#sedulous

[doublethinkcrimes]

sedulous

/ sed · yuu · luhss /

(adj.) showing dedication and great care or effort

ORIGIN Latin sedulus "zealous"

[shotbyshe]

Words of the Day - sometime in May

sinuous:

Characterized by many curves or turns; winding.

Characterized by supple and lithe movements.

sedulous:

Persevering and constant in effort or application; assiduous.

Diligent in application or pursuit; constant, steady, and persevering in business, or in endeavors to effect an object; steadily industrious.

utilitarian:

Of, relating to, or in the interests of utility.

Exhibiting or stressing utility over other values; practical.

extirpate:

To destroy totally; kill off.

To render absent or nonexistent.

To pull up by the roots.

liminal:

Intermediate between two states, conditions, or regions; transitional or indeterminate.

Existing at the limen. Used of stimuli, especially a sensory threshold.

~~~

Words I heard in Boy Kills World....and from Jin.

[mybuddyjimmy]

Sedulous

Sedulous [SEH-jəl-əs] Part of speech: adjective Origin: Latin, mid-16th century 1. (Of a person or action) Showing dedication and diligence. Examples of sedulous in a sentence  “Marnie’s sedulous nature was a good fit for medical research.” “He caught the mistake right away thanks to his sedulous practices.” #wordoftheday

[grad-school-vocab]

Sedulous

adjective

(of a person or action) showing dedication and diligence."he watched himself with the most sedulous care"

[driveitlikesebastianvettelwould]

I see that Lando Norris is ready to win a championship, his team is not.

They need to prioritize his championship battle, and get some better strategy.

You cannot obsess over being ‘fair’ when you have a potential champion in your team. They talked Lando out of crucial points today, with Max off the podium those points would have been major. They cannot continue to hold him back for the sake of his teammate and team orders and morale or whatever their freaking motivation is. They didn’t pit him to undercut which makes this all the more ridiculous. They need to step up to what Norris is putting on the table. He made a choice and they should have stuck by him instead of sacrificing his race.

McLaren is a clown team and I don’t think they deserve Lando.

They told Lando to save his tires instead of letting him battle his teammate and get in front in the first stint, Piastri was gifted a podium today. McLaren needs to get their shit together.

His race engineer has just told him via radio there will be many more opportunities.

Well, McLaren squandered Lando’s opportunity in Silverstone, and many other races due to strategy, and they took valuable points away from him today. He has begged them to get better strategy.

McLaren is absolutely not ready and they are going to waste Lando’s drive to win this championship.

Lando deserved this win. I’m disgusted.

[p33p33p00p00]

its truly joeover for me

[yandere-writer-momo]

Yandere Head Canons: Sedulous Desire

Yandere Orc Bully x AFAB Reader

TW: Yandere behavior, violence, pantyhose kink, uncomfortable content, bullying, nonconsensual kissing, etc

From the moment Lash laid eyes on you when you walked into her class, she hated you. Lash Hearth hated you. She hated how cute you were. How doll like you were while she was riddled with scars from her parents. It wasn’t fair.

Lash may have been an orc, but she didn’t deserve the way the other students at this school despised her… and yet they loved you. A cute fairy. So delicate and dainty compared to her bulky, adolescent body. She couldn’t stand it. She was so jealous.

And so began to bullying. She would pull on your hair and she’d scribble over your art with red or black crayons. Hell, she even put thumb tacks in your gym shoes but you never got upset with her. You were nice to her despite her behavior. It only infuriated her even more, especially as the two of you began to get older.

You tried to be her friend, you truly did. You’d help Lash with her homework and you’d compliment her but she’d growl at you and insult you. You had even invited Lash to your birthday party since she didn’t have any friends, but she destroyed your cake. Lash wanted your life. It wasn’t fair… she wanted to be loved like you and if she couldn’t, then she’d ruin you. If she couldn’t be happy, then neither could you

Lash sometimes spilled water or paint on your clothes and tell you it was an ‘accident.’ Lash would trip you and kick your books away. But you still picked them up without so much a word or a tear. Why didn’t you react? Why didn’t you scream or cry from her relentless bullying? Why didn’t you cower in fear like the other students from her intimidatingly muscular stature and large tusks? Why couldn’t she break you?

The first time she saw you bare was in the locker room. Her golden eyes were wide with shock and awe. A heat spread between her legs that confused her. She hated you… so why did her body tell her otherwise? Lash didn’t understand that she confused a crush with hatred… she truly wish she would have realized this before she inflicted so much emotional damage on you…

It was when high school hit that Lash finally received a reaction from you. She had decided to try to give you a shove down the stairs but you had caught yourself. The orc bent down to sneer in your face, “why don’t you get the hell out of my way, cupcake-“

And that’s when you swung your small body around and sucker punched Lash in her ugly face with a force she didn’t even know you had. She hit the floor with a loud smack, blood fell from her face. Her nose bent to the side with blood gushing from it. You broke her nose… you hit her… and for the first time in her life, Lash felt her heart hammer in her chest and a heat consume her. She wanted more. More. More. More. Something dark woke up inside of Lash that day… and so began the obsession.

Lash began to steal your underwear whenever you changed in the locker room. She’d press the soiled garments up to her nose and greedily inhale the heady scent like a drug. Why did you smell so good? It wasn’t long before she found herself sucking on the garments like they were her favorite candy. She felt like a sicko but she knew she was just following her biological urge (she’s delulu)

Lash’s stomach now filled with butterflies every time you glared at her. You’d smack her hand away every time she tried to touch your hair. She was in love

Lash’s bullying reached an all time high but you fought back now. The principal had to pull you off of her when she held up the mangled body of the local cat you fed. Lash was in a state of euphoria from how beaten and battered you made her. Her ribs were cracked and her jaw was dislocated… but your eyes were on her. They were filled to the brim with emotion only directed for her but she didn’t care. She had received yet another reaction from you and it made her heart soar… you were worthy of her. And that was when a realization came to her. She loved you.

Lash loved how you were soft and sweet but you could fight. She loved how your small fists did so much damage to her massive body. How soft your lips looked. How your hips were perfect for her hands to grab onto. You were made for her… how didn’t she realize it before?

The principal nearly expelled her but Lash told the principal it would be discrimination since this was an orc tradition. Orcs chose their partners based on strength and violence… and Lash had found her partner.

Rather than continue to bully you, Lash now brought you flowers. Arm fulls of vibrant red roses with all the thorns removed the stems. It was such a strange sight to see your tormentor now absolutely love sick for you. It disgusted you.

Lash would sensually eat fruit in front of you in the cafeteria and make crude gestures at you with her fingers. It frightened you but you only had a few more weeks left until you graduated from this magical school. You couldn’t wait to get out of here… and away from her.

After graduation, she continued to try to chase after you but you told her to leave you the hell alone. You weren’t interested in her, no. You hated her. And it upset Lash. Why did you hate her? She could be a good mate, she was strong and massive. You’d be so safe with her… so why didn’t you want her? Were you still upset about grade school? Lash could make it all up to you. Her tongue was longer than most of the men genitals in this school. She was sure she could please you better than any man or woman.

You explained to her that you would never want to be with someone who tormented you for so many years. Who made your life a living hell for their own twisted fantasy. That physically and emotionally tormented you day by day. It was a firm no.

Even when Lash went down on her knees to beg for forgiveness, you didn’t budge. So she did what she had to… she took you by force. What an orc wanted, an orc took.

So here you were in her home as she shoved her tongue down your throat. Her large green hand forcefully held your head back by the hair so you couldn’t escape. Her golden eyes filled with lust while she watched you try to struggle from her hold. A few tears gathered in your eyes from how pathetic you felt under her but she shushed your cries with her lips and her tongue. Her tusks lights grazed across the soft skin of your cheeks, which made you gasp. Yes… she was a strong mate wasn’t she? She was perfect for you and you were perfect for her.

Lash pulled away from you, a thick string of saliva connected the two of you together. Lash quickly began to tug at her clothes with haste. Her large, green hands quickly began to work on yours as well. She needed you now. She needed to devour you or she felt like she’d lose her mind.

“Your clothes have to go… I’m starving.”

[perlelune]

Tag, You’re It | Ethan Landry | ix.

Happy, carefree college days meet their abrupt end when every guy who approaches you mysteriously turns up dead.

Warnings: NON-CON, Stalking, Bimbo!Reader, Clueless Reader, Loss of Virginity, Incel Ethan, Cheerleader Reader, Skin Carving (w/knife), Canon Typical Slashing, Voyeurism, Kidnapping, Forced Masturbation, Filming, Blackmail

This is a dark story. Heed warnings before reading under the cut.

𝖘𝖊𝖗𝖎𝖊𝖘 𝖒𝖆𝖘𝖙𝖊𝖗𝖑𝖎𝖘𝖙

The next few weeks trudge along in a dull fog, the efflorescence of spring yielding to the sizzling heat of summer. You cloister yourself in a sedulous bubble, turning your focus to cheerleading and the upcoming midterms.

You miss your friends, each day agonizing as you’re trapped in aching loneliness.

You miss Mindy’s sarcastic jokes, Chad’s warmth, Anika’s laugh.

You miss the lazy afternoons spent in each other’s dorms and horror movie nights. You miss the goofy late night chats about everything and nothing.

You also miss Ethan, his kindness, his patience.

Without him, studying becomes much harder. 

Even more than the help he provided, his friendship meant the world to you. He always listened and knew exactly what to say to cheer you up. Unfortunately he’s just as in danger as everyone else in your presence.

Getting close to you is a death sentence. 

You’ve learnt that some time after Tyler was attacked.

He succumbed to his injuries the very next night.

The news shook the student body and unleashed a ripple of fear throughout campus. 

As for you, it cemented your decision to keep away from everyone you hold dear. 

It’s for the best.

Your heart shatters every time Ghostface’s words bounce in your head. 

If you had stayed away from Tyler, he’d still be alive. The guilt of knowing that weighs upon you everyday.

It’s no wonder people give you wary looks when you walk across campus. It’s a miracle Alana even let you remain on the team with everything going on. 

You know she has every reason to kick you out and, truthfully, you’d understand if she did. 

It’s like Jeff said at the hospital. You’re cursed.

It’s Friday night and you’re in your room on your own, your roommate away on a trip with her boyfriend.

You don’t mind it since Vanessa started tossing you the same strange looks as everyone else lately.

It’s created a weird atmosphere in your dorm.

You’ve even caught her trying to fill a form to switch roommates, citing medical reasons. She was expeditiously denied as the year’s far too advanced and has been in a mood since.

A break is more than welcome.

Sitting on your bed with your knee against your chest, you carefully apply the second coat of your favorite pink nail polish. You smile at your handiwork once it’s dry, happiness fluttering through you at how pretty your toes look. 

As you remove your toe separator and wiggle them, wondering if you should add a layer of glitter or not, your phone buzzes.

Terror clutches your insides. 

A surprised exhale leaves your lips and you even kick the bottle of nail polish across the fuzzy rug below your bed, staining the pale blue wool with bright dots of pink.

Heart pounding a heavy staccato in your chest, you gingerly pick up your phone from beside your pillow.

You suck in a deep breath, then another one.

Ever since that night, you’ve been on edge every time your phone buzzes.

Needless to say the last few weeks have taken a tremendous toll on your sanity.

Finally, you gather the courage to check the text you just received.

At the sight of the familiar name, a mix of relief and melancholy floods your insides.

(Anika K: 

Hey, just checking on you and wishing you a happy Friday. Hope you’re okay and, if not, that things will look up very soon. 

I know you said you wanted space so I’m not gonna push, but I just wanted to let you know that I miss you so so much and things aren’t as fun when you’re not around.

I don’t know everything but I want you to know that I love and support you no matter what.

Here’s a bear for you cause I know how much you love them! 💖💖💖

Your bestie, Nikki)

A dancing bear shooting little hearts follows her message.

Tears swim in your eyes as you grow overwhelmed. They drip onto the screen, water smudging Anika’s words. You wipe your eyes and sniffle, grabbing the box of tissues on your night table. 

It’s not the first time your friends have tried to reach out.

Nearly everyday you get a message from Mindy, Chad, Anika and even Tara and Quinn sometimes, despite not being as close to them. 

They’re trying to get you to come out and act normal again. Except you can’t. 

No matter how much you crave it, normalcy is beyond your grasp. As soon as you’ll let your guard down, he’ll come back to torture you. Who knows who he’ll pick next just to teach you a lesson.

You can’t bear it. You can’t be the reason people are getting hurt. 

So you close the conversation with Anika as tears stream down your face, once again leaving her on read. 

Your heart sinks to your feet. 

You grab your teddy bear and hug it tightly, shuddering sobs wracking your frame.

The pit of hollowness inside you expands. 

You’ve never been so isolated before. It makes you wish you appreciated everything you used to have more. 

A gentle knock on the door lures you away from your wistful musings.

You gasp as your head jerks up.

You quickly wipe your eyes, lamenting their puffy redness as you get a glimpse of your despondent reflection in your vanity mirror.

You let go of your bear, propping him against the headboard.

Plastering on a smile, you plod to your dorm’s entrance.

Your jaw hangs slack at the sight of the head of brown curls and lopsided, bashful smile you know too well.

“Hey,” he greets, adjusting the strap of his backpack.

“E-Ethan? You shouldn’t be here.”

You attempt to shut the door but Ethan wedges his foot against the door jamb to keep it open.  He slinks inside and closes the door behind him.

Your eyes grow wider.

He drops his backpack on the floor and leans against the door, tilting his head sideways while running his eyes over you. 

“You missed all our tutoring sessions,” he notes.

A feeble apology stumbles out of your lips. “I’m sorry.”

He hums in acknowledgement before adding, “You don’t answer when I text or call.”

You heave out a long sigh.

“You should go.”

You try to shove him out but he doesn’t budge.

“No way,” he says firmly.

Your fingers outstretch toward the handle but Ethan’s faster, snapping the lock into place and placing himself in front of the door so you can’t escape.

You gawk at him.

“Ethan…What are you doing?”

Towering over you, he takes a slow step in your direction.

“I’m not going anywhere until you talk to me.”

“You shouldn’t be here.”

His hand sneaks under your chin when you lower your head.

“I’m exactly where I’m supposed to be,” he mutters, angling your chin upward so his gaze dives into yours. His chestnut orbs soften as they drink you in. “Come on. I’m always here for you, you know that.”

The longer you peer at him, the more the fences you erected around yourself crumble, until nothing is left but ruins.

More tears swell in your eyes.

“Everyone who gets close to me dies, Ethan,” you shakily confess.

Immediately, he wraps his arms around you, engulfing you in a tight warm hug. 

“Shh, that’s just not true,” he whispers tenderly, cradling the back of your head as you weep against his chest.

“Yes, it’s true. It’s like everyone’s saying. I’m cursed.”

He collects your trembling fingers from your lap and twines them with his. 

Your tears soak his shirt but Ethan doesn’t seem to mind. He grabs your hand and guides you back to your bed as you thoughtlessly trail behind him.

He sits you at the edge of your bed and hunkers down in front of you. Even like this, Ethan’s so tall that you’re still at eye level with him.

“You’re not cursed," he affirms softly. 

Water drips down where your hands are joined with his. 

“Yes, I am," you quaver. 

"But I am."

"No," he fervently retaliates, lifting one hand to swipe your tears with his thumb while the other one roams over your thigh. "It just wasn’t meant to be. These guys weren’t right for you…" You stare at him, numb with shock. Dumbfounded, you don’t move as he cups your cheeks and bends over you.

A confident smile unfurls on his mouth.

Warm lips suddenly collide with yours. You find yourself on your back, confined between Ethan’s large frame and the mattress as he kisses you senseless. 

You whimper and his kiss turns hungrier, his hand roughly gripping under your thigh in a way that’ll surely bruise the next day. He hums, exploring your mouth and sweeping over your curves.

As an unmistakable pressure jutting from between Ethan’s legs presses into your belly, alarm bells ring inside your head.

You bang against his chest to get him to stop. 

"Ethan! What are you-"

He finally allows you to breathe but doesn’t free you, keeping you caged beneath him by putting his hands on each side of you. 

He licks his swollen lips and caresses the side of your face before admitting breathlessly, "I love you."

Your mouth falls open in sheer disbelief. You toss him a contrite look as he scrutinizes you. 

"I…I’m sorry but I don’t feel this way about you, Ethan."

He chuckles, a hopeful smile blooming on his features.

"Maybe not now but…"

"No, I don’t think I ever will,” you cut him off, your voice dwindling. “I only see you as a friend. One of my best friends.” You raise your hand to graze his jaw and he flinches at your touch, his brows squeezing together. “I care about you so much…but not like that. I’m sorry."

Something shifts in Ethan’s eyes, the light in them dimming.

"I see."

The coldness of his deep timbre sends a wave of ice through your veins.

He scoffs meanly, a manic glint waltzing in his brown gaze, "So you’d throw yourself at any random guy but not me?” He corrals your jaw in a bruising grip. You whimper, fingers latching to his wrist to pull him away but he’s much too strong.

A devilish grin curves his lips as he leers down at you. “What are you, some kind of slut?” He leans over you so his lips ghost over your earshell. You quake as he mumbles chilling words into your ear. “Maybe since you’re a slut, I should treat you like one.”

You unleash an audible breath, your lip wobbling.

Suddenly, there’s no more air, no more space. Only Ethan’s large frame pinning you to the bed as his hands wander over you, feeling everywhere at once.

Struggling is for naught, his ardent mouth tracing the column of your neck.

He nips at your skin and you sob.

"No, Ethan, please. This isn’t you,” you plead, fat tears rolling down your face.

His hand creeps inside your shorts and your heart skips a beat. A squeal tears from your throat as he plucks at your folds through your panties. 

Ethan muffles your scream by draping his hand over your mouth. You look up at him with fearful eyes, adrenaline rushing through your blood.

Palming your core, Ethan unleashes a devious chuckle.

"Well, maybe you don’t know me as well as you think,” he whispers, yanking a broken wail from you when he pinches your bundle of nerves.

~

[miyrumiyru]

They are sedulous, they suck!

Honeysuckle bee hawkmoth (Hemaris affinis)

Korean azalea (Rhododendron yedoense)

[paltrymarshmallow]

I listen to an audiobook recording of The Strange Case of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde on a pretty regular basis. It's short, got some lovely suspense, interesting themes, and is fun to turn over in the mind and consider all the consequences.

One small excerpt of the book has been stuck in my head for a while now, and it doesn't seem to want to let go.

When the mysteries are just starting to be revealed, it is uncovered that Dr. Jekyll is searching ferociously for some drug through letters to chemists. It's the last line of the letter that Utterson reads that refuses to leave my brain:

"Its contents ran thus: 'Dr. Jekyll presents his compliments to Messrs. Maw. He assures them that their last sample is impure and quite useless for his present purpose. In the year 18‐‐, Dr. J. purchased a somewhat large quantity from Messrs. M. He now begs them to search with most sedulous care, and should any of the same quality be left, forward it to him at once. Expense is no consideration. The importance of this to Dr. J. can hardly be exaggerated.' So far, the letter had run composedly enough, but here with a sudden splutter of the pen, the writer's emotion had broken loose. 'For God's sake,' he added, 'find me some of the old.'"

That raw desperation with that slip into first person...! It's harrowing, given the restrained tone of the rest of the letter, and of the story up until this point. The audiobook does such a good job of highlighting the fear and distress of Jekyll in this letter. And, as we see as the story continues, there is no more drug, there is no more potion, and thus, he can't go back to his life as Dr. Jekyll.

This quote, for me, is such a potent reminder that sometimes there are changes that can't be reversed, things that can't be regained, and lucky chances or experiences that will never be duplicated. There's a terror here that quite resonates: What will we lose in our lives that will have us crying, "For God's sake, find me some of the old"?

[gulaab-jaamun-galaxy]

I stay up through the night; because that is when the moon and I have our conversations. I tell her about how I drown in the sparkle of your brown eyes and she tells me about how the sun makes-even the darkest parts of-her shine. 🌙💞🌻

Getting to know her was not easy. She had walls. Many walls built up. She put them as a test to see who would climb them. Climb them, and you’ll find a locked door. The key is communication. After you open the door, that if you get there, you’ll see her wearing masks. A thousand masks. The trick is to let her peel them off one by one and give her a safe haven to be herself around. She's goofy, sedulous, smart, chaotic, and a bit more. You just have to wait till she divulge one trait at a time.

I see the story in your eyes, and I want to read it. Your eyes are filled with such peace and thoughtfulness, I want to study their meaning. I am interested in the story they tell.

I see them sparkle and shine. I see them filled with emotion and desire. I want to know the story behind them. As dark as the night and yet lit like the full moon they shine. They look so deep like the deepest book, filled with endless pages I turn with such delight.

Let me know your story, let me read your heart that fills them. For your eyes are the index of such great content. Open them to me and let me look inside.

करीब आ तेरी आँखों में देख लूँ खुद को बहुत दिनों से मैंने आइना नहीं देखा।

@wizardcherryblossom 💌

@bareilly-wala-jhumka 💌

Dark brown orbs, an ocean's trance, Diving willingly, in a lover's dance. Lost within currents of passion's tide, A drowning embrace, where hearts confide.

A tiny, beauty spot, unique and rare, Underneath her left eye, it finds its place, Adding charm and grace to her lovely face.

After days, both tough and rough, Her eyes, a haven, tender and enough. Soothing rays in wounds unseen, In depths, love's serenity, serene.

Yet, if tears dare to tread near, A vow whispered, sweet and clear. Against stormy tides, love as our guide, Protecting her eyes, forever side by side. ♾️ 🤞🏻 💞

[just-some-random-blogger]

hi! your works are absolutely fascinating! so alive(?) and captivating. (if you're comfortable with it) can you please write something about daemon x rhae royce's younger sister who looks like a pretty lady but has a personality of a much harsher warrior than anyone could imagine. maybe she appears at the court right after rhae's death or even later. i just had an idea and it's totally you right to decide what to do with it. thank u in advance!

Served Cold

Daemon Targaryen x Royce!Reader

Summary: "Twas never my sister which was the ugly one between the two of us," I seethe, holding my dagger even tighter to the prince's neck, "Twas I."

Word Count: 1k+

Warnings: Depictions/descriptions of violence/death/murder, fem!reader, i spun a roulette to decide daemon's fate, i describe readers features, gaslight gatekeep girlboss, typos, etc.

A/N: I WAS SO EXCITED WHEN I SAW THIS NONNIE. RHEA WASN'T EVEN UGLY DAEMON NEEDS GLASSES AND TO GO TO JAIL. This is my vindication for the baddest babe that never got to be. I hope you like it nonnie, this took quite a dark turn lol Tagging: @pinksirensong @deniixlovezelda Part two anyone "I Want You, I Get You"

I made it a point to perfect my form before even practicing my moves. I was conscientious and sedulous in my work. Fair enough, I was not a quick learner like my sister. Rhea had always been better a picking up new things, but then again, I suppose the reason why it took me a while to learn something was because I wanted to make sure I knew every nuance, every sliver of detail about whatever it was that I was learning, before allowing myself to get into it.

And so when I was getting into him, by the time I was done, I knew Daemon Targaryen better than he even knew himself.

I knew it all. What he liked, and what he didn't. What got him turned on, what got him blood thirsty, and what got him bored.

I knew him like the back of my hand.

I knew what would make him tick before I even met him.

And I knew well to dress myself in colors that pleased him-- his house colors, of course, in all his vanity. I knew what style of dresses he liked on women; I knew the exact level of madonna and whore he was looking for.

I made sure the plunges of my collars were deep enough to attract attention, but modest enough to keep something for the imagination. I also I told my seamstress to keep my sleeves short and capped so he would want nothing more than to touch my bare arms.

If a tinge of decency overcame Daemon out of sport, I made sure to give him reason to avert his attentions to my skin by wearing some delicate silver jewelry.

I painted my face to accentuate the features I have been complimented on since a child. I drew on my eyes to make them look as though they were constantly gazing unto him with wonder, and brushed red on my cheeks, as though I was constantly blushing at his remarks, and on my lips, as though I was constantly pouting at his teases.

But all those things were nothing. The appearances I've had in front of the prince thus far, at court, during festivities and otherwise where nothing compared to what I had planned on our red-letter day.

Today, the kicker was my hair, my hair that was tied well enough to keep my thick, brown locks in fashion, but loose enough that with a strong enough flick, it would come undone.

"Lady Royce," Daemon calls, handing me a drink. I raised an eye at him and showed no acceptance of it as I crossed my arms.

He enjoyed that. He enjoyed it so much he poured the drink meant for me into his own cup and threw the empty one behind him with no regard. Why would he have regard, anyway?

He rakes in my appearance, "I see you have made a point to wear blue and red this evening," his lips curve, "could this be a marriage proposal between our two houses?"

Daemon is excited by my crass response, "you have not only already tainted my sister's being and bloodied your hands with hers, yet now you still thirst to defile the last remaining of her house?"

He tilts his head down at me as he narrows his eyes, "except I never touched that troll," the prince steps forward, "never wanted to touch her," he smirks, "unlike her little sister."

I lean close to him as I glare, "you're going to have to keep dreaming about it, my prince, because the day our skin touches is the day one of us dies."

Daemon breathes in my scent before I pull away abruptly. He chuckles from his spot, watching as I stormed off.

I was meant to exit the chamber and have him follow after me, but it seems that would not be happening, as Jason Lannister made it a point to grab my arm before I could depart.

"Lady Royce," he calls, making me turn and stand before him as he pulls away, "I apologize for the brashness, but I could not allow myself to have you leave without sharing at least one drink with me.

My lips curve at his words. A devious smile winds up on my lips, "why of course, my lord."

Jason then leads me off to where we could share a drink in relative quiet. I feel Daemon's gaze burn me with every move I made.

He was not particularly entertaining; Jason made it a point to talk about himself and how rich and powerful he was, but still, I made it appear that I was absolutely enchanted by our conversation, and that I was absolutely smitten.

I do say, Daemon had a timeliness to himself when he caught me genuinely laughing to the first funny thing Jason Lannister said all night.

And so when the vermin carelessly pulled me back with so much force, my hair tie finally gave up as I turned to him in offence.

I gasp at it, clutching my hair and its accessories, so that it would not further fall. Jason picks up one of my fallen clips as I rip my arm out of Daemon's clutch. I eye him darkly and mutter, "imbecile."

He lets out a dry scoff as Jason does a horrible job at trying to put my clip back where it was a while ago.

I grab his hand in both of mine and give a pinched smile, "I appreciate the efforts, Jason, but I think it is a sign I should retire. I could not go about the rest of the night like this."

"Nonesense," he shakes his head, "dare I say you look better this way."

I chuckle under my breath and begin to back away, "I thank you for your high opinions of me, but I really must go."

I take in Jason's expression as he steps towards me. Daemon eyes him darkly.

A clever thought springs in mind. I release a breath, "well, if you would like, we can meet at the gardens after I fix my hair."

The Lannister's face lights up, "I would want nothing more."

I give him one last look of regard, forfeiting one for Daemon, and make my way outside.

I make attempts together my hair up and fix it the way it was a while ago. It was I that fashioned my hair today. It was an easy task to do it again, even without a mirror, this time, more securely. I make my way out of the hall, towards the gardens.

I feel my stomach churn in anticipation when I hear the heavy footsteps behind me.

The next thing I know, I am pressed against the wall, being stared down my the riled up Targaryen, "you exasperating minx."

My nostrils flare at his expression and I shove him off me with a grunt. He reels back at my unexpected strength.

I give him a dirty look as I speed down the hall.

Daemon takes a moment before replying and chasing after me, "do you expect me to believe you did not plan for that to happen?"

I scoff as I gather my skirts in my hands, "oh, but of course I wanted my hair to come undone before Jason Lannister. That was the plan from the moment I was born."

When I hear his steps quicken, I bring my skirt higher and tighter in my grips, running faster.

Daemon is stunned by this and it takes a moment for the scene to register in his mind.

I eventually make it into the garden when he manages to grab me again. We are both heaving when he spins me around and tightly clasps my arms, "nowhere to run, little girl."

I grip my skirt tightly as I wrangle my shoulders in his grip. Daemon smirks at me all while using his strength against my actions.

"Now that you've had your fun," he leans in, "it's my turn now."

I bring my hand under my skirt. The moment he makes the mistake of withdrawing one of his hands, I knee him with all my strength in his groin, sending him crumpling down with a pained whine. That will hopefully prevent him from ever having children.

"You fucking bit-"

I tackle him to the ground, ripping my dagger off my thigh holster as I did so. With him pinned bellow me and my knee onto his back, I brought the blade to his neck, red immediately begins to gush against his skin, "you must understand something-"

I gag him with a piece of cloth I prepared in the chance he squirmed. He did not, I gaged him out of spite.

"Twas never my sister which was the ugly one between the two of us," I seethe, holding my dagger even tighter to the prince's neck, "Twas always I."

With one, clean, practiced move, I slashed the prince's throat. I made sure it was not enough to kill him, but enough for the guards to find him when I scream for help. We'll find out soon enough if it is his fate to meet my sister, or if it is mine.

I drop the blade to his side and pull away from him. I turn to my hands, smiling at the fact I managed to keep them clean. I then drop to my hind, and crawl back screaming, "HELP! HELP! SOMEONE HELP US! THE PRINCE HAS BEEN SLAIN!"

I continue my screams up until someone comes.

It's Jason, frantic and distraught.

Perfect.

[ms-scarletwings]

A Messy, Sedulous Necropsy of Zib Membrane

That’s what we call him right? Not Invader Zib? Hell if I know, we’ll let the tags decide.

Whatever he is christened by his author, enemies, or fans, this titular villain of the Zimvoid is such a mind blaster to me. I wish we had more time with him within the comics. I wish he had been a concept explored in the show. I wish he had a movie. I am having fun with a little hyperbole here, but I truly do find him just as interesting and potentially pivotal of an antagonist as Tak was, if not even more.

Both, of course, were so badly underutilized for sake of the series status quo. To that, Zib was a much bigger threat than Tak, and especially to that of the comics’ own. He potentially changes everything, and somehow absolutely nothing by the end. The TV show always had a more overt tone of cruelty and the macabre floating about its themes. These print issues? I don’t dislike them. It’s still recognizably invader Zim, and the more the merrier, content-wise, but longtime fans can feel that there was this change of essence in the transition. More obviously, in the art, but more subtly, there was an audible softening of that bluntly darker, cynical tone the show was made iconic for. To put it very generally, they lean a little more into the whackiness of this world, there’s a lot more dark comedy to be found in what I’ve seen so far rather than in your face darkness, and in the absence of the ost and voice acting the show accustomed us to, the comics leave a lot more room to be read as you wile. To me, they’re goofier and more episodic in spirit.

This all is not a critique or rating on the comics.. It’s purely, I feel, why Zib stuck out to me all the more jarringly in his context. His reveal was a genuine twist that brought forth stakes higher than arguably any other threat in the entire franchise. He represents a plausible while horrifying prophecy of our main characters if only they made worse decisions. The most interesting of all, for every piece of amazing information he fed to us, he bred dozens more questions about everything than he answered, from Irken machinations, to his ambivalent backstory, to the secrets hidden by the sum of his parts.

Though he was left evidently alive at the end of his story, I don’t see any chance for him making a return, so he is memorialized as another defeated one-off the writers have brisked past and left behind for good. Therefore, I’m here today to take what we got and present it on the metaphorical autopsy table. I want to really pull apart why this character alone pulled me back into the TV series, really just flay open the bits I can’t get out of my own head and dig harder until we find something or we run out of threads to tug at. Starting with the one already hanging out of my mouth, but

• B.E.F

“Bad End Friend” is a term I learned the meaning of within the last 12 hours or so of writing this, and I’m exuberant over that discovery. It’s a niche trope i didn’t know ive been a giant fan of since I was a child. Summed up, fictional characters from beloved media, typically, animated child protagonists… given the worst case scenario treatment. Their “bad ending”, whether that means a corruption arc, demonic possession, a lovecraftIan tragedy… usually something that’s anywhere along the lines of a fate worse than death to a full villainous turnover. As a treat. The concept is strongly associated with fanworks and AUs of popular media, but just as often this is something that becomes explored in the source material as well. A couple great examples I know would probably be Ice Prince Finn from Adventure Time or what happens in Undertale when you decide you want to run the most depraved playthrough possible. From a more mature story, “Evil” Morty is another validly arguable sample.

Besides a bit of a fondness I got going for certain dark or spooky themes in general, what I REALLY love about canonical BEFs the most is their utility as characterization tools. They’re the “having your cake and eating it too” option! The perfect way for an author to explore certain things about any character without actually committing to well… a bad ending.

Almost always, they are necessarily hypothetical or reversible. If they’re not reversible, they go often hand-in-hand with a little universe tampering to make happen. Sometimes, this means the story goes the way of time travel and branching off butterfly effects. Sometimes it means confirming multiverse theory, which can be the same thing depending on your semantical position.

And Zib crossed off the BEF qualifications by far and away. His implications are extremely dark given any pause think about them, and he’s a living, disturbing tragedy in aftermath. If you want to view a rigamarole about that aspect of his characterization as he appeared in the comics, someone else long beat me to that and I’m enthusiastically recommending a peek at their own work. I’m thrilled to do so and build a little upon that with those extended what-if-wonders.

• Lessons From a Lost Episode

Elephant in the room I haven’t seen someone ask yet, uh..

By show rules, isn’t Zib supposed to be a clear case of the writers committing the sin of retcon? By show I’m including the unaired scripts, including “10 Minutes to Doom”. In that one we had what looked like the potential setup for a Zib case, and it was deconstructed across the whole episode.

In short recap, Dib learned the hard and reckless way about the true nature of what Irken PAKs actually are. This is not an inventory bag, it is not “gear”. It’s the actual Irken entity- at least, the primary component.

Detaching it from the organic shell essentially caused a temporary split into two instances of Zim, desperately trying to connect back together under threat of obliteration.

Like let me be very clear about this,

The PAK is an autonomous instance of Zim’s consciousness, and it’s the main one. We’ve seen it act to save his life when his body has been out cold or flatlined, and he doesn’t appear the least bit disoriented or confused once “he” wakes and jumps back into the action. There’s no known separate computer assistant AI or security autopilot in there. That code, that program, IS Zim. As Long as the PAK is active, he is capable of staying fully conscious and able to react to what’s happening around him, and that’s what we’ve been seeing, his own actions.

Zim proved me right when Virooz tried to replace him and detached the PAK. Take note of his phrasing after the chair event™.

“I” activated the protocol. Immediately after Virooz ran off with my shell.

“I” Voluntarily chose to do so.

I don’t remember it playing out like that in “10 Minutes to Doom”.

Attaching to a new host wasn’t the first reflex. Dib was not the least bit aware that that he has literally holding the actual Zim captive in sense, and the latter was fighting like a cornered animal to escape him. Failing that, alongside the distance between him and his original body growing fast, he made a last desperate gambit, and he willingly connected himself into Dib’s body.

I can see why he thought this was better than nothing, no matter how repulsive the notion might have been. If he couldn’t fend Dib off physically, he could incapacitate him in some fashion by trying to overtake his will. Maybe give the shell a better chance to catch up, maybe in the longshot hope of being able to pilot dib in order to become whole with the correct host again. And you can say he succeeded, at least in dominating bodily control away from Dib, but at the cost of his already tenuously held sanity. This could be because of the interference of Dib’s own mind still resisting to fully submit, or malfunctions because of the biological incompatibility; however, the thing that Dib mentally becomes is only the basic idea of what “Zim” is. Instead of remembering it needs to reunite with its shell ASAP, the PAK mistakes Dib’s body for its own and goes through the manic motions of following the Invader mission. And it does this, weirdly enough, with almost no regard for blowing its cover.

When things are set right again, Zim’s later words near the episode ending revealed that he knew that was an unsustainable state.

Such a risk was not just accounted for, he was actually banking on it if that clock had hit zero. If Zim had truly lost, if he was really doomed to meet his end on this nasty rock in the middle of Nowhere, Space, then by every damned circuit in his being, he was going to take down this insolent fool boy and as many other humans possible with him. A dying act of vengeful rage.

• The Exceptional… Exception

Now, wouldn’t all of this be the definitive reason for Zib’s existence to be an aberrant impossibility? Yes, but actually no. Fun thing about multiverses is if something doesn’t work in one setting, you can just tweak a few dials and suddenly you have a world where the impossible becomes possible. But that’s a pretty cheap answer, isn’t it? So, what exactly was that crucial difference?

What happened in Zib’s timeline that went down so, so divergently from the events of 10 Minutes to Doom?

Because the only one who was in any position to explain it for us was Zib himself, and he’s proven to be one of the most unreliable of narrators. It’s as @dana-chan-the-control-brain already spared no effort to demonstrate, when he does tell us something about his past, his story is pocked with contradicting half-truths or outright lies. Ergo it helps to break down each recount of events to pick out the real facts.

Version 1: This is an alternate version of dib who defeated his complementing Zim (logically sensible) and went on to achieve all of the success and respect he sought after in his timeline (absolute bullshit). He kind of gestures and only implies about what has happened to his body while explaining that he came to his current understanding of Irken technology by studying it through Zim’s lab (a partial truth). He lets slip in passing that he has in fact fused with the PAK in order to learn how to alter and reprogram its coding, lessons he has applied to Number 2 in order to have a brainwashed pawn (also apparently true).

Version 2, when cornered and red handed: This is an alternate version of Dib who managed to specifically stop Zim's mission (Again, makes sense) but somehow could not convince the world of his findings or his warnings about the Irken Armada (*VERY eyebrow raising). Frustrated with the people’s lack of cooperation, he decides he has no choice but to physically merge with Zim’s PAK post-mortem (concerning and evidently mostly accurate), dominate the Earth himself, and enslave humans to help him in his efforts (highly troubling and probably true). The construction of his EMP super-weapon is successful, but ultimately led to the creation of the Zimvoid when the device was field tested (self evident, absolutely horrifying).

You know what I noticed was missing from both of these accounts? Exactly how his Zim was defeated. Which honestly could have been some beyond useful wisdom to pass along to the main Dib??? More than anything else? I’m not going to fault our boy for not pressing that matter better under the awing circumstance; however, there’s an implication I’ve been reading between lines. 

When Zib mentions “defeating” his own Zim, he’s talking about something different than ours.

When our Dib has always talked about “defeating” Zim, he’s meant incapacitation and capture. Throughout the show he explicitly wants to present Zim before an audience alive and whole. Yeah, he fantasizes about other people torturing or disassembling him for study, but HIS role was supposed to be reaping the fame for an undeniable, ground-breaking discovery. Conspiracies and cryptids are all this kid breathes and lives by! And as long as pop culture has always been fascinated with the paranormal, and he has to know this full well, people keep bringing forward hoax after hoax after scam. I mean there’s a freaking current one or few still going IRL about this exact topic. Dib would want no room left for being dismissed as another one of those con artists. 

Nonetheless, I actually doubt this is the reason Zib couldn’t get through to the scientific community. A genuine alien lifeform, even a dead one, could still be confirmed by any basic medical examination. The world thinks Dib is too crazy to listen to, but his father is still Professor Membrane. In "10 Minutes to Doom" OUR Dib got as close as having Membrane literally analyzing a PAK, or at worst, preparing to. “Ultimate Dib” gets his hands on the same thing and pulls a move I’d expect from an HP Lovecraft Protagonist instead.

We’re assuming way too much to what these two Dibs have in common, because this ^^^ is really what made the Zimvoid an outlier in the multiverse. That world didn’t only have a very different, more threatening Zim from the main timeline, it had the Dib who proved even more formidable, cunning, and ruthless, even before the fusion. 

He didn’t obtain that PAK ala the “10 minutes to Doom” accident, it’s a personal trophy. This is extra strange remembering that capturing an Irken is realistically more easy than killing one. They’re seriously more tenacious than kudzu and will even fight back in PAK form alone. I’m convinced that whatever sort of final showdown made the Ultimate Dib the victor, there are two optional endings on the table.

Option 1: There was not a body even left intact enough to bring in to research. Maybe Dib’s fault, maybe an accident, maybe even Zim’s own luck running out and his incompetent antics finally swallowed him (and possibly GIR). This theory assumes that the PAK was the only sort of remains to come into Dib’s recovery/possession.

Option 2: Curiosity Killed the cat,

but satisfaction brought it back.

Or, the one I personally headcanon. Dib… all Dibs, I assume, don’t just hate the Irken species. They are mesmerized by them, and all that they represent from his perspective. Firstly, the epic villain he gets to roleplay nemesis to in order to feel his own worth and importance. Secondly, an unknown wonder from beyond the boundaries of the cosmos. He’s not really a ghost buster or a Men In Black agent at heart, but a scientist, like his father. Underneath his contempt for Zim’s plans to destroy the world is a genuine and appropriately childish awe for alien presence, especially for Zim’s technology. His silent, dopey smile when Tak’s ship ended up in his backyard said more than words ever will.. 

Earlier in the show, a great deal of Dib’s time and effort was spent on trying to infiltrate the lower levels of Zim’s base. Sneaking into the house was hard enough, but the computer security can’t be bypassed like the gnomes. Not even by Zim himself unless he really is all himself. Perhaps you’re starting to sniff where I’m going with this one when I refer back to “Bolognius Maximus”. I’ve another reference that’s a little more on the nose, and a lot more… dark.

Were an expired Irken husk before you, you too might take your victory and cash in then. Still, who knows what sudden impulse may run through the head of a less humble version of yourself, one some could call greedier, obsessive to a fault, a screw or two loose, yet, a hell of a smart cookie. Smart enough to see it for what it actually was, the keys to a whole world of discovery that went so many layers deeper than they could ever imagine. It’s possible the Ultimate Dib already learned beforehand the same hard lessons about the PAKs that our own did, and took that understanding toward not repeating the same mistake this time. What happened to Zim? I think he was murdered in cold blood, body, and entity. “10 Minutes to Doom” showed us a fight between 2 brains clinging to one body, struggling until one overpowered another, but that’s not what this is. Through whatever means of science were available to him, this Dib has probably tried to “disarm” the technology by either erasing Zim’s consciousness out of it altogether, or by forcing the autonomous code into a kind of dormancy. His intentions were to render it back to its basic hardware without losing its precious knowledge and usefulness, something like the brain-filled tank that was wired into Skrang’s head. Zim’s PAK doesn’t cling onto his body like a parasitic teratoma this time; it’s merged in a literal sense with his nervous and circulatory system. As well, he has fooled the device’s ability to detect and reject a foreign host shell, the exact same way he deceived the the base’s security AI. If an Irken biology is what these measures authorize to command them and their secrets, then he had the tools on hand to give them just that- in an atrocity I like to call

the darker harvest.

Within this theory, there is not as much room to wonder exactly what became of Zim’s organic remains. 

But where Dib fucked up was, for the second time, in his ignorance to the true nature of what he was even playing with. That was a mistake that even the mighty Elder Brains of Judgementia lost themselves to; How much more vulnerable was the weak, human mind? Though Zim can be devoured, he can never be digested. In that fact was born this aberration against nature, sanity, and humanity alike.

"Have you ever heard of insect politics? Neither have I. Insects… don't have politics. They're very… brutal. No compassion, no compromise. We can't trust the insect. I'd like to become the first… insect politician. Y'see, I'd like to, but… I'm afraid, uh… I'm saying… I'm saying I - I'm an insect who dreamt he was a man and loved it. But now the dream is over… and the insect is awake." - Seth Brundle, The Fly, 1986

By fusing what is half-mad and what is utterly mad, neither being was cured, only assimilated into the birth of a new madness. The madness of the creature that snickers behind the curtain in the Zimvoid. I rightfully fear that lonesome thing, but not I think as much as I pity him.

• Dejavu, or Re:Plagarism

One more thing about the Zimvoid arc I find curious is the way it makes you question more and more just how much of the aberration is actually still Dib, and how much of it is Zim's infection haunting him. He does nothing with all of his intellect, his resources, and his time in the void doing anything but surrounding himself in everything he claims he despises. He decries alien tyranny in one breath while lording over a homemade, cruel dictatorship in another. He calls for eradication of the very race who's technology and physiology he has thoroughly appropriated. He laments feeling unable to protect the Earth from the Armada alone, yet sneers literally through Irken teeth to insult humans as inferior and of no value to him any longer. Our Dib spent the whole damn show longing for the support of other people, but Zib pushes away potential allies in his arrogance. His broken timeline never became a Dibvoid instead because while only half of his mind can't stand Irkens, both of the souls inside him remember that they loathe and look down upon a Dib, deep inside.

The corruption goes as far as even subverting his own creativity. None of Zib's plans are wholly original. His anti-Irken weapon was already a concept blueprinted inside of that PAK before the merge. Our Dib has several times shown a propensity for some DIY ingenuity, sometimes dipping a toe into the supernatural. Zib entirely calls upon, scavenges and regurgitates Irken designs with a few modifications or upgrades. The Dib Virus, I think is his most uninspired creation yet, for it's original form was always something inside of Zim, even if the latter himself was not aware of the fact. Like all else, it is a weapon he has plundered, customized, and turned around on everyone else for his own selfish ends. This brief point I will end on one  more reflection. The one kind of help Zim ever allowed at his side were the likes of GIR and his own creations. Unable to connect and cooperate with his peers and own kind, his ego preferred to be around those defective machines he related to- drones to be owned by him and always loyally at his beck and call. A slave to admire him unconditionally is the only companionship he's ever been willing to admit to desiring.

And what was Number 2's purpose again? What role exactly were the arena combatants auditioning for, when you think about it?

[pack-the-pack]

✦Beta Pride Flag✦

(Yes images are still blurry, thanks again tumblr).

✦The meaning of the colours and shapes✦

✦ Green: Symbolizes Prosperity. Betas are the most prosperous of dynamics for they are the most numerous (when we talk purely on historical worldbuilding terms). But also they are prosperous in their personal lives too, being hard workers and deligent, Betas bring to themselves and their packs a lot of prosperity. Also represents amab Betas. ✦ Mint: Symbolizes Equality. Betas are known for being the most neutral dynamics (now whether this is true or not, or if it's a detrimental view or not is up for debate). What IS true is that Betas are the symbol of true gender equality. Whereas Omegas and Alphas are often pitted as being opposites and having power imbalances, Betas remain fair and true amongst themselves. And really shouldn't we all want the same? Also represents afab Betas. ✦ White: Symbolizes Pride. Pride in being a Beta is perhaps the most powerful of prides, because often they're overlooked or looked down upon and forgotten. But withour Betas we would not have the Omegaverse community we have today. ✦ Yellow: Symbolizes Sedulousness. Betas are by far the most hard-working and diligent dynamics when we talk about the years of A/B/O worldbuilding. But this is also true in real life. Most Betas I know are strong, obistinated, inovative and ambitious people. ✦ Gold: Symbolizes Community. Much like in the Miscecanis flag and the Alpha flag. Community is also a core principle for a Beta. Community is what makes the world go round. A lone wolf rarely goes far on its own. The gold represents the value a Beta has and also attributes to their pack. ✦ Purple: Symbolizes Unity. Unity as a community, as a dynamics and as a miscecanis community. ✦ Square: Symbolizes Strenght. Betas are historically the backbone, the pillars of society. Directly and indirectly. The Square is a strong, stable shape that symbolizes the base of the pack and of the rest of society as a whole. ✦ Three smaller stars + One large Star: Symbolizes The Dynamics. The four smaller ones symbolize Alphas, Omegas and other Dynamics as well as Dynamifluid people; And the largest star, meaning the most numerous (historically speaking when we talk about Omegaverse worldbuilding) is the Beta star.

I hope you guys like it, specially my Betas of course. You can check the other flags here:

Miscecanis Pride Flag. Omega Pride Flag. Alpha Pride Flag. Dynamifluid/Other Dynamics Pride Flag.

[skyward-floored]

one word prompts if you're still looking: "sedulous"! Which is just a really fun word to say

“What’s that book you’re reading there, Four?” Twilight asked, and Four’s mouth twitched as he looked up at him.

“It’s an enlightening tome, full of distinguished vocabulary and useful for such sedulous studies of which I myself enjoy,” he said with a gleam in his eye, “as well as a dirth of assistance in learning new colloquialisms and idioms.”

“...It’s the dictionary,” Legend snorted at Twilight’s confused look, and Four let out a laugh.

[capricorn-0mnikorn]

Immediately surrounding Mrs Musgrove were the little Harvilles, whom she was sedulously guarding from the tyranny of the two children from the Cottage, expressly arrived to amuse them. On one side was a table occupied by some chattering girls, cutting up silk and gold paper; and on the other were tressels and trays, bending under the weight of brawn and cold pies, where riotous boys were holding high revel; the whole completed by a roaring Christmas fire, which seemed determined to be heard, in spite of all the noise of the others. Charles and Mary also came in, of course, during their visit, and Mr Musgrove made a point of paying his respects to Lady Russell, and sat down close to her for ten minutes, talking with a very raised voice, but from the clamour of the children on his knees, generally in vain. It was a fine family-piece.

-- Persuasion, by Jane Austen (Chapter 15)*. Written in 1816, published December 20, 1817, with an 1818 copyright date.

This is Jane Austen describing a Christmas Present scene that Charles Dickens would describe as Christmas Past, in A Christmas Carol, just twenty-five years later.

And remember: in Dickens's novel, Scrooge represented the cultural norm of the day. And for a time scale in our own lives, 25 years ago was 1998.

Austen's novel centers around the end of the Napoleonic Wars, and how the influx of War Money was destined to change the structure of society. The Napoleonic Wars officially ended on November 20, 1815; there's an allusion to the signing of the peace treaty in overheard dialog at the end of the novel. Jane Austen died July 18, 1817, so it's not like she was writing about the changes in society with the advantage of hindsight.

The hindsight comes to us through Charles Dickens's later work.

It's sobering how quickly social norms can get "set in stone," especially when money and social hierarchy are in the mix.

*link goes to the Web e-text, at Project Gutenberg.