#The Bertrams are the worst

[bethanydelleman]

Edmund Bertram:

Mansfield Park Memes, Ch 44

[charliemwrites]

There are men across the street.

The house (and you use the term generously) that slumps there has been vacant for some time now. Ever since you moved in a couple years ago, actually. It’s an eyesore for sure. Graffiti on the walls, boards on the windows, a basketball-sized hole in the roof. The porch is the worst of it. Sagging in the middle and crumbling on the ends, stripped and moss-encrusted wood.

But today there are men there, stomping up and down the groaning steps in big, steel-toed boots.

You watch for a bit from the safety of your kitchen window, sipping coffee and batting your cat off the counter. They don’t look like a normal construction crew - wearing all black and not so much as a hammer on their belts. Three of them that you can see, one about average height, one tall, and one very tall. The tall one tags after the shortest of them often, gets pushed and shoved and snapped at it seems like.

You lose interest when the coffee runs out and your phone chimes, shooing you off to the grocery store. All three have disappeared inside by the time you saunter out, keys jingling and reusable bags in hand.

Margot says they’re renovating - likely some rich man’s retirement project. The same thing happened just down the street six months before you moved in, and now Joe has solar panels.

She postulates over the situation across the street while taking delicate bites of the cheesecake she brought over. (A test recipe for her niece’s baby shower in a few weeks. You don’t tell her that it’s too sweet and just sip your tea between bites.) She hypothesizes that one of them is this hypothetical rich man’s son, bringing some handy friends around for extra hands to work.

It sounds about as plausible as Agatha’s mutterings that they’re drug lords, so you nod along and watch your calico sneak up on your tuxedo behind her.

The garden is your own little retirement project. (You’re not actually retired, no matter what your sister snipes. But some smart money moves and a successful writing career is virtually the same with no kids and no spouse.) It’s going about as well as the renovations across the street - which is say, better and quicker than expected.

You planted clover in the yard, and are working on wildflowers in the boxes. The clover is already blooming, little flower tufts springing up for bumblebees to perch on. The wildflowers are mixed success so far, but nothing is dead yet.

You mostly just tootle around to be outside - allotted sunshine lest you become the shut in Bertram accused you of your first couple months.

The cats watch you pick at weeds from the window. Or two of them do. The other one is glaring from the fridge, angry that you tossed her back inside when she tried to slip past your ankles. (With any luck, you’ll have another sibling for them soon, but the handsome orange thing that keeps coming by at dawn and dusk is too stupid to be caught.) All three of them shift to look at something over your shoulder.

“Excuse.”

You don’t startle, thankfully. The voice may be unfamiliar, but neighbors stop by consistently enough that you’re not surprised to have your solitude interrupted.

What you are surprised by is the tall (very, very tall) man standing at the edge of your front yard. One of the renovators.

“Hi,” you say, straightening.

He points a gloved finger at you - no, not at you. Past you. At your cats.

“May I see them?” He asks in a thick German accent.

You blink, surprised and confused.

He’s a big man. Not just unusually tall, but broad as well. Muscle tugs at the fabric of his shirt, cargo pants clinging to his thighs. He also hasn’t bothered to take off the heavy duty dust mask, black sunglasses, or jacket hood obscuring his features. Looks like he’s about to rob you, honestly.

But Agatha’s uncharitable muttering about delinquent men rings like a warning toll. You’re at risk of sinking into the judgmental sea of upper-middle class suburbia, and that’s not water you want to tread.

“Sure!” You reply, ignoring his lack of introduction. “One sec.”

The cats see you dart from view and hurry to meet you at the door, meowing and yowling. You crack it open only wide enough to snatch up your precious firstborn, his leggies sticking out in abject bafflement at being airborne. You make guilty eye contact with your other two fiends before swiftly wedging the door shut again.

Then adjust your son, his little paws resting on your shoulder as you turn. Your visitor is standing right where you left him, perks up when he sees the cat bundled in your arms.

“This is Guy.”

You step closer, ignoring that shred of nervousness that being close to any man (especially one so physically intimidating) brings. To his credit, he only shuffles just enough to offer his hand for inspection.

“Guy?” he asks.

“I wasn’t going to adopt him at first, so I just called him Little Guy for so long that he thought that was his name. And then I did adopt him and now he won’t answer to anything else.”

You come by the rambling honestly - an obligate introvert until you moved to this neighborhood. There are few things you ever want to talk about with strangers, but your cats are one of them.

“He is a little guy,” the man muses.

Guy has no reservations about rubbing his fat face on the stranger’s glove, a purr kicking up in his chest. You relax as the man keeps his touch gentle and slow, that little bit of paranoid tension trickling into the soil beneath your feet.

“The other two aren’t as well behaved, I don’t trust them without harnesses on,” you add, nodding at the window.

The man glances up at them. Doesn’t seem to realize that his demise (and yours) is imminent from their glares.

“What are their names?”

You flush. “Rasputin and Shithead. I tell everyone else her name is Susan though.”

A sharp bark of laughter splits the air like a falling ax, cracks right down the middle. It makes you jump a bit - Guy is expectedly unbothered - but still you find yourself gratified. Laughing is good, it means you’re doing things right.

“Sorry,” he says, “but my friend would like that name.”

You gesture at the house across the street. “One of them?”

“Yes, the short one.”

You only just manage not to snort in amusement, but it doesn’t stop him from noticing. The mask moves, you think he might be grinning underneath.

“Does he know you call him that?”

“Not if you don’t tell him.”

You doubt you’ll have the opportunity even if you wanted to.

Someone’s at the door.

You’re only half-dressed, waist deep in laundry you have no excuse for putting off so long. Aren’t expecting company either - it’s Sunday morning, everyone should be at their various churches or visiting relatives. Can’t remember the last time someone knocked before noon on a Sunday.

Still, it was a big solid knock. The kind that makes you think it’s not the usual neighbor come by to impose on your space.

You glance down at the hem of your sweatshirt, determine it’s far enough down your thighs to be acceptable, and pad to the door.

You open it to another of the renovators. The “short” one - though you readjust that measurement quickly. He’s still taller than you, it’s just that most anyone seems diminutive compared to his friend.

“Morning,” you chime.

“We need your driveway.” His voice is low and rough, blunt. A sledgehammer to concrete. Also German-accented, you note.

“Oh,” you reply, “what for?”

He grunts. “Work.”

And you, a longtime observer of politely shaking people down for information by this point, smile without teeth.

“Oh, a work truck? It won’t make a mess will it?”

“No.”

You hum, glance at your stupid little sedan parked in the middle of the driveway.

“Okay, I’ll move — Shithead!”

You scramble to grab at the black and white blur of evil, sweeping her up in your arms as she meows in complaint. One of her back feet catches in the hem of your sweatshirt and starts to pull it up as she kicks. You curl an arm under her butt for support, but mostly she just takes the opportunity to chomp down on the meat of your thumb.

You glance at the man. “Shithead is very interested in the renovations.”

He stares. “So that is actually its name. I thought you were being rude and Konig didn’t realize.”

Ah, so that’s his name. You never did get that introduction.

“No, yeah, this is Shithead, I’m sure you can see why.”

The corner of his mouth twitches as she unlatches from your thumb, only to bite down on your wrist.

“So! The truck - when will it be here?”

“Noon.”

“Great! See you around!” You shut the door in his face without getting a name.

You threaten, not for the first time, to turn her into a pair of mittens. She responds by attacking your foot until Rasputin tackles her. Guy cries at the door, probably missing a man he met for all of two minutes.

The work truck stays through the night. Your cats spend all afternoon watching the men cross the street and back. Every once in a while, Guy puts his little feet up on the glass - Konig must be passing by.

You glance out the kitchen window only once and make hard eye contact with the third of their trio. He’s somehow even more covered up than Konig, and yet you get the distinct impression that your gaze is not welcome.

You blink and abandon the dishes for later.

The next morning, they’re already at it when you shuffle outside for the mail. Konig raises a slow hand in greeting, but visibly brightens when you smile sleepily and wave back.

You pass the work truck - the back panel is already open for them to unload wood beams and heavy-looking buckets. Construction stuff, as expected - and not messy, as promised.

You spot a red and white flag decal on the rear window. Austria, isn’t it?

“Did you just wake up?” a flat voice asks.

You squint a little through the morning sun at the man from the day before. The rude one.

You yawn. “Mhmm.”

He frowns at you, disapproval plain. Agatha will like him, you muse, shoving a hand in your mailbox. They both seem to have strong opinions about your sleep schedule.

“It is late.”

“It’s only 8.” You tug out a sheaf of envelopes and begin idly flipping through them.

“The sun is up.”

“So what?”

He clicks his tongue disdainfully. You absently click back. Then jump as a big body lands right in front of you. The third man, two wooden beams balanced on his shoulder. He makes brief eye contact with you again, then strides across the street.

“Shoo,” the rude one says. “Men at work, yes?”

You grumble. “See if I bring you cookies.”

Konig glances up from the truck bed, eyes shining. “Cookies?”

Well shit.

Rasputin keeps you company while you cook. He’s the only one allowed on the counter for any length of time. Shithead steals anything and everything, or bats at your hands while you work. Guy has the equal parts endearing and infuriating habit of touching everything with his paws.

Rasputin is the only one who will sit quietly to observe, leaning in for the occasional kiss. Today, he’s watching you bake cookies and assemble sandwiches. A dual-purpose welcome and peace offering to the three men across the street.

Is it too much? Maybe. But you’ve got nothing better to do and kindness won’t break your bank, so. Cookies and sandwiches.

You change clothes while the cookies cool on the pan - a sundress for the warm, late-spring weather. They’ve seen you in your pajamas far too much already.

At the door, you hesitate. This house doesn’t feel inhabited yet, but it also doesn’t feel right to just open the door. It’s quiet inside, so no power tools to drown you out. Making a face, you settle for a firm knock. It takes a minute or two - you think you might hear distant shouting. Then the door swings in fast and hard, nearly startling you.

It’s the third of their trio, the one you’ve yet to speak to. He’s covered head to toe, fabric around his head and face, leaving only sharp blue eyes to glare out.

“Hi,” you begin, hands thankfully too full to fidget. “I brought food.”

His eyes flick to the foil-covered platter in your hands. Then he swings the door wide and pivots on his heel.

“The cat comes too.”

Cat?

You glance down. Sure enough, Rasputin is standing by your legs, his remaining half a tail swishing. You sputter at him - didn’t even realize he snuck out - but all you get is his characteristic raspy “mah” noise. Right then.

He politely trots by your side as you enter, not even shy about your curiosity. The place is gutted, stripped walls and scuffed floors. It smells like dust and plaster and shaved wood. All the lights have been ripped out of the ceiling, exposing wires like nerve-endings.

There are two empty rooms to either side upon entry, a den and a dining room probably. The den even seems to be split into two, with one half sunk lower, accessible by a couple steps.

You follow your unexpected host through the “dining room,” which seems to be more of a satellite staging zone at the moment. There are piles of tools, stacks of materials, a little island of canvas bags. As you pass through, you notice a staircase, and even from the ground floor, you can see that it crosses over to the den on the other side.

The kitchen is stationed towards the back of the house. You try not to wince at the state of the counters. Pockmarked, blistered, scratched, burned, cracked laminate.

The floor has already been pried up to reveal smooth concrete. You scan it quickly for anything that could hurt Rasputin’s feet before entering.

Your neighbor gestures for you to set the platter down on an empty patch of counter, so you do, peeling back the foil.

“Cookies and sandwiches,” you explain just to have something to say.

“Why?” he asks.

You shrug. “To be nice.”

He stares. You blink back.

“I mean, you don’t have to eat them,” you add. “It would just be a waste.”

Rasputin chooses that moment to leap onto the counter, taking a moment to steady himself once he’s landed. With only one eye and a crooked leg, he’s not the most acrobatic or graceful of your babies, but he makes do.

To your shock, though, once he’s gained his bearings, he makes like he’s going to eat one of the sandwiches.

“Ras,” you gasp, surprised. “Absolutely not!”

The little shit doesn’t even resist when you nudge him away, just settles on his haunches, staring at your neighbor. And, to your confusion, your neighbor grunts.

“Konig! Krueger!” he barks.

That must be the rude one’s name. Krueger. You file that tidbit away.

“What’s your name?” You ask. “No one’s told me.”

He eyes you - dare you say suspiciously - letting the silence stretch.

“Nikto,” he rasps finally.

You finish introducing yourself just as the other two enter. Konig’s down to just the dust mask today, while Krueger seems to have donned one for himself.

“You,” Krueger says.

You arch your eyebrows back. “Me.”

“What brings you here?” Konig interjects, much friendlier.

“Well, you really seemed to want cookies yesterday, so I thought I’d bring some with lunch as a welcome to the neighborhood.”

He practically shoves Krueger to get to the kitchen. You politely get out of the way so he can indulge in your offering without getting trampled.

“Danke schön,” he says, scooping up a sandwich.

“No problem,” you answer, smiling.

Krueger deigns to sidle closer, inspecting the platter with a keen eye. Still, you think you see a bit of appreciation in them before he snatches up one of the sandwiches. For some (concerning) reason, you’re gratified by that. (You’ll just blame it on your habit of feeding ferals and strays.)

“I also wanted to give you three a little warning…” Three pairs of eyes pin you in place. You try not to grimace. “Everyone on this block is nosy as hell. They will literally peak in your yard and check your mail.”

“The mail?” Konig asks, appalled.

“Yeah, I started using a PO Box,” you sigh. You’ve only got so much sanity before you start taking sniper shots with a water gun.

“We will handle it,” Krueger says.

“I’m sure,” you demure. “Anyway, that was all. You can drop the platter off later - or I can come get it. It’s not like you’re far.”

You start looking for Rasputin, only to find him perched on Nikto’s broad shoulder. The man doesn’t even seem bothered by the claws digging through his shirt, scratching a finger at the calico’s cheek.

“Huh,” you say, surprised.

Nikto glances at you, pauses. “What?”

You snort at the bluntness, but grin. “Usually I’m the only one allowed to pet him.”

That’s three for three. Well, two and a half. Shithead could have been trying or escape or go for the ankles for all you know. But Krueger seemed to like her, so that counts for something.

“C’mon my little tank, let’s go,” you coo, approaching.

Rasputin nuzzles his face against Nikto’s once, gives him a parting mraw, then leaps into your waiting arms.

“Bye, guys!” You call, waving over your shoulder as you head for the door.

Konig is the only one to respond with a polite, “see you!” But you don’t take it to heart.

Next

Masterlist

[diorsluv]

feather , part 10

“ i’m saying ‘no, no, no, no more’ ”

series m. list previous chapter next chapter

( socialmedia!au )

yourusername

liked by lhughes_06, adamfantilli, mackie.samo, and 74,028 others

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yourusername

liked by jackhughes, adamfantilli, trevorzegras, and 82,185 others

yourusername went through my old photos and i guess this is sort of a photo dump.. if u ask me to explain the pics i might…….

so for all the trev, luke, jack, quinn, luca, mark, rut, turcs, eddy, and mackie girls, i hope you’re happy 🫶🫶

tagged: trevorzegras, _quinnhughes, mackie.samo, edwards.73, jackhughes, lhughes_06, _alexturcotte, rutgermcgroarty, luca.fantilli, markestapa

view all comments

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next chapter notes ) i’m actually grinding these chapters out it’s insane this one was really fun to make, esp the second post 😈😈 and also no booker this time so i hope yall like it a bit more lmaooo

[thatscarletflycatcher]

Top 10 favourite portrayals in Austen adaptations?

Hi!

10. Peter Gale as John Dashwood in Sense and Sensibility 1981

John Dashwood is most often portrayed as a weak, stupid fool designed to get on everyone's nerves, which tends to shift all the blame that belongs to his character upon Fanny. It is not so with this version of the character. It is obvious that he is rather stupid, but he's also greedy, selfish and callous himself, and an all around superficial person you can laugh at and be infuriated by.

9. Joseph Mawle as captain Harville in Persuasion 2007

Another example of a minor character done well, specially meritorious in this case because this adaptation is a tv movie. It is usually a problem that Wentworth's friends come across as a bit of a blur, but in this case, between writing and acting, Harville comes across as intelligent, loyal, amiable, etc, an all around gentleman whose friendship does credit to Wentworth's character.

8. Guy Henry as John Knightley in Emma (ITV) 1996

And another one! There's several "minor character in movie adaptation" in this list, because it is really hard to make a minor character feel "alive" or nuanced when said character is given very little screen time. Guy Henry steals the scene every time he appears in this adaptation. His delivery of the famous Christmas speech is impeccable. He also comes across as a loving father and husband too.

7. Angela Pleasence as Lady Bertram in Mansfield Park 1983

Jemma Redgrave (Lady Bertram in Mansfield Park 2007) is, in my opinion, a mesmerizing actress, one of those beings that are both beautiful and have a very strong scenic presence. I love her version of Lady Bertram, but Angela Pleasence is something else in the role, and somehow specially because her vibe is the strong opposite of JR. Always sweet, delicate, and soft spoken in her roles, her Lady Bertram is hysterical; I don't think there's a scene where she gets a speaking line where I don't laugh, and laughter is so very welcome in a story that can be as heavy and as painful as Mansfield Park. She provides a characterization that fits Austen's (pliable, lazy, dim, perpetually distracted) without making her insufferable.

6. Kate Beckinsale as Emma Woodhouse in Emma (ITV) 1996

Kate Beckinsale has always had queen bee energy, but her youth in this movie softens it enough that we can see how Emma is ultimately a young woman who means well, and means to be just. I don't read Emma as having the finishing school affectations of a Caroline Bingley (something that in my opinion happens in 2020 and to some degree in the Miramax movie); she was raised at home by an indulgent governess and rarely if ever meets other ladies of her rank. But I also do see where people are coming from when they criticize 2009 Emma for being too modern and her way of carrying herself as one that would have been considered vulgar in the regency era, and I think this Emma strikes a happy compromise. Emma has good manners and a sense of rank, but she's also decidedly provincial.

5. Hayley Atwell as Mary Crawford in Mansfield Park 2007

Love, hate or be baffled by this adaptation of Mansfield Park, most people seem to agree that this casting choice was great, and there's reason to it. Atwell is a very talented actress, and despite the script not helping, she brings out both the best and the worst of Mary out, avoiding both the femme fatale and the pure victim we don't talk about the expose my ankle scene

4. Olivia Williams as Jane Fairfax in Emma (ITV) 1996

I feel like Jane Fairfax also suffers from a problem similar to Emma in adaptations. She's made to have these very suspicious vibes and heavy-looking aspect (against the trendy more Heroin Chic look of Palthrow) in the Miramax movie, she's a mousy creature in 2009, and a sort of severe schoolmistress in disguise in 2020 (I'm exaggerating for effect, but for a character that is traced with few, delicate strokes in the novel, she surely gets a lot of rather sharp depictions). Olivia Williams gives a Jane that is very accomplished, but also elegant, understated and reserved. She's someone we can look at with Emma and see as a glaring spotlight on our shortcomings rather than an interloping rival.

3. JJ Feild as Henry Tilney in Northanger Abbey 2007

I feel a bit silly, because rivers of electronic ink have been poured over this beloved interpretation of one of the favorite Austen heroes, so what can I say about this one that hasn't been said before? Most of the choices in this list are unusual, and while I picked them because I think they are spotlight worthy and truly are favorites at the moment, I won't deny there is an element of... isn't it boring to repeat to each other ad nauseam what has been said over and over and over again and almost everyone is already familiar with? So I'll let you all fill in the blanks here.

2. Robert Swann as Colonel Brandon in Sense and Sensibility 1981

This one is very high on the list because Sense and Sensibility is very dear to me, faultless despite all its faults, I obsess over it, and colonel Brandon is a very dear favorite of mine. So I am very picky about it all, and have grown dissatisfied with the 95 adaptation (I was never particularly keen on 2008) despite acknowledging its many merits as a movie and a period piece. One of the most interesting things about this novel to me, is the treatment of strength and power in its male characters -it's not a central theme, but it is certainly there. John Dashwood and John Willoughby are men who have power, and the power society and money give them, they use to vulnerate the women under their care or influence; and they are morally speaking, extremely weak men. By contrast, both Brandon and Edward are men rendered more or less "powerless" in the circumstances presented in the novel, in appearance "emasculated"; they are soft, unimposing, they don't demand attention or space, but underneath all that lays great moral strength, and it's said moral strength to do what is right and helpful that makes them dependable and even admirable.

That's why it is very important to me for Brandon to keep these traits -that softness, melancholy, humility, unobtrusiveness- besides his moments of high dramatic emotion that showcase his affinity to Marianne, and Robert Swann is the closest to this that we have ever gotten (I cannot call it perfect, but it is so very close), where other adaptations, to different degrees, try to "butch up" his character.

Elizabeth Garvie as Elizabeth Bennet in Pride and Prejudice 1980

We have had our good Lizzys and our bad Lizzys and it gets on my nerves every time someone says "[actor] is [character]!" even and maybe specially when I say so myself, but, boy, has it happened very few times in my life that I have seen a performance and been struck by its likeness to the experience of reading the source material, and this is one of those. She's witty and she's lively but she's also young and vulnerable at times. She makes mistakes, she rationalizes, she reflects and changes and grows. She is what Caroline Bingley would call small and brown and not a beauty, but we see with Darcy the charm of her expressive eyes. I'd say if there wasn't any other reason to watch Pride and Prejudice 1980, Elizabeth Garvie's Lizzy would be reason enough and some.

Some honorable mentions:

Felicity Jones as Catherine Morland in Northanger Abbey 2007 and Hattie Morahan as Elinor Dashwood in Sense and Sensibility 2008

I struggled a lot back and forth with the first. It is a really, really good portrayal of Cathy's ingenuity and honesty and JJ Feild's Henry wouldn't have been as good without her to play off of, but I also sincerely couldn't find a spot in between the others for her anywhere either at the top or the bottom of the list. So she remains in limbo without fault of her own, and I apologize to her for this failure.

Now, the second... there's this story Emma Thompson tells in her diary of the making of the 1995 Sense and Sensibility where she talks about sitting on at casting auditions for Elinor, and, unlike other roles, there being many candidates who gave great auditions, and her commenting "this is a country of Elinors". EDIT: it's been called to my attention in replies that it was Ang Lee calling Britain a country of Fannys, as it was Fanny's casting process. I do feel the dictum also applies to Elinors, on othe opposite end of the spectrum. That's probably the main thing keeping Hattie Morahan off the list. She's my favorite Elinor, but I don't think we ever had anything closely resembling a bad Elinor. 81 wasn't directed well, and Emma Thompson was indeed too old for the part, but characterization wise, they were good. Joanna David was really good in 71. And I felt on making this list that the "standing out significantly" was a key aspect. but she was, indeed, a really great Elinor.

Dan Jeanotte as Edward Ferrars in Sense and Sensibility 2024/Bosco Hogan as Edward Ferrars in Sense and Sensibility 1981

These interpretations of Edward are dear to me, and linked by being sort of opposites that complement book!Edward. Bosco Hogan is an unfiltered portrayal of Edward's diffidence, depression, and lack of personal charm even if his manners are polite. Jeanotte's captures an undercurrent of sass and glimpses of the character's deeper feelings and active negative emotions. Each on its own is incomplete, and yet show something essential to the character that is dissimulated or erased in 95 and 08; I wish I could mush them together somehow and have an Edward portrayal I could wholeheartedly love (From Prada to Nada's Edward gets relatively close, but then that is a rather loose adaptation).

Ask me my top5/top10 anything!

[firawren]

Austen siblings: the worst of the worst

Please vote based on their depiction in the books, not the movies. Other than that, use whatever criteria you want. Most toxic? Least well-suited to each other? Most well-suited to being awful together? Most annoying? Least realistic? Up to you!

These are in alphabetical order by last name, so read the whole list before voting!

I have a best Austen siblings poll too.

[cottagecore-raccoon]

Note: this isn't necessarily asking who you think is the worst parent, just who you personally would struggle with being raised by the most

(Parents who died before the novel began aren't listed here)

[henry-fox-biggest-stan]

Rating Austen’s first lines (this is a rating of the lines, not the books) (rated based on my thoughts of when I read them for the first time, unaware of what happens later)

1. Emma Woodhouse, handsome, clever, and rich, with a comfortable home and happy disposition, seemed to unite some of the best blessings of existence; and had lived nearly twenty-one years in the world with very little to distress or vex her. — Emma

Iconic. Makes you wanna be her in just one paragraph.

2. No one who had ever seen Catherine Morland in her infancy, would have supposed her born to be an heroine. — Northanger Abbey

I love this one, I don’t know why

3. A gentleman and a lady travelling from Tunbridge towards that part of the Sussex coast which lies between Hastings and Eastbourne, being induced by business to quit the high road and attempt a very rough lane, were overturned in toiling up its long ascent, half rock, half sand. — Sanditon

Pulls you right in.

4. It is a truth universally acknowledged, that a single man in possession of a good fortune, must be in want of a wife. — Pride & Prejudice

It’s a classic.

5. The family of Dashwood had long been settled in Sussex. — Sense & Sensibility

Straight to the point.

6. The first winter assembly in the town of D. in Surrey was to be held on Tuesday, October 13th and it was generally expected to be a very good one. — The Watsons

I hope it was.

7. About thirty years ago Miss Maria Ward, of Huntingdon, with only seven thousand pounds, had the good luck to captivate Sir Thomas Bertram, of Mansfield Park, in the county of Northampton, and to be thereby raised to the rank of a baronet's lady, with all the comforts and consequences of an handsome house and large income. — Mansfield Park

Good for her.

8. My dear brother,—I can no longer refuse myself the pleasure of profiting by your kind invitation when we last parted of spending some weeks with you at Churchhill, and, therefore, if quite convenient to you and Mrs. Vernon to receive me at present, I shall hope within a few days to be introduced to a sister whom I have so long desired to be acquainted with. — Lady Susan

Not the worst.

9. Sir Walter Elliot, of Kellynch Hall, in Somerset, was a man who, for his own amusement, never took up any book but the Baronetage; there he found occupation for an idle hour, and consolation in a distressed one; there his faculties were roused into admiration and respect, by contemplating the limited remnant of the earliest patents; there any unwelcome sensations, arising from domestic affairs, changed naturally into pity and contempt as he turned over the almost endless creations of the last century; and there, if every other leaf were powerless, he could read his own history with an interest which never failed. — Persuasion

Didn’t ask about Sir Walter Elliot’s passion for monarchy.

[buggre-alle-this-for-a-larke]

Something I think people forget is that James and Sirius are said to have bullied and hexed more kids than just Snape (who you could argue deserves it, at least a little). It was something they did for fun.

OotP it’s said by Lily in the Snapes Worst Memory chapter:

“Walking down corridors and hexing anyone who annoys you just because you can”

Then in the next chapter it’s corroborated by Remus who says the same thing:

“And stopped hexing people for the fun of it.” Said Lupin.

“Even Snape?” Said Harry

“Well.” Lupin said slowly, “Snape was a special case.”

In HBP we get the actual name of another kid they hexed on a detention slip that Harry has to copy out:

‘James Potter and Sirius Black. Apprehended for using an illegal hex on Bertram Aubrey.’

So it wasn’t just Snape, and it wasn’t some crusade against the dark arts. Hexing kids was something they did for the shits and giggles because they could - and something they did grow out of by the time they were 7th years.

[ravenclawloverofseverussnape]

I can't imagine Minerva being Snape's friend for one simple reason.

Minerva never defended Severus when his lion cubs (aka the Marauders) teased him non-stop with their "pranks", Where was she in Snape's worst memory?, Where were you when Bertram Audrey's head was enlarged with an illegal spell? Where was she all that time? Honestly, if she were Snape she couldn't be friends with Minerva. Yes, the fanarts of her with Snape and Albus look great, but if you look at it from that point of view, it's not so great anymore.

[lizzy-bonnet]

Austenian Dads

A recent post about mothers-in-law by @bethanydelleman had me thinking about the dads in Jane Austen. We get a lot of discourse about mothers and mother figures, who have big, important roles in the stores, but her depictions of fatherhood are interesting too. Here, in my opinion, are the dads and dad-like figures in her novels, ranked from best to worst.

(note: I've left out deceased and barely-there dads, but I will note that Mr. Dashwood's attempt to look out for his daughters, and the amount of grief occasioned by his death, indicate that he is a Top Dad.)

Mr. Musgrove - Notwithstanding "poor Richard", Mr. Musgrove has three reasonably well-adjusted adult children, seems to love his younger children, and goes to his daughter's bedside when she is injured. His children all make Sensible Matches, and he likes kids enough to permit the little Harvilles to be brought back to Uppercross to increase its noise. He folds my beloved Anne into his family and treats her affectionately whenever she is with them. By the standards of the day, he seems pretty solid. 8/10 Least Bad Dad.

Sir John Middleton - Like Mr. Musgrove, Sir John is a people person. His immediate and unreserved adoption of the Dashwoods in their hour of need tells us that he is an unambiguously good-hearted person, which usually leads to loving parenting. His kids are young so we don't see him interacting much with them, but his desire to give everyone a nice time bodes well. He doesn't notice when his teasing goes to far. 7/10 definitely tells the same dad joke over and over.

Mr. Bennet - As a reader I love him because he's pithy, but he's honestly not a great dad, and is not modeling a happy marriage for his daughters. He shows favouritism to Lizzy, lets Lydia run wild, is hurtful towards Mary and Kitty, and fails to save up any money to bribe worthless young men to marry his daughters. 5/10 for putting all his eggs in the "having a son" basket and then doing nothing when the handle on the basket breaks.

Lt. Price - Loud, embarrassing, shiftless. Ignores his daughters but seems to maybe do OK with his sons? 3.5/10, tops.

Sir Walter Elliot - This fucking guy, am I right? He's vain, he's self-obsessed, he's a spendthrift, and he's a dreadful parent. His eldest daughter is his favourite and he basically forgets Anne and Mary exist when they're not directly in front of him (and sometimes doesn't notice them even when they are). His favouritism has damaged Anne and Mary in different ways to Mr. Bennet's to his younger daughters, but the source is the same: he has one child who is like him and others that he doesn't click with, so he basically lets them shift for themselves. In the Elliot household I'm certain this means that sensitive Anne was left to grieve her mother without any comfort from her father. It's no wonder she was ready to marry the first loving man she saw. When he sees her looking well, he thinks it's down to her skin care regimen. 3/10 merely Gowland's.

Sir Thomas Bertram - Poor Fanny, her father figures are both the pits. Sir Thomas knows absolutely zero about what any of his kids are like and can't see how bad Aunt Norris's influence is on all of them. He swings wildly between neglectful and overbearing, and then tries to pressure Fanny into marrying Henry Crawford despite his attentions making her visibly miserable. He also knows perfectly well that Fanny is shy, and yet does not give her any warning that he's throwing a ball for her coming out, plus he sends her home to Portsmouth as a sort of weirdo punishment to make her see what she's missing by not marrying Henry. 2/10 points and he really only gets these for 1. offering to free Maria from her engagement and 2. getting a fire in Fanny's grate, even if he left it until WAY too late to do her much good.

General Tilney - the closest Austen gives us to a villainous parent. The General is dictatorial to his children, oppressive around the house and occasionally creepy towards Catherine. This is made apparent by the fact that the Abbey suddenly becomes much more fun when he goes off to London. He shows himself the ultimate Bad Dad by tossing his daughter's friend out of the house without explanation and hardly the resources to get herself home. 0/10 Gothic Tyrant Dad.

[bethanydelleman]

So the Mansfield Park relationship between Mary and Edmund is Ted and Robin from How I Met Your Mother.

Robin has very clearly stated she doesn't want children, Ted absolutely wants kids. For some reason they date anyway, for a super long time! And it just made me angry. You guys are in your thirties, get your act together! Love cannot cover unreconcilable differences!

So dear Edmund, just propose or give up! You keep wishing Mary will change, but she won't! Being a pastor is fundamental to Edmund; not wanting to be stuck in the country is fundamental to Mary. You can't fix that. Love cannot cover everything.

Mary does decide to accept Edmund if he proposes, but will she really like the life she would have chosen? In a big way, these two were saved by fate.

I will pity Edmund a little more because he's much younger and he's never been in love before. I have no patience for Ted. (and yes, the ending was stupid and makes the mother seem like a baby maker that Ted had to get through to make it to Robin)

[thehobbem]

Jane Eyre - Part II

DKZJFBDGHSJAKSJD THIS IS THE WORST MARRIAGE PROPOSAL IN LITERARY HISTORY

*clears throat*

A few days ago I wrote this post about my first thoughts on Jane Eyre. Since people wanted to see my reactions to further events, here I am.

I gotta say: you were all holding out on me, because not only does Jane Eyre have a man more ridiculous than Darcy (by a CLEAR mile), but it also has a clergyman more insufferable than Edmund Bertram, which??? should not be possible???

Okay, so:

I was hoping Rochester would give up on the wedding and confess to Jane about his wife in the attic, but nope! And he would've gotten away with it, too, if it weren't for those meddling solicitor & brother-in-law. Like. This man is so idiotic, and felt so unbelievably sorry for himself, that he said with his full chest "yeah, bigamy is the solution! :D".

...Very uncomfortable how the narrative attributed the lowest possible vices to Bertha Rochester, while calling her "the creole". The vices weren't outright attributed to her being of mixed ancestry, but it felt like that was what was meant. All very uncomfortable. As uncomfortable as when the landed gentry wanted to visit a Romani encampment to see the Romani people (while, ofc, using the g-slur) as if they were animals in a circus? Hmmm, yeah, tough call!

(Look. I'm not gonna go around publicly denouncing books from past centuries for not being politically correct, bc that is an idiotic way to relate to literature from the past. Society was what it was, and not even the authors we admire so much were above that most of the time. But I can, and will!, look at certain things and go "wow, this aged like fucking milk". I think that's fair.)

AND THEN

Rochester, who can't possibly be thinking straight, proposes that Jane become his mistress!!!! Edward Fairfax Rochester, have you ever even MET Jane Eyre?? Do you know her but at all????

And he's like "me, me, me, what's to become of me, am I to be denied love, doesn't the world feel sorry for ME" and I nearly spit on my kindle, I was so mad XD How is this man, pushing fucking FORTY, putting on this preposterous show and leaving this 18-year-old girl to comfort him?????

(To bring up the sad sack that is Edmund Bertram again: it reminded me when Edmund wrote to Fanny: Maria has brought ruin to their name, Tom has nearly died, everyone is in distress, and he's like "But Fanny. Think of ME!!!" ugh)

But yes, honestly, Rochester's not evil, but he's so. goddamn. stupid. And draMATIC. I love him, he's a riot.

...I do not love how he kept blaming others for him marrying Bertha. Like. Sir. You were an adult and you married her of your own volition. "My father" this, and "her family didn't tell me" that, but YOU looked at her, thought she was gorgeous, and agreed to marry her. So fuck you. Hold yourself accountable, for a change. You man child.

So yeah, Jane runs away, which is totally the right decision, and without any money, which is totally the wrong decision, and ends up eating burned porridge again, and I'm like. If I had a nickel for every time Jane Eyre had to eat burned porridge while starving, I'd have two nickels. Which isn't a lot, but it's weird that it happened twice.

Jane is then saved by the Rivers siblings: Mary and Diana Rivers, who are absolutely precious, and St. John Rivers, who is absolutely

UNBEARABLE OH MY GOD WHY DIDN'T ANYONE TELL ME

Me, every time St. John appeared on the page:

Hey. Charlotte? Charlotte. Was this a ploy? Did you bring St. John into the story to have us like Rochester more? Is St. John your way of going "Yeah, I know, Rochester is deranged, and what he wanted to do was morally and legally and spiritually wrong, but look at how boring righteous people can be!"? Was it? If so, it FUCKING WORKED, BRING EDWARD ROCHESTER BACK RIGHT NOW.

*rubs temples*

Also??? aekjsdzcbvsdjfsk I can't: St. John: "I found you employment." Jane: "Really? Which is it?" St. John: rambles on about the will of God or something, for entire paragraphs. Jane, who patiently waited for him to finish: "So? The job?" St. John: "Right! I don't know if you're gonna like it, but" rambles on again about the will of God or perseverance or something, for entire paragraphs. Jane: "Right. And the job?"

SIR FOR THE LOVE OF GOD PLEASE TELL US WHAT THE FUCKING JOB IS

THIS IS LIKE MR. BROCKLEHURST ALL OVER AGAIN

...Oh. Oh.

That's the point.

St. John really is Brocklehurst again, I love it: both love to talk about how Christian they are, and how it's important to lead a life of humility, etc -- the difference being, ofc, that St. John is not a hypocrite, fat capitalist pig, he's actually leading by (insufferable) example. And they both make Jane feel bad about her true self, just in opposite ways.

And St. John wants to be a missionary, because of course this insufferable man wants to be a missionary and impose his views on nice people who are just living their fucking lives. And he goes on and on about... idk, bringing light to the unenlightened and saving pagans or whatever, and it's SO pedantic, and it's SO patronizing, and it's SO... UGH.

I cannot believe Jane gave this man a quarter of her entire fortune.

AND THEN

HE MAKES THE WORST MARRIAGE PROPOSAL IN THE ENTIRE ENGLISH LITERATURE

No, I have not read the entirety of English literature, but oh boy am I fully confident in my statement. This is the WORST. Like. Mr. Collins' proposal is a shining beacon of unbridled love and romance next to THIS.

Me, reading his proposal:

"Jane, you weren't made for love, you were made for labour. You were made to be a missionary's wife" QEIARKSHV\CZNB;SAEKFJSDVC I'M GONNA GOUGE MY EYES OUT WITH A SPOON

At least Jane, too, was full aware of the insult XD Love that when she told Diana of the proposal, she repeated those exact words, and Diana was like "Girl, what??? Nu-uh!!!".

But it's all great. She refuses him, and he gets all prickly and assholish about it in the most holier-than-thou way possible, I hate him, but then she hears Rochester's voice in the wind crying out for her, and she hurries back to Thornfield. Sure, we've all been there.

Then we find out karma does exist and is the proverbial bitch: Rochester lost an eye, all of his eyesight, a hand, and his manor. Wow.

And then???? They have the CUTEST reunion ever???? And I was so happy for him???? For them??? Charlotte 😭😭😭👌👌👌

Rochester being all jealous of St. John, and I'm like "no, you're safe, he's the worst, he told Jane she wasn't made for love".

He also holds himself accountable at long last (hard not to, after all that), and he thought Jane was deeeeeeaaaad, and he was inconsolable and I'm a MESS

So all is good in the end: they marry -- LEGALLY! :D -- and have a child, and he recovers his eyesight on the eye he still has, and the Rivers siblings marry and are happy, and the book ends... with a letter from St. John saying he's dying??? WHAT

I love all of it. Specially St. John dying. A few stray observations:

The foreshadowing of future events is very well-planted, nicely done, Charlotte. That horse chestnut tree being split in half by lightning after Rochester proposes marriage to Jane? 👌👌👌👌👌 If I ever saw an omen!

And Jane. So smart, so good, so compassionate, so horny on main, so witty, so brave. May God keep St. John Rivers far away from her forever and ever.

LOVE how Jane begins with an aunt (who knows her and hates her) and 3 cousins (a John who torments her trying to diminish her, and two sisters who don't care if she's alive or not) and ends up having an uncle (who doesn't know her but loves her) and 3 cousins (a John who torments her trying to "elevate" her and two sisters who love her and save her life). The story is obviously very cyclical, and I enjoyed that a lot.

Don't know if I love or hate the fact that Charlotte slapped a "St." in front of the name of the John who wants to be a missionary and is the opposite of the first John XD (Yes, I know St. John is a real name, I've seen it many times before, but it's a bit on the nose here!)

...I wonder if Miss Ingram ever found out that Rochester wanted to marry the governess. I would've paid Charlotte Brontë good money to write THAT scene.

And last but not least: Pilot is the goodest boy in the whole wide world.

[afirewiel]

I'd love to hear everyone's arguments, so please do share!

[whenthegoldrays]

Anyway, my official diagnosis is that Edmund Bertram really isn’t as bad as he’s made out to be, and his biggest problem is that we’re seeing him at his worst during the events of Mansfield Park (and Henry Crawford at his best). And even then, at Edmund’s worst, he’s able to see the woman he’s besotted with for her true self and break ties. Meanwhile, Henry, even at his best, isn’t able to say no to a woman whom he doesn’t even like that much.

[tnoy-keraxis]

who’s the best to worst dancers amongst the players

Okay simple ranking let’s go

Cyprian - he is just kind of incredible at everything he tries. That is until he noticed Alaric during Neon and ended up in a heap.

David - I mean he’s the choreographer, it’s a no brainer. He is annoyed that Cyprian is better than him. But it’s okay he carries himself through with pure charisma.

Sigrid - She wishes she got to dance more in this show. She loved dancing in other shows.

Anneke - She helps David with some of the choreography, she's really strong in ensemble numbers!! a reliable queen, she is always happy to help everyone learn.

Bertram - Unexpected because he is so tall and awkward but he does a great job with choreo, he takes his time to learn.

Fiora - She does trip over herself a lot because shes tall and a little uncoordinated but that's okay!!! She just sells it with a smile!

Clarice - Not a bad dancer but she is a park and bark queen, she doesn't love dancing but she can do it better than most of the others.

Eydis - It's just not her thing, and thats a-okay. She is more of a singer and an actress than a dancer, but she is always willing to ask for help so she is quite successful.

Gregor - He is too busy thinking about violence and destroying things, but thats okay, his horrible energy distracts from his terrible footwork.

Alaric - are we surprised? He's not actually a bad dancer, he is probably better than Gregor and Eydis but he just gets stuck staring at Cyprian and is always a little behind. Can we blame the man?

These are just the main 10, but for the understudies: I would say Tove is probably between Eydis and Gregor because she is younger and more inexperienced but she's working hard! Petra is probably between Bertram and Fiora, she's fairly dedicated to learning, but it's not totally her thing. I feel like Sabine is between Sigrid and Anneke, she is like a mentor to the others, she has classical dancer energy,

[firawren]

Austen brOTPs

I did polls for best and worst Austen sibling duos, so how about the non-sibling and non-romantic duos?

Again, please vote by book depiction, not movies.

In alphabetical order by last name for fairness, so read the whole list first before you vote!

I have a silly version of this poll with inanimate objects and concepts that you should vote in too!