#which is incidentally every day of the week but today especially

[rochenn]

Last Line Challenge

Rules: in a new post, show the last line you wrote (or drew) and tag as many people as there are words (or as many as you like).

Thank you @purple-ant for the tag <3

For writing: Here's another snippet from Gone with the Light, this time a little glimpse of Cody talking to Rex over the comms :D

“Actually, there’s one thing. I think General Skywalker scraped up your boss from somewhere.”

Cody closed his eyes. He took a deep breath. “You think?” he asked as calmly as he could.

“Inferred it from context in his last status call. What, aren’t you happy?”

“Oh, of course, old boy. Always happy to hear about my CO being scraped from places,” Cody ground out at Rex’s teasing tone. The feeling that the General had more than a little to do with this farce intensified. “Anything else?”

For art: Merman Cody!! because I didn't take enough advantage of mermay last year </3

no pressure tags: @stagbeetleboy @prahacat @kote-wan @phi-guy @catboydogma @charmwasjess @razzbberry this game has been making mad rounds lately so sorry if you guys got tagged too many times xoxo (consider it a boop)

[wellmetmat]

There's a post from a couple of years ago which I was reminded of and wanted to add to today, about nobody wanting to take the supplicant role in courtship, but it's unrebloggable due to some constraint the OP put on it, so I'll just quote my bit:

Being attracted to someone is distressing. I think the largest part of it is hunger to know someone (?); but when you can’t get to know them well, it ends up a stunted obsession: all that drive-to-know - enough to build a deep, detailed model of another personality - chewing over scraps of phrases and trivial actions, until you’re snappishly bored with your own mind. Your skin feels hungry and there’s nothing you can do about it: “touch starvation” is a phrase that comes to mind. The person’s absence and their presence both hurt: absence obviously, presence because once you’re there you find that there’s still distance, you still miss them. It’s rather like homesickness. Courting someone is wretched. It’s frightening and humiliating and full of agonising waiting periods and jarring mood switchbacks. It feels something like being dragged along on a fishhook, with the line attached to another person’s little finger. Liking someone more than they like you is a position of low power. The incentives are to be servile. You have nothing to bargain with: whatever they decide, you agree to with a smile. You always try to sound happy, because that’s what’s most appealing. You give up on areas of confusion instead of trying to understand, because asking questions annoys people and any annoying act pushes you closer to the cliff-edge of losing them. Any small disagreement feels like a large risk, so you distort your own opinions a bit. You can’t be spontaneous; your inner voice is always tallying accounts: how many days since the last message, too few, you mustn’t bother them yet / how many days since you came up with something interesting, too many, they may forget; don’t intrude so much, but simultaneously what have you done for them lately, how can you provide value to justify remaining in their life. It seems bad that we’re like this. I don’t imagine humans are especially badly formed or anything, it’s probably just as subjectively rotten for every animal that does courtship displays. But if anyone eventually makes robots with emotion-like motivational systems, they shouldn’t include anything like attraction. It’s so silly.

I feel like resurrecting this today to celebrate being out of it. In the last two weeks, somebody has given me the double gifts of liking me and of having the generosity to say so, and show so. All I want to do is be glad and be grateful, and try never to cause this person to experience anything described above.

But I stand by the description, it is a correct description, and we are so badly made it is infuriating. @nohoperadio's good post on the tragic stupidity of pain incidentally also works as a discourse on eros: if there'd been any intelligence involved in the design process, distress signals would come with an off-switch! (Hence my blog tagline.) But instead, evolution is a pitiless idiot, love is humiliation, nonviable attachments take years to starve to death, and there is no moral of the story. Absurd. A baboon could design a better emotional constitution.

Delightfully, this week ACX introduced David Pearce ("For centuries, philosophers have praised suffering as a necessary part of the human condition. For decades, David Pearce has told those other philosophers that they are bad and wrong"), who is doing his best to make a better emotional constitution available, and I approve of such a project so highly that it's been necessary to stack new levels of approval above my previous maximum to encompass how right he is. It's really exciting that any intelligent and active person considers progress of this sort possible and is working on it.

[sirenjose]

Analysis of Norton's dish: Roast Beef with Pudding

The pudding is likely Yorkshire Pudding/Plum Pudding

Roast beef with Yorkshire Pudding are traditional dishes in Great Britain, especially in Northern England

Eaten by a variety of people, from the lower classes to the higher classes, and could even be found on the royal family's menu. Commonly served on Christmas day to workhouses/poorhouses.

“roast beef served with plum pudding is the most evocative of past traditions of hospitality. It was once Britain’s prime celebration dish and a potent symbol of the nation’s character and cohesiveness.”

Roast Beef

The history of roast beef dates back to King Henry VII in 1485. Henry’s bodyguards (Yeoman of the Guard) received part of their salary in chunks of beef. This practice took place up until the 1800s and allegedly they earned the title ‘beef-eaters’. The story goes that King Henry’s guards started the Sunday roast beef tradition by cooking the meat (usually fillet, sirloin or shoulder) in the morning before going to Mass. The practice became a habit during the 19th century.  Women would leave the meat to cook in their village baker’s oven, which closed on Sunday, and pick it up when back from church, perfectly roasted.

Eating beef was reinforced by a tradition outlined in William Kitchiner’s 1871 volume “Apicius Redivivus: Or, The Cook’s Oracle”.  In his book, the author recommends eating about 3 kilos of meat per week to stay healthy. This underlined the central role that meat played in the British diet and described the practice of cooking beef sirloin for at least four hours over a spit.  Sunday was the one day of the week when people had four hours to spare to roast beef. Fortunately a massive lump of meat could feed the family.  They would then use it again in stews, pies and as cold cuts for the rest of the week.  As the cost of meat and coal began to plummet working people continued the habit of roasting beef every Sunday.

Yorkshire Pudding

Traditionally, the word “pudding” referred to homely and rustic desserts that were commonly eaten by the lower classes. These could be either sweet or salty. Pudding dishes are mainly made with flour and have a cake-like consistency. But originally, pudding was a meat based, sausage-like food in Britain (ex: black and white puddings). However by the late 1700s, the contemporary puddings were no longer meat based and this change incidentally coincided with the first published mention of the batter pudding.

The Yorkshire Pudding is a baked pudding made from a batter of eggs, flour and milk or water. It has become a common British side dish which is versatile and can be served in many different ways – although mainly recognized as an accompaniment to a roast dinner.

It has been suggested the pudding was given the name “Yorkshire” due to the region’s association with coal and the high temperatures this produced that helped to make crispy batter.

The 1st recorded Yorkshire Pudding recipe appeared in a 1737 book titled "The Whole Duty of a Woman"and was listed as "Dripping Pudding". Wheat flour had come into common use for making cakes and puddings, and cooks in the north of England had begun baking batter puddings while their meat roasted to make use of the fat that dropped in the dripping pan. Batter was placed in a hot pan over the fire with a bit of butter, then placed under a shoulder of mutton in the oven in place of a dripping pan to collect the fat.

The next recorded recipe launched the pudding from a local delicacy to Britain's favorite dish. It appeared in "The Art of Cookery, Made Plain and Easy" by Hannah Glasse in 1747. Glasse was one of the most famous food writers of the time, and the popularity of her book spread the word of the Yorkshire pudding. This distinguished the light and crispy nature of the batter puddings made in this region from batter puddings created in other parts of England. Back then, the puddings were flatter than they are served today and would be served as a first course filled with thick gravy to help to suppress the diner’s appetite for expensive meat with cheap, plentiful ingredients. The main course of meat and vegetables would traditionally be served with a white sauce, as the gravy used up for the pudding. Poorer households couldn’t afford meat, and would use dripping, flour, eggs and milk to make puddings which would be served with gravy as the only course. Then there was another recipe by Mrs. Beeton, another of Britain's famous food writers of the 19th century, but her 1866 recipe omitted one of the fundamental rules for making Yorkshire pudding: the need for the hottest oven possible. The recipe was also erroneous in instructing the cook to bake the pudding for an hour before placing it under the meat. Yorkshire folk supposedly blamed her error on her southern origins.

The point of traditional Yorkshire pudding was identified in its previous name, dripping pudding. The batter was placed in a large pan into which had been allowed to drip the fat and juices of meat roasting on a spit over the fire. Once the pan had been heated in the fire and the fat was bubbling, the batter was poured into it and placed under the roasting meat as it continued to turn on the spit, thus catching all the remaining drippings. Meat was very expensive through much of the eighteenth century, and none of it was wasted, even the drippings produced when it was roasted. The fat from the meat drippings provided crucially needed calories, particularly for men doing heavy manual labor. The drippings also imparted a rich flavor to the Yorkshire pudding, and the high heat needed to roast meat was necessary to ensure the pudding would rise and had a light and crispy texture.

Traditional Yorkshire pudding was not served with the roasted meat, it was served before, as an appetizer or starter course. The pudding was cut into smaller pieces which were served drenched with the gravy made from the roasted meat. It is generally believed that this was done to take the edge off the diners’ appetites so that they would be satisfied with the small portions of the much more expensive meat which would be served during the second course. In poorer households, the children would receive only Yorkshire pudding and gravy, while the adults were served both the pudding with gravy and the roasted meat. Since the gravy was usually all consumed with the first course on the Yorkshire pudding, the meat and vegetables which typically comprised the second course were served with parsley or a cream sauce. Though Yorkshire pudding could be made with any roasting meat, the eighteenth-century Englishman was very fond of his roast beef. Thus, by the turn of the nineteenth century, roast beef and Yorkshire pudding had become a quintessential traditional meal throughout England. Even before the Regency, roast beef and Yorkshire pudding were a favorite Sunday dinner, especially among the middle and upper classes. There were even many among the aristocracy who enjoyed such a meal.

Going back to the mention roast beef with yorkshire pudding as common in workhouses on Christmas Day, a ballad was written by George Robert Sims for the Christmas of 1877. It served as a criticism of the harsh conditions in English and Welsh workhouses under the 1834 Poor Law

Regarding the in-game dish, from the looks of it, the roast beef is being served in a large Yorkshire pudding, which isn't too abnormal either (ex: places in Yorkshire sometimes might serve your dinner in a large pudding)

[onboardsorasora]

Absolutely obsessed with ur tennis AU. Cannot wait for more instalments.

🥺���� omg hi! I cherish every ask I get about this au (honestly because I don't expect them) incidentally I wrote this yesterday during the Ladies' Finals.

Part 7 | Part 9

Pt 8 (how have we gotten here already?!)

Daniel wiped the sweat off of his brow as he cycled, in an attempt to cool down his body. He made a face when he felt the grit of clay still on his palm from when he had fallen onto his back in relief of his success.

He'd made it to the semis, by the skin of his ballsack. His opponent had a lot of unforced errors in the last few sets, mistakes he made that gifted Daniel with the points needed to gain advantages.

He felt Michael clapping him on the back, no doubt breathing a sigh of relief that they made it through.

"That was a fuckin' close one." Daniel greeted.

"But you made it. We live to fight again." Micheal, ever the optimistic one.

"C'mon, let's get you through media." Blake chimed, looking up from his phone to smile.

Daniel nodded blearily, exhausted. The match has gone on forever, they had been fairly evenly matched. His opponent tended to have more bad days than good and it was unfortunate for Daniel that today was one of his good ones. They made a charismatic pair though, so he knew at the very least, they gave the world a show.

Clambering off the bike, he accepted a cool towel from Micheal and dragged it down his face and neck in appreciation. He traded his sweaty match worn shirt (designed to look like one of his favourite party shirts) for a dry version of the same and the three men followed a volunteer down the maze of hallways to meet the media.

Sitting behind the desk of a thousand microphones, Daniel drank some of his electrolyte drink from a sponsor approved bottle and smiled winningly at the crowd. The questions at the very least were all easy, mentally he knew he couldn't manage anything more taxing. They asked him about his opponent, how he felt about all of the exciting long rallies of the last few sets and how he felt about his opponent's outbursts.

"It always sucks to knock out a fellow Aussie, Nick and I'll have a pint later."

"Those rallies were some of the best I've had all year, I can always count on Nick to bring the heat haha."

"I mean, with Nick I know there's a possibility for anything, so I just focus on me and my own game."

He felt good, they didn't know who his opponent would be, that deciding match up not happening until tomorrow. So Daniel felt confident that they'd let him go about his way with no more questions to ask.

"One last question, if I may." Came a voice from the back of the room. Daniel smiled for the female journalist to continue. "This match up created a social media frenzy as one would expect for the two charismatic Australian players that everyone love to talk about. And we couldn't help but notice that you seem to have collected a new fan base. Outside of the usual tweets and messages from footballers, cricketers and other tennis players, we also saw an uptick from the motorsport community. Have you found some new friends?"

"I was wondering where we were going with this," Daniel chuckled which brought out a smattering of laughs from the group. "That was a long question, but yeah I guess I have. I was at the Monaco Grand Prix a few weeks ago and I started collecting new friends like Pokemon." He stretched his arms behind his head, flexing his biceps a little in his amusement.

"A few world champions too, Max Verstappen and Fernando Alonso to name a few." She continued, open ended.

Daniel's smile twitched at hearing Max's name in the context of tennis. At hearing Max being spoken about by people who didn't know him in his sport. He was sure he caught his reaction before anyone else clocked it but it definitely threw him for a second. He was tired but his media brain was always on auto, especially after that 'Australian Open' fiasco.

"They get the best tickets." He replied with a laugh. The assembled group of journos laughed with him and then he was allowed to leave. He did so gratefully, eager to get away from all the cameras and hot mics.

Michael greeted him with a bottle of water and Blake with his phone, the device still vibrating intermittently. Daniel could only imagine how uncontrollably it was going off just twenty minutes ago.

The brain rot guided him to the middle of his notification panel to his text thread with Max. His dick twitched heart flipped seeing that his last received message was an image. Surly Maxy Max wouldn't send him nudes while he was playing for his life!

Surreptitiously he looked around before opening the text thread, his heart thundering in his ears so much that he was not listening to whatever more than likely important information Blake was giving him. The messages loaded up and it was actually two photos. Both not nudes, disappointingly.

The first was a picture from above of Max, still in his driver's suit, folded down to his waist, sitting in his motor home and watching his phone screen intently. Past the brim of his ever present hat, Daniel could make out the brown of the clay of the Roland Garros courts on the rectangular device.

He couldn't fight the tender smile that bloomed on his face even if he wanted to. Something bloomed in his chest, an itch that he'd been starting to associate with Max.

If he couldn't fight the smile at the first picture, he sure as hell wasn’t planning to stop the happy grin from dominating his face at the second. A screenshot of ticket confirmation for the Men’s Semifinals at Stade Roland Garros with Max’s name peered up at him from the screen.

“What’s got you so chuffed?” Micheal asked warily.

“Max is coming to the semis.” Daniel grinned at the two men who rolled their eyes in fond exasperation. He deserved it, he knew he’s been insufferable lately. But he just couldn’t help it.

“You sure you can focus without making googly eyes?” Blake teased.

“I’ll be focused I swear!”

“DR not sure if you know this but you can’t suck his dick while you play.” Micheal deadpanned, smirking as Daniel doubled over in honking laughter, drawing the eyes from people lingering in the wide hallway.

“Oh shit, what if I have to play Novak…maybe he shouldn’t come…” Daniel stopped walking, his face going through multiple complicated emotions. He wanted Max to watch him play for sure, but if he had to play Novak he wasn’t sure if he’d want Max there for the possibility of him being destroyed.

“Let’s not think like that, you don’t even know if it’ll be Novak. We cross that bridge when we get to it, besides, you can beat Novak.” Blake with the logic ladies and gentlemen.

“Just have Max promise you like a blowjob if you win or something. Give you that extra bit to play your heart out.” Aaand trust Mikey to bring the extra logic.

[theverynerdypikachu]

A Hail to Skadi

~ I know, bad pun. This prayer is for the Cold Lady, the one who incidentally helped me tough through a blooming cold as I was learning to shoot, which resulted in me blowing the target off the post because my aim took a sudden uptick in improvement. Invoking her during that lead to ritual a few weeks later, and I feel it may be best to write something for her today. Washed my hands and now I'm ready. ~ Hail Skadi, Huntress Of The Mountains, the Cold One, the Resilience of Winter. 'Twas you that fateful day showed, when I felt my energy soaring with nature around me. You teach me that not every day has to be a down one, especially as the days get shorter, nights getting longer. Humans like their warmth, and sometimes, the warmth of the hearth after a good hunt is more than enough. Behind all the dark and cold, there is a light, and a hearth alive with that I seek. For this, I praise and remember you. Keep us this winter, that we may know peace in the harsher days to come, and I shall work to keep the hearth burning, and the home protected from the beating winds and weather inclement. To you, I shall devote all the time I can in nature. So let it be.

[creamypudding]

personal update

Exercise related update.

It's been 13 weeks now and I'm still following through on my exercise routine. That's a huge resounding success in my books.

Some hings have changed a bit though. Like I don't exercise every day. I've been lax on the weekends these past few weeks, though have justified it to myself knowing I was going to have a lot of incidental exercise over the weekend with way too much walking happening.

I'm also more open to doing longer stints of exercise 20-25 minutes rather than just short and sharp things to get it over and done with.

That being said, I'm at a point now where I'm plateauing on the weightloss so I'm trying to shake things up a bit, shifting gears from purly cardio to mixing in weight training minimum 3 days a week.

I enjoy the DOMS and try to change up the types of exercises I do when I'm not feeling sore from them anymore. I'm hoping I'll start seeing a shift in my weight again soon as I've been teetering around the same weight for the past 3 weeks. It's not stressing me out or severely disappointing me. I'd still like things to keep moving though.

To date I've worked off 7 kgs, which is 15.4lbs to you imperial weirdos out there. That's about halfway to the weight I need to get to, to consider myself a 'healthy bmi'. Of course acknowledging that BMI is bullshit and doesn't take a whole lot of other things into consideration.

But I think my target weight which sits in that BMI range is realistic and doable, so I'm hoping to see some improvement in weight loss soon.

I'm being a bit more lax in my eating, taking in more calories especially since I'm focusing on more muscle mass. Fingers crossed, please and thank you.

Though not my official weigh in day, I did check my weight today and am lower than I've been the past two weeks, but still not low enough to be out of my plateauing limboland.

No matter what happens next I'm still very proud of myself for having gotten into a routine. And it's a good one because I'm not feeling super discouraged despite the scale not shifting where I want it to go.

It's my birthday real soon and I'm going to get some dumbbells so I can be more comfortable and do more intense workouts. At the moment I'm making do, using kettlebells and plates for the exercises, but dumbbells will be so much better.

Really looking forward to continuing the fitness journey I'm on. I'm feeling more energetic when I have to do physical things. I hopped on the treadmill a couple of weeks ago and saw a huge improvement in my cardiovascular fitness, so that's a huge boon. My clothes are looser on me and I am in desperate need of new jeans as my old pair is super baggy now. Not too happy that I also need to buy new bras very soon, esp if the weight starts coming off again, as I had just bought a couple of expensive ones in January. But oh well.

People are commenting on noticing that I've lost weight and I really like my legs. I've always had big calves but they have slimmed down a whole heap which makes me happy. And all in all I'm very glad I have lost weight because I had to attend a video shoot for work, so I'm glad I wasn't captured on film at my heaviest 😅

Hopefully I'll be back with more good weightloss news in a few more months. And if nothing else, as long as I can keep this routine up I'm already a winner. No matter what my body does.

[frogsandfries]

I feel like I need more than two days off every week, especially with this schedule. I am having such a difficult time adjusting to this new schedule. I think it's the fact that they changed it so close to daylight savings. I'm pretty sure I've never changed schedules around DST--and never while working from home.

Also, I think a certain possession of mine is definitely in need of emergency replacement. It finally met its end after almost five years, which is a rather respectable life for a piece of cheap Chinese manufacturing. Urrrggggghhhhhh!!!!

Anyway, I feel like crap. I think not leaving the house when I wanted to because I couldn't think of where I wanted to go was a bad decision. I just had to do some housekeeping and I knew I was going to want a nap. Then they're supposed to do this inspection thing.......

You wouldn't believe the giant wad of hair, and all the dust, there was SO. MUCH. like, I don't know if it was like........ somehow the cat litter?? Or just.... desert dust? Ewwwwww what if the previous resident just vacuumed and the carpet didn't get wet cleaned?

Tomorrow I have to get the litter vacuumed up. Vacuuming seems like one of those things, like when you're living in apartment, there just Is a Proper Time of Day, to vacuum, and in taking a nap today, I missed the window to vacuum the litter.

I wonder, if we'd had this vacuum--a vacuum that isn't in need of repairs that'll never happen--how much filth would be in that carpet, given the ex wore their shoes inside. Heathen.

Anyway, the Tumblr book for my 2012 posts is starting to get into November, and first, Canva is letting me add way more pictures than I thought I'd be able to, which means, second, that this book is a ton bigger than I'd expected--and that's before the additional, minimum five, pages that I'll need to add once I get everything resized and moved around. That also means I'll probably also need to re-size my expectations. I wasn't assuming I'd have to step up my expectations to at least two books per year, but perhaps even three. Like, it was a vague possibility before, but now I'm reassessing my estimate to possibly three books per year--three respectably thick tomes, possibly hard-cover big. I'm also rethinking my color choices for my covers, to expand the color options. Incidentally and kind of off to the side, I'm also thinking of including my photo archive into this retrospective. However, the photo books are going to be 8×11. They cannot be any smaller.

I broke off of that for a while, put more pages into the Canva project for Lapsarian. Not many, maybe a couple chapters before I moved from that to fiddling with the mug. I think part of what makes this Stosphia Tumblr retrospective hard is, partly all the cringe, but also, that twenty-year-old had a really hard time. Like. Damn.

I've always had a hard life, but if I'd blogged about it into the internet from the time I was twelve, I maybe wouldn't be able to minimize that if I ever turned to face it from the future. It's probably better that I didn't start preserving my life like this until I was about twenty, when I was finally starting to become aware of it and also, when I started to move away from the locust of the pain.

Like, this was so much. The only way to get over it and get through it was to just...... minimize and forget.

Anyway, facing that, facing past me is a lot and it's kinda hard.

[smart-ass-comments]

“Are You Okay?”

…admittedly, people irritate me. Especially now, around this time of year. Idk what it is, but every stranger these days is just WAY too much for me. With that said, I’ve had a more neutral way of greeting people and checking them into my hotel. That is to say, I don’t smile. Tbh, it’s helped me save a LOT of energy.

Today, I’m in my back office because we’ve been slow the past couple weeks. I see on my camera that 2 people have walked into the lobby. They look at the desk and are visibly dejected when they don’t see a human behind it. Instead, they see a sign telling them how to get the human’s attention (🛎️).

The woman wants to ring the bell. The man is adamantly against this idea. He goes to the bathroom. She stands at the desk for nearly 2 minutes alone (I timed it). He comes back from the bathroom, confused at why no one is at the desk yet. She finally rings the bell.

All the while this is happening, my irritation is growing. I put the sign and the bell out for a reason, and people still don’t do what it says. They opt for a “less rude” way to get my attention (coughing, jingling keys, tapping the desk—I’m not gonna run out in the lobby for every fucking noise I hear! If you need me, ring the fucking bell.). It probably would have been better if I couldn’t see them on camera, but that didn’t happen.

Anyway, I go out to the lobby and greet them. By that, I mean I say hello and wait for them to tell me what they want.

They… didn’t even have a reservation. The guy was on his phone wondering why he couldn’t make a reservation online. I said that if it’s not allowing him to make a reservation, then we must not have availability. He keeps trying, and he eventually succeeds.

I go to his reservation, ask for his ID and the card he used. He says to me,

“Are you okay? You look tired.”

If I’m not mistaken, which I’m not, we haven’t met before. He doesn’t know me, and I don’t know him. So I say to him,

“I’m fine. This is just my face.”

Because WHY THE FUCK WOULD YOU SAY THAT TO A STRANGER?????

He replies,

“Oh okay, I was just waiting on a smile, but I guess you can’t judge a book by its cover.”

🙃🙃🙃

The rest of the check-in process goes on with him complaining about the cost of things like parking and incidentals. Made me glad I didn’t waste a smile on him.

[jaskiersvalley]

Feral jaskier and himbo geralt are always lovely!!! “So many questions and not enough brain cells” was absolutely MAGNIFICENT

Nonnie, I am so happy you liked that line. It gave me a chuckle to write it too. Feral Jaskier and himbo Geralt are such a delight, I now feel the need to write a little more for you. Movie stars, stunt doubles and idiots ahoy!

Incidentally, this also seems to fit my @sugar-and-spice-witcher-bingo square ‘sharing a brain cell’.

Prompt: Sharing a brain cell Relationships (romantic/platonic/etc): Geralt/Jaskier, Lambert/Eskel/Cahir/Aiden Rating: T Content Warnings: None Summary: Geralt is the star of a TV series with Jaskier as his on screen arch nemesis. Thankfully that rivalry doesn’t carry into real life.  

The set was like a second home by that point. Geralt spent a good nine months of the year there, the crew feeling like family. It was their fifth season of filming, Geralt couldn’t quite get tired of the monster of the week format though. He loved it, loved how cheesy it was and the fact that it was a production that didn’t bait or bury their characters. The natural chemistry he’d had with Jaskier made it so much easier too. They had kissed on screen enough times that he was intimately familiar with the shape of Jaskier’s lips and the taste of the lip balm he wore. That had started three seasons ago and Geralt had been quietly wishing they could kiss away from the cameras too. So he had been planning, even seeking out the advice of those he trusted - namely Eskel and Lambert.

That had been a surprise friendship that Geralt had discovered. Eskel was brought in as he stunt double for more tricky shots. Usually, Geralt liked to do his own stunts but falling off a horse at a gallop was a little beyond him. As was surviving Jaskier’s rather flamboyant fighting style. Just for a laugh Geralt had sat in on a few of Jaskier’s training session and he was so very torn between laughing his arse off and feeling sorry for Cahir who was doing his best to help them train for their fight scenes. For all his patience and expertise, Jaskier seemed determined to add his own flair. The number of times Jaskier accidentally smacked Geralt, Eskel and Cahir during training and on takes was truly staggering. It could have been a blooper reel all on its own.

Thankfully it was a short day, something about a number of the crew requesting the evening off. As it was towards the end of filming, they were within the time budget, it had been declared that they could all have the evening off.

“Just make him a home cooked meal,” Eskel advised. “Guys love that, trust me.”

“It work for you?” Geralt was a little sullen and sceptic. He didn’t think a home cooked meal was what Jaskier would want. On screen they were enemies with a terrible habit of falling into bed. The reality probably wasn’t so far off either. Though, at least, they had become friends after a rocky start.

“Would I be celebrating my fifth anniversary this evening if it didn’t?” There was no small amount of entertainment in Eskel’s face. “It’s not like my looks are what draw anyone in.”

That had been an unfortunate accident from before Geralt’s time. Some pyrotechnic stunt had gone horribly wrong and left Eskel with the scars. If it hadn’t been for those and the different coloured hair, Geralt was sure they could have been mistaken for brothers, if not twins. Still, now Eskel only worked on sets where Lambert was the one in charge of anything fire related. Which was just as well because Geralt liked Lambert, enjoyed trading barbs with him whenever their paths crossed. As Geralt’s fame climbed, he got to ask for more and more things in contracts and, as he was fond of Eskel, he asked for him as a stunt double whenever he could and then asked for Lambert if the set called for it. It was nice to have so much power and be able to work with those he liked. Interestingly, Cahir was fast becoming another person who Geralt got on with quite well. That wasn’t to say Geralt wasn’t scared shitless of him at the start. Nobody should know so much about fighting with so many weapons without having a very colourful past - one that Cahir refused to talk about. Still, the guy was good at his job and Geralt could talk to him, so his advice was sought out too.

“Just tell him. Bring him something you know he will like. Show an interest in him and his life outside of set.”

For the first time ever, Geralt felt that Cahir was in a rush. He wasn’t quite as patient and measured as usual.

“Excited for the evening off?” he asked, trying to be friendly. And maybe he was practicing Cahir’s advice on him so he could be sure it worked when he talked to Jaskier.

A soft, shy smile crossed Cahir’s face, making him look younger and much less severe. “That obvious? It’s my anniversary today. I want to make it special.”

“Maybe bring them a gift that they’ll like?” Geralt offered with an amused smile. “I have it on good authority that it works.”

Laughing, Cahir clapped Geralt on the shoulder. “Best of luck. Now go get your man.”

Finding Jaskier wasn’t an issue, Geralt just had to follow the sound of laughter and singing. Unsurprisingly, Jaskier was sat with a gigantic sparkler while Lambert was packing away. Those two were a dangerous combination at the best of times and Geralt knew Jaskier had, on more than one occasion, dropped by the writers’ room to posit new ideas that centred around more pyrotechnics. The ideas had obviously come from Lambert but they were mostly good so got used surprisingly frequently.

“Aha! My companion for the evening has arrived!” Jaskier hopped off the box he had been swinging his legs off and approached Geralt. “What say you? Dinner. You and me. We enjoy this rare evening off with some good company and good food.”

“Sounds good,” Geralt agreed readily, it saved him having to ask Jaskier.

Turning back, Jaskier waved at Lambert. “Enjoy your anniversary this evening! Make sure you can walk properly tomorrow though!”

Another anniversary. While Geralt had been feeling quite confident about asking Jaskier out, the news that it was yet another person’s anniversary somewhat ruined the idea. Geralt knew Jaskier liked to be unique, adored being different to everyone else. To ask him out now and share an anniversary with three people they knew, it felt a little less special. Mood taking a bit of a dive, Geralt slouched next to Jaskier as they walked towards the cars.

“Why the glum face?” Typically, nothing went over Jaskier’s head. “Would you prefer a night of solitude?”

Shaking his head, Geralt resigned himself to the knowledge that Jaskier would wheedle until he got the truth out of him. So he saved them both a lot of time and agony. “It’s stupid.”

“Nothing’s ever stupid, just needs to be valued correctly.”

“I wanted to ask you something. But make it special. It’s not special though, not today. Maybe I’ll try tomorrow.”

That made not a lick of sense to Jaskier and he frowned, bumping his shoulder against Geralt’s. “Just ask.”

“But it won’t be special. Three other couples we know have an anniversary today.”

A soft laugh from Jaskier pulled him from his grumblings. “So many people have their anniversaries every day. It’s not like one single day can be declared as only one couple’s.”

For someone so smart, Jaskier sure wasn’t putting the pieces together to solve just what Geralt was trying to say.

“But would you really want an anniversary when Lambert, Eskel and Cahir each have theirs too?” It was actually a little odd, now that Geralt thought of it. Three good friends all sharing an anniversary.

There was a moment of silence before Jaskier was rounding on Geralt, hands on his shoulders to stop him mid-walk.

“Dear heart, please tell me I’m hearing this wrong. Firstly, if I was so lucky as to have an anniversary, I wouldn’t care who I shared it with. I would love to simply have one, especially if you’re offering to have one with me. Secondly, please tell me you know why those three all have their anniversary date today.”

Mind whirring, Geralt tried to process everything Jaskier had just said. He picked the easier bit to reply to first. “They were on a night out together and met their partners at the same time? Bit like how people date within the same friendship groups or even date siblings?”

Face falling, Jaskier cursed under his breath. “And I thought I wasn’t being obvious enough. Oh dear. Geralt, those three, it’s their anniversary together. As in they’re all dating each other. And Aiden is at home, waiting for them. He got the day off today too.”

Geralt’s jaw fell slack. He couldn’t quite believe it. “They-they’re together?!”

“And they’ve not been subtle at all about it!” Jaskier was laughing. “I love you but you are so dumb, I swear.”

That forced Geralt back into the moment and he smiled. “I love you too.”

He didn’t expect an enthusiastic kiss out in the open but he really didn’t mind it at all. With a huff of a laugh Geralt returned it, arms wrapping around Jaskier’s waist.

“Come on then,” Jaskier finally said as he broke away. I believe we have our zero-th anniversary to have and make a solid start on new traditions. I think we should order takeaway as a treat for our anniversaries from now on.”

Laughing, Geralt linked their hands. He liked the idea of anniversary traditions. Jaskier most definitely had the best ideas.

[purple-dahlias]

recovering- chapter 2

word count: 1742

trigger warnings: eating disorders, disordered eating, mental health

hello! this is the second chapter of recovering. it’s taken a while (oops) but i hope you enjoy <3

(also chapter 1 can be found here)

The days bleed by, agonisingly slow. Sarah goes about her last days in the emergency department almost completely on autopilot, in a daze. If she had to describe it, it was as though there was a wall separating her from everyone else, everything just felt far-off and somehow muffled. Perhaps it was an overreaction, but things just feel different somehow, ever since match day. Even the way the others behaved towards her.

How Natalie had reacted when Sarah had told her. Polite with her congratulations, but somehow different. Maybe even apologetic, as though she herself had been hoping to be told something different. And maybe Sarah was overanalysing, picking things apart too closely, reading into them when there was nothing to be found. But still. It only contributed towards making her doubts more pronounced, every part of her screaming out: you’ve made a mistake. And how was she supposed to tell anyone that? Especially when she had seemed so dead set on pathology. How was she supposed to turn it around? There was only herself to blame.

None of Sarah’s thoughts do any good for her, and she wishes, oh how she wishes she could turn back time. That feeling, that unhappiness, seeps into every part of her, taking a vice-like hold over her, rooting deep within. This is supposed to be her future, the rest of her life. And already, she’s completely messed things up. So she does what she always does. Retreats into herself.

But it’s on her last day, incidentally the night of her graduation, that things take a turn. Even then, she just can’t let it go. Can’t shake the feeling that she had walked into something so very completely wrong. And where does that land her? The nurses’ station in the PICU, waiting for little Michael’s test results to come back from the labs. Dr Manning had already told her to go, she had a graduation to attend after all, but Sarah couldn’t. She can’t leave now. Not until she knows Michael, lying a few feet away from her in a cot fighting for his life, is going to pull through.

It means she misses her graduation, but what does it matter? Her mother’s not coming. There’s no one else to see her. It’s of no real importance to her, she tells herself. It’s only a ceremony, a formality. She’ll still be a doctor without going. And in any case, it was worth it, because now, now she knew, Michael was going to be okay. The hug she gets, the smile from Doctor Manning, the way she gets be the bearer of good news: there was a happy ending to this story. It was worth it. All of it.

Apart, she remembers, from the fact that this wouldn’t be her life anymore. Today marked the day it was all over.

What should be a momentous occasion almost feels like a cruel joke, opening the box to find her lab coat emblazoned with pathology across the chest. She’d made it, she was Dr Reese now. But it was all just more than a little bittersweet. Even with Ethan, for all his kindness and congratulatory remarks, she can’t find it in her to be completely happy, as she knows she should.

The guilt wells up inside of her, until she can’t quite bare it any longer. Until there’s nothing else for her to do.

It’s a rash decision, one she’s sure will send the others in the ED reeling when they find out. But it’s her only option now, she doesn’t quite know what else to do. And Dr Shore telling her she won’t have a job anymore, well… it’s not like she hadn’t already thought of that.

For the first time in a very long while, Sarah Reese has no plans, no direction. Nothing. And yes, whilst it was a completely self-made problem, it was still more than a little daunting. To have your whole future, which had only moments ago been filled, now completely empty, stark and uninviting. A perfect blank canvas stretching out for miles ahead. No prospects.

One conversation and she’s gone. One conversation and it’s all over. No residency, no reason to stay: as far as she’s aware, there are no other residency posts open at Gaffney. But nowhere to go, either. It’s completely ludicrous, what she’s gone and done. Even if Dr Charles tells her she’s going to be “just fine,” it doesn’t feel that way. Not one bit. In many ways, it’s more like the world has ended for her. And for her, maybe it has.

–

There were not many things that remained constant in Sarah Reese’s life. But one that was, was the only thing that she had left now. And it’s all too easy to collapse into herself, let it fill up the gaping, empty spaces inside of her.

Her apartment seems darker, colder, lonelier these days. Which she knows seems irrational, because physically, nothing had changed inside of it. But it still all just all felt wrong. Like she had stepped into the twilight zone, was living someone else’s life.

She was alone now, completely alone. She knew it was only a matter of time before Joey stopped calling, stopped texting, stopped trying to go and get her to meet him. That was the way. Sarah always pushed everyone away, that was just how it went. Yes, she had been alone before. In grade school, at college, in med school. But this was different. Then, she had been alone but alongside other people, even if it was on the outskirts of their lives, it wasn’t total isolation. This, however: she was an island. A shell of her former self. A shadow, an outline of a person. And it’s an awful thought, but it crosses her mind, more than she’d care to admit. If she died, if anything were to happen to her, would anyone notice; who would care?

“You have nothing,” she says aloud to no one in particular, glancing at her reflection in the mirror, the morning of the fourth day after she had quit pathology. It was all true. What was she to do now? There had always been a goal to work towards. Finish high school. Get into med school. Graduate. Secure a residency post. And now? What was there for her?

Time slips by. Hours, days, and somehow, strangely, weeks, without Sarah quite noticing. What she does with that time, if asked, she would never be able to say. And not for lack of trying—it all just passes in a haze. Her lab coat remains crumpled at the bottom of her bag, stethoscope discarded in a drawer in the living room to gather dust. She won’t be needing either of them. Laundry begins to pile up, but Sarah doesn’t care. All she needs is the blue cotton sweatshirt she’s been wearing for days on end, the fabric softer against her skin, hanging far looser from her frame than it had ever done before. Groceries go neglected, not that she needs much. She finds she can hardly stomach anything much these days, apart from wafer crackers with peanut butter, the occasional bowl of cereal (without milk, of course).

The isolation doesn’t help; it makes everything a thousand times worse, she doesn’t know where to begin. Now there’s completely no one to hide from, no one to pretend for. Things are bad, and Sarah sinks into it. It’s like second skin. There again, there when she was absolutely alone.

When she finally manages to drag herself out from her apartment, summer is well and truly in full swing. She’s taken up long walks, through the parks and the streets of Chicago. Sometimes aimless, sometimes with purpose. Slowly she gets round to groceries, though never quite buying enough. But it’s not as though she uses it all up, anyway. Better to undercut, she thinks. Things seem to last longer these days, anyhow.

By the fourth week, Sarah knows this can’t go on. Her doing nothing. As much as she feels she has no energy, still no direction. Something has to change. In any case, with no job now, she needs to find a way to pay her rent at least.

She must be the most overly qualified barista in all of Chicago, with an MD attached to her name. Not that anyone knows that. Not that any of them would care in the slightest. She’s not so sure she deserves that title anyway, what with the way things turned out. But it feels at least a little better, having something to do, a little more routine, a little more structure to her days. It’s not ideal. No newly graduated doctor wants to be manning a till and serving coffee, but this was her life now. Small, quiet, trimmed down to almost zero people. The only person she still saw from her life Before was Joey. She’s pretty sure he’ll stop coming soon. And she’s right.

The upside, if there is an upside to any of this, is that Sarah Reese has always been good at working with what she had. She was used to getting things done alone, used to her own company, her own thoughts, however awful they might get. Just like in college. And medical school. She had been alone. Been there for herself. Pulled herself along. Her own champion and cheerleader in one. And maybe it hadn’t quite worked out perfectly; she hadn’t quite escaped without the scars, but still. She was here. And that had to count for something, didn’t it?

Sometimes, she thinks that when Will had asked her, she should have said something. What exactly, she doesn’t quite know. But maybe something. Because now, no one notices it happening this time. How groceries stretch further and further. How the gaps between her meals increase and the portion sizes decrease. How the dark circles under her eyes only grow. How she’s now a little more shaky, a little more unsteady. The dogs at the shelter she volunteers at on Saturdays don’t notice. The others on her shift at the coffee shop don’t notice. No one does. And it’s fine, it’s really all fine. Because there’s nothing wrong and Sarah’s never had a problem. Never.

And this is her life now, anyway. Just her, her apartment, the coffee shop a few blocks over and the dog shelter on Saturdays. That was her lot.  

[fandomlovingfreak]

Incidentally In Love (4/?)

Charlie Weasley/Reader

Rating: T and up (Triggers: Pregnancy and maybe commitment)

Masterlist Link I AO3 Link

Summary: Sleeping with Charlie Weasley was easy. He was charming, and handsome, and was quite talented in bed... Finding out you're pregnant with your casual fuck buddies baby was not easy.

Reader's journey through co-parenting, an overbearing Molly Weasley who wants reader to marry her son to give the baby a "real family", and maybe falling a tiny bit in love with her baby daddy.

Notes: POV change (it’s Charlie’s POV) after the second *** break! Hope you enjoy! 

Enjoy

"What do you want?" he asks as he glances over the Prophet at me. I'm trying not to inhale my food even though I'm starving, and it is seven A.M. on a Friday. I'll probably be a tad bit late to work. My boss gets it, though. He and his wife have three of their own, and he's gone through his fair share of pregnancy weirdness.

"What do I want? For what?" I wipe a bit of jelly off my lip with my finger, popping the digit in my mouth, so I don't waste any of it.

"For the baby." His nose is a little red from the cold November air that always seems to creep into my house no matter how many times I fix it with magic or any of the numerous Muggle ways.

"Like, gender?" I tilt my head, wondering where this came from.

"Yeah. Do you want one or the other, especially?"

I think about it for a second. Secretly I want a boy. I want the baby to be all Charlie Weasley, but a little girl could be nice as well. Honestly, as long as the baby is healthy. That's what matters. "I don't know, really. Why? Do you have a preference?"

"I think I want a girl," his blue eyes light up, "there are just so many boys in the family already. It could be nice to have a little girl." Oh, that's a sweeter answer than I expected. I don't even know why I expected Charlie to want a boy. Maybe because of how having a son is seen as some sort of 'continuation of a name' prized by many men? I should have known better than to expect Charlie Weasley to be anything like other men. 

"That's sweet," I grin, "what would you name her if it were up to you?"

He looks thoughtful for a moment, "I don't know. If I had my way, you know, I'd choose something related to dragons."

"Hebridean Black Weasley has a ring to it, ya know?" 

Charlie rolls his eyes, "That's now what I meant, and you know it, (y/n) (y/l/n)."

"What did you mean then?" I lean forwards in my chair. I'm eager to know if he's come up with something already.

He flushes slightly, looking at his hands, "Maybe name them after one of my dragons?" The laughter spills from my lips when what he said registers. "It's not that funny!" Charlie's so red his hair blends in with the brilliant hue of his face.

"You can't expect me to tell my little girl someday that her father named her after one of the dragons he looks after, Charles!"

He grins, "fine. I guess that would be sort of odd."

Shaking my head, I rub a hand down the barely-there swell of my stomach, "Luckily, we have a lot of time to decide on names, or else you'd end up with quite an interesting name, baby." I glance up at Charlie, who's watching me intently. "What?"

"Nothing," he picks the Prophet back up, hiding behind the pages. Not like it does much to hide him.

"Well, we better be off then. I've been late already twice this week, and I can only use this pregnancy as an excuse so many times before someone's bound to question me."

***

I get through the day without any truly eventful moments. Ever since I made it known to my superiors of my condition, they've been giving me more desk work than usual. Not like I did a ton of work outside of my desk, but the paperwork seems to stack up to the ceiling nearly every day now. 

Per usual, Charlie got me for lunch, which was a nice way to stretch my legs after a morning of dull cases.

"How are you feeling?" He asked like he always did when we walked to the same muggle cafe we went to when I told him I was pregnant. It had become somewhat of a little tradition to go there at least once a week since that day.

"I'm okay. Just needed to stretch my legs. I'm not sure why they think I should sit my entire shift."

"They're probably just making sure you don't get too tired." He shrugs.

I laugh, "I feel like if anything, I'm more tired sitting there all day."

"I could talk to them?" he offers. Charlie Weasley, always the chivalrous Gryffindor.

"Thank you, but I don't think I want my baby daddy coming into my department to tell off my boss." I grin at him.

"Well, if it's bad for the baby and you, then I ought to intervene. But, if that's really not what you want, I'll just have to make it up to you at home." Home? Charlie's been using words like this more frequently than before. It sounds so--domestic. And I can't blame him, honestly. He spends more time in my tiny flat than his parent's house.

Suddenly I'm wondering if...Should I just ask if he wants to move in? Does that make this easier? We can still only be co-parents--well, co-parent's who find themselves in the same bed every night and morning--and no, this is so weird and complicated already. But, how much easier can it get than just moving in together. Charlie won't miss anything then, and we can really effectively be parents. And when the baby comes, it's not like I can be away from them.

My words move faster than my mind, and I find myself blurting out a quick, "what if you moved in?" I'm mortified by myself immediately.

"You want me to move in?"

I open and close my mouth, trying to find my words, "well, you said 'home', and I was just thinking how you practically live in my flat already? And well, logistically, it makes the most sense if you want to be around for all of the babies firsts and everything--But, if you don't want to, I understand. It's a lot to ask..."

"I want to," he clears his throat, "I mean, I want to if that's really what you want."

"Is it going to be too confusing for your family to understand we're just living together because it's easier? Not because we're involved or anything?"

I think I detect a subtle change in his face like he's a little upset that I've brought this up. "No. It's fine. I don't care what they think."

"Okay. I just don't want to give your mother the wrong idea. Cause this is for the baby and simplicity for us." Why I add the last thought...I'm not sure. Maybe I'm convincing the both of us it's not some selfish...feelings thing. We're moving in together as of today because Charlie should be around for the babies' life; living in the same space is the easiest way for all three of us. There are no ulterior reasons why he's moving in, no sir.

"If she does, I'll talk to her." He looks down at the table for a moment.

"Okay, well, I mean, do you need to move anything big in?"

"I don't think I have much more to move in. Pretty much everything I use every day is already at your place."

"Well, then, Weasley..." I try to diffuse the tension by raising my brow and grinning at him, "I guess you're my new roommate."

He rolls his eyes, "Looks like it."

***

"Mum?" I walk in the front door to find my mother hunched over her knitting at the kitchen table. I kick my boots off as she sets down her needles. 

"Charlie! Where's (y/n)?" she comes round the table to kiss my cheek.

"Still at the Ministry finishing up some last-minute paperwork." 

"What a shame. I was just about to start another hat for the baby. What do you think she'd like yellow or purple?" The image of a newborn baby in a yellow hat makes my insides feel fuzzy. 

"Yellow?" I don't actually know if (y/n) would choose yellow, but I don't think she'd object.

"Perfect. Are you staying home tonight or heading back to (y/n)'s flat, dear?"

"Heading back. That's actually what I wanted to talk about. I'm moving in with (y/n)."

Mum's head shoots up, "You're moving in with her? Are you--"

I flush uncomfortably, "No! No, we're not together. (y/n) thought it would be best. I won't miss anything in the baby's life. Plus, we've become quite close, and I don't think she wants to be alone?" Molly Weasley looks like she wants to say something, and I'm pretty sure I know what she wants to say. But, we're not together, and moving in together won't change that. (y/n) made that pretty clear.

"You're sure--"

"I'm sure. It's for the best." She gives me a look, and I know she can detect that there's at least something else there for me.

Taglist: @paigeyisme @hannah220506

[canmom]

Animation Night 6.6: You Can (Not) Watch Eva

Hoi, weebs! This week is a special occasion: at long, long last, our patron saint Hideaki Anno has seen fit to bestow on us westerners the final entry in the Rebuild of Evangelion! All together now,

Mm. Now take a break, dude.

Jokes aside, hype train or not, I really am pretty damn excited. And while I thought the movie was gonna drop tomorrow, and I was going to show End of Evangelion or something like that tonight, it’s actually already here!

So what do we do?

Well, we download that shit immediately of course. Not every day you get to hop into a 4000 seed swarm.

(pictured: me steering animation night to a new course when I realised the movie was out)

However, if you’re like me, you might be a bit fuzzy on what happened in the Rebuild of Evangelion. After all, it’s been quite some time since we last watched Eva. So even though we’ve already watched the Rebuilds on Animation Night, I think we’re going to do our first (perhaps only) rerun since the year anniversary post, and watch them again.

This brings us to our second problem. Altogether, the Rebuilds of Evangelion run to 464 minutes, which is to say, slightly shy of 8 hours. If we started right now and watched without breaks, it would take us to... 4am. Which may be doable, but we’ll be exhausted by the time we get to the end. So let’s exercise a little prudence...

Instead, my plan is to split this Animation Night in two: tonight, we’ll rewatch 1.11 and 2.22, and if we can hold on just one more day, tomorrow we’ll enjoy this new spectacle.

Not much more to say than that! I wrote quite a bit about the Evangelion series - its historical significance, its strokes of aesthetic genius, its rather convoluted legacy - last time, so go read that post. Since then we have visited Anno on many other occasions, e.g. Animation Night 29 (Gunbuster and The Wings of Honneamise), Toku Tuesday 4 (Cutie Honey) and Toku Tuesday 10 (Shin Godzilla) to get ever more of a sense of his whole, thing. (Incidentally, he was also an animator on Macross. Mostly an explosions guy back then.)

Well, back then, it’s safe to say the Rebuilds made a favourable impression. They’re intriguing in the new story they’re telling with the familiar material, astonishing in terms of animation, and no less striking with their choices of imagery than the original series. Even the use of 3D CGI - which has a tough act to follow given how strong the traditional animation was at the key points of Eva, especially End of Evangelion - had a sufficient sense of design and composition that it could play to its strengths, like the intricate airship we see as the pace ramps up in 3.0.

On a narrative level, there is a clear emphasis on the emotional throughline rather than any technicalities of angels or robots, as seen vividly in the extended gay piano sequence in 3.0. A lot of thematic balls are up in the air...

...so it remains to be seen how they’ll bring this home - what this modern Anno’s trying to say, in contrast to his past self, by revisiting his most famous work. Are we, for example, right to interpret Mari (pictured above, sniffing Shinji) as Anno’s girlsona? Having moved past the hedgehog’s dilemma - a Shinji who is a little bolder, a little less prone to self-destruction - what is the question which he struggles with today? I’m sure we’ll see a lot of ink spilled on Interpreting this movie in the next few weeks! Hopefully I’ll get a chance to spill some myself!

Well, we’ll find out tomorrow. For now, let’s revisit some of the most spectacular animated films I’ve ever seen to juice up our hype glands (sorry) for tomorrow’s big answer. With the sheer weight of anticipation this film is carrying, it’s going to be hard for it to meet everyone’s projections and desires... but whatever it turns out to be, I’m sure it’s going to be interesting.

There is much to be said about the broader context of the Rebuilds - the exodus from Gainax to studios like Khara and Trigger, the key animators whose contributions give them such flair, the whole wodge of capitalist machinery that has built up behind this psychic nucleation point (almost any kind of product you can imagine has an eva merch version). I’m sure kVin’s going to have some interesting posts before long. But for now, let’s just enjoy the movies.

Animation Night 66 will be starting very shortly over at twitch.tv/canmom - showing Evangelion 1.11: You Are (Not) Alone and Evangelion 2.22: You Can (Not) Advance! And tomorrow, a special bonus Animation Night will bring us Evangelion 3.33: You Can (Not) Redo and, at last, Evangelion 3.0+1.0: Thrice Upon A Time.

[samshogwarts]

My review of 2020

Or: I say thank you.

First of all, sorry for the long post 😅. You guys know I don'tike long posts without a "read more under the line". But I nade the post with my mobile phone.... Aaaaaaaanyway. Also sorry for all the tags. I hope I don't annoyed someone with it <~<. So let's continue:

I think this year has been a particularly difficult year for everyone. As 2020 is drawing to a close, I mentally let the year pass again.

The bottom line is that I have to say that 2020 was turbulent for me, but not necessarily bad. Much good, but also bad, has happened. And I want to start with the bad things right away.

At the beginning of the year, my depression and eating disorder relapsed. I've always had trouble talking about it because I know my friends can't handle this issue. I felt pressured because they wanted to do things with me, but I couldn't. So I withdrew completely, hiding my emotions and wearing a mask.

At that time I created this blog. At first I didn't want to create my own content, just follow the content of @ladycibia, @hogwartsmystory and @kyril-hphm. Incidentally, that is also the reason why I call these 3 blogs the Big Three. So it's their fault that I'm here. Lol.

And then the first Hyops message came at the end of March. A very good friend of mine got Corvid-19 and lost the battle against the disease a few days later. I still remember how the news pulled the floor from under my feet. It feels like I completely lost faith in everything and I started to realize how dangerous this year could be. 

But life goes on and so I visited a friend and her family in early July. It was the anniversary of her husband's death, who was also a very good friend of mine. He died of cancer last year and I couldn't go to his funeral. So I wanted to stop by on the day he died. I actually thought I could do it. But when you read a friend's name on a tombstone for the first time.. Guys, that's a punch in the stomach like no other and I can't really describe how it feels. I had made up my mind not to cry in front of his wife or children because it was hard enough for them. Didn't work.

And of course this year meant to go one better.

Another friend of mine died of the virus in mid-August, leaving behind a wife and a child. Again, I was unable to attend the funeral. And to be honest, it still bothers me way more I want to admit. In two years I lost three wonderful people who meant a lot to me and I couldn't say goodbye to any of them. When I see the three of them again after my death, you can be sure I'll kick their butts for it.

But August was the worst month for me in many ways. In addition to the death of my buddy, my father's family also volunteered. And that means only one thing - trouble.  And properly. I haven't had contact with this family for over 12 years for good reason. Now one person from this family has passed away. And first of all, I don't really care if anyone of them would die. I don't even know the person who passed away. But I wasn't told either by my grandmother or my father. So my deadline to cancel the inheritance has expired. Of course it was debts. You have to know that the inheritance rights of my country are very complicated. The reason my father or grandmother didn't tell me about it was because they didn't want to bother with the paperwork. They always had the opportunity to contact me via Facebook or my half-sister. But that would mean work for them. And while I was walking from lawyer to lawyer to court to court, I was allowed to hear sayings from my grandmother that I apparently have achieved nothing in my life. Nice to know that some people never change. I'm still struggling with this matter to this day and will probably not be able to fully clarify this until the beginning of 2021.

At the end of October everything seemed to be taking its revenge and I passed out at a friend's house. Nobody knows exactly what happened until today, but my friend took me to the hospital where I had to stay one night. That was Halloween. And I'm such a big fan of hospitals hahahaha hahahaha. After that I was allowed to wear an ECG for 2 weeks and it turned out that my heart values ​​had deteriorated. Why not. Let's just take everything with us this year!

Rounding out the negatives this year was my (as a teenager) best friend's suicide. I have to say that I haven't had any contact with this person for 9 years. However, it is the one who cut herself in her youth and then called me afterwards because she didn't know what to do. It was also the one I tried to get into therapy for 2 years. But her mother was always against it. And it was exactly this mother who was standing in my mother's shop, telling her about her daughter's suicide and that I was probably in the farewell letter. I don't know exactly what it said, but the mother now blames me for her daughter's suicide. And do you know what's craziest about the whole thing? I agreed with her! I really thought it was my fault because I knew how sick my former friend was. Yet I was the one who ended the friendship (for many reasons that had nothing to do with her depression). And I still wonder what would have happened if I had acted differently.

But enough of the negative things! A lot of nice things happened this year too. Among other things, I have found a new job within my group, earn more money and have pleasant working hours. I've renovated my apartment and I've started saving money on a new one. My two nieces are now going to school and I am a proud aunt. My male best friend and his girlfriend (my best harry potter friend) are pregnant and are expecting their first child soon and my mother's health is better.

But one of the best things that happened to me this year is this blog.

I already mentioned that I actually only created this blog to stalk the Big Three. I didn't want my own content at all. But I discovered more and more blogs and these incredibly great MCs that I thought I wanted to do whole too. And so Samantha O'Connell was born.

I received so much great support and encouragement on this platform. I don't think many people even realize how much that means to me. Especially this year.

I have also found great and lovable people here, some of whom I also call my friends. Even if we come from other countries, speak other languages ​​and may never see each other in real life, you are my friends and I am grateful to know you.

@annabelle-tanaka-official : I'll start with you of course! XD on tumblr you are just my best friend. I don't write as much with anyone as I do with you. You are such an incredibly talented person and so warm hearted! Over the year we have invented so many insiders that soon nobody will know what we mean.  Be it the monster hug, or that my cats are your spies or our many RP scenarios, which I really enjoy and which always make me laugh. I thank you for that!! I love you so much and I am so glad that we are friends! *minster hug*

@lunasilvermorny / @lunasilvermore : you are next to you !!! XD the next person I write to almost every day. What started with a little conversation about among us has turned into a friendship. I can't tell you how much I'm looking forward to streaming with you next year (and this year)!!! You are such a good listener that strengthens me. Your support is so nice of you too! Just the fact that you have subscribed to my YouTube channel xD (because of the language I even have an idea). I'm looking forward to the next year with you! Thank you so much for dealing with my craziness and still likes me! 

@kyril-hphm : muahahahaha. You can't escape me !!! Yes, what should I say? One of my big three even made friends with me. One of my Senpais noticed me! And then it's a lovely fluffy marshmallow! I still think it's funny  that we have such similar circuits and hearts! Nevertheless you are an incredibly honest, loving and talented person. I've never told you before, but sometimes I stare (for 20 minutes +) at your drawings to improve my style (just not working so far). You are an honest person and I am happy every time we talk, or when you react to my content. I would like to say thank you for that too! You are great and you can trust yourself more.

@carewyncromwell : my Chinese fireball, my Disney princess. Yes, for me you exude the aura of a Disney princess and nothing can change my mind. So! You were one of the first friends I made here on tumblr and one of the first to write with me! I still remember how proud and nervous I was back then! Just when I was in the hospital on Halloween and couldn't sleep that night, you kept texting me and distracting me from my fear. That means a lot to me. You are such a creative and lovable person too. Ah, that's just amazing. Your comments or hashtags always make me grin or laugh. Thank you for all your support and help!

@catohphm : my fluffier Ravenclaw brother!!! Of course you can't be missing either. I also write with you almost every day and I thank you from the bottom of my heart for all your kind words and your support. I just love the energy between Samantha and Cato. And it's always fun to write RP with you!  Thank you for being such a lovely and kind person!

@mira-shard : MIRAAAAAAA! It's kind of funny how long we've basically walked next to each other without talking to each other. And now I don't want to miss you anymore! You are such a fun and happy person. Writing with you is just fun! I also love your cosplay photos. Someday I'll come to visit you, and then we'll do cosplay shootings together until the camera bleeds! I would also like to thank you for your support and your kindness. 

@sirfluffig : ha. I hope you didn't think you were escaping me! Where should I start with you? Maybe that you were one of the first to give me such lovely feedback on Samantha? Or this super funny stream and that you helped me to stream in English? Or just like that, when we talk about our MCs or pen and paper. It's definitely always fun. I want to thank you for that and I'm looking forward to playing together again soon (get Among us)

@nightrhea-hphm : * run into you in slowmotion * Night! My wonderful supportive Gremlin! I've grown very fond of them over the years. And your support and feedback are just amazing. I also love the friendship between Night and Samantha. I think it's very similar to ours, right? You are also such an incredibly creative and lovable person. You make you feel like it's ok to be who you are. Thank you!

Of course there are many, many more like @rosievixen, @wangxianforever000 , @mollydarling-hphm , @morningstarinwinter , @hogwarts9, @hphm-brooke , @raymondhope-writer , @nikyiscreepy , @immagrosscandy , @mizutoyama , @ariparri-hphm and many many more.

I want to thank you all for your encouragement, support and feedback. You are the reasons why I am adding more and more details to this blog, why I dared to start with the fan comic and many more. 

It's still so amazing for me to meet so many talented, creative, kind and funny people. 

This year showed me again that life isn't just black or white. Life is Grey. Good things and bad things happen. Sometimes one side more than the other side. But as long we are taking the next step, life wl continues. Just keep in mind, as like you support me, I want to support you. So if you ever wanna talk, no matter what, remember you guys can always contact me. 

I'm really looking forward to next year and already have so many plans. I can not wait any longer. Enjoy the last days of the year, stay safe and most important: they the way you are guys! 

Love you all so much. 

[wtfockinternational]

An article about wtFOCK translated from Dutch:

How wtFOCK conquers taboos through trial and error

wtFOCK: for one person a key player, for the other a rather strange combination of consonants. Young people can’t seem to stay away from the successful web series. The new season has started, so we can look back at the previous one. For three months many fans were glued to their screens for a sixteen-year-old’s coming-out. Did this pave a way for more and honest representation of LGBTQ+-problems, or did they occasionally stray from that path?

“‘Secret’ series wtFOCK became the most popular search term on Google in 2019”, various media reported in December. This news seemed to come as a surprise, because many people seemed to have never heard of the term, let alone the web series. And still the series could crown itself the proverbial king of last year’s Google. How did that happen?

The online series that arrived here from Norway mostly seems a hit with teenagers and young adults. In nine weeks’ time the third season got about 11.8 million online views, SBS Belgium said. In total around 400,000 young people between 15 and 34 would be watching the series.

The presumed reason for the success? Young people can follow the characters daily via their smartphones through short, real-time updates and real Instagram-accounts. So ideal in a world where watching linear television, especially for the younger generation, becomes more out of the question. Besides that the series is kept out of the media consciously, to preserve its authenticity and let young people discover it on their own. So far, so good, it seems.

Homosexual main character

Concretely wtFOCK follows the lives of young people in secondary school, where all kinds of teenage troubles don’t get avoided. Since the previous season more social problems are being discussed, too. The series tackled a topic that still hasn’t completely removed itself from the taboo atmosphere: homosexuality, a coming-out, and everything that comes with it. From absolute peaks to the sometimes painful lows we are witnesses to the bumpy road towards self-acceptance that sixteen-year-old Robbe experiences.

But is that a new thing, an LGBT-character in Flemish fiction? Florian Vanlee researches the LGBTQ+-representation in Flemish television series at Ghent University. He clarifies: “About 20 percent of productions is said to have a prominent LGBT-character. Regarding supporting characters, it’s about 33 percent. That’s a relatively large part.”

It does seem the first time that in a commercial youth television the full attention of the main character goes towards homosexuality. “It’s remarkable how instantaneously the focus explicitly goes towards homosexuality. wtFOCK is therefore a very valuable program”, Vanlee says. The question therefore arises how the new form of representation was received by the LGBTQ+-community.

About recognition and self-acceptance

Amver Maselis, a 20-year-old bisexual student from Hove, has been a fan of the original SKAM. When the series ended in Norway, she started to follow the other remakes. Therefore her interest also brought her to wtFOCK. Passionately she talks about a series which she clearly values a lot. “I’ve been following the project for several years, and despite the subtle differences between shows, the main topics are always portrayed nicely.”

Out of all the remakes she thinks wtFOCK is the best one. Then again, the Flemish version connects the most with her own environment. “Now that the series has arrived in Antwerp, in my own culture, it suddenly feels very close to home.”

It helps that she really recognizes herself in Robbe, the main character that comes out of the closet to his friends and family in his teenage years. “It touches me, because I notice that I’ve sometimes said or felt the same things. Back then it was a huge secret I kept to myself. Now I know that it’ll all be fine,” says Amber. ‘ For other young people the series could be encouraging, like SKAM was for me three years ago, when I had just come out of the closet and I has to learn to accept myself.”

22-year-old Fabio Olivieri from Antwerp seems to share that opinion. As a teenager he barely saw a gay character to which he could relate. It comforts him to know that that’s different for the youth today. Besides that he commends the portrayal of the fact that members of the LGBT-community often have to learn to accept themselves, too. “sometimes it’s hard to learn how to deal with it, to know how you feel and if you want to feel that way. That’s portrayed beautifully.”

“Do you have questions?”

So the storyline can be a comfort to youth who can relate to it. wtFOCK also consciously wants to focus on that aspect. Not only by pushing the subject forward, but also by working together with the online platform WAT WAT. This initiative of the Flemish Government is a bundling of forces of more than 70 organizations to inform the youth. Together, those organizations want to make sure that “all young people are confident and can develop their identity in a positive manner.” On the website, youth can find answers about exam stress, problems at home, but also about sex, sexuality, … you name it.

After every clip of wtFOCK the possibility to visit watwat.be is shown, “in case you have questions”. That initiative pleases Ferre Lamber, a 25-year-old man from Antwerp who remembers how he also went to the internet for questions about his homosexuality when he was younger. “Sometimes it’s just hard to tell someone directly that you’re doubting your sexual orientation. So I can definitely imagine that young people will look online for answers.”

This way, wtFOCK wants to do more than just entertain. “Even though it’s fiction, which automatically entails the aspect of entertainment, that is not the essence of our show”, screenwriter Bram Renders says, incidentally also the writer of youth series W817. “We mostly want to show the youth that they’re not alone. That element is strongly present, and it’s nice that we can convey that message like this.”

The harsh reality

Thus, the series carries an important reality, which can be harsh sometimes. Fabio isn’t sure if he can always appreciate that. “I thought that the homophobia in wtFOCK was pretty cruel sometimes. Somehow that’s a good thing, because real life is like that, too. I’ve already experienced that myself. But in series the focus is generally on all the problems gay characters come into contact with. It would have been nice to see that this wasn’t the case. It has two sides.”

One specific scene that, for the same reason, caused a bomb of critical reactions on Twitter to explode, was when gay bashing was shown shortly, but very explicitly. The choice to portray it, is understandable based on the fact that it’s still a real and current problem today. At the end of December, two LGBT-boys in Ghent became victims of gay bashing. In Het Nieuwsblad they called for other victims to not stay silent, but to report such senseless violence to the police. However, in wtFOCK it’s shown how the main character and his boyfriend decide not to go to the police.

Ferre can understand that decision. “As a victim you want to avoid even more trouble and je need the strength to do something about it. I understand that not everyone would have that. One single right way to deal with gay bashing doesn’t exist.”

Ferre is concerned by, is the way in which the show depicted the incident as a while. The scene depicts how Robbe and his boyfriend get verbally abused and attacked. It end abruptly with the two left injured. Only the next day do we as viewer get to know if everything is okay. “Two years ago, when I hadn’t been with my boyfriend for that long, we were followed, too. After, we cuddled, drank tea, and watched a series, … at moment like that you just want to be together lovingly. You want to know if everything will be okay. But in wtFOCK nothing happened on the night itself and the matter was resolved quickly afterwards.”

Criticism

So more clarity would have been appropriate. The possibilities that you have as a victim after such an incident weren’t emphasized enough according to Ferre. Especially not for a show that has the support of a platform like WAT WAT.

This is clearly not the first time that Bram Renders hears this criticism. He has already given up on reading reactions on Twitter, he jokes. Hesitantly he does admit that they could’ve handled the scene better.

‘How it was protrayed, is more intense than how I imagined it during my rose-colored writing process.’  He says. ‘ That’s no criticism towards the director, because you can never know something like that beforehand. But in hindsight it would have been appropriate to show a follow-up-clip, in which they come home for example. As writeryou always have moments of which you think that it would have been better if you handled them differently; this is one of them.’

Besides that it was a conscious decision to make wtFOCK more heavy than the original SKAM. That decision came after prior conversations with people from the LGBTQ+-community. ‘According to the most people I talked to, was the internal struggle of the main character in the original version too small en was the world around him to rose-colored. So we made that world more raw.’ said Renders.

Ignorance

Then again, benefit of such heavy scenes is the awareness it brings about in viewers outside the LGBTQ+-community. “If you don’t know anyone who’s gay, then you also don’t know how we feel and how we experience certain things,” Fabio emphasizes. “I think that because of wtFOCK people can become more aware. Especially with the amount of young people that watch the series, it can provide more understanding and tolerance.”

Ferre also thinks that larger audiences are show what LGBT-people have to deal with. “Nowadays we don’t know enough about each other’s lives. I noticed that when colleagues or friends asked surprised if certain scenes are really like that, and if I’m really scared to hold hands with my boyfriend in the streets. The different seasons of wtFOCK provide good insights into different problems and how people handle them”, he decides.

Of course, purely scientifically it’s hard to determine such an impact on the audience. But intuitively speaking, that impact is already very logical, researcher Florian Vanlee (UGent) clarifies. “On one side, it can be important for people who do not meet the social standard to see their own experiences portrayed. On the other side, it can make those experiences for those who have less knowledge about it more obvious.”

New insights get subtly imparted throughout the series, but sometimes also in a more explicit manner, like in the part about the Gay Pride. At one point Robbe sneering tells his homosexual roommate that he isn’t the kind of person to dance around at Prides with “plumes in his hole”. That roommate is a more extravagant character that is mostly portrayed as support, with wise advice. He offers Robbe (but mostly the viewer) rebuttal with a short, but emotional history lesson. “Do you know that those people had to fight to be who they are?”, it sounds.

The show is undoubtedly referring to the protests of Stonewall which later grew into the Gay Prides all over the world. Something that is often forgotten, gets emphasized here: that people in the LGBTQ+-community had to travel a long and difficult path to have equal rights today and to be able to completely be themselves.

Amber thinks it’s very important for that history to be highlighted. “That people would rather die than not be able to be who they are, is the basic principle of the Gay Pride. There’s more behind it than semi-naked, dancing people, as some still see it.”

Better representation

Referring to the Gay Pride, Ferre admits to be somewhat disappointed about the type of main character in this season of wtFOCK. According to him it also could’ve been a more pronounced type for once. According to him, LGBTQ+-representation is focused on the so-called ‘mainstream’ LGBT-people too often.

At the start of September the topic got a lot of attention, when radio-dj Wanne Synnave (MNM) made the following statement in the talkshow Vandaag: “The biggest problem is that all the role models you see conform to the cliché image. I’ve never been able to identify myself in that area. I think that there’s a need for more mainstream LGBT-role models, the normal man and woman in the street. So not those flamboyant role models, which are pretty cliché.”

That statement caused a lot of outrage in the LGBTQ+-community. Many people didn’t agree, and had the opinion that there were already plenty of LGBT-people portrayed according to ‘hetero standards’. Florian Vanlee (UGent) confirms that in Flanders very little stereotypical characters are portrayed. “You could almost go so far as to say that the majority of the LGBT-characters are a sort of reverse-stereotype. For example, you will very rarely find very flamboyant gay characters.”

So television program makers represent (admittedly with good intentions) in a very general manner. “But exactly because of that, a large part of the LGBT-community are kept out of the picture”, Vanlee says. So there is need for more varying representation.

Balance

In the specific case of wtFOCK we can argue that the show follows the original format from Norway, and takes satisfaction in the extravagant gay character Milan, the roommate. “It’s hard to find a good balance”, screenwriter Bram Renders says. “In this case I thought that that balance with the ‘out in the open, take it or leave it’-roommate was enough.

In addition, according to Florian Vanlee, it’s not fair to judge individual series on those choices. “That’s not the right way to deal with what we want to see in media and popular culture”, Vanlee thinks. “Nowadays, in Flanders, it’s normal to represent LGBT-characters, for example Kaat in the soap Thuis. That was already an important step. What could be better, isn’t the responsibility of the television-industry, but also the discourse it generates,” he decides.

Finally, representation in Flemish media doesn’t just concern LGBTQ+-characters. It’s also important to look at the portrayal of people with a migration background or with different religions, for example. But wtFOCK doesn’t shy away from that either. In the fourth season, the show takes a new taboo by the horns by making Yasmina, a Muslim character, the main. It remains to be seen how the young, but critical audience will find the new theme.

[alj4890]

And Then I Left You

(Thomas Hunt x OC*Amanda) in a what if to the And Then I Met You

A/N Amanda is back in Cordonia. Thomas decides to do something to make certain his feelings for the duchess are true. The only thing is, his tests cause problems.

@krsnlove​ ​ @my-heart-beats-for-ya​ ​ @aworldoffandoms​ ​ @flyawayboo​ ​  @trappedinfanfiction​ ​ @everythingmarvelsherlockspn​ ​  @sophxwithers​ ​ @kate-mckenzie​ ​ ​ @twinkleallnight​ ​ ​ 

Masterlist

Chapter 4 Missing You

Private Airfield, Cordonia...

"What are you doing here?" Amanda smiled as Drake hugged her.

"I was in the area and thought you might like some company for the ride home." He reached out to take the majority of her bags.

"I would." She followed him over to the town car.

Once they were on the road and the privacy barrier was raised, Drake turned toward her.

"So?"

"So what?"

"Are we going to talk about why you came home earlier than you planned?" He asked.

Amanda lowered her eyes. "You know why."

"I have a few theories."

She let her head fall back against the seat. "I thought it wise to do so."

"Because?" He prodded

"Because I...if I'm going to be a part of this social season, then I might as well get back into the swing of being a noble again"

"Amanda." He folded his arms. "Why did you really come home?"

She dropped her head in her hands. "If I tell you, you must promise me you won't tell anyone."

"I won't."

"I mean it." She looked up at him. "Not even Liam."

"I won't." Drake repeated.

"I knew I needed to leave because I was falling in love with Thomas.” She admitted. 

“You were what now?” He mumbled in disbelief.

“I know.” She rubbed her right temple. “I’m ridiculous.” She closed her eyes. “I was so close to admitting to him everything, including my having to come back here for Liam’s social season.”

Drake sat there in stunned silence.

“He wouldn’t have returned my feelings.” She added. “Thomas is, I mean, I’m nowhere near his type.”

“How do you know?”

“I’ve seen the women he once dated.” Amanda explained. “They’re gorgeous--”

“You’re not ugly.” Drake reminded her.

“Sophisticated--” She continued.

“You’re a literal duchess.” He grumbled. “You have traveled the world, talked to people in positions of power, have been trained in every proper form of--”

“And talented.” She finished.

He merely stared at her with one eyebrow raised.

“What?” Amanda asked.

“The man is making a movie from your novel, your bestselling novel.”

“Drake.” She muttered in a frustrated tone.

“I’ve never seen you like this.” He tilted his head as he watched her hands clasp together, only to go to fiddling with her purse strap. They then clasped together with a death grip.

“Yeah, well.” she gestured toward herself. “I did it again.”

“Did what?”

“Fell for another friend!” She snapped. “A friend that only feels friendship for me.” She folded her arms and slouched in her seat while turning away from him. “I shouldn’t be friends with men.”

“Come on.” He scoffed. “You never fell for me or Liam. And your thing with Maxwell was what, a crush? I mean if you fell for Thomas then you must not have really been in love with Maxwell.” 

“I guess.” She grumbled. Her irritation turned to melancholy. “It’s different this time, Drake.”

“I can tell.” 

“How?’

He rubbed a hand down his face. “For one thing, you were willing to tell him. You never wanted to admit it to Maxwell. Second, you ran away.”

“Is it running away when I simply came home?” She asked.

“You ran away from him.” He corrected. 

“I did.” She rested her head against the window. “I wanted to stay with Thomas. I had actually planned before Leo’s abdication to miss this social season.”

“There you go.” Drake pointed out. “Your willingness to not come home proves that this is different.”

“I’ve never felt this way before.” She admitted. “And nothing can come from it.”

“Why not?”

“Well other than my belief that he doesn’t feel the same, Thomas never dates those he works with.”

“But you’re not working with him now. Right?”

“I still am. When he comes here to film, I will need to show him around, possibly do some rewrites and all.” She grimaced. “And he said he would like to work with me in the future.” Her eyes narrowed in thought. “Perhaps that was his way of telling me there can’t be anything between us.”

****************

Hollywood, California...

It had only been a week since she left, yet Thomas felt Amanda's absence more than he anticipated.

Every part of his home seemed to hold a memory of her. Each time he entered a room, he expected to either hear or see her.

The past few mornings, he had even put her kettle on while preparing her teacup with his coffee.

"It's merely a habit that I will break." He grumbled to himself.

But, he didn't want to break it.

He didn't want to go back to how life was before she came to work with him.

"Hey boss." Holly greeted as she came in. "Addison's running late but is bringing breakfast to make up for it."

He merely grunted while pouring her a cup of coffee.

"Thanks." Holly cradled the mug between her hands.

She glanced over at the tea kettle whistling. Her eyes followed Thomas as he hastily set it to the back of his stove. When he simply stared dejectedly at it, she cleared her throat.

"It's weird isn't it?" She took a sip of her coffee. "Not having Amanda here."

"Yes." He mumbled, taking his coffee over to the bar.

Holly waited an extra beat before prodding a little more. "You know, when you first proposed her living here while working on the screenplay, I honestly expected it to be a disaster."

A ghost of a smile appeared briefly on his lips. "I'm still surprised how easy it was to live with Amanda."

"Especially since she was a total stranger." Holly added.

"I'm glad I did it." He admitted. "It was one of the best decision I've ever made."

Holly pulled a barstool up and sat down across from him. "You two seemed to mesh well, all things considered."

Thomas lifted an eyebrow in silent question.

"I mean, your personalities are different. Well, only to some extent." She corrected. "More that you ended up complimenting each other. Her positive outlook clashing peacefully with your sometimes disillusioned views was interesting to see." Holly smiled at him. "In fact, I think she rubbed off on you."

He snorted softly. "It was impossible to remain in a bad mood around her."

"We noticed."

He narrowed his eyes at her. "I noticed that you and Addison were noticing. Don't think I was ignorant of your not so subtle nudges to try and push Amanda and me together."

Holly rolled her eyes. "Heaven forbid we try and put you with someone whose company you actually enjoyed."

"It could have ended badly." He reminded her.

"It could have." She conceded. "But it also could have been something great." She shrugged when a look of alarm crossed his face. "It's obvious how much she adores you."

Thomas hesitated. "She is a kind person to everyone."

Holly nodded. "True. But think of everywhere we took her. All the people she got to know." A smirk settled on her lips. "And yet, Amanda always gravitated back to you."

"That--that can easily be explained with the fact that our cohabitation made me a person she could be at ease with." He stuttered.

Holly shrugged once more. "She never once flirted or even hinted at wanting any of the guys Addison and I introduced her to."

Thomas felt a raging jealousy flood over him. "Yes, I know all about you trying to set her up with others while trying to put us together."

"Well, you wouldn't act on the mutual attraction you two obviously share." Holly snapped. "So we decided to try and make a romance happen with some of our other friends because we like her and wanted her to stick around."

Addison walked in on the two glaring murderously at one another.

"Happy Monday!" She greeted, settling a box of doughnuts, cinnamon rolls, and danishes between them. "I brought treats to help set our week off on the right foot."

Thomas grumbled a thank you then told them he was going to work in his study.

"What would you like?" Addison asked him. "One of each?"

"I don't care." He poured another cup of coffee, took the plate she had prepared, and told them he didn't want to be disturbed.

Once the door was slammed shut, Addison whispered. "What happened?"

"He misses Amanda and I used it to try and make him see why he does." Holly picked through the offerings Addison had brought in, choosing a cherry danish and a powdered doughnut for herself. "That and I may have lied a little that we tried to get her to fall for other men."

"Holly!" Addison gasped in delight. "You did? No wonder he looked like he wanted to murder you."

"Yeah, well. He is going to be miserable until he makes up his mind." Holly muttered.

Addison peeked down the hallway to his study to make sure they couldn't be overheard. "Do you think he will actually do something now that she's gone?"

"Who knows?" Holly got up to add more sugar to her coffee. "They say absence makes the heart grow fonder. Let's hope it does so quickly for these two."

***************

Thomas spent the day secluded in his study. Though he worked on developing a plan to begin shooting The Earl's Undoing, he took numerous breaks to sit and debate whether or not to call Amanda.

She had called him to let him know she had made it home safely. Then he managed to find reasons to call her each day. Sometimes the call was about where something was he had, "misplaced," and others were wanting her opinion on a possible scene in the movie.

Those barely lasted five minutes before they began to talk about other things.

Thomas had never enjoyed talking on the phone, much less texting. He preferred speaking in person so that he could see the facial expressions and gestures.

Yet, he willingly spent hours on the phone with Amanda and even encouraged her to text him.

Today though, he thought through all that Holly said, which incidentally kept him from calling the one he wanted to hear from most.

Could we have something more that wouldn't end badly?

He leaned back in his chair, rocking back and forth, to contemplate his future.

What if what I feel is simply from being used to having her near? Shouldn't I make certain that my feelings toward her are genuine? Only a fool wouldn't use this time to test what my heart truly wants.

He stilled. Opening the middle left hand drawer of his desk, he dug around until he found a slim black book.

He flipped it open and scanned through the many names that he had once considered dating.

Scratching out the ones who were currently in relationships with other people; he picked up his phone, took a deep breath, and began the process of making plans for the next few weeks. Drinks, dinners, the occasional escort to a charity or awards event...all were eager for some time alone with him.

Thomas grimaced at not feeling that sense of excitement he felt just from merely seeing Amanda's number light up his screen.

"This is good." He said to himself. "This will prove whether or not what is in my heart is truly how I feel towards--"

His phone lit up with a text message.

Unable to fight a grin at seeing some images Amanda had sent him of her home, he called her right away and settled in for what would be his favorite part of the day.

****************

St Orella, Cordonia...

"Hudson said you wanted to see me." Amanda stepped outside and grinned. "Are you grilling steaks?"

Drake smirked proudly. "In thanks for letting me stay here instead of being stuck in the palace."

She sat down in one of the lounge chairs and gazed about the expansive grounds of her home. She had always loved the views of the rocky cliffs with the crashing waves. The salty sea air held a bitter bite to it that wasn't found along Cordonia's southern sandy beaches.

Her happiness being home was bittersweet. She was still surprised how at home she felt at Thomas's. It had happened from the moment she stepped in his home and had seen all he had done to make her stay comfortable. She hoped that when he came here to film that he would feel the same way about hers.

"Still like yours medium?" Drake interrupted her thoughts about Thomas.

"Hmm? Oh. Yes." She blinked. "Thanks."

He cut his eyes to her. "Thinking about Hunt again?"

"No." She tried to lie. "I was thinking about how little work I had to catch up on."

"Right." He snorted. "That always causes a dreamy look on your face."

She stuck her tongue out at him before giggling at his own childish response. "Fine. You caught me. He's hard to forget."

Hudson came outside. "Pardon me, your grace, but Lord and Lady Beaumont are here."

Amanda stood up, to only be nearly knocked down by the hugs the couple swept her in.

"Why didn't you tell us you were home?!" Maxwell asked.

"We would have thrown you a welcome home party!" Nadia added while squeezing her tight.

"I was planning on telling you today." Amanda gasped for air. "I knew neither of you would have been happy with my needing to work before a party." She stepped back and smiled warmly at them.

It was such a relief to see them and not feel heartache or longing of any kind. Drake was right. She really had only had a crush on her best friend. She no longer had to feel guilty for such misguided feelings with Nadia trying to develop a close friendship.

At least this part of her life was as it should be.

"I smell Walker marinade." Maxwell leaned over to see what Drake was brushing it to. "We were planning on stealing you away for a night out. The Cordonian clubs haven't been the same since you left."

"And we can't wait to show you our new home." Nadia added.

"How come I haven't seen it yet?" Drake asked.

"We finally finished decorating it." Maxwell explained. Pulling his Nadia into his embrace, he continued. "My talented beyond measure, artistic wife wanted everything to be perfect before anyone came over."

She gave him an affectionate peck before turning to Amanda and Drake. "How about after dinner you both drive out to our place and then we'll have a fun night dancing?"

"I don't dance." Drake reminded them.

"Fun night drinking top shelf while watching us dance." Maxwell corrected. "Our treat."

Drake cocked an eyebrow at Amanda.

"Sounds like just what I need." She replied with a genuinely happy smile.

If anything, it would hopefully distract her from being tempted to call Thomas again.

*****************

The weeks went by slowly for the two. Thomas began his series of tests to see if perhaps he wasn't just lonely for someone rather than someone specific. While he did that, he continued to call and text Amanda, even doing so on his supposed dates.

Though he didn't tell her anything about them.

Each date ended the same. The women either hinted or came right out and said they wanted to do this again soon and Thomas quickly nixed that idea. The idea of having to spend even more time with these women made him nearly sprint to his car, leaving his dates in shock at his reaction.

He thought he was doing rather well at keeping these dates hidden from those closest to him. The few times he had bumped into someone he knew, he hurriedly explained that it wasn't a date. At least, not in the true sense. The last thing he needed was for Addison and Holly to become angry at his choosing these other women over Amanda to take out.

But then Ryan caught him at dinner with Eva Wooley.

The renowned Scream Queen of Cinema called the actor over.

If only Thomas had not been surreptitiously texting Amanda, he might have been able to come up with a plausible reason for being out with the actress.

"Well, well." Ryan grinned at the two. "Isn't this a cozy booth?"

"Why don't you join us?" Thomas insisted.

The idea of having to sit through another hour or so of Eva saying what he would need to do in order to keep her satisfied in a relationship was grating upon his nerves. He would gladly latch onto Ryan as a lifeline and use him to get out of the restaurant.

"I suppose I could sit down for a minute or so." Ryan quirked an eyebrow at Thomas's silent pleading while Eva puffed up in irritation.

"I only wanted to say, hi, Ryan. Don't let us keep you." Eva grumbled. "We are only trying to have a romantic dinner. Aren't we Tommy?"

Gritting his teeth, he corrected her for the fifth time. "Thomas."

"Romantic dinner, huh?" Ryan didn't bother to hide his surprise. "You two are an item? Since when?"

"Tommy called me...how long ago?" Eva cooed.

"Nearly three weeks ago." Thomas glanced down when his phone vibrated.

Reading Amanda saying that she missed him brought a smile to his lips.

Ryan craned his neck to see what he was doing. Catching Amanda's name on the director's screen, he settled back with a relieved smirk. Now he could have some fun.

"So?" Ryan rubbed his hands together. "What's next for you two crazy lovebirds?"

Thomas's head jerked up. "What?"

"I have a few ideas." Eva leaned forward with a sultry smile.

"Heh." Ryan choked down his laughter. "I can tell when I'm not wanted."

Thomas grabbed his arm and yanked him back down. "Nonsense! Eve was just--"

"Eva!" She snapped.

"...asking about our upcoming movie." Thomas continued, ignoring the lithe beauty's irritated outburst.

"I don’t care about your movie." She huffed. “It sounds boring.” Her eyes narrowed when his attention drifted down to his lap again. "What are you looking at?"

Ryan coughed in his drink. "Yeah, Tommy? What are you looking at?"

"Excuse me, a moment." Thomas slipped out of the booth and headed toward the bar.

Along the way, he called Amanda.

"You know, you don't have to call just because I send a text." Amanda teased. "I promise my feelings won't be hurt."

"I wanted to." Thomas sat down and ordered a scotch. "I'm surprised you're awake at this hour."

"Ah, that would be Nadia's doing. She is determined I be fitted with new ballgowns. She also insists we start the morning fittings bright and early. If she wasn't so sweet, I would be calling her horrible names by now."

"Nadia?" He paused in sipping his drink. "So things between you and Maxwell..."

"There's nothing there." Amanda explained. "No lingering longing or wishful thinking. Nothing but friendship."

He didn't realize how relieved he would feel, knowing she truly didn't have feelings for anyone back home.

"Good. I--" he hesitated, "I didn't want you to suffer with a lost love."

Her chuckle brought a smile to his lips.

"That is very sweet of you." She settled back against her bed pillows. "It sounds busy wherever you are. Big night on the town?"

"Just dinner out." He corrected. "Dining at home hasn't been the same since you left."

"I've had Drake here since I came home." She explained. "He didn't want to be part of the rush of preparing for the social season at the palace." A slight blush stained her cheeks. "Even with Drake here, offering to cook and all...I miss our meals together." A slightly nervous laugh escaped her. "He never wants to talk movies or books with me."

"That is a shame." Thomas glanced up and saw his furious date storming over. "Amanda, let me call you back."

"Of course--"

He quickly ended the call before she finished speaking.

"What in the hell are you doing over here?!" Eva hissed.

Thomas held up his glass and shook it. "I needed a drink."

"Our waitress would have brought it to our table." She leaned closer to whisper. "You're embarrassing me in front of everyone here!" She gestured toward the people looking at them. "Do you know that I am trending on Twitter with the #barbeatsEva?!"

"I don't understand a word you said in that last sentence." He shrugged. "I needed to make a phone call. But now that you mention it, I should leave." He paid for his drink then went back to their table.

"You are not leaving!" Eva sniped, hot on his heels. "You are going to sit down, order dessert and act like you are falling in love with me! I will not allow my fans to believe you prefer sitting alone at a bar to my company!"

He laid down a few hundred dollar bills for their server, then turned to face his date.

Thomas wondered what possessed him a year ago to even consider getting to know such a shallow creature. All she had done was talk about herself from the moment they met up this evening. She didn't care what he liked, nor was remotely interested in anything about himself.

"I suppose this explains why I decided to step behind the camera." He replied. "I'll never be a good enough actor to convince anyone here that I even like you."

Eva stood there with her jaw dropped before swiping up her things and hurrying after him.

********************

The next morning, he came downstairs to find Holly and Addison completely livid.

"Is something wrong?" He asked, already feeling a sense of trepidation at their silence.

Addison tossed one magazine after another down on the kitchen counter.

He blanched at the photos of him with different women splashed on the covers.

Holly held up her iPad and hit play.

"In Entertainment News, Thomas Hunt has abandoned his seclusion with a bang! Ever since Amanda Bridgerton completed the screen play of The Earl's Undoing, the reclusive director has been making up for lost time. He has been seen on romantic nights out with several actresses and personalities. Could one of these be his next personal leading lady? Sources close to--"

"How could you?!" Addison cried out. "Amanda is in love with you! She admitted it the night we took her out and she drank too much. And then you just go out with people like Eva, Gina, Kerri, and too many that I can’t stand! And Simone? Really, Thomas? Of all the people in Hollywood, you chose them?!"

He stilled. "Amanda said she was in love with me?"

"You could have been with Amanda all this time." Holly shook her head, not bothering to hide how disappointed she was. "But you chose these superficial women instead." She turned her back on him. "I hope they were worth it. Now Amanda will probably find some noble or diplomat and quickly settle for him to keep from letting us know her heart is broken."

He searched his pocket for his phone. "I'll explain to her why I did this."

"What possessed you to go out with them?" Holly asked.

"Because I--" he frowned when his call went to voicemail. "I wanted to make certain my feelings for Amanda were strictly for her and not just because I was lonely." He grimaced when his call went unanswered again. "I didn't want to start something with Amanda unless I knew I was completely committed to her."

"Oh." Addison's glare slowly dissolved. "Couldn't you have figured it out a different way?"

He briefly closed his eyes, refusing to snap at her. He sent a few texts pleading that Amanda call him.

Ryan's appearance in his home caused the three to jump in surprise.

The actor cocked an eyebrow in question. "What? Didn't you tell me to come over first thing to try on my costumes?"

"I completely forgot!" Addison sent her own text to Amanda.

Holly shushed Ryan while she too begged Amanda to pick up her phone.

"What's wrong?" Ryan noticed the magazine's. "Oh."

"She's not answering anything." Thomas dropped his phone on the counter and lowered his head.

"I'll try her home!" Addison stepped away from them and called St Orella. "Mr. Hudson. Hi! It's Addison. I was wondering if I could speak to Amanda."

Ryan shook his head. "She's even ignoring my text."

Thomas ran his hands down his face. "Perhaps she is busy and hasn't had a chance to see these yet."

"Oh." Addison's shoulders slumped with Hudson's explanation. "I understand. I'll try again later. Thank you." She set her phone down and sank into a chair. "She's home but unable to come to the phone."

The group of friends remained silent, each trying to think of a way to fix this.

For the first time in his life, Thomas was at a complete loss.

[tanadrin]

Notes on some Rare Economic Systems (That Do Not Work)

1.

A little more than two hundred years ago, the state of Kezaria was rapidly changing, but straining against a patchwork of antiquated laws supported by a corrupt government. The Kezarian parliament was filled with representatives of rotten boroughs, its aristocracy refused to endorse any kind of political reform, and its population was moving from the countryside to the cities as enclosures on the one hand and the growth of the urban economy on the other conspired to convert the country from an agrarian economy to an industrial one. Eventually, protests broke out which threatened to become a real revolution. Terrified of the consequences of such a revolution, the State Council of Kezaria forced through a series of reforms that included, among its provisions, a regular cash disbursement for the relief of the poor. As all this happened before Speenhamland, a prejudice against such a program had not yet been established in Kezaria, and the State Council was desperate for anything that would keep the government from being overthrown.

Incidentally, it worked, and though initially considered a minor provision, direct poverty relief became a cornerstone of Kezarian government. As the country moved further in a socialist direction–now through gradual reform aided by democracy, rather than revolution or the threat of revolution–this provision was expanded, and eventually enshrined in the Kezarian constitution. But some thinkers still considered the economic system fundamentally unjust; redistribution, they said, was not enough. It was still possible that wealth should be unequally amassed, that the resources of each citizen should be too different in magnitude, and therefore some would have unelected power over their fellows; and a state that was a democracy worthy of the name should make all its citizens equal in matters of money as well as law. And so in due course, all income *outside of* the Kezarian basic income was banned.

This is the Kezarian system as it stands today: each month, an account in every citizen’s name is reset to 2,000 Kezarian lions–although the lion no longer functions as a true currency, the name is retained for the sake of historical continuity. The lion may be spent, but not accumulated: an excess of lions, as well as a dearth, is wiped out at the end of each calendar month. As accounts may be held only by natural persons, no business has a single swan (the Kezarian cent) to its name, except what its managers and executives might pool of their common monthly resources. Transaction taxes are very high–as much as 20 or 30 percent of any purchase–in order to keep the lion in circulation, but nobody much minds, as they are not really losing any money in the long run.

The inconvertibility of the lion means that, naturally, tourism is nearly nonexistent in Kezaria, and all imports must be purchased by the state and imported using its foreign currency reserves. But the Kezarians seem content with their system, for they can look around at their neighbors and friends and politicians–all the people who *really* matter, after all–and be confident that no one is doing much better, or much worse, than them.

2.

Miskando is perhaps unique in the world for being a modern, industrialized, and prosperous gift economy.

Miskando has few laws, not because its people are of an especially libertarian bent, but because informal rules in Miskandese culture to an unusual degree. Whereas the British have no need of a written constitution, because convention governs their parliament so strictly, the Miskandese have little need of written laws, because contravening the rules of polite society is unthinkable. Such behavior puts one in the same category as a child, imbecile, or foreigner; and if you truly do not know how to behave in a given situation, well, Miskandese bookshops do a brisk trade in manuals of etiquette, and the most popular section of the newspapers is invariably the one given over entirely to advice columns.

The commercial storefront in Miskando is in fact an evolution of the private home; as such, there isn’t a strict distinction between “house” and “shop,” and one observes the niceties of calling on a friend or acquaintance when one enters a shop, even if the proprietor is totally unknown to them. If you need something–a new hat, perhaps, or a week’s worth of groceries–the custom is that you wander into a shop and look about for a little while. The shopkeeper or the clerk will ask you if they can help; you must refuse at least once. When they insist (as they invariably will), you will begrudingly admit that there are one or two things you might want, and after a little back-and-forth and some polite chit-chat about the weather, you will gather the items on your list, enquire after your interlocutor’s health and the health of their children, and then depart.

The provision of services, even complex ongoing services, is furnished in much the same way. A bilateral relationship must be carefully cultivated between members of two different firms; as a rule, favors are exchanged, rather than contracts being made, and are never quite repaid fully: to do so would be to formally disobligate someone, and thus to end your relationship with them. This is seen as a terrible snub when it occurs between individuals, and when it occurs between businesses is usually due to one party incurring the other’s greatest displeasure

.Outsiders attempting to do business in Miskando have generally found the process bewildering, even those from politeness-heavy societies. The Miskandese, for their part, have adapted fairly well to commerce with other nations; after all, if they have need of hard currency, they usually have a friend who owes them a favor that they can ask.

3.

In Gharat, all money is in the form of immense bronze pillars.

Long ago, it is said, the people of Gharat exchanged certain standardized, useful goods, like knives or wool cloth, whose value was widely agreed upon. These eventually gave way to the ancient Gharat knife-currency, a chunk of bronze of a fixed weight whose resemblance to the older medium of exchange was only passing. The real value was in the metal itself; and because of its weight, large amounts of these heavy pieces were often bound together to prevent theft.

One day, a thoughtful merchant had the bright idea of simply melting all his bronze into one enormous mass, which he could simply leave outside his house–after all, it was impossible to steal. Many others began to follow suit, and some began to craft the displays of their wealth into more elaborate shapes, and eventually, the tradition of the bronze pillar currency was enshrined. It didn’t matter that it couldn’t be transported; after all, the metal wasn’t *used* for anything anymore–the Gharati had by this time moved on to iron tools. And (so the Gharati held) assiduous recordkeeping meant that it was always widely known who owned what pillar, even if the pillar in question happened to be three provinces over.

The centralization of the Gharati nation in the 18th and 19th century and the codification of Gharati customary law necessitated the establishment of a centralized record of ownership of the pillars; and it was eventually discovered, to the horror of the nation’s leaders, that the records of ownership were, in fact, a contradictory mess. They *could*, perhaps, be sorted out, and the spurious claims distinguished from the genuine ones, but to do so would be to devastate the wealth of the nation: multiple ownership of the same pillars more than quintupled the country’s GDP, with some particularly contested pillars being owned by as many as fifty people. Perhaps they could keep the situation a secret; but if word ever got out, they feared, there would be chaos and riots as a result.

The solution came from Gharati religious law, which had always been rather more concerned with metaphysical matters over practical ones. One object, the scriptures said, might really be two, depending on how you look at it; so the Gharati lawmakers simply proclaimed all claims of ownership that had existed on a certain date, a few years previous, to be valid; and any *appearance* that one pillar might be owned by more than one person was, in fact, an illusion of the material world. Really, these were multiple pillars that happened to be superimposed on one another. They might *literally* be made of the same particles of metal, but they were *conceptually* distinct. There was some grumbling when this was announced–but no one wanted to risk losing the lion’s share of their net worth overnight, so it was quickly accepted.

Yet despite proposals, the Gharati have never made the shift entirely to a pillar-backed paper currency, or to a fiat currency entirely. After all, they say, money ought to be something *real.* A bronze pillar has mass and heft; and thus, it is possible to imagine, it had real value. To abolish the system entirely would simply turn the idea of money into a farce.

4.

Clasimarion is, its inhabitants say, the most perfect place of liberty to have ever existed–even if they are all slaves.

The island of Usvasaari was settled by Tiravec peoples from the south, who founded the city; Clasimarion was a prosperous trade republic in its middle years, but declined as the mercantile empires around it grew, and its once-vaunted navy was unable to secure its trading rights by force. When the Third Bull Government was overthrown, a new order was proclaimed. The constitution consisted of a single line: “The forceful interference with an individual or their property may be met with force.” The state was abolished; henceforth the Clasmain common law of property was supreme.

Despite the cynicism of foreign observes, Clasimarion did *not* immediately collapse into anarchy. No warlord rose to power, no neighboring state invaded, and, for a little while, life continued much as it had before, without the burden of taxes or unnecessary bureaucracy. The former merchant-lords of the city managed their holdings without outside interference now, and any petty squabbles that might result in violence between their private mercenary corps did not interfere with life in the rest of the city.

This state lasted about thirty years. One day, a certain Orsil San, the last of an old Clasmain family now living abroad, discovered that according to ancient Clasmain law, his quintuple-great-grandmother had at one time owned all of the northern peninsula of Usvasaari, the very land on which Clasimarion was built. What had been thought freehold title, converted to allodial title at the time of the revolution, was in fact only on an indefinite lease to the government; and, the deed said, should the institutions of that government be dissolved, “all land, chattels, movable and immovable goods, and any other right of property within that domain, not held by persons outside it, shall revert to the San family."

This meant that all Clasimarion was the property of one man. And worse: because Clasmain common law had never abolished the condition of slavery (though it had been centuries since it had been practiced), and that slaves could not own property, all of the *inhabitants* of Clasimarion were his property as well, to dispose of, with absolute rights, as he wished.

And Orsil San did wish. He sold the deed to an overseas company, a fortune-cookie company called Voystaykan & Son, and retired to a dissolute life that ended when he fell off his yacht and drowned. Voystaykan sent a delegation to Clasimarion, contracts in hand, and all of the most eminent jurists of the city agreed with doleful solemnity: Orsil San had the right, and the contracts were valid. To rebel, to attempt to rescind the contract, to appoint a parliament or king to change the law, would be an intolerable violation of the constitution, an affront to the most deeply held principles of liberty. The entire city submitted without a fight, and became the property of the newly-rebranded Voystaykan Company.

The Company is not cruel. It knows that morale is important to get the most out of its property. The people labor by day, singing their work-songs and shanties, and they retire in the evening to adequate meals within their barracks. They have their games and celebrations. Life in Clasimarion is well-ordered, and peaceful. But the will of the city’s managers is an iron law. The CEO of the Company, like a distant god. The company’s property may supplicate before it; they may beg and plead and weep, but the law of that country is clear: they are objects of another’s rights, not agents of their own. They may hope, and they may dream; but their labor does not cease, and their fate is not their own to determine. And they may gaze out over the cold waters that surround Usvasaari, but they cannot leave. For what would they be then, but thieves stealing themselves away? To do so would mean that they despise that most important right of all, the right to property. It would mean that they hate justice and law and liberty above all. And whatever else it may be, Clasimarion is free.