#in defence of pretension

[chasingchaos12]

"do you not get bored? does the ugliness of stupidity not scare you?"

Ooft, what a hard hitter.

If you are at all interested in conscious rather than passive consumption (working towards actively engaging with the media you consume, and becoming a part of the conversation even just privately to better internalise and actually learn the things we consume), the value of art in society, it's strength and role in our development as individuals, and a bit about world-wide falling literacy rates and the rising stigma attached to intellectualism, oh and let's not forget some concerns about the unchecked rise of AI, I have a read that you might find interesting:

It's got some banging quotes such as:

"i am a bundle of all the work i have ever come into contact with. i think i can trace parts of my personality to all the anthony bourdain documentaries my grandmother used to watch. my sense of humor is a mix of my mother’s dryness and the work of rick riordan. if we all see the same five clips on tiktok, the same three luca guadagnino films, how will we ever be individual?"

"there are people trying very hard to make us feel shame for wanting to contextualize our existence. men eager and waiting behind their keyboards to yell at well-read women who make them feel small. to them i say:

you will not shame us for seeing value in the practice of empathizing with people through this work.

there is so much to hate in this world. so much to mourn. it is a miracle that my heart still has the capacity to love; you will not strip me of what little joy i have sequestered for myself for the sake of my sanity. you cannot have our art.

pick up a book. it just might free you from all that misery you feel."

Discovered this article from a super interesting and eye opening yt video that you should also check out if you're interested in this subject:

I will definitely be attempting this digital garden thing: I've already downloaded the software she recommended (Obsidian), now's just the doing.

Wish me luck! Hope this interests and/or helps someone.

[psychotrenny]

The thing with 9/11 is that no one cares that much about the death and destruction itself. Buildings fall down and people die all the time, including in the US. Like at the height of the COVID-19 pandemic you had entire 9/11s worth of USamericans dying on a regular basis. If all that damage was caused by an earthquake or faulty building practices or whatever, there wouldn't have been nearly as much fuss about it. It's not as if the insane response from US population was a matter of "two building fall down"

The reason why 9/11 was so upsetting to the US population was their widespread feelings of Imperialist Chauvinism and the subsequent outrage at seeing it so openly and violently defied. The US was at the height of its Imperialist power at the turn of the millennium, a hegemonic superpower that was dominant in some way over more or less the entire world. Whether they'd phrase it in such a way or not, most people in the US were very well aware of this; as far as they were concerned the US was truly the greatest country on the Earth. For some this was a point of pride, for others it was a simple fact of the world. This made them feel secure; bombings and mass killings might happen in those "shithole nations" of the earth but it couldn't happen over there. The US military could wipe entire cities off the map and like maybe that was good, maybe that was unfortunate and maybe it meant nothing at all. Either way that was normal; the violence flowed from the Core to the Periphery.

Until one day it didn't. One day a group of people from that Periphery, from some shithole group of nations, struck back. Now the sorts of destruction they'd seen on TV were happening right outside their window; the US got the smallest taste of the sort of brutality they had long inflicted on the rest of the world. And they did not like that taste at all. The US people as a whole went mad with grief and rage, not at the death of any people but the death of their sense of unquestionable safety and superiority. And the only hope of getting that feeling back was to inflict a revenge so terrible that no one would dare resist or retaliate again.

If bloodshed was how they'd built their empire, only more bloodshed could keep it safe. And this time they didn't even have to feel bad about it. It's not as if the US empire had ever given the world any peace, but now they had the perfect pretense to escalate it to levels not seen in decades. If they talked about this isolated and comparatively limited attack as though it was some great invasion, the US government and its supporters could take all the moral high ground of "self defence" even as they slaughtered impoverished peoples on the other side of the world. So it made sense to treat the 11 September attacks as though they were the greatest tragedy of all time. 9/11 didn't break the US psyche, it just made them express it in a more shameless way. It's not as though genocidal Imperialist violence was anything new to the USA. Afghans were just the new Apaches; the "Middle East" a new "Wild West"

[sarshles-cheescake-li]

Link Click, internet slang, and Chinese culture

On the Chinese internet, there's a nickname for Link Click called Shiguang Daidaoren, meaning "the blade-bringers of time" instead of "the managers of time," the original title. Calling something "blade" is Chinese internet slang for something being angsty; whether it be derivative content or the originals themselves. Another meme is that Link Click isn't zhiyu (治愈，healing), which it is tagged as on Bilibili, but zhiyu (致郁，causing depression).

Link Click, especially its first season, is a deeply emotional and sentimental show. And it's a shame that so much of it gets not so much lost in literal, linguistic translation as much as it does in cultural, contextual translation. Many people can understand Emma's pain of being away from her parents in a new city, working a difficult job. But watching the scrolling comments on Bilibili, you get the cultural context of it -- the massive migration patterns within China from rural to urban, the children growing up and having to shed their local fangyan (方言) or, less formally, tuhua (土话)("speech of the locations" and "old-fashioned words," respectively) in exchange for Beijing Mandarin. This massive nation, nearly twice the population of Europe and only about 6% smaller in terms of area, is so diverse as to have created (what is close to) an immigrant experience for its citizens entirely within its borders. You visit your parents on Chunjie (春节）, lunar/Chinese new year, on packed trains during the largest singular human migration event on Earth, annually. And when you get home, you are faced with something different from the cities you now live in -- everything from the buildings to the furniture to the clothes they wear. I hadn't realized how deeply I missed the gaudy, garish mianao (棉袄，coats) and mianbei (棉被，cotton blankets) until I saw familiar shades of too-bright burgundy in the hands of Emma's parents. The concept of this original-home, laojia (老家, old-home) is so strongly baked into our lives that every time I meet another Chinese person, I cannot but help but ask them 你老家哪儿啊? Where is your original-home? And even though I know nothing about Chinese geography, every time I hear the answer, a little piece slots into place nonetheless.

In slang, if something made you cry or otherwise feel an emotion you weren't expecting to feel, you refer to it as pofang (破防，breaking defences). And maybe it says something that an expression of human emotion is viewed as a failure in some defences, but that's introspection for another time. Watching on Bilibili, with its hundreds of comments scrolling by "My defences have been breached" and sobbing onomatopoeia, people in the comments saying that they miss their mothers and fathers -- I, too, miss my family. When Cheng Xiaoshi, in Chen Xiao's body, tried to speak his host body's local variation and came up with butchered dongbeihua (东北话, words of the east-north), I nearly fell out of my chair. It was the sound of home, of my grandmother telling us to hush around noon because our neighbours were napping and my grandfather showing me how to play spider solitaire.

Cheng Xiaoshi's breakdown in episode 5 hits hard for its vulnerability. "I'm scared of the dark" has the same literal meaning as "我怕黑," sure, but there is something devastatingly childlike in that three-syllable declaration of fear. Where English so often derives meaning from complexity, from winding metaphors and beautiful prose, Chinese can derive breathtaking meaning from less breath than it takes to say the word analogy. 我怕黑 is stripped of any grown-up pretenses of control or dignity. It is the barest this statement can be: I. Scared. Darkness.

And what he says following, too. 我害怕一个人. Longer yet no less potent. Alone, or lonely, has many translations in Chinese. 孤独. 寂寞. 孤单. 单独. Many more synonyms for all the different ways you can be lonely. But 一个人 is, once again, an almost child-like way of saying it. Before you have the vocabulary to express these complex emotions, 一个人 is a perfectly working expression. Translating it character-by-character, it means one singular person. It is something you say when you've been left behind. When you've been made to face everything by yourself. When the world is so, so, big, and you are just one singular person, with no companions to stand with you.

And, ah, Li Tianxi's Chinese nickname, 小希. It is the last character of her full name, with a "little" shoved right in front. It is an affectionate way to call someone younger than you. It is different from Xixi, its English rendition, because a repetition of the last character is a more generalized, affectionate nickname, whereas diminutives are almost always reserved for someone younger than you, when used in real life. The diminutive says don't be scared. I'm here now. I'll handle it.

There are endless details in Link Click that make everything about it seem a little bit more like home. The word 面馆 which means something a little, subtly different than "restaurant" or "noodles shop," a difference lost without the context of the phrase 下馆子 and the way adults say it with the gladness of once-children who only ate meat on new years. The "honorifics" as English calls them, to me more of just -- ingrained parts of someone's name. Within the snap of Mandarin syllables there is meaning and memory in every character. Jie, mei, di, ge, lao, da, xiao -- they are more than their literal meanings. They are a relationship, a promise.

Perhaps I am overthinking this, awkwardly Chinese as I am: too localized to be considered first-generation, too stubbornly attached to relate to second-generation. Maybe these linguistic subtleties only exist and matter in my mind, a writer of both languages (though I must say, my Chinese prose leaves… much to be desired) with a knack for pedantics. Regardless, I hope other Chinese fans of this show share this feeling. And surely, other people will, too. All the rural children who left home to pursue higher education and opportunities in faraway cities; the raised-in-poverty who spent their childhoods dreaming of buying their family new coats; the speakers of languages long since abandoned by their childhood friends. What a delight it is to see yourself in stories, neither exception nor abnormality but a norm. What a joy it is to be one of one point four billion.

[thereoncewasagirlnamedjane]

SOME TYPE OF SKIN (1).

PAIRING — billy russo x reporter f!reader

CONTENTS — ficlet; fluff; tiny bit of angst if you squint really, really hard; a dash of pining; references to some canon-typical violence; some very mild innuendo.

SUMMARY — after a harrowing experience, billy surprisingly takes the matter of your personal safety into his very own hands.

WORD COUNT — 1.6k

NOTES — so I decided to write something short and fun for @elixirfromthestars’s cinema writing challenge and honestly, i’m not 100% satisfied with this (when am i ever tho?) but also trying not to overthink this too much. please excuse me while I continue to scream into the void about this stupidly beautiful man. I apologize in advance for the person I have been and am going to be for the next few weeks; ben barnes has such a firm grip on my fucking throat lmao 🤭

✩ masterlist ✩ library blog

When he asked you to meet him here at Anvil headquarters so you could finally interview him for that story in the Bulletin, this isn’t exactly what you were expecting. 

Instead of being seated in his second floor office overlooking the main part of the warehouse, you’re standing in the basement dressed in your crisp white blouse, hastily pressed pencil skirt, and low heels. You toy with the press pass hanging around your neck, unsure what to do with your hands. 

Your interview subject, however, seems quite relaxed save for the slight wrinkle between his dark brows as he very deliberately lays out several objects on a table in the middle of the room. He’s switched out his usual sharp business attire for a green pullover that looks soft to the touch, dark cargo pants, and a pair of combat boots. 

It takes you a few seconds to find your voice, because does he have to recline against the damn thing like that? He looks tall and lean, but damn it when he’s like this, showing off the corded muscles in his arms and shoulders, you cannot doubt that he’s an ex-Marine. 

“Russo?” 

“Hm?” He hums distractedly. 

“Are those knives?” 

Well, that gets his attention. He lifts his head and finally makes direct eye contact, and a shiver shoots down your spine. 

“Yeah, they are,” he confirms casually, as if you’ve just asked him if the sky is blue. He leans his hands on the table, shamelessly giving you a slow and careful once over before he frowns a little. “You’re gonna have to change.” 

“I feel compelled to tell you Karen knows I’m here,” you say quickly, raising an inquisitive eyebrow when he just chuckles like you’ve said something adorably funny. “Also, I thought we were doing an interview?” 

Billy Russo stares expectantly at you for a few seconds, lips slowly turning upward into a mysterious smile that you know has captured hearts all over the city. 

But you won’t fall for that, will you? 

Nope. Not in the slightest. 

“Nah, not yet anyway. Sorry, darlin’.” 

Ignore that! You scream mentally, but your brain does not cooperate. “Then what am I doing here, Lieutenant?” 

Whoops. His head snaps up again, his already sunless eyes getting darker by the second. Without breaking the intense eye contact, he just gestures around the room as though it’s oh so obvious. 

“Self-defence training.” 

“And why would I need—ugh, I don’t have time for this, Billy.” You heave a sigh, dropping all pretenses now, pinching the bridge of your nose in frustration. 

You’ve always known that Billy marches to the beat of his own drum, ever since the two of you met when Karen introduced you a few months ago while you were researching for a story about army veterans—a friend of a friend’s, she’d said, but never elaborated—but this seems excessive. 

“You wouldn’t have come if I were honest,” he says, his smile falling away in an instant, the glint of amusement in his eyes disappearing like smoke in the wind. “I don’t need to remind you of the… unpleasantness that happened last week.” 

“And yet here we are,” you scoff, crossing your arms over your chest. “I’m fine.” 

“You were attacked,” Billy corrects, walking around the table to perch himself on the edge closest to you. You roll your eyes; as if you’ve forgotten. Getting ambushed in front of your apartment by two masked assailants isn’t exactly an easy thing to forget. 

“Everything worked out, didn’t it?” You uncross your arms and saunter over to the table, ignoring the heavy weight of his gaze on you. And it really had! 

Just as one of your would-be kidnappers, whatever it was they wanted, hit you in the face in retaliation for you kicking him in the shins and biting the other on the arm, your neighbour had come out of the apartment building just in time and began screaming bloody murder. They had no choice but to drop you and run, leaving you dishevelled and bruised, but otherwise fine, on the sidewalk. 

“They could come back,” Billy points out, since they obviously didn’t get what they’d come for, the same thing the police had said when they arrived just minutes later. You didn’t think much of it, though. Karen had had her fair share of run-ins with such undesirables, and she assured that this just meant you were pushing precisely the right buttons as a reporter. 

Even so, she still urged you to call Billy for protection.

You wonder if he gets all of his clients to undergo this self-defence training, or if he always personally offers to instruct them.

“Can’t guarantee it won’t happen again,” Billy doesn’t seem to want to take no for an answer. The two of you stare for a moment, engaging in a silent battle of wits that you, of course, end up losing when you’re the first to look away. He nods at the various knives and daggers strewn across the table. “C’mon, pick one and we’ll start small.” 

“Small?” You squeak as you eye the particularly ornate handle on one of the knives that honestly looks more like a short sword. 

“Aw, don’t be scared,” Billy chuckles and pats you on the shoulder, watching with those hawkish eyes of his as you consider your options. “This is a safe space.” 

Is it though? You wonder as you pick up a small dagger closest to you. “Wouldn’t guns make more sense since I’m not exactly trained in hand to hand combat?” 

“I am training you. And you’re not ready for guns yet,” Billy grins when you unsheathe the dagger, eyes widening just a fraction at the way the blade glints in the light. “‘Sides, picturin’ you with a knife is way hotter. You gonna wear a thigh holster?” 

You flick the tip of the blade in his direction, “Watch it, Russo. I’m armed.” 

But he just laughs, a sound that comes with a dangerous surge of pride in your chest, “That’s not how you hold a dagger.” 

“Oh, shut up,” you bristle, cheeks warming and trying not to watch, enraptured, as he stands up to his full height, his boots thumping heavily on the concrete. 

“Careful,” he warns, but he sounds more amused than offended as he closes the distance between you in just a few small strides. “You’d better play nice if you still want that interview.” 

But there’s nothing professional about the way he steps behind you, the way his arms pull you back against his chest, or the way his hand lands on yours to adjust your grip on the dagger’s handle. 

“Not all of us can be badass ex-Marines, can we?” It takes everything you have not to stammer, not to gulp nervously when you feel the calloused ridge of his trigger finger caressing the same spot on your own hand. 

“Yeah, well, I believe in you,” you can hear the smirk in his voice as his free hand comes down to rest on your hip, warm and heavy as it guides you slowly into a proper stance. “Bend your knees a little.” 

“Pretty sure I hired you so I wouldn’t have to take matters into my own hands like this,” you huff in annoyance, grumbling but following his instructions anyway, feeling a bit silly doing this in your work clothes. He never did give you a chance to change. 

“Please, you couldn’t afford me,” Billy murmurs so low against your ear that it sends a shiver down the side of your neck, all the way to a certain part of your anatomy you refuse to acknowledge at the moment, his beard slightly rough against your cheek. Is he doing this on purpose? “Also, did you technically hire me if I’m doing this pro bono?”

“Yeah, and on that note,” you grow bold when he squeezes your hip in encouragement, leaning back against him with your arm extended, your hands joined together, the tip of the dagger’s blade angled upward at an imaginary assailant. “Why are you? The Billy Russo I know never works for free.” 

You see, you know precisely the kind of man Billy is. He would never invest this kind of time and energy into something like this, not unless he had something to gain from it—

Even without looking back, you feel his dark obsidian gaze on the still healing bruise that’s formed on the side of your face. His fingers tighten around yours, there’s a slight hitch in his breath you can feel with his chest pressed to your back, and the hand on your hip slides forward and around to your other side in an almost embrace. Protective, possessive, and maybe even a little petrified.

—or unless he had some type of skin in the game. 

And suddenly, despite the way you’re dressed and your hilarious lack of experience, you start to feel pretty invincible. You allow yourself a proud grin, squaring your shoulders so you stand a little taller in his arms.

They fall instantly, however, when Billy steps away and moves to stand directly in front of you. You feel immensely colder at the loss of proximity. 

“Alright, let’s see what you got,” he’s smirking again, all that vulnerability and whatever warmth you sensed in his body language once again hidden away behind a layer of arrogance and swagger. He beckons you with a come here gesture of his hand. 

“What?” You blink. 

“I’ve just broken into your apartment,” he states matter-of factly, “what do you do?” He coaxes you again with another wave.

“But wait!” You almost shriek, your bout of confidence once again faltering. “You didn’t even teach me anything yet!” 

“I need to see where you’re at first before I can teach you, darlin’,” he’s still smirking, half condescending and half amused, and your hands twitch to fling the knife at his stupid head.

“I’m at nowhere! I’ve got nothing! And you don’t even have a weapon, I could slice your damn face off!” Or worse, scar it. 

Billy laughs again, his eyes crinkling warmly at the corners. “Oh, sweetheart, you can certainly try.” 

to be continued…

PART 2 »

© 2025 by thereoncewasagirlnamedjane. do not repost, translate, or copy to third party sites. no part of this work may be fed into any AI software or websites. minors are asked not to interact with my blog; you are responsible for your own media consumption. blank/ageless blogs will be blocked.

[daisymbin]

[21:47] - choi seungcheol

a/n: yes I just posted a mingyu fic like an hour or so ago but I'm having svt brainrot today so I might post a few more today idk 🤷‍♀️

check out my masterlist! // cheol's m.list

"so...." seungcheol starts off as his eyes take in the sight of you. he sees your lips in a tiny pout. your eyebrows are slightly furrowed. your eyes are wandering around the living room, looking and glancing over everywhere and everything, except for him & his eyes. he watches as your fingers fidget with each other, no doubt to calm your nerves and probably to help you think.

"what are you so cocky about? that you've won this stupid game and I've lost?" you bit back sulkily. truthfully, you knew you were being a little too harsh considering the fact that seungcheol hasn't made any sarcastic remarks or any jokes & yet, you couldn't help it. it was a defence mechanism you unknowingly put out because as much as you dont want to admit it, seungcheol was right from the start, he's won this game and you've lost.

the back of his hand rests lightly against the soft of your face before turning his hand to let your cheek rest in his palm as he swipes his thumb across them. "told you I'd make you fall in love with me within 2 months." he said softly as he leaned in slightly. your foreheads now touching and you feel his hot breath on you. "it's not fair, you were being so nice and sweet. who could ever resist you? I was doomed from the start." you answer back; softer this time, admitting defeat.

"life isn't fair, princess, besides, isn't this the best bet you've ever lost?" he asked as he cocks an eyebrow at you. you nod at him lightly, "I guess after all those dates, it's only inevitable. aren't you relieved that all the money & time you invested in me gave you the outcome you wanted?" you teased back; holding eye contact. "you know I'd invest twice, hell, even a hundred times all my money and time on you, my love." his free hand came up to stroke your hair soothingly. you giggled at him as you said "to be honest, I have a confession to make."

"what is it, princess?"

"hmm...I may or may not have already been in love with you before we started this whole....bet.." you admitted as you teasingly bat your eyelashes at him, trying to gauge his reaction. you knew he would never be mad or upset at you over this but still, your confession hangs in the air.

"oh really? is that so?" he chuckled. you decided to tease him more seeing that he was taking it well, "why? do you regret wasting all your time and money on me and all those dates?" you hit his shoulder lightly; a faux pretense of being angry. seungcheol only moved his hands to hold onto your wrists tightly, "don't you know that besides time and money, I've also invested all my love on you? all my time, money & love could never be a waste on you. you deserve every bit of it." only then, does seungcheol finally bring your lips together.

[bennetsbonnet]

I always think that it is at once interesting and baffling (plus perhaps a little infuriating) whenever Mr Darcy's character is reduced to 'socially anxious, awkward bean,' and his numerous character flaws are ignored, because we clearly have a canonical example of his reaction when his shortcomings are ignored by others.

In Chapter 11, when Darcy makes the cheeky comment about admiring their figures from his spot by the fire, Caroline, in response, asks how he should be punished, to which Elizabeth replies:

'Tease him—laugh at him. Intimate as you are, you must know how it is to be done.'

Obviously the little dig that Elizabeth makes at Caroline regarding her not being as close to Mr Darcy as she might believe is entirely lost on Caroline, as she immediately launches into a passionate defence of Darcy:

'But upon my honour, I do not. I do assure you that my intimacy has not yet taught me that. Tease calmness of manner and presence of mind! No, no—feel he may defy us there. And as to laughter, we will not expose ourselves, if you please, by attempting to laugh without a subject. Mr Darcy may hug himself.'

Essentially, Caroline is complimenting Darcy's calm disposition, his composure and ability to contain his emotions (which is amusing in itself because he fails miserably at both when in the presence of a lady that he is actually attracted to, i.e. Elizabeth) before she concludes that Darcy has no personality trait that could possibly laughed at.

Mr Darcy, however, doesn't allow such an opinion of him to go unchecked. He responds and explicitly accepts he isn't perfect, as he says that:

'Miss Bingley,' said he, 'has given me more credit than can be.'

Following some back-and-forth regarding Elizabeth loving a laugh and Darcy basically saying he can't possibly be overly proud because of his sUpEriOr MiNd (ha!) Caroline chimes back in with a question:

'Your examination of Mr Darcy is over, I presume,' said Miss Bingley; 'and pray what is the result?'

Elizabeth sarcastically responds:

'I am perfectly convinced by it that Mr Darcy has no defect. He owns it himself without disguise.'

And does Darcy agree with even that teasing assertion that he has absolutely no faults? No. He tells us as much; he admits that he is flawed, but he hopes his faults are not bad enough to be judged for:

'No,' said Darcy, 'I have made no such pretension. I have faults enough, but they are not, I hope, of understanding.

Then he proceeds to tell us what he believes to be his biggest faults which, if we were to take this dialogue at face-value, we would presumably give him credit for his self-awareness:

'My temper I dare not vouch for. It is, I believe, too little yielding—certainly too little for the convenience of the world. I cannot forget the follies and vices of others so soon as I ought, nor their offences against myself. My feelings are not puffed about with every attempt to move them. My temper would perhaps be called resentful. My good opinion once lost, is lost forever.'

I do believe he is being as sincere as he possibly was capable of being here; at this moment, no one had ever challenged his behaviour in the way that Elizabeth eventually does.

However, everything he says is quite superficial and dismisses legitimate grievances that others may have against him. Even in this attempt to be self-aware, we see evidence of his pride; he dismisses behaviour that he finds unacceptable as 'follies and vices,' as though he sees himself above such personal shortcomings; he has a pretty self-centred viewpoint as he deems conflict as, 'offences against myself,' as though he is always the wronged party, rather than he himself ever having wounded others (which is patently wrong, given the insult he aimed at Elizabeth at the Meryton assembly); he also very much gives not like other boys energy when he says his feelings are not 'puffed about with every attempt to move them,' like he couldn't possibly be a sheep and could never be as easily persuaded into a certain course of action as someone like Bingley, which is itself implausible.

So, in showing his disdain for being portrayed as perfect and attempting to be honest about his faults, in fact Darcy further demonstrates deep personal shortcomings that he is seemingly blind to, given his pride. Which is another level of irony considering the interpretations of his character that deem him a beautiful cinnamon roll; too good for this world, too pure.

Ultimately, Mr Darcy is a complex, flawed character. He is not, in my opinion, consciously deceiving Elizabeth here. He undoubtedly possesses many positive traits which thankfully he is eventually able to be recognised for, thanks to Elizabeth's rebuke. But I think he evidently despises the type of flattery which Caroline deploys in this exchange when she acts as though he is flawless. I think Mr Darcy is capable of being self-critical (otherwise he would never have reflected upon his behaviour) to the point that even the reformed Darcy we see at the end of the novel would never believe himself to be without fault, nor would he ever make excuses for his initial behaviour towards Elizabeth.

So, if Mr Darcy himself would never allow his behaviour to be deemed faultless by others, why bother trying to make excuses for him, rather than simply accepting he was wrong in the beginning and absolutely needed to improve himself?

[silverhallow]

Benophie week day one:

What is it to admire a woman?

The household had long since gone to bed. Only the low glow of the hearth lit the library, casting flickers of gold and amber across the spines of well-worn books. Sophie stood at the window, the curtains half-drawn, her figure silhouetted against the moonlight. She’d come to tidy, but lingered, lost in thought, in memory, in dreams she wasn’t supposed to have.

Benedict had been watching her for some time. Not in a way that sought to trap or intrude, but as if trying to understand a melody just beyond hearing.

He stepped inside without pretense, his boots silent against the carpet. She startled when she turned and saw him, immediately stepping back from the window.

“Mr Bridger…” she began, voice taut with instinct, as she went to curtsey.

“Don’t,” he said gently, lifting a hand. “Not tonight. Just… let me say something. Please.”

She hesitated, then gave a small nod. Her hands folded before her, as if bracing herself for him to once again renew his offer… the one she so desperately wanted to take but her past, her life… her heart wouldn’t allow her to take.

He moved closer, not enough to alarm her, but enough that he could see her eyes clearly, catching the flicker of hesitation behind her composure.

“What is it to truly admire a woman?” he asked quietly, more to the room than to her at first.

“To look at her and feel inspiration.

To delight in her beauty.

So much so that all of your defences crumble, that you would willingly take on any pain… any burden for her.

To honour her being…”

—he sighed, the words catching slightly—

“With your deeds and words.”

Sophie froze.

Not because it was inappropriate. Not because he was the son of her employer and she was a maid. Not because he had no idea who she really was, that she was the woman from the masquerade, that she was the lady-in-silver and she’d loved him from the moment they’d met…

But because it felt, or one terrible, breathtaking moment, true. And truth had never been safe.

She swallowed hard, her voice barely audible. “Why are you saying this to me?”

“Because I can’t stop thinking about you,” he said. “Not just your face, or your quiet way of moving through a room, but… something in you. Something I can’t name.” He studied her, his voice soft. “There’s more to you than you let anyone see. You carry it like a burden.”

Her breath caught.

“I said those words once before,” he murmured, almost to himself. “To my brother. I thought I was talking about some ideal woman. A fantasy. But now,”

He took a step closer, not quite touching her.

“Now I realise… I was waiting for you. And I didn’t even know it.”

Sophie looked up at him, her eyes shimmering, not from romance, but from the ache of being seen when she had spent her entire life trying not to be. Trying to survive, not be noticed. And yet… here he was.

“You don’t know who I am,” she said softly.

“No,” he agreed. “But I do know you. You are… Brave. Clever. Kind. And worth more than any other woman I've ever met… even if you won’t tell me who you really are...”

She looked away then, as if his words hurt more than healed. But he didn’t press. He simply waited.

And for one fragile second, Sophie let herself believe that maybe, just maybe, this man saw the real her.

[lord-byrons-ghost]

Salut et Fraternité, my dear Citizen George - (that you pretend to the title of Lord I am aware, but I cannot acknowledge aristocratic pretensions; as for my addressing you by christian rather than last name, you will agree it is much more comic.) For an Englishman, your sentiments appear tolerably reasonable, and your letters are certainly amusing; however, I have a strong objection to make to your mentioning Monsieur de Chevalier Saint Just within them and never once mentioning me, despite the fact it is quite clear to any with the least knowledge of the fashions and intellectual currents of this age that your Style is conspicuously derived from mine! In order to demonstrate this point beyond question, let me draw your attention to the portrait of myself by  Citizen Joseph Boze: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Camille_Desmoulins#/media/File:Camille_Desmoulins_-_Joseph_Boze.png.

You here perceive, unless you are quite as blind and as provincial as Polyphemus, serpentine and lightly disheveled dark curls, a melancholy and brooding air, a distinctly classical nose and mouth, a luminous and restless eye, and a frilled necktie half-hidden by the shadows of the palette, which catch up and intensify the dim mystery of the sitter; all of which, mon cher Christmas (as such, I have been informed, is the name you prefer to go by), are now ignorantly termed to be Byronic attributes, as if no one but George Gordon Noel Byron, 6th Baron Byron, had ever employed them! Add to this your scathing wit, your appreciation of the glories of the Ancients, your predilection for writing with a hangover, your swiftly-shifting humours of unseasonable gaiety and black despair, your habit of throwing your countrymen into fits of puzzlement and concern and incurring banishment for carmen et error, and it becomes a simple case of plagiarism! You may think yourself extremely Original in engaging in incest, calculating, no doubt, that I would not have had time for the pursuit in the midst of all my patriotic duties, but if that is the only defence you can find it will not do at all. You had better reply with all haste, as I already have a philippic forming in my head, and if I grow bored in the interim, or simply become very attached to the phrases, you shall not be able to prevent me from publishing it.

Yours with slanderous intent,

@thelanterneattorney

Dear God, what a veritable wall of words! I doubt any poor fellow was before presented with his faults in such a devilish involved manner - & I am used to missives that look like essays - my lovers send them all too oft - & usually burn the fattest ones when my debts disallow coals. Heigho, pistols at dawn et al it is then! Let us see if I can make a sentence string together well enough in prose to answer this, without becoming more ennuyé than is usual of that yawning verb.

Firstly: George?! Of all the conjugations of my name, that one has fallen into such a disrepute that it is almost as obscure as the locative & about as oft used. You hardly insult me - simply perplex, which seems your usual mode of carrying on - & to be addressed as a citizen of a republic I admire & who gave birth to the new Caesar can be taken as nothing save a compliment! I had far rather be French, Italian or Grecian than inhabit ye nook-shotten isle of the stinking corporal Arthur. However, I beg to correct your assumption of my nationality - I was born & raised in Aberdeen, & as such am more Scots than English - & ask you to to at least use Geordie, if you must be so damn familiar.

Next, my correspondence: aforementioned reference to the Chevalier Saint-Just is not within my letters - which would be a plain case of traitorous friends - of which I have many - or traitorous lovers - of which devils there are still more - but it makes up an entry in mine journal from 1813-14. This suggests burglary - Massena @chicksncash, if you helped him I swear by Jove to call you out! - which is far more concerning when coming from a rather insane journaliste. I believe property is sacred under your Declaration of the Rights of Man &c, & so if you would give me back my deuced scribblings, I would be grateful.

Yon portrait is lacking from ye missive, so I shall ask Teresa to aid me in supplying a copy of it alongside one of my own, for comparison:

'Pon the subject of my supposed plagiarismes: My curls are certainly not serpentine - simply charmingly windswept, as is to be expected from traipsing about in sublimity - & bear not the lightest resemblance to ye ancient tempted the Serpent, being far too short. As for this melancholia of air - Phah! I have no such sullen countenance as yours - although I am a devil in a mood - nor do I look upon death's door with consumption. Yon "dim mystery of the sitter" is certainly the kind of trash dear Polly-Dolly would write about me, but is hardly apropos from a man of some literary talent. This Byronic air you speak of is hardly the depression of the incarcerated firebrand, as is evident in your portrait, but simply the inevitable absence of ye world traveller pondering the mountains & smoking.

I admit that I gain some attributes of my manner of carrying on from you, but is not imitation the sincerest form of flattery? If ayne fellow of talent - @franzliszt-official for example - came up to me with a reputation for imitating my mannerisms, I should offer him hock & soda on ye spotte! My only defence for stealing your gay moods & melancholia is that I found you fascinating as an infant, & something about your heroism must have wormed into my unformed mind to lodge there.

Your final point is one no gentleman would make, let alone acknowledge. I do not know what that harpy my wife has been saying, but her words are driven by spite and disappointment in my "failure to reform", & are not worth their damn salt. You would do well to refrain from mentioning such toss again.

Yr humble servante,

Byron.

[mllemaenad]

So ... you know how you sometimes want to point out that, hey, this random NPC has a point! Maybe leaving the defence of Antiva to a group of thugs-for-hire with aristocratic pretensions who are known for engaging in slavery and the use of child soldiers is not the best idea ever! But. The NPC is so obviously coded as a villain that you just sigh and move on?

Yeah.

I get that I'm supposed to like these two, but they're so self-righteous. And nothing I've heard about the Crows prior to this makes me think particularly well of them.

[bwoahtastic]

thinking about the crime au again. specifically max and Charles taking it upon themselves to teach oscar self defence. Their original intentions really are just to help oscar learn how to keep himself if he even needed to again but oscar shows up to the gym in tight work out leggings and maybe like a sports bra style tank top and suddenly neither of them are functioning at full capacity.

they wanna see where oscar threshold is so max and oscar have a friendly little spar, max obviously isn't trying all that hard, he doesn't wanna hurt oscar he just want's to pin him until he taps out. the problem is that oscar does yoga every morning and maybe a pilates class once a week so he's surprisingly flexible so the sparring ends up being more max throwing oscar around forcing him into increasingly uncomfortable positions trying to make osc tap out but instead oscar just goes with it, rag dolling and letting max bend him in half. which is not very effective in terms of self defence but is incredibly effective in terms of making max and Charles horny.

Eventually they give up on the pretense of sparing when max has oscar pinnind flat on his back one hand pinning both of oscars to the mat, the other wrapped threateningly (but loosely) around his throat and oscar moans. Max moves his knee pressing up against the wet spot on oscar leggings letting him grind his pussy against max's leg.

they don't teach oscar much in the way of self defence, but they did learn that oscar loves being manhandled and is VERY flexible.

Plsss I MISS THEM

Charles and Max deciding to train Oscar one day and they know its going to be hard when Oscar shows up in tight leggings and a cropped tight top, smiling serenely as he does some stretches to warm up.

Charles having Max spar with Oscar while Charles hoovers close to step in if needed cos that's still his darling (actually 2 of his darlings, he will kiss Max's ouchies better too). Max is careful but trying to get Osc to tap out, but getting increasingly confused as Oscar is so flexible and can be bend every which way with ease.

Max bending Oscar's legs flat against his torso so he is practically folded in half and Oscar let's him, humming a bit and just relaxing into the touch and Charles turns to check something in the window so he can sneakily adjust himself because fuck he is getting hard!

Mad can't really hide it, especially when Oscar shifts and brushing against him. Max turning s little more frantic trying to get Oscar to tap out, and he thinks he is succeeding as he has Oscar's hands above his head and one of his hands against Oscar's throat. Oscar goes a little wide eyed and Max expects him to tap out, but instead Oscar moans and rubs against his thigh which honestly leaves both other men speechless.

Charles dropping to his knees on the nat next to them, fingers against Oscar's chin as he hoarsely whispers Oscar is the best fucking thing that ever happened to them before leaning in for a messy kiss after signalling to Max he is allowed to tear the leggings open. They will buy Osc new ones after <3

[the-light-of-stars]

Multiple palestinian, jewish, german and international leftist organisations, among them members of the BDS movement and Jewish Voice for a Just Peace, have been organising an event for the discussion and education on matters of palestinian liberation and human rights under the title 'Palestine Congress'.

German politicians and media have been repeatedly calling this event things like "terror event" or "event to spread 'imported antisemitism'" (a racist term common in the current german discussion referring to the idea that antisemitism in germany stems from and is being spread by immigrants and not from ethnically german citizens) and have been calling for a boycott and ban of the event and repercussions against its participants, and have already enacted repercussions against jewish organisations like Jewish Voice in the name of supposedly 'fighting antisemitism' , an argument the german government and media keep bringing up as a moral pretense to justify their continued support of Israel as their second biggest supplier of weapons, and which in the past months and years has lead to the arrests of many protestors, a very large part of them jewish.

"Broad resistance against 'Palestine Congress'"

A broad alliance [of people] from politics and civil society has called for a protest against the 'Palestine Congress' that is supposed to happen in Berlin at the end of the week.

"Berlin must not become the center of terror glorification", emphasized the alliance and explicitly referred to an appeal by the youth organisations of the political parties Grüne [greens/progressives], SPD [social democrats], FDP [liberals] and CDU [conservatives] as well as the youth forum of the German-Israeli-Society (DIG) and the Jewish Student Union Germany.

Famous supporters of the alliance are among others the parliament members Alexander Throm (CDU), Wolfgang Kubicki (FDP), Kevin Kühnert (SPD), Marie-Agnes Strack-Zimmermann (FDP) and the former Berlin senator of culture Klaus Lederer (Linke [the left]).

This sentiment and call for protest was shared by the president of the Central Council of Jewish People in Germany who was quoted on the organisation's twitter account:

" Dr. Schuster regarding the planned Palestine Congress in Berlin: 'This event is a parade of anti-zionism and very certainly will not find any answers for the suffering of the civilian population in Gaza. On the contrary: Those who disregard the terror of Hamas and with it also the murderous strategy of the organisation against its own civilian population discredit themselves."

This of course is referring to the popular (in german media and politics) talking point that the deaths and otherwise suffering of civilians in Gaza was not caused by Israel but by palestinians themselves, specifically this argument states that Israel is only defending itself and is intentionally being tricked or forced into killing and starving civilians and breaking human rights conventions by Hamas as some sort of palestinian strategy to discredit the israeli government and that it is not doing this out of its own volition, and that the Gazan civilian populace acts as 'shields' for Hamas that Israel is forced to attack against its will for the sake of self defence.

German media and politicians love calling Israel the victim and treating palestinians as both the perpetrators and collateral damage , at most offering a fake 'oh the situation for the civilians is not good' while cutting off aid to Palestine and increasing weapons sales to Israel.

Of note for this particular situation:

The Palestine Congress is organised by multiple palestinian, jewish, german and international leftist organisations, among them also the jewish organisation Jewish Voice for a Just Peace.

Just recently a german state bank had frozen the organisation's bank account, thus freezing thousands of euros the organisation had meant to use as funding for the Congress. The bank also had demanded a detailed list of all of the organisation's members, including data such as their names and home adresses.

"The repression of the german state against the Palestine solidarity movement are escalating daily, they range from prohibition of demonstrations to police raids, and now the bank account of a jewish organisation was frozen in the name of fighting antisemitism - by the Berlin Sparkasse, a financial institution under public law." , said Wieland Hoban, chairperson of 'Jewish Voice' to jW on wednesday.

The unconditional support of Israel, that may be sold as a moral imperative but that serves real political purposes, leads to a 'dehumanisation of palestinians' and a declaration of war against everyone who calls for equality and freedom for them. "Who thinks they're ensuring jewish safety by doing this is gravely mistaken." so Hoban."

[gracequilll]

Undoing

Dont you ever miss me at all?

If you do, why dont you call?

Why don't you ever come talk?

Why don't you ever just come to my door and knock?

Do you think I wouldn't open?

Even though we had something thats now broken,

I would still hear you out,

Though I might end up getting angry and shout.

Bear with it still, bear with it anyway,

Because thats not how i really feel, its just for display.

Its all pretense,

Just an intense mechanism of defence.

I thought you knew that well,

How I keep things inside but still manage to yell.

I had wished you weren't thinking of me in a bad light,

But how could you, when we're both so full of spite.

Maybe thats our undoing,

The reason why the hate kept brewing,

Why the distance only ever grew to be far,

Though I hope we can overcome it one day but we are who we are.

⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅

•

•

•

•

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Hii, this is Grace Hill. A high school student who wants to post her writings. I mostly write about my feelings and desires and I hope you find these relatable and enjoyable! <3.

Ps i think i miss everyone i've ever met (˚ˎ 。7

[corvusr3gina]

"i find the way that the language of ‘wokeness’ (a word bastardized by white tongues who colonized it and made it filthy, who removed it from its home and context) has been weaponized to hide or perpetuate conservative values beyond sickening. words used to mean things. the unread are throwing around accusations of being out of touch for expecting basic cultural literacy like rice at a wedding, not aware that they are revealing their own views on class- on who they believe the arts are for." - ayan artan, in defence of pretension

"if you remove empathy and open-mindedness- the two traits i would argue art alone can teach us- from the way medicine is practiced or policy is passed, what are we left with? it was cold, reasonable ‘rationalism’ that gave us slavery and has allowed the perpetuating of genocides the world over. the removal of humanness from our thinking has resulted in the acceptance of xenophobia. it was cold, selective rationalism that allowed europeans to experiment on african patients.

art is the curing of callousness. we have doctors who heal our bodies, psychiatrists who are tasked with healing our minds. it is information, books, paintings, films that can heal our souls. this war on knowing is in reality a war on feeling. on thinking. you will never come across a well-read zionist." - ayan artan, in defence of pretension

something different than usual but very profound & crucial in today's political climate. thank you to this wonderful author for untangling my own thoughts and articulating them so well <3

[isitsidd]

How much do we have to know about the Israel-Palestinian conflict to know the fact that killing innocent civilian is NOT JUSTIFIABLE. That bombing a hospital where hundreds and thousands of people have taken refuge is not JUSTIFIABLE. It's just undebatable.

Cementing rivers, cutting off food, Water electricity... is this right? In which book does it have to be written, whose validation do we need to speak up for these innocent people. To speak up for the children whose parents are killed right in front them. To speak up for those who saw their families being ruthlessly massacred and bombed.

It is not about supporting a particular religion or a country, it's about standing up for those innocent people who are killed for no apparent reason. It's about standing up against what's wrong. It's about standing up against inhumanity, monstrosity, genocide, massacres, bombing and above all VIOLENCE.

It's not about Israelis or Palestinians, it's about the people. Complete innocent people. About their sufferings, trauma, struggle, pain. About the loss of their families, their children, their home. It's about that feeling when they see their home being shot down to rubble. When they have to pull their own families from underneath that heap of broken homes and buildings. It's about protecting the innocence of these kids. Giving them the childhood that every child deserves. Where they don't have to be in constant fear about a bomb being dropped.

It's a question about humanity. It's about whether we'll speak up or not when the children's heads are being blowned off, when a father has his son's remains in a mere plastic bag, when the aftershocks of the airstrike is so bad that all that remains are beheaded bodies. This is not fair. The bombings, the killings in Gaza is just so not fair.

Hamas is not Palestine. Hamas is not Gaza. Hams is not the children. Hamas is not the people.

This is an open massacre under a false pretense of "self-defence".

[dreaminginthedeepsouth]

Common Sense

I am excerpting Tom Paine’s pam,phlet “Common Sense,” publication of which on February 14, 1776, did more to convince a new immigrant’s fellow colonists that the time had come to stop being “subjects” of a king and start being “citizens” of a republic.

“Perhaps the sentiments contained in the following pages, are not yet sufficiently fashionable to procure them general Favor; a long Habit of not thinking a Thing wrong, gives it a superficial appearance of being right, and raises at first a formidable outcry in defence of Custom. But the Tumult soon subsides. Time makes more Converts than Reason.

“As a long and violent abuse of power is generally the means of calling the right of it in question, (and in matters too which might never have been thought of, had not the sufferers been aggravated into the inquiry,) and as the King of England hath undertaken in his own right, to support the Parliament in what he calls Theirs, and as the good People of this Country are grievously oppressed by the Combination, they have an undoubted privilege to enquire into the Pretensions of both, and equally to reject the Usurpation of either…

“The cause of America is in a great measure the cause of all mankind. Many circumstances have, and will arise, which are not local, but universal, and through which the principles of all lovers of mankind are affected, and in the event of which their affections are interested. The laying a country desolate with fire and sword, declaring war against the natural rights of all mankind, and extirpating the defenders thereof from the face of the earth, is the concern of every man to whom nature hath given the power of feeling…

“In the following pages I offer nothing more than simple facts, plain arguments, and common sense: and have no other preliminaries to settle with the reader, than that he will divest himself of prejudice and prepossession, and suffer his reason and his feelings to determine for themselves: that he will put on, or rather that he will not put off, the true character of a man, and generously enlarge his views beyond the present day.

“The Sun never shined on a cause of greater worth. ‘Tis not the affair of a City, a County, a Province, or a Kingdom; but of a Continent—of at least one eighth part of the habitable Globe. ‘Tis not the concern of a day, a year, or an age; posterity are virtually involved in the contest, and will be more or less affected even to the end of time, by the proceedings now. Now is the seed-time of Continental union, faith and honour. The least fracture now will be like a name engraved with the point of a pin on the tender rind of a young oak; the wound would enlarge with the tree, and posterity read it in full grown characters…

“But Britain is the parent country, say some. Then the more shame upon her conduct. Even brutes do not devour their young, nor savages make war upon their families; Wherefore, the assertion, if true, turns to her reproach; but it happens not to be true, or only partly so, and the phrase parent or mother country hath been jesuitically adopted by the King and his parasites, with a low papistical design of gaining an unfair bias on the credulous weakness of our minds. Europe, and not England, is the parent country of America. This new World hath been the asylum for the persecuted lovers of civil and religious liberty from every part of Europe. Hither have they fled, not from the tender embraces of the mother, but from the cruelty of the monster; and it is so far true of England, that the same tyranny which drove the first emigrants from home, pursues their descendants still…

“But where, say some, is the King of America? I’ll tell you, friend, he reigns above, and doth not make havoc of mankind like the Royal Brute of Great Britain. Yet that we may not appear to be defective even in earthly honours, let a day be solemnly set apart for proclaiming the Charter; let it be brought forth placed on the Divine Law, the Word of God; let a crown be placed thereon, by which the world may know, that so far as we approve of monarchy, that in America the law is king. For as in absolute governments the King is law, so in free countries the law ought to be king; and there ought to be no other. But lest any ill use should afterwards arise, let the Crown at the conclusion of the ceremony be demolished, and scattered among the people whose right it is…

“O! ye that love mankind! Ye that dare oppose not only the tyranny but the tyrant, stand forth! Every spot of the old world is overrun with oppression. Freedom hath been hunted round the Globe. Asia and Africa have long expelled her. Europe regards her like a stranger, and England hath given her warning to depart. O! receive the fugitive, and prepare in time an asylum for mankind…

“The infant state of the Colonies, as it is called, so far from being against, is an argument in favour of independance. We are sufficiently numerous, and were we more so we might be less united. ‘Tis a matter worthy of observation, that the more a country is peopled, the smaller their armies are. In military numbers, the ancients far exceeded the moderns: and the reason is evident, for trade being the consequence of population, men became too much absorbed thereby to attend to any thing else. Commerce diminishes the spirit both of patriotism and military defence. And history sufficiently informs us, that the bravest achievements were always accomplished in the non-age of a nation. With the increase of commerce England hath lost its spirit. The city of London, notwithstanding its numbers, submits to continued insults with the patience of a coward. The more men have to lose, the less willing are they to venture. The rich are in general slaves to fear, and submit to courtly power with the trembling duplicity of a spaniel…

“I shall conclude these remarks, with the following timely and well-intended hints. We ought to reflect, that there are three different ways by which an independancy may hereafter be effected; and that one of those three, will, one day or other, be the fate of America, viz. By the legal voice of the people in Congress; by a military power; or by a mob: It may not always happen that our soldiers are citizens, and the multitude a body of reasonable men; virtue, as I have already remarked, is not hereditary, neither is it perpetual. Should an independancy be brought about by the first of those means, we have every opportunity and every encouragement before us, to form the noblest, purest constitution on the face of the earth. We have it in our power to begin the world over again. A situation, similar to the present, hath not happened since the days of Noah until now. The birthday of a new world is at hand, and a race of men, perhaps as numerous as all Europe contains, are to receive their portion of freedom from the events of a few months. The reflection is awful, and in this point of view, how trifling, how ridiculous, do the little paltry cavilings of a few weak or interested men appear, when weighed against the business of a world.

In short, Independance is the only BOND that tye and keep us together. We shall then see our object, and our ears will be legally shut against the schemes of an intriguing, as well as cruel, enemy. We shall then, too, be on a proper footing to treat with Britain; for there is reason to conclude, that the pride of that court will be less hurt by treating with the American states for terms of peace, than with those, whom she denominates “rebellious subjects,” for terms of accommodation. It is our delaying in that, encourages her to hope for conquest, and our backwardness tends only to prolong the war. As we have, without any good effect therefrom, withheld our trade to obtain a redress of our grievances, let us now try the alternative, by independantly redressing them ourselves, and then offering to open the trade. The mercantile and reasonable part of England, will be still with us; because, peace, with trade, is preferable to war without it. And if this offer be not accepted, other courts may be applied to.

“On these grounds I rest the matter. And as no offer hath yet been made to refute the doctrine contained in the former editions of this pamphlet, it is a negative proof, that either the doctrine cannot be refuted, or, that the party in favor of it are too numerous to be opposed. WHEREFORE, instead of gazing at each other with suspicious or doubtful curiosity, let each of us hold out to his neighbor the hearty hand of friendship, and unite in drawing a line, which, like an act of oblivion, shall bury in forgetfulness every former dissention. Let the names of Whig and Tory be extinct; and let none other be heard among us, than those of a good citizen; an open and resolute friend; and a virtuous supporter of the RIGHTS of MANKIND, and of the FREE AND INDEPENDANT STATES OF AMERICA.”

And you, Good Reader, can go read the whole thing, an admirable document that presents a lot of history, because Paine believed his audience were intelligent people who were due a strong argument.

Common Sense by Thomas Paine

[Thanks TCinLA :: Thats Another Fine Mess]

[daylander1000]

HotD vs GoT (season 1) ?

I've seen many comparisons between the two and according to some critics (quite a lot of them tbh) HotD is superior or has a potential to be because... reasons. Now, while I do believe that, while comparisons are always odious they sometimes make, but this one is really weird and unjust because a lot of people are still disappointed with how GoT ended (personally, I wasn't happy with how some things played out either, especially in the last two seasons, but I am definitely not that upset four years later and actually remember the show as a whole more or less fondly) and this disappointment together with anti D&D discourse probably clouds the judgement. However, they seem to ignore that GoT had 8 seasons and was mostly well liked and praised until the last two, while HOTD has barely begun and already has many problems writing-wise imho. Will those same people, after HOTD ends (and there is no way that everyone will be satisfied with the ending) retrospectively start to hate everything they are praising right now, I wonder? I do sincerely hope that HotD will improve and that every new season will be better then the previous one, but based strictly on the first seasons (I recently rewatched GoT s1) it's GoT >> HotD.

What do you think?

I didn't like GOT. I didn't watch it properly. I tuned in to see how they did some of the bigger moments like Red Wedding and Purple Wedding, and I watched the last two seasons just for asoiaf closure, and honestly, I liked the GOT ending, more or less.

Not Dany being killed by Jon, or Arya vs Night King, or King Bran, but Dany burning the whole place down. Her arc's sort of going there in the books imo. I'm a simple woman—I'm in this for the dragons and for Drogon burning things. I wanted to see Stoneheart and Young Griff and those storylines, but I will take Drogon burning things.

I truly don't get the pretense that HOTD is better than GOT or that Codal & co are in any way better than D&D. I'm giving them less points actually because they saw how GOT unraveled and they've made zero improvements. D&D at least have an excuse—Martin promised to have the books finished when they started. They signed on to adapt, not finish asoiaf on their own strengths. It's a complicated thing that even the creator is struggling with after a decade. They tried, at least.

Codal and co are already floundering in S1. They've already lost narrative coherence. Even the characters aren't coherent. And yes, you can use a time skip to just wave a "People change" flag at all the inconsistencies but come on.

In their defence tho, "And then all the hyper-intelligent special rare sentient magic dragons killed each other in the stupidest ways ever for no real reason" is not an easy story to tell without an extreme amount of hand-waving.

I don't think F&B should exist. I think Martin should have looked it over a couple of times like "Hot six-year-old? Jumping from one dragon to another? WTF is this? This ain't it. Nope."

Honestly, I think HBO just has a bunch of media people on the payroll hyping them up so they can use the emmys for free advertising. Brian Cox is up for a lead actor Emmy with a grand total of three episodes? It's not TV, just HBO living by HBO rules. If they say it's better then it's better. 🤷🏾‍♀️