#somebody find me a guillotine

[deeisace]

In the paper today, something or other about how in April min wage is gonna be £11

Oh thank you Tories for putting it up by like 20p extra than it normally goes up by every year, thank you soooo much for an extra fiver a week

Not even that, actually, to my mind min wage generally goes up by like 50p a year, or it has done in the past, and that's a jump of, wait for it, 58p

woooow (incredible sarcasm)

[eskymoos]

Levi Ackerman As a Romantic Partner

Headcanons by Eskimos

Levi Ackerman is the Captain of the scouts.

Of course he will have high expectations of you. His eyes are always on the target and his strength never fails. However, he knows to keep you close during every mission. Regardless of whether his behavior betrays it, his heart beats for you. Levi would sooner put himself under a guillotine blade than let anything or anybody hurt you.

He's also the type to hold a long speech to you about how you're using your ODM gear wrong and then, when you finally get the chance to shine, he will fly past you and slash three titans at once. Is he doing it for the safety of everybody or just to impress you? That remains a mystery.

Levi Ackerman is Humanity's Strongest soldier.

He doesn't crow about his strength. Nobody questions it because it's a fact. What's more, you've seen both sides of the coin. Levi implements harsh, disciplinary methods on young, delinquent soldiers. Sometimes he even punishes them physically. You might catch the Captain in the hallway dragging somebody like a ragdoll by their hair or kicking the back of their knee to trip them and the next moment you're in his office doing your work alongside him while his fingers rest in your hair. The same fingers that just tormented somebody tangle in your hair and mess it affectionately. You know how to find comfort in his cold presence. In fact, you know he would turn the Earth inside out if something were to happen to you.

Levi Ackerman is a member of the exiled Ackerman clan.

Levi is many things and definitely not proud of his origins. He knows a thing or two about how the Ackerman clan came to be and why it's so despised. The only reason he chooses to associate himself with the name is because it reminds him of the first person he ever truly loved- his mother. Or, well, that used to be the explanation before you stepped into his life. Now he daydreams about making you an Ackerman. His partner until death does you apart. In his eyes, the shame is all gone because you're his other half and he would happily make that bond eternal.

Levi Ackerman is a hyper ultra mega clean freak.

His room? Spotless? His office? Shining clean.

Hygiene is a thing he will never ever overlook (his past can explain that mania). There's nothing more enjoyable than a deep clean and a fresh start.

However, there's a secret he will never tell anybody. Your disorganization and chaotic, aimless persona holds some charm that he never expected to find in the first place. Yes, he certaintly won't be encouraging a filthy work space but you being the polar opposite can give him butterflies and gradually drive him mad. Before you know it, his entire mind is a mess because of you and you don't even suspect a thing.

If you're a clean freak like him, then you're undeniably the soulmate he yearns for. Levi's obsession can only grow deeper if he sees a reflection of his own ideas in you.

Levi Ackerman is a murder weapon.

Having been recruited from a young age to serve Erwin, Levi is very much used to the blood bath that comes with his job. He is ruthless from the core of his beating heart. If justice stands behind violence, then he won't mind being the bad guy even if it ruins an innocent life.

Things are not so black and white behind closed doors. If you're the lucky person who owns his heart and soul, you will have the honor of receiving limitless amount of devotion from the depths of his eyes. His touch will always be gentle and his words- thoughtful. He will always be a shoulder to cry on and a shelter to stand under.

Even during more intimate moments, his focus will be entirely on you and the gentleness of his actions will make your head spin.

''Deep breaths, come on.''

''Eyes on me.''

''That's it. Just like that.''

Levi Ackerman is human. More human than people think.

There are days when things just get too much. And when the world is too loud and all burdens weigh on his shoulders, he will find you and keep you close.

Levi is confirmed to be a very emotional character. Even his silence speaks volumes when he sits beside you, arms and legs crossed and his head resting on your shoulder. He will relish you and worship these bits of tranquility that he rarely gets.

Levi Ackerman is an insomniac.

His nights are a hellish loop. Memories, work, plan-making, strategies. The man doesn't have it easy. You are the antidote for all his problems. When you sleep near him, even if you've passed out in his office, he will observe you and take care of you to the best of his capabilities. The sight of a loved one being at peace heals all his scars and suddenly he feels like he is dreaming.

''Huh-- Levi, are you alright?''

''Go to sleep,'' he'd murmur, looking into your tired eyes. ''I am here. Sleep.''

And it's true. He is always there. He always will be.

Levi Ackerman is short.

And he wishes there was a way to change that. It's an insecurity he can't mask so easily but it doesn't affect him too strongly. Truth is, building a healthy relationship with you will only fuel his desire to demonstrate other good traits. For example, if you're struggling to reach something he will walk behind you and position his cold, slender hands on your waist just to lift you up and help out. He's short, yes, but outstandingly intelligent.

Levi Ackerman? He is like no other.

[newskin4theoldceremony]

DARKNESS AT THE BREAK OF NOON SHADOWS EVEN THE SILVER SPOON THE HANDMADE BLADE THE CHILDS BALLON ECLIPSE BOTH THE SUN AND MOON TO UNDERSRAND YOU KNOW TOO SOON THERE IS NOW SENSE IN TRYING POINTED THREATS THEY BLUFF WITH SCORN SUICIDE REMARKS ARE TORN FROM THE FOOLS GOLD MOUTHPIECE THE HOLLOW HORN PLAYS WASTED WORDS PROVES TO WARN THAT HE NOT BUSY BEING BORN IS BUSY DYING TEMPTATIONS PAGE FLIES OUT THE DOOR YOU FOLLOW FIND YOURSELF AT WAR WATCH WATERFALLS OF PITY WAR YOU FEEL TO MOAN BUT UNLIKE BEFORE YOU’D DISCOVER THAT YOU’D JUST BE ONE MORE PERSON CRYING SO DON’T FEAR IF YOU HEAR A FORIEGN SOUND TO YOUR EAR ITS ALRIGHT MA I’M ONLY SIGHING AS SOME WARN VICTORY SOME DOWNFALL PRIVATE REASONS GREAT OR SMALL CAN BE SEEN IN THE EYES OF THOSE WHO CALL THAT MAKE ALL THAT SHOULD BE KILLED TO CRAWL WHILE OTHERS SAY DON’T HATE NOTHING AT ALL EXCEPT HATRED DISILLUSIONED WORDS LIKE BULLETS BARK AS HUMAN GODS AIM FOR THEIR MARK MAKE EVERYTHING FROM TOY GUNS THAT SPARK TO FLESH COLORED CHRISTS THAT GLOW IN THE DARK IT’S EASY TO SEE WITHOUT LOOKING TO FAR THAT NOT MUCH IS REALLY SACRED WHILE PREACHERS PREACH OF EVEIL FATES TEACHERS TEACH THAT KNOWLEDGE WAITS CAN LEAD TO HUNDRED DOLLAR PLATES GOODNESS HIDES BEHIND ITS GATES BUT EVEN THE PRESIDENT OF THE UNITED STATES SOMETIMES MUST HAVE TO STAND NAKED AND ALTHOUGH THE RULES OF THE ROAD HAVE BEEN LODGED ITS ONLY PEOPLES GAMES YOU GOT TO DODGE AND ITS ALRIGHT MA I CAN MAKE IT ADVERTISING SIGNS THAT CON YOU INTO THINKING YOURE THE ONE THAT CAN DO WHATS NEVER BEEN DONE THAT CAN WIN WHATS NEVER BEEN WON MEANWHILE LIFE OUTSIDE GOES ON ALL AROUND YOU YOU LOSE YOURSELF YOU REAPPEAR YOU SUDDENLY FIND YOUVE GOT NOTHING TO FEAR ALONE YOU STAND WITH NOBODY NEAR WHEN A TREMBLING DISTANT VOICE UNCLEAR STARTLES YOUR SLEEPING EARS TO HEAR THAT SOMEBODY THINKS THEY REALLY FOUND YOU A QUESTION IN YOUR NERVES IS LIT YET YOU KNOW THERE IS NO ANSWER FIT TO SATISFY ENSURE YOU NOT TO QUIT TO KEEP IT IN YOUR MIND AND NOT FORGET THAT IT IS NOT HE OR SHE OR THEM OR IT THAT YOU BELING TO BUT THOUGH THE MASTERS MAKE THE RULES FOR THE WISE MEN AND THE FOOLS I GOT NOTHING MA TO LIVE UP TO FOR THEM THEY MUST OBEY AUTHORITY THAT THEY DO NOT RESPECT IN ANY DEGREE WHO DESPISE THEIR JOBS THEIR DESTINY SPEAK JEALOUSY OF THEM THAT ARE FREE DO WHAT THEY DO JUST TO BE NOTHING MORE THAN SOMETHING THEY INVEST IN WHILE SOME ON PRINCIPLES BAPTIZED TO STRICT PARTY PLATFORM TIES SOCAIL CLUBS IN DRAG DISGUISE OUTSIDERS THEY CAN FREELY CRITICIZE TELL NOTHING BUT WHK TO IDOLIZE AND SAY GOD BLESS HIM WHILE ONE WHO SINGS WITH HIS TONGUE ON FIRE GARGLES IN THE RAT RACE CHOIR BENT OUT OF SHAPE FROM SOCIETYS PLIERS CARES NOT TO COME UP ANY HIGHER BUT RATHER GET YOU DOWN IN THE HOLE THAT HES IN BUT I MEAN NO HARM NOR PUT FAULT ON ANYONE THAT LIVES IN A VAULT BUT ITS ALRIGHT MA IF I CAN PLEASE HIM OLD LADY JUDGES WATCH PEOPLE IN PAIRS LIMITED IN SEX THEY DARE TO PUSH FAKE MORAL INSULT AND STARE WHILE MONEY DOESNT TALK IT SWEARS OBSCENITY WHO REALLY CARES PROPAGANDA ALL IS PHONY WHILE THEM THAT DEFEND WHAT THEY CANNOT SEE WITH KILLERS PRIDE SECURITY IT BLOWS THE MIND MOST BITTERLY FOR THEM THAT THINK DEATH’S HONESTY WON’T FALL UPON ‘EM NATURALLY LIFE SOMETIMES MUST GET LONELY MY EYES COLLIDE HEAD ON WITH STUFFED GRAVEYARDS FALSE GOALS I SCUFF AT PETTINESS WHICH PLAYS SO ROUGH WALKED UPSIDE DOWN INSIDE HANDCUFFS KICK MY LEGS TO CRASH IT OFF SAY OKAY I’VE HADE ENOUGH WHAT ELSE CAN YOU SHOW ME AND IF MY THOUGHT DREAMS CAN BE SEEN THEYD PROBABLY PUT MY HEAD IN A GUILLOTINE

BUT ITS ALRIGHT MA IT’S LIFE AND LIFE ONLY

[humbledragon669]

S1E3 – Hard Times Write Up P3 - Paris (1793) and St. James’s Park (1862)

Alright, first thing’s first for this scene. For those of you that haven’t seen the script, the translation of the executioner’s entrance speech is as follows:

Ah, the music of the blade, and the joy of the people. Beautiful, no? Now, let us inspect your neck.

Alas, nothing of hidden meaning there. Something I did pick up on when I was watching this scene back is that just after the executioner’s (Jean-Claude) entrance, an execution takes place offscreen. It’s talked about, and we are informed that the victim here was female. In what seems to be a really dark bit of humour here, it actually sounds like this is a botched execution. The audio for this scene is below - you’ll need to listen carefully as the script continues over the background soundtrack, but to me it sounds like we hear the falling of the blade, followed by a female scream that does not stop when we hear the thump of the guillotine hitting its target.

Jean-Claude even laments over the poor work that the executioner does, and that Aziraphale is lucky that he will not be executed by the inexperienced knave. I have a pretty dark sense of humour, but even I feel like I would rather believe the screams we can hear are of a spectator, perhaps a loved one of the condemned, distressed at the scene. *shudder*

Moving on to something a bit lighter, we have a reminder of the noise we should be associating with Crowley’s time freeze miracles – that little wobble board noise played over the miracle whoosh (not to mention the underlying tingly sort of noise that can be heard throughout the scene as the time freeze stays in place). Just why Aziraphale doesn’t realise that Jean-Claude has frozen until Crowley actually speaks is a mystery to me. Too caught up in his own impending administrative perils perhaps. What is less mysterious is how the angel feels about Crowley’s unannounced arrival in his cell.

There’s no denying that Aziraphale is delighted that Crowley has appeared – that little smile is pure reflex and he all but breathes his name. I’m sure some people will read it as relief as his friend showing up just when he needs help, but I am not one of them. The painfully obvious once over that he gives Crowley tells us everything we need to know about Aziraphale’s true feelings here. And then there’s that “good Lord” line – it’s not the only time we hear somebody refer to Crowley in this way. It’s an interesting choice of words for sure and if it wasn’t for the way that the angel is drooling looking at Crowley, who I should point out hasn’t exactly positioned himself in what one might call a demure pose, I’d say that he was trying to sound disdainful.

We’re treated to the first (chronologically speaking) mention of the book shop in this scene. There are a couple of other sources that fill in some gaps for us on this front – Neil himself confirmed that Aziraphale bought the land for the shop in the 1630s and the Script Book contains a deleted scene that shows the book shop would be opened in 1800. Seeing as it’s a feature of the series that will become so integral, it’s nice that we’re given a bit of its backstory.

We’re also given a bit of insight to Aziraphale’s insatiable appetite for human food in this scene. Whilst we as the audience have already been given some context around this, it’s only now we see just how strong his attachment to food is. After all, he abandoned his book shop opening plans and travelled to Paris at the height of a revolution that targeted the aristocracy whilst dressed head-to-toe in finery just to get some crepes. Crowley’s expression of disbelief when he finds out that this foolish errand has been driven by pastry-lust feels as though it embodies the thought process of everyone bearing witness to this conversation:

Aziraphale doesn’t appear to think his actions are out of order though. What’s interesting is that his attention is engaged not by the dressing-down he’s receiving, but by Crowley’s use of a particular phrase:

There’s an incredibly subtle eyebrow raise at Crowley’s use of the word “nibble” – it comes a split second before he talks about Aziraphale’s choice of clothing. It’s a real blink-and-you’ll-miss-it moment, so I cut it and slowed it down a little to demonstrate:

As if the angel hadn’t given enough of a clue about how he’s feeling about Crowley’s presence. Honestly, he needs to tell his face to stop giving away his heart’s desires so obviously. Though I’m not sure how much of his heart is involved in that flirty little expression.

At this point we find out that Aziraphale has been reprimanded for performing too many frivolous miracles, to which Crowley responds that the angel is lucky he was in the area. This does raise an interesting question about Crowley always being around when Aziraphale most needs him.

There’s something quite knowing about this exchange – as if they know luck really didn’t have anything to do with it. I don’t think that they were in Paris together, or that Aziraphale even knew Crowley was in Paris - the bit of the conversation about the book shop opening and Crowley’s disbelief at the purpose of the trip is enough for me to believe Aziraphale genuinely didn’t know of the other’s proximity. I do however think that it’s unlikely this is the first time that Crowley has “conveniently” been in just the right place at the right time for Aziraphale, and that they both know there’s more at play than luck. My money’s on Crowley always knowing exactly where Aziraphale is, somehow managing to keep tabs on him in a non-creepy way, purely because he knows the angel has an uncanny knack for getting into trouble. For confirmation of his love of being Aziraphale’s knight in shining armour, see season 2, episode 5.

Right before we see the manacles miraculously fall off Aziraphale’s wrists, we can, if we’re really eagle-eyed, see another one of those micro-expressions that betray Aziraphale’s feelings. It’s off the back of Crowley’s indignant response that he has somehow been entirely responsible for the Reign of Terror currently occupying Paris. It’s minute, but it conveys so much to me – Aziraphale knows that Crowley isn’t really interested in causing anything so heinous and is basking in being reminded of that.

It’s worth noting the leagues of difference in Crowley’s reaction to being told “thank you for the rescue” and being called “nice” as we saw in episode 2. Here he simply (vehemently) tells the angel not to say “rescue”. No violence, no grabbing of lapels, no hissing in Aziraphale’s face. The words might be different, but the sentiment is most definitely the same, and yet the two reactions are light years apart. If I might be forgiven for referring to my own head canon for a moment, this actually makes sense. As a reminder, it’s my belief that Crowley and Aziraphale actually form a romantic relationship as of the day of Adam’s birth, some 200+ years in the future from Paris. This reaction we see from Crowley in the Bastille is a genuine and simple one, whereas (I believe) the wall slam at Tadfield Manor is the beginning of some sexual role play. It’s no wonder the two reactions are so different really. That said, I do not think Aziraphale isn’t playing some sort of role play game here – his insistence that he was unable to miracle himself out of the cell is rudely undermined when he performs a “frivolous miracle” just to change his clothes so that the two of them can go to lunch together. If Crowley’s preference for playing the hero was known to him, it suddenly makes sense why Aziraphale wouldn’t just miracle himself out of the cell, safe in the knowledge that Crowley would do it for him. He even defends his choice to miracle his own clothes to the demon, and it’s a pretty weak excuse.

I think it’s just a shame we don’t see Crowley’s face when he hears this, but what we do see is Aziraphale’s expression of resignation when he realises that he has to miracle his own change of clothes. It’s as if he knows the game has come to an end so now he has to stop the pretence of not being able to help himself. It’s charming really. What’s also interesting is that in switching clothes with Jean-Claude, he condemns the man to an almost instant death, yet he seems to have no qualms about the consequences of his actions in the slightest. He doesn’t even react to Crowley’s little dig that Jean-Claude was “asking for trouble” dressed in Aziraphale’s clothes.

The last exchange of this scene still delivers with subtext – it’s interesting that Crowley asks Aziraphale what’s for lunch whilst showing no preference whatsoever. He doesn’t even look affected when the angel declares joyfully that crepes are the first thing on his mind. Given that I believe Crowley to take much more pleasure in watching Aziraphale eat than eating himself, I think this question more likely means “what do I get to watch you eat for lunch?”. It’s a pleasant, light way to end this scene, which has had its fair share of dark humour squirreled away in its corners.

The first thing I noticed about this scene is that the placard announcing the date and location are different from all the other instances where this device is used. Firstly, both the location and date are on the same side of the sign. Secondly, this instance is the only one that doesn’t thrust itself upon the camera lens, instead being submerged in water. It stands out as being different, but I don’t know that there’s anything of meaning in it other than it’s used as a way to set the scene.

Speaking of setting the scene, we have another instance of David Arnold’s musical mastery with his treatment of the main theme for the soundtrack as we zoom in on Crowley and Aziraphale. The use of the harpsichord gives it a more Baroque feel, rather than being of the Romantic period that 1862 would actually fall into. To me it summons thoughts of Austen-era balls and olde-world courtships with their highly formal etiquette, all which would have taken place about 100 years prior to this scene, so I do find it interesting that it’s been chosen to orchestrate the theme in this way. Nevertheless, it’s a very pretty arrangement and definitely makes us feel that we’re still in England in a time when society had strict rules that needed to be adhered to.

Quick side note: the jacket Aziraphale is wearing in this scene appears to be the same one from the paintballing scene, which he says he has owned for over 180 years. This scene takes place approximately 155 years before the present day of this season, so even at this point he’s already owned that jacket for more than 25 years.

There’s a strange formality between the two of them in this scene, right from the start. Crowley doesn’t even look at Aziraphale as they’re talking to one another, staring stubbornly straight ahead.

Crowley opens the conversation with, what I think, is a really strange line:

What if it all goes wrong? We’ve got a lot in common, you and me…

It consists of two very different ideas that I just can’t seem to make have meaning when you put them together in one sentence. Not only that, I can’t even really make much sense out of the second part of the sentence – it just makes me want to utter the age-old phrase “and…?”. If anybody has any ideas on this one, I’m all ears.

This weirdly awkward meeting continues with Aziraphale’s belittling of Crowley from his first words, which he tries to shrug off, only to have the angel continue to make light of their companionship, claiming that the only thing their partnership is good for is to satisfy the agreement, making sure they “stay out of each other’s way”. This whole interaction just feels so out of character for the pair, particularly given that we’ve just seen them gleefully heading off to have lunch together not 30 seconds previously.

Crowley’s summation of his fall from Heaven here could be telling us a lot about his state of mind when he was still an angel – to me it sounds as if he’s saying that his mindset hasn’t actually shifted very far, and that it wasn’t a sharp sudden descent into his demonic state of being but a gradual (and willing) move. It’s a very different point of view from what we know Aziraphale holds: that there are only two states of being for ethereal beings – good or evil. It’s something we see a lot throughout the series – the comparison of the two opposing opinions on morality, along with the idea that Crowley is much happier in his “limbo” state than Aziraphale, who constantly fights against the notion that he is anything other than purely good.

Despite the fact that it’s painfully obvious that Crowley is really struggling with what he’s asking (there’s a little gulp before he mentions things going pear-shaped that says an awful lot, not to mention the attempts at deflection with his talk of ears), Aziraphale really isn’t listening to his friend in the slightest. Apart from the word “pears”. Surely Crowley should know by now that any use of food-related language is going to send the angel into fantasyland?

Aziraphale really proves that he hasn’t been listening at the point where he finally starts paying attention, though in an ironic twist he has to ask Crowley what he’s been talking about. The further ironic twist is that he starts listening at exactly the point that Crowley will only communicate his needs in writing (I’m not sure why it was necessary to write down the words “holy water” when they’re standing in broad daylight having a conversation out loud…). He’s clearly distressed at Crowley’s request though and his instant refusal to get him what he wants prompts the demon to look at him, albeit briefly, for the first time in this scene.

As little light side note here, I love how Crowley’s handwriting looks so childish on the slip of paper he hands to Aziraphale:

It feels so appropriate for his character that, even after 6000 years, he really has no interest in investing time to improve his writing skills. And what’s with the underline? Trying to convey how important he feels his request is? Whatever the reason, it just compounds the idea that this note was written with someone with the emotional IQ of an amoeba, which is far from the case.

We start to see how distressed Aziraphale is at what he thinks Crowley is asking for at this point.

He impassioned plea comes complete with a little gasping breath before he speaks that’s almost heartbreaking. What I find really interesting about the way he handles this situation is that his distress turns to anger very quickly. When he tells Crowley that he would be in trouble if their liaisons were ever discovered, I read that as him appealing to the demon to try and remind him that they are both at risk doing what they’re doing. Not only that, but there’s no way that he’s going to provide Crowley with an “easy” way out, which I suspect is his way of telling the demon that he doesn’t get to leave him behind. Pity he has to use a word that’s pretty aggravatory to try and hammer his point home – I think his choice would likely be driven by what Heaven would call their meetings, rather than how he sees them, but Crowley has already been told he can’t have what he’s asking for and is in no mood to allow Aziraphale any slip ups at this point.

That word clearly rubs Crowley up the wrong way (and rightly so I say, fancy trivialising 6000 years of companionship in as base a way as to call it “fraternising”). In his defence, Aziraphale does try to take it back, but it’s too late – they’re both too emotional charged at this point to see any sense. Crowley’s scathing response that he has plenty of other people he can “fraternise” with is perhaps not meant as a snipe to undermine their friendship further, but an angry declaration that whilst he might do that with others, it is not how he would choose to describe the interactions with the angel. If that is the subtext, Aziraphale misses it, seeing only the insinuation that Crowley is claiming he has plenty of people he can hang around with, making him less important.

Despite the seriousness of the subject matter driving the argument, we are once again leaving this location and time period with a bit of lightness.

My instinctive response to Aziraphale’s awkward storming off and disposal of Crowley’s note, along with Crowley’s snotty closing remark? A little groan followed by the disdainful muttering of “bloody children…”.

As always, comments, questions, discussions, all welcome!

[the-kr8tor]

Okay, so I’m still working on Chapter 3 for my story, but I will get it done 😭 just need to get over my writers block.

However, I keep having this angst scenario with Hobie that keeps conflicting with me, and I can’t get it out of my head until I write it out to somebody.

So…sorry in advance if this pains you like it pains me 🥲

So R is an heir to a kingdom, and Hobie is a secret rebel spy from a revolutionary group acting as a servant/ outside staff (like a gardener or something) for the castle, and they accidentally meet each other by chance. Hobie at first befriends R to find a way to find any secrets that could overthrow the royal family, but they soon start to get closer and grow close…

He starts to get some doubts after a while, growing protective of R, but he can’t back out because he knows too much of the rebels’ plans, so he tries to make his own plans to find a way to hide R and run away with him before the revolution starts.

Only the revolution starts earlier than he anticipated, and he tries to get to R in time while the army captures the rest of the royal family. He finds R in time and tries to escape with them, but the army catches up with them and takes them away from each other, with R looking heartbroken and betrayed finding out that Hobie was a spy this whole time, before they take her to the dungeons with her family before they get publicly executed.

Hobie finally finds R in their own cell—defeated and resigned to their fate. Hobie tries to break R out of the cell and have them run away with him, but R just wants to stay with their family until the end. R then just quietly confesses to Hobie that they love him, but they already accepted that their feelings are unrequited and that he doesn’t have to pretend that he likes them anymore, breaking his heart in the process.

Before he could confess his own feelings, some of the rebels come in to take the princess to the guillotine, and he could only watch with heartbreak as R follows her family to their demise.

——

I can’t write out an execution scene, I won’t do that to you 🥲

- 😅

(ahhhh i thought i already answered this but it was actually just in my mind smh)

Don't worry I'll patiently wait for it!

OQNSJAZBWJSODMS OKAY THIS IS SO FUCKING COOL

Like I can totally see hobie being like this rebel whose mind is so set in toppling the monarchy down until r! He still wants the monarchy out of there but for some reason he really wants this one royal to be safe (preferably in his arms)

Noooo he was too late!!! This reminded me of the story of Anastasia (the real one)

GAHHHH I can just imagine the look on r's face when they realised that it was Hobie's plan that would get their entire family killed and then too 😔

Brooo i had a feeling that r wouldn't leave after that 😭😭😭 r died without knowing that hobie loved them too 😭 (tear my heart into pieces would u)

*laughs evily* I would write it muahahaha 😈

[deakyjoe]

Sarge & Simon’s Playlist

(Somebody’s Watching Me Series)

Link to playlist

List of songs:

Somebody’s Watching Me - Rockwell

“I’m just an average man, with an average life.”

Hungry Eyes - Eric Carmen

“I need you to see this love was meant to be.”

She’s Like the Wind - Patrick Swayze

“Just a fool to believe I have anything she needs.”

Love Is Strange - Mickey & Sylvia

“Your sweet loving is better than a kiss.”

Mary On A Cross - Ghost

“Your beauty never ever scared me.”

God Only Knows - The Beach Boys

“The world could show nothing to me, so what good would living do me?”

I Don’t Want to Miss a Thing - Aerosmith

“Every moment spent with you is a moment I treasure.”

Nobody Does It Better - Carly Simon

“I wasn't looking but somehow you found me. I tried to hide from your love light.”

Every Breath You Take - The Police

“I dream at night, I can only see your face.”

Take My Breath Away - Berlin

“Watching every motion in this foolish lover's game. Haunted by the notion somewhere there's a love in flames.”

(You’re The) Devil in Disguise - Elvis Presley

“I thought that I was in heaven but I was sure surprised. Heaven help me, I didn't see the devil in your eyes.”

(They Long To Be) Close To You - Carpenters

“Why do stars fall down from the sky every time you walk by?”

I Feel the Earth Move - Carole King

“Oh, darling, I can't stand it when you look at me that way.”

Head Over Heels - Tears For Fears

“I'm lost in admiration, could I need you this much?”

As the World Caves In - Matt Maltese

“Yes, it's you I welcome death with.”

Stop The Calvary - Jona Lewie

“Oh I say it's tough, I have had enough.”

Love Grows (Where My Rosemary Goes) - Edison Lighthouse

“I’m a lucky fella and I just gotta tell her that I love her endlessly.”

Songs listed below are recommendations from readers:

You’re On You’re Own, Kid - Taylor Swift

Me Gustas Tu - Manu Chao

Whiskey Lullaby - Alison Krauss and Brad Paisley

Tennessee Whiskey - Chris Stapleton

Come Out and Play - Billie Eilish

Tell Him - Lauryn Hill

Gravity - John Mayer

There Is a Light That Never Goes Out - The Smiths

WE (Warm Embrace) - Chris Brown

Can’t Take My Eyes Off You - Frankie Valli

Iris - The Goo Goo Dolls

Make You Feel My Love - Adele

Run To You - Whitney Houston

Have a Heart - Bonnie Raitt

Love Sneakin’ Up On You - Bonnie Raitt

Thing Called Love - Bonnie Raitt

Almost Unreal - Roxette

Making Love Out of Nothing at All - Air Supply

The First Time I Ever Saw You - Leona Lewis

Guillotine - Jon Bellion

You’re My Soul and Inspiration - The Righteous Brothers

Undertow - Sara Bareilles

Feel free to send me song suggestions to add to the playlist and ask me for explanations for any of these song choices! Find Somebody’s Watching Me on my masterlist.

[demented-tours]

Making a whine funny so it goes better with dinner.

I texted this to a friend (because I text books sometimes; sorry?), but am putting it here, too, because maybe sharing rants about the sheer improbability of existence is helpful in some other space. Or it might get me flamed into the outer rings of hell.

Meh.

~*~

Tuesday was unavoidable work hell, and on Wednesday I fucked up my back. Badly.

Of course I did. Can't feel feelings properly, so body takes hit, which means that in certain equation: XStress=YPhysicalBreakdown.

It's even predictable. Polite, my pain.

But my lower back/pelvis is now, “Worse than I’ve seen it in years” said my massage therapist.

Not great.

And I just thought to myself, "How disabled a life should I lead?"

Like, if somebody told me tomorrow, “If you quit your job, do yoga 45 minutes a day in carefully controlled environment, take THESE supplements, sleep 10 hours no matter what, and focus entirely on breathing the rest of the time, you’ll have zero pain in your life,” could I do it?

Would I want to?

Hell, I think that might be sort of what I was trying to do before I realized it was a zero sum game.

But I find that I’m at this bizarre place where I’m like, “Okay. I”m (likely)autistic-ADHD-OCD-acronym empowered. Disabled. Anxious. Chronic pain. Autoimmune bingo card winner. I have a full time, highly stressful job, and I think it’s fun to write 6 books at a time. I’ve given up most of my social outings, as I prefer to speak on the phone or in small groups. I don’t like to eat in public. Obligations give me hives. Literally. And also panic attacks.

Except for those obligations that I weirdly manage for myself? But not all of them? Like, how can, "Dee, let’s write 5000 words today!" Not stress me but "Dee let’s do laundry!" make me feel like I am facing the guillotine, and honestly, please behead me faster so it's over already?

And, conversely, how can, "Should we have sex?" feel like somebody’s asking me to scale Mount Everest naked whereas, "Can you do six hours of research on box beetles?" feel so good I feel it in my teeth?

I fucking don’t get myself. The more rocks I turn over, the more confusing it gets. I am a pile of misinformation and contradictions, and it is exhausting trying to sort out these grains of rice from these grains of wheat.

"Just take care of yourself" they say.

Sure, Jan, I say back.

Because I really feel like if I took away all my stressors, the motion of my own lungs would become annoying. Like, congratulations! You have achieved a zen state!

And then, ten minutes into said zen state, I can feel my fucking lungs moving in an obnoxiously even rhythm and want to rip them from my chest.

Because it isn’t what I do. It’s how my body/mind PERCEIVES it and REACTS to it without my fucking consent.

And yeah, I read all the books on retraining your brain. That works great if you want to stop hating spiders because one bit you as a kid and then your mom kissed your booboo, and you got the bandaid you liked.

It does not work well if spiders are attached to garden hoses because you once killed a spider and then got beaten with a hose because you left the back door unlocked before being sent to your room without supper where you rocked yourself for comfort and now you have a VERY complicated relationship with spiders (which you cannot be near) and hoses (which you like in kinky bedroom activity) and food (you can't eat supper without permission) and locks (you collect them) and being alone (which, as Taylor says, leads to ending up in crisis) and rocking (which you do only on airplanes, now, for Other Complicated Ass Reasons)*.

So yeah. Not simple.

I really don't pay my therapist enough.

But then I think all this, and I think, “Do I REALLY not like to eat in public??? I used to love it. I think? Or was I faking it? Or sometimes?

"Or is all this misinformation, too? Actually, is everything? Self, are we pretending to be disabled to get out of doing things we don’t like? Or do we legit need to get out of doing things we don’t like because we are disabled**?"

I have no fucking clue.

And my back hurts.

Sigh.

<3Dee

*(Please note: This is purely an example. I was not beaten with hoses. And I like spiders, and I rock in cars, not planes, thanks.)

**(This is my own self talk, not commentary on anybody else's disability. Because YOUR disability is 1000% legit. I will fight to the death for your self respect and accomodations. It's just my disability that's clearly for show.)

[lorei-writes]

Letters: From: Me ; To: You

(And Some of What Happened In-Between)

Clavis Lelouch & OC (OC Chart: Laura) Summary: A letter sent out in desperation, and how -- or whether -- it manages to rescue Laura from an arranged marriage. Word Count Estimate: 400 Other chapters: Masterlist

Content Warnings: none

—

Esteemed X,

A most curious tale has reached my ears. Allegedly, in the far away land of roses, there lives a most villainous Prince. His deeds happen to be known even where the darkness outshines the stars, and so they are carried forth through the shadows, mouth-to-mouth. It is hard to believe somebody indeed is as daring as to oppose the rulers of this abyss of mine… Nevertheless, I must confess, I pray each day for said tales not to be merely a piece of drivel.

It is most unbecoming of a lady, yet I found myself at an hour of need. As such, please, do not judge me merely by the names of my sins, and instead weigh the crimes I lay bare before you with upmost care. Otherwise I may consider carrying them personally to the dear God himself. Admittedly, I am most desperate in my search for help.

Ever since my first blood, I have been aware of my duty towards my household: the boys inherit, the girls marry and thus unite. In my naivety, however, I had myself convinced the time would not come – and if it did, then surely, I was not to be offered to the foregaffer of all gaffers. I always thought my father to be a respectable man with shrewd business sense, so considering our personal wealth, it did not occur to me I would find my worth transcribed into acres of land.

On the eve of my twenty third spring, I received a ring. I met my – then already – betrothed on the very same evening. The one chosen for me is an influential figure among the highest spheres of the society; he is wise, with a sea of servants waiting on him, and he is most charismatic when indulging in having them fulfil each of his whims. However, I find myself appalled rather than thrilled when thinking about returning to the arms that carried me back when I was no older than three.

I believe more needs not be said on the reason behind my despair. The wedding a guillotine looming over my head, I praise the name of the priest who refused to officiate the ceremony until my engagement lasts at least a third of the year. Out of that, I have mere ten weeks left.

The aforementioned Prince from the land of roses is said not to ever reject those who seek his aid. The only question I have is: would said Prince be willing to commit a grand act of nefariousness to save me from this hell? I have few friends in this place.

Yours faithfully,

Klara Schemm

Tag List: @cilokgoang @violettduchess @pathogenic @fang-and-feather @tele86

As per usual, let me know if you'd like to (continue to) be tagged for this series :) A word of disclaimer, though: the updates are to follow a schedule, but it is not a regular one.

[vesseloftherevolution]

The saga continues! Today, poor Camille is under a lot of stress. It’s the Reynolds Pamphlet!

Full company (Parisian coffee house):

“Le Vieux Cordelier

Have you read this?

Camille Desmoulins attacked the CSP

And half of Paris seems to agree

SJ/ Billaud Varennes/Collot Highlights!

"The charge against me is in connection with one Fabre d’Eglantine

For purposes of improper speculation

My real crime is a too apt quotation from Tacitus

Originally written with Robespierre’s consent. “

Lindet: Damn!

SJ/ Billaud Varennes/Collot : "I had frequent meetings with him

Most of them at my own house"

Damn!

"Saint Just, with his jealousy, being absent

On a visit to the frontier"

No

Boo!

Have you read this sh-?

Well, he's clearly going to be guillotined now

Well, he's clearly going to be guillotined now

Well, he's clearly going to be guillotined now

Well, he's clearly going to be guillotined now

Well, he's clearly going to be guillotined now

Well, he's clearly going to be guillotined now

That's one less thing to worry about

That's one less thing to worry about

Annette: I came as soon as I heard (what?)

Camille: Annette , thank God

Someone who understands what I'm

Struggling here to do

Annette: I'm not here for you (ooh!)

I know my daughter like I know my own mind

You will never find anyone as trusting or as kind

I love my daughter more than anything in this life

I will choose her happiness over mine every time

Put what we had aside, I'm standing at her side

You could never be satisfied, God, I hope you're satisfied

SJ/ Billaud Varennes/Collot: Well, he's clearly going to be guillotined now etc

Ensemble: Le Vieux Cordelier

Have you read this?

You ever see somebody ruin their own life?

His poor wife…”

[kariachi]

Some fic inspired by that post from last night.

Kevin and the struggle of ‘do I tell people who I am’.

~~

“I think, they don’t know who I am,” Kevin said, running a hand up through Argit’s mane in search of loose quills. His ear twitched.

“What?”

“Between, everything, that’s different. I don’t think they realize who I am.” The apartment was filled only with Kevin’s music for a long beat, before Argit snorted hard enough to double himself over.

“Seriously,” he snickered as Kevin yanked him back into place by the back of his shirt.

“Seriously. It’d explain why they’re being so… chill.” He had been so fucking confused these past couple weeks. With their history he had been expecting more than the, admittedly annoying as fuck, ‘yeah he’s a criminal they’re like that’ treatment he’d been getting. A little more wariness, little more concern, less willingness to be alone in a room with him. But the other day, the topic of the gladiator ring had come up, and Ben had proceeded to explain the whole thing like Kevin had not, in fact, been there.

The realization had hit him like a truck at that point.

“I’m trying to figure out telling them,” he said.

“Kev, buddy, Ravrsa, noo,” Argit pleaded, laughter still bubbling up out of his throat as he grabbed his sleeve and turned to try to puppy eye him, “it’s the funniest shit!”

“I know-” It really, really was, and he’d be perfectly cool with keeping his, mouth shut and seeing how long this lasted, but circumstances were what they were. “-but if nothing else having Gwen gunning for me when she doesn’t have vital info…” The whole situation was awkward enough before. He was interested- though most he’d been hungry, and she was a lot of energy in one space- but she was uncomfortably pushy about it, and his addiction issues hung over the whole idea like a guillotine even before bringing their history into account. Now? Knowing she probably didn’t know they had history? Made it all worse.

“Eh, fuck her. What’s she got that Looma doesn’t? Besides a chance for you to relapse.” Kevin groaned and rolled his eyes.

“Looma is gonna get beat by somebody else and that’ll be the end of it.”

“Hasn’t happened yet.”

“It’s just a matter of time. She’s royalty, and I’m not that good a fighter, no way someone isn’t gonna come along.” He’d only won in the first place because he had more experience fighting Tetramand than she’d had fighting non-Tetramand. The fact nobody’d managed yet was a little worrying, but he wasn’t especially concerned. There was time.

“You keep telling yourself that, Earthboy. I’ll keep practicing my Khoron.”

“You go right ahead.” Shaking his head, he shoved Argit’s back into position and set back to grooming. “I just don’t know how to go about this.” It wasn’t even the history thing that was the big problem. Yes, it was an issue and he damn well expected it would change everything when they learned exactly who they had been dealing with. No doubt everything was going to be worse than he felt it should have been, given the gap between them starting working together and finding out who he was. Still, that was something he could deal with. Wouldn’t be the first time what had seemed like a good thing had shattered and it wouldn’t be the last, at least this time he could stop himself from getting too attached ahead of time. But letting them know would, by it’s very nature, require coming out to them.

He'd never come out to anybody before.

Okay, that was a lie, he’d come out to Argit by grace of being bestfriends and living with the guy for the entire time he’d been going from ‘I’m a tomboy who really wishes she could be a boy’ to ‘I’m a boy and anyone who thinks otherwise is wrong and can bite my ass’. He hadn’t come out to anybody else before. In the greater galaxy he’d just let the ambiguity that came with nobody knowing what humans were, nonetheless anything about their biology, work for him. Since coming back he’d reveled in having inherited his grandma’s broad shoulders and easy muscle, how much easier it made passing. And now here he was, trying to figure out how to come out, on Earth, where he knew damn well people were willing to start trouble over this shit.

He had no idea how to tell if the Tennysons would be the type to start trouble over this shit. They’d at least stay professional, right? They had to. The planet was at stake.

“So, don’t bother with it,” Argit said, pulling him out of his head with a shrug. “If the big worry is that it’s not fair to Gwen, shut her down and move on. Don’t like that she’s been pushy with you anyway, you can do better. Throw the body over the edge, and it won’t matter if she knows or not anymore. Then you can just let the whole mess be, we can keep laughing at their stupid, and if they ever figure it out you can feign ignorance at how they could’ve not realized who you are.”

It probably said something that for all he was interested in Gwen, the option was very tempting.

“You talk real sensibly for a complete asshole,” he said, dumping a handful of old quills into the trash.

“Love you too, buddy.” Argit’s tail wrapped affectionately around his arm. “There’s no reason for you to make yourself uncomfortable just so they can have something new to be annoying as shit over.” Snorting, Kevin flicked his ear.

“Thanks, Hedgehog. It’s not the worst option I’ve got…”

[jeffreycharlestoronto]

shit we are all fucked

Darkness at the break of noon Shadows even the silver spoon The handmade blade, the child's balloon Eclipses both the sun and moon To understand you know too soon There is no sense in trying As pointed threats, they bluff with scorn Suicide remarks are torn From the fool's gold mouthpiece the hollow horn Plays wasted words, proves to warn That he not busy being born is busy dying Temptation's page flies out the door You follow, find yourself at war Watch waterfalls of pity roar You feel to moan but unlike before You discover that you'd just be one more Person crying So don't fear if you hear A foreign sound to your ear It's alright, Ma, I'm only sighing As some warn victory, some downfall Private reasons great or small Can be seen in the eyes of those that call To make all that should be killed to crawl While others say don't hate nothing at all Except hatred Disillusioned words like bullets bark As human gods aim for their mark Make everything from toy guns that spark To flesh-colored Christs that glow in the dark It's easy to see without looking too far That not much is really sacred While preachers preach of evil fates Teachers teach that knowledge waits Can lead to hundred-dollar plates Goodness hides behind its gates But even the president of the United States Sometimes must have to stand naked An' though the rules of the road have been lodged It's only people's games that you've got to dodge And it's alright, Ma, I can make it Advertising signs they con You into thinking you're the one That can do what's never been done That can win what's never been won Meantime life outside goes on All around you You lose yourself, you reappear You suddenly find you got nothing to fear Alone you stand with nobody near When a trembling distant voice, unclear Startles your sleeping ears to hear That somebody thinks they really found you A question in your eyes is lit Yet you know there is no answer fit To satisfy, insure you not to quit To keep it in your mind and not forget That it is not he or she or them or it That you belong to Although the masters make the rules For the wise men and the fools I got nothing, Ma, to live up to For them that must bow down to authority That they do not respect in any degree Who despise their jobs, their destinies Speak jealously of them that are free Cultivate their flowers to be Nothing more than something they invest in While some on principles baptized To strict party platform ties Social clubs in drag disguise Outsiders they can freely criticize Tell nothing except who to idolize And then say God bless him While one who sings with his tongue on fire Gargles in the rat race choir Bent out of shape from society's pliers Cares not to come up any higher But rather get you down in the hole That he's in But I mean no harm nor put fault On anyone living in a vault But it's alright, Ma, if I can't please him Old lady judges watch people in pairs Limited in sex, they dare To tell fake morals, insult and stare While money doesn't talk, it swears Obscenity, who really cares Propaganda, all is phony While them that defend what they cannot see With a killer's pride, security It blows the minds most bitterly For them that think death's honesty Won't fall upon them naturally Life sometimes must get lonely My eyes collide head-on with stuffed Graveyards, false goals (gods), I scuff At pettiness which plays so rough Walk upside-down inside handcuffs Kick my legs to crash it off Say okay, I have had enough, what else can you show me? And if my thought-dreams could be seen They'd probably put my head in a guillotine But it's alright, Ma, it's life, and life only"

[jazzromance]

Darkness at the break of noon Shadows even the silver spoon The handmade blade, the child's balloon Eclipses both the sun and moon To understand you know too soon There is no sense in trying Pointed threats they bluff with scorn Suicide remarks are torn From the fools gold mouthpiece the hollow hornPlays wasted words, proves to warn That he not busy being born Is busy dying ... ... You lose yourself, you reappear You suddenly find you got nothing to fearAlone you stand with nobody near When a trembling distant voice, unclear Startles your sleeping ears to hear That somebody thinks they really found you A question in your nerves is lit Yet you know there is no answer fit To satisfy, ensure you not to quit To keep it in your mind and not forget That it is not he, or she, or them, or it That you belong to But though the masters make the rules For the wise men and the fools I got nothing, Ma, to live up to For them that must obey authority That they do not respect in any degree Who despise their jobs, their destiny Speak jealously of them that are free Do what they do just to be Nothing more than something they invest in ... ... And if my thought-dreams could be seen They'd probably put my head in a guillotine But it's alright, Ma, it's life, and life only __________________________________________

There are so many poetic lines in this song. But tonight these were the lines that I resonated most with. The bolded ones are the ones I resonated most with. And if you ask me tomorrow, you might find me having a different answer. I will always be thankful for musicians and poets who puts abstract feelings and thoughts into words when my own mind isn't ready to take that leap. It's such a great relief.

[t0bi0ss]

past lives reborn!mc x om!characters

He loved her. He truly did love Hisani. But, he knew that their lifespans were so different. He knew they couldn’t live for eternity. But, he didn’t think she’d be taken from him so soon. Hisani was a female noble, a woman with unexplainable beauty.

But, it wasn’t her beauty he fell in love with, it was her as a person. But, he knew she had to hide things from him. But, he didn’t mind as long as it didn’t hurt either of their relationship. Hisani was a noble woman, but she knew magic and was a secret and illegal mage.

She knew she would be caught, so when she ended up falling for him, she made sure a spell was casted on him once her heart stopped.

If Hisani’s heart stops, he’ll forget everything about her.

It was something cruel, but caring. So once she died he wouldn’t have to grieve her death, he wouldn’t have to face a heart clenching pain. When that day came, she made sure to send him a letter, saying that she would be busy and he shouldn’t come and see her.

That was the final letter she had ever sent him, and he wouldn’t even remember who it came from or why someone would send it. She knew this, but still was happy that was the last one Hisani would send as she sat in the cell with magic cuffs on.

Another day passed and she was pulled out of the cell and into a public space, large crowds were there yelling for her to be killed. Hisani didn’t look at them as she just awaited her death, which would be painless, thankfully. She was pulled onto the guillotine, he head in between the boards.

She heard a swing and felt the blade drop, she closed her eyes and whispered one thing..

“I love you…” it was the last thing she said as the blade went through her skin.

MC’s eyes snapped open, they sat up and placed a hand around their neck. ‘Memories? But they aren’t mine…’ MC thought. They shook their head, “Stupid dreams messing with me.” They muttered. “Hm? You say something?” he asked, MC looked at him and shook their head.

MC just sat there before thinking of something, “Do you believe in past lives?” they asked. He just hummed, “It’s possible, but difficult to prove.” he said. “Actually, impossible to approve.”. MC only nodded, ‘Why am I really thinking so hard about it…’ They thought.

“Hurry up and get ready.” he said and left MC’s room. MC got ready and left for RAD, they wanted to try and ask Solomon if there truly was a spell like the one in her dream. It didn’t take long to find him since he stuck out like a sore thumb sometimes.

“Oh, hey MC.” Solomon greeted. “I wanted to ask you about something magic related, willing to give me an answer?” they asked. “Depends.” Solomon smiled, “Is there a spell that causes a person to lose all memories of another person when their heart stops?” MC asked.

“Yes, but it's forbidden to use since it was created by a deceased illegal sorcerer over 400 hundread years ago.” Solomon said. “Who?” MC asked. “Curious aren’t you?” Solomon chuckled, “An illegal sorcerer named Hisani, honestly nobody knows why that was something she wanted to create, but she did.” Solomon said.

“I’m still wondering who she used it on.” Solomon chuckled, “Was that all?” he asked. “Yeah, thanks.” MC said. “Why did you ask all of a sudden? Did you find a book regarding it?” Solomon asked.

“I had a strange dream I guess, I saw the spell.” MC said. “Like memories?” Solomon asked. “Can it happen?” MC asked. “It can, who knows. You might have been Hisani in your past life.” Solomon teased. The loud ringing of the alarm disrupted their conversation, “See ya later MC.” Solomon said, waving and leaving quickly.

‘If that’s true then he already forgot about Hisani.’ MC thought, ‘Maybe that’s why he felt so familiar to me?’.

A few days passed as MC wondered about Hisani, they managed to find out more about it and came to the conclusion that Hisani was somebody they were in their past life. But, the more they found out about him, the more they felt a heart crushing pain that Hisani felt about him.

The spell worked, he truly didn't know anything about Hisani. ‘Maybe it’s better that way. But, why do I want him to remember me? Isn’t it better that he knows me now?’ MC thought. ‘No, it’s Hisani that doesn’t want him to remember. I want him to remember.’.  MC looked over at him, ‘Can I start with the same way she did, do similar things to Hisani and hope he gets some type of memory.’.

[drama-lapa]

Alright, just finished binging Love between fairy and devil, and I've got some thoughts.

To preface this, I understand many people find this drama amazing and without faults, and I am not about to ruin it for them. Every single one of us has our comfort shows, which we don't want to think critically about (hell, if I started critically judging every comfort show I had, I would no longer have shows that help me disconnect from the outside world), and this show is really great for turning your brain off for the runtime, so if you don't want to see me mocking things you enjoy, please move forward now. There will be mild spoilers ahead (though, if you've seen one Cdrama with fairies, you've seen all of them).

So, first of all, the whole premise of the show could easily be-" But I can fix him! " And yes, obviously, the female lead (later referred as Orchid) changes the male lead (I will exclusively call him Wood because every time his nickname was translated I let out a laugh) to the point where he even says that he is a completely different person after being changed by her. He is abusive, she forgives every single discretion he has, and it is portrayed as healthy and something the audience should strive for.

I understand that owner-owned can and is somebodies wish for a relationship model, but the way it was shown in this drama? Nope, thank you. Not only the age difference of the characters, but also the naively of Orchid and the maturity of Wood gets some weird vibes at the beginning of their relationship.

The story? Somehow extremely predictable, but I don't mind. Didn't go into this show to see genre bending storytelling, just wanted to see pretty people make bad decisions. But one thing I'll laugh about for months to come? Fairy guillotine. The first time I read those subtitles I just started hysterically laughing. The best thing about this, is the fact that the showrunners never showed it, so there is a very specific and ridiculous image in my mind of the guillotine. And I am so thankful for that.

What about the special effects? Pretty good, I'm glad to say. Of course, at the second time Arbiter hall was brought up, I felt like it was a cop out, because the production funds were about to run out, and this theory was held up when the hall appeared in the later stages of the show for the third time. However I found it as a very good way to keep reusing the same set, not putting the story down because of it.

What did I like? Well, the leads were pretty good, the chemistry (at least when Wood wasn't treating Orchid like a child) was pretty much swoon worthy, so that's a really good plus. The cinematography was also pleasing. Costumes, as always were on point. If you like a whipped male lead, then you have come to the right place, cause damn..

I enjoyed the relationship between the God of war and the fairy who was in love with him. It was extremely refreshing to see her as an associate and a friend of his. I was quite scared they would make them a couple in the last episode, and I'm glad they didn't go that route.

The villain? Well, Lord of Haishi city was revealed pretty quickly, although I didn't like his train of thought in trying to bring back his master, I did like the unpredictability. The evil god? Didn't care much about him, wish there was something more concrete about him.

So, if you have read this far, congratulations. If you're still deciding on whether to watch this show, I think it's a pretty good mid level show with not as many problematic characters (cough, cough, Meteor garden), awesome score and feels for days. The ending makes you go and search for a fanfiction, so if you're interested in that, you probably will enjoy this show.

[bonhcmme]

Pruner of Men

Doctor, Jacobin, Writer

His more distant forebears pruned orchards. Closer on the family tree, his father pruned wood into cabinets, toys, furniture. As for Jean Valjean fils, he was destined to prune men into a working government.

His humble beginnings showed little portent of this. He was born in 1744 the second child and first son of Jean & Jeanne Valjean. It was understood he would be heir to the father’s woodworking business in Paris. Though not a bad inheritance— it was thriving at the time of Valjean père’s death— it was nonetheless not what Jean wanted to pursue in life. He wanted to learn.

His older sister Jeanne being the responsible level head of the family, she took on the business with their younger brother Mathieu as apprentice while Jean studied and contributed what he could to the family finances. He was less sure what subject he wanted to study; he hopped around like a bee among flowers until at last he knew what pollen to collect: medicine. Law may have been the better choice for a man of ambition. Valjean’s only ambition was to better peoples’ lives while making a living of his own, and it seemed to him under the current regime both were not present in the field of law.

He became a doctor instead as well as something of an amateur scientist— he was more willing than some to try unconventional treatments, especially if conventional ones were not working. He established himself a practice and a reputation. Once he had these, her began to look beyond those borders to the country surrounding him. He could do something for the ill, but what of the other sickness in the land? A visit to one of the slums of Paris showed him the need viscerally; he donated to charity but also began writing letters to men of influence.

It wasn’t that he had nothing to lose. He had his position, a wife,* a family. But this felt too important to leave alone. As things heated up in France Valjean kept close eye on the newspapers, he frequented cafés, he began writing for the very papers he read so assiduously. He was away on a visit to a rural patient on July 14, 1789 but made up for lost time when he returned. He poured forth articles and pamphlets in support of reform, some of it quite radical. However, he was careful not to call for violence. When he finally ran for the Legislative Assembly, he was seen as a moderate.

In some ways he was: anticlerical but not anti-religion, seeking reform and not ruins to build upon. But the reforms he did want went too far for many and without a natural constituency— not radical enough for either left or right— he found it difficult to drum up support for his position. Still, he tried. As the national mood shifted from right to left, he felt more at ease. His movements became more like those of a fish in water threading himself between the groups, attempting to knit together disparate personalities and policies. He wanted peace.

He would only find it at the end of a regretful climb.

*role of wife wide open, if anybody wants it. This is one of those rare AUs where he actually could & would get married, so. I would cry.

[krakensmaw]

𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐘  𝐖𝐄𝐑𝐄  𝐓𝐖𝐎  𝐇𝐎𝐋𝐋𝐎𝐖,  𝐇𝐀𝐔𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐃  𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒  𝐎𝐑𝐁𝐈𝐓𝐈𝐍𝐆  𝐄𝐀𝐂𝐇  𝐎𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐑  𝐅𝐎𝐑  𝐄𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐓𝐘.   or  maybe  this  was  it.   maybe  this  was  the  end  of  them  after  all,  freedom  from  whatever  twisted  thing  they  were.   some  feral  creature  tore  at  his  ribcage  in  a  desperate  bid  for  its release   ;   clawed  with  the  ANIMAL   instinct  to  fight.   to  shout,  to  snarl,  to  lash  out.   anything  that  was  easier  than  sitting  in  silence  while  izzy  spoke  the   terrible truths  of  their  own shortcomings  back  to  them.

but  he  didn't.   they  sat  there  and  listened,  'til  their  friend  seemed  to  have  run  himself  dry,  and  even  then  the  silence  LINGERED   a  moment.   what  could  he  ever  hope  to  say,  to  do,  to  counteract  the  better  part  of  a  lifetime?

❛   you're  right.   ❜     it  was  all  they  spoke  for  a  moment.   tension  hung  in  the  air,  poised  like  a  guillotine,  with  the  very  existence  of  their  relationship  BOUND & QUARTERED   beneath  it.     ❛   christ,  iz,  you  think  i  don't  know  you're  right?   ❜     when  his  chin  tilted  back  up  to  meet  the  other's  gaze,  the  tears  finally  spilled.   silent  as  the  grave,  but  unyielding  as  they  streamed  down  his face  and  caught  in  his  scruff.

❛   you  deserved  better  than  whatever   scraps  i  had  left  to  give  you  after  somebody  else  broke  my  heart.   ❜     because  that  had  always  been  the  routine,  hadn't  it?   their  song  and  dance.   edward  fell  for  someone  else,  and  izzy  was  there  to  pick  up  the  pieces  when  they  left  him.   jack,  ned,  jack  again   (  and  again,  and  again  ).   EVEN STEDE.     ❛   i  took  you  for  granted,  iz,  an'  i'm  sorry.   i'm  so  fucking  sorry,  man.   ❜     his  voice  hitched  at  the  end,  choked  itself on  the  weight  of  it.

a  thick  swallow  ere  they  pressed  on.     ❛   you  built  yourself  for  me,  but  there's  SO MUCH MORE   to  you  than  that.   the  crew  sees  it,  an'  so  do  i  now.   seeing  you  open  up,  be  yourself,  be  so  much  more  than  i  could  ever  make  you   ...   it's  beautiful.   you're  beautiful.   ❜

they  stood  and  closed  the  last  step  to  izzy.   palms  rose,  calloused  but  gentle,  to  cradle  the  man's  face.   head  canted,  he  leaned  down  and  pressed  soft  kisses  to  izzy's  tearstained  cheeks.     ❛   i  don't  know  who  i  am  without  you  either,  an'  i  don't  care  to  find  out.   but  i'll  LET YOU GO,  if  you  tell  me  to.   ❜     foreheads  tilted  together,  just  resting.     ❛   i'll  get  on  my  knees,  beg  you  to  stay  with  me,  if  you  tell  me  to.   christ,  izzy,  i'll  throw  myself  off  the  fuckin'  ship  if  you  tell  me  to.   ❜

a  sigh,  marrow  deep  and  shuddering.     ❛   i  love  you   ...   i  love  you.   not  for  now,  not  as  a  whim.   i'll  gladly  spend  the  rest  of  our  lives  proving  it  t'you,  if  you'd  let  me.   ❜

Izzy felt like he had finally woken up and opened his eyes after a coma that lasted decades. Something about the Revenge's silly little crew with their easygoing love and cheerful acceptance - things that somehow, inexplicable, had come to extend to him - was the thing that had done it. That had made him realize the truth that he'd be willfully oblivious to for so very long.

Edward. He opened his eyes to Edward. To how utterly hopeless it all was. It wasn't supposed to be this fucking difficult. And even now, it seemed Ed didn't understand as he apologized for his leg, again. It wasn't the leg that pained him. Not really. Idiot man that he was - that he'd been - he would have happily carve chunks of himself, flesh and bone, away and offer them as tribute happily. No. It wasn't that. It was the reason.

It had nothing to do with Izzy. Edward couldn't even do him the fucking kindness of taking his leg because of Izzy himself. No. He'd taken his leg because of his feelings for Stede Bonnet, because Izzy had reminded him. Just another person in the long line of people that Ed had chosen over Izzy, would always choose over Izzy.

He devoted near his entire life to a man who would never belong to him, who would never love him, not truly. A man as harsh, changing, and untamable as the sea. And yet, Izzy had never stopped loving him, had perhaps even loved him more. Because of his nature, not in spite of it.

It hurts. It pulls a gasp from him throat. It leaves him staggered. I've loved you since the moment we met. I love you. The words that he'd wanted to hear for so very long and yet, bitterness had seeped into his heart, turned the words into something black, something awful.

Just another bone to throw the dog to stop its barking, bring it back to heel.

So he ignored the words, ignored the confession. Focused on the apology instead. "You're sorry. For now." Izzy murmured, more to himself than to Ed, but then, louder, growing confidence in each word, gaze cutting over to their face, "Until the next time. Until you get bored. Until you find something new. Until I'm not enough again. Until you have to take your emotions out on something. Until you decide we're done. You."

A gasp, a blink, another realization, a bitter sort of laugh, "I don't know who I am without you." Izzy. Iz. First Mate Hands. All names bestowed upon him by Edward. He couldn't remember the last person that called him anything else. "I built my entire life around you. Around being whatever you needed. Around being there for you. Around taking care of you. Around loving you. All around you. You, you, you. It's always you! I built myself for you!" He's roaring by the time he stopped speaking, because anger was more familiar, was easier than sadness. And yet, still, he can feel the tears, wet and hot, drip down his face. And for a moment, he stood there, panting. "And I got nothing in return! Attention when you felt the urge to indulge me. Jealousy if I dared to even look at anyone else. Affection if you were feeling lonely and needed someone to fuck." A huff of that bitter laughter again, wet, and he wipes at his face, but it doesn't stop the tears, "It's not right, Ed."