I exclaimed with an annoyed tone and tossed the coin to the fountain as it made a blobbing noise.

"Same with you." A masculine tone disrupted my moment and I faced a man with a black mask wearing a tuxedo with a matching bowtie. His hair was styled, his lips were a bit glossy, and he had dark chocolate orbs. "At least I am not the only one feeling the same thing, I replied as I searched through my clutch again, not minding about this man in front of me.

After finding another dime that I found in my bag, I handed it to him, and he broke into a smile on his face.

"A dime?" He asked with a curious tone. He was not thinking clearly at all. Well,  I would not be thinking the same way if he were in my position.

My eyes darted to him. "Toss it; don’t keep it." I scoffed.

"You know these don’t actually work, he said, and I glanced at him.

"Still. Does it still matter when these wishes come true?"

"No matter how much you wish, in the end you would somehow end up regretting it. So, I don’t expect, and I don’t have a piggy bank either." I explained to him, and he ended up laughing at my reasoning.

But he still tossed the coin into the fountain, and silence remained, as if he were making a wish. Even though I don’t believe in these wishing fountains and all, I hope whatever this man is wishing doesn’t come true.

"Have I seen you somewhere?" He asked.

I smirked and answered, "Is this not the whole point of masquerade?"

"I did not agree on the fact that it would hinder me from seeing your beauty, he replied.

He is flirting with me! Such a creep! I was stabilizing myself in case this man is a stalker or someone who can be potentially dangerous. "Stop with the flirting." I warned him and was ready to walk away, but when I heard his voice, I stopped any further movement.

"Too bad a Duke must find himself a wife." I was surprised by what he said, which made me scoff, and I made a vomiting sound just to freak him out, perhaps.

"I’m sorry, Sir. I think you have mistaken me for some prostitute, but just so you know I am not, don’t pick me up as if I am some desperate woman, and has it not occurred to you that children of aristocrats are betrothed? We can’t pick who we exactly want to marry."

He laughed. "Okay, chill, woman. I’ll make sure that you won’t happen to be engaged to me."

I rolled my eyes and said, "Go ahead, and I’ll make sure of that." I spoke and strutted my way out of the garden. I was exhausted from bickering and the madhatters as well, and I wanted to go back home.

At least I know someone.

"Going once, going twice... Sold to His grace, Duke of South Jeolla, he announced.

Then I saw Baekhyun clapping happily like a seal, and then I strutted towards him and recognized that I was walking towards him. Hey, sis, you look beautiful." He smiled as he eyed me from head to toe.

"Ew, Stop it. Take me home." I commanded him to. His brows furrowed again. "Don’t you dare fucking ask." I pointed a finger at him. He placed down his glass of whisky and said, "You’re perfectly able to drive?" I made sure to condition him first. He nodded, smiled at me, and grabbed the bunch of keys with that clinking sound. "Let’s go, sis." I guess he was also eager to leave; at least I am not alone.

I went to my mom and told her that I wanted to go home and had studying as an excuse.

"Okay, dear. Be careful on your way home." She kissed my cheeks and had to bid farewell to my dad as well. Since I would only be stuck inside my room, barely make any movement, and sleep afterwards.

Then I rushed towards Baekhyun and said, "Let’s get out of this shithole."

-

Wow, this car runs so smoothly, and since when did dad gift you a Rolls-Royce Boat Tail? " I asked him, then he shook his head. "I wish," He chuckled, and then I was baffled.

"The fuck, whose car is this then?" I yelled at him. I’m too young to be accused of kidnapping!

"Chill. This is Chanyeol’s car! He exclaimed.

Flabbergasted, "The fuck, Baekhyun!" I yelled.

"Cali, we’re about to crash if you don’t stop yelling at me!" Baekhyun complained. I tried to calm myself down. I looked over to my window and then decided to remain silent instead and not speak of anything.

Baekhyun initiated another talk: "Is it me or you have some sort of distaste against my friend? I gazed at him and raised a brow. "You have eight friends. Be specific, I told him.

"Park Chanyeol in particular, he said. Oh, no. He was getting into that subject.

I decided to distract myself with my phone that was in my clutch. "Yeah, and what about him?" I asked him to try to act dumb.

Baekhyun spoke, "Don’t act all dumb, Calista. You have known him since when you were in fifth grade."

"I don’t want to talk about your best friend, Baek, I pleaded, yet he insisted as he rested his other arm from the steering wheel and his left hand manipulating the wheel, and I could see the gifted Rolex on his wrist.

"Byun Calista, you had a crush on Park Chanyeol. I knew about it ever since." Wow, imagine hearing it from him.

[bettathanyou]

Hii! Could I request a cedric × reader who is also the royal sorceress for another kingdom? Their royal family visit Enchancia and shes shocked when she sees cedric bcs theyre close childhood friends? Just hugs him infront of everyone. She's quite shy so they just spend their days locked up in his room doing magical stuff, except that time someone in the castle insults cedric and she defends him and that tips a confession scene? Plus points if both royal families are out there shipping them! Thankss!!

Omg thank you for the ask!! This is my first one and I feel so honored <3 I love writing Cedric angst so this feels like such a good treat :3 Also since there was no kingdom specified in the fic, I'm keeping it purposefully vague. I figure it would fit better in a y/n fic anyhow. anyways enjoy!!

An Old Friend, A New Lover

Fic request for @acupnoodle

"Are you excited, y/n? We haven't seen our friends in Enchancia for ages!"

Your queen gushed, smiling brightly in excitement. Beside her, the king was staring out of the carriage window soaking up the scenery, and the children next to you were both snoring softly in their seats. Personally, you were more excited to get out of the cramped carriage to stretch your legs.

"Yes, I'm very excited your majesty. The last time I was in Enchancia..." Your sentence hung in the air as distant memories shuffled across your mind; the song birds chirping when pulling an all nighter, reading in the Hexley Hall libraries until you passed out, hearing the seniors plan their yearly pranks on Royal Prep... you exhale slowly, feeling the nostalgia carve a hole into your heart. It felt like forever since you've seen your old magic academy, or any of the people in it.

Suddenly, a face pops up from the hazy mist of memories. A boy with bangs the color of moonlight, striking against his ebony hair.

Cedric.

You feel your heart cry out as his name settles on your tongue. You almost can't believe you've forgotten your own childhood best friend. Your mind reels as you try to claw your way through memories, latching on to the moments you two shared together.

Being painfully shy yourself, along with Cedric being an outcast of his own, you both quickly grew close. You both sat together in every class you shared, worked on projects together, and talked into the long hours of the night about every hope and dream a young sorcerer and sorceress could have. You feel yourself biting back a dopey smile thinking about it, however your burning cheeks give yourself away.

Lost in your reminiscing, a voice cuts through your concentration.

"Y/n?"

You startle at the mention of your name, staring at the queen with owlish eyes as she wears a bemused expression.

"Ah- I'm so sorry, I got lost in thought..." You mumbled shyly, your cheeks tingling from embarrassment.

"Well, I can see that... Care to share?" The queen quirks an eyebrow at you, grinning like a cat.

"Oh, well.... It's a bit of a long story." You chuckle self consciously, rubbing your thighs. You can feel the queens questioning gaze on you, and your anxiety begins to flare up.

"My dear, it's going to be an even longer trip!" The queen laughs, her eyes twinkling. You laugh politely, but still refuse to answer. Seeing you unconvinced, the queen presses you further.

"Tell me, before I swoon from boredom." The queen flutters her eyelids dramatically, fanning herself in jest.

You genuinely laugh this time, which leaves you feeling disarmed. Tentatively, you start to speak.

"Well... I... Had? Have? This friend..." You begin, your voice droning on as you edge closer to your destination.

Time Skip Time!~

The scene is now taking place around sunset. The queen wasn't joking about it being a long trip, lol.

"Announcing the visiting Royals from beyond the continent! We welcome you to Enchancia!" An older man with neatly combed grey hair, spectacles, and black coattails formally greets you all as you step outside of the royal carriage.

You deduce this man to be the castle steward, but can't put a name to the face. All you knew was he was supposed to have an outstanding reputation amongst his peers.

Standing behind the steward were the royal family of Enchancia. Your eyes widen as you take them all in. King Roland's eyes met yours and paid you a kind smile.

Feeling your skin crawl from eye contact, you quickly bow your head and shuffle to the side of the staircase to be out of the way. The two families begin to intermingle- the adults chattering away and the children begin to split off into groups to play.

Your eyes drink in the engagement from a safe distance, happy to be in your own bubble. In your peripheral vision, however, you see a blotch of purple catch your eye.

Turning to get a better look, you see a tall and lanky man appearing in his late thirties in a purple sorcerer's robe, standing idly by the Enchancia castle doors.

His posture was slightly hunched, with his hands tucked away behind his back. His prominent nose and high cheekbones gave him a naturally evoking look, and his cognac eyes drifted in a bored expression. Your eyes travelled upwards to his hair, silvery white bangs framed deliciously against ebony locs.

Dumbfounded, you feel the cogs in your brain short circuit as you realize who that man was. Blood rushed to your ears. You felt your heart catapult from the pit of your stomach right into your throat. You let out a choked noise, struggling to catch your breath. Almost as if being tugged by an invisible rope, you drag your feet along the polished stone of the castle stairs towards the sorcerer.

Cedric didn't notice you immediately, but halfway there he turns to meet your approach. The setting sun catches in his bright brown eyes, transforming them into the richest golden hue that any king would envy.

Taking the suns rays upon Cedric's face as a sign, you continue to put one foot in front of the other. The noise of the royals started to fade, and all that filled your senses was the man standing fixed in front of you.

Cedric, however, looked more and more unsettled as you closed the gap. His eyes betrayed a look of confusion, the once golden light in his eyes clouding over.

His expression made you pause. You feel the tunnel vision lift, and suddenly you're back in reality once again. Despite this, you find yourself still not backing away.

"...Cedric?" You push out, your voice wobbly from nerves.

Cedric blinked, an unreadable look blooming on his face. Your eyes bore into him, silently pleading for any sign of recognition. A beat of silence stretches for miles between you both.

Suddenly, his eyebrows shot up and a gasp left his lips. His gloved hand covers his mouth in shock. Backing away, Cedric leans against the archway of the castle.

"Y/N...? Y-you-..." Cedric's muffled voice stutters in disbelief, his eyes wide.

The wind rushes out of your lungs in sheer relief, and you almost collapse on the spot. Before you could register your own actions, you found yourself buried into purple silk and warm skin. Your arms squeezed Cedric close, inhaling his scent deeply. Burnt citrus, lavender, and the familiar saccharine smell of potion chemicals hits you hard.

You almost cry from happiness.

You slowly feel the man in your grasp shift his arms, and you start to pull away in fear of making him uncomfortable. You remember he wasn't keen on physical touch, at least back then.

"Stupid, you shouldn't hug people randomly!" You curse yourself, trying to ignore the pricks in your heart.

Before completely detaching yourself, however, you feel Cedric's arms pull you in again in a soft embrace. You feel his chest fall with a heavy sigh, his head dipping to rest on your cheek. His hands rest lightly on your back- just enough to be present, but still maintaining a respectful distance. Every inch his skin touched you felt like fire, and for a second you're convinced that this is what magic truly is.

"..You're really back, Y/N? This isn't a dream?" Cedric asks softly, pulling away slightly to look you in the eye. You almost whine in protest, not wanting to break any contact with the sorcerer. Before you could respond, however, King Roland's voice booms from across the entrance.

"Cedric, Y/N! I see you're catching up..." The royal glances between you and his friend, his eyes twinkling in a way you weren't sure you quite liked. You dip your head down bashfully, trying in vain to salvage your composure.

"Yes, it's been quite a long time..." Cedric mutters, a dark look shadowing his features.

"Well, why don't you show her around the castle? I'm sure she'd be interested in your workshop too! You both can practice for the magic show coming up, too." Roland nods in satisfaction, catching Cedric's eye and giving him a quick wink.

"R-Right! Excellent idea, sire. Y/N, would that be okay with you?" Cedric nervously glances over for your approval.

"Ah... I should ask before I go wandering off..." You bite your lip apologetically, your eyes begging for forgiveness from Cedric. You glance over at your king and queen and back to Cedric.

"Oh, of course. I'll wait here for you, then." Cedric gives you a smile, but the disappointment in his voice was poorly masked.

With a nod, you quickly go over to seek permission to be excused.

"Oh my, that's the Cedric you told me about?" The queen spoke in an excited hush, barely containing her giggles.

"Yes, it is." You answer, trying hard to maintain your cool.

"Well then, you shouldn't keep him waiting a second longer! Have fun." The royal gives you a knowing smile, and you flash her a bashful one in return.

Briskly returning to Cedric's side, you tell him you're free to go.

"Excellent. So, would you like the grand tour or shall we skip to the grand finale?" Cedric wiggles his eyebrows at you, his lips curling into a mischievous smile.

"You should know by now, patience is a virtue I've never had." You joke, earning a chuckle from Cedric.

"Of course, how could I forget?" Cedric says lightly, gazing down at you with a smile; however, it doesn't quite match his eyes. You feel as though he was talking to himself moreso to you. Even so, you laugh as you walk alongside him.

You both make your way to Cedric's tower, chatting along the way. Cedric is mostly doing the talking, but being a good listener was always your preferred role anyways. Just hearing his voice made your heart swell with joy. Before you both realized it, you were at Cedric's door.

"Y/N, this is where the magic happens." Cedric burst into a cheeky grin, and you groaned at his lame sorcerer joke.

"You really still say that, Cedric?" You feign annoyance, but secretly love the fact he referenced such an old inside joke between you.

Cedric tutted, cocking a brow. "Well, I thought it was funny. But I suppose everyone's a critic, hmm?" He sniffed, strutting past you to open the door. He tucked himself against the wall, beckoning for you to enter.

"Sorceress's first, Y/N." Cedric dipped his head respectfully.

"Always the gentleman, Ceddy." You coo, the nickname slipping out before you could stop it.

"Y-y-yes. Of course." Cedric coughed into his sleeve, the tips of his ears flushed pink.

You don't comment on Cedric's reaction, instead choosing to quietly tuck it away in the back of your mind.

Entering the workshop, your eyes scan the room. Trinkets, magical artifacts, bottles, potions, and other various magical supplies littered every free inch of counter space.

Cedric always had a haphazard way of organizing, and you couldn't help but smile at the familiar sight.

"Old habits die hard, I suppose..." You murmured, scanning the room once again.

"Did you say something, Y/N?" Cedric questioned, his frame popping up from beside you.

"Oh!" You startle, jumping from the sudden movement.

"Um, I said you have a lovely workshop." You flash Cedric a cheery smile, trying to mask your lie. Well, technically it's not a lie. Besides the questionable organization, there were plenty of things that caught your eye.

"Well, it took years and years of hard work to get it to where it is now." Cedric sighed, his eyes wandering the cramped shelves. You hummed in response, following his gaze across the various items he possessed.

"But, thank you. It's my pride and joy, Y/N. Anything you need, I'm sure I have it." Cedric puffs out his chest confidently.

"And you're welcome for as long as you'd like, of course." The sorcerer added, a nervous chuckle leaving his lips.

You give him a grateful smile, thanking him.

Both of you were starting to enjoy this trip already.

(Another Time Skip Because This Fic Is Getting Long Enough~)

"Cedric, where did you keep the mugwort tinctures again?" You called down from the stairs, rummaging once again through his herb storages.

"Top shelf, three drawers to the right!" Cedric answered, not sparing a glance from his bubbling beakers.

"It's not there, Cedric. I looked! There's only dried Mullein leaves." You yell, exasperation edging your voice.

"What? How... That's impossible!" Cedric scowled, rising from his seat. With a flick of his wand, the drawer magically opens and the contents gently levitate from the drawer.

With a twirl of the wrist, the dried leaves make their descent from the upper level of the workshop into Cedric's palm. After a minute of inspection, you hear him curse loudly.

"Damn it all, this has to be Cordelia's doing. I've told her multiple times to NOT. touch. My things! I have a process that must not be disturbed!" Cedric glowered at the leaves in his hand, his frustration building with each word.

Placing the Mullein in a heap on his desk, he runs his fingers through his hair as he sighs in resignation.

Seeing his upset state, you gingerly float down from the balcony to comfort your friend. You were shocked to find out that Cordelia and Cedric were still on speaking terms, but that question could be answered at a later time.

"I'm so sorry, Cedric. Is there any way we can get Mugwort from the castle gardens? I'll help you replace whatever Cordelia took." You offer gently, brushing your hand across the sorcerer's back in soothing motions.

"She didn't take them, Y/N. Surprising, I know." Cedric snorted in annoyance, rubbing his temples with his fingers.

Seeing your puzzled look, Cedric continues.

"Sometimes, when Cordy visits she insists on 'helping me' by 'reorganizing' all of my materials. Without permission, I might add!" Cedric crosses his arms, clenching his jaw.

"And she never listens to you when you ask her to stop?" Your question was more of a statement, given you remember her kleptomaniac nature.

Cedric nods silently in agreement, then draws out a long huff of air.

"I know what you're looking for is here, somewhere. She wouldn't steal such a frivolous ingredient. I just have to find it." Cedric's brow furrowed and his lips formed a tight line. He rose from his seat, holding his wand up in the air.

With a flourish of his hand, magical ingredients were flying to and fro in a crazed manner.

"Ah, Cedric...!" You cried out, ducking your head from the incoming projectiles.

"Don't worry, y/n! I'll have this sorted out in a jiffy!" Cedric drawled in a sing song voice.

"I don't doubt it...! But I'm going to take my chances in the garden. I don't have much time left to prepare for the show tonight!"

You spoke quickly, begging for Cedric's understanding in the matter.

"Well, if you insist, my dear! I'll fetch you when I've found the Mugwort!" Cedric shooed you off, fully concentrated on finding his missing ingredient.

Eager to leave, you rush down his tower steps and towards the royal courtyards.

Finally finding your way, you approach the well tended royal gardens of Enchancia. You notice this kingdom spared no expense at the various types of plants that grew here. With a satisfied hum, you expertly scan the ground for your prize.

After about 20 minutes, you're ready to just scrap your entire idea altogether. You sigh loudly once again, sitting on a plush carpet of grass and moss.

The serene sounds of the gardens slowly took the edge off, and with a cool head you decide to give it one last try. You push off your knees, ready to stand and try again. Before you could rise however, you hear giggling coming from your left.

"I know, right? I mean, really, if it weren't for his father being Goodwyn The Great he would never have been a royal sorcerer!" A servant girl chortles with her friend, their voices carrying through the breeze.

You duck below to your previous spot, hoping they didn't see you. You lean closer, trying to overhear their conversation. Were they seriously talking about Cedric?

"I think his sister should've been the royal sorcerer. Have you seen her magic? It's amazing!" The girl sighs dreamily, clutching her hands to her chest.

Your stomach sinks as your suspicion is confirmed. Your body refuses to move from your hiding place, despite your mind's anguished pleas. Anger begins to cloud your vision, and a faint ringing in your ears starts to grow louder by the second.

"Cedric the Great? I think he should just be called Cedric the Second Rate!"

The girls burst into uncontrollable laughter, their high pitched squeals igniting the burning hot anger within you.

Your mind flashes back to the brats at Hexley Hall, and everyone who would turn up their nose at Cedric. The name calling. The pranks. The snide remarks.

The nights where you had to drag Cedric out of bed because he wouldn't move otherwise, wishing he was dead.

You jump up from your hiding place, feeling the blood rush to your skin in a seething rage you haven't felt since those distant memories.

"How dare you both speak like that about Cedric!" You hissed, stomping over to the servant girls.

They turn to you, their mouths forming a shocked "o" in response, eyes bulging from fear. The girl who mocked Cedric a second earlier begins to stutter in response, but you won't allow her another word.

"Don't you dare try to speak now. I heard everything. Both of you are such wretched, awful creatures. The rats that scurry in the castle walls have better manners than both of you combined!"

The girls shrank into themselves, clutching each other's arms at your agitated state. Even though name calling would normally be beneath you, it felt good to give them a dose of their own medicine.

"Neither of you peasants know a word about the man you're talking about. You don't deserve to speak his name, much less mock it."

Your words wavered from your emotions, and your throat already felt hoarse from the foreign feeling of raising your voice. Yet, you found yourself completely unable to stop. It was like you were watching yourself from outside your body.

"Please... Miss Y/N, we were only joking! We didn't mean any harm, I promise!" The girl who called Cedric second rate piped up, her voice pleading for mercy.

"Yes, that's what they all say. It's all fun and games, a little tit for tat." Your hands shoot up in a dismissive wave, then ball up into fists at your side.

"But any good sorceress knows that words hold power."

You grab your wand from its resting place at your hip, it's familiar power singing a siren song to you.

The girls cried out in retaliation, cowering before you. Their piercing wails suddenly bring you back into your body, and you momentarily froze in place. After a beat of hesitation, you hear a voice call out to you.

"Y/N! Stop!"

You turn your head to the sound of your name, seeing purple satin and white hair billowing in the afternoon breeze. Cedric huffs breathlessly, his arms outstretched towards you.

"Cedric?" You echo, your arms falling limp to your side.

The girls scramble to their feet, taking advantage of the distraction. They turn to run, and in response your body twists to capture them. With your wand aimed straight for them, there was no escape. However, a pair of gloved hands capture your wrists in protest.

"Let them go, Y/N." Cedric spoke simply, but you knew he wasn't asking- he was telling you to.

Your eyes don't leave the servants bodies for a second as they run off and turn a corner, successfully escaping your wrath.

Begrudgingly lowering your arm, you avoid Cedric's piercing gaze. His hand still grasps your forearm, squeezing it tightly.

You both stand in silence, searching for the right thing to say. After a beat, Cedric speaks.

"So... It seems you got side tracked." Cedric prompted, his tone unreadable.

"Trust me, I did not intend for it to happen. I happened to overhear those witches cackling about you, and I couldn't just-"

Your words harshly are cut off by Cedric's pointer finger being brought up to your lips. You stare up at him, your anger resurfacing.

"I know. I saw- and heard- enough to piece together what happened." Cedric spoke softly, his eyes unable to fully meet yours.

"And you did nothing?"

You spat, your cheeks lighting up as your emotions rose up to the surface.

"I stopped you, didn't I?"

Cedric snapped back, his brows furrowed deeply in anger as his voice cut through the garden. Falling into silence, all you could do was stare at him as you fought tears that were already welling in your eyes.

"My god, Y/N... I'm not a child anymore. I don't need you harassing a couple servants over petty gossip." Cedric glowered at you, his grip on your forearm tightening even more.

"You're hurting me." You reply weakly, tugging against Cedric's hand.

"You could've hurt them, too." Cedric countered.

"I wasn't going to do anything! Just scare them off!" You protest weakly.

Cedric scoffed, but relented his grip. Slinking away from his tall form, you swat at your wet eyes.

"Well, you certainly did your job. We should go, before anyone else knows what happened." Cedric responded curtly, already turning away from you.

Not budging from your spot, you stare daggers into Cedric's back. Not sensing your presence, Cedric's head peeks over his shoulder.

"Are you coming?" Cedric eyes you wearily, holding his breath.

"How does it not anger you, what those girls said?" You asked, your voice breaking. You bite your lip to keep your chin from wobbling, but the tears from your eyes were now flowing rivers. Your feet were like anchors, holding you to the spot. You couldn't move until Cedric explained himself. However, before Cedric could reply, more words tumble from your lips.

"While you're... Right, we aren't children anymore-" you mumbled, your tongue becoming thick with emotion.

"-It's not as easy as you might think, ignoring those who tarnish the name of the person you loved since childhood."

Your confession felt like a heavy blanket, weighing down the atmosphere of the space around you. Your skin crawled with every second of silence.

Cedric's eyes swirled with complex emotions, slowly processing what you had said.

Exhaling a heavy sigh, Cedric returns to your side. Conjuring a tissue, he tenderly wipes your eyes. You silently beg him to say anything, anything to just break the tension already.

"Do you want to know a trick I learned from another dear friend of mine?" Cedric whispered, his face leaning in close to your own.

You gave a meager hum in response, your eyes locking with his own.

"The only people's opinions I need to care about are my own, and the people whom I love. Anything else is noise that can be drowned out." Cedric's hand moves to peel a stray lock of hair out of your face, gently tucking it behind your ear.

"I already know what those girls think. I don't care. And you certainly gave them a piece of your mind too." Cedric chuckled darkly, his eyes glinting in a way that made your reddened cheeks turn scarlet.

"So... Are we okay, then?" You murmur, anxiously bunching your skirts up in your hands.

"I'm afraid after this... I don't think it's best we remain friends." Cedric replied, his voice low and eyes downcast.

Your heart lept into your throat, and only a strangled noise escapes your lips. Your knees begin to feel weak, but before you could protest any further you find your lips fully occupied by Cedric's.

Your whole body stiffens, completely unaware of how to react. A million questions blitzed in the back of your mind, but slowly the feeling of Cedric's warm lips melted away any worries in that moment.

You closed your eyes gently, matching Cedric's pace of the kiss. Your hand snakes around his neck to bring him in closer, and in turn his hands rest in the small of your back to pull you flush into him. Your whole body hummed in satisfaction, and this moment felt like it was what you waited for your whole life.

After exchanging a few more lingering kisses, you both break apart for air.

Your skin is still buzzing from the kiss, and you cling to Cedric's robes for support.

"Wow... That was...!" You stutter, breathless.

"Magical?" Cedric grinned, taking your hand and rubbing your knuckles with the pad of his thumb.

You shake your head, a huge grin of your own on your face.

"Even better, I fear." You reply, nuzzling into his chest.

You both stand in each other's embrace, until the realization hits you that you both had a magic show that needed to be done and you still had no Mugwort.

"Cedric-! The magic show!" You cried, your eyes wide with worry.

"I did say I'd come fetch you when I found the Mugwort, didn't I?" Cedric smirked, digging into the sleeve of his robe for your missing ingredient.

"Haha! Cedric, you're simply the best." You hug him tightly, sighing in relief and love for the sorcerer.

"Ready to knock some royal socks off, then?" Cedric asked, his wand at the ready.

"With you by my side? Absolutely." You nod, pulling out your wand in turn.

"Then let's not keep them waiting, hmm?" Cedric offers you his hand, which you take graciously.

"Let's go!" You tug Cedric along, laughing. In this moment, it was just like you two were kids again.

Except this time, neither of you were going anywhere.

[polyamanga]

Combining these into one post! As always, thank you for the recs!! (Also thank you for the note about the Tenchi Ending trope--I'd seen that name and figured it got renamed, but wasn't sure!)

Jingai-san no Yome doesn't seem to have an official English translation for its manga (doesn't look like it has a completed fan translation either), but the anime seems to be on Crunchyroll in the US. It sounds like a cute easygoing slice-of-life series!

High schooler Tomari Hinowa is called to the principal's office one day to hear some shocking news: he's getting married! A mysterious fluffy creature called Kanenogi has chosen him as their wife, and despite Tomari's initial misgivings, he decides to accept. What follows are a series of delightful tales from this new couple's monstrous married life.

You spelled it Sekieri, did you mean Sekirei? I've seen that one floating around, but I never knew anything about the plot. It reminds me of Master of Martial Hearts, except also not at all lmao. Although they do have a similar boobs-forward look to them 🤔

The stage is set. The preparations are complete. A grand battle royale known as "The Sekirei Project" is about to take the streets of Shintou Teito by storm. For this event, the shadowy corporation known as MBI has developed 108 "Sekirei"—advanced humanoid beings with extraordinary combat skills. Set free into the city, these Sekirei must search for their "Ashikabi," masters who can unlock and control their fighting potential through kissing. Once all the Sekirei are paired, they must battle until one team emerges victorious and claims the enigmatic grand prize. Enter Minato Sahashi, a ronin whose life is as bleak as it gets. Weak-willed and unconfident by nature, his circumstances become even more hopeless when he fails his college entrance exams for the second time. However, when he encounters a Sekirei called Musubi, a bond sparks between them, and he finds himself becoming her Ashikabi. Although he begins to enjoy his life with Musubi and the other Sekirei he bonded with, he consequently finds himself increasingly embroiled in The Sekirei Project. If Minato wants to protect his newfound life, he will need to step up and participate in this demanding, high-stakes battle.

World's End Harem is another one I've seen people mention in poly circles (along with Arifureta lol), but I haven't gotten around to checking it out. The plot of WEH always made me kinda sad tbh! It felt a little cheat-y to me, even though I might be jumping to conclusions. (I recently got burned by trying out Lust Geass and finding its just a big NTR-fest so I'm probably biased lmaooo)

Diagnosed with multiple sclerosis, young researcher Reito Mizuhara is to be put into cryosleep until a cure can be found. Short on time, Reito decides to confess his pent-up feelings to his childhood crush Erisa Tachibana and bids farewell to his family and friends. As Reito goes to sleep and his consciousness begins to fade, Erisa barges into the room and declares that she will wait for him. Five years later, Reito wakes up to a post-apocalyptic world where 99.9% of the world's male population had been eradicated by the "Man-Killer Virus" four years prior. He is one of a handful of men who have become immune to this virus due to sclerosis treatment. Reito and the other four men are now invaluable assets to humankind and are expected to impregnate as many women as possible. Reito, however, is determined to find Erisa and refuses to make love with any other women. With temptations lurking around every corner, can he hold on to the woman of his dreams?

Arifureta, like I mentioned above, is one I've been meaning to look into. I heard that the light novel has a somewhat poly ending, but who knows if the manga/anime do the same!

Seventeen-year-old Hajime Nagumo is your average, everyday otaku. However, his simple life of pulling all-nighters and sleeping in school is suddenly turned upside down when he, along with the rest of his class, is summoned to a fantasy world! They're treated like heroes and tasked with the duty of saving the human race from utter extinction. But what should have been any otaku's wet dream quickly turns into Hajime's nightmare. While the rest of his class are blessed with godlike powers, Hajime's job, Synergist, only has a single transmutation skill. Ridiculed and bullied by his classmates for being weak, he soon finds himself in despair. Will he be able to survive in this dangerous world of monsters and demons with only a glorified blacksmith's level of strength?

Fujimura-kun Mates is an interesting title! Wondering if it's 'mates' as in 'friends' or as in 'mating'...lmao. I'm a fan of the character designs, based on the volume covers. They're simple but cute!

Fujimura is a loner delinquent at his school. Feared by his classmates since the first day of high school, he's had no friends and usually ditches class. But even his standoffish nature can't hold up when a class president with a few screws loose comes after him! And two more class presidents. They're a few cards short of a full deck too. (Actually, he's more like the tsukkomi in a world of boke.)

Overlord; I watched the first couple episodes of season 1. I only got far enough (as far as I remember) to see one of his love interests (Albedo is freaking EVERYWHERE lol!!) but it seems on brand for there to be at least a few!

Yggdrasil is a virtual reality game renowned for the freedom it offers its players. After a simple tutorial, players are left to explore the world and can customize anything and everything, from their classes to their weapons. However, in the year 2138, the game sees its final hours as its servers shut down at midnight. Momonga, a devoted player of Yggdrasil, decides to spend the game's last hours inside his guild, Ainz Ooal Gown. Strangely, at the stroke of midnight, the game does not log him out. Instead, Momonga finds himself transported to another world, one that is seemingly identical to that of Yggdrasil. Facing an already abnormal situation, he discovers that the NPCs have gained sentience. Trapped in his avatar's skeletal body and desperate to uncover the cause of his predicament and find other players like him, Momonga sets out to take control of the new world with the help of his loyal subjects.

As for The Rising of the Shield Hero, I've seen season 1 and half of season 2, but haven't read any of the light novels/manga. The anime didn't seem to be going in a poly direction (many girls were into him, but he definitely seemed to view them all as his daughters lmao), but I'm sure the light novel could have had PLENTY of time to get there. (That being said, for any that may want to check this series out, episode one features discussions of hypothetical sexual assault (nothing shown since it doesn't actually happen), and slavery is a reoccurring theme.)

Stories of old tell of four otherworldly heroes—wielding the sword, spear, bow, and shield—who defended the land from wave after wave of calamity. With the fate of the world in balance, the kingdom of Melromarc summons these legendary figures; in modern-day Japan, the call is answered, and the unwitting heroes are transported to this fantasy universe. Thrust into Melromarc and given the title of "Shield Hero," otaku Naofumi Iwatani is labeled the weakest due to his lack of offensive capability and apparent inexperience. When the heroes part ways to start their journeys, he only has one willing companion: the beautiful princess Malty Melromarc. However, she soon betrays him, steals all his money, and accuses him of taking advantage of her. For his alleged crimes, Naofumi is branded a criminal and made outcast of society. With hatred filling his heart, he sets out alone, vowing vengeance against those who wronged him.

[yonicfemcel]

Anunnaki Paedophilia Syndrome

by Amitakh Stanford

3rd February 2006

Paedophilia is on the increase - it is a very lucrative, huge, international industry. The Anunnaki push detrimental behavioural disorders upon the unsuspecting public. This has been done with alcohol, gambling, prostitution, pornography, drugs, slavery, cannibalism, human and animal sacrifices, wars, religions etc. The recent revival of paedophilia is also the brainchild of the ruling elite.

One might wonder why religions would be clumped into the category above. The Christian Bible is said to be the most widely distributed book in the world. Only the ruling elite has the ability to push such mass circulation of any literature.

The ruling elite often play a double game by being both the punisher and the promoter of certain acts for monetary gain, control and other purposes. That is, they sponsor and promote certain activities until there is a significant social demand for that activity. When the activity gets out of control and causes social problems, then the ruling elite steps in with legislation, enforcement and punishment to appear to be the good guys who are attempting to correct a wrong that just cropped up. All the while, the ruling elite were the culprits. This is akin to corrupt police investigating corruption.

Understanding paedophilia is difficult because many think that paedophiles chase after children only for sexual gratification, but that is not always the case. There are esoteric reasons that drive paedophiles, although very few of the perpetrators would be conscious of these.

Paedophilia is not a modern phenomenon - it has been around for thousands and thousands of years. In fact, in some cultures, it is quietly acknowledged as an acceptable practice even though it raises some eyebrows. This sickening behaviour flows through royal and common classes alike. Despite the differences in cultural and socio-economic situations, there is a common thread underlying such practices - paedophiles "rob" energy from young, vibrant children. All paedophiles are, in this sense, energy "vampires". Nearly all of the paedophiles are Anunnaki Remnants or they have succumbed to Anunnaki programming. In rare cases, the tendency towards paedophilia could be due to possession of the physical body by an Anunnaki consciousness.

Some ancient cultures believe that the "pure" energy from young children, especially virgins, can heal their maladies such as: tuberculosis, impotency, leprosy, ageing, and especially the sexually transmitted diseases of syphilis and gonorrhoea.

Often, children from poor families are sold or hired out to rich people to pay off debts. The pathetic children are then abused by wealthy paedophiles or sick and elderly ones that seek cures. Imagine what an impact this has on the victims! The Anunnaki do not care what impact their horrific, demonic, repulsive behaviour has upon their victims and their families.

Many people have disdained this behaviour for centuries, yet they have been powerless to stop it because the Anunnaki masters are active participants in it. Also, the topic is so shameful, unpleasant and painful that discussion of it is avoided if possible, especially by the families involved. Many children have been abducted or sold to cater to paedophiles.

Today, especially in third-world countries, child prostitution is on the increase. The internet is loaded with child pornography and sites that solicit child-adult sexual encounters. A lot of spam email deals with this topic and is deliberately forced upon people who use the internet. Some people are so addicted to pornography that even their work computers are loaded with it and it is freely circulated in some offices. In some cases, those who object to the circulation of pornography are being harassed by those who participate in it.

Paedophilia occurs in many settings where youths congregate, such as: schools, youth centres, churches and Sunday schools, scout groups, sports, camps, child nurseries etc. It also occurs very close to home, with incest being rampant in some cultures. In extreme cases, old men choose pre-teenage, virgin females for wives, using the façade of legality and custom to support their energy "vampirism".

Paedophilia is an important tool used by the Anunnaki in their conquests of various races, planets and solar systems. The Anunnaki are "instinctively" inclined towards paedophilia, that is to say, they are genetically programmed towards that behaviour. Anunnaki military forces are motivated to conquer new worlds because of the incentive of being rewarded with free access to young virgins that they conquer. Anunnaki are notorious for boasting amongst themselves about the number of young children they have molested or raped.

Most paedophiles are male due to Anunnaki male chauvinism. However, there are exceptions. Some paedophiles are females, and females are often used to solicit and cover up for male paedophiles. Generally, paedophiles prefer to prey upon victims of the same sex. That is, they prefer either young boys or young girls. However, there are also some indiscriminate predators.

Some police forces actively use young children who have previously been molested to act as bait to snare other paedophiles. After the children are abused by those they solicited, the police make arrests and the prosecutors obtain convictions. These children are almost invariably from very poor families and are often willing participants in exchange for food, alcohol and drugs.

Not surprisingly, paedophilia is present amongst the leaders of religions. Eastern gurus have been known to be involved. Some of these have consciously been aware that they are stealing energy from the victims. These know they are energy "vampires". Islam, Judaism, Christianity and other religions have the same problem amongst some of their religious leaders and representatives. However, due to the nature of their religious influence, they are less likely to be consciously aware that they are energy "vampires". To outsiders, these religious leaders and representatives are seen as people with deviant sexual behaviour, which suits the ruling elite.

Many times, when religious figures are found out as paedophiles, their superiors hush up the crimes and allow further attacks on unsuspecting victims in the same location or elsewhere. This is predictable because all the major religions are sponsored by the Anunnaki.

Esoterically, the life force is usually at its fullest and "purest" state in children. Young children, especially in their growing stages, carry with them certain aspects of energy that can strengthen sexual and mental powers. This makes young children the ideal targets of the criminals, who are "instinctively" drawn to their victims.

Paedophilia is not confined to the physical world. It also occurs in the astral world, which is also controlled by the Anunnaki. In the astral world, paedophilia usually occurs as thought forms. These thought forms are also projected into the physical world to influence the unsuspecting inhabitants of the world. In the astral world, the "vampiric" paedophiles derive pleasure in watching the acts of paedophilia in the physical. In this sense, they are truly voyeurs. Apart from the vicarious pleasure they derive from watching other paedophiles' activities in the physical, they also steal some of the energy directly from the victims in the physical. So, energy is being stolen from the victims by physical "vampires" and astral "vampires" simultaneously. Further, the excitement from the experience also releases abundant energy from the physical paedophile, which is picked up by the astral paedophile. Thus, the astral paedophile gets a larger share of the energy from the acts.

The paedophile culprits from the astral world are usually from the lower astral realms. With the breakdown of the astral world, these lower beings now have more ready access to the physical world.

When an astral paedophile cannot use thought forms to produce an actual, physical encounter, they can use the thought forms to directly influence people in the physical world to be drawn towards the behaviour in more passive ways, such as viewing pornography, which gives gratification to the astral paedophile as well as providing them with extra energy.

In the physical world, people can go through most of their lives until the tendency towards paedophilia suddenly blossoms. This is usually due to the influence from the astral or programming by unseen Anunnaki forces. It can also be due to possession or subtle programming by physical agents in the world.

Paedophiles derive a "kick" from their episodes. This is somewhat analogous to taking drugs for a high.

There are many legends about vampires who drink physical, human blood. Some people have proudly declared themselves to be vampires. Paedophiles "drink" the etheric blood of their victims. In severe cases, paedophiles can develop a thirst for physical blood. There are many cultures that believe in drinking blood to keep them warm in winter and to boost their strength, power and longevity. This is just one step away from eating human flesh, which is another demonic Anunnaki trait.

Aliens in their alien bodies have been consuming human flesh and blood for a long, long time. It is no wonder that the Eucharist ritual in holy communion symbolically requires the participants to drink the blood of Jesus and to eat his flesh. Jesus NEVER said this is my body or that this is my blood and to consume them in remembrance of him. This is an Anunnaki invention to programme the mindsets of believers and to make a mockery of Jesus.

In this world of exploitations within exploitations, young children are subjected to exploitation by paedophiles, who can often be family members or friends. Ironically, sometimes children who have NOT been abused exploit others by falsely accusing them of paedophilia. Sometimes the false accusations come from the children and other times the children are coached by their parents or others into making false accusations for monetary gain, revenge or other reasons.

Nowadays, the public is quick to respond to accusations of paedophilia, whether the accusations are true or false. An example of this involved the Branch Davidians who were stormed and burned to death in Waco, Texas. Police and military forces had surrounded the Branch Davidians and laid siege to their compound for many weeks. To speed matters up, the police and military were bombarded with programming to drive them into a frenzy for the blood of the Branch Davidians. In order to draw the public into the frenzy to support the storming of the compound by the authorities, stories were broadcast about how children were being molested in the compound. This caused the public to panic and absurdly condone the murders of the children in order to "protect" them from supposed molestation.

There are many who claim that they would have loved to have walked with Jesus. The programming directed at the mobs in the time of Jesus was far more intense than the programming used at Waco, Texas. Even with the lessened programming at Waco, the vast majority of the people condoned the murders of the men, women and children in the compound.

In the case of the murder of Jesus, first the rabbis were programmed to hate him. Next, the rabbis were programmed to stir the Romans into action. Finally, the programming was used on the "rent-a-crowd", which called for Jesus' blood. For those who claim they would love to have walked with Jesus, would they have been able to resist the programming, or would they have stained their hands with his blood? Sadly, most would have joined the frenzy and become a part of the murder of Jesus.

Jesus is claimed to have said, "Father, forgive them; for they know not what they do," while he was dying on the cross. This is a false insertion into the Bible by the Anunnaki-sponsored church to suit its own nefarious purposes.

Programming in this world is no joke. Nobody is free from it. Even the food eaten and the air breathed are loaded with "natural" programming that adversely affects people physically, emotionally, mentally and spiritually. That is why this Virtual Reality that is loaded with apparent and non-apparent programming has to be dismantled.

[fransibanez]

A Marxism Analysis of the film "Cinderella"

Marxism is a theory of aesthetics derived from the theories of Karl Marx. It is a historical theory and philosophical worldview that seeks to go beyond the contemplative stance of prior philosophies and offer the intellectual means for humanity's emancipation from repressive social and political formations.

Cinderella tells the tale of a young woman with a heart of gold named Cinderella, whose life turned upside down when her cherished mother passes away and her bereaved father remarries another lady, the evil widow Lady Tremaine, the intolerable mother of vengeful and envious Anastasia and Drizella. As a result, things get progressively worse, and soon Cinderella is at the Lady's mercy. Cinderella is now destined to serve the Queen forever, and has no hope of attending the King's royal ball. Naturally, trying to entice the charming Prince is impossible but with the help of her little friends and a hint of magic, Cinderella gets ready as her world is about to turn upside down once more.

All of the characters in the film contribute to their Marxist society, even though Cinderella is the main character. Marxism's significance in the movie helps the characters become conscious of their social class and other struggles. The opulent palace where the royal family resides is first glimpsed in Cinderella's opening scene. Then, the camera pans over to the modest, dilapidated houses in the working-class neighborhood. The director makes it a point to demonstrate the relevance that class connection has in the film right off the beginning by showcasing this comparison of the two neighborhood.

The realistic adaption of what’s been going on in our society through this animated film is splendid, knowing this dates back to 1950s. This goes to show that the evident gap between every social and socio-economic status has long been existing. Cinderella in the lens of Marxism was able to successfully incorporate social issues in the whole film, making it as realistic as possible. Though animated, the viewers can relate to the story because every character is laid out connected to one another and not just focused on the individual or main characters. The movie shows how ones actions affects every other person in it’s circle and how as a whole we impact each other’s lives. It is however important to note that false consciousness and hopes aren’t something we should let our selves believe in. Although to dream and hope of a better tomorrow is normal, deluding ourselves into something superficial however isn’t.

“Cinderella believed in dreams, all right, but she also believed in doing something about them. When Prince Charming didn’t come along, she went over the palace and got him.” -Walt Disney

This is a group activity. Together with me are Kayle Marie Española and Melissa Libiano. Watch our full movie analysis of this short film below. 👇

[kaylemarieespanola]

Marxism

Introduction

According to Marxist theory, there is a conflict between the needs of social reproduction and those of capitalist accumulation. Profit accumulation necessitates the transfer of some expenses to groups of people, future generations, and specific locations outside the scope of capitalism's economic accounting.

Summary/Description of the artwork

The classic fairy tale of Cinderella clearly demonstrates the critical theory of Marxism. Through this young reader's tale, Karl Marx attempts to convey the idea of crony capitalism. According to Marc Smith's understanding of Marxism, the premise that the affluent get to stay rich if the poor stay poor is symbolic to the story. This fairy tale clearly has a conflict between upper and lower socioeconomic classes. Because Cinderella is poor and has a difficult connection with her stepmother, capitalism plays a significant role in their interaction.

Analysis

Marxism, which was derived from the ideas of Karl Marx in the 19th century, is a philosophical and practical framework for examining and altering society. In media studies, it can be found in a variety of ways, such as a methodical analysis of capitalist media economies and societies, a materialist approach to media objects and processes, and a source of activist aesthetics. Thus, it offers real-world examples such as the analysis of commercial media markets, state institutions and policies governing communication, critiques of the ideological intent and impact of movies, television, and new media, arguments for political activist art and communication, and socially motivated aesthetic criticism of particular works.

A Marxist film must function as the narrative or visual antithesis of Classical Hollywood cinema. It must promote the group over the individual and it emphasizes the fight between classes in order to increase class awareness. A capitalistic society equates economic status in a Marxist view and the story of Cinderella by Charles Perrault highlights a number of these views. It covered the class conflict, the relationship between class and status, and false consciousness in the film.

Cinderella tells the tale of a young woman with a heart of gold named Cinderella, whose life turned upside down when her cherished mother passes away and her bereaved father remarries another lady, the evil widow Lady Tremaine, the intolerable mother of vengeful and envious Anastasia and Drizella. As a result, things get progressively worse, and soon Cinderella is at the Lady's mercy. Cinderella is now destined to serve the Queen forever, and has no hope of attending the King's royal ball. Naturally, trying to entice the charming Prince is impossible but with the help of her little friends and a hint of magic, Cinderella gets ready as her world is about to turn upside down once more.

All of the characters in the film contribute to their Marxist society, even though Cinderella is the main character. Marxism's significance in the movie helps the characters become conscious of their social class and other struggles. The opulent palace where the royal family resides is first glimpsed in Cinderella's opening scene. Then, the camera pans over to the modest, dilapidated houses in the working-class neighborhood. The director makes it a point to demonstrate the relevance that class connection has in the film right off the beginning by showcasing this comparison of the two neighborhood.

A person's social class can be determined by observing a variety of indicators. These include the person's appearance, speech, diet or the food they eat, means of living, level of education, place of residence, and social circle. In the movie, the Marxist approach was evident in the socioeconomic status of different characters whereas they are divided into three, the low or poorest class, the middle class, and the high class or wealthy living class.

Cinderella resides in the portion of a wood-framed house. In her stepmother's household, she cleans and takes care of all the domestic duties. She has a bland appearance because she is wearing an outdated maid dress and plain, simple shoes. She also depends on her stepfamily for her necessities and is unable to make decisions for herself. In addition, she receives poor and unfair treatment from her stepmother and stepsisters, who are middle-class, indicating her lowest socioeconomic level. She is experiencing different kind of struggles with the torture of oppression. They used their power to treat her cruelly and unfairly, which degraded her as a human being. Cinderella is a representation of poverty.

Cinderella's stepfamily, who live in a concrete home with exquisite amenities, is definitely a representation of the middle class. Their attire, which consists of lovely gowns and heels with makeup and jewelry, exudes elegance and sophistication. They don't face any financial difficulties because they can acquire anything they desire. They can also command individuals of low social standing, like Cinderella, to carry out work for them. They depict privileged individuals with access to all things, enjoying some unique privileges or advantages that most others do not.

The monarch exudes authority and strength throughout the movie, holding the entire realm. The King is one of the representatives who has power over the working class's lower socioeconomic beings. He utilized his power to incite everyone to become a member of their royal family while simultaneously providing them false hopes. His capacity to host a royal ball using his connections and resources demonstrates his position at the apex of the hierarchy.

However, despite the differences in their socio-economic status, the characters are still interrelated to each other in a way that for the poorer ones, including Cinderella, to afford food and other basic necessities, they have to work their selves and be deemed worthy of their needs. The same goes to the middle class, for them to maintain their status in the kingdom (society in general), they are willing to enslave others yet, they are still way farther compared to the royals. Lastly, the royals also do everything uphold their status and power by making themselves relevant at all times and in order to do that they have to constantly show their people interesting things happening in their lives either by throwing parties, celebrating a wedding, special balls, etc. In the actual world, the poor create and maintain society, not the elite. Therefore, without the poor, the privileged wouldn't have anything to be rich in.

The King's false hopes carry distortions that give rise to people's failure to identify injustice, oppression, and exploitation in a capitalist society that exists in their kingdom. The royal party is a way of brainwashing the individuals who are thirsty and hungry for the taste of eminent wealth and luxury. The delusional minds of the people hindrance themselves from understanding their true stand in the hierarchy. It gave them high hopes that someday their unfulfilled souls will live in abundance.

The realistic adaption of what’s been going on in our society through this animated film is splendid, knowing this dates back to 1950s. This goes to show that the evident gap between every social and socio-economic status has long been existing. Cinderella in the lens of Marxism was able to successfully incorporate social issues in the whole film, making it as realistic as possible. Though animated, the viewers can relate to the story because every character is laid out connected to one another and not just focused on the individual or main characters. The movie shows how ones actions affects every other person in it’s circle and how as a whole we impact each other’s lives. It is however important to note that false consciousness and hopes aren’t something we should let our selves believe in. Although to dream and hope of a better tomorrow is normal, deluding ourselves into something superficial however isn’t.

“Cinderella believed in dreams, all right, but she also believed in doing something about them. When Prince Charming didn’t come along, she went over the palace and got him.” -Walt Disney

Reflection

The film "Cinderella" depicted a capitalist society in which the lower, middle, and upper classes are all intertwined. The lower classes struggle to survive hard to rely on the upper classes' income, while the upper classes use their labor to support themselves. This society is divided by people who are either experiencing abundance or deprivation. People in times of scarcity put forth a lot of effort to make their employers wealthy rather than themselves. Those who are wealthy, however, have hired many of their labors in order to create income. Owners are viewed as a cost to be maximized in capitalism, but employees are viewed as a cost to be minimized. Capitalism ignores the demands of the people, which also results in wealth inequality and a lack of equitable opportunity. Capitalism is horrible.

[spyderfyngers]

Okay, so, class.

Hello, published historian here.

As much as I love the headcanon that maybe Izzy is nobility etc, I have bad news about the British class system pre-Industrial Revolution and even a century or more post-I.R.

Our Flag Means Death is of course a rubberband reality. But.

That boy’s highly likely going nowhere, my guys, he is vocally Liverpool-by-way-of-Wigan. He dresses functionally-but-smartly, but he curses, he spits, he’s comfortable walking alone in dangerous spaces and talking to the people who live there. He’s consciously coded as a skilled working class man. What that means in 1717 is… congratulations, you have one trade that’s been passed down to you and that’s your place, do not move, you do not pass Go.

Stede Bonnet? That’s the guy who can beat you to death with legal impunity. You probably brought it upon yourself.

Even a full century after Stede Bonnet’s reign of incompetency, a skilled and clever working class man could rise in the ranks of the British army - if he were an anomaly - but socially he would be shunned by his peers in rank. HARD.

A lot of young men fell into piracy the way most of us now fall into retail. We need money, it’s there.

So Izzy is a man who’s been born, grown up, and matured amongst people he knows with similar abilities and if he runs away before that (people rarely upped sticks with a full family pre-Industrial Revolution) he’d better have a marketable skill. A reliable way to learn or hone that skill? Boarding a ship as a child. And does that suck?

Oh boy, does it suck. We’re talking likely violent or contagious death, not to mention all the other things that can happen to unattended children. But at least you can learn. You can rise through the ranks. But society? Forget it, you dirty slag.

Because it gets worse! Stede fucking Bonnet, despite being the creme-de-la-creme of Barbados society, would have zero chance - I mean NONE - of being accepted in London by those he considered his equals. He was a dirty colonial, despite all his ruffles and marmalade and wealth, so imagine what Izzy had to look forward to. An unmarked pauper’s grave? Yeah. And space was at a premium, so as a working class person you could safely expect your bones to be turfed out into the river if someone else needed the plot. During a period when Resurrection was accepted doctrine, what this meant in spiritual terms was that poor people had no souls.

Have a go at tracing the grave of an ancestor from c.1700s Britain. Good luck.

So as much as it will be super cool to find out Izzy had a past in the Royal Navy etc etc - which would be super interesting and definitely plausible - it’s highly unlikely he’s anything other than bog standard working class. Maybe a working class boy who’s beaten the odds.

But if I were a young man in 1717 and a rich clueless dude boarded my ship with zero prior experience and wanted to take charge... I’d kill him.

I’d kill him so hard.

[unerebellelectrice]

Some people says that Simon falls first, but I don't think so. Let me explain :

Wille has been fascinated by Simon since the exact moment he saws him singing. Then, during the whole first episode, he feels an irrepressible attraction for him. He tries to speak with him, be close to him, and it's pretty obvious.

But Simon ? He had lots of prejudices about richs, royalty, and it really makes sense. He sees the prince beeing nice with him, treating him like anyone else, even if he's not a boarder. I think Simon is surprised, at first, and then he's happy of that. Perhaps he's (consciously or not) proud of Wilhelm's attentions and it's for him a kind of revenge against August, who bullies and puts him down because of his social class.

I think Simon really falls for Wilhelm at the end of the first episode, at the party. When Wille starts singing It takes a fool to remain sain.

This moment is really important and symbolic because :

- the prince escapes from his own party to be with Simon, even if he's not rich and noble, even if they're not supposed to be together, and to be friends even less.

- he sings the song Simon sang, and that means he paid attention to him, to the song, to the lyrics.

- these lyrics are very strong and meaningful : "it takes a fool to remain sain", "was'nt life supposed to be more than this", "give me the chance to break down the walls of attitude", "i ask nothing of you, not even your gratitude", "it's your right to laugh at me", "as it drench my fears of becoming like the others"... the whole song is perfect and means so much about Wille !

So i think it's at this exact moment than Simon fall in love and really understand how he's attracted by this boy.

And, really, the way to Simon's heart is music and song ! 🎶🎤

🎼🎵

I put here the lyrics of It takes a fool, even if it would deserve a deep analysis in the context of young royals. (THIS SONG IS SO FUCKING BEAUTIFUL !)

Whatever happened to the funky race

A generation lost in pace

Wasn’t life supposed to be more than this

In this kiss I’ll change your bore for my bliss

But let go of my hand and it will slip out

In the sand if you don’t give me the chance

To break down the walls of attitude

I ask nothing of you

Not even your gratitude

🎶

And if you think I’m corny

Then it will not make me sorry

It’s your right to laugh at me

And in turn, that’s my opportunity

To feel brave

🎶

Cause it takes a fool to remain sane

Oh, it takes a fool to remain sane

Oh, it takes a fool to remain sane

Oh, it takes a fool to remain sane

🎶

Every morning I would see her getting off the bus

The picture never drops it’s like a multicolored snapshot

Stuck in my brain it kept me sane

For a couple of years as it drenched my fears

Of becoming like the others

Who become unhappy mothers

And fathers of unhappy kids

And why is that

Cause they’ve forgotten how to play

Or maybe they’re afraid to feel ashamed

🎶

Cause it takes a fool to remain sane

Oh, it takes a fool to remain sane

Oh, it takes a fool to remain sane

Oh, it takes a fool to remain sane

🎶

To seem strange, to seem insane

To gain weight, to seem gay

I tell you this

Cause it takes a fool to remain sane

Oh, it takes a fool to remain sane

Oh, it takes a fool to remain sane

Oh, it takes a fool to remain sane

[azenkii]

A Long List of Trash Fire Lord Zuko Headcanons

...that i couldn't get out of my head:

(warning: SUPER LONG POST i havent figured out how to trim posts yet)

he's the one who unchains azula despite iroh's protests. she doesn't even try to fight him, just cries into his shoulder and keeps mumbling about how father's going to be so disappointed in her. he takes her to her rooms and has her drink a sleeping draught, then stations the best guards he has left outside her chambers.

his first council meeting takes place literally a day after sozin's comet. he hobbles into the council chamber shirtless with his entire torso covered in bandages and every council member just looks at him like '...what'

he does NOT sleep for like,,a week after sozin's comet and then another two weeks after his coronation. katara, aang and suki try to persuade him to sleep and he doesn't listen. eventually sokka, toph and mai team up to literally drag his ass to bed and tell him he's not allowed to get up until he sleeps (does mai pin him to the bed with her knives? yes. is it kinky or sexual in any way? definitely not.)

he drinks So. Much. Tea. at this point it's practically tasteless to him but he drinks it anyway because he just needs something to do and tea is something familiar. he keeps iroh on his toes because he's constantly asking for new tea blends, uncle, i think i actually tasted the last one,

he flat-out refuses to grow his hair for at least a year after ozai's defeat. the second it starts getting close to his chin he shears it off himself, with his knife, and his stylist has a heart attack every single time

when he's tired he'll occasionally jump up when one of his guards moves. it stops after a bit, but for the first month and a half or so he's really twitchy. when sokka asks, the only explanation he can come up with is that he's not used to having people stand behind him silently and not want to kill him, much less want to protect him (sokka immediately takes him out for a shopping trip and makes a point of walking behind him the entire time, but only on zuko's right side, where he can clearly see it if sokka moves towards him)

when the healer declares azula mentally unstable and in need of an institution, he shuts himself in his office for the rest of the night. no one's allowed in, not even iroh. he finally emerges in the morning, eyes red from crying and sleep deprivation, and tells the librarian that he'd like a list of the best mental institutions in the country, please, the best in the world if you can get them

he loves theatre (is this even a headcanon?). unfortunately it practically died out in the fire nation along with the rest of the creative arts, leaving nothing but small troupes like the ember island players. one of zuko's personal goals (meaning things he wants to accomplish that aren't as important as restoring his country) is to bring back theatre; he finally manages to do it after about eight months or so of being fire lord, along with other arts like dancing, music and sculpture

he establishes a national day of mourning, on the first day of autumn every year, to commemorate the genocide of the air nomads. from 100AG onwards, every calendar printed in the fire nation has it marked. at first it was called the day of repentance, but aang persuaded him to have it changed (by arguing that he didn't want guilt to be a literal staple of fire nation culture)

he introduces literally So Many educational reforms, plus a mandatory class that teaches students about the cultures of the other nations (air nomads included) and how some of their traditions overlap

he turns down the offer of having a statue put up of him in the capital. toph ignores him and does it anyway.

he visits azula regularly, makes sure she's (relatively) comfortable and well-fed, and sometimes just sits down outside her door and tells her about everything that's going on right now ('some of the far colonies have developed their own standardised writing, azula, you wouldn't believe it, and i've asked the fire sages to come visit more often—but you never liked them, did you? oh, well; i'll make sure none of them go into your chambers by mistake')

(he doesn't know it, but when he does this azula sits by the door and listens. she wonders what kind of writing the colonists have developed, and whether or not the fire sages have taken on some new recruits.)

he hates being above anyone else. never sits in the throne if he can help it, nor does he sit on the dais in the council room. when he talks to people shorter than him, he finds himself stooping a little bit to talk to them on their level (the exception to this rule is sokka, who he mocks for being shorter all the way up until sokka grows taller than him, the bastard)

the first time he visits the earth kingdom, the earth king's ministers call a toast. he ends up being the only one who has to sit out, because he's too young to drink by earth kingdom law

once his servants figure out he won't kill them for talking to him, they start becoming a lot more bold, telling him off when he doesn't take care of himself. at one point, they force him to let them take care of him so much that he literally just bolts into the gardens and hides there until the staff rope in mai and ty lee

when he needs to escape, he does one of two things: (a) he dresses up as the blue spirit and does some parkour until he calms down, or (b) he goes to work at the jasmine dragon. (b) happens less often bc the jasmine dragon's in ba sing se, but there's been a few memorable incidents when an earth kingdom diplomat walks in and yells, 'LEE?!' when they see the fire lord

the first court artist who draws him also happens to be the one who drew azulon and ozai. he draws zuko without his scar. zuko takes one look at it and tells him, very calmly, that he'd like him to leave, please.

zuko burns the portrait. he doesn't fire the court artist, but he never calls on him again unless he has to. a second court artist is called, and can't help but be a bit confused when the fire lord tells him to be sure to include the scar

he forgets the crown. a lot. sometimes he walks into council meetings in his sleepwear with his hair tied up in a messy ponytail and a bunch of scrolls tucked under his arm. none of his councilmen have the guts (or the heart) to tell him that this is not, in fact, formal council wear

he goes to feed the turtleducks when he's stressed. he thinks he's being subtle. he's not. the entire palace knows, and they consciously give him space when they see him in the turtleduck garden

most of his staff are older than him, so they look at him and see this teeny tiny fire lord who is So Small and who Must Be Protected. the day after zuko's coronation, the head chef holds a meeting where they commence Operation Do-Not-Let-That-Boy-Turn-Out-Like-His-Father (subsection He's-The-Only-Good-Thing-We-Have)

one night he wakes up to find suki sitting in his room, decked out in full kyoshi warrior garb and makeup, and just about screams blue murder. suki tells him there are suspicions of an assassin in the palace, and would you please stop yelling it's very distracting, we won't be able to hear anyone coming over that racket

zuko gets very, very paranoid of random spirits after that. yeah, suki looks like a possibly malevolent spirit when she's wearing her makeup, what about it? (when he tells sokka he's highkey terrified of spirit shenanigans, sokka just looks at him and says, 'man, the stories i could tell...', and THAT'S when zuko remembers sokka spent like six months more than he did travelling with the avatar)

on his first visit to the southern water tribe, he removes his boots and leg guards, rolls up his pants and kneels barefoot in the snow. even though chief hakoda immediately starts trying to pull him up, he's stubborn as hell and stays kneeling for the entirety of his very long, very sincere apology-on-behalf-of-the-fire-nation speech. he nearly loses his toes to frostbite after that, and both sokka and katara never stop giving him shit for it

the first time he grows a 'beard' is completely accidental. he's stressed over some trade miscommunications with chief hakoda, hasn't slept in a few days...and then when sokka arrives as water tribe ambassador to help smooth things over, he takes one look at zuko and says 'man, facial hair does not suit you'

zuko: facial what now

he checks a mirror to find that he's got stubble covering his chin, dark enough that it almost looks intentional, and holy gods how the fuck did he not notice this before

'UNCLE WHY DIDN'T YOU TELL ME' 'i assumed you were doing it on purpose' 'WHEN HAVE I EVER DONE ANYTHING ON PURPOSE'

he shaves it all off immediately, of course, which prompts a lot of teasing and rib-poking from sokka until zuko finally snaps that he's scared it'll make him look like his father. sokka stops after that.

(the day after sokka leaves, zuko finds that a mysterious someone has scribbled all over ozai's royal portrait, giving him a frankly ridiculous beard and moustache that literally CANNOT be grown in real life. oddly enough, he can't bring himself to care about the defamation of royal property. he's too busy laughing.)

his paths cross with toph and sokka more than any of the others, because sokka is ambassador and toph is technically still a beifong. most of the time, at formal functions, he ends up sequestered in the corner with toph and a hoard of snacks, and they talk and swear much more than they usually do (zuko's ministers once heard him when he was drunk with toph, and the servants swear the older ministers' ears started bleeding)

he restores fire nation cultural festivals, and in doing so subjects himself to learning a lot of complicated dances

during one memorable week, he wrote so many letters and drafted so much legislation that he ran out of paper. he had to go visit the nearest school and ask for some

he keeps up with his firebending and sword training even though it's hard to fit into his schedule. his ministers refrain from reminding him that he has guards to protect him now; it's still hard for zuko to trust his safety with anyone but himself (team avatar is the exception).

he started sleepwalking about two months into his reign. no one knew why. one time, he nearly sleepwalked right off the edge of a balcony, and one of his guards had to grab him by the back of his robes.

the sleepwalking stopped after around a month and never happened again. at this point it's practically palace legend.

after freeing the war prisoners, he went around collecting every single earthbender-proof wooden cell he could find in the capital and surrounding areas. when he'd gotten most of them, he gathered them into a huge pile in the city square and set fire to them with his own hands.

unfortunately he couldn't do that with the waterbender metal cells but he did get toph to come in and bend them all into pretty shapes (well, toph thought they were pretty shapes. everyone else thinks they're meaningless squiggles)

he learned how to write with both hands at the same time out of sheer necessity (he refused scribes until it became clear that he'd be putting some people out of a job; that was when he started letting scribes write very, very minor things, but all important documents/drafts/letters are still written by him)

he once put the wet end of an ink brush in his mouth instead of the wooden end by mistake. didn't even realise until he bit down to keep it in place and ink went oozing everywhere

when his guards rushed in to find him coughing and spluttering black liquid all over his desk they thought he'd been poisoned but no he's just stupid

on his 17th birthday, his first one after being crowned, he got tackled by team avatar in the middle of the ballroom and ended up at the bottom of a cuddlepile for like ten minutes

this cuddlepile happened at an event that was very much public and very much formal. it was a scandal for weeks

just. fire lord zuko, guys. so much potential

[brassandblue]

PERSONIFICATION of ENGLAND // INTEREST TRACKER

MUSE STATUS: PRIMARY

(By liking this post, you are indicating interest in plotting with this character, and are OK with me sending memes/prompts to your inbox!)

MODERN NAME: Arthur James William Kirkland

TITLES/PEERAGE: Admiral, Duke of Wessex

OCCUPATION: Ambassador

SEX/GENDER/PRONOUNS: Male, he/him

SEXUALITY: Pansexual

FACECLAIM: JJ Feild

AGE: In 2023, appears mid 30s.

ACTUAL AGE: In 2023, roughly 2,050 years

PAST NAMES: Arthmael, Artorius

HEIGHT: 6′0″

BUILD/BODY TYPE: Wiry, lithe, very sturdy

HAIR: Golden, strawberry blonde, thick.

EYES: Deep green

PINTEREST BOARD

ALL ABOUT ARTHUR:

Arthur is a short-tempered man of many passions; often in a sour mood and prone to bouts of melancholy and deep thought, but equally so, incredible kindness, empathy, and care. Although he looks young, he is ancient and functionally immortal with strong, innate magical abilities and a natural affinity with the supernatural. He is both a man and a culmination of land, history, and culture; so while he is a nation, he still has his own consciousness, his own will and desires. Although he occupies a position high up in the British government through the 19th, 20th, and early 21st centuries, Arthur is far more at home at a local pub with good company, enjoying good songs and good food, sailing on the open ocean, or elbow-deep in the earth of his garden.

(As of the death of Queen Elizabeth I, Arthur has retired from his position as Permanent Undersecretary in the Foreign Commonwealth Office.)

He has always struggled walking the line between what he is and what he has wanted to be--despite his rebellious, fiery, caring heart, he can never escape what he is, nor escape his own sense of duty to his people and his land. History carried him from being a lost lad in the woods of Roman Britain, to a hunter and wanderer, a protector of the forests and fae, to political hostage and small warrior, to privateer, to piracy, to the Royal Navy, and finally to being a proper ambassador. 

For a time, he became hellbent on living up to the enormous expectations laid on him by English culture, the monarchy, by tradition. It took two world wars to break him of his faith in the Empire, and by the final decades of the 20th century, he worked in earnest to address the sort of man he both chose and was pushed to become.

Arthur is a wealthy philanthropist, and while he has (some) political leverage and is firmly in the class of the elite, he does not fit in with that part of society. He has little to no patience for things and people he views as incompetent, cruel, or wasteful. After all, he spent roughly 1,500 years as destitute or working poor. 

While he knows how to operate in High Society, he has lost all desire to engage in it beyond what is absolutely necessary--state dinners, charity events, diplomatic functions and meetings, etc. He is not afraid to tell a high ranking member of government to fuck off, but the only reasons he’s able to get away with any of it are that he is what he/who is, and the amount of blackmail material he has at his disposal is, frankly, obscene.

-

MISC TRIVIA:

Has a skull collection; mostly human

Rolls on the balls of his feet when anxious

Runs his hands through his hair when anxious/upset/fatigued

Has a past with addiction to narcotics and cocaine

Owns a seaworthy sailing vessel he likes to take down the coast of Europe

Is right-handed

Wrote a series of smutty novellas in the 19th century under a pseudonym

Owns a Scottish Fold cat named George; George is over 100 years old

Used to bareknuckle box and brawl in the 18th, 19th centuries

Has tattoos on his back, ass, hips, ankles

Had a punk phase. Never really left it.

Is a massive engineering nerd

Owns Oliver Cromwell's head; it is with his skull collection

Is a brilliant and accomplished marksman with firearms and archery

Reads and writes using reader glasses

-

PTSD TRIGGERS: 

- Post- world wars:* 

(Pre world war triggers still apply.)

- Loud artillery fire; real or fake (video games/TV/films) - To a lesser extent, fireworks - Strong chemical smells - Some jumpscares, if accompanied with loud noise

- Pre- world wars:

- Being abandoned - Throat injuries - Strangulation attempts/hands or cloth/rope at his throat - Dislikes the smell of blood if it is too strong and lingering - Extreme aversion to being touched without permission

-

PHYSICAL ATTRIBUTES/ABILITIES:

- These apply to his default/”is England” ‘verses only.

- Extreme sturdiness; Even compared to other nations, he can take a lot of physical hits and keep going. (Think high DEF, higher HP.)

- Rapid healing; Wounds heal quickly. A broken arm can heal within hours. Can be a problem if shrapnel/projectiles must be extracted, or if the wound is bad enough that a mercy-kill is required to avoid forcing him to painfully linger.

- Semi-immortality; Can revive from any death. Sometimes takes hours, can also take multiple days depending on the manner of death, and how far away he is from his landmass. Death by drowning in the ocean, or total bodily annihilation (being burned to ashes) will cause him to "respawn" where the Thames meets the sea.

- Above-average strength; Not quite super human and there are nations that are far stronger. Just know he can pack quite a punch.

- Limb regeneration; Amputated limbs cannot be put back--what is this, Resident Evil 7/8? However, they do grow back a la 'Deadpool.' It's gross and painful and takes days.

-

MAGICAL ABILITIES:

- These apply to his default/”is England” ‘verses only.

- Wand-based and non-wand based magics/spellcasting

- Basic and some advanced healing of other living creatures, human and non-human animals, as well as plants

- Basic and advanced boons; good luck, healthy crops, hair growth, pleasant dreams

- Basic and advanced curses; pestilences, bad luck ranging from small accidents to terrible deaths, nightmares, hauntings, visual and auditory hallucinations

- Basic and some advanced illusions; mirages, interactive illusions

- Basic and some advanced elemental spells with fire and wind

- Summoning/banishment of others; teleportation to/from elsewhere

- Minor meteorological augmentation; can make it rain, or stop raining, or rain less, can summon winds from breezes to gusts

- Sight, touch, sound-based communication with spirits, ghosts, fae, non-human entities from anywhere in the world without spellcasting; it is an innate ability. He is a 'spirit' of the island, after all.

- Non-human entities, including the above, as well as animals, just seem to gravitate to or find themselves becalmed in his presence. (Obviously this is not a hard rule and your non-human character doesn't have to like him, they could just sense that he is also not human.)

- Interaction with the dead; minor necromancy in relation to deceased nations; does not attempt human necromancy, but he can revive the recently deceased (within minutes of their death) given the right circumstances

- As a nation, he can be "sensed" by British (or British colonial or Commonwealth) citizens; sometimes people can recognize who/what he is on sight despite having never met him, sometimes people just have a strange feeling, and sometimes they don't notice anything odd at all. It is not based on patriotism, but rather, perceptiveness. (Also something that you can choose to engage with or not, and I am always happy to plot if you have ideas!)

- Innate ability to communicate with animals. It's not that he hears voices, it's more like he just kind of tends to understand them. It's the world's stupidest Disney princess.

------

WARNINGS: RPing with this character will involve sensitive topics from various eras throughout English history, as well as topics on mental illness/depression/PTSD, sexuality/sexual themes, drug addiction/substance abuse, war/violence/gore/injuries, racism/colonialism/imperialism/nationalism, socio-economic issues past & present, homophobia past & present. Some of his AUs include mentions of illness/cannibalism/violence/murder.

By liking this post and indicating your interest to engage in RP with this character, you are accepting the above warnings and have read the rules posted here on this blog.

[thebluestbluewords]

shameless id-fic about dramatic fainting

“My mother is a poisoner by trade,” Evie says smoothly, the words clear and steady despite her clenched fists. “There’s not a lot of new test subjects available to her on the Isle. She would test new brews on me. Some of them had severe neurological effects. So yes, I’ve lost consciousness before.”

The nurse nods. “Ever without provocation?” she asks gently.

Evie takes a breath in. “Nothing is without provocation,” she says softly. “The world is inherently interconnected, and even minor dehydration can be considered provocation under the wrong circumstances.”

“Ever without a direct provocation?” the nurse prompts again, “Without poisons, or anything of that nature.”

Evie unclenches her hands, deliberately, and smooths her skirt over her knees. “No.”

A tick on the clipboard. “Mm. Alright. We’ll look into getting you some blood tests. You may have low iron levels, or something of that nature.”

“Thank you,” Evie says, voice deliberately calm. “May I go now?”

“Uh-uh. No. You are sitting down and staying right here on this bed until you’ve had rest, real rest, young lady.”

Evie’s royal blue skirt clashes with the pale blue of the infirmary blankets. “Of course, ma'am,” she says, “But I have an exam next period, so I really can’t stay–”

“I’ll write you a note. Get some rest.”

+

Evie wakes up–

Shit.

Evie wakes up in the infirmary with her heart pounding out of her chest, and a raging headache pounding firmly behind her temples. Her mouth feels sticky, in the sort of way that it always does when she manages to sleep during the day, and there’s a tiny bit of late-afternoon sun still filtering through the curtains and hitting her right in the eyes.

Her test was in her first afternoon block. She’s never going to be able to make it up, and once she fails one class, the professor is going to expect repeat infractions in the future, and spread the gossip on to the other professors, until she’ll never be able to show her face here again, because she’s weak, and couldn’t handle one day without sleep–

A door slams shut, and then there’s rapid footsteps coming towards her, and Evie is going to die, she’s never going to make it through something so humiliating as being found in the infirmary when she’s supposed to be in class, and her heart is picking up again so hard it hurts, and she’s got to do something, but she’s still just so tired and even the short nap she’s had isn’t helping, and she’s trying to hard not to cry and give it all away that she almost misses the gentle hand sweeping across her own.

“Hey, Eves,” Jay says. “You’re not alone, kay?”

Oh. She’s going to cry, for real this time.

“I know you’re awake,” Jay goes on, taking her hand and squeezing a bit. “You’re making a face, and I can tell that your mind is spinning again. We made sure you’ve got a make-up exam already scheduled, and Lonnie helped vouch for you, so we’ve got AK verification that you’re really sick.”

Evie sniffles, faintly.

“We’ve been rotating in for who’s sitting with you. Lonnie went to get Mal first, but she’s got her final class right now, so I’m spending my study period with you. You’re not much help with flashcards when you’re asleep, by the way.”

“Hah,” Evie says, opening her eyes for real and pushing herself halfway upright. “Very funny.”

Jay smiles at her, and strokes his thumb so, so gently over her hand. “It got you up, didn’t it?”

“It did,” Evie agrees, pushing her free hand through her hair, combing it back into place. “Did someone take off my crown while I was asleep?”

“Mal. She thought you’d want to wake up without it tangled in there. It’s on the table if you want it.”

“Is there water?”

Jay pulls a bottle out of his own bag. There’s a familiar little white paper cup on the bedside table, but after the last time, Evie doesn’t exactly trust the school nurse not to slip her drugs when she’s not looking, ‘for her own good’, of course.

It’s warm, and sort of tastes like hot plastic, but it’s some of the best water Evie’s had in ages.

[penwieldingdreamer]

Ego sum Sol et tu es Luna - 2

Thank you everyone for reading and supporting this story. Let me know what you think of this chapter and if you like to be tagged or use the link in my bio.

Happy reading.

CW: Sexual assualt at the end

ma chère - my dear

le stupide - asshole

petit oiseau - little bird

Struggling against their grip, Y/N tried to keep up with their fast pace, her flat soles slipping on the mossy ground. She needed to get away from the soldiers, but it was not an easy feat. They already neared the castle. 

Château des Ducs of Argentan, an impressive structure housing the Palais de la Justice in the future, even though it was surrounded by houses. But now it was even more imposing, the towers of one side overlooking the vast fields of the Count's lands. She definitely wasn’t in 2021 anymore, that’s for sure. Looking up ahead, Y/N saw the famous squire, softly swaying in the saddle of his sure footed dappled gray. 

Swallowing the lump that had formed in her throat, she tightened her fists hoping to keep the trembling away from the men's prying eyes. A shiver raced down her spine as they waited outside the gates, armored men standing guard.

All felt so surreal to Y/N but she knew that technically it still could have been a dream. That she slipped on the muddy ground and really did hit her head, her consciousness only conjuring up Le Gris and his men. 

"Declare yourself." One of the guards called, training his crossbow on the tall squire. 

"It is I. Helen of Troy." Le Gris turned slightly in his saddle, motioning to the man next to her to bring her forward. Y/N glared at the soldier pulling her arm, but she had to bite her tongue. There was no use in arguing with these people or she'd sooner have a noose around her neck than she'd like to. 

The squire grabbed her by the neck of her shirt, pulling her closer to the large horse. “I have brought a gift for my lord, Count Pierre.” The guard nodded, stepping aside to let the group pass. He knew that his Lord was waiting for news about the English camps scattered around Normandy. The woman looked peculiar, wearing clothes he’d never seen before - and was that silk? She must be the daughter of a rich family, maybe even royal. None besides the upper class were able to afford such fine fabric.

“My Lord awaits in the study. He is eager for news.”

Nodding his head, Jacques pushed Y/N forth, his dappled gray towering over her. “I know your secret now, petit oiseau. The men have heard you talk to yourself.” His whispered words made her look up, shivers running down her spine. She didn’t know what he meant exactly, but could only hope it was him thinking she was a harlot, at least that could be explained.

Once on the castle grounds, Le Gris dismounted his horse, watching a stable boy take away his trusted steed and took a hold of her arm. “Let go, you brute, you’re hurting me.” Y/N glared, struggling against his tight grip. Chuckling, the giant of a man pulled her along inside the chateau to meet with his lord. 

Count Pierre d’ Alençon awaited his trusted squire and friend with dire news of the war. The English had reached more lands and they needed to be stopped or the enemy would reach Paris soon enough. A knock at the door made him look up, sending his page to open the door. His squire entered, dragging a young woman behind him. Pierre's eyes followed the line of her curves, feeling his mouth water at the prospect of taking her to bed - together with Jacques. “Ah, my friend, finally you’ve returned. With good news I hope.”

“Most certainly, my Lord.” He grinned, pushing the woman to stand in front of him. His larger hands gripped her shoulders as Le Gris felt her squirm. “I have found a Trojan horse.” His voice all but growled, leaning closer to Y/N. “The men have heard her mumbling  in English. I believe they sent a woman to spy on us.” 

The Count d’Alençon eyed her curiously. She was indeed peculiar. “A spy, you say?” He reached out, running his knuckles along the skin of her cheek and chuckling when she pulled her head away from him. A look of disgust betraying her sotic features. “So soft to the touch and dressed in the finest silk I have yet only seen kings and queens draped in. Who are you, ma chère?”

“I am no spy.” Y/N bit out, glaring at Le Gris, who had moved to stand next to his friend. 

Chuckling, the squire regarded her with dark, lust filled eyes. He’d give anything to taste her right now. “And yet you are switching languages as if it was natural to you.”

Keeping her head held high, she turned to Pierre, addressing the man who held her fate in his hand. She would need to keep her facts straight without spilling the beans of having fallen back in time to the middle ages. “I was born in England, but after my parents died I went to live with my uncle here in France. He made sure I was well educated, even for a woman.”

“Yet you still could be a spy for the English.” The count mused, walking back to his desk and sitting down. He would let Le Gris handle the questioning, maybe they'll come up with something else. "Take her away, my friend. I'll leave it in your capable hands to find out the truth."

Nodding his head, Jacques reached out, gripping her arm. She struggled against him, a glare distorting her face. “Let go, you bastard. I swear if you don’t remove your filthy hands” Having heard enough of her bickering, he grabbed her by the waist and hoisted the woman onto his shoulder. Soon enough she’d be telling him the truth. Pierre chuckled as he watched his friend struggling to keep her still, yet he knew the giant of a man his squire was. He had seen it often enough when they enjoyed the sins of the flesh late at night, joined by several women.

He entered his room, disposing of her on the bed. Jacques grabbed her, she was a little helion and he would enjoy breaking her spirit. Y/N kicked her legs, hoping to loosen his grip on her. She knew he was a fiend and the way men in this time treated women - willing or not. 

“Leave me be, le stupide!” She cried, her fists hitting his chest and pushing at his shoulders. 

“I want the truth, woman, or you’ll end up on the stake.” He growled, his face close to hers. 

His breath fanned over her skin, sending shivers down her spine. She could see the firelight reflecting in his amber eyes. If he weren't such a perverted male in medieval times she could have seen herself falling for his charm. Swallowing the lump in her throat, Y/N averted her eyes, hoping he could not read all the answers in them.

"Tell me the truth, who are you?"

"I told you, I've lived in England and came to be with my uncle."

Glowering down at her, Jacques grabbed her shoulders, turning her onto her stomach with a large huff, her feet hitting his muscled thighs as she felt the warmth of his chest bleeding through her top onto her back. "I don't believe you." He breathed in her ear, his body pushing her down into the mattress. "Your clothes are strange, and even though you might fool Pierre, you’ll not fool me. What are you hiding?”

“I’m not hiding anything,” she spat, bucking her hips to throw him off. But all it did was excite him more than she liked to. 

“If you won’t talk, maybe a night in the dungeon will loosen your tongue.” Le Gris pushed himself off of the bed, pulling Y/N with him. She was stubborn as a mule, but before he resorted to his usual ways of torture, he might try a different approach.

In the end, no matter what, she was going to talk - one way or another.

Tagging @fortheloveoffanfic