#we also all know how toxic such a workplace can be and she was a woman after all so take everything with a grain of salt | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

baldval · 5 months

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idk if u like writing him so if u don’t feel free to ignore!! but picture this, adam with a higher up reader with high authority that kinda acts like beelzebub?? like adam sees them for the first time and expects them to be all wholesome and kind but she’s actually just a hardcore party gal! which kinda matches his frat boy persona too🌚 and maybe she even resembles bee a bit? UP TO U! i just love ur writing and thought of this

-🎞️ anon

ALTITUDE!₊˚⊹♡

characters: adam x gn!reader

wc: 1.9k

warnings: cursing, mentions of one night stands

A/N: i'm sorry if i failed you in the whole party-fun!reader aspect i just went on a different direction and when i realised i like this a bit too much. hope you like it too anon!!!!! 🫶

You weren’t ever too sure about Adam. He just seemed a bit problematic, loud, interruptive, and he never took things seriously. Not that you were the chillest person on heaven, quite the opposite, but still, there was something about Adam that threw you off. You felt like that was all a faced. You knew that, when he wanted to, he could be kind, and was actually very enthusiastic regarding his job at heaven. Not that he would ever knowingly admit it. So when Sera partnered you two for a, quite important job, you didn’t know what to expect, or how to feel. At first you thought he might try to run the shop by not letting you contribute any of your ideas. He thought you were a tightass that would try to make everything boring (exactly what he said to Lute).

However, both of you were surprised once time went on, and you got to know each-other better. He realised you were actually quite fun, he might even say careless. He found himself in shock, and partially offended, when he realised you actually hosted parties every few weeks. You found out that he was deeply misunderstood. And actually really cute and charming. And you also promised to invite him to your next party, once you had finished the long task Sera had appointed you.

"Adam? Will you read that to me again?" You sat cross legged on the carpeted floor of Adam’s basement, chewing on the end of your click pen. Adam was too busy trying (and failing) to get basketballs on a net at the top of his wall to notice you’d called out to him. Dropping the pencil down on your notebook, you let out a frustrated sigh, standing to get his attention.

"Adam!"

Startled, he stopped short, turning towards you with his eyes wide in surprise.

"Yeah? You alright?" He asked, putting down the basketball and appearing in front of you.

"Yes Adam, I just wanted to get this part done," you explained, rolling your eyes in annoyance. “Besides, why do I have to work? I would also love to be able to play with that fucking basketball." It wasn't that Adam didn't work, he just got distracted easily.

"Ha! As if you could play." You felt deeply offended even though you knew you did NOT know how to play basketball.

"Wow. Just wow. I thought you would've known about my years in the angel's basketball team. I used to be one of the bests." You lied, trying to defend your dignity.

"As if! I was on the angel's basketball team. Never saw you there." "It must've been waaaay before you got in. I've been here for longer, you know."

"Alright then, prove it."

"Prove what?"

"Prove you can play." He handed you the ball and you held it.

"I'm a bit rusty." You smiled at him as you saw him grin. He could see right through you and your lies, what he didn't figure out was that you could also see right through him. So instead of shooting towards the net, you hit Adam with the basketball right on top of his head. Watching it bounce on it only to later hit the floor.

"Ouch! What the fuck was that for?" he ran his hand through his hair.

"Get to work or I'll hit you again."

"Hey! That's toxic workplace behaviour, I'm gonna have to report you now." You groaned in annoyance. "What will it take for you to work on this with me for an hour? Do we have to make a deal?" You joke with a light chuckle. Adam jumped at the opportunity to compromise, knowing that he could work if he really wanted to, and that the deal would then be in his favour.

"A deal hey?" He asks, resting his chin in his hands, looking up at you with sparkling eyes.

"Yes, whatever you want for 1 hour of your precious time," you scoff, picking up your pen again to work. As a higher ranking angel, you knew better than to be stubborn. You didn't mind having to sacrifice a little something. Besides, the end was in sight, meaning you wouldn’t have to deal with him for much longer - however, you struggled to admit to yourself that it would actually make you sad not hanging out with Adam as much as you were right now, worrying you would go back to the stranger treatment you had with each other before.

"I’m not gonna tell you until the hour is up," Adam teases, retrieving a book full of sinners' names for your work from the couch and opening it to a dog-eared page.

"Okay read it again for me, and this time slowly," you emphasise on the word “slowly”, watching him let out a small laugh, shifting on the floor to get comfortable.

"Okay, ready?"

"Yes, Adam."

"Okay," Adam takes a deep breath before beginning, you’re skimming over your notes, making sure all of them make sense. Adam tries to memorise some of the names before you write them, wanting rather to watch you work than have his eyes glued to the book.

Adam rests his hands in his lap, noticing the way your lips part and your tongue juts out only slightly when you concentrate. He notices you fiddling with the edge of your notebook, your fingertips grazing the spiral as it winds to bound the book. He notices how effortlessly pretty you are, and how committed you’ve been to this assignment. He thought it was so funny that you were so oblivious to his blatant staring. He suddenly lets out the breath he didn’t notice he was holding in.

"Adam?" You ask, the same annoyance bubbling inside you from when he didn’t pay attention before.

"Right," Adam shakes his head from his thoughts and returns to reciting the book.

You hadn’t noticed you’d leaned slightly into Adam, your shoulders brushing. Adam suddenly feels warm, his shoulder tingling where you were touching him. His heartbeat hammered in his ears as he licked his lips, readying himself to read the next part.

He thought of how cunning his side of the deal was, and how much more tempting it got the longer you touched him. It was a gamble, but it was one he was willing to take.

Adam rested his hand on his thigh, inching his fingers closer to your joined knees.

You look up at him, finally noticing how close the two of you had gotten, but doing nothing about the close proximity. Something felt different, the air was harder to breathe, and your stomach felt like it was housed by a million butterflies. His eyes shun as they looked into yours, your faces inching closer and closer.

Adam finished reading and silence filled the room, accompanied by the small pants of your breathing, you pulled your body away, sitting up straighter and looking more alert.

"Good reading Adam," you let out a small cough to cover the awkwardness that had just washed over you. Fuck, you were so close to kissing him, and you didn’t know why. You scowled at yourself for being so cliche, and put down your notebook. Adam bit his lip in a smile as your cheeks blushed red because he knew you’d felt that too.

"Okay, deal time?"

You know you asked for an hour, but a break right now didn’t seem so bad.

"Okay," you say, as he scoots his bottom across the floor to face you.

"One kiss," he says finally, your jaw swinging open in shock. A kiss? Was he serious? Did you hear that right?

"A kiss?" You repeat, chuckling. At first you thought it was a prank - classic Adam. However, his face was dead serious, as serious as you had ever seen him. You hadn’t read that Adam felt anything for you, the same way you hid having a big fat crush on him by being sort of mean.

"Come on, you know you want to." He teases suddenly changing his behaviour and body language as he realised he had been perhaps a bit too vulnerable for his liking. But you has already seen him. You knew his true intentions when he asked that and you knew they matched what you wantes, so why weren't you kissing him?

Your lips form a tight straight line as you contemplate your choices. Give up the tough guy act now and cave to your feelings, or don’t. It was like Adam was giving you the perfect opportunity to do what you always thought of doing.

"Okay, only one," you narrow your eyes at him as he gives you a curt nod.

“Of course, whatever the lady wants,” he sends a wink on your direction and you can't help blushing as you try to hide the redness with a laugh.

You lean forward, securing a small kiss on his cheek, almost too close to the corner of his mouth as it curled into a small smile. Your lips linger there for a moment, before you pull away, just slightly, your face still so close to Adam’s. You contemplate whether you should just go for it. But before you could decide what you wanted to do, Adam does it for you, connecting your lips in a soft, passionate kiss.

It takes you aback, but you compose yourself quickly, cupping his cheeks in your hands, as his secure to your hips. He pulls you closer, until you’re practically in his lap, straddling his hips with your thighs. His tongue prods at your lower lip, and without another thought, you open your mouth, letting his tongue explore where no one else has. The feeling was magical, and after all those nights you lay awake thinking of this moment, it finally came in full force.

You had to pull away with a gasp when Adam’s hand started to cup your bare ass under your shorts, your hands resting comfortably on his shoulders as you stared at each other.

"Fuck I’m sorry- I shouldn’t have-"

"No! It’s fine, I just, I... I kinda like you? Adam... And I mean, I don't care if you want to just fuck or whatever. But... I guess I just don't want that." you let out a nervous laugh, wanting so badly to crawl into a hole and die from your confession. "It's not you! Well, I guess it is you? I don't mind one-night stands, I just..." Adam interrupts you by letting a small laugh, the back of his hand coming up to caress your cheek.

"I get why you assumed that. I mean, I am THE Adam, THE original dick, why would I settle down?" You roll your eyes at his cockiness and his expression softens. "But I do like you. I like you just in the way that you said it, truly."

"Really?" You ask him, your voice only just louder than a whisper.

"Yeah! I mean- you’re so smart and pretty, and we’ve spent a lot of time together, I’ve enjoyed getting to know you, wouldn't mind getting to know you better. The whole of you" he moves his hand towards your waist.

“I’ve felt the same way,” you reply, pulling Adam in for a hug, resting your head in the crook of his neck. He holds you close, before you sit back down on the floor across from him.

“So… you think I’m pretty?” He asks, shooting you a cheeky wink. You roll your eyes again, letting out a small laugh.

#🎞️anon #hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel imagine #hazbin hotel headcanon #hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel adam #adam x reader #adam x you #cursed cat alastor #adam hazbin hotel #adam hazbin hotel headcanons #hazbin adam

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thepoparena · 6 months

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Thoughts on "Quiet on Set"

I imagine, being one of Youtube’s “Nickelodeon Content Creators”, you want to know what I thought. QUIET ON SET, the new four-part documentary detailing inappropriate behavior and abuse on the set of Dan Schneider’s various Nickelodeon shows, starts off on its worst foot, with all the earmarks of trashy tabloid journalism. A couple of gossip journalists walk us through events and interject how you’re supposed to feel about them. There’s one moment where Leon Frierson, former ALL THAT cast member, talks about how uncomfortable some of the costuming made him, about how the noses on a nose-themed superhero costume has some unfortunate phallic resemblances, and then we cut to a writer from Buzzfeed going “and then the sneeze gag is basically a cum shot joke!” Frierson never says that. In a later episode, a similar comparison is made to a gag on ZOEY 101, but there it’s actress Alexa Nikolas making that connection from the workplace environment she had found herself in. It’s an authentic observation, where in the earlier example it was outsider sensationalization, playing to the “crusaders” on Twitter and Tiktok where the public side of Schneider drama has mostly lived over the past decade. They bring on Marc Summers, Nickelodeon elder statesman who had virtually no presence in this era of the channel, for all of twelve seconds so that he can watch a clip of a Schneider show and go “oh, wow, they aired that?”

You can imagine how the producers' eyes must have lit up when they learned that Brian Peck, former Nick dialogue coach and convicted sex offender, owned a John Wayne Gacy painting. I mean, yeah, that’s fucked up, but it has virtually nothing to do with anything. It is, however, a perfect “can you believe this” moment that can be clipped and shared on social media for shock value. It’s something that the documentary can ride as a viral moment.

QUIET ON SET was produced for Investigation Discovery, whose bread and butter is schlocky true crime documentaries. Shows like EVIL LIVES HERE and WHO THE (BLEEP) DID I MARRY. Not exactly tasteful television. The channel is owned by Warner Bros Discovery, and was simultaneously released on Max. Warner Bros Discovery owns Cartoon Network. The documentary puts emphasis on Nickelodeon being on the top of the children’s cable game, and often brings up the Disney Channel as Nick’s main competitor. At no point is Cartoon Network mentioned, because, well, nobody wants to say their competitor is doing better than them, and saying you’re doing better than Nickelodeon would defeat the documentary’s narrative. My point is that I do not believe QUIET ON SET comes from a genuine place. It’s cheap schlock shock documentary filmmaking that wants to attract the same crowd who watch serial killer shows for fun. However. It’s also a space where a lot of people who were hurt during this time at Nickelodeon have come forward to tell their stories, and that pretty much nullifies all the gross exploitation elements present in the early parts. When these people start speaking for themselves, the documentary has no choice but to let them speak, and its more garbage instincts fade away. By the time Drake Bell starts telling his story, the gossip journalists all but vanish until the end, and there’s a stronger sensitivity to everything. The topics raised are harrowing. Workplace discrimination, sexual harassment, child abuse, sexism on set, racism on set, and general mispractice paint a meaningful picture of the toxic environment Nickelodeon was allowing at this time. The stories told by AMANDA SHOW writers Christy Stratton and Jenny Kilgen are infuriating. And then the sexual assault of Drake Bell by Brian Peck. Not an easy watch. It shouldn’t be an easy watch. What a fucking awful thing. It’s heartbreaking to watch. The documentary handles it with an unexpected tact and evenhandedness. It doesn’t excuse Bell’s later behaviors, and it allows Schneider to come off as one of the few adults who handled the situation correctly, even if the rest of the documentary is largely against him. I wish this had been the tone of the entire piece. QUIET ON SET is an important document of a terrible entertainment workplace. It’s a shame they dumped a bunch of trash on top of it. It’s not an easy watch, but it’s one of those things that’s going to be referenced to a lot over the years, and I hope that the people who make children’s television were learn the right lessons from it.

#quiet on set #nickelodeon

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cherryblossomchronicles · 6 days

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The revelation of Seok-Ryu's past was a gut-wrenching blow.

Going from the high of deciding to spend the rest of your life with your partner to realizing you might not even have the time for that must have been devastating for her. But then choosing to not tell your best friend about it, your family? It would have totally crushed her to go through all of that alone and put a strong front for them.

“It’s okay Seok-Ryu, it’s not a big deal.

I’ll get better. I’ll tell them after I get better.

It’s not a big deal, its nothing.”

As an elder daughter, Seok-Ryu had internalized the societal expectation that she should be the pillar of strength for her family. This pressure to always be "okay" had become so ingrained in her that she felt compelled to hide her struggles. Her reassurances to herself that "it's not a big deal" were a desperate attempt to maintain a facade of normalcy.

This is such a consistent thing with elder daughters in a family. We must have it all planned, we must be able to solve everything, survive anything that we prefer to tell anyone about our problems when we have already solved them. This habit becomes so ingrained in us that we stop telling people even about the things that we should.

“I’m going to worry about a recurrence next year and the year after that.

Even if I remain in complete remission for five years, I won’t be completely free.

I’ll always be near death’s door. I am going to feel a little anxious and sad.

That’s how my life’s going to be.”

This is the life of a cancer survivor. Even if you’ve risen triumphant from the battle, war is not yet done – rather your entire life is now a war. You can’t rest it easy. Stress, anxiety and fear will constantly dog your steps and make a home in your routine. This is what Seok-Ryu’s reality look like with her mental health taking a steep nosedive due to her physical health. She had to let go of so many aspects of her life to deal with her new reality. All this while she was also dealing with her slowly crumbling relationship with Hyeon-Jun.

When she could finally let go of that threads tying her back to the toxic part of her life and decided to come home, she realized there is another battle that she must face – lying to everyone she loves day-in and day-out. And she did, pretended that everything is fine, that things didn’t work out for her, that she had burnout – that she came back due to workplace harassment. Everything was acceptable but the truth. That little nugget was something that no one could know about. For all the problems, scorns and disappointment that she had to face and go through, the reality of the hellscape her life turned to was known only to her and she was happy in that escape. Even if she had to pretend, make herself sick, avoid the situations and deny herself the things she wants, if she could believe that everything is back to normal for few moments – all of it would be worth it.

“That’s why I don’t need love anymore.

The stomach I have left can barely handle digesting my dream.”

In all this, one thing that made me immensely sad was her decision that she and her situation is the problem. What happened with Hyeon-Jun made her think that no relationship would be able to survive the stress that comes as a complimentary gift of being with her. And she? She swore off it. Everything is acceptable in her books, everything, but ruining her friendship with Choisseung.

She knows he likes her, she also remembered that she liked him first, in their past but she would rather be selfish and keep Seung-Hyo in her life as her friend. At least with it comes a guarantee that even if he gets angry, mad or furious with her, it’s all temporary. That their friendship is made of sterner stuff to crumble under this pressure. She can’t say the same about relationship and repeating the slow death of a relationship like the way she experienced is the last thing she wants to do. Especially when the person in question is someone, she holds very dear.

Having decided upon the truth about being with her, she went ahead to turn him down as gently as she could, crushing any hope while also trying to preserve as much of their friendship as she could.

Seok-Ryu wants. She wants to be happy. She wants to not have to worry. She wants to cook for a living. She wants to see her parents happy. She wants to see Seung-Hyo successful. But more than that – she wants to keep seeing that smile on his face and she knows being with her is the fastest way to lose it.

#Seok-Ryu – darling - you’ve suffered enough. Now time for you to get all that love you think you can’t digest #I just want to wrap her up in a blanket and get her all the love and care that she deserves #love next door #kdrama #bae seok ryu #jung somin

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brian-in-finance · 10 months

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Photo: Patch Bell

Outlander and Karen Pirie star Lauren Lyle on her self-belief and taking the leap to pursue her dream

Nominated for two awards at the Scottish Baftas this evening, Lauren Lyle promises it will be a celebration no matter the outcome.

The Glasgow actress has grafted hard to enjoy a remarkable rise over recent years, headlined by her first leading role in Karen Pirie, the acclaimed St Andrews-set crime drama based on Val McDermid’s novels.

Next year is set to be the 30-year-old star’s biggest yet, with several leading roles in film and TV, including a second series of Karen Pirie, so now seems like a good time to pause and look back on her career so far.

“I moved to London at 19 and if I’d told myself then that I’d have my own TV show, had done one of the biggest shows in America (Outlander) and would be working all the time, I don’t think I would have believed it,” she smiled.

“I would have thought I’d needed to have done something terrible to have got here, but I just worked really hard. I’m working on a show called Toxic Town for Netflix, which has Rory Kinnear and Jodie Whittaker in it, and I asked both what their secret is. They said they didn’t know, they just keep working, and they’re testament to doing great work and not trying to be famous.

“Rory told me he always wanted to be known for being good, and I’m the same. I’m trying to pick good things and be in quality stuff, things that excite me and getting to work with good people.

“I came to London to audition for drama schools and came close but didn’t get in. I think I’d only been to London once before as a kid but didn’t remember it. I was so hungry for it, and being around other actors in this world was so thrilling and I knew this was what I wanted to do and the place to do it.”

Taking the plunge

Lauren moved into a shared house with four people she hadn’t previously met. She took on several jobs to pay the bills while trying to engineer a break, joining a theatre company and eager to learn.

Photo: Patch Bell

“It was a risk but I put my head down and grafted hard,” she said. “I think I’ve always had deluded confidence that I can do something. My mum is a school PE teacher and I was a gymnast and runner and I’ve always been competitive to win the race, but that’s not helpful at times because there isn’t a finishing line or right answer here; there’s lots of different ways to do this, so I’ve had to put those feelings aside at times.

“I had a big agent for about a year before I got a job, and then two came within two or three weeks of each other – Outlander and Broke, with Sean Bean – and my life changed. I did my tax return for that year and realised I’d done about six jobs – dog walker, flyering, receptionist, in Zara’s stock room for 18 months. Random stuff that I did for ages.

“It was bleak at times but I loved going to the theatre and seeing this life dangled in front of me. It was quite inspiring.”

Karen Pirie

Lauren’s recurring role as Marsali in Outlander was her break, while BBC thriller Vigil, where she played activist Jade, introduced her to a different audience. When Karen Pirie came along last year, she felt ready.

“I’m so proud to be part of the show. It was so well made, beautifully shot, and with a crew who were hungry to be there. It was my first lead and I had creative control around what she looked like and who she was,” Lauren explained.

“The director, Gareth Bryn, writer Emer Kenny – who also executive produced – and myself were constantly in conversation. We all had such a brilliant time, and it was a story that meant something and said something of young women.

“It was about a young woman trying to solve a crime about another young woman, so Karen knew what it’s like to be afraid to walk home alone at night, and how a young person can be underestimated in the workplace and how difficult it can be to prove themselves.”

Photo: ITV

Based on Val McDermid’s novel The Distant Echo – about the cold case investigation of a 19-year-old woman’s death which is reopened and given to DS Karen Pirie after a podcast cast doubt on the original investigation – it was a Sunday night hit for ITV last year.

“Val has been complimentary and incredibly supportive of me,” Lauren continued. “She had to sign off on me playing the character. I was worried if she would be happy with the Methil accent. She visited the set and I prepared myself, but she said I was very good.

“She messaged me on Twitter when the awards nominations were announced and congratulated me and said we would need to go for a drink. I’d love to have a drink with her – I’m sure she would have some great stories!”

Scottish Baftas

The drink will be flowing this evening at the Scottish Baftas in Glasgow where, in addition to Lauren’s two nominations, Karen Pirie is also in the fiction director and scripted television categories.

“The show came out too late for the 2022 awards, but it’s nice that we’ve since announced a second series. We have a big Karen Pirie table. My parents are coming – my dad has a new velvet jacket to go with his tartan troos – as is my boyfriend, who is South-African-Australian, but we’ve recently discovered he has lots of Scottish heritage, so he might wear a kilt, and my agent will be there, too.

“Everyone is dead excited and the whole team is there to celebrate.”

Lauren’s nomination in the Audience Award category sees her vying with Brian Cox, Lewis Capaldi, Tony Curran, Hamza Yassin and Meryl Williams.

“To be in a category with Brian, Lewis and the legend that is Meryl from The Traitors, I feel that’s the only time in my life this will happen. I’m tempted to say to Brian that if he ever needs me to play his granddaughter or daughter, I’m here. Someone should cast us all as a family.”

New projects

With a second series of Karen Pirie expected to start shooting early next year and a rumoured return for the final series of Outlander – “we may be talking, who knows” is all Lauren will say – 2024 will be another busy one for her.

She will follow up her first starring role in a movie, Mercy Falls, which was released earlier this month, with another two movies to be released next year – thriller Something In The Water and The Outrun, with Saoirse Ronan and Jack Lowden.

Photo: Robert Wilson / Starz

“We filmed Something In The Water in the Dominican Republic. It’s like Bridesmaids but a thriller. The Outrun was filmed on Orkney. Saoirse and Jack saw me in Vigil and asked if I’d be part of this film, which is the first from their production company.

“I had to get the Orkney accent just right. At the first read-through, Amy Liptrot, the writer of the book it’s based on, said it needed to be a bit less Shetland and a bit more Orkney, so I went away and made sure it was right.

“Everyone was so welcoming on Orkney. The beaches were ridiculous. I was stung by a weever fish, which apparently is an unusual thing to happen. My foot was on fire for a day.

“I’ve also been making Toxic Town, a new series for Netflix which is about the Corby poisonings, one of the UK’s biggest environmental scandals, which no-one really knows about. It’s about mothers in a David vs Goliath battle for justice, and I’m wearing lots of ‘90s and ‘00s power suits.

“As well as Jodie and Rory, it has people like Aimee Lou Wood from Sex Education, Joe Dempsie from Skins, Claudia Jessie from Bridgerton, Michael Socha from This Is England, and Robert Carlyle, who is the nicest man in the world.”

Shooting in Scotland

Despite living in London, Lauren finds many of her jobs are being shot in Scotland, which she’s happy to see.

“Nowhere looks like Scotland and a lot of productions are coming here for that reason,” she added. “It’s really cool to see it happening and it’s a testament to the quality of workers you get here.

“Plus, it gives me a free trip home to see my family.”

Photo: Stuart Wallace / Shutterstock

At last year’s Scottish Baftas, Dunkirk and The Gold actor Jack Lowden spoke glowingly about Lauren Lyle.

The pair have since become friends and colleagues, and Lauren is keen to support new talent coming through in Scotland just as Jack did with her.

Speaking about this evening’s Scottish Baftas, Lauren said: “Me and Jack were talking about how great it is to get a lot of Scots in a room to congratulate each other, all these people doing well from this proud place, on international stages representing our country, heritage and culture, which we’re so proud of.

“It’s a great opportunity to shake everyone’s hands and say ‘aren’t we an amazing team?’

“I want to know who the other young people are. We’d like to be able to speak to the younger Scottish actors and welcome them in. Jack did that with me – talking about me, being supportive and asking me to be part of his film. I don’t know if we’d met at the point he spoke about me at the Scottish Baftas. I was very flattered.

“He and Saoirse have been really cool and supportive, and I hope to do the same at some point. With season two of Karen Pirie coming, I message its writer, Emer Kenny, and tell her to keep an eye out for this guy and this girl.”

Remember… she will follow up her first starring role in a movie, Mercy Falls, which was released earlier this month, with another two movies to be released next year – thriller Something In The Water and The Outrun, with Saoirse Ronan and Jack Lowden. — The Sunday Post

#Tait rhymes with hat #Good times #Karen Pirie #The Sunday Post #Digital #17 November 2023

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meepetteoneonly · 2 months

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Snakes and Ladders: I.

Also on AO3 - here.

Chicago has Al Capone, New York has Lucky Luciano and Baldur's Gate has Mephistopheles Cania. However, the don is dying of cancer and the struggles for power between families of Baldur's Gate as well as within Cania's family are inevitable. His son, Raphael, is ready sit on his father's throne, but he needs allies to carry out his ambitious plans. As it wasn't enough, he has to deal with a new magistrate, Astarion Ancunín, who seemed not to respect the established order of things. Maybe Astarion's assistant, court clerk Octavia, could help him to dig some dirt on Astarion.

Raphael, Tav, Astarion, (she) Harleep, Gortash, Nine-Fingers Keene and Mol (as an adult) in bloody mess of a story set in mafia AU.

TW:

Hunger, childhood in poverty, sexual harassment, toxic workplace

NOTE:

First of all, I would love to point out the great piece of fanfiction - the Fatal Interview by cravengaffer which inspired me to write this. Go and read it. It's brilliant!

Now to the rest. I allowed myself some freestyle with this whole concept of magistrates as we lack this institute in continental law. And to be honest, I don't know that much from common law. So bear with me, please.

As to some possible TW's in this chapter. Sexual harassment at the workplace. And I mean it! Mind the warnings and tags, I beg you.

The golden sign announced third floor and Astarion hopped out of the paternoster lift. He wondered whether it is possible to escape this monstrous machine with at least little bit of elegance, but luckily, the hallway was empty and so the clumsy stumble he performed while getting of the lift remained secret of his and walls of Department of Administrative Offenses of Baldur’s Gate District Court, the Lower City bureau.

Astarion Ancunín was assigned as a magistrate to the court three months ago and so far, the judges were satisfied with his performance. He delivered the decisions on time, cases did not pile up on his desk, he work effectively with prosecutors and not many of his decisions were subsequently challenged. His supervising judge even described him as a remarkable newcomer in the report for the District Court Council and Astarion felt rightfully proud.

He quickly checked his watches. He was a little early today. As he was walking through the labyrinth of long dark corridors to his office, Astarion missed the distinctive sound of justice machinery. He enjoyed listening to the rhythmical clicking of typewriters, ringing of the phones and the hum of everlasting discussions over various legal issues. But the court building has not woken up yet.

Astarion’s office was located in the right wing. He would appreciated an office with functioning heating, but in the end, he was glad for what he got as the windows of the left wing offices were just above the old cemetery while his own had a view on the waterfront. The building of the court faced busy crossroad that served as a main traffic artery connecting the docks and industrial part of the city with polished streets leading to the city centre. He hoped to be assigned to the Upper City bureau as it was required that magistrates lived in their court’s jurisdiction, but so did other newly appointed magistrates. Unfortunately, the public secret was that places at Upper City bureau were reserved for those with relatives or friends at right places. Astarion had none of those. Not yet, he kept reminding himself.

The familiar cold welcomed him as he opened the door No. 341. He had tried to request the repair of the heater several times, but the court administration only informed him that due to the new budgetary rules, expenses on repairs and maintenance should be cut to the minimum necessary. In other words, he survived three months, he can do it until spring. Astarion knew well how it is with public finances. No public body will invest into anything that still somehow works and courts was no exception. No matter how rusty or slow the gears of the justice were, as long as they were spinning, there was no need for extra funding.

He put off his coat and took a moment to enjoy the view on the river. Hazy morning light was slowly diluting the dark, sweeping it out of the gaps between the cobblestones covering the riverbank. Patches of fog still remained on the water surface that mirrored bright orange lights of sodium lamps. The usual buzz of the city was just about to start. Such tranquil moments were something Astarion was not used to. But he enjoyed them. Or rather he felt like he should be enjoying them. But when he was alone, when there was no view to admire or another offense to be punished, he felt that time he was mercifully granted to enjoy what he has achieved so far, was running between his fingers. No matter how much he tried, he couldn't help but hear the ominous ticking of clockwork oiled by his parents’ words: There’s no such a thing as better life. Not for people like us. Don’t be naive.

He took his parents for fools who confused naivety with ambitions. Astarion was never naive. He accepted world as it was, played with cards he was given and he considered himself to be good at it. At least, compared to his parents. Those poor wretches were barely scraping along their entire life, toiled themselves for few cents a day and for what? To live a humble but honest life? To truly believe that money does not matter as long as they have each other? To raise him to be a good man? That was a naivety. Money ran the world and only the poor kept telling themselves otherwise. Parents' love won't feed a hungry child and that was a fact.

His parents died two years ago and Astarion haven’t visited their grave since that pathetic gathering he hesitated to call a funeral. He was convinced they didn’t deserve his visit. However, he often caught himself thinking about them lately. What would they think of his new job? What would they think about their son being a magistrate? They would be proud, Astarion was sure of it, but also, they would add that manual work is nothing to be ashamed off. And they called him naive.

Few cars passed under the court’s windows. Clumps of fog disappeared, uncovering the freezing mass of deep green water. Lights reflection faded. First steps of court employees resonated outside the door. In thudding march of oxfords and derbys, he recognized the high-pitched clacking of heels. That must be Octavia, he thought immediately. No other magistrate on this floor had woman assistant. Blond curls that appeared in the doors few moments later proved him right.

„Morning.“ She greeted him as she was shedding layers of coat, scarf and knitted shawl one by one, followed by thick mittens. She exhaled into her palms and rubbed them to bring her numbed fingers back to life.

„So they were right with the predictions, for once. I’ve read it will be snowing this week.“ He said while going through the calendar at his desk. He seemed not to give Octavia much attention, his eyes focused on red circled dates, but secretly, he traced the curves of her hips as she was digging through new case files she brought from filing office. Those round lines stretching the fabric of her skirt, they almost begged to be squeezed.

She responded with silent nod. Octavia wasn’t talkative one and it annoyed Astarion beyond belief. For most of his life, the only fortune he had was his face, his charisma and the ability to sweet talk any woman even into things she wouldn’t herself want. To Astarion’s disbelief, Octavia was somehow resistant to his charm. She appeared so unapproachable he actually lowered himself to talk about weather with her.

„One appeal against parking ticket. Another one…. and another one…“ She counted. „All of them from that parking lot at Sundries.

He sighed. „Don’t tell me they printed passes with wrong dates again. Is it that hard to set the printing machine right?“

„It seems like it. I’ll take care of it.“ Octavia said and took decision forms from the shelf.

As much for conversation, Astarion thought. Octavia was always doing a great job. She was assistant any magistrate or judge would want. Focused, practical, hard-working. He inherited her from the retired magistrate he replaced and she was the reason why he found his way around the new position so quickly. But she paid a little too much attention to the cases, almost none to him.

He often caught himself thinking about her. He imagined himself rolling that skirt of hers up, slipping his hand under it, brushing the helm of her stockings with his fingertips, sliding a finger or two between her legs. She never mentioned any boyfriend and there was no ring, so a little office hookup wouldn’t hurt anyone, would it? But Octavia ignored any flirt attempt of his and it made Astarion wonder whether it’s purposeful or if she just doesn’t get it.

The morning went just as any other. Post came at nine. Octavia made them coffee at ten. Astarion enjoyed his while reading Baldur’s Mouth Gazette. Octavia took a sip anytime she needed to return the carriage of her typewriter. It was half-empty and cold by twelve when Astarion usually went for a lunch. So far, she refused all invitations to join him.

Once he was out of the sight, Octavia gave herself a pause too. She finished the coffee and lit herself a cigarette. She was a slow smoker, enjoying each drag she took, letting tobacco to sooth her nerves. As much as she didn’t want to admit it, working with Astarion was draining. Although he wasn’t that nitpicking type who would reproach her for erroneous double space or simply different style of expression, and she knew those, his demeanor forced her to be on constant alert. One would say it is easy to ignore someone. Pretending she misheard his hitting and teasing, acting like she didn’t know about his stares he was so convinced that are inconspicuous. It was not. It was an act and she had to stay at the stage for too long periods of time.

Octavia threw the butt into an ashtray and lit herself another. Sometimes, she wanted to run away. From everything. There was a tiny voice inside of her screaming, punching her innards, kicking and fighting. But she learned to ignore it. The last thing she wanted was going back home and this job secured that she didn’t have to.

Astarion usually got back from lunch around one in the afternoon, but this time, it was a Mrs. Hanford from filing office who appeared at the door.

„Octavia! I’m glad to see you, sweetie! Is magistrate Ancunín here?“ She asked, interrupting Octavia’s flow of thoughts. Two older women were working in the filing office. One insufferable shrew that Octavia couldn’t stand and this lovely lady with silver hair and voice always so cheerful. How they managed to sit together in the same office was a mystery.

„No, but he’ll be back anytime soon.“ Octavia said.

„This just came from the Tax Administration.“ Mrs. Hanford put a file accompanied by an official letter on Astarion’s desk. „They need a warrant to search some warehouse. The sooner, the better I suppose.“ She shrugged her shoulders.

„All right. Just leave it here, I’ll tell Mr. Ancunín it’s urgent.“

„Thank you, sweetie.“ She smiled. „But tell me, how are you doing?“

„Could be better, but I manage.“ To her own surprise, Octavia appreciated the care. Not so long ago, Mrs. Hanford found Octavia crying in bathroom and since then, she was casually checking on her, asking how she is from time to time. It scared Octavia at first. But when she couldn’t sense anything wrong in Mrs. Hanford’s intentions, she just let her do her mother hen job.

„If he’s pissing you off, just kick him right into the balls, girl!“

Octavia had no idea whether she was talking about Astarion or some Octavia’s alleged boyfriend. Clearly, Mrs. Hanford was from the generation that thought there was a man behind all the women's woes. „Don’t worry, I’ll do.“

Octavia’s answer earned Mrs. Hanford’s approving nod. „Mind giving me one, sweetie?“ She asked when Octavia tapped the burned tobacco from her cigarette away.

„Please, serve yourself.“ She offered her Camels.

Mrs. Hanford met Astarion at the door on her way out. Maybe it was just Octavia's imagination, but it was almost as if she subtly pursed her lips in a disgust when she passed him.

Octavia crushed the only half smoked cigarette out. „Tax Administration needs some search warrant.“ She explained as Astarion could barely hide a surprise when he spot the file. „I am not authorised to issue one.“

„Well, you are still authorised enough to draft one.“ He said. „Anyway I’ll take look at that. But you know, you didn’t have to stubbed it out, hm? I think it could be nice to have a cigarette together before digging back into it.“

Octavia stayed silent.

„I mean, it wounds me, really.“ He dramatically touched his chest, feigning hurt. „It's impossible to get you to lunch, let alone a drink after work. I though we were colleagues, maybe even friends and yet, here you are, having a smoking pause with Mrs. Hanford instead of me.“

She let out an exhausted sigh and get up to wash her mug. „Maybe I prefer less dramatical company.“ She mumbled.

Octavia knew she should have stayed silent, ignoring him just as usual. Astarion could bend any word, twist the sense of whatever she said in no time and easily caught her in a loop of banter he confused with flirting. She preferred no to give him anything he could grab onto.

„Well, than we can set the drama aside, can’t we? As well as our clothes while we are at it.“ He chuckled and stepped into her way. There was an uncomfortable glint of desire in his eyes. She stiffened for a moment but recoiled quickly as he reached out, his fingers brushing against her arm.

„Don’t you do this.“ Her features hardened. Yes, silence is golden…

It was the first time he managed to squeeze a reaction out of her. Completely unfazed by her rebuke, Astarion grinned. „Oh come on, Octavia, don’t be like that. I haven’t even done much of thing.“

„And that’s for good.“ She spat out and left to find the furthest sink possible. Just kick him right into the balls, girl! Octavia never wished to do so more than now. But she also wanted to keep her job.

With Octavia out of sight, Astarion’s attention turned back to the warrant request.

The information provided in the file suggested a large number of imported alcohol stored in one of the warehouses in the docks for which the customs weren't paid. The customs that amounted into a considerable sum. No wonder it made the tax watchdogs salivating, Astarion smirked. The case was pretty self-explanatory, really. But it didn’t seem to be enough to allow the tax officers to raid the warehouse and seize the stuff. Right to privacy applies even to commercial premises as well, after all. Was there enough evidence to start the administrative proceedings? Certainly. But to issue the warrant to let them in? Astarion didn’t think so. Not that he cared for constitutional rights of the whoever those bottles belonged to that much (there was only a legal entity mentioned), but he wasn’t exactly thrilled with the idea allowing the search of the warehouse only for it to be later found illegal. Fruit of the poisonous tree doctrine helped those otherwise guilty even in more serious cases.

As he went though the file, he doubted the sanity of people who chose the tax law to be their main area of practice. Financial law could be interesting. Sometimes. Shares, capital transactions, banking, monetary politics, that he thought might be entertaining. But taxes? Duties? Customs? It bored the soul out of his body. He yawned as he turned another page. There was an envelope covering the extract from the log book. That served him better than afternoon coffee, sending the curious shivers down his spine.

Usually, envelopes in which post serving as an evidence came in were kept in the files, but this one was plain, with no description and most importantly, sealed. Astarion reached for the envelope, checking the doors. Octavia was still sulking somewhere, maybe chattering in the filing office. The letter knife sunk into the paper, gutting the envelope of its secrets. There was a letter together with pack of banknotes. God, Astarion gasped. His stomach felt suddenly heavier, his palms got sticky. But he shook the quiver of anxiety off, checking the doors once again. No signs of Octavia. He opened the letter:

Dear Judge Ancunín,

I deeply regret the retirement of your predecessor. However, I believe that your appointment maybe the beginning of significant change in the order established in Baldur’s Gate.

Please accept my gift as a token of goodwill. Let this be also an opportunity for you to make me a little favour out of your friendship. I would appreciate it if a warrant requested could be issued. As soon as possible.

With the kindest regards,

your Friend.

There was no clear signature, of course it wasn’t. Instead, there was a scribble that looked like a crescent how would Picasso draw it or an aggressive try to write out a new pen.

Astarion read the whole letter again, turning it up and down, even holding it against the window. He felt ridiculous doing it. But there was nothing more to it. No mysterious message. Simply, it was just a polite side dish a to a main meal - the money. Astarion didn’t risk to count the exact sum, but just from the looks of it, it was a lot. Probably more than he ever earned a month. Even as a magistrate.

As a steps echoed from the corridor, he quickly stuffed everything back and closed the envelope in a drawer. This time, he appreciated Octavia’s heels for completely different reasons.

For the rest of the afternoon, Astarion was suspiciously quiet. Octavia didn’t have high hopes he actually realized his actions earlier were far behind the line of what was considered appropriate at the workplace (at least in her opinion), but whatever was the reason of his mouth being shut, she appreciated the silence. Fact that Astarion left earlier today was just a cherry on top. The only thing missing to perfection was a functioning heater.

Astarion managed to took the envelope out of his drawer without Octavia noticing anything. If it wasn’t stuffed with money and incriminating letter, he would never paid that much attention to the stealthiness of his movements and his back wouldn’t get covered in fresh sweat anytime he overheard Octavia’s clacking and clicking stop. It was a second. Open the drawer, take out the envelope, put in the bag. But it felt like ages.

Once this peculiar task was done, he put the coat on and rushed from the office, waving Octavia goodbye with a simple „Need to get out earlier today.“ She hummed something in return.

Astarion would swear all the eyes he passed by on his way to an exit saw straight trough him. Normally, he loved those little small talks with court staff, especially the judges, but this time, he avoided an eye contact with anyone he met. Just don’t talk to me, just don’t… At least, he had perfect knowledge of what shoes are currently the most worn at Lower City bureau.

The neoclassicist interior of the court building merged into blur of granite and tiles. He took the stairs by two, not stopping at the first floor to soak up the atmosphere of humongous hall covered by the glass ceiling, connecting three galleries lined with thick pillars. They called the hall a „pool“. This time, he preferred not to swim there.

As he pushed the heavy door at the exit open, he expected anything. A police cordon, detectives hidden behind the pillars of the court’s portico, a car with masked men ready to make him a strainer. But only a freezing cold awaited him outside. It calmed him down. He could feel his heart rate dropping. A false picture of reality induced by piking cortisol and adrenalin vanished. Just a moment before, he believed someone - somehow - will take him straight to the jail. Contrary to the fact that he knew very well it doesn’t work like that. Now he was just an ordinary man heading home from work a little earlier. Just an ordinary man who will soon disappear in crowds in the Lower City’s streets. No one to care about. No one to pay special attention to. Just an ordinary man with a bribe in his bag. He smiled.

Astarion didn’t live far from the court. Few stops by the streetcar, but he could simply take a walk. He decided for the later. Being just one of the particles of the usual city rush soothed him. The anonymity provided him with the sense of safety. On his way, he was taking a quick looks into the storefront he usually ignored. Slowly, he started to think how could he spent the money. If he issues the warrant and takes it. He could use a new suit - tailor made, of course. Facemaker’s, preferably. As well as a fine pair of shoes. He could also spend an adventurous night in the most prominent bars and clubs in the city. He never has been in the House of Hope, the one where unimaginable sins became reality and social elite striped its golden platting, revealing itself just as dirty as anyone else. Or so the rumors were.

If he issues the warrant and takes the money. Yes, the pesky question of moral still needed to be resolved.

His thought were swinging back and forth, so he completely ignored one of his neighbours greeting him when he passed the post boxes on the ground floor of the building his apartment was located in. It gained him a nasty comment on the arrogant attitude of young people, but he ignored that too. Firstly, he wasn’t that young. Secondly, as if he cared. The arrogance might be overall considered a bad trait, but it shielded him from those who just wanted all the others to be as miserable as them. It takes a little arrogance to achieve something. And even more to achieve something big. He was proudly arrogant and had no plan to change it.

His apartment was nothing like he wished it to be. He dreamed of a penthouse in one of the Upper City’s skyscrapers, furnished with modern, functional pieces made of dark, polished wood and decorated with lavish wallpapers rich in colours and patterns. His heart ached for one of those glass-top coffee tables from Miller’s catalogue. He often basked in imagination of himself standing high above the city, untouched by the ordinary life and dirt and misery of common folks. With a glass of vintage red. With a curves such as Octavia’s rising under the silken sheet in his bed, waiting for him. He deserved such a life, did he not?

Instead, his apartment was quite simple. Plain. Tasteless. Old furniture that remembered the last tenant, not-well-maintained parquet floor, kitchen with terrible corn cob wallpaper. A kitsch. But it was the court’s apartment, one of those rented out to judges and magistrates and therefore, he only had to pay the half of the rent. Something at least.

He threw the keys to the bowl next to the door and than fall into the armchair in the living room. Immediately, he reached for the envelope and began to count the money. He didn’t even put his coat off. Every other green paper that passed through his fingers only raised his curiosity. He counted it over and over to be sure, but finally he find out the sum to be three times his monthly salary plus something extra. God… He has never seen such a sum before. And yet, it was there. Right in front of him. Material. Real. Tempting.

It was far more than he originally expected. More than he would need for new pieces of clothing and night spent in the city’s nightlife vortex. He could easily invite Octavia for a dinner at Yenna’s Table or Chez Dekarios and secure her attention with some glamorous gift. Roses. Nice jewell. A little shopping spree. Anything a creature like her could dream of. No woman would refuse the invitation to Chez Dekarios, wouldn’t she? And Octavia, despite her bright mind and aloof facade, was just a woman. If she is resistant to his charm, if he can’t gain her interest naturally, he will buy it. Money open both, doors and legs. What if she’s just a little gold digger, so cleverly hidden behind her typewriter, awaiting the right opportunity to bag some of the court’s bigger fishes? Was she making all the fuss about his innocent proposals because she has him for a beggar? She didn’t seem to be that type, but it would explain why she doesn’t care about him at all. He smirked and put the money back to the envelope, taking the letter once again.

In any way it wasn’t suggesting who was the sender. Astarion could only wonder who disguised himself with such a polite words. He had just a common knowledge of the Baldur’s Gate underworld, not much deeper than anyone else in the city. Mainly, it was based on rumours and exaggerated newspaper headlines. There were several (allegedly) criminal families pulling the strings and various groups of their puppets. Local gangs, dealers, traffickers, thieves, pimps - all of those were just an end of the thread going up to those who held real power. Could this be the case? Will he appear on the payroll of someone of the great and good of Baldur’s Gate? Maybe he just let his fantasy of leash. Anyone could be behind the letter in the end. In the moral equation he faced he could not, therefore, calculate on the question of whom he would piss off if he won’t decide as requested. The only variable was his morals, then. He felt trapped.

If he takes the money, it won’t be the first time he will do something morally disputable. He wasn’t new to the grey zone between socially acceptable and deplorable, not at all. But this time, he lacked the excuse that would hush his conscience.

When he was a child, he had to steal from time to time. Picking pockets, shoplift for food. His parents didn’t earned much and when the Great Depression stroke, what else could he do? It was a hunger that drove his eleven years old hands. How could anyone blame him?

Later, during his studies, he struggled financially. Of course he did. No one supported him, so he had to support himself. Was he a terrible person just because he ingratiated himself with (female) classmates from wealthier families? Was it really a crime when he borrowed some money from them? Without their knowledge? Never repaying it back? Especially if they didn’t notice? No. He simply didn't born into the right family and so he deserved those little contributions from the luckier ones.

And now - did he have all he wanted? Not at all. Fact that he was assigned to the Lower City bureau was a enough of a proof. The whole justice was more or less corrupted, was it not? He won’t be any worse than any other judge or magistrate. They all did little favours to their friends and families. They all had their connections, helping hands that lifted them to their positions. Contrary to him. He had to compete with wealthier, luckier, those more blessed and he made it. He would be an idiot to refuse a giving hand when it reached to him. He deserved it.

After all, one did not become successful and wealthy by playing fair. Living a good life while remaining humble and honest was impossible, at least in this society. When he listened to his conscience, he heard his parents’ voices talking to him. But what did they get with their humbleness? Their honesty and modesty and whatever false values they believed in? Back pain. Rheumatism. Tendonitis. And how did society reward them for being such good people? The doctor kicked them out of his office because they couldn't pay.

People praised others for being good simply to reduce competition. Those who fell for the fairytale of being good were out of the game, no longer a threat to those who understood the system. Blinded by the constructed ideals, lambs like his parents were herded by the wolves. They led you to poverty and praised you for the suffering. And when you asked for help, they bit your hands off. The circle had closed.

As the anger was boiling inside of him, he realized he was sitting there fully clothed. Only the scarf was loosen, hanging sloppily around his sweaty neck. It was decided. He’ll take the money, he’ll issue the warrant. He had some discretion and he could come up with some arguments why it was justified.

Astarion left his coat in the armchair and went to the bathroom to sprinkle his face with little bit of cold water. After that, he poured himself a glass of wine.

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carolinemathildes · 22 days

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earlier this year a girl in my department went on stress leave, and as a result the rest of us sat down with someone and talked about our issues with HR and management and how unsupported we feel and how toxic the workplace is.

and nothing has changed. in a department of seven, at least three of us are looking for new jobs, and at least two of us are also considering going on stress leave.

the first girl never came back from leave, by the way. she quit because management and HR were causing an unsafe work environment.

today I told my manager I was so stressed I’m on the verge of tears all the time and all she said was “but you should be proud that you’re working on the hardest file!”

I don’t know how much longer I can do this, but I’m really not in the financial position to leave. I hate everything so much.

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vermillioncrown · 11 months

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ands snippet: duck tolling and retrieving

as teased yesterday, the snippet on how vivienne meets tim, and how tim gets involved with the bats in this 'verse. tim accidentally noses his way into bat business and makes a mess. vivienne is the collateral and is not happy about it.

(tim is 11, jason is 13, dick is 18, bruce is early 30s and ros&vi are mid 30s)

if you guys spot cursed aughties teen fashion/styling choices -> @rozaceous and i made choices okay

===

In a rush of sudden, sobering clarity, Vivienne stands up from the table. "I need to make a call." She glares down at the preteen across the table and adds, "Don't run. You won't like it if I have to chase you down again."

Her captive audience nods, long bangs flopping comically with his vigorous motion. Wide baby blue eyes, looking at most 100 lbs sopping wet, still clutching his skateboard in a death grip—Timothy Jackson Drake would pass as a commonplace patron of Robinson Park. Innocuous. Benign. But the trouble he's caused her over the past month…

Right. That's why it was on sight for her as she was driving off for lunch break. But it's also a reminder that she doesn't often let her temper get the best of her, despite the naysayers at the office. She's curt and all business, and the type of work that's under her purview doesn't tolerate carelessness. Every action is carefully considered and executed to the best of her ability.

And this fucking teenybopper, this little skater boy, almost ruined everything.

Even so, her reaction was admittedly…rash.

"So, I might have done something rash," she says as such to Ros as soon as her girlfriend picks up the phone.

"You’re lucky I’m in between clients and you have ten minutes until I’m at Marius’s place.” Despite the snappy comment, Ros isn’t mad. Little chuckles come out naturally with her exhales as she walks. “Which closet do we need to clear out now? Can you fit everything into the car?”

“What? I’m not keeping a child in a closet!”

“—what?”

“—huh?”

Vivienne stops. Finds herself at a loss for words with the complete overshoot of the conversation’s trajectory.

“Go on—you have me piqued. Why do you have to put a child in a closet?” She pauses for dramatic effect, letting Vivienne stew. “Which, by the way, is not where we put children.”

“Okay, this phone call was…kinda rash, then,” Vivienne admits.

“Well, you’ve got me now, no take backs.”

“Okay, fine—I saw him.”

“Him?”

“The Termite.”

“…no. Nooooo, Vi, don’t—he—he’s still whole and healthy, yes?!”

“I’m already in a fucking metric ton of hot flaming garbage, I’m not adding homicide into the mess!” Vivienne hisses. She glances back through the crack of the door, view to the table clear where Drake—the Termite of her life, as they’ve been calling him for the last three weeks of this debacle—is still sitting like someone glued him to his seat. “…it could be aggravated assault if his parents catch wind.”

“Vi, I was joking, please tell me you’re joking.”

“He’s fine. Just rumpled from some. Um. Manhandling.”

Ros doesn’t say anything for a minute. But Vivienne knows her well enough to know that she knows Vivienne well enough to know exactly what happened.

Weeks of internal investigation, legal red tape, forced paid leave, all devices checked and wiped…it all forms the toxic legal mire that’s export control and proprietary information being so blatantly compromised. Important projects due for a midterm review halted. Possible lawsuits if collaboration was involved with certain data. The budget—

Forget the corporate throat-slitting some of the other D-Suites and ladder climbers are trying to leverage with this incident—annoying but ultimately, being the equivalent of Lucius’s favored workplace poodle means he’ll swat away all detractors. She won’t lose her position and it’s not like she cares to climb any higher.

But the indignity of the damage done from the harebrained plot of a fucking kid, to her—

That he targeted her and her device for some incomprehensible reason and fucking managed—

It’s like someone knocking on her front door, her opening to answer it in good faith, and they rush in to pee on the carpet before anyone would have the wherewithal to stop them.

What is anyone supposed to do in that situation? How is someone supposed to feel after that?!

She saw him ditching class at the skate park, like he didn’t have a single worry in his little puffball bobblehead brain, and admittedly lost her shit. He’s lucky she only scruffed him—she could have strung him up by his oversized crew neck sweater sleeves and tied him into a knapsack instead.

…a fucking emo kid skater boy, with the quintessential TWLOHA crew neck, managed to hack into her fucking laptop. The audacity.

“…That’s aggravated assault, yes.” Ros’s voice breaks through the current wave of anger.

Vivienne lets out a frustrated whine in response. They both let the situation sink in for a moment as they consider their next moves. It takes more than a minute but the mutual silence is productive.

“Well, he must be terrified out of his goddamn mind right now,” Ros brings the conversation back, tone forcibly casual.

“You’d immediately fall for his ‘I’m baby’ wet eyes if you were here,” Vivienne says. The quipping grounds her, brings her back to focused assessment.

Ros laughs and it makes her feel better immediately. “Considering Kevin fears for his immortal toad-shaped soul every time you breathe around him and you actually like him, the Termite might count himself lucky to escape with life and limb intact.”

Huh. That…might be the play here.

“Of course, just a talking-to, and then I’ll send him on his way,” Vivienne promises. “Being that he nearly got away with what he did, I don’t think he understands that he’s bitten off more than he can chew. It’s only fair that someone tells him.”

“Yeah, it could be worse next time—skipping grades straight to Yale,” Ros agrees.

“All Yale, no Yob.” Vivienne’s chest feels lighter. It’ll be fine. “Okay, thanks for picking up. I’ll see you tonight?”

“Won’t be too late. Oh, and I’m sending the cavalry with the expensive lawyers your way.”

“Oh Jesus, no—”

“—bye!” And Ros hangs up.

Vivienne looks at her phone. She has…twenty minutes to an hour to impart the fear of god and federal-level criminal repercussions without outwardly threatening a twelve-year-old. In a public, if secluded, restaurant.

At least she asked for private seating?

Whatever, she’s worked with less. Vivienne rolls her neck, hears the satisfying crack, breathes in deep, and puts her Workplace Smile on before making her way back to where she’s left the Termite.

===

“You vibrating the car isn’t going to make us go faster,” Dick calls out peevishly. “Are you auditioning for the Flash?”

“Shut up, Dickiebird. I’m worried about Aunt Vi,” Jason snaps back. He does stop shaking his leg, though.

Dick’s worried, too, which is why he’s trying to concentrate on the road—traffic picks up earlier on Fridays, and he doesn’t need to add a car accident on top of extracting Aunt Vi from a possible lawsuit, on top of the information security compromise she’s currently dealing with. Jason’s obnoxious frosted tips keep distracting him in the periphery every time he turns his head, looking out the windows like he can mentally will the car to teleport.

Why the hell did Aunt Vi egg Bruce on to let Jason do that to himself? And why the hell did Aunt Ros not stop either of them?

…if Aunt Vi goes to jail for murdering a kid, justified anger or not, none of these questions will be answered, and though Aunt Ros is a deft hand with Bruce she’s not the one that wrangles the Batman.

Jokes aside, he’s not as worried as Jason because Aunt Vi’s not the type to get violent, even if her demeanor is like a psychic aura that inflicts fear based on proximity. It’s not like she beats people up, even at her workplace where her subordinates scuttle like little bugs around her. She doesn’t even swat at Bruce when he’s pissing her off, despite having the stones to jab her finger into his chest plate as she reams him out for fucking up the Batmobile’s suspensions again.

But she’s usually in control or a position of power. She’s never been made to lose her cool; at least, not while Dick’s been around to see or hear about it. This is the first time she’s been brought this low—even when Bruce was bleeding out all over her that night, Aunt Ros performing first aid on panicked autopilot, Aunt Vi was coolly deciding their next move to get Bruce to safety unnoticed. She had no qualms plucking the control fob for the Batmobile from him and told him to, “Sit the hell down, boy—that car’s more mine than His Dark Grace’s, with the amount of man-hours I’ve put in.”

(And he did sit the hell down at that tone.)

Little Timothy Drake did a number on her; Dick can’t help but feel guilty for not nipping it properly in the bud when they first met. He’s still not sure what to make of the kid. It’d be easy to write him off as an obsessed thrill-seeker, one of those nuts on the conspiracy boards he checks every so often…but what he did goes beyond the risk and effort for those types. From Aunt Vi’s recounting and Bruce’s investigation, it’s most likely that Timothy swapped her USB dongle for a fake one—a ducky—when he was visiting Drake Industries on the day she was meeting with the Drakes themselves. From that, he brute-forced connected to her laptop and was able to hold her device hostage unless she heard him out.

Aunt Vi’s never the type to let herself get pressed. She immediately shut it all down and turned her everything over to WayneTech’s IT department, which then got their internal affairs department involved. If only that was the end of that—she explained, with forced patience to Jason’s naive questioning, that she might also be in trouble with federal regulations because of the type of projects she has her hands in and what data might be compromised from the incident. And then because she’s private sector, IP laws and proprietary rights might be involved as well. So, the legal department was now involved as well as law enforcement.

“But you didn’t give the hacker anything?!” Jason was indignant on her behalf.

“Doesn’t matter. Compromised is compromised. I’d be facing federal prison if I didn’t report it and something got traced back to me.” She looked exhausted, despite being two weeks in on her forced paid leave while Lucius Fox put out fires on her behalf. “This is serious shit, Jason. Can’t just yell or punch it away.”

It took a few days for Bruce and Dick, off the books, to establish with high confidence—based on scant security footage, careful questioning, and timetable corroborations—that a kid literally walked into the meeting room of his parents’ company, plugged something in, and walked right out. The laptop has already been scrapped by IT so they couldn’t trace the connection to confirm. But there was enough circumstantial evidence, along with hints that Timothy knew their identities when they met, that this was some desperate attempt to get into contact with Gotham’s nocturnal denizens.

He sure has what he wanted, now. Bruce looked into everything—him, his parents, their dealings, contacts, family friends, family history, his nannies, hired help. Janet and Jack Drake, with Drake Industries in a bit of hot water, started arranging discreet shipping services for certain families with points of contact in Gotham. Likely, something about that situation spooked the kid into asking for help in all the wrong ways.

Thing is—Aunt Vi’s collateral. There are a few things she’ll admit to hating with a passion: unnecessary collateral (with that, wastefulness), ungratefulness, and cockroaches dead or alive. What she’ll never admit to hating: Dick’s hair (he’s working on it, it just needs a little time), being caught off-guard, and needing to ask for help. Here, she’s their collateral, caught off-guard in the worst way, she needs their help, and this could have all been avoided if they took a direct approach earlier. Aunt Vi doesn’t do upset well, so she gets angry. And she doesn’t like getting angry, so it makes her angrier.

She doesn’t have an outlet right now. All she has had to do for two weeks was to sit with her anger and think. She’s really good at thinking hard, and even better at acting decisively when she’s done.

Oh jeez…last Bruce heard from Aunt Ros, the kid’s still alive. Dick prays it stays that way.

===

They pull into the valet parking lot of the restaurant given by the address. Both him and Jason give it a once over, make eye contact, and come to the same conclusion: it’s too nice of a place for Aunt Vi to lose her shit in. Homicide is looking less likely with each passing minute. As for Timothy’s mental state—jury’s still out on that one.

It takes a bit of name-dropping to get the maître d' to lead them to the private dining parlor where Aunt Vi and her victim are seated. The main dining room isn’t too busy at the moment and none of the patrons look perturbed. That means no yelling or hysterics thus far. When they reach the parlor and the maître d' smartly dismisses himself to get more waitstaff, Dick can finally see the situation. Jason sucks in a breath through his teeth.

“Early dismissal today?” Aunt Vi dabs the corners of her mouth with the serviette before facing them. Yikes—she has that smile on. “You two must be hungry, then. Come sit; keep Little Timothy company.”

Dick doesn’t know a single kid over the age of seven that would tolerate being called ‘Little’ the way Aunt Vi does. Contrary to that, Luke’s his age and bitches non-stop about Aunt Vi condescending him, yet he’s the first to ask “how high?” if she orders everyone to jump (he also takes everything she says as gospel, but that’s neither here nor there). In the same way, Timothy looks like a bug subjected to the sun under a magnifying glass, writhing and dying under her considering gaze. Not that he’s actually dying at the table—it’s just the terrified misery on his face, and the way he squirms without showing signs of wanting to bolt. It’s like he can’t bring himself to even think of fleeing.

Aunt Vi, on the other hand, is back to her regular polish and cool affect. Lipstick without a single smudge, hair pinned, business wear tailored to the millimeter. She looks untouchable and far from the wanness of just a few days ago. That smile, in particular, means nothing good for the recipient. It’s not a happy smile; in fact, it’s not a smile at all—the expression is the socially acceptable version of a predator baring their fangs before going for the throat.

Nonetheless, he and Jason immediately take their seats. It should seem like the two of them are flanking Timothy on Aunt Vi’s behalf, but it feels more like ‘her half of the table’ and ‘their half of the table.’ Dick catches her once-over of both him and Jason, the micro-expressions of judgment before flattening, and then she reaches over to baby Jason.

“You’ll like this,” she says like it’s a foregone conclusion, neatly cutting up a portion of the fish on her plate and placing it on Jason’s. “If not, there’s another dish that’ll sit well with you until dinner.”

“I’m not being starved,” Jason protests, but he immediately picks up his fork and eats what she puts on his plate.

“And you”—Dick freezes when she turns to him—”eat a fruit and get some sunlight. Did you find your true calling as a ninja turtle up in New York?” She says ‘New York’ with the typical Gothamite sneer that’s now noticeable after being back in town.

Her comment, however, makes his face immediately heat up out of his control. But he still tries to do what he came here for; if it wasn't for Bruce's literal cracked ribs, Dick wouldn't bother being 'delegated'. “Uh, Aunt Vi, B sent us to help you out?” The way his voice cracks at the end makes him want to wince.

Jason snickers and Dick kicks him from across the table.

“No need. It’s Little Timothy that needs your help, rather,” she says, turning her gaze onto the kid in question. He looks at them with the comically bug-eyed expression that combines the remnant of fear, incredulity, and quiet awe. “If you’ll tell them what you told me?” She gives him an expectant look.

Timothy rattles off on command. Thankfully, they’ve been looking into the Drakes recently, otherwise the deluge of information that spills out of him would be a mess to keep up with. Most of what he says has been covered by their investigation, some bits add more context, and it turns out the Drakes’ lives are in more danger than their outside perspective showed.

And damn, does this kid get around.

“Very good,” Aunt Vi stops him. “I’ll leave it in your capable hands,” she tells Dick—who feels himself automatically straightening his posture—and then looks down at her watch. “Lunch ran later than I wanted. Make sure Little Timothy gets home. He could do with more supervision.” She gets up from the table and pushes in her chair, grabbing her handbag from the console table by the parlor door. “Feel free to order more if you’re hungry, it’s on my tab. And Little Timothy”—the kid snaps up at the address—”remember to tell your parents.”

“Y-Yes, Ma’am!”

The three of them wait until the clacking of her heels disappear once far enough into the main dining space, and both Dick and Jason turn towards Timothy. He shrinks back at the sudden attention.

“I’m really sorry,” he blurts out, looking miserable and contrite. “Ms. Yang said I caused a lot of trouble that could have made things worse for me, and I really didn’t mean to—”

“—kid, it’s fine—”

“—I just needed help,” he ends his verbal vomit on that browbeaten note.

Dick and Jason give each other discreet looks.

“We know, we’re gonna help,” Jason says. “It’s taken a bit of time, but we have a plan, okay?” He then peruses the spread on their table. “We should get dessert.”

“I’m down,” Dick says with a shrug. “And then let’s get you home, Timothy?”

“…Tim,” he mumbles.

“Tim—pick whatever dessert you want, and I’ll take you home, alright?” Dick coaxes the kid. “Don’t want your parents to worry.”

Jason perks up. “Right…wait, what did Aunt Vi want with your parents?” He gives Dick a quick look. “Thought she just told us to ‘handle it.’”

The distress that was slowly ebbing away with Aunt Vi’s departure suddenly wells up again on Tim’s face. He looks completely beside himself.

“She, uh, some—something about an internship? At WanyeTech.” Tim doesn’t look like he knows enough details to explain. “Which is really cool, don’t get me wrong, but I don’t know what—” he clams up again. It’s apparent he has no idea what to make of anything and looks to be giving himself a huge headache with trying to detangle his thoughts. “Aren’t I in a huge boatload of trouble? I already messed up with the laptop, what if I mess up on this internship?” His hands grab at his hair. “I don’t think I’m allowed to say no if I’m being offered an internship like that?”

“Sixth graders don’t get offered internships,” Dick says slowly. “And why do you even know about them?”

“My parents talk about them a lot,” Tim explains, tone still miserable and panicked. “And I know—so maybe I’m still in trouble and Ms. Yang is going to set me up to get in trouble because she already knows—”

Jason’s expression says it all: ‘Forget I asked.’

Dick agrees. Whatever Aunt Vi did to lecture poor Tim Drake—she now lives as a rent-free boogeyman in his mind. Come what may, that’s not his business anymore. As long as Tim’ll make it life and limb intact, that’s all Dick is able to handle.

===

end summary:

tldr vivienne points out exactly the shitload of trouble tim's hacking could have gotten him into, especially because he got caught. she's also dissecting his whole plan and ripping it (and his fragile preteen ego) to shreds the entire time.

bc tim actually is a smart freak and vivienne's been around enough of these smart freaks to know you can't ignore them, the 'internship' is more like summer camp + keeping tim out of trouble + her fixating on his thought processes and going "no. wrong. do better."

the hacking investigation does go away, was hairy for a bit

he ends up following her around like a little duck, coupled with the ducky and his last name, ros nicknames him 'duckie', he doesn't end up caping in this 'verse. runs comms and ops, tho

dick to luke fox: lol aunt vi's replaced you

dick, later: i did not mean to make a 17yo start beefing with an 11yo

#verm bits #on ands #phd-verse #folie a deux #roz is the one that decided to give jason frosted tips #every one of these teenage boys will go through a phase and there will be photos to blackmail them later #dick has an unkempt mullet rn and ros and vi bitch about it at night #''that fucking hair'' ''i want to shave him'' ''he can do what he wants but the split ends--that boy...''#it's great bc everything about ands is an inversion to the main 'verses #or there are overarching bits that show up one way or another in the different AUs #korvin gets tim w a ducky #tim gets vivienne w a ducky #vivienne makes it an awkward lunch #vs korvin's awkward birthday lunch

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roukabi · 2 years

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AIGHT who's ready for some hadestown SLANG and STUFF

Up Top:

"Board the Ferry" - to die. Stemmed from Charon's boat to the Underworld. Another iteration is “board the train”, because of Hades’s train. (John boarded the ferry last night.)

"Queened" - to be stuck in an unfortunate situation, especially if it concerns a relationship. Stemmed from Persephone and Hades' tumultuous marriage, as well as the original definition. (How are Rob and Gary? Heard they've been queened with each other for a while.) (All this economic turmoil lately has got me completely queened!)

"Shaded" - to feel or appear to be faint; lightheaded. Stemmed from how dead the shades of the Underworld look. (Hey, pal, you're looking shaded, everything alright?)

"High jazz/low jazz" - the amount of truthfulness to a statement, with 'low jazz' meaning more truth and 'high jazz' meaning less. Stemmed from... uh, this one's kinda made up, but I'd say it's easier to tell secrets when the band is playing loud. (There's a lot of high jazz surrounding that rumor.)

‘Rum-running to Hades’ - To suffer greatly. Rum-running was the illegal smuggling of alcohol. Rum-running to the grouchy King of Hadestown doesn’t sound fun at all. (Poor Gladys over there, she’s been rum-running to Hades ever since the blizzard.)

‘Kicking Daisies’ - dancing really hard. If you stomp and swing your feet enough times, you’re bound to tear up some poor family of flowers. Whoops. Also, ‘Daisy Kickers’ are good dancers. (Hey, check those two out, kickin’ daisies like no tomorrow!)

‘Lick Coins’ - Die 💔 . Charon’s Obol refers to (a) coin(s) placed either over the eyes or on/in the mouth of a dead person before burial. (And you know what I told those jerks? I told ‘em they could lick coins!)

‘Storming’ - Fighting. When Persephone and Hades fight, a storm brews. (Oi, quit storming over there! Break it up!)

Down Below:

“Dog-Collar” - in rough terms, the cops. This one has a bit more context: The original phrase was ‘dog-caller’, which referred to the handlers of Hadestown’s vicious hellhounds. Over time, though, the phrase became ‘dog-collar’, because the dog handlers themselves are seen as Hades’s pesky watch dogs that keep everyone else in line. So what started as a general term ended up as an insult. Sometimes the phrase is shortened to just ‘collars’. (Aw, shit, here come the dog-collars.)

‘Cog’ - a worker. I don’t think we need context for this one. (35 new cogs registered into the machine today.)

‘The Machine’ - Hadestown. See previous term for an example.

‘Unemployed’ - Anyone who is alive. Stole this one right out of Papers. (’Hades, I know this boy!’ ‘One of the unemployed?’)

‘Rattler’ - Loose term for A) someone who is easily frightened/a scaredy-cat, or B) someone who, for whatever reason, is quite prone to screwing up the rhythm of Hadestown. Not only do people shake when scared, they look ‘rattled’. Fear also means no focus, and a lack of focus leads to interrupted, rattled, production. (Who is that damn rattler kickin’ up a fuss in Sector B?)

‘Canary’ - newbie. Canaries were used in coal mines to detect the level of toxic fumes in the workplace. Bonus points if the ‘canary’ can, in fact, sing. (Look at the canaries over there. Recognize any of them?)

Note: some slang from Down Below can be used Up Top, and vice versa, though depending on whether your ceiling is made of starlight or stalactites, reactions can range from confusion to hostility. For example, saying 'Dog-Collar' up top is fairly normal, while 'unemployed' is... bootlick-y. Likewise, telling the dead to 'lick coins' is considered rude, and 'kicking daisies' is entirely unheard of down there.

#these arent replacements for 1930s slang (which is really fun by itself) i just like random worldbuilding #i like language can you tell #use em however u want i guess #hadestown #worldbuilding #long post #hadestown musical #musicals #rook roars!#PS I have No Idea if any of these actually exist/have close irl versions so. there's that i guess

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seeingivy · 1 year

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THE NEWEST PART OF METHOD ACTING WAS SO GOOD YET IT IS SO BITTER SWEET TO ME😭😭😭😭 literally went from “omg y/n finally at peace” to “NOEOEHEIWEHIWWHJWWHWJB” at the ending….

putting that aside ur writing is geninuely so immersive and authentic and just aighwhwjwgsjsshjs u just get it

what im really curious about is eren’s pov during the time period between the rep comeback and the lucky ones interview because i have no idea what is going awn in that mind of his😀 i dont have a single clue on how we gon even get an eren redemption arc or a happy ending from this 😭😭😭

HELLO HELLO MY SWEET ANON! first and foremost - replying to you but also everyone who has sent me such kind, kind (and aggressive) words about the last chapter. I feel bad filling everyones feed with each individual ask (which idk why i feel bad this is my blog but I do I don't want to annoy my moots or my followers) so im gonna address MOST questions ive had with your ask <3 pls don't think I don't see and love + appreciate your words each and every individual person, bc they make me more and more motivated/excited to write

that being said, thank you SO SO MUCH for saying my work is immersive and authentic. this is such a harder write compared to roommates because rather than it being like roommates (which was literally just like fluff no plot romance) I feel like im trying really hard to pour more than JUST romance into this - fame/people pleasing, drugs/addition, female friendships, toxic men/workplaces/dynamics, etc. - and the fact that it's getting across and hitting for you and others makes my heart so so warm. I know it's a silly little fanfiction but it means a lot that people can feel the feels with me - triumphant when y/n gets to assert her boundary, heartbroken when marco dies, forgiving of eren.

especially on my lacy, oh lacy chapter - I was really feeling the depths of comparing myself to other girls and feeling so, like OBSESSED with this one girl who I just think is better that me that it fills me with resentment for her/me/how my brain works. I wrote it into that chapter because it was what i was feeling expecting people to hate on historia/her entire relationship with y/n and I almost cried when every single person was so like....loving of her, of their relationship and never once questioned why she felt that way. like wow, real. art is soothing sometimes. (I am not calling my fic about a 2d man art but you get what im trying to say)

that being said. I got fifty asks begging me to clarify/and or make a happy ending. GUYS I AM STILL THE GIRL WHO WROTE ROOMMATES I PROMISE YOU'RE GETTING A SWEET FLUFFY ENDING THEY ARE ENDING UP TOGETHER THEY ARE SOULMATES THEY ARE FISH TOGETHER.

on the topic of eren and his thought process - I thought hard of whether I wanted to make this a dual pov - more like roommates and decided against it. eren purposely (and sometimes with reason) withholds information from y/n. I have to emulate that for you as readers, but I promise that eren will tell his shit when he tells his shit. and not JUST in the period between reputation and the lucky ones, but all the way back at the start. we're talking met gala, we're talking their breakup, we're talking the reputation songs, the fights they had, and EVEN the interview. all in good time. baby boy is about to tell his truth. y/n makes dumb mistakes but so does he!!!

I hope that clarifies everyones questions and soothes your brains for now!

(and yes. y/n will still be in season four. im not a nutjob.)

#asks!#method acting

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doctordragon · 5 months

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you do know that by transitioning to a masc aligned gender identity you don’t have to hate women or be radically pro-sex to the point of supporting harmful things. like those two things don’t have to go hand in hand. you do know that

also, your arguments are just asinine. yes, all work is degrading, but it is no way comparable to the shame and violation which comes with raped all day for money that you dont get. no one is trafficked and forced to become a chiropractor/masseuse/etc. also, you are against capitalist society, and yet you are somehow still pro sex work? you cannot agree that all work is degrading and yet delegate one type that is particularly degrading and harmful as okay or even good.

also, you cant compare hierarchical society in the workplace (as bad as it may be) to actual, real world forced sex. no one is forcing you to have an office job

consent can’t be bought for the right price. if all work is non consensual what do you call non consensual sex. i think you know

First of all, you have absolutely no right to call me a woman hater you projecting motherfucker. You literally told me you think all men should die and that I should kill myself for being a man. If that's not you, stop being a fucking coward and prove it and talk to me off anon. Meanwhile I have been nothing but supportive towards women and women's issues, especially because almost all of them still affect me as a trans man.

I am radically pro sex. Our culture's views on sex are incredibly toxic and unhealthy. Your puritanical bullshit is only contributing to this toxicity. Sex is a neutral act. You can use all sorts of provocative language to describe it, but ultimately it's not that much different than any other activity people can do together. Your attitude towards sex as inherently violating, intimate, and shameful comes from the fact that you are a 17 year old asexual teenager. Not everyone views sex the way you do.

And how many times do I have to tell you, you are minimizing workplace abuse. My friend had her legs PERMANENTLY FUCKING DESTROYED from working at Starbucks out of the managers convenience. She literally told you that she would rather be "forced" (because you don't believe sex workers can give consent) into sex with strangers than have to live with her shitty legs. Amazon warehouse workers literally died because they weren't allowed to leave the warehouses during a deadly tornado. And that's just in North America. The electronics you are typing this ask out were made with slavery. The lengths you go to dismiss workplace abuse are astounding.

Anyway, you have yet to provide an argument against SEX WORK ITSELF. You're just arguing against trafficking and rape, and of fucking course those are bad. But, trafficking and rape are not inherit to sex work just like forcing people to stay in a building during a tornado isn't inherit to warehouse work. The problem isn't sex work itself, it's the abusive practices in the sw industry and societal factors that force people into sex work. If people were being trafficked into office jobs, would you be against any job sitting in front of a computer? If being a non trafficked masseuse is fine, what's wrong with being a non trafficked sex worker?

And yes, all work is degrading because we live in a capitalist society. The problem is the capitalism, not the work itself. In a perfect socialist utopia, people would still do work because we have a society that needs running. And there would still be sex work because there will ALWAYS be sex work.

I still have no idea what your actual policy positions are, unless they're just coming online, complaining about the concept of sex work, and misgendering trans men, which is very ineffective. There will always be sex work, so what measures do you want to take to ensure sex worker protections? I have realistic goals and policies that would tangibly make the lives of real sex workers better. All you have is a shoddy argument that sex workers are too stupid to know what's best for them or give consent.

And again, you can't easily sort things into "consensual" and "non consensual" with a hard line. Of course work in our society isn't fully consensual. The problem here isn't the presence of sex - sex is completely neutral - it's the coercive factors. If you can acknowledge the difference between working a minimum wage job and slavery, you can acknowledge the difference between a sex slave and a sex worker.

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pinkarachnia · 1 year

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Lesbian Anime Review #10 - Yuri is my Job

And yet, a small ember of hope continues to burn in the hearts of dykes..

Despite all odds, I liked this show. Credit to my dear friend @occultattorneygeneral for making the above image and for watching this show with me as it aired.

As with every yuri I watch, I watch the start with my partner to see if it will be one of our shows for the anime season. After the first episode of this, I wasn't particularly impressed and I watched the rest in discord calls with the girls. This may have elevated my experience of the show, but I can't review your experience now can I? If you thought this was bad, maybe try watching it with some lesbians next time.

So the setup for this show is that the protagonist, Hime, is a real piece of shit. Lying is her real job, and her whole character is that she pretends to be nice so that people will like her. She's disingenuous and doesn't like people. She's also kind of an idiot, which will come up later. Hime is blackmailed into working at a cafe where the premise is that the wait staff dress in cosplay as fictional characters attending a school in a shoujo manga setting and act out fictional relationships. The cafe attendees use forums or some kind of social media to document events that occur in the cafe and keep track of plot events.

Back to the blackmail for a second; Hime's boss is fucked up! She is faking an injury for the entire 12 episode season and uses this to forcefully recruit Hime. So she's a bad person. The workplace she runs is also AWFUL. The work culture is crazy toxic in this cafe and she does nothing to help.

So there are 4 characters who work as waitresses in this cafe and they're the main characters of the show. The protagonist, Hime, pairs herself up with another one of the girls working there, Mitsuki, characterised by her serious attitude and how she breasts boobily. They've got issues which they might work through but who knows?

The other two are Hime's friend Kanoko and the most tenured staff member, Sumika. You'd better believe those two have some issues too.

So the gist of the plot is that Hime needs to figure out how to deal with this new job where she gets to employ her fantastic skills in pretending to be nice and cute while also trying to stay on good terms with Mitsuki, who seems to hate Hime right out of the gate.

It's yuri, baby.

I AM GOING TO SPOIL THE EVENTS OF THIS ANIME BELOW

NOTE THAT THIS IS AN ADAPTION OF AN ONGOING MANGA AND DOES NOT HAVE A CONCLUSION SO NO ENDING SPOILERS REALLY BUT YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED

Shoutout to the chef girl.

There are some great things about this show, but it takes a while to get going.

After the characters are introduced, we learn a few key facts. Hime and Mitsuki knew each other when they were kids in school, but haven't seen each other for years. Mitsuki recognises Hime because she hasn't changed much, but Hime is an idiot, so she doesn't do the same. They have a whole backstory where back when Hime was a juvenile liar, she and Mitsuki were besties and she told Mitsuki about her whole deal being a sociopath. Mitsuki is kind of autistic coded and doesn't seem to get why anyone would lie on purpose. She calls out Hime for being fake in front of the girls in class that Hime actually dislikes but pretends to like and they have a falling out. There's a big misunderstanding between the two of them that causes this, but Hime decides that people who call her out as a liar are bad people and Mitsuki develops a hatred towards people who tell lies. The two don't see each other again until they're reunited in the cafe, plausible personality disorders in tow.

Hime's friend Kanoko is fucked up! She's an obsessive weirdo who is in love with Hime and terrified of her finding out about it because she cherishes her position as Hime's only real friend and thinks that Hime wouldn't like her any more if she knew. Normal, well-adjusted girls are not present in this show.

Most of this season is actually about Kanoko. Episodes 1-5 are about Hime and Mitsuki's backstory, then 5-11 are Kanoko-centric. The other staff member, Sumika, figures out Kanoko's deal when she leaves her phone at work and Sumika finds the enormous stockpile of Hime photos that Kanoko has taken in secret. She makes the very normal decision to intervene in this and convince Kanoko to drop the romantic feelings for her friend.

Turns out, Sumika has baggage because prior to these girls working in the cafe, there were two other girls who were gay for each other in the cafe, and this messed things up for Sumika. She had been in a kayfabe relationship with one of these two, and when they started hooking up for real, that bled into the kayfabe and ruined it for her. It's somewhat implied that Sumika had feelings of her own and perhaps was vicariously enjoying that through her fictional girlfriend, but they don't go into this too far. It all got ruined when one of the two fags left the cafe and ditched her gf in the process, which resulted in her resigning as a waitress too. But she stuck around and is revealed to be the chef! I like the chef. She may not wear a hairnet, but safe kitchen practices aside, I think she's alright.

The way they resolve things with Kanoko and Sumika is my favourite part of this show. After Sumika talks to the chef, who basically tells her that she's in the wrong for trying to control other people's feelings, she and Kanoko have a talk where Kanoko has a bit of a breakdown thinking about how she's too anxious to talk to Hime about her feelings, but if she never talks about it, it's like those feelings never happened. Sumika opens up to Kanoko and volunteers to listen to her vent about her gay feelings, becoming Kanoko's only confidant. The two of them then get together in cafe kayfabe as a pair.

I absolutely love these two. They're both fucked up girls with baggage over unrequited gay feelings who feel isolated in their worlds but find comfort in each other, and I think that's more of a real connection than I see in most anime that try to tell gay stories. I would love to see another season of this mainly because I think these two have such good chemistry and I want to see their relationship evolve. I want to see the moment where Kanoko realises that she's gotten over Hime because she got to experience a friendship that felt reciprocative and not performative. (that's speculation, I don't know what happens in the manga)

I do want to talk about how these girls have a dedicated fanbase of customers who constantly speculate online about what's going on in the cafe. It seems like the customers are inclined to speculate on what's going on both in and out of kayfabe, which cannot be good for these girls. It's also unclear how many hours this place is open for per day - it seems like this kind of thing could only be open for a few hours during specific times because this kind of work would be exhausting. The girls have lore to familiarise themselves with so that their actions align with the canon of their setting, which is based on books that the protagonist can't seem to read a single volume of by the end of the season.

It's also hilarious to me that at the start, the staff keep getting pissed at Hime for breaking canon with her actions and they even explain this to her backstage, but she's like, "I just don't get why they're mad at me" like they didn't just tell her. That doesn't forgive that she was shunted into this role and expected to adhere to these lore-specific rules without being given the relevant information in advance, but everyone is in the wrong in this show.

I'm pleasantly surprised to say that I do recommend Yuri is my Job, or Watashi no Yuri wa Oshigoto Desu if you're so inclined.

I might even pick up the manga, at this point I'm invested.

I was initially turned off this because I thought the characters were going to be too tropey for me to enjoy, but they were appropriately melodramatic all the time and I looked forward to my yuri session with the girls every week.

Girls do kiss in this show. Eat my entire ass, Birdie Wing.

I'm giving this show a 7/10 and I'm giving my dyke friends a 10.

#lesbian anime review #yuri is my job!#watayuri

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