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stop-breaking-my-heart-dragonage · 4 months

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This. This. This entire conversation with Morrigan actually makes me want to sob. She and my Tabris always becomes close friends over the course of DAO; that, paired with the fact that my Tabris always romances Alistair, makes everything about this hurt so much more when you take DAO's ending into account.

Her confusion over why my Tabris didn't send her away. Why she didn't abandon her after they learned of Flemeth's plans. Why Tabris went out of her way to slay Flemeth and bring her the true grimoire. She asks Tabris why, and is baffled when the answer is, "I did it because I'm your friend," as if it's that simple.

The way Morrigan looks at the warden, the way her voice cracks when she says, "I want you to know that while I may not always prove... worthy... of your friendship, I will always value it."

She knows how this will end; Flemeth sent her with the wardens with the end goal of stopping the blight and obtaining the old god soul through the dark ritual. Morrigan knows that Alistair and Tabris are the only Grey Wardens here, and assuming they don't find more, one of them will have to die defeating the archdemon unless they agree to do the dark ritual.

With that context, her asking Alistair, "And what if a Grey Warden has forced to choose between the Warden he loved and ending the Blight? What should his choice be?" suddenly has so much subtext weaved through the words that I'm gonna start foaming at the mouth. She's practically telling Alistair that a warden has to die. She's scrutinizing his reaction to find any hint that suggests he would agree to the dark ritual in order to save himself and the woman he loves. And when he doesn't choose, she has her answer.

Morrigan made comments to Tabris about him, almost hopeful that their relationship was just a physical thing between them and not actually riddled with feelings... and then gives disapproval when Tabris says she loves him.

She doesn't want the warden to die; hell, she doesn't want Alistair to die, either; whether because she does actually care about him or because she knows it'll break her friend's heart if she loses him, or both!

Things would be so much easier if the only two Grey Wardens left to defeat the blight didn't fall in love, wouldn't they, Morrigan?

She knows that in the end, no matter the outcome, she will lose the woman she called sister and it's devastating.

Morrigan, who has never known true friendship. Who grew up isolated in the woods with an abusive mother and terrible implications for her future. Who discovered said mother planned to take over her body just as she did with her other daughters. Who doesn't understand kindness as it was rarely given to her without a catch. Who isolates herself from the others in camp. Who finally has a companion she cares about... and in the end, if her plan works and the dark ritual is completed, she'll end up pregnant and alone and wearing Tabris' resentment like a tender wound on her heart.

Or Tabris will reject the ritual, and will die to the archdemon.

Or her lover will.

I just- the dynamic between the warden, romanced Alistair, and Morrigan is so good and painful and rich that I'm gnawing on furniture as we speak.

#dragon age origins #dao #alistair theirin #dao alistair #dao morrigan #dao tabris #warden tabris #i'm replaying dao right now in case my recent written posts haven't made that obvious #the relationship dynamics the warden has with each of the companions is so so soooo good like there isn't a companion i dislike #i play into the slow burn with alistair's romance but it's not even just the romance aspect it's also their friendship too #playing dao and not romancing alistair would feel wrong at this point for me it's so crucial to the entire story and its development #and i love morrigan's friendship with the warden and how gutted tabris is when she comes clean about everything and offers the ritual #and then bails once everything is over and tabris is torn between hating her and feeling hurt and not wanting morrigan to be alone again #i talked more in depth about morrigan and the ritual in a previous post but it's a lot... especially when it comes to the witch hunt dlc #oh and then there's the friendship between tabris and zevran like don't even get me started on that sksksks i won't be able to stop #even a character like oghren who is the last person you'd think tabris would ever become friends with since he's y'know *oghren*#but i'll go on the record and say there's more to oghren that gets overlooked and overshadowed by his glaring flaws #and i don't wanna talk about leliana... she makes me too sad like ever since my last playthrough where i accidentally triggered her romance #while i was deep in alistair's romance i have a really hard time not reading into the things she says to tabris #in my last playthrough i dunno what i did but she confessed to tabris even though she was fully aware that tabris and alistair were togethe #and it was a *mess* okay like it really felt like we killed marjolaine and leliana was in a vulnerable position yet was hardened enough #to be like 'i know she and alistair are together but i'll take my shot anyway and attempt to break them up' like.... noooooo leliana D:#and the rest of the game it felt like she was bitter and still in love with tabris and i felt *horrible*#i just said i don't wanna talk about it but hhhnnngggg i'm taking extra precautions to not have a repeat of that this time #excuse my tag ramblings i'm just very passionate about dao and the companions okay #also want to note that this is my interpretation of morrigan's motivations based on how i play the game and my warden #so others might view this reaction and the warden/romanced alistair/morrigan dynamic differently and in that case #i would be interested to hear that different interpretations because those are always fun to read

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falderaletcetera · 8 months

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listen. I don't just love father brown because I first saw it while ill with the flu or because it's consistently kind to the outcast in a way that has reviewers calling it Too Woke, obviously a vote in its favour. or because the recurring thief character is very pretty to watch. though those are significant parts of it.

I love it because after eight seasons father brown sits down with the village drunk (a munitions expert in the war, has a soft spot for the parish secretary, name of harold or blind harry) to find out why he gave a murder suspect a false alibi and harry explains to him, calm as you like, that seeing the life leave someone's eyes changes a person, that it's what he reckons brought father brown to his faith, that it's what drove him to drink, and he didn't see that shadow in the guy the police are chasing this time. and father brown, rather than justifying or correcting or dodging or doubting him, says he knows how unjust the situation is. that he got something good out of the horrors of the war. that harry really didn't.

it is not a perfect show and yes I have problems with it but gosh, this is a character who's largely used for comedic beats, albeit kindly, and a scene like this isn't out of place at all but it still takes my breath away. we could've been left with this as subtext, y'know? I hadn't even put together that his alcoholism must have been trauma. but instead harry tells us this directly, tells us it's about guilt, that that's something he shares with father brown, who is competent and so often cheerful and I can't even imagine when he was younger, and it's a moment of such unexpected humanity and respect. and it's such a strange thing to see these characters side by side like that.

the scene ends with father brown calling harry a good man, and harry denying it ("they was only young lads" "so were we, harold. so were we.") and the two them sharing a drink as father brown gets a bit watery-eyed and I'm crying too over my nice cosy 'this is a concerning number of murders for a sleepy english village' show and just. hi. what. ow.

I also haven't recovered from the episode that turned into a heist halfway through but frankly I'm only mentioning that because I don't know how to wrap up a post like this. (it was good though. there were two separate honeypots, three if you count the impromptu replacement, one character terrible at grifting and one unexpectedly great at it, and, somehow, a con within a con. it was really very fun. get a show that can do both, I guess?)

#back on my bullshit (unrepentant)#I was raised so protestant I retain a deep suspicion of priests so this remains very startling to me #something something father brown handshake emoji iroh #love where they are now no clue how they got there but it's always kind of a shock to be reminded there was blood along the way #also like. the kindness. the tea. the fondness for life's small pleasures.#pretending to be harmless and friendly and also BEING harmless and friendly to the core.#this is an association I had not made before so if you'll excuse me I'm gonna go hide my face in a pillow about it #father brown #falderal speaks #love a show that waits until you're comfy and then smacks you with a very human reminder of the horrors of war #love a character with. moral injury. listen shush I'm very predictable I just hadn't put together that it was father frikking brown too #silly little (not little) guy who elbows his way into situations by smiling pleasantly at people and who likes cake and jazz music #it's not like I forget he has depth I just. forget that the story GOES there #and so respectfully. harold who is usually slightly comic relief getting a serious moment that explains a lot and doesn't even feel jarring #I'm stopping here but like. good show‚ show. I did in fact have unexpected emotions about it.

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fictionadventurer · 3 months

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I thought that it was stupid that Brandon Sanderson had the narrator of Tress of the Emerald Sea call all the unnamed sailors "Dougs" when he could have just called them, you know, sailors. But then I started using the term. Turns out having a word for "yes, we know that realistically all these individuals have unique identities and personalities, but they're not the focus of this story so we're going to treat them as faceless background characters" is surprisingly useful.

#random thought of the day #because i was thinking way too deep into the portrayal of the nurses in artful dodger #and getting a bit worked up at how they're shoved aside (as usual for medical dramas) and not treated as real people #and then i was like 'calm down they're just dougs in this story it's okay'#(and then the next ep had one of the nurses call the girl a witch and i was like 'oh they remembered they have feelings. good work')#(and i felt even better)#incidentally despite my one and only post about that show being an angry nursing rant i am enjoying it #the girl's stupidly modern face and extreme entitlement are annoying #and i did skip part of ep ii because i'd just prefer not to watch relics be the butt of the joke #(even though they looked to be heading a slightly-less-offensive route than expected)#and ep 3 is going more soapy and melodramatic and less fun #but i do like that they have a 'young idealist versus experienced fatalist' dynamic going #soundtrack is fun #anachronism stays mostly on the fun side of the scale #fagin is shockingly amusing (i had expected more of a 'creepy blackmailer holding the past over his head' instead of 'chaotic criminal dad'#and i like that they're showing some restraint #(the deciding factor in watching it was my extreme surprise that a historical original was tv-14 instead of ma)#so we'll see how long it lasts but for now i'm not regretting the decision to watch

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iwritenarrativesandstuff · 3 months

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on my quest to find more books to read this year, there's been something kind of heartwarming to see that of the books on hold at my local library, or on the weekly bestseller's list at my local bookstores, there's always at least one book up there that's about Palestine. It's at least nice to see that some people in my area want to learn about the historical context of what's happening now, and learn far more than what a few posts on their feed can tell them. It makes me hope that public perception will continue to change for the better - and that the kind of support I've seen in my area won't die down immediately after a ceasefire is called

#storyrambles #palestine #i'm always hesitant to make any posts about palestine given my lack of personal connection or deep knowledge beyond the #continuous reading i've been doing #but idk. i wondered if this might be nice to see for people who do have a connection and feel discouraged.#and well. i don't think there needs to be a personal connection for one to feel happiness in this sort of situation #it needs to be so much better than it is currently. but i'll be honest #i really thought these protests were going to peter out very quickly after they started. that people would say 'it's a shame'#but not act. i've seen the same thing from previous outrage.#and i think that's because outrage doesn't carry as long or as strong as knowledge does.#eh i'm rambling again. i guess it's just nice to see people caring. even when the people who should speak for us civilians do not.#it's a mixed bag of emotions.#all my love to everyone affected by this. i wish you didn't have to be as strong as you are.#but for as long as you have to. i'd like to stand strong with you. and i hope that's enough to see real change.#ceasefire now

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obeymeow · 11 months

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nightbringer lesson 14 FUCKED ME UP in several ways but primarily I've spent the last 48 hours making myself sad over the solomon backstory we got. specifically I have, for no reason, latched onto that one chapter in the Kids event where baby solomon cried because he felt so guilty over being responsible for that spell. and that just feels a touch more depressing in context

#nightbringer spoilers #obey me on side #went back and unlocked the event again because i could not get this out of my brain i know it's probably not that deep #but it is that deep TO ME. okay #baby solomon has been on my brain since thirteen told that story so that's probably why it's sticking in my brain so hard but whatever #in case anyone was wondering the other things to make me sad are:#he has such a deeply excessive amount of lights in his room in purgatory hall there are SEVERAL chandeliers and lamps #there's a good handful in his room in cocytus hall too (his horror dg showed it) if a more normal amount #but that with the 'dim and gloomy' detail. ☹️#i've also always thought that solomon's loneliness wasn't all about the immortal angst but like.#having it confirmed that he's had reason to be lonely since he was a child- before he was old enough to know he was using magic-#totally crushed me girl why can't I be wrong #had emotions about lesson 14 in general but solomon backstory steals the show every time for me so i haven't gotten around to the rest #i'm enjoying the nightbringer story so much (not talking about the game design. that's a different thing entirely) but man #the pacing is WILD it feels like every lesson could be a whole lesson block at the least. it's giving me a lot of room to speculate #which I always love! but i do wish they would slow down a little and expand on some of these concepts they're bringing up #because the basic idea of the game alone is REALLY INTRIGUING and it'd be a shame if they raced back to the present imo #what was i even talking about. sorry my brain fast forwards as soon as i get into the tags there is not one sequitur to be seen #so curious about solomon's friend now too. like my guess is it's going to be lilith (and hopefully not in a popular fan theory kind of way)#because it's more than a little suspicious that they expanded on lilith's views on humans the way they did #in a way that SO PERFECTLY lines up with the expansion on solomon's views on humans #WHICH I HAVEN'T TALKED ABOUT YET BY THE WAY BUT LIKE. HE IS SO RIGHT AND REAL FOR THAT #it's beyond stressful to me that I think solomon is completely justified in his views and being completely reasonable about it #but that it would also mean war between the worlds presumably while the brothers are still recovering from THEIRS #you cannot give me that choice man. not even sure that the human world would be ABLE to win that fight if we're being real #solomon's 72 pacts are a lot yes but he's still only one guy who is NOT on good terms with the sorcerer's society #and mc is powerful but so so inexperienced. and that's IF they choose to side with the human world which #really i don't think the canon mc is likely to do. but anyway i guess solomon's friend could also be adam maybe?#that could be wishful thinking because i like adam though. even if his hair SUUUCKS #deeply offended by everyone thinking solomon got the fucked up hair when all signs point to adam be NICE TO HIM he's ugly already

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fluentisonus · 6 months

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#I just feel so like. idk how to even describe my state of mind.#it's like I've gone from depressed in a dull helpless way to depressed in a hysterical way but sometimes for a #little bit I'm also normal. i feel like the most boring person in the world & also like I'm losing my mind.#i genuinely never thought i would actually really get to this point in my life ever. not in that i thought I'd die per se it was just never #real to me it never felt like something i could feasibly accomplish & now I'm there i feel like i just stepped off into the deep end of #some alternate universe world i shouldn't even exist in like i don't belong here.#like when i pictured my life as a kid reality just ended here & everything else was fantasy I realistically knew I never could do #& I'm Trying so hard to get myself a job so i can do smth with my life beyond sort of stewing in boredom & existential terror mixed but #i do not feel like a real person who could feasibly do that. like i just thought I'd disappear or something I don't know what I thought.#like someone would just close the picture book of my life because I'm not someone whose capable of living a normal life.#like I've failed the test (just like I always expected to!!!) but I'm still stuck here they forgot to take me out of the experiment.#<- sorry I'm okay mostly I'm just. really going through it w the transitional stage of life thing

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scarletfish · 8 months

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as much as we talk about Neil being an unreliable narrator, I want to point out re: the treatment of Kevin's trauma...

neil spends nearly 2 books going "oh, riko? lol I've got WAY bigger problems my skeletons are so much scarier than this one kid our age could ever be. man up, Kevin."

BUT THEN. NEIL GOES TO EVERMORE.

and it fucking BREAKS him, y'all. no, he doesn't sign the contract - but he comes back a WRECK, ready to cut his own face off and begging wymack for help. he was there for two weeks.

kevin and jean GREW UP THERE.

I'm just saying... neil and the rest of the team shit on kevin quite a bit bc from their perspective, based SOLELY on media perception and the (I believe) VERY minimal facts kevin shares about Evermore, they see a spoiled, arrogant star who pissed off the wrong person and got hurt.

i don't think the team is just like "boo hoo you were horrifically abused suck it up we love neil more," i think they have no idea what he went through (and, sure, didn't put much effort in to find out bc Kevin's personality is more abrasive).

anyway, while i think neil is dealing with too much shit in tkm to really process what this means and extend understanding to kevin, I'd hope over the next few years that he does that work and kevin feels more comfortable slowly sharing details with the team and getting his own reassurances that what happened was fucked up and celebrating his small steps toward healing

#back in my Kevin feels bc niknak22 just posted a new chapter #if u haven't read the Dead of Night series and u want to experience an IMPECCABLE deep dive into Kevin's character #plus like. angst and crippling loneliness and (supposedly 😭 eventually😭) kerejean #go read it right now I'm not even kidding #kevin day #aftg #all for the game #foxhole court

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aeoris4lovers · 1 year

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Angstpril 2023 Day One: Liar

There were very few things in life that Eadwulf insisted upon without any chance of compromise. Choosing battles was a matter of survival under the tutelage of Master Ikithon; incurring punishment was easy enough to do even without the added risk that stubbornness presented. To resist bending only made it inevitable that one would eventually have to break, and as far as Eadwulf was concerned, the world offered little of great enough importance to justify tempting that fate.

It was not an oath made lightly, then, when he promised that he would return every day that he was able to one particular cell in the depths of Vergesson Sanatorium.

Astrid refused to speak to him for weeks after the incident, after what he did that night to save her from a fate far worse than a scar. So, with no one there to swear it to, he made his promise to the gods themselves.

He knelt on the floor of his bedroom, hands clasped together in his lap. Outside the small window above his bed, the cool light of the nearly-full moon fanned out across the skies, setting the shadowed room aglow with the night’s ghostly haze. His gaze settled on the nearest mountain peaks; ancient and immense and unmoving, he thought they must be the closest things to gods he would ever lay his eyes on. When thoughts of his past, of his people, of his own actions that night threatened to creep to the front of his mind, he pressed them back into the darkness of memory. They were gone now; there was nothing more to be done for them. Instead, he turned his thoughts again to Bren, to bright red hair and wild eyes and roaring flames and the crack of rock against bone.

“If I condemned him to this fate,” he whispered, so quiet it was more thought than speech, “let me be the one to see him through it.”

Only a moment later, the soft moonlight was eclipsed by the silhouettes of two ravens coming to rest on the windowsill, and he knew somewhere deep within him that his oath had been sealed.

The next morning, he rose earlier than usual and ate his breakfast as quickly as he could manage to hold it down. The sun still hadn’t even begun to show itself in the young day’s sky when he slipped past the guards at the sanatorium, giving each of them a look which told them not to stand in his way if they valued their lives. They had no way of knowing that, in truth, he wasn’t sure if he would have the courage to make good on that threat; they only saw the determination in his eyes and stepped aside.

As he pushed through hall after hall, he wasted no time looking at anything other than the faces in each cell, searching for blue eyes and red hair. Any strange looks that may have been aimed his way were lost in the blur of stone and bars and wrong faces.

When he finally turned a corner and saw a short-cropped burst of orange in the nearest cell, he was just in time to stop the guard who was preparing to enter with whatever sad excuse for a breakfast they had prepared for the day. He caught the guard by the arm, stooping down to look her in the eye, and pressed a few coins into her hand.

All he said was, “Let me.”

She stared at him for a long few seconds, head tilted to one side, before shrugging.

“If you insist.”

Handing him the tray of oatmeal and water, she unlocked the door of Bren’s cell and started off toward the next one down, leaving Eadwulf there alone. He slipped through the door, closed it behind him, and crouched down next to Bren, truly taking in his current state for the first time.

Perhaps the most noticeable thing should have been how beat up he was – the dark bruises, the blood that no one had bothered to wash from his skin. But instead, all Eadwulf could see was how empty he looked. There was always such a fire behind his eyes, a kind of passion and life there, like his mind was working so feverishly to puzzle the world together that you could watch it happening from the outside, and now? That fire had been all but doused. His eyes were glazed over, wandering helplessly around the space, looking through it all and not truly seeing any of it. There was a slight strain on his face, a clench to his brow that Eadwulf knew his resting face didn’t possess, which betrayed some process of thought, no doubt an unpleasant one. It was distant, though, and passive, as though the thoughts had taken on a life of their own within his mind and he, in this clouded state, was helpless to resist or engage them at all. When his gaze finally fell on Eadwulf, there was a soft spark of recognition that sent Eadwulf’s heart into his throat.

Eadwulf returned every morning after that, and again every night, so long as he wasn’t off on a mission or locked away for the sake of some punishment. Each morning, he fed Bren whatever breakfast the guards had prepared, careful to make it a far more gentle process than the other meals likely involved. As Bren’s hair grew longer with time, Eadwulf took to brushing it, and trimming it when the ends began to fray. A few times, he considered cutting it short again; surely, it would be more comfortable for Bren to have less of it. But there was no ignoring how his eyes fluttered closed at the feeling of it being brushed, or how he hummed in a way that almost seemed to approach contentment — better to keep it long, Eadwulf always ultimately decided.

At night, Eadwulf would clean him — easy enough to do with a simple spell, but most nights Eadwulf wiped his face and hands the mundane way first, probably more for his own sake than for Bren’s — and tended to whatever wounds may have been sustained since the last visit. Then, he would take out whatever books he had been able to find that day, sit by Bren’s side, and read. Bren’s favorite of the books, judging by the way his eyes brightened ever so slightly at the sight of its cover, was an old children's story about a young boy and a cat prince, so they always started and finished with that one. In between, they cycled through as many of the other books as Eadwulf thought they safely had time for, and by the time he closed the fairytale for the final time, Bren was almost always slumped against his side, asleep.

Eventually, once the rifts between them had been repaired, Astrid joined him for some of his visits, though she was quickly given more responsibilities than him and often found it more difficult to get away. On those days, Astrid would braid Bren’s hair once he had brushed it in the mornings, and alternated reading with him at night.

And after every nighttime visit, he would sit in his bed and write a few lines in a journal: how the day’s visits had gone, what had gone on in the outside world that day or over the past few days, what he and Astrid were doing in their own lives. Someday, he told himself, Bren would have his mind back. Someday, he would hand over the journal, a meticulous record of the days Bren was locked away. Someday, Bren would be able to read it, and it would be as if he hadn’t missed a thing at all.

In all that time spent in Bren’s cell, Eadwulf never feared being discovered by Master Ikithon — not out of carelessness or apathy toward the consequences he would inevitably incur, but because he knew it was foolish to assume he hadn’t already been discovered at the very start. The archmage’s gaze took immense care to avoid, and nowhere was it more omnipresent than in the halls of the sanatorium. The chances that he had gone unnoticed were laughably slim — it was better to assume Master Ikithon was well aware, that a confrontation would come soon enough.

And come it did.

One morning, nearly two years into his visits, Eadwulf arrived at Bren’s cell to see his teacher standing there, calmly watching him approach. Inside the cell, he could see Bren’s eyes wide and his face held more tensely than usual. He was shifting slightly where he sat, as though his own body were the walls of a prison preventing him from running away.

All at once, Eadwulf was overcome with the urge to run forward, to lunge at Ikithon, to scream, because how dare he come here and strike that kind of fear into someone so helpless, hasn’t Bren been through enough? But he pushed the urge down and kept calm as he walked in spite of it. It was him that the archmage was angry with, it was him who would face the consequences of his actions; Bren had no reason to be afraid.

As it turned out, neither did he. Master Ikithon wasn’t angry, not at Eadwulf nor Bren; he never said or even suggested that Eadwulf would be punished, and the calm smile never fell from his face. He seemed entirely unfazed — pleased, even — by Eadwulf’s actions.

“You are welcome to visit our dear Bren whenever you wish, Eadwulf,” he said in a tone that could almost be mistaken for good-natured, “as is Miss Becke. In fact, I think it’s wonderful that you three have grown to care so much for each other, even after all this time. By all means, do continue to come visit him if it pleases you.” Moving closer, he added in a lower tone, “I would only urge you to remember that it is for you, yes? As much as it pains me to say this, Bren is — how shall I put this? — absent, by all accounts. You are a smart boy, I have no doubt you’ve noticed. Each time you leave this place, it is to him as if you were never here at all; he won’t remember. The sharp young man we knew is, I’m afraid, no longer with us.”

And every night since then, as silence fell over the sanatorium’s halls, Eadwulf would look down at Bren, tucked against his side the same way they had once grown used to laying in their beds, and ask himself: how could that possibly be true?

How, when he still squirmed at the mere sight of his old teacher standing nearby, when his eyes still sparked at the sight of his favorite fairytale’s cover, when he still remembered how to fall asleep next to Eadwulf like it was as simple as breathing, could Bren be gone? How could it be possible that such a sharp mind, so full of passion and of life, simply slipped away? Even if he remembered none of it, even if each day felt to him like the first time, Bren seemed in his own way to welcome their company far more than any other’s, to relax in some small way at their presence; did that not count for something?

It would take him many more years to truly make sense of it, to fully understand the weight of what it meant, but the simple fact remained: that Bren was gone was the first of Trent Ikithon’s lies that Eadwulf ever saw through.

#yes this is a day late. no i don't know if its good or not. yes im posting it anyway because these are my babies #im deep in an Eadwulf My Beloved Who The Fuck Are You kick rn so most of my entries will probably be centered around Him™️#i want to peel him open like an onion and see what's going on inside. yknow #*slaps eadwulf* this baby can hold so much love shown through acts of service inside of it #angstpril2023 #criticalrole #fanfiction #day1 #liar #cr fic #critical role fic #eadwulf grieve #bren aldric ermendrud #caleb widogast #trent ikithon #<- literally my number one parasocial enemy tbh. and hes not even real #i would tag astrid but she's only very briefly mentioned so it feels wrong #this will eventually be on ao3 but for now i'm just slapping it here and getting the FUCK to bed

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