#(fair but it also seems like she's saying a queen would only fuck a non-royal if she didn't have a sense of royal dignity right?)

[heartofstanding]

I love it when historians go "we need to take this relationship as seriously as this other relationship" before seguing into how the other relationship is totally fake and made up and perpetuated by hack historians.

#ricardians demanding that eleanor talbot and edward iv was real and not a cynical claim by a usurping king... #then saying it should 'at least' be taken as seriously as catherine de valois and owen tudor #and then turning around and arguing that catherine's 'tudor' children were actually fathered by edmund beaufort #a certain edward ii historian making this argument for edward ii and piers gaveston compared to isabella of france and roger mortimer #and then claiming that unlike catherine de valois (apparently) #isabella had too much sense of her royal dignity to fuck roger mortimer who after all wasn't a king like edward ii #(and no i'm not pulling the 'unlike catherine de valois' thing from my arse) #(this historian literally goes 'isabella had too much royal dignity to fuck mortimer #do not cite catherine de valois to me she's an entirely different person') #(fair but it also seems like she's saying a queen would only fuck a non-royal if she didn't have a sense of royal dignity right?) #text posts

[illfoandillfie]

Kinktober Day 6: NonCon (+Bondage +Overstimulation)

Kinktober Masterlist | Regular Masterlist

Pairing: Fairy!Lucy x Fem!Reader, Fairy!Lucy x Fairy!Rami, Fairy!Rami x Fem!Reader (with small cameos from Fairy!Ben and Fairy!Gwil)

Words: 3,232

Warnings: NonCon, bondage, overstimulation, anal, anal training, oral (f receiving and m receiving + toys), throat training, sex toys (dildos/strapons/anal plugs), use of magic, begging, crying, creampie, cum swallowing, PIV,  degradation, humiliation, orgasm denial, forced orgasms, loss of consciousness, mention of double penetration, mention of pimping reader out, mention of flogging.

A/N: As soon as I saw non/dubcon was one of the optional prompts for day 6 I knew it would fit with another chapter of the Fairy AU! But, I also really liked bondage and overstimulation, so I decided to just incorproate all three into this one chapter lmao. 

As with the rest of the Fairy AU, this can probably be read as DubCon but in this one Reader does use words like ‘no’ and ‘stop’ so I’ve categorised it as NonCon. Please don’t read if that isn’t your thing.

Lucy had taken Gwilym’s suggestions for training you seriously. By the end of the week he’d supplied her with three dildos, each one larger than the last, which had been stuck to the wall of your room. Every day you had scheduled training time in which you’d kneel on the floor and fellate the toys, learning how to handle them better, supervised closely by one of Lucy’s staff or by the Queen herself. She would reward you when she felt you’d made sufficient progress and punish you when you didn’t. Once, while she was watching, you’d gagged and choked too much as you’d attempted to deepthroat the smallest of the dildos, and so she had flogged you before forcing you to try again, plainly unmoved by your tears.  

In addition to the dildos, Gwilym had also supplied an anal plug (with the promise he could get a larger one when you were ready for it), and since then you’d been perpetually full. The end of it was marked by a jewel – similar in colour to the shimmery beads which hung from your collar – and was clearly visible through the sheer dresses Lucy clothed you in. You weren’t permitted to touch it. Lucy gave permission to remove it so you could use the bathroom and wash or so you could be fucked, but otherwise you had to endure the constant fullness of being plugged. Rami, for his part, thoroughly enjoyed your new training regime. When Lucy had passed on the suggestion that he should use your throat and arse more frequently, he’d been quick to agree, and you couldn’t remember a day since that he hadn’t made good on his word. Though neither he nor Lucy had entirely stopped using your cunt. They’d discovered the joys of penetrating you at the same time, treating it as a something for them to do as a couple. They felt that by fucking you simultaneously it could bring them closer together and, so far, it seemed to be working. The chamber maids and staff in the castle whispered about it as they worked, gossiping about how loved up the royal couple seemed, speculating if that meant a child would soon be on the way. Of course you knew that a pregnancy was unlikely considering Rami usually filled you with his seed. Even when he fucked Lucy he’d more often than not finish inside you. Lately he'd favoured your throat, his cock tasting of Lucy as he held your nose and forced you to swallow. Another part of your training. 

Even in your off hours, when both of your masters were otherwise occupied, you couldn’t escape the constant feeling of being full, the plug inside your arse stimulating you as you walked through the corridors. Once, while going about your business, you’d run into Gwilym and Ben. Gwilym had asked about your training and Ben had stepped behind you to see the plug. They’d drawn you into an empty room nearby and made you lift your dress and bend over so they could get a better look. You’d not wanted to, worried what Lucy would say, but the didn’t give you much choice and so you’d obeyed, trying not to let it affect you when they discussed how wet you were and what they’d like to do with your body. Ben seemed a touch jealous that Gwilym had used you already but at the same time he sounded pleased that when it was his turn to have you, you’d be better able to take whatever he decided to dole out. They’d eventually let you go but not before Gwilym interrogated you further about your progress since beginning training.  

If Ben or Gwilym had ever mentioned their private meeting with you, Lucy had never alluded to it, and you’d never found the courage to mention it yourself. It was hard to know how she’d react. Instead you focused on being a dutiful pet. Quiet, except when you were being fucked, and obedient at all hours. If Lucy said it was time to practice your cock sucking skills, you’d kneel at the wall and suck until she told you to stop. If Rami entered your room after dark and rolled you onto your stomach, you’d press your arse into the air to make it easier for him. And if either of them ever asked if you were enjoying yourself, you told them you loved how it felt to be taught to serve properly. For the most part they were happy with your behaviour and your attitude to the new training regime. Lucy would coo about what a good pet you were as you ate breakfast in the courtyard and reward you with whatever trinkets your heart desired. Until you displeased her.  

About a month or so into the training, Lucy decided you weren’t enjoying yourself as much as she’d like.  “I was lenient when we started,” she said, pacing from one side of your room to the other as you knelt on the floor and wiped drool from your lips, “I knew this wouldn’t be easy for you, that everything would feel new and difficult. But we’ve been at it now for long enough that you should have grown to enjoy it more.”  “I do like it,” you said weakly, but Lucy just scoffed and strode past you again.   “Liar. You endure it. Which is fine. If enduring it is all you’re capable of then you’ll just have to endure it until I'm sick of playing with you. When I bind you in the gardens for the first night of the bacchanal you will endure every single one of my people who comes to use your holes. When I reward Benjamin for his loyalty by presenting him with your pliant body on a silver fucking platter, you’ll endure it. When Gwilym comes to assess your progress, you’ll fucking endure that too. But I’d like so much more to have an enthusiastic whore.” She paused in her pacing to regard you, “It’s no skin off my nose if you don’t enjoy what happens to you. But it would be in your interests to learn, not just to endure it, but to actively crave it.”  “Yes Mistress,” you dropped your head as you spoke, trying to breathe naturally when all you felt was panic.   “Come now, don’t cry pet. I think I can help you. We just need to give you better motivation. So, starting today, you are not permitted to cum unless you’re having your arse or throat fucked.”  “My Queen?”  “Don’t worry, pet, we’ll still take pleasure from your cunt. But you won’t. You’re going to learn to associate orgasms with anal and oral. We’ll start with just Rami and I but if I feel you need extra motivation then I can inform your minders to make you cum while you practice with the dildo wall. And if that doesn’t work then I’ll declare you a lost cause and let you suffer while we enjoy your services. Sound fair?”  “Yes, Mistress, very fair.”  “Good. Now let’s try it out shall we? Up on the bed, legs spread for me. And remember, no cumming.” 

Lucy was true to her word. It was hard to adjust to, being edged while they played with your pussy, but they always made sure you had at least one orgasm while they used either of your other holes. In fact, Lucy was quite generous and would often magically remove your ability to orgasm so you didn’t have to worry about accidentally falling over the edge. And then she’d let you moan into her cunt while Rami filled your arse, taking away the spell so that Rami’s touching your clit made you cum with all the force of the orgasms you’d been denied before. You thought perhaps her plan might work. It was easier to feign excitement about both anal and fellatio when you knew that it was your only chance to cum and the more you pretended to like it the more you actually did start to like it. It was slow going though and you could tell Lucy still believed you could be more enthusiastic. Perhaps that was why sometimes she was less nice. On days when she wanted to test you or when she came to you needing to vent some frustration after dealing with a troublesome queenly duty, she’d forget the spell. She’d take great joy from ploughing your pussy with her dildo or rubbing herself against you or even eating you out, mocking you when you whined about being close and ordering you to hold it or suffer the consequences. You weren’t sure what the consequences were but you weren’t all that keen to find out and so you’d struggle through, trying desperately to keep the orgasm at bay. Which is what happened one night when she came to you, clearly pissed off about something that had happened in the meeting she’d just returned from. 

Lucy didn’t elaborate on what or who had pissed her off but you instantly knew she was going to make you suffer. Her fingers had tugged at your hair hard enough that it felt as if she were ripping it out, as she pulled you down to lick her pussy. Even after she’d had her orgasm she was still angry and so decided to use you to alleviate her frustrations.  Meekly you removed your dress and lay back, following every order she gave you quickly and without question.   She considered you for a moment before approaching the wall and pulling the largest dildo from it.  You gulped as she used her powers to attach it to herself and then, in the blink of an eye, was on you, the tip of the fake cock at your entrance. You had no hope. The moment you saw the glint in her eye you knew she would be making you cum one way or another and certainly without permission. Lucy was looking to punish someone and you were the perfect candidate. But you tried. You did everything you could think of to keep from cumming as Lucy rode you, toying with your clit until she grew fed up with waiting and sent a bolt of magic through you that had you clenching on her cock in an instant.   She tutted at you as she pulled out, “Oh pet. That was a mistake. I’m going to have to punish you now.”  “Please don’t, My Queen. No, please no. I tried Mistress.”  “And you failed. So now...”  There was a flash of light and the next thing you knew was being bound to the bed, arms and legs immobile. No matter how much you tried to pull at them they held, as you’d known they would. Lucy watched you, amused, until you stopped struggling so much. The only movement she made was to take off the dildo she wore, absentmindedly tracing her fingers over its length, already slick from being inside you.   “There now, have you got it out of your system?” she asked when you gave up trying to free yourself, “You know I hate doing this but it’s the only way you’ll learn.” She grinned as she spoke, clearly enjoying every second of your dismay.   All you could do was try to brace yourself as your queen shoved the fake cock back inside you, her magic making it thrust and vibrate.  

The toy had a mind of its own and all you could do was writhe against your restraints and moan as you were unwillingly pulled into an orgasm.  “Don’t you look so pretty like this.” her laugh was tinkling and musically sweet and you knew there would be no hope of being released until she’d had her fun. Your stomach tightened as another orgasm began to build and, though you knew it was futile, you couldn’t help but beg again and again for it to stop, knowing it would only get more painful as it continued.  “Such a noisy whore aren’t you. That’s good. I’m sure the whole castle will hear what pleasure I bring you.”  “Mis-Mistress, p-p-p-lease,” you cried out, somewhere between sobbing and moaning, “Ple-ase st-stop.”  “Oh no, I’m not going to do that. You wanted this. You wanted to cum and so you did, disregarding my order entirely.”  “No,” you shook your head but Lucy just talked over you.  “Yes, whore. You asked for this.”  You let out a high pitched whine, barely hearing the door open and Rami walk in.  “Sweetie!” Lucy said excitedly, beckoning him towards the bed.  “What’s going on here?”  “You remember what I told you about Gwilym’s assessment of our pet right?”  “Which part?”  “How he asked if she’d ever passed out while we played with her.”  “Of course. You were wondering how much it would take to make it happen. Is that what we’re testing out here?”  “It is!” She clapped her hands together excitedly, “Our silly pet decided it would be okay to steal an orgasm, even though she knew that I didn’t want her to have any. So now I’m giving her all the orgasms she wants and we’ll only stop when she loses consciousness.”   The tears that you’d spilled already had been brought on by pain but now you cried out of fear, terrified about how much you’d have to endure before you reached the end of your torment. Every orgasm you were forced to have was a little more painful than the last and came faster too, giving you less time to recover. And, though you tried to plead with Lucy, tried to apologise and promise to be good, it was getting harder and harder to speak. Your words were interrupted by whimpers, whines, sobs, and every so often a moan as your pleasure peaked enough to overtake the pain for a moment or two. Lucy remained indifferent to it all, watching you with excitement and greed.  

“Actually, Darling, watching our naughty little slave has made me very wet.”  “Say no more, my love.” Rami said softly, leaning in to tenderly kiss Lucy’s cheek as undressed. And before you could properly register what was happening above you, Lucy was moaning as he eased into her cunt from behind.  Lucy kept her eyes on you except for when they fluttered shut as he began to thrust, “Good whore. Keep crying. You’re going to help me get off.”  You couldn’t have stopped crying even if you’d tried. The pleasure peaks had grown less and less frequent as the pain became more acute, hurting you from the inside out. And knowing that your suffering was making your mistress horny, that she was enjoying your torment, only made it worse. It was humiliating, not least because part of you felt glad to have pleased her.   “That’s it, like that,” Lucy panted but you couldn’t tell if she was still talking to you or if the words were aimed at Rami.   You screamed as you came again, your arms and legs pulling against the restraints, sobbing in the aftermath as you already felt the next impossible climax start to build.   Lucy arched her back, drool dripping from her lips onto you as she moaned out the word yes over and over, being fucked just the way she liked, pushed closer and closer to her own release. And when she came she moaned, her mouth falling open in an O shape that made you jealous of her good it must feel compared to the orgasms ripped out of you.   “Pull out Rami.” she panted as she came down, groaning at the loss of his cock, “Got somewhere special for you to put it.”  You had no idea what she meant, barely understanding what she’d said, until she moved aside so Rami could kneel between your legs.   You cried through a blissful five seconds as Lucy removed the vibrating dildo from your throbbing pussy and then it was replaced by Rami who roughly thrust into you until he had his orgasm too. You could feel him twitching inside you as he pumped his cum into you and then pulled out. For a moment you hoped that would be the end but then your overworked cunt was filled once more with the toy and you screamed as it continued to overstimulate you.   “How about one for each of her holes?” Lucy said softly, already stroking Rami’s cock, “Like a proper cumdump deserves.”  You felt limp and exhausted, unable to even attempt to thrash against the bonds that held you in place. And so, when Rami knelt by your head and forced his cock between your lips, you did nothing but cry. Even before he was finished painting your tongue you began to feel dizzy, struggling to keep your eyes open.   Rami pulled out and laughed, “I think this is it my love. See how she struggles now?”  “Oh you’re right,” Lucy moved closer, examining your face as you felt another shockwave roll through your body.   The last thing you heard was Lucy ask, “Are you going to pass out now pet?” And then there was darkness.  

You were no longer bound when you woke, no longer stuffed full with the dildo. The familiar taste of Rami was on your tongue and the moon was where it had been before so you knew you hadn’t been out for more than a few minutes.  “You’re awake!” Lucy exclaimed, “Rami she’s awake!”  You blinked away the grogginess and winced as you moved.   “Well?” Lucy asked as both she and Rami peered down at you, “Do you remember what happened?”  You nodded, memories rushing back, “You punished me for disobedience.” you said softly, needing to clear your throat before the words could be heard.  “Yes. So what do you say?”  “Thank you for teaching me a lesson My Queen.” The full weight of what you’d been through caught up with you and another sob wracked your chest, “I’m sorry for disobeying.”  “Does that mean it won’t happen again?”  “It won’t, Mistress. I’ll be good from now on.”  “And you’ll put more effort into enjoying having all of your holes used?”  “Yes, Mistress. I’ll love it I promise. I’ll love it so much I’ll beg for you to use them.”  “I like the sound of that. Why don’t we start now. I promised Rami he could fill your arse but you blacked out before he had the chance and we didn’t think it would be right for you to miss it by not being conscious. So why don’t you beg him to use you now.”  You nodded, fresh tears leaking from your eyes, “Please Rami, Sir, please use my arse. I need it so bad.”  “Not so hard now was it.”  You shook your head as rolled onto your stomach, pushing your hips up for Rami even as your legs and pussy ached.  "Before my future husband takes you, you should know something. We’ve decided that, for the moment, it would be safer if you were to stop gaining pleasure from your pussy. We’ll only be using it while you’re asleep. Any other time your other holes will take priority. Does that make sense?”  “Yes, Mistress. Whatever you think is best.”  “Good girl.” Lucy gave a nod and Rami unceremoniously removed your plug. He groaned as he sank his magically lubed cock into you and began to thrust. 

Taglist: @labessieisallama @deakyclicks @jennyggggrrr @drowseoftaylor @hannafuckingsucks @i-cant-hangout-im-drumming @queenmylovely @ilovequeenmorethanyou @johndeaconshands @borhapbois @stardust-galaxies @cherries-n-rocknroll @rogersslave @scorpiogemini

#my writing #my fics #lucy boynton x reader #rami malek x reader #lucy boynton smut #rami malek smut #lucy boynton imagine #rami malek imagine #i......dont have any excuses for this

[alienheartattack]

To All Of Us, From 2000 Years Ago

I got so mad about 139 and the leaks that I banged out my own 3000+ word ending to the manga today. Please keep in mind that this is a non-shipping story. Although I’ve exclusively written Rivamika before, this is not a Rivamika story, and although there’s an Eren/Mikasa scene at the beginning. there is no relationship between them, only the implication of feelings that are not quite reciprocated. I also threw some Levi fan service in there because why the hell not?

CW: There are references to and non-detailed descriptions of rape in this story.

You can also read this on AO3!

"You know what you have to do," Eren says. Mikasa pretends not to hear him over the rush of the little creek they're sitting by so he says it again, louder.

"I know," she sighs. "Even now, knowing that you've done something so unforgivable, a part of me doesn't want to."

"You're a good person, Mikasa. You'll be even better without me."

She snorts a laugh. "I've killed people, too. Just not as many as you did."

"You always had the weirdest sense of humor." Eren puts an arm around her, presses a kiss to her cheek. "I'm going to miss it." That's what finally brings him to tears, the thought of not seeing Mikasa again. Or Armin. Or Connie, or Jean, or Captain Levi, even the rest of them. He's had plenty of time to accept that he'd die at nineteen, was always going to die at nineteen, but now that the moment has arrived he wants to hold on just a bit longer.

Mikasa doesn't cry, at least not the way he expects her to. Tears stream down her face but she doesn't sniffle, doesn't sob, doesn't rage or scream the way she’s done in the past. He sees them both, Mikasa the girl and Mikasa the soldier, perfectly coexisting in the inky blackness of her eyes. She has made her decision. She made it before she even stepped into the mouth of the Titan.

"Kiss me one last time," Eren weeps. "Please."

"Okay," she nods, cupping his face with one hand and leaning in close. "See you later, Eren."

When Mikasa pulls away from his lips, the deed is already done. His severed head feels sickeningly heavy in her blood-stained hands. His eyes gaze beyond her, beyond the veil of this world, clouded with the knowledge of the void. The Titan around her begins to disintegrate in plumes of white steam. Mikasa swears she can smell wildflowers.

"Mikasa Ackerman," a girl's voice echoes. Mikasa whips her head around, looking for the source of the sound. Someone seems to materialize from the steam, swirling eddies of smoke coalescing in the form of a small girl, scraggly blond hair falling into her eyes, barefoot in a dirty white dress. Her face is blank, her eyes downcast.

"Ymir," Mikasa says, the name forming in her mouth before she can think of it.

Ymir nods, then points to Eren's head. "You loved him. Why did you kill him?"

"I had to."

"Why?"

"Because some things are more important than my love." Ymir stares blankly, seemingly confused. "The millions of people who died are more important. The world is more important. Besides, what kind of person would I be to stand beside someone who could slaughter so many people so senselessly?"

"You… don't love him?" The little girl blinks quickly, white lids snapping over black eyes. Something about it seems inhuman, wrong somehow. Mikasa cannot help but think of insects.

A tear falls from her face and lands on Eren’s, snaking a trail down his cheek as though he'd shed it himself. "I can never forget what he did and I don't know if I'll ever be able to forgive him for it, but I'll always love Eren."

"You wouldn't die for him?"

Mikasa answers without hesitation. "Never."

Ymir's gaze snaps up to Mikasa's, and she feels sick from what she sees in the girl's odd, dark eyes: a hunger, almost starvation, for the scraps of affection Karl Fritz would throw at her; a longing to be treated well, to be fussed over and doted on and adored. Ymir would close her eyes and dream of a shining, beautiful man when the king held her down and fucked her, made her recoil, made her bleed, beat her when she cried out or complained of the pain. She carved out a space in her mind for him where she sculpted him into her ideal. Sometime between that first bloody night and the day the assassin's spear pierced her chest she invented a Karl Fritz out of whole cloth, a man whose cold entreaties and brutal assaults were proof of his undying love.

Mikasa sees these things from Ymir’s eyes, feels the bruises forming on her back, the tearing and bleeding between her legs, the rotted wine breath of Karl Fritz in her mouth.

"I would never have jumped in front of that spear," she says, more confident than she’s ever felt. "I wouldn't even have considered it." Ymir frowns, cocks her head like she's trying to understand. "You thought you were doing the right thing, but you protected a man who never loved you. You laid down your life for a man who forced your daughters to consume your body. He didn't even mourn you."

A flash of anger contorts Ymir's face. Her eyes dart around wildly, turning Mikasa's words over in her mind. "But he loved me," she insists.

"Did he ever tell you he loved you? Or did he treat you like a slave?" Mikasa's voice wavers at the word slave, at the memory of Eren screaming at her across that restaurant table; the moment her wall of denial came crumbling down. No matter what his plan was, it became clear that day that he would step on any of them to achieve it. She had no idea how true that assessment would become, millions of bodies crushed into the contaminated earth beneath the feet of Eren’s Titans.

She wonders if things would have happened differently if he'd just admitted once that he loved her.

"You are free," she tells Ymir. "You choose your own destiny. I am free, and I chose mine."

Ymir says nothing, her eyes luminous with tears, and then dissipates into the smoke. Mikasa is vaguely aware of the wavering steam around her, of Levi flying on Falco's back and pulling her out of the Titan's mouth before everything turns hazy and white.

She can see the scene from two thousand years earlier as clear as though she were there, floating above it all: the crowd come to see King Fritz's speech, the hooded assassin's arm pulling back, the tip of the spear glinting in the daylight. The assassin lets the spear fly, its arc perfectly aimed at the heart of the tyrant. His wife Ymir, older and slimmer than the girl Mikasa met but still with those same sad, black insect eyes, watches in horror as the tip of the spear flies closer and closer; but she does not move, not even when it impales her husband through the chest and the light in his eyes is snuffed out.

In time-lapse, Mikasa sees it all: the accession of Queen Ymir, wise and fair, and the moderate reigns of her three daughters, and their daughters after them. The power of the Titans remains within the royal family, passed down from mother to daughter, a shameful, secret birthright. They create diplomatic ties with other countries, offering succor and counsel, avoiding the path of war so as not to reveal their ultimate power. There is no Great Titan War, no walls, no telepathic manipulation. The world moves forward in fits and starts as it always has, small skirmishes and occasional wars, but the Eldians remain steadfast and committed to peace. Satisfied with Ymir's choice, Mikasa finds herself closing her eyes, opening them for the first time again in the year 835, in her parents' house just outside Shiganshina, as a new doctor pulls her into the world. He is not Grisha Yeager, she notes, and then she forgets who Grisha Yeager is entirely.

In the year 845, there is no Wall Maria for the Colossal Titan to breach, and no Colossal Titan to breach it.

Inside one of the cities in what was once Wall Rose, a history teacher writes notes on a chalkboard before his first class arrives for the day. He draws a crown in the middle of the board and writes the subject of the day's class inside of it: QUEEN YMIR THE WISE. The teacher is startled by a noise behind him; he turns to find one of his students, a shy girl called Sarah, taking a seat at her desk.

"School hasn't started yet," he says. "You're supposed to be outside."

"I'm sorry, Mr. Smith," Sarah replies. "I was looking at a really interesting bug and the other girls started making fun of me."

The teacher nods. "All right, just this once. If you’d like, sometime I could teach you how to stand up to those girls."

Hundreds of miles away, the forests of Dauper ring with the whoops of an exuberant girl, triumphing at having killed her first deer with a bow and arrow she carved herself. She doesn't care that she's scaring the other game away with her commotion, or that she has no idea how she'll lug a hundred-pound carcass all the way back home.

In Trost, a young boy lingers over his breakfast; not because he wants to miss school, but because his mother's omelet is the most delicious thing he's ever eaten and probably ever will eat. His mother ruffles his hair and pinches his round cheek, then gently chides him to eat faster or he’ll be late.

A little boy in Ragako District, a few inches shorter than his friends, demands another explanation of the multiplication tables. He doesn't quite understand the concept, goes blank when his friends try to explain arrays of rows and columns, but he believes that he can pass today's test if he tries hard enough.

Across the sea in Marley, the prosperous Eldian District is strewn with streamers, celebrating the 2000th anniversary of the assassination of the cruel King Fritz. The children have the day off from school and are gathering in the streets, purchasing candy and ice cream from vendor stalls and exchanging them as gifts to celebrate the sweetness of life. A little blond girl receives an extra coin from her father, who tells her to get something special for herself.

A few blocks away, a doctor fills his medical bag and sets off to see his first patient of the day. As he walks through the crowd of happy children, many of whom he’s delivered himself, he hopes that his only son will change his mind and join the family business.

In Mitras, a shopkeeper opens his door for the first time, pausing for a moment in the early morning sunshine to admire the wooden shingle hanging by his doorway, gently swinging in the breeze. It depicts a hand wrapped around a mug of tea, wisps of steam rising into the air above it.

The door opens while he's adjusting the canisters on the shelf behind the counter, making sure their labels face perfectly forward. His heart leaps at the tinkle of the doorbell. He picked the most musical one, the one that made him happiest when he heard it, and he feels very good about his decision.

"Hello, welcome to Ackerman Tea— Mom!" His voice takes on an adolescent whine when he addresses his mother, which makes him feel like a child and impossibly old at the same time, despite his twenty-six years.

"Did you really think I wouldn't be your first customer?" she asks, beaming. "Of course I'm going to come support my sweet boy." Her gaze sweeps over the shop, its walls painted a deep forest green, the mahogany counter polished to a mirror shine. "I'm so proud of you, Levi. You've worked so hard and it shows." Her voice quavers, her eyes filling with tears.

"Moooom," he trills, softer this time, quietly moved. Her presence feels like an auspicious omen, a reminder from the universe that someone will catch him should he fall. "Is there a tea you’re interested in, or would you like me to help you choose? We have more than thirty varieties."

"You've been practicing," his mother notes with a nod.

Levi shrugs off her comment, feeling a bit bashful that she’s noticed his hard work. "I've never been great with people, and this job is nothing but people. At least until I can hire someone to cover the counter while I blend tea in the back."

"You'll get there soon," she says, pulling a few coins from her purse. "Get me something you'd think I'd like."

He thinks for a moment, his brow furrowing in concentration, before his face lights up and he grabs a step-stool to reach a canister of black tea flavored with strawberry and rose. "This one is sweet and floral, but it becomes so much more when you add a bit of milk. You don't even need any sugar."

"Perfect. You even thought about how I take my tea." She places a few coins on the counter, watching her son approvingly as he scoops the tea into a bag, folds it closed with surgical precision, and ties a blue ribbon around it. "You're going to be a success, my love. I know it."

"That makes one of us," he smirks, then scoops the coins into his palm and puts them in the cash register, enjoying the feel of the heavy keys under his fingers, the spring-loaded pressure of the drawer. He hopes he gets to use it many more times today.

"Will you be home for dinner?"

"I should be. I can't imagine people will want to buy tea at night."

"Good," his mother says. "Because now that you're in business, we should talk about finding you a wife."

"MOM!" he exclaims, a furious blush coloring his face.

Further south in Shiganshina, Mikasa sulks as her mother walks her into town, not wanting to leave the safety of her parents' cabin to learn and play with the other children. She is perfectly happy to do chores on the farm, to learn the simultaneously mundane and arcane secrets of coaxing a plant from seed, to throw feed to the chickens and pull weeds in the garden.

"Mikasa, you're ten years old. Your father and I can't teach you everything," her mother says.

"I can learn from books. I don't need to go to school."

"The fact that you're saying that means you need to go. There's more to the world than just our farm, my sweet. You might want to see the world someday."

The little girl huffs. "I doubt it." Her mother simply shakes her head and smiles, ruminating on her daughter’s impending teenage years, a possible hint of rebellion, but finds that hard to imagine. Mikasa is usually a calm, easygoing child, though perhaps a bit too inquisitive and stubborn for her own good.

Mikasa hugs her mother fiercely at the school gate, watching as she turns and walks back up the road that leads to their farm. She’s excited to make new friends and learn new things, but she misses her home more than she ever thought possible. She lets out a soft sigh, then turns to face the crowd of running, yelling children; her new classmates.

She trudges around the grassy schoolyard, dodging groups of kids chasing each other or playing impromptu games. Everyone seems to know each other already; even if she did feel comfortable enough to go up to someone and introduce herself, she has no idea who to approach first.

"Hey! Give that back!" someone screams behind her. Mikasa turns around to see a small blond boy jumping up and down, reaching for a book that a larger boy dangles just above his grasp. The larger boy just laughs at him, taunting him with the book, threatening to tear it from its spine.

Mikasa frowns, balling her fists at her sides, then approaches the boys. "He said to give his book back," she says to the bully. "Give it back."

The bully laughs. "You think you can tell me what to do?"

"I think you should give the book back if you know what's good for you," she snarls, putting her hands on her hips. The bully laughs again and shoves Mikasa out of the way with one hand, making her stumble backwards, tripping over her own feet until she lands on her behind in the dirt. She gets up, dusts herself off, and runs up to the bully, punching him square in the nose. He falls to the ground, dropping the book. Mikasa tosses it to the blond boy. The bully grabs his nose, tears welling in his eyes, and lets out a wail when he sees his hand smeared with blood.

"You leave him alone!" Mikasa threatens, looming over the bully, her dark eyes shining. He scrabbles to his feet and runs away and she lets out a relieved breath, her heart hammering in her chest.

"That was amazing!" the little boy says. When he approaches her, she finds that he's not actually that small, only a few inches shorter than her. "I've never seen you before. Are you new?"

"It's my first day," she replies. "I've lived here all my life but I haven't been to school yet."

"I'm Armin," the boy says. "What's your name?"

"Mikasa."

"That’s an interesting name. Are you from Hizuru?" Armin asks, his eyes wide with curiosity. He holds up his book, a thick, leather-bound tome, A Brief History of Hizuru and the Minor East Sea Islands written in gilt lettering. "My parents told me that the whole country is built around a volcano. A big mountain filled with liquid fire! Well, technically it’s molten rock."

"My mom's family is from Hizuru, but I’ve never been there and I don't know anything about any liquid fire mountains," she says tentatively.

"It's real!" he gushes. "I'm reading about it now. I could tell you about it more at recess if you want. I like to sit under that tree over there." He points off in the distance, at a huge pine tree that shades a corner of the yard. "They're going to ring the bell soon, otherwise I'd tell you now. Volcanoes are so cool. Sometimes they explode and shoot the liquid fire into the sky like a firework."

"Wow!" Mikasa marvels with a smile. "I can’t wait to hear about them."

#snk 139 #snk spoilers #snk leaks #snk fanfiction #alienheartattack writes

[magicalshitposts]

coughcoughYiga!Robbiecough

(Follows specifically HWAOC timeline and that version of Robbie :))

SO!

Robbie was orphaned as a really young child (like 5) and had to learn how to survive without parents real quick. He would forage and scuffle through trash to find stuff to eat, only had one pair of clothes and resided in the plains of Akkala (where he lived before his parents died)

The yiga clan were scouting around Hyrule looking for some items to help aid the calamity and a foot soldier happened upon him and wanted to take him to safety. Robbie absolutely did not trust this weird masked dude and the foot soldier had no idea what to do, so he kidnapped Robbie and took him back to the Yiga Clan hideout where a certain very-new-to-his-job top banana was just handed a 5 year old Shiekah with a bag on his head. 

Even though the Yiga clan is most certainly evil and trying very hard to kill two other very young children, they have a huge sense of family and seeing a Sheikah child in pain was not something they could stand for. 

The un-bagged Robbie who was a feral little fucker and bit the foot solider who kidnapped him and Kohga was like ‘ yup, this is my child now.

Robbie eased up very slowly over time and became rather accustomed to living in the Yiga hideout, the Yiga all adored him and would literally do anything for him as he was the only child that resided in the Yiga clan. 

They gave Robbie his own Yiga uniform but they never made him wear it, they also never told him that they were Yiga or what there intensions were as they didn’t want to scare him off or make him hate them.

They took Robbie out on out-of-uniform expeditions, to Gerudo and different parts of hyrule, both Kohga and Sooga went along on the days out but wore non specific masks as their faces were known to the public, Robbie never understood why his family had to hide their faces.

One thing that the Yiga disliked about Robbie was his love for ancient Sheikah tech and specifically guardians, (which were made to kill the calamity they were trying to reincarnate) but they didn't want to stifle his interests. So they did something against their entire core being and took Robbie to go examine guardians. They got him books on the subject. On his adoption day, he always got guardian parts and tools to assemble his own shitty guardians that the Yiga clan wanted to avoid but only praised his good craftsmen ship. They were very proud of all his accomplishments and taught him all they knew.

While it pained all of the Yiga they felt that Robbie would never really be a Yiga. It just never seemed to be in his blood.

Once Robbie grew up he left the hideout and travelled to central Hyrule, there he met Purah and they both got drafted to be Royal researchers to help fight calamity.

Robbie never told Purah about where he was raised because he never thought it would matter but Purah, who had a fair few run ins with the Yiga, complained rampantly about them. It took Robbie a very long time to put two and two together.

He was kinda lost. He knew deep down he wasn't what a Sheikah. The word just never felt right to him, but knowing what the Yiga's goal made him question a lot of his childhood.

He threw himself into his work and made sure to become the best guardian researcher Hyrule could have ever seen.

He fought alongside the champions and built himself a helluva good family

When it came to fighting the Yiga he couldn't bare too and others had to stand in his place.

Then Sooga died. Urbosa tells the others and talks about it like it's the biggest win. Robbie was fucking distraught.

One of the people who made him the young man he is died by the hands of the thing his people wanted so badly.

While Robbie obviously wanted to save the world, taking down Astor would be a nice side effect.

Then Kohga came begging to the princess to let him and the clan fight by their side.

Robbie got transported back to his past (not literally lol). He was absolutely obsessed with spending time with Kohga and mourning the loss of Sooga with him. Any minute he didn't spend working or fighting was spent with with the Yiga master and clan. And they were loving it too. They massively missed their little Robbie

Robbie told Kohga that he knew who they were and was surprised at himself for not putting it together sooner. Kohga and the Clan were scared that this meant that Robbie spending all this time with them was his way of saying goodbye, Robbie assured them otherwise

However things can't stay wholesome forever. Purah realised that the guy who's been attached to her hip for the last 5ish years is spending all his time with people who were once the enemy. She obviously pulled him up on it.

She was hurt when he told her the truth. For so many different reasons. The Yiga clan had tried to kill her, her friends and aid with killing the whole of Hyrule. Hell they'd even tried to kill Robbie, she didn't understand why he didn't tell her, she didn't understand why he still used the title Sheikah. She was confused but tried to understand.

Robbie didn't know why he used the Sheikah title either. It never felt right. The Yiga were so much more free than the Sheikah. They had a real sense of family and joy, apart from the tech Robbie had no interest in the Sheikah. It took some time to come to terms with it for him and those who surrounded him but once the calamity had been defeated and Zelda became Queen he got a formal meeting with to work on dropping his Sheikah title but be able to keep his position of lead guardian researcher in the royal lab.

Robbie then works on becoming a full blown Yiga. Purah in the end comes to terms. She's scared at first, that her best friend might change or try to kill her or their friends. But then she realises Robbie is still an annoying fuck and still the guy she knows she couldn't live without, just happier and feeling freer.

Robbie stopped wearing the Sheikah appointed attire but never changed over to the Yiga uniform. Mainly because the Yiga clan told him not too. Kohga made it clear that the clan (including Robbie) should be free to dress as the please.

Then to solidify his place in the clan, he got a tattoo of the inverted eye. This again took everyone aback a bit but Robbie wears it with pride for himself and his clan so they don’t mind much.

Even though the idea of the Yiga Clan has changed significantly as they are now not hell bent on bringing about the end of the world, and look at that view with a good amount of hate, they still have a large sense of family and take their clan very seriously. Which is something that Robbie loves about his clan. 

#omfg i am so sorry that this is so looooong #i truly truly am #i massively appreciate if you have read the whole thing #and if you have any questions then shoot them in the ask box #im also working on some art which i will post at some point lmao #the legend of zelda breath of the wild #hyrule warriors age of calamity #tloz botw #tloz breath of the wild #tloz #hwaoc #age of calamity #botw robbie #hwaoc robbie #young robbie #aoc robbie #botw purah #hwoac purah #young purah #yiga clan #yiga husbands #botw yiga #hwaoc yiga #master kohga #aoc sooga #magicalsposts #magicalheadcanons #magicalsfics #not technically but close enough #yiga!robbie

[psychic-refugee]

My thoughts on Fate: Winx Saga

SPOILERS

I was never into the cartoon, it was only in my peripheral growing up. I did like fairies in general, particularly that they had magic and could fly. Other than that, Winx just didn’t have a pull for me. I wasn’t that into the animation style, and every character was just so weirdly tall and skinny for me.

So, in terms of nostalgia or any connection with the cartoon, it’s just not there for me. I don’t have those type of complaints.

I do think the criticisms of whitewashing are fair and hopefully the writers/directors/casting directors take note.

This review is written de novo, it’s watching it as a totally outside viewer and judging it on the series itself. I will be reviewing as if I had NO prior knowledge of the show (which I basically didn’t) and will review as if the whitewashing hadn’t happened.  I'll also admit that I was in and out when actually paying attention because I got bored, so some questions might be things I missed.

I think there’s way too many references to the cartoon without any world building. They keep mentioning different realms and different types of people, there’s an entire monarchal system that it all just kind of is mentioned but not built upon. Sky’s apparently a prince but they totally glaze over that.

Some other things they mention are the Specialists. Are there “humans” in these different realms, is that what they call non-magical people who aren’t fairies? They just kind of drop Bloom into this world, and us with her, and I feel there’s no foundation. I’m just lost and clueless as to where she is and what is going on. They do some flashbacks, but they only serve to show how traumatized Bloom is and I guess make her more sympathetic.

So, there’s too many references to the show for new people…but it has none of the charm and nostalgia for fans of the cartoon series. It’s the worst of both worlds.

I don’t get why it was only six episodes. Most Netflix originals are at least 8 and usually 10 episodes. It feels like they didn’t have that much confidence in the series, or was it cut short because of Covid? I feel like they should have used those missing 2-4 episodes to world build. I would have preferred they actually show Bloom on Earth (1st realm?) pre-powers and show her meeting Dowling. Then Dowling does an in-depth explanation of Other Realm.

They basically need a Hermione to infodump.

Once again, to make the series “dark and edgy” they hire 25-30somethings to play teenagers. Bloom says she was born in 2004? If it’s 2020/21 then she’s 16/17…yeah no. Abigail Cowen is a beautiful woman, but she is not a teenager. Alfea is a school to teach fairies their magic, are they all supposed to be around that age? NO WAY they are. The girls who know they’re fairies, why are they just now going to school? It feels like they’ve known about and had their powers for a while, why is there no fairy highschool?

What’s the time period of the series? It feels like it takes place over a week, two at most. The relationships and pacing feels super rushed. Everyone is like protective and “we’re deeply close friends” even though we’re super bitchy to each other most of the time. Nothing was resolved.

Was it really just a 6-episode trailer for the actual season if it did well enough?

Why is Bloom so insanely gullible? She literally believes EVERYONE’S story they tell her even though she literally just met them.

I thought Aisha just blurting out, second day she’s known Bloom btw, Bloom’s a changeling was like super fucking harsh. Like this is beyond tactless. “Let me tell you this possibly traumatic and lifechanging news even though I literally don’t know you and I know nothing about your family or history.” And she told Bloom in the middle of the fucking mess hall, in a public place. This is just messy and lazy writing, they’re bum brushing through the season and plowing through important plot points.

Everything else feels like tired tropes on steroids. Beautiful rich girl is a megabitch with a sad rich girl story. Fat girl is shy and awkward with a heart of gold and a crush on a guy who doesn’t see her at all. They dress her in the most unflattering clothes they can find. Not that anyone has a particularly eye catching fashion sense (especially not in line with the cartoon), but fuck them for making Terra dowdy. Dane is I guess the outcast that gets pulled into what looks to be a fascist extremist group with Beatrix. Sure, why not.

Why is Dane all up in Beatrix’s snatch? “She makes me feel…” asshole, you’ve hung out with her once and aren’t even sleeping with her. He basically commits treason for two people who haven’t even shown romantic interest in him. Furthermore, Riven and Beatrix are bitchy to him, what does he get out of this friendship?

The Sky-Silva-Andreas plot makes NO sense. So, Andreas thinks Rosalind committed a war crime and wants to report her. Silva is like, no we’re soldiers and must follow orders, he is loyal to Rosalind/their military order to the point he actually “kills” Andreas to prevent him from reporting what they had just done. Sometime after that, Rosalind saves and convinces Andreas to her side…and convinces him to keep pretending to be dead and effectively abandons his son, in addition to his kingdom because he is king to another planet in the Other Realm.   

We don’t actually know if Rosalind killed regular civilians or blood witches. The latter is the story she tells and it seems Dowling and Silva believe it right away…but why? We never actually see anyone alive in that town, we only see it from a distance when Rosalind lays waste to it, and its ruins when Beatrix and Bloom investigate. We sort of know that Bloom is special, but why save Beatrix? Is she also part of a secret royal line that gives her the electricity power?

What did Rosalind tell Andreas to convince him to her side? What was worth giving up his crown and his son for 18 odd years? If he’s raising Beatrix (I guess that makes Sky and Beatrix adoptive siblings), why not snatch Sky and raise him in secret as well?

And why Andreas? I figure the guy (Silva) who literally killed his friend in order to follow Rosalind’s orders would be the guy to pick. How does Andreas go from “I’m going to report this” to Rosalind’s crony?

If Andreas is presumed dead, doesn’t that make Sky king? He may need a regent until he turns 18, but I feel like that’s something that ought to have been expounded upon.

What exactly is the hierarchy here? The Specialist train at Alfea and appear to be quasi-military/paramilitary force…but who do they report to? Alfea is on Solara, which is ruled by Queen Luna. If Andreas is a king, why is he a Specialist for a foreign government?

How where they able to cover up Andreas’ death? He’s killed by a fellow Specialist in the middle of nowhere, how could Silva not know he hadn’t killed his friend in the time it took for help to arrive?

Overall, I think the story is insanely weak. It feels like they were counting on fans of the cartoon for all the hype…but then didn’t do anything for the fans to like.

#fate winx club #winx club #spoilers

[welcometothebookreport]

In 2020, I read 40 books (with maybe a few more to be added after I post this) after discovering my love of reading all over again. I am not a very hard reader to please, so it will be rare for me to rate a book with a low score, so I doubt you’ll ever see any criticism from me. So, here we go!

A few things before I start: There are three series in this list (but technically only two, because I’ve only read Serpent & Dove so far) but I’ve limited myself to no repeat authors. That must have been the hardest part for me. Since Jessi went the extra mile and ranked them in order, I’ve decided to make myself suffer the same. And while most of these were not published in 2020, they were read in 2020.

I am (sometimes) a picky reader, but any book that is on this list, I have loved. I chose not to rate them because honestly, they would have all been high. I give ratings easily, and try not to pick things apart even for books I truly did not like.

Please keep in mind that I do my best to add trigger warnings, but you should always check for certain triggers before reading. Triggers vary for everyone.

10. Saint Anything by Sarah Dessen

Warnings: There’s a male character that’s a creep and you’ll spot him as soon as you crack this one open. This tale deals with Peyton being sentenced to prison, and their mother practically glossing over what he’s done by victim blaming.

I have read Dessen’s books since I was 13 and I truly still enjoy her stories as much as I did then. While this was a re-read for me, it’s a tie for my favorite book of hers. It’s tied with Along For the Ride.

Sydney is left in the aftermath after her older brother, Peyton, is sentenced to prison after a drunk driving accident that paralyzes a boy. Formerly in his shadow, Sydney struggles to discover what it is she wants, and how she wants to be seen as her own mother seems to gloss right over her. It’s a YA read that always feels like more than the romance that originally interested me.

9.  Serpent & Dove by Shelby Mahurin

Warnings: Misogyny. The church and religion plays an extremely heavy part of this plot, which was hard for me to get into. It’s clear that some characters do not value women in their actions and words toward Lou. It made me uncomfortable in spots because I just wanted to get past it, but I plan to read this one again since I know that it won’t bother me this time! Still, there is: violence in parts, religious zealots (in case that’s something that makes you uncomfortable like it did me), derogatory slurs toward women, and again, misogyny.

I finished this one two days ago, and I sincerely cannot wait to dig into the sequel. Lou is a witty, snappy character that was such a breath of fresh air from the normal. You usually see the male lead that’s a bit crude, a bit quick to pull the trigger, and the one that’s harder to crack. Is that what happened here? Absolutely fucking not. Shelby Mahurin took something I loved, enemies to lovers, and kicked its ass. Forced marriage? UM YES. A witch and a witch-hunter? Mortal enemies? Characters that can never possibly love each other? DONE DONE DONE.

It’s hilarious in parts. Serious when it needs to be. A bit spicy too, while not a lot, which I certainly appreciate. Reid’s character development is a wonder to watch, at least for me, and by the end of the book, I am so in love with him that I don’t know what to do with myself. I have so many annotations for this novel.

8. The Shadows Between Us by Tricia Levenseller

Warnings: There’s a fair bout of murder. Women are expected not to take lovers before marriage while men are not held to the same standard. Gross. Allessandra is continually underestimated so let me say: let the women do the work.

It’s called the Slytherin romance we’ve been waiting for, and I agree. While this is a shorter read, and a standalone, I was pleased with it. Both characters are incredibly ambitious, but it’s Allessandra that steals the show. The plan? To enter the palace, woo the king, and then kill him in order to take his kingdom. She’s wicked in all the ways I love.

I loved this book, and each page, but this was the line that will make me return to it: “I’m not a trollop,” I announce to the empty room. “I’m a sexually empowered woman, and there’s nothing wrong with that.”

The Folk of the Air Series by Holly Black

Warnings: Aside from murder, there’s nothing that stands out to me as a trigger.

A series! The first! There’s something interesting about this series for me, and it’s that I didn’t fall in love altogether, all at once. It was gradual, like wading into water until it went right over my head. By the final fourth of The Cruel Prince, I was fully invested in this world and I absolutely needed to know how Jude and Cardan would become, well, Jude and Cardan.

As a YA series, I was not expecting the sheer amount of mystery, political intrigue, and plot twists that came with this series. However, I never knew what was going to happen, and if I did guess what was coming, Black had at least two more twists to send me for a loop. The Queen of Nothing was likely my favorite book of the series, with The Wicked King as a close second.

6. Red, White & Royal Blue by Casey McQuiston

Warnings:  Discussion of attempted non-con assault, forced disclosure of sexuality

I laughed until my eyes watered and I nearly cried in this book. Delightfully funny, and snappy, RW&B delivers on everything I didn’t know that I needed. I had never read a book where LGBTQ was represented in such a positive light. As someone raised in a more conservative household, I’ve known my own sexual orientation for a long time, but this book made me feel like I could relax in my skin because this story was stunning.

Alex and Henry left me with so much hope that it’s impossible to ever put the lid back on. I’m so happy I read this.

(oh, god, we’re in the final five.)

5. The Caraval Series by Stephanie Garber

Warnings: Physical and emotional child abuse.

I could dedicate multiple posts to this series. Maybe I still will. While this is at number five, it’s my favorite series I’ve ever read. If I could only have one series to read for the rest of my life, I would choose this one. Hands down. Full stop. These characters live in my head constantly and I would give an obscene amount of things to read it all over again for the first time. I actually read this with two of my closest friends in our many book club, and we all loved it.

Doused in magic, this world is unveiled to us with excellent descriptions. Truly, Garber owned my heart within a few chapters. Scarlett is the elder sister, Tella the younger, and if you don’t love Tella by the end of Caraval, I promise you will. I know because I was skeptical, but here I am. I’ve said it to my friends, but Scarlett is the one who holds my hair while I have a hangover. Tella is the one that helps me start the bar fight.

With non-stop turns, and magic, everything comes to life on these pages. And the romance, the romance. Please, please give me my great love in this style. It’s not too much to ask for, is it?

4. Letters to the Lost by Brigid Kemmerer

Warnings:  loss of sibling, loss of parent, alcoholism, mention of infidelity, mentions of previous physical and emotional child abuse.

Mae sent this recommendation to me, and I devoured all of Kemmer’s books post-haste. Declan and Juliet fall in love without knowing who the other is, while also not liking the real version of their penpal. Juliet has lost her mother, and she’s treading water, but not well. Declan has suffered in the years that follow a family tragedy, and he’s not adapting to life with his new step-father.

But he opens with CemetaryGirl (Juliet) and it’s raw in the best of ways, and the openness between them that eventually moves from their bubble to reality is one of the most pleasing things to read. I’ve read it twice this year. I will read it again next year too.

I also read this twice this year and will for sure be reading it again in 2021.

3. The Night Circus by Erin Morgenstern

Warnings: Child abuse.

This was another novel that I fell in love with as I went, and that’s definitely because of the non-linear narrative. It was a little confusing, but I’m going to read it again someday since I know everything now! I read this to follow-up to Caraval with my book club pals, and it’s just what I needed to leave Caraval behind. Marco and Celia are incredible and I absolutely believe that the ending of this novel is one of the best endings I’ve ever read.

My book club has not finished this book entirely this so I’m not sharing any spoilers, but I would like to share one of my favorite quotes. “What did you wish for?” “I wished for her.”

2. Next Year in Havana by Chanel Cleeton

Warnings: Cuba is in the middle of a revolution, and it’s tense in parts. There are some bittersweet elements and I think the parts of the ending are like the punch in the gut you need in order to wake you up and remember to live.

This was my first read once I really dug back into this hobby in August. It was picked by Reese Witherspoon for her book club, and she always picks good books. This is a dual timeline romance, and mystery. It’s an absolute stunner of a book. It’s a dear favorite to me now. I’ve never been to Cubs, or heard stories, but Cleeton manages to make you feel like you’re right there feeling saltwater spray across your face.

The romance made me feel breathless, but truly it’s the strong familial ties that make this such a beautiful gem. It leaves you with hope even in the dark and with love in the absence of it. I could scream about this book for the rest of my life, which I absolutely intend to do.

Favorite line? “You’re going to be difficult to walk away from, aren’t you?” “I hope so.”

1 In A Holidaze by Christina Lauren

Warnings? There are none that strike me. This is a lighthearted read that pulls at the heartstrings, but it’s by no means short on the laughs. And, I’m sorry for the long wall of text below.

In A Holidaze is the story of a woman stuck in her ways of never going after what she truly wants until a stray wish lands her in a time loop over the holidays. It's only after repeating the same day a few times that she quite literally says "fuck this," and starts living for HER. I really expected this to just be a Hallmark kind of read, but it was SO MUCH MORE. You should read it, even if it's after the holidays.

It's witty, and heart-wrenching, and it's just everything I didn't know I needed. Mae is snarky, and brave when she figures out that there is nothing stopping her, and the romance is - GODDAMN. Andrew. I need an Andrew and a fan.

It's not quite a love triangle, which was what I expected and I was so pleasantly surprised. I have grinned like a goddamn fool all day. I have giggled all day in front of customers, and my co-workers. I have nearly CRIED in my bedroom when my heart fell out of my ass and landed somewhere near my ankles, because hello, it's gonna get you.

This is going on my yearly re-read list for the holidays.

In the two days since I’ve finished, I’ve convinced my two friends in book club to read it, convinced Jessi to order it from Book of the Month Club, convinced another friend to read it, and bought it for Mae on Christmas day because her library had a six month hold and that was simply unacceptable.

#kelseyreads #2020 Top 10 Reads

[lumiereswig]

what if. an amnesia fic. where they. ALL. Got. A m n e s I a

fuck. you

State dinners never put Cogsworth in a good mood. Oh, he liked them afterward, when everything was going smoothly, and he could smile and make polite compliments to the diplomats’ wives, and down congratulatory bits of brandy from the sideboard, and bask in the praise of a job well done, but the beforehand bits? With everyone fussing and carousing, and Lumiere flirting with somebody in the closet when he ought to be working, and Belle being grumpy because she had to dress in something beyond cottons and calicoes, and Adam informing him that he wanted it to be “a simple affair, really,” all the while secretly picturing champagnes and party favors—well, it was enough to put anybody off their carefully-calculated stride. And that was before the table linens got involved.

“How dare you call my napkins so, you ticking time bomb?!”

“And what do you think of calling THAT, you, you, you, you perturbed piece of paraffin?! I’ve seen better displays of kitchen linen in rubbish-bins!” Cogsworth throws the napkin down with all the spirit of a furious wombat. His cheeks bulge; his eyes start; somewhere, he is sure, a blood vessel bids its last adieu. And here stands Lumiere—all forty feet of him, in all his prodigiously lanky height, dressed to the nines and tens in golden satin, having the nerve to argue with him about table settings. Even if the man hadn’t been a candelabra earlier, Cogsworth would still assume his brains to be about as abundant as a drop of wax. “If you call this party planning, I call you an Englishman! I could have done this better myself if I were half mad!”

“Than you must have been dwelling in the asylum when you taught it to me, fifteen years ago,” Lumiere retorts. “Or have you forgotten that, too, as well as I am the master of napkin-folding?”

“You’re not the master of much, if this is your example of it. Master indeed! Master, look at what this besotted fellow calls a table arrangement, and see if you can call it much of anything.”

“Is everyone in a quarrel today?” cries Adam, rubbing his head. He has a headache brewing, but nobody seems to mind; Mrs Potts is in an awful fuss about the state of the tea-pantry, and Cuisinier is haranguing her about it, and he would go hide with Belle if she wasn’t currently arguing down the joined attacks of Madame de Garderobe and Plumette on her choice of evening wear.

He hates state dinners. He really, truly hates them. He wonders if his life would be easier if he were only a servant, with the only concern on his plate being, well, the plates.

“Do I look as though I know napkins?” he says in despair. “Work it out between yourselves, please. You’ve had enough quarrels to work through this one.”

“Don’t remind me how many times I have had to listen to this fool jabber on,” says Lumiere warningly. “I cannot bear a history with so much tension to it!”

“And I cannot bear a memory of you fawning and flouncing and forgetting how to fold a napkin because you’re chasing down a girl in a cupboard!”

“Cogsworth, be fair! The girl WAS the cupboard, at the time.”

“Don’t you go bringing up the curse at a time like this!” cries Cogsworth, wagging his finger.

“Don’t you go mentioning time, when I can tell you where that second hand pointed not too long ago! Up your forehead, wasn’t it? Or did it wind around and pat your own back for you, when the occasion warranted?”

“MY HANDS WERE MY MUSTACHE, AND YOU KNOW IT,” Cogsworth explodes, and Adam flees down the hall.

Everywhere, chaos. Maids angry at footmen for putting ladders where they shouldn’t; footmen furious with maids for putting buckets where they should have known they would step. Belle bursts from her room, ribbons all stuck in her hair, shouting at Plumette to “leave me alone, leave me alone, I don’t want to wear a gown and be a lady!”; Garderobe comes after, dressed in a new creation of hers, crying out that la princessa must submit to being royal if that was what was required. Adam sighs, and beats back his hair from his face, and sits on the only clean set of stairs in the palace with his head between his hands.

After a moment, he realizes someone is sitting next to him.

“You’re not running frantic,” he says.

“No, I’m not,” says the woman. “But I see that everyone else is.”

“State dinners are such a terrible affair,” groans Adam. “Everyone has to put on a mask, and restate their identity ten fold. Oh, I’m an Englishman! I’m a Frenchman! I’m a king, you’re a lady, you’re a gentleman, who outranks who, what is the history between nations; there’s such a fraud-filled game to play, where everyone has to be his most decided self—or how he decides to be seen—in front of everyone else.”

“And that doesn’t suit you, face-changing one?”

Adam is too exhausted to notice the shift in her voice. “When I was a monster, I was still me, and I was free to change. In front of that assembly, with all the history and petty feuds, I feel I must be one unchanging character, with my whole self hanging in the balance. I’m the Prince, and Belle’s the Princess, and we’re not allowed to be anything else.”

“Such a weight for you to bear,” says the woman, laying a consoling hand upon his knee. “To wear history on your sleeve for all to see! To feel so confined to one self—”

“Yes, yes,” says Adam, “and—what’s that you’re doing with your hand?”

Gold light pulses from the woman’s hand, rippling against his blue-silk leg in concentric rings like the surface of a pond disturbed by a dropped stone. He feels sunlight blinding him, and sees the green and blue of reflected river-plants beating against his eyes, and the sound of the water rushing in his ears.

“Be blind if you would like,” says the woman, her hand very hot against him. “Be free, if you would like.”

The sunshine grows too hot. The pond grows cold. Adam feels the beat of the stone dropping, dropping down—and drops down too, sunshine clouding both his eyes.

Chandeliers are the first thing that swan into their view. Then the dazzling ceiling, all painted cloud and sky; and then the brooms, abandoned, and the leaking mops, and the marble steps still soaked with soap-suds.

The room they’re in is sparklingly clean: as bright and airy as they feel.

They sit up. They feel their knees and bones. All right; that’s all right. They stand, and slip, and stand again. Water glitters on the floor. The reflection in the mirror—someone unknown, and dressed in blue silk, and still looking dazzled by the sun—feels the smooth expanse of the floor, as if looking for some particular stone sitting in a river that nobody can see.

It takes them a while to reckon they ought to be doing something.

“I’m sure I had something to do,” they murmur, but that’s been taken away, so they toddle off to see if somebody else has an idea.

They look in the mirror, and see the unfamiliar face again, and carry on.

More unfamiliar faces stare out of mirrors, and also windows, and sometimes doors. They find an unfamiliar face in one of the rooms, ribbon curling through her hair, looking in a mirror.

“Is it supposed to do that?” she asks.

“The ribbon? I suppose so.”

“No, the face. Why does the eyebrow quirk up like that? Who put a pinch between those brows?” She looks at him suddenly. “Do you know what you look like?”

“No, not really,” they admit.

“Now that’s strange. Because there are mirrors all over this place, and you’re in it.”

“I’m sure I knew once,” they protest. “But I lost my name on my way to finding a face, so I thought I should look for one before the other.”

“A sensible plan. Well, I can tell you part of it: that you’re good-looking; and a man; and that you have nice hair, and good teeth; and that you’re horribly under-dressed.”

“Me? Underdressed?” He points to his white shirt, his clean blue silk breeches, so clean they still have soap suds from the stair on them. “But you’re dressed in only a petticoat, and a white shift, with a ribbon falling out of your hair!”

“Ah, but I’m sure I’m meant to look that way,” she says. “Let’s stick together, us two. I think we should get along.”

They haven’t ventured far before they find other faces, though no other names. Everyone seems to have dropped one—but instead of dropping the usual ones, such as the names of famous persons, or mutual acquaintances, or other names that could afford to be lost, everyone had dropped their own and let it roll away across the floor.

“There must be a proper order to this,” insists one of them. Wombat, thinks another, and has nowhere to put the thought. “We should all line up and present, and that would make things easier.”

“Would it?” says a second, picking up a dropped napkin and gently rubbing the other’s buttons to a shine with it. “I don’t know about you, stranger, but I think we should all say at once who we might be, and drop right into it. C'est vrai, non?”

“Don’t speak German, it doesn’t help matters.” But the wombat pats his hand indulgently, and turns to survey the assembled crowd of faces. “I say we work from the known, and then work to the point this fine, finely-satined gentleman suggests. We know we are in a palace; therefore, someone must be King or Queen.”

“It must be me, then,” says one. “I am dressed fine, as regal as la princessa; my gown is twice your size, and my hair towers over this little man with the blue silk breeches!”

“Very well.” He nods; she nods; they nod. Progress has been made. The grand lady, her hands full with a confused-looking dog, bows graciously and takes a dining room table as her throne. The wombat nods. “And if there is a Queen, there must be servants, staff. Surely that is the rest of us.”

“I wish I could remember what I did,” cries the girl, her fingers lacing through the blue-silk boy’s.

“There are hints in your dress,” says another, white feathers drifting from her exquisite hair. “You have ribbons in your hand; you are dressed simply, like a maid. Perhaps you are the lady’s maid!”

“Then I must be the footman,” says the blue-silk boy, “because we belong together. And I have soap on my clothes—so I must have been cleaning the stairs.”

“And all this mess,” says the wombat—picking up a mess of napkins, and depositing them in his lanky companion’s hands to take care of (for he really looked the sort to understand such things)—"must be caused by a grand affair. A dinner, perhaps! A ceremony!“

“For the Diplomat from England,” reads the girl with the feathered wig, looking at the place setting. “For the Diplomat of France. For the Diplomat of Germany.”

“Why, that must be us!” cries the lanky one. “We have noticed already that I speak German—trés bien, I accept—and you speak French so well, my newest friend, you must be the diplomat from here.”

“I speak with a slight accent, true,” admits the wombat, “but I firmly believe I have always had a distinct liking for the French character, if I could only remember it. And that, my dear, leaves you to be the English ambassador.”

“How neatly we are seated together!” The Diplomat from the Emerald Isle offers her hand to Germany. “I’m sure we shall be great friends, in time.”

“In time!” The wombat starts. (He knows it isn’t truly French to be so tense, but sometimes he likes to break the expectation.) “That reminds me—though I don’t know why—this dinner of state likely begins soon, if the state of this table has anything to say about it. What a tremendous job you have done with those napkins, my Saxon friend.”

“Thank you! I don’t remember how, but I believe a dear friend of mine may have taught me how to do them. They look good, do they not? Servants, what do you think?”

“I don’t look as though I know napkins,” says the blue-silk footman, glancing uncertainly at his face in the mirror, “but I’m sure they’re fine, if you agree. Mistress Maid? Miss Ribbon? Beauty? Should we prepare ourselves in the kitchens?”

“I may have lost my name,” says the maid, the ribbon curling in her hair, “but at least I’ve picked up you. Let’s go, Vincente—or Charming—or Adam, or Eve, or whatever your name might be. At least I’ve got you straight.”

The dinner goes off without a hitch. Nobody from the palace remembers what they are supposed to do; if there is etiquette to these dinners, it must be guessed at. The lady in charge—the regal lady with the great gown—guesses at names, and alliances, and who should speak to whom; and the maid and the footman, unsure of due process, indulge each guest with the same broad smile and lack of notice for rank. The diplomats themselves are surprised to find new faces in the crowd; an enchanting emissary from England—a German native who speaks such good French he heals the wounds of offended Belgians, who had nearly quarreled their way with the previous diplomat into a war—a French chancellor whose fastidiousness wins over representatives long tired of the usual laissez-faire attitude of the French embassy. They talk, and skip over parts they can’t remember, and laugh and toast and sign treaties they can’t recall the advantages of; and the servants smile, and sip tea in the back—there is an awful lot of tea at this dinner, for the cook sends more and more, and the housekeeper (a man in black-checked pants, wearing a chef’s hat for a joke) can’t bear to turn her down—and they have a jolly good time, cleaning the plates and meeting each other and finding, in the other’s half-blank mind, things strikingly like their own.

The guests depart. The table rests, a mess, napkins on the floor, wine cups spilled sideways. Her highness picks up her pup and retires to the drawing room, to rest in her chair and toast her toes by the fire. The servants cuddle on the stairs, forgetting their beds, or where those beds ought to be, and falling asleep against the marble. The diplomats, lingering long over their wine, settle for sleep against crushed table linens.

As he breathes in the scent of the maid’s sweet, soap-stained hair on the palace steps, the boy thinks he hears water rushing in his ears.

He wakes, she wakes, they wake. Adam knows where he is. Belle takes a minute—”why are we on the back kitchen stairs?”—then remembers, and remembers, and gasps until her eyebrows pinch. There’s a loud crash from the dining room, and the frantic barking of Frou-Frou—the dog, the dog, of course Frou-Frou is the name of the dog—and Madame de Garderobe having a laugh in Adam’s best chair.

“Did it go horribly?!” Adam demands, skidding into the dining room. Plumette is half-crying from laughter into Lumiere’s cravat. Lumiere is using Cogsworth’s handkerchief to wipe away his own merry tears.

“We’ve probably ruined everything,” Belle cries. “That was an important dinner! We were supposed to sort out the treaty between Portugal and Rome—and, oh no, we were supposed to not put Spain near Austria—and, oh, I know we put the Turkish diplomat by the Polish, and you’re never supposed to do that—”

Cogsworth doesn’t hear a word. While they all slept, the messenger stopped by, and dropped note after note after note across the dining table of the sleeping palace; letters from across Europe, from every invited diplomat. He reads them with widened eyes.

“I don’t believe it,” he says at last, “I won’t believe it! After all my planning, all my calculating—this diplomat says they were delighted, this one that they’ve never had a better time. Poland is half in love with Turkey, after the introduction supplied last night by ‘the Queen in the grand dress’—what Queen?; and Spain tells me they’re so glad they had a chance to finally work things out with Austria, thanks to the comfort of the tea we supplied—what tea?! And here’s the Portuguese, about to become trading partners and more, and write a better treaty with Rome, modeling it on that drafted by the English emissary from last night! What are they talking about, the English ambassador wasn’t supposed to be there last night, he wrote to tell us he was ill— can’t fathom it! After all my planning, a bunch of amnesiatic idiots resolved it all!”

“And resolved more than that,” says Lumiere. “You finally admitted my napkin display was all right.”

“And you admitted I’m the friend who taught you to do them.”

“I admitted so from the first!”

“How dare you! I remember it quite clearly, and you never mentioned it.”

“Did I mention you forget many things, even when you’re not enchanted to?”

“You sputtering gaslamp, I’ll beg you to remember—”

Adam pulls Belle aside. “I’m glad I’ve got your name back,” he says, “though I wasn’t too far off with Beauty.”

“And I’m glad I know your face again,” says Belle. “I really do miss it when I’m not sure what it looks like.”

“Though it wasn’t too bad to not be ourselves, was it, and find out we’re much more than Prince and Princess?”

“Didn’t you know? We’ve always been.” Belle takes the ribbon from her hair, and uses it to tie up Adam’s messy ends. “It was a break to be someone else for a bit, but I’m glad you’re still Adam.”

“Me too,” he says. “Or at least until the next state dinner.”

#WRITTEN NEAR ENTIRELY ON MY PHONE #RIP ME #batb fanfic #beauty and the beast #batb #batb 2017 #beauty and the beast 2017 #batb 1991 #(had a touch of it with lumiere snogging the cupboard) #belle #prince adam #lumiere #plumette #cogsworth #mrs. potts #sorry for chapeau's absence he's busy not being in crack fics #CRACK #fuck yeah #FIC #amnesiaaaaa ficcccssss fuckkkk meeeee

[longsightmyth]

Queen of Glass, Chapter 3

All of these posts are typed up as I go with no forethought or planning and only a quick go-over for typos and clarity. The exception is this post, where I ran into the use of a slur that was upsetting to me personally and definitely more upsetting to a lot of people, especially non-cisgendered folks. I am uncomfortable putting it out in the open without a warning, and I’ll warn when I get to that point too. TO THE READ THROUGH.

There is a royal bathing chamber at a salt mine. I don’t know why I’m surprised anymore. Or did they leave and go to the palace when I wasn’t looking?

Celaena demands if she’s supposed to bathe herself. I would assume she was capable of applying soap to her body and rinsing it off, but I haven’t seen her use any of her actual talents yet just brag about them, so who knows? I am glad this part was cut, however, because it adds another layer of brattishness to the character:

Weren’t they supposed to have maids to do this? Or was she not esteemed enough to receive maids?

Maybe the maids don’t want to bathe me.

I wouldn’t want to bathe you either, Celaena. She further complains that the bath might be cold, and that cold or hot the water will be hell on her back (…?). Then she gets in the bath (which is an actual pool with steps and there are gold faucets and gold hooks and stuff seriously did they go to a palace or noble’s manor or Dorian’s private hunting lodge or whatever when I wasn’t looking?)

Never fear, Celaena, Chaol says her handmaidens should arrive soon. Why though?

While the Crown Prince had the voice of a celestial being, this man’s voice was filled with spite and grounded strength.

Glad that got dropped. Also glad this whole scene got dropped. It adds nothing but a royal bathing chamber in a salt mine (seriously I’m going to read back again and see if I missed something).

No? They don’t appear to have left. Skimming AHEAD to see if they leave. Okay two chapters later it says they departed at dawn, so I guess they’re still at the salt mine at this juncture. I can’t promise not to comment on the royal baths in a salt mine again, but for now we’re moving on.

As opposed to the published work, this one is definitely pushing the romance from day one. I mean, the published draft was pushing the romance from day one, but not quite this obviously:

If he hadn’t been a royal guard and she hadn’t been a great criminal, would they have gotten along? Perhaps even been friends? She suppressed a grin.

Perhaps even more?

At least in the published work Celaena is mostly still on board the hate train at this point. Even if she’s remarking on the good looks of both men, she isn’t contemplating their personalities this quickly.

I can’t believe I just typed that like it was a good thing.

There’s still a weird focus on breasts, but at least here it’s Celaena taking stock of how her body has changed I guess? It’s still a weird focus on breasts vs being able to see her ribcage or whatever. That doesn’t really change in the published version.

Okay, apparently the water is herb-filled, which does explain why it stings her back so badly. I’m not sure how Celaena knew it before (she specifically mentions that there isn’t any steam or scent in the room?) but okay.

Not okay: this entire next part. This is the part I warned for at the beginning of this. Some people may say I’m overreacting There’s a whole lot of insulting women by saying they look like men, for instance, and at one  and I don’t care. I am unclear whether the author knew the connotations, but she still damn well knew it was a slur since she used it as an insult.

By the time her “handmaidens” arrived, Celaena Sardothien had washed herself using the soap and was in the process of drying off. Her back was as close to being clean as she could manage without suffering, so naturally there was still a bit of grime coating the skin around her wounds. The servants came in a group of four—and instead of being the delicate and quiet women that Celaena had expected, these handmaidens were more like handmen. They were all much taller and heavier than Celaena, with biceps that were nearly as large as her waist. They wore crisp white dresses that did not compliment their broad frames and their hair was drawn back so tightly that their brutish, hairy faces were stretched out. If it weren’t for the massive breasts that seemed on the verge of bursting out of their dresses, Celaena would have thought that they were actually men.

They took one look at the naked Celaena and rushed at her.

The poor assassin yelped in terror as the she-men dragged her back to the pool and threw her into the cold water (by now it had turned quite icy). Chaol Wydrael turned in time to see a pair of flailing legs and arms be tossed beneath the surface with a huge splash.

Honestly this is proof that SOMEONE, SOMEWHERE, read over all the terribleness in later books and decided it was fine, because this got removed. Don’t get me wrong - I am so glad this got removed. This should never have been written in the first place. I kinda want to see the comments from where this was originally posted because SURELY someone went ‘hey maybe that’s not cool’ so that I can retain my faith in general decency. What the fuck.

That being said, this did not make it to the published version, so it’s entirely possible that the author herself learned better. I’m not sure it’s likely, given Dorian’s comments in Empire of Storms, but it’s possible.

How the fuck did I ever forget that bit?

Wait it’s not over. Celaena continues to vocally doubt their femininity to Chaol (echoes of her comments about Kaltain a little? Even though Kaltain was TOO feminine for Celaena. Nobody can win, I guess). Chaol takes her to a room where “three very gentle-looking women” wait for her. These are her actual handmaidens, apparently. They are gentle when dressing her and dressing her wounds.

Celaena then deals with the bane of YA heroines the world over: corsets. Oh wait. We have to get some more fat-shaming in.

They had come into fashion, invented by some overweight fool from Belaegyr, just a few months before her capture, and the assassin had refused to buy one after going into a dress shop, trying it on, and feeling as if her rib cage were being broken in six places.

This isn’t limited to Throne (or Queen) of Glass by any means, but a corset is actually pretty comfy when it isn’t tightened to unreasonable lengths. They’re pretty supportive, and my back always feels great in them. Also I love how only naturally thin women are cool, but this is Queen of Glass and we knew that already. I do like the nod to fashions changing.

Chaol thinks she’s pretty.

His eyes widened as a grin spread across his face. Unlike the Crown Prince, his smile was not so seductive as it was foolishly amusing.

“Well, gods above! You clean up like a copper coin!” he laughed aloud. “My Lord will be very pleased indeed! I knew that there was something pleasant to look at underneath all that dirt. Now, my Lady, if you will take my arm, I would be more than happy to lead you to my Lord so that he may have a look at the princess we have created.”

He leads her off, presumably to see Dorian again. Celaena scowls the whole way, which I have to say is fair.

#myth reads queen of glass #myth reads #myth rags on Throne of Glass #bigotry #bullshit #slur #slurs #transphobia #I think? #just all the things

[amplesalty]

Halloween 2021 - Day 3 - Minotaur (2006)

You mess with the bull, you get the horns!

So, full disclosure, this movie’s place on this marathon only exists because of the vast amounts of time I’ve spent playing Hades ever since it popped up on Gamepass a few months back. I’ve tried a couple of rogue likes before but never ever truly stuck. Spelunky I think I did a handle of attempts, Rogue Legacy had a few, Dungeons of Dredmor I played a little bit years ago. FTL is the one I was most into, even managed to be it albeit on the easiest setting. I think being turned based probably helped out a lot since I could use it as a secondary thing I was doing whilst I was watching YouTube videos or listening to podcasts. It’s kinda easier to split your focus when you’re not needing to use your reflexes to handle platforming and action combat whilst you’re trying to absorb something audibly.

Hades shares that same sort of addictive ‘one more go’ quality that I suppose is reflected in all rogue likes. That frustration of failing in a run but feeling the inspiration to go again straight away because you got so close and maybe things would have gone better if I’d taken this route or picked up this power up. It does poke at something I like in games, being able to incrementally improve your character so even if you are failing, you know that behind the scenes you are getting better in a pure numbers sense whilst also learning more on the mechanics and the levels of the game itself to help you become a better player. Hades is also wrapped up in a Greek mythology bow so you have something of a basic knowledge going into it from things you’ve picked up in school or general pop culture so it’s cool when you come across the likes of Zeus, Poseidon, Cerberus or Sisyphus.

Even leaning into the ‘horror adjacent’ nature of these moviefests I felt it was something of a stretch to try and shoehorn Jason and the Argonauts or Wrath of the Titans in here. Yeah, they might have stuff like the Kraken, Hydra or those cool stop motion skeletons but it’s more of a fantasy/adventure type thing. Luckily, I learnt that this movie existed and it’s listed as a horror movie. Plus it has Tom Hardy and Tony Todd, sold!

Their participation is probably the only things this movie has going for it so purely on that novelty factor maybe it’s worth checking out? I imagine it has a place as one of those movies that people check out in a ‘before they were famous’ sort of way. One of the top Google results for it is a review by Lindsay Ellis on themarysue.com. The mid 00’s I’d say is right before Hardy really started breaking out. Which isn’t to say he wasn’t in notable things before, to have your first film credit be Black Hawk Down is pretty good and I had no idea he was the Picard clone in Star Trek: Nemesis. But the late 00’s, early 10’s is when you truly start to get those bigger names: Bronson, Inception and, of course, The Dark Knight Rises. I wouldn’t say he did a bad job here or anything, he doesn’t really do anything to stand out but it’s a fairly non-descript movie so you can’t really blame him. He’s not a patch on the Theseus in Hades though. Kind annoying to fight with that spear he throws at you but he’s very theatrical and over the top in the way he greets you upon your entry into the battlefield. I don’t think I’ve ever really seen too much of Hardy’s work but presumably he gets better from here. I mean, everyone raves that Mad Max is the greatest thing since sliced bread, really should check that out sometime. And, tenuous link between him and Tony Todd, Hardy is obviously Venom in the Sony universe but apparently Todd is going to voice him in that Spiderman sequel on PlayStation. That’s going to be awesome.

Todd gives some socks as King Deucalion, a very authoritarian ruler that arranges for the abduction of eight youths from the Village of Thena every three years as a form of revenge for one of their people killing a royal Prince. Well, as youthful as a near 30 year old Tom Hardy can be. From there they are given as tribute to the titular Minotaur who roams in his labyrinth beneath the palace. It’s here that Hardy as Theo is set on going as a local witch type lady tells him that his lost love was not killed during her abduction some years ago and that he is to go the labyrinth to save her.  Fair play to you if you manage to not only outwit the great beast but survive down there for so long.

Deucalion kinda has a vibe to him similar to King Xerxes in 300, both bald and showing a lot of skin. Has his own pit he likes to send people down too, though I suppose it was Leonidas’ pit in 300. Both Xerxes and Deucalion seem to be depicted as having hair and beards in historical paintings of them so not sure where this bald look comes from, maybe someone has an agenda in Hollywood to try and portray bald men as powerful in order to gloss over the stigma of losing ones hair.

The depiction of the Minotaur too seems a little off, spending all of it’s time on all fours. The Minotaur is generally depicted as bipedal, right? Like it walks around and it’s usually carrying some form of weapon like a hammer or polearm? Suppose with the Minotaur they follow the path of the standard horror movie monster by holding off on showing him until relatively late on, not that he’s much to look at with the time period, low budget CGI. Think they have some puppet work going on for the close ups though so that’s a bonus.

Budget clearly didn’t stretch to editing out the wires when people try climbing out of the pit.

The Minotaur doesn’t make for the most interesting or varied of killers though, just gores everyone the entire time and most of them are off camera. Either you just get the shot of the blood splatter on the wall or you hear someone’s screams of agony echo throughout the chambers of the labyrinth. I assume it’s blood anyway, maybe the Minotaur just stepped on a ketchup bottle.

They do kinda blow their load straight away though with one of the first kills where you this one girl talking to the group and all of a sudden she’s impaled through the back of her head and out through her mouth. Nasty!

Almost as nasty as some of the things going on in the bedroom in this universe. Aside from the incestuous relationship of King Deucalion and Queen Raphaella, you also have the origin story of the Minotaur which kinda doesn’t make sense. Like, the intro talks about how the people grew tired of worshipping a stone God and demanded a living one and wanted their Queen to offer herself to the Bull so that they could create the meeting of man and God. And we see her disrobe in front of one of the statues so...did the bull God manifest itself as a living being to impregnate her or did she fuck the statue? I mean, I guess it is a God so it can do what it wants so if it wants to make a statue capable of reproducing it can but how does that work? I know in the actual story it was a live bull that Poseidon used to punish Minos by having his wife fall in love with and mate with it. I don’t know why I’m dedicating this much thought to this debauchery. Feckin’ Greeks, they invented gayness.

#Halloween 2021 #Minotaur

[ruffoverthinksthings]

Alysane-Mormont’s Questions About The Isle, Answered

@alysane-mormont

tumblr is being stupid and won’t let me reblog. Anyway, *cracks knuckles* let’s do this.

1. The involvement of Auradon in the Isle.  How much do they have? Are the housing and money controlled?  Do the villains have to pay for to live on the isle?  Are they assigned jobs and such?

Auradon was involved in the construction of the initial buildings, the creation of the islands it stands on (presumably using the leftover land from the moving of the original states, like dead zones used as buffers while they fused them together), and of course, imprisoning/resurrecting all the villains, their minions, and other criminals there.

They have no control AGU (After Great Uniting), nor do they want to; all of the Islanders are basically left to their own devices.

No, the Villains don’t need to pay. It’s a prison, you don’t pay for your own accommodations. Whatever Auradon Silver Dollars are currently circulating among them are the same Auradon Silver Dollars they were given 20 years ago, save a couple hundred lost to damage or carelessness, so at least inflation is non-existent and steadily dropping.

They might have been once upon a time, but whatever infrastructure Auradon left them behind has long been destroyed, abused, or stolen and broken beyond use.

2. Food.  Where are they getting their food on the island? The Isle doesn’t seem to be big enough to grow enough food for the entire island.  Are they getting food delivered from the island?

They get most of their food from the trash barges that Auradon sends over. The Isle of the Lost is literally their dump, and because Auradonians are so wasteful, they throw almost to entire packs of perfectly good food in there, or toss bread as soon as it gets a day old, or stale.

They ARE growing, hunting, and catching food, but just barely. You can see in Descendants 2 that Harry collects /steals some fish from a girl fishing by the dock, and delivers it to one of Ursula’s staff at the Fish and Chips.

Aside from fish and shellfish, they eat rats, wild dogs, insects like cockroaches, and the occasional alligator if the population gets too big and starts crawling up off the beach and snacking on them.

3. Government.  Maleficent is in charge, but what does that mean?  That she chuckles evilly, and says she is? Does she have a council, is it EQ, Jafar, and Cruella?  A lot of the problems on the Isle could be solved by a good government not run by a fairy made of ham and anger, a former vizar not giving advice, a woman who probably spent all my kingdoms money on botax, and a clearly unhinged puppy killer.

Maleficent has an army of thugs that keep her fed, in the lap of Isle luxury, and from anyone trying to rise up and overthrow her. Otherwise, she leaves everyone to their own devices unless she needs someone specifically for whatever reason, and has lieutenants doing the business of keeping things in some semblance of order to try and minimize violent revolts.

As the saying goes, “I have minions for that.”

Evil Queen, Jafar, and Cruella are her fellow power players, or more likely, enemies she tolerates keeping closer than others.

Yes, a lot of their problems CAN be solved by Good Government, but like any IRL government, there needs to be support from the people, the administration, and someone willing to pay for it. It is NOT in Maleficent’s interest to have a fair, egalitarian government where she isn’t getting the lion’s share, nor will she dedicate precious resources towards creating one, nor do the majority of the population have the capability or the desire of working together to overthrow her and make something better.

The issue is, even if they hypothetically defeat Maleficent, they start fighting among themselves for who gets to sit at the highest seat and lord over everyone else and get the lion’s share, and unlike majority of the population, Maleficent is immortal, immune to sickness, does not need to eat, sleep, nor go to the bathroom.

There were a LOT of rebellions and their members who were done in by poison and sickness through the abuse of the Isle’s unsanitary conditions, starved or dehydrated to death or submission, or quite literally went down the toilet, along with the bodies of the rebels themselves.

4.  Business.  How does any, non food, business stay in business?  No one pays for anything.  They probably only pay for food cause that shit would be a lot harder to steal cause see #2.

They fish, they try to farm, they get their ingredients from the trash barges. People frequently steal, yes, but the proprietors ALSO rip off and steal from their customers, which gives new meaning to the sign “Please don’t leave your valuables unattended.” That aside, certain establishments like Ursula’s Fish and Chips are a reliable enough source of food that people will pay for the convenience—better lighter several silver dollars, than with several new bumps on your head and lacerations beside.

That aside, Harry Hook makes a real killing as security, alongside being a “tax” collector.

5. Why was Mal and the others in charge?  This one is probably due to me not yet reading the prequels, but they never seem to go beyond bullies.

Like Ben or the other royals: birth. In Descendants, who your parents or ancestors were is EVERYTHING.

6. Population.  Auradon is clearly okay with the Villains reproducing, so what happens in a generation or two when they grow to big for the Isle?  Leave them and let the Isle fall farther into poverty then it already is?

They let them overcrowd and deal with it themselves, and will probably not care about the hell that happens, the food riots, and the more… drastic measures they take once space and resources get non-existent.

7.  Who gets put on the isle? The major villains, sure obviously.  But what about their henchmen?  Are they guilty by association, and for doing their jobs?

All criminals, from highwaymen, buccaneers, thieving traveling showmen and women, evil sorcerers, larcenous prostitutes, corrupt businessmen, shady tax collectors, gang enforcers and extortionists, you name it.

They’re guilty by association, though I assume some have been given consideration, like Robin Hood and his Merry Men.

8. How canon are the sequels?  Are they ALL noncanon, some? Peter Pan 2 and Rescuers 2 were in theaters, so do they count? I like to think based on D2, that Cinderella III is canon.

All sequels are non-canon, as are the animated series. I don’t consider this true for my headcanons, as all the sequels and animated series’ add so much more to the series.

9. Which actual non-sequel Disney princess movies count?  The Black Cauldron obviously, but what about like Lilo and Stitch or Atlantis?

Lilo and Stitch and Atlantis are presumed not included, until further notice. This can be evidenced by the lack of aliens, or that of flying vehicles.

10.  Why didn’t any of the Villains hook up.  TV Tropes taught me that Frollo x Gothel have a following. and Maleficent and Evil Queen might be a thing.  Why don’t they have more inter-dating, why are they all single parents?

Because the power of Shipping is one thing, actually compatible personalities for a long-term relationship that lasts enough for procreation is another. Generally speaking, you’re asking TWO paranoid, selfish, violent, and narcissistic beings to try and compromise, have empathy for another person, and show some semblance of love or care for them to be willing to have sex with them, among other things.

Even if ONE of them is willing to make it work, go google see “I Dated A Narcissist” to see how well that goes.

All of the VKs parents are presumed minor henchmen and non-notable villains, dead, or purposefully forgotten after they got the known parent pregnant/bore them children, such as Mal’s dad, “He-Who-Shall-Not-Be-Named-In-Front-Of-Maleficent” or “Nameless,” for short.

11.  Poor Claudine.  Who the hell let Frollo have a kid, a daughter no less.  If HoND taught us anything it’s you don’t need love to be happy, but another thing was don’t allow Frollo need woman or children.  And he has one.  Someone tell me Claudine is living with someone better like the Horned King or something.

Auradon did, by virtue of not caring in the slightest, and the Islanders did also, by not caring what the fuck the crazy, lecherous, delusional, self-righteous preacher does, and what poor unfortunate soul lets themselves be taken in by his silver words, or finds themselves in such desperate conditions he’s the better option.

No, Claudine is living in Frollo’s decrepit church. She rings Dragon Hall’s bell-tower, as well as that of her father’s church/her home.

12. What do you lose when you go to the Isle?  Jafar isn’t in genie form anymore, but Ursula has tentacles.  Is the Horned King still the master of my nightmares?

Everything, basically, except for the clothes on your back—even your family name and all associations are removed, as a character like Dizzy Tremaine is referred to as “Dizzy of the Isle.”

Ursula still has tentacles because she was born that way. It’s an inherent part of her being, while Jafar was changed from a human into a genie. The Horned King has presumably lost that job, or someone much kinder has taken care of it.

13. Why weren’t the children removed at birth?  Disregarding the fact that they were all growing up in abusive situations, why would you allow Villains to bred a future generation of children to be villains?

BECAUSE AURADON DOES NOT GIVE A FUCK ABOUT VILLAINS, OTHER THAN THEM BEING IMPRISONED AND FAR AWAY FROM THEM, OUT OF SIGHT, AND OUT OF MIND. Think of Auradon as basically every ass-backwards, heavily conservative Southern USA state you can think of that still thinks flying the Confederate flag is a good idea, and a thing of pride.

14.  Who they hell thought this was a good idea?  Lock all the villains on isle, bring them back to life if you have to? They should hope they barrier doesn’t fall cause you have a whole lot of people who can use magic and are angry at you. Chernabog is probably in there, Hades and the Titans, the Horned King, all people who can destroy everything. If you wanted to make the villains suffer, they should have been put in custom made prison, like the Red Lotus in Legend of Korra. The entire Isle is a ticking time bomb that could destroy Auradon.

Majority of the population and a good deal of the Royals. Please remember: most of these states came from Western Europe in the Medieval Ages, where the public beheading of criminals was an event that parents willingly brought their kids to see. They are from cruel, vicious, vengeful times where the Miranda Rights, the Geneva Convention, or what we know as the right way to deal with criminals—treat them humanely, then reintegrate them into society—has yet to even be considered an idea, or worse yet, treated as blasphemy of the highest order.

To them, if you do “evil,” you deserve evil in return, and kindness is reserved for those that “deserve” kindness.

The Auradonians are also very vengeful people who hold serious grudges. They like to think of themselves as the “absolute Good” people which is how they justify their evil actions—they wouldn’t be in Auradon if they were capable of doing “bad” things, now, wouldn’t they?

Think of it as how Frollo justified setting the entire city of London on fire and murdering countless Romani people in cold blood—he is the Judge, he is the Symbol of Good, therefore all his actions are Justified and Right.

Yes, they better hope that barrier stays up, as Maleficent damn near screwed over the entire kingdom if Mal and the others hadn’t fought her.

All those deities are there, but they’re severely depowered. It’ll take a while or an explicitly magical artifact like Maleficent’s staff, which hasn’t been drained entirely, for them to be able to wreak havoc again. It’s why Fairy Godmother’s wand is so highly sought after.

This entire realm is a ticking time bomb. On the one hand, you have the Isle, on the other, you have the systematic oppression of minority classes like the Fae with the magic ban, the dwarves being used as slave labour, and “animal rights” being limited to “you do all our household chores for us, and you get nothing in compensation.”

Not even Pongo and Perdita are given a scholarship or any sort of support for their 101 children, now ready to go to college, and Ben is only beginning to redress their grievances.

Beast ran this country by yelling, stomping his feet, and bullying everyone into following whatever HE wanted to do, damn principles like compromise, empathy, or sanity, and only now are we seeing how bad of an idea that is, and the majority of the Royals are too busy having tea parties and the commoners fawning over 24 hours news coverage of how pretty they are and the dresses they are wearing to even care about the impending collapse of their unsustainable and unjust society.

In case it wasn’t obvious, Disney’s attempt to make a series that shows that there is no Pure Evil or Pure Good made their most horrifying Dystopia yet.

#author's note #disney #descendants

[dontfindyourcenter]

Chapter 9/Trial 3:  Trial hard with a vengeance

Rules: https://dontfindyourcenter.tumblr.com/post/177027661290/rules

Previous Chapter: https://dontfindyourcenter.tumblr.com/post/177417565235/chapter-8trial-2-grass-and-electric-boogaloo

Ok guys, I know I’m meant to go to the Battle Royal Dome.  I know the game spent a whole lot of the last chapter name dropping the Battle Royal.  I know that I am, eventually, going to have to go into the Battle Royal Dome.

But I don’t have to go in yet.  And that makes me kind of curious!  Since the very beginning of this game, I’ve been unable to wander too far ahead of the plot development in front of me.  When I had to go to the trial on Brooklet Hill, two unbattlable Sudowoodo stood in the way of route 6; when I first touched down in Heahea City, a man riding a Stoutland blocked the way to the other half of Heahea City; and I can hardly think of a single pathway from one part of Melemele Island to another that wasn’t originally blocked off by either a tauros, a barrier, or the disembodied voice of an NPC.  So with nobody blocking off the alley leading away from the Battle Royal Dome, how far can I actually go without going in?

All the way to the top of Wela Volcano Park, as it turns out!  It’s only when I get to the gates of the third trial when someone finally says “uh, you can’t go in here, you have to have a cutscene introducing the trial captain after the Battle Royal first.”  I’m glad the game is starting to recognise that it doesn’t need to hold the player’s hand quite so tightly, and I celebrate my freedom by picking up all the items I can find both inside the Volcano Park and in the watery area outside on route seven, including the TMs for Thunder Wave and Rock Tomb..  Poor Hau and Gladion are probably going bored out of their minds waiting for me to turn up, and I don’t care one bit.

All right, I think that’s everything.  Let’s see what this Battle Royal fuss is about, shall we?

Oh yeah - the Masked Royal is here to inject the game with campy fun!  Something that I really enjoy about this game is that - as far as I’m aware - his true identity is technically never revealed.  Oh, a lot of people in the game make some wild accusations about it being Professor Kukui, but apart from the two characters sharing their skin colour, little goatee, signature pokemon, and habit of baring their chests… there’s no actual proof.  Ok, also I guess they reveal later in the game that Kukui owns a mask that looks identical to the Masked Royal’s one, but what, are we meant to believe wrestling merch isn’t a thing in this world?  Headcanon:  Kukui is just a massive fanboy of the Masked Royal’s.

The Masked Royal ropes me, Hau and Gladion into a battle royal, then says “and now we have our foursome.  Woo!”  Please don’t call it that, mister Royal, you’re a barely-clothed grown man talking to a group of children.

Anyway, the Battle Royal starts, with Hedwig going toe to toe with Royal’s rockruff, Gladion’s type:null and Hau’s brionne.  Having met Hau before, I know that he’s the weakest player here, so I focus all my attacks on his brionne.  His brionne faints.  The Battle Royal is over.  What a terrible introduction to a cool new feature of the game.

And having finished that, we get the cutscene with Trial Captain Kiawe I was promised!  The camera immediately focuses on his bare chest, where it becomes apparent that he’s wearing a necklace in the shape of a games console’s “+” control pad.  Dude, we get it, you’re a gamer.

I’ve already pointed out how much of an edgelord Gladion is, and he’s at it again here, doing a whole monologue about he and his pokemon have to make it on while covering half of his face with his hand.  “Oh no the disembodied hand from before is back and it wants my eye!  Flee!  Flee for your lives!”  Even Hau picks up on how over-the-top it all is, calling him a “ray of sunshine” as he walks away.  I get the feeling there’s probably a lot of fanfiction about those two.

All that done, my pokemon have been fully healed.  Don’t know who did that or when, but I’ll take it.  And just in time for the third trial, too!  To Wela Volcano Park, everyone!

Since I can remember that this trial doesn’t let you switch the order of your team around between battles, I put Celine McQueen the Slowpoke in first position, because I think she’ll have the best chance against the totem pokemon.  In the meantime, though, I don’t want her getting tired out, so I switch her out to other members of my party to take care of the non-totem pokemon.

First up is a dancing alolan marowak, and since it’s part ghost type, I switch to Jabba the alolan grimer.  Jabba does a fair bit of damage by biting it, but here’s the bit I stupidly overlooked; it’s a marowak.  That means it knows Bone Club.  That leaves Jabba on less than half health.  Correctly assuming that the marowak will use Bone Club again, I switch to Hedwig, who’s immune to ground type moves, and since he outspeeds marowak, he’s able to finish the marowak off with no trouble.

Next up, the internet’s favourite photobombing Hiker, who sends out a magmar.  My initial response is to send out Wash the trumbeak, since he’s a strong pokemon that is nevertheless unlikely to be particularly useful in the totem battle.  The magmar thwarts me, though, by continuously using smokescreen until Wash’s moves have no chance of hitting at all.  Frustrated, I apply a super potion to Jabba and send him out again, and he’s able to beat the magmar with a couple of Rock Tombs.

Finally, the totem Salazzle!  Her aura flares to life and boosts her special defense, which frankly stops Celine being quite the secret weapon I was hoping for - the only psychic- and water-type moves she currently knows are both special attacks, and her special attack isn’t her best stat to begin with.  I think this battle’s going to be a toughie.  She starts things off with a Toxic attack, while Celine uses yawn, and then a wild salandit gets summoned to join in the fun.  Feeling like Celine might be more useful later on now that she’s already yawned, I switch out Nina.  It’s a good thing I do too, because the salandit uses venoshock, which does double damage on poisoned targets.  

Nina can take a hit, though, and now the totem is asleep, so she doesn’t have to worry about being hit by toxic.  I decide that it might be useful to use sand-attack a couple of times, hoping that I’ll get the totem’s accuracy low enough by the time she wakes up that I won’t have to worry about Toxic quite so much.  No such luck though, because the supporting salandit uses taunt, stopping me from using any other status moves.  I use rock throw instead, and end up doing quite a bit of damage before she wakes up and uses toxic.  Luckily, the salandit only uses poison gas, which is useless with Nina already poisoned.  Still, time to switch out to someone new, I think.

I choose to send out Wash, the only pokemon on full health without a major weakness against my opponents.  It’s at this point that the single sand-attack I managed to use earlier surprisingly pays off; Salazzle’s attack misses, and Wash is able to use two whole attacks against it during his time in battle.  Even better, one of those moves is pluck, so I can rob the Salazzle of an advantage I didn’t even know it had - a Petaya berry, which (had it not been stolen) would have raised her special attack as a result of that very hit.

Less fortunately, Wash is only on 8 HP now, so I have to switch pokemon again.  I’m quickly learning that this is a pretty major disadvantage when you’re facing two pokemon against one, since it gives both opponents a free move.  So even though the salazzle won’t be able to take another hit, the pokemon I switch in will have to be able to take four hits in order to deal that finishing blow (unless it manages to outspeed the salazzle, but the only pokemon likely to do that is Hedwig, who definitely can’t take three hits from these guys).  Since both my opponents seem to mostly use poison-type moves, I think my best bet is Jabba.

I was wrong. Salazzle uses Flame Burst and it does much more damage than I was expecting, and salandit uses scratch.  Jabba faints.  ...That’s not great.

Ok, wait, maybe I can use a revive and still salvage this.  Celine might be poisoned, but she’s on nearly-full health.  If I let out Celine and use the revive, she’ll still be able to take two hits, and then I’ll be able to switch pokemon to someone else and be really sure that salazzle won’t use flame burst, because that’s a terrible move to use on a slowpoke.  It’ll be ok.  Here we go.

I was wrong again guys, venoshock did more damage that I was expecting too, Celine dies.  Fuck.  

I guess it’s time to accept that not everyone is going to make it out alive.

Resigned to that fate, I actually manage to finish the battle without all that much trouble.  With Celine dead, I’m able to send out Hedwig without giving the other two any free moves.  Hedwig doesn’t outspeed the salazzle in the end, but does manage to evade her attack and finish her off.  At this point, I realise that I actually already know all four of the salandit’s moves and none of them are fire-type moves, so I switch in Digit Al, who beats it easily.  But with Celine dead, it’s a bittersweet victory.  I’ll really have to train more before the next trial.  Sorry, Celine McQueen.  

Still, on the plus side, the average quality of my team’s nicknames has just shot up.

Weird plot hole here, by the way.  Kiawe says “the totem pokemon was carrying a firium z.  It is yours now.”  That’s a bare-faced lie!  The totem was carrying that petaya berry, and even totems can’t carry more than one item!  What’s that all about?  Still, Kiawe gives me ten quick balls, which should be helpful for catching Celine’s replacement.  I can let him off for telling a weird lie.

On my way out of the mountain, I catch a cubone to fill Celine’s slot in my party.  Since I know she’ll evolve into an alolan marowak, I call her Donna, after the Mamma Mia character.  You see, she’s a dancing queen, and there’s a fire within her soul.  Could have been worse, when all is said and done.

End of chapter 9

#donna #mamma mia #pokemon #pokemon sun and moon #Pokemon moon #Alola #no Center challenge #suicide run challenge #kiawe #trial captain kiawe #gamer

[thatsnotperiod-blog]

HOT DOG after what seems like and may actually be years of waiting I am watching Wolf Hall for free. 

It starts with the Good Stuff, which is to say 1529 when Henry VIII had succumbed to full-fledged Annulment Madness. Some intro text tells us this, and that Henry is sure all delays are Cardinal Wolsey’s fault. 

AND NOW THIS. Early in the morning, six riders are clomping up to York Place in London. Inside, a man I presume is Cromwell is watching the sunrise and lighting lamps. Jonathan Pryce in the role of Cardinal Wolsey prepares himself for a confrontation.

“Wolsey, you’re out!” is the first line uttered on this show. It’s not... as much of a humdinger as maybe they wanted. The guy uttering it is one of Lord Norfolk or Lord Suffolk, and considering that the latter of these two men was played by literally Henry Cavill on The Tudors, these two are disappointing. The point of the scene is that Norf and Suff are eager to bring down their enemy, and Wolsey is gracious, canny, and supported by the clever, loyal Thomas Cromwell. Meanwhile, Suffolk literally is breathing with his mouth open. 

But still the next morning the Yeomen of the Guard (kidding) are there packing up Wolsey’s shit so Mouth-Breathing: 1 Wolsey: 0. They punt off in a ... punt, I guess, and Wolsey is sticking up for King Henry graciously, while his men gripe about how it’s unfair. “Do you think it’s something about the English? They cannot see a great man set up but they have to pull him down?” Well Hilary Mantel certainly thinks so. 

EIGHT YEARS EARLIER. 

Anne Boleyn at a masked ball at the royal palace or whatever, where everybody is dressed as a virtue. This scene feels like a big fuck-you to The Tudors version of the exact same thing, all the women have their hair in bags, nobody’s shoulders are sticking out, there’s no grommets on anybody and the men are appropriately in tights and shoes. Joke’s on this show though, because no matter how smug they are about this costuming the end result is that this scene is full of people dressed like dopes. Also, Anne is dancing with Harry Percy and not Henry VIII. 

Wolsey is chewing out Anne’s dad for this dancing impropriety. He has a solution though: marry her off asap before anyone gossips. Ho hum, life in the past.

Speaking of life in the past, the same people who get worked up about grommets and snoods tend to get extremely worked up about lighting in period television, specifically, there is too much of it. With no ambient light and only so much physical space to put candles in, after the sun set people spent much of their time in extremely dark rooms. This show is really rubbing it in by showing us that Wolsey has only lit about half of the candles at his disposal, presumably because this is a business casual, semi-private meeting with a concerned father about how many boys his daughter hath given smooch to. The result is that the scene is dark though and I have to crank up the light on my laptop.

Cromwell is in the hallway and Thomas Boleyn tosses some Tudor insults (”butcher’s dog!”) at him on the way out, and Wolsey summons Cromwell in. There’s some obvious contrast with how in-charge and intimidating he looks behind his desk, compared to how nervous and flustered and pathetic he looked in the first scene and like, I get it, ok, point made. Wolsey is charmed by Cromwell as a fellow lowly origins success story, Cromwell is clearly looking at Wolsey and thinking that he wants what this guy has. “William Popely tells me I might find a use for you,” says Wolsey. “A man of many talents.” It’s the beginning of a beautiful friendship. 

Cromwell arrives home. Like everything else at night, it’s dark as h e l l. His wife hands him a dog that I can’t even squint out in the goddamned candlelight, and they share a sweet moment where Cromwell says he’s hitching his wagon to Wolsey’s. She’s a little skeptical of his obvious excitement, he’s understanding and keeps scritching at the lil dog. They like each other. Cute!

Morning. Cromwell reads a letter from his son and helps his daughters with their breakfast homework (or whatever). He gets a package in the mail. It’s a Contraband English Bible for Sneaky Protestants, Illegal Edition. He gives it a soft sell to his wife, who blows him off, so he opens a regular ol Latin Bible for his youngest daughter, Grace. She traces the illuminations of angels and peacocks, an action that given the Tudor importance of symbology is in no way foreboding.

Cromwell kisses everybody within reach and runs off for his first day of work. Everybody on the way in has shit to say about his Humble Origins. Crom shows Wolsey a card trick. Wolsey explains that he just heard some Divorce Murmuring from King Henry. 

Wolsey remembers when Queen Catherine came over from Spain to marry Henry’s dead brother Arthur. The dialogue (just like in The Tudors) interacts interestingly with the ~source material. Like here Wolsey remembers how “[Catherine’s] red hair slid over her shoulder” when he first saw her. In the real world, a herald recording Catherine’s arrival in London described “her hair hanging down about her shoulders, which is fair auburn,” like it’s not a direct quote but it’s funny to think of everybody in Tudor times sitting there thinking the same thing: shit her hair’s down.  

They talk a little bit about how Catherine is taking the whole annulment thing (not well, and specifically she’s mad at Wolsey). Wolsey jokes that maybe the two of them will have to do card tricks for cash very soon. 

Throughout pretty much every one of his scenes, Cromwell is dropping little references to all the badass/regular crazy stuff he did in his Mysterious Wastrel Past and like, I can hear Hilary Mantel breathing heavily from here. Cromwell is an interesting person, but the way he can’t shut up in this show about the wild & crazy shit he got up to, especially in Italy, is like 2 much. "Once, in Italy, I held a snake for a bet,” he says, and everyone is like WHOA WHOA WHOA YOU ARE STONE COLD CRAZY TELL ANOTHER ONE. What does “held a snake” mean?

Back to 1529. Wolsey & Co are clattering up to Wolsey’s place of exile. Cromwell is shouting at everyone to get their asses in gear making the place hospitable for Wolsey, who looks pretty shitty. Everyone is sluggish and tired and it’s raining and dark, like the whole scene is just maximum depressing. 

Later, Cromwell helps Wolsey into bed. They joke like old friends, but are both clearly freaked out. “This is what they’ve waited for,” says Wolsey. “You should leave me. Gardiner has.” Cromwell takes his hand and is like, “Gardiner would.” Haha fuck that guy.  

Jonathan Pryce’s sad, tearful eyes look up at him. Cromwell grabs a lute player or someone on his way out and asks him to go play for Wolsey: “it might help him rest.” Lute Guy’s name is Mark, so I assume he’s Mark Smeaton. In this show, he’s a dick, because the next morning Cromwell walks in on him predicting Wolsey’s downfall and death, and claiming that he’s getting sent to “the Lady Anne” so 100% confirmed for Smeaton.

Next scene, Cromwell at a dinner party with Antonio Bonvisi, a merchant and frequent More correspondent. The scene is like literally pitch black. I can’t see shit. The whole room gets quiet when Cromwell arrives, and he zeroes in on Sir Thomas More, telling him to continue with whatever smack he was talking about Wolsey. Bonvisi is like, a little annoyed with everyone trying to start shit, and introduces the new Spanish ambassador, Eustace Chapuys. Chapuys leans over to More and starts bad-mouthing Cromwell, but Cromwell makes it awkward by calling him out. More says Wolsey is greedy. Cromwell says More is greedy and also a hypocrite. Bonvisi is like “.......how is everybody’s herring.”

On the way out, Bonvisi dishes out some friendly advice about Wolsey: “Leave him now.” 

Cut to the past, but less, “eighteen months before Wolsey’s fall,” the Holy Roman Empire is rampaging everywhere and has taken the pope prisoner. 

Wolsey is pumped because he has a plan: while the pope is not home he’ll convene all the cardinals in France and, in the course of being the interim government of the Catholic Church, slap a quick annulment on Henry. They talk a little bit about Anne Boleyn. Wolsey glibly Underestimates Her. His downfall has begun!

Home. Crom’s wife urges him to visit his father. His youngest daughter wanders in, wearing angel wings made out of peacock feathers. Just like the pictures she was looking at in that bible a bunch of scenes ago! The peacock, of course, is a common symbol of immortality but I’m sure this is not foreboding. Bedtime. Grace knocks on the door, claiming that she’s too warm. She’s still wearing her peacock angel wings. Crom sends her off, watching her wander down the hallway in her angel wings, you know, normal non-foreboding stuff. 

A scary part: Cromwell is off to work, chatting with his wife who’s still in bed. He takes off down the stairs, and then catches a glimpse of her on the landing. He turns around to tell her to go back to bed, but she’s.... not there. He looks everywhere, freaked out. It’s worth noting that he gallumphed and creaked down his old-ass stairs, and she didn’t make a sound.

He heads off anyway, to a quick Secret Protestant meeting where he warns everybody about Thomas More.

Then he heads home. It’s still light. His servants meet him at the door; his wife is dead. Cromwell sits tearfully on her bed. Someone rushes in to tell them that his daughters are dying too, and then they kind of...do. After that it’s still just the middle of the day so Cromwell is stuck looking at his garden. 

New day. Wolsey’s plan for a conclave didn’t work. Wolsey has a new plan: a papal envoy authorized to rule in the pope’s staid. His confidence in the plan seems a little manic; Cromwell is clearly bummed out that his whole family died.

He wanders over to a blacksmith, and has a flashback to his own childhood of having the bejeezus kicked out of him by his father (a blacksmith). And oh shit, it IS his father! He’s still a blacksmith and still mean. Like a real dick. Cromwell had been holding a hammer when he walked up; he puts it down. Cute horse, though. 

Next day he formally adopts his nephew. Apparently he has some other son wandering around somewhere but I assume we’ll get to him later. So, recap of remaining live Cromwells: Cromwell, Richard Cromwell (former nephew), Gregory Cromwell (off-screen), Unnamed Father Cromwell, Unnamed Sister Cromwell. 

And now for the legatine court! Queen Catherine testifies, and since it’s like, a matter of historical record every Queen Catherine in all of television (as well as the Shakespeare play) says the same words, “I was a true maid, without touch of man, and whether this is true or no, I put to your conscience.” 

King Henry blinks. Then they do the rest of the stuff, some crusty old guy tells the “last night I was in Spain” story, the crowd is weird, Cromwell looks grossed out. In the hallway, the Iron Bank of Braavos guy delivers news that the Pope has signed a treaty with the Holy Roman Empire so Wolsey is complete toast.

1529 again. Wolsey totters around in his garden looking pathetic. Cromwell off to visit Anne Boleyn. Mark Smeaton is there, and he’s still a dick. He’s not even playing his lute, just standing around like a dud. 

Anne is yelling at a curly little pup who runs to greet Cromwell. He scoops it up. She tries to snob him and he just stares back. She calls him “Cremuel” for like, reasons of her own. He argues that Wolsey is the only person who can get Henry an annulment. She thinks about it and decides she still hates Wolsey. Her sister, Mary, catches Cromwell on the way out and they talk a little good-natured shit about Anne. In fact all of her ladies are giving him sympathetic looks. He determines that things are grim for Wolsey, and that he needs to do more to speak up for him. 

He goes to talk with Norfolk, who tells him his chances of getting back in Parliament are not great, and talks more about Cromwell’s Humble Origins like, we get it. They have one of those weird, friendly conversations about how they don’t like each other that only men over the age of 40 in period television can have. It’s like they’re too genre-savvy to cooperate, the scoundrels!

Audience with Henry time! Henry’s still mad that Crom voted against war with France, and wants to yell about that. So he does! They talk a little bit about war with France and under what circumstances it could be a little cheaper. Then Henry’s like, “Master Cromwell, your reputation is bad,” and Cromwell is like shruggo. Henry asks why he won’t defend himself, and Cromwell’s like, “your majesty can form your own opinions” which is just exactly what Henry likes to hear. “I will,” he says. 

Cromwell comes back to Wolsey’s old apartment or whatever at court and has the painting guys paint in his coat of arms brighter. The end! Damn??