#Elliot the Announcer | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

rubysunnday · 2 years

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nothing ever lasts forever

a/n: if any of you saw the edit i posted to everybody wants to rule the world - that's where this has come from

summary: Anthony Bridgerton refused to even entertain the idea that Y/N Elliot could become his viscountess. She was the perfect woman and a perfect friend. But that was precisely the problem. If he married her, he wouldn't be able to stop himself from falling in love - and he'd made a vow to himself, that that would be the last thing he'd do.

"You, my lord, look as if you are contemplating murder."

Anthony jumped. He turned his head sharply to the right, looking at the woman who had just spoken.

Y/N Elliot beamed at him as she approached, holding two glasses of lemonade and a small plate of cakes. "Apologies, I did not mean to startle you."

"No apology necessary, I was in my own head. It has been a rather overwhelming evening, Miss Elliot."

"I have heard," Y/N said. Her lips quirked into a smile and she handed Anthony one glass of lemonade. "I would offer you some whiskey, but I do not believe that Lady Danbury has any out."

"I will take anything, at this moment," Anthony replied, taking a big gulp of the sour liquid.

Y/N stood beside him, looking out at the ballroom. She had known Anthony for a few years now - they had formed a bond at the Greenwich ball back in 1810 after Anthony had been forced to dance with a reluctant Y/N.

He had called on her the next morning to apologise for his foul mood and to ask her out on a promenade - strictly as friends. They had walked the length of Hyde Park and around the centre of London, talking non-stop about society and its ridiculous rules.

Ever since then, Anthony had sought Y/N out at every ball or party, looking for a companion who understood him and would not force him into a dance.

"They are not all that bad," Y/N said quietly, leaning towards him. Anthony glanced at her. "If anyone is to blame, it is their mama's for raising them that way."

Anthony chuckled, shaking his head. "I did think you young ladies were taught how to dance."

"Does not mean we are any good at it," Y/N countered. "Most of them are all looks."

"Yes, I did discover that... no one is capable of any worthwhile conversation," Anthony grunted, setting his empty lemonade glass aside and putting his arms behind his back.

"Ah, unfortunately, most mamas view intelligence as a negative trait. They would rather their daughter's butchered Beethoven than read a book."

"I would not mind the lack of conversation if they could play something nice."

Y/N chuckled, breathing in deeply. "Well, you might be asking too much of London's high society."

"All I want is a young lady who will make a good Viscountess and who will bear my children and look after my sister's. I do not need them to love me - nor do I want them to. I simply want a Viscountess."

Y/N tried not to show her surprise, nor slight horror, at Anthony's statement. Of course, she knew the man was a Rake - in fact, his announcement of his intent to marry that season had left her speechless. But she had thought he wanted to marry for love - not just for the sake of it.

"My lord, you make it sound as if you want a machine for a wife."

"Well, it would certainly make this entire debacle significantly easier."

Y/N moved, standing in front of him. "May I ask you something?"

"Of course."

"Have you even considered finding a love match? Instead of searching for the most suitable candidate as if it is a job you are trying to fulfil."

Anthony stilled. "It complicates everything. Love shall have no place in my marriage. Please excuse me, Miss Elliot."

Y/N opened her mouth, wanting to hold Anthony accountable for what he had just said, but the viscount was swiftly walking away and over to his brother, smiling politely at every young lady he passed.

"Was that Viscount Bridgerton I saw you talking to?"

Y/N groaned. "Mama -"

"Did he ask you to dance?"

"Mama -"

"Did he?"

"No, mama. You know our relationship is strictly a friendship - there is no romance there."

"Apologies." Y/N's mother put a gloved hand on her daughter's arm. "He seems to have rattled you, dearest."

Y/N sighed softly. "I thought..." she paused, trailing off. "I thought that, if he was not after love, he would at least be after friendship."

"Yet he has not looked at you twice since his announcement."

Y/N nodded sadly, closing her eyes for a moment. "Whilst I know I should not let it get to me," she inhaled heavily, "he is a man who deserves love and I cannot understand why he seems so determined to forsake it. To forsake love or friendship."

"He is an enigma, darling. I would not let it trouble you - he has clearly made his mind up about his future. Now," Y/N groaned, sensing her mother's change in tone, "how about I go and introduce you to Mr Thomas Dorset and you take a turn about the ballroom with him?"

"Mama, I do not -"

"Just do this for me," Y/N's mother said, squeezing her hand. "Please."

Y/N relented, slumping. "Fine."

Hyacinth was unhappy. It had taken her a few days to figure out why she was unhappy, but one look at her brother explained everything. She knew what Anthony wanted in a wife - well, not the full extent, but enough to know he was being an idiot.

"Hyacinth, you have been staring at me for the past ten minutes," Anthony said, folding the corner of his newspaper down, and staring back at her. "What is the matter?"

"Nothing, brother."

"Hyacinth -"

"Why have you not considered Miss Elliot for a wife?"

Anthony choked on his tea, almost dropping the cup as he spluttered and coughed. "Pardon me?"

"Well, I just thought, since you do not want to love someone, why not marry a friend? It seems like a reasonable agreement."

"Hyacinth, I... I am sure Miss Elliot has many other suitors who can offer her a happier life -"

"She does not," Francesca chimed in, sitting down next to her brother, a notebook in hand. She flipped it open and leafed through a few pages. "She is courting Mr Dorset, at the minute - a man, I know for a fact, she only considers a friend."

"She is courting Dorset?"

"That is what I just said - dear lord, have the debutante's deafened you with their pianoforte?" Francesca asked, scrunching her brow up as she stared at her brother.

Anthony looked down at his newspaper for a moment. "Since when was she courting Dorset?"

Francesca, taking pity on the fact her brother had clearly been blindsided by the news, slid a copy of Lady Whistledown his way, taking his newspaper from him. "It arrived this morning."

Dearest readers,

It would appear that this season has begun with a rather exciting development. Miss Y/N Elliot - the close 'friend' of one Viscount Bridgerton - has been seen promenading with Mr Thomas Dorset. It would appear that, despite his mama proclaiming his desire to wed, in front of every eligible lady at the Danbury Ball last week, Viscount Bridgerton has missed the most suitable candidate from his list: Miss Y/N Elliot.

Perhaps, should the Viscount read this column, he will take it upon himself to rectify things... before it is too late.

Anthony stopped reading as Whistledown moved on to talk about the unflattering orange and yellow gown Penelope Featherington had been sporting. He held it loosely in his hand, staring at Y/N's name.

"There is obviously more than just friendship between the two of you," Francesca said softly.

Anthony belatedly realised that Hyacinth had left the room and it was just him and Francesca. He turned his head to face her, letting his conflicting emotions show.

"Would it be so bad to entertain the prospect of becoming more?" Francesca continued, her tone gentle. "She would be an excellent wife."

"I do not doubt it," he said hoarsely.

"Then what is stopping you?"

Francesca looked older than she had before as she stared intently at her eldest brother. Anthony was suddenly hit with the realization that, at some point, Francesca had grown up into a woman. A woman who knew far more about the world around her than most would.

His sister reached over and took his hand, squeezing it gently. Anthony sighed, closing his eyes for a moment.

"Is it so wrong to fight for what you want?"

"I fight for the family that I have," he replied softly. "That is why I cannot marry for love. When father died, it broke mother. She was barely there, in the months afterwards. I was only eighteen, Frannie. And I was a Viscount and a brother and a father, all at once.

"I do not want to see anyone else suffer the way mother did. I cannot be the cause of anyone's grief. It is better for everyone if I marry out of duty and not out of love. Better for me, better for you, better for Y/N - better for the entire world, I am sure."

Francesca sighed. "As much as I disagree with you, I know when there is no changing your mind."

"I appreiciate that -"

"But will you at least talk to her? Before it becomes too late for anyone to do anything without a scandal coming down around us."

Anthony nodded, swallowing thickly. "I will. I shall talk to her when she comes to Aubery Hall in a few days' time."

Anthony was avoiding Y/N.

He had promised Francesca he would talk to her, but every time he saw her, the words he wanted to say died in his throat. She spent most of her time with Dorset, arm linked with his, laughing at what he said.

It was infuriating Anthony.

And that was precisely his problem. He could not marry Y/N, even out of friendship. Because he loved her far too deeply to be able to keep the distance between them. Anthony knew that he would succumb so deeply that the feeling would overwhelm him and his plan would fail.

He could not do that to Y/N. He could not be the reason she stopped smiling and became a shell of herself. It was not fair to her, no matter how deep Anthony's feelings went.

So, he stood at the side of the ballroom, trying to ignore how empty and dull it felt without her presence, and watched as she danced with Dorset and Fife and smiled in all the right places.

As much as he wanted to look away, he couldn't. Because even as his heart ached, she was still so beautiful.

He was beginning to see her in his dreams - and when his work became too mundane, Anthony began to hallucinate her laughter. He found himself unable to think about anything else but Y/N. Before, he had managed to contain it - to lock it away in a box and hide it. But now... it was everywhere and there was no catching it.

Sundays were often the quietest days in the Bridgerton household. Nothing really happened and it allowed Anthony a moment of calm to finish the work he'd had since Monday and to maybe go for a walk around the grounds, taking a moment to himself.

It had rained the night before, thunder rumbling out right above Aubery Hall. The majority of the guests staying within the giant house were in their rooms, finding ways to occupy their time until lunch.

Anthony, however, took the solitude and the slightly damp ground and decided to go for a walk. He went down to the stables, checking in on his horse. He walked around the gardens, stopping to admire the hyacinths and the lilies, and he strolled around the outside of Aubery Hall itself, reminiscing over memories lost to time for everyone but him.

"You are avoiding me."

Anthony swivelled on the top of the stone staircase, looking back at the door he'd just walked out of. Y/N stood there, dressed in a dark-coloured spencer jacket and a lighter-coloured gown.

"Miss Elliot, I -"

"Anthony Bridgerton, if you even dare try and lie to me right now," Y/N said, tripping over the hem of her dress as she stepped out onto the landing, "I will hit you."

"Your dress appears a little to long -"

"Mama had the hem dropped because I got new shoes and now it is too long when I wear my old shoes - stop deflecting. Why are you avoiding me?"

"I... I thought it best."

"Why?"

"I did not want to interfere with Dorset's courtship of you."

"That is the most terrible excuse I have ever heard. You were avoiding me before Mr Dorset even began courting me - in fact, you have been avoiding me since this season began."

Anthony shook his head, rocking back on his heels. "Miss Elliot, I cannot tell you why for I fear you will not understand."

"Not understand - Anthony, are you hearing yourself?" Y/N demanded, stepping close to him.

It was as if they were in a standoff. They were slowly turning, Anthony moving away from the stairs and to the door back into Aubery Hall, Y/N moving out into the open.

"Y/N, I cannot -"

"All season you have interviewed and insulted every single eligible woman in the ton. Every single one, except me." There was such fierce anger in her eyes that Anthony was actually taken aback. "Why?"

Because I love you. "Because I did not think you suitable."

Excellent response, Anthony, make the situation even worse.

"Pardon me?" Y/N said slowly, her voice dangerously calm.

"Miss Elliot, I doubt you would even begin to understand why I am doing what I am doing -"

"Of course, I will not - you are refusing to explain it to me!"

"It is not something I want you to trouble yourself with -"

"I am already troubled, my lord. I have been troubled all season because you refuse to even consider me as an option to be your wife! We are friends, are we not?"

"We are."

"Would it truly be so terrible to marry one's closest friend?" Y/N asked softly, her eyes begging Anthony to be open and honest with her.

Anthony was silent. He wanted to say that he would be honoured to marry her. That he would be marrying more than his best friend. But he could not allow himself to say the words.

The silence broke Y/N a little bit more. She inhaled sharply and took a small step back.

"I see," she whispered, her voice cracking. "I am sorry to have wasted your time, my lord."

"No, Y/N, wait, please -"

Anthony stepped forward, a hand stretched out to grab Y/N. Y/N stepped back, trying to move away from him. The hem of her dress caught the heel of her shoe, causing her to completely lose her balance. Unable to catch herself, Y/N's arms flailed, and her fingers brushed against Anthony's as she fell backwards.

Anthony felt as if time had slowed down. He could only watch as Y/N hit the steps, her head smacking with a sickening thud against the edge of the stone stairs. She rolled down to the bottom, her body limp, eventually coming to a halt at the foot of the stairs.

"Y/N!"

Anthony practically launched himself down the stairs, sending gravel flying as he fell to his knees beside her, his hands hovering over her body. He put a hand behind her head, gently feeling around, only to pull it away and find his hand covered in blood.

He rubbed his thumb against it, slowly processing what it was. As he looked back down at Y/N's unconscious form, he could see blood slowly seeping out from under her head, weaving through the gravel.

Anthony shook his head a little and forced himself to focus. He somehow managed to lift Y/N up into his arms, putting her right arm around his neck and letting her other rest on her stomach. She was a complete dead weight and he grunted as he stood up.

He stumbled back up the steps, ignoring the puddle of blood where Y/N had laid, and carried her back into the house. His voice kept catching as he yelled for servants to call a doctor and for someone to fetch blankets, his feet carrying him up the stairs and down the corridor.

Guests poked their heads out of their rooms, desperate to know what was happening, only to be ushered back inside by the staff. Anthony followed a maid down to the room Y/N was staying in. He heard Y/N's mother let out a horrified gasp, calling after her daughter as her unconscious, bleeding body was carried past her.

Anthony gently laid Y/N down on her bed, carefully lowering her head to the pillow, his fingers coming away stained with even more blood. He vaguely realized that the collar of his shirt and his cravat were both covered in blood, the once white fabric stained forever.

"She fell down the stairs outside," Anthony said as the maids rushed around, Mrs Barett, the housekeeper of Aubery Hall, effortlessly giving orders to the maids swarming the room. "Hit her head on the stone railing."

"Are you alright, my lord?" Mrs Barett asked, glancing over at Anthony as she undid Y/N's jacket, manipulating it off her body. "You are covered in blood."

"It... it is not mine," Anthony managed to get out, tripping over the words.

Mrs Barett stood up, pausing. She nodded grimly. "Alright. Lord Bridgerton, I know you do not want to leave her, but please can you step out for a moment whilst we undress her and check the rest of her body?"

Anthony nodded automatically and walked through the crowd and into the quiet corridor outside Y/N's bedroom.

"Anthony?" Colin said, pushing himself off the wall, and walking over to him. "Anthony, I saw you carry Miss Elliot inside. Are you... are you hurt?"

"It is not mine," Anthony whispered, looking up at his brother. "It is my fault. This is all my fault."

"Brother -"

"We were arguing," he continued, swaying slightly to the side. "We were arguing and she fell. She fell, Colin."

"I know," Colin said, putting a hand on Anthony's shoulder. "But it is not your fault."

"It is."

Anthony could see Y/N lying on the bed, now dressed in a night gown. She was still and her skin lacking most of its colour. Suddenly, someone blocked his view, putting a hand to the back of his neck.

"Anthony, look at me," Benedict said, his figure filling Anthony's view. "Just breathe."

Anthony looked up at his brother - the only one he had never truly had to parent - tears filling his eyes. "It's my fault."

"It's not."

"It is... it is," Anthony whispered, pitching forward.

Benedict and Colin both stepped forward, catching him between the two of them and carefully guiding him back into a chair.

"It is all my fault," Anthony repeated again, closing his eyes as he slumped into Benedict's embrace. "All my fault."

'It is not good news, I am afraid. She took a heavy blow to the head and lost a lot of blood. There may be memory loss and damage to her brain. But, with time, she should heal.

When will she wake up?

That, I do not know, my lord. '

Anthony threw his pen aside, rubbing his face and sighing. It had been a week. A whole week of bypassing Y/N's room and avoiding most of his family. The guilt was overwhelming him.

He knew he'd been awful to his family. They had been his outlet for the past week - receiving the brunt of his temper and impatience. Colin, especially, had become a regular contender.

There was a gentle knock on his study door and Anthony looked up, forcing a smile to his face at the sigh of Hyacinth poking her head inside.

"We are having tea," she said quietly, "if you would like to join us." She hesitated for a minute. "I miss you."

Anthony swallowed heavily, his eyes stinging a little. "Of course. I'll be there in a minute, Hyacinth."

Hyacinth nodded and quietly left the study. Anthony sighed, standing up and stretching his arms above his head. He didn't bother putting his jacket back on or unrolling his shirt sleeves - it was just his family.

He walked into the drawing room, sending a tight smile to the rest of his siblings. Anthony hovered awkwardly in the centre of the room, thinking of what to try and say to his siblings. All of them, aside from Hyacinth, Benedict and Francesca, were blatantly ignoring him.

"Anthony, come sit down," Francesca said gently, moving over on the sofa, creating a space next to her.

Anthony walked over to his sister, sitting down beside her. He looked up at Colin, who was looking everywhere else but at Anthony.

He and Colin had fallen out, again, over how much Colin wanted to splurge on another trip. It was always a sensitive topic - money and travel - but Colin never seemed to quite realise how privileged he was. Anthony hadn't meant to snap at him but it was the last straw.

"Colin, I wish to -"

"Did you hear something, brother?" Colin asked, turning to Benedict.

"Colin!" Francesca snapped, glaring at him.

"Our dear Viscount has already made his opinion of my activities very clear," Colin muttered, looking at his plate.

"Alright, that is enough," Francesca said, setting her tea cup aside. "You are acting like a child, Colin."

"How is this my fault?" Colin exclaimed.

Anthony closed his eyes as the bickering resumed once more. He knew he shouldn't have joined them - whenever he did he ruined the mood.

Violet could hear her children arguing before entering the drawing room. She had just walked past Y/N's room and seen her sitting up and smiling at her mother. Telling Anthony in front of everyone was probably not a good idea - but Violet was desperate for her children to stop arguing and she knew Colin was one harsh word away from completely alienating his elder brother.

Perhaps a show of emotion - real emotion - from her eldest would make them realise that he was still their brother.

"Anthony," Violet said, walking into the drawing room. The argument stopped abruptly as everyone turned expectantly to their mother.

Anthony's head shot up and he looked at her, his eyes wide. Violet could tell that, for a minute, pure panic gripped Anthony. But as she smiled at him and nodded once, the panic faded to relief.

"She's awake?" Anthony croaked, staring at his mother.

Violet nodded. "I spoke to her just now."

Anthony smiled tightly, nodding furiously. His face crumpled abruptly and he let exhaled shakily, covering his face with his hands. Every emotion he had been trying to hide for the last week hit him all at once and he just broke.

There was a slightly awkward silence as his siblings stared at him but Anthony simply no longer cared. A gentle hand rested on his back and he moved his hands away from his face, turning his head to the right and facing his sister.

Francesca looked at him, her eyes full of sympathy. She knew Anthony better than perhaps the rest of his siblings. Anthony leant back against the sofa, exhaling heavily. Francesca grabbed his hand with both of hers, rubbing her thumb over the back of his.

"It's ok," she said softly. "You can cry. It's just us."

Anthony smiled sadly, pressing his lips together tightly as he felt a sob threatening to break through. "I know."

Violet, who had been standing in the middle of the room, watching, walked over to him, perching on the arm of the sofa. "I know how hard your father's death was on you. And I can only apologise for how absent I was during that time. But you must know... despite everything I suffered during those months, I do not regret loving your father as much as I did.

"It is only because I loved him as much as I did that I ached as much as I did." Violet rubbed her hand up and down Anthony's arm, pressing a kiss to his head. "You cannot lose her, Anthony. Do not lose her."

Y/N set her book down on her bed and sighed. She looked out the window and out over the grounds of Aubery Hall. Anthony had not visited her since she'd woken up. She wasn't entirely sure what she was expecting from him but it hurt, nonetheless.

Knowing sleep was simply not going to come, Y/N clambered out of bed and put on her robe, tying it at the front. She gently opened the door to her room and walked out into the corridor, trying to be quiet so as not to disturb anyone else.

Y/N walked down the stairs and paused at the bottom, turning to look at Anthony's study. There was a gentle glow coming from under the door and Y/N knew he was awake. He was always awake.

She heistated for a moment, not wanting to cause him anymore anxiety. But her desire for closure and to know why he had been ignoring her, won, and Y/N padded over to the door, twisting the door knob and pushing it open.

Anthony looked up as his study door opened and he stilled as Y/N poked her head around the door.

"Hi," she said softly.

"Hi," Anthony said, standing up. "Should you not be in bed, resting?"

"I think I have had enough rest," Y/N replied. "It's late."

Anthony glanced down at his pile of paperwork. "I have too much to do."

"I can -"

"No, stay," Anthony said abruptly. He swallowed, pausing. "Please."

Y/N stepped further into the room, closing the door behind her. "I have questions."

"I know," Anthony replied, stepping out from behind his desk and approaching her, meeting her halfway. "I was a fool. You deserve to know the truth."

"Ok," Y/N said, nodding. "Where do you want to start?"

Anthony gestured to the leather chairs in front of his desk and Y/N sat down in one, gently straightening her rob. Anthony sat down in the one to her left and cleared his throat.

"When my father died... my mother was a ghost. She barely existed in the months afterwards and the grief almost killed her. Whilst she does not remember most of that time, I remember every waking moment. I can still hear her wails and screams."

Anthony paused, taking a shaky breath in. Y/N waited patiently, not wanting to rush him.

"When I married, I decided it should be free of the ravages of grief. Because I could never be the cause of such pain. No matter how hard-hearted and cruel everyone else may find me to be. My own family included."

He turned to face Y/N, his walls entirely broken. She watched him with an utterly serene, understanding expression on her face.

"Y/N, the reason I never considered you is because I love you," Anthony said hoarsely. "And I could not do that to you. My father lived until the age of thirty-eight and I can not see myself outliving him in any way. I did not want to cause anyone any grief when I die, which is why I searched for a marriage without love."

"By your estimation, you have nine years left?"

"Yes."

"OK, then," Y/N said softly, nodding.

"You're not going to tell me I'm being silly?"

"It is a perfectly reasonable reaction to have considering what you went through," Y/N told him. "I don't expect you to get past this either - you probably won't be able to, not until you turn thirty-nine, at least. But you cannot live the rest of your life in fear of this. You cannot let it control you."

Anthony sniffled, wiping his eyes furiously. "Y/N, if we only have nine years together -"

"Then they," Y/N said, standing up and walking over to Anthony, crouching down in front of him, a hand on his knee, "will be the best years of my life. Time does not indicate how much you love a person. Whether we have nine years together or twenty, I will love you just as much as I do right now."

Anthony closed his eyes, letting his head hang. His shoulders shook as he began to sob and Y/N gently pulled Anthony into her chest, guiding him to the floor. Anthony clung to Y/N as he sobbed, hiding his face in her robe.

Y/N and Anthony sat there on the floor, holding one another, in the dark of the study, crying. He had opened up to her and told her the brutally honest truth - and Y/N had caught him as he crumbled and kept him upright, never letting go.

#bridgerton #bridgerton imagine #bridgerton x reader #anthony bridgerton #bridgerton fic #anthony bridgerton x reader #anthony bridgerton imagine

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becausegoodheroesdeservekidneys · 1 year

Note

Is there any chance we could have a round up of the Circus? I am so lost on how the dominoes fell over the last 40 days

Okay this is not comprehensive, because (a) my husband the politics nerd is currently on his way to a gig in west Wales somewhere and so cannot chime in and also (b) all our political journalist friends are understandably quite busy right now doing political journaling, but I seem to have an influx of new followers who are also very confused and don't understand what's going on, so I shall try.

Alright so what we're seeing here is the Second Clownfall of 2022, the hotly anticipated sequel to the Adventures of Big Dog the Clown. However it revolves around the character of Liz Truss, and will use some terminology, so

Previous Reading

Important Terminology - Required Reading

What is a Whip?

How do Whips work?

Shadow Cabinet

Front Benchers, Back Benchers and the Cabinet

What do we need to call an early General Election?

The Adventures of Big Dog the Clown - Suggested Reading

Part One

Part Two

Part Three

Part Four

Elanor's Guide to Liz Truss - Suggested Reading

Character-based prequel

...okay I think that's everything. On with the show!

The Premiership of Liz Truss (2022-2022)

Week One

We begin our tale on September 5th, 2022. Coincidentally, that was also the date that I personally started my new job. Let's see which of us does better!

The Daily Mail is delighted, and runs a headline proclaiming "Cometh the hour, cometh the woman". Tory rag in a frock coat the Financial Times runs an op-ed:

So the results ARE IN! She will definitely fuck us up! But that's a good thing for vague reasons! Blitz spirit everyone. Tally ho, pip pip, shoot a servant and have sex with a wall, hey what. Good old Blighty.

(That's my best impression of Tories I'm good at their accents I hope you like it)

Truss does an interview with Laura Kuenssberg, and fellow guest and comedian Joe Lycett wildly and effusively applauds her every word. Even Liz realises no one would sincerely applaud her. Bafflingly, the entire right wing press and every member of the Tory party freak out about this, because they don't understand the function of a satirist and don't know how to defend against it. It is extremely funny. Joe Lycett announces he's a right-wing comedian now, and begins a new extended career bit effusively and sarcastically praising right wing politicians. They all cry extensively and call him mean.

SO, it's been a long hard leadership campaign! But she made it. For years, Tories have been blighted by the curse of the PM/Chancellor relationship, backstabbing and cheating and lying about each other to try and get power. But not our Liz, oh no; her Chancellor is Maths Mate and BFF Kwasi Kwarteng, an insipid and poisonous gnome known for three (3) things:

He once wrote a stupid book with Liz Truss about his stupid opinions on how he thinks economics work and everyone laughed at him and stuffed him in a locker

On the night of the Brexit vote he was overheard by a journalist gleefully saying “Who cares if sterling crashes? It will come back up again“ which are of course the words of a man who knows all about economics and how they work

This fucking bullshit back in July:

But hey IT'S OKAY! Everything is fine! Because Liz and Kwasi are BFFs who certainly never had an affair and are marching in lockstep and have each other's backs and both love maths more than their own children if they had any! Maths Friends!

Multiple resignations immediately follow.

Among them is Ben Elliot, the Tory Party chair, which is a pretty big deal from a man who just lived through the Johnson years; also, shockingly, Priti Patel, the deportation-happy Home Secretary, decides that even as an animatronic goblin she cannot support this nonsense.

It's not a resignation per se, but at ten to seven in the evening it's announced that Andrew Bridgen, the Troy MP for Leicestershire North West, has been evicted from his home and ordered to pay £800,000 in legal costs, and a possible £244,000 in rent arrears. Also described as "dishonest" by a judge.

This is not directly relevant to Liz Truss but look, it was a staggeringly weird day and this was basically the topper.

Anyway.

Liz goes to the Palace and is duly sworn in by the Queen, who promptly keels over and dies the very next day. Parliament is instantly shut down for mandatory mourning. As omens go, this one was not subtle.

This triggers the circulation of some very awkward footage of Young Truss talking about how she thinks the Monarchy should be abolished for being a gross relic of horrifying social stratification. However you must understand that it's not awkward because anyone thinks she murdered the Queen. It's because Liz Truss's attempts at public speaking are like sitting through a children's Christmas play when you're the only person in the audience and they can all see your face so you have to look encouraging for four hours when inside you are shrivelling into something approximating an apricot pit travelling to the core of Jupiter.

Take a look at her acceptance speech and wither.

Anyway we're now several MPs and a queen down so she's got to get on replacing those so she can focus on her real love: the much-anticipated mini-budget that she is preparing with Kwasi to save the UK from the harrowing quagmire of crippling poverty that Big Dog managed to drive us into (all while pretending it wasn't Big Dog who did it.)

Fortunately, she does not need to replace the queen! Monarchies take care of themselves, which many people would argue is very much the problem, of course. They had a proper reunion with Meghan From Suits and Meghan From Suits' husband, both of whom were banned from visiting Balmoral, and also the Nonce flew in, who was allowed to visit Balmoral. Such heartwarming scenes.

But the Cabinet, that's another matter. That's something Liz DOES have to do, and it's important she gets it right, Tumblrs, because you see, every time a Cabinet minister is replaced it's expensive and a hassle and it weakens a government by making them look all crumbly, like a packet of biscuits that's been rammed against a wall and now someone is opening it and everyone is bracing for Crumbs.

So, step forward to the Cabinet soulless ghoul Suella Braverman, the new Home Secretary. She immediately distinguishes herself by trying to legalise torture.

And then, naturally,

YEAH THAT'S RIGHT IT'S TICK TOCK TERF O'CLOCK also FUCK the sovereignty of the Scottish Parliament amirite ladies lol Girl Power uwu

Not that she can actually do anything at this point, of course. As I say: Enforced Mourning is in process, which means Parliament is shut down for ten days. No work, no speeches, no appearances, no announcements, just taxpayer's money going on legal fees to see if she can interfere with another nation's elected government in order to strip away the human rights of queer people.

However, while we all weep over the corpse of Queen Lizzie Two and beat our breasts in grief, the already-beleaguered pound is slowly bleeding out through this inaction. And this, to the Maths Mates, is unacceptable.

Two things get quietly slid into the news cycle.

Thing the First:

BIG YIKES LADS

Thing the Second:

Fracking ban in England lifted in bid to boost UK gas supply - BBC News

For those who don't know, fracking is an energy extraction process. Water, gas and dust are pumped at high pressure into shale bedrock to crack it open, releasing pockets of natural gas that can then be harvested for fuel. It's environmentally disastrous for multiple reasons, both direct (earthquakes, groundwater pollution, social impacts) and indirect (IT'S STILL A FOSSIL FUEL YOU STUPID CUNTS ARE YOUR SKULLS FUCKING EMPTY). The Welsh and Scottish governments have both banned it outright, a straight-up "Foot down no, petal". England, though, is the Tory paradise, so the ban was less complete.

However, this is still a Huge Deal - the 2019 Tory manifesto was very clear that fracking would only be unbanned IF "the science shows categorically that it can be done safely". In fact, most Tories don't like it either. Their constituents REALLY don't. Also in March Kwasi Kwarteng literally went on record and said it wouldn't lower European gas prices anyway; but not anymore! Now he thinks it's a zippy idea. Just spiffing. Top hole, pip pip (I'm so good at their accents :))

Scientists who have been studying the environmental impacts of fracking produce their report -

And it is quietly buried, so as not to offend the corpse of Lizzie Two.

Here ends the first four days of the Reign of Liz Truss.

Second Week

Anyway, royalists have gone insane and started a REALLY BIG queue to see a box that supposedly contains the rotting cadaver of the old queen. Multiple people have to be hospitalised because they join the Queue and don't take food, water, warm clothes, or essential daily medications with them, even though the Queue is literally days long. Some die. Many take the ashes of their own loved ones so they can wave them at the box for the thirty seconds they get to be in front of it, like a sort of play date for ashes.

Prince Charles, now King Prince Charles, starts swanning about as King, demanding everyone be sad for him and clap him to cheer him up. Someone holds up a sign saying 'Not my King' and gets arrested. This triggers a whole wave of protests and arrests as free speech slides out the window, until the Met Police chief has to step in and explain to the police like they're five-year-olds that they can't do that, actually, and need to cut that shit out.

But we can't wholly blame the police, because the main pressure to clamp down on protestors actually came from...

The government.

Meanwhile the country goes bat shit fucking insane. In order not to offend the fragile sensibilities of royalists, now so brittle they need to be treated with the same delicate touch normally reserved for unstable nitroglycerin, the UK sees supermarkets lowering the volume of self-serve checkout desks, people's funerals cancelled, vital operations and other medical interventions postponed, Centre Parcs cancelling holidays, FOOD BANKS CLOSING, Nintendo Direct cancelling its live stream in Britain (but not cancelling the release of the recording onto You Tube an hour later because as we all know Queen Elizabeth II was a MASSIVE livestream fan and would have been DEVASTATED to miss it but she was very 'meh' about YouTube), cycle racks being closed, and this unhinged shrieking harridan:

Very normal, lads. Very normal.

Oh and also they cancelled Owain Glyndwr Day so as a Welsh person I am now legally allowed to forcibly ram a daffodil into the urethras of the landed English gentry.

However, the protests grow as the suppression wanes. By the time King Prince Charles comes to Wales, he is met with silent protests, this guy who learned a sentence in Welsh specially for the occasion, and a petition to abolish the Prince of Wales title.

Except government is still shut down, so the petitions are all suspended.

But not to worry! That gives the Maths Mates more time to work on their special mini-budget.

Week Three

More of the same at first, really, but she finally addresses the nation to announce that the Queen was the "rock" on which "modern Britain was built".

Also someone finally spots that the necklace she always wears is a day collar, so that was fun.

BUT THEN

The moment we have all been waiting for, with baited breath.

On the 23rd September, 2022, the mini-budget finally arrives. The golden egg of Kwasi and Liz, their beloved, beautiful child, the crowning glory, the culmination of their economic beliefs and values. They are so proud of it, so sure of it, that they do not even submit it for the approval of the Office for Budget Responsibility. Why should they? This is the moment Kwarteng can finally show the world that he was right; that this is the way to do economics after all; that he alone in his brilliance and genius has reinvented the field and will lead the country to a new era of riches and prosperity.

And the pound does this:

Yikes.

Truss goes into hiding for a day and a half, during which time her aids claim all her relatives have died so she won't have to speak to the press, which is obviously a simply fantastic quality in a Prime Minister. Finally, she resurfaces by doing a series of radio interviews for regional stations around the UK, hoping they'll be easier on her, starting with Radio Leeds. The good journalists of Yorkshire eviscerate her and strew her corpse through Adel Woods. It's downhill from there.

Week Four

One poll puts Labour 33 points ahead of the Tories.

It can be a little difficult to translate polls, because the electoral system is complex, so I asked my journalist friends. They cheerfully informed me that, if translated into a General Election, the Tories would have just 3 seats left.

Except! Of course, naturally, that is me reporting naught but the most extreme result, Tumblrs, dancing upon the bones of my enemies as I chant the rites to make the Tory party die faster. If I were to be fair about this - and I am, of course, a journalist of Integrity and Morals - I would actually give the average poll result. And I am wise and fair to all, ancient rites aside, so I shall.

The average poll result is still 19 points ahead.

Tony Blair's landslide Labour victory in 1999 was 12 points.

Rounding off the day, Labour declare that they are backing a change to a proportional representation voting system in place of the UK’s archaic first past the post system. Funny that.

Anyway, that mini-budget is going poorly. Realising unlimited borrowing rather than tax cuts for the rich is maybe Bad Actually, the Maths Mates decide to get the money for their bail-outs some other way. Can you guess, Tumblrs? Can you guess where they decide to get the money from?

Naturally.

Week Five

In a fascinating little twist, the papers claim Liz banned King Prince Charles from going to the Climate Summit in Egypt. This is interesting for about a billion reasons, not least of which is that the papers seem very angry about this and yet also that it's an unsubstantiated rumour - the phrase "it's understood that _" gets a hell of a workout.

She then does not go herself. Makes sense. They'll probably be mean to her about the fracking.

She then loses the support of the Daily Mail, a paper that five weeks before were ecstatic about her rise to power :( so sad. But why? What made them change their minds?

Well. What else from Truss, but a massive and catastrophic u-turn on the economy?

And she does! The absolute nutter!

Plans to cut the 45p tax rate for those earning upwards of £150,000 were abandoned, as were:

abolishing the planned rise in corporation tax

cutting the basic rate of income tax

the two-year energy bill support plan

scrapping the planned dividend tax hike

VAT-free shopping for international tourists

freezing alcohol duty

easing of IR25 rules for the self-employed

ALL GONE! All gone. The mini-budget is not working so lol jk we'll think of something else, that's how government works, right? The pound promptly implodes further. Of all people, Nadine Dorries is the one to criticise

WE ARE IN A TOPSY TURVEY UPSIDE DOWN WORLD

The Daily Mail still finds a way to say it's all Michael Gove's fault, though.

Anyway, the 5th October dawns bright and beautiful and YouGov polls rural voters:

THIS IS HUUUUUUUUUGE, because farmers just will not fucking stop voting Tory, AND YET. Wowsers. Not just popularity. Voting intention. She might as well have personally infected every farm in the South Downs with foot and mouth disease.

Truss realises her popularity is plummeting and she needs a new audience. She tries to appear down with the kids and declares that she's the only PM to have gone to a comprehensive school.

This is not true. Gordon Brown and Theresa May both did. However, it's certainly true that all three of them became PM by ousting a sitting PM, so there's that I guess.

Week Six

At this point I can start putting in PRECISE DATEs just call ME Robert Peston.

13th October

News reporters start speculating that she'll be done by the end of the month as the first rumoured letter of no confidence reaches us. People realise that her competition for shortest serving PM was a guy who died in office of TB at about the four month mark RIP king sorry about your lungs.

(A reminder - normally, if MPs want to oust a party leader, they must send in 54 letters of no confidence. This makes the 1922 Committee - a bunch of back benchers who preside over this shit - hold a vote of no confidence. A leader who loses gives way - this is very rare. A leader who wins is then immune to another such vote for 12 months, but they almost always crumble within a month or two anyway - this is much more common.)

This is extremely funny, because a newly-elected leader of the party has a 12 month immunity to votes of no confidence, same as people who've won such a vote. Likes charge reblogs cast apparently. MPs are getting desperate.

Pressure mounts. Chancellor Kwasi Kwarteng announces that he is "Not going anywhere."

14th October

Chancellor Kwasi Kwarteng is sacked and blamed for the entire economic mess.

Incredibly, Liz does this without first planning a replacement, so it's several hours before Jeremy Cunt suddenly reappears like the spectre at the fucking feast.

Meanwhile here's Ed Milliband on Twitter

Seven and a half years he waited to retweet that. Seven and a half long years, look, to have the last laugh.

In the end, he still went too soon.

15th October

Deputy PM and also Health Minister Therese Coffey (side note - have they always doubled up in roles like that? Or are there just not enough of them anymore?) announces that she loves antibiotic resistance and dead kids and also breaking laws:

16th October

The Sunday Times calls for Extremely Corrupt Former Grand Vizier Rishi Sunak to take over, and then a General Election so that Labour can take the reins.

The SUNDAY TIMES

Calling for LABOUR

The Sunday Mail tries to stir up support for Ben Wallace taking over, because no one has heard of Ben Wallace so he needs the boost, but then accidentally publish their front page with a different man

In another YouGov poll for the Times, not a single political group, age group, area of the country, gender, or other demographic said that Liz Truss was the right choice for PM

This is the new predicted election graph:

Yikes

17th October

The projected election results are a Labour victory so complete the opposition would be the SNP. Legend suggests Nicola Sturgeon's cackle on finding out was so powerful she accidentally resurrected a witchfinder.

18th October

Meanwhile in the Senedd, Welsh Tory leader Andrew RT Davies, a sort of humanoid boil dressed in ham, tries to accuse placid and gentle First Minister for Wales Mark Drakeford's Labour of being responsible for long ambulance waiting times.

T'was a mistake.

youtube

19th October

Oh boy.

Well, first of all, Suella Braverman sends an official email from her private email address, and then promptly leaves the Cabinet at cannonball speeds as though she's seen a brown child about to be given citizenship. Was she quietly fired by Jeremy Cunt? Did she do it deliberately to resign? On her way out, she blames the true source of our problems - the Guardian-reading, tofu-eating Wokerati.

Nigella Lawson spends the day tweeting tofu recipes.

Meanwhile, Graham Brady, the Chair of the 1922 Committee, comes to Liz Truss to inform her that he has in fact now received 54 letters of no confidence. Normally, of course, that would be considered enough to trigger a vote in her leadership; but not now.

However, these are unprecedented times. So he changes the threshold - if half of the Tories send him letters, her immunity will be revoked.

But the thing is, Tumblrs, the thing is...

It is all about to kick off in the most spectacular and catastrophic fireworks since Guy Fawkes had a dream.

Because Ed Milliband, once accused of leading the country to chaos and now riding high on the joy of his well-timed Twitter jab of Some Days Ago, wakes this morning and chooses violence.

He has spotted, of course, that no one likes fracking; even the Tories are against it.

He has also spotted that Liz Truss is very stupid.

So he goes into the House of Commons, and he digs a big pit and covers it over with twigs and leaves so it can't be seen, and he bakes a big cake and he places it in the middle of the twigs, and he sets up a net to fall as well and a big stick of ACME dynamite, and he hammers in little signs everywhere saying CAUTION - TRAP, by which I am of course being metaphorical because what he actually does is table a motion to extend the moratorium on fracking. The signs aren't necessary, really. This trap is easy to avoid.

All Liz Truss has to do, you see, is not use a three-line whip on this vote.

The three-line whip, as you'll all recall, is the highest level of coercion. MPs cannot defy a three-line whip. MPs cannot even abstain on a three-line whip. MPs have two choices on a three-line whip: to vote as they're told, or to be removed from the party. You obey or resign. That's all.

For this reason, it's sometimes called a 'confidence vote', as it is effectively a stand-in for one. The vote is not about the issue at hand - this is now a vote of confidence in your leader.

(He's also laid lesser traps. Years back when fracking was first being heavily discussed, Ed was Labour leader and one of the main figures in those discussions. During today, before it all Kicks The Fuck Off, a Tory stands and challenges him on previous statements about fracking, trying to accuse him of hypocrisy.

He was fucking ready for it.)

Graham Brady pops his head back around the door. He's changed his mind - a third of the party is all that's needed now to trigger a vote of no confidence in Liz Truss. And legend says he's only 17 off.

This is presumably the reason for what comes next.

Liz panics. Liz sees she's desperately unpopular. Liz sees that she has to do something to shore up support; and she sees that her important fracking rule, which her party hates her for, is now being challenged by a former Labour leader, and if he wins (which he will) she'll lose all credibility and maybe they'll take her nice office away and tell her she was a Bad Girl.

And so, with the inevitability of gravity on the now-leaden pound sterling, she makes it a three-line whip, and a confidence vote in her government.

INSTANT CHAOS.

There is uproar! There is rage! There is blinding fury! Tory MPs are standing up in the Commons and snarling and pissing and moaning! No one likes fracking except Jacob Rees Mogg! For TWO HOURS they shriek and scream and gnash their teeth, yelling at Liz Truss, demanding to know why this is happening.

(Legend has it chaos-deity Ed Milliband simply leaned back, put his feet up on the chair in front, and made Christian Wakeford hand-feed him grapes and fan him with a palm leaf, but this is unsubstantiated.)

And then, at 6.55, FIVE MINUTES before voting is ready to begin, the Tory Minister for Climate Graham Stewart stands up and declares that everyone should vote how they want because it's not a confidence vote.

Did I say there was chaos before?

Lol. Lmao, even. Rofl, in fact.

Now Tories leap to their feet and basically all scream one long, unending breath of WHAT-DO-YOU-MEAN-IT'S-NOT-A-CONFIDENCE-VOTE-WHAT-THE-FUCK-IS-HAPPENING-IS-IT-OR-IS-IT-NOT-A-CONFIDENCE-VOTE and so Stewart gets up again and says, right to everyone's faces, "It's not for me to say whether it's a confidence vote or not," which is an even faster and more spectacular u-turn than Truss herself could pull off given that he literally just said it wasn't and did so while being a minister.

And then the voting starts. MPs are now milling about like chickens who've sighted the hawk, clamouring to know if they're going to lose their jobs unless they vote for Satan. The Whips - specifically Chief Whip Wendy Morton and Deputy Chief Whip Craig Whittaker - descend upon them like fucking wargs on the hunt. They don't just spit vitriol and blackmail into MPs ears. They fucking bodily drag people into the right voting lobby. MPs are legitimately screaming. Grown men are crying literal tears. Labour's Chris Bryant reports holding multiple Tory MPs as they sob into his shoulder. Multiple MPs report similar scenes.

And Tories still don't know if this is even a damn confidence vote, or if they should just knock the Chief Whip's teeth out.

And then the Whips, filled with bloodlust and frenzy, suddenly realise that NO ONE IS LISTENING TO US, YOU'RE ALL SUPPOSED TO LISTEN TO US SO WE FEEL POWERFUL -

Cue sudden meeting in a locked room with Liz Truss. For over HALF AN HOUR.

So is it a confidence vote? No one is sure. Deputy PM Therese Coffey thinks so, so in the absence of the Whips she decides physical assault is her job now and is seen by David Linden MP (SNP) physically carrying someone into the voting lobby. Jacob Rees Mogg thinks not and starts yelling "It's not a confidence vote!", to which his colleagues reply, "Fuck off." Meanwhile the Whips have possibly resigned, no one is sure. It is still uncertain if this was a confidence vote.

And Ed Milliband basks in the chaos, playing the fiddle while it all burns around him.

Finally, voting concludes. The Whips reappear to lurk.

The votes are in - the government wins, and fracking will go ahead. But.

32 MPs abstained.

And one of those is Liz Truss.

Which is WILD??!? What possible benefit could she get from that??? No one knows. Everything is uproar again. Guess who else abstained? Well, riveted reader, here's a list with important names highlighted:

Nigel Adams, Gareth Bacon, Siobhan Baillie, Greg Clark, Sir Geoffrey Cox, Tracey Crouch, David Davis, Dame Caroline Dinenage, Nadine Dorries, Philip Dunne, Mark Fletcher, Vicky Ford, Paul Holmes, Alister Jack, Boris Johnson, Gillian Keegan, Kwasi Kwarteng, Robert Largan, Pauline Latham, Mark Logan, Theresa May, Priti Patel, Mark Pawsey, Angela Richardson, Andrew Rosindell, Bob Seely, Alok Sharma, Chris Skidmore, Henry Smith, Ben Wallace, Sir John Whittingdale, and William Wragg.

Kwasi still smarting about that p45, I see.

In any case it then turns out that Liz DID vote, but incompetently, because her voting card didn't read properly, which is actually fair given that she was being screamed at by angry Whips waving Graham Stewart's severed dick and balls around while they demanded power and authority. While she's clearing that up, the press are understandably waiting open-mouthed for comment, but don't worry Liz! Your old pal Jacob Rees Mogg is here to fill in for you!

And thus it is that JRM willingly chooses to go on the live news and calmly confirm to the nation that no one knows if it was a confidence vote or not.

Chaos. Chaos again. Unbridled chaos. The Whips are furious. Everyone is furious. The rebels are now in limbo, unsure if they're now out of a job. Tories are weeping, trying to work out if Rees Mogg WANTS to sink the party. Back bencher Charles Walker MP delivers a frank interview to the press absolutely SHIVERING with rage, like the drummer in a Fleetwood Mac concert. Ex-Lib Dem leader Tim Farron, a bland man known only for the time he himself willingly chose to go on the news and calmly explain that he's a homophobe without provocation, tweets that Liz Truss is a Lib Dem sleeper agent they sent in to destroy the Tories, sparking what is likely to be a whole slew of conspiracy theories by next week. No one knows what is going on. They all decide to sleep on it.

The good folks at Wikipedia ultimately decide to make three separate pages for the UK 2022 government crisis, and to label them with the month "to leave room for another by the end of the year."

Ed Milliband skips all the way home, and treats himself to a bacon sandwich.

20th October

Okay, Liz thinks, the morning after. Okay. Last night was bad. But today will be better.

So first... the vote.

Because there's bad news for Tories who like money and good news for people who like liveable planets - there are problems with the vote. For one, the vote counts are being called into question. Are the results reliable?

For another, the Speaker of the House of Commons calls for an investigation into the reports of, um, assault. So will the result stand?

It's so unclear! And so is that ongoing issue of whether or not the damn thing was a confidence vote. Angry whips say YES, JRM says NO, Downing Street refuses to pick up the phone to the BBC, but does send ITV's Robert Peston a text at 1am to say it was definitely a confidence vote and, unrelatedly, the Whips aren't resigning :)

I think we have found the price paid to keep the Whips.

Meanwhile. Let's see what this has done for Liz's leadership stability!

13 letters of no confidence are confirmed submitted by Sky, 5 of which came in overnight. The 1922 Committee reconvenes the coven to discuss matters. Simultaneously, the One Nation Conservatives reconvene their coven to discuss the same. Presumably there is much "Girl what are YOU doing at the Devil's Sacrament?"-ing and "Same cloak, how embarrassing"-ing. MPs are CLAMOURING for her head. It is VICIOUS. It's like cartoon piranhas in a supervillain's lair; which is highly appropriate, because that's exactly what Tory MPs are.

Graham Brady, head jester of the 1922 Committee, demands to see Liz Truss.

He walks into a room with her, and the doors are closed. Half an hour later, he walks back out of the room.

Ten minutes later, she calls a press conference.

45 days after being appointed, Liz Truss breaks the record, and becomes the shortest-serving British Prime Minister.

#politik #the second clownfall of 2022

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theorderofthetriad · 8 months

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im literally a kinsey zero bottom but there is something about Michael Cera that i want to top that dude, he needs to be on bottom it's where he belongs

#i am literally in bed about to go to sleep but i needed to announce this to the world i guess #we need a juno sequel just so elliot can peg him #santagno

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genshin-impact-updates · 1 year

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Dear Travelers,

After communications with the voice recording agency, we hereby confirm that Elliot Gindi, the English voice actor for Tighnari will no longer be voicing the character in subsequent versions due to a breach of contract.

At present, we are communicating with the voice recording agency regarding matters of casting and re-recording. We will gradually replace Tighnari's existing in-game voice lines, and issue these updates in the corresponding announcements. Thank you for your support, Travelers!

#genshin impact #genshin impact updates #official #genshin impact news #this isn't on hoyolab but i'm posting it anyway since i'm sure people want a resolution on this #(if you don't know what he did i can tell you but be aware that it's Really bad)#which is a shame since i really liked his delivery but it is what it is #anyway. YES! KILL!!!

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littlegrrl7 · 2 months

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We’re pleased to announce the lineup for “The Pull of the Tide,” releasing June 2024!

We were absolutely thrilled to receive so many diverse and wonderful submissions and we feel the anthology will include a little something for everyone’s tastes.

On a personal note, as three sapphic women, we consider ourselves incredibly lucky to have talented authors come together to participate in a fantasy romance anthology of stories where we can see ourselves.

“A Mermaid’s Heart” by SD Simper

“Xiphiidae” by Elliot Ason

“Lure me to the Deep” by Ali Williams

“For the Love of the Sea” by Aoibh Wood

“It Won’t Cost Much” by Theresa Tyree

“Ever in the Waves” by Erin Branch

“A Study of Pupfish, Margaritas, and Mermaids” by Rosemarie Dillon

“Tangled Tides” by Erin Casey

“Out of Water” by Julie Brydon

“Selkie’s Promise” by Evelyn Shine

Cover art by the talented @madbrake

#sapphic fantasy #sapphic romance #mermaidsandpirates #fantasy romance #sapphic books #sapphic anthology

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sunyandmony · 2 months

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"As the founder of Playtime CO. I, Elliot Ludwig, announce the grand opening of the Playcare! Where we hope that we can bring a smile to all the children visiting and more happiness in their life... F̘͍͖ͫ͘o̯̱̊͊͢r̴̨̦͕̝ẹ̿͋̒̕v͒̄ͭ̏̇ẹ̿͋̒̕r̴̨̦͕̝ ḿ̬̏ͤͅo̯̱̊͊͢r̴̨̦͕̝ẹ̿͋̒̕.."

More under cut ⬇

Hihi everyone, it's me!! Your silly:D

After starting this series I knew that all my characters would need a introduction, and with that I also came to the conclusion that I'll give extra the effort to make even some fun facts! For now yes there's only one au for Poppy Playtime, but I plan on making more that I'll take a darker approach with towards the series! (As I myself was not TOO pleased to find out how much cool stuff was scrapped in the newest chapter just to make it merchandiseable..Not saying it's bad, but could've been better!)

Anyways, aside from that all, I present you with the facts!!

Head canons for any aus I have made/will make! (counts for both reality universes and cartoon universes):

🌥️Dogday is actually a very timid being, even if he's brave on the outside when in danger. He is actually the softest at heart and this has got him in trouble with staff/kids/parents/teenagers...Dogday and Catnap were originally made to perform together on a stage, a show for kids that happens once per week. The idea was scrapped and they became attractions at the playcare with Miss Delight. Dogday also likes sightseeing, which is why his area is made specifically for that!!

🌙Catnap definitely is a mood, since he's always distant from people he doesn't like. He opens up so hardly that he mostly gets along with Dogday and the other smiling critters only. He hates adults/parents for a reason... He is very chill and laid back around kids. Catnap was originally supposed to wear clothes, but the idea was scrapped and he was simply given a charm. His prototype outfit did have a blue nightcap, but it was thrown away. Catnap however found it and kept it to himself. His tail can also infinitely stretch!

❤Bobby is the more motherly in nature, and she's always the one to help out overwhelmed kids, since it's part of her. She always helps the others to find the good in themselves and helps them with their emotions, mostly Kickin' and Hoppy are her main focus. She's always gonna be there to listen to you and give advice, or directly try to help(which once get her in trouble, since she's not supposed to go out of the playcare without permission). Over time she has made a quiet corner in the outskirts of the playcare and helped kids find their way there in case they don't like the playcare as is.

🍰Picky is the chef! Something you don't know about cooking or food? She knows it! She's the one that makes food for the orphans and kids, during the day she also secretly sneaks snacks outside to give to the kids since usually they were getting thrown out on a daily. She hasn't been once caught, her stealth always helped out. Picky can also secretly sing just as good as Catnap, since she's there most of the times during nap time to help him out. She just doesn't sing in public.. She also has her own restaurant!!

🧘‍♀️Hoppy is the most agile and has the best reflexes (alongside Kickin'), she always exercises which made the staff make her a separate area which is now a free daily course for kids to learn sports. She always slows down and repeats even twenty times what she said just so the one listening to her can understand what she's trying to say! She always leaves a cold first impression, but the more you know her, the more she opens up! She's the enthusiastic one of the critters!

🏃‍♂️Kickin' is the fastest out of everyone! He's a bit competitive but he never goes too far!! Since he doesn't want to hurt anyone or overdo anything (such as the races in the race away area). He won't bother you if you say 'no' ever again. He respects everyone just as much as they respect him. He looks up to Dogday as a leader, taking examples of kindness from him and trying to recreate them(half of the times failing and actually needing one of his friend's help) to become a better critter.

🎨Crafty is one of the best art teachers! She helps out the kids that like art to improve, giving advice and examples!! She will do the same lesson even ten times just so everyone understands. She doesn't let anyone fall behind! She always gets free time to help everyone, from making people happy to doing bets with Kickin' or painting the 'sky' with a disabled kid, nothing is too much for her!! Dogday keeps calling her out, but she doesn't want to admit it every single time he says it. Crafty always takes her time with her work even if it takes hours, or even days. She won't hurry anything up, because a job is only properly done if it's with patience! Crafty has (asked for) made her own art atelier, in which she does everything with the kids or adults that are interested. She does not have any exceptions just because of age!

💡Bubba is as smart as can be, of course smarter than the average person in their life. From helping kids that go to school with homework to helping the orphans learn anything they want, he will do it all! He won't judge you if you can't learn as fast as other kids, or anything of the like. He has no favorite students. Bubba works alongside Miss Delight in the school, entertaining the kids and being the teacher for other lessons that the Miss Delight teachers won't teach/aren't able to teach(even if they want to).

This all will also be linked in the master post just so anyone new can find it!!:3

Asks are open for everyone, so don't be shy! Even if you're not from the fandom or don't know anything, don't be afraid!

Anything about the au you want to know from me? Just specify it's towards the mod and I'll answer!

Anything directed towards the characters doesn't have to be specified!(if it's in context with everything happening, if not, specify!!!)

Some time later I'll also make a FAQ(frequently asked questions) in case some of them get repetitive! (Which will also be linked in the master post!)

Hope this was worth your time:(

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