#its a great day when a rich person dies

[call-sign-shark]

Of Bending and Breaking || Tommy Shelby x Reader

Summary: Always being the one who cares for others comes with a price: you break down, but the most unexpected person is here for you: Tommy, the man you were forced to marry.

Words: 2,3k

TW: Hurt/Comfort, very tiny mention of past sexual assault, no proofreading 'cause it comes from clearing my drafts.

Notes: Aunt Isabella's is a tribute to my own aunt Isabelle who, unfortunately, died because of cancer a few years ago.

It all started with Polly shaking Tommy like a tree, her thin hands firmly grabbing his nephew’s broad shoulders: “You can’t keep sabotaging yourself like this, Tom.” These were the words that left her quivering lips as she dragged his staggering frame to the bathroom and pushed his face into the bathtub right under the tap. When the freezing water splashed all over his neck, Tommy opened his blank eyes wide and inhaled sharply, as if he had suddenly come back to life. Since Grace’s awful death, the gangster was the shadow of his former self. When he wasn’t waging a senseless war with Father Hughes and the Italian, or when he wasn’t keeping his buzzing mind busy with work, Tommy usually numbed himself with a deadly combination of whisky and opium until his deep-seated pain became bearable. It was the night he almost overdosed that Polly decided to take charge of his nephew and found him a new wife, in the hope of soothing his nephew’s mind and finding a mother figure for poor little Charlie. The idea had obviously sent Tommy in a fit of anger but Polly Gray couldn’t care less.

Regarding your own situation, it was not the opium nor the loss of a dear lover that had led you to Birmingham’s most dangerous man but rather the bump in your belly. Aunt Isabella had understood what you were suffering from the moment you had stormed out of the vardo to throw up your breakfast in the nearest bush. The tall and lean woman, whose light brown and curly mane danced in the cold autumn wind, had looked at you right in the eyes and raised one of her thin eyebrows. If there was something pleasant with her, it was that words weren’t necessary.

Yet, later she encountered Polly, with whom she had been a great friend since childhood, and explained that a powerful American man had forced his seeds in you during his stay in England. Not willing to go through the traumatic experience of aborting, Isabella only saw one solution to your problem: you needed a husband who could protect you and your future baby from the evil man with his scarred lip. A wedding would be your salvation. At the realization of what Aunt Isabella had planned for you, you tried to run away from the camp in the middle of the night but she knew you too well and soon caught you, her sly hand firmly grabbing your wrist: “Y/N! It’s for your sake! He’s rich, he needs a wife and he is feared! You’ll be safe with him, don’t you understand?” She explained, cupping your face with her long fingers adorned with claws painted in red and far too many rings. “I don’t need a man to protect me! I don’t need anyone. He’s older and he’s a criminal! Who’s going to protect me from him eh? Have you think ‘bout that?” You cried, the soft light of the sunrise turning your tears into liquid gold.

But still, you wedded him and what was supposed to be the happiest day of your life turned out to be a dull event during which you dissociated the whole time. The only memories you had in mind were two piercing and frightening turquoise eyes staring right at your soul and soft whiskey-tasting lips stealing a quick peck from your cherry lips. A kiss devoid of any form of affection. And then, the groom left.

From what Aunt Isabella told you, your husband had spent most of the celebrations with his brothers, drinking and taking bets outside of Arrow House. Months had passed and still, you felt estranged to this place and its staff. The only moments your heart lightened were when Aunt Isabella visited you, or when Charlie spent time with you, otherwise you remained emotionally closed, trapped in your own mind. Overall you could not complain: You had a house far too big for you with plenty of workers willing to exhaust every one of your wishes. Charlie was a sweet boy, who loved you with all his heart even if you were well aware that you’ll never replace his mother. As for the Shelby clan, they were cordial with you without being really friendly either. And there was Tommy…

Cold and distant Tommy, who you only saw late at night when he discretely slipped under the bedsheet and turned his back to you without uttering a single word. Busy Tommy, whose replies remained concise and spoken with a quiet husky voice each time you asked him something — at least he talked to you a little bit. Trapped in a loveless marriage, that was what you were: Tommy was more a stranger, a mere gust of wind in your life, than the love of your life.

Still, the gangster stayed true to his words and he provided for everything, never refusing to give you money when you asked, and protecting you from the man who had taken your innocence. He even gifted you a wonderful stallion because he knew how much you missed riding. In exchange for his protection and riches, all you had to do was take care of Charlie and do your best to be there for your husband when his darkness threatened to swallow him whole.

You found out about the nightmares shortly after your wedding and quickly decided to do something about it. When he woke up screaming and drenched in sweat after tasting the tunnels’ dirt and Grace’s crimson blood in his troubled sleep, you always cradle him, your fingers losing themselves in his wet dark hair to pet his head gently. At first, you feared his reaction, expecting the infamous Tommy Shelby to push you and not-so-kindly ask you to keep your distance but, to your greatest surprise, he never did. Instead, he would bury his face in your cleavage, panting and trembling, and let you reassure him. Just like he let you bring dinner to him each time he drowned himself in paperwork and forgot to eat. He never commented on your cooking skills though, even if he always handed back empty plates.

The blood on his skin? You cleaned it.

The wounds of his flesh? You never failed to patched them up.

The hole in his heart? You tried to seal it off with caresses, soft kisses, and shoulder massages. Maybe one day he would slowly turn his iciness into affection. Little did you know that he needed it. And by it he needed you. Just like the whole family. How many times did you walk the streets of Birmingham at night, seeking for Arthur and then bringing him home to take care of a wasted and high him? Far too many to keep track. Similarly, you had spent countless evenings helping Ada when she felt overwhelmed, either nursing Karl or cleaning her house when, just like her brother, she overworked herself. And finally, Polly could never thank you enough for everything you did to soothe her mind after the gallows, still haunted by the bite of the hanging rope on her throat.

“Thanks Poppy.” Arthur muttered, the gravel in his voice coated with shame now that you were down clearing and disinfecting his split knuckles. The oldest brother had started to affectionately call you so for the sole reason that, according to him, you must probably grow better when blood was considering how much you had seen when patching the Shelby siblings. “Sorry for errr… For the mess.” He went on, his steel blue eyes fleeing yours.

“That’s okay.” You replied in Romani, “You, sweet idiot.” Endeared by how surprisingly soft Arthur’s harsh complexions could turn, you couldn’t help but gently put your hand on one of his cheeks. And during this tender display of affection, Arthur was convinced he had caught sight of a smile — a scarce event barely happening on your beautiful but resigned face. Comforted by the warmth of your palm, he leaned into your touch and looked at you through dark lashes, his lids half-closed.

“Tommy’s one lucky bastard to have ya for himself, eh."

"Let's both flee together then." You teased, the familiar tone of Romani language rendered even more melodious by your siren-like voice.

"Don't tempt me, little one." Arthur replied, softer than intended and probably only half-joking.

The oldest Shelby brother had barely closed the door when your smile disappeared and tears flooded your eyes. Admittedly, spending months of repressing your own anguish didn’t do any good to you despite thinking that focusing on others would have helped. Quite the contrary, all those negative emotions you had left on the back burner turned into a silent and deadly parasite that was eating you up. Dragging your tired frame to the cold and empty marital bedroom, you curled up in a ball in a corner of the room, your bruised knees pressed against your chest, “Positive. You gotta stay positive and push forwards y’see Y/N? Do the right things for the family…” You whispered to yourself as your breath started to quicken for the ball of sorrow in your throat was growing more and more. Yes, you had to smile and say that all was just fine because you knew you were lucky to be here and that you hadn’t any real reason to complain now according to the rest of the world. And yet, the truth was you were tired. So tired and overwhelmed by everything around you. With your wild soul trapped here in the mighty walls of Arrow House, you could not help but drown in an excruciating feeling of worthlessness.

You were lost in a world too difficult for you to understand. Lost and unprepared for a life that asked for too much. When you were living in the vardo with Aunt Isabella life seemed so much easier despite the lack of money and, sometimes, food. Prior to your wedding, she used to tell you that everything would become clear once you’d be a wife and a mother. You’d be an adult adult, you see? But she lied. They all lied. Even with a husband and kids, you still felt like a scared and confused child, who wanted to hide under the blanket of her warm bed and never face the world ever again. These concerns of yours? You never shared because you wanted the Shelby to keep seeing you as a reassuring presence— moreover, God knew how much their broken hearts needed your silent care.

Bringing your trembling fingers to your mouth, you muffled a first sob, convinced it would be enough to keep you from crying. What you didn’t expect was to burst into tears, uncontrollably weeping. After all this time forcing yourself to be strong, your mind had enough. As your heart-wrenching cries echoed in the room they muffled Tommy’s footsteps that were coming closer and closer. When the door flung open, you did not even move, lost in a spiral of pain and psychological exhaustion.

“Y/N?!” Tommy called you, his usual coldness swept away by a surge of panic. He closed the distance between you and him with hastened steps, and put one of his knees on the floor to be at your level, “What’s wrong, ay?” His husky voice asked, worries thickening his Brummie accent even more. You hiccuped and raised your flooded eyes towards him, parting your lips to answer. Yet, as soon as your gaze met his turquoise iris you started weeping again, louder this time. Words were at a loss by dint of never having the chance to express what you felt throughout your life. “Bloody Hell, Y/N! Speak!” Tommy hissed, his heart now drumming in his chest at the sight of his young and always-so-strong wife crumbling in bits in front of him. Never in his life, he had felt so powerless, not even in the tunnels… And, God, he hated it.

“N-nothing. I don’t… I don’t even know it’s just that— I’m so fucking tired, and lost, and confused, and afraid!” You spoke with a very fast pace, spitting years and years of repressed emotions flowing from you all the while feeling deeply ashamed of your mental breakdown. When you were done venting, you simply turned your head and waved off the topic, tears still rolling down your reddened cheeks “Anyway! You’ve got — more important things to do.”

“Stop it, Y/N,” He scolded, low voice rumbling in his chest. His strong and calloused hands, damaged by the war and hard work, cupped your face with a softness you didn’t know he possessed. For the first time in your life, his grip felt utterly reassuring as if you knew these scarred palms were not going to let you fall apart. Never. “You’re what’s important right now.” With that being said, Tommy leaned his forehead against yours and his enchanting eyes soon met yours to force you to focus on nothing else but the vast blue oceans which composed them. “I want you to calm down.”

“I can’t, I can’t—“ You tried to speak but you couldn’t, struggling to breathe under the crushing weight of your panic attack. Your mouth gaped, looking for the oxygen it couldn’t find.

“Oi!” Tommy said louder. So loud that his voice managed to overcome the cacophony of your beating heart and the buzzing sound of your anxiety that filled your head, “I want you to breathe with me, Y/N. Alright? You can do that for me, ay?” He asked, his eyebrows slightly frowned and charming crowfeet appearing at the corner of his eyes — how odd it was to see Tommy’s face veiled with something else than unsettling placidity. Caught off guard by the sudden realization of how close he was, you quieted down a little bit and soon followed the pattern of his breathing.

One long inhale through the nose, one longer exhale through the mouth, and a short pose.

Do it again.

Your shaky hands slowly grabbed his wrists in a desperate attempt to anchor you to reality. This, as well as the focus you had on his mesmerizing complexions.

His long dark lashes — you inhaled slowly.

His cat-like turquoise iris — you exhaled.

His salient cheekbones — You stopped breathing for a very short while.

The myriad of freckles — “Breathe with me, Y/N.”

The soft, hoarse lilt guided you through the dark and thick fog of your own brain, just like a lighthouse. Coming back to clearer waters, your body finally relaxed and fell almost limp in his arms. And once again he caught you, keeping you all safe against his chest. Tommy’s voice, low and steady, resonated one last time in the bedroom with a reassuring warmth as he uttered the simple yet powerful phrase, "I'm here." Each word carefully enunciated, carrying a quiet strength that soothed and reassured, like a comforting anchor in a stormy sea.

Keep your writers motivated: Reblog and/or comment if you liked it, you filthy animal! o/ English is not my first language btw.

Taglist: @adaydreamaway08 @theshelbyclan @jomarch-wannabe @esposadomd @zablife @woofgocows @anathemasworld @anastasia000 @kate654 @kxnnxy @babayaga67 @meowtastick @shelbyssins @sarai-ibn-la-ahad @bluevenus19 @raincoffeeandfandoms @kishie8 @zablife @alexandra-001 @dearshelby @alexizodd @helen06dreamer @kmc1989 @emotionalcadaver @peakyswritings @peakyltd @chaosinkest1996 @vanhelsingsbigtoe @red-riding-wood

[bella-goths-wife]

How would Pet reader and Alastor interact after he returned from his 7 year long absence?

How would Alastor and pet interact after his absence

I assume you mean in the canon au and not the alastor makes a deal with you au but if I’m wrong feel free to request again :)

I’m sorry it’s not much interacting but they don’t really meet much at this point in the story

Warnings: abuse mentioned, obsessive behaviour

After his seven year absence, alastor did try to subtly seek you out

He lingered around where he met you and expected to find you in the same position you were in seven years ago, a starving little fawn on the street who was desperate enough for shelter that you’d be willing to make a deal

But he didn’t find you, not a trace of the little doe eyed fool he had felt such a familiarity with

So he cut his losses for the meantime and decided that he would trouble one of the many souls he owned to stalk you down

So imagine his surprise when on a random afternoon he passed by angel and heard your voice from angels annoying little gadget

He asked for a closer look and there you were, the person who had been on his mind for the seven years was stood with the Vs surrounding them

You looked different though

You were cleaner and more well fed, meaning you had been able to escape the cold streets and found food

But there was a difference in your eyes as you posed with the Vs, there was a lack of something

Your eyes didn’t hold the same curiosity or passion that he knew of the girl he met several years ago who was so eager to learn more about her abilities

You looked like a candle lit flame that was running at the bottom of wick and was being drowned out and smothered by candle wax, your fire was slowly dying inside you

He demanded angel showed him everything out there that pertained to you, and angel gladly did with the small hope that maybe alastor would take enough interest in you to help you

Alastor absorbed every piece of media you were in and every sound you had created, anything that the internet held of you alastor would consume

He observed how the passion slowly died from your face and the years went on, he heard how your music which was once so alive and inventive turn into something generic and easily forgotten

In many ways he prepared himself to mourn the person he had met, he doubted that there was any of you left to mourn considering the Vs had drained your presence of its spark

Alastor felt something he hadn’t felt in a while, he felt pity for you

He heard of the horrifying things your were subjected to on a daily basis and he just couldn’t stop the sympathy from bubbling to to the service

He was no good soul owner himself, he was fairly abusive but that’s only when he had to correct behaviour

He felt overwhelming jealousy and anger at Vox over how Vox had claimed your soul before him and ruined you

Alastor could have made you into something great, something more than a pet to the rich for when they felt cruel or bored

Alastor was almost ready to give up on you and see you as a failed project, but something stopped him

angel had mentioned your acts of kindness towards him and alastor had to hear of your very intriguing presence from Charlie, so he decided to test you before giving up to see if you were worth more effort

He followed you for weeks on end with his shadows, and he saw many things

He saw how your cunning side could slip out when you saw an opportunity to escape a punishment and how manipulative you could be

He also saw how your anger had gotten the best of you on many occasions and watched as your powers manifested into something dangerous, something lethal

He fantasied about making you into a powerful being, someone who could one day be on a level close to his

He wanted to sculpt you like a sculpture and make you into something bigger than the pentagram had ever seen, he wanted to protect you from the past and make you strong enough to protect yourself from the present

He had angel dust sneak into your room and slip a radio under your bed so he could listen in to your surroundings

He heard you be your authentic self without having to water yourself down

He heard your moments of brief happiness and he heard the many overwhelmingly cruel acts committed to you

He heard your sobs and swear for a minute he felt himself grow caring enough to want to comfort you

So he played a soothing song from the radio once you were too distracted by your sobbing, so it could calm you to sleep and at least offer you the minimal comfort he could offer to you

He felt himself growing attached to the idea of bringing you back to the hotel and surrounding you in his arms like a child to make sure you wouldn’t have to see the faces of your abusers again

He began concocting plans to help you escape, and he was determined to one day own your soul so he could sculpt you in his image like he intended to do several years ago

He had never felt himself caring about anyone this much, he had a need to know where you were at all times and even felt himself grow antsy to see you in person and talk with you like you once did

Parts of him even felt a paternal sense of worry and concern over you in a way he’s never experience before

And he was determined to save you from Vox and bring you home

@lilyalone @repostingmyfavs @the-faceless-bride @idontreallyexistyet @hazbinhotelxreader @corvid007 @fandomaddict505 @buttercupfangirl @ivebeenthearchersstuff @sparkleyfishies @perkypeony @rerarlo

[voxisdaddy]

Old Fashioned

Fandom: Hazbin Hotel

Pairing: Vox x Reader

Type: Headcanons

Featuring: Alastor, Rosie

C/TW: Stalking, Swearing, mentions of porn, use of (y/n)

In which Vox could go full stalker mode on his crush, Reader, but reader doesn’t use much technology and avoids VoxTek appliances.

𓈒ㅤׂㅤ𐙚 ࣪ ⭒ I personally headcanon that Vox, while yes can use any technology to his advantage, only VoxTek products can give him full advantage of his powers.

𓈒ㅤׂㅤ𐙚 ࣪ ⭒ Which is infuriating when on his cameras, he spotted you using your phone and was confused on why he couldn’t easily hack into it. He couldn’t get into it. What the fuck?

𓈒ㅤׂㅤ𐙚 ࣪ ⭒ It wasn’t until he spotted you again some time later in some tech store looking at some phone cases. He watched as you pealed your old phone case off, revealing a phone that was not a VoxTek phone.

𓈒ㅤׂㅤ𐙚 ࣪ ⭒ No; it was a rival companies. Not quite as rich and empowering as VoxTek, but still a rival company nonetheless.

𓈒ㅤׂㅤ𐙚 ࣪ ⭒ He hates that company.

𓈒ㅤׂㅤ𐙚 ࣪ ⭒ They even started out doing some of his own sales just days after release.

𓈒ㅤׂㅤ𐙚 ࣪ ⭒ Well that’s just great. But not a total loss. Perhaps he could get his advertisement team to push for more advertisements on well, anything and everything.

𓈒ㅤׂㅤ𐙚 ࣪ ⭒ Over the next several days he tried that before realizing he has no way to check if it’s you know, reaching you

𓈒ㅤׂㅤ𐙚 ࣪ ⭒ Why? Because you don’t even have a TV in your place! Which he found through following you on his cameras around Pride

𓈒ㅤׂㅤ𐙚 ࣪ ⭒ “What person in todays world doesn’t have a television?” He grits through his teeth, starring at your door through a security camera

𓈒ㅤׂㅤ𐙚 ࣪ ⭒ Well you apparently and he found out through an online web forum or comment section, whatever suits your fancy, you used one night

𓈒ㅤׂㅤ𐙚 ࣪ ⭒ “I don’t really have a use for a tv” something along those lines

𓈒ㅤׂㅤ𐙚 ࣪ ⭒ Through some more stalking and hacking he was finally able to get somewhere. Not through any appliance unfortunately, but you had fortunately downloaded a thing which had a VoxTek bug attached to it. Success!!

𓈒ㅤׂㅤ𐙚 ࣪ ⭒ He was able to hack the phone, not to its fullest potential but still enough for now, and would have it on one of his monitors constantly. It’s here where he learned through your screen time in your phone settings that you hardly use the thing

𓈒ㅤׂㅤ𐙚 ࣪ ⭒ Occasionally he sees you’re active using it however, to which he’s quick to drop whatever it is he’s doing to you know, watch you do whatever it is you’re doing on your phone. It’s mildly annoying to those around him

𓈒ㅤׂㅤ𐙚 ࣪ ⭒ But he can’t help it! Who do you text? Do you have a partner? Are you on dating apps? Do you watch porn and if so, which kind do you like?

𓈒ㅤׂㅤ𐙚 ࣪ ⭒ He doesn’t really learn much, or as much and the specifics he’d like, but it’s something. Ah so this is the music you like to listen to whenever the radio isn’t playing it, huh? You have a few pictures… several notes in your notes app… some app to text only a small handful of people on occasion. He wonders if suddenly following you on the app would be too much.

𓈒ㅤׂㅤ𐙚 ࣪ ⭒ I mean, your account isn’t exactly anything special to the public eye per say. And even if it was, you certainly weren’t on it or gave much of a crap on it. So Vox’s suddenly millions and millions of followers on his account would probably raise some questions from you. But that would be good right? Maybe you’d shoot him a message asking why he followed you, and your relationship starts there! You can officially meet for the first time! Okay it would be through text but it still counts!

𓈒ㅤׂㅤ𐙚 ࣪ ⭒ For this headcanons post, I’m keeping in mind that the reader is before the 2000’s time. So anywhere between the near start of hell to the 90’s lol

𓈒ㅤׂㅤ𐙚 ࣪ ⭒ Which if Vox found this out, he’d be a little confused. He died or relatively came around the 1950’s, he knew people from the 1930’/, who still use todays technology. Are you this much of an old soul to really not use anything like todays tech to your daily entertainment? And no—using the alarm doesn’t count!! He can’t even see you so…

𓈒ㅤׂㅤ𐙚 ࣪ ⭒ You know how I said you avoid VoxTek appliances? Wanna know why?

𓈒ㅤׂㅤ𐙚 ࣪ ⭒ “FUCKING ALASTOR!”

𓈒ㅤׂㅤ𐙚 ࣪ ⭒ Vox glitches out in a rage when on his cameras, he saw you sitting around a table with Rosie and Alastor.

𓈒ㅤׂㅤ𐙚 ࣪ ⭒ “Oh and I guess—FUCKING ROSIE—!” Hey he’s an inclusive guy.

𓈒ㅤׂㅤ𐙚 ࣪ ⭒ Oh ho! So you’re acquainted with those two? The old fucks that even Zestial seems more youthful compared to at times. Vox curses out the two overlords further. Your acquaintances now making sense why you don’t use technology and specifically avoid Vox’s. Yeah. They’re definitely intentionally leading you away from anything VoxTek. And you seemed to have no issue with that? Wtf!?

𓈒ㅤׂㅤ𐙚 ࣪ ⭒ “(Y/n) dear, I heard rumours that you were seeking a new place to call home. Might I ask how that’s going?” Alastor glitches out his cameras but it was doing for now, Vox grumbled.

𓈒ㅤׂㅤ𐙚 ࣪ ⭒ So you’re moving huh? Oh well. Vox isn’t particularly worried. He’s got cameras all over Pride. He’d be able to find your new home quickly and who knows, maybe it’ll be more convenient to stalk you then!

𓈒ㅤׂㅤ𐙚 ࣪ ⭒ “Oh yes, Alastor! Rosie has been such a peach in helping me find a suitable place for me to move into. Why I’m quite proud to announce that I am now a home owner! No more little apartments for me.” You’d share a little snack with Rosie. That snack catering to your taste or hers is up to you.

𓈒ㅤׂㅤ𐙚 ࣪ ⭒ Ah… a house. Okay apartment builders are required to have security cameras in their general areas and hallways so a house and if you’d even put up security cameras might cause some issue but still. Their would be cameras around your neighborhood or whatever, right? And you’d still have your phone on you so at least theirs still that for Vox to keep an eye on you—

𓈒ㅤׂㅤ𐙚 ࣪ ⭒ “Darling, I’m so glad you finally decided to move into Cannibal Town!” Vox froze at Rosie’s words.

𓈒ㅤׂㅤ𐙚 ࣪ ⭒ Cannibal Town? Fucking Cannibal Town?? Old 1920’s town with carcasses to feed off of at nearly every corner? Really?

𓈒ㅤׂㅤ𐙚 ࣪ ⭒ Vox barley has cameras in Cannibal Town! He has a few, hence why he can stalk your lunch session right now with Rosie and Alastor, but it’s one of the very few cameras he has up here. What was wrong with your old place?! Vox screams and you just so happen to conveniently answer—ah how nice.

𓈒ㅤׂㅤ𐙚 ࣪ ⭒ “My current apartment is less than desirable for my tastes. Too much loud obnoxious music, distasteful lyrics, horrendous billboards, flashing lights and way too much modern technology. Call me old but that Vee stuff really gives me a headache.”

𓈒ㅤׂㅤ𐙚 ࣪ ⭒ Vox swears that shit eating grin Alastor threw at seemingly nothing was thrown specifically at Vox in that moment.

𓈒ㅤׂㅤ𐙚 ࣪ ⭒ Vox needs to meet you soon. Surely you’d fall in love with him. He was waiting for the perfect opportunity but you seem to just be getting further away the more he waits.

𓈒ㅤׂㅤ𐙚 ࣪ ⭒ Just please don’t toss out your phone. That’s like the one modern thing you have. It’s all he has.

Guess who’s sleep schedule is (kind of) fixed and can actually start posting requests and general reader stuff on a moderately decent schedule?? Meeee

I got so much requests to work on (I encourage more to be sent though please I like having these things to work on) and I’m very excited to post more lol

[thepotentialof2007]

Quick reference for the LH excerpts from Kate Wagner's behind the scenes at COTA article.

All sports are powered by the personalities of their practitioners, and Formula 1 has those in spades—the chipper, effusive Daniel Ricciardo; Mr. Suave, Carlos Sainz; plucky George Russell; the deep-feeling Charles Leclerc; and, perhaps above all, the sport's longtime great champion, a man from some of the humblest beginnings in motorsport, the regal and soft-spoken Lewis Hamilton, who just announced an absolutely shocking move to Ferrari after an illustrious 11 years and six championships behind the wheel of a Mercedes (and six seasons and one championship with Mercedes-powered McLarens).

. . . .

The day's activities commenced with a tour of the garage. In the garage, there are many mysteries one is not allowed to know or see. The use of phones is forbidden lest one incur accusations of espionage. When we got into the garage, Lewis's car was naked, its insides visible for all to see. I think this was the moment where my respect for the sport as it exists really made itself clear. It is hard to describe what I felt looking at that car. The closest phrase I have at my disposal is the technological sublime. I pictured a living, breathing animal of extraterrestrial origin, hooked up to a thousand arcane sensors that delivered messages in little pulses. All the tubes and sculpted carbon-fiber parts and the endless net of wires all working in service to the godhead engine, formed something totally incomprehensible to me, a feat of engineering so vast it breached the realm of magic. Hamilton himself walked through in his helmet, unexpectedly on an errand. After being in the presence of the car, I perceived him differently than before, when he was just a guy driving in circles on TV. The scope of his capabilities became more directly known to me in the face of that which I believed to be unknowable. All of that was built in service of him. He stopped and looked into the open maw of the car. The tour guide led us hurriedly into the back room where the coffee and tire bags were stored so that no one could listen to what Lewis said.

About half an hour later, they brought him up to the paddock to talk to us. It wasn't a press conference, but rather a kind of a TED Talk. The questions were rote and a guy with a microphone asked them as though they were being broadcast on television. Hamilton talked rotely about how much he loved America and the fans here, talked—to the people who needed reassurance—about how the car was "getting there" but made it pointedly certain that they knew it still needed some work, which surprised me, making me realize this was still a private setting. I come from a sport where chivalry never died and no one is allowed to say anything negative because it is "unsportsmanlike" and every cyclist has to play his part in the farcical pageant of being a dull, humble farmer's son. It is a pretty open secret that a lot of cyclists don't like their bike sponsors but they would never, ever, ever say it. It's somewhat contradictory, but the sheer financial calculus of F1 is what makes it possible for Hamilton to be critical. This is a multibillion-dollar industry putting its full heft behind him doing well. It's reminiscent of the patronage system of precapitalist times, when rulers and nobles with endless riches paid musicians and composers to live in the palace with them.

. . . .

Frustrated, I returned to watching the cars as they started up again, knowing that the drivers were pushing them to their limits, engrossed in their personal kaleidoscope of motion and color. Hamilton was in one of them. In the last shootout, he drove differently than before. A great verve frayed the lines he was making, something we can only call effort, push. Watching him, I understood what was so interesting about this sport, even though I was watching it in its most bare-bones form—cars going around in circles. The driver is the apotheosis of quick-moving prowess, total focus and control. The car is both the most studied piece of human engineering, tuned and devised in lab-like environments and at the same time a variable entity, something that must be wrestled with and pushed. The numbers are crunched, the forms wind-tunneled. And yet some spirit escapes their control, and that spirit is known only by the driver. Yes, we watch this perfect blend of man and machine, but we speak of the machine as though it were not of human origin, as though the machine, being born from science could—eventually, through its iterative processes—sublimate human flaws. The driver, being human, knows this is false. His intimacy with the machine is the necessary missing connection, and even if the machine were perfect, it was made for imperfect hands. But it is never perfect. The gaps in its perfection are where disasters transpire, but also miracles. As we waited for the van to take us where we were parked, a part of the track was still visible to us. Hamilton distinguished himself by the lines he cut along the corner and the loudness of his engine, that pushing. We heard over a loudspeaker that he had finished third, a remarkable improvement above the last two sprints, where he lagged behind in the midfield. This made everyone in our camp happy. They always called him by his first name. It reminded me of how I used to talk about cyclists after I started interviewing them, with the swagger of knowing them.

. . . .

When Hamilton came into the room he was wearing a cool pair of pants with shimmery colored mesh sewed in and had an exhausted appearance, having come just from the track. We were allowed to talk to him but were told not to make any recordings or transcriptions. When he spoke, it was notable how often he mentioned his father and how deeply-felt his political convictions were. Some people are totally different off the record, but Lewis was simply a more lively version of himself. I find him a fascinating figure. A lot of fans either love or hate him, see him, paradoxically, as both humble and arrogant. The word quiet is better. Not reserved, not shy, just quiet. He belongs to a special group of people. The ones I've met in life include the violinist Hilary Hahn and Pogačar, the Tour de France winner—human beings who walk the earth differently, with an aura that transcends it. He appeared perpetually relaxed, controlled and refined, both present with us in the room but on a higher plane within. We used to call this magnificence when we believed in kings. I don't know what we call it now. Excellence, maybe. The irony of parading someone incredible like that around in the backrooms of petrochemical executives is not lost on me. I was grateful that I got the opportunity to speak to Lewis Hamilton, someone I am not ashamed to say I admire. I would have preferred it if they let him go home and rest instead.

[kholnt]

Welcome to the fandom! I'm very curious to see what type of lu fan you are, as it's always great to see the diversity of people that enjoy any given thing.

I saw you're a fan of Wild, and you've read some fics and such, are there any that you'd recommend to someone that wants to get to know a bit more of his character? I'm biased to Legend, as he's easier for me to draw, but I've been wanting to dive deeper into the personalities of the others in the chain, particularly Wild, as he's set up for a lot of character growth in the og comic.

And as an offering, here's a sleepy Wild and a happy doggo! (My pen died while I was drawing, and it's not clear, but he's holding a pillow)

WAHHH SILLY GUY!!! I LOVE!! HEEMS SO!! as for me, (in general when it comes to fandoms) i tend to post art and that's usually what i do publicly. or respond to stuff that i'm sent by friends. in REALITY however i am very much a brainstormer. the amt of ideas rattling in my head at any given time is CRAZY. i dont tend to post my in depth ideas because like. its too hard to explain man. me n @/eponatheestallion have made an entire au with arcs n character development in the past two days bc i asked a silly question idk if thats the kind of answer you wanted but yk !! as for fics!! gods ive read like. ~300 fics in the past *checks watch* 17 days (holy shit i have a problem what the fuck) so lets see what i can recommend specifically bc you bet i dont remember allat!! spider meet fly/fly meet spider - totk swap au from wilds perspective!! (not lu but still really good :)) ) the worldbuilding is,,, mwah things that go unnoticed about hyrule - this entire series of oneshots eats but this one is probably my favorite. hyrule & wild bonding but in the You Get It way

it's me wild! find me in the future! - wild stays for totk and the chain goes through the stages of grief live. i just??? enjoy the characterization for this???? everything that didn’t kill me - basically a 50 things that wild told the chain how he got his scars. this one is here for the whimsy. while reading i literally went "I GET IT. I UNDERSTAND" bc of some of the things listed also happened to me while playing botw. this one isnt serious in the slightest only the wild ones - the chain meet wild at various stages in his life. big brother twilight baybeeee mixing our history into our batter - aurora and wild bake together. this one just made me happy dude idk its just full of whimsy and silliness from castle town to ordon - wild is socially anxious, rich, and a menace, more at eleven i'm a riddle in nine syllables - the chain are ghosts that help wild on his adventure. i read this one real recently and i!!!! yk?

im sure theres more but like. this is me quickly(ish) scrolling through my history and pointing out the ones i distinctly remember enjoying and arent the other two fics i already reccomended

[littlecelestialmoth]

For Whom the Clock Bells Toll

CHAPTER FIVE: FIRST MIX

Eddie flops back onto his bed, barely bothering to kick off his Reeboks before combing his hands through his frizzy bangs.

Long days at school always make him feel like his brain was going to spring a leak and drain his mind of consciousness forever. Was that a dramatic line of thought? Yes. Was Eddie known for being dramatic? Also yes.

He resolves to think about his music to-do list after he’s had some time to recover. He has a mixtape to make for Steven Goddamn Harrington after all. 

Eddie knows the guy has fallen off the social ladder, Dustin’s nerdy hero worship proving the point further. He’d still love to know how Hawkins High's ‘Keg King’ became a real life Paladin, but it’s one of the only things Dustin refrains from elaborating on. Which, for Dustin, is a huge effort. It’ll be nice to hang out with someone his own age and someone who apparently understands the sass and snark of one Dustin Henderson.

He makes his way under white windowpane patterned and stained comforter, all the spare blankets piled on for maximum weight and comfort. The silence feels like a sweet relief after the noise and chaos of highschool halls. 

Yeah, he knows it’s ironic. Eddie Munson loves noise and chaos and writing music and campaign plots in the dozens of notebooks he’s collected over the years! Well, the truth is Eddie Munson also needs quiet and solitude and stability in a situation. Contradictory little Eddie Munson can’t make his brain crank out an English paper until the night before it’s due when the library is hours past closing on top of all of that. Planning out his next great twist in the Hellfire campaign or jotting down new bars for the song he’s working on has always felt easier and more desirable than struggling through a History assignment that requires date memorization. How is he meant to remember when some rich racist asshat died when he can barely keep track of what day of the week it presently is. Mr Andrews is never amused when he gives that explanation for his centuries-off citations.

It's like Eddie the ‘Freak’ is a whole other character sheet with disadvantage on every stat. 

Not knowing what will happen and not having control makes him anxious. It makes him seem larger than life when he takes control, always the ring leader, the dungeon master, the man with the cards in his hand, black mail and leverage that makes him almost untouchable.

That’s what scares him about letting Steve peel that back, even just a little. It makes him feel like a drugstore label, <em>peel to read more</em>. An invitation to take a peek at all the wires and pipes behind the big red curtain and find out what makes Eddie Munson a person.

He’s getting ahead of himself, he always manages to stumble over his own feet, too quick when it comes to someone that has the potential to be the object of his affection. Granted he has to get to know the guy first to catch real feelings, but a small something still presses out from within his ribcage. The excitement of it is what’s alluring to him right now. That maybe Steve Harrington is a good person. And maybe he’ll see Eddie as a good person too.

Eddie shoves off his comforter, pushing it to the end of his bed. He’s done daydreaming and has enough energy to be engaged in the task of compiling music.

He wants to very gently introduce Steve to the world of metal and begrudgingly hard rock. It’s not the best in his books but understanding the roots of metal and how it all ties into each other is just as important. He’s a musician, he knows how to pick out the bits that developed into what he loves and has an ear for skill outside of metal too. He resolves that Steve’s music re-education should start in its true and deep roots: the Blues.

He reaches for his boxes of cassettes, pulling out the oldest one first. In his own way Eddie had been led down the Metal to Blues pipeline, only having Tapes and Records that Wayne owned originally. It had taken him a while to understand what music he liked, slow progress from up-beat Blues to Blues Rock to Metal Rock to Heavy Metal. 

It was one of the earliest things little Eddie could be convinced to do with Wayne. Being twelve, Wayne thought he was old enough to develop interest in things but hadn’t yet and therefore he tried to make small efforts to include Eddie in the few things he enjoyed. They would sit on the couch in the evenings, back when Wayne worked early but not night shift early in an effort to be home to make Eddie dinner, and Wayne would put on a tape.

Eddie now was sprawled out on the floor, a smaller notebook open. A messy list of songs was jotted down in it, some scratched out, their replacements crammed in the space between. He made himself pack up and put away the tapes he wasn’t using so he could focus on the carefully refined list. One of his favorites from the selection, <em>Smokestack Lightnin’</em>, howling in the background.

Thank god Eddie had already copied all his and Wayne’s Vinyls onto Cassettes, it was making his life much easier. It was easier to skip around on a Cassette than a Vinyl. Saving up for the slightly more expensive sound system was worth it, mostly for making Corroded Coffin tapes with overlapping tracks.

Hours later after scouring every single tape and record between him and Wayne combined he has compiled a list and recorded it on a Cassette. It’s in order of chronological release that shows the timeline of Blue to Rock to Metal without it being too lengthy. He puts the finishing touches on the Cassette itself, carefully pening the tracklist down on the insertable card and titling the mix: <em>’Eddie Munson’s Music Re-Education’.</em> A self satisfied grin breaks out on his face, sharpie lid between his teeth as he holds the tape up, giving it a last once over.

Only one last test to pass: Steve.

READ THE REST ON AO3

Header by steddiecameraroll-graphics

[boy-above]

some lore for minette and mikhail:

mikhail is the last of his species, the others having been wiped out just under ten thousand years ago. most of them were killed in war while the remaining few were exiled to the tundra where they were expected to die. mikhail, a normal solider at that time, watched as his remaining comrades started freezing to death, and for reasons unknown he was able to summon a great strength. he ascended to godhood right there, and gained what came to be known as the great flame pelt. the heat he produced saved the remaining few people there, and without anywhere else to go they established a tiny village in the middle of the tundra, made only possible by mikhail's heat. exiling people to the tundra was common practice in the other kingdoms, so whenever exiles were found alive they would be welcomed to the village. it grew over the centuries, with mikhail being declared their king and god. eventually the last few members of his species died of old age, leading the now immortal mikhail alone as the only survivor.

minette's country is a very rich and corrupt place. it's situated on a very thin but tall mountain with infrastructure built into the sides. it's almost entirely inaccessible if you can't fly, as minette's species are all winged. if you're disabled and cannot fly, you're treated as a lesser being. in fact, anything deemed as an "imperfection" is punished in this society. you strive to be a perfect person and if you can't meet their standards you'll live a life of ostracization. the lowest class lives the closest to the ground, and the people get wealthier and more influential the higher you are on the mountain. the royal palace is of course at the very top, closest to the mother sun. they worship the sun here, which never sets. their species has a special connection with the sun, it gives them their power and life. if a member of the species were ever to have their connection to the sun severed, they would die within hours.

this was what happened to minette. she was born flightless, and that was a source of shame and embarrassment for her parents. they hid her from the public and stewed on what to do. minette was the crown princess, meaning she alone had inherited ability to weld the divine power her mother, her queen, used. her parents decided that the only solution would be to rip the power from minette and give it to her sibling instead. this is a process they thought would kill her, but as it was an unprecedented circumstance they didn't expect the outcome. minette lived, as an immortal godling she could not be killed despite having her power taken and connection to the sun severed.

this was a devastating event for minette, a being who depends on the sun suddenly not feeling its warmth for the first time, and knowing you never would again. it was like in an instant her life wasn't worth living anymore. despite the shock and pain she felt, she knew she had to run before her parents could finish the job. she was terrified that they would take her wings, as it's common practice for ones wings to be removed when they're exiled from the country. minette ran, and did not stop running. she traveled through several different kingdoms with one man in mind. she'd heard from parents and other royals about king maksimillian, a wolf god whose pelt rivaled the sun. being without the sun doesn't just make her cold, it results in a chronic pain that can't be managed or shaken. some days it's a dull ache while on others it can be excruciating, on top of having fatigue and general weakness. minette hoped that it was true that his pelt really did feel like the sun, because maybe she could not be in pain anymore.

eventually she made it to the tundra. as a nonhuman being the cold doesn't actually harm her, it's not exactly comfortable but she was of no danger of freezing to death. she ventured through until she found the village, now a proper (albeit small) kingdom. after finally managing to get close to the king, she discovered that yes, he truly did feel like the sun. she was afraid at first for anyone to find out her true identity. her country and its neighbors had after all had a large part in the killing of his people. minette was born long after this happened, currently she's only 500 years old. still, a royal daring to step foot in his kingdom could be a great disrespect. it took a while but once minette told mikhail of her true identity, and that his presence alleviates her of her pain, he immediately welcomed her into the palace.

mikhail can be quite prickly and stone faced, and many find him to be intimidating and even scary. but he treated minette so well and was truly the kindest man she'd ever met. because of her need of his heat, she would spend a lot of time with him. at first her bed was in the room next to his, eventually it moved in his room next to his own, and eventually they shared a bed. she'd lay on his stomach as he was afraid he'd squish her otherwise, their size difference is quite large. they grew very close over time, and minette trusted him more than any other. sometimes minette needed his heat while she bathed, so he would sit behind a screen as to protect her decency. eventually she started trying to coax him into doing away with the screen, there's nothing she wouldn't want him to see, she says. one day though she realizes her arms are too weak to wash her hair , and she meekly asks if he can help her. eventually washing her hair becomes a daily activity and he becomes less shy around her. one day minette gets very brave and asks if they can bathe together, and mikhail reluctantly agrees. mikhail's tub is very large and minette finds that the water nearly goes over her head, so she finds that sitting on his knee is much preferable, and that's their routine from then on. becoming much less shy and hesitant around each other.

eventually minette does confess her feelings for the king, and he's hesitant at first. he doesn't want to accidentally take advantage of her, being afraid that she feels obligated because he provides her with heat; or that she simply thought she liked him because he was the only man she trusted, and perhaps if she got out more she'd discover there are men she likes much more. eventually minette managed to convince him of her feelings after much persistence. mikhail finally accepted her feelings and obviously he felt the same, just very afraid of hurting her somehow. the two were eventually married and the kingdom readily accepted minette as their first queen. mikhail had never loved before in his thousand years, so everyone knew minette must truly be something special.

minette is infertile, she discovers. she doesn't know if she was born that way, or if was another unfortunate side effect of being taken from the mother sun. all she knows is that her fertility problems make her incredibly sad. mikhail says that it's just fine if they don't have children, it's not mandatory to have an heir or anything or the sort. but minette wants a child and mikhail strives to give minette anything she wants, so they spend centuries trying every single fertility spell, potion, blessing, concoction, whatever, to try to have a baby. adoption is of course an option, but minett really wants mikhail's baby. she wants to hold a child that looks like mikhail, him being the last of his species makes this especially important to her. after centuries of trying they finally manage to conceive, and after months of telling herself not to get too attached because she's so afraid of miscarrying, minette has a beautiful, healthy, baby girl. she had milhail's ears and claws and teeth, all things minette absolutely loved about her husband. the entire kingdom celebrated their new little princess and knew that this baby was so so incredibly important to their gods, their faith in which could never be shaken.

minette lived the first few years of her life in sadness and pain, thinking she could be happy, but her life in the tundra saved her from it all. she started life as a princess denied her throne, and now sat in a tiny throne next to her husband, a very, very, happy queen.

[saburaii]

              サブ — the living dead, 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐚 𝐜𝐨𝐫𝐩𝐬𝐞 - 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐟𝐥𝐞𝐬𝐡.

                                     can't you see that i'm busy .

                                        — 𝐈𝐍𝐅𝐎𝐑𝐌𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍.

                                        english - speaker, 21+.

                                   high - activity & high - muse.

TRIGGER WARNING: nsfw & violence; blood will be present.

SABU IS SHIPPED WITH MIEKO @tsunoii.

𝐀𝐁𝐎𝐔𝐓 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐌𝐔𝐒𝐄.

✞ ( FULL NAME ) - saburai ito. ✞ ( NICKNAME ) - sabu. ✞ ( AGE ) - 18 - 43 ( verse dependent ). ✞ ( SPECIES ) - human. ✞ ( GENDER ) - cis-male. ✞ ( BIRTHDAY ) - october 13th. ✞ ( OCCUPATION ) - yakuza heir.

✞ ( HAIR ) - deep, crimson red - dyed, spikey & longer on the top, short on the sides mohawk. REF. ✞ ( EYES ) - golden - brown. ✞ ( HEIGHT ) - 6'6". ✞ ( OTHER ) - full body yakuza - style tattoos, lion - themed. including the back of his neck, down the knuckles, ankles and all else. multiple ear piercings, gauges on the lobes. three jacob’s ladder piercings. severe facial wound, ripped from the lip to the top of his jaw on the right side, will only keep uncovered around people who he trusts. otherwise, covered with a face - mask, or a bandana - depending on the day.

raised from birth in a family of yakuza, sabu is considered a yakuza prince. he has no real want the lead the group that he was born into, despite having all the rights to its assets. prefers to be a silent leader, rather than an up - lifting, present one. very off - putting to those who talk to him. not apt to give away personal information, he holds the rights to all of the riches his family passed off to him. will only give his name as SABU .

early life, high - school.

in youth, sabu was less of a quiet, level - headed person. filled with lots of rage towards his family, especially his father for the way he was raised; constantly thrown into ever - growing dangerous situations. as the second - oldest son in the family, he held little worth in their eyes, lacking the potential to become the next head of their family business. being tossed into underground fighting rings, learning to fight for himself at a young age - his anger was constant. lashing out in different ways, whether it was wreaking havoc on the maids or picking pointless fights at school. he acquired a love for all things violence - filled, horror movies, rock music, degrading pornographic imagery - occult paraphernalia.

when he was nineteen, his face injury occurred - the product of an illegal underground fight; where his opponent used his teeth to rip the skin from sabu’s face. tearing on the right side, from the top of his jawline to the chin, ripping half the lip. the worst pain that he had ever felt in his entire life. with a family that did not believe heavily in the support of doctors or hospitals, he was left to at home remedies, with little care from his parents if he lived or died. relying on heavy pain - killers & incredibly painful methods to ensure that it scarred up enough to keep from infecting.

soon after his facial injury, he became reliant on the painkillers - taking them more often than he didn’t; mellowing out his personality a great deal. a relief to anyone that had to withstand him working at his parent’s mansion.

the death of his older brother became the conspiracy that had many thinking of him as a monster. convinced that he would kill his own sibling to solidify his place as the heir to the family business, giving him all of the rights to the family fortune. the truth behind his brother’s murder remains a mystery, and he refuses to say a word on it; his younger sister taking the side of believing that he had a hand in it, but he remains apathetic.

present.

after many years, sabu still retains his favored gothic aesthetic; considered to be quite extra about it. his home is decorated in blacks & reds; his two favorite colors. most of his business remains a mystery to those who are not involved - only keeping few close acquaintances.

his only real close friend is a single right - hand man, with a child who he quite openly treats as a niece. estranged from his own family, the yakuza that he maintains is closer to a family than his true blood to him; not that he openly admits to such.

at forty - three, he no longer possesses the same aggressive personality that he once had. becoming someone a lot more cold & calculating over the years; be - fitting of a leader

[controversial-blorbo-bracket]

Too many Binghe haters jumping into the askbox so I'm here to represent Binghe lovers.

Luo Binghe is a fun, interesting character who suffers a lot from shallow readings. Which is ironic considering the main source of tension in his relationship with Shen Qingqiu, the MC - who is originally a reader of the novel in which Luo Binghe is the protagonist - is that Shen Qingqiu keeps reading him shallowly / expecting him to act according to some or other character archetype, and thus misses that Binghe is a complex person with his own rich inner world. Basically it's meta-commentary on how readers do a disservice to characters by oversimplifying them to just a few traits and/or their role in the story (SVSSS in general is super meta) but unfortunately not a few ppl read the novel and fell into those same trappings ^^"

It also doesn't help that Shen Qingqiu is an unreliable af narrator, which leads to some people insisting that Luo Binghe forced him into a relationship or is manipulating him or w/e... This is about a guy who waxes poetics about Luo Binghe's unparalleled beauty every time he lays eyes on him. Like cmon, he just has a lot of internalized homophobia and shame to work through, give him a break!! And the so-called 'manipulation' is half the time Luo Binghe looking vaguely disappointed and Shen Qingqiu going "wow! I cannot believe the most beautiful man in the world whom i love so much that i died for him twice and whom im dating is making me have sex with him! Luo Binghe sure is a master of emotional manipulation!" and other half the time Luo Binghe super obviously whining for attention which - canonically, its in the text - makes it easier for Shen Qingqiu to be honest with him.

But enough salt; reasons why Binghe is a top blorbo go:

The narrative (which btw is a real force in this world) is trying to make him into an iron-fist Ruler Of Everything but his greatest aspiration in life is to be a househusband.

Was supposed to be a protagonist of an uber-straight harem novel but threw heterosexuality out the window within 3 interactions with MC. 

His love language is cooking! It's adorable but it'll also hurt u. (Binghe kept making three meals a day for Shen Qingqiu during the five years the latter was dead :) )

A big part of his arc is about learning to be vulnerable and show his sensitive side. (In general, one of the novel's major themes is toxic masculinity and how it harms ppl; I just particularly like how its explored with Binghe.)

A Good Boy (has been going through a corruption arc for 2/3rds of the novel yet it still took a cursed sword controlling his mind for him to start acting like the OG) 

Lotsa delicious fridge horror around him being the narrative's favorite chew toy. Things only ever get worse for him and reality will warp itself to deny him a chance to heal while the story is in progress, because he has a Role and that role is ‘a villainous protagonist’.

But also u get to cry about how he was saved in the end by the power of just one reader loving him and wanting better for him. (SVSSS is also a love letter to fandom/fanworks okay :] ) 

Very powerful but also a nervous wreck. Tripped and fell flat on his face when proposing to his boyfriend.

Just in general him being clingy and whiny and a mess is mega cute (me 🤝 Shen Qingqiu) 

This makes for a great contrast with him being a super OP nigh-unkillable demon lord btw. He could drown the world in blood but he's too busy crying Ghibli tears in his man’s lap. 

Also I need to mention he's extremely funny about being nigh-unkillable too. Like, *gets injured* Shen Qingqiu: "We can have sex once u r better 😔" Luo Binghe: *popping broken limbs back into place*: "I'm better! :D" 

Has a praise kink AND a masochistic streak. Apparently when Shen Qingqiu praises him and pats his head it's exciting, but when Shen Qingqiu scolds him and hits him that's also exciting. 

Has the peak character design detail in the form of a demon mark on his forehead. Built-in kissies target 🥰 Also when fanartists draw it in different shapes to represent his mood? Absolutely delightful 100/10 no notes <3

Why do I feel like this man has Kenergy

[mushroom-for-art]

Me @ Paradox au: you're as beautiful as the day I lost u

Person in charge of updating this fucking sucks ur schedules shit smh

King/Syn beloved belongs to @seasidemew

Sink or swim

"Our previous theories on the exact genders of the Genetic Terror has proved incorrect."

Leader is shown finding a quiet protected area the bushes shrubbery and tree branches making a perfect nest like area for her to squeeze and shuffle through past the leaves, she is shown leaving and returning with furs carefully crawling under the branches to not disturb or reveal her hidden area.

"In order to observe further we need more specialised equipment."

People talk inaudibly in the background as the cameraman shows off what looks like an ordinary leaf but is in fact a highly sophisticated type of camera powered by solar with little legs like a bug for movement. The view from the multiple leafcam is slightly green tinted, a little non invasive toy car like rover scoots revving softly near the nest and deposits the box with the leafbots in who disperse quickly subtly into place.

Leader is shown chasing the little toy car and knocking it over watching it spin in circles stuck on its side before it 'dies', she loses interest returning to her nest, inside viewed by multiple leafbot the leaves and foliage are spread and flattened intentionally as she builds up the other materials feathers from Great Tusk, Scream Tail fur, Slither wing fluff and wings any soft body part she wants and can fit into the nest.

The nest is completed during a time lapse of her nest building and half a day later she lays three small eggs, they are lumpy and slightly misshapen but she seems delighted her body resting protective over them like a brooding hen she incubates what is hers. During a time of her absence Dart enters the nest slowly looking around sniffing materials.

"We feared Dart would devour the eggs of the male he'd been trying to chase off," Dart lowers themselves and produces an egg of their own larger and more solid and smooth into the middle of the nest before leaving, "we were wrong."

Leader returns and pauses her head lowering as she nuzzles each egg faintly as though counting them pausing at the large healthy egg in the center of her misshapen ones she moves and returns to her brooding accepting the foreign egg as her own.

"If Leader knows this is Darts egg we aren't sure we can only assume she believes it her own egg or knows of its origins. The difference in egg shape size and overall visual health has led us to believe Leaders eggs may non be viable."

A timelapse shows Leader guarding her nest leaving occasionally to hunt but noticeably losing weight and leaving less and less frequently. There is also footage of Dart and Glider struggling to hunt as a duo without Leader to guide them and King searching around looking noticeably lost his snout to the ground sniffing deep inhales trying to get a scent before snorting in frustration and walking off heavily.

Finally, there is movement from one of the eggs, they wobble and flop to the side as Leader watches them intensely, the little leg that kicks out is dark red with dark grey striping, when they finally destroy their way out their egg it is clear they are not Leaders, a miniature adult genetic terror, proud horns and midhorn with a subtle bump implying a double point like King, their colors were deep and rich Darts red orange hues darkened further like dark jewels grey emphasising and contrasting.

Leader watches the little hatchling bounce around making infant screeches and chirps before scooping them close to her body nuzzling and grooming them.

"Her eggs haven't hatched," they've shrunken and even caved in on themselves, "Leader could carry a genetic defect, or it was an unlucky draw." She is witnessed removing the eggs one at a time from the nest throwing them to be scavenged elsewhere before bringing a small Roaring Moon limp in her jaw to give the hatchling their first meal.

She demonstrates biting the carcass and ripping away the flesh offering it to the chick dangling between her teeth, she feeds them tenderly and often but keeps them hidden in the nest.

"We don't know how long hatchling stay in the nest with their mothers, or if this is purely a behaviour displayed by Leader, and unfortunately this time we won't get answers."

Leader leaves the nest to go hunting, she's still underweight from everything as she goes to hunt, the hatchling is seen playing with and chasing a feather that's floating about the nest making little bark like noises vocalisations of play displaying what could be a play bow before diving after the feather.

Unfamiliar jaws lean into the nest, the hatchling pauses watching the unfamiliar mouth, cold and unfeeling they snap around the youngling. With a squeal the invader makes off with its prey from the unwatched nest. Leader is viewed botching her hunt before bolting back to her nest she vocalises squeaks and cries in her throat in sheer desperation sniffing around and whimpering at a trickle of blood. She looks lost without her hatchling.

"Leader hasn't left her nest since the incident, her pack members have been struggling and King seems unaware of the tragedy that has occurred."

The camera shows the start of a forest fire beginning to crackle and burn loudly.

"If Leader can't find the strength to flee the fire will surely kill her."

Multiple pokemon run and flee bellowing in natural fear of the fire ravaging their home, instincts drive them purely to survive, the leafbots are forced to flee with what battery they have left. It looks bleak, Dart and Glider stand at the forests edge crying and bellowing out throaty summoning calls echo into the darkening sky.

"But like a phoenix she is reborn from the ashes of despair!"

A camera catches glimpse of orange hues bolting through the forest, underweight and disorientated the Genetic Terror runs dodging and weaving around the flames and burning foliage around her course correcting as the flames race her dropping burning trees and setting shrubs alight. Her panic evident in her cries and roars. Leaping from the burning forest she crashes into the grassland outside quickly reached and greeted by her siblings, chirps and nuzzles reassure their bonds before they take one last glance at the flames disappearing into the thickening ash and smoke ridden land.

King bellows at the flames enraged by their insult as nature takes its course ravaging the land to regrow it, he storms off with heavy stomps to find a new area to sleep.

———

"It's been months since the fire, Leaders condition has not improved, while the fire forced her to move from her nest her appetite has not bounced back."

Dart and Glider gorge themselves on fat Slither Wing their wings ripped off to prevent mobility and escape as they excitedly chitter at the flesh they're enjoying. Leader lay nearby on her side, she's thin and looks exhausted breathing heavily for such an easy hunt the strain of hunger causing issue with her body and yet she won't eat feeling no hunger.

The other two have long since fallen asleep assuming their sibling will eat now they're asleep, she lay uninterested but awake head lifting slowly sensing the slowly approaching King. Her head lowers either in submission or being too exhausted. King stands and looks over her slowly he moves digging into the carcasses of the Slither Wing himself devouring large mouthfuls.

He pulls away flesh hanging in his teeth and comes to Leaders side leaning down and using his arms as support he holds the food out to her, he nudges his face to hers until she acknowledges him opening her mouth slowly to take the food he delicately hands it over. The process repeats, with King biting at her legs when she does not chew only holding the meat in her teeth, his own teeth never break flesh but encourages her enough to eat.

He continues until she seems genuinely unable to devour more slowly trudging off and returning with a wetter snout he opens his maw slowly to her and water he had collected falls onto her as he attempts to offer her water, she makes noises of discontent shaking her head at the water splashed on her with a warning hiss he doesn't respond to.

King holds his jaw more steady and after some working out carefully shares the water with her for her to drink, he seems content and licks the spare droplets from her muzzle and nuzzles her face in affection purring deeply to her before going to retrieve more water, though this time she stands to follow slowly. He stops every few paces waiting for her and rests besides her at the water as she tips her head low and drinks, his tail thumps the grass happily.

———

"King has been tailing the group for a few weeks now, he is recorded giving Leader special attention and even aiding in the hunts and refusing to let the others eat until himself and Leader have had their fill. Her health is improving, though it's clear she still thinks about the nest and lost hatchling, on some nights she is seen pacing around making calls for her baby as though she will get a response. King only seems to watch her when this happens, he does not seem aware of what she is calling for."

"She will recover and more behaviour can hopefully be recorded. The area which burned down has been regrowing at a rapid previously unseen rate and should be back to it's lush original state within a month or two. Area zero continues to fascinate us."

-Recording end-

[tellthemeerkatsitsfine]

Got this comment on one of my posts, went to reply, found that I had more to say than I could fit into a comment, so I'm replying with a new post instead. Hope you don't mind, @properverse.

I might be wrong, but I think the Jimmy Carr situation has changed even in the few years since I've started following this stuff. When I first watched 8 Out of 10 Cats/Catsdown/Big Fat Quizzes in 2020, here's what I think the situation was: Jimmy Carr writes horrifyingly offensive one-liners and smashes them all together in stand-up shows, he also does a lot of autocue-reading TV hosting, it's a pretty soulless comedy career but he's a professional at what he does, seems to do it well (if you assume that "it" is tell a bunch of one-liners where the punchline is the fact that it's offensive, and look like a robot in robotic TV jobs), it's certainly worked for him, it's made him very rich. He's friends with a lot of other comedians, who all say he views comedy as a job that has nothing to do with his real personality, and in real life he's a very nice guy. That does track with how he comes across - a soulless comedy robot just punching the clock, not putting any of himself into his work, so I guess it's totally possible that he's very different when not on the job.

I made a lot of posts in the early days of this blog that talked about Jimmy Carr. When I think about my early posts on this blog, I have a better understanding of why comedians don't love having bootlegs of themselves out there; I love getting to hear what a comedian I like said in 2008 or whatever, but I also cringe at the thought that people can read some shit I wrote in 2020. I frequently cringe at the thought of stuff I wrote last week.

Anyway, I was very very into Catsdown in particular in those days (I still think it was a great show in its heyday, I just think that day was long over even before Sean Lock died and it should be done now), so Jimmy Carr cropped up in a lot of my posts. I didn't like him, but I did sort of respect some things about his weirdly cold professional approach to the job, and every once in a while I'd write some screed that would try to reconcile all the contradictions about him. And speculate on whether the laugh is real. I still think it might be, he might have just covered it up better earlier in his career. Most likely option seems to be that it started as an affectation and became real. I did mention, in some old post or other, that Jimmy Carr draws very clear dividing lines between his professional persona and his real life, he's never "himself" on stage or on screen. Which means the only thing we know for sure that Jimmy Carr did as a real person, as himself and not as the character at all, is avoid tax.

This seemed like a reasonable thing to discuss speculate about and consider complicated at the time, he was an example in what I think are some reasonable debates about how much offensive stuff it might be acceptable to say in the name of comedy (though he wasn't a great example because he isn't actually funny). I did find it interesting that all the other comedians seemed to like him so much.

That's where I think things were a few years ago, when I started this blog. But I don't think that's the case anymore. At some point in the last couple of years, he's gone from that, to someone where I will easily just say "that guy can fuck right off and so can anyone who thinks he's cool". It doesn't seem so complicated now.

I think the turning point was when that Holocaust joke he made got all over the tabloids and stuff. Which I did think was a bit ridiculous, tabloids reporting that Jimmy Carr told a racist joke. I'm not defending the joke at all, it was awful and racist. But it was about the same as all his other jokes, it was weird to single that one out. If you don't like racism, don't go to a Jimmy Carr gig. Ideally, no one would like racism and Jimmy Carr wouldn't have a career. But I guess there's always a market for it.

After that whole storm, Jimmy Carr doubled down hard, and since then he's become much more classically right-wing. Going on Joe Rogan and Jordan Peterson's podcasts. He's appeared on a few right-wing panels and stuff. Railing against cancel culture and the woke PC mob in interviews, in "real life", when appearing as himself, sharing real views rather than just doing comedy. Pivoting in his stand-up from all the years spent just saying awful things, to saying awful things prefaced by "of course this will get me canceled by the wokes".

Basically, I feel like he's proven all the initial easy assumptions right. In earlier years, he made us think, okay, maybe it's possible that there is a weird contradiction where a really nice guy in real life can just say awful things because it's a job, just like any other person who might do things they don't believe in for the sake of their job, then he clocks off and he's a good person offstage. I thought the possibility of that contradiction was mildly interesting. But since 2022, he's pretty much said, "Nope, everything you'd assume about me from my comedy is correct, I'm just another right-wing stereotype in real life."

And I haven't heard quite as many other comedians talk about what a great guy he is within the last couple of years. Nish Kumar has a story in his latest stand-up show about getting in a fight with Jimmy Carr about this, getting angry at him for going on Jordan Peterson's podcast. That took place at Just For Laughs in 2022 (where I actually saw Nish Kumar live, and he did shout the words "Fuck you, Jimmy Carr!" during his set, and those words were not in that same show when I saw it a few months earlier in New York City, I didn't know until he started doing his current show that those words got added because he'd just had a fight with Jimmy Carr during the festival). They story makes it sound like he and Jimmy Carr were cool before that. Just a few months earlier he was hanging out with Jimmy Carr on Katherine Ryan's couch in her Backstage show. So clearly, at least in one comedian's mind, things were changing with him.

Since then, the only comedians I've heard talk about how great Jimmy Carr is are comedians where their veneration of him may be less "He doesn't really believe those shitty things", and more "I agree with the shitty things he believes" (Russell Howard, Katherine Ryan). And Sam Campbell. I'm hoping being a fan of Jimmy Carr is an anomaly in Sam Campbell's beliefs. That's a weird one that I can't explain. He's not even funny, Sam. What are you doing?

Anyway, that's what I think about Jimmy Carr. Not sure the whole "He's a great guy in real life!" holds up anymore. I also think I might have read at some point that he's said he won't do Taskmaster, I hope that's true. Though even if he's open to it, I think at this point he might be getting to be too controversial a figure for Taskmaster. Presumably the Taskmaster casting people know they'd alienate their audience if they brought in one of those "I hate the wokes" comedians, and Jimmy Carr has pretty well thrown his lot in with them.

All right, that is the last screed I write about Jimmy fucking Carr. I'm done with it now, I promise.

[ariel-seagull-wings]

THE SNAKE WHO WAS A PRINCESS

@tamisdava2 @adarkrainbow @themousefromfantasyland @the-blue-fairie @princesssarisa @faintingheroine @softlytowardthesun @grimoireoffolkloreandfairytales @professorlehnsherr-almashy

(Brazilian Folktale)

In ancient times there was a Kingdom that was not happy because its Queen had never had a child. The King was sad seeing the day when he got old, died and couldn't leave a person of his blood on the throne. The people made promises, the queen prayed, and the much-desired heir never appeared. 

One day, at the sound of the Hail Marys, the Queen lost her patience and said something she shouldn't have said: 

“God my Lord!”

She said: 

“Grant that I have a child, even if it's a snake!” 

After a while it seemed that the Queen was actually going to have a child. The King ordered the news to be celebrated with parties that didn't stop. Night and day the people danced and sang in front of the palace. 

No one paid any more taxes, the King walked around with his teeth bared in contentment, satisfied, treating his slaves with kindness. 

And it was like that until one stormy day, with thunder and lightning cutting through the clouds, the queen gave birth to a girl, very beautiful, with blue eyes, blonde hair, a beauty. But the girl had been born with a snake wrapped around her neck. 

Everyone in the King's house was disgusted. When the Queen looked at her daughter, she burst into tears. And no one wanted to go near the crib for fear of the snake. Doctors from other kingdoms came, doctors, prayers, diviners, and the more they did to remove the snake from the little princess's neck, the more the snake stuck to the beautiful girl. 

And the years went by. And the years went by. And the princess created a sisterly affection for the little snake, which was green and had a head with human eyes. For whole hours the princess would spend playing with the snake by the sea. 

And when the snake saw the waves of the sea, it liked to get out of the princess's neck and walk happily through the waves. She was so far from land that her friend didn't even see where she was going. 

And that's why she started to cry, afraid that the little snake wouldn't come back. She cried so much that the snake returned to the girl's neck, curled up, joined her friend, and the two returned together to the king's palace, where no one knew about these games on the beach. But one day, the snake entered the sea, going further than the other times. The princess cried, cried a lot, until she came back to say: 

“My rich princess, my day has come, I'm going far away, far away, to a land that is a thousand leagues lower than the bottom of the sea. You will be alone, my sister, but  I will not abandon you, I will help you whenever necessary. My name is Labismínia. Scream for Labismínia, and you can rest assured, I will come to your aid.” 

And having said this, the little snake ran into the sea. The princess stood on the edge of the beach crying. So many tears flowed from her eyes, like a stream of streams. Then she fell silent. Labisminia, her sister, was gone. And she was alone in the world, alone. 

At home, when Princess Maria arrived, without the snake around her neck, there was a commotion. The king danced with joy, immediately ordered a great party to be prepared, and called the kings of the other kingdoms. 

The people ate cake, they killed oxen and sheep for the people. And the slaves worked without shackles on their arms and feet. But Princess Maria was sad. It didn't even seem like it was all for her.

Every morning, when the sun rose, she went to the seaside to see if Labisminia appeared. And the sun arrived from far, far away and brought no news of Labismínia. In the afternoon, the princess returned to the beach where she played so much with her friend. She wanted to see if the moon said anything. 

The moon could tell if she had seen Labisminia, if she had passed through her sister's land. The moon was floating so much above the waters of the sea! 

But nothing. Neither the moon nor the sun gave news of Labisminia, which was in a land that was a thousand leagues further away than the bottom of the sea. Then the princess cried. 

Would God grant that she would go to the land that was a thousand leagues below the bottom of the sea…

Oh! If she could descend like a fish, escape the world and meet Labisminia again! Her neck was already used to the snake. And it went on like this, until one day the whole kingdom became sad. 

The King ordered the slaves to be shackled again, the king forced the people of his kingdom to pray. The Queen had started to get sick. There was no doctor who knew what it was. 

Doctors came from all corners of the earth, sorcerers from all corners of the world. And when the Queen felt she was going to die, she called the King and, in front of the entire court, said to her husband: 

“When you have to get married again, she said, taking a ring off her finger, it can only be with the princess on whose finger fits this ring that I give you.” 

The king cried a lot, but after so much crying, he began to think about his marriage. 

And for this he sent messengers to all sides of the earth. First for the princesses of Castille. And the ring didn't fit on anyone's finger. Then, to the daughters of the French peers. Anything. 

The king then sent to speak to the sovereign of England. And no princess appeared for the king's ring. In the Austrian court it was the same thing. 

And so it took a long time. The King was already convinced that he would no longer find a girl to marry, when he remembered his daughter, the Princess, who was the greatest beauty in the world. 

Who knows, he thought, if that snake around Maria's neck might not be a sign from God for him to marry his own daughter? 

And thinking so, he sent for the Princess. And the ring fit on his daughter's finger, as if it had been made for her.

When the princess learned of her father's intentions, she ran to the edge of the beach and began to cry loudly, crying so much, shedding tears like the eyes of water from a mountain range. 

“Labismínia, Labismínia!”

She shouted:

“Come and help me!” And when she saw it, it was a noise that came from the bottom of the sea. A big wave hit her feet, and the little green snake, with human eyes, appeared in front of her, magically, saying to her: 

“Why is the beautiful princess crying, my sister?”

Maria told her whole story. She was the most unfortunate girl of all the girls in the land, as she would have to marry her own father. 

“There's nothing, my sister.” 

Labismínia told her. 

“I will save you from everything. Ask the king that for you to marry him he needs to give you a dress the color of the field with all its flowers.” 

Then the sea made another fearful noise and a wave carried Labisminia into the depths.

Princess Maria returned home comforted and told her father what she wanted. The king was surprised by his daughter's request, but he was not disappointed. Messengers, servants, slaves went out into the world looking for the dress. The princess, in the palace, was already resting, when her father appeared with the requested dress, which was the color of the field with all its little flowers. 

“I give you the dress of your desires. It cost me more than the Kingdom I won in the battle with the Moors.”

The princess looked at the dress, which was a beauty like she had never seen. But as soon as she thought about the wedding, she started crying again. And with that agony in her heart she ran to the beach shouting for the snake: 

“Labismínia! Labismínia! Come save me!”

Then the sea gave a groan, and a wave brought the little green snake with human eyes to the princess's feet. 

“Labismínia, the King my father sent people through the hollow of the world looking for the dress that was the color of the field with all its little flowers. It's beautiful, Labismínia, but I don't want to marry my father.”

“There 's nothing.”

 Said the little snake:

“There 's nothing. Ask him for another dress, a dress the color of the sea with all the fish.”

Princess Maria consoled herself again. And a big wave, all white foam, took Labismínia to the bottom of the sea.

The King, when he found out about the princess's new request, put his hands on his head. Where to find a dress like that? But he had to marry his daughter. 

And he sent his messengers out into the world again. 

One day the sea-colored dress arrived with all its fish, and he gave the dress to his daughter. The princess found it a beauty, much more beautiful than the other. She dressed up with him, looked at herself in the palace mirrors, but when she remembered that she had to marry her father, she found herself crying. And she went to the beach after Labisminia. And the little snake didn't take long to arrive to console her sister. 

“There's nothing, my sister Maria. There's no need to cry so much, Labismínia has to find a way. Go back and ask your father for a dress the color of the sky with all the stars. There's no need to cry, my dear sister.” 

And she reassured so many good things that the princess returned home happy with her life. She immediately went to talk to her father. She wanted a dress the color of the sky with all the stars. The king gave in to despair. Where to find a dress like that? So he called his vassals, called his treasurer, opened his chests and said: 

“Damn you for the world. Bring me this dress, even if it costs all the gold I won in the war with the Turks.”

​

And the messengers went out into the world. The princess, happy, sang. She went out through the garden, walking among the rose bushes, which smelled so much as if each one were a bottle of scent. 

And the birds in the trees sang. Many came to play at the feet of the princess, who was the happiest creature in this world. Princess Maria played with the birds, happy, content, in the trust she had in her sister Labismínia. 

And times went by. 

But one day the King arrived in her chamber. 

Behind him came a hundred slaves who carried in their hands the dress she had asked for from her father. 

The stars in the sky on the blue silk sparkled as if it were made of diamonds. The train of her dress went so far that she couldn't even see the end.  

“My daughter…”

 The King said to her.

“I bring you the greatest wealth of all the kingdoms on earth. For this dress I gave all the gold and all the stones that I brought from the wars with the Turks. Now, my daughter, let's set our wedding day.” 

The princess didn't even wait for her father to leave her room. He soon fell to the ground, crying. She had been deceived by Labismínia! And at the edge of the beach she went to call for her companion, screaming in pain. Tears flowed from her eyes like water from a casagrande toe.  

“Labismínia, Labismínia, where is my heart’s little snake?” 

A noise was heard coming from the bottom of the sea. And the green snake with human eyes approached the crying princess. Maria told him everything. It was okay, said the little snake. 

“Go home, pack your bags, with all the dresses your father gave you, and go back to the seaside. Here where I am, you will find a ship that will take you to a beautiful kingdom, far away from this world where you have suffered so much, my little sister of the heart. But look carefully: when you're on the happiest day of your life, scream for me three times, so that I can become disenchanted and become the princess I am again.”

No sooner said than done. Princess Maria fled with her dresses on the ship that Labismínia had sent for her. 

The King had gone out on a hunt. 

And the princess filled the ship with her suitcases. And she was gone into the unknown realm. 

Once there, she did everything as Labismínia had told her. 

She jumped ashore, and when she noticed, she no longer saw the ship, nor did she see the suitcases with her dresses anymore. She was changed into a servant, a poor girl, the poorest girl on earth. 

And arriving in the unknown kingdom, she went to ask the Queen for a job, who, seeing her so poor, ordered her to take care of the chicken coop.

Maria slept among the chickens, dirty as she had never seen one of her father's slaves. 

At night she cried, seeing that Labismínia had lied to her. 

Poor her, she was the poorest girl in the world! 

Even so, Princess Maria still gave thanks to God. Better to sleep with the chickens than marry her father. 

Where was the prince that Labismínia had promised her? After a while, they started talking in the kingdom about a very big party that they were going to give in the city near the castle. 

And on the day of the spoken party, in the early evening, Maria began to notice the carriages that passed, clinking along the road. So, after wrapping up the chickens, she thought about life. She was the poorest girl in this world of God. 

Everyone went to the castle party, the poor and the rich, and she alone stayed there, smelling the dirt from the king's chickens. 

But all this was better than marrying her father. 

She had this thought in her head when she heard a voice coming from far away:

“Take your carriage, Maria, and go to the party.”

Suddenly, she saw herself in her dress the color of the fields with all its little flowers. A carriage with a silver harness, with six black horses, was waiting for her. And that's how Princess Maria went to the most talked about ball in the city. When she entered the hall, she admired everyone. They had never seen a richer and more beautiful princess. Her dress filled everything with beauty. It was as if the most beautiful field on earth had entered the room, with all its perfumes, with all its colors. 

The King and Queen immediately wanted to meet that Princess of such distinction. And the one who noticed Maria most was the king's son, a very handsome Prince, with black eyes. But the Princess didn't stay until the end of the party. When the roosters began to crow, she returned in her carriage to her corner in the castle. The other day, it was what everyone was talking about, in the king's palace. 

What kingdom could that Princess be from, with such beautiful clothes, with such blond hair, with such blue eyes? 

The Prince only talked about her with his mother. I didn't want to know anything else there, other than that girl in the dress that was the color of the field with all its little flowers. 

The next night there was another dance in town. 

Along the way to the city, Maria saw people passing by in carriages. 

Very sad, she was seeing so many happy people, so many loved girls, and she was there among the chickens, so poor and so alone. 

Despite this, everything seemed better than marrying her father. Soon she heard a very familiar voice: 

“Maria, Maria, take your carriage and go to the party.” 

Waiting for her was a beautiful carriage with golden harnesses and two pampas horses. 

And with her dress the color of the sea with all the fish, the unknown princess entered the room, amazing. 

The people's astonishment was even greater than the other night. 

Where had that girl gone to get such a beautiful dress? 

The Queen's dress, next to Maria's, looked like a poor man's outfit. 

And wherever Maria passed, there was a wave of smell. Her golden hair, her blue eyes, were unnatural, they were so beautiful. 

The Prince didn't take his eyes off her. 

There was a buzz around the room. Where did that girl come from?

And the coachmen at the palace door stared open-mouthed at the carriage. 

With its golden harness, all made of glass, Maria's carriage far left the king's cabriole, which looked like a poor man's car next to hers. 

The huge horses had never been seen so big in that area. And the coachman dressed like a court grandee. 

That was wealth. And when the roosters crowed, the princess retired to her room, where she went to sleep among the filth of her chickens. 

The other day, at court, all the talk was about the beautiful princess. 

The Prince did not sit still. 

Spies were already on every corner of the road to see where the most beautiful Princess who had ever crossed the royal roads was coming from and passing by. 

In her corner, Maria didn't even show a sign of pride. 

Mixed with her chickens, she was dirty like the poorest girl in the world and still giving thanks to God. 

Better all that than marrying her father. 

And in the afternoon, when she was taking her chickens to the pigsty, she saw the black-eyed prince standing on the road.

“Where did you come from, chicken farmer?” 

He said looking at the girl's face. 

“Yesterday I saw a princess at the city party who looked just like you!” 

Trembling with fear, Maria replied: 

“Who am I, your Highness, to look like the most beautiful princess at your party?” But the Prince left bowing his head. 

That day was the last night of the party. 

Maria, sitting at the door of her room, looked at the moon coming out of the sky, very round, covering everything with silver. 

A wind came from afar and blew the Princess's enchanting hair. 

Along the road, carriages rushed to the ball. 

Then she heard Labismínia's soft voice: 

“Maria, take your carriage and go to the party.”

A carriage with diamond harnesses, with six white horses, waited for the most beautiful princess in the land. When Maria gave faith, she was wearing her dress that was the color of the sky with all the stars. 

In the large ballroom, everyone stopped to look at her. The dancing stopped, the music stopped. 

The Princess entered and all you could see were people admiring the beauty she brought. 

The Prince was so filled with love that he ran to the princess and fell at her feet, kissing her dress, with tears in his black eyes.

“My beautiful Princess, keep this token with you …” 

He said. 

And he gave Maria a beautiful jewel. Just as the roosters crowed, the princess returned to her room. And the Prince, with so much love for her, fell ill in bed. Nothing existed for him, he didn't eat, he didn't sleep, heaving sighs for the princess who had left. 

The Queen called all the doctors in the kingdom to see her son in that state. But no one knew what he had. Poor thing, he didn't even want to drink a cup of broth. From no one's hand did he accept food or drink. 

The poor mother asked others to see if her son received from anyone what she did not want to receive from her hands. But the Prince refused. 

He wanted to die, telling everyone that only the beautiful Princess at the party existed for him. 

The Queen called, one by one, all the women in her court. 

She called the princesses, she called the wives and daughters of her vassals, and the prince didn't want to look at any of them. 

That's when they remembered the girl from the chicken coop. 

Maria was called to the palace. 

The Queen immediately ordered her to take a broth to the Prince's room, which he didn't want to take from anyone's hands. 

“My rich lady, who am I to deserve so much honor from Your Majesty? All I can do is prepare a broth.” 

The Queen accepted, she was so distressed. Maria prepared the broth and put the jewel that the prince had given her at the party into the cup. 

And when the prince put the spoon in the cup and saw the jewel, he got up from the bed, shouting to his mother: 

“Mother, I'm fine. Order the creature that prepared the broth to be brought here.”

They sent for the chicken farmer.

And when the messengers arrived from the chicken coop, they found the princess of the party, in her most beautiful dress, with a hundred slaves to serve as her servant, with a thousand suitcases of clothing, with three large carriages. 

And Princess Mary married the black-eyed Prince … 

But on the day of the wedding feast she forgot to call Labismínia three times, as she had promised. 

And the poor princess was not disenchanted. 

She remained a snake for life, with those human eyes. And that is why even today the sea moans so much, screams so much, makes so much noise. 

It is poor Labismínia who, from the bottom of the sea, calls for her ungrateful sister who did not remember her on the happiest day of her life.

[jaybutnotthebird]

I found a conexión between my two latest obsesions and its an overlooked detail that I think It's so important and cool and underrated

SO IM GONNA BITCH ABOUT IT

Atlas May and Johnathan Brisby

Characters who are very important for the story, but are no longer there.

They are long gone. They are dead. We never hear them talk, we barely catch glimpses of them, we know them for what others tell us about them

The protagonists live in their shadow and the wreckage left behind by them, no matter how good or powerful they were, no one expected them to die and once they did everything fell apart without them

Johnathan was a hero. He was smart, selfless, self sacrified, never afraid to take risks. He knew the great owl, he owned a mysterios pendant that saves the day, he got killed taking a great risk for the rest of the comunity

The moment his name is mentioned everyone stops and listens and their whole demeanor changes and they are suddenly willing to go out of their way to help his family

After he died his widow and children were left in the dark about an important secret they have inherited and hey must fend by themselves in a dangerous enviroment. The rest of the comunity strugled to fill his role at a critical moment with a traitor on the loose.

We are told he went out of his way to save others when he could have just saved himself by just opening a gate but thats the least of It, there are so many other things he did that we are not told about

Atlas May is general y disliked by the fandom

Maybe It is the way Zib talks about him, with resentment, or that he wasn't in good terms with Mitzy, or that he was into nasty business practices, and got everyone arround him stuck in them

But we cannot deny that he acomplished great things

He buildt and empire and the people arround him greatly benefited from him, hell, Ivy's family is still rich after doing business with him in his prime.

I bet he wasn't perfect, no one in lackadaisy is but Its easy to blame It all on the bastard when he is no longer there

Why do I think we should have more characters like this?

Well, we all think we are the protagonist of our own story, but anyone can have an accident.

Nowourdays you hear of death but most of the time you don't trully understand It. You hear of a catástrofe that took hundreds of lives and you imagine for a moment how bad that is but you don't trully understand It, you can't

You can't possibly take in what It must be for every single family and friend who lost each of those persons, every child that will be missing a parent, every friend that will be thinking of them three or ten years from now, every unexpected little thing or big acomplishment each one of them could have done throughout their life wich we are now missing.

How many of them had a dificult relationship with someone they loved and never got to make peace? (boy am I glad Im alive)

Too often in media we see a lot of background characters die and we dont think about It becouse the protagonists have plot armor, the ones that count are fine.

I call these 'ghost characters' but theres also 'semi-ghost characters' wich give ya a glimpse by leting us know them before they are gone, so we know what we will be missing

Thanks to characters like this we see the consecuences of death. The way they impact people's lives arround them, the things they did and the things they could have done, we wonder what their personslities were like...

I think that is important, and we don't see that often enough

[lonelylonelyghost]

In Blossom: a fun mystery Cdrama

Once upon a time in Heyang city, there lived a kind girl Yang Caiwei with a scar on her face, who respected the dead and distrusted the living. Then she met a man Pan Yue, who was as beautiful as he was dangerous, and her life became a total shit show.

There is a proverb about marriage being good for men's health but terrible for women's. And in this particular case the saying was proven to be correct, because Yang Caiwei dies literally on her wedding day...

... but actually not really.

You see, right before the ceremony she was kidnapped by Shangguan Zhi, a rich woman fixated on two things and two things only: her own beauty and Pan Yue.

Shangguan Zhi swapped her own face for Yang Caiwei's in order to marry the object of her obsession. The procedure was finished just in time for the wedding (insert a joke about miraculous plastic surgeons in Ancient China here), but unfortunately the only thing this stunt brought this poor delusional girl was her own brain splattered on the stairs. Woops.

So now Yang Caiwei, with the face of her almost-husband's stalker forced upon her, has to investigate her own murder. The biggest suspect is Pan Yue, who conveniently returns from the capital to Heyang city a couple of months later after the "death" of his wife, engaged to a princess and with white streaks in his hair that could not possibly be due to grief.

And thus the shenanigans ensue!

And I liked this drama a lot!

The pacing

is great. This is a crime solving drama, and the cases that our characters investigate are actually quite unique (and messed up), there's no dragging out the details. The general flow of the drama is fast too, and while there is tension and mystery where it needs to be, the kinds of misunderstandings that usually are getting on the viewers nerves are resolved quickly. As an extremely anxious person, I appreciate this on a spiritual level.

The cinematography

is absolutely gorgeous. It's main character in its own right. It's gorgeous, gothic and brooding, just like our ML.

(the screenshots I have are mainly of ML, but what can I say except you're welcome)

The characters

are also great.

Yang Caiwei is a mortician, and the fact that she is now in a body of a spoiled rich girl doesn't deter her from continuing doing her job and finding out the truth behind her case and many others that she encounters on the way.

Pan Yue is a magistrate in Heyang, which is kind of like a head of a government investigation agency or something. He's cold, two-faced, smart as hell and terrifying when you get in his way (especially at the start), but is ready to do anything for a person he loves - which are the most attractive qualities a fictional man can have, fight me.

Also, look at him

Once the actual story begins, those two go through several stages of their relationship - from mutual suspicion to respecting each other as fellow justice-driven professionals to working together but this time as a couple. And all of the stages are enjoyable to watch in their own ways. I loved how they respected and trusted each other's judgements and abilities. A power couple with a surprisingly healthy dynamic between them. Awesome.

Other characters are interesting as well. There are many people that we encounter in Heyang and beyond, good, bad and something in between, each with their own goals and motivations.

The episodic characters featuring in the cases are not flat cardboard cutouts either, and as much as Chinese censorship would permit, even the villains are allowed to be people with justifiable reasons to be the way they are.

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

To be completely honest, I hesitated to even start watching this drama because of all the negative stuff I've heard. But thanks to talented gif-makers on here and @hils79's watch parties, I was tempted enough and finally clicked on the first episode. And well, I didn't regret my decision! And I actually finished the whole drama without any breaks, which is a very rare thing for me.

If you try you can pinpoint many faults in this drama, no doubts. But I'm personally just looking for a good time. For me the characters were great, I vibed with the acting, and the cases were an appropriate amount of bonkers, so...

It's up to you, dear reader

This has been your friendly ghost from Abyss, with some recommendations on how to distract yourself from the horrors of existing（*＾-＾*）

[aspoonofsugar]

Have you seen Glass Onion? What did you think of it? And did you see the original?

Hi!

Yes, I have watched it and I liked it a lot! I think it is a great sequel to Knives Out in how it manages to be coherent with it, but also to complete it beautifully from a thematic POV.

A DOUGHNUT AND AN ONION

A doughnut hole in the doughnut's hole. But we must look a little closer. And when we do, we see that the doughnut hole has a hole in its center - it is not a doughnut hole at all but a smaller doughnut with its own hole, and our doughnut is not whole at all!

I like the glass onion, as a metaphor. An object that seems densely layered, but in reality, the centre is in plain sight.

Knives Out is a murder hidden behind an accident hidden behind a suicide... It is a doughnut with another doughnut at its center and another smaller one at its core.

Glass Onion is well... a glass onion. It is an onion made of glass. There seems to be so many layers, but they are fake. The truth is obvious since the beginning if one were to look closely.

So, are we in front of 2 opposite cases? Not exactly, as the doughnut and the onion are actually the same. Specifically, these 2 assholes are the same:

Once again, they may seem opposites. Ransom is born rich and is brilliant. Miles is born a normal person and is an idiot. However, they both choose to do nothing, but to take from others.

Ransom could do tons of things. He surely doesn't lack any talent nor intelligence. And yet, he prefers murdering his grandfather with an overly complicated plot rather than like... work one day... Maybe try a job, Ransom, I swear it would have been... you know... less complicated.

Miles is an idiot with the talent to copy others and the luck to meet Andy. All he has to do is to simply keep following her, but he wants more and he kills his old friend and partner, which leads to his downfall.

Both choose to kill a person who cares for them just to keep their money and they think they can get away with it for the simple reason they are rich. Most importantly, though, they both explore the same idea from opposite perspectives.

Harlan Thrombey: There's so much of me in that kid. Confident. Stupid. I don't know… protected. Playing life like a game without consequences. Until you can't tell the difference between a stage prop… and a real knife.

If Harlan had just called the ambulance, like any normal person would have done, he would have survived. He is a genius, but ultimately he dies because he too has lost touch with reality and simplicity, like the rest of his family. The same goes for Ransom, who comes up with an overly complicated plan just to be defeated by 1 single lie and a fake knife.

Helen: What about Miles? What if he just did it?

If Blanc had just listened to Helen's input since the beginning, he would have solved the case much quicker. And yet, he buys into Miles's brilliant persona only to realize by the end he is dangerous not because brilliant, but because dumb.

So, both movies explore the importance of seeing through the layers (like any whodunit does), but also reminds us sometimes the truth is fairly simple. No matter how many doughnuts are there, in the end the centre is always empty. Just like all the layers of the glass onions hide nothing.

Knives Out shows that intellectualism and even genius become empty and dry if they lose touch with reality because lost in privilege.

Glass Onion conveys that sometimes so called geniuses are just idiots that are where they are out of luck and malice.

Making things more complicated than what they are isn't helpful and there is much more value in a normal life rooted in love and simplicity.

This is why Blanc is ultimately not the hero of either movie. He solves the case, but has no arc and doesn't convey the theme. Marta and Helen do.

One of the reasons why whodunit are so liked as a genre is that they show the detective bringing back order in a world of chaos. There is a mystery, but the detective solves it and punishes the criminal. Justice is restored. And yet, Blanc never does it.

He is a helper, not a saviour. He shows the truth to the protagonist, but is unable to punish Ransom and Miles. If Blanc were alone, both murderers would have gotten away with their crimes. They are defeated because of Marta and Helen. The heroes are normal people, not the genius.

PLAYING WITH STRUCTURE

All these ideas are conveyed through the structure of the 2 movies. Think about it... both movies have overcomplicated structures.

Knives Out starts by tricking the viewers into thinking Marta accidentally kills Harlan and she has to hide it in order to protect her mother. This is already a rather strong premise, but then it turns out she is 100% innocent because there was another layer hidden behind.

Glass Onion starts by tricking the viewers into thinking Helen is Andy and someone is trying to kill Miles, but mid-way we are revealed the truth: Any is the victim and Miles the murderer.

So, both movies trick us, but the one who comes up with the trickery is the murderer in Knives Out and the detective in Glass Onion. This difference mirrors the nature of each case:

Knives Out is a murder planned by a mad man-child, so its complexity is born by the nature of the Thrombey family

Glass Onion is a murder executed by a chaotic idiot, so its complexity has to come somewhere else - Blanc in this case

What stays the same is Marta and Helen being against this much complexity. Marta wants to immediately call the hospital, but Harlan insists she should not and kicks off the plot. Helen suggests Miles killed Andy, but Blanc refuses this idea. Both times, the 2 women are right. This is because their strength lies in simplicity.

Marta Cabrera: I'm not trying to beat you. I'm creating a beautiful pattern.

Helen Brand: Our suspects, motive, opportunity... hey! This kinda looks like that Clue notepad.

DON'T PLAY THE GAME

Benoit Blanc: I want you to know that you didn't win the game by playing it Harlan's way, you won it by playing it your way. Because you have a good heart.

Miles Bron: They're gonna tell you to stop. Even your partner will say you need to stop. Because as it turns out, nobody wants you to break the system itself. But that is what true disruption is.

Marta and Ransom are the only 2 people who can beat Harlan at Go. However, Ransom wins by playing the same way Harlan does, while Marta wins by playing it her way. She does not look for strategy, but for beauty.

Helen and Miles explore what disruption is. Miles thinks it is about doing dumb things nobody tries because... they are dumb. The hydrogen energy fuel is the embodyment of this. Helen is instead a disruptor because she takes down a societal system which was oppressive and wrong, even if she sacrifices the Mona Lisa to succeed.

Both times, the fight between the protagonist and the murderer becomes a fight to determine what the legacy of the victim will be.

Who will inherit Harlan's fortune? Marta or Ransom? This question is important on multiple level. Harlan's will was for Marta to have it, so that his family could heal and grow. So, Marta and Ransom are still fighting to save and kill Harlan, in a sense.

Who will destroy Andy's Glass Onion? Miles with his idiocy and his disastrous "energy source"? Or Andy in an attempt to punish her sister's murderer and to restore her legacy? Once again, Andy is already dead, but who wins between Miles and Helen is important for her.

In a sense, both Harlan and Andy are geniuses who leaves a huge impact on the world. Harlan is a famous writer who has influenced the mystery genre worldwide, while Andy is a business woman who has created an Empire. They both are betrayed by a close one and killed because of their intelligence. Harlan's intelligence makes him realize Marta would be in danger if she kills him by accident. Andy knows she is way smarter than Miles and is not scared of him. After their death, there is now a question. What about the future?

The 2 movies gives us this answer. Marta is the future of the Thrombey's family and Helen is the future of Glass Onion. Both times, Harlan and Andy's legacy does not lie in people from their world (Ransom and Miles), but in a nurse and a teacher, who are down-to-earth and can succeed where they failed. As if the point is that society needs much more people like these, rather than over the top geniuses/startuppers/businessmen.

These are some thoughts on the 2 movies! Thank you for the ask!

[bizarre-blorbo-bracket]

Round 1 poll 32: The Phantom of the Opera from the Best of Andrew Lloyd Webber CD/OP's mind vs Vladislaus Straud from the Sims

Propaganda under the cut:

Phantom of the Opera:

Ok so when I was little my mum had this best of Andrew Lloyd Webber CD she would play in the car quite often. I had no clue what stories any of the songs were from but I liked listening and I could pick up on the fact that several were parts of a set. From The Phantom of the Opera we had the titular song, Music of the Night, and All I Ask of You. I knew from general cultural osmosis that the main character was Christine, there was the phantom of the opera, and then there was a guy called Raoul and that he and the phantom were in kind of a love triangle for Christine's love. Anyway I had trouble distinguishing between Raoul and the phantom's voices so I thought that all three songs were just the phantom and that instead of All I Ask of You setting the two men up as foils, it was character development for the phantom. And if he was a good guy who would have such a tender love song, obviously Raoul was the big bad of the show. I imagined in great detail over many car rides to and from school a version of the show where the phantom was Christine's friend who lived in the walls and while he was kind of skittish and eccentric from the isolation, he was genuinely a good person at heart. One day Raoul shows up and he's rich and good looking and kind of a Gaston archetype, and he seems to be taking an interest in Christine, which the phantom doesn't like because he's secretly been pining after his best friend all these years, so despite his fears the phantom invites Christine into his underground lair where they can finally meet in person instead of talking through the walls (The Phantom of the Opera). She's a little nervous but they bond over their shared interests (The Music of the Night) and it seems to be going well up to the point where she sees his face behind the mask and freaks out, leading him to also panic. When she asks to leave, he's like "uh, no the idea was for you to live down here permanently with me, especially now that you've seen my face." She's hurt and betrayed that he would be so controlling and they have a big fight which culminates in him reluctantly letting her go and them not talking to each other for a while. In that time, Christine gets engaged to Raoul and the phantom watches them from the shadows. He's distrustful of Raoul but believes it to be his personal jealousy clouding his judgement until he sees Raoul sabotaging the set of one of the plays and tries to stop him, but ends up getting blamed for injuring the other opera stars himself. Christine and Raoul fight about the details in the story that don't add up, and Raoul reveals that he doesn't really love her, he's just after her money and status, but there's no way out of this marriage now- in the eyes of society she will soon be his possession. But surprise! Here comes the phantom to save the day! He offers to hide Christine from Raoul in his underground lair and help her break off the engagement from a safe place, but this time it's her choice and she can come and go as she pleases. He's really sorry for how he acted and he understands that he can't demand her love but he doesn't want to live a life without her in it, just being by her side and being friends again would be enough (All I Ask of You).

She agrees and they make up and they successfully kick Raoul out of the opera house. She says she does love him but she doesn't want to live her life underground and he doesn't think he'll ever be ready to join society so they part ways again at the end of the play, but he leaves her with a ring so that she'll always remember him and the bond they share. Years later she dies, and the ring eventually makes its way back to the opera house where it's sold in an auction (I knew vaguely that there was an auction at some point in the stage play but I had no clue where so I put it here?). The phantom sees this and concludes that Christine must have finally forgotten him, and he is so distraught that he burns down the entire opera house with him inside (Don't judge me for the weird ending I was 10 and thought this was the deepest most tragic thing ever). So yeah! I was totally enamored with this version of the play that I had completely fabricated from three out of context songs, to the point where I was actually quite disappointed when I finally watched the real show. Watching encanto a couple years ago was actually really cathartic because finally I could watch something at least somewhat similar to my personal blorbo version of phantom where he was a cool chill guy who happened to live in the walls. Also sorry this answer got away from me if you read all of this thank you ily hope u enjoyed this ride thru my tweenage psyche - idk how this would actually be able to be used in a bracket in retrospect but I really enjoyed writing this all out it was a real trip down memory lane

Vladislaus Straud:

An evil loner who plays the organ, he is the elder vampire who breaks into people's houses and drinks their blood. A threat to society. He may or may not have committed mass homicide in the past. I love him. I want to bite and choke him. Non-sexual way, just pure violence. I want to pet him on the head and punch him. I want to break into his mansion, play on his stupid air piano until he is irritated, beat him up, steal his coat, hug him (twice), steal his painting and maybe kick him. Not gonna lie, he looks like he's pretty soft to the touch. He could canonically use a hug. Actually. I'm not even kidding. He also looks like Nosferatu sometimes.