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soybeantree · 4 years

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a baby changes everything pt.2

pairing: do kyungsoo x (reader) genre/warning: artificial insemination, fluff word count: 3.6k description: when you decided to have a baby, you knew everything would change, but this is not what you expected… parts: o1 | a/n: october installment of our ‘trying to write a kyungsoo story for every month that he is gone’ series.

A fresh pile of folders thuds on your desk, and you raise an eye to the Filing Clerk who offers a weak smile. “You said you wanted the reports from the last three years.”

You did. You need them, but they forebode a long day. “Park wants my analysis by this evening?” You clarify, and he nods. You return the gesture before grabbing a clip and twisting

your hair up and out of your face. No time like the present to begin.

An alert sounds on your phone when you’re at the halfway point of the report pile. Resurfacing from the sea of numbers, you check the notification and suppress a string of curses. “Parent Teacher Conference” flashes on the screen. You had forgotten. You had promised your son you would remember, and you had forgotten.

The remaining half of the report pile mocks you. You have thirty minutes until the conference and no hope of making it through in time. You swipe away the alert to reveal your lock screen, a photo from Theo’s seventh birthday. Theo had covered the both of you in cake while Kyungsoo, standing behind you, managed to remain cake-free. You pick up the phone to call in the cavalry.

When you had chosen to undergo artificial insemination, against the advice and protestation of your family, you had been prepared to be a single mother. You knew, or at least thought you knew, the challenges you would face and were prepared to handle each one as they arose. After the first weeks with no sleep, no chance to shower, and no concept of self, you had been more than happy to have someone who would come on the first call.

Kyungsoo answers on the first ring. As the heir and president of a multinational corporation, one would expect to reach a secretary or voice-mail, but he answers each time.

“If Theo is still insisting that his grandfather will get him a pony for Christmas, know that I have spoken with his grandfather about it.”

“Theo hasn’t said anything about a pony.” You switch the phone to your other ear and close the file in front of you. “Have I missed a conversation?” The other end remains silent.

“Rather than offer other suggestions for your call, please tell me why you are calling.”

You chew the inside of your cheek for a moment before deciding the parent teacher conference is the more pressing issue. Kyungsoo agrees the moment you mention it. He already had it on his schedule. You can hear him climbing into his car before the call ends. With crisis averted, you return to the pile of reports.

Kyungsoo texts you when the conference ends – it went well - and asks if he can take Theo to dinner and ice cream. You agree. You have nearly finished your analysis but still need to do some grocery shopping, and grocery shopping is always easier without a seven-year-old.

They are waiting at the park down the street from your apartment when you walk by with your arm full of groceries. The bags dig into your arms, and a stray strand of hair refuses to leave your eye alone no matter how many times you blow it out of the way. After another failed attempt, you call out to the two. Theo stops mid jabber and races towards you. His face bright with enthusiasm. He restarts his jabbering as he skids to a stop in front of you. Kyungsoo follows at a milder pace. You glance from your son to him. “I take it you know what he’s saying.” You joke as you shift a bag further up your hip and blow at the stray strand again.

“Only because I was there when it happened.” He reaches forward and brushes the strand behind your ear. His fingertips graze your temple as he does. A shiver races down your spine, and you blame it on the cool autumn breeze. Taking one of the bags from you, he starts down the sidewalk to your apartment.

“I was telling you about the parent teacher conference...which you missed.” Theo huffs as he stretches his legs to match his father’s gait. You walk beside him, sandwiching the boy between you and Kyungsoo.

“I do want to hear all about that, but first what’s this I hear about a pony?” You stare down at him, and he stares at his shoes, his shoulders rising to cover his ears. “Theo?”

“The last time I was with grandpa I just said I would like a pony. I didn’t mean he had to buy me one.” He darts his gaze to you, then to his dad. Kyungsoo keeps a straight face as he stares ahead, so your son turns back to you.

You shake your head, and he smiles a toothless grin. He had lost another tooth a week ago and took every opportunity to show off the incoming big boy tooth. “What have I told you about your grandfather?”

He sighs, his tiny frame collapsing with the loss of breath, but he manages to roll his head back and stares up at the night sky. “Just because Grandpa has all the money doesn’t mean I should ask him for everything.”

“Because?”

“Because things do not make me happy.” His conviction is lacking, but you nod, encouraging him on. “And I have everything I need.”

“That’s right.” You three stop in front of the entrance to your apartment building. “Now, take that grocery bag from your father and thank him for all his help today.” His body droops even further, but he holds out his arms.

Kyungsoo clutches the bag tighter to him. “I can carry it up.”

“That’s okay. You’ve done enough.” The words slip out before you can comprehend their double meaning. Kyungsoo’s face turns to stone. “I’m sure you have work waiting for you.” You try to salvage the situation. “And Theo is more than capable of carrying groceries.”

He nods. A forced smile pushes against his cheeks, but he drops to his knees to pull Theo into a one-armed hug before handing him the bag. When he stands, you two stare at each other. His fingers twitch, ready to reach out for you. And he could. It would be normal, natural, but you remain rooted to the concrete. In the end, he waves, an awkward gesture, and is gone.

Even after seven years, you are still trying to figure out your relationship with Kyungsoo. When you had selected sperm for insemination, you had never expected to meet the donor or have any form of relationship with him. Fate is funny though. Before you had even given birth to Theo, Kyungsoo entered your life. He was there when Theo was born, and within that first month stepped into the role of co-parent. He watched him take his first steps, have his first birthday, go off to his first day of school. But he has also stood beside you when you quit your job, when you needed a plus-one to social functions, when your dad had his heart attack. Co-parent no longer seems to fit him, but nothing else does.

“I think my teacher likes Dad.” Theo pulls you back to the present as you reach your front door.

You unlock the door and hold it open for him, sneaking through with the groceries before it closes on you. “Why do you say that?”

“Because she kept going like this while we were talking.” He faces you and flutters his eyelashes. “And she laughed at everything he said, and you said that if a girl does those things it means she likes you.”

You nod along, the conversation fresh in your memory. He had come home in a state last week with many questions about girls. You had answered as many of them as you could and told him some would have to wait until he was older.

Setting the grocery bags on the counter, you start to pull things out and hand Theo the cold food for him to put away in the fridge. “Do you think your dad liked her back?” The question surprises you.

Theo shakes his head. “No. He kept doing this:” he clears his throat, loudly and pointedly, “anytime she asked him a question that wasn’t about me.”

You smother a snort and mask any sound which may have escaped with the folding of the bags. “That sounds like your dad.” The image of Kyungsoo in a too small desk forcing a starry-eyed woman back on topic threatens to unleash another snort.

“Mom, do you like Dad?” You choke on air as you face Theo. He stares at you all innocence.

“Of course, I like your dad. He’s a good dad.” You grab a handful of groceries and head for the pantry before he can ask a follow up question. “Now tell me what you talked about with your teacher and slower this time.”

He huffs but answers. “She said I should join a sports club because it would be good for my social development.” His voice goes high and airy with the last words, and you know he is quoting her verbatim.

“What did your dad say?” You ask as you grab the remaining food and head back to the pantry.

“He agreed with my teacher, and she gave him a list of the clubs.” Theo closes the fridge and climbs up on one of the counter’s stools.

“Do you have the list?” He shakes his head, and you make a mental note to ask Kyungsoo for a copy. “Do you want to join one of the clubs?” He nods. “Which one?”

“Soccer.”

You change the mental note to ask Kyungsoo what you will need to do to sign him up and who to contact about schedules and equipment. “That sounds fun. Now, you’ve still got an hour of homework time before bed.” He groans, but you pat him on the butt, shooing him off to his room.

“Mom, where are my cleats?”

“In your closet on the bottom shelf.” You hear the clatter of toppling boxes, followed by thuds which you assume are shoes being thrown aside. Someone will have a room to clean after their game. You make the mental note as you finish up the snack pack: almonds, grapes, and dark chocolate, a perfect pick me up during half time.

“Theo, are you ready?” You ask as you dump ice on the top of the cooler bag and zip it up. After two more crashes, your son appears in the kitchen, dressed in his full kit including his cleats. “What have I told you about wearing your cleats in the house?”

“Mom!” He whines, his shoulders dropping in exasperation. He, thankfully, refrains from stomping his foot.

“Don’t ‘mom’ me. Do you see those scuffs on the floor?” He twists his torso to glance at the living room floor he nonchalantly raced through. Thin white lines scar the dark wood. He faces you again and offers a grimace in apology. “Take them off, put them in your bag, and wear your sneakers until we get to the field.”

He opens his mouth, ready to protest, but one look from you silences him. He crouches down and begins to unlace his cleats. “Is dad almost here?” Kyungsoo had offered to pick you and Theo up, saving you from a forty-five-minute bus ride.

“Yes,” you grab your phone from the counter to double check his last text. “By the time you finish what I told you to do, he will be here.” Tucking the phone in your back pocket, you grab your purse.

“Which car is he bringing?” Theo glances up at you, cleats in hand. His eyes shine with expectation.

“Why does that matter?” You cross your arms and arch a brow.

He has the decency to look sheepish. “I was just wondering.”

“And I was just wondering how long it’s going to take you to put on your sneakers.” He darts off and you shake your head.

Theo reappears wearing his sneakers and with his athletic bag slung over his shoulder. You do a final check of the apartment before grabbing the cooler bag and heading down to the parking garage where you know Kyungsoo will be waiting.

He is waiting by the elevator doors. The cooler bag is off your shoulder before you even start your greeting, not that you have a chance to give one. Theo is off, talking a mile a minute, as soon as he sees his dad. Kyungsoo smiles and nods along to the excited chatter. He offers you a smile, the only greeting he can manage with Theo’s barrage. You return the greeting as you follow him to his car which to Theo’s delight is the Range Rover.

“Soobin is going to be so jealous!” He comments as he climbs in.

“One of his teammates.” You answer Kyungsoo’s furrowed brow. “Apparently, he and Theo have a bit of rivalry about whose dad is better.”

“Mine is. Soobin is stupid.”

“Theo!” You scold. Kyungsoo closes the door, saving him from your reprimand. You glare at him, but he is already walking to the back to place the cooler in the trunk. “Boys.” You sigh as you climb into the car.

Theo’s team wins. While neither of the goals was his, he did have an assist. Soobin did score a goal, and the brewing foul mood was visible to both you and Kyungsoo which was why you both enthusiastically celebrated his skills when he trudged over after the game. Kyungsoo picked him up, a feat which will become impossible in the coming years, and promised dinner at his favorite restaurant.

The three of you sit around a table laden with food. Kyungsoo had also promised him he could have anything he wanted off the menu, and Theo, the growing boy that he is, ordered more than he could consume in five dinners. You throw a look at Kyungsoo as the waiter places the last dish on the table, but he shrugs and helps Theo load food onto his plate. You grab a plate of your own and begin to fill it more modestly.

“Has work calmed down at all?” Kyungsoo asks as Theo’s mouth is too full to continue talking.

You shake your head. “Unfortunately, not. I have a pile of folders on my desk waiting for me on Monday, and I’m sure more folders will be added to it before Monday even arrives. Mr. Park said he would hire an assistant for me, but I have yet to hear of any interviews, though I’ve reminded him.” You pause, biting on your fork as you think. “Three times now. I’m ready to send him a very nasty email depending on how bad Monday is.”

“I do know the CEO of your company.” Kyungsoo suggests as he leans across the table to grab a side dish. “We’ve attended social functions together.”

“Don’t you dare.” You wag your fork at him. “I am more than capable of handling Mr. Park. Besides, he’s not that bad, and I wouldn’t want him peeing his pants after a phone call from the CEO.”

“You still pee your pants as a grown up?” Theo joins the conversation, horror contorting his features. He had to wear pull-ups to bed until he was four. When he went a whole week without wetting the bed, Kyungsoo had taken you two on a weekend trip to the beach.

“Some people do, especially if you get a call from your boss’s boss’s boss.” You side eye Kyungsoo. He smothers a smile. “You don’t have anything to worry about though. You dad would never let that happen to you.”

“Of course not, because dad is going to be my boss.” Confidence brims from his eyes as he inhales another mouthful. You glance at Kyungsoo who shakes his head.

“Theo, where did you hear that?” He asks.

“Grandpa.” Though with all the food in his mouth, it sounds more like “fampfa”. He swallows and continues. “He said that when I grow-up I’m going to work at the company and when dad is done working that I’m going to have his job.”

“Do you want to work at my company?” Kyungsoo’s question eases the chokehold that you have on your fork, and you reach for your glass of water as you remind yourself to remain calm.

Kyungsoo put an end to his family’s machinations to steal your son long before Theo was born.

Theo’s lips purse, and he rocks his head from side to side before shaking it firmly. “I don’t think so. Your work is boring. I want to have a fun job.” Kyungsoo snorts. The uncharacteristic gesture pulls a laugh from you. Within moments, the table is full of laughter.

The combination of the game, a full meal, and the gentle hum of the car ride puts Theo to sleep before you reach home. Kyungsoo carries him up to the apartment for you. While you know you should wake him to shower and change, his face, soft with sleep, convinces you to let Kyungsoo place him in his bed. You need to wash the sheets anyway.

Kyungsoo returns to the kitchen as you are pulling a bottle of wine from the hiding place in the pantry. “A nightcap?” He asks, stopping at the counter.

“I need a drink.” You go to the cabinet and pull out two glass. “Would you like some?” He nods, and you fill both, yours a little more generously than his.

He cups the glass, swirling the liquid, as you take a large gulp of yours. “Is this about my father?” He watches the dark liquid coat the edges of the glass.

You lean back against the counter next to him and nod. “I’m grateful that Theo has a relationship with his grandfather, but I need him to realize that Theo is not his heir and that he can’t just buy him whatever he wants. At the same time though, I wonder if I am a bad mom because I’m stopping someone from buying him a pony.”

“You’re not a bad mom. Theo doesn’t need a pony. If he was going to pursue Equestrian Sports, maybe.” He shrugs, smiling at you. “But I think he is happy with soccer.”

You snort, taking another sip of your wine. “Did you do Equestrian Sports when you were his age?”

“No, but I did have a horse.” You raise a brow. “I barely rode him. There wasn’t time. My father was training me to be his heir.”

“And that’s exactly what I don’t want for Theo.” You glance at Kyungsoo and find that you have slid closer to him. The wine warms your body, and you find your attention drawn to his lips as he speaks.

“I know. I’ll talk with my father.” His voice is low and husky. His lips vibrating with the words. Wine coats them, making them shine in the dim light. Perhaps, you should have turned on more lights than the lamp in the living room. Theo’s question comes back to you. Do you like Kyungsoo? “Y/N?”

You shake your head, clearing the alcohol from your thoughts. A stray hair falls into your face. “Sorry. Thank you.” You try to focus, your hand going to brush the hair out of your eye.

Kyungsoo’s hand reaches it first. He tucks it behind your ear. His hand lingers on your cheek. His fingertips light on your skin. “Sorry.” He whispers. Your cheek grows cold as he reclaims his glass and swallows a gulp. “I should call a driver. This wine is hitting harder than I expected.”

“Or,” the word slips out, and you blame the wine for loosening your lips. “You could stay the night. The couch pulls out, and I have a spare set of your clothes.” You keep your gaze fixed on the living room lamp. “It’s been a bit since we’ve got to enjoy one of your breakfasts.” You add on when the silence stretches between you.

“I see. You just want me for my body.” He breaks the tension.

You snort. The wine in your glass sloshing and threatening to spill out. “If that’s what you want to think then sure.”

He takes the glass from you and sets it on the counter next to his. You’ve both had enough wine for tonight. “Do you have stuff for breakfast tomorrow?”

“My fridge is stocked with every healthy thing imaginable.”

“Healthy.” He scrunches up his nose. His glasses fall down the bridge when he relaxes it, and you fight the urge to take them off.

“Is that a yes or no?” You speak around the lump in your throat.

He thinks. The moments tick by as you berate yourself for asking something too stupid and risqué. Kyungsoo is Theo’s dad. No matter how blurred the line between you two grows that line will always be as crisp as a fresh stroke on paper, and you should be avoiding anything that could complicate that relationship.

“Yes.” You blink at Kyungsoo and wonder if hope has spread a filter over your ears. “Y/N?”

“Awesome.” You answer, assured that you heard correctly. “I’ll go get the clothes.” You start towards your bedroom but throw over your shoulder. “Since it is still early, but only if you’re up for it, there is this new movie on Netflix that I’ve been wanting to watch.”

“So, Netflix and chill?”

Stuttering to a halt, you whip your head around. He smiles at you all innocence. “You’re ridiculous.” He shrugs. With a shake of your head, you march into your room, his laughter trailing after you.

#kwritersworldnet #kyungsoo #do kyungsoo #exo #kyungsoo drabble #kyungsoo series #exo drabble #exo series #hmw #kyungsoo collection

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yikeswtfmate · 4 years

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Golden // Part 1

Summary: There’s this cute guy Y/N keeps seeing on her morning run.

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Reader

Warnings: swearing; sexual references

A/N: in case anyone’s wondering - this is verbatim my train of thought when writing, before all the editing happens; enjoy this fic that came to me in a fever dream/ sleep deprivation/ stress induced delirium/ post CATFA rewatch; this is also the reason why no one should take me seriously ever

masterlist // next part

It’s been two weeks. Two weeks since Y/N moved to this side of the city, two weeks since her evening jog suddenly became her morning run, two weeks since she’s met the most gorgeous man she’s ever seen in her entire life. It’s been two weeks since she’s perfected her morning routine to the point where she now knows exactly when to tie her shoelaces on the bench next to the West gate in order to see him round the corner into the park.

It’s 5:43 am on a Wednesday morning and if anyone would’ve told her two weeks ago that there would come a time she’d wake up by choice at this ungodly hour she would’ve laughed in their face and fluffed her pillow.

It all started when Sam convinced her to meet him at 5:30 that day in exchange for helping her out with moving. He never showed up and later explained he slept during his 20 alarms because Clint insisted on a “calmer, more relaxing alarm that won’t instantly make you want to murder someone.” Hell would have followed, if it weren’t for the cute guy that passed before her eyes – a nod in her direction, eyes sparkling in the sunrise and Jesus Christ, for the love that’s all holy, this guy is a wonder. So Y/N not only forgot all about Sam’s treason, but her focus was completely diverted to that huge back that seemed to be bursting at his shirt’s seams.

5:44 and Golden Boy seems to now be hesitating for a moment when he sees her – a novelty, truly, considering his acknowledgement always only extended to a nod and a smile. Y/N is even more confused when he stops right next to her. Does she have toothpaste on her cheek? Did she forget to put on a shirt? Oh god, Y/N, whatever you did, please tell me you put on deodorant at least.

“Hi.” He says and oh fuck, if his voice doesn’t sound like melting sugar from a cotton candy.

“Hi?”

Her answer comes out more like a question, but at this point, Y/N is more panicked that this guy actually exists and isn’t just a continuous delirium caused by her sexual frustration. He smiles and wouldn’t it be funny if she actually said that out loud. Ha ha, Y/N, you dumb clown, you’re not in a rom-com, stop it. Focus.

“I can send you the link of a company that makes great running shoes.”

A few seconds pass, he’s still smiling and Y/N realises she should maybe say something and not just blink continuously at him.

“What?” She croaks, because really his offer makes no fucking sense and there are no brain cells left in her brain now that she hears him talking.

“Your shoes.” Golden Boy points to her foot on the bench, shoelaces still untied. “You always seem to be tying them when I see you.”

“Oh.” I don’t know what to tell you man, you’re on your own here. I told you you’re a dumb clown, and isn’t it great when your brain just refuses to cooperate with your mouth in order to form words? Or even say something remotely intelligent rather than – “Huh, yeah, I’ve never noticed.”

Golden Boy smiles because he knows, it’s not that hard to decipher her lingering looks or the way she’s suddenly always there when he starts his run, or even how she sometimes bites her lip when he smiles at her. He’s not dumb, he sees all of that, but he’s also wanted to be absolutely sure before making his move and to be honest, if it weren’t for Bucky’s bet, he would’ve kept staring at her legs until they would’ve both grown old without saying anything.

“I’m Steve, by the way.” He says and extends his hand which is huge, thank you very much and there’s a split second there when Y/N’s brain falls completely in the gutter.

“Y/N.” She smiles and fuck, please tell me I’m not imagining this and you really are holding my hand for far too long to be appropriate.

“Y/N.” He repeats, and he likes the taste of her name on his tongue, but he also very much likes the way she seems to be melting right there on the spot for a second. “Could I take you out for a date one of these days? I feel like 6 in the morning is maybe too early to share a bottle of wine.”

Yes, a thousand times yes. Take me here, right here on this stupid bench and anywhere you’d like, Stevie. But she only says “I’d love to.” like a well-behaved lady that her mamma supposedly raised.

“Great.” A step back and a huge grin on his face that might just split his face in half because he really does love that lip biting she’s doing but he also can’t do anything about it here without him being arrested for a) indecent exposure and/or b) indecent behaviour. “I’ll ask Sam to give me your number.”

“Sam?!” She can’t help the screech that comes out, but let’s be honest here, what the fuck?

“Yeah, he told me he knows you when I kept going on and on about you when we went out for drinks.” He winks. He winks! The audacity of this man. “I’ll pick you up at 8. I’d suggest you wear jeans.”

“Jeans? Are you taking me rock climbing or something, Steve?” Her shock is replaced by confusion yet again and Y/N wonders if this man will keep her on a rollercoaster of emotions. Did he say he knows Sam? Did he also admit he’s been talking about her for enough time that Sam picked up on exactly who she was? Did he just invite her on a date? Jeans?!?!

“Not spilling any secrets, but I’d think riding a motorcycle in a dress would be quite difficult.” He’s shouting as he’s running backwards, a wave in her direction and she’s left dumbfounded – again.

“A motorcycle? A motorcycle?!” Y/N shouts. “What do you mean a motorcycle?! Steve!” She’s more than certain he can hear her, mostly because he’s laughing at her reaction, but on the other hand, she can’t deny that her panties are already soaking just at the image of this Golden Boy on a bike. Goddammit.

#steve rogers x reader #steve rogers fanfiction #steve rogers fic

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izzielizzie · 4 years

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Chapter Seven

Sorry this took so long!!! I had a hard time getting it started. Anyway, we’re back at Bronwyn’s pov. Enjoy!!

“We’re leaving in twenty minutes!” Mom calls up the stairs. We’re going to Simon’s funeral, and even though I feel a little weird going after the school practically accused us of killing him, my parents said I have to go, so I guess I’m going.

“Okay!” Maeve calls down the stairs as she leaves the bathroom. She’s just taken a shower, and her hair is wrapped in a towel. She catches sight of me and frowns. “What?”

I shake myself a little. I must be giving her a pitying look. I keep trying to figure out if I should tell her about TJ cheating, but I feel like she wouldn’t listen.

“What do you want Bron?”

“Can I chill with you before we leave?” I find myself blurting out. Maeve stares at me for a few moments, and I’m so ready for her to laugh and tell me to go away that I don’t completely hear her when she says, “Sure. Why not?”

She brushes past me to push open her door and pauses. “Well don’t just stand there like a weirdo, come on.”

I step into Maeve’s room for the first time in what is probably five years. I mean, I guess I am allowed in here, but I make it a point not to come here. Maybe because I was scared that Maeve would change her room and our childhood would be gone. Or maybe I wanted to prove to her that she could trust me. I don’t even know anymore, but I didn’t need to worry about her room changing: the walls are still a pale purple, and her window seat is still white with floral throw pillows and a purple knitted blanket folded underneath the book I’ve seen Maeve reading in the living room when I practice piano. The only difference is her corkboard with pictures pinned up is filled with photos of her and her soccer friends, not me and our childhood friends like it was when we were young. I sit gingerly on her bed, covered in her white duvet with the purple and yellow polka dots. Maeve opens her closet door and roots through until she finds what she wants. She turns with a black jumpsuit pressed against her body.

“Good?” I’m temped to turn around and see if she’s talking to someone behind me, but I’m not that stupid.

“Good,” I agree. I turn and let Maeve change, and I turn back again when she tosses her shorts and t-shirt over my head and into the hamper. She’s at her dresser, in front of her mirror, when I turn back around. The back of her jumpsuit is still partly unzipped, and I stand and walk over to her. She flinches when I fix the zipper, and I’m startled for a moment. Since when did the girl who demanded hugs every five minutes flinch when touched?

“Thanks sis,” Maeve says. There’s a serenity to her that isn’t there usually. She’s humming as she brushes her long hair out. “I’m thinking of cutting my hair. What do you think?” I still want to look around to find the actual recipient of my sister’s kindness, but I don’t. Whatever is happening right now, I don’t want it to end.

“I like it long,” I say truthfully. She looks nice with long hair, and I can still remember how devastated she was when her hair first started to fall when she was little. Once when I was laying in her hospital bed next to her, she had sworn that after all this was over, she would grow her hair out as long as Mom would permit. I had told her I’d do the same, and now, when I step forward to look in the mirror with her, I can’t see the resemblance between us anymore. My eyes, a sharp grey, are behind dark glasses, my tan skin looks yellowish against my black dress, and my shoulder length curls are limp and a little fuzzy. Maeve looks, as usual, amazing. Her straight hair is falling around her like a curtain, and it’s a few shades darker than mine. Her skin is as pale as Mom’s and the splash of freckles across her face are more pronounced than usual, and her eyes, god her eyes are so bright they could illuminate the room. My sister has always been the beautiful one, and I’m glad she’s happy today. But, even though I know I’m going to regret asking this, I need to know: “Maeve, why are you so happy today?”

Maeve smiles a little as she gives her brush one final tug and places it on the dresser. “I hung out with an old friend yesterday. It was nice.”

“Luis Santos,” I say promptly. Maeve hits me with her best side-eye.

“Don’t be so judge. I saw you with Nathaniel Macauley.” She did? When?

I hold up my hands in surrender. “I’m not judging. Just stating a fact. I saw you with him at the dinner party yesterday.”

“That’s nice,” Maeve says, picking up her chapstick.

“Are you going to date him?”

“Are you going to date Nate?”

“What? No!” I’m shocked for a moment. “He wasn’t totally in love with me when we were kids. Unlike someone.” I bump my hip against hers, and she spins away from me.

“Yeah, right.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” I ask as Maeve pulls her black sneakers out from under her bed. “And don’t wear those.” Maeve glares at me as she puts her sneakers back and crouches down until she finds her party shoes, the black leather ones that are nearly identical to mine.

“It means, mi hermana, that Nate was like, totally in love with you.” Maeve redoes the laces on her shoes as I stare at her.

“Don’t be dumb. He was my best friend. That’s all.”

“Best friends don’t have their first kiss after a soccer game.” I can feel my face turn red as my sister smirks at me.

“And best friends don’t carry each other to the elevator at fancy hotels,” I fire back. I’m waiting for a reaction, but I don’t get one.

“Luis isn’t my best friend,” Maeve says calmly with a shrug as she unplugs her phone from her charger and sways out of her room.

“Nate isn’t mine either!” I call back. Maeve just laughs as she leads me down the stairs.

Half an hour later, Dad pulls the car into a parking spot outside of the church, and we pass Luis Santos, Cooper Clay, Addy Prentiss, and a bunch of their friends. “Maeve!” Luis calls. Maeve’s glow intensifies until I can hardly look at her. She turns to our parents, a questioning look on her face.

“Go ahead honey, we’ll save you a seat.” Mom is grinning at Maeve, and I can tell why. Maeve hasn’t been this giddy since she was a kid. Maeve floats away to Luis and his friends, and Luis slips an arm around her. “Not friends” my foot.

“It’s nice to see they’re friends again,” Dad muses as we pass Luis and his friends.

“It is,” I agree, smiling at him. I know Dad thought of Luis as a son, and he’s missed him. Dad smiles back and wraps an arm around me as we walk into the church. Mom’s about to pull open the heavy oak doors when a hand reaches around her and pulls it open.

“After you ma’am,” a familiar voice says, pulling the door open.

“Thank you so much d-” Mom stops short when she is face to face with her worst nightmare in the form of a smirking boy in a leather jacket.

“Nathaniel,” my father says, disentangling himself from me.

“Hello Mr. Rojas,” Nate says.

“What are you doing here?”

“Oh you know,” Nate says casually, “I was walking by, saw a large crowd, and thought it would be a good opportunity to make some transactions.”

Both my parents stare at Nate as I try not to laugh. They can be a little gullible sometimes.

“Hey Nate,” Maeve says as she materializes next to us with Luis. His other friends seemed to have disappeared, but they’ve never struck me as people who’d want to go to a funeral.

“Hi, Maeve.” Nate is squinting at Maeve like she’s insane. Understandably. She’s smiling for once. Honestly I forgot she was able to do that. Also, the last time Maeve talked to Nate she yelled at him.

“Hello Mr. and Mrs. Rojas, it’s a pleasure to see you again.” Luis says to my parents, seemingly sensing the tension.

My parents both brighten as they turn to Luis. He shakes my father’s hand firmly and leans down to kiss my mother’s cheek. Nate and I roll our eyes at each other as Maeve glows so brightly she might put the sun out of business. All Luis is missing is a hat to tip.

“How are you doing son?”

“Well, Mr. Rojas, and you?”

“I’m good.”

Luis smiles and motions towards the door. “Are you going in?”

“We are. Are you Nathaniel?” My mother asks.

“What did you do Nate?” Maeve asks, rolling her eyes. She knows my mother’s danger voice as well as I do.

Mom tells Maeve what Nate said, nearly verbatim, and Maeve doesn’t even try to hide her laughter. “You’re so gullible Mom,” she says breezily, pushing past us to walk through the doors. She turns to us. “Well are you coming? Nate’s coming to the funeral too.”

“I am,” Nate confirms. My parents instantly relax.

There’s a glint in Maeve’s amber eyes as she delivers her parting shot: “his probation officer made him.”

To say the funeral was tense is an understatement. Nate ended up sitting with Maeve on his one side and me on his other. Maeve shook with silent laughter through the entire service and Nate glared at the wall. I breathe a sigh of relief when we exit the church, but the next problem appears in the form of a man in a crisp suit blocking our path as we try to make our way to the car.

“Mr. and Mrs. Rojas?” The man asks.

“Yes?” Mom says.

“I am Detective Wheeler with the Bayview Police. Would we be able to take your daughter Bronwyn to the police station to talk about the events of Simon’s death?”

I freeze and Maeve crashes into me. That doesn’t sound good.

“Why?” Mom asks.

“Just a customary check in, we’re doing it with all the students. Just to tie up loose ends.”

That really doesn’t sound good.

“Only if we can come with her,” Dad says.

The detective nods. “Of course. We aren’t holding her. But your younger daughter…” The detective trails off, looking at Maeve suspiciously.

She smiles a little. “I’ll go wait by the car. I need to tell Luis something anyway.”

“Go ahead honey, we’ll see you soon,” Mom says. Maeve gives a jaunty wave, steps around me, and walks away with a spring in her step. If I had to guess, her forthcoming interaction with Luis wouldn’t involve a lot of talking.

I follow the detective and my parents to the police station down the street, where we’re directed to what seems an awful lot like an interrogation room. The detective starts talking about Simon’s death, and I don’t listen because I’ve heard it too many times, but I zone back into the conversation when Detective Wheeler shows us a tablet with About That, Simon’s old gossip Tumblr, pulled up to a post that makes my heart stop. It’s about all of us at detention. About how Cooper used steroids (unsurprising), Nate sold drugs while being on probation (expected honestly) and how Addy cheated on her boyfriend Jake with a boy named… oh no. TF. TJ Forrester. Maeve’s ex. The one she’s been moping about for months. I’m not surprised, I knew this, but my parents didn’t. I glance at them to see their reaction. My mom’s eyes are trained on Addy’s piece of gossip, but my dad’s are on the next piece. The one I’ve been ignoring because it’s about me. More specifically, about how I cheated in my chemistry class last year.

All my blood rushes to my head as Detective Wheeler asks “well, Miss Rojas, what do you have to say about yourself?”

My mother stiffens. “My daughter has no comment. And we aren’t going to talk about this until we have a lawyer present, Detective.”

“Very well,” says Detective Wheeler resignedly. He seems to have expected this. “But let me tell you that your friends are all here, Bronwyn, and one of them will admit to your crime.”

Mom’s pushing me out of the room before I can ask what crime he might be talking about. Surely my “friends” have nothing they can say about my cheating. Mom and Dad don’t say anything as we walk the block back to our car. They look angry though. Mom’s expression softens when she sees Maeve, however.

“Hey!” Maeve says pleasantly. She’s sitting on the car’s hood, her phone in her hand. She holds up her free hand to block the setting sun from her face. It doesn’t work that well though, since the light streams onto her face, turning her hair coppery, her freckles golden, and her eyes into the most fiery they’ve ever looked. She looks like the picture of the warrior queen on the poster in the library, and I almost expect her to come flying at me with a sword. Which is stupid. Maeve is the least confrontational person I’ve ever met. Subtle jabs are more her style.

“Hi Maevey,” Mom says. Maeve stares at her. Mom hasn’t called her Maevey in years.

“What the hell happened at the station?” Maeve whispers to me as we climb into the back seat of the car.

“Let’s just say that this isn’t going to end well,” I whisper back through clenched teeth as Dad glares at me through the rearview mirror.

“Understatement,” my sister mumbles as she puts her earbuds into her ears, leaving me to face my parents’ wrath alone.

#when we didn't need to lie #next chapter #finally #izzielizzie's fics

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halycondaze · 4 years

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death, mourning, and femininity in adrestia

trigger warnings: death, superstitions, sexism, victorian germans i mean, adrestians being wild

to start: i have modeled (and borrowed heavily) on the victorian idea of death and the public nature of mourning on the victorian idea of these things. victorian culture has been described as death obsessed, which is where we get the macabre works of artists contemporary to the time. the fall of house usher, the bronte sister’s haunting works, these were influenced and indeed, perhaps spawned by this cultural obsession with death.

the ideal death in victorian culture, as described by mortician c*aitlin d*oughty, was to “[meet] eternity with eyes open, bravely facing god and judgement, thought provoking last words of wisdom poised on their lips,” and “was the hope and goal of every person.” 1 she then later goes on to explain that the process associated with “victorian mourning” would have really only been practiced in higher class / upper levels of society.

therefor, the same will be true throughout this headcanon. these are the truths for upper society, the nobles and, given fódlan’s strict social hierarchy, mainly available to those born into crest bearing families. however, much like fashion trends, what is considered standard by the upper echelon is often seen as aspirational by those below them. after all, appearance is the way the world perceives you, and if you can make the world perceive you as higher than your actual standing, you have the chance (the smallest, slightest chance) of achieving said place. respect can get you into a lot of places.

especially in death. death is that last chance to be seen as respected, especially as unclaimed bodies in victorian times were often used for medical study.... and, given the canonical banning of autopsies 2 done by rhea, this probably, paradoxically, becomes more of a worry. the lack of official ways to study a body and doctors desperately needing to understand why people are dying might turn to stealing unclaimed corpses. and even if there aren’t surreptitious autopsies, unclaimed bodies would have had their teeth pulled to make dentures, were the teeth in good shape.

if you’ve got even one family member, or a close friend, or simply a presence in a community, in adrestia, you’re buried and publicly mourned. it’s respect, it’s dignity, it’s about eternity. it is also, yes, a safety net, and, if someone is an unburied, unclaimed person, it’s a condemnation. and yes, this does happen more to immigrants, women, and the poor than it would to men, those born in fódlan, or the rich. unless you were truly despised by your own family, a rich man was getting buried.

unlike the victorians, however, embalming doesn’t really catch on in adrestia. the use of harsh, poisonous chemicals is seen as desecrating the body, which should be treated as gently as you would treat a living person. there are three expected processes for death in adrestia, and they depend on where the person dies: at home, out of the home in a civilian setting, or at war.

when someone dies at home, it is expected that their family members / those they live with will record the time of death, either generally using the position of the sun/moon, or if they own / are near a sundial, will use that instead. then, all mirrors are covered with sheets or turned down, to prevent the soul from getting lost on their way to the afterlife. a black wreath will be hung on the door so anyone coming to visit will know to knock softly. 1

afterwards, it is expected to keep the body in the home, as preparations for the wake and funeral begin. the woman of the house, or a close female friend, is expected to prepare the body. they will wrap a gentle cloth around the mouth and close the deceased’s eyes with cotton pads, so they have a reserved countenance at the wake. then they will be washed, again gently, from underneath a sheet, to preserve dignity. the cloths used are burned. 1 3

from there, the deceased will be dressed, usually in their burial shroud, which the deceased would have already had, or if they did not have one, then they would simply be buried in their sunday best. while the ladies of the house prepare the body, the man (or, a male family friend) would go and fetch a casket for the burial and wake. upon return, the body would be moved into the casket. from then on, no more preparations or changes are made to the body, except for the use of ice magic to slow decay. this is the only form of preservation allowed in adrestia.

after, letters are sent out, sealed with black wax and if the person is rich enough, on papers prepared for their death with small copies of a portrait of them. the wake lasts about five days, no longer than seven. one cannot show up at a funeral uninvited. that is considered beyond preposterous, and if you did not get an invitation, you could politely send a letter to the deceased’s family / caretakers to request to show up.

the funeral itself is very familiar to one who grew up in the american tradition - people in black (or muted colors, see below) with their heads held down, crying and talking about their virtues. they will have a procession to the graveyard, taking as convoluted a route as possible, to prevent the spirit from simply following the family home. afterwards, they return for refreshments, usually sweets, and people will talk for a few hours and return home.

for someone who died outside the household, the police must examine the body visually to make sure they did not die due to murder, but the rest plays out namely the same once they’re brought home. they’re washed and treated with care, and eventually brought to a graveyard.

someone who died in battle is buried differently. they rarely have a body, and if they do, then it will proceed as above. however, if they do not, it expected for their chosen burial shroud or sunday best to be buried in their place, and the expected mourning period is elongated by a month, due to the lack of the body to bury.

mourning (+femininity)

now, as with actual victorian mourning, there are a lot of rules. particularly for women. so let’s roll back and place the role of women in fódlan over all:

the expectation of noble women in fódlan, is to get married and produce children who bear crests. however, this also places them as the center of the household no matter where you go. rarely is one married for love, particularly in this higher society. however, adrestia has a very large performance aspect. and of course, this expected more of women than it is of men.

for instance, an adrestian widow is expected to be in full mourning for a year, but a widower is only expected to mourn six months. after all, a widower must find another wife to continue to produce heirs, and hasn’t the time to be in full mourning. after the full mourning period, it is expected for the widow/er to be in half mourning for a few months after, but again, men are given far less scrutiny. 1 3

full mourning entails: all black dress, thick black veils, and for men, a specific kind of mourning coat. as said, these are in all black, and sometimes it is expected to have a piece of cameo jewelry, (made with the deceased’s hair) or a handkerchief on the person at all time. it is considered uncouth to go out into society during full mourning. 3

half mourning entails: muted colors (grey, lilac, navy) but in the typical, day to day style. the silhouette tends to change once a decade. one may socialize as expected of your station, but you are expected to never show intense happiness or joy if you are in half mourning. 3

servants of the household where a death occurred are expected to wear a black band around their arm until the grieving family is out of mourning. 3

there are, of course, other rituals and superstitions. copied verbatim from the source below / taken from the first source, they are: 1 3

one must cover all mirrors in the house when someone has died, because the spirit will get lost. it is bad luck to meet a funeral procession head on. If you see one approaching, turn around. If this is unavoidable, hold on to a button until the funeral cortege passes. if you hear a clap of thunder following a burial it indicates that the soul of the departed has reached heaven. if you don’t hold your breath while going by a graveyard, you will not be buried after your death. if the deceased has lived a good life, flowers would bloom on his grave; but if he has been evil, only weeds would grow.

femininity, part two

as i alluded to above, the care taking of a corpse is coded feminine, in both victorian life, and adrestian culture. in fact, young girls are given “death kits” and expected to train to understand how to properly prepare a body, and understand why such things are done. 4 while no one seems to consider the effects of this kind of culture on the girls, it is a standard way of raising them that prepares them to be the face of a noble household.

this leads to a very interesting form of femininity. as women in fódlan are allowed to be warriors as well (though really, only in adrestia and the alliance) there is very little expectation for a woman to be squeamish about... anything. women caretake bodies and they are trained to kill, if they’re lucky enough to go to school. however, there is also always the expectation that a noble daughter - and a poor daughter - will marry a man, hopefully above her station, to elevate the family’s status and produce heirs with a crest. and many women - namely in the holy kingdom - will actually turn to becoming nuns to avoid this fate. and if they don’t, then they run away from home, or hole themselves up to be considered unmarriageable or tear at yellow wallpapers as they slowly grab for freedom.

to be raised in this culture is to become aware of mortality so early on, particularly for young girls, and to become either hardened to it, or more sensitive to death. the four girls we see from adrestia (edelgard, dorothea, bernadetta, and mercedes) reflect this well. they were all raised with this pressure of being the face of a future household, and have become almost perfectly poised to never be that face - the newest generation of adrestian girls is like this. they are girls ready to overthrow the system, from one point of view or another - girls who know how to kill and are ready to stop the system’s breath.

and even if they’re not, they still grew up finding tiny porcelain corpses in cakes, the unavoidable hand of death. 5

SOURCES:

1. we recreated a victorian funeral 2. screenshots from the fe/3h dlc 3. the rules and regulations of mourning in the victorian era 4. victorian death dolls 5. happy birthday, there’s a corpse in your cake!

#☆ﾟ*・ﾟand the ghost lights go out — ↳ meta.

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rcppled-a · 5 years

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meme (always accepting) | 40) things you said when you met my parents | @gothamoutllaw

What had initially been a polite invitation turned into one humongous flurry of events. There was a thing being held at a place and so and so might be there. It all sounded simple enough so he didn’t drown in nerves right then and there.

Sadly, the luxury of that was terribly short lived.

While he wasn’t the biggest fan of social events, Joel had taken everything in stride. He didn’t even fret about what he was going to wear until he told Lior about it. It being a simple thing that shouldn’t be a big deal. Except instead of a nonchalant response, the man had blown up on him in a second flat. Naturally, that confused the hell out of him, but his friend swerved into the driveway before he could get a solid explanation.

He answered the door to find Lior with his arms full of plastic wrapped suits and supplies. Not a word of greeting was said as he invited himself inside - declaring that it was his most important mission to dress him up in the best outfit. Which Joel had found funny - literally laughable - that out of all people, Lior would go up in arms about the whole thing.

It was only an event, said he - still with the thought that his friend was overreacting. To which Lior replied, ‘a very important event where all the hot shots and biggest of bigs show up, because it’s a gala for Christ's sake. And you have to look beyond your best if you’re going to meet Jason’s family.’; all in fucking verbatim. Yet the only word that actually stuck was the ‘f’ and ‘g’ word.

Family and gala.

The rate of which most blood drained from his face could have been record time. He nearly bit his tongue when he asked Lior for more details - even though he knew that it would only double the newborn stress. And once everything was aired out... well, that’s when he bought his ticket to anxiety-ville. While his brain flatlined for a chunk of time, Lior had swooped in and taken it upon himself to make Joel the definition of perfect. Appearance wise at least - there wasn’t much faith in the happenings of the inside. Although Joel did have the mind to take his meds during the makeover.

An hour passed in a blink of an eye, and then Joel found himself at the bottom step of the stairway. Still dazed and tangled in his own head about what he was going to attend, he hadn’t even noticed the result of Lior’s work. It wasn’t until he saw his own boyfriend did the thought breach the forefront of his mind. The way Jason looked at him brought some color back into his cheeks. Was there something on his face? He wondered - even going as far as to touch the corner of his own jaw without thought. The answer was found in a nearby mirror; something he had to be steered to since his limbs weren’t functioning correctly.

Truthfully, Lior had outdone himself. What, or rather who, he saw in the mirror stunned him enough to pause the ongoing panic harbored in his chest. The suit was beautiful; lapels trimmed in deep velvet, intricately designed pattern and in all black. Not to mention the way his hair had been styled looked, well, perfect. Honestly, he should’ve taken notes from Lior a long time ago.

Unfortunately, the relative calm shattered when it was time to drive. Lior parted like the proudest father in existence; features bright, a slew of best wishes, and ever an unshed tear or two. Then Joel found himself seated and strapped in the passenger seat for the trip over.

Time and time again, he told himself that things wouldn’t be as bad as his paranoia made it seem. He hadn’t been aware of how nerve stricken he was when it should’ve been obvious. His thumb kept tapping against the door hinge, free hand ran through his hair every other minute, and he was rigid from head to toe. Joel even began to think that the suit fit too snugly, because why else would he experience mild heart palpitations and be short of breath? Also, oh shit, was it possible for a thirty-five year old to have a heart attack? He was a healthy as a horse, but the stress of fucking up at the gala made him feel like his immune system dropped out of his ass right when they left home.

Joel was sure he talked Jason’s ear off at least four times for the duration of the drive. Sure, he felt bad for the slew of questions, but he didn’t want to walk in blind and act like a fool when he could avoid it. He didn’t actually start to breathe right until his hand left hand was intertwined with Jason’s. And, bless his boyfriend’s soul, the touch of reassurance and support actually helped ease his frayed mind.

The drive couldn’t have been long enough, because they arrived far too soon for his liking. At least the night air helped him cool off upon exiting the car. Nevermind the fact that it had been done by valet, or the fact that he almost tripped on his way out of the car. All that mattered was how close he was to Jason as they made their way to the venue. Except the realization of what he was about to experience hit him over he head like a goddamn brick the second the entrance appeared.

All around them were the rich and proud; a complete contrast to who he was as a person and how he currently felt. Still, there was a brilliant, yet somewhat off, smile stretched across his face as the two of them got into the thick of it. Not another minute and he was greeted with the first social test.

Would he like some champagne or even something stronger? A well dressed server had asked. It shouldn’t have been difficult to answer, but he had the thrill of stumbling over his words just to say ‘no thanks’. As the person left, he congratulated himself for achieving strike number one. Social drinking was a huge part of mingling with the masses, wasn’t it? Before he could finish that thought, an all too familiar voice caught his ear. Joel didn’t even need to look over to know who it was. Dick Grayson, jubilant and radiant as always. It hadn’t occurred to him how nice it was to see someone he had met prior. It also helped how friendly the man was; that much happiness was contagious, after all.

Just when a shred of comfort started to settle over him, everything was tilted sideways. Not literally - although he might have preferred tripping over the way he gaped at the one person that acted as an activation switch for an anxiety attack. Nothing could have prepared him for the appearance of Bruce goddamn Wayne. The guy really was like the night, because Joel did not pick up on his presence at all. He had to hear his own name from the man himself before he realized they had more company.

“Wow, uh, hi mister Wayne sir.” The words left his mouth like a bat out of hell, and he was mortified at how bad of a greeting that was. “I meant-” Joel forced himself to take a breath in before he accidentally choked on his own tongue. Thankfully, the smile stayed in place even though the tautness of his shoulders screamed unease. “I’m Joel, and it’s a, ah, pleasure to meet you.”

Don’t say sir, Joel. Do not-

“Sir.”

#✃ ✁ there's a truth in my soul that my mind doesn't remember ┈ answered ✃ ✁#* // you carry the heavens in your eyes & a home in your heart ⇢『jason jaeseong todd』#✃ ✁ sinking above water �� joel『dialogue』 ✃ ✁#`` / dick grayson #`` / bruce wayne #-- i am C R Y I N G

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hellyeahomeland · 6 years

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How about explaining all of the episode’s titles? Would you? Maybe one a day/week.

“Ok, here we go. This is only from memory and if any of this is wrong or contains typos please don’t @ me I didn’t edit!

Season one:

“Pilot: twas the pilot!

“Grace”: Brody prays at the end

“Clean Skin”: I think this is because Nazir lets Brody take a bath

“Semper I”: it’s a play on “Semper Fi” which is short for “Semper Fidelis” which is a Marine motto which means “always faithful”

“Blind Spot”: Carrie thinks Brody uses the blind spot in the safe house to slip Hamid the razor blade plus her growing attraction for him is kind of her blind spot!!

“The Good Soldier”: almost undoubtedly a reference to a novel about a love triangle between a woman and two soldiers

“The Weekend”: because it’s THE weekend, duh

“Achilles Heel”: Saul’s Achilles heel is that he always answers when work calls, Tom Walker’s is that he loves his wife and kids… Carrie’s is literally every aspect of her existence

“Crossfire”: Issa gets stuck in the crossfire

“Representative Brody”: it’s the episode where Brody decides to run for Congress lol

“The Vest”: Brody tries on a vest!

“Marine One”: *FORGET ABOUT BEFORE, THIS IS NOW. I SAW THEM! WHO? BRODY… THEY HUSTLED IT RIGHT THROUGH THE METAL DIRECTORS ALONG WITH THE VICE PRESIDENT. DO YOU EVEN REALIZE WHAT YOU’RE SAYING. YES. HE’S PLANNING ON TAKING THEM ALL OUT. THAT IS WHAT’S COMING. WE’VE BEEN HEARING CHATTER FOR DAYS NOW, MARINE ONE, MARINE TWO. IT’S NOT THE PRESIDENT’S HELICOPTER. IT’S ACTUAL MARINES. BRODY. AND WALKER. THEY ARE MARINE ONE AND MARINE TWO THEY’RE WORKING TOGETHER THEY MUST BE. **transcribed verbatim from memory

Season two:

“The Smile”: CARRIE FUCKING SMILES FOR FUCKING ONCE

“Beirut Is Back”: I could have sworn that there was a tourism campaign for the city of Beirut and this was the slogan but now I can find no evidence of that online

“State of Independence”: idk if this is a reference to the Donna Summers song or just a reference to Carrie being on her own again

“New Car Smell”: Brody gets a car wash to get rid of the odor of tobacco and murder

“Q&A”: Carrie asks some questions

“A Gettysburg Address”: play on words with Abraham Lincoln’s speech and the fact that Quinn & Co. literally go to a physical address in Gettysburg

“The Clearing”: I think this has multiple meanings: Carrie meets Brody in the clearing in the woods, Dana clears her conscience, Brody attempts to clear his

“I’ll Fly Away”: a reference to the 90s TV show that Henry Bromell (and, hi! Barbara Hall!) both wrote on but a more literal reference to Brody being whisked away on a helicopter at the end (lmao s2 is wild)

“Two Hats”: so many people wearing hats in this episode!!

“Broken Hearts”: lulz Walden’s breaks at the end

“In Memoriam”: because Nazir dies (fact: this episode was originally titled “The Motherfucker in the Turban” but was changed last minute, thank god)

“The Choice”: Carrie must choose between red and white wine JUST KIDDING IS ANYONE STILL READING THIS???

Season three:

“Tin Man Is Down”: someone says this during the weird Wizard of Oz op

“Uh… Oh… Aw”: phonetically it sounds like “fuck… you… saul” if you were drugged out on thorazine

“Tower of David”: Brody’s residence

“Game On”: because it’s when Carrie and Saul’s spy-came-in-from-the-cold operation is revealed

“The Yoga Play”: it’s Carrie’s very unoriginal name for an espionage scheme in which a lady with blonde hair attends a yoga class in her place

“Still Positive”: Carrie takes a 47th pregnancy test and is still positive #scarredforlife

“Gerontion”: ugh this is a poem I don’t know more go find Jacob Clifton’s TWoP recap

“A Red Wheelbarrow”: Carrie texts this to the Franklin man, it’s like spy code for “i’m the one answering this not some other dude”

“One Last Thing”: Saul to Brody: “you will do this one last thing” (literally though!)

“Good Night”: more spy code. I think it means “we’re fucked!”?

“Big Man in Tehran”: Brody becomes one of these when he denounces America for terrorism! (but only for show!)

“The Star”: probs dual meaning and allusion to the literal star Carrie draws and Damian Lewis’ stature on the show

Season four:

“The Drone Queen”: we stan one!

“Trylon and Perisphere”: a reference to the two structures at the World’s Fair and I can’t remember where I read this but I think it’s a reference to Quinn and the Landlady which is 100% horrific and offensive

“Shalwar Kameez”: this is the national dress of Pakistan but beyond that I got nothing

“Iron in the Fire”: Carrie says this about Aayan

“About a Boy”: think this is not a reference to the book/film but rather just to Carrie trying to figure out Aayan’s dealio

“From A to B and Back Again”: possibly a reference to the circular nature of the episode? They go from thinking they’ve got Haqqani to being back at square one by episode’s end

“Redux”: Carrie hallucinates Brody

“Halfway to a Donut”: Duck says this about some pastry. Like 4.06, they think they’ve got Saul and end up back to zero (donut)

“There’s Something Else Going On”: well there was!!

“13 Hours in Islamabad”: reference to the Benghazi attacks, which the episode basically lifts from directly and which also lasted ~13 hours

“Krieg Nicht Lieb”: Carrie meets a German spy woman! This means “war not love” (not perfectly translated), so an ironic take on “love not war”

“Long Time Coming”: Carrie and Quinn finally have sex!!!!!!! (just seeing if anyone is still reading this)

Season five:

“Separation Anxiety”: I think this a meta reference to the time jump and also to Carrie’s anxieties about being out of the CIA but back in that world

“The Tradition of Hospitality”: I believe this is a reference to Carrie + Otto being guests at the UN refugee camp and how… un-hospitably that trip ends

“Super Powers”: Carrie believes she has super powers when she’s off her meds

“Why Is This Night Different”: these words at said at Passover seder, which starts out the episode

“Better Call Saul”: horrifically embarrassing title that is a reference to Carrie calling Saul as well as the Breaking Bad spinoff starring Bob Odenkirk

“Parabiosis”: I honestly don’t know. It’s a scientific term and I haven’t rewatched those middle season five episodes since they aired and also don’t care to!

“Oriole”: this was Carrie’s code name with one of her assets in Iraq

“All About Allison”: this episode centers on our Lord and Savior Allison Carr, Queen of Online Handbag Shopping!

“The Litvinov Ruse”: I think this describes the trick they played on Allison thinking she was blown when she wasn’t

“New Normal”: some military or CIA person says this about ISIS or Russia and Quinn being gassed

“Our Man in Damascus”: this is the title of a book about a man who infiltrates a foreign government at the highest levels so I’m pretty sure it’s a reference to Allison

“A False Glimmer”: lifted straight from Quinn’s letter!

Season six:

“Fair Game”: was surely sad by Keane or Dar or Saul or someone else about something (sorry, haven’t rewatched these episodes either)

“The Man in the Basement”: it’s where Quinn threw that mug at Carrie

“The Covenant”: believe this is a reference to the scene with Saul and his sister and Palestine/Israel

“A Flash of Light”: Etai says* this to Saul: “And the question I keep asking myself is this-- should we [the Jewish people] pack up and leave before it's too late? All eight million of us? Should we go back to the ghettos of Europe and Asia and wait for the next pogrom? Or just pray it doesn't happen here first, in a flash of light?” *not recited from memory

“Casus Belli”: apparently this was the actual name of meat face?? The phrase actually means a justification for war, so...

“The Return”: isn’t the episode where Javadi comes back?

“Imminent Risk”: Carrie is this to Franny and Quinn is this to.... himself?

“alt.truth”: I think this was someone’s sock puppet handle or website name or something? Idk it was about online trolls I think

“Sock Puppets”: Max finds ‘em!

“The Flag House”: the house where meat face lives has a flag out front

“R is for Romeo”: there was an R on the white board at the flag house which I think meant eastern time?? It was spy code I can’t remember!!

“America First”: term that used to mean non-interventionist policy but has been today co-opted by the American right to mean that we gotta put America ahead of all other interests (moral, humane, rational, etc.) because... AMERICA!!! Typically used to justify fascist policies

Season seven:

“Enemy of the State”: Carrie’s power of bun have put her in the crosshairs (is anyone still reading this?)

“Rebel Rebel”: I remember this being a play on words and it’s a verb, not a noun. Said by those gun crazies with Brett O’Keefe.

“Standoff”: Saul and O’Keefe

“Like Bad at Things”: definition for “incompetent.” Said by Carl, who deserves a Best Supporting Actor Emmy

“Active Measures”: term for actions taken by Russia to undermine America

“Species Jump”: another science term to describe the jumping of a pathogen from one host to another... I’m thinking this might be Carrie understanding who Dante really was but it’s a Chip Johannessen title so anything is possible

“Andante”: it’s how Carrie ends the episode! (that is a joke and it is 100% another meaning for the title but it also refers to a moderately slow tempo which is basically this episode’s structure until, y’know, the ending!)

“Lies, Amplifiers, Fucking Twitter”: it’s one half of a haiku Carrie is writing

“Useful Idiot”: see: picture of Carrie in a PowerPoint presentation

“Clarity”: Carrie gets it (kinda)

“All In”: what Carrie must convince Saul she is for the 650th time because Saul remains trash

“Paean to the People”: a reference to Keane’s speech

#painterx92 #ask #hyh ask #by: sara #OH MY GOD I CAN'T BELIEVE I WROTE ALL THAT #i put it under a cut for kindness

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pass-the-bechdel · 6 years

Text

Marvel Cinematic Universe: The Avengers (2012)

Does it pass the Bechdel Test?

No.

How many female characters (with names and lines) are there?

Three (23.07% of cast).

How many male characters (with names and lines) are there?

Ten.

Positive Content Rating:

Three.

General Episode Quality:

It’s solid. Unpopular opinion? I don’t think it’s half as good as people made it out to be, back when it first hit cinemas and everyone was swooning. It’s solid, but that’s the best I’ve got for it.

MORE INFO (and potential spoilers) UNDER THE CUT:

Passing the Bechdel:

...

Female characters:

Maria Hill.

Natasha Romanov.

Pepper Potts.

Male characters:

Nick Fury.

Phil Coulson.

Erik Selvig.

Clint Barton.

Loki.

Bruce Banner.

Steve Rogers.

Tony Stark.

JARVIS.

Thor.

OTHER NOTES:

‘free from freedom’ is such a wanky piece of writing, man. It’s absolute nonsense, but it sounds vaguely profound if you don’t think about it at all. I thought about it. It’s idiotic.

The very first thing we see of Black Widow in this movie is her being hit in the face, wearing a slinky little dress, tied to a chair being interrogated by a bunch of men. We’re supposed to indulge this excuse for hurting and objectifying a woman and then write it off as ‘empowering’ because she beats the Hell outta the dudes a couple of minutes later. That’s not a game I’m interested in playing. This is garbage.

The classical music over the beginnings of the Stuttgart attack is great.

All those German folks so confused by this Loki dude speaking English at them. What a tool.

I’m not sure I’ve ever heard ‘not today’ used as an effective badass declaration. It’s ALWAYS cheesy. Make it stop.

“There’s only one God, ma’am, and I’m pretty sure he doesn’t dress like that.” I don’t really like this line for Steve; he just doesn’t seem like the kind of guy who would play the ‘one true God’ card, and there was nothing in his origin story which implied that he’s particularly attached to religion at all; plus, he already read the brief on Thor, he knows this is literally the old Norse deity, there’s no question of whether or not they’re dealing with a God here. To argue the point (because he’s not MY God!) is meaningless in context, and feels like a weak attempt to correlate (Christian) faith with being ‘old-fashioned’, like OF COURSE Steve would defend the idea of the ‘one true God’, he’s from the past, not a cool enlightened atheist/agnostic modern man like the rest of us, right?

Thor and Loki are using such archaic phrasing, when Tony makes his ‘Shakespeare in the Park’ joke, it’s...more an observation than a quip. The Asgardians were not half as stuffy in Thor. It makes it seem like someone didn’t bother to see that movie first before writing their version of the characters.

Thor has to fight with the others when he shows up. He’s just gotta.

Gotta give a nod to Mark Ruffalo’s work here; I feel like I can see the clear comparison between his version of the character and Edward Norton’s in The Incredible Hulk, but at the same time there’s no sense of this being a Norton’s-Banner impression. Ruffalo is doing a sweet job of making the character his own without totally overhauling the template Norton laid down, and I dig it.

Oh, here we are. Loki calls Black Widow a ‘mewling quim’, which is just a fancy way of calling her a whiny cunt. Your gendered slur is still a gendered slur, movie.

I know they’re playing the idea that the sceptre is causing the antagonism between the characters, but fuck, it’s tedious. It just feels like they’re all contrived petty versions of themselves, being shitty because it’s ~dramatic~ for them to not get along.

I didn’t see this movie until months after it was released, and people were raving about how crushed they were by the major character death in the film but they were doing a pretty good job of not spoiling it; good enough that for a moment, I really thought I’d get to enjoy the surprise/horror for myself. You know who spoiled it for me? In a tweet, no less? It was the 44th President of the United States. Thanks, Obama.

This guy is the MVP of this film:

You can chalk “Son, just don’t,” up on the list of Things Steve Rogers Would Not Say. Just because he’s technically in his nineties doesn’t mean he isn’t still in his twenties in his mind: I don’t buy that he’d go for a blithely patriarchal term like ‘son’, it seems like another poorly-considered attempt to make him sound old-fashioned. Juxtapose that with ‘just don’t’, which is very modern vernacular. It might seem clever to combine the two as a meta-expression of Steve belonging to two different times now, but in practical application it just sounds out-of-character, and there’s nothing clever about that.

I know I said after the last movie that I love it when someone gets hit and flies off-screen in an exaggerated fashion, but Hulk punching Thor off-screen after they finish working together to take down the big beastie is an exception, because there’s no reason for Hulk to decide to hit Thor in the first place, it’s just a gag for the sake of a gag. I can’t believe they messed up such a simple pleasure.

I will forgive it, in return for Hulk smashing Loki all over the place. That was funny.

Back when this movie came out, before I saw it, I had people tell me - straight-faced, totally sincere - that it was one of the best movies they had ever seen. The internet was on fire with Avengers love. The film was rated in the IMDb Top 20. Admittedly, that all sets a pretty impossible standard for a movie to meet, and being at least a little disappointed in the result is probably a given. I was not particularly invested either way (I didn’t fall down the Marvel rabbit hole until later), so I didn’t allow myself to go in to my first viewing with such lofty expectations to be crushed, just the general assumption that this was gonna be good, it had to be good, at minimum. And it was that; it’s a good film. It’s entertaining. The plot makes basic essential sense. It’s easy to follow. There are some nice visuals, and most of the special effects are relatively clean, which can be a significant difficulty for big-budget extravaganzas that sometimes/often try to get way too much spectacle bang for their buck, so, a nice win. All in all, The Avengers is not a bad film. Sure is a bland one, though.

I know, I know, getting all these big-name characters from previous films together in one movie was a serious task and it’s hard to write a well-balanced script for so many leads, blah blah. Let’s put that whole equivocation to bed right now, because I honestly don’t think that balancing the big-name cast was the problem. All of the characters had something to do, no one felt like a random extra, I could quibble about certain places where I really wish things had been plumped up a bit (pretty much everywhere - the film is extremely low on meaningful character beats), but ultimately the characters are fairly evenly presented. What makes this movie bland to me is 1) the way that the personalities of the characters deviate from that established in their previous films, and 2) the simplicity of the story they inhabit.

We’ll cover the Avengers themselves first: the good news is, Tony Stark is still Tony Stark. His personality is intact. Bruce Banner is, as noted, not exactly the Bruce Banner we met back in The Incredible Hulk, but that’s both a given and a good thing - the casting change is an improvement. Hawkeye was barely in the MCU previously, so we don’t really have enough to compare him against in order to make a judgment. Black Widow, however, is a bit of a mess; Joss Whedon’s special brand of misogyny is on display from moment one, as noted above (he LOVES writing women being brutalised because ‘how would we know/believe that they’re strong if we don’t get to see them overcoming mistreatment?’ - he tends not to feel the need to ‘prove’ his male characters’ strengths in this way), and Natasha’s personal story for the movie continues in a distinctly gendered vein: as is common for female characters being written by shitty dudes, her arc revolves predominantly around a man (Hawkeye), and she is ‘emotionally compromised’ by her attachment to him. She also zones out in the middle of an action scene and winds up in a corner shaking and traumatised (very out-of-character for a super spysassin), and particular emphasis is placed on all the bad things she’s done in the past and how she should feel bad about it, though no one does more than shrug their shoulders about Clint or Fury or any of the other SHIELD agents who are acknowledged as having dark and dirty pasts. Why is Natasha the one who is singled out to have her morality judged while her ‘arc’ focuses on her inconvenient emotional engagement? You know why. There’s no reason why this particular tack had to be taken in bringing her backstory into the film, and as a result of it we spend little time with Black Widow displaying the kind of cool professionalism and self-assurance she had in Iron Man 2. The inclusion of that vulnerability and backstory doesn’t make her feel more rounded or complicated because it is deconstructing the power and mastery of the character; rather than building upon the foundation set in her previous film visit, we’re questioning the stability of that foundation and seeing if we can get a few pieces of the structure to rattle loose.

A big part of the trouble for Thor is that he gets saddled with that poxy Ye Olde Cliche dialogue, and there are few things worse for achieving character consistency than changing the way that they talk: no matter how hard the actor tries to play the character the same, they can’t compensate for the fact that the very structure of their sentences has been remodeled. They can improvise rephrasing the lines and/or argue the point if they want, but it’s hard to challenge every line, and if the director (who, oh look, is also the writer) insists you follow the script verbatim, there’s not a lot you can do with that. Poor Captain America suffers the same fate with the overt attempts to make him sound ‘old-fashioned’ by having him utter words and phrases that he never used in his origin movie. What’s worse is, this stilted dialogue is pretty much the sum total of the film’s acknowledgment of the fact that, oh yeah, Steve just recently woke up from the ice to find that seventy years has passed and nearly everyone and everything he used to know is gone. He has an exchange with Fury in his first scene, about ‘getting back in the world’, but there’s zero follow-up on how he’s handling it, what difficulties there might be, or even just how Steve is feeling about all of this on a basic emotional level. And yes, I am aware that there’s a deleted montage of Steve going about his day being isolated and out-of-touch, and it’s a travesty that they cut it because that’s essential character content, but it’s also a total bare minimum which has zero follow-up. Steve Rogers spends the whole film just being...there, speaking lines that don’t suit him or reflect the personality we just saw in The First Avenger, and not even in an understandable character-development ‘throwing myself into my work to hide from the pain’ kind of way. He’s kinda blandly self-righteous and all-business no-pleasure in exactly the way he was NOT in his origin movie; my impression is that Whedon doesn’t care for the character and wrote him off as the traditional patriotic cliche one might have expected him to be instead of the nuanced character that he actually is. As with Thor and Loki, it feels as if Whedon didn’t bother to watch the previous movies first in order to get a sense of the established characters.

Speaking of Loki: if there’s one character who really, REALLY suffered a personality change in this script, it’s him. None of what made Loki the highlight of Thor is in evidence here; where that character was a cunning plotter full to overflowing with complex and contradictory feelings for his family and driven to action by that same emotional cascade, this Loki...wants to rule the Earth. Because. He’s, like, crazy, the other characters all say so, even Thor - the only one who actually knows Loki and is fit to assess his mental state - says that his ‘mind is far astray’ (what Thor thinks of that, whether he’s surprised or concerned, whether he feels like he understands why this has happened to Loki or not, is unclear, because, I dunno, Thor having feelings is as inconvenient to the story as Steve having feelings - as Loki snarls derisively about ‘sentiment’, we must remember that being emotionally compromised is dumb and only for women? Hmm). Loki is just a placeholder villain in this film, driven to action by nothing in particular, it’s just a business arrangement with a mysterious third party that coincidentally happens to involve Earth. Loki prattles and hollers a lot about how ruling is his right and people want to be ruled and blah despot blah, and it’s both supremely uninspired, and not true to the character we met in Thor at all - the Loki we know was not obsessed with ruling, his motivations were all about his family standing and the things he was denied within those relationships and their implications. I remember fandom, back when this movie came out, scrambling with various headcanons about Loki losing his mind in the void or being brainwashed, ad nauseum, because no one really seemed to feel like they were watching a logical progression of the same character at all.

Now, one of the main ways that the lack of character consistency contributes to narrative blandness is that it disrupts narrative immersion - we’re re-negotiating the way that we engage with the characters, and that distracts from engaging with the story itself. At worst, we may even find ourselves cynical about every decision that a character makes (whether it’s in-character or not), because we’re too aware of the man behind the curtain to buy the act. There are definite shades of that in this film, but the worst of it comes from the whole team-antagonism schtick that is vaguely blamed on ‘Loki’s manipulations’ and the sceptre. The thing is, this all requires the characters to behave out-of-character, and since they mostly already are out-of-character due to bad writing, the exacerbation of that by creating artificial conflict feels like more bad writing, not actual plot. Having the characters initially get along poorly before triumphantly uniting to win the day is such an overused device, it’s easy to construe the conflict as arbitrary, and as it turns out...it is. Loki/the sceptre causing the Avengers to argue doesn’t actually impact the narrative in any meaningful way, since they don’t start a fight or fracture over it, it doesn’t slow down Tony’s efforts to learn what Fury is really up to, nor does it prevent Steve from investigating the same thing in person. Them conflicting with Fury and questioning their decision to work with SHIELD, etc, is a normal thing to have an argument about, no magic-mind-stick required; the only mileage the movie really gets out of the forced-conflict ploy is that Steve and Tony keep pissing on each other, which is extremely OOC for nice-guy Steve and WOULD throw up a big red flag for mental manipulations if the movie weren’t already misrepresenting him as an insufferable stick in the mud anyway, and even for Tony it feels off - he’s generally a jerk as a rule, but he doesn’t pick unprovoked fights - but again, when the movie is already so left-of-centre on so many characters everyone feels off, so it’s easy to assume the characters are just falling victim to contrived drama, and not something in the actual story. As noted, it doesn’t end up mattering where the conflict comes from anyway; the bad news is, it takes until the halfway point of the Goddamn movie before the characters get their prescribed ‘rough patch’ out of the way. The fact that they were just being really annoying for no real reason and without narrative consequence kinda steps on the idea of it being ‘triumphant’ when they all come together at the end to fight Loki, because there was zero reason for the audience to ever legitimately doubt that it would happen, not even in a begrudging-putting-this-genuine-disagreement-aside-so-that-we-can-save-the-world kind of way. It’s just dead air with no weight behind it, and with characters reduced to such cliche versions of themselves that it’s hard to muster the will to care.

AND SO, we have a movie which, as previously noted, is awfully damn simplistic. That’s not a terrible thing, in and of itself - it’s all about what you do with an idea, and I would posit that a more complicated plot wouldn’t be a great idea here since there are so many primary moving parts in the form of characters to justify. But, the aforementioned griping about the skewy characterisation makes this film a bad candidate for character-over-plot, and if the shenanigans are falling flat, that’s when simplistic plotting becomes a problem. It goes like this: Loki shows up and steals the magic cube (action ensues). The avengers assemble to catch Loki (action ensues). The characters argue on a helicarrier until Loki’s goons show up to wreck shit (action ensues). Loki escapes and goes to New York to use the magic cube to portal an alien army to Earth. Action ensues until the portal is closed and Loki is defeated. The end. I’m not complaining about the action - it’s a standard facet of the genre, and most of it is entertaining enough (though the unnecessary Thor/Iron Man fight I coulda done without, and the battle of New York runs a bit long) - but the plot itself is pretty point-A-to-B-to-C without much in the way of surprises, and like I said, that’s fine so long as you’re delivering in another arena, i.e. STRONG CHARACTER NARRATIVES. And character is sooo far from being this film’s strong suit. The result? Is not very compelling.

It tends to wind up that, by the time I get to the end of explaining why I think a thing didn’t work (and this is...the abridged version), it maybe seems ridiculous that I’m also saying ‘this thing isn’t that bad’. The truth is, there’s nothing that I think this movie does impressively well, and there are a lot of pretty major things that I think were poorly handled. BUT, I still meant what I said: it’s entertaining. It makes at least basic sense, and flows easily enough. And while I have serious issues with a lot of the characterisation and feel that - though balanced(ish) in handling - the plot failed to take real advantage of any of the character resources at its disposal (except maybe Tony), the actors still brought the goods to the table, and those whom I enjoyed in their previous films (I mean you, Chris Evans) didn’t disappoint, even though the material they were handling did. It’s a solid film, it’s good fun, I don’t regret watching it, and while I am irritated by various aspects, I don’t feel the need to keep ranting about them. And hey; Mark Ruffalo is really very wonderful. They’ve got that going for them.

#The Avengers #MCU #Marvel Cinematic Universe #Bechdel Test #female representation #Avengers

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enaasteria · 7 years

Text

Nightmare // Sehun

Mortal enemies accidentally showing up in matching costumes every fucking year.

// Halloween Prompt #1 // Slightly suggestive but not really

“You’re happier than usual,” Yumi shouts from behind her sheer ninja mask and over the fervent music playing in the club. A bloodthirsty vampire wearing a ragged, sleeveless dress shirt dances alongside her. He’s practically thirsting for something else as his plastic fangs glide against her neck with strong, veined arms curving around her waist. She welcomes his advances with her hand entwining into his bed of unruly hair. They’re in their own little world and my benevolence is in parallel to theirs. My body jumps and sways to the entrancing beats as I answer her with words conveying how happy I truly feel. “I am!” I exclaim. The cranberry vodka she shared with me earlier aids in fueling the adrenaline as the addictive drink trickles through my system.

She raises her brows at me, “Does it have to do with Sehun?”

“This time---yes, yes it does.”

My elation widens and she catches on quickly. I shrug my shoulders and inwardly smile, almost manically laughing to myself.

The reason being among the multitude of costumed individuals, many chose It as their outfit this year. Their faces are painted a cold white and their lips are stained red with crimson lines leading up through their eyes. Some pay tribute to the original 1990’s cult design with a frilled collar and puffed sleeves. Others chose a more seductive approach; they’re barely clothed and or wearing short dresses and ripped white stockings leaving little to the imagination.

But whereas the titular character defines the epitome of nightmares and bad dreams, the vindictive clowns surrounding me at present are my ultimate blessings. As Yumi stated, they’re why I can’t stop smiling and how I’m possibly the happiest person in the club. It’s because my outfit doesn’t mimic theirs---which also means my chosen attire won’t match Sehun’s.

He and I have an odd relationship. And it’s not because I like him or fawn after him. I won’t even lie about how I find him terribly easy on the eyes but my interactions with him have been less than pleasant (and that’s putting it mildly).

We’re not friends. At least from the way things have progressed between us, I don’t believe we’re friends. It seems more or less like his goal in life is being the single reason why my pathetic soul leaves my body once he appears in front of me at a Halloween party.

We somehow always manage matching costumes.

It’s never by my choice. It just happens as if the menacing man is imbued with nefarious black magic to turn up in an outfit accenting mine.

It’s a curse.

It’s a malediction of the acutest kind and I hate admitting how he consistently complements my costume for the better whether I like it or not.

If I showed up as the 10th Doctor from Doctor Who, he’ll come in as TARDIS. If I’m Watson, then he’s Sherlock. Mario, Yoshi. If I’m Pikachu, then he’s the damn poké ball. It doesn’t matter if I go with a female outfit, male outfit, or if I dress up as the obscurest thing in the world---he somehow, in some evil warlock kind of way, knows exactly what I’ll be and wears an accompanying costume.

It’s a peculiarity I don’t understand. Even now, I can picture Sehun’s smug grin every time he arrives wearing something similar to my own. His half-moon eyes, the curl of his mouth, and his tongue flushing against his upper lip are engrained into my brain like a permanent burning scar.

I could never figure out how he copied me or why he did it in the first place. It seemed to bother me more so than it ever did for him---as if he liked or wanted it; as if my unraveled state was his ultimate pleasure and joy.

What I once thought was a rare coincidence now has me wondering if Sehun is doing this to purposely mess with me---or if in actuality it’s the universe and fate being the ones up to no good.

Either way, I made a change this year to defy all odds. I did something I never did before to change my circumstances for the better---

I asked him.

Channeling my true, intended Halloween theme as Kingsman: The Secret Service, I tried my hand at outsmarting the deviant boy at his own game. He was wary at the start but I told him if we were going to match regardless, we might as well tell each other what we’re going to be so we can have the best costume possible.

I didn’t think he would agree. I thought he was going to argue with me and say what I’m doing would subtract the element of surprise for him (a part of me honestly believes he revels in my sad misery) but he told me what I wanted to hear. He relayed his plans and I remember his answer verbatim.

‘I’m going as It this year.’

And he smirked.

He exhaled an amused short breath and that mischievous grin was the last thing I remember prancing along the sharp contours of his prim face.

I didn’t think much of his reaction then and I don’t think much of it now as I’m dressed in a high collar black sleeveless shirt under a gray double-breasted wool suit jacket and pants.

One word echoes throughout my mind as I move to the playing song and it’s the word It. Like the majority of the women and men in this club, Sehun will be just like them. He will match them and be dressed as the monstrous clown. The very thought causes my merriment to stretch further up to my pink cheeks.

Yumi shakes her head at my ridiculous behavior, clearly aware of my predicament with the problematic, aforementioned male. Although, I half blame her for my present issues because she was the one who introduced me to him all those years ago. It began with his name and his picture as if she tried to set me up with him. Little did she know Sehun and I would end up as a match in an entirely different manner.

She’s about to say something but it’s cut short as the nameless vampire nibbles on her neck. She falls into his trance and leans into his toned frame as they move in sync to the rhythm beating between their bodies.

I raise my brows at her before pulling on the high collar fabric around my neck, “Too hot.”

She laughs, completely under the vampire’s spell, “Isn’t he?” and he kisses down even harder on her flesh from hearing her reply. I don’t mull on whether she intentionally misconstrued my sentiments or not but motion to the upstairs balcony to let her know I’m going to drop off my suit jacket and get something to drink.

The cool air brushes over the cuff of my bare shoulders as I grab a water from the bartender. I lean over the balcony railing with cup in hand, surveying the eclectic number of inebriated individuals. I perch my chin on a bent wrist and my fingers tap along my cheek to the addictive beats of EDM while I scan over every person in the club.

“Looking for someone in particular?”

My ears barely make out his signature silvery tone and a smile stretches from one end of my face to the other. I straighten and turn to my left, “No, just a clo---” but I’m interrupted as I face Sehun and the happiness I once felt immediately dissipates as I take in Sehun’s presence.

He’s dressed immaculately well and that is where the very problem stems from. My brows furrow into a kneaded knot. It’s full of horror and confusion over why he’s not the frightening clown he said he would be.

There’s no white paint on his face. There’s no red nose or furry orange wig. There’s nothing clownish about his costume because he’s the dapper, glasses wearing, tailored gray suit Eggsy to my Roxy costume and I instantly want to fall to my knees and cry from dejection.

I stutter, “H---How---”

“How what?”

“How do you do it every year? How does this keep happening?”

“Does it matter how I do it?” There’s that vexing smirk again. He’s enjoying this. He’s lapping up this exchange as if I’m the light to his day.

My chest rises up and down with each breath but I’m noticing every time I breathe, Sehun inches closer and closer. He decreases our space but it’s different this year. He’s much more forward with his approaches and it’s causing a bewilderment I can’t quite grasp.

He finally stops in footing and cranes his neck, reading me far better than I can ever understand him. “Does it bother you that much when we’re in matching costumes?”

“Yes.”

“Why?” Sehun’s grin is the work of demons as his gaze is transfixed on me with no chance of any spell breaking its connection.

“Because you said It.”

“And?”

I’m internally dying at this point. Perhaps it’s from anger or maybe it’s from my hatred of how irritatingly attractive he still looks in the suit with dyed blond hair (but annoyed nevertheless by how he managed to fool me again). “You said It, Sehun. You told me---letter for letter and I will quote you on October 1 at 6:14 PM, you said you were going to dress up as It this year. This is not It.”

“Who says I’m not?” he slyly refutes and I want to wipe away how his smile is messing with my every patience.

“You’re clearly not It. There’s no way this is a Pennywise costume.”

��Did I say I was going to be Pennywise this year?” Sehun pushes up his gold rimmed glasses before drawing his index under my chin. I don’t shy away from his touch and he takes it as an affirmation to lean down, angling his grand frame to mine. His thumb grazes over my bottom lip as his irises are completely narrowed into me. His face is a breath from my own and I listen to his vindictive words full of deadly magic and lore. “I said I would be It and that is exactly who I am—

I’m your worst nightmare, babe.”

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gayveyjacobs · 7 years

Text

Something Magical

A birthday fic for the sweetest, loveliest person ever, @littlefettuccinealfredo

I hope you have the best gosh darn birthday, ilu, enjoy the fic and your birthday and your NEWLY-ACQUIRED VOTING RIGHTS!

And here’s the AO3 link

Jack Kelly is an artist. He uses paints and makes sketches and he does these things well. Unfortunately for him, his best friend happens to be an asshat named Racetrack who enjoys making the most ridiculous bets and wagers and, since they’re both barely making ends meet, it was almost always their prides on the line. The last bet had been won by Jack and had resulted in Race having to borrow an outlandishly bright jester’s costume from their school’s drama department, and wear it for the rest of the day while feigning complete unawareness about how silly he looked. After that, Race got his revenge when Jack hadn’t managed to down a whole bottle of ketchup in 20 seconds which was why Jack was out here on the street with some cards, a top hat, some gloves, and a cape.

Since Race is dating Spot, and Spot and Jack practically grew up together, Race managed to get hold of some embarrassing information about Jack’s childhood, which was the basis for this particular wager’s penalty. Unfortunately for Jack, Spot knew about his pre-teen phase where he was obsessed with learning to do magic tricks, thinking that it would do well in impressing acquaintances and potential love interests. Needless to say, Spot managed to talk him out of embarrassing himself completely in high school by telling him that it was a terrible idea. It was especially good advice, since some of Jack’s magic tricks required doves or birds of some sort, which, in hindsight, would probably be a bad idea to have brought to class. Still, there wasn’t much to be said about how well people would have reacted to a goofy thirteen-year-old whose standard introduction would be “pick a card, any card,” while showing up at school with a top hat and white gloves. Fortunately for Jack’s social reputation, he’d taken Spot’s advice and dropped the Mysterious Magician persona he had planned on taking on, and a few years down the road, he came to realise that he probably owed Spot big-time for that.

But that help came at the cost of his pride now, years later, as Jack stands on a sidewalk in New York during winter, dressed ridiculously in the tackiest magician’s outfit ever, featuring a top hat and a matching cape, both with bright glittery stars on them. The penalty that Race had set had been, verbatim, “You’re gonna have to wear your magician stuff – which I know you have – and keep doing street magic until people give you like, 20 dollars.” Race did not account for the fact that Jack’s Junior Magician Costume would have been way too small for him at this point, and while his top hat still fits, the same couldn’t exactly be said about the cape. If worn correctly and tied around his neck, the cape would only reach a little bit past his waist. So instead, Jack had safety pinned the cape to the shoulders of his black vest (worn over a white shirt, since he is a professional), and it managed to at least go past his… derriere.

By this point, Jack hasn’t been out in the streets for too long, and he’s managed to accumulate seven dollars. He managed to get $3 from the trick where he had an audience member sign a card, placed it in his deck for shuffling, and then, literally spat out the signed card. Usually, families would be much more willing to stop, since kids were easily baffled by these things and then their parents would be more inclined to leave him a dollar or two, to look generous in front of their kids. It’s not the worst thing he’s done because of some bet, he thinks, except that it’s pretty cold, and he’s gotten more than a few condescending looks from some college students who seem to be around his age.

Right now, more than ever, Jack Kelly really, really regrets how silly he must look, because a few feet away, there’s a tall, dark haired young man who should be about his age, dressed in a dark blue coat and he’s gorgeous. Ordinarily, he’d be pretty pleased to spot someone this good-looking, but he can’t exactly go up to the man with any of his usual confidence while he’s dressed like a bad excuse for a magician. Instead, he tries to avoid being spotted by the man – nearly impossible, given his sparkly accessories – and tries to show off his tricks to some other passers-by. It’s just his luck that everyone but the man just ignores him, and Jack has to try really hard not to be any more embarrassing than he already looks when the man approaches him. But then, Jack thinks to himself, “go big or go home.”

Since he’s already doing street magic, he figures he might as well jump on the rare occasion that a person this attractive is showing interest in him. Making eye contact with the stranger, who seems a little shy, Jack calls the man over with a confident grin. “D’ya wanna see somethin’ magical?”

A little reluctantly, the man steps towards Jack and says ‘sure’, giving him a polite smile. With a bit of flair, Jack makes a rose appear out of thin air and presents it to the man. As he offers it to the man, bowing slightly, he says “I figured it’d be a waste if I didn’t get flowers for the most attractive man I’ve seen all day.”

The man’s face goes pretty red at that, and he lets out a small laugh. Accepting the rose, he raises an eyebrow and says, “That’s flattering, but that was a pretty obvious trick. I appreciate the rose, though.”

“Skeptical, ain’t ya?” Jack asks. “What’s ya name?”

“David…well, Davey.”

“Alright, ‘David well Davey’, I’m sure one of my tricks’ll impress ya.”

“I doubt it,” Davey says, just a little bit smugly, “but you’re free to try.”

For some reason, Davey is actually pretty good at discerning the exact the secret behind each of his tricks. When Jack cuts a dollar note straight down the middle and reveals that the note is perfectly fine, Davey watches with only mild interest and his arms crossed before quickly revealing the secret behind how it’s done. Jack is frustrated, impressed and very interested in Davey at this point. After that, Jack borrows a dollar from Davey and he manages to make a pen go right through it without leaving a single mark on it, but Davey is apparently as clever as he is beautiful, and he explains the trick back to Jack with little effort. He has a rather amused look on his face, that he tries to keep polite, as Jack gets visibly frustrated and a little disheartened that he’s seeing through all his tricks. The card tricks don’t seem to trip him up either, and Davey somehow knows what can be done with some sneaky shuffling methods. In the midst of all this, a crowd has gathered to watch the conversation between the illusive and poorly-dressed street magician, and the seemingly all-knowing skeptical audience member.

“How d’ya even know all that?” Jack asks, both in frustration and in genuine curiosity.

“I got really obsessed with learning how magic tricks work, once. I ended up almost pulling two all-nighters because of it,” Davey says, a little embarrassed by the fact.

Jack can’t help but to laugh at this – it’s an amusing, and somehow endearing, reason to be this knowledgeable about street magic. “Alright, alright, smart guy. C’mon, hands up, yeah?” he says, grabbing both of Davey’s hands and placing them face-down between them. Davey complies wordlessly, and even though he’s blushing from the unexpected touch, the look on his face shows that he’s skeptical that this trick will trip him up any more than the last one.

“Alright, what’re ya – left or right-handed?”

“Left-handed.”

“Yeah? Well then put down ya right hand, then put your left hand into a fist,” Jack says. Davey does as he’s told, and forces himself not to roll his eyes.

“Now, watch this,” Jack says, before opening up a Sharpie and drawing a tiny ‘x’ on his hand. “Ya see this?” he asks, before noticing the curious crowd that has gathered, and showing his arm to a few of the nearer audience members. He pockets the Sharpie first, before looking to the crowd with a confident smirk on his face. “Now, I’m gonna just pick up this cross–“ Jack pinches at the skin where the tiny cross is drawn, and it comes off almost immediately, “-and I’m gonna sprinkle it over…here.” He makes a sprinkling motion over Davey’s closed fist. The crowd is now visibly reacting, excited and expectant to see what happens.

“Alright, now open ya fist up and take a look,” Jack says, confident.

As expected, a small ‘x’ is visible on the palm of Davey’s hand. The crowd becomes noisy with amazed gasps and overlapping questions, all variations of “How did he do that?!” For the first time since their meeting, Davey looks perplexed.

“Well, can ya explain that one, smart guy?” Jack says, teasingly. The lack of an immediate response is telling enough. As most of the crowd starts to disperse, pleasantly surprised that the skeptical audience member is as baffled as the rest of them, a few of them leave bills into the little box that Jack has left out. It totals up to $23, which means that the bet is finally over.

Glancing around at the remnants of the crowd that stay expectantly for more, Jack says “It’s time for me to take my leave, so thank you all very much!” What’s left of the crowd leaves as well, as he takes off his cape, gloves and top hat and shove them into a duffel bag, along with the box he’s been collecting money in. When he looks up, bag on his shoulder, he notices that Davey is still standing there. “Can I getcha something, Davey?” he asks, teasing.

“How did you do that last one?”

“If I told ya that, I’d be out of a job here!” Jack jokes, before winking and walking towards where he knows the nearest café is – it’s cold and he wants a hot drink. Davey shadows him as he does this.

“Jack, c’mon!”

Jack turns around to Davey, and stands a little too close to him than what’s probably socially acceptable. Dialling his charm up to 100, Jack smirks as he gently cups Davey’s cheek with one hand. He then caresses Davey’s cheek for a moment, before pulling the rose from before out from behind Davey’s ear, and holding it out to him again. Grinning, he says “A magician never reveals his tricks.”

At this point, Davey is extremely red, and extremely baffled, not only because he has a pretty hot stranger hitting on him with cheap tricks, but also due to the fact that said stranger refuses to tell him how he did that damn trick. While he recovers from Jack’s proximity and open flirtations, Jack has already continued to walk away at a leisurely pace, apparently enjoying this interaction. Honestly, Davey admittedly can’t tell whether he wants to chase Jack down for his answer or for his number, but both are pretty damn good reasons, so he jogs to catch up with Jack again.

“If you’re not going to tell me, at least give me your number,” Davey insists.

“Woah, there! All this for just a magic trick?” Jack teases, despite the fact that he’d been hoping for exactly this.

“No! Well, not really, anyways. It’s just, you’re really– I just kinda thought that you, would maybe want to– I, uhm– you’re really nice and you look nice? I mean–“ Davey trips on his words. He’s not exactly the kind to just ask someone out on a whim like this, but the very attractive magician gave him a rose and was easy to talk to in a way that strangers never were, and on top of that, Davey still wasn’t entirely sure how the Sharpie trick had worked, and so it was reason enough to try and at least befriend the man.

“Yeah, yeah, I getcha,” Jack says, interrupting Davey’s fragmented monologue. He hands Davey his phone, with the screen showing the page for adding new contacts, and Davey gratefully takes it. “I was really hoping that you’d ask, anyways. But after all that,” Jack says, gesturing vaguely to the rose, “I figured that you’d say something if you were interested.” Grinning, he adds, “And I didn’t want ya saying you’d go out with me just to find out how I did the trick.”

Davey laughs at this, and he hands back the phone. Jack calls the contact for a second, so that the number shows up on Davey’s own phone, and Davey can save it later. Davey thanks him for this, and Jack tells him that he’ll text Davey later, and they say their goodbyes. He watches as Davey starts to walk away.

“Wait,” Jack calls out, suddenly. “Look, I know I’ve got your number and whatever, but I’m about to get some coffee. D’ya... maybe wanna join me?”

Davey lights up at this, and answers, “I’d love to.”

#fic #mine #davey jacobs #Jack Kelly #Javid

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marzipanandminutiae · 7 years

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I’ve heard various victorian etiquette rules in many Top 5/10 lists, but how many of them are true?

Oh boy. On the average list, few enough that I have to rant to my roommate and punch a pillow to calm down. Let’s pick a horrible listicle and venture into the depths, shall we?

Here it is: 10 Ridiculous Victorian Etiquette Rules

10. Fashion Etiquette: Crinolines and Corsets

Well, right off the bat, the photo they use to represent a woman in a cage-crinoline “waiting for help to get dressed” is from a series of satirical photographs. That cage is intentionally WAY larger than what any woman would ever wear.

Then there’s this gem:

The average girl needed many styles of dress stashed in her closet, including dresses for balls, dinners, walks and carriage rides, in addition to country and evening dresses.

I mean, the average girl might aspire to that. But a solidly middle-class girl would more likely have a few day dresses, suitable for walking, riding, or just going around the house, and a “best dress” for church and special occasions. Even among the elite, people generally had fewer outfits than we do today.

Nothing they say about crinolines is technically incorrect, but they do rather bafflingly call bustles “crinolettes.” Also, this is a good time to point out that the Victorian era spanned A WHOLE CENTURY. Fashions changed, and just like you can’t say the 1930s and the 1980s looked at all the same, there is no universal Victorian look.

9: Street Etiquette

They took this almost verbatim from an 1869 etiquette guide, so yeah, I’d say this is all solid. The only thing I’ll add is that just because the powers-that-be said that was what you were supposed to do, doesn’t mean that’s always what happened. The part about young unmarried ladies never going out unaccompanied in particular; sometimes your friend could count as a chaperone even if she was also a young unmarried lady, especially if neither of you were teenagers anymore. See also: Lucy and Mina wandering around Whitby on their own in the early chapters of Dracula.

Also, I don’t see how a lady having to initiate contact with a man is bad. Can we bring that back so I can get to work without being bothered by random douchebags? Thanks.

8: Introduction Etiquette and Addressing Nobility

This is all true, but it’s still true today in countries that have nobility and I fail to see how it’s relevant to Joseph Q. Average-Victorian, Esq. or his wife Arabella. I guarantee you not every Victorian had the entire peerage memorized.

7: Calling Card Etiquette

Again, true, but once more they’ve used a satirical image- this time a cartoon -as the header for the story. Also not really that ridiculous in a time before instant mass communication. You couldn’t just post on Facebook “coming into town on Saturday, hit me up!” You had to do the equivalent of going to each friend individually and letting them know you were around. If you had to go to that much trouble, you’d definitely want to make it easier on yourself by having cards made up.

6: Visiting Etiquette

Mostly true. Mostly not that ridiculous. Mostly only applicable to the upper echelons of society. I’m sensing that these are major themes of this listicle. Also, morning calls may have been any call before dinner, but dinner largely meant lunch. Supper was the evening meal.

5: Dinner Party Etiquette

Did this person just go through Pool’s and write everything down in a vaguely sardonic tone as if it’s the most ludicrous thing they’ve ever read? I mean, yeah, these baroque rules existed, but they were only followed in the strictest formal settings. This isn’t exactly etiquette that had much bearing on people’s everyday lives. This is like if someone started sniping about the practice of consciously arranging who would sit at what tables for a modern wedding reception.

4: Presentation at Court

OH MY GOD WHY

3: Courtship

The picture used is Edwardian, not Victorian, and no duh he’s breaking rules. It’s a staged picture meant to be amusing or cute or whatever. I feel compelled to point out again that these “rules” may have been set down in etiquette guides, but the degree to which they were strictly followed varies.

A girl could consider herself a spinster if she failed to find a husband within three seasons (essentially, three years, but among the Fancy English Society People)? Really? If she came out- that is, had her debut/presentation at court and was considered eligible for marriage -at age 17 or 18, that would mean that 20-year-olds were considered spinsters. Which. No. Not even remotely. I can point out half a dozen examples in my own family tree of Victorian people who got married for the first time in their 30s. Marriages were younger on average, but only in a woman’s early 20s as opposed to mid-late 20s today.

Also the advice that a 27-year-old woman marry a 40-year-old man...yeah that may have been advised but I highly doubt it was often followed.

2: Ballroom Etiquette

“Country dance” had two meanings. One, as suggested, is a less formal dance in the country, but these could also be called balls. The other is a dance performed in two facing lines (traditionally of ladies and gentlemen; nowadays of any gender permutation. although ladies did often dance with ladies even in the 19th century, because while masculinity permitted men to attend dances in the hopes of finding a lady to woo and/or bed, the crowd still tended to skew female).

I don’t mean to keep belaboring the point that all of this is only relevant to the Victorian 1%, but. All of this is only relevant to the Victorian 1%. And most of the Victorian 1% were busy ignoring it anyway, because they were aristocrats and nothing is more aristocratic than a total lack of fucks given about propriety. The people who read guides like this, generally, were the nouveau riche or social climbers. Or some super-prudish elderly aristos.

1: Engagement Etiquette

This is true in the sense that most of it was what you were technically supposed to do and, I firmly believe, totally false in every practical sense. Having read Victorian love letters, I have trouble believing any couple “lived as perfect strangers” for a period after their engagement while they got their affairs in order. Also, I think they’re interpreting part of this guide as an admonition against even hand-holding or brief kissing with one’s fiance(e) when it actually means that you shouldn’t go off and round second base in a corner.

The author mentions Jane Austen in the afterword, which seems just like the rest of the article: staggeringly irrelevant to a general discussion of Victorian etiquette. So there’s one common mistake these listicles make. They interpret the byzantine rules proscribed- and not always followed -by the upper crust as the rules everyone lived by. Very little in this article was technically inaccurate, but it was pretty misleading. And this is one of the milder ones I’ve read.

I’d say take Ridiculous Victorian X articles with a huge grain of salt and Google anything that seems fishy. Their concern is not accuracy, but fanning the flames of that nice modern superiority feeling in their readers’ hearts to get more clicks. And if you think the 19th century is alone in complicated standards of etiquette, try reading any discussion of how to behave on Instagram.

#ask #anon #long post #listicles #history #victorian #19th century #1800s #Anonymous

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wreathedwith · 7 years

Text

How Not To Be a Boy book tour write-up

Brief write up of an event I attended where Robert Webb was in conversation with Victoria Coren Mitchell. Because they were both too cute about David Mitchell, “the elephant in the room”. It was a really fun evening watching two people talk who clearly like each other and get on well (and I got my book signed an’ all).

This is not everything that was discussed, nor is it verbatim.

VCM said at the beginning that RW's book is on its fifth reprinting already!

VCM also said at the beginning she had been “wanting to meet Rob for a long time and I'm pleased it's finally happening”.

RW's wife was in the front row of the audience (which mostly meant some guilty looks towards her occasionally when talking about certain parts of the book).

RW read out two extracts over the course of the evening: one part from towards the end of the book about the beginning of the end of his relationship with Jenna (reading Men are from Mars… and similar books, feeling absolved from emotional workload, playing Civ II), and the part about Will in Torquay.

(VCM referred to Ellis, who told RW to take Jenna to Milan to propose to her, as “David’s friend”. This reminded me that there’s an Ellis in Back Story – assume the same. His full name, as given in Back Story, is Ellis Wolfe Sareen, which is nuts.)

Back Story was brought up early on by VCM. (I think this was in the context of DM’s irritation that RW had suppressed his Lincolnshire accent, which would have given them a not-middle-class edge.) RW joked that he had “already outsold it”.

VCM mentioned in relation to this about her father in the 1950s, when it would have been far more common to do so, being born working class then going from a grammar school to Oxford, and adopting a posh accent and starting to wear tweed jackets in order to fit in with the establishment. VCM expressed fascination with RW doing something similar. VCM also contrasted her concerns when writing about her father, already famous, over not tarnishing his legacy, versus RW writing about people who weren't famous and whether he felt responsibilities around that. RW said that he did, and that everyone involved saw an early draft and okayed it. Occasionally people had said ‘really?’ about some aspect and it was taken out, but not very often.

RW, at one point: “Of course we were going to end up talking about flipping David the whole time.”

VCM segued at one stage into talking about DM's opinion on black tie (“My husband's theory on black tie is that the only good thing about being a man at red carpet events...”) and RW mimed irritation about her always going on about David and David's views. VCM moved on.

(Adorably!) VCM could barely get through without laughing – “this is one of my favourite things ever” – the story of DM intending to email a reminder to himself about calling RW (RW: “he needs some sort of app”) but accidentally emailing the message to Rob instead (mentioned by DM here). VCM: “It was nice! You knew you were in his thoughts.”

VCM: “In your best man speech at our wedding, you specified that you had never seen DM's penis. My question is: why had you expected to?” RW explained that he had meant that over the years (Edinburgh shows, touring etc.) they had shared a lot of “floors, or at least a twin bedroom”. But every time they shared a room, DM would “go off to the bathroom with his little bag ... and come back out resplendent in his burgundy pyjamas which, by the way, I know he still has.” (VCM seemed to indicate this was the case.) This is what happens, RW said, when “two people with vastly different ideas about nudity share a bedroom”. (For the record, RW asked the men in the audience to raise their hands if they had seen several of their platonic male friends' penises, and quite a lot of them did.)

There was some audience q and a time at the end, but a couple of questions were invited in the middle. The first question RW was asked was a good one: “When you're writing about sexism and stereotypes, how can you tell that a joke is working because it's about sexism, rather than being a sexist joke?” RW said that there was no formula and that it was something you got better at judging with practice, and you had to think about whether you could defend the joke if that situation ever arose. He also made an interested reference to Jimmy Carr (“although I like Jimmy”), citing Carr saying that jokes are a “holiday from morality” but RW personally wouldn’t subscribe to such an extreme view.

There was another, perhaps inevitable, question on why comedy is so sexist. RW for the most part abdicated from answering this, saying he was not qualified to answer and “if only there was a woman here to answer that” (although did elaborate somewhat, saying that although he didn’t do stand-up he thought women sometimes had to work a lot harder to command control over a room than a male stand up – he phrased it more carefully than that). VCM said “you didn’t ask [me]”, but said that the first time she went on a panel show no-one laughed, the second time a few people laughed and the third time nearly everyone did because people had realised it was OK to laugh. “And I didn’t get funnier; if anything, less funny.” Her explanation for this was that audiences get nervous when they see someone they don’t know, and far more so when that person is a woman. “It seems to be illegal to put on more than two women on a panel show at once,” VCM said, and that this could be solved by just getting on three or four women at once for every panel show for a couple of months, then everyone would feel fine about women, but it would never happen because of the first couple of months where it would feel awkward.

At one point, VCM said “Ten years ago, if anyone was to guess which one of Mitchell and Webb was not entirely heterosexual...” RW completely misinterpreted this and said “yes, it would have been me” (I guess he's thinking about... the cross dressing dancing? and similar) before realising what VCM had meant. “Oh yeah!” RW said, looking very amused. “People, some people, used to think David was gay.”

(This pretty much came up from some quarters, I guess, from the fact that DM appeared to have no love life to speak of and was successful but living with a flatmate in his late 30s. Now we know specifically what was going on, of course. But the thing is DM is... so straight. Like, hilariously straight. To the point of being terrified of women for a long time and also being quite apologetic in Back Story for not even being a little bit gay. Anyway, I found it amusing that none of that thinking immediately came to RW’s mind.) Further clarification on that side of things: RW said that “aged 16 to 22, I thought of myself as bisexual. Then that petered out. I blame Peter.” (“Ba boom! You've been waiting for a proper joke and that was finally it!”)

RW also said that sexuality was a spectrum and some people are quite happy at one end or the other, and others move up and down it. RW said he strongly disliked the idea that if you were attracted to twice the genders there was twice the temptation to cheat (“If you're going be tempted, don't get married! What are you doing?”). There was also a brief exchange between VCM and RW where VCM began suggesting and RW agreed that what you call yourself and how you feel about various genders fades away and doesn't really matter once you commit yourself to one person. (That's something I know not everyone would agree with, but I doubt he would claim to be making a more universal point beyond his own feeling.)

VCM did not soft-ball RW for knowing him, and asked him a really tough question at the end – essentially, what percentage of your father's mistakes have you made yourself, and how well are you doing overcoming them. (RW said that he thought he'd made about 30-40% of the mistakes. Can't remember exactly what he said to the latter, but it was something along the lines of not wanting to say exactly how well he was doing but that it was better than he had been and a work in progress.)

#robert webb #how not to be a boy #mitchell and webb #victoria coren #text post

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pennyfynotes · 7 years

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for the ask game, all the even numbers! :)

why hello! i’ve decided since i’ve received this ask from you, anon, as well as 2 other asks from @studykid and @studentsandlattes about the ask game i reblogged, i might as well answer all the questions. i mean, between the 2 of you combined i’ll be hitting at least 2/3 of them... here we go!

1: Could you go the rest of your life without smoking a cigarette? absolutely. i have no intention of giving myself lung cancer. (i also don’t quite understand the appeal?)2: Are you single/taken/heartbroken/confused? lol single since birth.3: What if I told you that you were pretty? i would be extremely flattered. 4: Ever been told “it’s not you, it’s me”? uh nope.5: Are you interested in anyone right now? not really.6: What are you looking forward to in the next week? being done with the horror that is final exams.7: Do you want to be single? single is all i’ve ever known and i don’t mind it?8: Did you go out or stay in last night? i was taking an exam until about 9:40 then i stayed in and baked cookies9: How late did you stay up last night? um like 2?10: Can you recall the last time you realized you liked someone a lot? honestly... have i ever like someone a lot? unsure.11: Last three things you had to drink? lemon thyme water, cherry coke and water (?)12: Have you pretended to like someone? that seems unnecessary and difficult. (no)13: Have you ever told somebody you loved them and not actually meant it? i don’t think so? unsure if i’ve ever said the words “i love you” seriously.14: Honestly, has anyone seen you in your underwear in the past 3 months? aside from my roommate seeing me in a bra and shorts while getting dressed a couple times nope.15: Is it hard for you to get over someone? i used to have to be “liking” someone so i really didn’t “get over” someone until i found someone new to latch onto. but upon reflection me “liking” people in the past has been very different from most people’s definition of the thing so... let’s just leave it at my relationship with anything vaguely romantic is weird.16: Think back five months ago, were you single? again, single since birth.17: What were you doing at 12:30 this afternoon? studying (or trying to)18: Hold hands with anyone this week? nope19: Could you go for the rest of your life without drinking alcohol? honestly probably. i don’t really drink much past the (very) occasional glass of wine/champagne or maybe some beer. let’s say i don’t go out seeking alcohol.20: What would you name your future daughter? don’t really want kids but maybe something like alexandra or natalia. (i like long names)21: Do you miss anyone? my mom.22: Have you kissed three or more people in one night? ha. ha. ha. never been kissed (despite being an old hag among you tumblr youngsters)23: Did your last kiss take place in/on a bed? see above.24: Are you good at hiding your feelings? i’d like to think so?25: Have you ever cried from being so mad? yup.26: Who did you last see in person? my best friends a + e.27: Are you listening to music right now? nope.28: What is something you currently want right now? to be done with exams. (on a more material level i think having a drawing tablet would be awesome tho not sure how often i would use it so maybe not)29: What is the last thing you said out lot? *loud (?) i think it was something like “see you later”30: How is your heart lately? on a physical level i think it’s fine (i hope) on an emotional level also fine. let’s just say i don’t have much time for romantic entanglements.31: Do you wear the hood on your hoodie? occasionally.32: Are you wearing socks? i am.33: What do people call you? my name. but on tumblr they call me maria ;)34: Will you talk to the person you like tonight? don’t like anyone so no?35: Are there any stressful situations in your life? exams. always exams.36: Who did you last share a bed with? nadie. (translation: no one)37: Did you do something bad today? i procrastinated?38: When was the last time a member of the opposite sex hugged you? the sunday before thanksgiving (?)39: Do you get stressed out easily? yes and no. depends on what it is.40: Will you sing today? maybe?41: Have you ever wanted to tell someone something but didn’t? yup.42: Who do you go to when you need to talk to someone? uh. no one? i don’t really know how to answer this43: Have you ever been taken to the emergency room in an ambulance? don’t believe so.44: What are you listening to right now? silence.45: What is wrong with you right now? exams.46: What is on your wrists right now? a pandora bracelet and 2 hair ties47: Where did you get the shirt/sweatshirt you’re wea *ring (?) got it at the converse store.48: What do you like better: hot chocolate or hot apple cider? prob hot chocolate.49: Do you make wishes at 11:11? hahahaha. this is a running joke among one of my dance groups.50: Are you a good artist? sometimes? not really? idk?51: Love really is a beautiful thing huh? honestly i wouldn’t know. i don’t really get it? never been in love, parents are def not in love sooooo yeah.52: Do you miss the way things were six months ago? yes. i was on summer break with close to no stress.53: Ever been on a golf cart? don’t think so.54: Do you have trust issues? kinda?55: Ever stayed up all night on the phone, with who? nope.56: Do you own something from Hot Topic? haha yes.57: Do you use chap stick? mhm.58: Have you ever slapped someone in the face? no? but i used to slap people in the head in middle school. i was kinda violent.59: Do you have a little sister? no :(60: Have you ever been to New York? yes, i love it there61: Think of the last person who said I love you, do you think they meant it? not sure if i’ve ever been said those words to verbatim, but if i have been it was probably my mom and she probably meant it.62: Have you hugged someone within the last week? mhm.63: What were you doing at midnight last night? eating cookies.64: Have you ever regretted kissing someone? can’t regret something you’ve never done!65: Is there one person in your life that can always make you smile? my brother is the biggest goofball. also my friends are great.66: Were your last three kisses from the same person? yes. they were all from no one.67: Have you kissed anyone in the last five days? jesus what’s with all the kissing questions i already said no.68: Would you rather sleep with someone else or alone? never slept with someone (in both interpretations of the phrase) but i think i’d rather sleep alone.69: Will next Friday be a good one? yes! i will finally be done with exams!

this was super fun and i hope you maybe got to know me a little bit better! you guys are amazing! xoxo, m

#pfmthoughts #anon #ask #answered #Anonymous

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otapleonehalf · 7 years

Video

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Video transcription under the cut.

(This transcription is not verbatim. I made some changes to make it read a little better.)

I’ve finally gotten around to watching Maria the Virgin Witch and it’s one of the worst anime that I’ve seen in a while.

To my surprise, when I looked to see how others felt about the series, I found posts on sites like ANN and the Mary Sue that not only called the show good, but also “feminist”. And now I am here to let you know that not only is this show garbage, but it sure as hell isn’t feminist. Posts praising the show as feminist give few to none reasons for the claim. So, I’m going to upset the trend and try to be thorough in backing up what I have to say about this series.

My critique will be organized into the following segments:

Portrayals of Purity, Rape, Sex, and Majokko

Meta Reasoning Behind These Portrayals

Overall Flaws in Story Telling

Purity

Maria, the titular character, may be stubborn, skimpily dressed and yells a lot, but contrary to popular belief this is not a magical formula for a strong female character. These qualities are not what really define her as a character. Instead, Maria’s defining characteristics are that she’s young, pretty, naïve, feminine and, as the title suggests, a virgin. These traits all inform Maria’s status as “pure” and remain static throughout the story.

Maria doesn’t actually have a canonical age but between the virgin Mary parallels and puberty jokes in the sub, we can conclude she is somewhere between 12 and 16. This is reinforced by her characterization where she’s 16, at most, in appearance, maturity and experience (sexual or otherwise). It doesn’t matter that the story alludes to her around for centuries, the creators chose to present her in this way, so that the audience can view her in this way for the entirety of the story.

Maria has no clear motivations besides a childish mantra of “war is bad” and over the course of the story she never learns anything, never grows as a person or changes in any real manner beyond settling down with a man at the end of the series.

This show offers no critique of the social constructs of purity and virginity. Instead, it glorifies the concepts by tying Maria’s power directly to her being a virgin and thus reinforcing the idea that a woman’s worth is tied to her purity. Maria does not choose to remain a virgin. The deus ex machina of the story forces her to do so and Maria’s intact purity is what ultimately saves the day, proving that this show holds purity higher than anything else.

Rape

Maria the Virgin Witch features “comedic” rape featuring Maria's male familiar as a victim. Rape jokes at the expense of victims are not funny. What’s more is that the comedic tone of the scene trivializes men as victims of rape. While the majority of sexual violence is committed against women, laughing at the possibility of a man being raped only shames and hurts real life victims.

But the rape as comedy was overlooked by the bloggers that described rape in this series as “tasteful” and “sophisticated”. That praise was given to series for playing rape as drama and Maria herself is a victim. The attempted rape of Maria that occurs about half way through the series is exactly that, an attempt that does not succeed. Therefore, Maria’s virginity can remain intact and the show never has to address the possibility of the protagonist not being a shining beacon of purity.

When Maria’s rape scene was being foreshadowed, I thought Joseph, Maria’s love interest, would be the rapist. That would have made the rape scene actually realistic, since most rapes are committed by someone close to the victim. But Maria’s attacker is a boogey man rapist, who makes a detailed plan ahead of time and jumps Maria in the middle of the night. Not only is the scene unrealistic in this sense, but it’s also blatantly sexualized where during it Maria sits in bondage for the camera to pan up her body for the viewer’s pleasure.

Just as a side note, the dub decided to add 90% more dick jokes to the script and made this scene even worse by referring to the attacker’s penis as a magical staff. Some bloggers also described the series as a “sex comedy” and I can only assume this means they watched the dub.

Sex

This show contains no positive portrayals of healthy sexual relationships. It has: adultery, prostitution, rape, and comic relief homosexual pedophilia. The only happy relationship on screen (that is not pedophilia) is that between two virgins, who don’t even have sex to conceive their child.

Sex isn’t even portrayed accurately in this series. The character of Viv’s claim that sex hurts the first time is bullshit. It’s a complete misconception that sex has to hurt the first time. If you have enough foreplay and go slow given that your partner isn’t a sadistic asshole, it doesn’t hurt. (You can read about hymens yourself here.)

This anime not only spreads misinformation about how sex works, but also bends over backwards to avoid discussing it in any realistic way. The pinnacle of this takes the form of the magical succubae prostitution which conveniently discards the problems that come with sexual territory like: pregnancy, STDs, abuse or risk of physical and mental trauma. So that the show never has to address any of them!

But shouldn’t we not forget the crippling poverty that causes people to turn to prostitution in the first place? Nope! In this anime, prostitution is always done for fun or as a friendly favor, rather than out of survival.

Yet, sex as a whole, is portrayed as something violent and painful that can even have deadly consequences. Sleeping with the wrong person once, can destroy the lives of the characters. The show makes it clear that sex is something negative, to be used against enemies. While virginity on the other hand, is something worth fighting for.

Majokko

For some context I want to talk about majokko, also known as the witch sub genre of magical girl. In majokko and magical girl anime, girlhood is often portrayed as a female’s final stage of freedom before motherhood. There is no young adult stage in between. (Kumiko Saito's paper "Magic, Shojo and Metamorphosis" goes deeper into this idea.)

Maria’s divine impregnation takes this trope in a very literal way, where Maria, at 16, is pregnant without really having left adolescence yet. In Maria the Virgin Witch women cannot affect the world around them, except by means of sex or magic. Female characters lacking sexuality or supernatural abilities are powerless, especially against the patriarchal institutions that surround them. Maria ultimately endorses the status quo in adopting a quiet life as a wife and mother. Giving up powers and freedoms in exchange for married life, is a tired and true trope dating back to the 1960s and the genre’s inception and Maria proudly upholds this outdated tradition.