#re: the origins of this euphemism

[zhuoyichenpretty]

I cannot believe that I sat through 27 episodes of FoF and hours and hours of angst just to be hit with an mpreg joke I am screaming

(In case it doesn't come through in the translation, depending heavily on context of course, "有了" [have (it)] can be a euphemism for pregnancy. ZYC clutching his abdomen and saying "我...我好像有了" or "I...I think I have it," and then reacting the way he did, I'm pretty sure that's the implication they were going for lmao)

[mostlysignssomeportents]

How finfluencers destroyed the housing and lives of thousands of people

For the rest of May, my bestselling solarpunk utopian novel THE LOST CAUSE (2023) is available as a $2.99, DRM-free ebook!

The crash of 2008 imparted many lessons to those of us who were only dimly aware of finance, especially the problems of complexity as a way of disguising fraud and recklessness. That was really the first lesson of 2008: "financial engineering" is mostly a way of obscuring crime behind a screen of technical jargon.

This is a vital principle to keep in mind, because obscenely well-resourced "financial engineers" are on a tireless, perennial search for opportunities to disguise fraud as innovation. As Riley Quinn says, "Any time you hear 'fintech,' substitute 'unlicensed bank'":

https://pluralistic.net/2023/05/01/usury/#tech-exceptionalism

But there's another important lesson to learn from the 2008 disaster, a lesson that's as old as the South Seas Bubble: "leverage" (that is, debt) is a force multiplier for fraud. Easy credit for financial speculation turns local scams into regional crime waves; it turns regional crime into national crises; it turns national crises into destabilizing global meltdowns.

When financial speculators have easy access to credit, they "lever up" their wagers. A speculator buys your house and uses it for collateral for a loan to buy another house, then they make a bet using that house as collateral and buy a third house, and so on. This is an obviously terrible practice and lenders who extend credit on this basis end up riddling the real economy with rot – a single default in the chain can ripple up and down it and take down a whole neighborhood, town or city. Any time you see this behavior in debt markets, you should batten your hatches for the coming collapse. Unsurprisingly, this is very common in crypto speculation, where it's obscured behind the bland, unpronounceable euphemism of "re-hypothecation":

https://www.coindesk.com/consensus-magazine/2023/05/10/rehypothecation-may-be-common-in-traditional-finance-but-it-will-never-work-with-bitcoin/

Loose credit markets often originate with central banks. The dogma that holds that the only role the government has to play in tuning the economy is in setting interest rates at the Fed means the answer to a cooling economy is cranking down the prime rate, meaning that everyone earns less money on their savings and are therefore incentivized to go and risk their retirement playing at Wall Street's casino.

The "zero interest rate policy" shows what happens when this tactic is carried out for long enough. When the economy is built upon mountains of low-interest debt, when every business, every stick of physical plant, every car and every home is leveraged to the brim and cross-collateralized with one another, central bankers have to keep interest rates low. Raising them, even a little, could trigger waves of defaults and blow up the whole economy.

Holding interest rates at zero – or even flipping them to negative, so that your savings lose value every day you refuse to flush them into the finance casino – results in still more reckless betting, and that results in even more risk, which makes it even harder to put interest rates back up again.

This is a morally and economically complicated phenomenon. On the one hand, when the government provides risk-free bonds to investors (that is, when the Fed rate is over 0%), they're providing "universal basic income for people with money." If you have money, you can park it in T-Bills (Treasury bonds) and the US government will give you more money:

https://realprogressives.org/mmp-blog-34-responses/

On the other hand, while T-Bills exist and are foundational to the borrowing picture for speculators, ZIRP creates free debt for people with money – it allows for ever-greater, ever-deadlier forms of leverage, with ever-worsening consequences for turning off the tap. As 2008 forcibly reminded us, the vast mountains of complex derivatives and other forms of exotic debt only seems like an abstraction. In reality, these exotic financial instruments are directly tethered to real things in the real economy, and when the faery gold disappears, it takes down your home, your job, your community center, your schools, and your whole country's access to cancer medication:

https://www.theguardian.com/world/2012/jun/08/greek-drug-shortage-worsens

Being a billionaire automatically lowers your IQ by 30 points, as you are insulated from the consequences of your follies, lapses, prejudices and superstitions. As @pixelpusher220@dmv.community says, Elon Musk is what Howard Hughes would have turned into if he hadn't been a recluse:

https://mamot.fr/@pixelpusher220@dmv.community/112457199729198644

The same goes for financiers during periods of loose credit. Loose Fed money created an "everything bubble" that saw the prices of every asset explode, from housing to stocks, from wine to baseball cards. When every bet pays off, you win the game by betting on everything:

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Everything_bubble

That meant that the ZIRPocene was an era in which ever-stupider people were given ever-larger sums of money to gamble with. This was the golden age of the "finfluencer" – a Tiktok dolt with a surefire way for you to get rich by making reckless bets that endanger the livelihoods, homes and wellbeing of your neighbors.

Finfluencers are dolts, but they're also dangerous. Writing for The American Prospect, the always-amazing Maureen Tkacik describes how a small clutch of passive-income-brainworm gurus created a financial weapon of mass destruction, buying swathes of apartment buildings and then destroying them, ruining the lives of their tenants, and their investors:

https://prospect.org/infrastructure/housing/2024-05-22-hell-underwater-landlord/

Tcacik's main characters are Matt Picheny, Brent Ritchie and Koteswar “Jay” Gajavelli, who ran a scheme to flip apartment buildings, primarily in Houston, America's fastest growing metro, which also boasts some of America's weakest protections for tenants. These finance bros worked through Gajavelli's company Applesway Investment Group, which levered up his investors' money with massive loans from Arbor Realty Trust, who also originated loans to many other speculators and flippers.

For investors, the scheme was a classic heads-I-win/tails-you-lose: Gajavelli paid himself a percentage of the price of every building he bought, a percentage of monthly rental income, and a percentage of the resale price. This is typical of the "syndicating" sector, which raised $111 billion on this basis:

https://www.wsj.com/articles/a-housing-bust-comes-for-thousands-of-small-time-investors-3934beb3

Gajavelli and co bought up whole swathes of Houston and other cities, apartment blocks both modest and luxurious, including buildings that had already been looted by previous speculators. As interest rates crept up and the payments for the adjustable-rate loans supporting these investments exploded, Gajavell's Applesway and its subsidiary LLCs started to stiff their suppliers. Garbage collection dwindled, then ceased. Water outages became common – first weekly, then daily. Community rooms and pools shuttered. Lawns grew to waist-high gardens of weeds, fouled with mounds of fossil dogshit. Crime ran rampant, including murders. Buildings filled with rats and bedbugs. Ceilings caved in. Toilets backed up. Hallways filled with raw sewage:

https://pluralistic.net/timberridge

Meanwhile, the value of these buildings was plummeting, and not just because of their terrible condition – the whole market was cooling off, in part thanks to those same interest-rate hikes. Because the loans were daisy-chained, problems with a single building threatened every building in the portfolio – and there were problems with a lot more than one building.

This ruination wasn't limited to Gajavelli's holdings. Arbor lent to multiple finfluencer grifters, providing the leverage for every Tiktok dolt to ruin a neighborhood of their choosing. Arbor's founder, the "flamboyant" Ivan Kaufman, is associated with a long list of bizarre pop-culture and financial freak incidents. These have somehow eclipsed his scandals, involving – you guessed it – buying up apartment buildings and turning them into dangerous slums. Two of his buildings in Hyattsville, MD accumulated 2,162 violations in less than three years.

Arbor graduated from owning slums to creating them, lending out money to grifters via a "crowdfunding" platform that rooked retail investors into the scam, taking advantage of Obama-era deregulation of "qualified investor" restrictions to sucker unsophisticated savers into handing over money that was funneled to dolts like Gajavelli. Arbor ran the loosest book in town, originating mortgages that wouldn't pass the (relatively lax) criteria of Fannie Mae and Freddie Mac. This created an ever-enlarging pool of apartments run by dolts, without the benefit of federal insurance. As one short-seller's report on Arbor put it, they were the origin of an epidemic of "Slumlord Millionaires":

https://viceroyresearch.org/wp-content/uploads/2023/11/Arbor-Slumlord-Millionaires-Jan-8-2023.pdf

The private equity grift is hard to understand from the outside, because it appears that a bunch of sober-sided, responsible institutions lose out big when PE firms default on their loans. But the story of the Slumlord Millionaires shows how such a scam could be durable over such long timescales: remember that the "syndicating" sector pays itself giant amounts of money whether it wins or loses. The consider that they finance this with investor capital from "crowdfunding" platforms that rope in naive investors. The owners of these crowdfunding platforms are conduits for the money to make the loans to make the bets – but it's not their money. Quite the contrary: they get a fee on every loan they originate, and a share of the interest payments, but they're not on the hook for loans that default. Heads they win, tails we lose.

In other words, these crooks are intermediaries – they're platforms. When you're on the customer side of the platform, it's easy to think that your misery benefits the sellers on the platform's other side. For example, it's easy to believe that as your Facebook feed becomes enshittified with ads, that advertisers are the beneficiaries of this enshittification.

But the reason you're seeing so many ads in your feed is that Facebook is also ripping off advertisers: charging them more, spending less to police ad-fraud, being sloppier with ad-targeting. If you're not paying for the product, you're the product. But if you are paying for the product? You're still the product:

https://pluralistic.net/2021/01/04/how-to-truth/#adfraud

In the same way: the private equity slumlord who raises your rent, loads up on junk fees, and lets your building disintegrate into a crime-riddled, sewage-tainted, rat-infested literal pile of garbage is absolutely fucking you over. But they're also fucking over their investors. They didn't buy the building with their own money, so they're not on the hook when it's condemned or when there's a forced sale. They got a share of the initial sale price, they get a percentage of your rental payments, so any upside they miss out on from a successful sale is just a little extra they're not getting. If they squeeze you hard enough, they can probably make up the difference.

The fact that this criminal playbook has wormed its way into every corner of the housing market makes it especially urgent and visible. Housing – shelter – is a human right, and no person can thrive without a stable home. The conversion of housing, from human right to speculative asset, has been a catastrophe:

https://pluralistic.net/2021/06/06/the-rents-too-damned-high/

Of course, that's not the only "asset class" that has been enshittified by private equity looters. They love any kind of business that you must patronize. Capitalists hate capitalism, so they love a captive audience, which is why PE took over your local nursing home and murdered your gran:

https://pluralistic.net/2021/02/23/acceptable-losses/#disposable-olds

Homes are the last asset of the middle class, and the grifter class know it, so they're coming for your house. Willie Sutton robbed banks because "that's where the money is" and We Buy Ugly Houses defrauds your parents out of their family home because that's where their money is:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/05/11/ugly-houses-ugly-truth/#homevestor

The plague of housing speculation isn't a US-only phenomenon. We have allies in Spain who are fighting our Wall Street landlords:

https://pluralistic.net/2021/11/24/no-puedo-pagar-no-pagara/#fuckin-aardvarks

Also in Berlin:

https://pluralistic.net/2021/08/16/die-miete-ist-zu-hoch/#assets-v-human-rights

The fight for decent housing is the fight for a decent world. That's why unions have joined the fight for better, de-financialized housing. When a union member spends two hours commuting every day from a black-mold-filled apartment that costs 50% of their paycheck, they suffer just as surely as if their boss cut their wage:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/12/13/i-want-a-roof-over-my-head/#and-bread-on-the-table

The solutions to our housing crises aren't all that complicated – they just run counter to the interests of speculators and the ruling class. Rent control, which neoliberal economists have long dismissed as an impossible, inevitable disaster, actually works very well:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/05/16/mortgages-are-rent-control/#housing-is-a-human-right-not-an-asset

As does public housing:

https://jacobin.com/2023/10/red-vienna-public-affordable-housing-homelessness-matthew-yglesias

There are ways to have a decent home and a decent life without being burdened with debt, and without being a pawn in someone else's highly leveraged casino bet.

If you'd like an essay-formatted version of this post to read or share, here's a link to it on pluralistic.net, my surveillance-free, ad-free, tracker-free blog:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/05/22/koteswar-jay-gajavelli/#if-you-ever-go-to-houston

Image: Boy G/Google Maps (modified) https://pluralistic.net/timberridge

[skeysesil]

The mythology behind Count Orlok and his origins.

In light of recent events, such as the premier of the movie Nosferatu by Robert Eggers, starring Lily-Rose Depp, Bill Skarsgård, and Nicholas Hoult, which in my opinion is an absolute masterpiece that managed to hypnotize me, and bring back from a deep slumber my passions and interests, I decided to go back to my roots and seek the meanings behind Orlok's origins.

Before you reluctantly begin reading or say "did you watch the original movie? do you even know what you're talking about?", remember this is an interpretation of origins, mythology, and perhaps symbolism, since this is what I specialize in.

I did not watch the original Nosferatu, or any other remake or interpretation. Still, I am Romanian, with access to certain information. Although I carry a deep respect for Vlad the Impaler, I will try as much as possible to not bring any similarities between him, Orlok, and of course, Stoker's Dracula, since this is not a comparison article, nor do I have the interest of writing about Vlad or Dracula.

This is mainly about Orlok, Romanian folklore, mythology, and Dacian origins.

The name "Nosferatu" has a vague story behind it as it is not an original name, but a re-writing of the word "necuratul", which in Romanian, is a euphemism for the devil, but could also derive from "nesuferitul" [tr: the insufferable one; the offensive one] or "nefârtatul" [tr: the demon, the devil, the unfriendly, the enemy].

The triggering factor that made me begin my digging was what the old nun from the monastery said while nursing Thomas after being found almost dead by the side of the river.

"aista o fost vrajitor la vremea lui, solomonar" || "he was a sorcerer back in his time, solomonar"

Now, the translation was a bit off, because wizard or sorcerer would be wrong, the most fitting version is in fact "warlock", Orlok being an interpretation or transcription of it.

The definition of warlock is simple - a male practitioner of witchcraft; a man who is thought to be in league with the powers of darkness and to have supernatural knowledge and means of bewitching and harming others; a man who practices black magic.

But what backs up and enriches the mythology behind Orlok is that he was called solomonar, the term being used by Professor von Franz as well.

In Romanian folklore, a solomonar was a sorcerer who was believed to control the clouds and rain, those who could bring hail/storm and heal diseases; they are also known as Zgrimințieș in Țara Moților [Germ: Motzenland], also known as Țara de Piatră [The Stone Land], an ethnographical region of Romania in the Apuseni Mountains, on the upper basin of the Arieș and Crișul Alb River rivers.

Mythology says that the solomonari have a specific book, which contains all their knowledge and power. They study and learn from it in the school from the Babariului Fortress on the Garaleu Mountain [in Dacian times, now somewhere near the Ialomița cave upper from Sinaia, and Babele, the area on the Bucegi Mountains plateau], and not all of them are selected to become a solomonar, only one out of seven. One source states that a solomonar is an initiated priest. This is directly related to the myths about geto-dacian priests called Kapnobatai or Ktisai, who used to live in solitary places, forests, or near the mountain rivers.

One more thing worth mentioning regarding the Solomonar education is that it was believed to be held somewhere at the ends of the Earth in a hole or a cave, and that the lectures would be taught by the devil himself. But not all children would be selected to carry on with such education, only the ones carrying a specific birthmark - a particular type of membrane on their head or on the whole of their body. An extension of this information has it that these students would avoid the sun for seven days during their study, making them some type of Strigoi or Vampire.

Another aspect that has to be written down is the concept of strigoi, as it is directly related to solomonari, having Dacian origins as well.

In Romanian folklore, there are two types of strigoi, the born ones, or the ones who became, and Orlok is most probably one that was turned into a strigoi, as it can be directly linked to the tradition showed practiced by the gypsies, explaining his disgust and slight anger in the scene when Thomas mentioned it.

Those who are believed to become strigoi are children who died without being baptized, the dead who during their life have done terrible things to everyone around them, and those who die young via hanging, drowning, being shot, etc [Vlad the Impaler's older brother is believed to be one as he had an absolutely horrible death, at the age of 17 being beaten, tortured, having his eyes gouged out with hot iron and buried alive], and the dead ones left unsupervised over which a car, dog, mouse, or any other bird has stepped over. Our tradition is to never leave the dead alone in the house until burial and to always be there someone to look over them, especially at night.

My take on Orlok's life before Ellen is that he was indeed a rich man, who practiced black magic, and was feared. Perhaps the villagers hunted him down, killed him, and buried him. That might be how he was turned into a strigoi, which is directly related to the myth of the vampire. But what's more intriguing is that he mentions Ellen waking him up from his slumber, which makes me believe the villagers have experienced some terrors, causing them to dig up his grave and put a spike through his heart, their attempt failing, and having Orlok roaming back on the surface of the Earth again.

[alleyskywalker]

Some of Louis’ choices in the finale do make me raise my eyebrows a little bit at him. He's got all the right to be pissed at Armand, no question. But why does this automatically redeem Lestat in his eyes? OK, sure, Lestat saves him - that's new information to him, but...First, this doesn't change anything about Lestat's part in Claudia's death (which is what he primarily confronted him about in the tower) nor the fact that Lestat willingly participated in the trial. Nor does it change the fact that Armand saved him from being starved to death. Technically, they both saved Louis, but at different points and in different ways. (If Armand really wanted him dead, he could have just left him in the wall or could have warned the coven about Louis’ plan to destroy/attack them, etc. And even though he lied about the proportion of his role, Armand had already admitted to knowing that the coven was planning to kill Louis and Claudia. And…Louis makes the choice to warn Armand to not be at the theater before he gets the “full” story of how much Armand knew/participated. At that point, all Louis “knew” was that Armand had saved him, which…wasn’t even technically a lie in and of itself, just, again the degree of things.)

So, what really changes re: Armand and Lestat in the final reveal? For Armand: he participated in the trial more actively and in saving Louis less than originally supposed. For Lestat: he participated in saving Louis, whereas initially Louis thought he hadn’t. So ultimately…both Armand and Lestat actively participate in the trial and then both participate in saving Louis. (Granted, Armand lies more in the process. But on the other hand – Armand can’t really be expected to care about Claudia and Lestat can; Armand had attachments and commitments to the coven and Lestat didn’t…) If Louis had just walked away from Armand as well, that’s fair enough. But how does Lestat suddenly warrant a reconciliation (and apology??) when a similar level of participation in this whole debacle warrants Armand – Louis’ partner for decades, whom he had supposedly forgiven for the worst of what happened in Paris, who has stuck with him through various self-destructive behavior trying to fix what he'd broken – an immediate break up (with some physical violence to boot) with no questions asked? (And he has to be at least somewhat over it if he hasn’t bothered to hunt down Sam despite them knowing all about where he is and what he’s up to these days.)

Speaking of questions for Louis, here’s one. So, Armand claims that the coven “improvised” a death sentence from the word banishment. He says this in the context of claiming that he saved Louis by mind controlling the crowd into sentencing Louis to banishment instead of death. But what if…it’s not true that the coven “improvised”? Perhaps “banishment” has a double meaning or gets used as a euphemism for those sentenced to die of starvation in the wall or just who get buried in those crypts after committing crimes. I’m not saying, btw, that this is indeed so, but we don’t actually have evidence that it isn’t. Satiago getting flustered at first indicates that this isn’t a formal way to refer to this kind of punishment/sentencing at least, but when he tells the coven to “tuck him in nice and tight” everyone know exactly what he means, so there’s a basis to assume  the possibility of some common understanding of banishment = getting shoved into the wall, alive or not, whether slang, euphemism or similar. So, let’s for a second assume this is true.

Armand wouldn’t admit this context to Louis while he’s lying about saving him at the trial, because it takes away from Armand’s role as his savior, so if he’s going to lie about mind controlling the crowd, he has to lie/bend the truth about how much the coven needed to improvise to arrange for a death sentence regardless. It also makes sense then that Armand might not have taken this road to trying to save Louis, in fear/knowledge that it would/could just come out worse.

So, what of Lestat? Lestat knows the rules, conventions, and language customs around the coven because, well, he founded/was part of it. So if “banishment” could be easily interpreted as “banishment to starve in the wall,” then Lestat would know that or could be expected to. Yet, this is the punishment he chose when he could have mind controlled the crowd into saying anything. Hell, why didn’t he mind control them into saying “not guilty?” Would have solved a lot of issues, yk?  Would this make Lestat kinda extra vengeful/sadistic? Sure, but…he did just willingly participate as the star witness in a trial to burn Louis and their “daughter” to death. Is this really sooo out of character from what Louis knows or thinks he knows about Lestat at that point in time? Like, not even to question Daniel’s suggestion that Lestat saved him – even though, the script is not actually evidence of that, just that Armand might have had a more extensive role in the play? (And…he could have still been under duress to direct it as much as he would have been to just not tell Louis about it. But Louis doesn’t ask about/consider this either.)

I’m not saying that’s how it went, mind. The reunion scene with Lestat makes it pretty clear that Lestat had in fact wanted to save Louis. But Louis can’t/doesn’t know this, certainly not prior to the reunion scene. Did Lestat actually save him? Is there any other context he might be missing? This is just a theory Daniel has after all. Does Claudia’s death no longer matter then? Doesn’t this just mean that both Lestat and Armand belatedly tried to save him? He’s obviously shocked and not thinking straight – I’m not saying this to bash him or anything (and leaving Armand would have been a justified reaction regardless, just for the lying). But it’s kinda crazy to me that Louis is apparently so eager to believe the worst of Armand and find any reason possible to forgive Lestat at the drop of a hat.  

I don’t really have a point here. Just…need to throw thoughts into the void because the show melted my brain a bit. Forgive me, etc. I do love/enjoy all these characters.

[kerokasa]

re: the language of queerness in project sekai

i’m specifically using queer here to denote a type of subject-position/relationship to society, rather than any specific identities a character might hold. i don’t think a game like project sekai is particularly interested in ever putting straightforward labels on characters, even though a character like mizuki clearly reads as trans to many players.

which ofc is my entire point… the game communicates a lot of information about mizuki without a lot of direct references to identity, instead using the language of difference as a euphemism for transness/queerness.

an event like “beside unchanging warmth” ultimately points to a trans story without stating anything explicitly, and i think it’s interesting to read it while paying attention to what the word choices are actually doing here.

in flashbacks to elementary school mizuki, the word “weird” (変/hen) is doing so much heavy lifting. it’s a word that inherently calls up a certain kind of relation/power dynamic between what is considered normal vs abnormal. the language is walking this precarious line of saying-not-saying, where nobody actually defines what makes mizuki “weird”; the responsibility is placed on the reader to infer that mizuki wearing frilly/cute (feminine) clothes is seen as transgressive by her classmates.

it feels important that mizuki seems especially hurt by the word “weird” in this flashback, and i think the line delivery supports this as well. contextually, i can’t help but read it as a stand-in for more overtly derogatory language/transphobia, softened and sanitized by replacing anything specific with a comparatively broad adjective like “weird.”

(this raises a lot of interesting questions for me wrt what makes queerness legible in translation / in my experience, anglophone fans are often looking for specific markers of identity when said identities generally originate from a certain class of euroamerican queer culture and academia! which is not to say prsk should or should not be more explicit in depicting trans characters; it’s just another point of discussion)

all this leads me to other instances in which the game draws attention to weirdness/difference — and the reasons i believe both mizuki and rui’s storylines evoke queer coming-of-age plots.

this might be slightly controversial to say, but it’s hard not to draw the connection given their middle school friendship, and how much rui’s background emphasizes the same ideas of weirdness/difference. even their final kizuna rank, which is correctly translated in english to say “i guess we’re both different” (僕達も変わったものだね) returns to that word 変 that upset baby mizuki so much.

i’ve seen some people argue that rui’s backstory should just be read as an indicator of his neurodivergence and well. for what it’s worth, i’m gay and neurodivergent like every other goddamn person on this site and within the context of rui’s arc throughout the game, i think there’s still a very strong argument to be made that mizuki and rui bonded over their shared experience of being queer.

after all, why is mizuki having “weird” taste in clothes taken as unassailable evidence of her transness if rui’s “weird” thinking cannot also be read as queer (or queer and neurodivergent)?

i will note that rui’s insecurities have never centered around an inability to communicate with his classmates (unlike nene, whose arc is VERY much about her becoming comfortable around new people and realizing that they want to be her friends). although other students are afraid of him, rui is a skilled communicator in public and doesn’t appear bothered by social interaction.

rather, rui’s insecurities center on this idea that he is dangerous to the people around him / he expects to be punished for expressions of vulnerability or intimacy.

fan communities nowadays sometimes forget the origins of “queer coding” as a concept in cultural criticism. going back to classically queer coded disney villains, romantic/sexual interest isn’t really a huge part of what makes these characters queer coded. rather, it’s about presentation — stereotypically effeminate mannerisms, ursula’s visual resemblance to drag queens in the little mermaid, vocal inflections that audiences (often subconsciously) associate with gay men in particular.

queer coding is shorthand that tells the audience these characters are sinister, untrustworthy, duplicitous. it’s rooted in a history of homophobic and transphobic rhetoric that paints queer and trans people as insidious, contagious (as in the AIDS epidemic), corrupting and luring innocent straight youth into degenerate queer life.

which brings me back to why i think a queer interpretation of rui’s backstory makes it so much richer and more meaningful. starting in the main story and then really coming to the forefront in wonder halloween, rui has internalized this belief that he is a danger to his peers. that his desire for closeness will always inevitably cross a line and he will end up rejected and alone.

this mirrors a really common, familiar experience of being a closeted gay teenager and the fear of how the people around you would react to your identity. in many cases, people are afraid of coming out because of how their friendships will inevitably be sexualized, or they’ll distance themselves in order to prevent anyone from misinterpreting their relationships and intentions.

personally speaking, i really identify with rui for these reasons, even if the story uses his inventions/directing as the stated reason for his fears. it’s really not until the formation of wxs (and meeting tsukasa specifically, as mizuki and the pandemonium trio have pointed out) that rui begins to feel safe enough to be honest and vulnerable about his desires both on and off the stage.

and it is important that it’s tsukasa in the end! tsukasa flips the script that rui is used to — rui has cut himself off to avoid rejection, but tsukasa is the one who seeks rui out, invites him into the troupe, works for him to stay. tsukasa recognizes something in rui and for the first time, someone isn’t reacting from a place of fear or simply not understanding the scope of rui’s vision, but instead he wants the very thing that rui thinks he needs to suppress. it’s also significant that tsukasa is another boy, and it’s significant that the idea of “weirdness” comes back in the form of “oddball 1-2”, which reframes difference as something that connects rui and tsukasa as a unit. he is no longer alone because he’s too weird, but now that same weirdness brings him closer to another person.

i also think it’s so fascinating how mizuki and rui bond over their shared difference or “loneliness,” and the game presents it as these 2 people who really have nothing in common besides their loneliness — i think mizuki says something along the lines of being happy that rui has found people that can relate to him outside of simply being lonely. it reminds me of my own experience being closeted in high school and somehow drifting into spaces with other kids who eventually came out as queer/trans, and how we were each on our own parallel journeys without ever really talking about it with one another, or how gay/lesbian communities in small towns are often very close out of necessity (unlike in big cities, where gay/lesbian communities don’t overlap as much because they don’t need to). it’s as if rui and mizuki have a shared understanding that even if the other’s particular experience is inaccessible to them, they have to be each other’s support system.

all this is to say. mizuki’s story only really makes sense to me as a trans story. similarly, rui’s story is so much richer when read in a queer context. nobody has to agree with me and i don’t really care about the game’s ultimate intent, but i just wanted to articulate how i personally find a lot of value in interpreting these characters in this way.

[mist-the-wannabe-linguist]

Re: my idea that a group of Ra'zac/Lethrblaka could've been called a plague in human history as an euphemism and the original meaning would've been lost to time so in the current day records mentioning "XY was killed by the plague" and "the villages of A and B were lost to the plague" would have people believing there had been an actual plague, it just occured to me that this would work pretty well with the fact that there aren't (to my knowledge) any mentions of actual plagues, epidemics or diseases in general in Inheritance Cycle. So there could be a belief that medicine has improved over the centuries and that's why we no longer see any cases of the plague of old (maybe they explained it as the elves with their advanced medicine helping cure the mysterious plague that humans have brought from their homeland, which would be true in a way since it was the elven Riders who helped defeat the Ra'zac)

[magentagalaxies]

"tour of duty" (the filmed version of their 2002 tour) in general is just kind of a bizarre point for kids in the hall that i haven't really talked to any of them about but is hard not to notice when you look at their entire canon. like it's certainly good - there are some tour-original sketches that i highly enjoy and some live versions of filmed sketches that take a fun creative spin on it, but in general things just feel noticeably strange.

buddy cole specifically tells the fur trappers to "fuck off" (buddy very rarely swears and across all the buddy material i've watched for the documentary he's only said "fuck" 3 times across forty years). danny husk wins an award for being a high school vice principal and at&love isn't acknowledged in the bit. the "is he?" sketch has been revised to pack in as many euphemisms for gay as possible, putting the bit on top of another bit. and of course i have my chicken lady thoughts but i don't want to bias anyone else bc i genuinely want to know what your takes are before i share mine.

and again these aren't all bad choices - i think the danny husk vice principal monologue works really well and may not work as well as a different character despite contradicting the Husk Lore™️. but they're all very distinctive choices

idk there's two reasons i personally give for why tour of duty is so strange (to me at least, maybe other people don't notice). the first is that it comes less than 3 years after their other tour-film, the 1999/2000 tour "same guys new dresses" (also available on youtube!) i fucking love SGND and i'll be up front that it's my preferred kith tour video. but part of what makes SGND so special is that it's not just a recording of the live show, it's a full tour documentary following the guys traveling across the country performing together, occasionally showing full sketches but also delving into the stories behind why the sketches played out the way they did. and, sure, sometimes that means cutting out a sketch that i wish i could've seen in full (rip power of the suburbs) but my life is so much better for having seen the "laser eye surgery gossip" or knowing how much drama that goddamn robot-dog-prop caused.

so to then see tour of duty as a straight-up recording of the live show leaves that element of mystery, that we don't get to know why choices were made because we only see the end result. there was a conscious decision not to shoot tour of duty like SGND - the tour doc didn't do well financially, and they also had more of a reason to document that tour since it was their first time working together since the disastrous fallout of "brain candy," and first big national tour since the show ended. the circumstances were just very different

and that's true both personally and politically bc the second suspected reason for tour of duty's weird tone is you can obviously tell 9/11 just happened. two sketches directly reference it - bruce and mark's businessman characters sell scam patriotic products that are all just a rubber band, and buddy cole visits the middle east and ends up having sex with saddam hussein (tho fun fact this concept was written BEFORE 9/11). but the event casts an obvious shadow, especially since both the buddy cole bit and the danny husk monologue were recycled pieces from scott's cancelled one-man-show which was set to debut in new york city on september 19th 2001.

it's also interesting comparing this to SGND. the late 90s are often remembered through rose-tinted glasses due to a generally good economy in the united states and a lot of the social tensions with disenfranchised groups still bubbling under the surface rather than being talked about openly. SGND doesn't reference contemporary events much, but the closure of AT&Love from the KITH finale is undone since the economy has re-entered "rock-on fashion," and buddy cole comments on the Y2K computer bug being underwhelming. (i also went on a super long tangent on how the original show reflected the socioeconomic climate of the 90s but that's a whole other topic i need to go to bed)

i don't know how the KITH feel about "tour of duty." i can't know how much this strangeness was felt for them backstage, and i think in some regards it can only be picked up on as an outsider, albeit an outsider who has watched so much KITH content to know how their work evolved even when not on television. all in all, i'm glad "tour of duty" exists and even the swings that didn't really land for me are still admirable as creative choices.

it's also cool to analyze as someone who has now been to a KITH live show over 2 decades later and got to see those behind-the-scenes conversations play out. the bellini benefit also featured a lot of strangeness, caused by a limited rehearsal schedule and one of the cast members being unable to attend due to illness, but they absolutely exceeded these limitations to put on a very fun show. we did film the performance and rehearsals and that show is going to be released eventually (i'm not in charge of it but the person who is also works on the buddy cole doc so i'm involved). i don't know if it's going to be presented more like SGND or tour of duty or something completely different, but it'll be cool to be part of KITH live show canon

[f3maled0g]

“What’s eating you?”

Edmund Pevensie x Fem!Reader

Warnings - We live in a society, allusions to sex, innuendos.

Summary - Gurl I dunno.

A/N: Don’t repost, re-blogs are absolutely fine

—————

“Pevensie!”

There you appeared with a moonshine induced stagger. One could have sworn Edmund Pevensie’s eyes shone. He quickly assumed his original demeanour. Cold and unbothered, although now with a certain lightness to his shoulders. All the while, you made your boisterous trek to his spot, sporting a lopsided grin.

“Hello,” you sung, albeit badly.

He released an audible humph.

“Geez, something crawl up your trousers, old boy?”

“Okay.” Edmund raised a brow. Then, another.

You paused, maintaining deadly serious eye contact as if about to divulge the most sordid goss.

“What’s eating you?”

“Excuse me?”

“The phrase,” you jabbed at an explanation. “What’s bothering you?”

“In what world are you from where they use that euphemism?”

“Give a girl a break, concern is the most honourable gift I’ve ever bestowed upon anyone,” you returned a salute.

He scanned your hopeful countenance with a critical eye and took a generous swig of brown from a suddenly procured flask in his hand. Ed sighs, his thoughts muffled by the wild clamour of teenagers coupled with the cantankerous ambience that parties generally possessed without fail.

“So,” you inhaled, teetering on the edge of a conversation doomed for death. “Wanna get out of here?”

His lips twitched with a growing smile at the sight of your determined look in his periphery, more than prepared to bolt at the door. Not that you ever noticed the subtle glances, after all, stoicism was his magnum opus while yours ignorant bliss.

“Suit yourself,” you concluded with a shrug and waltzed out the exit and Edmund felt obligated to follow, legs mechanically willing themselves in your direction. Someone had to look out for you.

Just when he thought he’d lost you, Edmund found you leaning against the stout wood of an old oak. You bathed in the staple warmth of summer air, skin set aglow by the moonlight streaming through cracks of the foliage.

“You know, it’s considered rude to stare.” You whispered with closed eyes, conscious of his burning scrutiny.

He lingered at a comfortable distance from you, enraptured by your surreal tranquillity. Your eyes fluttered open, the reflection of the moon evident in your dilated pupils. He drew closer, your presence willing him to motion, like a magnet, until he was close enough to hear the rhythmic pattern of your breath.

The proximity was agonising, enticingly so. Your tangibility rushed him into a confused frenzy. He wanted to touch you. Worship the deity that you were. Longing nagged at him. How was it you were so close yet out of reach? It was aggravating. You were aggravating and this puzzle could only be solved in one way.

You looked at him through your lashes, a haziness dancing across your face. “What’s eating you, Pevensie?”

What passed in the moment was a blur.

Edmund stood before you, obscuring the view of the moon. You tilted your head, the bare slope of your neck appeared so inviting. It took everything to restrain himself. To maintain his resolve. But if you would just ask nicely, sweetly. Edmund’s heart would yield.

Your stare was a siren call to him. Beckoning and beckoning. It seemed his heart was not the only appendage at your beck and call. Edmund’s hands had a mind of their own and commanded forward. You bristled, the grip snaking around your waist shook your guard.

“Is this o-”

“Yes,” you gasped, much like a fish out of water.

Edmund chuckled, “You didn’t even let me finish, love.”

“In the biblical sense, I just might if you got on with it already.”

Seriously, you were rushing this? He pictured this a little differently, wanting to take his time with the pretty thing before him and explore the contours of your soul. After all, not only was Edmund Pevensie a fighter but a lover too.

Impatient hands latched onto his shirt collar, willing him forward and flush against you. The contact stirred something deep within your lower belly, something reserved only for him. He kissed you hard, then pulled away, noses nudging each other’s. You smiled, baring your teeth with closed eyes.

“Y/N,” Edmund breathed, “Look at me.”

“Hmm?”

“I like you, alright?”

“Alright. I like you too.”

Resolve broken.

You laughed heartily. “So, why don’t you just get it over with, buddy boy?”

“Buddy boy, huh?” He pulled away, extending a hand to pull you from the mighty oak. “You really are something.”

“Thanks a bunch, Eds,” you scoffed, jutting your tongue out. “Not only am I aroused, but aroused and disappointed.”

You turned to leave but Edmund stopped you.

“Listen, it’s not that. I just-”

“Are you a virgin?” you deadpanned, “Is that what this is?”

Edmund pouted, wounded. You raised two brows.

Ignoring the blow to his ego, he pressed on, “I just want to take my time with you, is all.”

Oh. You warmed from the explanation.

“So, that’s what’s been bothering you.”

You approached again and this time planted a kiss on his cheek, his face unusually ruddy from the affection.

“Well, at least let me take you home?” he suggested.

“I do have a curfew.”

“So, about the sex…” you began, looping an arm around his.

Edmund rolled his eyes, “Name the date.”

[maditalksmusic]

An Analysis of Jeff Buckley's Grace (1994)

I still remember vividly the first time I listened to Jeff Buckley’s “Lover, You Should've Come Over". It was a rainy winter evening in 2021, and I was in a bit of a music rut. Everything I’d been listening to on repeat for the last month or two had become annoyingly redundant, and in a rather torpid attempt to reinvigorate my consumption of music, I decided to put my Spotify-generated “Discover Weekly” playlist. A few songs went by that, weren’t bad per se, but certainly weren’t all that memorable. When that opening harmonium passage graced my ears, chills washed over me. I stopped my Pinterest scroll, turned up the volume, then laid back in bed and just listened. Six and a half minutes later, I found myself uncontrollably weeping. To this day, “Lover, You Should’ve Come Over” is still my favorite song ever made. 

Jeff Buckley’s charm lies in the fact that, as it was best said by Dominique Leone in her 2004 review of Grace for Pitchfork, he was “a songbird, like the kind that used to receive roses and blown kisses from the debutantes in the balcony after performances.” While technically classified under the extremely broad umbrella that is rock music, Buckley effortlessly blurs the lines of genre on Grace. He incorporates a myriad of sounds characteristic of not only rock, but also jazz, blues, and folk. He got his start in Los Angeles and then moved to New York City and joined guitarist Gary Lucas’ band, Gods & Monsters, prior to entering a record deal as a solo artist. Buckley performed at cafés at tiny venues around Lower Manhattan through 1992 and 1993, most frequently at Sin-é, which inspired the release of his debut solo EP, Live at Sin-é, in 1993. A standout from the EP is “Je N'en Connais Pas La Fin”, which translates to “I do not know the end” is a sort of cover of the original Edith Piaf song, loosely translated to English from the French lyrics. 

Released in August of 1994, Grace is Jeff Buckley’s first and only complete studio album. Since his tragic passing on May 29, 1997, songs from projects titled Sketches for My Sweetheart The Drunk and You and I were released posthumously in 1998 and 2016, respectively. The original version of Grace, distributed by Columbia Records, features ten tracks. However, in 2004, Columbia decided to re-release a “legacy edition” of the album, featuring an eleventh track, "Forget Her", that was never intended to be released. The ethics of that decision are still heavily debated, as Buckley himself stated that he despised the song and did not want it on the album, despite Columbia’s original attempts to convince him to release the track. 

Grace opens with the hauntingly fervent track "Mojo Pin", inspired by a dream of Buckley’s. It’s title is a euphemism for an almost overwhelming sort of addiction to someone, to a point where you have to have them. The term “mojo” originated in the Southern United States in the 1920s, adapted from the Gullah word “moco”, referring to magic, and came to be used as slang for heroin and other drugs in the 1960s. I don’t think this track would have functioned nearly as well anywhere else in the album - it starts off softly, reaching a desperate crescendo by the end of song as Buckley lets his vocals soar with the repetition of “Black beauty, I love you so,” in tandem with an intense snare finish, driving in the sheer emotional power that is held through the duration of the album. 

Following “Mojo Pin” is the album’s title track, "Grace", which sounds completely different, yet still manages to encapsulate the same wretched yet hopeful yearning that is interwoven throughout the whole album. “Grace” was inspired by Buckley’s experience saying goodbye to his girlfriend at the airport. It explores the interplay between the struggle with the passing of time and the ways that love can carry a person through those difficulties. As Buckley croons “it’s my time coming, I’m not afraid / Afraid to die” in the first verse, it’s easy to see death as a sort of beautiful conclusion instead of a violent end. Listening to Grace very closely resembles a religious experience, at least for me. The cover of Leonard Cohen's 1984 "Hallelujah"  featured on the album brings this sentiment to a very literal level. While it isn’t my favorite song on the album, Buckley’s cover is the most beautiful rendition I’ve heard. It remains one of his most popular songs and for many, is a gateway into his music. 

Interestingly, three covers are featured on Grace. “Hallelujah” is known by the vast majority of listeners to be a cover, however "Lilac Wine" was composed by James Shelton in 1950 for the musical Dance Me A Song and "Corpus Christi Carol" is an English hymn written in the sixteenth century. Buckley’s version of “Corpus Christi Carol” is based specifically on an arrangement by Benjamin Britten. Both “Lilac Wine” and “Corpus Christi Carol” have become closely associated with Jeff Buckley as his personal sound still shines brightly through both songs, his unmistakable voice working beautifully with any variety of instrumentation. 

The juxtaposition of “Hallelujah” and “Lover, You Should’ve Come Over” immediately next to each other in the track list is a very clever sort of storytelling. Buckley’s cover of “Hallelujah” differs from others in that it doesn’t feel nearly as hymnal. The production is incredibly minimal, putting the width of Buckley’s vocal range on full display. It doesn’t feel like a church service so much as it is akin to finding yourself alone in a cathedral, reaching out from the depths of your soul to bathe yourself in the elusive notion of God’s love. It’s almost as if the music is trying to achieve some sort of salvation before it plunges into the heartbreaking ballad that is “Lover, You Should’ve Come Over”, a song that begs for forgiveness at the cost of mind, body, and soul. Much of Grace has its roots in Jeff Buckley’s relationship with Rebecca Moore, with some even considering her to be his muse. However, “Lover, You Should’ve Come Over” is most specifically about the end of their relationship. The track holds some of Buckley’s strongest songwriting, and quite frankly some of the best in history. “All my blood for the sweetness of her laughter” and “She’s the tear that hangs inside my soul forever” are some of my favorite lyrics out there. It’s a particularly gorgeous song on the record, but live, even if only seen through a decades-old recording, is soul-crushing. The performance Buckley did for JBTV Chicago in November of 1994 is forever seared into my mind. 

The conclusion of Grace has become a rather controversial topic due to the 2004 addition of “Forget Her” with the release of the Legacy Edition by Columbia Records. I enjoy the song independently, but I never listen to it as a part of the album. If  it was added at an earlier point in the tracklist it could debatably work, either between "Last Goodbye"  and “Lilac Wine” or between "So Real" and “Hallelujah”, though I believe Jeff Buckley’s original thought process on keeping it off the album was absolutely sound. The final two tracks, "Eternal Life" and "Dream Brother" on the other hand, tie up the album perfectly. 

“Eternal Life” is the ‘heaviest’ song on the album instrumentally, more aligned with a traditional rock song than anything else on Grace. It stands out considerably from the sounds on the rest of the album, even while those sounds are so wonderfully varied, but it does so well. Departing from the more autobiographical lyrics of many of the songs on the album, “Eternal Life” is focused on the struggles of being human, written as a product of Buckley’s anger, according to Genius over world events such as the assassination of Martin Luther King Jr, World War II, killings in Guyana, and more. It’s an expression of an anger shared by many at the time of its release, and an anger that many people today continue to feel as we see the horrendous effects of the Israel-Palestine conflict, the ongoing war in Ukraine, and feel the stress of the upcoming presidential election. “Dream Brother” is an ideal conclusion to Grace. The song serves as a warning in a sense, inspired by one of Buckley’s friends who left a pregnant girlfriend, telling him not to be like “the one who made me so old”, referencing his father, Tim Buckley, who only met his own son once and died of a drug overdose at 28. “Dream Brother” can serve as a reminder to us all to be accountable for our actions and allow ourselves to fully experience our emotions. 

The constant sense of raw and unbridled emotional vulnerability is what makes Grace what it is. I always do my best creative work after listening to some Buckley, because he’s an artist that can open you up and force you to dig into the depths of your psyche by means of song. That emotional vulnerability is the driving force behind Jeff Buckley’s ability to craft such enchantingly gut-wrenching music, and ultimately that is what every listener can take away from Grace. 

[moreespressoformydepresso]

re: ask game

⭐️ i would love to read your director’s commentary on When The Clock Stops Ticking (We'll Be Painted Red) :D

Oh boy what have you unleashed? I hope you have some time because I will not be able to contain myself to one thing this time.

I spent months on this fic, there is so much.

Instead of the doomed endeavor that is organizing this mess or singling out a single topic to talk about at length, I'm gonna go through the fic chronologically and pick the things most important to me. If you want more afterward, don't worry. I will have more.

So the opening and closing lines mirror each other, and fragments of it come back periodically so we'll start there. There's a lot of red imagery in here for fairly obvious reasons and some hidden double meanings. There will be a lot of that tbh. The more explicitly stated meaning is, of course, the usage of red as a euphemism and/or metaphor for blood. It's a way to show Treech's changing perception of the world as everything he's living through starts to affect him in both big and subtle ways. Hence why parts of that opening line keep popping up throughout the fic. While we're talking about that line, lets actually take a look at the wording:

"Blood coated the iron, colored the floor and the rubble, splattered his clothes."

The way it's written isn't really how a normal person would think on a day to day basis, is it? It's a lot more flowery, especially with the euphemism. It's almost like he's thinking about paint on a canvas in an art studio rather than Teslee's blood, which is intentional. He's using this language, this metaphoric description, in order to avoid acknowledging what it actually is. He doesn't want to think about the fact that he just killed someone or that he's about to kill someone else. Originally the fic was supposed to start a little later, right before he kills Lucy Gray, but I decided to move it back a little and start by introducing his current state. The first few paragraphs are slow, with Treech mostly considering his survival options and the unbearable heat. It's in part to introduce where we're at in the games and in part a way to show he's distancing himself from what he's about to do, which only becomes apparent at the mention of footsteps. It's only then that we realize he's about to attack Lucy Gray, who's introduced by her fluttering dress rather than her actual name or face. She's the rainbow songbird, a stage sensation, rather than the actual Covey girl who made it to the top 3 in the games. It's easier for Treech to reconcile killing someone whose face he can't see or whose identity he doesn't think about than it is to kill someone who he knows had a family waiting on them, and it's only later on that he lets go of that mentality, which we'll get back to.

Red comes back later when he drags Lucy Gray to Reaper's morgue, as it's the color of the flag. Treech doesn't explicitly call it out, but he does refer to the color of the flag as blood red, so that in combination with the euphemistic usage from earlier leads to imagery of the flag being a literal pool of blood. Panem is literally built on blood to the point where it's represented by it. It's symbolized by it. It's celebrated by it, as the anthem is sung to the flag, which is hung at every national celebration. Then we get another glimpse of whose blood is being spilled as Treech sees Lamina's body, from her red hair to the blood that spread out from her stab wound over the floor after her death. In turn, that red reminds him of Teslee, someone he killed himself. It's a chilling reminder to Treech that he grieves for Lamina over what happened to her, despite having done that exact thing to two other children, strengthening the guilt he already feels but is trying to ignore. Thoughout the entire fic, Treech consistently sees red as the color of blood and it haunts him, illustrated by the last sentence of the story:

"Blood coated the iron, colored the floor and the rubble, splattered his clothes. 

It drenched his hands, too."

It's the exact same sentence, with two key differences. Firstly, there's the adition of it drenching his hands, an obvious play on the saying "to have blood on one's hands" due to the three deaths he mentally attributes to himself. Secondly, there's no longer a euphemism. There's no more paint imagery, erasing the distance between Treech and the events of the story. It's a show of his loss of innocense (as he's no longer capable of making himself see it as just paint) the same way him no longer swinging his legs on the beams was. Reaper actually calls him out on the second one, playfully calling him a child, but that's why it's so important (to me) that I specifically call out that he no longer does it when he climbs back up after Reaper's death. Treech didn't know Teslee or Lucy Gray, but he did know Reaper. He didn't witness Lamina's death, only the aftermath, but Reaper died right in front of him. That combination kind of shatters him mentally, hence why he spends the last parts of the story so aimless and unfocused. I'll get back to that. Regardless, the one thing more powerful than a euphemism here is the lack of one, especially because Treech is very metaphorical in his thought process. He's an art kid who writes the plays his theater group performs, he even got his hands on some pre-Panem works, and I tried to let that be reflected in the way he thinks about the world. He draws lots of parallels to District 7 and there's lots of metaphors and euphemisms in his inner voice, that's just his usual way of being which he uses to deal with his situation. So when that all falls away for the hard truth, it shows he's lost part of who he is. There are metaphors in the ending paragraphs because it's such an integral part of who he is to describe the world like that, but in the end it's not how it used to be. There's a rawness now and while most of him is still him, in the end he's not the same person he was hours ago.

Now, aside from this obvious euphemism, red also has a symbolic meaning. It's a little dark in context to the story, but it's there. Red is, after all, the color of passion. The color of anger. The color of love. And these three things come back in the story quite a lot. Yes, Treech has killed Teslee and kills Lucy Gray, but he did it with as much compassion as he could. Both died quickly, with one life-ending strike of the axe. In the end, none of them deserved to go home any more or less than the others, and all of them fight just as passionately to get home. Every single tribute was trying to get someone home, whether that's themself or someone else. When Reaper lays dying, Treech tries everything to keep him alive despite knowing it's useless because he doesn't want to let go. He still has that drive to try, even when he knows it won't do anything. Treech is literally drenched in red in that scene as the blood seeps into his clothes and stains his hands and arms, which is both incredibly traumatizing imagery to him and a metaphoric representation of what he's feeling in the moment. He's too filled with passion to keep someone alive to really accept that he has to give up. He's also too filled with love. It's not very explicitly romantic between them, not like Meet Me In The Stars (When There's Nothing Left) was, but the undertones are definitely there. Think to the hyacinths Treech uses for Reaper's figurine. Specifically the myth of Hyacinth and Apollo. In that final scene, Treech loves Reaper too much to let him go and accept that he'll have to die. Several times, he basically begs the universe to give them even just a second longer together. Life is leaving Reaper's body and it's fueling Treech's fiery desire to keep fighting because to love is to lose and he's lost too much already. You can see it as platonic love or ignore the red metaphor entirely, but I won't. These two have my entire heart and they can keep it because I'm writing the Vipsania POV rn to create some setup for later.

Red is also the color associated with anger, which comes back in the fic too. Because while Reaper and Treech hide the bodies of the dead beneath the red flag as a show of respect and care, and while they spend their happy moments separated by it (one on each side of the flag, literally two kids and the love between them), they also rant over it. They sit on the beams, high above that sea of red, and spew venom at the unfairness of it all. At the pain they've had to endure. They fuel the flame of love in each other just as much as the flame of hate, because they understand each other. Treech bitterly talks about Vipsania the way he's wanted to all week, but didn't know who to talk about it to. Lamina's mentor was nice, and she'd been having a hard enough time already so he didn't wanna burden her with it. But Reaper? Reaper gets it. And he can see that Vipsania cares at least a little, but he doesn't push it because he understands. Just because she changed her mind doesn't erase the terrible way she treated him, and Reaper gets it. They understand each other's anger and they love each other all the more for it.

The flag here also encapsulates Treech's feelings on Vipsania as a whole, specifically the dichotomy between his care for her and his utter disgust and pain at what she's put him through. She let him starve to win the prize and Treech will never know for sure how much Vipsania did for him and how much she did for herself even when she did start to care, because not even she knows that. In everything I write, Vipsania has a long road of becoming a better person and most of it is spent convincing herself she's not doing it for him. In this universe, it's actually only at the end of the games that she admits to no longer giving a damn about the prize. It takes her watching him face death for five days straight to fully realize that over time it stopped being about winning and it started being about getting him home alive. The only real sign we get in the games is the water she sends him to stop Reaper from killing him, and that's entirely between the lines. He's not in the headspace to consider things and realize that Vipsania would have won the prize regardless of whether he lived or died. As Highbottom said, their survival isn't a necessity. Vipsania could've sat back and waited it out but instead tried what she could to save his life. The prize was hers, Treech had more sponsors that Reaper and has been far less controversial, and his beautiful singing won a lot of hearts, but Vipsania would have burned that prize if it got Treech out of the arena alive. It'll become more clear why she didn't do so again in that Vipsania's Version fic I'm working on. Regardless, Treech doesn't know that she cares about him, at least not for certain, so he's feeling very confused about her. He can acknowledge that she's changed over time, but that doesn't mean he has to like what she's done to him.

Red means a lot of things, and that contrast between the different interpretations that all work at the same time felt very fitting for me. It's kind of the theme of the whole stor, something can be beautiful and ugly at the same time. After all, the story is about love, romantic or not. Red is everywhere, and it's both the best thing in the arena and the worst thing. Love can be wonderful and it can be horrible, it hurts but it's worth it until it isn't. You wish you'd never felt it so the end wouldn't be so painful but at the same time you don't know how you'd have lived without it. If Treech wasn't so attached to Reaper his death wouldn't have hurt so much, but their time together meant so much to him. It showed him life's worth living, even if the loss that followed left him unsure of how to continue on. We live for the good moments, but they're what makes it hurt so much more when they end. That's honesly Treech's experience in a nutshell.

I can't believe I've gone this long just talking about a color what is wrong with me? I had a lot more to say but this is stupidly long so I'll go to the things I've already mentioned and try to wrap this up. I was gonna talk about my choice of timing and the stupid amount of foreshadowing in Reaper and Treech's conversation or the stuff I cut out but uhm... Maybe another day. I need to post this eventually after all if I discuss everything this post will take me as many months as the actual work took me.

So I mentioned before that Treech starts out removing himself from everything surrounding him by seeing everything in terms of the games and only the games. Lucy Gray is the rainbow girl, the girl from 12, the songbird, because that public, manufactured perception of her is a façade and he knows that. When he kills her, he's even further removed from reality by relating the snake she throws at him back to an everyday scenario back home. It's just another block of wood he's gotta hit, and Lucy Gray herself is just the lumber he works with on a daily basis. It's only when she's dead that he gets away from that thinking just enough to try and give her memory as much respect as he can, but despite that his descriptions of everything are flowery like he's writing a poem or a script to a shakespearian play. It's still doing it's damnest trying to avoid the harsh reality, even when he's face to face with it. It's a sort of shield he's built up over the course of the games that really solidified when Lamina died. If he goes cold, he can't break. However, once he and Reaper enter their awkward truce that ice he's grown around himself starts to melt and things get difficult, because as he lowers the shield he's gaining a friend, sure, but he's also leaving himself vulnerable. Reaper lets him forget the reality of their situation, but that means that when it comes crashing back in it's all the more painful. Over the course of his conversation with Reaper, the metaphors and flowery language stop being a constant shield and starts becoming an attempt to put into words all the ways in which Reaper makes him happy. So when Reaper dies, all he has left are his raw feelings with none of the pretty words to make them seem softer. He uses metaphors, but they're not artsy or pretty. Instead of kids games and the everyday life he found joy in back in 7, it's ice cold rivers and harsh winters that can easily take one's life. Instead of having fun climbing trees it's drowning in a frozen lake. And there are far fewer metaphors than before because Treech is too emotional to make it sound fancy. He's trying to process this but he can't and it's literally taking away who he is.

Finally, I want to point out that I put plenty of thought into all the times Treech nearly got himself killed in this story, because it will come up in that (far shorter) Vipsania's Version. Most of it will be focused on her complicated relationship with Treech and the guilt she feels for how focused she was on herself and stupid High School drama when she should have been worried about the literal child whose life she was responsible for, but the rest will be showing a more complete version of what happened than Treech can give. Specifically in regards to all the times he nearly got himself infected with rabies due to not being aware Reaper has it. There are moments where Treech nearly drinks from the same bottle as him and when they're sharing the apples one gets Reaper's saliva on it. It's only his insistence that Reaper keep it after his stomach growles that saves Treech. These moments go together with the slowly escalating symptoms Reaper is showing to make Vipsania tear her hair out worrying about him. Treech didn't know rabies was even in the equasion, so he's having a severe case of observer's bias here. Sure, Reaper is starting to behave a little eratically, but that could be the dehydration and heat. Treech has never experienced such severe heat before, so it's probably just something he doesn't understand. The loss of focus and confusion definitely tracks with Treech's own experience in this case, and the irritability... Well, they're in the hunger games. Of course Reaper's irritated! So to him nothing particularly bad is going on until the hallucinations because he doesn't have the information available to make rabies the most logical explanation, especially since that means Reaper is going to die and as I've explained Treech is having quite a case of denialism here.

The denial is part of the grieving process, which he's already going through at the start of the story and which he goes through again with Reaper. Once he's gone through the stages of disbelief, denial, anger, and bargaining (least explicit, it's the part where he's going through all the things he would do to get Reaper to stay with him), he ends up at depression. There's inklings of acceptance in the part where he starts singing, but after Reaper finally dies he goes right back to depression. Just mixed in with the guilt that's been popping up all throughout the story but has now involved into a whole state of being. It's not helped by the fact that he has enough grounds to blame himself here. Lamina, he couldn't have done much about without an alliance. Teslee he didn't know, so he can cling to the fact she'd have to die for him to live anyway no matter how guilt-stricken he is, but Reaper is the final straw. Because he didn't kill Reaper, but his friend killed himself specifically to protect him. So basically the guy did die because of him, even though he would have died anyway. That's a hard reality to accept, so Treech sticks with the part where Reaper's throat gets slit and doesn't have the emotional energy to think of much else. It's all too much for him. These past few days have been so draining on a deep emotional energy that his only relief was Reaper. Now that Reaper's gone, Treech now not only has a massive heap of extra guilt to deal with, he also has to deal with the many regrets he can't fix anymore. For example, the implied feelings Treech has for Reaper won't be resolved (in this timeline) and he's coming to terms with the fact that he'll never get to admit them and get closure. Reaper literally saved his life, by sacrificing himself but also by stopping him from accidentally catching rabies several times without knowing it. And Treech will never be able to thank him for it because Reaper is gone. All these kids are gone, and there's nothing Treech can do but wait to go back home and try to move on, so he kind of aimlessly wanders through the arena figuring out any way to give them respect because what else is he supposed to do?

His conversation with Reaper reminded him of all the ways in which these kids deserved to live, but it's too late. They're already dead, and all he can do is try and make sure they're remembered. So he uses every district funeral practice he knows of in an attempt to show them the respect they deserved, but also in a way to try and fill the void in his heart left by the loss he's just faced. To distract himself from the confusing emotions grief, guilt, and the general stress of the past few days have caused him to feel. His time with Reaper made him feel literally warm, and now that he's gone and night is falling, he's cold and going numb with shock as he's screamed out the emotions of the moment. He doesn't know what to do as he literally freezes up both physically and mentally, leaving him to try anything to pass the time in hopes he'll have figured it out once he's done. Spoilers, he doesn't figure it out. At the end of the story Treech is kind of out of it, almost more of a wandering ghost than the literal ghosts surrounding him.

Oh yeah btw if you really wanna hate me, there's some minor implications of ghosts. Reaper's when Treech cleans him up in the morgue and Lamina's when he's sitting alone on the beams and talking himself out of contemplated suicide.

Throughout the story, Treech refers to the arena as a tomb haunted by the ghosts of the other kids, and in the end it's almost like he's the one haunting the arena, detached from his body as he tries to process everything that's happened and come to terms with the fact that it's over now. There's no more maybe's left because everyone is dead. Even him, because while he's still breathing he's lost everything in the span of days and he's so riddled with grief and guilt that he'll have to build himself from the ground back up. Now that there aren't any threats left in the arena to worry about and he's gonna go home, he has to truly contend with the fact that he's the only one who made it out. Reaper, Dill, Lamina, Teslee, everyone, they all had families, and he's the only one who'll see theirs again. In the end the only thing that keeps him going is the fact that he's the soul survivor, so if he dies too it'll all have been for nothing. They'll all have died for nothing. Now he has to take that responsibility, no matter how tempting it is to give up and end himself so he won't have to deal with the emptiness anymore. Even when the what-ifs haunt his every thought and the memories will plague his nightmares, he has to keep going. It's a show that when Treech calls himself a selfish coward he's lying his ass off. Being a scared kid doesn't make him a coward, and while he may be tempted to do the selfish thing, he always chooses the selfless option in the end, which is the important part. He brought Lucy Gray to the morgue despite the dangers, he insisted Reaper take the water and food when he felt the other needed it more, and he stopped trying to save Reaper and instead tried to comfort him when he realized there was nothing he could do and Reaper deserved to be comforted in his last moments. Especially since Reaper didn't mind dying if it meant Treech got to live. And in the end, his motivation to keep going is entirely selfless. Even when he doesn't think he can handle living anymore, he keeps going for his family and for the other tributes. No matter how much Treech self-depricates, he proves himself wrong all throughout the story. I'll cap this post here because uhm... This is a lot, and although I could talk/type about this for ages I do have a sense of when a post gets too long, but as a nice little bonus gift have this cut piece of dialogue that I didn't feel fit quite right into the story, it's right after Treech tells Reaper about his late night sneaking and stealing with his friends:

"One time we defaced the peacekeeper barracks while we were at it.”

“Are you really admitting this on live camera?”

“Oh fuck uhm… Whoops? D’you think they can hear our conversation clearly?”

Against his slightly delusional hopes, Reaper nodded with a certainty that was impossible to go against. Even when, a second later, he suddenly looked a lot less certain for some reason. Looking around slightly dazedly, Treech searched for a little bit before his eyes fell over the camera. 

“H-Hey uhm… hey mom, and dad. I don’t know if you’re, like, watching but… Sorry about that. And sorry for worrying you.” He looked away from the camera for a second, contemplating the pros and cons of doubling down, before deciding this was as good a time as any to have a bout of teenage rebellion. “In my defense- The peacekeepers that caught us thought it was hilarious.”

“You were caught?!”

When he turned back to Reaper, he couldn’t help but feel slightly sheepish at the worried and exasperated look. Kind of like the look of a scolding parent, but with some confusion mixed in as a reminder that the other was also a kid who knew what standard peacekeeper behavior was like. 

“Ha, yeah, when we were almost finished. Technically they didn’t catch me, but I came out of my hiding spot once I realized they weren’t gonna shoot us on the spot. Solidarity with my buddies and all that.”

“I can’t believe they let you all get away with that!” Reaper exclaimed, with a voice that made it sound like he was having an actual crisis. 

“Well this was in the Fringe... It’s not like we were writing anything bad. Call it street-art in an… intentionally unfortunate place.” He smirked slyly. It melted off his face quickly though. “We only did it because we knew who was in those barracks. They don’t mind our antics. If anything, they found it even funnier than we did. If we’d tried it with anyone else…”

“You’re even ballsier than I thought you were. Won’t any of you get in trouble back home since you’re saying this?”

[best-overplayed-song]

Re: Take Me To Church in response to anon-- a take by someone who first heard it a bit After it came out at the age of 20, was concerned it was overhyped, and on listening had to admit that it was in fact good. (Also disclaimer, I've got less context about like, Irish/English history and stuff than OP so uhhhh sorry this is just gonna be my own personal vibecheck)

Tw: sex mention.

A lot of my feelings on the song are more related to this bit: Take me to church I'll worship like a dog at the shrine of your lies I'll tell you my sins, and you can sharpen your knife Offer me that deathless death and revolve around a. Possibly more sexual interpretation, so take that as you will (I was horny at 20 what can I say)

Okay first off let's talk about Why Church Is Horny. Religion and sex are both things that people often have a lot of feelings about. Christians specifically have even more feelings about sex, usually because they're saying it's bad. However, from a Catholic perspective, there's often a LOT of erotic imagery and stuff going on behind the scenes. See: lactating Jesus, saints' mysticism (for instance, Theresa of Avila, Catherine of Siena), and honestly just general medieval saints… people were SO horny for God. Plus, from an anti-sex Christian perspective, stuff still gets horny more often than you'd think. Milton was a Puritan, and that doesn't stop Paradise Lost from having originated Sexy Satan as a trope. All of which boils down to, coming from Christian, English-speaking cultural context a lot of your feelings about sex and religion, both of which carry enough baggage on their own, become intertwined.

So. All of that means you get the invocation of Christian stuff in the Bedroom anyway--lots of people say stuff like 'oh god' during sex, for instance. Think about the popularity too of the sexy nun trope, or even Destiel. A lot of people find desecration of the (Christian) holy, hot as shit, though it remains taboo.

For that reason! "Take Me To Church" being a song about sex?? About a woman referred to as a "lover," not a wife? Sex as worship? Get all those cultural hotbuttons pinged. (And that's just the first line we're looking at.)

I'll worship like a dog at the shrine of your lies Hoo boy. So, again, worship = sex? That's a lot as seen above. Invoking the dog imagery as part of deference to a woman also gets into stuff about gender roles, taboos, and the breaking thereof. There's a lot to unpack here-- deference of a man to a woman, of an animal to the holy, the admission that it is a shrine of lies, and tied into all that is the implied desire and consent to do these things. That's sexy!

I'll tell you my sins, and you can sharpen your knife Shame is a strong feeling-- one that comes up a lot when we look at this religion/sex network. Telling of sins evokes the Catholic sacrament of confession. And then we get to the knife. I don't know how to explain my interpretation of this without getting real kinky so uh, let's just say that pain and blood can have significant associations with both Christianity and sexuality, and the use of the knife thing in this context brings in Yet Another hot-button thing.

Offer me that deathless death I always just interpret this as euphemism for an orgasm. But! That's not to belittle it. Could a deathless death also be an assumption to heaven? In the context of the previous line(s), it takes on so many alternate connotations it's insane. Has he been stabbed for his sins? (That carried penetration imagery with it fyi.) Has he been forgiven his sins and gets to go to heaven? Or is it sexual release? With the ambiguity the song leaves, all three are possible, keeping up all those threads of violence/pain, shame, ecstasy, sex, divinity, submission… there's A LOT here.

Anyway I'm gonna stop there cuz this is too long. I don't even like this song THAT much, I'm just here to explain why people do.

OH YEAH AND PS: ADD TO ALL OF THIS THE SHAME/RELIGION/SEX FEELINGS AND ASSOCIATIONS CAUSED BY THE LISTENER BEING QUEER okay bye

I loved reading your interpretation! Thanks for the breakdown!

[donfadrique]

Part Two

4/🗡️

I'm in love with the screenplay (I hope I won't regret it later xD). It is close to the book and at the same time original; there is logic in it and there are no errors that could force historians to cover their ears; it is made for people with a sense of humor; the characters’ lines are like aphorisms; the screenplay is the backbone of the movie and makes it dynamic and interesting.

5/🗡️

So Diego returns home. He doesn’t know why his father needs him and thinks that nothing has changed in California during his absence. And we see that the true Diego is not only a brave cadet. The true Diego smiles nostalgically and charmingly in a tavern while listening to a local folk song. The true Diego is polite, but he is used to giving orders.

NB! Diego is dressed in expensive and beautiful traveling clothes not because he is pretending to be a fop, but because he is the son of the Mayor (Alcalde), His Excellency Don Alejandro.

6/🗡️

Having met Capitán Pasquale, Diego still does not wear the mask of a sissy. He asks the Capitán in a harsh tone what the hell is going on and why his house has turned into barracks. However, upon hearing that power in the city now belongs to the new mayor, who is supported by the military led by Pasquale, Diego forces himself to smile sweetly (Power perfectly portrays a man who has to think very quickly and change his style of behavior on the fly).

Capitán Pasquale, reveling in his power, is showing off in front of Diego, the son of the FORMER Alcalde, and his flattered chuckle in response to Diego’s remark "How can I refuse a man anything with a naked sword in his hand?" is especially noteworthy. (If any of you were waiting for ambiguous remarks and situations, then they got the first one of them. However, irony and "multi-layered" jokes are characteristic of the screenplay and make it so wonderful.)

I toy with the sword. Do you fancy the weapon? © Capitán Pasquale

You may see a double bottom in or not, but the idea of flirting (wittingly or unwittingly) was introduced by Capitán Pasquale. (And this was unexpected, yeah.)

NB! Looking straight ahead, Diego is frowning and worried, but turning his face to the Capitán, he smiles kindly. Thus, the viewer sees that Diego is pretending so as not to get into a trouble before meeting his parents.

The idea to portray a dandy is also not entirely Diego’s! By lying to Pasquale that he was not interested in weapons, Diego hid the fact that he was a duelist and a military man. When Inez Quintero, the wife of the corrupt Alcalde, enchanted by the handsome young caballero from Madrid, invites Diego to accompany her while she goes shopping, Diego instantly complements his new personality with new details, thus becoming a sissy and a fop.

Luis Quintero: That's one little peacock that won't give us any trouble.

Pasquale: You think not?

Flattering nickname "Cockerel" vs derogatory one "Peacock" — what an excellent play on words!

Luis Quintero: Ha-ha! The Capitán is jealous. The fop has pricked the fencing master. Touché.

The implication is that Diego has charmed Inez (whose lover the Capitán wants to become, and the Alcalde has to put up with it, so he's glad the Capitán has a rival).

So YES, in this movie the sword is not only a sword, but also a euphemism, a phallic symbol. (Nowadays they have almost forgotten how to joke so subtly, alas. They talk about sex rudely and directly, which is why this masterpiece is considered "old-fashioned".)

Well, Diego now needs to try to charm and fool Pasquale (while Diego himself is enchanted by the young Lolita).

It's funny how Rathbone managed to sit on the table in such cavalry boots, and sit elegantly! He was a very talented person :)

7/🗡️

Wow, Lolita is interested in Diego, but Inez tells her to calm down and not rush to get married, otherwise she will send Lolita to a convent. Everyone is competing for Diego's attention 😏

8/🗡️

Don Alejandro says "Two wrongs don't make a right". He refuses to go against the government he served for 30 years. He refuses to break the law the way local authorities do. In addition, Don Alejandro understands that the caballeros' uprising will be easily suppressed by the soldiers. But Fray Felipe is indignant, and when Diego pretends to be indifferent, the Fray is disappointed in him.

Fray Felipe: To think that the boy that I helped to raise, the boy that I taught to hold a firm wrist behind a true point, has turned into a puppy! Bah!

Don Diego Vega: Well! Tsk, tsk, tsk! How vexatious!

[roman-cates]

"… What do you mean when you say you try to rest 'between jobs'? What's considered 'a job'? Maybe that's not a question you can tell me the answer to, I know…"

Bryce smiles a little at Roman's ability to ask questions.

"Not in great detail, but generally I can. It's still a tough question to answer. I personally tend to think of one job as a contract that takes either a certain amount of time -- This job, right now, I'm here til January. Doing a lot of shit during that time, but if Boss wants me beyond then we'll re-negotiate. Or it goes until a problem is solved or a deal is made. If it's a deal, I'll work on commission, otherwise it's generally a flat fee."

That's not really what he was asking, though. Bryce thinks for a second.

"I solve problems." These days, a problem is usually not even a euphemism for 'person'. "So far this year I've helped negotiate deals, pointed out flaws in infrastructure type plans and provided alternative ideas," listened to Boss bitch about the politics of keeping everyone happy behind the scenes, kept notes on Mal -- the real reason I was called out here, "Tracked down Avery twice, and thrown my name around to intimidate a lot of people. Among other things."

Previous

"Not in great detail, but generally I can. It's still a tough question to answer. I personally tend to think of one job as a contract that takes either a certain amount of time -- This job, right now, I'm here til January. Doing a lot of shit during that time, but if Boss wants me beyond then we'll re-negotiate."

He tends to think of jobs that way? So it's not really something that's clearly defined? Here til January... Is that what he had been referring to when he brought Roman here originally? He had said something about six months, hadn't he?

"Or it goes until a problem is solved or a deal is made. If it's a deal, I'll work on commission, otherwise it's generally a flat fee. I solve problems. So far this year I've helped negotiate deals, pointed out flaws in infrastructure type plans and provided alternative ideas, tracked down Avery twice, and thrown my name around to intimidate a lot of people. Among other things."

Roman nods a little. He's not really sure what to do with all of that information. It's quite a bit more than he honestly expected to be told. It's interesting, though.

"So..." Roman furrows his eyebrows a little, thinking. "Are you, like... part of the mafia? Or is this something unrelated to that— some other crime syndicate..?" Is that even the right word? How many of those are there? Are they all technically included under the umbrella term of mafia? Is mafia an umbrella term?

[vidavalor]

I love this scene. Yes, eyebrows out of control lol and love the braid. I so hope we come back to this in The Finale for the vavoom. Those are some gorgeous gifs.

And re: Az's wiggling-- all of your above! and also probably "ok, fine, I probably should also think of a new flirty pun." 😂 I think that the "it's ineffable" of Eden was a more clever version of the attempted word flirting of Maggie's paralleling "stripadeliveragram" moment that then, we can see, developed into a recurring joke, the way that things from first meetings and early dates tend to.

Ineffable technically means unable to spoken or expressed aloud but it's also developed a meaning of that which is unknowable. The Biblical euphemism for sex of to know originating with Adam & Eve makes the "ineffable" joke beginning in Eden even funnier. In the word is also 'eff', slang for to fuck, and all of that together is Aziraphale being all 'yes, The Great Plan is massively unfuckable/unsexy' as a way of flirting with Crowley.

Crowley would have appreciated that more in the moment in Eden if his clever brain hadn't evaporated checking out that enormously effable angel.

By The Flood, we see that Aziraphale has kept at it with this one, to the point that it's a recurring joke and Crowley is all "are you going to say 'ineffable'?" It's shorthand meaning 'Heaven's unsexy and irritating lunacy' to them and has stayed in rotation for thousands of years, with them using it that way in 1827, as well. Additionally, there's another thing it came to mean in real life, though.

In the 1800s, the word ineffables was slang for trousers for a time until it, along with the word inexpressibles, became wealthy lady slang for small clothes/underwear. It also existed across the pond, where wealthy American women would refer to these as unmentionables.

The etymology of how these women came to refer to these garments this way is unknown but the popular consensus is that, as unnecessarily precious as these church-going ladies were being, they were also being slyly quite clever, since they all knew that Biblical meaning of know and then were going around calling underwear ineffables-- barriers to, ah, getting to know someone.

I'd bet heavily that, in the Good Omens world, that was all started by Aziraphale. 😂 At minimum, he and Crowley adopted the slang of ineffables meaning underwear and lingerie, even if they both have some very effable ineffables. You know they're still using it into today... My dear, if you are looking for the lovely things you wore earlier in the week, they are on the drying rack. I took the liberty of conducting an ineffables cycle earlier today.

GOOD OMENS "Hard Times"

[just-here-for-the-moment]

FRIEND!!

May I humbly request Pero Tovar and "every inch of you is the most beautiful thing God ever created."

Heat level up to you.

Thankyou!

YES!! You absolutely may request it, and I hope that you're okay with me turning it into Part 2 of The Innkeeper's Daughter, because, damn... I'm loving that man!!

The Innkeeper's Daughter, Part 2

One MILLION "thank yous" to @fandom-blackhole who let me take inspiration from This Ask for the original Anon and This follow-up Ask from me, and let me run wild with the premise of Pero Tovar falling in love with a woman who works at an inn.

The Innkeeper’s Daughter, Part 2

Part 1

Word count: 3000+

Rating: Explicit, 18+ only

Outline: Pero Tovar x “You” (OC cis/het female reader, “blank canvas”/no physical description/no use of “Y/N”)

Warnings: Reader’s first time (but this is NOT meant to be a ‘virgin kink’ fic); mature and vulgar language; euphemisms; slow-burn; Pero Tovar being super sexy and caring; kissing; vaginal fingering; oral sex/F receiving; unprotected P/V sex; a little bit of morning-after insecurity on Reader’s part

You broke the kiss and leaned your head back against the wall, breathing heavily and thoughts running wild. Pero’s face was still so new to you, up close. You were learning to read him better. His stony scowl seemed to make up the bulk of his expressions, and other than the pure hatred and anger that had twisted his face after the other man had called you a ‘whore,’ he only seemed to have a softer version of the scowl. On anyone else you would have called it a frown, but on Pero it practically registered as a glow.

You looked up into his eyes as he brought one of his broad thumbs to your cheek to sweep away a tear.

“I have to finish serving the customers. I can’t leave Father alone on a Saturday night.” You kissed him again, and then another before you found the strength to pull yourself away again. “But I want to see you tonight. After I’m done.”

Pero nodded and tilted your chin up with his calloused fingers. “Tonight. I will come to your room.” He kissed you deeply, then scattered a trail of kisses up your nose to your forehead. He pressed his lips to the top of your head and then murmured. “Until then, mi alma.”

You broke the embrace reluctantly, steadying yourself with a sigh as you walked away, smoothing your apron down. You looked back once at Pero where he stood at the end of the hall. His face looked soft, and the hint of a smile tugged at one corner of his mouth as he gazed at you. You fought the urge to abandon your post and run back to him, and you lifted your fingers in a little wave as you re-entered the barroom.

Thankfully all of the guests had returned to their own affairs, resuming their raucous drinking and eating, the bar brawl entirely forgotten. Your father looked at you with an arched eyebrow and you smiled and shook your head, reassuring him that you were fine. You busied yourself with attending to customers, tucking coins into your pockets and ferrying empty plates and mugs to the kitchen.

Your chest ached every time you inhaled, desperate for the evening to end, to see if Pero would fulfill his promise of coming to your room. You weren’t nervous, far from it - you were eager and willing and excited. You weren’t a high-born lady, required to keep her maidenhead intact in order to form an alliance with some prince. You just hadn’t had the opportunity yet. None of the young men in the village had been interesting enough for you to want to steal away to a hayloft or secluded part of the forest with. But Pero… he was different. Mysterious and well-traveled, closed-off until he had bared his soul to you in the back passage. You were ready, well past an age where you could make up your own mind, and you had said yes, grasped the opportunity to lay with a man who excited you.

You weren’t sure exactly what would happen after tonight, whether Pero would stay in the village or leave, ask you to come along with him or insist that you stay put. You dared not think too far ahead, letting your immediate tasks occupy you as the conversations of the guests flowed, filling your head with a buzz that blessedly distracted you from the clenching and throbbing in your gut.

Finally, after what seemed like eons, the last customers dribbled out of the door, laughing and shouting their way down the lane. You washed the final stack of dishes, wiped the tables, and handed Father the last of the coins from your pocket. Your beaded brow had nothing to do with the exertion of your labor, and everything to do with thoughts of the handsome Spaniard who had promised you a visit.

You fairly flew to your room at the top of the stairs, discarding your soiled apron and dress. You poured fresh water into your basin, adding a few dried summer wildflowers from the sachet in your drawer, and used part of a cake of fine soap that Father had gifted you at Christmas. It was nothing like the exquisite ointments or fancy perfumes that ladies used, but when you were done your face and body were scrubbed clean, and you were certain that Pero would be enamored of your efforts. He had noticed your dress, after all.

You donned your cleanest nightdress and then hesitated. Should you get into bed, or sit in your side chair? You decided to tuck yourself under the covers and read for a bit by the lamp. You heard no noises from the rest of the house, though you listened with eager ears, only half-attentive to your book. Time dragged on interminably. Just as you were growing a bit drowsy, you heard a tap at your door. Your pulse raced and you swung your legs out of bed, dashing the few steps to the door.

“Who is it?” You whispered.

“Pero, mi alma.”

You swung the door open, beaming up at him. You reached one hand out to take his and pulled him into the room, almost not believing that he had come. But as you closed the door and he crowded you against it to kiss you again, you sunk into the reality of it. He was here, he was real, he was yours.

You felt a sense of urgency, the desire to pull him into your bed immediately and get right to lovemaking. But you fought against the urge to hurry, tried to memorize every one of Pero’s kisses as he held you tight between him and the door, one large arm wrapped around your waist while the other cupped your jaw tenderly. You found yourself almost whimpering as he kissed you, his tongue sweeping your mouth with passion. This was heaven. If this is how men made love, you could get used to this.

At length, Pero pulled away from you, gazing deep into your eyes. “Mi alma… you are a maiden, yes?”

You nodded, feeling suddenly shy. He had guessed as much in the hall downstairs, telling you that he would show you everything you needed to know, show you how to please a man. Now that it was a matter of actual discussion, your lack of experience felt like a burden. Would you be able to please him? Would he still be in love with you if you were clumsy or awkward?

Pero tilted your chin up and spoke low, serious in tone. “I will be gentle. It may hurt at first, but after that you will feel great pleasure. I will make sure of it.”

You breathed a sigh of relief, realizing that Pero’s question wasn’t meant to embarrass you, but rather to ensure that you would be comfortable and safe. Your shyness ebbed away, replaced by a glowing pride that you had chosen such a careful man to be your first.

“I trust you, Pero. I am ready.” You smiled and leaned up to kiss him once more. He stepped back and you took his hand to lead him to your bed. He sat on the edge and you paused for a moment.

“Should I put the lamp out?”

Pero shook his head, that gentle smile tugging at the corner of his mouth once more. “No, mi alma. Leave it lit. I want to see you.”

And there was that eagerness again, your heart pounding against your ribs as Pero took your hand and pulled you to stand between his knees where he sat. He placed both hands on your hips and gazed up at you with the same expression of hunger that you had seen on his face downstairs when he professed his love in the passageway. A quiet moment stretched long and sacred between you.

Pero dropped his hands to the hem of your nightdress and lifted it, looking up at you for permission. You nodded and he pulled it higher, skating the material against your thighs and hips, until it reached your waist. You took the fabric in your hands and lifted it up and off your head, dropping it on the floor at the foot of the bed. You felt as if you should be shy, but you couldn’t find it in yourself. The way that Pero gazed at you, the way his hands stroked from your thighs to your hips to your waist, the fact that you could see his erection straining against the thin material of his trousers - it made you feel powerful and special.

Pero wrapped one of his hands around to cup your butt, bringing you closer against him. You draped your hands over his strong shoulders. He cupped one breast and brought his mouth to the nipple, licking and then suckling against you, his tongue hot against your skin. You felt desire stirring, a throbbing between your legs that mirrored your heartbeat. You tangled your fingers in his hair and moaned softly.

“Oh, Pero. That feels wondrous.”

He let go of your ass and brought his hand to your front, softly stroking your thigh and nudging your legs apart. He cupped his hand there, holding it firmly against your sex, and you nearly wailed at the sensation, the delicious contrast of Pero working his mouth at the same time that his hand was touching you so intimately.

You closed your eyes and threw your head back, feeling his fingers explore you. He stroked your center softly with his largest finger, bringing wetness forth and then pushing it back between your folds. You felt your pleasure building, something below your navel twisting itself higher. Then Pero’s finger found your sensitive bud and he began circling it, building the pressure until you felt the dam burst. You brought the back of your hand up to your mouth and stifled a moan as you felt your cunt throb and quiver, stealing your breath and sending your head reeling.

As the sensation began to slow, you felt Pero stroke you again and then insert his finger up into your folds. It felt amazing, like it belonged there. He probed you gently and then pushed it further in. You felt the breath return to your lungs and then you looked down at him. He released his mouth from your breast and placed a kiss to your stomach.

“Is this alright, mi alma? Am I hurting you?”

You shook your head. “No, Pero. It felt good. It feels good.”

He smiled and then released you. “Lay down for me.”

You lay in the center of your small bed, looking up at him expectantly as he stripped his tunic off. You nearly gasped at his beauty, his golden skin marred by scars, his broad shoulders muscled after hours and hours of fighting. And when he peeled his pants down from his narrow hips, you were astonished at his cock, bobbing proudly up and erect. You wondered again at your lack of shyness, finding only that you felt womanly, proud of the way that his body was making his desire for you so apparent.

Pero kneeled on the bed next to you and surprised you by peppering kisses across both of your ankles and shins. His soft scruff tickled your skin, and you giggled at the sensation of it.

You reached a hand out to touch his shoulder. “Pero, what are you doing?”

He paused and looked at you, "Every inch of you is the most beautiful thing God ever created." Pero laid a kiss to one kneecap and then the other, continuing his trail up your thighs. “It would be a grave sin if I failed to worship every inch of you with my lips, mi alma.”

He kissed across your belly and ribs, your arms and breasts, and finally came to a stop at your lips. When you tangled your fingers in his hair, he brought his hand once again to stroke your sex, bringing a moan from you that he matched with his own deep growl.

He pulled away and positioned himself near your knees.

“Open your legs for me. I want to kiss you there, mi alma.”

You smiled at Pero and shifted your knees apart, watching his face grow darker with lust as your legs fell open. He whispered a few words in his native Spanish and licked his lips before leaning down. The first laps of his tongue were gentle, and you watched him close his eyes in satisfaction. His tongue grew more insistent, and you soon closed your own eyes, biting your lip to keep quiet as you tossed your head back in ecstasy.

Pero worked his tongue across your sensitive bundle of nerves, pausing only to insert two fingers into you before he continued to lick you with vigor. You felt your climax building again. With a few strokes of his fingers inside of you, Pero brought you to the precipice before your pleasure overtook you, throwing you over the edge as you clenched hard around his thick fingers.

When you opened your eyes, you found him gazing up at you, lazily stroking your hip before dipping his head to place a kiss there.

He shifted himself to kneel between your legs, stroking his proud length a few times. You looked up at him through your haze of desire, reaching your arms up to circle around his neck where he leaned over you. He dipped his head to kiss you once.

“Open your legs very wide for me, hmm?”

You nodded and propped your feet wide apart, knees bent up. You felt Pero position himself against your folds, then a slight pressure as he entered you, stopping just inside. He searched your face as you took two deep breaths and nodded up at him, encouraging him to continue. He slotted his mouth against yours, tongue working deep into you as he slid his cock inside of you the rest of the way. You inhaled sharply through your nose as Pero continued to kiss you. It did feel painful, but the feeling lessened as he moved inside of you and back out.

Pero pressed his forehead against yours. “Are you alright, mi alma? The first time is the worst. After this you will only feel pleasure.”

“I’m alright, Pero,” you whispered. “It did hurt but it’s getting better. Keep going, my love.”

He kissed you again and kept his pace even, thrusting into you again and again. As the pain ebbed away you started to feel another pressure building, and this time you knew what would happen when the dam broke.

You closed your eyes and let the feeling of Pero’s cock brushing against your sensitive bud carry you into your third climax. At the first throb and clench, Pero buried himself deep and stayed there, reaching one hand down to thumb at your clit. The thrumming in your core intensified, and a deep groan issued from Pero’s throat at the feeling of you squeezing around him. This third climax was the best one yet, slow and steady, and you felt it from your scalp to your toes. You wanted it to last forever, and you were sad when it burned itself out with a whisper.

Pero kissed you deeply, then nudged your chin up with his nose to place kisses along the column of your throat.

“Better, mi alma?”

“Yes,” you whispered. “So good.”

Pero hummed against your skin and then thrust into you a handful of times more before he unsheathed himself and sat back on his heels. His face was intense, almost a scowl as he stroked himself to completion, catching his spend in his open palm.

He unfolded his legs and crossed to your basin, wiping his hand on your damp linen washcloth before coming back to where you lay on the bed.

“Do you want me to stay, or to go, mi alma?”

You sat up and reached a hand out to him. “Please stay.”

The next day dawned bright and sunny, the light from the thin curtains streaming across your face. You smiled at the warmth of it, mirrored by the warmth of Pero’s bulk pressed against your back, his solid arm slung over your midsection. Were it not for waking to his presence, last night might have been a dream.

You rolled over to face him, finding his face relaxed. You pressed a kiss to his soft mouth.

“Pero,” you whispered. “Wake up.”

He cracked one eye open and grunted at you. You laughed softly and kissed him again.

“Was I good?” You whispered to him. “Last night, I mean? Were you happy?”

Pero opened both eyes in surprise and regarded you with confusion. “Yes, mi alma. But why are you asking me that?”

You felt a bit shy but answered him honestly. “I was worried. I thought that if I was not experienced at coupling with you, that you- well… you might not be pleased, and you would fall out of love with me.”

Pero sat up and pulled you to rest against his chest. You heard his heart beating and closed your eyes. He would not be doing this if he were displeased. He would not have stayed the night with you.

“I told you in the passageway, mi alma, that I had fallen in love with you. But that was not the truth.”

Your breath caught in your throat. If that was a lie, then why had he come to you in the night? Why had he done those things with you?

Pero continued, “The truth is that I fell even more in love with you last night, when you gave yourself to me so openly and let me bring you pleasure. If you will let me, I will spend the rest of my life between your legs, mi alma. I want nothing more than to pleasure you every day for the rest of my life.”

Tears sprang to your eyes. Was he proposing marriage?

“Pero, I-”

“Mi alma, if you will have me, I want to be your husband.”

You drew your head back and looked up into his deep brown eyes. His face was the most open and relaxed you had ever seen it, the scowl entirely wiped from his visage.

“Yes, Pero. Yes.”

He released a breath you didn’t realize he had been holding, and then Pero rolled you down into the sheets to kiss you with abandon.

---

Pero Tovar character masterlist

Main Masterlist

“Everything bagel” tag list: @quica-quica-quica @anaaaispunk @justanotherblonde23 @gracie7209 @nicolethered @honestly-shite @driedgreentomatoes @dihra-vesa @1800-fight-me @the-queen-of-fools @juletheghoul @kesskirata @honeymandos @silverwolf319 @mourningbirds1 @greeneyedblondie44 @spacedilf @maxwell–lord @anxiousandboujee @cevvie @sherala007 @writeforfandoms @libellule2001 @deadhumourist @mandoalorian @javierpinme @eri16 @mandocrasis @pilothusband @bastillealmighty @eri16 @jitterbugs927 @babiiface95 @toomanystoriessolittletime @yespolkadotkitty @fisforfulcrum @prettylilhalforc @mswarriorbabe80 @littlemisspascal @wildemaven @coreychick @castleamc @coreychick @astoryisaloveaffair

[hesgomorrah]

actually my favourite thing about world game is that it avoids one of my biggest pet peeves when it comes to characterizing two: the artifical catchphrase.

in his original run, he was prone to all sorts of minced oaths and euphemisms, some more colourful than others. you had your occasional "great jumping gobstoppers", but imo the closest thing he had to a catchphrase was simply "oh my word".

but then he was flanderized in later expanded universe content and re-appearances on tv (which i think actually worked in other regards, at least as far as the multi-doctor stories are concerned, but that's a whole separate post), and now it's all "oh my giddy aunt" and "oh crumbs", despite the fact that i can't actually think of a specific time he said either of those phrases in his own seasons off the top of my head (but i remember him saying them back to back at one point in the two doctors). i don't have a problem with him saying them ever, that would be silly, but some writers tend to push it way too hard.

so i was pleasantly surprised to see that in world game he gets to say things like "jumping jehosaphat" and "botheration". it makes for a nice change of pace.